#I didn’t think I’d have to say this more than ONCE

[flwrstqr]

✶ : NONSENSE ❪ 日语 ❫ DOE-EYEING ENHYPEN 備考────𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇' 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇' 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾

⠀❛ 𝖠𝖫𝖳 ㅤ when you give them pretty doe eyes

𝖣𝓲𝖠𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖲 ⦂ enhypen x fem ! r 1OOOwc. ˊᯅˋ fluff head canon && skinship petnames kissing established relationship . . CLiCK

다니 : it took me a while to find a good layout TT but i finally did so guess who's happy now hehe

LEE HEESEUNG

"what?" heeseung drawls, lips curling as he leans in, gaze dropping to your mouth before flicking back up."why are you looking at me like that?" his voice dips, teasing, but there's something in the way he tilts his head, slow, lazy, like he already knows the answer. you don't say anything, just blink up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted, and he exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "you're so obvious," he murmurs, thumb grazing over your cheek, "you think i don't know what you're doing? giving me those doe eyes like you want something." he pauses, studying you, and then he smirks. "if you want a kiss, just say it, baby. you know i’d give you anything."

PARK JAY

"you’re not slick, you know that?" jay chuckles, the corner of his lips quirking up as he watches you from across the store, arms crossed over his chest. he steps closer, eyes softening as they meet yours. "saw you staring at that dress," he teases, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering against your skin. "and now you’re looking at me with those big, innocent eyes like you didn’t just silently beg me to buy it for you." his thumb grazes your cheek."you’re lucky you’re cute," he murmurs, voice warm with affection as he glances back at the dress. "go try it on, princess. it’s yours." there’s a smug tilt to his grin as he nudges you forward, his gaze never leaving you, already imagining how beautiful you’ll look in it.

SIM JAKE

"no, no, no—wait, that’s cheating," jake says, eyes flickering between the screen and you, his hands gripping the controller like his life depends on it. he's this close to winning, completely focused, but then you turn to him, all wide, glistening eyes and a tiny pout, and his brain short-circuits. "oh, come on, that’s not fair," he groans, voice laced with disbelief, but you see the way his grip loosens, the way his character suddenly stops moving. "you—" he exhales a laugh, already knowing he lost, because you know exactly what you’re doing. "you’re evil." he barely gets the words out before he drops the controller, turning to you instead, cupping your jaw as he leans in, kissing you, like you just won something way more important than the game. "there," he mutters against your lips, breathless. "happy now?"

PARK SUNGHOON

"—and then he just randomly paid for my coffee today? like i didn't even ask, he just did it, which was kinda sweet—" "no." you blink, looking up at sunghoon, confused. "huh?" "i said no. don’t like him. don’t like this story. don’t like that he paid for your coffee." you pause, staring at him before your eyes go wide, lips parting slightly as you tilt your head. doe eyes. you didn't even do it on purpose, but the second you do, he curses under his breath as he looks away. "you’re so unfair," he mutters, ears turning red, and you grin, leaning closer. "hoonie, you jealous?" "not jealous," he mumbles against your shoulder. "just don't like other guys thinking they have a chance with my girl."

KIM SUNOO

"come on, just let me do it once," sunoo whines, practically bouncing on his knees in front of you, hands already reaching for the brush. "i’ve watched you do it a million times. i got this." you sigh, handing over your makeup bag, watching as he fumbles with the foundation before applying it surprisingly well—though he squints in concentration. the eyeliner is a little wobbly, and the blush? generously applied. but when he gets to the lipstick, he gently tilts your chin up, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "okay, now just—" but you blink up at him, wide, innocent doe eyes locking onto his, and his brain promptly malfunctions. the lipstick smears past the corner of your mouth. "oh my god," he glares, "you did that on purpose."

YANG JUNGWON

"and then, right when i thought i was finally done, they dumped even more work on me," jungwon huffs, leaning back against the couch, arms crossed as he talks about his day. his brows are furrowed, lips pursed in frustration, but you just sit there, quietly listening, eyes locked onto him. big, wide, soft. he doesn’t even notice at first, too caught up in his rant, but then his words start to slow, his voice faltering as he finally looks at you. "stop looking at me like that," he mutters, shifting under your gaze. you blink, tilting your head slightly. "like what?" you ask, all innocence, even though you know exactly what you're doing. jungwon groans, throwing his head back. he peeks at you from the corner of his eye, lips twitching like he's trying not to smile. "like that,"

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki grins, mischief dancing in his eyes as he dangles your phone just out of reach, swaying it between his fingers like a prize. “come on, work for it,” he teases, laughing when you huff in frustration. you step closer, tilting your head, lashes fluttering as you look up at him with the softest, most innocent gaze you can muster. wide, pleading eyes, lips slightly parted, pure desperation. his smirk falters. his fingers twitch. “oh, hell no,” he mutters, already crumbling. you blink once—slow, deliberate. riki groans, dramatically clutching his chest before shoving your phone back into your hands. you giggle, triumphant. he narrows his eyes. “don’t think i won’t steal your stuff again.” but you both know he’s lost this round.

[gnstay]

More Than Friends

Summary: Namgyu, typically confident, struggles with jealousy as his feelings for his friend Y/N deepen. Once alone, he confesses his desire to be more than friends, and to his relief, Y/N reciprocates his feelings. Both ready to explore and commit to a romantic relationship together.

Warnings: Jealousy, emotional tension, unspoken romantic feelings, etc!

Characters: Namgyu x F! Reader *Y/N*

Now Playing… more than friends - Isabel LaRosa

0:00 ─〇───── 15:00

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Namgyu had always been the cool, confident one in your friend group—effortlessly charming, effortlessly talented. But when it came to you, all of that confidence seemed to crumble.

It had started as a simple crush, something he thought would fade. But it never did. Every time you smiled at him, every time you laughed at one of his dumb jokes, his heart betrayed him.

And now, as he sat across the classroom, watching another guy—some random classmate of yours—lean in just a little too close while talking to you, Namgyu felt his blood simmer with quiet frustration.

“You okay?” his friend — Thanos nudged him, snapping him out of his intense staring.

Namgyu forced a smile. “Yeah. Just…thinking.”

Thinking about how that guy had no business making you laugh like that. Thinking about how much he hated the way your eyes sparkled when you were enjoying the conversation. That was supposed to be his thing.

He gritted his teeth when the guy casually placed a hand on top of your hand. That was it.

Pushing back his chair, Namgyu stood up. He walked over to you, placing a firm yet casual hand on your shoulder. “Hey, Y/N. We should get going, right? We have that thing to do.”

You blinked in confusion. “What thi—?”

“The thing,” he emphasized, giving you a look that screamed just go with it.

You tilted your head but decided to play along. “Oh! Right, that thing. I almost forgot.”

The guy you were talking to frowned. “Oh, well, I guess I’ll see you later then?”

Namgyu didn’t even give him a chance to linger. “Yeah, see you,” he said, practically dragging you out of the desk and classroom.

Once outside, you turned to him with a teasing grin. “Namgyu, what was that? Are you jealous?”

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Me? Jealous? No way. I just—he was annoying, that’s all.”

You stepped closer, tilting your head. “You were jealous.”

Namgyu sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. Maybe a little.” His voice softened, eyes flickering to yours. “I just don’t like seeing other guys getting too close to you.”

You looked up, surprised with his comment. “What do you mean, Namgyu?”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something. I… I like you. More than friends.”

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. “Namgyu… I’ve always liked you more than a friend, too.”

Namgyu felt his heart race, his fingers tightening around yours. Maybe jealousy wasn’t so bad after all—if it finally led him to this moment.

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The air between you and Namgyu felt different now. Lighter, yet charged with an unspoken intensity. His confession had unraveled something between you—something that had been waiting for far too long.

You held each other, a moment of laughter suddenly arising. Namgyu’s hand brushed against yours, hesitant, uncertain.

“So…” he started, voice softer than usual. “Are we really doing this?”

You smiled, squeezing his fingers before lacing them together with yours. “I think we’ve always been doing this. We just never said it out loud.”

His gaze flickered to your joined hands, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at his lips. “I still can’t believe you like me back.”

You nudged his shoulder playfully. “What’s so unbelievable about it?”

“I just…” He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. “I always thought I’d be stuck in the ‘best friend’ category forever.”

You tilted your head, stepping closer. “Namgyu, I was waiting for you to say something. If you didn’t, I might’ve had to make the first move.”

His eyes widened slightly before he chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I almost missed my chance.” His voice dropped to something softer, more serious. “I don’t want to mess this up, Y/N.”

“You won’t,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand. “We’ll figure it out together.”

A pause stretched between you before Namgyu exhaled, as if letting go of whatever last bits of doubt he had been holding onto. “So, does this mean I can call you my girlfriend now?”

Your heart fluttered at the words. “Only if I get to call you my boyfriend.”

His grin widened before, in a sudden burst of confidence, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I like the sound of that.”

You laughed, leaning in to kiss him. “Me too.”

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[umi-adxhira]

ᝰ.ᐟ SERENITY | 020

FANDOM: TWTPTFLOB

WARNINGS: Fontaine, Lante, Dion, a severed head

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Last post of today, hope you guys enjoy it

◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ►

It’s been two days since Dion came back, and you’re sitting in your room, eating some bread with soup. The doctor advised you not to eat solid food such as bread, but having it with a liquid to soften it would be okay.

You eat by yourself, content with the quaint atmosphere of the room. The bread with soup is good, much more savory than the soup you’re familiar with in your world. It must be due to the lack of exotic spices. If they can’t make it flavorful, then making it rich and savory is the next best thing.

The door to your room creaks open. You don’t need to look up to know who it is.

Lante stands over your small form, his presence as oppressive as ever. He smokes a cigar, the acrid scent stinging your nose. He takes a long drag before speaking.

"Since you're injured, you’ll have to make up for it later. I expect overtime. And when you’re back on your feet, you better doll yourself up properly. Consider it an apology for the inconvenience."

He turns to leave, then mutters under his breath, "Last time someone pulls a stunt like that." Your bread halts halfway to your mouth. Stunt?

"What do you mean?" you ask.

Lante glances at you over his shoulder, his expression one of mild irritation. "Fontaine's been dead for two days. His head's missing, but I'd recognize that stupid brat’s body anywhere."

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving you in silence.

Your stomach churns. The soup suddenly tastes like ash. Fontaine is dead. You have no doubt who did it.

Dion.

The blood on his cheek that morning. His calm, unbothered demeanor. He didn’t even hesitate, I bet. That makes me feel a lot better. One problem is gone, but I’d be an idiot to think that Fontaine is the only Agriche to pull off a stunt like that.

You push your half-empty bowl away, fingers curling over the edge of the wooden tray. I should eat. I won’t heal if I don’t. But the thought of swallowing anything now makes your throat close up.

Your thoughts scatter when Roxana enters, carrying fresh bandages, a basin full of water, and a towel. She says nothing as you set your food aside and pull the blanket off your body. The cold air makes you shiver.

She starts with your head, unwrapping the old bandages carefully, her fingers firm yet gentle. She dips the towel into the water, squeezing out the excess before dabbing at the wound. The water stings, sending a sharp jolt through your skull, but you don’t flinch. It’s better than infection.

She works in silence, her touch precise, pressing fresh gauze against your temple before securing it with clean bandages. Moving to your arms, she peels away the old wrappings, revealing healing bruises and shallow cuts. She cleans each wound methodically, replacing the bandages with practiced ease. Your legs are next - she lifts them gently, mindful of your sore muscles, fingers brushing against sensitive skin as she works.

By the time she reaches your torso, you’re trembling slightly, not from pain but from the sheer exposure. She unwinds the final layer of bandages, revealing the deep gash across your ribs. The cool air prickles against it, but Roxana says nothing. She only dips the towel again, pressing it firmly against the wound to clean away the dried blood.

The basin is now dark with bloodied water, the scent of iron thick in the air. She wraps the final bandage tightly, securing it with a knot before gathering the soiled wrappings and the basin. She turns toward the door, only to pause when it creaks open once more.

The door opens again. You don’t need to turn to know who it is this time either.

Dion steps in, a medium-sized box in his hands, wrapped with a red bow - the same shade as his eyes. Roxana stops, scowling at him before shoving past and leaving without another word.

Now, it’s just you and Dion.

He walks closer, setting the box beside you. You glance at him, searching his face for anything. He meets your gaze without hesitation, but he says nothing.

He’s watching me. The silence stretches between you both, thick and unspoken. You hesitate before reaching for the box. “You brought me something?” you ask, your tone teasing, though there’s an edge to it. Why does it feel so heavy?

Dion doesn’t respond. He only tilts his head slightly, watching you expectantly. You tug at the bow, undoing the knot, then lift the lid.

Inside, staring back at you, is a severed head.

Fontaine’s head.

Your breath catches. The world tilts.

The face is pale, slack with death. Blood stains his hair and the edges of his severed neck, dried and dark. His lifeless eyes remain half-open, a frozen expression of surprise barely etched onto his face. Flowers adorn the edge of the box, along with a single rose in the hole of his gouged eye. It’s an ugly sight to see, but something about it…

The silence is deafening.

Your hands tremble, but you don’t drop the box. You can’t move, can’t breathe.

Dion doesn’t say a word. He only watches.

You suck in a breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. He watches you with something unreadable in his crimson eyes, head tilted slightly, as if assessing your reaction. There is no remorse. No regret.

Your stomach churns violently, but you swallow it down. He did this for me. Didn’t he?

How sweet.

You exhale, pushing the lid back onto the box, blocking out the gruesome sight. It doesn’t erase the image from your mind, though. Fontaine's dead eye is seared into your thoughts.

Dion shifts closer, his presence suffocating in its intensity. His fingers brush against your cheek, cold and deliberate. He lingers there, his touch featherlight, testing.

Your pulse stutters. You should pull away. You don’t.

His lips barely part, his voice a whisper. "Afraid?"

You swallow, shaking your head. "No."

His fingers trail lower, his touch ghosting down your jawline before he pulls away.

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips - something dark, something satisfied.

"Good."

The room feels smaller. The air between you charged with something unspoken. You don’t have an answer, but one thing is clear - Dion did this for you. He has no intention of leaving.

And now, neither do you.

TAGLIST: @evaxmisu, @00hellohello00, @welpthisisboring, @hsrvl264, @flyingpansaurus

[writingwhimsey]

Becoming Comtesse Ch. 15

A/N: NSFW 18+ content at the beginning of this chapter. Fingering, PIV.

Chapter 15

Comte awoke as the light of the morning sun creeped across his face. Of course, he didn’t mind. Especially not when his eyes opened to see his beloved in his arms, her warm bare flesh pressed against his. Her eyes closed in peaceful slumber.

He couldn’t help the smile that came to his face as he looked at her sleeping so peacefully. Memories from the previous night played through his mind. When she’d come into their room last night after Amelie had told her what he was, he’d been so nervous. He’d been so afraid that he had lost every chance of being able to earn her love.

And yet, here it was she had already given her heart to him. Comte had dared hope for such a wonderful outcome, but he’d always felt it was a long shot. This wonderful woman returned his love! How could he have been so lucky? She loved him despite how selfish he had been in even wanting her in the first place.

He lifted a hand to stroke her hair as she slept in his arms. He kissed her gently on the forehead. “Forgive me, mon amour.” He murmured to her sleeping form. Not only had she been so generous in returning his love, but she’d given herself to him last night. Allowed him the privilege to make love to her. And he’d happily indulged…over and over again, until she had been a trembling mess in his arms. He would be sure to see to her care and comfort this morning as penance for her generosity. 

Colette began to stir, her face nuzzling against his chest as a sleepy sigh escaped her lips. “Mmm…”

“I never tire of waking next to you, ma cherie.” He told her, kissing her on the forehead once more.

Her beautiful emerald eyes slowly opened. She smiled at him. “Morning, my love.” She mumbled sleepily, making Comte’s heart tremble.

“Good morning, mon amour.” He replied, lifting a hand to caress her cheek. “How are you feeling? Is anything sore?” He asked, his voice gentle and caring.

Colette laid there for a moment as memories of their night together came rushing back. Her cheeks reddened in the loveliest of ways. “We…last night…that wasn’t just a dream…”

Comte chuckled and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “It was far better than any dream.”

Colette nodded. “Yes, it was.” She said, her cheeks flushing further as she admitted that she had enjoyed it. “Last night…was amazing.”

Desire instantly flared in le Comte at how adorable she was being. “Ma cherie…it is far too early in the morning for you to look so tempting.” He said, leaning in to kiss along her jaw. “I’m trying to remain a gentleman and spend the morning taking care of you, but when you look like that and say things like that, it makes me want to spend the morning making love to you again…”

Colette gasped and then her arms were wrapping around him. “Mmm…since you were so good to me last night…I can’t think of anything I’d rather do more…”

Comte’s eyes went wide and he turned his gaze to her lovely face. Her eyes were lidded with desire. She was completely amenable to the idea. “Ma cherie…” He murmured before capturing her lips with his and rolling them over so that he was on top of her once more. 

As their kiss deepened, Comte slid his hands over her body, feeling her curves before slipping one hand between her thighs, fingers toying with her heat and thumb teasing that little pleasure pearl.

He broke their kiss to trail kisses along her neck and over her collarbones as he continued to work her with his fingers. Her hips bucked against his hand, pressing herself further into it. Last night had been their first night and Colette’s first time ever, and yet Comte was already an expert on her body, knowing where and how to touch her to have her respond in the most pleasurable of ways.

His lips made their way to her breasts and she let out a cry as he drew a nipple into his mouth, his fingers still working between her thighs. “Abel!”

Hearing her cry out his name was such an addicting feeling. Even more intoxicating than when he drank her blood. He adored the sound of his name being cried from her lips. He continued to stroke her until she was cumming around his fingers.

He pulled back slightly to look at her. She was flushed and panting. Her breasts heaving with her breath. Her soft skin already coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Gods she was breathtaking! 

She smiled as she reached for him. “I love…you, Abel.” She said in a breathy tone.

He smiled as he settled over her, positioning himself better between her legs, his throbbing cock at her entrance. He held her close. “As I love you, Colette.” He murmured before slipping inside her, fully connecting with her.

She moaned at the sensation as she held onto him. She leaned in and kissed along his throat as her hands moved over the lines of his back, causing a shiver of pleasure to run through him. The more times they made love, the bolder she seemed to grow…and he loved it. He loved every touch and kiss she lavished upon him. His heart sang for her, even as his body ached for her.

“Hah…Colette…ma cherie…mon amour…mon ange…” He moaned as he began to move, starting off with a slow and steady pace for his thrusts.

“Ngh…Abel…my love…my darling…” She moaned as she clung to him, her hips beginning to move with his.

Comte slowly picked up his pace, spurred on by her loving words and touch, until they were both cumming. He kissed her gently on the lips as they both came down. When he looked into her eyes, he knew they were once again only just getting started.

Meanwhile downstairs…

Bernard and Amelie walked into the kitchen of the chateau together. “I'm worried about Comtesse.” His wife said. “She didn't come into the village last night.”

“Perhaps she and le Comte talked and she felt she had nothing to fear.” Bernard said. “As I know she does not.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Comte is a good man. He saved my life and made sure I was able to follow my passion and receive a proper education.” Bernard said. “And even gave me this job which allowed me to meet my own lovely wife.”

Amelie sighed, though she fought off a smile at the adoring look Bernard gave her. “I suppose I should see if I can find her. See how she is doing.”

Amelie opened the door to head into the rest of the house. That was when she heard a loud cry from the bedrooms upstairs.

“ABEL!”

“That sounded like the Comtesse…”

Bernard was behind her chuckling. “It sounds like they'll be having a late breakfast.”

“Colette…mon amour!” Came Comte’s voice. 

Amelie's cheeks reddened as she realized what was happening upstairs.

Bernard laughed. “Perhaps you spilling le Comte’s secret worked out in his favor. Bet you end up with a raise out of this.”

“I…I do not understand the Comtesse. After learning the truth about him…why is she not running?” Amelie said.

“Why have you not run, mon coeur?” Bernard asked his wife.

“Because the pay is good and we hardly ever see him.” She answered.

“And perhaps because you realize deep down le Comte is a good man. All the others we know who work for nobles talk of his generosity.”

Amelie sighed. “I don't know…”

Bernard kissed his wife on the cheek. “Come on, I think they'll be busy for a while.”

Later Colette…

I lay in Abel’s arms, my head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling his warmth. His hands were moving up and down my back in a gentle soothing manner and he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Forgive me, my darling.” He murmured. “It seems I am much more selfish than I realized I would be.”

I laughed as I snuggled closer to him. “When you being selfish has me feeling so good, I can't complain.” I replied. “Even if it might be sometime before I can walk again.”

Abel chuckled and kissed me gently on the lips. “I'll carry you wherever you need to go.” He told me, smiling warmly at me.

I giggled. “You might have to…though I’m quite content to stay right here.” It was at this moment, my stomach decided to let out a rather loud growl. 

“It seems while you are content, your stomach says otherwise, mon amour.” Abel teased.

“Well, I did work up an appetite.” I replied, blushing.

Abel gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead. “It seems the first order of business is to get you some breakfast…though it is lunch time now, I believe.” 

“What about you?” I asked. “Or do you not really need to eat?” It occurred to me, I hadn’t really asked as many questions as I truly had.

“I don’t need food to survive, but I do just like eating.” Abel answered as he slowly disentangled himself from me and went over to grab his robe. Once he had slid on his robe, he reached for mine, bringing it over to me.

I slowly pushed myself up into a sitting position, finally realizing how much my lower back muscles were aching…though it wasn’t an unpleasant ache. I stretched before Abel helped me to put my robe on. “Thank you.” I told him.

He smiled warmly at me and gave me a warm, loving peck on the lips. “Thank you, ma cherie.” He replied as he reached for me, scooping me up into his arms. “Now, shall we get something to eat?”

“Yes…you don’t really have to carry me all the way downstairs…” Though I was trying to protest, my arms wrapped around him and I buried my face in the crook of his neck.

Abel chuckled. “Oh, but I do.” He said. “And after breakfast, how about a nice bath and a massage?” He asked me as he began to carry me from our room.

“That sounds quite heavenly.” I answered. “You don’t have to do all of that though.”

“But I want to, Colette.” Abel replied. “I want to spoil you.”

“Well…if you really want to…”

Abel chuckled. “I very much do.” He said, kissing my cheek.

We were soon arriving in the dining room where Bernard and Amelie were just setting the table. Amelie looked nervous. Bernard was smiling at us. “Good morning, or should I say good afternoon, Comte, Comtesse.” Bernard greeted us.

“Good morning.” Abel replied.

“Good morning.” I replied, my cheeks red. Clearly they had known what we had been up to all morning…oh…oh no they probably heard. I had been rather��vocal.

“Your breakfast is ready. If you need anything else, just let us know.” Bernard said before bowing.

Amelie looked hesitant before leaving as well. Abel carried me over to my chair and gently sat me down, before taking his own seat. He reached his hand over to me, taking mine in his. “Ma cherie, you look a bit flustered.”

“I was…they probably heard us this morning.” I replied.

Abel chuckled as he brought my hand to his lips, kissing it reverently. “Mmm, probably. However, we are on our honeymoon.” He told me. “That is exactly what we are expected to do.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.” I replied.

Abel leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “You are so cute.”

I couldn’t help but to enjoy his affections, despite my embarrassment. I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. “Let’s just eat…”

Abel chuckled and released my hand and dug into his food. I noticed there was a cup of coffee and a bottle of that white liquid I had seen the night before. “What’s that?” I asked.

“It is called blanc.” Abel answered. “It comes from a white flower. It helps to sustain vampires when rouge is not readily available.”

“I see.” I replied. “I realize…I didn’t ask too many questions last night…”

“Ask whatever you want to, ma cherie. I will answer all of your questions.” He told me.

I nodded and took a bite of my food as I thought of what my next question would be. “So, how many people know?” I asked. “What about the residents of the mansion?”

“Most in society don’t know.” Abel answered me. “And the residents all know, as all of them with the exception of Sebastian are vampires as well.”

“Really?” 

Abel nodded. “With a couple of exceptions, I turned them all.” 

“You mean…they used to be humans?” I asked.

Abel nodded. He then explained to me that the residents were in fact, not only vampires but men from different time periods. Most of them being men from the past. Though there were two that didn’t quite make sense, Arthur and Dazai…that was when Abel told me about a special door in the mansion.

“You…you’re telling me that you can time travel?” I asked in disbelief.

Abel chuckled. “You can readily believe in vampires, but not time travel?”

“You have a point, but still.” I replied. “It’s just…really?”

Abel nodded. “Yes. I swear to you, I am being honest.”

“Okay…but you turned them all?” I asked. “How does that work? Were you once human?”

Abel shook his head. “No. I was born as a vampire.” He answered. “I am what is referred to as a pureblood. Leonardo is as well. Only purebloods can sire other vampires.”

“Oh? And how do you do that?”

“With a bite.” Abel answered.

I nodded. “What about all the myths…that you know you can’t go out in the sun? I’ve obviously seen that that isn’t true.”

“I’m honestly not sure where it came from. I believe perhaps it has something to do with the relative secrecy with which we must live our lives.” Abel answered.

I nodded. “That could make sense.” I agreed. “So…another question, when we talked last week before the wedding, you mentioned being older than you appeared…how old are you exactly? I mean if you have turned all these others and what not…”

“Honestly…I’m not entirely sure.” Abel answered me. “After a couple of centuries it’s easy to lose track.”

“I see.” I replied.

“Does it bother you, mon amour?” 

I shook my head and then I let out a laugh. “Though it does appear I was right.”

“Right about what?” Abel asked me.

I grinned. “That I would end up married to an old man.”

Abel chuckled as he reached for my hand, bringing it to his lips. “I suppose you have.”

We ate our breakfast together, chatting all the while, Abel answering my seemingly endless questions. Amelie came in to clean up our plates as we had finished the food and were drinking coffee now.

Amelie seemed to be looking at me in question as I asked Abel my own questions. “Is something the matter, Amelie?” I asked her after a moment.

“Nothing, Comtesse.” She answered. She then bowed and left, taking the dishes with her.

I couldn’t help but to frown. I know she was only concerned…and her reaction was honestly probably one of the more natural ones…but I couldn’t help it.

“Why are you frowning, ma cherie?” Abel asked, his fingertips tracing over the corner of my mouth.

“I just…it bothers me.” I replied. “I know she’s genuinely concerned, but…I know there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Abel nodded. “In all fairness, her weariness towards me is perfectly natural.”

“Are you saying my  lack of weariness is unnatural?” I teased.

He chuckled once again. “Perhaps.” He answered. “I do have to wonder, why you’ve never once feared me…and why you can have such a curious nature about vampires. Amelie for example, finds my very existence unnatural since I technically live off of others.”

“Humans live off of other living creatures.” I replied. “The eggs and bacon we had for breakfast this morning. The milk I mixed with my coffee. The roast duck we had for dinner last night…need I go on?”

Abel looked at me. “Those are fair points.”

“And as far as why I have never been afraid of you in particular…thirteen years ago, I could tell you meant no harm. You were hiding out in the kitchen. If you had meant harm to my family, you would have been in one of the bedrooms or rummaging through my father’s office. You wouldn’t have actually been the first person to break into a house looking for food.”

“I was really just looking for a place to hide at the time.” Abel replied. “You provided the meal without me asking.”

I felt myself flush. “I did.” I replied, smiling at him. “And even now…after Amelie told me what you are…I knew that I had nothing to fear from you. You have been nothing but wonderful to me.”

“You are my treasure. I will always treat you as such.” Abel told me, taking my hand and kissing it in promise. “Speaking of, are you ready for that bath now, mon amour?”

I smiled. “A bath does sound nice.”

Abel grinned and then stood before scooping me up into his arms once more, carrying me upstairs to the bathroom, where he gave me a thorough pampering. A warm bath with rose petals and scented oils and a massage. Just as expertly as his hands worked my body into a heated frenzy, they soothed and relaxed my body completely.

“I love you, Abel.”

“I love you, Colette.”

Taglist:

@zulablaise @kisara-16 @tele86

@otomewonderland @lovely-bubb1es @lucyw260 @queengiuliettafirstlady

@obeymetalesandikemen @leiaglamela @fang-and-feather @eventinelysplayground

[elsajoyagent8]

So uh… https://www.tumblr.com/elsajoyagent8/774680073292955648/so-todays-eaps-video-ooh-boy-eclipse-was <— this.

I said at the end I’d make a fanfic or OneShot about this. So I have.

Here we go…

I Can’t Breathe — Eclipse OneShot

Go, go, get to the lab, where no one can see you.

Why?!

Why did Charlie do that?!

As soon as I got to the lab, I slammed the door shut and made sure it was locked.

I can let my walls down now.

I couldn’t breathe in that body.

To be fair, I still can’t breathe now.

I didn’t even notice that once I was alone my breathing sped up. Not until now anyway.

If I’m honest, I’m more relieved than anything.

But holy shit, that was a can of worms that I never wanted reopening.

I thought I was trapped again.

The girls all saying that we should go do girly things only made things ten times worse.

Not that I told them why.

I can’t tell anyone the real reason.

I’ll just end up being thought as weak.

No.

You’re strong.

You’re not a baby.

Before I can even stop myself, though… I’m holding myself tight and trying so hard not to cry.

Stop that, you moron! Pull yourself together.

You’re fine.

You’re fine.

You’re fine…

But telling myself that only made me start audibly sobbing.

Clutching at my chest.

Falling to my knees.

I can’t breathe.

No one will understand.

No one will care.

You’re just a plaything to them.

They love turning you into things.

Your annoyance brings them entertainment.

No one will get why you hated that so much.

I can’t breathe.

I don’t even need to breathe. My body’s tricking me into thinking I need to.

I can’t breathe.

Just thinking about what happened, how I acted… it was horrible.

Flashbacks were arising and I hated it.

I can’t breathe.

I don’t even know why I’m getting so worked up.

That wasn’t even me that experienced it before.

I’m a clone. I’m not even the real thing.

But somehow that makes things worse.

I can’t breathe.

I’m not her.

I’m not her.

I will never be her.

Never again.

Pull yourself together, you bastard.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t even stand. I have to pathetically crawl on the floor.

So pathetic.

How close was I to being outed?

Monty must have figured it out. The way she was talking…

Ballora won’t know. As much as I trust her, I can’t. I don’t have the courage.

And Charlie won’t even know what it means.

Sun and Moon… thank god I didn’t see those two.

Ruin? I don’t care about him. He doesn’t give a fuck about me. I wouldn’t dare let him see me that vulnerable.

He saw me vulnerable once. One time too many.

I can’t breathe.

I scrambled further into my lab, something catching my eye.

Myself.

God, I look like shit.

It was who I wanted to be, but I looked absolutely beside myself.

Miserable.

Well, because I was.

At this point I just wanted to go to bed.

But I was terrified at the idea of having a nightmare about it.

Again.

I can’t breathe.

I’ve got puffy eyes. How is that even possible?

How long have I even been crying for?

It felt like hours, but it was apparently only ten minutes.

I still can’t breathe.

I need to calm down.

My head hurts.

My mind hurts.

My body hurts.

Everything hurts.

All this over being turned into a girl again.

All my progress just wiped in a matter of seconds.

I’d finally gotten used to being in my own body again.

And then Charlie fucking ruins it.

No.

Don’t be mad at her, Eclipse.

She doesn’t know.

She doesn’t have to know.

No one will have to.

I can’t breathe.

[sldlovescartoons]

…Ah, what the hell, it’s been a minute since I’ve been intentionally cruel, I might as well give myself a little treat by being an asshole on purpose. Don’t worry, I’ll put MY thoughts in a numbered list, maybe that will help out your comprehension.

1. Let’s get this out of the way first, I am the original replier. You’d think someone with an English degree would have a high enough reading comprehension level to catch that.

2. While there are contexts that ‘but’ would mean two things true at once, that is not what you did in the instances I indicated to, as I specified the occurrence of compound sentences

Since I’ve decided I’m in my asshole bag, I went ahead and clearly marked out the incidence so you can’t miss it. When ‘but’ is used like this, it’s generally considered negatory language. I’m surprised they didn’t teach you that in college, I only got a measly degree in computer graphic design, and they still bothered to teach me this.

3. If you didn’t want to come off as thinking that people salty about the prominence if VM and M9 in the finale/campaign as silly or otherwise ignorant, starting out the top of the post with “I know some folks are going to be upset about the amount of time Vox Machina and the Mighty Nein took up during this finale” and spend one whole bullet point dedicated to reminding people that it’s not other people’s fault if you only watched c3 or if c3 is your favorite. That’s definitely not indicative of a pattern of thought/belief about certain parts of the fandom. Oh wait, it is! It also risks people of that group not wanting to have discourse with you, especially when everything you say on the matter indicates that you’ve already made up your mind and won’t be any fun to talk to because you’re going to pull out the shows nature as some sort of gotcha card to dismiss their feelings/thoughts on the matter.

4. You’ve yet to point out in any meaningful way why it being a DnD actual play would interfere or make narrative satisfaction different than any other type of story telling. Since you have an English degree, I’m sure you know that conflict, cause and effect, and consequence are core to good storytelling and narrative satisfaction. There is a long storied history of people being mad that stories don’t have proper consequences for choices. Most complaints about I’ve seen about the show’s consequences or lack thereof have been pretty legit. Some kooks, like always, but mostly pretty grounded. I’d maybe give your opinion on it being for the cast more weight if the other campaigns didn’t have lots of consequences with narratives that actually affected the world/events because of the characters choices. Fjord was chased down by sea monsters everytime he was on the ocean until the first Reunited Ep where they took on his former patron, but Orym? Nah. Vax got indebted to the raven queen to save his sisters life and that resulted in him being a revenant and Champion of the Raven Queen, taken away for 30 years, but the Bells can just do Ludinus’s plan for him and get bailed out by the previous parties because why would choosing to turn the gods mortal result in things like consequences from all the religious people on the planet? It being an actual play doesn’t negate people’s biggest actual complaint: lack of consequences! A thing that actually happened prominently, though not always and not always perfectly, in previous campaigns. It’s always nice to see the cast have a good time, but that doesn’t unexist flaws in a narrative. Being happy for a character being happy doesn’t stop me or anyone else from being critical of that ending if it doesn’t feel narratively satisfying.

5. Not gently, as mean as possible: you should either get a refund or go back to school because it appears you have trouble with reading comprehension, abstract thinking, and complex reasoning. You didn’t get your money’s worth, I’m afraid.

6. Looking at a bunch of people upset with how one of their favorite “live” shows has played out and basically saying “um, actually, this isn’t about YOU.” Is both dismissive and a massive dick move. And while you were likely targeting a certain brand of Entitled Crazy Fan, the way you went about it originally was just disjointed and vague enough to be easily read as a slide against large chunks of different opinions.

I’ll probably delete this later, I don’t relish in crashing out as much I like to think I would, but I already spent so much time typing so might as well send

i know some people are going to be upset by how much time vox machina and the mighty nein took up during this finale, so i want to say a couple of things

these campaigns have always been and will always be for the entertainment and enjoyment of matt and his players, first and foremost. their good time has always been and will always been more important than that of the audience, which has been invited in to watch something that existed before we even knew about it. we are of course entitled to our opinions about what we watch, but it's important to remember that those opinions will never, ever matter as much as those of the people around the table.

it is an unspeakable feat of storytelling, collaboration, creativity, and friendship for these people to have done what they just did. over ten years (well over, including the time they played pre-stream) of building a narrative that spanned decades and continents and planes and celestials bodies, of making decisions and seeing their consequences out to the fullest, of bringing to life characters that felt more genuine and real than anything one can find on the silver screen—this is the kind of expansive storytelling that marvel thought it was doing with the mcu. to be able to tell a story so powerful that it cannot reasonably contained within the confines of distinct d&d campaigns is a staggering accomplishment, and we're all lucky to bear witness to it.

it is no one else's fault if you only watched c3, or weren't caught up on c1/2 when you watched the finale, or if you didn't like c1/2 but did like c3. again, you're entitled to your opinions and to how you spend your time, but this story did not begin in jrusar, so it is unreasonable to expect it to end there.

no one, including you, benefits by being salty that these people were having fun. no one, including you, is made better by your dissatisfaction with how these people chose together to tell this story. i have read countless books and watched countless tv shows and films in my life, and none of the stories therein have been told exactly the way i would have told them, and that's what i love so much about being human. if i'd been at that table, of course i would have made different decisions, and of course you would have too. but we got to see these decisions, and these consequences, and the ephemeralness of that is so beautiful i could cry.

as i have i said eight billion times before, and will probably have to say eight billion times again, critical role is not a tv show. critical role is not a novel. critical role does not have a writer's room or a five-year plan. (well, matt might, but not in the moment.) critical role is a story that happens in the moment, a story built on matt's careful planning and the players' in-the-moment decisions and, of course, the rolls of the dice. if you are holding this kind of story to the narrative standards of something crafted for the sole purpose of entertaining an audience, you are always, always going to be disappointed.

[sulkysnape]

hola, i was wondering if you could do something with snape in his classroom where a student sneaks under his desk during lunch waiting for him, you know what happens when he and his class come in yk yk, then after the class he has 20 minutes before his next class to,, punish.. her

I’m more than happy to write about two consenting adults tho!!!!

[mobbothetrue]

I’ve reached the point in my Fairy Tail rewatch where it’s further along than tfd ever got, which means shit keeps happening that makes me go “fucking WHAT”

[icelogged]

hello one more bitch for the road 😔✌🏾terf is not a synonym for transphobe. terf is an acronym. tme trans people can be terfs. next scheduled bitchfest is between me our heavenly father amen or to annoy you specifically ❤️

[aptericia]

more thoughts

I think over the past five-ish years I’ve gone from wanting to die and hating myself for it to wanting to live life to the fullest and somehow also hating myself for it.

Because I was musing on this post again and I think my feelings come down to the fact that when I’ve failed at things before, it was because I didn’t try that hard; that is, I didn’t want to succeed. And now with my condition, it’s more apparent that reason I’m failing at things is because I can’t succeed. The latter situation is much scarier and more humiliating because it’s out of my control. I can’t just brush it off by saying “eh, well it didn’t matter that much anyway.” But honestly? I don’t think there’s a clear distinction between the two situations. With executive dysfunction (currently my most debilitating symptom) especially, it can be impossible to tell the difference between physical capability and mental desire.

All this to say, I feel like maybe my condition isn’t even the problem. Yeah it’s a massive pain and totally unfair, but I’m still theoretically able to enjoy life. The real problem is that college is fucking hard! And since my health took this hit, it doesn’t mean I CAN’T complete school, just that the steps I’d need to take to do so would probably make me miserable & unable to live my life the way I want.

And theoretically that realization should make it easy to decide!! Like I said at the beginning, I care about my own happiness now. I’ve worked so hard to gain appreciation for my existence, to find immense amounts of joy in the mundane, to discover things I want to share and experience and create, and that is absolutely precious to me. I can think of so many experiences more worthwhile than struggling through college (because again, the only way now to get through college would be to struggle). But I’m so, so embarrassed to make that call. I don’t want to be “another college dropout.” I don’t want to be “another uneducated once-homeschooled adult.” I don’t want to be “another starving artist.” I hate myself for daring to prioritize my fulfillment in life over the judgement of others.

So maybe I’m not even ashamed that I’m disabled. What I’m ashamed about is the possibility of not having the lifestyle that other people want/expect me to have. And my condition has forced me to make a choice between that lifestyle and my actual happiness.

Sometimes I wish I could just erase myself from the memory of everyone who knew me before, like, 2022 or so. Everyone who knew me when I was an able-bodied straight-A student who never shared her own thoughts or took up space. Everyone who told me I was going to do great things because I was so good at STEM. Everyone who told me I was such a kind person who always prioritized others. Also, everyone who told me I was always going to end up struggling because I didn’t exercise enough or wanted to be an artist or whatever, and had no idea that the real reason would be because of a sudden disability. I still love you all, but I just don’t want to give your judgements any place in my life anymore.

vent

Guys, I really don’t want to. I really really don’t want to admit that I’m disabled.

I’m supposed to be lucky. I’m 100% physically safe and financially secure. I have wonderful parents who prioritize my health and happiness and gave me a far better education than most of my peers got. I have been surrounded my compassionate and accepting people my whole life. And even in addition to how privileged I am, I’ve done really well for myself. It was so, so fucking hard to pull myself away from suicidal ideation and to not just “not hating” myself, but actually being proud… and I did it. I’ve worked really hard on the things I love and I’m good at them. I’m good at being independent, but I also know how to ask for help. I challenge myself and I let myself rest. I try things and I learn things. And I sure have used all those skills to try to get myself out of, or at least learn to cope with, my current situation.

I was so proud of myself this week for finally, finally doing my chores and schoolwork early, despite so many failed attempts to do so. I already know resting doesn’t help (I tried that first, and I tried it a lot) and at last I actually succeeded in pushing myself. I told myself that if I just got everything done, I could get ahead, I could rest later. And guess what? I never got any fucking rest. I never got ahead. I don’t feel even the slightest bit better.

I hate it, I hate it so so much that I’ve done everything right. I hate that all the odds are stacked in my favor. I hate that I spent so long learning to even want to be happy, and yet now I can’t be. I hate that I can’t blame myself or anyone else for what’s wrong with me, not because I want to be angry at something, but because I want to have some direction in where to start and how to get my life back. Admitting I’m disabled means admitting that the person who bullied me was right, that there’s nothing I can do, that I’m actually just Less Smart, Less Strong, Less Fortunate. And it makes me scared that she was also right about the consequences of that. That I’m not worth accomodating, that it’s unfair to make others deal with me, that I’m a burden.

I truly don’t hate myself any more. But sometimes I wish I did. because at least then I wouldn’t be so angry at all the shit I have to deal with.

[loveofmylouis]

.

[rose-tinted-nostalgia]

I had to tell my manager, borderline in tears, that I had to go home just minutes after clocking into my second shift after finally returning to work this week because my son’s father is so incapable of watching his own children that he had a tantrum until I came home. But I got to dance in the kitchen with my kids while my oldest very proudly made pancakes all by himself, and although I sobbed the entire way home, seeing my children smile at me with that much love almost made me forget it.

[soleilapproves]

Boxer!Sukuna who makes you kiss his gloves before his match for good luck.

masterlist

His team had left the locker room and it was just the two of you now. You were sitting on a bench while he organized his bag. “I didn’t know you got so many freebies from your sponsorships.” In your hand, was a brand new boxing shoe that he received from UnderArmor for a sports shoot campaign.

“Eh, they’re not really what I need in the actual matches but I use them during training cause I don’t wanna waste ‘em,” he mumbled. He seemed to be more on edge than usual. During his last match, he lost by a landslide, having a sour taste in his mouth from the experience. He blamed you because you weren’t there to kiss his glove prior to the match.

You turn to look at him staring down at his gloves.

“Sukuna.”

“Yeah?” He turned to look at you. No smiles, just a deadpan expression. You walked towards him and held his face in your hands. You could tell he was nervous about the fight even though he had won so many before.

“Honey, what’s on your mind?” Your voice was sincere and comforting for him. “What if I’m in a slump? My last match was so bad. I’ve never lost like that. What if I’m on a losing streak now?”

You get on your tippy toes and kiss his cheek. “Sukuna, you’ve worked hard have you not?” He nods. “And you feel like you’ve trained well this time.” He nods again. “Then why are you so worried? Is it because you were distracted last time?”

He sighs and wraps his arms around you, burying his head in the crook of your neck in the process. “Look, I don’t know if you think it’s weird but when I see you outside the ring, I feel like I have a reason to win. It drives me to fight better. I had a really shitty day last time and when I didn’t see you I just didn’t feel like giving my all.”

Your heart felt like it was being torn to pieces after seeing your husband sulk. “I just felt burnt out. I was hoping that once I saw you then I’d feel better.”

You hugged him tighter and kissed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sukuna, I promise I’ll never do that again.” You start rubbing your hand up and down his back in hopes to calm him down right before his match.

“Kiss my gloves for me?” he asks as he pulls away. You nod. He takes his boxing gloves out and places them in your hands. You leave a delicate kiss on each of them, your gloss leaving a small sparkly stain. He takes them from your hand and kisses them on the same spots as you did, maintaining eye contact with you throughout. “You’re my good luck charm, you know that?” he says as he strokes your head.

You show him a teethy grin and nod.

“And you’re mine.” Your reply made him smash his lips to yours. “I’ll be sure to win now that you’re here.” He mumbled against your lips.

—

No thoughts. Just boxer!sukuna

[fingertipsmp3]

That last post just reminded me of something honestly mind-boggling that that friend did

[bakuraryxu]

tired but can’t sleep. laying still in the dark didn’t help. looking to get someone to crack me over the head with a shovel or some such weapon to knock me out

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’m remarkably bad at food in general. I didn’t come from a household of cooks and my family doesn’t do food in a wholesome way. Food ends up being fuel that’s tiresome but necessary for the most part.

There’s also not like easily accessible classes or ways to really learn about food. So I really feel like I can’t be blamed for this one instance when I was living in Arizona.

I had moved there to be with my then-girlfriend. I ended up doing more of the shopping because she was working 11pm-4am shifts at the radio station and her sleep schedule was disastrously not conducive to daily tasks.

She requested lettuce for her lunch sandwiches. The morning after shopping I awoke to her standing over me in bed.

I sleepily greeted her and she said, “I’m not mad, but did you buy cabbage?”

My tired brain processed this. What was the difference between cabbage and lettuce? Lettuce was round. Was cabbage? I didn’t think cabbage was round. Wasn’t it purple? “No,” I said decisively.

“Come look at this.”

I dutifully got up to follow her to the kitchen. She pulled out the vegetable I’d bought. It still looked vaguely lettucey but I was starting to feel a tingle of uncertainty.

“It’s lettuce,” I stated, proving once again that just saying something doesn’t make it so.

“I ate a whole sandwich with it. It didn’t taste like lettuce.” Folks. It was cabbage. She’d eaten several leaves of raw cabbage. But in my defense why didn’t she know better?

“No, it’s definitely lettuce.” An undercurrent was forming between us. She knew I no longer believed this was lettuce. She’d eaten raw cabbage leaves rather than question me sooner about the purchase. But I was clearly willing to die on this hill.

“Where the receipt?”

What followed was an instantaneous mad dash across the kitchen to secure the receipt first. We flailed and squabbled at each other, both desperate to have our way with the truth of the matter.

My grubby little hands found it first and we wrestled down to the ground over the unassuming slip of paper. I was wily and quick, but she was stronger, and we tussled with our whole hearts over the inconsequential thing.

When it was clear she was moments away from overpowering me I shoved the whole receipt into my mouth like a frantic little Pac-Man, undeterred by the toxic bitterness of the receipt paper.

We ended up in stitches on the ground as I laughed and choked on the wretched thing. I spat it into the garbage and thus won the right to my fiction. It was lettuce.