#this has been sat in my likes for aeons

[melonn-soda]

❝GIDDY UP & GO!!... ❞

word count: 3.3k

warnings: subbot! male reader, domtop! boothill, genitals are not explicitly mentioned, grinding, no actual penetration, unnecessary descriptions how much there is of spit (sorry if ur not into that), predator/prey if u squint, nd gunplay if u squint really really hard (is implied), lots of pentnames, praise, save a horse ride a cowboy but I change a factor, cowboy hat rule because RRGHGHGRHRGHHGHGHG

prompt: boothill has made it his life mission to cash in the money he gets when he lands you behind bars. however, when it becomes apparent as to why you let him pursue you, he begins to chase you for an entirely different reason

notes: lost 50/50 to yanqing (he's still my kid nd I love him regardless YANQING HATERS LEAVE!!!!) when wishing for aventurine. now I'm pulling for boothill if I don't get my little gambler (if Sunday is playable and better than boothill then im sorry to my fav cowboy yeehaw) not beta read

fem aligned dni

“Oh, my.”

Boothill hates your guts. That’s a given.

He hates the way you carry yourself, the sly remarks you’ll make if you spot even one hint of insecurity, the slight draw on certain syllables to give a mocking tone- you, in general. Although he’s more on the bothering side than the bothered, you’re just so much more annoying than he thought even possible. Guess that’s why you’re known as a high-end bandit.

He’s been on your tail for weeks, chasing any leads (a lot of them, like you wanted the chase) he could get his hands on. He’s even seen you slinking around taverns, poker tables, run-down hotels- for fucks’ sake, even on horseback racing down a dirt path while attempting to rob a moving train. To feel the satisfaction of seeing the credits Boothill would obtain after putting you behind bars is all he wants to experience because this is just getting ridiculous.

So, why the hell now, is he bound up to the ceiling with chains thicker than his own ankle after finding your base?

The amused smile finds its way upon your lips and Boothill wants to do nothing more than to kick it right off. You were in a vulnerable position before he decided to sneak in, with your chair tipped as your feet were kicked up on a busted wooden table, a bandana resting over your eyes to block out the sunlight that dared to drift into the room. Boothill made the dumbest mistake by alerting you of his presence through triggering a well hidden trip-wire. Perking you up, you began to rise from your seat, swiftly removing the bandana from your eyes and fingers instinctively on the handle of your revolver that sat on the gun holster strapped to your thigh. The trap triggered so fast, Boothill’s sensors barely had time to react to it before the ‘snap!’s and ‘crack!’s echoed throughout the room and he was pressed against the ceiling within seconds.

Sharp glares were stabbing through your form as your hand rested on your hip as you whistled, looking up at the ranger in slight surprise and smugness. Aeons, he hated you.

“Wow, such a reckless move to jus’ prance yer way in here, no? Hey, aren't cha a Galaxy Ranger or somethin’?” You tease, swiveling your chair so that you could sit backwards on it, crossing your arms atop of the back rest so you could rest your chin on your forearms, “Surely, ya coulda suspected that I woulda set up a trap. But why waste all yer precious time on someone as measly as me? I ain’t nothin’ but a lil’ ol’ bandit.”

“You better seal yer pretty lil’ lips, doll.” Boothill hisses at you, his voicebank glitching to censor the words he so desperately wanted to say, “My bullets don’t take too kindly to sweet talkers n’ foxes.”

A laugh echoes throughout the falling apart structure then settles into a hum as you stand up and kick the chair against the wall, “Ya sure like to talk big. Kinda fits ya, though.” The chair slams right under Boothill and you slowly make your way towards it, the clinking of spurs on your boots highlighting every step you take.

Looking up at the suspended robot, your left foot raises and rests on the seat, leaning in to provoke the cyborg even further, “It’s kinda cute how ya keep pursuin’ me despite all these failed attempts. How ‘bout I give ya more of a reason to keep chasin’ me than only doin’ it for jus’ the credits?”

Boothill’s eyebrows creased in suspicion as your hand raises up to his face, contemplating just biting your fingers straight off until he hears the click of the safety and a metal barrel against the human skin of his jaw. His teeth clench in anger as you nearly laugh at his compliance, reaching above his head and snatching his hat right off.

Oh, he was going to kill you for sure-

The hat plops onto your head and you wink at him while sticking your tongue out.

What.

There wasn’t-

There was no way.

“Catch me if ya can, cowboy.” You say dismissively, briskly turning around and walking out of the rundown hideout. However, before you could get out of his line of sight, your head turned to face him and you said, “I’ll be waitin’. As always.”

Dumbfounded and a half an hour later collapsed on the floor from the wooden boards snapping- which loosened the chains, he replays that minute over and over again. He didn’t want to believe that had actually happened but his memory told him otherwise.

There was no way that you...

Whatever. He’ll think about it later. He needs to get his damn hat back.

The first time Boothill finds you, it’s in a more forest-y area. You’re on your trusty steed, talking to some other criminals with little interest. The cowboy watches the interaction, paying special attention to your reactions to see if you’ve noticed his presence. From what he could tell, you didn’t seem to see that he was watching while using the shrubbery to cover him and the horse he was on. The people you were talking to he recognized from some wanted posters, only worth some credits. Not as much as your bounty, though.

...

...You’re still wearing his hat.

“Look, partner,” Your voice dips into an exhausted, low, sigh, “I need that shipment as soon as possible, ya hear? I ain’t got too much time left before she’s reached her time. Ion care how ya get it, I need it in at least a week! Otherwise she’ll get real snappy and I’m gonna hafta put some lead in some poor person's head.”

One of the bandits flashes a worried look to another, “Boss, ya don’t understand! The Xianshou Luofu’s been havin’ sum sorta delay! We ain’t gonna get those packages ‘til some long period of time!”

Boothill’s interest peaks as you begin to snap, “Did ya not hear me? I said, ‘Ion care how ya get them!’ Find a way! Talk to that Trailblazer everyone’s been praisin’ about or somethin’! Jus’ get me my stuff before ‘m gonna start blowin’ some brains out-”

A rustle causes you to pause your sentence as you draw your weapon immediately, the barrel facing his direction and bullets fly. Boothill’s horse had begun to munch on the bush, which gave away his position, but thankfully he moved quick enough to get out of the way.

You decided to book it when you caught sight of the familiar white and black hair, spurs hitting the sides of your horse as you begin to get out of the area to leave nothing but a trail of dust. Boothill doesn’t hesitate to race after you, whipping the reins of his horse to get her going.

Branches and twigs tug at Boothill’s hair as he chases you through the forest, lowering his torso so that he could lessen the wind resistance as his horse’s hooves slam against the ground. You’re quite the distance away, mostly because your horse is pretty speedy. It’s how you get away from crime scenes so fast. However, Nellie, the horse Boothill is riding currently, is also quite fast.

Although, not fast enough because in the end, he still loses you.

The curses he spits all get censored immediately as he slows into a stop, head turning in every direction to see if you left any trail behind. Only to see none. Didn’t expect as much from a skilled criminal.

The second time he spots you is in the tavern, playing a game of poker with people that had their pockets stuffed full of cash. ‘Rich folk,’ Boothill grimaces as he could see them tilt their chin up like the world owes them something. If you rob them, he won’t feel even a sliver of remorse.

He knows that you can see him as he leans against the wall to watch the match, some of the rich getting intensively frustrated as they begin to fold after betting so high. Judging by the scheming smile on your face, he could tell you have a winning hand. Then again, when are you never smiling like you have something up your sleeve?

Finally, in the showdown, you and the person you’re going up against reveal your cards and you win with a four of a kind. Lucky.

The people at the table groan and push their chips in your direction, getting up to leave as their attitudes have just been soured over that singular match. Boothill takes the opportunity to walk over to you and remove the gun from his holster and press it right up against your lower back, hand coming up to snatch his hat that rests atop your head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

A window shatters behind him and he could hear flames begin to roar but he doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from you. Only when he feels cold metal press against the nape of his neck does his actions falter and his eyes turn to face whoever decided to draw their weapon.

He blinks in shock to see a figure completely made of water, his gaze returning to you and seeing you sitting on the edge of the table with your gun pressed against his forehead. Shit. He’s lost again.

The tavern completely surrenders to the flames as people scream at the sight of fire, swallowing up the alcohol and wood. Boothill can hear his fans whirring to prevent himself from overheating but the attempt is futile as the room begins to get unbearably hot. He’s not sure if it’s just the fire that’s causing him to overheat or it’s because you look insanely good with all this red and orange light.

...

What is he even thinking right now?

“Y’know, it’s gettin’ real fun toyin’ with ya, cowboy.” You speak, completely unbothered by all the heat in the building. He can’t even see a single drop of sweat on your face. Even so, you continue, “But I think ya can do a little better than this.”

The ranger’s lips purse in offense, glaring at you as best as he could. The gun you had pointed lazily at his forehead falls to the floor and Boothill isn’t sure how long he can last in this heat. Before his system could finally shut down because of overheating, he could feel your lips press against the area where your gun was pressed up against. Then, he falls over as his system forcibly turns him off.

The third time Boothill sees you, he’s lying on a metal workbench with cold water floating above him and fans blowing in his direction. He’s confused, obviously, and on his toes as he realizes he’s not in an area he’s not familiar with. He attempts to sit up to find a way to escape only to realize that he can’t move his arm. Now, he’s terrified.

“Relax, cowboy.” Your voice coos from behind a computer, typing away at something as you're taking a tip from a glass. Presumably water. “I’m cooling ya off. You’re welcome... You should be able to move now.”

Boothill shoots up from his spot and rips off the cables that are attached to his left arm, head darting around to look for his gun. He hears a click and once again finds himself with a gun pressed up against his jaw.

“Lookin’ for this?”

The crosshair that replaces his once human pupils flit over to your direction, noticing that you were holding his revolver in your dominant hand. Boothill swears that you must like pointing a barrel in his direction for how many times this has been done. He also sees that you’re wearing his very cropped jacket over your usual attire. ... And you’re still wearing his hat.

“That’s mine, pretty boy.” The ranger gives you a half-assed growl as his censor kicks in once more, already getting annoyed at your sly behaviour, “Ya really got a knack for takin’ stuff that’s not yours, huh? No wonder yer a criminal.”

You giggle at his words, tossing his gun on the metal workbench, “It’s not loaded, neither is your little gun hand.” You tell him, like he was going to start unloading mags into your skin. Turning around, you walk back to your computer and open up a drawer on the desk it sits on, “Well?” You ask after a momentary silence, leaning on one of your legs as you crack open a bottle of whiskey and begin to pour it into your empty glass.

“‘Well’, what?” Boothill narrows his eyes at you, picking up his revolver and shoving it back into his thigh holster. He’ll just have to go to the nearest mechant and buy more bullets.

“Ain’t ya gonna, I don’t know, take yer hat back?” You ask him, taking a sip of the alcohol that gives a slight burn down your throat, “We’re in an enclosed space, barely any room t’move around, exit’s right behind ya ‘n all. Perfect chance t’arrest me, if I dare so say m’self.”

He blinks. There’s got to be some sort of trap if the setup is this perfect. He’s not going to make the same mistake he did before, not again. So, his sensors scan the room quickly, which leaves you unamused, and he sees that there are in fact no traps in this room. Boothill almost doesn’t want to believe it.

“Are ya playin’ some sort of game with me?” Boothill’s eyes begin to squint in suspicion, carefully trying to think of a situation you might pull that puts him on the losing end of the stick, “Yer jus’ gonna let yourself get arrested? Jus’ like that?”

“What? Ya don’t wanna do it? Too scared?” You taunt him again, causing the cowboy’s circuits to boil in animosity.

“Ya know what?” Boothill smiles a tense one, taking long, menacing steps in your direction, “I’ve ‘bout had it with your attitude, pretty boy. Seems like ya didn’t have anybody ta teach ya proper manners.” All of a sudden, you felt yourself being slammed up against the wall behind you with a grunt, Boothill’s right hand keeping your wrists together and his left hand tilting your chin up to look at him, his eyes glowing a dangerous red, “I mean, after that stunt ya pulled in yer lil’ base, it seems like ya wanna be caught by me.”

“Hah.. guilty as charged.” You laugh, attempting to keep your smooth facade up, only for it to crack once you could feel his metal knee nudge between your thighs. A whine rips through your throat as he keeps his knee still, not bothering to give you the pleasure you oh so wanted from the day you saw him.

“How ‘bout it, doll?” Boothill sneers at your pathetic expression, lips getting dangerously close to yours, “I can give ya a better punishment than jail could.”

One thing’s for sure: Boothill’s mechanical body does not have any built in... pleasure devices, he’s nearly as smooth as a doll. However, there is a slightly large bump on his pelvis in the shape of an oval that if you were to grind just right up against, you’ll-

“O-oh!”

Boothill’s lips curve up into a smirk as he sees you push down hard against his metallic form, trying to settle your trembles by wrapping your arms tightly around his neck to stabilize yourself. It’s cute, he thinks, seeing you all desperate for sexual relief. The way you hopelessly cling to him like he’s the last thing keeping you alive. He can’t believe he actually thought about putting you behind bars if getting you wrapped around his finger was this satisfying. 

“How’s it feel, pretty boy?” Boothill whispers in your ear, causing a shiver to rack your spine as his grip adjusts to settle on your lower waist, pushing you even further against him, “Feel like yer gonna explode yet?”

Whimpering in response, your shaky fingertips grip onto his shoulders as your forehead now presses against his. Soft pants fill the room and Boothill can practically see the hearts in your eyes as your hips continue to move against his. You both still have your clothes on but this all still feels so intimate, probably better than actual penetration.

The ranger’s hand reaches up to tug his hat that still rests on your head, fixing it back from its tilted state, “Ya look like ya wanna kiss, doll.” He teases, bringing your chin closer to the point where your noses brushed up against one another.

“Pl-please..” You say breathily, gently tugging at his hair.

“Attaboy.” Boothill snickers in response, “Looks like yer finally learning.” His freakishly long tongue slithers past his lips as soon as they press against yours, slipping into your mouth as saliva begins to spill down your chin. Aeons, you’re just so cute.

Soft moans are swallowed up by Boothill’s greedy mouth, his thumb coming up to pull against your bottom lip before he pulls away and the only thing that connects your mouths is the thin trail of spit. His robotic thumb pushes into your mouth, pressing against your tongue as drool continues to spill down your pretty lips. He could get used to this.

He notices how much faster your hips move, calculating that you were close as whines and whimpers flood the room. The smile on Boothill’s face only widens even further, bumping his hips up to catch you off guard. He knows he succeeds when he hears a shaky squeak come from your mouth.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy? Ya gonna bust?” The ranger sneers, the thumb in your mouth shifting so he widens your lips by pushing at the sides, “Y’know, I could easily deny ya of that relief. Ya kinda deserve it for teasin’ me this whole time.”

You shake your head violently, already too close to be pulled away now. Boothill snickers in response, “No? What makes ya think you can tell me what to do?” A pleading look flashes across your features and Boothill has half the decency to make you beg for release. He decides to have mercy on you, though, “Mmmn, I mean, I guess ya have been pretty obedient. Go on and blow yer load f’me, pretty.”

With a shudder and a slight bite on Boothill’s metal thumb, your pants get soaked in your fluids, staining the fabric. Your hips jerk a couple of times to ride out your orgasm then you started slumping onto his chest in exhaustion. Boothill’s other hand rubs at your hip to soothe you, letting you rest in place to calm the trembles that still cause your body to twitch in overstimulation.

“Good boy.” He says softly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth, watching as it dripped since it was slick with your spit. Letting you catch your breath for a moment, he waits before he decides to ask, “So, what package were ya waitin’ for?”

“Baby stuff.” You sigh, face burying into Boothill’s neck, “My sister’s expecting ‘nd her wife’s been tellin’ me to get that stuff as soon as possible. The Luofu has been delaying their packages for a bit, somethin’ about shippin’ difficulties. Can’t believe ya’d remember something like that, though.”

The cowboy huffs in response, “Bein’ a cyborg’s got some perks. The only bad part is that ion got a dick to fuck ya with. Woulda been nice to see ya unable to walk for a few days.”

You sit up and give him a weird look, hands resting on his shoulders, “Ya do know strap-ons exist, right?” The way you said that made him feel much stupider, like you were pointing out the obvious to him.

“...Oh.” Boothill’s face flushes embarrassingly hot as his fans kick in once more.

Aeons, he hated you.

#x male reader #male reader #x bottom male reader #bottom male reader #hsr x male reader #hsr x reader #hsr boothill #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill x male reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader

[sleepybbie]

Hi! Your Blade thirst Drabble was so hot 🥵 could I request a thirst Drabble for IL! Dan Heng x reader please? Thanks!

𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 | dan heng • imbibitor lunae drabble

a/n: my inbox has been filled with dan heng il/dan feng lately what has hoyoverse been feeding to that man to make everyone so down bad for him? T^T

dan heng il x fem!reader

warning: smutty drabble below!

no matter how many times he tells you, you just seem to can’t take your hands off his horns.

you couldn't help it! they were so fascinating to look at. touch even—there's just something so intriguing about them. vidyadhara such as him are indeed enchanting species from the xianzhou. however, it's not because of his bashfulness of why DAN HENG won't allow you to touch his horns; there's another reason behind his refusal to let anyone lay a finger on his horns at all.

it's simply because dan heng's horns are sensitive. and also it secretly...makes him easily aroused.

he's not sure why it has come to that of a certain conclusion, yet that was just him expressing the matter of the fact. everyone had taken note not prod on them for the sake of his space, but here you are...

rubbing on his horns while he whimpers beneath you as you sat on his lap.

his face was so flushed, panting heavily while he roughly holds on your waist to keep you still, the same movement you did while you rub on his horns. this felt odd...and he was also feeling hard at the same time. oh aeons, this isn't good...

"a-ah...y/n hold on...please, don't tug on them..they're..." he pleads with a hush voice, trying to keep his tone down as the two of you were just in his room. you were too captivated by the horns, e/c eyes cluelessly getting used to the feeling while dan heng was almost dying underneath you. he couldn't take it...you were such a tease.

in each subtle touch you delivered onto his horns, you can feel a twitch from his length, all underneath his gorgeous attire. oh so he wasn’t lying when he said his horns were sensitive…

“so you really aren’t lying about these horns…”

“why would i even lie about something like that?? gah..ah…please that’s eno—

you gently tugged on them, and he gasps. oh shit, that was hot. his grip on your waist became tighter, and his rock-hard cock must’ve been hurting badly; not to mention you were sitting down on his lap while groping his delicate horns. his eyes were shut, panting badly while all you could do was stare at his beautiful flustered face.

he can’t take it anymore. you were the one that started this

with a thrust of his waist, he forces his fabric-covered length to hit right at your folds, biting his lips when in the meantime you continued to fondle his horns. fuck, fuck, fuck…he needed you…the more faster you touch his horns the more stimulated he got. how captivated were you? didn’t you feel how hard he is?

“f-forgive me for what i’m about to do, y/n..i just…i need this, please..it hurts..” he murmurs, before dan heng slowly begins to move your hips, back and forth on the tent in his attire. finally, he got your attention. the sudden spark you felt down on your cunt as he rides you down his hardness made you look down. who knew you were able to place the reincarnation of the former high elder of the vidyadhara under your thumb?

“d-dan heng..?”

“i-i’m sorry, ah..please just let me…”

the fabric of his pants were getting wet, his head pushed down on the pillows while he repeatedly moves your hips down on him. you slowly start to mewl, hands finally down from his horns as you hold tight over his shoulders.

“ah…d-dan heng wait..”

“i-i can’t…forgive me, just…”

his fingers were so slender on your waist, tips as soft as cotton while he moves your body down on his hard length. how pathetic he looked, he’s a mess; and all because you touched his horns. you gently pushed his hands off of your waist, it took some time considering how hard his grip was, yet before he could complain, he watches you with wide eyes as you took your pushed your panties aside and pushed his pants down.

he panics a little. “w-wait, y/n are you sure about this? we can just slow—

his sentence was cut short when his aching dick sprang to life, and steadily did you place your now-wet folds on top, refusing to let it inside of you (just to tease him a bit more). dan heng’s carnal grip on your hips returned, and now with a fast pace did he grinds you down. the both of you were a whining mess.

your eyes darted down of how small bits of pre-cum started to shoot out from his rod while prodding yourself on him, leaving a stain on his outfit. biting your bottom lip, you thought of an idea..

maybe…

“y-y/n wait, no hold on don’t..!”

your hands went back on his sensitive horns, having a tight grip on them, increasing the pace as you teased your clit down on his angry red tip, slowly sliding it down back. he moans, quite loudly, he had to bring a hand over his mouth.

it was nasty, the way his fluids were shooting out one by one in each thrust your folds gave, you finally gave one harsh tug on his horns and finally.

“oh fuck..!”

he came down on his high, spouting his seed on his clothes, some came over his face. you followed soon after, your cum staining on the skin of his cock as you both whimpered in unison. you feel his chest heave heavily, e/c eyes dusted with lust while you look at him.

after what seemed to be minutes of panting, dan heng gentle smacks your head, his breath still uneven.

“d-don’t you dare ever do that again..”

but he knows you still will.

#dan heng x reader #dan heng il x reader #imbibitor lunae x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr smut

[frogchiro]

As mentioned before, my brain has been consumed by Welt ever since I started playing and now please have this little fluffy thirst with him ;;

fem!reader, nsfw but it's really mild, like nothing explicit happens, nipple play and breast sucking >< very fluffy and sweet, possibly ooc Welt, age difference (reader is in her early 20's), reader has a past

!also possible spoilers on the prologue of the game!

OKAY SO, I imagine this taking place right after departing from Herta's Space Station with the Astral Express. After the disaster at the station you, Himeko, Welt, Dan Hang, March 7th and the newly acquired member of the team, Caelus, set out on a new journey to a planet called Jarillo-VI to possibly learn more about the Stellaron and Aeons.

You were really lucky to join this lively group of so many different personalities, even more so to being able to call them your friends! A life of a mercenary wasn't an easy one, especially since you had to do the dirty work ever since you were barely a teen. It sure had it's moments especially as you got older, being able to wander and see all what your world had to offer, fighting bandits and monster was a thrilling experience for sure! But after years of doing so it quickly became a mundane thing to do, the thrill of adventure gone and replaced with it being more of a (very strenuous) chore to keep food in your stomach. With no one to come home to and with the very few 'friends' you made it quickly became...depressing and frankly, empty.

Everything changed when you met the charming Lady Himeko during one of your journeys. To be perfectly honest you still don't know how it happened; one day you're slaying another monster and on the other you're standing in this brilliant intergalactical train to explore the unknown of space with a group of people who call you their friend and you can finally call that someone too.

But...you'd be lying if you said that you didn't have favorites. Something about Welt and his specific kind of charm made you swoon and his kind heart and old soul only sealed the deal.

But back to present. During the journey to Jarilo-VI all of the members of the team scattered around the train. Caelus was in the main hall looking in fascination into the vast endless space, March was probably somewhere causing trouble, Himeko was busy reading, Dan Hang was probably in his room looking through old archives and Pom-Pom was grumbling something under their breath about 'an unruly pink girl'.

And you? You were staying in your room, deciding on lazing around in your comfy bed before the new big adventure on the unknown planet; something was telling you that there would be much more trouble than any of you thought.

Just as you were laying around and almost falling asleep, a quiet knock reverberated through your otherwise quiet room.

'Come in!' you loudly said, thinking it's maybe Caelus with a question or perhaps March with one of her 'genius' ideas, but it was none of them.

It was Welt, standing just on the threshold of your room, looking tired and quite worn out. Your sleepy eyes widened slightly at the sight of the older man and immediately called him over to sit with you on your bed. What concerned you even more was the lack of resistance from the man, on a normal occasion you'd be elated to see that your partner was finally getting comfortable enough to be more open with his feelings without the 'but it's inappropriate !' talk.

Just the sight of the brown haired man in such a state made you upset so you immediately slid in next to him when he sat down with a heavy sigh. Your hands gently brushed through his graying hair and made their way down to his strong neck and shoulders to massage them a bit and relieve some of the pressure.

The deep pleased rumble coming from Welt's chest was enough of an answer but your massage was soon enough interrupted by the man turning around, broad shoulders moving and soon he was facing you with your face cradled gently in his warm palms, rough with calluses from years of fighting.

You allowed yourself to relax even more, your head feeling heavy again as your eyelids slowly closed again before quietly asking the one burning question:

"Hey love, not that I'm complaining but...did something happen? You're usually not this affectionate", you chuckled slightly and Welt released a amused sigh himself.

"Yeah, guess I'm not huh? It's just...eh forget it darling, nothing important anyway." Welt looked down again while still holding your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks now.

You moved closer to him, your full breasts almost touching his chest with how close you were, and it was your turn to take his face into your hands to make him look at you, a slight flush spreading on his pale cheeks.

"Weeeell, something clearly is bothering you, I can see it clear as day Welt. I'm not going to pressure you into saying it but I see that something is on your mind and not in a good way." You words were accompanied with one of your hands moving up his cheek to his hair where you combed through it, the gray streaked hair soft under your fingertips.

Instead of replying, you saw Welt moving his hand from your exposed thigh, to your tummy before slowly dragging it upward your side only to rest on your shoulder where he slowly slipped the thin shoulder strap from your nightgown down and leaning in slowly to lay a gentle kiss on your neck before moving your your collarbone and shoulder.

You let out a breath at the warm affection from your boyfriend, your hand still in his hair while the other was now firmly placed on the bed to keep you up in your position.

Soon, you felt Welt move down from kissing your shoulder to the beginning of the swell of your breast while maintaining eye-contact with you, his beautiful golden brown eyes half-lidden and dimmed with love.

You decided to move into a more comfortable position and while still cradling Welt's head to your breast, you moved back to lay on your back against the mound of pillows nestled on your bed allowing Welt to cuddle to your side and continue his insistent affections.

A slightly louder breathy moan was let out when Welt started to mouth and lick at your pert nipple before finally closing his mouth on it and suckling, his eyes never leaving yours. You looked down at the man sucking with a content hum and noticed that the formerly tense muscles started to relax in your hold, his face also starting to become more and more lax, a serene far-away look in his eyes.

You let out a quiet pleasured sigh as you let the older man suckle as much as he wanted while still cradling his head and combing through his hair. Whatever it was that was troubling him could wait just a moment longer, Welt finally relaxing in your hold and you did not wish to upset him just as he started to enjoy himself.

You'd address it after Welt felt ready and after your nap. Your eyes slowly closing and breath relaxing, lulled into sleep by the gently tug on your nipple and Welt's quiet hums.

As long as you had each other, you knew everything would be fine.

#kin speaks #gee what an ending #it was totally different from what i planned #but oh well ;; #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #welt yang x reader #welt yang

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hi! Can you do a Morpheus x reader where she’s like his right hand and has been around since the beginning and is the second command and/or hand of the king and Morpheus is down bad and everyone can see he worships the ground she walks on and people who don’t know them are confused who is the ruler and who is actually the right hand because there so attentive to each other.the reader stays In The dreaming when Morpheus is captured and never stops trying to bring him home.and maybe a confession/proposal from dream

"The Right Honourable" - Morpheus x Reader

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.3k Sandman-inspired playlist

The dispute over Roaring Plains went back to the creation of Dreaming. Barty and Garth claimed that the land belonged to their respective ancestors and that either should be the rightful and exclusive owner of the seven hills. After aeons of arguing and waking up every entity nearby at the crack of dawn with their yelling, Barty and Garth decided to finally take the matter to the King. After all, whose judgement could settle their dispute if not the voice of the Lord of the Realm?

Morpheus had a curious habit of sitting on his throne leaning slightly to the left where you stood as if he was always expecting you to chip in like a temptress whispering sweet words that slowly ruin an empire. Only you were quite the opposite - a temptress that softened the strong hand with which he ruled like a warm sunray brushing against frosty cheeks on a winter morning.

Due to the slightly overwhelming emptiness of the throne room, the rushed footsteps belonging to Barty and Garth resounded throughout the hall in a loud echo. As they marched through the marble corridors, their blurry reflections on the polished marble following them in an equally irate manner, the two farmers made sure to keep their comically large distance between each other.

Barty, being significantly taller than his neighbour Garth, approached the throne much faster and wasted no time in starting a broil. "I have come here to regain my rightful land!"

"Your rightful land?!" Garth asked between his pants. He tried to push Barty but the taller man didn't even flinch - he seemed to be more angry about Garth touching his brand new velvet green vest than attempting to shove him. "Roaring Plains belongs to me, ya dobber!"

The marble corridors as if with newly-found spite managed to make the affront louder and sharper sounding. Hearing the tasteless insult, you wanted to cut the growing tension as soon as possible. It was no way to speak in the presence of a king. "Garth, if you could-"

"Hey!" the farmer interrupted you. A deep wrinkle appeared between his thick, furrowed eyebrows. His angered face was about as maroon as his plaid tam o'shanter. It was worth noting that he took the hat off a little too late considering he had originally entered the throne room of the palace with his head covered. "I'm trying to speak to our merciful lord!"

Suddenly, Morpheus clenched his hand in a fist and moved ever so slightly out of the throne, sitting now on its very edge - ready to jump off it at any moment, a poked lion ready to pounce. "You will address the Right Honourable with proper respect," he began in a bizarrely calm, wavering voice like all of his energy was directed at not lashing out at the very moment, "or you can leave my palace and hope I have too many duties to tend to on this day."

Garth almost opened a dispute but managed to bite himself in the tongue. Barty tried to discreetly slap his neighbour on the shoulder as though to bring him to his senses.

"Garth and I came to you, my merciful lord, due to an old dispute about the land, Roaring Plains. After generations of disagreeing, we decided to leave the judgement to you, the highest and most rightful instance in this beautiful realm."

You looked at Morpheus when Barty regurgitated sleazy brown-nosing you had heard many times before. Despite the general lack of expression on his face, you could quickly tell he was growing tired and angrier: it was visible in the way he sat, the way his foot tapped against the floor and even the way he occasionally inhaled in a strangely sharp way as if he closed his ears to all the sweet-talking and consciously focused on breathing calmly to not lose his grip on emotions. It was something you appreciated about him as a king as well as a man - Morpheus was pragmatic. He yearned for honesty and straightforwardness, which wasn't exactly common in the royalty of any kind.

"I've heard enough." Morpheus interrupted the respective ramblings of Barty and Garth, each of them telling tall tales as irrefutable proof of being the exclusive, rightful owners of the disputed land. Given the severity of the conflict, it was pretty surprising that both farmers stopped talking the moment Dream asked them to. Neither of them was willing to go back home defeated.

It was such a normal thing for you to lean down and whisper. Only occasionally did Morpheus not expect for you to chip in and on such rare instances he made it very clear - he leaned as far away from you as he could while remaining seated. "My lord, Roaring Plains is too much land for one man to farm, no matter how driven. They could share it, bring prosperity in place of envy."

Another normal thing regarding your council was the way Morpheus would look at you. His bright eyes stared into yours with a certain reflection, always making you wonder what in the world he was pondering while admiring your face merely inches apart. Sometimes his blue eyes seemed strangely vacant as if the moment you appeared before them all coherent thoughts left his mind and there was only you in the entire universe. But it was only a nice thought about a nice man - you never quite believe there was even a grain of truth in that little observation.

Visibly reluctantly, Morpheus finally looked away from you and at the two farmers who nervously waited for the king's judgement. Barty kept picking at the hem of his velvet vest, picking off invisible dust and lost strings, while Garth crumpled his hat in his clammy, stained hands.

"So it shall be," Morpheus announced garnering the attention of the farmers. Both of them raised their eyebrows in surprise, clearly not knowing what their merciful lord meant through his words. "Roaring Plains shall be shared by you and your families from this day forward. Dismissed."

Barty and Garth looked at each other unsure. The taller of them forced a smile on his face and reluctantly extended his hand to the other man. Garth looked at the hand, then at the man's face and slowly shook Garth's hand. Barty quietly said something to his neighbour only to put his arm around his shoulder afterwards and lead him out of the palace. The ancient dispute seemed to have disappeared in a matter of minutes.

"King Morpheus unites and not divides," you said in an exaggerated official tone when the two of you were alone again. "Sounds rather lovely, doesn't it?"

He stared at you with a shadow of a smile dancing across his face. Everyone knew about Dream's affection towards you, perhaps except for the King himself. Should he be asked about it, he'd deny any favouritism and simply state that he follows your advice because it's good advice. "I owe such praise to my Right Honourable."

Some, however, began to consider a certain shift of power having witnessed their lord's curious affection towards you. In a colourful analogy, one might compare the arrangement to a magician and his assistant: everyone knows that it's the assistant who does the real magic. While the audience is captivated by the showman pulling another bunny from a hat, the true prestidigitator has a chance to fool the onlookers right in front of their faces. Such nonsense would have been already disputed officially in the King's court but firm believers of that conspiracy remained too anxious of their lord to ever bring their suspicions to light.

If someone from the Waking World was to visit Dreaming, one of the first things they'd notice would be the strangely unchangeable weather and a suspicious lack of wind. The latter, however, was a much more complex issue as there were only two places in all of Dreaming where air moved: Fiddler's Green, with its gentle spring breeze and the terrace garden of the King's palace where an equally gentle zephyr brushed against vines, trees and flowers.

The case of said terrace gardens was interesting in itself as it wasn't as old as the rest of the palace. In fact, there were villages in Dreaming that were older than the flowery addition, although the thickness and sprawl of the red ivy could suggest otherwise. Aside from ivy, the garden had beautiful flowerbeds of white roses, buttercups, carnations and lilies. Morpheus always thought they bloomed so nicely only because they were envious of your own charm.

"Right Honourable?" The familiar voice distracted you from the thick book you had in your hands. Morpheus was strolling towards you, clearly not in a rush to get on with any duties left for the day. "Lucienne doesn't take lightly the books leaving her library."

The sun was behind your back, creating an angelic halo of bright light and blooming flowers that filled the terrace garden. If you were to be gone the next morning, that was the way Morpheus would have wanted to remember you: happy, with nature cradling around you to admire your beauty with him. Thankfully, you were going to be in the Dreaming the next day. And the day after that as well as many more centuries to come. You were sitting on a marble bench with carved decorative birds and for a moment, Morpheus considered whether you needed a blanket or a set of cushions. Surely a seat of stone could not be a comfortable reading place.

"I am sorry to inform you, my lord but I'm afraid I'm the only exception to that rule. Lucienne has told me that I might be the only person who actually returns them on time."

"What is it you're reading?" he said as he sat down beside you. It was a rare occasion that both of you could do something else besides tending to the kingdom. Quite curiously, even during those scarce moments of downtime, you still decided to spend it with each other.

"The Goldfinch, my lord." Keeping your finger inside it, you closed the book to show the minimalistic and yet very meaningful cover. "It's about a boy who steals his late mother's favourite painting from a gallery and runs across the world with it. He ends up in Holland..." your voice trailed away and Morpheus silently waited for the questions you were inevitably going to ask. "Do you think Holland's nice?" you said as you looked at him.

"Waking World is no place for us." He spared no time in repeating obvious rules you were more than familiar with - you were there when they were written.

"I know, my lord," you answered in a slightly sadder tone. Sometimes you wished he didn't remind you of the fate bestowed on you. "Yet the stories from there always make me wonder. Like the titular goldfinch: it's this small yellow bird with black wings and a black forehead. Must be beautiful with its noble look." Your free hand longingly traced the bird on the cover as you spoke. "I'd love to see one someday, even in someone's dream."

The next few hours Morpheus and you had spent in silence as you were reading the book and he seemed to be thinking about something. It was a comfortable silence: one that falls between people who know each other a little too well to always be talking about something; after aeons spent together, there was hardly anything new you could tell each other but it wasn't awkward or upsetting in any way. No, it was a very comforting feeling that one may know someone too well to flood them with their stories and thoughts. After all, to be known is to be loved. Your next day began with an unfamiliar chirping outside the palace walls.

And one day he simply did not come back. He made promises and assurances and for the first time since the dawn of times, the word of the Dream Lord was not kept.

The palace was... silent. But not in the sense of a lack of sounds, no. It was silent of life, as though the moment the Lord of Dreaming had left his realm, all of his creation began slowly dying. You could only hope their fatal condition was not unanimous to Dream's. It was as if in creating his realm, Morpheus placed a part of himself in each particle present in that world. With him gone, that easy-to-overlook and yet entirely essential element had disappeared too. The genius loci of Dreaming didn't simply change in the absence of its master, no, it was completely gone as if vacancy could be a wraith that haunts.

"You have done all you could, Right Honourable," Lucienne assured you. The echo of her voice made the marble halls feel even more empty and abandoned than when they were drowning in dreaded silence. "We can only await our lord's immediate return." In her mind, he was always on his way back, about to reappear the very next moment, despite long decades of his absence.

"'All I could' seems to not be enough, Lucienne."

"We all miss him. You're not alone."

"It's quite the contrary, my dear," you answered without looking at her at first. With Dream's prolonged absence, she was adamant about keeping you company. "Morpheus was someone else to each and every one of us. I can not understand your loneliness and you can not understand mine. We are both lonely in our loneliness, how sad is that?"

Lucienne didn't answer your question but truthfully, you weren't exactly looking for one.

Dream's throne wasn't comfortable to sit on but he wasn't a man chasing comfort. The seat was rigid, prickly and made one overly conscious of their body and how it was contorted. Maybe there was some timeless wisdom in the king's throne being uncomfortable to sit or perhaps Morpheus was a bit of a masochist. Funnily enough, both options seemed equally probable.

"He always hated when I-..." you hung your voice. A heavy sigh left your lips before you corrected yourself. "He hates when I sit here. He tries his best not to show it and pretends he doesn't see but I can tell. And now, when I have to, I dread it. Do you think he feels the same way when he sits on the throne? That he has to watch his breath or else the whole kingdom turns to ashes."

"Our lord Morpheus is a noble ruler. We must have faith in him, Right Honourable."

"That we do," you said quietly under your breath as you sighed. You remained seated on his throne, staring mercilessly at the palace door as if you could will his return into existence.

And one day, a long overdue day, he simply showed up - tired, confused, angry, barely dressed. He refused to talk at first, storming through the palace halls, filled with rage that would put gods of war to shame. Something dark got a hold of him and you couldn't imagine what that meant for Dreaming and you.

After a hundred years of staring at the entrance of the palace, the king had finally returned but not exactly the same as the day he left. There was a strange coldness in his attitude, something he never quite showed towards you or Lucienne. Not wanting to anger him further, you quietly sneaked out of the palace to wait out his labile mood in the gardens. Ever since he disappeared, you watched them only through the windows, never daring to leave the throne room in case Morpheus suddenly returned or a calamity fell on the realm and you were responsible for mending it.

What once had been a terrace garden, now was nothing but a sad remnant of happier days, a monument of longing and heartache. Ivy was completely dry, its red leaves were nowhere to be seen. Brown vines barely engulfed the walls of the palace, threatening to break off and fall with a mere gust of wind. The flowers, too, had forgotten their former glory; shrubbery that had died so long ago that even soil forgot what they once were. The palace haven was once filled with excited chirping, while now none could be heard. Out of the goldfinches Morpheus had made, only one of them was left: an exhausted, emaciated bird that occasionally let out a quiet, sad chirp as if he was still trying to call out to his long-gone brothers.

The sound of heels tapping against the tiled floor made you turn around and finally look away from the ruins that you once called a garden. He seemed to not look at you but rather at the shrubbery behind you - at the dry ivy, dead flowers and the golden bird that refused to fly farther than a meter or two. For a moment you felt invisible as Morpheus walked towards the railing to get a better look at the gardens below. Judging by the slight raise of his eyebrows, you knew it was the first time he was seeing them after his return: he didn't know what ruin awaited in place of flowers and birds.

"What happened to you?" you asked quietly after a moment of silence. You weren't sure yourself whether you meant his sudden coldness or the entire century he was gone. Both had left you worried and unnerved.

"I was imprisoned by an amateur witch," he answered quietly. His voice was filled with contempt. "He managed to steal my tools as well."

Quite unsurprisingly, you didn't know what to tell him. A simple 'I'm sorry' wouldn't cut it when a case of being held captive for a hundred years was considered. "Morpheus, I-" you stuttered.

"While in captivity, I have had a lot of time to think," he continued without letting you interrupt.

"About what?"

"Various matters," he said in a dismissive manner. "Things passed as well as those that are yet to happen. Perhaps even things I wish would become true." You couldn't know it as you were looking at the dead plants but Dream bore his eyes into you as he spoke of his potential wishes.

"Such as?" you coaxed him.

"Although your council has always been wise and dear to me, there was another reason why I followed your advice. To make you happy."

Why in the name of all things holy would the king of Dreaming be concerned with that? You furrowed your eyebrows and quickly turned your head to look at Morpheus who was already staring at you. There was an intimidating intensity in his eyes like he was about to bestow a deeply hidden secret upon you.

"Like this garden." He looked away from you for a moment. Staring at his profile, you saw him slightly push his lips tighter together. "Its only purpose was to cure your unhappiness that tore my heart. It failed its purpose as did I. And this little bird, which occupied your mind as much as... I'd like to."

His confession seemed strange, to say the least. Morpheus wasn't one to talk about his feelings and so whatever knowledge he just shared with you it was of utmost importance as well secrecy.

"Morpheus, I'm afraid I don't entirely understand what you're trying to say." To be exact, you had a burning suspicion as to what he was suggesting but you wanted him to say it out loud - just to make sure it wasn't your yearning imagination bending the edges of reality.

In a gentle manner, he took your hand into his and looked into your eyes. The intensity you had seen in them before had only gotten deeper, rawer. "I had miss you greatly, my Right Honourable. I'm asking you to become my queen if you're willing to have me as your king."

"My king?" you repeated. "It nearly sounds obscene if you put it like that."

The corner of his mouth slightly pulled up. For the first time in a hundred years, the lonely goldfinch chirped happily. Perhaps, its loneliness, just like yours, was about to end.

#the sandman #the sandman imagine #the sandman netflix #the sandman fanfiction #morpheus sandman #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #morpheus imagine #morpheus x you #morpheus x reader #morpheus #morpheus fanfiction #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader

[deathbxnny]

Oooooooh this idea has been bouncing around in my mind like a Window’s screen saver.

Yanqing with an S/O who resisted ascending to Aeon-hood because they wanted to stay with him? Then, in order to save him, they finally decided to use their full powers. But by doing this, they’d have to surrender their physical form.

I have a few OCs who hide the fact they have Aeon proportional strength and I wanna share it with someone if that’s okay with you.

-----♡

A/N: Oh I don't mind! I certainly like the idea, so thank you for your request, Anon!<3

Content: Angst, hurt/no comfort (kinda), we should really stop terrorising Yanqing, established relationships, mentions of battle, Reader technically dies, bittersweet ending?

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

You never told Yanqing about what you truly were. You were worried, that he'd treat you differently, perhaps even leave you. You resisted becoming an Aeon to be with him and decided to leave it at that. He didn't need to know. You kept the secret to yourself for many years, glad that he be never questioned your strength or powers all too much. Why should he anyways, when he was constantly surrounded by such strong people?

But it all came to a head, when you were forced to reveal your true self during an attack. You sighed, knowing there was no way out, as your eyes found Yanqing's. You had to save him at least. Even if you knew, that it would cause your end. "I'm sorry. I'll always be there, I promise!" You could only weakly shout, whilst you ran right at the enemy, bracing for your death to come. Yanqing freezed, years of training disappearing from his mind instantly, when the enemy stabbed their sword right through you.

You clutched onto their hand, gritting your teeth and closing your teary eyes, before releasing your powers at full force. Your body glowed, slowly disintegrating, until there was nothing left of you or the enemy. Yanqing's legs buckled, his body crashing onto his knees, his hand reaching out for nothing. He was still too weak after all. He couldn't save you, even if you wanted to save him. He didn't understand what had just happened.

He remained frozen in shock for what seemed like days after. Even now, as he sat under the trees you two often met under, his eyes staring off into the distance painfully. He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. It felt like he couldn't even breathe either. Living seemed impossible. But then... a small butterfly landed on his nose. Yanqing blinked, slightly shaking his head, making the butterfly fly onto his finger instead. It was your favourite kind.

A weak smile finally found his face, as he chuckled bitterly. You kept your promise after all.

-----♡

A/N: Alright, I hope this was okay! Thank you again for the request!<33

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr yanqing #hsr yanqing x reader #hsr

[mybadlywrittenstories]

Enchanted to meet you (Paul Lahote X OC) Part 2

Note: Hey guys this is just a quick little chapter but I assure you all I will be posting another very quickly Word Count: 856

Aeon and Jen laid in bed most of the night, after their daughter had interrupted the meeting with the shifters, things ended quickly afterwards. To most people, the change in the atmosphere would’ve been almost undetectable, however both Aeon and Jen were magic users and could feel like slight shimmer in the room as their eldest daughter Amelia made eye contact with one of the shifters, Paul Lahote. They both were very familiar with the wolf shifters lore, and very aware of the imprinting bond that had an unbreakable hold on them. Aeon had very swiftly ushered the pack towards the basement where they had set up a temporary guest bedroom situation for them—while Jen stayed sat on the couch. Complete and Utter Rage barely remaining contained.

“I don’t know how you can be so okay with this.” Jen gritted through her teeth, casting a sideways glare at the side of her husband’s head. His face was smooth and serene, if it had anyone else gazing upon him, they would’ve assumed him to be asleep; however, she knew better.

“You know, just as I do, that we are no match against fate, My dear.” His tone didn’t portray any emotion as he spoke, which made Jen’s blood boil.

“This isn’t her fate, Aeon.” She propped herself up on her elbow as she turned to fully face him, “Amelia is supposed to take over the Coven, not fall into some story-tale romance with a shifter of all people! We both know just how unruly and short tempered the shifters can be, and you’re just going to sit back and accept it?”

“My love,” He began opening his eyes to meet hers, “You know that I love you and the girls more than anything else in this entire realm. If I genuinely believed he posed some danger, of course I would be concerned. I do not mean to offend you my dear, but I fear you may be judging them a little too swiftly. Yes, the shifters are a formidable enemy, however only if you make them the enemy. The same wolf blood that causes their short tempers is also the same blood that makes them fiercely loyal and protective of those around them. You have also not seen them in battle, I have. Those few years ago when I was called upon to witness for the Cullens, I saw two wolf packs, fighting alongside each other all to protect the imprint of one of the wolves.” Aeon paused to look into the eyes of his wife and could tell the flame of her worry and anger had not been extinguished. “What else is troubling your mind?” He reached out gently, tracing the side of her face moonlit face.

“I just…” She breathed out, leaning into the loving touch of her husband, “She has barely lived, Aeon. Now, she’s supposed to go run off to Vegas and get married? How will she know this is what she wants?”

Aeon let out a breathy laugh. “No, my sweet, sweet, Jenny, I think you misunderstand the imprint bond.” The corners of his mouth tug into a small smile as he sees the look of confusion spread across her features. “Yes, the young man that is sleeping in our basement this very second, could possibly become the future lover of our daughter. That, however, is not for certain. All we can know at this moment is that he will be there for her, through thick and thin, protecting her and loving her in any way she needs, whether that is the love of a brother, best friend, or Lover. All this means for our daughter is that no matter what, she will always have someone by her side who has her best interests in mind.”

“Oh.” Is all she could say as she attempted to shift her way of thinking. A thick blanket of anxiety was wrapped tightly around her heart as she tried to consider what this means for her eldest daughter. If she was to take over the coven, she would benefit from a bodyguard. Having that much power in the magical world did come with a target on her back, and this Paul could make out to be a good protector.

She shook her head gently, dispelling the positive look she had taken on the situation, she still did not like this at all. She raised her daughters to pave their own road in life, not let anyone hold them back. This seemed all too… all too…

She let out a groan of frustration, letting her head fall onto her husband’s chest, as her mind failed to conjure the proper words to describe the feelings eating away at her. Aeon simply entangled his fingers into her hair and gently massaged her scalp, pressing a small kiss on top her head, “It will be alright, I assure you. Give it some time and I promise you will see.”

That was the final words exchanged between the two parents that night, they slipped into a deep sleep not long after, both minds full of thoughts of their dear daughter, Amelia.

#oc #twilight #paul lahote fanfiction #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote x amelia boleyn #paul lahote #wolf pack #twilight fanfic #witch #fae #twilight sage #au #enchanted to meet you #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote fanfic

[fiorella-a]

Honkai Star Rail girls as... "Lovers Rock" song lyrics (+short scenarios)

Info:

-Gn! Reader

-Fluff

March 7th:

"And if she grabs for your hand

And drags you along

She might want a kiss

Before the end of this song"

>> After Danheng and March have accompanied the trailblazer on their first trailblazing mission, March went back into the express, dragging you out in Belebog by the hands with her camera out. You had to calm her down while Dan Heng had to apologize to you on what he says "behalf of March's behavior" you tell him it's no worries and it's not a big deal. March yet again, drags you away from Danheng and leads you into a nearby park while she took her selfies there (and some pictures of you alone and with the both of you too)

While she was inspecting the pictures she took, you took out your phone and earphones and resumed the song you were listening to earlier. Taking the left side of the earphone, cleaning it with a cloth and putting it into March's ear.

March would look at you with a smile "Thank you! I appreciate it!"

March often feels like she's in a block of ice but your warmth and energy seems to melt it all away, over and over again.

Himeko:

"And if you start to kiss

And the record skips

Flip it over

And sit a little closer"

>> While Pom-pom's talking with Welt, you and Himeko are exchanging stories and savoring the comfortable silence once you both have nothing to talk about. Himeko meets your eyes that are staring at her dreamily, and Himeko could only return to you the stare back that is until the music stops. You stood up to pick another song that fits the mood of the Place and himeko signals for you to sit beside her– this time, close enough to lay her head onto your shoulders while you both listen to the music, although that doesn't happen as soon as you thought it would. As you sat down, Himeko gave you a short and gentle kiss on your cheek before finally relaxing and laying her head onto your shoulders while looking out in the galaxy.

Bronya:

"Because love can burn like a cigarette

And leave you alone with nothing

And leave you alone with nothing"

>> How high is your standard? High enough to develop feelings for the future ruler, Bronya Rand herself. Of course, everytime you both are together Bronya reads you like an open book and knows exactly how you're feeling, but unfortunately she can't confess her feelings. How will she do it? When should she do it? Am I sure that I like them? Am I sure THEY like me? Will mother approve? Should I even let mother know? And while she's spacing out with the questions in her head, she snaps out of it when she hears what you have just said: "I like you, missy" you said it so gracefully and laughing to yourself at the title 'missy'

She forces a cough and looks onto the sky before looking at you. "I feel the same way, Y/n." And she looks away as she feels her cheeks change into a rosy-pink color.

You smile at her, "Since we're alone in this café i'll consider it a date, my treat!"

Bronya knows that if her mother ever finds out, her mother would act like the Aeon of Destruction. She imagines that her mother orders you to be punished, she imagines herself losing her mother's trust and this forbidden love could leave her with nothing. But if loving you means losing everything? She's willing to sacrifice that. It's you and her against the world, after all.

Asta:

"While the others talk

We were listening to lovers rock

In her bedroom

In her bedroom"

>> It's hard for you to fall asleep and you've asked a lot from your friends to give you a tip or advice to help you fall into slumber, and Asta is the only one that gave you the most helpful advice! (Def not because you like her)

Exactly at 11:11 PM she'll message you;

"11:11 hope you had a good day! My room's open! ❤️"

You replied to Asta's message: "11:11 and thank you. Omw!"

Once you arrive at her room, her bed has been made and you will find her tablet at the bottom of the bed while it's connected to a mini speaker. As the music plays, Asta's sitting on the bed, playing with your hair and humming along the tune of the song. To be honest, you always fall asleep deeply due to her voice but you'll never admit that.

Natasha:

"She might let you stay

But just for the night"

>> Natasha sighs at you. There were only three people at her clinic and you decided to sleep there and you didn't ask for her permission! "Good Evening to you too, Y/n, please do not– and you are gonna stay here." Sigh "Go ahead, i'll wake you up early? Alright?" You nod at her words and she smiles oh-so-brightly at you and finally lets you in, you always lay down where her table is the nearest. Natasha would never ever admit this, but she always lets you stay just like how you let her stay into your heart.

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #march 7th #march 7th x reader #himeko #himeko x reader #bronya #bronya rand #bronya x reader #asta hsr #asta x reader #natasha hsr #natasha x reader #hsr fluff #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #gn reader #gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #x reader #reader insert #lovers rock #fanfic #hsr fanfic #hsr imagines #honkai fanfic

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - This Feeling

Apologies for being a day late, but the fic is finally here. This one follows directly after the events of Broken, so it might be a good idea to read that first if you haven't.

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Title: This Feeling

Word Count: 8,531

Content and Warnings: snz (F, N-B, mention of male snz), illness, caretaking

In which Oraion must learn to adapt to a situation he's never experienced in his long life - being responsible for a sick human.

--------------------

Even without looking, he could feel those golden eyes boring into him. He always hated that unnerving, probing gaze that seemed to strip him bare despite the layers of his robes, so he kept his gaze ahead as they walked and he tried to process the words being spoken to him.

"I am sorry. It brings me no pleasure to bear this news. I know how much you care for her."

He took a breath and attempted, with great effort, to keep his voice calm.

"There has to be another way."

"Oraion." The man placed a firm hand on his arm, stopping him, but his tone softened a moment later. "There is not. Believe me, I have done everything within my power to find another path, but… there is none. The process has already begun; her fate cannot be changed. Not even by me. One way or another, she will die—"

He shut his own eyes. "No—!"

"Nothing can change that now. The only thing we can do is to ensure that it happens while she is still herself." He sighed and his touch vanished from Oraion’s arm. “I… would like to offer you the opportunity. I understand if you cannot do it, but it seemed wrong not to ask you first.”

At last Oraion turned to the man beside him, the absurdity of those words drawing him to seek some hint of alternate meaning in the other’s face. He shuddered when those eyes met his, unable to suppress the motion. One look told him everything he needed to know.

"You want me to…? Are you seriously asking me to kill her?!"

"I am not going to force you. We will find another to—"

"No! I do not wish for her to die!"

The other man lifted his chin, those horrible eyes growing narrow and cold.

"I believe I made it clear that you do not have a say in the matter. The only reason you and I are even having this conversation is out of respect for your aeons of faithful service. Her sacrifice will forestall disaster and spare countless lives. Surely you understand that. I do not make this decision lightly, but the needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few. Or do you intend to oppose the will of the gods?"

Oraion awoke.

Morning. He reached a hand up to his face and traced a lingering trail of wetness with his fingers.

"... a memory?"

It had been quite some time since he had dreamed of that day, and longer still back to the time it had occurred. Ages ago, literally.

As he sat up in bed and cast about with bleary eyes, the demon realized he was not in his own room, but Noelle’s. A moment later the events of the previous evening came rushing back to him in a fresh torrent of emotion and flashes of memory. Noelle coming home bloody and bruised, her breakdown in the front hall, the bath he had given her, tucking her into bed, brewing her the tea that lulled her to sleep, and then…

He couldn’t tell her what he’d done. She didn’t want him to seek retribution for her. Yet old habits died hard, it seemed. Besides, he hadn’t killed the young men who had beaten her—he only visited upon them the same level of pain they had inflicted upon his Mistress. An eye for an eye, as they say.

His gaze fell upon her next to him in the bed, still fast asleep. She moaned a little and turned over, her expression tense. Oraion knew well that her sleep was often plagued by nightmares, but this morning her face was unusually flush. A lock of hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat, and as Oraion went to gently brush the hair out of her face he was surprised at how warm her skin felt. Her eyelids fluttered open and she blinked up at him.

“Mmh… Oraion?”

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Are you all right? You feel oddly warm.”

“Do I?” As she sat up, her chest spasmed with several harsh coughs. “Ugh, I hope I don't have a cold.”

“What? Are you… cold?”

Her brown eyes flicked to the side, hesitant. “Oh… Um, i-it’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”

She tried to get up out of the bed, wincing, and Oraion was on his feet and by her side in an instant. She gave him a sheepish smile.

“I guess I am a bit sore in a few places.”

“Your ankle—are you certain you should be walking on it?”

“It actually feels much better today, thanks to that bath. As long as I’m careful it’ll be all right.”

“Mistress, perhaps you should stay in bed and rest…”

Noelle grimaced and shook her head. “I can’t just lie around all day; I’ll only feel like a bother, and I’ve had quite enough of that. Really, I’m fine, Oraion…”

A sort of distracted look came over her face before she suddenly put her hands over her nose and mouth as her eyes squeezed shut.

“Ishoo! Ishoo! Oh gosh…”

Despite his concern, Oraion couldn’t help but think how cute she was when she sneezed. Gods, she really was rubbing off on him, wasn’t she? Well, his only real experience with sneezing had thus far been in an almost entirely sexual context, so could anyone really blame him for the association?

“Bless you, dear. You were sneezing last night, too.”

She sniffled as her cheeks turned a bit pink. “I-I know. I, uh… It- It was so chilly out last night, y-you know? I, um, guess it got me a bit sniffly.”

Oraion pursed his lips. He had the distinct feeling that Noelle was hiding something, but what it could possibly be, he had no idea. After her ordeal last night, however, he was reluctant to press the issue. Surely she would open up to him when she was ready.

“Is there anything I can do for you, then?”

“Um… Would you make me some more tea? If you don’t mind. I think I’ll just go wash up a bit—I’m so sweaty.”

Oraion nodded, glad to have a clear task to focus on. He made his way down to the kitchen and set about preparing the tea. He was embarrassed to admit it, but it occurred that he should probably learn to make proper food. He’d never needed to, not before he was a Demon Lord, and certainly not since. It always felt beneath him, but whenever he watched Noelle do it there seemed to be a sort of simple joy in it that he’d never bothered to take notice of before. More memories of the previous night came back to him.

“You could always, um, stay here with me. We can just… live like this.”

Could he actually stay here with her? Live like a mortal with her until…

Until she died.

Death. It was what made mortals mortal. It would happen to her one day, hopefully many years from now, but it would happen all the same. So many years had already passed Oraion by; the span of a mortal life was but a fraction of his own. Was he really going to put himself through the pain of staying with her, only to lose her when her time ran out? What was he thinking? He wasn’t thinking, he was letting his emotions rule him, just as he had back then.

Oraion closed his eyes and sighed. How had he gotten in so deep in a single year? Was it this contract that bound him to her? Was it influencing his mind? Making him care for her? Or were these feelings real? Did he… love her? Gods, it had certainly felt like it the night before.

He could still feel the heat of rage that seethed just below the surface, even after giving those thugs the thrashing they deserved. He knew, though, that much of the rage that remained was self-directed. He had failed to protect her, ostensibly his most important duty as her Servant, a role he had come to accept, even enjoy. At first he only felt distaste towards the very idea of being anyone’s “servant”, but Noelle never treated him like an inferior, never enforced a typical Master/Servant relationship. She had always treated him as an equal, a partner…

How did she feel about him? Did she harbor similar feelings as he did?

The demon took both hands and rubbed them up and down his face with a groan.

“Ugh… fuck. I really need to get a grip on myself and make this damned tea instead of having an existential crisis in the kitchen.”

Once the drink was ready, he carried it carefully upstairs. Noelle wasn’t back in her room yet, so he set the tea down next to the bed. Should he check on her? Or was he being overprotective? Caring for her had felt so natural last night, but now he couldn’t help but second-guess his every move. He’d certainly done an excellent job of confusing himself, that was the only thing he was certain about at this point.

He approached the bathroom door and stood outside it for a moment, hesitating, before he steeled himself and rapped on the door.

“Mistress? Are you all right?”

No answer, only the sound of running water. He knocked again.

“… Mistress?”

When silence remained the only answer he grabbed the handle and opened the door, anxiety snaking through his stomach before it dropped as though it fell through the entire tower.

Noelle was lying on the floor, unmoving.

Oraion didn’t even remember crossing the distance before he was at her side, cradling her in his arms.

“Noelle?!”

He lifted her off the floor and carried her to the bedroom, placing her gently on the bed before checking her over. She was breathing and he could sense her heartbeat, but she remained senseless no matter how many times he called her name. Her body felt even hotter than it had before, like she was burning up.

Wait, was this what humans called a “fever”? Her odd behavior, the sneezing and coughing, it all clicked into place.

Noelle was sick.

Oraion racked his brain, trying to remember anything he knew about human illnesses. It had been so long since he’d needed to concern himself with such things, though—at least a thousand years, if not more. Sickness had not even occurred to him as a possibility. What was a simple fact of life for humans was a foreign concept to demons, who were no more familiar with getting sick than they were with growing old: it simply did not happen.

He vaguely recalled something about humans becoming ill if you left them cold and wet for too long. Noelle had been awfully cold when she’d arrived home, and her clothes were soaked through. Was that what she meant when she said she might “have a cold”? Another reason those hooligans deserved what they’d gotten. It was their fault his Mistress was now ill.

Let’s see, what do I know about fevers…? There was that one village back in Shinchuro Province, about three thousand years ago, I think. A fever swept through and they begged for a cure because so many were dying.

He looked back to Noelle with renewed alarm. Were fevers really so deadly to humans? He began to pace, his tail lashing. Had he his full power, he could cure her in an instant with but a touch, but now… His hands balled into fists, enraged at his own impotence. He was only just beginning to untangle his own feelings for her—would the gods really take her from him now? Hadn’t he suffered enough for them?

No, there had to be something he could do. She’d only just fallen ill, so perhaps there was a way to stop the disease from progressing before it was too late. How was he supposed to figure out what that was, though? Most of Oraion’s knowledge of healing herbs was related to their properties on wounds and other physical injuries, not illnesses. Was there anyone he could turn to for help?

His pacing came to an abrupt stop. There was one person he could think of…

* * *

“Hyah!”

Metal bit into wood with a thunk as sword struck training dummy, shaving a chunk off of what would have been an actual person’s shoulder. Quinns wiped a sleeve across their brow: even in the crisp air of an autumn morning they were working up quite a sweat. A number of other members of the Knights honed their skills on other wooden or straw opponents and sparred against each other. Quinns stepped back and shook their shoulders loose, lining up for another go. A shoulder shot wouldn’t take down a truly dangerous opponent. They needed to do better.

They tightened their grip on their sword, assumed a fighting stance, pushed off with their back foot, and—

“Quinns!”

“Hhhgk?!”

Their strike went wide, missing the training dummy altogether. They stumbled as their sword met nothing but empty air, their shoulder protesting as they bounced off the training dummy and fell backwards, landing on their backside.

“Whoa! You okay there, Shaw?”

They heard several snickers and felt everyone’s eyes on them as they climbed back to their feet. The guy who’d called out to them wore a grin they dearly wished they could wipe off his smug face. Instead they took a deep breath and kept their voice even as they wiped the dirt off their uniform.

“I’m fine. Just lost my footing. I’m taking a break.”

Without another word Quinns sheathed their sword and went off to the side of the training grounds before sitting on a low wall.

“What the hell was that? It almost sounded like—”

“Like Oraion? Yes, hello, it is me.”

Quinns blinked as their mouth dropped open, barely stopping themself from swearing aloud.

“What. The. Fuck. Are you seriously inside my fucking head?!”

“Mm, yes and no. I’m not in your head to the point where I can read your thoughts or anything, but I am speaking directly into your mind.”

“What?! Why? HOW?”

“With great effort, and it’s only working because you’re relatively close by. Now, I don’t have time for a lesson in psionics: I need your help.”

“... What did you do now?”

“Nothing! Why do you always—? Ugh, never mind. Listen: Noelle is sick, and… I don’t know what to do.”

“Sick? Sick how?”

“I, uh, I think she has a fever? Her body is very warm. She said it wasn’t anything serious, but then she fainted. That’s- That’s not normal, right? I mean, is she going to wake up? What if she doesn’t? I-I don’t know anything about caring for sick humans. What if I do something wrong and make things worse? Gods, I can't even cook! I—”

“Whoa, slow down. Does she have any other symptoms?”

“Er, she was sneezing and coughing a bit last night and this morning.”

“Okay. Yes, it is a little concerning that she fainted, but it might just be a cold.”

“Yes, yes, she said that as well, but I don’t know what that is!”

“Oh… Uh, a cold is a pretty minor disease that humans get. It usually affects the nose and throat—coughing, sneezing, runny nose, sore throat, that kind of thing. It’s kind of like if you had an allergy attack for a week straight, and you were also tired and achy. It’s not fun, but it usually resolves itself on its own, and it’s rarely serious.”

“Then… she’s not dying?”

Quinns did not exactly trust Noelle’s pet demon, but there was no mistaking the note of hope and relief that colored his pseudo-voice in Quinns’s head. Maybe he wasn’t all bad…

“I doubt it. If she’s got a fever and she’s sweating a lot, then she might be dehydrated on top of feeling sick, so that may be why she passed out. Make sure she gets some water when she wakes up. If she doesn’t wake up after a few minutes, though…” They chewed on their bottom lip as several trains of thought fought for dominance in their mind. “Give me some time to get ready, and then I’ll come over to help. I’ll bring some medicine and food.”

They heard Oraion sigh in their mind, which was thoroughly weird.

“Thank you, Quinns. I don’t—”

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Noelle.”

“I know, but still… Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get out of my head already, would you? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Very well.”

Quinns waited for a few seconds but didn’t hear anything else in their head. Had the demon actually gone?

“... You still there?”

When no response came, there was a moment where Quinns wondered if they had just hallucinated the entire conversation. Noelle’s tower was several miles away—was Oraion actually able to find where Quinns was and speak to them over that distance?

They shook their head in an effort to clear it. If they dismissed Oraion’s message as a trick or hallucination, and Noelle really was in trouble, then they’d be abandoning their friend when she needed them most. If they showed up at her tower and nothing was amiss, then they could figure out what was actually going on after they knew Noelle was safe. They had to assume it was real, and that Noelle needed their help.

They made a stop at their personal quarters for the medicine—a trip to the infirmary could raise too many questions about what they needed the medicine for. Unlike the Order, the Knights of the Midnight Falcon recruited on a volunteer basis, which meant that the number of healers in their ranks was never consistent. Add to that the fact that most Knights were, like Quinns, knights errant, and the chances of a healer who could prepare medicines being at headquarters were middling at best. As such, medical supplies were carefully rationed and kept track of. 

Food they could procure more easily and with fewer questions, so they went to the kitchen and started loading a basket with supplies for making soup. They may not be the best cook, but they could make some simple dishes. That was leagues better than Oraion, who even went so far as to admit he couldn't cook. Besides, how hard could soup be? You just threw a bunch of stuff into boiling water and let it sit for a while, right? Quinns grabbed some fresh meat and a bunch of different vegetables. Spices they could get from Noelle’s pantry—she always kept that well-stocked since she used the herbs for both cooking and magic.

“Oh, hey Quinns! What’re you up to?”

Quinns swore internally. There could not be a worse time for this. They blew out a breath and spoke without turning around as they tucked the last of the ingredients into the basket and covered it.

“Hey Ollie. Just grabbing a few things. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’re not in my way. I was just gonna get something to eat.” He let out a warm chuckle. “I kinda overslept and, uh, missed breakfast with everyone.”

“I see. Well, I’ll leave you to it then. I have some things to take care of—”

Quinns picked up the basket and turned around to find Oliver standing right behind them. For being such a big klutz he sure moved as quietly as a cat sometimes. Quinns took a step back with a start.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Oliver rubbed the back of his neck with an apologetic smile and took a step back of his own. Oliver Dietrich had a fluffy, orange cat tail that swayed behind him, while the orange-furred ears that poked out of his light blonde hair flicked. “I forget you’re allergic to me sometimes.”

“N-no, it’s, uh, it’s fine… Well, I gotta go, so, uh…”

Even having taken a step back, Oliver was still blocking Quinns from leaving the kitchen. The younger Knight showed no indication of moving out of the way, either, and instead tilted his head to one side.

“What’s the basket for? Are you having a picnic?”

“What? No, I’m just… getting some ingredients for something.”

“For what?”

“Look, it’s nothing, okay? Can I please leave?”

Oliver crossed his arms and didn’t budge. “Well, is it something or nothing?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing. I don’t have time for this, Ollie!”

“If it’s nothing, then it shouldn’t be a problem for me to see, right? So show me what’s in the basket.”

“No.”

“Show me or I’ll hug you.”

Quinns physically recoiled. They were already starting to feel itchy just being this close to him.

“What?!”

“Kidding! I’m kidding! Sorry, it’s just- agh, I’m so curious! Can’t I see what you have? Or at least tell me what you’re making! Pleeease?”

With his pleading eyes and the way his tail lashed, Oliver gave Quinns the impression of an excitable golden retriever rather than a cat.

“Oh my gods, will you go away if I do?”

“Yes! On my honor as a Knight!”

Quinns sighed and opened the basket, showing Oliver the contents. “Fine. I’m making soup, okay?”

The time Oliver spent staring silently into the basket with his brow furrowed started to border on uncomfortable.

“Uh… Can I go now?”

“You said you’re making soup?”

“Yeah. You got a problem with that?”

“No, no, it’s just that…” He looked like he was struggling with some sort of internal dilemma. Or maybe he had indigestion. “Well, um, you’re not gonna be able to make a very good soup with this stuff.”

Quinns blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve only got chicken breast meat: you should really have a whole carcass if you want to get a flavorful broth. You need the bones and stuff. And these beans should really be soaked overnight before you cook them. You’d do better with rice or pasta as a starch if you’re planning to make and serve the soup right away. You’ve got some good veggies, but if you put them all in at the same time you’re either gonna end up with half of them undercooked or half of them cooked into oblivion.”

For a few moments Quinns just stood there, stunned, but then they froze up for a different reason.

“Uh… Quinns?”

Damn it, this always happened. They couldn’t move or speak, they just had to wait until—

“Etchoo!”

“Oh no! I’m sorry! I got too close!” Oliver finally backed off to the other side of the kitchen with a guilty look. His tanned skin gained an embarrassed flush.

“Whatever. -snf- It’s fine… I, uh, I didn’t know you knew how to cook.”

“Oh, yeah. I have a bunch of younger brothers and sisters, and both my parents work a lot, so I often cooked for everybody. Soup is a great way to feed a crowd: it’s warm and comforting, and you can really stretch it with the right ingredients. And whenever somebody got sick, I always made ‘em chicken soup.”

Quinns frowned. Oliver was a little naive, impulsive, clumsy, dense, and irresponsible…  but he wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, Oliver was quite possibly the kindest person Quinns knew in the Knights. For all of his faults, he was also loyal and surprisingly discreet, a fact that Quinns had recently discovered after Oliver had walked in on them in the shower.

“Hey, Ollie… Can I tell you something?”

* * *

It wasn’t long after Oraion finished speaking with Quinns that Noelle stirred. In all she'd been unconscious for perhaps a couple of minutes, but to the demon it felt like centuries may well have passed.

“Oh no… I fainted didn’t I?”

Oraion sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his as he softly brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Yes. I came upstairs and found you lying on the floor of the bath.”

She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I must have worried you.”

“It did give me a bit of a fright, yes.”

“I-I’m not sure what happened. I was just running some hot water to wash up, but then I, um, started to feel dizzy. Maybe- Maybe it was the steam?”

Trying to hide it, even now? Oraion shook his head with a little sigh before looking Noelle in the eye. “Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?”

She gave a guilty start and looked away, her voice going quiet.

“I… I didn’t want you to worry even more than you already have… but I suppose it’s too late for that. I’m sorry.”

“Mistress…” Oraion leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Taking care of you is never a bother for me, all right?”

“A-all right…”

When he leaned back, it was difficult to tell if the red in her face was from blushing or fever. A slight smirk graced his lips, then he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. A cup with water appeared on the bedside table.

“Here. Quinns said you might be dehydrated, so you should drink some water now that you’re awake.”

She took the cup from his hand and propped herself up enough to take a few sips. “Oh, thank you… Wait, Quinns is here?”

“Ah, no, not yet. But they’ll be on their way soon.”

“Then… how did you talk to them already?”

“Oh, I spoke to them telepathically. When you collapsed, I…” He looked away and swallowed something harsh in his throat. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t understand what was happening. I don’t know how to care for a sick human. I-I didn’t even realize you were sick until that point. I’m sorry, I should have asked you to explain what was wrong, but after last night… I thought it best not to press you.” He took another shaky breath and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I knew that I needed help, and Quinns was the only person I could think of, so I reached out to them through their mind. Fortunately they were close enough for me to reach.”

“Telepathy… You can do that?”

He looked back at his Mistress—even in her sickbed, her eyes were sparkling with interest at the prospect of learning something new. Another smile tugged his lips, one that held more warmth than he’d felt all day.

“Not easily and not for long. Not as I am now, anyway. It takes a lot of energy to maintain, especially in the Mortal Realm.”

“Why is that?”

“Mm, because there’s less ambient mana around, I think. In the Demon Realm, damn near everything is magic to one degree or another. So if you need power, you simply snatch it out of the air or the ground or what have you and shape it to your will. Here, there is far less of that energy around, so I need to rely mostly on my own reserves and whatever I can find to supplement that. Of course, my power is not insignificant, so it is sufficient for most workings, but truthfully the lack of mana within the Mortal Realm puts me at a fraction of my power, even without this damned collar.”

“Can you teach me how to use telepathy?”

“Heh. Maybe.” He took the cup of water from her and picked up the tea he had brought up earlier. “How about this: if you’re a good girl and drink your tea, I’ll start teaching you about it.”

“Ooh, I like this bargain.” She sat up further, wincing, and put a hand to her forehead. “Ugh…”

He leaned in, as though a magnet drew him to her. “What is it? Does it hurt anywhere?”

“No, no. I’m only a bit dizzy. Just, um, give me a moment.”

Oraion reached out with his free hand and touched her arm to steady her.

“Take as much time as you need. I’m right here.”

“Thanks, Oraion. I—”

She was cut off by a series of hacking coughs, crackly and phlegmy things that made him wince to hear.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry- I- uh-oh… eh-hishoo! ehshoo! Ugh, oh gosh, I’m so sorry Oraion. -sniff- I-I don’t want to get you sick. Maybe- maybe you, um, shouldn’t stay in here.”

“Oh, nonsense. Demons don’t get sick.”

She looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”

He smiled and handed her the tea. “Mistress, I am very, very old, and I have never once in my life come down with an illness. I don’t think I’m going to start now.”

Noelle looked down into the teacup, concern still writ on her face. “But… you’d never had allergies before either. How do we know for certain that you can’t, um, can’t get s-sick now too? eh-hishiih!”

Her sneezes made her hair fall forward again, so Oraion reached out and tucked it behind her ear once more. “I think you’re worrying too much, my dear Mistress, though I appreciate your concern. I will be fine, I promise.”

“Okay…” Noelle sighed and took a sip of the tea, then made a face. “Oh, it’s so bitter!”

“Right, sorry,” Oraion chuckled, “I ought to have warned you first. This blend is a little more medicinal, I’m afraid. I may not know much about human illnesses, but I do know some herbs that fight inflammation and have astringent properties, so I thought that might help. The only thing is that they are rather bitter.”

“Blech, what is in it?”

“Well, the base is black tea, then I added witch hazel, turmeric, yarrow, and, uh, lavender.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I must have sneezed a dozen times while making it, I’ll have you know.”

Noelle’s cheeks reddened considerably as she lifted the cup to her lips like she was hiding behind it. “Oh, I, um… thank you.”

Gods, she was adorable when she blushed. Oraion leaned in towards her with a smirk.

“Bet you’re sad you missed that, eh?”

Her cheeks grew even redder. “Um, m-maybe.”

“Heh. Well, next time you’ll just have to come watch me.” He gave her another quick kiss on the forehead before sitting back up. “The black tea already has a bit of bitterness, and the witch hazel and yarrow are both bitter herbs as well. Don’t force yourself to finish it if you don’t want to.”

“But I have to! I want you to teach me about telepathy!”

Oraion barked a laugh. “I only said you had to drink it, I never said you had to finish it.”

“Oh… um, I still want to, though. You made it for me, so…” Suddenly she waved a hand in front of her face. “Uh, s-sorry, I need to- nx’kishiu! Ugh, ow…”

Concern drew his brows together. “That sounded like it hurt.”

Noelle nodded with a hand on her throat. “My throat is getting sore. Ugh, that’s always the thing I hate most about being sick.”

“Hmm. I’ll see if I can figure out a remedy that might help.”

“Thank you.” Noelle pulled the blankets closer around herself with a shiver. “My, it’s chilly, isn’t it?”

“Er, I honestly find it quite pleasant. Is this why you call it a ‘cold’? Because it makes you feel cold?”

Noelle laughed. “Ah, no, you don’t always feel cold when you have a cold. Sometimes it’s unbearably hot. Right now, though, I’m freezing…” She looked down shyly as her cheeks got red again. “Um… do you think… you could hold me?”

With a gentle smile Oraion took the teacup from her shaking hands and placed it on the bedside table, then he climbed into the bed behind her and pulled her in close. Her body still felt so warm, poor thing. She snuggled into him, her back spasming against his chest with more wet coughs followed by another painful-sounding sneeze. He rubbed her shoulder as she whimpered from the abuse to her raw throat.

Even so, before long she had fallen asleep. Being ill must be awfully tiring, Oraion surmised. Her slumber seemed more restful now, at least. The demon carefully slipped out of the bed and headed back down to the ground level to wait for Quinns.

He was not surprised that they did not knock when they arrived. Quinns was never in the habit of doing so when they visited. What did surprise Oraion, however, was that the Knight had brought a new face with them. Behind Noelle’s slim, androgynous friend came a taller, broader fellow with tanned skin and an innocent bearing, as well as the orange-furred ears and tail of a cat. Quinns knew that Noelle wanted to keep the location of her tower a secret, so why was this unknown person, who also wore the uniform of a Knight, here in the first place?

Wary indignation smoldered in Oraion’s chest as he crossed his arms and straightened to his full height. “Who is this?”

The cat boy looked at him with wide eyes, which Oraion noted were of different colors: one gold, one greenish-blue.

“Whoa. Is that the guy?”

“Yeah. Oraion, this is a friend of mine, Oliver. Oliver, this is Oraion, the demon I told you about.”

“Wow, he is really hot…”

Oraion raised an eyebrow as Quinns’s cheeks colored.

“I didn’t say—! Ugh, whatever. Look, he’s trustworthy, okay?”

“Are you saying that to me or to him?” Oraion asked, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm.

“Both. We’re all going to have to get along right now. I know it was risky to bring someone else here, but Oliver is a good guy and he knows how to keep a secret. Most importantly, he can cook.”

Oliver’s face lit up in an excited grin. “Quinns said their witch friend is sick, so I’m gonna make soup!” He strolled up to Oraion as though they were already fast friends and held out his hand. The cat boy was only shorter than he was by a few inches. “They already told me you’re not bad guys, so it’s nice to meet you! I’m Oliver Dietrich, First-Rank Knight of the Midnight Falcon.”

Oraion looked down at the young man’s hand for several seconds before slowly reaching out to take it in his own. “You do know it’s usually your job to hunt creatures like myself, right?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not always so black and white, y’know? It’s one thing when a Devourer is terrorizing a trade route, but you’re just here trying to live your life, right? You’re not hurting anybody. Far as I’m concerned, no one back at headquarters needs to know about you guys.”

“How do you know we haven’t hurt anyone? You’ve only just met me, and you haven’t even met my Mistress.”

He beamed. “Because you’re Quinns’s friends, of course! I trust them, so I know I can trust you.”

“I see. How… refreshingly forthright.”

Despite his mistrust of the newcomer, Oraion felt a twinge of guilt. Would the young Knight still think the same if he knew what Oraion had done to those men from the village only the previous night? Even if they deserved it…

“Oh hey, you have a tail too! All right, welcome to the Tail Club! Man, yours is way bigger than mine.”

Quinns pinched the bridge of their nose, and Oraion heard them mutter. “Oh my gods…” They then raised their voice to full volume. “Okay, I think that’s enough with the pleasantries. Where’s Noelle? Did she wake up?”

“She did, fortunately. Now she's resting in her room.”

They nodded and lifted a basket they carried. “I brought some medicine, so I’ll go ahead and take that up to her.”

Oraion stepped in front of them and held out a hand. “Allow me. You can show our new friend here to the kitchen.”

“Uh, why don’t you show him the kitchen? You live here, you know where everything is.”

Oraion’s eyebrow twitched. “Oh, it’s not very difficult to figure out. Besides, I hardly touch the cooking equipment, so I can’t say I really know my way around.”

A scowl crossed Quinns’s face. “Yeah, well, I know more about administering medicine than you, since you outright admitted that you don’t know how to care for sick people, so I should be the one to take it to her.”

Oraion took a step closer to them. “You know, it occurs to me that Noelle had only just fallen asleep when I left the room. We should probably let her rest. So, why don’t you just tell me how to use the medicine and leave it with me, and I’ll make sure she gets it when she wakes up.”

Quinns stepped closer in turn. “Now listen: Oliver and I came all this way to—” They cut off suddenly mid-sentence and looked around the room with an expression of mild but increasing alarm. “Uh… Where’s Oliver?”

* * *

Elegant music swept through a pillared hall lit by glimmering crystal chandeliers. Dancers in splendid finery spun and twirled in time with the tune. Usually Noelle would feel out of place at such a lavish event, but now she was dressed in an exquisite gown of blush pink, the full skirt trailing behind her in a train embroidered with hundreds of flowers. The trailing sleeves hung off her bare shoulders, and, with the plunging neckline, created the perfect canvas for showing off her beautiful necklace of sparkling diamonds. Her hair was done up in perfect ringlets instead of her usual messy curls, set with a glittering hairpiece. She felt just like a princess, and lo: there, on the balcony that overlooked the dance floor, stood the Prince.

He gazed out over the hall of dancers with crimson eyes, his blood red hair pulled back in a high ponytail that trailed past his shoulders. He was just as she imagined him, dressed in a fine coat of burgundy and gold over a lovely silk shirt and vest in ivory. As though drawn by some unknown force, his alluring eyes turned to her, locking with her own, and widened in amazement at her beauty. His full lips turned up in a radiant smile, and he extended his hand, beckoning her to come to him.

Elation filled her breast as she lifted her skirt and crossed the hall of dancers, still spinning and twirling like so many clockwork dolls. She began to ascend the stairs to the balcony where the Prince awaited her, when her path was abruptly blocked by a large, orange cat. It regarded her with strange eyes of different colors, one a sort of teal and the other yellow, as it lashed its fluffy tail at her. The motion snared her attention. That tail looked awfully soft and fluffy…

She reached out and touched the cat’s tail, running her fingers through its fur, which to her delight was just as soft as she’d hoped. There was something she was supposed to be doing, wasn’t there? The cat was so soft and warm, though.

“Um, it’s nice to meet you and all, but could you let go of my tail?”

“Huh?”

Did the cat just talk to her?

“I-it’s just that it’s kind of, uh, sensitive…?”

Noelle blinked her sleep-gummed eyes as the vision of the ballroom faded away, to be replaced by the far more ordinary sight of her bedroom, bathed in the sunlight of early afternoon. What was not ordinary, however, was the strange young man in Knight attire standing next to her bed with a bright red blush on his cheeks. Indeed, he did have cat ears and a fluffy, orange tail attached to him as well, the latter of which was currently clutched in her hand.

She shrieked and dropped the man’s tail before crawling as far back as she could in the bed without falling on the floor.

“Wh-who are you?! Wh-what– What are you doing in my bedroom?!”

“Oliver!”

Quinns came bursting into the room with Oraion fast at their heels. The demon grabbed the cat-eared man by the shoulder and wrenched him away from the side of Noelle’s bed with a snarl before placing himself between them. He even went so far as to spread his wings.

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing, coming in here?”

“I-I’m sorry! I just- I wanted to- to check on her! That’s all, I swear!”

“Damn it, Ollie! Why did you go off on your own?” Quinns stepped in front of him, Oliver apparently, and guided him back another step a bit more gently than Oraion had. Their voice, though quieter, was no less irate, however.  “I took a big risk bringing you here, and I vouched for you. Do you know how this makes me look?”

“I said I’m sorry! I-I promise I wasn’t gonna do anything bad! I was just…” He sighed. “I was really, really curious. I’ve never met a witch before, and… Well, then you two started arguing about who was gonna come up with the medicine, and I figured, y’know, somebody should go check on her. Besides, I… I didn’t wanna lose my chance.”

Quinns made an exasperated sound. “Lose your chance? What are you– Wait, do you mean to meet Noelle? Why would that even happen?”

“I-I don’t know… If you didn’t get to bring the medicine up, I guess I thought… maybe I wouldn’t get to come up either.” He looked down at the floor and scuffed it with the toe of his boot, cat ears drooping. “I’m so, so sorry. I know it was a stupid thing to do.”

“You certainly have the right of it there, Cat Boy,” Oraion snapped as his wings folded and vanished once more, “Now get out, before I throw you out.”

Quinns held up a hand. “All right, calm down. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Oh, really? And how do you know he isn’t simply playing dumb? How do you know he hasn’t been planning all along to sneak up here for the chance to take out a witch?”

Oliver looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. Noelle recalled his appearance when she had first woken up, with his blushing face and the way he had politely asked her to let go of his tail.

“It’s all right, Oraion. I don’t think he was going to hurt me.”

Her Servant turned to her with an incredulous look.

“You can’t be serious. You’re all right with a man barging into your bedroom like that?”

“Well, n-no, but he apologized, and, um, I believe he’s sincere. I would appreciate it, though, if someone could explain to me what he’s doing here.”

“I brought him, Noelle.” Quinns took a step towards her with an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry—I know you don’t want people to know where you live, but I swear, all of this nonsense aside, Oliver really is a good guy. He’s just… a little naive and impulsive sometimes. I brought him along because, um, I really wanted to bring you some soup, but… I-I don’t know how to make it, and… he does.”

With all of them crowded in her bedroom, and between Quinns looking chagrined, Oraion’s incensed protectiveness, and Oliver’s crestfallen, drooping cat ears and tail, Noelle couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Of course that just led her to start coughing again.

“Oh, right, the medicine.” Quinns shoved the basket they were holding into Oliver’s arms. “Take this down to the ground floor and into the kitchen, okay? And wait for me there—don’t wander off again, please.”

The other Knight nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you down there. And, um, I’m sorry again, Miss Noelle. It was nice to meet you.”

“Er, likewise?” She gave him a little wave as Oliver left the room.

Quinns reached into their belt pouch and produced a little bundle wrapped in cloth, which they then handed to Oraion. The demon looked at the bundle in his hands as though he was not expecting to receive it.

“Here: these are the medicines. They were prepared by our own healers in the Knights, so they should be pretty effective. Go ahead and open it, and I’ll explain what each one is.”

“Ah. Right…”

As Oraion unwound the tie that held the wrappings in place, Quinns turned to Noelle.

“Noelle, you’ll probably want to listen to this too…” They squinted. “What happened to your lip?”

“Huh? Oh…” Her hand went to the split on her lip, which had scabbed over but was still rather swollen. “Um, I must have hurt it when I fell earlier.”

“Huh. I see…” They did not seem convinced, but they didn’t press the issue, to Noelle’s relief. They didn't need to know about the men who attacked her.

They instructed Oraion and Noelle on when and how each medicine was to be administered. There was a pill for fever that should be taken twice a day, morning and night; a tincture that would speed the healing process that could only be taken once per day or else it could cause unpleasant side effects as the body tried to heal itself too rapidly (the worst of which, Quinns explained with their usual grim decorum, was coughing up blood because your body produced too much). Lastly, there was an oil that could be applied to the neck and chest, which contained a number of pungent-smelling botanicals that worked to clear a stuffy head. One whiff immediately set Oraion sneezing, of course.

Once they had finished going over the medicines and ensured Noelle got her first doses, Quinns and Oraion both left her room and headed back down towards the first floor to meet up with Oliver.

“So…” Quinns spoke up from behind Oraion as they passed the library. “Do you want to tell me what happened to Noelle’s lip?”

Oraion’s hands briefly formed fists at his sides, the knuckles popping.

“Some loathsome bullies in town happened to her.”

Quinns voice rose in alarm. “What?”

Oraion sighed. “She went to town on her own. I know I should have accompanied her, but… I had something I needed to take care of here. When she returned, it was clear she’d been beaten, and she confirmed as much.”

“Did she say who it was? What they looked like?”

“No, but I…”

A moment of tense silence passed before Quinns spoke, their voice already turning accusatory. “You what?”

“I found them later.”

Quinns grabbed Oraion by the arm, stopping him.

“What do you mean you ‘found them’? What did you do?”

Oraion lifted his chin. “I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you’re asking. But I did ensure they would regret their actions.”

Quinns pressed their lips together and took a deep breath. “Look: I understand, and I don’t necessarily disagree with what you did, but please tell me that you did it in your human form and not looking like, well, a demon.”

Oraion wrenched his arm away. “I felt the message would be more effective if I used my true form. “

“Shit… Oraion, you…” They sighed. “I really, really hope that doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass, man. I truly do, because if the Inquisition gets wind of a demon around here, then there won’t be anything I, or anyone else, can do to stop them from coming looking for you.”

Oraion scoffed. “I think I can handle a few humans coming after us. Besides, you know how well-hidden this place is. They’ll be lucky to even find us here.”

“Yeah… Well. Let’s hope that’s true.”

They shook their head once and pushed past him on the stairs. With great effort, Oraion managed not to roll his eyes as he followed them down. Quinns worried overmuch at the best of times, and this was no exception. No mortal could stand against a Demon Lord. Let anyone try to harm his mistress again; they would be shown the error of their ways with swift and terrible judgment.

Once the soup had been prepared, Quinns had the good sense to escort themself and Oliver out, to the latter’s obvious disappointment. He was calling back to Oraion even as Quinns was pushing him out the door.

“Um, it was really nice to meet you! Thanks for having me over! A-and I really hope Miss Noelle feels better soon!”

The door closed behind them both with a heavy thud, and Oraion shook his head. Something was not right with that boy.

When he arrived back upstairs with a steaming bowl of soup, he found Noelle nodding off while sitting up in bed. Her head popped up with a start when she heard him enter, and Oraion couldn’t help but chuckle. She was too cute, with her flushed cheeks and slow, sleepy blinking.

“Oh, um, is that the soup?”

“It is.” Oraion placed the bowl down on the bedside table and flashed Noelle a smirk. “Shall I feed it to you?”

The deepening of her blush drew his smirk into a grin as she frantically waved her hands in front of her.

“Ah, n-no! No, no, no! That’s- that’s quite all right. I can, um, feed myself. Thank you.”

“Heh. As you wish.”

She must have been hungry, for though she started eating the soup slowly, she soon made short work of the rest. Oraion sat on the edge of the bed and watched her silently, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand. He must make time to study mortal diseases. Humans were such fragile creatures. This time it was a minor ailment, but what if one day she contracted a more serious affliction?

She finally noticed him looking and gave an awkward laugh.

“What, do I have something on my face?”

“No. I’m simply admiring how lovely you are.”

“Oh, stop it. I’m certain I look awful.”

“Never. You’re always lovely to me.”

She hid her face behind her hands with a sound that was part groan, part giggle.

“Stop! You’re making me blush!”

“I know. It’s delightful.”

“Ugh, you!”

Noelle gave him a little shove with another peal of laughter, which quickly turned into a fit of coughing. Oraion’s smug grin faltered, and he reached out to rub her back with an anxious touch.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No- no, I- hh’kchiuh! htshhiuh! Ooh… I-I think I just need to rest.”

“Then… allow me to keep you company, at least.”

He climbed into bed next to her, enfolding her in his embrace and holding her tight against his chest. He buried his face in her hair and basked in her scent, in her closeness. Noelle Violette. His Mistress. He cared about her. He could admit that much. To himself, anyway. But whether that feeling was a result of their contract or genuine affection… He wasn’t certain, and he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the woman in his arms made him happy, and he wanted to do everything in his power to do the same for her.

If that was love, well… perhaps that wouldn’t be so terrible, after all.

#accidental mistress #oraion the allergic incubus #noelle the awkward witch #knight errant quinns #cat boy ollie #snzblr #snz #snz kink #snz ocs #sneeze kink #snzfic #sickfic #snzfucker #snezblr

[primevein]

Prime of His Youth: Book I: Forging His Own Path: Ch02: Foreign Body

Arcee sat down in medlab. "I... need to you keep this..."

Ratchet scoffed and grumbled. "I am offended. I am your physician. The only reason I would have to give any disclosure is if it affects your combat effectiveness. But you know that, which means?.." he said, and paused, and grumbled, and waved for her to continue.

"I feel like my mesh is crawling." Arcee tepidly stated.

Racthet nodded his head, "A natural reflex. Designed to alert you to pests, like scraplets and such." Arcee looked around nervously, but not fearfully. "Assuming you don't have anything more invasive, the most likely explaination is a new material on your mesh. Have you been encountering any unfamiliar material?" he asked, and Arcee looked around even more nervously. "If you cannot be open with me, I'm afraid my ability to aid will be..."

"It was Jack." she said quickly, firmly.

Ratcher once again nodded his head, "As I had guessed. Unfortunately, I am not familiar enough with Human biology to even speculate at the effects it would have..." he said, and paused, and grumbled, "I would likely have to confir with Nurse Darby." With this, Arcee looked off into the distance without focus. "I suppose if you want a more... speculative answer. Humans use this Soap to clean themselves. I would recommend using it to clean this... new... material from your mesh. Since Soap removes oils, you should be sure to reapply oils to the affected region. Since young Jack is the cause of this, I'm sure he would be prepared to help you with it."

"And?" Arcee sarcastically asked, "And... where exactly would I get this Soap?"

With this, Ratchet paused. While he was used to her sarcasm and wit, she seemed to be genuinely worried." I am afraid I must admit that I am at the limit of what I know in this regard. Anything further would have to come from the Humans themselves. If you do not wish to get Nurse Darby involved, then..."

"Jack is my best option." Arcee said with grudging acceptance.

"I would like to congradulate you." Ratchet said firmly.

"On what?!" Arcee asked accusingly.

"I believe that such activities," Ratchet said and paused, "whatever they are, are normally performed by the most intimate of Human pairbonds."

"He's my sparkmate." she said bitingly.

"That I don't doubt." Ratchet said and paused, "I'm just providing proof that he seems to agree."

"You... almost don't sound grump..." Arcee voiced, and his eyes grew wide.

"It has been aeons since I've had a chance to witness a romance like this."

"What?" a surprised Arcee asked. "You had a sparkmate?!"

"Long before the war..." he grumbled, and then shook his head. " If the treatment does not help, we can discuss this further. For now, enjoy your relationship." Arcee made to stood up, but paused with surprised, and turned to look at him "I might be old and grumpy, and maybe a little rusted, but that doesn't mean I don't want you younglings to be happy. That's one of the reasons I'm here."

"They could use you on Cybertron." Arcee stated.

"And what about you?" Ratchet asked.

"The last thing they need is me." Arcee stated.

"One of the heroes that saved cybertron?" Ratchet asked.

"They want to worship me as a hero. Make me a statesman. I was a soldier, a good soldier, maybe a great soldier, but just the thought of trying to write the laws for an entire world, to talk, and prattle, and gladhand, and... forgive..." she said, and clutched her hand strongly. "What they need are Optimus and Bulkhead..."

* * *

Miko was in a Cybertronian exosuit inside her Apex Armour, carrying heavy girders, Bulkhead doing the same beside her.

* * * "What they need is you." Arcee accusingly said to him, as she vigorously pointed at him.

"Me?!" Ratcher dismissively scoffed, waving his right hand in front of his face, "I'm just an old field medic."

"You're one of the best doctors we know." Arcee stated.

"Sadly, I never finished medical school." Ratchet stated, "I was never allowed to even join.

"You built a Space Bridge." Arcee accusingly said.

"Land Bridge." Ratchet said dismissively. "And it seems like we were using the wrong translation, Star Bridge would be more appropriate."

"That's! - Not! - My point!"

"I'm writting up everything I've known about Land Bridges... Star Bridges..." he said, dismissively waving his hand in front of his face, "everything, really. If they have any questions, they know where to find me."

"So, what?" Arcee asked, "You're a rusted down old hermit?"

"Yes?" Ratchet asked, "And what about you?"

"I've only been a soldier." she said softly. "Now I get to try other things. Maybe I should be a house wife, get myself an apron, bake some cookies." With this, Ratchet harumphed. "Okay, maybe his..." she said, and paused.

"Yes?" Ratchet asked.

"Just some things I promised not to say around other people. Who knows, maybe oil wrestling?"

"I suppose the introduction of oil to wrestling would dynamically change the sport... but I fail to see the allure to Humans." he said, and Arcee gave him a bright smile. "Wait, is it a reproductive thing?"

Arcee shrugged, "Apparently."

"This raises a mind boggling amount of questions." Ratchet stated. "Though, I suppose they are a sexually dimorphic species. If they encountered another race that mimicked the secondary sexual characteristics..." he trailed off into muttering and turned back to his computer.

#transformers #prime #arcee #ratchet #darcee #prime of his youth

[2winkspice]

My Destruction Only Account - 4

[ Previous ] [ Next ]

So. We've hit the Phantylia Wall. After multiple days of trial and error, I can't seem to find a way past it. It's disappointing, but it's important to look on the bright side: with the August shop reset, Hook can be bought from the shop.

I insinuated that Hook was absolutely instrumental to the account, and at first glance, maybe it's hard to see how that could be the case. Phantylia isn't weak to Fire, so how could she be any better than PhysMC?

Well, Hook was instrumental, not for fighting against Phantylia directly, but for something much more important:

Simulated Universe.

With Hook, we now had all the elements needed to smash through the Svarog wall on World 4 with ease. And even in SU, Kafka's world 5 fight is a breeze thanks to the Abundance path unlocking in the same world.

Access to ornaments were very important, because now the builds could be completed. Not only that, but SU has a wonderful, wonderful quirk: while the drop rates for Gold relics are tied to your EQ, Gold ornaments for SU5 and SU6 are *not* EQ locked.

Thanks to Hook, we now had access to the best DPS Ornaments in the game--Inert Salsotto--at 5* rarity, no less! Coupled with the double Ornament Drop Event, it felt like Serendipity, true poetry. Not only that, but being able to clear SU thanks to Hook got us access to the Herta Shop Destruction LC, Fall of an Aeon.

Now, the stage was set.

Almost.

Y'see, if shiny yellow artifacts were all that was needed, it wouldn't be much of a challenge, would it? No, there's more to this.

Although we had the Gold relics, this didn't solve the major problem, which was Jing Yuan. These Gold ornaments helped my characters, but not him.

So, for Jing Yuan, we needed to call upon the great reagents of old: consumables.

There is a very cheap and easy to make consumable that gives you +25% DEF. I also considered getting bonus HP, but because Phantylia cuts your Max HP as part of the fight, I decided DEF would be better.

The question was what offensive consumable to use.

I initially went with Lightning Paste to boost Jing Yuan's and Arlan's attacks, but they kept falling short. After investigating, I found this:

This is a massive 12% CR boosting consumable, locked behind Serval's companion quest, which is itself locked behind a random side quest. I blazed through it without hesitation. This Crit boosting item would elevate not only Jing Yuan and Arlan, but also MC and Blade.

At this point I had been at this for over a week straight. Nothing compared to the almost-month of Cocolia, but in that case I was simply farming, using my Power and waiting. No progress could be made, so I just relaxed and let time pass me by, logging on for my Jade and nothing else.

This, though, this was active, almost daily, running face first into a brick wall level stuff. No joke, I had a friend tell me it would be better to give up than keep trying. It came from a place of love, I think (hope).

Now, to activate inert Salsotto's effect, you need 50% CR or higher. Blade was prioritized for this, as he was easily the best Damage dealer.

At the end of the farming, this is the best I could do: 4pc his set, 3* CR body, 2pc Salsotto. With the two stacks from his set he sat at around 52% CR. Just enough.

Unfortunately, PhysMC didn't have a full Salsotto set, but he did have a full phys set, which would have to do. For some reason those orbs and ropsles weren't dropping on the right set, and Arlan...

Well...

Still, this would be good enough, for now. I felt good about these builds, and this set up. It would be close, and I was relying on at least one lucky Arlan Crit, which was only about a 27% chance between his relics and the Disposable Arm.

For the upteenth, unknowable time, we went into the domain. Even with all this preparation, it still required luck. Remember, Jing Yuan can never be targetted, or hit. I had to leave and come back to the fight time and time again to get a run where Jing Yuan avoided every attack other than her AOEs. I shuffled positions a bunch too, even though all of them technically had the same aggro and it shouldn't actually matter.

After days and hours, it happened.

Finally.

*Finally.*

To explain this, Phantylia will always live on 1% HP and advance her turn forward to do an AOE attack. She also has a normal attacking turn where she does an AOE attack, and she does another AOE attack immediately when she shifts phases. This means that, normally, she does 3 unavoidable AOE attacks. This will 100% kill Jing Yuan, and it is impossible for him to live through all 3.

But.

If you're able to nuke her down before she takes her normal attacking turn, she will advance forward, and her story based AOE will happen instead. Essentially, if you can kill her fast enough, in the first turn rotation, then she will only do 2--not 3--AOE attacks.

Jing Yuan cannot live through 3 AOEs.

But barely, just barely, if he isn't attacked, and *by the skin of his teeth*....

He can live through 2.

And it happened. Somehow, by some miracle, we were able to nuke her down in Rotation-0. Jing Yuan, who had not been attacked, lived through her AOEs. And finally we were greeted with this screen.

It was a long and arduous journey.

But I'm was so excited to have gotten past it all.

I was convinced that the fight would require Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae, but as it turns out, the only thing that was required was luck, a lot of consumables, and of course, Pitch Dark Hook the Great.

I'm a bit scared to see what the end of the Xianzhou Luofu arc will hold. With all the trouble getting past this hurdle caused, I'm scared the next one will be too high for me to vault.

But I'll be damned if it wasn't fun to try.

And that's the story so far of my Destruction Only Account. I'll keep working on it, of course, but there's no more content to do right now, so I'll have to wait.

[ Previous ]

#hsr destruction only #honkai star rail #hsr #when i say that seeing that ending cutscene hyped me up i mean it #i was staying up way too late and it instantly jolted me awake.

[spiritualawakeningradio]

History of Indian Spirituality: Origins of Sant Mat Series: Sant Dariya Sahib - Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcast

Sant Tulsi Sahib in Praise of His Spiritual Master: Partham Bandon Satguru Swami: "I pay homage in all humility at the feet of my Master, Whose grace has revealed the Mystery of Light and Sound."

The Sant Mat We Know Can Be Traced Back to Sant Dariya Sahib

Sant Dariya Sahib of Bihar has the distinction of being the one-and-only living Sant Mat Master contemporary with Tulsi Sahib that Tulsi mentioned in his writings. Therefore, Sant Tulsi Sahib of Hathras most likely was affiliated with and initiated by Dariya Sahib or one of Dariya's spiritual successors. Sant Tulsi Sahib of Hathras, India was born in 1763 and passed on in 1843. He would have been in his teens when Sant Dariya Sahib was still alive -- old enough to have perhaps received initiation from Dariya Sahib or one of his representatives. Sant Dariya was a towering figure occupying some of that space in history between the time of Kabir and that of Sant Tulsi Sahib of Hathras. Sant Dariya passed on when Tulsi was around seventeen years of age. Dariya Sahib appointed several Saints to be his spiritual successors: Fakkar Das, Basti Das, Sant Tika Das, and, Sant Guna Das, also contemporaries with Tulsi Sahib, who likely spent some time in Bihar. Bihar was, and remains, home-base of the Satsang of Sant Dariya Sahib.

Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcast: The Sant Mat We Know Can Be Traced Back to Sant Dariya Sahib (Origins of Sant Mat Series) - Listen, Download, Subscribe @ the Podcast Website:

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https://www.amazon.com/Spiritual-Awakening-Radio/dp/B08K561DZJ

& @ Wherever You Subscribe and Follow Podcasts (Apple, Spotify, Google, Amazon, Audible, Stitcher, PodBean, Overcast, i Heart Radio, Podcast Addict, Gaana, CastBox, etc...):

https://linktr.ee/SpiritualAwakeningRadio

Sant Dariya Sahib on the Path of Sant Mat During This Kali Yuga Age

"Sat Purush is the living Lord, and His own son serves as the ladder. That ladder is continued through me, says Dariya. Fakkar Das, Basti Das, and Guna Das are the ladders proceeding from me. Whomsoever they appoint as their successors would also be known as ladders. Thus will my line of succession continue... Those souls who remain in obedience to these successors, shall cross the Ocean of the world.

"How long will this line of succession continue? Kindly relate it to us in your own words, asks Fakkar Das. 'Listen mindfully, 0 Fakkar Das, I explain this to you, says Dariya:

"'As long as the discipline of the Sound Current

is preserved unadulterated,

The line of succession will truly continue.

But when it is mixed with outer rituals

and display of external garbs,

My Sound Current will part company.

My Divine essence will depart,

And the souls will go into the mouth of Kal.

I shall then come to this world,

And shall proclaim the teaching

of the Sound Current again.

Proclaiming the teaching,

I shall found the line of succession [again].

And emancipating the souls,

I shall take them to my Abode.

For aeons I have been coming,

And imparting the teaching

of the true Sound Current.'"

-- Hymn of Sant Dariya Sahib of Bihar

In Divine Love, Light, and Sound, At the Feet of the Masters,

James Bean

Sant Mat Satsang Podcasts

Spiritual Awakening Radio

https://www.SpiritualAwakeningRadio.com

#SpiritualAwakeningRadio #Podcasts #SantMatSatsangPodcasts #SantMatRadhasoami #Santmat #Sant_Mat #Radhasoami #Radha_Soami #RadhaSoamiJi #Radhaswami #ScienceoftheSoul #ScienceofSpirituality #PathoftheMasters #SuratShabdYoga #InnerLightandSound #Meditation #Spirituality #Mystics #Religion #Mysticism #Gnostic #Gnosticism #India #History #Bhakti #Satsang #SantTulsiSahib #TulsiHathrasi #Hathras #Bihar #SantDariyaSahib #AnuragSagar #Kabir #SantDharamDas #SoundCurrent #OriginsofSantMat #JamesBean

#history #india #spirituality #religion #sant mat #radhasoami #mystics of the east #bhakti #satsang #spiritual awakening radio #sant mat satsang podcasts #james bean #dariya sahib #tulsi sahib #anurag sagar #meditation #surat shabd yoga #tumblr blog #wordpress

[charlottedabookworm]

#30 - Sojourn

feat Yrys

wow. it's over. where's the month gone? anyway day 30 is here and with this fill I've broken 20000 words! I've also nicked @starofthemourning's lahabrea again for this so definitely go and check out Hem's fill for today!

definite endwalker spoilers and there are probably pandaemonium spoilers in there as well

“Don’t go.”

“Pandion…”

“Please,” he whispers and his voice cracks on the word. His eyes burn and his hands shake and- “Please, don’t go.” I remember you now, he wants to say. I want to scream at you, I want to punch you in that face and I- “Don’t leave me again.”

His father’s eyes - darker than he can remember them being, with a fire to them that Yrys cannot remember seeing since before his mother died - slide closed. He stiffens like he’s stabbed him. Again.

Something that, if he had to name it, looks awfully alike to sheer desolation flickers across his face.

He steps forward before he thinks about it, reaching for his father. “Dad,” he begs through the lump in his throat and he feels like a small child again, curled up at his father’s knee. Sat on his desk. 

Crying out for his dad in the dark of the night, when the fear became too much. When he needed hope-

“I’m sorry. I love you, dad, and I’m sorry, please-”

A hand curls around his, clawed and cold and shimmering with coallesing aether, and pulls him close. “Shhhh.” His father wraps a hand around his back, pulling him close and holding him tight and Yrys clings. “I know, Pandion. I know.”

“You died and I didn’t-” He’d been so busy hating Lahabrea that he hadn’t- He’s just watched- “I let you die.”

“You did, indeed,” his father murmurs in that flat way of his, ever the Speaker.

Yrys flinches and moves to pull away but his father pulls him closer.

“You are my son; I forgive you,” is whispered into the crown of his head. “And after all that I did to you… I do not blame you for it, either.”

He slumps, boneless, into his father’s hold. Into the hand cradling the back of his head like he’s a babe again, safe in his parents arms. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says into flame-scented robes. “You were tempered and just trying to fix-”

“You know better, Pandion,” his father says and he pulls back, just enough to stare at him with steady sane eyes. “I was your first teacher, for you and for Erichthonios both, and you know well enough why it is called a Sundering.”

“I know.” Of course he knows. He’s known the truth of it since he’d first heard an ascian say the term unsundered. He and Erich had learnt aetheric theory at Lahabrea’s knee, long before Azem and Pandaemonium and Zodiark. Even if Hades had succeeded, even if they had completed the rejoinings and restored their Star and their people… 

“The scars have long since set,” he whispers, an echo of words spoken to him and his brother an aeon ago. 

The people brought back would not be the people who were lost.

His father smiles, small and sad and full of so much pride it makes his chest ache. “You remember, good.”

Yrys closes his eyes. The ache in his chest builds and builds until it matches the burning in his eyes and: “I only hated you because I love you.” The words fly out of him, running together in a desperate attempt to make his father understand. To make sure he knows that Yrys loves him, has always loved him, even as he hated him-

Even as he’d died.

He needs his father to know that, now at least, because he’d died thinking both of his children hated him and- and Yrys had. Yrys does, sometimes. But he loves him, too. 

“I love you as well,” his father says, low and gentle. Careful.

After all these years, he still knows what that tone means. “You can’t stay, can you?”

Strong arms tighten around him and then let go. His father steps back, a silent shake of his head his only answer.

Don’t go, he wants to beg again. He wants to pull his father back. He wants him to stay. He wants-

He knows better. A lifetime as Lahabrea’s heir, at the Bureau of the Architect, as Azem… Yrys knows better. His father is dead, nothing but a thin shell of aether keeping him present, he cannot stay. 

He still wants to beg him to. 

“I love you,” he chokes out instead, tears trailing down his cheeks like brands of fire. Arms wrap around his waist, grounding and comforting, and Yrys leans back into Dae as he stares at the aether shimmering into nonexistence about his father. “Tell Erich I love him?”

“He knows, Pandion, just as I do,” Hephaistos says, cocking his head as he watches them steadily and: “I am proud of you, Yrys.”

Yrys gapes. He knows his father was proud of him, even when Pandion had wished he wouldn’t have been, but to hear him say it…

He scrambles for words, for something, and-

His father fades away.

He bites down on his tongue until it bleeds, until copper blood floods his mouth, until he can swallow it back and pretend he isn’t swallowing back sobs.

“Yrys… I’m sorry but- we have to-”

“I know,” he whispers, staring for another moment at where his father had been. His chest aches like he’s been holding his breath, like he’s been lying under a mountain of rubble, and he breathes with it.

Then, he shoves it all away.

Meteion awaits.

#my fic #ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #yrys setlas

[sumiretranslations]

Niigata〜！ Tashiro Sumire (23.06.24)

Yaposhumi

I'm Tashiro Sumire💜

Today we had a release event in Niigata prefecture 🌾

We got our Niigata Revenge、which I'm super duper happy about!!😭💞

Going to Niigata prefecture and doing a release event

Today has been such a happy day ૮ . ̫ . ა❤︎

We ate curry for lunch🍛

It was delicious〜💛

We'll do our best so that we can visit Niigata prefecture again!!💪🏻🍵

Today we wore our YoriDori ME DREAM costumes 🍑

Tomorrow in Chiba prefecture at Aeon Mall Makuhari Shintoshin

We have a release event🌟

I'm happy that we get to do another release event tomorrow!! Please be sure to come and see us♡

TV Anime 『Shadow Verse F』

I'll be appearing on 7/8（Sat）in Episode 51!!✨

In the role of Sumire!!😭💜

I was really nervous for my first After Recording、but it was a really motivating experience。

I'm so happy that I could experience voice acting、

It's left a lasting impression on me。

Footage of our After Recordings has been broadcast on 「Hello Dream。」、so please watch it✨

(T/N News and information has not been translated)

Today I played Animal Crossing in my free time！！！

Lots of the members brought their DS or other game consoles

We played Tomodachi Life and Animal Crossing、it was really fun 🎶🎶🎶

I think I'll get obsessed with AC。🌳😺

For all of your likes・comments

Thank you very much❤︎

Well then！

This has been Tashiro Sumire〜

#japanese idol #japanese idol group #hello project #hello project translations #idol blog #japan #japanese language #learn japanese #ocha norma #ocha norma members #sumire tashiro #tashiro sumire #Sumire #Sumire translations #ocha norma blog #ocha norma blog translations #ocha norma translations #hello project videos #hello project member #hello project new members #hello project members #YoriDori ME DREAM #Y2k #y2k fashion #blog translations #hello project blog #Japanese #Idol #hello project idol #Idol blog translations

[unlividoxwrites]

Short story:

A Mother’s Love by @unlividoxwrites

Prompt: Spring

My 4 things: dragonflies near a pond, newly blooming flowers, hedgehogs, warm breeze

My 5 words: verdurous, balmy, blossoming, picturesque, frondescence

When Persephone first left home to live with her lover Hades in the underworld her mother, Demeter, was utterly heartbroken. Having long since separated from her own husband, Persephone was the only light in her otherwise dull world. She made the longer days more bearable and the shorter ones more fun. She’d been ever so young once, entranced with any and every beauty the earth around her had to offer and Demeter had revelled in her fresh outlook on life. The days had all but been bright and full of joy up until the point Demeter had to give her daughter away.

Then came the first winter; Harsh, unrelenting and unendurable. Demeter’s shattered heart poured all its lost love and desolation until the earth itself was as empty and barren as her heart. The first—as all firsts are—was a long and bleak one. She’d cried torrentially, her tantrums turned to hurricanes and the drought that followed was one of despondency.

After what felt like aeons of waiting for her beloved daughter to return, finally Persephone was set free—her mother’s words, not hers, just so we’re clear—and with her came frondescence.

By the time she’d reached the surface, new shoots were blossoming bouquets of blooms and the once-turned wasteland of earth was now filled with verdurous trees, shivering with anticipation as Persephone crawled out of the underworld. The moment her feet touched the ground Demeter was there to greet her with balmy smiles and a breeze of motherly warmth. She took her daughter by the hand and entreated her to tell her how cruel Hades had been to her over the winter months, but Persephone only laughed and said, “Mother, Hades has shown me more kindness in the last few months than any man, or God has ever.”

Not wanting to waste even a second of their precious time together, Demeter didn’t argue, though she may have wanted to. There’s something to be said about the presumptions those put on perceived outcasts, and how Persephone herself had been treated no better than Hades by the other Gods, but that’s a story for another time.

For the time being, Demeter led Persephone to a secluded grove she’d created specifically for the two of them. A family of hedgehogs scuttled into the bushes, snuffling around the underbrush and emitting little snorts as they went. Bringing Persephone to the edge of a pond, they sat and soaked up each other’s company as the sun’s warming rays seeped into their skin. Dragonflies danced and darted over the water’s surface, lackadaisical and serene.

Later, the time would come for Persephone to make her way back to the underworld and with it would come shrivelling Autumns and severe Winter’s. But for now they basked, content to spend what time they had together, in a scene so picturesque and idyllic, that Demeter would use the memory to sustain her until she saw her baby again.

#unlividox writing prompts #writing prompt #writing #spring writing prompts #Greek mythology #original short story #unlividoxwrites #greek myth retellings #persephades