#do i need to tag it more as well *vague hand gesture*?

[selfox]

Did I say that my humor is immaculate?

I had this beautiful ref and I thought that Shego would look so pretty like that. And then I though "and how would Drakken react?"... 1 gif came to my mind

#wheeeze #drakgo #kim possible #cyborg's stuff #shego #dr drakken #immature humor #do i need to tag it more as well *vague hand gesture*? #suggestive #in case

[sixosix]

can i go where you go? | kaedehara kazuha

warnings 2.2k words, lots of kissing… like srsly, pure fluff, kazuha is a cutie, not a slick cutie though, friends to lovers!!

or, three times Kazuha keeps kissing you on ‘accident’.

The first time Kazuha kissed you, it was on Beidou’s ship.

You're only partially awake, your eyelids heavy, and you move with a slow, languid pace as Kazuha escorts you towards The Alcor. The wind hums as it caresses the sails, accompanied by the lively shouts and cheers of the crew on board.

“So early,” you mutter, sighing. “Too early. Sun isn’t even out yet.”

“It will be, soon,” Kazuha says, smiling at you in the same way that he always does. Tender, as comforting as the ocean pooling on your feet as you walk by the shore. “You mentioned you wanted to meet the Captain, didn’t you? Tilt your head a little.” Although he says it, his finger comes to your chin and gently directs your gaze himself.

He’s gesturing to the woman standing at the quarterdeck, her hands resting on her hips and her shoulders remarkably broad. She turns as if hearing Kazuha’s soft voice amidst the boisterous chatter. Your jaw goes slack in awe, excitement washing away the last traces of fatigue tugging your bones as everything you’ve heard about Captain Beidou from Kazuha comes rushing back.

Kazuha steadies you with a hand on the small of your back as your knees falter when climbing the ship.

“Captain Beidou!” You bow deeply, lowering your head to your waist, arms outstretched to offer her the sake and the sakura mochi you made the night before—which cost you sleep, but it is worth more than anything when you get to gift the woman who took care of your best friend when you couldn’t. “Thank you so much for letting me tag along. Please take this.”

Kazuha and Beidou glance at each other in surprise.

Kazuha starts, “You didn’t have—”

“No,” you say, firm. “This is the least I can do. Don’t try, Kazuha.”

Kazuha’s expression eases to a smile. “Alright.”

“I like this one, Kazuha,” Beidou says, ruffling your hair, and leaving stray strands on your head. She grins at you, all wide and wild. “Where’s he been hiding ya, huh, kid?”

“Somewhere in Inazuma.”

She laughs; it sounds like the roaring waves of the ocean. “Thank you. I’ll share it with my crew.” She turns, looking at you over her shoulder. You feel the hair on your arms rise to attention. “Let me know if you need anything, but Kazuha probably will see to it faster than any of us could.”

You’re not exactly sure what she means, though you can pick up on the knowing smirk she throws at your best friend.

“Men, to your posts!” she orders. Kazuha takes it as a cue to take your hand and lead you somewhere far more secluded.

No one’s watching; at least, not to your knowledge. The crew knows well enough they have their own business to attend to, and that no one should be interrupting Kaedehara Kazuha when catching up with his best friend since childhood, you.

Kazuha is a wanderer first and foremost. He does not like to be tied down to one place—he’d itch and wander off if you try to keep him at bay. However, there is one exception; one that has him visiting his homeland whenever he can, even when he is dangerously most sought after. When the wind subsides to a gentle whisper in his ears, the waves are gentle when splashing against the ship, and the crew is fast asleep, Kazuha finds himself stealing glances in the general direction of Inazuma. He knows you’re likely sleeping soundly there, expecting him.

This is what gets him to bring home whatever he may find along the way just to give them to you. If anyone asks, Kazuha would reply with a vague: “For someone special to me, in my land of birth.” Anyone would have guessed that, though, given the assortment of flowers Kazuha never fails to bring home.

You find yourself swaying back and forth along with the ship, your mouth running miles per minute as you talk to him on and on about how you’ve never been to Liyue before and your hands are shaking from excitement—or perhaps nerves, and how is Kazuha looking so calm and why is he smiling at you weirdly?

Kazuha has that fond look in the crinkle of his eyes. “Are you certain you’re not feeling sick? Lightheaded?”

Although the heavy rocking of the ship is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, you only feel the anticipation. Thrill. You’ve seen glimpses of Liyue from the letters Kazuha sends; you’re positive nothing can compare to the real deal, and that is what has you giddy, kicking your legs against the wood.

The early morning air crept beneath your clothes and left a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You shudder; Kazuha leans against you, the warmth of his body relaxing you immediately.

The world falls completely silent as you gaze at him.

“Kazuha,” you breathe out, eyes round with wonder, “thank you for taking me with you.” Kazuha goes still as you brush a stray of hair away from your face a little shyly. “It probably doesn’t mean much because you’re always traveling, and it’s probably such a hassle to be my tour guide, but I’m—mmph.”

The rest of your words are swallowed by Kazuha’s lips, and you, undoubtedly silenced by the press of his soft lips against yours. You have your eyes wide open, frozen as you watch the sunrise from the horizon over Kazuha’s shoulder, casting him an unreal golden glow.

Kazuha quickly pulls back and looks as startled as you feel. The kiss was about half a second, and it took nearly a minute for the both of you to process what had just happened.

He frowns, though it doesn’t feel directed at you. “Sorry,” he says slowly, as though he’s just been brought back up from underwater. “That was—”

“It’s fine,” you blurt, hoping the sunrise would disguise your stunned expression. “The ship—uh, it’s swaying pretty hard. You probably lost balance or something.” However, speaking it aloud sounds wrong. Kazuha just doesn’t lose balance: he’s the most seasoned samurai you’ve met in your life.

Then again, that would leave an empty room of explanation, one of which you’d rather not set foot in.

“Yes.” The sunrise has Kazuha looking a little pink. Or should it be orange? “Allow me to fetch us a bottle of water. You might get seasick.”

“Sure,” you murmur, though it’s lost to the howl of the wind as Kazuha swiftly jumps down, his Vision glowing on his back. The sensation in your stomach doesn’t seem like seasickness.

He doesn’t talk about it, so you don’t bring it up.

The second time happens in public.

The moment you set foot in Liyue Harbor, Kazuha realizes he must reach for your wrist to prevent you from straying and getting lost. You dart from one corner to the next, exploring every stall, even stray dogs and running children.

“Liyue feels so…warm.”

It could be the orange glow of their lights, painting over the region with an unbeatable shade and atmosphere, perfectly replicating what it would be like sitting across a fireplace. Or it could be Kazuha’s hand intertwined with yours.

“Hearing that relieves me,” Kazuha admits, pulling you to the side as two men pushing crates on wheels rush past. “You are often unpredictable in what you like and dislike.”

You laugh, “Were you worried that you overhyped it? You tend to be descriptive with what you write back to me—what was it? The flavorful aroma coming from street vendors, the squeals of youth whistling past, the seagulls, and the waves of the ocean audible even amidst the bustling crowds… I can see it.”

“You remember all of that?” Kazuha looks adorable when bashful.

The sun is already at its highest peak. Sweat has started to form around your hairline; Kazuha had to buy you popsicles, which you got from the Wanmin Restaurant. The popsicle is entirely blue, nearly translucent, and tastes like eating just ice, but it effectively cools you down. Kazuha doesn’t appear bothered by the heat in the slightest, going as far as to insist on carrying all the souvenirs you’ve been purchasing.

He has only one arm full, though. The other is free and linked with yours.

“You didn’t tell me one important thing, though,” you say.

Kazuha blinks once, then furrows his brows. “What is it?” He looks sincerely worried.

“You didn’t tell me you’re famous,” you tease, nudging a red-faced Kazuha with your elbow. “Oh, it’s Kaedehara, you’re back! And here I thought you were like a celebrity in Inazuma. You might just be well-loved everywhere.” Well, who could blame them? You’re no better than the people of Teyvat.

He shakes his head. “Far from it,” he insists, ever the modest guy. “I just happen to be caught up with The Crux.”

“Those ladies seem to disagree. They were trying to impress you, you know.”

Kazuha shifts uncomfortably, his face a funny shade of pink. “I did not pay close enough attention. I apologize.”

A laugh escapes you, in disbelief. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

“I did not realize you were the jealous type.”

You gawk at his words, spinning around to see that a hint of something smug playing on his lips. “That’s not—You… shut up. I’m not.”

Kazuha opens his mouth to say something stupid to fluster you probably, but you’re quicker. You retrieve a container wrapped in plastic, its surface moist from the steam within. Kazuha falls silent, his watchful gaze fixed on you as you unwrap it, his nose undoubtedly detecting a familiar and enticing aroma.

“This is…” Kazuha picks one stick up and observes it. “Mondstadt Grilled Fish.”

“Yes,” you say, grinning proudly. “One of your favorites. You sent me the recipe last year, remember? Kept practicing it for this moment.”

But Kazuha’s heavy gaze is not on the food, but on you, an unreadable emotion clouding his eyes. The tension disappears when he smiles and takes a bite. You watch him enjoy his food in peace, belatedly deciding to do the same. You know you did good but Kazuha didn’t have to look like he’s in bliss, eyes closed and everything.

“Thank you,” he says. “You keep surprising me. This was meant to be a day for you.”

“You here with me is enough to make all my days,” you say, mouth full of fish grilled to perfection. Embarrassingly enough, there are crumbs that spew out. You take another big bite, crumbs of it sticking to the sides of your mouth.

You must look a little stupid, tucked in some corner of Liyue, standing next to Kazuha and eating grilled fish silently.

Your field of vision is abruptly engulfed by Kazuha's face. You have barely time to react, your body falling still as your attention is swallowed by the red of his eyes, which are focused on your mouth. You feel warmth press against the side of your mouth, your heart leaping to your throat at the sensation.

“Sorry,” he says, not looking at all sorry. “You had crumbs on your face.” Which does not explain why he has to kiss it off, but it was at this moment that you understand. Kazuha doesn’t lose balance and doesn’t do anything by mistake.

The dam crumbles.

The third happens when the night is creeping in on your first day, in some inn you didn’t bother looking at, too caught up in the way Kazuha is grinning at you in his own Kazuha-way: all soft and sweet.

“I can’t… believe—how long?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” he murmurs, closing the door behind you. “It wasn’t a grand revelation that happened one night. It just felt as if it was the only explanation.” His eyes flicker to you, keeping your faces close enough to where your noses are touching. He’s waiting for an answer.

“I had a crush on you the moment we met,” you confess, face hot. “And then it never went away, even when you had to leave. Distance makes the heart grow fonder or whatever.”

Kazuha’s smile tips on something a little more sly. “I apologize for keeping you waiting, then.”

Years and years of longing for Kazuha, rereading each and every one of his letters, and cherishing every second of when he comes to visit—all of it’s more than worth it if it led you here, in a secluded room, sharing hushed whispers with the boy you’ve wanted all your life.

“So… what are we—”

You’re rudely interrupted by Kazuha pecking your lips.

You frown. “Hey, wait, I’m—mmph—trying to—Kazuha!”

“I’m sorry,” he says, but he tugs you to his chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Sorry,” he murmurs again, but he’s leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw, smiling against your skin as you shiver.

“It’s okay,” you whisper in the quiet of the night, in the steady silence occasionally broken by the beating of your hearts. “It was an accident.”

“Mm,” he hums, nodding. “An accident.”

You stare at each other for a pregnant pause.

“This one isn’t, though,” Kazuha says and dives in for a kiss that leaves you breathless, years and years of buried feelings pouring over.

this was supposed to be for kazuha’s bday but i couldn't finish it in time :(!!! belated happy birthday to the greenest flag ever <3

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x y/n #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha fluff #kazuha fluff #genshin fluff

[strangersmunsons]

Eddie goes shopping with you. eddie munson x gn!reader, ~900 words

“Okay, now what do you think of this?” You hold out a crisp white button-down shirt.

“I think that’s great,” he says automatically. 

“Eddie,” you sigh impatiently, “you’ve said that about every article of clothing we’ve seen today. I need like, an actual opinion.”

“That is an actual opinion.” He sounds offended that you might suggest otherwise.

“C’mon, I’m trying to look professional! You gotta help me.”

“I am helping!” Eddie holds up both arms to emphasize his point — he’s laden with bags from the stores you hit earlier in your shopping venture, weighed down with the new clothes you’re purchasing so as to better look the part for your new job.

A small giggle escapes you in spite of your exasperation. “I told you you don’t have to carry any of those,” you remind him, folding your arms across your chest.

Eddie scoffs. “And what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you haul this crap around all day?” He shakes his head, dark curls tumbling about his soft face. “No way. Wayne raised me right, thank you.”

“Well, that he certainly did,” you admit, a rush of affection warming your chest. Unable to help yourself, you reach out and pinch his little cheek between your thumb and index finger.

He pouts at the gesture, pretending to be annoyed; but really, a thrill shoots through him at the brief moment of contact. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for you to be touching him always. 

But it’s not like that. Not for you two.

Eddie tells himself that it’s okay, that he’s accepted it, he’ll content himself with daydreams and fantasies as he always has —

“Do you think black looks classier, though?” You’ve turned back to face the clothing rack again, thoughtfully fingering the silky fabric of a dark shirtsleeve. Your eyes narrow. “Or is it almost too formal?”

Eddie blinks dazedly, then shrugs. “I dunno. I wear black all the time, no one’s ever put me up for best dressed.” He frowns. “I suppose it’s a little different when it’s a Metallica t-shirt, though.”

You poke him playfully. “Or ripped jeans.”

Eddie swats your hand away, heart leaping.

You snicker in response, then soften. “For the record, I do like the way you dress. It goes with your whole thing, y’know?” You motion towards him vaguely, hands waving up and down his figure.

“My thing?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum. “The hair, the attitude, the music. Even your name. The whole thing.”

“What does my name have to do with any of that stuff?”

You shift your weight from foot to foot as you think about how to word your answer, tongue poking ever so slightly out of your mouth — an unconscious imitation of the face Eddie often makes when he’s focusing. He swoons a little when he realizes that you’re picking up some of his habits.

“I mean, if I didn’t know who you were, and someone told me to pick out the guy named Eddie Munson from a crowd of a hundred people, I could do it like that,” you tell him, snapping your fingers on the last word. “No one has ever looked more like they should be named Eddie Munson than you.” Your eyes cut over to his. “Does that make sense?”

Bewildered, Eddie’s eyebrows have shot up so high they’ve all but disappeared under his bangs. “…kind…of?”

You pat his shoulder, amused. “Don’t worry about it. Just look at the shirt.”

Obediently, his gaze flits back to the top. You smile expectantly, and he works to offer some sincere judgment. 

“Um, it looks comfier than the white one? Not as starchy.”

You nod sagely. “True.” You examine it more closely, a flicker of uncertainty clouding your features. “Do you think it’d look okay on me?”

Of course he does. He thinks you look nice in everything. In your pajamas, in your dressiest formalwear — it doesn’t matter. He never wants to hold you any less. To him, you’ve always the most beautiful person in the world. Whatever you happen to put on your body is irrelevant.

But this is the whole point of him accompanying you; he practically begged for you to let him tag along, swearing that it would be fun and that he’d help you. You’d been a smidge embarrassed at first, certain he’d grow impatient with your indecisiveness and bored with the constant vanishing into dressing rooms, but you seem comfortable now, letting him tote your bags around and asking for his advice. He hopes you’ll take him again next time, and then the next time, and then again after that…

“Yes, I do. I think you’d look really wonderful,” he finally answers. “You look incredible in everything you wear. Honest. You don’t need to worry about anything you buy today.”

Your eyes shine, a bashful smile spreading across your lips. “Really?”

“Of course,” he replies, face reddening. “You — you could wear a potato sack and make it look good, frankly.”

You laugh. “Yes, I’m sure that would be very flattering on me.”

“Hey, I think you could rock it.” He knows you think he’s teasing you, but he means it. And he’ll tell you again, and again, and again, until you believe him.

He’s got nothing but time.

#just a quick lil thing here :^) kinda just jotted this one down #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #lovesick!eddie #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic

[meowmeowriley]

@sergeantwoods Sorry for the long wait, but here's the mer!AU

Think I'll call it Fish Out of the Sea

Ghost x Soap, blacktip reef shark mer!Soap, human Ghost, fluff, getting together (kinda)

Ficlet after the cut 😘

"No."

John sighed, he didn't seem surprised by Shepherd's hard rejection, but he kept trying. Simon had to give props to the fishing boat Captain. "You have the best mer rehabilitation facility in the country. It'd be a shame not to use it."

"You said you had a mermaid. That's not a fucking mermaid, John."

"I said I had an injured mer." He repeated himself from their earlier conversation.

"I'm not taking that thing into my facility."

"He needs help-"

"He's hideous, and aggressive." Shepherd barked. "That thing keeps lashing out, it'll scare patrons, attack my staff, and if that *thing* touches my mermaids, tries to mate with them, I'll have it put down."

"Mers are actually matriarchal, sir." The mer expert, Kyle, finally spoke up. "I've never worked with a shark mer before, but I do know he won't mess with Kate or Rosa, because they won't want him. Since they're together."

"Kyle. For the last time, the mermaids aren't lesbians. They're just fish." Shepherd was one of those who thought of mers as lesser than humans. Obviously.

Simon was standing near the door. No one had noticed him sneak in, but when he'd overheard that the mer was a shark variant, he'd needed to see it. Now, seeing the poor thing huddled in the corner of it's transport tank, curled in on itself, he felt so bad for it. He watched, any time someone went near it it flared out it's dorsal and pectoral fins. It would gnash it's teeth and charge the glass. All signs of aggression in a shark but... as soon as it finished its display it was right back to the furthest corner from the humans. It kept peeking at them over it's own shoulder when it thought they weren't looking. He quietly crept closer.

He took in it's markings, gray on it's back, white on its belly, black tips to it's fins. Claspers on its pelvic fins. A male blacktip reef shark then. His inferior end was all shark, something Simon was very familiar with, as he took care of all of the sharks here at the aquarium, several of them blacktips. His superior end, or top half, he supposed a visitor would (incorrectly) consider it, was new and interesting to him. Though he was vaguely humanoid, his skin was all two tones white and gray, like his tail. He had a wedge shaped snout in place of a human nose, a wider mouth with jagged teeth. Slitted eyes, and a black tipped fin atop his head that reminded Simon of a mohawk. Webbed gray and white hands with black claws rubbed up and down it's own arms in a self soothing gesture. One forearm had an odd angle to it, probably the injury that landed him here.

He retreated from the tank quietly before speaking, interrupting the squabbling of the other men. "He looks like a reef shark to me." Everyone else jumped. "Blacktip reef sharks aren't aggressive. Sure they can get a little iffy during feeding, but they're more curious than anything."

"He's been charging the glass, Ghost." Simon managed to suppress his eye roll at Shepherd's nickname for him. They all called him that here. "Fuck you mean 'not aggressive', you don't know mers."

"No, but I know sharks. He's injured, and defensive. You ever think he doesn't like us because it was something shaped like us that broke his arm?" John winced, he obviously felt bad about it. Not like he could've know he'd caught the mer in his net, but it was nice to see some accountability from a fisherman for once.

"Well we can't communicate with him, so he'll stay scared and defensive." If Simon didn't love the sharks, he would've left this place a long time ago because Shepherd was an absolutely abrasive cunt.

"Kate and Rosa can. And their English is excellent." Kyle spoke up again. "We have them pass on the message of our intentions, and Ghost and I tag team his rehabilitation." Of course he uses the dumb nickname too. "It's the perfect plan! And an incredible opportunity to be one of two aquariums to actually work with a shark mer. The novelty of something so rare will bring in patrons." Kyle was really leaning into Shepherd's true interests here, bringing up money.

Shepherd was quiet for a moment and then, "If anything happens, you're both fired." He then stormed out of the room.

"Thanks, Gaz."

"Of course, Cap."

Now the three of them had to get the shark mer into an appropriate tank.

***

They had initially tried to put him in with the other mers, but he'd seen the sharks in the tank across the hall and told Kate he wanted to be with his own kind. That would make Simon's job easier, anyway. Kate had explained that they needed to put a cast on his arm, and Rosa had wrestled it onto him, since the humans couldn't get too close. They decided to name him John, after Captain Price, calling him Johnny affectionately. Gaz explained to Ghost that part of rehabbing Johnny would be gaining his trust, teach him to communicate. To release him without a way to communicate could lead to him attacking humans and being a problem down the road.

Simon had a plan: ignore him. He was a reef shark, his own curiosity would get him to open up. It took a week.

Simon would feed his sharks from a catwalk above their tank, for safety reasons, dropping their food in in the mornings before they opened their doors. No need to scare any children. For the first week, any time he passed by, Johnny would posture aggressively and gnash his teeth, before snatching up his food and swimming off. When Ghost would gear up and go in the water for his evening shows, Johnny stayed far away. At night, Gaz and his mers would move over and Ghost would mostly just observe as the girls tried to teach Johnny how to speak, and he petulantly ignored them, with a little pout on his face as he refused to even make eye contact with them. It was cute.

The first time he tried to speak was also the first time Simon saw him raise his head above the surface. He seemed frantic. "HAAAH!" He startled a bit at what was most likely the first time he ever used his lungs to breath air. "HAAAAH! AH! YAAH!" he was waving with his good arm. Stretching it out towards the platform between his tank and that of the other mers, thrashing his tail with his fins tucked in. Very distressed. Simon went to check, to see what could possibly be bothering him so much, when he found their elusive fourth mer. Simon had only seen Gary once. Gaz called him Roach, because he hid in the tiniest cracks in the reef in their enclosure, why on earth the isopod mer was on the platform, and not in the water, was beyond him, but he couldn't let the poor thing suffer. He had several of his little legs caught in a grate. Simon spent some time disentangle him. He tossed the infant sized mer into the nearest tank, which happened to be the shark tank, with Johnny. The larger mer immediately dove to catch him. He stroked Roach's antennae back like one would the hair of a small child, a soothing motion. Clearly not as much of a loner as he pretended to be. From then on the little isopod mer could be found clinging to Johnny's sides or fins with his many little periopods more often than not. After that, it seemed that Gary encouraged Johnny's more curious side. The mer's language was mostly outside of the human range of hearing, but Simon occasionally caught clicks, whistles or hums shared between the two.

Simon had left a bucket with soap close to the edge once, the two mers were clearly curious about it, but he didn't think anything would come of it. Which is why it was such a surprise when Johnny stuck a webbed hand in and scooped some out, popping it immediately into his mouth. Simon knew it wasn't enough to harm him, which is why he couldn't help but laugh at the poor creatures misfortune as it sputtered and writhed, making bubbles. While laughing he let his guard down, and was surprised when something struck him, knocking him off the catwalk and into the tank. He opened his eyes and looked around, seeing only Roach, floating downward, listing side to side, tiny head in his tiny hands. He surfaced to see Johnny. "Did you just throw him at me?!" Johnny sunk down so only his eyes and cranial fin were above the water. The little shit. "Not cool, Soap!" He forced his palm out towards the mer, sending a spray of water its way. That seemed to really break down the mer's walls.

Johnny started approaching while Simon would try and clean the tank. At first, darting away if Simon caught sight of him. Eventually however, he would get closer and simply observe. He'd watch Simon work at cleaning the glass or vacuuming the sand at the bottom. It was fun to see shark behavior and mer behavior collide. If Simon sat something down, Johnny would pick it up, and without a doubt if he could get it in his hands, it would end up in his mouth.

There was a small crowd, a child's birthday party had been held over by Gaz's mer tank, the girls were always a hit with the kids, and the little show they put on with Gaz was actually pretty funny. They'd harass him as he pretended to try and do his chores. Slapstick comedy was good for all ages.

Simon had his own show with his sharks, but it wasn't for a few more hours. He was actually just trying to clean. Apparently his cleaning sponge had caught Johnny's attention, as the mer had swam up and was watching him intently. He kept inching forward, eventually crowding Simon against the glass while reaching for his sponge. "Oi!" He said into his respirator, not that anyone could hear him. He shoved Johnny away and kept trying to cleaning, but the persistent bastard just kept coming back. He could vaguely see the crowd observing them through the glass. They were probably laughing. When he'd had enough, he got an idea. He turned when Johnny got close again and placed one hand on his dorsal fin and the other on the underside of his snout. He began to rub at the sensitive underside of the mer's snout, and just like his sharks, the mer entered a state of tonic immobility. He repositioned Johnny, nose down tail to the surface, Johnny's arms hung limply down past his head. Simon quickly withdrew his hands and watched as the mer continued to float for a bit, before blinking vigorously. He shook his head before righting himself, and slapped his tail into Simon's chest as he practically fled to his little cave at the other end of the tank. When he surfaced later, Gaz informed him that the kids were raving about how cool the 'shark guys' were.

Simon had to admit that Johnny was growing on him. He looked forward to seeing him each day. Johnny began trying to get Simon to swim with him. He'd grab Simon's arms and try to pull him into the water when he was on land, or he'd push Simon away from the glass and his cleaning supplies, towards the open water. Sometimes Simon would indulge him, and the two of them would make laps around the tank.

Simon realized, when Johnny began posturing towards the sharks and getting territorial about him towards them, that Johnny was attempting to court him. Worse, he couldn't bring himself to try and put an end to the behavior either. Johnny was getting touchy, he'd run his hands along Simon's sides or chest, in much the same way Simon would to per his sharks, but it felt different. He would push Simon until he floated horizontally in the water, then drape himself across the man.

Simon knew he was getting himself into some deep shit, but he couldn't help the small voice in the back of his head that urged him to reach out, to cradle the mer's rubbery cheeks in his hands. He wanted to kiss him. He was fucked.

***

I hope you liked it! Ngl, I really liked this one. If you don't mind, I might expand on this and make it a multi-chapter fic over on AO3? I wanna explore more of society's reaction to mers, specifically interspersed relationships and where this could go. Let me know what you think, and thanks for the idea!

#ive had this one on the brain for a hot minute #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #cod mw2 #fanfic #call of duty #text post #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare #mermaid au #mer!au #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #mer!john soap mactavish #shark mermaid

[alkalinefrog]

Hey Alka, I had a quick question for you (whenever you have the time to answer or even if you have the time), I've been taking some storyboard classes and with my illustration background, it's been hard to really find a good shorthand for characters to really get that anatomy/gesture looking right without it being too sketchy and unreadable.

How long did it take you to find your storyboard shorthand, and what exercises would you recommend to try to find it? I'm sure it just takes time and practice, I've been doing a lot more studies and gesture drawings (currently following along all the free Glenn Vilppu videos I can find on youtube) but I wanted to ask you as well because I am in love with how fluid your anatomy is, and how clear your storyboards read. And those hands my god you're a wizard!!!

Thanks a bunch, have a wonderful day!

Heya Secret, great to hear from ya! Well, what you don’t see online is how gross the rough stage of my boards can get LMFAO. Most of the boards I post are actually overly cleaned up because I'm just doing them for fun and can afford the time! I'm not really sure how long it took to develop my shorthand, I've never really enjoyed drawing detail to begin with, so when I decided to go into boarding I kinda just leaned into it!

I’ve covered a bunch of gesture drawing exercises already if you scroll through my advice tag, but ***once you have a good foundation*** here's some stuff you can try!

First you'll want to build up an arsenal of anatomy hacks you can always fallback on, particularly for complex parts of the body. The less time you spend on details, the more time you have to focus on the overall pose and storytelling. Aim to find ways to draw with as FEW lines as possible. If I had to make a list to streamline what to practice:

Head shapes - find the most efficient way to draw the front + 3/4 + side view in as few lines as possible (the challenge is still making them look structured with dimension)

Eyes - are SO important for expressions! Unless your project has characters with dot eyes, you're going to need to find a quick way to do the circle and iris in as few lines as possible. Make sure you can convey where they're looking

Hands - fists (you'll be drawing a lot of people holding poles), open palms at various angles, foreshortened fingers pointing at viewer, fingers making grabby motions----protips: 1) half the time all you need is a vague triangle/rectangle plus thumb sticking up and that's a hand 2) if the hand is relaxed, you probably don't need to draw the knuckles. Save some time!

Feet - just learn how to make sure they look like they're standing on the ground, and do some studies of what they look like when you're running. Otherwise you can usually get away with a vague shoe or boot shape (just add toe lines if they're not wearing any)

----everything else you'll practice as you go!

Jump from SUPER rough straight into clean boards to really force yourself to be economic. I've done each of these methods for work before:

Before you start boarding with a character, sketch them a few times with the intention of simplifying their design while keeping them recognizable:

You'd be surprised how little you need to recognize a character:

Depending on the scene, you can adjust how much detail you want to include:

Stay loose/more generalized with action, especially for the "inbetweens" between key poses. Clean up enough to communicate movement and make the character recognizable.

If the character's small on screen in a wide shot, edit out most details and focus on the silhouette

Save the detail work for character acting, when you really want to be specific with their expressions and gestures.

But outside of all that, be bold and fearless!! Everyone has that stage where their boards look like spaghetti! Boarding is like handwriting; you could have really shitty chicken scratch, but if you're writing beautiful poetry, who cares!

god I love drawing hands you don’t even know thank you so much!! Good luck dude!! You’ve more than got this!!

#my art #advice #ask #secretsivekept #you got this! #sorry this took a while! my mental health was in the pits for a solid couple weeks #getting better now though! #storyboards

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

Cloudy Christmastime

damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent

(A/N): Before anyone protests, I headcanon the Wayne family as celebrating both Jewish holidays like Yom Kippur and Hanukkah as well as Christmas and Easter because yes, Bruce is ethnically Jewish (though may have done Christmas as well) but Dick/Jason/Tim/Steph would have likely celebrated Christmas. So they do both.

Anyway, this is a christmas gift for @glorified-red and literally the 5th take on this fic bc they first said Hallmark movie, then damijon hallmark movie, then whump. And then it took me three tries to get something I was close to happy with so I hope you enjoy. This ended up being a mix of domestic fluff and h/c.

warnings: sensory overload

wc: ~2600

~~

“Tell me again why Santa doesn’t bring us gifts if he’s real. Like our dads have met him. And he still doesn’t bring us presents,” Jon lamented from the couch, bundled up in four blankets. 

From your spot on the floor by the tree, you looked up, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Because we’re not kids anymore? And how do you know Santa ever brought us gifts?” 

“Perhaps,” Damian added, passing Jon a cup of hot chocolate. He placed a second cup on the coffee table and lifted one to his lips. “He only brought gifts to people to make a point. I never received any from him as a child but father has gotten many over the years.” 

Jon listed to the side, head landing on Damian’s shoulder. “I think that’s worse.”

For the first time in a while, Jon felt Damian’s huff of laughter more than he heard it. Your small chuckle was similarly inaudible. Jon hated solar flaring. Not only was it a pain to deal with for the day and change—one could argue he got either lucky or really unlucky by solar flaring the morning of Christmas Eve—but it always threw his senses out of whack as they trickled back in. And, with the gray skies of Gotham’s winter, Jon was expecting it to be even weirder than usual. It was worth it though, to him, in order to spend the day itself with his partners. It was enough that the Kent family Christmas Eve was ruined by Lex Luthor. He wasn’t going to let his Christmas day be ruined too. 

“I’m sorry, mi sol,” you offered with a shrug and a smile. Jon met your grin with his own. A full-body shiver wracked his frame. Your gaze turned concerned. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Jon agreed, “Just chilly.” Damian’s arm wrapped further around Jon, pulling their sides flush against each other. Jon maneuvered the blankets away to soak in his warmth. 

“Ameli, we can turn the heat up,” Damian offered. 

“Nope,” Jon argued, nuzzling into Damian’s neck. “This is good.” Damian’s resulting huff of air teased at the hair on the top of Jon’s head. 

“Mi luna?” You asked from the floor. Damian turned to look at you. Jon followed, eyes traveling over the mound of presents arranged under the tree. There was a pile around the back of the tree against the wall for Damian’s family (Jon still needed to give Dick his gift from the Hanukkah celebration a couple weeks ago. The blue dreidel paper was obvious against the sea of brown, red, and green wrapping paper.), and a smaller one for yours. The empty gap left behind after the Kent Christmas was already filled in with a large box Jon was like ninety percent sure was a new easel for Damian. You ordered it, not him, but Jon couldn’t think of anything else on any of your lists that was even close to that size. “Can you hand me that please?” You gestured to a precarious stack on the coffee table. 

Damian acquiesced, passing over a teetering pile of vaguely book-shaped items. Who those were for was anyone’s guess. Jon was grateful Alfred had helped you and him pay for some of the gifts for Damian. Looking at the gift tags, it otherwise would have been horribly uneven. And Damian himself wouldn’t have minded, Jon knew, but you and him would have been upset about it anyway. He deserves the world, your rohi. Damian pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you, still arranging presents under the tree. He showed it quickly to Jon before texting it to him immediately. 

“This look okay?” You asked, peeking out from behind the tree. Jon looked it over. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for exactly, but he also wasn’t exactly the reigning opinion on artistic presentation. 

“It looks fine, hayati” Damian said, eyes still trained on his phone. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“You didn't even look.” 

Damian turned to look at you. “Because I knew it looked fine, beloved.” His eyes scanned the presents. “And it does.” 

You shook your head at him, exasperated, before conceding and sitting heavily on the couch. Scooching in, you nearly pressed up against Jon’s other side. 

“Come closer,” He whined, untangling a hand from the blankets to grab yours. “You’re warm.” 

Jon could feel the look exchanged over his head. 

“I’m not that warm,” you argued even as you grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table and arranged the blankets so that you could fit underneath. “You’re just cold.” 

Jon shrugged. The hand that wasn’t holding yours reached underneath Damian’s shirt and he swore, grabbing Jon’s wrist to keep its chill away. Another look passed over Jon’s head. He wondered sometimes if the two of you were aware he knew what you were doing and just didn’t care. Probably. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, amorcito?” You asked. Jon shrugged. 

“It’s cold outside and I’m human but otherwise yeah. I have you two,” he added smugly. Damian’s playful shoulder hit came at the same time as your muttered “sap.” Jon grinned. “So because I’m sick—sort of—I get to pick the movie. And we’re watching Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Despite the protests on both sides, the movie was playing before Damian could even get up to turn the lights off. To the side of the couch, the lights on the Christmas tree bathed the room in a soft white glow. 

~

Jon awoke to a cold bed. On a good day, he’d wake with the sun—or whenever it wormed its way through the bedroom’s black out curtains—or to an international emergency. Okay, not that the emergency was good, just that he was feeling good enough to know it was happening. On a bad day, all bets were off. Jon stuck his hand out of the covers, searching blindly for his phone. After a moment of finding nothing but the wood of the end table, the scratchiness of the sheets was unignorable and he gave up, flinging back the covers to get out of bed. Hanging over the side of the dresser was a dark red sweatshirt. Jon grabbed it and tugged it on, rubbing his arms to get the lingering echo of the sheets off his skin. His off kilter super hearing zeroed in on the crooning of Michael Bublé before zooming back out into the general background noise coming from the kitchen. Jon winced, squaring his shoulders. That was a bad sign. But it was Christmas; he’d be fine. 

A quick squint at his phone told Jon that it was just after noon. No wonder the bed was cold. Jon shivered, then grabbed a pair of your fuzzy socks before opening the bedroom door. 

The smell of cinnamon and chocolate coming from the kitchen was pleasant rather than unbearable. Jon let himself breathe it in as he approached quietly. He didn’t even notice you behind him—though that was often true of an average day—before there were arms around his waist and a head on his shoulder. He let himself lean back into the warmth of you. 

“Merry Christmas, mi amor. How are you feeling?” you inquired. Hot breath ghosted across his neck. Jon shrugged. 

“Fine. Excited for today.” He spun around to face you, eyes taking in your christmas pj pants and sweater with a Robin logo. Over your shoulder, Jon could see flashes of blue, likely Damian’s nightwing sweatshirt. “Merry Christmas,” he added, tucking his nose into the spot just underneath your ear for just a moment. No matter what his super senses were like, he took comfort in the smell of the two of you. A hand weaved through his hair, a kiss pressed to the top of his head. Jon pulled back just enough to give you a peck on the lips before being spun around into a kiss from Damian. 

“Merry Christmas, my heart,” Jon muttered, pressing a second lingering kiss to Damian’s jawline. A steady heartbeat pulsed under his fingers, wrapped around Damian’s wrist. 

“Good morning,” Damian said, wrapping an arm around Jon to keep him close. Jon blindly reached out and a second calloused hand found his. A second warm body curled around him. He missed your heartbeats’ song in his ears, but Damian’s pounding steadily under his ear and yours fluttering underneath his fingertips was good enough for right then. “Are you alright?” Damian continued. “It’s late.” His voice was echoey underneath Jon’s ear and Jon flinched instinctively. The two of you reacted immediately, pulling back. 

“Jon?” you asked, voice laced with concern. 

“Yeah,” he managed. “I’m mostly good. About as expected, you know?” Jon offered up a smile. By the looks on your faces, it didn’t do as much reassurance as he’d hoped. “I’m sorry I slept so late.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Damian argued. “There is no reason to.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Jon sighed. 

“How are you feeling about breakfast, mi sol?” You asked, tangling your fingers with his. 

“Sounds good,” Jon agreed. 

~

“Oh yeah I should definitely send Dick a text to thank him. And also say Merry Christmas,” Jon said, flopping down on the couch after breakfast. With his partners looking happy, Christmas music in the background, and a breakfast of vegan pancakes in his stomach, Jon could almost forget about the buzzing under his skin. 

“Tt,” Damian scoffed. “He would have swapped with me anyway. Gordon and Father are both working tonight so it was pointless for him to have the evening off.”

Jon shrugged. “Still, doesn’t hurt to say thanks.” 

“Say hi from me too,” you yelled over the running kitchen sink. After a moment more, the water shut off and Jon released a silent sigh at the absence of an irritating bit of noise. He was lucky the x-ray vision hadn’t started acting up. Not only was that like the antithesis of Christmas presents (his mom kept presents out of the house or in a lead box until morning for that very reason), but it was also a huge pain and the hardest to hide. Screwy touch and hearing was more than enough. Dishware clanked around in the kitchen as Damian sat beside Jon on the couch. 

“No change?” He asked, reaching for a Nightwing mug of cider on the coffee table. 

Jon shrugged. “Nope, nothing yet.” Damian narrowed his eyes and Jon attempted to start coming up with excuses. At the very least, he could probably get Damian to leave it alone until after gifts. Less so if you noticed too and started teaming up on him. 

“Ready for presents?” You asked, sitting down on the other side of Damian. You raised the untouched Superman mug to your lips, eyes scanning over Jon. 

“Yes!” Jon butt in before you could say anything. “Let’s do it.” 

You and Damian exchanged a look. On the floor below, the elevator dinged, releasing a family with a horde of kids. “Okay,” you conceded, standing to grab the first load of presents.

In the apartment directly underneath, the front door squealed open. A load of presents was slammed down on the floor beside him. Three kids squealed “gramma!” in unison. Jon’s hoodie was all of the sudden suffocating him. 

Jon jumped up and yanked the sweatshirt over his head, pawing the sleeves off before yanking his socks off too. He didn’t care where they ended up. His hands went up to press against his ears. Stumbling over his own feet, Jon meandered backwards until his back slammed into a wall and then slid down, knees up and head with ears still covered in between them. Sounds zoomed in and out. All of the sudden, he could hear Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer playing eight floors down, then A Christmas Carol on someone’s TV across the street. Focus! Jon yelled at himself through all the noise. One steady beat came into focus, then another. 

Until there was a soft item brushing his feet, Jon didn’t realize he had company. A steady beat pulsed in his ears, too loud even for its familiarity. He pulled the blanket close. Something plastic nudged his shoulder and Jon grabbed it instinctively, slamming special-made headphones over his ears. The sounds faded down into something manageable. Jon took a deep breath. And then another. He didn’t need to hear to know that the two of you were there. When he reached out tentatively with his sense of smell, the usual wave of cinnamon-vanilla-brown sugar-clove and somethings just the two of you tempered by pine and peppermint was comforting rather than overwhelming. Jon let it wash over him, clutching the soft weighted blanket to his chest. 

When he cracked his eyes open, two blurs blinked into focus as his partners, leaning against the back of the couch and hands linked. Damian’s head rested on your shoulder, one of your hands tangled in his hair. Jon noticed as soon as Damian saw he was up. He almost slammed his head into your chin as he shot up and Jon huffed a laugh.  

“Ameli?” Damian asked. Your eyes locked onto Jon’s. 

“You guys shouldn’t sit on the floor,” Jon responded. “It’s bad for your backs.”

You offered Jon a hand, ignoring his remark completely. Jon’s chest ached. If you weren’t willing to banter, he’d scared you. “How are you feeling?”   

Jon took the hand and stood, adjusting the headphones so they stayed on his head. He tossed the blanket over his shoulder and reached his other hand out towards Damian before tugging the both of you up and towards the couch. 

“I’m okay,” Jon reassured you, sitting down on the couch. “I promise.” When neither of you moved, he tugged you both down on top of him, interrupting the bat-assessment written all over Damian’s face.  

“Promise like this morning?” Damian argued. Jon winced. 

“Okay, yeah maybe I shouldn’t have—”

“Been a self-sacrificial dumbass as if we don’t a) know you and b) want you to talk to us?” You cut in. Jon could read the hurt underneath the anger clear as day. His fingers brushed over two sets of knuckles, one scarred from years of fighting without protective gear, the other dry from the winter air. 

“I know. I just wanted today to be a good day, you know? We never get uninterrupted holidays.” Jon resisted the urge to pull his hands away from yours and curl into himself. The two burning gazes on him were ones of love and concern, though, not judgment. 

“And for some reason you think accommodating you makes the day worse, why?” Damian asked. Jon didn’t have an answer. 

“We love you, Jon. Eres nuestro pareja. We picked ‘partners’ for a reason, yeah?”  You squeezed his hand in yours. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, head dropping to your shoulder. Silence was heavy in the room for a moment. 

“You choose what we do next,” Damian stated, tugging the blacket from its bundled blob to instead cover you and Jon. 

Jon moved from your shoulder to halfway on top of Damian, tugging you on top of him. “You guys are going to squish me in between you while we watch a movie and then we can do presents?” 

You shot him a wicked smile. Jon shrieked as Damian pulled him bodily half on top of him along the couch, cut off when you landed nearly on top of Jon. 

“Good?” You asked. Jon let himself sink into Damian, arms coming up to wrap around your waist. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Good.”

Damian grabbed the remote. “We’re not watching Elf.”

Jon stuck his tongue out at him.  

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #jon kent x reader #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #damian wayne #jonathan kent #jon kent x gender neutral reader #emerson writes sometimes

[so-long-soldier28]

Favorite Sociopath

kai parker x reader

summary: damon and bonnie leave you in charge of babysitting kai. you accept willingly as time to get to know him.

tags: characters watching american horror story / ahs references, talking about trauma, past child abuse, childhood trauma, accidental cuddling / cuddling, bonding

word count: ~3.5k

“I’m almost finished, shut up,” Bonnie snaps at the brooding man beside her.

Damon puts his hands up, “jeez.”

“He’s in Georgia. At this location,” she points to the site on the map.

“What’s he doing there?”

“It’s your brother, you tell me.”

“It’s not like I control him!”

“Ah,” a voice interrupts their arguing, “the two of you, still bickering. Just like in the old days of 1994.”

“Shut up, Kai,” Damon orders the younger man. 

“Harsh words! I’m hurt.” He grabs his chest as if he were stabbed.

“You’re fine.”

The siphon clicks his tongue, “so when are we leaving?”

“We? You’re not going anywhere.”

“Oh come on! I helped,” he gestures vaguely, “with the spell.”

“Suggesting a locator spell is not helping. But regardless, your help or lack thereof is not why you’re not coming. You’re dangerous; you can’t be trusted. You’re staying here. Y/N, you’re watching him.”

“What?” Bonnie whips to face Damon before you can even comment. “He cannot be alone with her, he’ll kill her! How do you think Elena will feel when she finds out you let the psychopath murder her cousin?”

“Please, she’ll be fine! She can handle her own.”

“Kai is a psychopath! Whether or not she can handle her own means nothing when you have a psychotic witch against a mere human!”

“Only slightly offended,” you mutter. Then louder, “I’ll be fine, trust me. Kai’s a sociopath, not a psychopath.”

“And that means what exactly? That he’s not capable of killing you?”

“No, I’m just saying… I don’t know… I trust him. Sociopaths at least have the capability to feel emotions, they’re just buried, or reserved for certain people. Psychopaths are the ones that scare me.”

Both are obviously baffled from your statement. Though as soon as Bonnie gets over it, she yells, “you trust him?! Are you crazy?”

Kai borrows your words, “only slightly offended.” It makes you chuckle. “Just a reminder - I’m right here.”

“And?”

“And, Bonnie, no. She’s not crazy. She can think for herself, y’know? And she’s right - I’m not going to hurt her.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t. You’re not the one being told to babysit me.”

“Damon, we cannot leave her with him!” She turns back to the man. 

“Well we’re running out of options. We could go with my original plan and leave these two here, go retrieve Stefan, and return. Or, we could bring them with us. Listen to Kai talk non-stop all the way to Georgia, grab Stefan, squeeze all three in the back of my camaro, and drive all the way back, with Kai still yammering. Does that sound fun to you?”

“Better than letting Y/N die at the jam-covered hands of him.”

You roll your eyes, “Bonnie, I’ll be fine. I promise. You two need to go get Stefan before he attacks someone else, and Georgia’s a long drive. Kai and I will be fine, and if not, there’s plenty of people I can call for help. Not only that, plenty of places I can hide in this massive house.”

“Just not under the bed,” Kai smirks, “I’ll find you there.”

You stifle a laugh as you meet Bonnie’s eyes. 

Kai notices her expression, too, and coughs, “just a joke. Very bad joke.”

“No more jokes.”

Seeing the fire in his friend’s eyes, Damon chooses the next moment to interrupt. “You’re right, Georgia’s a long drive. Kai, no leaving the house. Y/N, watch him carefully. No killing, no threatening, no nothing. Call Rick if you need anything-”

“Ew,” you cut him off.

“Alright. Call, I don’t know, Jeremy then. What’s wrong with Rick?”

“Weird, just weird. Might be the beard. Might be the…”

“Spit it out, Y/N.”

“Nah.”

Bonnie gives you a glare.

“Fine, I’ll call him. But I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Right, Kai?”

“Mhm.”

“See?”

“Whatever. Just be careful.”

◇◇◇◇

Twenty minutes later, they’re finally out the door. 

“Finally!” You collapse on the couch, “peace and quiet!”

Kai takes the chair across from you, then watches as you get comfortable.

“Want to watch something?”

“I am.”

“No, you goof. I mean on the TV,” you roll your eyes playfully at his comment.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know? Let’s see if there’s Netflix on here.”

“What’s a Netflix?”

“You’ll see.”

After a bit of scrolling - the brothers did, in fact, have Netflix downloaded - your eyes light up at one show in particular. 

“Oh this is a fun one.” 

“American Horror Story?”

“Mhm! Murder. Mayhem. It’s a masterpiece.”

“You’re into that sorta thing?”

You look at him, “why? Do I not look like it to you?”

“I don’t know, you just seem so sweet and innocent.”

“Oh, Kai Parker,” you coo at him, “that’s the thing about girls. Even the sweetest ones have a dark streak in there somewhere.” 

His eyes stay focused on you, nearly black and unblinking, but it’s hard to miss the lump in his throat.

“So you want to watch it?”

“You’ve got me intrigued. Now I’ve got to see it.”

You can’t help but giggle in excitement as you press start on the first episode. “They don’t have to be watched in order, but season one is a classic. Wait til you meet the love of my life, Tate Langdon.”

“Who’s Tate?”

“Oh, just my favorite sociopath,” you wink at him. “Aside from you, of course.”

His cheeks flush, but he tries to hide it with a cough. 

“It’s starting. Meet,” you spread your hands out as an introduction, “the twins, that I honestly forgot opened the show. And I don’t know their names.”

Kai chuckles, smiling at you before turning his eyes to the TV.

Only half of your attention is on the show, as the other half watches for the witch’s reactions. You notice a small grin when the twin - Brad? - gets sucked into the basement’s abyss. The expression should scare you, but you find yourself more entertained than anything else. His face changes, however, when Ben’s caught cheating on his wife. Kai’s eyes darken and jaw tenses. The smile returns when Vivian cuts the man’s arm in a fury, making you giggle. 

“He deserved that,” Kai justifies.

“Oh definitely.”

“I don’t know that much about… like, love, and all that, but you should never cheat on someone you love.”

Ignoring the butterflies in your stomach, you smile, “okay, Tate.” 

He cocks his head at you.

“You just nearly quoted him verbatim. Couldn’t help it. You’re right, though.”

You guys continue to watch. 

Eventually, the scene fades into the introduction. You can’t help but stick your tongue out at it, and don’t miss Kai muttering, “ew. That’s a little creepy, all those dolls and jars.” He grimaces.

“Sometimes the intros are scarier than the actual show.”

“How many seasons are there?”

“Four, but I bet there’ll be more.”

“Good. Ten minutes in and I’m hooked.”

“Season 3 is called Coven. But I really want you to meet Tate.”

“Coven? Is it anything like mine?”

“Well, let’s see from what you told me about yours... Shitty leaders - check. Awful parents - check. Stupid traditions - check. Yeah, similar.”

“Wait… you believe me? About my parents?”

“Of course,” you say without hesitation, “I mean, they locked you away for god’s sake. Of course I believe how they treated you. Why it made you snap.” Your tone quiets at the end, afraid to hit a nerve. Kai, however, doesn’t seem bothered by the mention of his crimes. He’s too focused on someone actually believing him; someone listening. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he remembers to respond. “Thank you. For believing me.”

“All the evidence is stacked against your father. And if we’re being honest, dads are usually the cause of trauma, in my personal opinion. I mean, just look at my childhood. Hey, look at Ben Harmon,” you gesture to the TV, “every shitty thing is his fault. Or, maybe I’m projecting. Either way, he sucks.”

Kai laughs.

“Regardless, yes, I believe you, Kai. You’re not alone in your feelings. And like I told Bonnie, I do trust you.”

He’s quiet for a second, “it means a lot.”

You nod.

“Back to the show now?”

“Sure.”

You push the back button a few times to where you guys were before your mini conversation. For a second as it starts to play, you keep your eyes on him. His lips form a small smile. Fingers are still, resting on the armchair. His posture, though…

“Hey, Kai?”

“Hm?”

“Are you comfy?”

“Enough, yeah, why?”

“Come here, sit with me.” You sit up to pat the pillow where your head had just been. “Don’t hurt your neck looking up like that.”

“Are you sure?”

“‘Course. I don’t bite.”

The witch chuckles as you move the pillow for him to sit beside you. He sinks into the couch and gives you a smile that reawakens the butterflies in your stomach. 

“Better?”

“Mhm, thank you.”

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

“What, why?” The question catches him off guard.

“It’s okay to say no, I just wanted to ask in case I lean into you by accident. Don’t want to startle you, or cross a line.”

“No, um, wait. It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you’re okay.”

Sensing his hesitation, you take slow movements to get back into your comfortable position. Soon, your shoulders touch gently, causing him to flinch a little.

“I’m okay still. I wasn’t… expecting it. I mean, I know you told me, but I wasn’t allowed to… I, uh, I’ve been isolated a lot of my life.” He debated his words carefully before settling on the explanation. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, sweet. It’s not your fault. I’m guessing your father’s responsible for that, too?”

Kai nods slowly. “As a siphon, who didn’t know how to control their power, any form of contact would harm the other person. If I was allowed out of my room, I had to wear gloves, but even then, wasn’t allowed to touch anyone. Then I was in the prison world for eighteen years, alone.”

Hearing another bit of his past makes your heart break. Neither Damon nor Bonnie have told you much about him, except for a few antics from the prison world. They call him dangerous, but haven’t even told you his side of the story. As you learn more about him, everything in you wants to reach out and give him a tight hug, but you refrain from doing that to not startle him. 

He acknowledges your silence, “is this the part where you run?”

You snap out of your thoughts, “no, Kai. No, I’m not going to run. I’m sorry, I was just thinking. How awful of a man to treat his son that way.” Suddenly, you turn your body so you can look him in the eye. “You’re safe with me, Kai. Okay? Ever need to talk, ever need a hug. I’m here.”

“Okay. Um, thank you.”

“So… you okay if I…” you slowly get closer to him until your shoulders are touching again. “This too much?”

“No, you’re okay. Feels nice, actually.”

“Tell me if you need me to move.”

He nods, then pushes play on the remote. 

A deep focus takes over to the both of you as the show continues. At some point, Kai’s hand begins to absentmindedly trail along your arm - a gesture you don’t notice until you feel a chill throughout your body. He feels it too, and immediately retracts his hand.

“It’s okay. I like it.”

Kai doesn’t say anything, but to your delight, puts his hand back on your arm. You stay like that throughout the episode, too relaxed to recognize the heaviness in your eyes as sleep soon consumes your body. 

◇◇◇◇

Sometime later, your eyes flutter open, making you confused. There’s no sound, not even the TV, but it’s a comfortable silence, not one that feels threatening. Slowly, you wake up more fully and are able to better take in your senses. You’re still on the couch, but laying on your back. Your head is on something soft, but not pillow-soft. A hand runs along your arm - just as it was before you fell asleep… Kai. Where’s Kai?

You try to ask for his name, but in your state, all that comes out is a whine.

Nonetheless, he answers. “Hey, are you awake?”

“Kai?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, but when did I fall asleep? Where are you?”

Eventually you’re able to pull your body up so that you’re sitting, not laying, on the couch. 

“I’m right here,” he waves to you as you reposition.

“Did I fall asleep on your lap?” The realization hits you, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. No worries, I, uh, kinda liked the contact. Like I said, I kinda lacked that for a while.”

“I know, but I would’ve asked first.”

“Technically, you did. And you can’t control being tired, it’s fine. Trust me, I don’t mind being your pillow.”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks.

“In fact, I wouldn’t argue if you wanted to lay back down, because now I’m missing it.”

That’s all the convincing you need to reassume your position in his lap. Though this time, you move your head so you’re looking up at him. “Hey, Kai?”

“Mhm?”

“I’m happy you trust me enough to be this close. I like it, too. And I like being someone you are comfortable around.”

“Me too, Y/N. Oh, and hey, I paused the tv about an hour ago because I wanted to watch it with you but you were asleep. But we’re some way through episode two.”

“I slept that long?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I’ve been on Twitter, so I haven’t been completely bored.”

“Not Tweeting pictures of me sleeping, right?” You joke with a snort.

He snaps his fingers, “aw, I should’ve! Quick, go back to sleep!”

“Hell no! The whole Twitter-World doesn’t need to see my sleeping face! Bad enough you already did!”

“Awh, what are you talking about? You have a cute sleeping face. Twitter would thank you for being able to see it.”

The blush and the butterflies return with that comment. “I-uh-thanks.”

“I’m serious!”

“I, um, uh… do you want to keep watching, or are you bored?”

“I’m down to keep watching if you are.”

“Okay, press the play button.”

“Oh, wait, wait, wait, before we do - I met Tate!”

“Oh, yes! How’d you like him?”

“He’s fun! Highly relatable all the way down to the music taste. I see why you like him.”

“See?! My friends think I’m crazy for it, but he’s such a good character. And the way he absolutely loves Violet - he’d do anything for her! I mean, yeah, he killed a bunch of kids, but I don’t know, maybe if his mother didn’t fucking abuse him, he wouldn’t have snapped the way he did.”

You see Kai’s jaw set out of the corner of your eye. “Sorry, uh, spoiler alert.”

“It’s okay. Do you really blame his mom for that?”

“I mean, yeah. Yes, he was the one to carry out the crimes, but you can only take so much hurt and abuse before you snap. Emotions fizzle out until there’s just a numb feeling, and then… well, I imagine it’s hard to make rational decisions when you feel that way for so long.” A second later, you realize you’ve been ranting. “I’m sorry, I’ve just really studied his character. Done a lot of research, including research on sociopathy, and the long-term effects of childhood abuse. Helps me understand him, and what he felt, and what caused him to snap. Sorry, I’m ranting again, oh jeez!”

“It’s okay,” Kai swallows hard, “I, uh, feels nice to be understood. For Tate, I mean.”

You stiffen. “Kai?”

“Mhm?”

“Did your parents hurt you?”

“I mean, I was isolated for a long time.”

“I know that, but…” you don’t want to say it. Don’t want to open a wound; don’t want to push him past his limits of comfort. But, you need to know. “Did they hurt you?”

A visible lump forms in his throat. “What counts as that? Cause I mean, some parents just toss their hands in the air. Some others hit with shoes, I’ve heard. Jo’s friend actually mentioned one time that they had a wooden spoon reserved for punishments.” He’s deflecting. You can’t blame him; he’s obviously been through a lot.

He rambles on like this until he meets your eyes. Tears welling, threatening to spill. A trembling lip. You know. He knows you know. 

“Yeah, sometimes, Dad would. Most of the time he’d use magic, probably just to make a point about me being the abomination that can’t do magic.”

“For what reasons? Like, what did he see as a reason to hurt you?”

“Hmm, like if I talked back, or left my room without permission, or spoke to someone outside of the coven, like a sibling’s friend or neighbor. If he were really angry, like if I siphoned a sibling, he’d get more physical. Let’s just say, there’s probably a reason everyone wore long-sleeves with band tees in the nineties. Cover up those bruises with some devil band your parents hate,” cocking his head, he adds, “which then leads to more bruises but for different reasons.” He then pauses to clear his throat. “Eventually, I learned how to siphon the magic he’d throw at me. For three days, I felt so powerful. He’d hit me with a spell, and I could absorb some of it to fire back at him. But while I got a few good licks in, it mostly just made him angrier. He started getting even more physical, and later, would only include magic once I was down and unable to think up a spell.”

“Kai-”

“And then Mom died, and he only got worse. I mean, Mom and I never had a relationship so I wasn’t particularly affected by her passing. He was, though, and he got more violent towards me. I mean, he was now single-handedly raising eight kids - he had to take his anger out on one of them. Who better than the one you already hate? Anyway, life continued. Dad got more secretive, more dangerous.” Kai actually laughs, “I even feared him a little. I didn’t know if I’d ever escape that stupid bedroom, and even if I did, he’d make my life hell. Not only that, but it felt like he was planning something. And what do you know?! He was. Right before Jo and I’s birthday, the stupid fucking coven planned their monthly meeting in our house. Directly under my bedroom. I heard them through the vent, how they weren’t going to let us merge, and how they were going to wait until Liv and Luke were twenty-two instead. I had my suspicions about this - I knew something was off about the way he was acting - but for him to break coven tradition just to prevent me from merging? Fuck him. Coven always came before family with him, but he’d break the rules because he hated me so much.” Fire dances in his eyes, but he calms down a second later. “And that night is when I snapped. Something took over and I did to my family what my Dad probably wishes he did to me the night I was born. When he came back after whatever the hell the coven had left to do, he found Jo. And from that point on, I think you know how it went.”

Some time through his story, you had sat up to face him, leaving you now right in front of him as tears roll off your cheeks. “Kai…” There’s no words for what he’s just told you. Instead, you reach forward and hug him. Your arms wrap around his waist and you bury your face into his chest. Tears continue to fall, soaking his shirt, making you cry harder. A few moments later, you feel his arms on your back and he pulls you close. 

You two stay like that for a couple minutes. It’s nice. 

“I don’t want to pull away, but I want to tell you…” he lets you lift your head to face him again. “It feels good to have told someone. Thank you for listening to me, Y/N.”

“I’m glad you told me. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

He responds by pulling you back into the hug, “so, yeah… pretty relatable, your favorite sociopath.”

“Mmmm, actually, that title belongs to you,” you lean back so he can catch your wink. 

“Honored, Miss Y/N. Should we get back to watching your, ahem, second favorite sociopath?”

“Let’s do it.”

“Pressing playyyy, now,” he drags out the ‘y’. “Oh, and don’t you dare think of letting go.” 

You look at your position. Sitting on his lap, your arms around him, his around you. Your head on his chest, and his fingers tracing your back. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#malachai parker #malachai parker x reader #kai parker x reader #tvd fanfiction #tw mention of child abuse

[tizniz]

WIP Wednesday 🌙

Tagged by @theotherbuckley who's got a lovely new idea in the works that I'm excited for :)

More of Forest Man fic because this story has me in the greatest chokehold and it isn't releasing its claws until I finish. But I'm not complaining. I am LOVING everything I am writing in this story and what's happening. Dedicated to Hippo once again. 🩵

“Because you need your car fixed.” Eddie sneers, turning around to face Buck, placing his fisted hands on his hips so he doesn’t do something stupid. “So you can leave.” “What?” Buck rocks back on his heels, blue eyes wide and hurt, “No! Eddie! I don’t—” He shakes his head, “I told you earlier, I want to be here with you.” “Well,” Eddie gestures vaguely towards the door, “You’ve got other options now. Tom seemed more than happy to take you to bed.” “I don’t want Tom!” “Then what?” A bitter laugh escapes him; he knows he’s acting based on emotions, but seeing Tom flirt so openly with Buck, seeing the way Tom had brushed Eddie off once more, after spending hours feeling seen by Buck, it had hurt. He’s hurt. And unfortunately, Buck is the only one around to take the brunt of it. “You sure as shit don’t want me.” “Why can’t I?” Buck fires back, stepping forward now, “Huh? Why can’t I want you?” “BECAUSE NO ONE WANTS ME!” “I DO!” “No,” Eddie’s voice cracks his time as he takes the step back, shaking his head, “No. You don’t. No one wants me. No one cares about me.” Buck’s face crumbles, “I get it. God, Eddie, do I get what that feels like—” “You don’t.” “Yes. I do.” The words are whispered.

NP tagging: @hippolotamus, @actualalligator, @actuallyitsellie, @disasterbuckdiaz, @spotsandsocks, @fortheloveofbuddie, @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove, @daffi-990, @jesuisici33, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @exhuastedpigeon, @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming, @monsterrae1, @epicbuddieficrecs, @elvensorceress, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @spagheddiediaz, @wildlife4life, @evanbegins, @devirnis, @loveyouanyway, @perfectlysunny02, @nmcggg, @smilingbuckley, @watchyourbuck, @loserdiaz, @excuseme-greentea, @wikiangela, @sunshinediaz, @scknight05, @dangerpronebuddie, @kitteneddiediaz, @incorrect9-1-1, @underwater-ninja-13

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #buddie wip

[i-smoke-chapstick]

hiiii! I hope you’re doing well!!

I saw the post about Gotham X readers and I was wondering if you could write a Dom!riddler x fem!sub!reader smut where he doesn’t let reader finish until she gets his riddles right and it leads to her being overstimulated?

Thanks in advance!

‘THE HILLS,

-GOTHAM!EDWARD NYGMA X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Since killing oswald, ed’s at a breaking point and needs to get his mojo back.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!riddler x female reader. smut!! pure porn, no plot. sub/dom dynamics. orgasm denial. degradation, dumbification of reader. Eddie needs to let some frustrations out. First time writing penetrative sex so hopefully it’s good! Also, thank you anon, i love this idea.

♫ “When I'm fucked up, that's the real me” The Hills by The Weeknd

Oh, he's been an absolute wreck. Ever since the falling out with Oswald, hyped on those god forsaken pills. You catch him mumbling to himself often, yelling and screaming at his reflection at night. You can hardly sleep.

He's absolutely fucked up. You can tell. You've known him forever, and you know the signs. The sweat on his brow, disheveled hair, loose tie. His hands rub together insistently, babbling on to you. He needs a nemesis, a stress reliever. He tells you about the hallucination of Oswald- he needs a replacement. Something to fuel him, make him the Riddler he knows he is.

So, you offered your...technique. It was simple- just distract him for a moment from his desperate scheming. He looked at you like you were absolutely crazy at first.

"...You want to what?" He growled out, slowly, legs sprawled across an arm chair, rubbing his temple. He looked like a mess. A hot mess.

After elaborating, he still looked at you incredulously. His mind was racing with thoughts, about how this could fix him. Before you knew it, he was gradually standing up, wrapping a hand around your throat and gently kissing you.

The soft and gentle kisses turned more and more raw. His hands gripped tight around your throat, sure to leave a mark, and he groaned as he held your leg up. You messily and hastily kissed your way to the bedroom; which is where you are now.

His suit jacket thrown on the floor, your blouse unbuttoned. You lay bare beneath him, gasping for air between hot open-mouthed kisses he lays everywhere.

"Ed-" You struggle out, feeling his fingers plunge inside you. It's a bit painful, and he only mumbles incoherently, he's in a hurry.

"SHUT up." He growls out against you, "I'm thinking."

His fingers rapidly work on you, prepping you as fast as possible. You whimper and he doesn't seem to pay any attention. When the sounds of your wet slick finally fill the room in messy, sopping noises- he looks up at you with his glasses on his face.

He raises himself up from your thighs, staring at you with a vague look of intrigue. It's a small gesture to ask if you're ready.

When you nod, he buries himself in to the crook of you're neck.

"...Wonderful." He whispers.

He finally breaks out in a shit-eating grin, giggling maniacally at your pleading writhing form.

Removing his fingers, his grin stands still, and suddenly rams his cock inside your slit.

You both let out an embarrassingly loud noise at this, his low groan filling the room as he grimaces in pleasure. You feel your eyes roll back as he rams himself into you, filling you up to the hilt. His hand grasps your neck once more, slightly choking you.

He mumbles theatrically in your ear, and you realize just why he wanted to do this.

"I can fill a room with just one heart. Others can have me, but I can't be shared," He begins, thrusting into you. He struggles to speak himself as he feels you clench around his member. "What am I?"

You want to scream at him, damn riddles. You swallow when he drags his cock along your cunt and chokes you a bit more, as to prompt an answer.

"L-love?" You stumble out, only to yelp when his face contorts into rage. His movements stop and you whine.

"What...? No." He snarls at you, and looks down on you- like your the stupidest, weakest, most pathetic thing he's ever seen. "No!?...The- the answer is loneliness?!"

He rolls his eyes, jaw clenched. He continues his degradation with another harsh squeeze to your throat and an agonizingly slow thrust.

"How do you not know that?" He taunts you, anger on his face. But you can see it in the glint of his eyes. He's enjoying this.

He huffs as his thrusts gradually slow down.

"Second." He mutters, feigning exasperation- as if dealing with you, fucking you- is the most tiresome thing in the world. As if he's so above you in every way.

"I can be a member of a group, but never blend in. What am I?" You feel your orgasm building up beside yourself- the way he's choking you out and has you going dumb around his cock.

When you feel the knot building up inside you, you don't answer- and he stops in his tracks.

"I give up!" You whine, incoherently, trying to bounce for any friction, but he has you pinned in place. Tall frame hanging over you. "I give up," You plead- and something in him snaps.

His hand shoves your neck even further in the mattress, and a loud slap rings out. You feel the burning on your cheek and look up at him stunned. It doesn't hurt too badly, and all you can do is struggle to regain your breath. You let out a deep inhale and feel his dick slip back and forth between your pussy lips.

He looks at you, a bit pitifully, and a bit disappointed- wrathful. His teeth are bared and he looks desperate.

"Answer me." He growls out in your ear, and you rack your brain for an answer.

His cock is teetering inside you, teasing you- fucking you at whichever pace he decides. It's leisurely and steady, and you swear you can feel him stretching you out beyond you thought was possible. You need more.

"An individual." You finally settle on, having vaguely read it in a riddle book when you were younger. Your words come out in a whine; and look to him for approval.

He seems a bit upset that you've answered correctly, stopping the fun. But in a huff, he praises you.

"...Good." He hisses, and decides to finally give you what you want. He gradually speeds up and your orgasm builds repeatedly, and you feel fulfilled.

Until...he stops, one last time.

You grab him by his hair, frustrated beyond belief, before he whispers.

"Call me the Riddler." Is all he says, and you look him in the eye. He's lost in pleasure too, and you can tell he's fighting for control as well. It's strangely vulnerable, and comes off as more of a plead. Desperate for release himself; as if he isn't the architect for his own frustration.

"Please," You decide to let him win, "Riddler, please...!" You breathe shakily, whining the words.

And with that, he finally lets himself go.

His hips slam into you relentlessly- chasing his own climax. It's hard and rough and fast, and his fingertips dig into your neck. He's baring his teeth again and grunting, pushing you both into the mattress. He captures your lips and tongue in a kiss when he finally spasms inside of you, both of you reaching your peak. The aftershocks hit you hard, and he buckles overtop of you, cock still twitching inside.

He collapses into your shoulder, and he's mumbling and muttering and ranting unintelligible "thank you's" and apologies for hitting you.

Funny enough, it's the most relaxed you've seen him in weeks.

#x reader #gotham x reader #gotham #batman #batman rogues #edward nygma #gotham villains x reader #batman rouges gallery #batman x reader #batman rouges #gotham edward #gotham edward nygma #edward nygma x reader #gotham riddler #gotham riddler x reader #riddler x reader #the riddler x reader #the riddler #edward nygma gotham #the riddler smut #edward nygma smut #edward nygma x reader smut #the riddler x reader smut #gotham edward nygma smut #gotham riddler smut #gotham villains smut #gotham villains #gotham smut #gotham preferences

[vodika-vibes]

Hehehehe… Okay, you said it would be cool to send in another request, and after the Jesse fic which was absolutely fluffy and squeal worthy, I’m sending in another.

White Tulip and Yellow Orchid

You break up with Fox, and it’s taking a toll on the both of you. It was hard enough when you found out Fox cheated, but somehow it’s even harder not being around each other in a relationship.

I don’t know something along those lines; maybe realizing they are better suited as friends with th hope for more or maybe Fox realizing you deserve better… I’m just spitballing. Anyhew … love oo

Regrets

Summary: You break up with Fox, and both of you are suffering for it.

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 1724

Prompts: White tulip - new beginnings, Yellow Orchid - Forgiveness

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So, I ended up having to change some things from your request to make it something that I'm able to write. Turns out cheating is an unforgivable hardline for me, which is good to know about myself. So I ended up completely dumping that plot idea for something else. I hope you don't mind.

You don’t look up when the chair across from you slides away from the table. You already have a good idea of who’s going to be sitting there.

“Are you here to yell at me too, Commander?” You ask as you pour some more sugar into your caf, take a sip, grimace, and then add even more sugar. It already tastes like caf flavored sugar, but you need the extra energy. Even if it’s cheap energy.

“Buy me a Caf,” Commander Wolffe says, his dark eyes serious as he looks at you, “And something to eat. We need to talk.”

You lift your gaze and scowl at him, but you pull out your credit chit and set it in his hand, “Order what you like, I suppose.”

Wolffe nods and heads to the counter, only to return several minutes later with a large caf and a breakfast sandwich. He hands you your credit chit back as he takes a seat.

You shift and rest your chin on the palm of your hands, “Alright. Lay it on me.”

Wolffe arches a brow, “You expecting something from me?”

“Thorn, Thire, and Stone have already come to yell at me, and they’re not Fox’s twin. You are. So,” you gesture vaguely, “Go ahead. Start yelling.”

“I’m not going to yell at you, sen’ika.” Wolffe says quietly.

“Well, that’s a first.” You mutter.

“I don’t kick people when they’re down.” He continues, his sharp eyes lingering on the dark circles under your eyes, and the sheer amount of sugar you’re adding to your caf. “That’s going to taste awful.”

“Meh.”

“Sen’ika,” He says slowly, quietly, “You’re clearly miserable-”

“I’m fine.” You interrupt.

“You’re not.” There’s a firmness in his voice that stops you from arguing back. “When was the last time you went home?”

“Last night.”

“And slept more than an hour or two?” He asks with a pointed look. 

You look away from him, “It’s…not important.”

“Sen’ika,” His voice is so gentle, “Why did you break up with Fox?”

Your hands fold into fists, “Maybe I was cheating on him. Maybe I wasn’t happy.”

“You might be able to pull the shit with other people,” Wolffe says quietly, “But I saw how happy you and Fox were together. And I know you would never cheat on him. So try again.”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I…I refuse to be another burden on him.” You admit quietly.

“Elaborate.”

“You don’t see him after work, Wolffe. He’s so tired. All of the time and some of the bruises and scars…” You trail off, “He was happy with me, yes, but having to hide me from everyone? For my own protection? It was wearing him down. And I can’t, won’t, do that to him.”

“He’s miserable.”

“I know.”

“You’re miserable.”

“I know.”

Wolffe is quiet for a moment, “Is there nothing I can say to make you change your mind?”

“I will not let him kill himself for me.” You say quietly, “And if that means that I’m on the shitlist for every single member of the guard…then so be it.”

Wolffe doesn’t say anything for a long time, and then he sighs, “I’ll talk to the guard. Tell them to lay off.” He stands and drops a light kiss to the top of your head, “Fox loves you,” He says quietly, “He’s never going to stop loving you. You should at least give him a choice.”

“He’d pick-”

“You. Always you. And we both know it.” He pulls away, “Just think about it, alright? Thanks for the food.” And then Wolffe is gone.

You cast your gaze back to your caf, sigh, and add some more sugar.

Even if you want to talk to Fox, it’ll never happen. Thorn made that plenty clear the other day. And then Thire made it clear later when he came to yell at you on your way home. 

You sigh at your caf, and then you pick it up and down half of it, before you make a face.

Gross.

About a week later, you’re at home, trying to clean up the mess that your house has turned into since you haven’t had energy, or frankly, the will to keep up with it.

According to everything you’ve ever read in your life, time is supposed to heal all wounds, but you’re starting to wonder if that was just something that people said to give themselves hope.

Because you aren’t healing.

In fact, you feel worse than ever.

Bad enough that you’re starting to wonder if you’re actually sick, because a broken heart (a self-inflicted broken heart even) shouldn’t hurt this much, right?

You’re so involved in your cleaning that you don’t hear the knock on the door at first. It’s not until the doorbell rings, startling you bad enough that your vacuum falls from your hands, that you realize you have company.

You look at the mess that is your home and sigh. Maybe they won’t want to come inside?

Carefully, because you had the genius idea of dumping everything you own in the middle of the living room so you can organize it properly, you step over the piles of stuff to get to the door. 

You press the door control to open the door, “Yes? Can I hel-” You stop mid-sentence when you see who’s standing there. “...Fox. Um…I mean, Commander.”

He looks…pissed.

“Let me in.” He bites out.

“We’re not dating anymore, Commander. You can’t order your way into my home.” You offer as you avert your gaze from his face. More than just angry, he looks tired. About as tired as you feel, really.

You hear him exhale sharply, “You’re wearing my shirt, cyare.” Even his voice is tight with anger, “Let me in.”

You glance down at the shirt, his shirt, that you are wearing, and you silently move to the side. “...sorry about the mess.”

“What mes-” He stops as soon as he steps into your apartment, and his jaw drops, “Holy kriff, did a bomb go off in your living room?”

You fold your arms, “I’m deep cleaning.”

“By making a bigger mess?”

“I have a system.”

“Is it working?”

You scowl at him, “I’ll let you know.”

He glances at you, and his lips twitch up into a small smile, before he looks away, as if suddenly remembering that he’s supposed to be angry at you. You avert your eyes as well, it’s easy, far too easy, to fall back into easy bantering with Fox.

You broke up with him.

You told him that you weren’t happy anymore.

You have no right to his time or his smiles.

“I had a chat with Wolffe.”

Oh. 

“He told me something interesting.”

Kriff. You should have sworn Wolffe to secrecy. 

“You broke up with me because you wanted to protect me?” There’s a strange mix of emotions in his voice. Anger, yes. There’s a lot of anger. But there’s also hurt, and something you recognize as affection.

“Wolffe is a kriffing snitch,” You mutter.

“Yeah, well. Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to confide in my twin,” Fox points out, “And then he wouldn’t have snitched on you.”

You purse your lips, “See if I ever buy him breakfast again.”

“He came to stop the Guard from harassing you,” Fox says, “I didn’t know that they were harassing you.”

“It’s…fine. I deserved it.”

“You didn’t.”

You sigh and turn your gaze to him, “Why are you here, Fox?”

“Because I love you.”

“That’s-”

He presses a finger against your lips, “Stop and listen.” Fox waits a moment, and as soon as he realizes that you’re going to do as he asks, he adjusts his hand so that his thumb is brushing against your lips. “I love you and I’m not going to give up on us simply because you think you’re a burden.”

“I am a burden. I saw how exhausted you were-”

“I’m more exhausted now.” Fox counters sharply. “Because I’m still trying to keep you safe, only now I have to do it in secret!”

“I never asked-” You start.

“You never had to. It’s what you do when you love something.”

“Fox-”

“I know you think that you’re a burden to me. And I know I’m so tired all of the time, and I know you worry about me all of the time.” Fox says, “But I love you. And you don’t get to decide what’s best for me. Only I get to choose that, and you’re what’s best for me.”

“Fox-,” You repeat his name, feeling tears pricking your eyes.

“I’m happier when I’m with you. You give me a reason to want to wake up in the morning.”

“I hurt you.”

“And I forgive you.”

“Just like that? You were so angry-”

“Of course I was! You broke up with me after deciding what was best for me! I’m pissed about it!” Fox bites out, “But I still love you and I’m willing to accept the fact that you did this because you were worried about me.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Fox repeats, he searches your face, and apparently finds what he’s looking for there, “Cyare, do you still love me?”

“...of course I do.”

“Be my girlfriend again?” Fox asks, “Please. We can start over if you really think we have to. I just…let me be a part of your life. I need you in my life.”

You sigh, softly. How could you say no to that? To him?

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll be your girlfriend again.”

“Oh thank kriff,” Fox blurts as he presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, “Can we take a kriffing nap, I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks.”

You glance at the pile of stuff on the floor of the living room, and then turn your guilty gaze on Fox, “I think my comforter is in the mess.”

Fox glances at the pile of stuff, and then shakes his head, “No matter.” He carefully scoops you into his arms and steps over the stuff, before he heads into the bedroom and drops you on the bed, before he curls up against you, “Sleep first, everything else later.”

You tuck your head against his chest, and he folds himself around you. And you’re both asleep in a matter of moments.

#star wars #tcw #vodika-vibes follower celebration #commander fox x reader #fox x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

[mitsvriii]

If you're taking requests, could you do Lyney fluff? With the reader as traveler and they aren't exactly dating but there's mutual attraction, but no one confessed yet. Basically Lyney has the day off and the traveler is still new to Fontaine so they finish mapping it out and he tags along. Like a vague telling of doing commissions, underwater exploration even, and going back to the city at the end of the day all filled with romantic tension( like butterflies n stuff). The entire thing is just very general fluff, so like some specific moments in the day where they were like this close 🤏 from just leaning in. And it ends with the two about to confess but Lynette shows up out of nowhere and is like "am I interrupting?".

Exploring (feelings)

Pairing: Lyney x Traveler!reader

Reader type: Any

Content: Fluff

Word Count: 712

Triggers: none

Extra: My requests are always open unless I’ve said otherwise :), I love this idea sm, shorter than I would like but it is 11:35 pm rn, reader’s kinda in their Adrein Agreste era, not proofread

“So after we get done with this location where do we go next?

Lyney voiced the question as you continued to fill out your growing map of Fontaine. You and Paimon had opted to go and explore Fontaine after the duration of trails you had.

Lyney had spotted you two and had opted to tag along, since it was his day off. You didn’t seem to mind as you agreed to his offer, both of you going on a long trip around the main areas of Fontaine.

You had completed your commissions with the help of Lyney. Surprisingly enough he seemed to be skilled with a bow and arrow, along with some flames from his hat.

Getting some teleport waypoints, to which you had to explain to Lyney what they were, you both had cleared half of the map. All that was left was to get one last underwater waypoint.

Apparently Lyney was just as skilled as his brother in swimming because he made sure to spin and do tricks for you when you both ventured underwater the first time.

He had picked a bouquet of underwater flowers for you, and you had to hide your face in them to cover up your blush. Paimon had caught the gentle pink dusting your cheeks, however, before you could hide it.

You were honestly surprised she hadn’t blabbered about your on-growing crush about Lyney yet. He was being cheekier than usual with his teases and gestures. He even went as far as to go get a waypoint for you so you wouldn’t have to “stress your pretty legs for such a silly thing”.

Getting the waypoint underwater, you decided that it was enough progress for today and walked tiredly back into the somewhat city with Lyney.

“Say why don’t I treat you to dinner? My treat after you did so much work today”, Lyney spoke gently as he flipped around a card or two in his hands.

“That would be great!” You jumped a little at Paimon’s quick reply. Giving her a slight glare you glanced at Lyney.

“Yeah, if you want to.”

Tucking away the card to who-know-where Lyney grabbed your hand and started to lead you to what you presumed would be the cafe.

After walking for a bit more, Lyney guided you to an outdoor table with an umbrella, “Here sit.” He pulled back a chair for you, “I’ll go order.”

You stretched as you go comfortable in the chair, eyes trailing to watch Lyney order. Paimon fortunately seemed too invested in the smell of food to notice your staring.

As soon as Lyney turned to go sit with you, your gaze snapped to the table. Seemingly trying to play it off you were interrupted by Lyney’s voice.

“Are you okay? If you’re not feeling well I can get it for takeout.”

You shook your head, “I’m good, just spaced out.”

You gave him a small smile and he returned it as he sat down. A somewhat comfortable silence surpassed over the two of you as you waited on the food.

You didn’t even need to tell Lyney what to order you because he had already memorized it for some reason. Maybe he just had go memory skills. It wasn’t long before your food arrived and you all started to eat.

Paimon excused herself to leave, most likely to go rest on a bench from all of the food she ate. Leaving just you and Lyney.

“Y’know watching you today was better than one of my own performances if I do say so myself.”

“Oh, thanks”, your cheeks turned slightly red again.

“If..if you have time maybe we could do that again sometime?”

You glanced up at Lyney. Was he proposing a date? Before you could reply someone cleared their throat from beside you.

You jumped as Lyney sighed in somewhat irritation.

“Hello Lynette”, Lyney emphasized her name as he stared at the monotonous girl.

“Am I interrupting something? Sorry, the crew needs you back at the theater, a prop broke.”

Another sigh from Lyney, “Right, right. We’ll talk later, hm?”

You nodded as you met Lyney’s slightly pink-purple gaze. He gave you a curt tip of his hat before he left with Lynette. You yourself sighed at the current change of things.

Standing up, a card slipped from your seat. You picked it up and it revealed that it was the queen of hearts.

Huh, so he did mean a date.

#genshin lyney #lyney fluff #lyney x reader #lyney and lynette #lynette #lynette genshin #lyney x you #genshin impact #genshin fluff #fontaine #fontaine x reader

[poorlittlegreenie13]

Part 1/2 of a fic I wrote for @oblivionsdream based on their enchanting Jester x Knight pairing that I'm obsessed with. Can't think of a title... maybe for part two.

(The idea for this spawned from @oblivionsdream posting "Jester has also been present for a few of the injuries and in one case where they were both away from the castle he did his best to tend to the knights injuries himself" and I was like 'oooo I want to write that!' but then I needed to write the backstory of it and then somehow it was 1.5k words and I needed to sleep, so part two will incorporate the above quote ^)

Fic below the cut! Very vaguely suggestive language & flirting but nothing explicit or sexual.

There is not, strictly speaking, a good reason for the Jester to be tagging along on the King’s Guard’s latest mission out of the city. He basically invited himself, pleading with the King for a week and a half—following him down the corridors or pestering him while he oversaw the knights sparring in the courtyard—before he agreed.

“I could boost morale!” the Jester insisted one sunny afternoon, eyes flicking quickly over to the knight closest to him, definitely within earshot. Even with all the identical sets of armor in the courtyard, the knight with the white feather in his helmet (the knight the Jester had subconsciously begun to think of as his), was easily recognizable. “You know,” the Jester continued, eyeing the Knight as he spoke, “I could… entertain the troops.”

The Jester swore the visor of the Knight’s helmet tilted ever-so-slightly towards him at that. He grinned, and the King rolled his eyes. 

“Why don’t you ask your knights if you’re not convinced?” the Jester suggested innocently, darting between his Knight and the squire he was sparring with. “He wants me to come,” he added, attempting to keep up with the Knight’s quick movements. “Don’t you?”

“Get out of the way before you get knocked out,” the Knight said ruefully. The Jester laughed, flitting around to the Knight’s opposite side—closer to the hand not holding a massive sword. 

“Tell the King you want me on your quest,” the Jester urged, smiling wickedly as the Knight’s guard dropped ever-so-slightly, his visor-covered-eyes fixing on the Jester. The squire he was sparring with got dangerously close to getting a blow in before the Knight blocked. “Come on, I know you do,” the Jester taunted. 

The Knight swapped his sword to his left hand, seamlessly blocking an attempted blow by the squire while not breaking eye contact (or, well, visor contact, really) with the Jester. The Jester made a mental note of the Knight’s apparent ambidexterity, which was ridiculously, unfairly attractive. As if the Knight wasn’t attractive enough already. 

“You really have no business anywhere near a battlefield,” the Knight said.

The Jester rolled his eyes, darting back to the Knight’s non-sword side. “I won’t be near the battlefield,” he insisted, “I’ll just stay in your chambers and patiently wait for you to get back. Polish your armor. Help you relax after your long day.” He gave a small smile, letting his voice trail off suggestively and looking up at the Knight through his lashes. 

The Knight stared at the Jester for a moment too long, and the squire’s practice-sword connected with his breastplate with a loud ding. 

The Knight swore under his breath, retaliating against the squire with perhaps slightly more aggression than was strictly necessary for a practice duel. 

The Jester looked back at the King, who was watching the events with a bemused smile. 

“I’m not convinced,” the King said. “Seems like you’re distracting him.”

“I’m motivating him!” the Jester insisted. “Look how well he’s doing!”

He gestured to the Knight, who was beating the squire back with renewed annoyance. 

“Hm,” the King said, watching the Knight for a moment. “I’ll consider.”

*****

Two days later, the Jester was packed and ready, sidling up to the departing group of Knights with his multi-colored carpetbag in one hand, and a snack for the road in the other. 

The Knight, his knight, was tacking up his horse, a huge chestnut colored stallion with a feather that matched the Knight’s decorating its bridal. 

“Go on,” the King said, nodding bemusedly towards the party of knights. “You can ride with Sir Augustine, he has the biggest horse.”

“Among other things, I’m sure,” the Jester said lowly. 

The Knight turned sharply to look at him. The Jester’s breath caught. The Knight’s visor was up, dark brown eyes locking on the Jester’s. 

The Jester might’ve actually said fuck out loud. He’s not sure. 

The Knight snapped his visor down, familiar metal obscuring the warmth of his gaze. 

“Jester is with you,” the King said, stepping between the Knight and the Jester, looking between them with an amused smile. 

“Surely we can spare a fifth horse,” the Knight said, sounding slightly choked. 

“I don’t know how to ride,” the Jester said innocently, having recovered quickly enough from his momentary loss of composure. “Horses, that is.”

The Knight inhaled audibly. The Jester smiled. 

“Godspeed,” the King said, his smile turning resigned as he started back towards the castle. 

The Knight just kept staring at the Jester, even as he looked around, scanning the other knights and squires on the journey with them. 

“You really don’t know how to ride a horse?” the Knight said finally, his voice sounding ridiculously soft considering the battle armor it was coming out of.

“Never learned,” the Jester said truthfully. “My carriage rides are always paid for.”

“Of course,” the Knight said, a familiar note of bitter professionalism sliding back into his voice. “Well, right foot in the stirrup.”

“Er, right,” the Jester said, hesitating. “Which one is the stirrup?”

“Gods’ sakes,” the Knight muttered, and with absolutely no warning or preamble, brought his hands to either side of the Jester’s waist and lifted him off his feet as if he weighed nothing. 

It would’ve been infuriating if it wasn’t so enchanting. 

“Excuse me—” the Jester began, but the Knight set him onto the horse before he could finish his sentence. 

“No time to teach you,” the Knight said, stepping into what the Jester now, belatedly, recognized as a stirrup and mounting the horse behind where the Jester was sitting. He reached around the Jester on either side, taking up the reins and silently nudging the horse into motion. 

“We ride North until dawn,” the Knight said to the other riders behind them. “Then we break for the night and bear south in the morning.”

The Jester smiled to himself slightly as he realized the Knight was sitting up pin straight, leaning slightly back, avoiding all physical contact with him. A challenge. 

“You can’t sit like that all day,” he whispered, turning his head to lean closer to the Knight’s helmet-covered ear.

“This is how I always sit,” the Knight said. 

“Is it really?” the Jester asked, leaning back ever-so-slightly. Enough to brush against the Knight’s chest. 

The Knight inhaled again, that soft, sharp sound that the Jester was beginning to strive for. He arched his back slightly, wiggling his hips. 

“Stop that,” the Knight said.

“Stop what?” the Jester asked. 

“You’re— you know what,” the Knight hissed. 

“Honestly, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the Jester said innocently, pushing his hips back once more. 

In a singular, fluid movement, the Knight took one hand off the reins and brought it to the Jester’s waist, squeezing slightly, though not hard enough to be anywhere near uncomfortable. Warmth bloomed beneath the touch, and the Jester grinned. 

“Stop moving,” the Knight said, lowly, close to his ear. 

“Just relax,” the Jester said. “Stop sitting like you’re scared you’ll catch something if you touch me.”

“I’m not scared,” the Knight said crossly. His hand was still on the Jester’s waist, squeezing slightly as he spoke. 

“If you’d rather I ride with someone else,” the Jester said, “I’d be happy to take my chances finding another knight.”

“No,” the Knight said immediately, too quickly, hand tightening on the Jester’s waist. 

The Jester felt himself blush, and bit back a smile. “Fine,” he said, “if you insist.”

The Knight sighed in what sounded like annoyance, then shifted in the saddle slightly, pressing his chest to the Jester’s back and winding one arm fully around his waist. 

“Happy?” he asked.

“Yes, actually,” the Jester said, definitely blushing now at the feeling of the Knight’s arm around him, and the faint smell of saddle leather and sweat in the air around them. 

“Good,” the Knight said contentedly, settling into the saddle slightly more. 

As they rode through the day, he would occasionally tighten his arm around the Jester’s waist, pulling him into his chest protectively in what the Jester was almost certain was a subconscious move. Not that he was complaining. The Knight’s chest was ridiculously comfortable, despite the armor separating them. Comfortable enough to lull the Jester into a trace, nearer and nearer to sleep the more miles they covered.  

As the sky darkened, the Jester felt his eyes drifting shut, head falling backwards onto the Knight’s shoulder. He snapped back awake, stopping himself before he could truly fall asleep.

“Go ahead,” the Knight said. 

“What, so I can fall off the horse and you can laugh at me?” the Jester asked, raising an eyebrow. “I think I’ll stay awake.”

“You won’t fall,” the Knight said. And then quickly, into the silence, “I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

It was the Jester’s turn to exhale in surprise. He leaned back hesitantly, exhaustion pulling at him. Since when was riding horses so tiring?

“That’s it,” the Knight murmured, a self-satisfied smile evident in his voice, the thumb of the hand resting on the curve of the Jester’s waist rubbing absently over the thin fabric of his traveling shirt. 

The Jester’s stomach swooped. He was blushing, he knew, again. 

“So chivalric,” he murmured, and then fell asleep in the Knight’s arms.

#jingley menace #foolknight #jester x knight

[imaginesofeverykind]

Witches Brew ~ Chapter 1

Warnings: HEAVY mentions of blood/gore, magic described as visceral, catholic-centric monotheism demonised, gore themes, Aegon being the epitome of ‘omg i’ll do whatever except tell mum’, Body horror, 18+ Minors DNI

Tags: DnD-Esque style AU, Targaryens aren't royalty but they are Noblefolk, some things are purposefully vague :S :S

Chapter Song: Go Tell Aunt Rhody (RE7 soundtrack) - Michael A. Levine, Jordan Reyne

Summary: To practice magic is to slight God with the devil's embrace. It is evil, sin, consuming and the price one pays is never worth what one seeks. Yet people, in times of desperation often turn to desperate measures, in Aegon’s case, medicinal remedy is not an option. No healer can undo what has been done. But the Hag tucked away behind reeds, water topped with algae and the voracious bog may be able to. For a price.

Word Count: 3.8k

Series Masterlist

Vicious rapping squanders the peace and quiet of a relatively silent part of the swamp. Moonlight splits off, cutting through the canopy of overgrowth that shields a peculiar abode entangled within the trunk of an elder tree. The crickets sing among the toads’ baritone croaks until they cease, abiding by the loud pounding on the wooden door that barely stays on its hinges, splintering from wood rot.

”Please!”

A guttural plea, desperation lingering atop the vowels. No one ever came to the decrepit hut unless they were on the brink, teetering the veil of life, quite literally on death's door. But death hardly answered, in its wake, oftentimes stood you; for those who braved the trek.

He had almost given up, muscles begging him for rest, for a modicum of reprieve from the toil it took just to arrive at the steps of a stranger's hut. The weight, the pain, it was enough to finally buckle his shaky grime covered knees, splinters embedded themselves into the palms of his hands the moment his hands hit the wood beneath him. 

“I need —,” a whimper, is all that managed to escape his throat. His eyes flickered to the body beside him — not body, he wasn’t dead yet — to his brother laying beside him, laboured breaths that sucked through his barred teeth in discomfort. 

Lips curled into a snarl, he brought his fist down on the decking one final time, “open the door you fucking wretch!” 

He nearly cowered when the door yanked open, yellow light spilling out into the dark bog from the hearth that roared inside. No one stood in the frame of the door, no one beckoned him inside the derelict home and despite this, he rose to his feet, scraping his newly acquired trousers. There was little energy left in him, just enough to drag the mauled body of his brother - one that inched closer to the afterlife - over the threshold of the hut.

”Sit.” 

He spun on his feet, nearly tripping over the pile of wood stacked beside the hearth when his eyes landed on you, who had appeared, simply materializing from nothing. It was only mere seconds until he was set on you again, a frantic torment that willed him near you, “Hag, you must help him!” Despite his weary disposition, he demanded help.

A nobleman. You think, taking his appearance in. Both men donned the same white hair, similarly crafted attire that screamed wealth and you are automatically aware of who was inside your abode. The township off the Kings Road comes to your mind, owned by a Lord as it had been for the past century.

”Well?! Must I get on my knees?” He was angry, that much was clear, but he was more afraid above all.

You waved dismissively, though not toward the stranger, the Lordling. The table of apothecary jars and dissected creatures vanish, though they never are truly gone, and you gesture for the man to place his injured companion. He’s confused at first, most people are when they come to you. Magic was no longer what it was, you could feel it wane the harder religion sought to destroy it. He most likely has never seen it this close.

But he silently obeys, with great effort hauling his brother up on the table and like you had before, appeared behind him as silently as the fog that began to seep through the crack beneath the door. He flinched away instantly, you fought back a sly smirk but your focus was on the man with long matted locks. The hair was a brilliant white, the same as his brothers, identical as the Lord of the closest settlement, but it was marred with the crimson syrup of blood.

You bring a finger to his mutilated face, your pointed nails more akin to talons than that of humans, they threaten to crack the white porcelain of his skin. Swiping a long line down, coating the pads of your fingertips in blood and bringing it to your mouth for a taste. Bitter. The able bodied man recoiled at the sight, but you pay him no mind as you examine the injured one.

His eye was gone. That was a shame. You were fond of eyes as payment.

”Can you heal him?” The man beside you asked, voice small, almost childlike and feeble. ”Name your price, make him whole again and I’ll — I’ll give you whatever you want. Fix him.” His anguish raked through your ears and rattled against your mind like razor sharp teeth, your neck instinctively lolling from left to right as if to ward off the discomfort that followed.

”They’ll know.” You answer cryptically, caressing the side of the younger man's face much like a mother would when tucking in a babe for the evening.

“Can. You. Fix. Him?” His patience was wearing thin.

You sigh, turning to face him properly for the first time since he arrived. Violet eyes. Magic touched his very heritage and yet his own kin sought to erase it, the irony was not lost on you. “He will be different.” You say as a warning, a politeness he certainly didn’t deserve yet you gave it anyway.

Anger overcame him, outstretching his hands and coiling his fingers around the scruff of your filthy dress to yank you toward him. You happen to catch the brief glint of silver, but you had caught it, the blade with your hand wrapping around it to stop it from piercing your chest. Not that it would have damaged your heart, you wonder if his intent was to scare or if he simply forgot which side the human heart resided.

The blade cut through your skin, rivers of red beginning to run down your wrist. The pain is welcome.

“Fix him. Or else I’ll drag you to Oldtown where you can burn in the circle you filthy animal.” 

Animal. As if you were no longer good enough to be likened to a person, a human person capable of human things. ‘They fear what they cannot control,’ the voice is recalled into your mind, a vague memory of the past resurfacing as though it meant to reassure you.

Your lips twist into an awry smirk, and the second he blinks you have once again dissolved through his hands like an apparition. Reappearing by his brother's side, sliced hand outstretched to let your own blood drip tantalizingly slow over the unconscious man’s face.

In your other hand is a surprisingly ornate steel flask, an eyesore amongst the natural clutter. Whatever liquid you have delicately poured down the man’s throat is sanguine, syrupy thick like honey. You sense there is something not quite right mere seconds before the man begins to convulse violently, gasping for air that he cannot breathe.

”What have you done?!” Nostrils flared and ire rising, the able bodied one charged toward you like a boar gone rabid. 

You grew tired of his impetulant outbursts, whispering a soft incantation with hurried hand flourishes and his movements ceded. Burnt into the wooden boards around his feet, still smoking with specks of orange embers were runes, etched into a circle. Something felt off, the air reeked of acrid mildew mixed with copper and you knew instantly what triggered the reaction.

Ignoring the binded man’s threats you let the magic sing to you, caress you, consume you while softly speaking in a forgotten and forbidden tongue.

The windows and door fly open, inviting in a malstrom of wind, tempestuous and bludgeoning, the centre it wishes to converge is at the body on the table still choking, still clawing at himself for air. His spirit dwindles at every garbled breath but you sense his will and you could feel his fight, he was a warrior through and through even in the face of imminent mortal peril. Not many of those who seek you, offer the same resoluteness. 

The older brother is driven to shield his face from the vacuum of wind battering him against the unseen magical force which keeps him in place. Fear was evident in his eyes, perhaps even a touch of regret and guilt though you don’t linger too long as you shout a final mantra, holding both your forearms with formidable strength that is unbroken until the last word passes your lips, you break your grasp.

And then suddenly, the gale force of destruction dissipates.

Silence follows. And you are sat beside the young brother, placing a paste across the part of his face which had been torn away viciously. “What attacked him?” It was the first time you had spoken so directly, but it was because you knew the answer, the nobleman before you couldn’t possibly know what lurked through the mangroves and stalked beneath the stillwater.

He doesn’t appear to comprehend the question at first, muttering to himself a litany of false truths to explain what had happened right in front of him. His very own trembling brings him back from his prison of thoughts as his gaze lifts cautiously to meet yours, “a Direwolf.”

“How did you know it was a Direwolf?” You ask instantly, predicting that he would say as much. No matter, you step over to the cabinet that housed jars filled with all sorts of assorted components for potion making or spell casting, the moon light coming through the window casting an eerie shadow on the workspace.

”What else do you call a giant fucking wolf, what does it matter?” He grew restless again.

You dripped a small phial of black liquid into the mortar filled with other ingredients with great haste, eyes curiously peering out the window looking at the moon as you grimly sigh and mix together what’s been obtained. “It matters,” you grit, trying to grind the remainder of the paste, “the difference between a Direwolf and what attacked him is an exceptionally vindictive blood curse.”

He blinked at you, “what?”

You discard the mortar and cross the room swiftly, shelves littered with bones, glowing rocks and a variety of ceremonial looking daggers. Though magic and its very history were being erased by the ‘new god’, you still hoped those within the settlement weren’t entirely sheltered. 

“He will know no master lest it is the moon, he will know no anger stronger than wrath, he will know only pain and isolation.”

The expression that fell across his face told you all that was needed; He understood fully what was at stake, just as you had moments before. Though his resolve hardened and he met your gaze once more, “cure him. Whatever it takes, I do not care!” Both of you knew he was in no position to demand, not when he was still held in place by unseen magic and you had proven many times how easily it was to simply disappear.

And that is what you did, if only briefly, shooting him a coy smile before vanishing and leaving him in ruination for the moment. In the silence, forced to look at his brother made his lip tremble. He hoarsely called out to him, shaky words choking in half sobs to beckon him awake and rip him from unconsciousness to no avail.

”He’s not here,” You softly say, causing him to jump when you reappear and brush past him. “His soul is in limbo, he won’t hear you.” But I can, you think, the energy sings to your soul in a gentle hymn and your blood sings back to it. In your hand a lock of silver hair clasped in your fist, having come from where you disappeared to, though it caused immediate alarm for the man. 

He pointed a finger at your hand and grimaced, his bottom lip still trembling but no longer from hopelessness. Though he doesn’t ask the question out loud, you know what he’s thinking and you were certain he wouldn’t like the answer regardless of how you explained it.

“Whatever it takes,” you gently repeated his words and it was enough to silence him, for far longer than you thought was possible. Though the silence was welcomed, encouraging concentration while you handled the spellcraft with the care and love that had been taught to you. The woman in your memory that provided warmth and affection was not your mother by blood and yet she lived through your very essence as if she were.

She was there with every spell, whispering gently and coaxing a power buried deep within you. She was in the walls of the hut, imbuing you with much needed protection from creatures and men. And she was here, watching you through omniscient delight as you dedicated part of your essence to a stranger and his injured brother.

The serenity only just takes the edge of tension away, as if you weren’t tending to the impossible feat of near resurrection and stitching a man whole together once more. Life was fragile, mortality was inevitable even to those who yearn against it but magic could manipulate it enough even if it took great energy. It wasn’t without drawbacks, though. Transactional in nature, to undo what has been done required blood magic, the type of magic you were versed well in but it almost always came with consequence.

’What is taken, must be given back’ the words of your ‘mother’ echoed superfluously everytime your duty required meddling with the laws of nature. Perhaps that was why many travelers or townsfolk revered you as a hag, if not for the way you dressed or looked or lived, then for your duty as an indiscriminate arbiter of unfairness and misfortune.

Magic was fair, balanced and it obeyed karmic laws, this was why you cradled such energy. Life was not, it was often unfair and that much had been made clear the moment your real mother left you in a swamp to be taken by whatever monsters prowled in search for their next meal.

So you do what needed to be done - if only a little self serving to you personally but - you give back the injured man what had been clawed away and take something from his family locked away in their fortress within the walls of their beloved township. Not without a final twist in the knife for the older brother who demanded your help many hours ago. Appearing beside him like a shade, gripping his wrist abruptly and slicing a line across his palm to draw blood.

He attempted to fight back but he was bound, he could only wince and complain while you squeezed the blood into a medium phial. When you had finished, he snatched his hand back, holding it to his chest as if to soothe the pain and grimaced at you almost childishly, “you could’ve asked.”

A faint smile tickles the corner of your lips, though it was no matter of if his words were amusing or his mannerism when he calmed down were fascinating, there was still a task at hand. 

The final part of the brutal rite fell appropriately on the witching hour, where the crow sings thrice while the moon is still high. To complete everything, you dropped several dribbles of the brother's blood into the injured’s mouth and finished off your words of sacrilege.

”He will recover,” You announce, finally after what seemed like hours upon hours of the sounds of your transfixed mumblings and careful spell work.

The man hadn’t heard you at first, in fact he had barely registered the runic circle by his feet had disappeared quite some time ago which meant he was no longer bound in place yet he still remained as if he were. But the only thing that broke him from his trance had been the shallow breath followed by his younger brother lurching forward in a confused panic.

No longer was his face torn, eye gouged, the only indication of that was the faint pink scar that remained. His eyes — both, set on you and he surged forward straight toward your neck. Not that you could blame him for being in such a state, though it would be rather humorous to allow him to indulge in his urges and let him throttle you, you step out of his reach like an alluring treat that only served to frustrate him.

The older one flung himself forward, fretting over the younger and the tension immediately dispersed into quaint relief. Though it lasted no longer than a matter of moments, chaos stalked the two like they were messengers from the god of chaos himself, the energy between them repelling from one another like static in a storm. You could merely watch on in light amusement at the bickering duo.

“— I already think so low of you and yet you exceed expectations once more. Bringing me to this devil whisperer's den?!”

”Well I was simply not going to bring you home marked and dying!”

“If you must lie that you care for me dear brother, at least have the conviction to not pretend you had my interests at heart when we both know you wish to save your skin. Now I have to explain to mother why I stench of sin.”

You laughed, quite loudly it had broken the two from grappling one another to look over. The glimpses of lives you often see when people stop by are often times quite enlightening, just as it appeared in the present between two quarrelling brothers. One who thirsts for recognition and appreciation while the other wishes to disappear and fade to obscurity.

“Do we amuse you, hag?” The younger ones eyes set on you, his grimace was apparent as he did little to hide his contempt.

“Quite.” You hum, barefoot toes curling into the splintered wood while thinking aimlessly. No words followed, not when your gaze cast on the elder who had gone a shade lighter in his face, his limbs beginning to quake and tremble. Cracked lips curling into a smile as you watch him collapse to the floor, writhing in what one could assume was unrelenting pain, the type of pain that embedded itself into a person.

“Aegon — Brother!” The younger falls to his brothers side and you watch curiously, how interesting the dynamic was between the brothers. Their resentment ran deep yet there was still a matter of love beneath it, a bond that weaved itself between them despite such obtuse differences.

The younger was furious, shooting his deadly gaze at you with nostrils flared and he lunged at you, this time for mere entertainment, you let his hands wrap around your neck and press you hard against the cabinet. “You fucking monster! What have you done to me! To him?!” He spat, rightfully so, you thought that someone as pious as him would befall such a fate, though from the little information you’ve gathered on the two, Aegon — as you now know him — did not share such piety.

A weary smirk pulled at the corner of your lips, choking out, “I am no monster, little lordling though it pleases me so, to bestow a mark on your family who seeks to reject their very own heritage.” 

The screams and pleas of Aegon in the background fuelled this one’s anger, “we’ll have you burnt for that —“ His hands tighten their grip, leaving you to his mercy for now in his hands like a ragdoll force to move at his whim, jerking you forward and then slamming you back into the cabinet. Glass shattered from the impact around the both of you but your focus remained on him, the only thing to do in the instance was laugh and so you did.

“Quite the ferocious brute you are — you’d have made a fine servant to the moon, though I cannot say the same about your brother.” His hands squeezed down on your windpipe with malicious intent but you remain unperturbed despite the immense pressure building within your head. Like a bubble about to burst.

The elders' whimpers of pain droned on in the background, mixing into the symphony of nature that carried on throughout the marsh. You had a little too much fun toying with people, if they were to treat you a certain way, who were you to not at least get amusement from it? 

You laughed, bringing a fist full of powder up and flicking it in his face before disappearing through his fingertips like grains of sand. The powder served distraction enough, staggering him back and you silently thank your motherly figure for always ensuring you carried turmeric. Even if it was to ward off bad spirits only.

When you reappeared, your lips barely skimming the shell of Aegon’s ear as you whisper a soft incantation, it felt lewd and profane but at once his pain ceased. The wrinkling in his forehead and face softened while beads of sweat trickled downward, threatening to sully his eyesight by falling into it.

In your hand was the phial of blood you had taken from Aegon, the other held the scruff of his neck. His brother only just recovered from having powder flung in his face, the searing and burning had barely stopped when his eyes settled on you, hovering over Aegon like an enchantress with ill intent.

You crushed the phial in your hands, glass cutting the insides of your palm mixing two bloods together, placing your bloodied hand to Aegon’s sweaty forehead and began muttering swift words. You turned to the younger one, haggard and crazed with a look in your eye that seemed to elicit fear in both of them, raising a clawed hand up you pointing directly at him.

“I have done what is asked of me, to unmark and unburden you. And the cost has been paid. He —“ you look down at Aegon’s fearful eyes, and something in your mind whispers to you to show mercy, it is not your voice, rather hers the one who taught you the ways of magic, “he may now be a servant of the moon but he is bound to me.  Every lunar cycle when the moon is at its fullest he must come to me lest he be made an example from the zealot’s who poison your minds with promises of false salvation and piety.” You were still rather on the theatrical side, not truly enforcing a blood bind on him. And yet, it had the desired effect. Fear.

“And if he doesn’t?” The younger asks in mock defiance, serving as a mask to hide the fear so prevalent in his eyes.

“Then when you pray at night you better hope your false god listens.”

——— Taglist ———

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged for the next update! :D

@karlachs-soldier

#imagines #imagine #fanfiction #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon

[setaripendragon]

Okay, now I'm kinda interested in what the Kingsman "The King's Whores" wip is about...

=D I am so glad you asked!

Basically, it's a post!Secret Service (not Golden Circle or King's Man compliant) fic where Harry gets found alive and comes back to take the position of Arthur, and the first thing he has to do is replace a bunch of agents who died because of the four minutes of murder.

Eggsy decides that his own appointment wasn't scandalous enough, and not only does Kingsman have a classism problem, it also has a sexism problem, and goes trawling the east end's street hookers for his candidates for the trials.

The story is told from the PoV of a street hooker called Emma who is Massively Confused about this rich-ass chav who's paying her and a bunch of other girls a lot of money for the privilege of... taking them to dinner at the Ritz?

The plan is to have Eggsy run a couple of 'tests' to check for general comatibility (the ritz), physical ability (free running? laser tag? adult-sized jungle gym? I haven't decided yet), and some sort of puzzle-solving/detectiving skills (city wide treasure hunt? some sort of pin the tail on the asshole rich guy??? still a bit vague on this one, ngl) and Emma eventually gets bonus points for pretty much figuring out what Eggsy's looking for and possibly catching him bugging them all and such.

And the grand finale is going to be Eggsy presenting these three to Merlin as his candidates, and ALL of the other agents and candidates pulling faces as the girls fly through the Kingsman tests in a little epilogue montage and, like, two out of three of them getting the job or something.

(Harry thinks it's delightful, and fist-bumps Eggsy when Emma's knighted, much to the agony of all the other stuffed-up inbred aristocrats in Kingsman)

Have an excerpt:

“If you want us to get in your car, you’re gonna have to tell us where the hell you’re taking us.” Emma informed him with a grimace. So far, he’d been remarkably polite and respectful, but she knew full well just how quickly that could change once a bloke didn’t need to be. And sure, there were more of them than there were of him, but she couldn’t guarantee on it staying that way.

Eggsy thought about it for a moment, then nodded in a ‘that’s fair’ sort of way. “Dinner at at the Ritz.” He informed them blandly, and then grinned with mischief.

“Bullshit.” Emma snapped.

Eggsy sobered up at that, but he didn’t look angry to be called out, or even irritated. He just looked sombre. “I give you my word, that’s all. Dinner, two hours, and I’ll drop you all back here in exactly the same condition you’re in now, only better fed, and maybe a little bit tipsy. They got good wine there.” He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “And you don’t have to come. The money’s yours whether you do or don’t, but hey, when else’re you gonna get to make all the waiters at the Ritz uncomfortable as hell?”

That was tempting, Emma had to admit, but she also had her kids to think about, and if she got abducted, who the hell would look after them? “Your word?” Laura challenged, unimpressed.

“A true gentleman never breaks his word.” Eggsy replied sincerely, and it was an odd thing to hear in such a common accent, but Emma was pretty good at reading people, and she was pretty damn sure he meant it.

#Kingsman #my wips

[ghost-whump]

For Your Own Good

Second part to my first post!

CW: Institutionalized whump, (mental) hospital setting, vaguely creepy whumper, doctor whumper/patient whumpee, [discussed] shock therapy/ECT, restraints, implied future electricity/shock whump. (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

Whumpee didn’t struggle. Couldn’t struggle.

“Come on,” Whumper held on tight to the front of the straitjacket, hand wrapped around the belt, “We shouldn’t waste time, should we?” A vicious smile tugged their lips.

Whumpee remained silent, biting at the skin of their lip. Their feet dragged slowly forward, a death march into the dark, dark room. The fear that shot down their spine at every step couldn’t hold a candle to the fire that lit under their heels, pressing them forward still.

Then, kck! shhhh… whoomph. Door closed.

No more escape. Even without the jacket, even if Whumper couldn’t catch them, the air-locked door wouldn’t budge for anything. Only illuminated by the glow of the various screens and panels and buttons and keypads, the room is a void.

A single cold slab of a “bed” stands menacingly in the center. Adorned with worn leather straps that rubbed skin raw, scuff marks from banging and scratching at the surface, all topped off with a tasteful spatter of blood near the middle.

Though, large hands undid each buckle on their person, leaving the jacket to fall to the floor. Whumpee immediately wrapped their arms around their torso, trying to cover as much bare skin as possible. Not that it would help, but it made them feel better.

“Well?” Whumper, who had pulled away by now, “You know what to do.” They gesture vaguely to the table and turn around to play with the buttons and screens.

And the doctor isn’t wrong. Whumpee does know what to do. Lay down, head forward, legs together, stare up and up and up at the ceiling.

“You’re getting quite good at this, Whumpee.” Whumper’s face came into light above them, a wicked grin twisting their face into one even scarier than usual.

Whumpee closed their eyes. They couldn’t look anymore. If they didn’t look, maybe it would stop. Maybe they’d wake up in their cell (…or their home, if they dared dream that far) and would behave this time. Never have to—

“Ah!” A thick strip of leather tightened suddenly around their wrist. Whumpee yelped and their eyes flew open.

Whumper shook their head, “Tsk, Whumpee. You were doing so well,” They buckled the strap, far too fast and tight than anytime before. They tilted Whumpee’s head, doing the same to their other wrist. “You know, I was even considering letting you off easy with some solitary. Yet you had to go and look away from me. You’re usually so good at eye contact.”

“That—agh, that hurts!” Whumpee pulled at the restraints, though they knew it was futile. “P-Please, I’m sorry, I—mmpf!”

The final strap of leather struck their face, its specialised rubber gag worming between their teeth. Protests now barely audible, Whumper smiled and pulled away. “There you go, Whumpee. That’s better now.”

Phantom pains shot through their veins, preparing for what’s to come. Each sticky node placed under their shirt wracked another sob from their chest. No matter how much it happened, it never got easier. Feeling their body seize with each passing second, flashing colors and lights that didn’t really come, nightmarish terror that never stopped.

“It’s alright,” Whumper flashed their teeth, placing the final two nodes on Whumpee’s temples, “The ECT is for your own good. Don’t you feel better after it’s done?”

They tried to shake their head, No! It feels bad! Bad bad bad! It hurt! But it didn’t stop Whumper. The doctor turned around, taking their time in approaching the large lever on the wall.

Whumper’s hand gripped the lever tight, throwing one last glance to their writhing patient. Readjusting their grip, they get ready to finally pull down. “Don’t worry, Whumpee, you’ll feel much better after we’re done.”

really not sure how happy i am with this one, but i figured it be best to post it! enjoy :]

#whump #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump community #whump tropes #whumpblr #asylum whump #medical whump #electricity whump #shock whump #anticipation whump #?? is that a thing #let’s hope so #creepy whumper #my stuff

[astarionfreak]

Beg like you need it

// Astarion x Gale x Tessa (Fem!Tav)

Astarion, Tessa, and Gale were tossed in jail. They're definitely innocent. Astarion and Tessa share a cell -- Gale is locked up on the other side of a brick wall.

The three of them have nothing to do but wait for Minsc to come find them.

And that could take awhile . . .

Astarion has some ideas on how to pass the time. He doesn't mind if Gale listens. But, if the wizard wants to use their little tadpole friends to watch, well, he'll have to beg.

18+ • NSFW • 5.5K words (1/1) • Read on AO3 (or below)

Tags: Smut, Cuckolding, Inappropriate use of tadpole, Voyeurism, Vaginal sex, Vaginal fingering, Light bondage, Blindfolds, A little bit gay (not gay enough tho imo)

Gale glanced around the room as if expecting another guard to arrive at any moment. “I don’t believe resorting to violence was necessary in this particular instance.”

Astarion stared longingly at the blood on his dagger, almost as if considering licking it. He wiped it off on the guard’s sleeve instead. “Don’t be so wet behind the ears.”

“What’s done is done. I’ll check for anything worth taking.” Tessa bent down near the body and began rummaging through his pockets. “Only three gold.”

“You don’t suppose his family will want that? It’s not like we’re exactly in need after our misappropriation of Counting House funds. . .”

“Our what?” Tessa continued digging through the guard’s pockets.

“Misappropriate. Dishonestly or unfairly take something, especially money, belonging to another for one's own use,” Gale said.

Tessa sat back on her knees and looked up at Gale. “I love it when you use big words, babe.”

Astarion leaned against the wall, his eyes on Tessa, and huffed out a soft laugh. “She’s being sarcastic, Gale. In case you missed that.”

“It’s not sarcasm. I like learning. Sometimes. But, anyway. Gale, if it will make you feel better about this . . .” She gestured vaguely at the dead guard. “I’ll put some of our gold in his pockets. How much does a funeral cost these days?”

Tessa was actually in the middle of stuffing a handful of gold from her bag into the guard’s pocket when four more guards walked into the room.

“Shit.” Astarion tossed Tessa a glance, daggers at the ready, waiting for her to approve the next attack.

Tessa looked from Astarion to Gale, who now looked particularly glib. A word she’d recently learned from him.

Tessa stood and stepped away from the body. “We can explain . . .”

They could not explain.

In an effort to appease Gale and avoid further bloodshed, the three of them were dragged off to jail.

--

Tessa leaned against the bars of her jail cell, one she had the misfortune of sharing with Astarion. “How long before Minsc finds us?” She’d already tried — and failed — to rip the door off.

“We should find our own way out of this. Or settle in for the night,” Gale said from the other side of a brick wall.

“Oh, please,” Astarion said as he eased up next to Tessa. “I’ll have us out of here before you can — eh, you finish that sentence for me, Gale. I’ll get to work.”

Tessa gasped in surprise as Astarion slid his open hand up the back of her neck and into her hair. “Astarion — wha —”

Astarion tugged her head back and locked eyes with her. Tessa’s heart slammed against her chest, she knew he could hear it, and she hated that it gave her away.

“This will only take a moment,” he said with a smirk. Astarion held her in place, his grip tightening. He reached into her hair with his other hand. With two dexterous fingers, he plucked a single lock pick from her wild curls and twirled it in front of her face.

“What the fuck, Astarion? How long has that been there?” Tessa untangled herself from his hand and pushed him away.

“Don’t be ungrateful, darling,” Astarion teased.

“Tessa? What’s going on?” Gale asked.

“If Astarion doesn’t fuck this up we’ll be out of here before Minsc even realizes we’re missing,” Tessa said.

Gale sighed. “Ah. That is a relief. A great relief indeed.”

Astarion reached through the bars and started fiddling with the lock.

Tessa watched Astarion work and decided to take a shot at trying to make him just as flustered as he’d made her. “Yeah. A relief. I was worried we’d have to resort to more erotic forms of entertainment to get us through the night.”

The lock clicked open.

No? Fuck.

That wasn’t the lock.

“Tell me I didn’t just hear our only lock pick breaking,” Tessa said.

Astarion stepped away from the jail door. “You didn’t just hear our only lock pick breaking.”

“That’s great. You have another one?” Tessa ran her fingers through her hair, trying to find out what else Astarion had stashed in there.

Astarion tossed the broken lock pick onto the floor of the cell. “No.”

“Then why did you say that?”

“Because you told me to,” he said.

“Fuck.” Tessa shook out her hair, just to be sure. Nothing.

“What’s going on now?” Gale asked.

“Our escape plan failed. We’re stuck here,” Tessa said.

Two long strides were all it took and Astarion was invading her space again, smiling down at her with that sly, fanged, grin of his. “So, about those more erotic forms of entertainment, you mentioned . . .”

Tessa’s breath caught in her throat. Her chest and face suddenly felt so warm. Was she blushing? Fuck. “Ah, it was just a joke.”

Astarion pushed forward, a predatory glint in his eyes. Tessa stumbled until her back hit the brick wall that separated them from Gale.

“You’re too close, Astarion,” Tessa whispered. Her breaths came in hot, uneven gasps now.

“Am I?” Astarion placed his hands on either side of her head, enclosing her. His breath ghosted across her lips. He smelled like wine — and blood. Why was that so hot?

“What’s going on? Why are you so quiet?” Gale asked.

Astarion towered over her. Had it always been so warm in here? The smell of him enveloped her now. Astarion leaned forward, his lips nearly brushing against hers as he whispered, “Yes, Tessa. What’s going on?”

Tessa’s body reacted before she had time to process exactly what was happening. She jolted back, slamming her head against the brick wall.

“What was that? Are you okay? Someone speak to me,” Gale said.

Astarion laughed softly and pulled away. “I have a proposition for you. Both of you.”

Tessa somehow managed to hear Astarion’s voice over the sound of her own heartbeat pounding away in her ears. “Oh?”

“Don’t be coy now,” Astarion purred. “You two aren’t as discreet as you think. I’ve heard you talking about me.”

“What exactly have you heard?” Gale asked.

“Enough. Just know that I’m very interested,” Astarion said.

Did he just? Is he for real? Tessa stared up at him, searching his face for any hint of doubt. “Really? What happened to not being interested in a love triangle with Gale?”

“Don’t ruin the moment, darling,” Astarion’s lip curled up in disgust. “It’s not a love triangle. It’s sex. Surely that’s something we can all agree on? Besides, I’m ready to start . . . exploring again. And why not with someone I trust?”

Tessa’s breath hitched. “That’s good enough for me.”

“Good.” Astarion tapped Tessa’s lips with two fingers. “Gale?”

Astarion didn’t wait for a response, he nudged Tessa’s thighs apart with his leg — she rolled her hips, grinding against him.

Tessa bit back a moan. There was that telltale squirming in her brain. Gale wanted in. She let him.

There was no holding back the torrent of arousal that slammed into him. Gale watched through her eyes as Astarion stared down at her — pupils blown wide.

If she had any apprehension, that faded when she felt Gale’s excitement mingle with hers.

Tessa reached out to him through their shared connection.

Is this really happening?

It appears so.

And you’re okay with this, Gale?

I have made my feelings clear. It is something I have a . . . particular interest . . . in experiencing. Do you want this?

Yes. Very much.

Then far be it from me to prevent our . . . shared pleasure. Just . . .

Anything, Gale. What is it?

Just keep the connection between us. I want to experience this through you.

Tessa bit down on her lower lip and smiled.

“Are you two lovebirds finished with your little chat?” Astarion asked.

“Yes,” Tessa said.

“Yes, you’re done? Or, yes —”

“Yes,” Tessa said again, nodding this time.

Astarion’s smile widened. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Waiting? There would be no more of that. Tessa grabbed the front of Astarion’s shirt with two hands and pulled him down to her level, crashing her lips against his. It wasn’t the first time they kissed, and she’d learned the hard way how to avoid slicing herself open on his fangs.

This though, this was new. There was something deeply thrilling about kissing Astarion while Gale was inside her head — he found it deeply thrilling too. Tessa rolled her hips again, frantically grinding herself against his thigh.

“F-fuck,” she whimpered. Tessa squeezed her eyes shut and bit back another moan.

Astarion pulled away from the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers, laughing softly. Tessa continued to grind against him, her hands squished between their bodies as she clung to his shirt.

“Open your eyes, Tessa,” Astarion demanded.

She did as she was told. She trembled with anticipation as Astarion searched her face. He wasn’t looking at her though, he was looking for Gale.

His next words came out as smooth as velvet. “Is she always so needy, Gale? Or is this just all for me?” Astarion hooked a finger in Tessa’s leggings and tugged lightly, eliciting a moan from her. “If you want me to continue, you’ll have to answer the question, Gale. And there is a right answer . . .”

Tessa saw through Gale’s eyes. His forehead was pressed against the cool brick wall — mirroring how she stood with Astarion.

Gale was right behind her. If only he was in the cell with them too, but . . . well.

Please, Gale. If you want — I — 

“Just for you, Astarion,” Gale’s voice was low and rough.

Tessa felt jealousy curl up in her core, stoking the flames of her arousal. She quickly realized it wasn’t her jealousy — it was Gale’s. And he loved this.

“Good.” Astarion raised his hand and pressed two fingers into Tessa’s mouth. He thrust his fingers in past two knuckles. She opened up so easily for him and began to suck.

“What a good girl,” he purred. Astarion removed his fingers from her mouth with a lewd pop.

“Shall we find out just how wet she is for me, Gale?” His hand found its way beneath her underwear — but not far enough down.

Tessa stared up at him with wide eyes, wishing he would just fucking touch her properly already.

“Answer me, Gale,” Astarion said.

Gale already knew how wet she was. He knew the same way she could feel how hard he was. “Y-yes,” Gale said.

In one fluid motion, Astarion pushed his hand down and drove two fingers into her warm cunt. Tessa’s knees buckled, she would have collapsed if Astarion wasn’t holding her up against the wall.

“Oh, gods, fuck,” Tessa whimpered, melting into him.

“You’re such a good girl. So fucking wet for me and we’ve only just begun.” Astarion fucked her slowly, easing his fingers in and out of her with a level of grace that only he could manage.

“Tell me, darling. How many times have you imagined me inside you?” Astarion curled his fingers, hitting that perfect spot. “Actually. Don’t tell me. Tell Gale.”

Tessa could hardly catch her breath. “Every day,” she whimpered.

“Even when it’s him?” Astarion nipped at her jaw.

“Y-yes,” Tessa said as she tried to fuck herself down further on Astarion’s fingers. “Y-yes, even then.”

A strangled noise escaped Tessa’s lips, something between a moan and a whimper as Astarion pulled away. He didn’t neglect her though, those two fingers moved to stroke her clit instead.

“How does that make you feel, Gale? Knowing that she wants me so badly she pictures me when you’re inside her?”

Tessa felt Gale’s pleasure move through her. She saw what he saw. He fisted his own cock, stroking himself slowly — drawing this out. “J-jealous.”

“Try again,” Astarion said. He continued to rub that little bundle of nerves, offering just the right amount of pressure.

Gale grunted. “H-humiliated.”

“Hmm. Anything else?” Astarion was perfectly composed as Tessa writhed beneath him.

“Turned on,” Gale said.

“You want to watch me fuck her. Don’t you, Gale?” Astarion buried his fingers in Tessa’s cunt a second time.

“Yes,” Gale said.

This time, when she moaned, she didn’t try to muffle the sound. “F-fuck, Astarion,” she whimpered. “That — fuck — that feels so good.”

Without warning, Astarion removed his hand from Tessa’s underwear and stepped back. She put all of her weight on that brick wall, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

Tessa — and Gale through her eyes — watched as Astarion popped his fingers into his mouth. He closed his eyes and moaned around them as he lapped up her desire.

“We like that,” Tessa groaned.

Gale brushed his thumb over the tip of his cock and the sensation sent a new wave of pleasure through Tessa’s body.

“Mm.” Astarion removed his fingers. “I’m sure you do.”

Tessa stared up at him expectantly.

“You look positively flushed, dear. Perhaps we should remove some of those clothes?” Astarion was back in her space again. “What do you think, Gale?”

Tessa heard Gale’s voice in her head.

Are you still enjoying this?

How kind of him. He knew the answer. He could feel everything she felt, but he still took time to check.

Yes. Are you?

Gale growled out something that Tessa believed was a yes. It was enough to satisfy her — and Astarion.

Tessa’s shirt was the first to go. Then her bra. Astarion tossed them onto the floor by their feet. Then everything below her waist came off in one swift motion. She kicked them to the side.

Astarion kissed her, gently now. His hands wandered across her sides, stomach, and hips. His fingers pried the heat from her skin like a soothing balm.

Gale moaned from the other side of the wall. Tessa felt him squirming as phantom fingertips moved from her skin to his.

“That feels so nice, Astarion,” Tessa whimpered.

He trailed his fingertips over her shoulders and down her arms, every movement sweet and slow.

“You’re so good for me, Tessa. Good girls get rewarded. Do you want your reward?”

Tessa nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes, please. Yes —”

Astarion grabbed her wrists and yanked her toward the bars of their cell.

Tessa gasped, stumbling along with him until her bare ass was pressed against the cool metal bars.

Astarion raised her hands above her head. He curled her fingers around the bars. “Do you think you can keep your hands there?”

Before Tessa could answer, Astarion plunged two fingers into her mouth. She gagged this time.

Once she found her composure, she swirled her tongue around his fingers and sucked.

“It seems she’s a little preoccupied. Gale, what do you think? Shall we tie her up?” Astarion slid his fingers in and out of her mouth, the same pace he’d used between her legs. The feeling went straight to her cunt.

“Yes,” Gale whimpered.

Astarion popped his fingers out of her mouth and traced her lips, wetting them with her spittle, before he stepped away. Tessa watched, chest heaving, lips parted softly as Astarion glanced around the room.

His eyes settled on her bra. He picked it up and gave the material a stretch. “This should do.” Astarion pressed into her space again and tied her wrists to the jail bars.

Astarion’s neck was so close to her face. She watched as beads of sweat rolled down his cheek, over his jaw, and along his neck.

Tessa felt the overwhelming urge to lick him — it hadn’t been her idea though. It came from Gale. Who was she to deny him this pleasure?

Tessa leaned forward and ran the flat of her tongue along Astarion’s neck, licking up the salty droplets. Then, before he could move, she gave him a playful nip — not hard enough to break the skin.

Astarion tightened the bra to her wrists with a final yank and then pulled away from her. “Ah, ah, watch it, darling. We ask before we bite,” he teased.

Tessa pulled her wrists gently against the fabric. This would be a true test of her fortitude. It would be incredibly easy to rip through these bonds.

Then Tessa experienced something absolutely delightful. She felt Gale wonder what it would be like to be bitten. That feeling also went straight to her cunt — and Gale’s cock.

“Why don’t you bite me then?”

Astarion ran his tongue over his canines and smiled. “Perhaps. Only if you tell me whose idea that was?”

Astarion stood far enough away now that Tessa could drink in his figure. He was, unfortunately, still completely clothed but there was an unmistakable tension in his trousers.

“It was Gale’s idea,” Tessa said. “Gale would also like you to be wearing . . . less . . .”

“Oh, would he now?” Astarion hitched up his shirt slightly, exposing his hip.

Tessa bit her lower lip and nodded.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Astarion purred. He slowly lifted his shirt and tugged it over his head.

Tessa watched, eyes trailing along his stomach, up his neck — she shivered when their eyes met. There was something truly dangerous there.

Tessa swallowed thickly as Astarion closed the distance between them. A rush of excitement from Gale moved through her.

“I can’t just be giving away everything for free,” Astarion teased. He gently pulled his shirt over Tessa’s face, obstructing her — and Gale’s — view.

She could only see through Gale’s eyes now. They stared at the same brick wall and listened as Astarion removed his pants. Tessa wriggled against the fabric holding her wrists in place.

Astarion grabbed Tessa’s hips and pulled her forward. His lips found the curve of her neck, he tugged at the skin with his teeth — then pressed his lips down and sucked.

Tessa groaned, wriggling to be closer to him. His hands held her in place as his hard cock bumped against her thigh. Her knees fell apart. The ache between her legs was impossible to ignore now.

Gale squeezed his cock, still stroking himself with the patience of a damn saint. He reached out to Tessa.

Are you okay?

Yes.

Are you?

Yes. I love you.

I love you too.

I’ll . . . be right back.

Suddenly, her mind was empty. Tessa was alone.

Astarion chuckled darkly against her neck. “Ah, ah, ah, naughty boy. If you want to watch, you’re going to have to beg.”

Astarion’s cock slid between her legs, the length of him brushing against her swollen lips. He moved back and forth, slowly, carefully — barely causing any friction.

Tessa tried to grind down onto Astarion’s length, but he made sure she couldn’t find relief.

Tessa wondered if relief would ever come — Gale wasn’t the type to beg for anything.

Then, he surprised her.

“Please, Astarion,” Gale groaned. “Please let me watch you fuck Tessa.”

Astarion rolled his hips. Tessa scrambled to feel him, moaning softly.

“Again,” Astarion demanded.

“Please, Astarion. Please — I need this. I want to watch your cock . . .”

Gale choked back a moan. “I need to watch your cock fucking into her. I want to hear her scream your name.”

“More,” Astarion said. “Tell the whole truth.”

Gale’s fist slapped against the brick twice. “I —”

Astarion rolled his hips again, pulling another desperate moan from Tessa.

“I want to be inside her head while you fuck her, Astarion. I want to feel your cock as though . . . “

“As though, what, Gale?” Astarion sounded so fucking smug.

“As though you were fucking me,” Gale choked out.

“Ah. There it is,” Astarion hummed. “And you, Tessa. Do you want this?”

Yes. More than ever. Is what she wanted to say. Instead, all she managed was a strangled whimper as Astarion bucked his hips against her. She nodded furiously.

There was that squirming in her head again. This time — when she welcomed the feeling — it was different. The tadpoles linked all three of them now.

Tessa watched through Astarion’s eyes as he lifted her leg and angled his cock at her slick entrance. She felt Gale’s excitement, Astarion’s hunger — and her own lust crash and build to a crescendo.

Her swollen lips parted for his cock as Astarion sunk himself into her cunt — stretching her out. Her walls fluttered and clenched around him. 

“Fuck — you opened right up for me, didn’t you, darling?” Astarion growled.

Tessa paid extra attention to the sensations — making sure Gale had complete access to her body. She’d never shared herself with anyone so completely before. It was incredible.

Gale watched — they all watched — as Astarion’s cock disappeared into Tessa’s body again.

Astarion started slow, then steadily picked up the pace until Tessa was a stuttering mess — clinging to the jail bars to remain standing.

Their bodies collided noisily. The wet, slapping sounds drown out the rest of the world. Her slick drenched his cock as he snapped his hips up into her.

“F-fuck. I’m getting close,” Tessa whimpered. “I need —”

She didn’t have to ask. Astarion knew what she needed.

She watched through his eyes as he slid a hand between them and began to rub quick circles around her clit.

It was enough — it was almost too much. The heat coiled in her core. She wanted Gale to feel this too, but her brain stopped working as she reached the cusp of blissful unawareness.

One more little move — and she came undone on Astarion’s cock — screaming his name.

Astarion closed his eyes and pressed close to her. He slowed his pace, working her through her orgasm with languid strokes. This continued until Tessa was completely overstimulated, breathing hard, and struggling to stand.

Astarion began to lose his rhythm as he fucked himself into her. His breath tickled her ear. “I’m going to come inside you. Is that okay?”

“Y-yes,” Tessa whimpered. “Please. Please come inside me. Gods — Astarion —”

Astarion pressed his face into the crook of her neck and breathed her in as he found his release in her warm cunt.

Tessa clenched around him again, already building up to a second orgasm. He pumped his hips a few more times, slower now — then he pulled out.

Astarion removed his shirt from Tessa’s head. When her eyes adjusted to the light she saw Astarion’s face and nearly collapsed — he looked so perfectly wrecked. She did that.

She laughed softly. “You’re a mess.”

“You’re one to talk,” Astarion said.

For a second she saw through Astarion’s eyes again. She was — beautiful.

Tessa had plenty of confidence, but seeing herself — sufficiently fucked — through his eyes. She’d never felt more perfect.

Tessa squirmed. Her thighs were drenched with her own slick and now Astarion’s spend was starting to dribble out of her too.

“You want to come again, don’t you?” Astarion whispered.

Tessa nodded her head.

“Mm. That can be arranged. But first, we’ll have to clean you up.” Astarion looked past Tessa. “Won’t we, Gale?”

Tessa turned her head to see Gale standing just outside the jail door.

“You got out?” Tessa asked.

Gale blushed. “Simple knock spell . . .”

Tessa laughed. “Come in then.”

“My last spell for the day, I’m afraid,” Gale said.

“That’s okay. Our door isn’t locked. Is it, Astarion?” Tessa grinned.

Astarion laughed. “Aren’t you a clever girl? How long have you known?”

“Just a guess,” she said. Tessa squirmed against fabric holding her wrists.

Gale pushed the door open and stepped inside, almost timidly. His cock stood at attention beneath his robes.

“Oh, oh . . . aren’t you just . . . deliciously hard,” Astarion purred.

Gale swallowed thickly and stepped closer. His eyes flitted from Astarion’s naked form to Tessa strung up against the bars of the cell.

“Eyes on me, Gale,” Astarion demanded.

Gale met Astarion’s eyes and stepped closer.

“You’ve been awfully quiet lately for someone who usually has so many pretty words. Perhaps that mouth of yours can be put to better use anyway.” Astarion circled Gale like a predator hunting its prey.

Gale stumbled until he was standing just in front of Tessa.

“On your knees, darling,” Astarion purred. “Use your mouth and clean my spend from between the pretty lady’s legs.”

Gale carefully got to his knees. He grabbed Tessa’s thighs and leaned close. He stared up at her with those big, brown eyes — pausing to drink in the view.

“Gale,” she whispered his name. Her heart threw itself at her ribcage — threatening to burst out of her chest.

He kept his eyes on hers as the flat of his tongue found the inside of her thigh. He diligently cleaned up her slick and Astarion’s spend before moving to the other side. Tessa whimpered and held tight to the jail bars.

Gale buried his face between her legs, beard tickling her skin as his tongue dipped between her lips and teased her hole. He moaned against her cunt, breath hot and heavy.

Gale squeezed her thighs as his tongue found her clit. He honored her needs in only the way he knew how — sending shockwaves of pleasure up her spine.

Astarion approached and slid a hand up the back of Tessa’s neck. She hadn’t noticed before, but at some point, Astarion put his clothes back on. He turned her head and locked eyes with her.

Astarion trailed his fingers lightly up her stomach, across the swell of her breasts. He pinched one nipple, rolled it between his fingers — and then repeated the action with her other breast.

Tessa’s face scrunched up — lost somewhere between pain and overwhelming pleasure. Her legs shook and her walls clenched around nothing. So fucking close. But she needed more. “Gale — I — fuck. Fuck. I can’t — I need you inside me — fuck . . .”

Gale pressed a kiss to her inner thigh and leaned back. Astarion let go of Tessa and grabbed a fistful of Gale’s hair instead. He angled the other man’s face up to look at him.

Astarion invited Tessa into his mind — she closed her eyes and allowed herself to see what Astarion saw.

Gale. Pretty, plump, lips parted so softly. She could hear the pounding of Gale’s heart. His beard was wet from her cunt and Astarion’s spend. The scent of his sweat and desire was almost overwhelming.

A profound urge to see them kiss sent sparks across her skin. Was that coming from her? Or Astarion?

Astarion barked out a sharp laugh and glanced at Tessa. “It would seem your lady has some ideas of her own . . .”

Oh. So. It was her. Oops. It wasn’t the first time she’d considered it.

“Shall we give her what she wants?” Astarion asked.

“I wouldn’t want to waste this opportunity,” Gale sputtered.

Astarion smiled smugly and pulled Gale onto his feet before releasing his grip on Gale’s hair. “I just want to know how much I adore reducing you to a babbling mess.”

Gale whimpered. “I’m just — you’re —”

“Hush, darling,” Astarion purred. “Just answer me this. Do you want me to kiss you?”

Gale’s face turned a deep red. “Yes.”

Tessa closed her eyes, letting herself fall into Astarion’s experience as he crashed his lips into Gale’s.

The two men kissed, slowly at first. Tessa felt Gale’s beard tickle Astarion’s face — reveled in how warm his skin felt against Astarion’s hands as he slid them under his robes.

Then she felt exactly how hard Gale was. Well, Astarion felt it — when he curled his fingers around the other man’s cock.

“Fuck,” Astarion and Tessa whispered in unison.

Gale whimpered and bucked himself into Astarion’s hand. Astarion started to push Gale’s robes off, but Gale stopped him.

“These stay on,” Gale said.

“I understand,” Astarion said. He continued to stroke Gale — view obscured by the fabric.

Astarion nipped gently at Gale’s lips before capturing him in another kiss.

“Do you want to know what Tessa’s cunt feels like after she’s been properly fucked?” Astarion whispered against Gale’s lips.

Gale moaned, eyes squeezing shut. “Y-yes.”

“Say it,” Astarion demanded.

“I w-want to know what she feels like after you’ve fucked her,” Gale whimpered.

“Whose cock do you think she likes better?” Astarion growled.

Gale rolled his hips. “Yours, Astarion.”

Astarion chuckled. “You like that, huh?”

Gale nodded.

Astarion leaned closer, nipped at Gale’s earlobe, and whispered, “Think of me when you’re inside her. Know that I stretched her out. I made her come . . . you can’t even compare.”

Gale snapped his head down to meet Astarion’s eyes. He grabbed Astarion’s wrist and pulled him away from his cock.

“Too far?” Astarion asked. Something resembling concern flashed across his face.

Gale shook his head. “No. It was . . . that was good.”

Tessa’s hands were starting to go numb. “I’m done waiting,” she blurted. Tessa yanked her hands free — ruining her favorite bra — and stumbled toward the two men.

Astarion grabbed Tessa and roughly pulled her between them. He slid a hand between her legs and parted her thighs.

Gale pushed forward and his lips found Tessa’s. They kissed, hungry and desperate for each other. Tessa threw her arms around his neck.

Astarion lifted Tessa’s leg, creating space for Gale.

Gale didn’t hesitate. He pushed his robes out of the way, thrust himself into her aching cunt, and set a punishing pace.

Tessa whimpered and squirmed, held up only by the four hands gripping her tight.

Astarion’s breath ghosted across her neck. “Invite us into your head, darling. I’m going to bite you now.”

She opened her mind to them as Astarion sunk his fangs into her throat. She melted between them. It was all too much.

She tasted her blood on Astarion’s tongue — felt how warm and smooth it felt as he swallowed it down. Then there was how she felt clenched around Gale’s cock.

As if sensing how weak she was, Astarion reached a hand around and stroked her clit. It sent her over the edge. She came hard enough to see stars, moaning into Gale’s mouth and leaning back into Astarion.

Gale’s hips snapped against hers a few more times before he spilled inside her — cock pulsing as her walls quivered around him.

The next thing Tessa knew she was sitting on the floor of the cell, back against the brick wall. Gale knelt beside her. Astarion was nowhere to be seen.

“Did I pass out?” she asked.

“Just for a moment,” Gale said. “Astarion’s seeing if there are guards outside. Which — I imagine there aren’t. Otherwise our, uh . . . rutting . . . would have surely drawn some unwanted attention.” Gale held out her clothes.

Tessa remained on the floor as she pulled her clothes on. She studied his face. “You were unusually quiet. How are you feeling?”

Gale looked away from her for a moment — then met her eyes again. “It was . . . a lot. I’m going to need time to process.”

“But, you’re okay?” Tessa asked.

“Yes. I’m okay. Are you?”

Tessa nodded. “We can talk about it whenever you’re ready.”

Gale pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

Astarion cleared his throat. “If you two are done, I’ll have you know that we can walk right out the front door.”

Gale helped Tessa to her feet. “Astarion, do you need to talk?”

“Don’t get all soft on me. You two keep your feelings amongst yourselves,” Astarion said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m fine.”

Tessa nodded and followed Astarion out of the jail. The guards outside the door were tied up and unconscious. 

“Did you do this?” Tessa asked.

“No,” Astarion said.

“Then who?” Gale asked.

“I suspect it’s a gift . . .”

“Minsc?” Tessa asked.

“Likely,” Astarion said.

“Oh . . . do you think everyone knows?” Tessa asked.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Gale said.

--

There were plenty of comments when they returned to camp. Lewd remarks and the like.

Tessa waved them off, Astarion laughed them off and Gale snuck away to his room.

Tessa found him there, facedown on the pillows and buried under blankets. She crawled into bed next to him. He put his arm around her chest and pulled her close.

“I’m sorry,” Tessa said.

Gale propped himself up, one arm on the other side of Tessa. He studied her face. “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m worried that was all too much for you,” she said.

Gale shook his head. “It wasn’t too much. I’m still . . . processing. Give me more time.” He kissed her. “If you wish to share your feelings on the matter, you are more than welcome to do so.”

Tessa kissed him. “It can wait until you’re ready.”

Gale nodded and flopped back down into the pillows, his arm still thrown over her chest.

It wasn’t long before he was snoring softly. Tessa listened, still unable to fall asleep.

A knock on the door stirred her from her thoughts. “Come in,” she called out quietly.

The door creaked as it opened. It was dark, but Tessa could see Astarion’s distinct figure. He stepped into the room and gently closed the door behind him.

“Looking for a snack?” Tessa asked.

“No,” Astarion said as he approached the bed.

“What is it?” Tessa asked.

“Can I just . . .”

“What?”

Gale turned his head. “Just get in the bed, Astarion,” he mumbled.

“Oh.” Tessa lifted the blanket and shifted slightly closer to Gale to make room for Astarion.

Astarion slipped under the covers and curled close to Tessa. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Good. We’re sleeping.” Gale yawned.

Tessa pressed a kiss to Gale’s forehead, then turned to look at Astarion.

“This is nice,” she whispered.

“Sleeping,” Gale muttered.

“Thank you,” Astarion whispered.

“Goodnight.” Tessa closed her eyes.

The two people she loved most in this world were on either side of her. She felt completely safe as she waited for sleep to claim her.

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