#AGAIN. ANOTHER gem from the drafts

[ikosburneraccount]

thorne is a whitino who would pronounce gringo as grinko and im sick of him.

[linddzz]

I am slamming that validation button like a rodent wanting more sugar water so here's more mostly rough draft Jayvik.

A continuation of the nicknames fic. More science dorks being dorks, this time greatly featuring some seriously questionable boundaries between totally normal lab colleagues, and much more briefly featuring Viktor being so horny it makes him stupid. Also appearing is Jayce Talis, ADHD King and allusions to Viktor's past slut era. Both fics are a sort of preview chapter in the bigger thing @amahhi and I are working on!

Thank you to @avelera for planting the idea of platonically dubious scritches in my head, and for being a constant sounding board!

Rating: PG

Pair: Jayvik pre-relationship

----

It continues to be surprising, how not surprising everything is when it comes to Jayce.

A week into the partnership, and that initial bright thrill of something new has not dulled in the slightest. Nor has the perfectly ordinary, easy comfort that he feels with Jayce. The un-remarkability of this calm is what makes it remarkable. With Jayce, there is none of the discomfort of dealing with another person. None of the abrasive tension that arises when Viktor must face other people as distinct personalities which he must contend with, instead of the larger concepts of People. People as an idea have problems that he can solve, whose suffering he can reduce without any needs for interaction causing issues.

But Jayce functions outside of these issues Viktor often finds himself in. Jayce slots into a space Viktor hardly knew existed, like there had always been this jagged edge to him that, to his great surprise, was actually part of a puzzle that Jayce had the other half to.

Past experience would have him expecting that, with time, the shine would wear off. The glow would dim. He would learn all the little faults and human contradictions of Jayce and would grow to feel that jagged tension return. Spending hours upon hours each and every day for a solid week with him have revealed Jayce’s little foibles, yet not one has grown into a frustration. In actuality, Viktor has had nothing but further data points to add weight to his newly forming thoughts of destiny and its relation to himself and Jayce. For each little fault and lacking Jayce has, Viktor can help. He can, perhaps, be the puzzle piece that returns the favor to fit neatly into Jayce's life.

For example, Jayce can grow blind to his surroundings, his mind too caught in their work. Viktor had assumed that the apartment was in the state he first found it in due to an explosive force of arcane power. He still thinks that, but he has learned that this great force was not the struck gem amplifying and reflecting the kinetic force aimed at it to exponential levels, but Jayce himself. He often forgets his keys, or his mugs, or his pencils behind an ear, his goggles on his head, his tools, everything but his journal really.

It was the third time that he left his keys in the lab (on top of twice that he came in groaning that he had locked himself out of his temporary housing), that Viktor realized what the pattern was, and that he could provide a solution.

Jayce had more important things to focus his mind on, so it was both useless and counterproductive to adjust Jayce’s behavior or habits so he could track the little necessities of life. Fortunately, Viktor is well practiced on keeping track of what he needs to. It’s a skill that was refined when he first used it to avoid detection in the Academy, and then even further developed as Professor Heimerdinger’s assistant. When Jayce left his keys behind again, the answer was simple and obvious. They were already missing from Jayce’s person, so Viktor simply took them to the sort of establishment in the lanes that would never ask any questions, but would always make a perfect copy of any keys brought to them.

Jayce’s keys were neatly returned to him, and Viktor took no small delight in waiting for the next time Jayce smacked his forehead as they left for the day, realizing that he had once again locked himself out of his rooms, to reveal his backups. There was a brief moment, where Jayce stared at the keys hanging from Viktor’s finger, when he worried in a flash that this was not something a friend or colleague should do, that he had overstepped in some way. Then Jayce snorted with his grin, called Viktor brilliant if a little terrifying, but mostly brilliant, and everything was perfect.

The key was only for Jayce’s temporary rooms in the Academy housing, but Viktor could make another set once the apartment repairs were complete, even if it seems wasteful to have Jayce eventually move out of the building that Viktor lives in.

Jayce is also wonderful at taking notes for his work, but less skilled at going back to reorganize or refine those notes. His notes are exemplary, even with the little flair of him signing every single page, but it leads to problems.

These problems are their current struggle in the cramped space of their semi-lab at some odd hour of the night. Viktor stands and contemplates the board crowded with copies of Jayce’s notes, additional observations both have about that first successful arcane spell, and Viktor’s little chalked notes next to clusters of paper denoting what sections of an article each goes to. Behind him, Jayce is not exactly pacing, which would require repeating of one path, but he is in a constant state of muttering movement with occasional bursts of frustration over paperwork.

Because they can make a fully stable arcane frame that affects the gravity within the dean’s office, but that means nothing to the academy if it is not properly written and submitted for review. They are on their fourth draft of the paper, and the initial excitement over being published has dwindled with every draft that has been returned with Heimerdinger’s cheerful blue ink slashed across the pages. One of Jayce’s faults, Viktor is finding, is that he does not take such things gracefully. It takes the second set of revisions for Viktor to realize that pride is not the primary hurt that Jayce feels, but the thread of anxiety Viktor had seen woven through Jayce’s journal. The need to prove himself, and the fear of impending failure at every turn.

“How else do they want me to explain it?” Jayce groans, and Viktor does not need to turn around to know that the perfectly clean cut hair is likely sticking out in every direction.

“I was hoping the Professor would not have edited “crank it” so quickly out of the methodology.” Viktor muses. That was his greatest disappointment. “I am deeply curious on how he expects us to find half of the citations he has requested for this entirely new scientific field.”

“And when the Academy insists there aren’t more tomes on mage lore!” Jayce snarls.

“We will have to expand outside of the Academy in the future.” Viktor agrees, turning a little to once again look over the taped up pages of their latest draft and what blue marks are where. “However, I think a more concrete description of the runic array you conducted into the stabilizer may be our ticket past many of the other issues he has found.”

Instead of grumblings or more huffed complaints, a heavy weight thumps onto Viktor’s shoulder. He pauses, realizing immediately that it is Jayce’s head that has slumped against him, and Jayce’s impressive body heat against his back indicating that there is, at most, a few inches of space between them.

“I don’t know how.” Jayce groans, but it’s less petulant and quieter, almost fearful. “I don’t know how to describe what I did.”

“Hm.” Is all Viktor can say in that exact moment. He is, briefly, distracted by Jayce’s hair brushing against his jaw with the strong scent of some sort of…of fancy wood. It is not an unpleasant scent.

“Sorry.” Jayce mutters. “Sorry, I know you’re not touchy I just- gimme a second I gotta think.”

“That’s perfectly alright.” Viktor assures him. It is alright. Jayce is correct that Viktor is not nearly as tactile as Jayce is, but he is at this point well acquainted with Jayce’s propensity towards touch. His own lack of aversion or any other strong reaction to it was one of the earliest surprises in their partnership. “Take your time gathering your thoughts. This is a far less dire circumstance than that first stabilization was.”

“You told me there was no pressure then.” Jayce mumbles, already sounding a little less miserable.

“That is because I was lying.” Viktor hums, delighted at the snort he gets, and the way he can feel Jayce’s movement from the small laugh.

“Seriously V, I just remembered that night, remembered what the mage looked like and what all the magic looked like and I…did the same thing. But it wasn’t the same thing, because no one got teleported. I don’t even know if what I did was a spell.” Viktor thinks he can feel the resonance of Jayce’s voice through his core, spreading in waves from the point where Jayce’s forehead presses down at the top edge of his shoulder.

The distraction is not a true distraction however, because Viktor catches something in what Jayce is muttering. “You can remember how he moved, what the runes he summoned looked like?”

“I remember everything about that night.”

“Yes but-” There is something here. He has already seen Jayce's remarkable skill at memorizing things that Jayce deems worth memorizing. If Jayce says he can remember it, Viktor does not doubt it. “The order of them, could you remember that?”

The head on Viktor’s shoulder shifts as Jayce rolls it slightly to one side, but he doesn’t move it in the other to shake his head. It’s a contemplative movement. “Maybe…I think so. Let me...ok this is going to sound so weird but can I just uh, hang out here for a second? It helps me think.”

“By all means.” There’s something particularly marvelous about becoming a stabilizing agent for Jayce’s mind, he would be a fool not to agree to the opportunity. As Jayce calibrates himself, Viktor once again considers their paper, the problems it has given them. Jayce had moved the dial of the stabilizing framework like a conductor, with precision. Heimerdinger wants written out theories and explanations and citations, but what if they could instead find a formula. What if the precision of Jayce’s input could be broken down into components and quantified…

His free hand moves with habitual lack of awareness to where it would usually begin fiddling with his own hair, and it takes a few moments for him to notice the slight change in both texture and location of the hair he is rolling between his fingertips. Even then, he only notices because Jayce’s head becomes an even heavier weight on his shoulder.

“Ah, apologies.” He says, stopping the movement, thinking this might be a thing to feel awkward about. “Force of habit, it helps me think.”

“No, s’fine.” Jayce says, voice thicker in a way that is dangerous for Viktor’s higher thought processes. “It’s nice, actually. I don’t mind.”

After a second, Viktor continues. This time he notes the finer texture of Jayce’s hair. It’s very soft, sleek almost, with traces of the gel he uses to style it making sections of stiffness that crunch away under Viktor’s fingers.

“You smell nice.” Jayce mumbles.

A response to that requires some consideration. Viktor…considers.

There was a time, not all that long ago, where he would have leapt on someone with Jayce’s build telling him he smelled good while standing a scant inch away from Viktor. He would have assumed that the intent was for him to leap. Viktor is more discriminating than he used to be about sexual escapades, mostly because he began finding the nights spent on dalliances not worth the distractions, but even he can admit that if Jayce had put a head on his shoulder and told him he smelled good a week ago, Viktor would know exactly how to respond. It would have involved leaning back against that broad heat, turning lightly twirling fingers into a fist in Jayce’s hair, then gleefully seeing where things went from that point.

But now…

Jayce fits in like a missing puzzle piece. Whatever Jayce is, it is not one of Viktor’s brief encounters. Viktor would want to tell Jayce he didn’t need to get his apartment repaired, when Viktor lives much closer to the lab and things would be much more efficient if they lived together. Viktor can be wildly in love with this man in every definition of love that exists, but romantic or sexual entanglements (and if there is one, Viktor very much wants the other as well) often end. In Viktor’s personal experience, they ended before morning, and that was only considering the sexual entanglement. Heightened intimacy was desperately tempting, but it risked a greater end to the entire partnership. Even if nothing ever started, a proposition alone could forever poison what there already is.

Jayce is tactile in a very casual way. He flirts with everything that smiles at him for more than three seconds, and there has been nowhere near enough data for Viktor to calculate the risk of losing that side of the puzzle, or how much of a reward he would gain from taking that risk.

“Thank you.” He says eventually, slow and still considering. Then, because that feels incomplete and awkward, he adds, “I use soap.

Jayce snorts again, the head on Viktor’s shoulder shaking as Jayce’s body shakes with quiet laughter. Viktor knows he is shaking with it, because every other hitch up of Jayce’s shoulders causes a tiny sway forward, which bumps Jayce’s chest against Viktor’s back. Each of these millisecond bits of contact makes Viktor once again run through the considerations of risk versus reward in relation to getting his hands on that chest. Under the shirt. He would need both hands. There is an awful lot of chest, after all. Maybe both hands and his mouth. Definitely all three. It really is so much chest.

He takes the fantastic effort to rein his mind away from Jayce’s prodigious chest, even more effort to pull it further from contemplating the amount of shoulder matching that chest and what the rest of the torso probably looks like. There should be a response in kind to Jayce’s. A friendly compliment to return a compliment.

“Your hair is very soft.” He decides, as that seems safe as well as relevant to Jayce's compliment. Jayce’s silent laughter turns into some small hitched sounds that near a squeak, which means that Viktor’s thoughts are successfully pulled away from the sexual distractions, but only into the romantic sort.

“Thank you.” Jayce says with a dreadful mimic of Viktor’s accent, which only strengthens Viktor’s resolve to not take any uninformed risks that could lead to him losing this, “I use a leave-in conditioner.”

Viktor’s hand drops from Jayce’s hair, and he turns his head as much as he can to shoot a baffled look at the top of Jayce’s head.

“Why the fuck would you leave in a hair conditioner?” He asks, affronted. “Conditioner already feels dreadful. It’s heavy and slimy, absolutely horrendous.”

Jayce shoots up (which is a shame) so that he can lean around and give Viktor a look of equal outrage. “What does- Viktor it’s a different thing from- do you not use conditioner!?”

“Of course not. It feels terrible, I already said that.” Jayce makes a pained sound, and Viktor waves him off. “Enough of that nonsense. It is a waste of time. I have an idea.”

Jayce moves up next to him, facing Viktor with an intent eagerness. “What is it?”

“You are going to describe to me exactly what you remember. Each rune, each movement, as much as you can.” Another thought occurs to him, and Viktor snatches his cane from where it’s leaning on the board so he can turn to the inert stabilizing frame sitting on a table. “And I want you to dial in the stabilizer as you did in Heimerdinge’s lab as you do so. I will record everything. I believe there may be something we can measure, some sort of constant in the timing and the runes used, a way to-”

“We can make it an equation.” Jayce interrupts, breathless and awed, knowing what Viktor is thinking without Viktor needing to explain any of it. He so deeply wishes Heimerdinger had let them keep “crank it” in the paper. “Something concrete.”

“Precisely. The runes are instructions, a code. Perhaps the clockwise and counter-clockwise cycles of them are additional instructions. We can use your stable field as a baseline to begin working on a formula.”

“We can give them a solid theorum.” Jayce is already rushing to the stabilizing frame, even recreating the hunched over pose he had that wondrous night. “Okay, tell me when you’re ready.”

Any thoughts on conditioner or smells are gone. In the future, it will be as common as breathing for them to be drawn together when they need help thinking. Jayce’s head will always find Viktor’s shoulder, and Viktor will learn that playing with Jayce’s hair further settles his restless mind and channels his thoughts towards solutions. Whatever else there is, the most important goal to further all other goals of Viktor’s life is to keep the partnership. In the partnership there is the work, the thrill. The endless infinitesimal ways they fit together, two pieces destined to find the other. In the moment, Viktor takes up his notes and marvels again on the nature of fate, of probability, and of magic.

[emmg]

Come the fuck on, yall. I need more of you with non-Mourn Watch Rooks to admit that Nevarra is a goddamn horror show wrapped in creepy-ass Victorian funeral porn of a country.

Where are my Rooks casually tripping balls on some knockoff LSD before yet another Mourn Watch party because their boo Emmrich asked them to come support him, and now they’re in the corner clutching their drink, sweating bullets because they KNOW, deep in their goddamn soul, that this isn’t a party. No, this is foreplay for some next-level Lovecraftian bullshit, and they’re about ten minutes away from making awkward eye contact with an eldritch horror that wants to vibe-check their sanity.

Where are my Rooks ugly-crying into their crusty-ass tear-stained pillow at 3 AM because another bony motherfucker just decided to show up uninvited to “politely” hand them some cryptic message about how Emmrich needs them right now. (Not you, Manfred, sweetie, you’re a goddamn gem, this is about your creepy-ass cousins who click when they move and smell like dead flowers.) And now they’re not only exhausted but pretty sure they’re hallucinating their teeth falling out.

Where are my Rooks absolutely fucking DONE with Nevarra’s eldritch shenanigans, about to call their therapist AND their lawyer because they’re one missed night’s sleep away from drowning themselves in one of those mystery-ass Necropolis pools that shouldn’t even exist. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to put a lake INSIDE A NECROPOLIS?!

Where are my Rooks drafting resignation letters because this eldritch-ass hellhole is on track to be their 13th reason? If the Necropolis decides to reshuffle itself one more time while they’re casually walking the halls, and they wake up in an open grave again? Fucking done. What is this shit?? Is this haunted feng shui?

Where are my Rooks who are this close to yeeting themselves into the afterlife and haunting Emmrich out of spite? (But yknow, lovingly)

[allfearstofallto]

The Sweetest Spoil of War

Yandere! Demon King Kirishima x Fem! Reader

Word count: 5k

Synopsis: a war ended with an unwilling marriage. The fighting ceases, but at the cost of your hand.

TW: Forced marriage, NSFW implications, size difference, mentions for Dub/Non Con, virgin! Reader, yandere/obsessive themes

AN: another one that has been sitting in the drafts for years!! But I finally finished this first part. Hopefully I'll have the second, more smutty part written up soon!!

A brush of blush across the cheeks. A swatch of color on the lower lip. Many swipes of a comb through your hair. The tightening of your bodice fixed your posture, and you were adorned with heavy jewels and rings. All the while, a celebration was happening outside.

It wasn’t a celebration you could see, you weren’t allowed to move a muscle, couldn’t even turn your head to look out the window, in fear that you may disrupt the many people who were spending their time making you beautiful. But it was one you could hear. As the maids picked and prodded at every part of your body, cleaning you here, applying makeup there, covering this, uncovering that, you listened to the happiness of the people. Your people. Well, technically not your people any more.

They popped fireworks and sang songs. Their cheers grew louder and louder as the minutes went by, as you got more and more dolled up. Street vendors loudly advertised their wares and you could hear children playing in the streets again. It was probably the first time they’d left their house in months, it was probably the first time it was safe enough to do so, they had every right to celebrate. But at what cost?

If they knew the price that was paid for their safety, the price they paid for freedom from the war, the war that they were losing, would they still cheer? Would they still dance and sing? Would the celebration still continue?

The price was you, of course. The second daughter of the King of the land and the gem of the nation, or so you were called. Good deeds came like second nature to you, they were as easy for you as breathing. The way you donated and volunteered was like nothing the royal family had seen. Your kindness was a tall tale spread around like wildfire and marriage proposals were in abundance for you. You were like a tourist attraction. Rather than coming to visit your country for sights, people would visit to meet you, as if you were some sort of celebrity.

Your nation was small, but what it lacked in land, it made up for in stocks and trade. It was a modest business that made more than enough money. But greed is a drug, one that your father was heavily addicted to. Expanding was a bad option, you always told him so, but your words fell on deaf ears, and as the farmers marched further and further upon land that wasn’t theirs, the true owners of it fought back.

For a year, your father insisted that the war with the rival nation could be won. You always wondered why he thought that. The land that he’d intruded on belonged to none other than the demon king himself, a man feared but rarely ever seen. His endeavors were like horror stories spread across the nation, and your tiny little country didn’t even have an official army. Rather, there were a few patriotic men who were sent off to fight first. There wasn’t much of them left to bury when they returned. Then who left was decided by draft. The first men were a warning for what was to come and everyone knew that. Moral dwindled when people began running away from their own country, rather than fighting for it.

Negotiations started when the supply chain got cut off by the demon king’s army and with a nation as small as yours, no other kingdoms were offering help. The talks were started through letters at first. Your father sat at his desk, lips in a tight grimace as he read the sheet of paper over and over again before writing his response in return. Things went on this way for months, the writing back and forth as war raged on right outside your door. Until the day he showed up.

You didn’t think that the demon king himself would come, but you watched out from your front door as the carriage pulled into the town. It was large and ornate, covered in shiny stones and what appeared to be bone as well. It was a mixture of the high class of the aristocrats and the barbarian ways of life of the demons. The hoofs of the horses clopped down the road and the carriage swayed ever so slightly side to side. The windows were covered so you couldn’t see him, but you knew he was in there.

The driver of the carriage himself was also a demon. A burly blond one with piercing, blood red eyes and horns like a ram. When he snarled at one of your citizens, you could see his teeth. They were sharp like the heads of arrows, like they could bite through the flesh of a mere human at any time. It made your skin run cold as you realized that all demons shared the same few traits, long nails, horns, and sharp teeth. You could only imagine what those natural advantages were doing against the measly weapons the army was given.

You could already feel your palms sweating as the carriage stopped in front of your castle. The entire family had to come out to greet guests, as were the rules, but all you wanted to do was slink back into your room and pray that the war would end naturally. And you weren’t the only one silently wishing to leave. You spared a glance out of your peripheral to the rest of the family and saw that they too stood stiffly, or did everything they could to avoid eye contact with the large carriage that casted an almost laughably ginormous shadow over your family.

The blond boy pulled at the reins of the horses, stopping them in front of the castle, before stepping down from his seat in front of the carriage. Even for a demon, his face was easy to read. He didn’t want to be here, and he most definitely didn’t want to have to be cordial. You could see the hatred for your father in his eyes, the way he wanted to just lunge at him and end things in this very spot, but he didn’t.

“His Highness, King Kirishima Ejiro,” he said almost sarcastically. Then he opened the door to the carriage behind him.

Big didn’t even begin to describe the man. He was humongous. Not only was he tall, but he was also thick with muscles and hands that looked like they could crush your skull with ease. You looked at him and you saw a demon. His hair was long and spiky, and unlike the companion he’d brought along who had curled horns, he stood straight up, only adding to his monstrous height.

The suit he was wearing was still adorned with demon-like paraphilia, bones and bottles filled with what you could only assume were potions. His scarred hands were covered in rings and the sly smile he gave your family showed you enough of his teeth to prove to you that you’d rather die than go near his mouth.

You didn’t know where to look, you could barely even think as he stood before you. His eyes weren’t red like his subordinate, rather, his were a beady, inky black color that scanned across your family. They were taking in every single sorrowful and fearful face, until they landed on you.

You felt your heart stop beating completely when he looked at you. Your breathing became shaky and you felt yourself about to lose consciousness from his gaze alone. Why was he still looking at you? The rest of the family only got a glance, but you, it seemed like he had to forcefully peel his own eyes away from you.

“You have a lovely family,” he said. His voice was deep, yet booming, it felt like your ankles were shaking, just from hearing him speak. If not for the fact that he scared the life out of you, you would’ve scoffed at him. A beautiful family that he was going to ignore when negotiations started. But maybe that was for the better.

He was led inside, following behind your father who was shaking in his boots. He had to duck to get through the door and his footsteps on the tile floor sounded more thunder cracking inside the walls of your home. He looked around with a strange look on his face, one that seemed almost enthusiastic, but that couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be happy while he was in enemy territory, not while he could easily be killed.

And that was the plan at first. Lure him in and have the army raid the palace, he’d be powerless since he expressed through his letters that he’d only be bringing one guard. Your father thought he was stupid or naive, but casting eyes upon him showed you that one guard was enough. Anything else would’ve been overkill.

They were in talks for what felt like a few mere moments and he was coming back down the stairs with a smile on his face. You’d long since hidden in your room to keep from having to entertain the blond demon that was sitting in your living room, but curiosity made you peek your head out when you head the door to the office open. Your father was aggressively shaking the demon king's hand, but you could see the horror in his face. There was sweat pooling on his forehead and he looked like he would throw up at any moment. You later found out why he looked that way.

At the dinner table that very night he announced that the war would be ending and the supply lines would open back up. There was a unanimous cheer from the family as you and your siblings argued over who would get to tell the people of the nation that they were free to roam the streets again. You were so ignorant. The way your father looked at you should’ve told you enough. It should’ve told you that the war wasn’t going to end with a trade or an apology, it was going to end with a wedding.

The fireworks continued to boom and crackle as they filled the night sky, while a little more blush was applied to your cheek. No one else in your family knew, they thought you were getting married to some commoner who you’d fallen in love with. Only you and your father knew the truth, and resent didn’t even begin to describe what you felt for him.

Your dress was too heavy, your hair was uncomfortable, you had to stand a certain way, or makeup would get on your collar and the entire look would be ruined. You looked beautiful, that’s what they said to you, but could they not see the hurt on your face? Or the fear? If they saw, they didn’t care, and you were guided down the stairs.

Past the home that you grew up in, the walls lined with family portraits, and your family themselves waiting for you at the bottom of the steps. Your mother was crying, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. When she found out the truth, she’d be crying for real. They were going to find out eventually, you knew they would, you just wished you could see the aftermath of it.

A carriage was waiting for you, one of your family’s own. Normally in an aristocratic wedding, the carriage from the family of the groom would be sent to pick up the bride, but the story your father spewed gave an explanation. The man you loved was too poor to even afford his own carriage, but love doesn’t know money. You scoffed, but held your tongue. If it were for the sake of your family and your country, you’d go along with it.

You would ride your family’s carriage into the forest, about halfways to the demon king’s palace, then you would switch into one of his. That way, your family wouldn’t catch on, that way, they didn’t have to watch in horror as you were given away to a demon, even though your father knew that they wouldn’t allow something like this, but he did it anyway.

It was an unpleasant ride. People rarely ever traversed through the forest so the carriage shook and jolted. You were getting farther and farther away from the noises of celebration, farther and farther away from your people. If only for one night, you would like to celebrate too, the war was a horror that you were living in as well after all.

You pressed your lips together to keep from crying. You’d already cried enough and you truly didn’t know him or how he’d respond to your tears. You spent hours sitting in that chair getting ready for him, what if he were the type to get angry if just one thing was off? If your make up was smudged or your eyes puffy, would he kill you where he stood? You held it in and pretended to be strong.

The carriage stopped and your door was opened, the second he did. The driver gave you a knowing look as he offered you his hand to help you step down. His fingers were cold, that’s all you could think about as you looked over to see the new carriage that you’d be riding in. The same one that had pulled the demon king into your family’s palace. Your heart sank as you realized that he might be in there. You weren’t ready to meet him up close, not yet.

The blond demon was here again, standing at the side of the carriage. Horses from the demon kingdom always felt much larger. Like they were eight foot tall monsters and not animals. You couldn’t believe you were focusing on the horses, you were trying to look at anything, anything, that would keep you from having to get into that carriage. But he was already opening the door and the carriage from your nation had already turned and pulled away, not even waiting for the transaction to be completed.

That felt like the final straw. Being left behind by one of your own and stuck with a demon. A demon who was obviously sick of waiting for you and who looked like he was just going to force you inside himself.

“The king doesn’t like waiting,” he said, gesturing towards the door. With a meek nod, you walked towards it. Dead leaves crunched beneath your feet and the sound of an owl made the entire ordeal more ominous.

You looked to the demon, then back to the carriage door. He didn’t expect you to go in by yourself, did he? Even in your home nation, the gentleman would offer the lady a hand and help boost her up the step, a boost that was much needed, since demons were naturally taller and the step was too high for you to even reach on your own.

“What is it now?” he grumbled, eyes having already practically rolled into the back of his head.

The step seemed as if it came up to your waist in height, yet he asked you what you needed. “I obviously can’t get up there by myself,” you spat, holding your hand out for his help. You’d never felt the skin of a demon before and honestly, you didn’t want to now, but there was no other choice. The deal had already been made.

He didn’t even pass a glance at your hand, stepping closer to you, he placed his large palms around your waist and hoisted you up with little effort. You tried not to squirm in his hold, afraid that he might drop you. Even for a moment, you were so high up, before you were placed into the carriage, with the door being slammed shut in your face.

The carriage began to move before you were even fully seated and you were thrown back. If this was the way the demon kingdom treated their royalty, you could only imagine what was going to happen to you. But you tried not to dwell on it. Your chest was already tight with fear and sweat was beginning to bead on your forehead.

This was it, you thought to yourself, even as you gazed out the window, all you could think was that this would be the end of you. All alone, all by yourself. You wondered what your siblings were doing, what your mother was doing, if anyone was even thinking about you at all, of if the celebration was just too much for them to care.

The carriage swayed and thumped against the ground for what felt like hours. The pretty dress you were in had grown a bit damp from your sweat and you tried to fan yourself. You were nervous. Hot and nervous and all you could do was listen to the hooves of the horses as they hit the ground and wait for your eventual marriage.

Then everything stopped. Of course the carriage driver demon was rough with this as well and you were thrown off of the seat and onto the plush floor of the vehicle. You barely had a moment to catch your breath and regain your bearings before the door swung open quickly, making the whole carriage shake from the force.

Still on the floor, still a bit sweaty, with fearful eyes, you came face to face with the demon king. His teeth were once again what you noticed, those big, sharp teeth that were held in a mouth that was grinning at you cheerfully. He looked overjoyed to see you, even in your crumpled up, terrified state.

“By the gods,” he whispered quietly while still looking at you all over. It seemed like his eyes couldn't focus on one place. Your face, your hair, the swell of your breast, the small of your waist, from your heel clad feet, to your hair that was put into an ornate updo, he couldn't get enough, “You're even more beautiful the second time around.”

You were shivering. God you were shivering like you were freezing. Your stomach was in your ass and your heart felt like it was going to leap from your chest. All that time, all the time you spent being picked and prodded at in that chair, being made to look good for him, all that time and it just now hit you what was happening to you. It started before you could even think to stop yourself and while he looked you over like you were a gift from heaven itself, you began to cry.

Tears ran down your pretty cheeks, smearing your makeup in their wake and you started to hic and sob. You had no control over it and the way his smile fell when you began to weep, made you cry even harder. You were going to die by this demon's hands. You were going to die because your father, the coward that he was, sold you off.

Kirishima turned to look at his subordinate, his face a mix of emotions. So quickly, you could barely see it, he grabbed the blond male by the collar of his shirt and lifted him, “I thought I told you to make sure she was taken care off,” he growled those words between those closed sharp teeth.

“I did,” the blond male muttered back. His tone, his attitude, even the way he was looking at the demon king was disrespectful. He didn't seem the least bit afraid or even bothered by the fact that he was being scolded. If anything, he looked annoyed.

“Then why is she crying, Kastuki?” He spoke the words slowly before dropping the man back down onto the ground. He landed with a thud, but didn't protest, “I've told you about your driving. Humans are fragile! They can't handle something like that!”

He merely scoffed and rose from the ground, “Then do it yourself next time.”

Kirishima opened his mouth to speak, but stopped before he said anything. Instead, he focused on your trembling form, still sitting on the carriage floor, “Are you alright, darling?”

He tried his hardest to be gentle with his voice, to be quieter so not to scare you. He reached a hand out to you, but you flinched away from it. You didn't know what to say or even what to do. A part of you felt like the second you left this carriage, it would all be real, you'd really be engaged to this demon, you'd really be with him for the rest of your life.

He tilted his head at you, trying to give you a reassuring smile to the best of his ability, “I'm sorry if Katsuki scared you, but I promise nothing will hurt you.” He reached into the carriage and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you closer to the door with ease, it was like you weighed nothing to him, “but we should really get you inside the castle and into something more comfortable.”

Your body was tense and you tried to think of what to do. A way out of this. How would you be able to run away from a demon, in the whole nation of demons? Would you even be able to go home? Would you getting away make a war start?

You couldn't even think about it to yourself, couldn't even respond before you were picked up by him and held against his firm chest. He was so much bigger than you, so much taller, being in his arms made it feel like you were fifty feet above the ground and all you could do was shiver.

He carried you into the castle. It looked nothing like your own home. It was more worn down, but somehow it was bigger. The tallest tower looked like it was piercing the clouds and the windows were the size of the doors you had back home. You sniffled and sobbed the whole time you were carried up the stairs, and when he finally reached out to open the front door, you finally managed to say something.

“P-please,” you managed to stutter out between your pathetic little hics.

“Oh, so she can speak,” he replied back a little too happily, “and here I was thinking you were mute. That wouldn't have bothered me though, you're still gorgeous.”

More tears ran down your face as you tried to regulate breathing, to get more words out, to hopefully beg for return home before the marriage was consummated, “My father…he…he made a mistake. I didn't want this,”

He kept walking into the castle as you spoke, the sound of his feet hitting the floor echoed off the walls. You were brought to a day room where he sat you down on a rather large couch, so big your feet just barely managed to touch the ground. He kneeled in front of you while you sat and cupped your cheek in one of his large hands, the more he touched you, the harder you seemed to cry, soaking his thick fingers with tears. He knew you were scared of him, but he just couldn't stay away.

“I know you didn't want this,” he cooed, his breath hitting your face, “I wanted this.”

Before you could speak, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was wet and suffocating and all you could do was sit there limply as he engulfed your mouth with his, tasting every inch of your mouth with his tongue.

He tasted of meat and alcohol, typical dishes for demons who were celebrating and his grip on you was firm. His hand had slithered down from your cheek to your shoulder, then to your waist. You couldn't pull away if you wanted to. Your strength and size was nothing compared to him, just one of his hands was almost enough to completely hold your back. You'd hurt yourself more if you fought back.

When he pulled back, you were panting, breathless. Your first kiss and it was so brutish and even worse than that, it was taken by a demon. Your eyes were still wet with tears and lips moist with saliva, but he was looking at you so longingly. The way you makeup was running from the sweat and tears, your hair disheveled from the kiss, the way your chest was rising and falling, he thought you were more enticing now than ever before.

“Such beauty doesn't exist amongst the demons,” he whispered against your lips, threatening to kiss you again, “I could've slaughtered everyone in that tiny, little kingdom, you know, and I was planning on it. Until I saw you.”

He traced up your back to where the buttons for your dress began. You could feel him fiddling with them, trying to get them to pull apart, but his fingers were too big and his nails too sharp. As more time went by with him unable to access your body, he grew frustrated until he just ripped the dress apart in the back. The fabric gave way easily to him. It was probably no harder than ripping paper.

“Your father didn't hesitate when I asked for you,” his hand was warm, almost hot, against your bare back as he kept ripping the fabric away, “a part of me was angry about that. His own daughter, his blood. He gave you away so easily. But I was also ecstatic. Even if you don't want me, I want you. I know how you feel about me, how I as a demon scare you…” the dress was pulled forward, over your shoulders, but he stopped there, “The war may be over on paper, but if you ask for it, I can kill him.”

You gasped, “Why would I want that? Why would anyone want that?” You were shouting and you didn't know why. Maybe it was because of how scared you were. Or how easily he mentioned killing someone. Or how a part of you actually wanted it. A small voice in your head wasn't upset about the idea of him killing your father for putting you in this predicament, and that scared you.

“He gave you away,” he stated plainly, “You have every right to be angry. Angry at him for giving you away,” he pulled the dress down so that it was sitting around your waist. His tongue, that large, hot tongue licked down from your neck to your now exposed breast, making your breath hitch, “and angry at me for taking you.”

“You could still give me back,” You begged quickly, hoping that maybe if he was showing some empathy, some care for what you were feeling, he would let you go.

He shook his head and gave you a knowing look, “I wish I could, but I know how you humans work.” He didn't hesitate to reach his hand up beneath the ripped fabric and tulle that was once the skirt of your dress, “you wouldn't be wed again anyways, not after what I'm gonna do to you.”

Your sobs grew even louder at the words. Despite your abstinence, you knew the implications of those words, you knew what he meant. Despite your lack of experience, you knew why he was spreading your legs and easing his body between them, you knew why he was ripping away at your bloomers, exposing your wet core to the cool air.

“I told myself I'd wait till the night of our wedding, but I fear myself slipping with need for you,” this “need” made itself known when he began to grind his hips against you, the fabric of his pants spreading your lips and rubbing directly against your clit, “They sent you here looking like this, and I'm supposed to contain myself?” he bit his lips with those sharp teeth of his, gripping the fabric of the couch so hard that he was ripping holes in it.

“I won't take you without your permission,” he stated, but he was still grinding his clothed cock against you,like his mouth and his body were two completely different entities. He was speaking one thing, but actively doing the opposite.

You whimpered as you felt him, your eyes just leaking tears. You couldn't speak a word, your labored breathing wouldn't let you. Your chest was heaving as you tried to open your mouth, with only sobs and pleads coming out. Instead you just shook your head, praying that that would be enough of him to stop.

Despite your begging he still pressed his lips to yours once more in another passionate kiss. This time he felt even more roughr than the last. Was this a game for him? You thought to yourself. Did he get off on watching you beg and plead, just to take you anyways.

But he stopped nonetheless and pulled away. It seemed like he was straining to even do that, the way he was looking back at you like he could pounce on you again. He let out a shaking, sigh and clenched his fist together before stepping back and finally giving you space away from his large form and body heat.

“The wedding will be held in three days,” he said with a forced smile. He picked up a blanket from the other couch and tossed it over you, covering your modesty. You held onto that blanket as if it were your life line, hiding your nude body behind it as you shivered and looked at him, “I can guarantee I'll stop now, but I'm not so sure about then.”

And with that, he was gone. He closed the door to the day room, leaving you alone in this large demonic mansion with only the ticking of a clock as your company. You were too afraid to move, too afraid of what was to come next. You didn't know where he wanted you to go or even if he wanted you to move at all.

But you did know what he wanted from you, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

[aphroditelovesu]

Since requests are closing in a few days, I just wanted to put another one in. No rush go get it done of course!

I want to request a oneshot/reaction where Alexander gives reader a really, REALLY expensive necklace. Maybe it's a wedding present, a just because present , or something following the birth of the twins. You can decide what you want to do with that 😁!

Also, I keep picturing a necklace made of opal??? Not only is it a stunning gem stone, but it was also thought to be the tears of Zeus in ancient Greece, which would be an interesting tie to Alexander. Again, it's just a suggestion. You can use whatever gemstone you want!

Thanks, and take care ❤️❤️❤️!

--O-

❝ 📜— lady l: this had been sitting in my drafts for a while and I finally decided to write it. I got a little carried away, so it's a little big, but I hope you like it and if you want to order anything else, feel free, anon! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: none, just fluff and very soft!Alexander.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

❝word count: 1,308.

Alexander wanted to find something to give you. Something expensive and extravagant, something that would leave you impressed.

He felt like he owed you that. Not only had you given birth to his children, but you were loved by him and he wanted to please you. He thought of several options: a horse, silk clothes, food and even drink. He still wasn't sure what you might like.

Until he had an idea after talking to Hephaestion. He was the one who gave you the idea of giving you a necklace made from a special and rare gem. And he knew it was the right choice to make.

It was no easy task to get a merchant to have the necklace he liked and deemed worthy of you to wear around your delicate neck, but after the fifth try with a different merchant, he finally knew what your gift should be. He decided to gift you with an opal necklace, a jewel that reflected the beauty and mystery of his passion.

It would change color and he would know that it would look beautiful and graceful on your neck. Everything about you was beautiful and graceful, so the necklace would only stand out on you and no one else.

This opulent piece was adorned with the most dazzling opals that could be found in the entire Empire. Each stone sparkled with vibrant colors, dancing like the aurora borealis reflected in the starry night. The necklace was a unique treasure, a harmony of opalescent hues, displaying hues of celestial blue, emerald green, and royal purple.

The merchant who sold it told him a story about the necklace and it was this story that convinced him to buy it. According to the Persian merchant, legend said that opals were gifts from star spirits, who bestowed their blessings on those who used them with love and wisdom. The necklace was not just a piece of jewelry, but a source of magical power. Its colors and reflections were believed to contain the essence of nature, connecting the wearer to the spiritual realms and bringing fortune and protection.

Whoever owned the opal necklace was seen as a keeper of ancient secrets, an heir to the ancient magic that flowed through the precious stones. It was said that opal possessed the ability to amplify intuition and creativity, allowing the wearer to see beyond the ordinary, opening doors to new possibilities and inspiration.

After this explanation, Alexander knew that this necklace must be yours. Not just because of your story, but because of who you were. From when you really came. No one was more worthy than you.

There was also another version of the story that convinced him to buy it. Knowing how religious Alexander was, the merchant also told him that the opal was made from the tears of Zeus. Long ago, at the beginning of Greek civilization, when the gods walked among mortals, Zeus, the mighty king of the gods, shed tears of joy and sorrow over human fate. These tears, upon touching the earth, transformed into radiant stones known as opals, carrying within them the duality of emotions of the great god.

Thus was born the opal, a legendary gem forged by Zeus' own tears. Each stone was shaped from divine emotions, capturing the essence of heaven and earth. Its unique iridescence reflected not only the colors of the rainbow, but also the contrasting feelings of joy and sadness, hope and despair, harmonized in an eternal dance of light and shadow. Ancient sages believed that the necklace was not just a manifestation of beauty, but rather a link between mortals and the gods. It was said that whoever wore the opal necklace would be enveloped in the protection of Zeus and would have the divine wisdom to navigate life's challenges.

And maybe when little Aella grew up, he could give her a necklace similar to the one he chose for you.

He smiled at the thought and with the necklace inside a small wooden box with gold ornaments, he walked to the room you shared in the Babylonian palace. Straightening his posture, Alexander knocked on the door and after hearing a soft ''come in'', he opened the door and smiled widely when he saw you sitting in a padded chair with Aella in one arm and Cyrus in the other. He fell silent when he realized the twins were asleep.

You looked at him and smiled softly when you saw what he had in his hands. Alexander placed the box on a table next to the bed and approached you, carefully taking Cyrus in his arm. You smiled lovingly when you saw him cuddling the baby in his arms.

Whispering, Alexander says, ''I have something for you.''

You smiled and asked curiously, ''What is it?''

Alexander carefully picked up the box with the arm that wasn't swinging Cyrus and placed him on your lap, looking at you expectantly. You smiled and opened the box with a little difficulty due to the sleeping child in your arms. Your eyes widened when you saw the lush opal necklace. You had never seen such beautiful jewelry.

Alexander, who was watching you like a hawk, smiled at you.

''Alexander, that's…'' You swallowed and took the necklace in your hand, carefully observing its details. The necklace was a magnificent piece, a heavenly masterpiece that captivated the eyes of all who dared to gaze upon it. Every aspect of the necklace was a symphony of intertwined beauty and magic.

The centerpiece of the necklace consisted of a main opal, a generously sized gem that radiated an unparalleled iridescent glow. This central opal was an explosion of celestial color, with soft, shimmering hues that moved like an aurora borealis trapped within the gemstone. Its tones ranged from the deep blue of twilight to the lush green of enchanted forests, and occasional glimpses of the deep red of divine fire.

Around the main opal, a series of smaller opals were skillfully arranged, forming a necklace that seemed to have been woven by the stars' own hand. Each smaller gem had its own color personality, some glowing an ethereal blue, others a crystalline green, and still others with purple and gold hues reminiscent of the sun setting over distant mountains.

The structure of the necklace was as intricate as the reflections of the opals. Delicate strands of gold wove between the gems, creating a sparkling frame that complemented the iridescence of the opals. Small, intricate metal sculptures, decorated with designs that resembled star constellations, adorned the necklace, giving it an aura of ancient magic.

''Do you like it?'' Alexander asked after you remained silent, observing the necklace with a strange expression.

''I loved it.'' You whispered, admiring the necklace. Alexander walked over to you and took the necklace from your hands and placed Cyrus back in your arms, careful not to wake him. He stood behind you and removed your hair from your neck, placing the magnificent necklace around your neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the touch of his calloused fingers on your skin and sighed when the necklace was placed on you.

''I'm glad, it suits you.'' He kissed your neck affectionately and you closed your eyes, smiling.

Alexander leaned closer to your ear and whispered, ''When I heard the story about the opal… I knew it would have to be yours and yours alone.''

You opened your eyes and turned your head, looking at him. ''And what is this story?''

Alexander smiled widely and after kissing your forehead, he began to tell you both stories he had heard from the merchant. You just listened in silence, delighting in his words, with your sleeping children on your arm and the weight of the beautiful necklace around your neck.

Your small, loving family.

[twig-tea]

With 23.5 finally coming out, the people are rejoicing at finally getting a high profile gl from GMMTV. But there have already been several gls airing this year, including my fav TsukuTabe, that have been flying under the radar with fandom, and in general there are more gls already out there than folks seem to think. I just know you have a list of all the gls we should be watching, please share with the class!

Thank you for the ask! How did you know I had a draft of GL recs to make at some point? [Trick question, I mentioned it to you.]

It may seem like I'm out here hating on GL because i've made a couple of negative reviews of recently airing series recently (Love Senior and Chaser Game W in case you're curious) but I actually have lots of GL that I love and that I wish were better known! Thanks for sending this ask so I am inspired to actually finish it! I've limited myself to series so that I could keep the list and this post to a reasonable length. Where possible I've listed where you can find each of these and included a link. And I've included an 'elevator pitch' summary but I am NOT in marketing for a reason, so please don't roast me too hard for my terrible comparisons. Alright, enough waffling!

Twig's GL Rec List

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat S1 & 2 (Japan, 2022 & 2024, both seasons fansubbed by @furritsubs; if you need help accessing this show feel free to DM me!)

Elevator pitch: Our Dining Table with lesbians and an even slower burn. Watch for beautiful food, acespec rep, mental health and therapy rep

What might turn some off: Extremely low heat, and quite slow-moving; warning for a disordered eating and family trauma plot (v gently handled)

Let's start with the one you've already mentioned. This is a heartwarming slice-of-life slow burn in which an autismspec-coded woman who likes to eat is invited by her neighbour, a femme acespec woman who loves to cook, to come and eat her food. It starts from a very practical place (when you love making food you need someone to help eat it), but their relationship grows as they spend more time together. The story follows them as they both move towards self-actualization in several ways: as a lesbian, as asexual, at work, with their families, with their friends, with each other. This show is so careful to say the important words aloud. And there is so much delicious cooking! Each episode highlights a particular recipe, and the food porn is real. Do not watch while hungry, but definitely watch. The found famiy vibes in this one one are also immaculate.

She Makes My Heart Flutter (Korea, 2022, YouTube)

Elevator pitch: Younger lesbian friend group tries to help out (slightly) older lesbian bar owner with mixed success. I can't think of a good BL equivalent, The Moment Since feels the closest with its similar bartender/patron romance

What might turn some off: Comedic tone; short runtime; struggles with being closeted

This is a gem of a miniseries about a bar owner and an interior designer who smoulder at one another while an intrepid group of younger bar regulars (including the bar owner's neice) meddle. This series is really cute, solid, and full of sapphics! Once again found family vibes are immaculate (you may sense a theme in my faves). Run don't walk.

Fragrance of the First Flower (Taiwan, 2021, GagaOOLala)

Elevator pitch: Right-person-wrong-time/second chance romance; tonally is a little like We Best Love 2: Fighting Mr. 2nd but with an ambiguous ending.

What might turn you off: Medium heat, second chance romance means they break up once, internalized homophobia, adultery/cheating, at one point there's a creepy dude, child with autism (depicted well), ambiguous ending

At its core this is a story of a woman who can't stop getting in the way of her own happiness. This series is a little more sad than the rest of this rec list but I couldn't not include it because this relationship is so poignant. Plus there's a s2 that supposedly is to come out in 2024 so maybe we'll get our happy ending after all?

Love Greater Than or Equal to 70 Degrees C (Korea, 2019, YouTube)

Elevator pitch: Ingredients but with lesbians staring at one another over beautiful tea pairings! What more could you ask for?

What might turn you off: Low heat; short runtime; ambiguous ending; like Ingredients this is essentially a long ad for the café it's filmed at.

This is a Korean miniseries about passionate tea sommeliers making really fancy tea while staring at one another a LOT. Perfect sapphic representation, 10/10 no notes. This one packs a lot of the drama tropes into its short runtime, so even though it's short it's full of butterfly-inspiring moments.

Sleep With Me (Philippines, 2022, GagaOOLala/iWantTFC/Netflix w/VPN set to Philippines)

Elevator pitch: The Truth About Cats and Dogs but the self esteem issues are handled without catfishing. BL equivalent: Hmmm. Closest I can think of is Gaya Sa Pelikula.

What might turn you off: There's some ableism (treated as such) in this show; Open ending.

Stellar GL between a late night radio DJ and an insomniac who listens to her show. One of the main couple is a wheelchair user and the show tackles ablelism and navigating disability in relationship as well as feelings of inadequacy in a relationship and how that manifests as interpersonal conflict.

Our Relationship Ended Before it Began (Korea, 2022, YouTube)

Elevator Pitch: Along the lines of I Cannot Reach You; the show gives both perspectives and they are held back by queer angst.

What might turn you off: No kiss (but they make it very clear both want to kiss), internalized homophobia

Really sweet miniseries about having a crush and being afraid of being hurt so you don't actually make a move. I really like the way the girl who has not dated a girl before defaults to gender roles and it throws the more experienced lesbian lol I also really like the way this show makes clear that both of them are waiting for a kiss, and that if you get in your head about things, it can get in the way of your own happiness!

Pearl Next Door (Philippines, 2020, Youtube)

Elevator Pitch: Gameboys but with lesbian vloggers.

What might turn you off: Love triangle, lots of teasing but low heat in the end, a lot of (good) conversations about mental health issues, ambiguous ending

This is the GL spinoff to Gameboys, starring Pearl from Gameboys. Pearl ends up being fought over by the two gorgeous women in the gif, an old love and a new. I love the queer friendships in this story as much as the relationships. I will say it's an open ending (that felt a bit like the showrunners didn't want to decide between ships) and definitely the love triangle features prominently but even in the face of these aspects that would normally turn me off a series I had a good time. The characters and interpersonal conflicts feel very real, and are allowed to be complex even when the show tone is comedic.

Dear Uranus (Taiwan, 2021, YouTube)

Elevator Pitch: Schoolgirl ensemble GL; a little like My School President but without the singing.

What might turn you off: Short runtime; ambiguous ending; a little bit of bullying; very standard romance trope execution

The first Taiwanese GL miniseries, this series was produced by a Taiwanese lesbian couple (Rabbit & Wolf)! Lots of excellent drama tropes, and incredibly gorgeous women (I think the entire watching audience fell in love with Erol.

Lily Fever (Korea, 2015, YouTube)

Elevator pitch: Complete crack; YYY but with more kissing and frankly an even less coherent story.

What might turn you off: The lack of coherent plot; less a romance and more a very thirsty lesbian kissing everyone she can

This miniseries is utter chaos. Nothing really makes sense, it's all just random excuses to cause very suggestive moments (and kissing) to happen. I love so much how this series depicts women being so absolutely thirsty for one another (and yes that date isn't a typo, this series is ~9 years old). Not an "happy ever after" ending but it really isn't that kind of story.

Chasing Sunsets (Philippines, 2020, YouTube)

Elevator pitch: Ocean Likes Me with lesbians. Resort romance with a mental health twist.

What might turn you off: Some of the mental health stuff gets intense, this was filmed in 2020 so the pandemic features heavily; hopeful but slightly ambiguous ending.

A complex story from the Philippines covering mental health and finding yourself. A woman shows up to a resort and befriends one of the women running the resort. They get closer as they spend time together, and the resort owner realizes something is off. There's also a BL side couple in this series.

Show Me Love (Thai, 2023, YouTube)

Elevator pitch: A little like My Day the series with lesbians, in that they work together and fall in love and it's full of tropes

What might turn you off: The advertising for the Miss Grand competition, there is some bullying and cheating (though way less than I was expecting tbh), not a lot actually happens, the editing gets a bit wonky at the end

This is essentially a massive ad for the Miss Grand Thailand competition; this GL was produced by the same company that produces that competition, and the stars are mostly Miss Grand competitors. The main pairing were shipped in the actual competition, and the company decided to make a GL about them. It's very slow paced and low-stakes, and there are better kisses than I expected considering everything I just said about where this show came from. There are a lot of cute moments!

Girlfriend Project (Korea, 2022, YouTube)

Elevator Pitch: Love Class with lesbians

What might turn you off: One of the leads is kind of mean in that pgitail-pulling way? It ends abruptly (but happily)

This is a short miniseries about two girls paired in a class that are assigned to "date". The chemistry is chemistrying. And there is a kiss (a good kiss, and a tiptoes kiss at that!). This show also has one of my favourite tropes, in which someone who seems like a pushover stands up for themselves and their partner finds it very attractive. For the record, in this show they are watching another GL by the same company, Love Tech.

Lulu (Philippines, 2022, Vivamax/grey)

Elevator Pitch: Present Perfect with lesbians (but with a better ending).

What might turn you off: Depictions of panic attacks, brief depiction of drowning, pandemic lockdowns, illness, exes, waffling, happy but open ending (which I actually liked for this story)

Two women trying to move on from the garbage in their lives meet at the beach of a B&B (where one saves the other from drowning) and become one another's company during their escape and then something more. They both have baggage that seems determined to keep them apart even as they continue to be drawn together. In the end, they decide to stick it out and see where they end up, with no guarantee of happily ever after, which I found very sweet. Requires either a VivaMax account or searching the grey for it, but it's worth the effort (check MyDramaList comments for suggestions on where to find it). Plus one of the leads has a cactus as a pet.

Welcome to the Lesbian Bar (Korea, 2023, YouTube)

Elevator Pitch: A little like Fudanshi Bartender but without the fudanshi bartender and all of the bar patrons are lesbians lol

What might turn you off: Short, can get a little bit preachy, abrupt ending

Cute short series with different very stories every episode as different patrons visit the bar. The stories range from women who have been together for awhile, to people meeting from an online app for the first time, to someone visiting a lesbian bar for the first time; and yet the story all weaves together in a way that's satisfying though ends abruptly. Includes some solid marriage equality propaganda.

GAP the Series (Thai, 2022, YouTube)

Elevator Pitch: Kind of the vibes of Together with Me but lesbians and in an office instead of school. Angry boss falls for charming new intern and

What might turn you off: This one is the highest heat of all these recs; homophobia especially amongst family, brief depictions of death by car, brief mentions of suicide, cheating, bullying, abuse of power in the office.

A list would not be complete without this one! Honestly the plot is a bit wobbly but the show is a lot of fun. The girls are very cute, the feelings and tension builds really well between them, the friend group is excellent, and in the special we get a wedding.

---

The rest of these have caveats of one kind or another, but i couldn't leave them off a rec list, so here are the side couples and censored stories that are still worth your time anyway (I might do a separate more detailed post for these, as well as for films, one day if there's interest):

Nevertheless (GL side; Korean, 2021, Netflix) Not sure it's worth watching a whole kdrama for side lesbians? Search soljiwan on youtube. They are great. Even the Netflix account stans them. I watched this (ngl, I watched the SolJiwan cut) as it aired and was constantly braced for it to let us down but it did not! A really good friends-to-lovers story.

Friend Zone 2: Dangerous Area (GL side; Thailand, 2019, YouTube): These sapphics are messy and I love them. Decent conversation about dating someone with mental health issues in this series, and they're one of the only couples in this ensemble to get a happy ending. If you're just watching the lesbian couple (which you can, their story is pretty self-contained) you don't need to have seen s1.

Six Survivors (GL side; Japan, 2022, Viki) This show is a horror comedy and it is SO MUCH FUN. Warning for zombies and blood, but way less than you might think. One of the eponymous 6 survivors is a lesbian who keeps trying to convert them to veganism lol. If you watched Chaser Game W you'll recognize one of the actresses in this, the lead actress is from Kamisama no Ekohiiki, and one of the guys is from the prequel series His as well as I Want to See Only You! And yes there is a kiss. Also a surprising number of Mallrats references. Not for people who can't handle gore or relationships being complicated/not a "true love" story/ambiguous ending.

Kamisama no Ekohiiki (complicated question of is it GL in parts, Japan, 2021, furritsubs once again coming through to save the day) This one is a bit complex because there's bodyswap, but the girl who falls for the bodyswapped boy-in-a-girl's-body is clear that she is only interested in the girl. One of the better bodyswap stories because the bodyswap is not a secret for very long, so instead there's a lot of introspection about what gender means and who/what they are attracted to. Feels wrong to call this GL, necessarily, but it's very queer.

Couple of Mirrors (Censored GL, China, 2021, Viki) Story of a rich girl and her assassin girlfriend. This production did an amazing job getting away with what they could, just don't watch the last five minutes and we've got essentially a happy lesbian family.

Legend of Yunze (Censored GL, China, 2021, @douqi7s) Very cute very low budget xianxia miniseries with two seasons and a special. The special is set in modern times in a future lifetime so if you want a cute censored-but-clearly-a-soulmate-love-story this is the one for you. Don't be thrown off by the weird cuts/abrupt episode endings, that's in line with cdramas in general.

Led Astray by Love (Censored GL, China, 2021, @douqi7s) A very fun and adorable isekai story in which a modern day girl is transported to a wuxia novel setting and has to figure out how to get home, and gets romanced by the princess along the way.

And a few additional links for people who even more content:

My Indian sapphic webseries rec list

My suggestions for content with toms (Thai category that's similar to but not exactly the same as butch lesbians) in response to this post.

This really good GL MyDramaList list (not made by me!) lists what seems to be everything I've mentioned and about 200 more. Even I haven't seen a few of these!

My YouTube playlist of sapphic content: This includes anything I stumble across or find in my searches, a lot of music videos and random shorts as well as some microseries and miniseries that I don't consider GL but are WLW/sapphic in addition to true "GL" content. For serialized content, I add just the first ep. A complete mess, but you can trawl through to find stuff to watch, like Hetero!

SOONOTSUE: The same producers of She Makes My Heart Flutter have other short series on their channel worth checking out; if you liked that one, try Out of Breath!

Shakeshoulder: Thai YouTube producers of very pulpy (read: low budget and dramatic plots) shorts

FuFuKnows: This YouTube channel is owned by a gay Taiwanese couple that produces shorts every week, including some with GL mains and sides. These are very low budget but cover a whole swath of queer themes.

@douqi7s is a godsend providing subtitles for all kinds of content, including sapphic shorts and more series than I've listed here. Check their tumblr for links to all of their content; A Practical Guide to Being a Superstar's Assistant has one of the best setups to giving us great moments in the guise of something else so that they get past censorship I've ever seen; I also recommend The Vampires if you're into genre fiction, as well as Legend of Yunqian if you enjoyed the xianxia parts of Legend of Yunze. @wlwcatalogue did an excellent summary of many of the non-wuxia options here.

Quick pitch for the streaming platform GagaOOLala; it's affordable, has a ton of content, including a whack of GLs (originals, license series, and a ton of shorts), and is run by queer people out of Taiwan who care about good quality queer content being made and having an audience, and using the soft power from those successful series to support social change. And if you can't afford a subscription it's worth checking out what they have for free, they open up temporary free access to some things for various events throughout the year.

In searching for gifs for this post I found fellow tumblr user @drowningparty 's WLW compendium list; they've listed more series and films so check it out if you still need more content!

*wipes sweat off brow* that should be enough to be getting on with, but it's really just the tip of the iceberg! If there's something specific you want to see with sapphics let me know and I can tell you if I know it exists. Anyway, I hope this gives you and everyone else a taste of what all is out there! I of course always want more, I am serious about being a sapphic dragon hoarding every crumb i can get my lizardy hands on, but I do think what we have should also be appreciated more. If I missed one of your faves, please tell me!

[fictionalnormalcy]

THERE IS LEGITIMATE PROOF OF A SECTION ON NIGHT FURIES IN THE DRAGON EYE!!

In ‘Gone Gustav Gone’, Hiccup is checking different combinations in the Dragon Eye. He said he was going to try finding the Night Fury section; says to use the Monstrous Nightmare gem, the Night Fury switch, and obviously having been activated by Toothless’ flame. 

We all remember this moment, the Dragon Eye goes dark afterward. 

It wasn’t that there wasn’t anything to find. I want to believe it’s because they only had a single lense. There hadn’t been the lycanwing debacle, and they found another lense at the end of that very episode. 

Maybe, Hiccup needed more lenses to have seen the section, maybe another dragon fire from one of the Strike Class. But I’m going to fucking bring it up again. The section Viggo opened the Dragon Eye too at the end of Maces & Talons pt 2. WHICH HAS THE LITERAL IMAGE OF A NIGHT FURY. 

Yes I really am just stating the obvious. I outline because we were purposely deprived of this information, just because they wanted to keep the Night Fury mystery “resolvement” for The Hidden World. Yet they still fucking left us hanging and with unanswered questions.

But yes, and I KNOW I said it in another post (or who knows could be one in my drafts, my memory’s lacking): 

THE DRAGON EYE HAD TO BE THE ONE SOURCE OF INFORMATION WHICH WOULD HAVE HAD INFORMATION ON NIGHT FURIES

(pardon me while I cry) However we will never know this information because Hiccup’s story has come to an end. 

[ominousredherring]

Suffer.

Synopsis: Garreth misses Valentines Day with his wife, and she intends to enact sweet revenge.

Garreth Weasley x fMC (Julianna Weasley né Sinclair) NSFW: Suggestive language, stay away kids. Everyone is adults here.

This is inspired by a scene from a show called The Nanny I watched as a kid, a late night gem. This has been sitting in my drafts for a MINUTE.

The grandfather clock nestled in the corner of the small living room began to play its tune. Its chimes reverberating throughout the cottage.

Midnight.

Julianna stared at the clock with annoyance, resigning to pour herself a glass of her husband's favorite firewhisky he kept on the mantle. Letting the sweet liquor burn her throat, she hoped it would extinguish the fire she felt in her heart. Even though she valued time management, a pet-peeve of hers to be late to any occasion, Julianna always made an exception for him.

But this time - he was in trouble.

As she sat down in her chair by the clock, taking another long sip of her drink, she finally heard the familiar crack in the air. The resonant feeling in her chest that alerted her of her dear husband's arrival. This was the moment Julianna had waited for, hours of sifting through her endless array of emotions, only for her to sway slightly under the vibrations of his heavy footsteps on the porch.

The low whisper of alohamora. His large silhouette as the door swung open carefully, the moonlight behind him only accentuating his now unruly copper hair.

She watched him from the darkness of the room as he shed his coat and bag from his deliciously broad shoulders, but she also noticed how he tended to sway a bit as he trudged towards the kitchen to conjure himself a glass of water. Had he been drinking? Was he exhausted? She couldn't tell... until the familiar smell of butterbeer and loaded potatoes filled her nose.

Julianna remained silent, watching him like a hawk as he tiptoed across the kitchen and towards the dining room where she heard him utter a string of curses under his breath.

The clock chimed once again.

12:15. February 15th. He missed Valentine's Day.

/////

Garreth knew he couldn't be late.

The owl he had received on Monday from his darling wife, informing him of his 'much anticipated attendance' at home as soon as his last class was over, made him perk up with joy as each day passed. He knew, based on the meetings over precautionary measures of storing away anything remotely to do with amortentia from the students, reminded him that Valentine's Day was Friday.

Well… technically yesterday.

He had been imagining all week, sniffing her perfume on the letter as he would rut against his pillows at night, the only thing keeping him from apparating to their cottage was the last sentence in her letter urging him to remain at work and not get himself in trouble. Would he have cared? Absolutely not. Anything keeping him from being in between her legs was merely a distraction in his eyes.

He even thought of taking a bottle of amortentia with him, wondering how Julianna would react under such a potent potion, how her eyes would dilate even more as he kissed every square inch of her body down to the very knuckle that held her wedding band.

Now, he was cursing at himself under his breath as he stared at the dining room table, decorated with a few candles, flowers, and two plates of cold food.

He knew he shouldn't have listened to Peter Daniels, the new Charms Professor, and his incessant begging for advice related to women. He was flattered at the thought, not to mention his silver tongue by including the fact that he was able to woo such a powerful and gorgeous witch.

"I simply cannot fathom how you managed to woo a woman like Sinclair. She is quite famous! I’ve heard she is an extraordinary Auror.” Peter complimented, gazing at the framed photo on Garreth's desk that showed her and their three children smiling happily.

"It's Weasley now, and while that may be true... she is more than that. She is the love of my life." Garreth said lovingly, taking back the photo and staring down at his beloved wife and the family they created together.

When Peter had begged and pleaded the happily married man, Garreth relented, but warned him he had plans of his own that night and wouldn't dream of being late. Daniels assured him one drink and some small advice wouldn't take more than an hour tops.

But Peter Daniels is a talker.

Girl problems, dating advice, professional quidditch, student gossip, and several drinks later... here he was almost stumbling home and now he would have to put his love advice to use.

His eyes hadn't fully adjusted to the darkness of the house, but he could make out all of the things Julianna did to make their weekend all the more special. The house was immaculately clean, something that was a rare occurrence given they had three rambunctious angels.

She had candles everywhere, fresh logs in the fireplace, his favorite meal and dessert made, and even went as far as to use the fine china his grandmother gifted them at their wedding.

She had made everything absolutely perfect, something that tugged on his heartstrings, especially considering she wasn't one to initiate anything romantically often. He kicked himself, because what should have been a night of feral passion, fucking her senselessly on every surface space they could possibly find, and perhaps making baby Weasley number four, was now a proving to be a night of disappointment and loneliness.

His face fell as he took everything in, and Julianna almost felt bad for him. She poured her heart out into planning this, even making sure to send him a note to not be late. She hoped it wasn't something dangerous that happened to him on the way home, or perhaps he needed to stay late due to an accident that required his attention. She would never think that he was out with another woman, she trusted him with her life.

But to see him stumble in their house, clearly tipsy and smelling fragrant of loaded potato wedges? It almost angered her more.

Anxiety was etched on his face as he began to carefully tiptoe across their creaky floorboards, wincing at every noise he made. Garreth hoped he could at least join her in bed and properly explain why he was so late and make up for it in any way she so desired.

Julianna could only imagine what was going through his head, especially when she whispered incendio, lighting all thirty-seven candles simultaneously around the living room. The sudden burst of light made him to stop dead in his tracks.

Garreth straightened his back, slowly turning to find his beloved wife sitting in her tea chair, looking just as gorgeous as always. He couldn't help but smile from ear to ear at the sight of Julianna, but what turned his smile upside down was the current expression she wore. She was smiling too.

"Welcome home, love." She greeted, taking a sip of the firewhisky she had poured herself earlier.

"Hello sweetheart..." he greeted back nervously, "what are you doing awake?"

"I could ask you the very same question." she questioned, keeping her eyes on her drink as she swirled it around in her cup. Garreth let out a heavy sigh, quickly closing the distance between them, and kneeling before her. He took the glass and grabbed both of her hands, kissing every knuckle and leaving a lingering one on her wedding ring.

"I am so incredibly sorry Jules, Daniels wanted girl advice and said I was the only one who could give him some and you know how he talks. I truly didn't mean for it to go on so long I -" Garreth sputtered, now fully sober and a blubbering mess as he tried to explain everything in one breath before she could say anything. Julianna held her finger up to his lips, stopping him mid sentence.

"Garreth, It's okay. I'm not upset." she whispered, prompting him to stare at her in disbelief.

The moment their eyes met only moments ago, she had become putty in his hands. Of course she was upset that he had missed their dinner, but how could she be mad when he was home safe? They had been through their fair share of trials, dangers, and her own years of solitude before they crossed paths again. It only made her weak for the cheerful ginger, she knew deep down she could never truly stay mad at him.

But to see him so full of remorse, so apologetic, and on his knees before her? To see his emerald green eyes sparkle in the candle light and illuminate his features so perfectly? She could have melted in her chair.

She was weak, only for him.

Still, she felt the need to punish him a little bit for missing dinner, and she knew exactly how to ensure this would never happen again. Julianna stood from her chair and took one final sip of her firewhisky, making Garreth stand just as quickly and tower over her.

"Really?" he asked incredulously.

"Absolutely! If anything, I am just glad that you are home safe." She brought her hand to his cheek and caressed it softly before she started to blow out the candles one by one.

Garreth turned, noticing the little black dress Julianna was wearing. The one that hugged all of her delicious curves, making his mouth water at the sight of her bending down to blow out the candles. Every little glance they shared in those agonizingly long few seconds made his mind chaotic with dirty thoughts, hoping they would still come true tonight.

He attempted to sneak behind her, already beginning to imagine the sinful moans and touches of fire, the way he could pleasure her tonight as only the start of his heartfelt apology. Before he could even graze her hips with his fingers, she suddenly whipped around and held something in her hand.

"I have your present. You can open it now, though since you did return home much later than you promised, you won't receive your gift in the way I originally intended." She said, making him look at her curiously at the way she worded it. "Since it's no longer Valentine's Day." she added.

Garreth looked at the small bag in her hands as she held it out for him, noting it was stuffed with pages from last weeks Daily Prophet, something she often did so he couldn't peek and ruin the surprise. He continued to eye her curiously as he gently took the bag from her, his eyes then darting to it once he felt the weight of his present.

It was incredibly light.

Julianna could barely contain herself, smiling sweetly as she blurted out, "It's the outfit I planned to wear for the whole weekend."

He sat it down on the nearby tea table, searching through the bag as he threw out the newspaper. His brows furrowed when he saw what was inside, picking up the small tin container that he recognized immediately. It was her lip balm, something she never failed to put on before she went to bed.

"Uh, it's just your lip stuff..." He muttered, looking even more confused when his eyes met hers again. Julianna only continued to stare at him, raising her eyebrows as a hint for him to think a little harder. Julianna often put him through the wringer with puzzles and riddles to solve, so it didn't take long for him to connect the dots at her insinuation.

Garreth's breath hitched as he held the container in his large hands, tracing the outline with his thumb. While imagining her traipsing around their house naked for an entire weekend, surely taunting him and fulfilling every one of their carnal needs with fervor, he was also planning Peter Daniels demise for keeping him out so late.

His cock was at full attention, already painfully aroused as his cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson. His eyes darkened as she stared at him, the remaining candlelight accentuating her heavenly features, especially her plush lips as she pouted and shrugged her shoulders.

Slowly, Julianna closed the distance and grabbed her lip balm from his hands, letting her fingers play with his for a moment. She reached to grasp his shoulder and kissed his cheek, giving him her signature sly grin. She whispered with a low and sultry voice, one that she knew would make his hairs stand on end and shudder with arousal.

Letting him know that this was his punishment.

"Suffer."

[mothergold]

| something worse than death |

albedo x reader | minors do not interact

warnings: fluff, established relationship, gender neutral reader, no pronouns for reader, he/him for albedo, very selfship coded, soulmate au (nothing explicitly said but still), i wrote this in drafts and just let my feelings for bedo spill out, super sappy and romantic (sorry), some light nsft stuff, humping and grinding, reader and albedo are kissing for most of this, reader has hair, reader is carried/swept off their feet, idk how many words this is i’m sorry.

a/n: this is a very, oddly personal fic to me and i tried letting go and just writing what i feel so here goes. this is kind of an early bday present to myself (my bday is tomorrow hehe) mutuals do not perceive me

tags: @auphelia @fleur-de-leap @suyacho @themovingcastlez @savvydabbydoo

his face nuzzled against yours, mouth falling open to let out a shaky breath. your hand reached for his, giving it a small squeeze as you sealed the deal with a kiss. your eyes flutter open only for a second and upon seeing his brows furrowed you feel something warm blossom across your chest.

everything feels blissful and a little too good to be true. when you pull away from albedo he let’s out an almost inaudible whine, and you thank the archons you were able to hear it. his eyes slowly open, expression unchanged until those turquoise gems of his land on your face, and then he smiles fondly.

he brushes away some strands of hair that fell in front of your face. “mmm, I’ve missed you.” he purrs against your lips.

you kiss him, again. “and i missed you.” and again. “my sweet, sweet, albedo.”

he hums as his eyes slowly close, now gingerly holding your face with both hands.

albedo wonders for a second if this was why he was created, to hold and love you, and then he’s sure of it. there is no doubt in his mind that’s why he was made.

when he leans in for another kiss it is no longer soft, but instead fervent. even so, his palms hold you gently, not a hint of aggression underneath his fingertips. no, what is hidden there instead are molecules and atoms that he will one day weave into stars that he’ll spread across the night sky.

every sparkling gift he shares will have been whispered many stories of his adoration for you. how he wooed you and whisked you away. so, that your love may live on even when the both of you have surely left this world. albedo promises to keep you safe from harm, even if that harm one day includes himself.

your fingers tip toe their way up his neck until they find purchase in his golden strands of hair, tugging him with yearning as your heart aches for more of him. you whisper something in his ear and he giggles in response. in one swift motion he sweeps you off your feet and carries you to the bed, pining you down with an adoring smile on his face.

albedo strokes his knuckle lightly along the side of your face, tilting his head to the side as he lets out a quiet sigh. he thinks to himself whether you’d always looked this beautiful—your hair spilling around your face while your body is cushioned on the bed—and then he smiles, chuckling to himself. of course you had. when hadn’t you? he couldn’t recall a time, not that it would matter either way. he’d love you, promise himself to you, wed you, and stay with you no matter the circumstances.

and that’s when he says those two words. “you’re beautiful.” and you believe him, because why would he ever give you a reason to distrust him?

he strokes your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “so beautiful..” he whispers, as if he himself is in disbelief of your beauty.

your eyes flutter as does your heart which beats fast within your chest. “oh, albedo..”

and like your bodies are in tune with one another, you lean for another kiss just as he does with you. his arms wrap around you, holding you close as if he fears he’d have to release you once again. he lays on his side and you do the same, whimpering in between breathless kisses. his hand finds its spot underneath your jaw just before he lays on his back and pulls you on top of him. he’s warm, incredibly so.

you can’t help but gasp as you feel his hands grab at you desperately. albedo fears for a moment that everything would soon come crashing down, that the eventual fall of his rising was to come next, but you’re quick to shush him and kiss away the tears he hadn’t realized had fallen.

he’s sure that no matter what happens after that he would end up in hell. that’s the only explanation he can come up with for how lucky he is to have fallen into your arms. everything good comes with a price, after all, and you surpass every great discovery he’s come to find.

it isn’t until he feels you grind against his lower region that he’s brought back to you. albedo holds your body in place by wrapping his arms around your waist as his hips thrust up to meet yours.

“fuck, you feel so.. mmm keep going, my love.” this is all albedo can whimper to keep from going mad.

and without a second thought you do as he asks of you. without questioning him you rub yourself against his bulge until he’s crying as he cums in his pants. he kisses you as he grinds against you, gasping each time you kiss him with am open mouth.

even after the two of you had long since stopped feeling up each other, you still cling to him. it’s weird, you think to yourself. odd how you know very little about this world but you can pinpoint the exact way to make him laugh. you know what makes him tick, what makes him truly ache with pain, but most of all you know him for who he truly is. when he cries of how ‘monstrous’ he is, you wrap him up in a warm blanket and hold him in your arms as you reassure him that he’s as human as anyone or anything could be.

and for a second, just one minuscule moment, he believes you. for a brief moment your voice calms him in ways no other could, and you heal the cold voice that speaks to him from his memories. yes, albedo thinks, this is what it means to be human. even if only for that small moment, he is human, he is real.

[viaoverthemoon]

Never Enough <3

The people have spoken!!

Thank you for all the votes! ❤️ I had a feeling smut would win lol

I'd like to apologize for how long this took. I've been pretty busy and this gem has just been sitting in my drafts ;-; I'm just really fucking tired. ANYWAYS:

Vendetta!Leon x Fem!Shy!Virgin!Reader

Summary: You meet Leon in a bar and you two hit it off a little too well. <3

Tw: SMUT BUT NOT PENETRATIVE, oral (m and f receiving), overstimulation, non-penetration sex, this is kinda hot, why did I write this?, this shit kinda long.

18+!! NSFW!! MDNI!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! <3

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆

You decided it was about time that you finally agreed to go drinking with your friends.

They'd asked you many times to go out with them and just relax, but you would always refuse.

Between doing college work and having a part-time job, you've just never had the time.

But tonight, you intended to loosen up a little.

Now you sit in a stool at some downtown nightclub, the shortest dress you own barely covering your ass as the worn leather of the stool digs into you.

You hardly understand the conversation your friends are having as you lazily sip from the fruity alcoholic drink they'd gotten for you, your head buzzing delightfully from the alcohol.

You nod along when someone else nods, and giggle when everyone does, barely paying attention until the bartender catches your eye.

He offers you a deep red drink and says its from a handsome blonde man sitting at the end of the bar.

After accepting the drink and confirming with the bartender that you would tell him if you ever felt uncomfortable, you look over at the man and are completely overwhelmed by the bright blue eyes of a stranger.

Time itself seems to slow as you lock eyes with him. His brown hair falls over his face in a messy, yet clean way, the stubble on his face a clear sign that he hasn't shaved in a few days. He eyes you over the rim of his glass as he drinks without stopping, lips forming into a sort of smile when he realizes you're staring at him.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment once you have this same realization, giving him a quick hesitant smile before turning back to your drinks.

You nurse the both of them for a little while longer, returning to your friend's conversation (they hadn't noticed what was going on), and stealing glances at the man every now and then.

This goes on for another 10 minutes, until you're genuinely laughing at your friends' jokes, silently listening until a presence appears close to your back and the voices of your friends trails off as they all look behind you.

You look at their dropped jaws and glances at each other in confusion before turning around, eyes widening when you see the handsome stranger from earlier.

He looks down at you, a slightly confident smirk on his lips when you feel your cheeks heat up again.

You mouth a small 'oh, hello', looking up at him as he leans a little closer so he can be heard over the loud music. Only close enough to be heard but not close enough to be within your personal space.

"Hi. The names Leon. Leon Kennedy. May I ask about yours's?" He sticks his hand out to be shook and judging by the shake in his hands and the quiver of his voice when he asked the overly formal question, you can tell he's not very experienced in this. Well, lucky enough for him, you aren't either.

You can't take your eyes off of him as you mutter your name, stumbling over it as if you've never said it before, and shake his outstretched hand.

He seems to relax a bit more when he sees you're worse at this than he is.

Still holding your hand, he glances at your friends before leaning down to whisper in your ear,

"I want to get to know you more but we aren't really in a private place... wanna get out of here?"

☆

If someone had told you the minute you'd stepped into that bar that you would be leaving with a complete stranger, you would've thought they were crazy.

But if they'd continued and told you you'd end up on your knees in front of said man with his cock shoved down your throat, well, you probably would've called the police.

15 minutes in a taxi with Leon and it felt like you both had known each other your whole lives.

Secrets had been shared, confessions spilled, and opinions expressed. You'd shared more with Leon than you had shared with your own parents, and vice versa.

Leon was surprised by the feeling of trust that clouded his judgement when he got to know you. It was... relieving... to finally have someone he can trust.

Whether it was the sudden feeling of trust, or perhaps the liquid courage (you really couldn't tell), it'd given you the nerve to bring him into a heated kiss outside his door.

He'd been surprised, but immediately kissed you back, unlocking his door and being pushed by you into the apartment.

And now, you sit on your knees in front of him, gagging slightly as he thrusts relentlessly into your mouth.

Your eyes sting and water as he repeatedly hits the back of your throat, but you don't care. The look of him above you, hair damp from sweat and almost sticking to his forehead. Him panting hard as he groans and whimpers, his grip on your hair painful but you're not complaining. These elements along with the low words he grumbles to you is enough to keep you going.

"Fuuuuck sweetheart... Didn't think you'd be a nasty little thing. Sweet Jesu- and you're taking me so deep- God-"

He throws his head back, his hips stuttering for just a second, letting you know he's close.

That statement wasn't entirely true. He knew you would be different the moment you drank the two half-full glasses of alcohol like shots, finishing the both of them in one gulp each.

Well, you didn't drink often but that doesn't mean you don't know how to handle your drinks.

And if there was anything he liked, don't worry, he'll tell you.

"Ah, shit- That felt so fucking good. Ooo, baby, do that again-"

And when he cums, he pushes your head all the way down on his cock, so deep in the euphoria of the orgasm you'd given him that he almost forgets you need to breathe. But you let him come down from his high, albeit choking and sputtering at the feeling of him deep in your throat and the warm feeling of his release sliding down your esophagus and into your belly.

Eventually, his groans and gasps for air come to a halt and he slides out of your warm mouth. Before you can pull away, he grabs your cheeks and forces you to look at him.

"Lemme see it..." He says this to you in a condescending, almost mocking, tone that annoys you but also makes you clench your legs together.

Yet, you follow his command, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to show him the remains. He exhales a slow breath, as if trying to control himself. "Thank you, angel."

He carefully lifts you off of your knees and kisses you.

His tongue fought eagerly with yours, the taste of him relishing in both of your mouths.

Leon began to slide his hands south, fidgeting with the bottom of your dress that rested right at the top of your thighs.

In a moment of fearful hesitation, you stop his hands and the kiss.

He slightly panics, thinking he may have crossed a line and you can see his thoughts in his eyes.

"Oh no, no! Leon I'm fine! I just... um... can we not do the... ya'know... Because I'm still- er- I've never-"

And then Leon's fears wash away. He gives you this soft smile. One that makes your knees weak and your embarrassment evaporate. He caresses your cheek, looking deep into your eyes as you swoon.

"Oh, angel. We don't have to do that if you don't want to. I completely understand."

You're left in a complete daze as you answer him with a 'yeah, okay'. He picks you up bridal style and carries you to what you can only assume is his bedroom.

He plops you on the bed before taking of his shirt and completely removing his pants. You follow suit, removing your short dress to reveal only your lacy thong.

Leon groans, placing his hands on the edge of the bed. His grip on the poor thing was terrifying. This guy is holding back demons.

"Fuck, angel..." He grabs your ankles and pulls you toward the edge of the bed, causing you to yelp.

"It's like you're trying to kill me or something." He kneels on the ground and throws your legs over his shoulders, licking his lips and eyeing you like a predator.

You barely understand a word he's saying. The view on your side was amazing. Having a powerful man on his knees in-between your legs was doing something to your ego.

You whine, toying with your nipples and biting your lip in anticipation. "Leon..." You try to tell him with your eyes to hurry up. Because if he doesn't give you what you want right now, you're about to get it yourself.

He only laughs, moving your thong to the side and out of the way of your entrance. "I know sweet girl... It must hurt so bad. I know."

You whimper, back slightly arching, when he blows cool air onto your pussy.

And before you can snap at him to tell him to stop playing with you, he licks a long stripe up your slit. You gasp, one of your hands flying down to grab onto his hair.

And before you can chastise him about that, he places his entire mouth on your pussy, sucking, biting, and sticking his tongue inside of you.

Oh, now you're screaming.

You're sure Leon will have noise complaints from his neighbors by tomorrow morning, but you can't find it in you to give a fuck.

The hand not buried in Leon's hair is busy gripping his sheets as he tears sound after sound out of you. He eats you out like a man starved, having no mercy on your poor cunt. You aren't even sure if he can breathe but that thought is lost somewhere in the back of your mind.

Your body can hardly keep up with his ministrations, not being able to tell if you're feeling pleasure or pain. You writhe in his grip. He'd wrapped his arms around your legs, locking you in place as close to his face as possible. He doesn't stop, not as you tug on his hair to pull him away, not as your screams and pleas get louder and louder, and not as you finally hit your high.

And you can't even have a moment to come down from it because he isn't stopping.

You cry out, tugging hard on his hair. You just wanted a small break, therefore not using your safe word. He looks up at you, finally.

Half of his face is dripping wet and shiny with your arousal and release. If he cares about that, he doesn't show it. He pants and looks at you with that wide smile, admiring your red cheeks, wet lips, and heavy breathing before leaning down to give you hickeys on your inner thighs.

"God you looked so pretty coming on my tongue, angel... Do it again?"

☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*☆.｡.:*

I was going to just do m receiving oral and then do f receiving another day, but then I was like "Fuck it. We ball." ya feel?

Anyways, hope you enjoyed!

Requests are open!! <3

[sherlockggrian]

something about secret life, and winter, and memories.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Bright lights twinkled in the tall, glimmering halls of Gem’s castle. A huge, sparkling Christmas tree rose tall in the center, keeping out the blue that filtered in through the windows. Faces spun and laughed in the small crowd of people that gathered in the room, as quiet jazz music drifted in and out from somewhere. 

Scar was dancing with Grian, wrapped in a green scarf and red coat that twirled when he spun around. His reflection shone off the marble floor. There were lights above him. The room seemed to glisten whenever he moved around, whenever he bent his hand and Grian took it, and whenever the music fluttered, slowly and warmly. The walls were blurry. There was a cold draft coming from somewhere. Grian swallowed hard, watching the figures in the room spin. 

He sighed, closing his eyes, afraid the picture would go away when he opened them. It was really a lovely memory. 

Something swirled in the fabric of time and when Grian looked up, Pearl was standing beside him, wrapped in dark blue clothing, her hand on the hilt of her sword, and her eyes shining a familiar, unnatural green, glinting purple in the blue twilight. 

“You’re in my dream,” said Grian, matter-of-factly. Normally, he’d be angry with her for that, but he was so transfixed by the scene in front of him that he decided to let it go this time.

“It’s a nice dream,” said Pearl. 

Grian looked to another part of the room, where an image of another Pearl was dancing lazily with a blurry Gem, their faces obscured and dappled by gold and blue. 

Grian must admit he’d almost forgotten. It all felt so hazy now anyways, and memories of this other life were few and far between. Most of his dreams lately had been filled with voices and dark corridors and blood. This one was welcome. Even if Pearl had rudely barged her way into things. 

“I’m worried about her,” whispered Pearl, and Grian had to tear his eyes away from Scar again. “She doesn’t know what she’s doing.” 

Grian took a moment to realize who she was talking about. “Do you wish she did?” 

Pearl said nothing, her gaze fixed on Gem’s hazy figure, who was now speaking to a poorly imagined Scott. Grian wondered how much of this Gem remembered. How much Pearl remembered. How much Pearl stayed away from the ones she cared about, the same way that Grian did, with the same cautious knowledge that came with the curse of watching. 

“It’ll be Christmas soon, back home,” whispered Grian. 

“I don’t even know what month it is anymore.” 

Grian struggled to remember the days leading up to the one he’d found himself here. He struggled to remember anything at all. “It must be Novemeber already.” 

Pearl pulled a strand of hair out of her hood. She held out her hand and caught a snowflake that fell hazily from somewhere. It didn’t melt, and instead stayed perfectly intact on her hand. Grian started to feel cold. 

“Why are you in my dream?” 

“I thought…” Pearl drifted off. “It’s just nice to know somebody else remembers.” She clutched her hands together. Familiar music drifted through the air. 

Grian continued to watch the figures dancing. They were fading now, getting less detailed, as snow began to fall thicker, and his breath began to fog in the imaginary sky. He wasn’t even sure if this was a real memory. He wasn’t sure if this was something he had left to come back to.

“It’s not real,” he murmured, and the scene faded still. 

Pearl turned to look at him, and her eyes were fully purple now, reflecting the snow that fell around her but didn’t land on her, swirling the images around her slightly. Her face fell from melancholy to something different, and she sighed, melting into the blueish sky. “I’ll see you at the end, Grian.” 

Scar’s laughed filtered in from somewhere, echoing off the walls of Grian’s dream. He was singing. Someone was playing the piano. Someone was talking, in hushed voices, very far away. It smelled like snow and dark caverns. 

Grian sighed, and woke to a cold, dark, and empty room. 

[hellosimplylizzie]

~ A/N: haven’t written anything in like 4+ years, but I’m up late and found a few gems in my drafts. So here’s a little something. 😮‍💨🥲Hope I still got it. ✏️~

I Need You.

{{Imagine Dean disrespecting you and learning his lesson. // Y/N is sitting at the bunker table with Dean, doing some research, when a petty fight ensued between the stressed couple.}}

“-Bring me some pie,” Dean yelled, before Y/N could exit the room.

“Excuse me,” Y/N halted in her tracks and threw Dean an appalled look. “I don’t know who you’re talking to, but I sure as hell know it ain’t me.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t make this something it isn’t. You know I love me some pie.”

“Don’t gaslight me, Dean. You know I’m already upset with you. We’ve been fighting all day, you’re only going to piss me off some more.”

“I don’t know why. I did nothing to upset you.”

“Dean, I’m tired of arguing…” Y/N shot him a defeated look, hoping he’d want to begin mending things with her.

“Then don’t. Hurry on back because we have to finish up this research for tomorrow’s investigation.”

Sighing deeply, Y/N hesitated. “I’m actually gonna get some fresh air…” Grabbing her sweater from the back of her chair, Y/N huffs as she heads in the opposite direction, towards the bunker exit. Lost in thought about how she hated leaving without kissing her man goodbye, but couldn’t manage to move her feet in his direction. Instead, she vanishes out the door, not uttering a single word to Dean.

Dean was left feeling like an asshole for not preventing Y/N from leaving, but also knew he needed time for himself to cool off.

Three hours later, and not hearing a peep from Y/N, had sent an anxious Dean into a frenzy, racking his brain for ideas on how to make it up to her. The entire time he was alone at the table, gave him plenty of time to reflect and he came to the realization that, Y/N deserved better. The past couple weeks, Dean had been taking his anger and frustration out on Y/N. Although he hadn’t realized it ‘til now, he knew she deserved better. All he could do now was pray that she’d come back home, and it wasn’t too late for him to try and mend things.

Another hour later, Dean is sitting at the table again, going over the latest research with Sam and Cass. Y/N enters the bunker, a plastic shopping bag in hand, and stares down at the boys. Dean makes eye contact with her, and notices her swollen, puffy under-eyes. The guilt he felt, burned through his chest. Sam, glanced between Dean and Y/N feeling the tension, knowing a bit of what happened before Y/N left, because Dean had confided in him and Cass earlier that day.

“Don’t mind me…” Y/N speaks quietly, making her way down the steps and over towards the table. I think I’m going to shower and then you guys can fill me in?”

“Sam, Cass, can we have a minute?” Dean speaks up, signaling for the guys to leave the room.

Sam nodded, pulling Cass with him out the room.

“Dean…” Y/N speaks, once the other guys were out of sight, and she saw the hurt on Dean’s face.

“Stop, Y/N. Let me... I wanna say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking to you the way that I’ve been talking to you.” Dean gets up from his chair and walks over to Y/N, getting close, and wrapping his arms around her waist. “We’ve all been under a lot more stress. This lifestyle isn’t an easy one to live, but I’m so f**king grateful to have you here, helping me through it- helping each other through it. And I hate how I’ve been treating you, so I promise I’m going to work on it.” He looks at her with sad, pleading eyes. The built up sadness and trauma from throughout the years, resurfacing and Y/N couldn’t help but tear up with him.

“It’s okay, baby.” Y/N reassures him, quickly pulling him into a hug, still holding onto her bag. “I know… It’s going to be okay.” Y/N had already forgave him before making it back home, but seeing him so torn over everything, made her even more appreciative of her boyfriend. She understood that they were both constantly under pressure, and going through the ringer, dealing with wars and hunts. Just non-stop violence. But they were always each other’s peace, and that’s what mattered the most. “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Dean replied, leaning into Y/N and kissing her like his life depended on it. Y/N kissing him back, gently but full of passion, as if they were healing each other through it.

“-oh, I brought you something.” Y/N mumbles, breaking away from the kiss and holding the plastic bag up in the air.

“-What?” Dean groans, eager to continue what they had started.

“Pie-” Before she could say anything else, Dean collides his lips with hers once more.

“Forget the pie.” Dean huffed through the kiss. After tossing the bag on the table, Dean picked Y/N up and carried her to their bedroom. “I need you.”

[queenofbaws]

Hi again!! I have an offer for a 6 sentence prompt, after reading a few of your great fics with the matt + ashley dynamic, I'd love to see your take on a world where they're the only two survivors of UD!

He woke up and the bed was cold, but there wasn't anything shocking about that. Almost everything else about them slotted so cleanly into place, fitting into perfect little notches like gears meant to keep each other turning...sleep schedules, though? Nah. Never. He doubted that one would ever take.

It wasn't until he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and checked the time that it occurred to him, something might be wrong. There, in dark, bold numbers set against his lockscreen (still that terrible picture from Thanksgiving, all of his grandma's ridiculous bouquets of glass gem corn and plastic maple leaves peeking out from between their exhausted smiles), proof this wasn't just an early-to-bed-early-to-rise thing.

Ashley was up before him. And he didn't like that.

She was a night owl - and that was putting it lightly - her brain hitting its stride sometime around lunch, her first yawns coming closer to sunrise than sunset. She used the quiet hours to read, to write, to dump out all the poison thoughts she was still too shy to let him see. Matt knew that, and, frankly, got it. He was the same, but opposite; he got more things done before the sun was up than most people got done in the day, jogging, stretching, working out, meal prep, shower, shave, clothes, chores, and he'd be a liar if he said he didn't vent his own worries then, forcing them out in the times and places he knew she wouldn't see.

What had happened...well, it was like a lot of things. The same, just opposite. There were things she'd had to do that he'd never understand. There were things he'd seen that she'd never understand. Not for lack of trying, just...brains could only take so much. Even hers. Especially his.

So they lived in the overlap, the comfortable (shockingly comfortable, in fact) place where their schedules lined up and their experiences meshed, where they fit together like those gears. It was a funny place, most of the time, caught somewhere between 'birds of a feather flock together' and 'opposites attract,' always just as much one as it was the other. She laughed when he tried to make jokes, he nodded thoughtfully and did his best to spark her memory when she needed a word, she only winced a little when he'd tried going keto a few months back, he'd finished reading the first draft of her novel even though it'd taken him the better part of two months to get through. And it was good, that living. It was good, and it was beautiful, and some days he forgot that they hadn't always been like this, that something had come before.

Matt got up, leaving the warm, rumpled covers for the chilly, chilly hall, rubbing the bleariness from his eyes as he went. There were no lights on to suggest she was still writing in the back room, no noises to lead him to a percolating coffee pot, and with each step he took, his worries gnawed a little deeper, tapping into that part of him that remembered what it was like to turn around and see the person you thought had been following you was just gone. Vanished into thin air.

He found her sitting beneath the bay window, her knees to her chest and her chin to her knees, the side of her head resting against one of the panes of glass...and the dread went out of him in a wave. He breathed it out, louder than he meant to, but even at his (admittedly) comical little 'whew,' Ashley didn't look away from the dark, sleeping world outside.

He joined her - as best he could, anyway, given the size of the alcove the window was in - sitting with his legs outstretched and his feet bumping hers, looking not past the glass but straight ahead at her. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked with another good-natured jostle, his foot nudging the sugar-plum-and-candy-cane print of her pajama pants.

Instead of answering straightaway, Ashley tapped a finger to the window, her nail clicking slightly, and when Matt turned -

"...oh."

Together, they watched the snow fall outside. Watched it become a dusting on the grass, the street, the sidewalks, the cars parked and waiting for the morning. The sun would melt it, erase it, and most of their neighbors would never even know that it had happened, but there it was. White and frail and bitterly, bitterly cold. A promise of the winter ahead; a reminder of the one they'd left behind.

"I think we should go on vacation," Ashley said after a long while, her voice rasped. From the all-nighter, he'd let her say later, not from anything else. "Somewhere...somewhere warm, maybe."

"I think...that's the best idea anyone has ever had," Matt agreed, and when he opened his arms, there weren't words for how grateful he was that she moved from her spot of her own volition, scooting over to tuck herself against him.

It was easier to watch the snow gather on the ground that way - her back to his chest, his chin on her head, their arms crisscrossed, knotted, interwoven. They were stronger in that overlap, and they would keep being stronger there, too - no matter what winter threatened them with.

[hlficlibrary]

HL FIC LIBRARY ✤ AUTHOR REC

AO3: reminiscingintherain

Tumblr: @reminiscingintherain

STATS:

✤ Number of fics: 72

✤ Posting Since: 2015

TOP 5 FICS:

1️⃣ Latching Onto You {T, 34k}

“Wait a sec,” Harry interrupted. “Zayn and Liam?” “Yeah, my best mates, who are getting married?” Louis said slowly, slightly baffled at the question. “This is a gay wedding?” “Is that going to be a problem?” Louis asked, his voice losing its friendly edge and taking on a decidedly icy tone.

Or, the one where Louis wants to book Harry Styles to perform at his best friends' wedding.

2️⃣ On This Winter's Night {T, 27k}

When a random bloke offers his lap for a seat on a busy bus in December, Louis' Christmas ends up being much different, and far less lonely than he was expecting.

3️⃣ Say It With Flowers {G, 2k}

From the prompt: Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”

4️⃣ Another One For The Road {T, 15k}

She looked up at Louis with a smile. "Congratulations Louis. You're pregnant." "Oh fuck," he said softly, before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he promptly passed out.

Or the one where Louis' on tour when he finds out the hard way that men can get pregnant too....

5️⃣ Falling {T, 4k}

"Are you already in a relationship?" Harry asked warily. "Because... I completely understand if so.""No, I'm not," Louis frowned."Then...?"Louis sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face."Look, I'm Zayn's best friend," he said bluntly.

Based off the prompt:  you’re my soulmate and I know we’d have a happy ever after but you’re my best friends ex and if I dated you they’d never speak to me again and I don’t know what to do

HIDDEN GEM:

💎 Camboy on Lockdown (series) {E, 12k}

While Louis was working on the final draft of his thesis for his Master's, the world went into lockdown around him without him realising. Now he's trapped in student accommodation, and needs a way to earn some money...

[fgfluidity]

mirror | manor (chapter 11)

Summary: After the events of Mirror | Void, a newly-christened Dark has two goals: take revenge on Mark, and, hopefully…

Find the DA.

Pairings: Damien/Dark x DA; Actor x DA (Implied, could be read as gen)

Warnings: none

Tagged: @opprose @volbeast @statictay @otterlyinluv @buc-eebarnes @flerpdederp @mirrorslament @hapikiou (if anyone else would like to be tagged hmu!)

i'm sorry this took almost three years to come out-

find it on ao3 | donate to my kofi

Dark knows the game.

Of course he does— he read the script.

He just expected them to see through it.

Then again... they haven’t seen through anything Mark’s done. They just don’t remember.

He can’t decide if that’s a blessing or a curse.

He sticks to the shadows as they approach, entirely too darling in what amounts to a burglar’s costume, as they wriggle their way inside.

Mark is his own brand of buffoon, and the ‘guards’ he hired match it to the letter, not a drop serious or truly threatening.

(“Sorry I didn’t message you first,” he says, brushing out bits of glass from his hair. “I tried to jam the cell signal and, um… it’s just broken.”)

Imbecile.

Even the dog is there, playing a role. How droll.

Even if she is a very good girl.

All throughout this, he watches for the guard’s radios, for a television screen, for— for anything that he might use to sway the DA, catch their attention without Mark noticing.

If he can just separate them—

The thing is, though, Mark is either ridiculously prepared for his planning, or is completely thoughtless about small, realistic details; throughout the entire museum, no guard has a radio, no wall has a screen.

Not ones that work, anyway— not a connection to anything remotely electromagnetic. Props at best. It’s the least technologically-advanced modern building Dark has been in since…

Well, since he left that manor, but that hardly counts.

The point stands that he’s unable to do much of anything but watch as the DA rolls their eyes and smiles at Mark’s antics, creeps quietly along while the man makes a fool of himself, face set and focused.

He’s seen that look. Pre-trial look. All business.

And they called him too serious all that time ago.

So fondly…

At any rate, their supposed treasure is both easy to get to and utterly unremarkable. A wooden case, carved but hardly special wood, the gem plastic even from his vantage point. A prop, like everything else.

And yet…

Mark lifts the box, and—

This is the end of the script. A successful heist, hightailing it out before they get caught, a seemingly-sincere thanks for help.

But there’s something. Like a little nudge, something like how he feels using the void, how the Earth seems to shift when the Host speaks creation.

The alarm trips.

Mark gives them a choice. Sneak out, or face the guards.

Perhaps... perhaps he overlooked. Perhaps he was given a working script, not the final draft.

Perhaps it’s another of Mark’s machinations.

There was no choice. Why is there a choice?

Why do they get a choice?

It doesn’t matter, really, because the DA picks exactly as he expected they would.

“We have to sneak out, it’s too dangerous, otherwise,” they say, just barely audible over the blaring alarm.

Mark’s face crumbles into a pout. “You’re no fun,” he whines— like a toddler; Dark half expects him to start stomping his feet— but he dutifully uncovers the sewer entrance, grumbling all the way.

The DA just watches, arms crossed. Petty.

They didn’t used to be so petty, but Mark deserves it, if anyone.

Dark very well understands that the entire thing is engineered, a massive staged undertaking to fool the DA and entertain an audience, unseen to his eyes but present all the same.

It doesn’t stop the trip through the sewers any less harrowing, doesn’t prevent him from using his unique position to draw attention away from the DA if ever they come a hair too close to getting caught.

It might be fake, but…

He doesn’t put it past Mark to introduce some very real danger. He’s a method actor, and he’d want his players to follow accordingly for maximum effect.

Dramatic ass.

They follow dutifully behind the entire way through the dark, though— and he notes it with a point of pride, one he chalks up to just how put out Mark seems— with a good amount of non-verbal sass. They cross their arms, roll their eyes, and stubbornly march right along behind Mark.

Not that Mark doesn’t try to get rid of them— oh, he tries to shake them like gum stuck to his shoe, and it’s a thrill to see him huff and grumble when they simply shake their head. He pouts— at several points! So very childish.

Then—

Hm. Unsurprising that the creator of this convoluted mess would whip up some way to surely remove them; if there’s one possible thing they’d listen to above anything else, it’s a worksite safety sign.

Not for lack of effort, though. “I… I really don’t know if we should split up, Mark,” they say, casting an uneasy glance back at the tunnel they just left. “I know it says only one, but if something happens—“

“Nothing’s going to happen! Nothing bad has happened even once!” His bright grin only gets a— astoundingly dry— look in return. It’s nearly impressive that he barrels on, anyway. “It’s for safety, buddy! You’re all about safety— and! We’re synchronized! In five minutes you just follow me over. Or I follow you, whichever.”

Mark gives them a once over, all while grinning, and if Dark wasn’t looking— wasn’t incensed at the familiarity— he wouldn’t have noticed, wouldn’t have cared. Alas.

It’s too… possessive. Too pleased.

He doesn’t need Damien in his head to stoke his rage, it seems, not anymore. The only thing that stops him is what Mark says next.

“You have a choice, sunflower.”

A choice. There it is again, more choices, as if giving them the power to change any of this. Giving them a say.

So they don’t feel trapped.

Aren’t they, though? If Mark wrote everything, created everything, what kind of choice is it?

However…

They glance back at the shadowy tunnel again, frowning, worrying at the sleeves of their top in a too-familiar pattern. If they turn back, they’ll be away from him. How far apart can they both get in five minutes?

How far apart do they need to be for him to intervene?

This is his chance. It may well be the only one he’ll get, and the margin of error is far too slim for his liking— he must get this right. He must say the right thing— and pray they don’t hate or fear him.

Thankfully, time goes a little off-kilter in the Void, or else he’d have to make a very quick plan.

He’ll have to ease them in. See what they could possibly remember from that night, prod what needs prodding. It’s an easy enough parlor trick to conjure up a memory these days.

After that… what could he say?

Damien— he— was never short for words in his past life. As mayor— as councilman, as law student, as debate captain, as his father’s son— he simply had to be good with them, and he was.

Not quite so smoothly charismatic as Mark, not as bombastic and warm as Wil, but— well, he didn’t make mayor through his familial connections, whatever certain parts of his constituency may have believed. He delivered his speeches, his debates, with calm strength, something personable but solid.

Hell, he—

He used to write them for fun. The person— people, really— standing right outside this pocket of Void once teased him.

How are you writing a paper now? Finals are over! Come on, live a little!

Even I don’t want to spend all summer in a library. Won’t you come with me? There are new flowers in the arboretum!

The memory comes unbidden, and throws him off-balance; thankfully, he doesn’t fall out of his incorporeal state or ruin any of his planning.

Such a memory… but how? That’s more of Damien’s—

He hasn’t heard him. Not since that agonizing split when he entered their dream.

Mayhaps they didn’t split.

Mayhaps—

“Well… if you’re sure, Mark,” they sigh, hardly thrilled at the idea. “But it has to be five minutes. If you disappear on me—“

“Relax! It’ll be okay, you’ll see me. Sheesh, you’re so serious.” Mark huffs— then straightens himself. Smiles, even as they turn away, towards Dark. “Yes, alright! You go down that tunnel, I’ll go down this tunnel. If you see anything, and I mean anything, you just turn that sweet little tuchus around and—“

He’s had about enough of that. With hardly more than a thought, he whisks Mark away elsewhere, wherever elsewhere may be, and rolls out his Hall of Memories.

And prays.

They used to pride themself on being unflappable, before, and he can see shades of it, now: their face remains the same, alert but not startled as they take in the paintings, the dust swirling in the beam of their flashlight.

He knew the truth of that, though, and it, too, remains; you need not look at their face for their feelings, but their hands.

Though one holds the flashlight, all ten fingers are in motion— tapping the length of the flashlight, curling and uncurling in their sleeve, the belt loop, the zippers and buttons of their bag. Moving for comfort, perhaps— certainly no expression of joy, as the rest of them is ramrod-straight, stiff with each step.

He longs— longs, what is happening to him— to say something to ease the anxiety, raise the darkness, but he can’t. This is no matter he can explain with soft, comforting words and a pot of tea. His powers aren’t of light at all.

They can, though, reach an electromagnetic signal, and now that they’re alone, he pushes through his thoughts.

Finally, you’re away from him. Aren’t you tired of it?

What?

He’s running you ragged. Don’t you feel like you’re running in circles?

That’s not what he said— not quite, anyway.

They won’t tell you anything. No one seems to question it.

Why can’t he change it?

I know you’re in there. But I thought you’d see through it.

The final painting, of the monster himself, grinning like a fool. It begins to crumble before them both— they step back, fingers tight around both phone and flashlight— and Dark gets a split second of pure dread before—

Before—

My villain. I wrote everything. Even you.

It’s not painful. It’s not— it’s not even close to the searing split of the dreamworld, nothing to the pain in his stolen body, nuts compared to his shattered leg almost a century ago. It doesn’t hurt at all.

He almost wishes it did.

“Same snake, different skin,” he muses, and something inside him quails at the sight of fear— truly, rare fear— in their eyes when they turn to take him in. “Always spinning his yarns, his webs, his lies.”

He means to say it. He means to say he’s nothing but a monster in human skin, that they’re being dragged one way or another at his whims— he doesn’t mean to sound so… angry. So—

Villainous.

He screams, though it doesn’t come out— not of this body. Instead, there’s the discomfort of a fragment, juddering, lashing void in every direction. He only keeps enough sense to keep it away from them.

Without him— without him!— his body paces, a smile too similar to Mark’s on his face. “Perhaps we’ve met a hundred times already, and you simply don’t remember it. Perhaps you’re tired of me repeating myself over and over and over and over again!”

He’s seen them a hundred times, but have they met? Has he said anything to them, his desperate wish for them to remember and leave simply that, a wish?

No. This is Mark’s doing, but he’s far from the only one with power. Dark pushes past the discomfort, past the fragments that shatter out of him, and tries to touch it. Tries to see what, exactly, controls him.

It’s a web.

Not unlike a spider’s, really, glimmering threads of words in several different directions, coalescing into bright points of light wherever they meet.

Ah, the choices. Planned for, then— prolonging the make-believe.

He sees an island man. He sees a brilliant scientist. He sees a pirate, an adventurer, a prisoner. He sees their end a dozen times, more, always coming back to the start.

He sees himself— but his point, his thread, is loose.

Not so in control now, are you, Mark?

They must know. They have to know.

With what little wriggle room he has, he reaches out— and changes a couple letters. One at each point. Nothing shifts, nothing breaks, but something is different— hopefully, different enough for his clever attorney to find.

They’re the sharpest he’s ever known. If anyone could, it’s them.

He settles back into his body, still speaking without him— without him!— and pacing before a desk. It doesn’t feel so wrong with his newfound confidence… in fact—

“You want answers.” He smiles to himself, happy to have control again, and for the hell of it, picks up the glass of wine— seemingly, so kindly provided for by the writer. “Well, games were always his forte.”

He’s not sure of the vintage, or even sure of the varietal, given the monochrome nature of his Void, but he takes a sip, anyway.

He tries hard not to gag, but can’t hide his wince. For all his budget, Mark hardly splurged on something decent, it seems.

Suppose that’s the loss of his wine cellar at work.

“But allow me this one moment of self indulgence.”

He sets the wine down. Neither of them will be partaking of it.

“Excuse me—“ 

He stops, holding the box— the conduit in this little foray into pretend— and looks at them from atop the desk. They’re— smiling a little. Not big, but it’s theirs, and if his heart still beat— “Yes?”

“Why’d you pick that wine if you didn’t like it?”

He wants to laugh. Oh, he wants to laugh at that, because in the face of— quite frankly— something frightening and beyond their control, they’re teasing it. He loves them.

He loves them.

“I didn’t,” he admits, truthfully. There’s something so warm in his chest, something he can’t prevent from showing on his face, so fond. “Sometimes we take what we’re given, for better or for worse. This game, for instance. This box.

“So much trouble, all for something so small.” He looks to them curiously, smile fading. “Do you want to know what’s inside this box?

“I didn’t imagine we’d have to be in sewers to get it,” they add dryly. “After all this, I definitely want to know, and it has to be something worth it, or else.”

He’d laugh at the thought, them tearing into Mark for dragging them over hill and dale, but he’s seen what lies ahead. They’ll have time to do it, and the nudging at his body indicates he’s rather short of time himself. “Well, I know how much you like a good game, so throughout your… adventures, I’ve hidden codes. Several codes. Find them all, and you’ll get your truth.”

They don’t look especially pleased at that, but the light comes into their eyes despite the slump of their shoulders— the light that kept them up all night with an encyclopedia or three, classes next morning be damned. “More games. Why am I not surprised?”

They eye him for a few long seconds, brow furrowed, even as the Void rumbles and sparks around them both. It’s too familiar, as if they’re reading him down to his core. “You aren’t Mark, are you? Not some character. But… you’re so familiar. Who… who are you?”

He could give them his name. It might spark something for them, kickstart whatever process they need to regain their memory of what happened. He wouldn’t even care if they screamed at him for all he put them through.

The Void, though, shakes and cracks, and he shakes his head with a slight frown and a mountain of regret. He has a modicum of control, still, but not fully. Not right now. “That’s all I’m going to give you.”

They open their mouth, but the Void winks them away, gone to their next run.

All he can do is sit and watch from here.

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Letters From the Sky

[A/N: Bruv I so rarely write angst because I am a weakling and it makes me Big Sad, but this has been floating around in my drafts and I just binge watched a bunch of NCIS episodes that made me cry so 🤲🏽 a ficlet for u, here u go. It's not really the saddest ending so there's that, at least? I hope? I sorry] Pairing: Jethro Gibbs x wife!reader TW: references to funerals/loss, implied character death

__________

Settling down on the couch in your living room, you tuck your knees underneath one of your husband’s old USMC hoodies and create a makeshift table out of your lap. Writing a letter can help you deal with your emotions, help you move on with life, your mother had advised, and so here you were, pen in hand, staring at the blank piece of paper before you. Hi, I love you and I miss you didn’t quite cut it. And were you supposed to keep adding to the letter daily, filling him in on your life? Was time passing differently for him? How long would it be until you heard his voice again? Could you ask your friend for her thoughts, or would your questions bring up too many bad memories? Head growing fuzzy and eyes growing watery from your endless stream of questions with no answers in sight, you opted to just start writing. Foregoing a greeting, figuring your husband would know exactly who this was from, you let out a deep breath and put pen to paper. 

Funerals are such a funny thing, aren’t they, Jethro? The many faces from your past and present gathered around to celebrate life, lament loss, and say things aloud that they should’ve said to the person who needed to hear it most.

I miss you more than I could ever put into words. It was so strange being there today without you. How many of those solemn events did we attend together throughout the years? Family, friends, colleagues… Too many to count, and most of them senseless losses.

I don’t know how to keep going without you by my side, but it’s been such a blessing to be surrounded by your loved ones. We’ve been trading so many wonderful memories, stories about your fearless feats, your never-ending pursuit of justice, your stubborn nature, your devotion to those lucky enough to know you. I even met one of your former lovers after the funeral, and honey, let me tell you, we got to gossiping. Turns out you’re a regular Casanova, huh? It’s those steel blue eyes that keep you coming back for more, I swear.

I like to think that, even though we’re physically apart now, you can still hear me. After all, you always did say that about my optimism- “from your mouth to God’s ears, sweetheart”. Do you think, if I yelled loud enough, I could get a message delivered to you?

This big house feels even bigger without you. I guess I can think about it like those cases that would last for days, where I wouldn’t even get a glimpse of you until your perp was behind bars, but we both know it’s not quite the same. At least I can raid your closet without hearing you grumble about your favorite hoodies going missing- silver linings, my darling Jethro. I’m not sure how long they’ll keep smelling like you, but I’m determined not to wash them, just in case… My secret’s safe with you, right?

Speaking of secrets (more like hidden gems), I found a stash of Kelly’s artwork upstairs and I’ve started adding her drawings to the gallery of photos on the walls. I know I made some changes after we got married, but the sheer lack of decor when I moved in still astounds me. You’re such a man, she said lovingly.

Anyway, I think you’ll be pleased to know that

The sound of the front door opening alerts you to your friend’s return, and you hurry to jot down your last few thoughts.

Anyway, I think you’ll be pleased to know that your girls are all together in this big house of yours :) Hopefully, we’ll see you soon.

P.S. Not too soon. I know I call you my old man, but you’re not that old- yet.

Gibbs puts his truck in park on the driveway, returning home after another day added to the list of longest days of his life. He sits in the cab for a few prolonged minutes, trying to muster up the courage to enter your big house that feels even bigger now.

When he finally trudges up the walkway, he pauses with his hand on the doorknob and releases a heavy sigh before pushing the door open. And then, for just a split second, he swears he hears you calling his daughter’s name and her answering giggle overlapping with her mother’s voice.

The moment is fleeting, and no matter how hard he strains, he can’t conjure up the sound again. But the house feels warmer, lighter somehow.

And he smiles.

—————

LJG tags 🖤 @ilovemark1951 @doctorwhofan24