Barges Through The Wall Like The Kool-aid Man
barges through the wall like the kool-aid man
Buy Sevika flowers.
Please. Please she probably never received a beautiful bouquet before and I desperately yearn for soft hours with Sevika
SHE SO DESERVES FLOWERS I AGREE I AGREE
i will take good care of you
content warning(s): none
"and all the quiet nights you bear seal them up with care no one needs to know they're there for i will hold them for you."
~~~
** set post canon, Councilor!Sevika x reader. because oh my god i cannot accept that she’s all alone in there **
~~~
You stand in the doorway. Sevika hasn’t seen you yet.
She is at her desk, the way she is every night. The desk of rich Noxian wood, inlaid with swirling patterns of gold. The desk came with the apartment, which came with the seat at the Council, which came with a new kind of fight that you had to watch Sevika go through day after day.
The battles were won, the losses counted, the blood spilled and cities destroyed and rebuilt. Ambessa was dead. Hextech destroyed. The sister cities were forced to reconcile in the face of the realization that they had come very, very close to the end of the world.
Piltover is quiet at night. Nothing like the undercity, where you would hear fights breaking out on the streets every hour of the day, drunks wailing from filthy doorsteps, dogs howling in the alleyways. No; Piltover was like a slumbering golden beast.
And your Sevika, the new leader of the underdogs, the voice of the city the two of you had grown up in—the city that never slept. If Piltover was the idle lion, Zaun was the hungry wolf. You see the hunger still in your wife’s eyes. You see how she charges into every debate, every argument at the Council Table the same way she charged into battle years ago. Every reform, every proposal she makes, is met with a near unanimous opposition. A mandate that would have taken half a day to pass from a Piltover Counselor took weeks when it came from the Zaunite Counselor.
Sevika has hung up the arm Jinx had made for her on the wall behind her desk, and it gleams in the lamplight like a trophy. Still she hasn’t noticed you—she is poring over the files on her desk, the endless paperwork awaiting her every night seeming to have no end.
You want to take her in your hands tenderly, you want to crush the burdens she carries into an insignificant ball. You want to tell her to rest. But you've learned Sevika didn't like words that have no meaning: she cannot rest, and you and Sevika both know this.
So you show it through actions.
You walk up to her, standing behind her. She glances up briefly.
“How was the academy today?”
“Fine,” you say. “The pupils learn fast.”
“Hm.” She is preoccupied with the paperwork. You rest your hands on her shoulders and find them tight with tension. Your fingers knead her muscles, their strength making her groan involuntarily.
“You work too hard.”
She laughs dryly. Her prosthetic arm is off—the new one she bought from the Piltover mechanic, a simple and elegant arm of light gold, no weaponry assets. She’s still wearing the formal cape, and from where you’re standing she looks smaller and wearier than you remember.
“Come to bed,” you say, massaging the tension out of her neck. You feel her relax at your touch, the muscles softening beneath her warm skin.
“In a minute.”
“Not in a minute. Now.”
“You go ahead, baby.” She sighs. “I have to get this done.”
You never feel so helpless as in moments like these, when she seemed to be trapped between one duty and another, when it felt like the world expected your wife to be everywhere at once, doing everything at the same time.
You don’t know how to ease her load. There just seemed to be no end to it. You try to think of the last time you saw her smile, really smile, and find you can’t remember.
You look around her office. The walls are plain, devoid of paintings. Besides Jinx’s mechanical arm on the wall, there isn’t much to relieve the somber atmosphere.
“Sevika,” you say suddenly, “what are your favorite flowers?”
“Flowers?” she repeats in an absent tone, looking over a text on trade policy. “I don’t know. I don’t think much about flowers.”
A pause, and she looks up at you, as if surprised to see your question was serious.
“I remember picking moonflowers when I was small,” she says.
“Moonflowers?”
“Yeah, the pale blue ones that grew near the mines. The only things that could survive in that air. More weeds than anything.” She shrugs. “I remember picking one a day to give to my mom when she came back from work. She never threw them away, even after they wilted. Then one day she didn’t come home at all.”
You squeeze her shoulder. Her mother had died in a cave-in at the mines when she was young. You had lost your own parents to the same kind of accident.
Sevika looks at you, amusement in her eyes. “I don’t remember the last time we ever talked about something like flowers.”
~~~
The next day you ask your academy supervisor permission to take off work early. Since you have no afternoon classes anyway, the permission is granted. You walk briskly down to the marketplace and go into the florist’s shop.
When you ask the leopard vastaya man at the counter for a bouquet of moonflowers, he shakes his head. “Those are just weeds from the undercity. I don’t sell them in bouquets. You can buy a full bouquet including them as decoration.”
“I want only the moonflowers. You can take them out of every bouquet and gather them together, I’ll pay however much it costs.”
He looks at you as if you’re crazy, but he sets to work. You leave the shop fifteen minutes later with a bunch of moonflowers in gleaming wax paper tied with a ribbon. They are beautiful with notes of gray, and in flashes they hold the same color as Sevika’s eyes. They look like hope. They look like Zaun.
When Sevika comes home that night you present them to her with a tentative smile. All day you’ve angled them this way and that in her office, changing the vase twice to try to find the right look. You’re not sure if she would even like the gift, or if she would find it painful.
Sevika stares at you. “What’s this?”
“Moonflowers,” you say dumbly. Both of you can clearly see that. You can’t read her expression, and you start to feel nervous. “I just wanted…I wanted to make you feel lighter.”
Lighter. Happier. You want to give her the world. You want to give her the moon, the stars, the warmth of your very soul. You want to show her she is not alone in this fight.
Sevika takes the flowers and buries her nose in them, eyes closed. Then she looks up at you. “They’re beautiful,” she says, her voice husky.
Sevika sees her childhood in their petals. She sees the hope in the heart of the little girl inside her. She sees the wrinkles of her mother’s tired smile. She sees the bright eyes of young Zaunite children.
“Sevika,” you say, worried, “Sevika, are you crying?”
She wipes roughly at her eyes, giving you a smile as genuine as sunlight. “No, darling. Thank you.”
~~~
note: ah...this was meant to be fluff but it turned out angstier than i intended... i can still call it fluff if it involves flowers right...?
thank you @demothers-empty-blog for the req :)
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yesssssss the yearning the pining the dramaaa
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Karlach:
Karlach was trying her best to keep it together. As she sat by the campfire, her eyes kept drifting toward you, her massive frame leaning slightly forward as if she could somehow close the gap between you just by willing it. You were tending to a few weapons you’d scavenged earlier in the day, completely oblivious to the way her molten eyes lingered on you, the way her hands fidgeted with a piece of stray leather to distract herself from the ache in her chest.
Wyll, sitting nearby with a mischievous grin, had noticed. Of course, he had noticed. The Blade of Frontiers had a knack for picking up on unspoken emotions, and Karlach was as subtle as a roaring forge.
“You know,” Wyll began, his voice low and teasing as he leaned toward Karlach, “if you keep staring at them like that, you’re liable to set the poor one on fire.”
Karlach froze, her cheeks flushing as embers flickered to life along her horns.
“What?” she whispered sharply, her voice cracking. “I wasn’t staring! I was just—”
“Yearning?” Wyll supplied with a grin, leaning back casually.
“I don’t yearn,” Karlach snapped, though her voice lacked conviction.
“Oh, come now,” Wyll said, his tone smug. “The sighing, the pining, the tragic glances when he’s not looking—it’s downright poetic.” He tapped his chin theatrically. “It’s almost enough to compose a ballad.”
Karlach shot him a glare, her flames flaring slightly around her shoulders. “Wyll, I swear, if you don’t shut it—”
But it was too late. Her embarrassment sent her infernal engine into overdrive, and the flames on her body surged. The sudden flare caught your attention, and you glanced up from your work.
“Karlach?” you called out, your voice filled with concern as you stood and crossed the campfire toward her. “Are you okay?”
The sheer earnestness in your tone made her heart lurch painfully in her chest. She quickly tried to wave you off, her hands fanning at her shoulders as if she could dampen the flames.
“It’s nothing! Just—hot, you know?” she stammered.
“Well, yeah, you’re always hot,” you said, grabbing a nearby waterskin. “But this seems worse than usual.”
Karlach froze, her eyes going wide at your words. Did you—did you just call her hot? Surely, you didn’t mean it like that, right?
“Here, let me help,” you said, uncapping the waterskin.
“No, no, really, I’m fine—”
Too late. You doused her with a splash of water, and instead of calming her flames, it only made things worse. The steam hissed around her, mingling with her rising panic, and her flames flared even brighter.
“Gods, I’m sorry!” you exclaimed, looking horrified. “Did that make it worse?”
Karlach buried her face in her hands, groaning loudly. “No, no, it’s fine, just—don’t worry about it.”
Wyll, watching the scene unfold, laughed openly now. “You’re really outdoing yourself, Karlach. I think the entire camp will see those flames soon.”
You shot Wyll a confused look. “What’s he talking about?”
Karlach peeked through her fingers, her flames dimming slightly as her mortification reached its peak.
“Nothing! He’s just… being a prat,” she said quickly, glaring at Wyll, who only grinned wider.
“I’d call it encouragement,” Wyll said lightly. “After all, someone here needs to take a hint.”
You blinked at him, clearly puzzled, but before you could ask what he meant, Karlach stood abruptly, the ground under her feet crunching as her weight shifted.
“I’m gonna, uh, go check on—anything else,” she muttered, stomping off toward the edge of camp.
You watched her go, bewildered, before turning back to Wyll. “Did I do something wrong?”
Wyll chuckled, shaking his head. “Not wrong, no. Just oblivious. Don’t worry—you’ll figure it out eventually. Maybe.”
You frowned, glancing back toward where Karlach had disappeared into the shadows, her flames still faintly flickering in the distance. You didn’t know what you’d missed, but something about the way she’d looked at you before she left lingered in your mind, warm and unexplained.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Minthara:
The campfire crackled gently, casting a warm glow across the assembled group. You sat on a log, sharpening your blade, blissfully unaware of the undercurrents running through the evening.
Minthara, sitting a few paces away, had her sharp red eyes trained on you, a faint furrow in her brow. Her usual composed demeanor was slightly off tonight—her movements a touch too deliberate, her glances toward you lingering just a second too long.
Shadowheart, one of the resident camp gossips, noticed. She always did.
“Why don’t you just say something, Minthara?” Shadowheart drawled lazily, her lips curling into a smirk as she toyed with a loose strand of her hair. “It’s not as though subtlety is your strong suit. Or theirs, for that matter.”
Minthara’s sharp gaze snapped toward her, irritation flashing across her face.
“I do not need your advice, cleric,” she said coolly.
“Oh, I think you do,” Shadowheart said, undeterred. “Because whatever it is you’ve been doing clearly isn’t working. They haven’t even noticed.” She tilted her head toward you, who were now carefully oiling your weapon, oblivious to the tension building around you.
Minthara’s grip on her dagger tightened, her knuckles turning white. “They have other matters to attend to. The fault lies not with my approach but their… distraction.”
Shadowheart chuckled. “Distraction? They’re so dense they probably think the moonrise is flirting with them. You’ll have to carve it into the side of their tent before they catch on.”
That was the last straw. Minthara stood abruptly, her dark cloak billowing behind her as she marched across the campsite toward you.
“Minthara?” you said, startled as her shadow fell over you.
Before you could say another word, she grabbed you by the front of your tunic and pulled you to your feet with a surprising amount of force. Her crimson eyes burned with frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place.
“You,” she snapped, her voice ringing out across the camp, “are impossibly blind.”
“W-what?” you stammered, your mind racing to figure out what you’d done wrong this time.
“I have fought by your side,” she began, her voice rising. “I have trusted you, protected you, respected you. I have given you every sign imaginable, and yet you remain oblivious to the fact that I—” She stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath, as if even saying the words aloud were a battle she needed to win. “That I desire you, you fool!”
The camp went silent. Even the fire seemed to crackle a little softer as everyone turned to stare.
You blinked, utterly dumbfounded. “You… you desire me?”
Minthara groaned, her head tipping back in exasperation before she fixed you with an incredulous look. “Yes! Must I spell it out further? Or perhaps I should inscribe it on your blade since that seems to be where your attention is always focused!”
Shadowheart, who had been watching the entire exchange with barely suppressed laughter, finally burst out into an uncontrollable giggle.
“Oh, gods, this is better than I could’ve hoped,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.
Minthara turned her glare on her, her lips curling in irritation. “If you say one more word, Shadowheart, I will—”
“Okay, okay,” you interrupted, holding up your hands. “Everyone calm down.” You turned back to Minthara, your voice softening. “I’m sorry if I missed the signs, Minthara. I honestly didn’t realize.”
Her anger seemed to waver, replaced by a flicker of vulnerability.
“How could you not?” she asked, almost to herself. You hesitated, then placed a tentative hand on hers, still gripping your tunic.
“Because I’m an idiot,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But I’m an idiot who’s honored and… maybe a little thrilled by what you just said.”
For the first time that evening, Minthara seemed at a loss for words. Her lips parted slightly, her sharp demeanor softening as she searched your face.
“Thrilled, you say?” she murmured, the barest hint of a smirk returning.
“Thrilled,” you confirmed, your cheeks warming under her intense gaze.
The tension in the air shifted, no longer charged with frustration but with something warmer, something promising. Minthara released your tunic, smoothing it out almost absently. “Then perhaps next time, you won’t require such… dramatic measures to understand me.”
Shadowheart made a kissy noise behind you, and you shot her a glare over your shoulder. Minthara, however, ignored her entirely, her focus solely on you.
“Now,” she said, her voice back to its usual measured tone. “Shall we continue this conversation somewhere with fewer interruptions?”
You nodded, feeling a grin spread across your face. “Lead the way.”
As you walked off together, Shadowheart’s laughter echoed behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. For once, the fog of obliviousness had lifted, and you were exactly where you wanted to be—at Minthara’s side.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Lae'zel:
Lae’zel had always been a force of nature—her sharp tongue, battle-hardened demeanor, and unyielding confidence left no room for doubt. And that’s exactly how she preferred it. To anyone observing her, she was the epitome of githyanki discipline and control. But deep down, behind the steel exterior and fiery eyes, she was at war with herself.
She had a massive, undeniable crush on you.
It was maddening. Every time you smiled at her or even so much as glanced her way, her heart would race—a sensation she would have sworn was impossible for her kind. She had tried everything to make her interest known: sparring sessions where she pushed you to your limits (and a bit beyond), blunt declarations of your 'adequacy' in her eyes, and even offers to 'crush your enemies together in glorious combat'. But somehow, none of it seemed to land.
Instead, you remained oblivious, flashing her that infuriatingly kind smile and treating her like a valued ally rather than someone she desperately wanted to claim as her partner.
One day, during a training session, Lae’zel’s frustration reached its peak. She had you pinned beneath her, her blade at your throat, and instead of fear or admiration, you chuckled.
“Nice move,” you said, your grin wide. “I’ll have to remember that one.”
She grit her teeth and growled, pressing the blade a little closer—not enough to hurt, but enough to make her point.
“You do not take me seriously!” she snapped.
You raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most serious people I know.”
“Not in battle, fool!” she snarled, pulling back and stalking away, her blade sheathed with a sharp clang, as you walked bewilderdly back to your tent.
From a short distance, Halsin, who had been watching the training with an amused glint in his eye, stepped forward to intercept Lae’zel. She stopped abruptly, glaring at the druid as if daring him to speak.
“Lae’zel,” Halsin said in his calm, measured tone, “may I offer you some advice?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You may offer. I will decide whether it is worth hearing.”
He chuckled, unfazed. “I’ve noticed your… interest in our leader.”
Her nostrils flared, and she crossed her arms. “And what of it?”
“You are a warrior, and I admire your strength,” Halsin began, “but perhaps your methods of courtship are… misplaced.”
“What nonsense is this?” she scoffed. “I have made my intentions clear. I have praised their competence. I have challenged them in combat. What more is required?”
Halsin smiled gently. “Perhaps a softer touch. Words that reveal your feelings without the shield of aggression. A gesture that shows your care rather than your strength.”
Lae’zel looked utterly baffled, as if he had just suggested she surrender to a mind flayer.
“Softness is weakness,” she spat.
“Not always,” Halsin countered. “Sometimes, it takes more strength to be vulnerable than to wield a sword.”
She opened her mouth to retort but found herself at a loss. Instead, she grumbled something unintelligible and stalked off, leaving Halsin shaking his head with a knowing smile.
The next morning, Lae’zel approached you at camp. There was an uncharacteristic stiffness to her posture, as if she were preparing for battle, yet her hands were empty.
“Leader,” she began, her voice clipped but quieter than usual.
You looked up from your map, offering her that same smile that never failed to undo her. “What’s up, Lae’zel?”
She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. For a moment, she considered abandoning this foolishness and returning to her usual methods. But Halsin’s advice echoed in her mind, and she forced herself to continue.
“I… value your presence,” she said, the words sounding foreign and awkward.
Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Uh, thanks? I value yours too.”
“No, you do not understand,” she snapped, then took a deep breath to steady herself. “I… value you. Your strength. Your wit. Your… idiotic charm.”
Your confusion deepened. “Lae’zel, are you feeling okay?”
She growled in frustration, her hand twitching toward her sword out of habit before she forced it to her side. “Do I need to spell it out for you, fool?”
“Apparently,” you said, still clueless but clearly trying to follow.
She stepped closer, her amber eyes burning into yours. “I desire you, leader. As my equal. My partner. My… lover.”
The words hung in the air, and for the first time, you saw Lae’zel in a new light—not just as a fierce warrior, but as someone deeply passionate and utterly vulnerable in this moment.
“Oh,” you said, the realization dawning on you. “Oh.”
Her jaw tightened, and she crossed her arms defensively. “If you find this amusing, I will—”
“I don’t,” you interrupted, a small smile playing at your lips. “I just didn’t think—well, I didn’t know.”
“Because you are blind,” she muttered, though there was no real venom in her tone.
You stepped closer, reaching out tentatively. “Lae’zel, I’m flattered. Truly. And… I’d like to see where this goes.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she looked as though she didn’t quite believe you. Then, with a sharp nod, she straightened her back and let a rare, genuine smile grace her lips.
“Good,” she said simply. “Now, let us prepare for the day. We have enemies to slay, and I will not let them distract you from what is ours.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. Lae’zel might not have mastered the art of softness, but in her own way, she was perfect.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Shadowheart:
Shadowheart had always been composed, her expression a careful mask of neutrality, but recently, every time she caught sight of you, her calm façade wavered. Her chest tightened, her thoughts scattered, and her usually sharp words became softer, laced with an uncharacteristic warmth. She knew the truth of it: she had fallen for you. Hard.
And yet, despite her every effort to show you her feelings, you remained utterly oblivious.
At breakfast that morning, Shadowheart decided to take another approach. She brushed past you as you prepared the fire, the faint scent of lavender trailing in her wake.
“Good morning,” she said, her voice soft but laced with what she thought was a hint of allure.
You looked up, smiling warmly. “Morning, Shadowheart. Did you sleep well?”
She nodded, sitting beside you with deliberate closeness. “As well as I could, knowing what awaits us each day. And you?”
“Fine, thanks. Just trying to get this fire going,” you replied, your focus returning to the task at hand.
She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a murmur. “You’re very skilled with your hands. It’s… admirable.”
You blinked at her, utterly missing the meaning behind her words. “Thanks! I guess all those years of camping have paid off.”
Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, but she refused to give up. Throughout the morning, she found small ways to stay near you, brushing her fingers against yours when you handed her something, complimenting you with what she thought was a sultry tone, and even laughing at your jokes—some of which, she had to admit, were terrible.
Still, you seemed completely unaware.
By midday, Shadowheart was frustrated beyond measure. She found Karlach near the edge of camp, inspecting her weapons, and stormed over.
“Karlach,” she said, her tone clipped but tinged with exasperation.
Karlach looked up, her fiery heart pulsing warmly. “What’s up, Shads?”
"Please don't call me that," Shadowheart crossed her arms, her frustration bubbling over. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve been dropping hints—no, practically throwing myself at them, and they just… don’t notice!”
Karlach blinked, then grinned, clearly enjoying the situation more than she should. “Wait, you’re talking about—?”
“Yes,” Shadowheart snapped, her cheeks tinged with pink.
Karlach let out a hearty laugh, her flames flickering slightly brighter. “Oh, this is rich. You? Pining? I never thought I’d see the day.”
Shadowheart glared at her. “This is not amusing. I need advice, not mockery.”
Karlach wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “Alright, alright. Let me think. So, you’ve been… what, flirting?”
“I’ve tried everything,” Shadowheart admitted, throwing her hands in the air. “Compliments, proximity, even subtle touches. And nothing! They treat me the same as everyone else.”
Karlach hummed, tapping a clawed finger against her chin. “Maybe they’re just really dense. Or, y’know, not used to someone as… uh, mysterious as you.”
Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “And what do you suggest I do? Write it out in blood on their tent?”
Karlach snorted. “Hey, that might actually work. But no, maybe you need to be more direct. Like, ‘Hey, I think you’re cute, let’s share a bedroll tonight.’”
Shadowheart stared at her, aghast. “I am not saying that.”
“Your loss,” Karlach said with a shrug. “But seriously, just talk to them. Be honest. I bet they’d love it.”
Shadowheart sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Honesty. Of course. The one thing I’ve been avoiding.”
“Hey, they like you for you,” Karlach said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Well, they would if they had half a brain and knew what was good for them. Go get ’em, tiger.”
Later that evening, as you sat by the campfire, Shadowheart approached you with purposeful strides. She was determined to take Karlach’s advice, even if it made her heart pound and her palms sweat.
“Can I join you?” she asked, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.
“Of course,” you said, shifting to make room for her.
She hesitated for a moment, then sat beside you, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
You turned to her, your expression curious but kind. “What is it?”
Shadowheart opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she let out a shaky breath and looked into the fire.
“I… I care about you,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
You smiled, completely misunderstanding. “I care about you too, Shadowheart. You’re a great friend.”
She groaned inwardly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, I mean I care about you in a… different way.”
Realization dawned on your face, your eyes widening. “Oh.”
“Oh?” she echoed, feeling both vulnerable and absurdly exposed.
“I didn’t—Shadowheart, I had no idea,” you said, your voice filled with genuine surprise and warmth.
“I noticed,” she muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips despite herself.
You reached out, gently placing a hand on hers. “I’m sorry if I’ve been clueless. I guess I just… never thought someone like you would feel that way about someone like me.”
She looked at you, her expression softening. “And why wouldn’t I? You’re… remarkable.”
The sincerity in her voice made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I guess that makes two of us, then.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “You… feel the same?”
“Yeah,” you said, your cheeks flushing. “I guess I was just waiting for a sign.”
Shadowheart laughed softly, the sound lighter than you’d ever heard from her. “Apparently, I need to be less subtle.”
As the fire crackled between you, the tension that had been simmering for so long finally gave way to something warmer, something real. And for the first time in weeks, Shadowheart felt at peace.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Jaheira:
Jaheira was not a woman who pined. Or so she told herself. A High Harper, disciplined and pragmatic, she had weathered countless battles and heartbreaks. Yet, here she was, sneaking glances at you across camp, her chest tightening whenever you smiled or laughed. It was maddening. How had you managed to worm your way so deeply into her thoughts?
Despite her years of wisdom, Jaheira found herself at a loss. She didn’t know how to bridge the gap between the two of you, not without risking her pride or the delicate balance of your group.
The worst part was your complete and utter obliviousness. She’d tried subtlety—lingering conversations, offering you extra help with tactics, even sharing stories of her youth that she told no one else. You simply smiled warmly, thanked her, and went about your day as though her heart hadn’t been laid bare in every word.
One evening, after another frustrating day of yearning and getting nowhere, Astarion finally had enough.
“Jaheira, darling, may I have a word?” Astarion said, sidling up to her as she sharpened her blade near the fire.
“What do you want, Astarion?” she asked, her tone brusque.
He smirked, clearly unbothered by her irritation. “Oh, nothing much. Just to offer my… expert services in matters of the heart.”
Jaheira blinked, her sharpening stone pausing mid-stroke. “What are you talking about?”
Astarion gestured dramatically toward you, where you sat chatting animatedly with Karlach. “I’m talking about your obvious pining for our dear leader. It’s positively tragic to watch.”
Jaheira’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned back to her blade. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, please,” Astarion said, rolling his eyes. “You practically glow whenever they’re around. It’s adorable, really. But I must say, your approach could use some… finesse.”
Jaheira scowled at him. “I am not some lovesick fool, and I certainly don’t need advice from a vampire with more charm than sense.”
“Perhaps not,” Astarion said, unfazed. “But consider this: have your current tactics worked? Have they so much as noticed your affection?”
Jaheira’s silence was answer enough.
“I thought so,” Astarion said smugly. “Now, listen closely. You need to be bold. Direct. Use your natural charisma and authority to your advantage. And if all else fails, a little flirtation never hurt anyone.”
Jaheira narrowed her eyes. “I am not a charlatan like you, Astarion. I won’t lower myself to cheap tricks.”
“Who said anything about cheap tricks?” Astarion replied, feigning offense. “Think of it as… a strategic maneuver. After all, you wouldn’t hesitate to outwit an enemy in battle, would you?”
Jaheira sighed, considering his words. As much as she hated to admit it, he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Fine. I’ll listen. But if this backfires, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”
“Splendid,” Astarion said, clapping his hands together. “Now, let’s start with a little more confidence in your approach…”
The next morning, you noticed something strange about Jaheira. She was… different.
She approached you with a faint smile that seemed just a touch too practiced, her movements deliberate and graceful in a way that reminded you of someone else.
“Good morning,” she said, her voice smooth and measured. “Did you sleep well?”
You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. I did. And you?”
“Perfectly,” she replied, her eyes lingering on you in a way that felt… odd. “Though I couldn’t help but think of our conversation from yesterday. You truly have a fascinating mind.”
You tilted your head, trying to piece together what was happening. Something about her tone, her body language—it was familiar. And then it hit you.
“Wait a minute,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Why are you acting like Astarion?”
Jaheira froze, her carefully crafted façade slipping for just a moment. “I… what?”
“You’re doing the thing he does,” you said, mimicking a dramatic hand gesture. “The suave, overly charming thing. It’s not like you.”
Jaheira’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned away, muttering something under her breath.
From across camp, Astarion burst into laughter, doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “Oh, this is too good!”
Jaheira shot him a withering glare before turning back to you, her expression softening. “Perhaps I’ve been… trying too hard. Forgive me if I seemed unlike myself.”
You smiled, your warmth cutting through her frustration. “You don’t need to try so hard, Jaheira. I like you just as you are.”
Her breath caught, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Then, with a small, genuine smile, she nodded. “Thank you. That means… more than you know.”
As she walked away, Astarion approached, still grinning. “Well, that could have gone better, but at least they noticed you.”
Jaheira shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Never again, Astarion. Never again.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Gale:
The late afternoon sun hung low, painting the riverside in warm golds and soft shadows. Gale, waist-deep in the cool water, had his arms crossed in front of him as if the sheer act of holding himself together could quell the maelstrom of feelings raging inside. His crush on you was a storm that refused to abate, leaving him with sleepless nights and days filled with longing glances.
From the riverbank, Minthara watched him with a look of abject irritation. Minthara had ordered him to take a dip in the cold water after he had decided to unleash his love-filled ranting unto her ears as they collected water. She assured him she would be fine to take the water back by herself, and when he thought she had left he keenly stripped and waded into the water. But Minthara had not left, no, Gale's lovesick demeanor had created a vendetta against her and she decided to take action.
"Pathetic," she muttered under her breath. She didn’t think it was possible for wizards to get worse, but Gale was proving her wrong. With a smirk, she moved silently to where Gale had left his clothes folded neatly on a nearby rock. With the swift efficiency of a seasoned tactician, she gathered them up and strode back toward camp.
You were enjoying a moment of quiet when Minthara approached, holding a bundle of robes in her arms.
"The wizard is by the river," she said bluntly. "It seems he’s in need of assistance."
You frowned, glancing at the clothing. "Assistance? With what?"
Minthara’s lips quirked into a thin smile. "He appears… indisposed. Perhaps you should go and see for yourself."
Before you could ask more, she tossed the robes into the fire and strode away, leaving you thoroughly puzzled but intrigued. You could have sworn those were Gale's. With haste, you made your way towards the river and when you arrived at the riverbank, you called out, "Gale? Everything alright?"
Gale startled, his head whipping around to face you, his hair slicked back and glistening in the sunlight. Clearly he had been searching for his robes. "Ah, no! I mean, yes—yes, everything’s fine!"
You raised a brow, stepping closer to the water’s edge. "Are you sure? Minthara said you needed help."
At the mention of her name, Gale groaned. "Of course, she did. And I suppose she also absconded with my robes?" He shot a wary glance toward the shore, clearly trying to maintain some distance.
"Unfortunately so. What’s going on?" you asked, scanning the area. Then you noticed the way his face burned red, his expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "Why are you still in the water? It’s getting late. and the river's current is about to pick up, you need to get out, now."
He hesitated, his fingers flexing nervously beneath the water’s surface. "It’s… complicated."
"Complicated how?" You looked around, spotting no immediate danger apart from the increasing current. "Do you need a hand getting out? I can lend you my cloak."
"You don’t understand!" Gale blurted, his voice cracking slightly. "This isn’t about the cold—or the current. It’s…" He trailed off, visibly warring with himself.
You tilted your head, curious and slightly amused. "Then what is it about? You’re not exactly making it easy to help you."
Gale sighed deeply, sinking a little lower into the water until only his nose and eyes peeked out. Then, in a low, hurried tone, he confessed, "I’m afraid my feelings for you have… manifested in a rather inconvenient manner."
Your brow furrowed. "Feelings for me?"
"Yes!" Gale said, his voice growing more desperate. "Feelings. Strong feelings—romantic, longing, entirely improper feelings for someone as… exceptional as you."
You blinked, the weight of his words settling over you like the warmth of the setting sun. "You—wait. You like me?"
"Yes," he muttered, his face practically steaming despite the cool water. "Which is precisely why I can’t leave this river at the moment."
The realization dawned slowly, but when it clicked, a grin spread across your face. "Oh," you said, fighting back laughter. "Oh."
"Yes," Gale grumbled, his mortification complete. "You see now why this is problematic."
You couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped. "So, let me get this straight. You’re saying your feelings are… visible at the moment?"
Gale pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you insist on phrasing it that way, then yes."
You laughed harder, the sound bright and unrestrained. "Gale, that’s not the end of the world."
"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "You’re not the one at risk of a compromising exit."
Still laughing, you crouched by the water’s edge, your cloak in hand. "Come on. I promise I’ll look the other way. Just wrap this around your waist - tightly, and let’s get you back to camp."
Gale hesitated, clearly torn between his pride and the practicality of your offer. The river was rising, and the current becoming less forgiving. He didn't know what would be worse, coming out in this state or having to have you rescue him whilst he was in this condition. Finally, he sighed. "You’re infuriatingly kind, you know that?"
"Only to people I like," you teased, winking at him.
That earned you a small, genuine smile, despite his predicament. Slowly, cautiously, he edged closer to the shore, his blush never fading. You diligently kept your eyes closed, but there was that little devil inside you willing you to take a peak. He wrapped the cloak around his waist, only for you to hear a small, defeated sigh.
"You cannot laugh at me, but please may I request that I carry your shoes back to camp?" He asked, and you couldn't help but laugh.
"Wow you must really like me-"
"-The shoes please!"
Still giggling to yourself, you took off your shoes and passed them to him, allowing him to use them as a shield to his nether region.
You were finally able to look at him, his cheeks flushed beet red as he murmured, "I am going to kill Minthara, or at least try to."
"You know, Gale, I think Minthara might have done us both a favor."
Gale groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Never speak of this again. And especially do not encourage her behaviour."
"No promises," you said with a grin, walking beside him as you both headed back to camp. "Perhaps, I might want to get caught short with you."
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Astarion:
Astarion was not accustomed to being ignored, least of all by someone who had managed to captivate him so thoroughly. Yet here you were, brushing off his every flirtation, every lingering glance, every word dripping with a charm that could make others fall at his feet.
You were different, infuriatingly so. Every smirk, every sly compliment, every touch of his hand to your arm was met with a polite laugh, a nod, or—worse—a casual thanks before you moved on as though he hadn’t just thrown his best seductive lines at you.
For someone like Astarion, whose every move had been meticulously calculated for centuries, this was unbearable. He was practically seething with frustration as he watched you across the camp, laughing at something Karlach had said. He sighed dramatically, slumping onto a nearby log, the perfect picture of a man whose heart was in shambles.
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why you might be cautious around him. He wasn’t blind to his own past or the scars it had left on his soul. But this? This obliviousness wasn’t caution—it was sheer ignorance of his very obvious yearning.
And so, out of options and desperately needing help, he did something he never thought he would: he sought out Gale.
Gale was sitting by the fire, absently flipping through his spellbook, when Astarion approached him. The vampire’s usual smirk was replaced with something that looked suspiciously like a grimace.
“Gale,” Astarion began, his voice unusually subdued.
Gale looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Astarion? To what do I owe this… peculiar honor?”
Astarion waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, spare me the preamble. I need your help.”
“My help?” Gale blinked. “What kind of apocalyptic disaster requires my assistance? Surely not something involving a certain someone we both know?”
Astarion’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes. Them.”
Gale set his book down, his interest piqued. “Ah, I see. You’re pining.”
“I am not pining,” Astarion snapped, though the blush creeping up his pale cheeks betrayed him. “I am… strategically pursuing. Subtly, I might add.”
Gale snorted. “If by subtle, you mean utterly transparent, then yes. You’ve been as subtle as a fireball in a wheat field.”
Astarion scowled. “They don’t see it that way. They think I’m just… charming. Which, of course, I am, but there’s more to it than that.”
“And you want my advice?” Gale leaned back, crossing his arms. “Me, the man you’ve spent weeks mocking for my ‘tragic romanticism’?”
“Yes, yes, revel in the irony if you must,” Astarion said impatiently. “But you’re annoyingly good- most of the time, at all this grand gesture nonsense, and clearly, I need a new approach.”
Gale chuckled, a little too pleased with himself. “All right. Let’s see. The key here is sincerity. You can’t just charm your way through this one. You have to show them how you feel.”
Astarion frowned. “And how exactly do I do that?”
“Think of something meaningful to them,” Gale suggested. “An act that demonstrates you understand them, that you care about them deeply. And,” he added with a smirk, “maybe tone down the smirking and innuendo for five minutes.”
The next day, Astarion put Gale’s advice into action—or at least, his version of it. You were sitting by the riverbank, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when Astarion approached you, holding something behind his back.
“Ah, there you are,” he said, his tone softer than usual.
You smiled up at him. “What’s up, Astarion?”
“I, uh… I noticed something the other day.” He cleared his throat, looking uncharacteristically awkward. “You mentioned how much you missed those silly little biscuits from Baldur’s Gate, the ones with the sugar glaze.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “I did?”
“Yes, you did,” he said quickly. “And, well… here.” He produced a carefully wrapped package and handed it to you. Inside were a handful of the biscuits, slightly crumbled but still intact.
Your eyes widened. “How did you…?”
“Don’t ask questions,” he said, his smirk creeping back despite his best efforts. “Just enjoy them.”
You looked up at him, touched by the gesture but still utterly oblivious to the deeper meaning. “Thanks, Astarion. That’s really sweet of you.”
He stared at you for a moment, waiting for something—anything—to click. When it didn’t, he sighed dramatically and flopped onto the grass beside you.
“Are you truly this dense, my beautiful fool?” he muttered under his breath.
“Hm?”
“Nothing,” he said, flashing you a too-bright smile. “Enjoy your biscuits, darling.”
From a distance, Gale watched the exchange with a shake of his head, muttering, “Some people are beyond help.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Wyll:
Wyll was not used to being ignored, especially when it came to matters of the heart. He prided himself on his charm, his courtly manners, and his ability to woo with a single smile. Yet, when it came to you, all his gentlemanly gestures seemed to bounce right off you like a deflected blade.
He would offer you his hand to help you over rough terrain, only to receive a simple "Thanks, Wyll!" and a cheerful pat on his shoulder. He’d bring you breakfast, perfectly arranged, and you’d compliment him on his “team spirit.” He’d even tried a few subtler lines, but you always brushed them off as his natural charisma, as if his feelings weren’t entirely focused on you.
So, after one particularly frustrating evening where you didn’t even notice how his gaze lingered on you by the firelight, Wyll decided he needed help.
And who better to consult than the camp’s most direct and fearless member, Lae’zel?
Lae’zel was sharpening her sword when Wyll approached, his usual confident demeanor slightly crumpled under the weight of his unspoken affection. She glanced up, her sharp eyes narrowing.
“Wyll,” she said bluntly, “you look as though you’ve swallowed a blade sideways. Spit it out.”
He cleared his throat, glancing around to make sure no one else was in earshot. “It’s about… them,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lae’zel’s expression didn’t change. “Ah, the object of your obsession.”
Wyll winced. “It’s not an obsession.”
“Call it what you will,” she said, shrugging. “You pine for them like a fledgling seeking a mate. What of it?”
“I don’t know how to… tell them,” Wyll confessed, his usual eloquence failing him. “They seem entirely immune to my advances.”
Lae’zel snorted. “Perhaps because your ‘advances’ are weak. Soft. You dote on them like a mother hen, not a warrior. If you want their attention, you must assert dominance.”
“Assert dominance?” Wyll repeated, looking increasingly alarmed.
“Yes,” Lae’zel said firmly. “Challenge them. Best them in combat. Show them your strength. Then, when they are weak and trembling, you proclaim your intent to claim them as yours.”
Wyll’s face turned scarlet. “That’s—That’s not how courtship works!”
“Of course it is,” Lae’zel said, waving a dismissive hand. “You prove your physical and sexual prowess through battle. What better way to ensure compatibility?”
Wyll sputtered, his composure unraveling. “I—I don’t think they’d appreciate being ‘claimed’ like a prize after a fight.”
“They would respect it,” Lae’zel insisted. “And likely find it arousing.”
“Lae’zel!” Wyll’s voice cracked, and he buried his face in his hands, his flames of embarrassment rivaling Karlach’s.
From across the camp, you noticed the commotion and Wyll’s obvious distress. Concerned, you got up and made your way over. “Wyll? Are you okay?”
Lae’zel’s smirk widened as Wyll’s blush deepened. He scrambled to his feet, fumbling for words. “Ah—Yes! Fine! Everything is fine!”
You raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. “Are you sure? You look like you’ve just lost a sparring match.”
Before Lae’zel could open her mouth to make things infinitely worse, Wyll quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you aside.
“Just a minor… disagreement,” he said quickly, his voice cracking again. “Nothing to worry about.”
You gave him a curious look, but his obvious flustered state distracted you from pressing further. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
Lae’zel watched you go with Wyll, shaking her head and muttering, “Coward. They would have respected a proper duel.”
Meanwhile, Wyll was doing his best to calm his racing heart and come up with a less mortifying way to tell you how he felt—ideally without Lae’zel’s "help."
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Halsin:
Halsin prided himself on his control, his connection to nature, and his ability to remain grounded in even the most chaotic of circumstances. But when it came to you, all of that composure seemed to dissolve like frost under the morning sun.
You were utterly magnetic to him—your presence so compelling that his heart would stutter every time you entered the same space. He found himself enchanted by the curve of your smile, the warmth in your voice, the kindness in your touch. And it was unbearable. Literally, because every time you touched his arm or leaned in to speak to him, his instincts would flare wildly out of control.
The first time it happened, you’d brushed some stray leaves off his shoulder after he returned from foraging. “Halsin, you’ve brought back half the forest,” you joked, smiling up at him.
Halsin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a rush of heat overtook him, and— bam—he was suddenly a large, startled elk.
You jumped back with a yelp of surprise, staring wide-eyed at the animal in front of you. “Halsin?”
The elk gave a deep snort, its head hanging low as if mortified.
It happened again not long after, when you touched his hand while passing him a flask of water. This time, he transformed into a wolf, looking up at you with ears pinned back, practically radiating sheepishness.
“Halsin,” you laughed, kneeling down to scratch behind his ears, “you’ve got to warn me if you’re going to do that.”
By the time the third accidental wildshape happened—this time as a squirrel after you had simply smiled at him—Jaheira had had enough.
The older druid cornered Halsin after dinner, arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her face. “You’re a leader, Halsin. A figure of strength and wisdom. Yet here you are, hiding in fur and feathers because of a crush.”
“It’s not just a crush,” Halsin muttered, his deep voice unusually uncertain. “It’s… consuming. Every time I try to speak to them, I lose myself. They are radiant, Jaheira. I can hardly stand near them without—”
“—turning into livestock, yes,” Jaheira interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re a druid, not a child. Get a grip, Halsin. They won’t notice your feelings unless you make them clear. And for the love of Silvanus, do it without shifting.”
Halsin sighed heavily but nodded. “You’re right. I must face this head-on.”
Jaheira clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go before you sprout wings or something ridiculous.”
Halsin found you sitting by the campfire, a jar of honey and a piece of bread in your hands. The firelight danced across your features, and Halsin felt his heart thrum painfully in his chest.
“Is everything okay, Halsin?” you asked, looking up at him with a concerned smile.
Halsin cleared his throat, forcing himself to remain steady. “Yes, I… there is something I need to tell you.”
You tilted your head, some honey glistening on your lips. “Of course. What is it?”
And that was it. The sight of your lips, the gentle curve of your expression—it was too much. Despite every ounce of willpower he had summoned, Halsin’s body betrayed him. With a flash of light and a muffled groan, he was suddenly a massive brown bear, sitting heavily on the ground.
You blinked, staring at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Halsin! You did it again!”
From across the camp, Jaheira let out a long, exasperated groan, throwing her hands up. “I give up!” she muttered, stalking off.
The bear lowered its massive head, letting out a low huff of frustration. You reached over and gently placed a hand on his fur.
“It’s okay, big guy,” you said, grinning. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”
If Halsin could have blushed, he would have. Instead, he let you pet him, resigning himself to the fact that his feelings were much harder to control than he’d ever anticipated.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
This was so so so so so much fun to write !! Especially Gale's icl hehehe. Hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox
If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x
You are gorgeous omg
Aww thankyou so much love🥺🥺🥺
A slutty little waist is amazing but have you considered love handles? They are perfect and comfortable to hold and rest your hand on.....Just saying→_→
Mizu, femininity, and fallen sparrows
In my last post about Mizu and Akemi, I feel like I came across as overly critical of Mizu given that Mizu is a woman who - in her own words - has to live as a man in order to go down the path of revenge.
If she is ever discovered to be female by the wrong person, she will not only be unable to complete her quest, but there's a good chance that she'll be arrested or killed.
So it makes complete sense for Mizu to distance herself as much as possible from any behavior that she feels like would make someone question her sex.
I felt so indignant toward Mizu on my first couple watchthroughs for this moment. Why couldn't Mizu bribe the woman and her child's way into the city too? If Mizu is presenting as a man, couldn't she claim to be the woman's escort?
However, this moment makes things pretty clear. Mizu knows all too well the plight of women in her society. She knows it so well that she cannot risk ever finding herself back in their position again. She helps in what little way she can - without drawing attention to herself.
Mizu is not a hero and she is not one to make of herself a martyr - she will not set herself on fire to keep others warm. There's room to argue that Mizu shouldn't prioritize her quest over people's lives, but given the collateral damage Mizu can live with in almost every episode of season 1, Mizu is simply not operating under that kind of morality at this point. ("You don't know what I've done to reach you," Mizu tells Fowler.)
And while I still feel like Mizu has an obvious and established blind spot when it comes to Akemi because of their differences in station, such that Mizu's judgment of Akemi and actions in episode 5 are the result of prejudice rather than the result of Mizu's caution, I also want to establish that Mizu is just as caged as Akemi is, despite her technically having more freedom while living as a man.
Mizu can hide her mixed race identity some of the time, and she can hide her sex almost all of the time, but being able to operate outside of her society's strict rules for women does not mean she cannot see their plight.
It does not mean she doesn't hurt for them.
Back to Mizu and collateral damage, remember that sparrow?
While Mizu is breaking into Boss Hamata's manse, she gets startled by a bird and kills it on reflex. She then cradles it in her hands - much more tenderly than we've seen Mizu treat almost anything up to this point in the season:
She then puts it in its nest, with its unhatched eggs. Almost like she's trying to make the death look natural. Or like an accident.
You see where I'm going with this.
When Mizu kills Kinuyo, Mizu lingers in the moment, holding the body tenderly:
And btw a lot of stuff about this show hit me hard, but this remains the biggest gut punch of them all for me, Mizu holding that poor girl's body close, GOD
When Mizu arranges the "scene of the crime," Kinuyo's body is delicate, birdlike. And Mizu is so shaken afterward that she gets sloppy. She's horrified at this kill to the point that she can't bring herself to take another innocent life - the boy who rats her out.
MIZU'S ONE MOMENT OF SOFTNESS AND MERCY, COMING ON THE HEELS OF HER NEEDING TO KILL A GIRL TO SPARE HER THE WORST FATE THAT THIS RIGID SOCIETY HAS TO OFFER WOMEN, AND TO SPARE A BROTHEL FULL OF INNOCENT WOMEN WHO ARE THE CASTOFFS OF SOCIETY, NEARLY RESULTS IN ALL OF THEIR DEATHS
No wonder Mizu is as stoic and cold as she is.
And no wonder Mizu has no patience for Akemi whatsoever right before the terrible reveal and the fight breaks out:
Speaking of Akemi - guess who else is compared to a bird!
The plumage is more colorful, a bit flashier. But a bird is a bird.
And, uh
Yeah.
I like to think that Mizu killing the sparrow is not only foreshadowing for what she must do to Kinuyo, but is also a representation of the choice she makes on Akemi's behalf. She decides to cage the bird because she believes the bird is "better off." Better off caged than... dead.
But because Mizu doesn't know Akemi or her situation, she of course doesn't realize that the bird is fated to die if it is caged and sent back home.
Mizu is clearly not happy, or pleased, or satisfied by allowing Akemi to be dragged back to her father:
But softness and mercy haven't gotten Mizu anywhere good, recently.
There is so much tragedy layered into Mizu's character, and it includes the things she has to witness and the choices she makes - or believes she has to make - involving women, when she herself can skirt around a lot of what her society throws at women. Although, I do believe that it comes at the cost of a part of Mizu's soul.
After all, I'm gonna be haunted for the rest of this show by Mizu's very first prayer in episode 1:
"LET" her die. Because as Ringo points out, she doesn't "know how" to die.
Kind of like another bird in this show:
Zaundads Timeline (by me)
Featuring
A divorced girl dad
A stressed single mother
Their children
Timeline
Married high school sweethearts (dead wife montage below)
Bitter divorce after domestic abuse allegations
Parental alienation
Custody hearing
Custody hearing Winner 🥇
Parental alienation (again)
CPS was called (they wanted custody of his child)
Family therapy after parental alienation
And finally...AU divorced-remarried parents
I could do more but the gifs are killing my phone 😂
ok so i have a request but first i just wanna say ur writing is so cute 😭 like it gets me every time i'm giggling and kicking my feet ily
anyway can u write smth with jinx where her gf is in the hospital cause she got caught up in some kind of riot (kinda like the one isha got swept up in) and she had to get some kind of surgery and she's all loopy on the meds so when jinx is holding her hand she's like ??? I have a gf??? except jinx literally is her gf and she thinks it's funny so she's like 'yeah? what's your gf like?' and r accidentally insults her without meaning to and at the end the anesthesia wears off and she's like 'why're u laughing at me what did i say?'
just smth cute like that
of course!! thank you for the request <3
i appreciate the words a lot you’re so sweet! ilyt, i hope i did your request justice :)
summary; jinx’s girlfriend gets injured during the riot. she wakes up in the hospital, loopy, and forgets she has a girlfriend.
characters included; jinx, sevika (platonic), isha (mentioned, platonic/familial)
tags/warnings; fluff, crack (kinda), very minor hurt/comfort, mentions of war/combat, r gets injured
men dni.
you're not sure exactly what happened, and jinx isn't either.
it started with a rally in the undercity to protest against the brutality of piltover's enforcers. gas, mass arrests, and sheer brutality drove the people of zaun to organize, though what they wanted most was jinx.
jinx, zaun's royalty as they saw her- a young woman who wasn't afraid to stand up against piltover's regime. they saw her as a symbol, but those who knew jinx can attest that she never wanted that status. she's always been a bit selfish, seeking only to protect herself and those she loved. being dubbed a symbol was of no interest to her, and being at a rally was even less interesting.
but it happened, and jinx curses herself for not having been there.
all she's been able to gather is from word of mouth. you got beaten pretty badly apparently, having been slammed up against a metal fence, stabbed in the side, and punched until you damn near lost consciousness. then kicked until you did. it wasn't until around twenty minutes after that a medical team was called, and it took even longer for them to actually get there. distance between cities aside, piltover has never been enthusiastic about providing the undercity their services.
and that's all she's been able to get. nothing about your recovery, your whereabouts, if they were able to get a pulse from you and bring you back to consciousness. nothing.
not only did isha get sent to stillwater, but you were severely injured. even as your girlfriend was ecstatic to retrieve isha from her cell and free other zaunites, it all circled back to you.
she doesn't just want you, and doesn't just want isha. she wants the family that she's built together. she goes through the motions of playing with the little girl, trying to put on a brave face while they set off glitter bombs and isha's infectious laughter rings through the air. but it doesn't compare to you being there, the both of you playing with her and making her laugh.
you should be by jinx's side, holding her from behind and peering over her shoulder at isha's newest adventure. brushing the girl's hair while jinx (tries to) makes food for the three of you, helping paint the toys jinx made, but you're in a hospital bed somewhere in piltover that nobody has been able to crack yet. it drives her near insane.
the door to the hideout opens though, and sevika half peers through. jinx can hear creaking, but only rolls her eyes without turning around.
"not interested," she deadpans.
"i'm sure you're not," sevika huffs, but that doesn't deter her. "she's in a hospital not far from the council building. apparently she's awake. thought you might want to know that, at least."
that catches jinx's attention. her head snaps around, brows furrowing. "you're serious?"
"would i have come here if i wasn't?"
of course she wouldn't have. sevika's a busy woman and time is her currency- so within seconds, jinx is tossing her boots on and bolting toward the exit with a one-track mind.
"stay here with isha, would you?"
with the way the girl is rushing out, it doesn't give sevika much choice. she sighs, looking over to the little girl absorbed in coloring and sits next to her.
"looks like it's you and me for a while, kid."
✧.*
you're lucky jinx loves you, because it took a good twenty minutes just for her to be cleared to visit you.
"no, i don't have any explosives, no, i'm not here to push an agenda, no, i'm not causing any trouble. i just want to visit my girlfriend."
"but-"
"janna above- just let me see her. you'd think this stuff would be easier..."
her heart is beating like a war drum when she approaches the room. there's a clear door and a little curtain obscuring her view of the bed, but she can see an iv bag. numerous tubes connecting to your hidden body, and a heart monitor. she doesn't know much about medicine, but the steady beep, beep, beep of the monitor is a momentary relief to the girl. at least you're stable.
she steps inside, knocking on the inside of the doorframe slowly.
"hey, toots..." she starts, slowly opening the curtain to reveal your form. you're still bruised, but the swelling that must've been there before is mostly gone. your eyes are lost in a far-off stare while she carefully sits down on the edge of the bed. "i'm so glad you're okay. i wanted to visit earlier, i did, just..."
her slender fingers slowly slot between yours, and she finds your gaze meeting hers within seconds. there you are, she thinks. there's those pretty eyes. "hey," you murmur.
just that word is enough to bring tears to jinx's eyes. it takes everything in her power to not just pounce on you, bury her head in your neck while she trembles and cries and clings to you, but that's the last thing you need. especially after just getting out of surgery.
"i should've been there," she breathes out, her voice trembling softly. "i'm your girlfriend, you got hurt and i was just sitting on my ass, and... oh, fuck, i'm so sorry."
a beat of silence, and your brows furrow. then you tilt your head... what is going through your head right now? this isn't the reaction jinx was expecting.
"...i have a girlfriend?"
the words are like a blow to the girl's chest, her eyes widening as her face inches closer to yours. suddenly, the tears are gone.
"uh, yeah? you've had a girlfriend for the past what- eight months?"
you let out a little gasp, your mouth forming an 'o' shape. "really?"
how could you not remember that? you and jinx have been together for close to a year now and near inseparable, and now you just... forgot? but she looks around, she sees the monitors and wires and breathalyzer... right. you just got out of surgery. you're loopy.
"wow..." you murmur, your words slurring together the slightest bit. "i do? what's she like?"
and, well.. jinx would be a damn fool if she didn't have at least some fun with this. she sits back on the edge, flicking one of her braids over her shoulder with a toothy grin.
"well," she starts. "she's amazing. smoking hot, of course, and super smart. like, a genius. she's funny, and talented, she's something of a hero... you know. the whole shebang."
your eyes light up at the description, and it takes everything jinx has to not burst out laughing on the spot.
"she sounds great," you gasp, lips tugging into a little smile. in this barely-there state where you're seeing this beautiful girl you barely recognize in front of you, these words are a shock. you've had a girlfriend this time, and you didn't know? "when can i see her? where is she?"
jinx chuckles softly, letting out an amused sigh and shaking her head.
"you'll see her soon enough. she's closer than ya think, love."
you're about to sit back against the pillows again before a thought occurs to you.
"do you have a girlfriend?"
the girl stares at you incredulously for a minute, blinking. you must be really out of it- but it draws an actual laugh from her.
"i do, yeah," she huffs. "she's great, too. beautiful, talented, funny, sweet... basically perfect."
"aw, damn it..."
✧.*
a few hours, jinx getting food from the hospital's cafeteria, and jinx is back at your door. she would've been there sooner, but those pesky doctors just had to run some tests to make sure you were in stable condition after the operation.
she peers in the slightest bit to see you writing in something, a journal, presumably. she just barely steps in before your gaze lands on her, and you're beaming.
"jinx, you're here!" she hears from inside the room, and there's that smile she loves so much. she's quick to sit back on the edge of the bed, and you're even quicker to wrap your arms around her waist. the best you can while hooked up to tubes, anyways. "i wanted to talk to you, just.. i still haven't gotten my phone back."
and while she's ecstatic that you actually remember her now, she can't help but stifle a laugh. because you don't remember a damn thing about earlier.
"...hey, what's that look for?"
the dam breaks. she's laughing, doubled-over full belly laughing and you're left there, wide-eyed and bewildered.
"babe- hey! what's so funny?"
"i... jeez, i'm sorry, just, earlier you said-"
this only causes further confusion as your brows knit together and you try to turn your girlfriend to face you once again, though to no avail.
"you visited earlier? oh shit- i... what did i say?"
jinx is breathless between laughter and trying oh so hard to keep it together so she can just tell you. you were so damn loopy on those painkillers that you don't remember completely forgetting you have a girlfriend and asking if she was single, and she doesn't know if she has the heart to tell you.
"yeah, uh," she breathes out. "don't worry about it. it was nothing."
maybe she'll tell you after you've been discharged.
₊˚⊹♡ Valentines Day Headcannons ♡⊹˚₊
જ⁀➴ ♡ Starring: Vi.ᐟ Caitlyn.ᐟ Sevika.ᐟ જ⁀➴ ♡ !!-18//MDNI-!!
‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡ ♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧
•Sevikaજ⁀➴ ♡
❤︎ Oh she’s a sweetheart, really, but the poor woman is overworked and the day slipped her mind until Shoola makes some off-handed comment at work— then she’s absolutely cursing herself.
❤︎ She gets home late afternoon, flowers bundled up in her hands and an apology sitting on her tongue— her shoulders dropping at the sight of you bundled up on the sofa.
“Angel, I’m so fucking sorry.” Her voice is all soft and dejected as she sits down right beside you, a big hand resting over your knee. “You know work just keeps on pilling up, I didn’t even notice the—”
You immediately dismantle her, fingers curling around hers with a gentle smile and tender eyes, gleaming up at her with a sickly sweet love. “S’alright Sev, you’ll make it up to me.” And god she swears she will.
❤︎ And she really does! Cooking you up that one homemade meal you’re always bugging her to make since the first time she made it for you. A nice candle-lit dinner, popping open a bottle of your fave, showering you with sweet compliments and tender touches— her hand rubbing your thigh from beneath the table.
❤︎ In fact her hands don’t leave the soft curvature of your perfect body for a single moment, guiding you into your shared bedroom— kissing along your jaw and down your neck, a sincere apology hidden in the way she sheds your clothes from your body.
❤︎ She had you spread open for her on the bed, mechanical hand squeezing the inside of your thigh— the cold metal against your flushed skin shoots a shiver through your body, one that was only doubled as she pushes the vibrator a little harder to your clit.
“That’s it, baby, keeping making those pretty noises f’me yeah?” Her voice was all gruff and ragged, watching in almost awe as rubs the toy over your sensitive bud so painstakingly slow, you can’t help but buck your hips up in desperation, needing more.
“Mmfm, p-please Vika! please.” You whine, hands fisting at the bedsheets when she turns it up to a setting that makes your thighs shake as the vibrations intensify, your cunt soaking the toy as she rubs it through your slick folds.
“Please?— please what baby? I ain’t a mind reader.” She absolutely lives for the way you arch up from the bed, looking up at her with glossy eyes.
❤︎ Sevika likes to take her time, pushing you right to the edge before bringing the vibrator away with a small smirk, scoffing a chuckle as your whines get louder and somehow, even more, needier from the way she rubs the slick toy over your pert nipples. Immediately leaning into your tits to lick and kiss at your glistening peaks murmuring about how “fucking good” you taste, her hand caressing over your waist and ribcage.
“Soaked for me huh?” She notes, smirking against your nipple as you blabber on about how much you need her until she dips her hand between your thighs to push her ring and middle fingers inside of your cunt, slick walls clamping around her thick digits— then you’re all broken moans and breathless gasps. “There you go, fucking swallowing my fingers up, huh? Greedy girl.”
Her eyes drink in every inch of your body as she sits back, her mechanical hand bringing the vibrator back to your clit as she curls her fingers deep inside you, fucking you until you’re seeing stars and some more.
❤︎ Sevika does good in making it up to you— spoiling you with a bubble bath, making sure to fold your favourite pyjama set over the radiator so they’re nice and warm for when you get out— fresh bedsheets and your favourite candle. She’d dote on you all weekend too because, at the end of the day, she really thinks you deserve the best.
•Caitlynજ⁀➴ ♡
❤︎ Nothing can ever be just ‘casual’ with Caitlyn, it’s a whole day thing for her. From the moment you open those pretty eyes, she’s completely at your beck and call.
❤︎ She would wake you up with sweet whispered nothings murmured against your jaw, kissing along your bare shoulders and over the nape of your neck— fingers slowly grazing down your spine in a gentle attempt to coax you out of dreamland.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, my dearest.” her smooth velvety accent sends a slight shiver down your spine, humming in contentment.
You find her tender gaze as you turn to look up at her, all sleepy smiles and bleary eyes— her hand coming to rest against your warm cheek, tracing over the pillow lines that were printed into the soft skin. “Mm, happy Valentine’s Day love.” You respond, letting your eyes flutter close once more as she presses a kiss to your temple.
❤︎ She would have breakfast all ready, a platter of sweet fresh fruit and other various toppings for the heart-shaped waffles— she really does go all out and it was so worth it to see how your eyes twinkle in awe, the way your smile widens and the giggles that escape your lips.
❤︎ Caitlyn might have also splurged a little on you, okay maybe more than a little. A pretty dress that fitted your gorgeous frame oh so beautifully, adorning jewellery that made your complexion shine even more so than usual and a rather raunchy lingerie set that she couldn’t wait to take off, all folded in a gift bag just for you to wear tonight at dinner.
❤︎ A private booth in a fancy restaurant, gave her the perfect opportunity to tease you and she did— all night long, whispering filthy things into your ear. By the time the pair of you had climbed into the limousine, your panties were soaked and well Caitlyn really couldn’t help but slip her hand between your thighs, underneath your dress to rub her fingertips over the little damp spot.
“Mm, Cait—” you gasp, trying to keep as quiet as possible, not wanting the driver behind the partition to hear but it was so difficult when she hooks her middle finger over your lacy panties, the same pretty pair she gifted you with this morning, pushing them to the side slowly.
You hide your face against her shoulder, whimpering as she slides her fingertip along your slick folds, circling your clit with a feather-light touch— not giving you want you so desperately need which only makes you whine some more, hips bucking. “Sshh, you’re such a needy little thing, already so wet just from some words?” Her tone was almost condescending.
❤︎ A mess of shoes and clothes trail behind the pair of you, leading to your shared bedroom. Caitlyn didn’t have much patience, not when she was this turned on— needing to get her hands on you.
❤︎ Once she had you right where she wanted she couldn't stop. With you spread open for her in front of the mirror, her fingers teasing over your clit— wanting to make you cum again because gosh she couldn’t get enough.
“Look, baby, look how well your pretty pussy takes my fingers.” She coos, pressing a kiss to your jaw as you sit in between her legs— thighs draped over hers in front of the mirror as she slowly thrusts her two fingers into your fluttering hole. “Will you give me another, hmm?”
You let out a small whine, tipping your head backwards against her shoulder— her free hand instantly cupping your jaw, squeezing your cheeks together slightly, to make you face the mirror, admiring the way the pair of you fit together so perfectly. “Ah, Cait— Yeah, yeah, I can.” You whimper, watching how her fingers disappear inside you.
“Oh, such a good girl for me.” She hums in agreement, chuckling lowly as she curls her slender fingers perfectly— hitting that spongy spot deep inside you that makes your hips buck up against her hand, grinding your clit against the heel of her palm and whimpering for more. “That’s it’s, make a mess all over my hand— fuck, you’re so beautiful.”
Caitlyn watches the reflection in awe, how your hips rock against her hand in tandem with her fingers in reckless abandon, chasing after that relief until you're gushing all over her digits, soaking the silk bedsheets whilst she coos praises into the bare skin of your shoulder.
❤︎ She didn’t stop there, spending the rest of the evening drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were boneless against the pillows, hair all tussled and completely flushed and panting. A beautiful sight.
❤︎ Caitlyn would shower you with praise, whispering sweet nothings into your sticky skin— nosing at your jaw and kissing all over your pretty face, keeping you grounded whilst she cleaned you up with such gentle hands before getting you a nice, cold glass of water and whatever else you needed. The rest of the night she spent cuddling you, with your head tucked beneath her chin, playing with your hair.
•Violetજ⁀➴ ♡
❤︎ Violet tries so hard to be all nonchalant about it, trying to act like she didn't know what was coming up but can’t— she fails horribly. Waking up at the crack of dawn to decorate the living room with heart-shaped bunting and balloons, giggling to herself whilst you slept peacefully upstairs in your shared bed.
❤︎ It was the waiting that she couldn’t deal with, pacing around the living room completely restless— every tiny noise that came from upstairs had her gasping softly in anticipation.
Violet's eyes lighten up as you walk into the living room, one of her shirts hanging around your shoulders, hair all tussled and eyes oh so sleepy— you giggle softly in surprise, looking around the decorated living room, ‘awwing’ softly as you spot a beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting in a vase and a small box of your favourite chocolates. “There’s my girl, c’mere.” She chuckles, holding her arms out for you.
“When did you do this?” You ask all giddily, walking over to your equally excited girlfriend who all but tugs you closer to her— toned arms wrapped around your waist tightly.
“This morning, whilst you were snoozing.” She replies, words muffled against your hairline as she peppers your face with loving kisses, hands moving to cup your face, thumbs caressing your warm cheeks as you nuzzle into her palms with a content hum.
Your arms circle around her shoulders, holding her close as she watches your gaze flicker around the room once more— she lives for the way your eyes go all starry, the smile that was plastered across your pretty face. “Aw, you did really good.” You really just melt her heart completely, she hugs you tightly against her once more, showering you with affection as you both share murmured— “Happy Valentine’s Day.” and other sweet nothings.
❤︎ Vi would spend the morning doting on you, the full princess treatment because her girl really deserves only the best!— she’d treat you to whatever you wanted from the bakery just down the road for breakfast, showering together and doing your skincare routine for you.
❤︎ The pair of you would take the dog out for a nice walk around the local park before stopping at the shop, grabbing a few things for dinner and a couple of snacks along with pre-made brownie mix to bake later— which the pair of you somehow make a complete mess of but it was all apart of the fun!
❤︎ The whole day would be so relaxing— full of nothing but absolute love, your heart feeling so full as the evening rolls around. The pair of you snuggled up in bed as she kisses you ever so sweetly. The movie you had put on now long forgotten, the remote kicked off of the bed and somewhere on the floor as those kisses turned a lot more heated and greedy.
“Mm, need something baby?” Vi asks in between kisses, smirking against your lips as you grind your hips down against her— desperate for more of her, fingers grasping at her broad shoulders.
Oh, she’s so cocky. Chuckling against the soft curve of your jaw as she dips her hand into your pyjama bottoms, cupping your cunt through your underwear— the apparent wet spot giving you all away. “I want your— your strap, please.” You whisper shyly, pressing your face into her shoulder with a weak moan.
Your reply only inflates her ego, rubbing her fingers over your underwear— her other hand caressing over the curve of your waist and up to your hip. “Yeah? Don’t be shy baby, s’just me.” She coos, turning her head to press a kiss to your cheek, whispering a gentle, “Come on, tell me what you really want, hmm?” Lips grazing against the shell of your ear.
You whine, trying to grind down against her palm as you press your face further into the crook of her neck— groaning in both frustration and desire. “Want to ride your strap so badly, Vi— need you to fill me up, please.” You practically plead, and that was all Vi needed to hear.
❤︎ She never really had much patience, it was practically nonexistent when it came to you— especially when she craved you as bad as she does right now because god your body was a piece of damn art.
“You’re so beautiful, baby— keep moving, just like that.” Vi was practically drooling, her half-lidded eyes zeroing in on the way her strap disappears into your cunt with ease, the silicone toy glistening with your slick— hips grinding against her so clumsily, so desperately.
Her fingers dig into the fat on your hips for leverage, almost manhandling you into a slower pace so you could feel each mind-numbing drag of her cock along your gummy walls, drawing out those sweet broken cries from your parted lips— jaw all slack and eyes hooded. “F-Fuck Vi— feels so good!” You whimper, nails biting into her shoulder which all but shoots a shiver down her spine, making her arch her strap deeper up into you.
She swears to god she could feel you squeeze around her, physically impossible but right now, god, she’s certain— “Yeah? Taking it so deep angel, feel me right here, huh?” She coos, pressing her hand over your lower abdomen— her other sliding from your waist up to your tits as you continue to bounce her strap— thighs beginning to burn in such a good way.
You nod, blabbering on and on in agreement— a bunch of nonsensical moans that sound far too good slipping past your lips— so needy for her as your movements become all sloppy, your hand desperately pushing on hers until her fingers find your clit. “There you go baby, fuuuck look at you— cumming around my cock.” She watches in complete awe as you lose yourself in the feeling, bouncing on her strap until you’re gushing around the thickness— soaking her thighs.
❤︎ Vi would prepare a bath that would end in round two because she really couldn’t keep her greedy hands to herself— not that you had a single complaint when her fingers were stuffed inside you, thumb slowly rubbing against your clit, the warmth of the bubble bath enveloping you. It was all too good.
❤︎ You end the day all cuddled up in bed, matching pjs and clean bedding— her big, warm hands massaging your achy thighs as she lavishes your pretty face with tender kisses, telling you how much she loved you until the pair of you end up falling asleep halfway through a movie, limbs all tangled beneath the blankets.
‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡ ♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧
“i can’t help it, you’re fun to mess with” modern Vi au ? 🩷
✮⋆˙𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 modern!vi x reader ✮⋆˙𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 none ✮⋆˙𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 hi so i had this little thing in my drafts and changed a few things to fit the request !! i hope you like it ♡︎ also - modern vi has a special place in my heart (i just know she'd be a smug bastard)
♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎
Vi was sprawled across the bed, shirtless, hair still damp from her shower, one arm lazily slung around your waist. You were both on your phones, legs tangled under the covers. Her thumb scrolled absently, while yours hovered over your latest post.
You tried to act casual, but Vi caught the smirk you were failing to hide.
“What did you do?” she asked, suspicion in her voice.
You bit your lip, turning your phone so she could see the photo — a perfectly timed shot of her mid-workout, abs flexed, expression intense, the caption: “yes, she’s mine. no, you can’t have her.”
Vi blinked. “When did you even take that?”
“I have my ways.”
A beat of silence. Then her phone buzzed.
“Oh my god.” She stared at the flood of likes and comments. “‘Vi could ruin my life and I’d say thank you’? Damn.” She let out a low whistle. “These people are thirsty.”
You laughed. “Can you blame them? Look at you.”
Vi rolled onto her side, grinning. “You like showing me off, huh?”
You shrugged, smug. “You’re hot. I’m proud.”
She leaned in, brushing her lips against your neck, voice dropping. “Keep talking like that and I’ll give ‘em something new to thirst over.”
“Vi!” you squeaked, pushing at her chest as she laughed.
“You started it,” she said, scrolling again. “Wait—this one says ‘gym? I thought she carried hay bales on a ranch and threw people for fun.’”
You raised a brow. “Did they lie?”
Vi chuckled, clearly loving every second of it. “Nope. But now I feel like I should go shirtless more often.”
“Please don’t,” you deadpanned. “I don’t need a full-blown internet meltdown.”
She winked. “Too late. I am the meltdown.”
You groaned and buried your face in her chest. “Why are you like this?”
She kissed the top of your head. “Because you love me, i can’t help it, you’re fun to mess with”.”
You roll your eyes at her, smug idiot - unfortunately, you really, really did.
arcane characters x fem reader! in a fantasy au
characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.
writer's note: yo, just had the BEST time writing this! felt like i was in my element, total geek vibes. i'm all about that fantasy stuff, and i think i nailed every character. maybe we’ll do more parts of this, but y’all gotta let me know if you’re down! as you already know request are open ;)
viktor as a cursed sorcerer!
The tower stands in the middle of nowhere, an ancient and somber structure, surrounded by an unsettling silence. The full moon bathes its gray stone in an ethereal light, as if the very sky itself fears coming too close. You know you shouldn’t be here, but the urge to uncover the secrets this fortress holds has led you to its doors. The mission is clear: steal a single object, a forbidden grimoire, and escape before the sorcerer notices.
Your footsteps echo against the walls of the tower as you venture into its dark corridors. Every corner is filled with ancient books, bubbling vials of mysterious liquids, and artifacts that seem to radiate an arcane energy beyond comprehension. The air, thick with magic, wraps around you like a second skin, making you feel both small and infinitely connected to something greater. A soft sigh escapes your lips, a shiver runs down your spine. The tower itself feels alive—breathing, watching.
At the highest point, in what seems to be a laboratory where the darkest secrets are woven, you find what you were searching for: an ancient grimoire, bound in black leather with golden symbols that faintly glow in the dim light. You take it with trembling hands, knowing that with it, your fate is sealed. But before you can take a single step toward the exit, the air grows heavy with dark energy, and the room’s light seems to fade.
A whisper, soft as a sigh, echoes through the chamber. A deep resonance that reaches the most hidden parts of your being. The sorcerer is near.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” The voice is deep, rasping, filled with an authority that makes your skin prickle. You cannot see his face, but the pressure in the air tells you he is watching you with an intensity that makes you feel utterly exposed.
You turn, and there he stands. His figure is outlined in the gloom like an eternal shadow, a being that seems to exist beyond death. His skin, pale as the moon, is almost translucent, and his golden eyes glow with an intensity that pierces through your soul. Viktor—the cursed sorcerer, the lich who has sacrificed his humanity in pursuit of a power that not even the gods can comprehend.
“What brings you to my domain, intruder?” His voice slithers toward you, a cold whisper that cuts through you like a dagger. “Do you not know that everything has a price? Curiosity, greed… and now, your soul.”
But you do not step back. You are not afraid, not even as you feel the dark magic coiling in the air, making it difficult to breathe. Instead of fleeing, you stand your ground, holding the grimoire in your hands as a silent declaration of your defiance. You know what he has done, what he is, and yet, something inside you tells you that perhaps this being, who has forsaken life itself, can teach you more than you ever imagined.
“I am a scholar,” you answer, your words firm despite the slight tremor in your voice. “I came to learn, not to steal.”
Viktor watches you in silence, his golden eyes gleaming with an eerie light. A flicker of interest crosses his gaze, and for a moment, he forgets his own power. There is something about you that intrigues him, something even he cannot explain. In that instant, the tension between you shifts, as if the universe itself had decided to intertwine your fates in a way neither of you can comprehend.
“To learn?” The word leaves his lips with a mocking edge. “What do you think you can learn from a being like me? A mere mortal who is not even fortunate enough to still be among the living?”
His words strike your chest like a blow, but you do not falter. Instead, you step closer to him, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve.
“Perhaps I will learn what lies beneath your power,” you say, surprising even yourself with the strength in your voice. “Perhaps what you have sacrificed… was not what you thought.”
The sorcerer seems frozen in time, his glowing eyes flickering with something that is neither anger nor disdain, but something far more dangerous… desire? For a brief second, the hollow space within his chest seems to pulse—a heartbeat long forgotten, one that calls to you like a leaf caught in a current.
“Do you know what it means to renounce your humanity?” Viktor’s voice is softer now, almost vulnerable. “Do you know what it is to exist like this? Without a soul, without emotion, without love… all for power.”
His words resonate within you. You know he has paid a price, but at the same time, something in his eyes tells you that not all is lost—that somewhere, deep within him, something still lingers.
“No,” you whisper. “But I do know what it is to lose oneself. And I know that what we have lost does not have to define us. Perhaps there is still something you can reclaim.”
Viktor remains silent, and for a moment, the dark magic around him dims, as if, just for a second, he wants to believe in your words. The connection between you is intangible, like a breeze that travels the space between two lonely souls, each trapped in their own prison.
You take another step closer, your fingers grazing the surface of the grimoire you still clutch. Viktor watches every movement, and for the first time, you see something in his eyes—something that is not malice, but a profound sadness, a distant longing.
“And if I let you go,” he says quietly, his words laced with bittersweet tenderness, “what will you do with your life, scholar? Will you continue seeking what others have forgotten, or…?”
“I don’t know,” you answer, almost in a whisper, but there is something in your voice that speaks louder than any words. “But if you let me go, I will find a purpose. I always do. And maybe… you can, too.”
The magic in the tower seems to shift, as if a door has opened—not to a future you fear, but to one you might walk together. Despite his curse, despite his nature, Viktor feels as though he has found something in you that makes him question his fate. And you, in that same moment, realize that you have not only found what you came for, but something far more important: someone who, though cursed, is still capable of love.
You both know it is dangerous. You both know that the dark magic surrounding him could consume everything. But there is something else, something beyond death itself. Something only the two of you can understand.
The silence between you is thick, charged with the electricity of the forbidden. Viktor watches you as if you are an impossible riddle, as if your mere presence in his tower threatens to unravel centuries of solitude and absolute knowledge. For years—decades—he has mastered dark magic, crossed the limits of life and death, but he never anticipated this. He never imagined that a mere human could disrupt his world with nothing but words.
“You are strange, scholar.” His voice is a murmur, a confession carried by the spectral wind that haunts the tower. “You are not like the others. You do not tremble before my power, nor flee from what I am.”
You take another step closer, your fingers brushing the cold marble of the table between you, the grimoire still in your hands.
“Perhaps it’s because I see beyond what you are now.” Your voice is soft yet firm. “I see what you were. What you could be.”
Viktor lets out a low, bitter laugh.
“A condemned man. A soul that ceased to exist the moment I sealed my fate.”
You take a breath and dare to look directly into his eyes—those golden depths glowing with an unnatural light. Despite his curse, there is something human in them, a distant echo of the man he once was.
“I don’t believe you ever ceased to exist.” You clutch the grimoire to your chest. “If you had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
His expression hardens—not with anger, but with something far more dangerous. Vulnerability.
The magic in the tower hums, expectant. And then, Viktor speaks.
“Very well,” he murmurs. “You may stay.”
But as he looks at you, his gaze burning into your soul, he gives you one final warning.
“Knowledge comes at a price. And in my world… love is the greatest curse of all.”
And yet, you do not turn back.
Because even in the deepest darkness, love still lingers.
Even if it means being damned along with him.
And so, in the shadows of the forbidden tower, begins the story that was never meant to be told.
jinx as a banshee!
The mist clings to the ground like a shroud, wrapping the cursed village in an icy embrace. The air is saturated with whispers, spectral laments that slip between the abandoned houses, carried by the nocturnal wind.
And then, the laughter echoes.
A sharp, mocking sound, distorted by death itself.
Your skin prickles, but not from fear. The first time you heard it, you thought it was a bad omen. That the villagers were right to warn you about the banshee that roamed the town, announcing death with her song. But over time, you began to seek that sound, to long for the moment when her voice would tear through the stillness. Because behind that ghostly echo, there was something more. Something that called to you.
And tonight, she has come for you.
The air turns frigid in an instant, and when you blink, Jinx is there. Suspended in the air, as if the wind itself cradled her in its arms. Her skin is pale as alabaster, her blue hair floating around her like ethereal flames. Her eyes glow with an otherworldly light, but what captivates you most is her smile—tilted, playful, with a touch of madness and melancholy woven together.
"Found you." Her voice is a seductive murmur, gliding through the air like a thread of silver.
You don’t scream. You don’t run. You only watch her, fascinated.
She tilts her head, circling you slowly, as if evaluating a new toy. "You know, most people scream when they see me." Her icy fingers brush against your cheek, sending a shiver through you, but you don’t pull away. Jinx narrows her eyes, amused. "But you don’t. Why?"
Because you don’t fear her. Because death has never scared you. Because, somehow, she doesn’t feel like a harbinger of doom, but like a mystery you want to unravel.
"Because you don’t seem as terrifying as they say."
Jinx’s laughter vibrates in the air, a melody both inhuman and enchanting, twisting between the real and the spectral. "Oh, sweetheart… that’s a mistake."
Suddenly, the world shifts.
The village distorts, buildings contorting, shadows coming to life. You’re somewhere else now—a realm between life and death, where colors are too vivid, where the ground beneath your feet feels unreal. Spirits drift around you, translucent figures who weep and laugh, trapped in an endless cycle.
Jinx watches you with delight. "Welcome to my world."
Your breath catches. You don’t know if it’s terror or wonder that fills you, but Jinx steps closer, her cold hands holding you with an unsettling gentleness. "Aren’t you scared?" she whispers, her lips inches from yours, her laughter dancing in the air.
You don’t answer. Because the truth is, you are. But not in the way you should be.
You’re afraid you won’t be able to walk away from her.
You’re afraid you won’t want to.
Jinx smiles, as if she can read your thoughts. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
The ground beneath your feet feels unsteady, as if you’re walking on the breath of a dream that could vanish at any moment. You’re in Jinx’s world now, a dimension suspended between life and death, where the lights flicker like ghostly fireflies and the sky is an endless stretch of shadows entwined with blue glimmers.
The banshee moves with eerie lightness, her feet barely touching the ground as she twirls, radiating the capricious joy of someone who has long forgotten what it means to be human. Her laughter rings through the air, a melody that dances between beauty and terror.
"So, little adventurer," she murmurs, watching you with those eyes that burn like blue fire, "what’s your story?"
Her voice reverberates through the corners of this spectral realm, as if each word leaves a scar in the air itself.
"My story..." you repeat, trying to grasp onto something tangible while your mind struggles to understand where you truly are. "I don’t know. I don’t think it matters here."
Jinx stops. Her expression softens for a moment, as if she’s found something unexpected in your answer. "Exactly," she whispers, almost like a secret shared between you. "Here, nothing matters. Not time, not names, not even memories."
She extends a hand, and without thinking, you take it. Her touch is frigid, as if death itself dances on her skin. But her grip is firm, so real that you can almost convince yourself you still belong to the world of the living.
"Come, I want to show you something."
You follow. Not because you trust her, but because the pull of her presence is impossible to resist.
She leads you through a forest of barren trees, their branches twisting in the air like skeletal fingers. Tiny lights float between them—souls trapped in the border between worlds. Some whisper in barely audible sobs, others laugh with a hysteria that chills the blood. Jinx ignores them.
Finally, you reach a clearing where an ancient fountain stands at the center. Its water is not water, but a swirling mist of silver that churns endlessly. Jinx lets go of your hand and sits at the fountain’s edge, swinging her legs with the careless joy of a mischievous child.
"This is my favorite spot," she says. "It’s where I can hear the voices of those about to die."
Your stomach tightens. "You hear them?"
She nods, and for the first time, the laughter fades from her face. There’s something melancholic in her expression, a weight you hadn’t noticed before. "Always. Every time someone is about to cross over, their last words drift here. Sometimes they’re broken promises. Sometimes regrets. Other times..." She pauses, staring at the mist with a sorrow that surprises you. "Other times, they’re just a sigh."
The silence between you is heavy.
You kneel beside her, feeling the cold radiating from the fountain. "It must be exhausting to hear that all the time."
Jinx looks at you, and for the first time, there’s no mockery in her eyes. Only something that resembles vulnerability.
"No one ever says that."
Your heart pounds harder. You don’t know if it’s from fear or from the strange tenderness you’ve just discovered in the creature before you.
Jinx leans closer, her smile returning, though softer this time. "You know, I like you," she murmurs, her fingers brushing your wrist with the delicate touch of a breath of wind. "Maybe I’ll let you stay a little longer."
You don’t know if that’s a reward or a curse. But when she intertwines her fingers with yours and the world around you seems to grow more vibrant, you realize you’re already trapped.
Not in her world.
In her.
vi as a werewolf!
The moon hangs in the sky like a watchful eye, spilling its pale light over the forest. Mist swirls between the tall, gnarled trunks, filling the air with the scent of damp earth and the whisper of rustling leaves.
You shouldn’t be here.
The stories about this forest are not mere superstitions; every villager who has crossed the border of these trees has vanished without a trace.
But fate, cruel and capricious, has drawn a different path for you.
A howl tears through the night before scarlet eyes emerge from the undergrowth. There are many of them. Shadows within shadows, stalking with a silent ferocity that makes your skin prickle. Your heart hammers in your chest as a deep growl rises to your right, and before you can even think of running, something strikes you.
The world tilts, and you fall onto the cold grass. An overwhelming weight pins you down, and when you look up, you meet a pair of impossibly pink eyes glowing in the darkness.
Her face is mere inches from yours, her breath warm against your skin, but what truly sends a shiver down your spine is the intensity in her gaze. It’s not just the fierceness of a hunter—it’s something deeper, something primal. Something that doesn’t understand why she hasn’t killed you yet.
“Who are you?” Her voice is a low growl, threatening.
You swallow hard, forcing yourself to find your voice. “Just… a traveler.”
Vi narrows her eyes, her fingers pressing your wrists harder against the ground. Her grip is firm, but not crushing. There is control in her strength, yet also a subtle tremor, as if she’s holding back.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.”
The pack moves around her, wolves with dark fur and glowing eyes watching the scene with anticipation. Vi is their leader, and they await her decision. But she remains still, looming over you, her breath heavy, her chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm.
Finally, after a long, tense silence, she jumps back.
“Lock her up.”
The wooden cage is stronger than it looks, reinforced with claws and teeth of creatures that once dared to challenge the pack. Hours pass slowly, and the feeling of being watched never fades. Vi hasn’t returned since you were thrown in here, but her presence lingers in the air like a storm waiting to break.
When she finally appears, the moon is high in the sky. She no longer carries the form of the beast, yet you can still see it in the way she moves, in the way her eyes never blink as she watches you.
“I should have killed you,” she says bluntly.
“Why didn’t you?”
Vi remains silent. Then, with calculated slowness, she steps closer to the cage, wrapping her fingers around the bars. You can see the tension in her hands, the muscles in her arms tightening with restrained strength.
“I don’t know,” she finally admits.
She doesn’t know, but you do. You saw it in her eyes, in the way her wolf fought against its instinct to tear out your throat. There is something holding her back. Something she doesn’t want to name.
Fate.
The word hangs in the air, unspoken yet ever-present.
She feels it, just as you do.
You know what it means to werewolves. An unbreakable bond. A tie forged by the moon itself. If what Vi feels is real, then she is trapped in an impossible dilemma.
Kill you. Or claim you.
The thought sends a shiver down your spine. And yet, a part of you wonders… what would you choose?
And the next full moon will decide the rest.
caitlyn as a vampire!
The night in the Ravencourt mountains was an icy whisper among the dead trees. The castle loomed over the mist like a stone sepulcher, its gothic towers cutting against the pale moon. The stories spoke of a monster dwelling within—a creature with sharp fangs and eyes that gleamed like sapphires in the gloom.
And you had come to kill her.
Your footsteps echoed through the silent halls, the shadows stretching like spectral fingers as your hand clutched the hilt of your silver dagger. The air smelled of melted wax and aged wine, but beneath it… blood.
You were not alone.
"How disappointing," the voice reached you before the figure did. "I was expecting something more… imposing."
You spun in an instant, your dagger poised to strike. But Caitlyn didn’t move. She was leaning against the stone wall with the elegance of someone who had centuries to perfect arrogance. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light—cold, calculating, yet laced with amusement.
"A monster hunter, sent to kill me. How ironic."
"You’re no different from the other vampires I’ve slain," you spat.
Caitlyn smiled, her fangs glinting under the moonlight filtering through the stained glass windows. "Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong."
In a blink, she was no longer against the wall. She moved faster than you could react, and suddenly, your back collided with a marble pillar. Her face was mere inches from yours, her breath as cold as the night wind.
"If I were like them," she murmured, her fingers grazing the line of your jaw, "you’d already be dead."
Your heart pounded against your ribs.
"Don’t play with me," you warned, trying to ignore the shiver running down your spine.
Caitlyn tilted her head, her lips dangerously close to your neck. She didn’t press down, didn’t bite. She merely let the moment stretch, let the tension weave between you like an invisible thread.
"Play?" she whispered. "Darling, if I were playing… you would have already lost."
Her voice was like dark silk, like the caress of the night itself.
And the worst part… was that she was right.
She didn’t kill you that night.
Instead, she let you go, with a challenge on her lips and a promise in her gaze. You returned to the castle, night after night, searching for reasons to hate her, to convince yourself that she was no different from the monsters you had hunted before.
But every time she found you in the shadows, every time she saved you from something worse than her, every time her smile curled with that exquisite taunt… the certainty inside you crumbled a little more.
Caitlyn played with limits, with the space between desire and danger, between the hunt and surrender.
And you didn’t know how much longer you could resist.
jayce as an elf prince!
The Kingdom of Eldareth was a dream carved in light and sculpted in gold. Its crystal towers rose toward the sky, capturing the sun’s rays in an ethereal glow. The forests whispered with ancient magic, and the rivers sang songs only the elves could understand. Here, everything seemed unchanging, eternal. Here, the ephemeral had no place.
That was why, when you set foot in the court of the crown prince, you immediately felt the weight of the gazes upon you. A human in the heart of the elven kingdom. A foreigner in a land where perfection was the norm.
And no gaze was more intense than that of Jayce Talandriel, the golden prince.
From the moment you were introduced as his escort, he regarded you with a mixture of disdain and curiosity.
"A human protecting me?" His tone was a blade wrapped in velvet. "Is this some kind of joke?"
"If it is, Your Highness," you replied with a mocking bow, "I hope you find it amusing."
The court held its breath. Jayce raised an eyebrow.
From that day on, your relationship became a battle of wills.
He tested your patience with comments about "human clumsiness." You proved to him, with every training session, that you could disarm him in seconds. You argued daily, clashed like summer storms, and yet…
When he thought you weren’t looking, his eyes followed you.
When night fell and the kingdom was draped in its mantle of stars, he took you to places where magic flowed purest. He showed you trees whose leaves glowed like fireflies, rivers where creatures of light swam, ruins where time stood still.
"I’ve never brought anyone here before," he murmured once, leaning against an ancient silver-barked oak.
"Not even some noble elf you’re destined to marry?" you asked with a teasing smile.
He let out a soft laugh but didn’t deny it. His world already had a predetermined path. And you were not part of it.
But then, one night, as the moon bathed the fields in a melancholic blue, you felt his hand on yours. A light touch, barely a graze, as if the difference between you could crumble with a single gesture.
"If things were different…" he began, but let the sentence drift into the wind.
Because things were not different.
You were a human warrior, born to fight and move on.
He was an elven prince, born to stay and rule.
But for a fleeting second, as his breath brushed against your lips and the world seemed to hold its breath… none of that mattered.
You could feel the magic in the air, vibrating between you. The same magic that flowed through his veins, the same magic that separated his world from yours. You weren’t blind to reality. You knew that an elf like Jayce had his destiny set from the moment he was born, his ties to the royal family bound by ancient pacts that ensured the kingdom’s balance.
And yet, you did not step back.
"You are the crown prince," you said softly, the whisper of leaves carrying your words. "And I am just a passing human. What’s the point of imagining things could be different?"
Jayce clenched his jaw, as if the truth tasted bitter. "You are more than that."
The echo of his confession lingered between you. And for the first time, after all the arguments, all the clashes, all the defiant glances… you didn’t know what to say.
ekko as a wayward fairy!
The forest had no end.
Each tree seemed to reflect upon the next, as if the whole world repeated itself in an endless cycle. The shadows stretched and shrank with every step, and the whisper of the wind carried laughter. Childish, mocking laughter that bounced between the leaves like tiny bells shaken by invisible fingers.
You stopped, your breath caught in your chest, feeling the weight of magic pressing against your skin. You were not alone.
“Well, well… what do we have here?”
His voice was a playful murmur, barely a caress in the air. Then, a presence appeared above you: a young man with bright eyes and translucent wings that reflected the moonlight in shades of gold and emerald. He was floating upside down, elbows resting on the air as if it were his own throne.
“Let me guess,” he said with a crooked smile. “You’re lost.”
You didn’t answer immediately. It was hard to tell if he was real or just another illusion of the forest.
Ekko snapped his fingers, and suddenly, the moon multiplied in the sky. Five, ten moons twinkled above you, each spinning in opposite directions. You blinked, stunned, and when you looked again, reality had returned to normal.
“Well, well, seems like you're more resilient than I thought.”
He landed softly in front of you, tilting his head in curiosity. Though his expression was mischievous, his eyes held a glimmer that wasn’t entirely joyful.
“Listen, little human,” he began, circling around you. “This forest is no place for your kind. Time here is… fickle. A day, a decade, a whole lifetime… who’s to say how long you’ve been wandering?”
Your heart skipped a beat.
“I’m looking for the way out.”
Ekko smirked. “Of course you are. Everyone does.”
He stopped in front of you, and for a moment, his gaze seemed to darken. But then, his smile returned, and a spark flashed in his eyes as he took a step back.
“I’ll make you an offer, human,” he said, spreading his arms. “Let’s play a game.”
The word floated between you, light yet charged with meaning.
“A game…?”
“A game,” he repeated, spinning in the air with the ease of someone unbound by time. “Follow my lead, do as I do. If you catch up to me, I’ll guide you out of the forest. If you don’t…” His smile widened, revealing sharp teeth. “Then you’ll be mine.”
A shiver ran down your spine.
“Mine forever.”
The night breeze whistled through the trees, carrying his last words like an echo.
You knew you had no other choice.
“Alright,” you said, lifting your chin. “I accept.”
Ekko snapped his fingers, and the forest came alive.
The game began with a chase.
Ekko weaved through the shadows, vanishing and reappearing between the trunks as if time itself bent to his will. Roots tried to snare you, bushes turned into walls, and the fairy’s laughter filled the air, mocking your every stumble.
“Is that all?” his voice echoed behind you, yet when you turned, he was already gone.
You ran faster. You leaped over a stream that hadn’t been there a second before, dodged branches that seemed to move on their own. Your breath burned in your lungs, but you refused to give up.
Then, without warning, Ekko stopped in front of you.
You crashed into his chest.
He didn’t move. His hands closed around your arms with an unexpected gentleness, keeping you from falling.
“You’ve got guts, human.”
His voice wasn’t just teasing anymore.
The forest lights flickered. In that instant, with his dark eyes locked onto yours at such a close distance, you saw past the mask of mischief.
Something inside him was broken.
“Why do you live here alone?” you asked, your voice still unsteady from the chase.
Ekko didn’t answer right away.
For the first time since you met him, his smile faded completely.
But then, with a flicker of magic, he disappeared once more, his laughter scattering into the air like the wind of an endless night.
The game was not over yet.
Ekko’s laughter still lingered in the air, playful and ethereal, as if the forest itself fed on his mischief. “Are you still looking for a way out?” his voice resonated through the mist, wrapping around you like a whisper in the dark.
The feeling of being lost became more and more tangible, as if time itself were dancing around you. You walked blindly, heart racing, mind clouded. The forest shifted with every step, every direction you took leading you somewhere new without any logical order. It was as if the world you knew was unraveling around you, a dream beyond your control.
Suddenly, the mist began to clear, revealing a glade illuminated by thousands of golden fireflies. The air was thick with the sweet, strange scent of night-blooming flowers, and in the center of the clearing, Ekko was waiting, seated with an amused smile on his face. His eyes glowed with a spark of mischief, and his presence felt like a beacon in the darkness of the enchanted forest.
“You took your time, human,” he said, his tone relaxed but with a hint of challenge. “I thought you wouldn’t be able to keep up with my games.”
You stepped closer, trying to keep your composure, but you couldn’t stop your gaze from lingering on him, trapped by a strange fascination. “I thought you only liked playing. I didn’t know you actually wanted me to win.”
Ekko stood up slowly, his luminous figure like a dancing shadow among the fireflies. He moved toward you, and for a moment, his laughter faded, leaving behind a heavy silence. “What I want isn’t always what it seems,” he said, his voice softer, more serious. “And what seems like a game can have greater consequences than you imagine.”
The air around him thickened, growing heavier with each second. Something in his expression had shifted, shedding the carefree amusement to reveal a hint of sadness. It seemed that Ekko, the mischievous fairy, carried something inside him—something darker and more sorrowful than his playful facade.
“What’s wrong, Ekko?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, realizing that all this time, he hadn’t just tested you with his magic and illusions—he had shown you a part of himself no one else had seen. “What are you hiding?”
A sigh escaped his lips, and for a moment, his expression softened. “Time isn’t just a game to me, human. It’s a cycle that never ends, a prison that drags me along without mercy. I’ve been trapped here in this forest longer than you can imagine, but in you… I see something different. Something that might change everything.”
Suddenly, everything made sense. The forest, the time, the illusions… everything was designed to keep him captive. And you, caught in his game, had become something more than just a challenge. Without knowing it, you had become the key that might free Ekko from his eternal torment.
“If I stay here, what will happen?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. Would you become just another part of his cruel curse? Or perhaps… could you be his only way out?
Ekko stared at you, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. “If you stay, you’ll lose your way. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll find it in me.”
Seconds stretched like hours. You knew that if you took this path, everything would change. But as you looked at him—so vulnerable, yet so full of magic—you felt something inside your heart begin to waver.
“And if I accept your challenge?” you said, a hint of a smile forming. “What happens if I stay?”
“Then, you’ll be mine,” Ekko replied, his voice as soft as a spell already cast. But in his eyes, there was something more—something that spoke of hope, not just possession.
The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the feeling that time no longer mattered.
And so, in the magic of the forest and the echo of his laughter, the two of you became something more than lost souls—something fleeting, yet eternal.
silco as a demon!
A red glow began to fill the room, as if the very air was burning. You had made a mistake—one you could not take back. The summoning had been a desperate attempt, a last resort to obtain something you couldn’t get by any other means. But now, before you, stood him.
The air grew dense, heavy, as if the darkness itself was swallowing the light around you. Silco emerged from the shadows, his presence so powerful that the ground beneath your feet seemed to tremble. A demon, yes—but not just any demon. He was temptation incarnate, a master in the art of making people surrender to their darkest desires.
His voice was low, deep, like a whisper that seemed to speak directly into your mind, filling you with thoughts you weren’t sure were yours or his.
"What is it that you desire, human?" His tone was a mix of curiosity and something far more dangerous. "Because you already know—I offer nothing without expecting something in return."
You tried to keep your composure, though your heart was racing. Every instinct within you screamed to run, to forget this and leave. But an inexplicable force kept you rooted to the spot, trapped by the way his eyes—dark as the night itself—bored into you, piercing through every layer of your being. His gaze was intense, relentless, as if he could see straight into your soul.
"I offer you what you crave the most," he said, stepping toward you with slow, deliberate movements, like a predator closing in on its prey. "The opportunity for more power, more wealth, more… everything you could ever imagine. But—there is a price. There is always a price."
The temptation in his words was undeniable, and you knew you were about to make a choice that would change everything. Silco—the demon who trades in souls—was offering you something only he could grant. The promise of everything you desired, but at what cost? Your soul? Your freedom? Or something far more sinister?
"What I want…" your words were barely a whisper, trembling beneath the weight of his gaze. "What I want is… time."
A slow, wicked smile curled on his lips—one devoid of kindness. "Time… A very rare gift. And one that I can give you." He took another step forward, and at once, you felt the heat radiating from him. "But like any gift, it comes at a price."
He was too close now, and your breath hitched. The temperature in the room had risen noticeably, the air around you burning with an almost tangible intensity. Silco was a man of few words, but the ones he spoke were like spells—deeply seductive, impossible to ignore.
His face was inches from yours now, his breath warm against your skin, his presence wrapping around you like a shadow from which there was no escape.
"Accept my offer, and you shall have what you desire. But I know you won’t do so without hesitation, without doubt…"
The tension between you was palpable, electric, and something inside you was beginning to waver. Part of you wanted to flee, to escape whatever was happening—but another, much stronger part, wanted to know just how far this dangerous seduction could go. The power, the risk, the thrill—it was a game, one you were already ensnared in.
Silco, as if reading your thoughts, smirked again. His face drew even closer, his eyes gleaming with a dark promise.
"All I require, dear one, is that you surrender to me. Not now, not all at once—but little by little, with every encounter. And when the time comes, there will be no turning back."
The pulse in your veins pounded wildly, and a realization dawned upon you—whether you said no or not, you were already caught in his web. Every word, every glance, every movement was designed to erode your resistance. You had been invaded, ensnared by something far greater than yourself, and you knew that nothing would be the same after this moment.
"And if I refuse to surrender so easily?" you asked, challenging the imminent danger looming over you. But his low, dangerous laughter was answer enough.
"You’ll know when the time comes, human. There is no resisting what I offer. Because I am not just a demon… I am the only one who can give you everything you desire."
The pressure in your chest became unbearable, the air itself suffocating. The seduction in his words was too strong to ignore. You could feel the desire, the temptation surrounding you, wrapping you in an inescapable darkness.
Silco leaned in, his face mere inches from yours, his breath ghosting over your lips. His voice was a whisper in your ear.
"I am giving you an opportunity, human. A chance to claim what you want most. But be warned…"
"Because you won’t always know when you’ll give in. You won’t always know when you’ll be mine."
And in that precise moment, you knew—the fate awaiting you was inevitable. Dark, consuming, and utterly irresistible.
mel as a mermaid!
The storm had lashed the sea with fury, leaving in its wake a chaos of raging waves and skies riddled with lightning. The shipwreck had been inevitable, and when the waters finally calmed, the darkness that preceded the stillness seemed denser, deeper. The last thing you remembered was the sensation of sinking, the water filling your lungs, and then… nothingness.
You awoke, enveloped in a gentle current, but instead of the roaring sea and the deadly cold of the waters, the temperature was warm, embracing. Opening your eyes, you found yourself underwater, floating like a specter in an expanse of blues and greens. It was not the darkness you knew, but a golden light that seemed to come from everywhere. At first, you thought you were trapped in a dream, or perhaps death had taken you beyond, but the air, the softness of the current… no, it was not a dream.
The sight before you was like a mirage—an underwater palace, its columns and ceilings carved from iridescent coral, surrounded by floating gardens of plants you had never seen before, vibrant in color, moving as if they were alive. But what truly captured your attention was the figure approaching with impossible grace.
A mermaid.
Her tail was a golden gleam, reflecting the light from the ocean floor with a brilliance that dazzled, and every movement was a seamless dance, as if the water was her natural element, her home, her domain. The upper half of her body was slender and harmonious, her skin smooth as pearl, with a sun-kissed hue that seemed to glow with its own inner light, as if the ocean’s sun touched her eternally. She had the face of a goddess, a beauty so perfect that it made everything else around her seem dull. Her hair cascaded in soft waves down to the middle of her back, a golden tone that merged with the sea as if it were a reflection of the ocean itself.
Her gaze was intense, profound, and when her eyes met yours, you felt yourself drowning in them. They were a striking green, like the purest ocean water, and within them was a gleam that you could only describe as… ancient. She knew things you could never comprehend. She knew secrets the sea had kept for millennia.
The mermaid approached slowly, her movements as fluid as the waves. She observed you with a mix of curiosity and something more—something you couldn’t define.
“Well, what do we have here?” Her voice was like music, soft and enchanting, a melody that made your heart race, as if each word was woven with magic. “A lost sailor, come from the surface.”
Before you could respond, she smiled. The smile of a creature who knew her power and understood there was no escape. With a single movement of her hand, the water around you seemed to freeze, to halt, as if it obeyed her will.
“Why should I let you go when the sea has already claimed you?” Her voice was a whisper, and at the same time, a command. “What sense is there in resisting when everything here, in the depths, is more beautiful and more eternal than anything you’ve ever known on the surface?”
Her presence was overwhelming, her closeness making everything more intense. Your body trembled, not from fear, but from an irresistible fascination. You could feel her power in the water surrounding you, as if she were the sea itself, and you were just a small vessel about to be dragged by the current.
“Why not stay with me?” Her voice grew even softer, sweeter, as if she were whispering directly into your soul. “There’s so much I can show you… so much the sea has kept hidden for centuries. Everything you desire, everything you could ever become… I can give it to you. You only have to trust me.”
You felt trapped, but not in the way you had expected. There was something so intoxicating about her, about her presence, that it was difficult to think clearly. There was something dangerous in the way her words caressed your skin, something that drew you in, that seduced you, something that made you want to stay—even though you knew you couldn’t.
And then, her gaze turned more playful, a spark of mischief crossing her eyes.
“But it’s never that easy, is it?” she mused. “The surface calls to you, doesn’t it? Humans are always so stubborn. They think they can escape… but the sea always claims what is hers.”
You felt yourself lose balance, and before you could think of anything else, her golden tail moved with a speed you could barely follow, trapping you in a swirling vortex of water that surrounded you like a liquid prison. She was close—too close—her face now near enough that you could feel her breath, warm and damp.
“Come now, don’t resist…” she murmured, her voice a lullaby, a spell. “Let me show you the world I’ve kept just for you.”
Her words were more than an invitation; they were an enchantment, a promise that made you shiver, that overflowed your thoughts and your will.
You felt lost—but in a strange way, as if by losing yourself in her, you could finally find yourself.
But you knew that the surface, the life you had left behind, was still calling to you. Could you resist the beauty of the ocean, the seduction of Mel, the princess of the depths? Or would you become just another soul ensnared by her spell, trapped in her world, with no hope of return?
The question echoed in your mind, but you already knew that, no matter your decision, you would not be the same person when you emerged from the depths of her kingdom.
sevika as a gargoyle!
The forgotten city seemed like a whisper from another time, a relic that had survived the erosion of the centuries. Among its ruins stood an ancient temple, its stones carved with symbols that no one remembered anymore, its columns covered in moss, and its structure corroded by the passage of wind and rain. It was a place that people had stopped visiting long ago, yet here you were, as if fate had guided you to its heart. No one came to this site anymore, but in your search for ancient secrets, you had gone too far.
The air was heavy, dense, as if the city itself were guarding a secret, waiting to be discovered. You moved cautiously, the echoes of your steps resonating against the shadow-covered walls. The darkness inside the temple was complete, except for the faint light filtering through the cracks in the ceiling, creating dancing shadows on the gargoyle statues that adorned the columns. They were imposing figures, carved with an unsettling perfection, their wings spread and their faces fixed in an eternal watch.
You approached one of them, drawn by its magnetic presence. The sculpture was larger than the others, a female figure, her body carved with strong, angular lines, as if the sculpture itself were the manifestation of an ancient war. Her eyes, though empty and lifeless, seemed to watch you. On her face reflected a contained fury, and something in her gave you the feeling that she was not just a statue.
An irresistible impulse led you to come closer and extend your hand, touching the cold surface of the stone. The sensation of the texture under your fingers was rough, as if centuries of dust and time had accumulated on it. And it was at that moment when everything changed. A shiver ran through your body, a vibration of energy that seemed to come directly from the very bowels of the earth. Suddenly, a deep sound, a cracking like stone crumbling, made you recoil. The wings of the gargoyle, once rigid, fluttered slightly, and the temple resonated with a low, almost ancestral echo.
Before you could process it, the figure began to move. The gargoyle that had once been a statue woke up. Its form rose, and the tremor of the stone gave way to a body in motion, an imposing figure that looked at you with an intensity that made you feel minuscule in its presence. A growl, low and guttural, emanated from its throat, a mixture of contained anger and desperation.
And then, it saw how you had frozen in fear.
The gargoyle said nothing. It stepped forward with heavy steps, its stone claws scraping the floor as its golden eyes, as bright as fire, locked onto yours. Its figure was massive, almost indomitable, and while it still retained the form of the statue, it now moved with a dark grace that belied its weight. Every movement was filled with controlled violence, and the fury of its presence filled the air, crushing you mercilessly.
But when its eyes met yours, something changed. A glimmer of something more human shone in its gaze, a fraction of doubt, as if, in some forgotten corner of its soul, there still existed a spark of humanity.
"What have you done... human?" Its voice was deep, full of a resonance that seemed to come from the very depths of the earth, a voice so profound it made the ground tremble.
You tried to step back, but you had become trapped in a corner, with no way out. The gargoyle, or what had been a gargoyle, moved closer, its presence enveloping you. There was something hypnotic about the way it looked at you, something that told you that you were not the first to be ensnared by its gaze.
"You are nothing more than an intruder in a place you do not understand," it said, its voice softening slightly, as if evaluating you. "You have awakened something that should not have been awakened. Now, you belong to me."
Fear ran through you, but there was something else too. A strange fascination. Something in the way it moved, in the brutality it seemed to embody, awakened a primal response in you. And even though you told yourself you needed to escape, you couldn't stop watching the figure in front of you, its sculpted body, its latent power.
For a moment, you couldn’t say anything. Fear, though strong, faded away, and what remained was an unusual desire to understand it, to comprehend who this creature really was, trapped between two worlds. In its eyes was something more than fury, something more than hate. It seemed that beneath the rock, under the weight of the stone, a heart still beat.
"Who are you?" Finally, you managed to ask, your voice trembling, but determined. "Why are you here?"
The gargoyle stopped in front of you, looking at you for what seemed like an eternity. The hardness of its stone face softened, if only slightly. "I... was not always stone," it confessed, its voice now less harsh, but filled with palpable pain. "I was not always what you see now. A long time ago, I was human like you."
Its words surprised you, and in that moment, something inside you changed. The idea of the gargoyle as a mere statue, an impassive being, began to crumble. Maybe there was something deeper inside her, something more than a prisoner of stone.
"Why have they turned you into this?" you asked, taking a step toward her, intrigue replacing your fear.
Silence.
"Because time does not forgive," she said finally, her tone much softer, almost sad. "And the price for protecting these temples... is much more than you can imagine."
Your heart beat faster as you looked at the gargoyle, not as a threat, but as a living tragedy. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to break the curse that kept her trapped in her stone form.
And as she watched you, the fate of both seemed to hang by a thread as fragile as the touch of your hands on the cold stone.
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