#so obviously she's going to be a fleshed out character

[mmogurl]

In The Shadow of Dragons Chapter 5: Flower

18+ | 5.6k | Daemon Targaryen X Female OC | possessive, protective, objectifying, simping, raunchy Daemon | Uncle / niece incest, Smut, First Time Oral, Semi Public Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, V fingering, Targcest, Courtship

This scene was kind of sweet, going back to the gift he had attempted to give Ryna on that day when he returned from the Stepstones some years back. It also rolls into their first real physical encounter, besides that closeness they shared on the terrace in the first chapter. Daemon trying so hard to be good, but not that hard xD Told from Daemon's POV.

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5

The two of them walked in silence for a time, Ryna’s arm in his, until they were past the guards and into the long corridor that led towards the outer yard. Once safely out of sight of any witnesses, Daemon suddenly pulled her into a nearby alcove, jostling a vase on the table beside them as he pressed her tightly against the wall. His eyes glittered with excitement, barely disguising his darker desires as he stared down at her.

At her startled gasp, his mouth curled into that familiar smirk. “You, my little niece,” he said in a growl, “did extremely well back there.”

The look of surprise quickly faded from her face, replaced with an air of indignity. “Can you believe she had the nerve to call me dull? I am still livid.” She huffed, her cheeks rosing with the sufferance of insults and not embarrassment for once.

He let out a quick series of pointed laughs against his lips before replying. “She clearly has no taste. You are anything but dull, sweetling. You are fire made flesh.” He had enjoyed seeing her behave in such a daring manner at breakfast, relishing in her cheeky attitude. Daemon had not thought his pure and sweet little niece capable of such aggression, but evidently he had been wrong.

“Do not let her get to you,” he added, tracing a finger along her jawline. “Your father summed it up perfectly. Rhaenyra behaves like an entitled, petulant child throwing a tantrum until she gets her way.” His gaze lingered on her plush lips, recalling the kiss they had shared the night before.

Oblivious to his attentions, despite the obviousness of his proximity, she continued to vent her frustrations. “And to think she called me, a Targaryen princess, with fire and blood running through my veins, ‘still as a pond!’ Even a Velaryon would be offended to hear such insults spouted against them!”

He snickered with a playful look in his eye, the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. Though his niece had never displayed an inclination towards angry outbursts in the past, today’s incident had led him to wonder if her character was more akin to his own quick-tempered nature rather than the complacent demeanor of his brother.

Ryna’s ongoing tirade was abruptly cut off when Daemon held a finger to her lips, silencing her mid-speech. “Enough of that,” he said, his voice authoritative yet tinged with a hint of allure. “You are far too exquisite to waste your time complaining about a brat like Rhaenyra.”

Daemon leaned in a little more until he was so close that he could feel her breath against his face. “There are far more enjoyable things you could be doing that with that pretty mouth of yours.” His words were a soft insinuation spanning the possibilities between mostly innocent to entirely lewd. It certainly got her attention, her eyes darting up to his with a shy expression.

He pressed a simple kiss against her lips, wetting them with his tongue slightly as he savored the taste of her. His eyes rolled back for a split second as he let out a groan and pulled away, knowing he could not control himself lest he continue. The hall they were in was often traveled and not the best spot for an interlude. They would find more privacy in the gardens.

The princess became flush in response to the small demonstration of affection, the region below her collarbone now a bright pink in contrast to her alabaster skin.

My sweet niece. It doesn ’t take much, does it?

Daemon then took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers and led Ryna back down their originally intended route towards the garden. “We have something more important to discuss, Niece.”

“Such as?” she asked, trying in vain to compose herself as she looked up at him curiously.

“Our courtship, of course,” he said in a playful tone as they approached the exit.

They passed through the stone arch that led out into the garden proper and walked down the trail through the carefully manicured greenery until they reached the inner garden. It was surrounded by tall rose bushes, secluded and out of sight from the main walks. Water trickled from an ornate fountain of a dragon into a small pond edged with smooth rocks and there was a stone bench beside it so one might sit and enjoy the scenery.

He guided her to take a seat on the solid slate bench looking out over the waters and rustled in his pocket to fish something out. Daemon smiled fondly as he got down on his knees before her. Another shocked, almost frightened expression crossed her face, her eyes growing wide at the thought of what he might be up to.

Innocent little thing.

Reaching up, he tucked a loose strand of her Valyrian white-gold hair back into place behind her ear, letting his fingers remain on her face longer than perhaps was necessary. He found himself mesmerized all over again by her beauty, her purity, and the way she could make him feel simultaneously protective and sinful.

If only she knew how much he thought about her, his sweet, chaste little Ryna. How he wanted to claim her as his own and ruin her completely, yet at the same time, he wanted to shield her from all other harm. The irony of it made him both sick and excited all at once. He had been a man of vices, of carnal pleasure, with no thought given to any future consequences, and here he was for the first time, experiencing what it was to restrain himself for another. At least somewhat…

His hand lowered, brushing against her thigh as he took her hand once more, running his thumb over her knuckles gently as he began to speak.

“Sweetling,” his voice was soft and deep in the quiet solitude of the garden. “I have something for you.”

His niece’s expression changed, from worry to a veiled delight. “For me? What is it?”

She always did love it when he brought her gifts upon returning from his travels, whether they be from afar or direct from the streets of King’s Landing.

Daemon turned her hand and spread her fingers apart so that Ryna’s palm was exposed. Not allowing her to see what was in his closed fist, he placed it above her outstretched hand and let the trinket fall slowly until it settled into her grasp with a clink.

The princess’ eyes lit up as he removed his hand, finally allowing her an unobstructed view of his present. It was a very unique bracelet, one he’d had fashioned for her by the same grateful peasants who’d created his crown, to commemorate his victory over the Crabfeeder. It was crafted with small bits of rough sandstone, seashells and driftwood from the beaches on the Stepstones, and accented with an orange gemstone that was abundant on the islands.

“It is beautiful, Uncle,” she marveled at the intricate little shells and beaded stones.

Not as beautiful as you, my sweet, delicious, little peach.

“I’m pleased it’s to your liking,” he smiled softly at her. It was exactly the response he was hoping for. Watching her face as she looked over each tiny detail made him feel a mix of satisfaction and desire. It had taken all of his willpower thus far to resist her innate charms, and he wasn’t certain that it would hold for much longer. “Allow me to put it on for you, sweetling,” he said assuringly, already taking the bracelet from her hand and unclasping it so that he might wrap it around her slender wrist.

“I had meant to gift this to you when I returned from the Stepstones, but I found I simply could not.” His words were almost somber as he closed the clasp carefully, securing it in place.

“I remember,” she said with a touch of sadness. “That was when things changed. When you began to avoid me.” Her eyes wandered off in thought, her gaze cast across the water for a moment before returning to him with a fiery determination. “What happened? Why did I repulse you so when we embraced that day?”

Daemon was impressed, if not also taken aback, by the clarity of her memory. In fact it shook a more direct response from him than he was typically accustomed to giving. “You could never repulse me, my dearest niece,” he began, struggling to find the right words to explain himself without directly stating what he truly felt on that day five years ago when their bodies entwined. “I merely… It was for your own good.”

When I first realized that my desire for you had begun to take root.

“It did not seem like it was for my own good,” she contended his reasoning, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. “I have missed you all of these years.”

“I know, sweetling. I missed you as well.” If only she knew how he’d longed to return to the way things were before that moment. He hadn’t realized how much he’d yearned for the smiling face of his darling little cherub, his precious jewel, until it was gone, forever replaced with the reality of his lust.

Even though he’d already mentioned his aversion to tainting her the night before, it seemed she was still incognizant to why he had started to withdraw from her, believing it was due to some shortcoming on her own part. He had no desire for her to shoulder the blame of his own perverse desires though, so perhaps some further explanation was due. Still knelt before her, Daemon placed his hands on either side of her hips, nudging forward so that he was closer and just about nestled between her legs. A crooked smile crossed his face as he spoke once more. “Do you know why I started to avoid you?”

The princess seemed a touch flustered by his intimate proximity, but did not stay his hand. “I could not say. I only knew that before you left, I had been your cherished niece and upon your return… Suddenly it seemed you held my very presence in contempt. Then before I knew it, you had been sent away again and I had no idea what to think about it.”

If only you knew, little sweetling.

He chuckled at her naivety. It was endearing how pure his little girl still was. His fingers gently rubbed her hips through the soft fabric of her velvet gown. “You really don’t know, do you?” his tone was almost sarcastic, finding it hard to believe she hadn’t the slightest inkling. The look of worried concern did not waver from her face and he knew it was true. Daemon leaned in closer, his nose close to the swell of her breast. He allowed himself to inhale the sweet smell of her skin, all the while the warmth of her body was radiating outwards. He looked up, finding her expression heavy with longing, craving reconciliation.

“Did you ever stop to think that perhaps I avoided you because I found you too tempting?” Daemon’s eyes roamed down her figure before returning back to her face, taking in every little response. It seemed he would always be torn by his lust for Ryna.

She did not respond immediately, but instead averted her gaze to the bracelet he’d given her. Perhaps she was putting all of the pieces together in her mind, recalling past events and how they might be reshaped with the new knowledge he’d presented her with. His little niece seemed confused, as if unable to fathom that his desires had kept him away.

“But…” she started to speak, the words fizzling on her tongue. “If you… Then why?” Her lavender irises turned back to him with puzzlement. It seemed she’d come to terms with the idea much sooner than he had.

“Why?”

The question echoed with a laugh from his lips. How could he ever hope to explain the depraved thoughts that had consumed him whenever he’d seen her sweet body during those years. How tortured he became whenever he allowed himself to imagine the debased ways he wished to use her. Yet, she was looking to him for an answer, her eyes wide and her pink lips parted in confusion. “Why,” he said once again, taking a deep breath. “Because you were far too innocent. A wholly pure thing in this corrupt world. Even I am not that wicked.”

There, he’d said it. The truth was out. A twisted admission, but an admission nonetheless. The words, as well as the secret, that had tormented him for years were now finally released into the open. But her expression did not convey the disgust he’d expected. Instead, there was a look in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place. “Too young. Too sweet. You should never have known the depths of depravity running through …” he began to explain, but as he looked upon her face, he realized her features had shifted to something more akin to anticipation.

Gods, that look on your face …

The little princess’ lips were parted in expectation, her breath growing quicker with each passing second. There was something untamed he saw in her eyes that threatened to set his entire being ablaze. “You’ve heard tales of what a degenerate I am, haven’t you, sweetling?”

“Who in the Seven Kingdoms has not?” she admitted with ease, her expression unflinching while her hands danced restlessly on the surface of the bench.

“Then you know what a wretched man I am…” he spoke in a lower tone, his nose brushing against the pucker of her breast for a moment. “The vices I give into… The women and wine that I consume without reservation.”

Daemon raised a hand up to her face, his fingers tenderly tracing along the length of her jawline. “Does it not frighten you?”

“How could I possibly be afraid of you?” she mused, her voice laced with affectionate reassurance. She brought one of those fidgeting hands to rest gently upon his head, tentatively smoothing back his bright blond tresses. “I will admit I lack the same level of experience that you possess, Uncle, but it does not diminish my own curiosity and eagerness to learn.”

He tried to resist the shiver that wracked through his body as her fingers ran through his silvery gold hair. Daemon’s hand glided down the length of her skirts, skimming over the fabric until he reached the hem. Slipping his fingers below, he groaned at the feel of her leg, soft and silky beneath his palm.

How can you not be afraid of me, little sweetling? I am a fox in the hen house.

Her words had struck him in a way that he was not expecting. It seemed unnatural, given what he’d confessed and what she surely must suspect he desired from her.

“How eager are you, sweet girl?” he asked with the last ounce of his restraint as he continued upward, cresting her knee. “Eager enough to let me show you how debased I truly am?”

Ryna appeared a touch uneasy, but did not move to stop him. It was as though she had already resigned herself to exploring wherever this moment might take them. She swallowed before replying, her voice a low whisper as she continued to stroke his hair. “I cannot resist you, Uncle.”

What a dangerous thing to admit, my sweet little niece.

Daemon pressed a kiss against the exposed skin between her cleavage as his fingers crept higher. He found purchase on her inner thigh, gripping the smooth flesh there with barely constrained hunger as he felt the heat emanating from her core. His mind was filled with sinful thoughts the likes of which this pure, untouched flower could not possibly begin to imagine - but even still, she was willing. A small breathless laugh passed his lips and the little whimper of submission elicited from his sweetling was like the most deadly, yet intoxicating of poisons. Her soft sounds nearly pushing him over the edge, so obliging was she to accept his perversions.

“I promised your father I would not bed you until the wedding night…” he finally broke the silence as he laved another wet kiss upon the slope of her chest. “I admit, I’m still not convinced I can wait that long, but there are ways to stay… Occupied… For a time. To keep that curiosity of yours sated.”

Daemon’s eyes returned to hers, finding a look of trepidation in her gaze like he had never seen. She was too pristine, too eager, too wholesome for what he sought to give her. And, Gods forbid, if she ever did let him take all that she had, he feared there would be no going back. He’d become a man possessed.

For now though, given she was inclined to test the waters, he would explore how much of an agreeable lamb she truly was. He ran his tongue along her collarbone, his thumb digging into the fatty meat of her inner thigh.

“Do you trust me, sweetling? He asked, looking up once more into those pale lilac eyes, almost silvery in their sheen.

“Y-yes…” she stuttered, willing but still nervous.

He looked into her anxious eyes for a moment more, searching for any hint of doubt. But he could only find her inexperience, her apprehension, and ultimately her anticipation. Had Daemon not regarded her as so naive and innocent, he’d have believed she was getting off on this, and perhaps she was. His mouth curled into a smirk, wearing a wicked, wolfish countenance of intent. A quiet laugh escaped his lips as he grasped the waist of her smallclothes, and pulled down the short pair of braies until she was completely exposed beneath her skirts. Daemon placed a hand on each of her tender thighs, looking up at her with a devious spark in his eyes.

“Slide to the edge of the bench and lean back, little dragon,” he urged her, all but salivating at the thought of what she might taste like. Completely untouched, unspoiled, and just for him.

Ryna slowly shifted her hips forward, an embarrassed blush in her cheeks as she followed his bidding. “Good girl,” the sweet praise fell from his lips in a guttural moan. “Now let me take care of you. I’ll make you feel good.”

Daemon’s heart pounded in his chest as he knelt before his little niece, bunching up her skirts enough so that he might duck his head beneath her gown. The scent of her arousal was overwhelming, a sweet, crisp perfume that only served to heighten his desire. He inhaled deeply, taking in the sight, the smell, the very essence of her.

With a flick of his wrist, he swept her juices onto his thumb, bringing it to his lips and tasting her. A low grown rumbled in his chest as he licked her wetness from his finger, the taste of her intoxicating. He lowered his head, his tongue dipping between her folds and eliciting a startled gasp and jolt from Ryna. Daemon wrapped his arm around her thigh, holding her in place as he began to devour her like a starving man.

He spread her apart carefully, alternating between laving her bud with the flat of his tongue and the pinpoint of the tip, delighting in the way her hips bucked with each intense sensation. Daemon slid his fingers down through her wetness, teasing her tight entrance with the promise of penetration. His cock was rigid and aching in his trousers, leaving a mess as he leaked seed to the taste and feel of her purity. He’d give anything to have her fully bare in his bed right now, to be able to see everything all at once, to touch and take what he wanted.

Soon … Soon..

Ryna’s body was trembling beneath his touch, her soft little whimpers and moans driving him absolutely mad. She sounded so lurid for such a sinless creature and finally delving into her tight heat with his index finger was all he could do to keep from enacting the near constant thought of how good it might feel to fuck her. The thought of the noises she would make when something much bigger than his tongue or finger were instead driving into her pretty, virgin cunt consuming him.

His finger circled her inner walls, teasing her as he continued to pleasure her with his tongue, flicking and lapping at her pearl until she was writhing beneath him. He could feel the taut lining of muscle tensing at his intrusion and smiled against her wetness at the sound of her insistent cries. Daemon slid another finger into her now sopping wet core, wincing at how tightly her walls were gripping him.

He began to pump his fingers in and out of her in a steady, forceful rhythm, his tongue circling her swollen bud before he sucked it into his mouth. Ryna shot up like a lightning bolt at the acute feel of it, the combination causing her to arch her back into him as her peak built. There were a dozen filthy, raunchy things he’d love to purr in her ears at that moment, but there was no way he was going to stop until he brought her to completion.

Ryna shuddered and jerked, her moans growing louder and more desperate as she finally let go, climaxing in a beautiful splendor of shaking thighs and ragged breath. Her hands shot to his head even through the gown, trying to push him away now that her swollen bud had grown too sensitive. Daemon let her free of his suction, laving the nub softly with the flat of his tongue and sliding his fingers out of her snug little hole. She squealed as he lapped through her folds, the creamy sweetness of her come tasting like the most decadent ambrosia.

Fuck, I will not be able to stop myself if I keep at it like this …

Daemon bit his cheek with a wince, trying to rein in his urges as he removed his head from under her skirts. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he soon forgot his own need at the pride that surged through him upon seeing her flushed cheeks, her heaving chest exhausted and panting, the evidence of his ministrations and the pleasure she’d just experienced apparent all over her body.

As she locked eyes with him, she sounded tired, but excited all the same, “God! I have… But never like that… What in the Seven Hells was that!?”

A smug, yet satisfied chuckle escaped his mouth at her comment as he slipped her foot through the free opening of her smallclothes and slid them back up. He moved to sit beside her on the bench, his cock still straining against his pants painfully, a testament to just how much he had enjoyed the taste of her.

“That, my sweetling, was your first lesson in pleasure,” Daemon said as he leaned into her, his lips finding her neck and pressing a hungry kiss upon the delicate skin there.

She writhed under his lips, still so sensitive from his efforts. It was enough to drive him utterly mad with need. He could not recall anyone so perfect, anything so divine in his entire life. How could he ever be satisfied with another after this?

“You will be the death of me, my precious girl,” he mumbled against her shoulder, burying his nose into her hair and taking in the bouquet of roses, cinnamon, and styrax in her fragrance. “I can tell neither of us are creatures of restraint, sweetling,” he let out a sharp laugh as he pulled away from the temptation. “But Gods help, I am trying.”

He sat roughly against the back of the stone bench, comforted by the pressure of its hard surface. Daemon ventured a look into those pale lavender eyes and ran a hand across her chin, tilting her head up so that she was forced to meet his gaze. His voice took on a graver note, seeking to assert the seriousness of his words.

“If your father accepts our betrothal… I need to know that you want this. Jāhor ao sagon biare, riñītsos?” Will you be happy, little girl?

Ryna’s brow furrowed, either confused or hurt by the inquiry. “What kind of question is that? Of course…” she peered at him now with a smoldering intensity. “Nyke jaelagon ao, Daemon.” I want you, Daemon.

“Se jaelan ao, zaldrītsos,” he replied with a quick sigh. And I want you, little dragon. “But you are so young and inexperienced, and I…”

I may be too much for you to handle. You engage with a beast, sweetling. I am possessed by the need to control you and to keep you near me in every way possible, both well intentioned and depraved as well. He shook his head to bat the thoughts away, pushing down the worry and fear that were creeping to the surface. He didn’t want to risk losing her, but he also couldn’t bear the thought that she might one day look at him with contempt in her eyes. “You’ve never known another man, Niece. You do not know the extent of my desire.”

“Iksan daor riña,” she retorted in a defiant tone, her eyes locked on his with a look that could only be described as downright challenging. I am no child. “It seems you cling to these persistent ideas, Uncle. That I am too young… That you are too debauched for me. That I couldn’t possibly be happy with you… And to be honest, such worries are insulting to us both. I am not some pathetic little whelp in need of your pity. I know full well what I want.”

She exhaled through her nose with frustration, her features proud as she continued. “I would not choose a suitor for years because I did not want any of them. I knew they would not stoke my fire and keep my interest. I chose you and that is all that should matter. Inexperience can be mended by exposure, and I have never thought ill of you. I have felt jealousy and confusion, yes, I have missed you, but I have never felt poorly.”

Daemon felt a spark ignite within him as she spoke, her voice and words filled with passion and conviction. But, she was a stubborn thing, his little niece. His princess. A perfect mix of both fire and ice all the same. He would have found her impudence amusing if not for the fact that he too was feeling a hint of irritation begin to boil inside of him.

He let out a laugh that was nearly a scoff. “And do you think yourself ready for the full extent of it?” he riposted, his voice hardening. “Do you have any idea the dark desires that swirl in the recesses of my mind?” Her facade cracked slightly as a hint of doubt crept across her face. Of course she had no way of knowing what he actually thought of in the privacy of his own licentious mind. It was obvious the unknown concerned her from the winkle on her forehead, but she did not back down.

Ryna’s voice softened considerably, a blush returning to her cheeks. “You could show me… Teach me… In a way that is not too overwhelming.” Her eyes brightened with mild epiphany. “Like you did today.”

Once again, he found himself caught between a sense of pride that she seemed so willing to face whatever he might bring forth and the fear that he might break her.

“And if I can’t hold back, little girl?” he mumbled against her ear, leaning in and resting his chin against her the crown of her head. “My appetites… They are strong… Violent… Depraved… You could not imagine all that I want to do you.”

“Why must I fathom it all?” she asked with longing in her eyes as she wet her lower lip with her tongue. There was an obvious arousal present in her body language and the flicker of her features.

“Because, sweetling,” he replied, cupping her chin in his hand and gently forcing her to meet his eyes once more. “If we go down this road, there is no turning back. I will consume you, dear girl. I will take and take until you forget what it is to live without me.”

I cannot stop even now. That small taste of you was simply not enough.

“You realize I will ruin you for anyone else?” he stared into those piercing lilac eyes, shining bright with desire and need.

“I don’t take issue with that for I do not wish to have another. Only you, Uncle,” she spoke with conviction, but her cheeks blushed at the notion.

Gods, you have no idea what you are doing to me.

Daemon’s heart ached with so many warring emotions. His little niece - he feared he could not resist when it came to her. “Then… I will show you… I shall try my best to ease you into the darkness,” he whispered as he nudged his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer.

He captured her lips once more in a hungry kiss, his cock twitching at the thought of her keen obeisance - at hearing her proclaim that she only wanted him. It made his possessive nature flare with lust that he knew he must keep in check for now.Ryna was already moving closer though, the little minx, twisting towards him as her leg struggled against her skirts to rise over his. “Stop…” he murmured against her lips, feeling his self-restraint slipping. He gripped her shoulders tight, keeping her at bay as he withdrew from the kiss.

He could tell from the look in those tempestuous eyes that she was still riding the high of her climax, lovedrunk by the feelings he’d coaxed out of her body. Daemon truly loved how eager she was, but if he gave in completely to his own impulses, it might wind up destroying any chance they had at wedding. He was certainly not willing to let her go now that he’d come so close to having her.

But how is a man to hold back from such a sweet, delicious flower?

He clutched her arms with a little more force than necessary as he pushed her back against the bench and pulled away from her. With grit teeth he busied his hands so that they might not wander again, smoothing the pleats of his long wool jerkin back into place.

“I said I would ease you in, sweetling.. Not toss you over the edge,” he chuffed at her, making it known that he was not to be trifled with any farther. With a slight cough, he cleared his throat and took a deep breath before pursuing the topic of their courtship. “Now what plans shall we make to ensure that my dear old brother, Viserys, thinks that we are courting properly?”

Ryna was slow to reply, a bewildered look on her face mixed with a slight pout of disappointment. “I’m not sure…” she finally answered. “We have already strolled in the garden and you have presented me with a gift. So, today has been a good start to it.”

“Yes, little one. I do believe today has been a very good start. But not good enough,” he countered as he stood up and offered his hand to her. “My dear brother will not believe that a rake like me has suddenly become a proper gentleman without proof. We must make a very open display of our integrity.”

“What about a dinner? Or perhaps a packed lunch that we might enjoy on the beach that overlooks the Blackwater Bay. We might even stop by the Dragonpit. I could introduce you to my girl.” Her disposition had improved considerably at the mention of her dragon and he couldn’t help but smile as he helped her up from the bench.

Come to think of it, he did remember hearing that his sweetling had claimed a rather powerful creature, one of the older and larger dragons that had not been reclaimed since its previous owner. He felt a thrill at the thought of meeting such an ancient beast, at seeing his little niece mount a powerful dragon.

She will mount another soon …

He chuckled to himself as he let out a velvety smooth reply, leading them back down the path through the garden. “That sounds like a fine idea,” he purred, enjoying the thought of gaining some measure of freedom outside the confines of the keep. “And I cannot wait to meet your dragon, my sweetling. No doubt, Caraxes will be eager to see you again as well. I do believe that grumpy old snake preferred you to me when last I took you riding.”

Ryna beamed at his insinuation, giggling softly as they came out from the worn trail and entered the open expanse of the garden’s grassy courtyard. “I wouldn’t say that, Uncle, but he was certainly kind in nature towards me. A good boy. I look forward to seeing him up close again.”

His lips curled into an amused smile at her joyful reaction to being reunited with the beast. “Indeed… And I look forward to watching you ride, all on your own, without need of your uncle to supervise you,” he said with a slight rasp.

The image of her straddling that massive dragon, handling its reins and commanding it in the Valyrian tongue was enough to get his member swelling in his breeches again.

“Tell me, sweetling. Which beast did you tame again?” he asked trying to distract himself from other wandering thoughts.

“Oh, didn’t anyone ever tell you?” she smirked with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “I laid claim to Silverwing. Queen Alysanne’s beloved mount.”

[cyren-myadd]

James Cameron has written Neytiri and Spider's relationship before...

Recently I went on a kick of rewatching old sci-fi movies, including the James Cameron ones of course, and I noticed an interesting little pattern in JC's storytelling:

In Terminator 2 we have our protagonist Sarah Connor. In the first movie she was almost killed by the first terminator, so in the second movie, when she meets the new terminator, she's understandably distrustful of it even though her son, John, trusts it. However, the new terminator proves itself to be loyal to John, so she realizes she doesn't have to be distrustful and even comes to rely on it in the end.

Then in Alien 2 we have Ellen Ripley. In the first movie, Ripley was almost killed because of the android Rook, so in the second movie, when she meets a new android, Bishop, she's understandably distrustful of him even though the other human characters trust him. Just like the new terminator, Bishop proves himself to be loyal, and Ripley realizes she can trust him and they become friends by the end (and stay friends for the rest of their lives because I like to pretend Alien 3 didn't happen 😭)

Now we have the Avatar sequels and Neytiri. In the first Avatar, Neytiri was almost killed by Quaritch, so in the second movie, when she's around his son, she's extremely distrustful even though her family members trust Spider... hmm I wonder how James Cameron is going to resolve that conflict? 🤔

Obviously, Neytiri/Spider's relationship is more complicated and ugly than Ripley/Bishop and Sarah Connor/the second Terminator, but the story beats are still lining up the same. We don't know the conclusion to Neytiri and Spider's relationship conflict just yet, but looking at James Cameron's other works, I think he may be setting up to follow the same pattern as Alien 2 and Terminator 2.

Having a main protagonist realize she was wrong about someone and change her views on them is a story beat James Cameron seems to enjoy writing, and it's one that works really well. Giving a character flaws and having them grow and change is what creates compelling character arcs!

Avatar co-writer Amanda Silver even commented on the narrative purpose of Neytiri disliking Spider in an interview: "Neytiri is a fully fleshed-out character. She’s got flaws. So it’s okay to let her have flaws, we think. And that’s where Jim was coming from."

All this is to say that no, we are not going to see Neytiri murder Spider in Avatar 3 like many young fans hope, that would be a horribly depressing conclusion for her character arc; to never be challenged on her biases and never have to reflect on her views and grow. I for one am really excited to see how James Cameron and co resolve their conflict since their relationship has a lot more bad blood than the other two examples did!

[balconyswirls]

.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Lineup of all of the characters that appear long enough to need a visual representation of them in the game lol

[vulcanhello]

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Say yes to me

Paring: fem!reader x alpha!Nat

Warnings: SMUT, a/b/o, alpha Nat, omega reader, consensual human trafficking?, sex toys, begging, praise kink, pet names, breeding, unprotected sex, creampie, belly bulges, age gap (obviously)

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!

A/N: look who’s back

Masterlist-

You were prepared for once belonging to an powerful alpha, after all you had spent all your upbringing on a farm designed to produce omegas like you. In a world where most of the population either consisted of betas or alphas your kind was especially rare. Which meant there weren’t enough omegas for the alphas and that concluded in the farms like the one you had grew up in. The avengers mostly consisted of alphas, alphas with mates. Tony had Pepper, Clint had Laura and Nat had well no one until now. Tony thought he had been a damn genius when he got the idea what to get Nat for her 40th birthday. Why not get the alpha her very own mate? 

Natasha couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw you, younger, unmated and exactly her type. She was grateful for her gift of course, ever since she got you she had been all over you. Trying to make you hers. Natasha despised the idea by mating you by force so she tried her best to appeal to you. You were surprised by the kindness of the older alpha as she respected your borders and never made you uncomfortable. She’d take you out to dinner, watch your favourite movies and even teach you some martial art. 

You were certain to mate with her after all it wasn’t like you had much of a choice, however you weren’t complaining. You didn’t want her, no, you needed her. Every time you sat down on her lap and let her cock strain in her boxers. You tried to kiss her again and again but it never brought you anywhere. She insisted on waiting until your second heat which one bothered you more after all you hadn’t even had your first. 

"Please Tasha" you whined rolling your hips in anticipation for her. "You know what the farm said mating in your sleeping with an alpha in your first heat only makes it wore" You rolled you eyes sitting up to get a better view of the assassin sitting on the edge of the king sized bed. "I need it, please touch me, please. You begged her. "We can use the toys they gave you for your heat" She prosed, it took everything in her not to mate you right now. 

"Better than nothing" You signed watching Natasha tug off your shorts. She climbed up your body catching your lips in a heated kiss. You released whimpers as she shoved her tongue down her throat. You rocked your hips against hers, crotch on crotch as you tried to get her attention. "Fuck, you're a naughty girl" She groaned kissing down your neck to your chest nibbling on the sensitive skin of your breasts. "Please Tasha, please" you begged her "I'll make it better I promise кроли" Her calling you russian pet names only made you go even more crazy. 

She had you laying on her chest with your back your legs spread over her crotch. One hand played with your breast using it as a sort of stress ball as she paled the sensitive flesh with her veiny hands. The other one held a vibrator to your puffy clit as you buckled your hips desperately against the toy. She had put it on a low setting enough to make you get close to your edge but not enough to actually make you cum. You moaned right in the older woman's ear in an attempted to get her to break her facade and finally mate you. 

After a while of teasing your puffy cunt he decided to finally turn the toy up to give you the sweet release. You threw your head back on her shoulder crying out for a release. "Good girl" She praised you once more turning the device higher. "Come on sweet girl cum for me, cum for your alpha" With a few more rolls of your hips you had your release pressing your face into her neck as you clenched around nothing. Natasha helped you through your first orgasm of the night but you were far from satisfied, you were going to get her to mate with you that day. 

Natasha seemingly not aware of your determination stood up from the bed to get a wash cloth from the bath couldn't believe her eyes when she came back to her bed room. You had placed yourself on her bed on all fours you back arched to present your tripping holes to the older alpha. "Please alpha breed me" You whined your face smushed against the soft pillow. 

"Fuck you're making this hard for me baby girl" she chuckled standing behind you to palm your ass. "Jus' take me this rule is so stupid" you complained, there had been this stupid rule of not mating in your first heat because it should be something every omega should get over with however you couldn't care less. You could hear her unbuckling her belt before hearing the sound  of the zipper going down. She placed herself behind you rubbing two fingers through your slit before pushing them past your tight hole. 

"Fuck you're tighter than I thought but I'll make it fit кролик" She smirked pulling her fingers out again before alining her self behind you. Natasha pushed her hips forward pushing her cock into for weeping hole. She was big, bigger than you thought but after a while her stretch was so delicious you'd never want anything else. After she bottomed you out she waited for your approval to move. Her hands smooth over your lower back and womb feeling a small bump where the head of your cock was whimpering at the feeling of your tight walls behind her. 

"Please, Natty, move" You breathed out anticipating the movement of the older woman. She started to pump her dick in and out your already sensitive cunt. You couldn't help but release sweet whimpers at the fast pace she had she had set. One arm sneaked around your body pulling you up against her chest as she never stopped pounding into you. She released an almost animalistic groan before biting down on your shoulder making you cry out to mark you as her mate.

"Fuck" She groaned into your ear "I'm gonna fuck you pregnant, you'll be tripping with my cum when I'm done with you" "Please Tasha breed me with your pups" You cried out. One of her exercised hands found its way to your overstimulated Clit rubbing the nub.  "Cum, cum with me" She called out before releasing inside of your womb painting the insides white as her knot formed making her slow her movement. That triggered your own orgasm making you see stars. 

She held you close caressing your body and whispering sweet nothings into you ear as she writhe for her knot to disappear. After awhile she pulled out to place you on the soft mattress she took a look between your leg to see your ruined cunt sum tripping out of your abused hole onto the beddings. The sight only made her hard again. "Ready for round 2" 

:)

[mariasont]

I'm so glad you love writing for bimbo reader x Hotch because i love READING them so much 💕

What about reader getting jealous a witness or unsub is flirting with Hotch? Kinda like how the prostitutes are always flirting with Reid but this time it's Hotch getting all awkward and reader misreading it and thinking he's interested back?

Love your stuff!

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY - A.H

a/n: hi so im so glad you love bimbo reader 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 that literally makes me so happy, thank you sm for requesting i hope you like that <3

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: reader being jelly, kind of out of character for bimbo reader honestly, she’s also a little flustered in this fic which also feels out of character but i kind of like it idk lmk what yall think

wc: 1.2k

The space between her hand and Hotch's bicep was dangerously narrow. She was saying something--something that was way flirtier than the situation required. Matter of fact than any situation required. Your pink nails, the same shade as your favorite bubblegum lip gloss, dug into the flesh of your palm, your lips forming a tight line as you fought the green jealousy that bubbled up like champagne.

It was fine. You were fine.

Until it wasn't.

She flashed a smile at Hotch, one that was undeniably pretty which only served to make your blood boil a degree hotter.

She was stunning, black hair, red lips, perfect skin. You loved yourself, obviously, but it was not in your character to deny that this woman was gorgeous by nature and she was edgeding her chair closer to him.

"Thank you so much for your help today, Agent Hotchner." Her voice had climbed a few pitches in comparison than when she was talking privately with you. "Is it okay if I give you my number, just in case I think of anything else?"

"Of course." Hotch was smiling-- no beaming--at the woman, reaching into his pocket to grab his business card.

Your lashes fluttered up and down is disbelief, jealously rolling off of you in category nine waves. You folded your hands on top of your skirt, cleaning and unclenching until you started to lose feeling in your fingertips.

You're fine, just take a deep breath. Hotch was simply being polite. That's it. But the rationalized thoughts in your head did not match the quicksand feeling in your stomach.

Unfortunately for you, showing and expressing your feelings in an appropriate manner had always been a struggle. Articulating when things were bothering you was a foreign language to you. The other side to this was you had no logical reason to feel the way you did. He was your boss, and you were his assistant. He wasn't your boyfriend. But that fine distinction did nothing to dampen the primal impulse to reach across the desk and drag the woman by her hair. 

That was dramatic, really. It was unfair to project your ugly feelings onto her when in all honestly, in her position, you’d be doing the exact same.

As much as you loved your job and adored your boss, sometimes you wished you didn’t work for him so you could push the boundaries just a little bit when it came to flirting with him.

Thankfully, for the sake of your career, the woman gone before your rash instincts could manifest into action. You needed to get a grip and possibly go reapply your lipstick.

You spent the majority of the day, from that point, avoiding Hotch like the plague. You weren't quite equipped to sift through the emotional chaos brewing inside you, especially when your focus needed to be on getting your tasks done, not on who Hotch might be interested in. It didn't matter if he liked that woman. You could cope. Maybe.

When you did have to come into contact with him, you found yourself acting like a wounded animal. The sight of his face only served to replay that stupid smile he flashed at her. He was probably already in love, daydreaming about their shared life ahead. Their three kids, the white picket fence, maybe even a dog.

You flipped open your makeup mirror, dabbing powder on to your nose and forehead while mentally reminding yourself to pull it together and behave like the grown-up you were supposed to be.

No sooner had you left the bathroom had you crashed into something, legs betraying you as you lurched forward, nearly spiraling to the floor. Your hands shot out, closing around the nearest object which felt to be the lapels of a suit. 

Your gaze snapped into sharp focus. Yes, definitely the lapels of a suit, and not just any suit--It was Hotch's.

Fantastic.

You quickly retracted your hands, letting them hang limply by your sides as you took a cautious step backward.

His brows furrowed, lips tipping downward as he absently adjusted his watch. "You okay?"

"Peachy!”

That was too much.

You attempted to sidestep him, but he anticipated the move. His arm reached out with surprising speed, fastening around your wrist to keep you in place.

"Hey." It was funny how a single word in that deep voice of his was enough to make your heart beat a little faster. "You've been avoiding me all day. I don't want to pry, but if there's something I've done to upset you, I'd like to know so we can clear the air."

"What?" you responded too quickly, avoiding his gaze as your hand went to your neck. "Oh, no, no, it's not you, sir. I just... I think I might be catching a cold or something. Just feeling a bit woozy."

You were definitely coming down with something—it was a green, nasty disease that had your judgement in a clouded haze.

He smiled, making your heart go into overdrive. "You're a terrible liar."

"No idea what you mean." Your voice went up an octave too high. "But, um, there's a bunch of witnesses I need to follow up with. There's this one who was... really eager. Maybe she'd respond better to you?"

There was a pause before Hotch spoke, his voice low and certain. "I've seen many reactions from you, but jealousy? Is that what's happening here?"

You blinked rapidly, heat rising to your cheeks. "Jealous? That's... that's ridiculous."

"I'd like to think I know you better than that." He gave you a deadpan look. "You've been avoiding eye contact, you've been unusually quiet, and I didn't necessarily miss that look you gave her."

You swallowed hard, proving him right and looking anywhere but him as you fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve. 

"It's not... it's just, you know... I don't know, the smile you gave her, it seemed a bit unprofessional to me."

Your words tumbled out in a flustered rush, not capable of taking them back as you realized the absurdity of it all.

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Unprofessional? Did it look like I was flirting? Because that would be a first."

"No, I don't think you were flirting, not exactly." You should stop yourself while you're ahead. "But she was, and you didn't exactly shut it down."

Hotch's face was unreadable. "Honestly, I didn't even realize she was flirting with me. Even so, I'm curious—why would that bother you?"

"Well, I mean, I... It doesn't, not really. I just think we should all be focused, that's all," you managed, voice faltering as you tried to be convincing.

"I assure you, my focus is on all the right places," Hotch said, taking a step closer that almost felt invasive. His gaze dropped to your lips momentarily before snapping back up to your eyes.

"O-okay."

The closeness of him was sending your body into overdrive, the room suddenly feeling too small, his presence way too intense.

"And just for the record," Hotch said over his shoulder as he turned to leave. "If I were to flirt, trust me, it would be with someone who already had all my attention."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash

[homunculus-argument]

"Maybe magic, maybe mundane" is one of my favourite tropes, especially when it's featured in something where magic could plausibly exist.

One book idea that I had that is currently only a pile of haphazard notes features a character only known as The Queen's Mute - or simply "the mute" for short - who is exactly what it says on the tin: the queen's personal jester, who does not speak. He is also ambiguously human. An eerie, elfin creature who seems to find it funny when people are puzzled by him.

Besides being completely silent, he has an uncanny skill in copying how people hold themselves and move. Gait, posture, the expressions they make, he could just be standing completely still doing nothing, and it's still obvious whether he's standing like the king or the head cook. If you've seen the subject once, you'll know who he's impersonating. He's quick to spot every opportunity to insult someone by doing so - like spotting a nobleman who isn't faithful to his wife and following after him across the room in the exact same gait that his mistress walks in. The king once remarks that he can't understand how the hell someone who can't speak can have so many rude things to say.

The protagonist was sent to spy on the queen, and the mute is almost always with her - making no sound, not even footsteps, but making himself seen, and seeing and hearing everything. One never hears him come or go, he is just suddenly there, sitting on the floor, waiting to see who's the first person to glance down and get startled out of their mind because people don't just pop out of nowhere like that. Being fond of climbing furniture as well, he might also be sitting on top of a shelf.

Though the protagonist first assumes that he is somewhere close to her own age - somewhere in his late teens - and the narration refers to him as "boy" more often than "man", the queen corrects her. He is just as grown now as he was when she first brought him with her, and though she doesn't know his exact age, she knows he is older than she is herself.

The king - despite of being the mute's favourite subject of vicious mockery - tolerates him for some reason. Despite of being aware that the relationship between the queen and the jester is romantic as well as sexual in nature. Their marriage is as loveless as political arranged marriages get, so he finds it preferable to let the queen keep her mute if his taunting antics and his unsettling way of just appearing into places at least keep other men away.

The queen occasionally mentions things that she wasn't supposed to know - and couldn't have known - just to let the protagonist know that she knows more about what's going on than what she lets on. When the protagonist fails to hide her shock and asks the queen how she knew, the queen explains that the mute told it to her. The protagonist assumes this to be a joke, her way of saying "none of your business", since obviously the mute doesn't talk.

But he does talk. Only to the queen, only when absolutely no other soul is there to hear it. And as a plot twist on the last third of the book, it turns out that besides knowing how to move like other people, the mute is a frighteningly good vocal mimic. He can copy the queen's voice perfectly, which they have often used for her advantage. Looking back to every scene where the queen was heard but not seen - behind a curtain or a dressing screen, talking through a door, or just overheard singing to herself in the garden - there is no telling whether the protagonist was actually talking with the queen, or if she had that whole conversation with the mute. This would explain at least one incident where the queen was supposed to be in one place but somehow shows up somewhere else.

The protagonist never figures out what the mute's whole deal is. She never finds a satisfying answer despite of the queen clearly telling her that he is just as much a human of flesh and blood as either of them. The queen often sounds like she's lying when she's telling the truth, as she is now. The mute is completely, entirely human, just somewhat autistic and trans.

[sukunas-wife]

the Dadkuna series is great!!! Sukuna isn’t my main character that I like in jjk but this series has me SAT and WAITING for the next upload! I’ve always wondered though what momkuna and dadkuna’s relationship dynamic is. We get that sort of in how they met but what about when their relationship is established? I get the sense that obviously dadkuna would quite literally do anything for her but what exactly goes through his mind when he thinks about her?

Oh? Guess whose back 😎🤧

Me- I’m sickly too 🤭 but! The blog is picking up 🥺 and I’ve been working on this for a good time so here you go 🤍🤍🤍

(Indentions are thoughts, things he didn’t actively say out loud 🥺🤍)

Lord Ryomen Sukuna, though emotionally stunted and constipated, loves his wife. Would level cities and kill men easily if she didn’t have such a strong hold in him.

But he’s a misogynist at heart to an extent. He wants you at home with his kids being his cute little wife that he knows he can always come home to. It was your overwhelming passion for helping women who couldn’t bear children that convinced him he could let you live your life, as long as he knew he had people there to look over you when he couldn’t.

He appreciates the fact that when he’s tired, covered in blood that’s not his own, and carrying the exhaustion of his war ridden day, there you are rushing to him when he enters his temple. Disregarding your fine silk robes and the blood partly way on his body. The way you cling to him, always so happy and relieved to see him come home.

The first time he came home after being gone for so long, he remembers how you cried and held on to him, your anguished filled cries when you cried about how you thought he was never coming back, how you were scared he’d left you alone. He remembers how his hands found your waits holding you a bit away, another hand coming to cup your face, thumb wiping away your tears when he looked at you with tired eyes, “It would take the militia of this land's greatest sorcerers to even consider preventing my way back to your embrace.” Your teary eyes softened before you buried your face in his chest again hugging him and clinging to him.

He longed for that feeling of your embrace whenever he would leave you behind, he could deny it but on his way home to you, his heart ached and longed to feel your embrace and hear your praises of how he had returned. You cried no more because you were filled with that confidence he would always return.

——————

He’s a traditional man with his one form of values, not once did he long for sexual pleasure or was he consumed with lust. Misery, pain and the screams of his victims fueled him and filled him with an immense pleasure no woman’s body could ever possibly offer him.

They were all the same, sultry, scandalous, attention seeking harlots, prostitutes and women. Thinking they could better their lives if they could slip into his bed. They were wrong, every woman who he allowed to enter his bed chamber under these pretences had walked in with starry eyes and ambition. Only to cry and scream for their life while he slowly dug his nails into their flesh tearing them all apart, slowly and agonisingly. That was until he saw you that one day, any girl of age would’ve started to present themselves to him in shy or subtle ways hoping to catch his eyes. There you were kneeling out of respect in his presence, scared you had offended your lord.

‘Oh? Is this little morsel afraid?’ Fear filled and humbling yourself before him. You couldn’t look at him, there wasn’t an ounce of “I want to sleep with this man.” And yet these feelings caused a sentiment in the depths of his chest, something stirred inside him, you head captured his interest (non sexual at this point). ‘Hmm?, this will be a fine pet to break.’

You were a phenomenon in the temple, one he wanted to study, to take into his clawed hands and mould, twist, stretch and push to the edge and then just over the point of breaking to see what would become of you. Yet, once he had you in hands reach, once you were close enough for him to graze your skin with his nails… he didn’t treat you like a common daisy or water Lilly, no he took you into his hands like a Lotus floating on the water's surface. Making elegant work and taking care of your delicate bloom. You would be his delicate lotus that no one else would ever take the joy in having.

——————

“My gratifying queen, My delicate lotus, My benevolent wife.” Words he doesn’t speak so freely, he whispers them against your skin whenever you’d sleep by his side.

Delicate words and honeyed names had never once crossed his mind in his existence. Yet here he was, allowing himself to indulge in the smallest amount of vulnerability with these words. The press of his feverish kisses against your neck and cheeks between every word.

‘My little beloved pet, so tired, sleeping away the wares of today. How could something so small and insignificant like you cause this shift in my existence hm?’

The back of his hand brushing hair away from your face, nails grazing the side of your face lightly, he held you in his embrace watching you. Two arms securely around you, one supporting his head, the other kept grazing your skin. You’d stir in your sleep when he shifted slightly away from you to lay on his back. You’d become so used to his body heat even on the hottest days you’d search him out half awake.

‘My little lotus,’ he closed the space between you, pulling you into his side again, ‘rest your weary head without worries of tomorrow, I’m here to hold you now.’

He wouldn’t admit it, he didn’t even know it at that moment, but he was absolutely smitten with you in ways he had yet to comprehend. But it showed in his subconscious movements. A hand on your lower back or waist guiding you, knowing you’re close and safe.

Bringing home little jewels and trinkets he’d usually never spare a second glance . That is until a stone sparkles in the light of his flames and he stops briefly to take a close look.

My queen would look Devine with these adorning her neck. These stones would make fine pieces for my wife.

It was a shock when he came home one night waking you when he sat on the bed. You sat up sleepily while he handed you a bag of precious stones and jewels telling you he had brought you a gift, a free hand of his brushing your hair back and bringing you closer by the back of your head so he could kiss your lips.

——————

It was your wedding, there you were standing beside him in the Ceremonial Robes. You stood on his right, his eyes looking down at you.

Hmm, What an enticing display, to have my little pet dressed up so exquisitely for all to see and admire.

Even more enticing to know soon you’ll be round with my child, what an ethereal sight you will be laid out in silk robes and swollen carrying my legacy

My delicate little lotus, my malevolent queen, my gratifying and honourable wife. Perhaps these thoughts never be spoken aloud with heavy sentiment. But I vow myself to you in this instant, that I will do all to assure our future, our health, our children and our endless lives.

I will assure your hand never be left cold nor alone as long as I can take it. nor will it ever be lifted in vain or to labour. Your stomach is never empty as I will assure you have the finest wine and a feast every night if it’s what your little human heart desires, your head will always have a place to rest even if it is only on my chest. Your nights will never be cold, your days will never be short, your loneliness will exist no longer, and your heart will be mine, and mine will be yours.

It wasn’t all he told himself, but it was in the moment you felt a warm sensation against your skin, on your chest below the centre of your collar bone but above your breast was the same mark you’d seen on his tongue very few times.

Ryomen Sukuna DID NOT enjoy the thought of staining your teeth black, instead he took your hand, as if vowing and brains you, the ring finger of your left hand, the base faded to a black band, above it a snark mark matching your chest and another thin black bank, just below your nail was another black band. That’s how your little husband decided to present you as his.

Tag List: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@bofadeezs

@sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira

Broken :( @simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378 @anyaswlrd @cyder-puff

[noemilivv]

After Reading the Proposal and Wedding One shot I think it's called?

Can I please request the same characters(Adam, Lucifer and Vox) react to there kid having there Powers and how GN Reader and Them deal with it in an everyday bases

oh my god my brain has so many ideas i’m doing this right the freak now

also i’m so sorry this isn’t necessarily gn!reader becuz this does talk about pregnancy 😭

Warnings: AFAB!reader, pregnancy talk, ooc Adam?(?), swear words, potential S1 spoilers, Vox being a bit of a shitty dad

Adam, Lucifer, Vox w/ kids who have their powers (+ extra)

Adam

You and Adam probably wait awhile after your wedding until having kids, he wants to have his party lifestyle a little longer, and cmon, who can blame him?

At first he isn’t so sure, I mean, a small ball of flesh that just cries wasn’t the most entertaining thing to him… But he’ll do it for you

But the moment you tell him your pregnant, something in him clicks.

He’s very invested in the kids before their even born, he’s reading all those cheesy and old baby books constantly, cause honestly, he’s not as prepared as he’d thought he’d be

Simply because I see Adam as both a boy dad and a girl dad let’s say you two have twins 😛

He’s a good dad not gonna lie, but let’s be real, he tried to make at least one of his kids say “feces” as their first word… yeah, you weren’t too happy. 😀

Growing up, he definitely spoiled his girl and roughhoused with his boy, maybe a bit too much…

He was definitely a baseball or softball dad

Considering Adam’s foul language, they definitely grew up at swearing at a young age, but it stayed in the house dw

As the kids grew into their early teens they discovered their shared their dads powers — and bitch was through the roof about it

Adam started training them on how to use their powers to their liking, but also taught them the safety of them. He was actually a pretty good teacher ngl.

Lucifer

Obviously, from his past marriage with Lilith, he already had his first kid, so he was ready — he was just waiting for you to be as well

So when you were, he was stoked !

He was very aware and attentive during your pregnancy, trying to not make the same mistakes he did the first time around

He’s also very understanding about mood swings and he WILL go out in the middle of the night to get you cravings, he doesn’t have to, but he will

But when you both bring another daughter Morningstar into the world, Charlie is thrilled to have a younger sister!

She definitely babysits a lot, and the child definitely spends a lot of time in the hotel

Luci dedicates certain times of the day when he can not and will not have meetings or projects to be working on so he can dedicate time to both of his daughters.

He loves asking your daughter how her day was, and how schools going, but he also asks how her friends are to stress that grades aren’t the only thing that matter

As your daughter grows, she starts to develop Lucifer’s powers, only a small fraction — considering how powerful he is, but he’s stoked that not one, but now both of his daughters have his powers!

He’s been through training them before with Charlie, so he’s pretty skilled on how to do it now, but he tends to stress to your daughter the usage of the powers and the rights and wrongs are far more important than the strength you have

Vox

Vox was in no rush to have kids due to the current workload for VoxTech, but if you wanted them, all you had to do was ask

Vox, like Adam, couldn’t really wrap his head (or screen ig??) around the concept of a child until they were in his arms.

Vox wasn’t really sure how to handle a newborn, older kids were different, but this..? Maybe this wasn’t right for him…

It broke his heart every time he heard his son sob as a new born, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure what to do.

It’d be late at night and Vox would get out of your shared bed to go make sure the baby would stop crying before you’d wake.

He’d try everything, singing, rocking, bottle, changing the diaper, toys, everything. And it wouldn’t stop.

It’s not until you stir in your sleep and hear everything, you go to your son’s crib and simply hold him and he stops crying immediately, you set your son down and go back to sleep. Vox is literally amazed.

As your son ages into the ages of 6 and up is when it starts to get easier for Vox, by the time Vox can even slightly have a conversation with the kid it gets easier, the communication is a lot more clear

He doesn’t have a lot of time to play with his son due to VoxTech, so usually Vox will keep his son in his lap as he works in his office, he’ll even ask his son business questions! Even when he only gets gibberish back, he’ll take it. Hey, don’t judge him, client feedback is important.

As his son ages into his teen years, Vox starts turning a bit strict, he needs his son to be the coolest fucking kid in school, so Velvette tailors him a shit ton of clothes and Vox makes sure his son always has the newest gadget. Vox also is strict about keeping grades up, he wouldn’t ever take anything away for a bad grade, but your son may get a bit of lecture..

All of this is building up to something though, Vox really wants your son to take over VoxTech in his adult years, so he wants to make sure his son is prepared and experienced in the new world he’d enter, if he doesn’t want, Vox gets it, he may be a bit pushy though, but Vox has been in that place so he won’t push too hard.

At around the age of 15, your son developed Vox’s hypnosis powers.

Vox teaches your son how to use this to his advantage, like for example, VoxTech, but he also stressed there’s a time and place, and to not use it on someone you truly care about. Strategy is everything.

Is Vox the perfect parent? No. But no one is. But he genuinely has so much love for his son, and tbh he wants more kids…

[feukt-42]

Elden ring + Shadow of the Erdtree lore thoughts

Alright, so, first off, obviously, spoilers ahead.

I've been thoroughly enjoying and getting my ass kicked by SotE and what ive seen of the lore so i wanted to ramble about it.

I specifically wanted to talk about how Elden Ring explores power and godhood.

In the base game, godhood isnt seen as inherently bad. Marika's golden order is fucked up six ways to sunday, but the blame mainly rests on Marika's shoulders it seems. She's a genocidal homewrecking war-mongerer who threw two of her children in the sewers bc of racism, she's not a good god, but it doesnt portray the problem as her being a god, just her being a mess. The game provides several "solutions" to unfuck everything :

Ranni's ending has you completely throw the system in the trash. She says, fuck it, godhood's the problem, im out of here. She is kinda right, but the lands remain fractured and the power vacuum left behind is going to be immense. We're on the right track but could be better.

The frenzied flame ending is just pure concentrated nihilism so i think we can move past it for this one.

The bunch of other endings are fairly similar : you beat Marika/Radagon's ass and you impose yourself as Elden Lord to keep her in check and fix the issues you see as most important. This doesnt fix anything long-term, the god in power is still the exact same fucking mess but with a chaperone now i guess.

None of these endings are very satisfying, they all leave you with a sense of "it could be worse i guess" (except the frenzied flame one but you get the point). This is where Miquella comes in :

Everything we hear about Miquella sounds great. He's kind, compassionate, against racism, doesnt like violence, etc etc. Cherry on top, he's even one of the characters with a direct shot at godhood, brilliant ! Why cant we just put him in charge, he'll do much better than the absolute wreck we have right now.

And thats where the base game leaves us, Marika is a fucked up mess of a person, and the obvious solution is to put the much better Miquella in her place.

Shadow of the erdtree, on the other hands, aims to set the record straight. The problem wasnt just Marika, the problem is inherent to godhood in and of itself.

In SotE, we see the land of shadow, the realm where Marika came from and ascended to godhood, and the realm where Miquella intends to do the same. And the more we hear about who Marika was before in snippets of lore, and the more we watch Miquella tread the road to godhood, we realise something :

There is no such thing as a good god

It doesnt matter how kind and compassionate you were, what your morals were, who you loved, who you loathed, none of it matters because you cannot grasp the power to become a god without sacrificing who you were before.

In the dlc we see Miquella shed more and more of himself, his flesh, his arms, his eye, his heart, his doubts, his fears and even his love. Miquella has shorn so much of who he was that he formed an entire new person (St Trina) from it. Some of him remains, he still wishes for a kinder world, but he cant sacrifice anymore of himself for it. Now he has to start sacrificing others.

Miquella was always blessed with the ability to charm others, and he sees it as the least painful path to make others do as he wishes. And so he charms his sister, he charms Mohg, he charms Radahn, his followers, Leda, Moore, Thiollier, Freyja, the hornsent, Ansbach, and everyone he can convince to give themselves up for his dream of a kinder world, regardless of the pain they might cause or feel by being enthralled by him.

And oh boy do they feel pain. Mohg is used and discarded like a ragdoll, and his followers and dynasty slowly crumble to nothing as the last pureblood knight watches helplessly, himself entranced by the one responsible after he failed to kill him. Radahn's soul is shoved in a corpse so that he can play consort to a god that is his antithesis, depriving him of his glory and honour as lord of the battlefield. Malenia is left alone to rot after Miquella has no use or help for her, and she endlessly waits for her brother to return. Every one of Miquella's followers has to grapple with those feelings of betrayal, manipulation, and lost memories returning all at once. It is by no means painless.

And so we end up with a god that is not much better than Marika was. On his path to godhood, Miquella has caused as much pain to those along the way as his mother once did, in this very same land that still feels the scars of Marika's ascension.

The only way to gain power is to take it from everyone else, and that cannot be achieved without pain.

[iwritefandomimagines]

I COULD KISS YOU — GREG HOUSE

masterlist

pairing: greg house x reader

description: when an offhand comment to praise house for helping you diagnose a patient leads to the silent treatment, you’re both forced to confront the feelings that had been lingering unspoken for too long.

warnings: swearing, angst to a teeny bit of fluff, may be a lil ooc as i’m still iffy on fleshing out how i write the house characters but i’m trying <3

author’s note: had this idea and got excited so bashed it out quite quickly while i was motivated af — hopefully you enjoy !!! let me know what you think

“Gregory House, you bloody genius,” you exclaimed, clenching your fists in excitement, unable to stop the words that came flying out next, “I could kiss you!”

You’d been trying to diagnose your patient for nigh on a week now, and with the young boy’s symptoms rapidly progressing and his condition rapidly worsening, House’s diagnostic expertise provided exactly the breakthrough you needed.

You were ecstatic — mentally piecing together just how he had to be correct — and so without another word you practically skipped out of his office to run some tests and reach the certainty needed to treat the boy as soon as possible.

What House had suggested made perfect sense, accounting for every symptom and every adverse reaction to the treatments you had tried so far, and though you usually mocked his tendency to always smugly assume he was right, at present you were immeasurably grateful for his input.

You were disappointed, then, when you rushed to tell him that the young boy was responding incredibly well to the treatment he suggested and he simply gave you his smug “I-told-you-so” smile and rushed away from you.

He didn’t speak to you again for the rest of the day, choosing instead to actually take time to visit his patients rather than deal with encountering you again.

“What did I do to piss House off?” you asked Cameron, Foreman and Chase shyly as you stood near the nurse’s station with them.

They all just eyed you like the answer was obvious, but Chase shrugged, “When has anyone ever needed to actually do something to piss him off?”

“No, he won’t even talk to me right now,” you frowned, brows furrowed, “It’s weird. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong since this morning.”

The group all looked between eachother, as though deciding who would be the one to have to tell you the honest truth.

“Probably something to do with your little ‘I could kiss you’,” Chase replied, doing a terrible impersonation of you and batting his eyelids flirtatiously as he quoted you, “He didn’t seem to like that very much.”

Your mouth was parted in confusion, “Firstly, I do not sound like that. But secondly, why would he give me the silent treatment for that? Is the idea of kissing me that repulsive?”

Cameron scoffed, rolling her eyes, “You’re both as oblivious as each other, Y/N… He’s ignoring you for literally the opposite reason.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

Was she seriously trying to tell you that House was ignoring you because he didn’t like you joking about kissing him?

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“It’s literally painfully obvious, Y/N,” Foreman groaned, “You’ve had this weird sexual tension going on forever and given that he’s usually bad at giving a damn about people, he gets weird about you. And he obviously has feelings for you, so it rubbed him up the wrong way.”

Chase chuckled, “They’re right. He’s only mad at you because you’re the only person he’s never mad at but you hurt the feelings he apparently has.”

You pondered what he was saying for a moment, trying to piece together whether there was any semblance of truth behind their explanation for House’s weird behaviour.

Truth be told, it was the exact kind of petty and ill-fitting behaviour you’d expect from House.

For such a brilliant man, he could be utterly childish at times, especially if he wasn’t getting his way.

Your relationship had always teetered on the edge of professionalism — he was always making flirtatious comments, he always took your suggestions on board more than the others, always sung your praises to your peers and superiors.

Whilst everyone else was certain it was proof of his feelings for you, you had just thought he appreciated that you never pried into his life unless he offered to divulge information himself, and you were excellent at your job.

Of course, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed your ambiguous relationship, given the crush you had harboured since very early on in your acquaintance. That’s why you always flirted back, always made sure your input was carefully though out, and why you were always singing his praises too.

But it was Greg House — a man who so famously behaved as though he didn’t care about anyone. So of course you didn’t think that things would ever progress past your unprofessional professional relationship.

“Where is he?”

“In his office,” Cameron smiled, “He told me to make sure nobody bothered him, and I think he meant you because he’s still throwing his toys out of the pram.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, “God, he’s ridiculous. I’m going to go and talk to him. Or try, anyway. Wish me luck.”

“Is this House we’re talking about?” Dr. James Wilson made an appearance at your side now, his brow quirked in curiosity as he butted into the conversation.

You nodded, “He’s being a baby instead of actually talking to me about why he’s mad.”

You hoped he’d have some kind of more concrete explanation, given that he was the only person House was even remotely honest around.

“He’s hardly an expert at talking about his feelings, is he? Or having them, actually,” Wilson chuckled, “But he’s been grumbling all day. Please do go and speak to him. For my sanity’s sake, if not your relationship’s.”

“Slow down, Wilson,” you scoffed, but though you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, you couldn’t deny the fluttering in your stomach at any sort of reference to you and House’s potential relationship, “I’m going!”

You entered the room without even knocking, folding your arms over your chest with a stern expression on your features as you strode towards his desk and stood firmly in front of him.

“I’m busy.”

“Busy being petty and ignoring me?”

He looked up now, narrowing his eyes as he realised you were not going to meekly scuttle away like you had done every other time he’d dismissed you today.

“What makes you think that?” sarcasm dripped from his words, “I just so enjoy spending time getting to know my patients and doing paperwork!”

You huffed out a sigh, frustrated by him already trying to dodge the subject, “Greg.”

“Y/N.”

“Greg!”

“Y/N!” he matched your tone just to challenge you, and you scoffed, “Are you really going to be like this?”

“Like what?”

“So deliberately evasive?”

His lips drew together in a thin line as he eyed you carefully, “How’s your little boy from this morning?”

“You are so fucking frustrating, Greg,” you scowled, “Can we have an adult conversation here?”

He appeared to ponder over another joke to make, but apparently for the first time in his life thought better, as he remained silent and waited for you to continue.

“I’ve been so stressed out about that kid, and you helped me to help him massively — he’s likely to be discharged by tomorrow. I was so happy, so relieved, and I said I could kiss you,” you began, avoiding his gaze at first until your final sentence, “And it was a silly offhanded comment about how grateful I was, but at the same time I honestly could’ve kissed you because I quite honestly want to a lot of the time.”

Oh my God — you’d stunned the Greg House into silence?

Your breathing was jagged, “I don’t know if you’re just being an ass because you don’t like being on the other end of jokes, or if the team actually aren’t just blind hopeless romantics and you actually care about me. But I just wish you’d talk to me instead of doing all this and making me feel like you don’t care at all.”

He pulled himself up onto his feet, grabbing his cane to lean on as he inched closer to you.

“It’s a bit of both,” his voice was low, and you were sure that if you didn’t know him better you might believe him to be shy about telling you the truth, “I’m not good at caring, and I don’t usually like caring, but I guess I do. Sue me!”

You took another step forward, so that you were so close you were breathing right in each other’s faces.

You were trying to be brave and command the conversation, but your stomach was doing backflips as it dawned on you that what he meant was that he really did feel the same about you.

“Why would you go silent on me then instead of talking to me about it?” you bit your lip as you spoke, and caught notice of how his eyes trailed to your lips as you did so.

He swallowed thickly, “Didn’t feel right to. Hardly professional, is it?”

“Oh, because you’re the picture of professionalism usually aren’t you?” you laughed dryly.

“Point taken,” he shrugged, “Maybe I was little scared. And we’ve got a good thing going, it’s a risk pushing things any further.”

You weren’t happy with that, not when this was Greg House — king of taking risks and breaking rules — and you were certain that it was a risk worth taking anyway.

“When has risk ever stopped you?” you asked, whispering now as your eyes darted between his and his lips whilst he mirrored your behaviour.

“Point also taken,” he mumbled, before finally taking the plunge and bringing his lips to yours in a heated kiss that you leaned into immediately.

He quickly leaned back to sit on the edge of his desk, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you to stand between his parted legs.

You pulled back, suddenly aware that anyone could come in at this moment and see you — and whilst the biggest risk here really was endless teasing from the team or a scolding from Cuddy, you did still have some things to discuss too.

You didn’t want to ruin the moment, overcome with giddiness at what had just happened, but you wanted to make your feelings clear; Even if it was to a man who would probably make a jokey remark and underplay his own feelings.

“I don’t know your relationship history, and I don’t care to,” you shrugged, moving your hands to your hips but hardly moving away from him, “Well, I’m not rushing to. I can assume it’s not great, but I just want to take every day as it comes and see where things go because mine isn’t great either. I’m not gonna hurt you, Greg.”

The sincerity in his eyes as he gazed up at you made your heart melt, and you could tell that somehow, some way, you had gotten through to him.

“Don’t make promises you can’t be certain that you’ll keep, Y/N,” he mumbled, before shaking off his own words and standing back up to stare into your eyes intently, “But fine. Because it’s you, I’m willing to try. Provided there’s more of this,” he kissed you again before continuing, “And less of them ogling and concocting their little romantic stories about the lovely doctor Y/N and her damaged old fool.”

You turned around to see the entire team peering through the window, all smiles and whispered chatter at the sight before them.

You raised your middle finger to them, turning back to look at House and stepping back a little from him.

“Unfortunately, those nosey fuckers are not going anywhere,” you rolled your eyes, “If you’re willing to try then we’re going for dinner. Tonight. And we’re going to have a good time, and not talk about this place or about anything you don’t want to.”

He nodded, “I’ll pretend I’m not furious you’ve robbed me of making the grand romantic gesture of being the one to ask,” he cocked his head as he joked, truthfully very much pleased you were the one to ask and confirm that your interest in him was genuine, “But sounds good to me. I’ll wear my nicest tux, eh.”

“Yeah, yeah, ha ha,” you hummed, “Now I’ve got a living patient to go and visit thanks to you. Enjoy your afternoon with that lot,” you gestured to your friends, who were all still stood there watching you, “Good luck. Oh, and pick somewhere to book for us to eat. That can be your grand romantic gesture, hm.”

“Gee, thanks,” he laughed, shaking his head, “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” you grinned, swanning out of his office with the biggest smile possible painting your features.

You nudged past your friends as they watched you walk down the corridor, happier than they had probably ever seen you in the time that you’d known them.

They immediately filed into House’s office when you were out of sight, and his head fell back in irritation for a moment despite the smile still gracing his lips.

“Things went well, then?”

“Go away,” he replied, “I’m in a good mood for once, and you idiots aren’t going to ruin that, alright?”

“Woah, okay,” Foreman laughed, “Who are you and what has Y/N done with Greg House?”

———

thanks for reading !!! i hope enjoyed and this wasn’t too ooc lol. let me know what you though pleaaase & if you’d like — feel free to request!

in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  SWORDS, DRAGONS, AND DIET COKE

SUMMARY : Halloween dressed as the Scooby gang… her dressed as Daphne… things can only go right from there.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : castiel, charlie bradbury, joan carlisle (ofc)

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), oral sex, unprotected sex (barf), fingering, p in v, pussy spanking, violence, anger issues, implied trauma 👍🏻, ghost possession

WORD COUNT : 4.7k

A/N : the devil wears prada song title. also, how come women look hot when they cosplay male characters, but men don’t look hot when they cosplay female characters??? EXPLAIN! SOMEONE, PLEASE!!! Or change my mind ;) XXXXXX

“So we all agree that we look ridiculous?” Y/n asked with a smile as they stepped into the loud and crowded frat house. 

“Cas and I, do,” Dean leaned down to say close to her ear. “You, Charlie, and Joan, don’t.” He circled his arm around her waist, fingers trailing across her jawline to turn her face towards his. He gave her a sweet kiss and moved her dyed hair over her shoulder. 

She returned the kiss with a smile, turning her body to face him fully as he slid his hand down from the back of her shoulder to her ass. She wrapped her arms around his neck, opening her mouth to slip her tongue into his mouth. He squeezed the supple flesh of her ass and she moaned, threading her fingers through his soft hair. 

“Alright, Fred and Daphne, we get it: you’re in love,” Joan giggled, taking Y/n’s waist to pull her away from Dean. 

“That’s fine,” Dean shrugged playfully, letting his girlfriend go while he tugged at the ascot around his neck, “we’ve got a mystery to solve.” Charlie snorted and gave Dean a hard smack across his back that only made him pout.

“Well, technically, yes,” Joan laughed. “Listen, I don’t know if the ghost will come out tonight or not. But I’m glad you guys are here,” she smiled at the group and squeezed Y/n’s waist before letting her go. “Obviously, there’s been sightings in the basement, boring, but sometimes it’s appeared on the second floor, or the attic,” Joan explained, fixing her glasses on her nose. 

“Woah, Miss Carlisle,” two guys passed by wolf-whistled and looked at Joan disrespectfully, eyes trailing over long orange socks against dark skin, a tiny pleated skirt, and a tight ribbed turtleneck—also in a shade of orange. They only glanced at her face to smirk smugly as if her deadpan expression meant they won. 

“Douchebags,” Dean grunted, glaring at the arrogant boys. 

“So, how should we split up?” Charlie grinned, trying to remove their focus from the immature men. They all looked back at her, became relaxed, then looked towards Dean and Y/n. 

“Well, I could check out the second floor and Dean can check the attic,” she suggested, to which Dean chewed his lip and nodded in agreement. 

“Naturally, Shaggy and Scoob stick together, so, uh, Charlie and Cas, you two take the basement,” Dean smiled boyishly at the two, and Cas rolled his eyes, sighing. Charlie laughed and punched Cas’ shoulder gently, causing Cas to smile slightly.

“Right, I’ll stay here, then,” Joan smiled, then gave her old friend, Y/n a slap on the ass. Y/n giggled, and rubbed the spot, hardly feeling a sting. 

“We’ll meet here again after?” Cas asked, they all nodded in agreement, then both Charlie and Cas started making their way through the house to get downstairs. Cas tugged at the neck of the costume with a deep frown.

Dean reached out for Y/n’s elbow and slid his fingers down her arm to hold her hand. Joan stopped her, giving her a half-hug before Dean could drag her away to do their job. “Hey, let’s catch up later, you look so happy now, and also, your boyfriend’s hot,” Joan laughed softly, giving her friend a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“Sure, Jay, maybe once the case is done we can all hang out,” she smiled, hugging her friend back. “It’s sort of our thing to go to the local bars. That sound good?” Joan nodded, squealing excitedly, and stepped away. 

Dean smiled at Joan then tugged Y/n towards him—her quiet laughter making him warm. She smiled up at him and let him place his arm over her shoulders to kiss the top of her head. Y/n circled his waist with her arm and clenched the side of his white long-sleeved shirt as they walked upstairs. 

Students drank along the stairs, talking, and laughing with their friends. Properly having fun. There were two friends dressed as Arthur and Merlin, which was cute, and Dean started with interest at the sword sheathed into the leather belt around his hips. 

“I’m kinda hungry, is that weird?” Dean pouted, releasing her so she could walk up the stairs without complications. Their fingertips still touched, their forefingers hooked together, and back he went to holding her once they got to the top of the stairs. 

“Not really, it’s cute,” she smiled, then shivered, either a ghost or the wintry breeze that chilled houses. “Maybe we can find food or snacks here,” she suggested, pulling him close to absorb his heat before he left her to check out the attic.

“You should’ve brought a jacket,” he scolded gently, then playfully squeezed her breast. “I’ll try to keep you warm while you walk me to the attic,” he told her playfully. She smiled and rolled her eyes, then pushed him into the nearest wall. Dean smirked at her, and dropped his hand from her chest, but she grabbed both his wrists to place his hands over both breasts. 

“A jacket will ruin my costume, I look great,” she argued jokingly, pressing herself against him. Dean lowered his hands a little, enough to cup the bottom over her breasts while he brushed his thumbs over her pebbled nipples. No bra beneath the soft, violet dress she wore. 

“Yeah, you… look super hot as Daphne,” Dean breathed out, licking his bottom lip before biting it. “Fuck…” he muttered, his head thumping against the wall when he tipped it back, dropping his hands from her breast to hold her hips. 

“Let’s get this case over with,” she smiled, pushing against his chest to step away. He whined, digging his fingers hard into her hips to bring her back in, and dropped a kiss to her glossed, pink lips—staining his own. 

“Okay, I’ll, uh, leave now,” Dean smiled, and licked his mouth to taste her gloss. She laughed softly and shook her head, fixing the ascot around his neck by placing it back beneath the sky blue polo shirt. “Yummy lip stuff, by the way,” he teased, reaching down to tug her dress down as it crinkled slightly at her hips. 

“Lip stuff,” she repeated with a cute cackle, appreciative of the way he distractedly fixed her dress. “I love you—a lot,” she sighed happily, patting his now-flushed cheeks. 

“Me, uh,” Dean stuttered, “I love you, too. A lot,” he added, watching her smirk and slowly walk away from him. She waved at him and turned around to start knocking on doors.

“If you’re an FBI agent, how come you’re dressed like Daphne?” She pushed past the irritating guy dressed as Tarzan, ignoring him as she looked around the room that he shared with a friend. “And how come you’re not arresting us? We’re doing drugs and drinking, not all of us are twenty-one,” he told her. 

She could feel him behind her, and she rolled her eyes, squatting down carefully to not reveal anything as she searched for anything suspicious, pulling out the EMF detector from her small purse. 

“You’ve never heard of undercover then?” She asked sarcastically, getting up to search the rest of his room. According to him, it suddenly gets colder than usual, he hears weird sounds, he’s heard voices—the typical signs of a haunting. “And the focus on the case isn’t underage drinking or drug usage, it’s… there’s a killer,” she hesitated to share information, but he’s attached himself to her—well, much like this irritating ghost has attached itself to this frat house. 

“Wow, that’s dope,” he burped drunkenly, which irritated her more. 

“I don’t know if I'd call my friends dying dope, but, whatever,” she muttered, hiding the EMF detector as she turned towards the closet. 

“You’re hot, smart, and badass, like actual Daphne. T-that’s why you’re dressed like her, right?” He asked, hiccuping before taking another—large—gulp of alcohol, straight from the bottle. 

“You shouldn’t drink too much, it’s going to be awful in the morning,” she warned, avoiding his question as she went into the bathroom. She heard him follow, and sighed, putting the EMF detector away into her purse once more. 

“Aw, so you do care about me,” he smiled lopsidedly, cheeks flushed with drunkenness. She smiled sarcastically, then glared at him. “I kinda like older women, ya know?” She blinked at him in bewilderment, watching him stumble towards her, but she backed up rather than helped out. “That’s why I let you in an-and said yes to… everything you asked me,” he grinned, setting the alcohol down on the counter, but it slipped and shattered on the floor. “Whoops.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and scoffed, her jaw clenching angrily. She stomped out while he became distracted by the loss of his spirits. 

“Woah, hey,” he jogged towards her, taking her arm. She pulled away from him, anger burning bright in her chest. “We haven’t even-” 

“Get lost, kid, I’m not interested,” she interrupted him. 

“I’m not a kid, I’m turning twenty one this semester,” he told her smugly, reaching out to brush her hair much like Dean had earlier, except this time she didn’t like it. Immaturely, she pushed it forward again, and rolled her eyes. “Come on, Tarzan needs Jane,” he tried flirtatiously, but she turned around, and swung the door open, ready to leave. 

“Well, good thing I’m Daphne and I’ve already got Fred,” she spat, leaving him in the room alone, “I’m gonna get to work now, kid.” 

“All the pretty girls lie about having boyfriends,” he slurred, leaning against the doorway. She grimaced at his words, she didn’t think he could make her cringe more than she already was. Maybe someone could make her vomit without being physically nauseating? That would be impressive. 

“Maybe take a hint and leave women alone,” she told him, but fished for her phone in her purse to call Dean. Still, Tarzan rolled his eyes at her, and boredly watched her put her phone to her ear. It rang halfway when Dean answered with a gruff, ‘sweetheart’ that made her insides warm and delighted. “Hi, babe, I’m upstairs and Tarzan here doesn’t know what ‘no’ means. Please, come save him, I love you.” 

She didn’t hang up when she heard wood break, and Dean swore, “son of a bitch.” She was about to ask if he was okay, when Tarzan grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him, her palms landing on his sweaty, flushed, somewhat hairy chest. 

“Gross, let me-”

“Uh, what?” Dean asked, then she heard his boots, and more thumping as she struggled to get out of Tarzan’s rough hold. “Babe, okay, I’ll be there, love you,” he said quickly, but he also didn’t hang up. She knew he probably had his phone pressed to his ear by his shoulder.

“Save me?” Tarzan laughed, spinning her so she’d enter his room once more. She got angrier the more he manhandled her. 

“Yeah, you gonna back off? My boyfriend’s on his way, and you’re drunk, don’t do something stupid,” she tried to deescalate without violence. 

“You were looking at me and you smiled,” he reasoned, lamley. She looked up at him in disbelief, his irritating icy ice and dirty blonde hair, pimples placed here and there. 

“I.. What? That means you have a free pass into my pants now, regardless of what I say? Wow, I forgot guys like you were real. At least I won’t regret this,” she snarled, slamming his nose with her forehead. 

Finally, he loosened his grip on her, and she stumbled back, rubbing her forehead. It definitely hurt him more than it hurt her. He shouted a loud ‘fuck’ and held his nose as it bled, warm, thick red dripping between his fingers. 

When he started toward her, her eyes widened, and she grimaced at the thought of his blood getting anywhere near her. “No,” she warned him, as if he were a child. 

She quickly moved around him and kicked him, white ankle boots striking his lower back, causing him to trip forward through the door. She heard gasps, but she stepped closer to him, her heart beating fast, but her mind, bread, and movements remained serene. He turned over into his back, looked around at all the people dressed up and watching, too drunk to even think properly. 

Finally, there was that cold chill. She became distracted by the visible puff of white air passing from between her lips, but when he tried to kick her, she jumped back before he could succeed, chuckling darkly. When he gave up, she got down anyway, and straddled his lap punching him once, or twice, or more than that. 

She stopped only when she felt warm fingers around her wrist after who knows how long. A mouthwatering, unsavoury saltiness in her mouth made her splutter. She unclenched her fist, whining at the pain she felt when she stretched her fingers out. 

She looked up and saw Dean’s worried face. He simpered when he saw her, wiped her mouth carefully of salt as she blinked up at him. He helped her up, when she tried to do it alone, and she finally looked around, confused. Joan was helping Tarzan up, Cas and Charlie were telling people to get out of the second floor. 

“Hey, how ya feelin’, baby?” Dean asked, pulling her attention away from the people dressed up in silly clothes. He held her face gently, wiping remnants of salt from her mouth that she now began to taste strongly. She pulled away from him and ran to the bathroom to spit out the tiny, unpleasant grains, her face pulled up in distaste. 

She rinsed it out of her mouth with water from the sink and saw the blood flowing from her hand. Dean appeared once more, took her hand out from the running water, and guided her back into the room, to sit her down on the nearest desk. 

“Tell me you’re okay,” he whispered, brushing his thumb gently over her forehead. 

“I’m fine, just… confused,” she reassured him with a weak smile, taking his hand away to kiss his knuckles with wet lips. “Also that much salt is gross, we should stop shoving salt up people’s mouths,” she added with a laugh. He chuckled, too, and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. 

“I’m gonna find some stuff to clean your hand, uh, I’ll be quick,” he told her, waiting until she nodded. Still, he was worried, so he hesitated to remove himself from her presence. “Want me to stay? I can call Cas up-” 

“It’s fine, I like it when you take care of me,” she smiled at him, and mimicked the tip-of-the-nose kiss he gave to her. Dean hummed in amusement and nodded, whispering a little ‘ok’ before heading into the bathroom to search for the first-aid kit. 

She held her head with her slightly-more-okay hand, realising just how painful that headbutt actually was now that the adrenaline died down. And her hands, they hurt so bad. They were covered in what was now dried blood and she frowned, Cas was gonna have to heal that later. When she was finally relaxed and able to breathe. 

She talked herself down in her mind. Whatever she did was not her fault. She was obviously possessed and while she was furious because of his behaviour, she would have left as soon as he was on the floor. Sure, the intention was there, but who knows what state she left Tarzan in. As horrible and irritating as he was, she wasn’t like him. How stupid of her to feel bad. 

“Babe,” Dean called softly and she averted her abstracted gaze back to him. “Hey, take this,” he offered, a pill and a water bottle in his hand. She didn’t even notice him. 

“Thanks,” she murmured, but he pushed the pill into her mouth goodnaturedly, which made her chuckle. She took the bottle when he handed it to her, and watched him lovingly take her other hand to inspect it, before focusing on her face once more. 

She downed half the bottle and panted, pleased with the cool liquid travelling down her insides. He lifted his other hand up to her face and gently pressed a finger against her forehead. 

“Headbutt?” Dean asked with a smile, she nodded, and watched him take an alcohol wipe out from its square package. He gently cleaned her slightly-bruised forehead, and despite knowing it was making it unsanitary again, he blew air against her forehead to get it dry faster. Her eyes shut instantly, and she laughed, then felt his lips push against the same spot. 

“Mm, feels a lot better now,” she hummed, leaning against his lingering mouth.

“Yeah, I bet,” he mumbled against her forehead with a grin. Dean pulled away and gave her a soft kiss on the lips before tending to her hands quietly. 

He gave her time to process, he didn’t push for answers with a dozen questions, he didn’t bring up the case. Instead, he made her laugh, and he kissed her sweetly, and he caressed her tenderly. Even after he was finished, he threw everything out, made sure she knew he was there, that she was safe. 

He sat with her and held her. 

“Well, I think I know what brings the ghost out,” she started, playing with his sleeves. 

“Yeah? Well, there was nothing in the attic,” he added. Dean watched her closely, she could feel his gaze, the worried shapes he drew on her thigh. It made her shiver. His proximity, the sudden downturn of emotions, his loving nature, all of it was overwhelming. In a good way. “I love you,” he said suddenly, it made her smile. 

“I love you, too,” she responded, looking up at him lovingly. 

What started out as an innocent, emotional kiss, turned into a possessive, heated make out session that left her seamless panties drenched with arousal. 

Dean was everywhere. 

So hot. So loving. 

His large hands kneaded and squeezed, pulled and scratched, pink lips kissing hard and wet at her skin, sharp teeth nipping and marking, tongue licking and rubbing against suction marks. 

“I never knew that I could want someone so badly,” he whispered, lowering her from the desk to shove her violet dress up her waist. She moaned softly, throwing her head back as he sucked and bit at her throat, his fingers slipping inside her panties, moving forward behind the silky barrier to gather her slick. “So wet, good girl,” he murmured, pressing his fingertips into her clenching, wet entrance. He moved his fingers up to her clit and drew circles around it at just the perfect pace, successfully clouding her mind. 

Dean pulled away from the column of her throat, eying the reddish mark on her pulse, and watched her writhe as he massaged her clit relentlessly. She felt his teeth at her chin and she groaned, spreading her legs wider, desperate to feel him all over her body. She felt the quick buildup of her orgasm. Dean wasn’t teasing, he was determined, occasionally switching the figures on her clit, each time it made her tremble, until she tensed up. 

It was then that he pulled away, the material of her underwear slapping electrifyingly against her skin. “Please,” she begged, opening her eyes lazily. Dean smirked and bit his lip, taking her underwear from beneath, he stretched it upwards, moved it up and down, so the silky material rubbed against her clit.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He asked with a chuckle, watching her mouth fall open and her body turn to mush once more. It must have been enough for him—as an answer—because he released her underwear, started to push them down her legs, and settled on his knees in front of her. He lifted her legs, one after the other, to take her underwear off completely. Dean lifted the periwinkle panties up to his mouth and licked her arousal from the crotch with a smug, “yummy.” 

“Stop, we’re wasting time,” she laughed breathlessly, brushing her fingers through his hair. Instead of getting up, Dean took her thigh and lifted it, moving his face forward to tease her clit with the tip of his tongue. “Oh, fuck,” she gasped, her nails scratching the top of the smooth, wooden desk. She slowly sat up on it and watched Dean shuffle closer on his knees to taste her again. 

“You taste so good,” he whispered, sliding his hands up her thighs. She leaned back slightly, watching his mouth inch closer, his warm breath making her shiver, and become aware of how embarrassingly drenched she was. He held her hips and slid the tip of his tongue from her entrance, through her labia, and began circling around her clit a few times. 

She squirmed and moaned, watching him start to suck her clit—hot, muffled sounds of appreciation vibrating through her vulva from his mouth. Slowly, one of his hands travelled from her hip to her abdomen, sliding down with the intent to make her impatient, and then, he pulled away, replacing her clit in his mouth with two of his fingers. He sucked slowly, and pulled them out, coated in his warm saliva to push them into her waiting vagina. 

Dean returned his mouth to her clit, focusing on her pleasure, doing everything the way he’d memorised she loved most. He angled his fingers upwards inside her, pushing deeper and deeper, brushing against the front of her walls. She clenched around him, squirmed needily, and impatiently rolled her hips against his mouth as he massaged deep inside her. 

She moaned his name and tugged at his hair, her body slowly turning stiff and ready for her climax. He pulled away again. His lips made a wet, salacious sound when they parted from her cunt, and he slowly pulled his fingers out of her pussy. She breathed hard, watching him suck his soppy fingers clean of her slick with a moan. He used his other hand to busy himself with his belt as he stood before her once more. 

She took his wrist to pull his fingers from his mouth with a loud slurp and placed them into hers. She sucked softly on them and stared at the slack-jawed expression while moving her hand beneath his shirts and into his unzipped pants. Dean removed his fingers from inside her warm mouth and held her cheek, moaning against her lips when she teasingly rubbed her soft hand over his cock. 

“I need you inside me,” she whispered, wrapping her fingers around his thick cock, warm and hard in her hand. Dean moaned softly and nodded mindlessly, capturing her lips for a quick kiss. 

“Where inside you?” He purred, teasingly brushing his nose against hers, his warm breath tickling her lips. She laughed softly instead of answering him, pushed his jeans and boxers down, slowly sinking down to her knees in front of him. “I guess that answers my question,” he exhaled, slipping his fingers through her hair. 

She looked up into his eyes and let him bring her mouth towards his cock. The tip brushed against her lips, smearing the precum that dribbled out from the slit against her pink lips. She opened her mouth more, letting him guide her on and off his dick. She hummed at the taste of him invading her taste buds, the way it always did, making her mouth water. 

He liked how messy it got when she went down on him. She knew the way she drooled over his thick length set a fire of passion and desire that would make the Sun envious. When tears fell from her eyes across her flushed cheeks, her lashes sticking together, her eyes bright and glossy as she choked on him—he gripped her ginger hair harder and properly began fucking her face. 

Fast and loud, his cock went down her throat and in and out of her salivating mouth, edging himself the way he’d done to her. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” Dean praised, starting to slow down throating fucking her until he eventually pulled out of her mouth. A string of saliva and precum connected her mouth and his cock, breaking away when she stood back up. 

He brought her in for a kiss with a smug smirk, lewdly licking her lips for remnants of him before pushing his warm tongue past her swollen lips. They moaned softly and she buried both hands into his hair, her hands flexing before gripping strands of his hair to tug at. “We’re wasting time,” she reminded him, pecking his lips before sitting back up on the desk, using her calves to bring his hips forward. 

“I hope we waste a lot of time,” he licked his lips with a grin. Dean teasingly took his cock and gently tapped her clit with the head of it. 

She laughed breathlessly, squirming when he dragged his cock through her soaked folds, “that’s not funny.” 

“Well, it made you laugh,” he bit his lip, pressing his cock into her clenching, dripping pussy. 

“Your… face is funny, that’s why,” she lied playfully, his lips hovering over hers. He chortled and pulled back slightly, brows furrowed in playful offence, then he slapped his hand over her clit without warning. She yelped, and attempted to shut her legs, but Dean’s hips prevented her from doing so. 

“Come ‘ere, baby,” he whispered, guiding his cock back to her entrance. He cut off her playful protest with a kiss, and gently pushed himself into, digging his blunt nails into her hips. She placed her arm around his shoulder to prevent him from pulling away from her lips, only momentarily catching their breaths as he started to fuck her with abandon. 

Items on the desk rattled as he fucked her hard, the wooden table hitting the wall with every thrust of his hips. Her stomach flipped excitedly, his soft moans against her mouth, small whines from her against his. Dean occasionally bit her lip and kissed her with passion as they clung to each other, pulling each other close, desperate to get closer. 

Their warm breaths mingled together and she rolled her hips against his, her face burning with a blush, her pussy clenching tight around him. He grunted against her lip and buried his face into her neck, pushing his cock as deep as he could into her. His hot cum spilled inside her and she moaned in unison with him, her orgasm triggered by his. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped, fucking her through her orgasm before coming to a slow halt. Her neck was damp with his warm breath, her hot skin flushing a deeper rosy colour when she whimpered his name. 

“Thanks, Dean,” she murmured, kissing his temple before he pulled away. He smiled at her, his green eyes lovingly trailing over her face. He cupped her cheeks, pressing a lovingly kiss to her lips, the tip of her nose, and her forehead. “It’s kinda suspicious how long we took, isn’t it?” She laughed, biting her lip to muffle her moan when he slowly pulled out of her. 

“Yeah, uh, pretty much,” he chuckled, pulling his pants up. She watched him with her legs squeezed shut, the flushed afterglow on his face was more than obvious. 

“Oh well,” she shrugged, taking her underwear from the desk. Dean snatched them from her with narrowed eyes and got down to put them back on her. “Let’s go before it gets weirder,” she giggled, moving off the desk to fix her underwear properly. Dean nodded and lowered her dress once more, staring at her with a smirk when she began squirming as she walked. 

“You don’t wanna clean up?” He laughed, slapping his hand over her ass when he joined her. He squeezed the flesh and wrapped his arms around her from behind. 

“We can shower back at the motel,” she shrugged, squeaking when he turned her around and threw her over his shoulder faster than she could process. She laughed with him, clinging to his shirt as he held her with one arm around her, the other hand squeezing her thigh reassuringly. 

“Let’s get outta here fast, then,” Dean smiled, slapping her ass. “Wait, I need to say… I finally got to fuck Daphne.”

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[handsomeamoeba]

WRONG.

Try again.

Actually let's get into this. As someone who loves a great many fantasy RPGs including BG3, Skyrim, and Dragon Age, let me explain what BG3 gets that Skyrim misses, in my opinion.

And this is the big one: the characters in BG3 feel like real fucking people. They have backstories, demonstrable feelings about the events and the other characters, they react to the things you do and they develop as people as you further your relationships. Even minor NPCs often feel fleshed out with distinct personalities and opinions. Hell, going out of my way to cast Speak to Animals is usually rewarded with at least one charming remark. I have never given even a little bit of a shit about 99% of Bethesda NPCs. I usually choose to travel without a companion rather than with unless I need a pack mule to carry my stuff, because their primary function seems to be to get in my way, set off traps, or attract aggro. I can't remember most characters' names unless I'm actively playing. I'm more likely to casually murder people in Skyrim than I am in BG3 or DA because Bethesda hasn't really made any of their NPCs feel like real people, and consequentially I feel no guilt. By comparison I tried to do an evil run of DA:O and gave up the instant I had to kill Wynne (the grandmotherly spirit healer) when she refused to let me go through with my plans, because I hated doing it. Lydia will watch me gut an innocent man and do NOTHING because she has no life, existence, or personality outside of me, the player. This extends to romances, obviously. While optional in all the games, most people will pursue a romance path in BG3 or DA for the additional character arcs it brings to the characters, the emotional nuances they unlock. In Skyrim romance is a box you tick of tasks to complete. In fact, once you marry them, most marriage candidates personalities change *completely* because all spouses have the same few stock dialog lines. That is, if they had a personality to begin with (again, see Lydia). You know how everyone wants to romance unromanceable characters in Bethesda games? Like Brynjolf in Skyrim, or Nick Valentine in FO4? It's because Bethesda actually bothered to give them stories and opinions.

Honestly, this extends to the player character themselves. To a certain extent every player character is a blank slate, but in BG3 and DA it at least feels possible to develop a feeling about who that character is and what they would or would not say or do. I've tried to do that with the Dragonborn and rarely feel strong feelings about them or have strong opinions about what kind of person they are. The only one I've made who I have much of an idea about is my wood elf Parafina, who is Chaotic Evil. Which again is an option I only pick because no one in Skyrim feels real.

The stakes also feel more real in BG3, more personal. Obviously there's the central quest involving the tadpoles, but more than that, it is about a credible threat to your world and the people and communities in it and the people you love. There are tons of reasons to invest yourself emotionally in the narrative. I have never, ever completed the main storyline in Skyrim nor picked a side in Skyrim's civil war. Why would it? Basically nothing happens if I choose not to. Furthermore, if you're not playing as a Nord (which I usually don't), why would you care about Skyrim as a place? You are a faceless, voiceless (pun intended) outsider who gets microaggressed at every turn being asked to choose between two different flavors of fascist. Also dragons are back but like... listen, I don't care? They get pretty easy to pick off at a certain point, it's like swatting flies, they're just a nuisance on the way to my daily errands. And isn't that such a common story? Don't you know so many people who don't really bother with the main storylines of Skyrim? Yeah it's one of the bestselling games of all time but I feel like the fact that most people don't really care about its narrative should be a sign of failure. We all know it's mostly maintained its popularity due to the modding community.

Ultimately both games have rich worlds which reward exploration with little secrets and environmental storytelling. But BG3 feels more "meaningful" because they give me reasons to care about what happens. The writers worked hard to give the game emotional resonance. So I come to the two games for different experiences. I go to BG3 to engage with an interesting story. I go to Skyrim for the quick serotonin hit of completing tasks and hoarding items.

[docwormie]

Scenes of The fall of the House of Usher that I'm a little bit obsessed with :

Obviously. The one where Madeline and Verna kiss (nobody is surprised) because it's less than 1 minute long, it's never mentionned afterwards and yet it makes every scene they have together much more interesting (+ 2 girlkissers confirmed, that's a win !).

When Roderick watches corpses rain from the sky ??? That was so powerful wtf it carried a sense of sheer dread and anguish that I can't stop thinking about.

Tamerlane's death. Idk why it stuck with me so much, aside from the fact that it was Samantha Sloyan, it was beautifully filmed, and the fucking spasm at the end !!!! It was so fucking pathetic and sad, Tammy my sweet little girlfailure !

Victorine's whole going crazy thing. I love the Tell-Tale Heart but making it about lesbians ??? Oh mike the man that you are !!

The acid rain. Obviously. And when Verna kisses the melted body and there's a bit of flesh that sticks to her.... this was disgusting I want more !

When Roderick is alone with the Raven after finding out Lenore died. Very powerful + great climax and use of the poem !

The conversation between Juno and Tammy, it was one of the rare actually sweet scenes of the show, i'm glad Juno made it out alive !! And ruth codd's comedic talent is absolutely priceless !!

When Roderick tells Auggie to turn around because his dead mother is standing behind him. I laughed so hard. I feel like this was a meta-reference to Flanagan's habit of having ghosts just standing there in the background and never interacting with the characters and I absolutely LOST IT when she turned around like "nevermind".

Feel free to add your fav scenes because I probably forgot some of them !!

[janearts]

ASDLKFJADKJ I love how you two immediately jumped to 'ok but like... is he #4 material?' (For those wondering, "What The Hell Is A #4?", the answer is linked here for reference.)

(The way to a woman's heart is through her favourite animal, obviously.)

Halsin is very much Roisia's type physically—aka large and in charge—and he has character traits that she would be attracted to: he's kind and compassionate, strong-willed and decisive, gentle and slow to anger, and in possession of a wry sense of humour and a keen intellect. So, yes, in that regard, Halsin definitely stands next to Wyll on the "suitable suitor to bring home" list. Top tier. Well done.

Additional rambling thoughts below the cut.

The trouble with Roisia when it comes to matters of the heart is that she unwittingly looks at a person, thinks she knows their true desires, can play out their combined future in her head, and judge them as compatible or incompatible without questioning her basic assumptions about that person. So, for example, Roisia would in many ways find Halsin an ideal romantic partner. And then, she would get into her own head. Like so:

Halsin is an archdruid. An elf accustomed to leading a notoriously outdoorsy lifestyle in a grove. Roisia is going to someday inherit an entire funerary business and wants to stay in Baldur's Gate, known for being not-at-all grove-like. Surely Mr. Outdoorsman will feel cooped up and miserable in a city if he thought the Grove was too comfortable for his tastes. Incompatible!

Halsin is all about the Natural Order of Things. Balance. Guess who disrupts said natural order when she takes dead things and reanimates them? Roisia. Roisia does. So they're at opposite ends of an ideological spectrum. Incompatible!

He's an elf; she's a human. They are on two different timelines as regards their lifespan. Unless Roisia can guarantee her own extended lifespan in a way that preserves the flesh on her bones in addition to her bones, she wants to grow with her #4 and not outpace her #4. Incompatible!

Again, these are assumptions that Roisia would make about Halsin, and I think she would ultimately write him off as a potential #4 more out of fear of some future rejection down the line than of Halsin necessarily explicitly confirming any of these assumptions to be true OR as relationship dealbreakers if they were. I want to shout out to @gracelessrogue for their tags:

It would not occur to Roisia that she could bond with a druid and a healer over life and death. If she would only think to challenge her own baseline assumptions about what she thinks she knows about the people she's travelling with, I think she would see the ways in which she could nurture long-term romantic connections with one or multiple of our possible companions.

Because, as it is, I think the larger issue is that Roisia would write off not just Halsin, but all the current known companions as not being a good fit for her #4. I don't think she would look at any of them and say: 'This person would stay with me in the city of Baldur's Gate and be totally, completely comfortable and content in a house with bodies in the basement, my skeleton father roaming the halls, and a graveyard right out back.'

Granted, it's still only Act 1/EA, but that's just a real bummer.