#this just reminds me i need to brush up on lore
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a thought: how do we think the p.i.e team were like in college. who attended who dropped out mid semester who just didnt go at all
#taleblr#personal#i can’t think today what about you guys#this just reminds me i need to brush up on lore
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Honestly the biggest question I have for rats 2 is, if Martyn is going to be in it... like in the main cast again or just in the server in general
Cause spoilers for those who don't know, he LEFT the world of the rats. Like literally. He in a easy way to explain "world hopped" out of there
Guess we'll wait and see till we get some news about it...
#rats smp#rats smp 2#squeaksblr#squeakblr#inthelittlewood#martyn inthelittlewood#martyn itlw#also this just came to me and I am writing it here in the tags as a reminder to anyone else who also wasn't watched it#but watch his pirates smp pov cause I really dropped the ball on watching pirates smp as a whole#so I probably need to watch it to understand the future datastream lore... but you might need to watch it to brush up on the lore
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off my face - yjw
pairing: jungwon x reader genre: soulmate au, mega FLUFF word count: 6.6k summary: in a world where each person has a soulmate mark indicating where they will be touched by their soulmate for the first time, there’s jungwon—the soccer team captain you’d like to be ruined by forever—who has no soulmate mark at all. what does that make you, someone whose mark has changed color because of him? author's note: finally!! here's your most awaited blond jungwon fic that i skipped sleep for<3333 inspired by this amazing prompt my friend sent me.
One touch and you got me stoned. Higher than I've ever known. You call the shots and I follow. Sunrise, but the night still young. No words, but we speak in tongues. If you let me, I might say too much.
You sat near the front row, posture perfect, eyes narrowed as Professor Min’s lecture on ancient mythology took a surprising turn. Today’s topic wasn’t just history—it was soulmate lore, the mysterious marks everyone was born with, and the myths that surrounded them. The professor’s calm, seasoned voice filled the room, but the air buzzed with barely contained excitement. Everyone was alert, even the usual back-row whisperers, captivated by the promise of something rare: a sanctioned discussion about their most private marks.
“These soulmate marks,” Professor Min began, his gaze sweeping the room with a faint smile, “are said to be the final traces of a bond forged in a past life. Legends tell us that in each lifetime, we may be separated from our soulmates, lost to distance or circumstance. But the marks,” he gestured to his own faintly darkened palm, “are said to be the soul’s way of leaving a trail—a reminder.”
A murmur rippled through the room. Everyone had a mark, a small patch of inky darkness, as distinct as fingerprints, mapped out on their bodies. Some had them on their palms or fingertips, waiting for the day a handshake or brush of fingers would light up that mark with color. Others had them in more curious places, whispering of fated touches in the most unlikely moments.
"The legend says," Professor Min continued, "that these marks were painted by one’s soulmate in a past life, a vow made in hopes to meet again, to find each other across time."
You clenched your pen a little tighter, the faint tickle of wonder battling the urge to keep your expression blank and unfeeling. You’d always kept your interest in soulmate marks private. They seemed so full of mystery, and the idea of your soulmate waiting for you somewhere was oddly… reassuring. You glanced down, conscious of the mark behind your knee, hidden like a strange secret that even you could barely understand. What kind of first touch would even reach there? The thought was both amusing and baffling, and you stifled a wry smile.
Around you, other students leaned in to chat, loud enough that their conversations blended into a steady hum. Your classmate Arin nudged her friend, laughing as she displayed the faint mark on her palm. “I’ve been dying to know who’ll shake my hand one day,” she whispered excitedly, her eyes glimmering with hope.
But your gaze drifted just beyond Arin, landing instead on a familiar figure lounging in the middle row with his legs stretched out, looking every bit like he was born to disrupt things without lifting a finger. Jungwon. Handsome in a way that seemed almost unfair, with striking, dark eyes framed by lashes that cast subtle shadows on his cheeks, and hair the color of midnight that fell in soft, tousled waves. He had this effortless, magnetic presence that drew people toward him, like he knew he didn’t need to try.
As captain of the soccer team and one of the most well-known faces on campus, Jungwon somehow managed to look both sharp and relaxed, as if the attention his looks or reputation brought him meant nothing. You’d been crushing on him since last year, an avid fan always present at his games, cheering him on like a lovesick fool. Whenever he scored a goal, you felt your heart leap, and you couldn’t help but unleash your inner fangirl, your excitement spilling over as you screamed his name. Right now, he seemed half-listening to his friends, a hint of a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back, eyes drifting up to the ceiling before refocusing on his friends. It was that easygoing confidence that made him impossible not to notice—and, for you, impossible not to think about.
It was a boy from his friend group, Jay, who interrupted the class chatter by slapping a hand down on the table and teasing, “Come on, Won. You don’t have a soulmate mark, my foot. No one gets off that easy.” The comment was light-hearted but loaded, and more than a few students turned to look.
To your surprise, Jungwon didn’t react with one of his usual witty comebacks or careless shrugs. Instead, he just rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of something almost vulnerable flashing across his face. “No, really,” he insisted, almost apologetically. “I don’t have one. I checked a million times as a kid.”
Your pen paused mid-note, and a slight, irrational disappointment prickled in your chest. It was hard to believe, especially about someone like Jungwon, whose very presence seemed destined to leave a mark on others. Soulmate marks might be rare, but someone like him not having one? It felt impossible, like a missing piece that no one noticed until it was too late.
For a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe he just hadn’t found it yet. After all, some people only discovered their mark when it finally turned to color. Sometimes it wasn’t a visible spot on the skin but something far subtler—a shadow in the hue of their lips that would only brighten after a first kiss, or a darkness lingering in an eye, invisible until the gentle touch of someone wiping away their tears brought it to life. The thought sent a strange warmth to your cheeks as you glanced back toward him, wondering if Jungwon’s missing mark was just waiting for the right person to unlock it.
Still, he looked surprisingly honest, a faint hint of sadness clouding his otherwise bright gaze. For someone so magnetic, it was as if he was caught drifting in space, without any tether connecting him to anyone at all.
���Alright, alright,” Jay relented, raising his hands in surrender but laughing all the same. “Guess someone’s too cool to be fated to anyone, huh?”
The professor’s voice cut back in, and you forced yourself to refocus, though your mind lingered on Jungwon’s quiet expression and the flicker of something in his eyes, something both resigned and deeply private. Could he really be alone in a world where everyone else was bound to someone?
“Imagine having your mark on your knuckles,” Arin whispered beside you with a grin, oblivious to the moment that had just passed. “You’d probably knock your soulmate out before you even realized they were ‘the one’!”
Another round of laughter scattered through the room, like a shared inside joke. The air felt charged, as if everyone were suddenly curious about each other’s marks, glancing around with new eyes. You let out a small sigh, tapping your pen against your notebook with a faint smile. As much as you tried to keep up the class president, model-student act, the idea of soulmates fascinated you in a way you’d never quite admit.
When the bell finally rang, the room filled with that familiar end-of-class chaos. You started packing up, keeping your head down—until you noticed Jungwon slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking effortlessly put-together, as usual. He laughed at something his friend said, his expression relaxed, his dark eyes flickering with amusement. But you couldn’t help catching the faintest flicker of something else in his gaze as he glanced at his friends—like a momentary, unguarded look that felt… wistful?
Okay, maybe that was just you being overly imaginative.
You let out a little huff as you slung your own bag over your shoulder, shaking off the strange pity you’d felt moments before. So what if Jungwon didn’t have a mark? You barely even knew him. Well, you kind of knew him, but from a distance—and with way more daydreams than you’d like to admit. Still, it was silly to wonder about him, right? With your head full of these thoughts, you walked out into the hallway, lost in a world where maybe, just maybe, he was wondering about you, too.
And as you brushed past a group of friends, laughing and shoving each other, your hand slipped over the back of your knee, where your own mark was hidden—quiet, waiting, and as mysterious as ever.
The sky was an endless blue, stretching wide over the school field as your class spilled out onto the grass for PE. With the teacher conveniently on vacation, today’s instructions were simple: enjoy the free time. Most of your classmates took to the field, breaking off into little clusters for a lazy game of soccer, light stretches, or simple gossip sessions by the bleachers.
As class president, you took it upon yourself to ensure no one went too far or caused trouble. Your duty, as you saw it, was to survey your classmates from a slight distance, keeping an eye out with the calm, serious gaze you’d carefully perfected. Yet even from the sidelines, your eyes found themselves drifting toward a familiar figure on the field, drawn to him like magnets.
Jungwon was at the center of the field with his friends, casual and relaxed, but his every move carried an elegance that made your pulse skip. He was laughing at something his friend said, his eyes crinkling as he kicked the soccer ball back and forth, the glint of a confident smirk tugging at his lips. His ease on the field was mesmerizing, a mixture of strength and grace that made it hard to look away.
You reminded yourself to focus, scanning the field to check on the other groups. But before you could pull your attention back entirely, a voice called out, and you saw Jungwon pivot to chase the soccer ball—only for it to ricochet off his foot, headed directly toward you with alarming speed.
In the split second it took you to react, you felt a sharp thud against the back of your knees. The impact sent you stumbling forward, knees buckling beneath you as you tumbled to the ground. Pain flared up where the ball had struck, but it was drowned out by the shock of it all.
“Oh no—are you okay?” Jungwon’s voice was breathless with concern, his steps hurried as he reached you. You barely had a chance to process his arrival before he knelt beside you, face flushed and clearly panicked. His hand hovered awkwardly as if afraid to touch you, his usual calm replaced with something far more vulnerable.
“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to— Are you hurt?” he stammered, his voice unusually soft. He reached out gently, his hands carefully brushing against your arm as he tried to help you up. “Can you stand?”
Your mind struggled to catch up to the moment, and it took everything you had to keep your stoic demeanor intact. Jungwon was close, closer than he’d ever been, and the intensity of his worried gaze was unexpectedly disarming. Even as pain pulsed through your knee, you couldn’t help but stare, captivated by how intensely he focused on you, as if everything else in the world had fallen away.
“I’m fine, really,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. But as soon as you tried to stand, pain shot up your leg.
Jungwon’s expression shifted to one of determination, and before you could protest, he slid one arm under your knees and lifted you up, his other arm around your shoulders. The world tilted as he held you in a firm, steady grip, his face barely inches from yours. “We’re getting you to the nurse. No arguments.”
You blinked, momentarily stunned by his closeness, by the warmth radiating from him. “Oh—okay.” The words left your mouth almost on instinct, your brain still catching up with the fact that Jungwon was carrying you, his focus set entirely on you. His hands brushed your arm as he adjusted his grip, and you felt a strange warmth bloom under your skin, something unfamiliar and electric.
The walk to the nurse’s office was quiet, but you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze flickered to you, the gentleness in his expression as he murmured, “Sorry again. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt the class president.”
Your lips parted, searching for something to say, but the way he looked at you—soft, maybe even a bit shy—left you wordless. All you could do was nod, your heart pounding louder with each step as you held onto the feeling of his arms around you, wondering if he could hear it too.
It wasn’t until you glanced down that you noticed it—a faint shift of color beneath your knee where the ball had struck. The mark, once hidden and dark, now radiated a subtle but unmistakable bright yellow hue, soft and warm against your skin.
You froze, eyes wide, as the realization settled in. Jungwon was still mumbling apologies, unaware of the discovery you’d just made. Only he could have caused the mark to change; he was the only one who had touched that spot. The idea left you breathless, your mind scrambling to make sense of it all.
In the clinic, the nurse examined your knee with a quick, professional assessment. “You’ll be fine,” she declared, sending you off with an ice pack and a faint smile. But your thoughts were still racing, tangled up in the startling realization that Jungwon might actually be your soulmate.
The whole walk back to class, you replayed the moment in your mind, trying to make sense of it. Maybe it was a coincidence. Perhaps someone had brushed the back of your knee at some other time, and you simply hadn’t noticed. But deep down, you knew the truth—the mark had only changed when Jungwon touched you.
And when you returned to class, he was there, hovering near the door with a worried frown. He looked up as you approached, eyes bright with relief.
“Are you okay?” he asked, a slight smile breaking through the concern etched into his features. “I was worried about you.”
Your heart skipped as you nodded, doing your best to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken up, that’s all.” You felt the weight of the new secret pressing down on you, but you forced yourself to smile.
Jungwon’s shoulders relaxed, and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in that effortlessly charming way of his. “I’m glad. I’ll be more careful with my aim next time.”
You smiled back, feeling the weight of the mark’s new color, of the quiet truth only you knew. As Jungwon returned to his seat, your gaze drifted to the back of your knee, where the mark lay hidden under the fabric of your clothes, now touched by color—by him.
In the days following the incident on the field, the world seemed to shift around you, humming with an energy you couldn’t quite shake. The back of your knee, where Jungwon’s touch had changed your soulmate mark to a soft, distinct yellow color, was a constant reminder of the possibility that your crush—Jungwon, the ever-handsome and kind soccer captain—might be something even more significant than you’d ever dared to imagine.
“How’s your knee?” he asked, his voice warm and tinged with that familiar gentleness that made your heart stutter.
“Oh, it’s fine, really!” You waved it off, attempting to tuck your leg further under your desk, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint new color to the mark that still lingered behind your knee.
Jungwon didn’t seem to buy it. “Are you sure?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned down, intent on seeing for himself. Before he could get a closer look, you tugged your skirt down a little farther, hiding the mark as best as you could.
“I’m sure, really,” you insisted, trying to keep your tone casual. “It’s just a little sore, nothing to worry about.”
For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you, unreadable. Then he nodded, standing up with a quiet, sheepish smile. “Alright. I’ll trust you, but only if you promise to let me know if it starts hurting again.”
You managed a nod, clutching your books a little tighter to keep your hands steady. “I promise,” you said, hoping he didn’t notice the flicker of nerves in your eyes.
Your third shared class of the week was English, and just as the teacher assigned the day’s group work, the class began to shift into pairs. Coincidentally (or so you told yourself), the seating arrangement placed Jungwon near you that day.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft as he approached. He offered you one of his signature, heart-stopping smiles. “Mind if we pair up? I mean…if you’re okay with it.”
With an effort to keep your expression neutral, you nodded. “Sure,” you replied, your voice steady even though your heart was anything but.
Settling at a table near the window, you both pulled out your notebooks. The task was straightforward—analyzing a poem about soulmates. You caught a breath at the irony, and Jungwon, seemingly unfazed, began reading the passage aloud. His voice, low and calm, wove through the words as you listened, though your mind kept wandering to his every movement, the way his eyes flickered thoughtfully over the page, how his fingers held the pencil lightly but with intention.
“What do you think?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.
You cleared your throat, willing your focus back to the assignment. “I think…well, it’s romantic. But it’s also kind of tragic, right? There’s always this sense of waiting—like, what if they don’t meet?”
Jungwon’s gaze flickered up, lingering on your face a little longer than necessary. “Yeah, that’s true,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful. “The idea that you’re waiting your whole life for just one person…it’s a lot of pressure.”
He paused, eyes settling on you, as if searching for something beneath the calm exterior you held so tightly. “Do you… believe in it? Soulmates, I mean?”
Caught off guard, you looked down, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of your notebook. You thought of your parents, of their own lovely story about finding each other through their marks, and how you’d grown up with those tales of destiny. And now, here you were, sitting with the very boy who might be your own fated match.
“I think,” you began slowly, “that I want to believe in it. My parents…they have one of those classic stories. It’s hard not to believe in soulmates when you’ve heard stories like that all your life.”
He nodded, listening intently. “I get that. I guess…sometimes I wonder what it would be like. But it’s hard to picture when you don’t…you know, have any marks yourself.”
The quiet sadness in his tone took you by surprise. You’d never considered what it might be like to go through life without a soulmate mark, to feel like something intrinsic was missing, a feeling that destiny had passed you by. Suddenly, your thoughts flickered back to the legends the elders told—how markless people were said to carry the weight of unrequited love from a past life, doomed to wander without a soulmate to mark them in this one. The idea hung heavy in the air, mingling with your sympathy for him.
“Maybe it doesn’t matter, then,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “Maybe people without marks find their person too, in other ways.” You couldn’t help but think that perhaps Jungwon was one of those souls, burdened by a love that never came to fruition.
The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. Jungwon seemed lost in thought, his gaze drifting out the window as he considered your words. And just then, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, knowing that even if he was unaware of it, you shared a connection that went beyond what either of you could see.
“Maybe,” he said finally, and then he flashed you a lopsided grin. “Well, even if soulmates are real, maybe it’s a good thing I’m mark-free. I don’t think I’d want someone to find out I was their soulmate because I hit them with a soccer ball.”
His laughter rang out, and you couldn’t help but join him, but beneath the mirth, your heart clenched. You wanted to tell him everything—to reveal the secret that could bridge the chasm between you. But as the words formed on your lips, fear gripped you. What if you were wrong? What if he truly didn’t have a soulmate mark, and this moment of connection was just a fleeting illusion?
So you swallowed hard, plastering a smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, let’s just keep that between us, then,” you replied, hoping to mask the anxiety swirling inside you.
Inside, the truth weighed heavy, a secret that felt more like a burden than a bond. Keeping it hidden seemed safer, easier—even if it left you feeling like a ghost, drifting alongside him but never truly reaching out. The thought of him being one of those markless souls—the ones who carried the pain of a love never realized—made you ache. You didn’t want him to feel that emptiness, and yet, here you were, hiding a truth that might shatter the fragile connection you shared.
Perhaps it was better this way. Better to hold onto your heartache in silence than risk shattering the bond you had built, no matter how tenuous it felt. As you returned to the assignment, the bittersweet taste of longing lingered on your tongue, mixing with the thrill of possibility, leaving you torn between the hope of what could be and the fear of what might never come to pass.
Finally, during your biology class, your teacher assigned a laboratory cleaning rotation. By the luck of the draw—or maybe a twist of fate—you found yourself paired with Jungwon. It was supposed to be a simple task, but as the two of you gathered supplies and began tidying up the classroom after hours, you felt the weight of every quiet moment.
Jungwon appeared beside you as you straightened a stack of textbooks, arms full of markers and erasers. His casual, laid-back attitude only heightened the quiet thrill that being near him sparked in you. As he handed you an eraser, your fingers brushed slightly, and you pulled back quickly, heart racing.
"Are you always this… serious?" Jungwon teased, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I mean, you don’t have to look like we’re cleaning the whole school."
You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “It’s just how I work. I take tasks seriously.”
He nodded, still smiling. “You’re impressive, you know. It’s like…you’re always so composed, like nothing rattles you.”
Caught off guard by his observation, you froze momentarily, not sure how to respond. Behind your serious exterior, you were anything but composed—especially around him. Before you could answer, he turned away to tidy the bookshelves, leaving you wondering if he’d picked up on the effect he had on you.
After a while, Jungwon returned to the task at hand, dusting off a few of the windowsills. It was quiet for a few minutes, the sounds of your combined effort filling the room. You both worked in sync, a silent rhythm that had developed without either of you realizing it. And then, with an abruptness that caught you off guard, he spoke again.
“Hey,” he said, hesitating. “I know this might be a weird question, but… where’s your soulmate mark?”
The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications you weren’t ready to unravel. Your heart thudded as you carefully set down the books you’d been holding, gathering your thoughts.
You felt a flush creep up your cheeks. "Um, it's… it's on my knee," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy of the moment made you shy, and you instinctively shifted your weight, the hem of your skirt falling to cover your knee even more.
Jungwon raised an eyebrow, curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Oh? Is it… already in color?”
You hesitated for a brief moment, weighing your words. “Uh, yeah,” you replied, biting your lip. “It changed a while ago. But it’s not a big deal.” You left out the part about him possibly being your soulmate, feeling the weight of that truth settle heavily in the air between you.
His expression shifted slightly, disappointment flashing across his features before he masked it with a casual smile. “That’s cool,” he said, his voice a bit quieter now. “I guess… it must be nice to have that certainty.”
“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep the mood light despite the sudden heaviness in your chest. “I mean, it’s comforting, I suppose.”
But beneath your words, a sense of longing stirred. You noticed how his gaze faltered for a moment, and it struck you then how much he had hoped for something different. He had seemed eager, maybe even hopeful, and the realization stung a little.
Jungwon cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over you both. “So, um… did you see the last soccer game?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I think we really need to work on our defense.”
His attempt at lightheartedness felt slightly forced, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Still, it was nice to see him trying to shake off the heaviness from moments before.
“Yeah, I caught a bit of it,” you replied, grateful for the shift in focus. “You guys played well, though a couple of those goals were pretty close calls.”
He chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Yeah, I think I almost gave our coach a heart attack with that last-minute save,” he said, grinning. It was an infectious smile, and you found yourself smiling back despite the weight still resting in the back of your mind.
The annual school festival arrived faster than expected, and the campus buzzed with activity and excitement. Classrooms were transformed into themed booths, hallways were draped with handmade decorations, and students wore colorful festival shirts and badges, their faces bright with paint and laughter. You found yourself stationed at the face-painting booth, brush in hand, ready to tackle the endless line of eager students.
You’d always enjoyed events like these—participating in the festival offered you a rare chance to relax and feel connected to your classmates outside of the usual seriousness you maintained as class president. Here, you were just another student, painting stars, hearts, and stripes on familiar faces.
“Hey, what’s up? Need a painter?” your friend Taeyoung called out to the next group approaching your booth. You followed his gaze and felt your heart skip when you recognized Jungwon and his friends heading your way, laughing and jostling each other. He wore a loose festival shirt with sleeves rolled up, a casual look that somehow made him even more handsome. You quickly glanced down, suddenly hyper-aware of your paintbrushes and the paper towels you clutched a little too tightly.
The booth was busy, and with most of your fellow painters occupied, it didn’t take long for Taeyoung to pair Jungwon with you. “Hey, Y/N, looks like you’ve got a VIP customer! Captain Jungwon wants to be a canvas today,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he nudged Jungwon playfully.
Jungwon chuckled, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—an eagerness mixed with a hint of shyness. “Yeah, I guess I’m in your hands now,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “No pressure, right?”
You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as your heart raced. “Uh, right! No pressure at all,” you replied, your voice a little too bright. “What do you have in mind?”
You forced yourself to meet Jungwon’s eyes, fighting back the nervous excitement bubbling in your chest. “So… what would you like?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
Jungwon’s usual confident smile softened a little, and he seemed slightly hesitant, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture that made your stomach flutter. “Maybe a couple of stars on my cheeks? And… maybe a small cat on my forehead?”
You stifled a laugh at his request, realizing that behind his composed demeanor, he had a playful side you hadn’t seen before. “A star and a cat. Got it,” you whispered, dipping your brush into white paint. You reached out carefully to steady his face, tilting it slightly toward the light. Your fingers lightly touched his cheek, and you couldn’t ignore the spark that jolted through you at the contact.
Jungwon closed his eyes briefly, letting out a small breath. You tried to ignore the slight flush you felt creeping up your neck, focusing on drawing a perfect star on his left cheek. You painted in silence, but every so often, he’d open his eyes and glance at you, making your heart race each time.
With one cheek finished, you moved to the other side. He leaned in closer, giving you the perfect angle. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the sounds of the bustling festival fading into a distant hum. You were hyper-aware of everything—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from him, and how your fingers gently brushed his skin. When you finished with the stars, you pulled back slightly to look at your work, meeting his gaze as you did.
“They look good,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.
You swallowed, breaking eye contact to reach for a new brush and dip it in black paint. “Now for the cat,” you said, trying to stay calm. “Hold still.”
You carefully moved to part his hair at the center of his forehead. As your fingers brushed through his bangs, you froze, your eyes widening as you saw something strange—a small patch of his dark hair was shifting, lightening to a soft honey-blonde under your touch.
“Um… Jungwon,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you stared at the transformed lock of hair falling against his forehead. “Your hair…”
“What about it?” He turned to you with a hint of confusion, glancing up as if trying to catch a glimpse of the change. “Did I mess it up?”
You shook your head, the words tangling in your throat as disbelief washed over you. “It’s… it’s changing color.”
He blinked, clearly caught off guard, then brushed his fingers through the area you’d touched. His movements stilled, the warmth in his expression fading, replaced by something deeper—something unreadable. The air thickened around you, a heavy silence filled with unspoken questions.
“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to decode the truth hidden beneath your surprise.
You nodded slowly, your heart racing. “Yeah, I… I thought it was just the paint at first, but… it’s definitely not.”
The realization hung in the air, electric and palpable, igniting a spark of tension that sent shivers down your spine. Jungwon’s fingers gently traced the newly lightened strands of hair, his expression a mix of wonder and trepidation. You could feel your pulse quicken, an exhilarating rush flooding through you as you grasped the meaning behind this strange phenomenon.
Time seemed to stretch in that moment, each heartbeat echoing like a drum in your chest. Here he was, the boy you’d admired from afar, unexpectedly transformed before your eyes. Jungwon—the one who had unwittingly painted your world in vibrant colors, now literally changing right in front of you.
Suddenly, self-consciousness washed over you like a cold wave. You averted your gaze, stepping back instinctively. “I—I should go finish with the others. They’re probably waiting for me…” Your voice wavered, betraying the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.
Before you could dwell on it, a paint container wobbled on the edge of the table, knocking into your elbow. In your panic, you stumbled, sending brushes and colors sprawling over yourself. “Oh no!” you yelped, scrambling to clean up the mess.
“Y/N, wait!” Jungwon exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. He stepped closer, his hand closing around yours, halting your frantic movements. “Stop. Just breathe.”
His grip was steadying, grounding you amidst the chaos of your racing thoughts. “Let’s find somewhere quiet, okay? You need to clean up.” His voice held a calmness that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you.
You felt a rush of warmth at his concern, but your mind spun with confusion. “But… the booth—”
“Trust me,” he said, his gaze unwavering, a silent promise passing between you. “Just for a moment. Let’s talk.”
With a nod, you allowed him to guide you away from the festival’s noise, your heart racing not just from the moment, but from the undeniable connection building between you. The thrill of discovery was tempered by the anxiety of what it all meant, and yet, in Jungwon’s presence, you felt something shift—something new and exciting, just waiting to be explored.
He led you through a quieter section of the campus, where the walls were lined with colorful murals painted by students, the air filled with the faint scent of paint and creativity. The laughter and chatter from the festival faded into the background, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves overhead and the distant sound of music drifting from the booths.
As you turned a corner, Jungwon paused, the air around you suddenly thick with anticipation. He glanced around, ensuring you were alone, then leaned against the cool brick wall, his posture relaxed yet focused. His gaze locked onto yours, intensity radiating from him. “My hair… it’s slowly turning blond. Isn’t this what soulmate marks are supposed to be like?”
His words hung in the air, electrifying the space between you. You felt the weight of the moment press down, your heart racing like a wild drum in your chest. “Right… your soulmate mark,” you stammered, the tremor in your voice betraying the chaos inside. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it might just be a coincidence, but now… it's all starting to make sense.”
Jungwon stepped closer, the seriousness in his expression deepening. “You mean you knew?” His voice was low, the edge of urgency evident. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
The air crackled with tension, and you felt your pulse quicken. “I didn’t know it was you! I thought—” you cut yourself off, frustration bubbling within you. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward. You’ve been my crush longer than you’ve been a friend. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep things from being awkward with you, especially when my mark changed?”
Jungwon’s expression shifted, vulnerability breaking through his confidence. “Your mark... is it.… when did it change? Am I—was it before… or after we met?” His voice was tight, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.
You took a deep breath, feeling the memories rush back. “The day you carried me to the nurse’s office, you idiot.”
He blinked, taken aback by your response. “Wait… that day? But I thought...”
His expression softened slightly, the intensity in his eyes shifting as he took a step closer. You held your breath as he knelt down, his fingers hovering over your soulmate mark. The moment felt electric, a mix of vulnerability and anticipation coursing through you.
“Can I…?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nodded, giving him permission to touch it. As his fingers brushed against your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. Jungwon chuckled softly, the sound breaking some of the tension between you. “Can you believe this? It feels just like yesterday when I accidentally hit my crush with a soccer ball at her knees,” he said, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “The same crush I’ve wanted to approach since 10th grade but was always too afraid to mess up, especially with how she glares at boys.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the image of a younger Jungwon fumbling with his words as he tried to impress you suddenly vivid in your mind. “I didn’t mean to scare you off,” you admitted, your heart swelling with warmth. “I thought you were just… confident, you know?”
He shrugged, a hint of shyness creeping back into his demeanor. “I try to be. But it’s hard when you’re crushing on someone who’s out of your league.”
“Out of my league?” you repeated, incredulous. “Jungwon, you’re the captain of the soccer team! Everyone looks up to you.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not nervous around you,” he replied, his gaze locking onto yours, sincerity pouring from his words. “It’s different with you. You make me want to be better.”
The air between you thickened with unspoken emotions, each heartbeat echoing the connection that had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged. You both stood on the edge of something monumental, the laughter of the festival fading away, leaving only the two of you and the promise of what lay ahead.
The next day, Jungwon strolled confidently down the hallway, his head of hair transformed into a stunning honeyed blonde that turned heads with every step. The shift was striking—bold, noticeable, and oddly fitting—making it seem as though he had always intended to embrace this change. Whispers and awestruck glances followed him like a gentle wave, yet beneath that cool exterior, you could see the spark of mischief in his eyes, especially when they met yours.
“Wow, he really went all out,” Arin murmured beside you, her voice a mix of surprise and admiration. “He must’ve bleached the whole thing. I didn’t think Jungwon had that in him.”
You nodded, trying to maintain your composure while your heart raced. “Yeah… surprising, isn’t it?” you replied, though a smile betrayed your nonchalance as you watched him navigate the crowd like he owned the place.
Unaware of the true significance of his transformation, your classmates continued their commentary. “Looks good on him, though,” one girl remarked, her tone infused with genuine admiration. “Like he was meant to have it all along.”
Jungwon seemed completely unfazed by the attention, wearing his new look with a blend of pride and ease, as if his blonde hair was a badge of honor that only you understood. It was a mark that connected the two of you in ways that no one else could fathom—an intimate secret wrapped in boldness.
As the hallway thinned out, he lingered by his locker, his casual demeanor slipping just a bit as he caught your gaze from across the hall. He lifted a hand, brushing back his hair with an effortless charm that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach—a subtle nod to the secret you shared.
You walked over, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. “It suits you,” you said, keeping your voice low, the air between you thick with unspoken words.
His eyes softened, gratitude shimmering in their depths. “Good to know,” he murmured, his tone low but filled with warmth. “After all, it’s your fault it looks this good.”
A faint blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and before you could respond, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice even more as he added, “And don’t worry. The secret’s safe.”
In that crowded hallway, with laughter and footsteps echoing around you, it felt like you and Jungwon were enveloped in your own little world. His blonde hair, like a silent vow, was a reminder of what only the two of you understood: a hidden connection, pulsing with promise and anticipation, waiting to be explored.
#jungwon#enhypen au#yang jungwon#fanfiction#fluff#enhypen#heeseung#kpop#ni ki#sunghoon#jungwon fluff#jungwon angst#yang jungwon x reader#enhypen scenarios#yang jungwon angst#jungwon x reader#jungwon smut#enhypen smut#yang jungwon smut#enhypen fluff#enhypen x you#enhypen drabbles#enhypen smau#enhypen fic#park jeongseong#kim sunoo#enhypen sunoo#enha sunoo#enha x reader#niki smut
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heh.. okay, so you asked for different.. rubs hands together villaniously as i materialize from the bottomless shadows..
sub!vampire!ellie biting/bloodsucking denial.. reminding her how much of a good girl she needs to be even when your wrist is practically just brushing past her lips to cradle her face.. or when the weakest bead of blood is pricked from your finger.. flaunting it.. teasing.. goddess bless throw in whatever else you see fit freakmaster
TEMPTATION WAITS
before you read! ▪︎ my masterlist ☆: co-president...this is absolutely divine...shoulda seen the way i dropped everything for this im literally #TWEAKING. new fav thing i've ever written methinks. title song. (vibes aren't there but the title was too good.) ps: if you spot any typos i wrote this with one hand. KIDDING...or am i? divider creds—cafekitsune. ◇: not outright smut, but still suggestive!! and nsfw is described. fluffy end bc i think she earned it, lore sprinkled in because why nawt it's interesting, finger sucking (e! receiving), this is maybe a lil ooc idrc, she's described as looking quite ill in her vampiric form + begs like her century long life depends on it fr, (but also has a bit of an attitude, it issss ellie after all), mean!r, talk of blood/previous bite wounds. ++ 3.3k wc. doesn't need to be that long but atp? take it or leave it LOLL. filing under "oneshots" bc it's way more than usual reqs hehe.
“Please, baby. Just one taste. I'll do anything.” Desperate, shaky pleas spilled from Ellie, her voice noticeably tired from the effort. She's been at this for what felt like forever now, and you were getting tired of ignoring her. Or rather, a little bored.
She was kneeling on the wooden floor by your bed, fisting the creased sheets, trying to capture your attention. The shimmering moonlight was dancing on her features as if it was a sparkle of fireflies, making her oddly colored eyes appear to glow, and highlighting her sickly appearance.
In her vampiric form, her skin was tinted a ghostly—even chalky—white, barely a smidgen of blush dancing on the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes shifted from their original grassy green to a peculiar duochrome blend of emerald and ruby. She really looked unwell, but you knew it was merely a product of circumstance, her gloomy fate.
Ellie donned somber dark circles around her eyes, her lips withered, pale, and thin as a piece of tissue paper. Just behind them though, rested two deadly weapons of her very own—sizeable, razor-sharp, gleaming ivory canines reflecting the scarce lighting as if they were made of mirrored glass.
For the first time tonight, you met her gaze, assuming an unbreakable poker face. Her keen sight could pick out the most subtle of twitches, so you learned to defeat that. The moment you met her line of sight she perked up, her eyes widening in glee, you had finally acknowledged her existence after so long.
Scooting forward you placed yourself right in front of her still kneeling form, sitting so she was in between your legs, but she wasn't allowed to touch you until you said so. What torture.
She began again, “Can I do something to make you change your mind? I'll do anything. Anything in the world. I'll make you feel re-really good, and then I won't ask again…ever even, if that's what you want. Just please let me…I'm so thirsty.” She was rambling a million miles a minute, slurring her words and cutting herself off with hiccups, stuttering like was having a nervous breakdown.
Her chest heaving up and down was visible to you despite the dim surroundings, and you could just make out her facial expression—a pained grimace, as if she was experiencing all of humanity's greatest suffering. When you didn't reply but stayed observing her blankly, she sighed and hung her head in shame, you almost felt bad. Almost.
You extend a hand, twirling a strand of her hair—previously silky and vibrant, now as lifeless and dull as charred hay—and you feel her relax under your touch. You continue raking your fingers through her locks, scratching her scalp with your nails, and you hear her exhale forcefully. She's likely overwhelmed by your scent—it's invigorating, fresh, and full of life.
“Have you been good?” You pipe up with a voice colder than ice, softly caressing the flesh of her tense cheek, and letting your fingertips travel to the underside of her chin. You gently tilt her head up, noticing the way her eyelids flutter to a close. She's soaking up the heat radiating off of you, making sure to feel the sensations of your skin brush against hers as much as she can, commit them to memory for when she's apart from you.
Her lips part, allowing for hushed, woeful whimpers to pour out, and she instinctively bites her bottom lip to quiet herself. Only she forgets about the powerful daggers in her mouth, and almost pierces right through her own skin.
Taking notice, you tut at her, warning clicks of your tongue bouncing off the room’s walls, contrasting the dead of night’s eerie silence. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You push the pad of your thumb down on the plush of her lip, angling her jaw side to side, examining those killer gnashers she's got.
“You could hurt yourself with these y'know, be careful.” Her eyelids flicker open, she's staring up at you with the biggest doe eyes she could muster, somehow all while maintaining such a strong glare you feel as if she's trying to challenge you.
“I'll decide if you can have some, as long as you're good, and you let me have some fun first. Alright?” You explain in a neutral tone, earning a cute “mhm” of confirmation from the undead being before you. “Good girl.”
You slowly slip your thumb into her mouth, avoiding her fangs at all costs, and you let her wrap her slippery tongue around your digit, watching how her cheeks hollow and her eyes roll ever so slightly while she sucks, moaning as she takes in your taste—nothing more than just skin.
You chuckle at her desperation, revel in the power dynamic you have created. “Mmm, you taste so good, so sweet.” She mumbles, swirling her tongue around your thumb, coating the entirety of it in her spit. You allow it for now, but soon enough, to no surprise, she slyly tries to shift to the side in preparation to slice you and get her treat.
You sharply retract your hands from her, removing your finger from her mouth with a pop, disappointed by her greed, her audacity. She turns to the side and pouts, huffing and rolling her eyes with more attitude than a moody teen. “What did I say?” You calmly hiss at her. She whispers, almost inaudibly, “Sorry…taste so good, can't help m’self.” Her voice wavered, and the moonlight illuminated the faintest tinge of red across her features, it was nearly invisible.
But you could tell exactly what was up. She shifts uncomfortably in her spot, grunting with laughable, pitiful attempts to rub her thighs together, fingers toying with the cloth of her pants, putting her frustration on full display. You looked at her struggle, unable to contain your grin.
It was a different kind of high, seeing such a feared and fabled beast kneel before you in such a pathetic manner, but it turned you on like nothing else. It was also evident she enjoyed it as well, no matter how much she didn't want you to be aware of the fact. The extent to which she worships you and handles your body, the way she was willing to beg and let you order her around showed just how much you meant to her—it was beautiful in its own way, how devoted she was to you. You were her person.
The fact she couldn't stifle her desire anymore after all this time suggested a shift in the atmosphere of your wicked games, the tension in the air was getting impossibly thicker, and you were loving every second of it.
Ellie, you've got a short memory.” You tease, then gesture to the gauze wrapped around your forearm, protecting two puncture wounds left by none other than her just the previous night. She looks at it and cocks an eyebrow, grouching, “Yeah, I see that, what about it?” The husky edge to her voice had returned, the defiant attitude you loved to crack was back in full force.
“Hundreds of years old, you even have memories of wars, and you can't remember what happened, like, 24 hours ago? Wow…” Your voice is so patronizing, it's unpleasant and abrasive on the ears, even your own. She shrugs her shoulders, still kneeling on the cold, hard ground at your mercy. “Well let's have a refresher then, shall we?” Tearing the tan-colored bandage apart with a single rip, you reveal the puncture marks—they were still wet and irritated, the wounds reopening immediately at the slightest movement.
Ellie whines like an animal, a crude “ahh”, and she starts pleading harder than ever. “Please, baby, my pretty, my angel, please, please, pleasepleaseplease, just lemme have a drop, just one. That's all, I swear.” Her gaze darkens exponentially, if you didn't know her it would instill fear in your heart, but luckily you were well aware of all her tricks. She snarls, “Fuck you. I'm literally on my fucking knees right now. Why are you doing this?” Her voice breaks angrily, wobbling with great lust and need—the need to have you, the need to drink you and fondle you and taste you in all senses of the word, and at this point she didn't seem to care about preserving a morsel of her dignity, she was simply so drunk on you, you couldn't believe.
You reiterate the previously established explanation, “We have an agreement that says you're allowed to take my blood once a month, so you can have some more each time. Rather than taking a little bit but more often, you requested this yourself. And you already drank lots yesterday. Does that not ring a bell?”
She groans, a gravelly, guttural sound that had you coming back to your senses and realizing, this was technically, a monster who you loved so dearly.
It led you to wonder—to her kind, what was so special about the liquid coursing through your veins?
When you split your lip open as a kid, clumsily tumbling face-first onto the asphalt, or bit your tongue while eating something stubborn, the strange, metallic taste was purely disgusting. It had a certain heaviness to it, both physically with the way it sat in your mouth, but also mentally. Like a subconscious awareness you were not meant to consume it like she does, but to spit it out the millisecond it made contact with your taste buds. There were times where the thought made you queasy, the measly knowledge of just how much of this fluid was inside you, keeping you alive.
But to her, it was a completely different story. She lapped it up with such fervor, such thirst you've never seen before. A sloppy frenzy like there wasn't a single thing more delightfully flavorful.
Her teeth penetrating all the way through your epidermis, dermis, and hypodermis, and straight through the vein wall was a feeling you're likely never going to get used to. It stung, it really did, and you were quick to get all woozy from the blood volume loss, but Ellie knew your limits—even though hers were not even close. Her thirst was insatiable.
The intimacy of the act was a whole separate topic to think about too. It was such an erotic experience, and when probed about it she argues it's better than sex, somehow. When she drinks from you, Ellie is really messy with it, you noticed. Blood dribbles down her chin and stains her lips as if it's a designer lip oil, the distinct deep maroon color sometimes appearing clownish and too intense against her fair complexion.
She was really handsy as well, and you weren't sure if it was purposeful, but you didn't care to ask because you didn't really mind in the first place. It felt nice. Her muscular hands tend to trace your waist as she's suckling, hovering by your ass, and traveling north to knead the supple tissue of your breasts.
And how could you forget about the sheer proximity of it all, even when having sex normally, it didn't feel nearly as intimate or vulnerable as this. Her body would be tightly curled around yours, she couldn't bear to have one meager square inch of her not touching you.
When she drank from your neck, it was bordering on heavenly, you had to be honest with yourself. There was something about the combination of the light headed, dizzying feeling it brought you, her closeness, the licking sensations, and the hungry sounds she produced that all together mixed to form nothing short of a mind blowing, intoxicating concoction.
When you both were feeling it, she'd be able to draw breathy moans to fall from your lips, and would giggle into your skin before sucking harder, leaving bruised marks surrounding the punctures. You read in some folklore that vampires carried a sort of aphrodisiac in their fangs, or was it their saliva? Again, you didn't really know all the details, but the sessions made you both yearn for each other in a way that felt taboo to discuss—midnight feedings often turning into animalistic fucking, sometimes even simultaneously.
Like having Ellie latched onto the side of your neck while she grinds her dripping pussy onto yours, her pleasureful mewls filling your ears, or having her hold your wrist to her mouth while her other hand is pleasuring you into oblivion, prodding against your spongy walls, making your head spin.
The time you spent lost in thought, she had broken the rule of not touching you unless you said so, but all she had done was rest her head on your knee, zoning out, sulking like an injured puppy. Unfortunately for her, you weren't done torturing her just yet. You didn't move her off of you, she was just laying there, grumbling curses under her breath, saying how mean you were, how much she despised you and everything you stood for, although both of you knew the truth—she had said herself, “I've never tasted blood like yours,” and you felt intrinsically bound to her on a subconscious level, these were mere amusements you indulged in, that ended up beneficial for both.
She got her delicious elixir of life, at the cost of you having your way with her for a bit. You hear her sniffle, the little defenseless sound of defeat was able to break your act.
You resume stroking her hair, and she wraps trembling arms around your thigh. “Hmm?” You coo, putting on a sweet facade. “Don't talk to me like that, c'mon man.” She wails, the attempts to regain control over her voice proving unsuccessful.
You took your nails to the newly formed raspberry scabs on top of your bite wounds and picked them off, and she lunges to grab your arm with inhuman reflexes, but once again you emerge on top, having spent so much time memorizing every last one of her behavioral patterns, so much so you knew exactly how she was going to attempt catching you and moved out the way without thinking about it.
“Too slow, you've gotten predictable.” You ridicule her, embellishing your voice with the most fake, sickly sweet tone you could just to irritate her as much as you possibly could. Ellie lays her head on your thigh, sighing. It's like she's given everything up. Her own patience was running out, potentially entering unpredictable territory now.
You squeeze the sides of the hole in your skin to coax a bubble of bright red blood to ooze out, marveling, “It's such a nice color, I see why you like it so much.” You talk to her coolly, ignoring her tearful, yet terrifyingly rage-filled glares, her massive fangs bared as if you were a prey animal she caught herself and was preparing to rip apart.
“Want a taste, Ellie? Have you earned it?” You think out loud, comically tapping your chin to exaggerate the brainstorming act. “Whatever, it's not like I have anything left to say to you.” She sounded heartbroken, you've never seen someone have such sorrow, the sheer misery behind her eyes actually caught you off guard.
"Okay I think you have earned it, just need you to say one more thing.” She nods, a little too quickly, rushing to catch any tears that were planning an escape route down the sides of her pretty face. You cradle her cheek, brushing your thumb against her skin, “Aw, baby, don't cry.” This time however, your tone is sincere.
She doesn't wait for your request, and starts all over again, this is getting old. “I promise everything. I'll make you feel so good, I'll give you whatever you want, please …you're too sweet.” She huffs, “Well, except when you're not.”
She continues mumbling, burying her face in the meat of your thigh, occasionally stopping to lovingly peck where she was laying, quiet smooching sounds. That really melted your heart, you were ready to give her what she needs after so much cruelty. This went on much longer than you had planned, but you were having fun with it. So you decided to abandon whatever you would ask of her. But could anyone blame you?
She slowly reaches for your wounded arm, gauging your reactions, like in the situation you were planning to do something to prevent her, but you come up with a better idea. “I'll do you one even better, Els.” The grin that envelops her face could light up a thousand suns, and melt the coldest of souls. Make vampire hunters quit their careers even, that's how adorable she could be, on the occasion.
You lean back to take your shirt off in one swift motion, and lay back on the edge of the bed, tilting your neck to give her access to the sweet pulsating spot, finding the droplet of drool that falls from her agape mouth utterly hilarious. “Go ahead, I've had my fun.” She hesitates. “But our agreement, I don't wanna hurt you.” “Ellie it's fine, unless you don't want t-” “No I do I do, oh thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so muchhhh.”
Her gratitude is silly, she's straddling you and kissing all over your neck, face, and collarbones with such care, and you inhale sharply once you feel the familiar sensation of her teeth piercing your sensitive skin.
She has one hand on the nape of your neck, holding you close to her so you couldn't move away, and the other one finds your fingers to intertwine with hers, loud gulping noises filling the room as she messily laps up all that flows from you.
Her bony hips are sat atop your pelvis, and soon enough you feel her start absentmindedly rocking back and forth on you, your breath hitching. You hold her waist to ground yourself, and aid her. She's whispering, mostly to herself, “Fuck that's so fucking good, needed this so bad, need you, fuck- shit. Ah, yes.”
The vertiginous feeling swirls in your head and you feel yourself fading, your grip on her sides loosening, but you don't feel one single ounce of panic, because you know she's got you. No matter what, until the end of time. Or at the very least, until the final bells tolled and you were lowered to your eternal resting place six feet underground.
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Bookish | Wolverine/Logan Howlett X [Male Librarian] Reader
What made libraries so special? Logan might have answer to that, and it's the guy behind the desk.
Quick notes : This was an idea that came to me randomly! I liked the idea of having a more softish reader since it’s a personality that contrasts so well with Logans - think opposites attract! As usual, this story is set from Logan's POV (I’ll do Reader POV at some point, most likely in a oneshot rather than in these drabbles)! There will most likely be a few things (or many) that aren’t accurate to the X-Men comics/movies lore, and this is because I have yet to see the movies… I will be changing this shortly, however! [Side note, I will be completing a request sometime today and posting it alongside a part 2 to the Iron Man variant reader drabble.]
Story Details : About 1,300 words, Male Reader referred to as ‘You/Your,’ Reader has a soft personality, Reader’s outfit is vaguely described, inaccurate implied history of mutants and their evolution, so much fluff, Logan slightly OOC (?)
Chuck wanted him to go to the damn library. He didn’t even like the library. Apparently the old telepath needed some specific books on mutants for a presentation he was going to give to the students at the school. So, of course, he sent Logan. Asshole.
The older mutant pushed one of the front doors open, stepping into the building with his mouth set in a firm frown. A few of the guests looked up at him, but otherwise remained focused on their own book searching or reading. He huffed, his brows furrowing slightly as he took in the large area of books - not counting the second floor. Logan did not want to spend the whole damn day in this stuffy library, so he swallowed his pride and approached the librarian desk nearby.
To his surprise, however, he was met with you. You had a knit sweater on, with a button-up beneath it and a pair of dress pants; Logan couldn’t help but admire your form for a beat, taking in the small details about you. It took a moment before you looked up from the book you were reading, a warm smile gracing your face as you set it aside and gave the mutant your full attention.
“How may I help you, sir?”
Your voice made something flutter in Logans’ stomach, but he pushed the feeling aside. He cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked away in an attempt to straighten his thoughts.
“Does the library have books on mutants and their history?” He asked gruffly, fixing his eyes on you once more as he continued, “Specifically the mutation history?”
The way you blinked, pursing your lips in thought as you rubbed your chin made his heart thump oddly; why were you so… cute? At the thought, the mutant shook his head slightly, trying to clear his mind and focus on the task he’d been assigned.
“We have a mutant section in both fiction and nonfiction, but what you’re looking for is more likely in our history catalog,” you reached forward, typing something into the computer just beside you as you tapped your fingers against the wooden desk, “It might be in nonfiction, though. Is there a specific book you’re looking for?”
Logan watched you closely, his fingers twitching subtly as he felt the sudden urge to smoke; a cigar would’ve helped loosen him up, he guessed. He blinked when you suddenly addressed him, his focus shifting to what you’d said as he nodded and pulled out a small sticky note from his pocket. Written down in Chuck’s neat handwriting were the titles of the four books he needed, and the mutant handed it over with little a word.
You took the note in your hand, your fingers brushing against his as a shiver ran up his arm at the contact. The small hum that left you was, admittedly, kind of cute - it reminded him of a puppy trying to remember a command it was learning. As you scanned the list of books, a small smile graced your features, making the large room practically light up.
“Ah! We have three of these books!” You stated excitedly, turning back to your computer and presumably typing in their titles, “I know the one on mutant evolution in cells should be in mutant nonfiction - numbers 400 through 500 - but the other two I’m unsure of.”
When you got the answer you were looking for, your hand swooped as you scribbled out the location of each of the books Logan needed on a small slip of paper, the smile never leaving your face.
“They’re all very good books, you know,” your voice brought him out of his thoughts, “I’ve read the one on cell evolution and mutant development over the decades; they’re both packed full of information I think more folks should know.”
The fact you were pro-mutant - something so rarely seen these days - made a small part of Logan feel almost grateful. He had been expecting you to be closed off and aggressive (he didn’t know why that was his expectation, but considering how mutants were treated, he figured it was just how it was when he went out and about), but the way you so openly discussed that you thought people should learn more about mutants made him reconsider his opinions. After a pause, with the only sound nearby being the scratching of your pencil against paper, Logan spoke up.
“Do you have any other recommendations?” His fingers flexed, “On mutant history, that is.”
He watched as you seemingly perked up, the smile on your face turning to nearly a grin as you typed out something on the library computer,
“Actually, I do!”
When you found what you were looking for, the older mutant watched as you added a few more titles to the list of what he wanted and their location within the library.
“There’s a book on mutant inventions I always recommend, as well as one on the PTSD epidemic currently affecting mutants - that one is less history focused, but it’s still rather insightful,” He listened as you spoke with such certainty and excitement, as if the topic was one you were deeply invested in, “The only other one I could recommend would be by Dr. Hancock, a leading mutant researcher in cracking the X gene in mutants. That one is the last one on this list.”
With a slight tilt of your head, you set the paper with the list of books down on the desk in front of him, tapping it with your fingers as you seemingly thought for a pause. Logan glanced down at the paper before taking it in his hand, his eyes scanning your writing as he let out a grunt of approval - you were quick and efficient, and that was something he could appreciate.
“Can I ask you a question?” The mutant found himself asking, unable to keep the words from leaving him.
You simply nodded, still smiling so kindly as waited for him to ask.
“Why are you so… interested in mutants? You seem to know a lot,”
It was a harsh question - incredibly straightforward and blunt, just as he was - but you seemed to take it in stride, simply rubbing your chin as your gaze went upwards in thought. Logan decided he liked the way you looked when you were pondering something; it reminded him of something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Well, my interest started primarily because I had a mutant friend when I was younger,” you admitted honestly, finally refocusing on him, “They taught me quite a lot - about the oppression and lack of rights - and after that I devoted time to learning as much as I could because I never wanted to make a mutant feel less than.”
Your answer had Logan pause, his eyebrows near lifting to his hairline as he stared down at your seated form; that was not the answer he was prepared for. He was prepared for you to say something like ‘I wanted to learn about others,’ or, ‘Mutants are fascinating,’ not that you wanted to make them feel equal. The thought had a slight smile tug at his expression, the sincerity in your words ringing true even for him.
“Bleeding heart, then,” He said with an amused huff, looking back down at the list in his hand before he gave you a slight nod, “Thank you. For the help.”
Logan watched as you laughed softly, picking up your book and flipping to the page with your bookmark in it,
“I’ll be here if you need more of it, sir.”
The smile on his face widened slightly as he finally stepped away from your desk, his fingers brushing over the paper he held as he began to step towards the part of the library you’d indicated was where the books he needed would be.
It was only when he found two of the books that he realized he didn’t have a library card. Fuck.
#logan howlett#logan howlett x male reader#logan howlett x you#logan x reader#male reader#wolverine x reader
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oh, i was raised on little light.
synopsis. 5 times that blade listed every reason why he can never be with someone like you, and the 1 time you proved him wrong. pairing. blade x gn! reader cw. hurt/comfort, a lil angsty on blade's part with brief mentions of blade's insistence on dying, implicit spoilers about blade's lore in general author's note. i have been itching to write a 5+1 fic for the longest time now....i was listening to northern attitude and it reminded me of blade so bad. hello blade nation i know i understand why he’s so angst-ridden appealing to write for 🙁
when blade met you for the first time, everything in him knew you would be different from the rest of the group. you were the newest addition to the stellaron hunters, whom elio took a great fascination towards — why so, he never figured out, but this landed you in the same ranks as him, kafka and silverwolf.
you easily found a friend in both kafka and silverwolf; blade knew that much because he had watched as you indulged in kafka's innate interest in beauty despite the clear confusion in your eyes. he had seen how you would chat with silverwolf about the latest games that she's invested most of her time into.
but he would merely observe you; if, in any way, you had tried to interact with him, he would brush you off with a cold shoulder, never responding to your rather inquisitive words about him.
he didn't understand why you wanted to know so much about him, nor did he expect to be greeted with the same smile and greeting despite constantly keeping you at arm's length.
that was when he knew that you were too nice for your own good, but most of all, you were too nice to someone like him, who'd push you away even when every inch of his soul did not want to.
━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━
the second time was when you had accidentally found out about his despondency with immortality's curse and in turn, everything that blade had wanted to hide from you.
when you had approached him about it, blade immediately went on the defensive and angrily asked you to stay away from him. he didn't — couldn't bear to see the hurt in your eyes when he snapped at you, thus, the stellaron hunter turned his back on you and fled. which had exactly been the source of the never ending spiral of thoughts that was slowly consuming every fibre of his being.
he's done it now. he's blown any chance that he could form anything meaningful in this ruined life of his.
he had not noticed your presence in the common room, until you made a clanging noise that was the result of two porcelain cups making contact. blade was startled to see you here, especially when he had just uttered those spiteful words to you. he stood up to take his leave, when you called his name.
even the way you said his name had a gentle tenderness to it; he hated how melodious your voice had sounded, hated how he watched as you gingerly set down two porcelain tea cups filled with jasmine tea, one quite noticeably for him, hated how you took the seat in front of him and told him that you were sorry, and that if he ever needed someone to talk to, that you would always be there for him.
but most of all, he hated how his heart rose at your promise, and how much he clung to your words since that night. all the while fully knowing that he could never subject you to being intertwined with the likes of him.
━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━
the third time was much more of a painful wakeup call — quite literally. blade had always prided himself in diving straight first into battle without a single thought, desperate to die and get on with it. this mission was no different, but now you had been watching over him and ready to provide support if needed.
today's battle was much more vicious than his usual ones, but blade had always enjoyed the thrill of fighting. it had been the uncertainty of whether it would finally be his time that allured the stellaron hunter.
but… things had gone quite differently today. for the first time, blade was not seething in his obsession to die when he had seen you valiantly fight off the enemies that had threatened to overwhelm him. ha, as if they could.
he had not noticed that one was charging straight at him with his spear raised, and for a split second could quite literally see his long life flash before his eyes just as he narrowly avoided a fatal injury if it weren’t for the fact that you shouted for his name.
"stay still. i still need to bandage your side." your voice had inevitably brought him back to reality, just as you wiped off the last of his injuries with a warm towel. you had insisted on patching up his wounds yourself, and even when blade had told you that it would just magically heal by himself, he learned that day that it was rather hard to say no to you when you pleaded.
also, he could barely say no when he saw how you were radiating in concern and worry for him. not to mention how your eyes had gleamed like stars in the sky, but that was besides the point.
at the touch of your hand, blade suddenly winced at the contact. you immediately retracted your hand and mumbled an apology, but blade could see that your eyes was moving towards where he covered up the scars he's accumulated for fighting for over a century.
"are you wondering about my scars?" you seemed rather surprised at his question, but most likely due to the sudden indulgence to what you had been obviously looking at.
you slowly nodded. "do they still hurt?"
"not anymore." not any more than his painstaking wish to be free from the shackles of immortality.
you had started to set down the alcohol and bandages on the floor just as blade averted his gaze from you. the silence that proceeded was rather deafening, even for someone like blade who would rather sit in uncomfortable silence than deal with something intimate.
which was ... quite the contradiction to what he had previously allowed you to do, but you had slowly become the exception to many things in his life.
"there, all done. don't be too reckless next time, okay?" you smiled at your handiwork, and even if blade couldn't exactly benefit from whatever you had just done, he somehow felt a thousand times better than he's ever felt in a century. a flicker of a smile could unmistakably be seen in his features, and whether you had caught that or not, he saw you grinning all the same.
on a normal day, blade would have found himself grumbling about losing yet another chance at death, but instead, here he was, smiling at you.
the thought of dying at last had evidently crossed his mind more than once, but never did the thought of dying for someone else. blade very well knew that he could never be that selfless; maybe he had been once upon a time, but that had only costed him the sweet liberation of death.
and yet, the fact that he feels that greatly for you was enough to keep him up the rest of the night, the image of your blinding smile forever seared in his mind.
━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━
the fourth time these thoughts had started to creep up to him again was when the both of you coincidentally crossed paths at an ungodly hour, that you had the bright idea to go gaze at the stars together.
the thought of doing something together made his heart clench, but blade, against his better judgement, allowed you to take his hand in yours as you searched for the perfect spot to watch the stars from from their location.
the skies were clear that night, as if the universe had anticipated that two sleepless beings would be standing at the dock and watch the stars align before their very eyes. with a watchful eye, he stared as you could hardly contain your own excitement. "look, look! there's the brightest star — oh, i never thought we could get such a proximate view from here!" you kept flailing your hand everywhere and he wondered where exactly you had found that energy.
that was when he realized you had never let go of his hand, and instinctively, blade found himself clenching your hand in an attempt to let go. noticeably, your gaze flicked towards him, a momentary glance but the emotion it held in it was enough to send a chill down his spine. he could feel your grip on his hand loosen slightly, but blade didn't want to be a fool any longer.
something in him told him to keep holding onto you, as his fingers interlocked with your hand and held it firmly. blade could hear your breath hitch at his sudden gesture, but naturally, you just smiled and squeezed his hand back.
oh, how your smile had always made his heart ache.
"beautiful, isn't it?" you whispered under your breath, as your eyes were now fixed on the sky above the both of you. the world felt dangerously quiet, but he did not mind the fleeting peace it gave him. blade simply hummed in approval, his mind lost in the moment but he never found the urge to peel his eyes away from you.
to him, you were the brightest star that night and how he foolishly hoped that you’d never get tired of shining your light on him.
“yes, it is.” but foolish dreamers could never get what they want.
━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━
the fifth time was the last time, the time where blade had fully convinced himself that he could not possibly get involved with someone as great as you.
you were sitting across from him as you shared another cup of tea with him. blade could vividly remember the first time he had done this with you like it had only happened yesterday. still, it had been months since then — but you still haven't changed at all.
"is there something in your cup?" blade hadn't realized that his gaze became fixed on the porcelain cup that you handed to him minutes ago, that he barely even touched it. "no. it’s nothing.”
whether you had sensed his avoidance or not, you didn’t comment on it further. blade ended up taking a sip of his tea just as you were fiddling with the detailed carvings on your cup. now, it was probably his turn to sense that you had been avoiding something. “is there something on your mind?”
you looked up at him suddenly, no doubt wondering if blade had just said what he said — not that blade was particularly good at providing a form of care like you did, but his silence had always made him a good listener.
“you know, i really appreciate that you’re spending time with me.” you started, as blade watched your fingers graze over your cup for the millionth time, a habit that you had often done when you were nervous. how he knew that was something he’ll take to the grave.
blade didn’t say a word, only resorting to taking another sip from his tea. what was there to say? that he felt the same but a million times more in magnitude? it would be uncharacteristic of him to admit something that embarrassing. maybe, it had been his lack of response, that you continued to talk.
“sorry, i know you would prefer much quieter companions,” you spoke with a suppressed laugh, the same distinct chuckle that blade could recognise even from a mile away. “truthfully, i thought you even disliked me.”
it was his turn to be perplexed, as blade looked up to meet your gaze that was … on him. you sheepishly smiled at the sudden confession, before you took a big gulp of your tea. his head was spinning, and maybe it had been something in the tea, but blade could feel his tongue loosen with the many things he had been holding back. “i did. i do.”
a twinge of hurt crossed your eyes for a moment, before you casted your eyes downward. “oh.”
“i hated how nice you are,” he blurted out. “i hated how you would look at me with a great deal of concern in your eyes like i am someone to be pitied.”
“i hated how you’d still try to be there and talk to me, even when i had pushed you away before.”
“i hated how you are able to read me like the back of your hand. i hated how you could easily make me feel safe with your smile.” blade had wanted to stop talking, but the words kept going.
“i hated how gently you would tend to my scars, how your eyes would sparkle at the mention of something you love and how downright mesmerizing it is for me.” he watched as your eyes widened, before they were plunged in a tirade of emotions that were no doubt a result to his words.
he wasn’t finished yet, though.
“but most of all, i hated how whenever i’m around you, or even think about you, dying is the last thing i’d ever wish for.”
the uncomfortable silence settled in between them again, save for the whirring of the machines that blade was suddenly grateful for. he couldn’t bear to even look up at you, lest he’d see the hurt in your eyes again. “blade...”
“sorry. that was very unbecoming of me. i can go.”
“blade...” he took the last gulp of his tea before bringing the cup down with a clang. “thank you. for the tea, as always—”
“blade.” he looked up to finally meet your gaze that was only a breath away from him, before he could feel your hand gently cradling his cheek before you leaned your forehead against his.
oh. oh. you didn’t say anything more but still singlehandedly calmed his largest worries with just a simple gesture.
“you know, you could have just told me you liked me a lot.” typically, the cheeky and teasing tone in your voice would make him groan, but only this time, he allowed himself to smile. “also, what did you mean by the tea?”
now he was confused. “didn’t you give me tea?” you shook your head. “what the hell was that then?”
you could hardly suppress a grin. “you said you wanted rice wine one time, so …” so that’s why all those words spilled out of him … a groan escaped blade just as you laughed at his mishap, but not that he completely regretted it.
he knew that no matter what he did, he could never deserve someone like you — but he would choose to die for you a million times, that much was certain.
but for now, blade could most definitely contend for choosing to live for you instead.
written by carlyle (@particular-one) copyright: all content belongs to particular-one on tumblr (2023)
#blade x reader#blade honkai#hsr blade#blade x y/n#blade x you#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#blade hsr#hsr x you#hsr#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail scenarios#honkai star rail imagines#honkai star rail blade#hsr fluff#5 + 1 fic#honkai star rail fic#honkai star rail oneshots#blade angst#blade fluff#hsr angst#hsr fanfic#honkai x reader#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader#star rail#star rail x reader#hsr x y/n#star rail x y/n#·˚ * 🔭 carlyle writes
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- Foster Fail -
OCs: Parker Brown (baseline), Battle-Brother Mikhail (Dark Angel), Blood Claw Kári (Space Wolf). Brother-Sergeant Perseus (Ultramarine) and Battle-Brother Celeborn (Lamenter) are mentioned but don't appear yet
Tags: Space Marine Husbandry (Sentience), found family dynamics that will be elaborated on, fluffy self indulgent nonsense, Space Wolf is big doggy, gay ass space marines
This idea wormed its way into my brain after binge reading @kit-williams's Space Marine Husbandry stuff, though what I've written may not exactly be compliant with the established lore in terms of bonds. Idk I'm a silly guy who likes nontraditional found family,, ty to @daily-shenanigans784 for the beta and to my beloved Blood Angels fan for giving a seal of approval lol
The Chorus: @thisuserislilsilly
- - -
“I just don’t see myself taking on any Blood Angels in the future.”
“Really?” The new case worker tipped her head to Parker, clutching her clipboard and giving him a bemused look over the cafe table.
“Don’t get me wrong, my friend has a beautiful Sanguinary flock with a dreadnought they absolutely adore, so I can see the appeal. It’s more of a lifestyle thing.” Licking his lips, he brushed the last crumbs of pastry from his fingers, crumpling up his napkin to discard on his empty plate.
“You say that like you don’t have a Lamenter roosting in your barn, Mr. Brown. Clearly you know how to keep ‘em.” She tittered. Speaking to another baseline was certainly a change of pace from Ankesh, the Salamander he’d corresponded with the last few years, but so far he had no complaints about Lorraine.
Parker scoffed. “Celeborn and Percy are a bonded pair, I had no say in the matter.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but it was hard to imagine life without the Lamenter these days.
“Oh, Perseus? Your Ultramarine?” Lorraine’s bleach blonde hair swished as she glanced down at her clipboard.
“Mhm.”
She peered over the top of her forms, expression quizzical as he took a final swig of his coffee. “I thought you and him were bonded.”
“Hm? Why’s that?” With a raised brow, he wiped his lips on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
“Well, I’ve never seen a solitary marine follow a baseline without one before.” Her round eyes bored into him, seeking answers like she could drill them out with a stare. Okay, maybe there was something he could complain about. Way too much eye contact.
“Dunno about any of that, but Percy’s family, no matter how you slice it.” Shrugging, Parker tried to find a spot on Lorraine’s nose he could look at more comfortably.
“How long have you been…?”
“Seven years.” He stated before her inquisitive silence could stretch too long. “I’m 23, be 24 in the spring.”
Beaming, her round eyes grew even wider. “No wonder you’re the local loyalist foster, if you’ve been working with Astartes for so long.”
“Working is a strong word.” Chuckling, Parker couldn’t help but be reminded of days crawling out his bedroom window only to be scruffed by a scowling Ultramarine. “Speaking of, you bring the file?”
“Sure thing.” Flipping past what he assumed to be his foster record, Lorraine unclipped a few papers from the stack on her clipboard, passing them across the table as he pushed his glasses up his nose.
In the interest of skimming the whole document, Parker removed the paperclip holding the stack together and picked out the important details. Battle-Brother Mikhail, Primaris, loyalist. His brow furrowed. Dark Angel. First-time foster. “...No brothers-in-arms with this one, Lori?”
“Nope! You said you wanted to take it easy for the holidays, so I figured you’d only want one on your hands.” Lorraine grinned, seemingly oblivious to the migraine already brewing.
Fostering the rough cases of loyalist Astartes was Parker’s bread and butter, and it was partially because he had gotten quite good at tuning into their needs. Loyalists might have seemed easier than Chaos marines or Renegades, but that was only on the surface, as they could become just as unruly and sullen. Potentially violent.
A great many fosters that had gone through Pinkman Ranch, and the most common were those poorly adjusted to the second millennium, either through recent arrival or homes that couldn’t provide for their needs. An industrious and well behaved Ultramarine or a beautiful and artistic Blood Angel could very easily become agitated and restless with someone who expected an easy foray into the benefits of having a space marine in the household. His father had taught him that the hard way.
“You’ve worked with Dark Angels before, right?” The case worker piped up, snapping Parker out of his contemplation.
“Yup. A pair of them, last year.” He mused, remembering that they were… hard to motivate. For lack of a better word, space marines with hobbies often adjusted better to a time without the strife they were built for, giving them passions to pursue. Dark Angels ran on piety and persecution as their duties, which proved to be incredibly difficult to get past. “They aren’t exactly big talkers.”
“Which makes them perfect for a nice quiet vacation!” Lorraine forged ahead, nodding eagerly.
“Mhm.” Quiet was exactly what he was worried about. Years of familiarity had cracked Percy’s shell, Celeborn was forthcoming with his needs and had Percy to advocate, and Kári wore his emotions as plainly as wearing his armor. Without a battle-brother for support, to ease his way into a new worldview, fostering a Dark Angel could be tricky and delicate work.
“My only question is how you think your Space Wolf might interact with him.”
“Kári listens to his pack. He knows to back off.” The concern was how the foster would react to his squad, not the other way around. The Blood Claw could be rambunctious, but Parker worried how such an insular marine would warm up, especially if he was out of commission for a bit and unable to stand between them. However, that wasn’t something Lorraine needed to know about.
“Anything else you wanted to ask? I assume you already know how to contact the local base.”
Parker dragged a hand through his hair, staring down at the small photo of the Primaris attached to the document. Serious but slim face, dark hair, a proud but haunted look in his eye. Of course he could always decline, but… this was part of why he started fostering after all. Percy would always be there if things got out of hand.
“Nope, I think we’re good to go.” He paperclipped the file back together and handed it back across the table to Lorraine. “I assume you’ll send him by tomorrow?”
-
In the cold grey light of early morning, frost covered grass crunched beneath boots and sabatons alike, padding along the fence of the property. For someone so big, Parker was continuously impressed by how quiet an enormous stack of muscle and armor like a space marine could move so quietly, the Dark Angel having fallen into step behind him.
“Just so we understand each other, you’re here to adjust, so I only have one big rule. Stay on the property, don’t go running off into the woods.” Parker looked sidelong over the barbed wire at the dense thicket of blue spruce blanketing the mountainside. “Rocky Mountain National Park is pretty damn big, so there’s plenty of room for war bands and renegades and the like, but you can’t go running after them while I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you. Understood?”
Looking back at the marine, Parker waited for some indication of understanding, thankfully receiving a nod.
“Great. You can run off and hunt once we’re done, though if you can’t stand being idle that long, there’s plenty to do around here.” He smiled at the impassable helmet, hoping the Astartes felt welcome behind it. Mikhail hadn’t said a word since the local base had dropped him off, but Parker had to admit to himself he didn’t expect much else.
“Most of the profitable work is seasonal thanks to the livestock we keep, the sheep get sheared in the spring, and we harvest honey from the bees in summer and fall, but upkeep is year round. There’s also the chickens up by the house, but they’re more like pets, and we eat the eggs more than we sell them.” Meandering towards the barn, Parker chattered away, a soft pride in his chest as he talked about what had become the last few years of his life.
It wasn’t long before he was intercepted, a behemoth in grey armor rising from where he’d been sitting amongst the flock of sheep and jogging over with a sharp toothed grin.
“This our fresh blood, PB?” Kári crowded into Parker’s space as usual, grabbing the baseline by the underarms and scooping him up for a hug in greeting. Though the armor was cold in the winter air, his body glove and skin radiated heat, and without his helmet Parker had free rein to run his hand through the Space Wolf’s short auburn curls.
Parker chuckled. “Be nice, there’s no need to call him that. Kári, this is Battle-Brother Mikhail. Mikhail, Blood Claw Kári.” Twisting in the affectionate marine’s grip, he turned to smile encouragingly at Mikhail, gesturing as best he could for introductions.
“No need to keep your helmet on, cousin. Let me see that pretty face of yours.” The Space Wolf teased, expression wolfishly playful as he nosed Parker’s cheek, ruffling his hair with warm puffs of breath.
“Be nice, I said.” Parker groused, righting his glasses as Kári’s nuzzling had knocked them askew. “You don’t need to if you don’t want to, Brother Mikhail.”
Silent through their exchange, Parker half expected the Dark Angel to ignore Kári, but to his surprise after a moment of stillness Mikhail reached up. With a hiss of a releasing seal, his helm was removed and magnetized to his hip.
The printed black and white thumbnail image on his file did him no justice. Wavy black hair hung down to the man’s jaw, framing oddly wide green eyes and high cheekbones. He, much like Kári, had a look of youth almost uncharacteristic of the Adeptus Astartes, but with a pale face rather than the Space Wolf’s freckled and suntanned one.
Kári whistled appreciatively. “Oh, you are pretty! Why don’t you waste some time with me tending the sheep?“ Parker was ready to scold him when Mikhail defied his expectations once again and looked shy. A blushing Astartes was truly a sight to behold, and the baseline had to consciously keep his mouth shut so as to not gape at him.
“That which does not serve the Emperor’s will is not anything praiseworthy.” Mikhail muttered, voice soft but oddly robotic. Blinking, Parker stared at the Dark Angel for a long moment before covering his mouth with a hand, almost certain that laughing would be seen as disrespectful.
“Seeing as he isn’t here to impose that will, I wouldn’t concern yourself.” Tipping his head at the other marine, Kári spoke flippantly. Already pushing buttons. Mikhail’s brow furrowed into a frown.
“What he means to say,” Parker quickly interjected, “Is that nobody can find your Emperor in our time. Humanity is not united under him like in yours, so… he’s not exactly leading anything here. At the moment.”
Jaw working, Mikhail’s lips twisted as he seemed to think for a long moment, perhaps coming up with a retort as he stared intently at the baseline. It was what Parker often feared working with loyalists; they only knew to be His weapons. However, there was no way of knowing what Mikhail thought, as he once again fell silent with a brief nod of understanding.
“How about we head back to the house? Percy and Celeborn are still baking?” Uneasy but relieved for the time being, Parker steered the conversation away from the Astartes’s past (future?) and patted Kári’s gorget in a request to be put down that was quickly obliged.
“Lead the way.” Kári pressed his nose to the baseline’s mousy brown hair one last time before letting him go, and Parker started the trek back to the farmhouse, the two space marines following behind like a pair of very large, armored ducklings.
#warhammer 40k#fanfic#my writing#ocs#m!oc#space marines#ultramarines#space wolves#lamenters#dark angels#space marine husbandry sentience
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A will to live (Honkai : Star Rail's Aventurine)
credit to @xuaninin on twitter/X
Reminder : I do not write accurately to the lore of the world I am writing. I write whenever there’s an idea
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
Aventurine should have denied Jade’s offer to go to this club; she invited him because he is too tense lately and needs to release himself so as not to feel too tense. Now he is surrounded by the workers trying to grab his attention for the money he has
“Come on,Aven. Take one and enjoy for the night”
Aventurine scoffs, rolling his eyes “No”. With only a short answer to Jade’s suggestion, he stands up heading to the bathroom but a room he passed by caught his ears’ attention. A feminine voice gently singing in the room, with curiosity he twist the door knob twisting the door open revealing a woman sitting in front of a dressing table brushing her soft hair
“She is new” A voice startled him from behind “Got her off the street and i had to have her here because of her beautiful voice. I’ll give you a try first then you can pay” the old man smug at Aventurine. Before he can even reply, he push him into the room and closes the door
The lady turns facing him then smiles. She walks towards him in a sway gently holding his hand “You are the most beautiful i have ever seen” she dances around him with her scarf flying behind her as she does “Come here” she leads him the white bed gently inviting him to lay down
The lady starts to sing to him as he lays down and her fingers massage his hands. Her melodic tones resonated with such purity and grace. Aventurine felt she is singing him a lullaby to sleep
“No”, he stops her hands that were about the unbuttoning his shirt “Proceed singing” he keeps her hand in his squeezing them. She looks at him for a moment and then she continues singing. Her hands never stop stroking his cheeks and hair making him feel safe and sound. A feeling he has someone beside him for more than to sleeping around.
She lays her head on his bicep. Their hands intertwine not wanting to release any moment “Why you don’t want me? Am I not beautiful enough for you?”
Aventurine let out a small laugh “You are already beautiful even your clothes are on”
“You are an odd one”
“You don’t like it?”
She shakes her head “No, I love it. Sometimes they all come here for one thing and no more than that…” There was a pause. “It hurts….”
Her pain was just like he had in his past life. The loneliness and pain not having someone to protect and to feel home like “I know how you are feeling. I went through the same thing too”
She sits up looking at him in disbelief “How did you escape?”
Aventurine thinks for a while starting the at ceiling “With the will to live i guess”
“Oh… I don't even know if I have the will to live at all. I am here trapped forever”
He also sits up laying his hands on her shoulders “Don’t say that. You can escape this life”
“No… I don’t have anyone outside there… I am scared”
Aventurine knows thoroughly how she felt. Scared to be alone outside to survive on their own “I can buy you”
“No!” the way he startled at her scream makes her feel bad for it “No… I know your intention but. I want my freedom to not be purchased… I want my freedom to succeed on my own, which I don't know if it’s possible…”
Aventurine sighs “You want to be free but you are holding yourself back,you know that right?”
“I know but… I'm so scared. And that man outside… he won’t let me go. He likes me”
Aventurine scowls at her words. Before he can say anything more, the door opens ajar “Time’s up” The man that sent him in came back again. With heavy heart, Aventurine stands up their hands didn’t want to let go but alas they let go
“How was she? Pretty little bird,right?”
Aventurine rolls his eyes with a scowl on his face “We didn’t do anything. I’m not paying”. He left to meet Jade who is not around anymore in the club. He sighs and exits the club by himself.
That is if he even left.
He sat in his car waiting hours until the club closed. As soon as the lights of the buildings are already off. Aventurine went out from his car, quietly walked to the back of the building and stopped outside a window. He taps the window and waits for an answer
“What are you still doing here?” she asked after she opens the window
Aventurine’s eyes widened seeing a bruise on her face “Did he do that?” he reaches her face but he pulls his hand back when she flinches in pain “I’m so sorry..”
“It’s okay… i’m used to it”
His lips trembles at her confession “Come with me”
“What?”
“You said your freedom is not priced. And I am right now giving you an option to leave this place… I will be with you. Forever”
His last words made her lost to breathe “Forever?”
“Yes,forever. I will love you and you will love me. You are the will of me to live and i will be the will of you to live”
Her tears flows from her eyes not caring her eyes are already in pain from the beating she got “Yes”
Such a simple answer that changes her path of life. She takes his hand and he sweeps her feet off the place of her misery to the life she ever dreamed for. Two lost souls found each other to learn to live like the fairy tales they’ve read.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
A fanfic dedicated to my best friend for her birthday today. It is nothing much. A priceless gift but she loves Aventurine dearly so why not give her a fanfic? And sorry if this story has no flow and so rush because yes i wrote this in a rush and i had like 2 other drafts of fanfic for Aventurine but i didn’t like the idea hshshs. But again Happy birthday to my dearest friend for years. I love her so much because she has support my writing since we were young and she still is :))) happy to have her still until now
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Hiiii I just finished Cyno's second story quest and it's beyond amazing! I love it! The best story quest so far for me... seriously!
I really really want a Sethos and Cyno fic now... bjt at the same time I want a Lisa and cyno too...
Eh, I'll just write both. Man it's been a while... since I wrote for genshin impact.
Hehe
Warning spoilers for Cyno story quest 2 and his lore about his powers.
Ler!sethos, Lee!cyno
Summary: Sethos really wants to beat Cyno. Tcg is out of the question... what can he do? He really needs to find his weakness... nonetheless, a certain Fennec decides to spill a little secret.
Temple of laughter
Ugh... again... Cyno, the general of Mahamatra, beats him again.
That'd thr seventh time in a row.
"You really need to brush up on your strategic skills." Cyno casually states, his tone serious anf genuine regardless of Sethos mentality.
Sethos has his head lowered on the table. Utterly broken and defeated. He looks up with fatigue, "Seriously Cyno, isn't there any other way that I can best you in?"
Cyno thinks, actually wondering to what he can help with Sethos. How's your sense of humour with jokes? I've known to have the best puns in Sumeru... perhaps from Teyvat"
"Don't go spouting puns on my watch, Cyno," Tighnari intervenes as he joins them briefly after a rain forest mission.
Cyno sigh, "Just admit that my jokes are superior and you can't hold in your laughter..."
Tighnari rolls his eyes, sarcastic now, "Oh yes I'm gonna die laughing every time he says a pun joke..."
Cyno, naively believing him, folds his arms proudly, "See, even the most serious ones know how great my -Ah!"
Tighnari poked him on the side, looking sassy, "How about try a tickle fight?"
"That's dumb..." Cyno scoffs but flinched defensively when Tighnari threatens to poke him again.
Sethos blinked. Could that be it? The general mahamatra can't possibly lose to something as simple as that...
Tighnari, seeing Sethos who's also curiously watching Cyno, smirks with an idea popping to his mind. His ear twitched in excitement as he swiftly began, "You know Sethos, you and Cyno can wrestle and see who's stronger."
Cyno, unaware of his ulterior motives, looks up in confusion, "That's unexpected... why suddenly?"
Tighnari cheekily points out, "Oh? Are you afraid that you might actually lose to someone younger than you?"
"N-no, of course not... geez, fine, I'll play along!"
Green eyes brightened at the thought of how Tighnark set him a perfect chance to get Cyno back. However he should be careful when Cyno retaliates. He's pretty ticklish too... perhaps even more than Cyno.
It's too absurd to think Cyno is ticklish... it might be a path to death if he attempted it. Still it's worth the risk.
"Fine Sethos, ready whenever you are," Cyno says, his hands up against his chest to a defence stance.
Sethos takes his chances, inhaling and exhaling. Praying thar Cyno will be at least a bit ticklish...
"The ribs and armpits... and pretty much his back and thighs are bad..." Tighnari whispered to him on his way out from the room where they've been duelling TCG.
Sethos looks back, tearfully and gratefully. He should remind himself to treat Tighnari to a meal sometime.
He lunged, and as expected, Cyno dodged most of them. After keeping up the charade, Sethls strikes by throwing himself on the general, grabbing his waist.
Sethos swiftly tickles his ribs causing Cyno to jolt on surprise, "H-ha! Wait... what a-ahahare you...?"
Getting more confident by that reaction, Sethos began to tickle up his armpits, causing Cyno to jerk again, more violently, he giggles in a low voice.
"Ah... I never knew the general Mahamatra to be this sensitive..." Sethos responds fondly. Seeing the uncontrolled movements of Cyno, squirming and rolling to the side to avoid his sensitive spots but Sethos was already on to him, his tickles nimble and effective.
"H-hahaa cohohohome on! Thihihihis isn't fahahahair!" Cyno squirms now, trying to figure back but Tighnari had give away all his worst spots to Sethos and luckily he can't even tickle him back properly. Every time Cyno reached to tickle him back, Sethls tickled his armpits.
"But you weren't fair when you tried to make me play a game. I never had a chance to win..." Sethos said, feigning hurt, "Oooh but general... you look more ticklish than me... what if an eremite finds out?"
Cyno was not prepared for Sethos to switch him on to his stomach, and scribble his fingers on his back. Unable to defend himself, Cynl writhes and laughs, more like cackling like a madman, "AhaHAHAHA NOHOHO MORE! AHA!"
"Do you yeild Cyno?" Sethos grins, expectantly but Cynl cackles. Not responding...
"In that case..." Sethos and Cyno both hears a voice, Tighnari leaning by the door frame, watching fondly, "Sethos aim for the back of his thighs... its so bad that he will scream like a girl"
"Ihihihi dohoho nohohot screeeheheheam like a gihihirl -EEEEK!"
Tighnari shakes his head amusedly, and he did...
Sethos freeze by that sound when Cyno lets a shrilled, high-pitched cry as his fingers swiped the back of his thigh.
"O-oho wow... I didn't expect that..." Sethos somewhat feels bad, but... he couldn't help lightly run his fingers over the thighs, causing Cyno to yelp now, "N-NOT THERE!"
Maybe just a little longer...
Sethos teases him, "Wait... are you really begging me Cyno?"
Cyno grits his teeth, but giggles angrily when Sethos, merely used to tap the sensitve spot, and even his hips making him flinch again.
"Cynoo~ which funny bone will it take to break you?" Sethos had to make a joke as he squeezes his hip, Cyno shrieks and that made Tighnari laugh, "Well I can guarantee Sethos has a better sense of humour than you..."
"Nooohooohoo"
Sethos didn't know if it's the tickling or the fact that Tighnari said he was funnier than Cyno triggered him.
"So tough but ticklish..." Sethos murmurs, now Cyno reached his limit when he got his knees.
"Fohohor thehehehe love ohohof teheheyvat y-yohohou win! You whihihihin!"
Sethos looks happy, suddenly whooping as he got off of Cyno, "Finally! I beat Cyno!"
Tighnari giggles now, proud, "Nice one, Sethos... Cyno is finally put to his place"
Cyno groans, trying to sit up despite his fatigue and flushed face, "J-juhuhuhust don't think I'll not get rehehehevenge on you and Tighnari"
Sethoa merely grins.
Worth it...
Ignore the grammar pls thanks
#tickle fic#cute#lee!cyno#ler!sethos#ticklish!cyno#cyno#sethos#tighnari#genshin impact tickle#genshin impact
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Our Souls
Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader
Summary: His Dark Materials inspired AU. As a well-known scholar, you’re invited to a gala at Lord Morozova’s estate. What you don’t expect is for the man himself to show a particular interest in you and your dæmon.
Warnings [18+]: mentions of sexual content, Aleksander is very suggestive and alluring, dæmon touching is a metaphor for intimacy and I’m really running with that metaphor, I’m also just twisting up the lore here.
“Well now they’re just showing off,” Fabian, your dæmon, remarks quietly while you observe the host of this gala.
Glancing down at the fox that is your lifelong companion and physical embodiment of your soul, you almost laugh at how primly he’s sitting beside your feet. Then you follow his gaze and find the dæmon of your host.
Lord Aleksander Morozova. His dæmon, a dark wolf with marbled grey fur, sits on the small dais at the side of the room whilst her human counterpart mingles with the crowd.
Standing such a distance from his dæmon is an impressive feat and you’re certain it is some sort of subtle intimidation technique to remind tonight’s guests of his power.
The majority of the people at this gala are scholars and other academics. Their research is all funded by Lord Morozova - as is your own.
There aren’t many of your fellow academics that you would consider your friends. Throughout the night you manage to make some minimal small talk, though you mostly keep to yourself with Fabian as your only company. That was how the two of you liked it.
It’s as you’ve finished a plate full of desserts that the host of this evening approaches you. Once you notice him, you brush down your black dress as subtly as you can, ensuring that you look presentable.
When he inclines his head politely in greeting you mirror the action with a small smile.
“Lord Morozova.”
“Aleksander, please,” he corrects you with a rather kind smile. “You study dæmonology, yes?”
“I do, sir.”
“A fascinating field,” he remarks appraisingly. “I must admit I’ve read most of your papers, you have a rare talent of perception.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The study of dæmons, particularly their behaviour and the relationship between them and their human counterpart has always been an interest of yours. Knowing the meaning behind certain dæmons has always helped you figure out what kind of person you’re talking to.
“Might I ask for your personal analysis?” He gestures down to where his dæmon has appeared.
“A wolf,” you state, the hint of a question at the edge of your tone. He nods encouragingly.
“Yes.”
After pausing for a moment, you recount the general characteristics of someone with a wolf dæmon.
“Strong, intelligent, loyal.”
He surveys you for a long moment, and you begin to fear that you’ve disappointed him, then he remarks,
“If I wanted flattery I would have remained with Miss Nazyalensky.” The amusement in his words fades as he holds your gaze. “Tell me the truth.”
Unable to look away from his dark eyes, a shiver runs down your spine and a strange warmth prickles over your skin - like a flustered sense of embarrassment mixed with an unfamiliar pleasure. Almost breathlessly, you say,
“There’s a violence in your soul. A vicious need to protect and possess. To take down whoever stands in your way, no matter what.”
He hums, approval shining in his eyes as he steps closer.
“And what about your little fox?”
At that, you glance down at Fabian and a bolt of surprise hits your chest as you see Aleksander’s dæmon nuzzling herself against your dæmon. Dark fur brushing firmly against Fabian’s glimmering red.
Hardly able to breathe with the flood of sensations running through your body, you barely notice that Aleksander has taken your chin between his fingers.
To see your dæmons entwined, playing with one another, feels too intimate. Especially in public like this.
“Look at me,” he demands gently. When you do as he says, you almost melt at the casual dominance resting on his features. “Answer the question.”
Words spill from you without any prior thought.
“Foxes are clever. Adaptable and cunning. They enjoy the hunt.”
He smiles darkly.
“It appears your soul is just as vicious as mine, wouldn’t you say?”
He steps closer as Fabian rolls happily onto his back and Aleksander’s dæmon rubs her face enthusiastically over his fluffy underbelly.
Sensing where your gaze has fallen once again, Aleksander breathes out a small huff of laughter at the sight of your dæmons together.
Then he asks in a low voice,
“Have you ever touched a dæmon before?”
Amusement glimmers in his eyes as you inhale sharply in response to his question. Touching someone else’s dæmon is regarded as taboo. Even in an academic context, you’ve never even considered such a thing.
“Surely you of all people should know that it is only common courtesy that prevents us from doing so,” he muses quietly.
Then he lifts a dark brow.
“I’m assuming no one has ever touched your dæmon?”
You shake your head.
“Poor thing,” he coos, stroking your cheek softly. “With consent, it can be quite a pleasurable experience.”
“You want to touch my dæmon?”
The words are stammered and fumbled as they leave your lips but Aleksander smiles indulgently all the same.
“Yes. And I’d very much like you to touch mine.”
Just the thought of sinking your fingers into the thick dark fur, imagining how Aleksander’s eyes might flutter closed, his head tilting back slightly, has you thoroughly enticed.
“Perhaps we could go somewhere more private to continue this discussion,” he suggests.
Holding his gaze for a long moment, you find yourself slipping away from reality, utterly mesmerised by the man in front of you and the feeling of his soul curling around yours. Once again, your eyes drift over to your dæmons.
“What’s her name?” you whisper softly. When the hint of a frown touches at his brows you add, “Your dæmon.”
Something in his expression softens.
“Andromeda.”
The corner of your mouth lifts with a soft smile.
“Pretty name.”
“Thank you.” He tilts his head so that his eyes can bounce between you and your dæmon, then he adds in a low voice, “Fabian, isn’t it?”
A visible shudder rolls through your dæmon as you nod with a dazed look in your eyes.
Aleksander looks almost sympathetic as he observes the state of you, curling each of his hands around your forearms to steady you.
“If you want me to stop this-”
Shaking your head, you interrupt him with a quiet plea.
“No, please, don’t stop.”
“Come with me,” he insists, though he makes no move before you nod in consent. When you do, he breathes out a soft smile and begins to lead you through the throngs of people.
It all passes by in a blur. Aleksander’s arm curled protectively around your waist. Andromeda pressed closely against Fabian as they follow you.
As soon as you reach a deserted hallway, Aleksander is pushing you back against a smooth stone wall. For a moment he watches the heavy rise and fall of your chest, your lips parted and eyes wide as you stare up at him.
His fingers ghost over your lips in a silent question, to which you nod and allow your eyes to flutter closed in anticipation.
Then his mouth descends, meeting yours in a fierce kiss that steals everything from you. Mind filled nothing but thoughts of him, you grasp tightly onto the front of his kefta to support yourself and bring him closer. The way he takes the air from your lungs makes you dizzy.
He withdraws slowly, after several more lengthy kisses that pick apart your sanity piece by piece with every movement of his lips. When he does half his assault, he doesn’t go far, your noses brushing together delicately.
“My apologies,” he murmurs, his own breathing ragged as he rests his forehead against yours. “I had intended on making it to my quarters before doing that.”
The smile that spreads over your face is rather giddy as you laugh softly. His own smile is boyish, with a twinkle of amusement sparkling in his dark eyes.
He noses affectionately at your cheek, tilting his head so that he can press kisses along your jawline.
“They appear to be enjoying themselves,” he observes lightly.
Following his gaze, you see Fabian and Andromeda curled around one another on the floor. Fabian nips playfully at her ear and a low sound rumbles from Andromeda. Little pink tongues flicker over fur as they continue to pet each other.
It’s rare for dæmons to get along so well. Even the dæmons of married couples aren’t as forthright as yours are right now.
“We must be quite compatible,” you suggest.
His body presses firmly against yours and you can feel his hardness digging into your stomach. It makes sense that the sensations you’re experiencing are also being felt by him. After all, your dæmon is just as eager as his is to touch and play with one another.
Still, you’re surprised to see the usually reserved Lord Morozova look so unravelled - by you.
His hands are firm on your body as he all but drags you down the corridor, stopping occasionally to kiss you against a wall or a closed door. The idea that someone might see you both has a warmth prickling under your skin.
Then you reach his rooms.
He closes the door behind you, pressing you against the dark stained wood. Caging you between his arms, he stares at you for a long moment. Leaning in slowly, he brushes his lips lightly against yours.
His delicate touch, after the almost violent hunger displayed in the hallways, makes you moan quietly, filled to the brim with yearning and desire.
“Aleksander,” you whisper against his lips. “Please.”
He steps away and you whimper.
Shrugging his kefta from his shoulders, you watch as he hangs it over a chair and begins to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. He toes off his expensive dress shoes and unbuttons the top few shirt buttons to reveal a generous amount of his bare chest.
Then he reclined himself casually over his bed, propping himself up with an elbow resting against the mattress.
“Fabian, come here.”
There is a moment of hesitation from your dæmon. People don’t usually address them directly and your poor soul seems conflicted. But curiosity and the need for Aleksander seems to win him over.
Inhaling shakily, you watch as he trots across the room towards the bed, leaping up in a nimble motion, before he approaches Aleksander.
Aleksander’s eyes flicker up to where you’re frozen by the closed door.
“This distance doesn’t hurt you, does it?” he asks.
You shake your head. Some people are better than others at maintaining distance from their dæmon. Some can barely move a few feet without feeling a sting of pain, whilst other dæmons can wander into other rooms without any discomfort.
Aleksander nods in acknowledgement.
Then he brushes his hand delicately over Fabian’s fur. Nearly choking on your breath, you gasp and lean heavily against the door. Both Fabian and Aleksander watch you intently.
“You can join us,” Aleksander suggests with a soft smile.
In all honesty you’re not sure if you can walk steady. Then Andromeda licks your hand in affectionate encouragement. Staring wide-eyed down at Aleksander’s dæmon, you give her a tentative pat on the head.
Aleksander hums softly in pleasure and you smooth your fingers over the soft fur at the top of her head before you scratch gently behind her ear. He groans lowly, his eyes fluttering closed as he inhales deeply.
Stumbling a little, you move hurriedly over to Aleksander’s bed, tugging at your heels and discarding them carelessly. He smiles widely as you lie down beside him on your back.
Fabian presses himself against you immediately and you curl your arms around his body as he drapes himself over your chest. The familiar weight soothes you and instantly both of you relax.
“You have quite the bond,” Aleksander observes quietly.
Self-consciously, you bury your face down into the fur of your dæmon.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he assures you, threading his hand through Fabian’s fur. “Too many teenagers shun their dæmon in an attempt to seem more of an adult. Evidently, you didn’t do such a thing.”
You shake your head.
After your dæmon settles, it’s generally thought that you should limit talking to and touching them in public. Some people even think in private your dæmon should remain reserved. That’s something you’ve never believed in. Fabian is your soul - the two of you are the only ones you can rely on. Pushing him away would hurt too much.
There are lonely nights where nothing except his weight on your chest and the softness of his fur against your fingers can help quieten your mind. He gives you some of the best advice and you can’t imagine life with a dæmon you couldn’t talk to.
The distance Aleksander is able to put between himself and his dæmon is impressive, but his admiration of your bond with Fabian makes you wonder.
“You and Andromeda…” you begin slowly. “Are you separated?”
He seems impressed by your observation, though there is a touch of sadness in his eyes. Some people purposefully separate themselves from their dæmons, whilst sometimes it happens during a trauma.
“Not quite,” he says in a quiet voice. “Even before she settled, my mother insisted that I should be able to move a great distance without my dæmon.”
Andromeda noses against your side and you can’t stop yourself from giving the poor dæmon some affection. The idea of Aleksander’s mother encouraging them to be parted at such a young age makes your heart ache.
“It’s taken us several years to rebuild our bond,” he admits as he rests his hand against the dark fur of his dæmon.
The two of them seem so in tune with one another, it’s startling to think that their bond had to be recreated as an adult.
“Fabian thought it was a power display,” you remark. “Publicly putting that much distance between you both.”
“I did not,” your dæmon grumbles in a small murmur. At that, you give him a pointed look of disagreement.
Aleksander chuckles.
“He was right. If people see how much distance I can put between myself and Andromeda, they will wonder what else I am capable of.”
Fabian turns his head to look at Aleksander and in response he curls his fingers under your dæmon’s chin. He scrapes his blunt nails through the short hairs there before he moves his attention back to you.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
Sighing in pleasure, you smile softly.
“Good.”
He hums in approval.
“You’re doing very good. A lot of people lose consciousness the first time their dæmon is touched.”
You frown.
“Really?”
He nods.
The silence is comfortable between you both as you continue to gently pet one another’s dæmon. Occasionally, your dæmons will give each other some attention, murmuring quietly to one another as they nuzzle and lick at their faces and fur.
Soon they’ve settled in the space between you and Aleksander. Fabian pressed against Aleksander’s ribs whilst Andromeda rests her side against your stomach. Both you and Aleksander have turned on your sides to face one another and watch your dæmons.
“Shouldn’t you be at your gala?” you ask him quietly. He shakes his head.
“I can’t think of a single person there that would deserve more of my attention than you do.”
His words set a fire within you and your gaze drifts down to his lips.
“Aleksander…”
“No.”
“You don’t know what I was going to say,” you protest weakly.
He chuckles.
“I do. And the answer is no.” Both you and Fabian huff lightly. “As much as I want to…” He traces his thumb over your lower lip. “You’re not thinking clearly and I won’t take advantage of that.”
“But-”
“No buts. If you need a moment to yourself I can draw you a bath.”
Blinking in confusion, you frown at him.
“A bath?”
He hums with a small smirk.
“Or I can wait in my study, for however long you need, if you would prefer my bed.”
The frown on your face deepens.
“Are you…?”
His smile widens into something that makes your stomach flip. He takes his hand away from where he’s been petting Fabian and traces his fingers gently over your cheek.
“I’m telling you to touch yourself, darling. You’ll feel better once you do.”
A burning blush floods through your body. The thought of touching yourself in Aleksander’s rooms makes you a little embarrassed, especially when you imagine accidentally making a mess of his sheets.
“Can I have a bath?” you ask shyly.
He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Of course.”
-
marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire @dhampiravidi
S&B Tag List: @motheroffae
Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @veescorneroftheworld
BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters
#aleksander morozova#aleksander morozova x reader#the darkling x reader#the darkling au#shadow and bone au#shadow and bone x reader#the darkling moodboard
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Largely for reference, the conversations Jaheira's kids have with each other. Rion talks to Fig and Tate, Jord talks to Jhessem (and the plants); there's four bits of dialogue each.
Rion and Fig
"Poor dummy. Look at its arms - it just wants a hug."
"That's why it keeps losing. Dummy."
-
"Am I supposed to pretend that sword you're swinging wasn't stolen from my room?"
"Wrong. It's completely different."
"Funny. Because it looks just like the one I stole from mum when I was your age."
-
"Good. But you'll need to learn more than just the Harper forms."
"Is that why they threw you out? Because you didn't like their forms?"
"They didn't throw me out. I left. There was just… more to be learned elsewhere."
"Like the Flaming Fist?"
"No, now they threw me out."
-
"When can I move on to a real sword?"
"Oh, stop sulking. I had to teach myself in secret when I started. Mum didn't want to 'force me into the same life'."
"When did she change her mind?"
"About the third time I knocked her on her arse."
-
Rion and Tate
"Hey. You alright up here?"
"Yeah. I'll come down soon. Sorry."
"Don't need you to be sorry. Just checking that you're all right."
-
"You going to eat with us today?"
"I'm not… I'm not hungry. Really."
"Ah. Well, I could use a hand with the washing up - last time I let Fig do it, she blunted my best knife slaying 'soap-mephits'."
"Heh. All right."
-
"Would you like a book? I can have Jhessem drop one up. Maybe she'll even read it with you."
"Jhess…? Eh, no. That's all right. I'm all right."
"What if I tell her not to do the goblin voice?"
"I guess… that would be okay."
-
"You don't need to watch the door, you know. No one's getting in that we don't want to."
"They don't need to get past the door. They could just b-board it up and burn the place."
"True, I suppose. But you have something out there that you didn't, in your last house."
"…Fig."
"Fig."
Jord and Jhessem
"Bootprints on the tabletop. You haven't been poking around the top shelves again - have you, Jhessem?"
"Of course not. Her diaries are off-limits."
"And written in code too, I'm afraid."
"I know. It's not a very good code."
-
"Well, what are we reading now? More Alaundo?"
"No. I'm looking for any histories about this Absolute."
"I wouldn't bother. It's a new god - unknowable and mysterious."
"It's just another cult. And cults are common as muck."
"Huh. So sayeth the wise Jhessem."
-
"Try that hand-bill on fungal poultices. We might be tending the injured here before long."
"Perhaps you should brush up on the herb-lore yourself, Jord. Mother's vines are looking a little weedy."
"Why are the quiet ones always the cruellest?"
-
"That reminds me. I'm working on our family tree - I've already placed Rion. You're next."
"Hah. Well, I'm afraid you won't find us dangling from any of the same branches, sproutling."
"So we'll graft on another. A druid should know how to do that, shouldn't he?"
"I… suppose he should, at that."
Jord to plants
"You three have been just guzzling the water recently. Save some for the others, all right?"
"Coming along nicely there, Floki. Good, strong roots."
"Those leaves are a little darker than I'd like, Felicis. Bad soil? Hm. Don't tell mother…"
"Oh, come on, Ferdinand, I just trimmed you."
-
Rion and Jord are definitely trying their best to be big siblings! Rion is very gentle with Tate (who, from that last dialogue, seems to have experienced some trauma before being adopted by Jaheira - there's a letter that suggests his biological parents were amongst the first taken by the cult), Jhessem is a character, Jord and his plants are adorable, and Rion and Fig are very much cut from the same cloth.
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A Black Walnut Wand
Ominis Gaunt x Reader/MC
Word Count: 3.4k
Summary: A wand made of Black Walnut can be a finicky thing---if the wielder isn't truthful, whether with themselves or with others, it's power diminishes.
So it's just absolutely perfect when her wand starts acting up right before N.E.W.T.S., isn't it?
Warnings: Little angst I guess
A/N: I was researching wand lore and came across this info and couldn't stop thinking about it's potential to be used in the classic "suddenly she realized she was in love this whole time" so here you go :)
At first she thought it was just stress making her magic go awry. That would have made sense—N.E.W.T.s were fast approaching, and what seventh year wouldn’t be going through hell with exams that would literally define their lives in the not-so-far-off future. But even when she went to Nurse Blainey and got a Calming Draught to try to get a little spellwork practiced, she was still getting nothing.
It was then she came to the conclusion that something must be wrong with her wand. It had served her perfectly well for over two years—never had she had a single issue with it. Something had changed, and she had no idea what. She couldn’t remember dropping it or damaging it in any way, and a close inspection revealed it looked as good as new. But it had to be her wand—there was no other explanation.
She tried to hide it for a bit, but it was hard with all of her friends constantly asking to study together. Poppy wanted help with Charms. Sebastian with Transfiguration. And Ominis simply insisted he couldn’t do any studying on Defense Against the Dark Arts without her. Spells she had mastered years ago were suddenly nothing but a sad shower of sparks, shocking each of her friends when they saw it.
“What on earth was that?” Sebastian said. She had just tried to transform a rat into a tea kettle, but nothing happened besides a small red flash. She buried her face in her hands.
Ominis sat across from her, his face set in a deep frown. “I still hear squeaking… You said the incantation right, perhaps the wand movement?”
“It’s my wand,” she bemoaned. “I think there’s something wrong with it.”
Sebastian lunged forward, taking the wand from her hand and performing the same inspections she had at least a dozen times over. “It looks just fine,” he concluded.
She groaned. “I know it does. But I’ve tried everything else I can think of. I must have hit it or something, or… I don’t know.”
“Have you taken it in to Ollivander’s?” Ominis asked.
“No, I haven’t. What if he tells me I need a new wand?” She frowned at the idea. “I don’t want a new one. I like this one. Or at least I did when it was working.”
“I don’t really see how you have much of a choice,” Ominis said, resting his hand on her arm. “Not with N.E.W.T.s coming up.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his reminder. “Don’t say that. It’s just going to make me feel worse.”
Ominis chuckled a bit. “I’m not trying to make you feel worse. I’m trying to talk some sense into you.”
“I hate it when you’re logical.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes at the two of them. “Get a room, would you?”
She shot him a glare. “I’ll get it figured out soon enough. In the meantime, we can brush up on some theory.”
The three of them kept studying together, and she couldn’t help but notice that Ominis kept his attention at least partially on her the whole time. He kept tilting his head toward her, brows furrowing. She tried not to let it get to her.
By the time they decided to call it quits, the common room was mostly cleared out. Her head was spinning with all the terms and definitions she was struggling to memorize as she packed up her books. Before she left for her dorm, Ominis caught her arm.
“Wait,” he said as she turned back to him.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Go to Ollivander’s tomorrow, will you?” he said. “I know how much you love your wand. I completely understand the feeling. But… but I wouldn’t want you to fail your exams because of it.”
She let out a sigh, hearing his concern in his voice. “I know,” she said softly. “It’s silly. He might even be able to fix it. I’ll go tomorrow.”
His shoulders lost a bit of their tension. “Good. If I can help at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Her stomach flipped at his kindness. “I’ll let you know.”
He nodded a bit. “Goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight.”
They parted ways, and soon she flopped down on her bed with a sigh, the place where he’d held her arm still burning like fire.
-
She bit her lip as she stood outside the shop, holding her wand and tapping it against her other palm. After a moment, she walked inside, bell dinging as the door opened.
It was cluttered in there, as usual. Wand boxes filled the cubbies in the walls from floor to ceiling. The front desk was vacant for only a moment before Mr. Ollivander came from the back.
“Hello, Miss,” he greeted, glancing between her nervous face and the wand in her hands. “I take someone is having some troubles with their wand?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir. N.E.W.T.S. are coming up, and it’s just not working like usual. It’s hardly working at all, I’m afraid.”
“Care to give me a quick demonstration?”
She lifted her wand, pointing it to one of the wand boxes on his desk. “Wingardium Leviosa!”
The box did not levitate. All that happened was a small trail of smoke leaving the tip of her wand. She sighed.
“I see,” Mr. Ollivander said, reaching out a hand toward her. “May I?”
She handed him her wand, and soon he was carefully looking it over.
“Dragon heartstring,” he said softly. “Nine and a quarter inches, brittle, and… ah.”
She frowned. Was there some crack or something she had missed?
He met her eyes. “The wood is Black Walnut.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, not understanding why this should have been significant to her.
“Black Walnut wands are a little picky,” Mr. Ollivander said. “They are very careful about who they choose to align themselves with. They are very attuned to inner conflict.”
A small sense of dread started trickling down her spine. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means the power of the wand diminishes when its wielder practices any form of self-deception,” he continued. “And if the owner is not honest with themself—or others—for an extended period of time, it may not work at all.”
Her heart dropped. “I didn’t—I’m not trying to—there’s… there’s nothing I’m lying about.”
“Perhaps you simply don’t recognize it as such yet.”
She frowned, not able to meet his eyes. “Does that mean I need a new wand?”
“Not yet, at least,” he answered. “I sense this wand’s allegiance still lies with you. But be careful—much longer and it might not favor you anymore.”
He held my wand back out to her, and she took it with a moment of hesitation. All he said had left her head spinning all the way back to the castle. What on earth had she been lying about? A thought nagged at the back of her mind, but she pushed it away out of habit. No. Not that. It couldn’t be that.
She felt like she had no more of a solution than she had left with as she sat down in the library, pulling out her books. Might as well study some of the material that didn’t use wandwork, she figured. But she couldn’t concentrate on the words, thoughts still back in the wand shop. Well, they were until a figure plopped down in the seat across from her.
“Have you gone to Hogsmeade yet?” Sebastian asked.
She nodded, closing her textbook with a sigh.
Her friend waited for a moment, expecting her to explain. “...Well?”
She gave a frustrated shrug. “He told me it’s my wand. It’s made of Black Walnut, apparently, which is a tricky sort of wood I guess.” She frowned. “He said… well he said it doesn’t like to work if someone is… not being truthful.”
Sebastian leaned forward on the table, brows furrowed. “Are you saying your lying about something?”
“Not exactly. I mean, maybe not to you. Or maybe it is. I haven’t got a clue.” She laid her head down on the desk in defeat. “I could be lying to myself. I haven’t got the faintest idea.”
Sebastian couldn’t help but chuckle at her frustration. “Are you sure you haven’t got any idea?”
“Yes,” she answered. She peeked up a bit, looking at him. “Why? Do you think you know something?”
“I have some… suspicions,” he said slowly.
“What are they?” she asked, sitting up fully once more. “Come on, if you think you might know something, you’ve got to help me!”
“I’m not so sure you’ll like my answer,” he said, a smirk on his face.
“I don’t care if I like it or not. My entire future sort of depends on this.”
“Promise you won’t be mad at me?” he asked.
“I promise,” she said quickly.
He leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “I think it has something to do with you being in love with Ominis.”
Her jaw dropped. “I’m not—”
“Don’t you lie now,” Sebastian said teasingly. “That hasn’t really worked out well for you so far, has it?” He nodded down to your wand sitting on the table.
“I’m not lying!” she fired back. “I don’t know why you would say that, I’m not…”
But even then, she couldn’t force the denial out of her mouth.
“Right,” Sebastian said, grinning. “Seems like you’re lying to all of us. Yourself most of all.”
She stood up quickly, the chair she was on making a loud noise as it fell back. “You’re delusional.”
“Am not.”
Her hands rushed to pack up her books, shoving them angrily into her bag, glaring at Sebastian all the while. “Yes you are. Whatever you think you see, you don’t. So shut up about it.” She threw the bag over her shoulder, walking away.
“Good luck with your wand,” he called after her, a slight taunt in his voice.
She couldn’t get out of there soon enough.
-
“Confringo!”
No flames leapt from her wand. Just a couple pathetic sparks, and she let out a frustrated grown. The brazier on the far side of the Undercroft remained stubbornly unlit, despite her repeated attempts to set it ablaze.
“I take it your trip wasn’t as successful as we hoped?”
She whirled around, seeing Ominis entering the space. After the initial shock, sighed. “No,” she said softly.
He hummed softly in disappointment, sitting down on one of the crates against the wall. He patted the spot beside him, and she hesitated for only a moment before taking the spot. Her mind was still racing from the conversation she’d just had with Sebastian. It made her feel strange sitting next to Ominis. Which was ridiculous, because she wasn’t…
“I’m sorry you haven’t figured it out yet,” he said softly. She was confused for a moment, wondering if he had read her thoughts, then realized he was talking about her wand.
“It’ll be fine, I’m sure,” she said softly. The tone of her voice gave her nerves away.
“It will be,” he said, his tone much more reassuring than her own. He tilted his head toward her, and offered a small smile. “You’ve gotten through much worse.”
“Only because you’ve been there for me,” she said. And she realized it was true. Each time things came crumbling down, he’d been there to lift her back up, even if he did it with sarcastic words and exasperated sighs. It was even better that way, she thought.
His smile widened a bit. “You’d be helpless without me, wouldn’t you?”
She could only chuckle, because it was true.
His expression softened a bit. “I’ll always be there for you.”
And as he said those words, as her eyes traced over the lines of his face she had long since memorized, it hit her.
She loved him.
She wanted to look away from him, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything but stare into those blue eyes, wanting nothing more to drown in them—realizing that she’d wanted that for a while now. She wanted to be wrapped in his arms. To feel his lips brush over hers. To spill every last bit of her heart out to him, to fall apart and let her broken pieces get tangled with his.
“Thank you, Ominis,” was all she could say, voice softer than she had ever heard it. If he thought it was odd, he made no comment.
He changed the topic, bringing up Herbology studies, and she listened to him with a hazy mind. She’d lied for herself long enough. But now the truth might eat her alive.
-
Sebastian was leaning back in his chair the next morning when she found him in the library.
“You were right,” she said.
He nearly fell back, just barely catching himself. “And you’re admitting that? Freely?”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it or I’ll hex you.”
He grinned. “So is your wand working again?”
“Not quite,” she admitted. “But I’ll steal yours off of you and use that instead if I’ll have to.”
He chuckled lightly. “I get it, I’m threatened. See? You and Ominis are a perfect match.”
She blushed, but continued frowning down at him. “Shut up.”
“You need to tell him.”
Her eyes widened, her stomach churning at the thought. “What?”
“You said your wand still isn’t working,” he pointed out. “If you tell him, it’ll probably fix it.”
“I–I can’t do that,” she said quickly, panic building up inside her chest. “I’m not going to ruin our friendship over my stupid wand.”
“I don’t think it’ll ruin it,” Sebastian said, smirking a bit.
“You don’t know that,” she said.
“I was right about you being in love with him, wasn’t I?”
“And wrong about just about everything else in life.”
He crossed his arms, smug look on his face. “Trust me, I’m right this time.”
Her mind raced. Did that mean Ominis would understand? That’d these feelings would ruin what they had? Or was it even possible that he felt… that he felt the same…
She snapped out of it. She couldn’t entertain that thought. It would hurt too much when it was proven untrue. But she knew Sebastian was right. If she wanted even a chance of passing a single one of her exams…
“I’ll tell him,” she said softly, defeated. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
The next few days passed in a blur. Suddenly, exams weren’t a couple weeks away—they were days away. And she was still trying to prepare with a bum wand.
Because every time she found herself alone with Ominis, her breath caught in her throat. Everytime she opened her mouth to finally say the words, they fled, leaving her mouth empty and her heart aching.
It didn’t help that Ominis had seemed to want to spend more time with her. He worried more and more about her wand, having absolutely no clue he was the cause of its malfunction.
It was now five days before the first exam, and Ominis was pacing in the Undercroft as she sat on the ground watching him. She felt horrible having him worry like this when she held the solution on the tip of her tongue, but the task given to her felt impossible.
“Maybe we should just go get you a new wand,” he said. “There might be a bit of a learning curve, but you’ll be able to overcome it.”
She had to tell him. It was driving both of them mad. “Ominis.”
“It’s pretty late tonight, I’m not sure Ollivander’s is open at this hour. We’ll have to go in the morning.”
“Ominis.”
“I’m sure there’ll be another wand there for you, I’ve never heard of anyone not finding one, but—”
“Ominis.”
He finally stopped his pacing, head tilting to the side as he stood in place.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Could… could you come over here? I need to talk to you.”
He tensed up immediately, but did as she asked, coming down to the floor beside her. “What is it?”
Her knees came up to tuck against her chest. “I haven’t been completely honest with you,” she started. “I… I think I know how to fix my wand.”
His brows furrowed. “You… what?”
“I know how to fix it. I just don’t know how to do it.”
He frowned. “You know how, but you don’t know how?”
“No! I mean—Merlin, why is this so hard—I know what I need to do to fix it, I just don’t know how I’m supposed to do the thing that fixes it.”
“I’m lost.”
She let out a loud groan, burying her face in her hands. “Just… let me start over.”
Ominis sat beside her, patiently waiting for her to gather her thoughts.
“I went to Ollivander’s a while back, right?” she started.
“Right,” Ominis said slowly. “But he didn’t have much to say, didn’t he?”
“That’s… not entirely true,” she admitted. “He told me my wand is Black Walnut. That it doesn’t work if the wielder is lying, to themselves or others. He couldn’t tell me what I was being untruthful about, of course, which made it pretty useless seeing as I didn’t have a clue what it was about at the time.”
“But you know now?” Ominis asked.
She was quiet for a moment. “Yes. I figured it out.”
She looked at him, taking him in in case this was the last time she got to do it. She took in the slight unevenness of his nose, the curve of his full bottom lip. The beauty marks laid out on his cheeks. The one strand of hair that fell away from the rest, begging her to brush it back.
“I need to tell you,” she said softly. “I can’t lie about it anymore. To myself. To you.”
He was clearly nervous, no doubt having a million thoughts of what it could be running through his head. She wondered if any came close to the truth.
“I love you, Ominis.”
Just like that, she saw all those racing thoughts cease. Her heart pounded in her chest, trying to read every part of his expression, waiting for anger, disgust, betrayal. But it morphed into the last thing she expected—a grin, one of his rare ones that stretched across his whole face.
And even more surprising, he began to laugh.
She couldn’t help but be hurt, deciding she rather have had him yell at her instead of laugh at her. She got to her feet, starting toward the door.
“Wait!” he called out, standing and grabbing her wrist with frightening precision for a blind man. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at what you said. It’s just I’ve been worried sick about your wand this whole time, and the problem happened to be the thing I’ve wanted the most.”
“The thing you wanted the most,” she echoed, turning back to him. He was still smiling, but it had softened. “You… you wanted me to love you?”
“Of course,” he said, stepping closer. His grip on her wrist slipped down to take her hand. “Seeing how I love you, too.”
Her stomach flipped as she took in his face, closer to hers than it had ever been. Ominis brought up his other hand, letting it rest on her cheek. “I’ve loved you for some time now,” he said softly.
“Me, too,” she said, voice no more than a whisper. “Though I was a bit of an idiot in realizing it.”
“Good thing I love idiots. You and Sebastian prove that plenty.”
She chuckled a bit, but it died on her lips as he leaned his face toward hers. He was only a breath away.
“May I…”
She didn’t let him finish his question, cutting him off by pressing her lips to his. He’d been caught off guard, but it didn’t stop him from returning the kiss immediately. The hand on her face brought her closer, and his fingers tangled themselves in her hair. Her hands rested on his shoulders, trying to remind herself how to stand properly. Each brush of his lips felt like coming undone. Every touch of his fingertips set her world aflame.
And when they pulled away, trying in vain to catch their breath, she felt alive for the first time.
Then a thought crossed her mind, and she groaned, burying her head in Ominis’s shoulder. “What’s that about, love?”
“I’m going to have to tell Sebastian he was right. Again.”
She felt his chuckle rise up from his chest. “A hefty price to pay. But I think it was worth it.”
He lifted her face to kiss her once again, and she couldn’t help but agree.
#ominis gaunt x reader#ominis gaunt x mc#ominis gaunt#ominis x reader#ominis x mc#ominis gaunt x you#hogwarts legacy#ominis gaunt imagine#hogwarts legacy ominis
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“Solas?“
“Yes, Vhenan."
“What are you drawing?“
He still has his eyes on the piece of parchment in front of him, but slows down the repetetive movements of his hand tracing the shapes on paper, as if that might offer him more time to find his answer. "Oh, just some practice. It helps me sort my thoughts," he says with the casual air of somebody trying to evade a question.
“Can I see, then?“
He glances up briefly and notices she has stopped reading her book on the early history of Neromanian magic. She has one elbow propped up on the table and rests her chin on her hand. She is looking at him expectantly, her book clearly forgotten.
He pauses the scratchy movements of his pencil and says rather hesitantly.
"It's not finished."
She leans forward a bit more, trying to catch a glimpse at his paper. He subtly angles it away from her. She might have barely noticed, had she not noted his newfound secrecy regarding his recent drawings. She has become increasingly curious over the past few weeks, and his forced casual demeanor after her question only fills her with more anticipation.
It makes her think of the first time he showed her his artwork. …
The first time she had walked into the rotunda in Skyhold and found Solas high up on the scaffolding with a paint brush in his hands and a concentrated look on his face, she was surprised to learn of his motivation.
"History needs to be documented," he had said when she asked him what he was working on.
After climbing down the scaffolding and taking a step back to admire the process of his work, he continued, "Not by the words of diplomats, but through the eyes of those skilled in artistry. Words will be forgotten, but images? Those will hold significance across time."
She had been moved then. By the bold lines in the fresco and the fierce look in his eyes as he regarded her as he spoke. Like she was someone worthy of admiration. Like he truly saw her. It reminded her of his words before their first kiss.
'You change everything.' He had said.
She didn't really believe him then. She didn't want to be put on a pedestal, far removed from the world and the simple and nomadic lifestyle of her clan that she was accustomed to. She missed roaming mountains and hills, not fighting blighted Templars and navigating treacherous games of power with nobles. That life had seemed like such a long time ago, even though it had barely been a year.
But perhaps she didn't need to suffer though all of this alone. She had her friends. Dorian with his jokes. Varric with his stories. Cassandra with her quiet support and camaderie. Iron Bull helping her with her fighting stances and teaching her new drinking games with Cullen. Even Cole, though he was still figuring out what the word friend even meant. She would help him with that, she had decided then. Friends; they made the aching pull of homesickness more bearable.
But Solas.
Who was he to her? She could call him her friend the supposed. She had the feeling they were becoming closer and yet there was an undeniable distance. Always leaving space for interpretation and mystery while never backing away from any of her questions. So much knowledge he shared, and still she had the feeling she barely knew him at all. He had slowly and unknowingly developed a talent for surprising her with new insights and he did so later again that same evening.
The next hour passed quickly while they were still talking about art and the different depictions of elven lore. He had stared at her intently for a moment, considering her.
"I want to show you something." he had said.
She never passed up an opportunity to learn more so she had indulged him, following him to a plain-looking crate to the side of the room. He removed the protective wards with a wave of his hand. He then uncovered some, by the looks of it, handbound books. He observed them one by one carefully, with a nod of acceptance when he seemingly found what he was looking for and handed her one of the books.
As she opened the first few pages she discovered they were sketchbooks filled with rough outlines in preparation for the next installment of the mural.
Excitedly he pointed to notes in the margin and spoke of where he learned the techniques for collecting and grinding his own pigments. There was a red ocre in the Western Approach that he had recently discovered on one of their missions which was apparently incredibly well suited for his purpose. At her encouragement he had shown her more of of his other drawings too. First of symbolism and color studies, but then more personal ones: of the views of the mountains from Skyhold, running Halla, drying herbs and even of some of the members of the inquisition she recognized.
In turn she told him about how she used to carve wood, especially when winters were rough and her clan was stuck in the same place for long waiting out the biting cold and punishing snow. To keep her fingers from freezing and her mind from wandering to dark places, she had started to carve.
"I haven't had the time since, well you know, this whole mess." she waved the fingers of her marked hand which flashed a sliver of green. Solas had looked thoughtful after her comment, almost like there was a tinge of regret behind his eyes.
The conversation steered in a different direction afterwards, like the seriousness of their predicament weighted more heavily on their shoulders than before. The mysterious books disappeared back into the chest and not long after she had excused herself and called it a night. Somehow she couldn't shake the feeling she had overstepped.
A few days later she returned from a short scouting mission. She climbed the steps to her sleeping quarters, exhausted. She hardly noticed there was an odd-shaped package leaning against her bedroom door until she almost stumbled over it. Her tiredness trading itself for curiosity, she moved to pick it up.
There was no note attached but once she unwrapped the bundle she discovered a beautiful and distinctive elven carving knife and a solid piece of oak wood.
She couldn't help the warm feeling that spread though her body, feeling the comforting weight of the wood and the cool metal of the knife in her hands.
….
She shakes her head as she's brought back to the present. That same rotunda they have since spend so much of their time together. Researching, reading and talking. There had been barely an evening where she didn't end up in the rotunda with Solas. At least when she wasn't away from Skyhold, trying to save the world on missions throughout Thedas.
She looks at Solas from her spot at the table with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
It takes a lot of effort to hide her smile.
Whith an amused tilt to the corner of her lips she says, "You know, Dorian told me he found some sketchbooks laying around, depicting a rather familiar elf. Anything you would know about that?"
Is he… Is he blushing?
"Um, Well you see." he cleares his throat trying to school his expression. "Those were private… And hidden for a reason."
She can't contain a smile. Solas flustered, that's a rare sight.
"You've seen them?" he askes quietly. She notices he has started fumbling with the edges of the paper. She didn't believe his ears could turn a brighter shade of pink.
"Maybe," she says while averting her eyes to the ceiling. She glances back to him out of the corner of her eyes.
Solas looks at her like she has grown an extra pair of ears.
She leans back in her chair and stretches out her legs comfortably under the table. Knowing she has him she doesn't want to push more and decides to spare him some of her teasing. She turns to look at him and softens her expression.
"I rather liked them."
Knowing that is probably not enough to explain why she had looked at his private belongings without permission and seeing the dumbfounded expression on his face slowly making space for embarrassment she decides to tell the whole story.
"I know shouldn't have overstepped, but Dorian said he had something urgent to discuss and before I was even halfway up the stairs he assaulted me with flying books, shouting about discovering my secret admirer. Either I would have stumbled to death or caught them. And, well… Once I started looking I couldn't look away… " she trails off with a slight tinge of shame in her voice.
"You liked them?“
She lookes at him, surprised by the hopefulness in his voice.
A wave of understanding washes over her.
He hid the drawings from her, not because he didn't want her to see them but because he was afraid of her rejection. Even though they had spent the last few months becoming more and more tangled up with each other, stealing fleeting glances and sometimes passionate kisses, they still hadn't really taken a moment to talk about what there was between them.
When she saw the drawings he made of her she had finally understood his interest in her was genuine and went beyond anything resembling a casual dalliance - something she can now confess to have been rather afraid of, because she had developed deeper feelings for him from the moment he started sharing detailed stories dreamt in the fade and his perspective on magic intertwined with life. And then there had been that first kiss… Wel let's just say she's in way too deep to turn back now.
And for all the effort he put into keeping emotional distance between them, he had apparently failed from the moment he had started putting her likeless on paper. For she could see the passion and emotion in the lines, soft shadows and hidden meanings. It made them stand out from all the other drawings she had seen by his hand.
What he couldn't yet put into words, he had found a different way of showing.
"Yes I-" suddenly feeling unsure she pauses for a moment and crosses her arms looking for the right words. "The drawings, they reminded me of who I could be." She takes a deep breath finds her courage and continues. "Someone who people will tell stories about. Not stories about Divine intervention, but of an elven woman's fight for justice. For a kinder world. Somehow I never really managed to see myself that way when I look in the mirror. But those drawings… I guess it's easier to understand who I've become by seeing myself through your eyes. To see the change I'm part of, but most of all to remind myself of where I came from."
She had uncrossed her arms and angled her body towards him over the table. A determined expression rests on her face. He hadn't taken his eyes of her from the moment she started talking.
He looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, considering his reply.
"Very well" he says while some of the tension visibly drains away from his body. She raises her eyebrows in question. "Then it's only time you started showing me your carvings in return. Some good blocks of wood have gone missing. I overheard Blackwall complaining about recently." He shares the accusations with a bemused smile on his lips.
Now it was her turn to blush.
"I was planning on showing you, but first I wanted to practice… " she trailed off her sentence, knowing she doesn't actually have a valid excuse for hiding it from him. And it was not like she hadn't backed him into a corner first.
Feeling relieved he wasn't pulling away at her recent discovery she changes her mind with newfound courage and stands up abruptly while extending her hand in invitation. The purpose of their late night reading session forgotten.
"You're right. And I'm willing to offer you a tour of my recent carving exploits, but only if you can refrain from commenting over the woodchips carpeting the floor." He starts to move as if to get up but she makes him pause as she isn't done yet. "But in turn I will pose for your next drawing." Solas looks at her confused for a moment, as if considering her question.
She pauzes for a moment and adds without hesitation.
"Naked."
"What?"
"That's right."
From a balcony upstairs they could hear some muffled movement followed by a familiar voice echoing down "You know Solas, if you're looking for nude models you only need to ask!"
"Dorian!" they say in unison, horrified.
Solas quickly tucks the sketches under his arm and stands up to grasp her hand, surprising her by pulling her close so fast she has to steady herself with her other hand landing on his chest.
Only a breath away from her ear he says softly so only she can hear.
"It seems like you found yourself a deal, ma Vhenan."
She squeezes his hand in response and when she looks at him there isn't a hint of his previous embarrassment. Instead there is a look of hunger and challenge in his eyes. It's so easy then, to lean over and kiss him, her lips a promise and Dorian's earlier interuption temporarily forgotten. Before she can get lost in the soft press of his lips she pulls back and feels a delighted thrill in the way he slightly chases them as she takes a step back. With a teasing smile on her lips she tugs on his hand bringing him back to reality and encouraging him to follow. As they make their way quietly towards the door she throws a judgemental look over her shoulder towards where she imagines Dorian to be hiding.
She is just able to make out a muffled conversation on the first floor "… These lovesick fools seem to keep forgetting this is a public space, if they don't want an audience they should find a room!"
Not sure if she should be terribly embarrassed or slightly thankful for Dorians intervention she doesn't manage to hide her smile.
"Let's get out of here then." she says as they start to make their way through Skyhold.
He squeezes her hand.
"Gladly."
#solavellan#solavellan hell#solas x female lavellan#solavellen hell#solavellen fanfiction#dragon age inquisition#No one can convince me otherwise that this scene hasnt happened#bioware robbed us from this being a real cutscene in the game#I mean dont you just love the idea of Solas sharing his passion for art and history with lavellan?#and all this time at skyhold#for sure she has run into him a few times covered in paint#and i just love the headcannon that solas ans lavellan forget they have an audiance of Leliana#Dorian and Fiona sharing popcorn and betting on who will make the first move#and you just know the frustration Dorian has felt#seeing the fools in love while they barely make a move at each other aside from fleeting glances#he had to get involved somehow#imagine dorian spending weeks on tearing down the magical wards on that chest#just to findout it filled with portraits of lavellan#LOL#dragon age inquisition fanfic#the dread egg#solas#solasmance#inquisitor lavellan#writing and artwork by me#acrylic ink and finelines on bamboo paper
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Vampiric Thirst
(Old note: Throws this at you guys. Haven’t written in a while. I don’t know if that will change, but I couldn’t help but make this after the whole vampire event. Once more I end up disappointed by Obey Me events. I really need to lower my standards like I do for Ark, because as fun as the concepts can be, every event ends up feeling rushed and half-baked. They’re not gonna stop though because suckers like me will pay money for a dopamine hit because I have no meaning in life.
New note: Obviously taking some liberties to make it so that Solomon does actually have vampiric urges rather than just being a horndog because this game is literally mostly horny, but I crave plot and substance and have no interest in horny. Maybe I don’t want to fuck anyone, maybe I want actual stakes and near-death because if there’s no threat of dying, then what’s the point of living? Anyways, have something started last July, haha. It’s short, but I want it out of my WIP pile where it’s been judging me from the goddamn corner. I have a bunch of lore ideas with this given the events status being introduced after Nightbringers release, but I won’t get into it cause I’d need to refresh myself on OM.)
Word count: 3668
TW/CW: Soft, safe, nonsexual G/t vore, fearplay, blood, bloodsucking (I hate any word with suck in it, but it’s in here), prey in a stomach full of blood
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“Because I’m always craving you, Kat. So much so that I honestly could devour you.”
That… hadn’t really been what I had expected when I asked him why he seemed to be acting odd today when he walked into my room at Cocytus Hall to give me something, kind of freezing when some sort of realization went over him.
I couldn’t help the way my heart picked up the pace anxiously, despite having come across multiple situations similar to this one. Seeing Solomon with a similar hunger to Beel that was uncharacteristic of him made my anxiety spike a bit. “Buuut, you’re not. Right,” I asked nervously, unable to NOT notice the way his eyes glowed slightly as I lowered the book I’d been reading. I couldn’t help but keep my desk chair facing him, something instinctive decidedly not wanting to turn my back to him despite having been in far worse situations.
It didn’t seem to matter much as he touched his throat lightly, stepping slightly closer and replying, “I don’t think I could actually stop myself if I wanted if this keeps up… Kat, I know this is a sudden request but… would you mind if I drank some of your blood?”
“Wha- blood?” I blinked a bit in surprise, feeling a slight epiphany as I realized. “Ooh! I thought Vampiritis couldn’t affect you. Or did your hubris come to bite you?”
I intended no pun, but Solomon still let out a snort of amusement, though he also looked a tad sheepish like I had hit the nail on the head. I had told him that he should still be careful with the brothers himself, but he’d mostly brushed me off and said that he needed to keep his ‘precious apprentice’ from either catching Vampiritis or becoming a human-sized CapriSun to the afflicted demon brothers while that whole situation was figured out. But, it seemed like his rather attentive nature to me hadn’t extended to himself and he ended up contracting Vampiritis despite all boisterous assurances that he wouldn’t.
“Unfortunately, it appears that being around the brothers so much has infected me,” the sorcerer sighed, looking a bit dejected at having contracted the disease. His eyes seemed slightly glazed over and unfocused like he wasn’t fully in the conversation.
“Well, Barbatos might still have some of the antidote,” I replied, seeing him perk up slightly at the reminder, eyes refocusing with his normal clarity from the pretty obvious distractions on his mind. I set my book down on my desk and started to get up, adding, “I'm sure Diavolo will be able to-."
I yelped when there was a sudden weight against my shoulder and I was shoved back into my chair, looking up at Solomon with startled eyes. His own glowed slightly as he unintentionally loomed over me, looking caught off guard at his own actions.
“Uuuuh, Solomon?”
“I'm a bit a-... worried that I may not be able to hold back against my current thirst on the way to Diavolo or Barbatos,” Solomon admitted. “I'm afraid that if something isn't done NOW that I'll quite literally see red.”
“Really? Did you really try to make a shitty joke in the current situation,” I asked, but I couldn't make myself add any bite to it. His grip on my shoulder was firm and I could feel it tightening slightly each second, able to feel the shake in his grasp. Feeling overly aware of him with the proximity, I could barely hear the slight pant beneath his breath. I took a steadying breath of my own. “Look, I'll give you a LITTLE bit of blood. Just enough to hopefully ebb the hunger pangs, alright? Then we can go to Diavolo with your mind clearer.”
He jolted slightly at my suggestion, or maybe it was just my voice, and a conflicted expression passed across his face. He opened his mouth to say something but it didn’t come out for a few seconds, straining before saying, “I… Yes. Yes, perhaps that will help abate the hunger.”
I didn’t like how he hesitated as he said it or how his expression looked both extremely guilty and eager. But, despite the anxious feeling settling in my gut, I trusted him. To a point.
“Alright, well, first of all, you gotta back up a bit there, bud,” I planted a hand against his chest and shoved at him. His lips twitched in the barest frown before allowing himself to be pushed back away from me, giving me some much needed breathing room and some relief from being pinned by my shoulder to the chair. Absentmindedly rubbing the back of my neck, I thought aloud, “I kind of don't really trust you with my neck, so we're gonna go with… a wrist, I think, yeah.”
“R-Right.” Solomon looked like he was barely paying attention, hands shaking slightly as he bit his lip, seemingly trying to keep his mind clear enough. I saw a bead of his own blood from it.
I reached down and began to roll my sleeves up nervously, only slightly comforted by the sight of the protective charm on my right wrist. Once my sleeves were rolled I felt a bit awkward as I kind of held both out towards him. “Uhhhh, take your pick, I guess. Just don't bite too deep? I'm not sure if you could break my wrists by biting them, but I'd like to not test that too much.”
“I'll do my best,” Solomon presumably tried to give me a reassuring smile but it came out as more of a grimace. He gave up pretty quickly and carefully grabbed my left wrist like it'd snap at his touch. If Vampiritis gave him the cliche super-strength that movie vampires had, maybe it was for the best.
I was a bit surprised when the sorcerer kneeled to get better access to my wrist, feeling more than a little awkward - I probably should have stood up or figured something else out before offering my blood to him since he wasn't really in the headspace to think clearly - but the awkwardness was tempered by a familiar squeamishness that settled in the pit of my stomach. It was similar to, but wasn't quite as bad as, the nauseous anxiety I felt anytime I had to get my blood drawn or a shot.
I managed to watch as Solomon raised my wrist slightly to his face, saw him open his mouth to reveal a glimpse of the elongated canines that were a symptom of Vampiritis and felt a bit of his breath against my skin. But I felt myself pale right as he opened his jaws wider and averted my gaze before he bit down, warned by the slight tensing of his hold on my wrist.
There were two points of pain that suddenly bloomed along my wrist vein as the skin was pierced, making me yelp and stiffen. I managed to mostly resist the urge to pull away as I bit down on my tongue, but my heart skipped a beat as a twitch from my arm told me that he probably wouldn't have budged if I had tried to pull away properly.
I swallowed thickly, wondering if he could taste adrenaline in my quickened pulse for a moment before the pain in my wrist faded startlingly quickly. It was cold and numb, like novocaine to my system, and I couldn't help but blink in surprise and look back.
Only to immediately avert my gaze again with a fresh wave of dizziness and queasiness.
"Okay, nope," I muttered to myself, trying to push aside the image of Solomon latched onto my wrist with a thin stream of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and an almost blissful close-eyed expression out of my head. At least one of us was having fun.
Thankfully, it wasn't too long before I heard the small gasp and slight panting as he detached from me. It had maybe been several seconds, probably enough for a full mouthful or two with the smaller veins in my wrist compared to my throat, but it had felt awfully long, and I felt the lingering squeamishness that I knew would remain for the rest of the day.
"I hope that helped clear your head a bit," I pulled my wrist back to myself and gingerly touched a finger to the two beading puncture wounds as I started to turn my head to look at Solomon. My hand had a pins and needles feeling. "I was a bit worried you'd-."
My voice immediately became muffled as my mouth was covered by a hand, eyes widening and crying out in surprise when the force of Solomon lunging upward caused the desk chair to fall back. It hit the desk edge first before sliding to the ground, rattling my skull as the chair back hit the ground, making me grunt from the fall and ending up pinned beneath the feral sorcerer.
"Mmph!" I blinked away my brief daze, looking up at Solomon's face in the shadow of the desk as panic flared across my pacts. His slightly glowing blue eyes were replaced by an intense red and I could see streaks of my own blood from the corners of his mouth. The feral looking expression was something I'd never seen in him before, but I couldn't summon anyone or use a spell with my mouth currently covered.
There was a sharp tug against my neck as my choker was broken off, jolting me from my frozen shock. I squirmed and bucked beneath the sorcerer, twisting up and elbowing him in the face. The man HISSED at me and I took advantage of his surprise to shove his hand off of my mouth. Kicking at his chest to push him off me and retreat further beneath the desk, I began to recite a summoning spell.
"Hear me and heed my call," I exclaimed as quick and clear as I could, feeling a pressure behind my eye. Solomon was sat from where I'd pushed him back, hand against his cheekbone where I'd struck him. His expression went from indignant surprise to one of uncharacteristic, raw fury. I saw him tense like a coil before trying to push forward off the ground to lunge towards me again. I quickly raised my leg, shoe planting firmly against his chest as it barely stopped him, knee almost buckling painfully against the force. “In the name of the sorcerer Katherine, I draw upon my pact with the ring of li-GHT!”
My voice hitched as Solomon grabbed the ankle of the foot against his chest, pulling it to the side and yanking me closer. My heart raced, gritting my teeth as we scuffled in the cramped space beneath the desk. I tried to not fuck up saying the summon, while trying to stop him from stopping ME from saying it, while also trying to get my foot loose and scramble further back again.
“Come forth, Mam-mphf!” I narrowed my eyes and grunted as Solomon let go of my ankle and managed to wrestle both of my wrists in one hand, covering my mouth again with his other. The pressure that had been building behind my eye fizzled out and disappeared dead in its tracks.
The sorcerer wasted no time in descending on me, making me gasp in pain as my throat was bitten. I squirmed but could do nothing as restrained as I was, my pained panting lessening as the numbing began to settle in my neck, my hand still tingling from loss of feeling in the wrist. I heard the first swallow as he began to drink greedily and felt a rush of lightheadedness. Lightheadedness that lingered as more blood was stolen and less was able to reach my head properly, making my thrashing lessen alarmingly fast.
I tried to call out Solomon’s name, to try and appeal to him past the feral fervor that had overtaken him. But, of course, it came out as an easily ignored muffled shout that I barely heard over the blood rushing in my own ears and the sound of gulping.
Time slowed painfully as I remained pinned beneath the sorcerer, the lightheadedness and weak feeling in my body increasing every second. My limbs felt more and more like lead until my arms simply hung by my wrists in Solomon’s hold, now struggling to just keep my eyes open and focus on the wooden grain of the desk underside above, trying to not pass out with the fear that if I closed my eyes that I wouldn’t open them again. However, even that became too much effort and my eyelids slid closed.
I felt cold and tired.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed with my eyes closed but I realized that I was being nudged, barely able to focus on the voice, “Sh-Shit, Kat? Kat?!”
“Nnngh,” I groaned at being nudged again, eyelids twitching a few times before I managed to groggily force them open. My sight was blurry and I had to clear it with a couple blinks to look up at Solomon, who gazed down in worried panic with slightly glowing blue eyes rather than the red from before. I just felt an overwhelming wave of relief at seeing that he seemed to have come to. “Oh, thank god..”
I let out a relieved sigh, eyes closing again tiredly, adrenaline either long gone or drained and feeling exhausted relief at seeing Solomon alright. My brow twitched and furrowed as I was shaken, struggling to get out of the dazed stupor I’d almost immediately fallen into without realizing it.
I just wanted to sleep now, man, leave me alone.
“Come on, stay with me,” Solomon said, something brushing against my neck as he murmured some words under his breath. “I can’t have my adorable apprentice dying on me.”
“Mmmn-n-not adorable,” I grumbled weakly, managing to open an eye in an attempt to glare at him. He pulled his hand away from my neck and the glow of a healing spell dissipated in his palm. The healing spell didn’t clear away the blood on his hand and chin, making me wonder how bad I looked if HE looked this disheveled and blood-covered.
“I can’t believe that worked. You’re ridiculous,” the sorcerer laughed, but it was strained. He reached for something nearby and muttered another spell, adding louder, “Just try and stay awake while I try to fix this before the bloodlust becomes unbearable again. If this is how Beel feels all the time, no wonder he goes mad with hunger as often as he does…”
I groaned in acknowledgement, fighting to keep my eye open. I gave up and lifted a lead-heavy arm to drape lethargically over my eyes. “How much blood can I lose before dying?”
“Well, the average person can lose up to a fifth of their blood on average before going into complete shock. However, more than forty percent is almost certainly lethal.”
My lips pursed at the information, quiet for a few seconds before lifting my arm slightly from my eyes to peer at him and mumbling, “I don’t like that you just know that.”
“You did ask,” Solomon replied lightly in an attempt to lighten the mood. He seemed satisfied with whatever he cast and started reaching for my neck again. His expression fell when I involuntarily flinched slightly away from his hands.
“I-... s-sorry…”
“No. No, it’s… understandable,” he sighed slightly, grabbing my other wrist instead. My hand curled defensively as he lifted it up and tied my choker around the wrist.
I let out a surprised noise as I felt a sudden surge of energy and slight warmth, having not realized how chilled I was with my lack of blood. Not enough to be jumping up and down or anything, but I didn’t feel like I was about to die anymore. I blinked at not feeling like death and gave Solomon a bleary quizzical look.
“It’s to magically help your blood levels. I can’t make something from nothing, especially in my mental state right now, but it'll keep you from dying to blood loss,” Solomon explained, giving me a guilty, apologetic, and shameful expression. He sighed and I felt like his eyes flickered for a second. “It's also to help you breathe and hopefully keep you clean.”
“Solomon. I don't like that you said that…,” I narrowed my eyes at him and shifted to try and push myself into a sitting position, yelping when my elbows buckled beneath me. Yup, still too weak to move much.
“Don't strain yourself,” a hand planted against my shoulder to keep me down as the sorcerer looked at me with concern. He tried to give me a reassuring smile despite the obvious mental strain it was taking him to maintain control.
Probably would have been more effective if there wasn't a slight discoloration on his face where I'd elbowed him as bruising started setting in, he hadn't literally just overpowered me, was on the verge of relapsing, and we were both covered in my own blood. In my slightly delirious state, I had to internally admit that it was quite a look.
“Sol-.”
“It's nothing you haven't handled before,” the sorcerer continued, interrupting whatever further protests or questions I had before he started reciting the now very familiar shrinking spell I’d grown accustomed to hearing from the brothers.
Almost immediately the lightheadedness and vertigo took over, dazing me and making my vision swim. I barely registered the sensation of being lifted from the ground, my eyesight refocusing in time to see Solomon’s mouth open above me. The elongated canines that had punctured my skin minutes prior now framed the dark confines of his bloodstained jaws and the warm, shaky exhale that washed over me was saturated with the scent of iron. My heart skipped a beat.
I knew any protest or words would fall on deaf ears but as I was lifted closer to Solomon’s open mouth with his tongue extending slightly to lay over his lower teeth I couldn’t help but weakly say, “If this ends up killing me, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
There was another, sharper exhale from the sorcerer and a slight upturn at the corner of his lips before I was transferred from his palm to the slick, textured surface of his tongue, the muscle curling behind me and drawing me into his jaws. Saliva instantly soaked into my clothes as teeth lightly clicked shut behind me to leave me in darkness, able to hear and feel everything around me flex as Solomon instinctively swallowed some excess saliva.
His breathing was more noticeably ragged from within his jaws, huffing as his tongue quivered beneath me. I was confused, laying in a tired daze and wondering why nothing was moving, used to being tasted, sometimes with aggressive fervor. From the way I could feel drool pooling beneath my back I could tell that I was appealing to him, but the question of whether or not it was brought on by the Vampiritis would have to wait until later. I realized when his tongue only gingerly lapped at me a couple times before gravity began to shift that he seemed to be desperately holding himself back.
“Right,” I mumbled, letting myself slide toward the back of his throat. “Kind of attacked me.”
Solomon probably didn’t want to hurt me more.
I grunted slightly as a swallow quickly dragged me into his gullet and more hastened my descent down his esophagus, breathing restricted by the tight confines and each inhale laced with the tang of blood. Slipping past the collarbone was more constrictive and I was able to hear the sorcerer let out an exhale of relief, felt the odd sensation of being tightly hugged on all sides by peristalsis pulling me yet able to discern the sensation of him leaning forward slightly.
“I can’t tell how much of it is the Vampiritis but… this is unnervingly satisfying,” he admitted, voice resonating down to my bones in my descent. “I really hope you’ll be able to breathe. I guess I’ll find out if you don’t flail.”
There he went, mentioning breathing again. I was almost confused but as I felt the slight pressure beneath me that precluded spilling into a stomach, I realized that he quite literally had his fill of me. There wasn’t even a splash as I was forced into the organ, just slipping into a chamber of blood that I was thankful I couldn’t see. Whatever he did to my choker was allowing me to breathe, which I was thankful for considering I hadn’t exactly braced myself to hold my breath, and oddly enough each inhale was clean air instead of iron-saturated liquid. Potentially some sort of personal breathing bubble, I wasn’t exactly going to summon a light source in here.
“You’re good, Solomon,” I mustered the energy to shout up, feeling for the nearest stomach wall in the space expanded with my own blood. I tried not to think about it too much.
“Thank goodness,” Solomon let out a sigh of relief. Everything sort of sloshed around as he moved, the force of him shifting and standing up making me sink a little. “It seems eating you has tempered the bloodlust slightly. I was worried that I was going to drain you, felt like I was starving and greedy even though I feel full. Now, to get Barbatos and-.”
Solomon was interrupted by the sound of the door breaking open and slamming against the wall, Mammon’s voice shouting in a panic, “KAT!”
“Uh oh.” Solomon and I muttered at the same time.
“I assure you, this looks far worse than it is,” Solomon told Mammon, and considering how bloody and disheveled the sorcerer and my room was, I didn’t think the demon would believe that.
All I could do was wish Solomon luck and prepare to potentially be sloshed around.
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KINDCEMBER DAY TWOOOOO
MY GIRL
MY GIRL
OH MY GOD YALL MY GIRL ITS HER DAY
POLLUX TIMEEEEE
Gods you all i cannot explain how much I adore Pollux.
This is going to start happy and get angry before it gets happy again I am upset that people don't think she should be angry at lunar so I may get rant-y. But I promise this is all positive towards her.
Pollux is the first astral Lunar meets. She is never afraid of what she is, she doesn't even try to hide it from Lunar. When he points it out she just looks confused and brushes it off. She's so positive and energetic and what she doesn't understand in social cues and human emotions she makes up for in energy and genuine care. She gives off the most care of the pair initially, especially in my mind when Earth gets hurt and Castor doesn't want to tell her because he's worried she'll get distracted from their mission.
I just rewatched the magic vacation episode this morning where Pollux took Lunar and Castor to Paris and China and oh my gods I was giggling so hard the entire time. I love her energy and her heart and how much of herself she puts into everything she does. She wants to take in everything, she wants to learn everything that she can. Throughout lunar's training she's constantly their hype man (hype woman? hype star? who knows), and that carries on into their relationship, as she tries to support him when he's struggling with his emotions.
She sometimes reminds me of a puppy with how hyper and excitable she is, constantly moving, dancing, shimmying, singing, etc.
Pollux is genuinely willing to change how she sees the world for Lunar, her first real friend, her partner, her mentee. She's willing to spend countless hours watching rom coms to learn how romance works, she wants to learn more about earth (the planet) and teach her brother and Lunar, she says specifically that she is learning how emotions work because she wants to understand how Lunar sees the world and to be what they need in a partner.
Now, current lore time. This is my opinions. If you have problems with it, scroll away or block me. It's not my job to keep you happy.
Pollux deserves to be angry. Some people don't like this, but she deserves it. Her first friend, her partner, a person she is willing to change heaven and earth for turns away from her, AGAIN, and seeks out someone who can help them cheat their way through his training.
She repeats multiple times to Lunar that "they aren't like him" they don't feel emotions the way that he does, and oh my gods does that hurt. She's trying to close herself off because she doesn't understand why she's hurting. If she had never met them, if she hadn't come to earth, if she hadn't started learning how love works, she wouldn't be feeling this heartbreak, she never would have learned how to feel. And now she can. And she Hates it.
Its the same feeling after starting to unmask, or after a dissociative episode. Feeling too much, wanting it to stop but also hating that you want it to stop. She's fundamentally changed as a person, both her and Castor have.
Now she sees lunar as "annoying" and "stupid". She's trying to bury her feelings under anger and numbness. She's acting more like Castor, turning that bluntness that Lunar said he loved against him and trying not to show how hurt she is.
She ignores him, turns a cold shoulder, snaps at him, and just repeatedly acts spitefully towards him.
👏AS👏 SHE 👏SHOULD👏
When castor came to check in on Lunar during his first trial, he'd said that Pollux was the one doing a lot of the talking and fighting for them, without very much rest. Pollux is strong and brave and does not get enough credit for it. Queen Kat does an amazing job with her, showing a character who is learning to be human as her lover loses their humanity.
Pollux and Castor's relationship is adorable to me too, because she's so confident and stubborn, she drags him along and he just goes with it. He watches hours of movies with her, he listens to her rants even when they aren't things he's interested in, he genuinely listens to her opinions and doesn't look down on her for being more chaotic or childish.
Pollux tries to explain to lunar so many times that it's okay if he can't do more, he's doing enough and she's proud of him for that, but he never listens and just ends with them all getting hurt.
I love Pollux so much as a character though, as a kid growing up with a mythology + astronomy obsession, and that continuing into my life now the entire concept of the Astrals is so so cool to me and I love what LAES is doing.
*takes a dramatic bow*
Happy kindcember everyone! Make sure to go check out the user I mentioned in my last kindcember post if you want to see the prompts and give them some love! The TSBS fandom is such a cool place and it deserves to be safe for both the fans and the creators. There is no reason there should be this much pain the VAs are going through to bring us the amazing content that they do. We can be better. Shouldn't we try?
#kindcember#lunar and earth show#laes pollux#laes lumini#security breach show#queen kat#queen kat deserves better#laes lunar
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This is inspired by that veil illustration by Kotteri yup that one! (Scene 14)
It’s not exactly like it but I didn’t want it to be.
So to add some lore I’d think Bess tricked Dulce into modeling for new seasonal chocolate. Well not really trick more like telling her she’d be holding the chocolate for pictures and then surprise the poor girl… because dulce struggles with that no word. (But Dulce would’ve been happy to model for her boss just very nervous) 
😬 Just a heads up if my writing is boring and or trash my b🤭, not use to posting words lol. My drawings are so much easier to share. 🤷🏻♀️
Tw: few bits of stalking behavior. Other than that it’s ✨wholesome ✨
“Dulce?” Bess calls out from the storage room, to the already exhausted Dulce. Both are diligent about closing up the chocolate shop.
“Yeah boss!” Dulce pokes her head out to Bess hold a box with her usual smile.
“Tomorrow we have the photographer booked for 4 hours to take pictures of the new chocolates. Are still up for holding the chocolate for the pictures. I texted you the location!” Bess tilts her head for reassurance.
“Yes I remember, am I still getting paid for it!” Dulce laughs as she asks know her boss would probably pay her double for technically working on a day off.
“Of course, well I’m glad you are still up for it.” She turns and puts the box onto the shelf “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning?”
“Yes! I will see ya then!” Dulce turns and grabs her bag and jacket from the hook. Starts walking towards the door. As she heads on home she gets that odd feeling of being watched once again. She pulls her phone out. Phone at the ready.
She gets home safe and sound no signs of Chris so she takes a shower eats a quick leftover meal and heads to bed. That windows open once again. She shuts it and puts on a few alarms on her phone to remind her of her early wake up call. Hand modeling she never thought about doing such a thing but hey extra pay and new skill set not a bad outcome. Sleep slowly takes her.
Next morning.
Alarm blearing and a knock at the door wakes dulce up from deep sleep!
“Ehh, Bro your alarms been ringing for a while. You okay?” Chris talks through the door, Dulce rubs her eyes and soon she shoots up checking her phone!
“Thanks Chris!!! I’m uuuuup!!” Dulce Russia’s and puts on a quick dress with stockings and her jacket. Her boots are at the door. She runs to the bathroom brushes her teeth and slightly brushes her hair. “Bye dude! I gotta go, helping out Bess with some advertisement being done for a new chocolate. I’ll be back no later than 2 maybe 3” she grabs her keys from the bowl and rushes to the door “I’ll be late if I don’t get going!”
Chris chuckles, “you look like that bunny from that old cartoon movie where it’s late!” He shakes his head turning back to making his breakfast “be safe text me if you need anything dude!”
Dulce opens the door, yelling form the apartment corridor right before shutting the door “ you got it Byyyeeee!” Door shut she’s jogging to the location which isn’t to far from her house or the shop.
She walks in and Bess and three other people are in the room. There’s a table with a few props and chocolates.
“Morning Bess!” Dulce smiles while walking over to her boss. “I hope I’m not late, almost missed my alarm. Thank you roommate!”
“Oh! As-salamu alaykum Dulce! You are here, so I have a teeny tiny question of course I want to do whatever you are comfortable with.” She smiles but it’s larger Dulce can feel her excitement. It’s almost contagious.
“Sure, whatever it is. Lays it on me Bess” Dulce drops her stuff next to a lone chair in what looks to be a small warehouse used as studio. She puts her hands on her hip waiting for instructions.
“Hmmm I know I asked you to hold the chocolates, but I was wondering if we could take a full picture of you? Like you eating them and we can dress you up! On theme of sorts?” Bess seems almost unsure and bashful trying to coax Dulce into modeling. “Of course if you are 100 percent uncomfortable with it we can do just you hands with gloves. But I just-” they take a slight pause.
“Bess. I don’t know?” Dulce isn’t a model not only is she unsure seeing she didn’t put any make up on and her hair is barely brushed.
“Hear me out? We have them for four hours, and I can dress you up, if you don’t like the pictures we can stick to the original plan.” Bess looks to Dulce she can almost since Bess trying to make a puppy dog face. A rarity in its own.
“Okay I- I don’t see why not-”Bess claps and grabs hold of her sitting Dulce down where there are a few pieces of jewelry and make up bags all placed on a table. Dulce looks at the makeup bags they seem familiar… green with flowers and leaves. Bess is beaming while they sits in front of her doing their make up. Dulce knows she could have said no but if she doesn’t like the way it looks she’ll opt out like Bess offered. She does have a hunch Bess planned this from the beginning. With eyes closed and relaxed face. “Bess you could have just asked from the start you know?”
Bess sighs and makes a quiet chuckle. I know but I just wasn’t sure if you’d say yes at all and I didn’t want to scare you. Other wise I’d be holding the chocolates.” She delicately swipes mascara onto Dulces eyelashes. “ Besides I did take a few holding them already.” Then moves onto adding some lipstick onto Dulces lips. ”I genuinely find you breathtaking, and that face can definitely sell out our new cherry ribbon chocolates.” She giggles “alright then let me brush and style your hair next and then we can get started!”
“Sure thing boss.” Dulce shake her head “you would definitely sell out chocolates too you know?” Turning to her boss, Bess shrugs
“Maybe next time!” They both laugh, but doesn’t take long for Bess to be done with Dulce’s hair opting to letting it down and choosing to use big bold earrings that match the color of the box and make up. Pink was never Dulces favorite didn’t really find the color flattering. But Bess seemed to be very proud of her work. So Dulce was content.
The photography crew guides dulce to a backdrop. They lead you into a few pose, and nothing really seems to getting THE shot.
Bess seems worried coming up to you during a quick break. “Sugar, listen if you don’t want to keep going we can just take pictures of the chocolates and you can go home… I am so sorr-”
“No no no, none of that.” Dulces phone vibrates she sees that Blaire had asked what she were up to. Quickly texting back where she is and what she was doing. Figuring since the beach wasn’t too far maybe they could meet up with her later once this photoshoot was done. “There’s just a matter of the right pose. We still have two hours. As well as plenty of chocolates in boxes shots.” Setting her phone down she graves Bess’s hands “I haven’t let you down and I won’t start today!”
“Okay, you’re right. Thank you sugar.”
After 30 minutes still taking photos three people roll into the warehouse Dulce recognizes their faces as her new trio of friends. Bess notices too walks over to them.
Dulce worried about inviting them not thinking they be here so early. “Sorry could we take five?” She asks the photographer
“Sure thing I want to change the backdrop so it works for me” Dulce jogs to the small group of people, she notes that no one seems to be upset.
“Hey Sugar cube! Blaire insisted that we drop by.” Ezra winks Sammy stands next to him nose in a book and grins in agreement. “ I hope we’re not interrupting”
“No we’re needing another break if anything Dulces been a wonderful model, just haven’t gotten the right angle of the chocolates.” She looks to Dulce “I’m going to check on the photographer take your break” she walks away
“Have you tried eating it?” Blaire looks at the staged area a hand on her hip the other on her chin. “Take a bite out it, make the consumer want what you’re having!” She looks to Dulce her brows pop up and down suggestively.
“I’ll try it wasn’t sure if it was okay to do didn’t want to mess up the make up.” She shrugs “never really modeled before. Anyway you guys hang tight we should be done in an hour.”
“Don’t push yourself too hard I very sure all those pictures came out beautiful.” Ezra whispers into you ear. “Might even be jealous over the chocolate.” Dulce giggles
She shakes her head the jiggle of jewelry clanking together. She’s most definitely blushing. “Bess I think I’ve got the shot!”
Dulce takes a bite of the cherry filled chocolate. It drips slightly and she holds the bitten piece of chocolate up in front of her face, the filling rolls across her silk gloves. Hitting the camera with just enough of a sultry, gaze.
Flashes and clicks and Dulce poses in similar ways but that first shot was the ticket.
The photographer is animated over getting the right shot.
Bess walks up to you, “thank you again Dulce, I will send you all the pictures of you and let you see the final product when edits are done too. You were amazing!” They holds Dulces hands in one patting them with the other in appreciation 
Ezra walks over to Dulce and leans down into her snarking an arm through her waist. “Might need a few of those myself!”
Blaire and Sammy walk up both in agreement
“Let get my things guys. And Bess, I’m doing your makeup next time.”
She giggles as she waves and walks away “we’ll see!” She heads to the crew who are packing up and reviewing the photos.
Few weeks later.
Ezra walks past a few shops on his way home, he see her face. He’s in awe how beautiful it came out. Theyactually might be jealous of that chocolate. He hates how close Sugars boss is. But can’t be helped. A part of him doesn’t want anyone to look at her but another is happy to admire. He may just stop by her window, she isn’t home but maybe those gloves are around there somewhere.
@restartheartvn @queenlilithprime
I have a few doodles I want to post of Dulce but I’ll need to wait til steam release. Idk if they’re spoilery seeing its inspired by content from Patreon so rather be safe than sorry.
Excited for it though can’t wait to throw my support and money at it! Love the game and characters (except Kenneth 🤮) very much.
Wishing lily all the love and happiness because she deserves it so much.💕
Oh…
And to all the impatient bitches shut the fuck up! You’re not wanted in these parts. 🤠

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