#// may be why the law comes so easy for her

[wise-innocence]

Hmmm... Yanfei doesn't really tell people that she likes them just kind of stares longingly and hope the message gets across. Smartest girl around but has the emotional intelligence of a slice of bread.

[guiltyasdave]

no one has to know what we do

chapter 2 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: Try as you might, Dave and you can’t stay away from each other.

word count: 4.4k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (don’t look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldn’t write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so you’re stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that i’ve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do 🤍

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. It’s late — you should be sleeping, but you know it’s useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. It’s too loud in your head right now — that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you can’t help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.

It’s probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, who’s none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.

Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, David’s contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know you’re thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your father’s face flashes behind your eyes — rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.

It’s difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. He’d probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend — and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your family’s pure reputation — more than enough for him to disown you.

You hate him sometimes. Hate the life he’s forced onto you. You’re not even interested in studying law — not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps. And as long as he’s funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.

But David — David is refreshing.

He doesn’t come from old money. He doesn’t pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. You’re pretty sure he’s the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in… god knows how long.

You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. He’d made you feel something. You’d almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.

He’s not expecting you to reach out.

Why would you? You’d mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing — just a hookup; something he would’ve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except you’ve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.

Because all he can think about is seeing you again.

It’s wrong — beyond wrong. You’re so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but he’d been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters she’d sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.

Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe that’s why you’re so sweet.

He’s never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driver’s seat of his car — you are nothing short of intoxicating.

Still, he tells himself you’re off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.

And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.

He only knows it’s you because you tell him so — your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say you’re out with friends, and he’d probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.

Seconds after the first, another text comes through:

[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i won’t twll anyone

Fuck. Fuck.

His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.

He hasn’t even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.

The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.

His head swims. He presses ‘answer’ anyway.

“David?” Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.

He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, “can I please come over?”

“Don't think that's the best idea,” he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.

Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.

“Please,” you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. “I just got off the phone with my dad…he doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and I’ll be a nuisance.”

His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.

“C-can I?” your voice sounds through the speaker again — softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.

“Can't– can’t you stay with one of your friends?”

You sigh, defeated. “I want to stay with you.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he can’t; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.

“You– we can’t.” He’s stern, direct. It pains him. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.” True, though he doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.

You’re quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.

“You don’t like me?”

He’s going to tell you that of course that’s not it, that he’s been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesn’t get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and you’re telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.

The call disconnects with a beep.

You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.

His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.

“Hi,” you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.

“Not very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.”

Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.

“Well then they probably won't be my future employer,” you snip.

“Probably not.”

You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.

When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, you’re met with a notification that sends your heart racing.

Have fun last night?

From David, sent five minutes ago.

You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.

Now that you’re thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, there’s his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.

Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.

i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you

His reply comes almost instantly.

Who said you bothered me?

You’ve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.

Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.

It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.

When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesn’t have to wait for him.

You still haven’t left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And he’s so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.

He’s patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your father’s gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.

Come join me for coffee? I’m downtown at Roasted Beans.

You respond moments later — such an obedient little thing, you are — letting him know you’ll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.

He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. You’re wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.

You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.

You shouldn’t meet him again. You really, really shouldn’t. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.

You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.

After last night and the fact that he obviously didn’t invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.

But then he’d texted you again, asking you to meet him. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.

On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what you’re going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. There’s too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. You’re just going to meet him because he asked you to, because that’s the nice thing to do. It’ll just be coffee, nothing more.

Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.

He has already ordered for you. It’s a small thing, rationally, but it’s once again more care, more attention than you’re used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that you’ve prepared to say.

“Listen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry for bothering–”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. “I already told you that you didn’t bother me. If anything–” He sighs, his grip tightening. “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldn’t have turned you down like that.”

It breaks Dave’s heart, seeing how you’re making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You don’t like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didn’t care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didn’t come home. Didn’t bother him.

He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that he’s not annoyed with you. You’re so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.

He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and it’s only gotten worse, now that you’re right next to him, now that he’s touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.

The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be touching you like this, shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Can’t stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?

“David?” Fuck, he loves that you call him that. “Will you take me home with you? Please?”

He can tell that you’re scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. He’s not nearly as strong as you think he is.

“Yes. Come on.”

He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.

He’s a bad man, shouldn’t be getting off on having total control over you like this. He’s probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way you’re looking at him — with the same big-eyed, doleful stare you’d given him that first night — tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.

So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, it’s clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.

You’re spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. He’s led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that he’s determined not to cross.

He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.

He’s taking it slow, now that you’re here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.

You’re already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him — a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat — and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.

“Please,” you whisper then, and he tuts.

“You want me to take care of you?”

You nod.

“Then you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?”

Another noise — this one smaller, stuck in your throat — and he’s pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.

He doesn’t give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You can’t help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesn’t notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.

“Oh, such a good girl you are,” he praises.

Slap.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you moan, garbled and a little breathless.

Slap.

“Pathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, you’re so desperate. Couldn’t you?”

You gasp.

Slap.

“Answer me,” Dave demands. “Or I’ll stop.”

It’s almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And he’s almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt he’d been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.

He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.

He’s throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far you’ll go for him.

You’re dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as you’re silently pleading with him.

No words are escaping you, and you’re so good, making him so proud with how you’re following his commands.

He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until you’re a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and you’re shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.

He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That you’re just as twisted as he is.

When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.

“Good girl,” he coos, gently stroking your hair, “you did so good.”

He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where you’re still so fucking wet.

You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. “Please,” you whisper.

One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but there’s only pure trust and longing in your eyes.

“I thought I told you no begging.”

You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. “I’m sorry. It just– it all feels so good.”

He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.

“I know it does, sweetheart. You need more?”

You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.

“Alright then.” He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. You’re on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.

He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he can’t possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.

It’s even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.

He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesn’t have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.

Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.

“Come on,” he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Give me another one.”

You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.

He can’t hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.

You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.

Slowly, as he’s coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.

He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.

“Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”

He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didn’t know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.

You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.

“Did– did you see my underwear?” you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.

Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.

The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump that’s building in your throat.

When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You don’t know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You don’t want to find out.

It’s late in the evening, you’re lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.

He asked you to meet up, for fuck’s sake. You don’t understand why he’s treating you like this, but you’re determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.

Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.

[11:55pm] I can’t stop thinking about you either.

Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.

It’s filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.

Maybe just one more time.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

[pureconciousnesss]

Some things I’ve Manifested Recently…

Ideal body, lost weight, cheekbones got more prominent, still ate the same stuff, didn’t work out just manifested because I wanted it to LMAO

Event prevention: I’ve pushed back the starting time of my school, doctors appointment were cancelled numerous times as I wanted, and there’s a lot more I just don’t care to remember

Money, went back to school shopping with my mother, (she is usually dead broke and has no money to spend because she spends it all else where) and she had $2k for me to spend (!?!?) and had an extra 3k in her bank account

Little small things that come fast, people coming home at certain times, TikTok fyp, this one may sound silly but literally shooting things into the trash behind me (weird I know but it’s fun), not knowing how to use chopsticks AT ALL not a single clue and have always failed at it and then suddenly picking up a pair and eat with them like I’ve used them my entire life

Reality shifting: One of the best ones in my opinion, living my other lives is pretty fun I will say, simply just persisted and kept doing that for a couple days, like 3 MAX, and just went to bed one night, doing my normal stuff, and woke up in my YOUTUBER reality. Quite simple. As intended.

The gender of my mother’s baby: Had no idea what the gender would be, kept saying it would be a girl when she was around 6 weeks. What do you know, it’s a girl. It’s just that easy.

OF COURSE, this only barely scratches the surface, not even kidding, of my manifestation list. Technically, you are manifesting constantly, I just choose to become aware, and do what I want. As should you. If you doubt in the law of the universe, you are making things even harder for yourself. Just override the thoughts of doubt and negativity with the things you prefer, because as Bashar says, why put 100% trust in something you don’t prefer, when you can just put 100% trust in something you DO prefer? Stop making life difficult for yourself. Ride the way of non resistance, you are LIMITLESS I tell you, so just do what you want. Make your own rules.

[xxchaosjojoxx]

Hi :)

I have always loved law since his first appearance in the anime.

May I ask for a law x Reader but reader is an absolute GREAT at lying. Like they lie all the time and no one would know it was a lie due to specific things that aren't exactly related to the lie but was somehow a "proof" that it was believable. It even fooled Law himself.

Reader is always so happy, like always smiling and cheerful and everything. But with a really constructed lie, a smile isn't always real.

You get what I mean?

Most lies I was talking about was:

"I ate dinner" for example.

Reader didn't actually eat but can be proven to because 1, reader could have planned to "eat" later due to "work" when in reality, they just planned to go inside the lunch room for a few moments and made sure someone saw so they'd have an alibi.

So basically, it's based on alibis and statements that make said lie true.

A/N: Thanks so much for your request. I had an idea in my mind and suddenly it went dark/angst. I hope it is still to your liking and I’m not sure if I should do a second part to add some fluff like I had originally planned.

Lies

You were the sunshine on and inside the Polar Tang. With your bright smile, you could earn a lot of happy smiles and joyful words whenever you enter a room. No one would ever think that this was a facade. That all of this would be a lie. Even your captain would call anyone crazy who would think not of a bunch of sunshine whenever you are around.

Your skills as a thief back in the day are kinda handsy. You are quick and precise when it comes to battle. With your radiant presence and this bright smile paired with those big soft eyes it was easy to gain a lot of free supplies and goodies, whenever your duty was to go shopping. You joined the Heart pirates after stealing some things from Penguin and Shachi nearly 4 months ago. Sadly you couldn’t escape the blue orb nor the teleportation as this man, now your captain, Trafalgar Law was grabbing you with a smirk on his face. You had skill, this might come in handy for sure. That was his reason to let you join his crew. The fact that you would probably lose your head was not an option back there. He was intimidating but handsome. You would be a fool to not follow an attractive man.

The life you had back there was a life you wished to erase forever.

As a foster kid some adults used you for stealing. Kids are small, they can hide better, right?

Over the years you could perfect your stealing skills and one more skill. To lie. Whenever you trembled, whenever you where crying or doing not exactly what they told you, they would hurt you, torture you. You had to learn to lie, because you needed to survive. You had to lie to yourself, that all of this wouldn’t be your whole life. That you would find something better for sure someday. Then you met the heart pirates, they all welcomed you like a family. And even though you showed them your brightest smile, your happiest face, the loudest laugh, you were still aware of them. This is not real. They will use you when they get a chance. Don’t trust them. All of this was repeating in your head every now and then. No one knew what you were hiding because no one suspected anything.

The first time Law suspected something was not too long ago. He worked a lot today and went to the kitchen, to get a snack as he passed you. “You ok, y/n-ya? You look pale? Did you eat anything?”

You were looking at him, giving him a bright smile. “Hey Captain. Of course. I ate dinner already. I just ate too much, maybe that’s why.”

He looked at you with a stern look. “Ok don’t overwork yourself.”

“Aye aye Captain.” and with that you left him. Only after he entered the kitchen and saw the dish, he knew something was off.

Law saw Shachi and Penguin sitting at the table, talking and laughing. “Was Y/N in here?”

They looked at him. “Yeah, she just left with a plate in her hand. She has too much work to do, so she wanted to eat in her room.” The red haired said and Law tilted his head in confusion. “I just saw her, and she didn’t even have a plate in her hand.”

Bepo entered the kitchen from behind. “Oh she gave me the plate earlier. Said I should eat it. She had too much earlier and put way more on the plate for her to finish.”

“I see.” With this Law grabbed a snack and returned to his office with a bad feeling.

He was reading some paperwork as he took a bite from his snack. His mind was wandering back to you. It felt off. Did you really have dinner? The fact that you filled your plate with food and the fact why you didn’t have it when he met you earlier, it all was reasonable. But something was still weird. Would you lie to him? You had no reason for it. But remembering the food, he knew that Shachi was in charge of cooking today and he also knew that Shachi used some spices especially one you didn’t even like. There was no way you wouldn’t notice it and there was also no way that you would eat it to the point you would grab another plate. He hid his face in his hands and was remembering every situation with you in it since you joined. There was never an occasion that he would feel like this. Without even realizing he went towards the storage room, knowing you were on duty today, to write down what else you would need when you dock on the next island.

You stand there with a pencil and a little book in your hands, taking notes. As you felt his presence you turned around to see your captain and smiled at him. “Hey Captain. Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, can you give me your hand for a second please? I need to confirm something.”

With a confused look you reached your right hand towards him, his warm hands were cupping your own and you could feel a light blush on your face.

“What exactly do you confirm?” You gulped and were looking at him.

“I thought I saw something earlier.” He had not enough time to think of anything clever.

“Do you feel better now? You know because of your second plate of food today.”

He had to concentrate on your heartbeat, on your pulse.

You were looking at him even more confused. “Yes, thank you.”

He squeezed your hand a little tighter. If people lie, their heartbeat, pulse and the breath would give them away, but everything was normal. Not even a slight change. But he knew that you didn’t have another plate. You gave it to Bepo. “Didn’t you give it to Bepo?”

He was staring at you. You felt a little shiver as he was staring at you with this cold look.

"Yeah, I did. I thought I could eat more, but then I felt sick so I gave it to Bepo instead.” Again you were smiling. You didn’t even have to think long enough or even stutter. Your answer was way too perfect. Even if you were telling him the truth, you wouldn’t answer as fast as possible.

“Did you ever lie to us?”

You shook your head and your eyes were wide. “What? No, why should I?”

“Tell me the truth.”

“I do. I never lied to you or anyone else on this ship.”

You were looking at him in determination and in this moment knew, he wouldn’t get the answer out of you.

He knew something was off but he couldn’t prove it. Just his gut feeling wouldn’t be enough.

He let go of your hand. “I’m sorry. I'll let you finish your work.” Law was about to leave the room as he turned his head towards you.

“You can trust us, you know? I know that your past was hard, but you are safe now. If you wanna talk with anyone about anything, do it please.”

Law could see a small nod coming from you. “Of course I do, captain. I already trust you. Thanks for checking on me.” You showed him a big grin and Law couldn’t help but feel this bad feeling inside him to blossom. Now that he felt off he couldn’t help but wonder, if those smiles of yours and your shining personalities are fake. What about you is real? What is a lie? He was determined to find the truth from this day on.

[benjimatorarts]

I love your art! Your au is really interesting to me, can you perhaps tell me more about it? :)

Thank you! There are a lot of things I want to say but the 50s AU but some things I think are better explained with illustrations coming your way. I can share a few notes.

Alastor's and Vaughn's (Vox) friendship lasted for years before they broke up. I'm thinking 1954-early 1960s. They had a couple of years of radio silence between the two of them before they talked to each other again.

Alastor radio show is hosted by a local New Orleans station but that will both fortunately and unfortunately change.

Alastor’s killing sprees go up and down activity over the years. The 20-30s were his most active. Lots of reason why they’ve slowed down. (One of the reasons, that he won’t admit, is because of his body pains and stiffness related to aging, serving both wars, and killing people for years are not easy on the body.)

Vaughn has real estate in both CA, Hollywood, and NY, New York City. Oh right, and now in LA, New Orleans.

Vaughn is in a weird place where he’s moving towards television than film as there’s been a decline in the box offices post WW2.

Marian (still working on her full name), wears a lot of different hats in the film production scene in Hollywood. She has experiences with editing, production management, and screenwriting. She’d married Vaughn early 1940s, definitely before WW2 ended so Vaughn could get out of getting drafted to the war. She’s more focus in film than television but she’ll step in as production manager in Vaughn’s projects if he needs the extra help.

(And yes, she does know about Vaughn’s attraction to men and definitely knows about his feelings towards Alastor. Maybe more aware than he does.)

Morningstar family are consider royalty in the entertainment history with a heavy background law and business from Lucifer’s (his name might change for this AU) side of the family. But Lilith is the true lawyer of Charlie’s immediate family. And handles most of the businesses under the Morningstar’s name. Consider them kinda like the Kardashians in this AU.

Thanks for @random-emerald-thoughts for giving a lot of inspiration and ideas for this AU! I will explore these notes more with visuals and they may change! So nothing is concrete. Thank you again for the asks!

[queenofspades6]

Not an investment - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary: You try to forget Kaz with a man from the Crow Club. Kaz isn’t pleased at all. He finds a way to get rid of the guy, but you caught him. Kaz finally touches you for the first time.

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Jealous Kaz.

A/N: I first wrote a draft of this when the first season of Shadow & Bone launched, i finally finished it, and wanted to share! I am so obsessed with Kaz! I might meet Freddy Carter on May, can’t wait but I am so scared at the same time!

———

You and the Crows had just accomplished another successful mission, earning each of you considerable money. The Crows had decided to throw a party to celebrate. Even Kaz had agreed to come. When Jesper asked him to join them, Kaz nodded, and Jesper cheered loudly, earning Kaz a grin.

Kaz Brekker had spent the last hour sitting with his arm on the bar, sipping a drink, and keeping an eye on the improvised dance floor. When the party began, Nina was already dancing, earning curious glances from both women and men. Jesper joined her after getting a few drinks. He tried to convince Inej to go dancing with him and Nina.

”You don’t want to go with them?“ You asked Inej, frowning.

”I do, but don’t tell them. Let them try to convince me.”

You nodded and asked the bartender for a strong drink. ”Make it two,” Inej said.

You watched her before glancing at the bartender.

”Tough night?” Inej asked.

You nodded again.

Inej didn’t bother to pry much; she knew each of you had your past. She knew how it felt to live with it, to live with the memories still there, haunting at night and even during the day... She knew better than to ask you about it.

The bartender arrived with both of your drinks. You thanked him and looked at Kaz, who was sitting at the other end of the bar, staring at people dancing and drinking in the Crow Club.

A man approached you. You didn’t see him coming; you were too caught up in stealing glances at Dirtyhands. The man took the seat next to you, and with a charming smile, he said:

“I didn’t take the infamous Ghost of Ketterdam for a drinker.”

You turned toward him, with a serious and almost warning look.

After all, you were the Ghost. If someone had a job to do, you were here. Looking for someone who disappeared? Easy. Stealing? As if you were a beginner. Taking revenge? Already done. Killing? Done. The Ghost was a shadow in Ketterdam. The kind of story that makes kids stay up all night. Rumors were you had no law, no faith and no humanity left. Oh, how wrong were they. If only they knew...

“What if I am?” You replied to the man.

”Even better.”

You grinned at him and decided to play the game.

“What about I offer you a drink?” He questioned, glancing at your body.

“I already have one, but go on.”

The man asked for another round of drinks, and the bartender complied.

”I didn’t think the Ghost was a beautiful woman like you.” He started, his eyes looking at his next prey.

Before, you would have punched that man hard in the face, but tonight, you didn’t care. You just wanted to have fun, and maybe it could involve him.

“Oh yeah? “

”Yes. Do you know how much people would pay to have you in their bed?”

You laughed and crossed eyes with Kaz. He was staring at you curiously. You thought it was a coincidence, but Kaz had been watching the whole time.

“I know.”

”Quite modest, I see.”

“I can be and do many things, you know?” You flirted, your head already spinning.

A little flirt was harmless, right? It wasn’t like it would change something. You stole another glance at Kaz, still sipping his drink in deadly silence. You knew there had always been something unspoken between the two of you, which you both probably wanted, but that was just impossible. Something that couldn’t be. So why not have fun with this silly man, you thought?

”I can only imagine.“ The man replied, his right hand stroking yours on the counter and his other hand on your knee.

”Let’s dance first.“

The man took your hand and complied, bringing you to the dance floor. The man danced with you, sometimes brushing your body. You didn’t care. Alcohol gave you confidence and relief. You danced closer to the man. And even closer. You both moved simultaneously, feeling the loud music and the alcohol in your veins. You could already feel the man’s arousal. But you didn’t care. You were trying to forget. Forget him and his stupid blue eyes. His silly cane. His silly waistcoats. Him. You just wanted to forget.

What you didn’t know was that Kaz Brekker couldn’t look away. His eyes were glued to your form and this man. This Dreg. Oh, Kaz hated the man at this moment. His hand tightened around his cane.

The man touched you even more intimately, placing his hand on your thigh. Kaz was watching it all; his hand clenched in a fist. He couldn’t bear it anymore. He knew you had a few drinks and hated the idea of the man taking advantage of you. Or worse... Maybe you let him...

Dirtyhands whispered something to the bartender, and then a servant rushed anxiously towards you.

The servant asked for ‘Jake’ something and then told him that someone was waiting outside for him.

He nodded.

“Sweetheart, I need to take care of something, and then I am coming back for you. We’ll finish what we started.”He said, a smirk forming on his lips.

You consented, not understanding what was happening.

The man walked toward the backdoor leading to the streets. You took a deep breath and went back towards your seat. You finished your drink quickly and began to think.

‘What was I doing? Seriously? This man? I am the Ghost, for Saint’s sake, I deserve better.’

Feeling shameful, you wanted some fresh air to think clearly. Or maybe you just needed to flee. You rushed toward the door of the Crow Club and opened it.

There was ‘Jake’, his face bloody and bruised, held by the arms of two men taller than him.

What was going on?

That’s when you saw Kaz punching Jake in the face. The man spit blood, and Dirtyhands held his head in his gloved hand.

”If you dare touch her again, you are dead.”

Kaz was going to hit Jake with his cane, but your screaming interrupted him.

”What’s going on?“

Kaz nodded, and his men let Jake go. He didn’t think twice. Without looking at you once, the man flew in as he had arrived.

The men stared at Dirtyhands, waiting for his approval to leave. Kaz gestured, and they left.

”What’s going on? I won’t ask it again.“

“This stupid... man touched you.” He declared calmly, removing the blood from his sleeve.

”Yes, and?”

“He didn’t ask.”

”Because I let him. Do you genuinely think he would have touched me if I hadn’t allowed it? You know what I do and who I am.” You murmured.

Kaz’s blue eyes were avoiding your gaze, looking at the street and holding tightly onto his cane. He frowned.

”Why?“He questioned.

“Why? You dare ask why? You know damn well, Brekker.“

”Enlighten me with what I am supposed to know ‘damn well’.

He clenched his teeth, and you approached him dangerously. You plunged your eyes into his, almost begging him not to let you speak.

”I needed a distraction.”

“A distraction?” He questioned, wonder in his eyes.

“But we succeeded in the mission. We won thousands of kruge, Y/N.”

”I know.”

”Is it not enough for you? What do you need more? What do you need more than what thousands of Kruge can offer you?”

You repressed your tears. You were the Ghost after all, you couldn’t cry even if you wanted to.

“Thousands of Kruge can’t buy me you.” You whispered, hoping he wouldn’t hear.

“Me?”

“Your name is Kaz Brekker, no? Or should I say Dirtyhands?“

A small smile escaped his lips, quickly replaced by sadness. He was staring at his gloved hands. What was he supposed to do? Tell you he felt the same, and offer you what exactly? He couldn’t even touch you.

“I was trying to forget you with this man, to forget the times you looked at me like I was an investment, when I came back from a mission hurt badly and you just said ‘good job’.

“What do I have that you might want?” He asked, his voice almost trembling.

Memories of Jordie flooded his mind. The times when they were happy, or at least tried to because they were together.

You didn’t reply, just watched him, the man you love.

“I can’t offer you anything, Y/N.” Kaz declared, approaching you with the most sincere look you’ve ever seen him with.

”I can’t offer you a crown, a throne, or even a palace. I can’t provide you the most precious jewels in the world. I can’t make you my queen, Y/N.”

”How romantic.” You finally spoke, crossing your arms.

”At least I have the decency not to lie to you.” He replied.

”I think I would have preferred you to lie.” You declared, trying to repress your tears again.

”What did you want me to say? That I would make you a Queen even though we live in Ketterdam, and would cover you with the most expensive jewels when we loot every day to survive? You would have wanted me to tell you that I cannot live without you, although touching you is unbearable to me? You would have liked me to tell you that I love you, right Y/N?

Eyes misted with tears, Y/N dared to meet his gaze. When Kaz saw that Y/N’s eyes were shining, he realized the magnitude of his words. He had always thought that by being cruel, he could push people away, keep them away, to avoid doing harm and, above all, be hurt. Things had gone wrong the last time he had loved someone, so how could he really trust his heart anymore?

Jordie.

His name echoed in his head when he looked at Y/N. He wanted to apologize, hug her, and kiss her lips, but he couldn’t.

He tried to take a step towards her to try to comfort her, but when his hand approached her bare arm, he resigned himself to it. He was shaking. Touching someone seemed impossible so how could he ask Y/N to stay? What could he offer her? A life of hidden gazes, impossible caresses, abstinence... Y/N deserved better. She could have had better. Nikolai Lantsov had always wanted her. All she had to do was say yes, and she would become the first Grisha Queen. Kaz had to admit Y/N would make an exquisite Queen. She was fair, and she only hurt when necessary. Y/N deserved a better life than a life in danger in Ketterdam. And if Pekka Rollins learned that Dirtyhands cared about her, he would seek to get rid of her by any means possible.

Y/N gazed at Kaz one last time before turning to the door. She was about to grab the handle when she felt pressure on her arm. Kaz was touching her.

“Don’t leave, Y/N.” You rolled your eyes.

“Is it a command, Boss? You asked, annoyed.

“It’s not.”

You observed Kaz’s face. For someone who didn’t know him, Kaz was emotionless. But at that moment, you knew he was vulnerable. His features were different. He seemed fragile. The bastard of the barrel seemed weak! You laughed in your head.

“Stay, please.” He begged you, the silence in his head unbearable.

You made a small move to get out of his grip. His hand fell against his body. And suddenly, he grabbed your hand. You stared at your hand in his gloved ones. Seeing your reluctance, he pulled his hand away and took off his gloves. Trying to calm his trembling, he reached for your delicate hand. His fingers brushed your skin, knuckles, and wrist, sending shivers down your whole body. Kaz was trying to memorize your hand, the veins in your wrists, your knuckles, to make it familiar, so that he wouldn’t be scared anymore.

“Can I?” He asked you.

You nodded, astonished to see Kaz Brekker asking for permission. He wasn’t one to ask. He always took and took. Never saying please. Never asking for permission. And here he was. All vulnerable in front of you.

He took your hand in his with hesitation and still trembling. Dirtyhands was trying his best to hide his fear in front of you. He was the bastard of the barrel. Everybody feared him, and yet he could not take your bare hand in his. He felt pathetic. He stared at your intertwined fingers for some time.

“What more can I offer you than what you already have?”

Your attention, your time, your love, your skin (maybe not), everything, you wanted to scream but you couldn’t. He was Kaz Krekker after all.

“I can’t make you happy, Y/N. You should go with Nikolai, he’ll know what to do. I can’t even kiss you, Y/N. I can’t, it’s pure torture. I can’t.”

One tear was slowly running across your cheek.

“I don’t want wealth or power. I don’t care about Saints.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Your love.“ You spitted.

Your hands were still intertwined, and that’s when Kaz noticed that while you were talking, he forgot about your hand in his, and for once, it had not disturbed him. It was brief, but he had felt your skin against his, the feeling of coldness and an almost delicate hand. He was staring at your hands with intensity, not knowing where his began and yours finished. The contact with your skin burned him, it was like caressing fire, feeling the unbearable heat against his fingers, against his palm, and yet he didn’t want to remove his hand from your painful skin.

“Kaz, look at me.”

You knew he was fighting his own demons, and it was not easy to hold your hand, and much less for a few minutes.

“Focus on my voice.”

He complied, and you dared take his hand and bring it to your face.

“I am here for you. Since the beginning, I have been here. Since the first day we looked at each other in this street, I knew everything would be different.”

While talking, you held his index finger in your tiny fingers compared to his. It was reaching dangerously for your cheek.

“Do you remember, Brekker, the first day we met?”

Kaz was trying his best to focus on your eyes, lips, on everything other than his fear to feel. It was finally this fear of hurting that made every touch burn. And you knew, you understood.

“I was pulling a dagger from my bleeding shoulder, sitting alone on the street, when you came. And do you remember what you said to me?”

You finally put his index finger delicately on your cheek. Step by step. You knew it would take time. Months and years, probably. But you were never a quitter after all.

Kaz chuckled, remembering this particular day when he thought that the Ghost everybody was scared of was just a little girl. Today, he knew he was wrong.

“You first said to me “Work for me, Ghost, and you’ll never have to pull out any dagger of your shoulders.”

Dirtyhands grinned, and with his index finger on your cheek, he explored your skin, still burning him. You removed your hand and laughed.

“You know, the day I met you, I knew you wanted me to work for you because I was taking all your contracts.”

He laughed again, and a second finger was caressing your cheek.

“I couldn’t let you take all the money.” Kaz replied, with this smirk you loved.”And you said ‘yes’ if I recall.”

“That I did. Though I did pull out many other daggers from my shoulder.” You spoke softly.

Another laugh, and he put a third finger on your face, stroking and trying to control his trembling. Still, he never dared remove his gaze from you.

“I know. I was planning a meeting with you for weeks, trying to find something to make you work for me. But you had no weakness, no secret that I knew of. I didn’t know what you were looking for.”

The tips of his three fingers were still on your skin, learning every wrinkle you would have, every scar, everything, even if it burned.

“That’s what made me so good, back then I had nothing to look for and nothing to lose.”

“And now?”

“Now, I have a goal, something to fight for, that’s what makes me fearsome.” You muttered and smiled at your words because you meant them.

Kaz smirked. He knew there were two kinds of people to fear: those who had nothing left to lose, and the ones who had everything to lose.

With sudden confidence, Kaz reached with one finger for your lips, trying to touch, and caress them. His trembling finger found your lip, he felt it, his deep blue eyes on yours. You were watching him with pride.

Maybe too greedy, Kaz wanted to feel your face with his hand, he tried to place all his fingers against your skin, but the burning was too powerful. Suddenly, he removed his hand, shivering.

“I-I am sorry.”He said, his armor falling back in place.

He saw Jordie’s face again. And he felt the skin of other corpses on his. It was warm. Too warm. It was burning him up. He was screaming, and nobody came.

“Kaz. Kaz! Look at me.”

He heard your voice calling in this ocean of corpses.

You didn’t touch him, but called his name.

“Kaz. You are with me. You are not there. Not anymore. Breathe. You are safe.”

He finally saw your eyes and where he was. In the middle of the street with you. He got up, dusted off his coat, and stared at you.

“Sorry, Y/N.”

He put back on his gloves and resumed leaning on his cane.

He was not only Kaz Brekker at this moment, but also Dirtyhands, and the bastard of the barrel. You smiled and glanced at his form as it left the room.

“The answer is this.”

The Bastard of the barrel turned to you and looked at your face, eyes full of silent interrogation.

“This is what I want, Kaz Brekker, and this is what you can offer me.”

You swore you could see a smirk escaping his lips. And this was the moment you knew you were not just an investment for Kaz Brekker.

———

If you loved this story, don’t forget to like, reblog and comment! I’d love to write more Kaz x reader with the OC “The Ghost” if there is enough interest, I’ll write more for Kaz!

[ravenscosmos]

— ROBOTIC AFFIRMATIONS ★ .

Even tho there are a couple of amazing posts already on this platform revolving ROBOTIC AFFIRMATIONS , somehow people are still confused and wondering what they are or what to do with them … and I got in the last couple of days some asks where people wanted some advice , so I thought I make one post about it and try to cover as much as possible :3

(English isn’t my first language , so I apologise in advance if there any grammar mistakes 😭🤌)

(Thank you sm for 127 follower<333)

— WHAT ARE ROBOTIC AFFIRMATIONS ? ★ .

Pretty simple : they‘re regular affirmations ( or askfirmations if you‘d like ) such as „I am pretty“, „I can shift whenever I want“,… but you just repeat them over and over without paying much attention to them or try to feel it ! Aka : affirming without feeling / like a ROBOT .

— WHY SHOULD I ROBOTIC AFFIRM ? ★ .

You really don’t have to robotic affirm if you don’t want to ! But there are many benefits and reasons as to why people are using them to manifest their dream life , their shifts ,…

some of them are :

Robotic affirmations help you to saturate your mind pretty easy , WITHOUT much work & thought !

There are no rules when it comes to affirming !(there aren’t any rules in general, when it comes to manifesting btw) You can completely decide how long and how many affirmations you want to use !

Once your affirmations become dominant , they‘ll manifest !

You can easily combine robotic affirmations with other manifestation techniques ( example : list method )

You can easily do it while you‘re watching something, scrolling through your phone, take a shower, brush your teeth , eat ,… and so on !

And — (I think) it helps to concentrate on your goals more and actually makes you feel your progress/ shift in your mindset

— HOW TO USE THEM ? ★ .

Easy! Pick your affirmations YOU want to use for your manifestation. Doesn’t matter how many or for what cause ! ( most people use 1-2 ! ) Now you can decide how you want to do it , there are (again) endless variations and you don’t have to use my examples !!! It’s just an idea , to help you get started :3

Whenever you think of your manifestation —(your dr, the void , …) you can affirm a couple of times

'Power affirming' — you can set a timer for 10 mins and just repeat your affirmations as much as possible

3x (times) 15 minutes ! — you can affirm every morning , noon and night before you fall asleep loop your affirmations in your head (you can also of course do 3x 10 minutes or 3x 20 minutes etc ! You‘re not bound to any limit)

Affirming throughout your day ! — ( and yeah it’s totally okay to take breaks !!! And it’s also okay if your mind wanders 😭🤌 )

Affirmations tapes ! — There are a couple of YouTube you could use [ @cosmicdream222 I personally like hers <3 ] ! Or make your own :3

Create your own method ! — <3

— SUMMARIZED ! ★ .

think about what you want / want to work on ( mindset , void state , shifting , .. )

pick your affirmations

choose which way you prefer

stick and persist into your new statements and affirm <3

getting what you want !

★ SIDE NOTE . . ! !

— with that , I won’t reply to questions in my dms and asks such as "is it better if I affirm for x/y minutes" and "how long do you think will it take me to manifest x/y?" <etc> ! I ( and every other person , no matter on which platform you‘re on😭 ) can‘t tell YOU how long it takes exactly. How could we ? We‘re not you ! You‘re in control how long it‘ll take .. if you keep telling yourself it will take years , then it mostlikely will turn out to be true .. there’s a reason it‘s called LAW OF ASSUMPTION ! please don‘t beat yourself up and take deep breaths 🩷 it‘ll be alright , even if it may not seem to be the case !

[howyouloveyourdragon]

What about alpha!rhaenyra x omega!reader x alpha!daemon, where reader is Rhaenyra’s soft shy younger sister? Maybe Viserys hasn’t given them approval to marry her, so they sneak her out of the red keep and secretly wed in a traditional valyrian ceremony on Dragonstone? They would IMMEDIATELY begin breeding reader so nobody can take her away from them

thank you for your request! i like how you're thinking anon

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴇʀᴄɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏᴜʀ, ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ, ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴋɪɴᴋꜱ: ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ, ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ ('*' is where the nsfw comes in)

𝕴 𝖍𝖔𝖕𝖊 𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖆𝖑𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖖𝖚𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌, 𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕽𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖞𝖗𝖆'𝖘 𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖙𝖍 𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖆𝖑 <3

"𝐍𝐎, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓 marry her!" Viserys exclaimed. Rhaenyra's jaw clenched but Daemon scoffed beside her. "And why not?" She yelled back. Daemon sneered at the King, his lips twitching. "She is still young." Viserys offered weakly to which Daemon rolled his eyes. "You tried to marry Rhaenyra off before her ten and seventh namesday, Y/n is certainly old enough!" Viserys seethed at him and stood with a finger raised threateningly. "Y/n is also a second child, a second daughter no less and until we are in need of allies she is of no concern. She may whom she chooses when I deem her old enough." "My sister is not one to be used! There is no better safety than to have her between two alpha Targaryens! We are stronger than any other." Rhaenyra shouted. The castle bellowed with anger as though taking a life-force of its own, to whom it agreed with would be commented among scattering servants. "If you plan to wed her to some highborn cunt, test us but he will not leave with our bride." "You cannot possibly believe me to allow a wedding between all three of you, I forbid it!"

"Then try!" Rhaenyra snapped back vehemently. She turned with her long hair whipping as harsh as a sentence while Daemon took a powerful stance of his own as he too left his brother to wallow. Viserys clenched his jaw and rubbed his hand over his face in frustration. "Escort them and under no circumstances are they to leave you sight besides their chambers." He commanded, causing guards to start tripping over themselves to abide their King. For the first time in years he was not the quiet man they had grown accustomed to and it was enough to repel any desire to be around the more unruly Targaryens. Rhaenyra and Daemon were the first alpha born children in the Targaryen line since Maegor the Cruel and his parents Aegon and Visenya, the origins of their Iron claim...and though there had been before them, there was no telling what would be possible if both longed to steal his omega child even rarer than they. Leaving the Keep was easy, the hard part was convincing their sweet bride to abide by them. Loyalty was not something easily lost but Rhaenyra had prepared for this since the both of you were young, it was not often that women could marry with or without their status. However Viserys had always been very cautious with you, keeping you sheltered inside due to the young lure of an omega. It was far too easy for someone to steal you away with your kind nature if he let you out unless he ensured you were encircled with guards at all times but that was not a prime solution. Rhaenyra was sure you had never seen the outside even when mother was alive. She thought of this as she and Daemon murmured to each other as they sped down the hall and with a final glance they nodded and left their respective chambers. They were going to take you by law or by force and Viserys had made his choice. It was time to play their move.

Rhaenyra stepped into her chambers with a plan. She and Daemon would use the passageways and–oh. When she turned her head there you were sitting patiently on her bed with a book in had and your hair cascading behind you like a fairy-tale beauty. When you saw her, a radiant beaming smile forced the light of all stars to crash your eyes willingly just for it to meet your sister. Her heart stopped for a moment but when you stood she knew that nothing was going to keep her from expressing her love for you. She cared for Daemon, hell she even cared for Criston, but neither affections ever nearly reached her care for you. She didn't stop her feet when they moved toward you, a giddying glee enveloping her as you stepped toward her. She wanted you to feel her adoration as she took a leap and pulled your alluring face toward her own and joined your lips in an earth-shattering embracive kiss. Her tongue moved against your mouth like it belonged there. She wanted it to belong there. When the kiss became too suffocating she pulled away to breathe and found her fingers having entwined in your hair. Your eyes were blown out in beautiful circles of confusion and joy and she revelled in it. "Avy jorrāelan, hāedar." She declared as your own hands rested against her. (I love you, sister/younger sister) You melted into her arms. "Majigho tosh nyke." (Come with me) Her hand tugged you further into the room until she had you pressed to a cold stone wall. She worked hard to push back her bed and open the passageway for your curious eyes. She took a hold of your hand again and pulled you in.

"What is this?" You asked with wonder as you scaled the building with your eyes. She chuckled before kissing your cheeks. "The start of everything, my love." She replied, hearing Daemon's oncoming footsteps. When he reached them there, both were in a giggling excitement but that wasn't the cause of his surprise. "Kepus!" You announced at the sight of him and turned into a beautiful flush of pink. (Uncle) A desire to possess you rang in his ears and it showed in his sly grin. He greeted you both with a nod of the head before pulling a bag from behind his back. He tossed it to the floor as you wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging him to your height. His eager arms lingered on your waist only to release one in favour of his fingers playing with a strand of your hair. He chuckled mischievously. "What's this?" He asked, referring to a small cut hidden beneath the curtain of white. You pulled away bashfully though his other hand stayed trapping you in his embrace. Rhaenyra watched with increasing excitement. She glanced at the bag and rifled through it. You batted your eyelashes at him as you recounted the events which caused your short strand. "I, well..." You trailed. Rhaenyra ever the more confident answered for you. "She was riding on Syrax with me and we hit a branch." She answered teasingly. Daemon hummed and held in his amusement at your embarrassed flush. He stroked a thumb over it affectionately before leaning in to kiss it gently. Your eyes closed as an innocent gasp left you. "Then it will heal." He noted. "It would be a shame to scar such a pretty riña." Daemon delighted in the sweet tilt to your mouth. (girl) "Indeed." Rhaenyra purred, rising from the bag so that she could thrust a pile of fabric into your arms.

You looked down and frowned at it. Daemon had to stop himself from asking to help. "Clothing." He answered your non-question. You looked up into his violet eyes. "We're taking you for the adventure of your life, darling." At the words, Rhaenyra sent you an assuring grin and nod of encouragement. To their persuasion, you followed Rhaenyra's lead, both of you pulling a beige shirt over your head after Rhaenyra unlaced your dress and let it fall to the floor. She sucked in a sharp breath while Daemon let his eyes wander your form. You acted too quickly for him to let them stray from task for too long as he pushed the hidden passage back in place but he appreciated the brief glimpse. When dressed, Rhaenyra's comforting hand cupped your cheek and drew you into another kiss. A short panic shot through you when you broke from her and saw Daemon watching but she quickly pulled you back to face her. "He knows." She spoke. "We love you together, my sweet hāedar." Daemon approached with cautious calculated steps and drew your bodies both into him, a hand on each cheek. "It is not something to fear, dōna jorrāelan, it is to be celebrated and we know just how." He pressed his warm lips to your forehead and laid a kiss there.

The dragonpit was silent as Daemon paid off guards to allow entry but it didn't quell your nerves, your hands were occupied with each Rhaenyra and Daemon as they guided you onto your dragon and they mounted their own. They shared a glance. The start of forever awaited them as they rose in the air. They kept you and your dragon between them as if guarding you, Daemon behind to keep watch of the city below in case their presence came known and Rhaenyra guiding you forward. As the warm air blew in your face you remained unaware of their intentions. The wind whispered promises of devotion and the sun shone on them like it was made for this day and when you finally landed, Rhaenyra almost didn't want to glide to the floor. She rushed at the chance to help you down however and grinned wickedly back at Daemon. Dragonstone? You wondered though anticipation rattled your bones. Daemon came to sweep you under his arm as you came closer to the castle where their Septon stood waiting. You hesitated at the unfamiliar sight but Rhaenyra and Daemon's smiling faces urged you forward. They swept past the Septon as though not there at all, instead leading you inside. The stairs were winding as they took you up and into a large lavish chamber where a perfect gold and red garment entranced you, it seemed to pair with the headpiece beside it. Daemon leant into your ear. "Soon." He whispered before leaving. Rhaenyra kissed you before you could question further and left you in the room.

Seeing them again but this time in their own garb felt like a warm pressure clutching you in a tight embrace. Their own prideful expressions furthered your trust in them, reminding you of their love. "Do you know why we're here, my love?" Rhaenyra asked quietly and held your hands together. You shook your head and pulled a lip between your teeth. She smiled. "We want to marry you." Your eyes widened and snapped to see Daemon's smirking face immediately. "We need you to be ours." He continued. "We need to claim you, would you like that?" Breath clogged your lungs with a strong push keeping your surprise down. Rhaenyra's fingers glided up your arm. "You only need to say yes." She told you quietly and nuzzled her nose in your hair, breathing in your scent. She wholeheartedly believed that you were made for her. "Will you?" The fluffy feeling she projected into your heart kept you from disagreeing. And so a gentle, "Yes", fell from your lips like a plea. You felt her wide grin against your neck as she lay a series of kisses along it. Daemon's form surprised you when his fingers rolled around your waist so that his teeth could mould onto your jaw and suck a sweet mark just below. He soothed it with kisses of his own and when they both pulled away from you, you felt cold and needy. However there wasn't time for that. Viserys could realise you were missing any second now as they guided you once more toward the Septon. The Septon officiated your promises of love and protection. The sharp sting along the line of your lip felt dull as they soothed you with amorous eyes and warm hands. Your thumb became stained with the blood of the dragon and you didn't mind because it reminded you of your love. "Mēre ñelly, mēre prūmia, mēre soul, sir se forever."  When you all joined to pledge your love with a kiss, their lips brought your own into a security you had never known before but also a freedom. A new world for them to experiment.

*You knew what would happen when you inevitably reached your chambers, the burn in you grasping you in a chokehold. Rhaenyra's soft hands against Daemon's hard touch made you feel euphoric as they slipped you and each other from your traditional garments. A low groan ripped from Daemon's chest, leading his hands to hold your breasts and squeezing while Rhaenyra wrapped her hands onto your waist and sucked marks as dark as his eyes into your skin. After years of pleading, she finally had you. You were the only thing she had ever believed was destined to be hers and now you were her own to mark and praise as she saw fit. "So good for us." She murmured, her wet lips trailing you. Daemon moaned at the sight. "Our good omega, aren't you?" The prince asked and you had a feeling it wasn't rhetorical as his iron grip held you. Rhaenyra raised her eyes to look at your blissful face. He pulled away from you then to watch as you nodded. "So perfect." Rhaenyra breathed, her hands sliding onto your breasts from behind and rolling them like a massage. Daemon kissed your jaw and followed the line of your body until he reached the valley of your breasts, kissing Rhaenyra's hands before further trailing down. 

When he reached your lower belly, his hands swept under your rear and hoisted you against Rhaenyra's body so you were between them. He wrapped your legs around his hips. Rhaenyra relinquished her hands although your whimper made her desire to take you back into her again but she stepped back and swallowed. She sat herself waiting on the large bed. "Gaomagon jaelā naejot sagon īlvon, dōna riña?" He whispered to you as he walked you toward it too. (Do you want to be ours, sweet girl?) He dropped you down onto the plush mattress. Your head lay back between Rhaenyra's thighs, her fingers carding through your hair soothingly. "Say it." She whispered into your ear. Daemon started kissing down your stomach. 

"Jaelan sytilībagon aōhon." You answered. (I want to be yours) And it was with that statement that they knew they had you right where they needed you. Daemon didn't hesitate to press a sloppy kiss against your bud, his tongue circling around it like nothing you had ever felt before. Rhaenyra's hands moved to interlace with your own as you thrashed your head back into her. His tongue guided along you like his vows. "Sȳz riña." He murmured, vibrating his mouth against you. (Good girl) A shuddering jolt passed through your body, curling your toes and fingers. Rhaenyra almost moaned just watching you fall apart atop her. His tongue lolled into the depths of you and flicked back forth, experienced. "Skorkydoso gaomagon ao pendagon ao sylutegon?" Rhaenyra asked, throat tightening at the thought of having you herself. (How do you think you taste?) She took in your flushed cheeks and droopy eyelids, you were perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. "Dōna..." She whispered. "iā heksīr averilla?" She pulled her hands from yours so that she could suddenly rake her nails over your pointing nipples and groaned. (Sweet...or like wine?" Daemon chuckled as your hips snapped up to his mouth, her teeth briefly leaping along your sensitive bud. You squealed at the sharpness of his canines but just as you were about to release another moan, Daemon's head pulled back and let you hips fall back onto the bedding.

A heave escaped your lips even when you looked down at his waiting violet eyes. Your disappointed and confused furrow of your brow treated him like a winner and he couldn't hold back his evil grin. You almost whined for him but then he was hoisting your legs over his shoulders and leaning forward to join your faces. Your legs burned as he stretched them up close to your collarbones and your neck felt cold when Rhaenyra's body moved from behind it. Daemon was smirking at you. One of Rhaenyra's hands stayed on your nipple, flicking you nipple back and forth like a toy but the rest of her sat beside your limp body. Daemon stroked your face firmly and delighted in the whimpers he caused. "We're going to breed you, sweetling." Rhaenyra told you in her beautiful lilting voice, it almost made the words sound less vulgar. She pressed wet kisses down your neck. "You're ours now and some people don't want you to be." "Will you teach them with us, dōna riña?" Daemon's face was so close to yours but he refused to give into your desires so soon. He urged Rhaenyra with a knowing look to start pressing a slow ring on your clit. Then she slipped it inside, stealing your gasps with a suction-like kiss. "Yes." You replied when she released you with a soft squelch. Daemon growled as if he was being possessed by Caraxes and sucked a harsh mark into your neck.

"Our good girl." He breathed. "Are you ready for my cock?" His tone was domineering and his words vulgar but all you could think about was how good it would feel when his thick appendage finally broke through you. He chuckled wickedly at your dazed glassy eyes and guided his length to your waiting, swollen entrance. Rhaenyra's finger sped up though she withdrew the one that had been slinking inside of you, leaving a gooey trail up your stomach as she slithered it up to your mouth. She tapped your lips and when she dipped it in and lay it at your tongue, a lewd mewl escaped you. Daemon exchanged a proud nod with your sister and felt his breath stutter as he began sliding himself into you. Your red sopping mound nearly scurried away from him but he held your hips tightly in place and Rhaenyra murmured sweet praise into your ear.

"You don't want to be taken away from us do you?" She asked quietly while Daemon halted halfway-through to allow at least some adjustment. Rhaenyra tilted her head at you and let the upturn of her lips glide into a smirk. You shook your head and gasped as her lips pressed against yours. "Then let us have you...all of you." A light trail of blood seeped into the bedding when your uncle broke through the only barrier keeping him from you but none of you seemed to care as he thrust forward and sunk into your wet heat. "Taking me so well." Daemon commented as easily as complimenting your dress but a moan released from buried within his chest as your tight hole engulfed all of him. "Our good girl, we're going to fill you until you burst." His hips snapped against you in a pleasing join of sweat-slick flesh. You had the heat of the dragon within you and it didn't let itself go unnoticed. Rhaenyra's leg swung around your middle when your soft moans and jolting body continued, forcing Daemon to lower your legs. Tears began to release but she kissed at them until you couldn't tell what was from your eyes or the wetness of her tongue. She slid her mouth to capture you, her tongue probing your own.

"I want you to show me what Daemon taught you." The crinkle of your brow went ignored until her thighs locked on either side of your head and her cunt dropped onto your lips. Your inexperienced tongue licked at her curiously and a warm pride filled your chest when she moaned. Your mind went dizzying as your body took full control, you almost felt like an intruding ghost as the heat of your bodies swept over you. You felt as her nub grew larger and larger, sighing in satisfaction as your eyes closed. Daemon's pace maintained a hard brutal pace, abusing your hole until a tingling heightened in your stomach. You cried out as an unknown feeling ebbed away at you. "That's it." He coaxed, almost yelling. "Cum for me, my pretty wives." Rhaenyra let a hoarse scream erupt as you whimpered and thrashed below her, a wave of pleasure finally crashing and a new taste dripping onto your tongue. You lapped at it like a greedy dog but they loved it, Rhaenyra's fingers wrapping in your Targaryen strands and gripping like a vice. The come down felt a newfound clarity. His skin didn't stop slapping against yours until a surge of his seed flowed into you. As it began to drip out of you, he used a singular finger to curl it back into you, thrusting as it did so. Rhaenyra eventually slipped from you but when her fingers released your hair, they played with it in a relaxed threading. "Perfect." She breathed before sliding off the bed much to your disagreement. They both chuckled at you with affectioned smiles. "I hope you don't think we're done, dōna ābrazȳrys." Daemon pulled out of your heat and quickly began to rub his manhood again as Rhaenyra took his place. She was already rubbing your pelvises against one another. "We won't stop until we know you swell with our babe." "You're insides are going to stain white by the time we're through with you."

[hypnos333]

Changing Fate

Eros x Goddess reader

Synopsis: Fate had it easy for you as you were a goddess of fate until you got in the away with another’s fate

You were the daughter of Hera and Zeus, you were the third born after Ares and Hephaestus. Of course your parents adores you especially your mother. Being the goddess of Fate was easy then one, two, and three.

You were as beautiful as Aphrodite but you were no goddess of beauty.

“U-Uhm ___?” Eros called out holding your golden paged journal.

“Oh my Zeus! Thank you so much Eros” You said excitedly holding the book with delicacy. His wings flutter in shyness.

“Of course my cupid” He said back making you blush before hold the journal close to you.

“I should be calling you that Cupid” You flirted back making him blush again. He always haded feelings for you and since you lost your fate book you didn’t see that his fate now changed.

“So what should I call you? Oh! How about my love?” he asked excitedly making me agree instantly

“Whatever you like my cupid but right now I have to do my job” you said your goodbye. “Bye my love” Eros said back dreamily making you giggle as you turn back to your mansion.

You reread the journal to make sure everything was in shape in normal but it wasn’t….

See with the journal you can see everyone’s fate even gods or goddesses with Eros it holds a sparkling pink thread around his fate. It’s fading…. And not for the right reasons it should.

Eros fate is about love…

A king and queen has three daughters, all three of the girls are attractive but one of them is absolutely gorgeous- Phyche was her name. People would come all over to check out how beautiful she was. neglecting the proper worship of Aphrodite, instead prayed and made offerings to her. It was rumored that she was the second coming of Venus, or the daughter of Venus from an unseemly union between the goddess and a mortal. Venus is offended, and commissions Cupid to work her revenge. Cupid is sent to shoot Psyche with an arrow so that she may fall in love with something hideous. He instead scratches himself with his own dart, which makes any living thing fall in love with the first thing it sees. Consequently, he falls deeply in love with Psyche and disobeys his mother's order. Although her two humanly beautiful sisters have married, the idolized Psyche has yet to find love. Her father suspects that they have incurred the wrath of the gods, and consults the oracle of Apollo. The response is unsettling: the king is to expect not a human son-in-law, but rather a dragon-like creature The transported girl awakes to find herself at the edge of a cultivated grove. Exploring, she finds a marvelous house with golden columns, a carved ceiling of citrus wood and ivory, silver walls embossed with wild and domesticated animals, and jeweled mosaic floors. A disembodied voice tells her to make herself comfortable, and she is entertained at a feast that serves itself and by singing to an invisible lyre. Although fearful and without the proper experience, she allows herself to be guided to a bedroom where, in the darkness, a being she cannot see has sex with her. She gradually learns to look forward to his visits, though he always departs before sunrise and forbids her to look upon him. Soon, she becomes pregnant.

One night after Cupid falls asleep, Psyche carries out the plan her sisters devised: she brings out a dagger and a lamp she had hidden in the room, in order to see and kill the monster. But when the light instead reveals the most beautiful creature she has ever seen, she is so startled that she wounds herself on one of the arrows in Cupid's cast-aside quiver. Struck with a feverish passion, she spills hot oil from the lamp and wakes him. He flees, and though she tries to pursue, he flies away and leaves her on the bank of a river.

The rest of his fate was faded

You stood there shocked, this never happened before… this should’ve never happened. Why is it fading?

The ink was supposed to stay as it should so why is his fate changing?

You couldn’t say that you were glad his fate was changing, you were falling for the cupid after all but that did not mean he couldn’t be happy.

All she could do was watch the ink disappear like his fate was never there, and hope a new fate can appear for him. You slammed the book shut and rush to make sure Eros was safe.

When you saw him getting an apple from a tree you immediately rushed to him with a hug. Eros almost fell from the rush of someone.

“Woah My love, are you alright?” he asked gently not wanting to trigger you.

You put your hands on his cheek to make sure he has no injuries. “Of course, Are you okay?” you asked worriedly.

“Yeah? ___ we saw each other ten minutes ago, what’s wrong?” he asked making you hesitate on the question it’s self. It’s not like you can hide his dying fate from him but know something could be wrong is killing you.

“Y-Your fate changed and I couldn’t do anything about it and I thought something was wrong” You admitted making him nod.

“My fate with a human girl?” he asked making you instantly nod.

“Yeah a-and wait how did you know?” You asked making him chuckle awkwardly before clearing his throat to explain.

“W-Well I look in the journal and saw how my fate went and honestly I don’t want that to happen because ___ goddess of fate i’m in love with you” He confessed making you blush in shyness.

“W-What?” You whispered.

“I got approval from you family especially Ares and Zeus even though they’re scary as hell but I was willing to do it for you and I have been falling for you for decades but you were to busy in your work” He explained

“Well Eros of love and sex I will happily be yours” You said making him spin you around in joy.

“I’ll definitely make you the most happiest goddess in this earth my love” he stated making you hum as you leaned in as you both kissed passionately.

[therobotmonster]

The Fae Thought He Had Her, but She's Had Lots of Practice

Actual Title: "On Foreign Soil."

The fae was having a grand old time with his latest toy. Mortals were easily befuddled with the magic of contract-and-courtesy. He'd taken pretty much all he could from the family: several names, the mother's attention, the son's concept of friendship... Even the life of the father.

He'd taken that one taking just the right moment of his time, the one where he moved just out of the oncoming car's path. That also took out the youngest daughter and making a new neverwas to lurk in the pockets of lost time around the home.

The tricks made him strong. The sense of betrayal and regret humans had when they realized how screwed they truly were was like honey: rich, sweet, and immune to spoilage. If anything, in the last sixty-some-odd years he'd been home the humans had gotten more petulant and even easier to trick.

It was a veritable buffet.

So when the eldest daughter returned home from college, he expected her to be easy pickings. The young were always foolish and prideful, and very often rude. They gave him so many opportunities.

So when she threw open the door, and stared at him with cold green eyes, he immediately laughed in delight. His face took on a distinctively 'David Bowiesq' aspect, a trick he found worked well the last time he'd been to the mortal lands.

"Oh, hello. May I have your name, lass?" He cooed in a cocky-yet-soothing voice.

"My name is Alex, and no." She said.

He raised a brow. She was canny, or at least half-canny. She knew enough to object to him taking it. Still, she had answered, and by the laws of the fae, the latter objection did not override the former offer.

So why wasn't he Alex now?

It was odd, but sometimes mortals were a little resistant to magic. He worried for a moment she was a skeptic, but she couldn't be. Her response meant she knew, or at least suspected, what he was. Moreover, he didn't feel the painful chill and sluggishness empiressence caused, nor the crushing weight of the explicable upon his bird-hollow bones.

No, she was just lucky, or was carrying an iron horseshoe, nothing he couldn't handle in his, or someone else's sleep.

"And what the fuck are you calling yourself, asshole?"

He blinked.

The impudence hit him like a slap. She'd just given him the opening to do anything he wanted, but the raw temerity of the insult, it's artless crudeness, it's utter lack of respect stunned him too much to enjoy it. His rage and petulance rushed into the hole left by his shock, and he sputtered.

"You rude little beast, you have no idea what you've brought upon yourself!"

He raised one pale hand, the flesh fading from it to leave nothing but blackened bone, and he pointed the index finger at her in a silent gesture. He let fly his curse. Not just any curse, but his, the one he had made for just such an occasion.

Alex stared at him. Arms crossed. Her hair was the color of the fae's own rage.

"What's the matter, cat got your brain?"

The fae's confidence wavered and the flesh returned to his hand.

"Where are the spiders?" He said. "There... there ought to be spiders! There should be spiders!"

She rolled her eyes.

"You broke the laws of courtesy and decorum! I can do as I please as a wronged noble! You should be spiders!"

"Whose laws?" It was Alex's turn to smile.

"Why, the only ones that matter, the laws of Faerie, as laid down by Oberon and Tita-"

"And Titsforbrains, yeah. I was five once and I can read. I know your dumb politics. Slight problem. Where are you now?"

"The mortal realm?"

"More specifically?"

"The Earth. The United States."

"Exactly." Alex smiled. "And while you might come the land of the platonic ideal of inbred nepobabies, in the United States of America, no law says I can't call a fuckface a fuckface. Fuckface."

The fae tried a different curse, yet Alex was not being twisted into any sort of goat, ironic or otherwise. "But, that doesn't matter! We're a higher form of being, our laws override yours."

"No they don't." Alex said with a confidence reserved for honey badgers and humans of age three. "Now undo all your bullshit and get out of my house."

"Nuh-uh!" The Fae's cocky smirk returned. With a flourish, he pulled out a deed. "It's my house, I got it off your mother, fair-and-square. She traded it for the heart your little brother so foolishly traded me. So you should get out of MY house."

"Contracts signed under duress are non-enforceable." She said in a bored, dismissive tone.

The Fae started to object, but the contract was already crumbling into dried daffodil petals in his hand. He tried to pretend this wasn't terrifying. Inexplicable happenings were supposed to be caused by him, not happen to him. "Are you a wizard?"

"Don't be stupid. I just know my rights." She said. "I'm betting you didn't disclose the full terms of the contracts either?"

The Fae shook his head, more from fear than as a response to the question. Of course he hadn't. If the mortals didn't do their due diligence and couldn't read Linear-B, that wasn't his fau-

The thirty years he stole from the youngest boy ripped themselves out of his body. A half dozen other deals began popping at the seams.

"How are you doing this?" He gasped.

"I'm not doing it. You are. You're idiot who runs on rules and laws who decided to come scam innocent people for your own profit and amusement."

"But it always worked before-" The Fae ran his mind through all his previous romps. Every single human had whined and begged about how unfair things were. Why was this one different?

He ran through those memories again. They were among his favorites so it was easy for him to see every detail. An old man trying to argue Fae law with him. A shepherd girl trying to use her own word games to trap him. A hippie saying almost the exact same words about non-enforceable contracts.

Almost.

He ran through the memories again and again. Always impressed or terrified or blinded by greed, the mortals always argued on his terms, always went back to his wording of the deal or contract, always appealed to the laws of his people and his own noble position.

None of them had ever argued jurisdiction. Once one of them had, it applied, not just now, not just to these toys, but retroactively, and, from how it felt, with interest.

"Oh." Was all the Fae could say.

"Yes. 'Oh.'" Alex smiled like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. "Children can't sign contracts, either, you know."

Everything the Fae had done to the boy snapped back at once. It felt like every seventh tendon in his body had been snipped simultaneously with tiny scissors.

"Nor can someone sign away the right to kill them to someone else, or sell themselves or others into slavery."

Alex's father reappeared in the living room, looking dazed. In his lap was Alex's youngest sister, now remembered by all present as a person that existed. The return of the father's moment was a minor loss, but there was one less neverwas in the Castle of Paradox, and the Baron would blame him for its unmaking.

"Also, names aren't transferable between people, nor are they the whole and sum of a person's identity in this country. The closest thing we have to that is a social security number. And if you steal one of those, well, identity theft is a crime here."

Mr. Baxter, Mrs. Baxter, Julie and Sam's lights all turned on at once, though they were still groggy and half-asleep and would be for hours to come.

A fortune in names, first, middle, last, with nicknames and pet-names and all between, all vanished from the Fae's purse. He could feel its lightness in his pocket.

The Fae turned on his heels. "I fear I must take my leave, so sorry for the inconvenience!"

He was halfway to the door. The impact on the back of his skull knocked him forward off his feet, sending him slamming into the polished wood floor. The projectile that laid him out bounced and landed by his head.

He'd been right about her having an iron horseshoe.

"You don't get to walk away." She said. He felt her steel-toed boot, soles made of entirely synthetic rubber and cleats of cold steel, press against the base of his spine. His hollow, bird-bone spine. "You don't get to fuck with people, say 'my bad' when you get caught, and run."

"Y-your law!" He gasped. He felt his bones cracking. He wanted to turn into something else but he couldn't focus. She was pressing down harder now, because she was half-kneeling. Her hand picked up the fallen horseshoe. "You have to let me go, or arrest me, turn me over to your police, right? You can't just murder me!"

"What are you?"

"I- I'm a Faerie of Arcadia, a sub-Prince of the House of-"

"So not a human. And not an animal." She kept him pinned.

"No!" He growled. Blood the color of an oil slick on the highway began to fill his mouth. The pain made him forget his fear for a moment, and he bared his true face, something between a bug, a wax store mannequin, and a pug-dog. "We-we're a higher form of life! Far beyond anything this miserable pile of dung you call a planet has to offer! You will pay for this impertinence the moment you break the law that holds me!"

"You're a lot of things. A bully, a pest, a liar. But you're not human. And you're not an animal. In fact, as far as the laws of this land are concerned, you aren't real."

Alex lifted her boot to kick him onto his back, then pinned him again.

"Th-then you can't kill me!" He laughs. "You can't kill something that's not real! You've trapped yourself! You'll have to let me go!"

"You haven't been to our 'pile of dung' in some time have you?" Alex asked. She nodded to a strange white book-shaped object that sat unopened, upright, next to the television, next to a pair of white and black crescent-moon shaped objects studded with small white and black buttons.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

--

Six hours later, a notification popped up on Alex's dorm room computer.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Chance 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Jonathan Pine

Summary: You move into your parents' house as you try to rebuild your life, catching the attention of someone you never expected.

Part of the Brother's Best Friend Universe

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It’s no glorious homecoming. You have little to be proud of. A broken relationship, a lost job, and wasted years. In hindsight, it’s easy to see how stupid you are. Even with the excuse of emotion, you can’t forgive yourself for your own poor choices.

Back to square one. Literally. What kind of forty-two year old lives with their parents? The one staring back at you.

You splash your face, rinsing away the collagen wash that doesn’t seem to help the wrinkles. If it had, maybe he wouldn’t have cheated. Maybe he wouldn’t be shacked up with a woman half your age. A girl, really.

You shake your head and sigh. Nothing you can do or undo.

You shut off the tap as you hear voices above. The basement is close enough to an apartment; you have your own bathroom and a reasonable amount of space. Privacy is another matter as your mother barges in to get to the laundry room or even just chatter about Clara’s casserole.

You dry your face and your hands and leave the bathroom. You cross the carpeted floor to the stairs and pause. Your brother must have got to town early and your parents are ecstatic to have him back. They can be proud of him; he’s an executive in a national company with a wife-to-be on his arm. Younger but always ahead of you.

You still haven’t found the courage to go up and say hello. Now’s as good a time as ever. You’re thirsty and they say hydration is the key to staying young. Yeah right, that’s not something you can change now.

You hope your future sister-in-law doesn’t mind your pajamas. The blue and white striped satin set are of the few nice things you salvaged from your former life. You open the door and shuffle up in your slippers.

The voices draw you to the kitchen. You peek around and find your parents standing on one side of the square island as your brother stands between two other figures. You didn’t think there was anyone else coming.

You think better of introducing yourself. You’ll go back downstairs and say you fell asleep. As you turn, your arm hits the vase on the side table. You cringe as it goes silent.

“Honey?” Your mother calls to you. You exhale and steel yourself.

“Uh, hi,” you sidle into the doorway, “I didn’t want to interrupt. I just wanted to get some water.”

“Nonsense, Jaydon’s here with his love fiancee, Tandi,” she trills as she beckons you forward, “and Jonathan popped in to catch up.”

You look around as you near the island. Jonathan. Pine? You didn’t think he was still around here. Everyone else seems to have moved on.

“Hey,” your brother, Jaydon grumbles.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Tandi offers her hand with a bright smile. She’s tall and slim and beautiful and probably ten years younger than your brother. Why do men always do that?

“You too,” you give a strained smile.

“Nice to see you again,” Jonathan intones and you look at him, struck by his clinging eyes.

He changed but he is not unrecognizable. He was always the tall, stringy kid but he’s filled out, he has some lines across his forehead and around his eyes, but they only refine his looks. He used to just be your brother’s sidekick, now he stays straight and confident.

“You too, Jonathan,” you murmur, “sorry, I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

“We made pretty good time,” Jaydon says proudly.

“Just so happens I’m in town for a family affair as well,” Jonathan adds, “good a time as ever to reconnect.”

You nod and wait for someone else to speak. You have nothing exciting to boast of. You’d rather fade into the background in the shine of their achievements. You’re certain they’ve already been briefed on your comedy of errors.

“Me and Tandi were just saying we’d like to go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. You could join us for a ladies’ day out. We’ll give the men some space,” your mother chimes. “Get you out of the house.”

Her last comments sting. You’ve been hiding. You don’t want to be recognised or need to explain yourself. Even if you did deflect curiosity, you don’t need another reminder of all your failures. And the farmer’s market? What are you going to do there? You don’t have the money for overpriced heirloom tomatoes.

Still, you have to play along. That was the talk your mother had with you. Like a teenager she had to tell you exactly how to behave when company was there. Company? He’s your brother.

“Sure, that sounds good,” you agree.

“I’m so excited,” Tandi beams, “it will be nice to explore and get to know Jay’s hometown.”

She touches his arm and he promptly drapes it around her shoulders. Jay? He always hated being called that but he seems to like her. For now. Their show of intimacy makes you shrivel up inside.

“There is very much to see,” Jonathan quips, putting your own thoughts to words. “Quaint, as the polite would put it.”

“Well, I recall you never had any issue finding something to do,” your mother rebukes playfully and Jonathan smirks.

“Yes, but I don’t suppose it’s the sort of activity your little ladies’ day out would entail,” he gives a coy tilt of his head.

“I hope you’ve grown out of that,” your mother kids.

“Mm, I like to think I have,” he shrugs.

You’re certain he has. All of them are the adults in the room and you’re the hermit in the basement. You have no illusions, you know your mother, you know all your mistakes have been laid out on the table; on every table in town. Oh woe to her, she always did try to raise you right.

“Mm, yes, well, it has been so long and you are all adults,” your mother says, as if to affirm your resent, “you’ve all come such a far way.”

You bite down on your cheeks, holding your tongue. It’s probably not a snipe at you, you’re just sensitive. You look at the counter and try to make yourself small. The glimpse of your pajamas once more sets you apart from them. How embarrassing.

“Oh, yes, speaking of,” Jaydon pipes up, “the engagement party. You said you had a venue in mind. We should see that while we’re here.”

“Ah,” your mother nearly squeals, “you’re going to do it here?”

“We talked about it,” Jaydon looks at Tandi, “but the wedding is still up in the air.”

“Oh my, how exciting,” your mother trills. “Perhaps tomorrow then, we might do that as well,” your mother continues her giddy raving, “mm, and flowers, catering, oh! A dress…”

You could slip away right then. She wouldn’t notice. None of them would.

You peek over at her. She was never that excited for you. Well, you never got the ring. You were never that special. You tear your eyes away and they meet another pair. You quickly wipe the sadness from your face and send Jonathan a plaintive smile. His eyes narrow and his gaze lingers.

You break your own stare and try to focus on the conversation. You should be happy for your brother, not bitter. Afterall, you made your own mistakes, not him.

[ponyosmom35]

you don't like me, I don't like you

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability series chapter two!

Synopsis: Reader is new, she's a medic whom is strictly on base. She is not enlisted in the military. She's there due to her older sisters training for Taskforce 141, her sister made a deal with Laswell, the pair were a packaged deal. Ghost hasn't been taking her arrival well as he feels like she's a waste of space. He is not afraid to let her know for the second time since they've met.

warnings: enemies to lovers, cursing, ghost is scary, reader is stubborn

Link to full Liability series:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

After finally finishing the last part of the report Ghost sighs and closes his computer. It was nearly 3 am and he was exhausted. He stands up, stretching his sore limbs slightly, and walks to his door, he shuts the light off and closes it behind him, locking it. In the distance, he could hear banging. He frowns knowing that it was lights out, so nobody should be awake. He notices the light coming from the training center and walks in angrily. He notices the new medic. Younger sister of Sergeant Emma James, one of the finest in the training program. Price had her transferred to his base so he could keep an eye on her, testing to see if she’d be a good fit for 141. He was unsure why Laswell had requested her medic sister be transferred as well. The girl had been nothing but a pain in his ass from the moment she arrived. She didn’t belong there, what use was a medic if she was strictly on base, no military experience.  He scoffs as he notices her incorrect form as she punches the bag over and over, her stance was off and her hands weren’t even taped correctly. He stomps over to her and turns off the music she had playing in the background. She whips around and glares at him angrily. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” she demands, snatching the speaker from him

“You shouldn’t be out here, its light out”

“I don’t care” 

“Go back to your room, no one is allowed out here”

“Then why are you here?” she questions, staring at him with raised eyebrows 

“The rules don’t apply to me”

“So you’re above it all now?” she asks sarcastically 

“I’m the Lieutenant” he deadpans 

“I don’t really care to be honest” 

“Listen, I don't think you understand. You don't belong here. You're not a solider. You are a medic. So, get back to your rom and stay there. Otherwise, I'm going to have to report you to Captain Price for insubordination. Do I make myself clear?” Ghost warns, his tone incredibly threatening. It takes everything in her not to show her fear.  

“I’m not enlisted in the military”

“Listen, you may work for Laswell, but you're still on a military base, and that makes you subject to military law. Go to your room, or I will order the guards to take you there myself. Understood?”

“what guards Luitentant? looks like it’s just you and me here” she says gesturing to the empty room.

“Don't test me, medic. Just go back to your room, and don't come out until morning. Is that a clear enough order for you?”

“like I said, I don't take orders from you Ghost” she sneers 

“You're making a mistake. Let me spell it out for you, Either you agree to do what I say and when I say it, or I'll call Laswell and have her pull you out of this task force and send you back to the states. Is that clear?”

“First you bitch about my lack of training, now you're bitching at me to go to bed! make up your goddamn mind!”

“So that's your attitude then? Fine, I'll call Laswell right now and explain the situation. There’s an endless amount of army medics who do us good in the field. You’re easy to replace”

“fuck you” she says as she tries to push past him, making sure to hit him with her shoulder

“Listen!” he snaps, grabbing her arm and pull her back towards him, his tone growing more serious as his expression darkens.

“ I've been trying to be patient with you, but that time is over. Now listen up, because I'm going to say this once. You are here because you're part of a team and you're expected to behave like it. And that means doing what I say, no questions asked. Do you understand?”

“If I say yes will you finally shut the fuck up?”

“I wasn't finished speaking, and you will show a little more respect to me and this unit. Now, I asked you a question. Do you understand?”

“yes! I heard you perfectly clear” she responds as she turns her back on him and walks towards the sleeping quarters. 

“Fucking hell” 

-

The next morning Ghost had asked Soap to bring her to his office the next morning. He could not have her behave that way around the others. Disrespect was not permitted here. Someone needed to teach her. It dones’t take long for a knock to appear at his door. 

“Come in” he yells gruffly 

Soap opens the door for her and pats her on the shoulder gently. He sends Ghost a look before shutting it behind him. Ghost motions for her to enter and sit down at the chair across from his desk. “Now that you’ve slept on it, what have you got to say for yourself? I hope you've got a real good excuse for that behavior last night”

“what do you want me to say? want me to tell you I'm on my period or that I'm just that naturally charming?” she says sarcastically, her arms crossed as she sits down. 

“What I want to know is why you thought it was okay to go against direct orders from a superior officer”

“I see that we're going in circles here, so why don't we just cut the shit. you don't like me, I don't like you. For whatever reason you've been out to get me since I got here. Look man I'm just trying to do my job, so if you want me to stop 'defying orders'”  she quotes him sarcastically “then you should just let me do what I came here to”

“You don't get it, do you? It has nothing to do with me not liking you or some personal vendetta that you think I have against you. The fact of the matter is, you're not qualified to be a part of this operation. You don't have the training, skills, or experience to handle yourself in a dangerous situation. What you're doing is putting yourself and other members of the task force at risk, and I'm not going to tolerate it.”

“my position has nothing to do with the field, I'm strictly on base!” she exclaims 

“That is not the point. You're still on duty, and you're still responsible for the safety and well-being of the task force. You're a liability, not a help, when it comes down to it. If we need an immediate evac and the other actual medics are already in the field then what? we send you in because you're all we got. The last thing I need right now is to worry about keeping you safe instead of focusing on the mission. So, do you understand why you're nothing but a burden to me on this task force?”

“I've been called many things in my life, but never a burden. that's a new one thanks Ghost you truly never fail to surprise me! But you aren't gonna bully me out of here. Laswell wanted me here and I'm gonna do my job” she says standing “Also for future reference, the medic that could be saving your life one day really isn't the person to piss off”

“Oh trust me, I'm well aware” his skull-covered face inching closer as he leaned forward, his dark eyes boring into hers. She stands tall and refuses to let him see how truly nervous he made her. ”But while we're giving life advice, let me give you some. If I were you, I would be very careful about who you choose to piss off. Because if I have to deal with your bullshit again, I'll make sure you regret it. Is that clear?”

She salutes him sarcastically and walks out the door. Ghost rolls his eyes and sighs in frustration. 

“Bloody hell” he murmurs before going back to his paperwork. 

chapter 3: https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733828281298780160/show-him?source=share

[adventuringblind]

Hello darling🤍 I have a request about Lando x fem!reader, were she is a lawyer for another f1 team (maybe ferrrari), so they had to hide their relationship from the media. So during a race Lando got a P3 and Charles P1, he gets so jealous when see her cheering on Charles’s victory.

But when they come back to the hotel, he was a bit cold towards her, and decide to explain why; sooo she show him how much she is proud of him. *smirk😏*

Sooo I hope you like my ideaaa, I love jealous Lando🥹🥹

Btw, thanks for all your works🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

The Law of Lando

Genre: angst?, smut, fluff

Summary: Lando is a jealous boy and reader tells him there is no reason to be.

Warnings: jealous Lando, Sexual innuendo

Notes: soooooo not sure if this was the exact idea but I tried and I hope you like it T_T

Masterlist

Being a lawyer for Ferrari is no easy feat. It's even harder when you have to hide a relationship with someone from another team.

Her and Lando fit this perfectly. To perfectly, actually, since it's their exact situation. It's not ideal, but they make it work.

This particular race they are at brings her the most stressful two hours of her life. Her friend, a driver for her team, ends in first. Her lover ends the race in third.

Unfortunately, team obligations come first. She sends Lando a text with her love and congratulations. She tells him she will see him back at the hotel later for post reace celebrations.

It feels like hours until she's dragging her tired bones back to Lando's room. Giving to regard to anyone who might be looking. She was covered up, sure, but she wasn't necessarily being as discreet as normal.

The welcome she gets from Lando is cold and distant. Which is odd, considering he made podium today. She greets him with a big smile and a warm hug. Lando simply shrugs her off and goes back to whatever he was doing before she got there.

She takes off her shoes and jacket. Her Ferrari polo is 1still on her body. Something about it has Lando glaring at her.

"Please tell me what's going on. You're scaring me a little." She says, though the last part is more of a mumble.

Lando sighs and finally looks at her completely. "Maybe - I might be a little jealous."

She searches her brain for what could've made him jealous. Only to find confusion and frustration at not remember what she might have done to cause this.

This time, Lando drags her to bed with him. "I saw you celebrating Charles, and I wanted it to be me."

She nods in understanding. The pieces are falling into place now. "Mm sorry Lan, didn't mean to make you upset."

"No, it's not your fault. I know you have to do team things first. It's just hard not to be jealous when my beautiful girlfriend is celebrating another."

She taps her chin in consideration. "Maybe I can celebrate you now?" She smirks.

"What do you have in mind?" Lando plasters a cheey smile on his face. He definitely knows what she has in mind.

It may not be a winners celebration yet. But when he gets there, you better believe he will be making the whole world jealous with his girl."

[bitchesgate3]

Disclaimer: I have not romanced Minthara nor have I fully played the Dark Urge.

One thing I've experienced whilst having Minthara in my party since Moonrise is that there feels like there are narratively TWO Mintharas. And the Durge break up makes sense for one and not the other.

This 1st Minthara: Upon rescuing Minthara, all your initial conversations are deeply emotional. And later ones at camp are so deeply insightful that her maturity and experience compared to the other companions really stands out.

She understands the plots going on and the subterfuge and conspiracy. She reflects on her experiences with the Absolute, her understanding of the Chosen 3, her gratitude about being saved by Tav, her time under Orin's thrall, and gives us glimpses into the emotions that run through all these experiences.

How does a merciless woman grapple with being shown mercy? Her specifically. Not Dror Ragzlin. Not Priestess Gut. But her - singled out - for mercy?

This Minthara feels like she makes sense of these experiences for herself, to find a life to carve out on her own - integrated with her indomitable spirit. She is a dynamic and nuanced character and makes her a must-have companion for me on ANY playthrough.

However, another Minthara exists.

Minthara is most likely intended to be Chaotic Evil. She comes across as Lawful at times, but I think she was de facto made to be compatible with any type of evil, hence she must be chaotic. As opposed to Lae'zel who with Lawful Evil and disapproves if you are dishonorable in some way.

Astarion in EA was more overtly Chaotic Evil leaning Neutral Evil, and probably more conventionally chaotic because some of what he approved of felt like evil for shits and giggles. Following his whims and entertainment.

Minthara on the other hand is certainly calculated by comparison. She understands that seeding disorder is a way to destabilize an existing power in order to obtain it for one's self. This knowledge of undermining pairs extremely well with the overarching mindflayer plot. So while she may inevitably seek more secure power for herself, her ambient dialogue options encourage chaotic evil in this way.

And that's where this 2nd Minthara character comes in. She is the only companion that consistently disapproves of every "good" aligned decision the other companions make. She encourages you to make deals with Gortash and the Emperor (THE master manipulators), and has all these big plans for world domination right out the gate that she sort of assumes you're on board with.

The most egregious thing for me is that she grants approval for the silliest evil actions in the game.

It's clear to me that being opportunistically evil, selfish, and self-serving makes sense for a character like Minthara who utilizes chaos and fear for her own goals, but I find that because she is the only character who could possibly align that way, Larian gives her EVERY possible [calculated] chaotic evil approval that comes up.

So this 2nd Minthara ends up saying the most contrived, cartoonishly evil dialogue responses that really breaks immersion because it feels as if she's only saying that because she's the only companion who can.

That being said, I don't mind this "2nd Minthara"/Chaotic Evil Minthara existing and actually being a part of her character (because clearly this is intended and part of the authors' vision), but when the 1st Minthara seems to hint at possessing divergent thought while this 2nd Minthara seems stuck in her ways, I can't merge the two entities as the same one.

I actually think the game needs to add flags similar to Gale and the Crown where the more you agree with Minthara on her disapproving of the companions defying their dominators/approving when they align with them, only then you will get the Durge break up if you defy yours.

Just adding those flags - not even adding new content - would be an easy fix and I think would help justify why these two Minthara's even exist.

[multi-fandomedfreak]

I loovveeee your Connor headcannons!! Soooo.. maybe Connor introducing us to Hank and his Jericho friends like all cutesy. He would be so nervous but I just love himmmm. I am obsessed with the 'meeting their family' trope till I dieeeee

:)

Authors note: This is such a cute request I’m in loovveee

Paring(s): Connor x Reader

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️ : noneee

🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙

-Connor is suuuper nervous

-Even though it was 100% his idea to introduce you to Hank and his Jericho friends

-But most definitely not because he’s ashamed of you or anything

-Poor dudes just nervous that the tension between humans and androids would still be there

-Plus he’d never forgive himself if he got someone he cared about hurt (whether that he u or his friends)

-But all it takes is a reassuring squeeze of your hand and suddenly the unease he was feeling subsided enough for him to go through with it

-With Hank it was easy introducing you

-He obviously had that gruff exterior to him but he took a liking to you almost immediately

-To be honest Hank and you hung out more that day than you did with Connor

-He was kinda watching with a mixture of being offended and content (Connor: 🥲&☺️)

-(Hank may or may not have started calling u his daughter-in-law ((as a joke))…maybe)

-After that Connors more at ease when he introduces you to his Jericho buddies

-Markus, who’s usually so calm and collected, is actually struggling to contain his joy from the thought of a human-Android relationship

-Markus and u are besties now

-Connor, probably: Why’s everyone stealing her 🥲🥲

-After introducing you to Simon and Josh, Connor starts to wonder why he was ever hesitant to introduce you in the first place

-Well…at least until North comes along

-Don’t get me wrong, North doesn’t hurt nor insult you in anyway

-Her trust just takes a little more effort to earn and for good reason

-Connor was really starting to worry it might be a problem since she didn’t seem to approve of you

-but little did he know you made plans to hang out with her next week after a while of talking with her lol

-And even though it was ur irresistible y/n charm that made his friends like you

-It was also because Connor could. not. shut. up. about you

-Before any of this he was already hyping you up and talking about you any chance he got

-So it was a team effort really lol

-By the end of the day, both of your guys’ social battery’s were drained (Connors literal battery too) I think I’m so funny

-So ya’ll just plopped down together in your shared bed and cuddled till you fell asleep

[zepskies]

Hello hun! 😊

Okay, since I'm still on hold up here 🙈, I thought I send you a question.

How do you find a plot for your storys? What get's your inspiration going or what does spark you to make it a WIP?

So interested to hear how it works for you. 😁

Hey there, lovely!! 💜

Aww still waiting on Tracker to come out for you, huh? Almost there, right? 😅

But thank you for this question! The lovely @luci-in-trenchcoats asked me a similar one not too long ago in this ask, so my answer will be similar on some things.

⚡ Getting inspiration for stories:

Initially, my imagination always gets sparked by the "What If" question. Here are a few examples:

"What if Soldier Boy could be redeemed?" (Break Me Down - Soldier Boy x Reader)

"What if Dean Winchester had a Latina girlfriend?" (Midnight Espresso - Dean x Plus-sized Latina!Reader)

"What if Dean was a firefighter?" (Smoke Eater - Firefighter!Dean x Reader)

"What if Dean met his soulmate in season 1?" (Never Say Goodbye - Dean x Soulmate!Reader)

"What if Russell Shaw set his sights on his sister's best friend?" (Every Second Counts - Russell Shaw x Reader)

"What if you had a messy past you were running from, just like the new sheriff in town?" (Take Me Home - Beau Arlen x Reader)

You get the idea. 😂

✍🏽 Developing the plot:

After that, where I draw ideas for the plot depends on the kind of story I'm writing. And for that, I'm a big advocate of:

"Write what you know."

"Write what you can research."

"Write what you're interested in."

"Write what you've never tried to do before (but may secretly want to)."

Again, a couple of examples...

Break Me Down:

With BMD, I already had a loose concept in Checkerboard, with the reader working surveillance at Supe Affairs. It would paint her and Soldier Boy (Ben) as enemies from the start. "Enemies to lovers" was a trope I had never written before, but I thought it was a fun challenge, besides the obvious one of attempting to "redeem" Soldier Boy lol.

In general, I'm a sucker for the gruff, devil-may-care, rough exterior guy who only becomes soft for his girl. 😂

More practically though, I drew from the source material a bit for the Black Noir twist (the comics), and also from my love of Smallville for some of the superhero plot aspects. I also knew that if the reader was going to eventually give Ben a chance and see the humanity underneath, she would need time to do it. So what better way than with an accidental kidnapping? 😅

And somehow it became this quasi- Beauty & the Beast storyline that developed into Ben and the reader saving one another, in more ways than one. 💚

Smoke Eater:

With this story, I had several influences that helped me develop the plot. I have a deep and abiding love for cop and medical procedurals like Law & Order, House MD, and Chicago PD, but also for Chicago Fire in particular. (Also my uncle was a firefighter.) That helped me create Firehouse 25 and decide which canon characters I wanted to pull into the narrative.

It was my first ever full AU as well, so I drew a lot from the SPN canon S1-2 storyline to create the overarching murder mystery/the string of arsons. I was also very much impacted from stories my friends had told me of their experiences with sexual harassment, which is unfortunately where the Nick storyline came in.

And I actually drew a lot from my own experience with grief and loss in that story. Specifically in the challenges the reader faces with her family (with Dean's help). I wasn't conscious of it at the time, but after I wrote the initial drafts and started editing each chapter, I realized just where I was drawing from for that storyline. 💙

All that to say, that's a snapshot into my process from ideation to plotting! It's not always easy when you hit those difficult beats in a story, whether it's grief and loss, trauma and PSTD, or just the difficulties of making complex plot lines connect.

But overall, I do my best to have fun. If I'm not having fun, then why am I writing? 😘

Anyway. 😂 Thank you so much for this question, my friend! @jessjad I'm pretty sure this is way more than you wanted to hear, but I so appreciate you for asking about my writing process! 💗