#or i oddly relate to it a bit too much

[loonatic260]

So often, I think about how Thomas's relationship with Edward (the blind soldier in season 2) would have gone if Edward was permitted to stay and recover at the hospital. I mean, really, there's so many different scenarios of how things *could* have gone for Thomas if his love interests loved him back (and stuck around long enough to make it work).

During the confrontation in the courtyard (S2E2)... Corporal Barrow to his left, Nurse Crawley to his right, and a badgering doctor in front of him, Edward speaks his mind about wanting to stay. "Please— don't send me away. Not yet," the soldier states, contorlling his emotions. And instead of Thomas being cut off this time, he continues to speak, "Sir, surely we... can still take care of him, until the time comes that he is fully recovered." Thomas looks over to Edward, for the response in his gaze that supports and appreciates his efforts, but is quickly reminded that a look of condolence is hard to get out of a blind man. "Corporal Barrow, you will not speak out of turn—" his tone shifts, "every one of our beds is needed for the injurred and dying. Lieutenant, you will make your recovery at Farley. Corporal, I will see you in my office." The doctor pats Edward's shoulder and turns away, leaving the three in silence. Sybil looks to Thomas, then to Edward, "We are fully capable of keeping you here to treat you until you are better. Thomas, I'm sure we can find a way to change the doctor's mind." Thomas takes a long moment to think of what could be said, but Edward breaks his thought by looking up towards him. Thomas knows those bright eyes can't see him, but Edward's longing for an answer, and longing for some way to stay, are clearly conveyed by that deep stare. Thomas distracts himself from the way the light shown across his face and illuminated his scars. "I don't want to leave, Corporal, not right yet. I don't feel fully recovered yet— a convalescent home won't help me." Thomas looks to Sybil. They both know Edward's outlook on his own life; it isn't good, and if they can get him to stay under their care, they'd know he'd be a healthier man of it.

"Please, one man staying here to recover- or convalesce, as you put it- is not getting in the way of us taking care of other injurred soldiers." Thomas stands opposite of the doctor, only a desk between them but many dense layers of invisible emotions as well. "We have the equipment and time to continue to tend to Edward while caring for others' just as well," Sybil enters the office eagerly to back him up. "I am taken aback by both of your confidence. Nurse Crawley, you may be used to having the social upper-hand, but not here. My decision is final in keeping Ed—" The clicking heels of an adamant, old woman can be heard stomping nearer, alerting Clarkson of his likely misjudgment. "Doctor Clarkson, I do beg your pardon, but have you tended to Lieutenant Courtenay as closely as Corporal Barrow or Nurse Crawley?" Her distinct tone sends exaughst from every hole of the doctor's body. "I do recall Thomas talking with the Lieutenant, reading him his letters, and offering condolences, therefore giving him an accurate assessment of Lieutenant Courtenay's mental health." Sybil looks to Thomas from behind, looking to see even the slightest smile peaking through his cheeks, but Corporal Barrow stays straight-faced. Sybil knows they've won this argument now. "And Nurse Crawley has tended to his physical needs and growth in his condition, so she should be more than qualified- in this circumstance- to claim whether or not Lieutenant Courtenay should continue to be seen here, so if she claims he is still of our assistance, then we shall grant him that." Without much more word from Doctor Clarkson— at least not much anything that Thomas had to listen to due to smirking and showing Sybil his slight excitement— Corporal Barrow met Lieutenant Courtenay at his cot.

"Are you happy to be out of your bandages, Lieutenant Courtenay?" Thomas smiled towards Edward, finding himself repeating natural mannerisms from his service at Downton when it wasn't always necessary, especially right now. "Please, don't call me 'Lieutenant.' I've lost that privilege of title the moment I wasn't able to perform my duties properly anymore." Slouching halfway out from under his sheets, he turned away from the sound of Thomas's voice, imagining the disappointment. "You can call me 'Edward'," the soldier finished. Thomas furrowed his brows, "I told you not to be so hard on yourself. I won't lie to you, and I won't tell you that you'll be able to perform your duties properly again, but I can say that you will- and do- have the opportunity to live a good life." Thomas laid his palms on Edward's knuckles, carefully centered on the soldier's knee as if to plead. "I already told you: don't let other's drag you down. It doesn't matter what they think of ya, or do to ya, so you'll resolve things with your brother and mother—" Thomas saw the muscles in Edward's face start to quiver, "Or else I'll have to go knock some sense into them, and they don't want that!" A chuckle was pulled out of Edward as a tear strolled down his cheek, and Thomas gave a laugh of relief to be able to make Edward smile. "We'll take care of you as long as we can, Edward. We'll make things work. Despite what Clarkson thinks is best for someone he doesn't know."

Sybil smiled from the doorway, watching their interaction, and glad of their soldier's brightened spirits. She'd never seen Thomas so emotional before, but it was an effective way of getting through to Edward. Surprisingly, the doctor listened to Isobel once again; it seems that only Isobel can truly get through to Doctor Clarkson.

[bmpmp3]

the villainess flips the script is a really fun manhwa with gorgeous art and my wonderful son luca who is a little bitch who i love so much BUT i will say. the family tree situation as the story has gone on makes my head hurt

[emberwhite]

Do people judge a book by its cover? They absolutely do. They take one look at this, and they either often instantly hate it or love it.

Talking about how things should be is just yelling into the void. There is just reality. And this is the reality of being a self-published indie author.

People make complete conclusions based off of incomplete information. In this case, my book, there are no adults pressuring the boy into getting any surgery. There's no mention of surgery at all even. This person is thinking of a children's book written by a very popular political figure. Some people have had the courtesy to ask me if it's like that book. It's not at all. It's not even political. It's a story told from the perspective of a kid who grows up knowing they are very different and yet can tell no one about it. Even saying a word about it would bring all of his deepest and darkest fears into reality.

The challenge was to make the story as dark and scary as I could without ever going too far for a children's book. There are already some scary children's books and movies out there that prove what's possible, and I worked with my illustrator, Marta, to push it as far as we could go. There's one page we had to re-do almost completely because even I said that's a bit much.

But I'm very happy with the final result because we also got to do so many fun and colorful pages like this.

There will be plenty more drive-by reviews as the book continues to grow and grow. They take one look and see a soapbox to express all of their disappointments and frustrations in life.

I think they might be scared of the book. The world they grew up in is slowly fading away day by day, and it's all they have come to know. They've been around for so long that everything has become a bore to them, and the only remaining pleasure is to escape into the past in order to better preserve it. I can oddly relate, actually.

So the book is on Amazon, and you can watch the whole thing for free on YouTube as well. If you get the chance, let me know what you think. Literally, watching it for free and then giving it a simple rating on Amazon is the best way to support the book. But I also love waking up to reviews like this every day.

[petermorwood]

More on pre-electricity lighting.

Interesting to see this one pop up again after nearly two years - courtesy of @dduane, too! :->

*****

After experiencing a couple more storm-related power cuts since my original post, as well as a couple of after-dark garden BBQs, I've come to the conclusion that C.J. Cherryh puts far too much emphasis on "how dark things were pre-electric light".

For one thing eyes adjust, dilating in dim light to gather whatever illumination is available. Okay, if there's none, there's none - but if there's some, human eyes can make use of it, some better or just faster than others. They're the ones with "good night vision".

Think, for instance, of how little you can see of your unlit bedroom just after you've turned off the lights, and how much more of it you can see if you wake up a couple of hours later.

There's also that business of feeling your way around, risking breaking your neck etc. People get used to their surroundings and, after a while, can feel their way around a familiar location even in total darkness with a fair amount of confidence.

Problems arise when Things Aren't Where They Should Be (or when New Things Arrive) and is when most trips, stumbles, hacked shins and stubbed toes happen, but usually - Lego bricks and upturned UK plugs aside - non-light domestic navigation is incident-free.

*****

Here are a couple of pics from one of those BBQs: one candle and a firepit early on, then the candle, firepit and an oil lamp much later, all much more obvious than DD's iPad screen.

Though I remain surprised at how well my phonecam was handling this low light, my own unassisted eyes were doing far better. For instance, that area between the table and the firepit wasn't such an impenetrable pool of darkness as it appears in the photo.

I see (hah!) no reason why those same Accustomed Eyes would have any more difficulty with candles or oil lamps as interior lighting, even without the mirrors or reflectors in my previous post.

With those, and with white interior walls, things would be even brighter. There's a reason why so many reconstructed period buildings in Folk Museums etc. are (authentically) whitewashed not just outside but inside as well. It was cheap, had disinfectant qualities, and was a reflective surface. Win, win and win.

*****

All right, there were no switches to turn on a light. But there was no need for what C.J. describes as stumbling about to reach the fire, because there were tinderboxes and, for many centuries before them, flint and steel. Since "firesteels" have been heraldic charges since the 1100s, the actual tool must have been in use for even longer.

Tinderboxes were fire-starter sets with flint, steel and "tinder" all packed into (surprise!) a box. The tinder was easily lit ignition material, often "charcloth", fabric baked in an airtight jar or tin which would now start to glow just from a spark.

They're mentioned in both "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings". Oddly enough, "Hobbit" mentions matches in a couple of places, but I suspect that's a carry-over from when it was just a children's story, not part of the main Legendarium.

Tinderboxes could be simple, just a basic flint-and-steel kit with some tinder for the sparks to fall on...

...or elaborate like this one, with a fancy striker, charcloth, kindling material and even wooden "spills" (long splinters) to transfer flame to a candle or the kindling...

This tinderbox even doubles as a candlestick, complete with a snuffer which would have been inside along with everything else.

Here's a close-up of the striker box with its inner and outer lids open:

What looks like a short pencil with an eraser is actually the striker. A bit of tinder or charcloth would have been pulled through that small hole in the outer lid, which was then closed.

There was a rough steel surface on the lid, and the striker was scraped along it, like so:

This was done for a TV show or film, so the tinder was probably made more flammable with, possibly, lighter fuel. That would be thoroughly appropriate, since a Zippo or similar lighter works on exactly the same principle.

A real-life version of any tinderbox would usually just produce glowing embers needing blown on to make a flame, which is shown sometimes in movies - especially as a will-it-light-or-won't-it? tension build - but is usually a bit slow and non-visual for screen work.

*****

There were even flintlock tinderboxes which worked with the same mechanism as those on firearms. Here's a pocket version:

Here are a couple of bedside versions, once again complete with a candlestick:

And here are three (for home defence?) with a spotlight candle lantern on one side and a double-trigger pistol on the other.

Pull one trigger to light the candle, pull the other trigger to fire the gun.

What could possibly go wrong? :-P

*****

Those pistol lanterns, magnified by lenses, weren't just to let their owner see what they were shooting at: they would also have dazzled whatever miscreant was sneaking around in the dark, irises dilated to make best use of available glimmer.

Swordsmen both good and bad knew this trick too, and various fight manuals taught how to manage a thumb-shuttered lamp encountered suddenly in a dark alley.

There's a sword-and-lantern combat in the 1973 "Three Musketeers" between Michael York (D'Artagnan) and Christopher Lee (Rochefort), which was a great idea.

Unfortunately it failed in execution because the "Hollywood Darkness" which let viewers see the action, wasn't dark enough to emphasise the hazards / advantages of snapping the lamps open and shut.

This TV screencap (can't get a better one, the DVD won't run in a computer drive) shows what I mean.

In fact, like the photos of the BBQ, this image - and entire fight - looks even brighter through "real eyes" than with the phonecam. Just as there can be too much dark in a night scene, there can also be too much light.

*****

One last thing I found when assembling pics for the post were Folding Candle-lanterns.

They were used from about the mid-1700s to the later 20th century (Swiss Army ca. 1978) as travel accessories and emergency equipment, and IMO - I've Made A Note - they'd fit right into a fantasy world whose tech level was able to make them.

The first and last are reproductions: this one is real, from about 1830.

The clear part was mica - a transparent mineral which can be split into thin flexible sheets - while others use horn / parchment, though both of these are translucent rather than transparent. Regardless, all were far less likely to break than glass.

One or two inner surfaces were usually tin, giving the lantern its own built-in reflector, and tech-level-wise, tin as a shiny or decorative finish has been used since Roman times.

I'm pretty sure that top-of-the-line models could also have been finished with their own matching, maybe even built-in, tinderboxes.

And if real ones didn't, fictional ones certainly could. :->

*****

Yet more period lighting stuff here, including flintlock alarm clocks (!)

[juniperdugong]

The games we play - Mingyu

WC: 2.2k || Genre: Fluff || CW: Drinking || husband!mingyu x wife!reader, implied that the reader is well-known in their field of work

A/N: I swear this was supposed to be a drabble or short fic...

It was getting late. The bulk of the guests had already excused themselves to their other nightly duties and that's exactly what you were thinking of doing right now. You wanted to get out of here and get something more substantial to eat than the small appetizers that were becoming more and more scarce.

You knew that this event would drag on late, the company hosting it was notorious for their "after parties" and late gatherings. Honestly, you probably would've gone home by now if it weren't for the man catching your eye from across the floor.

The dim light might've made it hard to see but you knew that silhouette anywhere. The big broad shoulders, the tall frame, even down to the suit that was perfectly tailored to him. Kim Mingyu, oh how wonderful it was to be able to call him your husband.

You were posted up near the bar, nursing a cocktail that tasted more like candy than alcohol. The number you had on was a dress handpicked by Mingyu weeks before your flight over here. He had praised you so much for just putting it on that you practically felt like royalty in it. There was very little that compared to the love he held for you, that's something you were never afraid to admit.

You fight back the urge to bite your lip as you begin to walk towards him but you're stopped in your tracks when you see a woman approach him first. She's beautiful and you can't even deny it. What was there to deny when she was the main event of the fashion show that happened hours prior.

Her gait was nothing if not seductive and she wore a beautiful gown that was only accentuated by the heavy jewels that adorned her body. You couldn't make out what their conversation entailed but you could tell she at least had an eye on Mingyu. The way she would casually touch his arm in a small fit of laughter; Surely whatever he said couldn't be that funny. You raised an eyebrow in amusement and fascination at their antics, striding towards them once again to make a show out of your relationship.

"Y/n, right?" Once again you are stopped, at least this time it's from something/someone tangible.

You turn and put on your practiced business-ready professional smile, the one that lured people in but kept them distant enough to fend off unwanted advances of any kind, business-related or otherwise. Greeting you was a rather handsome man, the type that would have people thank his parents for their generous donation to the world and its beauty. Oddly enough you'd become used to people like this while beside Mingyu.

The conversation went on with the usual, something about how great your work has been, how they've heard so much about you from their colleagues, and, of course, ending with the staple "We should get a drink sometime.". A routine you knew all too well in your line of work. As you bid farewell to the stranger of a man you turn your attention back towards Mingyu - Mingyu who, with a smug smile, waltzes your way and places himself where the other man once stood.

Now the real fun began.

"You come here often?" Ha, you just had to scoff, was this really the way he wanted to start this tonight?

"Come here? Like this event? I think this is the first time they've held this event actually." He knew that sly little smirk on your lips, so you wanted to play it smart tonight and tease him a little for his setup? Bring it on.

"Right, forgive me. I meant the bar-"

"The bar? Do I frequent this bar or bars in general? Either way, it seems you have the wrong idea about me, sir." You were playing hard to get and he was all for it. He would never admit it but he liked a bit of the chase and back and forth, more than that he knew that you loved it - And how could he deprive the love of his life of something they enjoy?

He had to divert and fast! Or else you would overpower him and it's much too early for that. "That man you were speaking with, you two seemed to get along quite well. Someone, you know?"

"Not at all. Just met in fact. But yeah, maybe there was some connection between us... plus he was easy on the eyes." Oh, now you were just doing him dirty. Hard to get is one thing but jealousy? You were going to be the death of him. But you're plan was working. It was a steady rollercoaster of riling him up just to bring him back down and into your arms.

"Hmm, I see... I don't think your husband would be too fond of you speaking that way." He taps at the ring on your finger, putting emphasis on his own ring, the one that mirrors yours. You can tell he's getting annoyed by the way his brows furrow and he's almost pouting, he stays composed but you're hedging your bets that he caves in less than 5 minutes this time.

"What about your wife? Was that her you were talking to over there? Or were you just casually flirting with a beautiful woman for fun behind her back?" Now it was your turn to act annoyed, all was fair when it came to this little game.

"Oh, my wife?" He plays with the band on his ring finger, making sure that it's in your line of sight, "No, that wasn't her. She's much more beautiful and much less willing to give in to me, I love that about her." A small blush falls on your face at his words but you remain calm, it's all about waiting him out. He thinks he's got you though, celebrating quietly in his head as he sees you get red. She'll be dropping the act any moment now...

"You know what I like about my husband?" You pause and see that he's at the edge of his seat waiting to be praised. "He does whatever I tell him to do. Actually, he's waiting in the car for me right now." Huh? You had Mingyu thoroughly confused with the directions this time. The look on his face conveyed something much more than confusion though, he was putty in your hands the moment you finished your last sentence.

The game was done, he'd broken before you did. Mingyu however was still unaware of that fact. At the moment, he's just trying to decipher your words and you have to smile and scrunch your nose at the cute face he makes as he's deep in thought.

Did you want him to go to the car? But then he couldn't walk you out; He began to pout at the thought. Was he supposed to stay in character? But then why would you bring up the car? Aghhh, you had his brain fried.

With a swish of your dress, you turn so your back's against the counter, holding your drink in your hand you take a small sip. "Mingyu baby, go wait in the car for me? I want to finish my drink real quick.", you drop your character and fish the car keys from your clutch, dropping them on the counter between you two.

"W-Why'd you make your husband wait in the car for you? Got somewhere to be this late?" You turned to face him quizzically. Is he still in this? By the look on his face and the way he picks up the keys without question, he knows he's cracked but he's still fishing for answers. With a smile you turn once again to lean your upper body over the counter, a pose that you knew would make him flustered. If he was trying to work for it, then how could you not oblige?

"Well..." You start with a small huff. "You see, I know my husband very well. Well enough that I know that he's still hungry after scarfing down a ton of appetizers tonight." You poke at his belly only to feel his abs, immediately you tear your hand away in fear of what you might do if you kept it there too long. (You had the strength of the gods for being able to pull away, honestly.) "I told him that if waited patiently outside while I finished my drink that I'd get him a hamburger, maybe a few if he was really nice to me tonight."

Oh ho ho ho, you had his interest peaked! People often compared him to a puppy but that side of him really shined through at times like this. He's smart enough to be able to get what he wants regardless of who he's talking to but he'd never even think of being so mischievous with you. He actually really enjoyed you ordering him around sometimes, as strange as that was at the beginning of your relationship.

The whole facade he was trying to keep up crumbled into pieces as he crouched eye level with you and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. You patted at the back of his head as he ravaged your neck with hard pecking kisses, his own brand of thankfulness towards you. Grabbing your shoulder he made you look at him straight on, a determined look on his face.

"Your husband sounds like a very nice and well-mannered man. I'm sure that he'll appreciate anything you'd get him." He got back into character immediately, rushing the last of his words, and lasting a mere few seconds before melting into your touch as you cupped his face with your open hand. He pressed a small kiss to your palm before quickly sandwiching your head between his hands and covering his lips with yours. You giggle into the sudden kiss, he was always so hasty when it came down to it.

With that, he twirled the keys on his fingers and walked out of the event, completely satisfied and content.

It took a few minutes to finish up your drink. In the meantime you scoped out the rest of the scene, it was practically deserted at this point. It's times like this where you're both glad and annoyed that you have Mingyu. On one hand, he's a total social butterfly and it's really helped you get out of your shell... On the other, he always stayed out late when it came to parties and events, he could drink people under the table with ease, and everyone ate up whatever time he was willing to give.

Walking out you spot your car. Of course, it was much closer to the entrance than where you left it. He was trying extra hard to earn brownie points tonight.

Getting in, you let the warmth envelope you. It felt so nice to be in a familiar space after socializing all night. Just as you were getting comfortable you felt a small poke on your thigh. Slowly you turn your head and you practically glow with a smile at the sight.

Mingyu's making puppy eyes, his infamous ones that make people swoon and sigh over him. That coupled with an anticipatory pout, how couldn't your heart melt over him? His hand is resting on the middle console, you pick it up in yours and interlace your fingers, giving a small kiss to the back of his hand.

He looks at you expectantly, "Baby?", his voice couldn't have been softer.

Sigh... "Yes, Mingyu. We're still getting food." You say in an exasperated tone. You laugh when you see him break out in a small happy dance, dumbly acknowledging your words through movement. "Are you actually gonna let me pay this time?" You posture the infamous question of the night.

He pretends to be deep in though, stroking an imaginary beard like a scholar. "Not this time..." He moves his mouth side to side like he's thinking of what to say next, "But I will let you hand them my card."

"You never let me pay for anything, Gyu. The least I could do is buy you some food... You did offer to be designated driver tonight-"

"Hey! I jumped at the opportunity! My life, you never drink. You can't begin to understand how excited I was to see you let loose... Even if it was only a few drinks." He snickers as he whispers the last bit and you gently smack his face in retaliation for his slight towards you.

"Yeah yeah whatever, just wake me up once we're at the drive-through." You begin to recline your seat before jumping back up, "And don't you dare think of ordering for me or handing the person your card just because you think I look cute when I sleep." You let out a small huff as you mock words that he's said a thousand times over, "I've heard enough of your excuses throughout the years..."

You go back to reclining your seat and pass out within minutes.

While stuck at a red light Mingyu looks over to your figure. He pulls your dress down since it's ridden up quite a bit. Grabbing his jacket from the back seat he places it over your legs. His eyes go hazy with love as he gazes at you. He stretches himself enough to reach your forehead and give you a small kiss. You really were going to be the death of him, he knew it from the start.

A/N: Hahahaha I'm totally not procrastinating writing the Scoups angst fic... hahaha totally not 😓😖😨 (I'm a big fat liar who can't handle putting ideas to paper)

Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda @porridgesblog

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: I’m On Fire*

————————————————————————-

Summary: When Joe mistakenly leaves his JB9 iced-out chain while at an away game, you bless him with a little photoshoot while you're hours away in Cincinnati.

Warnings: Smut

Paring: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Just the Two of Us

————————————————————————-

*No specific date for this fic!*

(y/n’s pov)

Joe had just left the house for an away game, and due to some work-related stuff, I wasn't able to go with him.

The pouty expression he gave me when we were standing at the front door just a little bit ago made me want to climb into his bag. His lower lip sticking out was oddly convincing, along with his blue eyes.

“Joe, you know I can't go, baby.” - you

“Please… I want you to go with me.” - Joe whined

“I wish I could go too, but I can't, J.” - you

Joe whined once again, but this time, it made me roll my eyes. My annoyance didn't last long, though, as he hunched over and laid his head on my shoulder.

“I love you.” - Joe mumbled

His face being pressed into my neck made his words muffled, but it was oddly adorable.

“I love you too, but if you don't leave now, you're going to be late.” - you

I laughed when he stood up straight and groaned.

“I'm gonna be so lonely by myself in my hotel room tonight.” - Joe

“We can Facetime, goofball.” - you

“Not the same.” - Joe whined

“Okay, enough whining. Goodbye, Joe.” - you

Joe stared at me for a few seconds, trying to come up with a response that didn't show how annoyed he really was.

“Bye…” - Joe mumbled

I stood up on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Joe’s lips. When I pulled away, I giggled at the look of his flushed cheeks.

“Love you, sheisty.” - you

“Love you too.” - Joe grinned

——

Hours later, I was bored out of my mind, all alone in this big house.

I had cleaned almost the entire house, scrolled through Pinterest, made a dinner recipe I had pinned, and finished a show I had been binging - Fool Me Once.

There was pretty much nothing to do.

All I was doing right now was lying in bed, watching the ceiling fan turn, and feeling kinda sad when I got a whiff of Joe’s scent off of his pillow.

I missed him, and I saw him just hours ago.

That's what happens when your boyfriend turns into your best friend, I guess.

Joe’s game wasn't till tomorrow, but they'd probably just landed at their destination.

Maybe I should text him?

After thinking about it for a few minutes, I made up my mind and texted Joe.

hiiii

Ew, no. Sounds desperate.

What am I even talking about? I've been with this man for six years.

I had almost deleted my message, but Joe answered before I could.

HIIII! 😁

He's such a dork, I thought to myself with a giggle.

Wyd?

Nothinggg, hbu??

Do I tell the truth or make a lie to seem productive? In the end, I told the truth.

Missing you.

My heart warmed at Joe’s message back.

I miss you too. ☹️

Are you at your hotel yet?

It took Joe a few minutes to answer, but his reasoning was ironic.

Just got back from checking in actually. Imma head up to my room, take a shower, and then ft you.

Okay, I'll talk to you then! 🫶

Talk to ya then, I LOVE YOU! 🥰

I hearted his message and than sent the sentiment back.

Love you more, baby. 😘

The conversation ended after Joe’s simple but butterfly-inducing text.

Not fuckin’ possible.

——

We were on Facetime for way longer than we should have, but neither of us cared.

The call ended with the usual “I love you more” back-and-forth playful argument.

Joe won in the end, and I can't say I’m surprised because he always did.

After the call ended, I was just lying in bed, my head on Joe’s pillow, just to smell his scent.

I got bored eventually and decided to play around in the closet. Joe always forbade me from trying on his chains, but he wasn't here.

My eyes immediately widened with excitement as I opened the top drawer on Joe’s side of our walk-in closet.

Everything was cleared out except one chain, he probably took them all with him to have options for his fit tomorrow.

“Damn, this is heavy.” - you mumbled

It was the JB9 Nike check chain Joe wore for the AFC Championship in 2022.

One of my personal favorites out of his collection but too iconic to be worn again.

God, he looked so hot that day.

I stared at myself in the mirror, the chain of my boyfriend’s initials and number adorning my neck.

That's when I got the idea.

——

Settling into my bed for the night, I grabbed my phone and giggled to myself as I looked through the pictures recently taken in my camera roll.

Nothing but black lace and that iced-out chain.

——

Next Day

Joe won his game, and sure, I was happy to see him win, but being miles away from him and unable to celebrate with him put a damper on my mood.

I watched the game by myself in the living room, and then proudly watched his post-game conference.

Just a minute after Joe left the media room, I received a text from him.

Did you watch the game?

Of course. Watched your conference too, baby.

Joe didn’t answer for a few minutes, and I thought he might've gone to take his postgame shower, but his text back made me laugh.

I just got made fun of because I was blushing from your text. “You texting yo girl?”

What did you say back? 😂

I proudly said yes. 😁

A few seconds passed before another text vibrated my phone.

Hey, I gotta go shower, though. We're set to get home late tonight, so don't wait up on me.

What if I want to?

You'll wake up with me next to you in the morning either way, so no need to wait for me to get back.

He was right, so I left him alone to go shower.

——

It was around ten o'clock, and Joe had texted me just a little bit ago, saying they were on the bus to the airport.

Out of nowhere, with no context or caption with it, I sent Joe my little experiment earlier.

Attachment: 10 images

When I was left alone with Joe’s chain earlier, I took a little photo shoot with some black lace lingerie and Joe’s chain.

He'd usually take a power nap on his way to the plane, so I was surprised when his response was quick.

Joe sent a picture of himself with his eyes wide and mouth dropped open in shock.

The silly reaction picture made me giggle, but I had no idea that Joe had just pulled his bag onto his lap while on the bus in an attempt to hide the stirring between his legs.

Fucking shit, y/n. I'm getting so hard right now that I might have to rub one out on the plane.

No. 😘

Wdym, no?

How do I word this?

You always get pissed when I get off without you, how about a taste of your own medicine?

I don't get pissed…

Joe, honey.

Please, baby.

No.

Joe sighed and put his phone on his chest, discreetly slipping his hand down his sweatpants to rearrange the erection in his boxers. He's so hard just from the sight of nothing but lingerie and his initials in the form of diamonds on your body.

He so wished he was with you, inside you.

——

When Joe got home, it was really late.

You were already sleeping, so when Joe slipped into the bedroom he made sure to be quiet.

Joe stood there for a few seconds, just admiring how peaceful you looked while sleeping.

A small smile found its way onto his face when he noticed you were wearing his t-shirt and snuggled onto his pillow instead of yours.

After staring for a lot longer than he anticipated, Joe put his bag down and took his sweatshirt off before crawling into bed beside you.

You stirred for a bit, feeling the presence of someone else near you. After moving around for a bit, you were met with a hard chest, but you knew it all too well.

Joe grinned to himself when you snuggled into him, your face against his pec. He ran his fingers through your hair, and soon, you were peacefully sleeping again.

Feeling tired but unable to sleep, Joe discreetly grabbed his phone to see the messages he wasn't able to answer on the plane and his drive home.

You sent him a video?

Joe made sure his volume was down before pressing play on the video. His eyes went wide when he was met with the sight of you fingering yourself.

All at once, Joe’s heart rate picked up, he started sweating, and his cock stirred in his sweatpants.

He didn't need volume to know you were moaning his name with each thrust of your fingers. Joe was able to read your lips.

The sight of your head thrown back, bare chest, and your sweet heat swallowing your fingers had Joe fully erect in a matter of a minute.

He needed you badly.

Joe can admit he was thinking with his dick and not his brain when he shook you awake. In his defense, most of his blood supply was in the wrong head.

“Joey?” - you mumbled

“Shit- sorry I woke you up…” - Joe

“I missed you…” - you

His heart fluttered, and he hoped you wouldn't shift around and feel him. Please just go back to sleep.

In all honesty, Joe felt guilty waking you up with his sexual needs in mind. He felt horrible and selfish.

“Missed you too, baby.” - Joe

You moved around and Joe’s eyes went wide. Please don't feel it. Please don't feel it.

Abruptly, you paused your shifting and looked up at Joe’s face. Maybe she just found a comfortable spot?

It was hard to make out Joe’s features in the dark, but you could see his piercing blue eyes easily.

Unbeknownst to Joe, you'd felt his hard-on as soon as he got it, but you wanted to mess with him, make him beg for it.

Slowly, you reached your hand out and palmed his bulge. Joe bit his lower lip to stop an audible reaction as you started rubbing him.

“He missed me too, huh?” - you giggle

“Fuck- so much.” - Joe

“Take your pants off, Joe.” - You

Joe shed his pants and boxers off faster than the speed of light, all because his girl asked.

Now that he was completely free from restraint, Joe got even harder, and he didn't think that was possible.

You spit into your hand and firmly grasped his cock, a plan forming in your mind as you started to jerk him off.

Joe was a groaning mess, relishing in the feel of your hand around his length because he'd needed this for days.

Precum was beading at Joe’s tip, so you maneuvered yourself around to take him into your mouth.

“Sh-it.” - Joe moaned

He was close, so close.

“Baby- I'm gonna… cum!” - Joe

You pulled off of him, trying to follow your plan of edging him until he couldn't help but beg for you to finish him off, but Joe was too close to stop his inevitable orgasm.

With a loud moan, Joe shot his load onto your face, some making it into your mouth.

Both of you were surprised when it happened, looking at each other with wide eyes.

“I- I'm sorry…” - Joe

“No, don't be.” - you

You reached out and put a hand on his chest, rubbing comforting circles on it.

He grabbed a tissue off of his nightstand and wiped his cum off of your face.

“That was kinda embarrassing…” - Joe

“Why?” - you

Your voice was soft, a little sad yourself that Joe felt embarrassed.

“I don't know, I couldn't stop it from happening, but it happened so fast. Like under three minutes? That's embarrassing.” - Joe

“Joe, don't be embarrassed. How long you last doesn't matter to me at all, I just wanna make you feel good.” - you

He nodded but bit the insides of his cheeks.

“I think it's kinda hot that I can get you off that fast. Makes me feel good about myself.” - you

“Really? You don't think it's funny or embarrassing?” - Joe

“No, baby.” - you

You leaned up and pressed a big kiss to Joe’s lips, one of his legs slotting between yours, causing you to grind down onto his thigh.

“Mmm, Joey baby.” - you moaned

“That's it.” - Joe

——

Next Morning

You woke up with a grin on your face as you replayed last night's events in your mind.

Joe had gotten you off twice with his fingers and tongue before he filled you up with his thick cock.

In the back of his mind, he was still feeling a little self-conscious about his first orgasm of the night, but he wouldn't let it show.

When you two were in the shower cleaning up, you could tell something was on Joe’s mind and that something was what had happened earlier.

Without saying anything, you dropped to your knees when his back was to you. He turned around and looked down at you, his dick stirring to life at the all-too-familiar position.

Despite the fact you two had just gone four rounds, Joe’s craving for you was never-ending.

You'd slowly reached out to stroke him, and you finished him off with your mouth.

He manhandled you back to your feet before pressing you against the shower wall.

“If you want me to stop, I will, but you started this.” - Joe

The feel of his thick length against your behind, and his hands holding you in place was getting you worked up all over again.

“Fuck me, Joey.” - you

You two ended the night giggling in bed as you counted up the number of orgasms shared between you two that night.

“Four for me, four for you, gah-lee!” - Joe

“I’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow morning.” - you

“Fuck I might even have a limp.” - Joe

You were pulled out of your fantasies when Joe walked into the bedroom. Toes curled at the sweet sight of him.

Joe wore nothing but a bashful smile, a pair of sweatpants, and raging bedhead.

“Hi.” - you smiled

“Hi. How'd you sleep?” - Joe

“Good. Get in bed with me?” - you

He did as you asked and curled up in bed beside you, pulling you into his chest in the process.

“Where were you?” - you

“Uh… nowhere…” - Joe

You sat up and looked at him, giving him a skeptical look as you narrowed your eyes at him.

Joe sighed and broke your eye contact.

“I was doing something downstairs. It was supposed to be a surprise after you got ready, but you can come downstairs now.” - Joe

You excitedly jumped out of Joe’s arms and ran out of the bedroom, your hand grabbing his as he followed you.

When you two got downstairs, you saw the dining table set up like a date. Breakfast on both of the plates and a bouquet of roses between them.

Joe walked away from you for a second and grabbed a rose.

He walked back up to you and held the flower in front of his bare chest.

“Go on a date with me?” - Joe

You grinned at your boyfriend so big that your cheeks hurt.

“Of course.” - you

Joe handed the single rose to you, and you stood up on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his smooth cheek.

“Thank god, woulda been really awkward if you said no.” - Joe

“I'd never say no to you.” - you laughed

The blush on his cheeks went deep, almost to the shade of the rose he gave you.

You spent the rest of the morning laughing with the handsome man you loved so deeply, wondering about how you got so lucky, and thinking about your future with him.

You were so grateful to have a man you could laugh with, share secrets with, tell all the drama to, and have intense intimate moments with. Sometimes, all within the same day or hour.

It was scary to realize how much of yourself you put in Joe’s hands, but you trusted him more than anything.

The sweet thoughts and realizations were swirling in your mind and making you smile. You'd been staring out of the window, but your thoughts were abruptly interrupted…

*BURP*

Your wide eyes snapped over to Joe, who was holding a hand over his mouth and shared the same wide-eyed look.

“Sorry, didn't expect it to be that loud.” - Joe laughed

“Gosh, I love you.” - you laughed along with him

————————————————————————-

Authors note: GOT IT OUT BEFORE MONDAY! 😆

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! ❤️❤️

[three-realms-archive]

(This me rambling, feel free to ignore and lesson 16 spoilers! ^^; hi hello btw!)

I wanna see MC sometimes staying at Purgatory Hall and the Demon Lord's Castle more often as an escape to truly relax and maybe see the brothers try to overcome some of their struggles in their own, even if it's just a bit, if not for them, then for MC who has done so much, maybe even too much, for them, y'know?

Lesson 16 was quite the turning point, but not a lot of things changed. I wanna see before and afters with everyone. I wanna see angst where everyone is trying to be normal (maybe because MC is trying to be normal), but when the slightest thing goes wrong, they all flinch to shield MC or something. The smallest smell of vlood after chopping up food for dinner? Flashback to lesson 16. MC being too cold? Mammon flashes back. Belphie standing over MC (holding blankets or just so happen to be there for some reason)? Levi is holding his breath.

But at the same time, i want to see MC flinch from Lucifer. Before Belphie, Lucifer was going to hurt MC or worse, and he did it the most and has succeeded in hurting MC the most out of the brothers. I want to see MC hold their breath anytime he gets angry but is completely calm with Satan. I wanna see MC's shoulders tense while helping with paperwork alone with him but be completely fine with doing the same with Diavolo. I wanna see Mammon acting as like a bridge between the two.

Everyone is so creative on how they write lesson 16 but i don't see a lot of "after the lesson" ones. I always wondered, if their MC went through that (assuming if they made ir canon in their MC's story), what changed, if at all?

Phantom Pain

First oneshot of Scars, Wounds and Minor Inconveniences: a oneshot series featuring slice-of-life snapshots of the aftermath of Lesson 16. Naturally, features spoilers for OG Obey Me! up until that point. Each oneshot will have an associated headcannons post, which will be linked when it goes up!

(thank you to @kittylilyheart for inspiring what will now be a oneshot series dedicated to everyday life in the aftermath of lesson 16, because there's just so many characters in this series with so many things you can write for each. they gave so many interesting examples in their submitted idea; so I'll be including some and incorporating my own. If you have an idea for something related to Obey Me! or Obey Me! Nightbringer that you'd like me to put to writing, please read the rules pinned to this blog before submitting to the blog's inbox!)

_

It’s like pins and needles, starting at your neck and running down your back. Mammon sees you arch your back oddly as you go to knock on the door to the Demon Lord’s castle; and immediately knows.

“Hey, hey.” He says as he bumps his shoulder into yours, fingers touching your sleeve. Even though he’s seen this a bunch of times, he never really knows what to do. “Ya, uh. Ya got the needles-thing again?”

“Yeah. Ugh, why now?” You groan through gritted teeth, waiting for the feeling to subside. Both you and Mammon were used to this, episodes happening every now and then. Temporary bouts of phantom pain down your back and sides, where arms had hugged you and…

Dwelling wouldn’t help. And besides; they barely inconvenienced you. You sat down and pressed your back against a nearby wall.

“Don’t do that. What are ya doin’?”

“It feels better when I put my back against something hard and flat.” You state matter-of-factly, never breaking eye contact as you slowly slide down. He looks more confused. You grin. "As long as Beel hasn't got his fifth dinner on it, the kitchen table is nice, too."

“Weird humans…” Mammon mutters disapprovingly, but he sits beside you to wait it out. His head flops to one side, cheek resting on your head, as he makes the ever-so-cliché show of pretending to stretch his arm above his head, over yours… and, eventually, around your shoulders. You snort as his fingers fidget, figuring he just doesn’t know where to place them. They first settle on your chest, lingering over where your heart beats. Then, they scurry up to your collarbone and settle on your pulse point. He presses around a little, as if searching. Then, with a satisfied hum, he leans back against the wall, too.

“I think it’s going away, now. Mams. Hey, Mams.” You shake his arm a few minutes later. He blushes at your willing contact (as if he hadn’t been holding you close this whole time) and the cutesy nickname, but shuffles back to give you space to stand. Though not before checking your back first, touching the back of his hand to the skin between your shoulder blades, which your outfit exposes. Because you’d been leaning on a metal wall, your skin is cold.

He freezes. Your skin, cold. Your lips, not breathing. The slight red from where his hand had pressed against you has a slightly red flush. Red - red, just like it had been when -

He makes a show of dusting off your shoulders, one hand curling its fingers just enough to press a little more around your neck pulse point.

He hums again, satisfied. Then, the sheer amount of touching you that he’s done today hits him - and he turns his head to the side with a not-so-subtle cough.

“Y-Yeah, okay. Good. Let’s knock, then.” Mammon straightens and flashes you one of his signature grins. You notice it wobbles a little, but you attribute that to the adorably-dramatic cough he was forcing out of his throat just moments earlier. “If we get back late, Lucifer’ll think we’re slackin.”

“We can’t stay longer? Lord Diavolo said in his letter that I can work at the castle for as long as I like.” You pout. Secretly, your heartbeat gets a little faster; you swore you read the letter correctly. You look at Mammon hopefully, avoiding looking at the path behind you; which was starting to look awfully short. “I thought we were getting back after Lucifer goes out tonight.”

Mammon raises an eyebrow. “Ya wanna stay that long? It’s dangerous out. It’s safer with Lucifer around. ” He protests worriedly - but catches himself quickly. “W-Well. Not that I can’t protect ya… But everyone’s at home, too! The more people around, the better the protectin'!”

“Mammon -”

“Mammon is probably right, MC." Suddenly, you hear a voice behind you. "Though, I admit - I hadn't thought about that when I wrote the letter requesting your visit.”

The two of you jump. You and Mammon immediately find each others’ hands, and whip around to face the source of the voice. Mammon is already stepping forward, stretching his arm in front of you protectively... when he sees who it is.

“Lord… Geez, Lord Diavolo. Barbatos.” He nervously chuckles, stepping back. “We were literally just about to knock. Warn a guy next time, why don’t’cha?”

“No worries, Mammon. Sorry for startling you.” Diavolo offers apologetically. He nods in acknowledgement to you. “Hello there, MC. Lucifer may worry too much if he doesn’t see you before leaving the House, so it may be best for him to see you’re safe and sound, first.”

You look up slowly at the Crown Prince of the Devildom. The prince’s demon butler stands just behind his liege, almost blending into the shadows. They look so… tall. So towering. You don’t register the words that come out of your mouth.

“Oh, u-uh. Okay, then. I’ll help with some RAD event planning, then leave. early”

Mammon gives you a look, shuffling closer and bumping his shoulder into yours, again. “Oi, human, are you sure? I thought earlier you said -”

“I’ll do what Lord Diavolo, said. It’s probably for a reason.” You reply nonchalantly as Barbatos steps forward and unlocks the front door. You can see the hallway as it creaks open and it’s dark. It reminds you of a room you had woken up in when you were pulled from your home with no warning. It reminds you of winding stairs that had lead up to an attic, with a shadowy figure waiting behind a locked door. It was the home of two people who, try as you might, you could never, ever say no to.

Was it fear? You didn’t think so, you could talk to them pretty easily. Agree with them, easily.

Was it hatred? Not that either. You knew Mammon appreciates them for their part in saving you, so you guess you do, too.

You think of the phantom pain from earlier, then think that the darkness of the castle hallway looks a lot more inviting than dwelling on painful memories and difficult questions. So you let your feet follow Diavolo and Barbatos into the castle, laughing when Diavolo fondly tussles Mammon’s hair and enthusiastically piping up with ideas when Barbatos lists off the upcoming events to be held by the student council at RAD.

Mammon does hang back a little at first, though; wondering why you disapproved of his idea when he said it - but then agreed so readily when Diavolo did. But Diavolo did help you with the whole Belphie situation. And he was grateful Diavolo had you brought to the Devildom at all. So he follows you and thinks nothing of it.

And you follow Barbatos and Diavolo. Listening to their every word, like it was instinct. Like you didn’t really have a choice. Just like you didn't have when they had saved you.

Just like you had no choice when they had first brought you here.

(first chapter of the blog's very first series! this was pretty interesting and challenging to write as i really didn't want anything sad or angsty; just the same tone as my other slice-of-life stuff but with little pangs of hurt from the habits that the characters pick up after the belphie incident. i'd like to think that mc and the obm cast actually do recover pretty quickly from lesson 16, but not for the reason of forgiving each other easily, which i'll get to in later chapters. in this case, mc gets along well with dia and barb out of trust for them saving them, but also because they've always taken the reigns on their fate anyway.)

[fever-project]

I’m not DEAD, Daniel (2904 words) by FeverProject Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, Danny Phantom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Wild (Linked Universe) Characters: Danny Fenton, Wild (Linked Universe), the rest of the LU gang are also there but they aren’t important Additional Tags: This isn’t crack but it sure is silly, very much so for me, Ghost King Danny Fenton, Tired Danny Fenton, Wild (Linked Universe) is a Little Shit, might be ooc hopefully not, Misunderstandings, just a little bit Summary: DPxLU crossover because I couldn’t help myself. Surprised I didn’t do this earlier considering gestures at my everything Wild has an encounter with the Ghost King. It is definitely an experience.

Uhhh fanfic, yeah. I’m going to explode. Art

Enjoy 👍

▼

Wild was bored. Which wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, but it was one that he hated. It was night time now and he was supposed to be asleep, just like everybody else in the inn. But he wasn’t like everybody else, he already slept for 100 years straight, sleeping was only useful to him if and when he wanted to be more healthy. And sleeping every night was generally considered to be healthy, but Wild didn’t care, he needed to move.

Out the window he went, quiet as a mouse. Hopefully no one would notice he was gone, and that he would be back before morning came. But there was an entire forest nearby to explore, and he felt like he could-no, should explore to his heart’s content. The wilderness called to him, beckoned him in. That’s what he kept repeating to himself in his mind anyway, as a way to reassure himself, that as a hero who had saved Hyrule, sneaking out at night and potentially worrying the other heroes wouldn’t be a stupid thing to do. Zelda would’ve thought otherwise, and he knew that, but tried not to think about it too much.

The forest was mostly quiet, save for things like the chirping of birds and crickets. The faint rustling of trees was like music to his ears. There was a light breeze, which felt nice against his face as he ventured further into the forest. He tried his best to walk in as straight of a line as he could, to more easily find his way back. He really wished his Sheikah Slate worked properly in this time, maps made everything much easier. But then he would have to go searching for those towers, and while as fun as they were to activate, took up far too much time, much more than he and his group were currently willing to spare.

Wild was suddenly on edge. That odd shapeshifting, Lizalfos-looking, portal opening thing was still out there. Not to mention the black-blooded monsters that thing infected. Wild sighed as walked, now paranoid and frustrated. After a few moments of that, he finally gained enough brain cells to figure out that he should probably head back. With another sigh, which was more of a groan, he spun on his heel, turning around to make his way back to the inn.

Soon enough, something in the air…shifted, he couldn’t tell what. An oddly familiar yet unnatural feeling enveloped his senses as the sky started to turn into an odd shade of pinkish purple. The few clouds up in the sky, only a slightly lighter shade than the sky itself, swirled around above him, as the space in front of him split. Wild felt his heart drop and his breath leave his body as the rift continued to grow. Green glowing light bleed out from it, lighting up the trees and grass and him. Something was happening, something bad, and it was targeting him. He stumbled back, he had to, he had to get away and yet. And yet. It was calling to him. It was scaring him, the world behind the rift hated and loved him all the same.

Wild had to escape.

Wild tried to breathe, in and out, slowly, calmly, he looked for a way out. Trees, there were only trees and more trees and bushes and grass and even more trees-slowly, in and out, his breathing, his breath. He was alive, and he was going to make sure he would stay that way, bright green portal notwithstanding. The portal was growing bigger, quickly, but not as quick as Wild’s mind was when it was panicking. Maybe that meant that panicking was a good thing. Wild almost stopped panicking completely once he realized how stupid that thought sounded. His panic swiftly returned when a white boot stepped out of the portal. When matching white gloves also came out, Wild went to get out his sword and shield, fumbling with his slate as the person emerged from the rift, it closing behind them soon after.

“Excuse me?” The person asked, their words 

echoing, despite the conditions for that to logically happen simply not existing here. Wild stiffened, having only gotten his sword out. But he knew deep within his soul that it wouldn’t be very effective against the higher being standing before him. Yet his grip tightened despite that. He wouldn’t run away, not now, he would try his best to fight this being off if he had to. And if that failed, he would retreat, tactically.

The being was dressed in an odd black and white outfit, having tan skin and white hair. Their bright green eyes, glowing body, and their crown that was literally on fire were very clear signs that this person wasn’t anything he’s seen before. Not to mention the hovering. And the portal they just came out of. And the weird voice-and Wild needed to start focusing on the situation at hand.

The being raised their hands up defensively, “Hey, put down the sword, I’m not looking for a fight,” they said, “I’m just. Looking for someone, yeah.”

“Uh huh,” Wild dumbly nodded, keeping his eyes on them.

“Right, okay, let me just-“ they looked around, suspicious at their surroundings, “-okay, don’t tell anyone you saw me, or that you saw this. Actually, it doesn’t matter, forget what I just said.”

Wild nodded again, watching as a ring of light came out of their waist, enveloping them as they donned a more hylian appearance. They had even odder clothes on in this form, baggy and worn. Their skin was paler and their hair was pitch black. They looked like death in the form of a teenage boy.

“Are you Death?” Wild asked blatantly. Listen, he was curious, he need to know this. The being raised an eyebrow at him, confusion evident on his face. “Like,” Wild scrambled to rationalize his less than rational thought process, “I don’t know, you seem scary? And corpse-like? Are you dead? Am I dead-well, no, I can’t be dead, that would be silly, ha. But are you?”

“Well I am the Ghost King, king of ghosts,” they said plainly, with a shrug, “Name’s Danny, Danny Phantom, and that’s really all you know about that. Listen-“

“Aren’t you like, twelve?” Wild knew they probably weren’t twelve, but this ‘Ghost King’ guy looked pretty young.

“What? No! I’m not twelve, I’m like-“ they pouted, like a twelve year old, snapping their fingers in thought, “older than you!”

“Oh yeah, I’m-“ Wild stopped, wondering if it would be smart to tell the Ghost King that he’s technically one hundred and seventeen years old. “I am at least seventeen! And I look like it as well.”

“You’re the same height as me.”

Wild looked at the ghost, glared at them, walking a bit closer to them. He placed his hand on top of his head and moved it forward, towards the Ghost King’s head. His hand brushed against their hair, but it clearly didn’t reach the top of their head. Wild grinned, well, wildly at the sight of being taller than them. They looked unimpressed.

“You’re the one acting like a twelve year old you know,” Danny scoffed, pouting.

“Says the pouter.”

“Look, can you just help me find this guy, since you’ve clearly calmed down now.”

“And why should I?”

“I’ll make your afterlife terrible otherwise.”

“Fine, I’ll help, gosh,” Wild was probably going to help anyways, he liked helping people. He just wanted to be annoying. “So, who and why?”

“Great! So, I’m looking for this guy named Link,” oh no, “Clockwork-he’s a time ghost, don’t worry about him-told me that he was hoping around other times with other guys also named Link.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well-okay, you’re annoying so I’m just going to ignore that-“

“Time isn’t real.”

The two stared at each other, and Wild both wanted to punch himself in the face, and thought he was the funniest man alive. Danny seemed to think the same way too, with their bewildered expression suddenly turned into one holding back a lot of laughter.

“Al-alright, that was good I’ll give you that,” they chuckled, “Anyways, I’m looking for this specific Link because they’re supposed to dead, and I’m supposed to like-do something about that. I think I have a picture of this guy that Clockwork gave me, hold on.” They stuffed their hand through their goddess forsaken chest, and rummaged around like their own body was a mere storage container. Wild was instantly jealous of them. Sure he had his Sheikah Slate, but it wasn’t a part of his body.

Wait, Danny had a picture of him. Oh no, they were going to kill him. He didn’t need them to say word for word that they were going to kill him, but Wild didn’t know what else they could do to him. He needed to be on his toes and hone his quick reflexes in order to survive this ordeal.

“Annnd-nope, that’s my thermos-here it is!” They pulled out a piece of folded paper, and just as they started to unfold it, Wild snatched it from their hand and shoved it into his mouth.

“Wha-WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!” Danny shrieked, hands on the side of his head, horrified.

“‘Cause,” Wild responded in a muffled voice, chewing the paper. Tasted inky.

“Okay, you are definitely the weirdest person I’ve ever met, an I know a ghost who whole personality is boxes, just boxes. Actually, I don’t think he’s that weird compared to some other fruitloops I know of-but that doesn’t matter, spit that out!”

“No.”

“You are acting like a twelve year old-no, even twelve year olds wouldn’t do this, you’re five.”

Wild gasped, photo smushed to the side of his mouth, in between his cheek and teeth so it wouldn’t fall out.

“You’re just mad I’m right.”

“Nah uh!”

“Then how about you spit that out, like a normal, seventeen-you’re seventeen right?” Wild nodded, “Right, like a normal seventeen year old would, or I’ll phase it out of your mouth by force.” Wild did not like sound of that. So he spit out the photo, the slobbery mess falling onto the grass. Even Wild was grossed out by what he had done. Danny clearly was.

“You’re going to have to unfold that yourself, I’m not touching that,” Danny looked sick.

“Yeah, that’s fair, I’ll do that,” why wasn’t the paper metal, then he could use his Sheikah Slate to pick it up. Good thing he had some spare gloves stored in it, so it was fine, it’s fine. He started to unfold the paper, Danny peering over his shoulder, both with matching disgusted expressions. Wild was right about the contents of the drawing. His face, blast scars and all, was right there. Wild looked at Danny. Danny looked at him. Wild wanted to punch them in face and run off, but they are a ghost. But Wild still slowly raised his free hand into a fist, retaining eye contact.

Danny began to speak, “So-“ Wild swiftly punched them in their face, and skittered backwards, trying to look for a way back to the inn safely. The ghost had stumbled back, clutching their face in pain.

“Huh, so you can punch ghosts,” Wild noted.

“You can definitely punch this ghost,” Danny rubbed their hurt nose, “Didn’t even get me a chance to speak.”

“Please don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, that’s not what I’m here for.”

“Oh.”

“Bet you feel stupid now, don’t ya?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Danny sighs, pinching their nose, not in pain this time, but annoyance. “So,” they started again, “what I’m trying to do is get you on the ‘Supposed to be Dead but Came Back Anyways’ census. Basically, the name’s a work in progress.”

“And…I’m supposed to do something about it?”

“Kinda? Look, just sign here, and I’ll get out of your hair.” They pulled out another piece of paper out of their chest, with already had a few other names on it in neat little boxes. Wild couldn’t read any of those names, but Danny probably could.

Wild’s face scrunched up, trying to think about what he should do next. They hadn’t really explained their reasoning for any of this, so he still didn’t trust them too much. Maybe this was some elaborate ruse to kill him.

“Will me signing this ‘census’ give me any benefits-will it give you any benefits?” Wild pointed accusingly at Danny.

“Well, are you dead?”

Wild groaned, “I’m not DEAD Daniel,” Wild threw his hands into the air in frustration, “Just use your stupid ghost words to explain to me what I need to do and why.”

“Okay,” Danny squeaked out, “But first off, name’s just Danny.”

“Uh huh.”

“And secondly, I’m doing this because there’s a bunch of ghost legal jargon where your name was already listed on both the ‘dead,’ and then also the ‘not dead’ list after you came back to life. You signing this will help fix that.”

“…Aren’t I time traveling right now?”

“Yes, but it’s still good to note down who had came back to life. Please just make my life easier, this is themost stress inducing part of my job I’ve ever done.”

Wild was starting to feel a bit bad now. So now, with a better understanding of the situation, he took the paper from Danny’s hands.

“Here’s a pen to write with,” Danny gave him a pen from their chest.

“Can all ghosts store stuff in their bodies?” Wild asked as he wrote down his name in the next free box, adding on his title of ‘Hero of the Wild’ in the same box, just to specify things.

“No, but I sure can,” they said with a big smile.

“That’s so cool.”

“I know.”

The two laughed a bit as Wild returned the paper and pen to Danny.

“Well, sorry for not explaining my motivations fully, I’m a bit…tired, ha ha,” Danny rubbed the back of their neck, clearly embarrassed.

“Yeah. Sorry for punching you.”

“Now I’m going to go take a nap. Or sleep for once.” A ring of light enveloped Danny yet again, returning him to his more ghostly form. Then he turned around and held out his hand, before cutting the space there, opening the bright green portal.

“See you in the Ghost Zone, Link! Eventually!” They waved as they stepped into the rift.

Wild waved back, “That sounds pretty ominous, but okay!” Danny laughed at that as he went all the way through, the portal closing soon after. Now Wild was left all alone in the woods.

He needed to get back to the inn.

It took him some time, but he eventually found his way back to the inn. In through the window, as quiet as a ghost, he was back in his room. He flopped down onto his bed, mentally exhausted. He would’ve rather been bored than have had dealt with…whatever that was. Not really, but Wild was certainly ready to go to sleep now, and pray that he wouldn’t have to meet that Ghost King ever again. Not because he was scared, but because he was a bit embarrassed about what happened. He acted a bit stupid there. But none of that mattered now. All that Wild had to do now, was to sleep.

ー

“Has anyone seen the champion yet?” Time asked, looking over the group that were all hanging around the inn’s dining room.

“Nope,” Warriors said with a pop, “He’s likely still asleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” Wind whined, “Captain, do you know how to cook?”

“I know how to make things edible and nutritious,” Wars plainly answered, receiving a few groans from various Links.

“We could just have the food they serve here,” Twilight suggested.

“Champ’s better,” Four retorted.

“How about we all wait a bit longer,” Time said, “It hasn’t even been half an hour since we woke up after all.”

They all muttered their agreements, and choose to occupy themselves with taking count of their resources for the time being. A few more minutes passed before Legend noticed something.

“Hey guys, I think I see the champ coming down right now,” Legend pointed at the staircase, and the other heroes scrambled to see their resident chef stumbling down the stairs.

“Are you doing alright?” Hyrule asked.

“You seem exhausted,” Sky added.

“Ye-yeah,” Wild yawned, stretching his arms, “Ghost problems and all that stuff.” He set out to make some food for his companions, who were looking at him with confusion and concern.

“Ghost problems?” A few of them asked at once.

“Is this place haunted?” Wind looked around with an excited grin on his face.

“Nope, but I sure got haunted in the woods out there,” Wild waved in the vague direction of where the forest was, “Now I’m going to make something to eat, want some?”

Of course they wanted some, food was important. They continued to ask questions about the ghost, but Wild didn’t answer, he didn’t feel like it. Maybe in like, two days he would. But for now, he just wanted to eat some Vegetable Risotto, maybe with a few Endura Carrots thrown in as well. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to deal with that Ghost King again anytime soon. At least, hopefully not before this time traveling adventure ends.

[hiramaris]

Kiss it Off Me

CHAPTER 8

Chapter Summary:

Yeah, she might die a happy woman right here, but if Yoba were kind enough, she hoped she'd live long enough to see those smiles.

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: none

Notes: I know, I know it's late again. I'm really sorry, my loves. It's just that life hasn't been giving me a break already. Hope you enjoy this one! I know I've been taking my sweet time to this fic at a very slow pace but I just really want to take my time to lay out our characters, especially my wife. I hope you weren't bothered with it but I promise you, all this waiting will be worth it ;)

Spring 8

It was a warm, sunny Tuesday afternoon. Being spring, the afternoon sun did nothing to burn her skin, and the post-winter air combined with the fresh spring breeze provided a wonderful cooling effect on her exposed skin that wasn't covered by her blue tank top.

It was really a great idea to wear her hair up today, allowing her to fully enjoy the refreshing air.

Although there wasn't anything particularly picturesque about hanging out at the playground, it offered Haley a rare moment of solitude away from the crowd.

In her high school days, she would have basked in the attention people gave her.

Back then, being in the spotlight was exhilarating. However, after her peak during college, she found that she didn't like it as much. For one, popularity didn't help her grades, and secondly, being an 'It' girl didn't matter anymore—not when everyone was scrambling to pass their exams.

But now, here in Pelican Town, being popular just meant being in the center of gossip. The less attention she got, the better.

She preferred these quiet moments, where she could be herself without the prying eyes and whispers. The playground, with its empty swings and silent slides, provided the perfect escape from the pressures of scrutinizing gaze from townspeople who were no better than her either.

"Uh, Haley?"

Haley froze at the sound of a familiar voice, the smell of flowers and dirt filling her nostrils. She turned slowly, her heart skipping a beat.

"Oh..." she said, startled. "Hi, there..."

She wasn't expecting to see you so soon after that whole ordeal (Chapter 3, Spring 7). She might have invited you for breakfast out of goodwill and to make up for her rude behavior, but she kind of half-expected you to chicken out and possibly (hopefully) have the presence of mind to avoid her or something because, for the love of Yoba, your presence is becoming too much for her.

You’re like a pebble suddenly thrown into a pond, causing ripples in what was once stagnant. Haley couldn't quite figure out why you had such an effect on her.

You were speaking, talking about what seemed to be a hair tie but Haley's mind was buzzing elsewhere to actually understand you.

Her eyes briefly scanned you. You wore your typical green overalls, and even with a bit of dirt and grass clinging to your clothes, you still managed to look pretty good. The earthy tones seemed to suit you, giving you a rugged, outdoorsy vibe that was oddly attractive.

Surprisingly, your scent wasn't as pungent as Haley expected it to be. In fact, there was a hint of something pleasant mixed in with the earthy aroma, perhaps a subtle whiff of fresh hay or a trace of wildflowers. She couldn't really tell.

Her attention drifted almost inadvertently to your mouth. Slightly chapped, but full pink lips. Wait, what?

Eyes widening by a slight fraction, she immediately darted her eyes elsewhere, making her spot a hair tie and a handful of daffodils in your hand.

Then her eyes spotted Demetrius walking from where you both stood. Haley's mind quickly realized that you were planning to give her another gift this week, and while there's nothing wrong with daffodils (she likes them), you only give them to her when no one is around.

But now, in the presence of Demetrius, who will probably tell Robin, who will likely tell all her Yoga club members, who will surely tell the whole town that you have given her flowers!

While it shouldn't be a big deal, she has lived in this valley long enough that the rumor mill tends to exaggerate things. And Haley doesn't want to get caught in the middle of this.

As you continued speaking, she made a split-second decision to interject, surprising even herself.

"Uhm, how do I say this..." she began, her voice wavering slightly. "I appreciate your gifts and such. But please don't get the wrong ideas. It's not like a little flower will make us besties or anything, you know."

Her pretty mouth is probably the foulest thing ever created, but she couldn't really stop herself from saying the awful things in this world even if her life depended on it. It was as if her mouth had a mind of its own, blurting out things she'd later regret.

Fortunately, you didn't appear offended; rather, you seemed both confused and amused by Haley's abrupt interruption.

"Uhm, I was just asking if this is your hair tie," you said as you handed her the item.

"Oh!" Haley's voice held a note of embarrassment as she accepted the tie from your outstretched hand, her cheeks likely flushed with a deep shade of pink. "I didn't even notice it was missing..."

Your lips quirked up slightly at the sight of her flustered state. "You were saying..?"

Haley was certain you were teasing her, and she would have half a mind to wipe the adorable smirk off your face if she weren't so embarrassed herself.

"Sorry for jumping to conclusions. I was just..." She fidgeted uncomfortably, unable to find the right words. "Well, nevermind."

"Hey, you weren't even wrong. These are actually for you." You presented her with the daffodils before Haley could respond. "And I'm not expecting you to be friends with me just because I give you flowers, you know?"

"Then what else were you expecting?" That question should have sounded so harsh if Haley weren't so busy burying her nose in them to hide her flustered expression.

"Ever heard of giving a pretty flower to a pretty lady?"

She could have sworn she heard Demetrius snort back a laugh.

Haley couldn't help but sigh, but a smirk tugged at her lips at your poor attempt at charming her.

Rumors be damned. These flowers smelled good.

****

Summer 12

"Yoba..." she muttered under her breath, huffing as she finally managed to lift all her shopping bags off the bus. The driver, thankfully, was patient enough to wait as she struggled with her haul.

Some guy had even offered to help her, but Haley shot him a look that could kill, silently telling him to respectfully fuck off. She might have accepted his help if he hadn't been staring at her tits throughout the whole ride and being generally a creep altogether.

There was no way she was letting that perv touch any of her stuff.

The only problem now is how in Yoba's name she's going to lift all these shopping bags back to her house.

"Now there's the pretty face I hadn't seen all day."

Haley immediately perked up at the sound of your voice, her breath hitching as she caught sight of you approaching her.

Your hair was in a loose bun today, with stray strands framing your face in that imperfectly perfect way, it looked so endearing.

The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow, creating an ethereal aura around you as you stepped closer. The sunlight highlighted the gentle slope of your button nose and the soft curve of your lips, naturally tinted with a delicate shade of pink. Your tan skin seemed to radiate warmth, making Haley momentarily forget to breathe.

The sight of you, dressed in a sleek black leather jacket over a fitted white shirt, paired with jeans that hugged your figure just right, only intensified the fluttering in Haley's stomach.

Despite her best efforts to hide it, a flush spread across her cheeks as she took in your appearance.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, attempting to sound casual but failing miserably. The nervousness in her voice was unmistakable.

"Oh, I was about to take a ride to Calico," you replied with a casual shrug, causing Haley's eyes to wander toward the sword strapped behind your broad shoulders. "I've heard there's a cavern there worth exploring."

"To mine?" She couldn't help but make a face. "At this hour?"

You barked out a laugh, the sound hearty and genuine. "Don't worry," you said, a reassuring glint in your eyes. "I'm just going to check the area. My weapons aren't strong enough to take on the monsters in there yet."

"Or better yet, stick to the usual farming and foraging, which is much safer," she suggested, trying to mask her concern with a light tone.

"I don't think so, Hay." You reached out and pinched her nose playfully, earning a mock scowl from her. "Anyway, you need help with the bags?"

She crossed her arms, her stubbornness making its appearance once again. "I think I can handle them myself. Give me some credit."

"Nope." With a chuckle, you swooped in to grab all the shopping bags from the ground, ignoring Haley's protest. "You've been wearing those heels the whole day. They must have been killing your feet right now."

That made Haley pause, her defiance wavering. "B-but—"

"I know you're capable of handling them yourself," you continued, adjusting the bags with ease. "But letting your arms rest for a couple of minutes wouldn't hurt, right?"

Haley sighed, her resolve softening. "At least give me the other bags," she insisted, her cheeks growing warmer by the second.

She wasn't at all foreign to your chivalrous tendencies, but she's still not used to the feeling. She also knew you weren't struggling, she just couldn't shake the guilt of letting you shoulder all the bags after doing such heavy chores on the farm.

But you were stubborn as a mule. When Haley attempted to take some of the bags from you, you shook your head with a playful grin, transferring all the bags to one hand and extending your free hand toward her. "Tell you what, I'll carry the bags, and you can just walk beside me. Deal?"

"B-but I thought you were going to Calico?"

"That could wait," you answered simply, hand still extended, waiting expectantly.

Reluctantly, Haley took your hand, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. "Fine," she muttered, her cheeks flushing as she glanced away. "But only because my feet are killing me."

You gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "That's the spirit!." You beamed at her, oblivious to Haley's heart pounding hard against her chest. "Let's get you home."

Haley usually kept her cool around you, but feeling your calloused palm against her soft hand stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within her.

She'd be a liar if she denied that there are certain nights that she wonders what it would feel like for your hand to intertwine with hers, and it felt like nothing compared to actually feeling it for the first time.

Despite the roughness of your palm and fingertips, it only added to the warmth she was feeling. They were also a bit bigger compared to Haley's, making your hands almost fully encapsulate her whole hand, almost protectively.

She thought she'd dislike the feeling. Strangely, though, it only made her feel secure. They were the hands of a hard worker, after all.

As you walked through town together, she could see the prying eyes of Jodi and Caroline. She sensed their whispers, undoubtedly exchanging her name and yours.

Surprisingly, this time, Haley didn't seem to mind.

Being called 'yours', even in hushed whispers and rumors, didn't seem so bad now.

****

Summer 13

Dear Miss Carter,

Thank you for expressing interest in our modeling opportunity. After careful consideration, we regret to inform you that we have decided to pursue a different direction for the campaign. While we appreciate your enthusiasm, we believe this decision aligns best with our project goals. We hope to collaborate on future endeavors.

Best regards,

Victoria Bloom

Stardew Valley Gazette

Haley couldn't bring herself to read the letter in its entirety. A single glance was enough to confirm her fears—it was a flat-out rejection.

The sting of disappointment was immediate, sharp, and disheartening.

Her hopes had been high this time, not just because she thought she was beautiful enough, but because she believed in her own talent and passion. She loved photography, had an eye for detail, and knew what made a model truly shine in a photograph.

This was one step closer to her dream—her chance to prove she was more than just a pretty face, designer clothes, and expensive make-up.

This is where she truly shines. Or at least that's what she thought.

But maybe she had become too complacent, thinking her appearance alone would open doors for her.

Seeing the words "We regret to inform you..." felt like a punch to the gut. Doubt began to creep in, whispering that perhaps she wasn't as good as she thought. Maybe the others were right after all.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror felt like salt being rubbed into her wounds. This face, this body... they were all she had. And even those seemed to have failed her.

How on earth was she going to break this news to you? You had been the first to support her when she shared her desire to apply for the position. You believed in her, encouraged her, and told her she had what it took. The thought of seeing the disappointment in your eyes was almost unbearable.

Haley was used to feeling disappointed in herself. She had faced setbacks before, but this felt different. This felt like a failure that might change how you saw her, and that was a bitter pill she wasn't ready to swallow yet.

The fear of letting you down, of not living up to the potential you saw in her, weighed heavily on her heart.

She sniffled, regretting how eagerly she had opened the letter. Now she had to face Alex and celebrate his birthday, looking like she had been crying for hours. Her mascara was smudged, leaving dark streaks down her cheeks, and her eyes were puffy and red from crying.

While she may have to put on her mask, pretend everything's okay, she knew that you and Alex could easily see through her facade no matter how hard she tried to put on a brave face.

It will still ruin the spirit of the party.

Maybe she should consider not going.

But Alex would be upset with her.

Or, either that, he'll physically drag her to the party himself.

Both scenarios felt like disasters.

She let out a harsh breath. Attending was the only option.

She began to retouch her makeup, particularly the parts that had smudged because of her tears, but it was a difficult task with the tears continuously pouring down her cheeks. Her hands trembled as she tried to fix the damage but she didn't dare stop.

She had to look perfect.

Fake it until you make it.

Come on...

A sob couldn't help but escape from her lips.

Fuck.

"Haley." A pair of warm, rough hands take hold of her own, stopping her from smudging her makeup even further. "Haley, come on. Stop."

"Huh..?" Her voice hitched as she saw you tower over her. Her big, baby-blue eyes, filled with unshed tears, met yours.

Oh, no....

You can't see her like this.

"What's wrong?" you began to question, keeping a firm grip on her hands but not too tight to hurt her.

Haley only shook her head. You can't see me like this.

As you lifted her chin up to face you, forcing Haley to meet your gaze, her eyes still glistening with tears, you noticed a makeup wipe lying nearby. With a quick yet gentle movement, you reached behind her back and snatched it up.

"I'd rather fight a whole swarm of skeletons than see you like this," you murmured as you gingerly wiped mascara stains from her cheeks with such gentleness, leaving nothing but her smooth, rosy skin. "What's wrong, Haley? Tell me, please."

She should just push you away. Tell you to leave her alone.

But she couldn't. Not when you're looking at her like that.

Like she's worth of so much more.

And just like that, Haley's resolve crumbled. She had been trying so hard to keep it together, to be strong, but your kindness broke through her defenses. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she tried to find the words.

"I... I got rejected," she finally managed to say, her voice shaking. "I really thought I'd get that job. Finally prove I'm more than just a dumb blonde from Pelican Town. But now... I feel like such a failure."

"You know that's not true."

"I keep trying my best, Y/n..." Her lips quivered and you were quick to caress her cheeks. "But it feels like I'm getting nowhere."

You squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Haley, you're not a failure. You put yourself out there and took a risk. That's something to be proud of."

"But what if I'm just not good enough?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "What if I'll never be good enough?"

"Hey, hey... none of that. You are more than good enough," you assured her, gently cupping her cheeks before pressing a chaste kiss on her forehead. "One rejection doesn't define you or your worth. And it certainly doesn't change how I see you."

Haley sniffled again, trying to believe your words. "You're not bullshitting me, are you? Because I'm not in the mood to bake for you right now, you know?"

"I would never." You chuckled, your laughter infectious as Haley joined in. "Plus, it's their loss, you know? Only idiots would turn down a spectacular photographer AND model."

"Now I know you're definitely just kissing my ass," Haley snorted, lightly tapping your shoulder. As if to further tease her, your eyes playfully drifted downward, making it Haley's turn to cup your cheeks, unable to stop herself from giggling. "Eyes up here, miss."

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," you retorted with a playful smirk, your eyes meeting hers with a twinkle of mischief.

Haley's laughter subsided, replaced by a soft, appreciative smile.

"Thank you, Y/n..." Her eyes are now sparkling with adoration instead of tears. The hands cupping your cheeks slid around your neck, drawing you closer. "You always know what to say to make me feel better."

Closeness that was once awkward and forced...

What was once a heart pounding like a drum in her chest, fast and hot in an uneven rhythm...

Is now a heart steadily beating.

This closeness is calm and silent.

And if she were to die today in this spot with your arms around her, then Haley would die a happy woman.

"Keeping you happy is a responsibility I'd happily taken upon myself," you said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead once again, and Haley couldn't help but close her eyes this time, unable to suppress her own smile. "Now, let's fix your makeup," you added with a small smile, reaching for the makeup wipe again. "And then we'll go to Alex's party together. We'll get through this, one step at a time."

Haley nodded, a genuine smile tugging at her lips. Yeah, she might die a happy woman right here, but if Yoba were kind enough, she hoped she'd live long enough to see those smiles.

****

Summer 17

Click. Click.

Haley sighed as she looked through her camera's viewfinder.

"Just how many variations of the same shot can I take?" she muttered, exhaling another sigh.

After her sudden show of vulnerability to you, Haley suddenly got this urge to take pictures once again. While she may have failed to get that position as a model, that doesn't mean she failed as a photographer.

But looking at the flat, uninspired pictures she'd been taking for almost an hour now, she was starting to think otherwise.

The view here was spectacular, sure, but she’d been photographing this same spot by the lake for years now.

She needed something new. Something more alive.

Haley lowered her camera and gazed around, searching for a fresh perspective. The sun was up and about, casting a golden glow on the water and surrounding trees. It was beautiful–majestic even, if she could dare to say, but still... it wasn't enough.

It felt soulless. Bland.

Chop. Chop.

"That again." Haley couldn't help but glare in the direction of the sound, as if her annoyance alone could make it stop.

The incessant noise of wood chopping from the distance was not helping her at all. Whoever was chopping away had been at it for hours already and didn't give the impression of stopping anytime soon.

She tried to refocus, raising her camera again, but her concentration which was already nonexistent to begin with, was now a mere dust taken away by the summer breeze. The rhythmic, relentless chopping seemed to seep into her mind, making it impossible to find the spark she was looking for.

As if this person knew which buttons to push, the sound of a tree crashing to the ground echoed through the air, making a fully formed nerve start to throb on her forehead.

Whoever that idiot was, they were really going to get a piece of her mind. There was a whole damn forest just south of here, so why did they have to do it here?

Yoba forbid if it was Clint. He was really going to get an earful.

Frustrated, she decided to investigate.

Maybe a change of scenery—or at least figuring out what was going on—would help. Haley packed up her camera and headed toward the source of the noise.

As Haley got closer, she stopped when you suddenly emerged from behind a mahogany tree, an axe in hand.

You leaned down to grab a bottle of water beside your rucksack resting against the tree. Haley only realized she was staring when even the droplet of water that missed your mouth began to cascade across your neck down to your already wet tank top, leaving little to no imagination.

Yoba, when did it get so hot?

Probably unable to not notice such a pretty being such as herself on your peripheral, you turned your head to her with that familiar shit-eating grin she had grown to like so much as you closed the cap of your bottle.

"Hey there, pretty lady!" you greeted, slamming your axe on the stump behind you as you walked closer. "I didn't know you were here."

"Hey, yourself," she greeted with a small smile, her initial irritation suddenly evaporated into thin air. "I'm trying to get back on foot with photography and I was kind of distracted with the chopping noise, is all."

"Oh!" You scratched your nape sheepishly. Haley couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight caught the sweat on your skin, the muscles in your arms flexing with each movement. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to distract you."

Oh, you are distracting her alright, but probably for the wrong reasons.

"I just needed some woods so Robin could make some renovations on the cabin. Didn’t think anyone would be around," you went on, seemingly unaware of the effect you had on her. "If you'd like, I can hang with you for a bit. See your progress with your camera."

"Sure," Haley replied distractedly. "Wait, what?"

Before she knew it, you were peering over her shoulder, waiting expectantly for her to show the pictures she just took. The scent of sweat, wood, and flowers filled her nostrils, and Haley couldn't help but feel lightheaded. In a good way, she supposed.

Still, it was too much all at once.

Overwhelmed by the closeness that had been familiar over the months you had spent here, Haley instinctively backed away from you.

"Sorry," you chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck. "I forgot I smell."

"No!" she almost shrieked, her cheeks turning a shade of pink. "It's not that. I just…" she sighed deeply. "I got nothing to show you. All my shots are flat. Almost the same variations of the same scene. I can't put these in my portfolio, Y/n."

You plopped down on the grass, leaning back on your arms as you looked up at her with brilliant eyes. "That can't be true. You love taking pictures of this place."

"I know..." She let out another sigh, gingerly sitting on the grass in front of you. "I used to love this, capturing the beauty in everything. But now, it's like I'm stuck in a loop. There's got to be more to photography than just this."

"I think..." you trailed off, rummaging through your bag and producing a piece of white cloth. You brushed off the grass beside you, clearing away dried leaves and small pebbles before laying the cloth down. "Come sit here first, Haley." You patted the spot next to you.

Haley nodded dumbly, surprised and touched by your thoughtfulness. Did you really made sure she wouldn't sit directly on the grass because you knew how much she disliked getting dirty?

"I was saying," you continued, brushing off a stray piece of dry grass from Haley's skirt before helping her get comfortable beside you, "I think you need to find some new motives to spark your excitement again."

Haley settled next to you, feeling a bit more at ease. "New subjects, huh? Like what?"

You smiled, your eyes twinkling with ideas. "Anything that catches your eye. Maybe try photographing people, events, or even little details you might have overlooked before. Sometimes, a change in perspective is all it takes."

Haley considered your words. "You might be onto something there. I mean, I've been so focused on the same old scenes that I haven't really thought about branching out. It's just..." She looked down at the camera on her lap. "It's hard to break out of my comfort zone, you know? Old habits die hard, I guess."

"How about you take a photo of me chopping woods?" you suggested with a smirk as you helped her up.

"Be my model, you say?" Haley replied, a mischievous glint lighting up her eyes. "That's not a bad idea. You'd actually make a pretty good model if I say so myself."

That wiped the smile right out of your face.

"I was just kidding!"

"Nope." She grinned, even exaggerating the 'p' sound to further tease you. "Get your axe and get to chopping already, miss."

"But I'm as stiff as a board to be your model!" you whined but were already on your way to retrieve your axe.

"Just pretend I'm not here. Be candid."

"It's kind of difficult to ignore your camera's lens," you muttered, gripping the axe.

"Y/n," she called from behind her camera, adjusting the settings to capture the perfect shot. "Remember that photo I gave you last month?"

"Yeah..?"

"It was a good photo, you know?"

"Really?"

"You didn't need to pose at all to look good. Just be yourself." Haley briefly looked up from her camera, meeting your eyes with a soft smile before going back behind her lens. "I like you a lot better that way, anyway."

****

Later that night, she found herself inside her freshly made dark room. Designing this room had been challenging, but nothing was more challenging than sifting through hundreds, maybe thousands, of clothes in her walk-in closet that is now turned into the dark room, and finding some clothes she'd be willing to donate next spring for charity.

She truly loves her clothes and finds them as her way of expressing herself but hoarding them at this rate is alarming. So what better way to make good use of space than for her passion?

Though not completely satisfied with her setup, Haley knew this would have to do for now. Once the rest of the equipment she needed arrived, she'd definitely want you to see her darkroom one day.

With everything developed, she began to scan each photo with keen eyes, ready to pick out the ones that would go into her portfolio. But as she went through them, she realized that had been a mistake.

Her shots were... Impeccable. No surprise there.

And you were surprisingly a good model. Too good, actually.

She stopped on a particular photo, eyes raking towards your exposed stomach when you were about to slam your axe towards a log, arm flexing as you did. You have this fierce expression that's making Haley feel a lot of things one would deem explicit.

She felt her cheeks heat up as she continued to stare at the image, tracing the lines of your muscles with her eyes.

If she were to touch them, would they be hard against her fingertips or smooth and inviting? She was pretty sure that if you pinned her against the wall, she wouldn't budge. Not because she couldn't get past your solid chest, but because she'd probably melt right then and there, too overwhelmed to move.

Realizing she's thirsting over your photo, Haley gently slapped herself out of her trance. She tried to focus on the technical aspects of the photo, but it was no use. The picture was stunning and well—hot, and it's not just because of her photography skills. You were the reason it stood out so much. The way the light caught the sweat on your skin, the determination in your eyes—it all combined to create a powerful image.

She sighed, placing the photo in the "keep" pile. If she was this smitten over a couple of photos, there was no way she was submitting all of them. She liked to think these were for her eyes only, especially if that sultry, almost enticing gaze you were giving in front of the lens was anything to go by.

****

Summer 23

"Okay, Haley you got this. It's just water," she mentally cheered herself. "Every pretty girl must know how to swim on the beach."

It was probably just her screwed reasoning, but it definitely wasn’t because she saw you the other day swimming with Leah like some Olympic swimmer or something.

She's also gonna ignore the part that she avoids swimming on the beach because of some incident involving being taken away by the tide, water choking her lungs and her almost dying.

It wasn’t like that experience had put her off swimming entirely. She still loved the beach. The sun, the sand, the perfect tan it gave her—what's not to love?

But now, standing at the edge of the water, her toes curling into the wet sand, Haley felt the familiar knot of anxiety in her stomach. She took a deep breath, glancing over at the waves lapping gently at the shore.

"Just focus on the sun and the sea breeze," she told herself. "You can do this."

Anyway. It's not so bad if she confronted this... err—setback of her, right?

"Fancy seeing you here, Haley."

Haley whirled around from almost touching the water with her foot. Do you have some superpower in showing up whenever she felt the need to be vulnerable?

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate your presence, but she specifically woke up at the crack of dawn to practice her swimming skills because she knew you'd probably be busy tending to your farm, and most of the folks would still be snoring in their beds.

Well, aside from Elliot of course—knowing him, he was probably up already writing books and wouldn't leave his cabin anytime soon.

"Hi!" she finally greeted after what felt like an eternity of looking at your face. "I didn't expect to see anyone here so early."

"Really? I thought you know me well enough to know that I'm already up by 6 AM." You chuckled, running a hand through your hair. "And since when do you wake up so early? What happened to your beauty sleep?"

"Shut up. I'm just..." she rolled her eyes, stalling. She's not keen to tell you just yet what she's up to. Especially for a ridiculous reason. "I just felt like coming here for some fresh air."

Haley looked so proud of the reason she had come up with but it seemed you weren't buying her excuse.

"You look like you're going for a swim," you observed. Haley could have sworn she saw you checking her out, but it was gone as soon as she blinked. "You look good in blue."

Caught off guard by the compliment, Haley felt her cheeks warm up. "Oh, um, thanks," she mumbled, trying to play it cool.

Ever perceptive, you must have noticed she looked a little off.

You tilted your head, a hint of concern in your eyes. "Everything alright? You seem a bit caught off guard."

She sighed, glancing down at the sand. "Well, I guess I am."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Haley hesitated, weighing her words. "I could, but aren't you going somewhere?"

"I was planning to fish for some crimson fish," you explained, rubbing the back of your neck. "But now that I think about it, I remembered Willy saying there's a specific time for catching it. So, I have time right now."

Haley gave you a hard look. She knew you long enough to know you were bullshitting her. The tips of your ears turning red was a telltale sign she noticed whenever you lied. Which wasn't often, because you couldn't lie convincingly even if your life depended on it.

"Are you sure?" she asked, eyebrow raised. "It sounded important."

"Don't worry about it," you insisted, trying to sound casual.

You lent out a hand and Haley took it without hesitation. For some reason, clasping her hands against yours seemed a normal occurrence now that it seemed weird not to do it.

"Come on, let's sit by the shore. I heard the sunrise during summer looks great."

"Alright." Haley gave a small smile, appreciating the effort you were making to put her at ease. "Let's go."

The two of you walked towards the water's edge, the cool sand squishing beneath your feet. The horizon was starting to glow with the first hints of dawn, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange.

Sitting down, you both stared out at the calming waves. Haley took a deep breath, feeling a little more grounded by the familiar presence next to her.

"So, what's really going on?" you asked, your voice raspy but gentle. It was so soft that if it weren't quiet around them, she wouldn't have heard it. It was as if you were afraid to break the tranquil moment.

It was quiet for a moment. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable or forced by any means. It was calm and warm—feelings you seem to radiate whenever you were around.

After a few moments of finding a comfortable position to sit, Haley's head found its way to rest on your shoulder, and as if on instinct, your hand settled on the small of her back, pulling her closer.

"You know, I was thinking about getting out of my comfort zone," Haley began, staring at the waves.

"What do you mean?" you asked, turning to look at her, your cheek pressing gently against her hair.

"Okay, fine. I'll admit it." She took a deep breath. "I'm scared of swimming in the ocean. Silly, right?"

"I don't think it's silly," you declared, and Haley couldn't help but believe you.

"I read online about confronting your fears and thought I'd give it a shot. But..." She sighed, looking down at her hands. "I couldn't bring myself to do it."

You gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Fears are real. It doesn't matter how it may seem to anyone. The fact you're even trying to face them is a big step already."

"Thanks, Y/n... I just couldn't help but feel like I'm letting myself down, you know?"

"You're not letting yourself down," you reassured her, your voice gentle but firm. "We all have things that scare us, and it's okay to take your time. The important part is that you're here, trying to overcome it. That's something to be proud of."

"Thanks, Y/n," she murmured, her fingers gently squeezing your arm. "It means a lot to hear you say that."

"Anytime," you responded with a chaste kiss against her hair and Haley could feel herself melt on the spot if she could. "Maybe it's about finding the right way to face your fear. How about we do it together?"

"You'd do that?" she leaned back from you with surprise in her eyes.

"Of course. I'd also feel a lot better if you had someone looking out for you."

"Alright... I'll give it another shot. Just... just promise me you'll be there with me?"

"I promise."

****

As you both waded into the water, Haley took a deep breath, focusing on the feel of the cool water against her skin and the soothing rhythm of the waves. She glanced at you, and the sight of your reassuring smile gave her the courage to take another step forward.

"Okay..." she breathed. "I'm in the water."

It felt different from her usual pool experience, with the sand underfoot instead of solid ground, but she was cautious not to let her foot stomp on any sea urchin.

"You're doing good, Haley," you encouraged from behind.

"This... definitely feels different," she admitted, noticing the vastness of the ocean around her.

"But the water feels nice, right?"

She nodded, still unsure what to feel. While the fear of being taken by the tide lingers in the back of her mind, the thought you're just behind her makes her feel safe, even just for a little bit.

Feeling a little brave, she wadded a bit further until the water rose up to her chest. She can feel that familiar pressure in her lungs, and she can feel herself panicking a little, her breath coming in short gasps.

"Is everything alright?" your voice cut through the sound of the waves.

"Could you maybe..." her voice cracked a bit and she couldn't dare herself to turn around and face you, afraid the wave would swallow her whole if she even dared to move. "Can you come a bit closer to me, Y/n? I'm still a bit scared..."

"Come here..." It wasn't long before she felt your familiar arms enveloping her, offering a sense of security she desperately needed. "I got you, see?"

"Thanks…" she murmured, a shiver coursing through her body despite the warmth of your embrace.

"One step at a time."

"One step at a time," she echoed your words, trying to muster some courage. "It's not that bad, right? I mean it's just water."

"Uhuh," you nodded, your breath warm against her ear. "Plus keeping yourself calm is one of the important aspects of swimming. And you know, being aware of the tides so you know when it's okay to take a swim."

"Okay... I'll keep note of that."

****

"Can you believe I modeled in swimsuits once?" Haley suddenly said after allowing herself to be familiar with the water. "This feels a lot different from a photo shoot."

"Even if you don't tell me, I'd assume you had been in one before," you mused as you tucked a stray blonde hair away from her face. "You're more than brave enough than you let on. Doing a photoshoot needs a lot of bravery, too, and— well, confidence. Give yourself some credit."

"You know what? In some ways I did face scarier things, I guess," she admitted with a chuckle. "Like wearing heels on a rocky path for a shoot."

"Hmm, just think about those whenever you feel like you can't do it."

Haley couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at you, her lips curling up in amusement. "You're making it sound like modeling is a big thing and you facing dozens of monsters in a cave like a walk in the park."

"Well, I'd rather take on hundreds of slimes than be a model," you grumbled, a playful scowl on your face. "I'd look silly."

"That's ridiculous, you'd be a great model."

"You're just kissing my ass." With a mischievous grin, you splashed some water on her face, making Haley gasp at your audacity.

"I would never!" she protested, laughing as she wiped the water from her cheeks before retaliating with a splash of her own, catching you off guard.

Oh, it's on.

****

Previous

Next

A/n: this chapter is more like a filler—a glimpse of how Haley and the farmer got closer. I stumbled upon a mod that adds additional heart events for Haley, and I decided to include it. I'm focusing more on exploring Haley's arc, which is why I'm drawing out this fanfic so much. Forgive me; I just couldn't jump ahead to the kissing and whatnot, even though I'm dying to write that scene already.

This is actually a two-part chapter because I think the mod adds about ten heart events, and I had to cut it short since I think this chapter is already lengthy. I also need a couple of hours to rest my eyes. Forgive me for any grammatical errors; I continued writing this after my exams, so my head is a bit foggy at the moment. Love y'all and thank you for your patience.

taglist:

@joordynn

@taliiiaasteria

@iluvwomen01

[leggerefiore]

What would the villains call their beloved? Would they have different nicknames for them in bed?

cw: light sex mentions, mostly fluff, Minors DNI

characters: Lysandre, Maxie, Archie, Cyrus, Volo, Guzma

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ Honestly, he calls you too many affectionate names, ranging from his mother tongue over to whatever language you speak. It almost seems as if he has forgotten your actual name at times. Though, when he does call it out, it probably frightens you a bit. It becomes such a rare occurrence that you expect something bad. Lysandre sees no need to change what he refers to you as in public or not, too. The only time he may drop it all together was for anything related to business.

☕️ He tends to lean towards things like “my love” or “my dear,” but “darling” and even “my angel” when he is feeling oddly emotional. Sycamore gives a laugh at all the endearments that he counts whenever you both visit. It is genuinely loving when coming from him, as he rarely feels so strongly and lovingly towards another person.

☕️ In bed, nothing changes too much. He prefers to lather on affection and love wherever he can. Though, oddly, the frequency in which your actual name is spoken increases in more intimate moments. It seems he finds the use of your actual name something deeper than most of the affectionate terms be usually spills out.

“My love,” Lysandre's deep voice called out to you while you were slipping on your shoes to leave. You were shocked to see him home so early. He rarely came home near the midafternoon, often inundated with work or whatever else came up in his professional life. An arm came around you warmly as he pressed a kiss to your cheek and then to your lips. “Where are you going?” You sighed slightly. No where now, you supposed, while leaning into the warmth of his embrace.

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 He struggles a lot with endearments. It honestly is a bit embarrassing how he feels trying to think of what he could possibly call you. Maxie felt there was no need for such things. Despite that, however, he found himself with a few to use in private with you. In public, he was much too formal to even dare call you anything but your name. He did not wish to seem overly soft. His reputation as the leader of Team Magma was important.

🪨 Though, as soon as you both are alone, a “beloved” escapes him. He prefers more “formal” affectionate terms. “Dearest” and “my love” are also not so uncommon. Yet, sometimes he does drift to something softer, like calling you “Numel.” He always catches himself after that one, gets flustered, and denies that he even said it. It is a real compliment, rest assured, as he finds the pokemon utterly adorable.

🪨 Maxie does not really use different terms during sex. (Though, “Numel” certainly does not make an appearance there.) There is something a little bit funny about his flustered face and moans mixed with the term “beloved” escaping his lips. Since sex falls firmly in his private time with you, there is no reason for his choice of endearments to change, he feels.

You heard the door click open as you laid on the couch, bored. “I'm home, beloved,” Maxie's voice called out as he entered the room. He had been away all day, busy with whatever his group was doing nowadays. You perked up at the sight of him and rushed over immediately. He flinched as you squeezed him into a tight hug, nuzzling into the knit texture of his sweater. He was so warm. “My, what's this?” the Magma leader chuckled. Shifting out of his work mindset, he allowed himself to embrace you in return. He had come to love you greeting him after a long day of work. “I missed you, too,” he sighed and pressed a gentle kiss to your head. When you gazed up at him with lidded eyes and a tired expression, he had to bite back, mumbling out a “Numel.”

🌊Archie🌧

💧 How many marine and pirate terms can this man use to refer to you? It truly is a mystery as to where he finds all of these terms in his head, but you suppose he was nothing if not obsessed with the ocean. Archie honestly prefers endearments to your real name, clearly a sign of his affection if his calling a certain kid scamp was anything to go by. He nearly always refers to you by some pet name or endearment that has crossed.  Worries do cross your mind that he has actually forgotten your name. (You test him to make sure he has not. Archie was extremely confused by this afterward, but he passed it with ease.)

💧 “Luvdisc” is his favourite term to use overall, clearly enchanted by the association with the pokemon to long-lasting relationships. “Treasure” is another favourite, but somehow gets outshone by the fish. There are also a few “darlin's” that come from him when he tries to change up hos dialogue a bit. Maxie gags at his gratuitous use of the terms around him, but everyone else thinks it is pretty run-of-the-mill for Archie. He is just an affectionate guy, so why would that not reflect in what he calls his lover? You certainly do not mind.

💧 Within the confines of sheets, he does tend to lean more towards the use of “treasure.” He feels a bit to overcome to really even say Luvdisc. Besides, you clearly are a treasure, somehow even more precious than his beloved ocean. There may also be a few more easier terms tossed around, like just straight up “love.” His brain power is going elsewhere in those moments, please excuse him. Though, if he ever uses the term love and you are not heading in an intimate direction, rest assured that you are now.

“Luvdisc,” Archie's voice travelled across the beach with a near terrifying volume. You peeked up from your phone as he rushed to your side. His grin was bright and his form as caught in the hot sun beautifully. His favouritism for a certain nickname for you was always apparent. He squeezed you in a tight embrace, even spinning you around for a moment. “Ah, there's my treasure. Thought I'd lost for a moment,” he let out a sigh. You nearly let one out, too. You were just about to call him, but that was clearly unneeded now. A kiss was shared between you both before settling down on the sands to enjoy the afternoon.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ He refuses to use terms of endearment when literally anyone else is around. Cyrus is not one for allowing himself to seem influenced or emotional. While he may love you dearly, there is not a chance he would express that in the sight of other people. It almost becomes expected for your name to called out by the blue-haired man when he wants your attention. It would be a bit depressing if you were not already aware of how restrained he was. There are a few rare moments a more affectionate term slips from him with people around, but that usually is reserved for when he is in distress.

☄️ But, he does allow himself a momentary escape when alone with you. “Beloved” is his go to and typically the only one he ever seems to use. It fits him oddly. Though, he also uses other terms more sparingly. A “dear” and “wife/husband/spouse” are generally used, too. It may seem a bit stiff, especially when paired with how standoffish Cyrus could be, but it was clear from how he unconsciously shifted to them that discreetly showed that he truly cared. No one else gets called by anything but their name by him, after all. You are even allowed to call him whatever you please with people around. His soft spot for you is more than apparent.

☄️ As for in bed… He barely uses different terms. Beloved does seem to be ditched in favour of the convenience that “dear” provides in his stricken state. His brain is not working as he intends it to. He struggles to say a lot during sex usually, anyway, so it is a bit invigorating to hear the affectionate word escape his lips. Though, if he does say your actual name, that either means he is truly overcome with feelings or upset. It is pretty easy to find out which it is.

"Beloved..." Cyrus mumbled out as you nuzzled into his nape. Your arms were tightly around his waist. He had just come home after a few days away due to his plans.

“Beloved…” Cyrus mumbled out as you nuzzled into the nape of his neck. Your arms were tightly around his waist. He had just come home after a few days away due to his work on his plans. You did not say a word as you continued to cling to him. The Galactic Boss knew better than to wonder why you were being so affectionate. Your incomplete spirit begged for you to crave his attention and affection. He sighed. It was not like he could pretend that he was much better. Not when he enjoyed the feeling of your body pressed against his so much. One of his arms came around your waist. “I apologise for being away for so long…” he pressed a chaste kiss to your temple, “Let's enjoy this time we have together.” You finally peered up at him with a loving gaze.

💫Volo📜

⭐️ Truthfully, he uses endearments extremely sparingly. There is something that he finds about referring to other people with a term that shows how much you feel about them very uncomfortable. Though, with you, it is quite unfortunate how easy the terms slip off his tongue. Volo supposes a part of it is how obvious he wants to make your relationship to any observers. He would admit he does have a slight jealous schism internally. Of course, he does it for you, too. The blond is fully aware of how much you enjoy hearing him call you such sweet terms.

⭐️ He usually falls into the camp of things like “love,” “dear,” and “darling.” Traditional time-tested things. There is a certain mocking tone he may take after everything is said and done by calling you a “chosen one.” That falls somewhere between a genuine endearment and him being cruel, however. Most people will also get sick with him referring to you as his partner/girlfriend/boyfriend. It is clear to most people paying attention that it some strange from a claiming on his part. Of course, you can only stare at him in adoration whenever he uses them.

⭐️ Alas, Volo definitely drops a lot of his loving facade in bed. His tone can be that of someone filled completely with love or malice, depending on the situation. The terms are the same, but he may also lean more towards sneering out a “chosen one” to vent out some of his frustrations. Just be happy it is with his dick consensually this time and not trying to have Giratina kill you this time around. He may also use a bit more degrading terms, but telling him off usually makes him stop.

“Oh, if it isn't my love,” Volo's voice was recognisable, but especially so when you two met while you were out doing research tasks. His smile was nothing but friendly as he approached you. “Can I interest you in some more pokeballs?” his tone was teasing now. You sighed as tugged on his bag's strap to pull him down to your height. These random run-ins have become more common since you started dating. It was more than obvious he likely had an eye out for you… And was neglecting his merchant duties once again. You could not complain when he pecked a quick kiss to your lips. It seemed you both would be spending a decent amount of time along together in the wilds of Hisui.

🕶Guzma💀

□ This big, bad boss loves calling you whatever pet name he can think of. He literally probably only says your name if he is asking someone else for you. Guzma just does not really see a point in not doing it. He basically calls everyone by nicknames. Except for Kukui, but he is an exception, not the rule. He does not care about whether it is socially acceptable or not, he just does what he wants and isn't concerned with the looks he gets for saying “babe.”

□ He leans towards more casual, modern terms. “Babe” is one of the bigger ones, but he will occasionally bring out a “cutie” or “sexy.” The latter often gets him a few side eyes. A rarer one that seems to only used when he is certain no one else is around is “love-bug.” You try not to laugh at it because you can tell he is trying his best to combine his love for bug-types with his feelings for you. Though, you saw Plumeria choke out a laugh when she heard him say it to you once. It was a bit funny seeing Guzma say such a thing while trying to keep up his edgy appeal.

□ In bed, he does not really change what he says too much. Cutie may not rear its head, but sexy and babe are certainly a plenty. He may even combine if he feels so inclined. Though, it may also be a product of him losing his mental focus in the throes of passion. Your name is occasionally blurted out within the brain-mush of words, too. He is a bit of a mess, honestly.

“Hey, babe!” Guzma's voice stood out among the crowd of people that had taken over the usually quiet route. Rumours about some rare pokemon apparently drew them in, making it annoying to navigate despite needing to. His hand caught your arm as he pulled you under his own, determined not to get separated again. You heard him mumble something about annoying tourists under his breath as both managed to get out of the crowded place. “What the hell is so great about that many Meowths?” he complained, “If they wanna see a collection, I'd be happy to point them to that Kahuna's house.” You chuckled at the thought. Guzma only pressed you more into his side while walking down the route. It seemed like showing you the Wimpod nest would be on hold for today.

[panda-writes-kpop]

twin flames ~ yours is bright, mine is smoldering - ng. y.

a/n: apologies for the thirteen day wait between the two fics - within that time, I got obsessed with and then finished one route of Fire Emblem: Three Houses (golden deer house my beloved), got sick and had to call off one day of work, had a family member experience a medical emergency, and then had to prepare for another college semester and an internship as well. I'm... tired to say the least. gonna take a few days to mentally regroup and then I'll get to requests and anon asks, I swear. ❤️ also last pirate! aespa fic wooo!! loved writing these four fics so much 🥹

tw: mentions of alcohol, violence, and weapons, but reader doesn't partakes in anything, reader is bad at their job but it's kind of charming, reader's a jailor but one that's actually doing their job of reforming their prisoners

related fics: Oh Captain, My Captain, Second Chances, your home is the sea, my home is you

summary: ningning, the famed mercenary, is caught by winter's pirate crew after a botched attempt on winter's life. after she's caught, she's your prisoner - and you're nothing like she expects.

♡ Masterlist ♡

“Bombs away!”

The sound of revelry, fighting, and pirating comes from the upper deck as you sit, alone, in one of the lower deck cabins. You sigh, fidgeting with the key in your hands, as you admire the empty jail cell across from you.

Being the ship’s only jailor could be considered a lonely, miserable job, but you didn’t see it that way. It wasn’t like you weren’t a fan of your fellow crewmates, but combat was not your strong suit; therefore, your Captain, Winter, had found a suitable job for you.

“I need someone to watch any captives that we take.” She explained as she took you to the lower deck, where the holding cell was.

“And you want me to do this? What if I have to physically restrain them, or if they try to escape-”

“-they’ll be disarmed before they get to you, I’ll make sure of it.” Winter reassures you with a hand on your shoulder. “You belong here, just as much as the rest of my crew. I want to make sure that my crewmates are in suitable positions for their talents. If this doesn’t work out for you, then we’ll look at other options.”

You scoff at the memory, as if any of Winter’s other options were any better - scrubbing the decks and scrounging dinner from food scraps weren’t jobs that you were keen to take.

She was right, however, this position suited you, oddly enough. Most of the prisoners, if you could call them that, weren’t particularly violent. They were resigned to their fates, and you often found yourself trading stories with them once they realized you wouldn’t rip their tongue out for looking at you the wrong way.

Cruelty wasn’t your style, anyway. It might be the way of the pirates, or your Captain at times, but it didn’t have to consume you as it did to some of your other crewmates. Sure, Winter course-corrected when they went too far, but those occasions were few and far between.

Somehow, through meaningless chatter, you managed to convince a few prisoners to join your crew - with your Captain’s permission, of course.

“I knew you were made for this,” Winter offers you a proud smile, “and I knew my plan would work. It was never simply about holding them in a cell, after all.”

“I’m not just a jailer to you, am I?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Nothing would prepare you for the woman who would be carried through your door on this night, after the fighting above you had ceased.

~

“Let me… go!” Ningning weakly cries out as a pirate holds both of her arms behind her back.

She struggles against their iron grip, but they don’t even budge as another pirate ties her hands together with a spare piece of rope.

Think, Ningning, you’ve been in worse binds than this. How can I make it out of this in one piece?

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite rogue mercenary!” Winter says with a bit too much cheerfulness in her voice.

“Minjeong.” Ningning growls as she stares at a plank on the main deck.

I will not give her the satisfaction of seeing me beaten and bruised, within her clutches.

“No one calls me that, not anymore.” Winter shakes her head as she approaches Ningning from the captain’s quarters. “How much did your guild pay you for my head?”

Ningning stays quiet as Winter places her hand on the mercenary’s cheek.

“Don’t touch me!” She yells and thrashes around, but it’s no use.

That pirate must be inhuman, to resist someone of my strength and fighting prowess!

When she tires herself out, Winter roughly grabs Ningning’s chin and forces her to look her in the eyes.

“You’ll talk soon enough, believe me.” Winter smirks to herself. “Take her downstairs to see my friend.”

“You won’t get anything out of me!” Ningning yells as she’s carried away. “I’d rather die than give away my secrets!”

“Death is the easy way out, Yizhuo.” Winter chuckles as Ningning shivers at the mention of her name. “What? You’re not the only one who’s done a bit of digging.”

“I will have your head one day, I swear!” Ningning screams before she’s dragged down to the lower deck.

To meet my torturer, of course.

~

You find yourself nearly falling asleep as a loud knock on your door brings you back to the world of the conscious.

“What is it?” You mumble as you rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“We have a prisoner!”

“Fuck.” You grumble as you quickly open and clean the cell in front of you. “You may enter!”

You nervously stand by the door as two of your crewmates enter with a black-haired woman in their grip. Her hands are tied behind her back, but they’re still holding on to her for dear life.

She must be an assassin or a mercenary of some sort. The crafty type, by the look of her.

The woman looks you in the eyes for a moment, trying to read your emotions and intentions in one go.

Good luck with that.

“You…” She mumbles as the two pirates set her in the cell and close the door behind her.

“Yes, me, that’s who you’re stuck with.” You crack a small joke as you lock the cell door from the outside.

“I could kill you.”

“Let’s hope you don’t, huh?” You smile as the key slips into your pocket. “Oh, and don’t try to escape, this cell was built by our genius Captain.”

“Genius?” The mercenary looks astounded. “She’s a liar, a thief, a murderer-”

“-Everyone’s done those first two things once in their lives, and Winter, to my knowledge, has not murdered anyone that hasn’t tried to kill her first.” You feel the need to defend your Captain, as she would fiercely defend her crew without hesitation. 

The mercenary pauses as an argument dies on her lips – she’d be a hypocrite to argue any further, as someone who has done quite a bit of lying, thieving, and murdering.

As the two of you talk, the two pirates quietly exit the room. You find yourself enjoying the comfortable silence as you look back to your dinner. It hadn’t struck your fancy, especially since the ebb and flow of the ocean waves made you a little nauseous, so you decide to extend an olive branch to the imprisoned woman in front of you.

“Here, take this. It’ll be a long night for the both of us.” You hand her the plate along with a wooden fork and knife (one that couldn’t be used as a lockpick, you and Winter had both tried and failed).

She lets out a dry laugh as she grabs the bars of her cell.

“Why would you do this? Why would you offer me food when I just tried to kill your captain?”

You stand, unwavering, with the same brilliant smile as always.

“Everyone deserves kindness.”

~

Everyone deserves kindness.

Ningning was scared of you. When she looked you in the eyes, she didn’t see the hatred, anger, or disdain that most people held for mercenaries like her; instead, she saw empathy and the smallest shred of curiosity in your eyes.

Curiosity about a killer? Seems ironic.

That curiosity is what gets you killed in her line of work. You stick to what you know, and you get the job done.

Well, curiosity wouldn’t hurt her when she was already in prison, so she decided to indulge her curiosities for one night.

One night to stay here and plan my escape.

What intrigued Ningning the most about you was your behavior as a jailer. You weren’t trying to physically torture her with knives or water, as she was used to, nor were you trying to push her to mental collapse with starvation or a lack of proper rest. 

You, instead, were the least intimidating person she had ever met as you peacefully slept on your cot. She could’ve easily, if she had her knife and a hair pin, picked the lock, sliced your throat open, and then went on her merry way.

But you had the smallest bit of trust in her, enough to give her food when you had just met.

What is wrong with you?

She asks herself about you, as well as her own thoughts.

~

You chuckle as you spot the girl peacefully sleeping on the floor of the cell.

I’d offer her my bed if I was more sure that she wouldn’t kill me.

After a quick midnight nap, you had awoken to your hunger and the curious sight of a sleeping mercenary in front of you.

As to not disturb her, you carefully crawl out of your cot so as to not make a noise. Your feet gently brush against the ground before you fully commit and plant both of your feet down.

A small creak rings out in your cabin, but the mercenary shows no sign of waking up soon.

Good. She’ll need her rest if she’s not used to the sea life.

Someone knocks on your door once, pauses, then knocks three more times in succession.

A light smile appears on your face as you recognize the knocking pattern - a secret code for a friend who liked to visit you on occasion.

One knock, a pause, followed by three more knocks meant “Hello, may I come in?”

You respond with two quick knocks, a pause, then three more knocks: “Yes, you may, but I’m busy tonight.”

One knock. 

“You sure?”

You knock back.

“I’m sure as shit.”

You open the door to see Giselle grinning back at you.

“You remembered the code.” 

She looks pleased as you make room for her to enter.

“How could I forget? I helped you make it, after all.”

Giselle carefully observes the sleeping prisoner before softly chuckling.

“Hard to believe that this is the same girl that tried to kill Winter earlier.”

“I don’t think they are the same girl.” You quietly say as Giselle leans in to get a closer look at her.

“You think she’s putting on a mask?”

“It’s a hunch, really. You’d have to, in her kind of business.” You explain as Giselle nods along.

“Well, if anyone can get her to come around, it’s you.” Giselle presents you with a bundle of papers. “Here - it’s Winter’s research on the girl. Turns out that she’s been looking for Ningning for a long while. I just don’t see the merit in recruiting a girl who would happily remove your head from the rest of your body.”

“Winter’s mind works in mysterious ways.” You take the bundle of papers and set them on your cot.

A bit of night reading couldn’t hurt, I guess.

“I’ll drink to that.” Giselle shrugs before looking at the door. “I just finished polishing all of the weapons, and there’s a nice bottle of whiskey waiting for me in the my cabin-”

“-I’m alright, Giselle, but thank you.” You decline her invitation, but she doesn’t look surprised.

“A pirate who doesn’t drink, shoot a gun, or participate in any schemes. They should write a novel to dissect you because I certainly don’t understand you.”

You let out a hearty laugh before Giselle leaves you alone for the night.

“Be careful!” She says before closing the door.

“I will, I promise.”

~

“You’re strange.” Ningning comments as you stare out of the only window in the room. “What kind of pirate doesn’t carry a gun?”

“What kind of mercenary doesn’t know how to escape a jail cell without any help?” A teasing smile plays on your face as Ningning physically recoils.

Ouch.

“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that, I swear!” Your panic causes you to grab the bar cells in front of Ningning. “I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this… jailer thing.”

“I can tell.” Ningning dryly says. “Why does Winter trust you with this job? Did you pay her off?”

You have to repress a snort as you hide your smile with one of your hands, as the other continues to hold onto one of the bar cells.

“There’s no amount of money that could make her change her mind. It’d take divine intervention for that to happen.”

I remember Winter being like that when she was younger.

Ningning softly smiles.

“I remember her being like that in her youth.”

Your mouth hangs agape as you take in her words.

Did they not know? I thought it was in that bundle of papers that appeared two nights ago.

“I thought she told you-” Ningning gestures to the papers behind you, but you shake your head as you close your mouth.

“I didn’t want to read anything about you - I want to hear it directly from your lips.”

Something stirs with Ningning - compassion and camaraderie, perhaps?

You think differently than I do - interesting.

“I still think you’re strange - your behavior and your way of thinking.” Ningning repeats her earlier statement, desperate to get the conversation away from the secrets of her past.

“I suppose I’ll never change your mind, then?” You tilt your head at her.

The rare smile on Ningning’s face only grows bigger.

“Never.”

~

“Come on, up you go.”

It’s been a week since Ningning has been entrusted to your care - a long yet fruitful week of trying to pull any information from the girl in front of you.

You do have that handy bundle of research papers, but even hours of research can’t explain why Ningning chose to be a mercenary, why she chose to attack your captain last week, or why she’s so tight-lipped about any information pertaining to her at all.

Odder still, your Captain won’t tell you a word about her past with Ningning. Any account of their earlier interaction when Ningning was captured would tell you that they seemed to know each other, despite referring to each other as strangers.

What’s going on here? Why won’t either of them tell me the truth?

If there was one thing you could do, despite any limitation, it was getting answers to unsolvable questions. You would get one of them to crack, Ningning or Winter, so you could figure out what was going on between them, or rather, what had happened between them.

A bit of shock therapy is in order, then.

Ningning looks at you in shock as you pull yourself out of your thoughts.

“What do you mean, ‘up you go’?” 

“We’re taking a trip around the ship, so you should prepare yourself.” You play with the keys in your hand for a moment. “Hope you have your sea legs.”

“You think I won’t kill you?” The surprise in her voice is evident as you unlock the door.

“It’s more of a hope, really.” You move out of the way as Ningning gets up from the floor and approaches you.

Her eyes meet yours as the distance between you closes. One of her hands lingers behind her back as she stands mere inches from your chest.

Have I made a mistake? Was I too trusting? Is this my bitter end?

“You’re lucky I like you.” She quietly confesses before pulling a wooden knife from behind her back and handing it to you.

“I…” You pause while looking down at the knife in your hand. “You didn’t?”

“Why would I?” She smiles softly. “You have somewhere to take me, right?”

~

“Winter’s going to fucking kill you.” Giselle emphasizes the potential murder that may happen, as if you weren’t aware of the potential risk of your plan.

“I need answers, and someone has to start talking.” You shrug before grabbing Ningning’s arm with your hand. “C’mon, it’s time that you, the captain, and I had a chat.”

Giselle chuckles as you climb the stairs to the upper deck.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you about Winter.”

“Don’t say you didn’t warn them about me?” Winter parrots as she stands at the top of the stairs.

“Nope, fuck this.” Giselle quickly gets out of dodge as you haul Ningning up the stairs.

You can’t read the expression on her face but you can tell that she’s hesitant about this.

She’s not used to her secrets being out in the open, out of her control. Can’t blame her though - secrecy is how she keeps her head as a mercenary.

“I can’t say I’m surprised at this.” Winter offers you a weak smile. “I thought you’d connect the dots and come to see me sooner.”

“I respected my captain’s privacy until I had concerns on behalf of my prisoner.” You look over to Ningning, who glares at Winter.

“I’ll talk to you,” She stares down Winter before looking at you, “both of you, in private. Not out here - there’s too many eyes and ears for my liking.”

“Alright, you have my word. I’ll lead the way.” 

~

Winter’s quarters are a bit cozier than you remember - an improvement made by their partner and first mate. A small candle that smells of lavender sits in the middle of Winter’s desk, along with a few maps scattered around the table.

You let go of Ningning’s arm as you sit down on the left of your captain, but her hand quickly finds yours as she takes a seat on your left. You bite your lip before hiding your interconnected hands under the table - you don’t need your captain getting the wrong idea, after all.

She won’t sit next to Winter. The bad blood between them runs deep.

“So…” Winter trails off before grabbing a glass of brandy. “Where do we start?”

“I don’t want to talk to you. I want to tell the truth.” Ningning harshly replies as Winter offers you a glass of brandy.

You shake your head before passing it to Ningning, who happily sips from the cup with her free hand.

She’s cute when she’s not insulting me or my friends.

You allow the thought to quickly pass by your mind - now’s not the time for those types of thoughts.

“You never were one to talk about your feelings.” Winter shrugs before taking a sip from her glass. “Why don’t I go first?”

“Why, so you can try to justify why you left me with those people?”

Your eyes widen as you look between the two girls. Ningning, who looks oddly justified by this reveal, and Winter, who’s trying to gauge your reaction as you’re trying to find hers.

Why is she worried about what I think? Is this about her past?

“Yes, your dear Captain,” Ningning spits out, “was a mercenary. A damn good one, before she up and left me. She stole from them too, and guess who took the blame for that? A person near and dear to her heart that she once called a friend.”

“I-” Winter looks away in shame as you look up to the ceiling.

I feel like I’m intruding on something that should be said in confidence.

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what they did to you after I left.” Winter quietly says as she stares into her glass of brandy. “That’s why I left, you know. I couldn’t take the cruelty of it all. Satisfied, Ningning?”

“I should be,” Ningning takes a deep breath, “but I’m not. I imagined this exact conversation happening over and over, and yet-”

“-it wasn’t how you hoped it would go?” You finish her thought as she nods.

“I thought that it’d happen with a knife to her throat,” Ningning continues, “but I never could’ve killed her. Not you, Minjeong. No matter how much I hate you, I can’t find it in my heart to kill you. I had so many opportunities to kill you when I snuck onto this ship, but the only moment I could truly do so was when you turned your back. To watch life leave your eyes… it would’ve been torture.”

“I knew you didn’t want to kill me, and I didn’t want to torture you for your-” Winter pauses in thoughtful contemplation, “our betrayals of each other.”

“So what now?” Ningning asks as she squeezes your hand for comfort.

“We start over, as friends, and this all stays between the three of us.” Winter looks at you. “Has your curiosity been satisfied?”

“Most definitely.” You give her a teasing smile as she nods.

“I figured, but let’s make this all official.” Winter stands and walks over to Ningning.

She offers the mercenary her hand - an olive branch.

“Come join my crew. Start anew. You won’t have to go back to those mercenaries, I promise. We’ll take care of you.”

“You promise?” Ningning lets go of your hand before her hand hovers over Winter’s hand.

“My word’s as good as my gold.” Winter smiles as the other girl shakes her hand.

“I’ll join your crew, but there’s only one thing I ask.”

“Anything, Ningning, name it.”

“They,” Ningning points an accusing finger at you, “have to learn how to fight with weapons.”

~

“Did you really have to sign me up for fighting lessons?” You whine as Ningning settles herself in her new quarters.

“Can’t have someone I care about getting hurt, can I?” She chuckles to herself as you fold your arms in protest.

“First off, I can fight with a knife just fine, and secondly, when did you start caring about me?” You ask half-heartedly, hoping that she won’t joke with you just this once.

“When you started caring for me first.” She shrugs before walking towards you.

“I can’t believe I got you to care about me after you threaten to kill me.” You tease as her eyes meet yours.

“Neither can I,” She says before leaning in to whisper in your ear, “but fate must’ve had something different in mind for both of us.”

With a quick kiss to your cheek, Ningning leaves her room while leaving you in shock.

She… kissed me?

“Wait, that’s not how you did your work as a mercenary, right?” You call down the hallway, which only causes her to loudly laugh. “Answer me, Ningning!”

Although she’s (hopefully) tugging at your heartstrings, you can’t help but want to know more about Ningning. She’s a treasure trove of secrets and stories, waiting to be uncovered.

Maybe, in time, you’ll get around to telling her some of your secrets as well.

[kittenintheden]

No Thoughts, Just Vibes

Oh, you know, just a little Solstice/Midwinter treat for you. Enjoy!

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Tav (descriptionless) (BG3) Content warnings: PWP, PIV sex, oral sex, sex toys, tooth-rotting fluff

---

Their adventures by night in Faerún take them all over, from the Underdark to check up on Astarion’s siblings and their new spawn charges to Waterdeep in search of potential arcane solutions for certain undead individuals with sun sensitivity.

In fact, they find themselves entering Waterdeep just in time for Midwinter. The magicked streetlamps of the place glow golden and are festooned with all manner of wintery decorations, which feel oddly out of place in the seaside city but have a magic all their own nonetheless.

It’s just past dark when they approach a wizard’s tower, having spent the daylight hours getting to know the tavern and inn down the way while the sun still sparkled off the water. Now that it’s safe once again, Astarion and Tav ring the bell near the tower door and are greeted with a series of chiming meows in the style of a popular carol.

“He really doesn’t have to try so hard,” Astarion says, smirking despite himself. “And yet.”

“Let him be the dork of his dreams,” Tav chides playfully. “He deserves it. We all do.”

On cue, the large door of cypress wood before them swings open and their wizard friend holds out his hands in the foyer of his tower, arms wide.

“You made it!” Gale says, beaming. “Come, come inside. Please mind Tara, she’s been quite taken with the mistleberry and has made herself sick more than once despite my gentle reminders .” He yells the last words toward the spiraling staircase and from a nook nestled high in the wall, he receives a hiss in response.

“Relateable,” Astarion mutters as he comes inside, but he accepts an embrace from Gale nonetheless, giving him a stilted pat on the back.

Truly, the lot of them are glad their adventuring brought them to Gale’s doorstep. It’s nice to be off the road and surrounded by modern luxury again, and the wizard’s gone out of his way to ensure their modest celebration is full of delights. He’s even procured a top-vintage sanguine refreshment for Astarion.

“Did you imbue this with clove?” he asks, swirling it in his goblet and giving it another sniff.

“Not exactly,” Gale says, cheeks rosy from his own imbibed glass of wine. “Were you aware certain herbal and spiced components cross the blood barrier when inhaled or consumed? Give the resulting blood a bit of an essence for a certain frame of time. Garlic is the most common offender, but I thought I’d skip it, in this case. This donation came from a dear friend in the spice trade. One who doesn’t ask many questions and frequently dabbles in certain other trades.”

Astarion blinks against the verbal onslaught, then turns to Tav and says, “Hold on. Is that why I break out in hives after you’ve put too much garlic in your food?”

Tav’s also delightfully tipsy and she raises her glass to him. “I love you, dearest, but I’m not giving up garlic for you. Some prices are simply too steep.”

The night winds on and on like that until eventually Tav nods a sleepy head onto Astarion’s shoulder and he guides her off to bed in the spare room at the base of the tower. He returns to Gale, who’s ragaling Tara with his own rendition of “Marvelous Midwinter” to her great disdain.

“So, Gale,” Astarion says, interrupting to give Tara an appropriately respectful scritch on her head. “I have a bit of a favor to ask, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all, my friend,” Gale says, swaying. “How can I help?”

Astarion reaches into his pocket and procures a folded bit of something. He hands it to Gale, who unfolds it and examines it with some curiosity before cocking a brow at him.

“Any possibility of, erm. Recreating something to this effect?” Astarion asks. “One tied to a command word, perhaps?”

“Oh, certainly,” Gale says, going into tinkering mode as he examines the object. “I would need a few components, but luckily I have them in stock, thanks once again to my spice merchant friend. A little bit of articifer ingenuity to craft an arcane battery, some relatively complex enchantment, and a… wait.”

Gale gives Astarion another look and the vampire tilts his head and smirks.

“Right, I’m not asking,” Gale says, eyes back on his new puzzle. “Give me a day.”

“Lucky we’ll be here for three,” Astarion says with a light laugh.

The morning of Waterdeep’s official Midwinter celebration dawns bright and mild, the sea breeze rustling through the thick curtains they keep drawn in the guest room to ensure Astarion doesn’t wake up with burns or worse. They doze in the double bed in their underthings, Tav draped across Astarion’s chest and breathing softly as she wavers in and out of sleep. He’d actually fallen asleep last night, pressed up safe against her, and now he smiles into her hair, tracing his fingers up and down her arm.

Eventually she stretches along the length of her body and yawns against his skin, resting her chin on him and looking up into his face. She blinks lazily and runs a finger over the length of his nose with a delicate touch.

“Morning, dear,” she says, voice still rusty with sleep.

“Happy Midwinter, my love,” he murmurs in return. “I got you a little something.”

“Oh?” Tav purrs, sitting up a bit. “Is it fun?”

He arches a brow. “I certainly hope so.”

Astarion tangles his fingers in her sleep-mussed hair and draws her to his mouth, kissing her deeply as she relaxes into his body, letting her tongue stroke against his. He rolls them both to their sides and hooks his leg over hers, taking his time as he lights up her skin in all the ways he knows she loves. She laughs, tilting her head back to expose her throat to him, and he licks along the column of it, though he doesn’t bite. He wants her fully aware this morning.

With one hand, he deftly undoes the clasps of her brassiere and tosses it aside. Her smallclothes follow quickly after. She hums, pleased, lazing onto her back as he kisses down her breastbone, palming one of her breasts and rolling his thumb over her nipple until it peaks. His mouth works at the other, teasing and swirling until she’s arching up into him and rubbing her thighs together.

“Is this my gift?” she sighs. “I like it.”

Astarion chuckles against the space below her breasts as he continues working his way down. “In part, I suppose. But not quite.”

He runs his tongue underneath her breast and then leaves her a moment to fetch something from the side table. She whines at his absence, but he doesn’t leave her waiting long. He rolls back over, slipping a ring snugly down onto the second knuckle of his middle finger.

She giggles. “Are you proposing to yourself? Fitting, honestly.”

“You’re cute when you’re lust drunk,” he says before he puts the weight of his body on top of hers, kissing her deep.

He hauls her leg up by the thigh, wrapping it around his waist so he has better access as he runs his hands down the length of her, gripping her arse tight before moving around to the front and teasing his clever touch between her legs. She’s already going wet, her arousal making for a smooth draw over her skin and she settles into it, a wide smile on her face, knowing she’s in a master’s hands.

Astarion grins. She has no idea.

He places his hand flat against her slit, cupping her and resting the ring against her in just the right place.

“ Deliciae ,” he whispers.

The ring sends a brief, rapid vibration through her core, just beside her clit, and Tav cries out in surprise, bucking her hips and gripping his biceps, her breath going erratic. She’s fully awake now, staring up into his face, wide-eyed.

“What in the hells,” she gasps.

Astarion gives her a light kiss. “I’d hoped you’d like it,” he says. Then, again, “ Deliciae .”

“Oh,” she says, her thighs shaking on either side of him as another vibration pulses through her. “Oh, dearest . Again.”

He's happy to comply, kissing her between her gasps and mewls, repeating the command word in a sultry whisper while he works her with his fingers in the meantime. His own arousal aches where it’s pressed against her hip and he gently grinds it against her for relief, just enough to keep his own head as he watches her break to pieces beneath him.

Tav rolls her head back and opens her mouth in a silent scream as her legs shake, incapable of holding back their shudders as a shivering, powerful peak comes over her under the little toy. It’s familiar but sweeter; her hips rise off the mattress and then slam down as she tips over the other side. Astarion feels her clenching and pulsing, strong and slick, and the entire ordeal is instantly worth it to bear witness to the unraveling. There is no pleasure, no greater high, than knowing he’s the one who brings her to this state. The one who has the privilege. The one she chose.

She blinks back to herself, a moan low in her throat as she tries to clear the spots in her vision. When she meets his eyes again, he’s panting himself, still rolling his hips to get some relief against her side. Her gaze clears as she breaks the surface of her pleasure and she growls, grabbing his face and bringing him down to her mouth, nipping his lower lip between her teeth until he whines from it.

“You liked my gift?” he whispers, breath quickened.

“Oh, yes,” she sighs. “Now let me give you yours.”

Tav’s hand snakes down their bodies to find his fingers and she takes them, slipping the ring off. He’s so dazed with lust that he lets her without thinking about it too much and gladly moves as she rolls them both until he’s the one on his back. Her mouth is so hot on his cooled skin as she places open mouthed kisses everywhere he likes – the space behind his ear, the place where shoulder meets neck, every rib on the way down. She spreads a hand in the center of his chest, over where his heart resides, and presses him into place as she licks down the line between his abdominal muscles.

Astarion’s cock twitches, throbbing against the weight of her body as she continues her path, and she uses her free hand to give him a rewarding squeeze and stroke, running the pad of her thumb over the split underneath the head. She gives his foreskin a little swirl, helping make sure it’s properly drawn down, and he thrusts up into her hand with a pleased murmur.

It’s taken time and significant gentle coaxing to get him to a place where he simply lets go and allows her to lavish him with attention. A lesson he’s forever learning, rewriting centuries of conditioning with care, with passion, with love. He closes his eyes and focuses on her touch, allowing himself the pleasures she’s happy to share with him.

With a slight jolt, he twitches when he feels her warm tongue follow the path of her fingers, rolling circles around the head of him and applying long licks down his length. Her fingers move to his sack, gently rolling his balls in her palm, warming them. She places a knuckle against the spot beneath them, kneading deep but gentle, finding the place that drives him wild.

“You are so good to me,” he sighs as she moves her mouth over his head again. “That’s so good.”

He senses her smile just before she swallows him down, taking his length halfway into her mouth and working him a few times before she pulls off and says, “ Deliciae .”

Astarion’s vision whites out as the knuckle pressing into his perineum sends a hard vibrating pulse through him at the same time she takes his cock in her mouth again. He gives a sharp cry.

“Bleeding hells,” he manages. “I… I…”

She pulls off of him, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and says it again.

Pleasure upon pleasure crashes over him, lighting up his entire body as he writhes under her touch. She goes slow enough to make it delightfully tortuous, though it would be incredibly easy to push him over the edge in short order. She moves the enchanted ring, experimenting in different places – the base of his cock, the rim of his arse, the crease of his thighs – and each spot brings new sensations.

He’s an absolute mess by the time she draws back and crawls up his body, his hands weakly grasping at her hips as she sits up on her knees, gingerly reaching between her legs to hold his cock in place as she slides down onto it, both of them near sobbing at the sensation.

“I love you,” he manages with what little breath he can hold. “Gods, I love you, I love you.”

“Love you,” she breathes back as she rolls her hips hard against him over and again. “Love this. All of this.”

Tav rides him slowly, firmly, with intention. When they get to a point where they can’t help but pick up speed, grinding one another into oblivion, Tav lifts his shaking hand in hers and takes the ring from her finger so she can slip it back onto his, the movement reverent.

Astarion looks her in the face as he reaches down between them with his fingers spread over the base of his cock where they meet, resting the ring right alongside her oversensitive clit. 

“ Deliciae ,” they say together.

They shatter in the same moment, eyes rolling back, crying out to the morning light. The waves of delight roll like the tide outdoors, rising up the shore and receding back to the great unknown.

Tav collapses onto Astarion’s chest and his arms are so very heavy as he lifts them to wrap around her back. They breathe, and pulse, and live. Eventually, he begins tracing soothing patterns along her skin.

He clears his throat. “I take it that’s the inaugural positive review for Gale’s potential toy venture?” he says.

“Oh gods, that’s where…” Tav covers her face with her hands. “Oh gods, I have to go out there and see him.”

Astarion laughs and she laughs with him.

[theplutodeity]

hii!! could you write anything fluff related with rengoku?? thank you so much in advance! 💓

of course! thank you for the request!! ❤️ Apologies for taking so long!! 🙏

Umai..? — UMAI!!

Rengoku x Reader — Fluff

SUMMARY: in which you finally get some time to eat a meal with an old friend of yours.

WORD COUNT: 2.3K

It was a slow day today, mainly because you didn’t have a mission today. It was weird, in all honesty. You often were out completing more missions than the average slayer per day, and suddenly you don’t have a single mission? Huffing, you scratch your head in irritation of what’s possibly going on, seriously: you might hate demons or whatever, but you don’t hate money.

The day itself wasn’t that bad, the sun was shining and birds all around were having a delightful conversation: except for maybe one or two, they seemed to be having an argument… Kasugai crows, they’re either a blessing or a curse to your life. Which reminded you of something, these crows don’t take as long as the normal messenger pigeon, getting messages around asap. You looked to where your own crow was perched, clicking your tongue a few times to grab their attention. Noticing your dire need for them, they flew over and huffed, similarly to how you did so earlier. 

“Do you think we could head over to the Rengoku Estate?” You asked, scratching the underside of their chin. The crow hummed before waiting for you to continue on. “Perhaps I could send a letter?” You suggested once more, to which the bird happily nodded towards. 

A letter… That couldn’t be too hard to write! You weren’t often on the giving side of letters, more often on the receiving side. Mashing up words onto a piece of paper wasn’t really something you had time for, anyway.

You notice that there’s a nearby inn, as you were on a walk with nothing to do earlier, and quickly entered it. Thankfully it was one that was slayer-inclusive, quickly thanking the innkeeper, you settle down and get to writing. You wondered why your left arm kept throbbing, though. You recall hitting it during a fight but never paid too much attention to it due to the urge to keep fighting throughout the past few days. Shrugging, you kept thinking, what to write?

To the Rengoku Family— Already a bit odd. You knew of Kyojurou’s father and his changes, you didn’t really want to include him in this.

Dear Kyojurou— A bit personal? First names were taken seriously, what if Shinjuro or Kyojurou’s adorable little brother opened the letter, instead? They’d jump into conclusions, especially that drunkard. He had nothing much to do, you suppose. Dead wife, dead life. 

You mentally slapped yourself for that, shaking your head. You quietly muttered an apology to Kyojurou’s mother, before continuing your letter.

To the Rengoku siblings— Inclusive to the ones you liked. Nothing personal and nothing that included the drunkard. You continued on.

To the Rengoku siblings, 

I hope this letter finds you in good health, It’s been a while since we’ve all met together, and I’d like to propose a meeting for us to greet and talk as it’ll be nice seeing you both. 

If Kyojurou is off on a mission, I am still more than happy to spend time with Senjurou, you both are enjoyable to be around after all. 

Please don’t rush your decision, and let me know within two days whether you’d like to accept or decline my arrival. 

Live long, (Full name).

You placed a harsh dot at the end, cringing at how oddly worded it was, but at the same time you gave barely more than half a fuck about how to write letters properly. Clicking your tongue, like you did before, your bird hopped over to collect your rolled up letter: placing it into it’s small carrier under their neck. You gave the bird a small peck on the head, storing wisteria in their locket as you changed it out weekly, just to make sure they stayed safe.

Demons would do anything for more information on slayers.

The crow bid you farewell, returning the peck to your hand, softly given. Stretching, you took the clothes the old woman gave you earlier and changed into it, your arm still bothering you. You debated on asking for a doctor, but decided you’ll ask tomorrow or see one in town. 

After a hearty meal and a few hours of leg exercises, you decide to tuck yourself into bed, expecting your bird to come back the next morning. After all, you were far out. However, a knock at your room’s door caught your attention, blinking a few times: your heart began to race. 

It wasn’t uncommon for a demon to knock to seem friendly, before attacking the person inside of their room. It was apart of their game. They were natural hunters. You gulped, standing up and trying to listen for any abnormal sounds, grabbing your nichirin sword and holding it tight. You slammed the door open—

Just to be met by a terrified doctor’s face.

You sighed in relief, the doctor realizing that they may have scared you and apologizing. Apparently it’s normal for these type of inns to get doctors to check slayers within the first day of rest. So, you allowed for the doctor to look you over, deciding you might as well mention the issue with your left arm. Turns out, it was fractured due to the previous demon. You cursed them out mentally, demons always caused you inconveniences, more than humans themselves…

Suddenly, tapping on the window was heard. You whipped your head around, almost knocking down the doctor. You were met with the sight of your crow back so soon, a new letter in their carrier. You could tell, as there was the Rengoku signature stamped onto the edge of the paper. 

You pardoned yourself from your checkup, your doctor just muttering something about overly rash slayers. But excused you, telling that all you need was some medicine that he’ll give in the morning, and leaving. Most likely fed up by you.

You didn’t care though.

“Hi there buddy, what’d you get for me, hm? Did you convince the Rengoku siblings to let me come with those beady eyes of yours for me? Hmm?” You cooed at the bird, petting them as you opened the small carrier on their collar. You carefully opened the letter, and proceeded to read.

To my dearest, (Name),

It’s most definitely a pleasure to hear from you after multiple long months! The Rengoku Estate would be delighted to have you come here after so long, so please meet soon! If possible, tomorrow! Senjurou has mentioned you many times in your absence, however he is a bit busy with the butterfly sisters in assisting some people! If it doesn’t clash with any of your upcoming missions, may you stay for a day or two? 

Your best buddy,

Kyojurou Rengoku.

P.S. I’ve fed Funimobu and added much more wisteria to his stock! I’m sure he’s still full, if not, then that crow surely is like us! Haha! 

You found yourself smiling at his letter, laying back down on your bed on the floor. You grinned to yourself, you were finally meeting Kyojurou Rengoku after so long, and he’s invited you to stay over at his home. 

You looked to where your bird was, and to no surprise: he was fast asleep.

You decided to do the same, you had a big journey tomorrow.

You had woken up early, as planned, and were happily on your way to the estate. You didn’t exactly grow up in the Rengoku Estate, but you did visit often which was because your families were well acquainted due to your ancestor’s friendship, or that’s what you were told. You partially didn’t believe it, friendships couldn’t last that long. However, it filled in the gap of why your families were so close. So you never bothered too much about it.

It took a couple of hours to travel to the estate, and god were you exhausted. But you still haven’t received a new mission, which began to concern you even further. Why has there been a lack of missions? Has something happened to the master? Did all demons suddenly disappear?

You really couldn’t put your finger on it, there was a lingering feeling in your stomach that there was something wrong.

However, all those feelings went away as soon as the sight of the Rengoku estate washed over your sight, your breath having been taken away by the nostalgia of the estate. It really did feel like it’s been a long time.

Staring at the shoji doors, you knocked harshly onto the wood. Before proceeding to yell:

“Excuse me! Are any of the Rengokus inside? It’s (full name)!”

You could already hear footsteps halfway through your yelling, no doubt your partially deaf friend rushing to open the entrance and see you. He was good at being quiet, having years of practice, so it was obvious he was being loud on purpose to let you know he was the one opening the door. 

That, or you’ve memorised their footsteps and you’re just bargaining with yourself.

In contrast to the man’s loud footsteps, the entrance to the estate softly opened. You (raise/lower) your head, your eyes meeting with bright and curious colours. Kyojurou Rengoku’s eyes. You grin, Kyojurou quickly matching your joy. 

“(First name)! You’re just on time! I’ve finally mastered the perfect bento box combination!” Kyojurou exclaimed, he sounded loud to others: but to him? He sounded as if he was speaking normally. He was hard of hearing due to a demon that had a certain blood demon art that almost turned him deaf. Hence, his loud tone.

However, you didn’t mind.

You never minded when it came to Kyojurou. He was a pure soul.

“Really? Perfect, I was getting hungry!” You matched Kyojurou’s enthusiasm, his volume too. He heard you perfectly and smiled even wider, his smile similar to an owl's general expression. It brought you warmth.

“Very good! It is wonderful to see your hunger hasn’t died down, (Name)! It truly satiates my worries, we have not seen each other for a good amount of time, that is true, no?” Kyojurou started a conversation immediately, allowing you to follow him throughout his home. Senjurou’s sweeping was unheard of, as his presence was absent. 

“That’s true. It eases me to see you doing so well, Kyojurou! You haven’t changed a bit.” You smiled, seeing the skin on his face somehow untouched. Yours, however, had a few scabs and scars. Your body too. However, it never bothered you too much. You knew it would happen.

“Hahaha! I’m glad my unchanging form relaxes you. You can sit outside, I’ve set up a mat for us to sit and eat on!” Kyojurou stopped near the kitchen, letting you take a step in front of him so he could easily pat your lower back. Encouraging you to go to the back porch. 

Nodding, you did as he told you to. Opening the shoji doors that led outside, being met with the sight of a well decorated area. There was a mat, a tea set, wooden circles built to keep any hot dishes on top of it, and two cushions set for the both of you. Smiling, you set your shoes aside and carefully sat down, fixing your (skirt/pants) so you looked a bit presentable despite your tired body begging you to just not care.

You stared at his garden, the flowers and trees as strong and youthful as they seemed back when you were a child. You heard shuffling, sometimes you could barely hear people talk— for reasons you were unsure of— but you could pick up on little noises or faraway conversations easily. 

Kyojurou sat down next to you, his legs tucked under his body in a respectful manner. Having set down the dishes, he looked at you.

“I hope you still enjoy (favorite (sweet) dish), I put my entire soul into making it for you!” Kyojurou exclaimed, scooting the plate near you.

Your heart swelled as soon as you saw it. 

It’s been so long since you’ve eaten (dish), due to your consistent travels and missions and the lack of energy to even search for a shop that made that food after a mission. 

“Kyojurou…” Your voice wavered, smiling even wider.

“Eat up, (Name)!” He pets your head, his calloused hands standing out to you. He offered you chopsticks and let you eat at your own pace, the man himself eating heartily but not chewing loudly. 

However, that signature ‘UMAI!’ Of his could very easily heard. After all, he was literally shouting.

That didn’t really bother you though. That odd feeling earlier was washed away, thanks to him. And also thanks to the dish he made, you knew this took a long time to make, after all: he was awful at cooking dishes unless he kept trying a specific recipe over a hundred times. 

Your eyes softened at your food, then at him.

“Do you think the wind tries to tell us things that are important, but we’ve outgrown the language it uses for us to understand, (Name)?” Kyojurou asked out of the blue, his mouth full of food.

“I just want you to stop saying stupid shit, Kyojurou…” Sighing, you gobbled up the food he made. His voice continued to fill the silence. Eventually, he began asking— repeatedly— if you were going to stay the night, to which you reassured him— again, repeatedly— that yes, you were going to stay and see Senjurou the next day. However, he just kept asking every few minutes “Are you sure?” Just to pull an irritated reaction out of you.

Once you did, he laughed with all his might, even with you telling him it wasn’t even funny. 

The day stretched out, your laughs and giggles harmonising with Kyojurou’s bellowing laughs and comments. You really did miss this. And god, you were glad to have him near you. 

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

So, I was curious about this tidbit from the Patch 5 notes and I haven't seen anyone talk about it. Turns out one of my favourite new bits of content related to my favourite character is hidden behind betraying her in the most horrid way possible. Ugh.

It used to be that if you sided with Lorroakan in the Nightsong quest, you, him, and all the elemental myrmidons (and possibly Rolan) would just fight Aylin alone - a fight that obviously lasted one round, tops, and I think could only serve to make you feel bad about what you've just done.

Now, however, a really cool thing happens - Mum Gets Fucking Pissed. And four of Aylin's cool older celestial cousins (a nice new take on Slivers for my ol' 3e heart) come down to help her in the fight.

Amusingly, they put Aylin in timeout in a moon-flavoured Globe of Invulnerability every turn, which also makes her unable to attack or do much, even with her trusty moonbeam.

So you need to break their concentration (often on more than one of them at a time) in order to be able to even touch Aylin. Everyone being very angry and protective of her is A+++.

A good roll of that 12d12 can just delete characters instantly. Beautiful.

Aylin also gets some very direct buffs, primarily Hug From Mum, and we have waited far, far too long for that:

I just found this oddly touching, that she gets to have at least this bit of very outright reassurance, even if it is under rather horrible circumstances. And ironic, of course, that if you help her and triumph with her in glorious combat (Lo!) against yet another bastard would-be captor, she doesn't, and is left to grapple with her anger and doubt and nascent feelings of abandonment:

Player: Let his demise serve as a warning to anyone else who'd seek you out. Dame Aylin: Let him be the last. If my dear mother has any mercy, she will ensure it. [Trying to stay her usual self, but her mask is cracking a tiny bit here. Privately, Aylin is dealing with a great deal of anger toward her mother, the goddess Selûne, but she's not yet willing to face it. How could her powerful mother let all this happen to her?]

Or the more determined-sounding but depressingly "no rest for the glorious Sword of the Silverlight" variants you can get if Isobel is alive:

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

dreams of you.

(part 1 ?)

...

(my first *baby* attempt to make a comic-like art. i wanted to try an' tell a lil snippet of a story in like, 2 pages. there is technically supposed to be the second part to it, from bruce’s perspective. but idk, when *if* i will get around to it.

i suppose that this lil thing can be kinda related to this n' that timeline. so it might take place, after the ‘bruce sitting next to jon, when he tripping balls too strongly to be moved’ part, but before jon gets bold an’ steals one of batman’s gloves, bc he’s a lil freak.

this can be considered what came before all of it. the begining of crane slowly becoming obssessed with the bat. mostly since he keeps dreaming things, that he doesn’t think had happened, but they feel like they did. an' considering how he has barely any expirience with those things, it's odd how he can sorta recreate smth like that. smth that feels real. it gives him a food for thoughts. but the sort of thoughts, you can't really do much with.

while i think of btas crane as more emotionally detached / apathetic person, it’s feels natural for him to begin clinging to that one person, he seemingly has ‘connection’ with. even if said connection can be just a wishful thinking, a dream that he had under influence of ft. but for some reason keeps seeing even after he had 'recovered'.

i love to imagine that while irl, he was hallucinating an’ seeing batman as bat-monster, in his dreams, it’s opposite. he sees him as human. an’ he also sees himself to be a bit younger too. almost like it’s a callback to some more vulnerable part of him, that he prefers to forget about or ignore. the show writer’s notes said that jonathan has the same background as his comic counterpart, so he was pretty much bullied an’ isolated as well. but unlike comic!crane, he’s less emotionally volatile an’ more research-driven. but it’s hard to be calculated an’ logical with things, that he doesn’t understand. nightmares, he’s familiar with, those oddly ‘soft’ *in comparison* dreams aren’t smth he knows what to do with. esp bc he doesn’t even know if it’s based on reality or not.

regardless, i find it interesting that btas crane isn’t actually scared of the bat. he mostly view him as annoyance. such a contrast to both comicverse an’ arkhamverse, who are also way more engrossed in whatever confrontation they have with batman, than this particular jonathan.

he needs more time an’ his own trigger, that would kickstart his more personal involment with batman. it will start small an’ slow, but eventually lil flame grow into a forest fire. tho, i think he would handle the realization that he went from indifferent to hyperfixated to obsessed way differently, than his other counterparts too.)

[yuri-is-online]

I love masquerade ball trope, specially when you have anonymity when comes to romance.

Can I have number 6?

For Deuce, Malleus and Silver. I would like to know about theirs.

6. Crowley has decided to put together a murder mystery for the whole ball and you've been the first one "killed." Whoever is playing detective seems really upset about that.

My favorite part of romance anything is the pining and masquerade's are great for that (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ I guess they could be good for drama too but eh I am not a huge fan of miscommunication related angst. Unless it's that one route in Tailor Tales... and even then not by much.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, you have to be a special kind of stupid to "hurt" Yuu in front of Malleus, the rest of the event requests can be found on my masterlist.

Deuce

This is bad. Bad with a capital B- during finals week, House Warden Riddle finds out about. And now that he has thought up his angry House Warden, he can add fear to the list of emotions he's feeling, right underneath self-doubt and hatred of whoever decided to pick Yuu off first.

"Wait seriously, you're the detective?" Ace looks as oddly panicked as Deuce feels, their attention firmly on the playing card tight in Deuce's shaking hands.

"I just don't know where I should start." Deuce says nervously, but it is clear he has determination if nothing else. "But you're way better at reading people and I need to know if you saw anyone acting weird." Ace makes a show of looking around the ballroom, the other students are more or less just mingling as they had before. It makes Deuce angry, he settles into himself in a manner that suggests he is about to flip.

"Hey hey look," Ace has both his hands out like he's trying to soothe one of the flamingos, which grounds Deuce only slightly as the back of his brain begins to turn towards an idea without his notice "I would totally love to help you out. No really! It's just don't you think you actually want me to-"

"Of course I do!" Someone shushes Deuce to his right and he glares in way of an apology. No one else has died yet which is a relief, he has to be doing something right. "Aren't you upset that someone decided to pick Yuu off first?" For some reason Ace doesn't respond, if anything he looks a bit crestfallen but Deuce is too caught up in his mixed bubble of emotions to fully notice. "They're already singled out so much, and you know how they always say it doesn't bother them but I know better. I mean not to say you don't- I just. I worry about them so much already and now they can't even enjoy a school dance without someone trying to pick on them-"

"I think you miiiight be reading too much into it Juice." Ace has begun to back away from him now. "And while I would like to help, isn't that against the rules? Wouldn't want to be you when Riddle finds out you didn't win us the game in a card soldier like wa-"

"It was you." Ace stops. Deuce stops to drop into a stance that has Ace really wishing he was not such a slacker on track days.

"If I had known it was you I would have knocked off Jack or something first!" He yells over his shoulder as both boys ignore the established rules of the game in favor of sprinting through the ballroom, a determined officer in pursuit of an only slightly embarrassed knave. "I just thought it would be funny! And jeeze why are you acting like this over a little crush!"

"See I told you." A wise little grey sage nods next to you as you survey the scene. "It's a total race to the bottom between those two.

Malleus

It was not a dark and stormy night until Crowley announced you were the first one out. You don't remember anything in the forecast calling for rain, or NRC students being so afraid of it. The green lightning flickering across the sky suggests a... degree of magic might be involved in this particular turn of events and you do your best to stamp down the tension headache that causes.

"Perhaps it would best if we take a brief recess to let the weather clear up before we continue with our game?" Crowley doesn't wait for anyone to agree with him before leaving, maybe never to be seen again, forcing you to contend with the looming shadow peering over your shoulder.

"You do know I'm not actually hurt, right?" You try to bring Malleus back down to earth, you swear you see smoke curling from his exhaled breath as beady green eyes look you over.

"Of course." He almost sounds like he's pouting, the longer you stare the more his lips purse and cheeks puff, you are surprised he doesn't break eye contact or cross his arms. "But threatening to hurt you in my presence is an insult."

"It was not an actual threat," you carefully take his hand in yours, guiding it to your neck so he can feel the steady thrumming of your heart, politely ignoring the way even more people scramble away from the ballroom. No doubt intimidated by the touching display of intimacy and not the way Malleus's eyes flutter like a blushing maiden as the storm slows to a drizzle. "Crowley just thought it would be a fun game for everyone to play, and since we are all wearing masks there's a good chance the killer-" Another lightening bolt splits the sky with a crack and Mallues's arm tenses. You gently kiss his knuckles and try another approach. "The person pretending to be the killer picked me at random. They don't want to hurt me, I'm not going anywhere." The rain ceases for now, the outburst seems to have rendered the game largely forgotten, with Crowley pointedly refusing to return to start it up and Malleus refusing to move. The band, at least, seems to take the que and starts up the music and Malleus moves to dance with you, making sure to keep you extra close in case anyone gets any ideas of really hurting you.

"I did understand that it was a game." He tells Lilia, even as the old fae shakes his head clearly unbelieving. "But human life is so fragile, theirs more so than most. I can't risk anyone getting any ideas." He won't loose them, not to anything other than time, and even then, if Malleus finds it within his power he will defy fate itself.

Silver

"And now that our first victim for the night has been announced, you may return to your mingling until our killer selects his next prey." Crewel is having way too much fun laying out the dramatic scene before him, even if he is disappointed with the first choice of victim. Silver appreciates his dedication if nothing else, it is always impressive how much attention to detail the Professors at this school put into the small things in events like this.

But he is stalling focusing on that, his purple eyes move to scan the perimeters, Idia is lingering in a corner too focused on his phone to really be playing, besides his first pick would probably have been Azul to save himself the headache. Satisfied he walks (though the people around him part as if he is stalking) away from his position at the entrance to survey the other guests. His hand twitches close to his baton when he senses someone coming up behind him, but relaxes once he notes his father.

"My, my, just what has my sweet boy so worked up?" Lilia seems to be in a very good mood, which relives Silver even if he had expected him to enjoy this game a lot more than he was. "I almost mistook you for Malleus with how severe your face looks." He pauses, gently touching his face as if he will be able to tell just what's so strange about it without a mirror and Lilia's conspiratorial grin grows wider. "Look, even our dear prefect is concerned." Silver's eyes snatch up to the balcony where Yuu sits, leaning on the railing to look at the guests below, mask set to the side lazily as they relive some of his stress with the clear boredom on their face.

The sight catches with the breath in his throat, confusion wrapping him in it's familiar embrace with a strange twinge to it he wants to say he is unaware of but knows he has been feeling more and more in your presence lately.

"I am trying to win the game." He tries, unable to look back at his father not out of fear of his judgement but desire for you to look his way just once. "I don't want this to reflect poorly on Malleus." Lilia laughs, forcing Silver to look at him empty handed with a look of disappointment his father knows he also is completely unaware of.

"Are you sure you aren't worried it will reflect poorly on you?" He watches as his son shifts, torn between wanting to spend time with him and return to his task. "After all, it isn't Malleus who is auditioning right now, is he?" And Lilia spares him the choice, flying off to said Lord as Crewel once again brings the band to a pause to name a student Silver is not sure he knows, and is surprised he does not care nearly as much about.

"Watch me." He silently promises you, bowing towards you just stealthily enough it is barely noticeable. "I will keep you safe prefect, I promise."

"You should give him a kiss when he wins." Lilia whispers into your ear and you nearly fall over the railing with how badly you start.

"L-lilia! I am not sure what you-"

"Or maybe a handkerchief with some perfume?" He is having too much fun at your expense to stop now. "That would suit the aesthetics much better don't you agree?"