#she's the ignorance and innocence and the inquisitive one

[creaturefeaster]

jumping back to my tim and hannah ask, I meant like how does gary work with the both of them ykyk?? And how all 3 of their relationships are (friendship wise)

Ohhh I see, okay.

Gary's got a pretty complex relationship between Tim and Hannah actually. Hannah's hometown, before she and her brother moved, was rather close to the main passage to the underground Talpian Dominion. When Hannah was younger she'd often meet up with Gary, who was always being rebellious and crossing the threshold into the land above. They sort of met by chance at first, and Hannah's laidback attitude was easy for Gary to get along with, so they just kept hanging out.

Gary being the person that he is, his overall friendship with Hannah is a bit rocky, being argumentative and a little bit of a grump from time to time. Hannah knows Gary doesn't always mean to be that way, and that he tries to be a decent person, so she still stuck by him.

One day though he just stopped visiting Hannah, after the gaps between his visits had already been lengthening. They got to be pretty good friends, so Hannah was upset about this for a while. But that'd've happened a few years before she moved up closer towards Tim, so she's had time to get past it ^^;.

But where Gary actually ended up, when he finally stopped visiting, was actually up in Little Stone where Tim lives. Or, well, he traveled the land for quite a bit, found himself up there eventually, and settled down. Where he originally thought was just a somewhat secluded flat opening in the woods, close enough to society were he to need any supplies, but far enough to where nobody could ever bother him. ...But instead he accidentally settled on Tim's acreage, and didn't realise for the better half of a year.

You could probably count the amount of times he encountered Tim with your fingers and toes alone, throughout the few years he lived there, but still a very unique kind of relationship between them came to be. Gary hated Tim the second they ran into each other, but Tim just thought the guy was interesting, and never told his mother about it. Which is all whatever, but Gary being so isolated from the world, any time they did run into each other he'd always draw the encounter out a little longer than it needed to be.

Tim also just totally trusted Gary even though he was literally trespassing on their lot, and that sort of trust continued after the Fault, because the first person he thinks to go to after he finds his mother kidnapped, is Gary. Not any neighbor, but Gary. It'd be this choice that not only connects Hannah & Gary back together, but also a visit that would retroactively save Gary.

So right at the start of the Fault you basically have this weird triangle of feelings between them, for better or worse. That tends to be their theme throughout their journey.

Gary wants to dislike Tim but the guy is so nice & he's been his only living connection to the world for years, and he's tense around Hannah because of his absence, but reliant on her because he needs her help with his pet Citus, who's body she helped design and build. Hannah is having to relearn Gary, the friend she used to know, concerned for his wellbeing but hurt by his actions-- while her other friend Tim navigates his temper with ease from more recent years of exposure. And Tim is buddy buddy with them both.

But also Gary can be there for Hannah when she needs a more logical brain to talk to. No offense to Tim, he can just be a little silly and airheaded with his takes on life, but that outlook also keeps Gary from getting too uppity about things & keeps everything lighthearted amidst their complex feelings.

Here's how I look at it simply, though:

Hannah - Tim: too silly, nothing to stop them from making dumb decisions.

Hannah - Gary: no fun, all serious, they can sometimes rub eachother the wrong way & make things more difficult than they need to be.

Tim - Gary: a cycle of nothing, friendliness that's met with defensive hostility that's met with more friendliness that's met with frustration. nothing gets done.

Hannah - Tim - Gary: balanced, just the right amount of fun and smarts, with a healthy distribution of emotions. they can accomplish a lot when working together.

🐥

[lobselvith8]

Regarding Gaider's "Modern Elves are Partly to blame for their own oppression"

In a conversation with Christina Gonzalez and a few other people on twitter, David Gaider, the former headwriter of Dragon Age, mocked fans of the Dalish. I took issue with his statement and pointed out why people are critical of how he and the other writers handled the Dalish in Dragon Age (while Allan Schumacher of Epic Games had nothing of substance to say in response). The Dalish are nomadic as a consequence of Andrastian societies violently attacking them if they stay too long in one area. The Andrastian Chantry outlawed their religion, making them criminals as a consequence of their faith. Andrastians will threaten the Dalish with violence in an attempt to force conversion to the Andrastian faith. Templars will hunt down the Dalish, and will even torture children. Andrastian elves also suffer from Andrastian oppression as Andrastian humans can massacre all of them, down to the children in an orphanage.

Gaider postulates that one could discuss how the ancient elves were "partly to blame" for their enslavement (let's keep in mind that being slaves is what he's talking about, even though he's careful not to put that into his tweet) or how "modern elves are partly to blame for their own oppression" which is essentially what we are told throughout the whole of Inquisition and the DLCs that accompanied the game (even JoH tries to romanticize the genocidal tyrant Drakon and place all of the blame on the Dales for the elves not trusting the tyrant who was invading their neighbors, forcing conversion, and massacring the people who would not convert - like the peaceful pacifists known as the Daughters of Song).

Inquisition even rectonned previously established lore on the Dalish in order to have characters like Iron Bull denigrate the Dalish. It's a game that will side-step Celene burning thousands of elves alive in Halamshiral while it will demonize the Dalish for wanting to maintain their autonomy from what's essentially a group of colonizers who want to rule over them and force them to convert, and the white Canadian writers (who are from Canada, a place known for its long history of horrific treatment towards Indigenous people) are firmly on the side of those who think that the Dalish (who, as Gaider himself once said at the Dragon Central forums before the release of Origins, were modeled after "Northern Native Americans") are wrong not to subjugate themselves to white Andrastian rulers.

Andrastian elves similarly face hardships because of Andrastian rule. In Ferelden even the efforts of the Night Elves fighting to free the nation from Orlesian rule didn't the elves any greater freedoms once Maric came to power. The Boon of the City Elf faces a number of dire consequences unless the Warden assumes control themselves as the new Bann. Inquisition ignores the plight of the elves of the Dales entirely to focus on a white human noble as the focus of the storyline in the Dales, and you can potentially help chevalier Michel de Chevin (a white man with blonde hair who is part of the chevaliers, a group who murder innocent elves as part of their initiation rite, although this isn't properly addressed in-game) while Briala's role is marginalized in-game despite being the leader of an elven rebellion across Orlais (and she strangely became white despite her in-book description making it clear she's a woman of color, which accompanying artwork confirmed).

Whether you're talking about the slavery of ancient elves or the 'modern' oppression of Andrastian elves and Dalish elves, I don't see how you can blame either the victims of slavery or the victims of racial (and in the case of the Dalish religious) persecution for the oppression they face. And Gaider doesn't seem to understand that at all, which explains the inherent problems with how the plight of the elves is framed within Dragon Age.

[rottenpumpkin13]

I keep thinking about what would happen if the firsts+Turks had to take care of children/babies they had to rescue from a village while they wait on their parents to get them. I feel like it would be a nice mix of pure chaos and wholesomeness.

➜ Genesis gathers the kids around for storytime (don't ask him how he had a children's book readily available on hand), doing exaggerated tones, dramatic gestures, and silly voices that make the kids hang on to his every word. Hearing them beg for "just one more story" makes him feel all warm and gooey inside and he's definitely holding back tears. He also plays dolls with the little girls and teaches them a few swear words because he comes up with telenovela scenarios that are not fit for children but shh focus on the good (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

➜ Zack is like a giant kid himself, so he has no qualms about playing pretend (and taking it seriously, okay? the man will scream his head off if a kid says there's a dragon in front of him and will fight the air). The kids adore him because his energy is contagious. Definitely the most popular with the kiddos but shh don't tell Angeal. But Zack also encourages the kids to climb trees and play in the mud so perhaps he's not the best influence…

➜ Reno, surprisingly, turns out to be a natural with the kids. He’s quick to organize a makeshift sports team with Rude, splitting the children into teams and coaching them through impromptu games…He did pull a whistle out of nowhere and refers to the kids as "snot noses" but he's surprisingly patient as he explains the rules and makes sure everyone is playing fair…until one boy questions his authority and Rude has to hold him back from fighting a child.

➜ Sephiroth is visibly uncomfortable in the presence of so many tiny, inquisitive humans. He tries his best though, answering their endless questions with serious consideration, as if he's in briefing—he refers to the kids as 'sir' and 'ma'am' and they love that he treats them like tiny adults. And then the children start playing with sticks as makeshift swords. He steps in, adjusting their forms and offering practical tips while sharing stories of how he made good use of sticks as weapons when he was a boy…..Ignoring the fact that Sephiroth taught a bunch of kids how to wield stakes, he somehow ends up in a braid train with some older girls. Eventually one child falls asleep in his arms and he refuses to move a muscle. He feels fully responsible for this child now.

➜ Tseng is initially stiff and uncomfortable around the children, but then he encounters a little girl with wide green eyes and a brown hair who reminds him so much of Aerith at that age. He crumbles immediately. Tseng is now playing with dolls and enduring the pang of guilt, remembering how innocent Aerith was, and how much she’s endured since. He pushes the feeling down, focusing on making the little girl laugh, determined to protect her if only for a little while.

➜ Angeal and Cissnei are dealing with the aftermath of Sephiroth teaching the kids how to successfully use sticks to attack each other, and are actively running around confiscating the sticks.

*Zack sees Cissnei taking away a stick from a child* Zack: Aww, what are you? The fun police?? *Angeal is wrestling a stick out of a child's hands in the background—he's losing* Cissnei: Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? Someone could get seriously hurt! *Angeal is thwacked in the face with the stick* Zack: Don't be silly! Sticks are great toys for kids! *The child hits Angeal in the shins. He falls down* Cissnei: ….Hm…I guess you're right. Do you want to come help me gather more so we can assemble an army? Zack: Do I! *More children have appeared with sticks to gang up on Angeal. Sephiroth will pay for this dearly*

[justalonelybitch]

Teach Me

Yunjin x F!Reader

Genre: suggestive

Warnings: suggestive content, prepare for death by yunjin pls people

Buy Me A Coffee :)

Yunjin hummed quietly to herself as she aimlessly scrolled through social media, a proud smile tugging at her lips as she came across a photo of you posing on the set of your drama. Her eyes instinctively travelled down to you, where you head rested in her lap as you read over your script for the upcoming episode. Her brows raised inquisitively at the sight of your flushed cheeks and widened eyes as you stared at the paper before you. “What’s up?” She questioned, gently nudging your shoulder to get your attention. You wordlessly handed over the script, rolling over to hide your face against her stomach as an embarrassed whine escaped your lips. Upon hearing Yunjin chuckle a few moments later, you sat up with a huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you pouted.

“It’s just a kissing scene, Y/n. It’s not a big deal,” Yunjin said with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, eyes dancing with amusement. “Speak for yourself,” you grumbled, features tainted with frustration. “Wait a second,” she mumbled in confusion, head tilted as her mind rushed with thoughts. “Don’t tell me..” Yunjin’s face lit up in realisation as you turned away, avoiding her gaze. “You’ve never kissed anyone?!” She shrieked in disbelief, heat rushing to your face as you nodded stiffly. “Really?” Yunjin questioned incredulously, brows pinched doubtfully. “Is it bad that I haven’t?” You questioned, feeling insecure under her watchful gaze. “No! Of course not, there’s nothing wrong with that.” The older girl assured, giving your shoulder a comforting pat.

“This is so embarrassing. My first kiss is going to be aired on national television,” you complained, burying your head in your hands. “What am I gonna do?” You whined in frustration, a groan leaving your lips. “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Yunjin tried to reassure you, but even she wasn’t convinced. She knew it was bound to be awkward, and as a result you would end up embarrassed and humiliated. “Unnie help me!” You pleaded innocently, forehead creased in a frown. “What am I supposed to do?” She questioned, instantly regretting her words as she watched your eyes light up in excitement. “Teach me!” You cheered, her eyes widening comically as she stared at you, mouth agape. “What?” Was all she managed to utter, shuffling away as you began to crawl closer to her.

“You know how to kiss right? And it’s better I learn from you than someone else, that would just end in a big scandal.” You reasoned with an innocent smile, her brows sewn together as she struggled to disagree with your logic. “I don't think that’s a good idea,” Yunjin muttered, anxiously gnawing on the inside of her cheek. “Why not?” You questioned, lips jutting out in a pout. The older girl hummed thoughtfully, sighing upon coming up with no excuse, or perhaps she just ignored anything that came to mind. “Fine,” she grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose as you squealed delightfully. “No one can know about this,” Yunjin warned, sending a stern glance your way, to which you eagerly nodded. “I’m not going to tell anyone,” you promised, cheeks suddenly flushing bright red.

“Um, how- uh..I don’t know what to do,” you grumbled in annoyance as you stared down to your lap with pink cheeks. “Just follow my lead,” Yunjin spoke confidently, swallowing her nerves as she focused on you. Her hand darted out to grasp your jaw between her thumb and forefinger as she tilted your head up to meet her gaze. She began to hesitantly lean forwards, eyes darting between your lips and eyes that swirled with nervousness. “Close your eyes,” she instructed in a whisper, nose cautiously nudging against yours as her lips lingered just short of yours. A shaky breath escaped your lips as you let your eyes flutter shut, curling your fingers into the duvet to keep your nerves at bay. It felt like minutes passed before you finally felt her lips brush against yours, butterflies swarming to life in your stomach.

Her lips were far softer than what you’d expected, taste so intoxicatingly sweet your head spun. You let her guide you as her lips began to move against yours, hand beginning to gently massage your jaw in hopes of soothing your worries. Yunjin’s free hand moved to grasp yours, briefly intertwining your fingers as she gave your hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. She then brought your hand to her neck, silently urging you to mirror her actions rather than anxiously fiddling with the bed sheets. Hesitantly snaking your hand around her neck, you found comfort in the way she patiently guided you through everything. Pulling back to catch her breath, she let out a breathless chuckle at the sight of lip gloss smudged on mouth, her lip gloss to be precise.

“Did I do it right?” You asked quietly, eyes swarming with uncertainty. “You did great,” Yunjin shot you a reassuring smile, painfully aware of the way her heart thrashed wildly against her ribs. “C-Can we practice more?” You managed to stutter out, voice shaky as your hands trembled ever so slightly. “Did you think I was done?” She inquired smugly, lips curving into a smirk as she pulled you into her lap. A small squeak slipped past your lips, hands rushing to steady yourself on her shoulders. “That was only the beginning,” Yunjin purred with a mischievous glint in her eyes, surging forwards to connect your lips in a less gentle kiss. Your eyes widened comically before snapping shut as her tongue darted out to swipe across your lips. She hummed gratefully at the taste of your sweet chapstick, urging you to part your lips.

You clung onto her shirt in search of support, the fabric caving beneath your touch, much like you were for Yunjin. Her tongue pushed past your parted lips, dancing with your own, her hands dropping to rest at your hips. She felt herself becoming addicted to the flavour of your enticing lips, kissing you with an eagerness that made you feel giddy. Yunjin didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but she was so hypnotised by your taste that she couldn’t stop herself from pressing an experimental kiss to your jaw. She held her breath as your shoulders tensed, lips curling into a smirk against your skin as she heard the faintest sigh of pleasure slip past your lips.

That was all it took for Yunjin to lose control, lips trailing further down your neck. It began with gentle pecks, then sloppy open mouthed kisses and finally light nips as she gripped your hips with a desperate firmness. “Yunjin-” Your breath caught in your throat, head tilted back as she freely marked your neck. “Unnie?” You called, voice shaky as you made a weak attempt to push her back by the shoulders. Her tongue darted out, swiping over the reddening skin as she reluctantly pulled away. You looked at her with wide eyes, swirling with an innocence that left chills running down her spine. Her eyes travelled from your doe eyes to your glossy lips and then finally to your neck. It was littered with marks ranging in colour, marks that she’d left. 

“Fuck- I’m sorry,” Yunjin rushed out apologetically, averting her gaze guiltily. She’d foolishly allowed herself to get carried away. But god did you look good after being inadvertently claimed as hers, your skin tingling in the wake of her lips. The older girl sunk her teeth into her bottom lip as her thoughts ran wild, the idea of you being hers most prominent in her mind. Now that she’d had a taste she couldn’t trust herself not to get addicted to the intoxicatingly sweet flavour of your lips. “Yunjin?” Your hesitant call pulled her back to reality. She hummed in response, knowing her voice would shake with unspoken desires if she let it. It was only when you decidedly reached out to grasp her hand that she finally lifted her head to meet your gaze. Her breath hitched when her wide eyes met your pleading ones, oh she was so fucked. 

“Teach me more.”

im just gonna leave this here 🤭

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love and Liabilities: Chapter Three (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Upon starting your last year of law school, imagine your surprise when the woman from your one night stand turns out to be your professor.

Word Count: 6.1k

Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Light sexual situations (very light)

A/N: Hello! I got a bit carried away with this chapter, but I’m battling a head cold so I’m just posting all of it. I’d like to warn that I am: 1) not a lawyer & 2) not a law student (yet 🤧)… so I did some brief research on things, but I am not an expert!! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and feel free to let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!

Tag-List: @aggieslittleslut @gilmorelivie @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @ris-ris-mind @sabstance-blog @tr333sus

There was a special moment in every person’s life that made them reconsider all of their past choices. For you, that moment happened while sitting in the middle of a lecture hall, wondering how the hell the woman from your first one night stand turned out to be your professor. If this was the universe’s way of being funny you were seriously missing the joke.

Agnes, no, Agatha, you mentally corrected yourself, was passing around a seating chart, and you were fixated on her every move around the lecture hall. There was something so hypnotizing about her, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. The most obvious answer, of course, was that she had just fucked your brains out a few days ago, and the hormones were clouding your judgement. Flashes of her body pressing yours into the mattress as she whispered pure filth in your ear, driving you to an orgasmic high had you shifting uncomfortably in your seat. As if she could read your thoughts, you noticed her inquisitive eyes meet yours. But as quickly as she graced you with her attention, she looked away.

“Now, I know most of your professors use syllabus week as an excuse to put off lecturing, but we’re going to be diving right into the corrupt, filthy world of criminal defense law.” Agatha’s voice rang out through the lecture hall, and you saw a few of your classmates' shoulders slump at her words. “The purpose of this class is to make you question your morals; to rethink any existing ethical values you currently hold.”

Agnes-Agatha, was so well-spoken, and you found yourself hanging onto her every word. Her perfectly painted red lips were mesmerizing to watch as they twisted to form various syllables, and you were having a rather difficult time focusing on her lecture.

Standing in the center of the hall, Agatha held her hands by her side, and you watched her fingers slipping inside her pants pockets. “I want you to take every preconceived notion you have regarding criminal defense and erase it. When you’re a criminal defense attorney, it doesn’t matter if your client is innocent or guilty. It doesn’t matter if they are on trial for petty theft, or for first degree murder.”

She turned her attention to the PowerPoint being displayed on the huge screen, and you, alongside your very disgruntled classmates, pulled out your laptops to take notes. “The biggest mistake you can make in the courtroom is taking the time to care if your client actually committed the crime. That doesn’t matter. I don’t care what any professor or prosecutor will tell you; ignore them. We don’t care if someone is a criminal, but we do care about the motive. Why would someone commit a crime of that nature? What would lead them to have to behave that way?”

A few of your classmates appeared surprised at the professor’s words, but Agatha continued on. “To win over a judge or jury you need to not only be able to rationalize, but clearly justify why the motives lead to the actions of the accused. Nothing in life is ever black and white, there’s always an obscene amount of gray mixed in.”

Leaning back against her desk, Agatha clicked through the slide show. “Now, I don’t typically begin this until a few weeks into the semester, but you’re all 3L’s, yes? You should be up for a challenge on the first day.”

Not waiting for verbal confirmation, she pushed herself off the desk, pointing to someone sitting in the front row. “I see my seating chart is still floating around somewhere so, you, what’s your name?”

A petite girl with sleek blonde hair pulled back in a braid apprehensively looked at Agatha. “Blair Lange, Professor Harkness.”

“Well Miss Lange, you’re going to be my prosecutor.” Agatha gave her a rather menacing smirk. “If you’d join me, please.”

Looking around the room, she spotted the seating chart and went to retrieve it. Her eyes scanned the page, and you were captivated with the sight of her long index finger tracing along the various rows filled with names. “Hmmm, let’s see.” Agatha drawled out, voice sickly sweet like honey. “Who’s going to be my next victim?”

It seemed the universe was keen on laughing at you today, as you heard her call your name, slowly drawing out each syllable. Lovely. Rising from your chair, you felt dozens of pairs of eyes on you as you descended the stairs, but there was only one set that you were focused on. Agatha was observing you with an indecipherable expression on her face, and you felt your cheeks deepen in color at the prolonged eye contact.

“So class, we have our prosecution, and our defense,” She motioned to you, signaling for you to come closer to her, and she handed you each a packet. “I’m going to be the judge. I want you both to look at the following slides I have printed detailing the case and determine how you would have handled this.”

Blair’s face paled at that, and you couldn’t blame her. Cold calling was intimidating enough, but a mock trial on the first day was not exactly how you imagined starting your morning. There were a lot of misconceptions regarding law school; a lot of law students, yourself included, had no interest being in a courtroom. Corporate law dealt with complex contracts and deals for major companies, something you preferred working with. This was nowhere near what you wanted to practice, but it seemed Agatha simply didn’t care.

Agatha strolled back to her desk, leaving you both to read the information provided to you. Flipping through the pages, you noted how the case involved a woman being charged with attempted grand theft and attempted assault of the business owner.

From a first glance, there didn’t seem to be much for you to even argue. The defendant was a former employee of the aforementioned business, and had been fired mere hours before the incident. But, there were a few interesting details. The defendant had no priors, and, from what you were reading, multiple eyewitnesses reported the business owner pulling a gun on them. Your eyes were locked on one particular paragraph, and you remembered what Agatha had just said, about obscene amounts of gray.

Blair, for her part, looked fairly uncertain, and kept casting nervous glances towards the professor. Agatha ignored her, and after a few moments she clapped her hands together. “Alright, let’s begin. Now, all I want from the two of you is to have a lively debate on how you would take the information given to argue your side. You don’t have to use the argument given on the page, you can choose a different route if you have sufficient evidence to support. Miss Lange, why don’t you get us started.”

Clearing her throat, Blair looked down at the papers, and you noted how her hands were so unsteady they were shaking. “Right. Well I would argue that the prosecution proceeds with both attempted grand theft and assault against the defendant.”

Rolling her eyes, Agatha let out a deep sigh. “Miss Lange, I’m not asking you to read verbatim what is on the sheet in front of you. When looking at court documents, it is essential to not only be able to read what is given but to be able to put it in your own words.”

Blair kept her eyes glued to the page and Agatha shook her head in disapproval. “Fine, I’ll let it slide for now. If the defense could keep us going, let’s keep it snappy.”

Taking a deep breath, you looked up at Agatha. “The defense is pleading not guilty to attempted assault and grand theft.”

You noticed Blair looked up in surprise at your statement, as that was not printed in the court documents, while Agatha merely raised her eyebrows, turning her attention towards you. “Not guilty? Why?”

“The plaintiff stated in their testimony that both the attempted assault and grand theft were unprovoked, but the defense is arguing that both of these allegations have mitigating circumstances that I’d argue are grounds for immediate dismissal.”

Blair shuffled the papers around, and she appeared uncomfortable. “Professor Harkness, that’s not listed anywhere in here.”

Agatha held up a hand, signaling for Blair to stop talking. “Defense, if you could proceed.”

You could feel butterflies begin to flutter in your stomach as you realized you were taking a rather large leap in judgment. “On behalf of my client, I’m looking to not only have these charges dropped, but to formally charge the plaintiff with wrongful termination.”

“Does the prosecution have anything to add?” Agatha questioned, folding her arms across her chest.

“I’m not sure where to even begin, Professor.” Blair admitted, and you felt a quick twinge of pity for her, briefly wondering if perhaps you should dial it back.

Agatha frowned, and you could immediately tell she was displeased with that answer. “You don’t know where to begin? That’s the answer you’re going with?”

Blair remained silent, and Agatha took a deep breath. “My, my, you’ve completed two years of law school and you don’t know where to begin. Is there anything constructive you can add to this debate, Miss Lange?”

Stammering, Blair shook her head, looking anywhere but at your professor. “No, I don’t.”

“Disappointing.” Agatha admitted, and her eyes narrowed, pointing to the door. “Get out.”

Your classmate’s eyes widened, and you felt that twinge of pity grow even larger.

“Professor Harkness, please. I didn’t-” Blair stammers.

“Get out of my class. Now.” Agatha repeated, her tone growing more agitated with each word. “And don’t come back until you’re adequately prepared.”

The hall was dead quiet, and you were too shocked to know how to react, or if you even should. Nearly all of your classmates were dumbfounded as well, this wasn't a normal occurrence in classes. A lot of your former law professors were strict and had extremely high expectations of their students; endless hours of case studies and readings, roasting students who froze during cold calls, you name it. However, you had never witnessed one of them kick a student out of class, least of all during syllabus week.

To her credit, Blair left with a lot more grace than you could have mustered in her shoes. She swiftly grabbed her belongings and hurried out of the lecture hall, the sound of the doors slamming shut reverberated across the walls.

Agatha paid no mind to the noise, her focus was entirely on you, deep blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “There is no direct evidence suggesting that the plaintiff is guilty of wrongful termination, is there?”

Your eyes flickered between the papers in your hands and the alluring woman in front of you. “Not in those exact words, no.”

Agatha let out a low hum, taking a small step closer to you. “So you’re basing your argument off of what exactly? Intuition?”

A few of your classmates snickered, but you ignored them.

Shaking your head, you tried to muster any remaining confidence you could find. “No. I’m basing it off the written testimonials by four different employees, stating that the defendant showed up late on the day of the incident because they were at a previously scheduled doctor’s appointment.”

“But there’s nothing to support that the defendant was fired because they were late. Much less, that they were wrongfully terminated for it.” Agatha skillfully argued, poking holes in your theory with ease. “How do we know that they didn’t have a history of showing up late to work? Having an incomplete argument guarantees the prosecution will tear you to shreds, you need something more absolute.”

“That’s true.” You admitted, and took a pause before adding, “I think the defendant being pregnant makes things a bit more absolute though, doesn’t it?”

Agatha’s face remained expressionless as she slowly raised her left arm up, index finger tapping against her cheek. “Is that a question or your statement?”

Without hesitating you replied, “My statement.”

“And how do you plan on proving that the defendant was not only fired due to their pregnancy, but that both counts of attempted grand theft and assault should be dropped?” Agatha questioned, and it looked as if she was actively trying to restrain herself from stepping closer to you, but surely you were imagining that.

“The defendant had absolutely no priors, and they don’t have a history of being fired from previous employers.” You pointed out, setting your papers down on Agatha’s desk. “They had previously cleared coming in late in order to go to a scheduled doctor’s appointment, and it was stated that when they showed up to work that the plaintiff fired them. Written testimonials from multiple employees stated the plaintiff said it was unacceptable for the defendant to show up late, despite them approving the time off.”

Agatha’s lips pursed as she processed what you were saying. “You’re making an awful lot of assumptions. What of the attempted grand theft and assault?”

“Grand theft in the state of New York starts at $1,000. The defendant showed up at the business after they had been wrongfully terminated to request their pay from previous days worked, which would come out to around that amount.” You explained, hoping you had the right number. “As for the quoted attempted assault, no eyewitnesses noted the defendant raising even a finger to threaten the plaintiff. The latter, however, was seen pulling out a gun on the defendant, completely unprovoked.”

“And if the plaintiff claims it was self defense?” Agatha fired back with so much zest that you wondered how much she was enjoying this debate.

Tilting your head, you pondered her words. “Self defense against an unarmed pregnant woman? That won’t hold up well with the jury.”

“You’re certain this is the argument you want to back?” Agatha tested you again, her index finger moving from her cheek to lightly stroke her bottom lip, and you found yourself hypnotized by the motion. As if she could sense your distraction, her ever red lips tilted up to form a slight smirk.

“I’m certain.”

Her eyes bore into yours, searching for any hesitation or uncertainty. You held your own as much as you could, ignoring the flip flop of your nerves. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, she gave you a single nod, turning her attention back to the rest of the class.

“Not bad.” Agatha offered, and you immediately let out the breath you had been holding in. “A few of your arguments would have been thrown out, but you certainly appear to have the stamina for the courtroom.”

She gave you a subtle raised eyebrow at the last part of the sentence as you lightly blushed, confirming your suspicions she had most likely selected you on purpose. Heading back to your seat, you listened to her drone on to the rest of the class that everyone would eventually end up in the hot seat before the semester’s end.

“And it appears we are all out of time for the day.” Agatha announced, and nearly everyone let out a sigh of relief at that. “Come prepared to debate the best way to prepare an opening statement.”

Everyone eagerly filed out of the hall, but you lingered, slowly putting away your belongings. A few of your classmates congratulated you on surviving Agatha’s ruthless interrogations, and you merely offered them a brief thanks. Agatha also appeared to be in no hurry, as she leisurely shut down her laptop. You debated on if you should talk to her, if you should address the elephant in the room that you were both dancing around. Walking down the steps of the aisles, you were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you tripped on the last step and went flying forward.

Before you tumbled to the floor, swift hands wrapped around your waist and shoulder, helping steady you to the ground. As you went to thank your savior, you were surprised to find Agatha standing in front of you, bag dropped at her side.

“You’re always this clumsy, hm?” Agatha lightly quipped as she examined you. If you didn’t know any better you would say she was concerned. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” You assured her, thankful she had been there to catch you. “Could I talk to you?” Looking around the room you noticed most of your classmates had left but you carefully added, “About the discussion in class?”

Agatha hesitated, and you wondered if you pushed too far, but after a moment she nodded. “I have some time now, my office?” She walked away before you could reply, swinging the doors open. “Try to keep up, and be careful not to trip.”

It didn’t take long for you to realize Agatha Harkness was quite feared in the law school. You lost track of the number of students who averted their gaze and scurried away as soon as they noticed her rounding the corner. It was almost amusing, at least Agatha seemed to think so, as she looked quite smug on the walk to her office. You made the trek in silence, and it eerily reminded you of a similar encounter you had shared with her only a few days prior. Upon reaching the office, Agatha quickly unlocked it, ushering you inside.

Agatha’s office was relatively spacious for a law professor, with high vaulted ceilings and large windows that allowed plenty of light in. The walls were adorned with large bookcases, filled to the brim with various titles ranging from Greek classics to biographies of different Supreme Court justices. She had a plethora of plants scattered around, and you learned from spending enough time in Maria’s office that Agatha knew how to properly water them. There was a large desk situated near the windows, with a high backed mahogany chair at the head.

Agatha took a seat, and pointed to two smaller seats on the other side of the desk. “Sit, please.”

You did as she instructed, taking note of the rather expensive looking whiskey near the corner of the desk as well as a few books the professor appeared to be reading. When you looked at her, you were unsurprised to find her curiously gazing at you.

“I assume you don’t actually want to discuss today’s class?” Agatha guessed, amusement evident in her tone.

“Not exactly.” You admitted, feeling another rush of nerves course through your system at finally being alone with her.

“Oh? Whatever did you want to talk about then?” Agatha bantered, leaning forward across her desk as she gave you an expectant look.

“Agatha…” Trailing off, you cleared your throat. “I mean, Professor Harkness.”

Frowning, Agatha reached her hand across the desk to brush against yours, chuckling as you jumped at the contact. “Just Agatha when we’re alone, dear.”

Nearly ripping your hand from hers, you folded them across your lap. “Professor Harkness, I really don’t feel comfortable calling you by your first name under these circumstances.”

Raising her eyebrows, Agatha leaned back in her chair. “Under what circumstances? After I just fucked you a few days ago and you just found out I was your professor?”

“Don’t say that!” You hissed, looking over your shoulder as if someone could have heard, despite the door being firmly shut.

“Honestly, dear, you aren’t the first girl to have slept with her professor, and you certainly won’t be the last.” Agatha stood up, walking over to an electric tea kettle she had on a bar cart. “Tea?”

Stunned by her casual response, you were at a loss for words. “You’re seriously asking me if I want tea?”

“Well I would ask if you would like some whiskey but I know drinking this early in the day is typically frowned upon.” Agatha jested, but upon noticing how upset you appeared she backed off. “Honestly, you didn’t know I was going to be your professor, I had no idea you would be walking in late to my lecture hall. No harm, no foul. No one has to know what happened.”

Her words made enough sense, and you reluctantly nodded. “I guess not.”

“It was just a one night stand, it didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things.” Agatha added, turning on her tea kettle, fingers raking over various mugs. “We can just forget it ever happened.”

You knew she was right, but you were surprised to find how much her words stung. “Right, well I’m glad we were able to clear that up.” Standing up, you grabbed your bag. “I shouldn’t take up anymore of your time. Thank you again, Professor Harkness, and I’ll see you in class.”

If Agatha was surprised by your abrupt exit, she didn’t show it. She nodded, pouring herself some tea. “It was my pleasure, dear.”

Leaving her office, you told yourself that you could relax and that Agatha was right, you could just forget that it ever happened.

Only it turned out the more you tried to forget something, the harder it was to put it out of your brain. The rest of your day was spent zoning out in the library. While you had wanted to get a head start on your hours of readings, instead you kept remembering the feel of Agatha’s body against yours, the taste of her tongue in your mouth. The feel of her long fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh, her hot breath in your ear telling you how good you were for her. It was embarrassing, really.

Agatha made it quite clear in her office that it was a one night stand, and that it didn’t have to mean anything in the long run. But she continued to invade your every thought, until you inevitably lost track of time. The hours ticked by, and you knew studying in your apartment wouldn’t be any better. You normally had no trouble shutting out the rest of the world to focus on your class work, but there was something so magnetic about Agatha Harkness. This was wrong, and crazy, and you knew it. You had only spent one night with this woman, you barely knew her. But she was addictive, and she had somehow managed to rot your brain in the process.

Just as you finally started to get into your reading, you heard your phone ding. Letting out a disgruntled sigh, you shut your books for the evening and grabbed your phone, deciding it would be best to just try again in the morning. Scrolling through your notifications as you got ready to leave, you almost dropped your phone as you read the newest email in your inbox.

Not sure if you’re still on campus, but if you are, feel free to drop by my office. A few things I wanted to discuss from today’s class. -A

It was nearly dusk, and you watched the sun slowly begin to set over the Manhattan skyline, filling the sky with colorful hues of oranges, pinks, and purples. There were still plenty of people in the library, as a number of students had night classes, and you were frozen. Did Agatha know you were upset when you left? Was she going to ask you to drop her class?

As if you were in a trance, you mindlessly walked to the professor’s office, keeping your head low. You could feel your heartbeat, pounding so loud you feared it might explode through your chest as you reached her closed door.

Knocking twice, you waited for her captivating voice to tell you to enter. Upon doing so you found the woman who had taken over your every waking thought leaning against the windowsill of her office, sipping on a glass of what you presumed to be whiskey.

“Shut the door.” Agatha immediately requested, not offering you any other sort of greeting.

Gently closing the door as you entered, you lingered, unsure where to go or what you should do.

Agatha finally looked at you, and motioned to the whiskey on her desk. “Would you like a glass?”

“It’s probably best if I don’t.” You declined, once again remembering the last time you were drinking around her. “Thank you though.”

“You were upset by what I said earlier.” Agatha stated, setting her whiskey on the windowsill. She said it calmly and so matter of fact you almost wondered why she bothered saying it at all.

“I wasn’t upset.” You disagreed, but she gave you a pointed look in return as if to say bullshit.

“You were upset by what I said earlier.” Agatha repeated, stepping away from the windowsill. “Why?”

“I…I don’t know.” You replied, the lie burning like acid on your tongue, causing you to wince.

“You don’t know?” Agatha mimicked your words, and she seemed agitated as she began to walk towards you, closing the distance little by little. “You don’t know why you were upset?”

“Professor Harkness, I really don’t see why we have to go over all of this again-” You started to say until you were rudely cut off by a loud cackle.

“For an aspiring lawyer, you have an absolute shit poker face.” Agatha informed you, swarming in; you shivered as you were suddenly standing so close together that you were nearly face to face. “Why were you upset?”

Your face grew red from her scrutinizing gaze, and that only egged her on. “I think we both know why, don’t we, darling?” Leaning in until she was close enough to your ear, she leaned in to whisper, “You wanted me to fuck you again, didn’t you?”

“Professor Harkness, I…” You breathed out, feeling yourself grow dizzy, and you couldn’t remember anything but her name.

“I thought I told you to call me Agatha.” The professor gently reprimanded you, as her hand came up to cup the back of your neck, and you could smell the whiskey in her breath. “Just Agatha.”

As her tongue parted her luscious red lips, you lost any remaining functioning brain cells and closed the distance between you, frantically kissing her. Agatha tangled her fingers in your hair, tugging you impossibly closer. The professor was kissing you with fervor, and you slowly found yourself melting with every passionate movement of her lips. Her tongue slowly, teasingly, sought entrance to your mouth, which you granted without a second thought. You let out a series of quiet moans as her hands moved lower to cup your ass, greedily groping, and she chuckled at your reaction.

“So easy for me.” Agatha softly murmured against your lips, pulling back just enough to lead you to lean back against her desk.

You wanted to argue that no, you weren’t easy for her, but you both knew that was a lie. Her hands moved to remove the scarf you had been forced to wear as a result of the multitude of hickeys she had adorned your body with, and you watched her eyes darken at the sight.

“Well you certainly bruise easily.” Agatha teased, tracing every mark with her fingers, the overwhelming sensation causing you to whine. “And still so responsive. Fascinating.”

Thousands of thoughts were circulating in your brain, and every touch from Agatha made it harder for you to focus. Her lips attached to the side of your neck, immediately alternating between sucking and biting, lightly kissing each new mark she left. At this rate you were going to have to ask your roommates if they had any scarves you could borrow. Just as Agatha went to unbutton your pants, there was a loud thumping noise from the hallway, and you both leapt apart.

Panting, you felt a spike in your anxiety at the thought of being caught like this, even though rationally speaking you knew no one could possibly know what you were doing in here.

Agatha seemed to be having similar thoughts, as she straightened her jacket, clearing her throat. “Perhaps this isn’t the best place to continue this. Could I invite you for a night cap?”

In an attempt to get your breathing under control, you shook your head. “No, I think that would be a mistake.”

Shooting you a perplexed look, Agatha strolled over to the windowsill to pick up her whiskey. “A mistake? If I correctly recall you just kissed me, did you not?”

“You came on to me first!” You argued, and your brain appeared to be regaining consciousness as you remembered why this was such a bad idea. “I can’t risk this ruining things.”

“Someone certainly thinks highly of themselves.” Agatha dryly retorted, finishing off her whiskey and pouring herself another. “And what pray tell do you think this,” she motioned to you before continuing, “will ruin?”

“I have a job offer for next year.” You explained, and mentally cursed yourself for your lapse of judgment. “They never said fucking my professor would cause me to lose it, but I don’t think it would help my case.”

Agatha’s eyes shifted at that comment, and she let out a sigh. “And you’re worried about what, exactly? That we’ll give ourselves away and this unimportant firm will care so much about your deviousness that they’ll drop you?”

“It’s Stark & Strange.” You bluntly corrected her, not caring if you were being rude. “And I can’t really afford to fuck that up.”

You didn’t mention how literally you couldn’t afford to mess this up. Law school was expensive, and while you were granted a few scholarships to cover tuition, you still had to take out hundreds of thousands of dollars of loans. Plus not to mention the extra thousands you would have to spend in order to prepare for the bar. You were thankful your summer associate position paid so well, as you were able to pay for the majority of your rent for the year, but you weren’t exactly flush with cash. Working in corporate law would practically guarantee you opportunities you could never dream of having otherwise.

“Tony Stark is a dick, and I know for a fact he’s committed sins far worse than sleeping with his professor.” Agatha unhelpfully offered, but she appeared to sense how upset you were as she finally walked back over to you, setting her glass down on her desk before rubbing your shoulders. “No one is going to find out, dear. There’s really nothing to fret over.”

It was surreal, how one touch from her practically set your body ablaze with want. It was clear you were unable to control yourself when you were around the older woman. The thought of having to sit in that large lecture hall three times a week, watching her and obsessing over her every little move felt almost unbearable.

Hesitating for a brief moment, you moved your eyes to look at anything but her. “I think I need to drop your class.”

“Absolutely not.”

Frowning, you looked back to find her staring at you as if you said something incredibly stupid. “Why not? You have plenty of other students.”

“They’re morons.” Agatha insisted, rolling her eyes as if it was obvious.

Snorting, you shook your head at how dramatic she was. “Today was only the first day, how could you possibly know that?”

Agatha’s right hand gripped the desk, while her left absentmindedly played with your hair, gently stroking it. “I can just tell, I’m rather gifted that way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “And apparently very humble as well.”

Blue eyes sparkling, Agatha continued to twirl strands of your hair. “You have a lot of potential as a defense attorney. I saw it today during class. There’s a lot of fight in you, and passion. That’s not something that can be taught.”

Blushing at the compliment, you shook your head. “Thank you, but I really have no interest in being in a courtroom.”

Shrugging, Agatha dropped your hair, taking another small sip of her whiskey. “It never hurts to keep your options open.”

“I just don’t think this is a good idea.” You continued, keeping yourself grounded to reality. “I can’t…control myself around you.”

“But that’s half the fun, darling.” Agatha taunted, but showed you mercy as she went back to sit in her chair. “It’s ultimately up to you, but I think it would be a mistake to drop the class.”

Following her lead, you sat across from her, fidgeting your hands on your lap. “So what, then? We just avoid each other outside of class?”

Agatha shook her head in disagreement. “Too juvenile. Besides, that would just make it easier for us to give into temptation.”

She put a special emphasis on the last word, giving you a salacious grin, and you wiggled uncomfortably in your seat before you eventually responded. “I’m not seeing any other solutions besides me dropping your class and trying to get in another.”

“It’s far too late for you to get a spot in anything half decent.” Agatha insisted, and you knew she was right. At this point you’d have to take an extra class in the spring, and pay more money than you could currently afford. “Besides, I already have a solution.”

You looked at her, surprised at how quickly she had come up with something. “You do?”

“We’ll make a contract.” Agatha simply stated, and you stared blankly at her.

“A…contract?”

The professor deeply sighed, running her fingers back to unpin her hair, the dark curls messily framing her face. “Honestly, dear. Didn’t you spend the summer fawning over those big bad attorneys at Stark & Strange? Yes, a contract. We’ll each put our terms in and come up with an appropriate way to navigate this until the semester’s end in thirteen weeks.”

A contract. Hm. It was a bit cliche, sure, but you couldn’t think of anything better.

But still, you were curious to what extent Agatha intended to try and make this work. “What exactly would we be putting in the contract?”

Agatha shrugged. “This and that. No sex, obviously.” She gave you an inquisitive glance. “Unless you feel differently?”

Flashes of her fingers curling and twisting inside you had you squirming again. “No, I think that’s definitely necessary.”

Grinning like a cat that ate the canary, Agatha smugly replied with, “I thought so. Given your particular lack of self control, perhaps we could eliminate anything…carnal, hm?”

Glaring at her, you wondered where she got the audacity. “I don’t think it’s just me that’s lacking control, but that’s probably wise.” Another thought crossed your mind, and you quickly added, “Then again, we never did discuss the Agnes of it all, did we? Do you really think you’re important enough to need to give people a fake name?”

“You’re quite cheeky for someone who was practically begging me to fuck her in my office.” Agatha shot back, and shook her head. “Do you not give yourself an alias when you talk to strangers?”

Enjoying the banter, you gave a thoughtful expression before eventually saying, “No, I don’t think most people do that.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, and she seemed unamused. “Safety, dear. For all I knew, you could have been a serial killer.”

You gave her a wide, innocent smile. “No, I just turned out to be your student.”

“You're not supposed to make jokes.” Agatha informed you, swirling the remaining whiskey in her glass. “Most lawyers aren’t funny.”

Ignoring her, you changed the subject. “And what is going to happen at the end of the semester?” You curiously eyed her, unsure what her response would be, or even what you wanted it to be.

“We’ll reevaluate of course.” Agatha explained, before adding with a smirk. “That is, if you pass my class.”

“Of course.”

“So do we have a deal?” Holding her hand out, you quickly realized she wanted you to shake it.

You reached out to firmly grab her hand, and her fingers intertwined with yours, blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

“We have a deal.”

Releasing your hand, she pulled out a post-it note, messily scribbling something down before sliding it over to you. “That’s my cell and personal email. Send me your terms by tomorrow night and we’ll put something together.”

Taking the post-it, your eyes scanned the writing before carefully pocketing it. “Right, thanks. I guess I should be going?”

Nodding, Agatha stood up to walk you to the door. Meeting you halfway, she carefully wrapped the scarf back around your next, tugging on it slightly and grinning at the shiver you let out. “I look forward to doing business with you, dear. See you in class.”

Exiting her office, your fingers fumbled through the pockets of your jeans until they felt the post-it note, and you wondered what the hell you just got yourself into.

[electronicwitchcollection]

Here’s the third instalment of “Accidental mate” warnings! This does contain smut! hope you enjoy!

Grimmjow walked back into the room a few hours later, unsatisfied with his hunt. It had taken him too long to stumble across a lower hollow, and by that time he had too much pent up frustration. He had ripped into the hollow with manic sadism, relishing in the thrill of the kill. He didn't think to eat before the hollow fizzled away back to hell.

His growling stomach had brought him reluctantly back to the room in time for dinner, though now that his eyes laid you curled up in the bed, he suddenly had a very different hunger. You were breathing softly, lips parted ever so slightly. Curled up on yourself, fingers gently holding the sheet in comfort. You still wore Grimmjows musk, though faded the scent still lingered on your skin, mixing with your own salty sweet smell. It made Grimmjows mouth water.

He didn't know how long he stood there staring at you, a current of arousal flowing over his skin like electrical static. A knock at the door startled him from his watching. Grimmjow snapped into a defensive position, crouching low to the floor, arms spread to block an attack from getting to you venerably sleeping on the bed. His teeth were bared as a feline snarl ripped from his throat.

The warning growl woke you up, shooting up to a sitting position on high alert, eyes darting around wildly looking for the threat. When a tentative knock came from the door, you relaxed, shoulders sagging in relief. Grimmjow hadn't moved from his stance, muscles coiled, ready to spring into action in a split second. A low rumble emitting from his chest.

"Oh for the love of... it's just someone knocking the door Grimmjow." You scolded him gently, shuffling to the edge of the bed to stand up. You walked past Grimmjow, still staring daggers at the door, to open it. The woman who greeted you at the front desk was there, looking awfully uncomfortable at the warning animalistic noises she had heard in response from her knock "don't mind him, he's not fully house trained yet" 

You were rewarded with a strained smile and a petulant huff from behind you at your attempt to lighten the mood. Grimmjow grumbled behind you, muttering a few choice words you'd rather ignore. Instead you smile to the woman "how can we help?"

"I just came to hand you tonight's menu" she said offering you two cards and two pencils "please mark what you would like and how much of each, when you're finished, place it outside your door. Dinner will be brought to your room in little more than an hour " 

"oh fantastic, thank you so much" you say glancing down at the menu. The woman gave a low bow, sliding close the door and getting as far away from the pissed of arrancar as she could

"You hungry?" You call to Grimmjow pacing along the patio door like a caged animal. You sat heavily at the table, hungry eyes grazing over your options for some much needed food

"starving"

"come see what you want then" you slide his menu to the other side of the table, not looking up from your own. It all looked so good. You read through the menu twice, taking in all your options so you could decide, not wanting to tick off too many things. Pencil in hand, you first filled out the drinks option, choosing a bottle of house sake and lychee juice. About to decide on your meal, you notice Grimmjow staring at his menu as though it was about to bite him "something wrong?"

"I don't know what the fuck this says" he grumbled, turning the menu upside down and sneering at the little black markings. You couldn't believe your density at that moment. Grimmjow couldn't read. Of course he couldn't, he had lost all of his human memories at his death. He was a hollow, a hunter. There was no signs or books in hueco mundo, no one to teach him how to read, nor have the need to learn. Your eyes softened as you watched him inquisitively inspect the menu, it was innocent, almost child like

"here pass it back, I'll fill it out for you" you held out a hand expectantly, relieved when he placed it in your hand and not throw another fit. He sat opposite, long legs stretched under the table to lay either side of your own crossed ones "what do you like?" 

"meat"  the blunt answer nearly made you chuckle, silly question. Of course the predator liked meat. You weren't sure how much human food he has had the chance to eat. There were probably hundreds of new flavours and textures for him to try. A few veggies wouldn't hurt him either

"How about I just select a few different ones for us to try? We can lay them all on the table and try a little of each?"  You took Grimmjows shrug as a yes, quickly marking off a few different rice, noodle and vegetable dishes. You chose one or two of each meat dish you could find, then doubling your drink order and adding water. You gathered up the cards and pencils, leaving them just outside your room door.

She said it'll be done in over an hour, plenty of time to get clean and have a well deserved soak in the bath. You stretch your arms above your head as you walked to the draws, earlier shown to be where the towels were kept. You pulled out two, laying one on top of the dresser for Grimmjow.

You rummaged through your back, grabbing the smaller toiletries bag and laying out some sleep clothes on the mattress "Im going to clean up before dinner. You should do the same, that shack wasn't the cleanest" 

Grimmjow just grunted at your comment, a strange feeling fluttering about in his stomach at the idea of you cleaning off his scent. Stepping outside, closing the sliding door behind you, you set down your belongings near the shower before stripping off your clothing. The sky was beginning to darken, air beginning to chill at the retreat of the sun. Confident there wasn't anyone around to see you naked, you walk into the open shower, washing quickly.

The water wasn't as hot as you would've liked, but it got you clean. You washed your hair, familiar fruity smell lingering on your damp strands. The pressure did wonders on your back, falling heavily into your muscles beat away the tension. When a stronger gust of wind blew across your body, skin erupting in goosebumps, you decided to retreat quickly to the hot bubbling bath.

You gingerly stepped in, hissing at the difference of temperature. You were about to slowly ease yourself in, accommodate your body to the temperature when the sliding door flung open suddenly, Grimmjow striding out completely naked

"Grimmjow!" You squeak at him, quickly sitting in the bath, covering yourself with the bubbles. Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow at your girly exclamation, striding across the small patio to stand under the spray of the shower "what the hell are you doing?"

"washing"

"No you dolt". You pinched the bridge of your nose, cheeks flushing a brilliant red. You tried not to watch as Grimmjow rubbed his rough hands all over his body, thick droplets of water trickling down his tanned, sculptured torso... "I'm naked!" 

"So am I"  he shrugged, leaning his head back, letting the spray hit him in the face. Your mouth dried at the sight, his wet hair lost it's pushed back style, falling limply down the sides of his face. It softened his features somewhat, it was different, not bad, just different. He was still infuriating though

"Have you ever heard of privacy? Men and women don't tend to bathe together" Honestly, did you have to teach him everything? Damn animal. Grimmjow chuckled, deep and dirtily, as he abandoned the shower to climb into the bath opposite you, despite your protests. He leaned back against the side, wide arm span draping over the edge.

"You're so weird, been walking around with my seed in ya all day but cry when I see your tits" even with his head leaned back you could see the wrath inducing grin plastered on his face. Smug bastard

"Thats different" you try to defend yourself. A futile attempt, there was no point in arguing with Grimmjow about your values and customs. He either didn't know them or didn't care about them. Grimmjow was amused by your attitude towards nakedness, it was bizarre. Before Aizen made him dress in clothes, he was always naked. It was natural, free. He hated the confines of clothes, they were tight and restrictive. "Just because we slept together once doesn't mean you get to see me naked any time you damn well please "

"Woman, will you shut up" Grimmjow muttered darkly, sinking further into the soothing bubbling water. It smelt strange, a tangy chemical smell that didn't smell safe to drink. But the hot water was soothing, the strong bubbles beat against his muscles, working out the knots in his muscles. He didn't miss the way you said "once" either. The notion made him frown for some reason.

You frowned at his rude dismissal, grumbling under your breath about uncouth animals who should be locked up in a cage. You didn't feel as relaxed in the tub as you had intended, not with Grimmjow spreading his legs and taking up most of the room. The hot water did sooth you though, you had hardly any discomfort left lingering. Grimmjow looked better too. A lot less wound up than he did earlier. Didn't have that crazed, wounded animal look he had worn.

Head hung back, you could see how thick his neck was, Adam's apple protruding proudly. His shoulders were wide, defined, arms spread wide across the lip of the bath, even relaxed his biceps bulged. Speaking of bulges... no. You couldn't go there, not again. He was good looking. You couldn't deny that. If only he didn't act like a rabid animal half time, he could possibly make someone very happy. Just not you. You were too different. Wanted different things.

Your stomach growling loudly reminded you how hungry you were. Grimmjows head snapped up at the loud rumble, giving you a disbelieving look. You flip him the middle finger, deadpan look on your face as he grinned manically at you. You roll your eyes, about to stand when you stopped yourself, painfully aware of how naked you were.

Grimmjow had no such qualms standing upright in one fluid motion, flaccid penis eye level as water trickled down over his abs. Even soft it was a sight to behold. Thick and long, it commanded attention. Grimmjow either didn't notice the blush rushing your face or chose to ignore it. He stepped from the tub, shaking his body to rid himself of the extra water before walking back into the room.

You let out a slow trembling breath when he was out of sight, closing your eyes to clear your mind. No. Not again. No dick was worth putting up with that maniac, not even one as magnificent as that one. Slipping from the tub as quick as you could, you hurriedly got yourself wrapped up in your towel, waiting to give Grimmjow enough time to get dressed before you headed back in

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Itadakimasu!" You proclaim happily, hungrily looking at the feast laid out on the table between you. Sweet and salty sauce covered different meats. Boiled, fried and battered, the tender chunks of meat gave off the most mouthwatering smell. The veggies were vibrant and green, seasoned generously and tossed in silky soy sauce. You eagerly picked up your chopsticks, handing the spare pair over to Grimmjow before selecting a particularly succulent looking piece of pork and popping it in your mouth

Juice burst in your mouth with a sweet, Smokey taste covering your tongue. You moaned appreciatively, wriggling happily on your plump pillow. You reached over for your lychee juice, chewing slowed as you watched Grimmjow fumble with his chopsticks, awkwardly holding them at odd angles, unable to get them to pinch

"Have you used chopsticks before?" You asked after you swallowed, sipping happily on your fruity drink. Grimmjow frowned at his chopsticks, fumbling with the wooden instruments. Getting them somewhat secure in his fingers he reached for the same pork you had eaten, growling when the chopsticks crossed uncoordinatedly and the meat fell back onto the plate with a splat in the sauce

"hat wearing pervert showed me once"  the description made you chuckle, two men immediately springing to mind. The fact that captan Kyoraku tended to prefer a liquid diet consisting of his favourite sake, you were leaning more towards Urahara who always had a dirty innuendo on the tip of his tongue. It made you wonder what awful nickname he gave to you, so far you had been graced with "woman" and "bitch", but you assumed Grimmjow was more creative than that. 

"Here," you lean over, adjusting the hold he had on them, "keep this bottom one still, use the top to open and close" You watched as he attempted again, securely gripping the meat, lifting up towards his mouth where it slipped free, rolling a sauce stripe down his exposed torso. Grimmjow growled, snapping the chopsticks in half and chucking them across the room. Impossible bastard

He glared at you, daring you to say something. Rolling your eyes you set down your own chopsticks, choosing instead to use your fingers to sample the next dish, some salty green beans. They crunched loudly in your mouth as you held his eye contact. His lip curled up at the corners before digging in, shovelling food into his mouth with much less grace than you had.

You had spent the following twenty minutes in near silence, save from explaining what certain dishes were and encouraging Grimmjow to try some of the veggies. The salty beans he enjoyed. The broccoli he did not. You laughed as he noisily spat it back out, thankfully landing in one of the already empty bowls

"that's fucking disgusting". He grimaced, reaching for the sake bottle and drinking hurriedly to get rid of the taste. You popped a piece of broccoli in your mouth, one that hasn't already been chewed and spat back out,enjoying the slight crunch of the steamed vegetable,

"don't be a baby, broccoli is good for you"

"nothing that tastes like that can be good for you"  He glared venomously at the offending green. Pushing it further away on the table for good measure. You were surprised at how much of the food had been eaten, Grimmjow had one hell of an appetite. You began clearing away the empty dishes, stacking them neatly on the trey ready to be left outside your door and Grimmjow scavenged the last few morsels of meat.

Belly warm and full of food, you glanced longingly at the bed. You felt great, no longer aching thanks to the wonderful hot tub outside, comfortable in your sleep clothes, fuzzy due to the sake. As Grimmjow obscenely sucked off the remaining juices from his fingers, you finish adding them empty bowls to the tray before leaving it just outside your door. You stretch languidly as you made your way to the bed

"Im going to call it a night"  you alert the Espada around a yawn, falling heavily into the mattress and wrapping the blanket around you snugly. The room suddenly plunged into darkness, the lantern that was once illuminating the space blown out with a puff of breath. You couldn't hear where Grimmjow was in the room, his silent feet made no noise on the wooden flooring. As your eyes begin to adjust in the dark, sliver of moonlight penetrating the dark though the small window, you could just about make out his dark silhouette pacing around the room, watching him til you drifted off to sleep.

Grimmjow outed the light, about ready to join you on the bed when your naked form flashed through his memory. The image of you naked, wet from your shower about to plunge into the tubs depths had him suddenly stopping in the middle of the room. The bath and the food had distracted him enough to ignore the undercurrent of his rutting season. Now that he was satisfied, his hunger began creeping back in, the darkness of night heightening his instincts. It was infuriating.

Grimmjow had managed to fight against his instincts his whole life, resisting his urges and taking control of his more primal demands. He was strong, he was powerful, he was in control. The one night he had given in to those urges, the tightly wrapped leash he had on his animalistic urges snapped, giving free reign to the insatiable beast, hungry for his mate.

Mate. That word flickered through his thoughts again. Grimmjow had no mate. Didn't want a mate, he was a lone wolf, depending on no one but himself. He especially wouldn't pick a mate as weak as you, a shinigami no less. Yet his body vibrated with longing need, muscles bunching, ready to spring out and capture you. You sighed softly, moving around in your sleep. It was a delicate sound, weak, sparking protective instincts he wasn't aware he possessed. It disgusted him. 

Grimmjow growled, low and dangerous. All these new thoughts and feelings were pissing him off. He had decided bitterly that he would just sleep outside, away from you and your bewitching pheromones. After tomorrow, he wouldn't have to see you again. Can get back to what was important, training and fighting. He still owed Ichigo a beating. As his fingers wrapped around the smooth handle of the sliding door, you let out a small whimper, rolling over to your back.

His pupils dilated, elongating to feline slits as his head snapped to your direction. Rational thought clouded by his most primal of instincts, interwoven with rutting season's unrelenting increase of testosterone. His cock hardened in the influx of endorphins, aching to be buried in your tight wet heat. Silently he stalked you, inching closer to your warm smell. He didn't like it as much as when it was fused with his own musk, but it was sweet, tasty.

Lightly he jumped on the bed, landing in a crouch on the balls of his feet, hands spread wide over the soft nest, weight hardly displacing the spongy material. Skin burning, Grimmjow pulled off his jacket, letting it fall where it liked to the floor below. His eyes had no problem seeing in the dark, sharp and focused they studied your face. Relaxed, smooth skin. Your pink lips were parted with soft even breaths. Unaware, unknowing of the presence that loomed over you, hungry, dangerous.

Grimmjow leaned over you, pushing back your hair to expose the angry bite mark left by his own teeth. The sight had his length twitching in the confines of his trousers, engorged and ready to mount. He could feel your jugular vein pulsate in the air, throbbing with blood, hidden beneath your delicate skin as he lowered his head, inhaling deeply at your throat. A steady stream of purr like rumbles echoed in his chest as he licked a hot wet stripe at the side of your neck, tasting the salty bite.

You moaned, tilting your head away from the sensation distrusting your sleep, little crease appearing between your brows. Grimmjow pulled the blanket from you, pushing it to the side. You stir as Grimmjow parts your thighs, manoeuvring to kneel between the gap created. Your eyes flickered open, confused and dazed under the heavy weight of sleep. Uncoordinated limbs push futilely against his hands on your thighs, attempting to brush him off while you gather your bearings

"Grimmjow? What are you..?" Voice thick with sleep, you mumble groggily trying to blink away the sleep. Grimmjow ignored you, dipping his head to smell your clothed cunt, fingers digging under your sleep dress to grip hold of the elasticated waist band off your panties. You jumped back into conciseness, slamming your thighs together, kneeing him harshly in the jaw.

Grimmjow growled, seizing your wrists as you lash out at him, angrily attempting to punch him into sense "what the fuck are you doing?!"  You seething spit the words through clenched teeth. This was beyond acceptable. You knew he didn't always understand what was acceptable to humans, and that he was struggling with his rutting season, but this was too much. "You can't just..!" 

Grimmjow slammed your hands above your head, towering over you menacingly as he pinned you to the bed. Your breath got caught in your throat, pinned in this prerogative position, solid wall of muscle dominating you to submission. "Want you" his lust filled drawl washed over your face, intense eyes trapping you in their hypnotic stare. "Grimmjow" you whisper his name, mind swimming in contradictory emotions.

"Want you" he growled deeper, rolling his hips into you, thick erection prodding against your centre, leaving no room for doubt exactly what he wanted you for. You were angry at his brutish attempt of seduction, rudely awakening you from your slumber. Offended at the way he man handled you, attempting to use your body to stifle his erotic urges. You had offered to help him the previous night, you didn't think you had to elaborate that invitation didn't extend for his whole rutting season.

And yet you felt a gush of liquid surge through your pussy, slick arousal dampening your folds at the feeling of his girth pressing into you. Your body flushed with heat, tingling with excited apprehension of feeling him in you again, bringing you to the most painful pleasure you've ever endured. The strong hold he had on your wrists, the masculine, husky tone in which he confessed his desire for you lit a flame of desperation in your stomach.

Your body was betraying your indignant thoughts, coming alive in his hold. You had gone months without the thrill of sex, but one taste and your resolve crumbled, body reacting to his uncouth stimulus, craving intimacy, the burning drag of being so completely filled, the blinding pleasure as you orgasmed.

You saw a shimmer of uncertainty flash on his face as the silence prolonged between you. He began to shiver, seemingly clinging to the control he had. His forehead leaned forward to touch your own, shakily panting over your face "say yes" his eyes screwed shut in concentration, restraint rapidly reaching the edge of his control "say yes" he pleaded desperately, hands tightening on your wrists, hips slowly rolling, dragging his cock against your centre.

You knew in that moment that If you refused, he would rip himself from you. He would leave the inn, create as much space between you as he physically could, so not to do something to hurt you. "Yes". You whisper, nodding your head softly under the weight of his own.

Grimmjow sighed in relief, giving you a look you couldn't decipher. He nuzzled almost tenderly in the side of your neck, lavishing the skin with little kitten licks. He stroked his cheek against your own, firmly smoothing his skin over your cheek, your neck. He was scent marking you, desperate attempt to get you smelling as strongly as his own scent and for as long as possible. It wasn't detectable by shinigami, but any hollow nearby would immediately pick up the scent for what it was. A warning, possessively claiming, and to braver, or less intelligent beings, a challenge.

The alpha in Grimmjow basked in the scent, in the claim. You were his, completely his. "Mine" Grimmjow muttered into your neck, inhaling deeply his own scent left on your skin. His hands released your wrists, dragging them down the length of your arms held in place by the weight of his look. His large hands smoothed their way over your covered breasts, down your stomach to grip hold of the hem of your covering. Your hands shot down, holding his own hands gently

Grimmjow snapped his head up to look you in the face, warning glaze filling his eyes. You squeezed his hands reassuringly, prying them off your gown to roll it up your body yourself. You didn't want Grimmjow to rip apart every article of clothing you owned. He watched predatorily, hungrily taking in every new inch of skin you revealed. Pulling it over your head, you offer a small smile, praise for his patience.

Your thumbs hooked into your panties, lifting your ass to slide them down your legs, dropping them to the floor safe away from his grasp just incase temptation became to strong. They were your last clean pair after all. With your cunt uncovered the smell of your arousal was overpowering, filling the space between you. Grimmjow could taste it in the air, mouth salivating at the memory.

Grimmjow lowered himself between your legs, anxious to lap at your juices. His nose brushed though the manicured hair sat atop your pussy, musky scent making his head swim deliriously. He nipped at your mound, teasing his sharp canines over your flesh. He had enough hold on his consciousness to resist sinking them in, leaving another mark claiming you as his own.

While it was extremely tempting, he knew how bitchy you were and he didn't want you to change your mind now that he had you open and willing. He started running his tongue through your folds, the first taste of your sweet nectar exploding over his taste buds. Your inner walls were silky, his tongue glided across the hot flesh effortlessly.

Grimmjow had always had exceptional senses. Sight, smell and hearing were perfectly honed to hunt, giving him an advantage in battle. When in his rutting season however, they heightened drastically, everything sharpening and focusing to near perfect clarity. Grimmjow could feel every tiny hair on your body, every minuscule vibration you gave. He could hear your blood pumping through your veins, your lungs pulling in deep, desperate breaths.

Your soft moans ignited something within him, the wet squelch of his tongue as it delved in your depths pulling more of that addicting juice from you, sinfully hardened his aching cock. He could smell the salty sweat appearing on your body, the heady, sweet tang staining his lips. Every sense was hyper focused on you, every move, every smell, every taste. Eating you out was quickly becoming something he enjoyed doing. He had never wasted time with this before, hollows and arrancars had no need for preparation.

Grimmjow was a quick learner. For never having heard about foreplay before, he was doing a pretty damn good job at pulling lustful moans from your lips. His tongue delved in deep, wriggling the appendage over all he could reach, rolling over the sensitive pleasure spots that had you panting. Steadily building you up closer to the blissful release you so desperately craved.

His fingers dug painfully into the soft flesh of your thighs, keeping them open obscenely wide, spreading your lower lips to accommodate his face pushing into you. Everything about Grimmjow was rough, from the way he talked and fought to the way he mated. It was all brutal, efficient. No easing you into it or soft touches. The way your body was writhing at his transgressions, you couldn't say you minded all that much.

Grimmjow's cock protested at being neglected, throbbing constantly at the lack of stimulation. His cock head was leaking onto the bed beneath him, a steady stream of his salty essence searching for a bitch to impregnate. Grimmjow grunted into your Cunt, angrily thrusting his tongue into you. His instincts were demanding he mount you, rip through your tight walls and slather your insides with his seed.

His inner beast was was getting impatient, battling to take control of Grimmjows consciousness and rut into his mate. Grimmjow moved his attention from your core to that little bump that had you practically screaming the last time. He shoved two of his thick fingers into your channel, roughly punching them into you. He could feel your walls quivering, steadily stretching around his intrusion, opening up ready for his cock.

A pleasure filled scream ripped from your mouth, you quickly stifled the noise with your hand, biting onto your curled fingers. Your hips bucked mindlessly into him, chasing the painful pleasure. A steady stream of moans and strained curses, muffled around your fingers drowned out the sinfully lewd noises being forced from your dripping pussy.

You could feel the band about to snap. All the tension building up, pushing you to brink ready to cave in in one glorious explosion of relief. Grimmjow growled into your mound, furious at the cries he earned being smothered. He wanted to hear them, deserved to have them. He moved his head to your thigh, sinking his teeth into your flesh while simultaneously using his free hand to wrench away the fingers dampening your vocalisation.

The burst of hot pain pushed you over the edge, band snapping painfully as it thrusted you into an intense orgasm. Hand held tightly at your side, you moan unrestricted into the room, hoarse and raw as pleasure consumed you. You sprayed your release over Grimmjows furious fingers, clamping down tightly over his digits. Grimmjow ripped them from you, shoving them into his mouth to taste the delicacy coating his fingers.

He rumbled deep in his chest, powerful and dominating as he sucked his fingers clean, watching with predatory eyes as you flopped weightless into the mattress, gasping for breath. Your eyes were screwed shut, chest heaving with every pull of oxygen into your starved lungs. Your legs twitched periodically around him as they slumped to the side.

Once your taste had fully left his fingers, Grimmjow gripped your hips, lifting your ass to rest on his folded legs and thrust into you in one fluid motion. Your back arched painfully at the burning breach, gasp caught in your throat choking you. It wasn't as painful as the night before, but still burned through your walls with the overwhelming stretch needed to accommodate his girth.

Grimmjow growled at the vice like grip encasing his cock, squeezing hotly around his sensitive length. Holding your hips in a bruising grip, Grimmjow pulled you onto his cock as he thrusted into you. His eyes were fixed to where you joined, watching as your cunt swallowed his length with every snap of his hips. It was hot and wet, impossibly tight, squeezing around him with rippling clenches

Grimmjow rocked into you with such bruising force that you struggled to take a deep breath. You gasped weakly around uncontrollable moans, hands twisting up the pillow beneath your head in an attempt to anchor you to earth. You've never experienced such consuming pleasure before you had met Grimmjow. He forced you to feel every powerful inch of his cock, the rest of the world dimming into the background

You we're somewhat aware of the fact you weren't alone, sharing the full in with multiple occupants. When Grimmjow increased his speed, rutting into you in a crazed frenzy, you had just enough thought to turn your head and bite into the pillow, muffling your screams. When Grimmjow caught the noise of your muffled cries, his head snapped up, enraged glint in his eyes. He wanted to hear you, wanted to hear his mate scream out at getting fucked raw on his cock.

With a demonic growl, Grimmjow moved his hands from your hips to your waist, yanking you upright to sit on his lap. He glared at you, chest heaving with indignant frustration. "Louder" he growled into your face, accentuating his point with a rough thrust up. You choked on your gasp, new position had him breaching you further. Eyes rolled into the back of your head as you clung onto his wide shoulders, nails digging in little half Cresent indents into his skin

"there's other people here, Grimmjow" you whisper, trying to explain your reluctance in a way that wouldn't send him into a fit of rage. "I don't want to.." you were cut of mid sentence by another rapid roll of his hips

"don't fucking care. Scream. My. Name". Your head lolled forward onto his shoulder, groaning loudly at every brutal thrust he used to strengthen his command. Your mouth hung open, drool dripping from your parted lips, unable to make a sound at his movements. It was too much, too full, too everything. The head of his cock rutted against your cervix with every snap of his hips. His nails dug into your ass as he pushed you into every stroke. He was pushing you to your absolute limit, body not made to accustom such an intimidating appendage.

Grimmjow set a punishing pace, using the string muscles in his thighs to easily plow into you. Soft whimpers and incoherent words of praise were muttered into his sweat soaked skin, moans steadily increasing in pitch and volume. "Grimmjow" the way you moaned his name, tongue lavishly drawing out every syllable, had him going crazy with desire "too much, too big". Your soft complaints did nothing but light a proud fire in his chest

"You can take it"  he darkly told you, licking a wet stripe over your cheek. You didn't know that you could. The knot started forming in the middle of Grimmjows cock, bulging from his length and adding extra texture against your walls. It was almost unbearable, the ridged band rolling against your beaten Cunt. Grimmjows thrusts became short and fast, no longer able to pull out from your abused pussy. The added stimulus made you soar, rapidly reaching your final, explosive orgasm.

"GRIMMJOW" you scream out his name, lost in the crashing wave of euphoria as you came hard. You bit into his shoulder, arms wrapped under his arms to claw at his back, nails leaving deep, angry red marks that had Grimmjow groaning. The feeling of your cunt as you came was indescribable. Gripping his cock in unrelenting waves that rippled over his length.

"Yessss" Grimmjow hissed, finally getting the reaction he had been craving. He held your sagging body tightly to his chest, frenziedly rutting into you with erratic, jerky movements, chasing his own need. Your teeth left him, panting wetly over the stinging mark, hands weakly sliding down his back as your body was sapped of the last of your energy. You rocked with his motions, whining softly at his hurried pace.

"Mine" Grimmjow whispered, nudging your face with his nose, getting you to sleepily turn to face him, Grimmjow stared into your eyes as he came, knot snapping painfully with a fiery rush of his seed shooting from him, painting your walls in thick ropes of his ejaculate. His hips slowly rocked into you, milking every last drop from his cock as he grunted sedated. As he came down from his high, body shaking with the exertion he exhibited.

He felt you slump in his arms, passing out from the overwhelming encounter. Grimmjow held you close, rubbing his scent over your cheek and hair, lightly purring in contentment. When the pull of sleep threatened to blanket him in it's inky darkness , Grimmmjow carefully manoeuvred you both on the bed, taking precautions not to jostle his cock in you too much and risk causing damage. He laid on his back, with you draping over him lifelessly, even breathing washing over his neck.

Grimmjow reached over for the blanket, snagging the corner and dragging it over. He managed to throw it over you, too tried to try arrange it to fully cover you both, leaving his feet sticking out in the open. His arms snuck under the blanket, wrapping them around you, hugging you to his chest as he sighed contently. The steady puffs of air from your breathing, ghosting over the bite mark you left on his shoulder guided him to sleep, happily falling victim to slumber while breathing in his scent mixed with your own.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Young!Samuel Seo with Young!Reader: Dinner Guest

G/N. Standalone but tied in to Leave Him Be. Next - doctors and patients

Dinner time has changed.

"We're having dinner now?"

"Yes."

You peer at your mom from the doorway with round curious eyes. "Why?"

"It's nice to eat earlier," she explains, spooning freshly cooked rice into bowls.

"Why?"

"It just is."

"Why?"

"Because I said so. Can you please take this out?"

"Why?"

"Y/N!" Your mom scolds. Using your whole name which means there is no room for argument or any more questioning.

You close your mouth quickly.

"Now take this one to Samuel."  You're handed the largest portion, rice shaped into a nice mound over the top of the bowl, "and this one is yours."

Yours is smaller, which is fine by you. Rice is just ok. It's the dishes you really like. Your mom has gone all out today, made your favourites and more. She always seems to do that these days.

Dinner is now at 4:30pm instead of past 7pm. Which is too early by most people's standards, but your young mind doesn't care about most people.

Maybe you would mind more, especially with your stomach rumbling late at night. Except, whenever you pad into the kitchen to look for something to eat, your dad is always there to share a bowl of ramen with you.

"Don't tell mom," he says and your chest puffs as you giggle at the secret between the two of you.

You sometimes wonder if Samuel gets hungry late at night too, if he shares a midnight snack with his dad.

Dinner now interrupts your make believe games with Samuel, though neither of you care. At least Samuel doesn't anymore.

Quiet and headstrong at first, refusing to share a meal with you. Until you asked again and again. The special sort of "why why why" that frustrates your mom and adults and kids alike and he caved.

You like to think you're that convincing (or that annoying). Truth is the food smelt too good, looked too good.

Samuel has been topped up on snacks and potato chips and candy since you befriended him, but he couldn't remember the last time he had a full meal, never mind one home cooked and lovingly prepared by a parental figure.

(He's weak to you and your family's kindness. He doesn't have the walls and defences he would eventually build.)

Dinner now comes with distractions. Your dad brings over the latest delivery of comics for you and Samuel to flip through as you eat. Both shovelling rice and meat and banchan into your mouths with one eye on the page.

You tried that a few times when Samuel wasn't there. Ignoring conversation and questions at breakfast and getting told off by your parents. You cried and wailed yet they didn't give in.

You wish Samuel was around all the time.

Dinner now means shared laughter and banter. Sometimes Samuel snapping at you when you push him too far. Then easing up when you slip him an extra piece of beef or your chicken wing. Talking about anything and everything, in the way children do. Inquisitive and looking at the world with innocent eyes.

Although.

Samuel seems to know a lot more than you. Has a cynicism that seems at odds with his youth. Looks at you sometimes as if you're not the same age and he has been through a lot more.

You don't understand what that means. Not yet.

Most importantly-

(Though the implications don't register for you right now; you will recognise your parent's concern and care years later, understand the sort of childhood Samuel had.)

Dinner now gives enough time for Samuel to eat, and then go home earlier than the first time he spoke to you.

The first time you played together and he overstayed, when his eyes widened with panic and he returned to your family convenience store the next day with a fresh bruise.

You're used to Samuel with bruises. Accepted them as a part of him. Your mom and dad never did.

Your dinner time has changed, and there's now a regular guest.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey dear! firstly i would like to wish you a happy new year(it's a bit late i think but it's the intention that counts) second i would like to know if i could get a imagine Daemon x poc!fem reader where all her family died and she is head of her home, but has a young niece (the only survivor, after her) and Daemon wants to marry her, but Reader tells him no, as she has responsibilities to her niece. So Daemon approaches his niece and ends up conquering the girl and they kind of become "accomplices" to convince reader to marry him. Just fluff, kinda funny and Daemon being good with kids and reader agreeing to marry him in the end and them being a happy family, please? (feel free to ignore)

Sticky Fingers

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: The alliance made perfect sense, Daemon, a prince, brutal, lethal, and absolutely unstoppable, teaming up with your niece, barely seven, tiny, clumsy, and absolutely unstoppable, to get you and him together.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: fem!reader, daemon girl dad vibes, fluff, girlboss!niece, typos, etc.

A/N: lol happy new year nonnie HAHAH i say as i type this on 22 jan 23 HAHAAAHH lololol. anyway, i have not written anything fluffy for daemon in a while soOOOOOO i hope to change that just a bit. I didn't get to write everything in the req,anon but its pretty cutie i think hihi. ALSO TO THAT OTHER NONNIE WHO SENT ME THAT ASK ABOUT WRITING FLUFF YOU CAN COME OUT NOW I GOT TIRED AND DIDNT MAKE THIS ANGSTY AT ALL HAHHAH Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony

Daemon felt it the moment he made it out that dull gathering. He had a tail, a shadow, someone lurking behind him. He looks over his shoulder slowly, bringing his hands behind his back as he strides down the hall, toward the garden. He hums as he softens the sound of his walking, now absolutely certain there was a quick patter of feet behind him.

He was, in fact, being followed.

The prince then rapidly turns around, a spit second confused when he was faced with no one, but then turns down when he hears the loud and airy gasp.

A child. He knits his brows, allowing his hands to fall to his side. A child has been following him. He pulls his head back. Did he look... amicable to this little creature?

He bends a bit, raising his chin inquisitively, "who are you?"

She catches her breath from the startling she got, hands on her chest. She takes a moment before responding, lips pouting, "Sonya."

Daemon raises a brow. A vague answer, yet fitting, he thinks, for a child as tiny as she. "Why are you following me, little Sonya?"

She drops her hands, releasing a sigh, "I am not little, my lord."

He straightens up at the sound of that, face barely contorting into amusement, "tis not 'my lord', it is 'my prince'."

She purses her lips, then curtsies, "my prince."

Daemon's nostrils flare as he chuckles. He tents his hands in front of him. He shifts on his leg, "answer my question, not little Sonya."

Sonya's face scrunches. Her brows furrow, "are you not the man who likes my lady-auntie?"

His ears perk at that. He purses his lips, "you're her niece?"

"Well obviously! I said she's my lady-auntie."

Daemon raises a brow, chuckling dryly, "that doesn't answer why you are following me, girl."

"Well," she brings her hands together, "out of all the lords that like her, you're the only one that gave her sweeties," she says innocently, "so I want you to marry her."

Daemon laughs, turning away from the little girl, shaking his head in fully amusement. He leans back down, hands going to his knees, "that is because I not a lord, but a prince, child," he raises a finger and taps her nose, "and you are quite easily swayed."

Sonya pulls her head back at the prince's sentiment. She rubs her nose, face scrunched all angrily. It was truly adorable. She asserts, "do not do that again."

He straightens himself up as he chuckles under his breath, thumbs hanging on his belt, "of course. Apologies. I would not dare do such indecency to a lady again."

Sonya nods, bringing her hands to her sides, "well, now that I told you this... can you walk me back? I don't know where I am."

The prince's lips pull into a smile. He extends his hand out, "of course, my lady."

She takes his hand easily and they begin to walk off.

"If you're the prince," Sonya starts, "then that means..." she gasps, turning up to him, "you have a dragon egg!"

Daemon laughs, clutching his belly as he did so. "Even better," he turns to her, "I have a full sized dragon."

The girl's jaw drops and widens impossibly.

"SONYA!" I gasp the moment I see the tiny silhouette from afar, running towards the girl, who quickly then runs up to me

I fall to my knees when I embrace her, "oh you foolish child! I nearly died trying to look for you!"

"Worry not-"

I look up, finding a smirking man with long silver-blonde hair.

"-she was following after a man of high regard."

I am aghast by the idea. I turn from him to Sonya, eyes widening, "you were following the prince?!"

I clutch my niece's soft, round cheeks as she mutters, "I told him I wanted him to marry you."

"What?!"

Daemon snorts then releases high pitched chuckles. I shoot him an annoyed look. How dare he corrupt my sweet niece with such ideas? I should have rejected his proposal more harshly.

"He's the only one that bought you sweeties, auntie!" Sonya calls.

"Sonya-"

"They were your favorite too!" she grabs my wrists, "the other lords bought you things you don't even care for. And! They were mean to me! He held my hand while we walked here, auntie."

I pull my head back at the words of the child. My eyes dart to the man, looking all smug behind Sonya, pretending that he wasn't listening in on the conversation, even though he was holding back a shit-eating grin, "did he?"

The girl readily agreed, nodding quickly. She proceeds to whisper, "and we talked about dragons!"

I grunt. He undoubtedly took the girl's fascination of the beasts to his advantage.

I release a breath as I get to my feet. I take Sonya's hand as I step towards the prince. Daemon faux looks at the sky.

"Your highness."

Daemon turns, lips curving into a smile, "oh, my ladies."

It takes great effort for me not to roll my eyes at him, "I believe a show of gratitude is in order," I purse my lips, "thank you for bringing my Sonya back."

He exaggeratedly sighs, trying to hold back his grin, "all in a day's work, my dear. After all," he peers down at Sonya, "the children are the future."

I cannot withhold the incredulous scoff that leaves my mouth.

The man does not mind, and even ignores it, opting to get on one knee before my niece, "now, little shadow, remember what I told you on the way here."

I turn to my niece, who readily nods her head at his words.

"Sonya?" I call in concern, "what did you two talk about?"

Sonya turns to me just before the prince presses a finger to his lips. She follows suit, "it's a secret I share with the prince."

I narrow my eyes, jaw slacking in disbelief. I dirtily eye the said prince as I lean towards the girl, "and I am your auntie. I do not want there to be secrets between us, darling."

"Shhh," she shakes her head and closes her eyes, shushing me like all the times I, and her mother used to, a habit we got from our mother, Sonya's maternal grandmother, "it'll be alright, auntie."

My face falls in concern. Daemon is unable to hold back his giggles. He turns away, pressing a hand on his lips to contain his amusement.

I shoot him a glare as he clears his throat. He turns to Sonya, "very well, my lady." He rises to his feet, placing his hands in front of him, "I will see you soon then."

The child turn to him in excitement as I look at him, appalled, "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, I promised the child to introduce her to my dragon if she came back to me with high marks from her studies."

I scoff, teeth grinding, "you know well she does not study."

"Hmm," Daemon tilts his head at me, "would she not when she is under you care?"

I am taken aback by his sentiment.

He presses his lips as he slowly turns to Sonya. Daemon dramatically sighs, "ah, what are we to do? Unfortunately, it seems your auntie is not keen on allowing you meet Caraxes."

Uproar. Sonya bursts into loud emotions as she grabs into my skirt and whines, "Auntie! No! I must meet Caraxes! I must!"

"Sonya-"

"I promise to do all my studies, and all that you ask me to do like prince Daemon told me!"

I raise a brow. I take a moment to think, "anything, you say?"

Sonya readily shakes her head, "I promise to be a good girl. Just pleeeeaaaassse let me see his dragon!"

I turn to Daemon, who was already looking at me, absolutely pleased with himself, crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side.

I blink slowly, releasing a sigh, "I will think about it."

Sonya squeals in excitement, releasing me in order to smother the prince's legs next. I am offended by how taken she was with him. I quip, "I said I'll think about it, child."

Daemon bends down, carrying the girl in his arms, releasing a happy sigh as he did so, "worry not, little shadow," he turns to me, "auntie will come around."

"My prince, why do you call me shadow. I'm not a shadow," Sonya pouts, grabbing his face, forcing him to turn to her, "I'm a girl."

Daemon's nostrils flare, "my apologies," he places his free hand onto his chest, "little girl."

"I'm not little!"

"Of course, of course, my mistake."

[pandoradoesotherstuff]

A Tight Predicament

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

A/N: Of course my first full Baldur's Gate 3 fic is smut! 😂😂 I didn't want to disappoint anyone. 😏😏

Also, let's just pretend for a minute that Astarion hasn't been sexually traumatised and Gale is less self conscious.

So, this is Gale x Astarion x reader/Tav. I've tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible but reader is described (vaguely) as having female parts down below. (Sorry)

Enjoy!❤️

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

You didn't like separating everyone up. It just made more sense to you to stick together, safety in numbers after all but after clearing out a particularly twisty turny ruin you deemed it safe enough for everyone to do their own thing. Shadowheart backtracked to find a statue of Shar she was sure she had spotted earlier, Gale was one room over checking out some dusty tomes that had been left by the previous occupant and Astarion was behind you working on a particularly tricky lock, murmuring to himself about the want of a skeleton key. Meanwhile, you were sitting on the stone floor trying to wipe the goblin blood off of a new short sword you had found.

It was this particular view that had led you to your current predicament. Out of the corner of your eye, you could have sworn you saw a flash of purple. Curious, and cautious, as to what could have caused such a thing, you get back on your feet and slowly draw back the moth eaten tapestry to reveal a smallish hole in the brickwork. It was the purple robes of Gale you had seen.

"Hey Astarion!" You call softly over your shoulder, signalling for the vampire spawn to join you.

"Mm?" Comes his inquisitive reply, moving to now stand next to you.

"Bet I could reach through and make Gale scream?" The smirk on Astarion's face makes you reconsider your words, quickly interjecting before he could reply. "Not like that!" God's above...I just mean like, you know, a little spook. In general. No other screaming involved." You're looking at anywhere else in the room except at the annoyingly handsome vampire, already feeling your cheeks start to flush red.

"Of course my dear, I'd never dream of suggesting anything else", faux innocence colouring his voice. "But do carry on, I'd love to see that obnoxious wizard cry out for his beloved Mystra". You bristle at the name of Gale's ex-lover but stay silent, instead bending over and bracing yourself on the stone wall.

It was rough on your hands as you carefully pulled yourself through just a little, thankful it was at the perfect height so your feet didn't leave floor.

"Even if you don't succeed in frightening Gale, this view alone is worth it".

You ignore Astarion's flirty comment, shimmying a little further in only to see Gale wasn't quite in your reach just yet. You'd have to move in just a little bit more...

"Merlin's beard!!"

You'd been so busy trying to shuffle further that you hadn't noticed Gale turning around, finally spotting you.

"Hello", you grin sheepishly.

"What in the name of Ao are you doing?!" He asks, pinching the bridge of his nose and snapping the tome shut with the other.

"Isn't it obvious?" Astarion's muffled voice comes through the wall you were currently lodged in. Nervous energy flutters in your stomach as you feel the vampire's hands hold on to your hips lightly. You try to move yourself backwards only to find that you are now completely stuck. You try again, grunting slightly as the jagged solid brick digs into your hips.

"Wait," Astarion begins. Voice barely concealing a laugh as his fingers now begin to creep up under your armoured tunic. "Are you trapped?" He asks incredulously. You cover your face with your hands, a deep blush now settling on your cheeks.

"Yes, okay? Let's not make a big deal out of it". You mumble, trying your best to ignore your occasional lover's adept fingers toying with your belt buckle.

"Are you quite alright?" Gale asks, seemingly genuinely concerned as he leans in slightly for a closer look at the brickwork that had trapped you. Probably already figuring out a magical way to free you.

"I'm fine, despite my...situation. My ego is definitely more bruised than anything." You sigh resignedly.

"Not to worry, between Astarion and myself, I'm sure we'll have you out in a jiffy". Gske smiles reassuringly while crouching down to now be eye level with you.

"Well Gale, let's not be so hasty". Astarion's large hands now squeeze your ass as he talks, you bite your lip trying not to react. "This is a very interesting position our dear fearless leader has found themselves in. It almost seems a waste to not...explore this opportunity to its fullest." Astarion pushes his knee in between your thighs. Gods, this was akin to torture!

"Astarion!" You hiss in warning. Although in warning of what you don't know, it wasn't like you could do much.

"Are you alright? Is he hurting you?" Gale is looking at you so sincerely with those warm brown eyes of his. If this was any other situation, you would have melted. Astarion's laughter snaps you out of your trance, the sound of your belt hitting the floor making you close your eyes in embarrassment.

"You know Gale, it's no secret that you pine after them. We've all seen your lingering stares over the bonfire, bounding after them like an excited little pup. So so eager to please. It's all rather adorable, you know. And to think, Tav here would give you everything if you just asked." Astarion punctuates his words by grinding his knee against your heated core. Gale's eyes noticeably darken as you whimper loudly, hips trying to move against him but finding it impossible. The rogue then continues talking as if nothing was amiss. "They're annoyingly fond of you too. Personally, I don't see it but I am known for my impeccable taste, so make of it what you will I suppose".

There was a beat of silence as the wizard before you tries to take in all that had just happened, his dexterous fingers nervously playing with a little piece of the weave.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to Gale." You say quietly, trying your best to ignore Astarion still pressed tightly behind you. The wizard smiles softly at you, large calloused hand coming up to gently cup your cheek.

"Even in the most compromising position you still try to look after foolish wizards like me."

"Someone's gotta."

His lips touch yours hesitantly, warm and soft, pausing as he waits for you to react. You smile into the kiss as you slowly work your lips together. The tadpole begins to niggle in your brain, you can feel Astarion trying to enter your mind. Gale sighs into your mouth before pulling back slightly to speak. "So impatient," he quietly scolds so only you can hear it. "Let him in then, least we never hear the end of it."

You'll never get used to the gnawing wriggling sensation of connecting to another tadpole, not that you want too. The frown on Gale's face tells you that he too, is seeing the same thing.

It's Astarion's view of you, your belt lying on the floor, armoured tunic bunched above your waist, his knee still firmly pressed against your core. You can feel the heat of arousal radiating from yourself, hear the way your pulse races under your skin. Astarion removes his knee, and you can't help the disappointed mewl that slips out. You both watch as he yanks your leather leggings down, your underclothes barely covering you, slick already dampening the thin fabric. Astarion's voice echos in your mind, as though whispering directly in your ear. "Yes yes, lovely heartfelt confessions all round but-" his fingers teasingly trail over your underclothes causing you to whimper again, the material now clinging to you with wetness. "-I think we all know what we're really thinking about".

The tadpole disengages and you gasp as though resurfacing from being underwater. You open your eyes to see Gale gazing at you with a dark lustful stare.

"I don't usually rush into these types of things. I like to pursue someone romantically first. And yet, now that we're here at this very precipice, at a very crucial part in our relationship. I-"

"-Hells below, Gale!! Would you hurry up and kiss them again already?! How much more of a bloody invitation do you need??"

The wizard rolls his eyes before you quickly reach out and grab his robes, pulling him in for a more passionate kiss. You can't help but whine into his mouth as Astarion behind you slowly pulls down your underclothes, velvet swollen head nudging against your dripping core.

"Please...p-please..." You mutter against Gale's lips before your moan gets swallowed by him as your vampire lover finally pushes inside you, deliciously slowly stretching you around him. His chilled fingers stroke your spine soothingly as his girth strokes your walls expertly at a teasing pace.

"My perfect treasure", he murmurs affectionately. Your fingers thread into Gale's hair, tugging on the silly strands as he kisses you with a passion you didn't quite know he was capable of.

"What...hmph...what do you...what do you need? A-anything".

One idea springs to mind.

"Stand up." You pull back, panting a little, teeth biting at your bottom lip as Astarion picks up the pace a little, his hands now gripping your hips tightly.

"Now what?" The wizard's voice was husky with lust, his lips kiss swollen.

You hungrily reach for the snaps that hold back what you so eagerly wanted, making short work of them. There's a pause as you lock eyes, an understanding flits between you.

"Are you sure?" He asks softly. You can only nod, not trusting your voice to do anything but whine and whimper from the rogue's short shallow thrusts behind you.

"As you wish." Gale hesitates, a look of self-consciousness crossing his face for a second before finally freeing himself from the tight confines of his trousers. Your breath catches in your throat, his girth was impressive to say the least.

"Gods Gale!" Comes Astarion's voice from through the wall. "I don't know what the bloody hells you did to them, but keep doing it!"

You feel a blush on your cheeks deepen, from lust or from Astarion's comment you don't know. Gale gently cups your chin, looking more than a little pleased with himself, as he guides his thick hard cock closer towards you. Your mouth waters as you kitten lick his swollen head, precum salty and surprisingly delicious on your tongue. Gale watches you with a dark intensity as you grab his hips and slowly pulled him deeper into your throat a little at a time. He wasn't as long as Astarion but definitely girthier, you focus on swallowing around him, trying hard not to choke. His dexterous fingers tangle in your hair, petting you encouragingly as he begins to move his hips slowly at first. You've never felt so full or satisfied in your life. Two exceedingly handsome men filling you up over and over again. You can only imagine how lewd you must look like that, so different from your usual composed and in control leader role.

Whether it was you, Astarion or Gale you don't know but once again you feel the tadpole connect. It almost felt like it shivered with pleasure

You can feel yourself getting filled up over and over again, taste the salty precum on your tongue, feel the heat and slick of your fluttering walls surround Astarion, feel your own throat swallow around Gale, choking on his thickness.

Both men are caught up in the multihood of sensations flooding their senses, using your body to chase their own pleasure as your thighs shake and your fingers grasp onto the purple robes of Gale tightly. Your moans and whines are muffled around the taller man as you feel the rogue's clever fingers rub at your clit perfectly, urging you closer to the end.

"Cum f-for me, for us! Cum for u-us our b-beloved!"

Pleasure ahoots through your entire body, nerves on fire as stars burst before your eyes and you almost feel light headed. Astarion's quick sharp thrusts stutter behind you into a frenzied arrhythmic pace, groaning low in his throat as he empties himself into you, fingers gripping bruises onto your skin. Gale's hands tangle in your hair, nails scraping your scalp, your name slipping out from between his lips like the sweetest prayer. You bring a shakey hand up to his heavy balls, lightly squeezing and fondling them, urging him to paint your throat white. With a strangled noise from Gale, you feel them draw up tight as the taste of his seed fills your mouth and dribbles out the corner of your lips.

You don't get a second to bask in the glow of your filthy but fun act before Shadowheart's haughty voice yells from a distance.

"I know you said we should 'stick together' but I didn't realise you meant that close! Now if you're all finished, we have a tadpole that needs removing!"

You've never wanted the ground to swallow you up more in your life.

[vampirehizzies]

TRICK OR TREAT!! 🍬🦇👻

sooooo i finally got started on the treemina/haysilee/clato oneshot, here's the treech pov part:

one day you'll understand why (everything you touch surely dies)

Three different Games, three boys. Separated across generations, they each stare in dismay at a dying peer (or an ally, a partner, a friend, something more, something less, nothing really, but also somehow everything) with racing hearts beating in denial and rage, frantic thoughts of it's not supposed to be like this running through their minds.

The story ends the same every time.

-

Treech catches fleeting glimpses of Lamina's frizzed unkempt halo of fiery red hair, like a starburst dancing in the corner of his eye, and can't help but think of blood.

He has never seen it in person, at least not on a regular basis, and not in copious amounts. Working weekend shifts at the warehouse, packing and sorting boxes of paper for shipment to the Capitol, put him only at risk of paper cuts, and he's never even had a scraped knee. The Dark Days are so far back in his memory they are almost a fairy tale, and he never even saw a dead body. Blood might not be a familiar sight to him, but he would imagine that he is about to see enough of it in the next few days to last him a lifetime.

A lifetime - he no longer has the luxury of assuming he has any such thing.

Not one to indulge morbid, despairing thoughts, he instead returns his focus to sneaking furtive side glances at the girl seated next to him on the rock. A complete stranger, but she's the only one he's familiar with, the last piece of home Treech has left, and honestly, she's actually quite captivating - in a morose, pitiful way.

Her breaths are noisy and ragged, thick with congestion from her sobbing. Tear tracks flow in rivers down her cheeks, creating smooth lines of pale skin, the water carving little paths of cleanliness that cut through the dirt scattered on her face. Lamina reminds him of a broken bird, and that's not a kind or fair thought to have, but it is the first comparison that comes to mind when he sees her, with her tangled hair and gaunt cheeks and shaking fists.

It isn't as if he judges her to be weak - Treech himself is terrified out of his mind, his fear gathering in his chest in a cloud of smoke and constricting his lungs with a vise grip until inhaling and exhaling becomes a laborious task. He can feel his own heart fighting to stay alive, beating rapidly like a wild animal being hunted. It takes every last remaining semblance of restraint he still has to not reach through the bars of this cage and strangle a Capitolite who got too close, act exactly like the beast they clearly saw him as.

However, isn't it better to at least pretend? To face reality with unflinching stoicism, formulate a logical plan to get back to his family, rather than only fixate on his impending doom?

From Lamina's tremulous sniffles, it is apparent she disagrees. He wonders, out of curiosity, how long she'll last in the Games - the Arena doesn't seem like a place where the weeping Tributes come out winners.

On his eighth side-glance, which he mistakenly believed to be sufficiently well-timed enough to be inconspicuous, she finally faces him, meeting his eyes with her own. He's surprised to find that they are a stunning brown, like the soft foamy soil underneath his feet, or the bark of a healthy young tree. Her gaze sears into him, youthful and innocent and inquisitive, reminiscent of a deer who is aware that it is about to become some predator's meal.

He could tear his eyes away, make the wise decision to ignore her for the rest of their extremely limited and most likely unpleasant time together. Nonetheless, his body inexplicably refuses to force himself away from her.

She looks back, unashamed, and her mouth parts hesitantly, words just cresting over the tip of her tongue and begging to be released, before she seals her lips together and thinks better of it. Treech could ask her what she wanted to say, but he doubts it matters at this point.

He could also indulge the impulse he has to run his thumb along the smudges of thick dust collecting on her face, wipe away this girl's tears and put her back together into something recognizable as joyful and healed, bring her a peace he can't find for himself.

Treech does no such thing.

They stare at one another for the last time as he prepares to abandon her for a larger alliance (his heart and brain and body scream conflicting arguments at him, but he's more inclined to follow whichever act allows him to leave this Arena alive - in summary, brain wins this one even if his heart hurts more than ever before, spasming painfully against his ribs).

He reasons with himself that it is better this way, if only so he can spare himself the fate of going mad with guilt. Because if he allows himself to stay with this strange girl, he'll come dangerously close to caring, and no one won the Games by actually giving a damn about their District partner. Already, she exerts some sort of gravitational pull on him, and he has known her for... a week? If that. Lamina has an uncanny ability to make him want to be closer to her, to know her even just a little more than he does now before he dies, and that simply would not do. These fickle thoughts and wants had no place in the Arena.

She looks visibly wounded, stricken by his betrayal, and he suddenly hates himself for that, but survival has far more appeal, even if it tastes like ashes and regret.

[vxxxb]

Strings Unbound - [Miguel O'Hara]

Just felt like writing; Small one-shot -- What more can you do but deal with unrequited love? Tags: Unrequited love, angst, no comfort, readers perspective, implied sexual content 1.263k words

“No strings attached.”

That’s what you both said.

Your agreement was straightforward; Whoever sought release, the other would be there — Plain and simple. Whether it was boredom, stress, or anger, things were purely physical. Explanations weren’t needed for a momentary fuck.

A mutual understanding.

So why, despite knowing all of that, did you manage to foolishly blur the lines in a dynamic solely for sex?

Somewhere along the way, you lost hold of what you were feeling, the very aspect of it frustrating you. One moment everything was fine, and the next you were hoping for something more with your boss.

For someone whose behavior consistently involved brooding and mild bitterness, Miguel’s mannerisms behind closed doors were different. You still recalled the first time you had done anything with him. Though his presence remained domineering and demanding, every move he made held such attentiveness and care that even you couldn’t help the sparks that charged through your heart. 

Everything Miguel did brought on a new desire for him; His touch against your skin was addictive, his fingers intricately exploring every inch of you, always satisfying the pleasure you were craving. And with every action he made, his hold on you was desperate and primal, like he wanted to ensure every part of him was engraved onto you.

Who wouldn’t eventually fall victim to the delusions of requited love?

But reality was cruel, and no matter how you looked at it, you knew you had inevitably doomed yourself to this one-sided longing.

The pang of heartache that unfurled within your chest as you took sight of him next to her only served as an additional reminder of where you stood with him.

You took note of the genuine smile that settled on his face as he spoke with her. How his hand tenderly lingered on the delicate frame of her shoulder while she gazed at him with caring eyes — A motion that seemed to ease him further in her company.

As you hesitated at the entrance, heart pounding and fingers clutching your report, Peter's inquisitive gaze nudged you out of your trance. 

Deliberately you cleared your throat, summoning a strained smile as you approached Miguel, eyes trying yet failing to avoid meeting hers. "Apologies for the interruption just came to deliver this."

The faint waver in your voice only made you cringe.

You try your best not to acknowledge her, hoping to leave before ever speaking with her, but lately, nothing seemed to go your way. 

Miguel brings her forward. "Allow me to introduce our new interdimensional liaison. She's finally agreed to operate from headquarters."

The innocent woman extends her hand, a warm smile lighting up her face as she greets you. You feel tense, and although the last thing you want is to be near her, you reciprocate the greeting with a gentle welcome. 

Throughout it all, you could feel Miguel’s gaze on you. You choose to ignore it.

You study her a moment longer, a realization dawning on you. "You're not-"

"Just an ordinary human," She interjects, a soft chuckle already forming.

Peter couldn't suppress his surprised reaction. He was well aware, just as you were, that Miguel had never before permitted individuals, especially ones without spider-like abilities, to enter headquarters. Nor had he ever shown such persistent interest in involving a human within its operations.

So why her? 

As Peter absentmindedly took hold of the recruit, you remained beside Miguel, your expectant gaze meeting his weary eyes. You weren't entirely sure what you were hoping for, but as you stood there, the instinctive urge to connect with him was clear.

Your hand barely grazed his.

And his response was a deliberate flinch. He recoiled at your touch.

Your heart tightened.

"Don’t do that," He murmured, eyes briefly meeting yours before drifting off to her again. 

Your eyes never left his form as you watched him approach her. Every move he made was meticulous while interacting with her. Simply seeing how careful he was around her hurt. 

You couldn’t help the bittersweet smile that graced your lips. It was almost ironic -- Miguel seemed to connect more readily with a regular, vulnerable human than he ever would with you. 

Then again, why would he? 

She wasn't like the rest of you. She wasn't fated to endure the repercussions of canons or the anguish of losing loved ones. She simply exuded hope and radiance, qualities that Miguel so desperately yearned for. Qualities that you and he had gradually relinquished over time. Qualities you two couldn't offer each other.

In other words, you weren’t enough.

Without uttering another word, you leave, purposefully avoiding the urge to glance back even as Peter called after you, all the while missing the look of uncertainty and hesitation Miguel gave you as you left.

The tears in your eyes stung as you walked through the lobby. Deep down, you knew you had to move on, to somehow quell those feelings that had led you down a path of unrequited love.

After all, why would Miguel O'Hara ever invest the time to come to love you in the same measure?

Given the choice, why would he choose you and not her?

In your daze, you collided with someone, a pair of hands instinctively grabbing your shoulders.

You recognized them — An alternate spider variant that had previously shown romantic interest in you. They liked you, genuinely liked you, and their fondness for you was evident in the concerned look they wore.

Looking up at them, you unconsciously grip their arms, face burying against their chest as a silent plea between you. You needed a distraction, a way to redirect your thoughts, and you knew they'd willingly provide it.

It didn’t take long before you were swept up and taken to their quarters. And while your conscience pushed for rationality, your heart yielded to your impulsive desires, lips immediately latching onto theirs with a yearning to be held.

All because you needed him out of your mind. 

All because you didn’t know how to stay away.

Even now, it was Miguel you pictured holding your waist. It was his hands you were pushing yourself into, his body you were pressing against as you whined at the welcoming warmth. It was Miguel you were pushing onto the bed as you desperately climbed onto his lap, hips instinctively grinding and rubbing with fervorous motion.

In your mind, it was Miguel tenderly kissing down your neck. It was his lips urgently claiming you and nipping bruises down your skin. It was him laying you gently on the bed, him murmuring those sweet words into your ear as both your moans echoed throughout the room from the adrenaline of pleasure. 

It was Miguel.

Miguel.

Miguel. 

“Stay with me…” You whimpered in a soft moan.

You clenched your eyes shut, desperately holding on to your fantasy — It’s all you would ever have of him. 

A single tear fell from your eye, the remaining heartache coming to a cold numbing reluctance to something pitiful as rejection.

You wanted him. 

You needed him.

With every thrust, your head would spin, all because of him. No amount of pleasure was going to overpower that. 

You loved him.

Reaching your climax, the ripple of mixed gasps of heartache and pleasure that escaped you allowed you to breathe.

You knew this changed nothing. You knew you’d still have to face Miguel the next day.

But what more could you do than delude yourself into thinking this was the solution?

In the end, all you had was regret.

[sasslett]

FFXKV Write 2024 Day 5: Stamp

“Comet.”

The young fledgling merely kweh’d at the sound of her name… ignoring the irritation of her owner’s tone as she peered innocently at the woman kneeling before her. 

“This would go much faster if you would just stand still,” Jess huffed, glaring at the red chocobo as she dipped her rag into the bucket of soapy water once more. “It's just a bit of water, it won't-”

Despite the assurances, Comet didn't quite seem to agree, as she skittered away to the far end of her straw-laden stall the second she caught sight of the wet rag coming towards her. 

What little there was of Jess’ patience had worn dangerously thin after a morning of chasing the chick around the stall. And so the woman reached forward, firmly grasping the chocobo’s halter and tugging her towards the bucket. 

“Comet, you are getting a bath today, one way or another,” the woman grunted through gritted teeth. With the small chick held firmly in place, she used her free hand to wet her rag once more - only for Comet to kweh in protest and lift her foot high in the air… stamping it down to the ground, her talon catching the edge of the bucket and sending the soapy water flying towards Jess.

It took her a moment to process what had happened, as the cool water flooded over her… and it was all she could do to laugh, releasing her hold on her bird as she flopped back down in the straw. 

Maybe, just this once, she'd admit defeat. 

And as Comet strode over to stare down at her owner inquisitively, Jess merely shook her head.

“You're a stubborn little thing, aren't you? But, then again, if you weren't… you wouldn't be mine, now would you?”

[walkingstackofbooks]

Inquisition, but with added angst...

What if Sloan's objective in Inquisition wasn't to recruit Julian, but to break him so he'd sign away his rights and let himself be incarcerated. For the protection of the Federation of course.

And what could break our doctor more than believing he's responsible for killing one of his friends...?

--

Julian woke up in a cell so small that even sitting up, he didn’t quite fit on the bench. The Defiant’s brig. They must have rescued him from Weyoun… and then put him here? He struggled to put his last few flashes of memory together; the Vorta had tried to convince him he was a spy, which had made him realised that it was Sloan who was the real traitor. Then Jadzia, Kira and Worf had beamed in, and he’d gone to grab the Cardassian’s weapon and then… nothing. Until waking up here. He guessed he must have hit his head, or been shot, or something – but there was no lingering pain anywhere, no indication of what might have caused his unconsciousness.

It didn’t really matter. The important thing was to tell Captain Sisko as soon as possible about what had happened – that Sloan could not be trusted. Julian was well aware of how this must have looked to his captain, but Sisko was fair; he knew he would be heard out.

Someone was standing on guard, but had placed themselves just to the side of the forcefield, so it impossible for Julian to make out anything more about them than their presence. “Can you tell Captain Sisko I’m awake? Please. I need to speak to him,” he asked whoever it was.

They didn’t respond. Automatically, Julian rapped on the forcefield with his fists – and then pulled them away quickly with a stifled cry, rubbing them where they’d been stung. The forcefield shimmered and stuttered for a few seconds, but the guard either had not noticed, or did not care.

“Hello? Please, it’s really important that Captain Sisko hears this,” Julian tried again, loud and demanding. He needed to relay what he had learnt, and he allowed his righteous anger to seep into his words. “I am still his Chief Medical Officer, you have no right—”

He stopped, hearing the crewman activate their combadge. “Kira to Sisko,” she said. “He’s woken up.”

In the brief silence that followed, Julian’s mind raced. It was Kira? And she was just ignoring him? He really had thought that his friends, at least, would know he’d never betray them, even if Sisko had to weigh up all the options as captain. Did his situation look that suspicious?

Sisko’s voice filtered back through the badge. “I’ll speak to him after,” the captain said. Julian could hear the frown in his voice, and shivered at the coldness of it. “I’m needed here. Tell him whatever you think is necessary. Sisko out.”

“Nerys, you need to listen to me—” Julian stopped as she swung round to meet his gaze. Kira was smiling, but there was no warmth to it. Her eyes were alight with anger, and Julian stepped back in alarm.

“I need to listen to you?” Kira said, lips curling in disdain. “Doctor, I’m really not sure that I’d believe anything you’d say right now, so don’t waste your breath.”

Julian looked at her in astonishment. “Kira, I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m innocent!” he exclaimed. “You can’t just– I’ve been framed, Sloan’s the traitor, he’s working with them…”

Some sort of half-laugh broke out of Kira, and she spat on the ground in front of his cell. “Was it Sloan who shot Jadzia, Julian? Do remind me.”

Julian faltered for a moment, struggling to comprehend what Kira had said. “Jadzia was shot?” he replied, heart pounding, stumbling over his words. “Is she alright? I should be in the Medbay, with her – why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because youshot her, Doctor!” Kira said incredulously, as though it was a fact, and not some insane accusation. “Stop pretending you don’t know that you’re the reason she’s probably going to—” She broke off, punching the wall next to her in frustration. “Dammit, Nerys,” she whispered, low enough that Julian was sure he wasn’t meant to hear. “Don’t cry yet.” Turning away from him, she returned to where she’d previously been stood, out of Julian’s sight.

Terror flooded him. “Kira,” he said urgently, moving as close as he could to the forcefield. “Kira, please. Tell me Jadzia’s alright.”

“You shot her in the stomach, Julian,” came the quiet response. “A perfect shot, you got Dax, too. No, she’s not “alright”. You made sure of that.”

Julian couldn’t breathe. He stumbled back, legs bumping into the bench behind him, causing him to fall onto it. This was a nightmare, Jadzia couldn’t be dying, this couldn’t be happening.

Except it was.

“I-- I didn’t do it, Kira,” he said, desperately. “I don’t know what you saw, but I didn’t—you know I’d never hurt her—I didn’t shoot her, Nerys, I couldn’t, I didn’t.” Surely, surely, even if part of him was working for the Dominion, that was still true. He was a doctor, he was Jadzia’s friend, he didn’t go around murdering people.

Kira had snatched up a PADD from the monitoring station, and released the forcefield for a few seconds to shove it into Julian’s hands. It was displaying the security feed for the Medbay, and Julian could see Jadzia lying on a biobed: Worf was holding her hands on one side, Sisko stood rigid on the other.

“I wish I could believe you,” Kira said. “But I saw you tackle that Cardassian for his phaser; I saw you aim at Jadzia and I watched as you fired. Then Worf launched himself at you, tackled you to the ground, and we got out of there. There’s no uncertainty here, Julian. The person we put behind that forcefield is the same person who shot Jadzia.”

“Me,” whispered Julian. It still didn’t make sense, he still couldn’t remember anything; it was impossible to believe that he’d been broken, that he was suffering from “engrammatic dissociation”, that any of this was real. He’d been so certain that Sloan and Weyoun had been working together in some grand scheme against him.

But maybe the simpler explanation was true. He was a traitor.

His hands were shaking – no, his whole body was shaking – and his breaths were coming in short, sharp pants, faster and faster. “I-- I don’t remember,” he said, aching to be believed in this, at least. “I really don’t remember. Please, Major. I didn’t know. I didn’t, I—I swear…” He was clutching at the PADD as though it was a lifeline, although he could barely make out the figures on the screen, no matter how many tears he blinked away.

“I can’t do this,” he heard Kira say, followed by the tap of her combadge again. “Kira to Security. I need someone – no, two people – down at the brig.”

He didn’t bother trying to speak to her again as they waited for security to relieve her. What would be the point? Instead, he let the cell around him grow blurry and floaty and distant, trying to get as far away from his own thoughts as he could. But it didn’t take long for his new guards to arrive, and the sound of footsteps and voices brought him back to himself.

He had expected Kira to leave without another word to him, but as she neared the door, she turned back, looking at him fiercely.

“I should have listened when Starfleet told us you were dangerous,” she said bitterly. “If you’d been locked away a year ago…” Leaving the thought hanging there, she shook her head, and made her exit.

Julian could fill in the blanks. If I’d been locked away a year ago, Jadzia wouldn’t be dying. If I hadn’t fought so hard against Sloan, I wouldn’t have shot her. If I hadn’t been so arrogant, thinking I was the exception, a “good” augment, thinking that I could never be turned—

A faint, deep yell came through the corridors, and Julian’s eyes snapped to the PADD. Sisko was now holding Jadzia’s hand, his head bent low, whereas Worf was standing up, head thrown back as he bellowed to the heavens. The PADD dropped from Julian’s hands as he fell to his knees on the floor. His head knocked against the forcefield as he went down, but he didn’t care. No physical discomfort could ever compete with the hollow emptiness that consumed him in that instant, and he was lost to despair.

--

(Having said I wouldn't start working on anything that wasn't my Miles-keeps-dying fic [and yes, okay, I do love making Julian watch his friends die, shhh], I haven't been able to stop thinking about this since chatting with @fuzzyhairedfreak the other day - it's not quite what I had in mind then, but I blame your post for setting the brainworms in motion :P it's been very fun to write though, so thanks!)

[solas-backpack-mug]

Six-song soundtrack

Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following:

An event that defines your character's past

How your character sees themselves

How others view them

Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

A major fight scene

End credits song

tagged by @herearedragons, thanks <3

also thanks for introducing me to two of the songs i chose

songs for my beloved watcher rangi (with her past life asaria as a part of her)

An event that defines your character's past: Torches - The Oh Hellos

How your character sees themselves: The Calling - The Amazing Devil

How others view them: Rule #9 - Child of the Stars - Fish in a Birdcage

Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic): Inkpot Gods - The Amazing Devil

A major fight scene: The Horror and the Wild - The Amazing Devil

End credits song: Queen of Peace - Florence + the Machine

An event that defines your character's past

Torches - The Oh Hellos

I got a venom like a snake running out of my mouth

(Running out of my mouth, running out of my mouth)

It's got you burning at the stake

Innocent or not, you're not a bet I care to take

And Father Ignorance will make brothers of us all

(Brothers of us all, brothers of us all)

As he sets our torch aflame

Chasing down the flimsy specters that we co-create

^ reference to asaria's past as an inquisitor and the inquisition as a whole, with thaos mention

Mother Fortuna, O, she makes sisters of us all

(Sisters of us all, sisters of us all)

When the faces in her wake

Look more like our own than the effigies we immolate

^ iovara mention here!!! @herearedragons made BEAUTIFUL art with lyrics from this song during artfight <3

How your character sees themselves

The Calling - The Amazing Devil

this song right here is a #1 rangi song. the first time i listened to it i was amazed by how well some lines fit rangi, especially during the first game

Back then, I was dauntless

And dawn could never know

And my weakness made me weep less

Than I would ever show youI'd burn so bright it blinded

Now I know that light guided me here

^ mention of eothas, and reference to asaria being a dawn godlike and eothas' priestess. asaria did also use blind people with her godlike glow as a punishment for people perceived as heretics by the inquisition

I look into the waters and see a face I don't recognize

Who's this? (Who are you?)

"What changed?" I ask

"So strange, " she replies

^ mention of rangi's messy awakening!!!

How others view them

Rule #9 - Child of the Stars - Fish in a Birdcage

this song is eothas pov, directed towards asaria - his first daughter.

I remember your eyes were clear

Brighter than the sun

^ reference to asaria being dawn godlike

I could only lead you so far

I believe in who you are

^ eothas' hope for asaria and wanting her to live independently

Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

Inkpot Gods - The Amazing Devil

this one is for the relationship with iovara after the final confrontation with thaos <3 some parts are iovara pov and some are rangi pov

And what you see is not the dark

It's just the gods upturning ink pots 'cause they know what you'll become

And to those gods, I will speak bluntly

"We've an accord, if you ever touch or harm him

Please, rest assured that you might not fear a man

But to a woman, by the end, you'll kneel and plea

first part - reference to iovara imprisoned in sun-in shadow. second part - rangi WOULD say that to the gods in defense of iovara.

If I don't make it back from where I've gone

Just know I loved you all along

this, repeated over and over at the end!!! this fits for both of them <3

A major fight scene

The Horror and the Wild - The Amazing Devil

this one is about rangi vs thaos. it fits more in vibes than lyrics. the best line is this:

Think of all the horrors that I promised you I'd bring

I promise you, they'll sing of every time

You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child

Witness me, old man, I am the wild

End credits song

Queen of Peace - Florence + the Machine

Oh, the king

Gone mad within his suffering

Called out for relief

Someone cure him of his grief

His only son

Cut down, but the battle won

Oh, what is it worth?

When all that's left is hurt

^ this is EXACTLY what happened with od nua when his son maros nua died in battle, which led to engwithan research in animancy. it works very well with poe lore but it's especially fitting for rangi as an animancer and one of the most important engineers working on fixing the wheel

Like the stars chase the sun

Over the glowing hill, I will conquer

Blood is running deep

Some things never sleep

^ mention of eothas and a vague reference to gods' secrets

tagging @adozentothedawn @sun-marie @ampleappleamble <3

[leastdatablebracket]

QUARTERFINALS, MATCH 4

Propaganda under the cut!

Joseph Christiansen

Propaganda

So many reasons. He's already married, he's a jerk to his wife, he's already slept with at least one of the other romance options. That romance option goes to you before a date with Jospeh and damn near begs you not to be stupid and go with him. The worst part? You put up with all this and he leaves you to "work things out with his wife". She deserves so much better than him! One of the writers even said he's a sociopath. 

Married and a youth minister.

Cheater, cringe man, father of creepy children, possibly evil cultist, left a guy feeling used which said guy also became friends with Joseph's wife who appears to be an alcoholic likely as a coping mechanism since she's married to Joseph

He cheats on his wife, has done so before, lies to you by claiming that he's going to leave his wife when he clearly never intends to (and, in one ending, will even cheerfully suggest that you two continue having an affair in an extremely sleazy way), and judging by the fact that the other guy we know he cheated on his wife with, Robert, hates Joseph and is now very close friends with his wife, it seems clear to me that this whole "purposefully mislead someone into sleeping with you and then later drop the bomb that it was an affair" thing is repeat behavior with him. Also, I just find much of his behavior to be very manipulative and controlling; there are many situations where it seems to me that he's actively trying to paint others in a negative light while still coming off as saintly himself, such as an early scene where he subtly implies his wife is a shitty mom because she *checks notes* let their toddler out of her sight... during a neighborhood barbecue in a fenced-in yard surrounded by trusted adults and other kids. Also notice how in this scene he pushes *her* to go look for their son, rather than just looking himself, all while keeping up his "long-suffering husband" act. (and in other scenes can be found letting his other young children wander off into the woods with sharp implements and visibly not caring, but whatever). He does this with Robert, too -- the other guy he had an affair with. Almost everything he says about or to Robert is a subtle jab about his personality or his alcoholism. Classy, Joseph. Meanwhile, the fact that you can't actually end up with him in the end (because he was never going to leave his wife for you) started some of the most volatile discourse in the fandom and had people calling the devs homophobic and claiming they were spreading a message about "gay men needing to stay in loveless abusive marriages to women" (just ignore the fact that there are several other divorced gay dads in this game who all have great relationships with their kids and are not demonized in the slightest). HOWEVER, if you see people claiming he's a cultist or demon or something, that's untrue and was just going to be a non-canon spooky alternate ending that ended up getting cut. So I empathize with him a little bit for getting literally demonized by some fans for that cut alt ending. But he loses all those points by cheating on his wife multiple times and showing clear intent to continue doing so.

He's still married when you start dating him. He's also got like 5 kids that are some "children of the corn" kinda shit, and all their names have "Christ" in them

You don't even get to date him he's still married to his wife who he doesn't get along with. Tragic really

Cullen Rutherford

Propaganda

stupid racist cop creep whose fans cry about how hes "changed" and "you can't judge him he was addicted to magic drugs" nah he still chose to be a racist cop and abuse his power over innocent people and i hate him. the writers making him romanceable in da:i after how blatantly horrible he was in da:o and da:2 is baffling but i guess they had to appeal to the part of their audience who watch those "mafia boyfriend" videos on tiktok or whatever

He's creepy in origins, though still 100% willing to kill the female mage pc he's crushing on, as well as all the other mages trapped in the circle with him. He's the second-in-command in an even worse circle in 2, listening to and defending the increasingly obviously insane meredith until literally the end. He's one of the people still pushing for the circle system by inquisition, and yes he's going through withdrawals and working through the traumas of previous games. And to be brutally honest his was the first romance i took and while i don't remember much from it, its not worth all the girls going absolutely nuts over knockoff terrible alistair.

He's basically a cop who thinks being born a certain way can revoke personhood and by Inquisition still thinks mages are monsters to be controlled, not people. He gets a fairy tale cutesy romance that focuses on his personal struggles with addiction while showing absolutely no regard to the atrocities he committed and still thinks were justified. He can be romanced BY A MAGE and his actions and beliefs are just glossed over. He believes mages are 'not people like you (Hawke) and me', but if the Warden was a female mage he canonically had a crush on her and would deliberately hang around her despite the fact that he was her *jailer*. If that Warden romanced Leliana, there is war table dialogue in which he pesters Leliana for news of his 'former' crush despite her repeated statement that she doesn't want to talk to him about her. All this shitty behavior and lack of introspection gets swept under the rug by the game, not even giving the PC the chance to really challenge his beliefs. Like damn even Fenris could apologize when he lashed out due to past trauma with mages, and if anyone has a reason to hate mages it's Fenris. If you want an ex Templar hottie Alistair is RIGHT THERE. Tbh I know Cullen is a popular romance and I'm not here to tell anyone what they can or can't do or like in a video game, I'm just saying I think he is deeply undateable

Spends the first two games as an antagonist, fervently devoted to the cause of subjugating mages, then a bunch of "character development" happens off screen and the games treat him like he's completely reformed. However he's actions make it clear he still sees mages as dangerous and lesser. Not to mention if you romance him with an elf he doesn't pay your culture more than lip service respect like most of the devout characters 

He was a total villain in the first two games who was violently prejudiced against mages and uses one single bad experience as an excuse for it (a bad experience that is pretty much exactly what he in his job subjected graduating apprentices to, mind you, but this is never brought up). Now he says he's changed, but his words and actions say otherwise. He still distrusts mages, sympathises with the rebel Templars trying to kill them, and he never owns up to the terrible stuff he did and helped others do in the past two games. He totally knew what Meredith was doing and says he doesn't, and he still tries to defend her intentions. And you have no option to call him out on it. If you romance him as a mage, he angsts about how he might have seen you as subhuman in the past but NOW you're one of the good ones, and when you ask him if he'll kill you if you get possessed, he dodges the question. And the PC is written as being almost sad that she's a mage? Like 'can you love me despite what I am??' Also if Leliana romanced a female mage PC in the first game who is still alive, he asks her creepy questions about their relationship. Fitting considering his original purpose was to be creepy to the female mage Warden. 

I hate him and want to cause chaos. Plus his VA is an asshole.

Cop

I think you covered almost everything but don't forget that beautiful moment in DA2 - Act 2 where you find out some templars had a petition to lobotomize all mages and Meredith, THE HARDCORE TEMPLAR LEADER, rejects it, but Cullen says they got a point. Despite the fact that we just found out that those templars were using lobotomy (or the threat of) to rape people and get away with it. And then Cullen in DA:I is whining that anything that happened it's not his fault because Meredith kept the worse away form him so he didn't know, but also that anyway Meredith had a point and did what she had to do. Meredith does not go mad until Act 3, before she was of sound mind and Culllen was her second in command BECAUSE he hated mages as much as (or even more) than her. What the FUCK did she even hide from you, Cullen. Oh, but he changed! Because the writers make A VICTIM OF THE TEMPLARS say so. And anyway he only says so BECAUSE HE READS MINDS not because Cullen did anything to show it. Also the narrative wants to sympathise with Cullen for his drug problems while Cullen is openly attacking the only other character with the same problem for...having the same problem. And he's the antagonist, so there were OTHER things Cullen could be mad about. But he is mad about the drug problem. Also I'm not an expert on writing characters with addictions but he is an addict only when it's time to have a cut scene where you pity him. Otherwise it has zero impacts on everything else.

[randomfoggytiger]

"Your Ideas Are Weirder than Ours"

(Fictober, Day 29)

I think it's time The Lone Gunmen got some love.

*****

“Hey, guys look who it is-- Aftershave and Autopsy.” 

“Har, har. Let us in, fellas.” 

Langly, amicable, propped open the door wide enough for his visitors to pass before shutting, locking, and bolting it behind them; then he strolled-- bobbed, really, like a lackadaisical robin-- deeper into the bowels of The Lone Gunman headquarters in their wake. 

“Byers, what can you tell us about this?” Scully, business as usual-- a little more brusque than normal; Mulder, reticent as usual-- even more withdrawn than normal. Both of them, Byers and Frohike noticed (and Langly obliviously missed), avoiding direct eye contact with each other.

Byers reached across for Agent Scully’s evidence as Frohike reached over to turn off Langly's tape. Langly himself found some place to land, kick his feet up, and look inquisitively from one set of friends to the other.  

“It looks like, uh….” Byers paused, picking his words carefully. He raised his eyebrows. “Like--”

“Like nothing.” Scully stuck her chin out-- further, all three bachelors noticed, than it already was-- and burrowed her crossed arms even deeper in her trench coat. (Byers logged it in its proper terms, Frohike mentally called it a raincoat, and Langly’s brain was stuck on the double word ‘coat coat.’) “Like this whole hoax was a farce to begin with. Like I said before we left Washington, D.C. three days ago.” 

Mulder was looking less reticent and more… frustrated, petulant, sulky. “Could you guys put that under one of your doodads before you reach a conclusion? Because that would be very helpful to our current investigation.” 

Agent Scully outright snorted. 

Frohike was in love; and Langly was this close to picking on him before Byers called “Langly, little help here” from his tactical retreat clear across the room. He shifted over, and Frohike scuttled over, and Mulder stomped over; and Scully, scowling for a good five minutes in the corner, finally huffed over. 

The Lone Gunman all made cooperative, neutral, or disengaged noises at the appropriate moments, ignoring the heat of Mulder and Scully’s sneak glares at each other. But all reprieves must come to an end: they froze collectively, looked at each other, and turned their faces back towards their friends.

“Mulder, it’s a fake. An obvious one.” Frohike scowled at his scrumptious favorite and her hapless hero. 

Mulder didn’t say anything, choosing to tighten his jaw rather than commenting on the obvious. Scully’s chin couldn’t stick out further, but she did tilt it at an alarmingly condescending angle. 

“Thank you,” she said, hitting the ‘k’ with punctuating emphasis. 

“What’s this about? You two stumble across some genuine fakes?” Langly couldn’t understand how an innocent question made all four turn on him with derision or disdain. 

“...No.” Mulder admitted. Reluctantly. “Just someone I thought I could trust.” 

“Again.” 

All three men didn’t attempt to guess who had backstabbed, wheedled, then backstabbed Mulder again this time, focusing instead on more productive activities: circumspectly avoiding Scully’s ire and Mulder’s mood until the two of them left. 

“Well, we’re sorry we couldn’t help out more with the… investigation,” Byers hemmed, delicately waving the paper back at the agents. Waiting only long enough for one of them-- Mulder-- to grab it, he hurried on. “But I’m sure you and Agent Scully have a lot of work to do, still, and maybe even a long drive back to the office to, um, file your reports--” 

“Thank you for your time, guys,” Scully jumped in, putting them all out of their misery by leading the charge back to the door. Mulder muttered something unintelligible, nodded at them, and trailed after her. 

Langly followed suit, unbolting, unlocking, and opening the door; then repeated his previous actions in reverse, shutting out their friendly outsiders for the night. Whistling his way back to the interior, he caught Byers and Frohike exchanging furtive, brooding looks. 

“What?” 

Byers shook his head while Frohike waved him off. “Forget it, Blondie. You wouldn’t get it.” 

“Says who, short Squatch?”

Byers went to bed when the bickering escalated, determining not to close up shop like usual. Let them pick up the slack for once.

******

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event