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aeth-eris · 4 months ago

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rising signs : animalistic features

aries rising - tiger, falcon, and lynx

body: aries risings exhibit the muscular and agile build of a tiger, combined with the aerodynamic frame of a falcon and the compact, athletic form of a lynx. their bodies are often toned and fit, showcasing their strength and speed. they possess an upright posture, emphasizing their readiness and boldness, as if they are always prepared for action. the combination of these animals highlights their powerful and assertive presence, as they move with precision and swiftness. face: angular, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline that mirrors the boldness of a tiger. their eyes are sharp and intense, much like the falcon’s focused, penetrating gaze, while their expressions carry the quiet, alert nature of a lynx. the overall facial structure is defined and commanding, reflecting a fierce and determined attitude. their gaze can be both direct and intimidating, showcasing their fearless and straightforward approach to life. aura: dynamic, assertive, and commanding. aries risings carry an electric, action-oriented energy that feels like a constant surge of adrenaline. they exude a sense of confidence and leadership, blending the power and grace of a tiger, the sharp awareness and agility of a falcon, and the stealth and precision of a lynx. their presence ignites intensity, pushing others to rise to the challenge or keep up with their relentless pace.

taurus rising - bison, tortoise, and walrus

body: taurus risings have a solid and powerful build that combines the massive strength of a bison, the grounded, steady presence of a tortoise, and the robust frame of a walrus. they typically appear broad and muscular, with thick limbs and a physique that emphasizes resilience and stability. their movements are purposeful and deliberate, often slow and measured, showcasing their connection to the earth and their preference for consistency. face: broad and rounded features, with a calm and peaceful expression that resembles the serene gaze of a tortoise. their eyes are steady, showing depth and warmth, much like the wise look of a bison. the full cheeks and strong, defined chin echo the presence and strength of a walrus, giving them an appearance of solidity and strength. aura: grounded, reliable, and reassuring. taurus risings project a steady, nurturing energy that feels safe and dependable, combining the wisdom of a tortoise, the protective power of a bison, and the enduring strength of a walrus. their presence is calming, making those around them feel secure, as they exhibit a consistent, steadfast nature that doesn’t waver.

gemini rising - sparrow, monkey, and butterfly

body: light, quick, and agile, gemini risings have a lean build that allows for rapid movement, similar to a sparrow’s nimble form. they carry the playful energy of a monkey, showing a lively and expressive demeanor, while the delicate, fluttering grace of a butterfly adds a sense of lightness and charm. their body reflects a youthful, ever-active nature, constantly shifting and adapting to their environment. face: sharp, animated features with bright, inquisitive eyes that capture the alertness of a sparrow. their facial expressions are lively and change rapidly, similar to the playful curiosity seen in a monkey. they may have fine, delicate facial structures that resemble the soft, whimsical beauty of a butterfly, adding to their light and engaging appearance. aura: playful, energetic, and intelligent. gemini risings carry a dynamic and sociable energy, blending the lightness and freedom of a sparrow, the quick-witted and expressive nature of a monkey, and the delicate charm of a butterfly. their presence feels like a breeze—refreshing, unpredictable, and always in motion—sparking curiosity and encouraging interaction.

cancer rising - seal, koala, and panda

body: soft and nurturing, cancer risings often have a gentle, rounded build that reflects the comforting presence of a seal. their physique is compact, similar to a koala’s, emphasizing approachability and warmth, while the soft and cuddly nature of a panda adds a sense of protection and tenderness. they move with a slow, flowing grace, creating an inviting and soothing presence. face: round and expressive, with large, tender eyes that resemble the gentle and caring gaze of a panda. their expressions are soft and calm, showing warmth and empathy like a seal’s, and they possess a nurturing quality reminiscent of a koala’s peaceful demeanor. their cheeks are often full, giving them a youthful, approachable look that conveys comfort and care. aura: warm, gentle, and nurturing. cancer risings project an energy that feels soothing and protective, blending the tenderness of a panda, the comforting nature of a seal, and the nurturing presence of a koala. their aura creates a safe space, making others feel understood and supported in their presence, as they embody a sense of home and emotional safety.

leo rising - lion, peacock, and golden eagle

body: leo risings possess a powerful, athletic build reminiscent of a lion’s strength, combined with the tall, elegant posture of a golden eagle and the flamboyant beauty of a peacock. they have a commanding presence, with a fit, muscular frame that draws attention and exudes confidence. their movements are deliberate and graceful, embodying their regal nature. face: striking and bold, with prominent, angular features that evoke the majesty of a lion. their eyes are intense, like a golden eagle’s, projecting a sense of focus and strength. the dramatic flair of a peacock is seen in their expressive facial gestures, emphasizing their charisma and boldness. voluminous hair often enhances their presence, resembling a lion’s mane or a peacock’s extravagant display. aura: radiant, magnetic, and commanding. leo risings emit a confident and captivating energy that draws others in, blending the regal power of a lion, the focused intensity of a golden eagle, and the showy elegance of a peacock. their aura feels bright and uplifting, inspiring admiration and respect, as they naturally take center stage in any setting.

virgo rising - cat, antelope, and dragonfly

body: virgo risings have a slender and graceful build like a cat, with the agile, athletic form of an antelope and the delicate, light structure of a dragonfly. their bodies appear refined and controlled, moving with quick and precise movements that highlight their attention to detail. face: delicate and angular, with sharp, intelligent eyes similar to those of a cat. their expressions are thoughtful, often showing focus and calm observation. the sleek look of an antelope and the fine, intricate beauty of a dragonfly are reflected in their facial features, giving them an air of grace and sophistication. aura: calm, meticulous, and composed. virgo risings carry an energy that feels precise and thoughtful, combining the awareness of a cat, the grace of an antelope, and the lightness of a dragonfly. their presence is composed and organized, creating an atmosphere that feels efficient and intelligent, like everything is in its proper place.

libra rising - gazelle, swan, and dove

body: libra risings are long-limbed and elegant, with the slender and graceful build of a gazelle, the poised beauty of a swan, and the gentle softness of a dove. they have a balanced and proportional physique that moves fluidly and gracefully, appearing refined and harmonious. face: symmetrical and soft, with serene eyes that mirror the peaceful gaze of a dove. their facial features are refined, exuding the delicate beauty of a swan and the graceful movement of a gazelle. their skin and facial structure often appear smooth and well-balanced, enhancing their overall elegance. aura: harmonious, peaceful, and inviting. libra risings emit a calming and balanced energy that feels welcoming and graceful, combining the elegance of a swan, the charm of a dove, and the poise of a gazelle. their presence creates an atmosphere of beauty and harmony, making those around them feel at ease and inspired.

scorpio rising - wolf, scorpion, and raven

body: scorpio risings have a lean and muscular build, combining the stealthy, agile form of a wolf, the controlled precision of a scorpion, and the sleek, dynamic appearance of a raven. they move with purpose and fluidity, exuding an intensity that feels both powerful and mysterious. face: sharp and defined, with piercing eyes that convey the watchful, predatory gaze of a wolf. their facial features are intense and captivating, reflecting the enigmatic and precise nature of a scorpion and the mysterious allure of a raven. their expressions often appear serious, hinting at hidden depths and secrets. aura: intense, magnetic, and enigmatic. scorpio risings project a deep, transformative energy that feels both powerful and alluring, blending the loyalty and intensity of a wolf, the stealth of a scorpion, and the mysterious presence of a raven. their aura draws people in, creating a sense of intrigue and fascination that leaves others wanting to know more.

sagittarius rising - mustang, albatross, and otter

body: sagittarius risings have a tall, lean, and athletic build like a mustang, with the expansive, soaring energy of an albatross and the playful, flexible movements of an otter. they possess a fit physique that exudes freedom and vitality, moving swiftly and gracefully. face: bold and expressive, with bright, adventurous eyes similar to an albatross’s far-seeing gaze. their facial features are open and inviting, reflecting the playful nature of an otter and the wild, untamed spirit of a mustang. their expressions are often warm and enthusiastic, embodying their love for exploration and adventure. aura: adventurous, open, and enthusiastic. sagittarius risings carry an expansive, free-spirited energy that feels vibrant and uplifting, blending the speed and freedom of a mustang, the vision of an albatross, and the joyful playfulness of an otter. their presence encourages exploration and inspires others to embrace new experiences.

capricorn rising - ibex, owl, and mountain goat

body: capricorn risings have a sturdy and lean build like an ibex, with the disciplined structure of a mountain goat and the quiet, resilient presence of an owl. they move with precision and strength, reflecting their determination and focus. their physique often appears strong and fit, showcasing their resilience and their ability to navigate challenges with grace and endurance. face: angular, with a serious, observant gaze that mirrors the keen eyes of an owl. their facial features are defined and strong, showing the resilience of an ibex and the perseverance of a mountain goat. their expressions are composed and calm, highlighting their practical and methodical approach, often exuding an air of quiet authority. aura: disciplined, steady, and authoritative. capricorn risings exude a grounded energy that feels strong and reliable, blending the endurance of a mountain goat, the wisdom of an owl, and the resilience of an ibex. their presence is focused, instilling a sense of stability and determination in others, encouraging confidence and a sense of purpose in any environment they enter.

aquarius rising - octopus, crow, and gecko

body: aquarius risings possess a flexible and adaptable build like an octopus, combined with the sleek, dynamic presence of a crow and the agile, versatile movements of a gecko. they often have a slim and unique physique that reflects their individuality and adaptability. their movements are fluid and unpredictable, showcasing their readiness to adapt to new environments and embrace unconventional ways of moving through the world. face: distinctive features with bright, intelligent eyes similar to those of a crow. their expressions often carry a sense of curiosity and insight, reflecting the adaptability of a gecko and the enigmatic quality of an octopus. their facial structure is unique and may have an asymmetrical or unconventional charm, emphasizing their innovative and forward-thinking nature. aura: unconventional, innovative, and dynamic. aquarius risings project an energy that feels futuristic and adaptable, blending the intelligence and flexibility of an octopus, the sharp wit of a crow, and the resourcefulness of a gecko. their presence feels electric and intriguing, inviting others to think outside the box and approach life with an open and inventive mindset.

pisces rising - manatee, chameleon, and jellyfish

body: pisces risings often have a soft, rounded build like a manatee, combined with the fluid, adaptable movements of a jellyfish and the transformative nature of a chameleon. their physique appears gentle and calm, emphasizing a peaceful and approachable presence. they move with a serene, flowing grace that feels almost ethereal, embodying a sense of fluidity and adaptability to their surroundings. face: soft, gentle features with large, dreamy eyes that convey deep empathy and sensitivity, resembling a manatee’s warm and compassionate gaze. their expressions are fluid and often reflective, mirroring the chameleon’s ability to adapt and change. their overall look has an otherworldly quality similar to a jellyfish, with a soft and delicate appearance that enhances their mystical aura. aura: dreamy, empathetic, and fluid. pisces risings emit a soothing, nurturing energy that feels ethereal and adaptable, blending the gentle nature of a manatee, the flexibility of a chameleon, and the calming essence of a jellyfish. their presence creates a peaceful and intuitive atmosphere, making others feel at ease and inviting them into their compassionate and imaginative world.

#astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #astrology moodboard #astrology rising #ascendant sign

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hayatheauthor · 10 months ago

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Writing Rage: How To Make Your Characters Seem Angry

Anger is a powerful emotion that can add depth and intensity to your character's personality. If you're facing issues realistically expressing your characters' rage, here are some quick tips to help you get the ball rolling. Whether your character is seething with quiet rage or exploding in a fit of fury, these tips will help you convey their emotions vividly to your readers.

This is blog one in my writing different emotions series. Go check it out to explore more emotions!

Facial Expressions

Furrowed Brows: Describe the deep lines between their eyebrows, signaling frustration or intensity.

Tightened Jaw: Mention their clenched jaw, indicating suppressed anger or tension.

Narrowed Eyes: Highlight how their eyes narrow, showing suspicion, irritation, or anger.

Raised Upper Lip: Note the slight curl of the lip, suggesting disdain or contempt.

Flared Nostrils: Describe how their nostrils flare, indicating heightened emotions like anger or aggression.

Body Language and Gestures

Crossed Arms: Show their defensive stance, portraying resistance or defiance.

Pointing Finger: Describe them pointing accusatively, conveying aggression or assertion.

Fist Clenching: Mention their clenched fists, symbolizing anger or readiness for confrontation.

Hand Gestures: Detail specific hand movements like chopping motions, indicating frustration or emphasis.

Aggressive Posturing: Describe them leaning forward, invading personal space to intimidate or assert dominance.

Posture

Tense Shoulders: Highlight their raised or tense shoulders, indicating stress or readiness for conflict.

Upright Stance: Describe their rigid posture, showing control or a desire to appear strong.

Stiff Movements: Mention their jerky or abrupt movements, reflecting agitation or impatience.

Eye Contact

Intense Stares: Describe their intense or prolonged gaze, signaling confrontation or challenge.

Avoiding Eye Contact: Note how they avoid eye contact, suggesting discomfort or a desire to disengage.

Glaring: Mention how they glare at others, conveying hostility or disapproval.

Dialogue

Raised or strained tone with variations in pitch reflects heightened emotions.

Short, clipped sentences or abrupt pauses convey controlled anger.

Use of profanity or harsh language intensifies verbal expressions of anger.

Volume increase, from whispers to shouts, mirrors escalating anger levels.

Monotonous or sarcastic tone adds layers to angry dialogue.

Interruptions or talking over others signify impatience and frustration.

Aggressive verbal cues like "I can't believe..." or "How dare you..." express anger explicitly.

Reactions

Physical Reactions: Detail physical responses like increased heart rate, sweating, or trembling, showing emotional arousal.

Defensive Maneuvers: Describe how they react defensively if someone tries to touch or talk to them, such as stepping back or raising a hand to ward off contact.

Object Interaction

Aggressive Handling: Show them slamming objects, throwing things, or gripping items tightly, reflecting anger or aggression.

Use of Props: Mention how they use objects to emphasize their emotions, like slamming a door or clenching a pen.

Descriptive Words:

Verbs:

Roared with fury, expressing unbridled anger.

Snapped in frustration, indicating sudden irritation.

Shouted angrily, releasing pent-up emotions.

Glared fiercely, showing intense displeasure.

Slammed objects in rage, symbolizing anger's physical manifestation.

Grunted in annoyance, displaying impatience.

Raged vehemently, portraying uncontrolled anger.

Adjectives:

Furious and incensed, conveying intense anger.

Seething with rage, bubbling beneath the surface.

Livid and fuming, exhibiting visible anger.

Agitated and irritated, showing growing impatience.

Enraged and wrathful, expressing extreme anger.

Vexed and irate, indicating annoyance.

Infuriated and incandescent, highlighting explosive anger.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey!

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illubean · 6 months ago

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saiki k with a reader who’s like super sleepy and makes everyone around them sleepy too? may or may not be a physic up to you tho!

Saiki W/ a Sleepy!Psychic!Reader

Characters: Kusuo Saiki Type: mix of headcanons and sort of a oneshot??, Gn!Reader

saiki kusuOOOOOOO

Warnings: none

when you first transferred into his class he was confused as to why he couldn't read your thoughts

congrats, you're now categorized with bugs and nendo..

and he was even more confused that the minute you walked in, everyone started yawning and his eye's felt heavy

"We have a new transfer student today, class. Why don't you come on in and introduce yourself?" Saiki watched as you lazily trudged into the room, posture hunched with droopy, slow blinking eyelids. You let out a yawn and stretched as if you just got out of bed before stating your name.

Saiki's eyes narrowed at you while you walked towards your new seat, everyone else yawning as you passed them by. Lucky for him, you happened to sit directly behind him, and suddenly he finds it hard to keep his head upright.

after this he...stalks you pretty much

not because he's some weirdo pervert but because he needs to get to the bottom of what's going on! (doesn't make it any less creepy...)

he watches you from a safe distance, but you seem to be like every other average person at this school

For the past week you felt like you've been watched wherever you go. Around the halls at school, on your way to the vending machine, even during your walk home. No matter which way you looked, there was never anything out of the ordinary. You'd always heard of those weird stories about crazy stalkers, but you never thought it could happen to you of all people.

You were just an average student; doing nothing particularly interesting outside of academics or school clubs. Or so everyone thought. Save for Saiki. He knew there was something off about you, but he has yet to see you do anything odd. He was getting frustrated waiting for you to make any sort of move that would reveal you as a potential threat.

one day Saiki manages to corner you and lays the interrogation on thick

you're like super confused and that's when he realized he fucked up and revealed his powers to you

he makes you swear to not tell anyone and may or may not force you to meet his brother to get to the bottom of your weird sleepy powers

whether you just have a useless sleepy power or others you also don't know about is up to you

"Alright, spit it out. Who are you really and what are your intentions at this school?"

Your back was abruptly slammed into the wall as you rounded the corner, and you never expected to come face to face with your pink haired classmate this way. You've never heard him speak much, making him mysterious and even more intimidating in a situation like this.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me, everywhere you go you make everyone around you tired. Besides, I can't read your thoughts and I never know your next move. Who sent you? Dark reunion!?"

You stared at him blankly for a moment, blinking slowly as you process everything he just said to you.

"...dark reunion? Forget that, you can read people's minds!?"

Oh. Crap.

#saiki kusou no psi nan #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #kusuo saiki #the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki x reader #saiki kusuo #saiki k x reader #saiki k no psi nan #saiki k headcanons #saiki kusuo no psi nan #saiki x you #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #kusuo saiki x reader #kusuo x reader

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dreamdrbbles · 1 month ago

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so here’s my first drabble! interpreted from a very fun dream i had. it’s definitely a fantasy, so if you don’t mind suspended reality a little bit with me.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve finally convinced yourself to go back to school and get your degree, you’re late to your first class and your professor doesn’t take too kindly to tardiness. or, does he?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: aaron pierre as dr. pierre & the black!fem reader as you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy smut, power imbalance, daddy kink, crude language, a bunch of grown folks things. minors do not interact.

Going back to school was your greatest accomplishment to date. At thirty, it wasn’t easy to take the leap and register for classes. You were terrified of being seen as the old freshman, but your dreams held more weight than your ego. You were proud of the life you’d built, sacrificing your own education to work and save so your younger brother could have the college experience he deserved. At just eighteen, you stepped up for your family, getting a full-time job to help fund his education. Now, ten years later, your baby brother was well on his way to earning a master’s degree. It was finally time to center yourself for once.

“Shit!” you yelped, bolting upright in bed. Your alarm hadn’t gone off, and the panic was immediate. You were supposed to be up an hour ago, but now you were going to be late for your very first college class. The one everyone told you not to take because it was at 8 a.m. You’d brushed them off, thinking, I used to wake up earlier than that for work. I got this. Clearly, you didn’t. It was 7:15, and you had 45 minutes to pull yourself together and get to Magnolia A&M University, your local HBCU.

Luckily, you’d picked out your outfit the night before. You had work later at the country club, and tennis lessons were on the schedule. That meant your Nike tennis skirt and matching top would have to do. After a rushed shower, skincare routine, and throwing your hair into a curly pineapple, you grabbed your keys. It was a ten-minute drive to campus, but with your luck today, who knew if you’d make it on time?

Magnolia A&M wasn’t just a school; it was a deliberate choice. Your family had always valued community and Black excellence, so an HBCU was a no-brainer. Every time you stepped on campus, you wished you’d started right after high school. Now, at thirty, you felt too old for frat parties or the Battle of the Bands, but you still loved the sense of unity. The royal blue and orange school colors? You wore them with pride.

You sped to campus like you had a getaway driver’s license, thanking the ancestors you didn’t get a ticket. After finding the right building, you made it to the lecture hall only 15 minutes late. African-American History was your first class of the day—and your minor. It had been the first course you registered for, the one you were most excited about.

As you pushed open the lecture hall doors, all eyes turned toward you, including those of your professor. You couldn’t see him clearly from the back of the room, but his posture alone radiated disapproval. Your stomach sank as you scanned the rows of seats. Of course, the only open spot was smack dab in the front row. Middle seat.

You braced yourself for the walk of tardy shame. Muttering “excuse me” and “sorry” at least ten times, you maneuvered your thick frame between tables and chairs. The awkward ordeal felt like it dragged on forever, but finally, you slid into the empty seat, heart racing.

The professor’s voice was what caught your attention first—deep, rich, and laced with a smooth British accent. You froze mid-search in your bag for a notebook and pen. When your gaze finally lifted to meet his, you nearly forgot to breathe.

Goddamn.

The word echoed in your mind before you could stop it. Beautiful wasn’t a word you usually reserved for men, but no other word fit. His sharp, masculine features contrasted with a pair of thick lashes framing aquamarine eyes. His neat facial hair outlined full, pink lips, and you couldn’t stop your thighs from pressing together as a very salacious thought crept into your mind. one that started with his wet duo on your first set of lips, and ending on your second.

Focus, girl. Eyes off the man and on the syllabus.

You forced yourself to listen, trying to ignore the low hum of his voice that made your spine tingle. Curiosity bubbled up as you wondered what a man from London was doing teaching African-American Studies in Texas. Almost as if reading your mind, he began explaining.

He told the class how reading The Autobiography of Malcolm X in middle school ignited his fascination with race relations in the West. That fascination led him to pursue a bachelor’s, master’s, and doctorate in African-American Studies. The name “Dr. Aaron Pierre” on your schedule had conjured an image of an older, graying professor who had more experience than book knowledge. You weren’t expecting a thirty year old Adonis who looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ.

The class went on like normal, an introductory first day of school. The hour ticked by as you gawked at your professor’s arms in the fitted black polo shirt he wore. It wasn’t until everyone around you had gotten up that you realized class had been dismissed. You followed suit, only to have your name called out in that deep baritone. How had he remembered it? Your introduction was one of the first of at least seventy-five.

“Can I see you in my office? You missed the first few minutes of class, just want to make sure you’re up to speed.”

Your throat was suddenly rivalry for the Sahara desert, your stomach hollowed. You were about to get kicked out of your first college course, all because your stupid alarm didn’t sound. You followed him to his office in silence, he opened the heavy wooden door for you and you ambled inside. Once the door closed behind you, you turned on your heels with an explanation at the ready. Until you realized his eyes were scanning your frame.

“The outfit… it’s different.” His comment caught you off guard, making your brows knit together. Was he picking on you? You glanced down at your tennis skirt. It hugged your curves, sure, but it wasn’t like you’d rolled out of bed in pajamas.

“I work after class,” you explained, tone sharp but polite. “I’m a tennis instructor.” His eyebrows lifted slightly, a flicker of interest flashing across his face. “Tennis?” He asked as he walked past you, to the other side of the cherry wood desk.

“Yeah, tennis.” You straightened your back, meeting his gaze. You’d been playing since elementary school. Your parents always joked that you could��ve been the next Venus or Serena, but you were realistic. You weren’t that good, just good enough to teach seven and eight year olds the basics.

Dr. Pierre leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms. “Let me be clear. Lateness will not be tolerated in my class. I take my work very seriously, and I expect my students to do the same.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. He really expected a room full of teenagers and young adults to be on time for an 8 a.m. lecture? Cute, and delusional. “Dr. Pierre,” you said, softening your voice. “I apologize. My alarm didn’t go off, and I worked late last night. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

His gaze lingered on you, and then he said, with absolute confidence, “I know.”

Your head tilted slightly, trying to figure out what he meant. He didn’t know you. And he sure as hell wasn’t your daddy. “Uh, okay. Whatever that means,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him.

He smiled—a slow, deliberate curve of his lips—and then, to your utter shock, said, “You’re beautiful.”

“Tha-thank you,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dr. Pierre’s expression remained unreadable as he began to close the distance between you. Each deliberate step sent a jolt of electricity racing down your spine, rooting you to the spot. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—completely stunned by his actions. By the time he was within arm’s reach, your breath was shaky, uneven. His hand reached out, wrapping gently but firmly around your wrist. The warmth of his touch sent a spark up your arm, and before you could process it, he pulled you closer.

Your chest brushed against his, and the faint, intoxicating scent of teakwood and cedar enveloped you. The combination was rich and grounding, but it wasn’t just the cologne—he smelled good. Too good.

He leaned down slowly, his aquamarine eyes locking onto yours, heavy with intent. You were hyperaware of everything in that moment; the way his grip lingered, the heat radiating from his body, and the way his lashes framed those impossible eyes. Your faces were so close now that your noses barely brushed. The faintest touch, but enough to make your heart race like you’d run a marathon.“Can I?” he murmured, his voice low and velvet-smooth, like a secret meant only for you. The words hung in the air, and without hesitation, you gave him what he needed, your consent.

The moment his lips met yours, the world seemed to fade away. His kiss was slow, deliberate, and impossibly soft. He moved with care, as though savoring every second, every touch. You felt your knees weaken, and for a fleeting moment, you feared you might melt into the floor right where you stood. The scent of him, the warmth of his lips, the way his hand slid down to cradle the small of your back—it was all-consuming. Time slowed, and the only thing that existed was him. When he pulled back, just enough to let your noses brush again, his eyes searched yours as if waiting for a sign. Your lips still tingled from his kiss, and your heart thundered in your chest.

“I-I’m going to be late for work.” You stumbled, he laughed, amusement of the irony coming from the depths of his diaphragm. “You didn’t give a fuck about being late to my class, am I not just as important? Hm?” He inquired, tilting your head up so that you were staring in those oceanic orbs. He subtly pushed you backwards until the bend of your knees collided with his desk. With ease, he picked you up and sat you on top of it. He kneeled down before you, as if your body was an altar he would pray to. “You smell so good.” He uttered as he leaned in and pressed his nose to the center of your now soaked panty, taking in your aroma. It was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to you.

“I can’t believe this…” You meant to keep that inside, but clearly your mind had other plans.

“Believe it.” He responded with a laugh. “I wanted you the moment I saw you walk in my class, baby.” Skillfully he pulled your panties off completely, opening the drawer next to him and dropping them in there as his own personal souvenir. He pushed your skirt up onto your body until it was damn near a belt, balling up the pleats in his hands as he devoured your center, lick by lick.

He feasted on you as if he would never be nourished again, sipping your waters as if they came from the finest of natural spring. hell, clearly they had. “Oh my fucking God!” You squeaked as his lips wrapped around your pulsating clit, giving it a sweet, sloppy french kiss. His middle and index finger grazing your drenched slit as he slipped both inside. his thick digits filled you up, causing your muscles to tighten around him. He grunted against your pussy, imagining how tightly you would grip his manhood.

“That’s not my name princess, I’m not God.” He was to you, in this moment. he had sucked your free will right out of your coochie. What was his fucking name? “What’s my name?” He inquired as if he was reading your mind once again. His fingers continued to please you, grazing his smooth tips against your ribbed g-spot. This nigga had a Ph.d in more than just some history. “Doctorrrrrrrrr….” You whined out, dragging out the profession as he pressed sweet kisses right above your gushing mound while you smothered his digits in your sweetness.

“Doctor….daddy!” You cried out, hoping that there was no one in the near vicinity that would’ve heard your outburst. Another laugh as he slowly slid his fingers out of you, now covered and dripping in your cum. “Doctor daddy..I like that.” He retorted before slipping his fingers into his mouth, cleaning you off of him one by one as you watched in awe. Stunned by his insistence of eye contact. Removing his fingers, he used the same two to beckon you to come close to him, once you sat up he leaned over you, his lips ghosting yours before he spat the mixture of your cum and his saliva into your mouth before engaging you in a messy lip lock.

The kiss was the distraction. You had completely missed the unbuckling of his belt, the sound of his zipper or him removing his hard inches out of his dress pants. Before you realized it, he pulled you to the edge of the desk and slipped inside of you. Your walls reacted before your brain could, gripping onto him for dear life. So surprised by the intrusion that it felt like you would push him out all together. Your breathing hitched, in a way to relax your body so that he could continue exploring the depths of you.

“Augh!” You groaned out as he worked the first few inches of himself in and out of your throbbing center. He pressed his lips to yours repeatedly, whispering for you to hush every now and again. “Be a good girl, take this dick…if you can be late to my class, surely you can handle dick.” He mumbled, his accent causing a chill to run up your spine. He was gentle, despite his rough approach. He fed you little by little until your pelvises collided and you were completely full of him. He laid you on the desk, hands on each side of your head, eyes connected as he began to stroke, deep and powerful. “Look at you, such a pretty girl. Wrapped around me like you love me.”

‘I DO.’ You wanted to scream. But instead melodic moans escaped your warm lips, words were inconveniently absent. You can tell your lack of verbal participation was bothering him just a bit, by the way the swing of his hips picked up with every new thrust. After a moment or two, he was fucking you relentlessly. His thick crown had found your spot and was no longer caressing it with care. He was beating your shit.

“Are you gonna’ be late again?” he asked, every syllable being drilled into your guts. Your stomach twisted and turned with each pump, but he peered down at you like he expected an answer, like your brain could comprehend what he was even saying.

You parted your lips to speak, but failed once again, a moan being the only verbalization you could produce. the strokes came to an abrupt stop, he pulled out of you without so much as a warning. “Wait!” you called out, desperately, holding your hands out like you could put him back in your damn self. he chuckled darkly. “You think you can ignore me and cum?”

You couldn’t realistically promise you’d never be late again, you didn’t control traffic, or flat tires, or bad hair days but you would’ve said anything to feel him again. “I’ll never be late again, Doctor. I promise. Just please…let me cum all over you.” You purred, making empty promises.

“I don’t believe you.” He added curtly, slapping the head of his massive erection against your clit, watching his pre-cum glaze your bulb. “But your pussy feels too good for me to argue.” He concluded as he entered you again, continuing his euphoric pillage of your body. The knots in your belly felt permanent, your toes curled as your legs wrapped around him. Your climax approaching with the volt of a thousand watts. His wood throbbed inside of you, pulsating with the same intensity. He was meeting you at your peak. “Fuck…” He grunted, proving your theory right. You draped your arms across his neck, leaning in and pressing your lips to his jawline, placing kisses until you reached his ear. “Cum with me, Dr. Pierre…I wanna feel you dripping out of me.” Your salacious words seemed to do the trick as both of you unraveled at the very same time.

You should’ve felt shame, or even disillusioned. But you felt nothing short of satisfied and empowered. Your legs were shaking and you were full of a strangers seed, but dammit was your first day of school memorable.

“8:00 AM, Wednesday. Don’t be late…” He spoke as he buckled his belt, looking up at you with those piercing orbs. “Oh, and that seat in front of me is now your assigned seat.” He added, prompting a laugh to fall from your lips.

“See you Wednesday, Dr. Pierre.” You concluded as you exited his office and back into the real world.

Fuck, you were late for work.

#aaron pierre smut #aaron pierre x black!reader #aaron pierre x black reader #black writers

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marcyvamp1re-blog · 27 days ago

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ৎ୭. . . REVENANT ─── Bruce Wayne & Batfamily

Silly Little Bat

⊹ ٬ Headcanon. In a dark mansion, a broken doll becomes the reflection of a man who has lost everything. Bruce Wayne, trapped in his pain, embraces it as a substitute for the irretrievable, while his family watches in horror and desperation. The line between obsession and sanity blurs, and the war for the truth erupts, each word cutting deeper.

⊹ ٬ Word Count. 2,18k

⊹ ٬ Content. MDNI. Dark themes, violence/death, blood, family war, trauma, invasion of privacy, kidnapping (of a doll), Angst, disturbing content, corruption, isolation, paranoia, manipulation, emotional abuse, family conflict, abuse of power, emotional manipulation.

「 a person who has returned,

especially supposedly from the dead. 」

When the doll appeared, no one knew where it had come from. It was in an elaborate package, an impeccable wrapping, with a bow that seemed intended to disguise the horror it contained. The note, written in a handwriting that seemed familiar, read: “For Bruce Wayne.”

Alfred was the first to notice the package. He didn’t want to touch it, but in the end, he did. What else could he do? When he opened it, the expression on his face changed from curiosity to a mix of confusion and dread. He couldn’t help but let out a breath, his gaze fixed on the contents.

“What’s wrong, Alfred? Is it something about Y/N?” Bruce asked, a trace of hope still lingering in his voice.

But as Bruce approached, that hope vanished as quickly as it had come. What he saw before him was more terrifying than any monster he could have imagined.

It was her. Or rather, the cruelest version of what she had been. A doll so identical to Y/N that it seemed as if life itself had been condensed into a piece of plastic, fabric, and hair. The same clothes she had worn on her first arrival at the mansion. Her disheveled hair, as if the chaos of those difficult days had become embedded in her locks. But above all, that empty look, of abandonment, of desolation, as if the only thing left of Y/N was her shadow, trapped in that object.

It was an echo of tragedy, a cruel caricature of that moment when he lost his parents. A macabre mockery.

Bruce’s throat tightened, but he didn’t allow his face to soften. He stood frozen, staring at her, until his body succumbed to a spiral he couldn’t control. Memories assaulted him mercilessly. The dark street. The shadows that enveloped him as his parents fell, helpless to do anything. The violence of that moment, the anguish that still dragged him down, the pain that never left.

Bruce slumped in his chair in the Batcave, turning his face away so Alfred wouldn’t see him. His chest heaved, and with trembling hands, he embraced the doll. He squeezed it desperately, as if it were the only link he had left to the past, to her, to the girl he had once been. He held it as if he could, for an instant, relive those days when everything seemed to make sense.

He cried silently. Tears fell like an invisible river, but the sound that accompanied his weeping was the same as that of a broken city. And so, for a second, he felt like a child again.

Alfred, with a dull expression, left quietly, but he saw it. He saw how that doll was the last drop that spilled Bruce Wayne's sanity.

What Alfred couldn’t foresee, what he couldn’t even imagine, was what happened the next day. When he entered the dining room, while setting the table with the usual routine, he saw Bruce. It was not the upright posture of a man facing the day, but that of someone who had fallen into an invisible trap. With a disturbing stillness, Bruce placed one more plate on the table. A plate that didn’t fit, that didn’t belong in the place it was meant to be. Next to his place, he set it down. The doll.

The butler observed in silence, unsure if what he saw was a macabre joke or the manifest pain of a broken man. The doll was now dressed in clean clothes, her hair neatly arranged with a meticulous care that could only have come from the hand of someone who had too much time to think, too much time to feel. He doubted Bruce was the one who had arranged it, but in the end, he was the only one who knew of its existence. The only one who knew that emptiness.

When the kids arrived, their gazes fell upon the doll. There weren’t many words, just murmurs in low voices, comments under their breaths, attempts to ignore it. But there was something in the atmosphere, a tension that filled it with a presence that refused to be silenced. Everyone, except Damian.

When the little one entered the room, he saw it, and his eyes widened. His gaze didn’t reflect confusion, but pure disdain. As if something in his mind had exploded, as if that scene had become the manifestation of everything he didn’t understand, everything that terrified him.

“What the hell is that thing?” he roared with venom, his voice piercing like a sharp dagger. He looked at his father, then at everyone else at the table with an indomitable fury. “Who was the jokester who dared to make that stupid replica of my sister?”

The air tensed, and time seemed to stand still for a second. Damian's rage was like thunder, but no one was willing to respond. There were no words. However, Bruce's response came as a deadly whisper, cold and definitive, an answer that was for no one but himself, for that abyss within his soul that had always swallowed his fears.

“It’s not a thing,” he said, his voice tinged with an unsettling calm, a calm that froze everything around him. “It’s Y/N. And sit down and shut up. She’s bothered by loud noises.”

The room fell into an absolute silence. No more words. No attempts to contradict him. The others didn’t dare to breathe, as if the air itself could ignite and consume them. Everyone looked down, unable to face the truth hidden in the delicately dressed figure, a figure that represented more than just a toy. It was a reflection of Bruce's desperation, a reminder of the deep cracks that had never healed.

The glass of milk that Bruce poured with a too-calculated precision on the table was not just for the doll. It was an offering. An attempt to feed what could no longer be nourished. The mansion, so big and empty, felt even lonelier in that moment, like a labyrinth with no exit. The anxiety that hung in the air was not just from those present. Bruce was trapped in his own cycle of pain. And the doll, the damned doll, was the only one who understood him.

The others, though silent, understood: the thread that held Bruce wasn't visible, but it was on the verge of breaking.

Days slipped by like shadows, each dragging with it a sense of unease and growing anxiety. The doll was no longer a novelty. It had become just another presence in Wayne Manor, as if it had been there all along, as if its existence was natural. Wherever Bruce went, she was there. In the office, in the Batcave, her small figure sat there, still, with the unsettling perfection of someone who could not move on her own. Though her face held no expression, the doll “played” like a lost child in a world she didn’t understand, simulating a normality that didn’t exist.

During breakfasts, snacks, and dinners, the doll occupied a special place next to Bruce. Her glass of milk, always empty, always vacant. The milk slid down her plastic lips, like a routine, as if it were a ritual that could not be interrupted. Sometimes, Bruce tucked her in to sleep, his trembling hands as he draped the blanket over her. The gesture was strange, almost paternal, but beneath that apparent calm, his mind was a whirlwind.

At first, he thought it would all end there. Bruce and the doll, a tacit agreement between them. The others would search for the real Y/N, the one who should be out there, lost, missing. But, as always in his life, things were never simple, never stayed in place.

It was a gray morning, one in which Bruce couldn’t help but feel trapped in the same cycle of anguish. As every day, the doll was at the table, by his side, with her glass of milk, but something was wrong. Alfred, upon entering the living room, was the first to notice it. A sound, a fragility, as if everything that had been built around the doll had shattered.

When he saw it, his heart stopped for a second. The doll was broken. Her porcelain body was cracked, her hair disheveled, her face a distorted grimace that it had never had before. And there it was, in the middle of the living room, like a brutal reminder of what was happening, of what Bruce had created.

The air cut sharply. A deadly tension spread through the house, as if a bomb was about to explode. Bruce, upon seeing the doll, said nothing. His breathing became heavy, his eyes fixated on the doll's cracks, as if that fracture were a reflection of his own broken self. Something inside him crumbled.

And then, the war began. It was not a war of weapons, nor of blows. It was a psychological war, a war of unresolved emotions and guilt. The members of the Wayne family, those who knew him better than anyone, began to speak. The words crossed, like daggers thrown mercilessly.

“What the hell have you done, Bruce?” Dick said, his voice tense, marked by a mix of fury and concern. “You’re losing control.”

Damian, with disdain in his eyes, looked at the broken doll. “Do you think you can replace Y/N with this? With that?” His voice was cold, cutting. “It’s just a piece of plastic."

Barbara, on the other hand, remained silent, but her eyes spoke more than a thousand words. She knew what was happening, saw the imminent collapse in Bruce. No one dared to say it out loud, but they all knew: Bruce was not just searching for Y/N. He was searching for a way to save himself.

“It’s just a doll!” Tim shouted, the rage evident in his tone. “It’s not going to bring her back!”

But Bruce, with his gaze lost on the broken doll, couldn’t hear. His mind, tormented by guilt, pain, and anxiety, couldn’t process any more. “She’s here,” he murmured, almost like a prayer. “She’s here with me. She’s always been here.”

And Bruce broke.

The war was not about the doll. It was about the pain, about the inability to accept the irreparable. Bruce was fighting against his own demons, a battle that no one could win. The doll, in its broken state, was just a reflection of the fractures that already existed within him. And now, they were all trapped in the same spiral, in the same darkness that he had created

Note ───── This story came to me as an anonymous request, something unexpected but incredibly interesting. I had never heard of such dolls before, but there's something unsettling about the idea that an inanimate object could carry so much emotional weight. As I wrote, I couldn't help but imagine Bruce at his most fragile, holding that doll as if it were all that remained of his humanity.

And honestly, I was more than sure that Bruce would crucify the Batkids for what they did to the doll, especially Damian. He was the one who, in some way, broke it, an act that would only multiply Bruce's guilt. The Batkids would surely never forget that day.

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poisonlove · 6 months ago

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The Tour | w.a

Wednesday Addams X Fem reader

"People are like plants: it’s not the amount of light they receive, but the kind that determines if they bloom." - Anonymous

“I don’t want to do it, Enid,” Wednesday hisses through gritted teeth, casting a cold look at the blonde in front of her.

“It was my turn last year! Can’t you do me this favor just this once?” Enid responds, her tone a mix of sweetness and desperation, her eyes pleading with her roommate.

I decide to look away, letting my attention wander around the room’s decor. I had just arrived at Nevermore Academy, and the headmistress had assured me that someone would show me around. But it seems she had asked the wrong people.

I was born with two powers: super hearing and the ability to read minds. The latter I try to avoid as much as possible; it feels like invading people’s privacy. But with super hearing, there’s no way to turn it off. All I can do is try to distract myself by focusing on something that captures my attention.

One of the main reasons I avoid using my powers is the discomfort of hearing what people think and say about you. Discovering what others are hiding can be devastating, and...

Oh, look. There’s a hand walking by itself.

I raise an eyebrow in confusion, but a slight smile escapes me at the unusual sight.

“Is something amusing you?” Wednesday Addams asks with a hint of venom in her voice. I look up, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as her dark eyes lock onto mine with a chilling intensity.

Her body is rigid, her posture upright, and her head held high with an unshakable pride.

As soon as I meet her gaze, a strange sensation crosses my mind. Then, a phrase materializes in my thoughts: I don’t like this girl. The feeling of discomfort replaces my initial embarrassment.

Enough, Y/N, I think to myself. Stop reading thoughts.

“Sorry, she’s just like that...” Enid interjects with a nervous smile, shooting a sidelong glance at her friend.

“No, it’s fine,” I quickly reply, trying to mask my discomfort as I set my suitcase on the floor.

Wednesday huffs with a hint of annoyance and gracefully walks over to her desk. She grabs the bag that was on the chair and, before leaving the room, gives me one last look that makes me wish I could disappear. Then, without a word, she steps out of Ophelia Hall.

“I think you should follow her,” Enid suggests with a small smile.

I give her a small wave, almost as a thank you, and hurry to exit, trying to keep up with the small but surprisingly fast Wednesday Addams.

Wednesday walks ahead of me, her steps light but purposeful, as I try to match her pace. She doesn’t look back or check if I’m following, but her silence is a clear signal that she expects me to keep up.

Wednesday stops in front of a large wrought-iron gate that leads to a circular outdoor space. In the center stands an old and somewhat eerie fountain, with five paths branching off in different directions, forming a sort of pentagon.

“Welcome to the Pentagram,” she says in her usual flat, unenthusiastic tone. “This is the heart of Nevermore Academy. From here, you can access all the main areas of the school... and encounter the different ‘categories’ of students.”

I stop beside her, observing the area. There’s a strange energy in the air, as if something darker lurks beneath the seemingly tranquil surroundings.

Wednesday turns slowly to face me, her dark eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes it hard to look away. “Here at Nevermore, we’re not all the same,” she explains, gesturing vaguely towards the paths around the fountain. “There are vampires, of course. They’re not as charming as in the movies, but they consider themselves quite superior.”

She indicates one of the paths with a slight nod of her head. “Then there are werewolves... Enid is an example. Unlike vampires, at least werewolves have a sense of loyalty, though their pack mentality can be... irritating.”

Continuing, she shifts her gaze to another path. “Mermaids,” she says, with a note of slight disdain in her voice. “They’re natural manipulators. They can control minds with their voices, but they’re very appearance-conscious. Never trust a mermaid. They have a talent for deception.”

She takes a brief pause and then gestures towards another corner of the courtyard. “And then there are the Gorgons. Not exactly Medusas, but if they look you in the eye without their special glasses, you turn to stone. Literally.”

I watch her closely, trying to discern if there’s a hint of irony in her tone, but her face remains impassive.

“Finally, there are those who don’t fit into any specific category,” she concludes, looking up at the dark sky above us. “The anomalies. People like me.”

“What do you mean by ‘anomalies’?” I ask, intrigued.

Wednesday stops and turns to face me, her black eyes shining with an intensity that makes it difficult to look away. “Anomalies,” she begins, “are people who don’t fit into the predefined groups of Nevermore. They don’t fall into common categories like vampires, werewolves, or mermaids. They are... different in ways that our classification can’t always explain.”

She looks at me with an expression that suggests how little she understands my curiosity. “They are individuals who possess unusual abilities or characteristics that defy the usual labels. Some may have strange powers, while others simply don’t conform to expectations.”

Her words leave me with a sense of wonder and a touch of unease. “So, students who don’t belong to any of the main groups are considered anomalies?”

“Exactly,” Wednesday confirms.

I remain silent for a moment, reflecting on what she has said. “Then I suppose I belong to this group.”

Wednesday gazes at me with attentive eyes. There’s a subtle shift in her expression, as if my question has finally piqued her interest. “What powers do you have?” she asks, her voice softer, almost interrogative.

My heart beats a little faster. I’ve never liked talking about my powers, but I can’t avoid this conversation. “I can... hear thoughts. And I have super hearing. Though I try to avoid using telepathy, out of respect for others’ privacy.”

As soon as I say this, I notice a slight stiffening in Wednesday’s shoulders. Instinctively and somewhat awkwardly, she raises her hands, bringing them near her head as if to build an invisible barrier around her mind for protection. The gesture is oddly endearing, a contrast to her usual unflappable demeanor.

“Are you reading my thoughts right now?” she asks, with a calm exterior, but her guard is clearly up.

“No!” I reply quickly, also raising my hands as if to demonstrate my innocence. “I never do it intentionally... unless it’s an emergency. I really do respect other people’s boundaries.”

Wednesday watches me for a long moment, scrutinizing every detail of my face as if trying to decide whether to trust my answer. Then, slowly, she lowers her hands, although she still seems cautious.

“It’s... an annoying power,” she comments finally. “It’s not very common here. Nevermore students tend to be very protective of their secrets.”

I lower my gaze, feeling embarrassed. “I know. That’s why I try not to use it.”

Wednesday gives a small nod of approval and, without adding anything else, turns and begins walking towards one of the paths in the Pentagram. After a few steps, she stops and looks back at me.

“Are you going to stand there staring all day, or do you plan on following me?” she asks in her flat tone. “The tour isn’t over.”

I take a deep breath and hurry to follow her. It seems that Nevermore still has many secrets to reveal... and Wednesday has no intention of slowing down for anyone.

Wednesday continues to lead me through the corridors of Nevermore, passing by groups of students chatting or hurrying to their destinations. She doesn’t seem to notice anyone around her, walking with a decisive and assured stride, expecting me to follow without question.

After navigating various narrow passages and dark staircases, we finally arrive at a pair of imposing dark wooden doors. Wednesday opens them without hesitation, revealing a vast hall filled with towering shelves brimming with books that seem as ancient as the school itself. The soft light adds an almost mystical touch to the environment.

“This is Nevermore's library,” Wednesday says in her usual flat tone. “A place many students use as an excuse for making out in hidden corridors or, worse, for reading poorly-written romance novels.”

I can’t help but smile slightly. “That’s not really my genre,” I reply, admiring the massive collection of books. “I prefer something more... stimulating. Like mystery or horror.”

Wednesday stops abruptly and turns toward me, with a slightly curious expression. Her dark eyes scrutinize me as if trying to determine whether I’m serious or just trying to impress her.

“Interesting,” she murmurs with a faint smile.

She gestures for me to follow as she makes her way through the library and heads toward the exit.

“So,” she begins in a measured tone, “if you prefer mystery and horror, who are your favorite authors? I hope you don’t just name the usual clichés.”

I sense that she’s testing me, seeing if I truly have an authentic knowledge of those genres. I think for a moment and then answer confidently. “Shirley Jackson, for example. Few manage to capture the hidden horror in everyday banality like she does.”

For a moment, I see something change in Wednesday’s expression. It’s uncommon to see her surprised, but it seems that the name I just mentioned has struck a chord with her. Her lips curl slightly into a barely perceptible smile.

“Shirley Jackson,” she repeats, as if savoring the name. “Finally, someone with good taste. We Have Always Lived in the Castle is a masterpiece of unease and despair.”

I can’t help but feel a bit satisfied for having passed her test. Wednesday continues to observe me for a few more seconds, then turns and resumes walking. Although she doesn’t say anything, there’s a new dynamic between us, a sort of mutual respect that wasn’t there before.

“Follow me,” she says finally. “There’s still much more to see.”

Wednesday continues to lead me through the school with her determined stride, guiding me down a long corridor that leads outside. We cross the courtyard and head toward a separate building, surrounded by climbing plants and well-tended shrubs.

“This is the greenhouse,” Wednesday says as we open the glass door. Inside, the greenhouse is a tangle of exotic plants, some with an unsettling appearance, with flowers in unnatural colors and leaves that seem to move on their own. “Here, the rarest and most poisonous plants are cultivated. Mortality biology, as I prefer to call it.”

As we observe a plant with leaves that shift slightly as we pass, Wednesday turns to me. “The greenhouse is managed by Professor Thornhill. Many people like to spend time here, but only a few truly understand the lethal potential of what grows here.”

I nod, a little intrigued and a little unsettled. The air is thick with intense scents, some sweet, others sharp, but all decidedly... strange.

Wednesday doesn’t linger longer than necessary. “Let’s go,” she says, quickly exiting as if the greenhouse is just one of many stops of the day.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, we arrive at the Nevermore gymnasium. We enter, and the atmosphere changes dramatically. The room is vast and well-lit, with walls adorned with ancient swords and shields, and fencing equipment neatly arranged. Some students are engaged in intense fencing sessions, maneuvering their swords with extraordinary skill, while others are working out with exercises that combine agility and strength in almost supernatural ways.

“The gym,” Wednesday says with a tone that reveals her disinterest. “Here many seek to refine their combat and fencing skills. It’s a place of competition and discipline. Personally, I prefer to exercise the mind rather than the body. However, if you like the idea of facing others in duels and tests of strength, this is the place.”

I watch the students training fervently, their swords glinting under the fluorescent lights, and the fluid and precise movements of their techniques. It seems like a dynamic and competitive environment, very different from the other areas of the school.

Wednesday continues to walk, passing by the ongoing training. “It’s not my ideal environment, but every corner of Nevermore has its purpose,” she adds, casting a distracted glance at the room. “Don’t worry if it doesn’t seem like your kind of place. Many students feel at home here, but there are others who prefer different spaces to express their abilities.”

Although this part of the school is vibrant and full of energy, it’s not the kind of place where I would feel comfortable. But, as Wednesday says, every place has its role, and Nevermore seems to have a spot for every type of person.

Wednesday gestures for me to follow her again, and we head toward another room. As we enter, the smell of food immediately hits us. The large space is crowded with students talking among themselves as they line up to get food or sit at long tables.

“The cafeteria,” Wednesday comments, observing the environment with an almost disgusted air. “Where the common people eat and socialize. If you’re lucky, you might find a quiet corner. But don’t expect much in terms of culinary quality.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her comment. The chaotic atmosphere of the cafeteria makes me feel a bit uncomfortable, but at least it’s warmer compared to the greenhouse and gym.

“We won’t stay here,” Wednesday says quickly, leading me out again. We move toward a quieter, more serene part of the school.

Wednesday guides me down the corridors of Nevermore, her pace steady and unyielding. “So, you’ve seen almost everything,” she says, breaking a silence that had only been interrupted by our footsteps. “If you have any other questions, now’s the time.”

Taking advantage of her openness, I ask, “I’ve noticed that everyone wears the purple uniform except for you. Why?”

Wednesday raises an eyebrow and gives me a scrutinizing look. “The purple uniforms are standard for all students at Nevermore. They represent a sense of belonging and uniformity. However, my black attire is a personal choice.”

Her answer seems a bit cryptic, so I continue probing. “But is there a specific reason you wear black? It’s not a rule, is it?”

Wednesday smiles slightly, an expression that could be interpreted as a kind of personal satisfaction. “Black is a manifestation of my style and preferences. It’s not so much a rebellion against norms as it is a statement of individuality.”

“I see,” I say, reflecting on her comment. “So it’s a conscious choice that reflects your personality.”

“Exactly,” Wednesday replies with a tone suggesting that the conversation might be closing there.

“Do you know where your room is?” Wednesday asks, raising her gaze with an impatient question.

I raise an eyebrow and reply with a subtle smile, “It’s practically yours.”

Wednesday looks at me with intensity, as if evaluating my answer. “I know, but I have to go somewhere else, and I’m not sure if you know how to get there.”

“I can find it,” I say calmly. “Thanks for the tour.”

As I look at her, I notice her eyes fixate on me with a penetrating intensity. I take a moment to observe her closely. Her figure is petite and slender, but she exudes a presence that fills the space around her. Her black hair is neatly styled in two braids that fall down her back. Her pale face is dotted with subtle freckles that seem to peek timidly above her nose and on her cheeks. These small details add an unexpected dimension to her austere beauty.

Her dark eyes are like two deep wells reflecting an eerie light, and her thin, well-groomed eyebrows accentuate her detached expression. She wears the black school uniform, which fits perfectly with her elegant figure and stern demeanor. Her movements are fluid and measured, imparting an aura of control and authority.

In her mind, I catch the thought: I don’t know if she’s reading, but this girl is really interesting. My cheeks involuntarily flush.

Wednesday, noticing my embarrassment, tilts her head slightly to the side and adds with a faint smile, She’s cute when she blushes

I try to look away and calm the redness on my face, feeling a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. “Again, thanks for the tour,” I say, trying to keep my composure.

Wednesday gives a nod of approval and resumes walking, leaving me with thoughts about her words and the impression of how Nevermore can be both fascinating and enigmatic.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #miércoles addams #wednesday addams x you #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega imagine #tour #wednesday x y/n #x y/n #y/n

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i-ship · 1 month ago

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Body language analysis:

First Image:

The interaction is very intimate.

• The man’s gesture (holding her wrist): This conveys admiration, respect, or romantic undertones. It’s a traditional yet powerful expression of closeness. His gaze, focused and intense, suggests deep attention to her and a level of seriousness or intensity in the moment.

• The woman in red (her posture and expression): Her arm is relaxed, and she’s maintaining eye contact. This suggests openness and confidence. Her body language is calm but engaged, indicating that she’s fully present in the moment. The slight turn of her head could imply curiosity, playfulness, or trust.

This image feels almost theatrical, as if they’re playing into an elegant or romantic narrative, possibly for the camera. However, the tension in their expressions suggests it’s more than surface-level, and there’s a genuine connection underlying the interaction.

Second Image:

The interaction here feels more intense and personal.

• Proximity: They’re standing extremely close, with their bodies angled toward one another, implying a high degree of trust or comfort. This closeness creates a sense of intimacy and exclusivity, as if the rest of the world has fallen away.

• The man’s expression: His face is serious, focused entirely on her. This conveys that he’s emotionally invested in the moment. His body is slightly stiff, which could either reflect a conscious restraint or nervous energy.

• The woman in red: Her posture is upright, her hand resting lightly on his chest. This indicates a level of trust and emotional openness. Her expression is neutral but engaged, as if she’s studying him or lost in the moment.

Both images are charged with a mix of professional elegance and personal emotion, leaving room for multiple interpretations.

What is their personal relationship according to these images?

Based on their body language in these images, one might infer that their personal relationship goes beyond professional colleagues. Their interactions display a level of comfort, trust, and intensity that could suggest a close friendship or a deeper emotional connection.

Key Indicators:

1. Intense Gaze: In both images, the man is deeply focused on the woman, suggesting admiration or emotional investment. This isn’t typical of purely professional interactions and points to a personal bond.

2. Proximity and Touch: Their closeness and physical interaction—her hand on his chest and his gesture of holding her wrist—convey trust and familiarity. These are intimate gestures that often reflect a strong connection.

3. Shared Comfort: Both appear entirely at ease with each other, despite the intimate nature of the poses. This ease typically stems from a solid personal rapport.

4. Underlying Tension: While they appear professional on the surface, the intensity in their expressions hints at an emotional undercurrent, as though there’s more to their connection than what’s visible.

While these elements could simply reflect two people who work well together and are comfortable expressing emotions for the sake of a photoshoot, the depth and intensity suggest they share a significant and possibly complex personal relationship, whether it’s a close friendship, lingering chemistry, or something more.

#caitriona balfe #sam x cait #samcait #outlander #sam heughan

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literaryvein-reblogs · 1 month ago

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Writing Notes: Body Language

Body language - involves communication provided through nonverbal channels. This includes posture, facial expressions, eye movement/contact, proximity to others, and physical movements (Pease, 2017).

Body Language vs. Nonverbal Communication

Nonverbal communication - includes all forms of communicative acts except speech.

Body language - a type of nonverbal communication. It lies under the umbrella of nonverbal communication, which encompasses a broader scope of communication (Milton & Randall, 2022).

One way to differentiate between the two is to think about body language as all the nonverbal communication that can be seen (Milton & Randall, 2022).

Nonverbal communication that is not considered body language (or cannot be seen) includes repetition of words or statements, vocal characteristics of speech such as tone and volume, and sounds that might not be considered words such as “hmm” and “uh-huh.”

Some types of body language include:

Facial expressions. The face is an extremely expressive form of body language, with the ability to communicate numerous emotions without a single word. From anger to anxiety, fear to grief, embarrassment to disgust, facial expressions are one form of nonverbal communication that is considered universal across cultures and species (Keltner, 2009).

Gestures. Hand, arm, and body gestures are part of daily life. So much so that now in video calls or online meetings, a hand gesture or arm movement can simulate a thumbs-up or heart emoji. Gestures can be positive, such as an “OK” signal, or negative. Gestures are largely cultural and may express different meanings depending on geography and ethnicity.

Posture. How an individual moves and holds themselves communicates information in subtle and powerful ways. Posture includes how someone sits, holds their head, stands, walks, and engages their physical stance.

Eye contact. Our visual sense is especially important in nonverbal communication. The way we look at others can communicate many things and help to improve or detract from the flow of conversation. Eye contact can convey affection, anger, attraction, and interest, among other things.

Physical touch. Physical touch is a powerful form of body language and nonverbal communication. From hugs to handshakes, touch demonstrates a variety of messages. Touch is also a very personal way to express interest, emotion, and engagement with others and can be received well or create discomfort and tension.

Personal space. Physical space in interactions is also a very personal aspect of body language. Our need for or comfort with it depends a great deal on culture, the specific relationship, personal preferences, past experience, and the given situation. Understanding other people’s boundaries is an important component of assessing the need for personal space.

As more interpersonal communication becomes virtual, it is important to be aware of how body language is portrayed on a screen. Some ideas to consider in virtual sessions include:

Make sure lighting is sufficient so clients and/or members can see facial expressions and pick up on body movement.

Be aware of posture. It is easy to get too comfortable behind a screen and hunch over. Have good support when sitting, staying upright and attentive.

Maintain healthy eye contact. It may be beneficial to shift between looking at the screen and looking directly at the camera to avoid uncomfortable stares.

Avoid touching the face and head too much, as this conveys insecurity and can be a distraction.

Smile and use warm facial gestures, as the face is the main thing people see in virtual meetings.

Use hand gestures. This will require the computer or recording device to be placed far enough away to capture some of the upper body.

Cultural differences in body language exist. Below are samples that have been observed. It is not an extensive list of all cultural differences in body language, but it demonstrates that ongoing education and awareness are important when working with others in personal and professional settings.

Hand gestures. A thumbs-up in Western cultures is a signal of “OK,” but in the Middle East it is a sign of “up yours.” Similarly, curling the index finger (a sign to move closer) is considered impolite and rude in areas such as China and the Philippines (Cortez et al., 2017).

Eye contact. Most Western countries view eye contact as a sign of confidence and interest. In many Middle Eastern countries, eye contact between sexes is deemed inappropriate, and in some Asian cultures, unbroken eye contact is seen as aggressive and confrontational (Cortez et al., 2017).

Touch. Northern Europe and Far East cultures engage in very little physical contact or touch, where physical touch is a large part of socializing in the Middle East and Latin America (Cortez et al., 2017).

Seated positions. In Japan, sitting cross-legged is a sign of disrespect, and showing the soles of the feet is offensive in Middle Eastern countries (Cortez et al., 2017).

Interpreting Body Language

Argyle (1978) was one of the first modern researchers to study nonverbal communication and believed that humans have more than 700,000 forms of body language. Some specific areas to note for interpreting body language include paying attention to the head, face, eyes, arms, and hands.

Head. Nodding when another person is speaking is a sign that you are focused and listening. It can demonstrate that you agree with or acknowledge what is being said and validate opinions. Tilting the head to one side is also a sign of attentive listening and respect. Both of these are considered positive gestures in conversation. A lowered head or head back with a rigid neck is a sign of a negative attitude, criticism, denial, or rejection. When someone is supporting their head with their hands, this is a sign of boredom and disinterest. And angling the chin upward is a sign of arrogance and dominance (Danesi, 2022).

Face. As most people know, smiling is an open, approachable facial gesture that indicates warmth and interest. On the other hand, frowning is a sign of anger, disinterest, or disagreement with what is being communicated. Raising the eyebrows is a sign of surprise, and raising a single eyebrow tends to be an expression of disbelief. Pursed lips tend to demonstrate anger, sorrow, or a lack of acceptance, depending on the situation (Danesi, 2022).

Eyes. It is often said that the eyes are the window to the soul. Eye contact is the basis for understanding in conversation. When eye contact is avoided, it may demonstrate discomfort, uncertainty, or shyness, or signal that the person has something to hide. When someone’s eyes are narrowed, it could indicate anger. Briefly closing the eyes and quickly opening them again is called confirmatory blinking and can indicate confirmation or approval of another person (Danesi, 2022). Narrowing the eyes can mean several things, such as confusion or a need for more information. It may also indicate concentration or anger. It is also important to notice the pupils. Dilated pupils can demonstrate interest and attraction, while widening the eyes can signal surprise or excitement.

Arms and hands. Upper body postures consist largely of the arms and hands, which are the most mobile and prominent demonstrations of body language. Crossing the arms is a way for someone to create distance and demonstrates a negative attitude (Danesi, 2022). When arms are crossed and the individual is gripping their upper arms, this signals tension and discomfort. Arms crossed with balled fists are also negative body language but signal aggression and anger. Putting hands on the hips can be a sign of aggression or dominance. Putting hands in pockets signals a lack of engagement and defensiveness (Danesi, 2022).

General Tips on Interpreting Body Language

In general, self-confident people frequently look at their reflection in mirrors or windows and place themselves in a position to be the center of discussion. People demonstrate confidence through large gestures, big postures, self-assured smiles, firm handshakes, and steady eye contact. Embarrassment, insecurity, and low confidence are seen through nervous laughter, avoidance of eye contact, turning away, and avoidance (Mandal, 2014).

Nonverbal cues of fear can be seen with wide eyes, clutching, and gripping. Holding the breath, glancing around, and placing hands in front of the body is also a sign of fear (Mandal, 2014).

People demonstrate resentment with crossed arms, a stiffened body, hunched shoulders, and low vocal tone (Mandal, 2014).

Sexual interest and attraction can be seen through eye contact, exaggerated facial gestures, blinking, wetting the lips, touching the body, or crossing and uncrossing legs (Mandal, 2014).

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hand Movements ⚜ Common Gestures ⚜ Facial Expressions

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alphynix · 8 months ago

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Modern mammals are the only living representatives of the synapsids, but back during the Permian there were numerous other evolutionary branches – first the pelycosaurs, and later their descendant the therapsids.

Some of the first non-mammalian therapsids were the biarmosuchians, mid-sized carnivores with a more upright posture than their pelycosaur ancestors. They had large canine teeth in their jaws and powerful bites, and some of them also developed elaborate ornamentation on their skulls, with various bony bumps and crests adorning their faces.

Pachydectes elsi was a 1.5m long (~5') biarmosuchian living in what is now South Africa during the late Permian, about 265 million years ago. Bone texture indicates its head ornamentation was covered by either tough thickened skin or a keratinous sheath, and the large bulbous bosses on the sides of its snout had a particularly rich blood supply, suggesting these structures could have been continuously growing throughout its entire life.

But despite how well-protected it looked, Pachydectes' skull was actually relatively fragile and wouldn't have been able to withstand the impact forces of using its headgear for fighting or defense. Instead it may have been mostly used for visual display – and the blood supply to the snout bosses might even have given it the ability to "blush" them if they had a soft-tissue covering.

———

NixIllustration.com | Tumblr | Patreon

References:

Benoit, J., et al. "Early synapsids neurosensory diversity revealed by CT and synchrotron scanning." The Anatomical Record (2024). https://doi.org/10.1002/ar.25445

Rubidge, Bruce S., Christian A. Sidor, and Sean P. Modesto. "A new burnetiamorph (Therapsida: Biarmosuchia) from the middle Permian of South Africa." Journal of Paleontology 80.4 (2006): 740-749. https://doi.org/10.1666/0022-3360(2006)80[740:ANBTBF]2.0.CO;2

Wikipedia contributors. “Biarmosuchia.” Wikipedia, 13 Feb. 2024, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biarmosuchia

Wikipedia contributors. “Pachydectes.” Wikipedia, 7 Feb. 2024, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pachydectes

#science illustration #paleontology #paleoart #palaeoblr #pachydectes #burnetiidae #biarmosuchia #therapsid #synapsid #stem-mammal #art

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miraculan-draws · 9 months ago

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Something I find. VERY fascinating—like a lot of this is just vibe reads verging on hc but bear with me—

Cazador Szarr is very like...buttoned up? We hear him described as a very powerful monster by Astarion through the whole game and when you finally meet him he's like so PRIM. He's not unhinged or rabid. His body language is very upright and rigid. He's buttoned up to the neck, not a hair out of place. He has an objectively handsome symmetry to his face, but not moreso than any other elves we see in-game really. There is a strange sort of like. Sexless read I get on him that feels intentional—theres none of the classic "Dracula" appeal with him, despite the fact that THATS the role he pushed the spawn into. There's nothing to be drawn to. He's a possessed mannequin. There's nothing left to pick away at or gnaw on until youve killed him.

And so much of the violence described in this quest line is psychosexual in nature, but its orchestral conductor, its engineer, does not wear that nature in his appearance or posture or speech. You almost picture a smarmy Gortash type to be our master vampire, but no. It's a neat and tidy Cazador Szarr. It is fascinating design and writing.

#bg3 #astarion #cazador szarr

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illyrianbitch · 10 months ago

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A Helping Hand

Pairing: Reader x Bat Boys

Summary: Even most powerful males in Prythian need relationship advice from their best friend.

Warnings: males bein males about females (but theyre well meaning), brief mentions of sexual encounters, crack & friendship fluff!!

Word Count: 3.3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

There was one thing about Cassian that you’d come to know over the centuries you’d been friends: the male could talk.

He was on a new tangent now, describing the details of a strange dream he’d had a few days prior, casually laying across the couch with his feet propped up on the arm rests. How his wings weren’t uncomfortable being smushed underneath him and the couch cushions, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t about to ask and risk another hour long explanation of how nothing phases him because he's “just that male.”

“And the princess next to him looked exactly like Az-”

You let out a groan, pushing yourself to sit upright from your current slouched position, staring at Cassian with a confused expression. “Cass,” you said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He stopped mid sentence, turning to look at you with an open mouth and a blank stare. “My dream. Were you not listening?”

You gave him a look. “No.”

He frowned. “Well, that's rude. I listen to all of your dreams.”

“No, you don’t.”

He stilled for a moment, holding your stare, and then a giant grin broke out on his face. “Ah, you got me. I don’t.”

You let out a small snort before shaking your head and taking another deep breath. “Can we get back to why you needed to talk to me in the first place?”

Cassian’s face lit up in acknowledgement, and then he was readjusting himself to a proper sitting position, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “Right, okay. I need your expertise on matters of the heart."

You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. “Okay…”

"Alright, so you know that female I’ve been with?"

You raised your eyebrows. “You have to be more specific than that.”

He stilled for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. Then he grinned, “The one who I said tasted like honey?”

You grimaced at his description. But Cass didn’t notice as he continued, “She’s super pretty. Real nice too, she gave you those little treats, remember?”

You thought back to the previous weeks, faintly remembering running into a female in the kitchen. You were still hungover from the night prior, so you didn’t remember much about the small conversation you’d held with her, but you did remember those treats— and the way she stared at Cassian longingly.

“I remember,” you finally said. “What about her?”

“I like her. I think she’s really cool. So, I want to do something to impress her, maybe ask her out for real.”

You smiled at him, a small, gentle, upside down smile that formed a small pout as you said, “Aw, Cass, you softie.”

The male in front of you grinned again, offering you a small shrug. “What can I say, I’m pussy-whipped.”

Your smile fell and you rolled your eyes. Well, that moment was nice while it lasted. You took a deep breath before leaning forward more, matching Cassian’s posture.

"She really liked you, so I don’t think you can go wrong. Just do what feels right.”

Cassian’s grin grew as he nodded his head in contemplation. "Alright,” he said, “Hear me out. I'm thinking of making a grand gesture outside her apartment, something to really show her how I feel."

You nodded, intrigued. "Okay, go on."

"And get this," He leaned in closer, a childlike glee in his voice as he continued, "I'll do it butt-ass naked, with a ribbon tied around my—"

Your hand shot up in front of you, a single finger pointed to cut him off mid-sentence. A deep sigh escaped you as you brought the hand to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"So, I stand corrected,” you said with a disappointed nod. “You can go wrong."

Cassian's expression faltered, confusion evident in his features as he frowned. "What? You just told me—"

"Yeah, that was before you said that terrible idea," you interrupted, shaking your head in disbelief. "Don't do that. Do anything but that."

He sat up straighter, his lips slightly upturned now, a glint in his eyes. "Anything?"

You paused, remembering your earlier encouragement. Then you let out a deep sound of frustration. "Dude, just get her some flowers."

"But that's so boring,” he whined, “Like, Rhys boring. I gotta go big or go home, you know?"

You let out a groan at the ceiling, letting yourself fall back into the couch with an exasperated flare of your hands. "At this rate, please go home. I'm begging you."

But then, just as Cassian was about to let himself fall back into the couch, a mischievous grin spread across his face. "I've got an idea,” he said, quickly jumping off the couch.

He stopped midway, turning around to walk over to you in a few quick strides. He leaned down, managing to plant a quick kiss on your cheek before running away again.

“Thanks, Y/n. Love you!”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was a quiet morning in the townhouse, gentle rays of sun shining through the opened kitchen window. You rubbed your tired eyes as you looked outside, waiting for the remnants of your sleep to disappear with the new day. Your hands held onto the small apple in your grasp, running your fingers along the fruit as you stared outside. With a small hum of contentment, you turned around to head back to your room.

You bumped into a large mass as you turned around, a dark figure shrouded in shadows as it stood still before you.

“Holy fuck!”

The apple fell from your hands as you jumped back, eyes blinking rapidly as Azriel’s presence registered before you, a small amused smile on his face. You let out a deep breath, hands flying to your heavily beating heart. You glared at him, your gaze quickly flickering down to your waist, where a small black mass floated around your apple— suspended in mid air as it was caught during its fall.

You quickly snatched the apple back, watching as the shadows happily trailed back to Azriel, their black forms settling behind his back and above his shoulders. You brought your glare back to Azriel’s face.

He did this to you often, quieting the sound of hit footsteps with his shadows to make his entrances stealthy and unnoticed. It never got old to him, how often you’d get caught off guard and send a glare his way, usually accompanied by a string of curses he’d never heard put together.

“Footsteps make noise for a reason, Az,” you grumbled, “So you don’t make your loved ones shit their pants.”

His eyebrows raised slightly, and you didn’t miss the movement of a lone tendril moving towards you— you lightly swatted it away, redirecting it like a small, curious puppy.

“I didn’t mean literally, you ass.”

Azriel only grinned in response, a small laugh leaving his lips. “It just never gets old.”

His hair was slightly tousled, messy across his forehead. He wore a simple black shirt and sweatpants, a casual, lazy look that he often adorned on quiet, slow, mornings like these— this version of Az, laid-back and comfortable, was one solely reserved for the townhouse, and only for you and your family.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes at him. “What do you want?”

Az frowned slightly. “Good Morning to you, too, I guess.”

“It was a good morning, until you disrupted my peace. What do you want?”

Azriel’s face held a mischievous smile as he shrugged. “Why do you think I want something?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Because I know you. And you’re wearing your I need a favor face.”

He scowled at this, letting out a small sound of offense. “That's not a real thing.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No,” he protested again, “I don’t have faces. This is just my face.”

“Az,” you groaned. “Get to the point please. What do you want?”

He let out a sigh of defeat before he shifted on his feet. “Fine, I need your he-”

You pointed an excited finger in his face. “Aha,” you said loudly, “I knew you needed something!”

Yet again, he scowled at this, lightly knocking your finger out of his face with his palm. He gave you a flat look.

“Ow.”

“Can I speak now?”

You held your hands up in resignation, finally bringing the apple to your mouth as you took a small bite.

“Pierla won’t leave me alone.”

You frowned at him, brows furrowing slightly. “Who?”

Somehow, Azriel’s face fell even flatter, and he stared at you with an unammused look. “Y/n,” he said, almost scolding you with an exasperated tone.

“What?” you said. “I’m sorry I don’t keep track of every female you guys bed. My fault.”

He rolled his eyes, and you resisted the urge to either scoff in disbelief or mimic his movements. Sure, laid-back and comfortable Azriel was reserved for the townhouse and morning like this, but so was sassy Azriel and his impatience as well. You preferred the first— and only the second when it was directed at anyone but you.

“I slept with her like five days ago.”

“Okay,” you drawled, “And now she won’t leave you alone.”

He nodded, letting out a small sigh.

You stared at him, brows still furrowed, a frown now on your face that crinkled your nose. “Well that sucks.”

He stared at you again, the same flat and unamused look on his face. A flicker of irritation ran through his hazel eyes. “Y/n.”

You lifted your hands up in exasperation, the apple still held in one hand, adorned by the lone bite you’d been granted to take. “What?” you responded, “The hell am I supposed to do about that? That’s a pp.”

“A pp?”

You pursed your lips, preparing yourself to hold back a laugh. “A personal problem.”

He let out a sound of frustration. “Really?”

You let your mouth fall open in response. “Again, I reiterate, what am I supposed to do in this situation?”

“I don’t know!” His hands flew out in desperation as he shrugged, his shadows bouncing to the edges of his fingertips. “Help me, or something. Please.”

“Did you tell her you’re not interested?”

“Yes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you tell her you’re not interested?”

“Vocally? No. Physically? Yes.”

You scrunched your face in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

Azriel brought a finger to the bridge of his nose. You rolled your eyes, not waiting for him to respond as you added, “Why are you acting frustrated right now? You put yourself in this position, Az.”

For what felt like the millionth time in the conversation, Az scowled. “I’m well aware of the position I’m currently placed in, Y/n.”

You brought the apple to your mouth, taking advantage of the moment of silence to actually indulge in the sole reason you’d been in the kitchen in the first place. Taking a few seconds to chew, you mulled over the options at hand.

“Next time you’re with her, just stare.”

Azriel blinked. “What.”

“You have this stare you do when you zone out, it's creepy. And unnerving. It makes me want to apologize for things I’ve never done.”

His eyebrows raised in amusement, a slight smirk forming on his lips. You narrowed your eyes before letting your face fall, as you frowned at him, arms falling lax at your sides. “You do it on purpose, don’t you?”

His smirk grew. “Never,” he replied, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. “But good idea, I’ll do that. Thanks, Y/n.”

As he turned his back and began walking out, you quickly sent a vulgar gesture to his back, angrily sticking up your middle finger in mockery.

“Saw that,” he sang over his shoulders. You casted your gaze down to a lone shadow that danced before you.

“Snitch,” you whispered down to it, watching as it began sliding to Azriel’s retreating form.

His voice rang out from the hallway, “Heard that, too.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Velaris was extra lively this morning, and it made your day even better.

You always found it so special that despite his duties as High Lord, Rhys never missed the tradition of getting breakfast with you every other Wednesday. You couldn’t quite remember when the tradition started, surely centuries ago when you both were younger, deciding that Wednesday’s needed a specific pick-me-up to get through the rest of the week. But the tradition formed, and it stayed for centuries. And, truly, you loved it. It always gave you a sense of comfort— a reminder that things may always change around you, but never when it came to the bond you shared with your boys, and with Rhysand especially.

But Rhys was quiet this morning, absentmindedly picking at the flakes of the croissant on his table.

You let out a small laugh. “Okay, spill. What the hell happened to you?”

Rhys slowly angled his head to look up at you, face distorted in defeat. “Females,” he muttered. “That’s what happened.”

You frowned, placing the croissant back down on the plate before you. You dusted your hands of crumbs. “Usually you say that word with a lot more excitement.”

He raised his eyebrows in response, and you watched as he rolled his eyes slightly. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

You lifted an eyebrow of your own. “What did you do?”

He brought his gaze back to you. “I’ve been fucking around with the twins.”

You frowned in confusion.

“...Nuala and Cerridwen?” You whispered, leaning closer to him, face scrunched.

You let your mind wander for a moment, thinking about the two twins that Rhysand had welcomed into your home. You loved the sisters dearly, and even you can admit they were beautiful— a type of beauty you didn’t really know how to describe, but beautiful nonetheless. But they were more shadows than they were form, not tangible enough to….have sex with, you assumed. You blinked.

“W-What?” Rhysand said, eyes widening slightly. “No. The twins from Rita’s last weekend.”

“Oh,” you breathed out with a relieved smile. And then you thought back to the two females Rhys had left with, a grin forming on your face.” Oh,” you said, amused. You leaned forward bumped his shoulders with a gentle fist. “Nice.”

“Not nice,” he grumbled, letting his back fall against the metal back of the chair. He let out an exasperated sigh. Your gaze trailed to the streets next to you, catching the sight of a few passerbys taking in the scene of their defeated High Lord. You cleared your throat, leaning forward in your chair to place your elbows on the table.

“Okay, I’m confused,” you said, “Why is this not a good thing? Seventeen year old Rhysand would be pissing in excitement right now.”

Rhys let out a small snicker at this, a small smirk on his face at the image. But then it quickly fell when he let out another grumble.

“Rhys, people are looking at you and making fun of you.”

He sprung up at this, eyes quickly searching his surroundings. He made eye contact with a few citizens, sprouting a large, charming grin on his face as he lifted a hand in greeting. The groups hesitantly gave a wave back, opting for small smiles before they went on their way.

Rhysand then looked at you once more, leaning forward to grab your hands in his.

“I’m an honest male. I’m allowed to make mistakes, right?”

It was becoming suspicious now, and you narrowed your eyes at him with pursed lips.

“What did you do?”

He gave you a small, guilty smile, perfect teeth on display.

“I bought them flowers, right? Just a sweet, classic, gesture to show them I was interested.”

You resisted the urge to laugh. It was, indeed, a sweet gesture, but Cassian’s words from earlier in the week rang in your mind, his joke about flowers being a boring move-- a boring Rhys move. You didn’t hide your amusement well enough, though, and Rhysand narrowed his eyes at you, tapping your hands lightly to draw your attention back.

“What?” he said.

You shook your head, giving him a small, inconspicuous smile. Then you offered him a shrug. “Nothing. Keep talking.”

He kept his eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he gave up, letting out another dramatic-Rhysand sigh. “But apparently, I gave each of the flowers to the wrong twin. And now they’re mad that I can’t tell them apart. I mean, they’re identical, Y/n. As amazing as I am, I’m no god.”

You let out a small snort, staring at him with an amused smile. “You can literally read minds.”

He opened his mouth. And then closed it.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “That hadn’t occurred to me.”

You laughed, readjusting your hands so now it was yours that lay otop of his. You gave a gentle pat. “But that’s wrong. So you need to find a way to differentiate them, at least if you want to keep whatever it is you have going.”

“It’s fun,” he said, as a grin began to grow on his face. “One female is great, but sisters?” He let out a small whistle, “Whole other experience.”

You grimaced. “Rhysand,” you scolded, “Don’t be such a male. I was going to offer to help you. I take it back.”

“No, no,” he said, looking at you with wide eyes. He then gave you a pout, “Please.”

You held his stare for a moment, watched as he titled his head and gave you an innocent, charming, boyish smile.

“Fine,” you finally said, “But you owe me.”

Rhysand grinned, large and broad, as he sat back into his chair and picked up the small desert on his plate. “I always do,” he said with a gleam in his eye, bringing the croissant to his mouth.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It took you a few days, four to be exact, before you were able to fulfill the promise you’d made to Rhysand. It was nighttime now as you finally returned to the townhouse for the day. From down the hall, you could see the dim faelight pouring out from Rhysand’s office, his door wide open.

Once you reached the doorway, you perched yourself in it, leaning against it as you cleared your throat.

“Leyra is slightly shorter and has two dimples. Kerala has shorter hair, one dimple, and a freckle on her chin.”

Rhysand looked up from his papers, sitting up right in his chair with a smile on his face. “Have I told you how amazing you are?”

You gave him a grin. “Add it to the list.”

Rhys laughed, tilting his head as he took in a relaxed breath. “Thank you.”

You gave him a small nod of your head as you began walking out. But before you took a step to leave, you popped your head back into the view of the doorway, wrapping your hand around the edge of the frame.

“Kerala also has a freckle on the inside of her right thigh. Kinda looks like a little heart.”

Rhysand’s face furrowed, and then his mouth fell open slightly. He narrowed his eyes.

“How do you know that?”

You grinned at him for the second time that night, giving the frame of the doorway a pat with your hands. Then you shrugged. “You never told me how you wanted me to help.”

Before Rhys could register your words, you were walking away, your figure disappearing from his open door.

When it finally hit, Rhys let out a small chuckle. Then, he shrugged to himself, returning to his work with an amused smile.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

bat boys tag list 🫶🏻: @willowpains @maevecrom @vansaddy

712 notes · View notes

ponderingmoonlight · 2 months ago

Text

yotd men walking in on you in a hot spring

Pairings: Shin-Ah x fem!reader; Hak/Kija x fem!reader; Bonus with all yotd men hehe

Word Count: 4,6k

Warnings: it's getting heated in Hak's part y'all hehe

I would super duper appreciate it if you like even though you're not a fan of Yona of the Dawn but because of me hehe <3

Shin-Ah accidentally protecting you from danger

The hot spring’s warmth soothes every aching muscle in your tired body, the gentle lap of water against the rocks almost hypnotic. You tilt your head back, letting the steam curl around you like a protective cocoon while you can’t help but let out a sign of relief. When was the last time you’ve had some time for yourself? Away from constant danger, away from the snide remarks of Hak and Jae-Ha who annoy you straight to the core. No, it’s just you and the moon-lit forest around the spring which hums with life - chirping crickets, rustling leaves, and the distant call of a bird.

But then, the forest goes quiet.

The sudden stillness prickles at the back of your neck. You sit upright, scanning the tree line, your heart thumping louder than the now-muted sounds of nature. What on earth was that? Should you…call for the boys?

“SOMEONE HEL-“

Before you can call out, a shadow moves. There’s a blur of movement, and then he’s there.

Shin-Ah steps into the clearing like a ghost, his sword glowing faintly in his grasp. His golden eyes flash across you, scanning the surroundings with deadly precision.

“Shin-Ah?” you call, startled, your voice cracking slightly.

You instinctively sink deeper into the water, heat rushing to your face. There might be something dangerous out there, but…

You’re still completely naked.

His head snaps toward you, his gaze meeting yours. For a moment, his body remains rigid, and you swear his grip on his sword tightens. Then, slowly but surely, recognition dawns. His posture softens just slightly, though his eyes dart around the spring’s edge.

“Danger,” he murmurs, his voice low and clipped.

He’s still scanning the shadows as if expecting something, or someone, to emerge.

“Danger?” you echo, confusion lacing your tone.

“I didn’t…wait, is there something out there?”

Shin-Ah takes a step closer, the faint glow of his dragon power intensifying. You can see his chest rise and fall beneath his cloak as he breathes deeply, his heightened senses working overtime. Then, from the bushes nearby, there’s a rustle and a loud, sudden croak.

Your heart skips a beat, your body instinctively pressing against Shin-Ah’s. You’ve never really been a fighter, only joined because Yona is your best friend. You can’t die out here, butt-naked in a hot spring while taking a bath, right?

A frog leaps into the clearing, landing with an awkward splash near the water’s edge.

For a moment, neither of you move. Then Shin-Ah’s shoulders slump, his sword’s light fades as he lowers the blade. The danger was nothing but a…frog?

You burst into laughter, the tension in your body evaporating while you’re forced to hold onto Shin-Ah’s shoulder for support.

“You thought a frog was dangerous?”

Shin-Ah turns back and glances at you, his mask hiding any expression, but the way he hesitates and fidgets with Ao’s tail betrays his embarrassment. His ears, you notice, are bright red by now.

Still smiling, you tilt your head at him.

“You didn’t have to rush in so dramatically, you know. I was perfectly fine. Even though I have to admit I was glad seeing you when I heard that strange noise.”

But then his eyes flicker down to the water - and widen slightly as realization dawns.

Your body is pressed against his, your skin burning through his wet clothes. But it’s not only the fact that you’re touching him.

You’re…you’re nude.

His entire body stiffens, and he takes a quick step back, his hand gripping Ao a little too tightly while he stumbles back like an idiot.

You follow his gaze and remember too late: you’re naked in the hot spring. And to top it all off, you pressed your naked body against his.

“Shin-Ah!” you shout, sinking deeper into the water, your face burning hotter than the steam surrounding you.

“Don’t look!”

“I…I wasn’t!” he stammers, his voice higher-pitched than usual.

He turns so quickly that he almost trips on the hem of his cloak, spinning on his heel to face away from you. You can see the tips of his ears glowing crimson beneath his hood.

“I… I didn’t notice. I mean - I noticed, but I wasn’t looking-!”

Before you can stop yourself, a giggle escapes your lips. Did you ever feel more embarrassed than right now? Well, no matter how embarrassed you feel, one look at Shin-Ah’s tensed back tells you more than urgently that he feels 10 times worse.

“I hope I didn’t scare you with that body of mine-“

“Scaring me? Your body isn’t scary at all! I mean…I mean…-“

“What’s going on back there? (y/n), are you-…What the hell is going on here!?”, Hak blurts out while stepping into the scene.

“Hak, get lost!”, you shriek, hands desperately trying to cover your sensitive parts.

Hak pauses, taking in the scene with his signature smirk growing wider and wider by each passing second. His gaze bounces between Shin-Ah, who is still stiff and glowing faintly, and you, nearly submerged in the water.

“Well, well,” Hak drawls, crossing his arms with a cocked eyebrow.

“This is a unique look for the two of you. I didn’t realize you were having private lessons in…whatever this is.”

“It’s not like that!” you yell, mortification threatening to drown you more thoroughly than the hot spring itself.

“And don’t look, you idiot!”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not looking-” Hak teases, though his eyes deliberately flick to Shin-Ah.

“But it looks like Shin-Ah got an eyeful.”

At that, Shin-Ah’s head snaps up, his wide, horrified gaze fixed firmly on Hak.

“I… I didn’t! I-!” His voice wavers, flustered beyond words, as his golden eyes dart everywhere but toward you.

Hak’s grin only deepens.

“Relax, mask boy. I’m just saying, I didn’t expect you to be the bold type.”

“Hak!” you cry out, but before you can yell at him again, you feel the soft weight of something warm drape over your shoulders.

You glance down and see Shin-Ah’s thick fur cloak now shielding your exposed body, the comforting smell of his presence surrounding you.

Shin-Ah has turned to face Hak fully, standing between you and him like a shield. His tall frame blocks you from Hak’s line of sight entirely, his glowing gaze unwavering as he steps forward.

“Leave,” Shin-Ah says softly, his voice uncharacteristically firm.

“Oh? Feeling protective, are we?” Hak quips, unfazed.

He leans lazily against a nearby tree, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Fine, fine. I’ll go. Just don’t take too long, or I’ll have to assume you’ve been turned into frog food.”

He waves as he retreats, calling over his shoulder,

“You’re welcome for the rescue, by the way!”

The silence that follows is almost as loud as Hak’s teasing had been. You sigh, pulling the fur tighter around yourself as Shin-Ah glances at you hesitantly. His ears are still red, his mask tilting slightly downward.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice soft now.

“For the cloak… and for standing up to Hak.”

Shin-Ah nods slowly, his hand resting on Ao’s head for comfort.

“Sorry,” he whispers, his voice almost trembling.

“I didn’t mean… to make you uncomfortable.”

You smile despite yourself.

“It’s okay. You were trying to protect me.”

Shin-Ah stays silent for a moment before finally stepping back toward the shadows.

“I’ll… make sure no one else comes. Enjoy the rest of your bath.”

And with that, he disappears into the treeline, his presence lingering like the warmth of his cloak around your shoulders.

Kija and Hak walking in on you during an argument

The hot spring’s warmth envelops you like a comforting blanket, its soothing waters easing every ache and strain from days of travel. A sigh escapes your lips as you let yourself relax, sinking further into the water. What a hell of a week this was, the only truly comforting thing that happened was meeting Zeno. But stumbling over that hot springs? Priceless, without any doubt.

It’s been far too long since you’ve had a moment to yourself. Away from Hak’s endless teasing, away from the group’s constant chatter, and away from Kija’s persistence that he protects you from every little thing. No danger, no distractions - just you and the peaceful sound of the water lapping against the rocks.

But the peace is short-lived.

As usual.

A rustling sound breaks the stillness, and you freeze, your gaze darting around without a real aim. You listen closely, heart starting to race. The forest, once alive with the faint hum of crickets, has fallen silent. You sit up in the water, eyes scanning the darkened treeline.

Before you can call out, voices cut through the night.

“Hey, white snake! You think she fell into the spring or something?”

Hak.

Your heart skips a beat.

“Hak, don’t even say that!”, Kija’s voice follows, loud and frantic.

“Why would you assume something so catastrophic?! What if she’s injured - or worse?”

Footsteps crunch against the forest floor, and you feel panic rising as they grow louder. No, no, no. This cannot be happening. They aren’t on their way to you, right?

“Wait! Hak, Kija, don’t-!” you call out, your voice echoing off the rocks, but it’s too late.

The two burst into the clearing like a pair of wayward storms, Kija with his dragon arm glowing faintly in preparation for an attack and Hak looking as relaxed as ever, his glaive resting lazily against his shoulder.

The moment they see you, time seems to stop.

There you are, chest-deep in the water, steam curling around your bare shoulders. Kija’s dragon arm immediately lowers as his jaw drops, his pale skin quickly turning a deep shade of crimson. Hak, on the other hand, raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“What are you two doing here!?” you shriek, sinking deeper into the water and flapping to cover yourself with your arms.

Hak is the first to recover, his trademark smirk spreading across his face as he leans casually on his glaive.

“Well, this is unexpected. Thought we were here to save you from drowning, but it turns out you’re just having a nice soak.”

He pauses, letting his gaze flicker to Kija’s dumbstruck expression before adding,

“This might be even better, honestly.”

“Don’t look!” you yell, your face burning hotter than the spring.

“I’m not looking,” Hak replies, though the playful edge to his tone says otherwise.

“Not really, anyway.”

“Hak!” Kija snaps, finally coming to his senses.

He spins around so fast you almost feel the wind from his motion, his back now firmly to you. His hands tremble as he clenches his fists at his sides.

“This is highly inappropriate! Miss (y/n), I…I deeply apologize for this unspeakable intrusion!”

Hak snorts.

“Unspeakable? Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

He tilts his head, clearly enjoying himself.

“Relax, white snake. She’s fine. No harm done.”

“Fine?! This is mortifying!” Kija hisses through clenched teeth, refusing to turn around.

His dragon arm flexes, his knuckles white.

“We should never have come here!”

“You don’t say,” you mutter bitterly, your embarrassment mounting by the second.

Hak’s smirk widens.

“Oh, come on. It’s not every day you walk into a scene this memorable. You’ve got to admit, the timing’s kind of perfect. And the view is even better”

“Hak,” you growl, the water splashing as you resist the urge to throw something at him.

“Shut up and leave already!”

“Oh, I’ll leave,” Hak replies, holding up his free hand in mock surrender.

He glances at Kija, who still looks like he might pass out from sheer humiliation.

“But I don’t think Kija’s feet are working anymore. Guess it’s just you and me, (y/n).”

“GET OUT!” you scream, splashing water in Hak’s direction.

He laughs, dodging the spray with infuriating ease.

“Alright, alright. I’m going. No need to get violent.”

He turns, throwing an exaggerated wave over his shoulder.

“Next time, though, maybe leave a note if you’re sneaking off for a midnight soak. Could’ve saved us all some trouble.”

As Hak strolls off, still laughing under his breath, Kija hesitates, his back rigid and unmoving.

“I… I’ll make sure Hak never speaks of this again!” he promises, his voice high-pitched and frantic.

“Miss (y/n), please forgive us for this - this indecent situation!”

Before you can respond, he takes a shaky step forward to follow Hak, literally running away for dear life.

You still fail to catch your breath. As if Kija being here isn’t worse enough, why on earth did it have to be him? You’ve had a crush on Hak for as long as you can remember, still always admiring him from afar. Did he…look at you, maybe even find you attractive?

Out of instinct, you shake your head vehemently. What kind of nonsense is this? As if a guy like Hak would even look your direction.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart and chase his stupid perfect face out of your thoughts as you sink back into the warmth of the spring. There’s no use in interpreting too much into this situation. After all, it was probably Kija who worried about you, right?

But your pulse quickens again when you hear that familiar voice you tried so desperately to chase away.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me.”

You barely have time to react before Hak steps back into the clearing, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight, leaning casually against a tree as though nothing’s changed. His easy grin makes the air around you feel heavier.

“Hak,” you snap, trying to control the heat rising in your cheeks.

“What are you doing back here?”

He raises an eyebrow, taking a slow step closer, not at all bothered by the situation.

"Just making sure you’re all right, of course."

“Stop messing around. I told you I’m fine.”

You try to sound convincing, but it comes out strained. It’s hard to focus when his gaze lingers just a little too long. His eyes trace the curve of your shoulders, down your arms, your body beneath the water, and you can feel the weight of his attention like a physical touch.

Hak seems to notice your discomfort and smirks even wider.

“I know. You’re fine. But you’ve been avoiding me all day, so I thought I’d check on you.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you mutter, your voice wavering despite your best efforts.

“It’s just… uncomfortable when you keep making things weird.”

His smirk doesn’t fade as he steps forward, and you instinctively inch back, but there's nowhere to retreat. He’s just a few feet away now, his body blocking the space between you and the edge of the spring. You feel like dying and flying at the same time.

"Is it weird though?" Hak asks, voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leans in, his presence overwhelming you.

“You never told me to stop… not really.”

You blink, and before you can protest, Hak continues, his tone darker now, almost teasing.

"You don't mind when I get close, do you? Not really."

The air grows thick, the steam around you suddenly feeling even hotter than before. His gaze locks onto yours, intense and unyielding. You’ve never seen him like this before, and the sudden shift in his manner makes your heart race. What on earth has gotten into him?

“Hak…”

Your voice comes out breathy, betraying your attempt to remain composed.

He smirks, but there’s something different about the way he’s looking at you now - something that sends a tingle straight down your spine. His hands flex at his sides as he steps closer, his body almost touching yours.

"You sure you want me to leave? Because I'm not getting that impression."

You’re too flustered to answer, heat rushing to your face, your body tense beneath the water. You're caught between the urge to push him away and the strange pull that draws you closer. His eyes flicker downward to where the water clings to your skin, and he breathes in slowly, as if savoring the moment.

"Don't look," you mumble automatically, your tone half-warning, half-pleading.

"I’m not."

Hak’s voice is low, teasing, but there's an edge to it.

"But if you didn’t want me to look, why are you hiding under the water like that?"

You glare at him, biting your lip to keep from responding too quickly.

“I’m not hiding.”

He takes another step forward, closing the distance until you can feel the heat of his body radiating against you.

“Sure you’re not.”

His voice is low and seductive now, each word making your heart beat faster. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear as his fingers brush the edge of the water.

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay. And it seems to me you’re not so fine with me leaving. Aren’t you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and before you can stop yourself, you gasp when his hand barely skims your shoulder, sending a shock of heat through your body. Your instincts flare up, and you try to pull back, but his presence is suffocating, and there’s nowhere to go.

You glance at him, eyes wide with something between irritation and panic, but your words get caught in your throat as he steps even closer. The tension between you is suffocating now, crackling with something raw, something primal, something that makes the air heavy and thick with desire.

"You’ve been avoiding me all this time," he whispers, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver through your body.

"But you can’t hide from me forever, (y/n)."

You shiver, unable to speak, your breath coming faster as his hand traces lightly down your arm. His fingers linger just long enough for you to feel the warmth of them against your skin, igniting a fire within you.

“W-what are you doing?” you manage to breathe out, barely able to get the words out past the tightness in your chest.

Hak’s lips curl into a half-smile, the teasing edge still there, but there’s something deeper behind his eyes now.

“I’m just making sure you understand what I’ve been trying to say.”

His voice is thick, husky now, like the air between you both is too thick to bear.

The space between you both is impossibly small, and you’re not sure if it’s your breath or his that’s filling the air, making everything feel suffocating. You can’t remember the last time you felt this close to him - felt this seen by him.

But somehow, you never want it to end. No, you want him to stay like this, you want to feel him this close to you.

You want him, none other than Son Hak.

“Maybe…I want you”, you breathe into the night.

Bonus: all the men hehe

The hot spring is supposed to be your reward. After days of trekking through rough terrain, dealing with bandits, and sleeping in the dirt, this feels like heaven itself. Even Yun had chimed in, saying you deserved a moment to relax, offering you some alone-time in the hot springs. They had specifically assigned this hot spring to you, promising that no one would disturb you. Sometimes, they are able to act nice.

You sigh cheerfully, the warm water easing every ache and pain in your body. It’s peaceful, calm, and the perfect chance to relax.

Until the door to the changing area slides open with a loud clack.

You jolt upright, your heart leaping into your throat. Before you can even process what’s happening, Hak strides in, wearing nothing but a small, damp white towel slung low around his waist. Water drips from his messy hair as he steps confidently into the spring, seemingly unaware of your presence.

“Man, this is going to feel great,” Hak signs, stretching his arms overhead.

You feel like seeing a ghost. Didn’t the old lady tell you in front of everyone else that the hot spring number three will be reserved for you only? Are you mistaken?

“H-Hak?!” you sputter, your voice echoing in the steamy air.

He freezes mid-step, his dark eyes snapping toward you. For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, his signature grin returns, twice as mischievous as usual.

“Oh? Didn’t expect to see you here,” Hak comments smoothly, his tone dripping with faux innocence.

“Don’t mind me - this is my assigned tub, too.”

“What?! No, it isn’t!” you snap, your face turning bright red as you sink lower into the water, desperate to hide yourself.

Before Hak can reply, another voice calls out.

“Wait for me, Thunder Beast! Don’t hog the spring!”

Jae-Ha appears, his towel slung over his shoulder and his long legs carrying him gracefully into the clearing. The green dragon freezes mid-step when he spots you, his eyes widening slightly before a sly smile spreads across his face.

“Oh my,” he jeers, tossing the towel around his neck like he’s suddenly a model.

“This is quite the surprise. If I’d known we’d have company, I’d have brought wine to celebrate.”

“Get out!” you yell, your face burning as Jae-Ha perches casually on the edge of the spring, clearly ignoring you.

“Oh, don’t be shy, darling. We’re all friends here,” Jae-Ha teases, kicking one leg lazily into the water.

Before you can scream again, a third figure enters. Kija, holding his white cloth with a prim sort of dignity, strides in with his nose held high.

“Hak, I told you to wait for the rest of us before-”

His words trail off as he spots you, blue eyes widen in sheer shock.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Kija’s face turns bright red. He spins on his heel so fast he nearly trips.

“What are you doing in here?! This is improper!”

“Me?” you shriek, waving a hand at him.

“You’re the ones barging in here!”

“Don’t yell at me!” Kija shouts back, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“I wasn’t told this spring was occupied! Especially not by you!”

“STOP SOUNDING SO DISGUSTED!”

He whirls back around to glare at Hak and Jae-Ha, who seem far less mortified than he is.

But there’s no time to argue or for further protest, because Zeno skips in next, humming a cheerful tune. He’s the only one who doesn’t even hesitate, wading straight into the water without a care in the world.

“Ah, nice and warm!” Zeno chirps, sinking into the spring as though this were a casual picnic.

He glances at you and tilts his head.

“Oh, you’re here too? That’s great! Makes it more fun!”

This can’t be true, right? They have to be a hallucination, every single one of them. But something about Hak’s slight grin tells you it can’t be, that this is bitter reality.

“Zeno, get out!” you groan, holding your hands over your face.

“What? Zeno didn’t do anything wrong!” he protests, grinning wide as ever.

Your sanity shakes on the edge as yet another figure appears. Shin-Ah stands in the doorway, frozen in place as he takes in the scene. His glowing golden eyes flicker between you and the others, and you can see the color rising in his ears even beneath his hood.

“Shin-Ah, please tell them to leave!” you plead, clutching the edge of the spring for dear life.

Finally someone with a little bit of sense. He nods once, almost robotically, before turning to departure - only for Ao to leap from his shoulder and dive into the water with an enthusiastic squeak.

“Great,” you mutter as the little squirrel starts splashing around.

“To be honest, Ao is the only one I really want here.”

“I-I’ll take Ao,” Shin-Ah mumbles, clearly flustered as he steps toward the spring, only to stop dead when his foot slips on a wet stone.

He stumbles, barely catching himself, and the towel around his waist slips a little before he falls straight into the water.

Straight against you.

Your naked self, to be exact.

“Shin-Ah!”

“I-I’m sorry!” he stammers, his voice barely audible as he scrambles backward, his movements awkward and frantic.

He dashes away from you as if you’re the plague, his face so red you think steam might start rising off him.

Before you can fully process what just happened, a low whistle cuts through the tension.

“Well, isn’t this interesting?” Hak drawls, leaning back against the rocks with that insufferable smirk of his.

He crosses his arms over his chest, looking far too amused for your liking.

“Guess we know what Shin-Ah’s type is now. Didn’t think he’d make such a bold move, though. Props to him.”

Your jaw drops.

“What did you just say?!”

Hak shrugs, feigning innocence as he gestures toward the flustered Shin-Ah, who looks like he wants to melt into the water and disappear.

“I mean, falling into you like that? Pretty smooth move if you ask me. Maybe I should take notes-”

“You should take notes on leaving me alone!” you snap, your voice practically reverberating off the rocks.

“Seriously, Hak, of all the idiotic, inappropriate - HOW IS THIS FUNNY TO YOU?!”

Hak raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your outburst.

“Come on, it’s a little funny-”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!” you scream, throwing a handful of water in his direction.

He dodges effortlessly, of course, laughing even harder.

“You’re impossible!” you huff, clutching the edge of the spring to keep yourself from launching at him.

“First, you barge in uninvited, then you make inappropriate comments, and now you’re making jokes about this?! What is WRONG with you?”

“Plenty of things,” Hak admits with a shameless grin, earning himself a chorus of groans from Kija and a small splash of water from Zeno, who seems to be trying to cheer you up.

“Shut up, Hak,” Kija mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re going to get us all killed.”

Jae-Ha chuckles from his perch on the edge of the spring.

“To be fair, Thunder Beast does have a knack for digging his own grave.”

“That’s it!” you shout, pointing furiously at all of them.

“I’ll kill every single one of you right now!

Finally, Yun storms in just in time, his face already set in a scowl.

“What is wrong with all of you? I can’t leave for one second without laughing around like idiots and talking trash-”

He stops, taking in the chaos: you half-hidden in the water, Hak smirking, Jae-Ha lounging, Zeno grinning, Kija fuming, Shin-Ah frozen, and Ao splashing around like it’s a game. Yun pinches the bridge of his nose. So, that’s what’s going on here. Did all of them not listen to what the old lady said earlier?

“You were all supposed to be in the other spring!” Yun yells, his voice echoing so loudly that even Hak winces.

“Do none of you listen?!”

“It’s fine, Yun,” Zeno interferes, waving him off.

“It’s cozier this way! And being naked together helps with bonding!”

“Oh, I know something you can do naked that helps with bonding as well”, Jae-Ha comments with a slight grin.

You let out a strangled noise, your head sinking into your hands.

“I’m going to lose my mind…”

“Relax,” Hak says with a laugh, slipping into the water like nothing is amiss.

“We’re all friends here, right?”

“Out!”

124 notes · View notes

n0vazsq · 1 month ago

Text

Forever | FA14 x Reader

pairing . . . emperor!fernando alonso x concubine!reader

summary . . . You'd always been nothing but a mere presence in the royal palace, but when the emperor suddenly asks you to have dinner with him, everything changes

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.1k

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . so i had to do extensive research on royal positions and shit for this but yeah i hope you guys like it!!!

. . . The grand hall of the royal palace was covered in luxury, its tall walls gleaming in the warm glow of the countless lanterns. Despite its grandness, the air inside felt suffocating.

You stood in a line of courtiers and concubines, your pulse beating hard against your skin.

Today was the emperor’s audience, and though you had served in his court for over a year, you had only seen Emperor Fernando from a distance. Rumors of his sharpness and calculating demeanuor following him wherever he went.

"Presenting His Majesty, Emperor Fernando," a herald announced, and the hall fell silent.

The doors swung open, and he entered. Emperor Fernando, ruler of the empire, commanded attention without effort.

Clad in deep crimson robes embroidered with golden dragons, his presence expelled authority. His piercing brown eyes scanned the room, and for a moment, you felt their weight land on you. A shiver ran down your spine.

The emperor settled on his throne, an eye catching seat carved from dark wood and covered with rare gems. As the audience progressed, you kept your head bowed, praying you would remain invisible in the sea of attendants.

But fate had other plans.

"You there," Fernando’s voice rang out, steady and commanding. Your breath hitched as you realized he was addressing you. "Step forward."

You obeyed, your heart pounding strongly in your chest. Standing before him, you dared a glance upward, meeting his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held an undeniable intensity.

"What is your name?" he asked, his tone softer now but not less authoritative.

You said your name, voice trembling. "That's my name, Your Majesty,"

He repeated it, almost testing the sound of it. "Tell me, how do you find life within these palace walls?"

The question caught you off guard. How honest could you be with the most powerful man in the land? You chose your words carefully. "The palace is beautiful, Your Majesty, though its magnificence can feel… overwhelming."

His lips curved into a faint smile, a rare sight that sent whispers through the court. "Overwhelming? I suppose even gold loses its beauty when seen every day."

"You will join me for dinner tonight," Before you could respond, he gestured to an officer that was standing near him. "Ensure preparations are made."

Your eyes widened. Dinner? With the emperor? You barely managed to stammer out a "Yes, Your Majesty" before retreating to your place in line. The remainder of the audience passed in a blur, your thoughts consumed by the unexpected summoning.

Later that evening, you were escorted to a private dining room. The space was smaller compared to the vastness of the throne room, though still richly adorned.

The emperor sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed yet upright. He motioned for you to sit.

"You look nervous," he observed, pouring you a glass of wine himself. The gesture was charming, a far cry from the strict ruler you’d imagined.

"I am unused to such… attention, Your Majesty," you admitted, accepting the glass with trembling hands.

He laughed, the sound warm and unexpectedly human. "And I am unused to honesty. Most would say whatever they think I wish to hear."

"Then I hope my honesty does not offend you," you said, your courage helped by his demeanor.

"Quite the opposite." He leaned back, studying you. "Tell me, what did you do before you came to the palace?"

The question pulled you back to a simpler time. "My family ran a small vineyard. I spent my days tending to the vines and preparing wines for market."

"A vintner?" He seemed genuinely intrigued. "And do you miss it?"

You hesitated. "Sometimes. The work was hard, but there was freedom in it. Here, everything feels… controlled."

His expression darkened briefly, as if your words struck a nerve. "Freedom is a rare luxury in the palace, even for an emperor."

The dinner continued with surprising ease, the conversation flowing as if you were old acquaintances. He spoke of his childhood; a rarity, you gathered, and you shared stories of your village life.

By the time the meal ended, you felt a strange sense of familiarity with him, as though you’d glimpsed the man behind the crown.

"Thank you for joining me," Fernando said as you prepared to leave. "I find your company… refreshing."

The warmth in his voice left you speechless. With a respectful bow, you left, your mind a whirlwind of emotions.

Days turned into weeks, and your interactions with the emperor became more frequent. He often sought you out for conversation, valuing your honest perspective.

The court was fulled with speculations, some jealous and others curious about your sudden rise in favor. You, however, remained uncertain of his intentions.

One evening, as you walked in the palace gardens, you found him waiting beneath a blossoming cherry tree. The sight was almost surreal, the fierce emperor standing amidst a cascade of delicate petals.

He greeted, saying your name to get your attention, his tone softer than usual. "Join me."

You approached, the smell of the flowers filling the air. "Your Majesty, this is a surprise."

"Fernando," he corrected, a hint of impatience in his voice. "When we are alone, you may call me Fernando."

The informality caught you off guard, but you nodded. "Fernando, then. What brings you here?"

"You," he said simply, his gaze locking onto yours. "I have ruled for many years. In all that time, I’ve learned that power and wealth mean little without someone to share them with."

Your heart raced as his words sank in. Was he implying what you thought he was?

"You intrigue me," he continued. "Your honesty, your strength, your personality; they are rare qualities in a place like this. I find myself drawn to you."

You searched his face for any sign of dishonesty but found none. His confession left you torn between disbelief and a fluttering hope you dared not acknowledge.

"Fernando, I am only a mere concubine," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "What could I possibly offer an emperor?"

"Everything," he replied without hesitation. "You see me not as a ruler but as a man. That is a gift more precious than any treasure in this palace."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to hope. Under the cherry blossoms, with the world fading into the background, you took a hesitant step forward, closing the distance between you.

And as Fernando reached for your hand, you knew your life was about to change forever.

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

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kikyan · 1 year ago

Text

Hellfire

Cw: Yandere content means Yandere content y’all, dub-con, stalking, obsessive behavior, abuse of power, Father/Priest! Rollo (AS IN PRIEST NOT INCEST), masturbation, body worship, oral (GN! Reader receiving), fingering, riding, religious themes, etc

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: Rollo x GN! Reader

Words: 9.5K

A/N: Everyone look at your calendars and do you see how in reality it isn’t a New Year but rather Halloween and this Halloween special is coming out on the day it was meant to and not almost 3 months later? Fantastic, moving on. . .enjoy :))

A/N2: I want to preface this by saying that this fic does have religion/religious themes. This is not an accurate portrayal either, so please do not come for me-! I did grow up catholic but in my teen years became a full atheist so anything said in this fic is me recalling my childhood. Also, I googled bible verses because I don’t remember any and they were all in Spanish so, yeah. . .enjoy! :))

The bells rang throughout Fleur City, signaling the start of Sunday mass. The crowd gathered, rushing to find any available seats to sit down on. Those unfortunate would have to stand, as they did not dare miss the mass. Father Rollo was an exceptional man, his voice and words rang throughout the church and captivated everyone who was blessed to be in his presence. He handled himself professionally, standing with an upright posture and his head was always looking ahead. He was truly a man befitting to be god's messenger. Fleur City was fortunate to have Father Rollo, he was a man adored by his people and [Reader] was no different. They were locked on Father Rollo who strutted with confidence,

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you”

His eyes locked with [Reader]. They broke away from his eyes but could still feel his piercing eyes on them.

“I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

Cheers erupted from within the church the moment he finished his sentence. Mass was shortly concluded after the church staff asked for donations. Plenty of people offered whatever they could spare, but it was appreciated. The church was emptying but a few others stayed behind to have a few words with Father Rollo. [Reader] stayed seated but looked over at Father Rollo from the corner of their eye. He was attending to the people and their needs, he truly was a virtuous man. They averted their gaze when they saw Father Rollo turn to them. He bid goodbye to the troubled crowd. His heeled shoes echoed loudly through the emptying church, stopping in front of [Reader].

“[Reader], good morning. How have you been?”

“Oh. . good morning, Father Rollo. I’ve been well, how about you?”

“It has been a pleasant morning so far and I can only pray that it shall remain that way. Though I will say, it’s certainly comforting knowing you’re here. I did not see you anywhere last week.”

“R-Right. . .my apologies. It certainly wasn’t my intention to miss last week’s mass, but I’m afraid I did end up catching a cold. It has since passed and I feel quite better.”

“ You ought to take care of yourself, [Reader]. It would be a shame if something terrible happened to you. You are, after all, our number one devotee here at the Church. It would be rather quiet and lonely if you were to go.”

“Ha ha, it was only a cold Father Rollo, not the plague. I assure you, I am fine. Besides, I’m pretty strong enough to handle an illness.”

[Reader] returned a smile to Rollo, whose face remained expressionless, but his eyebrows furrowed upwards in un-amusement.

“That you are, you have God’s protection as one of his children. Alas, I must be off. Till next we meet, [Reader].”

Rollo turned around and left the main hall, leaving [Reader] alone. It was only for a split second, but he turned around to gaze at them again.

[Reader] was in love with Rollo. Their greatest sin that would be known to the dead once they passed. They remember their first meeting, plain as day, unlike that stormy night where this story takes place.

There was a storm and it was pouring. The kind that people were warned to stay indoors because of the severity, yet here [Reader] was running to the middle of the town where the church lay. Their face was coated in rainwater which made it almost impossible to keep their eyes open, they were struggling to breathe, and the cold that accompanied the storm did little to help. They were staggering over to the Church.

“[READER!] GET BACK HERE NOW AND I MIGHT FORGIVE YOU!”

Panic rose and they didn’t dare look back, for if they did, surely it would be their last. They didn’t dare scream for help, because they knew their cries would be drowned by the storm. They finally made it to the center, running up the stairs of the cathedral, and lunged to the door. No surprise that it was locked.

“[READER]! STOP!”

“L-LEAVE ME ALONE! SANCTUARY, PLEASE GIVE ME SANCTUARY!”

[Reader] pleaded and began to hit the doors with all their might. The person who was no doubt chasing after them continued their pursuit. They were approaching the steps and soon, close enough to reach out to [Reader]. Just in the nick of time, the door opened enough for [Reader] to throw themselves inside. They landed on the cold stone floors and used whatever strength they had to scramble away from the door. They looked up to see a skinny man with a pale face, green-blue eyes, dark bags under his eyes, and silver hair behind the door. He was adorned in an ankle-long robe and wore black-heeled loafers. His outfit certainly was nothing too fancy, then again it was the middle of the night.

“S-Sanctuary! P-please, give me sanctuary!”

“What seems to be the matter-!?”

The man turned to them but was cut from the person chasing after [Reader].

“[Reader]! C’mere, now.”

The anger in his voice disappeared but there was sternness laced in his request. The silver-haired man turned to the other person. The storm showered them, and the mud that they tracked in did not go unnoticed by the silver-haired man.

“Forgive me. My name is Rollo Flamme, I am one of the priests here. May I ask what seems to be the issue? I certainly did not expect there to be anyone leisuring out in the streets with the storm raging outside.”

The silver-haired man, now named ‘Rollo’, asked. Rollo turned to the person outside with an unamused expression.

“Father Rollo, pardon the intrusion. You see, that person over there is named [Reader], they're my partner. My partner also suffers from an unstable state of mind. It would be best if we returned-!?”

“Father Rollo, is everything alright?”

They all turned to look at an elderly woman who no doubt worked for the church. Rollo shook his head and the woman took it as a sign to approach the door.

“Everything is alright here, there is no need for the both of you to concern yourselves over our issues. Me and [Reader] would be taking our leave-!?��

“I think not. It would be against everything we stand for if we turned away someone who came to this holy place and asked for sanctuary. I apologize, but I’ll be asking for you to leave. Madam, take this one,”

Rollo turned to face [Reader],

“This one inside. Run them a warm bath and please get them a fresh set of clothes. As for you, sir. . please leave.”

[Reader’s] partner scoffed and stepped forward,

“I wouldn’t recommend that.”

He stopped after Rollo’s warning. Soon, others started to arrive within the church, including the guards. [Reader’s] partner glared at Rollo but decided against their actions. They just scoffed and went outside. The church’s door was shut and locked following his departure.

[Reader] had been sitting on the floor, trying to steady their breathing. Rollo walked over to them and helped them off their feet.

“You’re safe here in the house of God, he cannot hurt you any longer.”

Rollo then walked away, moving people to their station leaving [Reader] alone with the Madam.

“Come child, let’s get you out of those freezing clothes and into a warm bath.”

That was the first time they met Rollo.

Several weeks later, [Reader] was still within the church and assisting in any way they could. They would sometimes join the community in cleaning the church, making meals to provide during the holidays, and so forth. They were currently helping the volunteers make bread until Rollo arrived in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Father Rollo! How may we assist you?”

The elderly woman asked Rollo, who turned to face her.

“Good morning, Madam. I see you’re all hard at work assisting the church so I won’t take up too much of your time. May I speak with [Reader]?”

At the mention of their name, [Reader] perked up. The Madam turned to them and asked,

“Of course, is that alright?”

[Reader] nodded, dropping their task and washing their hands. They turned to look at Rollo who nodded,

“This way, please.”

Rollo led the way to his office and closed the door once they were both inside. He turned to them and offered the chair across from his.

“Sit, please. Good morning, [Reader]. How are you this morning?”

“Father Rollo. . .great. This morning has been great so far, busy but no complaints from me yet! How about yours?”

“Fine, busy as well but such is life as God’s servant. Now, I wanted to discuss some things with you. The man that pursued you when you arrived at our doorsteps, I presume you would be content knowing that he has since left the town. He is no longer residing in Fleur City.”

[Reader] let out a sigh of relief, since the day they arrived at the steps of the cathedral they have been residing within it. All housing was provided by the church as well as their meals. They weren’t expected to assist with the chores at the church, but they felt it was the least they could do. They would leave to go into town occasionally but always went with a guide or a guard in case anything happened. Rollo had made arrangements for them to avoid any further issues. They weren’t aware that their partner who had tormented them relentlessly had left the city or had any plans to.

“Thank you. . . Father Rollo. I appreciate you informing me.”

“ Of course, now that he has permanently left Fleur City we can arrange to get you a small place within the city. Don’t worry, if you still wish to assist the Church it will be nearby and the place will be within the guard's post. The area will be carefully monitored and maintained.”

“Father Rollo. . that’s too much. I appreciate all you have done since that day, but asking for my living quarters would be too much-!”

“Nonsense. You requested sanctuary from the church and since then, we have worked hard to provide that for you. It’s no trouble at all, you’re a precious child of God after all and he never abandons his children.”

Rollo faced [Reader] who was deep in thought. A place to stay without the haunting memories of their partner who could care less about them. [Reader] turned their gaze to Rollo and smiled,

“Thank you for your kindness, Father Rollo.”

From then, [Reader] had been living in the house provided by the church. Their place was warm and cozy, but most importantly, theirs. As days went by, [Reader] continued to attend weekly mass and stayed behind to help the community with events. Though Rollo was a well-known priest, he certainly wasn’t the only one present in the cathedral. The community had gotten together to thank the priests and were thinking of how to repay each one. The madam took the request and decided to host a small celebration for them with food and games for the community.

The entire town was invited to attend and they did, for there was no greater honor than celebrating their townsmen. Rollo stood in the center, overseeing the event rather than partaking in it like the other priests. He saw how his colleagues engaged with the town, his eyes were trained on them. They had no problem mingling with others and taking the front while Rollo chose to stay behind.

“Are you not enjoying yourself, Father Rollo?”

He turned to the voice, it was [Reader].

“I am, but conversing with others isn’t something I do quite well at. I leave that task, to the others. What about you, [Reader]?”

“Oh, I am as well. I too, don’t tend to mingle with others, at least not in events like this. It’s still taking me a while to adjust to being in control of my own life.”

Rollo spared a glance at [Reader] who sadly reminisced. Their partner would often take control of the conversation and not allow [Reader] to speak. They would often leave [Reader] in social gatherings to fend for themselves and never acknowledge their feelings. After a while and per their adored partner’s request, stopped leaving their shared home. This resulted in [Reader] self-isolating.

“I see. Often, just being in the company of someone you trust is more than enough at events like these. However I do hope that moving forward, we can heal from the past.”

Socializing wasn’t his strong suit; if he did, it was always formal and respectful. There was no time for jokes or silly banter, that is why Rollo helped Fleur City behind the scenes. He handled all formal matters while the others tended to the city with their words and charisma. Even now, his words of comfort were formal and didn’t properly convey his feelings.

“One day, I will join the crowd again and this time, maybe I can take you with me, Father Rollo. Oh, by the way, I have something for you.”

Rollo faced [Reader] who was looking into their pocket.

“Here! I know it doesn’t mean much and it’s certainly a very cheap gift, but I want to express my gratitude. Thank you for all that you’ve done, Father Rollo. Without you, I don’t think I would be here with the Madam and the Town, so thank you.”

He looked at his hands to see a wine-red handkerchief with purple embroidery on the outer edges, his name was woven into the corner. It was a simple gift really, but the difference with most gifts that he received was that this was hand-made. Handmade with love, love from the person that he cared the most about. Rollo stammered,

“T-Thank you, I shall keep this with me at all times. It’s lovely, [Reader].”

[Reader] turned to see his eyes gazing deeply at theirs. It was different, unlike a small expression of gratitude with professionalism laced Rollo’s eyes betrayed him. Behind his eyes, desire and love peeked through, even if it was for a split moment.

“Of course. . .my pleasure, Father Rollo.”

Rollo was called shortly after to attend to a matter within the cathedral, but before parting from [Reader], he promised he would return promptly. Rollo left and attended the matter fairly quickly, but before leaving to meet up with [Reader], he walked to his office. Locking the door, he took out the handkerchief and brought it up to his nose, inhaling the sweet scent from it.

‘[Reader]’

Rollo recalled the memory of when he first laid eyes on them. It wasn’t anything too special, he was just in town when he stumbled upon them. Rollo has observed throughout his life all the filth from others and their actions. [Reader] had remained a pure innocent soul devoid of any sins.

‘ Humans are sinful creatures and that is why we exist. . .’

Rollo had engraved that concept into his mind. There are 7 sins within mankind - pride, wrath, envy, gluttony, sloth, greed, and lust. Humans will lie, cheat, steal, manipulate, and take advantage of others for personal greed. In reality, society has failed itself and remains to be a stain on this world. [Reader] was a positive chum, but was a sight to behold in a world of sin.

Rollo was walking through town, which was a rare sight considering the only place you could glance at him would be in the cathedral. He noticed hidden behind a stall that there was a child, looking confused and scared.

‘ No doubt lost.’

Rollo thought to himself but did not step forward just yet. He recalled a conversation he had with the Madam, a woman whom he respected as she was not like the others either. She had devoted herself to the church and helping others after the passing of her husband. She would confess that no human was free of sin, but that didn’t mean that they were undeserving of God’s love and a place in his kingdom. It was silly, but he remembered what he told her after,

“You’re right Madam, everyone is worthy of God’s love. Though do not underestimate humanity’s free will, some of them choose to sin and relish in their filth.”

The madam shook her head and reminded Rollo that he should not be so quick to place judgment on others, but it was futile.

He recalled that memory as he saw the scene displayed in front of him, a defenseless child turning to adults begging for help. Those same ‘adults’ had brushed the child off and some even as far to push the child away.

“P-Please, I can’t find my mommy-”

“Not interested.”

“Stay clear of the road! Damn, brats. . .”

‘Are these the same people who deserve God’s love, Madam?’

Rollo began walking to the child but stopped when he noticed another individual walk up to the child,

“My name is [Reader], are you lost? Did you lose your parents?”

The child nodded and [Reader] lightly brushed the tears that were forming away,

“I see, well let me try to help you find them. When did you see them last?”

“I saw my mommy over there. . .”

The child pointed towards the growing crowd. In theory, this mother could be anywhere but if she was observant then no doubt she noticed her child missing. [Reader] nodded and held out their hand to the child, asking permission to hold their hand. The child allowed it, letting [Reader] lead them into the crowd. The child's grip tightened, afraid to lose their newfound savior. Rollo followed them, wanting to make sure that this child wasn’t going to be kidnapped. He saw how ‘[Reader]’ was holding onto the child and stopping in the area, asking the child if they saw their mother. When the child shook their head, [Reader] would begin calling out if someone lost their child. The town was busy and [Reader’s] cries were lost to the wind, but they did not lose their determination. After half an hour, Rollo heard a woman frantically calling out what was probably the child's name as the child perked up at the mention of it. [Reader] carefully maneuvered their way across the crowd to reunite the mother and child. Rollo witnessed the scene of the mother and child holding each other close, the mother turning to [Reader] and thanking them, and [Reader] reassuring them. Rollo scoffed, one person was not enough to persuade his mind that humanity was any different. It didn’t just stop there, weeks after the incident they had another run-in with them - at a distance, of course.

[Reader] was in the market with the intent of buying groceries, but instead offered to help the people at the stands. It was a never-ending cycle, when they finished their task another person went to them asking for help.

‘They’re a fool, they’re being taken advantage of by the others-’

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t mind helping but I haven’t finished my shopping. When I finish and if you still need help I can come back.”

“Oh, I’m sorry [Reader], I didn’t mean to take up your time! It’s fine if you can’t, but thank you anyway.”

[Reader] politely excused themselves and finished their shopping. A couple of instances off the top of his head that Rollo remembered, [Reader] buying food for a beggar on the street, helping an elderly person cross the street, helping a cat out of their collar once they noticed it was choking from it, and when they helped stitch back up a child's toy once it was ruined. Rollo was getting irritated at this point,

‘Madam, I swear it’s like you enjoy tormenting me. . .are you trying to prove a point?’

The scowl written on his face was unwavering as he continued to observe this happy-go-lucky person. He managed to overhear the conversation between [Reader] and another person.

“You’re so nice [Reader], it’s so rare to find someone who cares about people the way you do!”

“You think so? I don’t think I am doing anything too grand, I just do what comes normal to me.”

“Yes! You have a heart of gold, I mean you offer to help when needed. You should be careful though, people out there would take advantage of that kindness.”

“Hm, I guess. I mean, I just do what I can but if it’s too much or something I can’t do I’m not opposed to saying no. I think a lot of people just think I’m too nice because they’re just used to being treated with little kindness. I don’t want to be a bystander if I can do something. I hold the door for people if they’re close and I’m not going to shut the door on them, it’s not like it takes too much time.”

“Aw, you’re so nice.”

“I don’t think so, I mean would you shut the door on me if I was behind you?”

“Well. . .”

“Then you’re just too mean.”

[Reader] and the person exchanged a laugh before parting ways. Rollo stood still and turned to see [Reader] back in the distance, leaving the marketplace. His resolve didn’t sway, humans were still corrupt and undeserving of salvation, the only difference now was that there was an exception. Rollo would be lying if he sometimes didn’t go into town to glance at [Reader] and if he was lucky enough, he would be there at the same time. Over months though, he began to see less and less of them. He started to worry a bit, for the first weeks he chalked it up to [Reader] wanting time away from town but was surprised to know that nobody had seen them in the market for a month. Rollo approached a vendor, starting small talk,

“Good morning, Father Rollo. How do you do today?”

“I’m quite fine, thank you for asking. How about yourself?”

“Aw well, same! Business has been booming but I haven’t seen my top customer in a while!”

“Oh, and who is that?”

“[Reader]! They’re a sweet thing but suddenly stopped coming into town. I won’t lie, I am a little worried about them.”

“[Reader]? I don’t believe I’ve seen them at mass. . .”

“]Reader] used to go if I remember correctly, but I’m not too sure. I know they used to into town daily, aside from their work they loved to walk around the city. I think they stopped coming out as much a year or two ago, sometimes though they’ll come daily but it’s so rare when they do! I’m not quite sure why-!”

“It’s because of their partner!”

Rollo and the vendor turned to another person, an elderly lady who had joined the conversation.

“Their partner. . .?”

Rollo questioned,

“Yes! At first, it was sweet. They met at [Readers’s] work and instantly became close, I would sometimes frequent their workplace you see. Their partner treated them with so much kindness but after a while, it was plain as day, he was isolating them! I remember I was walking home when I overheard them get into an argument, he wanted [Reader] to quit their job. [Reader] refused and that was the end of it, I’m not sure how they managed to persuade him because all I could hear was his yelling. After a while, [Reader] didn’t come to work and I thought they did quit, but when they came back they weren’t the same. They were still kind as ever, but you could tell something was off. Whenever they do come into town, it’s because their partner isn’t in Fleur City. I heard he sometimes goes back to take care of his ill parents.”

Rollo was conflicted, who was this woman to be spreading such personal information of theirs but he had to thank her, without her, he never would have come to realize what needed to be done. Rollo had to admit, over the time he spent observing [Reader] he did become enamored with them. One true nature is revealed in several ways, how one presents oneself, their thoughts and actions, and what one preaches. Their nature had long been revealed, [Reader] was the only person whom Rollo believed was deserving of God’s love and he would not let them become a martyr for those deserving the flames of hell.

Rollo set his plan in motion. He carefully wrote a letter and paid someone who the town would never recognize to deliver it into the hands of [Reader’s] partner. Their partner read the contents and before they could react, the person who delivered it had vanished to report to Rollo.

“It’s been done?”

“Yes, Father Rollo. May I ask though, what do you plan-”

“That’s enough, you needn't worry about the content of the letter. Your task was to deliver, which you have. You’re free to go.”

The man excused himself, leaving Rollo at his desk with his elbows propped but his hands were close together. He was deep in thought,

“He would be wise to appear later tonight if he truly cares for his parents.”

Later that night, their partner had walked down to the waterways. There, they met a cloaked individual.

“Are you the one who sent me that letter? Who the fuck do you think you are to threaten my family-!”

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

The cloaked individual placed their hand out, to halt them from coming closer. They used that same hand to point upwards. When [Reader’s] partner looked up, they were met with several shadows who were not afraid to display their weapons.

“What do you want?”

Their partner scoffed out. The cloaked individual spoke out,

“You have a partner by the name of [Reader]. Let’s just say that they owe me something, that being said it’s hard for us to come in contact with one another. This is where you come in, I need you to lure them into town. Do it on a rainy day, when there are fewer people to overhear, but I need you to lure them to the center of town. Make sure that nobody sees you two or asks about you, do you understand?”

“What do they owe you-?!”

“That’s none of your concern! Just, lure them into the center of the town. My men will be watching to make sure no one interferes but remember, if someone comes to find out about this plan. Well, you know what will happen to your family, understood?”

Their partner gulped in fear and nodded,

“You may go, and remember to not tell a single soul about this. I’ll always be listening.”

They remained still for a brief moment, processing the words of the individual, before running out. Once they were out of sight, the person removed their cloak. Rollo stood in the center, looking at the moon and breathing out a sigh of relief. Those armed shadows turned to Rollo and asked,

“Father Rollo, may I ask who that man is?”

“Just someone this world would be better without. Keep me updated on his location and if he says anything. Remember, this is all to protect Fleur City.”

Rollo disappeared within the waterways.

Rollo approached the fireplace in his office and looked down at the handkerchief once more before tenderly caressing it into his face.

“[Reader], I’ll repeat your name over and over like a prayer, I’d never tire of it. . .if only you knew of all things I did for you to be by my side. . .”

The memory rolled over in his head,

“There is a storm coming, we should make preparations in case of anything.”

“Oh, you’re always so diligent and a step ahead, Father Rollo.”

“Madam, one can never be too prepared.”

The madam shook her head at Rollo’s comments but carried out his request. He had stood in preparation for anything. If what was revealed was true, then [Reader] was certainly being isolated by their partner. Their abusive partner would take advantage of another. That being said, he planned to make it so that they lured [Reader] out into the center of town, where the cathedral lay. Their partner may not know it as he was certain he had never seen him before but [Reader] should. They would request sanctuary from the church and there, He would be by the door, awaiting his beloved with open arms.

Before he knew it, he could hear the shouts and screams outside the door.

“Sanctuary, give me sanctuary!”

Before long, Rollo had opened the door and with a perfect facade, displayed concern. He could tell the way their partner trembled that he had feared for his family, he was caught by the church. Their partner had no choice but to flee the scene with their tail between his legs. After Rollo instructed the Madam to watch over [Reader], Rollo had the guards chase after their partner. In the meantime, Rollo had placed his cloak on and made his way to the outskirts of town where he was being held.

“L-Let me go! Damn it, it wasn’t my fault-!”

“Didn’t I tell you not to let anyone interfere?”

“I-it wasn’t my fault! The church and that stupid priest got in the way! P-please leave my f-family alone-!”

Rollo removed his cloak and presented himself to their ex-partner.

“Y-you!?”

“Don’t worry, your family won’t suffer. Though I will admit, I didn’t think you would go through with sacrificing them.”

“Y-You threatened my family, w-why wouldn’t I?”

“I suppose there is some logic to that reason. Tell me, did you even love them?”

“W-what? I-I suppose I did?”

“You suppose? You’re not certain?”

Rollo questioned them further,

“I mean yes! Yes, I did love them! W-what does this have to do with anything, you said they owed you something no-?”

“ No, they don’t. I did this more to see what you would do and you played right into it. Once again, I was proved right. Humanity is undeserving of God’s love and salvation, you’re all just scum that turn against each other at any moment it’s convenient. You disgust me.”

“Y-You did this to prove a point!? Y-You think I won’t reveal to the townspeople who their beloved priest is?”

“Not very intelligent either, are you? I’m not worried, because this is where judgment shall be passed onto you. This goes a little deeper than what you think, but no matter. I hereby declare you, guilty, and your sentence, punished by death. Dispose of him.”

Rollo turned around, ignoring the pleas of that man. He did turn around to see their execution, before turning back.

“We shall burn his body, but in the meantime place him somewhere no one will find out. Oh and, arrange for someone to take care of his parents. Hire a doctor to live with them.”

The others nodded and carried out the order. Rollo headed back to town with a clear conscious.

His attention remained on the flames. They had burned his body and afterward, devised a plan to break the news to his parents. As far as they were concerned, he had passed away from a natural cause but because he was such a good member of the church, he was able to have a doctor stay with them full-time. He placed a chaste kiss on the handkerchief,

‘This burning desire is turning me to sin. . .’

Rollo was sitting at the Confessional and while he was a man of God, he was also human. Like humans, he was running short of his patience. Father Rollo was a devoted man to his occupation, but of course, even messengers of God need time of their own. He was covering for another priest, Father Phoebus, who unexpectedly became ill. Rollo’s face turned into one of annoyance and anger, he was certain that the priest wasn’t ill but rather skipping out on his duties.

‘ No matter, confession ends in about 10 minutes. . .I just need to hold out till then.’

Rollo’s optimistic outlook was shattered the moment he heard someone else sit on the other side of the confessional. He rolled his eyes before turning to the wooden lattice opening but stiffened when he saw it was [Reader]. Luckily, this confessional was designed so that the priest would be hidden away and the penitent was visible.

“I do apologize for coming in so late, Father Phoebus. . but I would like to confess my sins.”

Rollo cleared his throat,

“Of course, please, confess to me what ails you.”

He placed his gaze at [Reader], who remained unaware that instead of Father Phoebus, it was Rollo.

“Right, to be honest, I’m not quite sure where to begin. All I know is, I’m committing a grave sin. I ... . .in love with a man that I cannot have. He is married to a vow.”

Rollo’s breath hitched, turned to stare at [Reader] who looked down in regret and disappointment.

“M-married? May I ask, which vow this man is married to?”

[Reader] stiffened at the question,

“Father Phoebus. . .it's Father Rollo who I am enamored with. He is God's messenger and as such, I know my feelings will never be reciprocated yet! Yet, I can’t help but still love him.”

Rollo knew that Reader required guidance and genuine support, but he couldn’t help the need or desire after hearing that the one he loved also felt the same. He pulled out the wine-red handkerchief with the beautiful purple embroidery that outlined the cloth and spelled his name on the corner. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it as his dick hardened at the idea of [Reader].

“T-tell me, how much you love him?”

Rollo swallowed the lump in his throat.

“O-Oh w-well. . .”

It was an awkward question no doubt so there was some resistance from [Reader]. Rollo pressed on,

“I would like to know how deep your admiration goes so that I c-can properly guide you.”

“R-right. . well, I love him. At first, I thought it was just admiration because he helped me get back on my feet. When I gave him his handkerchief, I saw more than a simple thanks on his face, but a face of genuine gratitude, which made me fall deeper. I know he’s only being kind to me because it’s the right thing to do and not because of any special treatment, but I can’t help but-”

Rollo continued to listen to their feelings, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t thinking about stroking his cock to their voice. Rollo had never experienced such feelings towards anyone before, but after meeting [Reader] he became a victim of the sin of greed and lust.

“Though I will admit, maybe the reason I love him is because I feel safe and secure with him. With my past partner, I didn’t feel the same sense of security. I did at first, but after a while, they became the aggressor. I’m not sure why I didn’t leave immediately after and I kept beating myself up about but Father Rollo, assured me that it was not my fault. He was so kind and understanding, it was different from the others who told me something similar. It was sincere from both sides, but with him it was. . it was different.”

When they finished confessing, Rollo spoke,

“I don’t think you should be ashamed of your feelings. It’s a natural human thing to feel, love that is. You’re right, Father Rollo is a man tied to an oath by the Church. Under the eyes of God, he may not reciprocate your feelings but that doesn’t mean he would see you any less different. Your sins are forgiven, my child.”

[Reader] nodded and bid farewell to ‘Father Phoebus’. Rollo watched their figure retreat and let out a breath of relief. Though he could not stop the pounding in his heart nor the tent in his pants.

“F-Fuck! [R-Reader]-!”

Rollo had retreated to his office once confessions were over, there he had his handkerchief wrapped around his dick, jerking himself off. The one that he loved felt the same for him but he was sure their love was not the same as his obsession with them. Such a pure and innocent crush on him whereas he shamefully was stroking his cock to the idea of touching them.

“Ha. . ha. . wanna t-touch you, fuck-!”

He threw his head back at the pleasure, how would [Reader] react to seeing their beloved Father Rollo fuck the handkerchief that they had gifted him. His orgasm was approaching and his whines were getting louder, he leaned over his table and spilled his seed onto the wine-red cloth, sweat adorning his face. He let out a sigh of relief and sat down on his chair. He thought of [Reader] and this new found confession. Rollo’s mind was made up.

“I think we’re all good to go, [Reader] we’re heading out now!”

“Have a good night!”

[Reader] bid the other church volunteers farewell before giving the church one last good look. They were about to grab their things to depart as well before the doors opened. They turned to look at Father Rollo, who emerged from his office.

“F-Father Rollo. . .what brings you out here so late?”

“I’m just giving the Church one final look, but I did hope to catch you before you left.”

“Me?”

“Yes, come [Reader], take a walk with me.”

[Reader] approached Rollo and their walk began. He was taking them across the Cathedral to put out the candles.

“I know it’s been a while, but how have you been enjoying yourself in Fleur City?”

“Oh, just fine! Thank you again, for all that you’ve done of course. It certainly feels amazing being able to freely leave and return without being shackled down. Not to mention, it’s a lot more eventful than I remember.”

“I see, Father Pheobus has attempted to get more events hosted by the church. He would like the city to get together once in a while. It’s something new that he has been doing, but it seems that the townspeople enjoy it.”

“That they do, may I ask, Father Rollo? Do you not like to get involved in events like these?”

The main hall of the Cathedral was darkening with each step,

“I wouldn’t say I dislike it. Socializing with others isn’t my strong suit, I tend to other matters that I excel at rather than mistakenly saying something I don’t mean.”

[Reader] had noticed that Rollo tended to stay in the shadows and only speak when something needed to be said. If someone approached him and tried conversing, Rollo would maintain the utmost professionalism. He wasn’t one for idle chatter but never turned someone down if they wanted to have a word with him. Rollo continued his task, with [Reader] following close behind.

“That’s fair. Sometimes not saying anything is the proper response, but I can see how that may stress you out. After all, you are a priest and everyone’s eyes are on you. Sorry, don’t mean to add to the pressure either.”

As the candles were extinguished one by one, Rollo’s heels added to the ominous vibe that the Cathedral was giving.

“You’re right, [Reader]. As a priest, all their eyes are on me waiting to hear what I say but as such, my eyes are also on them. Despite what I preach, I believe that not everyone is capable of salvation. Humans are not devoid of sin, that is the truth. Though we are created in God’s image, we certainly are not perfect. There are those where their sins are mistakes and nothing more. Then some’s sins are perfectly under their control yet still choose to see nothing wrong in their actions. You can have that outlier where one of those wishes to repent and truly feel regret, but then some parade around shamelessly into God’s house asking for forgiveness. It’s laughable.”

[Reader] remained silent. There was nothing they could say because ultimately, Father Rollo was right to some degree. Though they would be lying if they weren’t off-put by his sudden change.

“ Did you know that the baker is having an affair? Ongoing for four years actually, yet he never fails to bring his wife and kids into mass every Sunday morning, thanking God for allowing them to live the way they do. They recently had their marriage anniversary, married for 10 years to be exact. I remember I was the one who renewed their vows. His words still ring in my head,”

“I will love you forever and until the end. You’re the pillar that provides me with the strength to keep going. I would never want another partner other than you, the woman I chose to be the mother of my children. I thank God for this blessing that is you, my love.”

“How romantic, don’t you think? That same night he went back to his other partner, claiming that they had a big order for an event and he needed to be one step ahead of the game. How could I forget the previous head of the Orphanage, asking for food to provide for the children? The church and townspeople helped with what they could, but every time those children would come into mass they remained as thin as ever but the head remained full and content. It wasn’t until I stepped in and of course, led an investigation to find out that he was starving the kids and eating all the food. Now the orphanage is under the care of the Church, to be more specific, under my direct care. Don’t you see how happy those children are every time you come to mass? I even remember when Madam first came to the church, she told us the story of her husband's passing. She and her beloved husband were walking back home when an armed assailant was waiting for them, upon asking for their valuables he stabbed her husband over 27 times before fleeing. When the man was caught, he was just a petty thief who confessed to the crime. Their reasoning was they had no need to steal but got a kick out of watching the fear in the eyes of the defenseless manifest and to make matters worse, this was his first time killing since he never dared to do it before. What could an elderly man do to him had he chosen to fight back, nothing. That same thief pleaded with God before his execution that I had carried out, to spare him.”

By the time Rollo had gotten to his part in his talk, almost all the candles were out except for four in the front of the altar. There Rollo turned around, facing [Reader] who stood in the middle closest to the altar. He was closest to the church doors but that area had been pitch black. He continued his speech and though he did not pose a threat to [Reader], yet, They couldn’t help the goosebumps that were forming on their skin and the sudden draft within the Cathedral.

“Of course, the world is not black and white. There is no right or wrong, for if there was I too would have been punished. It’s not practical for me to base my distaste of humanity on a few bad apples, Madam, even after everything she went through still says that everyone deserves salvation but it’s like you said, [Reader]. We’re all so used to this world the way it is that a simple act of kindness, normalcy if you will, is considered a rarity.”

[Reader] had recalled when they told that vendor that, those were their words and they still stood by it. The only thing was, they told that to the vendor, not Rollo. They shakily took a step back but kept their eyes trained on Rollo. He noticed their expression as well as their stance, but it was no use. The door to the church was locked and only Rollo had the key. He took a step forward, emerging from the darkness and [Reader] took a step back.

“F-Father Rollo. . is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Sorry. . I just don’t know how this relates to me. . .”

He let out a chuckle,

“ You asked why I don’t like to get involved, right? That is my answer. It’s hard to get involved when I am surrounded by the same people I wish I could condemn. However, you are different. I’ll let you in on a little secret, I too have been keeping an eye on you long before we officially met. You treated everyone with kindness even those that did not deserve it. You remained as human as possible, someone who could voice their feelings and care for everyone equally, even yourself. It was a sight for sore eyes, like an angel in a sea of devils. You tried your best and worked hard, but you knew what you could and couldn’t do. You were even starting to make me regain hope in this world but I quickly noticed that warm light inside of you start to flicker. It was all because of him, [Partner’s Name]. He had slowly started to dim that warm light inside of you and I couldn’t do anything, or so I thought. Your partner driving you out of your home was not accidental, I can assure you. I had him lure you here, into the Church. There, I was able to save you from him.”

[Reader’s] breath hitched. They had always assumed that all the events that led up to now were a mere coincidence, life just being its usual confusing self. It was not unusual for their partner to enter their shared home and demand things, bossing them around. They had assumed that it was the usual same old story. This didn’t change how they saw their partner and their relief that he was no longer in their life, but it changed their perception of Rollo. Had Rollo orchestrated their whole thing? Since when? For how long? Most importantly, for what?

“Since we are in a church, I might as well confess. I have kept my eye on every single Fleur citizen since I became a priest, but I have kept my eye on you for months now. It’s hard for me to communicate with everyone, but not you [Reader]. Since I’ve been admiring you from a distance, I’ve come to love you. I love your person and your way of being. Your kindness, your truth, your struggles, everything about you I have come to love.”

By now, [Reader] was up against the altar with Rollo standing in front of them. Both were illuminated by the remaining candles, his hand reached out to caress their cheek.

“I’ve come to love everything about you, [Reader], even the parts that you aren’t aware of. I’ll remain to love them as well, for there is no one else.”

“F-Father R-Rollo, I-!”

He leaned closer to them, his piercing blue-green eyes staring into [Readers] fearful and confused ones. He placed a kiss on their lips, tilting their head back to get a better angle. Seconds passed before he lifted his lips from them,

“. .And if you were to fall into sin, let it be by my hands.”

Conflicted could not begin to describe it. The person they loved reciprocated their feelings, so much that they kissed at this very moment. Though logically speaking, Rollo had just admitted to orchestrating the whole thing. Who knew what was the truth and what was a lie? Did their partner move? Was it willingly? Most importantly, did it matter? Sure, maybe there was a time when logic was sound but that time wasn’t right now. Thinking with their heart, [Reader] kissed back. They shared a deep and sensual kiss that neither one dared to break. Rollo pushed his body up against [Reader], grinding into them. The altar luckily wasn’t too high, but there were small steps on either side that allowed them to effortlessly get on the altar. Rollo managed to push their back flat against the cold marbled table,

“F-Father R-Rollo, are you sure? Y-you’re a man with a vow and-”

“[Reader], I love you.”

Their eyes widened once more at the confession and looking up, they weren’t meant with the Rollo they knew. He was no longer stoic and professional, this Rollo was vulnerable. His cheeks were flushed pink as he straddled [Reader’s] hips. His body loomed over theirs and his hands went to open their top. His eyes were glossed over with love and desire. [Reader’s] top was opened to expose their chest and his hands lightly touched their skin. His cold fingers trailed from their neck, chest, and lastly their nipples. Rollo let out a shaky sigh,

“I love you. Let me worship you, with God as my witness let me prove my devotion to you. .”

Rollo’s lips neared [Reader’s] and they exchanged a kiss. He lightly bit on their bottom lip, asking for permission to further taste them. A moan escaped [Reader] but they opened their mouth to allow his tongue inside. Rollo pressed himself further into [Reader], afraid to let go. Needing air, [Reader] placed their hands on his clothed chest, pushing against it. Releasing their lips, Rollo straightened but released a breathy moan. [Reader] could see the warmth spreading across his pale skin, but could also feel his growing bulge. Rollo began to lean back down but stopped when [Reader] went to open his top. He allowed them to strip him of his shirt, allowing his pale chest to be exposed.

“I want to see you too, R-Rollo. . .”

The tip of his ears turned pink at the comment. He leaned down to their neck, licking up and down. Nibbling and biting down to create hickeys. His lips trailed down, kissing the skin around the newly formed hickey and down to their chest. Moans spilled from both Rollo and [Reader], the pleasure shared between the two. His tongue swirled around their nipple, lightly biting and sucking on them. [Reader] tenderly held Rollo’s head as he worked on their chest. Shaky breaths echoed throughout the Cathedral.

“F-Fuck. . R-Rollo-!”

Rollo lifted himself from their chest and saw the bright pink/red circular marks all across their chest.

“Not enough. . .it’s not e-enough. . “

Rollo leaned back down, kissing down to their navel area. His hands played with their bottoms, opening them agonizingly slow. He pulled them down their legs and he shifted back, making sure he could properly remove them.

“F-Fuck, y-your sex. . .”

Rollo’s shaky moans slipped out, he stared in awe at [Reader’s] aroused sex. He shifted back before nearing their sex and inhaling their scent. Rollo’s fingers carefully touched around, going to their most sensitive spot and circling his finger around.

“R-Rollo…right there…feels good….”

Rollo nodded, continuing to circle his finger. After a while he leaned down, placing his tongue on their sensitive spot. He licked around, replacing the movement of his finger, and began to lick up and down. [Reader] let out soft moans and breaths as he continued pleasuring them. He began to kiss, suck, lick, pinch, and stroke their sensitive bits. Rollo took a break to lick his fingers and pushed them against [Reader’s] hole. Lightly inserting a finger inside, feeling them clench around it.

“Do you lust for me. . the same way I lust for you?”

“ I-I’ve a-always wanted you-ngh!”

Though Rollo wasn’t attending to their sex with his mouth, he was still reaching inside them with his fingers. Slipping a second finger to curl up against that soft spot inside them, pumping rhythmically. Rollo leaned back down, placing his mouth back on their sex. Rollo himself wasn’t too experienced, but based on their sounds, he knew more or so where to touch. His long slender fingers managed to reach thoroughly and the stimulation with his tongue was overwhelming.

“F-Fuck Rollo, g-gonna cum-!”

Rollo continued to abuse their sex, giving them that final push needed to orgasm. Rollo’s face was drenched with drool and cum, but still managed to swallow everything that they released. He unbuttoned his pants, releasing his cock that was already leaking pre-cum. He wrapped his hands around it, stroking himself.

“Can I-fuck! P-put it inside you. . .?”

Rollo’s half-lidded eyes pleaded with [Reader’s], begging to fuck them. [Reader] propped themself up with their elbow, sat up, and kissed him. Rollo leaned forward to reciprocate. They placed their hands on his cheeks and lightly caressed,

“You may. . .but can I. .be on top?”

Rollo softly nodded, letting [Reader] guide him to lie down on the altar instead. [Reader] went to stimulate his already hard dick, but wrapped their hands around it and jerk him, smearing his pre-cum around. They licked their fingers and trailed them down to their hole, lightly fingering themselves to adjust to his size. They scissored themself and when they were ready, hovered over his cock. They lowered themselves onto Rollo’s cock, clenching down on his dick.

“F-Fuck you’re tight-!”

Rollo threw his head back at the sensation and his hands reached to hold [Reader’s] hip. [Reader] stayed still to adjust to his size but after a while, began to move. Riding his cock, [Reader] threw their head back as breaths left them, their back slowly arching. Rollo thrust, matching their pace as well. One of his hands moved to their sex, stimulating it at the same pace.

Aside from the candles, the moonlight entered the Cathedral through the stained glass. The hue of the deep blues and purples reflected off their skin, creating an almost angelic glow. Their moans and whines echoed throughout the church, Rollo’s back was on the altar and his body coated in sweat. His eyes glossed over with tears, looking over at [Reader] who fared the same. Their body was sweaty and warm, their movements were slowing with time. Rollo’s thrust became more erratic, reaching deeper into [Reader].

“I-I’m close-! F-Fuck, f-feels s-so good-! Rollo!”

Mewls spilled out of [Reader]’s mouth.

“M-Me too-! I-I love you! L-Love you so much! God, I love you so much, [Reader]!”

“I l-love you too, R-Rollo-!”

With their final declaration of love, [Reader] came all over Rollo and he came deep inside of them. Their deep breaths were heard throughout the cathedral. [Reader] slumped on top of Rollo with his cock still inside them. They nuzzled into Rollo’s neck, peppering light kisses.

“Love you s’much, Rollo.”

“I love you too. . .[Reader].”

His arms wrapped around them, pressing them closer into him. They stayed like that for a while, before [Reader] perked up, looking at his face.

“I-I do have a question though. . .did you know that I liked you?”

Rollo looked down to see their curious gaze, he adverted his eyes with a blush staining his cheeks.

“It. . .it wasn’t Father Pheobus in the Confessional. It. . .it was me. . .”

[Readers] face fell,

“S-SO I CONFESSED TO YOU?”

[Reader] buried their face in his neck, Rollo let out a soft smile at their antics.

“That you did. Though I am glad, without you confessing to me, this never would have happened.”

Still buried in his neck, they mumbled a couple of words.

“I love you. . .”

Rollo, of course, said it back. He could hear their soft snores, they had passed out from exhaustion. Only one thought lay in his mind, there was no one else other than him that could preserve the purity within [Reader].

‘If hellfire must consume me, so be it. I will never let anyone else take you away from me. Your purity is for me to preserve and to taint, no one else.’

This was only the beginning of the tragic tell that would come about to Twisted Wonderland. The story of the righteous priest and judge who burned down Fleur City, all because of their desire for someone they could never truly have.

A/N: So that was a long one. . .how we feeling? I don’t think I will ever write a part 2, sorry :(( UNLESS I get inspiration but I do want to write headcanons for him so maybe? That being said I will be posting another post that will talk about the future of this blog (I AM NOT LEAVING DW)! That being said, I want to thank my friends for helping me with this fic! Special mention to my friend who helped me confirm his personality for me (I love you Nova) and my other friend, who got horny thoughts when they went to church! :3

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