#i think it could make for an interesting gender on the shadow

[velveteen-vampire]

i think shadow the hedgehog is nonbinary in the way he was made as some sexless science experiment but everyone on the ark just defaulted to referring to him as a boy in typical "the default is male" fashion and bc its the 50s he learns like rudimentary gender roles from maria (little girl who wouldnt know better anyway) and then he wakes up 50 years later and encounters sonic and his transgender as fuck circle of friends hes like WHAT THATS ALLOWED

[merakiui]

thing.

yandere!skully j. graves x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, fear/paranoia, brief mention and description of dead animals note - "he is there—and there again, but you cannot see him plain, for the shadow lies so darkly on the hill."

There is a bundle of black roses propped against your door. Thirteen of them, devoid of thorns, but the threat is still there—nestled within the petals, a foreboding symbolism.

A stupid Halloween prank, you think, gathering the roses and tossing them out.

Come tomorrow, there is a new bouquet waiting for you. These are white, but they have their thorns. A small card accompanies the gift. There’s a message printed in an old typewriter font: No good?

Like before, you discard these flowers. You have no time for secret admirers or daft nonsense.

So the roses stop blooming at your door, tied up with pretty twine and ribbons. Instead, you receive bones and carcasses. A mouse skull. Deer teeth. A mangled bird, its wings snapped and bent at the joints. A rabbit’s foot, warm and still bleeding, the bone jutting out from severed flesh. The roses, you think, were a preview of what was to come—of what you’d soon be mourning.

These macabre presents are wrapped sincerely, shrouded daintily with frilly cloth. They come with their own set of cards, each one typed just like before. 

I can see you.

Good luck on your exam today. Carry this rabbit’s foot with you and you shall know fortune.

This naughty bird is always cawing outside of your window. It wakes you up, so I silenced it for you. It is most beautiful in death, is it not?

Are you going to bring that friend of yours around again? I don’t quite like the scent they leave on your sheets. :(

So you share these morbid anecdotes with your friends over dinner. They don’t believe you.

“You’ve one persistent dog after you,” one of them remarks, eyeing the pictures with a curious, doubtful eye. “A real rotten mutt.”

“But I don’t have a dog,” you reply.

“Well, something’s coming home to you every night.”

“It’s just me. I live alone.”

“Do you? You sure nothing’s following you? You don’t hear the jingle of a collar? The soft padding of paws on tile, loyally trailing after its owner?”

At the time, you thought these were foolish questions.

“The flowers? Definitely a person,” your logical friend suggests. “The dead stuff? Probably a wild animal. A hawk once dropped a mouse in my yard. It’s normal. Someone’s just making a nasty time out of it, leaving those notes to scare you.”

That sounds reasonable. You choose to believe it even when there are inconsistencies and clues that prove otherwise.

You check the locks on your doors and windows. You consider buying cameras, but maybe that’s misplaced paranoia. No one’s inside your house. No person or thing could possibly get in. You’re not sure what would be worse: a tangible human being with human hair, human eyes, and human teeth, or a thing. A thing with claws and a razored maw. A thing with inhuman strength and the eerie quietness of a phantom, plucked right from your nightmares and dropped in reality.

A human being is tangible. A thing could be anything. It could also be nothing.

“I’m not interesting enough to have a stalker,” you tell your logical friend. “Not special enough or rich enough. Not attractive enough.”

“You don’t have to be,” they tell you. “Sometimes all you need to be is alone and vulnerable. Sometimes all you need to do is exist so that they have something to latch onto—something they can covet no matter what.”

“Do you think they’ll kill me?” you ask next, hesitating around that word. Kill. It’s so final and exact. “If they can do such gruesome things to those animals…”

“Or it could be a dog. Dogs don’t kill their owners. They’re loyal.”

“But it’s not a dog. I don’t even think this thing is domesticated.”

“Then what is it?”

“Something.”

It is something malevolent. It is something malicious. It is something you can’t quite fathom—something you can’t picture in your mind because it is always swapping shapes. One minute it’s a nest of mice dwelling within your walls. The next it’s a shadow creature—a demon or a monster. The next it’s a human with strange proportions, too-long legs and too-long arms and a too-long torso. The next it’s a dog with a long, long snout and very human eyes, with human hands for paws, with a curling smile that reveals gaps in its pointed, bloody maw. It feasts on flesh and hunts little, defenseless songbirds, and it’s after you because it wants something you can’t give it.

What does it want? Is this thing even real? Perhaps the anxiety is making a monster out of nothing.

You twist and turn in the dark, wrapped up in sheets that feel more itchy than they do comforting. You’re cold all over, sweating an ocean in your bed. You think your heart might burst out of your chest at any minute. Every creak and groan of the house unsettles nerves that are already pulled impossibly taut. You gaze into the dark doorway, squinting through shadows that look like they’re waltzing in and out of focus.

Or…

Is the door breathing? Is someone there?

You rub your eyes and relief filters in. There’s nothing.

Or…

Your phone cuts a slice of light through your bedroom. You shine it towards the door from where you cower on your bed. There’s nothing.

Your friend—the unfunny one—texts you then, and the vibration scares you more than your imagination. A text is tangible, easily categorized, and yet it’s the scariest thing you’ve just received at this moment, however ghoulishly playful it may be.

u need a leash for ur dog?

You drop your phone. It illuminates the space beneath your bed for a second before the screen shuts off.

You think you hear someone breathing or a heart beating. It’s yours.

Or…

Swallowing thickly, you reach for your phone. You feel soft, fluffy hair. At first, you think it really is a dog when a warm, wet tongue laves over your palm. But you don’t have a dog, and it’s then when you feel the rest of this…thing. Human ears. Human nose. Human mouth. Human teeth. 

Another text brightens your phone. The screen flickers on.

You peek over the edge of your mattress to find a distinctly human face smiling back at you.

might as well get a collar too yeah?

[inazumass]

Animal Attraction - Laios x Beastman!Reader

No beta read this time, but I might add other chapters of this for f/m/ftm reader in the future on AO3 if there's enough interest for it. I try to make my smut as inclusive as possible but sometimes it takes away from the descriptors, y'know? Let me know what you think! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56591389

TAGS/Warnings: NSFW, Smut with Plot, Gender Neutral Reader, No Use of Y/N, Mild Themes of Forced Proximity/One Bed Trope (Kinda), Huddle For Warmth, Penetration, Gender Neutral Anatomy, Second Person Perspective/Freeform, Beastman/Beastkin Reader/Doglike Reader, Comfort, No Pet Names, Enthusiastic Consent, No use of protection don't be like Chilchuck, y'all

Word Count: 11.9k

As always, Minors DNI

Shadows stretched long across the wooden floor of the old bedroom where Laios sat in his bed for the night. This floor was quiet now but if anyone paused to listen they would be able to hear all the creatures off in the distance as they stalked their way through the dungeon. Their various calls and cries echoed off the far away walls of the vast cavern surrounding the ruins. 

It was cool here now, the crisp night air swirling through the alleyways and rustling the curtains. If it weren’t for the view out the window of the ruined structures littering the cave the old town was situated in, it might have been easy for anyone to convince themselves that they were in any regular old inn on the surface. 

There were few usable rooms left in the building now though, and the party had to make do with the last three decent rooms on the third floor. Not that anyone seemed to mind much… hell, most were grateful for a proper bed to sleep on for the first time in days. 

Down the hall Laios could hear the sounds of his party mates getting settled in for the night, their muffled speech unintelligible through the thick stone walls. He had settled into his bed, unfurling his bedroll over the old linen sheets as he stole glances at the newest member of their ragtag group.

He tried hard not to stare, but his gaze kept flickering up to the soft ears perched atop your head.

By now he’d known well enough not to question Izutsumi on her state after much scolding from the others and the sharp sting of her claws whenever she would get fed up with his pestering. Yet you were so vastly different in comparison to the sharper features of the party’s youngest member; your sharper more wolf-like features juxtaposed with the softer body of a human, the perfect fusion of man and beast. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like… he’d always fantasised, albeit not so secretly about what it might be like to have more animalistic features, were you more monster or more human? His thoughts were cut off quickly when your eyes flicked over to him, feeling his eyes on your back. Your ears flicked in mild annoyance, not exactly fond of the intrusive gaze.

“What are you staring at?” You sighed, all too used to the way people would size you up. The questions, the fear, the judgement.

“Your ears look so soft.” The blond smiled sheepishly as the words slipped out of his mouth without much thought. 

The sincerity of his gaze caught you by surprise, unsure how to respond as you stared back at him. You blinked slowly, momentarily thrown off by his unexpected offhand comment. He seemed genuine, his eyes holding a warmth that contrasted sharply with the usual wariness you encountered from other tallmen. After a beat of silence, you couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"They're just ears," You replied, your tone light but tinged with a hint of amusement as your ears perked back up, "But thanks, I guess?"

He chuckled softly in return, a sheepish grin still playing on his lips. "Sorry, that was probably a weird thing to say, huh?" Laios asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked down at his lap.

"It's... different," you admitted, offering him a nonchalant shrug. "But different can be nice.” You said finally, earning another smile from the tallman.

His sheepish grin widened into a relieved smile at your response, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he let out a quiet sigh. "I'm glad you think so," Laios replied, amber eyes still avoiding your gaze. He knew if he looked back up he wouldn’t be able to resist staring a little longer. "I didn't mean to make things awkward."

You shook your head, offering him a reassuring smile of your own. "No need to worry about it. It's refreshing, honestly." You replied, sitting back against the old wooden headboard. Perhaps you had been wary of him for no reason, though you hadn’t fully dropped your defences around the group despite your curiosity about the knight. They had all been gracious enough to take you in when you were too injured to carry on alone.

You were certain if they hadn’t wandered by when they did you would have been doomed on your own. Now, you thought, you would be forever indebted to them for their kindness. That being said, you couldn’t help but feel out of place regardless of their continued kindness.

 “I’m sorry... I guess I was just expecting you to say something else.” You admitted. A sigh pushed past your lips as you hugged your knees, uneasy at even the smallest bit of vulnerability you’d shown him with your vague explanation.

Though he wasn’t the best at reading the emotions of others, he could see the way you curled in on yourself as if protecting something, your ears drooping against your head. It reminded him of the strays he would see back home, wounded, exposed…

His voice was gentle as he spoke, his gaze lifting to look you in the eyes as he searched for the right words. “I’ve heard stories of beastmen before… but you and Izutsumi are way cooler than any of them.” Laios affirmed, earning a little snort of laughter from you. “Seriously! Half tallman and half wolf, that’s… incredible!” He exclaimed.

You wanted to disagree, but something about the way his eyes lit up when he spoke had you believing it too. After all, no ordinary tallman could do what you could. Even so, you found yourself shifting in discomfort under his gaze. You had always been acutely aware of the implications of your existence, created from black magic… an abomination, a monster. 

Even now that you’d finally met someone like you, someone who couldn’t shift the way others in similar circumstances could, she was nothing like you. Though you suspected Izutsumi more than tolerated you from the way she would curl up between you and Marcille when she slept... half the time she complained that you reeked of dog smell, that you were noisy, and so on. You were nowhere near as agile as she was. Your form held little to be proud of; sharp teeth and claws, patches of fur scattered across your body. Both on the surface and deep within the dungeons black magic and all of its creations were things to be feared, reviled.

"Most people see me as a monster," you admitted bitterly, looking away from him as you hugged your knees a little tighter.

Laios’ brow furrowed slightly as he watched you retreat back into your shell. A monster? He wasn’t entirely certain what had compelled him to say what he said next, but the words came out regardless. “So what?” He frowned, his tone capturing your attention once more even if it was mostly due to the shock of hearing him speak like that. “Who cares what anyone else thinks?"  

The question was rhetorical and you knew that, yet you opened your mouth to speak anyways. The protests died on your lips before they could form entirely as he cut you off. “Their misconceptions about you aren’t going to change who you are.” The knight said firmly as he looked deep into your eyes, the intimacy of his earnest gaze causing you to look away again. 

Laios’ words echoed in your mind, resonating with a quiet strength that you couldn't ignore. You were silent for a long moment. Something about the way he spoke so confidently on the matter had you suspicious that he’d had to tell himself the same thing once or twice. "You're right," you replied, a newfound resolve coursing through your veins as you felt that unfamiliar spark of understanding for the first time in years. "Who cares what anyone else thinks?" You repeated.

For too long, you’d allowed the judgement and scorn of others to dictate your actions, to shape your perception of yourself. While it would take time to internalise it properly and truly digest the sentiment behind his words of encouragement, you felt a bit more steady for the time being. For now you would forge your own path alongside his party.

"Thank you," you said softly, meeting the knight's gaze with a grateful smile. 

“Of course.” He replied, laying back against his bed roll and looking up at the ceiling. He was torn now, frustration and mild jealousy gnashing their ugly teeth and gnawing at the back of his mind. Jealousy because he’d always dreamt of what it might be like to be a werewolf or something of the sort, frustration because others couldn’t see how amazing you and the other beastmen truly were beyond your respective abilities in the arenas. Questions swirled in his mind and died in his throat, even Laios knew that now wasn’t the time to ask. Beastman status aside, it irked him that you’d been made to feel that way about yourself.

You had laid down on your own bed before stealing another glance at him. Even in the faint glow that illuminated the room you could see the way his brow furrowed as he stared up at the vaulted ceiling, the mild tension in his jaw. 

“You look like you have something else to say.” 

He hesitated, his words caught in his throat… You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him and whatever he seemed to be wrestling with in that moment. Despite the barriers that separated you… you shared a common struggle, not just on this mission but in life as a whole. You understood that now.

Laios hesitated, uncertain of how his thoughts would be received. "I do," he admitted. "But it's... complicated."

“Try me,” you replied, rolling over so you could face him properly.

Laios hesitated again, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling as he weighed the words in his mind. Even in the short few days you’d been with the group he knew you well enough to know that you deserved to hear what he said next.  "It's just... sometimes I can't help but feel a little... envious," he admitted, self-consciousness flooding into his senses as he spoke the words aloud. A part of him expected you to snap at him for saying something like that after he heard the way his words hung in the open air.

You didn't though, instead you just cocked your head slightly, curiosity piqued by his confession. "Envious? Of what?" He couldn't have meant what you thought he did. You were cursed. Even with the enhanced senses, your strength, your speed… the weight of the isolation had always felt heavier.

A faint blush coloured Laios' cheeks as he met your gaze, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Of you, actually," he confessed, his tone laced with a mix of admiration and embarrassment. "I mean, you're so... unique. You’ve got the best of both traits, you’re strong, you’re fast… you’re a skilled strategist, your sense of smell is unparalleled and… I can always tell when you’re happy because your tail wags even when you’re trying to be serious.” He looked back up and away from you once again as he realised he couldn’t stop the words from spilling past his lips, scratching the itch in his brain. 

“I know it’s only reasonable for people to be wary of the unfamiliar, it’s in our nature to want to keep ourselves safe from something that could be perceived as a threat. It’s the one thing we living creatures all have in common. But it’s just frustrating, because…”  Because you’re like me. Laios wanted to stop himself from saying what came out next, but he couldn’t help it. "...because sometimes it feels like no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, we'll always be seen as outsiders," There was a resigned look on his face now, despite the bitterness of the frustration replacing his usual upbeat tone. "Like we're destined to be misunderstood, judged solely by the circumstances of our existence."

You swallowed hard, looking back up at the ceiling with him as his rant struck something within you. His words stung with that all too familiar ache of rejection. There was another beat of silence that passed between the two of you as the weight of his sentiment settled in.

“I know what you mean,” You replied, voice barely above a whisper. This time it was your turn to snap him out of it. “But you know what? Despite it all, we're still here. And that counts for something, doesn't it?"

He didn’t seem convinced, but you could see the way the tension started to leave his body when he finally rolled over to face you from across the room. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Laios replied, the ghost of a halfhearted smile on his pink lips. 

The two of you looked at each other in silence for a long moment, a silent understanding passing between the two of you in the night. It had been a long time since you’d had the liberty to have a conversation like this. Open, honest, vulnerable under the cover of the night, tucked away somewhere quiet...

“Thank you,” you couldn’t help but say it again, something about the heavy conversation seemed to lighten the invisible load on your shoulders. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had a conversation like this.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he gave a slight bob of his head in agreement. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's nice to just... talk."

As the conversation continued to flow between you, the initial tension that had hung in the air slowly dissipated, replaced by a growing sense of ease and comfort. Though you both knew that you should have been sleeping, found yourself drawn to his company, his honesty and blunt nature was refreshing. As the evening wore on, bathed in the gentle glow of the flickering candles and soft hum of conversation, you couldn't help but feel grateful for having met the tallman.

You could feel the gentle caress of the breeze as it snuck through the open window, teasing the flames of the candles and sending shadows dancing across the stone walls of the old room. The soft light illuminated the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that seemed to envelop you both in its soothing embrace.

Neither of you were certain when you’d drifted off to sleep, the orange glow of the candles having been extinguished long before you’d woken up again. 

As your eyes fluttered open they struggled momentarily to adjust to the darkness surrounding your bed. With the old shutters closed and the candles extinguished it was near impossible to see at first but as your eyes adjusted your enhanced night vision came in handy. All was silent inside now, the rest of your party mates likely fast asleep… the only sounds were the frenzied rushing of the wind against the building and Laios’ light snores in the bed across from you. Even beneath the cover of your sleeping bag, you could feel the cold seeping into your bones. The tufts of fur that littered your body seemed to stand on end in the darkness, prominent goosebumps prickling across your skin 

Something was off, it was colder now. Too cold. You reached out across the gap between your beds, gently shaking Laios's shoulder. His skin was cool to the touch and you couldn’t help but notice the way he was shivering in his sleep. 

“Laios,” you whispered urgently, “wake up.” 

He stirred, breathing slow and heavy. He let out a soft groan as he blinked his eyes open, mirroring your earlier struggle to adjust to the darkness in the room now as his amber eyes searched for you in the blackness. '”What’s going on?” he murmured.

“It’s freezing… something’s wrong.” You explained, tugging your sleeping bag closer around you as if to further prove your point.

“It’s probably just the dungeon’s terrain shifting again,” he replied calmly, rubbing his eyes while his body settled back into consciousness.

A shiver rippled through his body as the chill settled in. This isn’t good, he thought to himself, trying to calculate the situation at hand through the fog of his lingering sleep. Each of the rooms had shuttered windows, so it was likely that the others were fine as well. Considering the rushing sound of the air currents outside it would be safe to assume that there was a significant risk for frostbite out there if left exposed. Staying inside the abandoned structure was certainly the better alternative… but without some sort of external heat source your muscles would easily become stiff and painful at this temperature before long. 

Laios huffed, his breath just barely visible in the dark. So that was it then. He glanced back over to you then, watching as you struggled to properly cocoon yourself in your sleeping bag to stave off the cold for just a little longer.

“We’ll be alright,” He said tenderly with a reassuring smile.

“I’m freezing, and you’re still shivering.” You groaned, clenching your jaw as you tried to keep your teeth from chattering.

He swallowed hard, weighing his options in his mind once more as he considered what he was about to say before he took a deep breath. “We should probably huddle together for warmth then.” Laios said solemnly. In an attempt to calm his racing heart he continued quickly: “Shivering all night in our sleep won’t help with the fatigue, right now our muscles are expanding and contracting really fast to try and generate warmth to compensate for the-”

“Okay,” you interrupted, too tired to keep up with his fast paced facts. 

As you swung your legs off the side of your bed he hesitated before sliding over to make room for you, watching in mild amusement as you shuffled your way across the gap in your sleeping bag before flopping down next to him in the bed. For once he was at a loss for words, not expecting you to take the opportunity so quickly, though he supposed it made sense. Even though you looked more human than beast, he supposed wolves were pack animals, used to close proximity with other members of their pack. Although- he interrupted himself in his mind, that would be dependent upon the particular species of wolf you’d been - his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the groaning of the old wood frame supporting your bodies as it creaked in protest against the added weight before settling again.

This was better, his warmth next to you helping to warm you ever so slightly, but you could still feel the sting of the cold as you laid next to him in your sleeping bag, struggling to get comfortable. Laios found himself hesitating again, although he couldn’t place exactly why. It wasn’t as if he’d never slept in close proximity to someone else. Hell, on this journey alone he’d spent countless nights sandwiched between other members of his party as they slept. 

You didn’t seem to have a problem with it as you squeezed in next to him, but he could still see the way you shivered as you tried to get settled.

“It would, uh… probably be more effective if we combined our body heat.” He muttered, swallowing the lump in his throat once more as he looked away from you. 

Silence stretched out between you for what felt like forever as he felt the familiar claws of self doubt scraping at the back of his mind. He was thankful when you finally put him out of his misery, shooting him an awkward little smile as you spoke: “Yeah, that makes sense… I’m alright with it if you are.”

He nodded firmly, still avoiding your gaze as he helped you get tucked in beneath his sleeping bag. If you noticed the shift in his energy, you didn’t show it as you cuddled up next to him, pressing your back into his side beneath the covers. Laios tried to remain calm as he laid your now empty sleeping bag overtop of his, adding extra insulation for the both of you. The wind whistled outside, the shutters stirring as cold seeped its way in through the cracks in the wood. You were grateful now for the additional heat, it sounded like the storm outside was picking up. 

The tallman let out a sigh, his breath a cloud of fog as he listened to the intensity of the wind outside. He sat up to tuck the edges of the sleeping bag beneath the two of you, ensuring that the cold couldn’t slither in between the two of you. He glanced over at you then in the dark, your soft features just barely visible in the dim light leaking in from the slits in the shutters. A little smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched your ears twitch against the pillow. You looked so comfortable, cute even. 

He pushed the thought aside as he laid back down beside you, his arm resting on the pillow above your head as he attempted to give you a little bit of space.

“I’m glad we found this place,” He commented, his voice a soft murmur above the sound of the rushing wind outside. Despite the chill, the room was calm in comparison to the storm outside. “We’re lucky we didn’t get caught out in that.”

“Mhm…” You hummed in response, already close to falling asleep as you nuzzled against his arm with a sigh.

Laios’ cheeks turned a deeper shade of red beneath the cover of darkness. He could already feel his heart rate picking up again and something about the way he couldn't take his eyes off you suggested it was due to much more than the cold. Here he could feel the way the soft fur of your ears tickled his arm, your bushy tail laid comfortably across his hips. It took every ounce of willpower in his body not to reach out and stroke the soft fur there, wanting to know exactly how the sleek fluff would feel against the roughened skin of his palms. He watched for a moment as your breathing slowed and evened out, realising it would probably be weird of him to watch you sleep. 

So instead he shut his eyes and tried to will his body to follow suit, to relax his stiffened muscles and calm the steady hammering in his chest. You grumbled softly as he tried to pull his arm away to readjust, gripping his forearm lightly as you pulled it back beneath your head. He winced internally. He was trapped now, he didn’t want to fall asleep on his back but would it be weird if he slept facing you? 

It would probably do a better job of keeping you both warm, sure, but why was it so difficult to just go ahead and roll over? His limbs felt heavy, would it be weird if he put his arm around you? If someone walked in would it cause some kind of misunderstanding? He wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with a lecture from Chilchuck on the importance of professionalism in the workplace. 

He lost himself in his thoughts again until he felt another shiver run down across your body. Poor thing, he thought, how were you still cold? He felt like he was burning up but if the cheek pressed against his arm was any indication of your overall body temperature you were still freezing. 

With a sigh he gave in and wrapped his other arm around your waist, maintaining a respectful distance from any of the more intimate areas of your body. 

You relaxed instantly into the touch, pressing back against him and pulling his arms a little closer as you seeked out the warmth. He tried hard not to look at you then, honey coloured eyes searching the ceiling in the darkness once again before he ultimately gave up and tried to close them once again.

It took some time for him to finally settle down enough to start falling asleep again, only to be interrupted by the way your tail started to wag in your sleep. At first he thought it was cute, wondering about what kind of dream you must have been having at that moment. It had to be something good. He’d always wondered what it was his childhood dogs had dreamed about when he caught their tails thumping against the ground where they slept. Briefly, he wondered if it would be rude to ask you in the morning. That was, until you shifted slightly in your sleep and it started to brush against him instead of the bed.

Laios sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth as your appendage brushed against the front of his trousers. He tried to shift his hips away from you only to earn a little groan of protest as he tried to move.

“H-hey, careful where you’re moving that.” He whispered, shakily. 

It was almost shameful how quickly that little motion had him worked up. Having spent so long traversing the dungeon with multiple people in close proximity to monsters… it wasn’t like he had a lot of time to himself. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he tried to squirm away, only for you to grumble and push back against him in your sleep, tail still swishing lightly against his hips. If you didn’t stop soon he might blow a gasket trying to explain the growing bulge pressing into the soft fat of your ass if you woke up, or die of embarrassment, whichever came first.

“C-cut it out.” He hissed, the arm around your waist shifting so he could grip the base of your tail and stop it from rubbing against him further.

The pressure earned a low moan from you in your sleep and he immediately tensed up and froze.

“Ngh… Laios?” You muttered, voice husky with exhaustion as you came to once again.

Shit. His heart leaped in his chest as you began to stir. By now he could hear the rush of his heartbeat hammering away in his chest like the steady beat of a drum. He released his grip on the tail, too embarrassed now to fawn over how soft the fur was there. 

“Y-Yeah, I’m still here” He whispered, his throat dry as he let out another quivering breath. He stayed still then, trying to will you to go back to sleep with his mind so he could turn away and continue to ignore his growing problem in peace.

“What’s wrong?” You mumbled groggily. Even in your half-asleep state, you caught the tremor in his voice. Though you sensed no immediate danger, the wobble in his tone set you on edge. Turning to face him, you inadvertently brushed against him once more.

The moment the soft fur brushed against him again, he couldn't help but twitch as another wave of heat surged through his body. It was all too much, the close proximity and now your warm breaths fanning across his chest, it was too intense. His eyes searched the room in the darkness, avoiding your gaze as he searched for any sort of distraction to calm himself down before you noticed. Sure, it was a natural biological reaction to external stimuli but no amount of logic could spare him the shame that washed over him as he wondered what you might think of him. Your voice ripped him from his spiral once more as you repeated his name. 

Those two syllables had no right to get him as worked up as they did. Your tired voice sending another shiver down his spine as he swallowed nervously. Had his name always sounded that good on your lips?

“Laios?” You repeated, completely oblivious to his predicament until you shifted again and felt the bulge pressing into your thigh.

He winced, bracing himself for whatever it was that might come out of your mouth next. The blond prayed silently to whatever benevolent deity above might listen that you hadn’t noticed anything and he might be able to talk his way out of this somehow and turn away. But it was too late now, the evidence was there for anyone to see- or feel in your case. A soft oh was all you offered to calm his racing mind. Heat rushed into his cheeks as he fumbled for words.

“It’s-” his words broke off as you gently pulled your leg away from him, a soft gasp spilling from his lips as he fought the urge deep within himself to chase the heat in order to satiate the growing need in his abdomen. “I… I’m sorry,” he breathed, pulling away from you and attempting to give you as much space as he could within the confines of your shared sleeping bag after you’d finally let go of him. “I…” He wanted to take the blame but he didn’t know how else to get the explanation out, “you were rubbing against me in your sleep and I tried to get you to stop. I’m so sorry.”

The blush in your cheeks mirrored the knight's as you fought to recall the dream you’d been having prior to getting woken up. You hoped you hadn’t said anything while you dreamt. 

“S-sorry, I must have been dreaming, I didn’t mean to… uh,” you stammered out, looking back at him uneasily.

“It’s okay.” He practically whispered back as he looked away from you. His nerves were set ablaze even further by the intensity of your wide eyed stare. This was pathetic, really, the way those fleeting touches sent his head spinning. The way you’d brushed up against him earlier only served to further ignite the fire inside of him. He closed his eyes then and forced himself to focus on his breathing- anything that would take his mind off of the way you looked at him or the light trail of heat that lingered along his skin from the way you’d touched his body.

“We can pretend this didn’t happen,” you offered, voice trailing off as shame crept into your voice as well. Your ears drooped down against your head in embarrassment, the fur blending in with your hair under what dim lighting the room had to offer.

Even as you tried to push the thought from your mind you couldn’t help but glance down and away from his face at that moment. You didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be with the situation… but you couldn’t fight the curiosity, so tempted to steal a glance at the space between his thighs hidden beneath the covers.

He opened his eyes just in time to catch the way you glanced downward, unable to help the way he was drawn back to you despite the awkwardness of the situation. For a moment he wondered if he’d only imagined it and that subtle unconscious flick of your tongue against your lips. Laios practically bit his tongue to stop himself from asking something he might regret later. He wasn’t going to let one little slip-up ruin the trust that the two of you seemed to be building up so far. 

“Yeah… yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He replied with a halfhearted chuckle.

With the space between your bodies now it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the pent up frustration in his body. The cold was now long forgotten as he focussed on the heat radiating off of you in bed next to him as the storm raged on outside.

“We should probably get back to sleep.” You commented, voice barely audible over the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears. You relaxed slightly, trying to get comfortable in the new position you found yourself in.

The sleeping bags shifted slightly and you pulled them up, your hand brushing against him through the layers of fabric. This third accidental touch was almost enough for his resolve to shatter, a strangled whine releasing from his throat before he could stop it. He tried to compose himself, it was better to just ignore it. In the morning it would be like nothing happened and the two of you could just forget about it as it became nothing more than an awkward memory at the edge of awareness. Something you think about as you’re trying to drift off to sleep and your brain starts tormenting you with humiliating memories. 

You swallowed thickly, now trying to calm yourself down in tandem with Laios as goosebumps prickled along your skin for another reason now. Something in you was begging to hear that noise again.

It was better to remain professional about this though, and you both knew that. Even as he wrestled with the urge to grab hold of you and pull you in for a kiss, even though he wanted so badly to know just how you’d taste- fuck. He didn’t want to embarrass himself any more than he already had. So instead of giving in, he bit the inside of his cheek and turned away from you then, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to ignore the ache as his erection pressed into the coarse fabric of his pants with every ragged breath that he took.

Unbeknownst to him you were fighting the exact same demons mere inches away. The air had grown thick between you, almost heavy with the weight of the tension in it. There was a long moment of hesitation before you pressed lightly into his back. Huddling together for warmth now seemed to be a blessing and a curse. 

Your shallow breaths against the nape of his neck were driving him crazy, the warm air ghosting across his skin a stark contrast to the chill in the room around you. It had a cascading effect on his senses. Goosebumps rose against the skin of his broad shoulders beneath his shirt and down his arms. He shifted slightly, biting back another hiss when his clothes rubbed against him. You could feel the tension of the muscles in his back rippling beneath his shirt, his breath coming out in shallow huffs. Your sensitive hearing easily picked up on the way his breathing shook. 

Fuck it, you thought quickly. This was all too much. If it all went south, in the worst case scenario you were almost certain that you could find your way back to the surface yourself somehow or die trying. If the sting of rejection came after what you said next you would find it within yourself to push it down and accept it. Neither of you could stew in this awkward limbo state any longer. 

“I… if you need help getting back to sleep,” you started, your voice tickling against the hair at the nape of his neck when you spoke, “I could uh… help you out…” you offered, voice trailing off at the end as you started to rethink your words. But it was too late now, and the proposition was out in the open.

Laios stilled completely at your words, his body tensing up even further when the offer dangled between you. He wasn’t sure it would be wise to accept, if he even could accept it at first. Part of him wasn’t even sure he’d heard you correctly, were you really offering what his mind wanted to believe that you were?

After a moment of stunned silence, he rolled back around to face you. Even in the dark you could see the pupils of his honeyed eyes were blown wide with lust. 

“Are you sure?” He asked quietly, searching your eyes for any hint of hesitation or reservation.

Your body acted before you were aware of it, lightly pressing closer against him beneath the covers of the sleeping bags but still resisting the urge to touch him intimately before you heard his answer. 

“If you’re comfortable with it,” you replied, tone still hushed beneath the cries of the storm outside, “and if you want me to.”

He hesitated as he weighed his options in his mind. His will was stronger than most, but his resolve in that moment had worn paper thin. As your sweet voice beckoned him he took in the softness of your features, those cute little ears twitching above your head as you waited for his response… How could he resist? 

“...I would like that.” The blond murmured sheepishly, his voice almost catching in his throat as he melted into you where your skin pressed against his.

You let out a breath of relief, your shoulders relaxing then as you slid your hand down between you. He inhaled sharply when your palm pressed itself against the heat in the front of his trousers and you could feel the way he pulsed beneath you in response to the touch. Skilled fingers slid gently along the length of his cock through the fabric as he bit the inside of his cheek. 

Your eyes widened slightly, a light gasp breaking the silence from you as you felt the less than humble girth between his hips. 

His body reacted involuntarily to the touch, leaning into it slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment once more. Everything else had already begun to fade away as he focussed on the warmth of your palm against him, the length straining desperately against the cloth. Fingers rubbed slowly against the outside of the rough fabric before your hand gently squeezed around the tallman’s cock and earned another shuddering breath from him.

Hazy lust filled eyes focussed on the fluffy ears atop your head, too shy to look down at your face as he trembled beneath your touch. His hands balled into fists as you began to massage his shaft, brows knitting together as he fought to hold in a moan. He wanted to touch you so badly, your skin beckoning to him like a siren's song as he leaned into your touch.

The way he pulsed against every little flick and drag of your fingers had your mouth watering in anticipation. Still, you wanted to see him relax, your hand sliding up and down slowly against his length. 

The simple friction of your palm against him shouldn’t have sent him into the tailspin that it did, his hips beginning to shift instinctively against your touch. The slow massage of your grip against him only served to make his body ache even more. Laios finally started to let go, a low moan reverberating out against the night air.

“There we go…” you sighed, lightly squeezing him through his pants once more in appreciation.

As he began to give in fully to the pleasure you were giving him the sounds he made were nothing short of heavenly. Whimpers and whines began to slip out more frequently as you touched him now. His hips rocked against you as the slow strokes of your hands stoked the flames of need within him.

You were acutely aware now more than ever of the close proximity, your lips mere inches apart as you started to fully stroke him through his pants. As much as you wanted to tease him more, it was plain as day on his face that he needed this, and you certainly couldn't say no. Silently, you cursed the fabric that hid his body from view.

He couldn’t help but thrust his hips up against your grasp, letting out another soft whine as a similar thought crossed his mind. He needed more contact, the saccharine sound of your coos coupled with the sensation of your hand rubbing his cock through his pants was only making him more desperate as another whine escaped him.

Slowly, your fingers trailed up the front of his pants, earning a disappointed little huff from your comrade at the loss of your touch. Your breaths trembled as your hand came to rest at the closure on the front of his pants.

Your eyes searched for him in the darkness, looking into his with sincerity as you breathed out a soft “May I?”

“God, yes. ” He whined out.

Even if he wanted to he couldn’t have kept the desperation out of his voice if he tried. It was more than enough to have your hands undoing the fastening on his pants with ease. His hips lifted up off the bed so you could help him shimmy out of the garments just enough. 

His cock sprung free from the restrictive fabric and he let out a contented sigh of relief. It twitched in your hands, earning a soft hum from you as you wrapped your fingers around the base of his shaft.

The sudden release felt like heaven, he couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through his body as you began to stroke him again. That delicious drag of your hand against him, skin finally on skin. Your touch was gentle though, it made him want to press forward even more, his hips bucking up against your grip as a low moan ripped from his throat again. The touch was akin to a jolt of electricity through his system and as he stole another glance down at your pretty face he couldn’t help but admit to himself that perhaps it was more than the friction that had gotten him worked up. 

You lifted your hand and spat gently into it before reaching back down and spreading the warm slick against his length. His breath hitched at the new sensation, his chest heaving slightly with every breath he took. 

You sighed happily as you felt another grateful pulse beneath your grip. Your thumb swiped lightly over the bead of pre-cum that drooled out of the needy pink tip of his cock while you began to pump him slowly. Hot breath fanned against his neck, your gaze flickering back up to his handsome face. If Laios noticed the way your eyes glanced down to his parted lips, he didn't show it. He was too engrossed in the almost torturous pace you’d set for him. 

Every instinct within him screamed for you to pick up the pace, to hurry up and relieve the tension building up in his body as your grip tightened around his shaft. He let out a groan, knowing that in actuality he wouldn’t dare try and rush you, wanting to hang on to the intoxicating feeling of this intimate moment for as long as he possibly could.

“Can I kiss you?” He whimpered out, looking down at you with a pitiful expression on his flushed face.

He’d hardly had to finish his sentence before your lips were on his, eagerly swallowing his moans while you jerked him off under the covers. The noise you made was somewhere between a moan and a growl, your sharp canines grazing against his lips while your free hand moved up to grip the mess of short blonde hair at the nape of his neck.

Your kiss was returned eagerly, his eyes fluttering shut as he basked in the perfect taste of your lips. The low hum of Laios’ moans vibrated up from deep within his chest while his hips bucked lazily with every pump of your fist against him. When you finally broke apart he was panting and whining as he thrusted up into your hand.

“You’re so handsome like this,” you purred, pressing kisses against his jaw before he needily pulled you back into him for another hungry kiss.

One of his strong hands tangled its fingers in the locks of your messy hair, the tips of his digits gently putting pressure on your scalp as he kissed you with newfound passion. His cheeks burned at your compliment, unable to keep from giving in. He would proudly drink up every ounce of pleasure you were offering him. You returned the kiss full force, every flick of your wrist dragging more of those beautiful sounds from his lips.

Laios had always found himself weak in the knees whenever you’d compliment him, but he’d done his best to ignore it for the sake of the mission. Your kind words had such an effect on him but right now your praise felt like so much more. Something about the way you pressed into him, your fingers grasping at his hair, soft lips on his, it made him want nothing more than to hear what sort of sounds you might make beneath him instead.

As if on cue, his fingers grazed lightly against the base of your ears, earning a whimper against his lips as you kissed. The soft fur was just as incredible beneath his fingertips as he imagined. He'd wanted to feel those cute little wolf ears from the moment he'd laid eyes on them and now was the perfect opportunity. It was his turn to make you weak in the knees, the comfortable intimacy of the touch had every thought melting out of your mind.

At your moans he couldn’t help but thrust a little harder into your fist. But you slowed down, the slick strokes of your palm all but stopping as your fist tightened around the base of his shaft.

Selfishly, you wanted to drag this out for as long as you could, to milk this moment for everything that it was worth while moans tangled together between you two. His tongue dipped past your soft lips, sinking into your mouth and running along yours as he continued to play with your ears.

You found yourself pressing your thighs together, hips shifting as arousal pooled within you, a futile attempt to get some sort of friction against where you needed it most. The taste of his lips against yours was almost enough on its own to have your eyes rolling back into your head. But the way his fingers teased and tugged at your sensitive ears had your mind swirling with lust as your thumb swept across the crown of his cock once more, smearing precum and saliva against the heated skin.

He groaned again at your teasing, breaking the kiss with a pant as he rutted up into your fist. His head was spinning from the way you touched him, all five of his senses on fire. The way your hand squeezed around his cock, your soft lips on his, those cute expressions when he played with your ears, after having gone so long without a moment to relieve himself it was almost too much and not enough all at the same time. He could feel the soft triangles of nerves and fur twitching and tensing beneath his hand, your whimpers against his mouth were already getting desperate.He needed more of you, more of those sweet sounds you were giving him.

“Please,” you begged, the word leaving your lips like a prayer before you’d realised what you were even saying. The storm didn’t matter anymore, the only pressing issue was the burning desire that threatened to consume you both in an instant. Your grip stiffened around him then as he fucked your hand lazily.

He couldn’t help the lusty moan that drawled out of him when you tightened up. Laios could only hope that the cover of darkness hid how shameless he looked then, adorned by your touch. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus with what you were doing to him. He could hardly keep his composure as your name left his mouth in another desperate whine. The pleasure zipped its way up his spine as his head fell back against the pillows again, eyes fluttering shut.

A strong hand wrapped around your waist, practically pulling you on top of him. His mouth hung open, lips parted to let out the needy sighs and whines that spilled out as his brows knit together.

He looked like the most delectably sinful work of art you’d ever laid eyes on, every marble statue and delicate oil painting paling in comparison. It was difficult not to feel giddy at the fact that you were the only one who got to see such a beautiful sight.

You couldn’t help yourself but to lean down and press kisses along the exposed skin of his neck, canines lightly brushing against the sensitive spots on his neck while you lightly nipped and sucked at his pale flesh.

He could hardly keep his composure, more desperate whimpers leaving his mouth as he was consumed by desire. His heart pounded in his chest like the beat of a drum when you finally straddled him, soft thighs splayed open across his as you worked his cock.

His hand gripped your hips with a newfound possessiveness. The warmth of your body pressed against him had him completely drunk on lust and the throbbing between his legs that you’d been skillfully building up with every little flick of your wrist was becoming unbearable.

Laios couldn’t stop himself from rutting up against you, his cock rubbing up against your crotch as he held you down against his body. A shudder wracked through him when he felt the tip rub against your heat through the layers of fabric that separated you two. 

He let out a soft curse at the feeling, your warmth only teasing him more as you let out a little cry of pleasure. Your hips jolted forwards against him involuntarily, searching for a little more pressure when he bumped against you. 

“Ah…” You sighed, your grip on his length slipping when he shuddered beneath you.

The little mewls you were already starting to let out as you ground against him were more compelling than any siren’s call. His hips jutted forward again as he started to thrust against you in time with the tantalising roll of your hips. The way your body moved on top of him was hypnotising. If there was a heaven, this is what it must have felt like. He needed to get his hands on your skin, to make you feel even half the pleasure you were giving him. His breathing was growing haggard as he fought the urge to rip your shorts in half just so he could have you right then and there. 

“Hah, please, ” he panted, “please, can I touch you?” The way his golden eyes stared up at you, wide and pleading, would have been enough on its own to have your heart racing.

Your eyes were half lidded as you looked down at him, your tail swishing lightly across his thighs in anticipation. Pride swelled in your chest at the mess you’d reduced him to in just a few short minutes, though you were no better.

“Please.” You echoed, proving your desire with another needy roll of your hips against his length.

Your gorgeous form settled prettily in his lap, eagerly awaiting his next move. Gods above, he would do anything for you. 

The tallman’s breath hitched in his throat at your plea, his mouth drying up when he looked up into your eyes. His hands trembled lightly against your thighs as he moved to hook his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. 

“Are you sure?” He stammered out.

Once this line was crossed it could never be uncrossed, there would be no going back. Hell, he didn’t think he wanted to. If he could lay with you every night for the rest of his life he’d die satisfied. Thankfully for him, your reassurance was all he needed to let loose.

“I need you.” You breathed.

The intoxicating drag of his length against your clothed warmth had you both tensing up with the desire for more. You craved him like you’d never craved another’s touch before, the burning ache within you would be satisfied with nothing more than being filled by his girth. 

Simultaneously, at your needy whines he found himself on the verge of losing control, his hips grinding up against you with a little more force before he finally pulled the garments off of you. His knuckles white as he clenched the fabrics in his hand and discarded them beside himself on the bed. The pressure, the lust, all of it was too much.

His strong hands grasped your hips again for a moment as he stared at you in awe, the soft tufts of fur on your body perfectly framing your heat. If it had been any other time and place he’d have had you on your back beneath him in seconds, diving his face between your thighs just to get a taste of what you had to offer. The slick glint of your own arousal shone slightly in the dim lighting, he’d have to wait for another time if he got the chance. Right now he needed this.

One hand slid between your thighs to stroke you gently, his gaze laser focussed on the way you twitched and trembled beneath his touch. The sweet sound of your moans filled his ears and he couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted you up again, aligning his cock with your entrance before slipping inside. Laios didn’t want to waste a second longer without your skin against his.

The head of his cock split you open with ease and had you whimpering at the sting of the stretch while you sunk down on him. Thighs tensed as you sucked his tip inside of you, sending his eyes rolling back into his head.

You groaned, “sh-shit… ah.. S’too big..” You whined.

Despite your protest, he watched as you circled your hips above him, wanting more of that painful pleasure as you bounced slightly in his lap. Silently, you begged your body to get used to the feeling, but on the other hand you didn’t think you ever could… hell, maybe you didn’t want to. The burn of his size was delicious in its own way.

“Mmm-ngh!” He grunted, the tips of his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. His nails threatened to bite into the skin there as he tried hard not to buck his hips up into you. As much as his body craved the feeling of bottoming out inside you he refused to cause you any further discomfort. 

“Fu-huhhck.. It’ll… it’ll get easier, I promise.” Laios cooed, reaching a hand down to stroke you again to ease the pain.

Your head lolled back against your shoulder as you tried to take him deeper, the ridge of his cockhead sinking in past the first ring of muscle when you began to relax for him. The whimpers and groans already leaving your mouth had goosebumps rising against his pale flesh again as his own whines trembled past his lips. His dick pulsed inside of you, sending more fluid leaking out against where you were connected.

“Oh my god,” You groaned, feeling his precum mixing with yours and dripping down the inside of your thighs. 

His breaths were ragged as he tried to maintain his composure for your sake, but all was lost as soon as you commented on the way he twitched inside of you. With a grunt, he let his hips surge forward the slightest bit, sinking deeper inside. The knowledge that his cock was leaking inside of you, that you could feel every twitch and every pulse of his veins in your heat, it stirred something primal within him. His fingers tensed against you while he fought the urge to rut up into you like an animal.

Suddenly, your hand joined his in stroking yourself, fingers teasing the engorged area of your arousal. His eyes were glued to you then, watching the way you struggled to take him. Your hips rolled up and down against the first few inches, trying to take just a little bit more.

“That’s right..” he panted, watching with half lidded eyes as you touched yourself above him. His voice was a low purr against your eardrums, his thumb rubbing little comforting circles into your hip as he drank in the beautiful sight before him. “You can take it… you’re already doing so well, just a little more, yeah?”

You nodded, cheeks burning at the praise as another inch sunk inside.

Laios' eyes darkened with a fierce hunger as he watched you work your fingers against your slick heat. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your shallow thrusting blended with the heavy symphony of breathless moans and urgent whimpers filling the room. The old wooden bedframe groaned beneath your intertwined bodies, each creak adding a raw, primal beat to the music of your desire.

It was all music to his ears. His pupils were blown wide, gaze locked on where you straddled him, lost in the sight of you. The scorching, tight sensation of your walls squeezing around him erased all coherent thought, leaving only a primal urge to fill you completely. 

Barely three inches deep inside you, he was on the edge of sanity, teetering on the brink of losing control with every subtle shift and grind of your hips. Each tiny movement had him mesmerised, but when you whimpered his name with a desperate cry, he gasped, watching you sink further down on his cock. Every little movement you made had his gaze transfixed on you.

Your hands clenched into tight fists against the coarse fabric at the hem of his shirt, the material now messily bunched up around his waist. The friction of the cloth against your skin only heightened the intensity, adding another layer of sensation to the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through both of you.

His abdomen tensed and flexed beneath your hands as he held himself back. He gasped and shuddered, your body taking him so well as you practically sucked him in. Jaw clenched tight, he let out a soft groan of your name. For a brief moment his eyes squeezed shut, his needy whines only serving to further your attempts to take him all the way. The cold air of the room stung his skin where it touched him, heightening the sensation of your warm body pressed against his.

You were a whining mess already, the mixture of pain and pleasure going straight to your groin when you finally took him all the way down to the hilt. The slight curve of his dick had the head pressing firmly against the spot inside you that made your knees weak. He was finally sheathed inside you, pulsing and twitching like a live wire. Ironically, he was the one who wanted to start pounding into you like a dog in heat. His eyes rolled back again as he let out a guttural moan, the sound rippling up from somewhere deep in his chest. Laios wanted to stay composed, to keep himself in check… but the excitement coursing through his body had rendered him helpless against his own desires as he began to bounce you up and down in his lap. 

The way he said your name echoed inside your head, somewhere between a plea for more and a low groan that rolled off the tip of his tongue. Your hands shook against the fabric of his shirt, your back arching overtop of him as you tried to catch your breath, a blessing he wouldn’t allow you as he bucked into you.

“Oh my god,” his voice was breathless. “Fff… ah- ‘m sorry,” He whined, the friction sending a ripple of ecstasy down his spine. 

His grip tightened on your hips, holding you tightly against his pelvis. That brief moment of weakness had earned a wanton cry of pleasure from your lips. He let another shaking breath out, trying to compose himself, he was reminded of the way your face contorted when he pushed inside. His eyes shut again as he took a deep breath.

Once the initial shock wore off for you it was heavenly. The sound of his ragged pants and whines egging you on as you started to move against him, fighting the urge to melt into his body at the pleasure. Your legs were quivering now as he thrusted up against you again, trying with all your might to keep enough of a level head to move back down against him.

One of his hands reached down to massage your thigh as he cooed soft praises up at you. When you’d started to move all bets were off, his hips thrusting up eagerly to meet your movements while his other hand held your hips possessively. The slow rhythm you’d set was perfect, but he needed more . 

“‘S’okay, right?” he huffed out, looking up at you with what could only be described as adoration. He wanted you to enjoy this just as much as he did.

All you could manage was a hurried nod and a whimper.

“That’s it… yeah,” He groaned, watching as you held onto him for dear life. 

Your features contorted in ecstasy as he began to roll up against you, his shallow thrusts helping to establish that slow rhythm between you for the time being.

That smooth voice had you clenching around him, body shivering. The wind rushed by outside and fell on deaf ears, the only thing that mattered to either of you right then was this perfect moment. Your body spread open on his dick while he fucked you gently. 

“So good,” he babbled, mostly to himself as his head fell back against the pillows. “Oh my god,” Laios groaned, his words punctuated by the slow, steady roll of his hips up against you as he ground his cock against that sensitive spot inside you. 

Another cry of pleasure left your throat, the sound hanging in the open air between you as you began to slide yourself up and down along his length. His words had you dizzy, already drunk on his touch as your legs shook on either side of him. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to maintain a steady rhythm, but the continuous drag against your sweet spot had your eyes glazing over and he wasn’t about to stop any time soon. When another cry of his name left your lips he groaned again. The sound was smooth and hoarse all at the same time, his hands tensing on your hips.

Your body was practically milking him already while you rode him. In a perfect world he could go on like this all night, just laying back and letting you take control… but he could see the fatigue in your movements. Your eyebrows knit together, hands shaking against his abs. Any semblance of modesty or bashfulness had left him as the hands that had rested on your hips slipped below you to grip the fat of your ass with a grunt. 

In an instant your back was flush against the bed, hips pinned down by his capable hands. 

Laios aligned himself with your entrance once more, pushing himself in all the way to the hilt in one fluid motion as he kissed your cheeks to soothe the ache of the stretch. A hand pressed against his cheek, golden eyes looking lovingly into your own as he smiled down at you.

“I can take it from here, okay?” His voice was soft right before he pressed another kiss against your forehead. He had you pinned beneath him as he littered kisses across your heated skin. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back like this, not for long anyway.

“Ngh… o-off,” you whimpered, your fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. If he was going to fuck you like this you wanted to see it all, every tense and flex of his thick muscles above you until the image was locked in your brain. “I wanna see you.” 

There was a moment of hesitation at your plea, Laios taking in the gentle tone and the way your ears laid flat against the top of your head as you begged so cutely underneath him. He’d never felt so wanted in his life, and the way you clung to him had him half convinced this might have been some sort of dream. Nonetheless he’d shed his shirt in an instant immediately afterwards, his sturdy frame on full display for you now as he sat back up between your thighs.

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest as you watched him pull his shirt off over his head. Your eyes greedily drank in the sight before you, the way his bare chest heaved with every shaking breath, his abdominal muscles tensing beneath his skin as he rocked back into you. He couldn’t help the smile on his lips when he caught you staring.

His lips were on yours then, capturing them in another hungry kiss as he began to thrust into you with long, slow strokes. Your legs squeezed against his hips, tongues tangling together in an intricate dance to the beat of a song only the two of you could hear. 

Soft fingers pressed into the firm flesh spanning his broad shoulders as you whined into the kiss.

Laios practically growled then, something snapping inside of him when he felt the way your tail flicked against the side of his leg in approval. His head buried itself in the crook of your neck as he began to pick up the pace, grinding himself down against your tight heat.

Creaks and moans filled the room now, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin coming in to join the chorus. Your arousal and pre-cum dripped between the two of you, the viscous translucent fluids stretching between your bodies and connecting the two of you in strings every time he began to pull back. The room was heavy with the scent of sex, all initial reservations forgotten as he slammed into you.

“Ah!” You gasped, claws biting into the skin of his back accidentally when he rammed into the spot that had your vision blurring again.

“Fuck!” He growled again, his teeth scraping against your shoulder in retaliation. “You’re so fucking hot… taking me so well.” 

You practically squealed beneath him, body clenching around his cock with a grip that threatened to make him cum on the spot. The headboard banged against the wall with the force of his thrusts, his grip on you tightening possessively. All you could do was gasp and whimper beneath him as you tried to keep yourself coherent.

The way he fucked you was animalistic, his hips grinding down against you just enough to rub at your arousal trapped between your bodies. Sweat began to bead on his brow as he lost control, those primal urges within him flooding to the surface as he rutted into you.

Your body tensed and shook under him as he used his grip on your hips to deepen his thrusts. His usual soft amber eyes looked more golden, more wolf like than your own as he looked down at you.

Laios grunted as he rolled forwards against you again and sent your claws dragging against his back. You clung to him desperately, this carnal need worse than any heat you’d ever gone through. He had you panting and gasping with the force of his relentless thrusts, the bed creaking and slamming against the wall as you both lost control.

“Fuck, fuck, please! D-don’t stop” you sobbed out.

He didn’t think it was possible for your body to grip him any tighter but every time he pulled out it felt like you were sucking him back in.

He growled in response, his hand reaching down to stroke you in time with his relentless thrusts as he felt the tension starting to build in his abdomen. Your cute little squeaks and whines went straight to his cock. He couldn’t form a proper sentence if he tried.

You were babbling now, begging for more as you started to come undone around him. The perfect arch of your back off the bed pressed you even tighter against his body and he took it upon himself to hold you there as he fucked you through your orgasm.

It had you seeing white, a sob of pleasure wracked your body. Thighs clenched around his hips, your moans shaking. The blond watched as you came, your head lolling back against your shoulders in post orgasmic bliss. He savoured the way your body tightened around him.

His fingernails dug into your hips as he pistoned into you. “C-close…” He grunted into your neck.

In your bliss, you begged him to finish inside. The debauched whimpers setting his nerves on edge and his pulse skyrocketing. Your pleas filling his head as he ground against your already overstimulated heat. Your cum dribbled down against his skin as he pinned you back down, growling into your neck as he reached his peak with a loud curse. The sound was muffled by your soft flesh against his lips and teeth as he shuddered above you. His hips jutted forward and slammed you against the bed as you milked him for everything he was worth, his cock twitching and sputtering inside you.

“Ngh! Fuck…” He whined. His hands rubbed lightly against your sides, lightly squeezing your ass one more time as he stayed inside.

“Hah,” you chuckled tiredly, lightly stroking along the marks you’d left on his back. “I knew you were pent up but I didn’t realise you were that pent up,” you teased, turning your head to the side so you could kiss his jaw.

“‘S not my fault,” He whined, nuzzling further into your neck. After all, how could it be his fault alone when you had him so wound up he could barely think straight? 

This earned a little giggle from you as he rolled off of you, coming to rest at your side in the bed. The wind had calmed outside, the musty scent of the old room long replaced with the stench of arousal and sweat. A part of him couldn’t believe what you’d just done, and in a dungeon no less…

The sight of you blissed out next to him was enough to make him forget his lamentations entirely. Your soft ears tickled his jaw as you nuzzled closer, arms clinging to him as fatigue took over again. He reached down and pulled the sleeping bags back up over you, not wanting to risk the cold creeping back in again.

“You’re so cute like this,” He smiled, the fingers of his free hand gently running up through your hair to stroke your ears lightly.

“Ngh… n-no, shut up,” You whined.

It was a weak line and it was obvious you didn’t mean it. Even Laios could have told you that from your tone alone, but the way your tail wagged against your side of the bed had him beaming. 

“Hey, I mean it,” He murmured, his hands tracing lightly against your skin and the soft patches of fur on it.

You kept hiding your face regardless, embarrassed by the compliment. Your lips pressed gently against his shoulders, peppering kisses there in a silent apology for the claw marks as exhaustion crept into your bones. 

“You’re gorgeous.” He whispered, leaning down and to plant a soft kiss against the dewy skin of your forehead. He took it one step further and reached over to lightly stroke your tail. His golden eyes were half lidded now and filled with all the adoration in the world as he looked down at you. 

“We should get back to sleep,” you sighed, melting into the way he stroked your hair. 

Even just mere hours ago he couldn’t imagine having you this at ease and relaxed in his arms. He gently adjusted himself so he was curled around you too, your limbs tangled together as you drifted off to sleep.

[venomhoundfanworks]

Hazbin Hotel - Signs they Got a Crush

Dumb headcanons about ways you can tell Alastor, Charlie, Angel Dust, and Lucifer have a crush. Why this super specific lineup? Because my goat brain said so.

My other work can be found on my masterlist >>HERE<<

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; Valentino mention; nothing else just tons of fluff Actual diabetes brainrot below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

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Alastor ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

NOTE: Gonna out myself here. I was the anon who put >>this ask<< into @6esiree's inbox. So if you notice my wording in here sounds familiar, thats why. Both idea were wrought from the same horrid brain

I know I've said it before, but this man is an enigma. Its very hard to distinguish if he 'just friend' likes you or if he 'like likes' you. From your perspective (and most people's perspective to be honest), you'll probably think he simply views you as a close friend.

The biggest cue that Alastor's feelings towards you have changed are his eyes. His eyes don't soften or anything like that, oh no. He just starts staring at you. All the time. You could literally be standing across the room and his eyes will still be glued to you.

Alastor starts studying you. Noticing all your tics, quirks, and body movements. Its actually quite uncanny how well he is able to track you with his gaze. You sometimes feel as if the man is hunting you.

Unfortunately, other then the whole 'staring at you like Mr. Darcy thing', Alastor has no 'big' tells. They are much more subtle.

Alastor's humor around you takes a weird shift. Not one your likely to notice, but its a shift nonetheless. Alastor's jokes/quips are normally fired out like shotgun blasts, hitting everyone and anyone. No one is safe from his sardonic humor.

But once he starts taking a liking to you, you strangely become exempt from his more piercing jokes. Don't get me wrong, he still jokes around you, its just more playful in tone rather then cutting.

Alastor will also start targeting specific people you dislike, or he will start using brand of humor that gets you to laugh. People will probably brush this behavior off as simply Alastor being an asshole. But its really because he is trying to get a reaction out of you. Alastor loves your laugh and feels a weird sense of pride when he gets you giggling.

Another subtle shift that happens is Alastor gets more... musical? I'm not sure how to put it exactly. Alastor is already fond of song and dance as it is. But when he has the love bug, Alastor starts humming to himself, he has music playing all the time, and he bursts into dance more frequently. His overall energy is just up.

What throws people off with this, is that Alastor's musical energy doesn't appear to be directed at anyone is particular. So true, he may be dancing more, but the guy will dance with whoever is available for him to swing around at the time. Its not a 'will only dance with you and when your around' thing.

If Alastor's feelings for you get too strong, and/or he has been repressing them for a long time, its going to start coming out in a new... strange way. His shadows will start behaving differently.

Alastor's shadows will start acting more independent of their master and being... gentle with you. Kind. They'll smile and wave to you behind his back, help you find things if you've lost something, or even leave you weird gifts.

There was even an incident where you were half sleeping on one of the couches in the hotel parlor. You vaguely registered Alastor walk by, before you felt the cold hands of one of his shadows pull a nearby blanket over you and tuck you in.

Alastor wont even be aware of this when it starts happening. And god forbid he finds out...

SUMMERY: 🦌 Will not. Stop. Staring at you. 🦌 His humor around you changes. Becomes more playful and interested in making you laugh 🦌 His love for music presents itself more; always ends up humming, singing, or dancing 🦌 If things go on too long, his shadows will start giving away his true feelings

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Charlie ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Charlie is a complete mess when she starts crushing on someone. Its not subtle, and its not pretty. You can blame her inability to handle her own emotions on her parents and their broken marriage to be honest. As a double whammy; Charlie absolutely takes after Lucifer in the Disaster Bisexual™ department. So she is already starting on the wrong foot here (buh dum tsh).

The ""Princess"" of Hell loses any sense of grace, balance, or concept of gravity. Charlie constantly has to have her eyes on you, which results in her not paying attention to where the fuck her limbs are at any given moment.

So she knocks things over while making big gestures, knocks things out of her own hands, walks into the doorframe, trips over herself, trips over nothing... you get the idea. Clutz meter is dialed up to 1000%. Please don't put her near anything fragile because it will be broken.

As is normal with crushes, you want to get to know about them, right? Well, Charlie knows, theoretically, that in order to get to know her crush and actually have a chance of something happening between them, she has to talk to them. However. Charlie is so nervous that she ends up talking their ear off instead.

Its strangely adorable. Charlie will go and seek her crush out, then just start rambling. The funniest part, is she always realizes when she does it too. Charlie will get super embarrassed and start apologizing profusely after realizing she went on the most random tangent about frogs for 5 solid minutes and didn't even let you get a word in

Silence is absolutely deafening to her. Charlie is incredibly anxious and tries so hard not to think about things too much because she will overthink it and start freaking out. So she just immediately fills any gaps in conversation with her own voice.

Also (much like Alastor), Charlie's energy goes way up when she gets a crush. She hums to herself, prances around, and sings even more then usual. The girl literally stops walking like a normal person, now opting to skip around and do little twirls.

If Charlie isnt dancing around and singing like a Disney princess, then she is drawing something. She always has a pencil in her hand (which is a WEAPON considering how much she falls over). Charlie will scribble down the most random ideas she has and illustrate them. All so she can talk to you about them in detail later.

Going back to taking after her dad; Charlie will pamper the heck out of you in the pre-dating stage. Although, inadvertently. She really wants to impress you, so she ends up going overboard instead.

You say that your hungry; Charlie grabs you by the arm and is dragging you to a 5 star restaurant. Your phone breaks; Charlie buys you a brand new one, and it already has her number in it. Heck, you could just ask her for a glass of water and Charlie would give you a entire goblet of fancy lemon water.

Charlie excuses all this under a thin veil of 'need'. Oh, you need to eat. You need a new phone to to be able to contact people. You need to drink. That's the weird logic she uses in her head of why she is getting you all this stuff. She is helping someone in need.

Of course, this neglects the full picture. You could have just eaten some chips, you didn't need steak at Hell's fanciest restaurant.

SUMMERY: 🌈 Gets two left feet. Trips and falls over herself constantly 🌈 Talks talks talks talks talkstalkstalks 🌈 Creative energy goes through the roof; sings, dances, and draws for you 🌈 Anything you need, Charlie will get you. Only its the 100x luxury version of what you needed

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Angel Dust ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Hot take, but Angel Dust is just as much of an enigma as Alastor is. Unlike Alastor, however, Angel actually does something about his feelings. He just... is super confusing about it.

You know how Angel flirts with everyone? Yeah, everyone except you. For once, Angel isnt interested in sex for sex sake. No, he wants more then that. The only way he knows to try and communicate that is to... not... flirt with you.

Since flirt mode is Angel's default mode, and he rarely turns it off, he gets stiff and awkward when interacting with you. His overall tone shifts to weirdly formal. Instead of using one of his trademark nicknames or a petname, Angel just straight up uses your actual name.

Its especially jarring when there are people like Charlie or Lucifer in the room. You know, royalty. People with actual status. Angel will throw a 'heya toots' at Charlie and a 'short king' at Lucifer, then he turns to you and uses your full name. Gives everyone in the room whiplash.

Your guaranteed to feel singled out if not insulted at first. But I promise, its the spider's attempt at showing he respects you and that your different to him by going a little too overboard with it.

Angel also starts wanting to show you everything the nightlife Pentagram City has to offer. The good and bad. Angel knows all the clubs and bars like the back of his hand, so he knows exactly where to take you.

Every single night, Angel Dust makes plans for you two or just spontaneously drags you out with him. He invites you to come bar hopping with him and Cherri, he takes you out dancing to one of his favorite nightclubs, Angel even lets you know what sex clubs are good and which ones to steer the hell clear from.

Angel is very careful to keep you as far away from Valentino as he can though. Not only for your protection, but the whole situation with his work and boss is a can of worms that he would rather you not get involved in. At all.

Angel might come across as a bit neurotic because of this whole Valentino wild card thrown into the mix of things. Angel will be taking you to a club, get word that Val is there, then start speeding you to a different one across town. Or you two will have plans, then Angel will just completely drop or change them so you don't end up running into the moth.

Since Angel is taking you everywhere and lowkey showing you off to everyone, he also starts getting super invested in your appearance. Especially if your insecure or haven't really dipped your toes in the nightlife before.

Angel offers to do your makeup before you two go out and gets incredibly giddy if you accept. Angel will then doll you up, making your makeup match his, and play it off as twining.

This doesn't stay to just makeup either. Angel loves to take you out shopping and will get you both matching or themed outfits. He absolutely LOVES it, and several people have assumed you two were already dating because of how well your outfits were coordinated.

SUMMERY: 🕸️ Counterintuitively gets less flirty and stiff; awkwardly uses your actual name and not a nickname 🕸️ Takes you out on the town; just wants to go out and have fun with you 🕸️ Becomes protective of you against Valentino. Purposely makes sure your not in locations he is and just stay the hell away from him 🕸️ Coordinates/matches his outfits and makeup to yours

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Lucifer ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Not subtle. At all. His crush is just a flashing neon light to everyone that even remotely knows him. However, because the subject of his affections presumably doesn't know him that well (if at all), Lucifer easily can come across as just being a goddamn weirdo. That is, if he doesn't end up making the person think he straight up dislikes them instead.

Lucifer gets so caught up in his own head that he cant actually interact with you to save his life. He is stuttering, weird noises are coming out of his mouth, some words are being hissed rather then spoken, and his brain to mouth filter is fucking busted.

So yeah. Even if you take out the fact that his mouth isnt working right; every other word in his sentences is actually wrong and he is just saying dumb shit. Complete disaster.

This results in Lucifer avoiding interacting with you. At least directly. He knows he is going to mess it up super bad so he tries to keep it to group settings so he can still be around you, but not look like a total idiot. Lucifer also does that thing where he will actually be talking to you, but doing it through a third party so he doesn't completely freak out and mess up his words.

On the off chance you two do interact alone, it always ends up with Lucifer apologizing. You will accidentally turn a corner, bump into him, and Lucifer is the one apologizing somehow. You could probably drop a cinderblock on the guy's foot and Lucifer would still be like 'I'm sorry my foot was in your way'.

Just because Lucifer cant... talk to you like a normal person doesn't mean he doesn't want your attention. Oh no. He wants all your attention.

This is where the 'Sin of Pride' really shows. If Lucifer even gets an inkling that you like something or it impresses you? He is all in on it to an absurd degree.

Oh, you said his wings were cool? Lucifer suddenly has them out all the time and keeps fluttering or stretching them to show off for you. You like men who can sing? Now Lucifer is gonna find any excuse to do a musical number in your presence. You start laughing at one of his jokes? Whelp. Clown man is now gonna turn into an entire clown show. You think he tells good stories? Get ready for Lucifer to start blabbing about his entire life story.

Unfortunately this happens with anything negative you might say as well. Lucifer takes it way too hard and either tries to prove you wrong, or takes whatever it is you said you don't like and throws it out a window.

You said bowties were silly? Lucifer suddenly shows up wearing an ascot. You made a comment that his cane is just a glorified apple on a stick? Whelp, its in a trashcan now and Lucifer is designing a much fancier one. You don't think Lucifer can hold his liquor? Now he is challenging Alastor to a drinking contest and getting absolutely trashed.

Look. This guy just really wants you to like him okay? Please love him. He is a disaster, but he can be your disaster.

SUMMERY: 🐤 Forgets how to form words or how human language even works 🐤 Can't handle interacting with you directly; so he uses a third party or group events 🐤 Apologizes. Alot. 🐤 CONSTANTLY trying to impress you, or at least, get your eyes on him. Embodiment of peacocking 🐤 Takes any negative comments to heart and goes out of his way to show how wrong they are

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FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

If you want a super cute fic about Lucifer courting the reader with his wings, check out >>this post<< by @nicoliine

If you want to see a really good post on what attracts Alastor and Lucifer to someone, check out >>this post<< by @liliannadelaphinehartifelt

Then lastly, one of my favorite fics actually, check out the Unknown to Me and You series by @beejunos for an amazing take on Alastor's feelings coming out through his shadows. First part is >>here<< and second part is >>here<<

[livelaughlovesubs]

~ 06.10 - Boothill ~

Dom!reader x sub!boothill - reader is gender neutral

Warning: a little dark, dubcon, sadistic (?) reader, first time (doing smt sexual), finger sucking, gun play, teasing, dacryphilia, dry orgasm, cumming untouched, hair pulling, use of chemicals, choking, violence, vomiting, kidnapping

~ Word count: 7k ~

Nini!rant: went for a slightly different vibe this time~ how is it?

Kinktober list 2024

“Hah, another fake galaxy ranger? Who’s tryna impersonating us this time?” Boothill lowered his hat to hide his face while he stared at a wanted poster. Still clean, it must be a new commission. At first, he only wanted to check his own bounty, when he noticed another one right next to his.

‘Galaxy ranger […….], wanted, dead or alive, bounty [1.380.000]’

Consider him surprised when he didn’t recognize the name or the face. Him, the one who owns a data bank to support his memories. It could only mean that it’s an imposter. Having a fake ranger’s wanted poster hung right next to his is pretty humiliating, are they looking down on him? “This might be interesting.” The cowboy smirked to himself, yanking off the poster from the wall while he continued his pursuit.

This was going to be a side job, to yearn some cash for his good ol’ alcohol: Asdana’s white oak, about 6% alcohol and fragrant like the fields after rain. A classic among the malts. Pair that with a bullet to match and consider yourself drinking the holy water from the garden of Eve. The bass and gunpowder will bring an exquisite taste only folks with fine tongues can taste. If he had to give a deeper description, the word mellowness would match mighty fine.

Just thinking about the taste raised his spirits. Since he was going to catch you soon and get compensated big, it wouldn’t hurt to celebrate like this once in a while. Don't get him wrong, this isn't indulging, it's enjoying life. Which is why he was standing in front of a bustling bar, his favorite one. The minute he walked in, he felt his mind be at ease, like a ship with smooth sailing. Everything stayed as cozily as he remembered, the same old barkeeper, music, and seats. As if this was his second home, he popped down right next to the counter and put his arm up onto the bar table.

“Boss, here! The usual for me, you know, the lit stuff.” Boothill smirked, his other hand was tapping his knee slowly. “It’s you again, one Asdana without ice?” The man behind the counter seems to remember that very cowboy, as well as his usual order. To that boothill answered, “Of course, I take my Asdana neat.” Then the barkeeper nodded, as if to acknowledge it, commenting, "You are as lively as ever, sir." Before walking off to get the bottle.

Lively? Huh, it's not a word he'd use to describe himself, but it isn't bad. No, not bad at all. In the meantime the cyborg looked around the establishment, seeing many new and old faces that bring back memories. Among those, there was a single shadow that intrigued him. It was the person sitting next to him.

You were there already when he came, sipping away at your drink as your eyes darted around aimlessly. A cocktail of some kind, fading from black to red. If he had to guess, probably hangman’s blood? One of the specialties of this bar, he knows the owner is proud of that drink. It’s pretty strong, you must be good at dealing with alcohol. Maybe you'd be a splendid drinking buddy, he thought to himself, grinning from ear to ear. Meeting new people and making connections never hurts anyone.

Suddenly he moved his chair closer to yours, opening his mouth and attempting to strike up a conversation with you. “Hey, you there, I haven’t seen ya’ around here. This your first time here?” He tried his best to give you a gentle smile, that ended up with him showing off his sharp teeth. For some, he might have appeared threatening even. “...Yeah, it is. I heard that the drinks here are excellent, which is why they have so many regulars.” You stirred around in your glass, mixing the two colors.

“That’s right, you see, I consider myself a regular too.” Boothill chuckled, by the looks of it, he was quite proud of that title. “Oh right, name’s boothill, you can call me that. How ‘bout we drink a lil’ together?” He smirked, it was still a rather awkward smile. Though luckily you didn’t seem to mind. “Boothill huh? I’ve heard that name around, you are notorious for your misdeeds against the IPC.” You turned around to face him, returning his gesture by smiling as well.

At least he thinks you did, since he saw your face twitch. However, he couldn’t see it clearly due to the effects of the lighting. That was why you looked like a shadow from afar. The cyborg scoffed a bit, appearing amused by your words, “misdeeds you say? Cutie, my actions may not be innocent but I only do honest work.” A low chuckle reached his ears, followed by your response to his rather playful comment, “Of course, I understand. You galaxy rangers are brimming with righteousness after all.”

For some reason, your voice was as clear as day, despite the bustling noises emerging from the background. Many people were talking among themselves, so despite you not speaking especially loud, he still heard you perfectly. It was almost as if he filtered the other sounds out for yours only. At first glance, you seemed friendly, kind even. Yet there was this strange feeling surrounding you, he couldn’t get rid of the lingering suspicions. How did you know his occupation? Sure, his name was pretty infamous, though was it normal to know this much?

“…I guess the number on my bounty isn’t just for show.” He joked, before letting out some breathy laughs. Instead of paying attention to his words, you stared at his hand, each finger was out of metal. A artificial arm, or to be precise, a cyborg. Nothing you didn’t know. Suddenly you raised your finger, pointing in his direction. Boothill frowned a little, taken aback by it. “Your drink, it’s coming.” After a moment you explained, and he turned his head around.

Who would have guessed, you were right, the bartender was just putting down the liquor as he chirped, “One Asdana?” Before winking at the male and leaving the two of you alone. “Ah, yeah, that's for me.” The cowboy mumbled, about to take the old-fashioned glass when you stopped him. “Wait a second, I have something for you.” The moment your sentence ended, you began fumbling with your bag, apparently searching for something.

He was a bit irritated but listened to you anyway, taking his hand back. Waiting like this was a tiny bit annoying, but he put up with it. About a minute later, you were holding a shiny object in your hand. Without giving him any warnings, you dropped the said object into his drink. The beverage splashed against the glass due to the impact, only a single drop landed outside before the liquid calmed down.

Now, a bullet was slowly sinking to the bottom of the glass. Its color matched his drink, it had a golden gleam. “Holy forkeroni…” He gasped, this bullet, it was- “9 millimeters caliber, 147 grain, and the bottom's round as a pie. An eternal classical, am I right?” After explaining something obvious to him, you finally showed your face by leaning forward. The lightbulb brightened your features, exposing your identity to the cowboy. A daring move, a risky gamble with cards not everyone would have played. You stared right into his black pupils without a hint of fear, and his response to your boldness was as expected. “This information, you are...!” Immediately, the cyborg grabbed you by your collar and yelled, “Son of a nice lady- you are the one from that wanted poster! The fake galaxy ranger!” He shook his head, then demanded, “Fudge me… don’t fork around and answer, how do you know so much about me?” What a serious tone he had, he must be feeling threatened.

Your eyes darted down to his metallic hand, the same one you were eyeing up and down earlier was now clenching your shirt. Instead of taking him seriously, you were calm and collected, taking one step after another. Seeing you so relaxed, he felt a hint of anger building within him and used more force. It was almost enough to lift you off your seat. Gosh, look how much contempt he suddenly has for you when he was so nice to you mere moments ago.

“Please don’t cause a scene, sir boothill, I was only being nice by catering your drink to your taste. What's the problem?” You cooed at him like he was a child throwing a tantrum, playing the naive card. This playful tone of yours reminded him awfully of his own, yet at that moment it annoyed him. “You are dodging my question.” He stressed his words, furrowing his brows and tightening his grip. But he jerked a little when you clasped your hand over his, your touch was warm in comparison to his.

Then you spoke in a calm tone, “Shall we take this outside? There are many watching eyes here. I believe you wouldn’t want to get banned from your favorite bar.” The way you talked suggested you knew much more, a lot more than what he does about you. After all, you knew some private details about his preferences and hobbies. In conclusion, you must have been waiting for him here, at this very bar.

Boothill still hesitated for a moment, before eventually letting go of you. He clicked his tongue as if he regretted your meeting today. In truth, he wasn't in the mood for a fight, despite everything he came here to have fun. Your clothes were now wrinkled and slightly messy, disheveled would also be a fitting term, but you didn’t really bother with straightening them out, rather, you were amused by his hot temper. The boy thought about the situation and the problem he was facing. He couldn't read you at all, what a tough nut to crack.

It would be smart to sort out his thoughts, so first things first, he has to find out how you obtained all this information about him. What was your deal and reason? Then he should think about how to clean up this chaos in case it becomes messy. Even so, startling the other guests wouldn’t be good, that’s why he should contain himself for now. “Fine, lead the way, and don’t try to pull any funny business with me.” He clasped his arms in front of his chest, glaring at you with nothing but contempt. To be honest he looked like a cheeky cat instead of a dangerous lion.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of criminal~” You jest, grinning from ear to ear as you sipped at your cocktail. “Oh yeah? Why do you have quite the sum on your head then.” The cowboy countered your statement, squinting his eyes a little. To think you lost his trust this fast, he was a cautious fellow. “Haha, you hurt me. Don’t you have a bounty on your head as well? If so, why can’t I be righteous too?” He shuddered a little at your words, by the looks of it, you could also be a crazy stalker who invaded his privacy. Heck, he would almost bet on you knowing his head's value in and out.

At this point your voice alone was enough to scratch him the wrong way, you were really testing his patience. Boothill dismissed your statement with a groan, “Don’t compare us, I’m not a motherfudgin' fake ranger like you.” You blinked a few times at his words, before laughing out loud. He didn't like how you reacted. “Ahaha~ yes yes, of course, I’m the bad guy in your story, how did I forget this detail?” You blabbered, and he didn't really understand what you meant.

Then, without giving him any time to process what you said, you sprang up from your seat but made sure to take your cocktail with you. “Come now, cowboy. Take your drink with you, can’t leave that to waste right? Let’s continue drinking outside, like real drinking buddies.” That last sentence, he hasn't asked you yet, that means you guessed by his actions alone. Was it that obvious? It almost felt like you were taunting him or making fun of his previous idea of befriending you.

To save some of his pride, he decided to entertain your little chitchat. “Take it with me? I don’t think I’ll need that long to deal with the likes of you.” He sneered, a cheeky expression was plastered on his face now. You scanned him up and down a few times, then said, “If I can give you one advice: you’ll regret it if you don’t.” Shortly after, you walked out of the store, not giving a damn if he followed you or not. It was because you knew he wouldn’t let you escape so easily, and as you predicted, he followed you to the back of the bar. His footsteps were rather silent for a cyborg, he must not want to involve other guests.

The environment was filthy and dark, as well as out of the sight of innocent civilians. Perfect for an ambush or to have a private talk. You took another sip of your drink and complimented it, “Heavens, have I told you already? This tastes great. Wanna try some?” This sudden courtesy didn't seem fitting at all, considering he already lost all trust he had for you. His eyes pointed to your hand, the hand holding the glass in front of him. Instead of taking it, he clanked his own glass against yours, saying “No need, and cheers. Now that we are drinking, it’s time for you to start talking.” After finishing his speech, he drank his much-anticipated beverage.

This was what he missed, the sweet taste of paradise. No matter how he hated to admit it, the bullet you put in was just the stuff he needed. The faint taste of brass and gunpowder partnered up with the overwhelming sweetness of the malt juice was simply magnificent. “Ehem.. now,” He began, putting the drink onto the staircase next to him. It was the emergency staircase in case of a fire, yet it looked rusty as hell. Still, it won’t crash down because of one measly drink, will it?

This was something he had noticed for a while, somehow, he always found your gaze on his hands. The same applied here when he was putting his malt juice away. Was it worth being careful about? Boothill sighed, before continuing, “Tell me, what is your purpose? You were looking for me, weren’t ya?” Straight to the point, as expected of an ill-mannered cowboy like him, but you didn’t dislike it. “If I told you, this won’t be fun anymore. The villain always shares their plan when the hero is subdued.” You gurgled down the last bits of your ‘hangman’s blood’, then put the glass on the ground, unlike him. Would you look at that, who has no manners now?

Afterward, you walked up to the man, and his response to it was taking a few steps back. It wasn’t until his back hit the wall that the two of you stopped in your tracks. “Shirtbag… do you want to imitate a cartoon villain that bad?” He scoffed, crossing his arms once again. “Hehe, maybe.” You smiled at him providing him with a vague answer. Fork it, he was definitely going to wipe that insolent grin of yours from your face. “Anyway, before things escalate and you hit me, how about a quick introduction? My name is y/n.” The ranger didn’t look happy at all at your suggestion, and so he snapped, “I know, I saw on the poster. Can you stop wasting my free time now?”

“Whoa, easy there. And hey! Don’t pull your gun out!” You said and raised your hands as if to testify to your cooperation, then spouted “Well, I don’t know what information I own that could possibly satisfy you.” Now you were really wasting his time, chatting with no end in sight. Obviously, you were playing dumb with him. This caused Boothill to shout almost angrily, “Just tell me what business you have with me, fudgehead!” His rather funny way of talking didn't shock you, which means this was another piece of information you had access to beforehand. Who was feeding you with all that info?

He reached out for your collar again, but to his surprise, he couldn't move his arm anymore. “What the fork?!” His eyes turned to look up at you, his soft lips were parted due to disbelief. “Thankfully it worked~ otherwise I’d be cheese by now!” You joked, taking another step forwards him. “Holy wubabboo- is this your doing?” A confused expression spread on your face and you questioned, “Did what?” What the- what was happening, he couldn't comprehend this darned situation.

“How did you pull this off-? UrGhh!!” Out of nowhere, he dropped down to his knees, hovering and kneeling on the ground while sweating furiously. There was no strength left in his legs, or he lost control of his limbs somehow. On the outside he looked like a robot out of power, arms dangling next to him all lifeless. “Fudge! Tell me! What did you do?!” This has to be your doing, the timing is too perfect. You scanned his body again, smirking to yourself. "I had to prepare a lot for this, you know."

His ears perked at your confession, were you finally getting bored of that clueless act? Your face was barely visible since the alley wasn’t very bright, there was only one dimly lit street lamp around the corner. “You were easier to catch than I thought.” You then uttered. What the hell is this! That was supposed to be his line, so how did things end up this way? He is a motherfudging cyborg, what could you have possibly done to him?

The word confusion was basically written all over his face, he couldn’t even curse at you because he was so baffled, so perplexed about basically everything. Then, you raised your foot and stepped down on his shoulder. He turned his head to the side just to be faced with your shoe, the soles dirtied his cropped jacket.

“Get off me, you son of a nice fugin' lady.” Boothill gritted his teeth, trying to push you away. But the word in capital letter and underlined was 'trying', since he couldn’t move at all. He felt as helpless as the day he lost his home, unable to do anything but watch from the sidelines. “I like that feisty look in your eyes, cowboy.” You teased, those stinging words hurting his ego. Suddenly you leaned down, all so you could meet his gaze more easily.

Your hands reached for the glass of malt juice standing on the staircase and held it above his face. It shone in a golden light, almost akin to a disco ball. His eyes were glued to that glass, partly because he wondered what you planned to do. “Here, as I said before, this shouldn’t go to waste.” You told him and grabbed his chin. It happened so suddenly that he couldn’t react to it, not like he could have done anything in self-defense anyway. “Ugh, let go you mother- fuuHHMM!!”

When he opened his mouth to curse and to let out a shocked yelp, you forcefully poured the drink down his throat. It streamed down his oesophagus. You had to admit, he had good reflexes for reacting to this so quickly. Some of the liquid landed on his lips or cheeks, but he drank most of the juice. You watched the remains that weren't swallowed drip down his chin, soiling his clothes further and creating a darker spot on the fabric. It also covered his metallic chest in a golden shine, one could easily confuse it with oil.

The cyborg closed his eyes to avoid the liquor getting in places it shouldn’t, he choked a little since you were pouring so fast he couldn’t keep up with the swallowing. This didn’t stop until the glass was empty, even the bullet you gifted him earlier ended up in his mouth. He let it rest on his tongue for a while, before gulping it down as well. “Mmmh, guhh- cough cough!”

Boothill gasped, the bullet didn’t roll in as easily as the malt juice, it remained stuck in his throat. He had to cough a few times for it to slide down, after that he instantly complained, “Fu-fudge... why did you do that? I wanted to enjoy my drink slowly!” But he stopped mid-track when your familiar laugh echoed in his ears, and your fingertips stroked his chin. Shivers ran down his spine at your touch, he didn't know why.

“Dear ranger~ did your mommy not teach you not to take things from a stranger?” His eyes twitched and widened, you couldn’t really grasp the expression he pulled, though he looked devastated. It seems a light switch clicked inside his thick skull. Did you mess with his drink? Boothill just couldn't keep calm anymore at the realization, glaring at you with a nasty attitude. “Oh my, did I hit a sore spot there? You look like you want to kill me.” Yet his threatening, imposing body language didn’t scare you off, which is why you continued ridiculing him.

“I’ll ask you a last time, what the fork did you do to me?" Despite all these misfortunes, he didn't give up his insolent side, he was planning on giving you a hard time until the very end. Boothill was showing his sharp teeth once again, but this time he wasn’t smiling. “Are you familiar with Sulfuric acid?” You uttered, tapping his lips with your thumb. That word was foreign to him, was it something he would know? He wanted to bite down on his bottom lip, but you stopped him. This feeling, it was latex, you were wearing gloves.

“You see, it’s potent enough to melt metal.” The expression that followed after you enlightened him of its importance was simply amazing, you were curious about what he felt in that moment. Shock? Anger? Frustration? Maybe even self-hatred? “Then, how did you-” “Hey, I wasn’t done talking. Anyway, to answer your question, I hid it inside the bullet. Then I just had to wait for it to melt through the brass and voila, need me to say more?” What a talent you have for spouting such horrendous things with an innocent tone.

“Everything’s going according to your plan, huh, explaining everything when the hero’s subdued.” He repeated your words, then coughed again because his throat was burning. Actually, it hurt and itched. His face also felt like it was on fire, or to be precise, his skin did. It was so painful he had to clench his teeth to suppress the pain. You laughed under your breath, laughing at him, mocking him. “Right, if it’s potent enough to inflict wounds on a cyborg, then of course it irritates the skin as well.” Well, that should explain why his skin was hurting. “Now, boothill, may I give you another advice?”

Your hand caressed his cheeks as you asked him that, face only millimetres away from his. The way you touched him was surprisingly gentle, it made him sick. “What do you want.” He scorned, shaking his head to brush off your hand. “I’m sure you have extra protection around the more important components inside your system, though you should still get rid of the acid.” You looked unfazed when he avoided your touch, instead you closed the already nonexistent distance between you two and whispered into his ear.

The male looked mad, really damn angry. He yelled into your face, “Well fudge me I guess?! I can’t forking move my body!” That caught you off guard, you blinked a few times at his aggressive behavior. Don't get you wrong, it's not that you didn’t understand his point of view. On the contrary, it's good to see him still so energetic. “Ah~ my bad, I didn’t think the acid would break your control Center first. Why is it located right next to your stomach anyway?” You admitted, scratching your head a little.

This was so easy that it was almost boring, you expected him to put up more of a fight. But you can't blame him when he's basically a cripple right now. “In other words, I’m fudged? Fork this, dying so dishonorable tsk tsk.” Boothill snarled, rolling his eyes, he didn’t consider himself a living man before, but now he was dead-dead if you knew what he meant.

You glanced at his face, he was sweating and his complexion didn’t look all that good. He acted as if he didn't mind it, but he was hanging onto life so dearly it almost moved you. In the end, you proposed in a tender tone, “Want me to help you?” The ranger was still glaring at you, though his gaze bore more skeptic than fury. “You caused this first- fine, I don’t have any choice but to accept do I?”

No matter how he despised you, he can't carry out revenge when he's dead. It's not that he trusted you to 'save' him, but rather, this is his last resort. As soon as he finished his sentence, you yanked on his chin to make him look up at you. The tips of his hair were wet due to the alcohol, and his skin also reddened due to the acid. Your thumb pressed on his bottom lip, almost pulling at it. A faint blush crept onto his cheeks at the intimate touch. Adorable.

When he parted his lips a little, you took that opportunity to stuff your index and middle finger into his mouth. “What- Mhm..!?” The male groaned, finding himself in a pretty bizarre situation. God how embarrassing, he was falling into a shameful abyss he couldn't crawl out anymore. Truth be told, he had a pretty accurate guess on what you wanted to do, though he really didn’t want to actually carry it out. Was this the only way?

You stuck your digits deeper inside, already at the second knuckle, causing him to flinch and twitch. His eyes were tightly shut, brows furrowed while a growing blush covered his features. Damn it, this is worse than any nightmares, this feels the worst. So what was this bubbling and tingly sensation he felt? It was messing with him, causing him to shudder. He could feel your fingers pressing down on his tongue, as well as you trying to not cut yourself on his teeth. This was weird, it was so strange, why was he getting lightheaded?

“Don’t act so surprised now, I’m helping you as you wanted.” After watching his helpless face for a while, you commented on it, obviously not planning on stopping the teasing anytime soon. It seems you caught on to the growing tension between the two of you, so you chuckled, “Hey... what’s this I'm seeing? Why is your face getting red?” His once half-lidded eyes were yanked wide open at the thought that he got exposed.

Don't tell him he was enjoying this perverted act. “Hmm! Sho-shou ap..!” Boothill tried to speak despite the difficulties, feeling your digits reaching deeper and deeper. With each poke, the tingly feeling also increased. Was this perhaps what they called sexual pleasure? If so, why did he have to experience it for the first time at your hands?

A few seconds later, you were knuckles-deep inside him, fingertips already rubbing the walls of his throat. It was wet and hot in his mouth, and his face seemed to be gradually heating as well. That process was speeding up quite rapidly. His cheeks quickly turned red, a foggy blush tainting the skin. He was blushing so much just from sucking on your fingers a little? You simply couldn’t miss out on ridiculing him yet again, purring into his ear once more, “Does this turn you on? How cute.”

His pupils shrank at your comment, probably at the disbelief that you’d say something this audacious. Him? Turned on by you? What a joke- this can’t be real. He was just having a hard time breathing, and that’s why he was getting red. Really. Though deep down, he knew he couldn't sugarcoat it, the truth will always be the truth, no matter how he denies its existence. “MhMm, guhNn, hmm-nggHh..!” The cowboy tried to argue with you, though his protests were muffled by you, only inaudible noises could be made out.

There were also sneaky moans mixed among his protests or little gasps. The vibrations of his voice tickled your skin, it felt pretty funny actually. “What was that? I can't understand you~” You admitted cheerfully, watching the emotion on his face rotate from shock, and anger to frustration. What a shameless person you were, and not to forget heartless.

Then you pressed down on his wet muscle once again, and he gagged around you. “Ughhh..!” That one single gag soon turned into a series of chokes, and tears began collecting in his eye sockets. So he still had his gag reflex, excellent, it was exactly what you needed. More coughs and chokes continuously spilled from the male while you mercilessly ravished his throat.

He could feel you poking his throat so deep it almost hurt, yet that wasn't the only thing he felt. No. Far from it, his body was burning up from the inside, though it was a different kind of heat than the effects of the acid. His mind felt so foggy and weakened, was it alright for him to let his guard down in times like this? When he still hasn't discovered your purpose? But he couldn't hang on anymore, it was as if his brain was melting. Never ever was it this challenging for him to hang on to his reason and logic, to what makes him human.

"Dahmmmm it..! S-stouu! GuhHGG..!!" He choked again, but this time, it felt like something was coming out... no, it was- "hmHHh, fooouukk!! Ugh-guUH!" This familiar sensation and taste, he couldn't move his tongue but he could still taste it faintly. Not to mention the burdensome smell, this familiar smell that stayed around his nostrils. The Asdana he just gurgled down was coming up again, he was on the verge of vomiting. It was as if his body rejected the drink, and he couldn't stop gagging.

At least his insides won't get messed up any longer, that must be the only positive thing in all this. Even so, to do something that shameful in front of you, damn it, he wants to spit at you if he could. You noticed how his throat tightened, or how his Adam's apple moved around. With that, you took your fingers out as fast as how you stuck them inside him. Strings of saliva connected your fingertips with his mouth, and his tongue hung outside for a while. "Ugh, fu-gUhg, UhmM!!"

Right afterward, he puked on the ground, head hanging low while more gaging sounds left him. His pupils shrunk as the contents spilled onto the filthy ground. Those embarrassing noises didn't cease until he choked up the bullet he had previously swallowed. Then, he whimpered at the taste, it had become sour now due to the chemical. "There you go, you should be fixed now." You reported, but he couldn't bring himself to be joyful about it.

Rather, he was sweating furiously, eyes widened and almost dried up. If he could cry, he definitely would have. Oh how thankful he was in that moment that he physically couldn't sob. He wouldn't have been able to live with the shame of breaking down in tears and weeping in front of you. "Uhhhhg, da-mHnn it... fu-uGGhh!!" The taste of the alcohol wasn't as pleasant as before, probably due to it getting corrupted by the acid you mentioned. Such a waste, and to think it landed on the floor now. A place like that wasn't worth a drink this exquisite.

His eyelids and brows twitched, and now that he was done, he clenched his teeth again and insulted you, "You muddlefudger..." That rebellious look in his gaze didn't vanish, he glared at you once more. You were almost impressed if you didn't notice a small glimmer of falter within his tough facade. Despite it being a normal bodily reaction, he seems to be holding it against you. "And here I thought I helped you out, how ungrateful." You clicked your tongue, and his face became redder. Was it because of the humiliation or anger?

Your shoe was still on his shoulder, pressing down on him, reminding him of his vulnerable position. The Cowboy snapped at you, spitting through gritted teeth, "What do ya' got planned now?" You took off your gloves, they were covered in his saliva. Then you revealed, "I'm not sure." He only got more annoyed by that nonchalant answer and demanded, "If you're going to kill me make it quick." Weirdly enough, your eyes glimmered, as if you were inspired by his suggestion. "If that's what you want, I don't mind it." You smirked, patting his head, stroking his long hair as your other hand sneakily pulled out the gun around his waist.

He almost lost himself in that small gesture of comfort you gave him, if it wasn't for him seeing you with his gun in your hand. "Hah.. with my own weapon? Fudge, you want to humiliate me to the end huh." How resentful he sounded, you almost pitied this guy. "Maybe I do." After saying that irritatingly proud, you pressed his revolver against his forehead, pushing his bangs to the side. "But this is a little boring, don't you think?"

As if you were truly interested in his opinion, he found it quite difficult to believe that. "Why do you ask me?" Boothill gnarled, but to his surprise, you moved the revolver away. Instead, the barrel was pressed flat against his chest, the muzzle facing his chin. "What are you..?" The male mumbled, twisting his expression at this damned play you organized for him. For you, all this must be a game, a stage you laid out for him, where he was a mindless puppet playing right into your hand.

He thought he couldn't be surprised anymore, yet your actions kept going beyond anything he could ever imagine. You moved the revolver upwards so that the muzzle was touching the underside of his chin. At the same time, the gun was going underneath his short jacket. "Y-you..!" The cyborg couldn't help but blush a little. His face was hot, overheating even compared to the cold weapon you held in your hands. "Do you still want to die? If you beg, I might spar you?" Your tone didn't sound that serious, it was almost said in a joking manner.

“Fork you, never." Boothill snarled again, acting disobedient even though his life was at stake. He had a strong spirit since he was still so cocky after all the things he went through. You wiped off the smile from your face, now staring down at him with a cold-blooded expression, "I'll count down from three then. Three..." Wha- no, this can't be the end, he still has to find Oswaldo. His artificial heart pounded against his chest, causing his mind to fall into chaos. "Two."

You were so cruel, counting down like this without remorse, a fudging monster! Adrenaline was being pumped through his body, or should he rather say every wire he owned? "One-" Without thinking, since he lost that privilege the moment you began counting, he yelled as fast as he could and closed his eyes, "Fudge! Fine! If m'gonna die lemme at least curse at you! You- er, muddlefudging clocksucker!!" Right now, he kind of wished he could cry, just to let out some steam. You couldn't help but giggle, before uttering the word, "Zero." Suddenly, he blanked out.

For a split second, time appeared to have stopped. What followed after was a loud, ear-splitting sound that echoed through the alley. To be expected, it definitely alarmed other people. Then, absolute silence emerged. Not even the faint music from the bar could be heard anymore. "Ah... hu-huh..?" "Oh? Seems like your gun wasn't loaded!" You giggled, you knew this from the start, didn't you? Pants along with a few choked-out whines escaped him. Shivers traveled through him and electricity was being sent to his brain, stimulating the euphoric parts.

A moment later, a slap sound reached his ears, and a sting that felt strangely pleasant originated from his cheek. His face turned to the side, and his cheek throbbed. "uh-urghh..! Ah, wha-what?" Did you just... slap him? Boothill groaned, shaking a little as drool rolled down his chin because his mouth remained open for too long. His spit also defiled the gun, wetting the revolver. Then, the unimaginable happened, and he let out an unrestrained moan, "ahhhHHHNngg..!?" It was high-pitched and whorish, he wore such a confused but slutty expression that it surprised both of you.

Reality crushed down on him too hard, and he couldn't help but gasp and whimper underneath his ragged inhales. "Ugh..ngh- wha-what's this fe-feeling..? W-why.. ha-hmnHg..♡♥︎?" Oh dear, this is not what you think just happened, right? "Boothill, did you just cum?" You said his name after a long while, and he groaned again, "guHhh... s-stop, that's nonsense! How can I e-even.. I-" The boy stumbled over his words, stuttering as a deep blush was painted over his entire face. He was such a twitchy mess now, totally different than his previous self.

“Are you a masochist?” You asked him randomly, it was so out of pocket that it killed the mood. "...are you crazy?" Boothill replied with scorn, his pride was pretty hurt by that statement. As if to test your speculation, you grabbed the back of his hair and yanked on it, making him yelp. "Arghh..! L-let go- fudge!" Then you squeezed his cheeks and stuck out your tongue. He stared at you hesitantly, his own tongue also hanging outside. Mere moments later, your spit was dripping down and landing in his mouth.

That action rendered him speechless, causing him to freeze. Your saliva tasted a little like alcohol. Darn it, this was so disgusting. Once you were done, you let go of the cowboy again, before teasing him, "I was right, you are a masochistic dog~" You knew because of his flushed cheeks, they became redder at your lewd antics. "Are you satisfied now? The fork do you want from me?!" Boothill scoffed, he could only bear this much until his breaking point. "What do I want?" You repeated his sentence, and put a finger on your chin as if you were thinking hard about something.

In the meantime, boothill impatiently waited, he desperately wanted to know your intentions, to see if it justified your actions. When you moved your finger away, you grinned before responding, "I think the answer is you." "...huh?" The cyborg was stunned, staring up at you with spirals in his pupils as you suddenly embraced him. "You heard me, boothill." Your voice and your hug were so warm, he didn't know you could be this gentle.

No, this was no good, it was troubling, to say the least. "Y/n? You- shirt, what do you mean?" For the first time, you heard your name come out of his mouth. His voice trembled as he voiced out your name, the way he said it had a nice ring to it. Then he glared at you once again, but this time he looked like a small animal, eyes glistening while a heavy blush formed on his face. Wait, why was he even blushing? Maybe, because he was wanted for the first time after centuries?

"I hate you." He said after returning to his senses, he got caught up in his emotions there for a moment. These little bits of comfort aren't enough to make up for the mess you caused, and he didn't feel the same. On the other hand, you couldn't stop smirking, and he knew by the looks of it that it wasn't an innocent smile by length. "Let's get out of here, I'll help you move." You then told him and helped him get up, pulling him by his arms.

This was immediately met with angry protests from the male, "Don't touch me- hey, ugh! Where the fudge are you taking me?" The second he let his guard down, you stuffed your gloves into his mouth to muffle his voice, "hMHh?! MmhhGFFF!!!" After that, to satisfy his curiosity, you whispered quietly, "To a place where I can have you."

.

.

"Finally, the guards are here." One of the guests said, to which another one answered, "Thank god because no one dared to go see what was going on." Maybe people we in disarray due to the mysterious sound they all heard. It was probably a gunshot, which means, someone might have died. Yet no one dared to go into the alley, out of fear that they might be the next victim. After the guards arrived, a rather large group of people followed them and ran over to the scene.

They all wanted to know what that gunshot was, standing on the sidelines and observing the investigation. 'What the hell happened here?!' Everyone wondered, eyes searching around for evidence. The only hints they found were two glasses standing on the staircase with some credits, as well as a pool of what seems to be malt juice lying on the ground along with a single golden bullet in the midst of it.

The guard in charge of this operation reached out for the bullet and said, "...someone must have been shot." Then he eyed the bullet up and down, in hopes of finding more clues. That's when he noticed a weird detail, "Why are there holes in the bullet?"

Tags: @ghostiegirl56 @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze

Nini!rant 2.0:

Based on my findings, concentrated sulfuric acid can melt many metals, like aluminium, iron and steel. (Boothill isn’t safe hehe) It’s enough if it’s moderately concentrated, so it’s alright if a bit of water mixes into it as well. It also reacts to brass - the copper aspect of it, I dunno if it reacts to zink as well. Some sources say yes, some denied it.

Anyway, the Formular for the melting process or chemical reaction would be: Cu + h2So4 -> CuSo4 + h2 or Fe + h2So4 -> FeSo4 h2

So it also creates hydrogen gas at the same time, which also melts iron and is poison for the human body. Annnnd copper Sulfid, which is weak and easily breakable, that means it can weaken the brass.

My plan to poison him: his favourite drink is malt juice with a 9mm calliber bullet that’s out of brass. And malt juice is out of ca. 25-30% water. So, I was thinking of drilling a hole into the bottom of the bullet and use a needle to shoot concentrated sulfuric acid inside the capsule. Then drop that in the malt juice. Now we just gotta wait for the acid to melt through the bullet, and mix with the water of the alcohol, then it’d become moderately concentrated. Btw sulfuric acid can absorb water from everywhere, even from the air.

Then if he drinks it, bam, his insides will melt. It might take a bit, so we gotta entertain him and stretch out the time. Even if he doesn’t drink it, he eats bullets, so he’ll get the acid inside his body anyway. With that, we successfully ‘poisoned’ him. It takes a bit of fantasy but oh well.

Now, take this hangman’s blood recipe:

- 1¾ parts gin.

- 1¾ parts white rum.

- 1¾ parts whiskey.

- 1¾ parts brandy.

- 7½ parts stout beer.

- 6 parts champagne.

[pomefioredove]

HIII I SAW THE FLIRTY PROMPTS EVENTS AND RAN HAHA

Can I please get "You're a shy little thing, aren't you?" with Rook please???? 🙏🙏🫠🫠🤍

anon this one is PERFECT omg screaming...

summary: "you're a shy little thing, aren't you?" type of post: short fic characters: rook additional info: romantic(?), reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, Rook being a little freak, shamelessly flirty, not proofread a part of this event

There's that feeling again.

Your heart rate picking up, muscles tensing, adrenaline urging you to find somewhere to run, a quiet corner to lurk until those eyes you feel on the back of your neck have turned away...

You're surrounded by people, but even the crowd isn't enough to hide you.

For so many years, you hadn't been noticed at all. An unsaved seat, a forgotten name, a dull, drooping wallflower with nowhere to root. Ignored and undesired, nothing more than a piece of furniture in everyone else's lives.

You had long come to accept that it's just how things are, even here.

And, so, the feeling of being watched is wholly unfamiliar.

You slip out of the midday crowd and into a quiet corridor. Your worst fear, really, is that whoever's keeping their eye on you is picking you apart at the seams, analyzing your every flaw...

As if being quiet didn't make you enough of a target...

"Ah, there you are! I thought I lost you,"

You nearly jump. For a moment, you're tempted to look around the vacant corridor for someone hiding in the shadows, because, surely, that voice isn't addressing you.

The boy at the other end of the hall tilts his head. "Ah, do not be frightened! I was only worried you had been swallowed by the crowd,"

You blink.

"...Me?"

"Oui," he responds, putting his hands on his hips. "You are such a tiny thing, I could not let any harm befall you under my watch."

There's something rather unsettling about his gaze. Familiar, even.

"Tiny?" you scoff at the description. "...Who are you, anyway?"

His smile is just as uneasy. Too eager, you think. "Je suis désolée, how rude, I have not introduced myself yet. Where are my manners?" he scolds himself, taking a step forward.

"Rook Hunt."

No, not familiar at all. You've never seen this man in your life, even if there's something about his gaze that strikes a chord with you.

You give your name in return, to which he hums.

"You are quite the interesting creature, you know."

Creature? You give him a sour look, and he chuckles.

"I mean it in the loveliest way. Like a flower which takes a century to bloom, or a comet one might see but once in their lifetime,"

He speaks enthusiastically, and thus fast, leaving you dizzy with metaphors and imagery.

"...Is that a compliment?"

A small smile graces his lips, and he leans forward. "Would you like it to be?"

Full of surprises. You instinctively lean back, further away from those piercing eyes.

He hums again, eyes shining with amusement. "Ah, ah, have I embarrassed you? My apologies,"

"I'm fine," you lie, and leave it at that. You can't seem to come up with a good excuse, and your face feels warm.

Rook tuts, circling around you like a predator surveying its prey.

"...There is no shame in being flattered, chérie. Though I would gladly embarrass you all day just to see that lovely look on your face again,"

You watch him carefully, though avoid eye contact as he stops, eventually, standing in front of you again with a little smile.

"It is a shame you hide yourself, even now. Your beauty should be appreciated," he says. "...Though, I admit, I find the idea of keeping it all to myself rather tempting."

He's going to give you a heart attack, you think. You can feel the embarrassment swelling in your chest, making your heart beat a little faster and averting your gaze to the ground.

He chuckles. "You're a shy little thing, aren't you?"

"I..." you cough awkwardly, eyes fixed on the floor tiles. "...Don't get complimented often."

Rook places a hand over his heart, as if offended by the very thought. "Non? What a cruel world we live in, where such beauty goes unnoticed! The very notion wounds me!"

"Well, then..." he says, getting down on one knee and taking your hand in his, kissing each of your knuckles.

"...Let me make up for it, chérie."

[hugemilkshake]

Yan Shadow milk x Gender neutral reader? (Oneshot)

Enjoy the milkshake! I brainstormed this for a while but I came up with an idea, I would wait for the smilk update but I’m not that patient

Idk if this reads off as yandere sooooo-

Just a little TLC

-Romantic or Platonic-

!TW! Under the cut will be themes like obsessivness, harming another and trying to change someone’s identity ig?

Boring. That’s the best way Shadow Milk could describe Pure Vanillas life. He’s been watching the fool for years now and while it’s fun to see his guilt and stuff but something interesting needed to happen!

That’s when Pure Vanilla met you.

At first you weren’t anything special, just some cookie who was dragged to Pure Vanillas Kingdom by the brave kid. Honestly you were quite boring.

But that aided in your appeal! You were so basic that Shadow Milk started to feel an… itch. An itch to make you interesting, an itch to turn you into something entertaining!

The thought of you being something more consumed his thoughts, you looked nice, but not unique enough. You’re personality was fun, but not fun enough!

You needed a little TLC, and that was fine! He was going to help you stand out and be the most interesting and amazing cookie to exist!

He’d make sure of it.

—————————————

You put your hand on Pure Vanillas shoulder in a panic, he wasn’t moving, he was just blankly staring at the tree. The seal had been broken and there was a chill in the air. But then… it felt like the chill was in your dough. The coldness of your dough and others checking on Pure Vanilla broke him from chance.

Everyone was tense, this Shadow Milk fella was ominous. You felt his gaze on you. It was locked onto you. You shifted around uncomfortably, the cookies around you noticed this. Elder Faerie stepped infront of you, he seemed determined yet a little part of him was anxious… I wonder why…

“Ah this is quite the audience! I will need a volunteer for my show stopping performance though! Now who to choose..” Shadow Milk looked at everyone like he was going to pluck someone away for his “performance”

There was a strong pause before you felt your limbs being pulled up slightly, before you felt yourself get jerked up harshly.

“Y/N COOKIE!” As strings dig into your skin, Elder Faerie jumped up to try and grab your hand, but you slipped away from him like sand

“Now you look like you’d be a good puppet! Although… you need some extra flair, but don’t worry about that! I’ll fix your right up so you’ll be perfect!”

You felt a chil go up your spine as a darkness crept into your mind. Your vision also blanked out.

….

…

..

.

You woke up with concerned eyes on you, and a burning sensation in your arms. Pure Vanilla was looking over your arms. “What… happened…?” You questioned, there was a silence, no one was expecting you to not remember what’s happened, but Strawberry Cookie spoke up

“You became one of Shadow Milks Puppets… I don’t think things went well for you..” she gestured to your arms. You looked down and saw that your arms were cut up, presumably from those strings from earlier

You saw that you were a mess, your hair felt messy and not to mention that some of your clothes had been switched to more of a jester like outfit.

“What about Elder Faerie…?” Everyone was quiet. You could feel your heart sink. He was gone. But no one wanted to break the news… you felt tears starting to prick at your eyes.

You were sacred. You were confused. You wanted to go home, but with the crashed airship…

Home wasn’t an option.

—————————————

Finally. You were in Shadow Milks grasp, you can finally become the star of the show that you were meant to be! Oh all the ideas that he had for you!

You were going to be perfect!

But… there was an unexpected issue…

You were too unique.

Everything about you was boring yet not, no cookie looked like you, it was hard to decide what to change about you because you were so perfect yet imperfect!

It irritated him.

Shadow Milk had been planning on this for months! And now that your here he can’t bring himself to do ANYTHING

He tried changing your outfit and hair style, HELL he even tried making you act out a scene of you laughing at the fools trying to seal him away and save you but it felt wrong. It frustrated him.

When those pesky cookies got closer to him it enraged him more. Everything was going wrong. He even threw you around a couple of times, your arms had jam on them and Shadow Milk swore he felt some form of remorse after it but it couldn’t compare to is anger.

When you left his grasp it felt like a relief yet it felt painful. Seeing Pure Vanilla heal you made his jam boil.

But WHY?

WHATS SO SPECIAL ABOUT YOU?

One way or another… Shadow Milk was going to find out….

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere L Lawliet Headcanons (General)

"I'm always two steps ahead of you, if not more, my sweetie." — L Lawliet.

❝ 📓 — lady l: watching Death Note again and commenting with a friend, I ended up thinking about it and decided to do some L headcanons, because I love him! 🖤 ​​Hope you like it :) 🤍

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, stalking, unhealthy relationships, mention of kidnapping.

❝📓pairing: yandere!l lawliet x gender neutral!reader.

L Lawliet is very scary because he is very smart. A detective, the best detective. He is very good at reading people, at his deductions. There is no running away from him, he will always find you.

He was already stalking you before you even knew it. Before you even knew about his existence, L was already after you. Always behind you, watching you and gathering as much information about you as possible.

L knew about everything you. What was your childhood like, your fears, your desires, your dreams, everything. There is no privacy at all with him, he wants to be able to read you like a book and he does. There's nothing he can't figure out eventually.

He began to appear in your life slowly and normally, for you at least. He just seemed like an ordinary guy who needed some sleep and straightened out his back, but that was it. You had no idea who he really was, how obsessed he was with you.

L has morals that can be easily corrupted when he becomes obsessed. He believes that he is justice and he does in his way, which is not always the right way to do it. He firmly believes in justice above all else, his justice.

He doesn't believe that what he feels, that the things he did for you are considered wrong. L is delusional enough to believe he is right, but he will never do anything against your will. He respects you enough for that.

L is a natural stalker, it's one of his hobbies as a detective. Although he doesn't persecute you in the literal sense of the word, he usually sends Watari to watch you and accompany you somewhere. Whether it's going to school or work, he'll have his butler protecting you.

He won't risk your safety, especially with Kira on the loose. You're not a criminal, but L won't take any risks. He's never made a mistake before and it won't be you he makes a mistake with. Not when one mistake could cause your death.

Always very careful, L would only reveal himself to you when he was sure he would have your trust. He is very, very manipulative and will make you trust no one else but him. Not even your family could be as trustworthy as L. He would definitely lock you up at home if he could.

L has cameras in your house, all aimed at crucial points in your house. In your bedroom, in your living room, in your kitchen, everywhere there is a camera watching you. It had become a habit for him to spend hours a day looking at the images, waiting for you.

He's not the possessive type, but L has his limits and won't tolerate someone approaching you with ulterior motives. He is very quick to think, to deduce that there is someone interested in you and he will quickly push them away from you. He usually uses his manipulation for this. L is not in the habit of killing and will never do so unless it is really necessary.

Once his obsession consumed him for good, L could no longer remain but shadows. He could no longer remain in the background, watching you take risks every day, he needed to do something. And he did, during one night, you woke up in an unfamiliar room and with a pale guy, sitting in a strange way, staring at you intensely. You were finally with him.

You may think you're smarter than him, that you can get away from L, but he'll always be two steps ahead of you. You have nowhere to run. L would finally have you and he wouldn't let you go.

[vivacissimx]

The puzzle piece about Rhaegar that is really interesting but unfortunately often overlooked is that he was relieved when he realized he was not TPTWP. Yes, relieved. Conflicted too which I will get into. And I believe it is obvious that when Rhaegar first read about Aegon's prophecy, he was not enthused— It seems I must be a warrior is trotted out to talk about Rhaegar's gender expression, his disconnect with capital m Masculinity that is purposely contrasted to Robert Baratheon reveling in it (indeed only making sense within the context of violence, battle, war) but there is more to the compulsion involved in the words It seems and I must than just It seems I must become an archetype. Socially becoming a fighter was already expected of him but he was not, presumably, in compliance with this expectation. The prophecy motivated him in a different way than you will be socially rewarded for acting as a man does.

Which brings me to another point i.e. how Rhaegar perceived himself prior to reading what he read; his connection to the tragedy of his birth and the grief, the resentment, the awkward dynamics between members of his family. "Oh he was a child" yes but we're told that Rhaegar did not act like, think like, or even particularly get along with others his age. So it's safe to say he was aware of Summerhall and felt it's shadow surrounding him from a young age. And Aegon's prophecy, combined with the Ghost of High Heart's prophecy, the events of Summerhall, put this weight on his shoulders completely into context. It was not that Rhaegar desired to be TPTWP because he took to it with determination but no particular joy. Every indicator just seemed to demand he give himself over to fulfilling this role. TPTWP was coming from Aerys and Rhaella's line? Well, he was their only child. Consult Maester Aemon on the matter? Yeah kid it's you. Ancient scrolls? Dusty, but they agree. Dead ancestors? Oh wait, they died so YOU could live. Woah.

This understanding basically necessitates us looking to ASOS Daenerys who also has some knowledge of TPTWP prophecy, and thanks to the Rhaegar-Daenerys pipeline, we can imagine that Rhaegar had similar thoughts to Daenerys, such as when she asks herself: The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters. Who are Rhaegar's fellow two heads? Daenerys wonders at this, telling Jorah that her brothers are dead. Well Rhaegar's brothers die too, right in front of him. Rhaella suffers miscarriage after stillbirth after crib death. She is punished for this by Aerys via isolation and presumably Rhaegar is also kept separate from her— textually we know that Rhaegar was expected to take a sister to bride, i.e. further targcest was going to be enforced by Aerys, and to Rhaegar the loss would have also been of the other two people who would have fulfilled the requirements of the prophecy. Yes that's true. However, it was also the loss of his mother.

Rhaella was 13 when she had Rhaegar so it would be ridiculous to even think that she, a child, a Queen from when Rhaegar was 3, was this grand maternal figure to him. Of course she wasn't. There was too much on her shoulders. Too much on Aerys's shoulders as well, to be any sort of father except the kind who trotted Rhaegar out as an impressive little heir from time to time. Rhaegar was Aerys's success (it's the duty of the patriarch to sire sons who will continue the line) but as Rhaegar's siblings failed to survive, that success became a dicey thing. So when Viserys was born & survived, there is a thought that Rhaegar would latch onto such a sibling. This isn't the case— in fact, Viserys is Rhaella's. She coddles him. Keeps him close. Safe from Aerys (who already has Rhaegar). Viserys tells Dany stories about Rhaegar but this is done in the sense that he does not truly know Rhaegar. Why wouldn't Rhaegar have spent more time with Viserys, if he was motivated by fulfillment of the prophecy?

Because Viserys was Rhaella's, perhaps. Rhaegar never truly got to be his mother's son. To leech Viserys away from her... there's something in that. When Rhaella warmly welcomed Rhaegar's daughter, too. Rhaella's was Aerys's wife and property, which Rhaegar knew because he was also Aerys's property. Rhaella was mother to his brother. Rhaella was a grandmother to his daughter. She was everything but the woman who raised him.

"Rhaegar was a lonely man anyway due to his depression" yes that's true. There is an asceticism to Rhaegar Targaryen. The places he enjoys are bare and stripped, places he can keep his own company: Summerhall, the place of his birth, haunted, full of magic. Dragonstone where he retreats after his marriage, a place where the last embers of Valyria's magic died. Later the Tower of Joy is in a barren desert. But he finds a beauty in these places. He writes music that pushes him back into the shared world, songs he shares with people, about people, about lovers and those who sacrificed and who he is deeply moved by— almost like he's motivating himself. People are drawn to him.

Despite his lack of connection to Rhaella and Viserys he does bond with people. Arthur Dayne, who for all we can try and complicate, apply horseshoe theory to, is meant as the juxtaposition to characters such as the Smiling Knight. Brave as brass Myles Mooton whose memory his people still call upon. Richard Lonmouth and Jon Connington, both technically vassals to Robert Baratheon, funny little irony there. Princess Elia his wife who he is fond of along with the Dornishmen she comes to court with, "particularly" Prince Lewyn of the Kingsguard, who is in Rhaegar's confidence (per AWOIAF). These bonds seem strong because not a whiff of possible disloyalty on Rhaegar's part ever reaches Aerys despite it definitely existing and Aerys actively looking for it (again per AWOIAF). Do these confidantes know about Aegon's prophecy? IDK. At least in JonCon's case the answer seems to be no. However we also know JonCon wasn't actually the closest to Rhaegar. Nonetheless, I think we can assume that outside of Arthur Myles and Richard most of these were political relationships which Rhaegar pursued and all were concerned about Aerys's instability— there is also Tywin who Rhaegar performs certain overtures towards (such as knighting Gregor, Tywin's man, at a time when the Aerys-Tywin relationship had just grown particularly sour) indicating he'd like him as an ally. This is all straying away from TPTWP but I think it's important, it shows that even imbued with purpose, Rhaegar was in a position that did not lend itself towards him being able to take much action...

Then winter breaks. Spring comes. Nobody knows it's false yet. Rhaegar's whole deal is this coming Long Night. Everyone takes, quite literally, a breath of fresh air, and the tourney of Harrenhal commences, with Rhaegar as a shadow sponsor, thinking to call an informal Great Council which will begin to deal with Aerys (step 1)(step 1 failed).

This is where matters of prophecy come back into focus. I've covered Rhaegar's various relationships, the shallowness of them, the stagnancy in Developments due to Aerys's paranoia, etc. Harrenhal is not a solitary place but it is flush with magic in a way similar to Summerhall and Dragonstone— all places where dragons have died Harrenhal is thematically the cannibal dragon let's not get into that. And this is important to Rhaegar's characterization because of how things unfold with Lyanna Stark in several ways: 1) Lyanna cries to his song. Before they formally meet Lyanna is touched by the magic and purpose and sacrifice and yes, love, of which Rhaegar sings. It speaks to her. Of course, many others likely cried too. Common occurrence, see: A song of love and doom, Jon Connington recalled, and every woman in the hall was weeping when he put down the harp. Not the men, of course. Rhaegar gender moment but I digress. 2) Rhaegar's discovery of her as the KOTLT despite Robert & Richard Lonmouth both vowing to do so, those raucous manly men, both of whom failed; Rhaegar's subsequent hiding of her identity to unknown consequence for himself if any. All he produces is her shield which is painted with a tree on it, a purposeful callback to Duncan the Tall's shield, both Lyanna and Dunk being 'false knights' yet, in their actions, true ones. Sorry I love Lyanna so much I can't resist plugging her greatest hits 3) Rhaegar winning the tourney, the only tourney he's ever won... and immediately tainting his victory by awarding it to Lyanna instead.

I bring this all up and frame it because here we see that Rhaegar is not really invested in his own victory or legacy or even really his honor. His wife Princess Elia is there and she is pregnant with his son, something he could commemorate in the same vein that Aerys "honored" Rhaegar by showcasing him at various tourneys, an ode to a future warrior king, but Rhaegar doesn't do that. It's not his victory as a Man. It's never been about his victory as a Man. It doesn't even need to be his victory.

Neither does Aegon's prophecy. Rhaegar rapidly realizes that on two fronts: second, the false spring ends. It wasn't real! Rhaegar's spring isn't the lasting one. First, though, is that Rhaegar and Elia's son Aegon is born, a difficult birth in which Elia is rendered infertile. Who does this remind you of? Oh right, Aerys with Rhaella— only Rhaegar does not go about trying to impregnate Elia again. Rhaegar becomes convinced Aegon is TPTWP— something he was already thinking, prior. Rhaegar was never so invested in himself being TPTWP that he could not be convinced otherwise. Maester Aemon: Rhaegar, I thought... the smoke was from the fire that devoured Summerhall on the day of his birth, the salt from the tears shed for those who died. He shared my belief when he was young, but later he became persuaded that it was his own son who fulfilled the prophecy, for a comet had been seen above King's Landing on the night Aegon was conceived, and Rhaegar was certain the bleeding star had to be a comet. Rhaegar agreeing "when he was young" and being "certain the bleeding star had to be a comet" all indicate that he had been looking into the possibility that TPTWP was Not Him for a while. The visits to Summerhall— maybe they were a search for proof by encasing himself in the lingering magic of the place? He still messed up the prince/princess translation presumably because baby Rhaenys never seemed to be in the conversation. (The bleeding star was in fact a comet, funnily enough, a little consolation prize for the pretty boy.) Here's what we know: in Daenerys's vision, Elia asks if Rhaegar will write Aegon a son, we can assume because he wrote their firstborn Rhaenys a song, but Rhaegar says no, he already has one. The song of ice and fire. Aegon doesn't get a song. Why? Rhaegar believes he must be a warrior.

Yet, he sings for him anyway.

Rhaegar's "it seems" and "I must" and distance from Viserys and inner conflict about Aerys and doubt about his own place in the grand scheme of things all come to fruition with Aegon's birth. Rhaegar isn't TPTWP— and it spurs him into action. A weight is off his shoulders so now he can act. As in the case of crowning Lyanna, when the purpose of a task is not to honor or elevate him, we see Rhaegar able to perform in ways he could not before.

Namely there are two veins: acting against Aerys and seeking out information of the prophecy, but Rhaegar's general direction (through the Riverlands past Harrenhal) seems to indicate that he was headed towards the Ghost of High Heart. Not Summerhall, a place of mysticism meant to soothe Rhaegar. Rather a place of pain. The Ghost of High Heart who gorged on grief at Summerhall, who only ever demands Jenny's song (which Rhaegar seems to have wrote), who sees in Arya who looks like Lyanna, who looks like Jon, death. But instead of ever making it there... Rhaegar meets Lyanna.

And then they disappear. There are the Rhaegarwars to consider so I'm just going to say that, at the least, Lyanna did not want to marry Robert though society dictated that she must, and in removing her, she was removed from this. From there she came to be in Dorne in a place that was desolate desert, but similar to Summerhall, which was also abandoned, held something of magic in that it was near where Those Who Sing The Song of the Earth had split the Arm of Dorne. We can say a lot more about this but that's not the point of the post. I have explained Rhaegar as a person disconnected from his mother, later a person who in several manners refuses to act as Aerys did towards Rhaella, indicating that disconnect troubled him — Rhaegar's limited amount of close relationships with people he admired and the deep loyalty shown to him, presumably for a reason — Rhaegar's willingness to interrogate himself & his assumptions about the world.

So when I say Rhaegar was relieved what I mean is that upon suspecting and, to his mind, confirming that he was not the fulfillment of Aegon's prophecy, Rhaegar became proactive in ways he had yearned for but not been able to before. The Rhaegar that died with Lyanna's name as his last word was not a Rhaegar who died thinking the world was doomed without him. I think the Rhaegar that died on the Trident was a Rhaegar who had escaped the shadow of fate only to meet it, face to face.

[wpdarlingpan]

Could we get something with Yandere ouat Peter? Preferably gender-neutral or nb reader.

An idea I had is maybe Hook has a kid, so the character would have grown up in Neverland. I think maybe a platonic Yandere Peter would be v interesting, where he maybe tries to interact with reader as a ‘cool older brother’ sort of figure, despite the fact that reader very much knows exactly who he is and that he’s dangerous. Romantic would be fine too though!

Thank you so much for the request! I apologize it took so long and I have not written in a while so I hope it's okay!

I loved this idea so I had to see how it'll play out. I did the platonic version and although I did use Y/N and made them gender-neutral, I wrote they were 17 for the story's sake. I often have Peter refer to them as a child because in his mind he feels the need to take care of and protect them.

I am considering a part two if people like this idea enough, maybe taking place when the Storybrooke residents arrive.

Warning: Yandere Behavior

Word Count: 2886

-----------------

The Love Of A Brother

-----------------

The day Killian Jones, otherwise known by his more colorful moniker Hook, came to Neverland was a day he would never forget.

He had many men aboard, each desiring to never grow old until they wished. They all had been warned about the dangers that lurk within the water and upon the soil of Neverland but the idea of dying from old age was a more terrifying feat to them.

However, one person had little choice in the matter, as they were still somewhat forced to come to Neverland.

Captain Hook's kid, Y/N.

After the day Mila died it was up to him to become a single parent. Overall he was rather good at it. Always telling stories so that they would be able to sleep at night or sitting by their bedside when they had gotten a cold. But, no matter how much love they held for each other, Killian could not stop going after the man who killed his wife and the mother of his child.

Y/N was 17 the day they had arrived in Neverland and would remain so until the day they left.

This was not a decision Hook made lightly. Bringing the person he cared for more than anyone into the hellish landscape wasn't something he'd wish on his worst enemy (other than Rumpelstiltskin) but the idea of leaving them with no idea when he would return hurt even more.

So he created the rules.

Do not leave the boat without permission.

Do not ever interact with Peter Pan or his shadow.

Avoid the Lost Boys.

"Who is Peter Pan?" They asked their father as the Jolly Roger settled after coming through the portal to Neverland.

"A bloody demon." He responded looking at the dark island as it neared.

Hook began telling the stories that he knew. Even sharing how he had met Peter Pan in the first place. Albeit leaving out what happened to his brother as he blamed himself as well as Pan for the tragedy.

Pan knew he was arriving on the island. Hook riskily contacted him through his shadow to come to a truce before being allowed to arrive on the island.

But there was a little thing Hook had forgotten to mention.

His child.

He had hoped that if none of the inhabitants of the island knew their relation, with Peter assuming they were deckhands or something, they wouldn't be targeted if Peter got bored or wanted to play a game.

But the resemblance was noticeable from the first meeting.

-----------------

As the boat docked onto shore to make an initial supply run, Hook kept Y/N close. Half of the crew, including the two of them, walked carefully through the jungle, avoiding every thorn they came across.

But the real danger was just up ahead. After all, Peter Pan wouldn't be a polite host if he didn't welcome his guests.

The second the pirates entered a clearing they were surrounded by the sound of rustles as the leaves moved around the edge of the clearing and a figure appeared about 20 feet ahead on the other end.

Hook froze, he knew he should have expected him to show himself this early, but a part of him had hoped he wouldn't, not yet at least.

Y/N held onto their bow and arrows tightly as they observed the boy up ahead who looked just a little older than them. Judging by the way he held the spotlight, they had to assume this was Peter Pan.

"Look what we have here, I didn't expect to see you on the island this quickly. I mean after what had happened last time you were here, the idea of returning so willingly was unexpected, Captain." Peter spoke as he neared the group, the Lost Boys forming a circle around them to prevent anyone from running.

Peter inspected the group as they each held some form of weapon. Be it a dagger, sword, or even one with a bow and arrow.

He neared the one with the bow and arrow, the idea of figuring out what else made them so different lingered in his mind. Peter stood closely in front of them, studying their appearance and the subtle yet noticeable looks towards the direction of Hook.

This is when something had clicked.

His brain was no longer assessing the group as a whole or messing with the Captain. His thoughts were reserved for only them. The way they were trying to hide their shaking hands and the way they held onto the bow tighter the closer he got. The shine of their eyes as they looked at him almost like a frightened deer.

He could recognize a scared child anywhere and this time he didn't want it to be his fault. It was like an instinct of protection filled his black heart. Their fearful yet innocent gaze was embedded into his soul. Someone like this simply couldn't live with harsh pirates.

He reached a hand out towards them but Hook stepped in the way. His gaze was harsh yet Peter could easily detect the fear hidden in them. For himself or the child, he wasn't sure.

Peter smirked at Captain Hook as he realized why they had looked so familiar now seeing the similarities in their features and hair color. He had been to distracted by the odd feeling of protection and familiarity to even acknowledge the finding.

"You have a child? My you got busy after leaving last time." He teased as he glanced around the man to see them standing there, their gaze locked onto the ground.

"Stay away from them or so help me you will have wished-" Hook began to say before Peter cut him off.

"You'll do what? Let me remind you, you're here because I allow it. You eat the island's food only because I allow it. You only live because I have use for you yet." He threatened motioning his hand for the Lost Boys to run away.

Y/N took a sigh of relief as the group dispersed but their worry would still remain until Peter was out of their sight. The ideas of the horrors they were told, all of which could happen to them just by being in his presence, filled their anxious mind.

Peter stared at Hook seriously before sending a look and a playful wink toward Y/N, hoping to make them less afraid.

"I'll see you soon." He commented staring directly into their eyes before disappearing.

—————————

Apparently soon meant a few days.

It first began when Y/N was laying on deck, watching the stars when someone appeared next to them and laid down on the spare part of the blanket.

“The stars are beautiful aren’t they?” He spoke as if lying on the ground next to them wasn’t an unusual occurrence.

Y/N was silent, trying to hide the fact they were afraid. The unknowing was terrible, the idea that their father was fast asleep, probably passed out from exhaustion at that, was nerve-wracking as they could not call for help.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me.” Pan said genuinely, staring at the side of their face as he admired their courage to hide their fear.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You have a reputation you know. I’m sure you could get rid of me in a heartbeat.” Y/N was nervous now, it audibly showed through the small stutter that sounded in their sentence.

“That doesn’t mean I want to… Do you know why I’ve brought all these boys to the island?”

“Because they’re lost?”

“Because no one deserves to feel alone.”

Peter Pan believed that because Y/N was an only child who spent their whole life traveling the seas, that they had to be lonely. They are constantly moving and never staying in one place, let alone with people their age.

Then their father, he’s a pirate with a drinking problem who is so obsessed with revenge that even though he is protective and loves his child, Peter couldn’t tell you which the man valued more.

Revenge or love?

If Peter were to take her right now, he could be their older brother. Someone who takes care of their little sibling in the face of everything like heartbreak, anxiety, everything that would make them feel anything other than happiness.

Y/N would be his sibling. He’d be their only brother.

Being an older brother to Y/N sounded perfect to him.

—————————

Their next encounter was when they had been sitting on the edge of the beach as the Jolly Roger was anchored nearby.

Y/N's father had allowed them to hang out along the shore alone.

The captain and crewmates were planning on staying on the edge of the jungle that was Neverland. He had figured they would be okay for a couple hours and that he could hear if they needed anything.

He knew the dangers that posed leaving them there alone but he thought they would be cornered again the second they entered the tree line so there really wasn’t anywhere ‘safe’ at the moment.

That’s how he rationalized it at least.

But when Peter saw them sitting alone on the shore, the mermaids moving closer by the second, he saw Hook as irresponsible and unfit to care for Y/N.

He quickly approached them, the sight of him causing the mermaids to swim away quickly, realizing that was not someone they wanted to lure in.

“Y/N.” Peter said as he approached, sitting in the sand next to them.

“What are you doing?” They spoke questioningly “I thought you would be bothering my father and his crew.”

“Is that what he counted on. Me leaving you alone as they frolicked or whatever they are doing in the jungle? Is that why he left you here defenseless?” He replied getting more confident that Killian wasn’t fit to take care of Y/N.

“I don’t like what you’re accusing him of.” Y/N replied, glaring at Pan in front of them but if anything it was adorable.

He raised his hands jokingly as if he actually felt threatened by them.

“I’m just saying, he knows the dangers of this island. If it’s not me, it’s the lost boys, then the Dreamshade, and as you almost realized, the mermaids.” Peter counted off making Y/N realize what the subtle splashing noise they heard was. “He shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“I’m 17. I can take care of myself for a few hours.” They argued, much like if they were telling their older sibling they didn’t need to be babysat.

“Sure you can. But you don’t need to when I’m here.”

———————-

From then on he would appear randomly whenever he knew Y/N was alone.

When they weren’t, he was silently protecting them from the shadows.

If we’re sketching in their room? He’d sit next to them silently, allowing them to focus. Meanwhile he was busy admiring their skills even if it was a simple picture of the sky.

They volunteered to go look for some more supplies on the island?

They mysteriously got separated from the group for a few hours.

He took them saying ‘I can take care of myself for a few hours’ rather literally. In those few hours, they got an entire tour of the main points of the island.

Even the camp.

Peter had them sit on his designated chair, introducing Y/N as their little sibling. Each of the boys came up to them and introducing themselves enthusiastically as the proposed all the fun games they could play if they were to stay.

Even when Y/N emphasized greatly that they couldn’t.

Each and every time.

When their birthday came around Peter gifted them a necklace, his initials were on the inside, to protect them from anyone who finds their way to the island.

Although he made sure to use his magic to conceal the necklace from the eyes of Hook.

Not that he cared about what the man thought, after all nothing would keep him from his little sibling.

Nothing.

-----------

The day Peter had been preparing for came sooner than expected.

Hook had discovered a way to kill the dark one and his need for the island was gone. Meaning it was time to return back to the enchanted forest.

The crew had begun preparing to return back to the forest. Packing up their supplies and strapping down anything they had on deck to prepare for traveling through the portal.

Y/N was packing up anything loose in their room. They had mostly finished other than having to pack the rest of their art supplies.

“So you were just going to leave and not tell your older brother? I'm offended” Peter spoke appearing in their room and sitting on their bed.

In their deal, he had allowed Hook to leave once he had found a way to accomplish his goal.

That was before he had met Y/N.

“I was never going to say in Neverland. I was always going to leave. I don’t know what you were expecting.” Y/N spoke harshly trying to push him away.

They had to admit, after all this time spent with Peter, that it was hard to view him as some irredeemable demon. He comforted them when they had nightmares of their mother’s death, protected them from the mermaids, did their favorite activities with them (even if he was not really invited), and seemed to love them.

Peter knew they were just trying to protect themself from the pain of leaving so they lashed out. He could tell they were saddened at the thought of leaving him. This made him feel warm inside.

Y/N assumed they’d be fine once leaving Neverland, they would have to forget about Peter Pan and their life would go back to normal, well as normal as it gets.

Suddenly they heard approaching footsteps.

“Y/N? Are you ready to go? We are about to enter the portal now.” Killian called through the closed door, his eagerness to leave the island covering the fact that there was a muffled sound as he spoke. Hook was ecstatic, his time for revenge had come. His head was in the clouds as he ran over his plan over and over again. Causing him to not even think to just poke his head in to check on his child, just of the idea that the portal was closing any minute

The muffled noise was Peter whispering that he would not let Hook leave if they said anything other than that they were ready.

Y/N knew if they weren’t allowed to leave, their father would be devastated.

“Yes father, I’m ready!” They called back and the two listened as the man’s footsteps grew farther and farther away.

“You can’t leave Y/N. You’re my little sibling, I have to take care of you.” He spoke manipulatively the second Hook was out of distance.

“I have to. If it’s up to me, I’ll never leave my father. He raised me, he loves me! He will take care of me better than you ever can.” Y/N retorted, frustrated at the situation. Why wouldn't Peter just go away? They knew they cared for him, even just a little bit. But their father was very important to them. Even if he had been a little distracted while searching for revenge, they didn't feel his love any less.

A loving father or a over protective, self-proclaimed brother.

They knew which had meant more. They had made their choice, one they couldn't vocalize as Peter softly blew poppy dust into their face, causing them to pass out instantly.

“Then it isn’t up to you.” as he spoke “This is for your own good. I love you Y/N and I know you love me. You are better off at my side.”

He picked them up bridal style as he and Y/N disappeared off the boat and reappeared in the camp. All of their stuff appears on the ground off to the side of them.

"Welcome to your new home, Y/N"

-------------

Hook had gone to Y/N’s cabin to check on them, the portal closing behind him as they could see the Enchanted Forest off in the distance.

He was eager to see his child, wanting to celebrate the idea of finally being able to avenge his wife and their mother. Hook knocked and didn’t hear an answer assuming they had been disoriented or hurt by the portal, he opened the door quickly.

But, he was met with an empty room and no Y/N.

He looked around for any signs frantically before he spotted a letter on the bed.

Hook,

You were always too focused on the idea of revenge that you neglected what was in front of you. You never deserved Y/N and you never will. Each time you left them alone, I was there. I comforted them, I protected them, and I loved them. Each thing is something you couldn't do while you searched for something you did not even know existed. Y/N will be better off without you.

I always wondered if you'd choose revenge over love.

I guess I have my answer.

Their brother,

Peter Pan

[yanderes-galore]

May I ask for a Daemon Targaryen concept from A Song Of Ice And Fire?

Daemon is certainly... terrifying as a yandere, actually-

Yandere! Daemon Targaryen Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Flirtation/Implied unwanted advances, Possessive behavior, Controlling behavior, Violence, Murder, Blood, Threats, Isolation, Mature themes, Mentions of bedding, Toxic behavior, Forced marriage, Biting/Marking, Forced relationship.

Daemon is arrogant, a prince uncontrolled and demanding of approval.

He's known for seducing those that capture his interest.

Out of most of the ASOIAF yanderes, I assume Daemon is among the worst.

He's persistent, demanding, and controlling.

He wants power as much as he wants approval.

He has a twisted form of love towards those close to him and isn't afraid to do immoral acts to get what he wants.

Need I remind you Daemon had his original wife killed as he didn't like her?

I imagine Daemon would trail behind his obsession like a shadow if they caught his interest.

It's nearly impossible to get rid of him.

Plus, Daemon has one of the fiercest dragons at his disposal, Caraxes.

The Rogue Prince is described as charming yet dangerous.

He is quick to take offense and hates others wounding his ego.

Which means if you refuse him, he tries harder.

Daemon is used to people finding him attractive.

He could take anyone he wants to his bed.

Except you.

You refusing his interest... would no doubt wound him and his pride.

Daemon definitely likes what he can't have.

He's someone who has learned he has to fight for the attention he deserves.

In fact, it's canon he cherishes the approval of his brother Viserys.

He hates being neglected.

He hates being controlled.

I'd imagine Daemon's courting is not only persistent, but violent.

Daemon would fight in tourneys for you, find you gifts, anything to impress you.

Daemon originally saw seducing you as a challenge, yet another little conquest to add to his belt.

But over time I can see Daemon... crave your presence.

A way I think a yandere Daemon could start is certainly with someone who doesn't immediately give in to him.

At first he's obsessed with the challenge, but soon realizes he can't bring himself to stay away.

Daemon can't even distract himself with other partners.

Brothels don't have much appeal anymore, maids offering themselves to him just makes him irritated.

He wonders if he can't part from you due to his ego at first.

He can't admit that you won this little game of his.

In reality, he's obsessed with you.

He craves your praise, your attention, your approval.

He no longer wishes to seduce you and be done with it.

Now he feels he needs you... all of you.

It's not just about bedding or pleasure now...

He feels no one else can satisfy him but you.

By this point... he'll do anything for you.

Just so he can get that approval he craves, even if it harms his ego.

Daemon is known to quickly take to violence.

With you it's rare, thankfully.

To others? Well... it's certainly more common.

Daemon wouldn't want anyone else courting you once he has his eyes on you.

Daemon pays close attention to those around you.

Servants, knights, lords....

The moment he sees someone court you, he's quick to stop it.

He may simply step in the way, perhaps even threaten them in a low tone as he grips his sword.

I wouldn't put killing other suitors past him.

He may excuse it as a "duel gone wrong", even though the reason his sword is dripping blood is because he played unfair.

Daemon's selfish, he doesn't care about your freedom.

In the end he ultimately wants you as his.

He even turns down other proposals for a betrothed, his gaze fixed on you.

After all, he's willing to go beyond immoral to have you.

He'll spill the blood of countless others if it means locking you into a marriage with him.

You could have a betrothed, or merely a secret lover, Daemon will find out.

Is it really that much of a surprise to learn he's killed them?

The scene is no doubt grotesque, his blade deep inside their flesh as their blood pools on the ground.

Surely you'll see just how serious he is, yes?

Which means... you should know what your answer is when he asks you to marry him, right?

Obviously, Daemon is possessive.

Possessive to the point he'd paint the streets red without even needing Caraxes to make you his.

You, as his beloved, can only resist his need for so long.

It feels fantastic when he marries you, a traditional Targaryen wedding.

By the end of it he knows you're his.

No one can touch you without expected consequences.

Touching what belongs to Daemon is the same as disrespecting him.

He never wants you far from him, keeping you by his side with a hand around your waist.

Any who insult you are met with their tongue taken... in the literal sense.

It's hard to calculate how many would fall to Daemon's blade over you.

The blood means nothing to them.

In fact, their corpses help feed his steed Caraxes, the blood wyrm even seeming to appreciate your presence.

Daemon doesn't understand why you bother mourning.

He's making a point, he's showing you're his.

You're his to possess.

You could try to flee, you could try to hide, Daemon knows you're his even if you don't.

Why bother looking so upset...?

Daemon showers you in affection and gifts, anything to earn the approval he craves.

He wants you to feed his ego, to tell him you love him.

He wants you to kiss him as he holds you in his lap.

He wants you to squirm when he digs his teeth into your neck.

You should be happy he's so dedicated.

He's even had his previous lovers killed to show you he's focused on you.

Is that what you wanted?

Do you crave his dedication?

If that will make you his... then he'll do anything.

To Daemon, he takes his House's saying seriously.

Daemon would spread 'Fire and Blood' if it meant you'd be his alone.

You'd be mistaken if you still thought he did all this just to bed you.

No, Now Daemon has truly given into his obsession... He only wants you...

No matter how many have to burn or be cut down... you'll always be his.

[gendrie]

arya and melisandre are really interesting foils to me. i don’t think it ever gets discussed, though. theres not really a lot of overlap between arya fans and team dragonstone fans i guess lol. but arya and melisandre are the only female povs to truly practice sorcery. theres so much to compare and contrast between them. at the start of the series arya is only 9 years old. she is just a child and the youngest female pov. melisandre is much, much older. we don’t even know how old, but she’s been practicing magic “for years beyond count” so...she’s the oldest pov by far. 

they're represented by contrasting elements: water and fire. melisandre has a serene aura. arya has a more wild temperament. melisandre is statuesque. arya is petite. both are described as being slender and graceful. they speak several tongues including high valyrian. 

While the boy was gone, Melisandre washed herself and changed her robes. Her sleeves were full of hidden pockets, and she checked them carefully as she did every morning to make certain all her powders were in place. (Melisandre, ADWD)

Last of all she threw her cloak across her shoulders. It was a real mummer's cloak, purple wool lined in red silk, with a hood to keep the rain off, and three secret pockets too. She'd hid some coins in one of those, an iron key in another, a blade in the last. (Arya, TWOW) 

they’re both fairly unconventional for their gender too. neither could be called a “proper” (ie: submissive) lady. they are driven and dangerous. melisandre comes to be seen as stannis’ “true queen” but she views herself as a knight in her own way. she casts an illusion to look very appealing and yet she’s also deeply intimidating to most. stannis is impressed with melisandre’s ability to inspire fear even in grown men. 

“I have ships . . . and I have her. The red woman. Half my knights are afraid even to say her name, did you know? If she can do nothing else, a sorceress who can inspire such dread in grown men is not to be despised. A frightened man is a beaten man. And perhaps she can do more. I mean to find out.” (Davos, ACOK)

Gendry and Hot Pie did not question her choice. She had the map, after all, and Hot Pie seemed almost as terrified of her as of the men who might be coming after them. He had seen the guard she'd killed. It's better if he's scared of me, she told herself. That way he'll do like I say, instead of something stupid. (Arya, ASOS) 

arya has a fierce reputation to those who know her but she’s only a small child and vulnerable so most don’t view her as a potential threat. she shares her soul with a ferocious direwolf and aims to embody those traits herself. she is a leader by nature. arya has gotten boys to follow her command despite being younger and a girl. 

Melisandre paid the naked steel no mind. If the wildling had meant her harm, she would have seen it in her flames. Danger to her own person was the first thing she had learned to see, back when she was still half a child, a slave girl bound for life to the great red temple. It was still the first thing she looked for whenever she gazed into a fire. (ADWD) 

relatively speaking, we don’t know a lot about melisandre, but we do know she was a slave at one point and likely from humble origins. she has devoted her life in service to r’hllor. whatever connected her to her old life is a distant memory. 

“We are but servants of the God of Many Faces." "Valar dohaeris." All men must serve. "You know the words, but you are too proud to serve. A servant must be humble and obedient." "I obey. I can be humbler than anyone." (Arya, ADWD)

arya has been enslaved too, but she was born the daughter of a great lord and lady. as her house has fallen arya is driven across the narrow sea to the temple of the many faced god. she is trying to be a servant of god, but the results are mixed. arya has a lot of previous allegiances because of her place in the world. she will not be able to make the sacrifice in the end. 

"A shadow is a thing of darkness." "You are more ignorant than a child, ser knight. There are no shadows in the dark. Shadows are the servants of light, the children of fire. The brightest flame casts the darkest shadows." (Davos, ACOK)

"All gods have their instruments, men and women who serve them and help to work their will on earth. “ (Arya, AFFC) 

both of their storylines are deeply involved with religion. arya is in religious training currently and she has significant interactions with all the major religions in asoiaf. arya is tolerant and curious. even if she is a bit skeptical of the gods in general. the gods she truly follows of the old gods of the north. 

Through the leafy canopy she could see the bone-white branches of the heart tree. It looks just like the one in Winterfell from here. If only it had been . . . then when she climbed down she would have been home again, and maybe find her father sitting under the weirwood where he always sat. (Arya, ACOK) 

for a character who hasn’t stepped foot in the north since her first chapter weirwoods are an important symbol in arya’s storyline. they represent her faith and culture, her identity and her family, her past and her future. they show up in every book for her in one form or another. 

The weirwood was the heart of Winterfell, Lord Eddard always said . . . but to save the castle Jon would have to tear that heart up by its ancient roots, and feed it to the red woman's hungry fire god. I have no right, he thought. Winterfell belongs to the old gods. (Jon, ASOS) 

melisandre would have burned the weirwood at winterfell if jon had accepted stannis’ offer to become jon stark, lord of winterfell. that’s why he rejected it. 

The red woman walked round the fire three times, praying once in the speech of Asshai, once in High Valyrian, and once in the Common Tongue. Davos understood only the last. "R'hllor, come to us in our darkness," she called. "Lord of Light, we offer you these false gods, these seven who are one, and him the enemy. Take them and cast your light upon us, for the night is dark and full of terrors." (Davos, ACOK) 

melisandre is not tolerant or curious. she views any religion that is not r’hllor as false. arya is familiar with r’hllor too. she has seen men rise from the dead before. she knows thoros of myr another red priest who receives visions too.

Soon she could even feel the heat in the air, as red R'hllor's worshipers lifted their voices in prayer. "For the night is dark and full of terrors," they prayed. Not for me. Her nights were bathed in moonlight and filled with the songs of her pack, with the taste of red meat torn off the bone, with the warm familiar smells of her grey cousins. Only during the days was she alone and blind. (Arya, ADWD) 

a major factor in this faith is fear of death and darkness. that is what melisandre preaches. she is terrified of the dark and won’t even let the lights go out in her chambers. which i think is a fascinating character trait for a character as old as her. fear of the dark is a trait associated with children. but arya, the child, learns early on to not fear the darkness. 

She had no time for sleep, with the weight of the world upon her shoulders. And she feared to dream. Sleep is a little death, dreams the whisperings of the Other, who would drag us all into his eternal night. (Melisandre, ADWD)

mel is afraid to dream and rarely sleeps because of it. she associates both with the great other. 

Some mornings Arya did not want to wake at all. She would huddle beneath her cloak with her eyes squeezed shut and try to will herself back to sleep. If the Hound would only have left her alone, she would have slept all day and all night. And dreamed. That was the best part, the dreaming. She dreamed of wolves most every night. A great pack of wolves, with her at the head. (Arya, ASOS) 

even if she sometimes struggles with nightmares(/depression) dreams have been a great source of comfort for arya more often than not. 

“The night is dark and full of terrors, the day bright and beautiful and full of hope. One is black, the other white. There is ice and there is fire. Hate and love. Bitter and sweet. Male and female. Pain and pleasure. Winter and summer. Evil and good." She took a step toward him. "Death and life. Everywhere, opposites. Everywhere, the war." (Davos, ASOS) 

the stance that melisandre takes is somewhat extreme. she subscribes to a completely black and white morality. melisandre's entire mission is to fight against death. she has done a better job than most. but even melisandre the red priestess of asshai cannot escape death forever. 

The kindly man chuckled. "He is a man like any other, with light in him and darkness. It is not for you to judge him." That gave her pause. "Have the gods judged him?" (Arya, ADWD) 

the faceless men are, obviously, a problematic institution, but they are teaching arya valuable lessons. the order is represented by the colors black and white - but they’re not at war. they are in balance. imo, this is going to be the outcome of the war to come. you cannot beat death. the faceless men are right when they say “valar morghulis”

"You are safe here. This is the House of Black and White, my child. Though you are young to seek the favor of the Many-Faced God." "Is he like the southron god, the one with seven faces?" "Seven? No. He has faces beyond count, little one, as many faces as there are stars in the sky. In Braavos, men worship as they will . . . but at the end of every road stands Him of Many Faces, waiting. He will be there for you one day, do not fear. You need not rush to his embrace." (Arya, AFFC) 

the hob&w, according to the kindly man, is “a place of peace” where death is “not the worst thing” and “always gentle”. the many faced god is the god of death and is therefore, likely, the great other from an entirely different perspective. death, despair, darkness are all parts of the human experience. they are often painful and scary, but everyone has to face them. 

Jon Snow turned to Melisandre. "What sorcery is this?" "Call it what you will. Glamor, seeming, illusion. R'hllor is Lord of Light, Jon Snow, and it is given to his servants to weave with it, as others weave with thread." [...] She made it sound a simple thing, and easy. They need never know how difficult it had been, or how much it had cost her. That was a lesson Melisandre had learned long before Asshai; the more effortless the sorcery appears, the more men fear the sorcerer. (Melisandre, ADWD)

"This will hurt," he warned her, "but pain is the price of power. Do not move." "Mummers change their faces with artifice," the kindly man was saying, "and sorcerers use glamors, weaving light and shadow and desire to make illusions that trick the eye. These arts you shall learn, but what we do here goes deeper. Wise men can see through artifice, and glamors dissolve before sharp eyes, but the face you are about to don will be as true and solid as that face you were born with."

She probed around inside her mouth with her tongue, but found no holes or broken teeth. Sorcery, she thought. I have a new face. An ugly, broken face. (Arya, ADWD)

they might be on opposing teams but the skills they use have quite a bit of overlap. both utilize sorcery and bloodmagic. these are difficult, costly, painful things to learn. melisandre is a very impressive sorceress because she’s studied her craft for so long. she is able to work several glamors at once. she’s also able to do her whole shadow baby assassin thing. 

if arya stuck around with the faceless men long enough she would learn glamor too. it’s not the faceless men’s trademark, though. they use bloodmagic from valyria to create disguises that cannot be seen through using the faces of the dead. arya’s been trained and has a sharp eye to begin with. i think if her and melisandre met arya would be able to see past her glamor which would be a really cool perspective. 

"The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you." "I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. "What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?" "Arya." His voice was hoarse. "My half-sister, truly …" (Jon, ADWD) 

“I told you that the Lord of Light would hear your prayers. You wanted a way to save your little sister and still hold fast to the honor that means so much to you, to the vows you swore before your wooden god." She pointed with a pale finger. "There he stands, Lord Snow. Arya's deliverance. A gift from the Lord of Light … and me." (Melisandre, ADWD) 

arya is completely unaware of melisandre’s existence, but the opposite is not true. melisandre has become an important figure on the wall. she is the one who comes up with the idea to send mance south to rescue “arya”. it seems melisandre is going to become a valuable ally to jon snow (she’s gonna bring his ass back to life lbr) and in the fight against the others. 

The king would only want to marry [Arya] to one of his own men, Horpe or Massey or Godry Giantslayer, and the gods alone knew what use the red woman might want to make of her. (Jon, ADWD)

it’s likely her and arya will cross paths at some point. it’s one of the meetings i’d be most excited to see. 

[beaulesbian]

[egghead spoilers, up to chapter 1110]

Sanji's humanity & Zoro's strength

(or lack thereof) - a theory of possible conflict between Luffy's wings before the end of Egghead arc. Long post ahead. Like.. very long post.

So the new chapter had a very interesting new "banter" between Sanji and Zoro, but no, actually just Sanji, because there was no usual back and forth quips followed after.

Yes, this whole post started because of these few panels: (" ...!!")

After rereading the chapter more times I realized, Sanji's not even speaking to Zoro or knows that Zoro can hear him. He's talking about Zoro, and calling him a burden to the team.

Which is just baffling to me? (fair, maybe I'm looking too much into it and next chapter it would be explained in different way) but for now, I need to put this out there and make my own small (long) theory on this.

There's lot to be said about the word burden here, and I will get to it later in the post, but for now, let's start with Sanji and his eyebrow!

It wouldn't be a perfect story if Oda didn't tangle threads of each respective characters from multiple arcs before and brought them up together later on during one of the most difficult times when Strawhats and Luffy are facing off with so much danger (reminds me of Sabaody but in a very different way).

In this instance Sanji's past could be brought up again, something that started worrying him since his fight with Queen in Wano, and especially given that his left eyebrow has been changing its shape quite a lot during the run of the Egghead arc.

Here's just few panels throughout end of Wano up to current Egghead chapter, where Sanji' left eyebrow is in the focus on the pages:

Chapter 1029 was the first part where Sanji was thinking his body might be undergoing some changes he couldn't control -broken bones insantly healed, stronger and faster than ever before, due to him beforehand using the Germa suit which possibly triggered this sort of superhuman modification he wasn't really aware of until then. When he realized he couldn't remember certain memories, he panicked, thinking he might be changing into something similar like his brothers, a scientific weapon created by his father. The worry and panic was all the more present because he thought he hurt someone without his knowing, and that'd slowly take away his kindness and sense of humanity. (Too bad I hoped the changes his body might be undergoing would only be realization of his non-cis gender status, but maybe that's still on the table for sometime in the future.):

^In this second panel his face is on purpose shadowed, which was the last time he was shown in that chapter,

and only again was in chapter 1031 - where his eyebrow changed:

and it takes him to think about Luffy and what his purpose would be if something so important of him would change. He knows why Luffy went after him in WCI, he knows what values are important for Luffy and his crew, and of course he doesn't want to be reminded of his family and his brothers and act as they did. He chooses the humanity, the kindness that Luffy loves in him.

Even to the extent to call Zoro and make a deal with him - to kill Sanji if anything would go wrong with him. "If I'm not in my right mind, I want you to kill me." That much trust he has in Zoro to protect the crew and Luffy!

Of course Zoro wouldn't do anything reckless without a good reason, but part of their banter and understanding each other would be to promise something like that - echo of Thriller Bark and the range of how far Zoro would go to take on someone elses pain. It's a promise to win their separate fights, but also this was something that Sanji put out there for Zoro to take notice of. (I will come back to that later.):

(still the "bad eyebrow" - he had that the whole chapter 1031).

After his fight with Queen (where it was also cleared what his actions were and weren't), he was only shown two times until he woke up, and both times he had his eyebrow back on good side.

1036 & 1044 (hearing Luffy awaken his powers):

All the way up to Egghead he seemed to have his eyebrow drawn this way, and it started to change only during fights -

ch 1075, still good eyebrow, tho.. ehh this behavior.. whatever:

ch. 1078, protecting his crew from Seraphim, bad eyebrow:

in between chapters 1090 - 1105 (most of which were flashbacks and Sanji nor Strawhats were shown) he appeared with his typical eyebrow:

and it changed again in ch 1107 - when he was again protecting Bonney / fighting against Kizaru:

interesting was chapter 1108 where he's standing between Saturn and Vegapunk, and he's describing Saturn with "he's less and less human by the minute" while his own face was obscured, (I mean.. interesting choice of words and what character said it, huh?):

and the next page he still has the bad eyebrow:

in chapter 1109 it's back on his typical side, where it continues from previous chapter of Sanji carrying Vegapunk- so at some point it must have shifted back (and I'm curious if these changes would be noticable in the animation). At this part he's watching how Saturn is summoning the other Gorosei to Egghead:

Which leads me to the point from above with Zoro.

chapter 1110 and their interactions (for me) was just off. I like their usual banter and bickering, it's funny (if it's in the manga and contained to few panels to make sense, not so much in the anime, but i'm not going into that now), but the thing to call anyone of their crew a "burden" just doesn't fit right. (Especially after WCI... c'mon Sanji, and especially to someone like Zoro, who's always the first one to think about the crew.)

I would understand it if he laughed along with the words to elevate their seriousness, or said something like "Finish it up, Mosshead, we need to get moving." but no. He calls him a burden. And again as I mentioned, it pretty much could have been even Sanji not realizing Zoro can hear that.

These words (in my opinion) were chosen on purpose for multiple reasons:

First we have the Zoro vs Lucci fight that goes on for a while in the real world - in the One Piece world it might be just few minutes - plus we don't know how tough were the fights with the Seraphim which let others be injured.

When Lucci attacked, Zoro immediately thrown himself with him away from the rest of the crew. Zoro was possibly stalling with the fight for time to leave. I feel he could have finished that fight earlier but that wasn't the point. The point might have been to hold him back from his crew.

also this was possibly the only fight after King where Zoro could test the limits of his powers and haki, just like Luffy in the Udon prison in Wano was basically training, this (and the Seraphim fights we haven't seen) could be something similar for Zoro.

Some people think that just because of these characters getting new powers it means they already understand how to use them/how it works, but that's usually not the point of how stories go - there can be progress and there can be setbacks, growing up but also falling back down, which makes the stories more interesting.

The words that Lucci used against Zoro were basically the same thing that Sanji said to Zoro few chapters later:

Amongst them he pointed out the Strawhats inability to cut off one of their own out of their crew to save others - like Lucci left Kaku behind just chapters before this fight when he attacked Vegapunk and Stussy (and Sanji trapped Kaku in the bubble prison). It's a play on very different characters and how they think and act to show clearly how they different they are.

The words burden or dead-weight really stood out, already when Lucci said it in chapter 1107, and the fact that they were targetting Zoro - someone who always blames himself (in his mind, not usually out loud) for not being strong enough, and someone who always has protecting his crew at the first place, was interesting in the connection to Sanji repeating basically the same words in the latest chapter.

I will probably make a different separate post only focusing on Zoro and his fear of being weak, but for the purposes of this post, just to pick a few moments where it's important in the manga:

One of the first time I've noticed how much Zoro keeps berating himself with words like "not strong enough" "too lax" "still too soft" "if I'd been stronger/ faster/ better..."

was just after Little Garden arc, where he almost cut off his ankles just to keep fighting. Time after time the crew encounters strong enemies and Zoro gets a new understanding how far up is the limit that he has to reach to keep the crew safe, so he keeps training. ch. 129:

When Luffy went to fight Crocodile and Zoro was worried and kept training on the way to Alubarna, this banter between Sanji and Zoro felt typical between them - it's about the two way street, the back and forth (that's why that new chapter and insult from Sanji feels so foreign, there's no reply, not quip back - only silence and some sort of determination, which isn't good nor bad, just.. weird.) ch. 179:

and after the final fight of Alabasta, possibly one of the first times I really started paying attention to how much it gets to Zoro, this question of how strong he needs to be. (along with what possibly was one of the first introduction of his haki and how he began training the Observation haki, disguised as meditation in the terms of the early manga) ch. 213:

Thriller Bark was one of the biggest arcs in this sense of Zoro and his protectiveness towards the crew and Sanji knows that - he knows what happened there, he even wanted to sacrifice himself in stead of Zoro for Luffy (but this is beside the point here, and I talked about it in other post before).

Zoro took on himself Luffy's pain, and after that arc he still went right to train as soon as he could despite being still injured, ch. 490. "still too weak!"

which goes through to Sabaody arc.

Chapter 510 until the end of that arc is just painful to go through again. Luffy was worried for Zoro and didn't know the scope of his injuries, while Sanji knew and was concerned in his own way too - that is another thing of how they care, sometimes wordlessly but there is that understanding of what to mention or not. ("Burden" still shouldn't be one of the words to use between them, not that far into the story.)

Now - fast forward to Punk Hazard where one of similar moments played out - Zoro telling Luffy not to goof around because they got in the New world and needed to take things seriously.

It was one of those small moments where Sanji was actually one of the few people shown with reaction to Zoro's words and his urgency, ch 678:

Sanji saying "He's so tough on himself" really puts into perspective how he sees Zoro - he knows what he's been through, and knows to what extremes he's willing to go to protect his crew.

He's definitely not someone who would carelessly call Zoro "a burden" even in the time and place and situation they found themselves on Egghead, if anything, he was supposed to be one of the first ones to know how serious is Zoro always about protecting the crew. (Even in the beginning of Egghead, Zoro stayed at first on the Sunny because "who will save them when they will need saving.")

There's few others scenes and parts where Zoro questions his worth and strength, especially in later Wano, calculating what needs to be done so they have strength to face off with Kaido, ch 980:

and later against King, ch 1033 "it was my strength that was lacking!" while unlocking his Conqueror's haki, still unknowingly:

The fact that it's been happening pretty much since the beginning of the story - how Zoro views himself as not strong enough, yet persisting in always getting stronger and protecting his crew - means so much for what character Zoro is and how much he values and loves his crew (just like all the other Strawhats in different ways), and also, as I've been catching up so quickly with the manga, there's been that hope for some call out of this behavior, to poke it where it hurts, to see what would happen if someone turns those words Zoro possibly feels in his mind against him out loud. And that's kind of what's been happening lately - and I'm curious what impact will this have on both Zoro personally and on the other Strawhats, depending who will be around for the conclusion.

Zoro is one of the few strawhats really thinking about the future, plans and what they need to still fight through, carefully calculating what his opponents might be doing, how strong they are and how much of a problem it would be to go through them.

And Sanji normally understands that, he knows how Zoro works and the other way around, that's why he still protected him when Zoro was injured, (if anything, in this moment Zoro could have been something like hinderance or annoyance to Sanji, yet he never said something like that), ch. 1015:

Even on Egghead, where there was temporary truce with Lucci and Kaku, Zoro pointed out how to recognize the Seraphim's weaknesses, and apologized for 'wasting their stamina' - again, calculating on his strength, ch. 1077:

Zoro isn't just fighting for the sake of a fight, he does have his dream and does know what's important to focus on (he himself always keeps the crew in focus when it's important!)

So it's difficult to have a conclusion about the whole Zoro vs Lucci fight without knowing what is Zoro thinking - hopefully in next chapter we will have more info on it (that is number 1111 - Zoro's birthday and bounty! so I hope it will be a big focus on Zoro again). But even beside that, it was obvious in such short time two people around him suddenly called him a burden to his team - something he takes very close to his heart and mind, something that will hopefully have some consequences for us to see and read, because as Oda is choosing words definitely carefully to have the right impact, two very similar words like "burden" don't seem like a coincidence.

To wrap this up - with Sanji telling this to Zoro felt different than their usuall banter, and as I said before - maybe because Sanji wasn't even speaking to Zoro. At the same time, on Wano Sanji gave Zoro a clue that somehting was happening with him, the fact that there was a panel with just Zoro's ear twitching and then being silent, thinking, and not replying to Sanji with anything that would hint to us about his state of mind, and it could mean he's also aware of some difference in Sanji's acting.

The way he says this reminds me of the what Sanji was thinking during his fight with Queen - "what would be more useful to Luffy, regular flesh-and-blood body? Or a cruel, cold emotionless warrior of science." Even for this small part of seeing him speak with Jimbei and hearing what Zoro was up to until then, he speaks without almost any emotions beside anger? Even with his eyebrow not indicating the change, precisely, it doesn't have to be connected in this way, except physical fights, but there could be something still changing within Sanji to make him act this way, a way that really isn't something we've seen before. I think if in next chapters he speaks to Nami, Robin or some other woman without his typical over-the-top pleasanteries, it could indicate how much of a problem this could be for the Strawhats.

So we have Sanji's need to stay human and kind, the pact created with Zoro to kill him if anything felt wrong; and we have Zoro - someone who's biggest purpose from the beginning was to protect the crew and Luffy, while many times we've seen him question his own strength, and now two people in the span of like 5 minutes in the One Piece time are calling him a burden.

It will be interesting to see if this is heading towards a clash or conflict between Luffy's wings while Luffy needs the support to fight / flee from the Gorosei.

To end this too long post, I feel it's very on point for One Piece not to have a sole focus on just one character going through it™ in one arc, but it's always a few crumbs here and few hints there. This sort of conflict would be perfect to deal with both of Zoro and Sanji's respective fears - because this is very much about fears in their minds, while at the same time if they can resolve this, it would only strengthen their crew once again.

[melluvsuu]

“ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 . ”

character : dazai osamu

context : you’re an agent going undercover, you encounter port mafia executive dazai. he finds you interesting. yeah..

authors note : you should listen to the diner by Billie ellish to get the vibe to it.

warning : stalker briefly mentioned, stalker!dazai, can be interpreted romantically or whatever, shout out to my bbg @riiwrites 😼☝🏽, murder and blood mentioned too, gender not mentioned, literally we rock with they/them 💋‼️.. uhm I think that’s all gays yeah..

,, 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓. 𝜚

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐘 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒, the last remnants of daylight clinging stubbornly to the horizon. It was a view [name] had come to appreciate, standing on the balcony of the modest clinic where [name] built their cover. As a doctor specialising in human behaviour, their role was simple enough—listen, observe, and blend in. Standing there in viewing the people going about their days, [name] ran their fingers along the balcony’s iron railing, feeling the coolness of the metal beneath their skin. In this quiet neighbourhood, [name] was simply known as Dr. [name]—a doctor who listened to the woes of the weary, a person who could help people understand the storms in their minds. In some ways, [name] had taken to the role more naturally than they expected. It wasn’t far from what I had trained for, after all. But beneath that calm exterior, my real purpose was far more pressing.

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the papers on my desk inside the small office. I stepped back inside, closing the door behind me as I glanced at the scattered reports and profiles I’d been reviewing. Every interaction I had here was a potential lead—every patient, every conversation was a thread that might lead me to the missing documents. I was hunting for the whispers in the crowd, the signs that something was about to crack.

I sat down and opened one of the files again. A name stared back at me—Takeda Masaru, a local journalist with a reputation for being nosey. He had been in to see me twice, under the guise of seeking help for stress and insomnia. But I knew better. Knocking me out of my train of thought, my smartwatch started vibrating. It was morse code.

‘GOOD EVENING AGENT [NAME], IT'S NICE TO YOU ALIVE AND WELL.WE HAVE NEW INTEL. THERE'S BEEN SIGHTING AT THE LOADING. THE DOCUMENTS SHOULD BE THERE. IT SHOULD BE A DARK RED CARGO BOX WITH THE NAME ‘MELLUVS ART AND WRITING SUPPLIES’ . QUICKLY GET THERE BEFORE ANYBODY INTERVENES. BEST OF LUCK TO YOU.’

I quickly changed my clothing still keeping my pants and shoes and swapping my glasses with sunglasses, my shirt with a business shirt. Taking my coat off the rack I jumped off of the railing onto the pavement. The cold air hitting my face, I felt that familiar rush of adrenaline. The peaceful exterior I’d adopted as a doctor was peeling away, revealing the true purpose behind the mask.

I arrived at the loading dock slipping past guards. While remaining on my toes, looking around, finding the maroon cargo box, picking the lock, catching it before it could fall can make noise. Opening the door and sorting through papers. I found the papers of the document, putting the papers in my doctors folder, I turned to step out just to be greeted with…

"Are you lost?" a voice rang out behind them.

“I’m sorry?” You turned towards the stranger with a simple smile.

“I said, are you lost? Dr. [name].” He repeated.

Standing in the shadow of a weathered chimney was a young man, barely older than them, with an unsettlingly casual grin. His black hair fell messily over his eyes, his posture loose and unthreatening, but I knew better than to trust appearances. There was something sharp beneath that smile.

“Ah. No I’m not..”

"Dazai Osamu," the man introduced himself, stepping closer without a care in the world. "What a coincidence, meeting you here."

"Coincidence?" [name]’s voice was flat, unamused. "I don’t believe in coincidences."

Dazai’s grin widened. "Smart. I don’t either."

This wasn’t good. My mission had suddenly become complicated—this was Dazai, a notorious figure in the Port Mafia, rumoured to be both brilliant and dangerous. Getting caught up with him was exactly what their agency warned them about. But retreating now would be even worse. They couldn't afford to show any weakness.

"You’re in my way," I stated plainly, their eyes locked onto him. Dazai’s expression flickered briefly with interest.

"Am I?" he mused, not moving an inch. Instead, his eyes gleamed with curiosity. "I wonder what someone like you is doing up here. You don’t seem like the usual riffraff the mafia deals with. You're different."

I said nothing. They were trained to maintain a poker face, but they could feel Dazai’s gaze piercing through them, searching for cracks.

After a tense silence, I decided it was better to end this encounter quickly. "I have no business with you. Walk away."

Dazai’s grin softened into something almost playful. "I could say the same. But I don’t feel like walking away just yet. You intrigue me."

Before you could respond, a shout echoed from the alley below—footsteps, too many of them. The mission wasn’t over yet. With a sharp glance at Dazai, [name] moved quickly, shoving him out the way with the documents I hand, disappearing into the shadows of the cargo port.

𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟 . ♡ . 𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎢

The mission was complete, the documents recovered, and the city’s fragile calm preserved. Days passed, and YN pushed the encounter with Dazai to the back of their mind. They believed they had left him behind in that port, a fleeting figure from a fleeting night.

But they were wrong.

It began with small sightings—first at a diner near one of their agency’s hideouts, a quaint place where [name] often went to clear their mind. They walked in for a quiet moment, only to find Dazai, seated by the window, sipping his coffee as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His eyes met theirs, and that familiar grin spread across his face.

The next time, it was at their ‘job’. [name] worked as a hired security operative for a private military company, and the sight of Dazai loitering near the building was more than unsettling. He didn’t approach them, but his presence was a constant reminder that he was watching.

The evening air felt heavy as [name] returned home from a long shift, exhaustion pulling at their every step. They hadn’t noticed the lingering presence outside, the demon in the shadows, waiting. The lock clicked into place behind them as they shut the door, and for a moment, they stood still, listening. No footsteps followed. The silence was almost comforting.

They kicked off their shoes, fingers absently unbuttoning their dress shirt, craving nothing more than the solace of the couch. As they sank into it, something caught their eye—an envelope, placed conspicuously on the coffee table. A surge of unease rippled through their tired mind, heart beginning to race as they reached for the envelope, fingers brushing the edge of the paper with caution. Slowly, they opened it, their eyes scanning the contents.

‘THIS IS A REALLY NICE PLACE YOU’VE GOT HERE! MIND IF I MOVE IN? I HOPE YOU’RE READING THIS SILLY NOTE! I MIGHT’VE STOLEN SOME DOCUMENTS AND IMPORTANT FILES FROM YOUR OFFICE, SORRY, AGENT [NAME]~!’

A low groan of frustration escaped their lips as they crumpled the note and tossed it into the garbage. [name] rubbed their temples, too drained to deal with the antics of a certain mafioso tonight. Just as they tried to let the tension slip away, they caught sight of something—someone—standing on the balcony.

Their heart skipped a beat, and instinctively, they reached for their gun, gripping it tightly as they cautiously approached the window. They slid it open with precision, never taking their eyes off the figure leaning against the railing. "You’re persistent," [name] said, gun ready but posture steady.

The man on the balcony didn’t seem fazed by the weapon. Dazai Osamu smiled as if this were all part of a game. "And you’re elusive," he countered, voice light and carefree. But there was something beneath that tone, something deeper, lurking behind the casual amusement in his gaze. "I like people who don’t give themselves away so easily."

[name] sighed, lowering the gun but keeping it in hand. Arms crossed, they met his eyes with thinly veiled exasperation. "What do you want, Dazai?"

He tilted his head slightly, as though considering the question, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I’ve been trying to figure that out. You’re… interesting. And I’m rarely interested in anyone."

"Flattering," [name] muttered, voice laced with sarcasm as their patience wore thin. "But I’ve got work to do."

Dazai’s expression shifted, his grin softening, but his presence growing more intense as he stepped closer. "I know," he said quietly. "That’s what makes this so fun. You, with your little secrets and dangerous missions… I can’t help but want to unravel it all."

"You can’t follow me forever," [name] warned, voice quieter now, each word a warning laced with resolve.

Dazai’s smile softened further, almost genuine. "Maybe not," he agreed, his voice low, "but I can follow you for a little while longer.”

“Get the hell out of my apartment,” [name] snapped, their voice sharp as they levelled the gun at Dazai. The cold metal clicked audibly as they cocked it, a clear threat in the air. They pointed toward the door, eyes hard and unyielding. “Do it now, or I'll shoot you.”

Dazai’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it widened, his eyes gleaming with that same unsettling amusement, as if the threat didn’t faze him in the slightest. He raised his hands in mock surrender, but his body remained relaxed, nonchalant, as though he were in complete control of the situation.

“Shoot me?” he mused, voice light but laced with something darker. “Now, now, Agent [name] that seems a bit extreme, doesn’t it?”

“You think I’m joking?” [name] growled, finger hovering dangerously over the trigger.

Dazai took a step closer, completely unbothered by the barrel pointed at him. His voice dropped to a near whisper, his eyes locking with theirs. “No, I don’t. That’s what makes this so exciting.”

There was a tension in the room now, thick and palpable. [name] held their ground, but Dazai’s calmness, his lack of fear—it was disarming. He was playing a game they weren’t sure they could win.

“Get out.” [name] demanded, not lowering the gun but sensing this encounter was only going to spiral deeper.

Dazai’s smile softened just a touch, his tone almost genuine. “Nope~!”

“You’re testing my patience,” [name] warned, heart pounding but steady, still aiming squarely at his chest.

“Good,” Dazai murmured, stepping back toward the balcony door. “I like it when people have limits. It gives me something to push.”

With a final glance, he gave them a playful wink. “Until next time, Agent.” Then, as quickly and casually as he had appeared, Dazai slipped out, leaving the tension in the room behind him like a lingering shadow.

[name] stood still, their gun still raised, breaths coming in heavy. The sense of danger hadn’t left—it was only a matter of time before he returned.

additional author notes : ending kinda sucked ass again smh..

word count: 1k

reposts are welcome but do not steal my work!

[herstoryheaven]

Draco Malfoy x Reader: Venom And Vulnerability

Prompt: Y/n, a Muggle-born Slytherin, struggles to fit in among pure-bloods, especially under the torment of Draco Malfoy. As their rivalry evolves into something deeper, Draco becomes Y/n's unexpected source of comfort, leading to an unlikely romance.

Reader: Gender Neutral

Word count: 3259

Average reading time: 11 min 50 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: This story contains themes of emotional distress, bullying, and manipulation. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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The Slytherin common room was as cold as ever, the air thick with whispers and sneers. I sat in my usual corner, pretending to read a book I had no interest in. My eyes drifted over the same sentence repeatedly, unable to focus as the flames in the fireplace flickered, casting chilling shadows across the stone walls. This place had always felt more like a cage than a home.

It wasn’t easy being a muggle-born in Slytherin. From the moment the sorting hat declared “Slytherin!” on my first day, the room had gone deadly silent. The weight of all those eyes on me had been suffocating. I had tried to shake off the discomfort, standing tall and proud, but deep down, I knew that my life in Slytherin was going to be a constant battle.

The pure-bloods saw me as a freak, a mistake. It didn’t matter how well I performed in classes or how hard I tried to fit in. They only saw my blood status, something that, in their eyes, made me less than them. And no one reminded me of that more often than Draco Malfoy.

“Oi, Y/n, can’t you find somewhere else to lurk?” Pansy Parkinson’s shrill voice cut through the common room like a knife. She was sitting with Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode, all of them staring at me with matching sneers.

I looked up, meeting her gaze with a cold glare. “This is my common room too, Parkinson. I’ll sit wherever I please.”

She snorted, her lips curling in disapproval. “You’d think with your background, you’d be more… respectful to your betters.”

Millicent and Daphne giggled, a sharp, mocking sound that grated against my nerves. I felt a surge of anger rising within me, the kind that burned hot and bright, but I forced it down. I wanted to lash out, to say something cutting, but I knew it would only make things worse. They thrived on my reactions, and I refused to give them the satisfaction.

Before I could respond, Malfoy walked over, his usual entourage of Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him. His silver eyes locked onto mine, and I braced myself for whatever cruel remarks he had in store.

“Still playing pretend, Y/n?” Draco’s voice was smooth, laced with mockery. “I’m sure the professors find your little act amusing, but we all know the truth, don’t we?”

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to remain calm. “And what truth is that, Malfoy?”

He stepped closer, his presence looming over me like a storm cloud ready to burst. “That you don’t belong here. No matter how hard you try, you’ll never be one of us.”

The words stung, more than I cared to admit. It felt like he had taken the doubts that plagued me every night and voiced them for the whole world to hear. But I wouldn’t let him see that. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “You don’t get to decide who belongs here, Malfoy.” I spat, my voice shaking slightly despite my best efforts.

His smirk widened, as if he could sense the cracks in my armor. “No, but the rest of us do. And it seems like the agreement is pretty clear.”

I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the hurt in my eyes, so I looked away, staring at the flickering flames in the fireplace. They reflected in his eyes, cold and unyielding, as he leaned in closer.

“Leave her alone, Draco.” Blaise Zabini’s voice cut in from behind him. Blaise, one of the few Slytherins who didn’t actively partake in the daily harassment, stepped forward, his dark eyes narrowed at Draco.

Draco glanced at Blaise, his expression tightening for just a moment, something unreadable passing between them. He looked almost… conflicted. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that infuriating smirk. “You’re lucky, Y/n.” he said, his tone cold and dismissive. “Zabini’s got a soft spot for lost causes.”

His words hit harder than they should have. They made me feel small, insignificant, like a mistake that shouldn’t even exist. But instead of breaking down, I felt anger build up, hot and blinding. I opened my mouth to snap back, to say something, anything, to wipe that smug look off his face, but the words died on my tongue.

Draco turned and walked away, his friends following after him like obedient shadows. I stayed rooted to the spot, the sting of his words lingering in the air long after he was gone. Blaise gave me a small nod before turning back to his book, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I knew he meant well, but his intervention only made things worse. It reminded me of how isolated I was in this house, how I was constantly in need of someone’s protection, as if I were some fragile thing that couldn’t stand on its own.

I tried to push the encounter out of my mind as I returned to my book, but the words blurred on the page, my frustration and hurt boiling just beneath the surface. I could feel the eyes of my housemates on me, their judgment like a physical weight pressing down on my shoulders. The walls of the common room seemed to close in, the air growing colder, heavier, with every passing second.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Slamming my book shut, I stood up abruptly, the noise echoing in the silent room. Heads turned in my direction, and I could feel their eyes on me, filled with judgment, disdain, and worst of all, pity.

Ignoring the whispered insults that followed me, I stormed out of the common room, my footsteps echoing harshly against the stone floors. I needed to get away, to find somewhere I could breathe, somewhere I didn’t feel the constant suffocation of their expectations and judgments on muggle-borns.

As I hurried away, I couldn’t help but glance back, just once. Draco was still watching me, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that almost looked like regret. It caught me off guard, and for a moment, I hesitated, but then I shook my head, pushing the thought away. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. I couldn’t let myself believe that he cared, not after all these years.

The dungeons were dark and cold, the silence broken only by the echo of my footsteps as I wandered aimlessly. My thoughts swirled in a chaotic mess, a storm of anger, hurt, and confusion. How much longer could I keep this up? How much longer could I pretend that their words didn’t affect me?

I turned a corner and found myself in an empty classroom. The door creaked as I pushed it open, and I slipped inside, closing it behind me. The room was dimly lit by a few scattered candles, the shadows dancing on the walls like specters.

It was here, in the silence, that everything I had been holding back finally broke free. The anger, the pain, the loneliness, all of it came crashing down on me, and I collapsed against the wall, my knees giving out as the first sob escaped my lips.

I buried my face in my hands, my body shaking with the force of my cries. I had fought so hard to be strong, to prove that I belonged in Slytherin, but it felt like I was losing the battle. No matter what I did, it was never enough. They would never accept me, never see me as anything other than a Muggle-born intruder.

All I wanted was to belong, to feel like I had a place in this world that didn’t require me to constantly fight for every scrap of respect. But here, in the heart of Slytherin, surrounded by those who saw me as less than, I felt more alone than ever.

-----

I sat there, my body trembling from the force of my sobs, when the door creaked open behind me. I was too lost in my misery to care who had found me, too consumed by the hurt to acknowledge their presence.

“Y/n.” Draco’s voice broke the silence, slicing through the darkness like a knife. My breath hitched in my throat, tension flooding my veins. Of all the people who could have walked in, he was the last person I wanted to see.

“Go away,” I choked out, my voice hoarse and broken. “Just… leave me alone.”

But instead of the retreating footsteps I longed to hear, I listened as the door closed softly, the sound final, like a lock clicking into place. His footsteps drew closer, slow and steady, and before I could react, I felt his hands on me. He pulled me into his chest with a firmness that made it clear he wasn’t planning to let go.

I stiffened in his arms, my entire body locking up at the unexpected contact. “Let me go.” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I weakly tried to push him away. But he didn’t budge. Instead, he held me tighter, the warmth of his body pressing against the cold that had settled in my bones, threatening to melt the ice that had formed around my heart.

“I’m not letting you go.” Draco murmured, his breath warm against my ear. His voice, usually so sharp and cutting, was surprisingly gentle, sending a shiver down my spine. “Not until you listen to me.”

I struggled against him, my fists feebly pounding against his chest, but it was no use. I was too drained, too tired to fight him, and fresh tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. “Why are you doing this?” I cried, my voice breaking under the weight of my despair. “Why now? After everything…”

“Because I’ve been a fool.” he confessed, his voice thick with an emotion I had never heard from him before, regret. “I’ve been blind, and I’ve hurt you in ways I can never take back. But I’m here now, Y/n. I’m here, and I’m not going to let you go.”

His words only made me cry harder, the fight draining out of me as I slumped against him, my hands clutching at his robes in desperation. It was as if he was the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely. “You don’t understand.” I sobbed, my voice muffled against his chest. “You’ll never understand…”

“Maybe not.” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear in a way that sent another shiver down my spine. “But I want to. I want to make things right, Y/n. Please, just… let me.”

I shook my head, the pain in my chest overwhelming, crushing. “You can’t. It’s too late. I’m broken, Draco. I’m so tired of fighting…”

His arms tightened around me, his voice dropping to a low, soothing murmur as he held me close. “Then stop fighting, Y/n. Stop fighting me. And let me care for you.”

His words wrapped around me like a promise, tempting me to believe, to trust in something I wasn’t sure I could. “How can I trust you?” I whispered, my voice trembling as I looked up at him, my tear-streaked face searching his for any sign of deception.

Draco pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt my chin up with the tips of his fingers, forcing me to meet his gaze. His silver eyes, usually so cold and calculating, now held a sincerity that made my heart ache. “I know I don’t deserve your trust,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing softly against my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “But I’m going to earn it, Y/n. Every day, I’m going to prove to you that I’m not the same person I was. Because you’re worth it. You’re worth everything.”

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his breath ghosting over my lips as he hovered there for a moment, giving me a chance to pull away. When I didn’t, he pressed his lips to mine, capturing my mouth in a kiss that was both tender and possessive, filled with all the things he couldn’t say.

The kiss stole the breath from my lungs, leaving me dizzy and disoriented. I was too shocked to respond at first, my mind struggling to catch up with the reality of what was happening. But then, something inside me snapped, and I found myself kissing him back, my hands fisting in his robes as I pulled him closer, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly turned upside down.

Draco growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips as he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding up to tangle in my hair, holding me in place as he took control. His other hand trailed down my back, his touch firm and possessive, sending sparks of heat through my body.

He pulled away slightly, his lips hovering just over mine as he whispered, “You’re mine, Y/n. No one else’s. Do you understand?” His voice was low and rough, filled with a need that made my knees weak.

I nodded, unable to find my voice, too overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered. He smirked, satisfied with how easily I gave in, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth, then my jaw, then lower, his lips trailing down the side of my neck.

My breath hitched as he found the sensitive spot just below my ear, his lips and teeth teasing the skin there. “Draco…” I whispered, my voice trembling as I clutched at him, unsure whether I was trying to pull him closer or push him away.

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against my skin as he continued to pepper kisses along my neck, his hand sliding under my robes to caress the bare skin of my back. “I’ve got you.” he murmured, his voice soothing as he pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine in a way that made my head spin. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, not anymore. You’re safe with me.”

He tilted my head to the side, his lips brushing over my ear as he whispered, “You’re the princess of Slytherin now, my princess, and I’ll make sure you will always be happy and protected, Y/n. I swear it.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I closed my eyes, letting myself get lost in the feeling of his lips on my skin, the warmth of his body against mine. For the first time in a long time, I felt… safe. Protected. And as much as I wanted to hold onto my anger, my hurt, I found it slipping away, replaced by something softer, something that scared me even more.

Draco’s lips found mine again, and this time, the kiss was slower, more careful, as if he was savoring the moment, committing every detail to memory. When he finally pulled back, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other’s.

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/n.” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet determination that made my heart skip a beat. “I’m going to prove to you that you can trust me, that I’m not the same person I was. And I’ll start by protecting you from anyone who dares to hurt you.”

His words wrapped around me like a promise, a vow that he would keep no matter what it took. And as much as I wanted to doubt him, to push him away, I found myself nodding, my heart daring to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. That maybe, with him by my side, I didn’t have to fight alone anymore.

-----

After that night, everything between Draco and me changed.

The walls that had once divided us were replaced with a connection I never thought possible. Draco, who had been the source of so much pain and frustration, now became the one person I could rely on. The harsh, cold demeanor he had always worn like armor softened whenever we were alone, revealing a side of him that I had never imagined existed.

In the days that followed, Draco made good on his promises. His change was nothing short of impressive. He was always there, watching over me, making sure that no one dared to hurt me again. The whispers in the common room, once so biting and cruel, began to fade away. No one wanted to cross Draco Malfoy, and with him by my side, they knew better than to even try.

Our relationship, though new, was intense. Draco was possessive, his protective streak evident in everything he did. He walked me to every class, sat with me during meals, and his gaze never strayed far from me when we were in the common room. It was as if he had devoted himself to protecting me, and in some strange way, I found comfort in that.

But it wasn’t just about protection. Draco was unexpectedly tender, constantly surprising me with small gestures of affection. He would brush his fingers lightly against my hand under the table, or tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear as we studied in the library. He was always near, his presence like a shield against the rest of the world.

And at night, when the weight of the day would press down on me, he was there to hold me, to whisper soothing words in my ear until the anxiety and fear melted away. He would trail kisses along my skin, his touch gentle yet firm, grounding me in the moment, reminding me that I wasn’t alone.

There were moments when the old doubts would creep in, when I would question how things had changed so quickly, but Draco was always there to quiet those fears. “I'm yours, love.” he would murmur, his voice filled with a possessive tenderness that both thrilled and terrified me. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

The Draco Malfoy who had once been my enemy was gone, replaced by someone who saw me, who valued me. He wasn’t perfect, he still had a temper, still had his moments of arrogance, but with me, he was different. He was softer, more open, his sharp edges dulled by the feelings he clearly struggled to express. And I found myself falling for him, despite everything, despite all the reasons why I shouldn’t.

But perhaps the most surprising thing was how natural it felt. What had started as a relationship forged out of pain and misunderstanding had transformed into something deeper, something real. We were still figuring things out, still navigating the complexities of our feelings, but we were doing it together.

In Draco’s arms, I found the safety and security I had craved for so long. And in me, Draco found someone who accepted him for who he was, flaws and all. We were an unlikely pair, the Muggle-born Slytherin and the prince of pure-blood supremacy, but somehow, it worked.

Draco had become my protector, my confidant, and, against all odds, my lover. And as we stood together, facing the world that had once sought to tear me apart, I knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, we would face them side by side. Because, for the first time I didn’t feel alone. I felt cherished. I felt loved.

And that was worth everything.

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[mountkennedie]

Plants

Loki x reader

Summary: you visit Loki in his personal library

warnings: Loki season 2 reference (sorry BUT I HAD TO), fluff

A.N. gender fluid Loki means everything to me

The young prince of Asgard had many places he frequented. His room, of course, everyone loves their room. A certain shadowed place in the kingdom gardens that he thinks only he knows about. And lastly, in the place he was in now, the library. For his birthday, it had been gifted to him. There already was a library in the palace. This was really just a smaller version of it. However, this one supplied only his favorite genres, and when that idea was proposed, I don't think the person was aware of Loki's reading history. He has many favorite genres, and space in the smaller library was filled quickly.

You had nothing better to do to spend your time. And usually that meant you would find your best friend of many years. Contrary to popular belief, you knew to check the library first. It makes sense to go to his room, but you know better. He didn't actually have many books in his room. It was a guideline set by his mother so that he would sleep at night instead of read the hours away. All the books inside had been read cover to cover so many times he could probably recite them at any given moment.

Approaching the doors, there were two guards standing watch. "Is Loki in today?" You knew their names, and honestly, more than you probably should for the royal guards. Their jobs were protection, not chatter. But who could resist a little break from that strict code? Especially when you would ask the most random yet interesting questions you could think of.

"If you had the choice of only being able to see one color for the rest of your days, which one would you choose?"

"My lady, I have been advised to limit conversation that does not concern the safety of the kingdom. But also a nice blue would not be bad."

"Yes, my lady, he is. Would you prefer an introduction?" He asked.

"That won't be necessary." They both nodded their heads and opened the doors for me to enter. The room was beautifully lit. The lanterns were a lovely touch, with the edition of the small candles added a very cozy feeling. Luckily, the windows in the corners of the room had been cracked. Neither of you could stand the smell of standing smoke. There were two couches in the center of the room. They were large and rather dramatic, the edition of the green velvet cushions added to the atmosphere.

Upon one to those couches was the one you had been looking for. Stretched out on the right couch, new book in hand. The title was something you couldn't make out. Their fingers covered it perfectly. "You know you can ask instead of trying to sneakily figure it out," they quipped. They finally looked up and smirked at you.

You helped yourself to sit down on the adjacent couch. "No, I am good with sneaking glances," you replied in a similar tone.

He huffed and placed his book down on the table. "Is there nothing interesting going on in the palace? That is why you violate my one place of solace?" He kept his tone light, so you knew his cruel words were nothing but words.

"Oh, I just knew you missed my presence so much. I had to cease your worries and needs." The pair of you could go on for hours if you both wanted. But instead of that, you needed him to answer something. "Loki, if you were a plant, what plant would you be?"

"That's what has been plaguing you today?" She sat up, and you mirrored her. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, "If I was a plant..."

"I have an idea of what I think you'd be, but I still am curious as to what you think." You rested your head on your hands facing him. Your smile of amusement gleamed on your face. You loved watching her in deep thought.

"Well, help me out. What would you be?" Their smile matched yours. It grew bigger when your brows knitted in concentration.

"I think I would be a fern. A nice pretty fern with a big wide leaf span. I would make all the other ferns jealous," You finished your sentiment with a theatrical voice. You had been thinking of this for a little bit. And by a little bit, it was really what you were thinking about on the way here.

"I could easily see you passing as a fern. As for me... I can see myself as some form of tree. Maybe a weeping willow or a variation of it." When he finished his thought, he looked back down at you.

"I was thinking more of a strong oak tree, growing tall and providing shade for anyone lucky enough to walk near you." He looked at you after you said that. Not with the typical look of a friend, but of something more weighted. You could really only hope that was what you were seeing. The growing feelings of adoration towards the god had only gotten more intense over time. You've heard of many seeing the world through rose colored glasses. You could wish that your vision was clear.

"Thank you," They looked like they wanted to say more. And you implored they would. But instead, you both continued the intense eye contact you both had been holding. The air was too thick for your lungs to carry. You wanted them to make the first move because you were frozen. "Y/n?"

Your name was spoken in the way a lover would address another. You said a silent prayer that your eyes were not scarlet sensitive in this moment. "Loki?" Your voice was barely stronger than a whisper. He stood and approached your couch. You stood up and moved to be in front of him.

"It is my turn to ask you something." He took a deep breath and took your hands in his. "I need to know now, have your feelings toward me ever been more than... platonic?" His eyes were full of fear. But you also could see how badly he needed to hear your response.

You managed to get one gust of air inside your long awaiting lungs. You looked into his eyes one last time as a friend, then said, "Yes."

He blinked twice as the clarity rolled over him. His hands lightly squeezed yours, "Even now?" His voice was something you had never heard before. It was frail and desperate. You nearly wanted to apologize for putting him through such torment.

You thought of your next words thoroughly. "Especially now," you squeezed his hands back in the same manner. She sighed and shut her eyes. You did the same, and you both rested your foreheads on the others. Without word, your both tilted your heads up and let your lips collide.

You were not sure who sighed into the kiss, but it was still an accurate representation of the need for action. It stayed slow, but not any less passionate as a kiss of messy fire. When you both pulled apart, your hands stayed conjoined. No one spoke. No words could describe what was flowing between you two.

Eyes closed and lips locked yet again. Again and again and again.