#which i think should be taken into consideration

[snailfen]

after the easter update, in relation to the new note from delilah- i keep seeing people depict delilah as being a really awful person who doesn't care about bassie/the toons when they aren't good enough for her. and while yeah obviously delilah is responsible for Something and also why did she make the holiday toons Like That. i think people should analyze her tone in the easter note a little more? because i feel like theres more to understand about delilah from this note and no one's seeing it.

while the first part is just about as distant as her other notes, i don't think she sounds very dismissive of bassi! her tone is mostly analytical until that last part, which is really important to me because her tone is a lot more considerate ("i know this is very last minute."), and definitely the most concerned-sounding we've heard her.

that last sentence could very well be taken as her pinning the blame on arthur and not actually caring somehow, but i do think she wrote this with at least a LITTLE concern for bassie in mind based on her wording. she specifically notes that bassie probably won't be able to handle the pressure of being a main entertainer in gardenview as expected of her and i think that delilah sounds genuinely worried about the outcome if they didn't try to work this out.

with bassies obvious fear of replacement, and clear dislike of cocoa (the only other toon with plushies of her in the easter map when usually only mains have plushies) i do think it isnt unreasonable to come to the conclusion that their solution to this was replacement, however!!! i don't think this decision was made without bassie in mind, in fact i don't think this "replacement" was wholly against bassie for being too dependent on others.

my personal theory is: while yes cocoa has plushes, very odd for a non-main toon, theres still quite a lot of bassie plushes that assumingly were still being sold every easter event in the easter gift-shop. also, bassie's design sort of implies bunny features. it's kinda weird to have a toon that somewhat looks like a bunny, and then make a straight up bunny after that. finally, bassie seems to try to hide her problems/doesn't accept any help or concern (her dialogue with astro, flutter, cocoa too ig but thats Different).

by making another bunny-like toon, giving her helpful and insistent tendencies that would contrast bassies tendency to make it seem like nothings wrong with her, and then selling her merch alongside bassie, i think they intended for cocoa and bassie to end up being a pair that would share bassies role as the easter main to take pressure off of bassie. bassie however doesn't seem to be able to let go of her inability to live up to whats expected of her and when cocoa was introduced, she ended up taking this to mean absolutely worst case scenario. not to mention, cocoa doesn't seem aware that shes meant to "replace" anyone, and while she could've just been kept in the dark about this, she also calls bassie her friend and just kinda... assumes bassie acts the way she does because its who she is.

that all being said gardenview is Twisteds & Lack Of Security Regulations Georg, the 1000 security violations and 100 abominations against nature outlier that should not have been counted so maybe the idea of the founders even SLIGHTLY making a responsible decision for a toons actual well-being and just accidentally messing it up instead of just trying to full on replace her is silly. i mean i wouldnt be surprised

[axvoter]

Fusion delusion and HTV confusion

This week, the Fusion Party—whom I reviewed at considerable length and not because I think they are a good option—posted how-to-vote cards (HTVs). Today, they retracted some of them and deleted posts from social media platforms. So, it's going well!

It seems there was very little vetting, with candidates not just free to allocate their own preferences but also with no review or questions asked before the HTVs were posted publicly. It speaks poorly of party processes that evidently nobody said "uhh hey what's going on here?"

Luckily, I saved a couple of the worst HTVs for individual seats, and the Victorian Senate HTV is still up. Shall we have a look? Let's begin with that Senate HTV:

I will get the obvious dunk out of the way: this is an atrocious design, busy and unpleasant on the eye. The emojis are completely unserious. But, look, HTVs are rarely artistic masterpieces. They should communicate a party's agenda concisely—which this one does not do, there's way too much text—and set out some preference recommendations to aid their supporters.

And hoo boy look at those Fusion preferences: Libertarians in 5th above Labor in 9th and the Greens in 10th. The Libertarians are one of Australia's most loathsome minor parties and they stand against what Fusion claims to be their core values, such as a denial of the reality of climate change that is at odds with the "Planet Rescue" part of Fusion's current registered name. How would you feel if you were a member of Fusion constituent party Vote Planet? I'd assume not great, although I also understand Kammy Cordner Hunt, the Victorian lead Senate candidate above, is from that wing. A penny for her thoughts!

Fusion have been taking some serious flak for this on social media. If you have a Facebook account, here is the announcement of the Senate HTV, with reactions and defensive replies by the official Fusion account and some candidates. People are not happy about that Libertarian preference, and the second candidate on the Vic ticket, Simon Gnieslaw, has been responding at length (hi Simon, I'm sure you're reading; yes I remember you getting upset in my DMs in 2022 because I called your centrism "waffle" and your website "amateurish"). I've screenshotted three choice replies below.

This is quite silly rhetoric and it seems that some Fusion organisers have been taken in by smooth talk from one of Australia's most distasteful parties. The Libertarians' lead candidate in Victoria is a literal con artist and the party are bad-faith actors. It is little wonder that in private they can make soothing noises of "good will" and massage the ego of Fusion delegates in preference discussions. Gnieslaw's comments (particularly that third screenshot) also evince a naive belief in "compromise" above everything else. Forever seeking compromise rather than sticking to principles is just a way to allow bad-faith actors to drag the Overton window towards themselves. This is delusional stuff.

As for the Greens, they have little incentive to deal with electoral lightweights such as Fusion. The Greens' preferences are certain to be distributed after Fusion is already out of the count, if distributed at all. Unlike the Libertarians, who as a fellow micro-party need all the favourable HTV treatment they can get and will say whatever it takes to get a good placement in the hope it pays off in the contest for the last Senate quota, Fusion are the ones who need to get the Greens to want to work with them, not the other way around. It seems Fusion can't play with the big kids who have built a seat-winning constituency in every state—possibly because Gnieslaw has a personal grievance against them over the Israel–Palestine conflict, as articulated on his candidate page. The HTV above claims Fusion is "the only party with a Tangible Peace Plan for the war in Israel and Palestine" (oh yeah sure you've solved a century-long conflict) and even more ridiculously suggests that Fusion is "already working in the background to deliver this plan" (solving the problems of the world over beers at the pub is not "working in the background"). You can read this Tangible Peace Plan for yourself; perhaps you'll agree with me that would be better summarised as intangible principles.

One more comment on the Senate HTV before I move on to some of the House HTVs: if you looked closely, you would have noticed that among the unnecessary emojis are three other symbols. One, a circle with 3 Rs, indicates support for the Climate Rescue Accord, which Fusion developed through negotiations with the Animal Justice Party, Australian Progressives (contesting this election as part of Fusion), and Reason (now de-registered, with Fiona Patten standing for Legalise Cannabis). It has reasonable enough objectives mixed with the sort of futurism about R&D into technologies that some would dub optimistic and others fanciful. The second is a Khamsa symbol, which indicates parties who have given in-principle support for Fusion's "Tangible Peace Plan". And the third is a symbol indicating support for a Universal Basic Income.

The thing about these symbols is that they mean nothing to the average voter, and although they are explained on the Senate HTV, Fusion has used them on HTVs for seats in the House of Representatives with no explanation. They're simply mysterious icons beside their name and that of some other parties. If you are even mildly inclined to conspiratorial thinking, you might wonder what they are meant to communicate and to whom.

So, let's turn to HTVs for specific seats. Remember, Fusion has recently incorporated the Australian Progressives (who, despite their name, now claim to be in the "sensible centre") and Democracy First (a fringe right-wing org of serial candidate Vern Hughes). It seems candidates had freedom to distribute their preferences however they wanted, and some went... off message.

First, the Fusion candidate in Melbourne, Helen Huang:

Yes, she is sending her second preference to independent Tim Smith and her third to the Liberals. Smith is not the disgraced ex-Victorian Liberal politician of that name, but a contestant from Married at First Sight who says that "I don’t like politicians" and promotes the "strategic" use of social media outlets like Instagram and Tik Tok to gauge public opinion instead of holding referendums (wait until this guy finds out about constitutional law!). As for why on earth the Liberals are third, above Labor or the Greens, the HTV itself says this is because of Steph Hunt's "credentials in peacebuilding to end wars and bring people together". Yes, Liberal credentials in peacebuilding. Ponder that one!

But the real humdinger is the HTV for McEwen candidate Erin McGrath. See if you can spot the issue among the preferences:

That's right: Family First is preferenced fourth, above any of the major parties. Yes, the Family First, the party of vile anti-LGBTIQ campaigner and professional eater-of-shit Lyle Shelton. They could scarcely be more at odds with core Fusion values.

But it gets better because people pressed Fusion about this on Twitter and they simply couldn't pick a lane. The original post has now been deleted—it just had some HTVs including McGrath's for McEwen—but if you have a log-in you can view a surviving comment chain here. One reply flagged some of the bizarre decisions, and the official account began by saying that they were made based on personal interactions:

So, at first, Fusion are fine with preferencing "one guy" from Family First for being "vaguely reasonable". Then, as the negative response grew, they deleted and offered this explanation:

Yup, apparently this was simply a production mistake. If that is true, it speaks very poorly for the party's internal oversight, because multiple people clearly did not think to say anything when making, approving, or posting the HTV. And when pressed on this, Fusion replied with an absolute gem:

Things had changed?? It's Family First. WHAT CHANGED.

The party says it is a mistake, but these contortions are worthy of professional gymnasts. It seems the reality is more straightforward. The party's own list of candidates includes a small logo showing which constituent of Fusion the candidate is aligned with. Some, such as Huang in Melbourne, appear to be unaligned, but Erin McGrath in McEwen is aligned with—you guessed it!—Democracy First. She's part of Vern's right-wing rabble. I am far more prepared to believe she genuinely sympathises with the Family First candidate than that "things had changed". The only thing that changed is people noticed this laughable preference at odds with Fusion's own stated values.

We will see what an updated McEwen HTV looks like and if any others are amended. In any case, this further affirms for me that Fusion is not—or at least is no longer—a decent choice, least of all for left-wing voters who might have positive memories of some parties that are now part of Fusion.

[mi-co-uk]

hii ! so I just wanted to make a post about something that has been bothering me for a little while - this isn't meant to target anyone in particular but I hope this gets taken seriously and into consideration.

I really feel like we should stop promoting ai use. and I'm talking about c.ai in particular as its really popular to make bots on here. a lot of my favourite blogs will make or use these bots so I'm really not trying to offend anyone I just think we need to be knowledgeable about it's impacts.

as some of you are hopefully aware , chatgbt and any ai platform use so much electronic energy - to the point that they have a larger footprint than even entire states.

here are some fact checked statistics to back me up:

a single request through chatgbt uses ten times the electricity of a Google search. continuing to use ai is on track to result in data centres accounting for as much as 35 percent of a whole country's energy use by 2026. view here.

you can test how much carbon a website produces using this website - HERE which shows that c.ai has a 66% larger emission rate than all web pages globally. almost all ai programs have its information used in data centres and other places which overall creates an even larger carbon footprint.

this is only the surface level information and there's so much more out there proving we shouldn't be promoting this kind of ai use !

I'm only trying to be informative as I don't think people are as aware of these factors as they should be. I understand this can be upsetting as I know no one is intentionally using ai for its negative impacts but all I want is for you to KNOW. please take this all into consideration if you continue making or using chat bots or other ai programs, better yet - stop using them.

thank you for reading and I hope this is informative while not offending anyone. if you have any questions feel free to send me an ask / message me !

please reblog to spread awareness !

[charliespringverse]

... it's just hit me that lister describes the bathroom kiss as assault and even when jimmy reassures him that he doesn't see it that way and doesn't have a problem with it, lister refuses to accept that it was anything other than objectively assault

while two days earlier jimmy insisted that a 32-yr-old having sex with lister at age 16 was wrong, despite lister not seeing it that way and not having a problem with it

does that mean that lister took that conversation on board but only as far as "the person on the receiving end of an advance can't accurately assess whether or not it was wrong" and is now equating himself to the woman that took advantage of him . because i will weep

[wonder-worker]

that feeling when you want to write a long post ranting discussing something you feel especially strongly about but you're just. too Tired to actually sit down and do it

[creatingblackcharacters]

My Notes of Concern: Week 1

Yes, these will feel most directed at white folk. That is because y'all participated the most and were easiest to observe. But it's notes on and perspective for everyone 👍🏾

-For some of these characters where their Blackness was genuinely questionable (where we thought "this is a white man but grey", some I let slide to see how people would respond. What it suggested to me is that some of y'all often know what features you will consider "not Black" in your media. Which means you know when these Black characters are being drawn with eurocentric features. So you can SEE when it's happening... So then how often do you willingly let it slide in your media? It makes me wonder if participation in the Ambiguously Brown character design is more of a conscious act than I'd originally believed. Now again, this is likely bias of my userbase, but I did find that worrisome.

-But THEN, there were far more comments made and votes chosen that made me wonder... What do y'all think Black people look like? Because there would be characters that I could immediately see, that people would say were ambiguous. But then characters who were actually ambiguous would get peak. What went into that decision? I know I keep bringing it up, but it genuinely baffled me how Rene was deemed peak, but Iosef started off as mid, when Rene's design only covered half of his face.

-I think what I realized is that people are treating the things we say are offensive as... A checklist, and not really things that are applied in context. Which means we're not really understanding WHY things are offensive, just that we "should know" they are! Peeping and avoiding participating in racism will never be as easy as "these things bad!" It's not. We live day to day like a constant game (the Great American game, ha! Oh Kendrick.) of quick time events. You never know who's gonna say what and how they're gonna react, you only have context clues. If it were as easy as a list, life wouldn't be this hard and breaking this system would be easy 😭 Sorry.

-For example, characters with straightened hair. I felt like the concept of straightened hair is confusing to white voters. I say that because straightened hair is not inherently bad Black character design. We have styles with straight hair! This is just where intent comes into play. Does it look like this character's Blackness was taken into consideration on the style, or did they just plop on the Brazilian bussdown on their head? Did it do that little stupid hook shape on the ends that indicates waves, or did it actually look like "this is a Black character with flat ironed hair, or a wig, or sew in (etc.)"?

-For another example, skin that isn't perfectly brown, maybe even greyish. Okay. That can be an issue! What we then ask ourselves is: is that art style consistent with everything else, or is everyone else well lit and the Black character is not? Is this character grey because the artist clearly doesn't know how to work with deeper brown skin tones, or is it grey on purpose? So when you go forth in the future, remember that it's about the entirety of it. Can you tell from the art that this is purposeful, or a bias? Intent, or not?

-For yet another example: there seemed to be strong push about biracial characters and why their designs seem ambiguous (which is simply not always true), but that same understanding and grace did not seem extended to visibly light-skinned Black people. Why? And I was genuinely confused by this one. Because there are light-skinned Black people! And you can often tell when they're Black! My theory is that y'all found it easier to peep whiteness and therefore defend its features, but did not know how to recognize it in "full" (ick) Blackness. Like, regardless of how The Proud Family's colorism affects its character design, Trudy Proud is visibly just a light-skinned Black woman with flatironed hair. I don't see how that's not visible unless you've just... Never seen one before. 😅

-Just an aside- and this is just a passion of mine- I feel like there is an overrepresentation of what we expect Black biracial people to look like, which is light-skinned with fluffy yet loose textured hair. I don't understand how we get "white passing" people that are Black biracial, but the idea on the other end of the spectrum- Black biracial children with darker skin tones- is not a concept that occurs more often in media. Like, there has to be Black biracial children that don't "look like" whiteness, the same way there are Black biracial children that don't look Black at all! So I really think we ought to loosen our grip on what and how we deem "this person is mixed". Maybe they're just light-skinned. Maybe they're brown-skinned and biracial! But that's me. 🙌🏾

-The "I didn't know they were supposed to be Black" well, if you don't know a character is even supposed to be Black, how would you even know to look for narrative relevance, or even stereotypes? How would you even understand what's going on if you don't even know what I look like enough to even recognize that this is the story being told? This is another one of those "character design affects the writing" moments, but it's also a "I need to expand how I recognize Blackness" moments. Let's do better on that.

[xiaowhore]

hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!

premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)

word count. 1.5k

note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.

You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.

You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?

You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.

But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!

With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.

Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.

“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.

“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”

When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”

That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.

Still.

“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”

...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”

He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.

“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”

“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.

Silence ensues.

“Do you like showers, sir?”

You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.

“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.

You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”

Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”

Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”

“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”

Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”

“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”

“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”

“Really, now?”

“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”

You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”

“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.

You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.

“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”

“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”

“In court, I only state facts.”

You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.

“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.

“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.

“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.

“You should still keep it.”

He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”

You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”

Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”

And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.

The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.

That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”

You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”

Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”

“Hey!”

(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in—

But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)

[champagnefountains]

LUCIFER MAGNE – H.H

CHAPTER III (Finale) - Prompt: Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

Previous chapters: I [x], II [x] Word count: 2.6k+ words (unedited) Genre/other tags: Angst with comfort. Good ending. Jealousy. Warnings: Cursing (of course). Gets a little bit heated towards the end, but nothing too explicit. Alastor being an asshole.

Much to your surprise, you found yourself enjoying Alastor’s company. When he wasn’t being the maddening person that he can be, he was actually quite pleasant to be around. After grabbing the items that Charlie had requested (which had all been teleported back to the hotel), Alastor convinced you to have a leisurely stroll around the outskirts of town. There, he introduced you to the many places he frequented, from the small, homey cafe he would always go to, to even the butchers where he purchases his premium meats. All the while, you tried to ignore the looks that you got from the surrounding residents – a mixture of fear and distaste were sent towards the radio-demon, whilst others stared at you in question, wondering who you may be and what you were doing with the Overlord. 

Even though you weren’t in the mood to chat, Alastor was more than happy to fill in the silence, sharing a couple stories and cracking corny jokes here and there, which you had to admit were pretty funny. After an exhausting week, it made you realise how nice it was to actually smile and laugh again.

After a couple hours, you both made your way back to the hotel. All the while, Alastor had been recounting a narrative from his times in the living world which had taken a particularly hilarious turn, causing you both to chuckle aloud. You wiped the amused tear that escaped your eye as Alastor pushed through the front doors of the establishment. 

“Oh, fuck no!” A familiar voice shouted from the distance, startling and causing you to flinch on the spot. Swiftly turning your head to the source of the ruckus, you were dumbfounded to see Lucifer himself, stomping his way towards your direction with a vexed expression. Behind him, you saw a distressed Charlie staggering towards him as Vaggie followed suit.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you asshole!?” Lucifer growled, getting up close and personal with Alastor, whilst poking an accusatory finger against his chest. Before you could’ve reacted, you were then pulled back by the deer-demon, who draped an arm around your shoulders.

“Now, now, why the sudden hostility? I was only taking my darling [Name] out for a much needed breath of fresh air!” Alastor chimes, feigning innocence and batting his lashes. “I took it upon myself to look after her wellbeing. We’ve all been so worried since she’s just been so, so dispirited and blue lately…and I’m sure you know why that is, your highness.” The backhanded comment caused you to swiftly peer up at the Overlord, baffled by the harshness of his remark. But as you observe his ever-growing grin, it only then struck you, the sole purpose behind his kind display towards you. 

Meanwhile, it had Lucifer fuming. Literally. “Why you little, piece of shit–” The King then grabbed Alastor by his dress-shirt, the fabric scorching under his touch, “who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like that?” Seeing the growing tension between the two men, Charlie immediately stepped forward. “Dad, stop it,” she sternly said, grabbing his wrist in warning. Lucifer was quick to shake the girl’s hand off, tightening his grip on Alastor’s shirt, “No, Charlie, I need to put this pompous asshole back in his place! It seems he doesn’t know basic courtesy, and how to keep out of other people’s business.”

Alastor chortles mockingly in response. “Oh, hoh? You speak of courtesy? I believe you should take your own advice, your highness, as you seem to lack consideration to those around you,” he pushed even further, all the while peering down at you from the corner of his eyes. Lucifer follows his line of sight, his eyes landing on the troubled expression etched on your face. His gaze softened for a brief moment, before hardening once more as he fixed his attention back to the Overlord.

“You better shut that damn trap of yours if you know what’s good for you,” Lucifer warns deeply. “Now, I’m merely sticking up for a dear pal of mine. So tell me, what exactly is so wrong about that?” Alastor shoots back, harshly flicking the man’s hand away. Tutting, he patted down his now-tattered suit, an eye twitching in mild annoyance. 

“It is when you decide to overstep boundaries.” With a blink of an eye, Lucifer’s scleras suddenly switched over to a red hue, sending you into sudden caution. Alastor’s grin turned almost sinister at the challenging tone. “Perhaps it’s necessary to do so. After all, dear [Name] over here had a pleasant time. There was no harm done.”

The King gritted his teeth, his horns threatening to reveal themselves, “Oh, but that’s what you think. ‘Cause someone will be harmed if you decide to keep this shit up–”

“Lucifer, stop.” Almost instantaneously, the King’s fumes were extinguished as he turned his gaze towards you. He felt shame fill him to the core at the sight of your disappointed expression, glaring at him in disapproval. Baffled, he opened his mouth to speak, “[Name], I–” 

“Don’t,” you sternly intervene, raising a hand to silence him. You then send a critical glance back at Alastor, forcibly pushing his arm off of you, “And you. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking of, pulling a stunt like this and using my vulnerability for your sick entertainment, but I expect you to apologise to Charlie and everyone else here for causing all this ruckus.” You ignored the way the radio-demon’s eyes rolled as you pushed through, stepping forward to grab Lucifer by the wrist, before dragging him along towards the staircase leading to your rooms. In doing so, you offer an apologetic look to your friends as you pass by the bar, who nodded back in silent understanding and awe.

The walk towards your shared room was painfully silent as the both of you dreaded the upcoming confrontation. As the number of your shared room came into view, you let go of Lucifer to wordlessly invite yourself inside. The King followed suit with hesitant steps, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Rubbing his arms self-consciously, his downcast eyes trailed up to you. You had plopped yourself down on the furthest side of the bed across the room, your back facing towards him and posture slumped over. Lucifer let out a shaky breath. 

“...[Name], darling. I’m sorry,” he starts softly, nervously squeezing his hands into fists, “I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin. It was–It was childish of me. I didn’t mean to upset you–“

“Y’know, you’ve got some nerve acting the way you did…” you suddenly cut in, voice surprisingly faint but filled with melancholy, “...acting all resentful and jealous towards Alastor–who mind you, was actually just taking me out for a walk–when you yourself still seem to be preoccupied with your ex.” Lucifer grimaced at the venom laced in your tone. Ouch. Though it was deserving, he dejectedly thinks to himself. 

“[Name], please, I-I can explain everything. I didn’t mean for tonight to go the way it did,” Lucifer pleaded whilst staring at the back of your head. He didn’t know whether his sincerity was effectively making its way through to you.

“Then what were you planning?” You say sharply, your voice raising a bit, “I…Lucifer, just please tell me what’s going on. Just tell me the truth.” Your eyes started to blur as a sob threatened to escape your throat. “Because I’m tired of this. I-I’m so tired of feeling so insecure, confused and lost, and I...I-I don’t even know what you want from me anymore.” You hang your head down low, hugging yourself tightly as the tears begin to pour out uncontrollably, “If…if you’re planning on breaking up with me, just go ahead and say it! I-I don't want to be waddling 'round like some–some idiot, waiting for you to–”

“No. Wha–[Name], no. Don’t even go there.” Lucifer said incredulously, immediately marching towards your side of the bed. He kneels down in front of you, reaching out to grab at your shaking hands. “That’s not why I’m here, okay? It’s not even remotely close to what I have to say. So please get that idea out of your head,” he reaffirms, while rubbing his thumbs against your hands in a reassuring manner. You decided to keep your gaze down, having no strength to look Lucifer in the eye, knowing fully well that you’d break even more if you were to do so. Your tiny gasps and hiccups were what filled the room, tearing the King’s heart bit by bit, with every second that passed. With no words spoken on your behalf, Lucifer took this as a cue to continue. 

“[Name]…I’m sorry for upsetting you. That’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. I-I know I’ve got a lot of baggage, and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for making you carry that burden with me. I…I did a lot of thinking during our time apart, and it made me realise how much of a fool I was–of how blind I was to what was in front of me. I took for granted your love and kindness. I-It wasn’t fair to you, and you didn’t deserve that. I-I truly didn't know what I was thinking, continuing to wear that ring. I came to terms and knew deep down for so long, even before we got together, that there wasn’t a possibility that Lilith and I would ever get together again. And yes, I do love Lilith. She’s been with me since the beginning of time and for most of eternity, and is the mother of my only child. Perhaps it was the memories that we shared that kept me hanging on for so long, I thought. She didn’t do anything wrong by me either…we just…sort of grew apart after a while. I-I don’t know why, but regardless…it hurt a lot. And even despite her absence now, I still do love her.” 

At that, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. His words were like a harsh punch to the gut. It was nauseating, and the room felt like it was caving in on you. Devastated, you attempted to pull yourself away to leave the room, but was forced to still as Lucifer reached up to cup a hand over your dampened cheek. He gently tugs your face upward, his eyes softening and staring deep into your crestfallen, reddened ones. 

“But darling, it’s not the same anymore. It’s different now. And it’s because you changed that. Yes, Lilith will continue to be an important person in my life, there’s no doubt about it. But…it’s you, darling. I choose you. You mended and opened up my heart when I was a hundred-percent certain that I couldn’t for another soul again. Each second and moment I spent with you made me become so hopeful and excited for the future and whatever lies ahead of us. Alongside Charlie, you've made me the happiest I’ve ever been in so, so long. And it’s you who fortunately gave me a second chance in this life. I'm so grateful for you, and words can’t even express how much you mean to me. A-And I’m sorry it took a while for me to realise that, and for hurting you in the process.” Eyes closing, he leans in to press his forehead against yours.

“And yes, it might take a bit more time to put this all behind me, and I-I apologise. But…I’m finally ready to take that leap with you. My heart is yours for the taking–as long as you’ll have me, that is. And I-I don’t expect you to forgive me now–I wouldn’t even forgive myself either. But, if it’s space that you want and need, I’ll respect that. But just know that I love you. And I’m sorry if I made it seem that I don’t, or don’t  show it enough. But believe me…I love you. I love you so damn much.” 

The sincere confession left you speechless, feeling yourself practically melt into his hands like pudding. A sensation akin to relief crashed over you like a wave, finally hearing the words that you longed for, for over a week. With a broken sigh, you cupped a hand over his own, leaning in to bask in his touch. Your breath then hitched at the realisation that he had taken off his wedding ring, no longer feeling the cold metal against your skin – it was only his warmth alone that welcomed you. Your chest suddenly felt immensely full, overwhelmed by his love and affection, but also by the guilt that came for your previous words and actions that night. Your furrowed your brows, your tears clouding your vision once more,  “Luci, I…I’m so sorry. I-I’m sorry for pushing you too much. I was being too selfish a-and I didn’t even stop to think about how you felt. I-I should’ve been more understanding and–” 

Lucifer was quick to hush you, wiping your tears and shaking his head. “Darling, no. There’s no need for you to apologise, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one in the wrong. And if anything, I needed that push.” He then leans in to press a lingering smooch on your forehead, “But I truly mean it when I say it, though. I do really love you. Being without you these past few days drove me insane–it’s crazy how much of an effect you have on me.” He tearfully chuckles. 

A smile made its way up to your quivering lips, a blush dusting your cheeks from the sweet remark, “I love you too, Luci.”  

Despite the wide grin that erupted on his face, it was humbled down by a tentative guise. “...Are we going to be okay?” He quietly asks, his eyes peering up at you in a hopeful manner. Your eyes softened at his uncertainty. Sniffling, you reach out and pull him into a hug, your face huddled into the crook of his neck. Lucifer was quick to return the gesture, holding you close and breathing in your comforting scent. Mumbling a response into his neck, you say something incomprehensible, causing the man to chuckle softly into your hair. “Come on. Use your words, love,” he teased against your ear. You giggled, all the while nodding your head, “Y-Yeah…we’ll be okay.” 

At that, Lucifer gently slowly pulled away, before leaning in to close the distance between you, pressing his lips against yours. The King inhaled your whimpers as the kiss grew increasingly sensual and near-desperate, his hands beginning to wander down your waist. Lucifer then stood up from the ground, your lips remaining connected as he pushed you flat against the bed. Straddling your hips between his legs, his lips began to trail down your neck, biting and pecking at your feverish skin, all the while dragging his hands up your sides to pin your hands beside either side of your head. "Luci, please," you whined, feeling his sharp teeth graze above your pulse. He slowly made his way back up to meet you once more, pushing his tongue inside your mouth.

Eventually, the both of you unwillingly parted for air, foreheads pressed together as you both took a brief moment to catch your breath. You both stared at each other lovingly, basking in each others' presence. “You’re perfect for me, my angel,” Lucifer whispers, softly pecking both your cheeks, your nose, then at your lips, “never forget that.” 

It was clear that the both of you had some work to do, there was no question about that. He wasn’t as perfect as he made out to be, but neither were you. But since you have each other’s company, and with your newfound reconnection, you both knew that things will eventually turn out okay. 

A/N: And that brings us to the very end! Thank you for reading and all the support you've shown for this mini-series! I'll now be focusing on requests~

[transformers-spike]

Human SO giving TFP Ratchet a well-deserved break. Doctor gotta update his knowledge on anatomy, right?

Get his ass

Hours of watching Ratchet slave away at his workstation have taken their toll. You walk up behind him, confident enough he won’t accidentally crush you after dealing with the hyperactive-likes of Miko. “Hey docbot!” you cry out waving an arm at him. He turns around just enough to acknowledge your presence, massive brow plates furrowed into a wide V. “You should really consider taking a break now, it’s been at least…” you tap your chin thoughtfully – “20 cycles since you started your uh…” you gesture at the massive mechanical mass on his desk, “the thing.” To his credit, despite being clearly exhausted, he tones down the annoyance in his voice when he tells you he’s fine. Right, fine and dandy, you think. You’re half considering shimmying up his leg to get to his massive workstation, look him in the eye and tell him to clock in for the night. But before you can so much as touch his leg, he moves away from you, kneeling down to save your sorry ass neck from developing early onset scoliosis. “I appreciate your concern,” he says matter-of-factly, “but our kind can operate without rest for a considerable amount of time.” You almost wait for him to add something about humans being unable to withstand the same sort of stuff after the two-days-and-a-half all-nighter he watched you pull fuelled up on nothing but coffee and spite. Still, you are a shameless being, and so you overlook the judgment of his optics and reel him back in.

“Nope,” you shake your head. “Not when everyone else takes time to recharge, and especially not when you’ve been neglecting your energon intake.” You’re unsure if he seems more proud than frustrated when you give him his usual “get some rest” speech. You offer his pede a “that’s final” pat as he takes the time to contemplate his next course of action. While staring right at the thingamajig on his desk… “Alright,” you say with your hands on your hips, “well if you don’t want to stop working, guess little old me’s going to keep all their human anatomy for themselves.” You hide the evident smugness in your voice with whininess. Said whininess rings out just loud enough in the (thankfully) empty bridge room for you to cringe inside. Cybertronians have thinner face plating compared to the rest of their frames, which gives the energon underneath just enough transparency to come to the surface in what you’ve come to describe as a blueberry blue blush. Holy shit, you think. Did my lack of game actually work? “I won’t let you impale yourself on my spike,” he states with the finality of a death throw executioner. “I know I know,” you mumble sheepishly, “but what do you say?” You flash him a smile promising mischief. He gives you a final once over, ex-vents loud enough to have the noise reverberate in your ears, and gently offers you a hand to climb on.

Back in his berthroom, you grind against his interface panel with enough force to fuck up your zipper. Another pair of jeans ruined in this economy to Ratchet’s bemusement, even if he hides it under a good-natured scowl. “Well shit,” you say, proceeding to remove your pants and everything else on your person in the sexiest manner you can strip, which probably looks more like a headless chicken wrestling with the clothes it evidently shouldn’t be wearing. Not that Ratchet minds. His optics trail from the curvature of your neck to the moles and odd freckles bespeckling your chest before receding down to the stretch marks across your stomach and hips. As odd as it feels having someone – an alien lifeform no less – taking in the many flaws of your body, you feel no judgment emanating from him. You would assume the interest he has in your shape is aesthetic in a scientific manner, like a botanist observing the upturned petals of a newly discovered species – but the softness of his gaze indicates much more than that.

You don’t flinch when he reaches out an exploratory digit to stroke your skin – heck, you turn around and give him 360 access to everything he wants, completely unabashed by your own nakedness. Glancing over your shoulder, you can almost hear the anatomical jargon in his head as he traces a finger over your trapezius.

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking mental notes again.”

“My processor is resting just fine,” he responds. You’re halfway through calling him a liar when he scoops you up with ease and brings you to his lips. The kiss is featherlight, tickling the nerves between your trapezius and latissimus dorsi. You let out a short sigh of content and crane your neck just enough to kiss him right on his nose-ish area. It feels much harder than the rest of his face, probably because it’s part of his helm. Eh, you’ll ask later, you’re already far enough with your one way ticket to fingertown. Right on cue, his eyelids flutter open, blue optics draping warm light over your naked and suddenly too cold body.

You hear the familiar whirring of his interface panel and you send him a look of incomparable excitement as you glance from his rapidly pressurizing spike to his flushed face.

“Can I?” you ask like a child at an ax throwing competition. His vents flip to their third setting, but he nods cautiously.

Mass displacement, for all the three hour and a half explanation he gave you, may be completely off the table with team Prime’s worrying level of energon, but at this point you’re too excited to care.

He sets you down in his lap, close enough for you to finally get a good up close and personal look at his spike. Fuck human flashing, this thing literally glows with blue biolights, grey and metallic with the same orange accents of his frame. If you had any brain cells left, you’d be tempted to ask him if Cybertronians can cosmetically change the paint of their spikes. Sadly, you’re too busy ogling at his valve to care.

You crawl over to it and lean down to look into its upside down vastness like a cave explorer. Not a second later, your 300 IQ brain considers shoving your entire arm up his valve, if only to prove you can be just as good if not better than a Cybertronian in the berthroom (human ego and all). Just as fast as the thought appears, you’re now batting it away reminding yourself it’s too risky considering its piston mechanism. If it can take a 7 foot tall metal dick, you don’t want to find out how easily those walls can close around you and shatter your radius, ulna and humerus, and possibly turn your muscles into organic mush.

Oh shit. Naked and bent over like this he’s definitely gotten a good look at the entirety of your wiggling genitals while you were exploring his open interface panels. Quite the gentleman (and pervert you assume), he hasn’t mentioned your – ahem, situation until now.

Taking it in stride with overinflated confidence, you send a wink his way and immediately shove the tip of his spike into your mouth. If your jaw’s aching is anything to go by, going deep is most unwise – but Ratchet’s startled moan is all you need to go down another inch.

Whatever meager trust you’ve instilled in him is your one way to make your giant robot boyfriend overload so hard it cures his resting bitch face. You throw yourself into your work, mandibles threatening to give out as you bob your head up and down not even half of his spike tip.

“That’s enough,” he calls out, struggling to regain cognizance from the sound of his strained vocalizer.

His warning means well, but at this point you’ve sacrificed too much of your jaw to give up. You take your courage by the dick and go as far as you can without dislocating it, breath cut short by his sheer girth.

This, for all its meager worth, is just what he needs. Your remaining brain cell has enough foresight to constrict your larynx when his transfluid shoots down your throat.

“Spit it out!” he cries out like an underpaid teacher watching a student shove the class pet into their mouth. “You don’t know what it could do to your biology!”

You cough and sputter, but it’s too late, you’ve swallowed it whole. You turn to meet Ratchet who’s looking at you like he’s about to turn into an ambulance and cart you off to the hospital with June on speed dial.

“Hopefully get me pregnant,” you say with a wink, batting your eyelashes at the docbot.

[windser]

thinking about being the non-mc, just sylus pretty princess with no real combative experience. because why would you need it when the n109 zone lifeline was practically intertwined with his own. so no you didn't really need to know how to shoot a gun, but that didn't make you curious. you knew about sylus collection. all about his secred closet of toys of mass destruction.

for the longest, that was his thing. tools he utilized to keep you safe. until the thought occured to you, what were you going to do to keep him safe?

even without asking aloud, you could hear sylus dry chuckle tickling your ear. kitten, if i ever went down, any threat to you would have been eliminated before i drew my last breath. which was scarily sweet to hear, except you hated to think about sylus drawing his last anything.

so you decided on a rather peaceful day, to request that it was now your turn to learn how to weld a gun.

lounged back on the couch, legs parted just enough to give you enough grounding to rest back again, sylus appeared to barely acknowledge your request. it was almost too easy to get lost in the way his face was relaxed against the afternoon sun, no doubt pulling lightly at the strings of sleep to off-set his late night activities.

your finger tips were just grazing his slackened lips, when you brought yourself back to your senses to probe him again. this time he gave you a bit more attention, one vermillion eye peering up at you with hinted bemusement.

always asking for more, hm? because at the end of the day, if it let your lips he would procure it. if only after a bit of teasing. this acceptance, didn't come without a longer look of consideration however as his large hands cupped your cheeks to draw you in until your foreheads touched. he stared at you with an indiscriminate look for a long time, almost long enough to think he'd take back his word before he breathed a slow sigh against your lips.

alright, let's sharpen your claws then.

and so after a few indulgent kisses, you managed to eventually nudge him off the couch, fighting his last dregs of delay. the two of you never needed to leave the estate, trailing down to the lower floors where the twins often escaped to practice.

it was your first time really exploring the area and curiousity roused with it. much more than you thought you harbored. to see you curious and animated over your lesson was foreign and it gave him pause him, but he set his jaw and answered your questions.

perhaps sylus had been waiting for you to eventually chicken out. let that blanket of shyness shroud you as you tucked yourself close to his side and asked to be taken back.

but that never came.

instead, you stood there with a sort of reverence on your face when he placed the gun into your hand, watching you handle it carefully, gently loading and unloading it until you could do it without his directions, your hands moving far more deftly than he would have liked.

watching you, sylus admitted to himself that your nervous naivety had started to relax him a little, your soft voice and innocent questions reminding him that any gun you held wouldn’t tarnish you , no matter how or why you shot it.

so he took more command and stood behind you with his chest against your back, guiding your hands into the correct grip and lifting your arms to just where they should be to hit the fresh target he'd set up after removing the old ones littered from the twins' sessions.

he was ready for the kickback from the shot rocked you back into his muscled frame, but you were not as you squealed in half surprise, half glee. he fought a smile, not noticing he was until you turned and shoved his arm, griping that you’d missed after the high of pulling the trigger had worn off.

guiding you the second time was easier for him, both of you less stiff as he slid his arms down yours, his voice low in your ear. urging you to breathe and take your time instead of a ‘point and shoot’, sylus fought the sudden need to press his lips to where your pulse thumped at your neck, instead letting you relax and shoot when you were ready. the edge of the second most inner ring bore a new breach from your well-placed shot, and syus truly grinned at your childish excitement.

but it didn’t take long for a very different kind of feeling to sink its teeth into sylus, and his eyes glazed over at the loosened tendrils of your hair and your flushed cheeks, trailing his gaze up and down you while you littered the flimsy paper target with sharpened aim.

sylus let you empty the gun of bullets and smirked at the empty clicking of the trigger that you continued to pull. glad he’d only taken a few rounds from inventory expecting you to lose interest rather quickly, sylus now wanted your lesson to end for a very different reason, snaking his arms around your waist, assuring you that there’d be plenty more lessons in your future as he gripped your chin and brought your lips to his.

[hy6erion]

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬-𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦-𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫.

<𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭>

Viktor had never considered himself particularly empathetic. He was observant, certainly—quick to recognize patterns, skilled at reading people—but emotional nuances often eluded him.

And yet, even he could see that you were struggling.

You did an admirable job of hiding it. If he weren’t paying attention, he might have missed it entirely. But Viktor was paying attention. Perhaps more than he should.

You smiled when you saw him, but it never quite reached your eyes. You filled the silence with easy conversation, but he could hear the strain in your voice. Your apartment was frustrating you, your days felt empty, and—though you hadn’t outright admitted it—you missed Harvey terribly.

The evidence was clear.

A solution was required.

And, after careful consideration, Viktor arrived at the only logical conclusion.

You should move in with him.

It was the most efficient course of action.

Your apartment was uninhabitable—clearly, the remodeling process was taking far longer than expected. Meanwhile, he had more than enough space for you. The transition would be seamless. You could be with Harvey again. You could rest. You would no longer have to endure long, lonely nights in an unfamiliar apartment.

There was no downside.

It was a perfectly rational decision.

Which was why Viktor found it frustrating that, for the first time in his life, he felt deeply uneasy about a perfectly rational decision.

Because the truth of the matter was this:

It was not just about logic.

It was not just about efficiency.

Viktor wanted you to move in.

He wanted to come home to you. He wanted to share quiet evenings with you and Harvey, to wake up to your sleepy murmurs in the morning. He wanted to see the space that had once been his alone become ours.

That thought alone should have been enough to stop him.

It wasn’t.

⸻

He Tells You His Plan:

Viktor found you at the lab, staring blankly at your communicator.

“Waiting for something?” he asked, voice laced with amusement.

You jolted, blinking up at him. “What?”

“Your device.” He nodded toward it. “You are staring at it rather intently.”

You huffed, setting it down. “No, I was just… thinking.”

“Dangerous habit.”

You rolled your eyes. “Harvey hasn’t replied to my last message.”

Viktor quirked a brow. “You expect the cat to reply?”

You gave him a flat look. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

You sighed. “Viktor.”

Viktor smirked but took pity on you. “Harvey is well.”

You perked up instantly. “Yeah?”

“Yes. He has taken a particular liking to my desk.”

Your smile softened. “He likes to be close to the people he cares about.”

Something in Viktor’s chest clenched.

“Which brings me,” he said carefully, “to the reason I am here.”

You tilted your head. “Oh?”

“You should move in with me.”

There was a beat of silence.

Your brain seemed to short-circuit. “I should what?”

“Move in with me.” Viktor said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You are unhappy in your apartment. Your remodeling continues to be delayed. You miss Harvey. This is a practical solution.”

You stared at him, completely thrown.

“Practical,” you repeated slowly.

“Yes.”

Your mouth opened and closed.

Viktor waited.

You should say no.

You should say it was unnecessary.

You should say that you didn’t want to be a burden, that Viktor had already done so much for you, that you couldn’t possibly ask for more.

But.

You thought of the cold, impersonal walls of your temporary apartment. The silence. The loneliness.

You thought of Harvey curled up on Viktor’s lap, his little face peering at you through your communicator screen.

And you thought of Viktor himself—sharp-witted, infuriating Viktor, who had already made your heart a dangerous, fragile thing.

The idea of being close to him—of seeing him every morning, of existing beside him, with him—was intoxicating.

“…Are you sure?” you asked quietly.

Viktor’s gaze softened. “I would not have offered if I were not.”

You took a breath.

And then, finally— “…Okay.”

⸻

Moving In:

Viktor had expected you to bring the essentials. Clothes, toiletries, whatever small comforts you couldn’t go without.

He had not expected you to bring half a library.

“I did not realize,” he said dryly, watching you struggle with your bags, “that you were attempting to recreate your apartment within mine.”

You huffed, shoving a stack of books onto his desk. “I had to bring the important stuff.”

“Clearly.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

Viktor only smirked.

Harvey, meanwhile, had taken great delight in your arrival, immediately winding himself around your legs in a purring frenzy.

“There’s my boy,” you cooed, scooping him up and pressing kisses to the top of his head.

Viktor watched, expression unreadable.

It had been over a month since you’d been apart.

Had you always looked at Harvey like that? With such soft, unwavering affection?

Had you always had the ability to make a person—or a cat—feel like the most important thing in the world?

Viktor forced himself to look away.

This will be fine.

He could handle this.

⸻

The First Night:

The issue had been obvious from the start, but neither of you had spoken about it. Not when you packed your bags. Not when you arrived. Not when Viktor helped you settle in.

Now, standing in his bedroom, staring at the bed, you could no longer avoid it.

There was only one.

“I’ll take the couch,” you offered, shifting your weight awkwardly.

Viktor frowned. “That is absurd.”

You folded your arms. “Then you take the couch.”

He scoffed, unimpressed. “No.”

“Viktor—”

“It is my home. My bed. I will not let you exile yourself to the couch like some unwanted guest.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Then what do you suggest?”

Viktor hesitated. The answer was obvious, but acknowledging it felt like stepping onto dangerous ground.

“…We share,” he said at last.

You blinked. “We… what?”

“The bed is large enough,” he continued, keeping his voice carefully even. “It will not be an issue.”

Silence stretched between you.

You should say no. You should insist on the couch, insist that it would be weird, uncomfortable, unnecessary. But you didn’t. You only studied him, searching his face for something you couldn’t name.

���…Alright,” you said finally.

Viktor gave a short nod.

This was fine.

It was just sleeping.

Nothing would change.

(And yet, even as he turned away, he knew—everything already had.)

[alotofpockets]

Accidental | Leah Williamson x Chelsea!Reader

Summary: Where you accidentally injure your girlfriend.

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.1k

-----

A knock on your front door pulls you out of your focus on getting ready, you head to the door and open it. “Hi Lia, come in!” She enters your home and greets you with a hug. “I’ll be right back.” Back in your bedroom, you grab your training kit, and start changing. From the bathroom your girlfriend calls out for you, “Baby, I forgot to bring my clothes, can you please grab them for me?” You walk to her overnight bag, and pull out the Arsenal kit she packed. 

In the bathroom Leah is waiting for you in a towel. “Here you go, my love. Though, I do think it’s the wrong colour, because London will be blue tonight.” Playing for rivalry teams could have been hard on your relationship, but in your relationship it had never been a big deal, and you could joke about things like this without hurting each other’s feelings. “Ah, so you are colour blind then, because it will definitely be red.” She jokes back. You peck her lips, “I’ll head down and keep Lia company.”

The big rivalry between the teams, and between some of the players within the teams had also been the reason that the two of you kept your relationship private. Lia knew of course, as well as both your family’s, but not your other teammates or the public. You were both happy with that, and it had worked for you for the past year. 

When Leah got downstairs, she greeted her best friend with a hug. “Sorry to keep you waiting, y/n was trying to get me to wear a Chelsea kit.” The smirk on Leah’s face gave her away instantly. “That would have been so much better, I should do that next time!” The three of you share a laugh, before you have to head out. “See you at the stadium my love.” You kiss your girlfriend goodbye. “Good luck out there today!” You wave to the both of them and get into your car, while Leah and Lia get into Lia’s car. 

The London Derby was well underway, and Arsenal had taken a 2-1 lead. Both teams were fighting hard, which came with a number of free kicks for both teams. Every time you moved up the left flank, you were challenged by Katie McCabe, one of the Arsenal players you always had a tussle with on the field. Both of you were quite aggressive in your playing styles, so on the field it was like you were each other’s enemies. Things like this had also been taken into consideration when you and Leah had decided to keep your relationship private. Right now, your mind was fully focussed on getting past McCabe, but with a rough pull on your arm you were taken to the ground. You were frustrated with her move and wanted to get right into her face about it, but Guro anticipated you being angry, and was already standing between you and McCabe to hold you back. Katie got a yellow card, and Chelsea got a free kick from just outside of the penalty area. 

Lauren got in position to take the free kick, while you positioned yourself at the near post with Leah defending you. When the referee blew the whistle Lauren showed with her hands which one of the set pieces you had practised was the one she was going to deliver. She sent the ball flying in your direction, you jumped up and tried to turn your body mid air. Before your head connected with the ball, you felt your elbow crash into something, or rather someone. Your focus was off of the goal and the ball flew far over, as your girlfriend crashed to the ground from your arm hitting her in the face. “Are you alright?” You hold out your hand to help her up. “Yeah fine.” After helping her to her feet, you both run away from the goal again, like the rest of the players, but when Leah grabs her face, your hand is instantly on her back. “Are you sure you are okay, Lee?” Without answering you she falls to her knees and hands. You wave over the medics instantly, before you’re able to crouch down with her you feel a pair of hands push you backwards. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough, y/l/n?” Your eyes meet Katie’s angry one’s looking back at you, you raise your hands and back up, right now all that mattered was Leah’s well-being and fighting with her teammate wouldn’t help. Still you watched from a distance as the medical team was assessing her with the referee standing next to them. The referee signalled to the Arsenal staff that a substitution needed to be made, next she made her way to you, and gave you a yellow card. Usually you would fight it since it was accidental, but it was your girlfriend that was walked off of the pitch by the medics, and all you could think about was the fact that you had injured her.

Your focus was completely off the game, so it was to no surprise to you that you were subbed off soon after Leah was. You jogged to the sidelines where Maika was ready to come on for you, and gave her a quick hug before stepping off yourself. After taking your coat and your bottle from the staff, and shaking hands with the coaching staff and your teammates, you headed into the tunnel instead of taking a seat on the bench. 

Determined to find Leah, you made your way through the halls of Emirates Stadium. With your next turn you saw Lia sitting opposite a closed physio room, “How is she?” Lia shakes her head, “I don’t know, they’re still checking her out, I haven’t heard anything yet.” You start pacing the hallway instantly. “She walked here herself, I’m sure she is going to be okay.” It was like you didn’t even hear Lia. “Y/n, why don’t you sit down?” She said putting her hands on your shoulders. “No, I can’t.” Lia knew there was no changing your mind, so she let you be as she sat down herself again. After a couple more minutes of you pacing around the hallway another figure comes around the corner, checking on her teammate. You were so out of it that you hadn’t noticed the person coming closer until you were pushed against a wall. “Who gave you the right to be here?” It took you a moment to realise what was happening, Katie had you pushed against the wall by your shoulders. “Katie, get off of her.” Lia tried but to no avail, Katie was full of anger. “What are you doing here?” She spat in your face. You push her off you, “I am checking on Leah, what does it look like I’m doing?” A slight annoyance in your tone.

Lia tried to come between the two of you again, now that Katie wasn’t at your throat. “Katie, please calm down.” Katie shook her head. “She’s the reason Leah is in there, why are you on her side?” She didn’t wait for an answer from Lia and turned back to you. “Why don’t you go home and wait for an update on Leah when it gets posted online?” You finally had enough of Katie’s antics, and exploded. “Because she is my girlfriend, McCabe. I fucking injured my girlfriend, and you are being a piece of shit to me, which isn’t helping. So, please just shut up, I feel bad enough as it is.” Katie is taken back by your sudden outburst, and the information shared within. She looked over to Lia for confirmation, who simply nodded her way. “Well, shit.” The Irish woman said and took a step back and sat down in one of the chairs. 

You slide down against the wall, the interaction with Katie having one positive result, no more pacing the hallway for you. The three of you sit in silence, waiting for an update on Leah. When the medics come out they talk to Lia, but of course you and Katie hear them as well. A concussion, you gave your girlfriend a concussion. “Can we see her?” Lia asks. “Yes, just keep the volume down and don’t turn on the light.” She talks with the medics about the next steps, but you don’t hear them anymore. The words “She has a concussion.” Play over and over again in your mind. You were the reason that she would be out of the game for a couple of matches, what if she would hate you over it? 

Katie realised that you were struggling and moved your way. “I’m sorry for being an ass to you. Leah clearly means a lot to you, so I am sure that you do to her as well, and that means she is going to need you in there.” You let your eyes meet Katie’s, the anger you saw in them earlier, replaced by a softness you couldn’t place yet. She reached out her hand to help you up, “What do you say we go see her?” You let her help you up and follow Lia into the room. 

Leah’s eyes open slightly when the door opens, but she closes them as soon as the slightest bit of light enters the room. Katie quickly closes the door to keep the light from the hallway out. “Who’s there?” Lia starts by saying her name, Katie follows, and you follow them, “and y/n.” You could see Leah tense upon hearing that you and Katie were both there. “Relax love, she knows.” Her shoulders untense, and you walk to her side and grab her hand. “I am so sorry for hurting you.” Leah squeezes your hand, “It’s not your fault, it was an accident.”

The three of you sit in the room with Leah until the medics let you know that she can leave. You decided that Leah was going to stay with you during her recovery. Since Leah wasn’t feeling well, you didn’t feel comfortable driving her on your own, so Lia offered to drive the both of you back to your place. Katie offered to pick up some stuff at Leah’s place, and drive Lia back to get her car. With that plan in place, you headed home. Leah leaned into your side in the backseat, her head heavy and painful. 

After almost a week Leah was starting to feel better, light wasn’t bothering her as much anymore, and her headaches were less present. The first few days had been rough, her head was pounding, and she was very nauseous most of the day. Luckily her symptoms got less day by day. You didn’t have many visitors, because that would be too much for Leah, but Lia and Katie had come by to bring you supplies every now and then.

You drop your phone on the bed in frustration, not realising that Leah had woken up already. “Hey baby, what’s wrong?” Your chest felt thigh, you didn’t want her to worry about this as she had too much going on already. “Nothing love, it’s fine.” She knew you were trying to hide what was bothering you, so she grabbed your phone that was still laying open on the bed. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, the screen was filled with your Instagram notifications. Each one of them that she read worse than the other. People were sending hate your way for hurting Leah. “I am so sorry this is happening baby.” She pulled you closer to her and hugged you tight. “Why didn’t you say anything?” You shrug, “I didn’t want to bother you. You’ve had enough going on, I didn’t want to add to it.” She kisses your forehead. “You’ve been taking great care of me, but it’s okay if you need someone to take care of you too. I am always here for you, remember?” With a nod of your head you let her know that you know. 

“I have an idea, but you need to tell me if you’re okay with it, because if you aren’t that’s okay too. I am just so angry at the people sending these kinds of messages your way.” Leah told you your plan, and you let her know that you were okay for it.

----- leahwilliamsonn just posted to her story

-----

Of course the comments didn’t stop with that, but they lessened and were overruled by the nice comments people were sending both your ways now. The reasoning might not have been ideal, but you were both happy that you didn’t have to hide your relationship from the world anymore.

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[suzukiblu]

Day one of February’s second weekly WIP behind the cut; “mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon sighs, then dusts his hands off and eyes Croc’s unconscious body, debating how the fuck he’s supposed to handle this situation. Fuck knows where the cops are, and there’s already a bunch of civilians taking pics and shit of him, so he really doesn’t wanna wait for ‘em. Also, like, explaining why he committed aggravated assault on a giant crocodile dude to the cops does not sound like his favorite time anyway, especially Gotham cops. He technically does have an emergency comm on him, but it’s obviously not tuned into any of the local Bat-channels and he doesn’t really know if he’d be able to sync it up to ‘em. 

Admittedly, Alfred is like, half a block down the street with a cell phone and probably already told his boss literally everything that just happened, but still. 

Actually, speaking of Alfred . . .

Kon refocuses his hearing back towards the limo, and hears–

“Wowwwww,” Jon says from the backseat, sounding awed about . . . something–who knows what, given he’s like ten and Kon doesn’t even know the grown-ass version of him well enough to know what kind of shit the dude thinks is impressive–and Alfred makes a little “hm” sound. 

“Mr. Kent, I do hope you’ve got an ear out,” he says, which even if Kon didn’t would’ve caught his attention pretty quick. “The police have an estimated time of arrival at two and a half minutes, and they were informed to come equipped for Killer Croc. Please do retreat out of the public eye for now, though I’m sure Master Bruce would appreciate the consideration if you wouldn’t mind keeping a bit of an eye on the situation until they have Mr. Jones secured. We’ll rendezvous with you on Pearl Street in seven minutes.” 

There is literally no version of Bruce Wayne that has ever “appreciated” a single thing Kon has ever considered in his life, except maybe for that one weirdo in Hypertime who’d definitely just wanted a Robin that was bombproof this time, but whatever. Kon nods once, short and sharp, and then takes off with superspeed in the opposite direction from Croc and the fucked-up street, if not Super-speed. That he saves ‘til he ducks into a conveniently out-of-sight alley, shoves the security camera over the emergency exit in the back of it askew with his TTK, and then takes off straight up into the air too fast for human eyes to follow. 

He should’ve avoided tearing up the street like that, probably, even if Croc and his boys had already fucked it up pretty bad. Didn’t mean he needed to go making shit worse. He’s maybe a little stressed, but he fucking knows better. 

Ugh. 

Kon hangs out above the heavy gray smog and cloud cover, wishing there were some sun up here instead of just moonless night, and keeps one ear focused on Croc and the other half-paying attention to the limo, just in case. The cops do in fact show up in two and a half minutes, and by then Alfred’s already taken Jon and the limo most of the way to Pearl Street. Kon can hear Jon chattering excitedly about something and Alfred at least making some more little “hm” sounds in response, though he doesn’t focus in enough to eavesdrop. Rude, for one thing, and also a distraction he should be avoiding anyway. 

He waits around to make sure they get Croc locked up nice and secure in the heavy-duty restraints and armored truck they brought without him waking up and taking anyone’s head off or anything like that, and it goes surprisingly smoothly for Gotham, though the cops have a fuckin’ time of it getting Croc’s K.O.’ed ass into the back of the truck. Kon would be more concerned about the possibility of a head injury with the guy staying out for so long, but a quick X-ray glance already cleared him for at least the first-aid level basics, so like, it’s probably that weird “toxic mobility” thing Tim was talking about that time he was explaining Croc’s whole thing to him. Or–no, “tonic”, and “immobility”. Whatever, he just knows Croc usually stays out longer than a baseline human would and it’s not a concern. Just some weird side effect of his whole . . . everything, basically. 

This is not in any way his circus or even his monkeys, but hey, why not be the interdimensional version of neighborly? Like, just while he’s in the reality and all. Lend the local Bats a cup of sugar, metaphorically-speaking. Batman’s gonna bitch about him doing it and how he handled it the first second he sees him, obviously–even after Alfred asked him to do it, he’ll definitely bitch–but whatever. He wasn’t gonna let anybody get hurt just because Batman gets pissy when vigilantes without any Bat-branding exist in his territory. 

So yeah, he waits around.

[shizunitis]

How do you think Shen Qingqiu would be affected if he had Xin Mo?

holy fuck i've been thinking about this for months and now that i've been asked i'm kind of lost. anon i love you prepare for a whole lotta yapping

the question is vague enough to both give me room to fuck around and to not know what to focus on. so i'll go with trying to figure out what the chain of events would be, mostly. i'm very sleepy though. that should be taken into consideration.

xin mo uses its masters' trauma and psychological issues against them. which means we just have to take shen qingqiu's issues and ramp them up enough to see what that would do to him. how that change would present itself is highly dependent on how he comes upon xin mo, as well.

first off, what does he want? shen qingqiu wants, in no particular order: to survive, to have luo binghe by his side and safe, and to protect his sect from a wrathful luo binghe.

he dislikes violence but doesn't shy away from it when it's expected of him to be unmoved by it. he's a deeply curious person and likes theorising, cultivation, and feeling powerful and respected. he thinks of himself as a "faker" but is proud of his moral stances, especially when they differ from the original goods'.

his biggest frustration throughout the novel is the fact that he cannot protect luo binghe from the plot and all the suffering that would bring him, and that he is under the control of something so opposed to his own goals as the system.

let's say shen qingqiu were to fall into the abyss and find xin mo himself, and therefore the system's control of him would be weakened, as it was when binghe was down there. this would mean he didn't betray binghe, maybe even took his place. this has to happen because he figures out the system is his biggest obstacle, before he gets to xin mo, or else my whole thing falls apart. maybe shang qinghua plays a part in this, maybe not.

it doesn't matter much how, but if he doesn't come to this realisation at some point, he would not place his target on the system, nor would he get the courage to try to change things according to his own wishes.

so. abyss -> revenge on the system -> find xin mo -> cultivate with it -> get out of the abyss.

first off, the sect wouldn't stand for him using a clearly harmful (to both himself and the world around him) demonic sword, or any sort of demonic cultivation at all, so he'd have to hide it if he were to make his way back. paranoia and fear would probably change him into an overprotective person, someone who slowly becomes less careful about what he has to do in order to protect his people, especially when we factor in how he'd had to, for years, live under the control and supervision of the system.

there is also the problem of getting close to the protagonist again. if he were to make contact, the system would re-activate, and his attempt to kill it would be useless.

he'd draw himself away from the people he cares about so he could watch over them. he would study and try to use the sword to change things in his favour, with the right incentive. the harm brought to his cultivation by the sword would probably force him to become more secretive so he isn't discovered.

he would probably seclude himself away from cang qiong, binghe and most of the world. whether he goes into the demon realm or not doesn't matter. he would rely on only himself, unless he can get shang qinghua involved in his plans. i imagine shang qinghua would be opposed to it, not only because the system would be against it, but because shen qingqiu's death or pain would spell his own destruction (by luo binghe's hand) if he didn't try to stop it.

the threat of huan hua palace and people discovering binghe's true nature would probably allow for the sword to take advantage of him more and more as he uses it to fight against them. i don't think the opm would not go after luo binghe, especially with shen qingqiu out of the picture, so i'm imagining the old fuck would offer luo binghe some sort of help just to get him close. shen qingqiu wouldn't stand for it, and we know that as he gets more desperate, shen qingqiu tends toward pragmatism. he would do what needs to get done, i guess.

"stuck between a rock and a hard place" pretty much describes shen qingqiu in svsss. having that not be the system's fault, for once, would probably push him to the edge enough that he does something extremely stupid and turns the entire cultivation world against him in an attempt to protect binghe from the opm's influence.

i don't think he would go too far, outwardly. he would probably bring more harm unto himself with xin mo than binghe had, and would probably suffer more than anyone else involved. him being so tight-lipped about his own motivations would get him scorned and named a traitor to the human realm. he'd have shen jiu's reputation post-trial, maybe. he would become colder, lifeless, honed-in on his goals.

this was an extremely long-winded way of saying that shen yuan, corrupted by xin mo, would become a husk of his former self. i imagine a moment where he tries to be warm again, that whole fond teacher shtick, and would find himself horrified at how much of an act that is now, rather than acting cold and heartless. i think he'd have turned his caring into caring too much to the point of leaving himself behind.

i had a wip of shen yuan transmigrating into luo binghe and having to lean into xin mo's influence so that he could get luo binghe reinstated into his own body that i put on the shelf at some point. he ended up baiting people into trying to assassinate him, and used their sacrifice as a way to power some sort of revival technique.

shen yuan needs plausible deniability for every action he does, especially ones he sees as morally reprehensible. so. add that to the whole thing above and that's the bulk of it, i think. maybe. god please tell me i make sense i need a shizun headpat

[cottonlemonade]

Epitome Of Stealth

word count: 867 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: University AU!Tendou x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers

warnings: like one mildly suggestive line if you squint

request: fluffy, skipping lectures with crush Tendou

“You are a terrible influence.” Your supposed scolding lost considerably in weight when it was accompanied by barely suppressed giggling as Tendou pulled you through the corridor past many closed doors, behind one of which you should have been absorbing a whole bunch of knowledge right now.

But your friend seemed completely unbothered, even waved it off like it was the biggest compliment someone had paid him all week.

“You’re just saying that!”

It hadn’t taken a whole lot of persuasion to get you to skip the lecture. In fact, none at all as soon as the word pizza became involved.

“Maybe we should go back.”, you said, becoming suddenly unsure of your plans.

Tendou stopped, not letting go of your hand though, “But the pizza.”

“The pizza will still be there after the lecture.”

Thinking about this for a moment he then leaned in, his face only a pepperoni’s width from yours.

“Come on, the professor is always late. He won’t even notice we’re not there because he never has time to call for attendance. Plus-“, lowering his voice he said, rather seductively, “think about how much better it will taste with the spice of knowing you’re doing something you’re not supposed to. Imagine the long strings of hot cheese and the crust, crispy on the outside, fluffy and stuffed full of even more cheese on the inside.”

You started to blush but more so from the look in his eyes than anything else.

You gulped, then took the lead and he followed suit, obviously having the time of his life.

In the second long hallway, chattering voices could be heard up ahead and with the stealth and finesse of a seagull on a French fry heist, he pulled you behind a large pillar, raising a long slender finger to his lips. When you stifled a laugh he regarded you with a frown as if you really didn‘t take this situation as seriously as you should and moved his finger from his lips to yours. The touch sent tingles through your body and you became very aware of his cologne. You hoped he would be too wrapped up in his make-belief to notice the flush of your cheeks.

The small group of students walked passed, seemingly questioning the sanity of the very obvious, very visible couple.

Only when they rounded the corner did he let you go, leaving the warm print of his touch behind.

“I think we‘re safe.“, he said after pulling out his phone to use the camera to spy around the pillar if the coast was clear.

“You know, I think they didn‘t care. Or knew that we were supposed to be in a lecture right now.“

“You never know, little plum.“, he gave you a look of lofty confidence, “You never know where the foe has their eyes.“

“Oh, of course. You’re so right.“ Shaking your head, you followed him further down the corridor.

The front door came finally into view and you were just mentally crossing your fingers that he wouldn‘t let go of your hand once you made it outside. Then he stopped in his tracks and you bumped into him.

“What?“

You looked ahead to find whatever he spotted, then saw the professor whose lecture you were just skipping walking your way, head lowered to his phone.

With your heart pounding in your chest you yanked Tendou out of the way towards a door in an alcove that you thought would lead to a bathroom but it was a utility closet - and it was locked. For a split second, you debated whether to just stand still and hope he wouldn‘t notice you or create a diversion. And so you grabbed Tendou‘s collar and in one swift move pulled him down for a kiss.

Catching on quickly, his hands immediately came up to hold your waist. But they didn‘t stay there. Apparently not knowing where to keep them, his palms roamed over your back and up to your neck to hold you as close as he could. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, letting you take the lead in the kiss but gently squeezing your soft and squishy body all over as if he had to make sure you were really there. The preoccupied professor had hurried past long ago but you were still kissing. When you finally broke apart, Tendou leaned back into the corner you had him pushed up against, panting slightly. His eyes searched yours as he ran the tip of his tongue experimentally over his reddened lips.

“You think he saw us?“, you asked unnecessarily. You didn‘t know what else to say. The kiss had muddled your mind.

He shook his head.

“You okay?“

He nodded.

“So… uhm… pizza?“

He nodded again, his eyes flicking from yours down to your lips and up again, swallowing hard and trying to redirect his very determined blood flow back to his brain with thoughts of all the communal showers in high school.

Feeling silly if you wouldn‘t, you took his hand again to make your way out the building. He didn’t let go of you until he had to when the food arrived at your table.

a/n: request for @haikyu-mp4

I think this is the fastest I’ve ever written a request for you xD thank you for the prompt! hope you enjoy 🌟

[starlsen]

A Scar's Caress

Fem!Rook x Emmrich Volkarin ✶ Lots of fluff followed by smutty goodness ✶ NSFW ✶ 6.1k words

Read on AO3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It had been quite some time since the whole team had been able to gather at the dining table to enjoy a good meal together. Tonight, Lucanis had insisted that everyone make themselves available, because it had been far too long since any of them had taken a real break – especially Rook. She’d be the last one to admit she needed to take it slow, but was never one to turn down a plate of Lucanis’ signature paella, particularly when washed down with a glass of Antivan Red.

“That was amazing, Lucanis.” Harding sighed as she sat back in her chair, hands on her stomach. “I’m stuffed.”

“I told you to save room for dessert,” Lucanis said indignantly, hands on his hips. “I baked a pie.”

“Oh,” Her cheeks flushed. “Right. I knew that.” Lucanis raised a brow and she smiled sheepishly. “I’m not that stuffed.”

Rook’s mouth turned up with amusement as she cleared away the last of the plates and grabbed another bottle of wine, setting about topping up everyone’s drinks. Conversation had flowed easily throughout dinner as she and her companions exchanged stories, cracked jokes and enjoyed just… being. She felt lighter than she had in a while, finally able to set everything aside and pretend for just a couple of hours that nothing outside of these walls existed. That the weight of the world didn’t rest on the shoulders of everyone in this room.

“Thank you, darling.” Emmrich said as she poured more wine into his goblet, offering her a dazzling smile as she did so. She returned the gesture, affectionately brushing her knuckle under his chin before turning her attention to Taash and Davrin who, by all accounts, were now engaging in a heated debate about scars.

“That's nothing,” Taash snorted. “It's kinda precious, actually.”

“Precious?” Davrin repeated incredulously. “You think a scar I got from taking down a hurlock is precious?” Taash shrugged.

“Sure. Why not?” Davrin baulked at dragon hunter, before turning to Rook for support as she topped up his wine.

“Are you hearing this?”

Rook snorted. “Yes.” Davrin waited, brows raised.

“And?” He pressed when Rook didn't elaborate, and she pressed her lips together in an effort to suppress her amusement, shrugging casually.

“I'm with Taash on this one.” Taash smirked, folding their arms across their chest, and sat back in their seat.

“Told ya.” They said, and Davrin sighed heavily.

“Why are we talking about Davrin’s adorable scar, anyway?” Rook asked, setting the bottle down and returning to her seat beside Emmrich. The Grey Warden rolled his eyes.

“It’s the story that counts.” Taash said, turning back to Davrin. “Yes, it’s very cool that you took down a hurlock with a bunch of cracked ribs, or whatever. But the scar itself is…” They paused.

“Kind of pretty?” Rook offered, much to Davrin’s chagrin, and Taash snorted.

“Alright,” He said flatly, turning pointedly towards Rook. “I think it's time we ask our fearless leader.” Her friends snickered at the nickname they'd started throwing around within the last couple of weeks, to which Rook rolled her eyes as she brought her goblet to her lips. “I bet you’ve got some adorable stories of your own.” She arched her brow as she sipped her wine, and considered him for a moment.

“I think we should hear from Emmrich next,” She said, offering the man at her side a sweet smile, to which he chuckled and sat back in his chair.

“Oh, I don’t know,” He clasped his hands together in that way that made Rook’s heart soar. “I’m quite sure my scars don’t come with stories to rival the excitement of any of yours.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Professor.” Bellara said earnestly, her eyes shining. “All the things you’ve done in your career? I bet you have some amazing stories to share.”

“Well,” He mused. “There was an unfortunate mishap when I was a much younger, considerably less experienced necromancer.” He sighed, a note of nostalgia in his eyes. “You see, as members of the Mourn Watch, it is commonplace to raise skeletons in order to carry out work within the Grand Necropolis. And, being hungry for ambition and driven by my determination to prove my worth,” He balled his fists in front of himself to emphasise his words. “I attempted to raise a skeleton before I was ready.” Rook’s brows rose in surprise, though her lips curled into a smile.

“So what happened?” She asked, and he turned his gaze to her, smiling bashfully.

“Its coordination was frightfully misaligned.” He said, and Rook’s eyes widened as Emmrich placed a finger on his left pectoral, dragging a diagonal line across to his sternum. “Thankfully, I was able to get out of the way,” He paused and chuckled. “Well, mostly.”

“That’s a great story!” Bellara exclaimed. “I told you!”

“That’s so messed up.” Taash grumbled.

“Not bad.” Neve said, and Emmrich held his hands up.

“That’s it from me, I’m afraid.” Rook watched as he sat back in his chair and lifted his goblet to his lips, taking a sip of wine. His eyes met her own and her heart fluttered, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“That was pretty good,” Davrin said, pulling Rook’s attention away from Emmrich. “So I’m willing to bet, as a fellow necromancer, you have something good, too.” She shrugged nonchalantly, sitting back in her chair.

“I don’t know, almost getting axed by a skeleton sounds pretty hard to beat.” Emmrich tutted from her side and she flashed him a grin.

“Come on, Rook.” Lucanis said from across the table.

“Alright, alright,” She said, all eyes on her, and sighed. It wasn’t that she didn’t want them to know about her scars, necessarily; she supposed, more than anything, her hesitancy came from never having actually told another living soul about them. She’d never told anyone how she got them. Never let anyone see them.

“You don’t have to share, if you don’t want to.” Harding said, and Rook blinked, looking over to find her friend smiling, and tried not to think about the scar on her forehead – or how and why she got it, all those months ago.

“It’s okay,” Rook said and cleared her throat, sitting up a little straighter. “Much like my esteemed colleague here,” She gestured to Emmrich. “I also attempted magic far above my station when I was way too young and way too hot-headed to realise how stupid it was.” Emmrich scoffed, and their friends laughed. “No offence.” She added, touching his arm, to which he rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

“Alright.” Taash paused. “So… a spell went wrong, or what?”

“Something like that.”

“Where is it?” Davrin asked. “The scar, I mean.”

“Right here,” Rook said, pointing to her sternum. “All the way down to around… here.” She gestured down to below her knee. The table fell quiet, then, and she could feel Emmrich’s eyes burning into her. Taash let out a low whistle.

“Mierda,” Lucanis said quietly, and Rook shifted in her seat.

“Damn,” Davrin laughed, turning to Taash. “Now I see why you think mine are adorable.” Rook grinned as the others joined in his mirth.

“I stand by what I said.” Taash drawled, and laughter filled the dining table once more. “Who’s next?”

She was thankful for the diversion away from herself and knocked back the rest of her wine, all too aware of the man at her side, that his eyes were still fixed on her. She set down her cup and turned her attention to him to find him watching her thoughtfully, his brow slightly furrowed.

“What?” She asked, and he lowered his voice.

“I had no idea.” He said, glancing down at her body before bringing his gaze back to her own. “Darling, what happened?” She smiled, leaning in until her lips brushed the shell of his ear.

“Come to my room later and I’ll tell you,” She purred. “Maybe I’ll even show you.” She sat back in her chair and his brows shot up, eyes slightly wide, before clearing his throat and reaching for his wine once more. She flashed him a wicked grin and he chuckled, relaxing somewhat and shaking his head.

The truth was that while she’d dodged having to explain the details of the incident to her companions, she’d realised relatively quickly after meeting him that Emmrich was likely to be the only person she could share it with. He understood her in a way that nobody else could, and often seemed to know her better than she knew herself. And now, many months later, he was so much more than just a fellow necromancer, companion or friend. What they shared was… simply put, utterly magical, and they’d formed a bond that she knew could survive anything.

Not only that, but it had become increasingly difficult to ignore the way he made her feel, to ignore the all consuming desire that overwhelmed her senses whenever he was near – which was, incidentally, almost every single day. The alluring, dazzling and devastatingly charming gentleman had assured her they’d take things slow, to allow their relationship to progress organically; the only problem was that she wanted to take things further. Much, much further, and was confident that Emmrich was just as ready as she was.

There had been a handful of occasions in recent weeks in which she’d almost gone through with it, but as soon as it came to taking off her clothes, she’d freeze. She’d spent so much of her life hiding her scars that it felt alien to do otherwise. It had been almost a week since the last time she’d allowed herself to get carried away in the heat of the moment, driven by lust to throw caution to the wind; she’d been in his quarters and had become painfully aroused just listening to him read a passage from a book. She’d climbed into his lap, her kisses bruising and feverish, and he’d held her close and kissed her back with equal fervour, his broad hands roaming her body. Yes, Emmrich was definitely just as ready as she was.

And her scars were the only thing holding her back.

She’d remained wholly distracted for the rest of the evening, unable to think about anything other than getting Emmrich behind closed doors. And so, by the time they’d all decided to call it a night, she was all too happy to loop her arm through his and lead him away from the dining hall. She listened as he gushed over Lucanis’ skills in the kitchen, his appreciation for a delightful meal, and how exhilarating it was to share a story from his youth. As they reached the threshold of Emmrich’s quarters, he paused and turned to face her, a softness in his eyes as he took her hands in his own.

“Rook,” He said gently, and she hummed. “You know there is absolutely no pressure for our relationship to move forward, don’t you?” He ran his thumbs across her knuckles. “None whatsoever.” Gods, her heart ached with the affection she felt for him. She offered him a small smile and stepped into him, leaning up on the tips of her toes to press her lips to his. The kiss lingered for a few moments before she sank onto the balls of her feet and took a few steps backwards, towards her own quarters, letting go of his hands as she did so.

“Are you coming?” Is all she said, and after a moment, the corner of his lips turned up as he gestured for her to lead the way and followed in her stead. She tried to shake her nerves as she led him to her room, reminding herself how badly she wants, needs, this. She headed for the small meditation table before the expansive fish tank that filled the far wall, watching the candle flames flicker as Emmrich closed the doors behind them.

She listened to the steady, even stride of his approaching footsteps, and hovered a hand over the candles, the heat from the flames licking her fingertips. He was at her side, then, and she took another moment to admire the way the candles shone a fiery glow over her palm, the fish tank casting an icy blue hue across the back of her hand.

“I've never shared myself with anyone, not entirely.” She said into the peaceful calm of her room. “I've never known anyone that made me want to, y'know?” She pulled her hand away from the flames, turning to face where Emmrich stood, shoulders squared and hands clasped in front of himself, and nodded.

He was absolutely beautiful. The light of the fish tank cast his side in glorious aqua blue, his eyes appearing more green than hazel, contrasting with the warm shadows on his other side, candles all around them; and while dazzling was usually her go-to word to describe Emmrich, right now, it felt as though there were no words that would do him justice. His beauty, his kindness, his everything.

“But then I met you.” She said, and his eyes were so kind and earnest and caused an ache deep in her heart. “And those nights in the memorial gardens, you shared so much of yourself with me. Made me realise we were more alike than I ever realised.” His eyes dropped to the floor for just a moment, almost bashfully, the smallest smile tugging on his lips when he brought his gaze back to her own.

“You introduced me to your parents,” She continued. “You have no idea what that meant to me, Emmrich.” His eyes softened, chest rising as he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose. “You make me want to share everything with you.” He closed the space between them.

“If you are ready,” He said, tucking her long, lavender hair behind her pointed ears. “Then it would be an honour, my darling.” He brushed his knuckles along her jaw, and her throat tightened, her heart beating a little faster again. She leaned into his touch, lifting a hand to his chest, to the scar she now knew lay underneath. She glanced down at herself, then raised her chin to meet his gaze once more.

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours?” She hoped the playful tone in her words would take the edge off the nerves pooling in her gut, and Emmrich let out a breathy chuckle. He said nothing, at first; just smiled down at her, his eyes warm and safe and kind, always so kind. She raised her eyebrows just slightly, and then his lips were on her forehead in a gentle kiss.

“Very well.” He took a short step back from her as he unclipped the gold chain across his waistcoat, and Rook watched his fingers intently as they worked their way down, one button after the other. Watched as they pulled the waistcoat over his shoulders and set it down neatly on the chaise lounge. Watched as they unfastened his belt, the sound of leather sliding along soft calluses as it unwound from his hips. Watched as they slipped into luxurious red, unravelling the silken sash around his midriff. His usual gold cuff and leather glove were absent from his ensemble today, and she marvelled at how beautiful his hands really were; soft and warm and purposeful, bedecked in the finest jewellery.

She could watch those hands at work for an eternity.

As he unclasped the dainty skull pinning his collar together, she tugged at the bottom of his shirt, untucking it from his trousers, and his lips turned up slightly. Heat rose in her cheeks as he began unfastening the buttons of his shirt, slowly exposing his neck, clavicle, and sternum. She worked from the bottom until their fingers met, knuckles brushing, and she inhaled deeply through her nose as he slipped the shirt over his shoulders, revealing his broad chest, the gold bangles on his forearm chiming as he removed his shirt completely and dropped it on top of his other clothes.

Emmrich had always cut a very fine figure; his tailored clothes made no secret of his slender frame, but Rook hadn’t expected his shoulders, his chest, to be quite so broad. She followed the lines of his frame as it dipped in at his waist, his soft and slightly toned abdomen, and finally observed the scar running from his left pectoral to his sternum.

She brought her hands to his chest, tracing the line of the scar with her fingertips, and goosebumps flooded his skin under her featherlight touch. She hesitated for just a moment when he tensed, before he visibly relaxed and let out a breath. She could feel the heat crawling from her cheeks to the tips of her pointed ears as she touched him, her pulse racing, while he remained wholly still, hands once again clasped in his usual composure.

He was beautiful.

“Emmrich,” His name was barely above a whisper, and she finally looked up to meet his gaze, finding him watching her, a vulnerability in his eyes and something akin to uncertainty. She returned her attention to his chest and leaned in to press a soft, chaste kiss to his scar.

“I know that I am not exactly,” He paused, and she looked up at him. “Well, you know.” She tilted her head to the side and he huffed, his cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink as he averted his gaze. “I'm no Davrin or Lucanis, let's say.”

Her brows came together, then, and she reached for him, taking his cheek in her hand and gently bringing his gaze back to her own.

“Emmrich,” She said, taking one of his hands and lifting it to her chest. “Do you feel that?” He glanced down to where she was firmly holding his palm over her racing heart, his lips parting ever so slightly, and hazel met violet once more. She smiled.

“That's what you do to me.” She said, and he chuckled bashfully. Her smile widened to a toothy grin, and added, “Among other things.” Emmrich laughed heartily, then, the pink in his cheeks turning a little darker, and she giggled, feeling the familiar ache begin to stir between her legs.

“You are beautiful.” She said as their mirth eased, and his throat bobbed as she took his other hand to her chest, guiding his fingers to the buttons on her shirt. “I want you to see me, too.” She tugged the bottom of her shirt from where it had been tucked lazily into the waistband of her pants, before letting her arms return to her side.

“Are you sure, darling?” He asked, and she nodded, taking a breath to steady her racing heart. He held her gaze for a moment longer before leaning down to brush his lips over her temple, and began unfastening the buttons. She closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss, the flush in her cheeks deepening, and gazed up into gorgeous hazel when he pulled back.

Though her racing heart wasn't because of her desires for the man before her alone, or the anticipation of what she knew was going to happen tonight – no, her heart was racing because she was finally letting someone in. Because she finally felt safe enough, finally had the desire to be truly intimate with someone, finally wanted to show someone the reminder of just how close she had come to dying; a fact that had utterly terrified her and shamed her as a member of the Mourn Watch.

But after Emmrich had confided in her about his own fears, she’d realised she’d found a true companion in him. And now, bearing themselves to one another, she knew she’d found her twin flame, her soul’s calling, and at long last was ready. Truly ready.

His fingers had reached the bottom of her shirt and he paused. She nodded, and he slowly pushed her shirt over her shoulders and she let it fall to the floor, and his eyes dropped to her naked torso. Her heart was pounding by now, and Emmrich's lips parted, his eyes darting across the expanse of her scars. Her breaths came a little shorter, a little faster, and she inhaled deeply through her nose and let it out slowly, willing her heart to slow down, willing for him to say something.

He lifted his hands, and she held her breath as he gently brushed her hair back over her shoulders, letting the long, lavender locks cascade down her back, and stepped back slightly.

“It was lightning magic,” She said, and Emmrich glanced at her before returning his gaze to her abdomen. “I mean-” She snorted nervously and gestured to them. “Obviously.” He reached for her, trailing his fingers over the lines branching across her body, disappearing underneath her pants.

The magic had entered her body just below her hip, the lightning forking up and down as it surged and left scorched skin in its wake. Jagged lines spread up and around her ribs, across her abdomen to her sternum and breasts; it branched down her thigh, coiling itself around her leg to her shin. The scars remained a deep, dusky pink, though they had healed many years ago.

“Rook,” He said quietly, his brow pinched together. She took a breath.

“They run almost the entire length of my body,” She said, and with trembling fingers, reached for the button on her pants. He placed his hands over her own, halting her, and swallowed hard when he knelt before her; he unfastened the button, pulled down the zip, and carefully tugged them down her thighs. She held onto his shoulders as she lifted one leg at a time so he could remove her pants completely, leaving her clad only in her undergarments.

He remained on his knees, his eyes roaming her body as he asked, “What happened?”

“The magic was beyond my abilities at the time,” She said. “I was tired of being told I wasn’t ready, that I couldn’t do it. I was so sure they were wrong, that I could prove them wrong, so…” She sighed. “I performed the spell in my quarters and I couldn’t contain it. I struck myself by accident.” She paused as her voice wavered. “And, uh,” She cleared her throat, blinking away the tears in her eyes. “It almost killed me.”

Emmrich's eyes shot up, then, and she could feel his gaze burning into her as she focused on the candles across the room, willing herself to calm, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“I was terrified.” She admitted. “And I couldn’t tell anyone because what good is a necromancer whose greatest fear is dying?” Emmrich sighed, and she looked down at him, his brows drawn and such sadness in his eyes. She brushed her knuckles along his cheek. “But then… I met you.”

“Darling,” He said gently, so agonisingly gently, as he leaned into her touch. “I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn't,” She said. “Nobody does. I've never…” She trailed off, and he tilted his head to the side.

“You've never told anyone?” He asked, and she shook her head.

“No,” She said, and his frown deepened slightly, before lowering his gaze once more to her scars. Then, he leaned in, and she inhaled sharply when he pressed a kiss to her abdomen.

“They are beautiful, Rook.” He said firmly, and placed another kiss on her hip. “You are beautiful.”

Her cheeks were blazing now, and she chuckled, threading her fingers through his hair.

“Oh, I don't know about that.” She said, and he looked up at her, his expression entirely too serious, and rose to his feet once more. She almost shrank back from the intensity of his gaze, and he took her face in his hands, cradling her jaw, his touch so tender she could have cried.

“I see you.” He said, and she swallowed hard as her throat tightened, tears threatening to fill her glistening eyes. “You are the most beautiful young woman I have ever laid my eyes upon,” He spoke so gently, so earnestly, and she sighed as she leaned into his touch.

“And,” He added, leaning in to brush his lips over hers. “There are none in this world more fortunate than I.”

She had never truly grasped what it could mean to be swept off her feet, but when his mouth met hers in a kiss so dizzying that it stole her breath and left her knees unsteady beneath her, she wondered if this was what it felt like. Her eyes slipped shut as she melted into him, chest-to-chest, their hearts beating wildly as one, hands cradling each other’s faces as though they couldn’t be close enough.

Lips fused in a slow, tender kiss, they moved back towards the chaise lounge. Rook reached blindly for the frame as Emmrich set a knee on the seat, sliding a hand down to her waist and around the small of her back as she found purchase at last and laid back, his body warm as he settled between her legs and leaned over her.

He trailed his lips along her jaw and down the length of her neck, his kisses gentle and unhurried and Gods, she was breathless as he reached her collarbone. The warmth of his breath left her skin tingling as his lips caressed her breast, then her sternum, and her heart all but soared out of her chest upon realising that he was slowly, and very deliberately, tracing the branches of her scars.

She couldn’t look away. Her chest rose and fell, watching as he took his time, eyes roaming across her skin, as though he was taking such care of where to place his lips next, worshipping her body with his mouth. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, sighing softly through parted lips as he kissed her stomach, then paused as he glanced down at her undergarments. His gaze met her own in silent question, his eyes softening when her answer came in the form of a single nod, and sat back on his knees as she lifted her hips to allow him to remove her underwear.

She blushed furiously when the corner of his mouth tugged into a deeply alluring smile, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her stomach, then her hip, before shifting further back on the seat and nuzzling the inside of her thigh with his nose, his lips barely brushing her skin, his eyes fixed on her own. By the Gods, the darkness in his lustful gaze sent a thrill running straight through her. He tucked his shoulders under her thighs, running his hands along her hips, and she gasped when he dipped between her legs and ran the flat of his tongue over her slit.

It was as though every nerve ending in her body was centred entirely within her sex, a feeling she could have only ever dreamed of; Emmrich worked his lips and tongue like a man starved, leaving her thighs trembling, chest tightening, toes curling. Every cell in her body was on fire, arousal pulsing through her, and she was breathless as she tipped her head back, her senses overwhelmed because his tongue, Gods, his tongue; warm and wet, gliding through her soaking folds, over and over, yes, yes-

“Emmrich,” She moaned, arching her back, and he slid a jewelled hand from her hip to her abdomen, his palm flat against her skin. She wasn’t going to last, not like this, the familiar feeling already beginning to swell deep within her core. She clutched his hand tightly, writhing against him, and cried out when he planted his mouth over her clit and began gently sucking, expertly rolling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He groaned into her sex, the sound vibrating through her as he gripped her fingers that were closed over his own. She ached for release, was ready to beg for it, when the pressure building between her legs erupted with a final sweep of his tongue and she gasped sharply, her mouth falling open, her entire body tensing and trembling as her orgasm sent lightning surging from her core.

He slowed his tongue to gentle rolls as she rode out her high, his eyes fixed on her writhing body, marvelling at the way she moved and how utterly breathtaking she truly was - especially like this. Her moans gave way to breathy whimpers as her grip on his hand slackened, and with a satisfied chuckle, he turned to press his lips to the inside of her thigh and shifted to lean his forearms either side of her hips. He watched her chest rise and fall as she caught her breath and, admittedly feeling a touch smug, couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his mouth at the sight of her flushed cheeks.

“Are you alright, darling?” He asked. It was all she could do to nod, because she was infinitely better than alright; she’d never been made to feel the way he made her feel, had never experienced pleasure quite like that before, and certainly never dreamed Emmrich could do that with his mouth. She hummed when she felt his lips on her hip, trailing kisses along the forked branches of her scars across her abdomen and breasts.

“Amazing,” She sighed, and he huffed a laugh before his lips found her neck once more as he settled between her legs. Feeling his hardness pressing against her, she let out a breath and guided his face back to hers, pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss. She moaned as she tasted herself on his tongue, running her hands down his chest and already feeling so dizzy with the way he was kissing her, his lips moving so easily, so expertly, with her own. Her fingers found the waistband of his trousers, and she pulled back from the kiss just slightly as she tugged at them.

“Take these off.” She whispered against his lips, and he nuzzled her nose with his own before nodding, brushing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth and making quick work of kicking off his boots and removing the last of his clothing. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach as their eyes met and he leaned over her once more, hooking an arm underneath her shoulder to slide his fingers along her neck, threading them in her hair, gripping her thigh around his waist with the other.

She cradled his jaw in her hands and stroked her thumbs across his cheeks, her heart racing and his eyes searched her own, seeking permission. She answered with a buck of her hips and he laughed breathlessly, the sound curling around her heart and spreading warmth through her chest. He turned into her hand to press a kiss to her palm, returning his gaze to hers for a moment before leaning his forehead against hers as he slowly pushed himself into her slick heat. She gasped, body tensing, her brows coming together as heat flooded to her cheeks because Gods, he felt amazing inside her.

His breath was hot on her lips as he waited, stroking her thigh with his thumb, hardly able to believe he was tangled up with her; Rook, the most courageous and dangerously breathtaking woman he’d ever known – and she wanted him. He pressed a sweet kiss to the tip of her nose, then her lips, and she relaxed, offering him a smile that could shatter the world as she nodded for him to keep going. Affection blossomed in his chest at the gesture, and he closed the space between them to press his lips to hers as he pulled his hips back and sank into her again, a low moan rumbling in the back of his throat.

And that sound drove her wild. She whimpered, parting her lips to kiss him again, and when his tongue swept in to caress her own, she moaned and wound her arms around his neck. He began rolling his hips into hers, his movements masterful, as though he'd spent an eternity making love to her. It felt so right. Their bodies fit together and moved perfectly, as one - and finally, for the first time in her life, Rook felt whole. Complete.

She broke the kiss to look into his eyes, her brow pinched and mouth open as she gasped with every delectable roll of his hips into hers. He'd never looked more beautiful than he did in that moment; pieces of his usually pristine hair hung over his forehead, his eyes dark with lust, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. A fire ignited within her, unfathomably powerful and burning exceptionally bright; she'd never felt this feeling before, but greeted it like a long lost piece of herself as she welcomed it - and Emmrich - into her heart.

“I love you,” She whispered, and something changed in his eyes, a recognition, an understanding, and he smiled; wide and bright and absolutely breathtaking.

He chuckled breathlessly and nuzzled her nose with his own as he said, “And I love you, my darling.”

She returned his smile, a joyous giggle escaping her lips, and gasped sharply when he thrust his hips into hers, harder now, and her eyes slipped shut as she tipped her head back and moaned. Emmrich buried his face in the crook of her neck, his moans low and deep, and she was sure it was the most beautiful and holy sound she'd ever heard. She wound her arms around his waist and up his back, her fingers digging into the skin below his shoulder blades, clinging desperately as a familiar feeling began coiling around her core, twisting and tightening and building and building, an intense pressure mounting, her entire body tensing and trembling.

“Emmrich,” She whimpered, and he removed his hand from where it had been buried in her hair to clutch the arm of the chaise lounge, gripping her thigh tightly with the other, practically growling into her neck as he drove his hips into her, harder, faster. She tightened around him, her mouth falling open and arched her back, the air forced from her lungs as her orgasm slammed into her with the staggering force of a hurricane. She gasped sharply into his shoulder, crying out and making a sound she was sure she'd never made before, and with that, Emmrich moaned loudly, his movements stuttering, thrusting hard and haphazardly as he came.

The pleasure was utterly blinding, her heart thundering and chest heaving, leaving her on the verge of feeling delirious. She pulled back to nudge his temple with her nose, words failing her, and he slowly lifted his face from her neck, eyes dazed and half-lidded. He glanced at her mouth before leaning down to kiss her, their breaths heavy as their lips parted and came together again, slowly and tenderly, as his hips slowed altogether.

She brought a hand from his back to cradle his cheek, and he pulled back just enough to find her gaze as she brushed her thumb over his top lip and smiled. He quickly returned the gesture, and she couldn’t help the giggle that followed, feeling utterly giddy for arguably the first time in her life. He chuckled, capturing her lips in a single, lingering kiss before pulling his hips back and all but collapsing on her chest.

She brushed his hair back as he closed his eyes, absentmindedly trailing his fingers up and down the length of her arm with a contented hum. She wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, tangled up in each other until their breaths became slow and even, their hearts beating as one; but after a short while, she looked down at him and smiled as she continued to smooth back his hair.

“The dishevelled look rather suits you, y'know.” She said after a few moments, and he snorted.

“Never.” He said with a sigh. “A gentleman is anything but.” Rook grinned.

“I had no idea gentlemen could fuck like that.” She quipped, and Emmrich barked a laugh, shifting to look up at her as he leaned his forearms either side of her hips.

“Darling, I can do much more than that.” He said, his voice dangerously low. She bit her lip, her smile bright and wicked.

“Oh?” He hummed. “Tell me more.” She said, and his tongue darted over his bottom lip before he raised a brow.

“I'd rather show you, my dear.” She laughed, patting his shoulder and closed her eyes, lying her head back.

“Give me a few minutes and I'll be good to go.” Her smile remained as he chuckled, and she felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to the scars between her breasts.

“I may need slightly longer to recover.” He mused. “But I will gladly do this again,” He kissed further down her abdomen. “And again,” Another kiss. “And again.” She hummed happily.

“Sounds good to me.”