#he will not be perceived elsewhere!

[thychesters]

#wipwednesday! more like well-this-sucks-for-zoro-day, but that's just about every day for him when i start writing again. (except for the maybe the one or two fics i wrote where he was having a pretty okay time?) without a lot of context i think this could verge a little on spoilery, but i'll let you all guess what's going on here! / text under the cut:

He descends from the crow’s nest with a little too much haste, almost tangles his foot in the rigging and sends himself ass over tea kettle to the deck below. Something Sanji would give him shit for if he saw it. The wind is gentle, the sea is calm, and a quickly tempered rage rises at them both as he reaches the bottom. Luffy meets him there, quiet, for once, watching him, and they level their gaze with one another. His gaze flicks from one eye to the one missing, down his torso, and then cocking his head just so as their eyes meet again, sharing a gaze like the prickle of ozone before a storm. Luffy looks at him and then Kuina blinks back, her head tilted and brow furrowed in the way it used to get when he bested another student but not her, never her. The air tinges with the scent of metal and polish, and her gaze nails him to the spot. He raises his chin and Luffy continues to stare at him. “We should go,” he says. Luffy tilts his head back with a crack, and somewhere in there Kuina’s snaps, and he says, “I think you’re a coward, Zoro; you should be better than this.” His tongue flicks out against his canine and Zoro want to rip it out of his mouth. Wants to crush his skull. Wants him to crush his. Luffy scratches his nose. “You’re pretty weak if you think about it, even with your cool swords.” He giggles a little. “You wouldn’t have those scars otherwise.” “Are you going to kill me?” Zoro asks. Luffy smiles. “Do you want me to?” “Do you think you can?”

[nenoname]

Details in Stan's letter that still haunt me

(how long will I continue thinking about a two page letter that's technically not even that long because Stan's handwriting is fricking large? .....you don't need to worry about that.)

The bro code only shows up in the Lost Journal pages, and to me Stan's message feels like it purposely echoes Ford's "miss you" in the college photo (and for some reason the message doesn't appear in the website version of the photo?) ....or alternatively Stan simply noticed how distressed Ford was about this entire thing and wanted to support him in a way so he can be sappy but without the kids knowing, or both!

Stan's claim about the Oregon lottery contradicts what the Lost Legends website said about Tate McGucket's ability to predict the winning numbers!! ...but also breaking into the Lottery HQ is definitely a very Stan thing to do and it's not the first time small gags have been retconned

Despite spending most of his letter nonchalantly destroying him, the taunt about ripping a dollar bill in half is the only part where Stan is directly responding to Bill. Maybe it's the two of them having similar ways of thinking but it's rather specific considering Bill taunts the reader about it...

And after Bill spends an entire book calling Ford Sixer despite normally using a pretty wide range of nicknames for him, Stan then spends his letter mainly referring to Ford as Sixer, even though post-Weirdmageddon he tends to use a mix of nicknames. And it's not like he'd gotten to see Bill himself for long, let alone see him steal that childhood nickname (that is only used twice in the actual show btw!). Did Ford tell him what happened or...?

With all this and the website's "still on your mind" message, what I'm getting at is my tinfoil hat theory of Stan somehow seeing some of the pages the irl readers saw, even when it should be personalised to the specific reader, and he's been lying about it for some reason. Considering that the book flat out doesn't make an attempt at convincing Soos, I find it a stretch that whatever Bill was telling Stan via the book was an attempt to convince him either.

Wouldn't be the first time Stan's skimmed through a book and lied about what it meant to him.

(...Now I kinda wanna see a story about the family reading their versions of the book and making fun of it while Stan is improvising every single one of his pages and blatantly ignoring Bill's attempts to mock and taunt him)

But also I'm fascinated by the letters that only showed up on the website (aka the Soos+Wendy+McGucket+Pacifica ones). I'm assuming that Mabel had stuck them on after Stan's letter... but they were basically eaten by the book itself because seeing Stan's letter kick-started Bill's breakdown which takes up the rest of the book

[happy10thousandyears]

Wait a second all my faves r trans women rn

[iocheaira]

on the verge of something here. spending a third of the year including sleep reading. moralization of literature. the way my dad seems to be getting more conservative before my eyes

[atimesfeeler]

Do you guys think that after the Deadpool movies end, and the curtain closes, and the camera is no longer on him- do you think Wade talks as much?

Do you think that maybe it feels like walking off a full stage to find yourself in your dressing room alone, staring at the mirror?

We always see him talking but he knows about us watching. He is acutely aware he has an audience. Do you think he knows when the audience is gone and the big unseeing eyeball shifts away to find entertainment elsewhere?

I’m not saying he’s normal when our backs are turned, or he’s not himself, but maybe the performance… turns off. Maybe it sorta takes Logan by surprise when Wade is quiet for the first time since he met him by his own violation, thinking about being perceived always, or existing in countless different versions of shows, comics, universes.

What do you think he does when he knows he’s not being watched? Maybe he does nothing different, but I imagine it would be hard to ignore.

He hit the camera in the D&W and grabbed the mic. He always knows where the fourth wall is. When there is no fanfic or movie or comic or show, do you think he sees the fourth wall anyway? Or is it kinda like seeing something in your peripheral?

I’m probably gonna write a fic about this all one day.

[katakaluptastrophy]

OK, so we've discussed Jod's apparent faux concern when Harrow comes to him desperately begging to be protected from G1deon:

"Harrowhark, when was the last time you slept?"

We later learn that he asked G1deon to "fix or put down Harrow". He thought putting her in desperate circumstances would somehow activate her Lyctoral powers.

It all feels particularly awful because elsewhere we've seen him imagine Harrow as his daughter: "You’d make a hell of a daughter, Harrowhark."

And yes, this is Jod's love of being perceived as a nice man and his tendency to make everything about him. But also...

They’d all expected me to go nuts. A— kept saying, Are you sleeping, are you okay, are you taking any Class As, you know you can tell me.

I wasn’t trying to be a dick. I think I hadn’t slept for two days.

I wasn’t operating on a lot of food or sleep.

I’d stopped sleeping and I wasn’t eating much, I was keeping my body going just by fiddling with the processes.

That last one is John 1:20. You know, the chapter where Jod finally unlocks the full potential of what he can do (with just a little help from a planet and 10 billion deaths) and becomes god?

Jod sees himself in Harrow. And he knows being hounded and sleep deprived was what worked for him.

[salix-babi]

Still Yours

[ Dan Heng x Reader | SFW | Masterlist | AO3 ]

Synopsis: Dan Heng reunites with the group at Scalegorge and seeks to sooth a tension that's developed between the two of you.

Notes: Had another version of this I wrote to completion then completely scrapped it because I was dissatisfied with the ending. Perfectionism is a burden I must overcome. Writing this just happens to coincide with the return of IL's banner but I'm lowkey hoping it blesses my pulls. I need him. If he comes home, I'll work on a nsfw part 2 so PLEASE. GIVE ME YOUR BLESSINGS.

cw: SFW, some suggestive themes in the latter half, gn!reader, lil angst, plenty of cuddles, reader is a tease, established relationship, reader can be perceived as TB, spoilers for Topclouded Towerthrust Trailblaze Mission.

Word Count: ~2.5k

The two of you hadn’t exchanged a single word since Dan Heng managed to reconnect with the departed expedition team on the Xianzhou Luofu. Not as he parted the oceans. Not as they traversed the ruins of the Scalegorge Waterscape. Not as they fought Phantylia’s vessel of Abundance. Every time his gaze landed on you, you were looking elsewhere. Occupied with murals or enemies that stood in your path. In all fairness, there wasn’t much breathing room with the destruction of the Luofu so close at hand but the absence of your gaze felt… empty. Like he was still apart from you even though you were only a few feet away from him at any given time.

There was only one moment as you traversed through the Scalegorge Waterscape that the two of you were alone. He had caught you by a vidyadhara egg, eyes seemingly transfixed by either its iridescent sheen or the individual within. A back part of his brain recognized these few seconds, however brief, as a window of opportunity to talk. But in the moment, he found his breath caught in his throat and his gaze intent on observing your reactions, instead. He watched your hand rise from your side, a gentle palm placed gingerly against the egg’s scaled outer shell. Your eyes flutter closed as you listened to the echoes of a past life slowly shedding away, expression contorted in a way he couldn’t quite identify. Not from the distance currently held between you. Was it… sadness? Melancholy? Relief? Did you grieve a life’s end or celebrate its rebirth? Or did you see one’s past and future united in a single entity.

“…”

He wanted to speak up then. To acknowledge the silent questions that lingered between you two. To quell his own growing anxieties. However, before he could even gather the words to broach such a topic, your gentle hand pulls away from the egg. Your attention bestowed not upon him, but March 7th calling your name in the distance. Apparently, you had lingered too long and Mr. Yang was advising against getting separated. It made sense. Dan Heng watches as your fingers retract from the egg, the flow of memories fading from your mind as you reconvene the group and once again you’ve wandered out of his reach. He can only follow silently, his gaze lingering on the egg for a fraction of a moment as everyone regroups.

There was a tension between the two of you, of that he was certain the both of you felt. Unknowns left unanswered, lingering uncertainty about where they stood with not a single moment where they could be soothed. He shouldn’t be surprised. In one crashing wave the entirety of the sins he had tried so hard to run from had engulfed him once again, and this time it’s caught his Express companions within it. The only thing he didn’t know was how much of Dan Feng’s crimes you’d really discovered.

It’s not until they were hurriedly leaving the Scalegorge Waterscape with an unconscious Xianzhou general in their arms that he noticed you pause again. As the others tended to Jing Yuan, there you stood at the base of the high elder’s statue, scrutinizing its stone features. Dan Heng, in turn, stared at you. So caught up in trying to decipher your expression that he nearly jumped out of his skin when your gaze turned to him for the first time in what felt like an eternity since his arrival. The vidyadhara stiffens, heart spiking to his throat. You seem equally shocked, but a sudden nervousness darts his eyes away from you in an instant, and he’s back to aiding the others. Somewhere in the commotion Mr. Yang suggests they return to the mainland to get the general proper care and the group moves obligingly, sweeping the two of you back into the residual excitement following Phantylia’s defeat and once again snuffing out any opportunities to talk.

It seems an eternity before you’re finally saying your goodbyes to the Luofu officials for the night. Jing Yuan was in the hands of trusted individuals of the Alchemy Commission and Fu Xuan gives you the barest skeleton of a debrief, the remaining group agreeing a more in-depth discussion can be reserved for the morning once all had at least had a chance to rest properly and the general’s condition has stabilized. Even so, Mr. Yang opts to remain a moment longer with the intention of discussing the nuances of their plan to handle the stellaron, and March had long ago left for her hotel room the moment everyone stepped back on the mainland, the usually peppy girl understandably. You had no doubt she’d be out like a light well into the following morning. However that, in turn, left you and Dan Heng alone to traverse the path back to your hotel. The starskiff ride was silent. The walk from the docks to the hotel, soundless. If you had something to say you weren’t saying it yet, and Dan Heng had no idea where to even begin.

It’s only as you’re reaching for the handle of your own assigned room that you free hand is suddenly snatched in the grip of another. The motion was so tempered in movement but desperate in speed, that it nearly drew a startled sound out of you. You turn to meet Dan Heng’s gaze for the first time since Scalegorge. His eyes are pleading, stirring with questions and uncertainties barely held behind stoic lips. “…” There’s a second of silence before you acquiesce, fingers retreat from your door, and Dan Heng nearly sighs with relief right then and there. Instead, you feel his grip loosen a fraction around your hand. His shoulders lose a bit of their stiffness, but he doesn’t let you go, and you allow him to silently lead you further down the hallway to his assigned room.

The silence between you persists.

Your eyes were trained on the back of his head, on the flow of dark hair down his back, and the teal tips of a set of semi-translucent horns. Idly, you wondered if you could touch them. Would he feel it if you did? Or would your fingers just pass through nothing at all. Even as the battle had ended, Dan Heng remained in this form for reasons yet known to you. You’re brought back from your thoughts to the telltale click of an unlocked door and with a gentle tug of your hand in his, he leads you inside, only letting go once you’ve stepped in to close the door behind you. Your eyes scan the room in the meantime. A standard unit no different from your own on the first night here, though considerably untouched. You wonder if Dan Heng has slept at all since arriving on the Luofu. No doubt he couldn’t walk around openly on the streets without drawing unwanted attention. The thought has a slight frown tugging at the corners of your lips.

There’s a bit of an awkward moment as Dan Heng tries to figure out how to broach the subject, something you recognize as a common habit from the poor man despite looking so different from how you remember him. So, you attempt to bridge the growing gap between you by making the first move. You settle on the edge of the bed, giving your best attempt at a reassuring smile despite the worried tick in your brows, and holding out an inviting hand. You’re grateful when he takes it, stiff as he moves to sit beside you, though you don’t draw attention to how he keeps holding your hand afterwards. “How… much,” he starts tentatively, keeping his eyes on your intertwined fingers rather than you, “did you learn about the previous High Elder?”

A long sigh leaves through your nose as you ponder the question. You wonder if you should relay everything. But looking over at the sullen expression already spread across a face you’re so familiar with, you understand there’s nothing you could say he didn’t already know. “It’s certainly a lot to wrap a head around,” you settle on. He winces anyways, but you press on gently. “A… vidyadhara, right? That’s what you are?” It’s stiff, the way Dan Heng nods in response. “When we first saw you today… you looked so different I almost didn’t recognize you.” Now it’s your turn to look away. “For a bit I thought…” You lean against his side and hug his arm close, “…maybe you weren’t there anymore.” Dan Heng aches with the trepidation in your tone, squeezing your hand tightly.

“…I know.”

“But you’re still Dan Heng, right?”

“I…”

He swallows the building pressure in his throat. “Yes. So long as you’ll have me, I want to be – I am Dan Heng.” He feels you shift beside him and this time, he turns to find you looking back at him with a scrutinizing stare. Eerily reminiscent of the way you had regarded the statue earlier. Nose scrunched and eyes slightly narrow. He’d find it cute under any other circumstance. “Hmm…” Your spine straightens for a better vantage point, slipping your hand from his to poke at his cheek and tug gently at the sleeves of his clothing. “May I…?” you ask, perhaps too politely to Dan Heng’s anxious mind, but he nods all the same and you take his permission to raise yourself higher on the bed and gently settle yourself in his lap. Your legs straddle his on either side like you would any day before this one, and you let yourself look at him – really look at him – for the first time in this new form. Your familiar weight on his thighs is already doing wonders in quelling his nerves a bit. He’s thankful for the firm pressure there to ground him, and without thinking, he’s moved to rest his hands on your waist as he usually would.

Dan Heng holds his breath under your scrutiny. He allows you to explore his more draconic form as you wish, using all his self-restraint to remain still as delicate fingers glide across his features. There’s a visible bob of his throat as digits rise from his neck and follow the curve of his jaw, brushing faintly across his lower lip before moving to press warm palms against his cheek. He wants more than anything to lean into your touch right now, nerves begging to feel more than just the trace of your touch against his lips after being apart for so long. But he’s frozen in place, more fearful that any sudden movements would scare you away. You’ve already been distant from him for far too long both physically and emotionally, and he doesn’t think he can stand you being so far for much longer.

You trace along the red marks lining his eyes, two now instead of the one mark you were used to. Your eyes catch his for a moment, finding piercing teal orbs staring back at you with an inherent intensity. Even unintentionally, his gaze demands your attention, longing and uncertainty swirling behind widened pupils. He was taking you in just as much as you were him, it would seem. So, your fingers continue their journey. Across his features, trailing up from his neck, along his jaw, and past his cheek until ghost-like fingertips reach the auricle of his ear. The quiet breath he sucks in is adorable, even more so the brief flash of teal in your peripheral signifying the movement of his tail. Soft fingers curl around the pointed tip of his ear to massage the cartilage gently between a thumb and forefinger, taking note of how his body stiffens a fraction. However, it’s only when he feels your touch travel upward to trail soft pads along his horns that he fails to hold back a small, shuddering gasp.

“Sensitive…?” you ask as if it were nothing at all and there’s a slight hesitance in the shake of Dan Heng’s head, red beginning to visibly dust his cheeks. “Just… unexpected,” he settles on. He couldn’t figure out what you were thinking. Were you aware of what your touch was doing to him? Did you approve of all these differences in his appearance you were exploring so thoroughly? Or did you find it strange? Distasteful? Briefly, he finds himself regretting not reverting back to his more familiar form the moment they had left Scalegorge. He hadn’t needed to call upon the powers of the Imbibitor Lunae once Phantylia was dealt with, but every time he had glanced your way in this form, you had been looking elsewhere.

“Still mad at me for leaving without a goodbye kiss?” Your voice pulls him back to the present, but it takes Dan Heng a moment to register your words. “W-what?” He blinks owlishly at you, half confused and half dumbfounded by the question. You smile impishly, arms coming to rest around his shoulders. “You always get grumpy when I leave without a kiss. So… are you?” The man frowns. You were teasing him. Dan Heng wants to get in your good graces. But… he couldn’t lie to you. On top of worrying about your wellbeing in the entirety of the week you’ve been apart, he’s also grown accustomed to spending his nights with you. Warm in the archives or out on a mission. He can understand a few days away, but to be without you for a week was… “I’m not mad, I just-…” His eyes flicker off to the ground beside you, hesitating as he finds his footing in his words. “I missed you.” Had he inherited the floppy ears of the Permanence along with those horns, you imagine they’d be sunken flat against the sides of his head with how saddened he looked in this moment. But then you giggle, and he suddenly perks right up in surprise.

“Then you’re still my Dan Heng,” you hum softly and the relief that immediately floods the vidyadhara has him melting into your arms. The chime of another laugh from you makes him question if you had done all of this simply to tease him, wound up as he was. He’d think it cruel but, in the moment, he’s wanted nothing more than to hear those words. “Yes,” he breathes, unthinkingly. Arms wrap tighter around your waist, wanting you closer, and Dan Heng finally gives in to his desires. His head tilts forward, closing what little distance was left to capture you in a kiss. Your lips were so soft, so perfect against his. Warm and gentle, the sensation all the sweeter having been without you for so long. Too long. You reciprocate with ease, a thumb stroking his cheek soothingly while your other hand slides down to rest at the side of his neck and he’s on cloud nine, sacrificing a hand of his own from your waist to reach for the back of your head and pull you closer.

“Yours.”

[awarmbowlofhomemadesoup]

Shang Qinghua is described as handsome. Someone already mentioned that he's an 8 surrounded by 9s and 10s. From my understanding, that's more handsome than a slice-of-life male lead but way, way below an ethereal beauty).

But what I want to discuss is that the way he perceives himself also deducts whatever handsomeness he has.

First, he doesn't take care of himself. As an unwanted child of divorce, he prioritizes pleasing others. He overworks himself in both lifetimes, which affects his health, even if he's already a cultivator.

Second, Shen Yuan describes Qinghua as handsome but has an air of sleaziness. Untrustworthiness is a turn-off, especially in the ideal world of cultivators. But in Qinghua's first life, he vented all his anger from his situation to his protagonist. And in the second life, the system puts him in a situation where he's destined to die. So I think Qinghua gives off "If life's not fair, then why play fair?" vibes because he cannot talk about it.

Third, even in his second life, he still feels like the unwanted child of divorce. Whatever life he had growing up in the second life must have reinforced his past beliefs: He's unwanted, he feels unwanted, so who would want him? And when someone gives off a certain kind of impression, people tend to believe them.

So yeah. Because Qinghua gives off "just some guy" energy, people tend to overlook him in the hot department because he puts most of his value elsewhere.

Also, is he really that short? Or is everyone around him just tall and graceful or tall and muscular?

[sluttysanemi]

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

GENYA SHINAZUGAWA

a/n: ok this is sort of clunky ‘n all over the place but whatevaa. indulge in genya bein’ the teenage boy he is:((

c/w: non-sexual nudity, brief description of injury.

You and Genya travel together through the barren woods, beneath the moonlit sky. The trees are twisted and gnarled, with branches resembling skeletal fingers. The air is dense with the aroma of moist earth and decay, contributing to the forest's ominous aura. 

The air periodically whistles about, among the distant chirping of crickets.

Upon concluding your session of patrol, you revert to your allocated, shared cabin. 

However, as consequence of your negligence within combat, a fresh, piercing wound emerged across your stomach, concealed beneath your palm. Blood seeps through your fingertips and coats your apparel in a rich crimson. 

You reflect serenely on your circumstance. You are reluctant, and perhaps humiliated to share your condition, but you consider it as the best approach. Overlooking the wound may result in infection. 

You spoke. 

“Sorry, I– bruised myself.”, you murmured. “Is there a river we could stop by? Jus’ to clean it.”

Genya seems troubled, frowning towards you. His eyes narrow as he evaluates your statement. 

“What? Yeah… we can. There’s a riverbank, just over there.” He countered, diverting their path to a nearby stream.

– 

As you drew near, the gurgle of running water broke the calm of the woodland.

Genya sits upon a smooth, broad stone near to the river's side.

You observe the crystal-like stream. The water rushes slowly across polished boulders, reflecting the moonlight in a vibrant array of colours.

Your fingers curl to your uniform, gradually lifting it upwards. You reveal the slender, freshly carved wound across your abdomen. Blood trickles along your flesh.

Genya averts his vision, appearing bashful and flustered as he observes the delicate skin of your abdomen. Attempting to preserve his composure. 

Eventually, he perceives the long, newly formed injury. He grimaces

“Shit…”, he cursed, his brows furrowing. “How’d you get that?”

You direct your glance to him, flushing faintly in shame. 

“...I sort of slacked. That’s all.”, You declared, attempting to explain yourself.

A brief pause.

“It’s… probably best if I undress.”, you began slowly. “Jus’ to let it clear beneath the stream. D’you mind if I?--”

Genya hesitates, biting his tongue. He senses his complexion reddening at the thought, but he encourages himself to remain composed.

“..yeah… sure… Go ahead," he grumbled quietly. 

Your back to him, you cautiously unclothe, discarding the blood-stained uniform from your body. As you let the fabric fall to the ground, an easing sense of relief pours over you.

 You steadily descend beneath the water, the scrape gradually clearing within the stream. The water envelopes you in its dark grasp. 

Genya glances elsewhere awkwardly, attempting to preserve a stern demeanour. His body stiffens as numerous beads of sweat fall along the surface of his skin. His breath caught in his throat.

“Is… the water cold?”, he asks hestitantly, swallowing dryly. 

You cast a glimpse at him, over your shoulder. “Slightly, but it is bearable.”, you reply quietly. “Almost soothing.”

You contemplate a proposal whilst listening to the night's critters. You remarked once more.

“Maybe you’d… like to join me?”, You inquired, peering intently towards him. 

He blinks, his cheeks developing an ominous red. His fingers twitch faintly. 

“...Are– Are you sure?”, He struggles with his speech. He lingers before swallowing, beginning to undress. He folds his uniform and lays it upon a nearby rock. A crisp breeze glides against his exposed skin.

“There’s a small bottle of disinfectant in the pocket of my uniform.”, you briskly recall. “I had bought it just in case. Could you bring it with you?”  , 

“...Yeah,” He responded gently, stepping over to your clothing and retrieving a miniature glass bottle from the pocket.

He approaches you, seating near the shore of the river. The container is in his hand. He glances at you, somewhat hesitant and shy. 

You peer between the glass and his expression. Your cheeks flushed once more. 

“You… wouldn’t mind…”, you whisper, attempting to gather your sentence. “It’s just– if I do it, i’ll be too gentle with myself, ‘n won’t clear it properly.”

His cheeks heat with your query, and the notion of his hands contacting your flesh... His mind is conflicted, yearning to sustain his calm. 

“Y–Yeah… I can do it…”, He responds, seizing the bottle and unscrewing its lid. 

You situate yourself on the river's ledge, exhibiting your wound. The expanse of water below mirrors the moon's fragile light, creating an atmosphere of tranquilly. 

Your fingers tread and trail through the greenery as you observe the firebugs dancing inelegantly. The flickering insects illuminate the gloom, culminating in a captivating show of lucency and movement. The crickets croak idly. 

Genya's gaze is fixed on the wound, staring to it. He raises up the container and spills a small bit of the transparent liquid over his fingertips. The fluid feels frigid on his skin. 

He slowly draws closer to you, shuddering slightly as a cold runs up his spine.

“..This might sting,"  he announced gently. He lays his hand upon your stomach, meticulously caressing and examining the injury. His touch is assertive, his demeanour attentive.

Exhale a hefty, pained breath through your lips, attempting to attain a sense of serenity.

 Your hand skimmed along his bicep. A pleasant warmth brushes against your fingertips.

He feels your touch to his arm, and he promptly peers to your visage, his expression beaming scarlet. Your proximity ignited a surge of emotions in him.   

He’s swift to shift his focus back to the wound, ignoring the sensation of her grasp upon his body. The warmth of your contact lingered on his flesh. 

“Sorry,” He murmurs, as he pours an additional portion of the disinfectant, carefully cleaning the incision. The fragrance of antiseptic permeates the space, merging with the metallic tinge of blood.

Your fingertips trace easing patterns on his back in a bid to divert your focus.

“...’S alright. Thanks for doin’ this.”, you spoke tenderly. 

He bites into his tongue once more, an almost strangled sound emerges from his lips. He tries to retain his poise, but your fingers sketching soft lines upon his body's surface renders it strenuous. His breathing quickens, his chest rising and sinking, putting out a considerable lot of effort to ignore your touch. 

“...Yeah.”, he replied lowly, his voice almost strained. 

Your fingertips continue to trace the crevices of his muscles, brushing his scars. You feel the coarse texture of his skin beneath your fingertips, your expression compassionate.

Genya shudders as your hands skim the ridges  on his skin. He attempts to breathe steadily, but he can feel his composure sliding with each stroke of your fingers. His face is flushed with a deep scarlet, and his eyes are adhered to your open flesh, willfully avoiding your glance.

 He finishes cleansing the wound, gently puncturing the region surrounding the injury. His expression almost relieved. 

Your thumbs glide to his hair, caressing the dark curls. The delicate strands flow through your fingers, and you can feel the warmth of his temple beneath your touch.

“...’S it lookin’ okay?”, You enquire, your chest heaving. 

Genya's gaze flickers to you momentarily before reverting to the body of water.

“Yeah… it’s lookin’ alright.”, he replied, his tone breathier. He took a deep breath, wiping sweat from his brow.

“You got a bandage then? Don’ wanna ruin your work.”, you continued. Your hands lay idly on your lap. 

He nods, reaching over to his pile of garments. “..Yeah, I’ve got one.”, he says, rummaging through his uniform, before retrieving  an unopened roll of fabric bandages. 

You observe quietly, grateful for his attentive care. His presence exudes an appeasing warmth, his mannerisms unusually delicate.

Your gaze trailing to the crystalline ripples of the stream, savouring the serenity of the sight. The calm murmuring of the river soothes every sense.

Genya returns to you, unravelling the roll of gauze and gently encasing it around the wound. His fingers work carefully, taking care not to overtighten the fabric while still ensuring that it stays in place. His knuckles periodically brush against your skin, and his breathing is slow and deliberate, his heart thundering in his chest. The tension between them is apparent, an unspoken connection humming beneath the surface.

As he laboured, you renewed your focus on the numerous scars that adorned his body. The jagged lines and faded marks stood in sharp contrast to the compassion with which he now cared for your wound, exhibiting an element of tenderness that he rarely exhibited.

“..You’re too rough on yourself, y’know. You’ve got too many scars.”, you remarked, sympathetically. 

He pauses for awhile following your comment, his gaze flickering up to your face. He exhales dryly as he continues to carefully wrap the bandage around the wound, his fingers working slower than before. The vicinity is filled with strained silence, punctuated by the erratic sound of fabric being pulled taut.

"..I'm fine.." is all he can say, his voice subdued and raspy.

You pause, observing him keenly. You grasp his hand and trace the scuffed skin. 

“You promise?”, you persisted. 

His breath jerks, your delicate touch renders it onerous to express himself clearly.

 He swallows dryly and nods slightly, his cheeks flushing as he struggles to regulate his heartbeat, which is striking against his chest. He attempts to gather his words.

“Yeah… yeah, I promise…” He replies, his voice slightly hoarse.

You nod, acknowledging his words. “Okay.”, you whispered, glaring to his flustered expression.

As he concludes wrapping his bandage over your injuries, a sense of serenity emerges. Under the silvery sky, you appreciate the beauty of the present. The subtle rustling of foliage and distant chirping of crickets create an oasis of peace, allowing you to temporarily forget about the discomfort. 

“...Genya?”

His gaze meets yours. He nods subtly, as he listens intently. 

“...I meant what I said. This meant a lot to me.”, you said truthfully.

Genya pauses, his breath caught in his throat. His face rose a deeper shade of red, his entire body trembled and tensed. He briefly looks to you before hurriedly glancing aside and murmuring a response.

“...Y-Yeah..”, he chokes out, before clearing his throat. “...I-I’m glad I could help…”

[circeyoru]

Maker of His Eyes = Requested

The Request

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Hunter Gear Maker!Reader]

The moment things like gates, dungeons, and mana appeared, everyday people evolved to what people will now call as ‘Hunters’. From then point on, control over these powerful individuals were needed, so then came the ‘Hunter Association’ appeared, soon there were ‘Guilds’ and more other terms that people have long grown accustom to. 

What makes a Hunter? Their rank? Their class? Their power? Their wealth? Their fame? Themselves? The answer is all of the above. However, they were like unpolished stones. They—regardless of their rank—still require a safety net of sorts. Being in the Hunter business is no joke. Perhaps in the beginning, most could just punch monsters with their bare hands and throw random objects at monsters to complete the job, now when these things would return from time to time.

Protection was needed, not only that, but also equipment. Like how a firefighter would gear full gear before rushing into fire or a surgeon would don in protective suits, Hunters needed something similar. Such creations were requested and given to the brave Hunters, albeit not as effective, it was something. 

Soon came the emergence of Crafter—either an Artisan or Blacksmith—that changed the playing field.

“Who’s request are you doing now, Apprentice?” Your master, Warwick, questioned as he put away his tools on the rack nailed into the wall of the workshop. “Don’t tell me it’s for that E-Rank again. Your talents are better placed elsewhere.”

“I’ve done all the requests I got and preparations for some of yours, Sir.” You shouted over the continuous working, you paused and craned your head to eye your teacher in the art of weapon making for Hunters. “You can cut my salary if that’s what you want. I’m still making this.”

Warwick sighed and scratched the back of his head, groaning as he spoke like the grumpy man he is. “That’s not what I meant. If you’re this soft hearted, people will just take advantage of your kindness. You’re a well sought out Crafter, heck, it’s never rarer for a ‘Creator’ to be found.”

You rolled your eyes at the title again. When you awakened, you felt nothing different, but you were more perceive when it came to news and concepts about the newly emergence of Gates, the things inside, and Hunters. Nevertheless, you were evaluated. When your result came back as <Unknown>, you were sent to another room, it was there that you were tested to be an Artisan and a Blacksmith after knowing you were a Crafter. Because of your rarity, you were taken in by the Hunter Association for protection. 

Unlike an S-Rank Hunter, you were an ordinary citizen when outside on the streets or in a dungeon. You couldn’t defend yourself and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, your friend was unable to protect you as well. You honed your skills and craftsmanship, your teacher/master Warwick taking full responsibility as the best Weapon and Armour maker in Korea.

Soon, he was outmatched by your raw talent and many started to request your creations. With your wide range of work, you were later dubbed ‘Creator’, a class that set you apart from the others that where separated into Artisan or Blacksmith. Artisans craft artifacts like gears ranging from armour to jewelery, and Blacksmiths craft weapons, what the two have in common is that both could invent and create items that make use of the new elements found in dungeons.

You, however, could do all and more. While at random, you grant effects to your creations and sometimes controllable by the request given. Not only that, but you could identify the useful spoils from bad. Even going as far as to have a unique design in your head and start working. Such was your power and talent.

Now you mentioned about a friend of yours. He was a Hunter and had awakened earlier than you have, but as an E-Rank, later gaining the title that labelled him as the lowest of low. You heard whispers of association members that your friend’s mana level was worse than that of the Artisans or Blacksmith. You would bite the inside of your lower lip and leave.

Sung Jinwoo. E-Rank. The Weakest Hunter of All Mankind.

It was that one that when your friend was visiting your workshop and delivering some food for you that you snapped. It happened too abruptly. There was a Blacksmith newbie that was assigned to be watched by you and supervised by Warwick, mainly you, but the newbie loved following you around. That newbie was berating Jinwoo when you left the room momentarily, however, you returned earlier than expected and had the newbie fired by your authority. You even staked your job at the association. So of course, your request was fulfilled.

Somehow though, you managed to have missed that dark and obsessed look in his eyes in that moment you protected him. Good for him, but… Well, ignorant is bliss.

From then on, you had Jinwoo use anything of your creation to show that he was protected.

It was a day like any other, Jinwoo got up and ready for work as a Hunter. He arrived at the site, faking ignorant from the whispers and gossips of the Hunters around him when he made his appearance. He’ll admit, he was weak but there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t even afford to quit because he needed money to support his family.

Then there was you. A Hunter—he mistakenly thought—dressed too causal for a raid, you were also idly standing by and maybe observing? He made his way over to exchange greeting with you. “Hi, I’m Sung Jinwoo, E-Rank. You should change into some protective gear or bring a weapon before heading into the Gate.”

You raised a brow at him and chuckled as if you understood a joke. “Oh, no no. I’m not a Hunter. I’m just observing what Hunters use as gears and stuff. Thanks for worrying though.”

Jinwoo noticed that you seemed to have avoided the whole topic of him being an E-Rank, like you didn’t register his rank but only picked up that he was a Hunter. He found himself sheepishly laughing along, “Haha, sorry, I thought you’re a Hunter because people need authorization to be in here.”

“Oh.” Your head jerked a bit and you looked back to where a safety line was visible. You turned back to Jinwoo and spoke a bit softer. “I think I might have crossed the line… In a literal sense.” You clapped your hands and your head bowed as like a prayer. “Please don’t tell anyone or report me.” Your head raised and you stared at him in the eye, “How about this? I’ll treat you after your raid’s done. I’ll be here waiting.”

Under normal circumstances, he would refuse and decline it. Truthfully, he wouldn’t even tell anyone on you since he knew no one would care for the word of an E-Rank. Yet, he nodded with a smile, “I’ll hold you to that.”

You smiled back at him. A sight that made his heart flutter and beat faster than danger. 

Never had he looked forward to the end of a raid because of someone other than his family was waiting for him. There was you today. When the raid declared clear and the team went back to the entrance, he stayed at the back and swiftly left to where you’d be waiting. He was a bit disappointed when you were nowhere in sight, but when he walked further away from the site and pass the safety line…

You jumped on him with a scare and shocked the daylights out of him. Luckily, he wasn’t hurt much this time. You laughed for a solid minute before you wiped away your tears and smiled softly at him, “Job well done on a successful raid.”

He didn’t bring himself to say his teammates did most of the work while he was at the back doing nothing to help. He just smiled along and thanked you, getting up and asked where you’d take him. He remembered your smooth hands that grabbed his rough one as you dragged him away from his Hunter work to the pleasures he would have enjoyed. A moment in his trying times that he could relax and smile carefreely.

So started a friendship he slowly grow and twisted.

Any form of attention you give him, he ate it up like a starving stray. From time to time, you’d ask him about where he’d be raiding at and he would give you a location. You told him you purposefully target the lower ranked Gates without claim to a guild so you would be able to observe easily since security was more laxed. 

A day he drended and prayed to never come happened sooner than he’d like. He was carried out by his teammates, the healers that joined the raid that time wasn’t as skilled. Wounds all over him and he was losing blood, not to mention consciousness. You, like every other time, were standing at the site waiting for him. His blurry sight caught your panicked look and rush to him, he heard your cries and gave you a soft smile to reassure you. 

While he was laid on a stretcher, you ran off to where the loot was and grabbed a few items. The Hunters and workers around you didn’t interrupt you as they obviously saw the glowing aura around your form. When you returned, you pulled along the healer and tied what you gotten on them in some way and ordered for them to heal him again. The familiar glow surrounded him and he felt light and his body relaxed from stiffness.

Before his eyes closed and his consciousness faded, he just knew you were being pushed to be evaluated for your deeds while you tried to get to him. To be by his side instead of theirs. 

How troublesome.

Note: A bit short and dull for my liking, but hope you guys like this.

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

[maudeeloise]

God i need a part two of Sworn Enemies

The reader tells the whole situation to rhaenyra who is very disappointed that her son denies his own child because of an absurd rumor.

The reader wants her to dissolve the marriage but rhaenyra tells her to make jace beg for the reader's forgiveness and jace does anything for the reader's forgiveness.

I want the reader to be a complete girlboss 💋☝️

Pleas of Pardon || j.v

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning : none

A/N : soooo… i changed some parts a bit, but the plot is still the same. this is the second part of this

You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen Jace — not that you were protesting, but a small part of you hoped for him to at least apologize before completely disappearing.

When your family first arranged you to marry Jace, you were left with no choice but to accept. The only hope left in you was for him to spare a chance for the marriage to work, even though you knew it was far too impossible to happen. That hope instantly vanished the same night he departed.

Not a single soul in the kingdom knew where he had gone. You were too ashamed to ask so the best you could do was to eavesdrop the whispers of the servants when you had your morning and evening walks around the castle. It wasn’t your fault, but you couldn’t help but to feel disappointed of yourself.

I failed, you thought to yourself as you pictured how your parents would perceive you once they heard about the rocky marriage you had with Jace.

“Where had the smile I used to know gone?” Rhaenyra asked as she came to sit next to you one afternoon at the staircase. Her eyes were filled with pity. Her smile was small. “I have missed the joyful lady who loved to retelling our people’s myths.”

You shook your head, looking down at your hands as you played with your fingers. “There’s nothing for you to be concerned about. I’m alright.”

“The whole kingdom has heared, don’t you think I haven’t?” Rhaenyra hinted a sad smile.

You shook your head, still avoiding any eye contact with your husband’s mother. “Am I a bad wife?”

Rhaenyra smile instantly fell at your words. “What do you mean? Have you done something?”

“Not that I could remember.” Your vision became blurry as the tears formed in your eyes. “I’ve tried to fix our relationship, but it’s difficult when we both know we loathed each other. I’m sure you’re familiar with that too.”

“The marriage has been done—“

“I figured that it’s best for the marriage to be dissolved.” You looked up to Rhaenyra. Your teary eyes met her surprised ones. “For the sake of ourselves. I’ll leave the land if it is needed, but I’m asking for you to let me raise the baby.”

Rhaenyra’s mouth was agape. She blinked a few times as she processed your request. “I-.” Her gaze moved elsewhere. “I’ll talk to Jace.”

“And the marriage?”

An answer you longed to hear never came as Rhaenyra stood up and left you sitting on the staircase perplexed.

Her name was stuck on the back of your throat. You wanted to call her and made her stop on her track. But instead you let out a sigh in defeat. Your body leaned against the wall weakly. Your hoping eyes stayed at Rhaenyra’s figure as she slowly disappeared behind the walls.

Lost. A word which best described your state. You were so used to having your sister by your side, supporting your needs and guaranteed you the happinnes you deserved. Then when you were on your own, you could only pray to the Gods, hoping for everything to go well, but instead it went the opposite.

Your arms hugged yourself tightly as your body balled against the wall beside you. A symbol of fear and loneliness.

Tears were threatening to fall as your breathing quickened. Your mind rushed with voices, mostly telling yourself how you couldn’t do a simple job and how you should’ve lower your ego.

You held your legs tighter to your chest as you silently sob. The sound of your soft cries echoed through the empty staircase and hallway. You couldn’t careless, you just needed someone.

The voice on your head kept screaming in your head until it hit you. You were on your own. You had no one, but yourself and your infant needed you.

Slowly, you unwrapped your arms from yourself. Your legs stretched out carefully before bringing yourself on your feet. Your fingers grazed across the stone surface of the wall as you walked towards your chambers.

You needed to leave. You needed to run away. You needed to safe yourself for the sake of you and the baby.

You jogged around the room as you collected all the little things that you felt like you needed. All the items were shoved inside her pocket bag.

“What am I missing?” You mumbled to yourself.

Your eyes scanned around the room to bring yourself the answer you needed. They landed on the wine bottle which was standing on your nightstand. A lazy smile danced on your lips before you brought yourself towards the object.

Just as you were about to get your hand on the bottle, the door to your chamber cracked open. Your head spun towards the source of the sound. Your eyes stared in horror at the thought of getting caught in the act. A long shadow of someone walking in to the room made your heart skipped a beat then it stopped when your eyes met his.

Your body froze on it’s place. A look of horror masked your future, but you slowly calmed once you studied his face. His sad eyes and almost pouted lips made you barely recognize the man standing on the other side of the room.

“Jace.” You breathed out.

“Y/N.” He called under his breath.

There was a long pause, each waited for the other to continue, but neither said anything.

Jace knew he was wrong, despite how much he hated you. A small part of him kept telling him to talk to you after that night, but he had to big of an ego, so he chose to avoid you instead of apologizing.

What he didn’t expect was for his mother who loved him dearly to side with her. At that point he knew he had to talk to you. He had to admit that he was wrong. He had to apologize and maybe more or anything else to get you to forgive him.

“I-“ Jace cleared his throat, slightly avoiding your eyes. “What are you doing?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Anger slowly increased inside you as you feel your heart clenched. Is he bluffing?

“Nothing.” You kept your voice low, trying to control yourself from bursting out at him.

Jace awkwardly nodded before moving his gaze anywhere else but you. He suddenly found the chamber interesting whilst he studied the room.

Something didn’t feel right, he thought.

His eyes saw the small pocket bag on the couch, the cloak on the bed, and how your body kneeled too close to the bottle on the nightstand.

“Are you planning to leave?” Jace asked, his voice was laced with a hint of dejection.

You almost gave in. Almost. The way his face fell and his lips turned down into a frown. How his eyes showed longing and regret. You almost changed your mind.

You inverted your gaze from him slightly and fixed your posture. As you turned to face him, you forced yourself to show no emotion. He needed to know he deserved it.

“And what if I am?” You challenged him.

“You’re taking our baby with you!?” The frequency of his voice hightened, making the sentence sounded more like an accusation than a question.

“That’s not fair.” You whispered. “You accused me of cheating and held to your beliefs that the baby isn’t yours! How dare you include yourself on deciding whether the baby should be with me or not?”

Jace opened and closed his mouth, stopping himself from taking the argument further. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

“My apologies.” You raised an eyebrow. “I shouldn’t have accused you despite how much I hated you. I was too blinded with my emotions and I forgot that you have feelings too. I deserve every second of your loath for the rest of my life, but I’m begging for you to stay. Please, don’t leave. Please don’t take the baby away from me. I’ll do anything, I promise!”

There was a long pause. You looked down at your hands as an excuse to dismiss him from your view. You didn’t say anything, as if you were waiting for him to say more.

“Please say something.” Jace took a step towards you hesitantly.

“I need a moment.” You said shortly without bothering to give him a glance. You stood up and walked past him, leaving your shared chambers.

———————————————————————————

@semisutopia @anehkael @kaiawolf @maddie-jayne @shadowmoonlight0604 @aemondwhoresworld @cedigz

[illyrianbitch]

Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Summary: After abandoning the refuge of Velaris, you, Morrigan’s twin sister, returned to the forsaken Hewn City fueled by a vision for a better future. Now, your estranged family seeks your help when rumors of rebellion spread at a time of utmost inconvenience. Torn between your anger and a desire to protect the good, you begrudgingly agree and are forced to face memories of a past life and the unsettling presence of Azriel– the first man you ever loved.

Warnings: ANGST, Helion being compassionate and its sexy, Inner Circle slander (sorry feyre baby), Y/N is kind of a bitch (but its warranted and a slay), family trauma.

Word Count: 2.9k

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It was Helion, the High Lord of Day, who had seen the flicker of hope in your eyes. A man of discerning wisdom, he recognized your yearnings of a better world. He knew you, he knew your heart, and he trusted your vision— with the promise of your support shall he need it. You knew that your support, in the grand scheme of things, meant nothing to Helion. He had always held a heart of gold, of understanding, and he would have helped you without anything in return. But you had insisted, declared that you needed to give him something to thank him. Your support, he had agreed on. It was all you had left, anyway. 

Now, you stood before him, pleading. Your chest was tight and a calm panic filled your veins. You needed to act. You needed to keep things in place.

"Helion, please," your voice, normally composed, now carried a tremor, a plea that hung in the air, reeking of desperation. Low light poured through stained glass windows as the sun slowly set, painting a kaleidoscope of muted colors on the marble floors.

His eyes, usually filled with warmth, held a regretful sympathy. 

"Y/N, I wish I could," He replied, his voice caressing the air,  "But with the current state of affairs and your father’s growing paranoia, it's too risky. I can't jeopardize my people. My help is needed elsewhere."

Approaching you, he extended a large hand, gently cupping your chin, his touch reassuring and pained. "Give me some time, sweetheart."

Desperation deepened in your eyes, and the intensity of your plea swelled. Aching with fear and worry, your gaze remained locked on his. "I don’t have time. Hewn City corrupts swiftly. You know this.”

Helion sighed, a sound filled with a blend of both compassion and helplessness. "Perhaps you should reach out to Rhysand. His influence might help, now more than ever."

Yor felt a bitterness surface, like bile rising through your throat. A soft scoff left your mouth as you roughly pulled Helion’s hand away from your chin, withdrawing from his touch in offense. "Rhys had a chance to help. He didn’t. He couldn’t care less. I won’t go crawling to him."

Helion's gaze softened, a tender response to your rough tone. He let out a sigh and pulled you close to him once more. His touch sent a wave of comfort through you, something that happened often when you visited him to discuss these things. Helion was a man who loved physical connection— you didn’t mind it. It made you feel seen, understood. Now, you craved that feeling more than ever.

 "I don’t understand this contempt you hold. Surely they will want to help you. They miss you."

You rolled your eyes at this. Of course Helion would think so. As much as you trusted him and his admiration for you, he always did love your family. Your sister and your cousin would always be in your life, tied to you in one way or another. Frustration tinged your voice. 

"It's too late. Going to Rhysand now would draw unwanted attention or, worse, he’d halt my efforts because of some perceived danger."

There was a moment of silence, and your eyes bounced around the room, searching for somewhere to land that wasn’t Helion's burning gaze. Once more, he moved a hand to gently cradle your face.

"You cannot foresee every outcome. You're not a mind reader, Y/N."

A bitter laugh escaped you, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "I might as well be when it comes to family."

 "You've accomplished so much. Allow yourself a reprieve. You can't bear the weight of the innocents lives in Hewn City alone."

You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes as you admitted, "I can't afford to stop. If I do, they'll think I've given up." 

"No," Helion asserted, his voice unwavering. "Your dedication is commendable, but you need to care for yourself. Let me help you."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at him, his brows furrowed slightly and a sad smile on his face. He moved his hand once more, gently tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. Then, he ran a finger along it, a soft caress carried by a weight of understanding. You shuddered at the lightness of his touch. 

 "Stay, Y/N,” He suggested, his voice smooth and low, “Let me be a distraction. You take care of others; let someone take care of you."

You leaned slightly into his caress, feeling the warmth radiating from his hand. A fleeting sense of comfort teased at the edges of your weary soul. Yet, reality swiftly reasserted its grasp, and you gently withdrew, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

"I appreciate the offer," you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. Your hand delicately intercepted his, guiding it away from your cheek. "But I can't afford the luxury of distraction right now."

He acknowledged your decision with a small nod. 

“I wish I could do more for you."

A tender smile found its way to your lips and you held his gaze for a fleeting moment of gratitude.

“I know.” You replied before you winnowed away, leaving the luminous embrace of the Day Court behind.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You were on edge. You had been for the last few weeks. Now, after failing to convince Helion, you could feel it catching up to you, a dark hole forming in the pit of your stomach. It felt like you were being swallowed alive, eaten by your own anxieties and fear. But you didn’t have time for this. You couldn’t risk falling apart, becoming vulnerable. No, not at a time like this.

You had mastered the art of drowning your thoughts, of discarding the weight that threatened to pull you under. Tonight would be no different. The impending storm would be weathered, as it always had been. You would begin to drink your worries away, give them time to manifest, and then shove them away into the crawlspace of your mind, free to collect dust and rot away.

You moved toward a small table where a simple platter of dark amber liquid awaited. Your fingers tightened around a small crystal glass as you poured. As the first sip touched your lips, you felt the familiar burn, a welcomed distraction. The amber liquid offered solace, if only for a fleeting moment.

And then, you stilled. The creak of the floorboards behind you announced their presence, and you felt it—a pricking at the base of your neck, the subtle disturbance of the air as someone entered, no, appeared. Your body tensed instinctively, shoulders rigid, as you ceased your movements. You took a moment to compose yourself, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply-- a futile attempt to ground yourself.

You downed the drink, the warmth spreading through your veins, and set your glass down, a definitive thud echoing in the silence as it met the table. You turned around slowly, the ever-present undercurrent of anxiety beneath your skin momentarily masked by a face of composure. The simple décor of your home surrounded you—the tattered tapestries, broken furniture—all a testament to a life you had built in the aftermath of your return. One that lacked the color that you once held.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Your voice, laced with both mockery and a hint of something darker, hung in the air.

In front of you, Rhysand stood tall and proud, a figure of authority. His eyes, once familiar and comforting, now held a look determination. His gaze held yours strongly, and for a swift moment, you saw them soften. But the tenderness quickly dissipated, his eyes narrowing with a slight tilt of his head. You ran your eyes along his face, then down his form, taking in the detailed and intricate patterns of his clothing— an embodiment of Night Court royalty. Then, you looked at him again, your jaw clenching. It had been a while since you looked into his eyes, a violet color deeply embedded into your mind. For a moment, his presence consumed your thoughts, distracting you from the other man that you felt in your home.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see the dark figure stepping out from the corners of your room. A darkness licked at your skin.

"Hello, Azriel," you acknowledged him, your eyes remaining fixed on Rhysand.

Azriel's presence was a dark whisper. The edges of your room seemed to blur with shadows as he stood there, a silent observer.

"I’ve come to request your help," Rhysand's voice cut through the stillness, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

Your response was swift, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, that's rich."

The corners of the room seemed to darken further as Rhysand's frustration manifested in the clenching of his jaw. The subtle play of shadows accentuated the lines on his face, revealing the strain of a desperate plea.

"Please hear me out."

You shook your head. They shouldn’t be here. This was risky, dangerous. You needed them to leave. They needed to disappear, to let you go and never find you again. That was the only way you would be able to survive.

But every fiber in your being was screaming to do the opposite, to embrace your cousin and explain to him, tell him everything. You wanted to get on your knees and beg for the kindness he always showed you, to ask him about your sister. For him to tell you about his life, his love, his child. But you couldn’t. And from inside you, your heart tugged you to Azriel, his stoic form. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to catch his gaze. It was all so wrong. This disconnect, this anger you felt for them, for your situation, for yourself… it was eating you up. But this wasn't the time. So you pulled your thoughts together and focused on the one thing that had never let you down: your fire.

You reminded yourself of the resentment you held, deep down. Reminded yourself of how they had failed you, separated themselves from you, your vision, and the suffering of the good people here, in Hewn City— your city. Rhysand's city.

Ignoring his original words, you looked at Rhysand with the hint of a wicked grin on your face.

"Where’s your child bride? I heard she’s reading at the same level as your babe. You must be overjoyed."

Rhysand's expression tightened, anger simmering beneath the surface. The mention of his mate touched a clear nerve, and for a brief moment, you reveled in the discomfort you had caused. It was a twisted satisfaction, a way to regain some sliver of control in this unexpected encounter.

His temper flared, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability replaced by a presence of anger that you knew all too well. He bit down on his frustration, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure. But you pressed on.

“I’m only kidding, take a joke, Rhysand. 500 years and you still have the emotional regulation of a teenager. Nice to see some things don’t change."

Rhysand's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and confusion, observing you and your wall of icy nonchalance. His name sounded foreign on your lips, spoken with such malice and distaste. Even the last time he had seen you, during a bloody war against Hybern, you had not been so venomous. This was a fact you both thought of as you stood here, now, in front of one another again. You moved gracefully through the room, ignoring their presence, and opened a small box that sat on your table. The delicate aroma of sugar wafted through the air. You took a seat.

Azriel and Rhysand exchanged glances. Your fingers idly played with the box, an ornate creation that held delicate, candied treats. With an almost casual indifference, you brought one of the sweet confections to your mouth, savoring the taste as if the weight of their presence meant nothing to you. You could feel the tension building in the atmosphere, heightened by their growing sense of agitation and frustration. It radiated off of them like heat. You welcomed it with open arms, like a freezing child in the cold.

"These are the loveliest desserts,” You explained, bringing the candy close to your face with an examining eye, “Hard to come across here. But I know a guy.”

“Want one?" you offered, dropping your candy back into the box and extending it toward Azriel, whose stoic expression remained unchanged.

"What? Doggy can’t take a treat?" You taunted with a measured smile. You didn’t miss the slight flare of his nostrils, or the way his shadows began to snake up his arms, angry and riled up.

A tense silence lingered as Azriel remained perfectly unmoving, his eyes holding a depth of attentiveness that made you uncomfortable. But the discomfort within you sought distraction, and you continued with your mockery. You waved your hands in the air as a dismissal.

"Bah, you guys are no fun."

The room felt charged as you baited them, your attempts to deflect the gravity of their visit becoming slowly evident in every casual gesture.

Rhysand's frustration reached a boiling point, and he took a step forward, shifting the conversation.

"We didn't come here for sweets and jests. We came for you."

You chuckled, a sound that held a bitter edge. "Me? You must be desperate, Rhysand."

A flicker of hurt crossed his eyes, swiftly replaced by a steely resolve. "There are rumors of rebellion here,” He took a pause, glancing around the room as if he was contemplating continuing. He spoke again, “But, I'm dealing with a larger threat that has me on the defense. I cannot afford an uprising."

Your laughter cut through the air like a blade. "Is the idea of civil unrest among your people an inconvenience? My, what an issue, must be terrible."

Rhysand's patience waned, his features hardening. "Stop this, Y/N. We need your help to prevent a disaster."

You leaned back against your furniture, your eyes narrowing as you regarded him with a chilling indifference. "I've heard nothing about any unrest. You've wasted a trip."

Rhysand's gaze bore into yours, an unspoken challenge. "Azriel has been in Hewn City, gathering information. He's heard the rumors. I know you're lying."

In that moment, a silent battle waged within you. The desire to help, to make a difference, warred against the fear of exposing yourself to the dangers lurking beyond your sanctuary. The memories of the past, the reasons you returned, echoed in your mind. You wanted to help, but you knew their presence could unravel the delicate life you had crafted.

Rhysand's voice softened, a genuine plea beneath the layers of frustration. "Y/N, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. Why do you refuse to acknowledge that?"

Then, his eyes softened, sensing a crack in your facade. Inner turmoil clouded your eyes as you locked gazes with him. The conflict within you played out in the subtle tremor of your fingers, a telltale sign of something bubbling beneath your icy exterior. But as quickly as it manifested, you shut it down, fast enough to resolve Rhys of his attentive eyes. He swallowed and fixed his composure.

"Azriel has gained information that it's not just a rise against me. There are whispers of a rebellion against Keir himself. I need you to listen for information from your father."

Your father. A wave of nausea rippled throughout your body and you clenched your jaw in response. The title sounded strange coming from Rhysand, a stark reminder of your place here, of your place in his family. No, no. You thought. I will not let them see me falter.

Rhysand continued, "Azriel has gathered intelligence, but we need someone on the inside. We need you."

A cynical smile now played on your lips as you taunted them, "Maybe it's time for a change. The mighty High Lord struggling to keep control – how novel."

Azriel, who had maintained a cold silence until now, spoke up for the first time, taking a heavy step forward towards where you sat.

"We both know you do not mean that."

You turned your gaze to him, eyes dark. "And what do you know about what I mean, Azriel? You don't know anything about me."

Rhysand put a hand out in front of Azriel’s form, biting back his retort. The room hung heavy as you finally declared, "You've overstayed your welcome. It's time for you to leave."

Rhysand's eyes met yours with a determined glint.

"I will be back. Family does not give up."

His words pulled out a surge of anger bubbling within you. Family? Without a second thought, you stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. "Family, huh?" Your voice dripped with bitterness, and you moved toward him, anger etched on your face.

But before you could reach him, Rhysand winnowed away with a controlled fury, leaving Azriel lingering.

Azriel stood still, his eyes slightly narrowed, his brows furrowed at you. You met his gaze and felt a wave of guilt through your body, filling the hole where your fury once was a second before. If you didn’t know any better, it seemed as if Azriel was….. Disappointed? Hurt? But you stabilized yourself, pushing the observation away. Your anger, raw and unfiltered, had an intensity that took even him by surprise. He held your gaze. Then, like a wisp of darkness, he too disappeared, leaving you alone with the remnants of unresolved tension and the taste of bittersweet candied treats lingering in the air.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

a/n: hello hello!! welcome to my lil new fic!! im new here and i have no idea what im doing but i hope at least one person enjoys what has become my creative fictional baby. when i tell you this story has a place in my HEART....y/n here is multilayered and complex and flawed but that is why i love her!! serving cunt 24/7!!!

tumblr scares me so any feedback is so very loved and any advice is great too!! mwuah

[comingdownwithme]

Can we see more of Jeff and Toby also is Ben and Ej I’m the comic of not what are your headcanons for them??

Jeff and Toby have always been my favs since I was a kid, so you'll definitely be seeing more of them!

As for the comic, the whole thing is more of snippets and peeks into my interpretation of Creepypasta instead of a solid, sequential storyline, so not a whole lot is concrete, and I won't be posting a whole, fleshed out comic since it's very time consuming. I'm definitely sure Ben and EJ would show up though, especially during Jeff's directionless wanderings

Anyways, Woe! Headcanons be upon ye!

Eyeless Jack

Jack Nyras is a man just trying to survive after he had been left disabled and transformed from putting his trust in the wrong people. Even as the demon contorts and shapes it's host as if it were trying to fit itself it's host's own flesh, Jack remains conscious, all too aware of what is happening to him and the dizzying, maddening hunger that drives him forward

He's gone from a 5'6"-ish guy to a whole 6 foot something of a man after the incident. The demon disfigured and stretched his body to "make itself at home", though it isn't too obvious with his shitty posture and what he wears

He used to go to medschool and was about to graduate as a Valedictorian.

He carries a roll of surgical knives in his hoodie pocket! (My best friend gave me this idea :)))

Burn scars over his eyes! Hot tar does that to you ig, and it harmed him enough to last despite his new form's accelerated regeneration

He's still sane enough to have morals (or at least, he believes he's sane enough), so though he isn't exactly picky, he prefers kidneys since his victims would usually survive with only one, and he strikes at night when his "patients" are sleeping

He's good friends with Jeff (even if neither would admit it, ESPECIALLY not Jeff). They first started out as seeing each other as nothing more than "easy body disposal" and "free meal provider", but each time they bump into each other, they've began to get along past their perceived usefulness

BEN drowned

An angry, vindictive spirit that's been freed from the confines of where he had been sealed. Even still, he can't remember his own face, so despite his newfound freedom, he had taken the form of the model he had been using during his digital imprisonment to manifest. He now wanders the world, vengeful and curious, yearning for a peace he might never get.

His face is stuck between 2 expressions: the calm, neutral look of the elegy of emptiness (which is his usual), or a more expressive- albeit heavily distorted face- during moments of heightened emotion like anger, sadness, etc. Nothing changes from his expression, not even his mouth moves.

The latter is also a reference to how fans usually drew Ben, along with just... .EXE characters in general-

His clothes are always soggy :(

He can manipulate and change his physical form, but the binary scarred into on his calf stays no matter what he does, whether that be changing forms entirely or removing the limb from his "model", in which case the binary moves elsewhere.

Ben is telepathic. He can choose who can understand him at any given moment, whether it be a group, a pair, or a singular person. Everyone else outside of the conversation could hear only gargling, wheezing and coughing.

Avoids areas where water is usually found in large amounts. I.e, lakes, rivers, bathrooms, etc.

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

11 Lap Dances

Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Modern AU / Mafia or Assasin AU but very vague / Reader works at a nightclub / I had way too much fun with this entry so it's a bit longer. Actually thinking about writing more parts for this but it could be read as a stand-alone

A pair of stunning amber eyes had been on you for the past couple of nights. They were hard to miss, leaving a lingering curiosity in the back of your mind.

You continued your performance on the stage as you always did, ignoring all the slurred demands and shrill whistles being thrown at you by the rambunctious crowd. Light bounced off the glass beads on your dress as you moved, creating a dazzling spectacle that few on the dance floor had the heart to appreciate, even if you had their undivded attention. They didn't truly see you, but that was expected. Your seductive dance fed into their fleeting, lust-induced fantasies. There was rarely an exception, and you could always pick them out.

Your eyes fluttered over to him again. He simply sat there, silently watching as if that was all he was here to do. It was all he had done for the past few performances he had attended. In a crowd like this, he stood out like a sore thumb.

The dance finally came to a close. You descended from the stage and made your way through the crowd to the bar to ask for a thirst quencher. Your eyes idly scanned the crowd again for the face that had been occupying your mind. He had disappeared like a puff of smoke again. A bit of disappointment settled on your shoulders as you wondered if he would return tomorrow night to watch you.

Your admirer was a well-dressed man. You could tell even from the stage. His demeanor remained calm and collected despite the loud and rambunctious environment. It was hard not to be intrigued. What was someone like him doing in a place like this? He looked like he belonged elsewhere, somewhere less choked up by cigarette smoke and clumsy drunkards.

Your boss saunters up to you while you were sipping on your drink, thoughts wandering off with a man you knew nothing about.

"A guest requested you." She held up a key card between two fingers.

"Didn't I tell you? I'm not doing private performances."

The woman frowned, but wasn't surprised by your immediate decline. The two of you had an agreement.

"You might want to see this one. Count it as a personal favor to me."

You furrowed your brow, taking a good look at her expression. Ever since you took to the stage, she had been rather lenient on you to the point of favoritism, allowing you to decline interacting with guests you didn't wish to. It wasn't a selfless gesture, but a calculated one. Perceived scarcity artificially inflates value. Your reputation as an untouchable commodity only made you more desirable to the masses that gathered here. She could sell your presence for far more if she withheld you from her ordinary patrons. Their unmet desires fueled your reputation and padded her wallet.

"How much did he give you?" You asked bluntly.

"Nothing." She replied, an unsual tinge of fear colored her voice as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't want to throw you under the bus. You know that."

"He threatened you, didn't he?" You realized.

"Just take care of him for me. I owe you one." She didn't confirm nor deny your suspicions.

The woman standing before you was no herbivore. She swallowed people whole and didn't even bother to spit out their bones once she's done chewing them up. Plenty of illegal activities happened within these walls. She permitted it, protected it even. So the only thing that could stir fear in her was someone who could either put her behind bars or held enough tangible power to quietly make her disappear into thin air.

It looked like you had no choice in this matter.

"Fine. They probably just want a lap dance."

"You better dance like our lives depend on it. I'm counting on you." She almost pleads. It's a first for you, hearing this kind of tone.

She told you the private room number and you plucked the key card from her hand. You immediately downed the rest of your glass and made your way down the hallway. The blinking lights and music dimmed a bit as you distanced yourself from the dance floor. You drew in a deep breath before swiping the card and pushing the door open.

An audible gasp escaped you when your eyes met with a pair of striking amber ones. It was your mysterious admirer, the one you had forgotten about once your boss approached you. He was the monster that wretched woman was begging you to rescue her from?

"You've taken me quite some effort to find." He greets you by your real name rather than your stage alias.

Have you perhaps gotten hit by a car and lost a portion of your memory? You'd swear this man was a complete stranger. If you had met him before, you'd surely remember him. Who could forget such a face?

The door clicked shut behind you as you stood there, not sure how to go about this encounter anymore. You were expecting some large burly man with tattoos running down his arms, so you were actually quite relieved to see him. If every VIP that came through the front doors of the establishment was this attractive, your boss would not have to beg you to entertain them. You would be volunteering to.

"You were looking for me?" You asked, but regretted it immediately. Of course he was looking for you. That was why your boss went to fetch you.

"I have." He sighed, lamenting how difficult it was to convince a mother hen to surrender her prized chick to him. "Come here, dear. Let me take a closer look at you."

Like an obedience switch had been flipped on inside you, your body blindly obeyed his words. That silky, deep voice was hard to resist.

"You have his eyes and hair." He remarks out of the blue.

"Whose?"

"Your father's."

Your eyes widened. When your mother was still with you, she refused to mention your father, even when you asked. She simply said he was a dead man. You've always known he must've been the one you got your eyes and hair from since your mother didn't share those traits with you. Everytime you stared in the mirror, you wondered what your father looked like. After she died, you stopped wasting precious thoughts on useless pondering like that.

"Where is he? He's alive, isn't he?" You asked excitedly.

"Finding you was his dying wish. Due to how young you were when you were separated from him, reliable leads were difficult to come by. As such, I was unable to fulfill his contract until now."

The hope went out in your eyes yet again, after he confirmed that your father was indeed dead as your mother claimed. You shrugged and in an apathetic instant, tossed the gloomy thoughts to the back of your mind.

"So, what now? Are you here to be my surrogate dad or something?"

Your handsome stranger chuckled. "If you'd prefer to see me as a fatherly figure, I can certainly make that accommodation."

"I'd rather not." A mischievous smirk slips into your lips. "Unless you mean for me to call you daddy in a different kind of context."

His brow raised at your flirtation. "Careful now. You barely know me."

"I don't need to." You leaned in. "The less I know, the better off I am, especially in this industry."

"She's taught you well, I see." He hummed in approval.

"Now that we've gotten the reason you're here out of the way, how about I entertain you for a while?" You whispered in a sultry voice. "Can't let you leave empty-handed, right?"

"Your father would not approve of you attempting to seduce me."

"He's dead." You reminded him as you slowly lowered yourself onto his lap, straddling his knees loosely. "Besides, he wouldn't approve of you eyeing his babygirl the way you did while I was on stage either."

Your hips swayed back and forth, ghosting over his leg, barely touching him. This was for his eyes only. If he wanted you, he would have to reach out and take you into his own hands.

"You were putting on quite the performance. Was that not your desired outcome?" He mused, unashamed for being singled out for something the entire audience was guilty of.

"So you admit you want to fuck me too."

"I'm no saint, sweetheart." He warned you.

"Neither am I." You challenged.

The song coming through the speakers was the same one booming on the other side of the door, just without the obnoxious crowd. It gave you something to synchronize to. You rolled your hips to the sensual rhythm. The fluidity of your movements resembled waves tossing against a rocky shore, relentlessly wearing him down.

"So what's your name, handsome?" Your voice distracted him from his thoughts.

"Zhongli." He replied without much hesitation. His voice had gotten thick and slightly gravelly from all your hard work.

A pleased smile sat on your lips. From the first time you saw him in the crowd, he had captured your attention. It took him long enough to make himself more than just a spectator. In a matter of time, this man would be putty in your hands, you thought. Confidence was your charm as well as your blindspot.

"I'll make sure to say it nice and loud when you have me wrapped around your cock later." You whispered right into his ear.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, dear."

"You're going to end up fucking me. Why does it matter what order it happens?" You asked, putting more deliberation into your movements.

"I prefer not to rush into things." He chuckled.

"Are you going to make me sign papers or something?" You teased him.

"I will not lay a finger on you unless you agree to my terms." He managed to say between labored breaths.

True to his word, you realized this man really hadn't touched you at all ever since you've entered the room. All the physical contact between the two of you had been initiated solely by you. A blush spread over your face. You really were getting a bit impatient, but you were glad Zhongli didn't seem to mind.

"What are you, some kind of businessman?" You ask as you press yourself flush against his body. Your lap dance had gradually devolved into something much more erotic and tempting.

"You can say that." He replies cryptically.

"I agree." You pant, getting way too aroused for your own good.

"You haven't even heard them yet." He sighed.

It was getting difficult to think straight with you grinding against him like a sinful little devil. Your audacity was as dangerous as it was daring. It left all too much responsibility for him to shoulder. You might have your feet buried in the mud of this filthy establishment, but this mud was nothing like the bloody sludge his shoes were constantly dragging through. He had found you already, just as your father asked. All he needed to do was keep an eye on you. He didn't even need to see to it personally. Sending Xiao would be a much more efficient course of action. That would keep things simpler for him. Sleeping with you was not part of his original plan.

"Just fuck me good. It's not that complicated."

If you had retained even a shred of caution, you would be treading much more carefully. Your mind was clouded with lust and your only goal was to get this man in the same degenerate state as you.

He shook his head, holding back for whatever reason. You could care less. It wasn't like your reputation could get any more scandalous than it already was, with you working in this sort of place.

"I will need you to quit and cut all ties with this establishment. A new identity and corresponding documents would have to be arranged. You will have to move into my home so that I can see to your safety. Many things will have to change in order for you to adjust to your new life. You will also have to learn to use a gun."

You froze. What the actual fuck?

Why the hell would you need to learn how to pull a trigger if you get involved with him? The whiplash of his words finally brought back your rationality. Your boss's desperate expression resurfaced in your mind. What did he threaten her with in order to make this meeting happen? He didn't deny it when you asked if he was a businessman. What kind of shady business did he deal in to warrant these kinds of precaution?

"As I thought." He chuckled. "How about we slow things down and get to know each other first? Then you can decide if you'd still like to get involved with me."

You narrowed your eyes at the handsome man smiling so harmlessly at you. He was putting it in no uncertain terms that entangling your life with his was going to uproot yours entirely. Even with that said, you were still tempted to step right into his murky water. If he hadn't given you that somber warning, your understanding of Zhongli might remain shallow and short-lived, as infatuations often are. How he laid out all the complications you'd face upfront gave you an ironic sense of groundedness that none of your past flings ever came close to giving you.

"Okay." You stopped moving against him and just draped your arms over his shoulders. "You can start by telling me what exactly is it that you do."

He drew in an exasperated breath. You had him fooled when you first entered the room. He even praised your boss for teaching you to repress your curiosity. It had gotten far too many inquisitive minds killed and he would hate to see you join the body count.

"I deal in various businesses." He vaguely answers.

"I'm going to need more than that, Zhongli." You frown.

"It would serve you no good." He declines with an appeasing smile. "Knowing too much will  paint a target on your back. Your father entrusted you to me, sweetheart. As such, I cannot simply tell you what you want to know. Anything that can potentially put you in harm's way, I will not risk. That includes disclosing information that could compromise you or make you a candidate for taking hostage. Do you now see the severity of what you are asking?" He explained patiently.

"What's the point of warning me then, hmm?" You gripped Zhongli's tie, gently tugging him towards you. Your breath feathered against his lips. "Why even approach me if not meeting you is the safest I'd ever be?"

"I cannot refute that." He admitted gravely.

"Then shut up."

Something had obviously overridden his reasoning and you weren't about to let it go without taking advantage of it. You pressed your lips against his in a quick kiss, parting before he could even think to push you away. He swallowed as you resumed that dreadful lap dance of yours.

Zhongli's tie was finally freed from your grip when you twirled your body around. The back of your bejeweled halter dress was consisted of a dainty chain clasped at the nape of your neck and a narrow strip of fabric, leaving your back completely exposed. Plush thighs peeked out from underneath the skirt. You gathered your hair on one side, leaving the other side of your neck bare. It was a wordless invitation.

"If you believe you can handle it, then my fears are unfounded." He finally yields.

You threw your gaze over your shoulder, taking Zhongli's hand and guiding it to your hips. The fabric of your skirt rode up as his other hand slid up your thigh, fingers splaying as he palmed your ass. You arched your back, swaying with the music. A moan escaped your lips when he gave your butt a good squeeze.

"They are. You'll see. I can take it..." You gasped.

His hands had strayed. One of them had ventured between your thighs, pressing against your soaked entrance through the fabric. It was already sticky with your arousal. His other hand had traveled upwards, slipping underneath your halter to play with your chest. You let out a soft moan as he groped and kneaded the soft flesh, enjoying how pliable you were in his grip.

"Oh?" Zhongli hummed. "Is that so?"

Zhongli gathered you closer, spread your legs wider apart and continued to finger you relentlessly. Your lap dance had come to an end as soon as you placed his hands on your body. You began trembling as his lips joined in on the assault of your senses, leaving sporadic kisses all along your neck and shoulders.

"Please..." You whimpered. "Zhongli!"

"Just a little more. I would hate to ruin this pretty little cunt of yours." He replied calmly, despite his cock straining painfully against his pants.

Your lips fell open, spilling moan after moan as his fingers dug into your drenched folds and bullied your clit. Your desperation had you clawing at his belt, trying without success to free his cock.

"Your father would be disappointed at how brazen you've become. Have you no shame?"

"No...ah!" You cried out as he pinched the sensitive nub at your entrance. "Shut up and... fuck me already!"

"Stand up for a moment."

You did as told while he unbuckled and pulled down his pants. Once the shuffling was over, he gathered you back into his lap. His fingers clutched your waist as he aligned your dripping hole with the tip of his cock. You held your breath as your legs trembled. Zhongli drew in a sharp breath. Labored breathing followed as he slowly lowered you on his cock. A whimper seeped out of you as he speared you open, stretching your insides so deliciously, your walls immediately began clenching.

"Sweetheart, you must relax..." He let out a tortured groan. "That's it... Take all of it like you said you could."

You whined and moaned as he continued to push deeper, cock disappearing into you inch by inch.

"Ah... Too thick!" You gasped as he shoved his entire length up into you.

With a helpless moan, you dropped your head back against his shoulder. You never got to see the size of his cock before he put it in you, but judging by how painful the initial stretch was, he must’ve been swollen beyond imagination.

"Bend down for me, sweetheart. Yes... That's a good girl." He praised you while lifting you off his cock before sheathing you all the way down to the hilt.

"Too fast! Ah... Zhongli!" You choked out in between gasps and moans.

"You're doing so well, my sweet. Are you sure?" He chuckled. "Or was that a slip of tongue? You can certainly take it. Right, darling?"

As if to prove you had not yet reached your limit, he began to maneuver you up and down his shaft at an even quicker pace. Laschivous squelches and wet slaps emited from where the two of you were joined. Your mind had since turned into slush, lips parted in an endless stream of incoherent babbling and high pitched moans.

You lost count of how many times you came for him. It became a drunken blur to you. There were flashes of blinding pleasure and sensual moments interspersed in between. He bent you over a barstool once. You faintly remember being pinned against the counter as well as the wall. Most of the fucking happened on the couch though. Your body was so overwhelmed with pleasure, senses riled up and muscles tense with repeated strain, when it was all over, you pretty much collapsed into a pile of mush. You clung to Zhongli as he carried you out of the building and into the back of his car. Your dress was miraculously still on your body, but he had wrapped his coat around you for good measure. Your thighs were a glistening mess, a sight he'd rather keep to himself. As he exited, several of his men who were scattered within the club left with him while some remained to take care of whatever they were tasked to do. Your boss didn't dare intercept him to ask where he was taking you. From the moment Zhongli asked for you, you were no longer in her hands.

When you woke, an unfamiliar bedroom greeted you rather than the VIP room. Your halter dress had been changed into a nightgown and you were lying in a large bed covered in silk sheets and pillows. Your eyes wandered, scanning the rest of your surroundings. In a corner sat a bunch of boxes and a suitcase that unmistakably belonged to you. You never remembered packing anything, but it was obvious that the stacks of boxes contained items that also belonged to you. You climbed out of bed and made your way to the coffee table. A cellphone, an ID, and a post-it note was laid out on it. The handwriting on the note was neat and elegant, as expected of someone like Zhongli.

"There is bamboo shoot soup on the stove. Reheat it if it has gotten cold. Your father used to cook this often. Hopefully you will enjoy the taste."

You stared at the note, spacing out. You had never met your father before. Didn't even know his name nor what he looked like. There was nothing for you to attach anything to, not even resentment. However, from Zhongli's mention of him, you could tell he held fond memories of the man. Through that faceless man, you had crossed paths with a mysterious stranger who had swept you off your feet and dropped you into an unfamiliar world.

You picked up the ID. That was certainly your face staring back at you on the photo, but the name didn't belong to you. Neither did the birthday nor address.

Bits of conversation flitted through your mind as well as everything that happened between you and Zhongli last night. Only a few hours had passed between now and when you were brought here. Unless he had arranged all of this beforehand, there was no way it would be ready in such short notice.

He warned you beforehand that all of this was going to happen. You should be much more distraught at the sudden change of environment, but you weren't. His world was no less uncertain than yours, with its own set of dangers and unspoken rules. Perhaps it was even more unpredictable than the one you had just escaped. Maybe you had fled the pan and jumped into a skillet. The only grace you could cling to was the man who had dragged you into it. Zhongli promised to protect you and arm you with the means to protect yourself. Already, that was a better arrangement than what you had with your boss, who was now inevitably your ex-boss. No longer did you have to dance for nameless strangers in return for her favor. At most, you'd give an occasional lap dance to someone you actually wanted to entertain. You doubted Zhongli would share you with anyone else with the way he fucked you last night.

Your ex-boss's words fluttered through your mind. 'You better dance like our lives depend on it. I'm counting on you.'

You sure did dance like your life depended on it. Your performance was so good, Zhongli couldn't bear to leave you there for another day. Unfortunately for that woman, she was now on her own. You didn't worry about her. She would find a replacement for you in no time. As for Zhongli, he seemed like someone you could actually count on since the very reason he came looking for you was to fulfill a contract he had made to your father. He took them seriously, which convinced you that maybe you should enter one with him as well. At least with him, you had the confidence that he would see through with it.

Now what would a contract with Zhongli look like? What did you have to offer him? Sure, you were going to learn how to use a gun. Perhaps you would train hard and get good enough to be of actual use with it. There must be certain things an attractive woman with a gun could do that a man couldn't. Or maybe he would rather you give him a certain amount of entertainment on a regular basis. You would ask him the next time you see him.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Power of a hug feat mk1 Johnny Cage, Bi-Han, Kenshi Takahashi author note:as my fave memer said "the wettest and most humid kiss is nothing in comparison to the power of an hug". There are other characters that I have in mind with this prompt so I hope the post will go well lol.

tw: Kenshi part is suggestive.

You are used to being alone, you have been for most of your years, and you are sure Johnny would never describe you as clingy. You give him his space, he gives you yours, nice and comfortable. That’s why when he told you about this expedition that was going to take him a long time and far away, you didn’t budge, just kissed him goodbye and told him to come back in one piece.

Okay, the departure wasn’t so blunt, and maybe there weren’t just kisses and maybe you were sobbing while telling him to be safe because you knew that Johnny wasn’t going out for a movie, but this is the gist of it.

And now you are sitting on Johnny’s armchair, wearing his favorite cover, the one dripping off his perfume, reading, trying to get your mind elsewhere while your heart silently shouts in pain, while your brain screams at it to shut up, because you are strong and even if you haven’t heard him for 2 months you shouldn’t miss him so much, because you are independent and yadda yadda; you miss him so much you’d curl up in a hole and get moldy there.

You sit there, ‘till you recognize a familiar sound, “is that Liu Kang voice?” you think, already standing up. There are other voices outside the house, but soon they all fade when you hear one in particular.

It’s Johnny’s one.

You’d like to stay in, wait for him inside nonchalantly walking towards him to greet your boyfriend as elegantly as you can muster.

Outside is snowing and you are wearing shorts (made of wool, but still shorts) and slippers but your mind simply doesn’t work, heart beating freely, pumping blood with new vigor.

“Johnny!” You open the door, freezing air hitting your body with full force, but you feel nothing.

Your legs run toward your boyfriend before your mind perceives your action. He turns around at your voice, and he is so beautiful your legs almost give up…almost.

“Oh-“ You jump in his arms, knocking him a few steps behind, not noticing all the gifts he had to throw on the ground to take you. You sigh in his arms, his strong arms now enveloping your shivering body “Kitty, are you shivering because you missed me?” He jokingly says,

“Yeah, it’s because I missed you so much.”  Your voice breaks, your arms around his neck, legs gripping his waist as tightly as you can.

His hands slid on your thighs, thumbs drawing hearts on your skin, no goose-bumps, he is so warm and you are so full of love that you can’t feel anything else anymore.

Your foreheads kiss, breaths mingling, smiles stuck on both of your faces, warm brown eyes locked into yours.

His friends are long gone, leaving the two lovebirds alone.

He had to leave you there, in a snowstorm in the hands of the enemies, alone. You always have a plan, they always work out that’s why he trusts you so much even if you are a total dumbass.

“Go Bi-Han, don’t worry for me.” Your voice was trembling, you knew that you couldn’t survive and you also knew that he needed to return home alive.

And he follows your order because you are always right and things always go your way. Even when you are against him. Even when you tease him making his ears flush red. You always come up victorius.

Bi-Han stops on his track, snow falling on his shoulders. He can’t breathe. He hates you.

He’d like to sit there and let snow bury him. He can’t, he is Lin Kuei grandmaster whose willpower never waver, and who is headstrong like nobody else. Bi-Han has seen dear ones die in front of his eyes, betray him, this time mustn’t be any different.

Bi-Han feels like crying. You aren’t a fighter, but he wanted to bring you with him because nobody could outsmart you, and your brain was needed for this mission.

What an idiot. He tightens his fists, eyes closed so tight that wrinkles appear at the corners, no punishment would be enough for his mistake, never enough whips, never enough slaps.

He stays there a few more minutes, he couldn’t go back home, not ‘till he won’t be sure tears wouldn’t spill from his eyes.

Then he hears a voice, more like a whine, but it’s something he has heard many times before. Bi-Han starts to run towards the voice, walking much harder with so much snow.

“Told you-“ You are there, sitting on the snow, trembling like a newborn kitty, eyes shining, and with that shit-eating grin of yours “my plans never fail!” He crouches down towards you, he must be going crazy, his index and middle fingers pinch your cheek.

“Ouch! Why did you do that?” You are there, real, talking to him like you didn’t say goodbye to him a few minutes prior. He sits next to you, onyx eyes wide.

“You are alive” He is able to say, voice hoarse as always, mask reducing the sound to a mere whisper.

“Yeah, I would have never let anyone take my life, they have to get in line you know? Since you were the first one to promise me you were going to-“

Bi-Han doesn’t let you finish the phrase, his arms hugging your torso so close and so strongly against his body that he knocks air out of your lungs.

“I was so worried.” His right hand grips the back of your head, holding it in the nook of his neck. His voice trembles and he feels you stilling in his arms. He can feel your warm breath on his neck, your chest rising up and down at each breath you take; you are alive.

He almost lost you.

You free your head from his grip, thin ice on your hair like a veil made by his unrestrained magic, your hands now slowly removing his mask, showing you his trembling lips, you look at his eyes, he knows they are watery, his vision is foggy. Then your delicate fingers grip the collar of his uniform, your lips pressing for the first time against his.

It is a short moment, Bi-Han closes his eyes, and when he opens them your lips aren’t there anymore, but he still feels something warm; your arms reciprocating the hug.

It is suffocating but at the same time makes him feel alive, a warmth that envelops him entirely, that makes his heart run like a wild horse, but that puts his mind at ease; he is safe, you are too in his arms.

He couldn’t ask for more.

“K-Kenshi-“ You gasp, your hips grinding onto his, his tattoed hands running from your chest to your tummy, never resting, never letting you go.

He missed you. Kenshi missed you terribly. It wasn’t just sex, as good as it is, he missed your voice, your hands in his ones, your gentle lips on his cheeks. He missed hearing you talking about your day, about that terrible co-worker. He missed hearing your laughter and your hands massaging his scalp when he felt particularly stressed.

A moan dies in his throat after a delicious roll of your hips. Yeah, he missed this too.

You are close he can feel it and he is not far behind, but there is still something he desperately needs to do.

He lifts up, sitting now, his arms around your waist, hands on your lower back, both guiding your movements and keeping you close to his chest.

“I missed you so much-“ A whimper leaves his mouth, he can feel your lips so close to his, your breath labored, your body so close creates a delicious friction that just makes his mind fog even more.

“Me too, me too-“ You hug him back, your arms tight against his back, nails scratching his back while he helps you both reach completion.

You keep each other close, breaths still heavy, bodies sweaty.

“I missed you so much.” You are the first one to break the silence, Kenshi notices a hint of sadness.

Hint that became something more when the hand caressing your cheek meets a tear. The pang he feels in his heart hurts so much, but he also knows it is deserved.

“Me too honey, me too.” His right hand massages the back of your head, while the other traces heart-shaped patterns on your back.

Kenshi doesn’t let go, now laying on your shared bed, you on top of him. He can’t see your face, but losing sight made him more sensible, noticing every gasp leaving your lips, every twitch of your muscles.

He restrains himself, he can’t cry, but every gasp that leaves your lips is like a stab in his chest, each tear pulling your body closer, your hearts beating in synchronized sorrow.

But Kenshi can’t tell you that next time it will be different. He can’t reassure you that he will be safe.

He keeps you close to his chest ‘till he feels your breath slowing down, now stable. Kenshi keeps caressing your back, feeling his muscles relax, exhaustion washing over him too.

Kenshi soon falls asleep, wishing to still have you in his arms when he’ll regain consciousness the next morning.

[sinkovia]

Selfish asshole

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Fluff w/ slight Angst

The bond between you and Ghost had always been deep, a connection that went beyond words. In the subtle gestures and the extra efforts, your love for him remained a secret. Ghost, perceptive as ever, saw the signs – the smiles, the looks, the special attention reserved just for him and he loved every bit of it. You always went the extra mile for him, making sure his mornings started with a cup of tea, ready by the time he came down from his barracks.

You stayed up late with him when he couldn't sleep, offering your comforting presence. You were always there for him, and he appreciated that more than words could express. Ghost cherished you, you were so beautiful in his eyes. He found comfort in the sound of your voice and the way you looked at him as if he were more than just a soldier.

Ghost couldn't help but feel a warmth in his heart every time you were around.

Yet, beneath the surface, a silent struggle unfolded within him. He recognized the love growing within your heart, mirroring the emotions he held but could never admit. The unspoken truth became a weight, and he made a painful decision to distance himself. In his eyes, you deserved more than what he believed he could offer.

Haunted by his past and perceiving himself as a mere shell, Ghost felt a duty to spare you from the darkness that clung to him. He became distant, withdrawing from the closeness you once shared, hoping you'd find happiness elsewhere. The short responses and a subtle coldness were his way of urging you to move on, to seek love with someone who could provide the life he thought you deserved.

It was a choice Ghost made out of love, even if it meant sacrificing his own feelings.

The change in Ghost's behavior was immediately noticeable. He started his days earlier, and the morning tea ritual you once shared slowly faded away.

As the days went by, the once vibrant connection between you two started to fade. The warmth in his eyes dimmed, and the shared moments that used to bring you joy now felt like distant memories. It was as if he had built an impenetrable wall around himself, shutting you out.

You found yourself at a loss, trying to comprehend what had gone wrong. Hurt and confusion crept into your heart as you grappled with the unexplained distance. You missed him more than words could explain. The ache grew, prompting you to confront him about it.

"Hey, do you think we can—" Your words hung in the air as he turned abruptly, walking away. Determined to have answers, you gently reached for his arm, concern etched on your face. But before you could express your worries, he snapped, his voice laced with irritation.

"Don't fucking touch me." He yanked his arm away, leaving you shocked by the sudden change. In all the time you'd known him, he had never raised his voice at you.

"Please just tell me what's wrong. Why are you pushing me away? Was it something I said?"

He glanced around, a momentary flicker of sadness crossing his eyes before the familiar cold mask returned. Towering over you, he stared into your eyes, contemplating something. The cold, dead expression dominated, and the words he spoke cut through your heart.

"You're always bothering me, following me around like a lost puppy! You never give me my fucking space!" Your lips parted, face etched in disbelief and pain.

“You don't mean that.” The words barely escaped in a whisper, your heart breaking.

“I do. Now leave me alone.”

His gaze softened as he saw your teary-eyed expression, regret clouding his eyes. The harsh words he yelled were filled with remorse, but he believed they were necessary lies to push you away. With your heart shattered, you turned and walked away, leaving Ghost alone with his regrets and self-imposed isolation. He hoped that the hurtful words would be enough for you to move on, to find someone better. As you hurried to your room, tears streaming down your face, you ran into Soap, further entangling your emotions in the web of confusion and pain.

"Bloody hell lass, are you okay?"

You broke down in the hallway, pouring your heart out to Soap about your feelings for Ghost and what he had said to you when you tried to talk to him. Anger fueled him, and he stormed away to find Ghost. Entering the rec room, he found him sitting alone on the couch. Ghost's eyes met Soap's as he was about to ask what he was doing, but Soap's knuckles collided with his jaw.

Soap, who knew Ghost felt the same way about you, couldn't fathom why he would say something hurtful to you.

"You're pathetic, Ghost, you know that?" he staggered back from the impact, shock evident in his wide eyes.

"You're a fucking coward." Soap's frustration echoed in his voice as he berated him for hurting your feelings when he knew you both loved each other. Ghost got up, towering over Soap, breathing quickening. He pushed passed him to walk away, but Soap spoke up again.

"You hate Y/n, admit it."

Ghost stopped dead in his tracks, turned, and walked up to Soap, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

"You don't know anything about how I feel. You have no idea how I feel about her. If I told her how I really felt, she would drop everything to be with me. She would sacrifice everything good in her life for me because that's the type of person she is. She's perfect, Soap, the best thing that has ever happened to me. She's too good for someone like me. I won't let myself ruin her. I refuse to let that happen."

You had been standing at the entrance of the rec room, hearing everything. Soap's gaze shifted to you, and Ghost quickly turned around. His eyes widened in shock as you walked up to him with anger in your eyes. Without hesitation, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face.

"You selfish asshole."

Both Ghost and Soap's eyes widened, not expecting such a reaction from you.

"Why can't you let yourself be happy for once in your life Ghost? I love you more than anything. I don't care if you think you're not good enough for me. You are enough. You are more than enough, Ghost. You make me so happy. Please just let me do the same for you."

Ghost opened his mouth to object, but you quickly put your finger up, shushing him.

"I'll be at Maggianos at 8pm tomorrow night. If you don't show then I'll have my answers and if you do then it's a date." with that you turned and walked out of the rec room.

The next evening, you were sitting in a booth by yourself waiting. You checked the time on your phone, It was 8:05. You wondered if he would show up. You gave him five more minutes and still, he had not come. You sigh and get up from the booth, as you were turning to leave you saw him standing there, flowers in hand and his mask off.

You smile as he walks up to you and hands you the flowers. "Your late"

"I know, I'm sorry"

Seated across from each other, you spent hours talking over dinner, sharing a romantic night. As the night grew late, you both returned to the base together. Walking you to your room, Ghost lingered, and you chatted for a few moments before bidding each other farewell. As he began to leave while you unlocked your door, he suddenly turned around, cupping your face and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"I couldn't spend another second wondering what it felt like, I'm sorry," he whispered against your lips. Smiling, you responded by gently placing your hand behind his neck and pulling him into another soft kiss.

Pulling away, he smiled down at you, admiring your features. Despite not being religious, he thanked god for having someone as pure and perfect as you in his life. "Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight, Ghost."

"Simon," he said, gazing down at you with a gaze full of love.

"Goodnight, Simon." The sound of his name coming from you made his heart swell, and he planted a kiss on your forehead before walking back to his room. Smiling, you entered yours, closing the door behind you.

You found yourself lying on your bed, basking in the afterglow of the evening. The room held a serene ambiance as you reflected on the moments you two shared.

Thoughts of how good your life had become flooded your mind, and a contented smile graced your face. The memory of the date lingered, and you couldn't help but replay the sweet moments, the laughter, and the connection you felt.

Your thoughts shifted to the warmth of Simon's lips, savoring the tender kisses exchanged. The sensation lingered, and you found yourself lost in the euphoria of the moment. As you lay there, the room filled with a sense of fulfillment, your heart swelled with gratitude for the happiness that had found its way into your life.