#so why would you expect different from us

[dollyichi]

I JUST GOT A CRUSH! ᯓ★ katsuki bakugou x f ! reader. 1.02k words / fluff / not proofread

bakugou is bad at social media. not exactly terrible, yet not so great either.

he really doesn’t care too much for it nor does he use it that often but he’s not that unfamiliar with it. he finds himself being on tiktok from time to time though he never really bothered to make it known that he had an account in the first place, just enjoying whatever he comes across and liberally blocks accounts that come up on his fyp that pissed him off. he never posts anything either so it didn’t matter. it’s a typical account with a generated username and a blank profile, 57 following, 0 followers.

recently he found a video that he wanted to share (an edit made by a fan) and posts the link on twitter, alongside saying how ‘it’s real sick’ of them to make that for him. he didn’t even know videos like that were famous. the effort and skill it took made him think it were cool.

what he also didn’t know, was that his profile would be revealed when you press on the link.

he got so confused when his account suddenly gained so many followers in just two days since he ‘never mentioned it.’ that was until he sees the replies on his tweet that the linked he used to share got him exposed.

he checks it out for himself which proved that he did actually share his account without knowing, but it’s ‘whatever.’ even after everyone found out he just used it like normal. it’s only a pain when they kept asking him to post something.

he truly is without care, yet he underestimates the fans who immediately stalk his ‘almost’ empty profile. you see, he doesn’t know that his reposts are public because he doesn’t actually look at his own profile. it’s usually a like, like, repost, favorite, like, then close app routine that he does before he goes to bed.

there's a few funny videos here and there, cooking videos and recipes too, things he'd like to try out soon for himself, or techniques that were really helpful for him. some are also videos of fan edits that he recently discovered, where the same video he shared was at the top of the page.

yet, there was one reoccurring face that kept popping up. a pretty girl who likes to lip sync some songs or show off their trinket hauls. sometimes mini vlogs from their day to day or makeup vids. and the topic trends everywhere: DYNAMIGHT TIKTOK CRUSH

when you saw it you really couldn’t believe it yourself that the one anonymous commenter on your videos was a pro-hero, your favorite nonetheless. though, it makes you a little nervous since your face is plastered all over different social platforms because you’re only active on that app. you don’t know where to go from there except squeal into your pillows. definitely flattered when you recall the many times he called you pretty on your vlogs.

as the rest dive deeper into his little ‘crush’ they even saw him comment on a few of your videos with compliments that sounded extra flirty. they teased him so hard saying how he looks like a creep especially with that profile. he’s never gonna hear the end of it. soon a new topic blows up that reads: GO FOR IT DYNAMIGHT

in his defense, if he were to give anyone an explanation, he thinks you have a really nice smile and a really soothing voice. also that you’re real cute and charming, that’s why he could watch and even rewatch all your content in one sitting. he couldn’t get enough of you, absolutely smitten. even had to ask kirishima how to turn on notifications for an account in the guise of turning it on for his agency's tiktok.

you’re also the only account he’s following that’s not a cooking channel or a pro-hero. and yeah it’s basically all that, a crush. not that he expects you to actually give him a chance, he’s happy just seeing your content.

however, the poor (not really) bakugou is actually unaware of the whole situation of his ‘tiktok crush’ trending since he was finishing a mission. only finding out when he got a call from kirishima asking if he found a girlfriend already. “what the fuck are you on about?”

“your fans are talking about how you keep reposting videos of this one girl on tiktok. i mean, it’s kinda obvious if you’re dating.” and it hits him, quick. your username (the one he could only remember, really) flashes in his head, but he laughs it off. “nah nothin’ like that. think i could shoot my shot though?” he asks him and kirishima says, “haha! i think she already beat you to it.”

not knowing what he meant, he swiftly gets home, showers, and lays on his couch whipping his phone out of his pocket to search up your username. and there he was, staring at his phone, unable to stop the smile on his face when he sees the thumbnail of your new video. he opens it immediately and there you were, holding a dynamight figurine (a very limited one too!) close to your cheek that you’ve never shown before until now. you never thought to show it thinking he might see it and think of you as weirdo. it gave the opposite effect actually, even made him more confident because who would've thought your pretty collection had a 'random guy' in there (definitely not random for you at least).

bakugou immediately likes, reposts and adds it to his favorites. even screen recording the whole thing cause you never gave access to download your videos—it was a very special moment for him okay!

he then comments, ‘you can have the real thing too.’

a few minutes later it’s got your icon with a heart beside it. he chuckles, happy that you finally noticed him. beams when he gets a notification that you followed him back.

he’s definitely going to dm you after he calms down. just hopes this time you don't beat him to it again.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i love a katsuki with a crush i think it's so cute. but i love it even more that he's still confident about it!!! i like to think that reader probably has like 20k followers or something so pretty big but not as big as the others. the first time he met you he stumbles upon a video of you talking about the ice cream u just got and then he got hooked cause u were so cute when u were picking the flavor. PLEASE DO NOT SHARE THIS ON TIKTOK BTW >< also minors & ageless blogs please do not follow me!

[queervegancryptid]

Seriously, academics and the like are flawed like the rest of us, so use critical thinking skills even when you're talking to an "expert" (obligatory disclaimer half because this is the internet and half because I majored in philosophy and am wont to quarrel about what exactly counts as an "expert" because my brain is wrong)

BUT

I promise that, in general, they will be very happy to talk about their work. Academics in particular, a lot of them I've known, don't get to pursue exactly what they want all the time. So when you engage with them on topics they actually have a background in, they sometimes forget how to act and infodump with the enthusiasm of your autistic friend who lights up talking about their special interests. All the ivory tower pretentious bullshit you sometimes have to cake onto yourself in that world, it can just crumble to dust with the force of their excitement about actually getting to talk about things that interest them rather than having to publish for publishing's sake or having to teach a course because someone in the department has to and it's their turn. (Seriously, I don't know if this is common knowledge, but that's actually how some departments run things: I taught the intro course last year, so it's so-and-so's turn next. See, for example, the dude who taught my intro to astronomy course. Lecture was a snoozefest. The planetarium and outdoor work? He was a different man. The final grades for the class had like a 40 point curve. It was kind of a mess. But it was cool when he actually wanted to be there.)

I used to say that was my favorite part of academia, but then I realized it's the main thing about that world that drew me in: I wanted a place where I would be expected and encouraged to explore in ways I wasn't allowed (or wasn't able, not having the resources and living in a small town) to do when I was a kid. It didn't work out the way I wanted it to, but that's a story for another post.

It's why I love libraries. There's a "bookmine" near me (I don't want to doxx myself naming it but DM me if you want and I'll elaborate) that I would fucking adore to roam for days and days. Or just nights. You know, sneak in and hide in this massive building full of books, wait for them to close and go home for the evening, and just go to town exploring various subjects. Also my partner would be there so we could gab to each other about our discoveries. I feel like a lot of people, academic types especially but not exclusively, can relate to this yearning to explore and share.

Don't feel like the only people worth talking to are folks with advanced degrees or prestigious titles, though. Academics can be easy to find relative to other kinds of experts, but good information can come from anybody. Not just somebody with an email address ending in edu. At the same time, beware of influencers and whatnot, obviously. Good information can come from anywhere, and the same is true of bad information. Someone saying things with a lot of confidence isn't necessarily telling you the truth and doesn't necessarily know what they're talking about.

Anyway. Send the email. I promise you're not bothering them by asking about the thing they literally got at least one advanced degree learning about on purpose (in the case of academics, but like I said, this can apply more broadly than that; read the room and shoot your shot, or whatever the kids are saying nowadays). I have a lot more to say about this and may even make a post to help people find experts in a given field of study and how to use responsible critical thinking skills and research methods more generally, especially if anybody expresses an interest in any of that. But I've babbled enough on somebody else's post lol I apologize and also it will happen again

Signed - your local autistic philosopher weirdo who just really really likes information and libraries and finding and exploring cool stuff and can't shut up about it sometimes

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 5 - You Should Always Check Your Sources

CW: Angst, language, mentions of torture

Previous parts - masterlist - next

When you enter the room with John, Kate stands up looking over at you. She picks her laptop up like she’s packing to leave.

“Stay.” You say. You don’t want to be alone in a room with John. She looks at John waiting for his nod of approval before sitting back down. He walks over to a drawer pulling a file out. He hands it to you. You open it, the first pages are just generic report stuff. You flick through it until you come across some pictures.

Pictures, well CCTV screenshots of you. In London, you have no idea where they were taken or when but it looks like you. The same hair, even the same coat you wear. You’re meeting up with someone for coffee from the looks of it. You don’t recognise the other person though. 

“What's this?” You ask confused. The next page shows the transcript of a call between you and someone else. 

“A phone call between you and a man called; Andrei Nolan. He’s Makarovs right hand man.” John says you look up at him frowning. 

“I’m assuming he’s the man in the photos too?” You ask flicking back to them. You look up at John who nods. You don’t even recognise the guy, he could have been someone you just hooked up with or bumped into. You try to think back but the date on the CCTV screenshot is marked out. 

You hand the folder back to John. 

“I don’t even recognise the guy.” You say. You cross your arms, you don’t expect him to believe you.  

“We caught him in Russia about a week ago. He was more than happy to talk about your meetings.” John says.

“Meetings?” You question raising an eyebrow. You don’t like this, this is feeling all too familiar to the last few days. You’re one step away from having a rag pressed on your face again. 

“We assumed you were selling secrets to him.” Jon says. You scoff, looking over at Kate who tips her head slightly watching you both. 

“What changed your mind?” 

“Our mole in Konni gave us intel that exonerated you.” Kate says.

“That’s why it took so long, we had to assume the worst until we could prove any different.” He sighs, you look at him. “We had to do our job. If we didn’t we could have been accused of harboring a traitor, giving you special exemptions.” 

You laugh, you can't believe what he's saying. You can feel tears welling back up in your eyes. You turn away. You won’t let him see you cry. You hear him take a step towards you, you freeze. He sighs almost like he’s trying to find the right words to say. 

“I really am sorry. I never thought it would come to this but our hands were tied we-” 

“You had a choice.” You snap, turning back to look at him. “You always have a choice. You told me that once.” 

“I-” 

“No! You had a choice and you chose this. You could have let me rot in a cell for a few days. Or suspended me, hell I would have taken a flight back to the UK as a traitor. Instead you-” The words catch in your throat tears escape your eyes. You step back away from him, swallowing hard. 

“I want a transfer.” You say finally trying to keep your voice level. You wait for his response, your eyes digging into him. He straightens up, now he looks like he’s about to cry. Good, you hope they feel horrible for what they did. 

“Why don’t you think about it for a few days. You don’t have anywhere to be, you can take some time to rest.” Kate says. You look over at her.

“Rest?” You scoff, looking back at John. “I can’t sleep without being back in that room over and over  again. I can’t wash my hands or take a shower without having flashbacks. Everytime I see you I panic, thinking something new will happen, more ‘evidence’ against me and I’ll be back in that room again.” 

John doesn’t say anything, his eyes are relaxed, his lips pressed together. You hope the guilt is eating him alive. You can see the dark circles under his eyes, the way he clenches his fists when you talk to him. 

“I want a transfer.” You say again holding your ground. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything, just nods his head slightly. You let out a shaky breath. You nod back at him and turn to leave, you thought it would feel like a weight has been lifted but instead you feel worse. 

You’re turning your back on the people you love, the people you spent the last 2 years with. The people you thought you would spend the rest of your life with. It hurts. Maybe more then the torture at least the physical part. The betrayal, the emotional toll of having the people you love hurt you so much.  

“Johnny knows by the way.” You say as you open the door and you leave without looking back.

—--------------

“You need to calm down Johnny.” Simon says as Johnny’s trying to get out of bed. 

“He’s right Soap, you’re no good to anyone like this, you've just had major surgery.” Kyle says trying to help Simon get control of the situation. 

“Fuck you.” Johnny snaps, pulling his arm out of Simon's grip and swinging his legs out the bed. 

“What’s going on?” John asks as he enters the room taking in the scene. 

“You tortured her. For 4 days you made her suffer, what were you thinking?” Johnny asks John in almost disbelief. “The snakes really? Low even for you.” 

“Does it matter?” John asks, coming into the room sighing. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Johnny asks scoffing and looking between Simon and John. 

“Of course it fuckin’ matters. She’s our girl cap. Or did you forget that?” There's spite in Johnny’s voice as he digs his eyes into John. 

“Get back into bed.” John says walking up to the bed.

“Fuck no. I want to see her.” Kyle pushes Johnny back, keeping him in the bed. 

“You know she’ll just drag you back here.” Kyle says. Johnny grunts, giving up pushing against him, he’s too weak anyway. He sighs, shaking his head. 

“You really thought it was her?” He asks. 

“The intel we had was solid.” John says. Kyle scoffs this time, Johnny looks up at him raising an eyebrow. 

“Does it justify 4 days of torture though?” Kyle says, there’s spite in his voice too. John sighs, he can regret it all he wants but it happened and that's on him and Simon. 

“Regardless, we had to act on it.” Simon says coming round to the end of the bed. 

“We should have done it differently.” John says.

“You think?” Johnny snaps looking over at him. Johnny shakes his head again. He swings his legs back into the bed, Kyle lets out a breath of release. 

“I can’t believe it. You fucking broke her. The person we’re supposed to love. 4 days, 4 fucking days.” Johnny pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s silence in the room, tension thick in the air. 

“What are we going to do?” Johnny asks no one in particular. 

“Nothing.” John says, everyones eyes turn to him. “She’s asked for a transfer.” 

—--------------

You walk into Johnny’s room around midnight. You couldn’t sleep again. You’re sick of sleeping. The pills don’t help, they just make you feel trapped in your dreams. You try to silently enter and pull a chair up to his bed but he stirs awake. 

“Hey lass,” he says, turning in the bed to face you. He looks sad, his face puffy. He’s been crying. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” You whisper. 

“Come up.” He says shuffling in the bed and pulling the covers out the way. 

“I shouldn’t-” 

“You should.” He says cutting you off. You smile and reach town to take your boots off. He moves to get more comfortable as you climb into bed next to him. He immediately wraps his arms around you pulling the thin hospital blankets over you. 

You lay there for a few seconds, breathing him in. He smells of hospital, but there’s a hint of Johnny there, the lingering smell of gunpowder and whatever musky cologne he uses. It makes you smile as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Trouble sleeping?” He asks, kissing the top of your head. You hum. 

“Me too.” 

You’re comfortable laying up against him. Suddenly you feel bad for leaving, you don’t know how you’re going to tell Kyle and Johnny. You need to go though, it's better for everyone. You can’t work with them again, not after what they did. 

Johnny and Kyle will understand. You’re sure they will. 

“I’m sorry you got shot.” You say, it feels like something you have to say. 

“Shh, you saved my life love. I wouldn't be here if it wasn’t for you.” He says kissing your head again. His hands are running over you like it’s the first time he’s touching you. You know that’s a lie, you have to convince yourself they can save themselves. They would be lost without each other, they wouldn’t be lost without you. 

You’re going to miss him. You close your eyes, breathing him in relaxing your arm over his stomach while he strokes you. 

You’ll see them again, keep in contact with Kyle and Johnny at least. You just can’t work with them anymore. 

“I love you Johnny.” You say, it hurts. For the first time ever it hurts to say it. 

“I know love. I love you too.” You smile letting him hug you tighter. You try to stay away but your eyes are heavy, the sounds of the machines lulling you to sleep. 

You’ll tell them tomorrow you promise yourself.

Banners by firefly-graphics

[booklover223]

“Oh! Hey Danny!” Red Hood greets the sudden manifestation of a Teenage King slowly floating down from a Lazarus green portal. He startles because he wasn’t expecting Jason here but, heh, two birds one stone and all that. Danny was used to rolling with the punches after all.

“Hey big guy! I’ll get to you in a minute. I’m actually here for little Red.” He says as he floats over to a half asleep teen leaning over the batcomputer. Jason and Dick watch as Danny’s hand glows as he pulls out… is that a spleen?? Before he quickly plunges his hand into Tim who immediately shoots up startled, Jason and Dick taking a few steps towards the teens alarmed and shocked.

They watch as Tim gains a healthy pallor, his eyes gain a light that makes him seem alive again he doesn’t even seem to be tired anymore as he looks around the bat cave looking at Danny whose hand is still inside him. Jason sees him ask Danny a question but he and Dick are both too far away to hear it. They watch as Danny nods a small smile on his face and watch shocked as Tim tears up and throws his arms around Danny.

Danny hugs him back tightly with one arm as his other is still buried into Tim’s side, before finally pulling his hand out of their brother who slumps with relief and some other emotions that the brothers can’t name.

Danny brings Tim over to the med bay and lays him down, to the brothers surprise he passes out immediately. Danny floats over to Jason who’s flabbergasted. “What just happened??” Is all he could ask.

“Oh, I was just helping out my mentor! I think I told you about him before? His name is Clockwork! He fixes the time stream, or well,” Danny says with an eye roll and a huff “he sends me to fix the time stream. Some stuff is easier to do when you’re a halfa.“

Dick let out a hysterical laugh as he checked over Tim’s vitals (that he had rapidly hooked up to his fast asleep brother) “But what did you do to Tim?!” Danny’s eyebrows furrow as he looks between Dick and Jason.

“I’m fixing the time stream?? Did you guys not notice your brothers sudden fixation on coffee and his non-aging?? Damien is now almost the same age as him? There was a whole bunch of different time stream collisions and such I’m not getting into it it was a nightmare to fix; but the last piece of the puzzle was getting Tim’s soul firmly reattached to his body so he can finally age properly.

“He still had his soul!!” Danny states as he sees Dick start to freak out. “It just… wasn’t firmly attached to his body or this time stream. I decided why not give him back his spleen as well just to anchor him back. He’ll finally be able to age properly, though he will have a few growth spurts I guess, because his body is going to be trying to catch up with his Physical age.”

Danny rambled on a few minutes talking about timestream shenanigans that both Dick and Jason would normally live but they cannot comprehend them right now because they just realized that Tim hasn’t been growing and how did they just notice when it had to be pointed out to them??? Danny realizing he lost them decided to just come back later to check on Tim and flys off to go get a batburger, leaving the brothers spiraling. He’ll explain more later.

When Danny Phantom appears in the Batcave, everyone expects he's there for Jason. Whether to cleanse him of Lazarus water, or pull him into the afterlife it depends on the person, but what no one expects is that he's there for Tim.

Meanwhile, Danny doesn't mind dealing with some ectopoisoning while he's in the neighborhood, but the real reason Clockwork sent him to Gotham is to retether Red Robin to the time stream so he can finally age to adulthood. He has spent way too long as a teenager, and no one seems to be noticing.

[docdudo]

Hi, I love your writing it is so good. I just read your foster human story and was wondering if like one, Did she come from an abusive house hold? and two, how would the 141 react to reader flinching or something like that?

Hello, thanks for the compliment! Hope you like the next parts to come!

Reader didn’t exactly come from an abusive household. They’ve been in the system since birth and have experienced a lot of different foster homes—some better than others.

Reader isn’t unfamiliar with rough hands or taking hits from angry or frustrated foster parents. They’ve taken enough hits to instinctively flinch away when hands move too fast in their direction.

And the 141 is also not unfamiliar with foster kids. After their own kids left the nest (literally kkk), they began fostering. Almost all the kids who came through their care were somewhat cautious about physical touch.

They are not surprised about your reaction...

...But that does not mean they are happy about it.

That’s partly why they keep wanting to touch you. It’s their way of reassuring you that their touch is safe and gentle, even though they’re much bigger than you. They’re trying to get you used to their presence and touch without making you feel threatened or sending you running.

And if they ever see anyone—really, anyone—hurting children much smaller than themselves for no good reason, you can bet they won’t stand by in the face of such injustice.

I mean, they were military, special forces. What do they expect, not to receive a rough push and a snarl in their face if they do something stupid like this?

[avelera]

Hi, I wanna say I really like your posts and enjoy your meta's about jayce.

So I wanna ask a question: How do you interpret jayce's behaviour here?

Personally, I have always believed that since jayce came from a family of blacksmiths, he would at least know how to negotiate or essentially haggle to an extent so do you think that it's on purpose that jayce isn't particularly shown to haggle when it comes to his interactions with zaunites?

Also, aside from that I think silco and Jayce's last scene really goes unnoticed by many epssically when jayce genuinely chooses to be fully transparent and honest with silco admitting that he is scared.

Short answer: My interpretation of this scene is that it is meant to show how privileged and naive Jayce is.

Just to be clear, I adore Jayce, but I will still admit to his flaws as a character. But, I will also point out when "flaws" like privilege can also lead to generous or otherwise laudable behavior, because it's easy to be a saint in paradise.

As for the longer answer, Jayce doesn't haggle for a few reasons:

1 ) Jayce doesn't haggle because he's never known real hardship. He's from a family of blacksmiths, yes, but of a particular flavor. He's actually from a family of factory owners and toolmakers. He's middle class shading to upper middle class either by virtue of being the son of a factory owner or certainly by the time Hextech takes off. What Benzo was charging probably didn't cost that much to him, especially with Kiramman money backing him up. He needed the items more than he needed a bargain to have them. It probably didn't even occur to him to try to get a deal because of how little the items cost to him.

2 ) Jayce doesn't haggle because of cultural differences. To a Zaunite, it's unthinkable not to haggle. To a Piltoverian of a certain class, it's probably unthinkable to haggle.

I've felt this cultural difference as a person from the US while traveling. You would never haggle in the area I'm from (I don't claim to speak for the entire US), because most shops have an established price and that's what you pay. It would be incredibly rude in most instances to haggle. But when I've traveled to other parts of the world, Turkey for example, it's not considered rude at all, but expected. In places like the Istanbul Grand Bazaar, it's expected and there's etiquette governing it, and US customers are regularly fleeced for 10x the actual price if not more.

But you have to understand too, in relation to Jayce and as referenced in point 1, one reason US customers get fleeced in those places is because the amount being demanded as 10x more than the cost of the item is still a negligible amount for them. An item that they could haggle down to 50 cents costing $5 instead isn't really a big deal. Especially if you're on vacation anyway, you can afford to be generous, even if it means getting mocked behind your back as a sucker.

And for some there's an element of generosity to not haggling. Why would I haggle to get a $5 item down to $2, when it's a negligible difference for me, I want the item, and the person I'm haggling with needs the money more? Which leads into:

3 ) Jayce doesn't haggle because he's a good person at heart. Zaunites from Ekko to Silco are aghast at Jayce's lack of haggling, so it's not just a financial thing, it's a cultural thing. But even with the case of Silco, I'd argue one reason Jayce doesn't haggle is because he sees himself in a position of strength. He knows that independence matters more to Zaun than it matters to the Councilors in Piltover, who might whinge about it and the potential profit losses of losing sovereignty over Zaun, but they've been neglecting Zaun for years so boohoo, they can suck it up and get over it.

That to me is Jayce's view. Jayce admits that Zaun is asking for a lot of privileges that probably should be haggled over, like access to the Hexgates and blanket amnesty, but all that would do is drag out the process, possibly lead to more conflict if tensions rise again during the negotiations, and it would still lead to the same conclusion: Zaun deserves to be its own nation after Piltover neglected it. Jayce is a direct thinker and he decides it's better to just rip the bandaid off and let the chips fall where they may, rather than try to nickel and dime Zaun's negotiations when it would cost nothing AND be the morally correct choice for Piltover to just let them go.

One a final note: I think one reason we're seeing Jayce become a more beloved figure in S2 is because we can now see how radical and progressive his negotiated peace with Silco actually was.

When we only had the context of S1, Jayce's negotiation can come across as too little, too late, or even foolish. But when you see at the end of S2 that, as far as we can tell, without the negotiation going into place, Zaun doesn't have independence and only gains one seat on the Council, you can really see why Jayce using his position of authority while he had it to cut through the bullshit and right what he saw as a systemic wrong in one fell swoop might have been naive but it might have also been the radical change that the city desperately needed. Granted, we'lll never know if the Councilors were right and there could have been negative consequences to not negotiating more. Maybe handing an independent Zaun to Silco and the Chem Barons without haggling would have led to further disaster.

But as the show's theme constantly reiterates, "What could have been?" I think we can see better now that Zaun didn't get everything Jayce was willing to give them at the end of S1, and that's a tragedy. If nothing else, Jayce's willingness to not haggle even when he could wasn't just foolishness, it was because his heart was in the right place and he thought they deserved it. It might be a long time before there's another chance at that kind of progress again without the Man of Progress.

[voikiraz]

— In 𐔌 𝓜y ͡꒱ eyes [ l.hs ]

Lovers . Bf!heeseung x fem!reader ⠀𝑤. Petnames, skinship, that's it i think step ? #885 M.recordings [ if this feels rushed or forced pls tell me, again this is part of @cupidhoons series ahhh, I can't believe I actually got both done, but hope you like it >< ]

Syn. Four times heeseung marked your moment as the most special and decided he wants to keep you next to him forever.

This is so silly but i think heeseung would have a photo binder full of polaroids of you, pictures of you guys on dates, his friends and family etc. And he definitely has one in his wallet too ( I'm indulging in lover ; heeseung )

𝑜𝑛𝑒

It was a random date night, but considering that you haven't had some time for yourselves in a while, it hit you differently, and you sure missed him, it was a day that you appreciated more each second the more you think about it.

Knowing that he put so much effort in taking you out every week even though you knew his days were jam packed.

“Thank you hee, I missed going out with you, I was starting to experience withdrawals” you say, twirling around the glass containing your drink while you waited for the food.

“Anything for you baby, plus you deserve it” he said, holding your hand and the night continued on, talking about your weeks and sharing each other's food (or stealing it ).

And by the end of the day, he had to pull out his polaroid camera, he genuinely had it with him all the time.

It was his way of keeping the moment with him for as long as he could.

He asked one of the waiters to take a picture of you two, and you displayed the bouquet of flowers he got you this morning, white and pure like the love he provides you.

𝑡𝑤𝑜

You were very tempted to ignore your friends and go back to sleep, why would they wake you up before sunrise just so you can enjoy the good weather?

But they drove a hard bargain the moment they told you heeseung was coming too, who were you to decline spending time with your boyfriend.

You got up and started getting ready at a speed that made your friends scoff at you at how fast you changed your mind.

As you walked around the empty streets near the river, all you could focus on was him, making you earn a few ( fake ) disappointed sighs from your friends, declaring that they hate couples ( even though they're your biggest supporters ).

The group stopped somewhere to decide where they should have breakfast before moving any further, forgetting the two love birds somewhere on the other side of the road.

And they stood there, sickeningly staring at each other as if they weren't capable of ever looking away.

And when heeseung decided that you look way too pretty to not snap a picture, he pulled out his camera, and so did jake, he thought this was the perfect moment to capture your intense love for each other.

“You're so gorgeous, my love” Jake heard heeseungs voice mumble those few words out and he wished he minded his own business.

“Okay enough please, never do that infront of us again” Jake complained in a whiney voice, brushing you off and walking further.

𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒

On a warm night, when your boyfriend decided that it's the perfect weather for a sleepover and some hot chocolate, the last thing you expected to do is let said boyfriend drag you out in the cold.

“Y/n come on there's shooting stars outside.” He said almost in a whiny voice, wearing his heavy jacket and waiting for you by the door.

You were contemplating, did you really want to get out from under the comfortable blankets to go see shooting stars?

Well, If he was asking so nicely, how cruel would you be if you denied him such a request?

“Fine, give me a second.” You said, running up the stairs to go get your jacket then beelining towards where he stood once more.

He threw a giddy smile on his face and a light kiss on your cheeks, one that appears with a chuu sound paired with it, making you giggle.

He pulled your wrist and in a second you were outside, enjoying the snow and the shooting stars, the cold breeze contrasting the warm toned living room that you were buried in a second before.

“Omg we should take a picture, come here” he pulled you close to him, holding the camera up and hiding his face in the warmth of his jacket.

‘Click’

“It's so pretty,” he said in awe, then looked at you in a swift motion “not as pretty as you though.” He paired his flirty line with a wink.

𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟

It was finally new years night, and you were excitedly waiting for the countdown to start, waiting for heeseung to claim you as his new years kiss.

And he delivered with no hesitation, making it feel like it'll never be the last time.

He gave you the world and more. And you were forever grateful for him, the way you could picture yourself living with him for as long as you'll breathe. Safe like you've never been before.

You love Lee Heeseung, and you dont remember what it feels like not to.

“Pose for the camera love birds,” you heard Giselle call for you two and you happily obliged, taking a few pictures on her phone, ( that she'll probably never send to you ).

But of course, you had to take your special polaroid picture with the person you'll want to engrave in your ribs forever.

© voikiraz 2O24

[ro-bee]

Hi!

Could maybe say something more about your Goat Realm?

What is story of Puppy narinder here?

What heretics look like here and how are they behaviour? (I'm curious about it because I love these beans. I'm all ears to any littlest detail)

How other bishops look like?

And anyway anything. I'm all ears to all ramble!

Drink your water!

HELLOOO

It is time for the goatverse yap section ! Everybody cheers!!

Anyway little disclaimers :

1_ is very work in progress... Unfortunately all my focus is on those two gay furries and not much on the world so I don't have many drawings to show :(

2_ it's heavy... And I mean there are strong themes and stuff (I'm not gonna go in details here) ... You'll see it better when I finish one of my many projects but it will require a lot of time... Like a lot, sorry... Anyway :)

Goat's world is very harsh. Here we live by the philosophy of kill or be killed very often, despite that there are some people that manage to live in piece and tranquility (example: goat's family and people that don't venerate any specific bishops or that venerate Kiran)

The world is ruled by the 5 bishops (these design are still concepts expect our beloved wolf lol)

Four of them command on different regions, Kiran being the god of death rules the purgatory

He doesn't have many followers like his siblings but he prefers it like that, it doesn't really matter to him because people souls would end up to him anyway.

His siblings have more of an evil alineament, they use their godhood for bad often, taking entertainment on their followers pain. Kiran is the opposite and witnessing his followers suffering fills him with sorrow, that's why he always gives his followers a painless death, is the last he can do for them... After all their souls gives him power :)

Anyway I think I already explained kiran's plan here , tldr bro is sad people suffer so he thinks that killing everything is a good solution

A little thing I want to add to kiran's backstory thing (idk):

I think that unfortunately we're not gonna have a ratau in this world, since Kiran's objective is to get rid of pain with putting everyone's soul to rest I think he won't let any previous vessel go away after failing (I'm not doing this because I hate ratau, he's my dad I love him so much)

So goat had no guide in what they were doing

Heretics here are just like regular heretics(?), if you wanted to know more about their design unfortunately I don't have anything with them :( I have some sketches in the comic I'm working on but I need to keep it as a surprise

Most of them are just regular people that want to survive...

Talking about people who want to survive:

Goat wasn't always this fucked up in the head, this whole deal changed them for the worst. Before the crown they lived a normal peaceful life with their family, when they lost everything they were forced to learn how to fight back to survive. So they spent many years running away and fighting back, they felt terrible at first but then it started to feel normal, almost enjoyable. Getting the crowns powers made killing people fun for them so yeah lol this is the evolution of goat going from calm Lyra player to killer machine, they have a loooooot of anger issues lol.

About the bishops... I'm currently drawing them better and they still have no name right now...

Their personality is the opposite of the canon one basically

The leshy is calm less impulsive

The geko is a prudent and a bit coward

The kraken is fearless and violent

The scorpion is ruthless and impulsive

Kiran is their older brother and loves them very much!! the feeling is not very mutual but anyway :)

I need to work a little bit more on them ngl

Aaaand I think this is all? Hmm idk feel free to ask more :)

[ynmnrmt]

The book hits me in the chest. It doesn't hurt, not really, I don't suppose I can complain about this anyway since I always knew it might turn out like this.

"You do not get to do this to me!" says Rachel, all fiery, as she tackles me to the ground and sends a swooping, weightless sensation down my spine. My heart starts to beat out of control, in fear I expect. "Nobody gets to do this to me! What, did you think I was going to be your good girl?"

This is the wrong response for that teeth-clenched scorn, but I fumble out "Well, not that exactly." I don’t think there really was a right response there, it just makes her angrier. Her nails dig into my arms, it makes whatever nonsense I was going to say next catch in my throat. If she were anyone else I would be thinking of all the ways I could use my bugs to disable them or otherwise get them off me, but this is different, because it is Rachel.

"I fucking hate you, Taylor," she snarls, so close I can feel the heat of her breath in my mouth. "I fucking hate you."

"I don't hate you," I tell her, trying to suppress the tears.

Rachel slumps slightly. For some reason the feeling of her big, sinewy body on top of me makes me think of the time I had sex with Brian, although I don't know why. "No," she sighs, "I don't hate you either." My tears dry up instantly.

"I probably shouldn't be trying to use some stupid book to relate to you better," I confess, it was one of those situations where it would either make everything okay forever or completely ruin things.

"No, well, I probably overreacted, its the sort of thing you do, you – you nerd." Her grip on my arms gets a little looser, but she's still on top of me, weighing me down, my heart's still going like a drum. "There's just something about you that, ugh, you pissed me off so bad, I was about ready to bite you."

"Maybe you should." That just comes right out, she looks as surprised as that as I am. "I mean, this isn't from the book now, but it makes sense, if I did something that pissed you off that much then obviously you'd be tempted to respond that way, so, um, maybe you should. To show there’s no hard feelings. I wouldn't mind."

Her eyebrows narrow, again there's that wonderful swooping feeling where my legs turn to jelly. "This isn’t a trick, is it? You won't go running off and tell the others 'boo hoo, Bitch bit me'?"

"No! No, I would never, this can just be between us."

She grabs my right arm with both hands now, and raises it to her mouth, slowly and methodically as if she's waiting for me to object. Then she sinks her teeth into it, those hard points, her soft lips, I whimper. Then I gasp when she immediately releases me, the relief from a pain I didn’t really feel, and she asks "Are you okay? That wasn't, like, too much?"

"No!" I insist, again it just tumbles out of my mouth with no conscious thought, though I mean it very sincerely. "No, that was great, I mean, fine. I - I think I liked it."

"I, uh," Rachel looks wrong-footed in a way I've never seen her look before, and I yearn to reach out and caress her and hold her in my arms and tell her it's okay, she is my friend after all, but the way she's straddling me I cant get off the ground. I think I like that, too. "I don’t want to hurt you, Taylor. I know sometimes you piss me off, and then I get pissed off, but I don't want to hurt you, not really."

"You're not hurting me, Rachel," I say gently, still doing my best to get across how I want to hold her and caress her and everything. I smile up at her, carefully not not showing my teeth, even though I doubt she'd find that a threat to her dominant status. "Not in any serious way, you're not. In fact, maybe, maybe this could be a relatively healthy way of dealing with it, if I piss you off again. You can just take me aside and give me a little nip," and here she does, playfully, her front teeth pull at the skin of my arm and I wriggle with a deep and heartfelt satisfaction, "and I'll know exactly what you mean and then I'll know not do the thing that upset you in future."

She shakes my arm lightly, with a little "RR-rr", then adds "I don't know, Taylor." Suddenly I realise that yes, she's right to be concerned, this sounds like an incredibly abusive dynamic on the face of it even if from where I'm laying - still trapped between her thighs - it sounds absolutely perfect, and makes me glad we can be such good friends. "Because, the thing is, I'll probably end up biting you a lot."

"That's okay!" I definitely just let that fall out of me without thinking, but even after some consideration I conclude that yeah, it's absolutely fine.

"Just thinking about that book - I'm sorry, it's pissing me off all over again." The colour rises in her cheeks, I desperately hope she will work this out by biting me, maybe a little harder this time. For a moment there is a little struggle, I do not really want to get free of her grasp and she does not want to let me. "Seriously, what was your plan there? Were you going to," for a little moment, the words catch in her throat, "put a collar on me, and tow me around on a leash?" Oh God, that probably is what it would all have been leading up to, I'm about to messily sob out another apology when she says "How would you like it if I did that to you?"

How would I like that? Immediately my heart flutters as I imagine her strong fingers pulling the collar tight around my neck. Not too tight, I'm sure she wouldn't do that, just tight enough so I really feel it, usually I really don’t like those sorts of sensations but I’m mysteriously convinced this would be different. "I don’t know," I whisper, already feeling the tightness, my throat closed up further than I'm completely comfortable with. "Maybe we should try that."

Rachel says nothing, but she immediately gets off me, which is slightly disappointing, and goes rooting about in a chest of drawers. I cling on her elbow, to look through the drawers as well, to help, obviously I would help her do that, she's my friend. "Most of these are flea collars," she says apologetically, "and the chemicals on those would really mess up your," I flush a little, feeling her eyes on my throat, and then she realises what I'm doing and she flushes a little too, "you wouldn't want that, anyway."

"Oh, what about this one?" I say, and pull it out into the light. Its made in old green leather with brass studs, it looks quite classy. If it was black leather it would just look like something from a kinky bondage dungeon, which of course it isn't.

Here it is, a million times more exciting than I could possibly have imagined, as she brings the ends together under my chin. Oh dear, now I think I am showing her my teeth, but she doesn't seem to mind. "You need to say, if it's too tight," she warns me.

"I trust you," I say, it sounds stupid now I've said it, we've spent a few lovely bites establishing that. When she pulls it closed and buckles it on it's perfect, there is just the tiniest amount of pressure, the awareness that it is there and she has done this to me, but I can breathe comfortably and there's no awkwardness with the blood thundering in my jugular.

Rachel slips a finger through the ring on the collar, I don't even think she's very much taller than me but this jerks my head upward anyway. "Maybe we don't need a leash, maybe we could make it work like this," she says, so tenderly, her other hand grasps my arm again and she has me completely under her control, she might have a point. But then she lets me go and goes back in the drawers, and before long, there it is, she clips the end onto the collar and she officially has me leashed. "So," she declares, all boisterous again in a way that makes me weak at the knees, I like her so much and she's such a good friend, "what did your stupid fucking book say to do now?"

"I don't know," I say. "I haven't read it, I wanted to be sure you were okay with it before I seriously tried to use any of its ideas on you. I thought it would be incredibly disrespectful if I didn't do that."

Rachel's hard eyes turn liquid. With one hand holding the leash steady in place, her other strokes my cheek. I am so incredibly glad we are still friends, after all this, and suddenly I realise what it is, I'm not in control here, I have given her control and I've done it willingly and I feel good about it. Then she says "Give me a woof."

"Woof! Bark!" I say out loud, and drop to my knees, if there was any possible way that I could wag my tail I would do it now. Rachel laughs, I rub my muzzle, or rather my mouth, against her hand.

"Good girl," she intones, and for her to say that makes me feel so wonderful, I know how she feels about cutesy expressions like that, and to have her say it to me, so light-heartedly, it doesn't even matter how I feel about it, I am only glad I can make her happy.

"Did you think I was going to be your good girl?" I repeat her words back to her, I think we're at a point where that can be lighthearted - and it is, she laughs again, after having seen her so angry it is indescribably wonderful that she is so happy. I wish there was a special button I could press to do this for her, but then, I try and calm myself down, this is what it is to interact socially and to have a friend like Rachel. There isn't some simple solution for this, it is a constant ever-correcting ballet, showing her again and again that she is my friend and I trust her and I want her to be happy. Then she presses the button to retract the leash, and it jerks me upward out of my dog act, straight up against her. I worry I have overstepped a boundary, I can feel her heart throb in her chest, the taste of her breath in my mouth again. For some reason I want her to press the button again and drag me in closer. "Woof," I say again, not even sure what I mean by it.

"Yeah," she exults, so smug and satisfied I could melt right here, I would be a puddle on the floor if she wasn't practically holding me up. "Keep woofing for me."

"No, you'll have to train me," I have absolutely no idea where this has come from, but how bad could her training process possibly be? Her giving me treats, and telling me no? Oh no, I think I want her to train me to woof when she says more than anything else in the world. I want to woof for her, I want her to make me woof, and just as that too is about to slip out of me like an oyster suddenly she tilts her head slightly - Oh God, something gives way in my underwear, it doesn't seem like I've peed myself but that is the only possible explanation for how wet I suddenly feel – but instead of what I thought would happen there she draws me in close and throws my hair aside so she can give my ear a little nip. I squirm, my vision blurs, I never want it to end.

When she lets go I feel the urge to chase after her, as if she’s a stick thrown for me, a magnificent red-haired stick. Fumbling over the words, clearly brute-forcing out a sentiment that doesn’t quite come naturally but is clearly there, she tells me.“You taste good.”

"You feel good," I insist, unsure how to deal with that lovely compliment except by turning it straight back onto her. "And, if this is what's come of me getting that stupid book, I'm sort of glad I did." I just keep pressing the sore spots, don't I? No wonder she was tempted to bite me, and yes, now she does again, on my cheek, my ear, my shoulder, every time it makes me that little bit weaker in the knees.

“Pff! God, you have too much hair,” Rachel growls, when she spits out multiple tresses I see what she means. But once she’s gotten them out of the way she squeezes me between her teeth and I hope it leaves a mark, and then that turns into "I probably should have known you just wanted to be nice to me. For whatever stupid reason you have."

"I'm glad," oh God, I can feel myself starting to well up, it's just too much, "I'm glad I've got you, here, to tell me where I went wrong."

"Well,” she says, pondering over it, "probably no harm in pointing out that normally my dogs wouldn't be wearing clothes."

"Oh! You're right! Woof." I gladly raise my arms and Rachel lifts my shirt, I giggle when it has to go over the leash as well. As it comes free it knocks my glasses askew – I raise my hand to fix them, but Rachel’s doing that already. Then I undo my trousers and they fall down as if lubricated. Normally I'd feel incredibly vulnerable being in my underwear in front of someone fully clothed, and I do, but I also feel completely safe and strangely contented, if a little cold, just a little.

"Those too," Rachel inclines her head at me. If we weren't such good friends I'd have said her tone was permeated with a kind of hungry desire.

"I'm shy," I tease, it's not really a lie.

With one sharp motion she pulls me in close again, yes, I'm not cold any more, and as her teeth close gently on my neck I feel her reach up my back and fumble with my bra strap. I'm quite glad she didnt unhook it in one go, I'm enjoying the process and would like it to last as long as possible. Perhaps she gets that too, because when she has uncooked it she doesn't pull it off immediately, just stands there holding it open, and stops biting me to say with desperate awkward sincerity “You – are comfortable with this?”

“Yes!” Even the words are starting to sound like little barks, but it’s so incredibly, gloriously refreshing to be able to be completely honest with her – with anyone, although especially with her. Suddenly buying the book seems so stupid, stupider even than when I was worried it would make her never want to speak with me again. Why learn about dog psychology when you can just be the dog? “And I hope you’re comfortable with it, too,” I add quickly.

“Yeah,” she says, slightly baffled. But that just lasts for a moment, and then she smiles at me again, and it’s like the sun coming up. I shrink down in the face of all that warmth, my knees haven’t completely gone but something about having her tower over me seems so natural and wonderful, and then I hug her around her waist, feeling the dog hair on her t-shirt up against my cheek. She pets me and really shakes my head around as she does it, rougher than she was with me before, it makes me feel like part of the pack.

“I know what else a dog would do,” I say, slightly breathlessly.

“Yeah?” says Rachel – and then I scamper behind her, the leash laps around her legs, and I start sniffing. This probably would be a bit strange in any other circumstances, but right now, I’m basically just saying hello. Oh God, that’s it, her wonderful smell, wet dog and pine needles and that little tang of her sweat. A dog probably wouldn’t have their hands up on her hips to do this, but I don’t think that matters.

“Your jeans fit really well,” I tell her. It’s quite hard not to notice.

“Thanks. They’re from, uh, Goodwill.” I keep sniffing at them, I’m fairly sure she had them on yesterday too, which is good, she’s started to permeate them a bit, I’m smelling her and not just her clothes. I end up enjoying the experience so much that before I know it my face is resting on the denim, and I feel her underneath it, all that muscle but still so soft.

“Taylor…”

I jerk out of this stonewashed blue reverie. “Oh! I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, if you were a dog I’d say you were being very friendly.”

“Well, good.”

“I bet your book didn’t even think of this.” Then I pad back around in front of her, and look up obediently. For a moment, her face tightens up – then she lets out a burst of uncontrollable laughter, and I’m really glad to see her suddenly get so loose and carefree like this. This is exactly the result I had hoped to get. She gets down with me, onto one knee, and says “Sorry,” as she fusses my hair, I close my eyes and lean into it, “you looked really funny.” Would that be wounding, in some universe? It’s hard to see how, objectively crawling around on the floor being a dog does seem quite funny.

“Woof,” I say. Rachel immediately tenses up with a suppressed giggle. “Don’t worry about it. I like having you training me.”

“This isn’t so much training you, it’s more like I tell you what to do and you do it.” When Rachel says this, I panic slightly at the thought I’m doing it wrong. She fusses my hair with both hands, which does reassure me. “No, it’s okay. Oh, I think I might have something for this.”

Rachel goes back to her drawer, I follow again, although down on all fours this time I can’t see what she’s after.

“I got given this,” she explains, “I’d never actually use it for training dogs, but now seems like the perfect time.” And she spritzes me with a squirt bottle, square in the face. I squeal, I should probably try to communicate dismay but really I’m just laughing. I go to back away, but since that’s absolutely the last thing I could possibly want I simply drop to the ground. Rachel stands across me, spraying me over and over, and as I look up at her square face and broken nose from below, as well as catch a little splash of her bare tummy under her shirt, I realise what I’ve been feeling all this time – it’s jealousy, that’s it, I’ve been feeling jealous of how heartbreakingly beautiful she is. “Bad girl! Bad girl!”

“Woof! Bark!” I get slightly more frantic as she coats my face with moisture, without even meaning to I grip her legs, to make absolutely sure I don’t somehow fall away. Finally, at long last, Rachel really seems to be enjoying herself, and I try not to feel too pleased with myself for having brought that about – I don’t care anyway, not really, the more important thing is the connection I’ve made with her. Not too long ago I wouldn’t even have thought something like that was possible.

The door handle rattles, it startles me but I am very secure where I am here. Rachel jumps a little too. Suddenly Lisa is framed in the doorway, absolutely astounded, her eyes flickering back and forth between us. “What’s going on?” she asks.

Rachel hesitates. I understand that all too well, it seemed so obvious and natural between the two of us, but having to explain it to someone else is strange and awkward. So I pick up the cue, and explain to Lisa, quite simply, “She’s making me wet!”

i'll say it. if wildbow wasn't a fucking coward he'd have made Taylor trying to train Rachel into being a Good Dog a central plot point but instead we were just straight up robbed and this book never comes up again

[azelsdoormat]

Azel Radwan Main Story

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This translation is fanmade and strictly for entertainment purposes only. All media and original content belong to Cybird. Do not use, claim as your own, repost or reupload onto other platforms, reblogs are welcome.

<< Azel’s POV >>

True love— to me, is the most evil of curses that must never befall me. 

I have yet to come to know love.

But I want to someday fall in love and understand what it is. 

A passionate love like a rose set ablaze, and a fierce love that stays on for eternity like a woven tale. 

...

<< Emma’s POV >>

??? (Azel): I have some unfortunate news for you, who yearns for love and thirsts for knowledge of what it is.

???: Love is not the grand blessing it is often proclaimed to be. 

???: At the very least, love is something I would very much rather do without.

???: — For I am a god incapable of loving people. 

...

Clavis: Emma, you’re going to Tanzanite soon, right? 

Luke: Honestly, I didn't expect that you’d go without him tagging along. 

Rio: I really do want to go with her!! What if something happens to her when I’m not there…!? 

Rio: But if staying behind will help Emma feel more at ease on her trip, then I… I’ll… 

Clavis: Haha, you can be rest assured about that.

Clavis: Because we’ll be her bodyguards in your place. 

(Seriously, what's going on here!?) 

After fulfilling my duty as “Belle”, I set off for the dazzling kingdom of Tanzanite with the bookstore’s owner and self-proclaimed bodyguards—. 

That land was home to the one and only god revered by all its inhabitants. 

…

Azel: If you’re interested, I could divine your future for you.

Azel: Please, allow me to repay you for going out of your way to come to a place like this. 

I thought he was a benevolent and kind god. 

However—... 

…

Azel: It’s time for collection. 

Emma: C-collection of?

Azel: Don't tell me you thought I performed the divine art of fortune-telling for free?

Emma: But you said it was a token of gratitude…! 

Azel: Shall I let you know what happens when you defy me?  

His true nature turned out to be that of a money-obsessed and ill-natured god!? 

Fooled by his scheming antics and caught in his trap like a prey, I fell into a life of servitude, being worked to the bone like a slave… 

…

Azel: Be that as it may, I have another errand for you.

Emma: Another one!? I just came from shopping.

Azel: How pitiful. But I’ll have you remember that you’re indebted to me. 

Azel: You would be spared from running any more errands if you could repay your debt in full, however…

Azel: That's not at all possible, now is it? 

…

Azel: Delicious. 

Emma: Snacking is forbidden! 

Azel: Doesn’t matter whether I eat now or later. 

Emma: It’s bad manners. 

Azel: Preaching manners to a god? 

Emma: It doesn't matter whether you’re a god or human. Your feelings will never be conveyed effectively if you don't speak up. 

Emma: Sneaking bites of food or using me as a shield to fend off women, I’m not happy about either of those! 

But as I spent more time with this living god in his isolated castle in the desert, I came to realise something. 

…

Emma: First of all, you have an abnormal sense of personal boundaries. 

Azel: Huh? What does that mean? 

Emma: No one behaves like this with someone who's merely an acquaintance.

Emma: You said that you’d “hate if I fell for you”, and yet you have… a strange sense of personal boundaries. 

Emma: I’m surprised because you do many things that people normally don't. 

Azel: … Because I’m a god. 

Emma: That explains why you’re so detached from reality— 

Emma: *incoherent words* 

Azel: (muttering under his breath) —... I only did it because you looked cold. 

…

Emma: … By any chance, did the living god himself carry me to bed? 

Azel: … No.

Emma: Then what about the part where I was clinging onto you— 

Azel: That one is true.

Emma: “That one”? 

Azel: … 

(... I think I might be starting to understand Azel.) 

Before I knew it, an unfamiliar feeling began to sprout in my heart. A feeling different from the frustration I’d felt before… 

That feeling marked the beginning of a tragedy. 

…

Emma: … Countless people are suffering right before your eyes. 

Azel: And what about it? I’ve said it before, haven't I? I’ve long been disgusted by humans. 

Azel: If you think god is supposed to be some kind of benevolent entity, you make me laugh. 

Azel: Whatever happens to mere mortals is none of my concern. 

…

Azel: Akatsuki, I advise you to leave Tanzanite before the full moon. 

Akatsuki: … Are things about to get worse?

Azel: Indeed. It won’t be long before they do. 

The changes in the world grew closer with every passing moment. 

And then, the moment I discovered a truth hidden deep within the isolated castle in the desert — I came to know about a ��curse”. 

…

Azel: You touched what you should never have.

Azel: Did you think you could get away with it unscathed? 

(After crying my heart out, I have to make a choice.) 

(Will this be where I bid farewell to Azel? Or…) 

…

Azel: When and where did I start going down the wrong path? I never intended to love you, not even in the slightest… 

Azel: I’ve lost my way… how terrible. And the worst part is that I can bring myself to hate it. 

…

The god started off praying to never know love, and eventually wished to know what love was in the end.

Is true love a curse that turns people into beasts, or—? 

[seastarblue]

Writemas Day Twenty!

WOWIE. this event has gone by so fast! it’s been so fun raaaaaah I’m gonna miss this lil thing 💔

anyways, here are today’s prompts!

and the ones I used were:

setting: pub

the sweetness of chocolate

and that’s it! this is a continuation of yesterday’s writemas, so if you’d like… here it is wink wink nudge nudge >:]

tried to switch POVs and idk if it worked but ah well :/

———

“Felix, wait!” Kaiden called, clumsily slipping off her skates and slipping into her boots.

Her friend was fast, speeding from bridge to bridge, down ladder to ladder. She didn’t understand why she was intent on getting to him—all she knew was that he was scared, and while chasing him probably didn’t help, leaving someone to their emotions was even worse. She’d know.

Sprinting through a frost-covered city was hard. Way harder than Kaiden thought it would be. But, as he finally slowed down, she let herself slow as well. Trading speed for stealth, she trailed Felix, hiding in random locations when he looked behind.

Several minutes passed, and she had no idea where they had ended up. Felix would definitely know, though, so it wasn’t a problem.

~~~

‘Where even am I?’ he wondered.

He didn’t think Kaiden would follow him for long, what with her finally seeing his wings, the most prominent mark of his fairy heritage. Most were uncomfortable with it, some were downright disgusted. She wouldn’t be any different.

He finally stopped walking, slipping into what looked like a pub. Not bothering with re-glamouring anything, he took a seat at the back of the establishment. He put his head in his hands, choosing to fold his wings—they were still visible, but less so—and pray to the stars that Kaiden hadn’t followed him. The city wasn’t safe, after all, especially for someone who didn’t know their way around it yet.

‘But even if she did trail me, who am I to judge?’ he thought. ‘I blindly ran here first, for gods’s sake!’

If she was in danger now because of his carelessness, then… the thought terrified him even more than Kaiden’s possible negative opinion. He bolted back up and headed to the door.

He was met with a familiar face, one creased with worry and only slightly winded from the impromptu marathon.

~~~

Kaiden quickly took his arms and shook him a bit. “What the stars were you thinking?!” Her eyes were bright gold now, she could tell. No point in hiding them. Between the unfamiliar place and her missing friend, she assumed she had a good enough reason to be worried.

Felix, completely stunned, didn’t say a word. His pale grey eyes darted from left to right, and Kaiden noticed that markings under them were starting to emerge.

“What are you doing?” she asked softly, trying to calm herself and Felix down. Loosening her grip, she let her hands rest on his shoulders.

“I, uh…”

Kaiden nodded slowly.

“Well… it’s a long story.”

“… A long story.”

“Yes…?”

Kaiden looked at Felix for a moment longer, then she sighed and pulled him back into the pub.

“Sit.”

He sat. So did she.

“Talk. We’ve got time.”

So he did. And she listened.

~~~

“…That,” she concluded, sipping her mug of hot chocolate, “is a predicament.”

“You don’t say,” he agreed, shrinking deeper into his chair.

Kaiden observed him, as she did so many times before, but obviously he was quite different than what she was used to. For starters, his eyes were grey, where before they were a murky brown. Framing them were small butterfly shaped markings, which matched his shimmering wings.

Of all the things she expected Felix to be—a merchant’s son, maybe, or a circus performer—an esteemed nobleman was not it. Well, maybe ‘esteemed’ was a stretch, but it still stunned her.

She felt a pang of sadness when she realized Felix didn’t trust her enough to be his real self near her, but she understood why he hid himself under layers of glamour. She’d have snuck out of the house all the time if her mother was as overbearing as Lady BonaDea. At least he hadn’t changed himself too much—he still looked like himself, but more… Fae.

“What… what are you going to do about it?”

She took another sip of her drink, the sweetness of the chocolate contrasting the tense atmosphere. “Hm?”

“What are you going to do? Turn me in?” Felix asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Kaiden nearly choked on her hot chocolate. Coughing, she asked, “Now, why would I do that?”

Felix blinked. “Because… you could get paid a lot for it…?”

“You think I value a few coins over your trust?”

Felix shrank a little more. “No…”

“You think I’d condemn you to being a prisoner in your own home?”

He somehow shrank even more. “No.”

“Then why would you think I’d ‘do something about it’?”

He was silent at this.

~~~

Felix flinched a little as she stood, and kept his eyes on her as she moved around the table to him. If she was lying, well, she’d soon regret it. She took his hand, gently, and led him outside of the pub.

The icy air still bit at the pair, but the snow had long since stopped falling. His mind whirled. What if she was lying? What if she was heading to find a Guard and report the situation? She was obligated by law to do so, if Felix remembered his studies correctly. He had planned for this, of course, but the mere thought of having to hurt a friend made his head spin and his heart twist.

His thoughts trailed off as he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, pulling him a bit closer. He stopped walking, as did she.

Resting her head on his, Kaiden murmured, “You’re my friend, Felix. I’m not going to do that to you.”

Felix felt tears prick the back of his eyes, and he nodded slightly. She squeezed a little tighter, but not tight enough to even pinch his top wings. They stayed like that for a bit, not minding the strange looks from passersby.

The moment ended much too soon for Felix’s liking. She pulled her head back up and said, “Now let’s get home, yeah? Or back to Liaba? Lead the way.”

‘Shit.’ He had forgotten about that. “…I have no idea where we are.”

“What.”

———

GUYS THEYRE SO 💥✨💕💥🥰💥‼️✨💥😭💕✨‼️‼️‼️ DO YOU GET ME????

RAHHHH

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yay I hope yall enjoyed :>

[sorceresssundries]

A Spot of Tea

This is a little extract from the next chapter of The Warden's Watcher, but I thought i'd share on it's own.

Author's Note: Set from Emmrich's POV early game, in act 1, when Taash is still using she/her pronouns.This will change as their journey progresses and they make their preference known.

Tags: gender discussion

“Please, feel free to stay for a spot of tea,” Emmrich said, gesturing toward the chair opposite him. “Manfred has been experimenting with infusions. I’m sure he could add some ginger—I recall you’re rather fond of it.”

Manfred paused his dusting, turning to hiss enthusiastically.

Emmrich allowed himself a small smile, though he knew better than to expect immediate warmth from Taash. The gesture, however modest, was meant to ease the wariness she held for him. Time spent in conversation, he hoped, might convince her that her mistrust was misplaced. Yet, her continued guardedness was beginning to sting. He hadn’t seen her smile - not once - and it was becoming more and more difficult not to take it personally.

Taash remained where she stood, her boots rooted firmly to the wooden floorboards. She didn’t move forward, but neither did she retreat.

With an inward sigh, Emmrich decided to treat her as he would one of the Necropolis’ elusive cats: patient, unobtrusive, and willing to let her make the first move.

“You call him a ‘he.’”

“I’m sorry?” Emmrich asked, glancing up from his book.

Taash’s gaze hadn’t wavered. Her eyes remained locked on Manfred, her brow furrowed as if puzzling out a riddle she hadn’t yet solved. Emmrich knew she hated riddles.

“Manfred,” she said, her voice slow and deliberate, “You call him ‘he.’ How do you know he’s a ‘he’? Does he have… boy bones?”

“Ah.” Emmrich closed the book softly and returned his quill to its pot. “His bones are from a variety of donors, male and female. Some skeletal components require a match from the same biological sex, but others fit together without regard to such concerns. However,” he said, smiling gently, “just as with us, Manfred’s identity has nothing to do with the bones themselves.”

Taash blinked, her frown easing ever so slightly. “Oh.”

“It’s quite simple, really,” Emmrich continued. “He just let me know.”

“But I thought he could only hiss?”

“He finds his own ways to communicate. Many spirits, especially ones as curious as Manfred, wish to join the living and experience life. When they do, they start as something simple—a facet or idea that represents them—and, with encouragement, develop into more complex beings. For some spirits, I suppose gender becomes part of that identity.”

“Only some spirits?”

“It isn’t universal,” Emmrich explained, leaning back in his chair. “Some spirits feel no need for such distinctions. Gender, after all, is a construct. Perhaps they pick it up from the body they inhabit, the living beings they observe, or simply from something that brings them comfort. It helps them feel closer to what they wish to become.”

He watched as Manfred stopped dusting to offer a soft hiss and wiggle his skeletal fingers at a stray wisp that had floated through the window.

“Spirits,” Emmrich added, watching the exchange with quiet amusement, “aren’t so different from us in many ways.”

Taash’s lips pressed into a thin line. “So you didn’t question it at all?”

“Why would I?” Emmrich replied. “Who am I to argue when someone tells me who they are?”

“Huh.”

Emmrich let the silence linger before clearing his throat. “Now, about that tea? I assure you, Manfred’s steeping technique has improved immensely.”

Taash hesitated, her eyes darting briefly toward the skeletal steward before returning to Emmrich. For the first time, she seemed to seriously consider his offer.

“All right,” she said at last, lowering herself into the chair. “But tell him not to hiss at me. It freaks me out.”

Manfred inclined his skull politely, then shuffled off toward the teapot.

A fleeting smile crossed Taash’s face as she settled into the chair. It was small, but Emmrich caught it all the same.

[danishphoner]

The Last Shadow Puppets: fulfilling your kinkiest fantasies

Alex Turner and Miles Kane stand on one side of the success of The Last Shadow Puppets, who played Open'er Festival. On the other, you can see multitudes of fans trying to find evidence of the so-called ‘bromance’ of their favourites. And they, as if out of spite, only provoke further fantasies of their admirers. Even during the interview, they talked to me about fulfilling their kinkiest fantasies. See what else I managed to talk to them about!

Written by Katarzyna Gawęska Originally translated by everybodytriesbeinghuman on Tumblr

Translation below

Your duet is comparable to John Lennon and Paul McCartney’s, Steven Tyler and Joe Perry’s. Let’s start from compliments – what do you appreciate most in a teamwork?

MK: I think, it won’t be anything new, if I say, it’s thanks to Alex that our every song is so polished – no one else could make them better. Thanks to him, I am trying to push my own boundaries and, to be honest, I wouldn’t be so eager to do that without Alex. I suppose both of us could say that about our teamwork. We just understand in what creative direction each of us is heading towards. It’s difficult to explain, because we don’t need words to describe our thoughts, which melody each one is working on, which song he’s trying to make – cheerful or sad. I don’t know how it works – it’s just that sort of chemistry between us.

How is your work different from the Arctic Monkeys one or from your solo career, Miles?

MK: When I’m working solo, I’m sad, because I turn into a little frightened boy.

AT: When we are working on The Last Shadow Puppets records, we don’t know who's going to sing what. And because of that, we surely have to change our ways of writing, we don’t know everything from the get-go. It’s easier for me to write a song aimed towards myself – I’m writing a certain lyric, melody and I know I am going to sing it, so I’m already aware of my own possibilities. And the way Miles plays the guitar gets me really excited – his music takes me into a whole new world. When it disappears, this excitement is gone. It may sound like working with AM wouldn’t give me any satisfaction – I want to highlight it isn’t like that. With Miles, it’s just… different.

MK: I remember, one time Alex came up to me and said, “I want to see how you spit, while singing >>sick puppy<< in >>Bad Habits<<”. I called him a madman afterwards.

AT: Yeah…

MK: But he was right. No one else would say something like that to me, It was beautiful.

AT: You see, Kasia, I just tell Miles about my fantasies, and he tries to fulfill them, even when they are very kinky, like in that case.

Alex, you just explained, why your fans are suspecting you two of having a romance. You are very close to each other, but an artist needs a little more space and freedom to create, right?

MK: While making this record, we gave each other lots of space. EYCTE is the last song which we wrote. It was created from other unfinished pieces. It was supposed to be thousands of different tunes, but we made it into a one. Before I came into the studio, Alex sent me a demo on which he played the organs and then added different lyrics to it. That’s how it came out, and it’s a great example that Alex had a lot of space. When we played this song, I felt like I’ve never heard it before, which obviously wasn’t true. I was listening to the same thing as before but in a completely different form. And because of that, I started to feel excited again.

“EYCTE” is also your album’s title. Did you give your fans what they were expecting?

AT: Definitely! We hid it behind a red curtain, and underneath is everything they desired.

And what were your expectations for this record?

MK: We tried to bring something fresh into our work. We wanted to make this album different from the previous one. In some way, we got over with it and decided to not force things. It’s just me and Alex, that’s how we are and we don’t wanna change. And I think it turned out very well.

Your album cover turned out very well as well. When people see it, they want to give it a listen.

AT: I think when an artist decides to put something on the album cover or its booklet, they do it in order to show the listeners exactly what they’re gonna get from it. Actually, I don’t really know why I just said that, because it’s pretty obvious. Sorry, I’ll stop binding my time. Let’s say I made six albums, maybe five of them succeeded. The photography on the cover is a dancing Tina Turner. I’ve discovered it a few years ago and immediately thought it would fit perfectly, especially after changing the background to gold. There is a lot of grace in this picture, which is an element in TLSP’s music. It’s a dynamic portrait, which reflects our work brilliantly. As you may have noticed, it’s hard for me to describe some spectrums. Right now, I don’t know how to explain the fact that this cover is an amazing picture. The emotions you start to feel when you see it. Well, you’ve mentioned it by yourself, and I’m very glad you’ve noticed something so wonderful. I can only hope that more people will follow your thinking, and this cover picture will eventually make them listen to it. And yeah, maybe the sounds won’t disappoint them, either.

When I am listening to your tunes, I feel relaxed and calm. Then it hits me and I start wondering how it had come, if the lyrics are so aggressive and sexual. What does going from one extreme to another bring to your work?

AT: Another interesting thing you’ve noticed! It’s incredible that someone gets what’s happening inside my head! I’m telling you how it is. I very often find myself thinking that if the lyric drags on the right and the music on the left, then if we make both of those elements function we’ll create a balance. None of the elements will lean too much on it’s side, because it will be balanced by the opposite. Despite that I won’t generalize and in the “Bad Habits” case it’s the other way around – everything is dragged to the one side. I mean, there are some bows, which create a totally different impression of what our band is like. Not all the time everything has to be black and white – grays in our music are also very welcome. Personally, I’d rather listen for the rest of my life to what you’ve mentioned: meeting extremes in any song. I love that feeling when I turn on a tune and I think I know where how it’s all gonna go, and then the creator shows that he's playing with me and that, in reality, I know nothing. I don’t like predictable tunes.

Talking about lyrics, I couldn’t resist asking. Alex, there are very little lyric-writers better than you. People describe your style as poetic yet simple. Personally, I would agree with that. But how you would describe your writing style?

AT: You ask questions, which require thinking! Maybe… No, that’s not it. Or maybe… That one not as well…

Miles, maybe you’ll try to help him?

MK: For me it’s easy. Alex’s lyrics are like attempts to cross the Nile river on a raft. That’s how surreal they seem to me.

[Laughs] I think that’s the best comparison out there.

AT: [Laughs] Miles has a talent.

MK: No need to thank!

AT: And I still don’t know how to answer it. Miles handled it good, and I think that you [Miles] would describe me better than I could myself.

I’ll let go of descriptions, but I’ll ask you about the general sound of the album. Do you pay lots of attention to the technical side of making music? This album doesn’t seem modern, it’s more like…

AT: Something from the future?

I planned to say, like something from a few decades back, but your different perspective seems very interesting.

AT: [Laughs] We cut a deal then! But it’s a really fascinating situation! We were very excited that for the first record to make everything in an old-fashioned way. This time we weren’t so stubborn about making it so retro-like. We didn’t cut it off completely, but it just wasn’t as important. There are some old-fashion sounds on this record, but if you hear them on the radio, you’ll notice they sound modern. But I get your point! So remember that we still get excited over old amplifiers and such [laugh].

I know that you make new music all the time, so any plans for a new album?

AT: Oh yeah, absolutely! It’s like our… resolution. Resolution to make a new record. Now we are considering various options, we think a lot about the direction we should head to. I am working on a melodic scenario. Yeah, yeah, yeah. We won’t disappear that easily.

[itacats]

Rain of Shadows

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: Emotional vulnerability and confessions, Themes of healing and trauma recovery, Intimate and supportive relationship dynamics, code name used for reader, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: Rain wakes up in the infirmary (again, what can I say? I'm a sucker for pain) after the mission where they were gravely injured. Despite the pain and physical damage, Rain finds solace in Simon's presence. His unexpected confession of affection shifts their relationship from one of mutual respect to something deeper. Over time, the two begin to heal together, sharing quiet moments and learning to trust one another completely. Their bond becomes a lifeline, a beacon of hope in the chaos of their lives, ultimately bringing them closer than ever before.

A/N: The finale of the finale is a culmination of the emotional and psychological journey between Rain and Simon. It’s got vulnerability, healing, and the power of connection amidst the horrors of their world. Simon’s admission, though raw and unplanned, reveals his depth and the transformation of their bond. In a setting that often focuses on brutality and survival, I wanted to explore the softer, more intimate side of these two characters. It’s a reminder that, even in the darkest times, love and companionship can be the greatest source of strength. 💖

Rain of Shadows Masterlist

Part 10.2 - When the Heart Speaks - FINALE

The familiar antiseptic smell greets you before your eyes even open, sharp and sterile, paired with the low hum of medical monitors. Blinking against the haze of sleep, your mind struggles to piece together the events that led you here. Confusion swirls until your gaze falls on a familiar figure slouched in a chair beside the bed—Simon.

The Ghost. Unflappable, stoic, deadly. Yet here he is, his mask tugged down just enough to reveal the rugged scruff of his jawline and weary eyes that hold a warmth you’ve never seen before.

The sight of him, this intimidating soldier crammed awkwardly into a too-small chair, stirs something inside you—a mix of amusement and affection. A soft chuckle escapes your lips, pulling him from his light slumber.

Simon blinks groggily, his gaze locking onto yours as relief floods his face. “You’re up,” he says, his voice rough with sleep but softened by an emotion that catches you off guard.

“Of course I am,” you rasp with a wry grin. “It’s going to take more than a bullet to put me down.”

His lips twitch, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Reckless as ever,” he mutters, shaking his head.

The humor fades, replaced by a thick silence. You can feel the weight of something unsaid in the air, a tension that stretches between you like a taut wire. Finally, unable to bear it, you speak.

“Why were you so quick to help me?” The question feels raw, exposing a vulnerability you didn’t expect to reveal.

Simon’s expression shifts, his brows knitting together as he exhales slowly. “I’m not sure what to call it,” he admits, his usual confidence replaced with an endearing hesitance. “But you’re important to me.”

The sincerity in his voice sends a jolt through you, and for a moment, you forget the pain in your body.

“It’s not the same as with the others—Gaz, Soap, Price. They’re my brothers in arms, but you… you’re different,” Simon continues, his words halting but laced with honesty. “I didn’t plan for it, but it just… happened.”

Your chest tightens at his admission, the weight of his feelings settling over you. “Different how?” you press, curiosity battling with the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze darting away briefly. “Look, I’m trying to say… I like you,” he blurts, his voice tinged with exasperation and embarrassment. “I didn’t think I would when we first met, but here we are.”

The bluntness of his confession leaves you stunned. A warmth blooms in your chest, and a playful smile tugs at your lips despite the gravity of the moment.

“So, what’s your favorite thing about me, then?” you tease, your voice light with mock disbelief.

Simon chuckles softly, the sound like a balm to your soul. “Your smile,” he says simply, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart skip.

“Seriously?” you say, rolling your eyes, though the warmth in your cheeks betrays you.

He leans forward slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Fine. I also love how you can kill a man in two seconds flat. Very charming.”

The laughter bubbles out of you, filling the room with a sense of lightness you hadn’t realized you needed. For a moment, the pain in your abdomen fades, replaced by the warmth of shared joy.

As the days pass, the infirmary becomes your haven. Between missions and recovery, you and Simon carve out a quiet rhythm of companionship. The once hesitant exchanges grow into something deeper—an unspoken understanding born of shared experiences and mutual trust.

He shares fragments of his past, the scars he carries both visible and hidden. In return, you offer pieces of yourself, the broken parts you’d long since buried. Together, you begin to stitch those fragments into something whole, a mosaic of two souls healing side by side.

The late nights are your favorite. In the stillness, when the world feels far away, you find solace in each other’s presence. When nightmares creep in, Simon’s hand on yours becomes your anchor, his steady breaths lulling you back to safety. And when his own demons surface, you’re there, grounding him with a soft touch and quiet reassurances.

It’s the small moments that mean the most—his terrible attempts at making coffee, the way he lingers by your side during missions, the rare but heartfelt laughs you manage to coax out of him.

Every glance, every shared smile, is a promise. A vow to protect one another, to be there through the chaos and the quiet.

As the sun rises on another day, casting its golden light across the room, you glance over at Simon. He’s seated beside you, his head bowed as he tinkers with a piece of equipment. The sight fills you with an inexplicable warmth.

You’ve faced countless battles—both external and internal—but this, you realize, is the greatest victory of all: finding someone who sees you, who accepts you, and who chooses to stand by you through it all.

With Simon by your side, the future doesn’t feel so daunting. Whatever lies ahead, you’ll face it together. And that, you think, is more than enough.

To all my lovelies,

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for joining me on this journey. Your time, attention, and support mean the world to me. Writing this story was a labor of love, and knowing that you’ve experienced it alongside me makes it all the more special. I hope that you found something in it that touched you, whether it be the characters’ struggles, their growth, or the quiet moments between them.

Your presence and encouragement as readers are what make stories like these come to life. I’m so grateful to each and every one of you for being part of this journey.

With love and appreciation,

Jay

Taglist:

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

@jessicab1991

@burningarcadething

[tenthousandyearsx]

...suddenly a breaking news ticker appeared. [Seseong Guild Leader Sung Hyunjae, Wedding Scheduled for January 1st.] …Huh? I blinked. What? What? Gyeol and I both gaped. It was time, I guess. He was planning to get married before he turned forty. Since next year would be the last year of his thirties, I could understand. No matter how you look at it, thirties and forties feel different, right? Yeah, better do it before it’s too late. It’s sudden, but I can understand. Wait a minute, though—he didn’t get married before the regression, did he? And who is he marrying? Wasn't he dating no one? The first of January wasn’t far off, so why rush into a wedding as if frying beans in a flash of lightning? Is he showing his skill attributes by getting married suddenly? – Ah, ah. Gyeol, who was about to call out to me, closed his mouth again. As expected, Sanchez, who had been staring at the TV in shock, spoke to us. [...] At Sanchez's words, Gyeol tugged on my shoulder and shouted. – Dad, is that real?! “Well, I don’t know. I never saw any signs of dating. Did they fall for each other during a party or something?” Could that be it? But with who? No matter how hard I thought, I couldn’t think of anyone who might have been in a relationship with Sung Hyunjae. After all, that guy wasn’t the type to take an interest in anyone... It wouldn’t be Chief Song, would it? Surely not. But then again, who else could it be but Chief Song? What is this? Could this only happen in America? Both are Korean, so they’d have to follow Korean law. Could they have gotten U.S. citizenship in just five days? For an S-class hunter, dual citizenship would be easy to obtain. ...So where should I send my congratulatory gift? Sung Hyunjae is rich, so should I send it to Chief Song? No, wait, there’s no way those two are getting married! I don’t know about Sung Hyunjae, but there’s no way Chief Song would go along with that! – Dad, dad, are you okay? “Uh, yeah. But seriously, who’s bold enough to... Did they fall for his face? You shouldn’t marry someone just for their looks. Though, he is quite wealthy.” Marriage, huh? I wonder if Sung Hyunjae’s wedding will have a buffet. Who will sit at the family seats? I’ve never heard anything about the Seseong Guild Leader’s parents. But since we’re somewhat close, should I offer to MC the wedding? Usually, it’s a friend of the groom who does it. But I can’t have Chief Song do it. [It has not yet been confirmed, but they are said to be an S-class awakened.] The announcer's voice echoed from the TV. What? S-class? No way, it can’t really be Chief Song, can it?! [The individual was spotted to be a woman in her twenties, but nothing is confirmed–] “Do you have no conscience?!” Even if she’s in her late twenties, that’s a ten-year age gap! No way, I can’t MC this wedding. If by any chance it turns out to be a young woman in her early twenties, I’ll ruin this wedding myself for the sake of business honor. After that, the TV didn’t offer any more useful information. S-class hunters even make breaking news with things like this, huh? Well, if they marry a foreigner and move to another country, it would become a national issue. I looked at Sanchez with desperate eyes. “Aren’t you curious about what’s going on? I happen to have the direct number of the Seseong Guild Leader, so just one call–let me make one call!” [...] However, Sanchez shook his head firmly and told me to wait here before stepping outside again. [...]

“Sung Hyunjae-ssi, if this marriage that was announced today is something you wanted, please strike me with lightning right now.” Three seconds. 3, 2, 1. No lightning. Guess I can go ahead and stop this. [...]

“What the hell is Sung Hyunjae up to? Is he really too busy to send a single message?” I opened the messaging app. [America’s Hero^^] I saw my last message to Sung Hyunjae, where I had cursed at him. It was nonsense after he had complimented my outfit, saying it looked good on me. “…I guess we’ve sort of become friends, huh.” So I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know. [If you don’t send a wedding invitation by today, I’m coming for you.] [...] Come to think of it, how many times has this happened now? His birthday party invite, he ghosted me without replying, then I barged in and blew up his house. The cruise was wrecked, and the hotel wasn’t spared either. So Sung Hyunjae must have intentionally not sent the invitation, knowing I'd ruin the wedding venue. Was that the signal he was sending, that he wanted me to destroy it? [...] “Yerim-ie, I guess we’ll have to attend the wedding too.”

– The S Classes that I Raised – Chapter 603: Wedding Season

[thepascalparadox]

Chapter Eight: Responsibility Above All 

Word Count | 5.9k Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader OC Chapter Warnings | allusions to smut, switch pov

The General’s tent looked so different in the morning light. Last night, it had felt heavy with mystery and unease, the kind that made it impossible to relax. Perhaps it was the strangeness of the place—unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar surroundings—but now, everything seemed calmer. The soft rays of sunlight poured through the open flaps, making the candles from the night before seem unnecessary. A gentle breeze moved through the tent, replacing the sticky heat with something cooler, almost refreshing. You wondered if this change in the air would make it easier to say the difficult words you had prepared.

As expected, sleep never came to you. When the first light of dawn appeared, you decided to stop tossing in bed and face the day. Hours had passed with nothing but your thoughts: plans forming and silent prayers to the heavens, hoping for some divine guidance from your mother or father. Yet the silence of the gods remained unbroken, and you were left to face this moment alone.

In the corner of the tent, a wooden chest sat quietly. It was a gift from Lena, the General’s pregnant wife, filled with fresh dresses to replace the one torn from your ride through the woods. Her gesture had surprised you. You were so used to hollow kindness from people trying to gain favor with the Emperor’s daughter. But here, in this encampment, you had no title, no throne to sit upon. You were no longer a princess. Perhaps, just perhaps, Lena’s gesture came from a place of genuine goodwill. You made a mental note to thank her later, with sincerity.

The sound of footsteps interrupted your thoughts. Valerian, Lena, and Acacius entered the tent together.

For a brief moment, your eyes met Acacius’s. His expression was different from last night’s anger; instead, there was something else—something quieter, as if looking at you caused him pain. You forced yourself to ignore it. Your feelings didn’t matter right now. A leader couldn’t afford such weakness.

“Your Grace,” Valerian said, his tone casual, as though this decision was a simple one. “Have you reached your conclusion?”

“Be kinder, my love,” Lena interjected, her voice gentle but firm. “She is not one of your comrades to be addressed so carelessly.” She moved gracefully across the tent and settled into a chair near a modest table bearing fresh fruit. A quiet exchange passed between her and Valerian—an unspoken connection that only lovers share. His boyish, almost bashful smile hinted at a shared secret. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if the gods would ever grant you something even remotely resembling their bond. “Forgive us for the delay, my dear. This little one decided to make quite the fuss after all the excitement of last night.” Her hands rested protectively on her belly, caressing it with the tenderness of a mother. A gesture so natural, so familiar, that it stirred distant memories of your own mother.

“There is no need for further formality.” You stood, squaring your shoulders to project a confidence you did not entirely feel. “I have reached my decision. To do so, I had to set aside my personal desires and emotions. My duty is to the Roman people, just as my father’s always was. He would not have tolerated a usurper taking the city through unjust means. That is why I must marry General Acacius.”

You kept your eyes fixed on Valerian, unwilling to face Acacius and risk seeing the disdain you were certain must be etched on his features.

But if you had looked, you would have seen his expression shift. Surprise overtook his face, his breath caught in his throat, and for a heartbeat, his chest seemed to freeze mid-rise.

“My father despised war,” you continued, your voice firm and deliberate, “but he understood the cost of peace. He would never have wanted me to wed someone as corrupt as Macrelius, merely to appease the Senate. His memory must not be dishonored, and our people must be free from the tyranny of those men.” You finished your speech with as much resolve as you could muster, praying that your words conveyed the image of a determined and courageous leader. Yet beneath the surface, your heart trembled.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

What, in the name of all the gods, was she doing?

Acacius mind replayed the events of the previous night with merciless clarity. Their encounter had spiraled out of control, unraveling in a way he hadn’t anticipated. To him, it had been obvious—marrying that man was never an option. Yet when you uttered those cursed words, that you would feel safer with Macrelius, something inside him had snapped.

He regretted his reaction, bitterly. His words, his tone—they had been unbecoming of a soldier, let alone a man who loved a woman. And love you he did. The realization had struck him with the force of an enemy’s blade. There was no other explanation for the jealousy that had clawed its way through him, no excuse for the way his chest burned at the mere thought of you choosing another. After storming out of your tent, he’d spent the night tangled in the memory of your voice, your expression, the pain etched into your every word.

For a fleeting moment, he’d considered returning to you, swallowing his pride to apologize. But what good would that have done? Surely, you would choose Macrelius. You deserved happiness, and if it lay with another man, then he would have no choice but to accept it. He would support it, even, if only to keep you safe.

But now—now you stood here, and your words shattered everything he thought he understood.

I must marry General Acacius.

The walls he had so carefully built around his heart crumbled in an instant. His breath caught, his pulse racing as though he were preparing for battle. His body screamed at him—fight or flee. But which was it to be? Should he run from you and the chaos you brought into his soul, or fight for this fragile, impossible thing between you? For the first time, Acacius questioned everything he had promised himself.

"Well, it seems you're very much decided, Princess," Valerian’s voice broke through the haze in his mind. “I can see your father left a great legacy. My wife will handle all the... womanly matters, given that she’s one of the few here not at home raising our son as I begged her to do a thousand times.” His tone was light, teasing, as he glanced at Lena, who responded with a knowing smirk.

"Wait," Acacius interrupted, his voice unsteady, almost desperate. "Do I not have a say in this?"

“To be honest, brother, you don’t,” Valerian replied, his tone soft yet firm. “We’ve already discussed this, and much to your dislike, you can’t escape marriage forever.”

Lena rose carefully, her movements slow under the weight of her pregnancy. “Perhaps they should have a moment alone,” she suggested, slipping her arm through Valerian’s. Her playful tone returned as she whispered, “Your son is crushing my ribs, and I need some air.”

As the couple left the tent, you turned to Acacius, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the rustle of the canvas around you. “I know this decision doesn’t bring you joy,” you began, your voice wavering. “But this is something I must do—for my people, for my father—”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, spilling the words in a rush as your fingers twisted nervously at the hem of your dress. The weight of his presence was unbearable, pressing down on you like a storm cloud.

“Lumina mea,” he interrupted, his hands reaching for yours. His touch was cold, trembling, yet his grip was firm enough to anchor you. He lowered his head, searching for your gaze until you finally lifted your eyes to meet his.

“Can you not see it?” His voice cracked, raw and unguarded. “My heart has been yours since that night in the gardens. I know I’m not easy to read, that my temper gets the better of me, but this—” He pressed your hand to his chest, where his heart pounded beneath your palm. “This belongs to you and always will. That’s why I must ask: are you sure you want this? If there’s even a single moment where you think you’d be happier with him, then please—choose him. I want you to be happy, and I’m not sure I can give you everything you deserve.”

The words hung in the air between you, fragile and uncertain, yet filled with a sincerity that made your chest ache. For the first time, the formidable General seemed vulnerable—a man standing on the precipice of love and fear, willing to sacrifice everything for your happiness.

"Why didn’t you say all of this earlier?" Your voice trembles, soft and almost fragile, as if it might shatter under the weight of the question. “You left me thinking you hated me, that you were toying with my feelings, and that the idea of marrying me was as dreadful as death…”

Your words trail off, but the pain they carry lingers in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and unrelenting. His silence feels louder than anything, and for a moment, you fear he won’t answer at all.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice rough, each word deliberate. “I… I’m not very good at this. Expressing my feelings, I mean.” He pauses, the weight of his inadequacy evident in the way his shoulders slump slightly. “But I’ll do better—I promise you that.”

He lifts your hand, his grip both gentle and firm, and presses a kiss to the back of it. The warmth of his lips lingers on your skin, and for the first time, you see not the General, not the soldier hardened by years of war, but the man beneath.

A faint smile tugs at your lips, and you raise your eyes to meet his. “Well,” you say softly, “I suppose we’ll have to learn together then.”

Your smile grows, tentative but genuine, and in that moment, something unspoken passes between you. It’s a fragile understanding, a promise that neither of you could fully put into words but both feel with undeniable certainty.

Acacius watches you, his chest tightening with emotions he can barely comprehend. The vulnerability in your smile, the strength in your voice despite the hurt you’ve endured—it moves something deep within him. He makes a vow, silent and sacred, far greater than just learning to express his feelings.

He will become what you need, what you deserve. He will protect you with his very life if necessary, shield you from every storm, and make you the happiest woman alive. You deserve no less, and he will stop at nothing to ensure it.

The world outside the tent seems to fade, its demands and dangers momentarily forgotten. For now, there is only you and him, two souls caught in the uncertain but undeniable pull of something greater than either of you can name. And as he holds your hand, Acacius silently promises that, whatever trials await, you will face them together.

“Then I suppose... I shall see you at the altar.”

His words come softly, yet they carry a weight that lingers in the air between you. His lips curve into a gentle smile, one that feels uncharacteristically tender for the man you thought you knew. But it is not merely the smile that holds your attention; it is the way his eyes glisten, reflecting a light so unlike the fierce general you’ve come to recognize.

In that moment, the stoicism of his demeanor falters. There is something unguarded, vulnerable even, in his expression—a quiet joy that seems almost foreign to him, like a man stumbling upon a treasure he had long forgotten he desired.

And though the words are simple, their resonance stirs something deep within you. For the first time, the path ahead feels less like a sentence and more like a promise.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

Lena seemed to embody the excitement of a child at a festival, her energy contagious as she flitted about the tent with determined purpose. She meticulously examined each piece of fabric brought by the other women in the camp, lifting them against the faint light filtering through the canvas walls. Her movements were quick, but precise, her brow furrowed in concentration as she matched the vibrant hues and textures to the dress you were already wearing.

“I’ll make this as beautiful as it can be, darling,” she declared, her tone both reassuring and commanding. “We don’t have much, but what we do have will suffice. A princess cannot be wed in anything less than perfection, can she?” Her eyes lingered on a silken strip of fabric before dismissing it with a wave of her hand, the discarded piece falling to the floor without ceremony.

You stood silent, offering only a timid smile in response. Words felt unnecessary, or perhaps they simply escaped you in this moment. The nervousness coursing through your veins dulled your wit, leaving you unable to summon even the most mundane pleasantries.

Lena paused in her whirlwind, her gaze softening as she seemed to sense your unease. She stepped closer, her hands resting lightly on her hips as she regarded you with a kind, sisterly expression.

“You know,” she began, her voice quieter now, almost conspiratorial. “I grew up surrounded by men. Soldiers, generals, and war councils... it was a world of steel and strategy. But now that you are to marry my brother...” Her voice trailed off as her face brightened with a smile that could rival the sun. “It feels as though I’m finally gaining a sister, you know?”

Her confession took you by surprise, but it brought a warmth to your chest that you hadn’t expected. Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a gentle squeeze. “Of course. And as sisters, you must stop with all this ‘princess’ and ‘your majesty’ nonsense. We are family now.”

Lena’s smile grew impossibly larger, and with a playful tilt of her head, she returned to rifling through the collection of garments, humming softly to herself.

The silence that followed weighed heavily, and at last, you found yourself speaking, your voice hesitant and quiet. “It’s just... I feel so nervous. I’ve been preparing for this my whole life, but even though I don’t mind having a modest wedding, everything feels so strange, so foreign. And then, of course, there’s your brother...”

Lena froze mid-motion, her face clouding with concern as she turned to you sharply. “Did he mistreat you?”

“Oh, no!” you answered quickly, your cheeks coloring at the implication. “Quite the opposite. He’s... well, he’s quite a man.” Your voice faltered, your gaze falling as a shy smile played on your lips. Memories of your fleeting moments with Acacius flooded your mind, and you felt the heat rising to your face.

Lena’s sharp expression softened, her lips curving into a knowing grin. She took your hand and led you to the edge of the cot, sitting beside you with the air of someone eager for a tale. “Tell me everything!”

“There’s not much to tell,” you admitted, though the warmth in your voice betrayed the fluttering in your chest. “At first, I thought he liked me. We even... kissed, the very night we met. But then he began avoiding me, and I convinced myself that he merely tolerated my presence.”

Lena shook her head, her laughter light and musical. “My brother is as thick-headed as a stubborn mule. I’ve long given up trying to understand what goes on in that mind of his.”

“Well, I was certain he would despise the idea of marrying me. But now that I know... that our feelings are mutual...” You trailed off, your laughter nervous. “I don’t know what to do!”

Lena’s expression turned mischievous as she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re not... worried about the wedding night, are you?”

Your face burned at the mere suggestion, and the look of mortification you shot her made her giggle softly. Sensing your discomfort, she quickly reassured you.

“There’s nothing to fear,” she said warmly. “My brother may be brash and unpolished, but he cares for you. He will be gentle, and I dare say you’ll find the experience far more enjoyable than you might expect.” She stood abruptly, her hands on her lower back as she stretched, her pregnant belly shifting slightly with the motion. “Now come, they’ll be arriving shortly with a priest from the nearest village. You must look splendid.”

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

You hadn’t expected his touch to feel this way, warm and steady, grounding you amidst the whirlwind of the evening. His hand enveloped yours, fingers lightly brushing against your skin as if unsure whether to hold tightly or let you slip away. For a fleeting moment, you dared to glance down, marveling at the contrast—the roughness of his calloused palm against the softness of your own.

The two of you sat together on the raised wooden dais, a place of honor reserved for newlyweds. The crude yet sturdy chairs bore wreaths of laurel and wildflowers, their fragrance mingling with the smoky aroma of the fire that roared in the heart of the encampment. Beyond the flickering flames, figures danced in jubilant abandon, their laughter and voices lifting to the heavens as a hymn to Jupiter.

The great fire commanded the center of the celebration, its crackling embers leaping skyward as if eager to carry the prayers of those gathered. Around it, offerings were laid with care—baskets brimming with fresh grains, clusters of vibrant blossoms, and small carved idols placed as tokens of devotion. Each gift was a plea for blessings, a promise of prosperity, and a hope that this union, like the fire itself, would burn bright and enduring.

The golden light of the late afternoon bathed the assembled crowd, casting long shadows over the neatly arranged rows of soldiers. The air buzzed softly with murmured prayers and the rustle of ceremonial garb. The priest, adorned in pristine white robes, stood beneath a canopy of crimson, his hands steady as he prepared for the ancient rite.

Before the him stood Aemilia and Acacius, their hands freshly cleansed and now clasped together in the sacred Dextrarum Iunctio, the joining of right hands—a gesture both symbolic and binding. Their gazes met briefly, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them, but Acacius quickly looked forward, his expression a stoic mask.

The priest began the invocation, calling upon Jupiter Optimus Maximus to witness the vows and bless this union forged for the stability of Rome. When it was Aemilia’s turn to speak, she inhaled deeply, her voice carrying across the crowd, steady but heavy with meaning.

"Before the gods and in the sight of this great assembly, I, Aemilia, pledge my hand and my heart to this union. For the good of Rome, I offer my loyalty, my strength, and my honor. In joining our destinies, we create something greater than ourselves, for together, we are stronger than apart."

Her words were measured, deliberate, and though the sentiment was laced with duty, the softness in her tone hinted at her resolve to see this bond through—not out of passion, but out of a deep-rooted sense of responsibility.

Acacius followed, his voice firm but slower, as if weighing every word. "Before Jupiter and all who bear witness, I, Acacius, accept this union with Aemilia. I vow to protect, to honor, and to uphold the promises made here today. For the strength of Rome and the legacy of our people, I take this bond as sacred, unyielding."

He hesitated for the briefest of moments, his hand tightening slightly around hers as if grounding himself. "Though our paths have converged not by chance, I will strive to be a partner worthy of this alliance and the trust it commands."

The priest raised his hands in blessing, intoning the ancient words that finalized the pact. A soldier stepped forward, carrying a thin strip of woven cloth, red and gold, which he carefully wrapped around their joined hands—a symbol of their intertwined fates.

As the vows ended, the murmurs of the crowd fell silent, the weight of the ceremony settling like a gentle shroud. Aemilia glanced at Acacius, whose face betrayed no emotion, yet his grip remained firm. For all the political undertones of this marriage, the act of clasping hands, the solemnity of the vows, and the blessings of the gods bound them together in a way no strategy could sever.

“You feel tired? Do you wish to retire?” His voice was a low whisper, a soft murmur that brushed against your ear. His face, illuminated only by the flickering moonlight and the warm glow of the fire, looked somehow different now. There was a hint of redness in his cheeks, a glow that spoke not of exhaustion but of the wine that had loosened the air around you both. It was just enough to make him seem more at ease, more human, yet not enough to dull his sharp gaze.

“I do wish for a little quiet, I’ll admit,” you replied, offering him a shy smile, the words escaping more from nervousness than desire. “But you can stay, enjoy the festivities."

“Oh, I will not,” he said, shaking his head, his voice light yet firm. “These festivities are for both of us. And if you are not here, then there is no reason for me to stay.” He pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand, and as he did, you noticed the gesture had become almost habitual. And strangely, you realized how much you had come to cherish it. “And a husband,” he added with quiet certainty, “I shall follow you wherever you are.”

“Well, if you say so...” you smiled, a little bashful beneath his teasing tone, yet it stirred something warm inside you.

He called to Valerian, murmuring something to him, and moments later, the crowd’s attention was drawn to the space before the fire, signaling the beginning of a special dance.

“This is our cue,” Acacius said, his tone playful, almost boyish, as he gave you a mischievous look, his eyes gleaming with a shared secret. “Let us flee before anyone notices.”

“Oh, so now I see how strategic the great General of Rome is!” you teased him, your voice carrying lighthearted mockery. “What a meticulous plan, indeed.”

He guided you, his hand firm in yours, leading the way as he walked ahead. “So you laugh at me?” he quipped, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I rescue you with a successful plan, and what I get in return is mockery?” His tone was far from angry. In fact, it was the opposite—his humor was infectious. Your teasing had managed to draw out a genuine laugh from him, a sound that, for some reason, filled you with ease.

“Does the soldier wish something different for rescuing a princess in distress, like me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in playful defiance.

“Well, I do have some things in mind...” His voice dropped an octave, deepening with an unfamiliar edge. You had never heard him speak like this before. With a flick of his wrist, he opened the tent flap, gesturing for you to enter.

Inside, the space was breathtaking. The soft glow of candles cast dancing shadows on the walls, their light warm and inviting. The bed in the center was draped with white cushions, a serene haven in the midst of the night’s revelry. You looked at Acacius with a nervous glance, the anxiety stirring within you like a whirlwind.

“I asked Lena to make our chamber as comfortable as possible,” he said, his voice light, though you could hear the faint hesitation beneath. “I hope... I hope it suits you.” He stepped ahead, close to the bed, as though unsure of what to do next.

You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Your mother had spoken of certain things, and Vera, in her own way, had offered her limited knowledge during those quiet late nights you shared. But now, in this moment, all that seemed distant, irrelevant. The air was thick with uncertainty.

Noticing your unease, Acacius reached out, his hand extended with gentleness. “Come,” he said softly, his tone laced with warmth. You hesitated but moved toward him, your fingers finding the comfort of his hand. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want tonight,” he continued, his voice steady but kind. “I will never, ever force myself upon you, I promise.”

You lowered your gaze, the nerves flooding your chest, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke. “I truly don’t know what to do... I don’t want to disappoint you, but I am, one hundred percent, nervous.”

He gently lifted your chin with his thumb, his touch both firm and tender. “What about we continue from that night in the palace garden?” His words, though simple, brought an unexpected calmness to your fluttering heart. His reassuring smile made the world seem just a little less daunting, and for a brief moment, you felt as though it was okay to be vulnerable, to be unsure.

With a shy nod, you closed the distance between you, your lips finding his in a soft kiss—a quiet promise, a tentative step toward something new, yet familiar.

His lips met yours with a tenderness that belied the strength of his embrace. His hands moved with deliberate care, one encircling your waist to draw you nearer, the other cradling the nape of your neck as though safeguarding a fragile treasure. A fire kindled within you, growing with every heartbeat, and the desire to be closer—to dissolve entirely into him—overwhelmed you.

When he pulled away, it was only just enough to speak, his lips brushing yours as his breath mingled with your own. “I say we do this…” His voice was slightly uneven, breathless in a way that made your pulse quicken. “I’ll lead, but if at any moment you wish me to stop, if anything feels wrong—just say so. Do you understand?”

Your throat felt dry, and the words caught there for a moment before you nodded.

His brow furrowed slightly, and he tipped your chin to meet his gaze, his tone soft but firm. “I need to hear it, mea formosa.”

You swallowed the nerves tightening your chest and managed to whisper, “I will say it… husband.”

The word seemed to ripple through him, his entire frame shivering with a desire so palpable it left you breathless. His forehead pressed lightly to yours as his voice dropped, almost a growl. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

Before you could respond, his lips found the curve of your neck, tracing a slow, reverent path that left you gasping. A hum escaped you—whether in agreement, question, or sheer surrender, you could not tell. Words had deserted you, scattered like leaves in a tempest.

He chuckled softly against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. “Nothing to say now, hmm?” His voice carried a teasing lilt, playful yet intoxicatingly deep.

You couldn’t help the way your lips curved into a smile, though your breath came in shallow gasps. He always had this effect on you—the ability to coax laughter, longing, and love all at once, as if his very existence were a melody only you could hear.

The tension in the air shifted, transforming from anxious uncertainty into something tender and filled with trust. He leaned forward, capturing her lips once more in a kiss that was unhurried, as though they had all the time in the world. His hands moved with deliberate care, one cradling the back of her neck, the other tracing the curve of her waist. Each touch ignited a spark within her, building a warmth that spread through her entire being.

Aemilia let out a soft, involuntary sigh as his lips trailed from hers to her jaw, then to the sensitive skin of her neck. She tilted her head, granting him better access, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. “Acacius,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her hands trembling as they began to explore his broad shoulders and down his arms.

He guided her to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he were afraid to shatter the fragile intimacy that enveloped them. When they sat together, she felt the tremor in his hands as he gently brushed her hair away from her face. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “Do you know that?”

Aemilia’s blush deepened, but a newfound confidence stirred within her. “You...” she said softly, her tone carrying a playful edge, “you are not so bad yourself.”

His laughter was quiet but genuine, and the sound eased the lingering tension in her chest. “Not so bad? Coming from you, I shall consider it as gesture of your kindness” he teased, leaning closer, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth.

As the layers of clothing fell away, the barriers between them dissolved as well. She could feel his hesitation mingling with her own, yet his touch never wavered. He moved as though she were something precious, his fingertips tracing patterns along her skin that sent shivers down her spine. And when his hands trembled, she placed hers over his, steadying him.

“Acacius,” she whispered, her voice more assured now, “I want this. I want you.”

Her boldness surprised them both, but it was the spark he needed to fully let go of his own reservations. “You have all of me, Aemilia,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “Now and always.”

As the night unfolded, the initial hesitance melted away, replaced by a growing confidence in each other’s embrace. She surprised herself with the way she responded to his touch, her hands exploring the contours of his body with an eagerness she hadn’t known she possessed. He, in turn, was captivated by her courage, her willingness to meet him halfway and then some.

In the dimly lit room, shadows danced along the tent, casting an air of quiet intimacy. The soft rustle of fabric was the only sound that accompanied the slow, tender movements between them. She, poised yet determined, gently guided him back, her touch sending a shiver through him. Her eyes, darkened with a depth of feeling, met his, and in that fleeting moment, she pushed him back gently, taking the lead in a way that left him breathless.

"Want you so badly, it almost aches," he whispered, his voice low and thick, laden with both admiration and an undeniable hunger. The words hung between them, as if the very air was charged with unspoken desire.

She allowed herself a small, knowing smile, her lips curling ever so slightly as a mischievous glint flickered in her eyes. "That bad?" she teased, her voice soft but laden with a certain playfulness. "Well, coming from you, I shall take that as a gesture of your kindness."

He laughed, a warm sound that filled the space, and his fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch lingering on her skin. "It's not kindness," he said with a sincerity that made his words feel almost like a vow. "It's the truth. I can't fathom a life where you're not in my arms every moment. How could I bear such a thing?"

She gazed at him, her expression softening, the playfulness in her eyes replaced by something deeper, something quieter. Her hand, still resting against his chest, gave a gentle press, as if urging him to quiet his thoughts.

“Let’s not think of that,” she murmured, her voice low, the words like a delicate sigh, almost a plea.

He looked at her, as if trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze holding his with an intensity that made him forget everything but the two of them, standing there in a world of their own making.

A breath caught in his chest, and for a moment, it seemed as though time itself had paused, leaving them suspended in that quiet space between what was said and what remained unspoken. His fingers grazed her cheek, the touch almost reverent, as if every part of him ached to hold onto this moment, to keep her here, with him, as the rest of the world faded away

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

When their breaths finally slowed and they lay entwined beneath the soft glow of the candles, a comfortable silence settled over them. His fingers traced lazy circles on her bare shoulder, and she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

She bit her lip, already feeling the warmth of embarrassment creeping up her neck. "I apologize if I’m going beyond some limit by asking," she began, her voice soft and hesitant, as though she were testing the waters of a delicate subject. "But… I feel like I should know, perhaps… Or I’m just curious, and I wish to know. I’m your wife, and I believe we should know some details of each other’s lives."

Her voice trailed off, and she realized she might have spoken more than she intended, her words almost mumbling now, as though retreating into herself. Her heart fluttered, uncertainty swelling in her chest.

"Out with it," he said, his tone light, yet there was a warmth there that softened the words. His hand found its way to her side, pinching her gently, the touch playful, even affectionate, easing some of the tension.

She hesitated, feeling her breath catch in her throat before she spoke again, lifting her gaze from his chest to meet his eyes. "Have you ever… done this before?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her heart raced as she sought the truth in his expression, wondering how he would answer, what that truth might be.

He froze for just a heartbeat, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words, the right way to explain. The seconds seemed to stretch on forever, leaving her to wonder if perhaps he wouldn't answer at all. But then, his voice broke the silence, serious and steady. "I was raised differently, so yes," he replied, his gaze steady, his words deliberate. "I have done it before."

She could feel a ripple of discomfort pass through her, but before she could let the silence grow too thick, he reached for her hands, his fingers gentle against hers. He held them there for a moment, still, the weight of his touch grounding her. "But this..." he continued, his voice softer now, as if he were confessing a truth that had only just occurred to him. "This is new to me as much as it is new to you. It never felt like this."

The words lingered in the space between them, charged with something deeper than she had expected. She could feel the sincerity in his tone, the truth in his touch. For a moment, time seemed to pause, and in that pause, she realized that this, what they were sharing, was something entirely their own, something neither of them could quite put into words, yet both understood fully.