#yes this was made vague as to not make it obvious what it was

[bubybubsters]

Fruit Skewers, Laced Drinks, and the Whole Shabang

A/n: @tsunami-of-tears I AM YOUR SECRET SANTA!! ik crazy right! Anyway here’s your mix of angst, a lil bit of fun, and vague holiday spirit! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT LOL but it fine if u dont…

MERRY CHRISTMASSS or HAPPY SOLSTICE.

thank you @acotargiftexchange for hosting this lovely event.

word count: 2.1k

Eris POV

Most people don’t think of the spymaster of the Night Court as an avoidant person. In fact, when people do think of him it’s often when they’re committing a crime or sitting in shadows that look like they’re moving, or even seeing him on the street and finding him pretty.

Well Eris found the spymaster to be a very avoidant male. Yes, he was good looking and smart and the whole package. But Eris found he sucked and communicating. Not even in the normal way people sucked at communicating, in a way that he didn’t even try to talk about anything. All the spymaster did was kiss Eris’s weak spot until the heir gave in and stopped trying to make a half-decent conversation. 

Then again, Eris supposed one could defend Azriel’s actions. Considering their families, their past, the rejection of same sex relationships in the Autumn court, Beron, Morrigan, and every other little detail. 

However, none of that changed what had happened a few years ago at the solstice court meeting. The two of them had had a little too much to drink and got a little carried away. The night had ended with Azriel in Eris’s bed and the morning after the cold air from a very open balcony window had greeted Eris the moment he woke up. 

And still, a decade later, they hadn’t said a word about it. What they had done was fuck so much that Eris had found more new kinks he didn’t know about in ten years than he’d found in a century.

“What in the cauldren has you sighing every few seconds?” Eris blinked, his mother’s voice pulling him from his thoughts. Shit, he was still in the dining room eating dinner with his mother. Well, she was eating; his food was untouched.

“Sorry.” 

“What’s up with you?”

“Noth-.” He was cut off by a single raised brow that spoke volumes. “It's a romantic problem…”

His mother smiled. “With the shadowsinger, yes?”

Eris grunted in confirmation, choosing to not question how she knew about his so-called “relationship.”

“What’s wrong? Obvious problems excluded, of course.” Her words dragged a bitter smile to his lips as he thought of what he should say. He could tell her the truth and simultaneously put her in danger if anyone found out. Or he could lie. The fact that the choice he made came so easily concerned him to no end.

“He won’t talk unless it relates to court problems. All he wants to do when we’re alone is have sex.”

His mother grinned. “I never thought I’d see the day you complained about too much sex. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Eris grumbled something unintelligible and rolled his eyes.

“In all seriousness, find a time and place to talk. One where it’s too public to do anything but it’s just private enough to have a conversation. Also you need a reason he can’t leave. For example, if Rhysand assigned him to stay by your side and make sure you don’t do anything stupid. The best chance you’ll get to do this is at the annual solstice high lord meeting. Since everyone knows Beron won’t want to come considering it’s basically just a party… You’ll have to go in his stead and someone from each court will likely be watching you because nobody trusts the autumn court.“

Eris raised his hand, trying to stop the flow of information. “Perhaps, write it down?”

His mother chuckled. “Y’know I’m actually preparing you for your high lord duties. You really can’t be seen taking notes during a high lord meeting; it shows weakness.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Stop teasing, we both know Beron doesn’t remember shit. He just does whatever he wants.”

“Yes, but you wish to be a better High Lord than him. Can’t do that if you copy him.”

“Well since I’ll be such a better high lord than Beron, it won’t be considered weak to take notes.”

His mother shook her head, a smile dancing on her lips.“I’ll write it down, but you just need to trust yourself.”

Eris said nothing. He knew he couldn’t trust himself around Azriel. It always led to him giving into the spymaster’s whim.

Az POV

“OY AZRIELLL!!”

He barely refrained from groaning as Cassian pulled the curtains aside and sunlight came streaming in.

“Go away.”

“BUT TODAY’S THE PARTYYYY!! YOU AGREED TO LET FEYRE, NESTA, AND ELAIN DRESS YOU UP IF YOU LOST AT CHESS. AND YOU LOSTTTTT!!”

“Because you all cheated.”

“You never said we couldn’t!” Cassian is practically singing as he dances around Azriel’s bed, trying to prod him awake.

Azriel groaned. “I’ll be up in 30. Now get out.”

Cassian pouted but ultimately decided to leave before Azriel could change his mind and argue that he would have won if they hadn’t fed him too many bottles of Rhysand’s expensive wine and cheated. 

Fifteen minutes later, Azriel warily dragged himself from bed. Normally, he would be fine, in fact he could be a morning bird. But all the wine he’d drank last night seemed to have caused a pounding headache that he doubted would get better.

He took a quick shower and dressed in casual black clothes before heading out. On his way to the River House he grabbed a pastry and jumped off a random balcony.

Letting himself freefall, Azriel’s thoughts wandered to forbidden territory. Eris would be at the party tonight. The fireling’s scent was ingrained in Azriel’s mind- smoke and crisp autumn leaves. 

Azriel sighed. He knew Eris wanted to talk, it was devastatingly obvious. The hurt that flashed in those amber eyes whenever Azriel brushed him off seemed an ever prominent companion in his day to day life. But it just wouldn’t work. Eris was going to be High Lord and Azriel was… well Azriel.

“He’s here!”

His high lady’s voice floated through the air, effectively cutting his thoughts short. He landed and glowered at Cassian.

“The party is at 8 in the evening.”

“Yes and?”

“It does not take twelve hours to get me ready.

Feyre cut in, “Of course it doesn’t. But do you really think we have things prepared? This bet was last minute and made drunkenly at around two am.”

“All the more reason we should agree to not do it.”

“Nope! Just an excuse to go shopping.”

Azriel groaned but a slight smile played on his lips, maybe he could use this distraction from Eris.

Eris POV

At precisely 8pm Eris and his advisors winnowed to the dawn court. Ever since that High Lord meeting during the war, the dawn court had been all the high lords preferred spot to meet. Eris wasn’t sure why but it was fine with him, just as long as nobody was in his court. 

They were greeted by a female that showed them to a dimly lit ballroom. Most of the other High Lord’s were already mingling and Eris spotted Vivian, Mor and Feyre. Azriel’s probably here then. Good.

Eris sighed, dismissing his advisors and heading for the food table. Picking up a skewer of grapefruit and some unidentified berries, Eris dove in. One could argue the only reason he came to these parties was for the food. More often than not, his first thought was complaining about the autumn court food. It wasn’t bad, in fact, Eris loved the spices and bold flavors, but after a few centuries, you occasionally long for something else.

Something refreshing. 

A light touch to his thigh urged him to pause his munching and look down. One if Azriel’s shadows was curled around his leg, seemingly looking up at him with puppy eyes. 

Eris suppressed a smile and looked around to find the shadowsinger already watching him from a dark corner. He did a double take, blinking in disbelief at what he saw. Azriel, the feared spymaster of the night court was wearing a light blue t-shirt and loose, frilly, white pants. And he looked good. Eris hesitated, grabbed another fruit skewer and headed his way.

“Fireling,” Azriel greeted, plucking the extra fruit skewer from his hand.

Eris made a sound of protest, mouth stuffed with food. “Was mine.” 

“You look like a toddler given access to his favorite candy store at these parties.”

Eris frowned, waving his hand, trying to get his rebuttal across without opening his mouth.

Azriel chuckled, biting into the stolen skewer. He groaned in satisfaction, gobbling down the rest of the skewer before Eris could finish his.

“What in the world are you wearing?”

“It was a bet.” Azriel waved his stick where fruit was seconds before. “These are good.”

“Did all that food just disappear?”

“It was good.”

“You’ve never had them before? These parties have been going on for a decade.”

“I’m usually too distracted by you.”

Eris chokes on his last piece of fruit. “Huh?”

Azriels lips twitched, “That wasn’t very heir like.” He tutts, wagging a finger. “The rumors seem to be true, you’re gonna be overthrown by a brother.”

Eris raises a brow. “Firstly, you cannot be talking, have you seen yourself in those clothes? Besides wouldn’t you miss me, beloved spymaster of the feared Night Court?” He leaned closer, lips almost brushing Azriel’s ear. “After all, you do seem to have taken a particular liking to me. Or shall I say, a liking to fu-”

Azriel clamped a hand over his mouth. “Not here,” he hisses.

“Where else then?” Eris sticks his tongue out, liking the scarred hand covering his mouth. “All you wanna do is fuck whenever we’re alone. So why not speak here? Your shadows can ensure nobody hears us.”

Azriel frowns. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Eris raises a brow as if to say, do tell. “We should stop.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s never going to work out and we don’t seem to have any special connection. It’s also a hassle since we’re from different courts and it really would be convenient for both of us if we stopped. Besides, if you really need pleasure that badly, there are some wonderful places across Prythian that could serve one’s needs.

Eris gawked at Azriel. His jaw was practically on the floor in shock and his body had gone slack. Azriel, the guy who never talked and always convinced Eris to fuck was the one calling off this ‘situantionship.’ Adding that the one time he did talk was to inform Eris of good pleasure houses. Well, sorry mother, guess you wrote that down for nothing.

“Right, like you weren’t the one practically leaping on me every time. But by all means, go ahead, end us. It’s not like anyone else will ever understand you like I do. And of course we aren’t mates because why would the mother put someone like you with someone like me.” Eris finishes his last sentence off with a growl, teeth bared.

Azriel’s brows twitch, “What is that supposed to mean? Am I not good enough for a future High Lord?”

Eris shakes his head, attempting to stop the sudden feeling of emptiness in his heart. He turned form the male and his bright clothes.

“Whatever Azriel. I’m done with you.”

Az POV

Okay, so he might have messed up. He’d basically called Eris not special and not worth the hassle. He’d also said he knew a lot of good pleasure houses, which wasn’t a lie, he did. But the male he’d been fucking for the past decade probably didn’t want to hear that, even though they hadn’t said they were exclusive. Not that that was an excuse. All in all, Azriel regretted everything. Especially since the moment the red-haired heir had left, a beautiful, deafening, snap, echoed in his ears. 

The other side of the bond was foggy which made Azriel assume Eris had absolutely no idea. Great. That was not helpful in his current position. What was he supposed to do? Go up to Eris and say, ‘by the way, we’re mates! Sorry for saying we have no special connection, could we reconcile?’

Azriel sighed, deciding to get a drink. He approached a rose-gold cup with a pink-tinged liquid inside. After sniffing it, he downed the drink in one gulp. The liquid fogged his head, making it hard to think. But it tasted good. Like the pumpkin spice lattes that Eris would sometimes give him. He hummed, going to grab another cup.

He stopped, a sudden realization settling in. He had taken the first cup, nobody else had drank one all night. He knew because Thesan always said that once a drink was out, it was out.  Azriel slowly looked up. People were watching him, eyes drilling into his skull. Shit. What the fuck was that drink?

‘Whatever Azriel. I’m done with you.’

Azriel’s head shot up. That was Eris’s voice, those were his words, his tone, his accent. It was Eris yet Eris wasn’t even in this room. 

What the fuck?

‘I’m done with you.’

Azriel hissed softly. This was bad. Hearing voices was a sure sign of 1. crazyiness, 2. in this case, a love potion, 3. being cursed. It was most likely the second option, which was definitely not ideal. 

A small crowd of onlookers gathered, seemingly waiting for a reaction.

Azriel’s shadows surrounded him, almost laughing at their master. He couldn’t even blame them if they took Eris’s side in this matter. Sure, Eris had said some horrible things but at the end of the day, Azriel was the one to start the whole situation to begin with. 

So he closed his eyes, and let his shadows control wherever he goes, just as long as it’s out of this damn room. 

The only thing?

He didn’t expect to land right on top of a half-asleep Eris Vanserra.

dividers by @saradika

lol idk i like it- I tried to leave an open ending…

[rapono-writes-stuff]

Excerpt from a fic I might end up not posting:

Mostly cuz it's a very simplified version of a plot brainworm I've had for the past few months, mixed with my lack of confidence in understanding the fandom source material. Also it's not even finished yet lol.

◇◇◇

The new stranger is familiar, and the hunter doesn't know why.

Tall, too tall, and blind, hair a stark white. Eyes always closed, and yet used their keen hearing to move as if they could see. Nothing about her was familiar, the hunter would've definitely remembered someone so vividly unordinary.

And yet, the song she often hummed scratched something familiar in the back of their mind, an undeniable feeling they'd heard it before. And for some reason, it made their guts twist with a terror they couldn't quite recall, a memory that refused to surface, but was undeniably there.

“Where'd you learn that song?”

They'd eventually been brave enough to ask, pretending they hadn't been putting off doing so, the stranger turning their head to face them, despite never opening their sightless eyes.

“…I can’t recall. Known it as long as I can remember.”

With that, they sung the beautiful tune once more, the mountains carrying their voice. The hunter stood and listened, as if the melody didn't strike them with prey-animal fear.

They dream of losing a hunt that night, but can’t recall what the monster they face looks like.

---

Today, the stranger approaches them first.

“What's troubling you little hunter? I can sense the tension in your limbs.”

They bite their tongue. They don’t want to admit the truth, make her stop singing, but they can’t find a lie.

“Your song is familiar, but I can’t recall why.”

Her posture stiffens, if only for a moment, a beat of silence unbroken. It feels a little too long, before her answer comes.

“Interesting. I wonder why.”

There's an old flatness to her tone, but the hunter doesn’t question it.

They notice she sings it less frequently around them after that, as if she knows the fear it brings. Only catching the tune in the distance, but quieting to silence as they grow close.

The hunter regrets their words, despite the fear it caused, they hadn't wanted this.

-----

The stranger has become a stranger no more. Still unusual, yes, but proving herself in the hunt, despite her lack of sight. A fellow hunter, a friend.

The song loses its bite, the tune becoming familiar for a new reason. Her voice is beautiful, and carries far, able to hear her from across the village on good day.

She no longer shies away when the hunter approaches, as they come to sit and listen.

-----

“Would you still fight alongside with me if I was a monster?”

The question catches the hunter off guard, an unusual question,

“Huh?”

She elaborates.

“If I was turned into a monster, would you hunt me?

Instinctually, a part of them pounces on a yes, of course. She would be a danger to them and everyone if such a horrible thing happened. And yet, they hesitate to answer, as a smaller, quieter voice is the one to break the silence, put the words on their tongue.

“…I don’t know.”

And it, unlike the first answer, feels more like the truth.

The former stranger smiles.

“I'd hope, at the very least, you'd hesitate.”

[magic-owl]

there is a CANON LESBIAN MAIN CHARACTER. has her storyline been totally perfect? no! it could be better! but she has a healthy and loving relationship that is fleshed out and explored and her identity is treated with respect and it matters so so much to the story and it would not be the same without her.

but here people go flinging around “queerbait” and “homophobia” like wet monkey poo because their fandom flagship ship isn’t canon come on you guys

[soyoursoulisgreen]

3, 4, 19, 20!

3. What ideas come from when you were little

I have two OCs that have really stood the test of time: Akane and Kin - though their names have changed over time haha ♪ They were the first ever queer couple I made, long long loooong before I was out even to myself and shock among shocks, they're angels lol ♥ I remember I even wrote a short story about them from like - middle school probably?? as part of an assignment haha. They've been with me for a loooong time, and I'm still very fond of them 💕

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

GLaDOS is so beautiful and I am so bad at drawing machine parts jfdklsasdf. I'm determined to draw her from both games now tho! Her design in Portal 1 is so weird!! <3

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

Plushies, no contest. Drawings the seams and darts and stitches and wear and fluff and fabric vs. fur I just ugh it's all so satisfying! The way the cloth folds over itself or stands firm on its own over well-stuffed filling! I love plushies!! Funny enough, I rarely use them as props tho haha - that's usually things like books, cups, pencils, etc.

20. Something everyone else finds hard to draw but you enjoy

I haven't heard the complaint in earnest in a while, just in a jokey fashion, but I really really enjoy drawing hands :) Hand expressions are so fun to me! They're just as expressive as faces - especially masked characters haha - and they're so versatile! Come in so many shapes, some hard, some rubberhose wiggly, some sharp and Shaped, but they still all emote similarly. Even just slight position changing can change the temperature of how it reads! It's a challenge for sure but it's just so satisfying >:3c

[nonasuch]

Miss Universe National Costume 2024, Part 2!

Splitting this off into a new post so I'm not clogging up everyone's dash quite as much.

Miss Malta is some sort of environmental protection Sailor Scout. I think the giant bow would look better on the back of the skirt but otherwise this is solid.

It has just come to my attention that I skipped over Miss Albania and several other A/B countries, back at the beginning. I sincerely apologize! She went to all this trouble putting together a Fifth Element cruise ship passenger costume, and I nearly missed it.

Miss Armenia, in what even I have to admit would be a legit Princess Leia fit.

Miss Bahrain, adding some green to her Gold And Vaguely Historical look, along with what is either a comically large prop chalice or an upside-down lamp.

Miss Bangladesh appears to believe that adding two plush tigers from the toy store around the corner from the pageant venue will conceal the fact that she is just wearing a tiger-print evening dress. Miss Bangladesh is incorrect.

Miss Belgium. Girl. No.

Miss Belize let the seventh-grade art class do her whole costume, which was a bold choice.

Okay, I think that's everyone I missed! Back to alphabetical order. And I should have to rely less on shitty screenshots, now. Some countries were benefiting from the low resolution, tbh.

Kind of feel like Miss Maldives had a luggage mishap and she's just wearing the outfit she packed for a slightly dressy dinner.

Miss Martinique's costume would honestly have looked better in the shitty screencap version. The construction is... bad. It's bad.

Feel like we're in a little bit of slump here. Miss Mauritius did not stick enough butterfly appliqués to her gown to conceal that it is, in fact, just a regular evening gown.

Slump officially over! We are so back. Everyone say thank you, Miss Mexico.

I would like this better if it had just committed to the giant skirt and not felt the need to make it a Sexy Miniskirt look. Sorry, Miss Moldova.

Miss Mongolia wanted to stand out from all the other gold armor on stage, so she decided to a) wear cooler armor and b) bring a bow and arrow instead of a sword. Great work, Miss Mongolia.

Starting to feel like I'm picking on the smaller countries that probably don't have a huge pageant culture or the budget for really elaborate costumes, but on the other hand Miss Montenegro's costume is super low-effort AND the fabrics look cheap, so what am I supposed to do?

Okay, this looks like a pretty standard Miss Universe Sexy Bird, yes? Well, THIS is how Miss Myanmar entered the stage:

She had to fight her way out of that thing! God only knows what the visibility was like in there.

I think the hat is doing most of the heavy lifting to keep Miss Namibia's costume from being Just An Evening Dress, sadly.

Oh, yikes. It's more obvious in motion but Miss Nepal's bodice looks like it's made of craft foam and it fits real weird. The rest of it looks a little like she got together with Miss Cyprus and a pile of tablecloths for a sewing bee last night, I'm sorry to say.

Miss Netherlands has chosen a Tribute to Delft. I think if I were in charge of this costume I would do a much fuller skirt that falls from the waist, instead of the weird trumpet-skirt-with-hoop we've got here. And, obviously, I would make the windmill on the bodice actually spin.

It looks like she's having some issues keeping the wings and peplum in place, but I really like Miss New Zealand's costume from a design perspective. It at least slightly resembles the bird it's supposed to be (New Zealand fantail) and I think the feather pattern is meant to be in a Maori art style.

Miss Nicaragua is a Sexy Cathedral, which I think might be a Miss Universe first and is definitely a big old step closer to drag.

Okay, pausing here to get the next batch ready.

[juletheghoul]

home

a/n: The premiere look was a literal gift from the Gods, truly fantastic stuff. With that said, of course I had to work on the next chapter of The General and his Girlwife. This isn't the end for them, there is still so much life for them and I have a whole inbox full of amazing asks (I promise I haven't forgotten about them!) to get through, and I always welcome any and all comments and questions or deep dives! Hope you enjoy 💕xo

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus eats pussy because he's a KING, lactation kink, creampie, Marcus gets emotional, pregnancy and baby stuff, childbirth and some graphic descriptions of pain, talks of infertility, **FEELINGS** let me know if I missed any!

This is the fic I referenced in this preview

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 5k (whoops!)

reblogs are appreciated

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The ritual had been completed, and a week later–life had gone back to normal. The two of you had vowed to put it out of your mind until the Gods made their intentions for you clear. 

Marcus, however, was leaving; he'd been called on by the Emperor for a tour, and he had no choice but to accept.

You pouted, and he smiled. 

“It is only for a short time, my love. Barely a moon's turn and I will be back in this house, and your arms.” He smiled despite your obvious displeasure, giddy with the way you clutched so greedily at him. 

“I wish to follow you Marcus, I do not wish to stay here without you.” You buried your face into his neck, taking in his comforting scent greedily. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding him close while his own wrapped tightly around your waist. 

“And I wish nothing more than for you to be with me, but you cannot. It is not a place for women and I would not have my beautiful,” his hands cupped your cheeks, pressing kisses to your mouth between words, ��lovely, tempting wife there pulling at my attention, as well as that of the bolder men in my company.”

You sigh, knowing he would not change his mind. 

“Very well. I will content myself alone.” Your tone made him laugh, and you smiled into his skin, well aware that you sounded more akin to an unruly child than a grown, married woman. 

“You are spoiled, terribly misbehaved and spoiled.” His hands slipped down and grabbed at your backside, “and it is entirely my fault.” 

“Yes it is.” You jut your chin out and he pressed a kiss to it. “When do you leave?” 

“Preparations are being made and I depart in three days time.” He pressed another kiss to the back of your hand, smiling as he led you to sit with him. “Once I am back, I shall plan something for us. How does that sound?” 

“And what shall you plan?” 

“We could travel, we could go to the sea and take in the fresh air, we could do anything my love. Whatever makes you happy.” His eyes shone with the same love you felt in your very bones for him. 

“I only need you for that.” 

-

The intensity of the craving made you frown, pulling your attention from the task of refilling the cellars of your house. One minute you had been taking note of how much grain there was, how much olive oil and wine was in your stores and the next, the desire for figs and honey and fresh, ripe pomegranate was so strong it almost moved your feet towards the kitchens. You stopped yourself though, running through your mental tally of days since your last blood and willing yourself to stay calm. 

“Girl, be a dear and fetch me figs and honey if you would.” You pat her hand softly, unable to stop yourself from softening the imagined blow of asking for something instead of fetching it yourself. Her eyes widened for a moment, before nodding. 

“Yes Domina.” She ran off, and you ignored the looks of the women who were helping you with your accounts. 

“Shall we call for a Medicus, Domina?” The eldest of them whispered in your ear, one who has always treated you with a softness that at times felt motherly, her work roughened hand landing soft on your shoulder. Nerves fluttered in your belly, a deep seeded fear threading through your very being as the memory of your loss filled your mind's eye so vividly it set your hands to shaking. But another emotion emerged, a fragile thing coloured with a hope so big it didn’t fit within your body. Without Marcus, it was difficult to navigate the swirl of different feelings fighting for dominance.

“Domina, let me call for the Medicus.” Gently, she guided you to sit, silently dismissing the staff tending to you. “I think it best you rest while we wait, I shall have him brought here to look you over.” 

“Yes, yes that is what we must do. I—yes I should rest a while.” With a shaky breath you smiled a smile that did not reach your eyes, and headed towards your chamber. 

When the medicus finally did arrive, the older woman held your hand, doing much to calm you in the absence of Marcus. Silently the man went about his business, checking and prodding and looking for the signs that you tentatively prayed were there. 

When he raised his head and smiled with a nod, both you and the woman cried with joy.

-

He was eager to step foot in his house, eager to be reunited with his heart. 

His blessedly peaceful campaign had gone well, the Emperor was in good spirits and for the first time in years, there was peace. He couldn’t wait to tell her how it had gone, couldn’t wait to press his kisses upon her skin. 

The house was surprisingly quiet when he finally arrived, the guards were hushed, his usual attendants were nowhere to be seen and his love was not where he thought he’d find her. 

When he reached their shared room things were stranger still, the gauzy linens were drawn across the windows, blocking out most of the sunlight. Incense was burning, and for a moment he feared she’d fallen ill while he’d been gone.

“My love? What is the matter?” She reclined in their bed, propped up on a nest or pillows, and her face lit up to see him. She was glowing, a soft sheen shining on her brow and for a moment he thought it might be a fever but she looked well, she looked beautiful. 

“I am well Marcus, truly.” She beckoned to him, arms outstretched and he all but ran to her side, sitting close to hold her hands. “We have been blessed, my love, truly blessed.” Tears shone in her eyes, he frowned for a moment until she placed his hand on her belly, and then it felt like his heart would jump out of chest. 

“You are sure?” He brought his face to her womb, pressing his lips to it while trying not to fall apart with joy. “Truly?”

“It has been confirmed, I am with child. You are to be a father, Marcus.” She shone with life, with vitality and was as beautiful as a Goddess, he couldn’t handle the joy in his heart. He wept into her belly, thanking the Gods, and praying for the health of the love of his life, and the child inside her.

-

Every single day of those first few weeks greeted you with fear.

Every free minute, every spare thought was filled with silent prayer, offerings were made to appease the Gods, you ate only the foods suggested by the Medicus. Marcus let you do nothing except rest, and take short, slow walks throughout the house. He was thorough with the instructions given to him, he rubbed the special oil onto the skin of your belly to help with the growth, he never left your side, he was gentle in all things. 

Once you started to show, and the most dangerous period had passed, even you started to shed some of the fear. Hope, and joy filled the house and everyone shared in it. The women were eager to have a little one running around, Marcus grew more and more excited at the prospect and filled your house with things for the child. Toys and a special chair, robes and little tunics to dress them in.

“Have you thought of a name?” You asked him as he rubbed at your tired feet, easing the ache as your stomach seemed to grow before your very eyes. 

“I have, but I haven’t really given any option much thought. It is best to wait until the child is born I think. And you? Is there a name you favour?”

“Well, a boy would definitely be named Marcus after you.” You smiled, imagining a miniature of him. 

“And for a girl?”

“We could honour the Gods, name her Diana, I also think Aurelia is quite pretty, or Acacia and name her after her father.” Your smile grew, imagining a little darling with his soft waves, his square feet.

“Fine choices.” He smiled, moving to the other foot and you sighed, soothed by his touch. 

“I will pray for a boy, to carry your name and carry on your legacy.” He shook his head.

“Give me a clever girl with your eyes, and your smile and I shall be happier than any other man alive.” He pressed a kiss to your shin. Tears sprung to your eyes, it was happening a lot of late, the baby made your emotions run rampant, his sweetness didn’t help.

“There there my love, no tears.” He soothed with gentle tone, well aware of your sensitivity, yet still as patient and loving as always. 

“I cannot help it, the joy is overwhelming, the love for you, for this little being is too much to fit inside me.” You held your belly, tears falling to dampen the skin of your chest. He moved to sit beside you, and gathered you into his arms, once again soothing you beyond words could explain. 

“I understand, I have been so blessed in this life it is difficult not to dwell and fear the worst. Let us just enjoy our good fortune, no more tears, it pains me to see you cry.” He pressed his lips to your forehead and you nodded silently, throat aching with emotion. 

With a tenderness that only made the ache stronger, he kissed the tear stains on your skin, smiling softly. When he got to your mouth, it was a reassuring press, a silent promise to you and to the life growing inside. It helped, but your mood, your appetites changed like the winds these days and the tears turned to desire for him so fast it made your head spin. 

Your tongue breached his mouth, corrupting the softness of his kiss and pulling a groan from somewhere in his chest. His hand pressed softly to your womb, while his mouth claimed yours in the softness of your shared bed. 

“Marcus-” It came out half moaned, half pleading. 

“Yes my love?” He breathed the words into the skin of your neck, his tongue mapping out the lines he liked to travel with his kisses, unsurprised at how quickly your passion for him was stirred with the child inside.

“Do you desire me? Do you wish for me to give you my cock?” Slowly, he exposed you, pulling the special tunic made to accommodate your belly off. The large swell, the heavy weight of your breasts, the swelling in your feet–all of the changes in your body had made you fear he would no longer find you desirable. He’d been quick to correct that assumption however. 

With your lip caught between your teeth, you nodded. 

Carefully, he turned you on your side, supporting the weight of your belly with pillows and linens before divesting himself of his own layers. The sight of him, skin golden and cock hardening turned your cunt to liquid. He smiled at the open desire on your face, positioning himself so he straddled the thigh resting on the bed, while lifting and holding the other, lining himself up at the mouth of your cunt. 

“Are you comfortable?” Your heart swelled for a moment, smiling at him before nodding. 

He took himself in hand, stroking a few times to bring himself to full mast before finally sinking in to the hilt. 

“So wet.” He whispered almost to himself, eyes focused on the way your cunt swallowed his length whole, coating it in your arousal. “My pretty little wife, with her pretty little cunt.” His fingers gripped at your thigh while he found his rhythm, angling himself to find the spot–

You keened, gasping as he huffed out a satisfied laugh. 

“There it is, that is the spot, yes?” He focused, hitting it like a bullseye while you clutched at the linens, too blissed out to answer but it mattered not, he knew. Sweat beaded on his brow, the muscles in his arms gleamed in the low candlelight as he panted out his exertion. His beauty so obvious, so highlighted there as he loved you that it filled the little space in your belly not filled with his child with the beating of butterfly wings. 

Your fingers reached out to him, needing to feel him surround you and he smiled, leaning forward to catch the tips of them with his lips while his hips moved faster. Your arousal pooled at the base of him, soaking the fine patch of hair between your legs, as well as the curls at the base of his cock.

With a crooked grin, he reached between your legs to swirl his thumb around your swollen clit and the climax is so close your legs start to tremble. 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop Marcus–” It was so close, building like a fire in your hips, spreading like lightning throughout your veins, dripping from where you were joined onto the linens of your bed. Your hand crept down, joining his to press his fingers closer, to guide his movements faster until you burst around him, squeezing him so tight he groaned and slowed his steady thrusting to a grind, his groin pressed tight. Your cunt fluttered around him, pleasure blooming and flooding your body like good, strong wine and it only intensified when he started moving again, chasing his own end while you floated on your cloud. It only took him a few thrusts before he filled you, fucking his seed deep. 

His chest rose and fell with each rapid breath, smiling and laughing softly as he pulled himself out.

Your combined passion smeared against your hip when he surged forward to claim your mouth in a kiss. His big hand curled around the curve of your neck softly, such a contrast to how it gripped your thigh. It slid down, smooth as silk before squeezing at your breast. 

“Oh!’ The warm drip shocked you, the milk beaded at your nipple before dripping down the valley between your breasts. The bigger shock though, was how quickly he chased it with his tongue. The arousal only flared again, sharp as a knife at the moan he let out. With an almost drunk expression, he wrapped his lips around the peak, and tasted your milk straight from the source. 

“Good?” Your fingers threaded through his sweat-soaked waves, cradling him close while he drank deep. His expression was almost sheepish, almost ashamed when he pulled away. 

“I do not know what has come over me,” He licked at the tip, staring at the other breast longingly, “I had to taste you, it’s so sweet.” He dipped his head again, drinking from the other breast, deep, strong pulls that only made the red hot coal of desire within you burn even brighter than before. When he pulled away he was breathing hard, shocked at his own reaction. 

“Did I hurt you?” He licked at sensitive peaks again, filling your brain with a fog of lust so strong you could barely think. 

“No, not at all, it feels really good.” You pulled him closer, urging him to drink, while guiding his hand between your legs. With a knowing grin, he obeyed. 

-

You knew from the moment your eyes opened in the morning, that the baby would come. There was an ache, a pulsing, a violence to its movements within your womb. The child was as impatient to emerge, as you were to give birth and finally have it whole and healthy in your arms. 

With a sigh, you tried to adjust yourself, smiling as Marcus pressed himself closer in his sleep, his big hand holding the swell. 

“I think today is the day, hmm?” You whispered to your belly, it kicked hard enough to make you wince. 

“Gods above, I felt that one, this child will be strong.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pulling another sigh from you. “How are you feeling?”

“I think it will be today, it feels like the baby has moved lower.” You did your best to rise, groaning before he all but lifted you to sit upright. 

“I will make the preparations, the midwife is ready and waiting for our summons.” He rose quickly, making you laugh with his urgency.

“Peace Marcus, it will not be right this second, but I do feel it mightl be today.” You stood, gingerly padding towards him, waving away his frown of concern. “Walking is good for me, it will help me with my labours.” He still frowned, meeting you halfway and squeezing you as tightly as he could without causing you pain. 

“I will be with you, at your side the whole time.” There was a small tremble in his voice you did not recognize, a nervous aura about him that seemed to bolster you. How curious, you thought, that his moment of fear, is my moment of courage. 

“The midwife and her attendants will be there, most men wait until the child is born–”

“I am not most men. I will be with you, holding your hand and wiping at your brow. This is a battle I cannot fight for you, but no one will keep me out of that room.” He pressed his face into your neck and you softened, his fear was justified. Many children did not survive their coming into the world, many mothers died alongside them. You said nothing, nodding softly as his fingers dug into your robes. 

The sun made its way across the sky and as it did your pains grew stronger. Cramps painful enough to steal your breath would squeeze at you like a fist for a few minutes before releasing you. The midwife walked with you, she took note of how much time passed between each attack, readying the birthing stool as well as her oils, her sponges and enough water and linens to be able to tend to both you and the baby. 

The sun was kissing the horizon when the water came, spilling all over your feet like a tidal wave and sending Marcus into a cold panic. 

The midwife did her examinations while your body ripped itself in two. With barely contained screams, and sweat dripping down your brow you got into position, doing your best to focus on your breathing while Marcus kept his word, silently wiping at your brow, and letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you could. 

“It must be now, push.” The midwife and one of her girls were in place, moving your robes aside to have access and you did what you had to do. You pushed. 

It was agony. 

It was liquid fire burning its way through your body, this baby wasn’t being born, it was clawing and tearing its way out of you. 

Marcus whispered into your ear, encouragingly, lovingly, patiently guiding you to breathe, to not give up. He reminded you how strong you were, how loved and how soon it would be over. How could it be over soon? It felt as though this pain had been with you at your own birth, all of your life this pain has been here, it had to be. Hours, days? You could not tell how long it had been.

You cried, you begged for it to end, you willed it to be so; shouted and screamed that it hurt too much, that it was too hard and that you could not do it. You told them that the baby would not come, that you could not do this, you were not strong enough. You screamed that this would surely kill you, you would tear in two and die.

“You will not die, you can do this, my love. Bear down, and push.” His gaze was steely, focused and firm and it filled you with courage.

With a sob and a scream you pushed, and pushed. You pushed so much you thought you’d burst and then pushed more still. Until finally, blessedly, the baby came out.

“You have done it! You have done it my love, my beautiful, strong, courageous girl, you have done it!” Tears were in his eyes as he held onto your limp form, but he was not looking at you. 

“Why does the child not cry?” It felt like you’d drunk too much wine, the relief from the pain so great you would faint soon, yet still, silence. There was a lot of movement, a terrifying moment that seemed to stretch on for an eternity and despite Marcus all but carrying you and laying you back to rest, no one met your eye. 

“Answer me, Marcus, why does the baby not cry? Give it to me! Is it a boy? Is it a girl?” Tears flowed and fear swelled like bile crawling up your throat until a cry loud enough to hurt your ears sounded and the entire room breathed a collective sigh of relief. 

“She is a beautiful, healthy and whole baby girl.” Swaddled and screaming, the bundle was placed at your breast. Marcus sobbed, openly and loudly into your shoulder, his big hand covering her tiny head while you looked at her in awe. She had so much hair, such strong lungs, such a force that you laughed, still crying. 

“Yes my little love, I know, you fought so hard.” You pressed a kiss to her little brow, doing your best to soothe her. 

She took to nursing your breast quickly, a good sign the midwife said and while she and her girls set everything to rights, you could focus on nothing but her. Her little hands clutched at you, taking a few greedy pulls before falling asleep, milk smeared all over her perfect face. 

“She is utterly perfect, she has your hands.” Marcus lay beside you, his gaze on her as though entranced. 

“She has your hunger.” You smiled, the euphoria eclipsing everything. It was so hard to stay awake though, the birth had taken so much out of you. 

“Give her to me and rest. I will be here with you.” With gentle hands, he took her, managing to put her onto his chest without waking her and before he’d even fully settled, sleep had claimed you. 

-

She had fought, both of them had. 

His girls had battled, fought tooth and nail and had come through victorious, though his love had paid a price. She’d bled, bled enough that it had frightened him, chilled him to the bone and when the midwife pulled him aside he already knew what she would say. There would be no more children, another birth might kill her. 

He mourned the fact that his daughter would have no siblings, no other children to fill this house alongside her but his wife would live. That was all that mattered. 

He watched her as she slept, glowing still, if a little wan, weakened by her labours but beautiful all the same. He could no longer imagine living this life without her, he could not see the joy in anything without her there beside him and now his daughter held the other half of his heart. She was the fruit of their union, she was the parts of them that would live on, the living embodiment of his good fortune and just the sight of her filled his eyes with tears. 

He pressed his lips to her little brow, smiling at the furrow in them when he jostled her, so like her mother it made him cry all the harder. 

This was all that mattered, his entire world was in this bed and he was loath to ever be separated from them again.

He didn’t know which name to call her, they’d never settled on anything. Acacia didn’t seem right, how could he name her after himself when she so resembled her mother already? Aurelia, that was pretty, Diana too. He would wait though, let her have the last say. He basked in the glow of the candles, in the comfort of his wife’s warm weight beside him, in the small weight at his chest and said another silent prayer in thanks.

-

She was so big already, three whole months and her growth never ceased to amaze you. She still looked tiny in her fathers arms, his broadness compared to her small body always made you smile, especially because for her he was less the brutal Roman General, and more of a soft, lump of honey. She ruled him implicitly, her every cry, her every happy sound was the reason he breathed.

“My love, I need to change her, those little robes are covered in milk.” There was no bite in your words, there could be no anger or annoyance in you at his adoration of her.

“Yes, yes you are right, she must be changed.” He smiled, bringing her to you. She was tired, yawning and fussing, fighting off her midday slumber with a fierceness that made you laugh. 

“Yes yes I know Diana, one moment and then your father will rock you.” You cooed at her, making quick work of the change and taking the opportunity to wipe her down with a damp cloth before returning her where she slept the best, her fathers chest.

Once he took her and sat at his favoured chair, she was out, little fist curled under her chin. This was his favourite, and yours. Watching her sleep peacefully, safe and loved within your arms, or his. 

“I never grow tired of studying her, already her little face is changing.”

He pressed his lips to her head, breathing in the clean, baby milk smell of her. 

“She will have your hair, already it curls when I wash it.” You thread your fingers through the fine wisps of it softly, smiling to imagine her older with curls flowing down her back. 

“She has your look, your look exactly. I am still in awe that we have created something so perfect.” His hand took yours and brought it to his lips, you bent to press yours to his forehead. 

“As am I, how blessed we are to have her, to have each other.” 

-

When he slipped into bed, you pressed your fingers to your lips, eyes wide to warn him.

“She is finally asleep, we must not wake her.” Your whisper was frantic, and he nodded.

“Yes my lady, I will be silent as the grave.” He pulled you close, whispering in your ear before pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. 

“So long as you can keep your voice down when I love you.” His hands pawed at you but you were so tired, it was hard to reconcile the intense want for him, with the ache of the day settling heavy on your bones. 

“My love, my mind desires this, but my body is so tired.” You pouted at him, mildly upset to deny him.

“Shall I use my mouth? You can lay back and relax, I can take care of you—my lovely girl deserves pleasure, and rest.” He smiled, undeterred and you could not help but smile. 

“And it does not bother you that I will just lay here? Most likely asleep before you have come up for air?” His grey waves were so soft when you raked your fingers through them. 

“It pleases me to please you, you are the mother of my child and the love of my life, I would do anything for you.” He kissed your fingers before spreading your legs wide with the breadth of his shoulders. “Do you wish for me to stop?” He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, and then the soft patch of hair at your mound, before kissing the lips of your sex. 

“No, I do not wish for you to stop.” You spread your legs a little wider and his smile grew bigger, letting a big glob of his own spit fall onto your sex before chasing it with his tongue.

He is focused, honed in with his gaze and with his tongue on your clit, flat wide licks from where your arousal drips up to the bundle of nerves and it’s like a spike of arousal pierced the very heart of you every time he swiped his tongue over it. Warm, wet and perfect, he swirled around it in time with your heartbeat, fanning the embers burning in your belly for him. 

The fingers that softly scratched at his scalp, now curled into the waves holding him in place as you struggled to keep your mouth shut, but he made it so difficult. The ache building as his brow creased with concentration and his own excitement. His own hand crept down and grasped his cock, stroking at it in time with the delicious circuit of his tongue. That he gained so much pleasure from this only heightened your own, and soon the knot tightened. 

Muscles clenched, all of your body a taut string waiting to snap with every pass, every strong lick. You pinched at a nipple, pulling his eyes up to find yours and he let out a low groan, the vibration of it pushed you over the edge with a silent gasp, and empty rhythmic clenches around nothing. He bestowed a final, filthy kiss to your overstimulated clit before moving quickly to get into position. With the shine of exertion glinting on his golden skin he knelt between your legs, pumping at himself furiously before silently, violently spilling onto your still fluttering sex. Hot, milky splashes of him covering it while he gripped at your thigh hard enough to bruise.

He caught his breath, smearing himself in his own mess between your legs past the point of discomfort. He was so beautiful like this, with the flush of passion lighting up his cheeks and his ears, spreading down his chest. 

He smiled, winking at you before he grabbed the cloth from the basin and cleansing the mess he had made. You wanted to hold and be held by him, but by the time he was done, you were already asleep.

-

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[twisting-roads]

DEBUNKING COMMON RAIN WORLD MISINTERPRETATIONS

The target audience for this was for people who don't know too much about the game as well, so I'm going to explain things that a normal player might already know.

Rain World is known for how it simply throws you into the world with almost no tutorial, and is often praised for it.

But this lack of explanation if you do not go out of your way to find it has also lead to a lot of misinterpretations from those who did not read all the game’s available information, or misunderstood what they were being told. I used to watch some RW lore videos that would explain and summarize these things, and in the past I believed them.

I’ve since stopped doing that after having some time to actually process what I’ve been reading, and I’m here to say...

YOU ARE ALL WRONG ABOUT RAIN WORLD.

Ok, hyperbole. Not everyone believes these, and art can always be interpreted in different ways by different people, and I won’t stop you from having these beliefs. But also, there’s plenty of ingame content which completely disproves most of these unsubstantiated points from those who do not fully research the game before making videos about it.

Looking at you Tale Foundry…

The purpose of this is to pick apart some of the sadly far too common points I’ve heard many times before from Youtube videos, to Tumblr posts, to people I’ve spoken to on Discord.

Starting with my least favorite…

------

“The 5 karma were seen as sinful”

Obvious westernization of a game based off fucking Buddhism aside, there’s no ingame text directly supporting this claim. There isn’t any that says otherwise, but we have good reason to believe this isn’t the case.

The 5 natural urges, as they’re sometimes called, were NATURAL. They were what bound you to the cycle. They never worsened your life or made you a terrible person should you keep following them, but an aspect of life on the same level as suffering or ecstasy.

Hey, I’ll break down the 5 karma and their meanings to show you that they're not just "sins"

I believe the natural urges have 2 different meanings: an animalistic one, and a more “human” one.

KARMA 1 This obviously represents violence, as you see one guy stabbing the other. I believe it also represents competition and intense emotions, For example: Artificer experiencing intense grief and lashing out in violence as a result. It was not the violence that started it, but her emotions. (Yes, its Downpour. But it’s a good point.)

KARMA 2

They’re having sex. They’re fucking. They’re- ok you get it. Karma 2 represents reproduction. But, I also believe it’s desire. Joyful bodily experiences, and such. The 2 figures seen here are in a much more playful pose than if they were simply doing this only to reproduce. No, they’re having fun.

KAMRA 3 Connection. Bonding with others. Yet also trade and personal belongings. Attachment to things that are not yourself.

KARMA 4 It’s mentioned ingame that this represents gluttony It’s overindulgence, you know. Similarly to karma 2, it can also be searching for fulfillment. I'm not particularly good at telling what the meaning of this could be.

KARMA 5 Self preservation. Self preservation can come in many forms, from an animal running away from a predator or somebody getting defensive after being accused of something or being threatened, this one is rather vague about its meaning.

I do this to show that the 5 urges have very NEUTRAL meanings. It being positive or negative is entire dependant on context. They’re not sinful, get out of here with that Catholic shit!

The 5 karmas have both positive, negative, and neutral contexts which they can fit into.

------

“The ancients hated being alive”

The ancients simply hated the cycle itself and its unknowable properties, as well as being much more aware of things like karma and the urges. Rather, they valued being effortless to disconnect themselves from this cycle.

“This was an eternal dilemma to them - they were burdened by great ambition, yet deeply convinced that striving in itself was an unforgivable vice. They tried very hard to be effortless.” – Bright Green Pearl (DS)

Some practices did of course include things like starving yourself, but as mentioned by Moon, these methods proved to be mostly obsolete. Void Fluid fundamentally changed their culture from what we see. Rather, we do see the ancients enjoying life and valuing it in their own way, which is INCREDIBLY important to some of the games themes, but I’ll get into that later.

"[...]'In this vessel is the living memories of Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel, of the House of Braids[…] Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel nobly decided to ascend in the beginning of 1514.008, after graciously donating all (ALL!) earthly possessions to the local Iterator project (Unparalleled Innocence), and left these memories to be cherished by the carnal plane.The assorted memories and qualia include:Watching dust suspended in a ray of sun (Old age). Eating a very tasty meal (Young child). Defeating an opponent in a debate contest, and being applauded by fellow team members (Late childhood/Early adulthood).’...and the list goes on. I'm sorry, little creature, I won't read all of this - the list is six hundred and twenty items long.” – Deep Magenta (SH)

There’s quite a lot to pick apart here, I had to cut down some parts short, but even the cut parts have important details. Just not important enough for me to bring up here.

The Memory Crypts we see ingame are… well where memories are kept. The qualia (personalized experiences) is stored within these mutated fleshy neural organisms referred to as “cabinet beasts”. These of course, contain the “living memories” or qualia of those who have ascended. There are people smarter than me who have already covered these ideas of course, so I won't go TOO indepth.

The ancients greatly valued titles and achievements just as us. They still lived normal lives. As well as this, they valued personal experiences and memories of the carnal realm so much they built an entire citadel to store memories.

As we can see as well, Seventeen Axes has quite a lot of enjoyable memories from throughout their life. Eating nice food and winning a debate contest and getting validation from their peers? That sounds rather… complacent with the 3rd and 4th natural urges, doesn’t it?

I do not believe this screams “I hate being alive!” as much as people have made it out to be, and is honestly ruins part of the game’s messages of compassion and personalized experiences, especially in the game’s ending where Survivor dreams of home.

“You have no name. I once had! I was embalmed, adorned, readied for the journey. So proud. There was jubilation! My name was sung, loud and clear. Did they know? That I didn't quite leave, didn't quite stay? Should I be ashamed? That I linger here, where my memories are kept? Should I be ashamed that I now envy your flesh prison?” - Four Needles under Plentiful Leaves

This is leaning into personal theory territory, but...

I personally believe that the ancients were somewhat terrified of the unpredictability of the cycle and the fact that life would always have more suffering in it.

RW’s religion is heavily based off Buddhism. This is well known of course. The Cycle is a variation of Samsara. Now, I’m not Buddhist, and I’ve tried to do my research about some of these topics. Feel free to correct me, I’m simply going off what I know. (Also I'd love to hear what you have to say regarding your thoughts on the game!)

In Buddhism, each new life you could be taken into the body of an animal, or even end up being tortured in hell for a very, very, VERY long time if you made the wrong decisions, which made escaping it as soon as you could seem like a rather reasonable thing to do.

The ancients never fully grasped the scope of the cycle, and the prospects of having your soul wake up in the body of some miserable worm with no memory of your past or any ideas of your future might’ve seemed bleak.

Suffering is inevitable. But that doesn’t mean they hated being alive, like I said before.

------

“Rain World is post-apocalyptic.”

It really isn’t. There was never any apocalypse. The ancients simply left on their own accord, leaving behind their mark on the world that will slowly be buried once again in the ever so present cycle.

“The bones of forgotten civilizations, heaped like so many sticks.” - Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets

The world is thriving, even. The purposed organisms left behind have evolved and taken over and become it’s own ecosystem.

The iterators are dying though. Dying very slowly, but soon they’ll all decay and everything will move on.

It’s all just another manifestation of the cycle.

------

“The creatures in Rain World cannot die”

This is definitely something I hear from people who haven’t played much of the game and only hear about it from outside sources and watch the gameplay.

Yes, it is easy to believe this. As slugcat, when you die, you wake back up again. This is entirely a gameplay thing and not actually related to the lore. Saying this might seem like I'm avoiding the question at hand here, but the rules that apply to you do not seem to apply to other creatures.

Every creature in the game has a 4 integer ID (it can go higher, but not in a standard playthrough).

This makes every creature you see an individual of sorts with its own randomized values or appearance.

As well as this, creatures spawn from specific marked dens. When you kill a creature that spawns from a certain den, the next cycle, that creature’s ID will never appear again. Instead, the den spawn is replaced by a creature of the same species with a different ID, or a new species entirely.

Through gameplay, you see that the respawn rules that apply to you do not apply to other creatures. I’ve heard many points about how these dead creatures are transported to another alternate universe where they are alive, but I really do not want to delve into that theory. You do that yourself.

Excuse my unprofessional language, but this is kind of stupid. Billions and billions of little timeline splits accounting for every single insect and microbe that dies seems far too complex of a solution. Occam's Razor and all that.

With this gameplay element you see, I also want to give LORE explanations as to why this is incredibly stupid.

1) If death had no impact, the 5 natural urges would not matter

If no creatures died, there would be no point in eating (karma 4), competing with other species (karma 1), or any form of self preservation (karma 5). Reproduction (karma 2) has no role and there would be absolutely no reason to do anything any longer. All natural processes would be useless.

2) Light Blue Pearl

The information received from the cycle is most likely from the Light Blue Pearl, found in Outskirts.

“[...]The repeating mantra is important because it symbolizes the cyclical nature of life and death, and the termination verse is a symbol for ascension above and beyond it. I don't know how familiar you are with the nature of life and death, but I imagine like all living creatures you have some intuitive knowledge? Then you know that death isn't the end - birth and death are connected to each other like a ring, or some say a spiral. Some say a spiral that in turn forms a ring. Some ramble in agonizing longevity. But the basis is agreed upon: like sleep like death, you wake up again - whether you want to or not. This is true for all living things, but some actually break the cycle. That doesn't apply to you or me though, you are too entangled in your animal struggles, and for me not breaking that cycle is an integral part of the design. Our mantras keep repeating.”

“Then you know that death isn't the end - birth and death are connected to each other like a ring, or some say a spiral. Some say a spiral that in turn forms a ring.“

This line is very misunderstood. Moon specifically mentions birth and death. She mentions death. She never brings up the notion that nothing truly dies either.

As well as this, Moon says that “some say”, implying that even the ancients weren’t sure what the cycle was either. This is more important to my point regarding how the unfathomable nature of the cycle was why the Ancients were so averse to it from above, though.

------

“Sliver of Straw found the solution.”/"There is/isn't solution"

No she didn’t.

.

.

Ok fine I’ll explain.

If you’ve played Rain World you know that the purpose of the iterators is to find the solution to the “Great Problem”, the problem of how to ascend ALL living creatures.

You’ll also know Sliver sent out the Triple Affirmative…

“[...]affirmative that a solution has been found, affirmative that the solution is portable, and affirmative that a technical implementation is possible and generally applicable. She's also one of few that has ever been confirmed as exhaustively incapacitated, or dead. We do not die easily.[…]” - Pale Yellow (SL)

After sending out this affirmative, the iterators became conflicted. They never could figure out if she really ascended and had found the solution, or if it was some sort of catastrophic error.

The answer to the Great Problem is clearly intended to be as obscured as possible. There cannot be an answer one way or the other. The themes of it and the endless tolling of the iterators would not be as impactful if we knew there was or wasn’t a solution.

“[...]Either way, after that these different factions developed, as well as a huge forensic effort to recreate and simulate Sliver of Straw's last moments. Some of the simulations were wrapped in a simulation wrapped in a simulation, in case something dangerous might happen. Nothing much has come from it.[…]“ - Pale Yellow (SL)

Here’s my favorite way of explaining what I mean…

Imagine Schrodinger's Cat, the famous thought experiment. There’s a 50/50 chance that when you open the box, you either find the Solution, or find out there is No Solution.

Except you cannot open the box. And the box is entirely theoretical and nobody’s seen it. It seems impossible, but maybe one day you’ll find that box. That’s what the Great Problem is.

Sliver apparently having found the solution would have completely broken everything. Five Pebbles wouldn’t have ended up hurting himself and Moon had Sliver finding the solution been known with certainty. He was taking a shot in the dark.

------

“Ascension is akin to suicide.”

I strongly believe this point harms the role that ascension and the void sea play in Rain World’s narrative. Ascension is meant to be a final destination, a goal you build up to and prepare for when you’ve lived every bit of life you possible could, and can now move on.

Bringing up the Memory Crypt pearl from earlier, Seventeen Axes lived an incredibly fulfilling life from what we see, and ascended happily.

As well as this, Buddhism strongly encourages those who wish to liberate themselves to discover their own path, which is also subtly shown through the gameplay, as there are many many routes you can take to Five Pebbles, Looks To The Moon, and The Depths.

I do also think this is why Five Pebbles failed. He tried to brute force his way to ascension.

Suicide implies that ascension is only meant to be a fruitless escape and that it’s wrong to ascend. I… do not want to go into why suicide is bad. It’s a strong topic and I’m just here to talk about video games. But ascension is a neutral thing that you can choose to do or not do and to wait until you’re ready.

------

Conclusion...

I really only have the time to cover these 6 misconceptions, and I believe it should be enough. There have been many others I’ve seen, such as the ancients being malicious or that there weren’t any civilizations before them, but there’s not as much to say about them, and they aren’t as common.

Rain World is a very confusing game. I’m not upset at people who think these things to be true, and I do not believe they’re stupid or don’t have any media literacy. I just wish that the people who did actually cover this game did some more looking into it, and actually discussing it with Rain World fans.

Also I should say, that during this entire discussion I have avoided talking about Downpour- RW’s DLC- as it’s more of a official fanmade project. And so much of what it says may not be entirely in line with Vanilla. Because my life isn’t easy and of course there has to be an incredibly divisive and confusing thing like this that I need to avoid bringing up so that way the conversation isn’t muddled.

Thanks if you managed to make it through all this by the way

[pablitogavii]

Well I have an idea in my mind Pablo and the rest of the team were talking in the locker room that making the woman reach orgasm was very difficult and required a lot of time So Pablo was worried that you were faking your orgasm because it only took ten minutes. So he started talking to the boy to find a solution, telling him to make sure she wasn't faking it I don't even know how this idea came into my mind

All real with you, mi amor

"And it took hours, tío! I was so exhausted by the end that I just fell asleep" Ferran talked rather loudly about his newest fling and Pablo listened secretly curious about the conversation.

"I know! Sometimes it takes them hours to cum, and we're done in minutes" Fermin added to it and Pablo thought about you instantly.

During your "sexy times" ;) it never took you too long to cum, and Pablo prided himself in making you cum multiple times in a duration of an hour.

"Can't she just fake it at that point like all women do?" Ferran added and now Gavi's hand turned around quicker than ever before..what did they mean all women fake it???

"De que hables?" Gavi said and both boys smirked at their rather shy friend for being so interested n the topic all of the sudden.

"About women faking orgasms because it takes a long time for them to cum.." Ferran said and Pablo felt uneasy thinking that you would fake anything with him but he couldn't help but wonder now.

"Why do you think they fake it if they cum fast?" Gavi said genuinely trying to understand but boys were taking it as a joke.

"Looks like Pablito is not only the beast on the cancha, but in the sheets too..lucky Y/n!" Ferran teased as did everyone else but Gavi kept thinking about their conversation..how would he know if you were really faking it with him?

"Do you really think women fake orgasms?" Gavi asked Marcos Alonso as an older guy and the man rubbed the boy's head telling him that it is common but not always the case and he shouldn't worry so much about it.

But Pablo was very worried now..he loved making you cum, and what if it's all fake? How horrible he would feel if that was true...

He came home exhausted from the intense cardio training and his girl waited for him excited to jump into his arms and cuddle for a few minutes.

It was obvious that he was not in a good mood, and you noticed like always asking if everything was alright at work.

"It's fine preciosa..I'm just thinking about something" he said vague and you wondered what it was that got your boy so concerned. You were worried that it was something you did that made him upset.

"Is it something about me, amor?" you asked innocent eyes looking at him and he couldn't stop staring at them..kept wondering if the way they glisten when you cum was just a source of his imagination.

"Yes, princesa.." was all he said not wanting to lie since you promised to always be truthful.

"Que? No me quires mas?" you say sadly knowing of course that's not the case, and Pablo was quick to kiss you in reassurance.

"Te quiero con toda mi alma, te lo juro princesa..only.." he said and you turned around on his lap so you could face him. Your hand moved his hair so you can look each other in the eye.

"Que te pasa? Dime?" you say still caressing his face when he took both of your hands in his veiny ones and kissed them.

"I want to know if you ever faked an orgasm with me?" he was direct because he wanted a direct answer but you as always got very shy talking about this, so you blushed bright red.

"Don't tease me Pablito! You know I get shy.." you answer hiding your face in the crook of his neck not really knowing how to talk about this.

"Look at me muñeca..estoy hablando enserio" he said holding your hot face in his hands and you were once again looking at him.

"Did you ever fake an orgasm with me?" he repeated his question and now you knew he was serious about this.

"Where did you get this idea from amor?" you ask and he felt like you are avoiding a question when you were just confused why all of the sudden he would assume something like this?

"Guys said women often fake it because it takes them long time to cum..and you always cum in ten minutes with me, so it makes sense." he was mumbling his thoughts until you shut him up with a kiss and he leaned into your touch.

"Pablo..ven conmigo" you say taking his hand and you two walked into your shared bedroom. You sat on the bed and pulled him to do so as well.

"I want you to hear me say this.." you say moving closer and snaking your arms around his broad strong shoulder.

"It's all real with you amor..te lo prometo" you whisper the last part and Pablo smiled big moving your legs so that you were straddling his lap now as he started kissing you hungrily.

"Really?" he asked hopefully and you nodded with your forehead against his as he started to kiss don your neck to your shoulder blades and you were already a moaning mess.

"Why do girls fake?" he said still kissing you and driving you crazy.

"Because they haven't found a man able to satisfy them properly mi amor..f..fuck right there" you moan and he lays you back slowly sucking the marks into your skin.

"Hmmm then I guess you're lucky preciosa..because I live to satisfy my perfect girl..you taste so sweet" he kissed down your stomach and you opened your legs out of instinct as he pulled down your panties.

"Hmm how loud you get when I make you cum, it's impossible to fake that preciosa.." he was talking with his face between your thighs which only intensified the feeling of ecstasy right now.

"U..ugh..you know my body so well P..pablito" you moan and he smirks nodding his head and pulling your thighs even closer to his face.

"It's MY body preciosa.." he said and that was enough to have you over the edge with your thighs shaking from the intense orgasm you just had.

"Oh yeah definitely real, perfecta mia.." he said licking your juices clean before kissing your lips and making you taste yourself which only turned you on more.

"M..mas Pablito.." you begged and he smirked nodding his head and pulling the rest of your clothes off..let's just say you spent the whole night proving to him that it was all real just for him ;))

[satzumosupremacy]

Elite Bodyguard Series: Pt.10

Desperation

Male reader x Jeon Somi

Tags: Smut, literally face fucking, daddy kink

2.8k Words

You have a history with Somi. Back when you were a freshly new bodyguard, she repeatedly sought out your services. Regardless of whether the close relationship you shared with her is just a distant memory for you, she still thinks of you from time to time—perhaps more often than you'd expect. And here you are, reminiscing about the old days and walking in front of Somi as she follows behind.

“Oppa, y’know my song was inspired by you.”

“Fast Forward?”

There’s a reason why Somi isn’t your client anymore—she switched agencies, that’s the only reason. You advanced quickly, gaining many celebrity clients along the way. It’s the law of attraction: when people seek top talent, companies turn to you. And when Somi needed to make a decision on her own career as an idol, she only had two choices: move to a different agency or continue to have you by her side. It was a hard choice for Somi until she came to the obvious conclusion. You didn’t hold any resentment; you understood her decision. This was all business anyways.

However, the glares in your eyes weren't always so friendly. Your presence was already intimidating, with the black suit, sunglasses, earpiece, and sometimes even a holster at your hip. You didn't smile much, but you got the job done. Initially, Somi thought you were a cold person, but that changed once you became her regular bodyguard. The more time she spent with you, the more her perception shifted. Despite your cold and intimidating appearance, you cared for and protected your client. That was the job you had signed up for.

“I took part in the lyrics,” Somi says, causing you to stop short before opening the door and look back at her.

“What do I have to do with your song?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “Just.. just missed you, Oppa. Don’t you miss me too?”

You couldn't give her an answer when she expected a 'yes,' but you remained silent. Was it wrong to forget about her? You had her phone number, but you never called or texted. Not even to wish her something like a 'Happy Birthday' or 'Happy New Year.'

Somi glances around to make sure no one is watching. Once she's certain both of you are alone, she takes your hand. “I know we are parting ways again after this. But can we catch up? I don’t want you to leave.”

“I think your manager is waiting, Somi. We can catch up next time. Promise?”

“But remember the promise you made with me last time?”

You're clueless. Her question was too vague. It's been years. "What promise?"

“May I come over, Oppa? You’ve seen my place. I never saw yours.”

Somi never slept with you, but it was obvious that she wanted to fuck at the hotel when you went overseas with her, which didn't went her way anyways since this was all business. “Does Chaeyoung talk about me to you, Somi? I’m sure she said something.”

“Oppa, just once. Please?” Somi’s begging for you straightforwardly, you can tell from her eyes that she’s been lonely for far too long. “Aren’t we close? How many years have we not seen each other? It’s been too long, Oppa.”

There’s also not a single lie that you can tell Somi was interested in you, not just sexually, but also romantically. When times change, it’s questionable when you and Somi parted ways.

“Ennik,” you say softly. “Somi.”

“Yes?” she smiles and lets go of your hand.

“Come home with me.”

She chuckles, “finally, you’re not playing hard for once.”

———

“Daddy?” Somi says cautiously out of the blue as you pull into the driveway.

“Is that like one of your kinks?” you chuckle.

“You don’t like it?”

“I’m not judging. I don’t mind it, Somi.” You turn the car off and close the garage door. “Let’s go inside.”

She's unusually quiet, waiting impatiently as you both exit the car and walk inside. There's no doubt that Somi won't let you off the hook the moment you step in. She's hungry. She's lonely. As you shut the door calmly, before you can even turn around, she gets on her knees with her hands in her lap, looking up at you desperately.

"Give it to me, Daddy," she softly pleads once you see her kneeling, slowly placing her hands on your pants and pulls down slowly.

“Somi,” you take a breath, "how much did you missed me?"

"So much." Somi leans closer, staring right at you from below and getting a whiff of your crotch.

"Then show me how much you missed me. Be a good girl."

Somi doesn't respond, but you can see it in her eyes that she wants to be proven worthy. And slowly, Somi bites onto the waistband of your boxers, then pulls it down with a wicked smirk, and you felt her nose dragging against your skin.

She’s not someone who you just met. You know that she's a horny one at heart. Somi didn't want to waste any time. Her breaths came shallow and quick, as if each breath were full of desperation. She gulps and stares at your cock the moment it flings out of your boxers. But before you give her a taste, what's the fun without a small tease? You already have her in a chokehold, and she wouldn’t want to escape it.

"Take off your shirt," you demand, caressing her cheeks. Somi didn't even hesitate and takes off her shirt, revealing a black bra as you stare at her cleavage. Her tit's are round and perfect, more than enough to where you would want your face in between.

“Good girl.” you say, smirking.

She leans closer again and only stares at you after a quick kiss on the tip of your cock. “I’ve been fantasizing about you. I thought about you late last night."

“I’ll make it come true, Somi.” You say, brushing her hair and getting a clear view of her beauty. Once her mouth opened, she wanted only one thing: to taste you. But knowing how desperate Somi is, you're not letting her. Not this easily. You pull her hair back and she gasp, staring up to meet your gaze.

Somi gulps, which was loud in this quiet house. “Daddy,” she whispers. You saw your own reflection in her eyes as she looks at you.

“Open your mouth,” you say, wanting to be in control. Quietly, she opens her mouth without hesitation and you slap your cock right on her cheeks, not once, but twice as she flinches and smiles, then Somi wickedly chuckles.

“I’m such a slut for you.”

“It should be that way,” you say, a deeper tone that made her heart to start fluttering. Your cock was right in front of Somi. She’s impatiently waiting like a good girl. “Keep your mouth open and your tongue out.”

Again, she listens to everything you demanded. Her eyes gleamed, begging you so desperately to the point she’ll do anything just for a small taste. And as you’re curious to how desperate she was, her salvia starts to drip off the tip of her tongue.

You slap your cock right on her tongue, then held her nape with no intentions on letting Somi have it her way. You’re planning to ruin her face. She deserves it. There’s no excuse if Somi’s been waiting for this day. And with a small thrust into her mouth, she chokes once you reached the back of her throat. You push harder, slowly every few seconds without pulling out your cock.

Somi's throat expands, and you could feel her trying to choke, when it’s only a weak one with your cock deep in her throat. She leans back, almost falling behind, and you intentionally did it to pin her against the wall. She closes her eyes shut, face trembling to how deep your cock was in. Well, you weren’t trying to make her pass out, but you did start to worry and gave Somi some room to breathe.

She takes a deep breath with your cock still in her mouth. Without a response, Somi grabs onto your hips, bobbing and tilting her head slowly. You couldn’t help but smirk at how much of a slut you made her. There was no sense of pride from Somi. She's going crazy for your cock.

“Good girl,” you groan, complimenting Somi. “Go ahead, have it. Take it.”

“Mhm,” she murmurs. Then there’s a long hum, the type of hum of tasting something delightful. You felt her perfectly manicured nails digging into your skin as she grips harder and harder, cock disappearing in and out from her mouth. Saliva drips down from her chin and right onto her cleavage. You give a hard thrust and her head’s now against the wall, perfect as you smirk to what wicked intentions you have for her face—a hard face fucking.

Somi closes her eyes, letting a tear out by how hard you were thrusting into her mouth. It’s the tears of happiness that everyone gets after getting what they’ve been longing for. You decide to suddenly stop, still with your cock deep down in her throat. And with your thumb on her face, you wiped her tears, smudging her mascara in the process. She looked more of a slut at this point, and you aren’t complain of seeing Somi like this when her hair is sticking to the wall.

“Good girl,” you say, more softly with a deeper tone. “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” Praising her is a cheat code, she loves being complicated and praised at, especially if it’s from you. You’re well aware of how much you meant to her. It’s no secret.

And it’s clear that you’re using her mouth like a toy, she’s choking and gagging. You could care less while you chase this peace of mind from a singer’s mouth. Somi’s not stopping you, neither would you want to.

“Fuck,” you groan softly, taking a quick breath, and seeing how much of a mess her face was and pulls out. Saliva drips down to her tits after she spits more out to make a mess. You love it how she’s just a slut taking your cock like there’s no tomorrow. Her lips are coated in saliva as she worships your cock with her lips pressing right on it.

“Am I being a good girl, Daddy?” she mumbles, lips on the tip of your cock.

“You are. Maybe you should stop talking and show me that you’re even better than a good girl.” Somi’s face was all fucked, a whole hot mess. She’s even more beautiful like this.

“I want it all over my face, Daddy.”

“Should maybe get ready then.”

You grab onto her face, squeezing her cheeks with your fingers and palm right on her chin to make Somi look up at you. You were once her love interest. You were her protector. And now, she’s on her very knees, in a mess taking your aggression. Somi couldn’t say anything, she’s more mesmerized by your glare. You push your cock back into her mouth to make Somi gag and continue to choke all over your cock.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” you groan. Your cock was shoved deep down to the point it bulges out her throat. Her eyes are closed, tears slowly coming down her face. You felt saliva dripping all the way down to your balls. Her small mouth couldn’t take it, but she's not stopping you from using her like a toy.

Your cock begins to throb, violently more as you keep shoving your cock into her mouth. There’s a whole mess on her tits as it’s drying out layer by layer. Somi’s taking it like a slut that she is. It doesn’t matter how rough you were, Somi loves the way your cock throbs. After a deep gasp, and a moan, you pull out. Webs of saliva flows out her mouth and on your cock down to her chest.

She grabs onto your cock to start stroking it. Somi knew what to do. She wants to make you cum all over her face. Her hands squeezes your cock, stroking it faster and faster while looking up at you.

“Make me cum, Somi,” you uttered quickly. “I’ll cum on your pretty face.”

“Give it to me, Daddy,” she murmurs. Her mouths wide open, tongues out, eyes all closed.

You cum by her small hands squeezing and stroking your cock, releasing all the built up sexual tension for years, but all Somi can feel was how much cum there was on her face. With a bright smile, and a couple flinches from cum shooting onto her face, she finally got her fantasy to come true. It’s warm. It’s thick. Just what she’s been craving for.

Somi’s face is the definition of getting face fucked. Her hairs a mess, cum all over her lips, cheeks, and even up to her hair as she couldn’t open her eyes but smile. Then strands of cum stretch and drip down her chin to her tits.

“What a mess,” she utters after swallowing your cum, and the biggest smile you saw from her today. Somi scoops all the cum on her face and licks every single finger.

“You’re missing more, Somi,” you say, wanting her to lick your cock clean. She crawls on her knees to suck you off without a word. “There’s some on your hair too.”

“It’s fine,” she says after pulling off your cock with a loud pop. “You taste good.”

“Was I too aggressive?”

“Kind of. Tolerable thought. But why should I complain?” She then leans in again to give your cock a quick kiss. Her chest is pumping after being used as a toy.

“Water?” you say, wanting to give her some care.

“No,” she whispers shyly.

You grab your pants and gently hand Somi her shirt. She’s still on her knees with the shirt rolled up into a ball as she covers part of her chest. “It’s not a problem if you want get in my panties if you’re thinking about it right now.”

Well, you did give her a hard face fucking. It’s only right that you give Somi a time to rest. As you put on your pants, she’s just staring down at the floor, lost in thought.

“What are you thinking, Somi?”

“Are you gonna kick me out?” she says, looking up at you. There’s a pure moment of silence, you couldn’t believe what she just said. After face fucking her? Why kick her out?

“Do you want me to, Somi?” you smirk, teasing her when you aren’t planning on kicking her out.

“You want my pussy? I’ll give it to you right now for as long as you want. Please let me stay for a while, Oppa. Please, Daddy?”

You’re dumbfounded to why Somi thinks that you’ll kick her out. “Calm down, let’s go sit on the couch. I’m not telling you to leave.”

“Oh,” she embarrassingly says and puts on her shirt. After Somi stands up, she follows you to the couch and sits right beside you. Somi couldn't belive that she got naked and took your cock like a slut. Neither did she want to fully admit of being one.

“How was it since you changed agencies, Somi?”

“I really missed you. I couldn’t stop thinking that I might of made the wrong choice to leave you behind. And now you’re with Twice.”

“I’m just a bodyguard,” you chuckle.

“So what? You’re so comfortable to be around with. Isn’t it obvious?”

You shrug, “don’t know.”

“Oppa,” she takes a deep breath. “Was it also obvious that I was interested in you?”

“It was. Why are you bringing this up, Somi?”

“If I can’t buy your love, I’ll sell you my body. That’s the most I can do for you to want me in a way.”

You sigh, “there’s gotta be a better way to word that, Somi. C’mon.”

She then sits closer to you and puts her head on your shoulders, “we never had a proper farewell to each other. I want to thank you for everything.”

“It’s..not like I’ll never take you in as a client again, Somi. If both our schedules are right, I don’t mind taking you.”

“Really, Oppa?”

“When’s your next concert? I’ll come with Chaeyoung.”

“Why come with her when you can be alongside me like we used to? Be backstage and we can eat at a restaurant after with my manager. I want to treat you for everything you’ve done with me.”

“Just text me, Somi. I’ll be there if your agency reaches out to me.”

“Mhm, I can’t thank you enough.”

“Do you plan on spending the night here?”

“I’m busy tomorrow morning, Oppa,” she sighs.

“I’ll take you home later, Somi.”

A/N: Lost motivation to write more, but hope this is enough. Half ass edit too.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Unwanted (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You're in love with Agatha. It's too bad she's in love with someone else.

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Unrequited love, angst

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme @grilledcheeseandguavajelly

You’d always wondered what Agatha in love would look like. You’d just never wanted to find out like this.

The Witch’s Road was meant to help you regain your powers, to come into your own, to stop feeling so god damned weak and vulnerable at all times. Instead, you were feeling smaller than ever, doing your best not to let the shadows pull you under. If you didn’t have to keep fighting for your life, it would be so easy to let the darkness have you.

But alas, the Road kept trying to kill you and so you were putting all your energy into not dying as you watched Agatha with the woman you were certain she was in love with.

You’d laugh if it wasn’t so pathetic.

When she’d shown up at your door, demanding you join her coven, you’d felt special. The great Agatha Harkness was hand picking you. She wanted you. You were important. So you’d said yes without putting any thought into the decision like the idiot you were.

There was no reason to still be in love with her. She’d popped in and out of your life for years now, showing up when you least expected it. The first time, when you were still young, too young to be given much notice by her, she’d swept into your town and dazzled you. Her power was extraordinary. She held confidence in her body like it was a lover. She’d winked at you and you’d known your life was changed forever.

Every time you caught so much as a glimpse of her through the years it sent your heart careening through your body, your pulse thrumming, breathless and wanting. You followed her career as much as you could. You’d heard the rumours, you knew what other witches said, and yet you couldn’t make yourself care. There was something about her, a blackhole dragging you in, the gravity you fell into, the body you revolved around.

So this trip should have been a good thing. Hours spent in her presence, showing how capable and competent you were as a witch, winning her over, it was your chance. Your chance to show her the kind of person you were and maybe impress her.

You had never been given over to flights of fancy. You knew enough to not get your hopes up. There was no fantasy that she’d see you in a new light and fall in love with you so completely that she’d drop everything and want to be with you. But there was a chance she might see something she liked or was intriguing or made her want to know more. And that could snowball down the line into something more than vague recognition of your existence.

So when Sharon had been killed and Rio had clawed her way out of the ground, you couldn’t have known you’d be watching that dream fall apart so completely.

“Who do you think she is really?” Jen asked, watching as Rio followed Agatha around a bend until you couldn’t see them anymore.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Alice asked.

“But don’t you want to know the details?” she asked, making it sound as if she was discussing the latest celebrity gossip, “how they got like this?”

“You could ask,” Alice said.

“As if they’d tell us the truth,” she scoffed.

You sunk down, shoulders curling, watching the point the two women had disappeared from view. There was a sick impulse to follow them, to spy, to force yourself to watch the way you would never be enough. She had someone. Her heart was full. There was no space for you.

“I bet they have some pretty kinky sex,” Jen said.

“Excuse me,” you said, standing.

It wasn’t that you were purposefully making your way towards them. You just needed to get away from the conversation Jen was trying to have. The ache in your chest beat in time with your heart, a constant wound you worried at only making it worse. Your footsteps led you away from the fire.

That scar thing had really gotten to you. The words mixed with the image of Agatha’s face, so beautiful, but going through such an emotional journey, was overlayed in your brain as you walked. You knew you could never say anything so romantic, nothing that could encapsulate such a deep love story, never experiencing that with her.

And the worst thing was you could understand it. Rio was something special. You only had to look at her to know. She was everything you wish you could be. You couldn’t even blame Agatha for being in love with her.

You don’t mean to stumble into whatever was going on with them. Frozen, you stared, far enough away that you can’t hear the words whispered to each other, but close enough to see the way Agatha reached for Rio’s face, the way she purposely shared air with her. Your stomach roiled and all you wanted was to turn away but you were unable to. You were rooted to the spot, forced to watch the only woman you’d ever loved love someone else.

Your fingertips tingled, your breathing grew shallow, your skin felt hot. It was almost like floating behind your own eyeballs, staring out at the world but not quite a part of it. The ache in your chest became something more acute, spreading out through your veins until every inch of you hurt. One touch would undo you. This moment would undo you. A strong enough wind would blow you away on the breeze. You were coming apart at the seams.

Long fingered hands fell from soft cheeks, drawing away, the expression heartbroken and angry and everything you never wanted to see on her face. She stepped past Rio, leaving her there.

Only then her eyes alighted on you and a wave of shame went crashed into you. Her face tightened, expression harding. You flinched back.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

Then you spun on your heels and fled.

Gasping for breath, you slumped down further down the road, somewhere no one could find you, somewhere you could be alone to try and paste your heart back together. Burying your head in your hands, all you could see was the way Agatha had reached for Rio, the tilt of her head, the obvious intent behind the action. Maybe it would be better if you let yourself sink below the Road. It would hurt less than this moment.

“Some things are not for us.”

Looking up, the tears clinging to your eyelashes turned the figure blurry. The bright cardigan was enough for you to know, but when Lilia settled beside you, you still wished it was someone else. Someone with blue eyes and dark hair and an inscrutable expression.

You truly were pathetic.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said.

“The heart wants things we know would be bad for us. I’ve had plenty of love affairs I knew would end in tears when they began,” she said, “this is one moment in time and there will be others.”

“There won’t,” you said then cursed yourself for confirming everything you hadn’t said.

“Of course there will,” she said like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“She’s been the only one my entire life,” you said.

She considered you for a moment, eyes narrowing, eyebrows pulling together.

“You’ve got to pull yourself together,” she said, “pretty thing like you? You can do better than the witch killer.”

“It’s not about doing better. It’s about wanting her,” you said.

Warm hands cupped your cheeks, turning you towards her. You wanted to pull away, to shake your head, to not let someone see so much of you. You’d carried this flame for so long, holding it close to your heart, protecting it from being blown out. No one had seen it, keeping it to yourself in a misguided attempt to keep your heart beating in time with the flickering light of your love. Instead, you dropped your gaze to your lap, hoping she wouldn’t see.

“If we survive, you must let her go,” she said, “you are tearing yourself into tiny pieces all for the sake of a woman who only sees you as a means to an end.”

“How? How do I do that?” you asked.

It felt like an impossible task.

“Accept how you feel then release it out into the universe. Stop holding on to it so tightly,” she said, “accept that you exist beyond these feelings. That you are more than them.”

“How do I rewrite the only truth I’ve had since I was a teenager?” you asked.

“You’re not rewriting. You’re evolving.”

She let your face go as another tear slipped free. Her fingertips caught it, brushing the wetness from the skin of your cheek. Taking in a deep shuddering breath, you finally let yourself meet her gaze.

“I’m scared,” you admitted.

“All the important things scare us,” she said, “you’re strong enough to do it anyway.”

“How do you know?” You needed to hear it.

“You’re still here. You’re still walking the Road. Under the pressure you’re not cracking. You’re turning into a diamond,” she said.

“Not coal?” you asked.

“You’re not going to burn yourself out,” she said.

“Is that a prophecy?” you asked, finally letting yourself smile.

“No,” she said, “it’s just common sense.”

She stood, offering you a hand. You took it, letting her pull you to your feet. Returning to the fire, you sat in the spot you’d vacated. Jen offered you a smile and Alice passed you the flask she’d been drinking out of.

It might not be what you’d thought you’d get from walking the Witch’s Road, but maybe you were building something better. Maybe you’d come out of this adventure with a coven. A family. And maybe that was the love you really needed.

[mariahcarreyyy]

Hi!!! I absolutely adore your writing!!! Could I please request prompt number 8 from the angst dialogue list for Charles Leclerc? Thank you!!!

# prompt no.8, "what do you want from me? to throw away all i've worked for?" // "all i'm asking for is your time."

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

Change was something you did not lightly graze over or dismiss with a nonchalant wave of your hand. It slowly seeped inside the cracks of your monaco apartment walls, finding solace in your discomfort. But once even a portion of it was there, there was no denying its presence.

Not when the dent of Charles' curves is no longer easy to trace; yours was everpresent, wallowing and growing familiar with the ache in your bones every time you'd wake up to an cold, empty bed.

Not when, despite being allocated time off from work, Charles had let his job consume him. Nipping at his heart and head, wrapped in a frantic worry of not living up to his potential. Lately, it was as if it held greater priority than the peace you'd once been able to bring him.

He's slouched on his chair, fingers tightly wrapped around the wheel of the simulator; his movements are jerky yet cautious, risky, yet he is all but willing. Standing at the burgundy doorframe, you felt like you'd regressed to the age of a toddler—thrashing in your father's hold, begging for an ounce of attention, of care.

"Charles?"

The word drifts away, following the breeze of the opened window, swirling in the starry night sky. He does not answer. That's fine, nothing new. Your lips part to the shape of his name again, timid and picking dutifully at your fingertips. An exhasperated huff escapes his mouth, latching on to the side of his headphones and not-so-lightly placing them on the table.

With gritted teeth and a slight crane to his neck, barely allowing you to enter his peripheral vision, he mutters, "Yes, y/n?"

"Dinner's ready," you house your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting patiently for the dismissive 'not hungry right now' that would roll off his tongue in mere moments.

And Charles does not fail you or your expectations. He motions a hand to his simulator, sending you a pitiful excuse of a sorry smile that makes your palms furl into fists.

"Charles, I said—"

"I know what you said, mon amour," he sighs, and the pet name feels foreign on his tongue and bitter to your ears. "'Can't leave the sim."

Any shame you have left dwindles next to your bruised ego and non-existent dignity.

"One dinner, Charles, 'won't even take twenty minutes out of your day." Your voice is small, directed towards the back of his head, satisfaction pricking at your heart when his hands freeze, sending him crashing through the virtual track.

Desperate, do you even care anymore?

Abruptly, he stands up, arms extended on the table, to steady himself. The shift in atmosphere made you gnaw at your lip harder, and the metallic crimson made you wince. Your feet are glued to the floor.

Charles turns, standing up right to face you. He looks normal, you realize. You've been trying to figure out how to breathewithout him near you, and he looks normal.

"What do you want from me? To throw away all I've worked for?" He raises a predatory brow, malice dripping from his tongue. "Eat, y/n. I'll probably order something later, but I'm not wasting my time with—with."

He makes a vague gesture with his hand.

With you, is left unspoken.

"All I'm asking for is your time." You meet his hard stare and refrain from cowering at the sight. "But it's obvious you don't give a fuck to at least give me that."

You don't run, but you'd never walked so frantically out of a room before. A small part of you is waiting for Charles to scurry behind you, shouting a 'wait! wait, y/n!'. Which would probably not grant him immediate forgiveness but perhaps warm the shivers coursing through your body.

He doesn't.

[eu-nicola]

not yours part 3

summary: Rafe Cameron is the perfect boyfriend… but not yours, but Sofia’s. However, fate plays against you when you become the only person capable of understanding him in his darkest moments. What begins as a dangerous friendship soon becomes an attraction impossible to deny.

warnings: cheating maybe (yes)

word counter: 8960

author’s note: english is not my first language, penultimate part

tags: @xcinnamonmalfoyx @immyowndefender @tmlinsito

The days began to change subtly, as if something in the air had become different. Rafe was moving away from Sofia, but not in an obvious way. At first, they were small details that went unnoticed: messages that arrived late, plans that were cancelled with a vague excuse, and an increasingly frequent absent look.

Sofia, always sure of her relationship, tried to justify it. Maybe he was busy, maybe he needed time for himself. But with each passing day, the uneasiness grew in her, until she could no longer ignore it. There was something that didn't fit, a distance that wasn't there before.

One afternoon, while they were at your house, you noticed how his gestures had changed. His eyes no longer shone with the same confidence as before, and his hands nervously played with the cup of coffee. Although she tried to appear calm, the weight of doubt was wearing her down.

In silence, you listened to his words. She told you what had been going on: the distance, the excuses, the feeling that Rafe was somewhere else even when they were together.

Guilt settled in your chest. You knew that you had contributed, however silently, to that gap that now existed between them. Ever since that night when you almost crossed a line with Rafe, everything had changed. You had done everything you could to distance yourself, avoiding encounters, making excuses not to be around them. But the truth kept chasing you, and it seemed to be catching up with Rafe too.

Sofia tried to understand it, justify it, find a reason that would give her peace. But there was none. Rafe was distant because his mind was stuck somewhere else… or someone else.

“He’s always been so attentive to me,” she began, searching your eyes as if she could find an answer in them. “But now… now I barely feel him around.”

He asked you for advice, but you drew a blank. What could you say to him? The words seemed to get stuck in your throat, unable to come out.

You tried to comfort her. You told her that maybe it was a phase, that all couples go through difficult times. You assured her that Rafe loved her, even though your own words sounded hollow to you. Sofia wanted to believe it, and you wanted her to, because facing the truth would be too complicated.

You hugged her, trying to convey a security you didn’t feel. You knew she trusted you, that she always had. But this time, you felt like you were betraying that trust, caught between loyalty to your friend and the emotions that tied you to Rafe.

When Sofia left that afternoon, you were left alone, with too many thoughts running through your mind. Guilt invaded you once again.

Later that same night, your phone vibrated. It was a text from Rafe.

“Can we talk?”

You stared at the screen, hesitating. You knew the right thing to do would be to ignore it, to keep the distance you had tried to establish. But something inside you, that attraction you had been denying, made you hesitate.

"I don't think that's a good idea," you finally wrote, trying to maintain the firmness that was already beginning to fade.

The answer came almost immediately. "Please."

Your phone screen remained lit with Rafe’s last message. “Please,” he had typed. Just two words that echoed in your mind, like an echo that refused to go away. You tried to ignore it, to remember all the reasons why you shouldn’t get involved, but something in you gave in. Something always gave in when it came to him.

Finally, you gave in. You texted him a brief “Okay,” and before you could think twice, he replied with a clear address. “Come to my house. Sofia won’t be in tonight.”

Guilt crawled under your skin as you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your keys. You knew you shouldn’t go, but your feet seemed to have a mind of their own. You walked through the door of your house, knowing that at the end of this night, nothing would get better.

When you arrived at the mansion, the air was thick, heavy with unspoken words and repressed feelings. Rafe was waiting for you at the entrance, his intense gaze fixed on you from the moment you got out of the car. You didn't say anything at first, just walked in with a firm step, as if the decision to go there didn't weigh on you as much as it actually did.

The door closed behind you with a dry sound, isolating you from the outside world, leaving you alone with him and with everything you had tried to avoid. Rafe led you to the living room, but the silence you shared was too tense to be comfortable.

"Why did you ask me to come?" you finally said, breaking the silence, your voice a little rougher than you had planned. You didn't want to smooth things over, because this time he had to hear the truth.

"Because I wanted to see you," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He came closer, crossing the distance between you as if there was no moral or emotional barrier separating you.

You took a step back. "You can't keep doing this, Rafe." It’s not right. Sofia is worried, and you just walk away from her without any explanation. It’s wrong what you’re doing.

He frowned, but he didn’t seem surprised. He was used to people telling him he was wrong, but he rarely cared.

“It’s not that simple,” he replied calmly, almost as if he didn’t want to argue.

“Yes, she is,” you insisted, crossing your arms in front of you like a protective barrier. “If you don’t want to be with her, tell her. Don’t leave her hanging, wondering what she did wrong.” Don't be a coward."

Your words were harsh, but honest. You couldn't stand to see Sofia suffer because of someone who didn't have the decency to be honest with her.

Rafe was silent for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. That look... that damn look that always seemed to pierce through you, read every corner of your thoughts.

"You think it's that easy?" he finally said, his voice low but laden with something deeper, something that seemed about to explode. "You think I don't know what I'm doing? But every time I'm with her, I only think about you."

Your breathing stopped for a second. You didn't expect him to say it, at least not so directly. You knew there was something between you, a tension you couldn't deny, but hearing it out loud made it all too real.

"That's not an excuse," you replied, though your voice trembled slightly. "Sofia doesn't deserve this, Rafe. She trusts you. She trusts me. We can't do this to him."

He came closer again, more determined this time, and you didn't pull away. His eyes searched yours, his face just a few inches from yours. You could feel his breathing, the heat radiating from his body, and your heart began to pound.

"I don't care," he murmured, with an intensity that completely disarmed you. "I don't care what I should do. All I want now is to be with you."

His confession fell upon you like a storm, dark and electrifying. You knew that at that moment you should walk away, get out of that house and leave it all behind. But your feet remained motionless, as if a part of you was also trapped in that forbidden desire.

"This... can't happen," you whispered, trying to hold on to the last shred of reason you had left.

Rafe raised a hand, gently brushing your cheek, and the contact made you close your eyes for a second. "But it's already happening," he said with a certainty that made you He shuddered.

You opened your eyes and took a step back, breaking contact. “No. I have to go.”

Rafe didn’t try to stop you this time, but the intensity of his gaze continued to haunt you as you walked away. Your steps felt heavy, as if leaving him behind required titanic strength. When you reached the door, you paused for a moment, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You knew the right thing to do was to walk away, but the desire you had tried to bury was awakening, and you couldn’t deny that something inside you was changing.

That night, when you finally returned home, you sat on your bed, your heart still pounding. You had distanced yourself from Rafe, but you knew that distance wouldn’t be enough to stop what was growing between you. And, for the first time, you realized that maybe you couldn’t control what you felt anymore.

The days that followed became a silent storm inside you. Every moment was a constant struggle between guilt, desire, and responsibility. You had managed to physically distance yourself from him that night, but the emotional burden remained, growing with every thought, with every furtive glance you remembered, with every heartbeat that quickened as you received his messages.

The hardest thing was being close to Sofia. You felt trapped in a labyrinth of contradictory emotions, having to be her support while your own stability was shaky. She trusted you, depended on you, and you did everything you could to be by her side. But every word of comfort you offered to her tore you apart a little more inside. How could you be a support for her when you yourself were on the verge of collapse?

You spent hours with Sofia, listening to her worries, her fears. Rafe had become distant, and she didn't understand why. He told you how things had changed between them, how every day he seemed further away, colder. And you knew it. You knew exactly why he was pulling away, and that knowledge weighed on you like a stone in your chest.

There were times when you wanted to tell her the truth, to confess what was going on, but the words died in your throat. You couldn't. You couldn't destroy her like that. So you stayed silent, nodded, and held her when she broke down in front of you, as if that was enough to keep her whole.

Until one afternoon, while you were at her house, Sofia surprised you with an idea you weren't expecting.

"I've been thinking about doing something special for Rafe," she began, with a smile that seemed forced but full of hope. "Something to help us reconnect. A romantic getaway, just the two of us. Something spontaneous, different."

Just hearing her talk about him that way made your stomach turn.

“Do you think that will work?” you asked, trying to sound neutral, even though you knew your voice betrayed some disbelief.

Sofia nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I think we need to get out of here, away from everything.” Maybe a change of scenery will help us remember why we're together in the first place."

You nodded slowly, not knowing what to say. The thought of the two of them, together, trying to save their relationship, should have relieved you, should have given you hope that everything would go back to normal. But it didn't. Instead, you felt a knot form in your stomach.

"I want you to come with us," he said suddenly, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

The surprise took your breath away. "What?"

Sofia looked at you with an almost pleading expression. "Yes, I want you to come. I know you've been distant lately, and I don't know why, but I think being in a different place will do you good. We could relax, have fun like before.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, processing his words. Going with them… on a romantic getaway. Being a third presence on a trip that should be just for the two of them. It all seemed absurd, out of place.

"I don't think it's a good idea." "I don't think so," you finally answered, trying to come up with a valid excuse. "It's a trip for you two, I have nothing to do there."

Sofia shook her head quickly. "It's not absurd. You're my best friend, and Rafe appreciates you too. Besides, it could be fun. I don't want you to be alone, and I know you're not at your best either." This could help us both.”

Her words left you speechless. Maybe for her, your presence would be a safety net of sorts, someone to lean on if things didn’t go her way.

And you… you were trapped. You couldn’t refuse without raising suspicion, without her wondering what was really going on.

“Okay,” you finally said, even though every fiber of your being screamed for you not to. “I’ll go.”

Sofia smiled, relieved, and you forced a smile in response. As Sofia began to talk excitedly about plans, you could only think about what was coming next.

From the moment you accepted Sofia’s invitation, you knew exactly what was going to happen. You had tried to ignore it, to pretend that maybe things would be different, that you could keep the emotional distance you had built with so much effort. But reality haunted you, and with each passing day, that certainty became harder to ignore.

Days later, as you absentmindedly checked your phone, Rafe's message appeared like a shadow you couldn't avoid:

"I can't wait to see you on the trip."

Your heart stopped for a second. There was no formality, no context, just that message, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to be eager to see you.

You didn't respond. It wasn't worth it. You would leave that message on read, buried among unimportant notifications, as if ignoring it could take away its weight.

And yet, you couldn't get it out of your head. Over the next few days, as you helped Sofia with the preparations for the trip, as you pretended to be excited about the getaway, that message was still there, latent, like a constant reminder of what awaited you.

Finally, the day of departure arrived. The chosen destination was a private island, a paradise hidden in the crystal-clear waters of somewhere not so far away. It was the kind of place only the rich and privileged could afford, with white sand beaches stretching as far as the eye could see, luxurious villas surrounded by lush vegetation, and a tranquility that seemed alien to the real world.

The plan sounded perfect. For Sofia, it was the ideal opportunity to reconnect with Rafe, to get away from everything that had been distancing them. For you, it was a gilded cage, a scenario where everything could go wrong.

You were nervous. You couldn't deny that the idea of ​​being so close to Rafe, sharing the same space, made you uneasy. Every time you thought about him, about his gaze, about the way he seemed to seek you out even when he shouldn't, a wave of anxiety ran through your body.

But you promised yourself that you wouldn't let it bother you. You wouldn't give it power over you. You wouldn't allow this trip to become anything more than what it was meant to be: a getaway with your friend, nothing more.

The day started early. Rafe picked you up with Sofia in his car, both ready to leave. Sofia was beaming, excited about the adventure that awaited them. You, on the other hand, kept a measured smile, trying not to let your thoughts betray you.

“Ready for a few days of paradise?” Sofia asked, with a smile that reflected all her excitement.

“More than ready,” you answered, with an enthusiasm that you didn’t quite feel. Your eyes avoided Rafe’s, who remained silent, driving with a calm expression.

The trip to the private port was short, but every second in that car made you feel as if the air became denser, heavier. Rafe didn’t say much, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

When they arrived at the port, a private yacht was waiting for them, ready to take them to the island. The luxury was overwhelming: an elegant vessel, with polished wood interiors, spacious rooms, and staff ready to attend to their every wish.

The trip on the yacht was as beautiful as it was uncomfortable. Sofia settled down on the deck, enjoying the sun and the sea breeze. You joined her, trying to relax, but you constantly felt Rafe’s gaze on you, as if he was waiting for something, as if the silence between you was a conversation in itself. 

When you finally arrived at the island, the place was even more stunning than you had imagined. The private villa was surrounded by palm trees, with an infinity pool that seemed to merge with the sea. From the balcony, the view was simply perfect: a clear horizon, the sky painted blue, and the sound of the waves like a constant melody. 

Sofia was delighted. “Look at this! It’s even better than I imagined.”

You nodded, pretending to be just as excited, while inside you tried to prepare yourself for what was to come. You knew you would be together, that you would share moments where the line between right and wrong would blur even further. And yet, you were there.

The afternoon passed in apparent calm. You swam in the pool, walked along the beach, tried to distract yourself with anything. But every time Rafe came closer, every time his presence became unavoidable, an electric current seemed to run through the air.

It wasn't the place, nor the time. It was him. It was what he provoked in you, that attraction that you had tried to deny but that grew stronger and stronger.

As night began to fall, you promised yourself that you would keep your distance. You wouldn't let anything happen. You wouldn't let it happen to yourself.

When night came, dinner was quiet, the table was set on the terrace, overlooking the beach and the moonlit ocean. The air was warm, and the sea breeze blew gently, filling the air with the soothing sound of waves breaking on the shore.

Sofia talked animatedly about the day, grateful for the trip she had planned. His voice had a mix of excitement and hope, as if this place could fix everything he felt was falling apart. Rafe, on the other hand, was more reserved, listening in silence, his gaze occasionally lost in the horizon or sometimes fixed on you for a few seconds that seemed eternal. 

You finished the last sip of your glass of wine when you decided it was time to leave them alone. Sofia had planned this trip to be with him, to reconnect, and you didn't want to be another obstacle. 

"I'm going to take a walk on the beach," you said in a casual tone, leaving the napkin on the table and standing up. You smiled slightly at Sofia. "I'll leave you two alone for a while." 

She looked at you with a mix of gratitude and relief. "Thank you." 

Rafe just nodded, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before returning to his plate. 

You didn't wait for an answer. You walked away from the table, crossing the terrace and descending the wooden path that led directly to the beach. The night air was cool and pleasant, and as you approached the sand, you felt each step take you a little further from the weight you carried.

The beach was completely empty, an endless stretch of white sand that sparkled under the moonlight. The sky was clear, and the stars seemed to flicker with an intensity you had rarely seen.

You walked slowly, letting your feet sink into the soft sand, enjoying the feeling of freedom that only this place could give you. The sound of the waves, the salty scent of the sea, the pleasant cold on your skin... everything seemed to conspire to offer you a moment of peace.

You stopped at a point where the shore met the tide, letting the water lap at your bare feet. You looked up at the sky, noticing the moon illuminating everything with its silver light. There was something comforting about its presence, something that made you feel less alone, less trapped in your own thoughts.

You had lost track of time on the beach, wrapped in that calm that you had needed so much. The sound of the waves, the reflection of the moon on the water, the coolness of the night... everything seemed to have conspired to stop the world for a while. You felt good, at peace, something you had not experienced for a long time.

You didn't know how much time you had spent there, alone, with your bare feet sunk in the wet sand and your gaze lost on the horizon. The world seemed so far away, and for a moment you allowed yourself to forget everything: the doubts, the tensions, the mixed emotions.

It was then that you heard footsteps behind you. Light, careful, as if the person approaching did not want to break the tranquility of the night. You didn't have to turn around to know who it was. You felt it before you saw it.

“Where is Sofia?” you asked, not looking at him, keeping your eyes fixed on the ocean that stretched out before you.

“Sleeping,” Rafe answered in a low voice, almost in a whisper that mixed with the sound of the sea.

His answer made you realize how long you had been there. Longer than you had imagined.

“Maybe I should go to sleep too,” you said as you slowly turned to look at him.

Rafe was standing a few feet away from you, his hands in his pockets and his gaze fixed on you. There was something different in his eyes, something softer, less tense.

“Will you stay with me for a moment?” he asked, his tone calm but with a nuance that made you hesitate.

You thought about it for a few seconds. You knew that staying was risky, that the line you had tried so hard not to cross could easily blur. But there was also something in his voice, in his gaze, that made you give in.

“It’s okay,” you finally replied, turning back to the sea as he came over and sat down beside you on the sand.

Silence settled between you, but this time it wasn’t awkward. On the contrary, there was something comforting about that shared stillness, as if you could finally be together without the weight of everything around you. For the first time in a long time, the usual tension was gone.

You both stared out at the ocean, letting the sound of the waves fill the space between you. There was no need to speak, no need to explain. You were just there, in that moment, sharing a pause amidst the chaos.

Suddenly, without warning, Rafe reached out a hand and splashed some water towards you. It wasn’t much, just a few drops, but enough to make you turn your head and look at him in surprise.

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, but unable to help a small smile.

Rafe smiled too, a genuine smile, free of the shadows he often carried. For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten everything.

“I couldn’t resist,” he replied in an amused tone.

You decided not to be left behind. You quickly stood up and ran towards the water, wetting your hands before spraying a jet directly onto his shirt. Rafe stood up immediately, with an expression of mock indignation.

“Now you’re in trouble,” he said, advancing towards you while you retreated, laughing, with the water caressing your feet.

What followed was a game, an improvised battle on the shore, with both of you splashing each other, laughing as if you were children. The worries, the tensions, the doubts... everything was left behind in those minutes when there was only the two of you and the ocean.

Rafe seemed different, freer, more alive. And you... you felt light, as if you had finally found a respite in the middle of everything. Laughter filled the night, and for an instant, everything was fine.

Finally, you both stopped, soaked and panting slightly from laughter and exhaustion. Rafe looked at you, his smile still present, and for a moment the world seemed to stop again.

“Do you regret staying?” he asked quietly.

You thought about it for a moment, looking into his eyes, still feeling the tickle of laughter in your chest.

“No... not this time,” you answered, letting the peace of that moment envelop you once again.

After that little water fight, the breeze became cooler and calm settled between you again. You both remained silent, sitting on the sand, watching the sky begin to take on soft tones with the arrival of dawn.

Rafe stood beside you, relaxed but silent, watching the horizon. Despite the peace that surrounded you, tiredness began to take hold of you. The night had been long, and although the moment shared with him had been unexpectedly pleasant, your body was asking for rest.

“I think that’s enough for today… I’m tired,” you murmured softly, breaking the silence as you slowly stood up, shaking the sand from your hands.

Rafe stood beside you, with that carefree air he always seemed to carry with him. He didn’t say anything, simply nodded and began to walk beside you towards the house. The walk was quiet, accompanied only by the distant sound of the waves and the song of the first birds that announced the morning.

When they reached the house, they both climbed the stairs in silence, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the soft creaking of the wood. In front of the door to your room, you stopped, giving him one last look before saying goodbye. But before you could say anything, Rafe moved a little closer, leaning towards you naturally.

His lips brushed your cheek in a soft, brief kiss. It was an unexpected gesture, almost innocent, but it left you completely taken aback. The warmth of his touch was marked on your skin for a few seconds longer than it should have.

“Good night,” he murmured in a low, calm voice, as if it meant nothing.

You didn’t know what to answer. For a moment, your mind went blank, searching for some meaning in that kiss you hadn’t anticipated. But before you could say anything, Rafe had already turned around and started to walk away, walking down the hall as calmly as he had arrived.

You closed the door behind you, leaning your back against it, feeling a mix of emotions you couldn’t define. You had spent the entire night trying to keep things under control, reminding yourself not to cross any lines. However, that small gesture—so simple and yet so full of meaning—had shattered the apparent calm you were trying to build.

You brought a hand to your cheek, as if you wanted to check that it had really happened. The kiss had been brief, but the confusion it left in its place seemed endless. You didn't say anything, because at that moment, not even you knew what it meant.

When morning came, the sun shone brightly, illuminating the landscape imposingly as the fresh morning air swept through the palms of the tall palm trees surrounding the house. However, inside you, there was a palpable tension, as if everything that had dissipated the night before had returned to its natural state, denser than ever.

Rafe seemed as distant as ever, but now, every glance, every gesture on his part, caused a knot in your stomach. The kiss on your cheek seemed to have awakened something in him, although you didn't know exactly what.

You were all together in the kitchen, preparing breakfast while the sound of the coffee maker filled the space with its comforting aroma. Sofia was animated, chatting about trivial things, oblivious to what was really happening between you and Rafe. She seemed completely immune to the atmosphere that had changed between the three of you. You laughed with her, mechanically responding to her comments, but everything in you was distracted, focused on the small space you shared with Rafe. 

He moved around the kitchen with that same calmness as always, but there was something in his attitude that got on your nerves. He gave you fleeting glances, not with the same nonchalance as before, but as if he were evaluating something that he himself could not understand. But he didn't say anything, and neither did you. 

Sofia didn't notice anything. She was absorbed in the conversation, asking if you wanted to go out to explore the place after breakfast, always so cheerful, so oblivious to the discomfort that was beginning to form a thick layer between you and Rafe. Sometimes, it felt like the friendship you and Sofia shared was cracking with each moment you spent alone with him.

You sat down at the table, trying to ignore how uncomfortable the air around you felt. Rafe finally broke the silence, speaking calmly, as if nothing had happened, as if everything was fine. 

The conversation continued as if nothing had happened. Sofia was delighted, oblivious to everything, and you simply tried hard to go with the flow. 

The rest of the day passed like a routine, but one that felt forced and artificial. You were with them, yes, but you felt distant, as if an invisible cloak separated you from Sofia and Rafe. 

When you found the atmosphere becoming uncomfortable or you felt trapped, you took the opportunity to escape. You went out to the garden or to the beach, walking aimlessly, breathing deeply to clear your mind. You needed those moments of solitude, those moments when you could calm your thoughts and get away from the chaos that formed when the three of you were together. 

Despite your escapes, Sofia seemed to be calmer, happier even. Her eyes sparkled as she talked about Rafe, and she enthusiastically told him how everything in the relationship seemed to be improving. The trip, apparently, was helping, as she said. Sofia's smile was easier to see, and the small tensions between her and Rafe seemed to have dissolved, at least in his presence.

At night, while Sofia and Rafe stayed in the house, laughing, or simply cozying up together in front of a movie or on the terrace, you left early. You didn't want to be there, you didn't want to be the spectator of something you couldn't control, that you didn't know how to handle.

Despite the apparent normality that Sofia and Rafe achieved in the moments they spent together, Rafe always came back to you, and no matter how much you tried to escape the tension that was brewing between the two of you, he found a way to get close again, as if there was something inside him that he couldn't ignore.

It was in those moments that you felt that strange mix of attraction and frustration, when he sought you out in those small moments of silence or in the casual exchanges that never seemed to be casual. You felt it in the way he looked at you, that intense gaze that you sometimes avoided, but that you couldn’t help but notice. Every time your eyes met his, the world around you seemed to disappear, leaving you alone with that warm but dangerous feeling that invaded your chest.

He did it without saying a word, just with his presence. Sometimes it was a simple gesture, like when he passed by you and his arm brushed yours, or when he asked you something in a low voice, just enough for you to hear. Other times it was more obvious, when he asked you to accompany him to a secluded corner or when, for no apparent reason, he stayed by your side for longer than necessary, as if he enjoyed the discomfort it caused. 

Even when you tried not to pay attention to him, he kept coming back. You saw it in his messages, the ones he sent with a disturbing naturalness, as if it were normal after everything that had happened. Sometimes you answered them, other times you simply read them and left them unanswered. But he kept looking for an excuse to get closer, always in those moments when you thought you had finally gotten far enough away. 

It was as if, despite everything that was between you, he couldn't stop coming back. And you, even though you tried to fight your own feelings, couldn't help but feel like he knew it too. He knew that, somehow, you always came back to him. And the worst of all was that, even though you tried to resist, you felt attracted too. 

The next day, it was one of those afternoons where the heat of the sun was beginning to wane, and the breeze coming from the sea made the walk more pleasant. You, Rafe and Sofia were walking along a path next to the beach, enjoying a landscape that seemed straight out of a postcard. Sofia, with her usual energy, was talking non-stop with Rafe. They walked slightly ahead of you, while you stayed a few steps behind, distracted by your phone, answering messages and scrolling through social media without paying too much attention to the conversation. 

You weren't really there. Or at least, that's what you tried to be. It was easier this way, less complicated. 

At one point, Sofia stopped to look at some stones that had caught her attention. He walked away a few meters, bending down to pick up a small shell that was shining in the sun. He took the opportunity to take some photos, always attentive to such things.

Meanwhile, Rafe didn't waste a second. He looked down at the ground and saw a small wild flower growing next to the path. It was simple, with white petals and a yellow center, nothing special, but enough to catch his attention. He quickly bent down and plucked it. At first you thought he was going to give it to Sofia, like any boyfriend would do at that moment. It was logical, what anyone would have expected.

But no. It wasn't Sofia he gave it to.

It was you.

Rafe turned slightly and handed you the flower with a disconcerting calm, as if that gesture meant nothing, but in fact it said everything. His eyes met yours for a brief second, a second that seemed longer than it should have been. He didn't say anything, there was no need. You looked at him, surprised, and he just smiled with that expression that seemed to challenge you, that seemed to know exactly what he was doing. 

For a moment, your mind went blank. You didn't know how to react. You couldn't reject it, but you couldn't openly accept it either. So you took the flower, your fingers brushing his for just an instant. The contact was as brief as it was significant. 

With the flower in your hand, you quickly looked over to where Sofia was, making sure she hadn't seen anything. She was still distracted with the shell and the photos, not paying attention to what was happening between you. Your heart was beating a little faster than normal, as if the simple act of receiving that flower was a secret you shouldn't share. 

Not knowing what to do with it, you put it in the back pocket of your shorts, hiding it, but not throwing it away. You didn’t want to get rid of it, even though you knew you should.

You continued walking down the path until you finally arrived back at the house. The sun was beginning to descend on the horizon, tinting the sky in golden and pink hues, creating a perfect atmosphere for a quiet afternoon.

Sofia was the first to propose that you stay outside, on the sand, to enjoy the sunset. You and Rafe agreed, and the three of you settled down on a blanket spread out near the porch. A small cooler with beers sat to one side, and you each took one to relax as the day slowly gave way to night.

The sound of the sea was constant, a soft murmur filling the air.

You sat cross-legged, the cold beer in your hands and the small flower Rafe had given you earlier resting on your knee. At first, you tried not to pay too much attention to it, but before you knew it, you started playing with it. Your fingers gently twirled it, bending the petals, as if you were absorbed in your own thoughts.

Rafe was sitting next to you, closer than you should be comfortable with, but the truth was that you had stopped caring about the closeness. Without saying anything, he looked away at you, watching as you manipulated the flower. His eyes followed the movement of your fingers with an attention that was not casual. It wasn't the flower that interested him, it was the fact that you had kept it. That small gesture meant something, even if neither of you mentioned it.

For her part, Sofia seemed completely oblivious to the subtle tension that was forming between you. She talked about how relaxing it was to be there, about how the trip was helping to disconnect from everything. You nodded and smiled when appropriate, but in reality you were caught up in your own thoughts.

The afternoon passed slowly, between scattered conversations and the constant opening of beers. When it was finally time to eat, they decided to stay outside. Rafe lit a small improvised campfire, and they ate there, with the cool night air beginning to envelop them.

After eating, Sofia was the first to suggest getting into the water. You thought the idea was a good one. There was something liberating about submerging yourself in the sea under the dim light of the night sky. You took off your clothes, leaving you in your bikini, and walked into the water. 

Rafe watched you from where he was sitting, his eyes following you in a way he hadn't done so openly before. It wasn't the first time he'd seen you in a bikini, but this time there was something different in his gaze. An intensity that wasn't there before, an attention that was now impossible to ignore. 

It didn't bother you. You could feel his gaze on you, but you decided not to give it any importance. You weren't looking for his attention, or at least, that's what you told yourself. You entered the water, letting the freshness of the sea envelop you, trying to disconnect, to forget for a moment everything that was happening. 

Soon after, Rafe joined you. He swam close, not enough to invade your space, but close enough that his presence was unavoidable. The moonlight was beginning to reflect off the surface of the water, and the atmosphere felt strange, almost unreal. Sofia, meanwhile, stood on the shore, laughing and playing with the waves that barely touched her feet.

Rafe watched you silently, as if he were debating something internally. But he didn't say anything. And neither did you. You just floated there, in that moment suspended in time, where everything seemed about to change, but nothing did.

It was close to 1 a.m. when Sofia decided it was time to go to sleep. She got up, drying her feet and shaking the sand off her legs before approaching you.

"I'm going to bed," she told you.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. You were tired, and that whole day had been confusing enough that you wanted to finally disconnect.

"Yeah, I think I'm going too," you answered, slowly getting up as Sofia called Rafe to join her as well.

He was sitting on the sand, his eyes fixed on the dark horizon of the sea, as if he were lost in some deep thought. He turned his head towards her, with a calm expression, and simply said:

“I'll stay a little longer.”

Sofia didn't insist. She smiled and disappeared towards the house, leaving only her footprints in the sand. You followed her with your gaze, with the firm intention of doing the same, of returning and closing the day. But when you took a step towards the house, something inside you made you stop.

You turned slowly, your bare feet returning to the cold sand, and without saying anything you returned to the water. You didn't want to think too much about what you were doing. The water was calm, a dark expanse that blended with the sky, and when you entered, the cold ran through your skin, waking you up completely.

Rafe saw you return. He didn't ask anything. He simply stood up and followed you, entering the water beside you. The silence between you was thick, but not uncomfortable. There was a different energy, a tension that needed no words.

You felt him close, his presence inescapable. You wanted to ignore him, to keep your distance, but every fiber of your being was aware of him. His eyes searched for you in the darkness, and you, despite everything, avoided looking directly at him.

Until you couldn’t take it anymore. You felt his hand reach out to you, his fingers brushing your arm with a softness that was almost imperceptible, but enough to make you stop. You didn’t move away. You let him touch you because, deep down, you wanted him to.

Rafe approached slowly, the water barely reaching the height of his hips when he took you by the waist, with a firmness that you hadn’t expected, but that you didn’t reject. You stood still, your breathing getting heavier, the air between you getting thicker.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured, his voice low, barely audible over the sound of the waves.

You heard him, but you didn’t respond. Not because you didn’t have something to say, but because you didn’t want to break the moment. His words were a confession you’d been waiting for, even though you were afraid to hear them.

And then, without warning, Rafe kissed you. It was a kiss that didn’t seek permission, that didn’t hesitate. His lips found yours with a need you’d felt in yourself for days, but had repressed.

And you… you let him. Because you couldn’t take it anymore. Because you wanted it.

The kiss was intense, charged with everything you’d both been repressing. His hands slid down your back, pulling you closer, as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The water surrounded you, cold and silent, but everything about you was fire, heat, desire.

After what seemed like an eternity, you parted slightly, your breaths mingling, your foreheads resting against each other. You didn’t say anything, and neither did he.

They stepped out of the water in silence, their bare feet leaving small footprints in the wet sand. Rafe led you to a dark corner, out of reach of the light coming from the house, where the night seemed more private, more his.

He gently laid you down on the cold sand, his body leaning over yours, but with a gentleness you hadn’t expected. His eyes searched for you in the dim light, and you whispered to him:

“No one’s ever kissed me the way you do.”

These words pierced him. He had no answer. And he kissed you again, and you let him, once again.

The night became denser when the kiss ended. You slowly separated from Rafe, your lips still trembling from the contact, and your eyes, full of emotions you couldn't contain, closed for a moment as you felt silent tears fall down your cheeks.

You didn't want to cry, not like that, not in front of him. But you did. It was inevitable. Guilt and desire intertwined in your chest, drowning you.

Rafe noticed it right away. Without saying anything, his fingers gently brushed your face, drying one of those tears, as if that gesture could erase everything that was going through you.

"I feel bad..." you whispered with a broken voice, barely a murmur that the sound of the sea almost drowned out.

You regretted it. Not just the kiss, but everything that had led up to that moment. Of having let yourself go. Of having crossed a line that you swore you would never cross. Sofia was asleep just a few feet away, trusting you, him, and you had broken that trust.

“I shouldn’t have… we shouldn’t have done this,” you added, your gaze fixed on the ground, unable to meet his eyes.

Rafe didn’t look away from you. You could feel his attention, that intensity that always seemed to envelop him, as if the rest of the world didn’t matter when you were around. He placed a firm hand on your cheek, gently forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t feel bad,” he said in a low, serious voice. “I need you more than you know.”

His words were simple, but heavy with weight. You stood still, your thoughts teetering between what was right and what you wanted. You didn’t want to hear that, but at the same time, you had longed for it.

“If this is what you want, I’ll leave Sofia. I’ll do whatever it takes.” His eyes searched yours, looking for an answer, a sign that you could accept what he was willing to offer you.

You shuddered at that. It wasn’t what you wanted, at least not like this. Sofia was your friend, an important part of your life, and you knew how much it would hurt her. The last thing you wanted was to destroy her, to take away something she still believed was hers.

“No…” you answered, shaking your head with a mix of firmness and desperation. “You can’t do that. I don’t want Sofia to suffer. She deserves to be happy.”

Rafe sighed, his frustration evident, but he didn’t let go of you. He moved a little closer, as if his words could convince you.

“You have to be happy too,” he replied with determination. “What about you? Why are you always thinking about everyone but yourself?”

You didn’t know what to say. Because, deep down, you knew he was right. You had spent so much time worrying about others, about keeping Sofia happy, about protecting the friendship, that you had forgotten about yourself, about your own wants and needs. But at what cost?

“I don’t know…” you admitted quietly, feeling each word cost you more.

Rafe leaned closer to you, his eyes locked on yours, his voice softer now, almost whispering:

“When we get back, I’m going to leave her. I can’t keep pretending. I can’t keep walking away from you.”

His words shook you. It was a statement you had feared and hoped for at the same time. Your heart was pounding, while your mind struggled to find an answer, a way out that wouldn’t hurt anyone. But you knew there wasn’t an easy one.

You stayed silent, letting the night breeze wash over you, while Rafe was still there, his hands still on you, his presence unwavering.

The next few days in that paradise you had longed for became a kind of torture. A sweet and bitter torture that seemed to have no end. Every morning, every afternoon, every night, Rafe found a way to get close to you, to seek you out with the slightest excuse. A touch of hands when Sofia wasn’t looking, a look loaded with meaning as you walked together, a stolen kiss in the shadows when the moment allowed it.

You couldn’t help it. He was constant, persistent. He knew exactly how to attract you, how to make you lower the defenses you had built up so much.

One afternoon, while you were on the terrace, watching the calm ocean, Rafe approached with something in his hand. Without saying anything, he placed it in your palm. It was a ring, delicate and beautiful. You looked at it, bewildered.

“Why are you giving me this?” you asked him with a lump in your throat, your fingers closing around the ring.

He didn’t respond with words. She just looked at you, with that mix of desire and determination that worried you so much, as if she were marking a silent promise. You didn't understand why she had it, or why she had given it to you, but there it was, in your trembling hand.

The days passed, and you felt more and more trapped. The sun, the sand, the sea breeze, everything that had seemed perfect to you before now suffocated you. You wanted to go home, return to the routine, to the family chaos, to anything that would allow you to escape this dilemma. Because at home, perhaps, you could separate from Rafe.

Not because you didn't want to, not because his kisses didn't burn your skin or his gaze didn't make you tremble. But because you knew it wasn't the right thing to do.

Sofia was still by your side, oblivious to everything, excited about this trip that she thought was saving her relationship. And every time she looked at you with a grateful smile, you felt the weight of your actions sinking you deeper.

Rafe, on the other hand, didn't seem to feel that weight. He looked for you every moment, as if nothing else mattered. As if he was sure that everything would end well, that when he returned, his life would change, with you by his side. But you didn't share that certainty. You couldn't.

But it didn't matter how much you wanted to deny it. It didn't matter how many times your reason screamed at you that you had to stop, that this wasn't right. Because at the end of the day, none of that seemed enough. You still loved Rafe.

You loved him with an intensity you hadn't felt before, a force that dragged you every time you were near him. It didn't matter how much you told yourself that you had to be strong, that you had to get away. Every time he looked for you, every time he looked at you with those eyes full of desire, you fell again.

His kisses were a trap you didn't want to escape from. His hands on your skin were an anchor that kept you in a place where logic and morality faded away. You liked how he made you feel, how he loved you, how he seemed so sure of what he wanted, of what he wanted with you.

And you... you wanted it too. You wanted it from the first kiss under the shade, from that flower you kept in the back pocket of your shorts. You wanted it from the first touch you shared in secret. You wanted him.

Rafe loved you too. He didn't say it in words, but he showed it to you every time he found a way to be alone with you. In every furtive glance, in every caress when Sofia wasn't there, in every moment when his lips urgently sought yours. He liked loving you. He liked the power you had over him, the way his thoughts revolved around you, leaving everything else in the background.

You knew it was wrong. You knew that every kiss you shared, every moment his hands sought you out, took you further away from what was right, from the loyalty you owed Sofia. But you also knew you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.

Every night, when the world fell silent, you thought about it. About how you had crossed that invisible line and how there was no turning back. You were trapped in a dangerous game that neither of you seemed to want to leave. And even though a part of you felt guilty, another part—the one that flared up every time you were with him—didn’t want to let go.

Because in the end, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you should stop. No matter how much your reason screamed at you. You still loved Rafe. And the worst thing was that he loved you too, and that made it impossible to stop.

[charliemwrites]

Soooo a while ago I introduced a “rabid reader.” A reader character with a (non-sexual) body count and a nasty temper.

Anyway, I started thinking about her - and the discord does what it does - and realized that Pathetic Stalker Konig would be a great pairing for her.

So, CW for light stalking, violence, and slightly mean reader

You have a stalker.

He’s… not a very good one.

For one, you know he’s there. Have known since pretty much the beginning. He’s a big fucking Austrian that covers himself head to toe. Not even in subtle colors, but in primarily black. Maybe at night he’d stand a chance, but he follows you in broad daylight too. So, there’s that.

Then there’s the fact that you’re not really bothered by him. What’s there to be bothered by? He keeps his distance, doesn’t interfere with your life. Even when he finally does work up the courage to enter your home, he puts things back where he found them. So, again, not a big deal.

You keep waiting for the escalation. For gifts or letters or some obvious sign of his presence that even the most oblivious person couldn’t ignore. But none comes. Partially, you figure, because you’ve shown no interest in anyone. You have friends, yes, but those are so obviously platonic that even your stalker doesn’t seem jealous. And the few times someone else has made a pass at you, a quick and merciless shutdown follows. Your lack of romantic intentions for anyone seems to be coming him semi-level.

You wonder if this is how religious people feel, that vague sense of being watched. Though you don’t think your stalker is judging you. Be a hell of a thing if he did.

Then one day, things change.

You have this new coworker, Brandon.

Your other coworkers already seem to like him. They say he’s funny and charming and handsome, that he’s such a great fit for the team. You have no particular opinion because most people just aren’t interesting to you, and Brandon is Most People incarnate.

But Brandon seems to have an interest in you. Which, really, is such a poor choice.

He keeps ending up in the break room at the same time as you. Or passing by your desk for a quick question, only to try to lengthen the conversation with the casual chat. Makes a point of saying hello to you in the mornings and walking down with you in the afternoon.

You’re not annoyed yet, not really. It’s a change in your routine, but you’ve been told those are good, so fine. He’s about as bearable as anyone else (besides the rare few you call friend) so you don’t think anything of it. Even when your coworker giggles that he was asking after your romantic life, you tolerate him.

A few months later is the annual office party, a celebration of… something. It seems different every time. Record profits, company anniversary, CEO’s birthday… it doesn’t matter, really. Free food, socialization. It’s something to do.

You go, of course. As ambivalent as you are towards the majority of your coworkers, they do seem to quite like you, and insist that you come.

So you go. You plaster on that mild, practiced smile while they chat and joke, contributing readily when prompted. At the end of the meal, you’re wheedled into going out for more casual celebration. Again, you agree.

Brandon comes along.

And somewhere, throughout the night, Brandon thinks it’s okay to start touching you. An accidental brush here and there is fine, unavoidable really. You’re not opposed to touch as a rule.

But then the occasional bumps and grazes become more frequent, consistent. Purposeful. A hand on your arm, then your shoulder, then your back. When you step away, he somehow ends up right back by your side. So you resort to telling him not to touch you so casually. He scoffs, already past a healthy buzz, and dismisses you as being “uptight” because you’re still treating it as a “work thing.” That you just need some more drinks in you and everything will be fine.

You can feel it bubbling up in you, that inky rage. Maybe something flickers across your face because your coworkers are quick to divert his attention. Smart.

But twenty minutes later you’ve had your fill of socializing. The bar is too loud, people are getting too drunk, and you don’t like the looks you’re getting from more than just Brandon.

You say your goodbyes while he’s in the restroom and leave.

You’ve only just made it to your car when you hear quick footsteps, turn just in time for Brandon to catch up. It’s all just noise to you now, his tense laughter that you left at the worst time, that you’re mean for not waiting. That he wants to walk you to your car like always.

He tries to curl an arm around your waist. It takes restraint you don’t usually employ not to break it. To just step away and repeat (fuck you hate repeating yourself) that you don’t want to be touched.

And then he makes the fatal mistake of just not fucking listening. Of insisting. Of doing what he wants anyway.

So you break his hand. And while he’s still screaming in pain, you notice the shadowy flicker of your stalker ducking out of view.

It’ll stay your secret, you figure, and go home. Expect that to be the end of it.

Until you hear glass break when you’re just about to go to bed. You step out of your room, shoes on and knife in hand, to a fuck-off sized Austrian strangling Brandon. Oh, and stabbing him with a large piece of the lamp someone seems to have broken.

There’s water all over the floor because it started raining an hour ago. It’s mixing with the blood, diluting it pink on your floor. You retrieve a towel from the kitchen to mop it up before it reaches the rug.

All at once, things go quiet. Your stalker is kneeling over a still, dead-eyed Brandon, breathing hard. But his eyes keep flicking to you and then away, shoulders slumped and head ducked.

“You’ve made a mess. Clean up.”

Your stalker jumps into action. Seems to already know where all the housekeeping supplies are. In the meantime, you go digging through your closet for clothes. Can’t find any, so you settle for getting the washer and dryer ready. Order yourself a new lamp online.

By the time you’re done, the body is gone, the floors are clean and dry, and your stalker is fidgeting in the living room.

“Strip.”

He startles. Stares. You arch your eyebrows. Wait him out. But then he does as he’s told. Peeling off cold, wet layers with mechanical precision, until he’s got a damp pile at his bare feet. You give his mask an unimpressed look. That comes off too with an audible gulp.

You don’t really get attractiveness, as a physical quality. You understand proportions and features, and recognize that this man has some pleasing, if atypical, ones. Even with the scar.

“Good.” He shivers. “Now shower.”

He nods, ducks past you to the bathroom - again without having to be told where to find it. You gather up the clothes and toss them in the machine with a little extra detergent.

Walk into the bathroom and ignore the way he tries to cover himself, flushing tomato red from head to toe.

“Your name.”

“Konig.”

You narrow your eyes, but don’t press.

“Are you military?”

He’s built like it. Thick with useful strength, not aesthetic muscle. And he’s scarred all over. Some new, some old, all earned through violence and suffering.

“Military contractor,” he says. Then, quieter, “please don’t stare.”

Your eyes snap up to his. He can’t even hold it for longer than a second before dropping his gaze. You cross your arms.

“You’ve been watching me for 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days. Put your fucking hands down.”

He twitches, but drops his hands to his sides. His cock - and it is, you acknowledge, very impressive - is filling out slowly but steadily. You consider it for a moment while he fidgets beneath the steaming spray.

“If you fuck me, will you be satisfied?” you ask.

Like touching, you’re not against fucking by default. It’s just one of those things you don’t think about often because you’re not especially interesting in most cases.

This - Konig - is not most cases.

But konig’s eyes dart up guiltily before he shakes his head. Surprised, you tilt your head.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

He nods so hard the back of his skull bumps into the shower head.

You hum. Stand there and watch him while he awkwardly shuffles until the washer buzzes.

“Finish showering, get your clothes from the dryer, then sleep on the couch,” you say. He swallows again and nods. “You can get blankets if you’re cold. Be here in the morning.”

With that, you turn to switch his clothes over. Then head off to bed, wondering if you’ll see him come sunrise.

Next

Masterlist

[urlovebot]

hc for what Bada would be like when she’s pursuing you? Extra points if the reader is a lil oblivious and Bada’s just like ‘this girl is mine she doesn’t even know it lololol’

this is so cute thank u for this idea 🫂🫶🏼

bada is so in love with you and IS SO OBVIOUS ABOUT IT

it starts out really sweet and bada is just softer with you than she is to others.

you took one of her classes, loved the way she taught and her dance style, so you naturally began to attend more.

you really wanted to improve on your own dancing so you were taking her classes to learn more.

slowly bada started to notice you becoming more of a regular

when you walked in the doors to her class, she'd send you a small wave

eventually she asks for your name, you squeak it out, and she falls in love immediately

she just thinks you're so cute she wants to shrink you and put you in her pocket

with each class she begins moving you closer to the front

if she notices you struggling with a move, she'll personally run through it with you and you alone.

"bada, why do you give me private lessons?"

and bada is EMBARRASSED LMFAO so she just says

"i think you have a lot of potential as a dancer"

internally facepalms but whatever.

you hang out outside of classes now, and she pays for everything

and then she starts buying things that remind her of you

accessories, clothes, shoes, little knicknacks

she spoils you so bad

when you guys go out, she's got her hand in yours, swinging your arms as you walk.

and now you guys are showing up to her classes together...

and now her students are badgering her about who you are

she gives a vague answer and keeps it pushing

you, none the wiser, just think she's being nice

do you think shes talented, fine, tall, and overall the full package?

yes

yes you do

BUT theres no way she's into you

that is until... uh she's dancing to takeout.

and right before she hits the floor-

she takes two fingers and points at you in a "come here" motion.

takes her fist, hits her hips with it twice, takes one last glance at you and starts basically fucking the floor

and you're like damn😳 maybe she does want me

after that class she makes you stay with her while she packs everything up.

you're just dying to ask her if she was pointing at you before she... she did what she did to that floor.

"yeah i was. why?"

DAMN U SAID THAT SHIT OUTLOUD LMFAOOOO

"i- why would-" *clears throat* "why were you pointing at me?"

bada just laughs, taking off her hat and putting it on your head.

"i'll see you tomorrow."

and then she just leaves you alone to process your thoughts.

and you do

you think for hours

and shit just starts to make sense

why she insisted on paying for everything. the way she kissed your hand whenever you guys were holding them. the way she'd stand behind you, hands on your hips while the guys from her classes would try to talk you up

it also made sense why during sleepovers she insisted you sleep in the same bed, bada's limbs entangled in your own. why she would wake you up with gentle kisses and make you breakfast in the morning

and you are just DUMBFOUNDED 😭😭 YALL BEEN DATING THIS WHOLE TIME

so you call her that very night and the first thing out of your mouth is-

"ARE YOU MY GIRLFRIEND???" and bada is just losing her shit on the other side

just cackling at you

"y/n... baby. yes. yes i am your girlfriend. we are girlfriends. we've been girlfriends for a little while now."

you're having a crisis and she just

"i'll come over there and we can talk about it. is that okay with you?"

"... yeah."

"good. i'll see you in 10. love you."

"love you too. WAIT-"

[yuzuki-ero]

Increased circulation

Gyomei x y/n (AFAB)

MDNI – Minor do not interact

Word count: 1300+

" " is dialogue

' ' is thoughts

Warning: involuntary erection, nudity, vaginal intercourse, internal ejaculation, size kink, embarrassing moments ,hook up

Ahem ahem pls be kind to me this is my first smut Did you know onsen weren't separated by gender in old jp?

"Ding dong ding dong"

The sound of the bell

The signal that the end of today has come

"Hhphew..." you nearly lay your tired body on the training grounds

After a long day of training, you decided to treat yourself to an onsen

You missed the group onsen yesterday because you were on your last day of periods

"Hm..."

You couldn't resist humming as you submerge yourself in the water, it's one of the most comfortable feelings in the world, along with the texture of freshly made mochi in your mouth

Your journey to dreamland were interrupted as you noticed the toned foot by the corner of your eye

a deep calm voice replied

"Hello"

"... ... ..!!!" it took you a while to recognize that voice

You sit up straight and bashfully make space for his size

"Ah... thank you"

You swear the pool level raised a little when he sits in it

"Ah, hm..."

- An uncomfortable moment of silence -

Your mind were racing a mile per minute

Nervous, due to your limited experience as a demon slayer

Frail, Weak, Ordinary and way too unskilled to find topics to talk about

Yet, you do want to become stronger

"Eh... Gyomei-sama?"

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me how do I get stronger?"

His stoic face breaks into a warm smile

"Sure thing, but why do you ask me? Aren't you under some Cultivator for your breathing style?"

"Because.... I want to look like you, I want to have the muscles that you have"

he could vaguely feel the shape of you from the ripples that reflects on the surface of the water from even your most subtle movements

"Hm... do you really want that? You're cute as you are, I think- "

"I think your body is reflective of your strength Gyomei-sama! I wish I could get stronger, like you do!"

And poor him, it's getting more vivid as you crawl closer to inspect and admire his features. You nearly touched his skin.

...............................................

'Is that supposed to be standing up?'

"Oh" you exhaled shakily softly when you noticed it and turned your face the other way

'It could be normal...' you thought as you draw circles in the water to calm your racing heart

You can tell without looking that Gyomei is bashfully crossing his legs to try to hide it somehow

'It's so big... maybe it's a sign of strength- BAHHH! what am I thinking! Stop right now!'

*splash splash*

You tried to hit any sort of sense back into yourself, with the onsen water, slapping your face, anything

'I bet I would choke on it- STOP! STOP IT'

"Uh- don't- don't drown yourself in the onsen, please..."

*gurgle bubbling noises*

He clap his hands together and chant "Name Amida Butsu..." as tears flows freely from his sightless eyes

…..

You eventually calmed down and sit beside him quietly

At a comfortable distance

But his- um

His erection is not coming down

“So… Is this like… uhhhhh…..”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to offend you”

“Is this part of the result of your training”

“What???”

“No? Oh… ok”

………...

You can’t help the way your eyes linger

It’s throbbing, it’s veiny, it’s moving to the currents created by the waterfall in this onsen

Your head was turned to the side but your pupils are glue to that trunk

You hoped it wasn’t too obvious- Himejima-sama is quite a gentle person, after all, from the way he speak so softly to everyone

But he can feel it, he was ‘staring’ at you too

“Himejima-sama…

Can I help you with that?”

His entire face was heated up with a fever blush down to his neck

“You’re so forward…!”

“Is that a yes or no, Gyomei-sama…”

*gulp*

“Yes” He nods

You scooted to sit closer to him, touching his skin, and hold his face

“May I…?”

He doesn’t reply, only squeezely shut his eyes tight, and lean in to start kissing you

His tongue lightly dabs on your bottom lip, and grazing your teeth

Which is met by your own tongue, receiving his techniques and ministrations

As your kiss stays connected, he lifted you by the hips, under the thighs, to straddle him

“Are you ready?”

“Ready? Ready for- oh… ready for that”

He bit his lip slightly it as it touches the inner your two thighs

“yes” He whimpered out desperately

He gasped as you grabbed his cock and instinctively get a hold of your hips

*gulp*

“Ah…” His mouth wobbles as you start to take him in, slowy

He feels so much but it was so good, he’s gritting his teeth and popping veins on his forehead and neck trying to hold back from setting his own pace

He’s even tearing up a little waiting for you

“Tight…” He hissed out under his breath

He lets out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding when you finally managed to let him sink into you as deep as you can

Your gasps and warmth eatting away at his restraint

He gently moved strands of hair out of your forehead, and held you close as you ground yourself for his size, caressing your arms and your sides, thoughtfully

“Ah…!” winds knocked out of his lungs when you started.

He tried his best to withstand it, his fists clench and release on to the decoration stone he was leaning on for support

It felt so good he wanted to thrust back with his own fervor

But Gyomei don’t want to hurt you, so he just sighs and blow air out of his mouth frequently in his best attempt to let you set the pace, but he hyperventilates so much people might think he’s about to pass out.

He bit his lips, pinch his thighs, flex his abs, anything to make sure he doesn’t start making decisions subconciusly

“Oh…Ah…” He almost congratulates his prayers that you finally starts to move faster

The water starts to spill out of the onsen from the impact you both were making

He grabbed your hips and move it to the pace you’ve set

It felt almost unreal-

Your hips in both of his hands- and that his member disappears in and out of you

Just fast enough to make his dick feel the tingles and goosebumps

“Can we go faster? Please…y/n?” He sniffled out, tears almost fall from the corner of his eyes

He’s so cute! You just want to give everything to this man

You put your hand over his, and say:

“Yes, please guide me”

Feeling your arms draped over his shoulders, he sits up and starts to bounce you off his hips

The water splashed out of the pool so much it’s flooding the surrounding floor

But he has stopped caring about that

Your skins met and clapped together the walls and doors counldn’t hide what you two were doing anymore

Not to mention the both of your faint moans that follows, in sync with each slap

Gyomei was salivating and losing his composure, with his half-lidded eyes and arch in his torso

“Ngh…gah-ah…” That was a raspy grunt of effort, and groan of pleasure,

But his speed is not faltering

In fact, it feels like it’s sped up 3 times more

“Y/n are- are you close too? I don’t think I can hold on much longer” 

He’s biting his lower lips, eyes wide, blushing and sweating all over his face

Goddamn

that’s the sexiest face you’ve ever seen

He starts to jack-hammering as soon as you nod- bulging his arms and wheezing through his teeth

You start to pant and gasps as he nails that G-spot inside you over and over while grazing all the other spots just from his girth alone

It took a few more strokes, before you finally-

“Ah…!”

You feel your pelvic floor tensing and squeezing on him hard in waves of tensing and relaxing

Then it was not long before you feel a surge of fluids busted and filled you on the inside

He pulled you to kiss softly before letting you rest on his body

As you ponder how your relationship with the stone hashira have changed

[adascore]

Captain Obvious

pairings: lionesses x lioness!reader

warnings: sarina scaring the hell out of us. fluff.

author’s note: I know this isn’t how captaincy is announced, but all of this is fictional anyway so it doesn’t even matter :)

masterlist

•••••

''Is everyone in?'' Sarina asked, scanning the room to ensure the complete attendance of the squad and necessary staff.

A few heads nodded at the manager. ''Good.'' The Dutchwoman concluded.

''Before we talk about the upcoming game against North Macedonia, I would like to say something else.'' Sarina began the team meeting, her gaze lingering on Y/N.

The player curiously turned her head to Mary, who was sitting next to her. The goalkeeper merely shrugged in response.

''I didn't want to do it like this, but I think this is the only way to get my message across… Y/N, can you please come stand next to me?'' Sarina's invitation sounded more like a demand, leaving the striker slightly confused at the stern tone.

Y/N hesitated for a moment but stood up, making her way to the front of the room as requested by Sarina.

Glancing at her teammates, she found it challenging to read their expressions. Some were nervously biting their nails, while others were avoiding eye contact altogether.

Strange, the striker thought.

Sarina maintained her serious tone, making Y/N's heart race with anticipation. ''We have noticed some issues lately…'' The room fell silent, everyone's eyes fixed on the player, who was growing more bewildered and scared by the second. She tried to recall any recent incidents that might have triggered this discussion.

''The communication on the pitch, the communication off the pitch, the passes, the attacks… it is all anyone has been talking about on this team.'' The coach's vague explanation was making her worried, because it implied people had been speaking about her to Sarina.

''It forced us to reassess your position in this team.'' The Dutchwoman continued, maintaining her stoic stone.

It was a difficult task to make the Lyon captain nervous, but Sarina was doing an amazing job so far. ''My… position… on the team?'' Y/N spoke slowly, not quite knowing what to make of all of this.

''Yes, we're sorry to tell you this,'' she turned towards Arjan, their assistant coach, who handed her something the player wasn't able to see, ''but you are our new, official captain.'' Sarina's expression did a complete 180, a big grin on her face.

The room erupted into cheers, her teammates bursting out laughing at the player staring at their coach in stunned disbelief.

''Wait, what?'' Y/N mumbled as Sarina handed her the captain's band.

''Did you really think I was going to kick you off the team?'' The older woman exclaimed, surprised her player actually fell for it.

Y/N awkwardly chuckled. ''I mean- you sounded super serious! You should become an actress or something.''

''Congratulations, captain!'' Her team engulfed her in a group hug, feeling pats all over her head.

''I was wondering why none of you were looking at me.'' The newly appointed captain said, everything making sense now.

''I was having such a hard time,'' Ella sighed, before glancing over at Mary, ''you were awful!''

''What? Tooney!'' The goalkeeper exclaimed, clearly offended.

Alessia chimed in. ''You kept hiding your face cause you couldn't contain your smile.''

''I'm just happy for my friend!'' Mary defended herself, trapping Y/N in her arms.

Some of the girls made ‘Awh'-noises, dramatically swooning over the striker-goalkeeper duo.

''Took you long enough to figure it out.'' Mary teased, a mischievous grin playing on her lips.

Y/N scoffed, slightly offended. ''How was I supposed to know?''

''I'm roomies with the captain.'' Alex proudly stated, her eyes sparkled with pride as she side hugged her roommate.

''That's not fair! Alex already has an advantage over everyone!'' Georgia interjected, loudly.

Y/N frowned. ''I've been captain for like 2 seconds, what are you talking about, G?'' She chuckled, befuddled by everyone's enthusiasm.

''You'll understand what I mean when she's suddenly being a lot nicer to you.'' Georgia explained, making wary eyes at the blond defender.

Lucy approached her and grabbed the captain's band from her hand. ''Come on, put it on.'' She held it open for her so Y/N could easily slide her arm through.

As soon as it was tightly attached to her arm, the entire room broke into cheers again.

''You wear it well, Skipper.'' Lucy teased with a playful grin.

She felt someone hugging her from behind. ''Congratulations, darling.''

''Thanks, Jill.'' The new captain smiled, glad her older teammate was happy for her.

Girls like Jill, Ellen, Alex, Lucy and Jordan had been there since she first joined the England team- it was a special moment for them as well to see their younger teammate take over the reins of the team.

''Congrats, sweetheart. You deserve this so much.'' Ellen embraced her, her fellow striker grinning from ear to ear.

''Thanks, El.''

''Speech! Speech! Speech!'' A couple of the girls (Ella, Georgia, Keira and Leah, to be specific) started chanting.

Y/N chuckled at the impromptu request for a speech, feeling the weight of the moment. She raised her hands, signaling for a moment of quiet amidst the cheers.

''Okay, okay!'' She began, a genuine smile on her lips. ''First of all, I want to thank Sarina, and whoever decided this, for giving me this huge honour, and for trusting me to lead this incredible team. I know to some people it's just a band, but I do feel a responsibility to lead by example and for me this means so much more.''

She paused, letting her words sink in. ''I joined this team when I was 18 years-old, and I've experienced so much already. I just want to thank all of you, and also the teammates that aren't here today, for making this such a beautiful group of people and for making this genuinely fun to do. I'm lucky to have you guys as my teammates.''

Her gaze swept across the faces of her teammates, feeling herself getting emotional. ''I will continue to do my best. This isn't just about me, it's about all of us. We're here to support one another and to enjoy all of this together.''

''I'm looking forward to the rest of the year, and it might be to early to say this, but fuck it,'' she chuckled, resulting in laughter from the entire room, ''this summer is ours!''

The meeting room echoed with applause, and somehow she ended up in the middle of a group hug.

Sarina and Arjan watched on as their team celebrated together, content smiled on their faces.

''This is the team.'' He told his boss, a confident tone.

The Dutchwoman nodded. ''This is the team.''