#but wanted to let you know you are appreciated!!

[acid-ixx]

tell your baby, that i'm your baby. (a loving family, an unpalatable desire drabble)

ft. yandere damian wayne x gn! neglected spouse reader x yandere superfam

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist !

this is written in regards to one of my drabbles, i can't help but sigh at just how good the angst is for damian in this series.

because in loving family, unpalatable desire, you pretty much exclusively nickname him "dami, baby," from day one right after meeting him. you say it not in a way that you wish to overstep your boundaries at simply being his stepparent - you're aware, despite the ache in your chest admitting it, that you'll never come quite close to talia's standing in his heart, it's simply impossible with how she raised him her entire life before being dropped off in bruce's care - but because you find the boy adorable if you look past his intent at trying to murder you at every passing glance.

or maybe it's just you trying to cope with the pain of your situation, that you consider them all your beloved children, yet never being once called their parent throughout your entire marriage that breaks apart the illusion of a happy home life, that this wasn't the marriage you wanted at all; that you'll never bear a time in your life stuck in the manor seeing their genuine smiles directed at you even if you attempt to approach as patiently as possible in hopes your presence might be accepted— even if it results in awkward laughs at your cringy jokes at the dinner table, or one of damian's weapons nearly plunging the side of your head.

maybe, it's such a struggle to keep the flicker of light alive in your body whenever all your hardships fail, and all throughout you find your husband with lipstick stains all over his white collar every time he comes home that your mind forces itself to believe that with enough trial and error, maybe one of them could eventually tolerate, rather than pity you.

unfortunately, you chose damian, the one who you're convinced arguably despises you the most, of all people living or visiting the manor to run the test.

so in all the instances you chirp out his nickname, so fondly, so eminently heard across the walls of the manor, even in the spacious expanse of the gardens could your voice be heard from miles away, all because you wish to bond with him, praising his artworks with your grating voice, to give him intricate gifts you know will be discarded in the trash in front of you; you'll be met with a stubborn glare and mean comments about how he'll never consider you his parent, to relinquish your delusions at thinking he'll even let you past his walls, and how he'll never follow through the orders of a scum like you.

which is what you're forced to deal with every single day, coupled with harsh reminders of their happiness without the need for your presence beside them.

sometimes, his reactions could be his typical harsh comments, you've grown accustomed enough to differentiate what is harmless and what borders on violence; it's enough to know when to stop bothering him despite your best efforts. other times, it would be as intense as running a sword through the strands of your hair until he chops it at the end with a threat to cut off your tongue right after if you dare call him that putrid nickname again that cuts deeper than any wound.

with every trial of becoming closer to him, results in an even widening crack in your relationship with the young boy. and eventually, with enough sighs under your breath and harsh glares from him, you'll come into terms that you'll never form a cordial bond with the young boy. it's just impossible with how he views you, sheltered and undeserving because of your family's reputation of being money laundering scum.

at that period of time, you instead chose to strengthen your relationship with the reporter who saved you one day from the paparazzi's cruel interviews, the cute man from the daily planet whose name is clark kent with an even more adorable son, jon, who welcomed you with open arms and a tight hug on your stomach, muttering about how he's so excited to meet his new parent, just when you first stepped on the doors of your affair partner's home; that was enough to relinquish any anguish you felt at the manor replaced with absolute joy at what seems to be the first time you're considered the parent, part of a family, in a completely different household.

it helps erase the shadow of doubt that you may be cursed to never be accepted into an established family with just how bright, how comparable jon was to an overexcitable golden retriever, bonding with you since day one unlike all the other insufferable moments crammed into a jam-packed dinner table— only for your voice to be discarded and overpowered by others.

you start to call him your baby instead, completely in awe at the cute freckles littering his sun-kissed skin and the country boy accent he adopted from his dad. you couldn't help but hold his cheeks in your palms and kiss all over his face whilst you kneel to his level, laughing along with the giggles erupting from his throat that creates this harmonious melody in clark's ears, who watches you scoop the boy into your arms just to swing him back and forth in cuteness aggression, just how it always should've been with you.

clark pictures the moment together, capturing jon's smooshed face shadowed by your hair whilst you look at his, no, your son with inexplicable joy, eyes crinkled and shining brightly under the halo of the sunset.

and clark doesn't even have to see just much jon loves and cherishes you at first glance.

he wouldn't even dare compare you to his late mother, never once calling you a replacement or a homewrecker, placing you upon a pedestal you deserve to be instead; because let's face it, you simply live in the manor, but your true home is where clark and jon, and ma and pa kent are at. pictures of your little family are framed in your shared bedroom for you to graze your finger upon whenever you wish to reminisce the blessings bestowed upon meeting your affair partner at just by chance.

but you shouldn't have forgotten about damian that quickly, not when jon all-too suddenly shoves that photo of you in his wallet in front of his face, it made damian's mind go off in a tangent, in both curiosity and frustated yet unstated interrogations at your sudden disappearance (your grating voice don't call out to him anymore, and suddenly, the manor is quieter; he despises that feeling of emptiness more than he does of your nickname for him) then reappearance as jon's, funny, hah—!

jon's parent.

and in moments of careful investigation does he realize—

when you're with jon, his best friend, when he spies in on you at the little farm you now live in, currently alone with someone whom you call your true son, that he comes to realize just how much that nickname means so much to him, as your voice, with that soft tone, scold his friend with that familiar warmth you always used to direct at him with the softest of gaze, an angel unlike the sea of rich bastards he meets at the galas who only communicate with him to form connections, advantages by being associated with a family of the wayne's.

it's only when you're stripped away from him that he realizes how much he relishes your sweet occupancy into his heart, how there's always been an unbidden, forbidden chamber in his heart that beats for the love you offer him that was unlike the harsh environment he was born in.

he's never been adorned with such a delicate title that portrays him the opposite of what he's raised to be; damian has always been the blood son, son of the bat and heir to the demon king's throne, but never something as fond, as unforeseen as someone's baby.

it just thwarts the spark of hope in his heart and extends the lump in his throat at the scene that plays before him, the loving nickname you oh-so carefully address him now relinquished and graced to another boy, his friend no less— who you considered yours, who he's aware is way more deserving of being called your baby rather than him, who had always denied you from the very start.

"jon, baby, you help me clean the windows tomorrow, alright, young man? it's stained with all your fingerprints!" you scold him as assertively as you can, kneeling down to his level and pinching his cheeks all while grinning at the boy. jon retorts with a tongue out his lips and a scrunch of his nose. it garners a laugh from you, one damian swore he's never heard sounded so desirable until now.

why are you calling jon your baby?

"not my fault, mom/dad! i get so excited to see you come home every time you have to return there!" damian seethes at the scene of jon's pouting and puppy-eyes looking up at you, that should've been him.

"can't you just stay here? forever?"

damian despises how he engraves the melody of your laughter in reply to jon's words, right into his eardrums, but omits the disgustingly sweet chirp in your voice calling jon, not him, your baby. his mind nips away at the memories at all the moments you addressed him too, and how he always rejected and corrected you to call him by his name like a proper person rather than a maniac pushing themself into his life.

he doesn't want to ever hear you address him, if it means it's not by his nickname that you now call jon.

damian couldn't even deny how the huge grin that stretches across your face at the sight of his best friend scalds him with bitterness, he wasn't even aware you're capable of such enjoyment, not when back at the manor your hesitant with even displaying a tinge of happiness— as if you're capable of doing so, not when he knows he's one of the main contributors for being the reason of your current affair.

and yet he wishes he could lie and say he didn't miss it, miss your expectant stare at him, the contrast of talia's comfort compared to yours, when the hugs you offer him, the gifts carefully curated to his preferences, the palpable love that never once wavered for your family that you could never call yours, they all seem like a distant dream now that you're away from them; from him.

it hurts watching you two communicate even further, for once it's him in the background watching like an outsider instead of you. for once, he understands what isolation feels like, what foreboding desires fester deep into his scarred soul that could only be cured with one of the softest cuddly hugs, the sweetest, flutter of your lashes as you stare oh-so fondly at jon like he meant the world to you, like it was only the two of you in the world embracing the light filtering through the windows, side by side, inseparable.

if there was one wish he could conjure, a desire he was trained to forfeit himself to feel that creeps its way into the depths of his guarded heart— it's that once you put jon into bed - even if it takes hours, even his heart feels like it's being squeezed out of blood watching your nightly, affectionate routine with jon; reading him bedtime stories, eating together, laughing lightly at the dinner table while you feed him your share of the plate, moments he never thought he felt compelled to spend with you - once he strikes at the perfect opportunity to talk to you, to confront your blunder of choosing them over him, of his woes towards your relationship—

he wishes, with unceasing faith, that you still love him enough to call him your baby once more.

a/n: let this blow up and i might just actually fix my schedule to give more updates. anyways, more damian wayne and jon kent content! one of my fave runs is with supersons and i love fluff paired with angst too so this is a win-win. pls leave in some comments about this series, since ngl i didn't give it as much love as i did for a&a 😭 so yes! mitski inspired chapter with more conflicting feelings. i'm still working around writer's block but everyone's undying support helps motivate me a lot!!!

taglist:

@starrydollita, @vellichorandhiraeth, @chericia, @queenofspades403, @naina326, @neerathebrightstar, @lilyalone, @sweetconnoisseurgardener, @nickey-diano, @tsuniio, @ssak-i, @kore-of-the-underworld, @lollipoppersposts, @peptox, @kdjhubby, @weirdcore-fantasy.

[pacofprunes]

let me help ya’ relax.

thanos / player 230 x reader (squid game)

warnings — noncon, public (voyeurism), tears, kissing, use of the word bitch, use of the word rape, pussy kissing, choking, slight / barely but manhandling,

by clicking read more you consent to reading this content and you are 18+

“hey beautiful.”

“the hell?”

standing right in front of you, or rather over you, player 230. it was night and everyone was asleep or sitting in a corner somewhere. you didn’t know this guy beside seeing him the first two games and seeing him act like a fucking lunatic. you sit up and gather yourself.

“what do you want?”

“oh you know, just wanted to talk to a pretty girl.”

he does a cheeky smile. you stare. what do you even say to that. thank you i guess…?

“uh—”

“no need to thank me, it’s what i do. just such a great fucking guy right?”

he picks at the cross on his neck before pulling a pill out and holds it out to you.

“you use?”

“what?”

“drugs. do you do drugs? or have you done them before?”

how the fuck did he manage to bring his shit in here for one, and for two; why the hell is he more worried about doing drugs rather than living. that’d be the last thing you’d be thinking about.

“no. i dont do them and i dont have any interest in that.”

he does a fake pouty face.

“come on babe, loosen up ya’know? don’t wanna stress your pretty little face out.”

he pops the pill in his own mouth. where was this guy going with this? he clearly wants to stay here, hence the big blue ‘O’ on his jacket. so if he’s bored he should go talk to the people on his side. how the hell could you relax watching people you’ve gotten close to or even have just spoke to once die? meanwhile this dudes been jumping around having the time of his life while he’s been here. if this game ended tomorrow, he’d join it again a million times over. or maybe he wouldn’t but the drugs in his system sure as hell would.

“yeah, no… i appreciate your kindness but i don’t even know you and i think i’m just gonna lay back down.”

he grabs your hand and starts shaking it aggressively.

“my names thanos, it’s great to meet you! now you know who i am.”

he smiles again. you just stare. that’s not how it works at all. you could tell he was waiting for you to introduce yourself but you just brush it off and tell him again you’re going to lay back down. before you get to turn over and lay though, he grabs your face with both of his hands and presses your lips together into a deep kiss. he holds you there for a good while, and it felt like you were suffocating.

“what the fucks wrong with you?”

“baby, you could be my new drug! change that ‘X’ into an ‘O’, we’d be absolutely unstoppable!”

“this is real life you idiot, not some fucking video game!”

you slap his hand away from you and try telling him to get lost, but he just grabs your wrist and pushes you back onto your bed. you yell at him to get the fuck off of you but he just presses a finger up to your mouth hushing you.

“sex is a great way to relieve stress. just let me make you feel good. don’t be too loud though, unless you want the others to see us. but by all means, do it. it’s only making me harder.”

he laughed and winked at you. you suck the air through your teeth and he still holds onto your left wrist with one of his hands while letting the other one push at his chest. you’re more cautious with your voice level now and in a whisper you try again to get him to go.

“i don’t want to have sex with you, can you just go? go jack off in the corner or mess with literally any other girl here!”

he ignores you for the time being and goes to push your pants down, but with your free hand you grab his hand to stop him.

“gee babe, how sweet of you to wanna hold my hand! but uh, i kinda need it to get to the fun part.”

he ignores your hand continuing to grab at his, not proving to be much of use at all besides annoying him. he pushes your pants down, and then your panties to your ankles; acting as sort of some form of restraint. it would prove to be somewhat more difficult to kick at him now as your footing would get caught in the pant legs. he sits up off of your chest finally and starts to pull his pants and boxers off. you wanted to scream at him so badly to get off of you, to scream for some help, but you knew nobody would and all they’d do was watch. it wasn’t anybody’s problem and they weren’t going to make it theirs.

he cups your sex and starts rubbing circles at your tiny little hole to get you all soaked and ready for him. he leans down and he kisses it. he was literally about to start making out with your fucking pussy.

you squeezed your eyes shut and a couple tears come sliding down. god, first you’re in this game that seems normal, then people around you start getting shot, nobody wants to go home, and now you’re getting rapped by some crazy ass drug addict that calls himself fucking thanos. thanos! you’re pulled out of your thoughts when you feel his thumb on your face and him wiping your tears. you slightly open your eyes and he kisses you again. this time with your free hand you push as hard as you can at his face. he moves back and he makes an ‘ow’ face and rubs his forehead. he grabs your used to be free wrist and just pushes it to your side and holds it there.

“it’s always the prettiest bitches that play fucking hard to get.”

he lines up his cock with your somewhat wet hole. he maybe would’ve spent a little more time prepping you but you just ticked him off and he wasn’t going to help you anymore than he already has.

“it’s alright, i’ll have screaming my name and this whole place will know it by the time we’re done baby!”

oh god you were gonna be sick. you feel the sudden intrusion and you immediately tense. biting your lip back from screaming and shaking your head, tears flying left and right. you try to bend and claw your fingers at his hands that are holding yours down but it proves to be futile. you yell at him, while still keeping your voice down to stop and that he’s gotten enough and that he should go.

“agh—please—”

“please? you—fuck’—you want me to please keep going? well you don’t have to tell me that, i was already going to!”

he keeps a fast pace going, and the bed might as well of slid off of the shitty bars it was being held up on. everybody sleeping above you could definitely feel the whole thing moving. you try to fish your legs out of your pants legs to at least have some sort of way of pushing him away but it proves to be slightly harder than you thought.

“fuck babe—you feel so—fuck- so fucking good.”

he sucks the air through his teeth breathing heavy, while you’re doing the opposite and holding your breath.

“god you’re so tight, and you’re so — m’- so hot. i wish i could feel every inch of your — agh - you’re body but you’re too much of a fucking bitch, so i gotta keep ya’ still.”

he stops at an in thrust and moves his face down to yours, causing his cock to go deeper in you and causing you to bite back a moan and squeeze your eyes shut. he press his forehead to yours, your sweat causing them to almost stick together. he whispers to you while keeping perfect eye contact.

“but your my fucking bitch right? you’ll be my dumbed out little whore, baby. should get a tattoo on ya’ that says thanos’s bitch.”

he laughs moves down to your neck, starting to kiss all over it. leaving sweet marks all over as he starts thrusting into you again. you just feel his heavy hot breath against your neck and you just stare up at the bars above you and hold in the choked up sob threatening to come out. you feel his cock tense in you, threatening to shoot his load out and your eyes widen. he starts thrusting harder. he lets go of both your wrists and before you can even breathe out, relieved from the slightest bit of less pressure, he wraps both his hands around your throat and looks you in the eyes the whole entire time.

“come on bab — fuckk’- babe. look at me pleas- come on, watch how good you — you make me feel.”

you start to scratch at his his hands and his arms. he’d most definitely be marked up all over by the morning. finding it increasingly more difficult to breathe. you finally decide to look him in the eyes, sending him a pleading look to stop and to quit choking you, your face slowly starting to turn a shade of blue. upon your eyes looking at him, seeing those teary orbs and pleading face, it sends him over the edge. he sends a curse your way before he surprisingly pulls out his load going all over the bed. he lets go of your neck and pulls up his boxers, falling on top of you. his weight making it hard for you to completely catch your breath. you start to choke and hiccup on your own tears before he looks up at you and strokes his hand across your face, catching a few tears in his hand.

“i told you it wouldn’t be bad at all. don’t you feel a little more at ease now? are you prepared for the games tomorrow?”

not at all. was he fucking delusional? he lays his head back on your chest, looking up at you like a child, and rubs his hands up your sides.

“tomorrow when we vote, you better change to an ‘O’. wouldn’t want my pretty girl to betray me after all.”

he does a fake pout at the end of that. you go to sit up to pull your pants back up but he stops you.

“uhm, allow me. wouldn’t want you to do any hard labor! i’ll take care of it all for ya.’”

he pulls your panties and your pants up and sits up off of you, getting his own pants situated. he grabs your hand and presses a kiss to the top of it, looking at you in your eyes with a smile, your eyes still watering. and you send a glare his way.

“ouch babe! you hurt me here.”

he smacks his chest a couple times where his heart was.

“i’d stay here and sleep with you, but my friends will want a piece of you too if they find out that’s what i did tonight.”

you shudder at the thought of that.

“but dont worry. i’ll see you tomorrow. i’ll see ya at breakfast, yeah?”

he pulls you in for one long kiss and you push him away and he almost falls into the next bed over. he grabs at his heart again dramatically.

“ugh, i don’t wanna leave you. we’ll talk tomorrow though, kay? maybe have some more fun too.”

he winks at you again before turning over his shoulder and literally skipping away, running with his arms in the air and his hands in fists. you just hug your knees, crying into them, and now more than ever you wanted to go home. god this was so fucked. you just wanted to go to the bathroom and wash all over yourself but you knew they wouldn’t let you in. you just keep a tight grip around your knees, trying to find some sort of solace while you’re stuck here.

[yoonjae20]

Bruce is (secretly) married [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]

I got sucked into the DPxDC crossover rabbit hole. I have read too many fanfics despite not knowing the source material.

I randomly got the idea of Bruce being secretly married and the Batfam finding out about it after Duke poses the question of why Bruce wears a ring. (Also how Danny's influence would have subtly changed things.)

Read this on ao3. Masterpost

Next.

Bruce had always worn the ring, long before Dick came around – at least that’s what the boy had told Jason when he asked about it. 

They had looked through the records one night – bonding over finding out when he started, but he had already worn the ring once the man returned from his seven year long  journey of training. The media had speculated it to be a family heirloom – either his father’s or mother’s wedding ring. Bruce neither confirmed or denied when they asked about it.  

The man never took it off, not even when he stalked the night as Batman and neither of them had been brave enough to ask about it, after they watched clips where the media asked and his Brucie mask slipped into something uncomfortably blank. 

Jason had quickly forgotten about it after Bruce had benched him from being Robin after Felipe Garzonasa’s death. He had been furious, questioning if Bruce didn’t believe him that he didn’t push the man.

“Of course I believe you, chum,” the man had said, but Jason didn’t trust the man’s words. “But you just saw a man die. That’s not something we should brush over.”

He had sent Jason to bed for the night, but the boy had sneaked out, believing Bruce to go back to patrol after dropping him off. He instead found him in his office, talking to someone on the phone.

“...You have better experience with stuff like this than me…” the man said. “Do you think I should have never given Jason Robin? I know Dick agreed, but…” Bruce trailed off and then paused to hear the other person’s response. “I know.” He let out a deep sigh. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow about it. Are you still planning on visiting for the anniversary? I would appreciate if you tried talking to-”

Jason didn’t wait to listen for more. He knew it. Bruce was going to take Robin away from him. 

He remembered the picture he had found of his birth mother. He initially had wanted to tell Bruce to get his help to find her, but now he isn’t sure if it’s such a good idea. If the man was gonna take Robin away from him anyway, he didn’t want to be there for the moment. 

With that goal in mind, unbeknownst to Bruce, he disappeared that night, setting out to the Middle East to find his mother. 

Bruce finds his corpse several weeks later. Dick breaks down in space when he receives the call from Bruce. They attend the funeral together, neither of them talking about it, even years later.

Jason returns several years later, dead set on revenge on Joker and on Bruce for never avenging him. What he doesn’t expect is to stumble over a newspaper celebrating the anniversary of the Jason Scholarship Foundation along with pictures of his funeral, showcasing both Bruce and Dick crying. 

He never stumbles upon a memorial with his battered Robin suit and the description “Jason Todd, a Good Soldier” and beats Tim Drake, the third Robin half dead for replacing him. Instead he returns to the Manor, overwhelmed at Bruce’s breakdown and reaction. Red Hood debuts several months later – with the Bat symbol on his chest. They still have their conflicts, but Jason never has to fill a duffel bag full of heads for his debut. 

It’s only once Damian arrives, Cass becomes Bruce’s daughter and Duke his ward that the topic of the ring gets brought up again. It’s Duke who asks what they all have been thinking. 

“By the way, why does Bruce wear a ring?”

Finding no information online and not managing to get anything out of Alfred, they break into Bruce’s office while he’s on patrol getting distracted by Damian and Cass. It’s Tim who finds it, in a locked drawer, sealed carefully.

A marriage certificate. 

“Who the hell is Daniel Fenton?” Jason questions gruffly.

“My husband.”

Jason startles, turning to the doorway. Bruce is standing there, his arm crossed and he cringes at the displeased raise of Bruce’s right eyebrow. Behind him Cass shrugs at Tim’s questioning gaze while Damian clicks his tongue.

“Why haven’t we met him? And, wait, does Dick know about this?” Tim asks. 

Bruce lets out a deep sigh as he fiddles with the ring - the wedding ring. 

“Let’s go somewhere else for this.”

They all shuffle to one of their smaller living rooms. Duke sets up a voice call so Dick, who is back in Blüdhaven, doesn't have to miss out. Tim is on his own computer, no doubt researching everything he can find on Daniel Fenton. Or would he be Daniel Wayne? 

It’s Damian who breaks the silence.

“Father. Explain.”

The man presses his lips together as he stares down into his tea. Alfred squeezes his shoulder behind him. 

“The reason you haven’t met Danny is because he’s dead.” Bruce pauses while his kids pale. “Technically.”

Before either of them can question that, suddenly a young white haired boy appears, sitting on Bruce arm’s chair, eyebrow raised and wearing a black and white hazmat suit.

“Shouldn’t I be here for this?”

In an instant all of them sans Bruce and Alfred are on alert, Tim has a Batarang in hand, Jason one of his guns and Damian a knife poised to the unknown boy’s neck.

It’s Bruce who diffuses the situation.

“Danny?” Bruce sounds disbelieving and Damian twitches, knife still in hand. 

“In the flesh.” The boy does jazz hands, neck grazing the knife, but it doesn’t draw any blood. “Or ectoplasm. Whatever.”

“How wonderful of you to surprise us with your presence Master Danny,” Alfred says, tone slightly sarcastic and Damian finally steps back, eyebrows knitted together. 

Danny winces. 

“I would have warned you, but Clockwork just dropped me off, telling me that it’s finally time.”

“This is your husband?” Duke bursts out. 

The boy bows playfully.

“Danny Fenton-Wayne. King of the Infinite Realms. Half ghost and-” Suddenly he transforms, white rings traveling over his body and leaving behind a middle-aged black haired man. “-Half human.”

“GHOST?”

“HALF HUMAN?”

“KING OF THE INFINITE REALMS?”

“Thank fuck I thought Bruce was a pedophile for a moment.”

Everyone turns to stare at Duke.

“What? I just said what everyone thought,” the boy defends himself.

“Actually that would be ephebophilia,” Danny corrects. “Although he would still classify as a necrophile.” 

Bruce punches the man’s forearm, rolling his eyes with a fond look and Danny yelps, rubbing the spot.

“Hey! If anyone is allowed to joke about it, it’s me!” the man complains with a pout and Bruce shakes his head. 

“Another reason why you never met Danny is because – believe it or not – he’s the King of the Infinite Realms, which means he is quite busy.”

“So much paperwork,” Danny groans. “If I get Constantine’s ass, I swear to the Ancients that he’s gonna die. Half a decade lost because I had to bargain for his soul pieces!”

“After I returned to Gotham to become Batman, the Infinite Realms unfortunately fell into war following a coup attempt, leaving Danny to deal with the mess.”

“And Clockwork prohibited me from visiting the Gotham until a certain point, claiming that I would change the timeline too much with my influence,” Danny finishes for Bruce, all of Bruce’s kids watching with fascination how seamlessly they seem to fit together as the man leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder while Bruce runs a hand through the man’s black hair. “Considering I would have never let Bruce run around with child vigilantes, he’s probably right.”

“I forgot you know about that,” Bruce sighs.

“Jazz kept me updated,” Danny says smugly.

“That’s a break of patient confidentiality,” Bruce grumbles. 

“She may be your therapist, but she’s also my sister.”

“Mr. I-Rather-Chew-Nails-than-Talk-About-My-Feelings?“ Jason exclaims. “No way!”

“I have been vocal about the fact that I go to therapy.” Bruce frowns.

“I thought you were joking!”

“Where do you guys think I go every Sunday evening?” Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Justice League meeting?” 

“Golfing?”

Once again everyone stares at Duke and he flushes at the attention.

“I thought it’s a rich person thing!” 

Danny snorts.

“He got you there, darling.”

“When and how did you guys meet?” It’s the first time Dick actually speaks up, having observed everything – or as much as he could – through the web camera. 

“At a gala when both Bruce and I were teens,” Danny answers. “My godfather dragged me into it. At least one thing I can thank him for.”

Danny smiles while Bruce grunts in agreement. 

“The wedding?” Tim follows up.

Both Danny and Bruche pause to think.

“Did we do the civil registration in Paris or Las Vegas?” Danny turns to Bruce. “I can’t remember.”

“We were quite drunk,” Bruce agrees.

Danny snips his fingers like he remembers something, but then he shakes his head. He puts a hand to his chin, tiling his head. 

“Or was it Brazil?”

The rest blink at the pair before Danny shrugs with an apologetic smile.

“We had the real wedding in the Infinite Realms though,” Danny explains, “Once Bruce got finished with his training. The citizens wouldn’t have accepted it otherwise. Alfred would have taken pictures, but technology doesn’t work in the Infinite Realms.”

“Such a shame, it was quite a nice wedding,” Alfred affirms. 

“Alfred knew?!” is the consensus complaint. 

“Does Mother and Grandfather know about this?” Damian asks stiffly.

“Considering Ra’s used Bruce’s and your mother’s DNA to artificially create a baby despite knowing – he doesn’t care,” Danny says just a tad-bit too cheerfully. 

The revelation leaves everyone reeling. 

“Okay, now that all questions are answered-” Danny doesn’t give them time to inject. “Can we talk about the stinking elephant in the room?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow as Danny gestures to Jason. Jason almost would feel insulted if Danny didn’t sound so genuinely surprised that nobody else said or noticed something. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Jason complains as he discreetly tries to sniff his armpits. Considering Tim’s and Dick’s snickering, he doesn’t succeed. 

“Your Ectoplasm reeks like-” Danny grimaces as he flails his arms. “Like you took a bath in spoiled eggs.”

Danny turns to Bruce with an angry look in his eyes.

“Especially you should have noticed, considering you are liminal! His core is completely malnourished.” Bruce winces. “Did you forget that I gave you a way to contact Frostbite?”

“Without the ambient ectoplasm you radiate my ability to see ectoplasmic entities and speak and read Ghost Speak slowly degraded over the years,” Bruce explains. “I wasn’t aware Jason had been a type of ectoplasmic entity.” 

“His eyes literally glow green when he’s angry!” Danny chides. “He returned from the dead for revenge. He’s clearly a Revenant. That’s Ghost 101!”

It’s amusing to see Bruce get scolded by someone else other than Alfred. Alone for that fact Jason has to admit that he begrudgingly likes Danny. 

“Alright-” Danny stands up and tugs on Jason’s arm. Bruce moves to follow him like second nature. “You are coming with me right this instant.”

Before anyone can stop them, Danny transforms back into his Ghost Form, Jason’s hand in one and Bruce in the other and steps through a glowing green portal, it vanishing shortly after. Silence follows.

“So well that just happened.”

This time everyone agrees with Duke. 

[classyrbf]

STILL IN LOVE! #12 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…only to realize it’s much more complicated than you led on

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce, mentions of jail, blood, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

series masterlist

As soon as you stepped back inside the house you immediately made your way over to the bedroom to grab your phone. Your head was still spinning from what just happened. Your heart was pounding so fast you could hear it in your ears. The thought of Toji going to jail made you anxious, scared. You two finally started off on the right foot, making little progress each day and you didn’t want to tell the kids that their father was in jail. Hell, you didn’t even know how long he’d be in jail for this kind of shit. You didn’t have the money to bail him out, whatever the cost may be. But you had an idea of who might.

Quickly, you called Gojo. The phone rang while you chewed on your bottom lip, leg bouncing up and down nervously while you waited. “Hello?” It was like a weight lifted off of your shoulders upon hearing his voice.

“Gojo, thank god you fucking answered,” you sighed.

“Y/n? Oh no…what’d he do this time? Better be worth you waking me up for,” he yawned.

You let out a soft chuckle before explaining, “he’s in jail, or is gonna end up in jail—”

“Hold up, what?” Gojo jumped up, brows furrowing at your words.

“To make a long story short, my ex boyfriend came over this morning while toji was here, he said some shit toji didn’t like and toji beat the shit outta him. Cops were called and they dragged both of them away and said toji will most likely go to jail,” you explained, biting the inside of your cheek.

“And I’m guessing you need me to bail him out? Yeah?”

“Yes…Gojo, please. Me and Toji…we were doing good and the kids and it’s just—”

“Listen, call Shoko to pick the kids up after school and I’ll be over in a little bit,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Toji sat in the chair, hands laying flat on the desk as he waited in the dingy questioning room. He felt like some big time criminal, considering what happened. He was annoyed, having to go through this whole process over a simple fight. “People are pussies,” he muttered to himself. Nanami should’ve kept his mouth shut, especially about the kids. He should’ve left when you asked him to and instead he kept on going.

All Toji could think about was you, wondering if you were disappointed in him, upset or even at your breaking point with him. He promised he wouldn’t mess up his chance, and yet here is sitting in a police station with the high probability of being put behind bars. He impatiently tapped his foot on the ground, the buzzing sound of the overhead fluorescent lights making his head pound. The slight cut on lip still stung everytime he licked his lips, a faint taste of blood on his tongue.

A knock at the door snapped him from his thoughts, a police officer walking in and flashing a quick, fake smile at Toji. “Alright, Mr…Fushiguro.” The man took a seat across from Toji and it couldn’t help but make his eye twitch.

“When can I leave?” Were the first words that came out of his mouth. “I need to see my wife and kids.”

The officer chuckled, shaking his head. “Not until we get your side of the story. We already questioned Mr. Nanami, and we got your wife’s—ex wife’s side as well, so you’re next. Mind telling me what happened from beginning to end?” The officer clicked the blue pen his had in his hand, flipping the next page in his notepad.

“I woke up, made breakfast for my wife and shortly after she woke up as well. We talked for a little, didn’t even get to sit down and eat before the doorbell rang. She answered it and I looked over to see it was her ex boyfriend at the door,” he mumbles, not once shifting his gaze.

“You say she’s your wife and you say Mr. Nanami is he ex boyfriend. But he says that you two are divorced,” the officer adds.

“We are but we plan on working things out, so she’s my wife.” The officer nods are Toji’s words, scribbling it down on the white paper. “I walk over to the door and stand behind her, and they’re having a conversation about their relationship. She told they broke up—he broke up with her because of me and our relationship. Fair enough. She respected it and realized that maybe me and her should work stuff out because of our kids—”

“So why exactly did he show up?” The officer cocks his head to the side.

“To apologize and get her back. Why else would he be there? She didn’t want to and that’s when shit hit the fan.” Toji shrugged.

“By ‘shit hit the fan’ you mean when started saying nasty comments? Your wife said he began belittling her, talking about your kids and your relationship? Am I correct?” His brows raise, the tip of the pen to his paper.

“She asked him to leave, and he wouldn’t. He was saying stuff about how are relationship wouldn’t last and how I only wanted to keep her around for…sex. Then he brought up my kids, and that’s when I knocked his ass to floor. Sound bout right?” Toji blinked, completely uninterested.

“You say she asked him to leave and he wouldn’t?” The officer glances up at him for a quick second.

“Yeah,” toji responds.

“Just one more question, you don’t live there right?” The officer folded his hands in front of him.

Toji hesitated to answer. He knew if he said no, they’d probably charge him, but he said yeah, he’d be lying but he probably won’t get charged due to fact Nanami was most likely trespassing. “I do. Been living there for about a month.”

“Alright, that’s all I needed to know. Be back in few.” The chair screeched against the floor as the officer stood and walked out the room.

With a roll of Toji’s eyes he let out a scoff. “Fucking pigs.”

You paced back and forth in the living room, nervously biting at your nails, anticipating the moment Gojo knocked on the door. You couldn’t believe this was happening. It was like the universe had placed some kind of curse on you. Was it so hard to have one good day? Apparently so. The sound of knocking pulled you from your thoughts, wasting no time to unlock the door where you were met with Gojo himself, in sweatpants, a hoodie, and his hair disheveled. It was weird not seeing him dress up for once.

“Gojo.” You quickly hugged him.

“Hey, hey.” He hugged back, stepping into your house. “So, what the fuck happened? Did he seriously get arrested?” He shook his head in confusion.

You let out a deep sigh, just the thought of talking about it made you feel tired, annoyed, upset. You weren’t sure what you were. “Yes? I mean, they dragged both of them away, but Toji hit first.” You plopped down on the couch, holding your head in your hands. “He’s most likely going to jail.”

“He is going to jail,” Gojo corrected. “If they find out he doesn’t live here, and that he swung first…jail time!” Gojo sat beside you. “Depends on how much your ex boyfriend is willing to tell.” He glanced at you.

You groaned in annoyance, falling back onto the plush cushions. “Okay, but he was talking about our kids and saying all shit to me and—”

“You think cops give a shit? All they care about is sending whoever to jail. Toji or whatever his name is. And knowing Toji’s record with the police, he’s not making it out of this one.” Gojo reached into his pocket pulling out a piece of candy. “Want some?”

You glared at him, blinking. Was he serious? “Did you seriously bring candy?” You asked, looking at the piece of taffy he held between his fingers.

“Yeah, I had a whole bag of ‘em. Anyway, you want it?” He held it out to you.

“Gojo, can we please focus right now? What if he gets let off without a warning? That’s good right?” Someway somehow you’re hoping that’s the best possible outcome in this situation.

“Well, then excellent. Wait, did he like bash his face in? Or how bad are we talking?” Gojo narrowed his eyes.

“Gojo, I don’t know! For fucks sake!” You rose to your feet, stress levels rising higher. “How do we even know he’s in jail? He’s probably locked up as we speak!” You were panicking and you weren’t exactly why. Gojo said he’d bail him out for you, so coming up with money wasn’t a problem. It’s the fact that you felt like this was entirely your fault. Your relationship with Kento and your relationship with Toji, everything came crashing down. As a grown woman with two kids, you’d think you’d know better and know how to confront your own feelings without getting others involved but apparently that was impossible for you.

Though, it’s not like you expect Kento to show up on your doorstep this morning wanting to take you back. You felt horrible. He was a good man, sweet and kind, and you, you were still stuck on your ex husband and clearly that hurt him. You were sorry for that, you take responsibility that. But that gave him no excuse to bring your kids into this. Everything about this was so fucked up. Even more than before.

“Listen, relax. They’ll allow him some phone calls if they do lock him up. He will most likely call you, and you’ll spill the great news to him! No problem!” Gojo shrugged it off, reaching into his pocket to pull out another piece of taffy.

“It’s been like three hours already.” You huff.

“Then he’s probably locked up,” he casually said, popping the candy into his mouth.

“Can you take this seriously for one second?” You you take a deep breath, finding the inner strength not to yell and cuss Gojo out just because you were extremely overwhelmed.

“I am! Listen, you know he’s been in jail before! He’s fine!” Gojo swatted his hand, brushing off the situation like it was so casual.

“Yeah, with you! When you two got into that stupid ass bar fight and Shoko and Geto called me at three in the fucking morning!” Your nostrils flared, rolling your eyes at the man in front of you.

“No need to dwell on the past—wait, is that—”

“What?” You looked at Gojo, eyes wide.

“Is that your phone?” He stands up.

You run towards your bedroom, nearly tripping over your own feet as the sound of your phone ringing grew louder. “Fuck where is it?” Your eyes scanned over your dresser and nightstand before you standing tearing your blankets off of the bed. Your phone flew to the floor and you quickly grabbed it, seeing it was an unsaved number. Fuck.

“Hello? Toji?” Your voice shook as you spoke. You could hear slight breathing on the other end.

“Baby…”

tag list (closed):

@sweetpo1son @lovebittenbyevans @ryumurin @he4rts444mi @cherrypieyourface @lemonintrovert01 @ladysi0 @avanly @chilichopsticks @tananaxx @akusrider @irlbungee @my-anime-garden @hnm-mika @antiholdinghandsclub @yharnam-prophet @crankyarchives @nnnancyr @kenqki @ebiharachan @dollcest @whoreforjjkmen @yoyio90 @jaegergirl @r0seandth0rns @blankwashed @ittomain1 @3rdmonday @5seos @weird0o0 @1-800-choke-that-ho @s-j320 @viisgrave @mayajadewrites @jhiyoon @fisherman-boat @mochimoee @cheridrwyy @olanii1019 @vi-ola666 @emmaperdoswife @sucrose-fqn @rhyies-pieces @tojislittleprincesss @sashadonat @ruixrei @zara-zara11 @paper--angel @khyok @ilyanadelarosa @zxnxy @esmedelacroix

[lunebulous]

Playing with your body in non-sexual ways

A.N: This is my first time writing fanfiction. Any feedback is very much appreciated. I hope you enjoy! I have no idea what tags to put here so, just trust me bro. cw: thigh worshipping (zayne), plus-size reader (rafayel).

Xavier

There wouldn’t be a lot of occasions where his caresses would be in a non sexual way - that's why he's known to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. But don't get me wrong, being sexual does not equal condescending or rough. Not for him. - well, sometimes. - It's just that if he focuses too long on your face when you’re sleeping soundly, or when you're admiring the lantern lights at another festival, he gets this sensation that he should own you once more, just to be sure you're his. 

So when he kisses, it's only to leave you wanting more of him.  So when he caresses your body, it's only to let himself know he's the one making your skin get goosebumps.  So when he embraces all of you in a tight hug, it’s only to feel like you’re finally real this time.  And when all of these inevitably turn into that feeling of ownership again, he frowns internally. Initially, he wishes that he was different and that he wouldn’t feel like this everytime he stops to think about you; But it's just so much love that it overflows from his heart, dripping right into the lowest part of his torso. When he realizes, he’s slowly kissing you against the wall again. He can’t help it, he's naturally drawn to you like a magnet. And that feeling gives place to a necessity, a craving that hurts so deliciously he gives up on being different. So when you gasp for air and tug at his hair to breathe a little, he just can’t understand why. Or how can you do this to him. He wants more. And more. And more. He needs it so bad he can’t help but pin your hands to the wall so he can kiss you longer, raveling in the way you squirm under him. After all, just because he can't help it, doesn't mean he's not enjoying every second of the fruits of his own possessiveness.

So he caresses you all the time - the problem is that it often turns into a primal need to own and to explore each cute face - each little sound - you make for him. He feels like a victim to his own desires. Poooor Xavier… (irony included).

Rafayel

Rafayel is completely enamoured by your hands, making sure to always kiss them whenever he gets the chance. When he doesn’t, he’s more than expected to caress them while you wait for food in a nice restaurant, or when you’re walking on the shore with him. He is the king of intertwining your hands all the time - never letting go even if for brief moments. He says his bodyguard should be aware of where he is at all times, and when you replied that having one of your hands busy would actually get in the way if danger arrives, he puffed his chest, saying something along the lines of “i’m lucky I have the best bodyguard that can fight 10 men with only one hand then!”. You sighed, giggling because of him. “You’re not actually expecting me to fight with 10 men without letting go of your hand, right?” “Well, I'm pretty sure that was on your job description when I hired you.”  “No it wasn’t.” “Now it is.”  --- He also kisses and grabs your stomach and love handles all the time, especially when lying down, like now. There were some times when it made you feel a little bit insecure, but he always buried his face on it with a big smile, hugging your waist. When you voiced your insecurity to him for the first time, he simply said: “Well, I never saw a painting of any muse that didn’t have enough body for me to drown in it. - he stares up at you intently, before looking at your stomach again. - In fact, it is the only scenario where drowning would be possible for me. - Now he’s getting a hold of your love handles. - And actually, i'd love it. Thank you, my muse!” Right before nuzzling his face on your belly again, giggling. You blush furiously, caressing his purple locks, but he’s too busy to see it.

Zayne

Zayne would always need a bit of a push to touch you like he wants to - and you know that. He’s slowly coming out of his shell and being more confident when it comes to being intimate with you, getting over his irrational fear of hurting you again. The ‘push’ he got today was seeing you come home after brunch with your friends, wearing a dark and muted red lipstick, blended on your lips so perfectly it reminded him of a vintage doll. He made a note to himself to compliment you later when you had your attention on him - because you were busy taking off your shoes, your coat and yapping about some BIG gossip you just found out. He listens attentively, putting two and two together with you as you happily stride towards him. 

You sit beside him on the couch and hug his arm, leaning on his shoulder. He places his hand between your thighs, trying not to pay too much attention to it - a task quite hard for him, as you were wearing light brown stockings that made your oh-so-loved thighs look even more bite-deserving; But he tries to shake the thought away. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re well-invested in the documentary he is watching, but the position is getting quite uncomfortable now, so you crawl between his legs and rest your back against his chest, both of you laying down on the chaise part of the couch. First he stares at you, finding adorable how you don’t hesitate before making yourself comfortable with him. He lays a chaste kiss on the crown of your head, making you snuggle against him even more, getting it just right like two puzzle pieces. And he swears to himself he’s a good man. He is not going to turn this into something more just because your ass grinded against him innocently, no, no. Breathe, you touch-starved man! 

But the same man now is fighting for his life to NOT look at your thighs, the stockings making them look so shiny for him, he couldn't help himself but imagine the shadows his fingers pressing onto your skin would look like. He imagined you in not-so-innocent lightings more than he’d ever admit, and as his thoughts stray away, he doesn’t notice how he’s been caressing your chest and collarbones for some time now, lightly using his fingertips to circle around your skin, as if memorizing each part of it. Then he's slowly directing his way to your neck, with four fingers on one side and his thumb on the other, going up and down with featherly touches as his eyes are glued to your legs, completely blank, admiring each curve going from the arch of your feet to your calves, and then to your thighs, stopping at the start of your tight skirt. Now he’s gripping your neck - just lightly pressing on it, your airflow is completely free. (for now). You can’t help but wonder what’s going on inside his mind, lying to yourself that feeling his firm hand around your neck is not making you want to rub your legs together, but you're already doing it a bit, discreetly, not knowing you’re being very thoroughly watched. As he’s breathing deeper to try to not get excited, you feel his hand slowly letting go of your neck and you whine inwardly at it. But then his hands hesitantly go higher, his slender fingers sliding across your chin to play with your lips as he remembered to compliment you. He opens his mouth to do it, but being so lost in thought he just stops. Staring at your legs with an empty gaze, completely out of it. God, they’d look so good around his cock. Fuck.  You look up, a bit surprised with his actions, slowly tilting your head to the side, looking at him. - the movement makes him get out of his trance, suddenly confused as to how his fingers got to your lips - but as if reading his mind, you part them, waiting. And then he gets it. The key to making himself touch you like he wants to is just to - not think. It makes sense, it's a part of him he never let himself explore. He then lets himself do what he wants, sliding his middle and index finger on your tongue, experimenting. As you close your lips around them, looking at him so puppy-eyed, he can't help but smirk as realizing he could get used to this very quickly. You start feeling him growing against your ass now.

He presses down on your tongue, smiling. “You look so beautiful wearing this color, love.”

So, Zayne doesn’t play with any part of your body - because as soon as he does it, he gets a problem under his trousers. And now that he knows how to let go of control, - you got one too.

Sylus

Sylus wouldn’t be the type of man to touch you without being full-on intentional with it. The same amount of hate he has towards ‘quickies’, he has for the idea of touching your most sensitive parts without being completely devoted to them. So when playing with you, it is usually filled with admiration and love, silently appreciating your presence by his side. That’s why you often find him mindlessly braiding your hair as you lay your head on his lap to watch a movie, or how he gently runs his fingernails - once claws - on your calf under the table when he’s discussing his next moves with the twins. Yeah, sometimes his hands wander a little bit higher, a little bit firmer, but always looking at you to watch your reaction; as if to just - test the waters, tease you to see your ears turn red.. or warm you up for what’s coming next.

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Hola otra vez! For anyone not familiar with my annoying rambly feedback, ahead there be

This is the end of the first paragraph of the story and it's just so fcking ... like it works SO well for me, it makes me wanna spike a football

it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

logan had no reason to keep count. until he saw you.

Well, if there's any indication a man is smitten, I'd say it's when he decides to keep counting after 200 years on Earth cuz of YOU *ded*

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

It's super interesting to think about Logan in relation to time and age. We just went from him deciding he's got a reason to keep counting the years to him being so tired that he doesn't want to get into petty fights. And as someone who grew up with Logan on the XMen cartoon lol, I know Logan to BE petty. So whilst we can't always think of Logan in terms of age, cuz looking at his appearance can make us forget, to hear that he's so TIRED that he doesn't even wanna squabble up on occasion? Well, that's impactful. The author makes it hit home in this other way and I really like it.

And here's another example of the author getting across to us where Logan is at when we meet him in life:

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls.

Straight up now we have the word tired, but also old. And not in relation to himself, but what he's got eyes on. It's such a clever thing the author has done here, and I really am appreciative of it.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

Sad face. This is very in line with the Logan I think most of us know (and adore). Gotta take all the blame, gotta punish yourself, gotta try to protect others from you by denying yourself connections. Wanna hug him.

he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

Also very on brand for Logan. Sees a need, fills the need, but doesn't want credit for it. He's also seeing someone he believes is worthy (and perhaps not in a way he feels he could ever be?) of more so he tries to be the provider.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . .

And again, we are seeing how smitten he is because the man who has been painted as weary and bored suddenly has questions and wonderings again. That is, in the context of Logan's long a$$ existence, quite magical. But that magic is immediately followed by

though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless. he is an animal, after all.

and it's like

relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it. fuck.

"Relying on others was a weakness" is just hella relatable to me, so I key in on that. And then that ire being followed by showing vulnerability by thinking of her as another person he'd lose; Logan's heart has always been huge and you just know he remembers the faces and details of each person he has had to lose and she has that status already. Logan trying to lie to himself with the "not worth it" talk only to have to curse himself cuz he KNOW he's lying is also peak Logan behavior, and once again on a personal level, hiiiiiiiiiiiiiighly relatable lol. I'm always lying to myself about my own feelings.

you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy.

"Lonely and desperate" self descriptions and Logan referring to himself as "stupid." I'm sure we all wanna shake this old man, right? LOL because when he let's himself think about the truth:

he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything. he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

It's connection, and it's gnawing at him. Loneliness is a helluva thing, and I think a lot of us know this. But this author is shining in the way she is describing it for us, outside of the usual age/years gone by methods. Tired, lonely, and now ravenous. And while we are in the space of a more spiritual hunger, here, it so easily slides right back to physical as well because he's thinking about a woman and wonders

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

Me literally screaming into my pumpkin pillow cuz I'm like NO IT COULDN'T LOGAN, GO GET HERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR cuz I know what's gonna follow is gonna be liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

The self loathing and denial is top tier Logan. He will inconvenience and punish himself just as long as it's in line with denying himself cuz he just "doesn't deserve it." Siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Logan then proceeds to go drain the snake before he beings his newest self inflicted penance, but she comes in to clean the bathrooms thinking they were empty.

Gurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl lol

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again. but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

HOW WAS SHE LOOKING AT YOU, LOGAN?!?! It's funny how if it was almost any other man, I'd snort and be like, sure buddy. But it's Logan so I have ZERO issue believing whatever he saw in her eyes let her know she DOES indeed know him and want ... well, something.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

How interesting to see the contrast of her view of Logan because while he's always looking at her and sworn that he never caught her looking his way, she's letting us know she has definitely looked his way enough to notice he was a man in hiding. And she actually acted respectfully to respect that and not ogle him, which bummed Logan out lol.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

Oof, she's intuitive! So she SEES what he needs and seems to be quite willing to, ahem, deliver for him but WILL HE LET HER is the big question.

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome. no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

I do so love the fact that she's intuitive, curious and sees beyond the big burly handsome cover. He never speaks but look at his eyes and boy, are there a thousand stories waiting to be told. And it's the SAME WAY in the present with her. Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike, it's about to go off.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

Again, I love that this goes beyond physical with her and that she's genuinely intrigued by him and by what probably most others don't see in Logan.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me." logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?" "yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious." he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

No because how is he the King of Self Denial but somehow automatically is giving Dom the first time he approaches a woman he means to get to know? Not even embarrassing at being caught at his blatant perusal of her. SIR.

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up.

When I tell you this BROKE me. King of Self Inflicted Penance. I stg. And it's quite the conundrum to be going through an emotional gut punch when it's immediately followed up with

he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

and we know it is OFF TO THE RACES!!!

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?" you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

OH SH!T, WE HAVE HAN AND LEIA BANTER! They are my OTP so I'm always gonna call a combative in love couple that, but this dynamic is MY JAM and I love that what we seem to have here is a clearly dominant male with a bratty female. I am in Heaven lol

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you.

WE DO TOO, LOGAN!

his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

Always a trip when I am personally attacked by a fic lmaoooooooooo

he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet."

I want to diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie at the giving of instructions and reminder that, HEY WE ARE IN PUBLIC but we are absolutely NOT stopping.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

Excellent dirty taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalk

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

And he praises? *dies again*

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it. you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

I once again must mention top tier dirty talk!

and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has.

Once again, Logan's vulnerability is illustrated here because it's very human and natural to WANT TO BE WANTED so that it's exciting for him makes all the sense.

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it.

*shakes him* He's still so Logan. Trying to convince himself again he is just not worthy. But I also do this to myself which is no doubt why I key on it, mention it, react to it. That just means the author is striking a chord with me and isn't that what we want? To feel resonance and know we are not alone in our experiences?

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

It's a jarring feeling to be really into some hot smut and then have there be an intermission of this caliber. Cuz again, we are seeing into Logan's heart and his internal self who just screams and screams about not being worthy. And it's so painful and wretched for us as an audience cuz we KNOW it's not true and we just wish HE WOULD SEE IT.

you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh?

Even in her blissful state, she is noticing what he likes and trying to provide that for him and I love her for considering him and being thoughtful with him. HE doesn't think he deserves it, but we readers know that he absolutely does so it's sweetness in this midst of lust and shows us that she cares beyond whatever is happening now in this bathroom.

Y'all NEED to go read this cuz the smut is rough but because of the well established connection the author built between these two, it's very intimate despite the circumstances which don't necessarily lend themselves to anything other than a "quickie." Because of what's going on between these two and how well laid out that is for us, we know that the reason this is so rough and intimate is BECAUSE it's not meant for just here and now. But will Logan allow anything more?

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

And again, I love her for her thoughtfulness. She's being soft and tender with him. I'm not sure if it's a conscious effort to keep him from screwing things up (by trying to now brush her off) or if it's just naturally who she is and giving into her instinct to want to be gentle with him and keep him close. Either way, I love love love this moment.

". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

Adore her for infusing humor into the situation and wanting to bring light back into his eyes. Whoever is going to be with Logan needs to have a sense of humor and give him as good as he gives.

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

Is Logan ACTUALLY going to give this thing a chance, and more importantly, HIMSELF a chance?!?!

I hate to quote too much in a story, especially an ending becuase I WANT PEOPLE TO GO READ FOR THEMSELVES but I need @silverskyeline to know that the last 3 paragraphs of this piece are SO FCKING GOOD.

The breakthrough and revelation he has, the tentative willingness to let himself release a burden and not self flagellate? OMGGGGGGGGGGG. Literally all the applause and bravo on this amazing piece. I really really fcking enjoyed it and am so grateful to you for creating and sharing.

It's really a wonderful character analysis or look at who Logan is, the person he think he has to be, with some hot smut that actually isn't a pause in the narrative but continues the throughline of exploring who he is and what he thinks he deserves and how he's giving himself permission to be a man again. I just ... I love this so so much. Thank you again.

'hunger' 18+

worst!wolverine x f!reader (3.9k words) summary: logan can't tear his mind away from the new barmaid at his usual haunt. he tries to resist you, he really does. but when you're both alone in the bathroom, he finds he's not the only one plagued with filthy thoughts. tags: for the 'longing' prompt for logan promptober, set in the bar from the movie, kind of angsty, filthy, pent up logan, alcohol consumption, doggy style, creampie, biting, light choking, pinning wrists, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, implied age gap, sweet ending.

his usual haunts offer comfort, safe nests tucked away down isolated roads, usually requiring quite the drive to find - it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

time spent staring into the grain of the old wood on the bar wondering how the fuck he ended up here. he'd stopped keeping count a long time ago, how long he'd been around, been alive. things get kind of hazy after two hundred years. logan had no reason to keep count.

until he saw you.

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

he's sat at the bar when the bartender clocks off, switching with someone new, someone he'd never seen before. you walk in and his eyes immediately scan your face, your build, your outfit. it's a habit of his, one he hoped he'd grow out of - but logan has learned that he'll never stop assessing for new threats. it's just in his dna.

but what he finds isn't a threat.

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls. he drags his eyes back down to his glass like he's forcing himself to look down the barrel of a gun rather than looking at you, before settling on you once more.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

. . . but what harm can looking do?

a few weeks pass, logan notices you're in every few nights from now on, must have been put on the regular rota. he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

you've never noticed him, or at least, he's never caught you looking in his direction. but he finds himself craving it, willing your eyes to meet his even for a second. the extent of your interactions have been sliding a glass or a bottle in his direction before continuing with your other duties.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . . though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless.

he is an animal, after all.

he wonders if he should switch bars just to distance himself. he couldn't let himself become comfortable with the idea of you. relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it.

fuck.

logan curses himself under his breath for even having this internal debate. you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy. he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything.

he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

no, he finds himself shaking his head as he stands from the bar. he'd take a leak, and leave early. it'd only been a month since he first saw you, he could get over this. switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

the bathroom door swings open and he walks inside, situating himself at one of the urinals. a few moments later, the door swings open again, logan doesn't bother to look over.

"oh, thought these were empty, sorry."

his head turns quickly. it's you, mop in hand. there's an uncomfortable silence that follows.

speak, fucking speak. "it's fine."

you pause, then nod a little and begin mopping the floor.

his eyes are back on the urinal, swallowing hard. was this really going to be your first conversation? with his eyes glaring into old porcelain, dick in his hand? he tries not to picture you stealing glances at him, but he can't help it. is that what he wants?

maybe.

finishing up, he quickly makes his way over to the sinks, pushing his hands under the cool water and rubbing with soap. his eyes flit up to the mirror. and he catches you.

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again.

but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

"all done," you say with a sigh after a few moments, standing straight and gripping the mop but making no effort to leave just yet.

logan eyes you in the mirror, watches how your eyes dance across the room before inevitably landing on him again. he turns to face you, noting the distance between you both in the room.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

you rest your mop against the wall, "you're in here often." you state, it's not a question.

"guess i'm a regular," he replies curtly.

swallowing hard, you continue, "i noticed. i always have to restock the whisky when you come by."

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

"i like a drink." he says with a subtle shrug, just a step away now, eyes never leaving yours.

a small smile tugs at your lips, "i know."

you're not sure what you're really doing. you're supposed to be on shift, designated five minutes to clean the bathrooms. five minutes you'd much rather spend doing someone something else.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome.

no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

you're not sure when or how it happened, but he's right in front of you now, his body almost touching yours. you look up at him with a feigned innocent look.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me."

logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?"

"yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious."

he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

your hands snake down, finding his belt buckle and brazingly begin to unbuckle it. he watches you, eyes fixated on the way your fingers move. he swears he's about to start drooling. but then you move, hands winding up to the buttons on his shirt. you splay your hands across the fabric, eyes widening when you feel what's underneath.

"are you. . . is that-"

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up. he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

he moans, relishing the taste of you, the taste he's thought about for so fucking long. he brings your hands up, pinning them above your head, shifting his grip so one hand easily pins your wrists, leaving his other hand free.

his free hand plants firmly across your upper chest, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your collarbone as he explores your mouth with his tongue. you're lost in the sensation, knees going weak as you allow the older man to have his way with you. he needs this, you know it.

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?"

you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you. his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

the kiss grows in intensity, you wonder how long it's been since he's kissed someone. he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

his hand on your neck gives a gentle squeeze before running down your torso, palming at your jeans suddenly. you try to whimper in pleasure, but he's silencing you with his lips again.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet." logan can feel the material of your jeans begin to damp and he resists the urge to growl, feeling the way the fabric beneath gives way.

you nod, whispering small affirmatives as he touches you through the material. "just give me more," you whine.

and that spurs him on. in a flash he's pushing you into the stall, stealing a few more kisses where he can before he turns you, pushing your back against his chest. his lips find your neck, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along the skin he finds there.

you're like putty in his hands, melting back against him as his hand returns to your crotch, rough hands massaging circles against your clothed core. you resist a moan, exhaling shakily instead as you let him use you.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

you nod quickly as you feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin.

"yeah, thought so," he nibbles on your earlobe, breathing deeply through his nose as he tries to steady himself, preserve the moment. but how can he when you feel this good beneath his fingers, taste this good on his tongue? "tell me you want it."

"want you to fuck me," you whimper almost immediately, suddenly feeling so very needy. there's a hot ache growing between your legs, one you're desperate for him to fill.

logan laughs, "you can do better than that, honey, know you can."

"please," your voice cracks and you swallow back moans as you squirm beneath his touch, "please fuck me-" it becomes apparent to you at that moment that you don't even know his name. your cheeks flush at the thought of letting this stranger, this older man fuck you in the bar bathroom, but actually, you kind of like it that way.

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

with that, he pushes you forward, forcing your hands onto the tank of the toilet to support yourself as he bends you over. his hands find your waist, his hips connecting with yours and slowly grinding his very apparent, large bulge against you.

you let out a whimper, arching your back a little at the sudden contact.

"feel that?" he mumbles, guiding your hips to grind back against him, "feel what you do to me?"

a gasp, "fuck, you're big." you can already tell, the way his bulge is pressing against you, demanding to be felt. you swear you can almost feel it throb through the material.

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it.

pulling back slightly, he roughly pulls your jeans down, practically manhandling you, your underwear disappearing with it. he grabs handfuls of your ass before kneading the skin. "look at that, pretty little ass, all for me."

you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar. "f-fuck!" you whine, feeling the sharp sting, knowing there's a bright red imprint in the shape of his large palm on your ass.

there's some jingling, the sound of his belt being moved out of the way, a zipper. you prepare yourself, or at least you try to, but his cock is already slapping against your backside before you have time to steady your hazy mind.

"you gonna take all of me?" he asks, biting his lip as his aching length slaps against your skin, "think you can?"

you nod quickly, looking over your shoulder at him, "mhm!"

"if you say so. . ." he smirks and positions himself, one hand on your hip and one aiming his cock at your tight little hole.

then, all at once he's sinking in. you gasp, he gasps. and fuck, he is big. you feel that sweet stretch, his cock throbbing against your tight walls as it slowly glides inside. you're whining as it slowly fills you, eyes rolling back at the sensation. but he pulls out a little, only to push back in again.

he's working you up just right, mesmerised by the way you take his cock. his eyes are fixed on your tight hole begging him to enter, loving the slick sound as it pushes inside.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

despite the way your cheeks flush bright red, you can't deny it. you've thought about it more than once, fantasised about it in bed, hoping that one day that stranger from the bar would fuck you so good you forget your own name.

you don't need to reply either, because he knows. he knows from the way your wet hole flutters around him, and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has. he begins to pump into you at a leisurely pace, firm hands on your hips.

"holy fuck, so fuckin' tight," logan grumbles, his deep slow strokes hitting you deep as he bottoms out inside of you.

you try to turn your head, to look up at him, but he grasps the back of your hair, pushing your head down. "nu-uh, keep that head down."

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it. he'll take you, just like this, with your head down and your ass up and his cock buried deep inside you.

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

you feel his thrusts grow rougher, your legs slipping apart as you attempt to hold yourself up, hands planted firmly on the tank of the toilet. you're squeaking softly with each pump, feeling him use you to release his pent-up frustrations. and it felt so fucking good.

with his firm grip on your hair tightening by the second and his other large hand digging into your hip, you begin to bounce back against his motions, sending him even deeper. you both moan in sync with the feeling and you pant softly, cheeks flushing further at the soft 'plap plap plap' of his hips connecting with you, the sound reverberating around the small cubicle.

"that feels so fucking good," you sing, closing your eyes. logan gives a particularly hard thrust, speed picking up. you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh? "keep fuckin' me, just like that, so good. . ."

he groans, wrapping your hair around his fist as he relentlessly pounds into you. harder and harder, deeper and deeper, you're sure you'll have bruises littered over your body before the day is through.

"harder!" you cry, feeling your legs tremble. you're not gonna last long like this, and by the way his cock is twitching inside of you, he isn't either. "i'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum!"

another groan slips from his lips, gritting his teeth as he uses you, watching you take his throbbing cock beneath him. "look so pretty like this, bent over, takin' what i fuckin- shit. . . takin' what i give you."

your body grows hotter, sweat forming on your forehead, each impact pushing you forward roughly. you're really not gonna last long.

he begins to hunch over, his chest flush with your back as he huffs against your neck, fucking you like a rabid animal. you're squealing now, the pleasure swirling in your lower stomach, threatening to send you crashing into bliss. at this point, you don't fucking care if someone walks in and finds you like this, sees his feet planted behind yours underneath the stall. in fact, the thought of the risk sends a bolt straight to your gut.

"yes yes yes," you mutter, feeling your orgasm approaching steadily. you swear you can feel him in your guts. you begin to flutter around him, begging for release, knowing it's going to completely destroy you.

logan can't even form words, just grunts slipping from his lips against the side of your neck. and then he feels it, his cock twitches, his mind reeling with the imminent release. he needs this, oh he fucking needs this.

he bites down on your neck, teeth sinking in slightly as he feels himself release deep inside you, his cum spilling out in strong waves. you feel your knees buckle, but a strong hand planted on your tummy helps keep you upright as he fucks his release deeper into you.

the animalistic nature of his thrusts combined with the sensation of his hot cum painting your insides sends you flying over the edge, your orgasm milking him as you clamp around his aching cock. he slams his hand against the stall wall with a loud metallic bang, splaying his fingers across the metal as if to ground himself as his thrusts falter.

his tongue lazily licks the indents of his bite mark against your neck, groans easing their way from the back of his throat. you can hardly catch your breath, legs still shaking from such an intense release. it's hard to think straight with his dick still buried deep inside, feeling it twitch with every aftershock.

you both stay like that for a solid minute, panting, coming down together. he's planting soft kisses along your neck as your breath slowly comes back to you.

he pulls out, stepping back as he stuffs himself into his jeans. you collapse onto the toilet seat, shakily pulling your jeans and underwear back up as you look up at him. it's clear he's looking to leave, a distant look in his eye, maybe a little shame creeping into his features.

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

you pull back, buttoning your own jeans as you continue to look up at him. ". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

and there it is, a small smirk on his lips as he glances away. "maybe."

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

"i'll see you tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head.

he blinks, suddenly remembering time exists outside this small space seemingly crafted just for the two of you. "yeah," he says, quietly.

"good," you pat his chest before moving past him, leaving the stall. you stand, looking back at him. a beat, "or, you can meet me after my shift ends?"

his eyes widen, taken aback. fuck, had he forgotten how to do this? his eyes flit to the side, before making up his mind. he gives a firm nod.

you smile before leaving him in the bathroom, returning to the bar through the door.

logan stands there for a few moments, running his fingers through his hair. he smooths down his shirt, feeling the suit beneath, a stark reminder always of his past.

but maybe he could begin to take a few steps forward. maybe he deserves more than to suffer forever, forced to keep everyone at arm's length. maybe he could allow himself this small happiness, a date, or whatever this was.

maybe it was time to satisfy his hunger, his loneliness, for good.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

How to Hunt Your Alpha

Yandere Gender Neutral Omega Reader x Male Alpha

CW: Extremely dubious consent, stalking, mention of voyeurism, knotting, pheromones, scenting, scent marking, biting, marking, claiming bites, a/b/o dynamics, omegaverse, breeding cycles/heat, rut scratching during sex, feral sex, general yandere behavior, knotting, breeding, baby trapping, manipulative reader Word Count: 1.2k (This is a commission for @kittycatkandies who was very patient with me. I hope you all like it, this is the first fic I have written with a yandere reader.)

From the moment you saw Clark and caught a whiff of his scent, he had snagged your undivided attention. Now, you weren't the type of omega to just start swooning and let yourself be taken in by any nice-smelling, tall slab of alpha.

No, that's how you had been treated poorly in the past. There were many alphas who just wanted to slick their knots in any omega and didn't care about a relationship or even making sure the omega was satisfied during sex.

But when you passed an alpha on the street, caught his scent, glanced into those kind brown eyes of his, you suspected he was better than the fuck boys, douche weasels, and assorted sad soggy pieces of old toast you had encounters with in the past.

Still... it was just a suspicion... you had to get to know him a good bit better. He may not even be single, though he did not smell as if he was paired up and lacked any fresh marks on his neck. The best way to see if he was right for you was, in your warped mind, to follow him and see how he interacted with others. He definitely passed the test.

You had discreetly followed him back to his place so that following him in the future would be possible. After that you tailed him stealthily several different times. The first time you did so you learned that he volunteered at the nursing home keeping old folks company, another time you caught him donating to and doing volunteer work at the local soup kitchen, and the final proof you saw that he was wonderful and perfect in all things was when you learned that he worked at an animal shelter that specifically took care of elderly animals and those with health conditions.

On occasion you had even caught him wanking through his window. He was perfect in that regard too. The sight of that cock made you drool.

Throughout your many “information gathering” sessions you had ascertained that his name was Clark and he was, as he had initially seemed, single.

But you had a plan to change that. You’d have him begging to mark you up and slick his knot inside you.

You began volunteering at the animal shelter he worked at, making sure to ask him lots of questions, work diligently, and show off your compassionate, caring, stereotypical omega side that alphas always seemed to appreciate.

It worked! Well... kinda... not as well as you had hoped. The two of you had become friends to some extent, but he hadn’t put any moves on you in a romantic or sexual way. You’d just have to step up your game.

You knew he was the type of man to take mating and biting marks seriously. You just had to get him to that point, get him in your heavily scented apartment. And so, you formulated yet another scheme.

The next time you were in heat you endured it as best you could. Full force and with no suppressants. You rubbed your scent over your entire apartment. Every room was scent bombed with your pheromones. Especially the bedroom, of course. Then you wore a scent diffusing scarf and clothing. Then you went on to the animal shelter as usual.

The scarf and special clothing would hide your scent well enough. They were designed so that those who couldn’t or wouldn’t take suppressants could still interact with society without their smell causing chaos during ruts or heats. They did nothing for the other symptoms of a heat though. You’d still appear spaced out, flushed, and feverish. Which was just perfect.

Clark noticed and at the end of his shift he thought you were ill. He wanted to take you to the doctor, you refused though what he asked next was exactly what you had wanted.

“Please at least let me drive you home, you’re in no condition to drive!”

“Well… o-okay… if you insist…”

And so he drove you home and even walked you to the door. When you opened it he was hit by the scent of needy fertile omega and clearly distracted. He didn’t protest as you nudged him in.

Then you stripped off your scarf and clothing and he was hit point blank by fresh pheromones too.

“I… I um… wh-what… um I need some air.”

He tried to collect his wits and step past you but you blocked the exit.

“Just take a deep breath, I think the air is pretty good in here don’t you?”

He muttered something incoherently as you rubbed up against him and nuzzled into his muscular chest.

“Ah y-you’re in heat… Not clear headed… I sh-”

You took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

“Yeah, I’m in heat and you should help me with it~”

This was it. All your efforts were about to pay off. Your heart was pumping faster than it ever had before and your veins felt as if electricity was flowing through them.

Clark’s brain was short circuiting, though you could tell by his aroused scent and the bulge in his pants that he was going to do exactly as you wanted him to. He let you take him to the bed and push him onto it. You removed his clothing for him and stared at his full beauty, finally revealed to you. Well... finally revealed close and in-person.

He grabbed your sides and you wiggled your slick leaking hole right on to his large throbbing cock. He hardly needed to thrust, not with how eagerly you were bouncing up and down on his cock. He came in you quickly. The smell in the air and the feeling of your tight slicked up hole squeezing his length as you bobbed up and down on it were too much for him.

But he had plenty more loads to fill you with. And you weren’t going to stop until you were sure you were impregnated.

His knot swelled inside of you, locking the two of you together and reducing the fervency with which you could slam down on his dick. But the stretch felt amazing and the friction of it rubbing up against all of the most sensitive spots inside of you made you scream his name as you orgasmed again and again over the course of the next few hours.

The two of you were entwined in a near-feral frenzy of pure fucking. Scratching, biting, marking each other up in every place reachable by tooth and nail. Pheromone laden fluid leaked from your neck where he had put his claim mark and from his neck where you had put yours. Both of your eyes were glazed over, consciousness pretty much lost, bodies running on instinct alone.

You awoke the next morning with a smile of contentment on your face. You had successfully seduced the man of your dreams into a rut during your heat and had most certainly gotten him to fuck you pregnant. He was snoozing peacefully underneath you with his arms hugging you protectively. You wrapped your arms around him and let yourself fall back asleep on top of him, relaxed with the knowledge that he would never leave his well marked, pregnant omega.

[aspenmissing]

ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ: ʙᴀᴛʜʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ||

5985 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴜᴅɪᴛʏ (ɴᴏ ɴᴜᴅɪᴛʏ ɪɴ ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ. ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟ) , ᴏᴏᴄ ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ᴍᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ 'ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ' ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ, ʙᴀᴛʜꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɴɢ - ɪɴᴄʀᴇᴅɪʙʟʏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙʀᴜꜱʜ - ʜᴀɪʀ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ/ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

The evening at the workshop in their apartment had been a whirlwind of calculations, late-night tinkering, and discoveries. Jayce sat at his workbench, weary but content with the progress he'd made. You had been there all day, by his side, offering quiet support, and now the sounds of the workshop had quieted down.

"How about a break?" you suggested, stretching slightly, your voice soft and soothing.

Jayce paused, looking up from his work, his eyes meeting yours. There was a weariness in his gaze, but also a quiet appreciation. "Sounds perfect," he said, his voice low but filled with gratitude.

Without another word, the two of you made your way out of the workshop, Jayce trailing slowly behind you to the bathroom, the familiar scent of metal and oil from the workshop lingered faintly, but it quickly gave way to the soft steam as the shower was turned on.

The two of you, both covered in the day's grime and sweat, quickly shed your clothes, stepping into the shower together. The warm water felt like a release from the weight of the day. Jayce stood just behind you, letting the water pour over his shoulders as you reached for the body wash.

"Let me take care of you first," you said softly, your hands gently lathering up the sponge.

You moved behind him, slowly running your hands over his back. The warmth of your fingers against his skin was both soothing and intimate, each motion a silent expression of how much you cared for him. The tension in his muscles began to melt away under your touch, and Jayce let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"That feels amazing," he murmured, his voice thick with relaxation.

You smiled, pleased to see him unwind under your touch. "You deserve it."

After a few moments, Jayce turned to face you, his eyes warm with appreciation. "Your turn," he said, his voice gentle but insistent. He squeezed a bit of body wash into his hands, his fingers gliding over your skin as he began to wash your back. His touch was tender, each motion slow and deliberate, making sure to be gentle, knowing how hard you worked and how much you needed this time to unwind.

His hands moved with care, massaging away the tension in your back. It felt so calming, so loving, that you couldn't help but close your eyes and lean into his touch.

"You're so gentle," you whispered, the warmth of his hands sending a soft shiver down your spine. "I never want this moment to end."

Jayce smiled softly, his gaze tender as he continued to massage your back. "I’ll always take care of you," he replied quietly, his voice full of sincerity. "You deserve nothing less."

As he finished, his hands lingered on your shoulders, pulling you gently into his arms. He pressed his chest against your back, his body warm against yours. You could feel his heartbeat thumping softly against you, and it brought a sense of peace and closeness.

Jayce's lips found the back of your neck, his kisses soft and slow, almost as if he were savouring the moment. He placed another gentle kiss on your skin, moving up to your shoulder, before pulling you even closer, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace.

"I love you," he whispered against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "I just want to hold you like this forever."

You smiled, turning slightly in his arms so you could meet his gaze. "I love you too, Jayce. And please don't ever let me go."

With your arms around each other, standing beneath the warm shower, you both stayed there, savouring the quiet intimacy of the moment. No words were needed as you held each other close, surrounded by the warmth of the water and the even warmer connection between you.

VIKTOR

The evening at the workshop had been filled with quiet determination. Viktor, as always, had been hunched over his workbench, lost in the intricacies of his projects. His cane was propped up beside him, his brace still firmly in place. The toll of his condition had been ever-present, but there was a softness in the way he moved, an acknowledgment of the little things that made life more bearable—like having you by his side.

You had been working alongside him, but now, as the day wound down, you could see how worn out he was. His movements were slower than usual, his body clearly aching from long hours at the bench. You walked over to him, offering a small smile as you gently touched his shoulder.

"Viktor," you said softly, "how about a break? A nice shower? You look like you could use one."

Viktor looked up, the usual spark in his eyes dimmed slightly by exhaustion, but he returned your smile. "I suppose I could use a bit of relaxation," he admitted, though there was a slight hesitation in his voice. He’d never been one to ask for help, but with you, he allowed himself to let down his guard.

You helped him to his feet, steadying him as he leaned on his cane. His movements were deliberate, slow, but there was still that same sharp intelligence in his eyes, even as the pain of his condition settled in. Together, you made your way to the small, private bathroom attached to the workshop, where you had set up a little corner of comfort for moments like these.

The shower was already steaming by the time you arrived, and Viktor gave a small, tired laugh as he looked at the stool that was positioned under the warm spray.

"Only you would think to have a stool in the shower," he teased, his voice light despite the heaviness of his body. "You really do know me."

You smiled, nodding as you helped him to sit down. "I just want to make sure you're comfortable," you replied, your voice tender and caring.

As Viktor settled onto the stool, you carefully removed his leg brace, setting it aside before doing the same with his back brace, both actions performed with practiced ease. He leaned slightly into you as you worked, his body grateful for the moment of relief. The small stool provided him the perfect support as he sat under the warm spray of the shower, his cane resting securely against the wall outside.

You adjusted the temperature of the water just right, the steam enveloping the space, and you took a deep breath, the air smelling of soap and the comfort of home. As you reached for the shampoo, a soft, familiar tune began to hum from your lips, the melody gentle and soothing. It was a song you often hummed to calm yourself and, now, Viktor as well. Your fingers worked through Viktor’s hair with a tender, practiced touch, massaging the shampoo into his scalp.

Viktor leaned back slightly, closing his eyes, the weight of the day starting to lift from his body as your soft humming surrounded him. His mind, always filled with thoughts, slowed for a moment as he allowed himself to simply be, his body grateful for the care you were giving him.

The hum continued, filling the space with a peaceful warmth. Viktor’s accented voice, thoughtful as always, broke the silence. "You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I appreciate these small moments," he murmured, his words trailing off as he relaxed further under your touch.

You continued humming, your fingers gently working through his hair, never faltering in your attention to him. "You don't need to," you replied quietly, your voice soft and loving. "I do this because I want to. You deserve this care, Viktor."

His lips curved into a small, tired smile as he let the sound of your humming wash over him. "You make the world feel a little less heavy," he whispered, the emotion in his voice barely masked by his usual calm demeanour. "Even in these quiet moments... I feel like I can breathe."

The two of you shared the quiet intimacy of the moment, the sound of water and your humming blending together, creating a peaceful lull that allowed Viktor to release the tensions of the day.

His breathing slowed, but his mind, as always, was racing. "You know, I've been thinking," he began, his voice soft but filled with the familiar depth of his thoughts.

You let out a light laugh, your fingers continuing to massage his scalp with gentle care. "Of course you have," you replied with a playful tone.

Viktor shook his head lightly at your response, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, as he continues, "The future is... well, uncertain. So much can change in an instant. But with you, it feels... more steady. Like I can trust in something beyond all the... calculations and equations."

You smiled, his words both soothing and touching. "I trust you, Viktor. You’ve brought so much to this world already. You’re brilliant. And, more than that... you’re kind. That’s what matters."

His lips quirked into a smile, though he didn't open his eyes. "I don't know about all that," he murmured. "But I appreciate your faith in me." He shifted slightly, his hand gripping the edge of the stool. "I’m just... trying to do something worthwhile before it’s too late."

You continued massaging the shampoo into his scalp, your fingers moving carefully, soothingly, as he rambled on, lost in his thoughts. "Do you ever stop thinking, Viktor?" you asked playfully, your voice light.

Viktor chuckled, though it was a sound full of weariness. "No, I suppose not. I could do with a bit more silence sometimes. But then again, I wouldn’t be here without my mind always racing. I suppose it’s a gift and a curse."

You rinsed the shampoo from his hair, your hands gently running through the strands to ensure they were clean. Viktor let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing under your touch.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For being patient with me... for everything."

You smiled, moving to grab the conditioner, but Viktor’s hand reached up, lightly brushing your wrist. "Let me," he said, his voice soft yet insistent.

You hesitated but then nodded, allowing him to take the bottle from your hand. Viktor applied the conditioner to his hair with steady hands, still talking, as his mind never seemed to slow.

"You know, I’ve been thinking about the long term... If I could ever fix things, if I could somehow regain what I’ve lost..." His voice trailed off, but you could hear the weight behind his words. "I’m afraid, sometimes. But then I remember... you’re here. And that thought alone makes everything feel... less daunting."

You leaned in, your lips brushing gently against his temple. "I’ll always be here, Viktor. You don’t have to face anything alone."

He smiled softly, his heart full of affection as you finished rinsing his hair. When you were done, Viktor leaned back slightly, taking a deep breath. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, he reached for you, his arms wrapping gently around your waist, pulling his face to your stomach.

"Thank you for being my anchor," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "For being here, even when I’m at my most... complex."

You gently wrapped your arms around his head, brushing a few stray locks of hair back from his ear as you smiled down at him. "You’re my anchor too, Viktor," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. "We’re in this together, no matter what."

And there, in the small, steam-filled bathroom, the two of you stayed close, the warmth of the shower and the soft sound of water surrounding you. Viktor, despite his struggles, found solace in your presence—just as you found peace in being with him.

JAYVIK

The warm water cascaded down, filling the small bathroom with the comforting sound of a steady shower. The steam curled around you and Viktor, who sat on the small stool beneath the gentle spray, his cane resting against the wall outside. You were seated on the shower floor, sat between VIktor's legs and your head tilted back as Viktor carefully washed your hair.

A soft laugh escaped you as you continued telling Viktor the story. "So, I heard this one from a friend the other day," you said, the sound of your voice light and playful. "A woman walked into a bakery and asked for a dozen donuts. The baker, seeing she was holding a massive bag of flour, said, 'You sure you need all of those? You're already carrying a whole bakery with you!'"

Viktor’s lips curled slightly in amusement as he gently massaged shampoo into your hair, his touch careful and methodical. "I take it your friend isn’t lacking for wit," he remarked, his voice carrying the faintest hint of a smile.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of the moment. "Oh, no, she’s always full of them. It's a bit dangerous, actually. You never know when she’ll throw out some ridiculous one-liner."

Viktor hummed in response, his hands continuing to work through your hair with a soft, practiced rhythm. "It’s good to have people like that around. Keeps things interesting."

"Definitely," you agreed, your smile widening. "Life's way too serious if you don’t have some humor."

Just as Viktor was rinsing out the shampoo, you heard a soft sound from the bathroom door—one that grew louder as footsteps approached.

"Hey! What about me?!" came a familiar voice, one that immediately made you smile.

Jayce appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed and a pout on his face. His gaze flicked between you and Viktor, clearly unimpressed. "You two just couldn’t wait to start the fun without me, huh? You’re lucky I’m not offended."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. "Oh, stop whining, Jayce. It’s just a shower," you teased. "You could have joined us anytime."

Suddenly, Jayce shot you a cheeky grin, his mischievous spark lighting up his face. And before you could even question his look, Jayce strips off his shirt and pants with a dramatic flair, sending a wink your way. He stepped into the shower and immediately nudged you playfully. "Scoot a boot," he said, making a motion with his hand as he settled behind you. "Make some room. I'm coming in."

With a teasing groan, you shuffled a bit, sitting up as Jayce comfortably slid in behind you, his legs folding on either side of you. He took your space between Viktor's legs, and before you knew it, you were nestled between him, your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around your waist.

Viktor raised an amused eyebrow but didn’t comment. "Well, since I’ve already taken care of Y/N," he said with a smirk, "I suppose it’s only fair I wash Jayce’s hair now." He gave a small, dry chuckle as he grabbed the shampoo and positioned himself behind Jayce.

Jayce, seemingly comfortable in his new position, chuckled lightly. "Hey, don’t mess it up, Viktor. I’m trusting you with this precious mane."

You snickered at his words but then found yourself leaning back more, trying to relax in the little space between them. The warmth of the shower enveloped all three of you as Viktor began to gently work the shampoo through Jayce’s hair. Jayce let out a contented sigh as Viktor’s fingers worked their magic.

You, not one to let silence take over, continued to ramble away. "You know, I was thinking the other day about something odd, but funny. Do you think animals have favorite foods, or do they just eat whatever’s in front of them? Like... if a dog was given a steak and a peanut butter sandwich, would it know the difference?"

Jayce let out a small laugh. "Knowing you, you probably spent a good amount of time pondering that, huh?"

"I mean, if you think about it, it’s a weird question," you replied, smiling at the absurdity of your own thoughts. "It’s like they don’t have taste buds the way we do, but maybe they have their own version of favorites?"

Viktor, continuing to rinse Jayce’s hair, gave a quiet chuckle at your musings. "I imagine they must. Though I highly doubt a dog is contemplating its culinary choices the same way you do."

Jayce grinned and playfully nudged you. "Yeah, we’re the ones complicating things here. Dogs? They’re just living their best life, getting treats whenever they please."

As Viktor finished massaging the last of the shampoo through Jayce’s hair, you sighed contentedly, completely at peace in the quiet, shared moment between the three of you. The sound of water was soothing, and despite the playful bickering and light teasing, there was a warmth to the atmosphere—a deep comfort in being with them.

It was moments like this that made everything else fade away, the world outside of the bathroom no longer mattering. In this space, there was only the three of you—together.

VANDER

Vander had spent the evening closing up The Last Drop, ensuring everything was locked up tight for the night. As the kids settled into bed, he couldn’t help but glance over at you, swaying gently on your barstool, a grin plastered on your face as you giggled at something only you seemed to find amusing. It was clear you had indulged in more than a couple of drinks tonight, your words slurring and your movements a little too carefree.

He chuckled softly to himself, a warm, affectionate smile crossing his features. "Alright, love," he said, his deep voice filled with amusement, "let's get you upstairs, huh?"

You turned your head to him with wide, slightly unfocused eyes, your lips curling into a grin. "Vander," you said, your voice teasing and dreamy, "you know you’re my favorite, right? I mean, who else would take care of me like you do?"

He raised an eyebrow, helping you steady yourself as you tried to stand. "I’m your favorite? And here I thought it was Powder," he teased as he gently guided you toward the stairs.

You shook your head, stumbling a little as you leaned against him for support. "Nope, it’s you. You’re big and strong, and you’re always so... so calm. Like, you have this thing about you," you said, waving your hands around as if the words were escaping you in a wave of giggles.

Vander simply chuckled, leading you into your shared room and gently sitting you on the bed for a moment. He couldn't help but smile at your antics, shaking his head. "Alright, let’s get you cleaned up before you start singing the praises of my muscles or something," he said, already pulling your shoes off and gently tugging at your clothes.

You giggled again, clearly delighted by the whole situation. "Oh, I think I’d rather... rather see you flex those muscles," you said, your words slurring more as you spoke. Vander gave a soft laugh, amused but not bothered, before he undressed you slowly, making sure not to rush it, even if you were far from steady on your feet.

He helped you stand, guiding you toward the ensuite bathroom, where the warm steam from the shower already filled the air. He turned the water on, adjusting it to just the right temperature, and as you stumbled a bit, he placed a steadying hand on your back. "Alright, love, sit down for me," he instructed gently, leading you to the bathtub.

You plopped down into the tub with a small huff, the cool porcelain against your skin bringing you back to reality just a bit. "You’re so nice to me, Vander," you mumbled, your voice still a little distant as your eyes tried to focus on him.

Vander rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, then reached for the showerhead. He kept a soft smile on his face as he kneeled beside you, the warm water cascading over your hair. He grabbed the shampoo bottle and, as the water splashed against your skin, he gently began to lather it into your hair. "I’m just doing my job, love," he said in a soothing tone. "Taking care of you, like always."

You tilted your head back, your gaze unfocused but somehow full of affection. "You’re the best," you said softly, as if it were a secret between the two of you. "I love how you never... never get mad at me."

Vander chuckled, his hands gently massaging your scalp as he worked the shampoo in. "Well, someone’s got to be the calm one around here," he teased, his fingers working through your hair with a tenderness that came naturally to him. He glanced up, his eyes soft and amused as he watched you relax, the alcohol starting to take a back seat to the comfort of his presence.

"Do you know what I think?" you suddenly said, your words slipping out in a half-ramble. "I think... I think you should wear more shirts like that. You look so... handsome."

Vander’s lips curved into a smirk, unable to resist the warmth in your tone. "You’re a bit tipsy, aren’t you?" he teased lightly, but he couldn’t hide the fondness in his voice.

You smiled dreamily, nodding. "Just a little," you said, leaning back into the tub, your head cradled by the warm water as it rinsed away the soap. "But I still love you."

He smiled back at you, his hands tenderly rinsing your hair. "I love you too, more than you know," he replied, his voice full of quiet affection. He continued washing your hair, the warm water cascading over your skin as he patiently humoured your nonsensical ramblings. It wasn’t a perfect night, but it was a peaceful one, and as long as you were with him, that was all that mattered.

SILCO

The soft flicker of candlelight cast delicate shadows across the room, its warm glow mingling with the sweet scent of lavender and rose petals. The classical music that filled the air was gentle and soothing, wrapping around the room like a soft embrace. You lay in the bathtub, bubbles up to your chin, head tilted back, eyes closed in perfect relaxation. The warm water swirled around you, and every inch of your body seemed to melt into the comfort of the bath. It was a rare moment of peace, and you savored every second of it.

The door creaked softly as it opened, and you heard Silco’s voice calling your name, a hint of amusement in it. "Y/N?"

You hummed in response, too relaxed to speak, your eyes still closed. There was a small pause before the sound of footsteps filled the room. Silco stepped inside, his figure dark against the soft candlelight, his jacket and gloves absent, leaving him only in his dress pants and waistcoat. His sharp eyes scanned the scene in front of him—your form resting in the bath, the flickering candles casting a soft glow on your skin, and the air filled with the calm melody of the classical music.

Silco’s lips curled into a small smile as he chuckled lightly. "I see you’ve made yourself quite comfortable," he said, his voice soft and amused.

You opened your eyes slowly, your smile warm as you saw him standing there. "Just thought I’d indulge a little," you replied, your voice airy, still wrapped in the relaxation of the moment. "It’s been a long day."

He walked over and lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the floor beside you, his waistcoat wrinkling slightly as he settled. His eyes lingered on you, a soft intensity in them as he took in the sight of you so peaceful, so serene. "I can see that. But," he mused, voice almost teasing, "you didn’t wait for me to join you?"

You tilted your head slightly, a playful glint in your eyes as you met his gaze. "I figured you were busy," you teased, your fingers absently tracing the surface of the water. "But now that you’re here, I’m sure I could make room for you."

Silco raised an eyebrow at your playful tone, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. "You always do find a way to get me involved," he said, though there was warmth in his voice, something softer than his usual cool detachment. "But I don’t think I’d fit in here as well as you do."

You chuckled softly. "Maybe not, but you’d look dashing regardless."

He let out a quiet laugh, leaning back slightly as his eyes lingered on the scene, the soft glow of the candles reflecting in his gaze. "I doubt the water would stay as pristine as it is with me in it," he said, voice still warm but filled with that signature dry humor.

"True," you said with a melodic laugh. "But it would be worth it just to see you try."

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the soft sounds of the music and the flickering candlelight filling the space between your quiet exchanges. You allowed your head to tilt back again, eyes closed, the warmth of the water easing away the tension in your body. Silco’s presence beside you was grounding, and the intimacy of the moment wrapped around you both.

After a few moments, Silco spoke again, his voice more thoughtful this time. "You know," he began, eyes glinting slightly, "you’ve always been a bit of an enigma to me. Always calm, collected... yet I can see how easily you lose yourself in moments like this." He glanced over at you, his gaze softening as he continued. "I never really understood it until now. But perhaps... it’s not so bad. Seeing you like this."

You met his gaze, a quiet understanding settling in. "It’s important, I think," you said softly, your voice almost a whisper as you traced your fingers through the bubbles, "to find peace where we can, even in a world like ours."

Silco didn’t speak immediately, his gaze distant as he processed your words. The quiet of the room wrapped around you, and for the first time, it felt as if you were both suspended in time, the outside world far away. After a long pause, Silco spoke again, his voice quieter than before. "Perhaps I’ve spent too long trying to control everything around me," he murmured, his tone softer, more vulnerable than usual. "I’ve forgotten what it feels like to simply be still."

You smiled gently, your hand resting on the edge of the tub. "You’ve always been still in your own way," you said quietly. "Even in the chaos. You just don’t notice it."

Silco’s lips twitched slightly, his sharp gaze turning to you with something softer behind it. "I think you’ve always known how to calm me," he admitted, his voice a little raspier, a touch of sincerity in it. "It’s an odd thing, isn’t it? You make me feel like I could breathe for the first time in years."

The classical music played on, its soft strings almost like a lullaby now, filling the room with an air of serenity. Silco shifted again, sitting a little closer, his gaze never leaving you. "Perhaps we should make moments like this a regular occurrence," he said, his voice softer than it had been when he entered. "I’m beginning to understand their value."

You nodded, a sense of contentment settling over you as you gazed at him. "I’d like that," you said softly. "A little stillness every now and then... it’s something we both deserve."

Silco’s lips parted just slightly, a rare, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You always know just what to say."

You chuckled lightly, the sound of it warm and carefree, before sinking deeper into the tub, letting the water soothe you further. "I’ve had practice."

As the minutes passed, the two of you remained in your quiet corner of the world, the flickering candles, soft music, and your peaceful conversation surrounding you both. It was a fleeting moment of calm, but in that moment, nothing else seemed to matter.

POWDER/JINX (PLATONIC!)

Jinx sat in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror with a deep scowl etched across her face. Her once vibrant blue hair, now a tangled mess, fell around her shoulders in wild strands. She held the brush in her hands, staring at it as if it might magically fix the knots in her hair. She gave it another try, attempting to work through the tangles, but each tug only seemed to make things worse. Frustration built up in her chest as she gritted her teeth, her hands trembling slightly from the effort. The more she tried, the more helpless she felt, and soon enough, she simply gave up, slumping back against the chair, her eyes narrowed in frustration as she stared at her reflection.

"Ugh, stupid hair!" she muttered under her breath, glaring at the brush like it had personally wronged her. She groaned loudly and dropped it onto the floor, arms crossing over her chest in defeat. “Why does it have to be so damn complicated?”

Her blue locks now lay in a chaotic heap around her, making her look even more disheveled than usual. Jinx sighed deeply and kicked the sink cupboard in irritation, eyes dropping to the scattered hairbrushes and combs in front of her.

As she sat there, wallowing in frustration, she didn't hear the soft knock on her door.

"Jinx?" came a gentle voice, warm and familiar.

Jinx’s head shot up, her eyes brightening for a second before she wiped her expression clean of irritation. "Oh, uh... come in!" she called out, trying to sound like everything was fine, though her frustration still lingered in her tone.

The door creaked open, and there you stood in the doorway, peeking inside with a gentle smile. Your eyes immediately locked onto her tangled mess of hair. “I heard some pretty dramatic groaning from in here,” you said, stepping into the room and raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on, kiddo?”

Jinx slumped back into her chair, groaning again. "This stupid hair... I washed it, but now it’s all knotted and I can’t get it to brush out. It’s like it hates me."

You smiled softly at her, walking over to kneel beside her. You ran your fingers through the strands, noting how thick and soft her hair was, despite the tangles. "I see," you said, eyes full of understanding. "That can be a pain. I remember when I used to struggle with that too."

Jinx shot you a skeptical look, but there was a soft curiosity in her eyes now. "You? Struggle with hair?" She raised an eyebrow. "I can’t even imagine you having problems with your hair."

You laughed gently, a quiet, soothing sound that seemed to settle her just a little. “Oh, trust me, it wasn’t always this easy. I had my fair share of knots and tangles when I was growing up. In fact..." You paused, glancing down at the mess of blue hair in front of you. “My mother used to help me when I couldn’t get mine untangled. And let me tell you, she was a master at it. She taught me all the tricks.”

Jinx’s eyes softened slightly at the mention of your mother. You had often spoken of her with fondness, telling stories of the care she took in raising you. For a moment, Jinx felt a pang in her chest—something she hadn’t quite felt before. That warmth, that connection. She’d never had that kind of maternal guidance, but she liked hearing your stories.

"How’d she help you?" Jinx asked, her voice softer than before.

You smiled and gently took the brush from her hand, running it through the strands of her hair with practiced ease. "First, she taught me that you’ve got to be patient with it," you said, your voice calm and comforting. "You can’t rush. You take your time, work through the tangles slowly, and remember to be gentle. Like this."

As you carefully started brushing through the knots, you noticed Jinx’s body slowly relaxing, her posture softening under your gentle care. In the reflection of the mirror, you could see her eyes following your every move. Every now and then, your own gaze flickered to hers in the mirror, catching her watching you with a look that was part curiosity, part trust.

"You’re really good at this," Jinx commented, the tension in her voice melting away as you worked through the last of the knots.

You chuckled softly. “It’s not just about the brushing. You’ve got to keep the hair untangled as you go. Otherwise, it just gets worse. And once you’ve got the tangles out, you can do fun things with it—like braids."

"Braids?" Jinx repeated the word, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. “Like... the cool ones you see in the old books?”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling as you finished brushing her hair. You gently separated the strands into sections and began braiding them, guiding Jinx through each step slowly. "My mom used to tell me stories while she braided my hair. She said that braids could help protect your hair, make it stronger. And she always said braids were a sign of care—when someone takes the time to braid your hair, it means they care about you."

Jinx looked down at your hands, her expression thoughtful. In the mirror, she caught a glimpse of the way your fingers worked through her hair, the gentleness of your touch, and the care in your movements. “I... I think I’d like that. To have my hair done like that. Maybe it’s not so bad, this hair thing.” She shifted in her seat, and you saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips in the reflection.

You continued braiding, the room quiet save for the soft classical music filling the space, the gentle rhythm of your hands working with the hair like a lullaby. "You know, my mom also told me that hair carries memories. It’s like every braid, every knot, tells a story,” you said, your voice soft. “It’s funny—now, every time I look at my hair, I can almost hear her telling me stories of when I was little. Things she used to do when I was upset.”

Jinx looked at you through the reflection of the mirror, her fingers absently playing with the edge of her sleeve. “What kind of stories?” she asked, genuinely intrigued.

You smiled and finished the braid, gently running your fingers through it. “Oh, all kinds. She’d tell me about how she’d help her own mother with her hair, and how they’d talk about everything. About life, about what it meant to be strong even when things felt impossible. She’d say that no matter how tough it got, you always had to keep going, because you never know when something beautiful might come out of it.” You paused for a moment, glancing at Jinx in the mirror. "It made me feel like I wasn’t alone. Like, no matter what, she was always there."

Jinx’s eyes seemed to soften, and for a brief second, her usual wild energy was replaced with something quieter, more tender. “I never had that,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I always had to do things myself.”

You smiled at her reflection, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. "You don't have to do everything alone, Jinx. Not anymore."

Jinx blinked, her eyes bright with a mix of emotion she wasn’t sure how to process. But in that moment, the two of you shared something unspoken, a bond of care and understanding that transcended everything else.

The braid, now finished, lay perfectly in her hair, and you gently tugged it, just enough to show it off. “There we go,” you said with a soft smile. “Now you’re ready to take on the world, Powder.”

She looked in the mirror, at her reflection, and a small, genuine smile tugged at her lips for the first time in a long while. “Thanks, Y/N. This... feels nice. Maybe I’ll keep it like this. You know... like how you used to do.”

You smiled back, happy to see that small spark of joy in her eyes. "Anytime, kiddo. Anytime.

[helianthus-tarot]

FUTURE SPOUSE: Challenges to overcome or events to experience before meeting them

As written in the title. I posted the extended version on my Patreon which includes at what stage of life will you meet 👀❤️ There are also other 90+ readings on Patreon so definitely check it out, pick a card reading is posted every week plus extra mini pac every month! 🎉

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Instructions: Focus on the topic and ask yourself the question. Choose a number/picture that you feel the most drawn to or that you can’t stop looking at. Trust your intuition. May the message resonate. Let me know which pile you choose! Feedback is appreciated!

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PILE 1 

Challenges to overcome or events to experience in your life before meeting them: 2 of Swords, Wheel of Fortune, 7 of Pentacles, Knight of Swords, 8 of Cups. 

I think it’s got something to do with a change in your life path; things in your life moving in a direction that is unexpected, or that is different from what you initially visualised your life to be. There may be some external events that will be contributing to this development, that will be nudging you in this direction, or that will make you aware of this path. For some of you, it will involve a change in fortune; meaning that, if you take this new path that is being presented to you, you may feel like there’s a possibility that you can change your fortune. For others of you, this path will come to the surface the further you work in the direction that you think you are going. It’s like, let’s say you are currently working on X, but the more you work on X, the more Life directs you to Y path, or the more Y path becomes visible to you. X and Y may be related, they may be logical outcomes of each other. Like, pursuing a film major and wanting to work at X company, but then instead of going to X, you are presented a choice to go to Y organisation instead which will take you to a place you didn’t consider before. It’s that kind of event. 

Whatever it will be, you will have to make a decision, and this decision may cause some internal conflicts; you won’t know what you should choose. For many of you, this decision may involve you leaving something behind; this could be a place, an old idea of how you think your life should develop, it could be a project or skill you’ve been working on, or it could also be a relationship, if you’re in a relationship. For the latter, it feels like the typical event in films where one character has to break things off with their partner because they are asked to move, or they want to take on a project somewhere else and they can’t make the relationship work. This change of events may also highlight what isn’t working out in this relationship, path or place.  

You may also be asked to assertively solve your problems; the solutions may be presented to you by Life itself, and you may come to a standstill where you have to make that decision. In order to progress, in order to reap your hard work, you may need to be more assertive or direct in pursuing certain things, and this will lead to a change in fortune. So yeah, there will be introspection, inner conflicts, not knowing which decision to make—your heart and your mind will be pulled in different directions, or you’ll feel like there are many things that make it difficult for you to make a decision. But I think, at the same time, the answer will be clear to you. There may be a change of perspective, or Life may show you something which will make it clearer to you, and you may choose to move on from whatever it is in the past, in search for something better for you, in the direction of what you believe will help you progress and change your fortune. 

Advice for you is to stay centred in yourself, maintain that emotional balance and maturity, and be patient with yourself. I think the answer will be obvious, but the process of coming into the answer may require you to be confident in your ability to make decisions, it may require you to sit in your feelings and hear yourself out, it may require you to have a mature outlook instead of just following purely feelings or purely logic. For some of you, you may also need to believe that if you’re destined for a relationship, it’s not going to miss you. If you’re destined to be with someone, your relationship isn’t going to fail. There may need to be some reliance in the Universe with regard to your relationships, and about your emotional fulfilment. To remain strong in yourself, and trust that whatever wish or hope you send out to the Universe will not miss you even if you suddenly change your direction. I do feel like there’s a strong message that you will take this new path or that you will follow the direction that Life shows you; whether or not you’ll leave behind your current relationship (for those of you who are in a relationship). 

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! At what stage of life will you meet them? What will be going on in your life at that time? Will it happen when you are living your dreams, or when you get a new job, etc? Find out here! 😘❤️

PILE 2 

Challenges to overcome or events to experience in your life before meeting them: The Lovers, 9 of Cups, 6 of Cups, The World, Wheel of Fortune. 

I think you will be pursuing your passion here, or dream, especially something that is related to your past or childhood passion. For some of you, you will do this just for fun; it’s just one of the things that you’ll do because it brings you enjoyment, and it makes you get closer to yourself. It feels like a desire to express the highest form of yourself, or to be in that joyful and dreamer energy; this dream, passion, path will feel achievable to you. For others of you, you may have a bigger goal; you will have imagined that pursuing your passion or doing this thing will eventually lead you to something bigger, like you could move to a bigger stage, you could go global or international—there's something with the external world, I’m talking about something big, something that will feel like destiny to you. You may have imagined this for yourself, and because of this, you’ll pursue whatever path this is.  

Regardless of what your goal will be, you will reach it and you will live that experience; it will feel expansive, it will feel lucky, it will feel like you’ve achieved your dream or wish, it will feel like this is one of your highest accomplishments—especially one that represents who you are, your talents, your soul. It will make you feel like you are on the track of self-actualisation, or you have done something that has a spiritual meaning to you. Something will reach an end (this is not negative) and reward will come, and you will enjoy it. So you will have done something here related to what I’ve just mentioned—possibly passion, wish, etc—and you will feel on top of the world, you will feel achieved and things in your life will feel like it’s moving in an interesting direction, a bit unpredictable but it will feel expansive. For some of you, you’ll meet your person either during that stage (after the end / achievement has just come to be) or after this stage entirely; but for others of you, the message will be in the next section. 

This may involve you meeting someone from your past, especially past lovers or partners. I’m not sure if you will get into a relationship with them again (some of you might, and they might be your future spouse). But either way, you will feel positive about this past encounter—or this past encounter will lead to you getting in touch with yourself and pursuing what brings you the highest enjoyment, which will eventually lead you to your person. Of course, like I mentioned before, for some of you, this is you reconnecting with your childhood memory, passion or dream, and you will do something about it that will lead to a sense of achievement and accumulation of experience, and it will feel lucky. This may also involve getting in touch with many people—there could be many emotional interactions or connections here—especially with the general public. For others of you, this may be talking about people online, people abroad, people from different countries. I think your life at this point may also make so much sense; there are a lot of circles in the cards, so it feels like something that started in the past and will reach the point where it connects back to where it begins—so it becomes whole. You will feel whole too. This will generally be a positive experience. 

Advice for you; keep working on yourself, your path, your skills or whatever it is that you’ve got your eye on. Constant learning, constant improvement (but with curiosity and light-heartedness of a child, instead of stress and jadedness of an adult) and constant movement towards what you feel called to—these will eventually lead you to your person. Your progress and movement do not have to be fast; they just have to be consistent. You are advised to hold on to that optimism, the belief that can you do amazing things. You are also advised to connect with the society, community, the world around you—what I meant by connect is not necessarily socialising; it’s more about your emotional connection with the world outside yourself. Connect that to the work that you are doing. For some of you, this may feel a bit exhausting sometimes, so take your breaks, but always come back to that hopefulness and that diligence, and put in the effort to reach the stars. 

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! At what stage of life will you meet them? What will be going on in your life at that time? Will it happen when you are living your dreams, or when you get a new job, etc? Find out here! 😘❤️

PILE 3 

Challenges to overcome or events to experience in your life before meeting them: 7 of Pentacles Rx, Justice Rx, 3 of Swords Rx, 5 of Swords, The Fool. 

Yeah, this will be a challenge. For some of you, this challenge has been brewing under the surface, so it will come out and you will realise it or you will be made to realise it—you can’t pretend it’s not there anymore, or you can’t try to hold on to it anymore, you can’t try to prolong the heartache anymore. For others of you, certain events will be obvious but some events may be quite hidden, so at first you may not understand what’s truly going on (what forces are at play), or what you are supposed to do. And when you do realise it, you may try to suppress or hold off your emotional reaction to it, not sure why. It could be that you will try to hold on to something here, something you’ve been putting effort into or investing yourself in, something that you are emotionally attached to—anything like that. 

I feel like for many of you, this challenge will involve people. There may be misunderstandings, arguments, or disagreements, or people misjudging you / your intention and words. For a few of you, it may feel like bullying; I’m not sure if it is, but it may feel that way. It’s like within a friend group, something happens, and people take sides and you feel like you are standing alone. Something like that. For some of you, it may feel like you’re trying to manage multiple perspectives, or juggle different sides / opinions to the point that it’s hurting you. For others of you, it will be a battle of some kind, it could be related to law—I'm not seeing anything super big or significant though so this may be something like contract issue or small dispute. There will be a feeling of being treated unfairly though, like there will be unfairness somewhere, some kind of injustice and imbalance. You may also feel like you can’t freely express your hurt about the situation; because for some of you, the unfairness or injustice may be hidden. Like you will be able to feel it but it may not be addressed out in the open. Some of you will hurt some people’s feelings or you will get your feelings hurt when you defend yourself or argue your case. 

Whatever the event may be, it may put a halt to or make you have to abandon the previous thing that you’ve been working on. You have been building something here; this could be anything like a path, project, job, programme, skill, investment—something that you put effort into because it’s getting you somewhere, because you want to progress. But because of the conflict, you may not be able to continue, or your effort may feel like a waste. It’s probably not really a waste though. Whatever it will be, you will start anew; you may take a new path, and it will feel more liberating and exciting than whatever these restrained energies are. For others of you, it’s precisely because you will be taking a new path that this conflict happens, almost like your new path disturbs or goes against some people; in this case, I think you will still proceed with that new path, but the progress may experience some kind of delay, until you overcome this conflict, so this will be like, a blockage. You will end up learning from this experience.  

Advice for you; don’t be too accommodating or kind. King of Cups in reverse fell on top of Justice in reverse, and when I took it, I kinda accidentally dragged the Justice. So I think both cards are related in some way. I think one of the contributing factors to that imbalance may be your tendency to understand the other parties, to accommodate them, to want things to work—but this can only work well for you if they do the same thing. But if they don’t, it can become unbalanced, and you may be treated unfairly as a result. Don’t think too kindly of people; I mean, don’t start being suspicious of everyone, but if people have shown negative traits to you, don’t explain and give positive meanings to those traits to yourself. If you have a tendency to give yourself to others too much, maybe restrain that a bit more. You’ve got to support yourself first before you do it for other people.  

Some of you are a bit too nurturing that people take advantage of that. You may also have a strong sense of responsibility, so you give yourself too much sometimes. Remain centred in who you are, your beliefs and your values—regardless who will be questioning you or starting issues with you here. Be mature, don’t add to the fire, but have confidence that you know what you are doing and you are doing the best for yourself here. Don’t settle for less—for example, if you get involved in some kind of dispute, make sure you get your fair share / compensation because you deserve it. So there needs to be that feeling of ‘I deserve to ask for this, or to be treated this way, or to hold this position without being disturbed’, because it’s a basic thing to ask for.   

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! At what stage of life will you meet them? What will be going on in your life at that time? Will it happen when you are living your dreams, or when you get a new job, etc? Find out here! 😘❤️

PILE 4 

Challenges to overcome in your life before meeting them: 4 of Pentacles, 6 of Wands, 10 of Swords, The World, Page of Cups (Ace of Pentacles). 

I feel like there will be several, and these things may be different from one another. You’ve got multiple energies here, and I asked how these things connected to one another, you got Ace of Pentacles. So it’s either one event leading to another event and to another event—or multiple things happening at the same time and they’ll just end up leading you somewhere new. It is also possible for some of you, that these events, although they may look different, all of them will be related to material opportunities. For example, in order to pursue those opportunities, you may experience these events. Or experiencing these events will eventually open up material and financial opportunities for you. 

Now what are the events. There will be something with regard to your home life, most likely your house, or your physical location. I feel like it’s been or it will feel quite difficult to live there, or something won’t be that satisfying, or you will feel like you’re storming through difficulties or inconveniences, or you’ve got to hold on to this place for whatever reason (like a lease) before you can move on to the next one. So it will feel that way. It won’t be that unpleasant, I mean, you will still have your stability but you may feel like you need to hold on or deal with some things.  

Now, another thing that you may experience is a victory; you will feel on top of the world. Some of you will feel achieved; some of you will feel celebrated, as in, people paying attention to you, people recognising you, people admiring or respecting you—this could be people abroad, or more than just one or two people. You may have been working on something, and that thing may reach an end and you will get the reward. This victory may come with some downsides for some of you. Since it will involve people, sometimes it may feel like a burden, or it may make you stressed out for some reason; some people will feel too passionately or emotional about what you are doing and they may start causing some scenes. This could be the reason for 10 of Swords.  

For others of you though, 10 of Swords is a separate matter. You will experience a mental and emotional hardship. It will be either something that has started long before that ending happens, or it will feel like you have got to move on—because things are ending and stressing you out and you can’t do anything about it anymore. It’s related to a heartache; I got 3 of Swords when I asked for a clarification. It may be related to a breakup, or a relationship ending. The odd thing is, I’m not getting a strong negative energy from 10 of Swords. Some of you may experience the heavier version of it, because this is a general reading, but for some of you, this may be like... an accumulation of stress that has been burdening you and so you will finally be pushed to the end of it, and realise that you can’t take it anymore, you don’t want to think or feel hurt about the same thing anymore. It can simply be mental or emotional exhaustion from having putting in a lot of work / effort.  

I did mention achievement; so whatever that will happen here, whether it’s positive or not, you will feel like a stage of your life is completing. It feels positive though. Some of you will be graduating, completing a program, a contract, project. Some of you may go abroad, or relocate; some of you will connect with people abroad, people from different countries, or simply people online through this achievement. You may also feel more connected to the world, and wiser through this experience, like you can see how the world works and what is connected to what—having a mature understanding of the world and the interconnectedness of it all. This could also be related to your passion, heart desires, creativity, or the part of you that is drawn to the arts—so you may be led to explore your idealism, your artistic inclination, a hobby that you’ve been wanting to explore because it speaks to your emotions and soul. It feels very soft and genuine and like opening a box containing parts of your soul as a child. It will feel joyful but in a quiet way; you will feel content with what you have at that time and what you want to do. I think this will be the light that you will follow, which will lead you to more material opportunities, which may lead you to your person.     

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! At what stage of life will you meet them? What will be going on in your life at that time? Will it happen when you are living your dreams, or when you get a new job, etc? Find out here! 😘❤️

[bylerweek2025]

Introducing you to BylerWeek 2025!

(March 17th - March 23rd)

Hello Byler Nation! It's with great excitement that I announce I'll be hosting the 2025 edition of Byler Week! ✨

It's gonna be the last Byler Week before our beloved ship becomes canon, so let's make it special. 💚

You know how this works.

Seven days, many prompts for each day for you to chose from.

Post your creations to be featured in this account!

In the next few days I will post the complete set of rules and the themes. Inbox is always open.

Note: this is a sideblog, therefore I can't like/follow from here.

If you want to be up to date with all the masterposts of the event, please comment any emoji to be added to a taglist!

Reblogs of this post are highly appreciated to spread the news <3

Next post ->

[thesecondhandwoman]

BIRTHDAY GIRL

Caitlyn x f!reader

Synopsis: It is Caitlyn’s birthday, and you wanted to make it perfect, especially as her girlfriend, even if you made it a bit excessive.

A/N: Just had to write something for this woman’s birthday (she turned 24/25 in the fanfic).

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains of Caitlyn’s bedroom, painting the room in shades of gold and lavender. You perched carefully on the edge of the bed, balancing a tray loaded with breakfast delights: fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, perfectly scrambled eggs, fresh fruit arranged in a neat fan, and a steaming cup of coffee. A single rose sat in a vase beside it all, adding a touch of elegance Caitlyn would certainly notice.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned over to gently nudge her shoulder. “Caitlyn,” you said softly, your voice warm with anticipation. “Time to wake up, birthday girl.”

She stirred, her brows knitting slightly before her lashes fluttered open. Her soft blue eyes, still hazy with sleep, locked onto yours. “What’s all this?” she murmured, her voice low and drowsy.

“Good morning to you, too,” you teased with a grin. “Breakfast in bed, because today’s your day, and I plan on spoiling you properly.”

A smile crept across her lips as she sat up, her hair falling in tousled waves around her face. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she said, though the soft blush coloring her cheeks told you she was already touched.

“Oh, but I did,” you replied, placing the tray on her lap. “You only turn, uh, twenty-something once.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re terrible at this guessing game.”

“Terrible at guessing, sure. Great at making you smile, though,” you said with a wink.

“Did you really forget my age though, baby?” She joked while looking back down at the tray.

“Pssh, no, I was just joking, Mrs. 25 years old.”

Caitlyn chuckled again, her elegant fingers wrapping around the coffee mug. She took a careful sip, her eyes closing briefly in appreciation. “Perfect, as always. What would I do without you?”

“Probably forget it was your birthday,” you teased.

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fair point.”

As she ate, you stayed close, enjoying the peaceful morning with her. Every bite seemed to make her more at ease, her usual sharp and focused demeanor replaced with something softer, more relaxed. It wasn’t often Caitlyn allowed herself to be doted on, but today, she accepted it gracefully.

Once the tray was empty, Caitlyn set it aside and reached for your hand. “Thank you,” she said, her voice sincere. “This was a lovely way to start the day.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you said, leaning in to kiss her lightly. “The day’s just getting started.”

Her lips quirked up in amusement. “Should I be worried?”

“Not at all,” you promised. “Just be ready for a few surprises later.”

She gave you a knowing look but didn’t press further. “Well, I’m intrigued.”

After Caitlyn left for work, the real madness began. Piltover’s streets were their usual chaotic blend of merchants shouting, tinkers advertising their wares, and enforcers patrolling with sharp eyes. You darted between stalls and shops, collecting everything you needed for the evening: golden and sapphire balloons, streamers, candles, and a perfectly wrapped present hidden inside your bag. The pièce de résistance, however, was the cake.

The bakery owner handed it to you carefully, the chocolate confection topped with elegant swirls of frosting and decorated with delicate candied flowers. “You’ve got good taste,” she said with a grin.

“Thanks,” you replied. “She deserves the best.”

By mid-afternoon, your apartment was a bustling hub of activity. Streamers crisscrossed the ceiling, the banner proudly declaring HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CAITLYN! in bold letters. The table was set with plates, utensils, and the centerpiece cake surrounded by tiny party favors. You even managed to string up fairy lights along the windows for extra charm.

The doorbell rang just as you adjusted the final balloon. When you opened it, Vi stood on the other side, holding a small, poorly wrapped box. “You know, you’re making the rest of us look bad with all this effort,” she joked, stepping inside.

“Somebody has to,” you teased back. “And Caitlyn deserves it.”

Vi smirked but didn’t argue, setting her gift on the table. “She’s lucky to have you.”

The guests trickled in after that, which were Caitlyn’s colleagues, Ekko, Jayce and Viktor, even Jinx (who, after a stern warning from Vi, promised not to set anything on fire). The room filled with laughter and chatter, the perfect backdrop for the celebration ahead.

When the clock struck 7:00, Caitlyn’s key turned in the door. You quickly shushed everyone, the room falling silent as the door creaked open.

“Hello?” Caitlyn called, her tone cautious.

“Surprise!” everyone shouted, the room erupting in cheers.

Caitlyn froze, her wide eyes darting across the sea of smiling faces and the colorful decorations. When her gaze landed on you, standing front and center with a proud grin, her expression softened into something you couldn’t quite describe—relief, happiness, and love all wrapped into one.

“You did all this?” she asked, stepping further into the room.

“Of course,” you said, walking up to meet her. “Happy birthday, Cait.”

She hesitated for only a moment before pulling you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping securely around you. “Thank you,” she murmured into your ear. “This is perfect.”

The party was a smashing success. Caitlyn blew out her candles to a raucous chorus of “Happy Birthday,” her cheeks pink with embarrassment but her smile never wavering. She opened her presents with genuine delight, though Vi’s gag gift (a questionable sweater) earned an exaggerated groan.

As the evening wore on and the guests began to filter out, you found Caitlyn sitting on the couch, the soft glow of the fairy lights framing her silhouette. You joined her, leaning into her side as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“You really went above and beyond today,” she said softly.

“I wanted it to be special,” you replied. “You deserve that.”

She looked down at you, her sapphire eyes catching the light. “You make every day special, you know.”

You felt your cheeks flush but didn’t look away. “That’s because you make it easy.”

She laughed quietly, then leaned down to kiss you. It was slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that made time feel irrelevant. When she pulled back, her expression was tender.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, you didn’t complain when I started leaving coffee at your desk every morning.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “That was bribery, and you know it.”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

She kissed you again, cutting off whatever witty comeback you might’ve had.

The night ended with the two of you curled up together under a blanket, the remnants of the party scattered around the room. Caitlyn’s hand traced gentle patterns on your arm as you rested your head against her chest.

“This was the best birthday I’ve ever had,” she murmured, her voice soft and content.

“I’m glad,” you said, snuggling closer. “You deserve it, Cait.”

She kissed your temple, her lips lingering. “You’re my favorite part of today.”

“And you’re mine,” you replied, tilting your head to meet her gaze.

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the glow of the fairy lights and the faint scent of cake in the air, you knew this day would be one to remember.

A/N: Happy birthday Caitlyn (and any others who also have the same one!)

[nosyp]

here i am requesting a dae-ho x fem!reader smut where dae-ho is usually the sub but whenever he’s jealous he is a whole diff person 🧎‍♀️

Oh yesss, dae-ho is so underrateed. So glad i'm seeing some appreciation for him <3

Title = Possessed by Jealousy

Warnings = MDNI, smut🔞, angry sex, jealousy, possessive behaviour, forced kissing,

Pairing = Dae-ho (Player 388) x fem! reader

Summary = When you are forced to kiss Thanos at a party, Dae-ho's jealousy suddenly ignites a possessive side of him. Making him pull you away, and he takes control to show you just how far he’ll go to claim what’s his.

Word count = 1.4k words

The room was filled with chatter, but all Dae-ho could focus on was the scene unfolding before him. You were standing there, a playful glint in your eyes, as the party guests crowded around. They had dared you to kiss the purple haired man you didn’t even know and before you could protest, his hands were suddenly around your waist, pulling you closer.

It was meant to be a harmless joke, but the way he smirked as he cupped your cheek sent a rush of anger through Dae-ho. It wasn’t the kiss that set him off, nothing like that. It was the way the man touched you, possessive and too familiar. He could feel the jealousy rising in him the more the kiss went on. The look on your face clearly wasn’t satisfying and you definitely didn’t want it.

You felt the man’s lips on yours, his grip tightening as he deepened the kiss, and for a moment, you froze. You didn’t know how to pull away without causing a scene, but you wished Dae-ho, or even anyone was there to save you from this uncomfortable situation.

Just as the kiss lingered, you heard a low voice behind you. “That’s enough.”

The command wasn’t one you’d ever heard Dae-ho use before, but the authority in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. The next thing you knew, he was standing in front of you, his eyes dark with jealousy, his jaw clenched tight. Without a word, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from the other man and guiding you toward the hallway.

“Are you trying to make me watch that?” His voice was low, but the heat in it made your heart race. This was the side of Dae-ho you’d never seen before. It was possessive, intense, and dangerous. His usual submissive nature had vanished, replaced with a raw, commanding energy that took you completely off guard.

Before you could respond, Dae-ho had pushed you against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours with a fierceness you never expected. The kiss was hard, demanding, and as his hands roamed to your waist, you felt the weight of his jealousy pushing you into a whole new world of desire.

“You’re mine,” he muttered between kisses, his grip tightening around you as his body pressed against yours.

The air between you and Dae-ho was thick with tension, and you could feel the raw intensity of his jealousy in every brush of his lips against yours. He wasn't gentle like he usually was. No, this was something entirely different. He was going crazy, almost frantic, as if the kiss was his way of claiming you, reminding you and everyone else that you were his.

His hands slid down your body, gripping your hips firmly as he deepened the kiss. The urgency in his movements was clear. The soft, usually submissive Dae-ho was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was replaced by someone far more dominant, someone who wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted.

You gasped as his lips trailed down to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that left a hot trail behind. His breath was heavy against your ear, and his voice was a low, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

“You think you can just let him touch you like that?” His words were almost a growl, and you could feel the fire in them as he pulled you closer, pressing your body into his. “You belong to me.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours again, the kiss desperate and possessive, a clear message in every movement. Dae-ho’s usual shyness and soft nature were gone, replaced by someone fierce, determined to make sure you knew who had the power in this moment.

His hands moved with purpose now, slipping beneath your clothes, the fabric of your dress tightening as his fingers grazed your skin. You moaned softly into the kiss, and the sound seemed to fuel him further. He responded by deepening the kiss even more, his hands now roaming up to your chest as he pulled you even closer.

“I hate seeing you with someone else,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. “But I love how you look when you're mine. Mine. Not anyone else’s”

The way he said it made your heart race. His words weren’t just possessive, they were full of desire. And for the first time, you felt it too, the overwhelming attraction to the side of Dae-ho you had never seen before. You realized then that this was who he truly was. Someone who would do anything to have you.

As his lips left marks along your neck and his hands explored your body, you knew you weren’t going to escape this moment. The feeling of his lips on your neck felt so hot, his hot breath fanning over you everytime he lifted his face to kiss another spot. His fingertips rubbing soft circles around your breasts. 

Moans left your mouth as he continued his pursuit on you. Small, loving pecks being pressed on you while his hand snakes behind you before unclasping your bra and pulling off your dress completely. It revealed your skin out to the cold air, making goosebumps appear all over your skin. 

His hands were moving with such greed you kinda doubted if this was the same Dae-ho you knew. It felt like he was replaced by a hungry… greedy… lustful man.

Your eyes were looking around the room frantically in an attempt to calm yourself down. Everything felt so dizzying, from how small the room felt, to how tantalising his touch felt. Actually, nothing felt real. 

From past experiences, you knew Dae-ho wasn’t one to handle jealousy well. The moment he even sees you even talking to another person for too long, his demeanor would shift. It wasn’t a subtle change either. It would start by his brows furrowing, then his lips would tighten, and the air around him would grow tense. 

It wasn’t as if he outright confronted you or anything, but his silence and sharp glares made it clear that something was off. He would subtly pull you closer, acting more possessive and clingy, as if to remind you that your attention should only be on him. Even the slightest hint of someone else taking up your time would send him into a quiet storm of frustration, his jealousy always simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to erupt.

“Tell me you love me… hah..  Tell– me your mine!” he says, hips snapping with yours. The sloppy sounds of his member going in and out of you rang through your ears, only allowing you to focus on the present moment. 

You moan, unable to suppress the pleasure. “A-ah! I- I… mmhh! I love- you!” you squeal.

It was clear he wasn’t happy with you, but there was nothing you could do. The tension suffocated you, and every attempt to speak only made it worse. You were left to surrender, trapped under his cold, unforgiving sex.

“A-ah! T-tell me– you’re mine! God damn it!” he says loudly, almost a scream. The volume scared you a bit. You had no idea why this time was so intense.

“P-please! I- I-! I’m yours, Dae-ho!” the words start pouring from your mouth, your tongue rolling with each syllable. 

Your breath quickens as you give in to the pleasure, allowing your words to process in his mind. He pauses, his gaze hardening for a moment as if savoring the confession.

"Good," he mutters under his breath, then he starts grinding against you again. 

Thwap thwap thwap!

His skin cracks against yours every time he thrusts in you, the sound reverberating around the room. You could see strands of his hair starting to fall, slightly covering his face, but it somehow made him even more handsome. 

You admired his face, the sharpness of his jawline and the way his dark eyes bore into you, full of intensity. His nose, slightly crooked, added to the allure of his features, and his lips were just the right shade of pink, as if tempting you to get closer. 

Every inch of him seemed carefully crafted, but it was his eyes that truly captured your attention. Their deep, piercing gaze never leaves yours, making you feel as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. Oh how glad you were to be with him. 

One thing was clear though: Dae-ho wasn’t letting you go. Not this time.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

“Happy Birthday, my dearest sister!”

Iris walked into her home, the rotting door’s hinges squealing in protest against the movement, only to be greeted by the sight of a brightly decorated room, with a prince holding a cake in the center of it.

Iris let out a quiet sigh, closing the door behind her. She set down her basket of unsold flowers and carefully removed her shoes, cleaning the muddy snow off of them before setting them down in their proper place. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she looked around again.  Her clean but rundown room was all but unrecognizable, with cheerful banners and streamers hung in every available space. The few magical lamps she kept and used sparingly due to the high cost of fuel, were all on at the highest setting, making her frown at the waste.

“…” Iris stared silently at the prince and his advisor behind him, who both stared equally silently back.

"Are you sure this is the one?" He broke first, whispering to the man on his right.

“We are sure, Your Highness. It has been triple confirmed by the court sorcerer. She also bears a star shaped birthmark below her right ear, which was noted at your sister’s birth. This is your long-lost sister, Theodora.” His advisor whispered back.

“…Then why doesn’t she seem excited to see me?”

“Perhaps she’s just overly surprised?”

Iris sighed again.

“Why don’t you have a seat, and we can talk about this over tea.” It had been a long cold day selling flowers on the street, her fingers and toes were numb. She was tired, cold and cranky. This may be a pivotal moment that would change the course of her entire life…

But that was not going to stop her from getting her tea.

The prince shook his head, seeming to break from his shock. “Ah, yes… tea… Gareld…can you…”

“I’ll do it.” Iris interrupted. “He doesn’t know where anything is.” And she didn’t want him snooping around her home, either.

“I can help…” Gareld stepped closer, an uncertain look on his face.

“Both of you. Sit.” Her tone did not allow for argument, and both men sat down, staring silently as she moved around making tea. Iris checked her stock. She still had some dried fairy flowers, which made for a cool refreshing tea when brewed correctly. She hesitated briefly, not really wanting to waste her best tea on these visitors.

I guess Royalty should get your best tea. She tried not to sigh again and failed.

The tea was made quickly. The prince watched appreciatively at her calm, practiced movements, her neatly tied red curls swaying behind her.

“You look just like our mother did, you know.” His voice was wistful, remembering.

“I wouldn’t know.” Her voice was cold.

“…I suppose that is true.” The Prince took the tea she handed him, taking a sip to cover up his embarrassment. He was clearly not expecting much, given their surroundings, but his eyes widened in shock and appreciation. “This is good tea!”

“Thank you.” Iris accepted the complement calmly, drinking from her own cup. “Now can you please explain your purpose here today?”

“Yes. Well.” He was clearly thrown by her calm demeanor but seemed to collect himself. “I am Prince Anthony, the second born prince of the Royal family. I am here because you… you are actually my sister Theodora. You are a princess.”

“…” A silence fell over the table. After drinking more tea and warming herself up, Iris finally picked up the conversation once more.

“I see.”

She stirred her tea, staring down at the dried petals floating on the surface. “If I am your sister, why has that only been discovered now? I have grown up on the streets for as long as I can remember. I have been making a living selling flowers, since the old woman who looked after me died several years ago.”

“…” Anthony seemed embarrassed. “You were switched at birth.”

“By who? And with who?”

He didn’t seem to want to meet her eyes in the face of her calm questions. “I don’t know who switched you two… but you were switched with another girl, who we raised believing to be you. I only know her as Theodora. I don’t know what her name was before the switch she was a newborn, like you.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” He still wasn’t meeting her gaze. Guilty conscience? She wondered.

He seemed to read something in her tone, getting slightly worked up. “Theodora is innocent in this! She was horrified to find out that she wasn’t who she said she was! She cried for days, wishing she could trade places with you, return everything she had taken from you!” He shook his head. “Silly girl, she blames herself for the sins of others. Of course you wouldn’t blame her!”

Iris raised an eyebrow at his confident tone. “Of course.” She smiled, the expression polite but cold. “So, are you here to bring me back to the palace?”

“Yes! When the court mages finally located you, the whole family was anxious to bring you back!” He pointed to the decorations and cake he had brought. “It’s actually your eighteenth birthday! You probably didn’t know.”

“…” Iris studied the cake and decorations. “So why just you?”

“What?” Anthony’s smile faded slowly.

“If the whole family is anxious to get me back, why only send you?” She thought it over. “The Queen died giving birth, but I have another brother besides you, correct? The crown prince, Dominic? And my father is still alive and well?”

There was a long pause, as if he hadn’t expected her to ask that.

“…They are at your sister’s party.” He finally answered.

Iris chuckled. “I have a sister? I was not aware of another princess in the family.”

“It’s Theodora.” He shook his head. “The OTHER Theodora, I mean. We had been planning this celebration for months. We couldn’t move it. In fact, we should probably be leaving soon, or we’ll be late for the party.”

Iris rubbed her forehead tiredly. “Are you planning to bring me to this party?”

“Of course!” Anthony seemed shocked she would even ask. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my sister!”

“And how are you planning on explaining my identity… and more importantly HER identity, when I show up? Are you making the announcement that she’s a fake princess at her birthday party?” She leaned back, taking another sip of her tea. “That seems unkind.”

“WHAT?” His hand slapped down on the table, rattling the cups and teapot sitting on top. “Theodora is not a fake! She…” Anthony hesitated. “She’s just… a victim, like you.”

“I see.” Iris sat her cup down firmly and smiled again. “Then let’s plan for me to return to the palace tomorrow then. You can go enjoy the birthday party with Theodora, without my presence complicating public perception of her.”  She stood up, not subtly indicating to her guests that they were expected to leave.

Anthony’s expression was complicated. “But… I’m here to bring you back.” He stood up dazedly, his advisor standing up as well, having stayed thoughtfully silent the entire conversation. Iris became guiding them towards the door.

“I know, and thank you. I’ll take tonight to pack my things. Just send a carriage to pick me up in the morning.”

“But… Theodora…” He was obviously calling her, and Iris interrupted him, frowning.

“Just call me Iris. I grew up with the name, and it will be too confusing with two Theodoras running around the castle.”

Anthony grabbed her hand. “But it’s your name. Our mother gave it to you.”

“And someone stole it from me, gave it to someone else and dropped me in the slums to die.” Her tone was dry, but Anthony winced as if she had struck him, letting go of her. “Just call me Iris. It’s easier.”

“Okay… Iris.”

“Good, now goodbye for now. Enjoy the party.”

With that she pushed them out of the door, closing and locking it behind them. She put her back against the wooden panels, ignoring the rough grain digging into her skin, and froze for an unknown amount of time. Slowly, she made her way back to her table, turning down the magical lamps to save fuel, cleaning up the used cups and tea pot, before sitting down and putting her head in her hands.

She was a princess.

Perhaps if anyone else had heard the news, especially someone who had been living in the slums, they would be ecstatic. It was a path forward full of opportunities, a chance to completely change her difficult, cold and lonely life.

But Iris was not excited.

Not that she didn’t want change. She hated her current life, the dangers, the struggle to get by, the constant wariness to protect herself. She was not indifferent to finding her family, either. She had longed for family affection her entire life. The old woman who raised her did so mostly to have someone to run errands for her. There was very little affection between them. To have a father and brothers who would care about her… it was a dream come true…

And unfortunately for her, it was a dream come true.

Every year since she was ten years old, she had had recurring dreams. Odd strange, vibrant dreams. Visions that sometimes seemed more real than the world around her, vividly remembered when she woke up in the morning. At least once a month, sometimes with more frequency, but always in a similar theme.

In her dreams, she lived in another world. A different life, filled with technology and science rather than magic. Of elections and leaders rather than royalty. And in this world she was still called Iris, but was an actress. She participated in many television shows and movies, had a moderate amount of fame, and many fans to cheer her on. But the project she was embroiled in, was a complex plot about a magical realm. Her character was a young woman, a princess who had been separated from birth from her family. She grew up on the streets until her eighteenth birthday at which time she was found and returned home.

An interesting, dramatic story. There was just one problem:

Her character wasn’t the heroine.

She was the villain.

Or one of the villains. Not even the main threat to the hero and heroine. She returned to the palace, only to find a replacement her family loved dearly in her spot. Filled with jealousy and spite, she spent most of her time trying to set traps for the woman who took her place, only to have each and every plot go wrong. The woman she hated escaped time and time again, and slowly, her father the king and her brothers grew weary of her trouble, sending her overseas to be married to an old and perverted foreign king. They had thought she would be married to one of his sons, but didn’t spend enough time or effort to show her importance to the royal family. Coveting her beauty, the old king took her into his harem.

She jumped off the roof of the palace on the night of her wedding. None of her family knew of or mourned her loss.

The heroine, the girl who had grown up as the princess she was meant to be, thrived under the love and care of the king and princes. She ended up marrying a neighboring prince, the fiancé that had been promised since birth, a man who Iris’ character had also fallen in love with, but failed at all attempts to get close.

Most of her dreams centered around the filming of this project.

Iris had always been confused by these dreams, convinced it just a strange experience that meant nothing, until one year ago, when she heard a story teller in a tavern talking about the royal family:

The crown prince Dominic. The second born prince Anthony. The princess Theodora.

All names she knew very well.

The characters in the story her dream-self acted in.

And the more she pondered this, the clearer it became. Her age, her features, the distinctive birthmark… Iris remembered having the make up artist draw it on below her ear in her dream, but she didn’t need make up in the waking world. She had the birth mark, a clear small star, since she was a child. A mark that meant something horrible:

She was the lost princess.

She was the villainess, doomed to be hated, to be sent away and kill herself in despair.

Over the last year she paid close attention to her dreams, writing down what she remembered, trying to understand the story of her possible future. Even as she prepared, she hoped, deep in her heart, that her dreams were wrong. That they were a strange delusion, a mix of stories of the royal family and facts about herself, combined in her sleeping brain. Maybe it was just what she had thought it was before: a peculiar dream.

Until her eighteenth birthday arrived.

And Prince Anthony arrived with it, right on schedule.

She stared down at her clenched fists, as the multicolored streamers hung around her, a cake sitting coldly in front of her, the icing starting to melt, and sighed.

She was unsure why she had been given these dreams, this warning of her future.

But she did understand one thing:

She would not suffer the same fate as the character Iris had played in her dreams.

_____________________________________________

Prince Anthony sat in his carriage, traveling back to the palace. He leaned back against the cushions, his eyes closed, his brow furrowed. As they drew closer to home, he finally spoke up, breaking the tense silence.

“Gareld… did I do something wrong?”

“Your Highness?”

Anthony opened his eyes, a confused light in the dark pupils. “I thought she would be excited to learn she had family. All the information about her… her struggles to survive by selling flowers… with no one to help her… I thought she would leap at the chance to go home.”

“She didn’t seem UNHAPPY, sir.”

“But she wasn’t happy, either.” He sighed, twisting a ring on his right hand. “Should I not have brought up Theodora?”

Gareld shook his head. “It’s not like you could have avoided it. Better she know now then find out at the palace.”

“I know it’s not her fault… she’s a victim too. So, she shouldn’t blame Theodora, right? But why do I feel so guilty?”

“Princess Theodora and Princess Iris were both the subject of this malicious swap… but Princess Theodora grew up loved and cherished, a princess where she may not have enjoyed such luxury before, but Princess Iris… She has suffered more.” Gereld hesitated. “Besides, your father and Prince Dominic have not determined how to settle Princess Theodora’s identity. If they fully restore Princess Iris to her place, that will cause many issues for Theodora, not excluding her marriage arrangement to Prince Greyson. If you had brought Princess Iris to the party tonight… they may have made a rash decision to protect Princess Theodora, even at the cost of your new sister.”

“I almost caused her harm, didn’t I?”

“Not intentionally, Your Highness.”

“I just wanted to bring her home.” Anthony whispered, feeling pain in his heart and her bland, cold expression when facing him. “Why is it so complicated?”

“You father and brother will figure things out. I would just focus on making your sister feel welcome. It will be a difficult transition, no matter what.”

Anthony seemed to come to a determination, an excited light in his eye. “All right then! I’ll make sure she’s taken care of! Let’s go make sure Iris’s room and servants are arranged properly!”

Gareld looked confused. “What about Princess Theodora’s party?”

“I already gave her my gift, she’ll understand. There are hundreds of people there. But my sister… she doesn’t have anyone. I need to make sure she’s welcomed!”

_____________________________________________

Iris ate a piece of the cake her brother had left, enjoying the high-quality treat. It reminded her of the cakes in her dream. There had a been a special bakery she had gone to, usually on her birthday. She had to sneak there, her agent and personal trainer strictly forbid sweets. She had not had the chance to taste such delicious things in this world, though, her money was better spent on things for survival.

After she finished, she made her way to her room, opening a secret panel behind her bed. Her home was small, and even smaller after she built a secret compartment in the back. But it had been worth it, to keep her secrets safe. As she entered the room, she was surrounded by flowers. Hundreds of colorful bright flowers, each in the state of perfect bloom. On the wall, small pots of herbs grew heartily, their grassy scent combining with the sweet smell of the flowers.

Her first advantage was knowing her story, and with that came certain benefits.

Like knowing she had magical abilities solely available to royal blood. In the story, one of the reasons the king brought Iris back was that he needed to use her gifts, which included the ability to grow plants in any environment. She had agreed readily in the story, hoping to earn her father’s affection by aiding him. Unfortunately for her, her usefulness did not outweigh her shortcomings, as she targeted Theodora again and again. And the king chose to abandon her with little hesitation.

Iris frowned, feeling a stabbing pain in her heart. She thought she had come to peace with her knowledge of the future. However, at the thought of the father she had never met, a strong desire for family affection and love still rose within her. She firmly pushed it down, focusing on the room around her.

Once she suspected the reality of the dream, she had used the knowledge of the story to tap into her royal magic. There was still strict limits on her abilities, mostly by the seeds she had access too and the space she had to grow, but it allowed her to sell fresh, beautiful flowers, even in the midst of winter.  

The herbs had proved useful as well.

She carefully packed a few small choice plants and seeds, only carrying a tiny fraction of the room within. She wasn’t ready to reveal her knowledge of her abilities just yet. The more she knew, and the less they knew, the better.

Iris packed the remainder of her belongings, fitting everything into two small bags. She then laid down, and prepared to rest.

Tomorrow she would see her family, and the heroine of this story, Theodora.

She was ready.

_____________________________________________

As promised by Anthony, a royal carriage arrived in the morning to pick her up. She handed her bags to the footman and prepared to step in, only to pause at the sight of a hand reaching out to help her in to the carriage.

Surprised, she saw Anthony’s grinning face and took his hand, letting him help her to the seat across from him. “Why are you here?”

“I can’t let my little sister come home alone, can I?”

He spent the ride to the palace chattering in a cheerful tone about the arrangements he had done to set up her living space. Iris listened in somewhat of a daze, feeling unsure.

Iris had not been arranged living quarters in the story. In fact, that was the source of one of the early conflicts between the heroine and the villainess. Iris had been mentally preparing for that confrontation… only to find out the story had already changed.

Did delaying my arrival to the next morning already change things so much? It both relieved Iris to know she COULD change things, and terrified her about whether she SHOULD. Her advantage was based mainly in her knowledge of the story, but if that changed… she would be on her own.

“Are you okay?” Anthony noticed her distraction, pausing in his descriptions to check in with her.

Iris smiled at him, the first genuine smile she had given him since his arrival on her birthday. “I’ll be okay.” And I will. My goal is to get a different ending for myself. A better ending. And the only way to do that is to change things. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. This is a good start.

She looked out the window, unaware that her brother had frozen in shock at the sight of her bright smile. When she smiled like that, her eyes lit up, and she looked just liked their mother. He cheered himself on, glad he had chosen to spend time arranging for her arrival.

As the carriage came to a stop, Anthony helped her down from the carriage, leading her in excitedly towards the royal quarters. As he entered a central sitting room, he called out:

“Father! Dominic! I brought her!”

Two men in the room stood up at his words, turning to look at Iris.

And iris studied them as well.

Tall, handsome, with light hair and grey eyes, they looked very different from her, who resembled their mother with her red hair and more delicate features. Anthony pointed at them, and grinned to Iris.

“This is your father, and your oldest brother!”

The older of the two stepped forward, a solemn look on his lined face.

“Theodora, you’ve returned.”

At his words, a beautiful young woman who was sitting on a nearby couch stood up, her lightly curled blond locks swaying behind her. She reached forward, grabbing the King’s hand with a brave smile.

“Silly me, I almost thought you were talking to me, Father! But of course you are talking to your real daughter.” She turned to Iris with a tearful expression. “Sister, I must beg for your forgiveness! Even though I am a victim of this switch as well, and have lost my blood relatives, I have grown up with father and brothers, who have treated me well. You deserve to take everything, it should have been yours from the start!” She began to cry, while Iris watched on.

Good tears, nice volume, angles her face well to take advantage of the shape and appear more remorseful.  

As someone who had lived years inside her dreams as a professional actress, however, it was too fake.

Iris recognized this scene, although the setting was different. It was the meeting between Theodora the heroine and Iris the villainess.

_____________________________________________

“Scene 4, Take 2. ACTION!”

CLACK!

Theodora stepped closer, tears still running down her face. “Sister, I can never repay what you have lost, but first, I will give you back your name. I have held it for too long!” She sobbed prettily into her hands. “I don’t know what I’ll go by… but you can be Theodora… the real Theodora from now on!”

“Wait!” The King spoke up, patting Theodora gently on the head. “Let’s not be too hasty. We have been calling Theodora by this name for eighteen years. It would be silly to change things now.”

Theodora smiled at him, but then cast a worried glance at Iris, as if afraid of her anger. “But what should we call sister then?”

“My name is…”

“Let’s call her Dora.” Dominic spoke up, interrupting his sister’s words. “We shorten Theodora’s name to Theo sometimes, so Dora would be the most appropriate.”

She stared at her family with growing rage. “Theodora is MY name! Why can’t I be called by MY NAME? Why does this… this… FAKE… get to keep MY NAME!”

Theodora broke down. “I knew sister hates me! I should leave the palace! I’ll just make her sadder if I stay!”

Anthony stepped in. “Of course you’re not leaving! You’re our sister no matter what!” He turned to his sister. “Apologize to Theodora… Dora!”

“CUT!”

_____________________________________________

Iris looked up, just in time to see Theodora step closer, right on cue. “Sister, I can never repay what you have lost, but first, I will give you back your name…”

“No, that’s okay, you keep it. I’ll just go by Iris.” Iris interrupted her, bringing up a gentle, kind smile. Using her memories of acting, she looked at Theodora as if looking a loved family member. “I know you must be uncomfortable, with me showing up out of nowhere. You have been with my father and brothers all these years, taking care of them when I couldn’t. I must thank you, dear Theodora. I couldn’t possibly take your name!”

“…What?” Theodora forgot to keep pretending to cry, staring at Iris with consternation.

“It’s nice to see you are a sensible girl.” The King spoke up, smiling approvingly at them both. “We will refer to you as Iris. Welcome home!”

“We’ll need to settle their identities.” Dominic looked at Iris cautiously, his eyes calculating. “After all, Theodora has publicly been the princess for the last eighteen years.”

Iris smiled. “I will follow whatever you and father think is best.”

Before Dominic could speak again, Anthony jumped in. “Let’s discuss it later. Iris has to see her new rooms!” Ignoring any awkwardness, he grabbed Iris’ hand and pulled her further into the palace.

Iris turned and smiled at the three as she was led away. She especially enjoyed Theodora’s annoyed face, before she quickly gained control of her expression.

Alright, first confrontation is a point for me. Only a few hundred more to go. She turned back to her brother who led her away, feeling warm. I don’t know why he’s different… but I’m glad he is.

As she was about to speak up to thank him, however, Anthony came to a sudden halt, causing her to crash into his back.

“Ouch!” She grabbed her nose which had been the main point of impact, her eyes tearing from the blow, and looked past her brother at the point of obstruction.

“Mage Vicente! What brings you to the palace?” Anthony seemed confused, but not nervous.

The man who blocked them looked at them both with a calm smile. He was a young man, good looking enough to make even Iris who had memories of working with multiple top-level actors take notice. His hair was covered under a hood, a large cloak covering most of his tall form, but his eyes, a bright green color, were filled with a knowledge that made whoever looked in them nervous.

Iris stared at him, confused.

There was no mention of a Mage Vincente in the story in her dreams.

Who is this? A very minor character?  Iris felt she would have remembered him.

“I was just here to confirm something.” Vincente studied Iris carefully, then nodded. “Welcome back, Your Highness.”

Iris felt like his words had a deeper meaning, but was unsure of what it could be.

“It was Vincente whose magic confirmed that you were the true princess, Iris!” Anthony spoke up.

“I see.” Iris was more confused than ever, made worse by the fact that he seemed very familiar… but she couldn’t remember from where. “Thank you, sir.”

“My pleasure, Iris.” He bowed solemnly, but his eyes seemed… amused… more than anything. Without another word, he walked away, his robe swaying with his wide steps.

“Don’t mind him, Iris. All mages are a bit odd.”

“Odd…” Iris watched the man’s leaving back. “That seems to be the right word for it.”

They arrived at her rooms, which were carefully decorated and filled with beautiful furniture, jewelry, makeup and clothes. Anthony showed her around the room, pointing with glee at the different choices he had made.

“I don’t know if the gowns will fit, so I’ll have the dressmaker stop by later today to help fit you! Hopefully these will be a good start!” He grinned at her, and Iris smiled back.

“Thank you… Brother.” She stepped forward, giving him a cautious hug. Anthony hugged her tightly back, blinking back tears.

“Welcome home!” After a few more words he left, and Iris was alone.

She looked around the rooms, overwhelmed.

The story is already so different. My brother, these rooms, the meeting… the mage.”

She remembered vividly the scene of her character jumping to her death in a foreign land.

“Not different enough.” She muttered.

She would change the story completely.

This… was just the start.

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

[luvether]

MUCH LOVE, YOUR GUARDIANS ! In which they go from bodyguards to companions who you would crawl back home to, as they go through the thick of thins of what it’s like to love you intentionally and ardently.

jiaoqiu and moze x gn!reader (ft. feixiao) fluff and heavy (?) angst content. petty jealousy and overprotectiveness. mentions of self-deprecation, self-sabotage, low self-morale. heavy yearning. hurt with comfort. heavy found-family dynamic, platonic and romantic implications. politics. might be ooc. massive spoilers for the events on version 2.5. [12.6k wc]

sequel to a guardian or two ノ trying to dabble back into angst. tagging @bladism <33 love you and sorry for the atrociously long fic!! hoping to revive the jq and moze tags for this one (art by zassyoku_DD on twt.)

IN THE YAOQING, WHEN YOU THINK OF HAVING LUNCH you think of a small table crammed with four people, the strong scent of spices pricking your nose—making it all runny, the ruddy-cheeked Feixiao slurring between liquor lips, her vice arm wrapping unapologetically around the reluctant and defeated healer and your secret alliance with the shadow guard as he sneakily takes the button mushrooms in your bowl when Jiaoqiu is not looking, too busy being the General’s victim to her drunken affairs.

You and Moze exchange knowing glances, it was a deal that was recently established since he had lost a bet and dreaded reciting poems in the next festival.

Moze grumbles about a poem recital in front of strangers? You came to his aid.

You disliked the mushrooms Jiaoqiu gives you every lunch? He comes to your aid.

“You should come to the Luofu with us during the Wardance Ceremony.” A drink-addled comment gets thrown into the mix of everyday lunch atmosphere. You had almost missed it completely, had it not been for Moze who nudged you and you realized it wasn’t the delusional voices in your head speaking your wanton.

“Going to the Luofu for the Wardance Ceremony?” You echo Feixiao’s statement with perked up enthusiasm, food caking the insides of your cheeks, trying to push the words between your chewing.

“Finish chewing before you start talking.” There’s a mischievous smile on Jiaoqiu’s lips, tail flicking left and right in glee. He always finds every reason to tease you, this moment was no different. You shoot him a fond glare, pausing to finish a piece of rich meat in your mouth, licking the flavor between your teeth.

“Are you certain you want me to follow you to the Luofu?” You ask again, just in case it was Feixiao's drunk thought overtaking her senses.

But she straightens at the content of your tone, sobering. The expression on her face expresses her clear agreement.

“Why not?” She rests her cup on the table, her fingertips teetering towards the pitcher to pour more. “You have not visited the other Xianzhou ships before, it will be a good change of pace for you.”

A bright smile graces your lips, then it collapses. “I appreciate the invitation, but I cannot ignore the mountains of paperwork on my desk. I barely have time for leisure, much less go on a vacation somewhere.”

“Have you forgotten?” You turn your attention to Moze who speaks casually from your side, arms crossing over his chest. "You are looking at the Yaoqing’s lacking General, lacking in worries, regrets and…”

“Lacking in rivals.” You finish his sentence with a chuckle.

Moze’s lips tip upward, almost a smile.

“No one would dare say anything if a certain scribe vanishes from work and accompanies the General to the Luofu.”

Jiaoqiu adds. “Besides, we want you to come with us.” There’s a fond smile on his face.

“That’s three rebuttals against one.”

The atmosphere lifts at Jiaoqiu’s nostalgic tease, it all reminds you of the first time Jiaoqiu and Moze became your bodyguards, how time flies.

You chuckle then, “alright.”

“Now that it is settled,” Feixiao cheers. “Let us rejoice with—”

Jiaoqiu grabs the pitcher before your sister does, a sharp look of warning on his smiling face. “General Feixiao, please refrain from drinking anymore. And Moze,” He turns his head, you both stiffen. “Stop being an accomplice and let them eat their mushrooms.”

Moze tsked and a laugh bubbles in your chest, nothing can escape Jiaoqiu’s eyes now can it?

Despite the constant bantering that quickly fit into your routine with the three of them—you were extremely grateful for their existence in your otherwise very lonesome life. Aside from the excitement of the trip, you had been ruminating about their departure since you accidentally overheard them talking about it when you were slumbering.

The next couple of days, your enthusiasm never ceases until it’s the day to depart for Xianzhou Luofu.

The ship is already waiting by Yaoqing’s docks when you arrive, as your feet guide you there you double check your items before boarding: extra clothes, personal bathing essentials, wallet, notebook files, some medicines…yup. Everything you need for the trip has been accounted for, and even if you had forgotten something, you are certain the Luofu will provide you with it. You had heard a thing or two about Luofu’s dozing General from Feixiao herself, their generosity to foreigners have even touched the strings of your heart.

You are enthused about your first journey, being able to meet other people and seeing other sights outside of the usual IPC-styled architecture the Yaoqing has to offer.

You hear someone call out your name from a distance, you lift your head and see Jiaoqiu waving at you, already nestled on the ship’s seat cushions. He softly pats the space beside him,

“Come sit beside me.”

A Verdant knight allows you entry and you approach the smiling healer, doing as he had asked of you after loading your bag on the overhead bin. You allow your body to sink within the cushions with a contented sigh slipping between your teeth. Your arm touches Jiaoqiu’s and you cannot help but lean in and flop your head on his shoulder, soft strawberry cowlicks tickle your cheek and he reaches out to brush wild strands from your forehead.

“Didn’t get enough sleep?”

“I just had to finish files for a couple of IPC shipments that will be arriving in Verdant harbor.” This earns a light-hearted chuckle from the pink. You feel his weight on your head, his cheek pressed onto your crown.

“I thought you got an assistant?”

“I did.” You answer. “I need to make sure things are accounted for and queued in the proper order before I hand the management over to her.”

“Well, aren’t you a kind boss.”

“When was I not?”

Jiaoqiu grabs his red fan, small puffs of wind settle softly on your face due to his fanning. “I didn't say you were anything but.” Then a brief silence, his tone containing fondness.

“You are slowly trusting others again,”

You lift your head, unaware of how your face is close to his. From here, his butterscotch eyes are a gentle pool of honey and orange.

His lips tip up. “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart soars. Jiaoqiu winds his arm around you, tail flicking and his fan continues to draw air. “If you want to sleep, sleep.”

Your weight is leaning heavily on his, he doesn’t seem to mind it, his fingers coming to rub soothingly, almost lulling you, constellations of sleep blinking beneath your eyelids.

“But I wanted to wait and see the stars outside.”

“I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Promise?” You yawn, this makes Jiaoqiu cradle you closer into his inviting warmth.

“Promise.” He says. “Now get some sleep. This will be a long trip.”

It has already been a couple of days since your arrival to the Xianzhou Luofu. Feixiao had left immediately to go sightseeing, leaving you, Jiaoqiu and Moze to announce your arrival to the Arbiter Generals at the Seat of Divine Foresight.

Meeting General Jingyuan was such an enlightening experience, his deep baritone faint in your ears, his gentle mannerisms and just as enthusiastic tone when talking about grueling papers constantly on office desks or wanting to travel more, it allowed for smooth conversations between the two of you, having so many things in common.

You had liked conversing with the General,

A certain two did not.

But your two ‘bodyguards’ knew better than to let their moods sully on such a simple thing.

It wasn’t strange for General Jingyuan to show a warm and respectful disposition towards you—he has, after all, heard of your astounding achievements in the Yaoqing, despite the nasty comments thrown at you, you prevailed, and Jingyuan admired that aspect of you, especially with your label as the Merlin’s Claw kin and the lack of swordsmanship practice.

Moze and Jiaoqiu understand that, because they hold the same amount of admiration towards you and your efforts.

But what they considered ludicrous was when you three had bumped into a Knight of beauty whilst trying to find for a certain General with white ears—you haven’t seen Feixiao in a long while and during your ventures of trying to find her, Argenti greeted you and you both clicked.

It was merely a curious exchange at first, trading words of greetings, introductions with a mix of interest for the other. Moze lags behind the group, preferring to keep to himself during this conversation which was understandable, he’s a man with few words much less sharing friendly words with Argenti—who was the complete opposite of Moze—radiant under public lights, forthright in his syrupy cadence, his eyes sparkle just as bright like ruby rose petals and succor violin strings.

Jiaoqiu could do nothing but smile politely at the interaction, happy that you are conversing more with others outside of your little circle.

But then Argenti picks up your hand, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

The friendly gesture made Jiaoqiu crack like stone and Moze stiffen.

The whole atmosphere takes a polar turn of frigid that feels harsh on your skin.

You’ve noticed it only briefly. Now, Jiaoqiu’s smile is no longer polite—but it’s still there, it just seems more…malicious and cynical than friendly. Or how Moze’s neutral stare sharpens as it follows the crimson hair of Argenti as he bids you all farewell.

When the knight turns the corner, Jiaoqiu places both his hands flat on your shoulders, a conflicting look in his amber eyes.

“I implore you to reconsider your choices.”

Your brows crease in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Jiaoqiu’s right. He’s bad news.” Moze inquired from your other side, adding spices to the already boiling pot. You can only flicker your gaze back and forth between the two, unsure why they are saying this all of a sudden.

“But Mr. Argenti seems sweet to me.”

You merely stated the obvious, Jiaoqiu jostles you softly like you’ve gone insane.

“The reputation of the Knights of beauty are fastidious. They don’t have time for such affairs since they travel all over the galaxy to pay patronage and share the gospel of their God all across the cosmos, so don’t even think about it.”

Think about it? Affairs? “Have you both eaten something funny today?” You ask instead, shaking away from Jiaoqiu’s firm grip.

Maybe they just ate something weird, their behavior will lessen in a couple days time, that is your initial conclusion on this matter. However their petulance only seems to metamorphosis the more days spent in the Luofu.

A day or two passes, and your run-ins with Argenti are few and far in between.

Two times, you’ve only bumped into each other two times after your first encounter. The Xianzhou Luofu is surprisingly a small place and with the current festival ongoing, it’s easy to bump into a familiar face among the streets.

But everytime Argenti perks up at the sight of you, calling you his ‘dear Yaoqing friend’ the air surrounding Jiaoqiu and Moze seems to freeze over, and you were semi-glad Argenti doesn’t take notice or offense to such looks pinned on him.

He’s quite the character.

You sigh again for the millionth time today when you parted ways with the red-head. You turned around, “Jiaoqiu.”

“Yes?”

“If you won’t stop glaring at him, the passersby will assume he jumped you in an alley and robbed you of your riches.”

“You’re just seeing things.”

“No, I’m quite sure of myself. What’s with the face, Jiaoqiu. Did he do something to you that I am not aware of?”

Jiaoqiu’s manners exude reluctance, his mouth open then close, as if unsure of what to answer you. “...Not in particular.”

You tilt your head. ‘Then w—” Before you can finish your sentence, the fox rips a part of his pastry and gently pushes it between your lips to hush you.

“Try this for me.” He says instead. “Is it to your taste?”

You lick the flavor from your teeth, nodding your head. At your response, Jiaoqiu pushes the remaining pastry on your hand and pats your head.

“Take it, I'm not really into sweet things.”

“Okay…”

As you watch him, you’ve taken note of how either of the two behave, which was a new experience on your part, you have not seen this side of them before. Like Jiaoqiu’s tendency to hide his nasty displeasures beneath his red fan, occasional amber eyes scrutinizing and ears twitching.

Or Moze that seems to have the tendency to either vanish into thin air mid conversation when something displeases him, tug his hood down and refrain from any eye contact or he would glare down at you with those magenta eyes of his, just like right now.

“Where are you going?”

You startle as the tall, brooding man materializes in front of you. You pause, looking around for any imminent danger for him to act like this.

“I was just gonna check out the stalls I haven’t stopped by in Aurum Alley.”

He blinks. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” You defend yourself quickly, too quick. “I wanted to buy something but haven’t found the right place to custom make it, this is my second time trying to look around.”

Moze ponders upon your excuse, he melts immediately after thinking it through. “Okay.” He uncrosses his arms, shaving his stubbornness away. “I’ll accompany you,”

“Wait a second.” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “You…you cannot come with me, and aren’t you supposed to be in an important meeting in the seat of Divine Foresight with Jiaoqiu and the Madam General?”

He responds by shaking his head. “It’ll be alright, Jiaoqiu’s enough to handle it and I’m not fond of the limelight either way. It’s also protocol to—“

You try to sidestep him, he moves to block you again.

You scowl at him. He ignores you.

“It’s protocol to keep watch over you here more so than normal since this isn’t the Yaoqing, there might be others here that are out to get you.”

“It’s a festival, Moze.” You narrow your eyes.

He nods his head. “A great distraction for people to come and take advantage of the situation. So try—“

“To enjoy the celebration—“

“To stay alert since it is a celebration.”

You cannot help but sigh. “Let loose a little, will you?” You start. “If it makes you feel better, I’m heading there with a companion. They’ll be able to look after me while you are busy, better?”

Moze’s frown seems to deepen, not necessarily easing his worry like you’d hope. “Who is it?”

“Mr. Argen—”

“Absolutely not—“

Before Moze could finish his demand, you take his hand in yours. The complaints on his tongue die and his heated stare is on you. The folds of his worried expression only creases further, you had to squeeze his gloved hand.

“I have always been grateful for your companionship, so never think otherwise that I’m trying to cast you aside.”

“So why can’t I…” Moze bites his tongue when you shake your head again.

“Well if I mention anything then it wouldn’t necessarily be a surprise now will it?”

When his response is nothing but silence you finally drop his hand, trying to swerve around him yet again to leave. “Thank you for your generous services, Mr. Shadow Guard. Then, I’ll see you—“

A firm grip on your hand stops you dead on your tracks. You turn your head to look at Moze, there was a complicated expression on his face, his brow pinched more than usual, frown deeper and velvet pupils simmering.

“…Moze?”

He snaps out of it in an instant, “I do trust you, It's just I’m—” He blinks, reconsiders his words, then releases your hand. “Nevermind. Have fun, come find us if anything happens.”

You watch your companion turn to leave, his familiar purple hood disappearing around the corner. You cannot help but sigh, now you feel guilty for pushing him away like this.

“There you are.” Argenti greets you from behind as he taps your shoulder.

“Hey, Argenti.”

He takes notice of the look in your face, tilting his head. “What’s with the morose expression, my dear friend?”

“Oh.” You turn away. “Sorry, I just brushed away a friend just now and I feel terrible about it.”

Argenti hums, patting your head gently. “I see. Well, if it eases your worry, I am here to announce that I have found a stall that can help you make your requests. However, they are not in Aurum Alley.”

You perk up. “That’s great news.” You smile. “Thank you, can you show me where they are?”

“Of course,” Argenti smiles at you, “The craftsman I stumbled upon usually hangs around Exalting Sanctum, come with me.”

Before you take a step, you dare to look over your shoulders at the place where you saw Moze disappear, then turn to follow Argenti down the road.

When Moze returns back to Jiaoqiu and Feixiao with a sour expression on his face—they didn’t need to piece together the cause of such sullenness for the assassin. A laugh cannot help but slip from the lips of their General as she quips,

“You know, if the both of you are jealous due to lack of attention just say so. I can’t have two of my retainers looking especially like kicked pups in front of the Luofu’s and Zhuming’s generals.”

Jiaoqiu cannot help but grumble. “Don’t tease us like that, General.”

It was a brief feeling, and the first that you’ve felt in years: the fear in your skin, grief in your chest and the pain woven in your brain. Smoke dresses your veins and you choke on the exhaustion, knees hitting the bloodied grass beneath you.

Your heart is pounding in your ears and instead of the familiar Luofu inn—you remembered being back in that particular field of massacre, bodies of your people falling like weeds as Borisins cut them down, one by one, their screams of pain piercing through you.

More specifically, the bloody screams of your parents as they pushed you to continue running. Don’t look back, their words echo. Keep running my dear, don’t turn around— when their screeches are accompanied by painful gasps and squelches of bodies being torn apart like lacy ribbons, You dare to turn around.

“Mother! Father!” You scream so hard it makes you dizzy. Fat tears spill down your cheeks, a pitiful sob wrenching from your throat. “Please don’t leave me, I don’t have anybody else. What am I supposed to do, I don’t want to be alone, I’m begging you—!“

Your eyes snap open.

You awake from that nightmare with a billowing gasp.

The night is tame and your room is quiet, but your heart is a drum in your chest. When you sit up, the remnants of tears are all that remains of the tragedy of your youth.

Mom, dad. You cannot help but let out a shaky exhale, curling into yourself to stop the tremor that chills through your whole body. It’s okay, you’re no longer in that field.

Restlessness sinks into your bones after that, so instead of laying awake in your bed you were leaning against the open window. Luofu’s night air appears colder than what you were used to. You tap your finger against the surface of the wood beneath you.

You hear a brief noise faint in the ears.

You close your eyes.

“I know it’s you, Moze.”

There was silence, then a low hum that belonged to one person. “You’re awake still.” The tides of umbra shadows linger, materializing his familiar tall build leaning against the wall just outside your open window.

You shoot him a smile. “I am unable to sleep tonight.”

It takes a while for him to respond. He turns around, approaching you and ducking his head to enter through. “Are you alright?” He asks when his feet hit your wooden floors.

“Just, thinking a lot.” You say. “That’s all.”

“Nightmares?” Moze asks.

“Nightmares.” You confirm.

You can feel the man frown before you can see it. Though by then, you decided to lift the lighthearted mood with a question, “How about you, why are you still here?”

Moze decides to play along with your whims, “I decided to attack the General tonight, but as always, she managed to dodge it all.”

Ah, that.

You dare not question Moze’s and Feixiao’s weird little bonding the moment you found out about this arrangement. Apparently they’ve been going on like this since Feixiao first saved Moze from the disciples of Sanctus Medicus. To him, Feixiao is both his benefactor and enemy, the relationship they both have concurrently was fixed upon a promise, a declaration and a sense of respect for one another.

You stir from your own thoughts when you feel someone tug the ties of your attire.

“Your hanfu isn’t aligned properly.”

You look up at his steady velvet eyes. Moze’s in front of you now, murmuring his excuse as his fingers flatten upon the fabrics, tugging and hoisting and pulling until it’s finally centered and his irk is satiated.

You watch his fuss beneath your softened gaze, you reminisce on such a simple gesture. “Hey, Moze?”

He diverts his attention, looking into your eyes.

“Thank you, you know, for sticking around.”

You feel his fingers flinch from your statement. The frown on his face shows his puzzlement.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean just that.”

“Are you gonna do something that would cause us to be separated?” You wanted to laugh at how serious his tone had become, hardened and alerted. The levity doesn’t sink into him, for he had pinched your chin, drawing your attention back to him.

“Answer me, please.” He pushes a little, not roughly but not gentle either. The moonlight strokes the crevices of his pinched expression, a sprinkle of salt and pepper of seriousness.

Just when you are about to retort, he adds in with a quickened breath.

“I don’t want us to be separated.” He says ardently. “You are too important to me.”

You are vaguely aware of his other hand still lingering by your waist, the one that was constantly tugging and pulling your hanfu in place. Outside the Luofu’s night air, you feel nothing but warmth, your heart is quickly filled with a flood of wanton and fullness,

And belonging.

You felt like you finally belonged.

The fear that you had felt mere minutes ago completely washes over, reassured by Moze’s blunt responses. You take a step closer to him, winding your arms around his neck and burying your face on his shoulder, the man stills at your unexpected behavior but is quick to recover, purchasing his hands on your lower back, soothing the skin there by rubbing his thumbs.

Reignbow Arbiter. You murmur to yourself. Whatever happens, please protect them. Protect my sister, protect Moze and Jiaoqiu. Do what you must, please, I beg of you. I don’t want to be alone anymore.

And for a split moment, you are weighed down by the reality that your prayers are merely just a gust of wind for something as almighty as the divine that ruled over the cosmos. It happened oh so suddenly that fear almost shatters your entire body into two.

“Hoolay has escaped from the Shackling prison!” A guard’s words echo through you that moment.

“He has taken a Yaoqing messenger with him, his name is…”

Moze inhales, messy in appearance after just coming back from the Shackling prison. The words thick on his tongue and fist clenched.

“…Jiaoqiu was taken by that escaped Borisin Warhead.”

You watch the starskiffs pass by your vision, the wind that gently gossips upon your skin felt so numb. You grip the rail before you, inhaling a breath, Jiaoqiu’s taken. You exhale, resting your head on your arm. He’s taken and no one knows where he is.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

You hear Feixiao approach you, you don’t lift your head to look at her and she settles on the space beside you, diamond blue-eyes accompanying you gazing at the numerous skiffs before you.

When you’ve gotten used to her presence, she turns, “How are you holding up?”

You cannot help but chuckle. “I’m not the one who needs comforting.”

She hums. “I know.” Her eyes are back on the starskiffs. “I am not familiar with offering words of comfort either, but I know you. I’ve known you for a very long time, don’t try to hide your emotions from me.”

You don’t answer her, you don’t for a very long time. So when you do, your voice cracks. “I’m scared. So, so scared—“

“Look at me, please?”

You finally lift your head. When your eyes settle onto Feixiao, she’s a watercolor of vanilla and blue. You didn’t realize you were crying until she started wiping the strays rolling down your cheeks.

You disliked crying, it makes you feel so weak—so open. However, you press Feixiao’s warm palm on your cheek, letting her comfort you because your fear is spiking yet again, memories of your dead parents rising to choke you whole.

“We’ll get him back, that I can promise.” Feixiao’s forehead is against yours.

You can only nod, squeezing her hand. “I know you will. You three are so strong, the strongest people I know.”

She finally releases you, not before pressing a delicate kiss on your temple. “I love you,” she tells you like she’s sealing a promise on your skin. “I’ll be having an audience with General Huaiyan and Jingyuan. Moze and I won’t be back for a while until this situation rolls over.”

You see the uncertainty clouding within Feixiao’s eyes. “Will you be alright being alone for a few hours?”

Your sister has always been so concerned for you, she’s been like this since you were young and you’re grateful that she cares about your well-being.

You shake your head with a smile as a response. “I’m no longer a child, Madam General. I can handle myself, so go do what you need to do.”

You don’t leave your place, raising a hand and waving as Feixiao leaves you to your own thoughts. Your smile falls then, ruminating on the current situation with a heavy heart.

“Jiaoqiu, Feixiao and Moze.” You mutter out to the wind and the virring skarskiffs passing beneath the bridge. “Please be safe.”

As you finally let your prayers fly in the wind, you step down the bridge and decide to focus your mind on other matters—you decide to stroll around Exalting Sanctum to check up on the craftsman that promised you your items.

Under the dim alley of Exalting Sanctum, Jiaoqiu stills with quiet breaths, his sharp eyes hovering between the disguised Warhead and Mok tok.

Even if he’s stringed up by them, he’s certain that General Feixiao had gotten the message of the prison break as well as his capture. His only course of action now is to stall for the Cloud knights, he’s giving time for Moze and General Feixiao to capture Hoolay.

“Since you’re so confident that the Cloud Knights have closed the ports, Jiaoqiu, I’m giving you a chance to go and see for yourself. Go to the ports, come back, and tell me what you saw.”

What is he thinking? Jiaoqiu scrutinizes as he steps into the bustling streets of Exalting Sanctum. His butterscotch eyes lift up to the sky, then around the streets, he’s certain that Warhead isn’t giving him freedom, the piercing gazes of suspicious foxians watching closely on his behavior is enough for him to thread carefully.

If he interacts with anyone aside from checking up on the ferryman, he fears there will be consequences. Jiaoqiu’s steps are paced, weighty and enduring. His mind is a blur of colors, but he manages to reach the port, his voice hushed as he talked with the so-called ferryman who’s responsible for the Warhead’s escape.

Jiaoqiu had thought the Xianzhou had closed the ports, but it still remains open. What's going on?

He inhales, he can feel someone watching him. The prodding looks make the hairs on his tail stand up. He exhales, climbing up a flight of stairs and turning the corner—

“Ah, there you are, young one. I was wondering where you were, and where’s your red-headed companion?”

“It’s just me today.” A familiar voice, “May I ask for the progress of what I ordered?”

Jiaoqiu’s breath is paper thin and his bones stiffen, what are you doing here?

He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you, his amber eyes zone in on you in an instant. At first, he felt relieved. You seem to be faring well even after the events that had happened in a span of a few hours—and then after relief, he felt dread.

Jiaoqiu can still feel eyes following his every move, he cannot go to you. But what if you saw him? What if you approached him and demanded to take him?

What would the Borisins do to you?

Jiaoqiu should’ve left when he had the chance instead of just standing there—because after your conversation with a craftsman, you had turned on your heel and your eyes had stopped on him.

No, Jiaoqiu mutters to himself.

He sees the arraying emotions washing over your face, the look of shock, relief, then yearning.

“Jiaoqiu is that…you?” Your tone is laced with a certain type of sob that rips his heart into two. His fingers twitch on his side, the desperation to embrace you is almost palpable—your actions will have consequences.

He stops himself shortly.

Jiaoqiu turns his head, and leaning at the far corner is a stranger, a foxian, his shadowed expression sharp on him, scrutinizing and calculating.

“Jiaoqiu!” He’s snapped back to reality when he hears you approaching him, hurried paces against the stony ground. He cannot be seen speaking with you.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Your voice is strained and vulnerable, eyes glassy. “Where have you been, how did you—“

When you reach over to touch him, Jiaoqiu turns and slaps your hand away, harshly.

The two of you pause for a full minute, shocked at the action.

Jiaoqiu? Your eyes dissect him slowly, his butterscotch eyes are sharp, narrowed, expression complicated and folded with a million emotions. What’s happening?

“Is something wrong?” You ask him slowly. For a very long moment you only stared at each other. Jiaoqiu looks like he wants to reach out to you, to apologize for slapping your hand away—for his fingers ache to touch you.

But at the same time he looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. He keeps shifting on his heel, like he’s ready to walk away from you. But why?

Is someone watching him?

You turn your gaze, looking around the crowd but Jiaoqiu’s voice stops you,

“Stop it.” he hisses at you, “Go, get out of here.”

”..Okay.” You can do nothing but exhale. “Okay uhm, then I’ll get someone here, perhaps a Cloud Knight—“

“No!” Jiaoqiu yells at you and you flinch.

“Don’t—just don’t do anything. Forget you saw me and go back, please.”

Forget you saw him, he says. This is the first time you’ve seen Jiaoqiu this agitated, not even your first argument was he this icy, so harsh on you—you’re trying to understand why he’s acting like this but you cannot come to a conclusion.

You want to abide by what he says, you really do, but Jiaoqiu’s right here. If you left now, what would those borisins do to him—would they kill him like how they killed your parents?

The very thought of it sends a chill through your spine, your heart seizing in fear. So when Jiaoqiu turns around hastily, dread crawls up your body just watching his back as he walks away from you.

You know Jiaoqiu’s trying to protect you. You know it, but at the same time you cannot let him go.

You close the distance, enough to grasp the straws of his sleeve fabric—but the response is almost instantaneous, Jiaoqiu circles your wrist and tugs you to a dim alleyway impatiently. He’s aware of the heated gazes of the borisins but he tries to get away enough to push you up against the wall, to take all your attention.

Jiaoqiu’s aware of your wide, tear-stained eyes and shaking body. “I’m sorry, Jiaoqiu. I just can’t, let me expl—“ your words stumble between your lips like a drunk as you try to explain yourself but he simply flattens his palms on your mouth, and his voice is low, hurt and in pain.

From here, his butterscotch eyes that were once a gentle pool of honey and orange are now hardened like a resin, angry.

“When I tell you to run, run, little scribe.” Jiaoqiu forces his voice to leave his throat, a shaky exhale of statements. “I promised you, I promised General Feixiao that I would protect you, I would do anything for that. Your life is worth more than mine.“

You shake your head fervently, struggling from his hold but Jiaoqiu holds you closer, head falling unceremoniously on your shoulder, his soft ears tickling your cheek.

“They’re listening.” Jiaoqiu murmurs, shifting his hands to hold the frame of your face closely. “I need to go back to them.”

“They’re gonna hurt you at this rate.” You hiss. “Just come with me, Jiaoqiu, and then—“

“Then they’re gonna hurt the people here!” Jiaoqiu’s ear twitches as he bites back. “We are not to draw any form of attention to ourselves, don’t be selfish—“

“So what if I am?!” You grasp his hand, pressing your cheek against the heat of his own palm. “I don’t care if you call me selfish, I—“

Your words stumble, he can feel fresh tears on his skin.

“You’re breaking my heart, Jiaoqiu.” you sobbed. “I just want you to be safe with me, with sister and Moze.”

Jiaoqiu closes his eyes.

He is reminded of that crammed table that could slot four people. He remembers the spicy scent of food, the banters, the laughs.

Jiaoqiu engulfs you in a tight hug, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” he pauses. “I know where you’re coming from, you told me your story before, haven’t you?”

His lips brush the side of your temple, as if sealing a promise.

“I love you.” He tells you, and agony is in your heart. “I’m sorry, so so sorry, but I can’t leave with you, not when I know people will die if I escape and especially not when I know Hoolay will be the key to cure the general’s illness. Go find Moze as fast as you can, I'll try to stall those wolves for you.”

“Jiao—“ but he’s pulling away and disappearing from your view, taking the warmth with him. You could hardly stand on your own two feet, barely registering what had just happened.

You foolish fox…you push yourself off the ground, stumbling out of the alleyway with your eyes sweeping across the area.

But he’s gone, just like that.

You bend down, your balled fist slamming hard against the wall in frustration.

Jiaoqiu, an image of him enters your head, the patterns of torment in his eyes. You turn around and sprint for it. Please, stay alive.

But the world is not in your favor.

As soon as you distance yourself from Jiaoqiu, it isn't long before you feel eyes following you. You have been ever since you left the alleyway. Your heart hurts, and you aggressively wipe your tears on your sleeve.

For that Warhead to force your companion to do all of those things, you feel anger simmering beneath your arteries. How dare he—how dare he force Jiaoqiu to say all of those?

You quicken your steps then, someone was after you. Maybe that’s why Jiaoqiu wants to get away from you despite wandering around freely, because he was kept under close watch, he didn’t want them to draw their gaze on you.

Foolish, so foolish. You should’ve taken notice of the bloodthirsty eyes around Exalting Sanctum. Your breathing is heavy, you try to turn a corner—

You bump into someone.

They hold your shoulders steadily.

“Easy there, are you alright?” Gazing down at you was a man in Cloud knight uniform, you physically relaxed at the familiar attire. You step away from his hold, swiping the back of your palm on your cheeks.

“I’m alright, I apologize for bumping into—“

You stop. You feel murderous intent.

You settle your gaze on the Cloud Knight before you, he had foxian ears and a scar running down one of his eyes. Despite his gentle and raspy tone, his expression is cynical, but most of all,

His scent was so achingly familiar to the scent of the people that massacred your parents.

This is not a Cloud Knight.

“Is something wrong?” The man asks you.

You shake your head with a polite smile on your lips, your fingers nitpick at the wild thread from your pants, brushing the hidden knife tucked into it. “No, it’s alright. I just argued with someone unnecessary. I’m sorry for being such a sight—“

You merely wish to aim for his neck, to immobilize him so you can stumble out of the quiet corridor you were on and to mesh with the crowd. Just as your fingers reach for the weapon and to swipe—you hear bone crunching, your knife falling to the ground and your scream is choked by his hand, clamping down and gripping your jaw and cheeks, his claws dig deep and they feel sharper against the pillow of your skin.

“Pathetic human.” the foxian clicks his tongue. “So much vigor for such a weak attack.”

Hot blood trickles down from the open wound on your wrist, it hits the pebbles ground like rubies.

“If you want to chastise me for my measly attempt, at least say such a thing out of your disguise.” You breathed heavily, gaze sharp and angry. “You have no right to say that to me when you’re the one hiding like a whelp, you damn wolf.”

“A sharp-tongue, just like that pink fox.” Mok tok says it so disdainfully, his claws cut your skin, he leans in close to you, inhaling. “You smell of him too, as well as two other scents on you. So you’re close-knit.”

Jiaoqiu, your mind utters. What did you do to Jiaoqiu?

The borisin laughs at your unfortunate situation. “Now because of both your stupidity, your life will be nothing but fodder for our cause. Sing praises, little human, you have no one but that fox to blame for your misfortunes.”

“Of course, a lowly beast like you would think like that.” You try to bite back your scowl. “Blame him? How shallow do you see me, blaming someone whom you’ve shackled and taken hostage?”

“You speak as if your opinions hold absolution. Well, relish in these short-lived quips. Our lord wishes to cause chaos within the Xianzhou streets, it won’t take long and you will be nothing but another body to clean up and placed on a star skiff after this farce.”

You close your eyes. White, hot anger threatens to brew out of you like a storm, but you can feel the bones in your legs weakening, the dripping blood causing you to feel lightheaded—is this how you’ll die?

You slump against the stone wall behind you, your vision starting to blur.

“Feixiao.” You mumble, biting your lip one last time. “She’s strong, her alone will be enough to cut down a thousand of you. I swear upon my name, she’ll make sure you borisins will taste nothing but bitter defeat. You and your lord will not leave this ship and see freedom till your last dying br—“

Your words were hindered as something sharp swipes through your throat. Your pulse dies and everything goes pitch black.

For a split moment, his heart hurt and his eyes snapped open to nothing.

The ache is almost indescribable, almost painful as Jiaoqiu jolts awake from a nightmare, hand flying to his throat. He didn't realize he was mumbling in distress until he heard the chair beside him creak clumsily—like someone had jumped up from being seated for so long.

When his nose picks up the scent of Dreambranch incense, Jiaoqiu momentarily realizes where he was.

He lets out a breath. “I wasn’t aware you were here, Moze.”

“Jiaoqiu you…” Jiaoqiu can almost hear the reluctance in his tone—and if he had his vision, he would have seen a complicated expression on the assassin’s face, the familiar furrowed brows and deep frown.

“Don’t sound so uptight. I’m fine, I just had a nightmare is all.” the lighthearted tone quickly withers after remembering the dream that had made his fingers tremble.

“Moze, has…”

Moze is quiet by definition, but the absence of even a breath from him is all too unnerving. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch, picking up on the way the chair creaks at the weight of being occupied, then a heavy breath.

Bitter is in Moze’s tone. “…little scribe has still not been found yet.”

Jiaoqiu smiles resentfully.

After the whole dilemma with Hoolay and the Wardance ceremony, he had just narrowly escaped the jaws of death when Moze had found him in an alleyway half-dead. He had lost track of the days that passed as he recovered slowly within Luofu's commission.

Everyone is slowly recovering from the aftermath, him, Feixiao and Moze—severely injured from fighting Hoolay and the remainder of the wolves that thrashed the streets.

All but you.

After everything was settled, General Feixiao had ordered knights to track your whereabouts. But not a single person had found you or possibly,

your body.

Jiaoqiu does not like to think of the latter choice.

But it’s been days, and the seed of hope within him is slowly withering.

After fixing his clothes, he peels the blankets which prompts a curt response from Moze.

“Where are you going?”

“I want to take a stroll, I feel restless..”

A gentle yet firm hand lands on his shoulder. “You mustn't.” Moze says. “That dragon lady just injected Draconic Ichor dewdrops to you last night, your tissues haven’t fully replenished, you’re not allowed to move as you please, at least not right now.”

“You’re confined to the alchemy commission just as much as the general and I.” Jiaoqiu quips back. “And yet you’re here in my room, defying clear orders from Miss Lingsha.”

It was unspoken, but Jiaoqiu is aware of the times Moze slips out the commission at night, searching for you until the dawn peaks and people start to flurry back onto the streets.

He’s aware of Feixiao talking with the authorities within the Luofu, talking with higher ups and people to help with the search, to find people who would help find even an inkling of you somewhere.

And just like him, those two are just as aware of the times Jiaoqiu sits alone on the bed, a smile on his lips as Lingsha or Bailu leaves the door when he says he was feeling okay. unaware—but aware to two of his companions—that he’d pray helplessly for your safety every day, praying that you’d show up at some point. He prays, promises that he’d never place mushrooms in your bowl again, so you can finally come back to him.

It wasn't spoken aloud, but actions were made clear on how the Yaoqing general and her two delegates had missed you like no other.

They loved you, after all.

The hand on his shoulder drops, and Jiaoqiu turns to the direction where he knows he’s facing the assassin. He’s still unsure with his own movements and gestures, being in such a state—he’s conflicted of what to feel, but his visual impairment doesn’t affect him as much as his growing dread of your absence and his heavy heart did.

“If you plan to take a stroll, then i’ll accompany you.”

Jiaoqiu’s smile is soft, feeling the looming presence of his companion by his side, easing him towards the door in a clumsy gesture.

“I owe you, Moze.” He tells him when they exit the commission.

“You don’t owe me anything.” Moze replies. “Just, keep yourself healthy so you can continue to be by the General’s side.”

“Of course. Isn’t that already a given due to my position?”

“…You’re making that face.”

Jiaoqiu’s ear flick at his directness.

He pushes out a chuckle, “What face?”

“Like you just failed the General.” The familiar thump thump thump of Moze’s footsteps pause, the pink-haired healer does the same.

“It’s not your fault that they’re missing.”

“Is that so?” Jiaoqiu wonders. From the distance, he can taste the sea waves, the ether trickling its whisper on his ears and kissing his skin cold. “Do you remember what the General told us months ago when we were first called to her office?”

Moze stays quiet. Jiaoqiu continues, “the General had told us that there was an attempted assassination on her kin.” He grits his teeth. “She told us that she was worried, that one day, the most precious person in her life would face a tragic end because of her—“

“Jiaoqiu—“

“The little scribe.” Jiaoqiu sighs, shaky. He feels pathetic, saying all of this in front of Moze. He’s supposed to be the eldest, the wisest, but given the circumstances, there’s nothing but loathing and self-deprecating thoughts in his mind.

Helplessness has found a home in his chest once again, he hasn't felt this way since being a healer on the battlefield.

“There’s no excuse for this.” Jiaoqiu turns then.

“It was direct orders from the General to protect them, I exposed them to Hoolay and now we don’t know if they’re safe or not. I…I failed that order. If only—“

And faltering, “if only I walked away just before they saw me—“

Warmth. Just before he finished his sentence, he felt arms embracing him.

For a moment, he was stunned. Moze hugging him? That’s quite an unlikely situation, then he smells that scent—the scent of wind and vanilla and herbs, as well as the feeling of smaller sinewy arms around his shoulders.

“Is that how you felt, Jiaoqiu?” It was General Feixiao.

“...Did you also slip out of the alchemy commission, General? Ignoring the doctor’s orders again I see.”

“Compared to you, I have almost recovered.” Feixiao’s embrace only tightens much to Jiaoqiu’s surprise. “But you, I heard from Miss Lingsha that you’re healing very poorly despite the treatments you’ve received. They had thought it was because of the toxins still in your body, but I thought of another reason. You feel responsible for what has happened.”

“It’s just a trivial thought of mine, I never wished to concern you with my own health and problems, General.”

“Don’t say nonsense, a healer doesn’t heal himself.” Feixiao mutters on his shoulder. “And I thought an embrace can help ease you, Miss March had said so.”

“Ah, the spirited one from the Astral Express.” Jiaoqiu dithers. “Thank you for the kind offer, General but I’m alright—“

He stiffened once again when he felt another pair of arms around him, piling up on Feixiao's embrace. He is unsure of what to do with his hands, so he pats either of his companion’s arms.

“This isn’t necessary.”

“It is.” Moze says it seriously, dutiful.

Jiaoqiu would have let this slip, if it weren't for the fact that his back is starting to ache from all the weight pushing him down. His companions are—after all—all bulk sinews and muscles from exercise, compared to his leaner stature.

“It isn’t. If anyone were to see this, they would think the Yaoqing—“

“Sorry, am I interrupting a beautiful sentimental moment between comrades?”

Jiaoqiu pushes both Feixiao’s and Moze’s arms when another tone quips up from the distance.

The smell of fragrant roses hits his nose, the subtle feel of the atmosphere shifting at the arrival of that knight whom you have accompanied half the time during the Luofu.

“This is the first time greeting you, knight of beauty.” Feixiao is the first to speak, kindness in her tone. “May I know the agenda of your visit?”

“I have come here to fulfill a request from a friend.” Argenti’s tone dips into genuine sorrow. “As well as to say sorry, for what has happened.”

The clack of armor against the cobblestone, the rustle of something he isn’t quite sure of, then Argenti’s syrupy tone again.

“Your young companion has had a surprise to offer to you three. They had sought me for assistance for it, and it’s only today that the craftsman had finished it. I thought of delivering it on their behalf.”

”What is it?” asks Moze. Argenti steps up and offers a hand, Moze reluctantly extends his, hitting his palm with something soft, almost heavy.

“I heard it’s Xianzhou tradition to give things like this to someone special.” His smile is soft. “It’s to signify good luck and blessings.”

Moze is quiet. “…They did this?”

And the knight nods, giving the other tassels to the two. This was the surprise you’ve been in secrecy for the longest time, Moze notes clutching the red tassel tightly between his palms. It’s a gift, for them.

“Thank you for delivering this, knight.” Feixiao offers her gratitude. She's the only one that is engaged in the conversation, Moze is otherwise quiet—and Jiaoqiu’s too busy trying to trace a pattern on the tassel thread to say his own tidings.

But Argenti is understanding, after a few more words said, the knight of beauty excuses himself, leaving the three to their own thoughts.

When silence is all that envelopes, Feixiao turns towards her companions.

“Do you want me to place the tassel on your person, Jiaoqiu?” The pink-haired healer smiles at the gentle brush of his general’s tone, giving his tassel to her so she can hang the accessory around his belt.

“I can do it for you too, Moze.”

“Okay.” Moze leans forward. “I’ll place yours, General.”

The tassels are caressed by the gentle breeze of the distant shore of Lunarescent Depths, the meaning of its thread weighs heavy.

“They are alive somewhere, that I am sure of.” Feixiao said it like a promise than an assumption. “We won’t return to the Yaoqing until I am sure of that.”

“I am with you, General.” rasps Moze.

“Where will I be if not by your side as your doctor?” Jiaoqiu chuckles. “Even with my current state, I wish to give it my everything.”

Suddenly, hurried footfalls on heavy cobblestone gave way to a new arrival.

Both Jiaoqiu and Feixiao’s ears twitch at the sound. Moze’s sharp eyes darted towards a Cloudknight who was approaching them, out of breath.

“General Feixiao!’ the Cloudknight heaves a breath, his hurriedness draws all three to his manners.

“What is it?”

“The Yaoqing scribe—your companion has been found.” The air stills and Jiaoqiu inhales a sharp breath, the Cloudknight continues through heavy breaths. “The IPC representatives have claimed that they found your scribe, they had just entered the Alchemy commission.”

It’s a miracle, one peels at your consciousness. Thank your Reighbow arbiter for such wonderment, you were given a second chance, the second sores a bruise on your skin.

Your carotid arteries are surprisingly intact, you only manage to harbor a few broken rib cages, wrist bone and clavicle, the third draws a muddy filth until you find yourself awakening from a tormented scene, clutching the expanse of your bandaged-wrapped neck like you’ve lost its anatomy—for a short moment, you thought you have gone without a neck.

Your eyes bruise beneath the sun, sticking it towards the open window of Luofu’s Alchemy Commission, the wind gossips, and the duvets hug your thin frame.

You inhale the medical-scented room, you're alive, exhale, you're okay.

“Feixiao.” your dry mouth utters the first words. “Jiaoqiu.” you push yourself up, dragging your feet towards the edge of the bed, toes hitting cold planks.

“Mo—” then, the door bursts open.

Your eyes snap up and a lamp lights in your pupils.

Moze was standing there, in the flesh.

“Moze—” and you startle in surprise when the gaps between the two of you immediately cease, large arms engulfing you whole. Which was unexpected, because Moze is not one to initiate physical contact with anyone. But to the assassin—feeling you in his arms, the dresses of breaths you let out and the warmth that wools you reassures Moze that you are here. You truly are here in his arms.

“You’re okay.” came his shaky response, he gathers you closer, your beating pulse resting on his cheek. “You’re fine now.”

A couple more footfalls came, Feixiao and Jiaoqiu had arrived.

Feixiao calls your name when her eyes land on you, the synonyms a delicate stroke on her tongue, then her warm palm finds a home on your cheek.

You gaze at her, watching her ocean eyes crinkle with relief, her ears tilted back to show just how troubled she was. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m sorry, sister.”

She leans forward to bump her forehead with yours, levity in the air. “Don’t be sorry.”

When Moze and Feixiao finally pull away, your eyes drag towards the last person in the room who hasn’t uttered a single word yet. You see a smile on his lips but it does not reach his eyes.

“Jiaoqiu,”

“Little scribe,” his voice betrays his calm disposition. “You’re okay.”

“I am.” you start. “Please come closer.”

You see his reluctance before he approaches you—slightly slower than normal—reaching his arms out before finding your bed, sitting on the edge of it. His actions sent an ache through your heart.

“How are you feeling?” Jiaoqiu asks. “We heard your wrist was broken and your throat slashed…”

“The medicine that the healers from the IPC gave me helped and my wrist is healing. But you, Jiaoqiu, I heard that your eyes…”

Jiaoqiu gives you a smile and you finally confirm that it is in fact true.

He cannot see anymore.

Even if he’s visually unavailable, Jiaoqiu knows you. And he knew you were crying, his fingers reaching out to you, trying to feel where you were. You meet him halfway, clasping your fingers with his and pressing your cheek against the palm of his hand. His thumb swipes across your wet skin and his forehead taps against yours.

The whole situation weighs on your chest—your endangerment, the severe injuries those three received, the aftermath and the reunion, you cannot help but finally crash down from everything. You wrap your arms around Jiaoqiu, a heavy sob wracking through your whole body and he holds you impossibly close. You feel Moze’s and Feixiao’s hands rubbing circles on your back, soothing your cries.

“Please don’t cry, I’m—we’re okay.” Jiaoqiu softly croons, running his thumb up and down the wet skin of your cheek.

“So are you,” his face crumbles and he bites back his own sobs. “Thank you so much for being okay and coming back to us, thank you so much.”

When your heavy cries fade into weak sniffles, Jiaoqui holds the frame of your face so delicately, wiping away the remnants of wetness, leaning down to rub your nose with his. “Better?” and in response, you grunted.

Everyone takes a seat near your bed. Moze reaches out to give you a handkerchief and you gratefully take it. Afterwards, you fall back into conversation, asking them what had happened during your absence. Feixiao is the one to elaborate to you the aftermath of the borisin attack, their recovery and the resume of the Wardance.

You crack a smile, “I was really excited to see that ceremony.”

“We can all go there together.” There’s a faint smile on Moze’s lips. “That knight will take part from what I heard and there will be other contestants across the universe.”

“After our recovery, since everything has been handled by General Jingyuan, I will be able to join you three and partake in the ceremony.” Feixiao speaks. “It will take about a week before the Wardance will conclude, then we can all return to the Yaoqing.”

The Yaoqing, your gaze drops to your hands, your smile thinning.

“...I have something to tell you three.”

This garners their attention, with a breath of courage you mutter out, “When the Luminary Wardance concludes in Luofu, I won’t be returning to the Yaoqing.”

You look up, your face serious. “ I’ll be joining the Intelligentsia Guild.”

Hours prior to your return to the Alchemy commission, you find yourself in a room that has been rented out by the IPC.

Someone knocks on your door and you grit back an exhale.

“I believe I’ve already sent my regards to you lot. I am grateful for your aid but I never imagined I would be bombarded, entangled in some miscellany with the IPC, much less..”

You turn your head, glare landing on the tall man with dark purple hair. “Much less from such a distinguished figure from the renowned Intelligentsia Guild.” You let out a tired sigh. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Let’s not speak in riddles and pleasantries then.” Despite your bite, Ratio’s tone remains firm and gentle. “You are already aware of our intentions and I’m merely here to remind you of it.”

“As I said it once and I’ll say it again. I’m a pathstrider of the hunt, I have no interest in joining other factions.”

“I suppose a little stubbornness will suffice, however your missing the point of my argument. Your companions, I heard those three Yaoqing folks—including you—were severely injured during the attack of the borisins. If the IPC hadn't found you when they did, I’m afraid you would have been dead, long ago.”

“So this is the game you’re playing. I heard the Intelligentsia Guild was heavily sponsored by the IPC. I have dealt with people like you during my time in the Yaoqing office and I’m not a fool to fall for your petty schemes. This talk is more catered to your interest much more than mine, am I right, Doctor?”

Dr. Ratio sighs. “I must admit, I was sent here under orders from Madam Yabuli. But I also have my own curiosities about you.”

“Your achievements in the Yaoqing are far more popular than you think. The IPC has recognized it and so have I. There’s an open spot in the Intelligentsia Guild that we can offer you, the Candelagraphos, it’s a printing department of the guild. Your scribe work has gained acknowledgement outside its capital and thus would make a good addition to us.”

Your fist is clenched onto the blanket, “So it’s more of a one-sided investment for you and your guild.”

“Incorrect.” Ratio says. “Going back to your companions, one of them holds the ancestral bloodline of the borisins, and the other has had his vision critically impaired—” Your chest twists at what he said. “—If you join the guild, you can gain access to a lot of information to help them that you can use at your own personal discretion.”

Ratio stands, setting a glass of water and medicinal herbs at your bedside. “That’s my offer to you.” He nods. “I do hope you think this one carefully, at your state, this is more of an opportunity than a disadvantage. I will provide assistance and vouch for you. For now, please rest.”

He turns. “You will return to your family tomorrow.”

Instead of resting like what Dr. Ratio had said, your heart is a bouquet of conflict. You spent the entire day tossing and turning, thinking about his offer, thinking about the possibility and opportunity you can get,

Thinking about leaving them, your mind pauses at the notion. You thought about it again before dismissing it. Their impact on you is so significant that you cannot envision living a life without Feixiao, Jiaoqiu and Moze. They helped you stand on your own two feet, would you still be able to stay afloat when they’re no longer by your side?

Then clarity sinks into your artery.

Jiaoqiu’s permanent injuries and Feixiao’s chronic illness. You can find something to help them, and thus as the sun sinks its color on the horizon line, you made the decision to accept.

You had explained your situation and decisions to your companions. Your hands had turned clammy as they listened to you intently.

Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch. “...You want to join them and use your experience as the Yaoqing’s scribe to research more about our conditions?”

“I thought about it and I don't see any reason to give up on this opportunity.” Your gaze drags to each of them slowly, dissecting the emotions on their faces.

“I have an idea of what you are gonna say, and I am aware of the dangers of joining them. But this is a choice I made, Jiaoqiu and Moze—you both have been my protectors and companions for a short time but it felt like an eternity. Ever since that day at my sister’s office, I never expected for such a bond to happen, nor did I expect to care so so much about you both. If I could go back and do it all again—I won’t change a single thing. Now it’s my turn to help you out.”

Your eyes flicker to Feixiao. “Sister.” you start. “You have been protecting me for all my life, please allow me to do the same for you. I’ll search for a cure for you and Jiaoqiu with my own abilities, please.”

Silence, and you waited with battered breaths, slightly terrified of their reactions. After all, if you join the intelligentsia guild, you would be leaving them.

Then you hear a breathy chuckle, you look up and all three of them are smiling at you.

“Is this what you want to do?” Feixiao asks.

You nod your head and her grin widens. “If that is what you wish for, then who am I to deny such a thing?

Moze lets out a breath, nudging you softly. “We will leave it in your extremely capable hands, Yaoqing’s scribe.”

“We are nothing but proud of you.” Jiaoqiu’s smile is so, so sweet. “Never forget that.”

“I have always been worried about you and your future. If this is the path that you chose for yourself, then go for it, I wouldn’t dare block you from doing something you want to do.” Feixiao reaches out to caress your cheek. “Then, should we spend the next few days together? This will be the last time all of us will be able to hang around each other.”

Your eyes are on your hands, your vision blurring as you try to wipe the wetness from your lashes. “Yeah, okay. That’s a deal.”

The day continued, but most of it was spent being in each other’s company, talking about anything and everything under the sun like you’d always do. The epilogue of the day started when Miss Lingsha knocked on your door, asking for Jiaoqiu to do a quick check up. Everyone had decided to end the day there, not before bidding you a good night’s rest.

By the time you all were able to finally leave the Alchemy commission, the Wardance ceremony had finally commenced. The four of you enjoyed watching the contestants battle to your heart’s content. The atmosphere dressed with the thrill of the crowd, at some point—when a Belobogian fighter was pitting against one of the robots of the IPC, you notice Moze looking at you from the corner of your eye.

“Is something the matter?” You catch his stare, but his velvety irises were intent on something on your face.

He points towards the side of his mouth. “Sauce.”

“Oh.” You immediately raise your hand to wipe—your sleeve comes with a drag of the familiar orangey sauce of your skewer. You thanked Moze and he nodded at you in greeting.

Five seconds pass.

“Want to try?” You raise your berrypheasant skewer to him. You cannot help but laugh at the quiet enthusiasm Moze showed, you cup a hand beneath when he leaned down to take a bite.

You grin at him as his expression glowed at the sweet taste.

It's easy to get lost in the flurry of joy and before you know it, the Luminary Wardance has been concluded and it is your final night with them before you go your separate ways. The night is gradual and Jiaoqiu finds himself conscious on his bed. His face wrinkles on a wince, feeling a burn crawling up his pulse and his chest caving in on himself—chronic pain, he remembered a doctor telling him post-discharge. Due to Lupitoxin and the aftermath of that tumbleweed I’m afraid you will be experiencing episodes of chronic pain.

The healer could do nothing but bite his lip to ease his pain rolling in waves.

Through the pain that hummed in his ears, he heard footfalls nearing his room. It’s the kind of pattering that happens when rain hits a soft cloth, the type that almost anchors him from his splintered head.

His heavy breath hitches when there’s a delicate rapping of knocks, then someone approaching his bed. He recognizes the familiar pattern of footsteps and turns his back to it.

“Are you awake, Jiaoqiu?”

A second too late. “Is something the matter?”

Silence greets him. He feels someone tug his blankets, lifting his duvets so you can occupy the space beside him.

Your head touches his back, Jiaoqiu clenches his hand.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Jiaoqiu asks.

“Yeah.” Your voice is barely a whisper. “Jiaoqiu, does it hurt?”

“No—” he slightly chokes on his reply. “I’m fine—I just need a few minutes, it will fade. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologize—”

“Then, can I hug you for a few minutes?” you ask. “Just for a few minutes—”

Before you can finish your own sentence, he has turned around and pulls you in his arms. Jiaoqiu smells like medicinal herbs and fragrance from incense.

You bury your face on his chest. He feels your hand clutch him tightly. “I…I wish I can stay for a little while longer and help—”

Jiaoqiu hushes you. “Why are you faltering now? Didn't you promise me that you would go to the guild to find a cure?”

“I know I did. I still want to go, but I wish to go to the Yaoqing first and be of assistance to you even for a short while. Leaving like this…”

“I will be okay, that I can promise you. Yes, it will be difficult but I don’t want my health to be a detriment to what you want to do.” Jiaoqiu’s warm breath is on your neck. There is a gentle rhythm to his palm running up and down on your back. “This isn’t our last goodbye, so don’t fret your head about it. By the time you come and visit, I will be better. Now sleep, you need the rest for the journey tomorrow.”

“Can I hold your hand while I fall asleep?”

Jiaoqiu chuckles heartily. “Silly.” He finds your hand, the furnace of warmth dancing beneath his palm. “I’ll allow it tonight. Now rest.”

Sometime during the night, like an invisible string—Moze appears, materializing within the room, his eyes gentle at the scene. You awaken to his familiar footsteps and the light rustle as you smell him burning another incense, stirring from your slumber and fluttering your drowsy gaze at the assassin.

Just as you part your lips to utter his name, Moze presses a finger to his lips.

He draws closer, pulling the blanket over both your shoulders and dragging a chair to rest beside the bed.

When your eyes lock with his, he mouths ‘keeping watch, go back to sleep.’

Your eyes crinkle and your heart flutters at his simple way of affection. You are aware of him coming sooner or later, according to your sister’s words, Moze would secretly slip into Jiaoqiu’s room. She believes he does this because he knows of the chronic pain and would light up the fragrant incense on the windowsill to make sure Jiaoqiu slept with a calm mind.

Then and there you’ve realized how different it is for them to love, to comfort. Not only love for you but love for each other. Feixiao and the two had a bond that was furnaced into iron—they were each other’s saving graces and security for as long as you remembered.

You can feel the weight of Jiaoqiu’s head next to yours, his arm loose around your waist. With your free hand you extend it towards Moze.

He looks at it, unsure of what you wanted.

“It’s chilly.”

“I just pulled the covers on you, are you still cold?”

“Your hand can warm me up nicely.” You say softly, “please?”

Moze’s palm without his glove is full of calloused surface, dried scars and roughness against your own. “Thank you,”

A beat of silence, then you see Moze lean forward. He runs his thumb across the bandages of your wrist.

“Your wrist.” He enunciates first. “Does it still hurt?”

Your lips curl up, shaking your head. But Moze does the honor of pressing his lips against your bandages, as if to ease you. Your consciousness slips to the comfort of Moze’s forehead on your knuckles, as if apologizing for being unable to protect you.

I’m sorry. His gestures suggest.

You squeeze back. Fingers brushing delicate strands of his grey hair, it’s okay.

When the night vanishes and the day breaks, Feixiao enters, then stops when she sees all three of you huddled together still sound asleep. The room barely nurses the sunny-egg yolk morning, creeping slow gold through the hard flooring.

Feixiao’s chuckle is thick with mirth. She grabs an extra blanket in the cabinet and quietly covers Moze’s frame slumbering stiffly on the chair, allowing a few more moments of respite between the three of you.

A few hours later, it’s finally time for departure and you stand on the Starskiff Jetty, your bags already loaded onto the skiff. Moze was the first to close the distance, giving you a very long hug as if to satiate the yearning he’d have if you leave. His muscled arms only seem to tighten as the seconds drag and you’re more than welcoming of this side of him.

“Take care of them and yourself.” Your whisper brushes his ear and you feel him hum.

“I’ll handle things over here,” he presses his lips against your temple. “You take care.”

When you pull away, you turn to Jiaoqiu. You’re the one that stepped into his open arms, claiming his shoulder as your homage for a split moment.

“I’m going to miss you.” His voice comes with a tremble. When he pulls away, his hands lay purchase on the chub of your cheeks. He runs his fingers through every angle, crook and dip like he’s memorizing the shape of your face.

You clasp his fingers and press a kiss to the back of his hand. “Me too.”

Jiaoqiu lifts his head, nodding at Moze. “I’ve packed you some Xianzhou food—with the help of Moze, of course. Thought you’d want to eat some one last time.” You turn and Moze hands you a bag of stacked lunch boxes. You cannot help the smile that creeps up your lips at the endearment.

“Thank you so much.” You dare try to sneak a peek inside one of the containers. The familiar aroma of Jiaoqiu’s homemade foods fill your bones in heavy nostalgia.

In one of the bowls, you’ve noticed something.

Your eyes snap up, “There’s no mushrooms.”

There was elation that crossed the fox’s expression, the tips of his lips curve upward and his tail swishes behind him.

“Just like you wanted.”

Your laughter is filled with sentimentality, you try to hide your sniffle, it does not escape him. “This is a first. I swear I'll miss eating your mushrooms though, even if I hated it.”

Jiaoqiu chuckles, reaching out to hold your face one last time. “I’ll take note of that then.”

Lastly, you turn towards Feixiao. A gracious smile settled on her lips.

“Sister.”

“Come here.” Her embrace is almost your last straw. You bury your nose on the crook of her shoulder, reminiscing her scent. Feixiao must’ve noticed your faltering disposition, for she had landed her hand on your back, dragging her palm up and down.

“Don’t cry.” She tells you.

“I’ll miss you, so so much,”

“I know.” She pulls you tighter. “I know. I’m gonna miss you too. You’re always welcomed into the Yaoqing anytime you wish to visit, and remember to write to us, okay?”

Feixiao rubs her cheek against your own. You nod and she spares you another grin. “Here.” She reaches for something. “I want you to have this.”

“What’s this?” You hold the tiny scroll in your palm.

“It’s a letter.” At her reply, you look up. “Open it when you’re on the ship.”

The time has finally come, and from behind Dr. Ratio calls your name. You turn to him, then back at them. Now that you’re gonna be separated, there’s hesitation rooted in your feet.

But your companions offer you encouraging smiles and you finally take a step away from them. With one last glance from behind and a—farewell, I love you—you enter the IPC starskiff. From your seat, you watch Feixiao, Moze and Jiaoqiu enter a different ship boarded for Yaoqing.

You press your hand against the glass, watching as their skiff breaks away from the same road as yours. Now that you’re here, there’s a creeping loneliness that settles on your chest.

“You think you’re gonna be okay?” Ratio comes by to check up on you and you nod your head, wiping the tears that rolls down your cheeks.

“Yes, sorry. I’ll be okay.”

You watch his eyes soften, crushed by a mortar and pestle. “The first goodbyes are always the hardest, there’s no need for apologies. It’s gonna be a long trip to the guild so help yourself with anything the ship provides. The IPC is the one funding it after all.”

“Alright, thank you doctor.”

When the Xianzhou Luofu disappears from your window view and the ocean of the vast galaxies span across vision, you finally tear away from it. You land your wet eyes on your clasp palms, the scroll that Feixiao gave you delicate in your hands.

You inhale, exhale, then open the letter—when the top comes off with a pop, something topples onto your lap and your eyes twinkle. Inside contains the same hand-crafted tassel, the only difference is that it is engraved with all your names,

You flatten the letter onto your palms next and it reads,

Even if such a perilous challenge comes your way, you were always the type to persist. We have always been aware of it, and in our eyes you are a strong and resilient person. We know you’ll do amazing wherever you go, you always have been, and we are so proud of you.

We’ll be alright, just as you would be.

May fates bring us all together one day, and when you come back to visit, let’s all have a meal together like we always do.

You are the pride of the Yaoqing, safe travels our dear scribe.

Much love, your guardians.

When your eyes rove the last characters of the letter it starts to blur. Your heart is honeyed by their words. You press your lips against the paper before lifting your gaze to the universe outside.

Goodbye, Xianzhou. You say your greetings to your home, no longer somber in the heart. Because at the end of the day,

You know you’ll all be okay.

THE END.

[monzabee]

run for the hills – lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where fate decides to bring you back into Lewis’ life, making him question his belief in fate.  

Pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

Word Count: 9.3k 

Warnings: cursing, crying, drinking and mentions of alcohol, mentions of brocedes (rip), kissing, unprotected sex (you shouldn’t be surprised at this point), oral (m receiving), hand kink, praise kink, minors dni!!

Request: “hey, Merry Christmas 🫶🏽 I was hoping I could request a Lewis smut fic where the reader is Nico Rosberg's sister (with a age gap of around 6-8 years with him and Lewis) and before 2016 they were just really close friends who just kissed once but chose to pretend it didn't happen. after years, they run into each other at a club or a party and they're pretty snappy at each other but there's a lot of tension too and they end up having sex where Lewis is really cocky and also the reader has a hand kink and praise kink? I'm so sorry if I made it too long, i love your writing <33” + “oooo please could i request something w lewis?! something gut wrenchingly angsty? sorry i don’t really have a plot in mind hhhh thank you heheh”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, i started this fic last week and i honestly didn't think I'd finish it this quickly but here we are. don't let my words fool you, i got the request last christmas but if you know me then you know that i am not quick when it comes to working on requests (i'm working on this i promise), not that this fic is even remotely christmassy, but let’s just appreciate that it is supposed to be set during the holiday period lol. this was supposed to be a shorter one but here we are, lol, i'm not even surprised at my inability to keep things short at this point. i posted this fic and realised i forgot to copy and paste a big chunk of it so oh well. as always, feedback is appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Lewis decided he doesn’t like cold a long time ago. That’s why, being the ever-decisive person he is, he chooses to spend his winter vacationing in places like the Maldives or Bali. His decisiveness is an important part of him, given what he does for a living. When he is on the track, in his car, there is no room for hesitation – he needs to be able to make split-second decisions under intense pressure, what’s not to love about that? So, once he decided he’d rather spend his time off basking in the sun rather than freezing to death somewhere else, he never looked back. He enjoys spending his time off in someplace tropical with his family, or without his family; most of the times away from the prying eyes and camera lenses of the media. 

But this time, it’s different – he's alone. 

Or rather, he thought he would be alone. The villa he rented out for the duration of the month is isolated, just how he likes it. He wakes up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore right outside his windows, and the distant chirping of tropical birds to accompany him as he lounges on the large deck, overlooking the infinite expanse of blue. There are no spectators around to gauge his reaction, try to get him to speak out about his plans for the next year when he moves to Ferrari, or what he’s going to do when he eventually retires one day. He hasn’t seen anyone from the racing world for weeks, and it’s been a much-needed break. He’d usually love to spend Christmas with his family, the only time he would ever tolerate the cold being when he is with his family, but this year he just wanted to get away on his own. 

There is no one around that expect anything from him. Just peace. 

He’s not a hermit, of course, but he enjoys spending his time by himself mostly isolated from all the other guests of the touristic area he’s staying in. The chef that works at the villa is on call for when Lewis decides that he wants to stay in for the night, the housekeeping staff come every morning to clean up around the house, then promptly leave, providing Lewis with the privacy he so desperately needs. But other than that, and a few nights spent outside in a restaurant or a club? He is all alone, and he is not complaining about it. Another thing about Lewis Hamilton is that he doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in setting and achieving goals; after all, that’s what he’s done all his life. His success isn’t some cosmic coincidence. It’s years of sacrifice by his parents, relentless effort, and unwavering determination. So, when things happen that feel serendipitous, like running into someone from his past, he doesn’t chalk it up to destiny. He chalks it up to the sheer unpredictability of life. 

And yet, as he steps out of the villa to head to a nearby beach club after dinner, he doesn’t expect to run into you, especially not after how the things ended last time, but there you are. His eyes find you at the bar with some guy next to you – he has to do a double take. Just to make sure, he tells himself. But no matter how many times his attention reverts to you, he knows it’s you. Of course, it’s you. Though he’s not a believer in fate or destiny, or whatever you might want to call it, there you are – dressed in a flowy linen dress. His first instinct is to ask the server to seat him somewhere else so that he wouldn’t have stare at you and your ‘date’ for the night. His grip on the glass in his hand tightens momentarily, and he exhales slowly, forcing himself to look away. This is not the moment, he tells himself. It’s not his business, not anymore. But still, his gaze drifts back to you. You’re laughing at something the guy says, your head tilted slightly as you sip from your drink. He can’t hear your laughter, no – but what a sound that would be to hear, he thinks for a moment. 

He knows he shouldn’t care who you’re with or what you’re doing; it’s been years since the two of you shared anything beyond... well anything, really. But something about seeing you here, in this place he thought was his private retreat from the world, feels like a twist of fate – or the kind of cosmic joke he claims not to believe in. But his eyes watch you as you throw you head back in a laugh and he can practically hear the sound in his head, his mind taking him to years ago when he used to be one of the people who got to hear it first hand; when he joined your family on karting days, or when you celebrated with him when he won a race, or even back to that one time when him and Nico were trying to drive those unicycles and you kept doubling over in laughter when they fell down – something your brother did not appreciate, but Lewis couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you from the ground.  

Somethings never change, he thinks, as he notices the smallest of smiles that has crept its way onto his face, quickly disappearing the moment he catches himself. He knows it shouldn’t matter to him – let alone bother him. But old habits die hard, and the sight of your smile, that easy laugh, stirs something in him that feels like both longing and a pang of annoyance. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin. Back then, it was teasing remarks that somehow felt more genuine than any praise he received elsewhere. He catches himself glancing your way again, his jaw tightening when the guy beside you leans in a little too close. It’s irrational, this surge of jealousy that claws at his chest. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but that doesn’t stop it from burning through him. He looks down at his drink, willing himself to focus on anything but you. But memories have a way of sneaking up on him, unbidden. The days spent at karting tracks, the shared dinners with your family, the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, talking about everything and nothing at all. Back then, it was easy. Natural. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, until you didn’t. 

Just then, you glance over, your eyes scanning the room before they land on him. For a moment, everything stills. The laughter fades from your face, replaced by something unreadable. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. His breath catches in his throat, and he curses himself for the way his chest tightens under your gaze. He watches as you excuse yourself, heading towards the restrooms, and he swears he has never gotten up so fast and walked so fast in his life. He doesn’t think, he just moves until he spots you in the hallway, queued behind some people waiting for the bathroom line. What kind of a club only has one bathroom? He thinks, but that’s not the point. 

He clears his throat. 

You turn, eyes widening in that familiar, guarded way. “Lewis.” Your lips open in shock as you glance behind him and then focus on him again, “Did- did you follow me here?”  

“Were you on a date with that guy?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself, his voice colder than he expects. 

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Excuse me?” 

He stands there, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but that doesn’t stop the irritation from creeping up his spine. His gaze flickers to the bar behind him, where the guy you were with is still talking to the bartender, oblivious to what’s going on. “I asked if you were on a date,” he repeats, a little sharper this time as he emphasises the last word. 

You raise an eyebrow, the surprise on your face melting into something more guarded, a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “What if I was?” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just out enjoying my night. Ever think of that?” 

He feels a rush of heat in his chest. “It’s not like I care,” he mutters, though it’s clear from the edge in his voice that he does. “Just curious.” 

You scoff, your lips curling into a sarcastic smile. “Sure, Lewis.” 

“So?” He inquires, “Are you? On a date with that guy, I mean.” 

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Are you serious right now?” you snap, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’re standing here, in the middle of a hallway, asking me about my love life? What is this, high school?” 

Lewis feels the heat rise in his neck, irritation mixing with a sense of frustration he doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not asking for your life story, just... just an answer. Is it that hard?” His voice is tight, but he doesn’t back down. 

You scoff again, your lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You really think you can just waltz back in and start demanding answers like we’re still... You know what? Yes, Lewis, I’m on a date.” You throw a glance over your shoulder at the guy still sitting at the bar. “We met on the beach at the hotel I’m staying at, and I thought I’d let him treat me to a dinner and a couple of drinks before I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday.” You roll your eyes at someone on the queue gasping at your choice of words. “Not that it’s any of your business. Are you happy now?” 

Lewis’s hand grips your wrist, a little too tight, and without warning, he’s tugging you away from the bar, his jaw clenched. “Come on,” he mutters, his tone low and urgent, as he steers you towards the back exit. You’re caught off guard, stumbling to keep up with his forceful pace, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“What the hell, Lewis? Let go of me!” you snap, yanking your arm free once you're outside in the chill night air. The chill hits you like a slap, the heat of the club’s atmosphere fading behind you as the door slams shut. 

“Seriously?” he spits, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’re gonna play it like that?” 

You take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what game you're playing at, but I’m not interested. What the hell was that back there? Dragging me out like I’m some kind of... of property?” 

He glares at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re unbelievable.” His voice rises, sharp and cutting. “I ask you a simple question, and you throw that crap at me? What the hell did you think I was supposed to do? Just stand there and pretend like I didn’t care?” 

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pretend like you don’t care? That’s rich coming from you. You don’t get to just waltz in, after all this time, and act like you can demand answers, Lewis. Like you have any right to know what’s going on in my life.” 

“Your brother would be so disappointed in you right now.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the air between you two freezes. The breeze picks up, but the sudden silence makes the world feel too loud.  

“You don’t get to talk about my brother,” you seethe, as Lewis's face hardens, his jaw tensing, but it’s the look in his eyes that hits hardest — it’s a mixture of hurt and fury, both so raw, you almost feel sorry for what you’ve just unleashed. 

“What did you just say?” His voice is low, almost dangerously so, the words slipping through clenched teeth. 

You swallow, but it doesn’t help the sharp edge in your voice. “You heard me. You don’t get to talk about him, you don’t get to fuck up my life and you don’t get to come back here acting like you still have any claim on me or my life.” You’re breathing heavily now, the anger and hurt mixing into a bitter cocktail that you can’t quite swallow – funnily enough, Lewis can smell the cocktail you had earlier. “You left. You made your choice, Lewis. And now you don’t get to barge back in and pretend like I owe you anything.” 

Lewis stands in front of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight as he processes your words. He doesn’t know when the two of you got closer together, he can practically feel the anger radiating off you, “You think I don’t know that?” he spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know what I did?” His voice cracks slightly, the vulnerability slipping out before he can stop it. “I fucked up, alright? I fucked up more than you’ll ever understand. We all did – me, Nico, you.” 

“You don’t get to make me feel guilty about this, Lewis. You don’t get to act like I’m the one who fucked everything up.” Your voice shakes, but you keep going, the words coming faster, more bitter. “You kissed me and called it an ‘accident’, a fluke. You fought with Nico every chance you got. I had to pick up the pieces on my own.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, but his anger doesn’t dissipate—if anything, it only sharpens. His hands remain balled into fists at his sides, but there’s something else behind his eyes now, something raw, something almost desperate. “We wouldn’t have worked out,” he mutters, it’s something that he said to himself time and time again to convince himself of it, “I am– was your brother’s friend, you–” 

“You were my friend, too!” You exclaim, your hands swatting at his arms, chest – anywhere you can reach. “You left me, as if I meant nothing to you! You stole my first kiss and shattered my life to pieces on the same day!” You manage to get in some good hits despite Lewis’ attempts to calm you down, and the lump in your throat makes it harder for you to continue talking, “Do you know how many times I wondered if you kissed me just to piss Nico off? Do you know how that feels?” 

“What?” He asks, his voice low. Each hit, each accusation, it stings. But nothing hits harder than the raw emotion in your eyes – hurt, betrayal, and the weight of everything he left behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. “You think I kissed you to get at Nico?” he says finally, his voice quieter now but no less intense. There’s an edge of disbelief, of hurt, as if the idea itself cuts deeper than your accusations. “Do you really think so little of me?” 

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, holding yourself together in the face of his raw honesty. “I don’t know what to think, Lewis. What was I supposed to think back then? You shut me out. You made me feel like it never happened – like I never happened.” 

“You were twenty-three years old,” he points out, “our age difference–” 

“Oh please,” you scoff, pushing at his chest one last time, “you’ve fucked girls younger than that.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, as if they’ve struck a nerve he didn’t even know was exposed. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t get to throw that in my face,” he finally says, his voice low and clipped, tinged with a kind of frustration that feels different from before. 

“Why?” You ask, head cocked to the side. “I can’t comment on you fucking other people, but you can question my actions because I want to fuck–” 

“Say ‘fuck’ one more time and I swear I’ll–” 

“—what, Lewis?” you snap, cutting him off before he can finish his threat. “You’ll what? Walk away again? Pretend this conversation never happened, just like you did last time?” 

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tightening as he tries to rein in his emotions. “Don’t push me,” he warns, his voice low and taut, but there’s no real menace in it—only desperation. 

“Oh, I’m pushing?” You laugh bitterly, throwing your hands up. “I’m the one pushing? You’re the one who showed up here, dredging up every memory I’ve spent years trying to bury. Don’t you dare put this on me, Lewis.” 

“You think this is easy for me?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did? For what I didn’t do? I’ve lived with this every single day, and you—” 

“Fuck you!” you shout, stepping closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck–” 

His hands shoot up, grabbing your wrists – not harshly, but firmly enough to stop your movements. You don’t even fully register how quickly he pushes you against the wall, “You think I ran off and lived some perfect life?” he hisses, his face inches from yours as he inhales deeply. “You think I didn’t miss you every goddamn day? You think I didn’t lie awake at night, wishing I’d had the guts to ask you to stay?” 

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the rawness in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. For a moment, the anger in his eyes softens, replaced by something else – something that feels far too close to the hope you’ve been trying to suppress. “Well... yeah.” You inwardly cringe how your voice sounds so weak, but Lewis tilts your chin back to make you look at him.  

“Is that so?” He mumbles, thumb caressing your chin as his eyes hungrily take in how your chest moves with each deep breath your inhale and exhale.  

Your breath hitches as his thumb lingers, his gaze dropping to your lips like he’s fighting every instinct to close the distance between you. “Lewis...” you start, but his name comes out softer than you intend, more of a plea than the warning you meant it to be. 

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a softness to it, an undercurrent of vulnerability that sends your heart racing. “What do you want me to do, huh? Walk away again? Because I can’t. Not this time.” 

You shake your head slightly, but his grip on your chin keeps you from fully looking away. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t even know how to feel about you anymore.” 

His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Then let me remind you,” he says, his voice a low rasp. 

Your pulse quickens, every nerve in your body screaming at you to push him away – or pull him closer and he tension between you is suffocating. “Don’t,” you whisper, but your voice wavers, betraying the battle waging inside you. 

“Don’t what?” he asks, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “Don’t do this?” You don’t answer, your throat too tight, your mind too clouded with memories, anger, and something else you’re not ready to name. He waits, his breath mingling with yours, his patience stretching thin. “Say the word,” he whispers, his voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will let you go back and take him back to your room and do whatever you want.” 

But you don’t say it. You can’t. Because as much as you hate him, as much as you want to scream at him, cry, and push him away... you also want this. Want him. 

And Lewis knows it. 

His hand releases your wrist, sliding down to your waist as his other hand stays on your chin, tilting your face toward him. The kiss that follows isn’t soft, isn’t sweet – it’s desperate, raw, and filled with years of unspoken words. It’s anger and longing, heartbreak, and desire, all crashing together in a way that steals your breath and sends your heart into overdrive. A softer kiss might have been what you wanted, but Lewis knows this is what you need. His body presses against yours, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders, clinging to him as if letting go would leave you falling apart. His lips are warm and insistent, the taste of him intoxicating. Every move, every touch, feels like he’s trying to make up for everything he never said, everything he left behind. 

The kiss deepens, each second unravelling more of the carefully constructed armour you’ve built around your heart. His fingers grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as everything else feels like it’s spinning. You can feel the heat radiating off him with every press of his body against yours. Your mind screams at you to stop, to think, to pull away before you lose yourself completely – but your body betrays you. The years of hurt, anger, and confusion dissolve into the fire burning between you, ignited by a kiss that’s as much a battle as it is a surrender. 

Lewis pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his lips still hovering close, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and rough when he finally speaks. “You still want to go back and fuck your little lover boy?”  

“Who?” You mumble, breathless as a result of the kiss as your eyes become heavy with something you can’t quite describe. 

Lewis smirks, a glint of triumph flashing in his dark eyes. "Exactly," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your waist in slow, deliberate circles. His confidence is maddening, but the heat between you makes it impossible to summon the indignation you’d usually feel. 

You try to muster a response, something sharp and cutting to put him back in his place, but the way his gaze drops to your lips again makes the words dissolve before they even form. “Don’t do that,” you manage, though your voice lacks the conviction you intended. 

“Do what?” he asks innocently, though the rasp in his tone betrays his intent. 

“Act like this changes everything.” 

His smirk falters, replaced by a seriousness that roots you in place. “It doesn’t change everything,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But it changes something. Doesn’t it?” 

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his words sink in. You hate how easily he disarms you, how effortlessly he pulls you back into his orbit no matter how much you’ve tried to escape it. But deep down, you know he’s right. “I hate you,” you whisper, though even you can hear the weakness in your words. 

“I know,” he replies, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “And I hate myself for making you feel that way.” 

The sincerity in his voice cuts through the haze, making your chest tighten. But before you can think about it, you find yourself tugging on the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pulling him closer to yourself as you mumble, “Kiss me again.” 

Your hands, which moments ago were pushing him away, now find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, as if to anchor yourself in the storm he’s unleashed within you. Lewis doesn’t hold back. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, the wall at your back the only thing keeping you steady. The kiss deepens, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that borders on desperation, as though he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. When the need for air becomes undeniable, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you are breathing heavily, the space between you charged with everything unsaid. “Tell me you didn’t feel that,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing against your cheek. 

You can’t answer right away, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest it drowns out any coherent thought. But eventually, you manage to find your voice. “I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no conviction behind the words. They sound hollow, even to your own ears. 

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, but the edge in your voice falters. 

“I’m not,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you... still here. Still looking at me like that.” His hand trails down to your hip, his touch light but grounding. “If you hated me, you would’ve walked away by now.” 

You close your eyes, willing yourself to regain some semblance of control, but it’s impossible with him standing this close, his presence overwhelming. “This doesn’t change anything,” you say, though it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him. 

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softer now. “But it’s a start.” You don’t say anything to agree or refute his statement, and after a brief pause, he straightens, fixies your dress and tries to fix your hair as well. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you back.” 

“But, my bag,” you mutter, pushing out your lower lip in a pout when you realise your bag is on the floor. Lewis has to restrain himself when he sees your lips all puffed up because of him. Your voice is whiny, and he realises you’re slurring your words a little bit when you tug on his shirt, “I don’t wanna leave my bag here.” 

Lewis looks at you for a moment, his expression softening as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin with the same tenderness he’s shown all night despite all your fighting. With a soft exhale, Lewis bends down to pick up your bag, holding it out to you with the same quiet care. “Don’t make that face,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but laced with something tender. “You really wanna go back to that room, after everything that just happened?” 

You look at him, a mix of confusion and desire swirling inside you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it. The words feel raw, vulnerable, but there’s something about his presence, the way he’s here, still so close, that makes you feel safe enough to say it. 

Lewis doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his eyes soften, his thumb grazing the strap of your bag as he watches you closely, as though he’s searching for something in your expression. Finally, he steps closer again, the space between you narrowing once more. “I get it,” he says quietly. “But I’m not letting you go home alone tonight.” 

The words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, to push him away, but there’s something in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you now, that makes you second-guess everything you thought you wanted. You hesitate for a moment longer, the weight of your thoughts heavy in the air, but the pull between you is undeniable. It’s the kind of pull that’s magnetic, that doesn’t let you escape even when you try to resist. 

Finally, you nod, the decision feeling both like a surrender and a choice you can’t take back. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “Take me back, then.” 

You don’t even remember getting into his car, but you do remember the smug look he shot at your date – Carl, you think – when he helped you through the club with a firm hand on your back. The villa Lewis rented for his little getaway is entirely what you expect it to be – modern, grand, and secluded enough so no one uninvited would know he is there and bother him. The couch in the living room looks way too inviting and you make a mental note to avoid it for now. Sitting on it might make this whole situation feel too real, too comfortable, and you’re not ready for that. You glance around the space instead, taking in the clean lines of the modern furniture, the polished wood floors, and the sprawling windows that offer an unobstructed view of the moonlit ocean. You walk towards the windows, eyes taking in the view from inside the villa. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faintly audible even through the glass, a gentle hum that seems to echo the turmoil in your chest. 

You wrap your arms around yourself, partly to steady your nerves and partly to shield yourself from the vulnerability creeping up on you. The view is breathtaking, but it does little to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You faintly hear Lewis calling out your name, but as if you are in a trance, you can’t take your eyes off the view in front of you. His voice calls out to you again, softer this time, closer. “Hey,” he says, and you feel the warmth of his presence before you even see him. Lewis’s reflection appears in the glass, his dark eyes fixed on you as he stands just behind you. 

You finally tear your gaze away from the ocean and turn to face him, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment. 

Lewis nods, his expression unreadable as he follows your gaze back to the window. “It is,” he agrees, but there’s a weight to his tone, as if he’s not just talking about the view. His eyes flicker back to you, searching your face. “But it doesn’t seem like it’s helping much.” 

You let out a shaky laugh, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It’s not that simple, Lewis.” 

“Nothing ever is,” he replies, stepping closer until there’s only a breath of space between you. “But I’m here. You don’t have to deal with whatever this is alone.” 

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. “I don’t know what to do with you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “With... us.” 

He exhales deeply, his hand lifting as though he wants to touch you but hesitates. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he says, his voice steady. “I just want to make sure you’re okay tonight. That’s all that matters to me.” 

Something about his words, his presence, eases the knot in your chest, if only slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” you murmur, more to yourself than him. 

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance. “Just be here. With me.” 

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of pretense or ulterior motives, but all you see is the same man who’s managed to undo you with a single glance. “Show me your room.”  

“We don’t have to do that.” His eyebrows furrow as he reaches for your cheek, “That not why I brought you here.” 

“Isn’t it?” You try to joke, but his deep sigh is a sign of his disapproval. “I know that’s not why you brought me here, but it can be one of the reasons you brought me here.” 

“Can it?” He drawls, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  

“For God’s sake, Lewis.” You sigh, turning your body towards the man standing next to you. “Do I need to beg you for you to fuck me?”  

Lewis’s smirk falters, his expression shifting into something deeper, darker, but undeniably tender. “Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with restraint as he steps closer. His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You don’t need to beg me for anything. Not now, not ever.” 

The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. “Then fuck me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with equal parts frustration and desire. “If you want me, show me.” 

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steadying himself, and when he opens them again, the resolve in his expression takes your breath away. “You think I don’t want you?” he asks, his tone low but firm. “You don’t know how hard it is to hold back, to stop myself from–” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if even admitting it is too much. He reaches for one of your hands, freeing from your hold and places it on his crotch. “See what you do to me?” 

The crude act manages to steal a gasp from you, your eyes widening at how hard he already is. “Lewis,” you mutter, he responds with an affirmative hum, “show me your bedroom.” 

He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and leads you down a sleek hallway. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished wood floor echoes softly, a counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. When he pushes open the door to his bedroom, you’re momentarily distracted by how much the space reflects him. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft, ethereal light. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft light.  

You walk towards the centre of the room, the corner of your lip trapped between your teeth as you glance at Lewis over your shoulder before you run towards the bed and throw yourself onto the soft bedding. Lewis watches you with an amused smirk as you sprawl across the bed, your carefree motion starkly contrasting the simmering tension in the air. “Comfortable, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrays his calm façade. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, giving him a challenging look. “Very.” Then you narrow your eyes at him, “But don’t call me baby, I am not your baby.” 

He chuckles, low and throaty, as he steps closer, loosening the top button of his shirt with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down your spine. “No?” he muses, stopping at the edge of the bed. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if committing you to memory. 

Your breath hitches when he leans over, placing a hand on either side of your body, effectively caging you in. His face is so close to yours now that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like seeing you like this,” he admits, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Relaxed, it suits you.” 

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand completely. Your fingers trail up his chest, over the defined planes of his torso, and then slide beneath the open collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you,” you reply, your voice soft but loaded with meaning. 

His response is immediate. His lips crash against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him. The kiss is raw and consuming, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into the connection. When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged, he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. 

You smile, your hands slipping down to the waistband of his pants. “Why don’t you show me?” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifts you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries you to the centre of the bed. He chuckles at the sound of your giggling, as he carefully lays you back down on the soft bed. His fingers work diligently to get you out of your dress, pulling the linen garment over your head as Lewis lets his eyes hungrily take you in. When your dress finally falls away, leaving you in nothing but lace and skin, Lewis takes a slow breath, his eyes scanning over your body with a mixture of awe and hunger. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch sending shivers of desire through your body. 

You arch slightly into his touch, your breath coming faster, and you meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes. “Are you going to just gawk at me, or are you going to actually do something?” 

He smirks, a flash of cockiness in his eyes. “Patience,” he teases, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his voice as he lowers himself over you. With one hand bracing himself above you, his other hand slides down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is slow, almost teasing, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his fingers inch closer to where you need him most. “You like this?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his lips just inches from yours. His fingers find the lace of your underwear, his touch deliberate as he pulls it aside and slips a finger inside you, making you gasp. “You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips crashing against yours as he deepens the kiss, his finger working inside you with a slow, steady rhythm. You can feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. 

“Don- don’t say ‘fuck’, Lewis,” you tease him with a small smirk as your breathing becomes deeper, “it’s unbecoming.” 

“You’ll see who will be coming in a few minutes, baby.” He chuckles at the way your expression changes at the mention of the word, his fingers moving in deeper as your let out a disapproving moan, “What? You don’t like it when I call you that?” 

With another dissenting hum and a raise of your hips to meet his hand, you let out a long exhale. “I’m not your baby Lewis, stop calling me that.” With the patience that only he can tolerate, he continues the leisurely movements of his fingers. “I want more, please.” 

Lewis tuts at your words softly, chuckling as he takes in your reactions. “I think you have a very important decision to make here,” he murmurs, his eyes suddenly painted with something more serious, “because once I fuck you, I’m not letting you go.”  

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” The words come out choppy as your breathing gets more erratic, his fingers stubbornly keeping to the slow rhythm he’s set.  

Lewis's gaze sharpens, the challenge in your tone sparking a flame in his dark eyes. “Oh, you’ll see it, alright,” he murmurs, his voice a velvety promise as his hand withdraws briefly, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you can protest, he moves with deliberate precision, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the expanse of his chest – sculpted, strong, and utterly captivating. “Get on your hands and knees.” 

The command leaves no room for debate, his voice firm but laden with heat. Your heart skips a beat as you meet his gaze, a mixture of defiance and curiosity flickering in your expression. “Bold of you to assume I'll listen,” you quip, though the slight tremor in your voice betrays your anticipation. 

Lewis smirks, leaning down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, you'll listen,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Because you know exactly how patient I can be, but the same can’t be said for you.” 

A shiver runs through you at his words, and before you realize it, you’ve complied, shifting onto your hands and knees in the centre of the bed. You can practically feel his gaze on you, then all of a sudden, you can actually feel him behind you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he moves closer. “Good girl,” he says softly, his voice rich with approval, and the way your body reacts to the praise is almost embarrassing. “Oh, my beautiful darling.” His hands skim over your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your hips. The grip is firm, possessive, sending a thrill through you.  

The sounds of him taking himself out of his trousers and pumping cock in his hand is pure debauchery, yet you find yourself pushing your hips back against his thighs. Lewis's low chuckle reverberates through you, a sound full of confidence and desire. His hand tightens on your hips, steadying you as he leans in, his chest brushing against your back. The heat of his skin against yours makes you arch into him instinctively, earning another throaty laugh from him. “You're eager,” he teases, his voice dark and dripping with amusement. “I like you like this.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the needy sound threatening to escape, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Maybe you're just slow,” you retort breathlessly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, a challenging look in your eyes. 

Lewis growls low in his throat, his hands sliding across your back. “Careful,” he warns, though there's a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Push me too far, and I won't be nice.” Your breath catches at his words, but before you can form a response, you feel him guiding himself to your entrance, teasingly dragging against you. The deliberate slowness makes your frustration peak, and you push your hips back, a wordless plea for him to stop teasing. 

“Patience, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. But even as he says it, he shifts forward, entering you with a deliberate motion that steals the breath from your lungs. 

The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight as he holds still for a moment, letting you adjust. “Lewis,” you breathe, your voice shaky with need.  

His hands gently caress over the skin of your back and hips, soothing over the sharp feeling of Lewis easing himself into you in small movements of his hips. “You’re doing so well,” he shushes your whiny moans, his hands tracing your sides, grounding you. “You feel perfect, we’re almost there, darling.”  

“A-almost?” Your voice cuts his words off, voice shaky with need, “It’s not going to fit, Lewis, I can’t-” 

He leans over you, his lips pressing tender kisses along your spine, each one sending a ripple of warmth through you. His voice is a soothing murmur in your ear. “Relax for me, darling. Let me take care of you.” Your breathing steadies under his touch, the initial sting giving way to a fullness that leaves you breathless as he pushes himself fully into you. You arch your back slightly, pressing into him as his hands continue their gentle exploration of your body. The tenderness in his actions contrasts with the raw desire in his voice, creating a heady mix that leaves you yearning for more. “That's it,” he praises, his tone soft but laced with heat. “You’re incredible. See? We made it fit.” 

“I feel so full.” You manage to let out, voice whiny as the moan is ripped from the back of your throat. “It feels so good, Lewis.” 

He begins to move, a slow, steady rhythm that builds gradually, allowing you to feel every inch of him. The friction ignites a fire within you, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips, each sound spurring him on. His grip on your hips tightens, his pace increasing as he finds the perfect rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice low and thick with desire. His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair as he pulls you back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine, you know that? Only mine.”  

The moan that comes from you is dissenting, causing Lewis to slide his hand down your throat to use the leverage to pull you up on your knees, pressed against his chest. “No,” you say, hands extending backwards to keep holding onto him in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he is fucking you now. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something primal within you. “Say it,” he commands, his voice rough as his movements grow more urgent. “Say you're mine.” 

Your breaths are shallow, punctuated by soft whimpers as you cling to him, trying to keep pace with his movements. The way he pulls you against him, his hand firm on your throat, sends a jolt of heat through your core. His hand is firm around your throat, but not uncomfortable to the point that you can’t breathe. 

“I’m not yours,” you gasp defiantly, your voice trembling with every move he makes.  

Lewis growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as his hand tightens slightly around your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place. “We’ll see about that,” he says darkly. 

His hips snap against you harder now, his rhythm relentless as if determined to prove you wrong. The overwhelming sensation leaves you gasping, your fingers clutching at his forearm for balance. His free hand slides down your body, gripping your waist to hold you steady as he drives deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. 

“Still not mine?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone is equal parts teasing and commanding, daring you to resist him. “Still think someone else can fuck you better than I can?” You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans spilling from you, but the way he moves, the way he claims you, has you crumbling. “Say it,” he repeats, his voice a low growl that echoes through your very core. 

Torn between defiance and surrender, you meet his challenge with a shaky breath. “I’m-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a particularly deep thrust that has you crying out his name instead. 

“Hmm?” Lewis chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying your struggle. His grip on your neck softens slightly as his fingers trace the column of your throat in a soothing gesture. “Come on, baby, just say it.” 

“I’m-” The word catches in your throat as he shifts slightly, the angle of his hips hitting a spot that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. A broken moan escapes your lips instead, and Lewis smirks against your ear, clearly revelling in your unravelling. 

“Say it,” he demands again, his voice low and demanding. His hand slides from your throat to your jaw, turning your face just enough that his lips can brush against the corner of your mouth. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the raw intensity of his movements, leaving you breathless. 

“I’m yours,” you finally gasp, the words tumbling out in a mix of desperation and surrender. 

Lewis freezes for a heartbeat, his chest heaving against your back as the admission settles between you. Then, with a triumphant growl, he resumes his pace, his grip on you tightening as if he intends to imprint himself into every fibber of your being. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His lips trail along your shoulder, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “Say it again.” 

“Yours,” you whisper, the word coming easier this time, though the weight of it still sends a shiver through you. 

His rhythm grows more urgent, his body moving with a single-minded purpose as he pushes you both toward the edge. “Never forget it,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, “now come for me.” You blame the singular cocktail you had three or so hours ago for your compliance to his words, as you feel the wave of pleasure crash over you, obliterating any coherent thought. Your body trembles uncontrollably in his arms, your cries of release echoing in the room as he whispers sweet words of praise in your ear.  

There are a million other things Lewis expects you to say, but you surprise him with a, “I wanna taste you.”  

Lewis's movements still, his breath catching at your unexpected words. He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with surprise and a flicker of intrigue. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement and undeniable heat. 

You nod, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze, but there’s a spark of confidence in your eyes. “I really do,” you say softly, the tremble in your voice betraying both your boldness and your eagerness. 

He studies you for a moment longer, his expression shifting to one of reverence laced with desire. "Well," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "who am I to deny you, darling?" With a gentleness that contrasts the fervour of moments ago, Lewis guides you to sit up, his hands warm and steady as they support you. He shifts to the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly, giving you room and letting you take control. His gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes glinting with anticipation. You settle between his thighs, your hands skimming over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles tense under your touch. There's a sense of power in the way his body responds to you, in the way his breathing hitches when your lips brush against him. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a small smile before leaning in. The moment your mouth closes around him, Lewis groans low in his throat, his head falling back as his control begins to slip. His hands find their way to your hair, his touch gentle but firm as he guides you, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just like that,” he praises, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re perfect, baby.” 

The sound of his voice, the way he says your name like it’s the only thing that matters, spurs you on, and you lose yourself in the moment, intent on unravelling him the way he did you. Your lips move with deliberate intent, your tongue tracing teasing paths that have him groaning your name like a prayer. His fingers tighten in your hair, a gentle tug that makes you glance up at him through your lashes. The sight of him – head tilted back, his lips parted as he struggles for breath, sends a thrill through you. 

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice ragged and filled with awe. His eyes find yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself. The sound he makes is primal, his control slipping further as his hips jerk involuntarily. He tries to hold himself back, but you can tell he’s close to losing himself completely. “Baby,” Lewis rasps, his voice thick with need, “you keep that up, and I won’t last.” You hum around him in response, the vibration pulling another groan from his lips. His hand slips from your hair to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender contrast to the raw passion between you. “Look at me,” he whispers, his tone almost pleading. 

You meet his gaze, and the connection between you feels electric. His chest heaves as his breaths come in quick, shallow bursts, his control hanging by a thread. “I’m so close,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “Do you want me to stop?” The shake of your head is all the answer he needs. With a curse under his breath, he lets go, his body shuddering as he gives himself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through him. He holds your gaze the entire time, his grip on you tightening as if anchoring himself to the moment. 

When he calms down, he collapses back against the bed, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. You sit back after swallowing, a triumphant smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him, utterly undone. “That was fun,” you rasp as you take in the sight in front of you. 

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound low and breathless, as he drapes an arm over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Fun?” he repeats, his voice laced with amusement and lingering satisfaction. He peeks at you from under his arm, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of adoration and disbelief. “You’ve got no idea what you just did to me.” 

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you crawl up the bed to lie beside him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you tease, your voice light but with a hint of pride. 

He turns toward you, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching out to trace lazy circles along your arm. “You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet filled with a reverence that makes your cheeks flush. “And I’m completely at your mercy.” 

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, as you nuzzle into his touch. “I think you like it that way,” you reply, your fingers grazing over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. 

“More than you know,” he admits, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple. The tender gesture contrasts with the raw intensity you’d just shared, and it sends a warm flutter through your chest. 

For a moment, silence falls between you, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets and the slowing rhythm of his breathing. Then Lewis shifts, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

The weight of his words settles over you, and you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his gaze. “Good,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

He smiles back, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he tightens his hold on you. “That’s all I get?” 

“We’ll see how you feel after we get home,” you mumble as you run a finger along the curve of his jaw, “you might be bored of me by then.” 

“Home,” Lewis muses quietly, breaking the silence and ignoring your words. His voice is softer now, contemplative. “I like the sound of that.” 

You glance up at him, his face so close that you can see the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression. It stirs something deep within you – a mix of tenderness and longing that takes you by surprise. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Me too.” 

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Lilia Vanrouge - Room Relaxation Voice Lines

It's a waste to sleep the night away! My special day starts now!

Summon: I got a birthday performance and a party to go to... Kheeheehee, tomorrow's sure going to be busy.

Groovification: I hate mornings... But there's so much fun things to do today. I can even appreciate the sun on a day like this!

Home: It's fever time!

Swap Looks: The morning sun's unforgiving today, as always...

Home Transition 1: This hairband is my absolute favorite, because it just increases my cuteness factor tenfold.

Home Transition 2: There's so much I want to do at night: play games, practice the bass, read, watch movies, and sometimes even study... Aaah, there's never enough time to do everything!

Home Transition 3: Birthdays are all about celebrating life and all the joys you receive from it. The date it's celebrated is not what's important.

Home Transition - Login: I get more into dressing up when it's for my birthday. It's no fun for anyone else if the birthday boy isn't looking his sharpest, after all!

Home Transition - Groovy: I got into a spirited conversation about the bass with Jade when he came over to give his thoughts on my birthday performance. I think he really knows his stuff!

Home Tap 1: Hoho! It's not often I spy Leona in the Mystery Shop all by his lonesome. Let's see, maybe I can wheedle a birthday gift out of him. Kheeheehee!

Home Tap 2: When I told him it was my birthday, Deuce practically shouted his birthday greetings to me. He did that even though I told him the same thing about three months back... Cute kid.

Home Tap 3: The eyeshadow Azul gave me looks to be a limited edition version of my favorite brand. Well, isn't he a sharp one.

Home Tap 4: I snagged these slippers from one of those online app crane games. You don't really see fluffy dragon feet like these just anywhere!

Home Tap 5: The string on my hoodie? ...Oh, you're right, the left side is a little too long. These things are a pain to fix once they completely slip out, y'know～!

Home Tap - Groovy: What's up, why're you grinning like that? ...I look cute in this getup? Heheh, well, that's because I'm a cutie, of course I look cute ♪

Duo: [LILIA]: Jade, this is how cute a real adult can be! [JADE]: You're almost too dazzling, Lilia-san.

Birthday Login Message: Thanks for coming to celebrate. I'm more than pleased to have you remember my birthday. The Pop Music Club is planning on having a birthday performance tonight. You'll be joining us too, right? I hear that Kalim is preparing an extra-large cake as a surprise. Cater was worried that it wouldn't be a surprise if he told me, but... Kheeheehee, I'm still happy about it. We'll sing and party, surrounded by all those close to me... It's this kind of birthday that makes me the luckiest guy in the world.

Requested by @kingren77.