#never truly separate no matter the distance between them

[nhaneh]

Miqo'March 10 - Promise

- "It is my promise to you. That so long as you carry it, a part of me will always reside with you. That, no matter how far apart we are, so long as I still have life left in me to spend, I will always strive to find my way back home. To you.

[enviedear]

LOVING ALONE IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT

₊ ⊹ JASON TODD

🧸ྀི REQUEST | jason having (what he thinks is) an unrequited crush

CW | lovesick!jason with issues accepting love, just-a-buncha fluff. 1.6k words. 🎧ྀི

your eyes flicker to your window for the hundredth time in ten minutes. there's an attempt at forcing your gaze back to your book, but your concentration on it has long since shattered. it's impossible to concentrate on anything other than him, perched on your fire escape right outside your window—JASON TODD.

he thinks he’s so subtle, as if you'll never notice when he parks himself on your fire escape like some sort of gargoyle. you smile slightly at the thought, heart pounding a little faster than it should. a condition that makes itself apparent far too much when your mind drifts to him.

he's silently taken on a sort of sworn protector role, separate from his nightly redhood rendezvous. you count yourself lucky to have his presence around your domicile so often. you truly never got over the culture shock that was gotham, but jason helps. even if he decides to go to great lengths to try and hide it.

outside, in the frigid and everpresent putrid gotham air, jason todd sits in complete rumination. he has goosebumps marring his arms beneath his leather jacket, but he pays them no mind. no, he's far too busy listing all the reasons he should just leave, why sitting outside under the guise of guard is utterly stupid, but still, he sits.

he runs a gloved hand through his hair, tugging slightly. he feels pathetic. how can he meet death, the criminally insane, survive things that would kill most—and somehow, he's shocked still with nerves at the very idea of knocking on your window.

in his head he has it all pictured, if it went perfectly. you'd come to the window, a confused look on your face until you spot him. he'd pull some stupid line, something he heard dick use once, and it'd make you laugh. he loves hearing that, more than anything. then he'd crawl in—spend the rest of his night with you, doing anything. and in his head, that's perfect.

but the underbelly of that dream keeps him rooted to your fire escape. to him, there's no way you could ever share his sentiments. you refer to him as a friend and no matter how much he wishes for something else, he can't change reality. can't force himself to make something more out of what you give him.

between the blood on his hands and the rage he can never seem to fully rid himself of, he's come to the aimless conclusion that you deserve someone better. someone more delicate, someone who doesn’t live with one foot in the grave. but every time you laugh or shoot him an easy smile, it gets easier to admit that he’s too far gone.

you deign the separation foolish, but still, you give yourself one more attempt at reading before you put your book to the side. really—you just wish he’d just say something. you’ve thought about saying something yourself, more times than you care to admit, but the timing never feels right. besides, there’s a part of you that wonders if jason even realizes you’ve been waiting out for him.

every time you joke or tease, you can see some struggle behind his eyes. as if he wants to let go and laugh with you, but something—himself—holds him back. your very own sisyphus—his very own boulder to carry up a labyrinthine mountain.

maybe it’s his past and the walls he’s built around himself, but you’re over him expecting you to be afraid of him. you wonder how much more evident you need to be. if anything, you wish he could see himself the way you do—intense, yes, but also loyal and good, even if he doesn’t believe it.

he proves it every night when he stands watch outside your shitty apartment.

with a sigh, you stand up from the couch, moving toward the window. he’s always so close, and yet there’s a distance he keeps in place—you’ve had enough of that.

you slide the window open, leaning out just enough to catch him mid-step as he’s about to leave—flee moreso. “going somewhere?”

he turns on his heels, red helmet in his hands, "figured you'd be asleep."

you hum, eyes narrowing, "already? it's six pm on a saturday."

“just didn’t want to bother you.” he admits, voice low, almost timid. he doesn’t meet your eyes, and it’s frustrating how hard he tries to hide, even from you.

“you’re not bothering me, jason.” you say softly, leaning on the window frame. “you never do.”

jason looks at you then, something uncertain flickering in his gaze. his lips dart out to quell his chapped lips—you hold his stare, hoping he can see what you’re trying to tell him, wordlessly.

that you want him here, that you’ve been wanting him all along.

“i can stop by for a few.” he finally says, adding a shrug to the end of his sentence.

you smile, opening the window fully as invitation. jason crawls in, a rather innocuous task but given his stature, always surprises you.

“i have pizza and brownies. saturday special.” you tell him, a persuasion. you want him to eat.

“sounds good.” he’s in the middle of slipping out of his redhood garb, clad in a skintight athletic tee and his cargos—mask sitting on your coffee table. “i’m gonna change in the bathroom, i’ll be right back.”

before his fingers can grab his duffle you start, “why don’t you shower here? i know you don’t have any of your usual stuff but—”

he cuts you off, “i couldn’t. i’m already eating your food…and using your fire escape as a landing spot.”

“jason, seriously. shower here. i’ll heat up the food and put on some tv. it’s a saturday.” you’re not one to beg, but this is treading the line.

his shoulders sag, but there’s a small smile on his face, “thanks, sweetheart. you’re too nice to me.”

his tone is sarcastic, self-deprecating, and that annoys you slightly. you want him to know that he’s welcome here, wanted. needed.

“i like it when you’re here, you know.” you feel like sparking a match, timid flames sparkling. “i miss you when you’re gone and everything.”

he quirks a brow, "what are you tryin' tell me?"

you feel silly at his question, the air around you seemingly buzzing. jason peers down at you with a raised brow, as if he's genuinely confused by the sentiment. as if he's baffled by the notion he could be someone to miss.

your breath hitches as you debate your next move. you're walking a thin line between saying too much and not enough. you could play it safe, keep your cards close to your chest—or you could be honest. near painfully so.

when you find your voice, it comes out soft, "i'm trying to say that i like it better when you come inside instead of sitting on my fire escape. i don't want to be a landing spot for you, i want... more."

he clears his throat, shifting on his feet, "you don't want that." he seems to take a step back, not physically, but mentally. his face goes still, chest breathing even, mind anywhere but the present.

you groan, annoyance evident, "i do though. you have to see that in some way by now." you step towards him, "sometimes i think you feel the same way."

jason’s gaze flickers toward the floor, and for a moment you wonder if you’ve crossed the line, if he’ll pull away entirely. but then he looks up, eyes darker, severely sincere. “you have no idea what you’re asking for.” he cautions, but his voice is lower, almost a whisper.

you smile softly, finally letting your hand touch his arm, feeling the solid warmth beneath. “maybe i do. maybe i’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

“don’t say that unless you mean it,” he murmurs, his voice rough.

“i mean it.” you reply, sincere in your admission. “i’m not afraid of you, jason. i’m afraid of what happens if you keep shutting me out.”

he grumbles at that, a half-willed attempt to argue against your point. you stay quiet, urging him to continue where you left off. you watch his face contort through a realm of emotions—confusion, fear, and then, thinly masked and wistful poignancy.

“i’m not shutting you out. if anything, i’m protecting you.” he finally decides, arms crossing over his chest, eyes scanning the wall behind you. nervous.

you shake your head, fingers reaching for his twisted expression, finding home on his pink-tinted cheeks. “i don’t need you protecting me from you. i need you to want me as bad as i want you.”

your words are bold, maybe overconfident, but you mean them to the fullest extent. you’re so beyond exhausted of attempting to disregard or conceal your feelings. even if jason’s not, you think he deserves to know.

jason todd looks you over. his eyes raking you up and down like you’re some high valued product—and he’s unsure wether to take the bid or let it pass by. in the time you’ve known him, even in the thralls of his vigilante persona, he’s studied things. eyes pointedly and silently assessing his situation, no matter how far removed he is from his upbringing—his “father” lingers in his antics.

finally, he chuckles, low and more timid than usual, “you don’t know how badly i want you, sweetheart. but…” he stops himself, and you’re grateful because you would have done it yourself if he had continued on with some rebuttal. “fuck. you’re all i want.”

it comes out like a beg, pleading that rarely works it’s way onto his features. you smile, and pull him closer. his arms uncross, opting to gingerly hold your shoulders. still timid, unsure.

“you should know how much you mean to me. you do such a good job of showing me…keeping watch and never letting me eat alone. it’s sweet, you’re sweet. i want you to know it.” you keep his gaze when you speak, hopefully drilling each sentiment permanently into his consciousness.

he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, “i believe you. swear. i just… this is new. i never thought…” he falters off, equal parts unsure and dumbstruck. “i like you a lot. i didn’t know you felt the same, sweetheart.”

you grin, inching your face closer to his, “well i do. deal with it.” your tone is teasing, playful. pulling him back into the safety of reassurance—what you want him to anticipate from you.

it seems to put jason back in his element, “oh? you have demands? usually that’s my thing.”

you laugh, “could always be our thing. the demanding couple—sounds inspired, don’t you think?”

“something like that…” his smile is soft, “but for now, i think i’m fine with just being yours.” he says it so earnestly, no thought to it. just the truth, and it feels damn good. it envelops you just the same as his arms, wraps you up in utter victory. love hard fought—and it feels so sweet.

[partoffantasy]

FOURTH WING MASTERLIST

angst = ❤️‍🩹 | fluff = 💕 | smut = 💥 | none = 😇

Liam Mairi

❤️‍🩹 Nightmares | reader wakes in the night to find Liam trapped in the nightmare that is his past, haunted by the execution of his parents.

❤️‍🩹💕 Fool's Heart Part 1 ❤️‍🩹 | reader has always brushed off Liam’s flirting, knowing he never stays with one girl for long—but when she finally admits to herself that she wants more, she finds him with someone else. Heartbroken, she avoids him until he confronts her. Part 2 ❤️‍🩹💕 | Liam, overwhelmed with guilt for using other girls to distract himself from his feelings for reader, desperately seeks her out after she walks away from him in class to make everything right.

💥 Massage | after days of grueling extra training under Xaden’s command, Liam is sore and aching all over. When he complains about his back pain, reader takes matters into her own hands.

💕 Love Letters | while Liam is away on a mission, he leaves behind a series of handwritten notes for reader. As she finds them hidden in her daily routine, they become her anchor, a reminder that no distance can truly separate them.

💕 Dancing in the Rain | caught in a downpour, reader drags Liam into the rain, fulfilling a childhood dream of dancing with someone she loves.

💥 Playing Dirty | when their latest round of flirtation turns into something more, reader finds herself on the losing end for the first time. Because Liam isn’t just playing anymore. And when he finally makes his move, she realizes—maybe she never stood a chance to begin with.

❤️‍🩹 Between Heartbeats | reader has always had Liam by her side, but it takes almost losing him for her to realize what he truly means to her. As she fights to keep him alive, she’s forced to face her own feelings—before time runs out for both of them.

Garrick Tavis

💥 A Bet Well Lost | What started as a playful bet between Garrick and Y/N quickly turns into an intense game of desire, neither willing to break first—until the tension becomes unbearable.

❤️‍🩹 Broken | Garrick finds himself frantic when reader is taken for the brutal Rider Survival Course (RSC), and after four agonizing days, he finally sees her again—bruised, battered, and barely conscious.

😇💥 Tension and Takedowns Part 1 😇 | when her friends suggest she find someone to release her tension, reader finds herself watching Garrick spar, and her friends waste no time teasing her about it. But when she’s forced to face Garrick in the ring, the heat between them intensifies. Part 2 💥 | Y/N, unable to sleep, trains in the gym late at night, trying to push thoughts of Garrick from her mind. Frustrated and overheated, she decides to use the men’s showers for their stronger water pressure, thinking no one will be there. However, Garrick walks in, and the tension between them becomes unbearable.

Aaric Graycastle / Cam Tauri

💥 No Strings Attached | Y/N and Aaric share a complicated, no-strings-attached arrangement that mostly works—until it doesn't.

💕 Drunk on Trouble | Aaric finds himself unwillingly roped into reader’s drunken antics—especially when she decides he’s the perfect person to cling to for the night.

💕 Hold Me Closer | Aaric casually pulls Y/N away from Sloane, masking his need for affection behind indifference. But as he holds her close, she knows the truth—his father never taught him warmth, and now he craves it more than he’ll ever admit.

💕 Accidental Sleepover Part 1 💕 | After an exhausting late-night study session, Y/N accidentally falls asleep on Aaric, only to wake up tangled in his arms, much to his smug amusement. Part 2 💕 | reader tries to pretend nothing happened after that night in the archives, but Aaric is determined to keep reminding her of their intimate "study session," pushing her buttons every chance he gets.

😇 Echoes of the Inevitable | during tense negotiations on the Isles, reader witnesses a side of Aaric she never expected—commanding, brilliant, and dangerously compelling.

❤️‍🩹 When the Dawn Fades | Aaric’s signet has always warned him of the inevitable, but when the time comes, saying goodbye to the love of his life proves to be the hardest part.

Bodhi Durran

❤️‍🩹 When Words Hurt | after a heated argument shatters their year-long relationship, Y/N isolates herself in guilt and confusion, while Bodhi struggles with the depth of the pain she caused.

😇 Self Control | reader relentlessly tests Bodhi’s self-control, teasing him with subtle touches and close encounters, determined to make him break.

Dain Aetos

❤️‍🩹 A Chance Too Late | Dain Aetos spent years convincing himself that pushing Y/N away was the right thing to do—until he saw her moving on with someone else and realized too late that he was losing the only person who had ever truly mattered.

[thesilverdiary]

Hold The Line.

Warnings? Explicit content, smut, and perhaps mild power dynamics. Toto Wolff x Reader. One shot. 

Words: 2.339.

You met a few years ago, in those days following Nico Rosberg’s retirement announcement that reverberated through every corner of the paddock.

You were there, in the middle of the chaos, representing a driver who, on paper, seemed like the perfect fit for the seat.

And then, he came along. No soft words, no easy smiles. Just brief glances and calculated phrases.

The first impression? Distant.

Like two strangers meeting in the middle of a storm, instinctively knowing they needed to keep their distance. You didn’t have time to try and please him, and he clearly didn’t care to disguise whatever it was about you that bothered him. It left a mark, not as an insult, but as a question hanging in the air.

An unanswered point.

In the end, the contract went to Bottas — something that didn’t surprise you. There was more than just merit involved in that choice. It was impossible to ignore that Torger was always close, never too far from the process. He knew exactly what he was doing, even if he never said so directly.

The real surprise, however, came afterward. When the frenzy around the negotiations finally settled, it was only then you realized what had truly been left from that dispute. The bad first impression was just a facade, hiding something deeper, something he, no matter how hard he tried, could never fully conceal.

They signed Bottas, but in the end, you walked away with something that was never part of the plan: Torger. A prize that didn’t come through contracts or negotiations, but one that, somehow, was the only result that truly mattered.

Years later, you were already sharing your routines as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You loved your job with the same intensity that he loved his, so even though you could afford to stop, that would never make you happy. It would probably drive you crazy.

And now, with the birth of your daughter, the balance between professional and personal life had become even more important. Life had changed, of course, but between the commitments and sleepless nights, there was something undeniably beautiful about the way you both adapted — together.

But that also meant that, often, you would be separated by time zones. Like now. You’re at home, getting ready for work after dropping off your baby girl at school, while he’s on the other side of the world, in Singapore.

Seven hours apart.

Seven hours that sometimes felt like an abyss, but which you had learned to bridge with quick messages and untimely calls.

As you fixed your hair and chose your outfit, something in the silence made you pause. Facing the mirror, still just in your lingerie, you looked at yourself and thought: why not?

A picture. Something simple, just to remind him of what’s waiting for him when he gets back.

The click was quick, and soon the image was on your phone screen. But before sending it, you paused. You thought about how he always worried about security issues, regulations, privacy. He’d probably complain, as he always did when something seemed out of his control — though there was always a hint of amusement in his complaints.

Toto loved new technologies, especially when they involved big investments and promising startups. But when it came to using them in everyday life? Well, that wasn’t exactly his strong suit. And with that in mind, you almost gave up.

Almost.

But deep down, you knew the reason. It was the longing, simple and inevitable.

So suddenly, you decided: the worst that could happen was him complaining — and complaining, in his case, always came with a smile at the corner of his lips.

With a quick tap, the photo was sent.

You threw your phone in your bag and got back to getting ready. The morning flew by in the blink of an eye, full of commitments that kept your mind off it. When you finally had a moment to check your phone, all you found were a few quick messages about the trivialities of that pre-qualifying Friday.

Okay, you thought. Maybe he was too busy to reply or send an audio. It wasn’t unusual.

The day went on. When you got home, you picked up your little one from school and spent the evening between homework and a simple meal, while she chattered happily about her day. The daily routine with your daughter was a balm, something that grounded you, even in the busiest of weeks. But as the night went on, Toto’s lack of response began to weigh on you.

When she finally fell asleep, you checked your phone again.

Still nothing.

Just brief, trivial messages.

That’s when an uncomfortable feeling settled in. I’m screwed.

Because Toto, in silence, was always more dangerous. When he didn’t say anything, it was worse than any sermon. He was the kind who, with a single look or the subtle arch of an eyebrow, made it clear where the problem lay.

You took a hot shower, letting the water wash away the weight of the day. With the bedroom lights dimmed softly, you grabbed a book to read, trying to calm your mind before bed. The quiet of the house was almost comforting, and soon fatigue began to win. You settled under the covers, and slowly sleep enveloped you.

Until the sudden sound of the phone ringing woke you.

When the screen came into focus, you saw him — Toto, his face slightly shadowed by the soft light of the hotel room. He looked tired, but there was something in his eyes, something warm and constant that always made you feel closer to him, even with the miles that separated you.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just looked at each other, absorbing each other’s presence. His image filled your screen, and seeing him, even after so many weeks, made your chest tighten with the familiar longing that had followed you since he left.

His hair was slightly tousled after a long day, but his eyes — those intense and deep eyes — were fixed on you.

“Hi, sweetie,” you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Hi, schatz,” he replied, the endearment slipping out with affection in his voice. “Sorry I didn’t talk to you earlier. The day was... complicated.”

You chuckled lightly, already familiar with the craziness of race weekends. “I figured. Qualifying’s coming up, right? How are things going over there?”

He sighed, his eyes tired but lightly shining. “Everything’s under control, I think. But I miss home, miss you two.”

The warmth in your chest only grew with his words. “Don’t worry about the little one. She’s doing great. Today she drew something and said it was for you. Of course, I could barely tell what it was, but it was adorable.”

He laughed softly, with that tenderness you’d always loved. “And you said you’d keep it for me, right?”

“Of course, it’s already on the fridge, along with her other artistic scribbles,” you replied with a smile.

Toto’s eyes lingered on you through the screen, and then, almost casually, his voice dropped lower, softer. “That photo you sent me earlier…”

Your heart raced, the tension between you shifting, growing sharper, though his tone remained calm, teasing what you both knew was coming. “Oh?” you tried to play it off, but you already felt the change in the air.

He smiled faintly, that smile that made your whole body react. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he murmured, his eyes darkening slightly as they stayed fixed on yours. “The way… you looked in that photo, it felt like you were teasing me.”

You bit your lip, still trying to keep it light, but your body was already responding to his voice, to the way he looked at you. “Teasing? Me?”

He leaned closer to the camera, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you forget how to breathe for a second. His voice came out low, wrapped in a lazy devotion, but full of need. “Schatz... the way that lingerie hugged you... and that look of yours... It was like you were calling me, asking me to touch you.”

“And if I was?” you teased, barely recognizing your own voice, low and dragged by the desire already pulsing through every part of you.

He let out a low laugh, almost hoarse, and the sound reverberated through you, causing an instant shiver. “Ah, you know how that drives me crazy,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly, the mischievous smile playing on his lips. “You knew exactly what that would do to me. I spent the whole day thinking about you, about how that looked on your skin...” He paused, biting his lip lightly before continuing, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. “That was for me, wasn’t it?”

Your body was already warm under his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the smile that threatened to break through, but you couldn’t hide it completely. “And if it was?” you responded, your voice coming out lower than expected, your eyes challenging his.

He watched you with palpable hunger, his smile growing slowly, his eyes gleaming with pure mischief. “If it was…” he began, but let the sentence hang, leaving you craving more. “You know what I’d do, don’t you? If I were there right now... I’d have taken everything off you, slowly, feeling every bit. Because I want you to feel everything... like I would.”

Your body reacted immediately, the heat growing almost unbearable. Your fingers slowly climbed up to your neck, touching the skin, and a shiver ran through your body like an electric current.

He smiled, satisfied. “Ah, schatz... keep going. Touch your neck for me, slowly... like I would.”

You obeyed without thinking, your fingers sliding over the warm skin, each movement intensifying the desire already consuming you. Your heart raced, and you could almost feel his hands, as if he were there, guiding you.

“That's it... slowly,” he said, his voice hoarse, full of contained pleasure. “Now down... very slowly. Touch your chest...”

You did as he asked, your fingers brushing the sensitive skin until they reached your chest, and a soft sigh escaped your lips. The sensation was almost as if he were there, present. He saw the effect he had on you, and it only made him smile more.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice in a low, satisfied tone, but still he kept control. “Now... lower. Very... slowly.”

The temperature in your body rose, the desire burning inside. Your fingers moved down, caressing the skin until they finally reached the most sensitive spot. You let out a soft moan, and your eyes closed for a second, losing yourself in the sensation.

“Don’t close your eyes, schatz,” he commanded, his voice firm, but wrapped in dangerous tenderness. “I want you to look at me... I need to see every second of this.”

Your body trembled as you opened your eyes, the two of you connecting through the screen, and the desire between you only grew. The tension was palpable, each second prolonging the sweet agony. “Now... one finger. Very slowly.”

You did as he asked, your fingers gently brushing over your slit, and your whole body responded, a deeper moan escaping your lips. He watched closely, his eyes gleaming, but still maintaining control.

“That’s it... slowly,” he continued, his voice almost a whisper, but filled with a force that pulled you deeper into the desire. “You know how I would do it, don’t you? I’d touch you like this... slowly... until you couldn’t take it anymore.”

You felt your body vibrate, your heart racing, your nerves on edge. “Toto… please…” you moaned, unable to hold back anymore.

His smile widened, predatory, but with a sweetness that made everything even more torturous. “Ah, schatz, you know I love it when you beg.” He paused, his eyes fixed on yours, and you could almost feel his tongue sliding over the words. “But not yet. I want you like this... a little longer.”

Pleasure mixed with frustration, and you felt like your body was about to explode, but he controlled every inch of your desire.

“Two fingers now,” he ordered, his voice low, filled with authority, but still sweet. “Slowly.”

You followed, your fingers moving gently, but the growing pleasure was almost unbearable. He kept you on the edge, always there, but never letting you reach where you wanted.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, his tone teasing. “I know you want more... but I also know you love it when I leave you like this. Trapped in this desire.” He smiled, full of power. “Now... stop.”

Shock ran through your body, and you trembled, the frustration and desire mixing in an almost painful way. “Toto... no...” you tried to protest, but your voice failed.

He chuckled softly, that low laugh that made your skin tingle. “I said stop,” he repeated, his tone firm, but with a softness that was almost cruel. “You’re going to wait for me... you’re not going to touch yourself. You’ll stay like this... thinking of me. And I know you’ll obey, because you have this thing for me, don’t you?”

Your body still trembled, your breathing erratic, but all you could do was nod, desperate. He smiled, satisfied, with that quiet confidence that kept you hooked on him.

“Goodnight, schatz,” he said, his voice low, but firm, with that smile that made your heart race. “I love you.” And then, he turned off the screen, leaving you alone, still on the edge, the desire burning with no relief in sight.

You let the phone fall beside you on the bed.

Turning your face into the pillow, you hit the bed with your fist, frustrated, but a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, remembering exactly who you were dealing with.

Damn, fuck.

Now there was no doubt. You were completely screwed.

Inspired by: I was listening to Hold The Line by Toto (😌) on loop and thought: Why not?

[shizuturnspages]

What if Diluc and Kaeya shared a darling? (both characters separate)

How would they react if that darling favored them over the other sibling? Would they notice or be unaware? Would they still feel jelly over the other one? Etc. (^v^)

"You're Mine, Not His"

Synopsis: Sharing a darling was never an option. As tensions rise between Mondstadt’s estranged brothers, Diluc moves in silence—protecting you from Kaeya’s deceptive grasp—while Kaeya weaves a web of sweet words and lingering touches to make you his alone. But no matter who you choose, one truth remains: neither will ever let you go. Pairing: Yan! Diluc x Reader, Yan! Kaeya x Reader

🔥 Diluc: The Protective Flame

Would He Notice? Yes. Diluc is incredibly perceptive, especially when it comes to you. If you favor him over Kaeya, he’d pick up on the small things—how you seek him out first, how your voice softens when you say his name, how you always seem to linger in his presence just a little longer. It would soothe him, reinforcing the idea that keeping you close is right.

His Reaction to Being Chosen Over Kaeya: A mix of relief and possessive satisfaction. Kaeya has always been unpredictable, someone he wants to trust but never fully can. So if you prefer him over his brother? It only solidifies his belief that you belong with him, that you see the truth.

Would He Get Jealous? Not outwardly, but deep down, yes. Even if you favor him, the idea of you spending any time with Kaeya unnerves him. He wouldn’t voice it directly, but his grip might tighten just slightly when you mention Kaeya’s name, his tone turning clipped whenever you bring up time spent with his brother. He’ll always see Kaeya as a threat—because Kaeya is too charming, too manipulative. If you ever waver, even for a moment, Diluc will be there to remind you why he is the only one you need.

What If You Preferred Kaeya Instead? Oh, that would break him. He wouldn’t show it outright, but something inside him would shatter. He wouldn’t lash out—Diluc doesn’t believe in recklessness—but he’d become even more protective, more possessive, more determined to make you see. He’d be colder toward Kaeya than usual, making it very clear that his patience is running thin. And if he starts noticing Kaeya getting too close? Well… accidents happen.

❄️ Kaeya: The Manipulative Frost

Would He Notice? Oh, absolutely. Kaeya is hyper-aware of emotions and relationships, always watching, always analyzing. If you favored him over Diluc, he’d drink it up. Every lingering glance, every stutter in your words when he teases you—it would be delicious.

His Reaction to Being Chosen Over Diluc: Pure, smug satisfaction. His dear brother always acts like he knows best, always tries to control things in the name of “protection.” But you? You chose Kaeya. That means something. It means you see through Diluc’s cold distance and recognize who truly understands you. He’d use it against Diluc every chance he gets, letting subtle, biting remarks slip. “Oh, don’t be jealous, Diluc. It’s not my fault they prefer me.”

Would He Get Jealous? Oh, Kaeya doesn’t do jealousy—at least, not in the traditional sense. He doesn’t get mad. Instead, he gets even. If you ever so much as entertain the idea of favouring Diluc, Kaeya will remind you why he’s the better choice. Subtly, of course. He’ll pull you into private moments, whisper words in your ear that make your heart race, fill your mind with little seeds of doubt about his brother.

What If You Preferred Diluc Instead? That… stings. More than he’d ever admit. But Kaeya doesn’t lose. If you think you prefer Diluc, then clearly, you don’t understand him yet. And that’s okay. He has all the time in the world to fix that. He’ll be patient, calculated. Slowly inserting himself into your life, subtly discrediting Diluc, ensuring that you second-guess everything you thought you knew. And when you finally turn to him instead? Oh, how sweet that victory will be.

[earthlybeam]

I am continuing my request here, as I had to split it into separate posts to avoid making it too lengthy.

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Below here are Glrofindel, haldir and lindir versions. At the bottom of this post, I’ll leave link to of the first one featuring Thranduil, Elrond, Gil-galad.

☀️𝓖𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓵

Yandere/Dark Elf Glorfindel x Female Fairy Reader Headcanons

𖤓 Glorfindel as a Dark Elf/Yandere with a Female Fairy Reader: Obsession with Protection In his darker form, Glorfindel’s affection for you turns into a possessive obsession. His protective nature intensifies into a need to shield you from all harm, even if that means keeping you isolated. He sees you as something so precious and delicate that no one else is allowed to even look at you for too long. No one else can share your time or your thoughts—only him.

𖤓 Overbearing Care as Glorfindel’s typical kindness morphs into overbearing care, where he controls every aspect of your life for what he believes is your safety. He insists on walking you to every corner of Rivendell and keeps a constant watch on you, even when you’re with others. He will convince himself it’s for your own good—after all, how could anyone understand the fragility of a fairy as you do?

𖤓 The beautiful flowers, delicate trinkets, and soft silks that Glorfindel gives you are laced with dark intentions. They are never just gifts—he insists that each item is a symbol of his love, and they must never leave your possession. The flowers he picks for you are the only ones that can truly make you feel alive, in his mind. Anything outside of his influence is dangerous.

𖤓 He doesn’t let you explore Rivendell without his presence. Every time you express a desire for some personal time or to go somewhere, he insists on coming with you. If you try to go off alone, he will appear at your side before you even realize it, speaking softly about how dangerous the world can be. He’s only trying to protect you, he says, his voice sweet yet heavy with authority.

𖤓 In his twisted sense of love, Glorfindel will isolate you from others. He believes that the only people who should be in your life are those who serve his desires—himself. If he finds any other male Elf or creature showing interest in you, he doesn’t just move them aside. He subtly, yet forcefully, ensures they are far removed from your life, using his authority and influence in Rivendell to keep them away.

𖤓 Glorfindel’s gaze follows you at all times. He watches you, silently, from a distance, hidden in the shadows, making sure you’re safe. If he senses that anyone else is getting too close, he’ll be there in an instant, stepping between you and them with a sudden, sharp smile that hides the storm of his feelings. If you ever question him about his presence, he brushes it off with a charming laugh, though his eyes linger far too long on you.

𖤓 He’ll be gentle and charismatic when he wants to win you over, but there’s always a darker intent behind his words. If he senses you pulling away or doubting him, he becomes more intense—his smile turns to a quiet, dangerous grin, and his words shift from lighthearted to possessive. He’ll whisper in your ear how you belong to him, reminding you that he’s the only one who truly understands you, the only one who can keep you safe.

𖤓 Twisting His Kindness into a Dark Need His famous empathy and kindness take on a dark edge. He’ll say things like, “I can’t bear to see you hurt, my love,” as he locks you in his arms. His touch is soft, but there’s an undeniable pressure behind it, as if you’re the only thing that matters in his world. Any affection from you feeds his obsession, and he will always find ways to remind you that his devotion is unmatched. He’ll reassure you that no one else can care for you like he does.

𖤓 Jealousy and Rage as Glorfindel, despite his normally calm and composed demeanor, becomes possessive to the point of rage if another tries to get too close to you. In his mind, it’s not just a matter of affection—it’s a matter of rightful ownership. His jealousy doesn’t burn like fire, but instead simmers quietly, becoming more dangerous the longer he hides it. He’ll occasionally drop subtle, dark hints about what would happen to those who dare to challenge him.

𖤓 Glorfindel’s softer romantic gestures now feel more suffocating than sweet. The romantic picnics by the lake or the gentle touches become manipulative acts of control. He might hold your hand too tightly, trace his fingers over your skin in a way that’s meant to reassure you of his control. The soft kisses he once gave you now seem more desperate, as if he’s trying to claim a part of you that he believes he’s losing.

𖤓 Glorfindel sees the freedom and the ethereal nature of a fairy like you as something wild that must be tamed. He believes that, with enough of his presence, you will come to understand that the world outside of his protection is dangerous. His soft words turn into commands, gently shaping you to fit the mold of the world he’s creating for you—a world where only he exists.

𖤓 The Dream of Forever As Behind his smiles and affectionate gestures lies an unyielding need for eternal commitment. Glorfindel speaks often of forever, his gaze softening as he imagines a life with you in it, always. He tells you how he’s waited for someone like you for centuries and how no force in Middle-earth could ever separate you. His version of love is not one of mutual respect, but one of ownership, believing that your souls are forever entwined.

𖤓 In his darkest moments, Glorfindel might share his fears and desires with you. He tells you how lonely he has been, how hard it is to protect everyone and yet feel the emptiness in his heart. He’ll hold you in his arms during these moments, letting you be the one thing that fills the void he’s carried for so long. His feelings are raw, almost pitiful, but the weight of his affection will always overshadow them. In his mind, you are the answer to his emptiness—and no one else could ever fill that role.

𖤓 Should you ever attempt to leave or distance yourself from him, Glorfindel’s sweet nature would vanish completely. His grip would tighten, his calm voice turning cold, filled with quiet but undeniable authority. He might say something like, “You think you can escape me? You belong to me, now and forever,” before pulling you closer, his embrace suffocating yet filled with the twisted notion of love he holds for you.

𖤓 In his yandere state, Glorfindel's physical affection would be overwhelming. He would want to touch you constantly-his arms would linger around you, his hands always seeking you out, tracing your wings, your face, and your form as though ensuring that you are truly there, and that you belong to him alone. He often strokes the delicate wings of a fairy, marveling at their beauty, but in a possessive way. He might run his fingers gently along the edge of your wings, almost reverently, as if they were his greatest treasure. His touch would linger too long, just to remind you that he owns every part of you, even the most delicate.

𖤓 Glorfindel's physical affection would not always be gentle. He would want to hold you tightly, to trap you in his arms where no one else could reach you. His embraces would be possessive, almost suffocating, with him pressing his cheek against yours and inhaling the sweet scent of your hair or your wings. His kisses would be tender, but there would be an intensity behind them. His lips would linger longer than you expect, and he would take his time exploring your face, memorizing every detail. He might whisper your name between kisses, as though he cannot believe you're real.

𖤓 Your wings would be a source of great fascination-and obsession-for Glorfindel. He views them as an extension of your soul, something so unique and beautiful that it is impossible for anyone but him to touch or admire. His touch on your wings would be worshipful, but in a way that leaves you feeling trapped. He would often stroke your wings, brushing his fingers against the delicate veins, marveling at their sheer beauty. But, at times, it would feel as though he's claiming ownership of them-almost as if he wants them to be as much a part of him as they are a part of you.

𖤓 He would take extra care of your wings, making sure they are always pristine. If they become damaged, even by accident, he would react as though it is a personal betrayal, vowing to make the world around you safer and more controlled. The idea that anyone could harm your wings or your beauty would send him into a fit of rage, and he would do everything in his power to ensure it never happens again. If you were to try and hide your wings, Glorfindel would make it his mission to "uncover" them. His desire to see every part of you would overtake any sense of personal space or boundaries. He would lovingly but forcefully pull your wings free from any coverings, wanting to revel in the sight of their magnificence.

𖤓 As a dark elf consumed by his obsession, Glorfindel would not allow you to be out of his sight for long. He would track your movements, always making sure that you are nearby, watching you with burning eyes from a distance. If you're in a crowd, his gaze would be the only one that feels heavy upon you, constantly watching from the shadows, making sure no one else tries to get too close. He would take steps to isolate you from others, believing that the world is too dangerous for someone as delicate and beautiful as you. He would subtly intervene whenever anyone tries to speak to you for too long, stepping in to shield you from the eyes of others. Your movements, your conversations, your interactions-everything would be monitored. If someone dares to speak to you for too long, especially a male, Glorfindel would interrupt, smiling charmingly, but with a razor edge. He might even intervene in the most subtle of ways, just to ensure you are never left alone with someone he deems unworthy.

𖤓 Glorfindel's words would shift from comforting to obsessive, filled with declarations of how you are meant to be his and his alone. In private, he would murmur to you, whispering sweet but dark words, calling you his "beloved," his

"treasure," his "only light." His devotion would border on madness, as though he sees no world without you by his side. He would speak of your future together, painting pictures of a life where you never leave his side. His obsession would bleed into every word, even the softest compliments would carry a sense of ownership. "No one else can touch you like I can," he would say with a calm but dark smile, "You belong to me, now and forever."

𖤓 If you ever tried to disagree, he would calmly remind you of your place, his voice smooth, but unyielding. His obsession would make him deluded, believing that everything he does is for your own good, to protect you from a world that doesn't deserve you. Intense Affection Behind Closed Doors, Glorfindel's affectionate displays would be intense when you are alone, where his calm, composed demeanor would drop.

𖤓 He would gather you in his arms, pulling you close to him. The closeness would almost feel smothering at times, his hand always resting near your wings, stroking them gently but possessively. When the world is out of sight, his affection would feel all-consuming, like the two of you are the only ones in existence. He would kiss you deeply, passionately, each kiss tinged with a sense of urgency-his need to claim you, to make you feel his love in every touch, every kiss. At times, you might even feel as though he is testing you, seeing how far you'll allow him to go, and the moment you hesitate or show discomfort, his expression would darken, and he'd gently remind you that you are his.

𖤓 Glorfindel would need to feel that he has full control over your life, your choices, your movements. His possessiveness would go beyond simple affection, pushing into the realm of control. You would never be able to leave his presence without his permission, not because he would physically stop you, but because he would subtly make you feel that it's not safe for you to be anywhere else. He would insist that he accompany you wherever you go, ensuring that no one can get close to you without his watchful eye. Any attempt to break free, whether physical or emotional, would be met with a soft but firm reminder of his love for you. Glorfindel would not let you slip away from him. He would keep you in his world, where you belong, forever.

🏹𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓻

Yandere/Dark Elf Haldir x Female Fairy Reader Headcanons

➳ Haldir’s love for you, dear fairy, is not only protective but possessive, a side he keeps well-hidden beneath his disciplined exterior. The moment you step into Lothlórien, he becomes aware of your every move, your every breath. Despite his usual cold demeanor toward strangers, his fixation on you brings out a darker, obsessive edge that no one, not even his brothers, can see coming.

➳ He would be outwardly respectful and polite, maintaining his formal, stoic presence at all times. However, in the quiet moments when it’s just the two of you, Haldir’s gaze would follow you intently, as if he’s studying every nuance of your movements, learning your every need before you even voice it. Your comfort is paramount to him, but not for the reasons you may think—it’s because you are his, and he must ensure that nothing, no one, can harm or distract you from him.

➳ Haldir’s care for your safety extends far beyond what is reasonable. The moment you express an interest in leaving Lothlórien, or heaven forbid, interacting with others outside of him, he becomes intensely overprotective. Going to Rivendell? “You will need ten guards at least,” he declares with an unwavering calm, already making preparations. Going to Mirkwood? The mere thought sends him into a protective frenzy. “Spiders? You will stay here where it is safe. I will not allow such dangers to even approach you.”

➳ His stoic exterior masks the storm brewing inside. Whenever you seem to grow closer to someone else, even in the most innocent ways, his possessiveness flares. His eyes narrow, and without you even noticing, he subtly maneuvers the situation to ensure no one can ever come too close to you. He is not above using his influence to subtly remove anyone who shows too much interest in you, especially if they pose a threat to his control over you.

➳ If someone dares touch you or speak to you in a way he does not approve of, you will see his dark side—he is not above being harsh. Haldir’s discipline will slip, and his actions will show just how far he’s willing to go to preserve his claim on you. He would not hesitate to distance you from anyone who could steal your attention away. The quiet whisper of his anger would send chills down your spine, and you’d know—this is no longer the Haldir you once knew.

➳ In moments of intimacy, he is both tender and fiercely possessive. When he holds you close, it is not only to comfort you, but to remind you, silently, that you are his and no one else’s. He craves this intimacy, but it’s on his terms. His arms will tighten around you as if to never let you go, especially when the two of you are alone in your private moments. He will watch you sleep, his fingers brushing against your skin, a possessive gleam in his eye.

➳ Haldir enjoys the act of you depending on him. He believes it is his duty and privilege to take care of you, but it quickly becomes more than that. You’re not just someone to be protected—you’re his responsibility, his obsession. He watches over you so closely that you might begin to feel trapped, unable to make a move without his watchful eyes.

➳ His words of affection take on a darker tone. In private, he might whisper, “You are mine, and no one else can have you.” His voice is low, almost possessive, as if saying it aloud is some form of claiming you further. If you ever try to protest or assert any independence, his gaze hardens, and a cold silence will follow, the kind that makes your heart race. He does not take kindly to resistance, and you know it.

➳ Despite his protective nature, Haldir is not afraid to use his influence to isolate you. You might find yourself living in a world where only he exists, surrounded by those who serve him or who could be a potential threat to you. He creates a bubble around you, carefully crafted to protect you but also to control every aspect of your life. If you even think about venturing beyond it, his warnings would be sharp, his patience tested.

➳ But beneath it all, Haldir genuinely believes his actions are out of love. His obsession, his possessiveness, all stem from the same place—a deep, unwavering affection for you. And while you might struggle with his boundaries and actions, he will assure you, “Everything I do is for you. You are the only one who matters to me, and I will keep you safe, always.”

➳ His affection for you is consuming, and no matter how much you try to assert your independence, he always finds a way to draw you back in. His love for you is not just a part of him—it is the core of his existence. He would not hesitate to remind you of that.

➳ Haldir would always be watching you, his ever-keen eyes scanning the surroundings to make sure no one, or nothing, threatens your safety. He might have an unsettling habit of lingering in the shadows or near your dwelling, making sure you’re never out of his sight. His protective instincts would be so strong that he feels any danger—even the possibility of someone else noticing you—must be eliminated.

➳ Haldir’s affection would be highly physical, but in a controlling, possessive way. He would often touch you without warning, his hand resting possessively on your shoulder or arm, guiding you wherever he deems appropriate. His affection would manifest in small, seemingly caring gestures that conceal his obsession���rubbing your hand in his or holding your waist, anchoring you to him, ensuring no one else could take your attention.

➳ Your wings, delicate and ethereal, would be a focal point of Haldir’s obsession. He would be very protective of them, often running his fingers over them, admiring their beauty but also claiming them as a part of you that only he is allowed to touch. He might gently stroke the feathers, perhaps too roughly at times, as if testing how much they can withstand. He’d insist on keeping them hidden, perhaps binding them tightly with his cloak or gently tucking them beneath his arm to protect them from any potential harm or attention.

➳ The longer you spend together, the more he isolates you from the world. While he might use gentle words, “For your safety,” or “The world is dangerous, my love,” it becomes clear that this is not about safety but about his need to control your every move. He would often take you to secluded parts of Lothlórien, away from others, so no one can approach you. Your wings, which he finds so beautiful and precious, would be a constant reminder of the bond between you two. He might even insist that they remain hidden, fearing someone might try to steal your attention or, worse, harm you.

➳ Haldir’s desire would not be purely physical but emotionally consuming as well. He would become obsessed with every part of you, seeking to understand your preferences, fears, and dreams. When you sleep, he would lie next to you, his body curled around yours, ensuring no one could take you from him. In these moments, he would be the most vulnerable, holding you so tightly that you might feel the force of his obsession—but he would believe it’s for your protection.

➳ If anyone shows even the slightest interest in you, Haldir would quickly intervene, his anger masked under a layer of calm control. He might quietly tell someone, “She is mine,” or subtly, but effectively, eliminate any threat to his claim over you. He wouldn’t hesitate to use his position as a Marchwarden to banish any intruders or discourage anyone who dared to approach you.

➳ His words would become darker, more possessive as time goes on. He might whisper in your ear, “I will keep you safe, no matter the cost,” or “No one can love you like I do.” His voice would grow more intense and fervent, especially when no one else is around. He might tell you that your wings are “too precious to be seen by others” or “too vulnerable to be left unattended.” He believes that your beauty belongs only to him, and his love for you is exclusive.

➳ Haldir’s affection would manifest in carefully orchestrated romantic moments. Perhaps he would give you flowers from the borders of Lothlórien—flowers that only he knows how to pick. They would be beautiful, but he’d choose them for their symbolism: they are from him, they represent his love, and no one else can ever offer them to you. He might insist on private moments where he can embrace you, touching your wings in ways that might feel intimate, but also controlling. His care would be so intense that it could feel stifling, especially when he insists on keeping you near him at all times.

➳ While Haldir would present himself as devoted, his manipulation would become more evident over time. He might claim that the outside world is “dangerous” or that “only he can truly understand you.” He would speak of protecting you from the harsh realities of Middle-earth, using these words as a shield for his own desire to control you. The lines between love and control would blur, and you might begin to question if there is any true freedom for you while he is around.

➳ His yandere tendencies would also extend to your interactions with others. If you show any kindness toward another elf or stranger, Haldir would immediately grow cold, withdrawing from you until you reassure him that your loyalty belongs solely to him. He might become uncharacteristically harsh or distant, only to return once he has “confirmed” that you belong to him, offering you soft, possessive affection in the form of hugs, kisses, or sweet whispers.

➳ When you are alone, Haldir would soften—his hardened exterior would crack just slightly, revealing a longing for you that he hides from others. But, there would always be a dark undertone to his smiles and gestures. When he gazes at you, it’s not just love that glimmers in his eyes—it’s the intense fixation he has on you, as if he is quietly claiming you for himself, piece by piece.

➳ The intensity of his protective nature would not only keep others away from you but also make him increasingly possessive of your time and attention. If you were to stray too far from him—whether to speak to someone else, go for a walk, or simply enjoy the peace of Lothlórien—he would be quick to reassert his presence, ensuring you understand that no one can keep you safer than he can. His love for you is his life’s work, and it is something he would fight to the death to preserve.

🎶𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓻

Yandere/Dark Elf lindir x Female Fairy Reader Headcanons

♫ In a darker version of Lindir, the seemingly shy and reserved elf transforms into someone with a deep, obsessive love for you, the female fairy. While he may retain his usual politeness and gentleness, beneath that surface lies a simmering intensity that is both protective and possessive. His feelings, once hidden behind the guise of restraint, become all-consuming, and he will go to great lengths to ensure that no one, not even the slightest threat, stands in the way of his devotion to you.

♫ Lindir, in his darker form, becomes deeply protective of you, but in an almost suffocating way. He sees you as a delicate, precious creature—fragile and ethereal—and he cannot bear the thought of anything or anyone harming you. He will insist on being by your side constantly, subtly manipulating situations to ensure you are never alone with others. If a male elf approaches you, whether for casual conversation or something more, Lindir’s presence will quickly be felt. He won’t make his disapproval known outright, but his eyes will always be watching, calculating, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice.

♫ While Lindir appears humble and gentle, his mind is sharp, and he is always calculating. He is an expert at manipulating situations in his favor, using his position as Elrond’s right hand to subtly influence the actions of others. When it comes to you, he will use his knowledge of your interests, desires, and weaknesses to weave a web of control around you. He will know the books you enjoy, the songs that make your heart flutter, and the things that make you smile. He’ll gently guide you toward his desires, making you think the decisions are yours while, in reality, he’s the one shaping your choices.

♫ Lindir’s affection for you borders on possessiveness. He believes that you belong to him and him alone. His words will often be laced with this belief, though he speaks them softly, almost as if trying to convince both himself and you. His compliments become more intense, but with an edge of obsession: “You are my light, my muse. The world outside this place is cruel and unforgiving. Let me protect you from it.” He may even refer to you as “my dearest,” “my precious,” or “my heart,” subtly reinforcing the idea that you are his to care for, love, and, in some twisted way, control.

♫ Though Lindir may not be overtly aggressive in his methods, he watches you constantly. His presence becomes increasingly felt in your day-to-day life, though it’s often subtle—like a shadow in the corner of your vision, a soft rustle of footsteps behind you. When you venture outside or spend time with others, Lindir follows from a distance, just close enough to ensure no harm comes to you but far enough to keep his actions hidden. He believes the outside world is a dangerous place for someone like you, so he isolates you, making you dependent on him for comfort, for knowledge, for companionship.

♫ Lindir, in his darker form, will shower you with soft, intimate gestures of affection—those that seem gentle but hold a deep possessiveness. He will offer to sing you songs at odd times, his voice smooth and sweet, yet each note seems to bind you closer to him. He will leave small, personal gifts for you—handwritten notes, a flower from the garden, a special song he wrote just for you. These gifts are not simply tokens of affection; they are symbols of ownership, reminders that you are his.

♫ Lindir has the power to subtly manipulate those around you. If he senses anyone is becoming too close to you, he will use his position to subtly drive them away, creating distance between you and others. He is an expert at playing on the emotions and weaknesses of others, and he will use this to isolate you, ensuring you become more reliant on him and less likely to seek companionship from anyone else. If someone dares to court your favor, he will not hesitate to “accidentally” make their words fall on deaf ears or cause misunderstandings that push them away.

♫ Despite his obsessive nature, Lindir’s greatest fear is rejection. His love for you is deep, and he fears that if you were to ever leave him, it would break him. He watches you closely, analyzing every word you say, every gesture, every glance, desperate to ensure that you still care for him. If you show any hint of doubt, even unknowingly, it would send him into a spiral of self-doubt and anxiety. He becomes more desperate, clingier, and eager to prove himself to you, often going to great lengths to win your favor.

♫ To Lindir, his love is not something of this world—it is eternal. He views his bond with you as something that transcends time itself. There is no part of Middle-Earth that could separate you from him. He will frequently remind you that you belong together, in this life and beyond. “We are fated, meleth. Nothing can tear us apart.” In his mind, this is not just love—it is destiny, and you have been chosen for him, just as he has been chosen for you.

♫ In private, Lindir’s true darkness reveals itself. He is tender and loving, but the weight of his affection is heavy, almost overwhelming. He will wrap you in his arms, holding you close, kissing you with soft but possessive passion. Every kiss will feel like a reaffirmation of his claim on you. He whispers sweet, desperate things in your ear, urging you to never leave him, to never doubt his devotion. These moments feel comforting, but there’s an undercurrent of desperation in them—a constant reminder that you are his, and no one else’s.

♫ Eventually, Lindir will confess his love to you, but it won’t be a simple admission. It will be something deep, intense, and emotionally charged. He will stammer and blush, perhaps nervously fumbling with words, but his eyes will be filled with sincerity. “I—” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “I love you, meleth. More than I can express. More than you will ever know.” From that moment on, his love becomes something darker, more possessive. He will never let you go, never allow you to leave his sight. You are his, and he will make sure everyone knows it.

♫ In his darkest form, Lindir is a master of control and manipulation, using his quiet demeanor and sharp mind to bend situations to his will. While he remains outwardly kind and humble, inside he is a force of quiet obsession, determined to keep you close, safe, and utterly devoted to him. His love is powerful—but so is his need to own you.

♫ Lindir would often reach out to touch your wings, his fingers brushing over the delicate feathers with an almost reverential gentleness, but there’s a possessiveness in his touch. He traces their shape as if marking them as his, unable to resist the urge to keep you physically close. When others approach you, Lindir’s posture becomes rigid and tense. If anyone dares to get too close, he would subtly pull you closer to him, positioning his body as a shield between you and any perceived threat. He would often run his hands over your wings in a soothing yet controlling manner, admiring their beauty but secretly fantasizing about how they could be clipped or restrained so you could never fly away from him.

♫ Lindir would want to be near you all the time, ensuring that you’re always in his sight. His voice, though usually calm, could take on a dark, almost intoxicating tone when he speaks to you, lulling you into a sense of security, but there’s a hidden intensity behind it. He would sing for you, his melodies taking on an almost hypnotic quality, with the haunting implication that his songs are a way to bind you to him emotionally and mentally, making you feel as if you cannot escape him.

♫ Lindir knows the fragility of a fairy’s wings, and as a yandere, he would sometimes lightly trace the veins of your wings with his fingers, a reminder of your vulnerability. He might even gift you delicate chains or ribbons, and place them on your wings as a symbolic way of “marking” you as his. The chains would glitter, but you’d feel a sense of unease as he whispers about how beautiful your wings are, while hiding darker thoughts about how he’d keep you forever by his side. At times, when you’re asleep or vulnerable, he might gently hold your wings in his arms, almost as if cradling them to prevent you from flying away. There’s an eerie sense of calmness in his expression as he holds them, keeping you close

♫ If you ever tried to leave or distance yourself, Lindir would give you affectionate gifts—perhaps beautiful flowers or trinkets, designed to allure you back. But underneath his gifts is a threat: “If you leave, who will take care of you? Who will protect your precious wings?” His words could be sweet but manipulative, as he subtly encourages you to depend on him more. The more you lean on him for affection, the more possessive he becomes, wanting to be the sole source of comfort and safety in your life.

♫ His love for you isn’t just about the physical—there’s an emotional aspect to it that’s twisted. Lindir might express that he loves you so much that he’s willing to do anything to make sure you never leave him, including hurting anyone who poses a threat to your relationship. He could become incredibly jealous, especially if other beings, even friends, give you attention. Lindir would likely isolate you, ensuring that you’re always near him. His affection for you becomes a source of control, and he’d always want to be the one to make you smile, to make sure you’re always looking at him with admiration, ensuring your loyalty through a mix of charm, fear, and subtle threats. Keeping You Close, Always At the darkest point, Lindir might go so far as to use magic or physical means to ensure you remain close. He may subtly enchant your wings or weave spells to prevent you from flying too far or escaping from his sight. He wants to be the one who determines your freedom, and your wings become the symbol of his dominance.

♫ In moments of extreme possessiveness, he might try to keep you in his arms, preventing you from leaving or spreading your wings. When you’re in his presence, his hands often hover near your wings, never letting you out of his sight, and his gaze is one of possessive longing.

[gothamcitycentral]

Hazbin establishes very strong parallels between Charlie and Vaggie’s relationship and Lucifer and Lilith’s.

Charlie being as to Lucifer, the fantastical dreamer discouraged and rejected by the world around them.

Vaggie being as to Lilith, someone who failed their assigned role and were driven out of ‘paradise’ (Heaven/Eden) by someone they should have been able to trust (Lute/Adam).

In their most vulnerable moments Lucifer and Charlie find them, love blossoming between each pair because they defied the norm, Lucifer and Lilith being rebellious in a world of order and Charlie and Vaggie being kind in a world of cruelty.

Though at the same time, Charlie is to Lilith while Vaggie is to Lucifer.

“This kingdom was something she really cared about. Something I care about.”

Charlie acknowledges she is the last thread of the hope her mother gave to Hell all those thousands of years ago. The responsibility to her home Charlie puts on her shoulders is born from the love Lilith had for it. She is directly following in her mother’s footsteps, truly believing her people deserve better and that they’re worth fighting for.

Then there is their partners, the fallen angels who don’t share their love’s connection to Hell. Lucifer saw sinners as horrible people who wasted the gift he went to Hell for giving them. Vaggie always kept everyone not named Charlie a spear’s distance away, treating them as people she tolerated but never trusted for a moment. Despite what Heaven had done, had done to them, they were still thinking like angels.

(Though, these mentalities would change throughout the first season, Lucifer choosing to support Charlie no matter what and Vaggie accepting the hotel crew as a part of the in-group which she wishes to protect)

Lucifer’s distaste for his people, not fighting alongside Lilith’s rebellion and instead agreeing to the exterminations, seems to be why they eventually split, despite the love they held for each other. In extreme contrast, Vaggie always supporting Charlie is what keeps them together despite bumps in their relationship. Vaggie always chose to believe in and support Charlie and that means the world and more to Charlie, who spent so much of her life unsupported.

The show also juxtaposes Lucifer’s parental love for Charlie with Vaggie’s romantic love for her, most prominently with Vaggie starting the reprise of More Than Anything to express her love as Lucifer did originally.

(They’re also just. Charlie and Lilith being these tall powerful demon women with Vaggie and Lucifer being their short and tiny fallen angel loves)

What becomes interesting is during the finale when Lucifer (very strongly, very tastefully) implies he ate out Adam’s first wife before fucking his second.

This seems to based on sexual interpretations of original sin. However, in Hazbin we are very much lead to believe the Fruit of Knowledge is a literal apple. Given that Lilith is said to have also offered the apple to Eve, I doubt the implication is that Luci had any sort of one night stand with Eve. Rather, I think Lilith, Eve, and him were once, or attempted to be, in a romantic relationship.

(Considering Eve was made to be Adam’s lesser and Lucifer and Lilith shared the gift of free will with her specifically, I do wonder if Eve had fallen in love with the two, but was unable to leave Adam. The Fruit of Knowledge being given to her so she would be able to be free and join their relationship, but ultimately resulted in their separation as Lucifer and Lilith were casted into Hell)

Which certainly has implications about the future of Charlie and Vaggie’s relationship.

I think the show has actually set very compelling parallels between Eve and Emily.

Much as Lucifer shared forbidden knowledge with Eve, it’s Charlie’s actions that revealed the hidden truth of Heaven’s exterminations. There’s the specific ‘free will’ which Eve was gifted, which fits with Charlie’s influence giving Emily the ‘free will’ to defy Sera and act against Heaven.

I’ve also talked before about the possibility Emily was brought into existence to fill Lucifer’s place in Heaven. Considering the protective relationship Sera has with Emily, along with her looks of genuine horror at her acting against Heaven, it brings to mind the idea Sera has been fearful that Emily would fall just as Lucifer did for Emily’s entire existence, and as such raised her to be more likely to never stray from Heaven as Lucifer did. Which could add to why Sera hid Heaven’s genocide from her despite Emily being a high ranking seraphim; she couldn’t risk giving Emily a reason to rebel.

Which would be a very striking analogue between the two. Both living replacements for the fallen, born into someone else’s shadow to take their place, intended to be the more docile and proper version of Lilith and Lucifer, less likely to stray from the roles they were created to fill. Though, of course, we know Eve fell to temptation and maybe-probably-definitely left or tried to leave Adam, and that Emily is walking the edge.

(Emily having ties to both Lucifer and Eve seems relevant with how Charlie and Vaggie each have parallels to Lucifer and Lilith. Perhaps in her fall, we’ll see Emily ‘thrive in Hell’ just as Lilith did, and similarities between Charlie and Vaggie to Eve will pop up the more we learn about her?)

What’s also interesting is that Eve ‘falling into temptation’ (choosing Lucifer and Lilith over her preordained role) is what separated her from them. However, if Emily were to choose supporting Charlie’s dream over her place in Heaven, then her falling would be what brought her to Charlie and Vaggie. Thereby their situation acts as a foil to the previous generation’s.

And Emily supporting Charlie is very relevant. In More Than Anything we get the exchange of:

“I’ll support your dream whatever lies in store.”

“And who could ask for more?”

Because Charlie can’t think of anything more she could ask. Charlie’s idea of love and being loved is so heavily based on support and being supported. It’s a part of the conflict in Hell’s Greatest Dad, that Lucifer is being genuine and Alastor manipulative, but Alastor is the one actually providing Charlie with what she asks of him, which Lucifer never has. Charlie shows her love for Hell by believing in them, that they can improve, they deserve safety, and they have worth. It’s why Vaggie’s love is so important to Charlie, because for a long time, she was the only one believing in her.

And what does Emily do?

“I don’t know-”

“Yeah, let’s give him a chance!”

She supports Charlie! She believes and trusts her and argues on her behalf. She’s the only angel in Heaven to have faith in Charlie’s dream. Having Emily in the position of a fallen angel, falling right into Charlie’s arms, Charlie caring for her and nursing her back to health, with her being someone who very deeply believes in her, would be the same conditions that made Charlie fall in love with Vaggie three years ago.

Then for Vaggie, Emily also has a lot of the textbook traits that she loves Charlie for. The overexcited-ness, the care she has for others, even the way she doesn’t pull rank. And what she hasn’t expressed, that being seeing value in Vaggie where she herself does not, it feels natural that Emily would express that in the way Charlie does upon learning Vaggie’s history. We’ve seen her sense of justice and her horror at Heaven’s actions, so her deeply sympathizing with Vaggie would be entirely expected, and would be a very easy way for Vaggie to catch feelings for Emily.

However, there is this:

Which suggests the direction of a jealous Vaggie. I think that works, at least initially, with Vaggie feeling insecure in her relationship with Charlie after Emily falling and being cared for by Charlie in the way she was all that time ago. Those feelings heavily changing however, at the realization that Emily is crushing on her just as much as she is Charlie and how deeply relatable to her Emily’s circumstances and trauma would be.

Then on Emily’s side, not only would she have very much been thinking and focusing on Charlie prior to her fall, once she does, she lands in a very emotionally volatile situation where Charlie and Vaggie are supporting her so much and caring for her so deeply. It makes sense that this would translate to her developing feelings for the both of them.

(Now, this is a bit less definitive, but with Emily’s design, the long hair and dress that covers every inch of her short of her fingers, and Heaven being a stand in for the imperialist church, I do read the coming-of-age story the show has set up for her to be one of a conservative christian raised girl striking out of the doctrine she grew up in and finding community in the people her home had demonized, or at least an allegory for such. So having her develop romantic feelings for two ‘vile and blasphemous’ women in a very non-monogamous way would be very thematically relevant I think)

I would say this all works great as an analogue to Lucifer, Lilith, and Eve. Eve being in the unfortunate situation of Adam’s wife but finding comfort in Lucifer and Lilith and falling for the both of them as Emily would as a fallen angel being comforted by Charlie and Vaggie. Lucifer seeing Lilith reflected in Eve and caring for and helping her as he did before being parallel to Charlie helping Emily as she did Vaggie. Lilith initially feeling negativity towards the woman made to replace her bond so closely with her new love, only to realize Eve is falling for her just as much as she is for Lucifer and empathizing with Eve’s situation so deeply, just like Vaggie.

Then, there’s Adam and Lute. I already mentioned that they play parallel with forcing Lilith and Vaggie out of their respective paradises. Their dynamics are built on Adam and Lute punishing, and their domination over, Lilith and Vaggie, because they need to know their place: beneath them. (There’s also the interpretation of that Lute had or has romantic feelings for Vaggie, which is certainly relevant) The show is being very clear with Lute being Adam’s successor I feel, with her taking on his position as leader of the exorcists following his death.

Then, her line: “Your brat is threatening the very foundation of Heaven.” Personally, that makes me think of a sediment Adam would feel towards Lucifer. That’s he is the source of every problem, that he stole his wives (ignoring that Lilith left him before even meeting Luci), and that he destroyed paradise, Eden. Now that Vaggie and Lute’s conflict has seemingly come to a close, I think the show will be shifting to a Lute vs Charlie conflict, much as Adam shifted from Lilith to his hatred for Lucifer.

Now, if the show wants to push a Adam-Eve dynamic with Lute and Emily, what I could imagine is Lute protecting onto Emily in a very one sided way, where she thinks Charlie has ‘corrupted’ the seraphim (threatening heaven’s foundation) and she must personally ‘save’ her, which would very much align with how Adam would feel towards Lucifer’s influence on Eve.

Now, we can tell that Lucifer, Lilith, and Eve’s relationship Did Not pan out particularly well. So I think much like how Charlie and Vaggie have succeeded where Lilith and Lucifer failed, Charlie, Vaggie, and Emily is going to be the successful foil to their attempted relationship. Then for Lute, I think it becomes a question of: does she accept the olive branch Adam did not, does she eventually understand that she is doing wrong, does she accept mercy, or does she continue down Adam’s path, digging her own grave as he did; except that unlike Adam, there won’t be anyone to cry for her?

And y’know, the angel and 3 immortal humans versus the demon/half immortal human and 3 angels serves as a nice counter.

[bwat5-blog]

Jinx: The Best Version

**Spoilers For Arcane**

In the vein of my earlier post about Caitlyn and Violet's reunion, I wanted to take a moment to celebrate this moment for Jinx. Because at the end of the day, my belief that this character deserved for us to see more of how this went down, doesn't take away from the absolutely epic impact of what we were given.

Jinx is a complex character to say the least, and while all of the main characters are fighting their own inner battles throughout this story, her pain is uniquely hard to watch. We meet this kind and curious little girl, and watch as her mind is torn apart by the world around her as Powder sinks below the waves, and only Jinx is left.

But it's her journey to find out who Jinx truly is, that makes her such a special character. We see her torn between being the shattered ghost of Powder and Silco's terrorist daughter, until she has been stretched so thin she pleads with her own sister to take her life. She is only able to begin her path toward healing, when a certain slightly feral street urchin enters her life.

Her time with Isha starts her down the road to finding who she really is. As Vi comes to see the good in her, and she is able to separate herself from the monster Silco turned her into, although it is through unimaginable loss and pain, that darkness is finally scoured from her. So in the 11th hour, when someone she believed had given up her comes to save her life, she is ready to listen.

**It had to be Ekko. I love Vi, she is my favorite character, but Jinx had to be saved by someone who wouldn't put their love for her before the truth. She knew Vi was going to be in her corner, no matter what. So in a moment where she sees nothing left in her worth loving, someone like Vi who she knows won't give up on her regardless wasn't the person to get through to her**

Vi and her forces are being overrun by the shimmer hulks (no idea what they are called just my best guess), Caitlyn is stabbed, standing alongside Mel against Ambessa herself, and "chaotic humming in distance" as the show so expertly subtitles it draws their attention.

The Queen of Zaun leads her people to war:

Arriving on her base WHICH WAS APPARENTLY AN AIR BALLOON Jinx arrives in a blast of music and colorful explosions, leading the firelights and her people to war. We see her bright colors, hear her loud music, she even treats us to one of her signature smirks while a glitchy grin ghosts over the screen, but this feels entire different. This is not the keening tension of an unstable mind. For perhaps the first time, it feels like the trappings of "Jinx" are hers to command, not ropes around her neck. Bearing the symbols of those she loves and has lost, she opens fire saving the topsiders who have hated her, and saving her beloved sister. All while Ekko and his warriors descend from on high, and the people of the undercity who refused to fight for Jayce, have rallied behind one of their own.

Finally, we see her not only reunited with VI, but at peace with one another as they are now, even in the midst of this terrible battle. And in what could be her last moment among the living she stands for her beloved sister who had always stood for her, making sure the last person close to her lives.

"There's no good version of me"...

"Everyone who gets close to me dies"...

At the end of her story for this show, the young girl who tortured herself for the deaths of her family carried them with her into battle, leading her people wo once feared her, and saved the life the person who would never give up on her. And it is this version of her, the best version, that I believe sails off into blue, ready to write her new story.

[randomdwellerr]

A/N: I love Hatori guys, he truly doesn’t get enough love. If you hate Hatori though this fic isnt gonna help that. Hatori is pretty bad here. I wanna say he’s ooc cuz he would never do what he did in this fic BUT if he did, he would do it like this. Sorry this fic took longer than expected but it’s long so I hope it’s worth the wait. Love yall

The Good Doctor

Warnings: Power imbalances, dub con, oral sex (Hatori receiving), this is pleasurable for reader but your fear is super prevalent, reader is scared of hospitals, implied memory erasing, implied past non con, unhinged Hatori if u squint.

You always felt uneasy around Doctors.

Doctors mean hospitals; hospitals mean sick people; sick people mean diseases. A truly vicious cycle you didn’t want to be a part of.

But Hatori’s office wasn’t like that, his desk was neat, his room was sterile, and he was always so gentle but firm nonetheless.

Or so you heard. You hadn’t been privy to his services being that he resided in the main part of the estate and you outside, even more so than that his primary patient was the family head Akito, who had a penchant for getting sick. You finally got an opening to visit Hatori after you refused to go to a regular Doctor and fell behind on necessary vaccines.

So on the awaited day of your appointment, you trekked on tatami mats through the main estate to the Hatori’s office. It wasn’t a particularly long walk to his workplace from your home, but your hands were trembling regardless.

This was your first time meeting your new Physician, who wouldn’t be nervous?

The Door to Hatori’s place was now within grabbing distance on your left hand side. Nerves built up like a dam in your chest as you grappled at the door knob. With a surge of adrenaline you swung the door open with so much force it clattered against the frame.

Hatori startled a little from where he sat behind his wooden desk.

“Please knock next time,” he said as he rose from his chair to greet you. His lab coat hung on his seat, as he only wore his usual white button down, tie, and vest combo. His dark hair was a bit tousled from hours spent writing at his work space.

“I’m so sorry,” you bowed sharply before turning and closing the door with just as much force. Your adrenaline fueled confidence had long since abandoned you, making you face the Doctor alone.

Strong hands grabbed your shoulders, “it’s fine.”

Hatori’s warmth seeped into you from behind, as he guided you to a separate room, decorated with a hospital bed, counter with a sink, and a wall of cabinets, that you assumed held stuff such as ointments, medicines, and since Hatori was a doctor, presumably needles—.

Your body tensed up as you thought about it. If there was one thing you hated most about Doctors offices, it was getting a shot.

“Are you okay?” Hatori asked, from your right side as he kneeled down to grab something out of a lower cabinet.

You let out a weak groan in response, whether it was a yes or no was a mystery of which you weren’t even privy to the answer to.

Hatori stood up to his full height again as he moved to hand you something, a hospital gown? You hesitated to take it, but obliged under his watchful eye.

You didn’t intend to stay overnight, or eve long for that matter, so the gown seemed a bit over the top to you.

“Change into this and when you are down please wait for me on the bed,” Hatori passed the dress to you and took his leave, also instructing you to take everything off so the gown fit comfortably.

You quietly watched him leave, and when the door was once again between you and Hatori, you removed your shirt without a thought and carelessly tossed it onto the counter space next to you.

However you paused as your fingers began to fiddle with the button of your jeans, surely he didn’t mean for you to remove your underwear too, right?

Comfort first, I’ll keep those on. You decided as you slid the pants off and threw them next to your shirt.

Now that you were stripped to your bra and panties, the chilliness of the room reminded you to put on the gown and wait for Hatori on the bed.

The gown fit better than you’d anticipated, as you sat down it didn’t strain against you. The fabric was also of good quality, but the Sohma’s were a rich family, so it was no real surprise that they’d have expensive hospital wear.

But what was surprising was how long you had to wait for Hatori to return. There was no clock in the room, so with no sense of time, you attempted to listen for movement outside the door but there was nothing.

No shuffling, thumping, or even talking, just silence. Had Hatori left the area?

Your foot anxiously tapped on the porcelain floors. Your breathing may have stopped to match the room's stillness too, as you took in a greedy gasp of air when the door finally slid open.

Hatori had came back, now sporting his lab jacket and a metallic clip board. He’d even gone with the whole doctor look and had a stethoscope wrapped around his neck.

He took in your disorganized clothes with his eyes narrowed in disdain, before his gaze shifted to you. You stifled a shiver in discomfort as he scrutinized you.

Hatori’s stare traveled up your body, taking note of your bobbing leg, as they continued to unabashedly study you, his eyes took turns looking at papers in his hand before inspecting you again.

“Do you have any clothing left on?” Hatori’s question startled you, not because of how his voice rumbled, or how it was the first thing he had said to you, but because it was an odd question. He could see you didn’t have pants or shirt on, so why was he curious about anything else?

Ever the observant Doctor, Hatori spoke once more, “you’re due for a check up.” He glanced at the clipboard again.

“So I need to examine everything.” You didn’t move, he could examine you with your underlings on, no? Just what kind of Doctor is he?

And more importantly, what had you signed yourself up for?

“Everything?” It was now your turn to cut through the silence. Your voice wasn’t as strong as Hatori’s but you tried anyway.

“Yes, (Y/N), everything.” He still hadn’t elaborated on that but he did add an emphasis on the word everything.

“What’s everything mean?” Hatori’s index finger and thumb came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. That scared you a bit, you hadn’t meant to irritate him, you were only curious.

“You’re due for a pelvic exam.”

Oh.

That’s why you needed to remove your underwear. So this Doctor, who’d you never met before, could investigate your vagina

You definitely weren’t comfortable with this development, not in the slightest, but the room grew colder as Hatori became more and more exasperated with your resistance.

“Could you turn around?” Your words were mumbled together, as your embarrassment became palpable. Hatori released his nostrils and looked at you briefly, before turning away to face the door.

“Of course.”

Hesitating for one more second, you brought your hands to the waistband of your panties before sliding them down your legs. These you folded, and placed neatly next to your feet, near the edge of bed but on the side of the wall, so they couldn’t slip down and onto the floor.

If he intended to examine you down there, you could at least keep your bra on.

“You can turn around now.” You sat back again but crossed your legs at the ankle as Hatori faced you again.

He silently walked over to the end of the bed by your feet before placing his clipboard down, right beside your panties. Hatori paid the red cloth no mind though, as he sat on a rolling stool, and began to ask you questions.

“How long has it been since your last visit to the Doctors office?”

“A decent amount of time,” your breath hitched as Hatori placed his hands just above your feet and untangled them.

“You’ve had a pelvic exam before, I assume.”

“Yes, not recently though,” your legs unconsciously formed a triangle shape with the bed, as Hatori pushed them towards your head. The conversation was light while Hatori gently lowered your gown down your thighs, until it cupped on your lower chest.

It didn’t register that he had even spread your knees open and gave himself access to your cunt, until his breath fanned over your inner thighs.

Your legs instinctively tried to kick out, but Hatori held them in place, and even squeezed them in reassurance.

“Calm down, I’m preparing for your exam.”

Your eyes locked with Hatori’s, “right now?” You weren’t ready for that, not by a longshot. It didn’t seem that he cared though, as his head didn’t move from in front of your vagina.

“Is there a problem, the sooner we finish here, the sooner you get to go on your way.” His words brought little comfort, but it also didn’t seem like he wanted to comfort you anyway. Hatori was just being courteous.

Your intimate area was on display for him, and he couldn’t care less.

He’s doing his job. The thought that this was a normal thing for him, was somehow even worse for you. Still waiting on your approval, Hatori drummed his fingers on your thighs lazily.

“Okay,” you relented once again. You gasped as Hatori sat up and pulled your legs down so that they hung off the bed.

That was new. No Doctor had done that during a pelvic exam, but looking around to distract yourself from Hatori’s intense gaze on your vagina, you were reminded Hatori wasn’t a regular Doctor and that was why you chose him.

But, you were still sure Doctors usually tied your legs to the bed in some capacity.

Your uncomfort must have shown on your face as Hatori’s breath tickled your clit when he leaned back into you and spoke.

“Is this position uncomfortable?” Your face must have also been bright red because you had to suppress a shudder.

“Nope,” you quipped quickly, “please continue.”

Hatori released a deep sigh from his nose that lightly fanned over your clit.

“Do you know your anatomy, (Y/N)?” Hatori asked lowly, his eyes never looking up from between your thighs, the Doctor's focus was so intense that it made you want to snap your legs shut to break his trance.

“Not really,” it was embarrassing to admit that you knew little to nothing about yourself, but who really takes the time to know that? Not you, that’s for sure.

One of his hands brushed down your leg and began to spread your second lips to give him access to your clit, “these folds are called your labia.”

The vibrations of Hatori’s voice caused a deep well to form in your stomach. You hoped that you weren’t growing wet under his examination turned lesson.

You followed along intently to his lecture.

“This beautiful button here is called your clit.” Hatori’s thumb lightly pressed the bud, “it has about 8000 nerve endings compared to a Man’s head of a penis having 4000.”

That’s odd, why was he bringing that up?

After a nod from you, Hatori continued. His thumb left your clit and slid down your slit. His eyes and thumb lifted, in tandem, to show you the wetness he collected, “this is a self produced lubricant. It occurs when a Woman is sexually aroused to allow for painless intercourse.”

Hatori lowered his eyes again before carrying on, “it’s safe to assume you know what intercourse is, correct?”

Tears beaded in your eyes in embarrassment, this man was making you feel an unbelievable mix of uncomfortable and horny, while you barren for him.

He even had the nerve to ask if you knew what sex was!

“Yes,” you dragged the s sound out, as Hatori inserted the tip of his index finger into you.

“This is standard practice, so relax,” Hatori tried to coax you into loosening around him.

After a while of stillness, Hatori slowly pushed the rest of his finger into you. You let out a gasp as he sunk deeper into your cunt.

“How does this feel, does the stretch hurt?”

You ignored his question, in favor of asking your own, “is this okay?”

You felt breathlessly as Hatori’s finger finally entered you all the way.

“Of course, why are you hesitating?” Hatori drew his finger back.

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh,” Hatori paused, still halfway in you, “well then you’re in good hands.”

Hatori withdrew from you all the way and stood up, “anyhow, it seems like you’re enjoying yourself.”

He must have been teasing you about how much your cunt was dripping now, a single finger had almost broken down the floodgates building in your lower stomach, not that it mattered now, that knot was unfolding itself from the lack of stimulation.

“You’re a good student, perhaps we can kick this lesson up a few notches.”

Hatori feverishly began unbuckling his belt and once that was finished he moved to his zipper. He dug into his pants and fished out his semi-hard cock.

Seems like you weren’t the only one who was enjoying your time together.

“This,” Hatori collected his own fluids that accumulated on the tip of his penis before, stepping over to your head and sticking his finger in your face, “this is called pre-ejaculation, also known as precum, it’s also a lubricant for sex. However it’s second job is to help semen, or cum, survive.”

Hatori’s finger moved to prod at your lips, “try mine.”

Your lips unconsciously shut as your teeth clenched.

“Come now”, Hatori stepped closer to you, bringing his erection to your face. It was so close you were able to see even more precum building up, and dripping down his head.

Hatori’s eyes noticeably darkened when you looked at him again.

“Don’t be stubborn, (Y/N),” his voice also had a chiller edge to it. Hatori chided you like you were an insolent child, that made you want to deny him again, of course out of spite but more so out of real fear.

This was not normal, that you were sure of.

Not wanting to offend the Doctor anymore, you reluctantly brought your tongue out to lick his finger clean.

“Open wider,” he demanded as his left hand lifted your head slightly off the mattress when it buried itself in your hair.

Opening wider was exactly what you did too. You unclenched your jaw and began to bring your tongue back to his finger but he yanked on the roots of your hair, making you cry out.

“I think you can take something else now,” you had barely processed his words before he brought his penis to rest on the walls of your slack mouth, “have you ever given fellatio before?”

Why ask if you were going to do it anyway?

Hatori was patient while he waited for you to collect yourself before speaking, “I guess not?”

Hatori hesitated no further as his hips came forward, when he came close enough that you were sure you could count the number of pubes he had, you gagged hard.

Your eyes clenched shut in pain and shock.

“Ah, that’s your limit I see,” Hatori didn’t seem worried for you, as he pressed a bit more before withdrawing to the tip, “it’s still the same.”

He mumbled the last sentence but it traveled down to your ears, what did he mean?

You meant to ask him but his snapped towards your face, you also tried to recoil but his hand kept you firmly in place as he fucked your mouth.

You remained still for him, wanting the experience to be over soon, his pubes occasionally scratching your nose, his balls hitting your chin, and the gagging was too much. The sensations had completely undone the knot in your stomach.

Just when you felt Hatori throb in your mouth, he pulled out for the last time. He threw a hand through his hair as he panted.

“I hope you don’t think I’ve abandoned your pleasure,” he whispered, as he walked to stand in between your legs. His index finger and thumb moved to pinch your clit.

The pain was short lived as pleasure washed over you in a tidal wave.

“I wonder if this will make you remember, you’re much more willing this time.” Hatori continued to mumble to himself.

“I hate erasing our passion but I fear it was necessary, you weren’t too compliant before, now your body responds readily for me.”

Hatori lined himself up with your entrance as you began to plead with him.

“No, no, not here, not now,” tears built up in your eyes as Hatori began to slide inside you. You weren’t as wet as before so the pleasure didn’t make the pain or stretching, that felt much more like tearing, forgettable.

As you realized Hatori had no intention of stopping you said one final plea, “be gentle, please.”

He had never stopped talking to himself but you could tell his final sentence was directed towards you.

“I always am.”

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 17, Unanswered - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, anxiety.

Word Count: 570

Previously On...: You met with the head of Galvin & Associate's, your PR firm, to make sure a statement went out refuting any relationship between you and Steve Rogers. Also, why the fuck isn't Bucky calling you back?!

A/N: SUPRISE THIRD DROP!

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You managed to keep down some saltine crackers and a bowl of chicken broth Sam had prepared for you for lunch, though it was difficult not to gag, what with all the sass he was giving you about the headlines. You were feeling a little less tired, now that you had some nourishment in your system, but you still found yourself lying in bed, listlessly checking your phone over and over again for a new message or call from Bucky that never came.

Lisa Galvin had been true to her word, at least; you began receiving Google Alerts linking to your statement. Of course, they weren’t getting as much traffic as the original articles had, but you were relieved to know that the truth of the matter was finally out there, and you could breathe easier for it.

You sent a link to your statement to Bucky, hoping that would entice him to answer you, but were only met with continued silence. You were becoming increasingly agitated by his lack of communication. Yes, you were worried about his safety, but as much as you were loath to admit it, Carthage was with him, and two super soldiers working together was a challenge even the more elite terrorist organizations would have difficulty taking on.

But then again, he was with Carthage. What if he had seen the headlines and believed them? What if he— no. You weren’t going to let yourself go down that path. He had been so dedicated over the last two months, working to prove he was worthy of your trust, cutting her out completely. He wouldn’t – couldn’t– betray you like that. He knew it would destroy you, destroy any chance the two of you had to make your relationship work. You had to trust him. That was the entire point of your separation. Rebuilding trust, and you had to believe in him.

You had to.

With a sigh, you put your phone back on its charger, battery already well depleted from all the web browsing and non-Bucky texting you’d done so far today. Maybe you would take a nap. While you were feeling a little better, you didn’t want to risk a repeat of last night, where you couldn’t even stand on your own without assistance, so you figured a little extra rest would do you some good. Besides, maybe you’d wake up and Bucky would have contacted you, and you could finally stop fretting over the entire thing.

Yes, a nap sounded excellent right now.

You woke up, a few hours later with a start. You’d had a nightmare. You couldn’t remember exactly what it was about, just that it had been about Bucky, and it left your heart aching. Rubbing your eyes and trying to shake the feeling of pain from your heart, you checked your phone again. Still nothing, but it was quickly approaching the designated time for him to call you– his “proof of life” communication that had become a standard, every day tradition when one of you was away. Surely, he’d contact you soon. So, you waited.

And waited. And waited. Then you waited some more.

Two and a half hours after the predetermined call time, you’d had enough. You could feel your stomach practically eating itself alive with anxiety, on top of the nausea you were already experiencing, and there was only one person who had the answers you were looking for.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[todorokis-girl]

Hello Again - Hanta Sero x f!reader

After years of distance following their UA days, Hanta Sero finds himself face-to-face with Y/N in the middle of a dangerous villain fight. Memories of their close bond and stolen moments resurface as they work together seamlessly, and he realizes he’s never truly let go of her. When the dust settles, a quiet invitation for coffee brings a spark of hope—maybe they can find their way back to each other.

The noise was deafening, a rush of flames and crumbling debris echoing through the street. Hanta Sero didn’t hesitate when he saw her—Y/N, standing at the center of the chaos, fighting off a villain twice her size, her expression determined but weary. It had been years since UA, and they’d grown apart in the shuffle of hero work and time, but none of that mattered now. All he knew was that he couldn’t stand there and watch her face danger alone.

Without thinking, he swung into action, extending his tape to pull her back just as the villain lunged toward her with a snarl. She stumbled, eyes widening as she realized who had saved her. “Hanta?”

“Guess I just can’t stay away,” he said, a small, shaky smile on his lips as he helped her regain her footing.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, memories flashing between them, unspoken but deeply felt. He could still see them at UA, sneaking off to study together in the dorm lounge, late-night talks and laughter shared under dim lights. He remembered the way she’d leaned her head on his shoulder once, whispering, “I think you’re my favorite person in the whole school.” And how his heart had felt like it might explode when she’d kissed him for the first time, her lips soft and her hands tangled in his hair.

They’d been inseparable back then, two kids too scared to admit how much they meant to each other. Somewhere along the way, though, things had shifted. The demands of hero work, the distance created by their separate agencies—it had all driven them apart, each too proud or too uncertain to reach out.

But now, seeing her in danger, none of that seemed important.

“Hanta!” Y/N snapped, pulling him back to the present as the villain charged toward them again.

Without a word, they fell into the rhythm they’d once known so well, moving in sync as they dodged, attacked, and covered each other. Sero’s tape wrapped around the villain’s legs, tripping him up, while Y/N landed a powerful kick to his side, sending him stumbling backward.

Finally, they managed to bring the villain down, both breathing heavily as they watched the authorities take him away. Y/N turned to him, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face as she caught her breath.

“You saved me back there,” she murmured, her voice soft, but the gratitude in her eyes was unmistakable.

He chuckled, shrugging like it was nothing, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun.”

She laughed—a sound he hadn’t heard in so long—and his chest tightened at how much he’d missed it. He wanted to ask her why they’d drifted apart, to ask if she’d missed him the way he’d missed her, but he held back, afraid of the answer.

Instead, she took a small step closer, her voice quiet but clear. “I thought about you a lot, you know… after UA. About how things used to be.”

His gaze softened, the memories of late-night talks and quiet moments surfacing all at once. “Yeah… me too.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of their past hanging between them, a bittersweet reminder of what they’d lost but maybe could find again. Slowly, he reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. She didn’t pull away, instead squeezing his hand as a soft smile tugged at her lips.

“Do you… maybe want to go for coffee sometime?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching hers with a vulnerability he hadn’t shown in years.

She nodded, her smile growing as she looked up at him. “I’d like that.”

For the first time in a long while, Hanta Sero felt hope blossoming in his chest, a quiet assurance that maybe they weren’t as far apart as he’d thought.

[229zmi]

DO YOU THINK WE’RE LOVERS IN EVERY UNIVERSE?

Kuroo Tetsurō/Reader | 2.5k words, lots of description and run-on sentences and like 3 lines of dialogue, brief mention of kuroo’s parents separating

It’s simple. At only seven years old, Kuroo decides that love is always going to be a hair out of his reach.

Perhaps it’s foolish of him to make such a finite conclusion at a young age and to already determine so early on in his life that yes, love is a finish line he is never going to make it to — that love may be something he can only observe in his surroundings but never truly hold as his own. But this has been his observation for years, so he can’t help himself from thinking of it in this forever-unattainable sort of way, that is: if love is something like a narrow world — one where he can see where it starts and ends, what it encompasses, and what it lacks all at once — then Kuroo Tetsurō is stuck idling along the edge, perpetually on the outside looking in.

And you know, most people don’t remember the first few years of their life. Yet somehow, he remembers the first time he looked in and caught a glimpse of the parents who lifted their kids up, twirled them around, held their hands, kissed the crown of their heads, asked them about their day. He saw the sunlight pool onto their smiling faces, heard their laughter bleed into the afternoon, and felt the breeze of their light-hearted chatter brush over his head, so close that he swore he could almost touch it himself.

Then, he blinked and time inched forward, slowly unveiling a version of love that was much quieter than the one he witnessed in the vicinity of an elementary school, so subtle yet ardent — so incredibly mundane yet human all the same.

On the train he took to his grandparents’ place, he admired the shy looks exchanged among two young lovers sitting across from him. He yearned for the experience shared between an elderly couple a few empty seats away, shoulders connected and timeworn fingers intertwined as if the two were one; listened in carefully on a phone call from the woman beside him, who seemed to be speaking to her mother with the amount of delicate I miss yous and promises of visiting home soon; and found a warm feeling bubbling his chest at the sight of a person waving at their friend through the window until their fingers turned red and numb from the wind and the train began to depart from the station.

(By then, the friend had already turned back around, yet Kuroo still watched the other person grow smaller in the distance, wiping away at their cheeks and sort of curling into themselves as if the loneliness was suddenly too cold to bear.)

Even in the love-laced tunes that spilled out through the overhead speakers at the grocery store, love was there. Certainly, it was there and alive and flooding his mind with convoluted melodies and sentimental lyrics. It lived, too, in the old-timey romance show his grandfather loved to watch on full volume at seven-thirty every evening and in the memory box his grandmother said she had kept under her bed for decades.

It was a matter as indisputable as the moon orbiting the earth: love was… everywhere. Suspended in the frosty air after a long day at school, dancing through the crowd on the train to Ibaraki Station, and lingering above him as he wandered through the cereal aisle. Even if it wasn’t quite his — wasn’t really for him — love was all around him, ever-prevalent in the nooks of his life and taking the form of bits and pieces that seemed to make up a larger mosaic.

So, when such intricacies were rare in his childhood for him to keep, Tetsurō, who loved love for what it was the moment he could echo the word in his mind, made sure to hold on to each memory as tight as his hands would allow, lodging every fragment in between the crevices of his palms as if it was the ink of an invisible tattoo embedded permanently into his skin.

The two lovers on the train lived in the uppermost line across his right palm. The elderly couple resided in the one below it, among other connections he witnessed along the way. Romantic ballads he overheard at stores and on the radio took up most of his left hand; and in the finer lines, between rough callouses and bruises too tender to touch, there were his grandfather’s show and his grandmother’s old shoebox of memories.

It was so simple before. Kuroo used to like it that way.

But then summertime hits, and suddenly he’s eight-turning-nine with sunkissed cheeks and scuffed knees, when terse conversations throughout the day and wrathful voices at night aren’t supposed to be thing in his life anymore, apparently, because home isn’t with his mother and father and sister in a small apartment in the prefecture of Nagano anymore.

Instead, home is in Nerima City now, and it stands right before his eyes in the form of an old, visibly timeworn door. With the sky as barren as a pond completely frozen over and his mind muddled with a wide range of emotions, there’s an ache in his chest as the door opens, revealing two elderly faces who, as unfamiliar as they appear to Tetsurō, welcome him and his dad with wide open arms.

(Later, he learns that they are his grandparents, his father’s parents. Even later, he discovers that neither of them like watching television very much and that the space beneath their bed is less a place to keep tangible items of nostalgia than it is a haven for cobwebs and dust.)

Still, he doesn’t let go of the past. There’s a craving in his heart that is as fiery as the sun against his back on a hot summer’s day, and back at his old home and in the old routine of things, he had found a way to live with it through filling the empty spaces in his palms. Now, it’s telling him to keep going — to keep on collecting the mosaic tiles that other people had left behind on the ground and add new to the old, fuel to the flame.

So, he does.

Kuroo blinks again. It’s still summer, just nearing the end of it, except he’s fifteen-going-on-sixteen this time around, no longer navigating the daunting hallways of Nekoma Grade School but instead partway through his first year of high school.

(Where did time go?)

Perhaps it is because he’s bigger than he was at five and seven and almost-nine, evident in the way his hands have already grown too large for last year’s pair of winter gloves, but he sees more of the world than he has ever before — sees more, holds more, loves more with a newfound ease that most likely would’ve put younger him into shock.

With that being said, some of the new people he meets — they don’t stay forever, despite his tendency to hold on and never let go.

Actually, none of them do because forever is, well… way beyond his lifetime. However, the point is, people come and go. There are those whom he was never meant to see again after the first time, colliding once and then heading in opposite directions like two perpendicular lines. Others pull out of his orbit after a couple of months, a few years, or however long it takes for them to drift apart because their interests had grown less aligned with time or because something else had happened and there was no saving the relationship from it.

(He thinks of it like this: a scene of ambivalence, in which he is not a bystander on the train to Ibaraki. Rather, he is the one standing out at Nagano Station, waving at familiar faces through the window until his wrists hurt and the smoke begins to billow out above him, twisting and turning like the rotten feeling in his gut. He’s the one watching them leave, but no one will be there to see him if he cries.)

Nonetheless, there are still the people who stay a while longer, weaving themselves back into his life time and time again. It’s never going to be forever — he knows that, and maybe it would hurt less if he didn’t — but they’re with them in the present and that’s what matters.

And, maybe, if he squints closely enough, he’ll see that an unshakeable mosaic of his own has started to form, of the memories he’s created over the past several years instead of strangers’ fleeting moments he picked up from the threshold.

Somewhere along the line, the strangers from the train had moved to smaller crevices in favour of the family who lived next-door to the Kuroos’ house. Further in time, all the lyrics he used to keep locked away in the many lines of his left palm for so many years had begun to fade away as inside jokes, pick-up lines, sincere compliments, and the like occupied the spaces.

Then, in the creases along his fingers: the way a volleyball feels against his hand right before a victory, how the air smells the morning right after a rainstorm, the resolution of a book he managed to read in one sitting, the late night conversations that took place on the phone between him and Kenma whenever he couldn’t sleep, and finally the playful banter he exchanged with his lab partner during class, who didn’t seem to mind whenever he said something corny about the two of you having chemistry together, even if — from the deepest depths of his heart, where lay the secrets he was too afraid to admit — he wasn’t really meaning it as a joke.

It’s still summer, by the way, although it’s been seven years since he moved— just nearing the end of it with shorter days on the horizon and auburn leaves turning brittle beneath his feet. And all of a sudden, he finds that his world seems to have grown a little wider and love feels heavier in his hands these days.

So yes, perhaps it was foolish of him to make such a finite conclusion at seven years old, to think of love as something so unattainable and out of reach. Because twenty years later, at twenty-seven, Kuroo Tetsurō has it right in the centre of his palms, no longer the outsider looking in on a scene he thought he wasn’t meant to be a part of.

It must be sometime after midnight when his name falls upon his ears in the form of a tentative whisper, sweet like the peppermint melting on his tongue as his fingers hover over the keyboard, frozen at the sound of your voice. Coming from his lab partner turned friend, then lover— it’s a stark contrast to the way you used to say his name back in high school, during the painfully long two years of pining before the day he finally insisted, with sweaty palms and his heart pounding in his chest, that you use his given name instead. Tetsurō, instead of Kuroo, or Rooster Head and Annoying Bastard, which you used interchangeably with his surname until a teacher overheard and assigned you cleaning duty in the restrooms for a week.

(Of course, that didn’t stop you from calling him those epithets still, even today. If he provokes you just enough and presses all the right buttons, he’s sure to hear the same string of offensive names from you again, although there’ll certainly be less venom behind it now compared to when you were teenagers, thinking the other was the most irritating person in the whole wide world.

…Where did time go? he wonders again.)

You should’ve fallen asleep long ago. Not only had he thought the sound of his typing would’ve at least lulled you to sleep, there isn’t anything particularly riveting about watching someone type up a report on their laptop. Nevertheless, you insisted on staying up anyway, fighting through the drowsiness that threatened to wrap around your neck and yank you into dreamland.

His eyes sweep over the planes of your face, down the slant of your nose, and along the curvature of your Cupid’s bow before flitting back up to meet your gaze at last as he shuts his laptop, stands up, and pads over to the side of the bed in one quick stride, where you currently lay with one side of your face smushed against the pillow, blinking up at him tiredly.

Tenderly, as if you’re a fragile illusion that could shatter beneath the slightest touch, a hand — his hand — settles against the side of your face, pulling the fat of your cheek between his forefinger and thumb in a playful manner. The action rouses you awake somewhat, and you suddenly remember the reason why you called his name.

“Tetsu,” you say again, barely louder than the clock that ticks on the wall. “Do you think we’re lovers in every universe?”

Despite your lethargy, a sly grin strews across your face like you’re trying to play it off as some inane joke, a frivolous thing rotting away in your brain until you can find the answer. And Tetsurō can only chuckle, shaking his head at your question, yet he indulges anyway, letting the matter soak in his mind for a moment longer as he pretends to think.

Truth is, the answer is simple. He doesn’t have to spend much time mulling over it because even if love didn’t come easy to him in the first decade of his life, loving you comes easy to him enough; he’d do it over and over again in every universe and in every lifetime if it were possible to make up for the lost time he’d spent in this one before he crossed paths with you.

So, Tetsurō answers the only way he knows how— teasingly. Leaning down to land a kiss upon your forehead, he murmurs against your skin, “God, I hope not.”

(You know he’s lying. He’s never been too good at it, with his telltale signs appearing in the form of reddened ears and him avoiding eye contact as much as possible. However, you know it especially this time from the softness in his voice. It’s a tone that you know he’s only ever reserved for you.)

He feels your eyebrows furrow together, and your response comes quick: “Asshole. I hate you.”

(He knows you’re lying, too, when you turn your head to press your lips against the palm of his hand, against the creases that now hold thousands of snapshots of you and many more to come.

The way that you laugh and the way that you smile. How you twist the shiny ring around your left ring finger whenever you’re deep in thought. The times you keep insisting you don’t snore in your sleep despite the multiple years’ worth of evidence on his phone that speaks otherwise.

And most importantly, he thinks, the way that you love him.)

notes: in my kuroo phase tbh…. something abt him Man 😍…. idk if any of this makes sense but the first part of this has been marinating. in my drafts since july so i wanted 2 finish this as quickly as possible 〠 Kisses n hugs 2 whoever reads this

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| v. five | to weave a basket

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: light drinking. vague mentions of death. descriptions of fire. hobie kind tweaks out in this one. yelling. glass breaking. reader gets scared.

↳ ❝ but there were ways to bring home back in the darkest of nights ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

The crackle of the fire popped in Hobie’s ears. The heat radiating off of it kept his shivering at bay as he sat under the open night sky, twinkling with stars winking at him with secrets shared between them. His mother sat at his side, weaving a basket she had been working on for a few days. The fire crackled again, and popped with embers that just narrowly missed Hobie’s toes. He wiggled them into the sand.

He yawned and curled up into his mother, slowly climbing into her lap from under her arm. She welcomed him in as any mother would. She wrapped her arms around him and let him rest his head on her bosom as she continued weaving her basket before the fire for light. Her hum rattled her chest. Hobie thought he could hear the tune through her ribcage.

Hobie could hear the ocean just beyond the fire. Her white waves crashing into sharp rocks and rounding out their rough edges. He wanted to be crashed into, rounded out, made soft. But he was young, he had no sharp edges yet, no hardened heart. He was just a boy with his mother.

That basket would never be completed. He’d never hear her hum her tune again. They’d never sit next to their fire and enjoy each other's company.

If only Hobie could realize that this was the last time he’d ever be truly happy.

Childhood ripped from trembling hands that so desperately reached out for it. His mother's scent still lingered in his nose, her warmth on his skin, her song in his ears. He rocked back and forth slowly and breathed deeply in hopes that maybe –just maybe– he could fall back into slumber and experience his last moments of real joy.

Hobie trembled violently in his bed. His eyes glossed over, tears swelling in his eyes that he quickly blinked away for his own sake. Crying would do him no good now. What's done is done.

But he could mourn. He could mourn what could have been. The life he could have had, taking care of his mother who would be old by now. Instead he was out at sea with no home and with a responsibility to his crew. He was a captain of one of the most fearsome crews in the region but with great power comes no future.

After the sorrow came the numbness. A drink would do him some good. It was just late enough into the night that no one would be awake to bother him. Whoever was in the bird’s-nest would probably be asleep too, lazy bastards. He loved them all dearly.

With quivering hands, Hobie went around his cabin, pulling on the clothes he had left strewn about the night before in his haste to get some rest. How naive to think that this would be the night where that would be a possibility for him. All sleep was restless and a waste of time. Always haunted and traumatized by what he had seen in his short, little life.

With his clothes on and a lantern in hand, Hobie opened the door to his cabin and just narrowly missed tripping over the curled up body on the floor. He always forgot about you and you quirk of finding your way to his door in the middle of the night like a dutiful pet. Slightly annoyed by it, Hobie nudged you with his foot to get up. “Come on, pearl. Ya can' sleep ‘ere, ya know tha’.”

You had a habit of sleeping just outside his door. Ever since the crew found out about you (Gwen couldn't keep her mouth shut) he’s made you sleep in the storage room. But you always managed to find your way back outside his door every single night. You couldn't be separated from him. No matter how much distance he attempted to put between the two of you, you were in a constant fight to close the gap.

You hummed and purred and rolled over like a cat, your eyes slowly fluttering open. They glittered under the dim light of the lantern like gold coins. You sat up slowly, looking up with him with your puppy-like gaze, sweet and soft with a tenderness Hobie hasn't seen in many, many years.

You stood before him with all your precious beauty. The flickering flame of the lantern made you glow so subtly. How ethereal. “Go back t’slseep where ya belong.” Hobie muttered before walking down the small corridor to make his way to the galley. You stood watching him, a pout on your lips and your droopy eyes softening. You were signing but with his back to you, you might as well have been signing to the wall. It probably would have been a better listener.

You were quick to follow after him, walking so closely he could hear the rattle of your pearls against the softness of your body and the long, seaweed clothing dragging against the wooden floors. The flick of your finger signing. He ignored it all and walked into the galley before finally turning back to you. “Wha’cha still followin’ me fo’?”

You had nothing to say to him now. You stood there with no good reason as to why you were still following him. Maybe because you liked him. Maybe because you thought he was so pretty how could you possibly put him out of your sight? Maybe because he saved you. Maybe because when you look at him something in your chest aches a little. You’ve been alone all of your life and now you've attached yourself to the very first person to show even the smallest bit of kindness to you.

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth and looked up at him with those sweet eyes of yours. Hobie quickly shifted his gaze from yours. “Sit down then. ‘m ‘avin’ a drink.” He placed the lantern down on the table in front of where you decided to sit.

You watched him get some ale and grab a few oranges for you before walking over and sitting down at the table across from you. He placed the oranges in front of you and watched your eyes come alight with joy while he sipped on his stale ale.

You peeled one orange and split it in half to share with him. “Nah, pearl. Ion wan’ any.” He gave it back to you and happily, you began to eat his half, sweet juice squirting out over your lips and fingers. You smile with a quiet joy, giggling to yourself.

Hobie watched you from behind his wooden mug. The small lantern flame made your look soft, your giggling made him smile. You were…cute. Your cheeks were full and with oranges, your giggling was like eating candy for the first time. Like a sugar rush. Blood flooded his cheeks, his pupils were dilating.

It would be his secret. No one had to know that he thought you were the prettiest little thing around. Not even he needed to know. Hobie would push it into the recesses of his mind and let it linger there, fester until he'd be forced to deal with it. He had to get you off this ship before it became a problem. Before you became a problem. You had only been a mild inconvenience for him so far, barely even that. You were loud without speaking, always standing exactly where he needed you not to, and ever since you’ve found a way to communicate you’ve been signing to no end. You’ve made yourself likable and endearing to the crew in a matter of 2 days.

You might've been pretty, but he knew what hid just beneath them. Your supple lips hid fangs. Your long lashes and glittering eyelids hid the eyes that some could say were the last things they’ve ever seen. Soft hands held sharp claws. The soft valleys of your body meant to hypnotize.

The silence between the two of you was soft and quiet. The Mary Jane groaned with the rock of the waves pushing her side to side. The subtle smack of your lips. Your eyes looking up at him. He still can't bear to look at them without thinking of his mother's terrible fate.

His mother. You. His mother. You. His sight flickered.

How utterly lonely Hobie felt. On a ship in the middle of the sea, stranded. It was ironic really. He offered a home to so many, and yet, he could never go back home himself. Surrounded by so many yet completely and terribly alone.

But there were ways to bring home back in the darkest of nights.

“Have ya ever woven a basket before?” Hobie asked, his voice breaking through the tender silence between you two. You blinked, once, twice, then shook your head slowly. ‘Never.’ You are the last bit of your orange and licked your lips slowly, sucking on the pads of your fingers. You barely even knew what a basket was but you were more than willing to find out if he’d be the one teaching you.

You have been practicing signing with Hobie and his crew. Now you can communicate a great plethora of words. But it’s Hobie who understands you the best. You only really bothered to talk to him. ‘Me want learn.’ 

Hobie raised a brow at you. “Ya wanna learn?” You nod with the sweetest little smile on your lips. ‘Yes. You teach me please.’

He nipped at his bottom lip. It wouldn't hurt to teach you. Maybe it would help him. He hasn't woven a basket in many, many years, but he could still do it with his eyes closed.

Wordlessly, Hobie grabbed the handle to the lantern and stood up. You watched him walk towards the small stars that led out of the galley. You had learned by now that whenever Hobie left you, he usually didn't want you to follow so you stayed with learned obedience. It was only when he turned to you and motioned you to come that you got up and rushed up to him.

You followed him into the storage room where there happened to be straw on the floor. “Ya wanna grab as much straw as ya can. We’re gonna use i’ t’weave a basket.”

Hobie was uncharacteristically tender with you. He showed you which straw you should use to weave so that the basket isn't too weak but also flexible enough that you can bend it without it breaking. He placed his hand on your shoulder, careful not to press too hard into your wound. You looked at him, his concentration, the sharpness of his side profile. A jem. This feeling called desire. You wanted to be close to him. You wanted him to like you. You wanted to be what humans called a “friend”.

Once you collected a sufficient amount of straw, Hobie coaxed you to make your way to the deck where the two of you sat at the helm and placed your straw before you.

“Ya wanna start like this.” Hobie was slow to demonstrate to you, crossing one straw with another. You followed him, watching with careful eyes. It was quite easy at first but with each crossing of the straws it became harder to keep up with.

You let out something of a distressed cry. Tossing down your misshapen basket, your eyes welled with tears of frustration.

Hobie set his basket down to move to your side to help you. “Hey, hey, ‘s okay, lil’ pearl. Lemme see.” Suddenly before the fluttering lantern fire you two had huddled close into, you were pressed side to side. With his arm pressed into yours, his knee against your chaste thigh, he leaned in close and took your basket into his hands. Nimble fingers skillfully reweave your mistakes while he croons at you. “You were doin’ well. Ya just need t’ leave a bit tighter.”

Hobie felt like his mother teaching him to weave for the first time. He wanted to be tender and patient like her. To offer the kindness she had afforded him to you.

He looked up only to find you were already staring at him. Your faces were rather close for comfort and for once, Hobie looked you in the eyes. You were pretty, so very pretty, tragically so. How many men have looked at you and thought the very same thing before being dragged into the ocean never to be seen again? How many mothers have thought you a child and reached out to help you only to be taken from their families.

Hobie cleared his throat and moved away from you. “Ya should be good. Jus’ remember to keep i’ tight.” He moved back across from you and went to work on his own basket.

Things between you fell into silence. The strain of the straw, the waves against the side of the boat, the utter silence of night. Hobie remembered how it was to be alone with his mother before a fire, weaving, nimble fingers occasionally stroking his hair.

Your voice broke through the silence. It was strained and almost choking but it was in the distinct tune of the song his mother used to hum. You were trying to replicate it. Hobie recognized even so and froze in the middle of weaving in a piece of straw. He dropped his basket and looked at you, eyes wide and hostile. “How do ya know tha’?” He was quiet at first, hands curling into fists.

“I said, how do ya know that?!” He was yelling now, standing so swiftly that ke knocked over the lantern and shattered it. The flame went out, smothered by the glass shards landing on it. He snarled at you with a ferocious, righteous fury.

It was stupid of him to think he could get close to you, be kind to you. He should be grateful. You reminded him of just what you are. He was mistaken to think you could be anything more than what you were. You took his mother from him. How could he ever treat you with more than the bare minimum of kindness.

You whimpered, curling up and wrapping your arms around yourself. You meant no harm. With trembling hands you began to sign. ‘You sleep sing loud. Please no hurt me.’

You thought he was going to hurt you. You were fortunate that he was a man of his word. He swore to himself that no harm would be brought to anyone who sought refuge on his ship. That included you.

Hobie dragged his tongue along the soft inner flesh of his cheek and placed his face in the palms of his hands. You were still whimpering, curled up in a quivering ball in the dark. The stars watched the way you two fell apart at the slightest touch. All it took was a song for whatever semblance of friendship you two had to completely decay.

He marched away, stepping on his basket as he went, destroying it under his boot. Hobie murmured, almost growled at you.

“Go t’sleep, pearl. And don' come t’my door again."

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱: @lovelyygirl8 @humungus-mythology-geek

[varpusvaras]

Bail left soon after bringing Fox to their rooms.

"I'll be back later", he promised before going. "I'm sure that at least Leia will be coming by before it, though."

The words at least were said a bit too much emphasis to be just simple words. Fox didn't feel the need to comment on it. He knew already what would be coming.

The trembling and overall numbness was receding slightly as he got to sit down. It would take a while for it to go away completely, but that had been his normal for almost twenty years by now. Fox had gotten more than used to just sitting and waiting.

Breha sat down next to him, and wordlessly took his hand to hers. Her fingers begun to draw slow circles first on the back of his hand, and then at his palm. It always helped somewhat with the stiffness of his muscles that would set in with everything else, and she was, by now, just as accustomed to it all as he was.

"Did you see him?" Fox asked. "Cody."

"I did", Breha answered. "I did not get to talk to him, which was, perhaps, for the best. He only found out that you are alive today by accident, as they were escaping the Death Star with Leia. She did not want to leave you behind on Alderaan, and it slipped from her in her alarm. I'm not at all sure what I could've possibly said to him, if anything at all."

Fox nodded. He did not fault Leia in the slightest. She must've been scared out of her mind in that situation, seeing the Death Star looming over Alderaan, and knowing what it was capable of. Fox had also known that there was always the possibility for the truth to come out, but perhaps during the years, the possibility had started to feel too distant to be truly real anymore. He could not come up with anything satisfactory for Breha to say, either, even with all the time to think.

Twenty years was a long time.

"You leave him to me", he said. "He's my brother."

That was still true, even after all the time had passed.

Breha nodded. She squeezed his hand gently.

Fox pushed Cody away from his thoughts for the time being.

"What about Luke?" He asked. "Did you have the chance to talk with him yet?"

"I did, though very briefly", Breha said. "He's rather popular at the moment, as you can imagine, but Leia managed to introduce us. He's a very sweet boy."

She was quiet for a brief moment, contemplating her words.

"He looks very much like his father", she said. "But he has Padmé's smile."

"That's good", Fox said. "Things were always a bit better every time Senator Amidala smiled."

It was strange, all of it. Luke had been another thing that had remained a possibility for so long, simultaneously so far away but so incredibly close. He and Leia had been separated from each other before they had even got to know they had a sibling, but some things were truly impossible to ever truly be separated. Luke was Leia's brother. Always had been, always would be, no matter the distance between them.

Fox had hoped that the moment they met each other would've marked the beginnings of a different world, one that even he had never got to witness during his life.

Well, perhaps, this really was it.

They fell into comfortable silence then, with Breha massaging Fox's hand, and Fox trying his best to get everything he could out of the quiet moment they were having, before everything would get moving again. Leia was going to be here any moment. He would've have to talk to Cody and unpack everything. They would have to leave the base, now that the Empire knew where they were, and that would have to happen sooner than later.

So, for now, Fox simply breathed. He leaned back against the wall and let his eyes wander around the room. It wasn't anything big, just another room that was very clearly still used to storage some items, even though it was meant to be sleeping quarters for two people high on the command chain. Leia and Bail were rarely at the base at the same time, and Fox could see that they had divided the room neatly in half for both of their items, so the other could effortlessly use the room while the other was not there.

There was a flower growing on the desk, one that Fox knew was from the Palace's gardens. A small piece of Alderaan to have, when they were not at home.

Fox felt suddenly a bit ill at the thought of that one single flower being the only piece of Alderaan left. He pushed the thought away the best he could. Alderaan was still there. They were all still alive.

They had survived.

It was at that moment when the door flew open, and Leia ran in.

She stopped in the middle of the room, just for a second, to catch her breath and for her eyes to lock onto Fox, and then she was crossing the rest of the distance and collapsing on Fox's arms.

Fox was still rather numb and stiff, and the trembling had not yet completely ceased, but there wasn't going to be a moment in his life where he would not hold her when she so wanted.

Leia buried her face onto his shirt. She was breathing deeply, in a way that Fox recognised meant that she was doing her best not to cry.

"Leia." Fox stroked her shoulder, where his arm was wrapped around her upper body. "Leili'ika. Let me look at you?"

He gave Leia a moment to gather herself. There were still unshed tears in her eyes when she finally did lift her head to face him. Her hair was falling out of where it had been tied up, and despite all of the relief and the high of the victory that were present on her face, she looked exhausted.

Fox held her a little tighter. She was so small, compared to him, even smaller than Breha. Only nineteen years old, and she had saved them all.

One strand of her hair was falling over her eye. Fox raised his hands to push it back, and to then take her face in them.

"My brave girl", he said. Leia smiled then, wide and bright, though it was preceded by a slight sniffle.

"Would've been easier to be brave, if I hadn't had to worry about you", she said, her voice airy with held-back laughter, the accusation falling just a little bit flat because of it.

"I know", Fox said anyway. "I'm sorry. You did it all, still. I couldn't be more proud of you."

He leaned his head forward, and Leia immediately did the same, letting her forehead rest against his, her hands still grasping onto the fabric of his shirt a bit too tightly. Fox did not feel the need to say anything. If she needed the simple comfort, he would always give it to her.

"Have mama and papa told you yet?" She asked after a moment. "That your brothers are here?"

"They did", Fox said. "Cody helped you escape, right?"

"He did", Leia said. "He's just as you always described him as. He has...he has missed you, I think."

"I have certainly missed him", Fox said, though he knew that he had had the privilege of doing so without all of the grief.

"I didn't tell him that you're here, yet", Leia said. "I wanted to see you first."

She leaned slightly back then, her eyes averting his.

"I just", she swallowed between her words. "I was so scared, Buir."

"I know", Fox said. "I was too."

Yet, they had all made it to the other side of it all.

That had to mean something.

[cateyesinlove]

Queen Clarion Teenage mom theory

LOL omg so when I first started reading this book, I told my wife about me thinking of Clarion as a teenage mom and then I posted in GoodReads a comment and I don't wanna feel insane alone so here it is!

When the book began we already saw the disconnect between Calrion and her subjects, she already has a distance that she expects will expand and grow as she approaches her coronation.

"The sight of her subjects, so completely and uncomplicated happy, should have delighted her. But right now, it was only a painful reminder of her own queenly solitude. As much as she wanted to, she would never truly belong among them."

annotation on my book; "This right here reminds me of a teenage mom and I wanna cry because she already views them as her children but she, herself is so young."

Clarion was just a girl who quickly was put in the role of queen, she was going to be their queen, she was gonna be the one who rules them, sees for them, solves problems, and takes care of them.

She is just like a teenage mom. She herself has so much to experience, but she has to settle for living through the experiences of her "children."

Clarion herself says that she that her fairies being happy is enough for her, that it should be enough.

Because of these responsibilities, she knows that no matter how close she becomes now with the ministers of the seasons or Petra and Artemis, the moment she is crowned, she will never be at the same level as them. With Milori, this concern never really crosses her mind because she sees him as an equal, he is the only one who understands because in certain ways he himself is a teenage father, only that he had no to train him which made him not able to yearn the same way she does.

I find it so insane when at the end they are forced to be separated, he tells her that she will have the love of her subjects BUT THEY BOTH KNOW IT WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH BECAUSE HE FEELS THE SAME WAY, THEY BOTH NEED EACH OTHER

CRAZY THEORY BUT STAY WITH ME, I AM COOKING!

I think that governing fairies come from kids who wish upon the second star, I think that she and Milori come from the wish and laugh of the same child.

[zennin8]

Does Ekko love Jinx or Powder?​

The side of the blue rose represents Jinx, and the other side represents Powder. Although they have two distinct faces, the sides of a coin are necessary to form a complete whole. This shows that Ekko understands and values all facets of the person he is gifting.

"I dreamed that the undercity could be like this, but I ended up getting carried away by the things that were wrong. I gave up on it. I gave up on you." -Ekko

In this quote, Ekko shows that he recognizes the mistakes of giving up on Jinx after she joined Silco, instead of trying to understand her reasons. It shows how external influences or misguided ideas can lead one astray.

This indicates a path of mistakes or deviations that distanced him from her, increasingly creating this rivalry between the two and suppressing any kind of feeling. The way Ekko highlighted the mistakes also demonstrates that he truly regrets them.

"It doesn’t matter what happened in the past, it’s never too late to build something new for someone who is worth it" - Ekko

Após retornar, Ekko automaticamente foi atrás de Jinx. Ninguém sugeriu que ele deveria trazê-la de volta ou convencê-la a lutar na guerra; ele só queria muito vê-la depois de tudo o que aconteceu

Searching for Jinx from his universe, especially on his own initiative, can be a sign that there is an emotional interest or persistent affection. Ekko was really willing to let go of the past and any misguided ideas about Jinx. This shows that, unconsciously, he wants to reconcile the differences and reestablish the relationship with the Jinx from his universe, with whom they both had wronged each other a lot.

During the fight, there is a moment of hesitation on Ekko's part. This hesitation suggests that, despite everything that happened, he still cares about her and has difficulty seeing her just as an enemy. This internal conflict of Ekko shows that he still values the connection they had and that past feelings still influence his actions in the present.

Ekko salvou Jinx do suicídio, esse gesto poderoso pode indicar que Ekko valoriza o relacionamento e não quer desistir dela novamente, mesmo reconhecendo as imperfeições de Jinx.

Ekko understands that Powder is different from Jinx, and Jinx is completely different from the terrible being he preferred to believe she was. The events on the bridge showed that Ekko always had this irrational difficulty in seeing her just as an enemy, as he so much wanted.

This feeling always existed, even when he saw only Jinx. All this experience in the other universe made him awaken the feeling he had repressed all these years. The same irrational feeling was present when he hesitated to kill her on the bridge, despite everything that happened. This same feeling made him not allow her to kill herself. It was the same feeling that made him ask her to fight and join him….

Ekko's gift to Powder, the two-faced necklace, symbolizes the acceptance and understanding of the two parts of her identity: Powder and Jinx. He recognizes that these two facets are not completely separate, but rather parts of a whole that form who she is now, someone Ekko was willing to get to know again and not give up on saving more than a thousand times, if necessary.

CONCLUSÃO : Ekko amava Powder, e esses sentimentos nunca desapareceram com o nascimento de Jinx, eles apenas se confundiram. No outro universo, ele percebeu que realmente podia sentir algo por ela. Ele sabia que não podia ficar ali, mas ainda podia consertar seu próprio universo. Retornando, ele teria uma segunda chance de não abandoná-la e de entender seus sentimentos, mas no final, ele se arrependeu sozinho por não ter conseguido. ⏱️💣