#But I have to admit that she did not have that much knowledge about living herself own.

[cordelianewman]

There was almost a relief in Cage's eyes when she said she wasn't going to make this into some kind of thing they planned every single bit of. Maybe if they hadn't conceived in six months to a year they would consider talking to a fertility doctor and tracking at least ovulation but there was no need to go that way until they had to. They had the knowledge to know that Cordelia could get pregnant, it was just more about being the right time and hoping that it actually stuck around. Everything he said made sense, "No I get it, I don't want sex to become a business transaction, something we're strictly doing to get me pregnant. Kind of takes the fun out of it and I don't think we need to do that when we have a pretty great sex life as it is." Which was true, why ruin a good thing? Giving a roll of her eyes, "I didn't mind the bruises on my thighs and hips, I liked it." Looking at him a grin tugging at her lips, "I mean it, I enjoyed it, more than I wanted to admit because I was angry, but angry sex, kinda hot. Maybe a lot hot." she pointed out, because it kind of was, "And it's not some sadistic karma that caused all of this, it was the fact that my body wasn't ready to be pregnant. Maybe stress played a factor into it but no one knows the exact reasons, it wasn't like I fell, it wasn't like I got hurt or did anything crazy it just wasn't the right time. There's nothing wrong with how our first would have been conceived but I get wishing you had been more excited and I won't pretend that I wished you had been happier but I also understand that you weren't there yet." It was hard that for him to realize what he wanted he had to lose that very thing and then have to live with it as much as she did, only experience a different type of guilt feeling. Though neither one of them were guilty of anything. They had done their best with what they had been given, and now moving forward all they could do was try and hope for the best and that it wouldn't become a stressor to them personally or their marriage. Honestly, Cordelia was just happy that Cage was opening up about how he was feeling and everything that had been on his mind. Maybe getting away from Merrock for their anniversary had been the best thing, a place to openly talk away from everything, memories and just get it all out on the table and now look where they were? Communication was at least far better right now, not that she didn't expect there to be hiccups at times. "I can promise you that you will not catch me attempting to pick up hay bales prior to getting pregnant either." After losing the pregnancy so early she wasn't going to risk doing anything too crazy in case she got pregnant, and like what happened didn't know and cause any potential issues, but she also knew she'd go about a lot of her normal every day life like she had before. "Think that sounds fair, Twix and I will give you scores on how good you are at moving the bales, I'll get her her own little score board too." she offered a grin pulling to her lips, "But remember she may love you but she's a harsh critic."

Reaching out she shoved him gently, "Oh shut up, I could have cravings without being pregnant." Which was very true, Cordelia loved food and there was always a chance something could pop up in her mind that she would want, and it didn't mean she was pregnant. "Just buckle in, that's all I'm saying, because who knows I could have wicked cravings, or I could be horribly sick and threaten you to keep all food far, far away from me." Might sound a lot like her saying keep it out of the house and dramatics being her favorite form of emotions she might come up with some kind of crazy thought of get rid of it all, but she wouldn't actually mean it. They had four kids to keep fed, two of which were growing teenage boys that she was convinced were actually trying to eat them out of house and home. "No I agree, I was worried about telling them." When she had been expecting, the way her gut would drop remembering they had to break the news in a way that was kind of like, well here this is, without even having a conversation that they had or hadn't been considering this. Talk about the worst proof of non-safe sex to say it just happened to two teenage boys. "Know that that is where we're at that we can give this new little one, when he or she is ready to you know.... happen, the love and time they deserve. Deep down I think Colton and Shawn would love to have a baby sibling, I know Colton got to be around Rosalyn once she was almost a year old but think he would have enjoyed her as a baby baby, and like you said, Shawn loved having Cienna." she pointed out, maybe it wouldn't go so bad if they pointed out the fact that it was because of the four of them and how much love they proved in their family that gave them the ability to know one last child would be given that same amount of love, respect, and care needed. As she saddled up towards the few cases of jewelry it didn't take long to feel Cage behind, press up against her slightly, hands on her hips. "You know I've always loved the idea of a vintage piece, something that had history even if we don't know the history." Of course her ring was technically going to eventually fall into that category given it had been his mother's diamond. A woman approached them with a soft 'hello' and how could she help them. "Oh we're just looking, we're here on vacation for our anniversary and I kind of wanted to take a peek at a few things special maybe." The woman was kind and generous, asking them how long they had been married, them taking turns to explain the finer parts of their relationship from high school to reuniting, maybe leaving out their difficultly at first reconnecting and the whole soup debacle. "I was hoping to look at some bands maybe? For my left hand. Something antique, maybe pre-1940's if you have anything?" The woman nodding happily before returning with two trays of rings. "Oh!" Cordelia's eyes sparkling seeing all the pretty rings in front of her, definitely obvious that they were dated given the looks of some of them. Trying on a bunch the woman took the time again to explain each ring, the period it was from, Cordelia holding her hand up for Cage to see, knowing he was mostly there to oh and ah, before she picked up a particular ring, this one slipping onto her finger with ease. The woman explained it was from the 1920's, with miners cute diamonds, 7 to be exactly, and Cordelia knew it, the second it fit on her finger and held it up, the seven stones sparkling in the light, she had fallen in love.

There was a sense of relief that filled Cage as Cordelia talked about not wanting to schedule this pregnancy, knowing that it was something that had weighed heavily on him. This couldn't be scheduled or planned, not like her school, his work, their childrens' day to day lives, this had to happen when it happened, naturally. When the time was right. "I don't want to have sex to make a baby," Cage chose his words carefully, narrowing his eyes as he thought it over, "I want to get pregnant because on a random Wednesday night, you looked at me a certain way and I kissed you a little too long in the hallway and it just happened, you know?" His voice was softer as he said it, almost a little shy, but he didn't want or need the fanfare. If they couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that they had made a baby because it was borne out of the love between them, then that was more than enough for him, and he paused for a moment, emotion thickening his tone the tiniest amount as he pulled his teeth from the lip that he had bitten onto while thinking and spoke, drawing in a breath, "as sad as I am about what happened and always will be, there's a part of me that's relieved that I can do this right." It was tough to admit, and he didn't want to say it out loud, but felt like he needed to, felt like they had to go through every step of this honestly with one another. "You know that I will love our baby, no matter what, but there was a part of me that was… ashamed, that -- I don't know, that I left those bruises on your thighs and hips and got you pregnant when we were angry at each other and then reacted the way I did, that I couldn't just be happy, even though I wanted to. It's part of why I felt like it was my fault… that we lost the baby. Like maybe it was some sort of sick karma." Cage knew better, but it had still stuck in his gut, twisting beneath his ribs when he thought about it. And he had admitted it to her, but he hadn't been able to put words to it until everything had finally settled. Until he knew it wasn't true, until he had digested the news over and over again. He lifted his free hand to brush at the corner of his eye, not realizing that they had become wet, blaming it on the slight breeze that day before he let out a laugh, shaking his head, "no, nothing like that. You know better than anyone what you can handle, but I'm going to step in and put my foot down if I catch you trying to carry around hay bales at eight months pregnant, and I think that's fair. Instead, you can watch me haul around the hay bales and spend time with your best friend Twix. How's that?"

Cage's face scrunched up as Cordelia talked about the possibilities of cravings, making note of what she would and would not want, and how fast that could change, holding his breath before letting it out. "Too late to change my mind, I guess?" But he was only joking, knowing that nothing about her cravings would ever push him to take back the decision that he had made, even if she woke him up at three in the morning with an elbow in the ribs and wanted pickle flavored something or other that made him gag at the thought of it. He'd find a way through it. "I think that's part of why it's important to talk to them now," he squeezed her hand as he said it, "to understand how they are going to feel about it, and have the time to talk to them and make them understand how we feel about it -- or try. It's better that we're all able to talk than to just drop it in their laps." Telling the boys that Cordelia was pregnant, that they were having a baby, without giving them any indication that they were trying might have come across as though they didn't care about their opinions, that they were moving on with their lives. "I think…" he wet his lips, "maybe telling them that we want to have a baby because we feel like we have the perfect family to love them, to help raise them and take care of them will help them realize that they're a part of it, does that make sense?" he looked down at his wife, "that the only reason we feel like we can do this is because we know how good they are, how much they love each other, and we feel like it's the right environment for them to love another little girl or boy." That was the catch, that this wouldn't just be Cage and Cordelia's biological son or daughter, that this little one wouldn't be any better or more important than any other Newman or Austin or Browning under that roof -- but it would be Shawn and Colton and Cienna and Rosalyn's little brother or sister, it would be as much a part of them as it was their parents. He rolled his own eyes playfully as she talked about the clothes disappointment, and then stole another kiss, before he found himself browsing the little shop, enjoying a few items here and there, but ultimately letting her lead him back down the sidewalk, until… oh no, shiny. "Wait up," he groused on a laugh, heading in after her and knowing that she was going to make a beeline for the sparkly things, coming to a stop behind her with both hands gently resting on her hips, body brushing against hers from behind as he looked over her shoulder at the pieces she had been drawn to from outside.

[lesmisscraper]

Fantine Working at the Madeleine's Factory. Volume 1, Book 5, Chapter 8.

Clips from <Il cuore di Cosette>.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Knowing

I have just had the worst, or best, brainwave and I need to share it. 

Here is an AU for you.

Vader thinks that he killed his wife and child, right?

Right up until he meets little Leia Organa when she is 10 years old. Like his one brain cell woke the fuck up when he was confronted with a passionate, angry little girl with Padme’s eyes and his chin. This is maybe a month after she was kidnapped and returned to Alderaan. Leia decides that she would need to learn how to be a senator and insists that Bail takes her with him to the next session of the imperial senate.  

Bail does not want to bring her to the imperial senate. However he knows very well who her birth parents were, it is either Bail brings Leia to the Imperial Senate or Leia brings Leia to the Imperial Senate, probably bringing with her someone she really shouldn’t (Like actual Obi Wan Kenobi-I just want you to picture for a moment, because Bail certainly did, looking up and realizing that Leia is charging down the halls outside his office, dragging with her a bemused and sandy Obi Wan, both in badly conceived disguises).

Bail is super stressed as he tries to run a rebellion while riding herd on his well meaning but very direct 10 year old daughter on top of his normal duties as an imperial senator. Bail is also very afraid that the moment the Emperor sees Leia, he will make the connection between Leia and Padme Amidala (The emperor does not socialize with the senate any longer, thank the stars). He has no idea that Vader was once Anakin Skywalker, so has no cause to be more careful than normal (because Vader) about Vader seeing Leia. As such Bail does not even notice when Vader stops to consider them from the shadows. Leia is haranguing another planet’s senatorial aide who had chosen the wrong moment to make a bigoted joke. 

Vader is very abruptly, though mentally, thrown back to this very hallway 12 years earlier where he watched his wife do the same thing, for the same reason, possibly to this same aide. Though Leia is still a child and Padme was an adult, he can still see his wife in this little girl.

The realization that this is Padme’s child hits him with the force of a Ventanor. Followed immediately, before he even realized that this meant that his child was standing in front of him, by the soul deep knowledge that she must be protected from the Emperor at all costs. 

Vader had known for years that his suit had been designed to cause him more pain, he just thought he deserved it. The thought of Palpatine getting ahold of Padme’s daughter was abhorrent. Vader sticks to the shadows and watches, seeing how well Bail loved and protected Leia. 

While he is thinking(read Obsessing) about his daughter, the part of him that is always centered on Obi Wan points out that his old master had been one of the last people to see Padme after Vader choked her. But the little voice that spoke in Padme’s tones piped up, the shock of Leia living being enough to finally make this little voice loud enough to be heard, saying that until recently Obi Wan believed that Anakin Skywalker was all the way dead, he was protecting their child as best as he knew how. 

And Vader has issues with just about every choice Obi Wan Kenobi ever made. But he will admit that hiding Padme’s daughter was the best option. 

As Vader knows that paying too much attention to Leia would draw the Emperor’s attention, he would be willing to wait until the right moment to get his daughter back. His one concession to his need to protect her was taking one of his personal guard, one of the few units still made up almost entirely of clones, and assigning them to be Leia Organa’s bodyguard, her shadow (I also want you to take a moment to consider what that did for Bail’s stress level).  And then Vader gets to planning. 

With his one brain cell awake and focused on the Organa’s it takes Vader all of 15 minutes to realize that Bail Organa is running the Rebellion (I want it to be clear, this is not a slight on Bail at all, Anakin Skywalker was a war general, well educated through the Jedi on a number of subjects, and does have a fair measure of politics learning from both his former master and his dead wife).  However Vader is no more loyal to the Empire than Anakin was to the Republic.  In fact, upon realizing that Padme’s daughter had lived Vader firmly decided that he needed to find a way to kill Palpatine to crown Leia.  With the realization that Bail, and likely Leia (neither Vader nor Anakin have any idea what activities are appropriate for a 10 year old), are part of the Rebellion, Vader decides that The Rebellion would succeed (or everyone would die trying). 

Note: Vader only really gets away with no one realizing that he now supported the Rebellion because, well, no one can quite believe that Darth Vader supports the Rebellion. Most people think there is a new type of Space Madness, and that one of the symptoms is hallucinating Darth Vader giving you intel for the Rebellion.

By the time Leia was a teenager, rumors abound about the odd way that Vader acted around her. By sheer happenstance (and some judicial violence on Vader’s part) these rumors had never reached the Emperor. A good deal of these rumors implied that Vader was looking to the Princess of Alderaan as a wife.  The reaction Vader had, the only time it was brought up in front of him, was…impressive, even for the amount of violence he normally dealt out. Still there are members of Vader’s personal guard who watch over Leia whenever she is on Imperial Center, and no one wants to repeat the time when she was 12 when one of Bail enemies tried to kidnap her for ransom.  It took an entire corps of engineers to put those levels back to rights (after they scrubbed the blood off).  

So we get all the way up to the timeframe of ANH. The Death Star in this does not start out under the control of Darth Vader. It starts out under the control of Tarkin, it is important to note this. Leia still sends out R2D2 and C3P0 to find Obi Wan Kenobi, none of that part changes. 

It is after Leia is captured that Darth Vader shows up (does he lurk silently in any system that Leia is due to be in as often as he can get away with…why yes, yes he does). Tarkin had wanted Leia tortured, however no one wanted to find out how many decks Vader would spread their entrails across for touching her.  Vader arrives on the bridge just as Tarkin is threatening to blow up Alderaan. Tarkin orders the weapon to begin its charge. 

Leia, Leia who is so like her mother in that she will use every weapon in her arsenal, turns to Darth Vader and speaks to him for the first time. ‘Please’ she said, no effort to hide her distress, ‘please save my planet’

Something Leia had no cause to know-An angel who she resembled once thanked Anakin Skywalker for saving her planet. 

Tarkin is dead almost before she finishes speaking. Vader orders the DS weapons to power down and disengage, which is done post haste. Then announces that Leia Organa was now in control. 

So Leia now owns a Death Star (genuine article-never used). Leia is not sure if that is how this works, but no one is arguing with the tall man in black who has OPINIONS and will enforce them.  Leia manages to communicate this to her parents, who take a shuttle up to the space station to figure out what the fuck is going on, and what, if anything, they need to do next.

Two hours later: Obi Wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, R2D2, C3P0, and Chewbacca have just been caught trying to sneak onto the Death Star. The Organas are still on board, trying to get answers (In that time Vader has said precisely five words to them ‘You have raised her well’).  It is to this room that the troopers manning the station (who are deeply confused and a bit conflicted because it seems like they may have all been forcibly defected from the Empire, but no one is willing to disobey Lord Vader) bring Obi Wan and co. and present them to Leia, as she is considered in command.  Somehow Luke’s full name (I kind of picture him still dumbly introducing himself to Leia, followed with ‘we’re here to rescue you’) gets used before the situation deteriorates. Which naturally causes everything to deteriorate further and faster than before.  

Far away on Imperial Center, the Emperor pauses in the middle of a hallway ‘I feel’ he says to no one ‘a disturbance in the Force.’ another pause ‘like some shit has just hit the fan’

Far away on Dagobah Yoda looks up, ‘weird, shit just got’

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Secret Conversation- Thranduil x Human!Reader

Summary: Bard brings his Sindarin speaking friend when going to talk to Thranduil and Thranduil decides to flirt with her

Word count: 1, 352

A/N: italics is spoken in Sindarin

Though you hadn’t known Bard for very long, only looking after his kids for the past four months, when he told you of his meeting with Thranduil, you had insisted on joining him. You didn’t tell many people, but you did know Sindarin and you believed you’d be a good asset to your new friend.

Even though you stood beside Bard and he acted as a buffer between you and the famed king of the woodland realm, it was difficult to not feel intimidated. Even in such a simple throne in a cloth tent, he still held such power and grace to him, so much so that it was hard to take your eyes from him.

Honestly, you could have stared at the king for hours, but you decided that standing beside Bard and trying to not draw much attention to yourself was the best course of action. Unfortunately however, your wandering looks still managed to catch the attention of the elvish king, and his gaze often caught yours.

Trying your best to stay out of the way as you stood beside your friend, a guard came in to give word to Thranduil.

“What are they saying?” Bard gently asked you, not realising that the elves would definitely be able to hear him, though the whisper was extremely quiet.

“He’s just keeping Thranduil informed of the guard change, and that the number of guards will be increasing now that the sun is lower.” You whisper back as quietly as possible, although you knew he’d hear you.

Thranduil obviously heard your response and it intrigued him. As the kings gaze flicked over to the two of you, Bard stood straighter and your eyes fell to the floor. Though you did not look at him, you could tell Thranduils eyes were watching you intently.

Desperately you kept your gaze on the ground, hoping your knowledge of his language would not get you or Bard into trouble.

“So that is why you brought her along, because she knows of our language. Is that right, girl?” Thranduil teasingly enquires.

“Ye-yes.” You nervously whisper, as your eyes slowly rise to meet Thranduils enchanting stare.

“Interesting. How is it you know our tongue?” Thranduil continues to interrogate, appearing both intimidating and alluring as he looks you over while he talks.

“M-my mother was a linguist. She studied many languages and often acted as a translator for political matters. She shared her love of language and reading with me.” You timidly admit, the thought of your mother helping you to feel less intimidated before such a powerful king.

“She sounds like a very interesting woman.” Thranduil says, offering you a gentle smile, which you give him in return.

“Now I do have questions for your ears alone.” The king asks now in his own tongue, obviously not wanting Bard to hear.

Bard knows this is Thranduils intent and turns to you, worried about what he might have said. You give Bard a reassuring smile and look back to Thranduil.

“What is it you’d like to know?” You reply in his own language.

Hearing you speak Sindarin makes his eyes shine and a cheeky smile to appear on his face as he sits up straighter. Thranduil liked the way you sounded when you spoke in his own tongue. You sounded so enchanting and his fascination for you seemed to grow.

“Do you live with him?” Quickly came Thranduils first question, of what you’d assumed would be many.

“No, I simply care for his children when he is away working.”

Confirmation that Bard and yourself were not together seemed to interest him even more, as he now uncrossed his legs and positioned his body to face you more.

“Such a pretty young thing taking care of another man’s children. Surely you have wondered how it would feel to take on more wifely duties for him. Though he’s not my type, he seems to be the most handsome and intelligent man among your townsfolk. Has a thought not crossed your mind as to how he could make you feel? How his experienced hands may bring you pleasure?” Thranduils enchanting eyes bore into your own, as if he was looking into your very soul, pinning you to your spot.

Bard could sense that Thranduil was trying to intimidate you and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“We can leave if you like.” Bard kindly whispered in your ear, the comment making Thranduils grin grow.

You’d have to be blind to not be attracted to Thranduil and you were not one to back down from a challenge. You wanted to see how far he would go with this game, and honestly, you might have your own fun flirting back with the elvish king.

“Would you like that? Like to leave with him? Well not with him, he would still not warm your bed or draw pleasure from you in the way you desire.”

A slight smirk of your own played on your lips as you saw your opening to meet his challenge. What Thranduil was saying wasn’t necessarily wrong, of course you’d thought of Bard in such a way, but they were more fleeting thoughts of fancy than they were actual desires. The woodland king however? He was beginning to fill you with desires.

“What if I chose to stay here? Would you fulfil my desires, Thranduil?” The kings body erupted as he heard you speak his name.

“I have only slept with the race of men. Tell me, would a night with you bring greater pleasure than what a man could provide?” You meet his challenge in a way he was not expecting. He smirked and looked down as he saw the way you held onto Bards forearm, pretending it was for courage, but both you and the king knew it was to tease him.

“Oh you sweet girl. I have lived more lives than all the men you’ve had combined. I could draw pleasure from you that you had never thought possible. Why if your friend wasn’t standing there, I’d taking you right now in this tent. I’d want to be slow with you, give you your pleasure again and again, but with the way you tease me, I think I might have to take a different approach.” Thranduils flirting continues, though his voice is kept neutral as to not draw too much attention to what you both were really talking about.

“And what approach would that be, your highness?” You meet his challenge, his formal title making the fires inside him grow.

“A more assertive one. Where I rip your blouse down the middle so I can see more of what I know is a beautiful body, and so I can bite and kiss and lick more of your skin. I can be a very tolerable and patient elf, but you have made me desperate. I would push you against the table and take you from behind. I’d have you in a way no man ever has before, but that would be just the beginning of our night. If you don’t leave with him, I will have you in every way there is to have a lover, for as long as your human body can take.”

By the time Thranduil had finished talking, your body was on fire, and you were about ready to pounce on him right here and now, but you knew you had to keep a calm disposition with Bard still standing beside you.

Turning to your friend, you keep your eyes serious as you look to him.

“Go back to the children, I need to discuss some things with Thranduil. I’m not sure how long I’ll be but I’ll find you in the morning. I’ll be okay.” You sweetly explain to your friend, covering any suspicion of ulterior motive.

Bard turned to look at Thranduil, giving him a warning look, before turning back to you.

“Okay, be safe and I’ll be keeping an eye out for your return.” Bard sweetly smiled at you, before leaving the tent.

Turning to Thranduil, you both wore matching devilish smirks.

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Kinktober - Day 6

6th — love bite/ marking/ vampire!AU, Oscar Piastri

The previous day I The next day I Kinktober masterlist I Main list

A/n: I'm sorry I must have hit the wrong button and got this deleted.

Prompt: A story about Oscar as a vampire. He has a young maid who has a secret crush on him. One day to save him she lets him drink his blood but unexpectedly the night that follows while he is making love to a girl he can hear her thoughts, and let’s be honest those thoughts are very filthy. 

—--------------------------------------------

Oscar had always been a vampire of restraint. Centuries ago, he mastered the art of control. Control over his hunger, his desires, and the fragile line he walked between predator and protector. He lived alone in his mansion, surrounded by a sparse staff who knew little of his true nature. One among them was Alice, his young maid, who always moved about the house with a silent, doe-eyed reverence. Oscar had hired Alice about a year ago when he found out that upkeeping his large mansion was too much to do alone.

Alice had been over the moon getting the job. She was provided with her own bedroom, with an en-suite. She was also allowed to use the smaller maid’s kitchen at the back of the house. 

Oscar greatly enjoyed her company and adored her. She was a bright, bubbly young girl with a heart of gold. She had a laid-back attitude towards life, which Oscar really liked about her. It took a lot to get her wound up or angry, in fact, he had never seen her even slightly angry or pissed off. She was attentive to his needs and always cheered him up if he was having a bad day.

Alice was smitten with her master. He was very kind to her, and always made sure she had whatever she needed along with an amazing wage every month. He was easy to talk to; they always had a laugh together. But over the course of the year, she found herself more and more in Oscar’s company during dinner in the main kitchen. Alice had a secret, a crush that lingered beneath her every glance, woven into every word she spoke to him. She adored Oscar in ways she never dared admit, not even to herself. The way his eyes held centuries of knowledge, his dark hair falling effortlessly across his brow, and his very presence dominated a room without effort—it all left her breathless. But to him, she was merely a servant.

That night, however, changed everything.

Oscar had been wounded, a rare encounter with another vampire who sought to challenge his power. Blood dripped from his wounds, his strength fading faster than it should. Alice had stumbled upon him in the parlor, half-conscious and in need of blood, the only thing that could heal him. She knew the risk, knew that offering her blood was more than an act of servitude—it was an invitation to something much deeper. But she couldn't bear to see him suffer.

“I can help you,” Alice whispered, her hands trembling as she approached him. Her pulse quickened at the thought, a strange mix of fear and desire thrumming through her veins.

Oscar’s eyes, gleaming with hunger and vulnerability, met hers. "Alice, no... you don’t understand."

But she did. Her neck was exposed, and before he could protest further, she pressed it against his lips. Oscar's instinct took over. He bit into her flesh, drinking deeply. The warmth of her blood flowed through him like fire, reigniting the strength he had lost. But there was something different about Alice’s blood—something intoxicating, something that pulled him closer to her than he ever imagined.

He pulled back, gasping, as the wound healed almost instantly. Alice collapsed into his arms, weak but alive. There was a flicker of something in her eyes as she gazed at him, her lips parted as though she wanted to say more. But the words never came. Exhaustion claimed her, and Oscar carried her to her quarters, ensuring her safety before retreating to his own.

Later night a few days after, Oscar found himself in the company of another—a woman he had been drawn to for the past few days, her presence a distraction from the chaos of his existence. They made love under the dim glow of light, her breathless moans filling the room. Yet, as he sank into the moment, something strange began to happen.

Thoughts. Not his own, but hers—no, not the woman beneath him, but Alice’s.

They flooded his mind, sharp and vivid, breaking into his consciousness. And they weren’t innocent thoughts. They were... filthy.

“I wonder if he knows how long I’ve wanted him.”“I’d let him take me—anyway he wants—if he only asked.”“I’d do anything for him... anything.”

Oscar’s breath caught. The connection—Alice’s blood—had done more than heal him. It had forged a bond between them, one that allowed him to hear her innermost desires, the ones she buried beneath her soft smiles and lowered eyes. He could hear every heated, lust-filled thought as though she were whispering them into his ear.

Beneath him, the woman sensed his distraction, her hands pulling at him to keep him present. But Oscar’s mind was somewhere else—on Alice, on her secret longings that now pulsed in his mind like a dangerous temptation.

“I want to feel his hands on me.”

He clenched his jaw, trying to push the thoughts away, but they only grew stronger, more insistent. Alice’s fantasies unravelled in his mind—images of him, of what she wanted him to do to her, how she wanted to surrender to him in every possible way. She was so innocent on the surface, but beneath, her thoughts were anything but.

Oscar’s control, the centuries of restraint he had built, began to waver. He could hear her even now, miles away in the safety of her own bed, likely still weak from the blood loss. She was thinking of him—no, desiring him. And now he knew it all.

As the woman beneath him moaned, Oscar found himself pulling away, the weight of Alice’s desires drowning out everything else. His breath was ragged, his eyes clouded with conflict.

How could he face her now, knowing the depth of her secret obsession? And worse—how could he ignore the dangerous pull of his own growing hunger for her?

The night had begun with him taking her blood to save himself. But now, it was her thoughts, her wanton desires, that consumed him, threatening to undo the very restraint he had fought so hard to maintain.

As the woman beneath him moaned, Oscar’s mind was elsewhere, consumed by the rush of Alice’s hidden fantasies. She, who had seemed so innocent and reserved, was secretly obsessed with him, her thoughts growing filthier by the second. His centuries of restraint faltered as he found himself drawn to her in ways he hadn’t anticipated. The bond between them was becoming dangerous, and Oscar knew that what began with saving his life could lead to a passion that would consume them both. Alice, once the shy maid, was now the centre of Oscar's growing hunger, her desire and submission pulling him into a darker, more dangerous realm of his own making. The night that began with a single sip of blood would be the start of something much deeper and far more uncontrollable. 

In the days that followed, Oscar couldn’t escape the pull of Alice’s thoughts. They invaded his mind when he least expected it—while he paced through the empty halls of the mansion, while he fed, and especially in the quiet moments before dawn when the world went still. Alice’s desires played on a loop, her fantasies vivid, graphic, and relentless. What had once been hidden behind her modest demeanour was now fully exposed to him, and the more he tried to block it out, the louder it became.

He’d catch glimpses of her throughout the day, going about her duties, unaware of the storm her thoughts were causing inside him. But now, every brush of her hand against his or even her quiet presence in a room sent his senses into overdrive. She was no longer just Alice the maid; she had become a living embodiment of temptation. And he couldn’t stop thinking about her blood—the way it had tasted, how it had awakened something deep and primal inside him.

One evening, after a long stretch of fighting against the bond, Oscar decided he needed answers. He found Alice in the kitchen, her hands busy scrubbing a table, lost in her own world. She didn’t notice him at first, but when she looked up, her eyes widened, caught off guard by his intense gaze. There was something different about him—something dangerous. He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate.

“You… you’ve been thinking of me,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

Alice froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She had no idea how much he knew, but the way he was looking at her made her knees weak. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered, trying to maintain her composure.

But Oscar wasn’t fooled. He reached out, brushing his fingers against her wrist, and in that instant, he heard her thoughts again—clear as day.

“God, I want him to touch me… to take me right here…”

Her mind was an open book now, and she couldn’t hide from him anymore. The connection between them had become too powerful, the blood bond tying them together in ways neither of them had anticipated. Oscar could feel her desire as though it were his own, and it took everything in him not to give in to the temptation that was pulsing between them.

“You’ve wanted this,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. “For so long.”

Alice’s breath hitched, her body betraying her with the way it leaned into his touch, craving the contact she had only dreamed of. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I’ve wanted you… always.”

The confession sent a surge of heat through Oscar. His restraint was unravelling fast. He could hear her heart racing, and smell the intoxicating scent of her blood coursing beneath her skin. Every fibre of his being wanted to sink his teeth into her again, to claim her fully, not just as a servant but as something much more.

Oscar's hand slid up Alice's side, his touch possessive and hungry. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her body betraying how much she craved this, craved him. With a low, animalistic sound, he sank his fangs into her neck, piercing deep.

A moan escaped Alice's lips as Oscar began to drink, her body arching into him. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. Every pull of his mouth sent a wave of pleasure through her, the bond between them amplifying every sensation. As he drank, Oscar's hand moved lower, finding the hem of Alice's skirt. He pushed it up roughly, his cold fingers tracing patterns on her bare thigh. “Oscar,” she whimpered, her head lolling to the side as he continued to drink from her.”

His thumb circled her slowly, in rhythm with his drinking. Alice's breathing grew shallower, her hips bucking against his hand. She was drowning in sensation, the line between pain and pleasure blurring. “Oscar, please,” she gasped, her voice hoarse with need.”

With a growl, Oscar tore his mouth from her neck and stood up, lifting Alice onto the kitchen counter. He shoved her skirt up around her waist and buried his face between her legs, his mouth devouring her soaked panties. He licked and sucked at her through the thin fabric, the taste of her arousal making him dizzy with lust. Alice cried out, her hands fisting in his hair. In a flash, Oscar ripped her panties off and threw them aside.

Oscar looked up at Alice from between her thighs, his eyes glinting with dark intent. " Spread your legs wider," he commanded, his voice low and dominating. "I want to taste all of you."

Alice hesitantly spread her thighs wider, exposing herself fully to him. Oscar growled approvingly, burying his face back against her heat. He licked and sucked, his hands gripping her thighs painfully tight. "You're so sweet, Alice," he muttered against her. ​​His fingers joined his mouth, slipping inside her as he suckled her most sensitive spot. Alice's hips bucked against his face, her hands scrambling for purchase on the cold countertop. "Oscar, I... I can't... it's too much..."

"You can take it," Oscar said firmly, his fingers pumping into her as his mouth suckled hard. "Come for me, Alice. Show me how you like my touch." His words were like a trigger, sending her over the edge.

Alice threw her head back, a scream tearing from her throat as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Oscar continued to lap at her, his fingers curling inside her to draw out the sensation. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice hoarse with desire. 

Alice's eyes fluttered open, gaze meeting Oscar's as he finally pulled away from her dripping pussy. He stood up, his face and hands covered in her juices. "Now, it's my turn," he said, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "Undo my pants," he ordered, his eyes boring into hers. Alice hesitantly slid off the counter, her legs shaking from her release. She reached out trembling hands and fumbled with his belt, her eyes flicking up to his as she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. Oscar's erection sprang free, hard and throbbing. He grabbed Alice's hair, forcing her to her knees. "Worship it," he demanded, his grip tightening. "Show me how grateful you are for my attention." He rubbed the swollen head of his cock against her lips, smearing them with precum. As Alice timidly stuck out her tongue to taste him, Oscar's hold on her hair gentled. He let out a low groan as her tongue caressed him, her hesitancy making the act all the more intimate. "Like that, my Alice,"

He guided her head forward, helping her take him deeper. "Use your hands too," he encouraged, his voice lower, less demanding. Alice tentatively reached out, wrapping her small hand around the base of him. She looked up at him as she took him deeper, her eyes watering slightly.

Oscar's breath hitched as Alice's hands and mouth worked him over. He threaded his fingers through her hair, gently guiding her pace. "That's it, my sweet," he whispered, his eyes locked on hers. "You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth." 

"Can I... can I touch myself while I do this?" Alice asked, her voice muffled by him. Oscar's eyes darkened at her request. "Yes, touch yourself," he encouraged, his voice hoarse. "I want to feel you come undone while you pleasure me." Alice slid her hand between her thighs, touching herself in rhythm with her bobbing head. The dual sensations sent Oscar over the edge. "Alice... I'm going to..."

Alice nodded, her eyes widening as she felt the first hot spurts against her tongue. Oscar gripped her hair tightly, his hips jerking forward as he finished in her mouth. When he finally pulled back, Alice licked her lips, swallowing every last drop. "Good girl," 

He praised, his chest heaving. Alice sat back on her heels, her face flushed and her hands shaking slightly. Oscar reached out and gently pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. "You did so well, my love," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. He pulled her up, kissing her deeply as she tasted herself on his lips. "Now it's my turn to make you feel good," he said, guiding her to the bed. He lay down, patting his chest. "Climb on, my love."

Alice straddled him, positioning his hardening member at her entrance. She looked down at him, her heart racing with excitement and affection. Oscar smiled up at her, his eyes warm with love and possession. "Ride me, Alice," he commanded softly. "Make yourself feel good on my cock.” Alice sank down onto him, throwing her head back in pleasure as he filled and stretched her. She began to move, finding a rhythm. Oscar's hands gripped her hips, guiding her motions. "That's it, my love," he praised, watching her breasts bounce as she rode him.

Leaning forward, Oscar captured one of her bouncing breasts in his mouth, suckling as Alice continued to ride him. Her hands braced on his chest, her movements growing faster, more desperate. He released her breast, looking up at her. "Touch yourself again, my love."

Alice obeyed, sliding her free hand between her thighs to rub her clit in time with her movements on his lap. The sensation was overwhelming, and she threw her head back, crying out as she reached her climax. Oscar helped her, pressing his thumb against her clit as she came hard on his lap. Her limbs went slack as she slumped forward, spent from her release. Oscar flipped their positions so that he was on top. He grabbed her legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he thrust into her hard, his own release building. "Good girl, Alice," Oscar praised, his voice tight as she milked him with her inner muscles. With a few more thrusts, he joined her in release, burying his face in her cleavage as they clung to each other, spent and satisfied. "You are now my equals, Alice,"

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[folkloresthings]

Hello darling I have a request from prompt ‘we were supposed to be just friends’. Lando x fem!reader, she work as legal for McLaren, they met at the McLaren technology center, and from the begging they had this special bond. During a party in a disco in uk with his friends, he stay very close to her and try to kiss her. After a sec of confusion, they kissing each other.

❛ ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? ❜ ❨ lando norris x reader ❩

where lando has loved the mclaren legal officer from the second he set eyes on her and has finally decided to do something about it.

eight months out of university and working in a coffee shop was not exactly how you had pictured your life post-graduation. you had a law degree from one of the best schools in england, but all it was doing was gathering dust on a frame in your living room. nights were spent in front of the television, only half paying attention, with your laptop screen lit up with job postings. it was like the four years of knowledge was itching to be used, instead of idle hands pouring overpriced iced lattes.

admittedly, you didn't remember applying for the job at mclaren. you were so desperate that you had sent your resume to every posting you could find, barely sparing a second glance at the job summary. it was only when they emailed with an interview date did you do your research. they were a formula one team, and a pretty good one at that. the sport had never much been your thing so you hadn't a clue what kind of work you'd be doing.

but it was work. legal work.

the interview went smoothly, then the second, and the third. they seemed to love you and your education. thankfully the internships you had done during university made up for your lack of experience. they hired you and had you come up to headquarters the next day. the drive from london to woking was full of jitters, turning your radio up to block out the nervous thoughts.

"ah, y/n! welcome to the mclaren technology centre." zak brown was the one to greet you by the front desk, with a smile and a firm handshake. you had spoken during your last interview, the final hurdle with the boss, and thankfully you got along fine. despite your age and greenness in the legal world, zak admitted he saw potential in you. they had gone through six other employees in the past two years for this position, all much older and more experienced. they needed a change.

"this is where you'll be working when you're in-office," zak explained, leading the way through a tour of the centre. it was much bigger than you expected, so modern and open. yeah, you could picture yourself here. "we usually would have you here one or two days a week, the others you can work from home. is that okay?"

"that's perfect," you agree, nodding happily. "i live in london, so the drive is only about an hour."

zak grins, continuing the tour and filling each space with small talk; your education, upbringing, hobbies. he only laughed when you sheepishly told him you knew very little about formula one, and didn't have a huge interest in the sport.

"you'd be surprised how many people here don't watch it," he chuckled, his american accent strange in the midst of the english countryside. "ah, speaking of. boys!"

in the foyer, at the end of the hall, two heads whip around at zak's call. both in the mclaren colours, one was thinner and smiling crookedly. the other, well. he was...

"lando, oscar, i want you to meet y/n. she's our new internal legal officer," zak explained. "meaning if you fuck up in any way, she'll have to deal with it."

the three men laugh, bringing your own bashful smile to wake.

"hi, i'm oscar," the thinner boy speaks in a soft australian accent, shaking your hand. "but it's lando here that you'll have to keep an eye on. i'm always on my best behaviour."

lando. he'd been staring at you since zak dragged you over to them, barely blinking despite for the odd laugh. he blushes then, gently nudging oscar with his elbow. he meets your eyes and his mouth goes dry, lips parting like a fish out of water as he tries desperately to think of something witty to say.

"don't worry, if you don't do anything wrong then i won't have anything to do," you jest, breaking the silence. a grin pulls at your mouth with the words, soon mirrored by the two drivers.

"i think i'd rather you didn't, then," zak scoffs, patting your shoulder. "go get settled, i'll come check on you in a while. boys, we've got that meeting in ten — c'mon."

smiling gratefully, you nod towards zak as he leaves — a silent thank you for his hospitality. oscar waves shyly, turning on his heel to hurry after his boss. lando follows suit, just about pulling his eyes from you, but only makes it a few steps before he's turning back.

"it was, uh, nice to meet you," he murmurs, clearing his throat. "hopefully i'll see you around."

biting at your cheek, holding back a small laugh, you nod. "hopefully."

lando finds himself grinning, walking a few yards backwards just to spare another minute looking at you. oscar calls for him and forces the teammate to hurry, shoes scuffing against polished tile as he catches up.

"stare much?" oscar asks him once they're side by side, a knowing smirk twisting upward.

"shut up," lando mumbles, but his own smile flickers. "she's pretty."

after that day, lando and you became close friends. he would sneak upstairs from briefings to bring you a coffee ("extra caramel, of course") and hide out in your office. he would vent to you about changes zak was, or wasn't, making with the car. you would confide in his about particularly stressful cases you would get handed. on days you weren't in the office, lando would text you pictures of him and oscar bored in meetings.

but the worst was race weekends. very rarely did you go along with the rest of the team, as there was little need for you there. if something went wrong, you could fix it from your desk in england. lando sent you updates from each city, everything from the track to sightseeings. you would often reply with a picture of your rainy window in central london and a sad face. and each sunday, you would sit up and watch the race with your fingers crossed. no matter the time, you were there. and when a race went particularly bad, you would wait up for the phone call from lando, needing a shoulder to lean on.

the staff at mclaren began saying you two were joined at the hip, partners in crime, so often not seen without the other. the best of friends.

"hey," lando chirped, knuckles rapping on your office door one friday morning. he had two coffees in his hand, as usual, perching both them and himself on top of your desk. "you going to the office party tonight?"

"open bar, free cocktails, seeing mark from marketing drunk?" you hummed thoughtfully, sipping at the hot drink. "you bet i am."

lando laughs, head thrown back slightly. the knowledge that you'll be there relaxes him, actually letting him look forward to the mandatory night out. "okay, good. i'll see you then."

"see you tonight," you call after him, watching until he disappears around the nearest corner. luckily, zak lets everyone go an hour early in account for the party starting at eight. you hurry home, sorting through every outfit option and getting ready as quickly as you can. the club was on the other side of london, at least forty minutes on the train, hence your rushing out the door with only one heel buckled.

inside of the club, completely booked out by zak for the company's pleasure, you realised just how many people worked in the world that was mclaren. legal was such a small part of it, a tiny cog in the whole machine. it was quite overwhelming, if it wasn't for the fact that you knew so many of the faces.

"y/n, hey!" the familiar sydney accent pulls your eyes to the nearby bar. oscar waves you over, smiling as you weave your way into a hug. "this is lily, my girlfriend."

you recognised the girl from pictures, but she was even prettier in real life. you exchange bright hello's, hugging in greeting while oscar orders you both some drinks.

"it's so nice to finally meet you!" lily beams, tucking her hair behind her ears. "i've heard so much."

curiosity peaks you, head tilted ever so slightly. "you have?"

"yeah, of course. lando is always—"

her words are cut short by a wide-eyed oscar, shoving in between you both to give you your drinks. "ha, hey! let's go sit, hm?"

your brows furrow, only more confused when lily shoots you an apologetic look. she takes your hand to lead you through the crowd to a booth at the other wall. amongst a few individuals you vaguely recognise, lando sits sipping a beer. he looks up when he hears oscar greet them, but his eyes instantly shoot to you.

"jesus," he mutters, quiet enough that only max next to him hears. you look absolutely stunning, your figure newly shown off by the little dress you have on. it falls to about mid-thigh, the rest of your legs accentuated by the heels you had on. your hair and makeup has been done a bit more than it would for work, and the sight has lando's stomach churning.

you squeeze in next to lily, across the table from lando. he can't tear his eyes away from you, even when max tries to strike up conversation. all you're doing is talking to lily, leaning over into each other to hear properly, face lighting up every so often with a laugh.

"so, that's who's had you so distracted recently?" max eventually catches lando's attention, watching his best friend's eyes widen. "she's pretty."

pretty? lando though. she was gorgeous.

"we're just friends," lando explains, shaking his head.

"bro, you've been staring at her like she's the only person in the room for the last twenty minutes," max laughs airily, nudging him. lando scoffs and rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny the fact. after another moment, you catch his gaze and smile softly. lando blushes, lifting his hand to wave slightly.

"okay, let's dance! this is my favourite song," max suddenly exclaims, standing up with a slap to the tabletop. a few follow suit, and you turn to lily with raised brows.

"oh, no," she shakes her head with a giggle. "i need at least two more of these drinks before you get me up there."

"well, drink up. i'll save you a dance."

smiling sweetly, you slip off of the seat to give her attention back to oscar. lando stands at the same time, smiling playfully when he looks at you. a hand of his stretches out and you can't even fathom denying it, slipping palm to palm and letting him drag you to the middle of the dance floor.

the song is drake or the weekend, something you don't really know, but the beat is so loud that you can feel it in the floor beneath you. falling into a rhythm, you giggle as lando begins moving with you. he sings along, but you don't recognise the lyrics, only the movement of his lips as his eyes shut. your chest thumps in time with the music, the heat of the people around you creeping onto your bare skin. the music mixes, changing into a melody you instantly know.

"i love this song!" you squeal, grasping lando's arms to shake them in excitement. he chuckles, watching on in admiration as you begin dancing again, reciting every single word to abba's lay all your love on me. your hands sneak down from his arms to his hands, forcing him to move along with you. he spins you around again and again just to watch your hair and dress float around you like magic, the lights of the club basking you in a heavenly hue.

somewhere in the midst of the second verse and chorus, lando feels his judgement cloud. he'd like to blame it on the beer, but he had only drank one, and he knew it was that usual intoxicating presence you carried around everywhere. your lips mould around each lyric, having listened to the song so many times (and your endless summer rewatches of mamma mia, as you once told him) that it was engraved on your memory. you looked perfect, the same as every day he snuck glances at you in the office or scrolled through your instagram late at night when he couldn't sleep for thinking about you.

you were it, for him. everything he loved and dreamed of, the only thing that had kept his feet on the ground this past season. and here you were, chest pressed to his thanks to the swarm of drunken guests, so close that he could smell your perfume and the shampoo from your hair. you had used a darker lipstick tonight, he noticed, unlike the usual clear balm you wore at work. it made you lips look even more soft than they normally do - he knew, because he spent a hefty chunk of his day staring at them.

abba fades out, along with the loud and out of tune singing filling the club, and all lando can think about is kissing you. it wouldn't be fair, for such pretty lips to go unkissed. and it wouldn't be fair on him, who has spent hours on end imagining how kissing you might feel, to let such an opportunity slip away from him.

so, he's tightening the hands that are already on your waist to pull you even closer, until there's not an inch of space left between you. his lips around rough, unmoving as they press against yours, eyes screwed shut and cursing the long seconds as he waits for your mouth to respond. eventually, he peeks through hesitant eyes to meet your surprise. your lips, colour smudged a little now from the contact, are parted and your eyes are wide. he can't discern what you're thinking, but he would bet it wasn't pure elation.

blame it on the beer, blame it on the beer, blame it on the beer.

his mouth opens just as all of his senses wire back in again, the end notes of the song just ringing out when he begins making his excuse. but your surprise and panic fills you so much that you can't breathe here, not with so many people around and lando's body heat still so close. stumbling, you push past him and everyone else that you meet to escape the busyness. the neon exit sign beckons you to the fire door, gasping when it opens and the fresh night air hits you.

thankfully, there isn't a soul to watch you and your flushed cheeks struggling for breath, and you wait until you hear the door shut behind you to fully relax again, frankly not caring if you lock yourself out. but the click of the lock doesn't come, only a familiar sound that crumbles you again.

"y/n—"

lando stands helpless in the doorway, eyes pleading for forgiveness when you turn to him. your head shakes, searching for something to say.

"i... you, what—” you struggle to grasp the right words, eyes squeezing shut. "i thought we were just friends?"

"we were! we are," lando corrects you quickly, striding towards you. "but that doesn't change the fact that i—"

"lan, please don't."

"— love you, y/n. i've been in love with you since your first day at work. how couldn't i be?"

his voice is smaller than you've ever heard it before, urging guilt into your throat until you have to swallow it back down. you make yourself look down at the ground, your heels and his sneakers facing each other, because you know you'll fall apart once you see those damned brown eyes.

"lando..." you murmur through a sigh.

"don't you feel it too?" he asks, desperately grabbing at your clammy hands. "us, me and you. it's right there."

you cave then, heart taking over from your mind, chin raised to look at him. lips turn into a frown, searching his lovelorn eyes for the moment he'll laugh and tell you its all a big joke. because he's lando, and you're just you.

"tell me that you don't, that there's nothing here," lando mumbles lower, gripping your fingers for dear life. "tell me this isn't real and i'll walk away. but — but i can't leave you if there's a chance."

your lips part with a breath, lips dry, and your sense screams at you to tell him no. that it'll never work, it's impossible. but something tugs in your chest and you realise something you had never wanted to admit to yourself: you loved lando norris.

"it'll be too complicated." you settle for excuses instead, chewing the inside of your cheek, wincing when you nick the flesh. "we have to work together, so if something happens then it'll mess everything up."

lando steadies your shaking head with his hands, one on each cheek, staring deep into your eyes. "what are you so scared of?"

you swallow, shoulders raising with each shallow breath. "i don't want to lose you. you're my best friend, the only person i can talk to. i don't want to mess that up."

your confession melts his heart, affection bringing his thumbs to graze across your cheeks. "i won't let that happen," lando promises, tongue sincere as can be.

you wait a moment, scouring his features before the trust solidifies. gently, tentatively, you search for the taste you barely got inside of the club, lips ghosting together. strawberry and beer mix on your tongues, hands wandering over body heat and mouths hungrily moving together like two teenagers in a back alley. only when breathless does lando fall from your lips, hands still steady on the round hips of your dress, keeping you close.

"i'll always be your best friend," he whispers like an oath, a boyish smile tugging at the corner of his swollen and lipstick-covered mouth. "but can we be best friends who do that, like, a lot?"

writer's note: wrote this in one sitting and may have gotten carried away but pls enjoy <3

[esotericbluntbaby]

your hamzah angst was sooo good 😭 i really love this specific concept of angst where one of them distances from the other 🥹🥹

maybe you could do a prompt where y/n is scared to date hamzah?? maybe even rejecting him at first or something omg...

or one where they get into an argument which makes one of them distance themselves from the other (i love this concept so much sorry LOL)

passionfruit

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: heartbroken by the reader rejecting his advances out of fear, hamzah finds someone else; yet, he doesn't realize he looks for you in her until it was almost too late.

mentions: roommate!hamzah, angst, feelings of abandonment, she/her pronouns, happy ending, sfw!

i was listening to passionfruit by drake while writing this lol i was trying to go for a trope where they're both yearning but there's a blockage in the way of them getting to each other. "leaving, you're just doing that to get even" really inspired me

--

"this is azra, my girlfriend," hamzah admitted as you gazed at the alluring girl he brought into the apartment.

in moments, you felt like the library of alexandria has fallen once again. all the enriching history and knowledge you once knew, in addition to him knowing as well, was burnt to a crisp like a match to dry grass. you wondered if things could've been different; if you had finally grown the courage in the garden of your soul to tell him how you truly felt. yet, it was too late to dwell.

you couldn't blame him for getting a girlfriend, especially one as pretty as she is. technically, he wasn't yours to begin with; he was merely your roommate living in the room parallel to you. however, for a while, it felt like he was. the chemistry between the two of you morphed into a familiar tension of pairs; grapes are connected by their stems in the way that leaves are connected by the branches, the same way that you two were connected by the many traits you had in common.

there was always exchanged glances. the contact between your eyes and his created a candle flame that the wrinkles and creases from his smile would fan. you two acknowledged it, leading to social settings being disrupted by being stuck in a cycle of addiction: an addiction to the understanding you two had for each other with merely a look. some call it the look of love, but you and hamzah never even had the chance to speak about it.

eventually, the shared eye contact turned into physical contact. whether it was interlocking your arms or hands or legs together while cuddling on the couch, or simply sitting on the floor to him and resting your head on his thigh as he played games with martin, days went by with a different method of touch brightening both of your days.

one time, specifically, you began to cry because of the stress that consumed any amount of happiness you were able to feel. assuming that hamzah would just hang out with you, possibly giving you a long and needed hug, you decided to go to his room. opening the door to you on the verge of breaking down in front of him, he not only gave you a hug, but also pecked your forehead and cheeks with kisses while whispering reassurance and affirmations into your ear. things were different from that day; you were no longer just friends.

however, with the difference in relationship, anyone would think that you two would simply talk about what you were. you guys have done practically everything together besides see each other naked or kissed on the lips; why wouldn't you begin to watch a relationship flourish when you know there was nothing that could go wrong? you knew he felt the same way that he did. why wouldn't you take the leap and see where it takes you?

you were a pussy. that's why.

so, you began to distance as if hamzah had the black plague and you were trying to live until you were old and wrinkly. he noticed the uncomfortable amounts of quietude in the apartment and how, suddenly, you began to go out more to parties and hangouts. hamzah knows you; you were never a partying type of girl. he knew there was something up from the sheer amount of you posting on your story about a venue or houseparty you were at, despite being one of the biggest homebodies he knew. did he mention it to you? no. in fact, he amplified the distance since he thought you simply didn't like him the way he liked you. he took your distance as rejection, similar to an empty score on a test or no reply after a job interview.

you distanced yourselves from each other, causing the home to become a house with two bodies far away from each other inside of it. yet, hamzah still decided to introduce you to azra since she would be around more often, causing the awkward situation in front of you to unfold.

"it's nice to meet you," you mentioned as you shook her hand, almost as if this was a business deal instead of an introduction.

she snarked, "yeah, totally. hamzah, you didn't tell me your roommate was a girl?"

hamzah stared at her, "i did. it was one of the first things i told you when i asked if you wanted to come over, actually."

"mmm, i don't remember," she turned to look at you, "will that be a problem?"

confused, you turned your gaze from hamzah to her, "i'm not following. what are you talking about?"

"you're his roommate. you're a girl. i'm his girlfriend. is that an issue?" she cocked her eyebrow.

"no, ma'am, it won't," you reprimanded and gave hamzah a stare of annoyance, "i'm gonna go out. i'll see you later."

--

azra made herself at home in the least plausible way possible. though hamzah worked hard to keep the kitchen clean each time he decided to cook a meal for the whole house, azra would make a meal for herself and leave the dirty and stained dishes inside of the sink. hamzah would clean the single bathroom sink, since you two shared and he would feel bad if he didn't since he shaves; azra would leave her makeup on the counters in addition to watermarks on the tiling. hamzah's cats loved most people and had no issue with them being around, yet, they would hiss and run away from azra as if she was the wicked witch. the balance of the household was completely diminished ever since she began to come over more often.

so, you decided that you were going to move out. there was no longer space for you in this house anymore; not with her being hamzah's girlfriend.

knocking on hamzah's door, you prayed that his girlfriend wouldn't be in his room. there were too many times where she had accused you of attempting to take him. hamzah would defend you, which you were insanely grateful for since she was driving you up and down the walls, leaving her accusing him of wanting you, as well. the door swung open, revealing hamzah in a gray hoodie and black, nike sweatpants. his hair was held in a beanie with loose curls exiting out of the back of his head. it was always one of your favorite looks of him. he knew that.

"hey, can i come in?"

--

the clock read 12:03 am. you two sat on his bed after a brief catching up. in those mere moments, you felt like things were normal again. there was no arguing and no awkward distance from each other. in fact, even the silence of the room was comfortable. yet, you knew it couldn't go on for too long.

"so, why'd you decide to come in here?" he asked, genuinely curious.

you cleared your throat, "i just wanted to talk to you about something kinda serious."

"i'm all ears. talk to me. what's up?"

"hamzah, i think it's time for me to move out."

his eyes widened in surprise mixed with a glint of worry, "what?"

"i dunno. i just think that, maybe, you've kinda outgrown me in a way?"

"what are you talking about?"

you hesitated, silence filling the space between you.

"stop it," he softly demanded.

"stop what?"

"just say what you want to say. you're thinking about it too much. say it as it is."

you sighed, "if you're happy with azra, i think i should leave. sometimes, it hurts just to look at you guys. i know it's bad that i'm talking to you about this as you're literally with her, but i guess i haven't gotten over how close we used to be and how it could've turned into something. i think this is for the best. i'll figure out the paperwork tomorrow. i'm sorry, hamzah."

leaving his room in a rush, you began to tear up as you entered your room, went underneath your fuzzy covers, and attempted to sleep.

--

the next day flew by; you went to the front office to collect the paperwork for the resignation of your lease. attempting to fill it out was rough, since strands of doubt kept on pulling you back from fully signing each signature and information on the paper. at around 8:00 at night, you heard a knock on your door as you began to fill out the last form of resignation. your hand twisted the doorknob, slowly revealing hamzah at the opposite end; he looked like he hadn't slept in a day, as dark circled caressed the bottoms of his eyes.

"hi, um, can i come in?"

you stared at the floor, "yeah, sure."

he sat down on your bed, your mattress making a squeaking noise at the weight of his body being fully transferred onto it. you sat onto the chair of your desk, parallel to him on the bed, and swiveled it around so you would be able to see him.

you questioned out of worry, "are you okay? did you sleep at all last nigh-"

"stay."

"what?"

"stay, please. don't move out, don't go."

you sighed, "hamzah, i'm filling out the papers right now. i'm not needed here anymore."

"but you are needed here! i need you here."

"you have a girlfriend, you have to need her inst-"

"i broke up with her."

uncertainty of the conversation began to make your brain go blank, "what?"

"you can call me a fucked up person. you can call me anything, actually, but you can't say that i don't need you here. i never looked at her the way that i look at you. i think this whole time i've just been looking for everything that you are whenever i looked into her eyes. you can call me fucked up, but i just can't help it. she isn't you. it's like somehow you've tied a rope to me and i can't seem to get out of it, but i also don't want to get out of it? i realized that last night when you told me you wanted to move out."

"hamz-"

"i didn't sleep at all because i was scared."

"why?"

"i didn't want to look to the room in front of mine and have it be empty when it could've been turned into an office or something."

you furrowed your eyebrows, "hamzah, it could still be turned into an office or something. in fact, me moving out would give you more room to-"

he placed his hands on your shoulders, "that's not the point. the point is that i'd want to turn it into an office when you move into my room. the only reason i'd ever want that room to be empty is if it was because you decided that you wanted to share space with me and sleep with me in mine."

"what are you saying?"

his hand made its way to your cheek, "you said that you couldn't get over how we could've been something. we can be something. just stay.

his eyes glistened with hope and nervousness intertwined and holding hands in his irises. hesitance filled the air in between the two; the combination of the intense eye contact, as well as the physical touch of his hand cupping your cheek as if it belonged there, created a sense of uncertainty. you both were uncertain where you would end up, how you would end up, what this interaction would lead to. it was only when hamzah's lips softly landed on yours that you realized that, suddenly, everything fell into place. it was short, sweet, and supple, only lasting about a mere 2 seconds; yet, pulling away was similar to pulling two magnets apart without a handle to hold. the feeling of his lips on yours lingered even after you pulled away.

"y'know, you're a horrible person for trying to find me in another woman," you told him softly.

"call me a horrible person all you want. i'm sorry, baby," he kissed you again, "forgive me?"

"hmm.. i don't know if i can. actually, if you do me this favor, i will.

"a favor as in?"

you handed him the documents you signed, "either burn it or shred it. i don't care."

--

author's note

i have no clue if im into how this turned out, but surprise lol two in one day!

[supernotnatural2005]

'Giddy up Cowboy' (Drabble)

Paring: Dean x Reader

Summary: The power of impression leads to wondrous things.

Word Count: 822

Prompt: ‘Character B tries to impress Character A’

Warnings: Dean riding a mechanical bull 🥵🥵

AN: This is another square completed for my @jacklesversebingo 24 card. It's a short one I know but, I think it fit perfectly for this prompt 😄

Read the follow up here

Main Masterlist

Bingo Masterlist

“Don’t you just love a man who knows how to ride one of those things?" You sigh dreamily, watching man after rugged-looking man try their damnedest at riding the mechanical bull.

There was just something so downright sexy about watching a guy flex his thighs and roll his hips in time with the sway of the machine. If you didn’t know any better, it seems as though you may have discovered a new turn-on for yourself.

“Um, not really Y/N.” Sam chuckles before taking a drink from his beer. You smack his arm in jest because he knew you were being rhetorical. You cease, however, when your attention is soon re-captured by another man stepping up for his turn. 

Meanwhile Dean frowns at you, his eyes glancing between you and the men making complete fools of themselves, in his opinion. Not one of them had been able to stay on for a full minute. There was nothing impressive about that, so he couldn’t see as to why you thought so. 

‘Because you just hate the fact she’s gawking at other men.’ Came the niggling voice in the back of his mind. A voice that hadn’t shut up about you for months now. 

Again, the new guy was flung from the machine, this time before even 30 seconds were up, and Dean scoffs. Apparently it was loud enough for your attention to turn to him. 

“What? You think you can do any better, Winchester?” You tease, and he rolls his eyes. 

“I think even Sammy here could do better than these goons.” Dean sasses back, and Sam frowns, knowing that wasn’t meant to be a compliment. You squint your eyes at Dean, too suspiciously for his liking, and he distracts himself with a pull from his beer. 

“Then why don’t you hop on? Show these goons—"you imitate his deep voice, "what you’ve got?” You challenge him playfully, almost like you didn’t believe he would. 

Fine, he thinks stubbornly. Maybe this time you’ll actually notice me; comes that voice again. 

You had been a casual hunting partner with the boys for a few months now; your knowledge, skill, and witty humour brought a fresh new light into their lives, and they both enjoyed having you around. Dean maybe more so, for other reasons. 

Finishing the rest of his beer in one big gulp, he stands from the table with a cocky smirk. “I’ll show you how a real man does it, sweetheart.” Sam cringes at his brothers statement, and Dean has to admit it was a cheap line, but it got that smile out of you. The one that made your eyes shine.

As Dean pays the operator, he looks over at you one last time and sends you a wink before he steps up onto the mat and effortlessly mounts the bull. He blows out a breath, suddenly nervous. He couldn’t make a fool out of himself now, not with the mouth he’d given you. 

Dean gives the guy a thumbs up once he’s situated, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. His only thought; she’s watching, like a mantra in his mind. He hears the whirring of the machine spark to life, and no sooner as it did, does the bull begin to rock. 

At first, it’s a gentle forward and backward motion until it begins to spin. Dean clenches his knees tighter and rolls his hips, matching the same motion as the bull. He holds his left arm out for balance as the bull begins whipping around at a much faster pace. He grips on for dear life, the cheer from the crowd gathered drowning into nothingness as he puts all his concentration into staying on. 

It feels like a lifetime before he finally hears the operator announce he’d broken the 90 seconds before the bull gradually begins to wind down to a stop. An eruption of cheers, mostly from the women in the crowd, surrounds him as he hops down. Even some of the guys who’d failed shake his hand impressed as he steps off the mat. He nods politely as he pushes his way through, ignoring the women trying to get his attention—his eyes only searching for you. 

You’re standing at the back of the crowd, having moved to get a better view, your smile dazzling and eyes alight with wonder. 

“So. Was I better?” Dean asks, a little breathless from his effort but also incredibly curious. You take a step closer to him, your lips pulling up into a smirk as you come toe to toe. His breath hitches as you place a hand on his chest, and he’s certain you can feel what the simple action does to his heart. 

“You did great! But I think I can ride him better.” Your eyes glisten with mischief as you lean up on your toes to whisper in his ear. 

“And I’m not talking about the bull.” 

Read part 2 here.

AN: Again, I know it was a short one but I have much more planned for the rest of my squares, maybe a series in the works 👀 As always I really appreciate any feedback! Let me know what you though 💕

[kikitakite]

I saw your callout in the Gale tag for that one user (no comment on them, tho ty for the callout bc i'd seen them in the notes of my fics) and was curious if you could elaborate on some of the Mystra incidents you described towards the end of the post? I'm new to the lore of the setting and find it hard to research (which makes sense given its importance to dnd), so I've heard a lot of conflicting things about Mystra's portrayal in the wider series. No pressure, obviously!

No problem! And yea, I've seen her arguing in the posts of a few people I follow or just Gale-related posts I find interesting. Usually I don't get involved in stuff like this, but I noticed a constant pattern and then all the homophobic shit so I went off a little.

Unfortunately it's hard to find exact examples of the Mystra lore because certain modules aren't very popular or even free to access, but if you're interested the best way to learn about her is by reading the Elminster novels. There's twelve total, dating all the way back to 1994, and they detail Elminster's adventures. I'll be honest though, some of them are a hard read and written through the lens of a man who's admitted very creative, but also has a lot of problematic ideas.

In the first book Elminster is a child. His entire town gets wiped out by mages, thereby making him hostile toward magic. He sneaks into Mystra's temple to deface her statue one night, but she appears before him and basically gaslights him into learning magic and becoming her rare Chosen. He becomes a wizard and cleric basically overnight, until eventually he multiclasses into pretty much every class type in DnD. As you can imagine a lot of players aren't too fond of Elminster, as he's a well known self-insert of the author and pretty annoying to run into during campaigns. None of my dungeon masters like him anyway.

He also becomes one of Mystra's most loyal followers, but she fucks with him over and over, turning him into a woman to teach him a lesson and SLEEPING with him in that form, berating him when he struggles with the torture he endures when he gets stuck in the hells, making him reproduce without his knowledge and getting jealous when he gives his partners more attention. Because she's a very jealous goddess, which I think the game vaguely touches on but not really.

I wish I had the time to flip through all the novels and give exact citations but the best I can do is suggest them, because they're so eye opening. She's considered a neutral good goddess, but neutral gods often do terrible things for the sake of their domain. I think it needs to be noted that Mystra, as with all gods in the pantheon, only cares about her portfolio. She isn't wrong for that, but it doesn't mean she's blameless when she messes with people's lives. She's done a lot of good but she's also made horrible decisions, especially where her followers are concerned.

For example, Elminster having children he doesn't know about. He has a daughter named Narnra. Her conception was... pretty fucked up. Basically a song dragon named Ammaratha Cyndusk was an occasional lover of Elminster's (he has a lot of those because of course he does) and she wanted to bear his child, but since he's a Chosen of Mystra he can control his fertility. Magic birth control, basically. He didn't want a kid so Ammaratha went behind his back to learn a counterspell that would make him fertile during sex. The man she asked refused to teach her because...duh that's messed up, but then Mystra intervened and told him to teach her the spell because she wanted Elminster's "seed to spread". Ammaratha never told him and neither did Mystra. No matter what the reasons, that was NOT consensual on Elminster's part, and it happened two more times, resulting in two more daughters with different women. If I remember correctly Elminster did eventually find out waaaaay later when they were all adults, but it never amounted to anything.

The sisters I was taking about are the Seven Sisters, Mystra's "daughters". And I put "daughters" in quotations because Mystra possessed the body of a woman named Elué and impregnated her without her consent. She slept with the woman's husband (again, while possessing her body) and made them sire seven children. This of course lead to Elué's death because the constant flow of magic in her body was too much for her to handle. Her grieving husband broke after she died and eventually left, abandoning his daughters and earning Mystra's scorn...as if he was in the wrong. The sisters were then orphaned and raised by foster families.

That said, most of the awful things anyone can say about Mystra were the doings of her previous incarnations so ultimately it doesn't apply to the Mystra of BG3. In fact, this third Mystra is supposed to be a new and improved goddess who's nicer to her followers. So her portrayal in BG3 annoyed a lot of DnD fans. I should also point out that Mystra has two types of fans: ones who will defend everything she does, even when it's fucked up beyond all comprehension, and the ones who will tell you she's a true neutral goddess capable of good and bad. I'm the latter. There are plenty examples of Mystra sticking her neck out for innocents, but there's also examples of her doing the most horrendous shit imaginable.

A lot of veteran players, at least the ones I know, are upset with the portrayal of Mystra in BG3 because her plan to end the Absolute is, quite frankly, stupid. Your party is the best chance anyone has of ending the threat, but she asks Gale to nuke himself and possibly tens of thousands, which makes no sense because she could've just sent her mages/clerics to deal with the problem. And there was no guarantee the bomb would've worked anyway. She put all the responsibility on one man and it DEFINITELY comes off as vindictive. That isn't out if character for her but she's not SUPPOSED to be that bad anymore. For a lot of DnD players it felt like she was reverting back to her old habits.

I think there's also a part in the game where you can directly ask Gale why she doesn't just blip the Absolute out of existence and he says something like, "She could but Ao won't allow it." That was also really strange for a lot of veteran players to hear because Gale drops Ao's name like it's nothing. Most people (especially if they're new to the franchise) wouldn't know this but most people in Faerûn don't know who Ao is! Because he wiped people's memories of his existence! I suppose it does make sense for Gale to know that name, since Mystra probably explained the pantheon to him, but it's VERY unlikely tav would know it. So during that conversation all I could picture was tav tilting their head like, "Huh? Who? Whaaa?"

And on top of that......Ao absolutely WOULD allow it because the Absolute effects the Weave and every other god! It had the potential to ruin the balance of the universe, which makes Ao a very angry boy. Balance is one of the ONLY things he cares about. The Dead Three were stealing souls and worshippers, which gods needs to survive, and dying gods disrupts the balance. It's a whole circle of chaos. So the only conclusion left for me to extrapolate is this: Mystra just really, really wanted Gale to kill himself to prove his devotion to her. Which...isn't great. Bad look for her.

It's kind of like how Raphael thinks the Crown of Karsus is going to help him end the Blood War and take over the hells. DnD players laughed during his epilogue because...no it won't lol. He doesn't stand a chance even with the crown. He's arrogant and he's gonna get slapped by his daddy and all the other archdevils, the same way Gale gets slapped by Mystra if he ascends. Even the Absolute ending of the game wouldn't last long because the gods would go to war with the Dead Three, wipe them out and rebuild Faerûn, which has happened many times in past DnD campaigns. Mystra alone has torn worlds apart and glued them back together. The main crisis of BG3 is saving the world you live in or everybody dies. For the gods it's just a Tuesday. I mean look at how Withers owns the Dead Three with a wave of his hand at the end of the game. Mystra COULD'VE killed the Absolute, just as she could've removed the orb from Gale's chest the moment it happened. She just didn't WANT to. She wanted him to die. She wanted him to chastise himself. She wanted him to suffer and come crawling back to her as an obedient follower. She wanted him to learn a harsh and honestly unfair lesson, which is a terrible throwback to her previous incarnations.

[nixie-writes]

Being Adam's Daughter (both in life and in heaven)

I've run out of ideas someone please send something to my inbox + I need to keep this blog at least semi active somehow. I spent too long researching to write this please clap

-you were the only daughter to Adam and Eve. You were born into sin via Eve. You spent your entire childhood wishing you could visit the garden of Eden and see what was so bad about it that your mother had to eat the fruit of knowledge after God specifically told her not to.

-you were also very suspicious of your brother, Cain. Though you didn't know it, he showed wrath, envy and gluttony towards your brother, Abel. You, being born a woman, were raised to never question a man, especially not one older than you, so you never got in between their fights.

-then the day came that Cain killed Abel, the brother you were closer to. You witnessed the murder but your parents did not; you did as you were raised to do and didn't speak a word of what you saw. Cain threatened your life if you told them he had killed Abel, so you kept your mouth shut.

-as you lived your life you grew closer to God, closer even than Adam. You spent your days worshiping him, thanking him for every meal you ate, preaching to your parents about how good he was. Adam would always respond with something along the lines of, "hell yeah he's good, he made me!" and Eve would just smile.

-it was late one night when you saw your mother fall victim to the worst sin of all-debauchery with Lucifer himself. You caught her and Lucifer together, doing things you could never describe as the sweet little girl you were. You didn't understand the severity of it at the time but you ran back home and told your father that his wife and your mother was, in your words, "making friends" with the fallen angel who stole Adam's first wife, though you'd yet to have been told the story about Lilith yet.

-Adam stormed out and took you with him, you pointing him in the direction of Lucifer and Eve. He told you to wait behind a bush and he confronted Eve for sleeping with Lucifer. She wouldn't admit how many times she had done so. You were innocent and didn't understand the concept of "sleeping together", you were unsure why your father was so mad. He told Eve she was no better than Lilith, who you'd never heard of before and you suddenly had a lot of questions. Adam bid Eve his final goodbye and told her that if she ever came to him again he would kill her. You were stunned to hear this but seeing how you were raised, you didn't question it. It terrified you however.

-following your father home you asked him who Lilith was. Adam briefly explained that Lilith was his first wife, who refused to submit to him, and she fell in love with Lucifer and resided in Hell. In a rare moment of kindness he knelt to your level and placed his hands on your shoulders. "[Y/N], you're my only daughter and the only woman left in my life. Promise me, you'll never fall into the follies of sin," he spoke in a wavering voice. You understood how serious this was and nodded your head in agreement. He took you back to his hut, his hand in yours.

-you spent the remainder of Adam's life comforting him over the loss of Abel and Eve. You told him about how you saw Cain kill Abel and Adam sentenced Cain to live alone somewhere else, leaving only you and him. Throughout Adam's life on earth he always told you how much he loved you and how he expected to see you in Heaven when your time came.

-as time went by you never had any children, leaving that to other women God created. After learning the harsh reality of what your mother did you never wanted to risk falling in love with the wrong person, so you kept to yourself and became a traveling healer, helping those who were sick and hurt through God's will. You did this until you were around your middle ages, and God called you to Heaven. It was time for you to be with Adam.

-you were met by Sera, the high Seraphim. She told you your time had come, and you had been good enough to come to Heaven. You had done what your mother and brother failed to do, you lived a good and justified life and worked in God's mysterious ways. She brought your soul to Heaven.

-once you arrived in Heaven you saw how much of a dick Adam had become. He was proud, he was gluttonous and he was a jerk. He was always flaunting to the women in Heaven about how he was the first human soul to arrive there, likely to get them in bed with him. You were disgusted by it.

-when Sera brought Adam to the side and introduced you, his daughter, to him he was so stoked. "[Y/N]! You made it at last! That's daddy's little girl!" He rubbed your hair with his first and hugged you. He encouraged you to tell him what earned you a place in Heaven and you were proud to tell him of your years as a traveling healer and of how close you became to God. He was smiling the entire time.

-fast forward a little while, and the ranks of Hell were growing. Adam kept the extermination a secret from you, knowing it would break your sensitive heart to hear that countless souls who could have very well been your mother or brother, were being killed. His little secret was that he killed them both in the first extermination.

-as time went by you remained oblivious to the extermination, Adam never wanting you to know. But that fateful day came, when Adam told you he had to "take care of business", and promised you he'd be back later. He left with Lute, who you considered your true mother, and that was the last time you saw him.

-when Lute arrived back in heaven you rushed to her with glee in your eyes, asking where your father was. You were so excited to know what his business had been and if he'd carried out God's will. Your smile faltered when you noticed Lute clutching Adam's halo in her hand, her other arm missing entirely. Whatever had happened, had been serious. You begged her to let you heal her the best you could but she refused.

-with shame in her eyes she told you Adam died fighting and the last word he spoke was your name. She told you in detail about how she saw the light die in his eyes, his smile slowly falling as he bled out. She admitted to you about the yearly extermination and how he had made the decision to go back twice as fast to stop the hotel, which you had only heard whispers of.

-before Lute left to confront Lilith, she hugged you with her remaining arm and promised to take care of you the way Adam would have wanted her to, and that even though she could never replace him, she would do everything in her power to make you feel loved, wanted and accepted no matter what. She finished by telling you she had an errand to run, but when she was back she would give you Adam's halo to remember him by.

-you were in tears, clutching her remaining arm by the time she had finished speaking. All you could do is nod your head, too choked on tears to give a real response. You couldn't believe your father was dead and gone for good. Sniffling, all you could say at the end was, "thank you mom". Lute kissed your forehead and promised she would be back very shortly to give you his halo.

[stupidphototricks]

Have some Granny Weatherwax wit and wisdom and Bad Ass-ery. It's amazing how fully-formed her character was right from (practically) the very beginning of Discworld, in Equal Rites.

"If you can't learn to ride an elephant, you can at least learn to ride a horse." "What's an elephant?" "A kind of badger," said Granny. She hadn't maintained forest-credibility for forty years by ever admitting ignorance. -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

"That's one form of magic, of course." "What, just knowing things?" "Knowing things that other people don't know," said Granny. -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

"You're a bit young for this," she said, "but as you grow older you'll find most people don't set foot outside their own heads much. You too," she added gnomically. -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

"That's the biggest part of doct'rin, really. Most people'll get over most things if they put their minds to it, you just have to give them an interest." -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

She had got "diuerse" out of the Almanack, which she read every night. It was always predicting "diuerse plagues" and "diuerse ill-fortune." Granny wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but it was a damn good word all the same. -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

But Granny had spent a lifetime bending recalcitrant creatures to her bidding and, while Esk was a surprisingly strong opponent, it was obvious that she would give in before the end of the paragraph. -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

Granny, meanwhile, was two streets away. She was also, by the standards of normal people, lost. She would not see it like that. She knew where she was, it was just that everywhere else didn't. -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

"Yes," lied Granny, whose grasp of geography was slightly worse than her knowledge of subatomic physics. -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

"No, I could tell he was telling the truth. You know, Granny, you can tell how--" "Foolish child. All you could tell was that he thought he was telling the truth. The world isn't always as people see it." -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

"Um, women aren't allowed in," said Esk. Granny stopped in the doorway. Her shoulders rose. She turned around very slowly. "What did you say?" she said. "Did these old ears deceive me, and don't say they did because they didn't." "Sorry," said Esk. "Force of habit." "I can see you've been getting ideas below your station," said Granny coldly. -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

Granny smiled grimly. It was the sort of smile that wolves ran away from. -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

"Anyway, you walk wrong for rain." "I beg your pardon?" "You go all hunched up, you fight it, that's not the way. You should--well, move between the drops." And, indeed, Granny seemed to be merely damp. -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

Granny adjusted her hat and straighted up purposefully. "Right," she said. Cutangle swayed. The tone of voice cut through him like a diamond saw. He could dimly remember being scolded by his mother when he was small; well, this was that voice, only refined and concentrated and edged with little bits of carborundum, a tone of command that would have a corpse standing to attention and could probably have marched it halfway across its cemetery before it remembered it was dead. -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

"Yes, but is it safe?" Granny gave him a withering look. "Do you mean in the absolute sense?" she asked. "Or, say, compared with staying behind on a melting ice floe?" -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

"Right," she said, in a tone of voice that suggested the whole universe had just better watch out. -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

"I know. The building told me." "Yes, I was meaning to ask about that," said Cutangle, "because you see it's never said anything to me and I've lived here for years." "Have you ever listened to it?" "Not exactly listened, no," Cutangle conceded. "Not as such." -- Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

[darth-jess]

Anidala rant

Alright I really don't understand people saying that Anakin didn't actually love Padmé, he was just obsessive and then used her as an excuse to get more power.

First off, love in general is just a tad bit obsessive okay? I'm a bit obsessed with my husband, I love him, he's amazing. You have to be a little obsessive to have the courage to bear your heart and soul to someone who you are absolutely NOT supposed to be with. Also, can we talk about the fact that after Padmé "rejected" him he totally backed down? I mean he still loved her, but he wasn't going to push it anymore until she admitted that she loved him too.

Also…ANAKIN LITERALLY SACRIFICES HIS SOUL because he can't bear the thought of living without her. If it isn't clear enough in the movies (it is crystal clear) then the Revenge of the Sith novelization makes it even more so. He is genuinely horrified when he discovers that his friend, the Chancellor has been a Sith Lord this whole time, and multiple times he wishes Obi-wan was there with him because Anakin is so confused and has no idea what to do. And the ONLY reason he goes back to "save" Palpatine is because he can't let Palpatine die without learning how to save Padmé.

EVEN WHEN MACE IS FIGHTING PALPATINE Anakin wants Palpatine to BE ARRESTED. The only time Anakin moves against Mace Windu is when Mace is about to kill Palpatine, who has convinced Anakin that he is the only one who has the knowledge to save Padmé.

His turning to the Dark Side has nothing to do with power, and solely to do with wanting to save his wife from certain death. Dude was literally about to leave the Jedi Order, and he honestly didn't care anymore about being granted the rank of Master. The only reason he NEEDED the rank so badly is because he wanted to look up stuff in the Jedi archives ways he could possibly save Padmé, but only Jedi Masters were able to access some of these files. Add in the fact that his nightmares had made it impossible for him to sleep for literal days (weeks?) before the battle in the Chancellor's office.

Even when he's choking her on Mustafar, it's not because he never loved her, it's because he is in so much pain. All he sees is that the woman he loves most in the world, the woman he has sacrificed everything for and destroyed his soul for, WANTS HIM DEAD. Which of course isn't true, but why else would she have brought Obi-wan with her? He chokes her because every one of her words is a dagger, he feels betrayed and he can't listen to it anymore or he'll shatter. –This is not an excuse for any kind of abuse, but you have to understand the emotional turmoil he is going through. This is also not an argument that what he did was RIGHT in any way after turning to the Dark Side, but you do have to see how his actions (to him, at least) make perfect sense and that NONE of his actions hint at the fact that he either didn't love her or stopped loving her. He loved her even as Vader, he loved her forever.

Anyway, sorry, I've been reading the ROTS novelization and I'm almost done with it and I'm sad and emotional.

[beritybaker]

a little bit of florist!Eddie for valentines day ❤️

(this started as a silly headcanon when I drove past a flower shop today and, well...I guess have a microfic lol)

Some lunatic comes barging into Eddie's shop, frantically demanding a bouquet of pink and yellow roses, and Eddie can't help laughing right in his face. "We don't have any."

The stranger frowns. Eddie hates to admit how adorable his obvious confusion is. "What do you mean? This is a flower shop."

"Dude...it's Valentines Day."

"Shit." The stranger rakes a hand through his hair. "Shit."

Eddie blinks, now confused himself. He thought this guy was just the first of a hundred incompetent men he'll deal with today, relishing in telling them they should've ordered their partners' flowers at least a week ago. But instead of frustrated or angry, he looks downright terrified. On top of that, he'd walked in with apparently no knowledge that it was the fourteenth of February.

"Do you know where I might be able to find some?" the guy asks.

"Uh, no. There's probably not a rose or carnation in town that isn't spoken for." The terror in his eyes deepens, so much so that Eddie feels the need to comfort him. "But I'm sure she'll understand."

"No...I'm never gonna live it down this time. I can't believe I fucked up like this on Valentines Day..."

"What the hell did you even do, man?"

He bites his lip. "I, uh...I may have walked in on her with her hand down some girl's pants."

Startled, and more than a little outraged on this perfect stranger's behalf, Eddie demands, "Why are you getting her flowers, then?"

"As an apology. It's the third time it's happened this year."

"What?"

"It's not like she doesn't give the signal, but I keep missing it." He frowns. "Maybe we should come up with a better one."

Eddie shakes his head, finally starting to understand that they're on two completely different pages. "Wait. Okay. Who the actual fuck are you talking about?"

The stranger's brow furrows. "My roommate. Who did you...? Oh." He pauses. "Oh. You thought I was - no! She's a lesbian."

Eddie spends the rest of the afternoon helping his brand new, very attractive, very single friend Steve call around to other flower shops and wholesalers to find his apology arrangement.

[sscieloz]

A million miles away

Minatozaki Sana x member!reader

Synopsis: you’re fine. The group is shooting for their latest comeback, and you’re doing great in putting up a strong front. Until you’re not.

Warnings: hurt/comfort. mentions of blood, anxiety attack, self-harm

Word count: 1.7k

Notes: -

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5 | Pt.6 | Pt.7

—

You were positively sure you were going to throw up anytime soon.

Your unnies had been kind enough to let you be the first one to get your makeup done for their photoshoot. Even though the feeling of the brushes against your skin seemed too overbearing at times, you made sure to remain still and did an excellent job of allowing the makeup artists to fuss over your skin until they thought you were pretty enough. Even now, you resisted the urge to clear out of all the layers that covered your endless imperfections.

It had taken forever to hide the dark circles under your eyes, your hollow cheeks, your dullness, colorless, and dehydrated skin, but magic had been made. At the current moment, you’ve been fussed until you looked exactly like the doll you were before your rotten soul went on display.

Nothing but delicate and pristine, with perfect posture and unfocused eyes that stared through the blank wall.

Stunning.

“You look so beautiful, baby.” Momo’s voice snapped you out of your trance, like a beacon during a heavy storm. The Japanese woman ran her fingers through your long, thin hair, smiling like they lived a simple life. “I’m so glad you’re here with us. You’re doing amazing.”

That was Momo: a light, funny, and bubbly spirit. Somehow, one look from her had always been enough for you to calm down. As the maknae, you’ve always been so glad for that.

“All I did so far was get my makeup done.” You teased, with closed eyes as you leaned onto Momo’s touch. As a response, Momo’s hands went to you waist, urging you to her lap while she made sure to turn the stylist’s life much more difficult by kissing the top of your head with reverence.

The older members were always so gentle… almost like the you were going to break if they such as spoke harshly. Which was partially true, as much as you hated to admit it.

You were weak. Weak of body, of mind, of soul.

A burden. Talentless who—

“And you’ve done it beautifully.” Momo's answer came in a heartbeat, praising you like it was her second nature. “We’re very proud. All of us.”

Jeongyeon chimed in before you could argue against it, nodding with fervor. “It wouldn’t be the same if we weren’t doing this all together. You’re our missing piece, Y/n. Twice is made of ten people, and we love you so much.”

Being showered with compliments by your bandmates wasn’t, by any means, something new. Yet, you found yourself blushing like the first time you had ever heard such words come out of their mouth. Their reassurance warmed up your chest and healed you in ways you didn’t even think were possible. The oldest members’ reassurance offered small, warm fragments of calmness in an ocean of heavy thoughts.

I am loved. I am needed. I am enough.

Now, you just needed to believe that.

Suddenly shy, you gave Momo a playful hit. “Stop praising me so much, unnies.” You turned your head, refusing to face them. “Don't you have anything else to do? Stop hovering around…”

Unfortunately, the two women piled up in your makeup booth thought you were the most adorable being in the world. Upon your comment, they started tugging your cheeks and making cute faces, muttering how adorable you were just by existing, leaving you both bothered and flustered.

Growing up as a trainee, vocal coaches, and dance instructors have always recognized your talent. Their discourse included how talented you were and how, due to that, you shouldn’t be praised in any circumstances. They’d go on about how receiving compliments would leave you too sweet-toothed, too rotten. The knowledge and awareness of yourself as the most skilled trainee would have you grow into a careless, sloppy artist, in their minds.

Reckless even. They’d always repeated that same phrase, during evaluations and conversations; it was a mindset you only know judged rather cruel to impose on a child.

Although for now, you just wished your bandmates would stop making a big deal out of literally every small action of yours. It was tiring and made you feel a bit ashamed— completely useless, and their lousiness reminded you that.

In the end, you weren’t even capable of doing small chores everyone performed so effortlessly.

“Fine.” Nayeon joined in the conversation, giving you a bear hug before going to her assigned spot, while the staff prepared her brushes and palettes. “But only because you asked so sweetly, Y/nnie.”

Her tone, drenched with irony, was nothing new to you, who can’t help but smile. It was easy to forget about yourself amidst your bandmates. There were simply so many personalities, so many unique, loving people talking at once and creating a comfortable kind of chaotic ambient you couldn’t help but smile and joke around them, too.

You played with Boo, talked to Jihyo about the leader’s vacation plans, and had a good time while the others prepared for their solo shots for their comeback EP before everyone was ready for the group ones.

For a while, you forgot about your issues, with the foolish mistake of thinking you were fine. That everything was fine, without any troubles. That you weren’t at all troubled. The issue.

You were merely a shattered cup of glass, hanging on the edge of a sharp table. So eager to break and crash into a million pieces. Which you would, with such thing as the wind.

It happened in an instant, then.

In a second, you were surrounded by love, laughing with your girls, and then you blinked. The world turned grey and there was this pain pressing over on your chest— an unbearable feeling that pulsated against your sternum to your throat and blocked your airways until you were nearly not breathing. It was all just too much.

This wasn’t an unknown feeling. You were well familiar with this emotional pain that; one so strong it evolved into something physical and real, so very real.

You gulped, urging the bile to make its way back to your stomach as you got up and murmured something about a full bladder. Despite your vision going black, with small white dots dancing around your eyes, you managed not to stumble your way to the bathroom. Once the door was properly locked, you gripped both ends of the sink until your fingernails burned, and only then, your allowed yourself to get lost inside your troubled mind.

Surely there was nothing they could do to fix the mess out of your makeup now. Mascara traces rolled freely down your once cherubic cheeks as you bit your hand to keep the sobs from becoming too loud. Everything was just so wrong: from the clothes you wore to the muffled noise outside the bathroom.

Or perhaps you were the only one who was “all wrong”.

Your clothes clung suffocatingly tight to your body, trapping yourself inside your bones in a way that had you tugging and pulling until your skin was red and marked, unsuccessfully trying to rip them off.

Too many things were happening at once, and you couldn’t breathe. There had to be a way out, you needed out. The world was moving too fast for you, who have always been so slow. Slower than everyone.

The rented studio's bathroom was massive. It had everything the idols could need: a big sink, an illuminated mirror, an elaborate vase, a bathtub, and most important, a pretty big shower. Without much thinking, you crawled inside, shutting the glass door and sinking on the cold, ceramic floor.

With a deep breath, you tried to apply the grounding techniques Jihyo taught you, days prior. All of which was useless against your restless, mess of a mind. Still, you insisted on mouthing the phrases with trembling lips, repeating like a mantra:

Five things I can s—see. One: t—the shower’s head. Two: the, uhm, the…

“Y/n? Are you alright in there?” A soft voice called for you, from the other side of the locked bathroom. Sana’s, naturally.

Sana has always been more attentive than the others, especially after your brief conversation on Jeongyeon’s charity gala. You knew Sana blamed herself for disregarding your emotions, at the time. Even after you reassured her it wasn’t that big of a deal, Sana still brought it up constantly. She won’t ever forget about it.

Therefore, she’ll never leave you alone either.

You wished for the strength to answer. To put up a strong front, and scream back asking for five more minutes or anything that made Sana back the fuck off. Instead, your tangled fingers rubbed against your scalp as you pulled, over and over, and harshly enough that your scalp was burning immediately after. although, at least you were feeling real pain. You’d take anything over that massive lump in your chest.

The stimulation worked, distracting you enough from yourself that you managed to block any sounds coming from outside. You decided, then, that you needed to hurt more to keep your emotional pain away.

Your freshly applied acrylics seemed fit for the job: You ran them repeatedly against your skin until the porcelain had turned into bright, vivid red. You did it on your arms, back, thighs, and everywhere your able to reach until the banging on the door was loud enough to grab your attention.

“Y/n?” Another voice pleaded, now. Hard, strong, and urgent, like a leader barging commands. “Y/n, open this door.” Despite the politeness in Jihyo’s voice, there was a certain edge to it. “Right now.

It didn’t take Jihyo a heartbeat to add, perhaps too keen on your body language without even being able to see how you shrinking under yourself. “You’re not in trouble, baby. We just want to see you. Would you open the door, please? Like a good girl.”

That had your immediate attention. You were good. Desperately wanted to be a good girl for your unnies.

Still trapped in a foggy haze, you crawled forward in the shower session until you were met with a closed glass door. Standing without thinking think much further, you closed your hands in a fist and hit them against the glass door, in hopes of solving your problem and opening it so you were able to open the main bathroom door and finally do as told to make your unnies happy. When your first try was unsuccessful, you did it again, and again you were frowning at the blood that erupts from your fist to your elbow.

The last thing you recalled was your own scream, as you succeeded in breaking the glass that reminded you so much of your broken soul.

[nofomogirl]

We need to talk about body snatching

I'm not a massive fan of the 1827 minisode - if you're curious why it bothers me, I've explained it in my post about two GO canons - but there's no denying it does an amazing job at exploring the complexity of morality and moral choices. It starts with a very black-and-white two-dimensional image and gradually adds shading and perspective, making it harder and harder to judge as we go along.

I think it's worth digging into (pun not intended but I'll take it).

Layer 1: body snatching bad

We learn someone did something

It's those first few seconds where we see a person robbing a grave, and since we know that robbing graves is a crime and generally not a good thing to do, we can quickly form a tentative conclusion that this is wrong.

Okay, in this exact instance, we immediately get enough context clues to see that this kind of judgment would be oversimplistic and superficial. Only Aziraphale, who for some reason acts as if it was his first day on Earth after a thorough memory wipe, is ready to condemn Elspeth based on just that.

Nevertheless, this is the first layer - the deed itself with no context.

Layer 2: body snatching acceptable

We learn about the person who did the thing

That's the whole journey with the first dug-up body where we get to know Elspeth and become privy to her circumstances - she's desperately poor, she has another person depending on her, she robs graves to survive. Aziraphale's suggestions that she might earn her living by selling books, weaving or farming just serve to prove how inaccessible more honest and dignified professions are to her. In turn, her comment about how she's not hurting anybody who isn't already dead hints that from the realistically available options, Elspeth could have chosen something much worse.

Technically this layer is a significant step up from layer 1 but it still isn't really challenging. Things are spelt out really loud for us, and most importantly everything we learn about Elspeth is just attenuating circumstances. To top it off both she and Wee Morag are immediately endearing. The takeaway is that sometimes things that in theory are bad can be excused which is important but the verdict still comes without any second thoughts.

Layer 3: body snatching complicated

We learn the larger context around the thing

This mostly happens when Aziraphale and Crowley discuss body snatching with Mr Dalrymple. We learn that the stolen corpses are used for a medical study that can advance human knowledge and make it possible to save living people and that surgeons have no legal means to obtain enough of them for their research - hence their need to buy them from body snatchers.

At first glance it's just more of what we got in layer 2 - more agruments in favour of body snatching that aren't all that nuanced and don't really give us any pause - just from a larger perspective, beyond Elspeth's individual experience. But if you glance more than once you'll notice this is when things stop being straightforward and easy to judge.

The moment we enter a proper grey area is when Aziraphale asks why Mr Dalrymple doesn't acquire the bodies himself. This is a very valid question - while we might easily agree that studying the human body to further medical knowledge is a good thing, and with just the slightest hesitation admit that it's acceptable to resort to using stolen bodies if that is the only way the research may continue, it's not as easy to excuse taking advantage of the poor and the desperate to do the actual stealing that we know is very dangerous.

The moment we know without a doubt we are in a proper grey area is when Mr Dalrymple laughs at Aziraphale's concern.

Objectively, the surgeon is right that it's more effective if he doesn't risk his own life in the graveyard and uses his time on actual research, teaching students and saving lives. But it's also clear he doesn't exactly see people like Elspeth as actual human beings and feels he has every right to use them. On the one hand, he is paying, on the other, he happily benefits from the cruel class system and is not even one bit remorseful about it. On the one hand, he takes risks too, on the other he has a chance of rewards Elspeth will not benefit from. It's not the poorest whose lives will get bettered by the progress of medicine, even though they're the ones who pay with their lives for that progress. And if Mr Dalrymple gets lucky and is knighted for his work (we know he wasn't in the end but it was a possibility), the poor still won't be pardoned for stealing for him. Nevertheless, he has no issue with that.

As I said, things get nuanced.

Layer 4: it's different when it's someone you know

The thing actually happens in your life

I think you'll all agree that the turning point of the minisode is when Elspeth decides to sell Wee Morag's still warm body. This is what finally leaves us speechless.

That's because up until now we've been approaching the issue intellectually. It's not that we didn't care about the characters, but we were allowed to keep a safe distance. The whole thing was like a problem to be solved - "Is body snatching right or wrong? Discuss in 500-1000 words" - and everything we've learned so far was data for this assignment. I believe that one of the reasons why this detachment came naturally was that there was a very thick line between people involved in body snatching and the bodies that were being snatched. The former were, well, people, obviously. The latter were inanimate objects.

It isn't until Wee Morag is to be sold that we are forced to see a person in a dead body. This is also when real emotions enter the equation.

This shift forces us to question our judgment for the first time. It was easy to justify Elspeth when she was selling a nameless corpse. But the fact that she decided to sell her closest companion - and most likely lover - shocks us. Something inside us strongly objects to how quickly she makes the decision.

And then there's the transaction, and it is also different when it's someone we know. The fact that we knew Wee Morag fully exposes Mr Dalrymple for the heartless jerk that he is. The way he treats Elspeth is the absolute worst and if you haven't realized he was a hypocrite earlier, you should be disillusioned by now.

But at least Elspeth is not a hypocrite, right? It may seem cold that she sold Wee Morag but it just proves she simply believed it's all right to sell a dead body, doesn't it?

Well, about that...

Layer 5: it's different when it's you

You are forced to face the thing happening to you

This layer is reached when Elspeth plans her suicide and asks Aziraphale and Crowley to bury her "somewhere where no ghouls will ever dig her back up again".

It turns out Elspeth McKinnon really was a filthy liar.

Not long ago she was insisting that body snatching doesn't hurt anyone who isn't already dead, and asking why she should let Wee Morag rot in the ground when she starves. But she wants to make sure it doesn't happen to her own body. The idea that someone might dig her up terrifies her and she calls people who do it ghouls. So why was digging up other people okay again? Why should she rot in the ground while other people suffer? There were other people living in the street where she and Wee Morag hid. Why not ask Aziraphale to give the money to them? Or just anybody in need? Why not ask to sell her body as well and use the earnings the same way?

Also, if you look at it from a certain perspective, Elspeth betrayed Wee Morag in the worst possible way. Wee Morag believed that if someone's body gets cut, that person's soul cannot enter Heaven. Yet Elspeth sold her to Mr Dalrymple, claiming that Wee Morag would have wanted her to have the means to survive. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps Wee Morag would have made that sacrifice. But then Elspeth decided to kill herself and use the money she got for Wee Morag's body for her own funeral.

But does it make Elspeth wicked? Certainly not. She's simply torn by grief. I seriously doubt she's been planning to commit suicide when she was taking Wee Morag to Mr Dalrymple. She might have genuinely tried to carry on but the reality of what happened caught up to her. Mr Dalrymple's cruel words certainly didn't help her cope with a personal tragedy. I even suspect one of the reasons she sold her friend was that she had no idea what else to do with a dead body.

Does this excuse her actions? Kind of, but not really.

Elspeth was a tragic character, not an innocent lamb with a heart of gold.

The point is - can any of us really judge her?

Which, coincidentally, is a question that the original Good Omens book toyed with quite a lot.

If you've reached this far, thank you for reading!

[glassica]

Outsiders

Notes: M!yan transmigrator x Gn!reader reincarnator, isekai, jealousy, mentions of violence

Continued from Second Male Lead, with a different yan.

"Looks like someone got rejected huh?", your best friend tucked head to the side, eyes full of mischief, didn't bother pretending to sympathize with your loss for a bit. This was why you dreaded seeing him so much. You knew well he would just make fun of your miserable love life.

"Shut up! He didn't. I just realize that I'm no match to the heroine!", you groaned, shooting an icy glare at your friend, "Honestly how am I supposed to compete with the universe's favorite?! I know she's the main character but still... isn't it too unfair for us extras?"

"Unfair only for you, I actually have a blast there. Crazy how relaxing life is when you not aiming too out of league.”

He laughed and teased you senselessly, but inside the man was breathing sighs of relief. You didn't want to know what would he do to the second male lead had you two become a couple. Nothing much, just some little stabs on the chest and limbs ripping apart maybe...

At first he was so scared seeing himself transported to this world. He knew about the isekai stuff, but applying those knowledge to reality was a different story. He had no clue about the worldbuilding nor the plot, thus struggled desperately to blended in high society. Besides, he couldn't tell anyone about him belonging to different world, he would be called crazy and outcasted from all circles.

So it was a miracle that he met you, another soul stuck in same situation. Because you had read the series and been living there since birth, you were able to provide him with necessary information about the novel. Through you, he learned about the Kingdom, the protagonists, the future events, etc. in addition to all the etiquette and secrets of nobility. At one point, you confessed to him about the second male lead, the love of your (now and previous) life.

Who you pined after was none of his business, yet the man found himself growing unbearably irritated the more he heard about that name. Your best friend always bore a bitter grin on his face whenever you gushed about your crush, sometimes he sneaked in snide remarks, suggesting the second lead was probably just a mediocre guy. “If he was really charming like you made him out to be,” your friend argued, “he should’ve been the hero instead of getting shoved outside midway to be honest.” You huffed, who he thought he is to downplay the man of your dream like that? And why did your friend like belittling your feelings so much?

No. He didn’t look down on you at all, he just hated the fact that you were paying attention anyone but not him. He couldn’t accept the sight of you longing for another man when he was right there. The one who was aware of your deepest secret, the one who witnessed all your goodness and uglies, the one who could share your struggles of adapting to new world. He knew you the best, obviously he was the right choice for you.

And perhaps the man should admit deep down, he was also terrified of the future without you. You had come and guided him through the puzzling maze of noble life, be there for him when he was on verge of giving up everything. He had been acquainted with your lovely presence, no way he would let anyone steal it away from him. Little dirt on hands wasn’t a bad price to pay if that means you would be chained forever to him.

You might be a worthless extra in their story, but always the main character in his story.