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underdark-dreams · 2 months

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It's finally here, all 7k words of it 👀 Thank you for everyone who read chapter 1, and waited so patiently!

[ch1]

Birds and Bees - Ch.2

Rolan isn't usually the type to accept help. In his defense, Tav is very persuasive—and he is very, very desperate.

Tags: Tailplay, Oral Sex, Biting, NSFW | Word Count: 7.7k [Read on AO3]

Rolan didn’t appear again for the rest of the day.

After their awkward exchange this morning, Tav felt she might be somewhat to blame. She tried to recall the bits of Tiefling etiquette she’d picked up from the Elturians; perhaps touching his tail had crossed some sort of line? Either way, the gesture seemed unthinkably forward to her now.

Then again…Rolan was the one who’d coiled his tail across her desk like that, its tip nearly brushing her hand as she wrote. She’d never seen him do anything like it before. If she didn't know him so well, she’d have found the move almost flirtatious.

At shop’s close, Cal took charge of locking up the front. Tav caught sight of the large iron keyring he carried and realized that it must be Rolan’s. So his brother had checked in on him today, at least—that gave her a modicum of relief.

Lia pitched in to help wipe down all her equipment and carefully fill the many waiting bottles with her cooled elixir. Tav held her tongue from repeating any of the worries she’d made after Rolan during the day—but it seemed her silence was just as damning.

“Stop fussing,” Lia repeated firmly. “Rolan’s just overdue for a rest. I mean, you saw his face.”

“I did.” Rolan had never been the type to slow down or show weakness easily. To Tav, the fact that he’d willingly taken himself to bed worried her more than anything. “Just promise you won't let him turn down a healer if he needs one?”

“If it comes to that, which it won't,” Lia said down to her work. “I promise we’ll find someone, okay?”

Tav kept her tone teasing as she packed away the sealed bottles in their crate. “Hmm, yes…if only you already knew someone with some knowledge of healing.”

Lia let out a bark of laughter. “Trust me, you’re the last person Rolan wants to see right now.”

The sting of those words took Tav by surprise herself. Lia caught their edge too; she pulled up with a grimace, letting a few drops of antidote dribble onto the desk. “Shit, Tav, I didn't mean it like that.”

“It’s okay,” Tav replied, making a fuss of sealing up the filled crate. The thought made her feel rather less than okay, which she didn't want Lia to see. “I think—I don’t know. I feel like I did something rude today, anyway.”

“Oh?” Lia’s tone was light, but she allowed a conspicuous pause to stretch between them. Tav pushed through a twinge of embarrassment to turn to face her.

“Lia, what would you think if I touched your tail?”

Lia glanced up with an eyebrow cocked. “What, right now?”

“No, just—say I did by accident.”

Lia straightened to take a thoughtful inhale. “I mean…it depends on the context. You and I are friends, I wouldn’t think much of it. Unless you grabbed it up by my backside or something,” she added with a laugh. “It wouldn’t be a big deal. If I’m walking somewhere crowded, lots of people might brush against it unless I’m careful.”

Tav had moved around to reset the rest of her clean glassware as she listened, feeling marginally relieved by the explanation.

Then Lia paused her work again. “Are you saying you touched Rolan’s tail?

“You what now?”

With impeccable timing, Cal skidded to a stop at the edge of the conversation, a heavy lockbox under one arm.

Tav glanced between the two of them. “Yes?” The word came out as a question somehow; her mouth went dry as they stared at her. “Like you said, I didn't think it was a big deal. He laid it on my desk while I was working, so I just kind of—” She mimed a little picking-up motion with her hand.

The siblings exchanged a significant look with each other.

“What?” Tav felt her face burning and knew the color must be noticeable to either of them. “How does it being Rolan’s tail make it different?”

Cal turned back to her with a frown. “What do you mean he laid it on your desk?”

“I don't know, damn—clearly I’m no expert!” She flailed her arms out a bit. “I just turned around and it was sitting there by my hand, all right?”

Another shared glance.

“That explains it,” Cal decided. It earned him a swift pinch on the arm from his sister. “Ow, hey—”

Tav looked between them again, trying to translate. “Explains what? Seriously, if I offended Rolan somehow, I want to kn—”

“You didn’t,” Lia cut in firmly. “This one here's just an idiot. It’s harder to control your tail when you're sick or tired, and Rolan’s been both, that’s all. I'm sure it was a mistake. And he shouldn't have minded you moving it,” she finished with a decisive nod.

With that, Lia snatched up the filled crate from her with one arm and grabbed her brother’s sleeve with the other. Cal stumbled slightly as she pulled him along, but he wisely held his tongue as they headed for the back stockroom. The hinges creaked shut behind them both.

Tav was left standing alone in the cavernous interior of Sorcerous Sundries, beside the desks that she and Rolan used to comfortably share—not sure if she should feel better or worse.

—

The next morning, Rolan was once again nowhere to be found.

He hadn’t even conjured his projection the way he usually did when occupied with research in the Tower. It was a shame; the shop was unusually busy by midday, and Cal and Lia worked without pause. When she could, Tav left her alchemy just to lend a hand with customers or make runs to the supply room.

She found herself worried to the point of irritation. Was Rolan really so stubborn that he wouldn’t take a potion? Or accept healing from someone he’d claimed was a trusted friend and colleague? She tried and failed not to be hurt by it.

Then again, Rolan had always been the type to shoulder his way through awful things alone while firmly turning down help—particularly from her. His apprenticeship, most recently. The memory made her radiantly angry on his behalf even now.

“Shit—”

Tav jerked away from the flask and sucked on her freshly scalded thumb. She must have the ratios off again; this recipe wasn’t new to her, but the nuances had escaped her all morning. These sublimates shouldn’t get nearly so hot when mixed.

Might as well admit defeat and review the recipe before she wasted yet another bunch of black oleander. Surely there was a reference text somewhere in Rolan’s library?

Tav glanced around to the front of the shop. Cal was recording a sale at the front desk; Lia was chatting with a very large half-orc over near the conjurement runes. Things seemed well enough in hand. Tav damped the flame at her station and quietly took the stairs for the portal.

For lack of a better word: the library of Ramazith’s Tower was absolutely magical.

Tav stood breathing in the quiet afternoon sunlight, taking an appreciative look up around her. The collection must be the best one this side of Candlekeep, with all sorts of books on spellcraft, Weave theory, alchemy, religion, the history of Toril—just to scratch the surface. She could think of no hands more deserving than the ones its ownership had fallen into.

Just as Lia mentioned the other day, Rolan had clearly been hard at work reorganizing the place. She ran her fingertips over the books’ spines as she walked around the perimeter of the main floor.

She imagined Rolan with his robe sleeves pushed to his elbows, enthusiastically at work in his book stacks, and bit back a grin. There was something so endearing about his passion for taming disorder. As she walked, she found her gaze drifting to the delicate staircase at the far end of the main floor. It spiraled upward invitingly.

She’d never been to the upper floors of Ramazith’s Tower—nothing past the library. Certainly she hadn’t stepped foot in any of the private quarters of Rolan or his siblings. She wouldn’t even know which door led to whose.

But her mind wandered readily at the thought of Rolan’s bedroom. What it might look like…smell like.

No doubt it was packed with shelves of books and scrolls, filled with the scent of fresh parchment and leather-bound volumes. That warm, bookish smell that seemed to be woven into his robes. The fresh hint of cedar from the way he kept his clothes meticulously cleaned and stored. And that other faint spice that she could never identify, but always picked up when he stood close to her.

The same scent that had filled her lungs with dizzy pleasure when he’d hovered close to her yesterday, chin brushing her shoulder and arm circled possessively around her waist—

She bit her lip as heat pooled between her legs at the memory. She couldn't help it—how very fucking nice it had been to feel Rolan’s elegant hands on her, casually and effortlessly touching, as if he was accustomed to touching her much more often and much more intimately.

It would do no good to dwell on that moment. If anything, the uncharacteristic gesture was just proof of how out-of-sorts Rolan must be feeling. He was her friend, and by all accounts, he’d been too sick to leave his room for days.

With a sudden burst of determination and a disregard for the consequences, she strode for the stairs.

Taking the curving ascent so rapidly left her dizzy. Tav planted her boots on the landing for a moment, holding onto the railing while she took in her surroundings.

This upper hall was also quietly sunlit, filled with fine carpeting and oak paneled walls; but the atmosphere was somehow less grand than the cavernous library below. More intimate.

Two doors stood on both ends of the hall. Hazarding a guess, she stepped to the closest one on her left. Its heavy oak panels swung forward with the slightest touch.

Not a bedroom at all, but a bath—and a tremendously fine one at that. All the fixtures seemed to be wrought from polished gold. Underneath a towering stained glass window stood the deepest, widest clawfoot tub she’d ever seen.

As she gazed around, Tav caught sight of her reflection in a large glass above the sinks. Her hair was all frizzy flyaways from a day over her potion work. Indulging a bit of vanity, she paused to tame it with her fingers.

One of Rolan’s many endearing habits was his dedication to fastidiousness. Never a hair out of place, horns polished and shining, robes immaculately pressed—knowing him, with a bit of the Weave.

She must look like some sort of wild hedge witch by comparison. Tav had never minded life in the wilds as a wayward adventurer, even after the Elder Brain was felled to the Chionthar. It was part of what drew her to the career of a traveling alchemist.

But there were moments…most of them in this Tower, with Rolan and his siblings. Sharing a meandering dinner at a real table with actual chairs. Sitting with Rolan out on the starlit balcony, discussing blood alchemy over a glass of wine as they watched the harbor.

Tav forced her hands still and stared back at her reflection.

“What do you want?” She muttered to herself. The Tav in the mirror had no answer. But in her mind, one softly bloomed.

Over the past months, her feelings had tumbled forward faster than she could keep up with them. Seeing Rolan, talking with him about anything and everything, working beside him in quiet moments—she found those were the moments she looked forward to most.

His offer to turn one of the Tower’s empty vaults into a greenhouse for her. Essentially giving her a permanent place in his home, if she wanted it. Was it stupid to hope that he wanted more, too?

As she stood frozen silent in the confines of her lavish surroundings, a muffled sound came from her right.

She hadn't noticed the second door past the bathtub; presumably connecting to one of the bedrooms. She realized it most likely led to Rolan’s.

She stepped toward the heavy oak paneling and raised a hand to knock. As she did, more muffled noises came from within. Tav hesitated, questioning whether she should—then leaned in to press one ear to the wood.

There were the sounds of labored breathing, as if from pain or exertion. She strained her ear harder. There was something almost…rhythmic in it.

And then—she could swear—she heard Rolan's voice groan her name aloud.

A shock of heat ran through her chest, prickling up her neck and diving between the cleft of her legs. The rapid, hot ache at her core made her gasp out in surprise, then clap a hand to her mouth lest he heard. She felt her cheeks burning with realization.

Whatever she had expected to find by wandering up here…this had never been on the list. All she saw in her mind’s eye was Rolan, sweating and panting and desperate. And that thought filled her with overwhelming want in response.

Tav pushed herself back from the door with a jolt. She turned and ran, not knowing or caring whether the ring of her footsteps on tile carried past the door. Her pulse pounded against her ears as she rushed out of the room and back for the staircase.

Even before Tav’s foot hit the third stair, she knew she was headed for the Elfsong. And a very stiff fucking drink.

—

Day passed to night and back to day again in a feverish jumble. Like a vessel adrift in a vast ocean, Rolan was passed along wave after wave of searing impulse.

Had his ruts always been this overwhelming, and he’d just forgotten? Or was there something different about the drives this time around?

Even the little dignities were stripped away, one by one. He began by conjuring mage hands at first, but his concentration faltered too many times at the cusp. He finally just settled for his own grip. Desperate sounds rose in his chest each time he neared his next finish, the likes of which he’d never utter voluntarily.

And he quickly gave up on clothes altogether. He lay naked and spread-eagle on his sheets and tried to sleep when he could, before his demanding cock inevitably twitched back to life again. The fever turned his dreams shockingly lewd whenever he did manage to drift off.

By sunset, another strong wave of need was pulsing through his core, demanding his attention. Rolan lay back against his pillows and groaned open-mouthed as he stroked himself.

Even slick with oil, the friction between his hand and the raw, overstimulated ridges of his cock bordered on painful. His finish danced out of reach to the back of his mind.

With an impatient growl, he flipped over to his knees and snatched up a feather pillow, folding it into a sleeve for his cock. A crude solution—but with his first few thrusts, the cool softness of the silk caused a moan of relief to rise in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fucked his own pillow in a desperate chase for relief.

And behind his eyelids, there she was again.

Tav appeared there so easily now. He’d tried to fight it at first—ashamed to be using her like this, without her knowledge or consent—but he found that nothing satisfied his urges so well as when he pictured her on his cock.

So he closed his eyes and imagined Tav…pliant, eager, hungry. Legs spread and center dripping with desire for him. The shameful depth of his need faded away as he fantasized her own. How her eyes might shine as she panted and gasped under him, calling him by name and begging him to fuck her and fill her and mark her as his—

What would she sound like as he took her? He conjured the timbre of her voice, always warm and musical, now canting to a whine as the ridges at his base slammed against her with each thrust.

Pressure coiled rapid and hot at his loins. Rolan slid off the mattress with legs braced, the pillow cast aside, and tugged frantically at his stiff length again. His tail arched and flicked behind him.

Through clenched eyelids he saw Tav laid at the foot of his bed, hair splayed in a messy crown against his sheets as she cried out his name. Her legs crossed behind his flanks to hold him deep inside her tight wet heat—

‘Rolan—’ She moaned louder, her heels digging into his lower back as he took her. Tav gripped two handfuls of the bedding underneath as he thrust relentlessly, chasing more of her heat around his cock, more of the delicious scent at her throat and between her legs—

“Rolan!”

“Fuck—” With a strangled gasp, Rolan’s hips stuttered one last time as his come spilled in ropes to the floor. Panting and shaking, he caught hold of the bed post with one hand as he frantically worked out the rest of his finish with the other. His head spun with the force of it.

But as he opened his eyes and his vision cleared, so did that cottony feeling in his ears. Someone was rapping insistently on the door to his room.

“Rolan, we need to talk—” Even muffled by the heavy wood, Tav’s voice was unmistakable.

“Fuck,” Rolan hissed again, this time with enough wits about him to panic. How much of that last performance could she hear through the door? He snatched up the nearest towel to wipe himself, then tripped away toward the pile of clothes on the floor that had lain untouched since yesterday.

“Go away,” he called tersely, nevertheless yanking the trousers up over his hips. Thank hells that last round had left him soft enough he could do up the laces for now.

On the other side of the door, she was undeterred. “I’m not leaving till I’ve seen you.”

Rolan cursed as one of his horns snagged the ties at the neck of his shirt. Once the fabric dropped over his torso, he whirled around to take in the state of his room.

Bedsheets pulled sideways from the mattress; pillows strewn across the floorboards; air thick with the smell of him. Absolute filthy shambles.

Using a rush of energy he couldn't afford, he cast a mass prestidigitation spell on the space. The improvement in the air was immediate. But the resulting light-headedness caused him to stumble forward; he caught himself with a hand braced on the door frame.

“I'm not joking,” Tav called loudly, unaware he was now much closer.

He could have yelled at her to wait outside for another week, then, if he wasn't so sure she was stubborn enough to actually do so. After all, this was the person who’d defeated an Elder Brain and taken on several gods in the process.

That…and he found he badly wanted to see Tav in the flesh. Hearing her voice from just beyond his bedroom door only increased that desire. Rolan’s tail lashed behind him in helpless frustration.

“What do you want?” He asked instead, lowering his voice. No use broadcasting any more of this conversation to the whole Tower.

There was a pause on the other side of the oak paneling. “I’ve barely seen you since I got here,” Tav’s voice replied, matching his volume.

“And?”

“And I'm worried about you…obviously,” she added. “Cal and Lia said you’re sick. But I’d feel better if we could talk face to face.” Even through the barrier between them, he could hear a strain in her voice. She wasn't lying.

Rolan rested his horns against his braced forearm with a sigh. “Tav, I swear I'm perfectly fine.”

“Then just open the door a moment. Please, Rolan?”

It was far too pleasant to hear her say his name outside of his own imaginings. Rolan glanced down at himself. Barefoot, shirt untucked, but technically presentable. And not pitching a tent for once in the past twenty-four hours.

“If I do, will you leave?”

There was another pause. “If you want me to,” came the reply. He unbolted the latch and drew it open to shoulder width.

The wave of Tav’s scent hit him almost before he registered her face in front of him. The sweetness of it overwhelmed his other senses for a moment. It tested all Rolan’s limited reserves of sanity not to grab her by the waist and pull her body against him.

Unaware of the silent struggle raging in his chest, Tav stood with face tilted up toward his. Her eyes had traveled over his figure immediately, checking him over with a worried little crease between her brows. Something at the side of his head caught her eye; Rolan realized his hair hung loose and rather sweaty, exposing the slender tips of his ears.

Her demeanor changed at the sight. Tav sighed, leaning her head against the flat of the door.

“You’re even handsome with a fever,” she told him softly.

Rolan blinked at her. Perhaps exhaustion and hormones were driving him to hallucinations. “What are you—”

Faster than he could react, her palms landed on either side of his face, and Tav pulled his mouth down to hers.

A burst of colors exploded behind his eyes; the sensation of her lips moving on his kindled the dormant heat in his body to wild blaze. She notched her hands upward as she kissed him, and her fingers slid up along the sensitive tapers of both his ears.

Rolan let out a hungry, animal sound against her mouth. Both hands landed on her back and crushed the line of her body forward into his, leaving no space between them. He could feel the soft hills of her breasts pressing against his chest through clothing. The warm scent rolling off her skin and hair surrounded him with dizzying force.

The higher part of his mind was screaming at him. Rolan desperately tried to focus on what it was saying; as he did, he caught the tang of wine on her lips. The discovery gave him just enough will to pull back from her.

And he did, with one jerking step back into his chambers. “You can’t be here.”

Tav stood panting through parted lips, eyes half-lidded as they traveled over him. Rolan felt flames lick his skin everywhere they moved.

“Why not?” She breathed. “I wanted to see you.”

“You’re drunk,” he told her. He rather felt that way himself, still reeling from the electricity of kissing her.

Tav pouted at that, and Rolan wished to bite that lower lip firmly between his teeth. “I’m not drunk,” she corrected. “I’ve had a drink. There’s a difference.”

“You wouldn’t be here if—”

“If what?” Tav watched him as she took a step closer. Rolan stepped back in tandem, reflexive. She was well over the threshold now. “If I knew what was really happening to you?”

Those words sounded much more knowing than he liked. Rolan stared at her, trying to read into her face. He swallowed against the dry lump of his tongue and went out on a limb. “Which one of them told you?”

Tav shook her head. “Cal and Lia have been nothing but discreet.”

“Then how could you possibly understand?” He demanded. The very recent discovery of how soft Tav’s lips were was making it very difficult to maintain this conversation. He could still feel the way her body had pressed into him.

One corner of her mouth twitched. “Rolan, I’d like to think I’m not completely oblivious. There have been…signs. And I’ve had a lot of time to think about them. I’ve been at the Elfsong all afternoon, just—thinking.”

At that, Rolan felt his tail twitching nervously behind him. “I see,” he replied. Pivoting, like an idiot, trying to pretend this was a perfectly acceptable conversation to have with the woman who occupied most of his thoughts when he was pleasuring himself. “And you think that I—that my—”

Tav made a quick twisting motion to get around the door. She latched it and drew the bolt closed behind them, then turned back to him.

“A lot of humans have heard rumors about Tieflings,” she confessed. “Some stupid, but some credible. I’m saying this is maybe not the secret that you think it is.” As he watched, a much deeper blush spread over Tav’s cheeks. She glanced away to the side.

“Rolan…I grew up in the Dales, remember? Around rabbits, and cattle, and oxen. Half my friends lived on farms.”

Her analogy couldn’t be clearer. To hear her lay it out so plainly—Rolan felt the last dregs of his pride shrivel up and die. He gripped two palms over his eyes and let out a groan of abject humiliation, turning away to the middle of the room.

How early had she connected the dots? The moment she felt him brazenly place a hand around her? Had she known all along that he was locked up here, rutting into every one of his pillows?

“Look, Rolan, I’m sorry—I didn’t know how else to say it—”

Completely overwhelmed by his embarrassment, he hadn’t heard her follow. When Rolan finally dropped his hands from his face, he turned to find Tav standing very close to his chest.

“And I’m sorry for kissing you before,” she blurted out. “I mean, I’m not sorry for it…I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, to be honest. But it wasn’t fair. I just…wanted to know how you’d react.”

Rolan watched as her chest rose and fell heavily where she stood. The look in her eyes made his blood pound through his veins. He felt an urge to reach out and smooth back her hair to bring her in for another kiss, one he resisted.

“I care about you,” Rolan told her, before he could lose his nerve. “Our friendship. I respect you, Tav, it’s not worth—muddying things with this.”

He felt fingers lacing through the ones that hung at his side, and despite his words Rolan tightened his grip automatically. Her hand was so pleasantly cool against the heat of his skin.

“Why do you think I’m here?” Tav answered earnestly. “I care about you, too. If I can help, I want to. Please—”

She was so close to him; Rolan breathed shallowly, but the warm scent rolling off her skin and hair nevertheless swept past him with dizzying force.

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he managed hoarsely.

She didn’t falter. “Then tell me what else you think I should know.”

His senses were growing clouded with her; the offer that had tumbled so easily from her rang in his ears. It made the thread of Rolan’s control stretch dangerously taut.

“I won’t be gentle,” he warned.

His inadvertent shift in tone changed something in the air between them. There was a crackling energy that hadn't been there a second before.

Tav licked her lips as she watched him. “Good.”

Rolan thought he might melt from the heat that spread across his skin. His tail snapped against the mattress behind him. If she moved a step closer, she’d feel how hard he was in his pants.

“Mating bites,” he went on hoarsely. “I’ll mark you. Quite a lot. I’ll try not to draw blood, but…I can’t promise it.”

Tav nodded. “What else?” She asked, encouraging him to go on.

Rolan swallowed against the embarrassment. But this was important for her to know. “This time for us, it’s all about…reproduction. We become quite virile.” He nearly choked, but there was simply no other way to put it. “For the urges to pass quicker, I need to come in you.”

Tav let out a throaty hum of approval. His cock twitched in his pants at the sound. “That’s fine, I take preventatives—it’s safe.”

They stood looking at each other for another moment. That shivery, electric feeling buzzed in the air around them. Rolan wondered if she could hear the way his heart drummed against his ribs.

Tav leaned in slightly. “Well…” She said, and her wet tongue passed nervously between her lips again.

That taut thread in his chest snapped in two. Rolan crushed her up against him with a whimper. Arms circling around her waist, he nudged a thigh between her legs and firmly ground their hips together.

Tav matched his eagerness. Their lips crashed together; at the back of his mind, he felt her grip cradling under each of his ears. Her fingertips licked like flame against his scalp.

Even through layers of clothing, he could feel the heat of her. Rolan jerked her hips forward harder against his thigh; the swelling length of his cock pressed against her soft, yielding center. Tav dipped her head back from the kiss, arching into him with a moan, and her fingertips laced at the nape of his neck.

It offered an irresistible angle at the column of her throat. Rolan’s claws raked back in her hair, pulling it to a tight ponytail. Then he tugged firmly, holding her open as his mouth descended on her neck.

He kissed and sucked along the band of muscle from her ear to the curve of her shoulder, then parted his lips to bite down firmly on her soft flesh.

“Yes,” Tav moaned in approval above him. Her hips rolled into his, grinding herself against the hard cock straining in his pants. Rolan felt her pulse skip against his mouth. Only when he tasted sweet copper did he pull away, laving his tongue over the crimson pin-pricks of his teeth into her skin.

He took only a moment to admire the trail of marks blooming along her neck. Tav was already pulling him in for another kiss. Their lips crashed together with bruising force; her tongue explored, tasting, searching for proof of her blood against his tongue and moaning against him when she found it.

Her scent filled his mind. Without breaking from her mouth, he plucked open the laces of her pants. Rolan slipped his hand under the waistband, beneath her smalls, and slid two fingers to dip down between her legs. Her folds were shining-slick; as he nudged her in circles, a trickle of her arousal rolled down his fingers. She shivered prettily under his touch.

“You’re soaked,” Rolan groaned against her neck.

“All because of you,” she breathed without hesitation. “Been wanting this, gods, wanting you for months. Your hands on me—cock in me—”

At the words he withdrew his fingers from her impatiently, then sucked them clean. Her sweet taste on his tongue made his cock ache. She scarcely had time to curse at the sight before Rolan gripped both arms around her waist to lift her into him.

With one quick pivot, he landed her down on the bed with his frame pressed into her. Her legs hung off the edge from the hip down, and he used the position to grind the stiff length in his pants against her cleft.

Even fully clothed, it was maddening. He could feel the wet patch between her legs, and when she arched further into him, a primal growl rumbled in his chest.

Tav’s fingers were brushing at his sides, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Off,” she panted impatiently.

Rolan tilted back to rip the garment up over his horns, immediately reaching for her own once his was free. He stripped her frantically, ripping her smallclothes in two before he could work them down her thighs.

When she lay bare beneath him, moaning and arching into everywhere he touched, he was overcome with hunger for more of her taste.

Rolan gripped her hips, dragging her with a jerk to the edge of the bed. With her glistening folds displayed before him, all he could do was drop to his knees and bury his tongue between them.

The sounds she made were like sweet music as he explored her. He sucked and massaged her slit with his tongue, then plunged it as deep within her walls as he could. His eyes rolled back in his head. Her taste surrounded him; his nose brushed her clit as he ate her, further overwhelming his senses with the scent of her arousal.

“Gods, yes, Rolan—” Tav moaned above him as her hands flew to grip each of his horns. She alternately tugged them and arched into his mouth, grinding her clit against his face.

He wanted to hear her say his name like that another thousand times. Rolan curled his tongue against her walls, determined to taste her even deeper, but to no avail. Without his sharp nails, he would have sunk two fingers into her.

Instead, as his mouth left her, the ridged end of his tail looped around to brush over her slit.

“Ah—” Tav gasped from the bed. One of her hands left him to prop up on an elbow to look.

He watched her face in adoration as his tail slid between her soaked lips, coating itself in a mixture of her arousal and his saliva. Once it was thoroughly wet, he let the heart-shaped tip push experimentally into her.

Whatever hesitation he had evaporated at the way she arched and keened. He pushed in further, inch by inch, hissing in breath at how tight and wet her walls squeezed around him. Rolan felt his cock leaking between his legs at the sight of his tail disappearing into her plush cunt.

“Taking my tail so well,” Rolan praised without thinking, then groaned. “Fuck, Tav, you’re so tight—”

“Don’t stop,” she demanded, breathless.

When he felt the tip brush the limits of her insides, he held it steady as she panted down at him. Her mouth hung open in anticipation as she watched him lean in again for her center.

But instead of landing on her clit, his mouth met with the soft skin of her inner thigh and sucked it firmly between his teeth.

Tav gave a little yelp of pain, but her walls constricted around his tail so hard he moaned against her flesh. He left two more lovely red marks against her thigh before withdrawing his tail from her, leaving only the tip inside her silk.

Then he thrust back into her and took up a forceful rhythm of stretching her open on his tail.

“Fucking gods,” she gasped, gripping both his horns again. He felt her use them as leverage as she bounced her hips down to meet him.

“Like this, don’t you?” Rolan urged her on, drunk off her desire. “Fucking yourself on my tail—” He leaned down to take another taste of her clit, swirling and sucking as the ridges on his tail dragged more wetness out of her with each thrust.

“Yes,” Tav moaned, shaking under him as his tongue worked over her clit. “Feels so perfect in me, so—ngh—!”

When he flicked the tip of it up inside her, Tav’s words stuttered to incoherence. He felt her inner walls clench and flutter, and repeated the motion over and over with each thrust.

“I’m—oh, oh ohohoh—”

She dissolved into soft cries. The muscles at her core tensed and shuddered as she climaxed against his tongue. Rolan withdrew his tail from her with a slick release, instead clasping his mouth over her to lap down the sweet taste that poured from her. His pants were so wet he was nearly convinced he’d already come, but he felt his cock straining against the fabric just as firmly.

When her thighs collapsed limp to either side, Rolan pushed himself to his feet for a look at her. Tav’s eyes were bright, cheeks flushed with arousal, her hair coiled out in wild tendrils that framed her like a crown. Their eyes met; with both hands on his arms, she pulled him down for a kiss.

Rolan landed braced on his forearms. Their tongues slid and pushed together, trading the taste of her release. When he felt her reaching between them to undo his laces, he pulled away to loose them and strip off the rest of his clothes.

Tav reached for his erection, and before he’d steadied himself, she gripped his length to drag the generous droplets of precum around his tip with her thumb. His hips bucked into her.

“Eager, aren’t you?” She teased softly.

“Yes,” Rolan groaned. Tav’s soft hand was around his cock for the first time; it was all he could do to locate words. He knew his face was flushed and tense with arousal, but Tav only looked up at him with appreciation from where she lay back on his bed.

When she guided his length across the wet of her core, he rocked his hips to drag his ridges across her. She shivered slightly, still sensitive, but rolled into him.

“Need you,” Rolan panted, not sure whether he was asking her or begging. “Tav—please—”

Tav’s hand lined him up with her entrance. When his leaking tip nudged inside her, Rolan pushed forward with one slow, determined cant of his hips.

The cool slick of her walls clutched each inch of him so perfectly. A low groan rose in Rolan’s throat—this was the closest thing to real satisfaction that he’d gotten in days, and he hadn't even started moving yet.

“So good,” Tav said under him, voice sweet and husky. “Keep going—”

Rolan braced his hands against her hips. He pulled out slowly, legs shaking beneath him, then pushed back into the tight plush of her.

His hips took up a firm pace, and Rolan couldn't bite back his whines as he plunged his cock inside her. Whatever his fevered imagination had conjured, it was nothing compared to this—he fell over her again, fangs skating against her breast as her body rocked under him with each thrust.

“Yes, yes, fuck—” Tav was just as breathless as her fingers gripped the infernal ridges on his shoulder blades. She tugged, egging him on.

Rolan took the invitation with enthusiasm. He nipped and sucked around the swell of her breast, breathing in lungfuls of the sweetness rolling off her skin.

“Harder,” Tav begged, the words vibrating against his lips. The hunger inside him surged in agreement.

Rolan’s lips fastened over one nipple. He sucked, hard, letting his tongue roll her against his teeth. Tav let out a whimper, but he felt her legs crossing around his hips as he continued to bury himself in her.

Rolan pulled away to look at her face. A mist of sweat dusted her brow; Tav’s lips were parted and twitching with silent words.

“Look at me,” Rolan ordered, still filling her with his cock in a steady rhythm.

Tav obeyed, her eyes shining and pupils blown wide. He straightened away from her, never breaking, and laid a hand each on her calves. Then he pushed up, folding her legs to her chest and opening up her cunt even deeper for him.

“You look so beautiful like this, Tav,” he told her, thighs trembling with the effort of keeping his pace slow and steady. “Folded in half in my bed. Stretched around my cock so perfectly.”

In response, Tav’s hands grabbed her knees, pulling herself open even further to each side. “Is this how you imagined it?” She asked wickedly. “All alone—wishing it was me and not your own hand—”

Heat prickled across his neck and shoulders, but Rolan was too far gone to feel shame. He couldn't resist breaking eye contact, however, watching the way his cock stretched open her dripping cunt.

“Just like this,” he panted in answer. She took in breath to respond, but he was already slamming back into her at a reckless pace.

The lewd, wet sounds of his thrusts filled the room, layered with their chorus of whines and moans. Rolan shuddered at how slick and tight she was around him, perfectly gripping each inch of his needy length. His cock throbbed in anticipation of a satisfying release, finally, after all these times of not quite enough—

“I’m close,” he panted, gripping her hips to pull her down deeper onto his cock. The tip of him nudged against the limits of her walls. “Where should—”

“Inside,” Tav insisted, still holding herself wide for him. “Only inside, Rolan, want you to fill me up—fuck—”

The imagery pushed him over the edge, and he did just that. With a throb of release, he felt his cock pulsing and filling her deepest walls with his seed. His hips stuttered into her as he pushed his spend as far into her as he could reach.

Tav clutched his shoulders as he came, humming and moaning out praises for him. Their hips rocked together, nudging his coated length back against her deep center.

Tav went tense under him. He forced his eyes open and saw her lips parted in surprise.

“I’m—oh—!”

She gasped in shock as her own climax gripped her. Rolan hissed in breath at the way she clenched and fluttered so suddenly around him. His length was still hard, and his ridges pulsed against her.

As she drifted back down, Tav’s eyes finally lit on him in a daze. “What…what was that?”

Rolan was abruptly reminded of how many ruts he’d spent without a partner. “I'm sorry, I should've warned you,” he confessed. It was hard to form his thoughts while still inside her. “During the cycle…infernal traits get stronger. Like incubi. Helps attract a partner.” Somehow this explanation was more embarrassing than any of the other filth he’d just spoken to her.

Tav stared up at him. “You're saying your come is going to make me come?”

“Essentially.” Rolan shifted inside her slightly, still not confident he was done. “I apologize—I didn't think to tell you. Is that a problem?”

“Rolan—” Tav let out a breathless laugh, and the sound went straight to his chest. “This is the exact opposite of a problem. Just a bit of a shock, that's all.”

The lovely sight of her happy and satisfied under him was too much to resist. Rolan leaned forward on his arms to kiss her, trapping her legs between their chests.

As her hand stroked softly under his jaw, Rolan felt a second ache settling in his loins. He released her lips for just long enough to push her legs out over his hips, then ducked back down for her mouth.

He rolled his hips into her slower this time, but it was somehow more intense. Their lips stayed connected as he drove into her deep. Her walls were slippery with arousal and his own seed, and they gripped like pure silk around his cock. Her opening slid over the sensitive ridges at his base with each thrust.

When he dipped a thumb between their bodies to rub circles over her clit, Tav broke away with a little gasp.

“I can’t again,” she said, panting.

“You can,” he told her simply. “Hold on to me—”

She did, wrapping both arms and legs firmly around him as if he was her anchor. Rolan dipped his head to her neck as he doubled his pace, their hips slotting together with each brisk slide into her. He breathed deep against the curve of her shoulder.

Still so hungry for release, it wasn't long before he came again hard. This time he just barely pumped his spend into her before he pulled out to look down.

Sticky white seed dribbled out of her slit, running down toward her hole. He dipped the thumb circling her clit down to swipe it back up across her cunt, painting his come across the bundle of nerves at her peak.

Tav’s thighs twitched under him, and she gripped his arm tight with one hand. She swore as he continued flicking across her clit with the wet pad of his thumb, then whined out his name.

While her next orgasm nearly doubled her in half, Rolan tilted his head to watch the sight between her legs. She was soaked, twitching, utterly intoxicating. Her contracting walls pushed more of his spend out of her; it flowed generously from her slit and soaked down into the bedding below.

Finding himself now utterly spent, Rolan collapsed on his back next to her. As he did, he realized his legs had grown fatigued to the point of buckling from the exertions. He let his body sink heavy into the mattress.

“I made a mess on your sheets,” Tav panted from beside him.

Rolan groaned at her descriptive language. The fact that his length continued softening was a sign his urges were finally giving him a reprieve, however. “It was mostly my fault.”

She only let out a weak breath of laughter.

Too tired to trust his shaking legs, he reached an arm blind over the side of the bed and snatched up the first fabric it touched. His discarded shirt.

Pushing himself seated, he gently reached to dry between Tav’s legs. One of her hands traced the ridges on his back as he quietly tended to her.

“How long before the next?” She asked him.

“An hour or two.” Rolan didn't look at her. “Tav, you've done more than enough for m—”

The mattress shifted as she sat up and turned his face into a waiting kiss. It was soft, just a chorus of little presses across his lips.

When Tav pulled away, she tucked the damp curtain of his hair behind one ear. “Rolan, unless you want me to go, I'm staying until it’s over.”

Rolan cast a glance over her. Despite the fact that she was naked in his bed and covered in blooming bruises from his mouth, she was very much the same Tav as ever. “Thank you,” he told her quietly.

She pushed him onto his back with a sudden laugh, landing with her chest pressed to his. “What an utterly Rolan thing to say,” she mused. “Need I remind you I just came three times?”

Tav was teasing him, and was of a mind to put her in her place—only he found that none of his limbs wanted to move at the moment. Instead, his only response was a deep hum as his eyelids drooped shut.

He felt the mattress shift as she rose and wished he could reach out to stop her. But a moment later she curled up next to him again, dragging a soft quilt over their bodies.

Rolan turned inward to rest his head on Tav’s chest—and fell into his first real slumber in days.

#spicy #rolan x tav #tiefling ruts #rolan smut #heat/rut cycles #female tav #bg3 rolan #tiefling biology #bg3 fanfiction #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams

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yuri-is-online · 5 months

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And Your Name Is? (Deuce, Azul, and Floyd)

After successfully resolving whatever was causing NRC to be trapped in an endless time loop of overblotting and disaster, one last reset should give him a chance to experience a normal school year with you. But instead you find yourself trapped in the here and there, appearing as a vague shadow around the school that vanishes as soon as he catches up to you. The kind thing to do would be to allow you to be forgotten in the chance it lets you return to your world.

But this is Twisted Wonderland where the kind thing is seldom done, and he wants you back as much as you want to find him again.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, we are back in business bby, these three are by request, next up are Lilia, Jamil, and Grim! Angst with the intent of comfort, if you like this please consider checking out my masterlist for the previous three parts.

Deuce

"Don't go where I can't follow."

Deuce has said that many times before. He wonders if you thought he didn't mean it or had taken it as a joke, and truly he cannot decide which is worse. He had foolishly thought when he first woke up and saw the school year begin anew that he could relax knowing he wouldn't need to chase you across an ocean into the depths of S.T.Y.X. He should have known it wouldn't be that easy, his memories of you might have been scattered across time and space but he knew with certainty this set back did not surprise him.

"Are you alright?" Trey's concern does not go unappreciated, but Deuce can't really bring himself to respond out loud. "You seem a bit distracted." There are countless wishing stars hung above him in the trees, he wishes he remembered if any of the wishes he heard had been the same. He knows his no longer is.

"Let him be." Idia surprisingly in the flesh, but still draped like a wet cat over the drums. "We can afford to take a break anyway." His seniors move away as Deuce remains staring up at the wishing stars. Yuu is sort of the same color as them now, and just as ephemeral.

"Do you remember this?" The starsender robes don't feel as special anymore, he wants to be proud that he was really meant for this task seeing how time itself has seen fit to make him repeat it. "I only remembered to ask you what your wish was after... I think you passed it off as me being dumb but I don't think that's what happened now. Somehow I knew if I asked you to make a wish what you would say." A gentle breeze sways the little lights above his head as Deuce tries to spot the star Trey had helped him make. "I meant what I said, I want you to see just how cool I'll look in my officer's uniform. I want to make my mom and grandma proud, and I want you to come home and be proud of me with them." Sometimes he swears he can feel your head leaning on his shoulder, your arms embracing him from behind, your voice carried by the breeze drowning out shouts for him to come back to reality and pay attention to his surroundings. There's a legend in Twisted Wonderland about a man that dives into the Underworld to rescue his beloved, you had told him your world has the same story but it has a different ending. Deuce doesn't want to think about that as his hands curl around where yours should be, just over his rapidly beating heart. "I wish," he already has but he swears the star twinkles with magic in response all the same "for Yuu to come home." He squeezes your hand and jumps when he finds purchase, your weight forcing him to stumble forward and crash as he rapidly tries to turn and see your face.

Idia and Trey make noises of surprise, he thinks that they're talking but he can't seem to hear them above the sound of your heavy breaths. "I'm back Deucey." You whisper softly into the evening air.

"Welcome back Yuu." He hopes you never make him let you go again.

Azul

There is a mournful song flowing through this strange cold place you have found yourself. It's familiar, but you swear you have never heard it before, perhaps it is the voice you find yourself stumbling towards and not the music itself.

"There you are." It's pleased with itself this voice. "Come to spend some time with me again?" You don't know, you can't even really tell where you are. It looks like an office, but it is bereft of papers or any light. You feel more than see the desk at the center, the smooth grain of the wood chills your fingertips as you run along looking for something. A sigh rattles the room as you are dragged away, back to the mirror chamber by frighteningly cold darkness and you grope wildly around for the person you thought had been there with you. "Goodnight Yuu. I will see you tomorrow."

"Why can't you see me today?" You swear you speak but you hear no noise. And in the solid space you've left behind Azul leans back against his chair and studies the ceiling above him. He should be pleased. He had a theory and the tattered scraps of paper in his hand would seem to have proved it. Azul should be angry that your state demands such a sacrifice of him, he should be weighing the potential cost of this decision. Of saving you.

But instead he laughs.

"Yuu. Yuu, Yuu, Yuu. I wonder if I ever stood a chance." He knows the answer of course, but he wonders if it is as ingrained in your soul as it is his. ~~~~ "Do you believe in other worlds Yuu?" The voice is asking you a silly question, and you chase after it determined to tease. "And I don't mean like yours, I mean completely other realities where things even mages would find unbelievable exist." You manage to push yourself through the waters and begin to wander the purple and grey hued halls, desperately searching for someone you swear is here, his name on the tip of your tongue. "I admit it's not something I ever thought too much about, but after we got together the first time I would lie awake thinking about it. You and I meeting was never a guarantee, so why did it feel so much like fate? I think I asked you once."

"Don't underestimate me." You can hear yourself now, and the walls around you are coming into more solid focus. There is only one door between you and the person you have been searching for now. "I will find you in every lifetime." Delighted laughter moves towards you now, as the door opens to reveal the outline of a man, shimmering just like you.

"Yes that's exactly what you said." His hand is cold, you reach to catch it worried it will fall through you and almost sob as you both find the familiar sensation of the other's touch. "And I think I said, 'Well that's not threatening at all!' Because in my mind there was no other way for us to meet than as adversaries, but that didn't need to be true did it?" Azul's coat and scarf is slung over the back of his chair, your breath catches in your throat at the unusual sight of Azul in just his tuxedo. He preens under your attention, guiding you carefully towards the couch, hands trembling in equal relief, excitement, and still small fear that this was all a painful dream. The shredded remnants of carefully counted contracts can remain scattered across the desk behind you, yet he finds himself surprisingly unconcerned. He curls himself around you, sighing in content at the return of the warmth of your solid form. "I found you this time." You return his embrace with a half sob, the memory of the here and there cementing itself within your fears alongside the sheer relief of Azul's presence. "If other worlds do exist, if time gets re-set again, even if you are forced to return to where you came from, please don't underestimate me either. We found each other once, and we will in every timeline we exist." He kisses your hand and dares reality to prove him wrong.

Floyd

"Man every day's a party when I'm with you. I can't get enough!" He had really meant it, but he could see the doubts still flickering behind that smile.

"Glad you had fun Floyd."

Had. You were glad he "had" fun not "was having." It was an odd thing to get caught up on, Floyd didn't fully understand why it soured his mood so much himself. There was always this carefully crafted barrier between the two of you, carefully built up by you that he never noticed until it was too late. Until little shrimpy was just Yuu and the nickname became a facade to deny the depth of his emotions.

It was silly to think that he was the only one lying to himself.

"Y'know you can't stay all ghostie like that forever." He tries to poke you, disappointed in how you shimmery form neither disappears nor wavers. "It's not good for your health." Floyd has never had the smoothest of emotions, they tumble around his chest like waves, but he knows them to be consistent. He hates standing in place and doing the same thing over and over, he loves it when people make stupid mistakes and he gets to watch them blow up (sometimes literally) in their face, and he hates how predictable he has been. The jumbled memory of countless looping timelines and never once did he do anything more than maybe chase you around a little and come up with excuses to monopolize your attention. Floyd wants to squeeze himself, that's what this entire situation already feels like anyway. "Say do you know what humans used to say about merfolk?" His mood twitches back to something like happiness as he rolls his head up from lying on the library table up onto his hands. "They thought that when we died we turned into sea foam cause we didn't have souls. Isn't that silly! Say Yuu, which one of us looks like foam now huh?" Floyd hasn't cried since he was a fry, but these past few days he feels like he has done little but cry and sleep. In his dreams he gets to re-write his impossible memories to be a little lighter, he gets to drop the nickname and call out to you and have you cry out to him in return. In his dreams everyday is still a party and not a waking nightmare. Your hand, or maybe he is delusional and has begun to dream yet again, reaches towards him, fighting its foamy nature to try and touch his head.

"I like you." He had said it into your neck while you died that time, still lying to save himself some face in case that was the last thing you wanted to hear. "C'mon dance with me Yuu!" He had tried hyping himself up in his head, all words dying in his throat when he finally spun you away from Crabby and Mackerel calling you shrimpy once again.

"I love you." Why is he only brave enough to say it now when he swears it won't actually matter? "I think I've loved you since the first time ya tricked Azul and then immediately every time I saw you after. So come back yeah? I thought I had all the time in the world but I don't, and I ain't ever gonna be board of having you around..." The foam flickers, and for a brief delusional moment Floyd thinks he sees your proper face. "You know that, right?"

"I love you too." It's watery, he feels the answer somewhere in his soul rather than hears it as you crash under your own weight back into reality and onto the hard wood of the NRC library. His laughter cackles up and out across the whole school as he leaps across and over to catch you up and soothe your bruises with soft kisses, not at all the activity Jade expects to find him engaged in when he follows rather than flees at the noise.

"Mine." He kisses your pulse point and you wonder, not for the first time but with much more joy than sorrow, why it was his hand you were searching for. "My Yuu." Floyd purrs, a dangerous tittering laugh of genuine relief convincing you of his genuineness more than anything else.

If he was going to get bored of you, he would have done it timelines ago.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #deuce spade x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #floyd leech x reader #tried to spice this one up idk if it worked

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sapphorror · 3 months

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The relevance of chronology in IZ is dubious at best (in the show—it is flat-out non-existent in the comics), but I do kind of love to think about it regardless because there are so many weirdly specific points of internal continuity, practically and sometimes even emotionally, that we can't pretend there's absolutely nothing to examine there, even if the degree to which it matters is next to null. And anyway, I love a fool's errand.

So with that disclaimer I'd just like to talk about everyone's favorite organ harvesting episode and how much it kills me when examined in the context of an on-going continuity, because it's not just one of the most horrifying things Zim ever does across canon, it's really the first horrifying thing that Dib is present to bear witness to, at least on that scale. For all that NanoZim must've been scary and violating on a personal level, it was ultimately still a contained, targeted attack, and not even an unjustified one—not that Dib would consciously think of it this way, but Zim was acting in reasonable self-defense, he just chose to be really brutal and vindictive as he did so. Plus, Dib did come out on top of that encounter, so there were no real lasting consequences besides losing his evidence, which only put him back to square one. Basically, it was a great basis for forming a personal grudge, but it didn't really say anything about how generally malicious or threatening Zim actually was outside the context of their quickly-coalescing rivalry. Zim's only a monster at this point insofar as it's fun for Dib to have a dragon to defeat. The danger he poses does not yet hang over Dib's head like a guillotine.

Dark Harvest, though. In Dark Harvest, Zim shows just how capable he is of committing brutality on total bystanders at a mass scale under much less urgent circumstances without so much as a trace of hesitation or remorse—and by the end of it, Dib learns firsthand how severe the consequences for losing to Zim can actually be. Healed through the miracle of the status quo reset button or not... well.

And this adds a lot of context to why Dib spends the rest of the series so totally convinced of the danger Zim poses, even if most of the time that POV is extreme overkill. If he ever starts to doubt the necessity of his mission, just think about the time Zim stole a bunch of kids' organs, and that's irrefutable proof that Zim CAN accomplish terrible things if left unchecked. If he ever starts to doubt the morality of his intentions, just think about the time Zim stole a bunch of kids' organs (and would do so again!), and he can rest easy knowing Zim deserves every terrible consequence coming for him. If he ever forgets why he absolutely cannot afford to let his guard slip for even a second, just think about the time Zim stole a bunch of kids' organs, including Dib's, and now he remembers exactly why it's so important Zim's never allowed to gain the upper-hand. Even when he finally ditches Zim in Mopiness of Doom, it's not because he stops seeing Zim as a threat, it's that he's gotten too burnt out on single-handedly saving the world all the time to care.

(Gaz, of course, was there too and still thinks Zim is harmless, but Gaz also thinks expressing pain after having your entire lower body melted into off-brand bug spray makes you a whiner, so let's not put too much stock in her judgement here)

Even during Dark Harvest, Dib's immediate response upon finding Zim is to tell him this is totally beyond the pale, as if Zim might actually care—and while Dib trying to convince Zim he's acting totally unhinged isn't exactly unusual throughout the show, past this point he usually does so by appealing to Zim's self-interest ("stop trying to blow up the planet, you're still ON the planet") rather than any hypothetical better nature or good sense, can you even imagine. But that's exactly what he does here, reflexively or not, and that to me is a perfect demonstration of how this episode marks a radical shift in what Dib thinks he's up against.

And for some bonus meta? This also stretches into The Wettening in a really fun way, which is the second episode after Dark Harvest and the first with Dib. The sheer glee Dib takes in exploiting the new-found weakness for all it's worth, just because he can, makes a lot of sense in the wake of Dark Harvest and his new understanding of Zim as an out-of-control inhuman lunatic he has no idea how to stop. Seeing Zim vulnerable to something, openly afraid, and in obviously agonizing pain—well, humanizes would be the wrong word under the circumstances, but it cuts him back down to mortal size. He might be tough, and he might be terrifying, but he's not invincible. Even after Zim very unambiguously wins that fight and finds a way to protect himself from Earth's water, the important take-away is that there are things that can hurt him—Dib just has to figure out what they are. If Dark Harvest is the episode that shows Dib Zim is truly a monster, The Wettening is the episode to teach him even real monsters can be defeated.

#invader zim #dib #zade #zadp #meta #my meta #iz posting #natterings

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henrysglock · 5 days

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You Speak Basic, Doc?

So. As a follow up to this post about the 2.08/2.09 HNL lights, I want to talk about something Wilbur just brought up in the server:

Very good fucking question. Why did he leave? And how did he end up in the stairwell that leads down to the basement?

Specifically, it's the same stairwell Bob just went down to reset the breakers and take the lab off lockdown:

(Which also, coincidentally, seems to be the same one El runs down in NINA to get to Henry and the tunnel out of the lab)

So...okay, cool. He was on his way to or from the basement after having left his little safe space in the upstairs security room.

That, however, brings me to another question: What is there for Owens to do in the basement?

Bob, as I said, went down there to reset the breakers and unlock the doors, because when the power cuts in HNL, the doors all lock. It's a lockdown.

So really...what else is there to do in the basement, besides no-scope demodogs and go "ooh" at the weird, pulsing mega-pussy gate? Owens doesn't have a gun, and he's been staring that weird, pulsing mega-pussy gate in the face for like a year now. Which means...it's probably not that.

So...could he have been trying to reinstate the lockdown by flipping the breakers Bob had fixed?

Well. Let's think about the "why"s of that.

First off, Owens knows firsthand that a lockdown isn't going to do shit against the demodogs.

A) The tunnels already allow them to circumvent the lab exits. Owens is aware of said tunnels.

B) The demodogs can smash through polycarbonate. Owens literally sees one do so.

So they could easily just tear right through any doors in their path. A lockdown makes no sense...for creatures.

No. Lockdowns are primarily for humans.

In fact...If I had to bet, the lockdown protocol in HNL has to do with the whole "keeping people from escaping the child torture basement" thing we see in ST4.

But...the prison-basement ended with El in 1983, right? So the question remains: What would Owens be locking down in the basement, and why hide his reasons for going downstairs?

Unless, of course, the prison-basement didn't end in 1983. And, of course, unless there's something worth securing down there that we're not yet privy to.

And along those lines: Why are so many demodogs staying in HNL? Why concentrate in the lab, when the tunnels will take them anywhere under Hawkins in pursuit of Will? There were more than enough to spread out and search. If it was about guarding the gate against El, they'd just leave some at the entrances, or swarm wherever she happened to be (which is where Will is, coincidentally). I thought Vecna could read minds even without an open gate. If he's supposedly involved in this...then why not just swarm the Byers house? Why still concentrate in the lab after they find out where Will is?

That is to say...what are they looking for, specifically in HNL, after they've found out that Will's left the building?

TL;DR: Owens...there wasn't someone down there that you needed to lock down, right? Someone to be retrieved later? Someone the democreatures might have a vested interest in finding?

#sam owens #st2 speculation #henry creel #<- not explicitly mentioned but definitely implied

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diabolikpersonals · 3 months

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sorry for such a broad question but in your opinion is laito a well written character relative to everyone in diabolik? i really Want to learn more about him but i also dont want to subject myself to All That and i just want to know if he's worth reading about or just a pile of interesting plot threads thrown together for shock factor and unfulfilled thematically.

like my current personal opinion (may be wrong) is that i dont feel satisfied with the idea of yui's love or proactiveness fixing laito in any way because it doesn't mesh well with the actual ideas surrounding his character and unpacking that love is not poison goes beyond romantic love or a singular place of understanding. additionally it doesn't feel earned it feels like a chore for the player to trudge though for the sake of reading. i dont want to read laito's story that bad if it's the case yet im intrigued by the things offered by his character like the processing of the deeply visceral way csa shatters who you are

I wanted to wait till I finished his CL to answer so I'd be fully caught up with laito's routes, but that'll take too long so.....!! I might change my answer later!! lmao

[tw laito stuff, csa and suicide, yeah]

I do think Laito's a well-written character but his stuff is really difficult to get through if you have certain triggers, so it's tough to recommend. Even beyond the csa stuff, Laito is in a real hurry to die and he makes several attempts throughout the series. There's a certain unique sort of awfulness, at least for me, involving scenes where a character fails a suicide attempt and then get even more upset and desperate about it. So I understand what you mean when you say you're not excited about putting yourself through it. They were the hardest routes for me to get through too :')

A lot of earlier games suffer from endings that are like "And the two lived happily ever after, and we're not gonna unpack all that stuff!" and Laito's routes are no exception, but if you can look past that and make it to LE, I wouldn't say that Laito gets fixed. He has an ending similar to Ayato's that's like, it feels like we fixed everything but in reality we couldn't overcome the core issue! They really seem to believe that Laito absolutely can't be happy or live a normal life the way he is now. He has to die and/or rewrite his memories to be comfortable loving someone. It's up to your tastes if that's satisfying or not, but I kind of love the bittersweetness of LE endings, and the way they feel like a happy ending until you think about them a little too hard.

What's interesting is that Yui's purehearted love often hurts Laito more than it helps him. He responds to love, from Yui or from his family members, with revulsion. There's jealousy when he interacts with straightforward characters like Yui or Ayato, like "If only I could be as simple and pure as you, but nope, I can't." He's very self-aware for a diaboy, which only makes it hurt more when he keeps arriving at the conclusion that he's rotten. He definitely makes progress, which is really satisfying to see, like how he gradually allows Ayato back in his life emotionally. But as of right now, the end of his arc is so, like, "I tried, really I did! But my perspective on love is fucked and I need a hard reset! Maybe I'll be normal in the next life but definitely not this one!! Bye!"

...So, it's hard to say if you'll be happy with it. I see a lot of mixed opinions concerning the LE endings. They often give the diaboy what he wants but not what he needs, so you're left going, "Wait, I don't know about this...!" A lot of people really hate these endings, but they actually get more interesting to me the more conflicted they make me feel...and oh boy, was I conflicted about this one! :'D

If it sounds interesting to you, too, and you don't mind some pretty brutal scenes along the way, give Laito's routes a try. His HDB will definitely make you mad though lol

#text

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riftfic · 8 months

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So, it's finally finished. Now what?

Well, a few things. First of all I have a surprise coming so don't peace out just yet. :) It might take a second, though. I feel like I have no right to ask for patience anymore lol but I promise I have something up my sleeve.

Second, as I mentioned in my notes after the epilogue, I'm considering writing an exploration of the aftermath. A slice of life thing about how the characters deal, kind of like what Steven Universe did with Future. I don't want to spoil the ending of Rift for anyone new or still reading, so I'll put the details below the cut.

And third of all . . . thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Having the completed story out in the world feels somehow both full and empty. It's been rocking around my head for years and to finally have it out of me is just . . . It's an odd emotion and I don't know how to describe it. I don't think I've been through something quite like this before.

What I will say is that I'm incredibly grateful to every person who read this story: past, present, and future. I'm not sure how far it would have gone without your support. Words aren't enough, but they're all I have.

Thank you so much. 💙

Now for the spoilery bits. ;)

The second part would primarily follow Dings as he navigates his new life on the Surface, reconnects with family and friends, tackles his trauma (both preexisting and from the void), and comes to grips with his mental illness. It would allow me to get into some things that weren't exactly relevant to Rift but I would like to explore. For instance, you might have noticed that Wingdings and Sans have very different perspectives on their mother's absence. There's a reason for that. He has hangups on humans for related reasons as well, which would be an obstacle to overcome. Their past has been left a mystery I'd like to excavate. And I don't know about you, but I personally want to see Dings and Papyrus bond already because dammit they barely know each other anymore and that sucks!

There's also a lot of potential to face how Frisk deals with the new normal. If I regret anything, it's that Sans took over the narrative of Rift to the point I felt there wasn't quite enough room to truly resolve Frisk's new perspective as Chara. Asriel was thrown to the backburner as well. That plus the reality about how the resets only affected those in the Rift's sphere of influence could lead to some interesting conflict. I imagine it's been really hard on Frisk. If anything, their arc in Rift took them to a darker place in contrast to Sans' heading to a lighter one.

Speaking of Sans . . . though he left off in a good place overall, there's the hard truth that Dings just isn't going to be the same after what he went through. The same is true for Sans, of course. There's potential for further healing and coming to terms with their relationship now versus then.

In short, it would mostly be about healing (as is pretty much everything I write, I've come to realize). Hurt/comfort like Rift but not nearly as high stakes or intense. It would be much lighter in tone: some comedic moments, some heartfelt ones, some tense ones. Slice of life, like I said.

What do you think? 😅

#undertale #undertale fanfic #rift #frisk #sans #gaster #fanfic #fanfiction #thank you

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thursdayinspace · 4 months

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But now I'm thinking about the dynamic between Jack and Ianto during CoE, the whole mess about being a couple or not, the way it hurts to see Jack pushing Ianto away like that. Especially when Jack had been the one to ask Ianto on a date in the first place, so he very much implied that that was where things were going for them - becoming a real couple.

Only then one thing leads to another and suddenly they *are* a couple and Jack panics and acts like it's the last thing he wants. Towards the end he has started actively downplaying and sabotaging their relationship. It feels like he's trying to make Ianto break up with him and that makes *so much sense*. Because he really actually fell in love; he's not just dating this guy, he can imagine a future with him, and that's the one thing he can never have. What does it have to feel like, knowing that everyone you love and everyone you ever will love will die and you'll have to live without them forever? It's no wonder he doesn't want to commit to anything because the more you love something the more it hurts to lose it.

But he can't leave Ianto. His heart has already made the commitment he can under no circumstances allow himself to make. None of that is a conscious thing. It's pure self preservation, pure survival instinct. He needs Ianto, but that need is the thing that will one day break him. So he needs Ianto to leave *him*. He needs Ianto to believe that there's nothing between them that's worth fighting for. (Whilst a small part of him maybe wants the opposite: Ianto convincing him that they're worth all the pain.)

That doesn't make it okay how he treats Ianto. But those two are really seriously NOT good at communicating. Ianto deserves more. Jack is pushing him away without any sort of explanation. And Ianto is so loyal and doesn't accept it even though it's obvious how hurt he is. I wish we'd had a chance to see how all of that would have evolved from there. Jack does not want to hurt Ianto, but he does, and at some point Ianto would have snapped. He loves Jack, but he would not have let himself be held at a distance forever, not after everything they'd been through and all their relationship development (very much including the audios here).

I would have loved to see their breaking point. The point where one of them would have said "okay, enough," and ended it. I think a proper breakup would have been what they needed, a real cut, to reset from there. To see what being apart is like - especially Jack. But Ianto as well. They NEVER TALK about each other's fears and insecurities and they need to. They wouldn't just see a relationship counsellor or sit down over a meal and talk about their feelings. They need a proper shock to wake them up. Maybe Ianto only almost dying in CoE, a miraculous last minute rescue? And then the two of them having all that between them, Jack's "I take it all back, but not him!" and Ianto's "I love you." That would be something to work through. It would be too easy for that to fix anything, but it would be pivotal enough for them to probably spiral completely out of control as they try to unravel the mess that is their relationship.

TL;dr: I think Jack lashed out because he couldn't leave Ianto but also didn't want the pain of losing him. Ianto deserved more than that. And I think no amount of talking could have fixed them at that point, but if they had let it break them, they might have found the strength to work through it and emerged from it stronger than ever.

And now I'm basically writing fic at this point so I'll stop.

#janto #ianto jones #jack harkness #I have feelings about them #it happens

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sukifoof · 4 months

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Hey! I've got a random Flowey question I thought of while drawing him and I'm curious about your opinion on it since you have awesome takes on him!

Do you think that being on the surface surrounded by so many new things, people and possibilities would be really enriching to him or do you think it'd be super overwhelming for him to have so much happening that's suddenly out of his control? Maybe he'd lowkey benefit from from being forced to be in a situation he can't control? What do you think?

ooo i actually think about this a lot.... something that comes to mind when i think about how he says everything was boring in the underground is that at any moment he could have allowed himself to just keep living and let the world go on naturally. but no he constantly resets and i think its because he finds comfort in the familiarity and that at least he knows everything that's going to happen. it's like how people are scared to go to therapy and get better because they're so used to being depressed that anything new and good is very overwhelming and almost feels wrong in a way

so i think being on the surface and being out of control would be EXTREMELY overwhelming and scary for him but also very good!! if he is to ever recover and move on from what happened he needs to have his control issues dealt with, which is why frisk makes such an impact. he HAS to simply accept that things are out of his hands now and he can't keep blaming himself for what happened and what might happen in the future, which i think is also why he warns us to let frisk live their life. his resets have all been caused by him wanting to go back or seeing what could possibly be done to get the outcome he wants

he's pretty much been living in a prison built from his regrets and being shown that he can't keep regretting everything and that the only way he will be able to get better is to accept that things are out of his metaphorical hands and stop placing so much blame on himself for things that WERE out of his control. him saying that he doesn't think he could do it all again says so much about how much he's changed since frisk first fell and it's likely from kind of being able to view his situation through someone else... he really struggles to understand others but frisk is the one person he feels he Can understand so whatever he says to them must count for him too. something something if frisk has the power to reset and go back but chooses to keep living what is stopping flowey from doing the same

so yeah i think being on the surface would be deeply upsetting in several ways, especially cuz he likely feels a lot of guilt that chara couldn't have been there to see the monsters freedom and that if they're gone maybe he shouldn't be allowed to enjoy this. but also his relationship with frisk and realizing he is out of control is really good for him and that despite how overwhelming the surface might be at first i think after a good amount of therapy he'll be able to be mostly happy and accept the world hes in now <3

apologies if this is written poorly i have covid and the flu but OUGH i love post pacifist flowey more than anything in this world. i was thinking about a post pacifist au taking place a few years after the barrier broke and he gets better control over his amalgamate powers or whatever and he can accept that despite everything hes still him even if hes not the asriel he feels hes supposed to be

#undertale #utdr #flowey #asriel #asriel dreemurr #utdr analysis

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floralembarrassment · 1 year

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Figuring it out (1/1) (jegulus)

James cringes as he hears the door open. He quickly swipes his hands over his cheeks to hide any evidence of the tears that had spilled over his face. He quickly takes a deep breath, holding it in in an attempt to control it, to reset it. He fixes his face into a grin, trying to find that James Potter grin that has come to feel like a personal betrayal.

When he looks up, Regulus is standing with his hands behind his back having just shut and locked the door. He didn’t step farther than the threshold of the astronomy tower, and he was just observing James with dewey grey eyes.

James’ mask falters just slightly. “Hey,” he breathes out, desperate to hide the exhaustion behind his voice.

Regulus sees right through it, but for some reason he has more patience than he knew possible for James. He lets it slide. “Hi,” he says back a smile forming on his lips. “I thought I’d find you here,” Regulus offers as he steps cautiously closer to James.

He watches James’ expression break, tears falling quickly again as he rambles out apologies: “Regulus, I’m so sorry I ran away the other day. I just - I just am so confused, and–and I was surprised. I wanted to kiss you. I just didn’t know what it all meant, I still don’t know what it all means. I’m just so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you which I know doesn’t matter because I did, but still I just… I really like you and I don’t know what that means or who I am,” James' words tumble out of his mouth.

Regulus closed the distance between them as James spoke, “its okay James, it's really okay.”

“No it's- I’m just, I’m trying to figure it all out,” James rushes to speak.

“James,” Regulus says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It's okay, really. I understand. You can take all the time you need. It's different for me, because I already knew I was gay. You are allowed time to figure out what this all means for you.”

And James lets Regulus’ words wrap around him like a warm hug. He craves that comfort to never end so he reaches out, and when Regulus responds, James pulls him in tight.

“I wish I had met you, when I was younger,” James whispers into Regulus’ shoulder. “I just - everyone thinks they know me, and expects me to be a certain way. What if- what if they don’t like me anymore or, or… Regulus I don’t know if I even like who I was, now.” And then he is sobbing, and Regulus is holding him.

“Alright James, it's alright,” Regulus soothes, slowly running his fingers through James’ hair. “Your friends and parents love you for you, and if this is who you are they will keep loving you.” James sniffles in response.

“Take all the time you need, and I’ll be here.” Regulus reassures.

“I really like you,” James whispers, and he pulls back from Regulus to look at him. Regulus moves his hands to wipe the tears off James’ cheeks. “I know that might be confusing and I’m sorry for that, but I do like you Reg,” James says through a whimpering lip.

Regulus leans their foreheads together, and whispers back: “I really like you too, James. I really like you too.”

#jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #marauders #regulus is ridiculously sweet but only for James #fanfic #lgbtq+#james fleamont potter #regulus arcturus black #marauders fandom #marauders era #fluff and angst #coming out #harry potter #heartstopper

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keep-the-wolves-close · 2 months

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Steady Heart

Chapter 27: Sound off the Sirens

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M

* Warnings: language, angst, Malcolm Beck 🤢

* Word count: 2,743ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all!

Author's note: Okay, one more before I actually follow my posting rule for a bit until I catch up some lol. From this chapter until like chapter 38, are my favorite bunch of chapters so far lol. I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well!

Stella went about her morning routine, well late afternoon routine, since she let herself sleep most of the day away. She was taking it easy. John had given her the day off, and she gave herself off from caring today. The last few weeks, hell few months, had been wild. She needed to reset. The horses would be just fine without her for one day.

She idly walked around the house, cleaning as she went, heading toward the laundry room with towels from the upstairs bathroom. Her cheek smarted off and on. She was irritated at the feeling. There was a lot of wishing that she had taken a different route of distraction. ‘Shoulda busted out a window.’ She giggled at herself.

Then there was the problem with Kayce. Well, it was her problem really. She felt so stupid. Of course he missed Monica. She was the love of his life. They had worked hard to build the relationship they had. Stella was just the outsider. She couldn’t believe she had the gall to think that Kayce would choose her over Monica. Of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t back before he met his wife, and he most definitely wouldn’t now.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears for herself. Clearing her throat she shook her head. Even though she clearly heard him admit they hadn’t reconciled anything, it still didn’t make her feel any better. She never thought she would be in the position of being the “other woman”. It was done and over with. Stella convinced herself that she had to push the feelings away and just go to work and do her thing and leave. She might even talk to John about moving to that new position sooner.

There was a knock on her front door that pulled her from her pity party. Her front door was out by the road, and in her kitchen. Anyone who would have come here knew she used the back door. Her eyebrows knitted together. It couldn’t be her brother considering they had crossed words the last time they spoke. It definitely wasn’t Kayce because Stella was absolutely convinced that Rip scared him off enough last night.

The only person, well maybe two people, from the ranch it could have been would be Lloyd coming to check on her, or Rip bringing her car to her. Anyone else would have just called. She dropped the arm load of towels unceremoniously in front of the washer with a huff.

Sweeping back the few locks of hair that had slipped from her hair bow, she traveled her way to the front door. A knock came again as she got closer. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” Stella repositioned her glasses and her face scrunched even further when she saw who was on her doorstep.

Both men were brought to attention when the doorknob turned and the door swung open. “What can I help you with, gentlemen?” Stella questioned. She leaned against the door frame and kept her foot against the back of the door. She left just enough space to talk to them without it being obvious she wanted to keep them out. There was something about them that Stella didn’t trust.

“Oh hi, sweetheart.” Stella cringed inward at the man with platinum blond hair that stood before her. He continued before she had a chance to respond. “We wanted to apologize for yesterday. Our man should have never put his hands on you.” He motioned to her bruised, angry cheek.

Stella shrugged. “Shit happens.” She felt like there was more to it.

“We also want to talk to you about this nice little plot of land you got here.”

Stella stood tall. Well, if her five foot seven could be considered tall. “The answer is no. I’m not selling, redeveloping, or any of that.” She adjusted her foothold on the door. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

The man scoffed at her gall. “Malcolm Beck. We met yesterday.” He inched a bit closer. “You’re just like that employer of yours. You know that?”

Her reply was flat. “I fail to see the similarity.” That was a lie. She saw it loud and clear in the immediate defense of her property. “I also fail to see the purpose a real estate developer and the head of the liquor license board has with a horse trainer. Let alone visiting said horse trainer at her personal property.”

“Well, you just so happen to work for a ranch that has become a thorn in many peoples’ sides.”

“Oh is that right?” Her question bordered on sarcastic.

Malcolm made a snarky face. “That would be correct, little lady. And it’s very apparent why you fit right in with your little friend’s father.”

Stella clicked her tongue in annoyance. “I don’t know where you got your information, Mr. Beck, but it’s incorrect.”

“Is it?” He scooted even closer. Stella noticed his foot at the bottom of her door. She braced herself against it. He carried on. “You mean to tell me that you’re not Stella Lee Daniels, born November 2, 1992? Just about two and a half years after your current, and only, best friend? Kayce John Dutton? Born April 24, 1990?” Stella swallowed thickly. “Sister to Ryan Stephen Daniels? Born October 11, 1988? Wrangler for the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch since he was 18 years old, and is now also lead livestock agent for one John Dutton?”

Stella pursed her lips at being read so clearly. “So what if I am? I have nothing to do with you. I’m just a glorified ranch hand, my guy.”

“You also followed in your brother’s footsteps, becoming employed by the ranch tycoon at age 18. You bought your 2018 Subaru Forester when you were 22, and this plot when you turned 24.”

“Okay and? I saved up a lot.”

“And you almost surely became a soft spot for everyone on that ranch after this many years.”

Stella shrugged. “Ehh, I would beg to differ on that.”

“You would be so wrong.” Malcolm stepped back and adjusted his hat. “I’ll be seeing you, real soon. Take care now.” He tipped the brim of his hat at her.

Stella remained tense as she watched them walk back to their car. She wanted to be completely sure they left her property. They hopped in and started to drive out to the road. Her eyes followed them for as far as she could see them and she continued looking in that direction for a few minutes after they were out of her sight.

She dropped back against the door frame and let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. She whispered to herself. “Fuck.”

Stella took off in a sprint to find her cell phone. A call to Rip needed to be made. She needed to get back to the ranch.

Rip got out of the driver’s seat of Stella’s car when they got back to the ranch. He turned to look at her as she rounded the front of the car. “You get yourself home now. It’s your day off.”

“I will. I unfortunately gotta talk to my brother first.”

Rip sent a disciplinary look her way.

Stella’s hands flew up in submission. “No fighting. I promise. I don’t have the energy for that.”

“Okay.” Rip nodded. She blinked at his easy approval as he started to walk away. “But don’t let me hear about you being difficult. I gotta go help burn the field.” The threat from him was open ended.

She smirked. “Yeah yeah.” She wouldn’t have expected his response to be anything different. “Oh Rip?” He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Thank you.” She said softly. Stella could have sworn she saw a small smile on the gruff cowboy’s face before he nodded again and continued on his way.

Stella stared off into nothingness sitting at the picnic tables. The run in earlier with Malcolm Beck still fresh in her mind. The search for her brother had proved to be easier than she thought. She had found him with Kayce in the barn about 20 minutes prior. She needed to build up the courage to speak with both of them.

She could hear Kayce and Ryan coming out of the barn, talking amongst themselves about the dead cattle situation. She wasn’t thrilled having to talk to either of them, but it was now or never, and she wasn’t ready to hold her peace.

At first, everyone thought it was Dan Jenkins. He was the only person that was actively trying to get a piece of the Yellowstone’s acreage. It made sense that everyone immediately thought of him. Stella on the other hand was beginning to have second thoughts. She heard Ryan’s voice falter. He must have seen her zoned out. Or he was thinking of all the ways he was about to yell at her.

Ryan questioned gently. “Stellee? What’s wrong?” It normally wasn’t a good thing when Stella took to zoning out. With her being hit yesterday, he was worried something might have been off. She had her back to them and was straddling the picnic bench. He put aside his annoyance with her carelessness, and made his way over to face her as he sat down mirroring her position. He bent his head to try and catch her thousand yard stare. Stella raised her head and made eye contact with her brother. The look on her face had him nervous.

Kayce thought he would give the siblings a minute to themselves. He had heard about the argument they had yesterday after he left. They needed to hash things out. He also thought he should avoid Stella at all costs. He ducked his head and kept moving. Stella would find him later if she needed to. At least, that had been his plan.

She broke the nonverbal communication with her brother. Her head snapped in Kayce’s direction. “Kayce, I need you to be over here too.”

His boots slid on the gravel as he stopped short. He pivoted back to the sibling pair. “Oh? What for?”

“It has to do with those cattle and who we think did it.”

He sat on the opposite side of the table. “You have my attention.”

Stella turned to look at Kayce. “So the obvious answer at first was Jenkins. He wants Yellowstone land, and he’s greedy.”

“Yeah that’s a well known fact. Something tells me you don’t feel that way.” Ryan guessed.

She started to explain. “Other than the fact that he’s quite the city boy and he wouldn’t know a steer from a bull, even if we pointed it out to him, I just had the pleasure of Malcolm Beck —,” Kayce interrupted her when he sprung up from the table.

“What do you mean? Are they nosing around here again?”

Stella reached out to grab his hand to stop him. “No, no, no. They’re not here.” Instinctually, Kayce grabbed hers back. They made quick eye contact as they felt a buzz run through their arms. Stella swiftly released him. She ignored the feeling and looked back to her brother.

“I ran into Malcolm and his brother while I was out this morning.” She lied and pushed her glasses up and continued. “I asked what the head of the state liquor license board had to do with talking to a ranch worker, he said somethin’ about my property blah blah blah, but it’s what he said to me after that made me perk my ears up real quick.”

“Did he threaten you?” Ryan’s voice was dangerously grave. He and Kayce were ready to rock right then.

“Not exactly?” Stella didn’t want to have them go on a reckless warpath just because Malcolm had metaphorically whipped it out to compare size.

“What did he say, Stella?” Kayce questioned.

“He said, and I quote, “Well, you work for a farm that has begun to be a thorn in peoples’ sides.” So I asked him, “Is that right?” He confirmed and then he proceeded to tell me all about myself. My date of birth, the kind of car I drive, my brother’s full name, his profession, who my best friend is, every little detail. I was half surprised that he didn’t know the color of underwear I have on today.”

“Fuck that!” Ryan exclaimed while he jumped up from the table.

Stella wasn’t far behind him and Kayce was right behind her. “Ryan no!” She gripped his arm. He spun and looked at her. “I didn’t really react but I’m sure they could tell they had hit a nerve. I’m more than certain that they’re just trying to push buttons. Why did they choose me? I don’t know.”

“Well they made a stupid decision by doing so.” Kayce claimed.

She rolled her eyes as she faced both her best friend and brother. “Anyway… may I offer a suggestion?” The men nodded at her. “I would still go talk to Jenkins, but I’m starting to have a feeling it may have been someone else. I’ll talk to your dad and Rip about my run in if you guys promise to not go buck wild.” The doe eyes came out. “Please?”

Kayce pressed his lips together and observed Stella. She was nervous, but not scared. “Well we’ve already visited Jenkins. So we were one step ahead of you. I actually have to go talk to my dad.” He cast his gaze over top of her head and found that Ryan was already looking at him. His eyes almost pleaded with him to make sure she actually followed through. Ryan knew that if anyone could make her do it, it was Kayce.

Kayce decided. “We’ll take you up to the big house. We’ll tell Rip to meet us up there.”

“Deal.” Stella agreed.

Kayce pulled the truck up in front of his dad’s house. Stella was in the front seat, ready to hop out when he put the truck in park. Stella looked at the big house looming over their side. She chewed on her bottom lip thinking about all the possible ways this conversation could go.

Kayce watched as she contemplated the situation. “It’s just us and my dad, Stell. Everything’ll be fine.”

She sighed. “I know. I just…,” she left it open ended because she honestly didn’t know what to say. Let alone to Kayce at the moment.

Stella reached for the handle quickly and popped open the door. “Well, it’s now or never, right?” She stated with a long sigh. The sound of hooves gave the welcome distraction she was looking for. Rip and her brother made it to the house.

When she turned around, she gave a small smile to Ryan and Rip, and glanced at Kayce but averted her eyes quickly.

Ryan watched the interaction between them. Stella positioned herself toward the door to the house, almost like she wanted to be as far as physically possible away from Kayce. Ryan squinted his eyes in silent question, but thought it might be better to wait.

Stella looked at the house. “Shall we?”

The men fell into stride next to her as they made their way onto the steps.

“I thought I told you to get yourself home, Stella-belle.” Rip said to her.

“Well, the reason I had to talk to my brother should also be brought up to you and Mr. Dutton too. Then I’ll make my way home, since you want rid of me so bad.” She giggled.

“C’mon now. Don’t put words in my mouth.” They all climbed the last couple steps in silence.

Rip opened the front door for her and ushered her inside. The foursome walked through the living room to the back hallway that led to John’s office. He was catching himself up on some paperwork before he finished up for the day. John heard the boot steps coming in his direction and lifted his head. There was a look of confusion on his face at the sight of his head wrangler, foreman, lead livestock agent, and his horse trainer coming at him. John thought it sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.

“Why are all of you here?” He questioned.

Stella walked further into his office. She thought about how to tell him. It was a lot more intimidating than she thought it would be. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but Malcolm Beck visited my house this afternoon.”

#yellowstone #kayce dutton #yellowstonetv #luke grimes #ian bohen #ryan #kayce dutton fan fiction #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone fanfiction #kayce dutton fanfic

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dokidokitsuna · 5 months

Text

Inventor/Invention

-In case you didn’t notice, I’ve been trying to make most of the characters in this AU look like they’re age 50+...which is something I’ve never done before, and it might explain why the designs have been so hit or miss. ^^;;; Fortunately, Susie seems to be a hit; I like how this drawing came out. ^^ I think this body type + clothing aesthetic + age demographic is a particularly rare combination; personally I’ve never seen a character who looks like this before. And yet, I managed to make it work~.

-Susie (the current ‘President Haltmann’, btw) is basically Magolor’s right hand, and helps him with all the technological aspects of his conquest-- not only did she create Auto-Nightmare, she also had a large hand in cloning Blade, and studies the progression of her disease throughout the story. In return for playing the tech support role, she’s allowed to have the Haltmann Works Co. drain resources from all the worlds that Magolor conquers-- which he would agree to, of course, since it would be an easy way to keep his new subjects in line (read: oppressed and afraid) while he’s off looking for more heroes to murder.

It makes me wonder, though, what would happen if the “player” chooses to have Magolor become nicer over the course of the story…like, if he really does turn himself around, he and Susie would have to come into conflict over this deal eventually. ^^; Maybe I just won’t let him get to that point; maybe the best he can do for the purposes of the story is learn to love Blade and take care of her…while completely ignoring all the evil he’s done to the rest of the universe, and simply not giving a damn about letting the HWC consume everyone and everything he left behind. XD

-P.S. Susie basically has two main designs: she’d appear in this physical form for certain cutscenes, but fight exclusively with her mecha (which I totally will draw at some point…I promise…⚆u⚆; )

-Auto-Nightmare is the result of me wanting to finally use Nightmare in an AU for once, but wanting to do it in an unorthodox way. ^^ Besides, I can’t really see a more canon-esque Nightmare willingly being subservient to someone like Magolor…and in terms of traitors/fickle allies, Mags already has his hands full with Marx. I don’t need another character in the party who plays the same role…

So Auto-Nightmare was born, combining the Power Orb with some of Nightmare’s accessories to create this cuter, more unassuming design. Which eventually informed his character concept.

-”Auto” is not really Nightmare; not even an amnesiac-reset version of Nightmare. Technically he’s just a machine that was designed to force Nightmare’s Power Orb to awaken…but ultimately failed, and now simply draws from its power to create his own identity and abilities. The result is this walking bundle of anxiety who feels inferior to his “former self”, and tries to make up for it by doing everything his bosses tell him to do. ^^; However, over the course of the story, he befriends Blade, and starts to become more assertive. He may not be able to stand up for himself, but he quickly learns to stand up for his ailing friend, even to the point of openly criticizing Magolor for his treatment of her.

-As you might have guessed, this is where his “death” comes in. ^^ Soon after I decided he should be Blade’s only real friend, I kinda knew he had to die, because he would end up getting in Magolor’s way. Isolation is a large part of what makes an abusive relationship work; a victim with a staunch supporter who genuinely wants what’s best for them will escape your control eventually... …Besides, Magolor is terribly petty, and would probably be offended by this ‘magic tin can’ talking back to him…enough to snap and shatter his face while Blade is unconscious, if the "player" so chooses. =T

Because Auto isn’t really alive, he doesn’t exactly die…the Power Orb itself can even reform on its own. But breaking it in the first place causes his whole system to reset: he reverts to a silent, emotionless shell who just stands around and follows simple commands...and this is a devastating, soul-crushing event for Blade. Especially if you go one step further and choose to have Magolor lie about what happened to Auto, and/or imply that she killed him accidentally during one of her Malady flare-ups.

-On that note, if you don’t choose to have Magolor go down ^that sickeningly cruel path and just leave Auto alone, Blade actually does kill Auto accidentally, leading to a similar outcome. But at least then, it becomes an opportunity for Magolor to help Blade through this traumatic experience, and start to form a genuine bond with her. Again, if the "player" so chooses~.

#kirby #gijinka #au #BLADE_Princess #susie haltmann #nightmare

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trickstarbrave · 7 months

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astarion fic written.... this is the first draft i gotta go back in and reread it in a couple days (so my brain can reset and see the typos/mistakes). pardon any mistakes and typos and junk when it gets posted to ao3 hopefully most of those will be gone

of note: this is he/him pronoun tav and astarion. spawn astarion, not ascended, and set just after the four way with the drow twins. nothing explicate but yknow. references to sex.

i just have certain feelings about thinking you're ready for something when you're not.

The twins had both left, allowing Tav and Astarion a few moments to collect themselves. The rest of the party had returned to camp, but the two of them were allowed the comfort of a proper bed for the night after Astarion’s skillful technique.

Tav, however, had a sinking feeling in his chest since he caught a glimpse of Astarion’s eyes. Astarion’s movements were precise, even the at times seemingly wild movements were calculated. His body was also just as beautiful as Tav remembered it from that night in the grove--his skin was a pearlescent bone-white, the fabric laying over it a shimmering, sinful red before it was removed, and his body lean and gorgeous, as though carved by the gods. He was the image of temptation, every moan and gasp perfectly arousing, getting Tav’s blood pumping.

But… Astarion’s kisses weren’t the same. They were like that same night, in the grove. Before, Tav didn’t know any better--he thought that was just how Astarion kissed. But now he knew differently. They first kissed differently deep in the shadow lands, after that blood artificer tried to get Astarion to bite her, which Tav refused seeing Astarion’s disgust. Sure, the potion could have been incredibly useful, especially if he knew he was going to have to fight an avatar of a god deep in the bowels of flesh and sinew that was the Absolute’s nest. But it wasn’t worth it to Tav--Astarion had been through too much to pressure him into using his body once again. Tav felt like he’d be no better than Cazador forcing him to give pleasure to others for his own benefit.

That first, genuine kiss was completely unlike the ones that night in the grove. Instead of perfect to an almost frightening degree he was… Clumsy. Soft. Astarion gasped ever so slightly, his lips trembling and eyes fluttering shut. It was warm, wonderful, and honest. Honest in a way their night of passion in the grove had not been. Awkward like a newborn deer taking its first few steps, as Halsin would say. But gods if Tav didn’t adore it; Astarion, someone so cautious and afraid was willing to trust him. Willing to try. And every soft, gentle kiss afterwards had Tav’s heart racing like he just got out of battle.

Those weren’t here. Astarion’s kisses tonight felt calculated and cold once more. The warmth and earnestness was gone. Sure, his touch felt incredible, after all it was impossible for it not to when he was so practiced, but it wasn’t satisfying. It left Tav feeling cold inside. Like he might have done something horrible.

He finally reached over, after mulling over what to do next, gingerly taking Astarion’s hand. His vampiric lover gently curled his fingers around his hand in return, giving a sly smile.

“Did you want a cuddle?” Astarion offered, his voice mirthful and almost teasing, before Tav rolled over, a serious look in on his face. Instantly though, Tav regretted it as the playful smirk quickly faded and Astarion looked nervous, clearly wondering if he had done something wrong.

“Are you alright?” Tav asked, his voice soft and quiet, reaching out with his other hand to cup Astarion’s cheek.

“I--Why do you ask?” Astarion questioned in return, now going defensive. “Was it not up to your standards?”

“It’s not that,” Tav began, running his thumb over Astarion’s hand. “Astarion, you could never disappoint me.” Astarion still seemed tense, not relaxing. “You just seemed… Far away. Distant.” Tav clarified. “Like you were going through the motions instead of enjoying it.” Astarion’s hand now trembled slightly in his grasp, and Tav started to feel anxious he was going to push Astarion away without realizing it. But he didn’t pull him closer, afraid that might make everything worse. He’d already begun, quitting now and telling Astarion to forget it would just make it worse as well, so he might as well finish the thought and resist the urge to smother him in a hug. “I’m just worried about you, love.”

“I-I…” Astarion’s voice trembled. “I said I wanted this.” Astarion said firmly. “I said I would leave if I disliked it.”

“But did you enjoy it?” Tav asked, his voice gentle and soft, “Or did you just not hate it?”

The shaking got worse, as Astarion’s grip went tight.

“You… Looked like you were enjoying it. The twins looked like they were too--” His voice was trembling, tears threatening to come through.

“Astarion,” Tav’s voice went even softer, a gentle whisper. Astarion may not think of himself as delicate, but Tav knew far better, and knew he needed to treat him as such. “You’re allowed to stop, even if you don’t hate it. I want it to feel good for you, not just tolerable.” Tav pressed a soft, feather light kiss to his forehead. “I just want you. All of you. Not just your body.”

He hadn’t expected actual tears to follow. And from the looks of it, Astarion hadn’t either. He looked almost frustrated by the tears pouring out of his eyes, his voice trembling with every sob.

“I--I don’t know what to do with you…” Astarion sobbed. “You are so infuriating. So frustrating…” Astarion’s hands shook as he moved to pull Tav into a tight embrace, clinging to him as though if he didn’t he would lose the only tether to reality he had. “It would have been so much--so much easier if you just rolled over, you know. So much gods damn easier…”

“You know I can’t ignore you.” Tav whispered back, gently stroking his hair as he kept his embrace firm but not too tight. “How could I turn away and ignore that? I know you too well for that, Astarion.”

“I hate that sometimes…” Astarion hissed. “I hate feeling--feeling vulnerable. I can’t even tell a little white lie without you picking up on it. I can make two prostitutes moan and sing and act like they owe us money, and the whole time you’re lying here worried about me?”

“Because I care about you.” Tav replied. “I care about you, love. More than anything.”

“I said I was ready,” Astarion sobbed, hissing and cursing about the tears still flowing uncontrollably. “I wanted to find my own desires. I wanted to finally see what it was like free from Cazador’s shackles and yet…” Astarion growled. “I continue to act like his slave!” He shouted, eyes screwed tight and teeth bared. “I continue to act like I have no say in it. I continue playing a part in bed, only caring about what you want, what makes anyone else feel good--!”

“Hush,” Tav stroked the tears from his cheeks. “It’s alright to make mistakes. You wanted to see what it was like, and you thought you were ready. There’s no shame in that.”

“Of course there’s shame in that!” Astarion suddenly pulled away, now sitting up and burying his face in his hands. “You wanted a fun night, and here I am ruining it!”

Tav sat up as well, wrapping an arm around his shoulders slowly and cautiously. “Astarion you aren’t ruining it--”

“I’m sitting here sobbing like some--some deflowered maiden!” Astarion continued to cry. “Of course I’m ruining it! Here you are, having to sit here and comfort me, all because I’m too pathetic to shake this off.”

“You are not pathetic.” Tav stressed, pulling him in close again. “Astarion, you went through hell for two gods damn centuries. It isn’t easy to just recover from that.”

“And what if I never recover!” Astarion snapped, finally pulling his face from his hands, snarling like a feral animal. “What if I’m like this forever! Slicking about in the dark, crying after sex time and time again?!” He was trying to look angry, but his eyes looked so sad and scared, terrified. He was putting up walls again, trying to shove Tav away before he could leave on his own violation, just like he always did when he was scared.

“I’m… Gods,” Before Tav could even think of a response, Astarion was burying his face again. “I’m broken.”

“You are not broken--”

“Yes I am!” Astarion hissed. “How can you call this anything but broken?” He was choking on his sobs now, barely able to speak. “He broke me--”

“Then you’re nothing that can’t be put back together again.” Tav pulled him into a firm embrace, putting Astarion’s tear stained face on his shoulder. “Maybe you won’t be the same as you were before, but you’re worth it.” Tav pressed soft kisses to his hair, letting him continue to cry and sob. “I’ll love every little crack and chip in you, Astarion. Even the parts of you that are missing, I’ll give you as much time in the world to fill them in as you like. However you like.” Astarion once again clung to him. “And if you can never have sex again and enjoy it earnestly, then I won’t pressure you. I want you to be comfortable and happy, Astarion. You deserve it, more than anything.”

Silence followed, the only sound being Astarions broken sobs for some time. He was continuing to get all the emotion out it seemed, crying it all out, cathartically sobbing from all the pain he had endured. All Tav could think about was how this wasn’t fair to his lover, but he didn’t dare mourn the person Astarion could have been. This Astarion deserved his love, no matter what horrors he had endured. He deserved love, and kindness, and patience. He deserved someone to hold him as he nursed his wounds, someone who would love him through the whole healing process, no matter how many steps back he took nor how long it took.

Eventually though, the sobbing died down, and Tav took them both down to lay once more against the plush mattress. He took his time gingerly wrapping Astarion in the soft blankets, carding his hand through Astarion’s now messy hair and rubbing gently at his scalp.

“Gods,” Astarion grumbled. “I’m going to look hideous tomorrow.” He groaned with disgust, still sniffling. “My eyes are going to be so swollen and puffy--” Tav snorted, resisting the urge to laugh loudly. “Tav, dear, we need to find an herbalist before we go back to camp.” Astarion was curled up comfortably on his chest now, his voice lighter, if not a bit hoarse from the crying. “I need a compress for my eyes. I refuse to go back to camp looking like a wreck. Gods know what the others would say. I have to look my best, after all.”

For all his peacocking, he knew this was just his way of trying to keep safe. Breaking down in front of Tav was one thing, and while he cared deeply for the others, he didn’t know how to handle too much genuine concern for his well being. After two centuries of torment, genuine kindness was as alien to him as the sun, and so much brighter and overwhelming than he had ever imagined. No doubt the others would fuss over him, wondering what was wrong or what happened. Karlach would offer to beat someone up, Shadowheart would no doubt hover around with that look of anxiety she always had when someone was upset, and La’zael would confidently challenge him to combat to take his mind off things. It would be endless streams of the others trying to comfort him, and that would no doubt make Astarion more uncomfortable with it all.

In time, he would get used to being vulnerable around others. But right now, he was still delicate. His wounds were still too raw. Like an injured cat, he didn’t like being around others when he was hurting.

“Of course we can.” Tav reassured him. “You can just tell the other’s your voice is hoarse because of all the moaning I had you doing.” Astarion snorted at that.

“I think not,” Astarion proudly replied, “What if they want to try out your skills for themselves, hm?” Tav chuckled again, unable to stop it. “I want to keep you all to myself, you know. I refuse to let La’zael drag you back to her tent and break you in half.”

Astarion then surprised him, leaning in to press a soft, gentle kiss to his lips. It was like all the other genuine ones, clumsy, soft, tentatively loving, and oh so warm. It left him feeling breathless all over again, like every time before.

“Gods, you’re beautiful…”

“So are you.” Tav replied, still holding him close. “The most beautiful elf in the world.”

“And don’t you forget it.” Astarion’s smug reply came. “Even when I’m crying I’m still gorgeous, aren’t I? But that will be a show I reserve only for you.”

#astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #act 3 spoilers #male tav #my writing

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yuri-is-online · 1 year

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And Your Name Is? (Malleus and Ace)

Synopsis- After successfully resolving whatever was causing NRC to be trapped in an endless time loop of overblotting and disaster, one last reset should give him a chance to experience a normal school year with you. But instead you find yourself trapped in the here and there, appearing as a vague shadow around the school that vanishes as soon as he catches up to you. The kind thing to do would be to allow you to be forgotten in the chance it lets you return to your world.

But this is Twisted Wonderland where the kind thing is seldom done, and he wants you back as much as you want to find him again.

a/n: The first version of this can be found on my masterlist here (x) . I have been thinking of a million scenarios for each of the boys because I am real attached to this sort of trope and will probably write more in the future.

notes: they/ them pronouns used for Yuu, angst with the intent of comfort. Everyone in this post is a wee bit pathetic but then these two kinda are. The love triangle of all time I tell you /j

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is a king, his rule is absolute and his word commands the reality around him. Literally sometimes, it would appear, as he looks up longingly at the ramshackle window. A shape flickers there, one he has flown to greet many times before. For memories that don’t exactly belong to him they are vivid, the shape and feel of your hand weighs heavy in his as he wills himself to remain on the ground; there is no guarantee the night sky will remain cloud free if he is forced to watch you disappear now. He used to think the thought of a power beyond him laughable, but when he sees you now, this strange colorless void that refuses to fully leave his world, he is almost certain that there must be. There must be some divine force in the world that is punishing him for his hubris in thinking that he could stop the wheel of time; punishing him for refusing to treasure the time he had to spend with you and thinking he could spend your life as he pleased.

It was ironic really, how powerless he felt when you disappeared from view. Like you were the god and he was the child of man groveling at your feet for a chance at salvation. An introspective part of him wonders if this is how his people see him; it is most displeased with how little he cares, all regalia abandoned at the foot of a human that cannot be saved with any magic he can weave.

“Lilia says I should see this as practice for when you are older.” His guardian had decided to be considerate of his feelings when he came to him for advice. If Lilia had been acting only as an advisor, it hurts his heart to think of what he would have said. “I wonder, would you prefer me if I was human? Would this be easier, could I have made you stay?” You do not immediately appear to reassure him, no one does. He supposes no one could, Malleus Draconia is not above wishing for things despite what Sebek might think. A light layer of frost covers the walls of the old mansion, it is becoming harder to focus on the stars. “It is cruel of me to wish to keep you here with me, children of men do not belong trapped in the dark; but what a sight you would be.” He can picture you clearly, time is cruel but this re-set timeline is much crueler. Your face and the sound of your voice are still his to cherish, but he has no pictures or records to refresh his memory when it inevitably begins to fail.

“Tsunotarou?” Yes, the frost begins to retreat as he resigns himself to his grief, that is what your voice sounded like. Someone reaches to touch his face, and to his surprise he allows them. Yes, he takes in a deep breath that goes on for so long it almost hurts him, this is your scent, your appearance filling his vision and blocking the stars from view. “You look so lonely.” And you look so confused, but more importantly you look unafraid as he takes your hands from his face and intertwines your fingers.

“And if I am?” He tries to give you a charming smile, one that he knows will only work on his family and you.

“Then…” you look confused, like you are searching his face and recognizing him but unaware of what you are looking for. “If you are my Tsunotarou, then I wouldn’t want you to be lonely.”

“Then stay.” Stay here and keep him company until you are nothing but the dust you were born from and allow him to stay by the side of your grave forevermore.

Ace Trappola

This was unfair. Infuriatingly, ridiculously, beyond merely mildly unfair. Ace had never been more enraged with the way things work at Night Raven College. “The strong bow to the weak” his ass, how many of these housewardens (and Jamil) bowed to you only to dismiss your current status as not their problem? It was their fault, and as far as Ace was concerned they were well beyond needing to take responsibility for their actions. He had no problem telling you as much, pretending the way you were constantly out of his reach was not his problem. That it didn’t bother him to run after you for hours, chasing you down hallways, through the rose maze, anywhere you went Ace Trappola followed. If you were not made of memories and mist it would be just like it was before. You went and he followed, if it would bring you back to life he’d crawl. Riddle had said his behavior was unbefitting of a card soldier. Ace had told him he was one to talk.

And just like that he was back on a couch in Ramshackle, a collar around his neck he swore up and down didn’t belong. But you were not here to see it.

“Honestly, who does Riddle think he is?” He grumbles as if you could respond, sometimes he swears you do. Deuce thinks he is losing his mind, Riddle probably does too. They might be back in the past, but Riddle remembers his mistakes and what little growth he’d squeezed from the stone cold loop of time. He is strict, but seldom tyrannical, if Ace wasn’t in the middle of a spiral he would be willing to acknowledge his housewarden’s willingness to try and help you. “Hey-” the door doesn’t open for you when you appear, Ace doesn’t think you can interact with objects the way a ghost can but that doesn’t stop him from talking to you like you are one. “Bet this looks familiar. Honestly, how many times am I going to have to show up like this before you let me take the bed? I’m super skinny and you’re not- you’re not there.” Memory isn’t like a video Ace can replay, but from the timelines he’s spent chasing after you he is almost certain this shade of yours is simply following an echo of your routine. It has a set path, if he gets too close you will evaporate from view, but still he reaches when you approach, praying that this time his hand will find purchase. “Just what is it you wanna hear huh?” He finds something, cold and slightly wet like this shimmery shape is made of melting ice. “That I didn’t think you would be my type because I already knew you were? That when I said what was really important was finding someone you could laugh with I thought of your face? That I’m a coward who couldn’t reject a girl he didn’t like and who couldn’t face it when he saw what he actually wanted?”

“I want Ace.” He feels it more than hears it, as much as he wants to smile and hide behind himself Ace Trappola is smart enough to know he can’t. Not this time, he has to watch you fill in your outline, eyes unhurried and unfocused but locked solely on him. If he doesn’t watch you come to he will never believe he is looking at you again. “I want to stay with Ace.” Your arms are around his neck pushing him back onto the couch with a thunk and he wraps himself as much around you as he can. “Just what am I going to do with you?” He tries to laugh but between the collar and you it’s hard to breathe, but he can’t bring himself to move. “I guess I’ll have to make you happy for the rest of your life.”

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola

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thriller-roads · 1 year

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Shoplifting Leads to Romance

Rohan Kishibe x artist!reader

Fluff, hurt/comfort

Summary: Rohan has trouble making sense of how he feels about you, and ends up upsetting you in the process. Don't worry though, he's trying his best. Basically Rohan makes you sad then realizes he was an asshole.

It’s true that Rohan Kishibe is a skilled manga artist. His artistic prowess is something he’s gifted with and has honed to near perfection. Something he’s not so great with though, is people.

As an artist yourself, you've always admired Rohan’s talent. His work was an inspiration to you, so how amazing was it that you were now acquainted with him, and also receiving an internship?

After approaching the eccentric man, he agreed to take you in as an intern. He only did so because you helped him out when he was accused of shoplifting at the Kame-Yu department store that one time. Since you worked there, you saw who the real culprit was, and vouched for Rohan’s innocence on the matter.

Rohan appreciated the fact that you gave him his space and didn’t demand anything of him, even after recognizing who he was. He also appreciated the compliments you gave him on his work. The level of detail you went into intrigued him, such as noting the improvement of his art style over the years, or the technique he uses to study a spider's anatomy.

The two of you soon became more than mere acquaintances, with you coming over often to admire his process. Rohan actually enjoyed the time you spent for a while, until it began to gnaw at his mind. Lately, he found himself getting too distracted by you. He was thinking too much about you, even when you were gone. He found the whole thing to be rather infuriating.

Rohan surveyed you from across the desk, eyes intent on watching you sketch. He should be looking down at your paper, but instead he found himself unable to look away from your face.

You momentarily glanced up at him, and that alone was enough to drive him insane. He quickly tried to cover up the fact he had been staring at you. "Quit looking at me and focus on the paper," he scolded, as if he hadn’t been doing the exact same thing. As long as you were unaware of that though, it didn’t matter.

Returning your eyes to the paper, you continued the sketch without a word. Rohan on the other hand, couldn’t seem to shut up. "Now Y/n, you must be quicker with the sketch. Don't spend too much time on it. You still haven't managed to cut down the sketch time since the last attempt, don’t forget that."

"Sorry Rohan sensei, I'm really trying to-"

"Well you're not trying hard enough!" He suddenly snapped. The pencil in your hand slowly came to a stop. Looking down at the figure on the paper, you realized you were pressing down so hard with the tip of your pencil that it had made a small perforation on the eye of the drawing.

You lifted the pencil to brush off bits of eraser. "Hey, my wrist is starting to hurt a bit. Maybe we should take a break, and I could just watch you for now?" You suggested, and awaited his response.

You, watch him? With you watching him, he'd fumble over his pen. He would make a mistake somewhere from being too distracted by your presence, he knew it. He could feel the heat on his cheeks begin to radiate just at the thought of it. Knowing your eyes would be on him, his mind would wander off to nothing but the thought of what your lips might feel like against his. No, this simply could not continue. He couldn’t allow himself to further slip into this predicament.

“No, that isn’t what you’re here to do right now. Now take your pencil and paper back up, and start again,” Rohan ordered, resetting the timer on his desk.

You rubbed at your wrist, trying your best to brush off any soreness in your arm. The grooves of the pencil were practically engraved into your palm by now as you started up again when Rohan exclaimed, “Begin!”

You went as fast as you could to get the basic shapes down, and then the details. It was coming along well enough, and you thought maybe this time you’d actually get to-

The sound of a timer went off, and Rohan slammed his hand down onto the table. “Time’s up! Did you finish?”

You scrambled to keep the papers from falling. “No, I-”

“Then I don’t wanna see it!” With that, Rohan reached over to take the sheet of paper from your grasp, ripping it to shreds. That wasn't something you expected, so you weren’t sure how to react as the pieces of paper sailed down to the surface of the desk. You knew he could be intense, but was this really necessary?

Rohan crossed his arms. “Y/n, you are here to improve your art skills. You're nothing but an amateur, and at this rate you'll never be on my level if you keep slacking off. If you’re just going to waste my time, I suggest you take your things and leave.”

Hearing this out of nowhere confused you even more. If ripping your paper wasn’t enough, his words made your guts drop to the floor. Were you really doing that badly? Perhaps Rohan just wanted to be left alone. You thought he had been enjoying the time you spent together, but you were beginning to doubt that now. Then again, he never asked for you to come by. It was you that insisted, thinking he'd be fine with it. Turns out that wasn't that case.

You stood from your seat, grabbing your bag as well. Your throat suddenly felt dry, but you still managed to say something. "Okay then. Goodbye for now, Rohan Kishibe." You didn't even mean for the words to come out so cold and bitter, but they did. Rohan noticed this too, and he didn't know how to feel about it as he watched you walk out the door.

Well, it had to be for the better that you left, right? No use in staying if you weren’t cut out for it.

Looking down at the scraps of torn paper, Rohan thought perhaps he went a bit overboard. Gathering each piece, he assorted them together like a puzzle. Once each piece was in the right place, he didn’t expect to see his own face looking back at him. Well, it wasn’t completely realistic nor intact, but it was very much meant to be him. Was this why you kept looking at him, for artistic reference?

Rohan rested a hand against his chin as his eyes traveled across the image. “Hmm, this is actually quite good…” Observing the drawing, the guilt hit him like a big freight train. If that Tamami fellow was around, he’s sure that lock stand of his would be very effective on him right about now.

Well, it doesn't matter now. The important thing is that Rohan could finally resume his work, unbothered at last. Placing his pen down on the paper, he began his usual process. As the drawing progressed however, he noticed the image on the paper was starting to look a lot like you. He brushed the thought aside. No, it just happened to look like you. He continued to rapidly scribble across the paper, and when he was finally finished, the results horrified him.

Who was he kidding, it was you. Down to nearly every last detail, it was you. Any mole on your skin, any curve of your face, any direction of the way your hair swept, it was all you. Well, there was absolutely no denying it now. Rohan had fallen madly in love with you. “Great, just what I need…” he grumbled out.

Groaning in frustration, he set his pen down and turned back to your torn up drawing. He needed a break. He gathered the pieces of paper into a neat pile before leaving the room.

After that day, he didn’t see you for a while. He called you a few times, but you didn't answer. It had only been a couple of days, but still. He never even managed to catch sight of you around Morioh by chance. Despite that, he’s sure he’d get to see you today; for today you have a shift at Kame-Yu department store.

Walking into the vast space, he navigated the aisles until he caught sight of you. There you were, stocking items onto the shelves. Rohan clutched his bag and took a deep breath before approaching you. “Hello, Y/n. It’s uh, been a while.” He internally cursed himself for being so nervous in front of you.

The sound of his voice startled you a bit. You weren’t expecting Rohan to be here. Regardless of his presence, you resumed to pile items onto the shelves. “Hello Rohan. Yes, it has been a while,” was all you said. There was no warm smile like you usually gave him whenever you greeted him, nor a nod of recognition. Heck, you barely even looked at him, much to Rohan’s despair.

The main reason you were so upset over it was because Rohan’s opinion meant so much to you. You wanted his validation, his approval. Getting the exact opposite wasn’t exactly the motivation you were looking for. If anything, it made you want to take a break from art altogether. You knew it was stupid to care so much about what he thinks, but that’s romance for you. Utterly stupid.

Seeing as you made no further attempt to interact with him, Rohan struggled with what he should say next. “So…how’s that painting coming along?”

You knew the painting he spoke of. You had shown it to him about a week ago, before the last time you spoke. That same painting remained untouched on its easel, with not a single stroke of paint added onto it since then. “I haven’t really worked on it,” you responded, your attention still not fully on him.

“Why not?” Rohan knew why, but still asked nonetheless.

“I guess I kinda lost my motivation.” At last, you turned to properly face him. This actually made it all the worse for Rohan, because your dull expression pained him. “I am just an amateur who’ll never be on your level after all.”

The words he spoke to you days before flooded over him like a tsunami. He was a prisoner to his guilt, and he needed you to set him free. In order to gain this freedom though, he’d have to do something he rarely ever did.

“Y/n, I think some apologies are in order. My actions and what I said the other day...It was too harsh. I honestly do think you’re a talented artist. I just said all that because I wanted you to leave. You weren’t the one getting distracted, I was. All because you couldn’t leave my mind…and I just wanted that irritating feeling to go away!” he spoke the last bit in a frustrating tone.

Your unmoving face told him you were confused, so he elaborated. “But now I see that what I was feeling was attraction, and I should just accept it rather than push it away even if it bugs me.”

Although his explanation helped a bit, you were still unsure of what he was getting at. “What?” You questioned stupidly.

“Damnit Y/n, I like you!” He finally admitted, and it was then he took note of just how fast his heart was racing. If this was love, he detested the feeling. Why did it have to be so damn nerve-wracking? Rohan tried his best to disregard all of this. The only thing that mattered now was your response.

“Oh. Really? Well…I like you too,” your voice snapped him out of his worry.

Rohan was in a state of disbelief at first. “You do? Well, of course you do!” Rohan played off his relief with a shaky laugh and smirk. His smirk soon faded though, remembering he still had something to be sorry for. “And again, I apologize for my behavior. Your drawing, I truly am flattered by it. You have commendable talent. It’s very good.”

“Was very good,” you corrected, crossing your arms to emphasize you were still upset, regardless of the feelings you admitted for each other. At this, Rohan shuffled around in his bag, pulling something out and holding it up for you to see. You were a bit surprised to see it was the drawing you thought was ruined. It looked as good as new, no tape or glue anywhere in sight.

“But how…Is that really the one I made?” you asked, reaching out to take it from him.

“Yes, it is. I asked that punk Josuke to fix it with his stand.” Rohan very much disliked dealing with that boy, but he did it for you. He had to. “I hope you do forgive me, Y/n.”

You gave him a small smile in return. “I’m glad you apologized. I thought maybe I was just being too sensitive about the issue...” You mentally scolded yourself for not handling Rohan’s criticism well that day. The man was just doing his job after all, and you should’ve known what you’d be getting into when seeking his guidance.

Rohan looked away in shame upon recalling his behavior that day. He then walked over closer to you, clearing his throat. “No, you had every right to be upset. Even if it was criticism, there are better ways I could’ve handled it. So don’t go thinking you had any fault in the matter, understood?" He narrowed his eyes down at you.

"Yeah," you smiled, now relieved. His emerald eyes made you weak for a moment, but you felt more at ease now that everything was out and dealt with in the open.

In a similar way, Rohan felt his eyes soften when you looked at him the way you did. He wanted to experience more of that.

"If you’d like to come by my studio after your shift today, I’d gladly welcome you," he offered.

“Well then I gladly accept your invitation.” With that, you grabbed ahold of his collar to pull him down for a kiss. Rohan barely had any time to process it. All he knew was that he felt you put an arm around his waist, and that he finally got to know what your lips felt like against his. It was you who opened the door to this heavenly feeling, and it was wonderful.

Pulling away, you couldn’t stop grinning at the dumbstruck expression on the manga artist’s face. You felt like getting a pencil and paper out right then and there to capture the moment forever. Scratch that, pencil wouldn’t be enough, you’d need rouge watercolor to capture the color on his cheeks. Even when Rohan tried to compose himself and clear his throat, the heat on his face didn’t go away.

Rolling up the sheet of paper in your hand, you lightly hit Rohan on the head with it. “You can keep this at your place for now. I can’t exactly take it with me right now during work hours. But careful, don’t rip it again, or I’ll be sure to rip out your vital organs in return,” you joked. The fact that you threatened him with the sweetest smile made it all the more intimidating.

“Trust me, that won’t be a problem," Rohan said with a nervous laugh. "Well, I suppose I’ll be seeing you later. Until then, Y/n.” He quickly walked away, and you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle before resuming your work.

As he exited the store, Rohan felt like screaming out to the heavens. Once he was far enough away from people, he let out an almost maniacal laugh as he slumped against a wall. Wow, that really happened! He thought he'd only ever get to kiss you in his fantasies, or if he commanded you to do so with Heaven’s Door. But it did happen, and he was looking forward to doing it again and again.

After his little fit of giddy laughter, Rohan noticed a small box falling out of his bag. Picking it up, he realized it was a box of tea assortments, one of his favorites in fact. Where did that come from? The price tag on it told him it was from the department store. He didn’t even pay for it though, so how did-

Oh. Rohan recalled that you were stocking tea boxes onto the shelves. You must’ve sneaked a box into his bag when you were kissing him. The irony of it all made him smile. The great Rohan Kishibe would be wrongfully accused of shoplifting, yet again. One thing he did steal from that place though, was your heart.

Realizing how cheesy that line was, Rohan nearly threw up on his way home.

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