#this is why I don't write fights often lol

[brownhairedbookworm]

Smirking, Bayonetta, instead of dodging, jumped toward the blade strike. She would then catch the blade with the three on Cernabog. Using her strength as both an Umbral Witch and a Lumen Sage, she twisted the caught blade a full 180 degrees and flung it back at the magical blast, hopefully to either fling the scythe away from Monika into the blast or fling Monika along with it. It all depended on how the technique was done

(I was just confused and had no idea on how that attack was phrased 😅)

"Oh god damn i-!" With the scythe caught and yanked to the side, Monika is flung back into the ocean. Splash! She sits up in the water, sputtering as she tries to think of another thing she can even try... Neither of her scythe options seemed effective, at all, but her whips are only melee range... And Bayonetta already proved she can use any attack to grapple her.

...Is she being pushed to use her summoning powers? Is that the lesson, here?

"TELOCH MOMAR!"

A green portal opens at Monika's side. A large pale woman in black clothing, distorted through the lens of being a construct of Monika's hair, rises up from it, wielding the same scythe that Monika has been handling. The two of them start running toward Bayonetta.

[ebitenpura]

Funny thing happened during a little speedrun through Iokath-- see how Theron's next to Eight here?

Usually your ranged comp hangs out on the far side of the room to focus on their own enemy, but Theron immediately ran over when getting attacked by this caretaker droid, which amused me greatly because it felt like he was trying to hide behind him.

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

[justauthoring]

Room for Two?

Summary: It's your night to keep watch up in the crows nest, and you're missing a certain swordsman. Luckily, Zoro misses you too.

Pairing: OPLA!Zoro Roronoa x F!Reader

Word Count: 870

A/N: Another fluff piece for my 'This is the Beginning' series! I had a dream about this scenario so I knew I had to write it, lol. Hope you enjoy!

You don't have to read the series, but if you'd like to, you can find it here!

It's a strangely quiet night on the Going Merry.

It seemed the rest of your crew was tired from the adventures of the day and had gone to bed earlier than normal. Though it was well past sun down when everyone had fallen asleep, it was still earlier than normal.

You, however, were still wide awake. It was your night to keep watch, so sat up in the crows nest, you were bundled up in a warm blanket to fight the night chill and staring up at the stars dancing across the nights sky. You'd ask Sanji to prepare you some coffee and food for the night, knowing it'd be the only thing that would keep you awake and the cook hadn't hesitated to oblidge.

There was something serene about being up at the crows nest, in the middle of the night, when everyone else was asleep. You were forever grateful for the day Luffy, Zoro and Nami had rescued you from Buggy's crew but the crew, now with two more people, were definitely a rowdy bunch.

There wasn't often a moment of quiet or calm on the Going Merry. You wouldn't trade that for anything. You relished in the constant that was the Strawhat Crew and it held the loneliness you've felt your entire life at bay.

But, nights like these, when you knew that come morning everything would return to normal, the peace was nice. Nice in the way that you got to experience it rather then be asleep. Watch nights were long, often spent trying to fight sleep and boredom, but there was something serene about them all the same.

Though, you guessed, if there was one complaint, it would be you wished there was a certain green-haired swordsman to keep you company.

You kept that wish to yourself, knowing it would be incredibly selfish of you to tear his sleep away from him because you wanted more alone time with him. He hadn't ever asked that of you on his nights--truthfully, you didn't know if he even returned the same wish.

And honestly, most nights, you got by on your own fine.

It was harder some nights, though.

Inhaling sharply, you pull your blanket tighter around yourself, trying to get as comfortable as you could in the cramped space that was the crows nest. You're in the midst of fluffling the pillow you were using as a seat when you hear a noise.

It gives you pause, body stilling, as you stop to listen for more.

Sure enough, a second later, another thud follows. And then another. It continues, until the noise gets close enough you can discern it as footsteps.

Frowning, you sit up, poking your head over the edge of the crows nest and glance down, only to see Zoro staring up at you. Relief that it was an attack of any sorts, your face twists in confusion at the sight of him.

"Zoro?" You call in a hushed yell, trying to be careful not to wake up at the others. "What're you doing up?"

Zoro, in typical Zoro fashion, chooses not to answer you. Instead, he calls up; "make room. I'm heading up." And doesn't leave any room for argument as he begins to climb up the ladder.

Baffled, you shuffle away from the entrance, moving to make what little room there is for him. It takes Zoro no more than a minute to make it to the top of the crows nest, his head popping up first before he slides into the spot next to you.

Letting the door fall shut, Zoro settles back against the crows nest.

You continue to stare at him.

"What?" He asks.

You huff, "what're you doing here? More importantly, why are you awake?"

Zoro shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. "I couldn't sleep."

"I highly doubt that," you snort. Zoro? Not able to sleep? The day that happened, you'd think you were dreaming.

Letting out a small chuckle, Zoro shakes his head. "Didn't like you being up here alone." He admits, voice low as he meets your gaze. "So I came to keep you company."

Heart fluttering at his words, your face softens. "This isn't my first time keeping watch, Zoro."

"I know," he nods. "Still, we stopped for the night earlier than we normally do. And you looked disappointed when everyone went off."

A smile curls onto your lips at his concern. Even if he won't outright say it, the meaning behind Zoro's words is obvious enough. You hadn't even known he'd seen you make that face.

So, heart warm at his care for you, you choose to not argue anymore. Zoro didn't do anything he didn't want to do, and you'd just been thinking about how much you missed your swordsman.

You were going to take advantage of the fact he was here.

Shifting, you move so you're next to him, slipping your hands into his as he watches you with curiosity. He lets you move his arm, settling it around your shoulders and, having caught on to what you wanted, he tucks you into his side. You drape the blanket around the both of you, letting your head fall against his chest.

"You can still sleep, Zoro," you mumble, staring up at the sky. "I'm happy just having you here."

"Nah," he breathes, squeezing your shoulder. "I wanna spend this time with you awake."

[stave-writes]

hello!! may i request mitrun and thistle(separately) x artist!reader who is very interested in their appearance, but hides it very well. most of the time they did not notice the reader's interest in their appearance(and they don't really notice the reader either lol), but one day, approaching the reader from behind to discuss something, they make some very high-quality sketches with them?? I hope this is not a very long request and don't forget to drink water!! :)

Mithrun & Thistle (Seperately) x Artist!GN!Reader

Word Count: 555

So sorry about how long this took to come out! Been fighting writer's block but the power of Mithrun debut (!!!!!) is forcing me to make sure I'm up to date with requests ^^

Also in terms of writing Thistle, I view them as mentally still underage so this will be platonic for them, sorry to disappoint at all ^^'

Mithrun could never understand why you look at him like you do, with a gaze full of curiosity and hiding behind your sketchbook when he catches you. Was there something in his hair? Did he do something to upset you? He tended not to pay you any mind, after all, he didn't care about much anymore. So, when asked by a mutual friend to go talk to you, he wasn't exactly against it.

He'd chosen to approach you from behind, simply to see how you'd react. It was funny seeing people jump or flinch when he teleported behind them, even if he didn't have a desire to play around like a child. So, he'd appeared behind you, face leaning right over your shoulder and opening his mouth to speak before he saw it. A...sketch of him?

It made more sense now, that you'd been watching him so often, that you were always face first in your sketchbook when he was around. You'd been drawing him, and he wasn't against it. In fact, the amount of detail was impressive, even if the visible bags under his eyes and the gauntness of his face did make him recoil just a bit.

"Good job." Was his quiet mutter, turning to look you in the face while you were visibly dying with a mix of surprise and embarrassment that you'd been caught by the very man who filled pages and pages of your sketchbook. A smile couldn't help but rise on his face, chuckling softly as he moved away from your personal space. It seemed he mulled his words for a second before shrugging, speaking plainly, "Someone sent me to come get you, said they have a message for you."

And with that deadpan speech, he was gone. Although, anyone who ran into the Captain that day did seem to think he was a little...sunnier than usual. Odd.

Thistle on the other hand is used to posing for portraits with his family, sitting politely still for the painters or being urged to smile brightly to not distract from Delgal or Yaad. He quite enjoyed not being the focus of the paintings, especially with his ears not paid much attention to.

So it was a little confusing when, as he draped himself to look over your shoulder, he saw a sketch of him. With his white hair tied up into the bun, it'd been in for the last 1000 years, and his ears were floppy slightly with youth but still pointed due to his elf heritage. It was a little flattering, being the subject of someone's art!

Smiling brighter than he had for a while, Thistle leant his head on your shoulder, peering up at you with those curious purple eyes and waiting for your reaction. It was a little confusing when you seemed almost upset he'd found your work. Was...he not supposed to see it?

"It looks good! Why didn't you show me it?" Thistle queried, leaning his elbows on your shoulder with a head tipped to the side, as if tilting his head would just knock understanding right into place. Even when you explained they were just personal sketches, Thistle let out a huff. "I like them. Can you make me one to have?" Eventually, you agreed with a sigh. He was lucky he was so damn cute.

[triaelf9]

Just a lil post about Taash and how I'm feeling about how ppl are reacting to them as someone who relates to them very strongly not only on the gender journey front, but also on the mom-issues front.

Cut for length b/c of course this won't actually be a "little" post lol

So I hear a lot of "Taash is too young" "Taash acts like a child" "Taash is too brash" "Taash has wildly binary views of the world" "Taash is thinks their reality is the world's reality" etc etc etc

And I'm here to say that as someone who realized that non-binary was a thing later in life, grew up trying to be them, but society was not only unwelcoming to that, but openly hostile at points, with a mom who had totally different interests, who very much wanted to protect them from the outside world to a point where it left them unprepared to deal with nuances of the world, etc, a mom who thought they were "just doing their best" but was never meant to be a mom, and never wanted to be a mom, didn't have the tools for mom-hood, who wanted to protect their child, but had no real idea how, and how every comment turned into the mom trying to steer her kid the right way, but just came out as a dig or a "you're not good enough" remark, AND looking after your mom in a world that is wholly unsuited to her, that she can't really adapt to and fit into, and kinda becoming her mom to a point so that your life completely revolves around her until you leave home?

Yeah. I get Taash. It's actually kinda freaky how, fantasy elements aside, I get Taash on a frightening level. (aside from the dragon stuff, we're both the same with that HELL YEAH DRAGONS)

Taash doesn't read young to me because I've always read young because of how I was raised. I didn't get the chance to figure myself out until I left home. I also had the benefit of being able to leave for college at a younger age, and got a chance to experience things away from my mom earlier. But seeing things in such a binary way, that's how it is when you're protected like that.

You don't want to admit how similar you are to how your mom sees the world, b/c she sees it in one way, and as you go through life, you get to learn differently. You come out of this situation INCREDIBLY judgmental at first. Why aren't THESE things conforming to MY reality. You come across as brash and childish. And when you get treated as such, it's triggering b/c that's how your mom treats you.

You hate how you look, you think you look like a freak b/c your mom is constantly commenting on your appearance. She does it out of love (she wants you to be healthy & not mocked by your peers) but she doesn't consider that constantly telling you not to look a certain way does damage. My self confidence only recovered in my thirties. I'm 4 days from my 38th birthday, and it took getting pregnant to finally be like "you know what, I don't hate myself & my body" which is MASSIVE for me.

So where do we get our self confidence? In things we enjoy, in hyperfocuses that we're good at. For me that's comics, naginata, fantasy & DA lore lol XD For Taash it's dragons, fighting, and working out. And when we falter there, it's devastating b/c it's the only way we can feel good about ourselves b/c our SELVES are disconnected and tucked away b/c they make us feel bad.

So I totally get how Taash reads to people. The autism aspects are more like my wife (who is autistic & has issues with social cues, while I'm HYPER AWARE of social stuff which fuels my anxiety b/c of the type of person my mom was and how I had to look after her), but I get it.

But it makes me sad when I hear people dunk on Taash as "bad writing" and "unrealistic" and "annoying" and it's like...is that how you see people like that? Is that how you see me and people like my wife? I feel like people aren't willing to look deeper so often (an issue with all the companions tbh & some day I'll have to get into my Davrin feels b/c BOY do I have them. Neve too, WHOOF) but I feel like if you do that in a game, I hope you don't do that irl.

anyway TLDR this is a Taash defense post b/c while they have a lot of issues, stuff they need to work out & have wrong opinions on stuff, they're growing, they're learning & they have to do it later than most. They're an incredibly complicated character with tons of nuance, and I can't wait to get deeper into their story and banter with companions in round 2 of my playthroughs, and then again in round 3

Sorry this is too long, and I'm sure not all of this was intended when they were written, but this is how it all clicked with me as someone who has lived a large portion of that stuff. Like, again, I'm nearly fucking FOURTY and I don't feel like I should be there yet b/c I started so far back. It ALSO doesn't help that ADHD wild child I was, I was held back in preschool b/c neurodivergence also makes a kid read younger, AND the choice to have me be the youngest in the class would have been a very bad one. So I'm older than most of my peers BUT I've always read younger, felt younger, and have had a sore spot when it comes to all that.

Thank you for coming to my Taash Talk, I'll be here all week to think about more stuff, including how their body makes them read as lady, and they're not sure how to feel about that, but they don't want to CHANGE it, but is it right?

ANYWHO this is why Taash is a fascinating character & deserves better than to be regulated to "annoying kid"

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK men act in and after a fight

Pairing: Gojo x reader, Megumi x reader, Nanami x reader

Word Count: 4,1k (a big baby)

Warnings: obviously hurt in every part but also a loooot of fluff, Megumi being as inexperienced as he is lol, Nanami's part is pure fan service, you're very welcome

Notes: I consider writing part ll of that with Choso, Geto and maybe Toji. If you're down for that, just leave me a comment or a like <3 as always thank y'all from the bottom of my heart for the love and support you give me, I truly don't deserve it <3

Part ll with Geto, Choso and Yuji can be found here

Tags: @ifuckfictionalmen @sanicsmut

Gojo Satoru

“So you think I’m being ridiculous? I saw the way she looked at you and how her hand brushed against yours way too often”, you hiss, whole body trembling in pure rage.

“Oh, so every woman that touches me is apparently into me, now I get it”, he sarcastically remarks.

You bite your tongue, desperately trying to stop yourself from crying. Why is he not able to understand that you don’t feel comfortable with that situation at all? You told him over and over, especially when she completely ignored your presence on your first meeting. How does he not see all of this?

“You…You transferred money to her. A lot, actually. And all of that after she completely ignored me when you introduced me”

“Just like I do for you-“

“I’m your wife, moron!”, you scream on top of your lungs.

Satoru’s face is twisted in annoyance. He thought he’d come home to your loving arms, cuddling on the couch after a stressful day. But this? You stormed into him the second he opened the door, holding up bank statements. Over the past weeks, this happened way too often, interrupting your otherwise very peaceful marriage in a way Satoru can’t take any longer.

“So what? We’re colleagues, (y/n). You are my wife, why don’t you get that I am forced to work with other women from time to time?”, he questions.

The way he rolls his blue orbs at you sends you over the edge completely.

“So colleagues transfer money, hold deep eye contact and touch each other oh so casually when having a conversation? Don’t fuck with me, Satoru. I told you over and over that it bugs me, that I’m concerned. And you do absolutely nothing about it.”

“Maybe if you’d stop acting like a bitch!”, he cries out in frustration.

Your heart sinks immediately when is words hit you with full force. Even though your relationship with Satoru does get pretty heated from time to time, he never called you names. Never.

Not until now, when it comes to that woman.

You need to get off his sight, away from his stinging presence. Without saying another word, you storm into your shared bedroom and lock the door behind you before he’s able to follow you.

“Maybe if you’d stop acting like a bitch!”

His stinging words repeat themselves over and over in your head while you can’t hold back your tears any longer. This is so unfair. Why is he too blind to see the way she hunts after him, that she wants him to be more than a simple colleague? All you want him is to understand how uncomfortable this situation is for you, that you feel somehow betrayed.

“Open the door, (y/n)”, his clear voice is heard from behind the door.

Satoru knew he overdid it the second he saw the devastated look on your face. No matter how ridiculous this whole topic is, you don’t deserve his anger towards you. Mei isn’t more than a colleague for him though, a woman he has worked with on missions for years. She surely doesn’t like him like that, it’s simply impossible-

His phone vibrates in his pants, making him take a look at the screen.

What do you think about dinner tonight? Just the two of us.

He signs at her message, realization hitting him like a wall. Fuck, what did he do? The countless times her touch brushed over him, the messages she sent him not work related at all every night and how she always avoided the conversation when it came to you flood his mind uncontrollably. How could he make you feel this way? You told him over and over that you feel uncomfortable with this situation, asked him for compromises. And now…

Now he made you feel unwanted, delusional and dumb. You are his wife, the love of his life, the one thing that keeps him going in this world full of madness.

“Can you let me in, (y/n)? I’m sorry…”, he hushes against the closed door.

You can’t catch your breath, dry sobs hunt your body down when a new wave of sorrow washes over you. Does he even love you? All this time you thought you were the love of his life, his pride. But now…It feels like he chose that woman over you, that he cares about her opinion and feelings more than yours.

“I’m coming in”, he softly announces.

Of course, a simple closed door can’t keep him out if he doesn’t want to.

The second he lays his eyes on your crumpled on the floor figure, his heart completely breaks. Instantly, he kneels down in front of you and embraces you in his arms while your sobs make him hate himself even more.

“I’m so unbelievable sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean it like that at all. It’s just that in my world, there’s only you and no one else. I never understood how you even get the idea of me liking another woman because this scenario is ridiculous to me. I shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that. I’m so so sorry…”, he mumbles against your ear.

Despite his words still haunt your mind, you can’t help but let yourself fall at least a little into his inviting arms, tears staining his uniform.

“I will talk to her and make clear that you are the one and only for me, I promise.”

It’s impossible to stay mad at him for long. You wrap your longing arms around him, forehead pressed against his.

“So you understand my point?”, you mutter.

“I do and I’m sorry for making you feel this way. You are the only woman in my life and I love you more than anything else”, he reassures you once again.

You definitely won’t get him away this easily. After all, words mean nothing without action. But this is a step in the right direction and for now, you can definitely live with that.

“Now, please stop crying, I’ll call her right away and we’ll watch your favorite show and order some food after, what do you think?”

“Only if you pay”, you sniff.

Megumi Fushiguro

“Oh, where are you going?”, you question when your boyfriend Megumi gets up from the bed so early in the morning that it’s still dark outside.

The last few weeks were like a trip to hell and back, it seems like your relationship consists of Megumi going on missions while you have to stay behind. Before this night, you haven’t seen him for one whole week and while you do understand his responsibly as a jujutsu sorcerer, you can’t help but feel hurt.

“On a mission of course”, he remarks dryly.

Your eyes begin to burn as your heart sinks. It’s like you don’t know him anymore, as if he’s only the shell of the man you used to love. Is he so sick of you that he doesn’t want to spend a single day on your side? Is all of this on purpose? You can’t hold back any longer.

“You’re always leaving me”, you blurt out.

It shouldn’t bother you. After all, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer yourself. Despite being Shoko’s trainee you should be aware of the fact that this job is a mess and means you have to dedicate your whole life to it.

But still you can’t help but fell hurt. Hurt because your boyfriend doesn’t even smile anymore when he returns, hurt because he comes and goes without saying a word, hurt because you feel like you lost him.

“What was that?”, he grumbles.

“Do you think I do this on purpose?”

“I just feel like you’re never here. And I miss you.”

“Not all of us have an easy job like you, (y/n).”

You swallow hard. Wow, that is new. And extremely painful. Even though you aren’t out there fighting, you still have a lot to do, working your ass off so everyone survives, day and night ready if something happens. This is just not fair.

“You think my job is easy? Stitch yourself up next time, then”, you hiss and cross your arms over your chest.

“Don’t come at me. You started this whole thing!”

“Yeah, I ‘started this whole thing’ because you are my boyfriend and I love you, and I…I fucking miss you! But fine, if you don’t feel the same I’ll just leave.”

It’s ridiculous and you know it, mind screaming violently, begging you to stay. But your heart can’t. This was simply too much. You can’t stay here with a boy that treats you like this.

“If you leave now-“

“Then what?”, you interrupt him immediately, cold eyes glaring at him while your hand rests on the door.

“You’ll leave? You leave every time, Megumi. See you around…Or not.”

And with that, you leave him standing in his room alone, staring at the door like an idiot. What the hell has gotten into you? Since when are you acting up like that? He doesn’t know you like that. But still, your words do make him wonder if you’re somehow right…

He shakes his head violently. No, you’re being ridiculous. Maybe you need to sleep in and you’ll figure this out as soon as he returns.

But one things for sure: Megumi definitely won’t make the first move.

And so days pass until finally weeks begin to pass without both of you saying a single word to each other. Every time you see him you feel like dying inside, heart screaming at you in agony to stop your stubbornness, to approach him and say sorry. But you can’t. You simply can’t over the fact that he let you go like that, not even looking your direction when you cross each other. It’s like he doesn’t know you anymore despite all the nights you shared with each other, despite the intimate moments you’ve had.

No, it seems like he doesn’t care at all.

“Hey (y/n)!”, Nobara greets you.

“Hey, I’m in a bit of a rush”, you explain briefly, already on your way to assist Shoko in an autopsy of a curse.

“It’s just…(y/n), are you and Megumi okay?”, Nobara mutters, her face twisted in concern like you’ve never seen before.

You stop in your tracks, a new wave of grief washing over you. No, nothing is okay, absolutely nothing to be exact. You want to scream it into her face, break down crying, let all your feelings out. But instead, you just gift her an empty smile and say:

“Sure.”

‘Sure’ as if he never raised his voice at you, ‘sure’ as if Megumi would care about you feeling lonely and missing him, ‘sure’ as if you actually meant something to him

“I mean it’s none of my business but…You guys haven’t talk for what feels like an eternity, you are no longer there and I’m just worried that he messed things up with you, y’know…Well, let me know if I can help you with something, okay?”

She gently places her hand on your shoulder while you have to force yourself to not shed a tear. Oh, if she only knew. If she only knew that the last weeks were absolute hell, that you feel like dying inside. But this is something you and Megumi have to deal with alone. Even Nobara can’t help you with that.

You say goodbye to her and walk towards the laboratory, tears still stinging threatening in your eyes. How much you long for talking to him, to tell him how much his words really hurt you. But you can’t bring yourself to make the first step. After all, you tried to talk this out multiple times only for him to not even listen. No, this time he’ll have to make the first move if he wants you back.

If…

“(y/n).”

That voice. That oh so familiar voice that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Megumi”, you breathe out, slowly turning around to face him.

There he stands, scratching his head while looking at your feet, eyes not meeting your gaze.

“How…how you’ve been?”

Even a blind man would see the blush creeping up his face…Is he embarrassed? Painfully awkward silence hangs between you two as all you can do is stare at him, your blood slowly but surely boiling up. Is he really asking you how you’ve been after not talking to you for weeks, ignoring you every time he saw you?

“You have some fucking nerves”, you spit at him, closing the gap between you two with a rushed movement.

“You’re not talking with me for weeks and now you’re asking how I’ve been? I’ve been miserable, Megumi. I felt like dying every time you ignored me!”

Fuck, don’t cry. Don’t let him see how you really feel. Your trembling hands frantically wipe away the threatening tears, eyes darted towards him.

“I just couldn’t, (y/n). It’s just…I…”, he stumbles over his very own words, fingers over and over running through his hair.

“I was able to see it until I thought about it. I’ve been a horrible boyfriend, (y/n). So horrible that I thought you’d be better off without me. But I’m simply too selfish to let you go. I’m sorry for not making time for you, I’m sorry for treating you like shit, I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t love you when in reality, all I was able to think about was you and how much I missed you sleeping besides me”, he suddenly blurts out, leaving you completely speechless.

This is everything. Everything you longed for, ever single word you graved so deeply. Did this thick silence really change the way he sees your relationship now? A look into his sorrow – filled eyes is enough to realize that he’s telling the truth, making your heart jump up and down.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because I know I’m not the boy you deserve and I’d fully understand if you’re having enough of me. I just wanted to let you know that I can see it now and that I want to give you what you deserve if you let me.”

The glistening in his eyes literally begs you for a second chance while your very own heart screams at you. Of course you want him back, Megumi is everything you ever wanted. But he’ll have to show that it’s really different this time.

“Promise me something”, you announce.

He tilts his head to his side, brows furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

“Promise me you’ll stay with me today, that we’ll spend time together. No mission, no obligations.”

“I’ll stay as long as you need, as long as you want me around, (y/n). This time without you hurt like hell, I simply don’t want to let you go again”, he hushes, his tender fingertips brushing over your arms.

“That sounds good…”, you mutter, resting your head against his chest.

God, how much you missed that feeling. Even though your relationship had its ups and downs, you always admired the way Megumi was able to calm you down in an instant with a simple touch of his hand.

Maybe you will figure it out now. And maybe him not having time for you stays in the past forever.

Kento Nanami

“Fuck”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

You’re on your way home after a pretty ugly mission. And even though Shoko already stitched you up, you feel like dying. Everything just hurts, it’s hard to even walk.

The thought of your husband at home makes your guts turn. Not because you don’t love him or aren’t longing to see him, but because of your recent conversation.

“It can’t go on like this, (y/n). You’re always injured and it’s starting to concern me. Maybe I have to talk t-“

“No”, you interrupted him immediately.

“Please don’t. I’ll be careful from now on. I promise.”

“Fine. But if this happens again, I’ll have a talk with the elders.”

And it happened again. All these missions one after another really took their toll on your concentration. One moment of unwariness was enough to sweep you off your feet, thigh sliced open in the nastiest way you’ve ever seen. Shoko told you it will take some time to heal entirely, but if Kento gets to see this…

“Maybe I should call Nanami to pick you up. You really can’t walk like that (y/n).”

“No, please don’t!”, you begged Shoko for dear life.

“I don’t want this to cause trouble. It’s fine, really!”

“You almost died, (y/n)”, she remembered you dryly.

“And I will definitely die if you tell him. Please Shoko.”

She signed.

“Fine. Just be careful and visit me tomorrow…”

You swallow. A fight seems inevitable if you won’t hide your wound from him.

You take a deep breath, keys trembling in your sweaty palms. Fuck, why does this have to ache so badly? Shoko gave so some pain killers, you shouldn’t feel a single thing.

No, focus. Pain is only in your head. But Kento is very real.

With one last stolen glance at your injured leg you open the door, forcing a smile on your face. Where is he? Your heart beats out of your chest, hands so sweaty that you have to wipe them on your coat.

“Kento?”, you shout into the quiet living room, closing the door behind you gently.

“There you are, sweetheart”, his voice coos out of the bedroom.

Your breath hitches, eyes wide open at the sight in front of you. There he stands, your loving husband. Dressed in nothing but his pants, bare chest immediately captivating you. Oh god, he looks so delicious that you feel like fainting, hungry eyes roaming over his tight muscles as if you haven’t seen him like that hundreds of times before.

“Where have you been? A mission like that shouldn’t take this long.”

He begins to approach you elegantly, staring at you with a small smile on his delicate lips.

“Y-yeah…Still had something to…y’know…say…to Shoko”, you stutter.

Why does he have to look so absolutely delicious? And why does your leg suddenly feel so…wet?

“Are you alright? You seem a little unfocused today. Did you get hurt?”

His eyes scan over your body without any mercy, forcing you to hide your leg behind the other.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine”, you press out.

No, you’re anything but fine. The way your other leg brushes against your injured one makes you see stars. You feel like fainting and throwing up at the same time, sweat running down your forehead uncontrollably. You need medication – now.

“I planned something very excited for us today. Something you might like”, he purrs, closing the distance between your bodies.

His hand grabs your waist passionately while your mixed emotions take your breath away. God, how much you love the way his arms wrap themselves around you, knowing exactly that this leads you directly into the bedroom.

But that means…

“Oh yeah?”, you chuckle nervously.

That means he’ll see the wound you’re so desperately trying to hide.

“Absolutely”, he breathes against your ear.

Oh god, this is so good…No, it’s not good at all. You need to get away from him, out of this misery, into t-

A toe-curling scream escapes your lips before you even realize what is happening, body stumbling backwards.

“(y/n)!”, Nanami mutters, eyes wide open.

He squeezed your leg like he always does and just the way you like it. Why on earth are you acting like that? That haunted look on your face almost makes it seem as if he hurt you.

Lost in thoughts, he looks down at his hand.

His blood-smeared hand.

It slowly dawns to him. No, it isn’t because he did something you don’t like. It’s because you’re injured again. And you decided to lie into his face about it.

“What is this?”

Your husband’s voice sounds as unpromising as you imagined it in this situation, eyes widen in horror while you’re still panting in agony.

Fuck. Your heart drops immediately by the sight of his blood smeared hand. Kento is an outstanding smart man, too clever to be considered an idiot by your actions.

“You promised me to stay safe. And that you lie to be about being injured...”

“(y/n), look at me”, he insists, grabbing your chin.

His eyes seem to stare right through your soul as he glances down at you, jaw tightened.

“I can’t believe you lied to me.”

“Only because you’d freak out”, you reply in your own defense.

“Like I should! I told you over and over to look out for yourself, to skip a few missions before you get seriously hurt. And what is that, huh?”

He points at your wounded leg, blood now soaking through the fabric of your skirt.

“You are severely injured. Just like I predicted.”

You feel like a child being scolded by her parents. Even though Kento never raises his voice at you aggressively, you can tell by the way his whole body tenses up and that glistening in his gaze that he’s absolutely furious.

“I am able to look after myself. I know what’s best for me”, you remark annoyed.

Fuck, you’re so damn tired. All you want is to bandage yourself up and go to sleep.

“Yes, I can see that.”

Something about his sarcastic tone and the way he stares down at you while shaking his head makes you snap.

“I’m a grown woman, I don’t need you to look after me like a damn child! Mind your own business, Kento!”

“You are my business. You are my wife. It’s my responsibility to take care of you!”, he barks back.

“But I don’t want you to take care of me, I want you to leave me alone!”, you spit into his face, making him drop his shoulders immediately.

God, you want to take that back straightaway, knowing damn well how your comment hurt his feelings. But at the moment, all you can think about is a warm bed and finally some rest.

You drag yourself into the bedroom and let your trembling body fall onto the mattress. This is not fair, right? After all, you aren’t a child anymore, you are able to look after yourself…right?

You close your eyes, the disappointed look on Kento’s face lingering through your mind. It wasn’t fair to snap at him, though. He is your husband, always caring about you. No, he certainly doesn’t deserve you to treat him like this.

Three soft knocks on the door.

“Can I come in?”, his damped voice questions.

“Sure”, you mumble.

You can’t even look at him when he enters the room in silence, elegant steps leading him to the bed where he sits down next to you. Suddenly, he begins to rip open a package of bandages, catching your attention.

“What are you doing?”

“I take care of you. May I?”

His gaze wanders to your skirt, eyes asking you for permission to pull it up.

“Sure…”, you mutter, a slight blush creeping up your face when his fingers brush over your panties.

“How did this happen?”, he asks softly while his skilled fingers remove the blood soaked bandage.

“I don’t know exactly. Wasn’t paying full attention and got hit by a curse.”

“I see.”

Despite all the things you said to him, despite the way you hurt him a few minutes ago, your man kneels in front of you and caresses your wound with so much affection that it doesn’t hurt at all. Your eyes wander over him, how his gaze is focused exclusively on your thigh, skilled fingers working wonders.

“I’m sorry for lashing out and not telling you”, you let out, not able to hold in your bad conscience any longer.

“I understand that I put you in an uncomfortable position when I threatened to talk to the elders about this and I’m very sorry for that. But it can’t go on like this, (y/n). This is the 5th serious injury within three weeks and I’m truly worried about you. I don’t want you to end like-“

He stops himself from finishing that sentence but oh you know exactly what he means and it shatters your heart. Without hesitation, your fingers grab his face gently, eyes locking with yours.

“I love you, Kento. And I see that you’re right. I’ll talk to the elders tomorrow myself about that”, you assure him.

A small but precious smile appears on his face, free hand caressing your cheek with so much affection that you have to hold back a tear.

“You’re my everything, sweetheart. Let’s stitch you up and go to bed.”

[isa-beenme]

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight

Welcome to part 2 of Whispers of Secrets and Starlight 🥳🥳🥳

I was praying for times I could use this song

Btw if anyone is wondering, idk why but this is what I imagine the daily outfits our future high lady wears: all of this or this other too, and a lot of other kpop outfits actually, the concepts are soooo good

Also... my bff who lives with me helped me write the smut, I'm too shy to do everything by myself so if you feel the writing is a bit off it probably wasn't just me in the document lol

Warnings: Use of Y/N, ACOTAR rewrite, female main character, Tamlin knows how to do politics 😔, 10% book following and it's gonna get worse, mentions of SA, PTSD, smut so... beware minors, mentions of war, Rhysand 🤤

Whispers of Secrets and Starlight - Masterlist

Chapter 9: Heart On The Window

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its glow casting flickering golden light across the maps and reports strewn across your desk. A cup of untouched tea sat beside them, long gone cold. You didn’t even notice when Rhysand stepped into your study until his voice curled around you.

"You’re working too hard, darling."

Your lips twitched, but you didn’t look up from the report in your hands. "Pot, meet kettle."

Rhysand let out a soft huff of laughter as he crossed the room. The moment he reached you, he leaned against your desk, one hand braced beside your papers, the other offering a sealed letter.

Your brows rose as you took it. "What’s this?"

"News from Cassian."

That caught your full attention.

You set the report down and broke the seal, eyes scanning the contents. Your heart thrummed as you read. Rhys watched you carefully, his own report still in hand.

"The first female Illyrian battalion," you murmured. "That’s… that’s never been done before."

"One of the many changes I’ve been making these past centuries," Rhysand said softly.

You lifted your gaze to his, and for a moment, all you could do was look at him. This High Lord who had spent centuries fighting against deep-seated traditions, against Illyrian warlords who would rather see their females clipped than ever give them a sword — or freedom. A male who had been changing Prythian long before anyone had even noticed.

"You’re making history," you said, voice quiet.

A shadow of a smile ghosted over his lips. "We’re making history. They only accepted after Cassian told them a female would be commanding their moves. You."

The words settled deep in your chest but before you could say more, you glanced down at the rest of the letter. Cassian had intensified the training of the Illyrians, preparing them for war, making sure they were ready for what was to come.

"Az is extending his spy network, I don't know if you already read his report today" you murmured. "He's been trying to find more information about Hybern’s allies. Do we know if they’ve been securing more partnerships in the last few years?"

Rhysand’s jaw tightened. "Not officially. But Amren believes they will be showing themselves soon."

You sighed, setting the letter down. "Lucien said Tamlin has a map of the Cauldron’s pieces," you reminded him. "And now we know that the temples marked on it have been robbed recently. Hybern is gathering the pieces."

"I know, Amren told me you both figured it out two days ago."

You swallowed, looking back at him. "She thinks we won’t have to worry, though. The temple in our territory is being heavily guarded now, and I warned Helion. I mean, you technically warned Helion. The Day Court is prepared in case they are attacked too."

Rhysand nodded. "That’s the one thing keeping her from completely losing her mind over this. She's been surprisingly calm, judging the situation."

A smirk tugged at your lips. "And you?"

He hummed. "I suppose it helps me sleep at night."

"You don’t sleep."

A slow, wicked smile curved his mouth. "Maybe I would, if someone warmed my bed more often."

Your breath caught. But before he could push his advantage, you rolled your eyes and turned back to the reports.

"We still don’t know how far Tamlin is willing to go with all this," you said, attempting to steer the conversation back on track.

Rhysand let out a mocking sigh, but he nodded. "Lucien’s been doing what he can from within," he said, "but Tamlin is wary of him. He won’t let him get close to the real plans."

Your nails tapped against the desk. "If Lucien can’t get close enough, then we need another plan."

Rhysand leaned in, his voice a velvet promise. "Don’t worry, darling. I already have one."

You narrowed your eyes. "Do I even want to know?"

His grin was pure trouble. "You’ll find out soon enough if we need to use it. If not, I won't stress you with it."

You sighed. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you adore me." You did. Gods help you, you did.

Rhysand leaned back on the desk, rolling his shoulders, exhaustion from war planning still evident in the sharp lines of his face. But when he looked at you, his violet eyes softened, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"And how is Feyre's reading coming along?" he asked, the shift in topic intentional. He knew you needed a break from discussing battle strategies, and nothing made you more at peace than talking about your cousin’s progress.

You smiled, stepping closer to him. “She’s doing so well. You’d be proud of her.” A hint of pride laced your voice as you continued. “She’s becoming more confident, and even asks me to sit with her while she reads out loud. She still struggles sometimes, but she doesn’t hesitate to ask for help anymore. And she already thanked the priestess who's been guiding her more times than Iris can tell her it's not needed.”

Rhys hummed in satisfaction. “She also reached out to me, asking to restart her physical training.”

Your brows lifted in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded, reaching for your hand, tracing lazy circles against your palm. “I set up one of our trainers to work with her. She’s determined.”

You exhaled, warmth filling your chest. “That’s all I ever wanted for her, so she will feel strong again.”

Rhysand tugged you forward, his arms wrapping around your waist as you instinctively circled yours around his neck. He let out a pleased sigh, nuzzling your temple.

“You’re happy she’s trusting you,” you whispered.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Of course, I am. I need your family to like me, don’t I? Especially if we pretend to get married.”

The way he said 'pretend’ made your stomach flutter. Your cheeks burned as you averted your gaze, and Rhys, ever the predator, caught the reaction immediately.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “What’s that look for?” You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened just enough to keep you there. His voice was softer this time, almost unsure. “Do you want to marry me?”

Your breath hitched. “Rhys.”

“I mean it,” he murmured. “Do you want to officially be my High Lady one day?”

You stared at him, at the sincerity in his expression, at the slight vulnerability peeking through his usual confidence. Your heart clenched, and you wondered how long he’d been holding onto that question, too afraid to ask.

“Of course, you insane male,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his. “It’s been a process to love you, but every day, I feel like I’m falling even more.”

Rhys let out a shaky breath before sealing his lips over yours. The kiss was slow, reverent as if he were committing this moment to memory. But then his hands skimmed down your back, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

You pulled away just enough to chuckle. “See? This is exactly why I asked for separate studies.” But you didn't made a move to stop him from taking your shirt off.

Rhys grinned, voice husky. “Are you complaining?”

You leaned in, lips grazing his ear. “If you prove to me that you’re my good boy,” you purred, “I might be willing to warm your bed for a while.”

A growl rumbled in his chest as he swiftly lifted you onto the desk, pushing aside the endless war papers without a second thought. “Oh, darling,” he murmured, kissing down your throat, hands already roaming. “You’ll never have to ask twice.”

And Mother above, did he prove himself.

War papers sprawled across the polished wooden surface, their edges curling slightly as if mocking the chaos they represented. Yet, amidst the tension of impending battles and political strife, you and Rhysand found yourselves locked in a different kind of conflict, one of desire, power, and unspoken promises.

Rhysand stood tall, his broad shoulders filling the space as he leaned over you, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was both tender and voracious. It was a kiss that spoke of reverence, of a man committing every detail of the moment to memory. But as his hands slid down your back, his fingers catching on the top that holds your breasts, the tenderness gave way to something wilder. He tugged the fabric upward, a silent demand that left no room for misinterpretation.

You knew Rhysand’s tendencies, his inability to keep his hands — or his lips — to himself when you were near. It was a game you both have been playing for a while, a dance of power and submission that neither was willing to abandon.

A primal growl rumbled in his chest, deep and resonant. With deliberate slowness, Rhysand dipped his head, his mouth closing over your breast. His tongue swirled lazily, a hungry exploration that made you arch into him, his breath hitching in your chest. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he suckled, his teeth scratching tour skin in a way that only heightened the pleasure. It was a sensation that was both tender and rough, a perfect blend of his duality, the gentle lover and the dominant High Lord.

“Rhys,” you gasped, fingers tangling in his hair as you tilted your head back, exposing your neck to his roaming lips. His name was a plea, a surrender to the sensations overwhelming you.

He hummed against your skin, a vibration that sent shivers down your spine, before pulling away just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark with desire, his pupils dilated as he drank in the sight of you. “You taste like heaven everytime I try you again,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing.

But he wasn’t done yet.

With a wicked grin, he slid lower, his lips and tongue mapping every inch of you again, committing it to memory. His breath was hot and eager as he buried his face between your thighs, his hands spreading your legs wider to grant him better access. You were wet, your arousal evident, and he wasted no time in devouring you with a ferocity that left you trembling and gasping for breath.

His tongue was relentless, tracing patterns that made you squirm and moan. He lapped at you eagerly, his teeth scratching your sensitive skin in a way that only added to the pleasure. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he explored every inch of you again, his mouth a tempest of sensation.

“Rhysand,” you cried out, voice breaking as your climax built, threatening to consume you. Your fingers dug into the desk, nails scraping against the wood as you fought to anchor herself to reality. The wood almost cracked under the force you were holding it.

He growled against you, a sound of satisfaction and possession, before pulling away just enough to look up at your eyes. His lips were glistening, your essence coating them, and the sight was enough to send a fresh wave of desire crashing over you. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice a command. “I’m not done with you.”

You shivered at his words, your body aching for release, but you nodded, trusting him implicitly. This was your dance, after all, a delicate balance of power and surrender.

With a smirk, he rose to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he unbuckled his belt. His pants fell to the floor, revealing his erection, thick and throbbing, a testament to his desire for you. He didn’t rush, taking his time to savor the moment, to let your anticipation build.

“You’re mine,” he stated, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through you. It wasn’t a question, but a declaration, a reminder of the rummaging bond between you.

“Yours,” you breathed, voice soft but unwavering. You were his, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to be claimed by him again.

He leaned over you, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as he positioned himself at your entrance. His eyes locked with yours, he thrust forward, filling you in one slow, deliberate motion. You gasped, nails digging into the wood as you adjusted to his size, your body welcoming him with a tightness that made him groan.

“So fucking perfect,” he muttered, his voice strained as he began to move, his hips snapping in a rhythm that was both urgent and controlled. The desk creaked beneath you, the papers long forgotten as you become lost in the moment.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, your thighs rasping on his jacked as you met his thrusts, your body moving in sync with his. The power exchange was palpable, his dominance evident in every stroke, yet you were no passive participant. You were his equal, your desire matching his own as you surrendered to the pleasure he wrought.

“Harder,” you asked — never demanded, your voice breathless as you tilted your hips, seeking deeper penetration. You wanted nothing more than to carve your nails in his back, hold him closer to you, but you held yourself back. In the future, you promised yourself.

He obliged, his thrusts becoming more forceful, the desk groaning under the pressure of your passion. His hands gripped your hips, bruising in their intensity, as he pounded into you, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“You like that, don’t you?” he growled, his lips brushing your ear as he nipped at your lobe. “My good girl, taking my cock like you were made for it.”

“Yes,” you moaned, your head falling back as you surrendered to the pleasure. “Because I was made for you, Rhys. Always for you.”

His thrusts quickened, his control slipping as he neared the edge. “Come for me,” he commanded, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Let me feel you fall apart around me.”

Your climax hit you like a wave, crashing over you with an intensity that left you breathless. You cried out, your walls clenching around him as you shattered, body trembling with the force of your release.

He followed moments later, his growl of satisfaction filling the room as he spilled himself deep within you. His body stilled, his forehead resting against yours as you both struggled to catch your breath.

For a long moment, you remained like that, hearts pounding in unison, the only sound the crackling of the fire. Then, with a soft chuckle, Rhysand pulled back, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss.

“I believe I’ve proven myself,” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the lines of his face as you leaned into him. “You have,” you agreed, tone playful. “Though I suppose I’ll have to keep testing you, just to be sure.”

He grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, darling.”

And as you leaned into each other, the world outside — with its wars and worries — faded into insignificance. In that moment, there was only you, your desire, and the unspoken promise of more to come.

He took himself out of your warmth and winnowed both of you to his bathroom, where the bath started to fill itself under his silent command.

☆

The warm water calmed over both of you as steam curled around the marble walls. Rhys sat between your legs, his back resting against your chest, his wings slightly spread as he let you run a washcloth gently over his shoulders. His head leaned back against your collarbone, eyes closed, breathing deep.

You knew he wasn’t just relaxing, he was listening. Feeling. Memorizing every little touch, every caress, every drop of water sliding between you both. Your fingers traced soft circles on his arms before dipping lower, washing away the sweat and heat from earlier. You were always cautious during those moments, always careful with what you said and did.

Because you knew. You knew how Amarantha had broken him in ways no one else could see. How she had forced him into submission, twisted pleasure into something sickening. How, even now, the wrong words — hell, sometimes even the wrong tone — could bring back the shadows of those fifty years under her claws.

He never hid anything from you. When you started experimenting with your bodies, he had laid his boundaries out, not because he was ashamed or scared, but because he trusted you. And so you were careful every time. Not cautious in a way that made him feel fragile, but careful in a way that let him know he was safe.

Your hands drifted up to his hair, gently massaging his scalp. “You were perfect,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple.

His lips quirked up. “I always am.”

You let out a soft laugh, rubbing circles into his chest. “I mean it.”

His breath hitched slightly, as if he hadn’t expected the words. As if, even after all this time, he still didn’t know what to do with your gentle appreciation for all of his effort into your pleasure.

So you continued, voice low, steady. “You’re always so good to me, Rhys. Always so careful, even when you don’t have to be.”

One of his hands came up to cover yours, gripping it tightly against his chest. Your other hand dipped into the water, trailing down his spine. No scratches. No harsh touches. Just warmth. Just you.

When you reached for the soap, Rhys shifted slightly, making room as you lathered it between your hands and ran it along his skin. But when you started to reach for his neck, he stilled. You knew why.

There had been a time — just a few months ago — when he would scrub his own skin raw after being with Amarantha. When he had tried to erase every last trace of her, even if it meant bruising himself in the process. And so now, every time you bathed together, you made sure to leave your scent on him somehow. To remind him it was you touching him. Only you. For the rest of your lives, if he wanted.

So instead of washing the soap away completely, you leaned down, kissing the spot down his ear. Your scent lingered there, mixing with his own.

“You're mine,” you whispered. Not as a claim. But as a reassurance.

Rhys exhaled, tension melting from his body as he turned in your arms, cupping your face with wet hands.

His forehead pressed against yours. “Yours,” he murmured back.

He kissed you then, slow, deep, and reverent. As if you were something sacred. And when he pulled you tighter against him, when his wings curled protectively around your back, you knew this wasn’t just about washing away the past.

This was about building something new. Something better. Something that could be yours.

As the bathwater cooled and the steam in the room began to fade, Rhys pressed one last lingering kiss to your shoulder before exhaling a slow, steady breath.

You both moved in unspoken sync, toweling off, dressing in soft nightclothes, the weight of the day and the amount of hours laying down war plans slowly pressing down on your limbs. But just as you turned to head for your own chambers, Rhys caught your wrist.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured.

You blinked up at him, searching his face. He had been the one to ask for separate rooms in the first place, not because he didn’t want you near, but because of his nightmares. He hadn’t wanted to wake you up in the middle of the night — even if sometimes he couldn't control his emotions from slipping through the bond —, hadn’t wanted to steal any of your attention away from Feyre when she was still adjusting to Velaris, to being free from Tamlin, to her new life.

You swallowed, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand. “Are you sure?”

Rhys hesitated. Just for a moment. Then he nodded. “The nightmares haven’t really stopped,” he admitted, voice quiet. “But…” His fingers tightened slightly around yours. “When you’re with me, I—” He exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. “I always feel calmer. And sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night, all I want is to know that you’re here. That you’re safe. That you’re with me.”

Your chest ached at the raw honesty in his voice. So you stepped closer, reaching up to cradle his jaw in your hands. “Of course, Rhys,” you whispered. “I’ll always be with you.”

Something flickered in his eyes, something deep and reverent and yours. He kissed you, soft and slow, before taking your hand and leading you to his bed. And as you curled up together beneath the covers, as his arms wrapped securely around you, as he buried his face against your neck and breathed you in, you knew. Tonight, if the nightmares came, he wouldn’t have to face them alone.

☆

The next morning, you made your way to Feyre’s room, knocking lightly before stepping inside. She was already seated at her desk, a broad smile lighting up her face as she eagerly gestured for you to come closer.

“Look at this,” she said, practically buzzing with excitement. She slid a sheet of parchment across the desk, her calligraphy significantly neater than it had been before. “It’s getting better, right?”

You picked up the paper, tilting your head as you examined her careful strokes. The improvement was obvious, her letters were more even, her spacing more consistent. You looked back at her and grinned. “It’s amazing, Feyre. I’m so proud of you.”

A pleased blush dusted her cheeks. “Thanks. I actually enjoy it now, learning how to read and write. And not just that, I'm getting better at learning how to use my fae senses, how to listen to my instincts, to my body. It feels… good.”

Your chest swelled with pride. She had come so far from the girl who had once flinched at every single loud sound or every bright light. Now, she was embracing it. Embracing herself.

Before you could say more, a knock sounded at the door. A servant entered, holding out a sealed letter. “A letter from the Spring Court,” they said, before bowing and leaving.

Feyre turned the letter over in her hands, fingers running over the seal. “It’s from Lucien,” she murmured before breaking the seal and making an effort to read the first words. You couldn't contain your smile seeing her focused face. “You read it. It’s about the war, you’ll understand it better.”

You nodded, unfolding the delicate parchment that smelled too much like flowers. Lucien’s handwriting was precise but rushed, as if he’d been careful yet eager to write this.

Things are progressing. One of the warlords — curiously one of Beron’s youngest sons — has been particularly talkative, and I’ve managed to pry a lot of information out of him — he also let slip that Beron has been called to participate in the planning but didn't agree to it (yet). He’s been boasting about Tamlin’s plans to allow Hybern’s forces to use the Spring Court as a staging ground. It’s worse than we thought. Hybern isn’t just moving forces into Spring. They’re planning to use it as a funnel to invade Summer and Autumn next — if Beron doesn't agree. But here’s the interesting part: Tamlin is still keeping secrets from Hybern. He’s hesitant about giving them full access to the wards through the Wall, and I think I can use that. I’ve been planting doubt, making it seem like Hybern might betray him. He’s starting to trust me again, which means I’m getting closer to seeing what else he’s hiding.

Your grip on the letter tightened. Tamlin. That spineless, arrogant coward. Even after everything, he was still helping Hybern. You kept reading.

We’ve also been feeding him false information about the Night Court’s movements. He thinks they have mapped out a move to retrieve you from Night, and he’s been working with Hybern to prepare an extraction plan. But the map he has is the one Azriel altered. When the time comes, they’ll be walking straight into their own ambush. If this works, we’ll cripple their forces before the war even begins.

A sharp smile tugged at your lips. Good. Everything was going according to the plan.You were about to hand the letter back to Feyre when you caught the last few lines.

Tell your cousin I hope she’s doing well. I know this must be difficult for her, but she’s strong. She always has been. And I miss our talks. I miss you. When I come back I'll teach you how to make that tea we were talking about last week. Yours truly, Lucien V.

Your brows lifted slightly as you glanced at Feyre, who was trying very hard to pretend she wasn’t eagerly waiting to hear the contents of the letter.

You cleared your throat, folding the parchment. “The war news is good. Lucien’s getting Tamlin to trust him again, and they’re feeding him false plans to lure Hybern’s forces into a trap.”

Feyre exhaled in relief. “That’s great.”

You hesitated, watching her carefully. “And… Lucien wrote something else. Something personal to you. I'm sorry that I glanced at it for too long.”

Feyre’s face immediately turned red. “Oh?”

“He misses you.” You smirked, handing her the letter. “Wanna talk about it?”

She swallowed, fingers tightening on the parchment as she read his words. Then she sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.

“My feelings for Lucien are… complicated,” she admitted. “I’m not certain about anything, but I think I like him. A lot.” She bit her lip, eyes flicking down to the letter again. “He’s been really sweet. And he's been so patient with me. He never pushes, never expects anything. Never make fun of the words I get wrong or my bad calligraphy. And never complains about how much time it takes me to answer his letters when his comes in less than a few hours. He just… listens. He makes me feel safe.”

Your heart warmed at her confession. “I’m happy for you,” you said softly. Then, with a mock-serious expression, you added, “But if he ever says or does anything to hurt you, I will personally send him to the same hell I’m sending Ianthe and Tamlin to.”

Feyre snorted, shaking her head. “Duly noted. I'll tell him that in the next letter. And for the first time in a long time, you saw hope glimmer in her eyes. And felt it growing in your heart.

Taglist: @rcarbo1 @raisam @itsinherited @romantic1stories @nebarious @mystirica-18 @willowpains @xelladarlingx @lucilia9teen @lifetobeareader @hjgdhghoe @carmenadkins78 @ireadsstuff @oiolabomdia

[sansaorgana]

📻 PLAYLIST — LEADER OF THE PACK

TRACK 1. — HE'S A GOOD GUY (YES, HE IS) BY THE MARVELETTES ⏮ ⏸ ⏭

PAIRING — Benny Cross x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — On the first day of high school you meet a new friend. Your parents say he's from the wrong side of the tracks but you can't be convinced as you develop a crush on him, not knowing yet that it is only the beginning of a much bigger adventure you are going to have with Benny Cross in the next few years.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The gif is NOT a faceclaim – the Reader's looks are not described. I just wanted the vibe of a retro high school and it's not even the correct era lol I have no idea yet how many parts this story will be but I missed writing for Austin's characters and I wanted to finally write down the idea I've had for a while now. Also, this time I decided to lowkey use the playlist format since this sort of music is one of my favourite genres (old r&b, soul, doo wop etc.) 🥰 Of course you don't have to actually listen to those songs! 😅

WARNINGS — era accurate sexism and mindset of characters (I assumed it would be like late 1950s / early 1960s and they are from a small town), Reader and Benny are minors in this part (they are not even a couple, though)

WORD COUNT — 5,470

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

LEADER OF THE PACK (TRACK 1.)

“Have you made any new friends at school?” Your mother asked with a smile when you were chewing on a steak with mashed potatoes. You nearly sighed at her question, trying very hard not to roll your eyes. Why were parents always asking that?

Well, to be fair, you had never had many friends.

There was Rachel whom you had known ever since you two had been toddlers. Rachel was definitely your best friend. Back in the day there had also been Tammy. There had always been the three of you everywhere but for about a year now Tammy had been acting differently. Ever since she had started dating, that is. Her boyfriend Louis was in the football team and he wasn’t even saying hi to you or Rachel. 

“I don’t know if it counts as making a friend but…” you started, nervously fidgeting with the fork in your hand. The person you were about to mention was a boy and you were scared of everyone’s reactions.

Your mother would tease, probably. Father and older brother would begin their interrogation as if it was anything serious.

“Miss Cooper sat me with this one boy,” you finally revealed and you watched your father lowering the newspaper he had been hiding behind until now. He raised an eyebrow at you after exchanging a meaningful look with your older brother Luke.

“Why did she tell you to sit with a boy?” Your mother smiled.

“What boy?” Your father asked, harshly.

“I’m supposed to help him in class. He’s nice but not the brightest, if you get me,” you tried to explain. “He’s not stupid – just slow when it comes to studying,” you quickly added.

“So he’s stupid,” Luke rolled his eyes.

“No!” You defended your new friend immediately.

“Who is he?” Your father repeated the question, irritated already that you had ignored him the first time and that you were fighting with your brother. Women in that household were supposed to be quiet and obedient.

He hadn’t survived the war for his own daughter to act like a brat – that was what your father was often saying. He was using the war to guilt trip you, your mother and Luke whenever he thought it was needed. 

“His name is Benny,” you nodded at your father. “Benjamin Cross,” you added.

Your parents looked at each other with a quiet sigh.

“What is it?” You asked and looked at your brother questioningly but he seemed to be as oblivious as you were why your parents reacted that way.

“I’m sure he is a nice boy…” your mother started softly, “but he is not from a good family.”

“They’re from the wrong side of the tracks,” your father explained. “Doesn’t surprise me that the boy is slow. I’ve never seen his father sober. I think he’s lost every job he has ever had.”

“And his mother?” Luke asked, curious already. One thing about your brother was that he was extremely nosy and an awful gossip.

“What about his mother? I haven’t seen her in ages,” your father looked at your mother.

“I do believe that Mrs. Cross passed away some time ago,” your mother hummed to herself. “Yes! I remember now,” she nodded eagerly. “She died two years ago. Evie told me about it last winter when we were Christmas shopping.”

“What Evie?” Your father asked.

“You know Evie! The one living down the road. Jack’s wife, that accountant.”

“Ah, yeah, yeah, Jack’s wife,” your father picked up the newspaper again. “Either way, Benny Cross is not your new friend,” he decided as he gave you a stern look. You felt your cheeks heating up. “He’s just a boy that Miss Cooper sat you with to help him. That’s it,” he finished and hid himself behind the newspaper again.

“And if he ever bothers you, just tell me!” Luke pointed his finger at you and you nodded nervously, going back to your meal.

Even though your father had decided that Benny Cross was not your friend, it was difficult to remember about that. Perhaps his grades were not good and his clothes were poor but who ever cared about such things? What mattered was that he knew how to make you laugh even though most of the time he was a quiet guy.

In fact, he was making you laugh so much that Miss Cooper angrily separated you two after three weeks of sitting together. She gave you a scolding look and said those words that would make your blood run cold under any other circumstances:

“I am so disappointed in you, (Y/N).”

But now you didn’t really care. You were just angry that she separated you from Benny. You introduced him to Rachel during lunch break but Rachel was not convinced.

“I don’t mind him. And you know that I couldn’t care less about his family!” She gasped when you accused her of being prejudiced. “It’s just… I think he might have a bad influence on you. On the both of us. We shouldn’t hang out with him for too long. But it’s very noble that you want to help him with his grades,” she assured you quickly when she spotted annoyance on your face.

“Why noble?” You asked her. “I didn’t even think of that. I just want to help my friend,” you explained.

“Oh, admit it!” Rachel giggled. “You fancy him.”

“What?!” Your eyes widened and you stopped walking, adjusting the books in your hand. Rachel chuckled and stopped as well, turning around to face you.

“Oh, (Y/N), come on, I have eyes, too. He’s handsome with those baby blue eyes and golden hair. And I’m sure you haven’t missed those muscles under his shirt. If it’s true what they say about his family, I am convinced he is used to physical work,” she covered her mouth to hide another giggle escaping her lips.

Truth to be told, you had never seen Benny Cross as a potential romantic interest… until now. You swallowed thickly at Rachel’s words, realising they were all true – he was a handsome boy with a devilish smile.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” Rachel assured you. “But please, don’t become another Tammy and don’t leave me behind just because you have a crush!”

“I won’t!” You promised her with widened eyes and you grabbed her by her wrist to squeeze it. “I promise.”

Ever since that conversation with Rachel, you began to treat Benny a little differently. When he was making you laugh, you were trying to make your laughter sound more girly as you would throw your head back and fix your hair in a feminine manner. Instead of making silly faces at him, you started to cover your face with your hand to show him how flustered you were becoming. And for the very first time you didn’t spend your pocket money on a new record or a book – no, you spent it on a new pastel pink ribbon for your hair even though you knew that Benny would teasingly pull on it at school.

His hands were often dirty so whenever he pulled on it, he was leaving a small mark on the soft fabric of the ribbon. If it was any other boy, you would get frustrated and angry but you would never get angry at Benny – in fact, you were laying on the bed in the evenings, listening to your dreamy records and brushing the ribbon with your fingertips, tracing the marks left behind by Benny’s dirty fingers.

You never minded the dirty hands – they only meant he was working hard. He revealed to you that he had to do a lot of jobs after school to help his father to earn enough money to get through the month. In the end, instead of getting a thanks, he would often get a beating from his drunk old man. He was never talking kindly about him and you couldn’t blame Benny for that. There was a lot of hatred in your new friend whenever he mentioned his father and those were the moments when you were quite scared but also intrigued – when his pretty eyes filled with sparkles and hatred. He would quickly soften again, though.

It was obvious, though, that he had no time to study after school or do his homework. You were trying to help him but he was too ashamed to invite you over to his place and you were scared of taking you home because your father would not be happy about it. You never said anything about it but it was as if Benny knew anyway – he never proposed to go to your place after school. So, the only time you had to help him study was during the lunch break.

Rachel was sometimes sitting with you two but she was not happy about it. She had you all for herself after school, though, so she was trying to be understanding. When it came to Benny’s friends… Well, he didn’t have them.

Benny was too strong and too mean looking to be pushed around so the kids just left him alone and let him be. However, the boys from the football team – Tammy’s boyfriend included – were often making comments about Benny being stupid, poor or weird. You were always telling him not to listen and he was shrugging his arms, but it was hard to believe that he truly didn’t care about such things. They always had an impact on a person, especially so young.

The school in your small Illinois town was not big so your brother Luke was quickly told that you spend most of your lunch breaks sitting by the same table in the corner of the cafeteria with Benny Cross.

“I would like to ask (Y/N) about something,” he said during dinner on that day and everyone looked at you. You froze, already expecting the worst. You loved your brother because he was your family but you didn’t like him – too often he was trying to act like your father.

“What is it?” Your mother asked, worryingly.

“I was told that Miss Cooper separated (Y/N) and that Cross boy a few weeks ago because they were loud in class. Yet, I still see them spending lunch breaks together,” he revealed and your heart skipped a beat.

“You were loud in class?!” Your father snapped and you swallowed a lump in your throat as your hands began to shake.

“I… I am sorry…” You looked down.

“Don’t be angry at her! I am sure it was that boy’s fault!” Your mother defended you.

“Perhaps. Why does she still spend time with him then?” Your father observed you intensely.

“I… I want to help him,” you explained quietly. “I help him to study, that’s it. He is nice to me and it’s not like he’s stupid, he really is not!” You exclaimed after spotting Luke snorting at your words. “But he doesn’t have time to study after school.”

“Well, that is so noble of you, darling,” your mother caressed your arm but you flinched a little at the word that she used – noble. “We should be glad that our daughter is so helpful and compassionate,” she laid her eyes on your father.

“Being around that boy means trouble,” your father shook his head. “I cannot punish you for having a good heart,” he sighed. “Women tend to be too weak. That is why you have fathers and husbands to show you the right path.”

“And brothers,” Luke nodded but your father did not comment on that.

“I don’t want you to start getting worse grades because you put too much effort into helping somebody else,” your father pointed his finger at you.

“But daddy! I learn as well when I help Benny to study!” You protested.

“While you are repeating the basics with him, you could already study more advanced subjects yourself. Aren’t you always saying that you want to go to college one day?” He furrowed his brows and you shut your mouth. The college argument was always making you feel guilty, too. It was almost as bad as the war one. “I am not saving my hard-earned money for you to go to college only to find out you are wasting your time on a deadbeat Cross boy!”

“He is a lost cause, sweetheart, you must realise that,” your mother was much more gentle when she caressed your cheek but the meaning of her words was the same after all. “I know it’s sad but the truth is he is going to end up like his father and we cannot do anything to stop it. It’s a waste of time to try.”

“Enough,” your father raised his hand. “I don’t want to talk about that boy ever again.”

And just like that the rest of the meal went quietly with your mother occasionally trying to cheer your father up by bringing up some random facts from her boring day full of shopping, cooking and cleaning. 

After dinner, you stayed in the kitchen to help her clean the table and wash the dishes while your father and Luke were free to go and spend that time on whatever they wished.

You were drying the plates with a cloth, biting on your lower lip and waiting for the right time to start a private conversation with your mother.

“He’s nice to me, mommy,” you finally whispered.

“Hm?” She turned her head around to meet your gaze.

“Benny Cross. He is nice to me and he makes me laugh,” you tried to explain in the simplest way possible. “He is my friend now. I can’t just… I can’t just stop hanging around with him. He doesn’t have anyone.”

“He surely has some friends,” your mother furrowed her brows.

“Not at school, no. He mentioned some guys from his street but they don’t go to school anymore,” you explained.

“They’re older?”

“Not much. They just… They dropped out or got expelled,” you lowered your voice and your mother sighed, extending her hand to give you another plate to dry. “Mom! I know what it sounds like but I don’t think he’s a lost cause. I think a push into the right direction could save his life,” you were desperate to make her understand. “We cannot claim that we are good people when we turn our backs on those in need.”

You felt bad for referring to Benny as someone in need and you were sure that his pride would be bruised but you also were aware that it was the only argument that could convince your mother – she wanted to be a good person above anything else. She wanted to be known for her kindness and her nice family as if the whole meaning of her life revolved only around how others perceived her. She wanted to always be soft and feminine – just like your father wanted her to be. And she wanted the exact same from you but you had ambitions that both scared and impressed her. Like the fact you wanted to go to college or you had the courage to stand up for yourself and argue with your father sometimes.

“If it doesn’t interfere with your own studying then I don’t see a reason why you can’t help him,” she sighed as she nodded in a whisper. “However, I don’t think your father should know about it. I’ll try to talk to Luke and make him understand so he doesn’t snitch on you again,” she assured you and your eyes brightened.

“Thank you!” You squealed happily and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Mom?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Can I invite Benny here after school one day? Maybe on Friday? We don’t have many classes so we’d have a few hours before daddy comes back from work and Luke has his baseball practice at that time,” you tried to give her as many reasons as possible for her to agree.

“I don’t know, (Y/N)... I’m not sure if it’s a good idea,” your mother shook her head and went back to washing the dishes. You sighed and didn’t say anything else but you could see that she was intensely thinking about something. “On the other hand…” she started, “...your father is going out with his friends from work for dinner this Friday. He won’t be back until late in the evening.”

“So you agree?” Your eyes widened. “Oh, mom, you would meet him and I’m sure you’re going to see what I see… That he’s a nice boy!”

“Alright… But don’t make me regret that,” she gave you a scolding – but still soft – look.

Benny was trying to play it cool because he always tried to come off as unbothered by anything but you could see that he was nervous. He had one class less than you on that day but he promised to wait for you behind the school building and when you ran up to him with books in your hand, you spotted him throwing a cigarette on the ground before stepping on it with his shoe to put it out.

“Benny!” You gasped at the sight. You had no idea he was smoking. “My mom won’t like it when she smells the cigarette smoke on you!” You pointed out.

“She’ll think it’s my old man’s,” Benny only shrugged his arms and took the books from you to carry them for you. That sweet gesture made you forget in an instant about his awful habit you had just found out about.

You walked down the street to your house and you caught yourself struggling with a very odd mix of feelings – you felt proud walking down the street next to Benny Cross who was holding your books. His jeans were worn out, his blond hair ruffled and his steps heavy – no other boy around here looked or walked like him. And because of that… You felt a little ashamed, too. Just a little. And only because some of your neighbours were looking you up and down after you said good afternoon to them. You just hated the way they were staring.

Lost in such thoughts, you spotted that Benny was looking around uncomfortably. He was watching the houses and the perfectly trimmed lawns, the white picket fences and flowers planted in the gardens.

“Does it look different where you live?” You asked, naively. It was hard to imagine that not every neighbourhood where people lived didn’t look the same.

“You’ve never been there, have you?” Was all Benny asked as he cracked a sad smile with a hint of pity.

“N-no,” you admitted and shook your head, embarrassed of yourself.

“That’s alright, doll. I’m glad you haven’t and I hope you never will,” he nodded firmly.

“It’s here!” Thankfully, you had a reason to change the subject because Benny had nearly walked past your house. You grabbed him by his sleeve and pulled him towards your front door.

You pushed them open and walked inside as he began to fix his hair with his free hand and his face turned a shade paler.

“Mom, we’re home!” You announced and took your shoes off. Benny mirrored you and took his off as well but he seemed to be pretty surprised that it was your custom.

Your mother entered the hallway from the kitchen, wiping her hands in the apron. Her smile was cautious and soft as if she was approaching a wild, stray kitten abandoned by the road.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. (Y/L/N),” Benny straightened his back at the sight of her.

“Good afternoon, Benny. (Y/N)’s been talking a lot about you,” she hesitated but eventually extended her hand towards him and you hissed at her because you didn’t want her to mention such things that you were talking about him and all that. It was embarrassing.

“Mom!” You whined as Benny looked around, trying to find a spot where to put the books he had been carrying for you all the way home. You took them from him with an encouraging smile and he nodded at you before shaking your mom’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Benny said.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Benny. (Y/N) mentioned to me you are going to study, yes? Go to her room now and I’ll call you for dinner when the time comes,” your mother announced and your heart skipped a beat. You had no idea Benny could actually stay for the meal.

“Um… Benny, go upstairs,” you handed him the books again. “My room is on the left,” you added. “Wait for me there,” you said and he nodded.

You followed your mother to the kitchen.

“What is it?” She asked you. “I thought you’d be happy that I invited him.”

“I am! But what about Luke?” You squinted your eyes. You knew that your brother would not approve of that.

“He informed me this morning that he is taking Patsy on a date after practice. He won’t be home until evening,” your mother informed you.

“Patsy?” You chuckled. She was two years older than you – just like your brother. And she was everybody’s dream, so you were told. Beautiful, from a good family, obedient, with good grades. A perfect woman and a wife material.

Something you were scared you would never be.

“Yes, Patsy. I am so happy for him,” your mother grinned widely and you smiled, too, although you didn’t care about your brother enough to be happy for him. In fact, you gritted your teeth that everything in his life seemed to go so perfectly as always. Your father’s golden boy.

Would your life be similar if you had been born a man, too?

Either way, you hugged your mom and ran upstairs to join Benny inside your room. He was standing in the middle of it and looking around in a way that made your cheeks heat up. It was a typical girly room like millions of others but now you somehow felt embarrassed about it.

“It’s a bit childish,” you admitted.

“No, it’s very pretty,” Benny shrugged his arms and blushed when his eyes met yours. “I think it suits you,” he admitted and remained standing there awkwardly.

“Thank you,” You sat on the chair by the desk where he had put your books already and you pointed at your bed to let him know that he could sit on the edge of it. He did that but very carefully as if he was scared of making your sheets dirty.

You gathered the books and moved up to sit next to him so there would be no more distance between you two. You started with doing your homeworks together and you quickly realised your father might have been right about something – Benny would be a distraction. You couldn’t stop staring at his face. At his plump lips that made you think of nothing but kissing, at his beautiful, long eyelashes that were dark even though his hair was golden. Speaking of his hair – it was so fluffy and had different shades  of blond depending on the layers. You were counting all the moles on his cheeks and getting lost in his ocean blue eyes. Whenever your hands brushed each other while trying to turn the page at the same time, you couldn’t help but notice his big hands with long, thin fingers. Those were very pretty hands even though they were rough from all the physical work he was usually doing after school.

He was helping people for money – mowing the lawns, fixing sinks, carrying heavy things, all kinds of stuff. But what he enjoyed the most was fixing cars and motorbikes. He had revealed that to you recently and you thought it was adorable that he had a passion and it could actually be turned into a solid job later in life.

The longer you were explaining things to him, the faster he was understanding them. You were pretty convinced by now that he was not stupid at all.

“Benny?” You batted your eyelashes and he turned his head around to look deep into your eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Can you promise me something?” You dared to ask.

“What is it, doll?” He smirked. He would often call you a doll and perhaps you should have been offended by it but in fact it was causing you to have butterflies in your stomach.

“Promise me that you’re gonna finish high school, alright?” You furrowed your brows.

Benny was visibly surprised by your words. He didn’t get to answer, though, because the door opened widely without knocking and your mother walked inside. You and Benny moved away from each other slightly.

“The dinner is ready,” she announced with a smile. She seemed to be pretty happy with the sight of the open books and notebooks scattered everywhere. You nodded at her and you stood up to follow her downstairs. Benny walked behind you. “How was the studying?” Your mother asked when you were sitting by the table.

“It is going well, ma’am. Your daughter should become a teacher,” Benny smiled at her.

“She might! (Y/N) wants to go to college, has she told you?” Your mother asked him while putting salad and chicken onto his plate. “Will it be enough for you, Benny? Such a strong boy like you must eat a lot,” she chuckled before turning around to put the food on your plate as well.

“It is enough, ma’am. It looks delicious, thank you. I can’t remember when was the last time I had vegetables for dinner,” Benny chuckled nervously while you and your mother exchanged meaningful looks. You both were sorry for him.

“Well, you can eat as much of this salad as you wish. My husband and son are not dining with us this evening,” your mother explained softly before taking her seat and you all began to eat.

“Thank you,” Benny blushed.

The rest of the meal went pretty calm since Benny was a quiet boy most of the time. In fact, it made you feel special that he liked to make you laugh because he was not very fun with others around. He was an outsider towards most but you probably had made him like you because you had treated him kindly and you had tried to help him from the very beginning. You hadn’t judged him and you hadn’t made it feel like an act of charity.

Despite being of a quiet nature, Benny was answering your mother’s questions politely and, oh dear, she asked a lot. Lots of her questions were about Benny’s family and you just knew that she was itching to ask about how Benny's mother had died but thankfully she didn’t actually ask that.

She was in the middle of telling a funny story when all of you froze at the sound of the front door opening. You and your mother looked at each other, scared, and that was when Luke entered the dining room and winced at the sight of Benny.

You sighed with relief at the sight of him because your father would be a much worse possibility but it still did not mean that it was alright. You were nervous and so was your mother. She decided to play it cool.

“Oh, hi, honey!” She greeted her son. “How was the practice? How was your date with Patsy?” She tried to sound cheerful.

“Both went fine,” Luke answered with a clenched jaw as he looked Benny up and down. “What is (Y/N)’s… friend doing here?” He asked rudely and your mother gave him a scolding look.

“Well, that is not a nice way to greet a guest, is it? (Y/N) invited Benny to help him with homework and I wanted him to stay for the meal,” your mother explained.

Luke approached Benny with an extended hand as you watched the interaction with fear. You knew that for men it was some sort of a game of dominance. Benny hesitated for a very long and tense moment, staring at your brother’s hand with contempt. Finally, he stood up and shook it back. You could see his knuckles turning white from the strength he was using to show off how firm his hold could be.

“Nice to meet you,” Luke gave him a fake smile.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Benny nodded and sat back on his chair. “You been on a date with Patsy Carter?” He asked.

“Yes. Do you know her?” If Luke’s eyes could kill, Benny would be dead now.

“Nah, never spoke to ‘er but you know, it’s hard not to know who she is,” Benny winked at him playfully as you chewed on the inside of your cheek. You couldn’t understand why Benny wanted to provoke your brother so much. The situation was bad enough already.

“Are you insinuating something, Cross?” Luke’s fists clenched.

“Lucas!” Your mother tried to calm him down.

“Just sayin’ she’s a nice piece,” Benny commented and you looked away, trying to hide your anger.

You couldn’t believe that Benny said such a disrespectful thing about another girl – a girl your brother dated – in front of your own mother. It made you feel like a fool to ever defend him in front of your family. Perhaps they had been right – he was from the bad side of town and his ways were too different to try to change them.

“Don’t test me, kid,” Luke drawled out. Thankfully, that was all he said before walking out of the room. Your mother looked at you, panicked, before standing up and following her son to talk to him.

“Why have you done that?” You asked, sniffling your tears back when you eventually turned your head around to meet Benny’s gaze. He seemed to be confused why you reacted this way. “You have no idea for how long I have been defending you and…”

“Oh, thank you, doll,” he interrupted you and his voice was full of irony. “The tramp you defended turns out to be a bum? How shocking,” he commented and you spotted that awful sparkle in his eye that would often show up whenever he spoke of his father. But why was his anger aimed at you now?

“I didn’t mean to offend you…” your voice began to shake. “I just thought we were friends. You were nice to me.”

Benny sighed. He tilted his head as he examined your face and you just knew that he was thinking of you as naive.

“‘m sorry,” Benny mumbled out. “Didn’t want to make you sad. I just don’t like bein’ treated like your big brother treated me,” he explained.

“I know,” you calmed down immediately. “I’m sorry about him, too,” you assured him and glanced at the clock on the wall. “My daddy’s going to be home soon. I think it’s time for you to go now,” you told him and you were scared he would get angry again at that but he understood. Benny nodded and left the table. You followed him to walk him out.

“Tell your ma that the food was great, ‘kay? And apologise to her from me,” he asked while putting his shoes back on.

“Yeah, sure, Benny,” you nodded and hugged your own self. You didn’t want to say goodbye yet. “See you tomorrow at school.”

“See you,” Benny winked at you and squeezed your arm. “You’re a nice girl, doll. Thanks for everythin’,” he added before going out and those few words were enough to make your heart swell in your chest.

You watched him walk away with his hands inside the pockets of his jeans. You were sure he would go back to his place on foot while whistling some song he had heard on the radio earlier. That was his way.

When you went back to the dining room, your mother was already cleaning the plates.

“Benny’s just left. He wanted me to tell you that the food was great and he wanted to apologise for–” you started.

“Save it,” she interrupted you and looked up to meet your gaze. She was angry and you were taken aback by that. “It was the last time this boy was here, do you hear me?” She asked, harshly, but she gave you no time to answer. “I managed to beg Lucas to keep it a secret but he is not happy about it and I can’t blame him.”

“But mom, I am sure you could see that Benny is a nice boy. He only was rude when Lucas acted like a–”

“I said, save it,” your mother snapped and you shut your mouth immediately. “Help me with the dishes now, will you? Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

MASTERLIST

[n3ptoonz]

Hi I’m a bit embarrassed to say this lol, that’s why I’m anonymous. Can you please write headcanons for Bi Han, Liu Lang, Geras, Tomas and Raiden with someone who uh, really really likes to suck their cockk 🫣

😳

i sure as hell can anon🫦

Sub-Zero

knowing bi han stubborn ass he's gonna claim it gets in the way whenever you ask more often than not, but as soon as he picks up on your fixation...you can literally do no wrong

most times he takes control, other times the dome is so overwhelmingly good he grunts constantly and gets lightheaded, but don't tell nobody 🤫

you'd be surprised with the amount of praise he gives you. it would even go to point of him noticing differences and similarities between present and past with how skilled you were. leave it up to him to make everything into fighting terms (he doesn't know how to express his emotions give him a moment😹)

Liu Kang

at a loss for words tbh. he knew you loved getting intimate with him but specifically giving him oral caught him off guard. this is only bc he's used to being dominant and making sure your pleasure comes first that he's like woah, you're quite eager there 😲

he wouldn't be one to deny you though. in a way he's still prioritizing your pleasure since you are indeed receiving it from giving him head, and was not one to ever complain!

he's not one to have or show his ego, but damn, the lewd sounds that come from your mouth and the sight of you clearly enjoying yourself does make him feel like the luckiest god there is. to have you all to himself in this portion of his lifetime is the absolute highlight and he'll never forget it

Geras

ik geras isn't some giant monster man but he absolutely has a giant monster co-

you can barely even reach past the middle, and you want to keep doing that? okay, he thinks, by all means do what makes you both happy in the end

secretly worried for your jaws and sometimes your throat. he's gonna keep asking if you're okay and would prob be very confused/concerned if tears started falling from trying to take all of him. you gotta explain it's all part of the process and you enjoy it. he might not ever understand everything about mortals, but he sure loves the pleasure while he learns

Smoke

i 1000% believe that tomas is super sensitive around his dick. like, regular sex is already one thing. but...superb head from you? he MIGHT just die

theoretically speaking you wouldn't be able to pin him down while you suck him off but a girl can dream, let's throw logic out the window real quick. he'd lose his fucking mind and start muttering praises in czech

he does prefer to pleasure you BUT who would he be to say no to you?? he gets bomb head on a regular basis and a hot partner to do it. he wouldn't even have time to ask you for it because you keep telling him you will/you want to. if you really bout it, you'll discover he'd definitely be into getting oral in a secluded public space like the bathroom or training room

Raiden

like i always say, he may come off as a shy cutie (which he is) BUT when that dark side comes out it's over

i feel like he's a switch. so, whenever you ask if you can do a lil vacuum action it always starts the same way, but never ends the same way

it starts with him shyly agreeing letting you do your thing then bam, he either starts pushing your head down more and makes you go at the pace he wants OR you're just too good and make him squirm, buck, whine, and tremble. it's always a gamble but hey, i like these odds, don't you? you two equally go back and forth with pleasuring each other and he even worries he'd get selfish but like who cares mf im tryna hear you 😮‍💨

[kira-fluff]

hi,can you do yn who sleeps with no pants pt3 with kenma and suna please?

sleeping with no pants on | fem!reader x haikyuu!!

a/n: i finally got my new laptop today so it's back to writing ^^

tw: language, NSWF, kenma's is a lil more than that lol (why? idk)

pt. 1 pt. 2

kenma kozume

you liked to sit and watch while kenma gamed, smiling as you heard the curses he said under his breath at a loss, or the smirk at a triumphant win. you laughed to yourself as you sat this time at 3am, recalling how kenma used to wake up early just to play his video games when he was younger. now that he was older, he had the luxury of playing as late as he wanted. the two of you hadn't been dating for very long, still very much in the kiss-hand-holding phase, so you balked in surprise when kenma suddenly said, "hey, are you sleeping here tonight?" while his eyes were still glued to his screen. you choked on your words. this was a big step for you, but not one you didn't want to take. you were just surprised at how causally he had brought the whole topic up. it seemed to shock you too evidently because he then added, "you don't have to though." you shook your head, "no, no, I want to. it's getting late, ken. lets get to bed." normally, kenma would fight tooth and nail to get even one more hour of gaming time like you were his mother, but he also knew it was out of concern that you often asked him to finish for the night. however, this time, kenma felt no need to continue pressing the buttons in rhythm with his console. you decided then and there that you would take the leap, and change in front of him. slowly, you lifted up your shirt. the rustling of fabric caused kenma to turn around in time to see your breasts bounce free from your bra. he whipped his head back in time for you not to see, his ears beet red. "kenma?" you said quietly. "..hmm?" "I-uh--well. so, when I sleep, I can't sleep when I have pants on..." kenma swallowed. "no problem." in all honesty, kenma didn't wear them either. he wore clothes for comfort, not for style, and the same was for sleeping. being able to be free from the confines of clothing was one of his favorite reasons for finally turning to going back to sleep. when you pulled down your shorts, exposing your panties, his eyes pooled with a dark gold. still, he pushed the thoughts away and instead decided it was time for him to head in too. after removing his sweatpants after turning off the light, he heard a little gasp as he slipped into the covers. kenma's bare leg had rubbed against your own. he wasn't wearing pants either? you could scarcely hold yourself together as you searched for things to think about other than the fact that your boyfriend was lying down next to you, pant-less. that morning you awoke in kenma's arms, the warm feeling of his chest against your back. <3

suna rintarou

you and suna ended up sleeping at each other's houses for the night several on several occasions. after watching movie with your best friend since middle school, it was pretty much a given that you didn't care much what the other did. still, you hadn't really reached the gap where you could step in and possibly admit your feelings for him. so, whenever he spent the night or vice versa, you would slide into the bed you both agreed to share (because who really cares?) with your complete pajama set on. you figured you would be going too far if you decided to be comfortable and take off your little shorts. this, of course, made it difficult for you to sleep. you moved around in an effort to get more comfortable, but all that did was rearrange your shorts so they were almost reversed - front in the back, back in the front. you sighed. "why do you keep rolling around like a burrito?" "that makes no sense." you said. "burritos are rolled." he said in the obnoxiously snarky way he speaks when he thinks something is obvious. "why are you awake arguing with me about burritos?" you muttered. "because you woke me up."m "it's just hard for me to fall asleep right now. it's too.. hot in here." "liar. the a/c is on full blast." he said. you sighed again, "well I'm just uncomfortable, ok?" he sat up a little, resting his head on the palm of his hand, his head turned to you. "why?" "it's really stupid and embarrassing." "everything about you is stupid and embarrassing." he smirked. he was rewarded with a flick on his forehead. "shut up, rin." his stare urged you to speak once more. "well," you began, "I can't sleep if my pants or shorts are on." he was quiet for a moment before his voice came out in a rasp, "well then don't wear any." you looked his way, noticing his eyes glowing in the moonlight creeping through the blinds. "but we're...friends." he swallowed thickly. "doesn't mean you can't take your shorts off--" he cut himself off. "it doesn't mean you can't be comfortable. there's covers anyway." you stared at him in apprehension before bringing your hands to your hips below the covers. slowly, you pulled them down, only the sound of the sheets and fabrics ruffling. suna sounded a bit like he was getting hot too because he was panting a bit when you turned to him. you looked at him with a questioning expression. "sorry.." he muttered, "kinda hard to breathe in here with the air quality and stuff." you were well aware the windows were closed and that was probably bullshit, but you decided not to press further. "well, anyway. thanks. goodnight." you smiled meekly, turning to your side. what you weren't aware of was that suna wasn't able to sleep a wink that night, much less when you shoved off the covers while sleeping (I guess you were actually a little bit hot). suna was suffering, truly, as he tried not to stare at the bottom half of you - only panties covering you. the morning couldn't come soon enough for him.

[anniflamma]

have you read (or did you enjoy) madeline miller's song of achilles? your post about the shitty book made me think to ask, cause i've been wanting to get into retelling/modern writing, but don't know where to start lol

So I don’t think I’m the right person to ask whether you should read The Song of Achilles or not. XD

I have read the book… buuut… I kinda didn’t finish it. Thing is, the book is good, no, really! Even though I dropped it, that doesn’t mean it’s a bad book per se, it’s just that I realized it wasn’t really written for me, and I lost interest in continuing.

There are a lot of good things in the book that I makes me genuinely recommend it. Miller has a fantastic way of describing emotions in a poetic, almost abstract manner. She paints scenes and moments beautifully, and I think that’s true the highlight of The Song of Achilles. So my verdict is you should give it a try! If not, then I'll could recommend you The Prince’s Psalm by Eric Shaw Quinn. Simply due to it's one of my favorites.

If you looking for something shorter, then Medusa by Jessie Burton.

Here’s the "nag section" (in case anyone’s curious why I dropped The Song of Achilles):

So the downside? The way Miller writes the queer relationship between Achilles and Patroclus is… very… very… heteronormative. It’s extremely clear that Patroclus is the "woman" and Achilles is the "man" in their dynamic. When they’re intimate, Achilles is the one doing and spurting, while Patroclus experiences "floral feelings" in his nether regions. The book isn’t explicit, but the text often accidentally describes them having straight sex. XD

There were so many moments while reading where I’d pause and think, "Oh, I can tell this is written by a straight woman who really likes the idea of a housewife." That’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just the vibe I got. For comparison, when I read The Prince’s Psalm by Eric Shaw Quinn, I kept thinking, "This is written by a gay man who really loves tall, broad-shouldered, masculine men who make him feel small." It’s oddly similar to each other, Patroclus and David share the same character traits. Both are small insecure men, it’s just that the authors take different approaches to how they depict it.

The reason I dropped The Song of Achilles was that I just wasn’t interested in Patroclus being portrayed as this sweet, insecure, self-hating boy who sits in the tent all day and gets happy when Achilles comes back after a hard earnd work in the battlefield. I expected something more fluid in their dynamic. Don’t get me wrong, insecure protagonists are fine! For example, in The Prince’s Psalm, David is insecure too, but he also resents being seen as fragile by other men around him. The book explores that tension in David and Jonathan’s relationship. David kills Goliath not out of honor or duty, but because he wants to prove Jonathan wrong, even spite him, he did it out of anger. David is insecure, which also makes him envious. He gets angry easily but also quick to forgive. He is an romantic person, who loves the idea of Jonathan proposing to him and being swept up but he also wants to be seen as a "manly" man. He is faithful but when he have the conversation with Jonathan about their bounderies, they come to the conclution together who they can sleep with, no men and only women if you are married to them. David changes and the irony with it is that his change is also a cause why Jonathan died.

For Patroclus, I think he is very flat. He is incesure and he is a good boy. And sadly I really don't remember if there was anything else than that. Most of his reaction is based on Achilles actions. The reason why he is good with fighting is cuz gods are helping him. The reason why Achilles like Patroclus so much is... I don't know really, the text only describes how pretty Achilles is, it very superficial. Patroclus likes Achilles becasue Achilles isnt Patroclus.

Here’s the funny thing…

After all that, I still recommend The Song of Achilles! There's a reason why there are so many retelling books now. I genuinely believe The Prince's Psalm wouldn't have been published if The Song of Achilles hadn't existed. The book is a romanticization, and it was written around 2008 or so. That explains why Miller wrote them like that. I see the heteronormative dynamic between Achilles and Patroclus as simply a product of its time.

[koolades-world]

Hello, I'm looking for some angst.

I would like to order an extra harsh reality of

"The brothers will pick their sister over Mc if given a chance"

And some side dish of "The undertables having to fight for Mc"

Thanksiiee!!

hi!! Sorry I took so long to get to this but I was so looking forward to writing this when I got it! slight mentions at nsfw but nothing is described or really directly talked about. also spoilers for lesson 16 and also also long!! much longer than I anticipated

everything I write turns into Satan pieces somehow lol

Took inspo from Harry Potter, specifically Tom Riddle’s diary in the Chamber of Secrets (don't @ me used to be a huge hp fan)

update: part two is out and can be found here :)

the dance of the haunted (part one)

It all started with a simple trip to the second hand bookstore. Satan always invited Mc, so they were together. He needed a hand carrying back his purchases sometimes and they always went someone to eat afterwards, Satan’s treat as he could never imagine asking Mc to pay.

They bookstore they visited today was a usual for them. It was close enough to walk, but far enough to avoid running into his brothers. Satan knew Mc really enjoyed old cookbooks and worn fantasy books. They also often searched for children’s books to read to local demon children as part of a school club. While he was initially concerned with them coming into contact with a cursed book, he grew more comfortable after seeing their magical ability and that they always carried an enchanted talisman that Solomon gifted them for that purpose.

Mc was over in the nature section, flipping through a book about creatures in the 3rd ring of hell. Satan found himself in the tomes section again. He, as usual, found himself rooting through the very back trying to uncover hidden gems. He was about to pick up a book he thought Mc might like to flip through it, when he froze. Just a sliver of this book was in his vision, but he already felt the magic oozing from it. It's a wonder he didn't sense it sooner. He put the other book in a hurry and pulled out the book from the back.

It was unlabeled, with a faded green cover and a golden ribbon attached to the spine. It marked a page close to the beginning. The magic radiating from it didn't seem bad in any way. It actually seemed quite positive. He was able to place it quickly after he felt the ribbon sticking out the bottom of the book.

This was most certainly a book infused with an angelic blessing at the very least, but how in the world had this ended up in a second hand book store in the Devildom, of all places. He flipped it over, looking for anything to go off of, but found nothing but a cursive golden letter L etched on the bottom right corner. He was a little afraid to open it, giving that it was in the hands of an angel at some point. After thinking it over, if anything happened to him, Mc would help him as soon as they noticed something amiss. Thanks to the pact, it would be almost instantly.

With the thought of Mc, he slowly opened the book. On the first page and on the inside of the front cover was handwriting that seemed oddly familiar. He struggled to read the words on the page at first due to the sense of familiarity. He suddenly got deja vu, as if he had held this book before. He closed his eyes for a moment to stop the world from spinning. When he reopened them, he felt like crying, and yet, he still wasn't sure why. Once he finally read what was written, he understood why.

On the inside cover, it read "Property of Lilith Morningstar" and near the bottom in large writing was a messy scrawl he recognized as Mammon's handwriting. It said "mammon waz here" with a little drawing of himself sticking his tongue out. A heart in a different color of ink enclosed the message and drawing. On the first page was a note seemingly from Lucifer. Satan would recognize his handwriting anywhere. It was a heartfelt message from Lucifer to Lilith, saying that he hoped the gift reached her well, and that he missed and loved her.

He closed the book for a second and suddenly felt faint. He sat on the floor, holding his head in his hands. He thought about what he had just read for a moment. The book that he had somehow found, maybe by chance or fate, belonged to his brother's late sister. It was a gift from Lucifer to Lilith while he was away. He realized that's probably why he felt his emotions raging. The Lucifer in him recognized the book, since he had seemingly picked it out himself to give to his sister. How had this ended up in a second hand bookstore? He theorized maybe it had been made in the Devildom and Lucifer had purchased it during one of his trips. But, angel Lucifer would have never done that. He was disgusted by the mere thought of even having to go down at the time, so the thought of him browsing shops was out of the question. Deciding to come back to that thought later, he decided to quickly flip through it, just to see what it was.

As he reopened the book, new waves of magic hit him. He didn't recognize them, but they felt as familiar as his brothers. He guessed their magic was also somehow within this book. But since it was all angelic magic, everything having to do with this book happened before the fall, before he even existed. Much to his dismay, everything beyond the first page was blank. He closed and opened it a few times, but nothing happened. He guessed it might be locked by magic in some way. The thought of trying to magically pry it open scared him again. He was a demon through and through, and since this was blessed by angels, he had no clue what might happen to him if he tried. He was certain whoever blessed this book did not accommodate for whatever he was, but he thought it to be unwise to test the limits.

"Satan. What are you doing on the floor?" Mc walked up to him, holding a few books in their arms.

"Oh, just looking at book on the bottom shelf. I got tired of crouching." He quickly placed the green book down on top of a stack of his other books.

"I get that. Just wanted to let you know I'm ready to be done when you are. Don't rush for me." They turned to walk away, but Satan stopped them.

"I'm done too. I was finishing up." He moved to get up. Mc turned back around to look at him.

"I made great timing then! Here, I'll carry some of these for you." They grabbed the first few books off his stack. He felt his stomach lurch when they touched the green book. He couldn't help but feel nervous with them handling the book, although he wasn't sure why. He didn't want to say anything about it to them, and again, he didn't know why. For now, maybe it was best he kept this to himself anyways. Mc’s expression didn't change and they continued to pile on the books until the green one was in the middle. There was nothing special about that book to them.

"Thank you." Satan made himself say. He picked up the remaining books and they proceeded to the check out together. Today, an older demon worked the register. She was familiar with the pair and had a soft spot for Mc.

"Is that everything for today?" She asked them as she counted the books. Between the two of them, they had thirteen books. Satan handed the demon the needed amount of grim, and waved them on their way. Satan insisted on carrying the bag of books home, since this time there wasn’t too many.

"Let's stop at a café on our way home. I'm dying for something warm to drink right now." Mc grabbed Satan's hand and pulled him in the direction they wanted to go in. He smiled and allowed himself to be dragged off. While they were enjoying coffee together, he was able to temporally forget about the book he had discovered. All of his thoughts were about Mc for the time being.

When they arrived home together, Mc loudly announced that they were there. Mammon came running to greet them. "Mc! I got somethin' for ya! Ya gotta come with me right now!" He grabbed both of the hands and began to pull them away.

"Thank you for the coffee and books, Satan. Tell me about what you bought at dinner tonight." They looked back at him before looking at Mammon again.

"I will. I'll drop off your books in your room. I had a great time." He lifted a hand at them, as a goodbye.

"Mc!" Mammon began to whine.

"Yes, yes. Let's go now." Mammon took off with Mc in tow, leaving Satan stewing in his thoughts again. He went back to his room with all of the books. The other books he had picked out were no longer interesting compared to the Lilith book. However, he didn't want to mess with it while his brothers were awake. The last thing he wanted was them finding out. While he felt bad keeping it from them, something in him was telling him not to show it to them yet. He had promised Mc he would tell them about the books he picked out. The only one he wanted to read was the one about cats. He could easily talk about it to Mc anyways, without having to worry about the Lilith book crossing his mind.

He read until it was time for dinner. Today, it was Asmo’s turn to cook. He was actually a pretty good cook, probably the best in the house. It always turned out well and was plated gorgeous on top of that. He came to the dinner table with the book he hand been reading, still reading. He took his seat across from Mc, not looking up just yet.

“Hey, is that one of the new books?” Satan looked over his book and saw Mc peering at him.

“Yes, actually. It’s a cat book! Cats are the best.” He happily pointed to the picture of a cat on the front. As they ate, the conversation began to drift away from books, and onto something that Satan thought was irrelevant. He tried to go back to reading, but found himself reading the same lines over and over again. His thoughts had reverted to the little green book sitting in a pile of books on his bed. He has buried it, just in case someone happened to walk in.

As Mc mediated yet another argument between Levi and Mammon, he couldn’t find it in himself to silently seethe and glare at his brothers as he usually did. He blankly stared at his book, picking at his food. He was stuck wondering why the book didn’t say anything. He planned what he would do once he got back to his room. He knew he had a book of protective spells somewhere in the house that he might use to protect himself before attempting to interact with the book more.

“Satan. Is everything alright?” Lucifer placed a hand on his shoulder, catching him off guard. The table was basically empty now, much to his surprise. It was only Beel, Belphie and himself still seated. Beel was still eating and Belphie was passed out next to him.

“Nothing is wrong.” Satan snapped back after a moment.

“Alright. Please don’t forget do the dishes.” Lucifer retraced his hand, and with one final, unreadable look at Satan, left the room. He was unsure about how to feel about Lucifer noticing something was amiss. He snapped his book shut. He wasn’t really reading it in the first place. He put the book down on the kitchen counter and began absentmindedly doing the dishes. He was lost in though about the book currently buried underneath about twenty other books on his bed.

He finished in record time. He grabbed his cat book, figuring Beel could wash his own dish once he was done. He retreated to his room. He was released to find everything just as he left it. He dug up the green book from his pile, placing all the other books on the floor for the time being. He sat at his desk, running his hands over the cover. Under his little desk lamp, it seemed to sparkle in a way that he hasn’t previously noticed. Once he opened it, he was greeted with what he has seen earlier that day. But, to his surprise, there was more beyond that.

Most of the pages in the front of the book curled from usage. At the top of each page, was a note of the date. Below this, was a diary entry of sorts. Sometimes, it was just a to-do list, or a recipe. Others, he found Lilith’s accounts of her day to day life. He decided to start at the beginning, reading the first ever entry. He hoped to gain a little context of what exactly this journal was and how it worked.

Lilith had written on the first page after the note from Lucifer about how he has sent her this journal while on a trip to the Devildom, stating it was made by a human according to the tag on the outside of the journal. He enchanted it himself to only allow her to see the contents of this journal.

Satan paused his reading for a moment. If it has been enchanted to only allow Lilith to read the journal, how was he able to read it just now? He wasn’t close to her. They never knew each other. As he flipped to the next page to hopefully skim it for context of any kind, the words in front of him began to fade. The ink retracted into the page, from the last letter she had written, to the first. He wasn’t sure what he could do to prevent this, so he just quickly read what he could. The next page was something about how Belphie had wanted to take a look at it and something about Beel. Once he got there, the words has begun to erase themselves. He watched helplessly as everything disappeared. Soon, he was just stuck with the plain book he had discovered that afternoon, and the cover no longer shimmered.

He sighed, flipping through it again. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He was about to check out the back cover again when he heard his door being pushed open.

“Satan! Thought I would find you here.” Mc greeted him.

“It’s my room. What did you expect?” He shut the book in a hurry.

“Well, I can just as often find you in the library.” They approached him, touching his face. They outlined his jaw and smoothed his cheeks with their thumbs. He reached for their wrists, touching them with an imploring look.

“What’s the matter?” He petted their hair. They sat down in his lap and placed their head on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but worry that the journal was right in their view now, but he hugged them close nonetheless.

“I just feel lonely.” They sighed and buried their face in his neck.

“Really? After all that time you spent with Mammon?” He laughed a little at their predicament.

“Don’t laugh! It’s not the same as when I’m with you.” They pouted and puffed their cheeks out. He chuckled a little more at the cute face they made at him.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop. What can I do for you, my beloved?” He could get lost in their eyes.

“Give me affection! Just kisses will do.” They pointed to their forehead. Satan smiled at them, amused.

“As you wish.” He began to pepper their face in kisses. As Mc grew more needy, the more he satisfied them. One thing led to another, as they ended up in Satan’s bed. They stayed together for the rest of the night, the journal long forgotten.

Early the next morning, after their night of passion, Satan awoke abruptly. He looked around. He was in his own room, but his clothes were scattered around the room. A shirt was hanging by a thread off a tall pile of books. Mc was asleep next to him, their arms wrapped around him. His lamp light was still on. He reached over as far as he could to reach the off switch. Before he could hit it, he saw the journal. He glanced back at Mc. He didn’t want to wake them, but he felt the urge to open it. He reached out to touch it, and as soon as he did, he noticed it began to shimmer like it had before. He was amazed. He quickly flipped as best as he could to a random page with one hand. He could see lots of writing. He shut it again, taking his hands off of it. It remained shimmery.

He decided not to flip through it now, since he wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind to at the moment. Instead, he noted the time; 4:03 am. Once he woke up, he would check it again to get a rough idea of how long it would stay open for since earlier, he wasn’t sure how long it had been open for. He finally shut the lamp off and let the book flutter closed. He took his mind off the book, and laid back down. He tucked an arm around Mc as best he could without waking them, and drifted back to sleep.

He awoke for the second time that day. Everything was essentially the same as it was earlier except for the time and the noise outside his door. Mc was still asleep next to him, griping him tightly. It was 8:24 am now, and he could hear Lucifer pacing around past his door in the hall. He didn't make any noise. The last thing he wanted was to see his ugly mug first thing in the morning. Because of this, he decided not to leave him room just yet, but he also didn't want to open the journal either. He would, however, check if it was still "open" or readable. He flickered on his little desk lamp again, and was greeted with the shimmery cover. He didn't want to touch it, because he was almost certain he was able to set it off that morning. Once he was able to think clearer, he would revisit that.

Instead, he grabbed the first book he could get his hands on and began to read. He wasn't sure how long he was there, just reading, but eventually he felt Mc begin to stir. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” Satan greeted the bleary eyed person snuggled into his side.

“Good morning love. How long was I asleep?” They yawned, making no move to sit up. Neither of them were dressed at the moment anyways.

“A decent amount. Longer than I did anyways.” He shrugged, placing the book facedown on his desk, over the journal.

“Thanks for not waking me. You wouldn’t guess how many times Mammon or Asmo have woken me up way too early. Granted, it’s usually on accident. Asmo with his skincare and Mammon with… I don’t actually know.” Mc rolled on to their side to look at Satan better, throwing one of their arms over his torso. He felt himself growing shy under their sleepy gaze. He knew he wasn't the only one graced with that privilege, but the way they looked at him made him feel so special. He would give them every star in the sky if they asked.

“That makes me all the more grateful that they don’t dare enter my room. Makes it quite the sanctuary, don’t you think?” Satan chuckled.

“Mmm, yes.” They yawned again.

“What do you want to eat for breakfast, sweetheart? Or is it too soon to think about that?” He asked.

“Give me a few more minutes and then I’ll find an answer for you.” Mc closed their eyes again, potentially going back to sleep. He used that time to reflect. His thoughts grew a little grim as he let them wander. That journal kept finding it's way into his mind. How had he been able to find that? What were the chances of that happening? Maybe it would have made a little more sense if one of his brothers had found the book instead, since part of them seemed to linger between the lines. He was a different story, though. The magic within must had been much more powerful than he anticipated.

Even as he turned his head to the side to look at the book again, he saw the pages glimmer in the light that didn't exist. Something seemed... wrong. He hadn't noticed it before, maybe due to the excitement of simply finding it. The circumstances of which he found it in too was bizarre. As a powerful demon, he should have noticed the angelic energy as soon as he entered the book store. He dwelled on this idea. Perhaps last night's activities had had an affect on it. He coughed a little, covering up his embarrassment from the invisible audience. As he thought more, it really made no sense that he just happened to find it. Had it been planted there for him specifically, or was it the journal itself? Just what did this book know? He did consider himself exceptional, but not nearly as much as his brothers. Their story was far more interesting than his own. He was just the consequence of their actions. Whatever the case with this book, he felt the urge to get to the bottom of it, despite the creeping dread in his gut.

He spent the next few days of his reading time picking though every page of the journal. He was able to learn so much about his brothers' days in the Celestial Realm, far more than they had ever bothered to tell him. Perhaps they thought speaking about it might bother him. Whatever the case, he found it strange to refer to them as angels. Lilith wrote lots about the twins and Asmo. She wrote less about the older brothers but it was clear they were just as important to her. He had know Asmo was the Jewel of the Heavens, but the way Lilith described him made him sound like the most amazing thing the world had ever seen. The more and more he read, the more he saw the similarities between himself and her. He too considered Asmo a trusted confidant, and a close friend of his. He too found himself sneaking off with Belphie for mischievous reasons, or spending time with Beel for his quiet, comforting presence. He began to realize how difficult losing her might have been for them. In the past, he knew it was a sore subject, especially among the youngest, but now he could really feel their pain as Lilith wrote about their daily misadventures. What they missed. Would they exchange him for her if given the chance? He shook this thought off, not liking the implications it might have.

Her innocence was painted clearly for him on each page, yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He checked the book again and again for traces of demonic magic but found nothing. The strangest part was that he couldn't even find his own. There was traces of various angels, most of which he didn't recognize, likely from the far gone past. The journal continued to puzzle him.

As time passed, the entries grew more and more chaotic. From her new lover, to the growing tensions between Lucifer and their father. They grew shorter and less carefree. Even her handwriting differed. She seemed to understand the gravity of what she had done. He knew this is when the Celestial War was about to begin. Her last entry was about her lover, again about how enchanting she found them, and how one day she hoped to spend the rest of her life with him, no matter what. He paused for a moment, realizing this entry was written likely days, or even hours before he was born. After that entry, the pages were blank. There were some pages with stray pen marks, but that's all he was able to uncover. He knew the ending to this story. The silence told it all. He sat for a while, reflecting again about everything he had seen. As he was thinking, words began to appear on the page in front of him, in the same handwriting and ink color as he had seen in the entire journal. It was Lilith's. Satan paused. He could tell the journal held magical properties, but this was not something he expected to happen.

"Hello? Anyone there?" The words appeared suddenly. He continued staring at the page until more words appeared. "You can say something you know. Ink will do." Satan began to look around for a writing utensil at these words. Once he found one, he began to pen a response.

"Hello. Are you Lilith?" He wrote down underneath the previous words. He got his own response quickly.

"Yes, I am! How'd you know that?" Satan paused again, about to write more, but was cut off as Lilith began to write more. "Haha! Just kidding. This is my journal. My name is in it. It would be weird if this wasn't me. Who are you, by the way? I don't think I've ever had a visitor." Right away, Satan thought Lilith reminded him of Asmo. He was probably like this when he was an angel.

He stopped before bringing his pen down to the page again. He was unsure on how to introduce himself. During his visit to the past, he went by Sully, which was the stupidest name in his opinion. But, he also didn't want to lie to her. Would it be wrong to tell her his story, and what happened after the war? "My name is Satan. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too! That's a pretty cool name. Interesting for sure." She wrote.

"I don't want to scare you away, but I want to make this clear as to not deceive you." He wanted to tell her the truth. He felt like she deserved to know. After all, he had always felt like she was supposed to be in his place. She even wrote in green.

"Oh, tell away then. I'm all ears. I won't judge, unless you're about to confess some sort of sin to me!" She wrote, most likely jokingly. That made him a little nervous at first, but he continued with the original plan anyways. Maybe this was his way of healing, somehow. He felt better after getting everything out. He told her almost everything. He omitted the part where Belphie murdered Mc. He didn't want to be the one to tell her, anyways. It felt wrong to tell her that her death had driven him to such an extreme. She stayed mostly silent, chiming in with a few questions and stray blots of ink on the pages near his writing, as if she was resting her pen on the page.

"I hope that wasn't too much to take in at once. Much has happened." Satan was still a nervous. He really hoped she wouldn't hate him. He was just the messenger. After all, without her, he wouldn't even exist.

"I won't lie, it was overwhelming at first. But, I'm happy to hear my brothers are doing well without me. It's comforting to know that they have you and Mc now." Lilith drew a little heart next to her message.

"Glad to hear. Sorry to leave so abruptly, but I agreed to meet Mc for an outing shortly, so I will see myself out." He wasn't lying. He had agreed to meet Mc, but it wasn't for another two hour.

"Alright. Have fun! Talk to you later." With that, everything she had said sunk into the page and left no trace behind.

"Goodbye." His words also disappeared. Just like that, their entire conversation was gone. He shut the book. He was glad she didn't object. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to leave early. He felt a little bad leaving her to stew in the information dump, if she actually existed beyond the book being open. Everything about the book confused him. Looking back at it, maybe he made a rash decision. Maybe he shouldn't have info dumped to her like that.

He decided to forget that for now to enjoy his time with Mc. They had an event to attend, and he had to get ready anyways. Later that night, he came back to the journal in order to study it. He opted not to talk to Lilith just yet. The sick feeling in his stomach had returned. Something was wrong with this journal, very wrong. It made no sense, even after chatting to her. She seemed sweet enough, but that wasn't enough to dispel that gross, nauseating feeling. He just couldn't place his finger on what. He felt as if he was losing his mind checking over and over again, for something, anything. But, he found absolutely nothing.

Eventually he got to the point where he was determining if he should burn it or not. He regretted even talking to her in the first place. He wasn't sure why, but he grew uneasy even having Mc in the same house as the journal. Somehow, it felt as if he was talking to someone else, as in not the Lilith who made the original entries. He placed the journal back on his desk, underneath his latest book finds, leaving to find Mc. He eventually found them by the door, putting their shoes on.

"Hey Satan. Good to see you!" They looked up at him.

"Hi, Mc. Where are you going?" He was relieved they were leaving the house.

"Purgatory Hall. I was invited over to play some games. Sol's idea." They began searching for their jacket. Satan noticed it hidden behind Lucifer's big overcoat. He grabbed it, and helped them put it on, thinking hard. "Aww thank you. You didn't have to do that." They beamed at him.

"I wanted to, it's no trouble." He paused for a moment, then continued. "Hey, do you think it's possible that I could come with you. I don't even have to play these games if that's an issue, I just want to be with you." He would feel even better if he was able to be with them, and get away from that journal for a while.

"Oh, of course! I'm sure they would love to have you. Besides, I've basically always got one of you brothers attached to me, they might find it weird if I showed up without one." Mc laughed. "I thought you were planning to read tonight, since I've been taking up almost all of your nights for the past week. Did something happen?" They seemed concerned, looking into his eyes.

"Thank you. Really, I can put off reading again. All time spent with you is precious. It's hard to be away from you, you should know. You're simply enchanting." He took their hand and spun them into his arms.

"Alright, if you say so! We should get going if we want to be on time. I can let them know if you need a little time to get ready?" Mc giggled, buying his excuse. They might have seen though him, but was glad they chose not to say anything.

"I just need my shoes and coat as well. I wouldn't want to hold you up, anyways." He only let Mc go in favor of getting ready. "You know, I'm honestly surprised you aren't already bringing Mammon or Asmo." He told them.

"Me too, actually. Asmo was busy, and Mammon was too distracted with his car repairs to pay attention to what I was saying earlier. I was almost held back by Belphie too. But, I'm here now and I get to spend this time with you." They stood beside him as he tied his shoes and shrugged on his jacket. As the two of them made their way to Purgatory Hall, Mc held his hand so tightly and gazed at him so tenderly, he was almost convinced they were the only thing in the world.

When they arrived, they had plenty of fun. Solomon had arranged a collection of games to play as a group that were randomly decided by drawing slips of paper. To nobody's surprise, Solomon and Mc ended up winning most of them because they were human games. Satan forgot all about the journal. That is, until, he received a phone call in the middle of one of their games. Mc was draped over him with their arms around his neck, also curious about who might be calling them at a time like this. It was Lucifer.

"I told them we were heading out. What could he need?" Mc reached for the phone but Satan stopped them.

"If the call is for me, it's probably to yell at me or something. I don't want you to be on the receiving end of that." Satan rolled his eyes, and brought the phone to his ear, planning to brush off anything he said. He was really only answering because Simeon was in the room, who would answer it for him.

"Come home. Now. You have explaining to do." Lucifer growled through the phone. At first, Satan wasn't worried. He got ominous calls from his older brother like this all the time.

"What is it?" He sighed. Mc laughed a little, causing him to smile. The others began to chat among themselves while he was on the phone. This was normal.

"You know exactly what this is about. On your desk in your room. Underneath three books. Your keys on the left. The pen you used on the right." Satan froze. The smile left his face. Lucifer always sounded serious, but this was one of the few times he sounded like he was about to rip his throat out. He had found the journal. Mc didn't hear what he said, somehow, but noticed his change in demeanor.

"What's the matter, 'Tan?" Mc brushed some hair off his forehead.

"Nothing, my love. Don't worry about it. It's the usual nonsense." He moved the phone away from his ear for the moment, and then back once he was done speaking.

"Let me speak to Mc. I want them home too. Now." The tone Lucifer used to dangerous. Satan knew that was unwise. He didn't know what his plan was, but he didn't trust him at all.

"No. I will come home, but I'm not bringing Mc. I will not needlessly involve them. This will stay between us." Satan began to grow angry. He couldn't help it. Typical Lucifer, complicating matters.

"If you don't come right now, I'll drag you both back personally." Satan knew he wasn't kidding. None of his threats were empty.

"Fine. Have it your way. We'll be home shortly." Satan hung up before Lucifer could respond. By now, the entire room was staring at him. He looked totally different than he had before. He was tense, his rage obvious.

"Are we leaving? What's the matter? Did something happen?" Mc looked at him, concerned.

"I'm heading home to take care of something, but you're staying here. I promise it's nothing serious." He lied through his teeth. He didn't know why Lucifer wanted Mc there, but he knew it couldn't be good. The journal was bad news, and they were involved in no way.

"Are you sure? Lucifer said he wanted me there, right? You know how good I am at sorting out issues in your family. I really don't mind, if that's the issues." They squeezed him a little. They were so caring. Too caring.

"I'm sure. I won't act out or anything. He's probably mad about chores or something. I wonder if Mammon sold his underwear while it was my turn to do laundry again." Satan smiled. They cracked a small smile back.

"Alright. Keep me updated. I'll be waiting for you." Mc pressed a kiss to his forehead before climbing off of him.

"Simeon, before I go, can I have a quick word?" Simeon, who was comforting Luke, turned at the sound of his name.

"Of course." Simeon stood up, gesturing for Mc to take his seat next to Solomon. Luke was seated on the floor between them. Mc looked worried, but moved regardless. Solomon looked around the room, studying everyone's expressions. Simeon walked with Satan to the entry way. "What's the matter?" He asked, holding out Satan's coat for him.

"I want you to place a blessing on this building. Do not let any demon in under any circumstance. Including me. I don't care what they say. I don't have time to explain, but something is very wrong at the House of Lamentation and I don't want a single one of my brothers near Mc." He shoved his shoes on as he spoke. He hastily put on his jacket and turned to look at Simeon one last time.

"I don't know what could be wrong, but I trust you. Mc is safe in mine and Solomon's hands." Simeon let his hands fall to his sides, opening the door for Satan. He watched as he took off running in the opposite direction of the House of Lamentation. He could only stare and wait for him to be a good distance away, before shutting the door. He went back to the living room to find Mc hugging Luke, Solomon with a hand on Luke's shoulder.

"Solomon." Simeon said the sorcerer's name. He stood up and walked over to him. "Satan didn't tell me what the matter was, but I need you to do a quick check of the house to make sure nobody but us is in here. Satan requested I bless the house to keep his brothers out." The expression on both of their faces was grim.

"Of course." Solomon shut his eyes and waved his hand. Once he reopened them, Simeon knew he had completed the check. "Nobody but the four of us are here."

"Thank you. Normally I would ask Luke to help me perform the blessing, but I would prefer to leave him alone for now. Will you accompany me?" Solomon nodded. Simeon led him away, leaving the room together, leaving Mc and Luke along together on the sofa in the once full room.

"What's wrong, Mc?" Luke asked them. For once, they had no clue how to respond to the boy.

"I'm not sure. Simeon might know more, but for now, we just have to wait. In the meantime, do you wanna play some more of the games?" Mc hoped to take his mind of the ordeal.

"I don't really feel like it, sorry." He sighed, worried. He had always had concerns about Mc living with demons and them seemed to be coming to fruition.

"That's alright. Do you want to watching something maybe? Simeon made cookies that are cooling in the kitchen, right? We can get those." Mc tried again to get him in better spirits.

"Let's wait for Simeon and Solomon to get back. They might be worried if they return and we're gone." Luke admitted.

"Good point. I'll turn on a movie for now. What do you want to watch?" Mc got up, leaving Luke in their spot.

"Anything." He usually had more to say. Mc could tell Luke was very worried.

"Alright." Mc went through the various dvds Solomon had stored away near the tv. After finding one they liked, they put it on. The two of them watched this movie together since there was nothing better to do. Eventually, Simeon and Solomon returned with said cookies. Rather than sit on the free couch, they all sat together. They could all tell Luke was worried. The desserts remained untouched.

"I have a surprise that I think you'll like, Luke." Solomon spoke up. Luke picked up his head. "I was told that Mc could stay the night, so we can have a big sleepover together. Does that sound good?" Luke perked up.

"Oh, good. That sounds great! I don't want to send Mc back to those icky demons. Where are we sleeping?" Luke sounded excited, making the rest of the room smile.

“We can stay in my room.” Solomon watched as the little angel jumped out of the cuddle pile and ran to gather pillows and blankets.

“It’s nice to see him happy again. I honestly think he might be more concerned than me.” Mc sighed, reaching for a cookie.

“If we knew what was wrong, we would tell you. I just know Satan asked me to place a blessing on the house.” Simeon explains.

"I figured. It's fine. We just need to hope for the best..." Mc stares at the cookie, thinking about Satan and what he might be doing right now. They just hoped he was safe.

ty for putting up with me and not putting out anything for so long... and sorry for the cliffhanger lol. really wanted this out but a. not sure how much longer it will take and b. not sure what I want the ending to be yet! lol

part two soon hopefully sorry to anon for taking so long!!!!

[sp4ceboo]

OMFG CHAPTER 2 IS EVERYTHING I HOPED FOR AND MORE!!!!! Can we get a wedding chapter 3 👉👈 or are you not a fan of that

A/N: ANON IM SO GLAD U LIKED IT - tysm for this request, it may be a little short bc im terrible at writing happy things and im also working on another feyd fic, but ask and u shall recieve 😌

A/N pt. 2: well this is awkward. draggng this out a year later bc i forgot all about this. there was meant to be more but idr what it was oops 😅

tw: smutty near the end, marriage (lol), i overuse the four letter 'l' word, both are lovesick which kinda makes them ooc, no beta we die like feyd, complete and utter lack of dialogue or detail bc im a moron, honourable rabban mention but idk how honourable

wc: 1.1k

Yours is a tale that the people of Giedi Prime love.

Their revered na-Baron met his match in the arena, and in a rare moment of mercy, spared her. He found her fiery nature as alluring as her prowess upon the sands, and later, during a reunion shrouded in mystery, he professed his desire to marry her, right then and there. They are mesmerised by the two of you; by the way you alone can withstand the heat of his firey soul, by the way he alone can bear the touch of your once frosty heart.

That is not the whole story, though. They do not know of the night within the storms of Giedi Prime, fraught with tempered emotions. They do not know of the morning after, when you awoke cradled in Feyd's arms, his lips in your hair, speaking of a future that you had never considered as anything more than a fantasy invented for the weak of mind.

When it comes to the matters of the heart, you find you are often wrong - that is why you find yourself standing somewhere you would have never guessed: opposite Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, clothed in a wedding dress.

The satin like fabric accentuates your waist, the leanness of your muscles. It is uncommon for a Harkonnen to marry such a woman. Brides are picked for their purity and ability to produce heirs, not the sweetness of love or strength in a duel, and yet the masses respect you nevertheless - there is something in you that they recognise in themselves; the hardened lines of a warrior, the look in the eyes of one who has been in battle.

The people of Giedi Prime do not search for passion of fondness, but allegiance and loyalty. They find both of those within your relationship with Feyd, and the rest, the love, they allow to remain a mystery to them. Naturally, they find this marriage birthed not by strategic positioning but by emotion strange - uncanny, some mentioned - they do not object; they have seen you fight, nobly so, and that is what matters to them.

Rather bizarrely, the Baron did not object. Maybe because when his nephew informed him of the wedding, he saw in his eyes that there would be no yielding, or perhaps because this is what fate desired. What the Bene Gesserit desired.

It does not bother you that you may be playing into their hands. You chose to say yes when Feyd asked for your hand, his words whispered against your skin on the morning after the storm, and you will be the one sealed to him forever, bound not only by soul but by vows too. This is a choice you claim as your own. They had no hand in the deep, aching love washing over you when you look at the man across from you.

He is clad in sleek, black fabric embroidered with symbols that match your dress. It is not his clothing that enraptures you, though, but the look in his eyes, as if he would burn the world for you - the universe. There is an unbreakable, utter devotion that he regards you with that you know you return.

He is yours, and you are his.

Feyd never takes his eyes off you as he says the vows. When you repeat them to him, you feel them branded into your bones; you know they are true. You will love him until you dying breath. You will love him longer than that.

When he leans in to kiss you, you don't hear the wedding guests cheers or applause. You just feel him against you, his hands gripping your hips and tucking you close to him as he pledges his soul to you with the touch of his mouth on yours. As you pull away, he nips lightly at your lower lip, fire in his eyes.

Fucking hell, you can't wait for the wedding night.

That's the main thought occupying your mind during the banquet. You converse politely with the guests, amused by the wide eyes they give you at some of your replies - you find it entertaining, the way they listen to your tales of opponents you've encountered; these are a civilisation that revel not only in the electrifying bloodlust of a duel, but the art of the fight too. These, daresay, are your people.

Feyd keeps his hand on your thigh the whole night. Occasionally, he'll lean in to kiss your cheek or cover your fingers with his, and it sends a warm jolt through you each time - this man is your husband, this man is yours.

Rabban is quite entertaining, too. At first, he was perturbed by the casual way Feyd's hands glided over your figure, unused to seeing his brother as affected by a person as he was by a fight, but you find him sweet, if a little dim. He is the granite to Feyd's fire: solid, blundering, somewhat boorish, saying what comes to mind without considering the consequence. In this way, he manages to offend a few guests that come to greet you, but you smooth their egos with some well placed words, hiding your smile.

You sense the moment Feyd begins to truly get impatient, exactly halfway through the third dessert course. His jaw clenches, his fingers tightening wonderfully on your thigh, his words to the guests a little blunter. He lasts until the end of the fourth course before abruptly standing up - the guests turn their heads, shocked by his interruption, but he offers them no explanation, just drags you out of the banquet hall as you stifle your laughter.

The two of you make it halfway down the corridor before you realise you're never going to reach the bedroom. Digging your heels into the stone floor, you lead him down one of the more secluded hallways, stopping halfway and pouncing on him, your fingers already working on the buttons of his shirt as he presses you against the wall, his hands skimming up your back before tangling in your hair.

"You are rather impatient, husband," you laugh.

"Why need another course of dessert when my wife is right there, ready to be eaten?"

"Fair - ah - fair point."

Feyd does not bother to remove your dress, instead simply hitching it up around your hips as he lifts you in his strong arms, mouth finding your slick cunt immediately. His strong nose brushes against your clit, and you sigh contentedly, moaning as his fingers curl inside you.

"Louder, my love," he croons. "Let them all hear you scream your husband's name."

[relaxxattack]

you are so very homestuck knowledgeable. when you have the time and should inspiration strike, please tell all your headcanons about oliveblood trolls.

ooo what a great question! for this one i think first we'd need to break down current stereotypes about olivebloods. there's actually not much that we're given about them tbh

according to the homestuck wiki, which is based on info from both the comic and more dubiously canon things like friendsim and hiveswap, the olive caste's two singular traits seem to be "wild animal" and "romance liker". both of these, obviously, are traits pulled from our wonderful main girl nepeta, who was the singular representation of the olive caste for a long time; alongside her dancestors. which is quite cute, who doesn't love nepeta?

the thing is though that i am one of those nitpicky people who likes to say, "well, hey now, nepeta isn't actually representative of her caste at ALL." in fact, none of the beta trolls are. i honestly feel like it should be assumed that just like the beta kids, the beta trolls are weirdos, and not really the 'norm' in their society.

nepeta lives out in the wilderness very specifically away from society in a way that is remarked on as being unusual even for someone of her color; and she does not even understand what role her caste would have given her in normal society. and i mean... considering aradia tavros and sollux are LOWER than nepeta, it doesn't really make sense for them all to have nicer houses than her unless she's unusual in her situation.

^ nepeta is in fact NOT a good representation of olivebloods.

which means... no, i don't think all olive trolls are romance obsessed wilderness girls, actually, sorry, hiveswap friendsim, i have to shelve you from my alternia analysis for now.

luckily, there ARE other olivebloods in the series!

first of all, the other leijons. unfortunately, none of them are really "good" examples either. meulin is from an entirely different planet, and disciple is from an ancient history perhaps even less representative of "normal" life than nepeta is. all we really get from them is stuff we already knew from nepeta-- the wildness, the relationship interest. with an added fact that both meulins seem to be somewhat bookish.

and so who does that bring us to? the final canonical oliveblood.

that's right.

troll will smith.

troll will smith is canonically an oliveblood. not only that, but he's a famous actor, which means he is basically a "model" for society- for what it looks like once you "have it all made". i would imagine this goes even more for alternia, supposedly a very movie-geared society.

the two troll will smith features that canonically exist on alternia are Fresh Prince and Hitch. in both of these films, will smith plays a character that is self-made and clever, a regular guy who is just skilled. it should also be noted that while a "threshecutioner" is a job with a heavy blueblood populous, greenbloods can also be one, and it's common enough that a show about it wasn't cut by the alternian dictatorship.

so therefore, what traits can we pull that all of these olivebloods (and equius lol) display to us?

olive trolls are lower class, but they're capable of working up through their connections

likely due to this, olive trolls are often clever and self made. they're likely quick-witted and sharp

they're good at their jobs! most olive trolls that are seen in the comic are very good with their respective practices (be it drawing, writing, bookkeeping, or melee fighting)

it's possible that olive trolls have a good intuition, and are fairly in touch with their own instincts. this would explain why some of them seem to fare better in the wild or in fights, and also why they are stereotyped as having a natural inclination for relationships. i think this is also a good transition ground between the impressive physical psionics of the castes lower than olive, and the emotional/mental psionics of the highbloods above them.

so, there we go. these are my olive headcanons! they're not comfortably well off or anything, but they're not wild animals either-- they're hard workers and skilled at what they put their minds to. probably usually working a nine to five and doing their best in life hoping to move up with a good quadrant or promotion. at least, in my headcanon anyway- no need to take this as fact!

[mysteryanimator]

Breaking down Castlevania Nocturne Season 01 - Episode 04 "Bedroom scene" (almost) shot by shot!

Previous shot analyses: S02E08 - The Devil is Easy to Cheat / S01E06 - Gulity Men to be Judged / S01 E08 -Breakup

(Word count 6.3k I am so sorry HAHAHA)

I was heavily considering not going through episode 04 mostly due to being in the public eye but I like talking about shows I enjoy, regardless if my writing is shitty or not. By the way, the title says almost go through this shot by shot only because there's a 30-image limit. This scene is LONG so I can't catch everything but I can catch most.

By the way, before we start, a massive huge thank you to the Nocturne people, i don't think they'd read this, but if they do, all the scenes are really well crafted and interweave soooo nicely to their next point of interaction. I would love to know everyone who worked on this section, but if not I do hope they hear my utmost thanks and applause from all the way from Australia.

(Actually, just everyone who worked on Nocturne take a standing ovation from me lol, the show actually changed my life lmao, but I digress)

To introduce people who may be reading my analyses for the first time:

I implore you to rewatch Nocturne after reading this and make your own thoughts because while this is an analysis, it also comes through my own lens. These are just my thoughts and by no means end-all-be-all!

These are just observations based on my special interest and study in the field of in media production and analysis (i haven't been in that field for a while but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things HAHAHA)! Despite all of that, this is for fun, which is why I will be writing a lot more casually, so please don't take this too seriously! This not only helps me out as a student to become aware of how stories are put together and, in turn, how to apply them and make my own, but it also allows me to impart that excitement to you! Shot choices matter, especially when you have only 8 episodes, a deadline, a budget, asset restrictions, and so on. It all has to count. Everything matters.

Passionate creatives care and there is more than "the curtain is blue just because." The times when things slip under the radar and are put there just because are mostly due to executive meddling, budget restrictions, and deadlines.

With that said, this is actually a lot more thicker than previous breakdowns, WHOOPS. So please feel free to read this in chunks, and I will warn you that my grammar is not the best so you might have to bear with me here! As a warning, I will be using the words like sex, genitalia, etc. I only mention the actual acts of sex when presented as a joke.

--

Why am I putting in this last close shot of Tera? It is important because the whole scene beforehand has us mentally prepared for a fight or something a lot more action-like. The walls behind Tera and Olrox's room are REALLY similar, therefore once we see this inn room, we make a split-second assumption we're jumping forward in time with the protagonist. A picture says a thousand words.

Right up until the Olrox and Mizrak scene, our protagonist and antagonists both have very distinct places of associations and visuals, which often give the audience clues about their roles. They're established immediately from episode 01 and don't divert that line, that is until inn room. You can argue the line waivers in the courtyard, but the distinction is made REALLY clear in this episode.

The main cast, aka our protagonists, their places of association are usually amongst nature and people. If they're inside buildings, it is small cramped space, very much lived in and not completely upkept BUT it is what makes them very human. Our antagonists are associated with grand buildings and detailed windows that almost touch the ceiling. Gold trimmings. Vibrant rich colours that could only be afforded by the rich. If not the massive chateau, we have larger-than-life catholic churches, with stone walls higher than the eye can see. Our antagonists are congregations and establishments. Our protagonists are individuals.

I'd love to put some examples but I've used up my image slots, which means I'm making you rewatch (jokingly you don't have to) Nocturne from ep1-ep4 making you really conscious of the backgrounds

We as an audience have already slotted Olrox with with high-class, even though we as an audience know there's more to him. Olrox is designed with visual cues of the antagonists. His clothes literally could be wallpaper for the chateau. Not only that, the way he stands and holds himself very much leans into some of the stereotypes and tropes of the upper class that are often shoved into the media we consume. Then Mizrak, we do not see Mizrak anywhere besides the church, just strictly following the commands of the Abbott. We as an audience already have preconceived notions about religion, especially catholicism in the real world. Also, we have an established view of how Castlevania goes about religious characters from the previous series. Mizrak appears to have no other purpose but to be one of the main antagonist's guards.

This is a subversion.

Subtly this is going to tell us there is so much more with Mizrak and Olrox, and how their values align more with the protagonists rather than the villains and antagonists of the show. However, since they already began as oppositions to Richter and co, they need to earn the trust of the audience first so then they become more likable whenever they do have to earn the trust of Richter and co. This is our first building block. A step towards trust towards us and a step towards trust between Mizrak and Olrox.

(The location of their private conversations is REALLY important because they also tell us a lot about the characters, but I'll save it for the ep 3 breakdown when I get to it)

The sequencing and length of these shots are really important for the first half of the bedroom scene because we have exposition to get through. The scene has to be set out very strong from the start BUT, it also has to ease us in because this is a drastic shift, not only visually with naked characters but also a shift on the audience's expectation of already established characters. This is why we need this window first. We need to ease into this bedroom scene, or else we're going to be way too distracted by what is about to be shown.

Going forward SOME of these will be gifs to help illustrate my point. After all this is an animation! This is really important to show you in motion.

This pan down, oh my god this pan down. Camera pans help to reveal new information off-camera or to showcase a shift in tone/perspective. Suffice it to say THAT IS A LOT OF INFORMATION and a new shift in tone. This long shot is here to help establish our setting more clearly, what characters we're following, and what is happening. What are we establishing here? Mizrak and Olrox had sex in an inn room, that's all this shot is. It doesn't have to be anything fancy, other than the fact Olrox is censoring his own and Mizrak's crotch but that's it. As simple as it is, it is extremely effective. Yet it's so pulled back and obscured by the flower we can't be completely certain which is why we need the midshot of them that follows after, which helps to continually ease us into the scene. It tells us so much with so little. Show, don't tell is not only a powerful tool in visual arts. It leaves the audience to their imagination and I'm pretty sure a lot of us can fill in the gaps (I see you writers, I've seen everything on AO3).

This a midshot of Mizrak blankly staring up at the ceiling. Then they both turn to each other before Mizrak leaves and Olrox watches. In silence.

It's simple.

It's straightforward.

It makes you throw your arms up and go "what the fuck is happening???" It works. We're easing into this scene which is what we need. We're distracted by our own shock. So we've gone from our establishing the bed to establishing in our faces that, yes, it is indeed Olrox and Mizrak and they are both naked. That yes, they had sex and that Mizrak decided to stay for the night. Reasons? No clue and it's not important plot-wise, we just need to wrap our heads around that it is THESE TWO. It needs to be simple.

The lack of dialogue gives us room to breathe and to think. This is why this shot feels and holds on for what feels like a long time, in silence.

It might've changed but last I recall on average, shots will hold for 2-3 seconds. This is due to preventing the audience loose interest because the unchanging visual stimuli (and let's be frank attention spans are shortening, therefore media will change to reflect that). HOWEVER, a shot length heavily depends on the context of the scene and what you're trying to specifically say with a single shot, therefore making it super short OR super long. This one shot is six seconds. It allows for the dramatics to be amped up and it allows us to get through our shock for a bit longer since we're only TWO SHOTS into this scene, and right after this we're jumping straight into exposition and their deeply intricate dynamic. This is out six seconds to scream our heads off in shock and laugh in disbelief before we get hit with Mizrak's existential crisis.

The silence and the simplicity of it all also strengthen their mysterious characterization that has been established in episodes 01-03. We never see how they got here OR the act itself. However, what is really telling of these characters is their lack of body language and facial expressions. From episodes 01-03, Mizrak and Olrox have been seen to be very reserved characters until their fight in the courtyard. Their last scene together was fighting, in a courtyard. Now we're seeing them, post-sex, with neutral expressions and body language? The lack of any answers, the lack of anything dynamic happening from this shot and the last shot makes the audience absolutely learn for an answer. We're now invested in this side plot. What got these two men to be in this vulnerable state? How do we get the answer? We sit, we wait, we watch that vulnerability get earned. Mutual vulnerability that is.

This gets into personal opinion here so feel free to skip, but I really really enjoy how we get absolutely no answer or visuals, which might be a strange take for someone who does of fan-anims and fanart of them coughcough. We as an audience can get through literally two images and understand they had sex. We don't need to be spoon-fed. Media is in my personal opinion is more fun to engage in where we get just enough to know what going on, but we can fill in the blanks ourselves. We can read between the lines. This is adult animation. This is not to say I'm opposed to an explicit scene with them later down the line, I just think this is a very good way to establish the dynamic they are going to have. It has me way more emotionally invested in these characters which I believe is far more important because it tells me we're in it for the long haul and we're going to see a relationship actually develop in real time, both their high points and pitfalls. Also, I personally feel this whole scene is building towards something we have yet to see. I do not believe this is the last time we will see them put in a situation like this due to the whole emotional weight of them being naked, but that's theory territory LOL. I'm so happy to be proven wrong though.

This long shot is slightly tilted up to help to censor genitalia but it is again a REALLY SHOCKING SHOT. I personally don't know any recent Western animated media that has done this, especially of a male couple. Even if there are some animated examples, this is not a very common thing, especially to this extreme.

Now we're actually getting into the meat of their actual discussions, knowledge, if you will.

By the way, the question Olrox is presenting, is already information everyone knows. Actually, a better word is presumed. We saw the abbot in episode 02. Olrox explicitly states it in episode 03, asking "Why is your abbot forging Night Creatures for the Vampire Messiah?" There's technically no reason to say this BUT for this scene, it works because we're still distracted visually. We still need to ease into this, much like how Olrox needs to ease himself into this conversation before getting what he wants truly. Mizrak's opinion.

This midshot of Mizrak's back is so much important then you think.

I can be wrong, but I feel like you're supposed to be half-distracted or get whiplash by Mizrak's back. Frankly, we're supposed to get major whiplash from these two characters naked for a moment. These characters are usually completely covered from the neck down. This also makes the conversation they're having to be put under a way different lens. If they were clothed for this entire scene, the emotional weight would almost be non-existent.

Nakedness/lack of clothes is vulnerability, especially for a knight. Especially for a guarded vampire. I will be talking A LOT about vulnerability, so I hope I don't wear out the word too much.

You can perceive this shot in two ways and I think both work in this scenario. It can showcase even when naked and vulnerable, his unwillingness to open up, unable to fully face his own truths, the truths Olrox lays out for him. Yet, you're also having your back to a vampire, a perceived threat, which is a very vulnerable position to be in. You can't see your opponent.

It shows Mizrak trusts Olrox physically, but not emotionally. Not yet. We're going to watch Olrox earn it and for Mizrak to reciprocate it back throughout the series. Also just in general, sex requires vulnerability, choice AND trust, therefore even the implication of sex, those meanings get slapped down onto these characters. It means that they have the means to trust, be vulnerable, and have a choice with each other physically, but emotionally, they're building up to that.

This medium shot will be the ONLY SHOT we get of Mizrak in his boxers. This is plainly in part of the fact he's hurriedly getting dressed BUT we need to see his hesitation, him slightly lowering his clothes, him actually listening to Olrox.

Olrox is right.

Though Olrox isn't here to converse about other people to Mizrak. He wants his opinion.

Close-up shot of Olrox!

Close-ups are used to make the facial expression of a character the main focus. It gives us clarity on the character's thoughts and feelings on a particular subject, even when lying it can already tell us a lot about a character in the moment. The character themselves are the sole focus of the shot, nothing else. The same goes for objects. This also means when you do the opposite and obscure the face...

(drum roll to the next shot)

This is a great close-up shot to cut to because this has Mizrak fully turn AWAY from Olrox, put on his armor, and paired with the line "I don't know what you're talking about." We're getting visual and audio confirmation that Mizrak does not want to acknowledge his own thoughts, in turn, he will not face Olrox and the audience.

He is actively putting his guard back up as soon as Olrox prods for his opinions. From episodes 01-04, all we have seen him do is be at the church and stand alongside Emmanuel, that's it. He is not a leader, a pillar of the community like the Abbot, he is a follower. A guard dog ( like Drolta Tzentes, though she has way more personal agency than Mizrak). He never voices his own opinion, his own thoughts. To do that would need you have the strength to be

VULNERABLE!

By this point in time, he's not fleshed to the same degree as most of the other characters. Richter gets the episode 01 prologue with Olrox being his main point of trauma. Tera gets her speaker backstory fleshed out along with establishing Drolta and Ezerbet's longstanding history. Annette and Edouard get a really well-established (btw beautifully done too oh my god) flashback as Annette recounts the past. While Maria has no flashbacks, her character gets to have her individual values and attitudes fleshed out due to her screen time and her connections to Richter and Tera.

Mizrak though?

Not much is known about him besides the church. We put this label on him simply due to what the show has given us, but through Olrox we're getting information out of him because clearly Olrox has seen there's more than meets the eye. Especially when Mizrak drops the line "when the world abandons you." Olrox's investment is also now our investment in discovering who Mizrak is.

Mizrak however, does not want to get personal feelings in the way of duty, a common trope in media for knights, soldiers, and religious people. So he shuts him out.

Multiple.

Times.

This shot pans up, moving Olrox from lying down, which is more casual to more structured sitting pose. Specific movement is IMPORTANT to capture, so instead of just cutting to another shot, you move the camera with it. There's a tone shift. We need to see him go from lounging to making a very direct statement. Mizrak is ignoring his question so Olrox has to be more blunt with his statement because he needs him to listen- so the camera and the his body language have to clearly state "I'm not joking or fucking around anymore, just listen."

What he says is absolute truth though, this is exactly what happens in episode 08. "They're revolutionaries, Father. We're here to crush them."

The stark difference here is crazy in this medium shot.

Mizrak. His head is purposely cut off, he's practically clothed, with his chain mail on. He's standing up and his posing is quite stiff with his hands almost balled into fists. You also might be thinking, why is his chest and boxers the only things we see???? It makes him appear so much more clothed up and, therefore a lot more guarded. Cutting off the face means we don't get to see his emotions, he's trying to ignore personal feelings on whether it's right or not.

Olrox on the other hand, is full body, we see his face, naked, and despite his very direct statement in the last shot, he still somewhat casually sitting. Olrox is STILL trying to get Mizrak to be vulnerable and trying to get HIS opinion.

Funnily enough, I've talked about this close up shot before in BOTH episode 06 and episode 08's breakdowns. However, I've never actually discussed this initial way Olrox approaches him.

Olrox again, prods at Mizrak and this time Mizrak does have to sit with that thought. "Do you think he's right?" "Are you sure this path is right?" He's asking if what Mizrak is doing is good. If the horrors committed are justifiable. Both the way their expressions tell us that Mizrak does not think it is, and Olrox KNOWS. This close-up is INTIMATE. We're getting deep into personal matters (well try)

Side profiles not only give an air of drama to a scene, but it usually means there's more to the bigger picture since we're not seeing a person's full face. We're deliberately only seeing one side of the picture.

This is a split-second shot and I've discussed it briefly in another breakdown, but now I can get to discuss it more in-depth now as it's own shot!

This is a top-down shot, putting these characters in a place of vulnerability and weakness. Olrox is put even lower than Mizrak in this shot, he's far smaller and takes up less space in this shot, therefore giving him less presence and less power. Episode 03 had established Olrox was the man (or should I say vampire) in control of the situation, hell, the shot just before this one had Olrox wrapping around Mizrak, again trying to get under his skin. Yet now he's suddenly placed the lowest in the power dynamic.

Not only this, the camera is packed in so tightly and close, it's practically suffocating. We have no visual room to breathe, almost like we're suffocated with the evil that prevails in the world and suffocated with the weight of the question "Are you sure this path is right?". Olrox's eyes are the only aspect we see of his face and Mizrak's eyes are the main focus of this shot.

And they both look horrifically sad. An emotion we have not seen either of these characters make.

This shot does not last long but it shifts the rest of the section completely, even when the moment of concern is gone. It lingers with us when dismissed because it does not match any other scene we've had thus far or what we have known of the characters.

This one specific close-up is very important because it comes back to us in episode 08 and episode 06.

It's the holding from behind and the very concerned look from behind. Mizrak only ends up mirroring ONE of the behaviors. It's the concerned look from behind in episode 06 (timestamp is 19:25). They're put at the same heights, both talking about the evils of the world. Tin foil hat here, Mizrak may end up doing the other behavior, holding from behind, in another season.

The weight of this shot is so heavy that it is treated so differently amongst all of the other shots in this entire interaction. It also holds on for much longer. It holds for 5 seconds. This is important. There are little character moments from Olrox, like how Olrox looks up at him and he holds onto Mizrak as long as he can before has has to let go and watch him walk away. Duty, before desire.

A moment that Olrox has to go through once again for episode 08.

In response to a line. "So we use our heads." Olrox jokingly goes "Or lose them."

This long shot is not only tilted up but it's on the slightest of angles as if to showcase how we're shifting the mood and tone of the scene. We are losing the gentleness and sincerity of the moment, back to the very conveniently placed knee to censor Olrox. We have Mizrak pulling up his pants. Whatever vulnerability they had, it's gone.

I don't think either of them wants to sit in the thought of their existential crisis because not only Mizrak is clearly going through one but Olrox is too. While I'm sure they were sitting with their own thoughts for a long while before meeting each other, it's only forced to be on the forefront and confronted after meeting each other.

So the "lose our heads" line ends up coming back around to where someone actually ends up losing their head in the same episode.

While first, it is very comical because I've seen so many people make the joke of "Olrox gave Mizrak head" (which doesn't help because Olrox smirks at him after passing him the head), it also solidifies Olrox's truths to Mizrak. People will lose their heads under Ezerbet, and there is evidence not even hours after their discussion. Despite the humor, Olrox is deeply concerned.

Olrox is always right. Whenever he makes a statement, he has always been right and has always been proven right. The only thing he hasn't been right about is episode 08 when he says "If you go back, she'll kill you." However, in terms of technicality, Mizrak hasn't gone back to Ezerbet/Sekmet. This will be addressed in season 02 most likely and even then I think Olrox will be proven wrong. Maybe? We shall see LOL.

Which while we're at it:

He eyes Mizrak the ENTIRE time during this very small interaction, and while he eyes him, we get a close-up of the book somewhat revealed before hiding it under his coat- silently communicating to him. This will eventually lead to episode 06. All interactions lead to effecting the next time they meet. I just really like this detail, though that might be a corn plate moment I'm not sure HAHAHA

Ok lets jump back to the bed scene!

So this follows up the "So we use our heads." "Or lose them."

This is said insincerely, so Mizrak jabs back at him with the same insincereity and less seriousness of this scene. Coupled with the fact we have a panning shot of Mizrak pulling his pants up, aka, pulling up his guard. Important note again- his back is STILL FACING HIM. Even with the chainmail fully covering him.

Also, I just really enjoy the animation here, like the way his arm goes from in front of him and straight, and then goes to being pulled back and bent, but that's a side tangent.

Low-angle tilted down shot. It ends up placing Olrox in a lower position of power than Mizrak in this current interaction, coupled with the fact that Mizrak towers over Olrox when he's standing up.

Despite us not seeing much of Mizrak besides his chest- he's fully clothed with his tunic FACING Olrox. While Olrox is STILL naked. Mizrak is shielding himself behind the cross. His faith. Olrox still is trying to delve into Mizrak's vulnerabilities and Mizrak won't give in.

Props to everyone who worked on this shot he just looked really pretty here.

This shot is tilted up and a close-up, an opposite shot to the previous one. It feels daunting, coupled with that line especially. Unlike a tilted-down shots, which make a character appear more vulnerable and weak, a tilted-up shot can make a character feel more in control of the scene. It makes him appear unwavering and solid in his stance Also, this is so specific but we haven't had any solely focused Mizrak shots for a hot moment now. The last time we had it was when he had his back turned to Olrox- now he has all his clothes on and is fully turned towards Olrox. Say it with me !! Mizrak's guard is up !! He's shielding his vulnerability !!

He feels way more emotionally safer to face him guarded up and a lot of his language has very very subtly shifted from when he had clothes on versus off.

Also thank you to everyone who worked on this shot, Olrox is very pretty here too.

Instead of having a tilted-down shot to do a verse version of Mizrak, it's pretty much straight forward close-up shot, which means the equal power dynamic in this conversation has returned. Simply because Olrox begins to prod at Mizrak again with the line "Who pays for it? Will you?"

Oop naked Olrox. However, despite Olrox's ass being very clearly on display, he's not the main focus since his face isn't shown. He's only here to showcase the visual contrast of him being naked to a fully clothed Mizrak. Even his dagger is strapped to his thigh, which only means there's even more layers to his protective bubble he surrounds himself in.

This close-up is important because it's a declaration of how much Mizrak doesn't care in the slightest. His facial performance, aka what we're focused on, doesn't look like he's lying or secretly worried either, he's genuinely disinterested. He just wants to get dressed and leave because Olrox keeps prodding at HIM for his opinions. As disinterested as he is for whatever Olrox has to say, he's disinterested in shedding his opinion.

This midshot is so casual. He is very non-nonchalantly leaning back with a smile and jokes about demons. The camera moves with Olrox. Camera pans normally mean revealing new information visually, as if something is off camera, similar to the bed reveal at the beginning of this whole scene. What Olrox is doing is revealing new information. Also, he is on the very right of the screen then slowly gets pushed a little more towards the center, but still on the right. Having a character placed on the very cusp of a stage makes the visual balance feel really off, therefore as an audience, we feel really off-balance. So couple that with Olrox's humourous attitude with an information dump...

This so interesting because it sprinkles in that Olrox knows a lot about the forge master ability, hell itself, and a lot more we don't get privy to. He knows way more then he lets on.

This ONE LINE gets three different shots. The very casual, humorous sentiment gets interrupted visually with extreme close-ups of Mizrak who is clearly peeved and tense about this. The quick succession of jumping to different images makes us tense up. This is due to the timing suddenly speeding up AND where the camera is placed is so drastically different.

He's reacting to the conversation unlike how he has before.

Now Mizrak's hands are fully covered, the last part of his skin, the last part that Olrox used in an attempt for vulnerability. Mizrak's guard is now unwavering, covered head to toe. He's gone from reserved and quiet to angrily guarding again.

Lol you thought I was done talking about divides and boxes, you are WRONG.

Mizrak is boxing himself into all his preconceived notions of religion. This is the only time he's been aligned inside of the door frame. Mizrak is done with this conversation and he doesn't want to hear anything else.

Also, funnily enough- Olrox takes up the amount of space in this shot as to Mizrak and the door. Compositional it does make it feel more filled up rather than empty, showcasing Olrox is listening, peeved, but he is listening. It also might hark onto the Olrox God connections that are being subtly slid to us, though this feels like a slight stretch. There's a stronger Olrox God parallel I talk about later, so pocket that thought!

I have to skip some of the shots because of the image limitation, but thought this one needed to be addressed!

Not only does this wide shot make us feel really pulled away and disconnected from whatever private conversation they were having. It also makes us feel like after this interaction, whatever same understanding they had, is gone (well not completely gone, it has to be rebuilt again). Mizrak's unrelenting faith in one God is causing a rift, a divide if you will between the both of them. They feel so separated, so distant from each other because Mizrak is still really stubborn.

Then after all is said and done. After Mizrak has the final say. He leaves and Olrox watches. Like episode 08. Again.

Olrox is pushed into a box, which funnyily enough, Olrox tends to be seen in a lot of boxed-up framing to the right of the screen. You can see a visual collection of it here. Whenever he's from the left of the screen boxed up, it's usually turned towards himself like an inner reflection.

Ok, I have to skip some more shots to get to here.

"One God. And you think he can protect you?"

This is major foreshadowing but the one God, that Olrox scoffs about is himself. This close-up solely focuses on how he looks down and watches Mizrak from above. Much like how God is described in scripture.

Psalm 53:2 NIV: God looks down from heaven on all mankind to see if there are any who understand, any who seek God.

Psalm 102:19 NIV: The Lord looked down from his sanctuary on high, from heaven he viewed the earth,

Olrox looking at Mizrak from above as a protector happens numerous times in episode 08.

There are also a ton of bible verses about living under the shadow of God, it's considered a positive thing because God's shadow covers the entire body, therefore a person is fully protected.

Psalms 91:1-2 NIV: Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. 2 I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”

Psalm 36:7 ESV: How precious is your steadfast love, O God! The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings.

(i do realize now all my examples are psalms i hope that's ok to prove a point LOLOL)

Olrox is the sole protector of Mizrak to the point where he even drags him away for his own safety. The shot choice when he says it is a close-up shot of his face and his eye is slightly glowing, making him appear way more supernatural, almost god-like in a way.

It hasn't been confirmed (or denied for that matter) if Olrox's creature form is the Quetzalcoatl (an Aztec deity), but the god parallels are very apparent from the get-go, and a lot of the fandom (aka the audience) who are invested in Castlevania have placed this label onto him not only for the reasons mentioned above BUT also due to his association to Mizrak, who is a man who fights for God. However, this aspect doesn't get fleshed out like their vulnerability because Olrox only goes into this protector role at the very end of the season. After all, that is when he has a change of heart, much like Mizrak. This means this will not be the last time we will see Olrox in this role even after the break-up.

To wrap this up, vulnerability as showcased in episode 04 does appear in episodes 03, 06, and 08! I personally believe though that episode 04 however really hammers you on the head with it because you're able to play around with someone's literal nakedness as a visual metaphor. This episode is supposed to make you really conscious of them and the decisions they decide to make going forward. It is the bridging point between episode 03 and episode 06. It's a stab in the heart when you watch episode 08.

Vulnerability and the ability to open up is a massive thing between these characters and it's only going to get more raw and more human as the series goes on. We see it happen when Olrox is the one to open up first. One thing I noticed from both Castlevania and Castlevania: Nocturne is that love can be the most damning thing or it can save you. The choice, however, is up to you. However, to love is choosing to be vulnerable. By the way, love isn't just romantic it can be very much platonic and familial as seen with practically all the characters, both current and past... Olrox and Mizrak though are just really complicated and messy. Aren't all characters though? Isn't that what makes them human, even if they've lost it centuries ago? HAHAHASBDHADSB

(ok so the paragraphs below is my personal opinion but i think they're a good ending note/side tangent)

If we ever actually get an explicit scene it's going to make a specific commentary on how these characters have developed from season 1 to whatever season they have sex in, especially how they go about sequencing, pacing, and shot choices, especially with Netflix censoring and rating requirements. Limited things you can show, and limited things you're allowed to even imply, so everything has to make sense to what they want to portray AND say. Even simplicity requires a lot of thought. They can do some really cool stuff with it in which vulnerability, both physical and emotional, gets explored between Olrox and Mizrak. Sex is actually a very interesting way to explore a dynamic, I feel it's really underutilized, though it's mostly in part to a societal downpour view on it. With Mizrak and Olrox, two very withdrawn characters, you could say something really interesting about them as individuals and as a pair that you might not be able to do when clothed. The commentary may be as simple or as profound as the creatives behind this want it to be.

A counterpoint though is that you can very easily make a non-explicit scene feel really explicit and sensual without sex or kissing. While yes, we want confirmation through that means, don't get me wrong I love when queer love is straight-up told to us, there's something about telling a story of intimacy between characters that will often engage us first into a story. Phrases like "This is gayer than gay sex" are coined due to the emotional connection a character has, leaving a far more profound impact on an audience. Things like non-explicitly romantic touches like hands, the way the character looks at a person, communication, etc etc, are ways countless media have explored intimacy. Which Mizrak and Olrox already have. Why not build upon a solid foundation?

Whatever the pathway is, it will fit inside the themes of Nocturne and its aspects of revolution, freedom, and choice which is crazy to think "Olrox and Mizrak intimate scene??? meaning-" YES, it can (like sexual freedom, though I don't think it would be explored, it's just cool to think about). All of their scenes serve to strengthen those show's themes since they're a side plot. But I digress! I'm excited to see how they further Mizrak and Olrox's dynamic in a visual manner!

Okay, with that all said, I'm done with episode 04! One more episode to go! This was all for fun and to be silly about a show I really enjoy, but I hope this gets you to rewatch Nocturne! Apply this to other scenes! Enjoy the craft of animation!!