#after infinite darkness I catching feeling for him again

[dulcesiabits]

there is no heaven on earth except for you.

summary: you divorce nightowl and reconnect with him decades later.

notes: 1.2k words, divorce, suggestive content (implied sleeping together), inspired by several robobarbie drabbles (including one which i swore i read about a similar scenario but CANNOT find)

The ring glints between the two of you on the dining table, a shard of ice-cold diamond.

For a second, neither of you breathes.

And then you stand, and Nightowl looks down at the table listlessly, his bleached hair falling in front of his eyes.

“That’s it?” he asks quietly.

“That’s it,” you confirm. Your voice is flint and steel. Impenetrable. There’s no need to repeat the arguments that have been doggedly circling your apartment for weeks.

You’re not quite as young as you were when you got married, an impulsive decision that had felt so, so right at the time. His hand in yours. The two of you against the world. A ring he’d been saving up from the paycheck at his first architectural job.

You could have survived anything together. The end of the world. A national disaster. But somehow, it’s the small things that ended up tanking your relationship. The bills, the rent, the piling financial strains. The gratingly small habits. And the emotional insecurities, running deeper than you could possibly have begun to help him with.

It’s easy at first. You have infinite patience and love for Nightowl. You’ve promised to dedicate your life to him.

You can take it. The late nights, the constant need for reassurance, the desperate way he clings on to you, as if you’ll leave if he lets go. 

And then it becomes harder.

You grow older. You do your best. But nothing you do can reassure him, can save Nightowl from himself. It’s naive for you to think you could in the first place. You can’t love him enough to make up for deep wounds that tears him apart.

Like a sinking ship, you stay until the water is over your head, and now the both of you are drowning. 

“The lawyer will be in contact,” you say.

His shoulders shake, and his voice only wobbles slightly. “Okay.”

It’s for the best. That’s what you repeat to yourself as you stumble out into the elevator, down to your car. One day, you will be able to look back on this and forget it all.

—

Someone calls your name. A voice you haven’t heard in years, one that comes straight out of a dream.

“Hey,” he says. And you feel twenty five again, and all you can remember is the boyish smile and the bleached hair falling on your shoulder, warm arms pulling you closer. A ghost, one that seems determined to pull you back.

“Hi,” you say.

“Do you have time to catch up?” Nightowl says. It’s been thirty years? Thirty five? But his voice is as bright as ever. 

“Sure.”

On his hands, you notice, he has no rings. Just a pale band of skin where one once rested on his fourth finger.

—

There’s still a light band of skin where your ring once was. You thumb it over unconsciously, glancing out of the corner of your eye at the man besides you. You don’t think he’s noticed, absorbed into the ceramics of a long-lost civilization in front of the two of you.

Even after all these years, it still hasn’t faded. An indelible mark of your relationship, a ghost marriage: something that should have died long ago, but doesn’t go away.

He’s different now. Of course he would be, but it still hits you at unexpected moments. His long hair, tied back professionally, which he hasn’t bleached in decades. The wrinkles, which he would have used to complain about. But there are some things that are still the same, too: the dark thumb prints under his eyes. The mischievous twinkle.

You’ve changed too. You’re tired, older. You can’t stay up as late, move quite as fast, drink as much. You have your own wrinkles. You’ve found a streak of gray in your hair.

Nightowl catches your eye. “Like what you see?”

“Hm? What?” 

“The art,” he says cheekily, tilting his head. “What did you think I meant?”

Your face heats up. He’s caught you staring like some lovesick teenager. “The art. Of course.”

His laugh, you’re relieved to find, is still so, so warm.

—

The evening gloom rolls in as you find yourself in the lobby of his hotel. The misty street lights are turning on one by one outside, surrounded by halos.

“It was nice seeing you,” you tell him. As if your only history is being two old friends, and nothing more.

Nightowl dips his head. “It was. I’m glad. I didn’t realize you were still in the city.”

You shrug. “I like it here.”

“I do, too.”

“Well, I should probably go now. Before it gets late.”

You take a step back. Then another. The silence stretches between the two of you, wider than a thousand years, a thousand miles. A thousand unknown memories and experiences.

This is it. A beautiful evening, a chance meeting. And then two of you will vanish again, back to your own lives. It’s a better parting than your last one. A nice memory to take home with you, once it’s all said and done.

“Wait.” Nightowl strides towards you. He doesn’t touch you, but he doesn’t have to. “Do you want to stay? I can order room service.”

“For more wine?”

“More wine,” he confirms. “It goes on the company card, so we should take advantage of it.”

The only thing you can do is nod.

—

You wake up in a shaft of sunlight on your face like a spotlight, creeping through a gap in the blinds. Someone’s arm is around your waist, sheets pooling around your legs.

You squint, and then– shit. You try to rise, but Nightowl stirs at your movements, pressing a sleepy kiss against your shoulder.

“Good morning.”

“Nightowl,” you breathe. 

“Yes. That’s me.”

You close your eyes. Your head is throbbing, and you throw your mind back to the past, groping for the events of last night. The wine. The way the hours ticked away, until the easiest choice was to stay here. And how easy it was to fall right back into his arms.

“This was a mistake,” you begin.

“Really? Because it didn’t feel like one.”

“It’s been so long.”

“And I missed you,” he says quietly.

“Nightowl.”

“I’ve been with other people. But you weren’t just my spouse. You were my closest friend.”

You let out a breath, sinking into the plush hotel pillows. Nightowl reclines next to you, resting his chin on his propped hand. He’s drinking you in, and it sends heat throughout your body. To think that he could look at you the same, to want you the same.

“We left each other for a reason,” you say quietly. “We’re too old to be repeating the same mistakes.”

“But we’re not. We’re doing something different.” His hand slips into yours, palm to palm, fingers intertwined. “We’re not the same kids anymore.”

“I…” Your eyelashes flutter. “I know. But…”

“Do you regret this? Because I don’t.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Give us a chance again,” he says. “We can take it one step at a time. As slow as you want.”

In the sunlight, you see the pale band around his finger, glowing. “All right. But at least take me out first.”

“I think we’re already past that.” When he leans in, you only lean your head forward in response. Your first time, done again, and again, until the two of you finally get it right.

#liya writes #blooming panic #nightowl #nightowl x reader #blooming panic x reader #x reader #no words for this one #played seekl #replayed bloomic #my love for robobarbie games knows no bounds

[fugeoni666]

Almost forgot the fact that he have guns but he keep hiding them under the long sleeves

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil 6 #re 6 #resident evil #resident evil vendetta #re vendetta #after infinite darkness I catching feeling for him again #he just need to be confident of his pair of guns

[esouliie]

BUT DADDY, I LOVE HIM

– pairing | wanda maximoff x fem! reader

– synopsis | you and wanda come back from a very successful first mission together and decide to celebrate in the shower.

– warnings | soo if you’re a mutual dnr (jk), this is literal filth, dom/sub dynamic, spanking mention, fingering (both! receiving), face slapping, mommy kink of courseee, pet play, dub con kinda(?) bc she forces you to pee… so piss kink🤠, dacryphilia, oral (w! receiving), some aftercare and cute lil fluff moment at the end as wanda wraps you in her towels bc she’s so mommy! :3 (18+)

– notes | i honestly have nothing to say about this other than i wanted to try something new and out of my comfort zone. it was supposed to be a blurb but ended being over 2.6k so enjoy lmao >.<

It was your first mission as a couple. Unsurprisingly, it went well. To your core, you knew you’d both be fine. Wanda's leadership and responsibility were unwavering, and you knew deep down that you'd both succeed. Yet, your anxiety had waged its own battle, inundating you with "what ifs" and worst-case scenarios throughout the week.

The adrenaline still courses through your veins, mingling with the fatigue that weighs down your muscles. Dust and grime cling to your clothes, evidence of the challenges you faced together. But amidst the exhaustion, there's a sense of accomplishment, knowing you've made your girlfriend proud.

On the flight home, you shared a tired chuckle, the tension of the mission slowly fading away in the comfort of each other's presence. And all those earlier nerves fading to nothing but relief, knowing you’re both going home. Safe and sound.

…

“I need this suit off me,” Wanda exclaims, her voice weary but tinged with a hint of amusement. She kicks off her boots, already having peeled off her corset, dropping it in a heap by the door.

You giggle in agreement, the sight of your usually intimidating girlfriend as she struggles to take off her tactical gear highly amusing. “Yeah, I think I need a shower to feel human again.”

The sweat-slicked fabric of your own corset sticks uncomfortably to your skin. You would’ve thought Tony would at least have the decency to make your suit more breathable if he was going to stick you in a tight corset…. guess not.

Wanda shoots you a pointed look as you fiddle with your top. Your breasts push deliciously against the black fabric and she licks her lips at the sight of you - totally unaware of her growing desire.

“Well, we could save some water and shower together.”

The suggestion doesn’t catch you off guard as you’re used to the witch coming up with lame excuses to see you naked, and the idea of standing under the hot spray with an equally naked Wanda sounds infinitely more appealing than facing the solitude of your own shower.

“You know, if you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just said so.”

With a smirk and after a quick press of her lips against yours, Wanda heads towards the back of the apartment, tossing a teasing glance over her shoulder as she beckons for you to follow. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Hold on, babe,” You quickly follow in her steps, your trousers and socks long gone, as you enter the shared bedroom, heading for the en-suite. “I need to use the bathroom first-”

Soft lips cut you off as hands slip around your back, swift in removing your blasted corset. She doesn’t wait to grope your chest - deciding she’s been teased enough seeing you in that tight material - and thumbs swipe over pebbled nipples, as she bites her way down your neck.

With an attitude that Wanda usually wouldn’t let slide, "This couldn't have waited five minutes?" 

She replies with a quick “nope” and a harsh nip as she mouths at your skin, now adorned with pretty little red marks.

“But I need to go-” Her teeth digging softly into your nipple interrupts your train of thought as your hands shoot up to weave into dark curls, scraping at her scalp.

You say her name in a breathy moan and she replies with her own; kissing, licking, and sucking as much of you as she can. Your eyes flutter close but an ever harsher pinch to your nipple jolts you forward, eyes wide in search of the culprit.

“Eyes on me.” And with that, she steps away, starting the shower as she adjusts the temperature until steam billows from the stall in a comforting cloud.

As she moves under the spray, you can't help but admire the way the water glistens on her skin, tracing the curves of her body in rivulets that disappear beneath the cascading stream. Emboldened by the steam and the intimacy of the moment, you strip off your panties and join her in the shower, letting the water wash away the tension that has settled in your muscles.

For a while, there is only the sound of water pounding against tile, as you both take time to clean yourselves on irrespective sides. The shower was big enough for more than two, designed with two large showerheads on either side and one in the middle that you never turn on. But then, Wanda breaks the silence with a soft laugh, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she looks at you.

“Cute butt.”

You turn your head towards her, refusing to turn fully away from the warm stream cascading down your front.

“What? This butt?” You tease, hands gliding down your hips to grab a handful of your cheeks, before rubbing slow circles, making a show of the usually marked flesh.

Wanda may have liked having you as her good girl, but there was only so much you could take before reverting to your bratty self.

Turning away from your girlfriend, not letting her win at her game of teasing, you resume cleaning yourself. But, light fingertips brushing along your left nipple tell you she’s no longer on her side. The water makes everything even more slick, a delicious friction that almost wasn't. 

She guides the heel of her other hand down your side, cresting over your ribs until it reaches your ass. Rubbing circles over where your hands were, her eyes glazed over remembering the last time she had you bent over her lap, hues of purple and red stretched over the skin as she spanked you for mouthing off in front of the team.

She husks, “Uh huh. But I like it better with my marks all over.”

Not wasting any more time, she wraps an arm around, fingers sliding down your lower stomach and graciously over your slit, just nearly missing your bundle of nerves. As if she was the one being played with, she groans freely into your ear, her front grinding flush against your back.

“Spread your legs.” And you find yourself obeying, weight shifting to rest on your palms against the tiles. She chuckles softly, teasing you along the lines of being an “eager baby,” before two fingers glide across your peaked clit, and then curl them into your hot passes.

Your head begins to throb, a sign of the tension building within you. "Don't tease," you plead, knowing that the steam only exacerbates your headache. You reach for the faucet, desperately craving relief from the suffocating heat, but a hand stops you.

You find yourself being spun around to face the taller woman, your back arching away from the cold bite of the tiles. She stares down at you with an all familiar head tilt that dares you to challenge her, to defy her from taking what is hers.

But you remain still and she takes that as an initiative to slide inside deeper, a small smile on her face at your obedience. Starting at a hard yet slow pace, she fucks into you with little remorse. A reminder of that she owns you and can have you however she wants.

Just how you like it.

“Such a pretty little slut. Taking my fingers like that, huh? So fucking greedy.” She laughs as you cling onto her towering figure, the pleasure all too consuming as you whine and whimper so openly.

Chasing that high, you fail to notice how different you feel. Waves of pleasure burdened with a slight ache as you flutter around her. The front of your walls stimulated constantly as you rock into her thrusts. Looking down, you watch as she disappears inside of you and suddenly you remember how you needed to pee earlier. The urge to go had left as soon as Wanda started to suck at your nipples.

Your head snaps back, eyes searching to catch Wanda’s attention. But it was already on you as a smirk spreads across her face. “Don’t you have to go, baby?” She asks in a husky whisper.

Your mouth opens but no sound comes out as you resort to nodding relentlessly.

“Aw, you can hold it for me, can’t you?” She coos, fingers never slowing their pace. “I want to play with you a little longer.”

Knowing you won’t be able to hold out, the need to go growing stronger and stronger now that you remember, you whine out, “No, please, Wands- I won’t- I can’t hold it.”

With a fake sigh that conveyed an air of dissatisfaction and yet subtle empathy, “Then go right here.”

You grimace at the thought of peeing on your girlfriend, how gross it would be… the embarrassment would be too much to recover from.

“I don’t want to.” You admit, embarrassment working its way slowly into your mind, not far enough gone to allow Wanda to think for you.

She doesn’t like that, and so, her fingers work faster inside of you. Her other hand moving between pinching your nipples mercilessly and holding your hips down.

“I don’t care.” She hisses out, “If you need to go, you better do it now. Don’t make Mommy wait.”

Making Wanda wait was something you didn't really want to do, having seen the consequence on many occasions when you couldn’t come when she permitted you, but it was difficult. What she was asking of you was difficult.

With her less busy hand, she slaps a palm against your cheek, the sound echoing against the tiled walls, wet skin against wet skin making the assault sting worse than usual. “I won’t tell you again, slut.”

She doesn’t like how easily you can lose focus, your brain clearly overworking when you should be letting go, focusing solely on her.

You mumble out a soft “okay”, not wanting to be slapped again, before closing your eyes and willing yourself to relax around her fingers. Your body no longer fighting against the urge, fighting to hold it in.

But tight circles around your sensitive clit and fingers deep inside don’t stop as they continue pushing you closer to the edge. Your hand grips tight around her wrist, but to no avail. She was too strong and you couldn’t help but surrender to your throes of pleasure.

Hot liquid runs down the inside of your thighs and your eyes snap shut, shielding yourself from what’s happening, as you also begin to come – unable to stop the stream of piss, the flow faster and out of control as fingers still fuck into you.

“Oh, darling... look at you.” She coos, a hint of bewilderment evident in her voice. Not expecting you to actually look, but teasing you for it all the same. She revels in the way the warm liquid slips through her fingers on to the white flooring.

Despite how mean she was, you hold tight onto her as you lose the ability to stand on your own, legs wobbling beneath. You feel her push you further into the wall, using her body as support, not wanting to take her hand away from your weeping pussy.

“That’s it.” She says softly, fingers coaxing more pleasure from your clit. “Such a messy puppy.”

Tears fall from beneath your eyelids and you open your mouth to speak, only to be silenced with her tongue down your throat.

“That was so hot.” She admits before diving back in, teeth clashing as you open your mouth wide enough for her taking. Her tongue draws yours out as she wraps around it, sucking feverishly. Feeling you release all over her fingers - the heat easily detectable under the stream of water above as you managed to splash against her pale skin - turned her on so much, she couldn’t help but fidget, battling the urge to just fuck against your soaked thigh.

The kiss eventually comes to an end, the need to breathe overpowering the need for having Wanda explore your mouth, a few hungry strands of saliva linking you together.

“Good job, baby. You did so good for me.” She says, coaxing you further into that fuzzy feeling. She nuzzles into your neck, lightly nipping over your fluttering pulse, soothing the heated skin with her tongue. The steam making it harder to see anything clearly. You whine in reply, words no longer existing in your mind, as your heavy arms wrap around her waist.

Wanda, unbeknownst to you, wants you in this headspace—all clingy and dependable. She knows how easily things affect you, so she knew that pushing you hard like she did earlier, forcing you to pee all over her, would only cause your brain to overthink and turn against you. She had to keep you like this, for your sake as well as hers.

“I know you’re feeling all floaty but Mommy needs you to do something for her, sweetheart.” She grabs your hand heading towards the slick between her thighs. She was dripping, her clit so swollen it was hard to miss, and you couldn’t help but trace slow circles around the bud. “Mommy needs you here.”

She encourages you further with a moan so arousing, it had you almost slipping inside of her, desperate to make her come around your fingers already.

She whines, needing you to focus. “I want your mouth, baby.”

You sink to your knees, knocking her legs apart to accommodate. You hoist a leg and place it over your shoulder before leaving a line of wet kisses from her knee to the inside of her thigh. Her fingers caress your face, before getting a good hold of your wet curls and drawing you closer to where she needs you most. You waste no time and lick the length of her centre, greedily taking in the arousal that had gathered there. Wanda lets out a low groan and your eye flutter at her sweet taste. She urges you with the hand that was still tangled in your hair. Obedient to the woman’s demand, you push closer, tongue teasing around her entrance as the tip of your nose pushes into her nerves.

The grip in your curls tightens as she begins to guide your head up and down, your tongue running from just inside her, up along that sweet nerve. She curls forward, one hand against the wall, as she fucks against your face. You lick greedily, jaw slack as you let her take control, smearing her wetness all over.

Every pant melds with a breathy moan as she chases her orgasm. Lost in pleasure, she knocks your head against the tiles. It hurts - your headache now forming for certain - but she doesn’t notice until one sharp thrust has you letting out a sharp cry.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby.” She husks, arousal still clouding her senses, but she’s concerned with your wellbeing as the hand in your hair travels to soothe where you hit your head, making sure there’s no bumps or cuts. Your eyes flutter shut but you don’t revel in the comfort for too long. Her diagnoses done, she guides you back to her pussy.

She doesn’t fuck your face this time, allowing you the space to gingerly tease her entrance, and within a few seconds, your curling your fingers inside while making a hither motion, eliciting long moans from the older woman.

You don’t bother working your way up, knowing how close she was to finishing before she stopped, as you flick at her clit, fingers pressing against her front walls with an expertise only she could teach you.

At this point, Wanda can’t stop moaning. Her hand leaving your hair as she palms her breasts, slipping her nipples between her fingers and pinching the sensitive flesh. Words of encouragement fly from her lips as she lingers on the edge and you work faster, harder, propelling her forward into a blinding orgasm. Her body trembles violently and you smooth your palms over her thighs, feeling the strong muscles rippling beneath.

“Fuck.” She draws out, light flicks of your tongue helping her come down, before she’s ushering you back on to your feet. You slide up and press against her awaiting lips, pushing your body against hers. Sensitive nipples rub against each other and she groans as she tastes herself, hungrily kissing back. She’s always been able to recover much quicker than you.

“Thank you, baby.” She whispers, still a little breathless, before she turns to shut off the water. Her hand grasps yours and you step out the shower, feeling a slight chill as the warmth of the water dissipates. Wanda reaches for a fluffy towel, wrapping it around you first before turning her attention to herself. With practiced ease, she begins to pat your skin dry, her touch sending ripples of warmth through you.

 She always takes such good care of you.

“Looks like I need to wrap your hair.” She says, a tender smile gracing her lips. She had managed to avoid getting her hair wet unlike you with your curls clinging to the sides of your face. Her fingers work deftly to wrangle them into a towel but she’s had enough experience and managed to do it first time.

“All done, little mermaid.” She lets go with a peck to your lips, moving towards the door, and you grab onto her stretched out hand.

“Come on,” She tugs gently, “Let’s watch a movie.”

#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #cr: @chilumitos

[theminecraftbee]

"Well hello there Secret Keeper!" Scar says, chipper. "It's a bea-ut-i-ful day today here on the Secret Life server, and I'm here for my daily hearts for winning! I have to say, it is gorgeous today. Really a lot easier to keep the rain away without other players, what with sleeping through the night not being a problem at all! Did you know, by the way, that sleeping and rain are connected? I didn't until recently, but by golly, they sure are! Can you imagine? The world is full of so many strange things."

The Secret Keeper, being a big dumb stone statue, doesn't reply. Scar's beginning to think it's just rude. It sure replies whenever he hits the button, which is the first step in his morning routine these days. He's gotten better at dodging damage, really, even with the nearly infinite hearts! He's just not so good at dodging skeletons and creepers and such that he shouldn't top off every day.

He hits the button. He feels his health return to him. He gets a new task: Win Secret Life.

He snorts, a little bitter, to himself as he reads it and folds it into his pocket. "You know, I don't know if I'm lucky or unlucky that you're such a moron that you don't know what winning means. Your machine is broken."

No response, again, because the Secret Keeper is, as established, a big old dumb rock. Well, whatever. Besides, if he lingers on resentment and upset for too long, it might catch up with him! He's certainly let it catch up with him before. Why, a few days after he'd won, when he really had it sink in that he was for-real alone on a server covered in lightning burn marks and blood, he had a bit of a breakdown! There was sobbing, screaming, yelling at the world, the whole works! And when no one responded then, well--

"Did I just call you a moron? I'm sorry, I didn't mean that!" Scar says. "You know how I get sometimes. The world is beautiful and warm, but sometimes it gets a little hard to breathe around here! Now, where were we... oh, right! The trading post terraforming project! Now, we hit a bit of a snag the other day, what with the wandering traders I'd caught all sort of--dying--and all that, but luckily, more of them might show up any moment, and they really are vital to making the place feel alive and breathing. So today we're taking a break from that to build up some trees!"

He waves his arms like someone is listening. He'd like to imagine someone is. Grian told him he won--just because all the ghosts are quiet now doesn't mean they aren't there! And if that was a moment of temporary insanity, well, he probably--he needs to think it's not, is the thing! He absolutely needs to think it's not.

He hums and gathers more logs. His makeshift tree farms are pretty nice, if he does say so himself. He pauses as he hears distant howling and sighs. "I guess we will also be spending today cleaning up the wolf population! I swear, I have no idea what those people were thinking making a wolf spawner. A man takes a nap for a day and then the entire server is overrun with stupid white animals! And you know, I do hate having to cull the things, but, well, you know me. I've learned how to kill pretty well, I think, and really, dogs are easier to kill than people."

He grabs a sword from his chest and sharpens it. He keeps it perfectly clean so that there isn't too much blood on it. Good thing, too; most of the blood would probably be his. He's a bit clumsy, after all. He cuts his fingers on it all the time. No matter how well he bandages up his hands, he just keeps making them bleed, drip, drip, dripping blood on every path he walks down. No matter how hard he works to clean up his massive building projects, the little splatters of blood follow him, so he's sticking to dark colors where he can.

The flowers will probably show the blood, he thinks. The flowers and trees he's building. Hopefully, the blood doesn't stand out too much. It feels wrong, in a world where there are no bodies.

He stands up. He heads in the direction of today's pack of unwanted pests. He sighs. "You know, I know your question is, well gosh, Scar! All the previous winners died. When are you going to finish it off and kill yourself? And wow, that's a pretty dark question. You should be ashamed of yourself for asking, really." He laughs. It's not funny. Who cares.

Instead, he shakes his head.

"And, well, you have to understand. I'm not done building yet! I can make my base so much nicer looking! And besides, you're still handing me hearts. If I get hurt, I can just come back and get more from you! If you want to die, you have to kill me yourself. You fucking cowards!"

No response.

He sighs. "Well, that's enough of that for today. Sorry, I'm feeling kind of morose. It's all this sunshine! Can't be good for a man. Did you know populated servers rain more often than unpopulated ones? It's true! It's because people don't sleep enough. But here I am, getting all the sleep I need. Now, time to go kill some dogs and build some trees! I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon, can you?"

His hands hurt. He ignores it. He ignores a lot of hurt, these days. It's not like it's hard.

#secret life smp #goodtimeswithscar #a bee fic #implied/referenced suicide #implied/referenced self harm #SO UH. HOW ABOUT THAT SCAR NOT DYING IN THE END NONSENSE HUH. #trying to write this all very much in scar's voice was fun. dark premise. goofy guy. result: this. #also i DO love occasionally giving a character who otherwise wouldn't exactly ONE precision swear-word. very fun.

[lunarmoves]

"what does touch feel like to you?" you muse one quiet night as you spin around in the chair behind the daycare's security desk.

moon tilts his head as he turns his upper torso around to look at you. he is perched precariously on the surface of the desk where his protocols allow him to venture. you can just barely make out the thin wire connecting him to the suspension system attached to his back, ready to pull him up into the air at his slightest of whims.

warm, ruby light from his eyes paints your vision in a way that's infinitely more soothing than the harsh, fluorescent lighting of the daycare. you catch his gaze and at his curious look, you elaborate on your thoughts.

"like... can you feel it?" you ask, letting yourself idly spin in a circle again. the room passes around you in a blur, darkness fading to red fading to darkness over and over. "or does your code just tell you when you're feeling something?"

he's quiet, but it does not bother you. not like it used to. you give him time to respond, letting yourself get lost in the tranquility of a daycare that's closed for the night. the tiny, glow-in-the-dark stars speckled across the ceiling do not hold even a match up to the real things, but you appreciate them nonetheless. eventually moon replies, and his voice is low and contemplative.

"what does it feel like to you?" he postures in return, turning the rest of his body around so he can sit cross-legged before you. the bells attached to his wrist make not a single sound.

you hum, giving it some thought. "it's kinda hard to explain." at your words, moon gives you a pointed look that makes you huff. "okay, fine, unfair of me to ask, i suppose." you are daringly curious tonight. you find yourself staring up at him from your slumped position, then straighten and lean forward so you can make a gesture at his hands resting in his lap.

his head cocks again, but he complies with your silent request and holds out one of his hands towards you. his ribbons trail languidly below his wrist, two waterfalls of silk. the dark metal of his hand gleams in the dim lighting from his optics.

"can you... sense this?" you murmur out as you use two of your fingers to trace a line from the bottom of his palm to the tip of his middle finger. moon doesn't utter a word, just latches his gaze onto your hand. eyelights sharpen, but you do not notice. you take his silence with a grain of salt and continue. your fingers move back down to his palm and trace a little circle into it. "how about this? does it feel like anything?"

is his H.U.D. bringing up code as an indicator that you're touching him? or does he feel the way your fingers are moving like how you would? the sensation, the warmth? you wait, but you get nothing from him. there's a quiet, quiet click-click-click that you know is his head rotating around. slow and steadily.

"we have touch receptors," he eventually says after a long, long time and it's like he had forced it out from deep within his chest. his fingers twitch minutely under your feather-light touches. "just like you." the edges of his sharp smile thin out almost imperceptibly.

"we're not so different, you and i," you remark lightly and allow the entirely of your hand to brush against his. soft, gentle. his hand is warm and almost seems to vibrate upon contact with your own. you're not sure what you'd expected, but you think it wasn't that. you can lose yourself just doing the simplest of things with him.

"no," moon whispers, and there's something to his voice that makes a shiver scuttle down your spine. that grips at your insides and refuses to let go. look at me, it seems to say. look at me, right now. "we're not."

and when you finally move your gaze from his hand to glance back up at his face, you find that the way he's looking at you is bright and all encompassing—ready to devour you whole.

#soz if this makes no sense im tired af HAHA #dca x reader #dca x y/n #fnaf moon x reader #daycare attendant x reader #moon x reader #moon x y/n #fnaf moon x y/n #moondrop x reader #moondrop x y/n #moon x self insert #fnaf dca x reader #shay scribbles daydreams #hor hor hor hor hor

[withleeknow]

in the dark.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, crying, mention of blood, mention of animal abuse, not very edited lol word count: 0.6k note: oh i've had the idea for a scene like this for a whiiiile now and i was hella motivated to finally write it after watching skzflix 😂 (twas supposed to be used for a jk fic but oh well, sorry jungoo)

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

"It was stupid of you."

"Okay."

"And reckless."

"Okay."

"And dangerous."

"Okay."

"And stupid. Did I already mention that? Because it was fucking stupid."

"Oka-"

"Fuck!" you snap. "Why do you keep saying that? Is it the only word in your vocabulary?"

Minho shrugs defeatedly, like none of this matters to him, but his guilty eyes tell you otherwise. He purses his lips for a second, before he tells you, "What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you're sorry? Say you'll stop doing it? Say you won't put me through this again?"

He stays quiet, and to be honest, you expected him to. He's too stubborn for his own good and he's too good for his own sake. He's got the kindest heart you know, and you will always love him for it, but...

It's hard to make peace with it when he shows up at your doorstep every few weeks with bruises all over, like an abandoned dog asking you to take him in and put him back together.

It's hard to keep track of all the reasons he tells you to justify his borderline foolhardy actions. The last time it happened, it was because he ran into some psycho abusing the stray cats near his neighborhood. Tonight, it was because he saw someone get mugged on the street.

It's even harder to be okay with the fact that he's infinitely selfless and kind because you love your friend.

You love your friend.

You heave a sigh, going back to the task at hand because you know there's no convincing Minho otherwise. Sometimes, you wish he'd think of himself, that he'd put himself over others. Sometimes, you wish he'd think about you.

You asked him about it once, why he kept showing up to yours instead of going to a hospital. Instead of going home.

He only replied, simple and earnest, "I just want to be here with you."

You soak a cotton swab in rubbing alcohol before you press it gently against the cut on his cheek, wincing when he does. Then you move to the cut on the bridge of his nose, the one on his jawline, the one on the corner of his mouth...

You don't meet his eyes, but you feel his steady gaze on you the entire time you tend to his wounds. You're aware of how your hands are shaking, the way every breath you exhale is trembling, and that there are tears ready to overflow any second now.

The first one spills as you work on cleaning the blood off the corner of his mouth.

Then, suddenly, the cotton swab is no longer in your hand. Minho carelessly flings it elsewhere, and before you can scold him for interrupting you, his palms are on your face, delicate fingers cradling your jaw.

You blink. Just a split second, and his lips are on yours.

He's soft, and warm, and sweet, despite the bitterness that's been on your tongue the entire night. You love him. You do.

And he kisses you like he loves you too, tenderly and wholeheartedly.

You want to keep him with you forever, to never let him go, to not have to see him get hurt ever again. You don't think it's possible for you to endure it anymore, now that you know how it feels to have him like this.

When he pulls away, you're dazed. Rightfully so.

Minho doesn't stray from you for too long. He lets you catch your breath before he's leaning in once more.

Another kiss. Three seconds.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles against your lips, his tone so painfully sincere.

Another kiss. Four seconds.

"I'll stop doing it."

Then another one. Five seconds.

"I won't put you through this again."

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 03.11.2023]

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #skz #lee know #lee minho

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

These fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.

Gilded by @charmingwillow

Beneath her jumper, her heart was fluttering fast. Her free hand rubbed at the spot, willing it to calm. Her eyes ached from all the nights she spent awake, unable to sleep because it hadn’t calmed in days. Weeks.

She knew why; beneath her fingertips, under the soft cotton of her sweater, her skin tingled. She knew without seeing that the spot above her heart sparkled faintly with gold, like stars spinning in the cosmos. Scattered and dancing around a name that wouldn't quite focus. It was as beautiful as it was terrifying.

Someone, somewhere, was falling in love with her. They were close enough that Lily could feel a tug of alignment if she concentrated enough.

Or, Lily and James go on a walk in the forest.

Sunshine in My Eyes (requires an ao3 account) by monroeslittle

Mr. and Mrs. Evans are killed when Lily's only a girl, and she's supposed to go to a home with her sister. Instead, a relative they didn't know they had comes to collect them, and introduces Lily to manners, magic, and a life that's just the slightest bit different from the life she was supposed to live.

Or, an AU in which Minerva McGonagall raises Lily.

Dying Fires by @jamesunderwater

In fifth year, James attempts to comfort Lily by a dying fire - but finds this will require restraint on his part in a number of ways.

Their tentative, developing friendship is something so special to me

basic maths by @gigglesandfreckles-hp

Euphemia cuts Sirius off sharply. “I was simply verifying whether this is indeed the same Lily Evans whose name is written under my dining room table with a heart around it.”

or Lily meets the parents and James tries not to hyperventilate. over and over and over again.

Blue Jay by @neurowriter14

In a world with magic, the only thing that really took Lily by surprise, and trepidation, was the fact that she had a soulmate.

All That's Known by @women-inthe-sequel

Wizards view nearly everything as a problem for magic to fix. Other people might view him that way, but James has never felt broken. He doesn’t need to be wound like an old-fashion toy and programmed to do what everyone else does.

I am in desperate need of more deaf!James (or deaf!Lily). Please can someone recommend me fics

just like a tattoo by sleepygirl0305 (on ao3)

Shortly after he witnesses Remus and Sirius realize that they're soulmates, James gets his own soulmate tattoo. A fairly inconvenient time, given that there is a war going on. And N.E.W.Ts. But no matter, he was going to try anyway.

A Happy Thought by @thelighthousestale

The 7th year Defense Against the Dark Arts Class learns the Patronus Charm.

James is shocked to learn what Lily's Patronus is.

I know that this is a very cliché trope but I'm a sucker for patronus fics.

The Boy (in the bedroom) Next Door by @eastwindmlk

Lily Evans has to move in with her new potion's teacher to finish her apprenticeship. There is one small issue, said teacher? Fleamont Potter, father of infinitely annoying and frustratingly fit former rival James Potter. Who she has not seen after leaving Hogwarts after her third year.

Put on Bed Rest also by @/ eastwindmlk

Hogwarts is covered in snow and James Potter is sick. Who better than Lily to nurse him back to health.

May Moon by Elynn (on ao3)

May Moon- also known as the Flower Moon or Blooming Moon, due to the abundance of flowers that occur as spring arrives.

She glanced up, catching sight of Mary and Marlene in the crowd of unsorted first years, the both of them bouncing on their toes as a new student was called up. She’d already made two friends (she hoped) and Lily was always a bit of an overachiever. “Hiya,” she said, doing her best to sound upbeat. The boy—Lupin—looked up at her, face a bit shocked. “I’m Lily.”

or sixth year, a bad pick-up line, and a secret.

Not really a jily fic (it's pre-relationship) but I really wanted to include it in this rec list

Accidental Magic by @missgryffin

What else is there to do after confessing feelings in the middle of the night than spend a lazy Saturday in bed?

Hell Is Empty (And All The Devils Are Here) by @nodirectionhome-ao3

When an Order mission takes an unexpected turn, James and Lily find themselves stranded together. In the aftermath of the chaos, sheltering together through the storm, a fire catches between them.

Ignore the fact that I can't remember if I've recommended this fic or not. Regardless, the back-and-forth between James and Lily is so good in this fic.

Starlight by @suzyq31

Under the cover of stars, Lily and James go out in search of an elusive flower. The northern lights make Lily contemplate how plans change.

The next few fics are all by @apalapucian because I may or may not have been stalking her ao3 page. Everything, and I mean everything, Jayne writes is incredible.

maybe it was egos swinging (maybe it was her)

James starts rolling his shoulders, wincing. "Jesus, Evans." "back at ya," says Lily, testing her wrists. "ever heard of taking it easy?" "with you? never." "can’t believe you’d use confringo on me." "knew you'd block it," he says. "can’t believe you’d use depulso." she shrugs, grinning. "knew you'd block it."

(or: seventh-year, auror-aspirant, academic rivals, head boy and head girl James and Lily.)

I still can't get over the fact that Jayne wrote me over 11 thousand words of academic rivals jily. ELEVEN THOUSAND WORDS OF ACADEMIC RIVALS TO LOVERS JILY!! The banter, the stakes, I love everything about this fic

calliope calling

in which:

James wields a wand for the first time; Lily giggles, tracing an impossible dancing deer in the sky; Sirius slams the door; Peter sighs; and Remus screams, raw and screeching and piercingly young.

(or: the marauders and lily evans as children, and something about invisible strings glinting in the moonlight.)

green light

There are yellow roses on the kitchen table. a cup of coffee charmed to keep warm for a time. a scrawled "morning! :) –James & Harry" on a scrap of paper, the torn bottom of a receipt for... milk, she finds. and strawberries. harry was signed by Harry himself, and Lily wants to cry at the shaky strokes, the crooked lines. she can hear them in the other room where James' window seat project is almost finished. harry is laughing. he asks questions, mocks his dad's shabby handiwork, drops the things he's asked to hand.

roses and handwritten notes and coffee and giggles nearby. this is her life now. she skims the flowers, the sun itself in her heart.

or: the war is over. everybody lives AU. (well, not everybody everybody, but the potter family + sirius + remus + even peter* live.) old fic rewrite.

* = you'll see.

bad day wall

Lily calls it the bad day wall. it's like this weird communal one-liner diary thing.

every time i think i'm over her something happens and it hits me just as stupidly intense as all the other times. i'm SICK of it

why can't people just LIKE by default the people they LOVE? why do they have to be separate feelings? it would make things so much less complicated

or: in sixth year, Lily starts talking to a stranger(?) through messages on a wall. she also befriends James Potter. These two things are completely not related.

I haven't read this one but it on my marked for later

#lily evans #james potter #jily #jple #james x lily #lily x james #jily fic rec

[disillusioneddanny]

The Story of Us. Two: The Memories Start

Bruce stared in shock as Danny Fenton floated in front of them with his legs crossed beneath them. The ghost blinked a few times before a wide grin spread on his face and wow was he beautiful. Bruce mentally shook himself, this was a serious moment, and they needed help. And if Danny could provide that help, it would be great. But also, he was even more attractive now than when they had last seen one another. 

Danny was dressed in long purple robes with a black trim, and a staff with a caduceus on the top rested in his slack hand. He had the same white hair only now it was long enough to be pulled back in a ponytail, the sides of his head shaved close to the scalp. A dark black tattoo started at his right cheek and dipped down into his robes, beautiful whorls and shapes that if Bruce stared deeply at it, was the language of ghosts written into his skin. He was beautiful beyond compare. 

“Brucie?” Danny asked, squinting his eyes as he leaned forward in the air, trying to get a better look at him. “This is what you became when you decided to become a vigilante.”

Bruce thanked the ancients that the cowl covered most of his face because he knew he was blushing. 

“You guys… know each other?” Green Lantern asked, looking between the two. 

“Of course we do!” Danny said. “But we don’t need to worry about that, I’m here for work,” he told them and looked the members of the Justice League over and held back a smile. 

“What is it?” Bruce asked, giving him a tired look, despite the fact that it likely did not have the same effect that Danny was used to when they were in their twenties.

“I knew you became a vigilante after I left but I never really had time to keep up. I didn’t realize you had a whole little superhero group,” he crooned, floating past the barrier, causing Constantine to jump in alarm before he floated around Bruce. “Are you a bat?”

“Yes, Phantom, I’m the Batman,” he said with a sigh, already knowing the teasing he was going to get from his childhood friend. Danny knew better than anyone what his fear of bats was like, and from the snort that came from the ghost, he was likely already thinking about it. 

“Adorable,” the halfa said before he sobered up. “Okay, I’m done.”

Bruce watched as his friend composed himself, squaring his shoulders back, lifting his chin up, and cast a steely look at the heroes in front of him. 

“I am Phantom, high healer of the Infinite Realms, who summons me?” He declared and Bruce’s heart skyrocketed. 

Danny had become a healer? He knew that his friend had left for a war in the Infinite Realms but he had never heard from him since; the fact that he had continued on to his goal to become a doctor of some kind had Bruce feeling beyond proud of his friend. It had been a goal that they shared at one point, becoming medical professionals together. 

Wonder Woman stepped forward and bowed in front of Danny. “Phantom, we are the Justice League; our teammates have fallen ill from a mysterious illness and we have been unable to find out what is wrong with them. We learned that you were one of the greatest healers in the universe and hoped to make a deal with you to help them.”

The halfa gave her a small smile. “No need to bow, I’m no royalty,” he said, raising a hand. “And there’s no need to make a deal. I’m more than happy to help you. A friend of Bru-Batman’s is a friend of mine,” he said, glancing over at Bruce. 

Bruce stepped forward. “I’ll catch you up on the situation,” he said and Danny landed on the ground, his feet hitting the floor without a sound before he glided over to the vigilante. 

“You’ll have to catch me up on a lot,” Danny murmured, glancing over at Bruce, his eyes that bright, beautiful green that he hadn’t seen in so very long. “It’s good to see you again,” he whispered softly. 

“It’s good to see you too,” Bruce murmured, bumping their shoulders together and ignoring the looks of horror he was getting from the rest of his team. “You’ll have to catch me up as well, you know. High Healer?”

Danny’s blue skin turned a bright green as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, it’s no big deal, though,” he said awkwardly. 

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” Constantine muttered. 

“Tell me about it,” Hal Jordan said in response. Bruce just held back a smile before he launched into his explanation of what happened to the supers and how they were in a coma. The two made their way into the medbay where both Damian and Tim were waiting beside their friends. 

“Phantom, these are my sons, Robin and Red Robin,” Bruce said and Danny let out a coo as he looked at them. 

“You have kids now?” He exclaimed before he froze at the sight of Clark. “Oh fuck.”

Bruce’s heart dropped at that as he remembered the state of his friend and colleague as well as Clark’s family. “What is it?”

Danny said nothing as he rushed over to Clark and spread his hands, a green hue glowed from his palms and over the super’s body. “I’m glad you summoned me,” Danny murmured. He stepped away from Clark’s body once it had taken on the glow and stepped towards Conner, ignoring the way that Tim balked. 

“Danny, what’s wrong?” Bruce demanded, feeling himself panic.

“It’s a Kryptonian poison,” Danny murmured. “They call it the Bacterial Blight. It comes from the plant Blister Ivy. It’s an uncommon plant, especially now that Krypton is gone.”

“How do you know anything about it then? What are you doing to them?” Damian demanded, glaring as the same green light covered Conner’s body and he turned to Jon’s. 

“It’s a stasis spell, it just freezes them in time so that they don’t get worse,” Danny explained. “I’m a healer for the Infinite Realms, I’ve learned some from the Kryptonians in my dimension but I’ll have to consult with them about this.”

Danny then launched into an explanation of what exactly the Blister Ivy was and the three vigilantes listened in horror. The plant was uncommon, even when Krypton still existed because of how dangerous it was. The plant was worse than even the most poisonous plant on Earth. It was a tiny plant that could only be found in some snowy regions and bloomed twice a year for three weeks. The plant itself had thick, spear-shaped leaves, usually a light red color with flowers that tended to be light grey, brown, and bronze. They grew in small numbers and even were easy to get rid of because of how rarely they grew. 

The plants had a defense mechanism that allowed them to produce a powdery substance. If the substance got into the eyes, mouth, or nose, the victim would soon find themselves experiencing symptoms that grew worse and worse as time went by. 

“It starts with a cough and a fever,” Danny said, looking down at Jon. “They then fall into a comatose state as we see here. If you had waited any longer before summoning for help you would notice that their veins would start to bulge out, the color changing to a bright green, then the organs would start to shut down one by one while the skin starts to develop bright blue blisters.”

“That’s exactly what their symptoms were before they fell comatose,” Tim murmured before he looked Danny over. “How could you tell just by looking at them?” He accused, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Bruce glanced over at Danny curiously, his son had a point, that was a rather fast diagnosis. 

Danny gave them a small, secretive smile. “I’m just that good,” he said with a wink before he let out a chuckle and walked towards Clark. “In all seriousness, I just had to look at him. If you look closely, you can see his veins were already starting to turn green, not only that but there are blisters forming along his face,” he said and ran a finger along the top of Clark’s cheeks where sure enough, tiny blue blisters were already forming. 

“So what do we do? How can we save them?” Bruce asked him, a frown on his face. “How long do we have to find a cure before their organs start shutting down?”

Danny shrugged. “All the time we need, right now they are all under stasis, and we’ll keep them under that stasis spell until we collect the ingredients. I’ll have to talk with a few of the Kryptonian doctors who have passed over already and see if we can recreate the cure. It’s likely going to be quite a few Kryptonian ingredients and that means it’ll take longer for me to collect them.”

“How on earth can you get ingredients native to a planet that is gone?” Damian snarled out, the twelve-year-old’s eyes already red-rimmed. Bruce stepped forward and rested a hand on his youngest son’s shoulder. 

“Phantom is a very old friend of mine, if anyone can find these ingredients, it will be him. We just need to trust him, but our friends will be well once again,” he said softly. Damian sniffed, rubbing his nose just a little before he nodded his head. 

“Alright,” he said and looked over at Danny. “Save them, please.”

Danny gave him a small smile and nodded his head. “I can do that,” he said. 

The halfa looked over the three supers and ensured the stasis spells were fully set before he looked at Bruce. “They’re under a stasis for now. We can start focusing on the rest now,” he said softly. 

Bruce smiled and walked towards Danny and, despite the fact that both of his sons would likely hold this over his head for the rest of his life and would never let him forget, he leaned forward and pulled the man in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Anything for you, B,” Danny said softly, standing on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Bruce’s shoulders, hugging him tight.

The two walked down the hall of the Watchtower together, Bruce’s cowl tucked underneath his arm as he glanced at Danny. 

“High Healer, huh?” He asked, quirking up an eyebrow in curiosity. Danny chuckled and shook his head. 

“It’s a pretty long story,” he said, changing from his ghost form into his human form, giving Bruce the perfect opportunity to see just exactly what his childhood best friend looked like now. His hair was still the same, only that familiar dark black color, he had the same crystal blue eyes that continued to haunt Bruce’s dreams even twenty years later. Freckles were smattered across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, that same tattoo trailed down his face and along his neck. For a man who Bruce knew, was forty-three years old, Danny looked barely thirty-five. He still had the same short, slim build he had when they were in their twenties, still barely hitting five foot seven compared to Bruce’s six foot. Gone were the fancy healer robes and staff, in its place Danny wore a pair of worn jeans and an old NASA t-shirt that had Bruce reminiscing about old times. 

“I’d love to hear about it sometime,” Bruce admitted as they continued walking. “Also, your room is still the same as you left in the manor. You’re welcome to stay there while we figure this out. If you want.”

Danny gave him an amused smile. “I’ll think about it, B. I do have a house in the Ghost Zone I can continue to reside in.”

“I know, but if it makes it easier. Besides, I’d like to get to know my best friend again,” he admitted hesitantly, feeling a sort of openness that he had never felt with anyone aside from Danny. Bruce knew he was awkward and bad at feelings, he knew that he couldn’t communicate for shit. But with Danny it was different, it was easier. If anything it was too easy, it was like his mouth lost control and said things before he even had a chance to actually think them through. 

He didn’t remember being this embarrassed about it when they were teenagers, though. If anything he had once been thankful to be able to know that he could talk to Danny about anything and everything without feeling like an emotionally constipated asshole, as his kids would so eloquently put it. 

“Yeah, we really are shit at keeping in contact, aren’t we?” Danny laughed, throwing his head back with the action. “Twenty fucking years with no contact, we suck.”

“We were busy. I became Batman and then became a father and found myself busier than I ever expected. And you apparently joined a war and became a high healer,” Bruce said, giving Danny a teasing look. 

The ghost groaned. “Oh my Ancients, I’ll tell you about it eventually. It’s just a very long story,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. 

“I’m going to hold you to it,” Bruce said smugly, bumping his shoulder against Danny lightly. 

Read the prologue and chapter one here

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dis writes #batman #dc x dp crossover #batpham #dis dreams

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

Bro, infinite darkness Leon is plaguing my mind I’m being so fr rn. So my req is like DomInfiniteDarkness!Leon and like this reader who rlly sarcastic and bites back and shit like that and the plot is (porn 🫶 obvi) that he asks reader to ride his face (after a few days of sexual tension) and like she’s taken aback at first but then she’s like ‘he’s hot tho’ (not rlly I can’t think of a better response, u can choose) so she rides his face yeah, and he has this grip on her thighs that she can’t even try squirming away

And omg, there should be like this one part when he’s eating her and like she grips his hair and he goes feral and sucks harshly as a motion to continue the grip on his hair, also the stubble that he has should like graze her poussay and like she clenches bc of it and Leon notices 😮‍💨🤭🤭

Leon just gives pussy-eater vibes, is it jus me? 😭 anyways in not asking this anonymously bc I need this shit so bad

If u wrote anything similar, I’m sorry 😭 😭

Tyyyy ♥️♥️♥️🫶🫶🫶🫶

( I had to, he’s so fine)

ID Leon is a plague in my mind he never goes away. I was actually writing a request super similar to this so i hope the other person who requested this sees this!! I honestly don’t think it’s that good but i try my hardest FOR YOU GUYS. I made the reader plus size deal with it and if you hate it so much just block it out with your mind okay because i needed to write a lil something for me in this one. Sorry i haven’t been posting much writing i hit little blocks sometimes and feel like my writing sucks but nothing a little sleep couldn’t fix!

Disclaimer!!! This blog is 18+ only! If you are underaged please don’t interact with my posts thank you!!

mentions of afab slighty plus size reader x ID Leon!!

Warnings: Angsty kinda! Mentions of yelling, holding guns and close to death experiences. Leon forces reader to sit on his face, he’s kinda rough with her

word count: 2,826

Heavy. Your arm hanging from the metal that had been broken not even seconds before. Though you and Leon had far to many disagreements he was still your partner. Just the way his head tilted up and his hand gripped at your wrist you knew he was so angry that you would throw yourself so close to death just to save him. The metal beneath you made a loud creaking noise as you gripped at Leon's hand, your other arm folding over to pull him up onto the platform with you.

“You have a death wish?”

Leon yelled as he tried to carefully crawl up next to you as you let go of his arm. You leaned back on your arms, catching your breath, your eyes followed Leon standing up, his hand reaching down to help you off the floor.

“That must’ve really bruised your ego huh, kennedy.”

Mascara caked a bit under your eyes due to all the running and the tank of water exploding all over you. Your hips swayed side to side as you put your hand up waving goodbye to Leon, yelling something about how you’d see him next week.

——-

Leon’s jaw tightened watching your hips sway, the way your soaked shirt clung to your body. You were his rookie once, he trained you from the ground up. Once your promotion hit you never let Leon talk down to you again, and he hated it. Snarky comments about his aim, about the way he talks, how he looks in his suits.

His body screamed at him for relief, preferably whiskey. The bar was quiet and he couldn’t help but thank the god he didn’t necessarily believe in. His fingers traced over the rim of his glass in front of him. The man had too much trauma, a troubling past and current that just weighed on him so heavily that it made everything he does difficult.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

Your silky voice snapped him from his day dreaming, his chin tilting down as his eyes traced every dip and curve of your body before he brought the glass to his lips, the liquid stinging his throat as he tilted the glass against his mouth. You wore that pretty black dress you had been wearing back in Grahamas office, but of course you had to change when actual shit started to go down. It hugs your hips and thighs so good, your plush legs crossing over each other as you sat down staring at your partner.

“You okay?”

For once you seemed genuinely concerned for him, Leon’s head nodding as the bartender poured more whiskey into his glass. Your delicate hand reaching forward and pulling the glass from him. Leon sighed turning himself to you in full, his hands reaching down to unbutton his jacket that held it to his center.

“What.”

A smirk quickly grew on your lips as you took HIS whiskey down your throat, your nose scrunching as you pushed the glass back to him. He was so tired of your bratty demeanor, it’s so unprofessional, so unclassy. Your hands reached out to fix the collar of his white button down as you still processed the burn of the alcohol.

“I worry about you sometimes.. Anyways, I was looking for you then Claire told me you were rambling about desperately needing a drink.”

Leon couldn’t help but admire the way your hands moved when you spoke, your eyes rolling at the mention of his small drinking problem.

“Drinking everyday is bad for your liver Leon.”

Leon groaned at your lecturing, his hands coming up to shush you.

“Fuck you..”

He grumbled, causing your mouth to drop open. Honestly you were offended. For once you were really concerned about the man which was rare from either of you because if you weren’t working, you were fighting.

“You’d like that too much, old man.”

———-

“Cmon Le.. Let's just have one more drink.”

Leon’s hands held at your waist as you stumbled into him. So while you lectured him for drinking so much you downed shots one after another right in front of him. Leon watched you ramble all night, the night he was supposed to spend for himself. After he pulled the both of you outside, you shivered pointing to your car, you hand grabbing for your keys in your purse.

“Okay bye Leon.”

You slurred as a whistle left Leon’s lips, his much taller frame coming in front of you to catch you yet again. Your hands nudged at him, trying to push him off you as you whined about it being cold and how you wanted to lay down. His hands worked at his jacket, shrugging it off and reaching for your arms and slipping it onto you.

“Stop talking and walk, let’s go, you're not driving.”

You were an idiot. Leon’s head shook in disappointment as the two of you began your walk down the street in silence. Even through your drunken fog you could see he was upset with you, your hands playing with the long sleeves of his dark blue suit jacket. He did have his moments where he got genuinely upset with you, like when you had accidentally stabbed him during training, or when you stepped in front of him and Chris during a mission to take the damage of a blown hit. You didn’t belong in this field and he had no idea how you even made it this far. He reached into his back pocket pulling his keys out before he pushed open the door, turning himself back to you.

“Inside.”

His palm rested against your lower back as you stepped inside his home, your eyes adjusting to the lighting change. Leon pulled the jacket off of you and threw it on his couch before he leaned on the counter staring at you. Standing in the middle of his living room. His annoyance was making you sober, playing with your fingernails as he glared at you. His back turned to you as he pulled a glass from his cabinet, turning on his faucet to pour water into it. You flinched as he slammed it in front of you.

“Drink.”

A laugh left your lips as you reached for the glass, taking a sip. But Leon didn’t seem to find it as funny as you did, his hands resting on the beautiful marble counter.

“Lots of one word responses tonight huh.”

You asked as you finished off the glass of water, your hand rubbing your stomach. He was in his own world, it was shocking he cared as much as he did.

“Yeah, goodnight.”

Leon mumbled as he pulled the glass into his sink, pointing to the blankets on the couch. Watching his figure walk down the hall made your skin crawl. You wanted to tell him how scared you were today, how you almost lost him. How he didn’t notice the bruise on your right shoulder from almost breaking your shoulder saving him.

————

A loud thump of a pillow hitting your face shook you from your sleep, your hand reaching for your gun as you sat up.

“Oh calm down. Let’s go Grahams called.”

Leon spoke as he handed you your shoes. You yawned, pushing your heels on before running out the door after him. It’s your favorite time of day, even though you have a violent hangover and it feels like you are going to puke with every step you take trying to catch up to Leon. Out of breath finally walking beside him you push your neck forward, nodding with that stupid smug look on your face that Leon hated.

“You clean up really nice Leon, what straightener do you use?”

How could you be so bitchy at eight in the morning, Leon’s eyes rolled, his lips pressed together as he got into his car, you not falling too short behind. Out of all the people in the department he didn’t understand how he ended up with you as his partner.

——-

“What?”

Leon stood next to you, him and the president sharing a glance as he sighed.

“Listen, Leon told me what happened yesterday and we decided collectively it would be best for you to go work for another agency.”

Your jaw grew tight, it felt like your teeth were being grinded down and your cheeks were flushed a deep red in anger. Your head snapped to Leon, your eyes squinting at him. How could he file a complaint about you saving his life? He is lying directly to the source but you had no proof he was lying which is what made the situation so much worse.

“Fuck you.”

Your words smacked Leon in the face, your body purposely shoving into his shoulder- and hard too. The sound of your heels clicking filled the hallway, your anger building in your chest as you stormed out the back door. This was your life purpose, being an agent. When your younger brother had died at the hands of Umbrella you tried working your way up to demolish it all. None of it mattered anyways because when you met Leon and Chris your life had completely changed. Even though you and Leon had too many unsolvable problems, you thought he still cared? Now you were left jobless, clueless. You looked down at your phone as it buzzed in your purse ‘Leon’ Flashing on the screen.

Stupid son a bitch.

————

Loud banging on your door woke you up, your eyes fixing on the clock on your nightstand. Three in the morning? Sitting up quickly you pulled your handgun from your dresser, tip toeing into the living room area of your flat.

“Who is it? I have a gun!”

When not at work your self defense skills were beyond poor, the banging stopped, the sounds of shuffling were heard before a small thud was heard against your door. Peering into the small eyehole of your door, there stood Leon. His eyes squeezed shut as he rested his palm against your door, you immediately swung the door open causing Leon to fix at his posture.

“Jesus christ Leon, what the fuck?”

Leon’s body pushed into your flat, slamming the door behind him. His hands grabbed at the gun in your hand, laying it on your counter. Your lower back smacked against your couch as he towered over you, his hands reaching down to hold at your face before his lips smacked into yours. No alcohol? Leons teeth nipped at your lip, pulling a low moan from you before you put your hands out pushing him away from you

“What are you doing?”

Leon’s chest heaved as he stared at you, you still looked so sleepy, your pretty nightgown resting so beautifully on your thighs. Your hair was a mess and now your lips were all puffy, he couldn’t fucking stand you. Leon’s hand ruffled through his hair as he looked down the hall to your room, your bed sheets a mess. Leon’s hand gripped your upper arm, walking down the hallway with you in his hands.

“Leon! Stop! Look at me”

Pretending you didn’t like the way he touched you was a joke, and you knew Leon could tell just by the way you reacted to his touch. A whine spilled from your lips as he shoved you down onto your silk sheets, your fingers reaching down to fix your nightgown that had flown up. The sound of Leon’s knees hitting the floor echoed through your ears, your upper body lifting as you watched him lick at his chapped lips. His head shook at the sight of your glistening folds in front of him, your thighs squeezing together as you stared down at the man. Stammers of protest left your lips as Leon’s fingers dug into the flesh of your meaty thighs, of course he was strong but you didn’t know he was this strong. A deep groan emitted from his chest as he lifted his hand, his tongue running across his fingers. His eyes finally met yours, his fingers slick with his spit rubbing small circles on your clit.

“Not so much to say now, huh?”

Oh. Your heart dropped as you remembered the paperwork you had sent in placing a complaint for him. Talking about how unprofessional he was, how he drinks on the job, and stuff about his personal life in general, your lips shook as your mouth opened, a moan ripping from your throat as Leon's thick fingers pushed into you, your hand reached down grabbing at his wrist but he pushed it off to side as he rose his way up your much smaller body. His other hand gripped at the inner part of your knee, locking it beside him as he pushed his fingers into you.

“God you piss me off, Grahams was so mad at me you know? But unlike you I didn't lose my job. You had me with your little comments but I swear if you try something like this again, I will do more than fuck you stupid, Do you understand me?”

When did Leon get the capability to be so fucking mean? Your head nodded up at him, his fingers drawing from you. Leon’s head shook in disapproval as he pushed himself off you, laying down on his back.

“Sit.”

Great. Back with the one word responses. You sat up confused as your hand reached down to cover your exposed self. Your gaze shifted to Leon who looked so pretty sprawled out onto your black silk sheets. His pupils were blown with lust.

“Sit?”

Laughter came with the question as Leon tilted his head to the side to admire you tilting your head back as you laughed at yourself. His hands tugged you towards him, making you lose your balance. “fucking brat.” He mumbled as he dragged you onto of him, your body sitting on his chest.

“Sit on my face. I know you’re not stupid.”

Leon spoke up to you as he pulled your hips towards his face but you pushing yourself back made his eyebrows raise.

“Leon, I'm going to kill you..”

You sat up slightly trying to take more weight off his chest. You weren’t the skinniest but Leon knew that you were always a bit self conscious about your weight, and the amount of times he has caught you has been extremely surprising. One look down at him changed your mind, he was looking at you as if you were the only person in the word, his tongue continuously licking over his lips, you let out a shaky breath before you brought yourself forward grabbing at the headboard. Hovering over his face still too scared but Leon’s hands reached up, pushing you down onto his face.

“Leon!- oh-”

Screams of worry turned into soft cries of pleasure, Leon’s hands reaching back to cup at your ass in his hands, somehow pushing you further into him. Your eyes finally fluttered open, staring down at Leon who seemed to be enjoying much more than he should. Never did you imagine Leon’s face so deep into you, your thighs pushing against his cheeks, the scruff on his face scraping your soft skin. His eyes opened hazily, staring up at you as he pushed his tongue into you, his hands still rocking you into him.

“Leon wait!-”

You cried out as a boiling burn started to build in your stomach, your body going to crawl off of him. Leon’s arms wrap around your thighs before you’re flipped over, his thighs laying over his shoulder as he laps at your folds on long strokes. Your hands reach down, grabbing at his soft hair. Leon moans out, vibrating your entire body as he uses his fingers to hold your folds open. He’s sucking at your clit so fucking good, your hands trying to push him away as he hold you’re hips down. He could have this view forever, the way you’re crying for him and the way you taste so good in his mouth. The amount of times Leon has wanted to force you down and suck on your pretty little clit was too many to count on his hand.

“Fuck!”

Your scream could probably be heard from all the flats around you as your orgasm flashed through your body, causing tears to drip from your eyes. A cry left your throat as Leon sat up, his fingers gently rubbing small heart shapes on your clit with a big smile on his face. He looked so beautiful, your slick covering his chin and his lips swollen from sucking at your folds for so long.

“Le.. s’ too much.”

Leon shook his head as he leaned down, sloppily pressing kissing on your lips, your own taste filling your mouth before you screamed out at the feeling of Leon once again pushing his long fingers into you.

“Jus’ give me five more of those pretty.. I'm enjoying this too much.”

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon infinite darkness #ID leon #LEON EATS PUSSY YUP

[delicrieux]

𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫, 7. year one: up to mid october, 1972

pairing for this chapter—f!lestrange!reader x sirius black warnings for this chapter—sum swear & sirius being a prat word count—2.5k

a short awaited confrontation and a new friend.

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | ttp masterlist | < back | next >

over the course of the month, it seems that the sight of you has become repulsive to sirius. he could not bear to look at you for more than it took to notice you in the crowd or to recognize your voice echoing before the body belonging to it reached him. he’d flee, usually, and refrain, in a completely un-sirius fashion, from making a gigantic scene. this would have been odd to you if only the pain of seeing his hastily retreating back wasn’t too much.

don’t be so harsh with me please, you’d want to tell him, i’ve done nothing but love you.

instead, “what. is. with. you,” and each word punctuated with an angry smack to his forearm. he glares, and he wiggles out the way of your unrelenting pursuit to beat him into submission. his friends watch frozen, stuck somewhere between amusement and desire to pull sirius back into the safe confines of the gryffindor tower. you will not allow them. not this time, at least, “you stuck up, insufferable—“

“piss off,” he nurses his bruises, though you aren’t strong enough to leave any.

you falter in your step, but the anger doesn’t die. he must know how his look wounds. he must. “piss off?” you parrot, and it rings much smaller and fainter than his had, “piss off? that’s all i get from you?”

“expect something different?” he bites, and bites, and bites, and he maims and mars until there is a thread between your hands and his heart thin as ivory wire. his eyes appraise and they dance and they hate, “why don’t you run back to your regulus.”

ah. there it is. the venom.

“sirius-“ james starts, and both of your glares cut him into two.

“shut up,” the both of you, again, together. you mirror his dark look and try to decide which words of the infinite welling quickly are most fitting. they sink with and through you; an anger and a hurt not meant to be felt by someone so inexperienced. when you and sirius argue, it is never as dire, even if it feels like it was. sirius never starts rows he cannot win, even if it’s him that loses most in the end, “family matter.”

james looks as though he’d rather be anywhere else but in the windy courtyard, shadowed by the cold arches of a loggia. peter, cheeks and ears burning, nervously rubs his hands together to dispel the cold. remus, already, is further ways down and watching, waiting for the rest to catch up. you won’t let them, not yet, not till you say your piece and abandon first, because father said the last word is always the winner.

you speak in french because you know he hates to hear it, because it reminds of home and you know he can’t stand home like he can’t stand you now, and it will hurt him, and it will make you happy, “regulus was right about you. you’ve become unthinkably cruel.”

he curls his lip, and it is with so much spite that it makes your teeth ache. his body rolls into itself, ready to explode and spit up his scorn all over your face. the insult must teeter on his tongue. you're more than ready for it. but something cracks and something flips and he reels back a bit, a show of restraint you thought him absent of.

"yeah, regulus, regulus always knows best, doesn't he?" your french mimicked in his mouth is dense, like syrup, "regulus, darling, regulus," a sneer that draws his lip to the high planes of his cheekbones, and a head tilting movement that is patronizing and obscene. it reminds you of his mother, "your regulus, isn't he the fucking best."

"he's not mine," you state tartly.

"hard to believe when he follows after you like a dog," he bites, and bites, and bites, but even through the layers upon layers, the soreness permeates and leaves you stricken into a stupor that only sirius can create, "listens and does everything you say. can't he think for himself. attached to your shoulder like some blithering pest."

you blink back the anger in your eyes. you are not going to cry, you tell yourself. if you do, then he will win, but he always does.

the boys stare at you. you don't know what to say. the feeling of it is tight and burns like an ulcer, "what has gotten into you? why do you hate me? i haven't-" your lips work through their turmoil, "-i haven't done anything to you."

he waves you off, dismissive. his hands tremble with some unspoken rage. "stop bothering me and go back to regulus. he's probably already looking for you."

the end of the conversation hangs heavily between you. sirius sniffs, and turns away in that blasé manner he always has with him, as if all life were a joke. his posture is too stiff and his features are too cold and he joins remus first as james and peter linger. you shake.

"i, uhm," james begins, but your glare silences him again. slowly, carefully, he nudges peter, "c'mon."

they leave, but james looks back. you miss it, head hung in defeat. your emotions threaten to burst free and splinter all over the stone. you think, in a hurry, how could you ever cover them up – with your hands, your body? is it the aftermath already, where everything is too obvious for pretence?

when it rains, it pours. it always has and you suspect it always will.

*

naturally, you are inconsolable. what a great big joke. no broom closet nor dusty cavern of the castle is familiar enough to hide in, and you cloak, despite its expanse, can hardly protect from sore eyes. the loo it is, locked in some stall and hiccupping. marzipan had mentioned finding a hufflepuff crying not a week in. she thought it amusing, and you did, too – who could ever abate decency and sob in the loo? what a terrible ploy for attention, had the girl expected consolation? no such could ever be found in marzipan, why, she said, and she said it proudly, she laughed quite loud and the crying stopped.

you would die on the spot if someone found you. it would feel like uncovering a horrible secret, being exposed in such a way. aren’t you a grown up? your birthday is soon, on a cold october night. grownups always breathe fine – besides your ditzy aunts – but you find there not being enough air. so much space and so little of it.

you fan yourself, and you heave, and in a tantrum you tussle out your cloak and throw it onto the gleaming white tiles.  your cheeks burn and there’s an ache in the apex of your head. crying like this, over a boy, no less? sirius, of all? rabastan would point and laugh, point and laugh, point and laugh.

there’s a knock on your stall’s door and you nearly topple over in a scurry to silence yourself.

“hi, sorry,” the voice is unfamiliar, but it sounds kind, “are you alright?”

perfect, not only have you embarrassed yourself, you’ve aroused the suspicion of an idiot. there’s a gentle creak on the wood, as if a weight has settled. an ear, perhaps, pressed onto the surface, but for what?

you will your shaky hands to settle by your stomach. the fingers pinch and pool on the woollen fabric of your sweater. you gulp, but it gets stuck, and the silence stretches, so still.

“i-yes,” you manage. this won’t do, the tears cling to your mouth, “i’m, i'm okay.”

“do you need some water?”

if you weren’t so distraught, you’d delight at the curtsy. stupidity must be contagious because you shake your head.

“no, no,” you say after a pause.

“a tissue perhaps?”

“i'm fine,” seems you have managed to locate your wits. from some hellish depths, no doubt. swiftly, you retrieve your cloak, “thank you.”

“’s no worries,” the voice pipes. it belongs to a girl, you think, who doesn't budge, and, instead, waits. it seems your dramatics have riled someone. even the staff would scold your sorry condition, all snot and tears and shaking limbs – quite undignified, "can you tell me why you're crying?"

oh, merlin, how wonderful, the prodding and the poking and the horrible sympathy. are you so pitiable? perhaps. in this state. it's still hard to believe a complete stranger has found themselves so comfortable, "if i say i'm not crying will you go?"

the girl laughs, light and tittering. for a moment, it startles you, too, "not very likely."

the air remains stagnant, as if it's thick and spinning. the echoes of your sniffles bounce along the walls. you could tell her to piss off. you've heard it enough in the span of the last hour.

"i had a fight with my friend," you say eventually, "i think he hates me."

"did you do something to make him hate you?"

your forehead grazes the stall door. it leaves a cold spot and it makes you wince, "no."

"hmm," there is a sound of shuffling and more creaking, "well, then i wouldn't be very worried. he sounds like a dick, and what you need friends like that for?"

a great deal, actually. what did you think you were doing these years, clinging to his arm and curling into his bed when it rains? "what am i supposed to do?"

"beat him up, i imagine, and sort his sorry arse out."

you snort, though not very amused, "tried that."

"good start," you imagine her nodding and crossing her arms, "now, if i were you, i'd hex him into tomorrow and we'll never hear from him again."

"sounds wicked," you lament. the thought has crossed your mind, but revenge crumbles into some mushy, pitiful mess if you think on it too long.

"positively evil," she agrees. the silence returns, but it's comfortable, "i’ve got parchment in case you wanna practice curses."

a corner of your mouth quirks. your chest aches, but it's no longer full and painful, "that's alright, thank you."

"always wanted to be an accomplice," you hear the smile in her voice, "no trouble at all."

a final stretch of quiet. it allows you to breathe, really breathe, and pull yourself into order, as it were. it's no pretty sight, the state of you, but it no longer compares to how you first came in, a crying mess. when you open the stall, and face the girl for the first time, a kind face greets you. her brown skin is flush, hair twisted into two plaited horns that are gathered into a half bun, the rest pinned around her head. your nose twitches, itchy.

she grins, "there you are. no longer crying."

the cold from the running faucet burns against your cheeks. the face that peers back at you from the mirror is dishevelled. red-rimmed eyes and wet splotches all over. you grimace, "look like a sordid mess."

"well, yes, but, like a normal sordid mess. like, almost pretty normal," she stands behind. a red lion's emblem is embroidered into her uniform. she tilts her head, "like, i look way worse when i do it. at least you cry prettily."

"oh, you think so?" you turn to her, "no one's ever said that."

her nose wrinkles, but the mirth isn't gone from her eyes, "well, don't suppose you make a habit of sobbing in front of others. lest you wouldn't have barricaded yourself in the stall."

you hum, "quite the excellent point."

she flashes her teeth and nods proudly, "of course, got many," there's a slight silence where she appraises you, "you're lestrange, right? i've seen you in my classes," she asks as though she knows, and extends her hand for you to shake, "i'm dorcas. meadowes. gryffindor.”

“slytherin,” you respond, but shake her hand anyway.

“can tell,” dorcas says, that same lilt of a smile on her lips, “you wear it with pride.”

yes, of course, because that is what lestrange do. her family name is unrecognizable, but you don't think to wonder on it much further. her eyes are friendly and warm, and she takes to fixing the wayward strands of your hair while you dab a bit of tissue paper to your nose. a few seconds go by, and she glances at you from under the hair fallen onto her forehead, "i still have parchment, and we could still get you those curses down."

"haven't the ink to draw any, unfortunately," you reply.

"hm. next time then," dorcas decides for herself, and makes for the door, "think a walk to the kitchens might be in order?" she leaves her invitation open-ended, her gaze expectant, "could use a warm cinnamon bun."

you wonder about her, dorcas meadowes, with the shiny dark eyes and plaits and how well she talks to strange girls who cry in bathroom stalls. "alright," you accept, the smile on your face not as strained, nor sad, nor angry, "lead the way."

#regulus black #sirius black #the marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #marauders x you #harry potter #hp #imagine #imagines #reader #fluff #hogwarts #x reader #angst #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #james potter #james potter x reader #if u squint #time to pretend #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #hp x you #hp fanfic #slytherin boys

[awritesthings1]

Here, there, and everywhere

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker/Reader

Summary: Takes place yearsssss after "How to Disappear" Epilogue.

-

“Take my hand, Ani.”

So he does, just like he has been doing over the past few decades.

“Am I dead?”

Your smile catches like little hooks in his skin, guiding him gently through the great, big puddle, which stretches infinitely on all sides. His feet aren’t wet, and there are no ripples or tension in the water. There is only stillness, silence, and you.

“Jedi don’t die, Ani. They move on to greater things.”

He likes that, he thinks. He isn’t too sure where he is, or even who he is, but he’s okay with that. The great, big silence, he realizes, is his own, so he steps back, expecting to hear the sloshing of water. He is caught between fear and wonder when the water remains still and quiet, seemingly unaffected by his presence, like he was never there.

You shush him and step forward to cup his cheeks. He protests for only a moment when he swears that he sees a Jedi with shaggy golden hair looking up at him with the same unsettled frown.

“Anakin, come back to me.”

He blinks because it is easy. He blinks because it’s easier to see nothing than to see a hundred mirrors looking at each other. He inhales sharply because it’s the human thing to do, and he gasps and lunges forward to clutch your shoulders when he can’t feel any air entering his lungs.

He expects you to shove him away, but you only pull him closer and bring his forehead to yours so he can steal the breath between your lips.

“Come back to me,” you whisper more insistently, brushing your thumbs over the vein on his neck, where he hopes his pulse is throbbing.

He hums and meets your eyes. It slows down the space around him, and he begins to see beyond the water, beyond the five senses, into a place where he is everywhere all at once. He is the seas, the mountains, the valleys, the people, the rain, and the sun all at once. And you are there too—the tree to his fruit, the grief to his mourning.

You paint in the colors around him. The first notable one is blue. You are blue, and he is blue. You are glowing like the falling rocks from space that light up the night sky, and he is the darkness watching your light with curiosity. And just when he thinks you are passing by, that smile of yours hooks itself deeper into his skin, and you are falling through the night air together.

He feels full and satiated when you share your blue glow with him. Together, you are the blue ghosts of the Force, wandering the land but not lost.

It is here, there, and everywhere that love follows.

You—the ever-experienced force ghost—teach him the Force all over again as if he were a youngling. He makes some awful joke about haunting some Jedi that got on his nerves, and you rightly tug on his ghostly blue Jedi cloak.

Oh.

That’s another thing.

He wears his Jedi uniform as a Force ghost, even if he wasn’t exactly loyal to the cause his whole life. It takes some getting used to; his cloak, for the most part, was permanently folded away on the top shelf in their Nabooian cottage. The uniform did nothing for the perilous summers on the coastal planet anyway. Now it hangs on his shoulders like it's never left.

It takes some time to come to terms with being a Force ghost, and he now holds more respect for you now that you’ve done it twice. He’s older now; you both are. You grew old together and lived. A part of him hurts when he sees his reflection in the still lake, vacant of all his hard-earned wrinkles and scars, all of which he proudly wore like badges to say, yes, I lived. Even in death, he is still a little stubborn. He’s still Anakin Skywalker. It’s just dissociating to see his past self when he was so unhappy and in a dark place. He doesn’t relate to that boy anymore. He’s grown, changed, and he wants to see that reflected in the water.

And when he’s ready to stand up and shift away into the wind, you’re there, hand on his shoulder, wearing that soft, understanding gaze, saying, I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you. Those three words banish the darkness and welcome him into a warm embrace of love. Forgiveness is never too late.

You take to your new life with the grace he remembers. It scares him at first, seeing you as the blue ghost that haunted him all that time ago. He tries to sink away when those feelings surface, but he knows you see right through him. It’s confronting prying open things he’d rather keep closed. There’s no privacy in his life. There’s no his life, only life. He belongs to the Force, and so do you, but you also live independent of the Force, and are just beings existing. It’s all very confusing.

But there’s one thing that still remains.

“Do you think Yoda is a Force ghost?” Anakin asks.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. He mentors orphans and teaches them the way of the Force,” you whisper, too focused on your meditation to say much more.

Anakin scoffs. “I’m that replaceable, am I?”

You sigh, open your eyes, and turn to him.

“Careful, Skywalker. Sounds like you’re getting jealous.”

“I’m not jealous!”

“Hmm.”

“I’m not!”

…

“Do you think Obi-Wan’s still around?”

You smile.

“He still dreams about you.”

Anakin perks up.

“He does? How do you know?”

A part of him already suspects the answer.

You intertwine your hands.

“He never stopped looking for you, Ani.”

A poison named guilt sours his tongue.

“I… I should go find him then. Tell him I’m fine.”

You shake your head. You’re not upset; you look more at peace.

“He knows, Ani. He knows.”

Anakin can’t quite understand how, he’s still new to this Force ghost thing.

“…And he’s happy?”

You nod with a smile and squeeze his hand.

Only one more thing troubles Anakin.

“Do you think I’ll ever see him again?”

“He’ll come find you when he’s ready.”

You pull him into your arms, and he buries his nose in the crook of your shoulder like old times. Your laughter lifts his spirits.

“You have much to learn, young Padawan.”

There’s no place to start like the end.

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[celosiaceo]

“And Maybe, I’ll Say Maybe”

Leander x GN!Reader

Description: The leader of the Bloodhounds, a famously kind and generous man who would without as much as another give a newcomer a roof over their head, food on their plate and an oasis of normalcy to come back to after drowning in the insanity of Eridia. He’s been nothing but a hero to this newcomer, seeking to provide them with love comfort they couldn’t even dream of before. It almost feels too good to be true. So what happens to be lurking deep within, and what comes spilling out from beneath the flashy mask when the newcomer finds out something they shouldn’t have about their chivalrous saviour..?

Tags: blood, descriptions of sickness, descriptions of violence, descriptions of death

Word count: 7000

Eridia felt like an entirely different city beneath the veil of darkness. The barely lit streets and shrouded alleys felt like a maze cast in a layer of dust.

The dark stretches of houses failed to look any different from each other as I dashed past them, panting for air and taking random turns while praying for my escape.

Left.

Right.

Left

Left

Right.

Left.

Right.

Right.

My heart jumped from my throat to my stomach and back up with every turn I made. My gasps for air muted out almost everything else. Everything, but him chasing after me.

My lungs burned for air, my throat irritated by the cold as whatever I breathed in had no time to heat up. The wind hit my dampening eyes, I kept blindly making turns, and yet I couldn’t lose him.

I felt as if I was going in circles, the streets refused to be different. Or I was just unable to even see where the hell I was going. All I knew is that he was still behind me. And not far at all.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Left.

Left.

Right.

Adrenaline pushed most of my body’s pain out while I kept running, terrified of even beginning to turn around. Afraid to see him being right at my heel.

My heart beat as if it was trying to run out of my body. The rate of my pulse matched the heart’s urge to rip itself out.

And yet, from him, I heard nothing but the fast clicking of his boots against the pavement. He was way stronger than me, and he knew it damn well himself.

I didn’t even dare think of when the adrenaline would run out, and what I would do then.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Right.

Left.

In the darkness of the increasingly less illuminated streets, I almost ran into a wall while making a turn. The space began to feel narrower and narrower. Perhaps because of the panic exploding in my head. Perhaps because I was getting myself that deep into the city. Perhaps because I was setting up my own trap.

It felt as if my airway was closing. My throat was beginning to get sore. Like I could suffocate from one wrong breath. The pain began to trickle back into me as the adrenaline seeped out. My heart pounded with pure terror, my brain scattering as if it were blasted with a hunting rifle.

Every step hurt and my legs felt as though infinite needles stabbed into every muscle. The left side of my stomach, just under the ribs, broke out in torturous pain. I barely bit back a pained cry. One arm clasping at my side, I forced myself to run.

His speed did not even falter.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

At this point, I was gasping for air as if I were drowning. I knew I wasn’t running nearly as fast, yet he stayed at a distance. Was he indulging in this? Was he playing with his food? But… that isn’t like him, like many things I thought weren’t.

My fingers almost stabbed into my side to keep the excruciating pain at bay. I made the same turns, my mind turning into mush as it again began to feel like I was circling. Those narrow alleys did not stand out from each other, almost pitch black.

But then, the streets began to widen again. With newfound hope, I sprinted and clenched my jaw. Involuntary tears streamed down my cheeks. He began to catch up again.

The first triple crossroad. I began to try and twist and turn along the streets again, seeing this as a last chance to escape. This had to be it. This had to be my gate to freedom.

Left.

Left.

Right.

Ahead.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Right.

Ahead.

The clamped dustier air of the alleys was replaced with fresh cold air again. Hope had sprung the pain away a little. I ran like I never ran before, neglecting every screaming muscle in my legs and chest.

My pulse pounded heavily in my head. I thought it was a hallucination, but it sounded like he was falling behind. Another turn. Indeed. Yes. Oh Allmother yes.

I soared with glee. I found the energy to keep running despite my body self-disintegrating in a way. It felt so close, freedom felt so close.

Another turn. I snapped my head to the side. He wasn’t there. Oh Allmother. He wasn’t there. It’s so close to the end now. I sprinted. Another turn.

Shit.

A dead end.

My eyes darted.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

My stomach dropped. The body was paralyzed as if frozen instantly in place. All of the pain suddenly erupted into the muscles. His steps were no longer heard. My breath sped up as all the energy sprung to my brain.

Think.

Think.

Think.

The dead end was full of litter, empty boxes, rotting planks, and reeking trash. A small balancing construction of planks in the left corner that leaned against the wall barely stood out from the clutter.

Without a second thought, I crawled in under it. My head almost nudged one of the planks. I quietly moved up a box to further hide myself from the right, curling up to be most obscured by it.

It was still dark on that street. Now for me, it was even darker, with only a small triangle above my head serving as my unobscured view.

The smell of rotting, decomposing wood surrounded me. My stomach churned. I clasped a hand over my mouth despite my lungs begging for more air. The pain in every muscle of my torso and legs made me feel like my fleshy carcass would crawl out from the skin and air itself out.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and saliva overflowed in my previously dry mouth, almost making me choke. My heart was nowhere near calm either, craving more oxygen like the rest of my body, wanting me to gulp it like a thirsty human in a desert.

My hands went into a small tremor as I hugged my legs tighter to my chest and buried my face into my knees. I didn’t want to risk moving anything, Allmother forbid it falls loudly.

It was still quiet. Distant noises of a calm Eridian night began to settle. Barely audible crickets, someone’s window closing, echoing music from the Amaryllis district, a Soulless growling far away.

Despite my body wanting to writhe away from the stress, my mind began to calm down. It was futile, but I tried to calm my aching flesh down with small circular motions over my stomach. Perhaps he has lost sight of me after all.

I completely lost track of time. As far as I knew, an hour could’ve passed. Could’ve been a minute or less. I would be none the wiser. No approaching sound. Nothing. Soon, as my ears got used to the smaller sounds, everything began to fall dead silent.

There was only the sound of my breath hitting my hand, but that was no less unnerving. When could I come out? Has he gone back? Is he still looking for me? Would he still be looking for me after however much has passed? Everything felt like a haze.

The silence was simultaneously disturbing and soothing. Disturbing, because imagining a city like Eridia this quiet was unnerving. Yet there it was. Soothing, because no steps were approaching. No voices calling out into the darkness.

The anxiety and paranoia were nibbling at my sanity from the inside out. What should I do? There’s nothing I could possibly do to verify how much time has passed when I can consider myself safe. I felt antsy and uncomfortable. There wasn’t even room to squirm in fear of the planks falling.

Doubts began to creep into my mind. What if he just left? He could expect me to bump into him tomorrow, or soon enough anyway. Without him I barely had anything. No money, no food, no water, no roof over my head. It slowly started to settle just how much control he had over my life here in Eridia, the horrifying extent to which I was completely helpless in this strange place on my own. How desperate to stay away did he think I am? Because I didn’t know either.

Against a human, my hiding spot could work, but not against any Soulless, their heightened senses would definitely feel human flesh between some decomposed planks and a box.

A thought crossed my mind. I have no idea where I am. I was still in Eridia, that much I knew. The buildings weren’t the well-lit and flashy ones of the entertainment district, that much is certain. But the same applies to almost anywhere else. Everywhere in Lowtown looked similar, the streets barely differed between one another. Where do I even go for the night, or, actually, a couple of nights? I had to learn the hard way that no one here will stick their neck out for you unless they get something out of it too. Which is the opposite of my case. Why would anyone here hide someone the Bloodhounds would undoubtedly be on the lookout for? They’re local heroes, so I’d definitely be the villain to them if Leander were to say so. The realizations sunk in like stones into my stomach, weighing me down onto the ground one after another and making me wish I could fall through the cobblestone.

My train of thought stopped dead in its tracks, and my breathing hitched. My hand clasped tightly over my mouth. My fingernails stabbed into my cheek.

A quiet humming began to fade in, accompanied by a familiar clicking of boots. All too familiar.

No.

No.

No.

No.

He kept approaching. His voice was but a quiet, smooth sound in the deadly silence. His humming chimed to the rhythm set by his slow steps. He knew I was nearby.

He kept walking. Getting closer, like death itself coming after a plagued animal.

Right.

Left.

He took the same turns. As I could tell from the sounds only coming nearer.

There was a ringing in my ears like a church bell ringing right next to me. Again, I was frozen. The faint sound of his voice, like the realization of my impending doom, had paralyzed me.

My eyes involuntarily bulged, threatening to pop out of their sockets. My heart raced. I almost wanted to rip it out, fearing he could hear it.

My lungs curled in on themselves, making me suffocate. But I couldn’t even gasp for air. The pathetic amount of air I could get through my hand wasn’t nearly enough.

Perhaps suffocating would be a better fate. I didn’t want to find out what would happen if he found me. My mind clawed at the inner side of my skull, screaming in an attempt to escape this.

But there was nowhere to go. I was caged between decomposing wood to my back and left, and two walls of stone to my right and front. Trapped. I was trapped. There was no way I could move the box away without making a sound or being seen. I couldn’t get out of a dead end without being noticed by him. Not when he was twenty steps or less away.

My insides churned and squirmed. They also wanted to escape this doomed fleshy shell and run. But, just like I, they were bound in place.

He kept humming something. As he got closer, I couldn’t recognize what it was. A lullaby? A ballad? I didn’t know. It barely mattered. My pulse thudded in my head and throughout my body was still louder.

He was here. Just ten steps away. Maybe even at the same exact spot where I froze, seeking a hiding spot.

A small green light stabbed through the little triangle of space just above my head. Of course. He’d want a good look around. Drag out the fun and commit it to memory for the best of indulgence.

My muscles couldn’t relax, as if a force of terror was keeping them painfully tense, wishing to run but having no escape. I squeezed my side against the wall, my free hand pressing my head down more. My eyes cast to the triangle, observing.

The green light didn’t rest over a single inch of my skin, at the cost of me feeling like some of my bones would snap in half. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Maybe he’d spare me.

He just kept pacing the area in circles. Humming the same song. For a moment, he stopped. My heart skipped a beat. Did he find me?

No. Not yet. He cleared his throat. Then he began to walk even closer. To the piles of debris.

He began to sing.

A slow, painfully slow song. It felt as though a knife was being dragged over my neck, just shy of stabbing. He hummed the same slow tune, louder. Like he sang to someone. My heart dropped to my stomach. Time itself seemed to slow down.

He knew I was there. No doubt about it.

“Maybe… you’ll think of me”

“When you are all alone…”

His voice was low and rich. I never heard him sing before. His voice could even be calming, but all it did was make all color fade from my face.

His voice was like dark honey. Deep, sweet, flowing smoothly, and with an addictive drag to it. Had ambrosia been a sound, it would’ve been his voice. If it weren’t the source of my deathly horror, I’d want to drown in it. It had a pinch of sultriness, I didn’t know if it was to mock me or to tempt me.

While he sang, he kept walking through the small area, as if dragging out a high. As if letting me simmer in a feeling of doom.

“Maybe… the one who is waiting for you”

“Will prove untrue…”

By his steps, he seemed to dance along while walking forward. His trenchcoat rustled in the air when he made a turn. For a moment, his singing stopped.

The sounds of wood breaking and falling stabbed the ‘serenity’ of the moment. I could feel my pulse halt. He kicked down some of the debris. A thought involuntarily crept into my head: would my bones sound the same if he were to snap them broken?

“Then, what will you do..?”

He dragged out the note and chuckled after it faded off. He was aware of me listening. A solo performance for a one-person audience. The last feast. Meanwhile, I could barely breathe, like a hypnotized mouse before a serpent.

Another pile of mold-ridden wood was broken. I couldn’t help but shudder. Just how amusing was this to him?

I couldn’t see his face. I didn’t want to. Ever again. I would rather amputate my own arms with a blunt rock than face him. Silently, I prayed. Prayed that he would just stop this torment and turn around and go back the way he came from.

“Maybe you’ll sit and sigh…”

“Wishing that I were near…”

My eyes dampened. I realized I had not blinked in too long, staring into the triangle of green light as much as my eyes could shift to the side without me needing to move my head.

I couldn’t help a shiver breaking out all over my body. The wall was cold, and every neural ending was times more reactive to any stimulus. Every inch of my flesh was inflamed, squirming and writhing like worms.

Simultaneously the sensations of a scorching fever burned me from the inside and the sweat soaking my skin froze my flesh on the outside in abrupt waves. I felt sick from the torturous contrast, my body sending itself into a cycle of confusion and physically manifested panic.

All while, his steps kept resounding against the pavement, for a moment in what sounded like the rhythm of a waltz.

“Then…”

“Maybe… you’ll ask me… to come back again”

Yet again, he kicked something broken and I couldn’t help another shudder, almost expecting his gilded boot to collide with my side. It sounded like he broke a box. I felt nauseated, my mouth suddenly salivating out of control as if I had actually gotten sick. Almost inaudibly, I gulped.

“And maybe, I’ll say maybe…”

He savored every note and dragged it out, his voice and steps would’ve undoubtedly swept me from my feet, had this not been the situation. He hummed the slow melody as if he were serenading me.

Suddenly, an extremely bitter, burning sensation arose in my throat. I kept my hand glued to my mouth, gulping back the overflowing saliva. My stomach flipped dangerously. I wanted to vomit from the explosion of sheer panic, but I had to hold it back.

I felt sick to my core. And him? He continued waltzing along the dead street, his shadow occasionally dancing over the little triangle of view I had.

His alluring voice became just a deliberate bit more sultry like he was flirting. As if he couldn’t just bring on my very death. Cruel. He was cruel. And I was too late to see it.

My shivering stopped, and his steps began to get closer. I couldn’t look at the triangle anymore, my eyes squeezed shut.

“Maybe… you’ll think of me”

“When you are all alone…”

I could hear the familiar smile in his voice. There was not a single doubt in my mind that he felt my agony and thoroughly indulged in it like an aged fine wine. He was punishing me for running in the first place. Especially for running this long. For giving him a hard time.

Tears began to prick at my eyes again, my second hand clutching my stomach again. The circular motions were a futile attempt at stopping the twisting and writhing of my organs.

He only drew nearer. Once again he destroyed a piece of nearby junk. And, again, I flinched. A desperate part of my mind wanted to just be dead already. This act that he was drawing out was too much for both my sanity and my body.

I forced myself to glance at the triangle. The green light was becoming blocked by him. He was starting to come into view. I couldn’t see his face yet, all I knew was that I didn’t want to. Another futile prayer was made in my head. Of course, it didn’t stop him. It felt like not even the Allmother could.

“Maybe the one who is waiting for you…”

“Will prove untrue…”

The daunting spilling of his soft voice made my mind spiral into insanity. I felt neurotic, there was nothing I could do in my self-made trap. He knew it. He kept taunting me with precision, somehow knowing how to press all the buttons with seemingly so little.

Now I could slightly hear the dangling of his jewelry, the quiet rustling of his trench coat. I froze again, eyes squeezing shut almost as soon as I opened them. I wished I could be able to pretend like he’ll disappear if I kept my eyes closed.

He stopped a step away from me. My heart began to pick up pace again. My legs ached in near primal instinct to run. Except there was nowhere. Only right into his arms.

Stepping to the side, he kicked some debris right behind my trap into the wall. It all broke with a hopeless crack. I knew what was coming next. And he knew that. Perhaps I was playing right into his hand all along.

The next thing I knew, the large box concealing me from the right was destroyed into timbers against the wall I was facing.

“Then what will I do..?”

The box was demolished. A pitiful pile of sawdust and mold slumped against the wall. It took him barely any effort. My breath halted in my throat, almost making me choke on the air. At last, I was completely exposed. Nothing hid me from him anymore. I was just a cornered animal now. I could lift my head to see his face, but my body froze in place, almost like it was playing dead.

The green light hit me where his silhouette didn’t conceal me from it. There was truly no escape from him, which my stunned mind needed a reminder of. My stomach dangerously thrashed again, my eyes bulging wide open as they darted to his boots. I could taste the corrosive bitterness on the further end of my tongue and in my throat.

A deep dread was nailed tightly into my head as if slowly knocked deep into the brain with each step of his. I couldn’t move. My head started spinning, a blunt pain echoing through the rest of my body as I felt like I was on the brink of death. It took me my last bit of restraint not to vomit or lose consciousness.

“Maybe, you’ll sit and sigh”

“Wishing that I were near…”

He spun on his heel one last time while stretching out the soft note, letting it bleed out into the all-consuming silence. With it, the whole pinch of hope that my mind desperately held onto fell dead.

His singing paused. His earring jingled and he let out a quiet chuckle. All of this stopped being real. There is no way that this is happening to me. There is no way that I’m here, about to die in a pile of moody wood in the middle of the night. At the hand of someone I once considered my anchor. My savior, even. When did all of it go wrong? When was the point of no return?

He slowly crouched down to me, fully coming into view. Leander’s green eyes, soft before, now looked dead and empty. As they stared into my mortified expression, all I could see in his was a hardly veiled glow of sadistic glee. Leander was smiling. The same little smile as always. But this time it felt so sinister. Was it really different from how he smiled before, or did it take being cornered like this to see what Leander’s smile stood for all along?

“Then,”

“Maybe you’ll ask me to come back again…”

I couldn’t tell if Leander’s voice beckoned me like a siren’s call, or mocked my helplessness. Perhaps both. I felt small, crumpled into a futilely defensive position right before him. All while he sang. As if to sedate me in my last moments.

Leander’s eyes faintly crinkled when he tilted his head to the side, propping his cheek on his fist. He took in my vulnerability and how exposed I was. It was clearly intoxicating to him, Leander took it in like a good flush of alcohol straight to the heart. There was joy to it for Leander, his high-fazed smile felt so familiar, like all the times he smiled at me during the late nights at the Wick when he had quite a bit to drink. In that familiarity, for a moment Leander’s gaze appeared soft like it always did, but there was an unsettling darkness to it that surfaced, or only just became noticeable. Seeing it now broke me out of the trance, the illusion of tenderness that I saw moments prior was gone like a mirage. Leander observed me almost animalistically, I wanted to crawl out of my skin just to escape his eyes.

Tears involuntarily streamed down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop staring with terror right back at Leander, all while he observed with eerie amusement. My whole body broke out into a shiver, unable to stop itself from almost feverish tremors. Leander’s eyes, his smile, his voice, everything about him now was almost the same as always, but his presence made me feel like I was drowning in ice-cold waters that had no end.

In my last shred of hope, I almost wanted to deny all of this. This wasn’t Leander. Leander was someone who always offered a shoulder to cry on, someone who would go out of his way to keep everyone at peace and happy, someone who would smile along with everyone and be the soul of the company. Akin to a gentle giant.

This was someone else entirely. This was someone who gave a thoroughly long, outright draining chase, someone who held out a sense of false security and crushed it with deliberate cruelty, someone who took certain joy in feeling another’s torment at his hand and thoroughly savored it, indulged in it. Someone purely evil. Someone entirely malevolent.

Maybe it was there all along. Perhaps I was looking at a mask, a trap to lure desperate ones like me. Now it didn’t matter. It was too late. I was merely cattle waiting to be slaughtered. A lamb waiting to be sacrificed. Leander’s finger tapped against the side of his knee to the slow beat of the song. It was an almost tranquil scene. Nauseatingly so. Much akin to poison slowly seeping into the tissues of my body. I still couldn’t move, to Leander it all came with mocking ease.

“And maybe, I’ll say maybe…”

The last note went on and on, like the painfully sweet aftertaste of honey. Or like the bitterness of poison. Then it cut off. Everything fell into a suffocating silence once more. I wanted to stab it, gut it with a scream that was trying to scratch its way out of my lungs. But my body stayed still, save for the tremor, like it was turned to stone once Leander looked at me.

And Leander knew what he was doing all too well. Off-puttingly too well. It was cheap, even dirty of him, to do this to someone so much weaker than him. But that wouldn’t change the facts. I was pinned down under Leander’s gently menacing gaze like a new butterfly in a lepidopterist’s collection.

Once he took in the undoubtedly addicting silence, Leander offered another quiet laugh, his earring jiggling when he shook his head a little. Leander’s eyes were partly lidded, the lighting making the purple darkness around his eyelids seem deeper. His expression was mockingly comforting, making a visage of consolation that I would’ve fallen for even earlier today seem disturbing instead. Leander was almost pitying me, both of us knowing I was at his mercy.

I was undoubtedly cornered. There was nothing I could do in my exhausted and deteriorated state that could let me put up more than a second’s worth of a fight.

Leander didn’t need an intimidating face to instill the kind of horror I’d never felt before. His face could look however soft, but he knew at what moment to make others aware of his strength. And now I couldn’t think about anything else. Leander was way broader, stronger, way more powerful with magic, times more resilient, he knew the city way better. My eyes had never been veiled, so how have I not once noticed just how enormous he is? Not even a miracle could save me.

And, as if on cue with reading my thoughts, his smile slightly widened to reveal a dimple. Leander bit a glove off his hand and let it drop onto the pavement. My heart hammered painfully in my chest while his big smooth hand reached closer. My eyes hurt from crying, but hot tears wouldn’t stop flowing at all.

“Oh, what happened, sweetheart?” Leander cooed, brows lowering in staged concern. His hand enveloped the side of my face and held it firmly in place while his thumb wiped the tears off my cheek. I could feel the strength of his hand, he made it clear that he could crush my face at any moment, even if now he continued the gentle act for his entertainment.

Against the heat of Leander’s big hand, I could feel just how cold my face was, it was like that of a corpse. My lips trembled, I couldn’t assemble a single word, as if I forgot how to speak altogether. All that came out was a pathetic mumbly noise.

My body felt like porcelain now, his hand feeling like a sledgehammer just shy of shattering me to pieces. Leander’s control of his strength slipped so rarely that now I feel like each time was deliberate. He tried so hard to seem gentle, but would sometimes grab my hand a little too hard, hold me a little too firmly. Just how much of what I knew about Leander’s persona was consistent veiled threats?

Leander kept caressing my face almost with care, his familiar smile again reminding me of all the warnings that I missed. “Can’t talk at all, hm? Speak to me, dear, don’t worry, everything’s alright now. You’re safe.” Leander reassured, squeezing my face while his free hand reached for my wrist. He was crouched on one knee now, empty green eyes not shifting from me at all.

I pulled my hand away from his like it was about to touch a flock of poison ivy. Again, I could barely muster anything. I gulped, and a quiet sob broke out past my lips. “Stop…” a barely audible plea managed to crawl out with great effort. His smile tugged a bit wider. A glimmer of the same glee shone brighter in his eyes.

“Your face is so cold, darling. You’ve been out here for too long. Don’t you know not to walk around at night? It’s cold and dangerous. Many have reminded you of that.” Leander mused, slightly tilting his head when he caught my wrist. His grip was strong, like a metal shackle. My whole arm kept trembling. Even trying to pull back would be devoid of purpose .

Leader’s eyes. I couldn’t stop staring into them. The same soft green eyes that were once synonymous with comfort and safety were now bottomless swamps. They were devoid of warmth or solace, pulling me endlessly deeper into their darkness and suffocating me, drowning me in their sickening venom. Cold, vacant of a soul, but still hypnotizing as all hell as if he were a hunting serpent and I was its prey. Absolutely unreadable and confusing like a hoard of slithering snakes. Alluring, but reflecting sheer cruelty and only a semblance of happiness from observing my suffering. Leander’s gaze was outright chilling. It was an imperceivable horror in itself, something almost cosmically vast and terrifying as a result. Nothing I’ve ever seen in anyone’s eyes until Leander. Hauntingly beautiful. Frightening, petrifying, and paralyzing, but fascinating in the most nauseating way. It felt like watching an asteroid crash a step away from me as it destroys everything in sight. Like the stomach-churning inability to look away from gory disaser while everything ends. If looks could kill, his eyes would grant me a merciless death of excruciating torment.

He began to tug at my wrist. My hands balled up into fists. I tensed as much as possible, not letting Leander move me from my place. Leander laughed under his breath and leaned in closer to me, his broad shoulders fully blocking out the pitiful space between this self-made cage and my freedom. With that same almost endearing little smile, he said “It’s so chilly right now, look at you shaking all over. Don’t you want to get back to the Wick? You know I can help you find your way back. I can always help you. I can always keep you safe. Just trust me.” His bangs fell over his eyes, concealing a good third of his face.

I still couldn’t say a word. I knew that any movement from my current place would pull me closer into my demise. But not moving would only make him angrier. Not even my curse could affect Leander, so any resistance of mine would be like trying to move a brick wall. All I did was stare at his face, at his faintly smug smile and void-like eyes. My eyes just kept watering because I kept forgetting to blink, subconsciously afraid of dying the second my eyes would close.

Leander’s grip tightened around my wrist, my hand began to feel even colder than it was as the blood circulation began to get cut off. His expression almost felt stuck in place, it felt increasingly off-putting and uncanny the more I looked at it.

“Please…just let me go… I… I won’t say anything… I swear…” I wheezed, my words crawling out barely louder than the crushing silence. My voice was broken, my tears cracking it at every other syllable. It felt futile, but it took me all my effort to beg for my life, to show that I didn’t give up just yet.

I could almost hear the bones in my wrist crack and squelch as Leander latched onto it so tight I almost screamed. My jaw clenched, I couldn’t help squirming. My other hand scratched at Leander’s wrist, but he didn’t move a muscle.

“Oh, my dear, it’s such an awful night for walks today! There’s never a rush to walk around, plus I can always help you find warmer clothes and keep you company, you don’t need a reminder of that, do you? I can’t help but wonder what made you get out of your warm and comfortable room to explore the freezing streets! I’d love to hear all about it while I guide you back, what do you say?” The same upbeat, cheerful tone as when he first held my hand and let me touch his face. He ignored my pleas as if I never opened my mouth at all. He didn’t even show a single sign of guilt, remorse, or doubt... Leander had something specific he wanted to hear, otherwise, I could as well stay silent and embrace my fate.

I had a suspicion I couldn’t say what he wanted me to. After what I saw… I knew I couldn’t. He silently demanded it from me, but he also knew there was a chance he wouldn’t get it out of me.

We stared into each other’s eyes. His greens held a demanding flame that was only spreading, scorching over every inch of my being with time. Leander gave me a chance to say what I needed to. But he made it clear without any words that his patience wasn’t infinite and was very much wearing thin.

Leander’s hand kept slowly crushing my wrist while the other moved from my face to the back of my head. It crept along my scalp, then slowly began to grab a fistful of my hair. Tightly. I hissed, hot tears bleeding out of my hurting eyes. Neither of us dared break eye contact. My time was ticking. Leander was still smiling.

I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t. That thought just kept repeating infinitely in my head. Even if I lied, it would only give me so little to live. Leander’s Bloodhounds are loyal without question and would sniff me out from hell itself. Or he could always find me himself. Like today. I couldn’t be safe if I lied, and the fate that would befall me would be times worse than if I stayed silent now.

Leander began to pull my head backward by the hair, bending my neck out while my pulse began to hammer again. I couldn’t look away from him, my eyes still pleading and begging for any crumb of mercy while his kept demanding with newfound impatience, the curve of his lips wavering at the corner.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me, it’s okay though, you seem a bit unlike yourself right now. What do you say to me walking you back to the Wick?” Leander questioned as a last warning, this being the first time a drop of the threat spilled into his voice.

I cried and sobbed while tilting my head back. “Just let me go… please, please, please… I beg you, please… I can’t die like this…” I begged almost hysterically while my scalp burned with the pain from the tugging. It wasn’t what Leander wanted, and it looks like he saw he wasn’t getting it out of me.

Suddenly, Leander’s smile dropped. It fell so quickly, as if it hadn't been melted onto his face ever since I met him. My heart plummeted deep down to my stomach. I felt incredibly nauseated all over again. I coughed at the feeling that could only be described as my heart trying to crawl out through my mouth. My time was up.

No…

No

No

NO

NO!!!!

My breathing and heartbeat raced, and I began to struggle and thrash against Leander’s only further clenching grip. He did not back down. Didn’t even move a muscle to suppress my pitiful attempt.

With a violent jerk that shook all my innards, Leander stood up and yanked me onto my feet by the hair and wrist, throwing me at the wall. I yelped as my scalp throbbed with pain, my insides almost bouncing back from the wall at the strength of the impact.

The yelp turned into a broken scream when an indescribably painful crack came from my hand as it was slammed into the freezing wall. My head hit the planks when this happened, they almost broke at the impact and toppled over with a thud. I felt pain spreading from the top and the side of my head, it didn’t take long for warm trickles of blood to follow.

From my hair, Leander’s hand moved to seize hold of my neck. My pulse thudded against his hand with a feverish rhythm, like a useless reminder of my vitality. If anything, my panic entertained him.

His grasp was stone firm and trapping, only slightly shutting down my ability to breathe. That quickly began to change. I stared at Leander with nothing but pure dread when he lifted me to my tiptoes by the neck and leaned in close to my face. Leander forced me to witness his true monstrosity, one that he somehow concealed from most eyes for this long.

I squirmed and choked for air, coughing violently while my free limbs flailed hopelessly like the fins of a fish in the sand. Everything began to slip away.

His hand only kept clenching around my neck while he lifted me from the ground entirely. I choked and scratched at his hand and tried to bite him and begged, but it was all futile. All useless. His entirely unphased cold expression didn’t shift when my vision began to darken and become hazy at the corners. My head began to spin, my oxygen-hungry brain feeling dizzy.

“It seems you started taking the comfort, the safety I provided you with, and my kindness entirely for granted. Let me help you. Let me take you back, remind you where the line is.” His voice was a low growl, and Leander’s bloodthirsty, fury-filled eyes almost stabbed through mine when his face was inches from mine.

Croaky coughing and mumbling were all that could pass through my constricted vocal cords, but Leander kept speaking. “It saddens me so badly, dear. It breaks my heart. I didn’t dare ask for money, I didn’t even ask to recruit you. And this is my ‘thanks’? That just won’t do, Bloodhound rates or not.”

I wheezed and heaved, my body convulsing and writhing like a ball of worms. My nails stabbed into Leander’s leather glove and tried to scratch open his arm, but even with narrow streaks of red gleaming on his skin, he didn’t budge.

My field of vision further shrank. Leander’s face went in and out of focus, blurring and becoming overwhelmingly focused. Only his almost glowing green eyes didn’t fade. Shapes appeared in front of my eyes, the corners of my eyesight turning into dark static. “P…plea…se…” I croaked, what could be the last tears streaming from my face. My hands and feet were going cold as blood stopped normally circulating in my body. I started to lose feeling in my limbs. All while he mercilessly watched life draining from my eyes. Unmoving, like a statue. My eyes squeezed shut.

Suddenly, a sharp pain seared through my stomach, pushing all the pitiful remains of air I had out of my lungs. A wet warmth spread on my clothes, accompanied by the pain scorching me from the inside out. Leander stabbed me in the stomach. My blood trickled down and soon began to drip onto the floor. Then it began vigorously gushing out once Leander harshly pulled the knife out.

The cold began to spread, and my heart’s slowing beats echoed through my head. I could barely see anything, everything around me turned into a darkening haze. Except for the green eyes, which stayed brightly gleaming with nothing while scrutinizing death overcoming mine. Like he was reading an alchemy book, not one emotion in his expression.

Leander dropped me onto the ground into the puddle of my own blood. For a little more, he watched me. Then came the last moment of clarity for my eyes, and I saw Leander smiling again. That same smile that was empty all along. A husk of comfort, like a theatrical mask.

Leander picked up his glove and began to turn away on his heel. “If you earn the miracle of waking up again, you’ll know to appreciate me, right, my dear?” He waited a moment more until my near-glassy eyes fell shut.

I could hear Leander’s slow steps and humming echo as the sounds became more and more obscured by the increasing distance and gentle ringing of Death’s embrace. His singing, soft like a rain cloud, coated my head in an almost soothing feeling while all senses faded. Leander’s siren’s call kept luring me away from life.

“Then,”

“Maybe you’ll ask me to come back again…”

“And maybe, I’ll say maybe…”

Until all my senses faded out like a wax-drowned candlelight. Until the world went dark and quiet.

.

.

.

BAD END

#leander #touchstarved leander #touchstarved fic #touchstarved game #touchstarvedgame #scary Leander agenda at long last! #my current masterpiece I feel #leander x mc #leander x reader

[tadpolesonalgae]

Dark! Feysand x Human! Reader: Tag, You’re It[***]

A/N: I have no words for how much I love this ask

Summary: eenie, meenie, miny, mo, catch a lady by her toes, if she screams don’t let her go.

Warnings: Non-con, smut, breeding kink, mean Dom!Rhys, dark!Feysand, mentions of rape, slight predator play, slight necrophilia (cut off fingers), mentions of torture, 7.5k words

Necrophilia part follows from: ‘He’ll never put his hands on you again.

Well…’

“I—…what?”

The High Lady stiffens at your shocked tone. Almost horrified. Besides her, Rhysand’s eyes sharpen, piercing into you. She sucks in a calming breath. “We can get rid of your husband, you won’t have to live here anymore. With him.”

Your lips part in shock, both of their eyes following so keenly that you snap your mouth shut. “I love my husband,” you utter. “And this home is one we built together.” Silver lines your eyes as you try to summon anger but all you feel is betrayal. “I understand it’s nowhere near your level of wealth,” you flush, eyes hot, “but my husband and my house are both very dear to me. I will not leave them.”

“Just give us a chance,” Feyre whispers, gently, reaching to settle her palm over yours but you jerk back. Pain flashes through her grey-blue eyes before she smothers it. “No!” You keep your hand close to your chest, leaning away from her in the chair. “I’ve told you very clearly, High Lady—” Feyre stills at the title, in replace of her name, “—I love my husband, and he loves me. We’ve grown together throughout the years and there’s no one I would be happier to spend my life with. Besides,” you add, voice quieting as your eyes pierce into the female’s, “we’ve decided to try for a child. By this time next year I will have a baby to look after.”

She actually flinches at the line. A reminder of how fae bodies take longer to reproduce, how slim the chances are. A private worry she had confided in you, many moons ago. The High Lord’s eyes narrow, thinking about all the ways he could make you submit to them. Rhysand watches as you raise from your chair, tension rippling across his chest as you move to the door. It would be so easy to sink into your mind, slide through your mental shields and force you to your knees.

But his mate is still young and would not approve of his darker methods. He needs to find a way around the obstacle of morality, and quickly. Before you leave and things begin to get messy. Who would’ve guessed you’d be so loyal to your scummy husband? Anger burns across his chest at the thought alone. How you could put up with the man was beyond him. He knew the two of them would treat you infinitely better than he ever could. You just needed your eyes opened, to see their side.

The High Lord is brought out of his mind when Feyre stands from her chair, striding after you on her elegantly fae legs, swallowing the distance. Her movements are sharp, precise. No soft edges to be found. Her mind is hardened and he sends a question across the bond. It rebounds off a wall of glittering, black adamant, so pure his talons hardly leave a scratch.

Her hands land on your hips and you flinch when she spins you around, shoving you against the unopened door. “It wasn’t a request,” her words are lethally soft, warmth freezing over as ice slices through her eyes. “I was giving you an order.” Then her hands pin you to to the exit, holding you still by the sweep of your bones, and her mouth crushes down on your own.

You completely freeze, caught in the crossfire as you still. Your mind blanks with utter terror as she forces her tongue between your lips, tasting you as she growls. The sound has your hairs standing on end, tingling sensitivity erupting across your skin as her mouth overlaps your own.

The High Lord’s eyes widen, shock coursing through his blood as he watches, enraptured. His mate keeps you against the door, taking what she wants. Then she’s pulling back, a silver thread of saliva connecting your lips as you stare up at her. “Rhys,” she commands, and you’re paralysed as the male stands, exuding malice as he prowls forward, settling at her back. He towers over the both of you, and his violet eyes gleam with dark delight.

“Yes, my lady?” He drawls, hands settling at her waist, hunching over as he settles his chin on the elegant slope of her shoulder. Both of their hungry eyes remain on you, pinning you to the door like an insect to a dissection table. “Bedroom. Now.” Her voice cuts through the air, like a freshly forged blade through a narrow sheet of ice.

He presses a kiss to the space below her jaw, hands dancing over the lace at her sides. Violet eyes pierce into you before he vanishes, wisped away in a plume of shadows. Your eyes turn to the female’s, afraid, “Feyre—”

“‘Feyre’, now.” Her expression is stony, blue-grey eyes thunderous. “I thought you were content to address me as High Lady,” she spits out. You cower before her, power straining in the air, the metallic tinge shoving itself up your nostrils.

You swallow, raising your hands slowly in surrender, “I swear, I didn’t mean to offend—”

Her hand grips you jaw and you cry out, her nails biting into the soft skin of your cheek, “don’t back out now,” she croons, “you said what you wanted to. Chose your path.” Silver lines your eyes as terror screams in your blood. Her lips brush over yours as she leans down, eyes hard and unforgiving, “you dug your grave, now lie in it.”

Her lips once again crash over yours and you cry out, tears free-falling from your eyes, pouring down your cheeks as you try to scream. One hand snakes around your hip, keeping you still with her overwhelming strength. Her other snakes between your legs, fingers dancing through the fabric of your skirts, settling against your bare heat. She completely dominates your mouth, even as you thrash, her teeth nipping at your lips, tongue conquering your own as she shoves you into submission.

A growl rumbles across her breastbone as she feels wetness at your entrance. The heel of her palm rubs over your clit as you try to scream for her to stop, to get away from you. Two of her fingers dip into your cunt and you cry harder, writhing against her grip even if it’s utterly useless to attempt to escape her. She’s brilliantly, powerfully fae, and you’re undeniably, detrimentally human.

Your hands slide away from trying to shove her off, instead scraping at the door. If you can just find the handle—

The wood gives way behind you, allowing you to stumble back, crashing to the floor as your legs give out. She’s silhouetted in the frame, unusually tall, proportions too elongated to pass as human. Sharp talons protrude from her fingertips, glinting in the light. She snarls, and all it takes is that first step across the threshold that has you scrambling to your feet, sprinting down the hallways. An animal growl echoes along the corridor behind you, bouncing off the walls as your feet pound against the floor boards.

You swerve left, careen right, hit the stairs. You practically leap down them as you hear her following after you. Her steps are slow, leisurely, but you hear the menacing scrape of claws along wallpaper. It grates on your ears and you’re surprised you don’t trip with how weak your legs feel.

You fling a door open, dashing inside as you search for the final set of stairs to lead you down to the ground floor. It’s another hallway. There’s no time. You sprint down it, feeling the pressure of power in the air as she gains on you. You nearly trip on a rug but keep your balance, zipping down the corridors until you find a set of stairs. They only lead up.

Her footsteps echo on the dark mahogany floors, the deep red rugs doing nothing to soften their harsh thud. She’s practically behind you.

You take the stairs three at a time, breathing hard as you turn right at the top, searching for a place to hide. You run down more corridors with dark floorboards, more hallways with red rugs. Shit. You must’ve gotten turned around. Were you even on the first floor?

Where are you, little traitor?

The High Lady’s voice slices through your mind and you clutch your temples, the sound much too loud. It must mean she’s close. Fuck. You stumble along the narrowing hallways, but trip, sprawling on the floor. Pushing up, you see the loom of her shadow around the corner, lurking just out of sight. You turn on your heel, arms pumping at your sides, heart pounding in your chest.

You round a final corner and you know you can’t continue for much longer. Your throw open a door, spinning on your heel as you make sure to shut it as quietly as possible. You can’t hear it over the thunderous beat of your heart. In your peripherals, you can see your hands shaking as you release the handle, backing up on your tiptoes.

Powerful arms slide around your waist, pulling you tight against a strong chest, “there you are, little lynx.” You scream, pushing away from him as you turn. A vicious grin plays on his hellish mouth, stalking forward until you’re cornered against the wall. Your lungs are burning as you again reach for the handle, but it’s gone.

Disbelievingly, you stare at the flat wood, no sign to be found it was ever there. “What did you do?” You stammer, tears brimming at your eyes as his grin widens. “I didn’t do a single thing. That was all her.” You shrink away from him as he leans down, arms wrapping around your middle, the broad length of his shoulder pressing against your stomach.

Screams tear from your lips as he hoists you into the air with casual ease. You don’t weigh a thing to him. “Let me go!” You cry, slamming your hands into his back, aiming either side of his spine. He flings you down atop a wide mattress. Your marital bed, you realise. “Please, Rhys. My husband! What of my life!?” Your desperate pleas fall on deaf ears as his grin widens with pleasure.

“Keep still,” he drawls, arms folding over his powerful chest and you can’t find the will to move. It’s been taken from you. “I’m sure she’ll be along in a moment to decide what to do with you.” Tears blur your vision, and a moment later, the door swings open. A shiver licks up the High Lord’s spine as he sets his gaze on his mate, who is thrumming with dark power. Embracing the Night.

You scramble back on the bed, up to the headboard, pressing into the corner as she prowls across the room. Her talons glitter in the fading light, the room awash with blues and greys as darkness descends. “You want to make this difficult, little traitor?” She spits, standing at the end of the mattress. You shake your head, mouth trembling as your hands shake.

The grey-blue of her eyes shutter at your answer. “Come here.” One slim finger points to the spot directly in front of her. You swallow, tremors wracking your muscles but you manage to sporadically push forward. Maybe you should listen to her, get her out of that cold, wrathful state. Hands settling shakily into the sheets, you crawl forward, stopping before her as you sit back on your calves, kneeling placatingly.

“Rhys,” she addresses, never taking her cold eyes from you, “sit down.” He follows her orders, taking one of the comfortable armchairs facing the bed. He sprawls across the seat as if it’s a throne, long legs crossing over one another as he settles for the show.

Feyre’s claws retract, hand fisting in your hair sternly. “Eyes on me.” Instantly, you return you gaze to her, and her grip lessens. “Will you be good for me?” The question slices through your tender threads of hope. Your lower lip wobbles, but you nod. You just need an opening. Maybe you can throw yourself out the window.

The High Lady’s eyes pierce into you, staring deep into your soul. “Kiss me,” she commands, and you still.

“W—…what?”

“Prove you’ll be good. Kiss me. Show me you mean it.” Her brow narrows, “unless you’re lying.”

“Fey—” She glowers at the pet name you’ve had for her. “Feyre. Please.” Your hands raise to settle on her hips, holding her in reverent supplication, bowing your head, appealing to the friend you’d once had. “Maybe, if my husband could—”

She snarls, cutting you off as she jerks your head upright. “That useless sack of meat doesn’t deserve you.” You swallow down your tears at the way she speaks about the man you love, heart stinging, wishing he could be here to hold you. You were so close to your happy ever after. “But if he could just come with me! Then…then maybe…” You meet her gaze heart sinking. “You can have me.”

A thunderous growl resonates throughout the dark room and you try to shrink from her, hands pulling away as if stung. “The next time you mention him, I’ll kill him myself.” Despair wracks your heart, shuddering within its boney cage. You fling your arms around her in a last effort to summon forward the gentle friend you’d had, your closest companion, the one who you had thought you’d listen to above anyone else. Her word had been law unto you, until she’d changed.

“Please, Fey,” you sob weakly, shuddering in her arms. She stiffens under your touch, finally feeling your skin against hers as she’d dreamt about for so long. She can feel the rise and fall of your chest, the full press of your breasts against her own, the soft tickle of breath over her shoulder as your arms grip her tightly. As if you’re scared to let go of her. “I know you’re in there…” Hot droplets land on the bare expanse of her shoulder, pooling in the dip of her collar bone. “So please, come back to me. I miss you so much. Come back, Fey…”

Her hands brace your waist, gently pulling you from her. You settle back onto your knees, hands flat against her neck, just below her jaw as you look at her with dim hopefulness. You watch as her eyes glaze, in discussion with her mate. When she speaks, her voice has softened, something of her old kindness lighting the icy grey of her eyes. “Why do you love him?”

Tears spill as hope lights in your chest. “He completes me, Fey. Like how you say Rhys completes you. I can’t—…without him, I… I wouldn’t be me, Fey. He makes me whole.” You look up at her with pleading eyes, her own softening just a fraction. “It’ll pass,” she soothes, hand landing atop your head with a feather-light touch, stroking your hair calmingly.

“What…?”

Sadness lies in the depth of her dark gaze, “you’ll recover from him. Like I did from Tamlin. You’ll get better. My sweet girl…just let us help you.” The spark dims, snuffed out by her words. Then the torrent of emotions rain down on you as your hands fist in the collar of her low cut dress, pulling yourself up until you’re chest to chest. “How would you feel, Feyre?” You shout at her, tears pouring down your cheeks as you feel like you’re being cleaved in two. “What would you do if someone tried to take you away from Rhys? How would you feel if they tried to force you like you’re doing to me?”

“Why have one when they could have both?” She murmurs, looking deep into your eyes. You shake your head as her own hands slide adoringly up your sides, cupping your jaw. “No…that’s not… You’re not listening to me!”

“I drink in every word you give me, treasure every moment of your company in the chambers of my memory,” she breathes over your lips. You’re sucked into her mind, swallowed as she shows you yourself through her eyes. When you and your husband were struggling badly and you’d broken down, crying and shaking in her arms. When she’d tried to leave you alone on your birthday, thinking you’d want to share it with the man you claimed to love. Yet you had snuck out - after dark - to her own mansion in the human lands, where you knew she had made the journey to in order to at least be around to celebrate.

Her memories swarmed your mind, tainting the once dear images with a sinister gleam, a lurking presence waiting for the right moment to pounce.

The High Lady sees that same look in your eyes as the night you’d confessed to skipping meals to ration food over the harsh winter, the despair. The doubt you’d survive. She doesn’t want to hurt you, but she knows you’ll be better away from him. You just need the bandage ripped off, like what Rhys had done for her when he’d saved her from the Spring Court. She’d been dissonant at first, but had come back to life under his care.

And they could do the same for you. Nurture and guide you until you were healed of your husband’s marks. Until you wouldn’t question a lone grave dug in your back garden in the house you would leave behind. For them. They could keep you as you are, take you into their home, welcome you to their bed. She knows it will take a while, months perhaps for you to come to terms, to understand the past, but the time will come. Second by agonising second.

“But he loves me, Fey. I can’t leave him behind. He’s my husband.”

She doesn’t remind you of the threat she’s made. Of the promise she will now fulfil.

“I love you!” She snarls, pressing her forehead against your own. “We…Both of us. Rhys and I…we love you so much it hurts.” You stare up at her with wide eyes, stunned. Your head shakes subtly, trying to deny her. “We do, sweet girl,” she agonises, “you’re everything to us. The sun, the moon, all the stars. They’re nothing to you. Our Court, our people, our realm. We would pick you over them a hundred— forever.”

“No…” you whimper, hands going slack at your sides.

“We’ll take care of you. You’ll never be without a meal. Never sleep alone at night. Never worry you won’t survive a season ever again. We can be your stability. Just let us have you.”

“Fey…”

She pulls you to her mouth, swallowing down your pained whimpers as she drinks you down. Her hand twines around your waist, pulling your middle against hers. Your hands settle just above her chest, weakly pushing away from her.

She comes back harder, making you lean back in her arms, allowing her to splay you out on your own marital bed. When she pulls away, you’re panting, heart pounding. Through teary eyes you peer up at her, “you can’t do this, Fey…” you whimper, voice cracking, “you’re supposed to be my friend… You’re not supposed to…use me, like this.”

“We’re not going to use you, sweet girl,” she breathes over your lips, “we’re going to love you.” You shake your head frantically, attempting to pull away from her treacherous mouth, “but I don’t want that!”

“You will… You just need to understand. See how much better we can treat you. You’ll be bathing in pleasure before you know it. You’ll never want to leave our bed.”

You move to protest but a scent catches your attention, deep and musky. The High Lady’s eyes glaze, pausing as she speaks to her mate. You take the precious seconds to prepare yourself for the inevitable. They’re going to take you. On your marriage bed. You bite the inside of your lip, trying to prevent the tears.

Her eyes regain their life, sadness in their depths. “I’m sorry it had to happen this way.” Her lips brush against yours, a shudder slithering down your spine that she misinterprets. Her nose brushes you own in what’s supposed to be an affectionate gesture.

The High Lord raises from his chair. He’s seen enough. Now it’s time to partake.

You stiffen as he prowls closer, eyes widening as you stare up at the female. “You’re not…” you trail off, looking at her, stunned. “You’re going to let him rape me?”

Her eyes soften slightly. “We love you, sweet girl. It’s not rape.”

“My husband loves me, and yet he—!” Your eyes snap wide, hands slapping over your mouth as you freeze, terror icing your veins as they both still. “I didn’t— that—… I’m sorry…”

“He did what?” Fury sluices through the room as it blazes in her cold eyes. Their lips pull back from their teeth, rage burning in the air. You shake your head desperately, trying to swallow back the words you’ve already spat out. Talons slice from her fingernails as her canines sharpen, pupils slitting with pure outrage.

“I’m going to slaughter him,” she realises, breathing the violent words onto your lips. You flinch. “No…” you whimper, “Fey, you don’t understand…! He was drunk! He didn’t know what he was doing!” You cry. The High Lady moves to pull away from you but your arms grip over her shoulders, legs clasping around her waist. She just pulls you with her as she stands. Feyre barely even registers your weight as she steps away from the bed.

Your thighs squeeze her hips as you try not to fall, burying your face into her hair. “It was only once…he didn’t mean to. I know he didn’t. I don’t think he even remembers it.” Her body stiffens as you cry into her shoulder. Like you’ve done so many times before. And it feels familiar. A warm breath of summer air in the depths of a Winter Court snowstorm.

But your confession plays over and over again in her mind, a curse on repeat. “Rhys,” she murmurs, summoning her mate. They exchange glances, coming to an agreement. Strong arms sneak around your waist, holding your back to his chest as Feyre steps from your arms. Panic tears through you as you struggle against his iron grip. “No!” You rasp, voice breaking, “you mustn’t! You can’t kill him!”

She plants a kiss to your forehead, brushing away free strands of hair. “I’ll be back. Rhys’ll look after you,” she murmurs against your mouth and you cry. “I don’t want him! I don’t want either of you! I want my husband!”

“Don’t say that,” the male speaks from behind you, making you jump in his arms, “you want us to be gentle, don’t you?” The High Lady snarls, shooting him a threatening look. You can practically feel the smirk on his hellish mouth.

“If you hurt her…” Feyre snarls, and for a second, you think you see part of the old her shining through. Then the High Lord presses a placating kiss to your cheek, soothing his mate. “Now, do you want to deal with him, or should I?” He spits, and you know who they’re talking about. You attempt to crawl out of his arms but his head dips again, littering kisses to the slope of your neck.

You whine as you try to scrabble away, out of his dominating hold, desperately trying to escape the invasive press of something hard at your lower back. His hips roll against yours and a startled whimper that sounds a bit too much like a moan flies from your lips. Both of them still. You can feel their penetrating gazes piercing into you, willing you to repeat the sound for them. They’ve gotten a taste, now they want more.

The High Lady steps forward, cupping your jaw as she affectionately lays kisses to your cheeks and nose, as if kissing invisible dots. “Rhys’ going to take care of you while I’m gone. Okay, sweet girl?” You look at her pleadingly. “Please…” your heart pumps as you feel him twitch at the whimper. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone with him.”

Feyre kisses the bridge of your nose comfortingly. “He won’t be mean to you, sweetness. Just try to get along and everything will be fine. He won’t hurt you.” Tears spill down your cheeks as you try to grab for her. It’s a no-brainer to pick her over the High Lord who’s been ruling for centuries. You have no doubt he has near depthless experience in breaking those he views as heretics, bending them to his will.

Despite everything, Feyre still holds an modicum of safety to her person. Rhysand seems to view morality as a loose guideline if it gets in the way of what he wants. And right now, he wants you.

She puts a kiss to your lips and - praying to the mother for forgiveness - you kiss her back, desperately trying to sway her mind so she’ll stay. She moans, but pulls away, leaving your mouth cold. “I’ll be back to join before you know it. But for now,” her eyes turn ice blue, jaw tightening, “I’m going to deal with that man.”

And like that, she vanishes, leaving you alone with the monster at your back. He noses at your throat scenting you, picking up on something he likes. “That was mean, little lynx,” he mutters begrudgingly beside your ear. You shudder, and he forcefully guides you back to the bed. Rhysand pushes you forward, making you tumble down onto the mattress, bent over.

Frantically, your hands scramble for purchase, attempting to wriggle away from him but his large hands grip your hips. “Rhys…” you whimper into the sheets, too afraid to look at him. A deep groan resonates in his chest, grabbing you tight as he lifts you onto the bed, forcefully enough that your arms give out, sticking your ass in the air. You move to lift your upper half from the bed, but something prevents you—a dark power that laces around your muscle and bone, threading narrowly through cartilage.

You’re stuck, face pressing into the sheets, hind perking up.

Hairs raise all across your body as his fingers trail up your calves, catching on the material of your dress as he eases it up over the backs of your thighs. You struggled when he pushes it over your ass, revealing the thin slip of material that clings desperately to your hips.

“Rhysand…” you weep into the mattress. You don’t even know what you’re trying. If Fey hadn’t budged, there’s no way you could convince him. He shushes you—surprisingly gently. Horridly so. He shifts behind you on the bed, and you feel the invasive press of something between you—

“Rhys!” You scream. His hands wrap around the tops of your thighs, pulling you back against his face as he inhales. “Rhys! Stop that!” You cry, hips wiggling as you attempt to squirm away from him. His grip only tightens, and a soundless scream tears from your throat as he hooks his fae fingers beneath your underwear, pulling it away. Then he’s pressing straight back in, nose flush against your slick hole, mouth prone to attack your clit. It flicks out, gently, testing you out.

You feel the serpentine grin on his hellish mouth, before his lips part over you, groaning as his silver-tipped tongue gilds your glossy cunt.

Shame and mortification thrill inside of you at how quickly he has you unravelling on him. Tears wet the sheets, hot and salty. He moans at your taste, finally raising from between your legs, only to mount you like a whore.

A new wave of terror splits down your throat as you feel him against your ass. One powerful arm loops around your middle, the other snaking beneath your jaw so he can brush his words over your mouth. “That wasn’t so bad, was it, little lynx?” He lifts you so you’re on your hands and knees, back curving in an attempt to relieve the press of his skin anywhere from your body.

The High Lord’s grip tightens on your jaw, and you’re worried he’ll fracture the bone. “That damned husband of yours ever treated this cunt so good?” You don’t even try to move, fearful he’ll snap something. You wince as his grip strengthens, and panic floods your body. You attempt to squirm free of his grip, but your ass ends up pushing back into his hips, a growl sounding in his chest at the action.

“That desperate to have her treated well, huh?”

You swallow, jerking away from him. He releases you suddenly, chuckling to himself as you fall forward into the bed. Immediately, you’re rolling onto your back, scrambling up the bed to get away from him. The High Lord prowls after you, cornering you when your back presses against the wall, slotting himself between your thighs. He’s so much larger than your human form, deadly power writhing in the dark halo of shadow that surrounds him.

“Come on,” he chides, cupping your jaw as you squeeze your eyes shut, blocking him out any way you can. He makes a noise of displeasure, before his soft, cruel mouth lands over your own. A whimper slides from your throat as he nips at your lips, tongue flicking out carefully. You try not to thing about what that flavour is. “Open up for me.”

With a shake of your head, the tears fall and you feel the hot, wet trace of his tongue dancing over your cheek, lapping up the salty paths. When he reaches the damp underside of your lashes, you flinch away, peering up at him. “There you go,” he murmurs, thumb brushing the cleft of your cheek. “Stop struggling, and this will all be so much more enjoyable for you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you say nothing. You’ve used up all your pleading words, all your exploring supplications. There’s no way to appeal to them, they’ve set their minds of you. Maybe you should just give up, as they say. Just let them have you. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad…

You hiss as you suck in a breath, realising what he was doing. Before he could fully grasp your mind, you spat at him, aiming just below his violet eye. It widened, staring at you in vague shock. He lifted one hand to his cheek, thumb swiping at the saliva as he wiped it away. The trembling swallowed your whole body as his eyes turned back to you, filled with cold violence. No more warmth. No more gentleness.

Good.

You could go down swinging.

A snarl thundered throughout the room as shadows engulfed the bed, obscuring your vision. You screamed when his mouth opened over your throat, viciously biting at the junction of your neck and shoulder. His teeth scrape over your clavicle, menacingly. His hands wrap beneath your ass, tugging you toward him as you’re manoeuvred into his lap, still rendered blind.

Through the darkness, you try to shove at him, at least pierce him with your nails. Maybe if you could find his eyes, you could dig into them. The menacing click of talons could be heard through the shadows, and you nearly froze with petrifaction as the glittering claws sliced, slowly, down your spine. The material of your clothes peel away the further he splits them. A ripping sound comes from behind you and you know it’s the last of your dress being shredded as he pushes it from your body.

Your hands find his shoulders and you raise them to his jaw, nails biting down into his skin, one thumb catching beneath his upper lip—and you nearly slice yourself on his canines. He snarls, and then you’re lifted from his lap, only to be pushed back down.

You scream bloody murder as his cock glides into you easily. You writhe and thrash against him, but every movement causes him to shift inside of you, making your inner muscles flex. He forces you down into the mattress, large hands tipped with glittering talons pinning you painfully. “You were rather cruel to my mate earlier, weren’t you, little lynx?” Rhysand drawls, tone dripping with malevolent vengeance. “Gloating how easily your human body can sustain life?” You whimper at the reminder. “I didn’t mean it,” you sniffle, eyes burning, “it wasn’t supposed to come out like that.”

“Uh, uh, uh. You said what you said, little liar. You know it upsets her, how slim our chances are, as High Fae.” You hiss as he draws his hips back, rolling them against yours. “So how about I put a baby in you instead, huh?”

————

Every second away from you is another second of torture, but she calms herself by scratching the itch. Her talons are glittering with blood, his eyes plucked clean out, mouth petrified into an eternal scream, a wound in his ribs surrounded by shredded flesh where his heart had been pulled from the cage of bone. His fingers are tucked away in the pocket of her pants.

It made her feel a little better, that he’d never lay a hand on you again.

Still.

She’d been gone too long, enjoying herself too much in tearing the man apart with her fae strength, and had forgotten you’d been left with her mate. The High Lady hisses in frustration. She’d wanted to be there, take part in the first time either of them got to touch you… But she’d had to. She wouldn’t have been able to enjoy you, otherwise, knowing such pain still haunted you.

Feyre would get answers out of you later, about why you hadn’t told her when it had happened. The Mother knows she would have whisked you away faster than winnowing. How long has you been keeping that from her? She grinds her teeth, spitting at the corpse, before leaving him in the chair. For later.

With a fraction of a thought, she’s cleaned the grin from her skin, talons retracting into smoothly padded fingers, slim and delicate. Perfect for you. She winnows to the top of your house, stood just outside, where she pauses for a moment. From inside she can hear the distinctive, pleading whimper of your voice, coupled with soft groans from her mate. The corpse is forgotten, her hand snaking between her legs as she listens.

When she opens the door, fierce arousal smacks her in the face, overpowering from being locked up in this room for so long. The High Lady’s mouth waters as she takes the sight in. Rhysand is tucked beneath you, strong, finely muscled arms set lightly over your hips, brushing over your waist. You’re spread over him, sitting tightly in his lap, chest to chest, your legs splayed out behind him. You’re completely at his mercy, unable to lift or move, just cling to him as he rolls his hips in an erotic lullaby of groans.

“Come on,” he whispers beside your ear, “be my good girl, yeah?” Your hips shift, back curving, breasts dragging over his chest. “Take it,” he implores, quietly, the soft caress of a lover’s voice. You try to bury your face in his neck, hiding from the world, but he doesn’t let you. His hand fists in your hair, tugging you backward, chidingly. His grip changes to your jaw, lifting your eyes to his. “You were so eager before. What happened? Too much?” He taunts, mouth brushing over yours and she watches as a shiver spider walks down your spine. The High Lady takes a step forward and your eyes loll to hers, rimmed with wet lashes.

Shakily, you reach out a hand to her. “Feyre…” you wail, lower lip trembling. “Make him stop…” Rhys’ hips buck and you slump into him, hand dropping as he lets you collapse into the strong lines. His hand brushes affectionately over your hair, soothingly as he basks in the hot wetness of drool spilling from the corner of your mouth onto his skin.

The High Lady coos, moving closer, leaning over to look at you. Your eyes are a little puffy, lips nipped raw, gaze glazed while your chin glistens with… heat licks between her thighs. Rhysand’s been having a lot of fun with you. Your stomach is gleaming with cum, and when he lifts you from his cock, slamming you back down, she sees the creamy ring circling base of his cock. Release has long since stained the sheets beneath you and she wonders how much longer you’ll last with your human strength.

Your head tips back, baring your throat as you flutter around his cock, tears dripping from your sore eyes. How many times has he made you come? On his thigh? On his fingers? His mouth, his cock? You’re on the verge of oblivion, yearning desperately to be swept away from the torment.

“Rhys,” she scolds, softly, helping you to lie back as he draws his hips back, pulling out. He shoots her a wicked grin, “just warming her up for you.” She shoots him a glare before her eyes settle on you. More the thick and constant leak of cum seeping out of your hole. Just how full had he gotten you?

Detecting the direction of her eyes, Rhys smirks, “we thought an apology was in order for how she spoke to you.” His attention returns to your bruised body, making you shrink away, attempting to scuttle up the mattress, but you’re so sensitive. So tired, and worn out.

Feyre raises a brow in silent question. He grins, prowling forward until he’s caging you in. With each movement you make to get away from him, your inner muscles flex, pushing small waves of come from your hole. Rhys tuts, three fingers pushing into you, tucking the creamy liquid back inside of you. “Why don’t you let Feyre what we were doing, hm?” Your lower lip trembles, but you answer obediently, too scared of what he’ll do should you fight back. “Wanted…wanted to put a baby in me.” You whimper, feeling the drag of his fingers against your inner walls. His thumb rubs gently over your puffy clit, making you whine. She wants to be the one drawing those sounds from you.

It’s her turn to play with you. Rhys’ had you to himself this whole time, while she doesn’t even know what you taste like.

“Rhysand.” She barks, drawing his attention. He knows he’s in trouble, but he offers a sinful grin none the less. “I think you deserve a break, don’t you?” She growls possessively, noting how your eyes warm to her with twisted gratitude. His eyes spark with anticipation, waiting to see what she’ll do with you.

Reluctantly, he moves away from you, leaning against one of the broad bed posts. Feyre’s attention switches to you as she coos, crawling onto the bed, ignoring the creamy stains decorating the sheets. Even if she wants nothing more to lap at them. “Was he being mean to you, sweetness?” She murmurs, lifting you into a sitting position as you hiss. She can tell just from looking to your eyes that your mind is muddled, either from Rhysand fucking you dumb for the past hours or from being tampered with. Either way, she’s not too bothered, if it works in her favour.

You nod with weary eyes, looking up at her with lost hopefulness. “Want me to help you feel better, hm? He was so rough with you, wasn’t he?” You latched onto her at the first sign of sympathy, nodding desperately. She kisses your lash line, “it’s going to be okay now. I’m going to take care of you. You want that?” Your lower lip wobbles as you nod.

She plants a kiss to your nipped lips, before descending between your legs. At first you squirm, hating the idea of having more between your thighs, but she pushes them open firmly. You whimper as her hot breath caresses your slick heat, puffy clit already aching. But when her mouth attaches to you, it’s soft and wet. No teeth to be found, just the gentle tug of tips and the soothing lap of her tongue. Slowly, you stop trying to shut your legs on her, thighs even opening a little wider.

Feyre indulges you, moving so affectionately over your pussy, lapping up the release that’s steadily leaking from your hole, even as she feels Rhys huffing in the back of her mind. “Does that feel better, sweet thing?” She questions, settling a kiss just below your clit, her nose bumping the sensitive nub. “…yeah.” She laughs softly, pulling away from your cunt as she crawls back up over you.

“Did Rhys use your pretty mouth?” She asks, and heat flushes your salty cheeks. You shake your head, tears welling, brimming at the edges. She smiles gently, “I’ll take that first, between us, then.” More tears fall but you nod, obedient. Fearing what will happen should you disobey. She’s being so gentle with you, and you don’t think you can stand another round of Rhysand’s games.

The High Lady swings a leg over your head, hovering above your mouth. The smell of her pussy is overpowering, making you go dizzy. Oh so gently, her arms loop beneath the small of your back, pulling you upward until her back is straight. The tops of your thighs settle seamlessly over her shoulders, baring your heat to her as if you’ve been served on a tray.

“Oh, sweet, sweet girl,” she breathes, pushing her nose to your entrance and inhaling deeply, like the High Lord had done. She seats herself on your mouth, and you can instantly feel how wet she is. You whimper. Her hips roll in response. “Come on, sweetness,” she encourages, “or should I let Rhys join?” Your tongue darts out, licking along to her centre. She moans, happily, basking in the feeling. “Perfect little thing.”

Feyre returns her mouth to your cunt, and for a while, you think you can cope. You think the worst of it has passed. Rhys isn’t able to touch you any time soon. At least, not while Feyre’s keeping him where he is, though you wonder how long that’ll last.

Her mouth disconnects from your cunt, and you almost whine in protest. “I did some thinking,” she murmurs, drawing your attention. “Your husband…” You can tell she still angry even at the mention of him. She takes in a deep breath, before delivering a small lap over your clit, as if to remind her that you are hers now. He’ll never put his hands on you again.

Well…

“I thought you might like to be with him one more time…” Your stomach drops. She reaches into her pocket, pulling out your husbands fingers, cloaked in magic. Even Rhys’ breath catches, before it’s exhaled in a quiet moan. “So I took the liberty of bringing parts of him to you, since he’s now incapacitated.” Pain lances in your chest, and Rhys blankets your mind to keep it from shattering. Dulling the information.

Her hips wind over you, slightly demandingly. “I think I’m being very kind, sweet thing. Show your gratitude.” You’re more or less unaware of what’s about to happen, following her commands brainlessly. He’s keeping you just to the surface of consciousness. Enough to give you breath, but not enough to escape.

Your mouth reattaches to her sex, even if a small part of you screams against it.

She presses the tip of something against your entrance, and you whine, hips bucking upward. She laughs softly, “you don’t even know what I’m doing to you, do you?” She pushes it all the way in, and Rhys’ hand fists around his cock. An open mouthed moan is released onto her pussy at the feeling of the slight, phallic object.

“Oh well done, sweet thing. Taking all of it, aren’t you? So good.” Her mouth reattaches to your cunt, and you release a pleasured moan that you can no longer contain. How did things get so messy? They were your friends. You could trust them. Yet here you are, with Feyre mounted atop your face, Rhys having already had his turn with stimulating your body.

She moans against your clit, lips kissing up and down your heat as she drinks you in until your fluttering on her mouth. Her tongue was a joyous reprieve from the High Lord, pleasuring you enough to gently spin you over that high, but not enough to throw you off the edge to crash down.

You’re swimming in pleasure, so overstimulated, so worn out, that it takes them a while to notice you’ve passed out. When they do, they stop—albeit reluctantly.

Feyre settles beside you, tucking both of you beneath the covers as her arms encase you, leaving her mate to clean up the mess. When he does, he crawls in beside you, his arms pulling both his female’s close to him. His wings materialise, wrapping over the both of you, concealing their crime from the world as they keep you slotted between them. Quiet, peaceful breaths puff from your lips as your human body recovers from the events.

They litter kisses over your exposed skin while you sleep, one for every star they see you in.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

#dark!feysand #dark! Feyre #dark! Rhysand #Feysand x reader #dark! Feysand x reader #dark! Feyre x f!reader #x f!reader #June #dark! Rhysand x reader #dark! Feysand x reader smut

[literary-motif]

Hey girl your writing is AMAZING and so CHEFS KISS.

Could you please write an NSFW of Isaac and listener on listeners birthday? (Tots not my birthday 🫣) and Isaac being the dominant one and all 🤭

Happy (belated) birthday. I hope you had a lovely day. Thank you for the request!

Birthday Gift (NSFW)

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

The door to the bedroom falls shut silently. Isaac is on you in an instant, cupping your cheeks and connecting his lips to yours in a soft kiss. The gentleness he pours into his movements catches you off guard, not expecting the infinite care you feel in his touch when the heat between you two is so palpable.

Isaac has been teasing you with soft squeezes and lingering lips all day, riling you up until you could not take any more and demanded that he follow up on his whispered promises. After all, it is incredibly unfair to tease you like that on your birthday. Judging by the tent in his slacks, he has run out of patience as well.

Slowly, he backs you towards your shared bed, keeping his lips locked with yours. His steps are slow and measured. He seemingly has all the time in the world to guide you backwards as if caught in a dance, until your legs hit the bedpost and a moan escapes you, muffled by his lips.

Your eagerness makes Isaac smirk. “I think you’ll like the surprise I have for you,” he whispers, looking at you with dark eyes. His pupils are blown wide with lust, the sight of his already disheveled state causing a thrill of excitement to shoot through you. With his gentle push against your shoulder, you fall onto the bed.

Isaac ravishes you so well, that the knot in your stomach tightens just thinking about what he will do to you.

“Is it really a surprise though?” you tease, backing up on the bed to lay on the mattress properly. “I already know what you— you will—” Isaac smiles mischievously before joining you on the bed, propping himself up to lean over you, his face mere inches from yours. His closeness and the intensity of his gaze make you stumble over your words, suddenly nervous. His proximity has that effect on you, especially when you can feel his soft breath fawning across your face.

“Yes?” he tilts his head to purr into your ear. “When you already know what?”

“When I—” you begin, caught off by his mouth on your neck. He places open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive skin, one of his hands finding itself tangled in your hair while the other trails down your clothed chest, teasing you with soft touches. When Isaac finds the spot that has you squirming under him, he nibbles on it, encouraged further by the moan that escapes you. “When—” He sucks on it gently, making you lose your train of thought again. Isaac moves his lips to your pulse point, humming in satisfaction at your elevated heartbeat against them.

“When you what, Pickle?” he asks, ceasing to leave marks on you for a moment to raise his head and look into your hazy eyes. The pleasure clouding your thoughts was his doing, and he took pride in seeing you so undone beneath him. So needy for him. He places a knee in between your legs, nudging them further apart.

“Fuck,” you curse, exhaling shakily as his movement went straight to your core. “When I know what you’ll do next,” you finish. That idea was already disproven. You weren’t used to Isaac being quite so teasing.

“Oh,” he says, amusement coloring his tone as he bends down to pepper kisses on your face, “and you think I’m only going to do the usual and fuck you into the mattress until there are no thoughts left in that beautiful head of yours? On your special day at that? Not a chance.” His filthy words contrast so starkly with his soft kisses that you can’t help but blush, but before you can look away, his fingers take hold of your chin, gently forcing you to keep looking at him. “Today is all about you. I will take my time.”

“Isaac,” you whine, not at all interested in the drawn-out teasing he has just promised you. The need burning within you makes you buck your hips against his knee, running your fingers through his hair and pulling just the way he likes to make his resolve crumble. “Come on, just fuck me already.”

In a heartbeat, Isaac pins your wrists above your head, chuckling at the pout you give him. “None of that,” he says, kissing and sucking on your neck again. “I want you to stay still and relax for me. You don’t need to do anything right now, alright? Can you do that for me?”

His lips on your skin make your eyes flutter shut. “Yeah,” you breathe, resigned to your fate and battling your impatience in favor of just feeling the moment and enjoying Isaac’s touch. It is significantly harder to suppress the urge to wrap your arms around his neck, scratching his back as you turn into putty under his hands. 

“Good,” he praises between kisses, “so good for me. So Good. I love you.” His touch trails from your wrists down your arms, moving slowly across your neck until Isaac reaches your chest, working the buttons of your shirt open with skilled fingers. 

His words of praise make you shudder, pleasure coiling within you as your shirt falls open and Isaac kisses a trail down your chest until he reaches your stomach. “Love— Love you too,” you sigh, trying not to move your hips against him. 

Isaac teases you relentlessly, making you squirm as he caresses your hips with a touch so feather-light it could be imaginary. “I thought I told you to hold still,” he says with a smirk, looking up at you as he places another kiss against your lower belly, hands brushing along your inner thighs in a movement that has you whining in frustration.

“And I thought you wanted to surprise me with a birthday gift,” you say breathlessly, glancing at Isaac kneeling between your spread legs, the sight alone making your mouth water. His hands are still resting on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles into the hollow of your inner thighs. “You are torturing me instead! Come on, please.”

He raises an eyebrow, hands freezing their motion. “Torturing you?” he asks in feigned disbelief, his voice carrying a dangerous undertone. You moan quietly. “We can’t have that now, can we?” Isaac smiles darkly at you. “Spread your legs, then. Further.”

It takes him less than a minute to be buried to the hilt inside of you, stretching you so deliciously it makes you mewl. He barely gives you time to adjust before moving, picking up the pace immediately. “Shit, Isaac—” you gasp, moans tumbling from your lips as he snaps his hips against yours, filling you up and stretching you out.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” he groans, placing his hand on your stomach and pressing down slightly, feeling himself move inside of you. “Didn’t you want me to fuck you like this? Were you not begging for it? Well, I’m sure you feel me now.” 

You hold onto his arms, trying to anchor yourself through the brutal pace he sets in rolling his hips against yours. “Yes,” you breathe, your grip tightening as he hits a spot that makes your toes curl. “Yes, right there. Please.”

Isaac stops moving and you nearly sob in frustration. He reaches toward something by his side and tilts forward, towering over you. “I told you not to move, I believe,” he says darkly, pinning your wrists above your head again. “Guess I’ll have to use my tie to keep you where I want you.”

You glance upwards, watching him wrap his tie around your wrists. The sight of the red fabric tying you up makes your breath hitch, eyes falling shut briefly to savor the feeling of it against your skin, Isaac himself trapping you beneath him. You will never be able to look at that tie without thinking about him inside you again.

“Is this alright?” he whispers suddenly, your eyes opening again to gaze at the soft expression on his face. “Not too tight? How do you feel?”

The genuine concern in his eyes makes your heart melt, warmth spreading across your chest that has nothing to do with the heat curling in your stomach. Isaac makes you feel safe and sometimes that thought alone is enough to bring tears to your eyes. You trust him with all of you, and you know he does the same. “Perfect,” you answer, smiling brightly at him. There is so much you want to tell him, your heart already overflowing with affection for him. Still, you settle on a teasing, “But I’d feel better if you kissed me right now.” 

He complies because of course he does, propping himself up on his elbows to kiss you deeply. One of his hands moves to your thigh, shifting it to spread your legs apart before his cock claims you again.

The new angle allows him to reach further into you, tearing even more moans from you as you slowly succumb to the rising tide of pleasure. Isaac increases the pace, fucking into you faster as he can feel your thighs trembling against his sides. 

“You’re doing so well,” he says, breaking the kiss to murmur against the skin of your cheek. “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful, I wish you could see yourself like this. All fucked out— just for me. You’re mine. Mine.” 

“Isaac—” you moan, feeling yourself reaching your peak of pleasure, “I’m gonna— I need to— please!”

He grabs your waist, keeping it steady as he moves his cock inside you with renewed vigor. “Me too,” he pants, placing his lips on yours again, “It’s alright, let go. Come for me, beautiful. That’s it. Happy Birthday.”

You shudder against him as your high crashes over you, gasping his name as you come on his cock. Isaac bucks his hips a few more times, following soon after with a cry of pure bliss. He pants heavily for a few moments, pulling out slowly before reaching up and freeing your hands from his tie. 

Lying down next to you, he observes your heaving chest for a moment. “How are you feeling?” he asks, taking your hand and massaging the spot where his tie had dug into your skin.

“Good. Thank you,” you answer, leaning your forehead against his. “A very special birthday gift, Isaac. You outdid yourself.”

He chuckles, his hand coming to rest on your hip again. “Catch your breath, Pickle. The day isn’t over yet.”

#sakuverse #isaac rhoades x reader #minors dni #y'all have smut requests which I respect but it takes me a lot of effort to write them so pls bear with me #isaac rhoades

[spookyspecterino]

Gentle Promises in the Dark

Sam Coe x GN! Starborn! Reader

GN! Reader. No pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions.

Spoilers for Starfield's endgame content.

No warnings. There's just a pinch of anxiety, but it's all fluff and happiness.

Sam asks what your future plans are. Will you leave him in search for another universe or stay behind?

This was a lovely request! I'll be closing them for now, just because I have more to catch up on and I've been getting distracted. Thank you to everyone for supporting my work! This fandom has been so welcoming and lovely to interact with!

Sam lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It must be late by now. But he isn’t tired, his mind turns over and over with endless thoughts.

A faint ray of light draws his attention, it’s the bedroom door opening just a crack for you to slip in. It shuts right behind you, returning the room to its inky blackness. His thoughts halt with the sound of your quiet footsteps.

Sam feels you slide under the covers, your feet are cold, as usual, and you snuggle up to him. Instinctually he’s moving to let you lay on his bare chest—your favorite spot.

“Hey.” You whisper, sounding content at last.

“Darlin’.” He drawls back in greeting, wrapping his arms around you.

“You doing ok? You’re not usually awake this late.”

“Just thinking.”

“Hm. About what?”

“Just about…” he sighs. “Everything.”

“Sounds like a lot.”

“Yeah…”

An uncomfortable silence lays in the air. Instead of passing, it lingers until Sam sighs again.

He decides to ask the question that’s been on his mind for a few weeks now.

“Are you going to go back into the Unity?”

Are you going to leave me behind?

You don’t answer at first. Memories surface of all the other times you traveled through the Unity. And all the times you came out of the other side. Feeling empty.

Out of fear or nervousness, you may have brushed the question off any other time, but now you answer honestly. “I don’t know. A long time ago I thought it was my purpose. Finding artifacts, fighting the Hunter, passing through the Unity… but…”

Sam hesitates, waiting on the edge, he wants you to continue. But he’s afraid of your answer.

“This universe…it’s different than the others.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked this, but how many universes have you been to? How many years have you been doing this?”

You chuckle. It sounds pained. “Too many to count and too many for one lifetime.”

Sam tries to laugh, to alleviate the anxiety he feels bundled up in his chest. “You tellin’ me you’re older than I am?”

Groaning playfully, you nuzzle into his neck. Your smile against his skin makes his heavy heart a little lighter.

“Let’s not talk about that part.”

He pulls you closer. “Ok deal.”

The silence lingers again.

“Are you looking for an opinion?” he asks, his voice very quiet.

“From you? Always.”

“I think you should stay here. With us—with me. We could…” He clears his throat, swallowing the words his heart wanted him to say.

“We could what?”

After a few beats of his pounding heart, “It’s gonna sound sappy, but…we just keep going. Grow older together. Watch Cora grow up. Live out our golden years exploring the stars.”

“You really want that?”

“Hell yes I do.”

You fall silent. Sam stares into the dark. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into a deep abyss with no end. He wished you’d just spit it out, give him the bad news so he could start preparing himself to lose you—

“I can’t think of anything I’d want more.”

Sam’s whole body relaxes with a long-winded exhale. Had he been holding his breath?

“Did you think I was going to say no?”

“Honestly…I was kind of expecting you to. How could I compare to the life—or lifetimes—you’ve lived traveling to new universes? How could I compare to the power you gain every time you cross over?” He looks away, shrugging. “There’s an infinite number of me out there. You could do this again in the next universe.”

You pull back, propping yourself up to look at him in the dark. He can see the faint outline of your face. You’re frowning.

“There’s only one of you that’s like you. I have never met another that comes close.”

“You’re just trying to flatter me.”

You take his chin in your hand, forcing him to face you and preventing him from turning away. “Out of infinite universes, you’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”

“What about the one in your original universe?”

“If I loved him, I wouldn’t have left.”

“Huh…so that means…?”

“Yes.” He can see you smile. “I choose you. I’m staying.”

He laughs, pressing a light kiss to your lips. “Well, I guess first things first.”

You lean your forehead to his, he can hear the smile in your voice. “And what would that be?”

“I’m gonna marry you.”

#Sam Coe x reader #Sam Coe #Starfield #gn reader

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Season 2 Chapter 56 Translation [Lucien’s Part]-(1/2)

⚠️  SPOILER ALERT  ⚠️

This post contains a VERY HEAVY SPOILER for the chapter that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

I see your darkness, your failures, your confusion.

Just as I catch sight of the building, my body freezes involuntarily.

The place where the mentor-pupil mission has led us is none other than the former site of the Twin Leaves Orphanage in reality.

Translation under the cut!

[S2 Chapter 56 - Unsolvable Crux]

Some context about this chapter batch! Long story short, MC's Miracle Finder program which is more of a long and traditional TV show is struggling to compete with the popularity of online short videos (cough, funnily, it is almost like Lovepro's current situation in the otome market-), but she still has some time to find ways to make it more popular again before the next meeting with the investor (pretty similar to the start of the main story huh-)

At the same time, Odyssey, a hyper-realistic VR game is currently on hype right now, the game was developed by a company called Infinite, and it can be played with a device called Golden Apple (GA for short). This game lowkey feels like hidden ads for LaDs ngl

✂———————–

—[Chapter 56-8]—

I'm sitting at my desk, playing with the leaves of the green plant on the table, unable to help but sigh again

MC: I can't just chase after streaming platforms and make short videos for the rest of my life, can I.....

...This will only make my company lose its style and be homogenized into one of them.

At present, it seems like there's a new information technology emerging every minute. If we don't seize the opportunity, we'll only be left with the crumbs of others' success. It's just like…

Lucien: “Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do to keep in the same place.”

The familiar words echo in my ears, and I can't help but feel a bit dazed. Suddenly, a strange sense of familiarity wells up from within me.

This feeling, where I'm at a loss at the company's situation, seems to have happened in the distant past as well.

The calm, windless afternoon and those ink-like eyes come to mind.

When I was filming the final episode of "Finding Miracles" I was also grappling with decisions about the future, feeling anxious and lost.

At that time, Lucien became my program consultant, and the struggling program suddenly came to life starting from that episode.

I can't help but smile as I find my phone and send a message to Lucien.

MC: Is Consultant Lucien busy? I'm coming over to see you now~

The bright sunlight reflects off the entrance of the Ultima Bioscience Research Institute. As soon as I step out of the car, I see several visitors walking out of the building with gloomy expressions.

Visitor A: Is Professor Lucien such a high-and-mighty figure? Every time we come here, he's never around!

Visitor B: Maybe his research is going downhill at a critical moment? Even his assistant says they don't see him often.

Visitor A: Then he should come out, meet us, and discuss the results. Is it really good to shut himself away and do research like this?

MC: …?

Lucien not seeing visitors? I'm a bit puzzled.

A couple of days ago, when I met him in "Odyssey", he told me that the scanning function in "Odyssey" is very useful, as it helps him transfer data.

Could it be that he's doing closed-door research, so he's not seeing visitors?

I take out my phone in confusion and see that there's no reply to the message I sent him before leaving.

Pete: I'm really sorry, Professors. Next time, when you come again…

No one pays attention to Pete's voice. The visitors get straight into their cars and leave. He awkwardly scratches his head and walks away.

The situation in front of me deepens my confusion. I push open the door to the research room lightly.

MC: Lucien…?

There's no response inside. I stick my head in from behind the door, then pause for a moment in surprise.

I had thought I would see Professor Lucien asleep among the mountains of research reports and experimental data...

...But I didn't expect to see him actually sitting on the visitor's sofa, wearing the third-generation GA device.

At Lucien's feet are some hastily packed fast food wrappers, along with two unpackaged GA helmets.

He leans against the sofa, half of his face obscured by the helmet, devoid of any expression. Only his fingers, which resting on the side, twitch occasionally.

In an instant, I understood why Pete's expression was so complicated.

Who would have thought that Professor Lucien, while shutting himself off from visitors, would be sitting in the research lab playing "Odyssey" so openly!

If I don't go ask Lucien about the situation soon, I feel like I'll become even more worried and confused.

I take a deep breath, take a helmet out of the packaging, sit on the empty experimental bed next to him, and decisively put it on.

✂———————–

The brilliant sunlight warmly bathes a lush green field, and the moist air rushing towards me feels refreshing.

The grass beside me is nourished by the river, lush and abundant. With the river breeze rippling against both banks, the grass sways, gently tickling my calves.

This is Lucien's home in "Odyssey". When it's not busy, I often spend leisurely days here with him.

I look around and quickly spot Lucien sitting by the riverbank. I walk over to him joyfully.

MC: Lu-

Before I can even say his name, Lucien tilts his body slightly and gestures to me.

Lucien: Shh-

With one hand, he stops me from trying to pat him, and with the other, he lifts the fishing rod. As he moves, the water ripples gently.

"Splash!" A fish with golden patterns bursts out of the water, its tail swishing lively, causing water droplets to splash around.

The water droplets slide down his face like morning dew, tracing a meandering path on his handsome features.

Lucien blinks and then looks at me, his lips curling into a smile.

Lucien: [chuckles] Caught it.

—[Chapter 56-10]—

I come out from behind Lucien and poke the lively fish.

MC: What a plump and beautiful fish, I don't think I've ever seen one like this when I go fishing myself!

Lucien chuckles lightly as he unties the fishhook, then puts the fish back into the water, watching as its tail swishes and it swims away into the river.

A notification suddenly pops up.

——————Congratulations to the player [X] for completing the fishing achievement — [Encounter with Golden Marigold Fish].

Next to the achievement page, there's a line of small text that reads, "Congratulations, you are the first player globally to achieve this accomplishment."

MC: Wow, did I just witness the birth of a golden legend?

I gaze at this unheard-of achievement in astonishment, while Lucien maintains an unsurprised expression.

He smiles faintly, reaching out to wipe away a droplet of water that splashed onto my cheek just now.

Lucien: Shouldn't MC also be awarded an achievement — the first player globally to witness the birth of the Golden Marigold Fish achievement?

His banter makes me unable to help but smile. I glance around at the scenery, sighing as I look around.

MC: I never expected that the charm of "Odyssey" would be so great that even Professor Lucien has become an "Internet Addict."

I clear my throat and then nonchalantly add a "harmless" little question.

MC: Lately, it seems like I've been seeing you online often. Is the work at the Ultima Bioscience Research Institute relatively easy?

Upon hearing my little probing, Lucien smiles but doesn't rush to answer.

He stands up and tidies things up, gesturing for me to look towards a nearby location.

Lucien: [chuckles] Before answering that question, do you want to go check out the newly renovated home of an "Internet Addict" first?

MC: Um? Of course, that sounds great~

I never imagined that Lucien had actually expanded a laboratory within his home without me knowing.

The layout, facilities, interior decor, and even the functioning equipment replicated a professional laboratory down to the last detail.

Data and reports are neatly arranged, and as I measure the thickness of one stack of data with my palm, it exceeds the breadth of two hands.

Judging by the thickness of these materials, Lucien seems to have been conducting research in the "Odyssey" laboratory for quite a long time.

MC: While others come into the game to relax, Professor Lucien is actually working in the game. What an exceptional scientist...

Lucien smiles calmly and prepares a cup of hot tea for me.

Lucien: Try it. Does the taste and flavor differ from the real world?

I take the white tea and sip it lightly.

MC: [smiles softly] It seems there's hardly any difference, but I'm not really a tea connoisseur. I just drink it often because of you.

The tea leaves stretch in the boiling water, blurring our views of each other. I lean back on the comfortable sofa, seemingly understanding his implication.

MC: Professor Lucien, do you think since "Odyssey" is so similar to reality, why not explore an "experimental field" in the game too?

Lucien remains silent, seemingly acknowledging. He brews another cup of tea with the tea leaves and places it back in front of me.

Lucien: The laboratory here is quiet enough for me to focus more on my research.

He winks, his gaze gentle and focused, conveying a sense of reassurance to me.

Lucien: And as you've seen, in addition to research, I also casually complete game tasks.

In just a few sentences, Lucien perfectly answers all my questions.

I prop my head up a bit dazedly, pondering. If it's about finding peace and quiet, the Ultima Bioscience Research Center isn't usually noisy.

...Could it be because of those people?

MC: Is it because of the increase in visitors at the Ultima Bioscience Research Center recently? Is it affecting you?

Lucien nods in response to my gaze, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

Lucien: Recently, we've shifted the research focus to the deterioration disease. Some organizations are well-informed and have been eager to collaborate with me.

I nod in understanding.

In the realm of research, this isn't uncommon, but collaboration means sharing progress and results.

For Lucien, who prefers minimal interference in his research, this is indeed troublesome.

However, is the reason really that simple?

Lucien's demeanor and tone betray no hint of anything unusual, but I can't shake off a lingering sense of unease.

MC: By the way, Lucien.

I rise from the coffee table and move to sit beside him, one hand looping around his arm.

MC: Actually, I'm not at the company right now. I'm at the Ultima Bioscience Research Center, currently in your research lab.

Lucien: It seems that I'm not the only one bringing work into the game.

Facing Lucien's slightly teasing gaze, I bury my head in his chest, breathing in the scent of tea lingering on him.

MC: [in a coquettish manner] …I didn't expect Professor Lucien to still see through me.

Lucien's smile doesn't diminish as he gently strokes the top of my head with his hand.

Lucien: I think it's work time now. A girl who wants to fish wouldn't play "Odyssey" with me so conspicuously.

MC: I do have some problems that need Professor Lucien's advice and assistance.

I peek out from his embrace, tilting my head back to look at him.

MC: How about we talk as we walk? I also want to explore other areas of Professor Lucien's home and see if there are any new changes~

—[Chapter 56-11]—

Lucien pushes open the back door of the laboratory, revealing a glass corridor with a hollow top.

Sunlight filters through the glass, casting mottled light and shadow. His figure appears both real and illusory in the interplay of light and shadow.

I walk hand in hand with Lucien in the glass corridor, pouring out recent work matters in one breath.

MC: ...So, if we just chase after trends like other companies, we'll still end up being left behind in the industry.

MC: After all, I remember from a media class that "homogeneous works will ultimately be eliminated, and innovation is the key to industry development."

Lucien: Your judgment is correct.

Lucien blinks at me in affirmation and then poses a rather “insightful” question.

Lucien: So, what are the plans now?

I pause for a moment, somewhat unconfidently, and share with him several new program proposals that I have been contemplating.

MC: ...I've reviewed these proposals repeatedly. Although the content of the programs is quite interesting, I can't shake the feeling that it's still not enough.

MC: Maybe I should plan a program with more thrilling and exciting scenes…?

Lucien brushes off a leaf that had landed on my head at some point. I take the leaf, twirling it idly in my palm.

Lucien: Before the inception of "Odyssey," none of us imagined that we would be twirling this fallen leaf in a virtual world.

Lucien's calm and composed voice comes through as he touches the fallen leaf along with my hand.

Lucien: Fallen leaves, the air, and us walking…

Lucien: Without mentioning it, many people might forget that all of this is made up of data.

Lucien: The success of "Odyssey" doesn't rely on content but rather on the innovation of its presentation.

Lucien: If you were to just change the content, with your abilities, you'd surely create a buzz, but for discerning viewers…

He smiles slightly, his eyes looking at me with insight.

Lucien: The level of excitement in content has no threshold; as long as there's a lack of "technological" innovation, being replicated and surpassed is just a matter of time.

Lucien: On this point, Miss Producer, you understand it better than I do.

Lucien's words bring to light a thought that I've been vaguely aware of but haven't fully grasped. I blink, feeling a little enlightened.

MC: So, now, rather than pondering new programs, the new program medium is the more important thing?

The pressure before me seems to have cracked open a bit with Lucien's words, but I still find myself anxiously rubbing my hair.

Short videos, with their quick and concise nature, have almost taken over as the predominant form of media presentation in today's world.

MC: What else can be innovated? The "opportunity" won't just fall from the sky.

Our hands interlock as Lucien gently takes mine, and with a breeze, the leaf I had almost forgotten about is swept away, disappearing from sight.

Lucien: Personally, I feel that perhaps we can try to find a blue ocean.*

MC: Blue ocean?

[Trivia: Blue Ocean strategy is a business strategy that involves creating new market spaces and making the competition irrelevant. A current relevant example is Papergames creating Love and Deepspace 😂]

Lucien looks at me with a thoughtful expression, his lips curling into a smile. With his slender fingertips, he smooths out the hair that I had ruffled.

Lucien: For example, in fields like holographic technology and artificial intelligence.

My heart skips a beat.

Indeed, while there have been numerous developments in related fields before, it wasn't until the explosion of "Odyssey" that these two concepts suddenly experienced explosive growth.

From the perspective of a film and television company, this is simply the perfect combination of new technological power and emerging phenomena.

The wind picks up, causing the leaves of the trees to rustle against each other, gracefully taking flight as if nature sings its gentle song.

As I behold the incredibly lifelike natural scene before me, it feels as though a long-standing boulder in my mind is finally starting to shift.

MC: Are you referring to "Odyssey" itself?!

Lucien: It's just one possible direction. "Odyssey" is the firstborn of this blue ocean, overturning and rebuilding many people's preconceptions.

The sunlight filters through the trees, casting scattered patches of light onto the path we're walking on. The slanting rays create specks of orange hues, gently enveloping us like orange veils.

Lucien: Now that we're in the midst of it, it's the best proof of all possibilities.

MC: Combining media with "Odyssey"...

I pause in my tracks, lost in thought. Lucien doesn't interrupt me, waiting quietly by my side.

I raise my head, looking at the sky in "Odyssey," which is indistinguishable from reality. In my mind, several new ideas start to take shape.

Unable to contain my enthusiasm, I leap up and hug him excitedly.

MC: Thank you, Professor Lucien, for answering my questions and clearing up my confusion!

Lucien: Just bringing a bit of research mindset into the discussion. I'd be honored if it was helpful to you.

Lucien lets me hold him and pats my back, his smile deepening.

Lucien: However, we haven't formally confirmed our teacher-student relationship yet, so you can't just casually call me "teacher".

Before I could react, an interface to formalize our mentor-pupil relationship suddenly appeared.

I blush slightly and without hesitation, press the "confirm" button.

At the same time as the system message "You have become a pupil of X" pops up, a mentor-pupil mission suddenly appears in my taskbar.

MC: Huh?

[Lucien and MC get transported]

Xiao Shuai: My friend is the best Xiao Mei in the world. We are happy when we're playing outside, but she's not happy once she gets home.

Xiao Shuai: Can Gege (older brother) and Jiejie (older sister) make Xiao Mei happy?

MC: I thought the mentor-pupil mission would be about technical teaching, but I didn't expect it to be helping children…

Lucien: Does MC prefer to learn technical skills?

MC: No, no, that's too tiring. Let's just help the kids together!

I smile and rub Xiao Shuai's chubby cheeks.

MC: Okay, let's leave it to Gege and Jiejie!

A prominent guiding route on the ground emits a white light. We follow the route and soon reach the end of the road.

Alongside the old gate, the fence entwined with vines is covered with lush green leaves, occasionally dotted with a few wildflowers, giving it a lively appearance.

Several two-story buildings in the courtyard are arranged in picturesque disorder. Although the paint on the walls has faded, it still exudes a sense of warmth and tranquility.

Just as I catch sight of the building, my body freezes involuntarily.

The place where the mentor-pupil mission has led us is none other than the former site of the Twin Leaves Orphanage in reality.

[Trivia: Twin Leaves Orphanage is where MC, Lucien, Kiro, and other kids got experimented as a child]

—[Chapter 56-12]—

As I gaze upon the orphanage in "Odyssey," a chill runs down my spine, and I can't help but tighten the scarf around my neck.

However, unlike the desolate old site in my memory, the NPC children are now playing and frolicking in the courtyard, bathed in warm sunlight.

I tell myself not to overthink it and quickly find several children playing in the corridor to ask about Xiao Mei with Lucien.

Child A: Xiao Mei? I don't know her.

Child B: There doesn't seem to be anyone by that name in our orphanage.

We ask many children, but surprisingly, not a single one knows Xiao Mei. I scratch my head in puzzlement.

MC: Could it be that Xiao Shuai's mission information was incorrect?

Lucien ponders for a moment, then looks towards the teacher who is answering questions for the children at the classroom door not far away.

Lucien: Let's go ask the teacher.

After the children leave, I approach the teacher politely and cautiously start the conversation.

MC: Hello, do you happen to know a student named Xiao Mei? I seem to have found something belonging to her.

Teacher: We don't have a student by that name here. You might have the wrong place.

I stand there puzzled, about to ask for Lucien's opinion, when I turn around and realize Lucien is nowhere to be found.

Before I can even speak to search for him, the door of the adjacent office opens, and Lucien steps out, holding a piece of paper in his hand.

Lucien: I found the student roster from this office.

MC: Pfft…! So Professor Lucien already guessed that the teacher wouldn't be able to provide any useful information, so he pulled a "diversionary tactic*"?

[T/N: "声东击西" is a Chinese idiom that literally translates to "sound from the east, strike from the west." It refers to a strategy where one creates a diversion or distraction to mislead the opponent while executing a different action elsewhere :> ]

Lucien winks at me.

Lucien: Just a small tactic, hopefully it pays off.

As we scan through the long list for a while, we still haven't found Xiao Mei's name. Just as I'm about to give up and look for a guide, Lucien suddenly raises an eyebrow.

Lucien: There seems to be an issue with this list.

MC: What do you mean?

Lucien doesn't reply, but instead, he folds up the list and leads me towards the storage room at the end of the corridor.

After opening the door, a stale smell fills the air in the storeroom, and tiny specks of dust float in the dim light.

Lucien closes the door behind me, and for a moment, the entire room seems to be engulfed in a heavy darkness.

Yet, in the pitch-black, a faint green glow suddenly appears before my eyes.

MC: …This list glows!!

The original text on the list is obscured by the heavy darkness, but the text printed with luminescent material is clearly visible.

MC: "Night Division Roster", Xiao Gu, Mai Mai, Xiao Mei... Found her!

Lucien: It seems my guess was correct.

Lucien: Earlier, I noticed the words "Day Division" on the list under natural light, so I speculated that there might also be a "Night Division" present.

MC: So Xiao Mei appears in the park every evening before dusk and leaves after sunset, not to "go home," but to attend classes in the Night Division?

Lucien: Smart. This should be the reason why no one knew Xiao Mei when we came during the day.

MC: How strange... Why are the children mysteriously divided into day and night divisions?

Lucien walks slowly beside me, seemingly not intending to take further action.

Lucien: Perhaps we'll have answers when night falls.

A slightly cunning smile curves on Lucien's lips, and I instantly understand his intention.

MC: Right, if we wait until it's late and quiet, the children from the Night Division will naturally come for their classes!

The only task now is to wait, Lucien and I hang around, watching as the sunlight gradually shifts towards the west.

MC: I can't shake the feeling that this orphanage mission seems to have some sort of prototype reference... like the mirrored building* we encountered before.

[T/N: MC talks about S2 ch 33]

MC: There's a kind of... indescribable familiarity in my heart.

Lucien: Don't worry, this sense of familiarity might just help us complete the mission.

Lucien gently ruffles my hair and gazes towards the direction of the orphanage, deep in thought.

As night falls and moonlight shines upon the orphanage, Lucien and I hear footsteps echoing in the corridor.

A group of children silently make their way through the long corridor toward the direction of the classroom.

Their shadows elongate in the dim light, devoid of daytime liveliness, only the faint moonlight reflecting their youthful yet serious faces.

As if influenced by this atmosphere, I also lower my voice and whisper softly into Lucien's ear.

MC: Shall we go now?

Just as Lucien and I start heading towards the classrooms, we're suddenly stopped by a security guard.

Security Guard: Sorry, the orphanage is not open to the public right now. Please leave.

MC: We're just…

Before I can finish my sentence, a "Mission Failed" screen suddenly pops up, and Lucien and I are immediately teleported outside the orphanage.

MC: ….??

MC: How did the mission fail already? We haven't even done anything yet!

Lucien: I'm thinking that perhaps there are some "invisible rules" in place at this orphanage at night that we're not supposed to break. Once violated, the mission fails immediately.

Lucien: "Not getting caught by security" must be one of them.

MC: Isn't this too troublesome?

Lucien: With me around, do you still find it troublesome?

MC: Pfft, of course not.

I take Lucien's hand and wink at him.

MC: Then let's solve this small trouble together~

✂———————–

One minute later, Lucien and I find ourselves back in front of the orphanage.

MC: Uh, sorry... I saw a mirror and instinctively looked into it. I didn't realize it would also count as breaking the rules.

Lucien: It's okay. Every failure is an exploration step toward success.

✂———————–

Lucien: I thought solving the puzzle on the blackboard would open a secret door or something like that, but it just attracted the attention of the teacher.

MC: At least the orphanage teacher acknowledged Professor Lucien's math skills…!

After seven or eight attempts at exploration, we finally lurk near the classroom. I open the window and quietly peek inside.

In the dim light, the children sit by the worn-out desks and chairs, attentively listening to the teacher's explanation. There's an eerie and quiet atmosphere in the air.

A sudden horror and chilling feeling rushes through my heart, and I instinctively look towards Lucien, who is holding my hand.

But when I turn around, the first thing I see is not Lucien, but a slightly pale-faced little girl.

She has appeared behind us, seemingly out of nowhere, and is looking up at us curiously.

—[Chapter 56-14]—

MC: Are you X-Xiao Mei...?!

I feel goosebumps all over my body, and my voice trembles as I speak. The little girl nods, and I exchange a glance with Lucien.

We take Xiao Mei out of the teaching building and arrive at the tree next to the garden.

Here, I finally breathe a sigh of relief, looking at the girl in front of me with braided pigtails.

MC: Xiao Mei, your friend Xiao Shuai is very worried about you, so he asked Gege and Jiejie to come and check on you.

I try to talk to Xiao Mei, but she keeps her lips tightly pressed together and glances at me before curling up into a ball, not moving at all.

No matter how I try to talk to her afterward, she ignores me.

Xiao Mei looks much thinner and weaker than children her age. Unlike the lively and noisy children during the day, she appears to be particularly quiet.

Just as I am feeling troubled, Lucien gently calls my name and takes my hand, leading me aside.

MC: What should I do, Lucien? She seems particularly resistant to communicating with me…

Lucien: [gently] I think maybe it's not resistance, but rather she also needs an opportunity to connect with you.

Lucien: When you talk to her, although her reactions are a bit cold, her body always unconsciously moves closer toward you.

Lucien: Rather than resistance, it might be more like "not good at" or "not daring" to communicate with you.

My heart tightens. Could it be that the reason why these children from the Night Division are so quiet... is because of similar reasons?

Children in orphanages are already more prone to feeling lonely than others. A girl who struggles to communicate is even more susceptible to being ignored to some extent.

I should use a more friendly approach and gradually make her feel understood.

Thinking this, I look more carefully at Xiao Mei, trying to find some breakthrough to make her relax

Xiao Mei has her eyes closed slightly, gently burying her head in the slightly worn scarf around her.

MC: Lucien, look at that scarf…?

Lucien also looks over and after a while, he speaks softly.

Lucien: Some children develop a dependency on specific plush items during their growth process, finding a sense of security in them.

Lucien: I think, this scarf might be just that special existence for her.

I look at the curled-up Xiao Mei, feeling a mix of sadness and tenderness. Despite the scarf in her arms being very worn, she still holds onto it dearly, unwilling to let go.

Lucien notices my emotions and tightens his hold on my hands.

I give his hand a firm squeeze back, smile at him, then return to Xiao Mei's side and crouch down again.

MC: Xiao Mei, let me tell you a secret. When I was little, I also received a scarf from someone very important to me.

Xiao Mei doesn't say anything, but she turns her head slightly to look at me. I continue to speak, smiling as I recount distant memories in a soft voice.

MC: I really, really liked that scarf because every time I saw it, it made me feel like that person was still with me.

MC: When I felt lonely or scared, I would hold onto it, and those feelings would slowly disappear, just like magic.

MC: Later on, I would often chat with the magic scarf, and it became my best friend whom I could talk to about anything…

I made up a fairy tale about me and the magic scarf, and Xiao Mei listened attentively, starting to sit up slowly.

When the fairy tale was over, Xiao Mei blinked her eyes and smiled at me for the first me.

I suddenly think of something and take off my scarf, wrapping it around Xiao Mei's neck.

MC: Your scarf must have a lot of power. Now, Jiejie is giving you her scarf too.

I boop Xiao Mei's nose, and she no longer resists my approach.

MC: From now on, Xiao Mei has two powers to protect her. So she doesn’t need to be afraid of anything.

Xiao Mei looks at me, blinks her eyes, and the next moment, she starts sobbing softly, as if she had been suppressing it for a long time. She doesn't cry loudly, just hugs me tightly.

Lucien bends down a bit and gently strokes Xiao Mei's head.

Not long after, Xiao Mei takes out a sketchbook. As she writes and draws, she tells her story bit by bit. Finally, we can piece together the truth.

It seems that from a long time ago, the children in the orphanage have been divided into a day division and a night division based on their physical condition and performance in the orphanage.

From the beginning, the two divisions just have different schedules, but gradually it evolves into differences in meals, dormitories, and the attention they receive.

Nowadays, the children in the night division seem to have become an "invisible" group in this orphanage, as no one ever casts a glance their way anymore.

Although Xiao Mei doesn't understand the reason, she knows that she and her friends in the night division all dislike this kind of life.

She wants to escape, to be under the sunlight with the other children, but she's powerless to do so alone.

After settling Xiao Mei with Lucien, I stomp my foot indignantly.

MC: They're all children, why do these people treat them differently?!

Lucien takes the drawing Xiao Mei handed to us and ponders for a moment before speaking lightly.

Lucien: I'm afraid it's not just emotional discrimination that's at play here.

Lucien: Emotional neglect alone wouldn't warrant them going to such lengths to establish this system, so I suspect there may be deeper interests at play.

MC: Are you suggesting that the children in the night division might be exploited by the orphanage?

Lucien nods, gently taking my slightly cold hand and rubbing it, a gentle yet firm smile on his lips.

Lucien: [smiles gently] Whatever it is, it will be resolved tonight.

[Next Part-> Click Here]

#the game is sus as fuck #it still has many cute scenes but- #this chapter is littered with sooo many hidden KNIVES #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc #mlqc translation #mr. love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mlqc xu mo #mlqc spoilers