#I just feel privileged for being allowed to witness it

[subtle-as-an-earthquake]

Things I have done today:

worked

had lunch

lay on the floor and cried because I got overwhelmed by how beautiful and precious and special alex and miles' relationship is and how intense and brilliant the bond that they share and how perfectly the stars aligned the day they met each other and formed their unique connection

[cloudwisp]

✮ sylus x wife!reader

contents: fluff, suggestive. arranged marriage au. hints of slow burn. you like playing hard to get and he loves calling you his wife. 1.4k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ I had to deposit my messy thoughts somewhere and this headcanon post was the result.

part two here. ꒱

⭒ Arranged marriage with Sylus where he prefers to call it a “strategic partnership” as a means of appearances to flaunt that he has it all—an empire, riches, strength, influence and now a darling wife who waits for him at home. You’re not so much as a random choice, Sylus had been watching you from afar for a while and in exchange for his protection in the N109 zone he strikes a deal with you to play a simple role. You have every reason to be wary of him and know to keep your wits about yourself, but even you acknowledge that your chances are better with him. Though, if you asked him how he was so certain you’d agree to his proposal he’d admit that he wasn’t but he knew you’d consider it if he had an advantage over you.

⭒ He sets his terms and conditions—you reside in his humble abode, wedding ring always worn on your finger, and attend events with him as a pretty accessory on his arm to contribute to his image. But he’ll never admit that he actually enjoys your company at business functions that often feel dull to him. You are more than welcome to spend your days as you please so long you don’t cause him trouble, and that also means you have his black card privileges to spoil yourself rotten. Of course, he accommodates most requests you may have like sleeping in separate rooms if that’s what you wish (and redecorating because his furnishing decisions are quite bleak).

⭒ Luke and Kieran can sense that their boss feels something for you despite his nonchalance toward this little arrangement. It starts off small, it always does—Sylus takes note of your morning and night routine, your picky eating habits and has the chef make adjustments to your preference, how he sees you out in the gardens and come back with spring tulips to brighten the space and the next week he already replaced the slowly withering flowers with fresh ones. The twins whisper among themselves that he’s often less annoyed and irritated when you’re around, and their boss wouldn’t go through the trouble of being considerate unless he cares for you. It’s almost exciting for them both to witness a budding romance unfold before their very eyes and they do offer a helping hand here and there to keep things interesting.

⭒ Sylus thinks it’s adorable how you keep trying to resist him and that’s precisely the reason he loves seeking you out just to watch your resolve crumble under his touch. He finds you in the kitchen preparing a snack and cages you from behind with his hands planted on either side of you against the counter. “Hey kitten, I thought I’d find you in here.” You feel his hot breath down your neck as he pushes your hair aside just enough to lay a soft kiss on your shoulder. He chuckles when you comment that he’s being awfully touchy with you, and he purposely moves closer so that his chest is pressing against your back. “Perhaps I just can’t keep my hands to myself where you’re involved. Besides, you’re my wife now. I think I have the right to touch you whenever I like.”

⭒ You remind him that you’re his wife in title only, but that doesn’t discourage his flirtation and teasing as he allows you to nudge past him. He follows you into the common area and takes a seat on the couch, spreading his legs wide and taking up a lot of space. His gaze is settled on you as he pats his thigh and his lips curl into a smirk. “Come here, wife.” You naturally scoff meanwhile you place the plate of seasonal fruits on the side table and situate yourself closest to the armrest, taking a bite into a juicy red strawberry as you ignore his piercing stare.

⭒ For someone who always gets what he wants, Sylus isn’t used to being defied like this. And had it been anyone else his patience would wear dangerously thin, but he supposes that you’re a special exception because he seems to enjoy the chase and claiming its reward. With one small gesture, he drags you across the couch by a gravitational pull and you squeal when the swirling red easily turn and maneuver you so you’re forced to straddle him and your hands prop on his shoulders for support. “There, much better. Comfy? This is the best seat in the house.” His gaze locks with yours, and he thinks you huffing and frowning at him is simply cute. He firmly grabs your wrist with the bitten strawberry in your hand and lifts it to his mouth for a sweet taste.

⭒ “No fair… using your Evol against me like this.” You grumble under your breath as you gently trail your thumb from his chin to the corner of his mouth where the strawberry juices began to spill. Then an impulsive thought takes over and you pinch his cheek between your fingers, creating a sticky mess on his face. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself. That’s for treating me like a sack of potatoes.” He chuckles once more, his hand falling on your hip and he gives you a light squeeze. “Oh, I do have every intention of fully enjoying my wife tonight.” And by that, he means taking you out for a joyride on his motorbike and feeling your arms wrapped around him tightly as the engine roars through the streets under the night sky and sinking moon. Sylus would never engage in any intimate acts you weren’t ready for, but he loves seeing you fluster at his suggestive remarks.

⭒ As the weeks cross over into months, you never imagined that you’d be spending so much time with Sylus outside of your agreed terms. He’s everywhere in every waking moment of your life even when he’s not there physically. You’re learning new things about him each day and you (begrudgingly) like being around him—even when he can sometimes be a playful bully toward you. When he’s gone for long stretches of time to deal with negotiations and other important matters in the N109 zone, you can feel your heart yearning for him but you’d never say that you miss him out loud when you think he's still toying with you. But with the way he cares for you like you’re both in a real and genuine relationship, it’s hard to know his true intentions and keep your feelings buried deep inside your chest for long.

⭒ You accidentally confirm that Sylus does harbor romantic feelings for you when you carelessly bring up your replacement in a lighthearted joke. You’ve never seen his face falter so quickly at your words as he averts his gaze for a moment to collect himself—a hint of vulnerability in his crimson hues. “I wouldn’t have found a new wife.” He shakes his head and tells you, his voice a little rougher than before. You don’t know what to say, but you manage a soft “No?” that reaches his ears. “No. I wouldn’t have been able to replace you, kitten. You’re it for me. The only one. No one could fill the void you’d leave behind.”

⭒ You and Sylus have kissed before, but this is the first time you’re initiating it. As you brush your lips against his, there’s a softness you never noticed. His hand slips around the small of your back and he pulls you close against him, returning your kiss with the same tenderness as though savoring the taste of you. You lean back after a moment, your palm meeting his cheek in a sweet embrace. “You know, I'm still getting used to the idea that I’ve fallen for you.” You can see him returning back to normal when he offers you a cocky smirk. “And yet here you are. In my arms, with your lips on mine. I think you’re not being entirely honest, my beautiful wife.” Sylus has waited a long time to hear those words from you but you don’t need to know that right now.

[aventurineswife]

A Safe Cocoon

Summary: In the quiet lounge of the Astral Express, you reflect on your inner turmoil and past struggles, feeling disconnected. Sunday, sensing your pain, offers comfort. As he shares his own feelings of being bound by the past, you find solace in his presence. Enveloping you in a protective embrace, silently assuring you that you don’t have to carry your burdens alone.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Comfort, Inner Struggles, Emotional Healing, Gentle Embrace, Connection, Vulnerability.

Warnings: Mentions of Past Trauma, Emotional Vulnerability, Mild Angst, Sunday's back wings are out in this.

You sat in the dim light of the Astral Express’s lounge, your legs tucked beneath you as you leaned against the cool window. Outside, the stars passed in a blur, distant and unreachable. But inside, there was a warmth. A subtle hum of life and motion, a quiet serenity that had become your anchor since joining the crew.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft sound, the familiar flutter of wings. Sunday appeared beside you, his hair catching the light like a fleeting whisper. He was draped in his signature tailcoat, the gold ornaments reflecting the faint glow of the ship’s lights.

"Are you... waiting for something?" His voice was gentle, but there was an underlying curiosity in it. It was typical of him to ask, his perceptive nature always seeming to sense the smallest shift in your energy.

You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Just... thinking."

Sunday’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes gleaming like twin suns. He could always read you, more so than anyone else, and you knew he sensed your turmoil. The weight of your past, the unknowns of your future, and your current struggle to belong—all of it clung to you, a shadow only he could see.

He sat beside you, close enough that his fingers brushed against your back, the soft touch sending a calm shiver down your spine. His presence, though ethereal, was strangely grounding. You found comfort in it, in him. His warmth, his stillness.

"Do you ever feel..." You hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. "Like you're not fully here? Like part of you is still somewhere else?"

Sunday’s eyes softened, and he let out a breath, the halo behind his head flickering like a distant star caught in a breeze. "All the time."

You glanced at him, surprised. For all his composed demeanor, Sunday’s vulnerability was something few had the privilege of witnessing. His voice grew softer, almost a whisper as he continued.

"We live in a world of contradictions, don't we? We dream of peace, of harmony... but we are bound by the pain of the past. Even I cannot escape it."

His words hung in the air between you, their weight not lost on you. You reached out, almost instinctively, brushing the edge of his sleeve with your fingertips.

Sunday turned his gaze toward you, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. His wings shifted, enveloping you in the warmth and softness of his feathers. The gesture was gentle, almost protective, yet there was something in it—a quiet yearning, a subtle longing—that spoke louder than words ever could.

You didn’t resist, nor did you speak. You simply settled into the embrace, feeling the gentle rhythm of his breath as he held you, his body a comforting weight against yours. His wings fluttered softly, the motion almost imperceptible, but it felt like a silent reassurance.

In that moment, there was no need for words. No need for explanations or justifications. It was enough to exist together, to be in the quiet understanding that bound you both. His embrace felt like the safe cocoon you had longed for—a refuge from the storms within, the chaos of past lives and future uncertainties.

"You don't have to carry everything alone," Sunday murmured, his voice warm against your ear. "Not while I'm here."

And for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe it. To let go of the fear, the guilt, the burden. To trust, even if just for a moment, that you didn’t have to be alone in this world, lost in the swirl of past lives and forgotten names.

Sunday held you closer, his presence a gentle reminder that even in the vast expanse of space, you could find a place of warmth. A place of rest.

And for now, that was enough.

[effieotto]

Effie was canonically the most human (games related) person in the entire Capitol, and i don’t think we give her enough credit for that.

When the Quell was announced, the entire Capitol filled with tears. People cried, fainted and shouted so that everyone could see how they felt about the unfairness of it all, while still gathering to bet and cheer for the Games just like they did in any other year. Meanwhile, Effie refused to react at all -in the books, when the prep team had no problem in showing how sad they were for having to watch Katniss and Peeta going back to the Arena, with no real sympathy whatsoever for her as a human being, Effie maintained composed into her professional persona throughout the whole week of preparation, hiding her feelings behind her Escort mask of false cheerfulness and pragmatic detachment. Although she showed up for breakfast with red eyes and a puff face from crying herself to sleep, she always left the room when she felt truly emotional, not enabling anyone the privilege to witness her tears. Unlike the others, her sadness was real. Her feelings were genuine, and she would not allow other people to trivialize her pain by turning it into a dramatic display

In the movies, when Katniss was getting ready for her interview in the backstage, she asked Haymitch if anyone was buying Cashmere’s act, and he pointed to all the other Escorts and Prep teams sobbing in front of the Tv. Effie was also there, but she wasn’t crying. She clapped instead and said “she is really good” -because she knew it was all an act and she wasn’t willing to join the fake tears game

So yeah, Effie might had been a dramatic character from the beginning, wining and complaining about frivolous things while kids were literally being slaughtered, but the feelings she wasn’t fabricating for her Escort persona were powerfully real. She cared, and loved, and grieved with such strength and honesty that she only did it in the privacy of her own heart. She was not a rebel, her actions were not guided by a greater purpose. She wasn’t trying to play with the odds or foment a rebellion…all she ever wanted was for her Victors to get the greatest life they could get. Her actions were motivated by love -pure and genuine care for her children…

and this is the most human thing she could do

[immoralimmortals]

I READ THEM TAGS OFFER EM UP MY LEIGE I NEED MARRIAGE HEADCANONS FOR THE AKATSUKI

(EDIT: this is by far my most popular post! If you like this, I have a longform akatsuki x reader fic pinned on my blog and linked here!)

You water my crops and put the stars in the sky. I'm madly in love with you. I'm bringing this post to your feet much like a cat does their favorite toy. I have caught it. Be proud of me, mother.

Even if it's less about the whole life of being married and more about the actual act of marrying, hope that's ok!

Akatsuki Marriage Headcanons, for real this time:

Pain:

I am a huge proponent of the popular fanon opinion that if this man takes you so seriously as to express a label for it (love, spouse, etc.), he is at the brink of worshiping your feet. Don't get me wrong, in terms of the arrangement of proposal and marriage ceremony, the leader is still in charge; however, he is dictating with every detail painstakingly about you. If there is decor, it is your favorite color. If you expressed you like a certain gemstone, he tracks it down for proposal and gets the finest cut upon your finger. You don't want an actual wedding? No problem, you're just going to come home to several thousand lit candles and a profession of commitment as deep from his heart as a corpse is in the grave.

The idea is that it is necessary for this bond to be formalized, at least for his own sake. Pain would refer to it as something you need to hear. If he is nothing else, he is serious about whatever he experiences emotionally; that goes for both his immense suffering and his most delicate of joys. He declares you his, neigh: commands...but only after you assure him yes.

If a traditional proposal is done, it must be in private. He dares not be too exposed. It's already so much that he has become vulnerable to you.

It is a hard privilege to earn. And so, the Akatsuki leader pays you back in kind. As long as you both shall live, you are his deity. You will never want, not as long as he is allowed to bask in you.

Pain kisses you firmly, one hand on your wrist and one on your back. You are to feel both his presence and his commitment.

A wedding song for you: Take me to Church by Hozier (yes I am a sucker for this song, yes yes and yes) or Ship in a Bottle by fin

Konan:

All at once, her heart aches in the best and worst ways, as it is such a curse of the Akatsuki to have had their loves taken too soon. Up till this point, she has been passive, letting you lead the relationship, but now- despite how much she yearns for the same- the angel stands her ground.

"Why?" you ask her in retaliation. She's thin-lipped as she refuses the real answer. It takes a couple tries over a few, staggered moments in private for the truth to tumble out:

She does not want another person she loves to die because of her. It's irrational; your death is not predetermined by the commitment. And yet it remains. She is scared, and the closer you get the more she stings.

But you have to press closer. You have to assure, promise, fight your way back into her heart as it tries to close you out in self protection. You succeed, thanks to one of the reasons you adore Konan: her capacity to hope, no matter the circumstance. Reminder her of that, and she can only be yours.

The wedding is small, the two of you and whomever you deem precious enough to witness. (I imagine probably not even a full handful). It is twilight and the color of the world is shaded blue. Blue as her hair, blue as she feels whenever you're away, blue in the same way the purest of whites are to the human eye. You are pristine. The paper that folds the bouquets that drape around you are spotless and glow in the moonlight in such a way they're almost lanterns. Their starkly pale and crisply folded nature surround as if it is her prayer that everything that is good may stay that way.

Konan kisses you in such a way that no part of you but your lips touch one another. It is chaste, it is soft, it is a seal.

A wedding song for you: Saturn by Sleeping at Last (I cry every single time I hear this in full. I sincerely think there are few songs that have so viscerally touched me like this one has.) or Soul Meets Body by Death Cab for Cutie

Obito:

You cannot get his single-mindedness off of Rin. There is no way around it, and anything meant as distraction will not only fail but backfire on you. Therefore, if you are this deep into a partnership, you are there not in spite of her but thanks to her. You will be compared and contrasted to no end; this is not cruel, it is merely how he shapes his worldview in regards to goodness and love. You are his second chance. You are his solitude.

You don't get opportunity to propose. He will tell you first.

It is every definition of a ceremony, almost ritualistic, almost like they're crowning a king/queen. The ceilings are tall and decorated with the visage of ancestors and gods. Incense is lit and the setting sun sets the room on fire with orange and red. You are presented to him, ornate in the way he demands. A masked face cannot hide the lust and satisfaction in his voice. His hand reaches out, and you take it. For perhaps the first time, the mask is tilted to hide from their audience while still showing his scarred face to you.

His kiss is hard. Not sloppy, but hard. His hand is on the back of your head, and he going to press you into him until your soul enters his body.

A wedding song for you: Come Along by Cosmo Sheldrake or Sick of Losing Soulmates by dodie

Bad relationship songs because I can't control myself: Anybody Else by Dom Fera (THE song of all time for me, I love it) or Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

Zetsu:

Marriage? That's a fascinating concept. He's never had the desire for this kind of relationship before, but as you talk more and more of it, the more he grasps. In the end, it is a concept that matters to you, and he can appreciate the sentiment of it.

The weirdest part, honestly, is that you reserved such a thing for him.

Though he follows along (you must guide the entire arrangement), he quietly, curiously doubts the whole time. But your guiding hand is so soft as you take him and lead, so nice onto his skin as you select two rings and slide one on each color of hand. You make no mistake: it is both you are marrying. It is both you are committing to. That recognition is his first step into a hesitant acceptance of your eternal love.

When the time comes, you walk him to the first place you met, beside a large tree in a clearing with no human settlement in sight. None of the "don't see the bride/groom" tradition, it has no room here. Any amount of people you want are there, regardless of if it is everyone or no one. (He would prefer no one, but this is all for you, after all). As you're about to kiss him, he makes one request. It is the only thing Zetsu has asked for in all of this time:

Let him taste you.

How can you tell him no?

So his bi-colored lips part, taking your bottom lip into his first, and then rounded teeth gently drag the flesh into his mouth. Pressure is applied and you taste your blood, though fleetingly as he drinks it in. In all the time you've known him, this is the closest Zetsu has ever been to you. In this symbolic action, you have finally gained his full and complete trust.

Zetsu's kiss is metallic but it is not cold. It is pensive, meditative, doing his best to understand that which you crave, and so he does his best to crave you. He cups your face in both of his ringed hands so he need not focus on anything but your taste.

A wedding song for you: & by Tally Hall or Yes to Err is Human, So Don't Be One by Will Wood

Hidan:

At first he's going to make fun of you. He's going to tell you that this is the dumbest idea he's ever heard. And when you go quiet and don't bring it up again, he is going to pin you down and demand to be told why you changed your mind.

This man wants you so much, he can't fathom it. What is marriage if you must slaughter your neighbor? Well...a lover is a step above neighbor, isn't it?

Thank Jashin he doesn't need to kill you to get married.

If you do a traditional wedding, he will drag his feet but he will do it. It's to your detriment alone, really, how obnoxious he'd be. If you pin a flower to his lapel, he'll rip it off. He'll spit to the side in disgust at any mushy gushy talk done in front of others in this bastardization of another religion's ritual. This isn't a real ceremony. Let him show you what a wedding really is:

It's going to end up with your blood on his body and his blood on yours. He makes you straddle his lap, in the middle of the symbol of his lord that he's drawn upon the floor. The same sigil is dangled from a chain, his necklace held between you, from your view right between his intense violet eyes. The metal is cold as it plays a barrier between your lips and his.

Hidan's kiss is reverent. If this Jashinist is marrying you, he fucking means it. Do more than tolerate the cut a knife makes into your palm; pray to it.

...And then he will pray to you.

A wedding song for you: I Wanna Be Your Slave by Maneskin or Misanthrapologist by Will Wood

Bad relationship song I can't help but add: This is Love by Air Traffic Controller

Kakuzu:

Despite popular belief, this is not a man who fusses over money the way Scrooge does over every last coin. By the contrary, it is that he is a man that does not have much to give. This is in every sense, it turns out. Kakuzu is a man that has had all hope in humanity and for himself beat the hell out of him, so it's a shock to him if you hint at a desire for marriage. A mistake, that's what you're trying to make, here. At first he'll rebuff with few words but still sure, but it'll hitch onto him like a tick. A traditional man at heart, you know best to let him propose himself.

And so he does. It is the only time you've ever seen him doubt himself, but of course you tell him yes. As you throw your arms around him, that's when reality hits in the best of ways.

He does not wait, not if you don't oppose him. He takes you to a temple, middle of nowhere with no one either of you or your nations will know. For an old man, it's such a romantic, young man's task to arrange to elope. The priest marries you, as you sit side by side at the break of dawn upon his stoop. He wears his mask, still wears long robes to cover his stitches, but his silky brown hair drifts so beautifully with the wind; he will say this compliment is one he had of you and yours, when he looks back upon today. You are his world, intertwined in an immortal and mortal life.

Kakuzu does not kiss you at the wedding. That comes later, when no one else is there. He pulls down his mask and takes your mouth upon his, tangled until one of you can't breathe anymore.

A wedding song for you: Vanilla Curls by Teddy Hyde or Budapest by George Ezra

Deidara:

A flirt he may be, but a guy of commitment? Hell no. At first he's really flattered, chuckling and letting a large smirk trail up one side of his face. It falls when he realizes you're being serious. "Wait, really?" You nod, and his always-intense stare seems a bit closer to concerned.

"My dear...you're getting carried away, aren't you?" he offers like a second chance to not embarrass yourself.

Everything, as it always has for Deidara, has happened so fast it hits him before he recognizes what it is. Love is included, even and up until the point he's in this deep. Honestly? It terrifies him. He'll laugh and walk away, but it'll fucking haunt him.

A couple days of flying on a bird, all by his lonesome, and he returns with a bit of a different view. Life is short, beauty is fleeting: the opportunity is here and damned if he don't take it. He offers your hand- both in marriage and for a ride- and you soar into the sky.

There's no such thing as a traditional wedding, no need for it when the most beautiful things in the world are you and his art. Explosions and fireworks alike light up the night sky and he leans over to whisper his dedication upon your lips.

Deidara's kiss is, of course, bombastic. It's intense and with tongue and repeats, over and over, never lasting too long as he can't keep his love-drunk words to himself for longer than two seconds. Streamers and confetti flutter around your heads, grander than any parade for any newly wed prince or princess.

A wedding song for you: The Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience or Fear and Delight by The Correspondents

Sasori:

Only someone who knows him as well as you will pick up the subtlest shifts of the scorpion's expression, the way brown eyes barely widen. You bring it up, nearly like a dream you had, nearly like you're talking to yourself in your sleep, but he hears it. Sasori continues with his work, the monotony of woodwork allowing him to chew on the idea. A marriage isn't necessary, of course...but he also will lie to himself about how downright alluring the symbolism of a wedding is.

If the most beautiful things are eternal, why not your love?

If you've gotten him so far that Sasori will consider whatever form of affection he can manage in his barely organic heart, then he will make every second of your life never-ending bliss.

He decorates you, almost like one of his dolls, in the finest patterns of fabric and sleekest of jewelry. He pains over every inch of skin on top of muscle and bone, the way the ring slips on your finger and the way your wrist bends to do it. The ritual is an art piece, and you gaze upon him so marvelously... Your lips part with such slight but sure poise...

The venue is silent and you both are alone. Not even a bird caws, no insect chirps. Pure, clear as glass silence. You are the only two beings in all of existence. You will ascend time itself. A single candle is lit as you sit in the deepest depths of this cave, where no one may interrupt.

Where no one can hear him confess to you.

Sasori's kiss is soft, far too soft. He holds both of your hands so delicately, like they're on a string. Lines of chakra help you move into him in a way that is just right, just utterly perfect.

A wedding song for you: Thumbnail by Louie Zong and Brian David Gilbert or Dark of the Matinee by Franz Ferdinand

Kisame:

Shockingly enough, this guy is going to be your hardest sell. Perhaps predictably, it isn't because he dislikes marriage, settling down, falling in love. Disliking and opposing are very different things.

He panics, at least just a little the first time you mention it. "I'm a shinobi, you know. You won't see me very much." Time passes on, and your desire appears again:

"I'm a rough guy. Just take a second to think about what you're asking for, alright?"

More time, and more desperation on his part with your persistence:

"I am meant to die alone," he finally tells you outright. "Don't bother with me. You could be spending your time so much better than fussing over someone who isn't going to last."

But you do, and he does last. Unfortunately, he does last. It gnaws him to the bone.

"Alright," he'll ask you, a long time since you first expressed your wants, "Are you certain?" You say yes, of course you say yes. Bittersweet, sharp teeth smile. "Very well," the swordsman concedes.

You marry traditionally, though very small. A hood drapes over him, hiding his face as the priest speaks the seal of marriage. His hand clings to yours, so very afraid of losing you. Or worse: making you lose him.

With the formalities out of the way, his own way begins. Finally alone, you both plunge into deep water, a loud splash quickly muting to flooded ears. He holds your face as your hair drifts past him in strands noses nearly touching. Kisame gets a good look at you before he changes everything forever, closing his eyes.

Kisame's kiss is a leap of faith. It tastes like lake water and seaweed and his love. He presses all of you into him like a shell holds a pearl, limbs climbing around you as you suspend in water and sink. Breathe into him, breathe deep. Every last breath in his lungs is just for you.

A wedding song for you: Against the Kitchen Floor by Will Wood or If I'm Being Honest by dodie

Itachi:

The implications of this circumstance are astounding. He loves you- yes, of course he does- but what's more is that he loves you enough to be so selfish as to gift himself to you, even knowing the fate he's reserved. It is both impressive and heartbreaking. Have hope, you ask of him. That is all you ask of him. Give it a chance. It is what he wants, isn't it?

Of course it is. But are you okay if the inevitable comes true?

You pause, and he studies your naive, innocent eyes. But you know more than perhaps Itachi has realized. You know it is okay to treasure. It is okay to enjoy. The journey matters more than the destination. Yes, it is okay, you tell him, you love to love him all the same.

Dark eyes close. Then he will give you what is desired.

Kisame is present, of course, as well as the ancestors of the Uchiha clan in spirit. You are radiant, and he tells you so. You return the compliment in soft earnest. A single hand cups your cheek as he approaches, pausing to feel and taste your breath as it drifts into his mouth.

Itachi's kiss is barely there, like he's afraid of breaking glass. If you want to kiss deeper, you'll need to go in and get it yourself. Just don't mistake delicacy for a lack of interest. This is the most of his body he has ever given in his entire life. Just give him time.

A wedding song for you: Herbal Tea by Velvet Moon or Here For You by Good Co

[okaysonny]

how would the crew heads confess to you? (lookism)

A/N: a follow up post to: how easy is it for the crew heads to crush on you? (lookism)

thanks for all the love on it :) takes place during the current story!

✦ you're blissfully ignorant + their feelings are not reciprocated... (until you're aware of them anyway lol) because i like the #disbelief 👅

1. ELI

eli decides to take a leap of faith. he's not sure what to expect, but he's witnessed warren and sally's situation. he doesn't want his own love life to be a repeat 🫠

now that he's more sure of himself, more sure that he's allowed to feel someone's affections, he wants to know if his aimless pining for you really is aimless.

i think he'd confess to you in hostel's living room 🫡 (where warren + sally kissed) a simple but special place for him. it's where eli spends time with his family, and he wants you to be a part of that too.

he gets a pep talk from warren and sally first ofc! since they ended up together after all that tension, they remind him of their own experiences. warren would defo say something like: take it from me, gangdong's mighty...and romantic.

the gist of their speech is that: it'll be awkward, but better than waiting three years to properly confess. just be honest - if you don't try, you'll never know.

─ and if you get rejected? i'll be here with popcorn.

─ hush warren! don't listen to him eli. you've got this! (sally flashes a thumbs up 👍🏽)

he also gets motivation from amy and natalie <3 (you can do it uncle!)

eli can only smile bashfully. in the end, they're genuinely here supporting him, no matter what happens.

when the time actually comes, they all leave to give him privacy •ᴗ• (but they'd be listening through the door the whole time 😭)

his confession...is very cute and sweet 🥲 he doesn't have jake's guilt or johan's awkwardness, so he actually looks happy to be admitting his feelings, listing off all the things he admires about you.

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eli's daughter is the most important thing in the world - she's changed him for the better. so, seeing yenna so happy with you has made his heart flutter. (didn't mean for that to rhyme lmfaooo)

his feelings for you go beyond romantic attraction. it's also how well you've fit into his life, how it feels like you're meant to be there. bringing someone into his family's world is a big deal for him - but it would make him so happy to have you in it.

not that he doesn't love being a dad - he clearly does! but eli's life has been centered around taking care of yenna, handling hostel's issues, working hard to make ends meet...he's never really thought about who he is outside of that.

with you, eli feels like he can explore life more freely. he feels appreciated - maybe even a little carefree in a way that’s new for him. with you, even though the pressures and responsibilities are still there, he feels lighter. he remembers he has dreams and aspirations like anyone else. for the first time in ages, he feels like he can be just eli.

he hasn't properly liked anyone since heather - and even that's slightly different. this time, he actually knows what he's feeling. and if there's even a slight chance you'd want to be with him, he would do everything he can to make you happy - just as much as you make him.

eli acknowledges that it's a lot to ask, having a child in the picture. still, should that always prevent him from pursuing a relationship? if he gets that privilege, he would only want you. you would give him (and yenna) so much joy.

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eli's words are filled with quiet hope, his cheeks pink as his confessions spill out.

even if you don’t feel the same way, having you in his life, even as a friend, means the world to him. he doesn't want to lose that.

if eli can't be with you, he can live with it, but he doesn't want to wonder if he missed the chance to tell you.

2. JAKE

this man is filled with such angst and anguish 😂🤦🏽‍♀️

BTW - i think by this point, you'll know his job + past actions. you were unnerved when he admitted it...but jake has faced the repercussions (partly). he still has interests and hobbies like everyone else, he's still good company. you can't bring yourself to fully judge him, because you've never been in that position.

jake wasn't going to say anything. it's less messy, less selfish, if he keeps his feelings to himself.

that doesn't stop you from occupying his head though. he can't help but wonder what you're doing. are you safe? are you happy? if not, could he make you happy? ...possibly?

still, he pushes these thoughts away.

it's only when members of big deal notice his spacing out and lapses in concentration that he thinks: okay...i should probably do something.

he'd rather hear your rejection than keep wondering if there's a chance...+ to not have you (unknowingly) interfere with his duties.

first things first though, he needs some advice.

he'd totallyyy go to sinu. i can picture it so clearly 😂 jake is a smooth talker, but he's never actually liked someone. he can't talk his way though this. (he can try, but he'd fail miserably)

sinu would be so chuffed that his (practically) little brother is coming to him for relationship advice. (i never thought i'd see the day...you're all grown up. and he wipes a tear 😭) given jake's lack of interest in dating, he's pleasantly surprised at his change of heart! you must have had a big impact on him.

jake asks if sinu felt guilty liking yeonhui, considering his role in big deal. he was perceived as a gang leader back then...did sinu ever feel like she deserves better than that?

sinu gets nostalgic and starts reminiscing about his relationship 😅 jake zones out halfway through, wondering why he even bothered to ask in the first place.

EVENTUALLY THOUGH, he reels it back in and gets #serious 🙂‍↕️ something like: how long will you let your role and past define you?

the gist of sinu's speech: sure, jake has done bad things. (...worst than most people) but he shouldn't let that hold him back. jake can still try be something better, he's not some heartless monster. there's no harm in being honest, he'll never know what could happen.

jake is gobsmacked... a man of passion indeed.

i think he'd confess to you at the sea side! (where samuel found out who jake's dad was) he'd rather watch the waves than your confused face.

he tells big deal to stay away from that area, because he has important business there. (jake knows they'd be spying from a distance if he didn't 😭)

i think he'd practice in the mirror beforehand...but it does nothing to settle his nerves (-.-)

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jake likes you. he knows it's unexpected and out of the blue, but he has to tell you.

you don't realise how amazing you are, how smart, how caring. it's the little things...helping jerry with his homework (god knows no one else can) or paying for your meals even though it's not necessary - he'll always let you eat for free. + plus the food is lowkey shit anyway <3

...or how well you get along with the girls. (they constantly tell him to ask you out 😪)

he knows he's not worthy. there's people who can easily give you their undivided attention. you deserve only the best...and he's the furthest thing from that. but he wishes he could be.

he doesn't want you to think he's the same person as before. you deserve someone way better than an ex-convict. jake wishes he could change the past - so badly. he regrets not trying harder for a better solution back then, just for the opportunity to take you on a date...to be with you.

jake wants to be the best version of himself. you make him think that being a better person could change some of his past...and eventually make him worthy of someone like you.

and if there's even a sliver of hope you feel the same way, that you'd give him the honour of being his first...everything, he'll do everything in his power to be a boyfriend you can be proud of.

he doesn't need you to say anything, jake would never pressure you for a yes or no. he just needed to say the truth, to be honest with you - and himself.

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jake kim, who's always so sarcastic and sure of himself, is suddenly so nervous and quiet before you. it's a side you've never seen of him.

there's a lot to consider. sometimes you'd never see jake, he'll be in danger a lot, and if he really had to - he'd be ruthless again to protect big deal. he knows that too.

even so, he's pouring his heart out, trying so hard for you...and you don't even think you're that great, to be honest.

you find your cheeks flushing at his words, and the earnest way in which he utters them.

3. JOHAN

johan...i found him hard to write. i don't like this little mouse.

if you like someone, you should probably tell them. johan would rather die. but eventually, not saying anything has gotten more painful than the prospect of confessing.

he hasn't liked anyone since mira and that feels like...a lifetime ago. so, he (very reluctantly) goes to zack for help.

zack would be sooo annoying about it, he'll never let him live it down. johan seong coming to him for dating advice...another indicator that their worlds are healing ❤️ he shuts up though when johan threatens to beat his ass.

i think zack would give the same bs advice he gave to vasco in the blind date arc 😭😭

─ alright...you really wanna know? let me give you a piece of advice i told a certain knuckle head. Be gentle...but fast. Be manly...but kind.

─ wait...have you got together with mira yet?

─ all in good time johan...all in good time. (zack taps his noggin 🧏🏻)

so that was useless.

there is another person he can go to though...mother knows best, as they say 🫡 johan would invite you to have dinner at his place, just a causal meal...obviously 😁

─ so you're johan's friend! it's great to finally meet you. help yourself! (he got his cutie patootie genes from his mom)

johan's mom gives him playful nudges when your back is turned 💘 he silently pleads with her to cut it out.

now that he has his mother's seal of approval, he feels ready to...confess or whatever.

i think johan would confess to you while sitting at the river with eden + miro. (the one where lua pushed him in 💔)

unlike eli and jake, johan's confession isn't planned. he decides to tell you when it feels right. and this place feels right.

he'd be avoiding eye contact the WHOLEEE time 😭 his face would be so red too...a cutie patootie to the max.

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johan starts by talking about the little things, like how his dogs are always happy when they see you. eden and miro get so jumpy and excited when you come over, as if they can sense how much he cares about you. it's something he can speak about easily - they're a big part of his life.

and his mom - johan's mom is so important to him. her approval means a lot…and she definitely approves (of you). she really likes you, especially after that dinner at his house. his mom is his rock in so many ways, the fact that she sees what he sees, means the world to him.

johan hid behind a stoic facade for so long. he's grateful to zack and mira for showing him that having feelings for someone…it can be a beautiful thing. with you, he feels more okay stepping out of that shell. maybe it's the way you always listen when he talks…or how you're there for him without making a big deal out of it…or how you celebrate the small things with him. (aka…barely passing english)

the professions are still foreign to him. it’s not just about liking you, it’s about the vulnerability that comes with it. he’s afraid of how this might change things between you two. but, johan knows hiding it would only make things worse. he can’t keep pretending like nothing’s there. it’s been weighing on him for so long.

still, he’s ready to face that fear of vulnerability, to show you all the sides to him. he’s letting you in — not just with his feelings for you, but with his whole self, all the things he’s kept locked away. for johan, that’s a huge deal.

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the man who united all of gangbuk, who went toe to toe with gun park...is suddenly so shy and awkward right now. truly a rare sight.

he's mumbling almost every sentence and you have to scoot closer to hear him, which definitely doesn't help things.

johan is thankful for eden and miro's barking for once, it fills the silence that passes.

it's not the smoothest confession, but that’s exactly what makes it sweet - he's showing you a bit of his heart by saying nothing and everything at the same time.

4. SAMUEL

he'd confess you're his fav BOOTY CALL maybe!

an actual confession of his: when samuel sees cheap instant noodle packs in the store, he can't help but think of big deal.

If it means I can eat better food later...I don't mind eating here now.

but he's annoyed the lavish food he can buy now doesn't quite fill him up the same way.

✿ who would have you blushing the most?

A/N: first date headcanons next?? 🤷🏽‍♀️ if ppl like this one too

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐈’𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Angst, post-break up, Miguel’s heartbroken, he really shouldn’t be though, sexual frustration, innuendos, soreness from sex, male masturbation, sexual flashbacks MINORS DNI🔞

𝐀/𝐍: Hey, hope you didn’t forget about me🥹 it’s been a while. I saw this fan art of Miggy in the shower after I wrote this and thought it was pretty fitting

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s been over a year since you split up, but unfortunately for Miguel, things are still taking a toll. Even after going your separate ways, you still have to see each other everyday and it was affecting his performance. Meanwhile, your dual life as a loyal lover and as Spider-Woman is putting a lingering strain on your new relationship. The ripple effect of your breakup is coming back to bite you in the ass in the most unexpected way possible.

Things were already hard enough after you and Miguel broke things off. But having to be your boss while not allowing his heartbreak to get in the way of leading a group of Spider People, including yourself, was modifying.

He didn’t realise how much the aftermath affected him until his recruits had noticed his performance was lacking.

His combat skills were becoming sloppy making him prone to more injury. It was frustrating how much he was letting this get to his head— he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

After the third trip to the Spider Medbay, it dawned on him that he had to accept things as they were now and move on. His job as a leader will be at risk otherwise.

Initially, he thought he was doing a decent job ignoring his pain. He was growing used to seeing you everyday without your affection, especially since he was accustomed to being alone before you got together.

But after the latest Spider meeting, Miguel was left with fresh salt on the wound.

As you sat down on your seat before he commenced the meeting, your face scrunched slightly from the ache between your legs.

An obvious sign that you’ve just been dicked down by your current flame recently. No one else in the board room had noticed but he definitely did.

And he hated himself for it.

If the situation were different, where you didn't feel any resentment towards him after he broke your heart, he wouldn’t pay any mind to it.

There was a time where he would’ve felt his ego soar after seeing you struggling to sit down like that — only because he knew it was him and his dick that was the cause of that. But now he was left with bitter pain and yearning.

Back then, he knew he could manhandle you if he wanted to. But he would never do anything that could affect your agility and performance as a crime fighter.

Albeit, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fuck you good enough so you would get drunk from his dick and he got to witness your mind going numb.

But now he had lost that privilege. He couldn’t see your worn out face anymore after he made you come.

The mere notion of another man touching you like that, let alone seeing you in that state, was enough to send him spiraling. Not that he would let you be aware of that.

This new guy wasn’t even aware of your double life as Spiderwoman. He wouldn’t be as cautious and mindful when fucking you like Miguel would.

It was one of the convenient things in your relationship— why you were perfect for each other. Until it wasn’t. He had to force himself to continue like this wasn’t tearing him apart inside.

Eventually the meeting came to a conclusion and everyone made their way to the cafeteria for their lunch break. Miguel, on the other hand, headed back to his office in solitary.

Every muscle in his body felt heavy and it felt like extra labour just to walk back to his office. He didn’t catch you following behind until you called out his name.

“Miguel,” he turned to see you walk up towards him.

As foolish as it was, for a fleeting moment he thought you were going to comfort him; put your hands on his shoulders and give him a massage or peppered his face with kisses when everyone had left, just like you used to.

The fantasy vanished just as quickly as it came when you spoke your mind.

“I think my watch needs calibrating, it’s acting up,” you told him, gesturing to your watch. Of course.

You would only approach him when you need something from him. That was how it had been, he shouldn’t expect anything more.

“Alright pass it over, I’ll give you a day pass in the meantime,” he said as he fished out a day pass for you to wear.

You removed your watch from your hand and passed it to him before taking the wrist band and putting it on.

Once it was secure, you turned your heels to leave. He felt his adrenaline spike as he watched you and out of impulse, he opened his mouth to speak again.

“Hey um,” He started, making you turn back around to look at him. Your eyes bore onto his, something he thought he’d never witness again after you split up. Except this time, there wasn’t any warmth in your gaze as there used to be; instead, there was nothing but a void.

Shit

The room suddenly felt like it was getting hotter. Or maybe that was the heat rushing to his cheeks out of sheer discomfort.

Either way he felt like his inner thoughts were written all over his face and you could read him. You probably could sense something was wrong but you weren’t going to comment on it.

He wouldn’t blame you…

Now you had your full attention on him, even if it was only brief. He had to make sure he played his card right and tread through this carefully.

“How’s everything?” He asked meekly. He tried to keep his composure as controlled as he could, keeping a tight lid on his raw emotions.

“Fine.” The word came out so curt, it didn’t even feel like a proper response.

It hurt his pride knowing another man could make you sore like he can, just the way you like it. On top of that, he was treating you better and was making you happy. Something that he couldn’t do.

You deserved a partner who would be there for you, support you and nurture that mutual love. Not just someone who was good in bed.

Unfortunately he was so drawn into his train of thoughts about your man, his mouth moved faster than his mind before he could even stop himself, initiating a word vomit.

“Is he treating you well,”

Shit shit shit…

Why did he bring him up? Now he probably looked pathetic. He could see you drift your gaze away after he asked that. Obviously the topic was pretty sensitive.

“Mhmm” you hummed in approval. You were clearly not comfortable with sharing more. Judging by how you responded, you had moved on and healed from the pain he had caused you.

He shouldn’t shit on your new man; he never even met the guy (other than watching the surveillance footage of your dimension while monitoring the Multiverse like he always did)

So he had no valid reason to hate on him if everything was going well with you.

And he knew you weren’t going to willingly share about your current relationship. You were a private person and he always valued that while you were both still together.

But now it was working against his favour. Despite being fully aware that your personal life wasn’t any of his business anymore, he was still desperate to know everything.

There was a sense of antipathy that was growing in his heart towards your new life without him in it. No matter how much he would lie to himself and deny it was there, it only heightened as more time passed.

The silence that was shared between the two of you was making it hard to breathe. It felt like all the oxygen in the room wasn’t enough to fill his lungs with the tranquility he needed.

You should get going, don’t want to hold you back any longer than I already have.

Eventually, Miguel gave a subtle nod before shifting his attention to your watch in his hand. He wanted to end the premature conversation before he said something he will regret.

The last thing he heard was your footsteps getting quieter as you left his office, leaving him in his own thoughts.

Miguel felt some of the tension leaving his body, like melted candle wax, as he took the first step into his apartment— his confinement safe space.

But despite being surrounded by the comfortable air in his home, his muscles were still aching. Today was more physically demanding than usual as he was on his feet all day, containing not just one but three anomalies, all in different dimensions.

Fatigue seeped into his bones. But it wasn’t just the physical tasks that drained him. His mind was constantly running with relentless questions, though there was one that struck him the most.

Could he manage to lead the Spider Society without being consumed by his emotional turmoil? More importantly, without being consumed by the reminders of his loss. Gabriella.

You.

It has been a year since you both split up and he’s still unable to break free from the haunting memories of his past. Thinking about your breakup was making him dizzy. The overhead lights in his apartment suddenly felt too bright and sickening.

“Lyla, could you dim the lights please?” He called out before he headed to the bathroom. The lights dimmed just as demanded.

“Lights are dimmed now, Miguel,” Lyla’s digital voice chirped. Miguel’s thoughts remained on you as he made his way towards the shower.

He couldn’t stop himself from recalling the last conversation you both just had back in HQ. It was brief but your reluctant body language was enough to speak volume.

Part of him wanted to know what was going through your head when he asked about your current relationship, even if it was just a slip up. But at the same time, after seeing the way your demeanor shifted when he asked, he would rather stay clueless about it.

He stepped into the shower and twisted the shower knob, adjusting the water to the right temperature. Steam was released into the air from the hot water, creating condensation on the cold tiles.

The hot spray from the shower ran over him as he allowed the water to rinse over his whole body. He sighed as he felt his muscles instantly unwind from the hot water but the warmth also seemed to amplify his solitude.

He rested one of his hands on the glass panel that was fogging up from the steam. The shower continued to spray over his back and his mind continued to wander.

As much as he tried to forget about today, he couldn’t stop thinking back to the Spider meeting from earlier and how you were struggling to sit without the obvious sourness between your legs. Seeing you in that state gave him erotic flashbacks that he didn’t want to recrystallise in his head, especially now.

Suddenly, a memory that he had tried so hard to bury deep in his core resurfaced in his head, blaring at him. The image of you bent over in his shower; your hands and your bare tits being pressed against the same glass panel he had his hands on right now, while he was thrusting you from behind.

He couldn’t shake off the memory no matter how hard he tried. The thoughts continued to run through his head and just like clockwork, he felt himself getting bricked up.

How pathetic. He let his unwanted memories get the best of him and now it was affecting the rest of his body.

His cock was twitching and he could feel the subtle throb of his pulse from the sensitive areas. His free hand reached to clasped around the length with his mind conflicted from his aching predicament.

As much as he knew how bad his situation was right now, he couldn’t stop himself from caving into his own desperation. Out of impulse, he started to stroke at a steady pace with that image of you stuck behind his eyelids.

This was wrong. So wrong. Thinking about you in such an elaborate manner while getting off to it, especially when he was aware that you wanted nothing to do with him anymore. After everything he put you through…

But his head wasn’t thinking about any reasoning or morals anymore. At least no one could see the state he was in right now.

The grip from his hands could never replicate the sensation of your walls clenching around him— along with your wetness that would coat his dick.

He was drawn back to those memories of you in his shower again. You always used to take him so well, especially from behind. He would nuzzle his face into your neck while fucking you relentlessly.

The bathroom would be filled with the sounds of your pretty moans over the spray of the water that would echo over the tiles in the shower.

Each thrust would push you further against the glass panel. Your hands and tits would always be imprinted on the surface by the end of it, and every time he would be reluctant to wipe it away.

He increased the pace of his strokes just from recalling that memory, with his eyes bored onto the panel. His heart was pulsated in his chest as he was losing himself in the bliss of his own fantasies.

The memory of your breakup was now forgotten as he was reliving these memories. It was almost tangible, he could almost hear you moaning out fragments of his name in his mind. But it was probably just his auditory hallucinations.

He longed to feel you again, hearing you say his name just like you used to. Feeling your touch again would scratch the irritable itch that had always lingered. Even if he knew he’d never have you again, he still dreamt about you.

His climax was crawling up to him painstakingly slow. He recalled those moments where you would touch yourself afterwards, just to feel how much he had stuffed you with his cum.

The memory, along with the built up anger and longing, was enough for him to unravel and his orgasm came crashing down on him— it was almost overwhelming.

The evidence of his guilt spilled over his knuckles before getting washed away by the spray of the shower. But it wasn’t enough to erase what he just did.

The post-nut clarity disappeared once he realised what he got himself into and how far he fell into the rabbit hole of his own desires. It felt like every object in the bathroom just witnessed his own sin.

He shut off the water and stepped out of the shower before he wrapped a towel around his waist. Water was dripping from his hair and fell over his bare shoulders and back, but he paid no attention to it.

Everything that had just happened a few moments ago was sinking into him, and although he scrubbed himself clean from his own cum, there was still the unsettling awareness of his own mishap weighing on his shoulders.

It was making his stomach twist with nausea. Shame quickly settled over him, like a cloud hovering over his head. It continued to follow him as he made his way to his bedroom.

Miguel grabbed a set of clean clothes from the dresser and got himself dressed for bed. Even with the unease that was lingering in his head, his routine still felt mechanical and familiar. Nothing else seemed to change.

Once he was dressed, he slipped under the cool covers of his bed, shutting out everything that had happened today.

Part 2

Just lmk if you wanna be tagged

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @miguels-aranita @thealleydog @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @strawberryjuice9 @lazyjellyfish300 @ghost-lantern @what-the-jams @mcmiracles @monarchberrysblog @niyahwhoreworld @keigoloveminty @ewan-tef @ginanet @mrsoharaa @flowerlemonss-blog @shadowarchon @smartyren @famouscattale @stressed-cherry @hrhmimieucliffe @ultravioletrayz @grxnde-dwt @homewreckingwreck @your-antares-universe @crimin4llyins4ne @tojishugetiddies @miguel-ohara-wifey

Now I’m gonna log off for two days bc I don’t want to see ppls immediate reaction to this 😟

Btw, I will be interacting with your fics and reblogging from my second account @lmaoyouwhore (don’t pree the blog too hard, it’s still under construction lol)

Ayrus xoxo

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

this whole episode; i kept thinking of these lines by cameron awkward-rich: 'please—what’s the word for being born of sorrow that isn’t yours? for having a family? for belonging nowhere?'

families can be zones of so much buried violence: whether it's seokryu's 'eomma' and 'appa' projecting their own life experiences onto their innocent daughter; or seung-hyo's mother accepting the same necklace over and over again; because her son is too distant to even realize that he's giving her identical gifts. their relationship is too impersonal for him to even write anything on her card. episode 8 hurt so much — and it hurt because it's real. this is what families are like: swallowed hurts and silent resentments. pain fisted in your hands like a weapon as you fight to be heard — to be wanted as your own self; and not just a vessel for your parents' unfulfilled aspirations. this is the trauma that tons of us carry.

one of the first things they tell you in therapy if you're not an only child is that you and your sibling do NOT grow up with the same parents. both you and your sibling experience entirely different versions of your parents — because the circumstances which they're in differ so greatly during each of your births and subsequent growths — and it can feel so utterly disheartening and unfair.

seokryu is the standard: the model child; the person her parents pinned all their hopes on. as such; she's never allowed to be anything less than perfect. because he's a boy, because he was sick, because he's younger — dongjin is indulged and pandered to and doted upon — even when he's being irresponsible. all her life seokryu has been side-stepping her own needs and wants; just to keep her parents happy — sinking into her own sacrifice until there was nothing left but burn-out and broken dreams. it shattered my heart to hear her mother say she'd rather have seokryu back in the US and married even if she's unhappy there — because that would mean she would get to boast about her daughter and receive gifts from her. that's not love — that's entitlement.

seung-hyo is the only person who truly loves seokryu for seokryu — for who she truly is, flaws and all: and that makes it doubly hard to witness her keeping him at arm's length at the end of the episode. the way he says that the reason he can't be friends with seokryu isn't because she's a woman, it's because she's seokryu — is so simple and profound. he sees all of her and accepts it — loves it. and that is so, so, rare. the act of true witness is sacred — to be seen as you are is a privilege.

(as far as the sickness storyline goes: i'm afraid to say i saw it coming. i wish the writers were more original; but i don't think seokryu will die. still, it doesn't sit well in my mouth. they could have come up with something better for conflict if they really had to.)

[goreandbunnies]

⛧☾༒︎ 𝔇𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 ༒︎☽⛧

Sukuna x Reader, Toji x Reader

Summary ๋࣭ ⭑⚝"Almost six months after meeting him, I had finally managed to escape. At least that's what I thought, hidden in that alley, holding my breath and waiting for the search party to get further away from my spot. But this city was his, he had eyes everywhere. I needed to leave as far away as I could."

Warnings ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Explicit language, sexual explicit scenes, sexual assault, drugs and alcohol, explicit violent scenes, gun violence, emotional and physical manipulation, dub-con, mentions of cults, blood and blood play, knife play.

Word count ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 10.5k (in progress)

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more & @cafekitsune

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1

Six months earlier 1.

The music was blasting through the club’s speakers as our group got inside, my friend Amy leading us all to the VIP booth she had reserved for us.

She had booked half of the fanciest, high end club in town to throw the most indecent bachelorette party humanity had ever witnessed. I didn’t know where to watch - the entire place was either shining or sparkling. Chrome, black and white all over the walls and floors, where the lights reflected on the mass of sweaty bodies dancing around us. The very long and exclusive waiting list to get in made the few people allowed in there feel privileged. Blessed.

“I can’t believe you managed to book that club, Amy,” another friend of ours gasped as she looked around as well.

“Ben is friends with the owner, when we said we wanted to plan both parties here, he offered to book it for us,” Amy replied, filled with pride. I smiled at her.

Amy had been my best friend since high school - she and I were polar opposites but somehow ended up inseparable. She was tiny, blonde, a social bee, always chatting with new people and making friends whereas I liked the quiet and the comfort of my inner circle.

I readjusted the pink “maid of honor” sash on my tight red dress and watched as Ben - the future groom - and his party arrived. They had decided to do a joint party to enjoy the lush club and I knew Amy wanted to keep an eye on Ben to make sure his cavemen friends wouldn’t hire a stripper for him.

“Hey there,” a voice said behind me, hands grazing my arms. I shivered and took a step away.

“Hey,” I gave Brad - Ben’s best friend and best man - a polite smile but took another step away from him just to be sure.

Brad and the rest of the party were in high school with us. We all grew up together. He used to bully me for being too tall, standing out in any girl group, only to hit on me constantly now that we were both adults. Except I had zero interest in the preppy looking guy in the slightest. Whenever he was around me, all I wanted was to run away.

“Looking good tonight, want me to get you something to drink?” He stepped forward to basically scream in my ear over the music. I placed a couple of fingers on his chest and kept him away.

“I’m not drinking anything you bring me,” I smiled again, this time struggling to stay polite.

“After all these years, really?” He laughed, as if it had been a fucking joke to him. “It was one time and you had so much fun,” he said as he sat heavily on the black cushioned seats.

“You fucking roofied me and I almost drowned in the pool at that frat party,” I spat at him angrily.

“Water under the bridge, baby. It’s in the past, you should move on,” he laid his arms out on the back of the seat as Ben and the rest of the guys sat next to him.

Sick of him ruining the night for me, I gave him the middle finger before heading for the VIP section of the bar where Amy was ordering shots for us girls. I dropped on a stool and sighed.

“Lemme guess, Brad?” Amy asked as she collected the shots and placed them on a tray. I nodded.

“I don’t know why Ben is still friends with that asshole,” she shook her blonde head, her curls bouncing around. “I mean everyone knows what he did and no one bats an eye cause his father is loaded,” she rolled her eyes before placing a shot in front of me and taking one for her.

Amy was the one who had driven me to the police station to press charges against Brad. She yelled at each and every officer until one sat down to take my statement. But one flick of Brad’s father's checkbook and the file disappeared into oblivion.

“As long as he doesn’t come near me, I can tolerate his presence,” I said before clinking my glass with hers and downing the shot in one gulp. Amy hummed in pleasure as she looked around before turning back to me.

“Don’t look but there’s a guy who’s totally checking you out over there,” she discreetly nodded over her shoulder. I chuckled.

“How can you tell, maybe he’s checking you out,” I made sure not to look as ordered but curiosity was getting the best of me.

“Cause of this,” she pointed at her plastic tiara with a veil, her short black dress and her “future bride” sash. She turned around again to peek and I followed her gaze to a gigantic, scary looking guy.

That man looked like every single red flag packed into a pile of muscles, bodyguard type, with a burning stare and a vertical scar on the side of his mouth. He seemed to be a couple of years older than us, early thirties, but he had nothing in common with the guys sitting a few feet away. He was violence incarnate and even from afar, standing still, arms crossed over his large chest, I could feel the anger coming off him in waves.

Amy was right, it wasn’t her he was staring at, but me. Quite openly. His stare lingered on me for a while, taking in the length of my bare legs up to the red dress I was wearing, the tattoos on my arms - my damn boobs and eventually, his eyes locked with mine. I raised an eyebrow before returning the favor and eyeing him down.

The black t-shirt he was wearing didn’t leave much room to imagination - his arms were the size of both my legs together and his chest seemed to have been molded in pure iron. When I looked at his lower body, I wasn’t surprised to find that his legs matched his arms - the thickest thighs known to man wrapped in tight black suit pants.

My eyes ran up to his broad shoulders, thick neck then up to his face, eyes dark partially hidden by slick dark hair falling in front of them. He sure did look scary, yet I couldn’t help but think he looked beautiful. The rage that vibrated off him was intoxicating.

Somehow, I got the feeling that he felt out of place, like a fish out of the water down here with the mass of bodies and loud music. The permanent frown on his face was pretty clear - he wasn’t happy to be here and he was not to be fucked with.

“Damn he looks scary,” Amy raised her eyebrows at me before a new song played, causing her to shriek like a banshee. “That’s my song! Let’s get on the dancefloor, where are the girls?”

She took my hand and dragged me away, not before I managed to give the stranger a small smile and for a second, I swore I saw the scarred corner of his lip rise.

Copyright © goreandbunnies, bitchcraft18 2024, all rights reserved, do not repost, use or plagiarize. Do not translate.

Taglist ♥ @sweetlandspos @tojislittleprincesss @paradisestarfishh @unheavenlypacked

[sapphic-agent]

Trios that would have been more compelling and less obnoxious than the "Wonder Trio":

Izuku, Tenya, Ochako: This needs no explanation

Izuku, Tenya, Shouto: Again, this really needs no champion vouching for it. The Stain arc and the subsequent character work that came with it will never be matched by any other arc in MHA.

Izuku, Denki, Yuga: These three all have self-harming quirks that can be really dangerous and inconvenient during a battle. It was truly a lost opportunity to see these three bond over their issues. Making Izuku and Yuga being close friends right off the bat would've have been really beneficial in sowing the traitor plot point early on and would've have also been far more devastating for Izuku during the reveal. And honestly, Yuga being formerly quirkless and having a self-harming quirk is a much better narrative parallel than the "Save to Win and Win to Save" bullshit that we got. Denki and Yuga just seem like they'd have really good chemistry.

Izuku, Tenya, Momo: These 3 intelligent specimens would've have been extremely overpowered if Hori actually cared enough to develop them. Also, Momo would get to shine because her quirk is powerful as hell (I actually head canon that she has the strongest/most versatile quirk in 1A and maybe enough the BNHA verse as a whole) and it's a crime that her intelligence and OP quirk went underutilized. Also, Momo and Izuku helping each other through their lack of self confidence would have been really touching and maybe have Izuku reflect on his life and how he was treated pre OFA. Momo and Tenya also seemed really no nonsense in the beginning when she ruthlessly criticized Bakugou, so this could help Izuku cut Bakugou off much earlier and allow him to grow.

Izuku, Tsuyu, Mineta: Yes I know, I know. Mineta sucks. But even so, these three were super compelling and interesting to watch during the USJ arc. The ways in which they used their quirks to escape death has way more charm and personality in their hair follicles than post season 3 ShoBakuDeku have in their entire bodies. Also, since Tsuyu was one of the first to call Bakugou out, I feel like her bluntness would be a really good reality check for Izuku to realize that the way Bakugou (and Aizawa) treat him is not okay. Also, Mineta already idolizes Izuku (which is actually sort of sweet) so this could have been used to develop his character rather than the awful and repetitive perv shtick that we're unfortunately stuck with.

Izuku, Shoji, Tokoyami: Like with the above trio, their forest camp sequence in trying to escape dark shadow has more personality and authenticity in their hair follicles than anything having to do with the stupid wonder trio. After all, the whole thing started because of Tokoyami witnessing Shoji being harmed by moonfish, which feels really raw and touching. Shoji also carrying Izuku on his back is super cute. These three also could've been used to address quirk-based discrimination, which is basically that backbone of BNHA's premise (even if it is always glossed over). Tokoyami and Shoji would've had to be victims of heteromorph discrimination (I think it was even confirmed in later chapters) which could drawn the three to each other. No offense to Shouto (and full offense of Bakugo) the two of them could never really relate to Izuku's trauma especially since Bakugou is responsible for 85% of it. They're both rich, they were both born with extremely powerful quirks. While Shouto is tragic because he was abused, he also benefits from the system of powerful quirks being favored which makes the two of them privileged. I also feel like Shoji and Tokoyami finding out about OFA and Izuku's previous quirklessness would just strengthen their bond and would motivate them to help and protect Izuku in any way they can unlike Bakugou who was a total nuisance the entire time.

Izuku, Mei, Ochako: Again, like with the last two, their admittedly limited time on screen together has more charm and personality than the stupid Wonder Trio.

These are the ones that I could think of from the top of my head. Feel free to add anymore.

These are all so cool! I especially liked Izuku, Denki, and Yuga. I always thought Izuku and Denki should have had more interactions anyway. And of course I love Izuku's scenes with Yuga. This is definitely a more unique one.

I would add Izuku, Momo, and Shoto to the list because I love the thought of Izuku being super intimidated by them only to be like, "Oh, oh no they're just isolated rich kids who have never talked to another kid their age and they're mine now" and adopts them.

Also, Izuku, Fumikage, and Shoto. I feel like they're fun.

It's not an Izuku trio but I'd also love Ochako, Tsu, and Momo just because they're best girls

[le-trash-prince]

Kenta & Pete pt 2

From the very beginning of their relationship, Pete used his status to establish himself as Kenta's protector. This is not uncommon for people living with an abuser, and this is something that really strikes me as a key part of Pete's character. He uses his privilege to help people.

When Babe left Tony's house, he did so after finding out that Tony had been the reason behind Babe's family falling apart, that Tony was a saboteur rather than the benefactor he posed as. Babe didn't learn about the other children being sold until Charlie told him about it.

But Pete finds out while he is still living under Tony's roof, and that is what prompts him to leave. He doesn't confront Tony about it, he simply leaves. Because this is something that he can't just stand by and watch happen. This goes beyond shielding someone from punishment. His status as an enigma won't help, it won't end the cycle, so he leaves. And as we know, he spends the rest of his life building up the power he needs to put a stop to these children being sold off.

But Kenta, who must know Pete so well at this point, sees it coming and tries to stop him. For Kenta, Tony's house is his entire world. Tony is the one who gave him life.

He wasn't even allowed outside without permission. He doesn't have any privileges, he's there as a mere accessory to the needs of others.

He's been conditioned to believe that he owes everything to Tony. He is part of this house, and this is where he feels he belongs.

But if Pete leaves, he takes the only good thing in Kenta's life.

What goes unsaid is that rather than Tony being hurt by Pete’s actions, it’s Kenta who will be hurt if Pete leaves.

I don't know yet whether or not Pete reciprocated Kenta's feelings, but I do think that the kiss is told from Kenta's perspective, and I think Kenta took Pete's silence as rejection. So when Pete leaves, he appeals to their brotherly bond instead. We will no longer be phi and nong.

And in Kenta's eyes, it wasn't enough. He wasn't enough for Pete to stay. Pete left to save the others, when he had promised to protect Kenta.

And how much abuse has Kenta suffered since Pete left? To him, he was abandoned and betrayed.

But for Pete, he wanted Kenta to make a decision for himself. Kenta views himself as a tool, an accessory. Objects don't make decisions.

But Pete views him as a friend, as a good person. Kenta is not the object that Tony treats him as. He has wants and desires, he has feelings, and Pete wants Kenta to understand that.

Kenta wanted Pete to stay, and Pete wanted Kenta to leave, and it is tragedy that neither of these things happened. This is yet another example of broken family that Pit Babe has given us.

Kenta thinks it is too late for him to change, even if he is constantly being torn apart by the things he feels he must do, and by the abuse he continues to endure.

But Pete thinks it is never too late for someone to change. He still hasn't given up on Kenta, and how that must burn—to have someone believe in you when you have never believed in yourself.

Kenta has spent years repressing his reactions to everything that he has endured and witnessed and taken part in. He is putting everything into convincing himself that he doesn't care, that he can even kill his childhood love as long as it is for the one person who has given him purpose.

But he does care, he cares so much, and he is closer to his breaking point than we've ever seen him before.

pt 1

[hisui-dreamer]

a letter never meant to be delivered

Characters: Riddle, Azul, Jade, Rook, Malleus, Sebek, Lilia

Synopsis: you find a letter left on his desk, and find his feelings for you have overflowed onto it

Tags: love letter, pining, period drama coded, regency-esque language, confessions, bot proofread

Word count: 393

Notes: pick your fav twst boi from above when you read this haha

i just rewatched pride and prejudice and emma so the period drama language has been infused into me haha

Masterlist

To my dearest and most esteemed prefect,

It may come as a surprise for you to receive this letter from me, yet, in this moment, I can think of no better way to express my innermost sentiments. Regardless of your response, I desire nothing more than to remain by your side, even if only as a friend.

I have fallen irrevocably, with profound ardour, for every facet of your being. Each passing moment, without exception, is adorned with the indelible presence of your image in my thoughts. Your essence lingers, casting an enchanting spell that intensifies my longing to be in your presence. This yearning within me knows no respite, ceaselessly expanding like a relentless flame, consuming my every waking thought and weaving its way into the fabric of my dreams.

I have attempted to restrain these sentiments, attempting to confine them within the chambers of my heart. Alas, their potency has surpassed all expectations. It is incredibly foolish and juvenile, I admit, but I cannot help but succumb to envy as I witness your interactions with others, fervently wishing to be the recipient of your attention. I long to be the one who witnesses your most radiant smiles, the one you rely on during your darkest hours, and the one who lingers in your thoughts when you smile so lovingly.

Yet, I must confess that this affection, while bringing me moments of incredible joy, has also become the source of my deepest torment. The perplexity of our relationship and the ambiguity of your feelings continue to elude me, and perhaps foolishly, I wish to put an end to this.

If it is that you do not reciprocate my feelings, then please speak it once and I will never mention my affections again and no longer infringe on our friendship. But, if you do find them my feelings so imposing as I fear, then please take care and I shall distance myself from now on. And I sincerely apologize that I may no longer be considered as your friend.

And if, by some stroke of fate, you harbour affections for me as I do for you, then I beg of you to hasten to my side without delay. Allow me the privilege of holding you close, that I may envelop you in the embrace of my ardent affection.

Signed,

Your most ardent admirer

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 74: Fitz's Metronome

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, body control, emotional abuse, torture, captivity, hypnosis

September 1905

With a cold, stiff hand resting just on top of his head, Fitz was marched out of the dank basement like a marionette. He couldn't even find relief from being done with Lex's torture -- for now, at least -- because he was drowning in terror at his own fate, wondering if he'd ever control his own body again.

The Maestro had carried the weak lantern with him, so that Fitz could see a bit of the manor surrounding him. The oppressive patterns of the wallpaper, the dark wood door frames with their yawning openings, the intricately carved wooden furniture, all of it seemed to swallow what little light there was. The main floor of the manor was less obviously a prison than the basement where Lex had been chained, but it was a prison nonetheless.

Was this where he'd spend the rest of his days, in the dark, cold gloom? Would he die here?

His new master led Fitz into a room which seemed slightly more welcoming than the others. It was a music room, and what he could see was filled with antique instruments in perfect condition. Polished horns sat in neat brackets on the walls, violins and other stringed instruments rested in their stands, and an antique piano occupied the center of the room.

Fitz's body came to a stop in the middle of the room, standing as still as a statue, with Fitz hardly even able to blink. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Maestro pull a measuring tape from his pocket. He measured the circumference of Fitz's chest and stomach, the lengths of his legs and arms, the length and width of his feet, and more, while Fitz's automatically body shifted to accommodate the measurements.

It reminded Fitz of the last time he'd been measured so thoroughly, that night in the auction house where he'd first met Lex. He'd been scared out of hits wits then, too, but he'd also had hope, hope that his charm and charisma and ability to look great in a red velvet ballgown would earn him a permissive master. Fitz couldn't muster up any such hope now. There would be no softening of Lex's sire, no manipulation to earn privileges, not when he wasn't even allowed to speak.

The Maestro sat down at a nearby desk, leaving Fitz standing stiff as a board in the middle of the room. He dipped a pen in ink and wrote out a note, then rang a small brass bell. A moment later, a tired-looking older man in a modest black suit appeared at the door.

"Fetch clothes appropriate for these measurements. I have another new thrall this evening."

His eyes flicked over to Fitz very, very briefly. "Yes, sir," he said, exiting the room as swiftly as he appeared.

Another new thrall? Fitz wondered how many he had. But he didn't have much time to wonder, because the Maestro stood before Fitz again, running an icy hand below his chin and tilting his head up to meet his eyes.

His eyes were as deep as the ocean and as dark as a moonless night, and Fitz couldn't look away from them, even as he felt their pull. He was being enthralled. His new master wasn't simply content with controlling every movement of Fitz's body. He was trying to control Fitz's mind too. Fitz could feel himself scrabbling for purchase, trying to keep his grip on his thoughts even as they began to slip from his grasp.

"That's it, child," he said in that dreadfully melodic voice. "You will look deeply into my eyes, and you will lose yourself. Your mind, your body, and your will are all mine, to do with as I must."

He slipped. He was falling, falling, falling down a pitch-black well that seemed to go on for miles and miles. His thoughts began to empty as he sank further into a daze, unable to resist the thick blanket of control that was smothering him.

"Fitzwilliam de Hastings. Third son of the de Hastings family and an abject disappointment in every conceivable way. Am I correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Despite that unfortunate history, you may be excellent raw material." A porcelain thumb stroked Fitz's cheek just below his eye. "Your parents didn't have the strength, the knowledge, or the time to mold you into anything better than this pathetic creature, did they? Despite having little understanding of humans, I can be certain that they did not love nor care for you. If they had cared for you, they wouldn't have left your talents and better qualities to rot and spoil."

Fitz was sinking so deeply under his spell that he couldn't muster even an internal denial to any of this. No, his parents most certainly didn't care for him. They probably thought it was just as well that Fitz was gone, if they even gave it any thought.. His heart ached with the jealousy he'd felt each time his father praised his golden older brother, praise that Fitz would never hear himself.

"If someone had cared about you, they would have corrected your personality."

No, that wasn't right, couldn't have been right. Correcting Fitz was all his father ever did, and he knew that his father hadn't cared about him, would've just as soon not had a useless third son.

"Make no mistake, child, I certainly don't care for you either. I would be incapable of such a thing, even if you did deserve such tender treatment," said the Maestro, pulling Fitz in slightly closer. "I don't care for you, but I have time. All the time in the world, and some dim flicker of curiosity. Curiosity to see if I can mold something like you into something perfect. That is why I am prepared to do you a great mercy."

"Mercy…" Fitz's voice came out as a pleading whine.

"Yes, a mercy. I will be the one to correct your vile personality. Despite your deficiencies, I think you understand that it has brought you nothing but suffering. A lifetime of poor choices and waste."

Fitz wanted to deny it, but it was his choices that brought him here, wasn't it? If he hadn't pursued the stage, if he hadn't taken Miss Lily's bet, if he hadn't charmed Lex…

His master suddenly broke his gaze and released Fitz, who was still falling, lost in his spell. The servant from earlier had arrived silently, and handed the Maestro a set of neatly folded clothes with a deep bow. The Maestro looked over the clothes and nodded at the servant, who exited the room with an unnaturally rhythmic gait.

Fitz knew that would be him, a puppet on strings, fit only to serve, and the cruel voice in his head whispered that maybe it was all he was good for.

The Maestro turned back to Fitz and began unbuttoning his shirt, one button after the next. His chest was exposed to the cold, damp air of the manor, but under his master's power, he could hardly even shiver. There was nothing he could do to resist as one leg lifted, and then the other, allowing the Maestro to remove his shoes and socks, followed by his pants.

As his clothing was removed and set aside, Fitz was reminded that he was wearing his stage magician's costume. He'd had a performance just earlier tonight, his last. It already seemed like ages had passed since them.

And then he was standing utterly nude before his new master, body fully controlled and mind ensorcelled, with no protection and nowhere to hide.

Fortunately, the Maestro didn't seem to care for Fitz's nude body. He wasted no time dressing Fitz in the clothing the servant had brought. The drab suit was scratchy and uncomfortable, and it was such a small thing, but Fitz couldn't help but despair at it. A lifetime in uncomfortable, stuffy clothes.

Once Fitz was dressed, the Maestro examined him this way and that, pinching at the cloth here and drawing it upwards there. "This will require some tailoring, but that can be handled later. It's an improvement for now." He tossed Fitz's old clothes to the side like rags and rang the bell once more. The servant arrived to collect them, and then the only possessions Fitz had left were gone.

The Maestro gestured to the piano, and Fitz's body moved to sit on the bench. He was going to have to play, and Fitz already knew his meager skills and repertoire of popular ragtime tunes wouldn't satisfy his master. There was a metronome with a shining brass arm sitting on the top of the piano, a surprisingly modern touch.

His master reached past Fitz's shoulder and started the metronome in a slow rhythm, and Fitz couldn't help but watch it and listen to its tock-tock-tock. His fogged mind wondered when the Maestro would make him start playing, but as the minutes dragged on, he realized that he wasn't going to play. No, all he could do was sit there and watch the metronome.

Almost experimentally, he tried to turn his eyes away, and found that he could not. His master had taken hold of his very eyes, keeping them glued tightly to the metronome's arm. Now he was aware of the way his eyes were being forced to follow, and he couldn't help but try to resist it, with a spike of panic. Resisting it was like walking through a wall, or struggling against thick chains, and it only made his pupils jitter strangely, the metronome's arm going briefly out of focus.

"You will allow the rhythm to enter your head," said the melodic voice near his ear. "You will allow it to govern your thoughts, your movements. You will allow your own thoughts to fade."

Fitz could feel it, the way his thoughts were slowing and swirling in time with the metronome, the way his emotions were growing dim. He dug in, determined to stubbornly fight it as long as possible. Even if it was futile, he didn't want to go out easily.

"Everything you are, everything that is not me will fade away. You cannot fight this. You will not fight this. You are weak and you know that you will slip."

He tried to pull whatever happy memories he had from the recesses of his mind, one last moment of fun before the doom. Taking his bows to raucous applause. Laughing and drinking with fellow actors after a show. Bluffing his way to a poker jackpot.

"The only sound in your head is the rhythm. The only thoughts in your mind are mine."

tock - tock - tock

Dancing in the music room with Lex. Lex holding him while he fell asleep. The night he'd finally got up the courage to kiss him.

"The only desire left to you is servitude. You will submit."

No --

"You will submit. Blank. Empty. A doll on which to impose my will."

Lex wouldn't want him this way. Lex wanted him just the way he was.

But…

As Fitz was kissing Lex in his mind's eye, he saw that handsome face with a silver knife jammed into the eye, dark blood dripping from the wound in a rhythm like

tock - tock - tock

Fitz knew he wasn't worth it. Fitz could never have been worth all of that.

tock - tock - tock

"You will feel relief as you are washed clean. It is the only relief you will have for some time, so I suggest you savor it."

His mind swirled with the images of Lex's tormented body lying motionless on the basement floor.

tock - tock - tock

Relief. Yes, he wanted relief. He didn't want to see that any more.

"No more thoughts. No more wants. No more needs. No more distractions or decisions. You are my doll to pose, to mold, to break. My empty vessel. You are better this way. Far, far better."

One more memory flashed into Fitz's rapidly fading mind. His father looming over him, so tall and so stern, and all Fitz wanted was to please him, but he never did. He grabbed Fitz's arm too tight. It hurt, and Fitz bit back tears. "Why can't you just do as you're told?"

He wanted to. He wanted to just do what he was told so badly, but he couldn't.

"Yes, Fitzwilliam," said his master. "You will never again have to despair at not doing what you're told. I will make you do what you are told, always. I will make you perfect."

Tears were dripping down his chin in the same rhythm as the metronome. "Thank you, sir."

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Next week, Vivian is on Alexander's trail.

Thanks so much for reading this story. The feedback I get always brightens my days.

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@whump-me-harder @whump-till-ya-jump @the-monarch-whumperfly

[istoleyoursk1n]

I'm obsessed with Spider-Man so bare with me here.

Imagine the reader being a human who experiments with potions and genetics, sort of like a magic user scientist. And one day they had an accident that fused them with Spider DNA, so they have the web crawling stickiness, the advanced healing and strength, and biological web shooters like Raimi Spidey, all the Spider-Man abilities. They can't replicate the experiment, so they can't find a cure and are sort of stuck all spidery.

Whether or not the companions knew the reader, and which companions you wanna write for, before the experiment I guess is up to you? Whichever would be easier is whatever I'm okay with!

This sounds dumb- 😭 but it's perfectly alr if you don't want to do this!

- 💞 anon

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a Tav with spider-like abilities?

(Hello again 💞 anon <3)

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: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Didn’t think our lovely little entourage would have an itsy bitsy spider crawling about. I’d rather not find myself webbed if we’re truly keeping you.”

He would have mixed feelings about your little situation at first. On one hand, he finds it fascinating that you possess such abilities but the other part of him finds it disgusting.

Even so, he ends up liking your spiderness anyway, there's amusement he can find in this form of yours that’ll allow him to disregard his disgust for now.

Was probably startled when he first saw you crawling across walls and ceilings. (He screamed and scolded you to cover up the fact that he nearly had a heart attack.)

He may or may not be slightly envious of the fact that you can so easily string your way across surface-to-surface without so much as breaking a sweat.

Though he would be lying if he didn't find it all the more impressive to witness. It's not every day he comes across a web shooting, ceiling crawling, possibly venomous aquantince.

Speaking of venomous, are you? If so, he'd rather never feel the sting of your bite. He’d prefer being the only one who gets the biting privileges.

Nevertheless, he’s grown to adore his spidery friend, especially when he watches you weave little cobwebs into various shapes and pictures. It's his favorite thing about your form.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“A… spider? Spider-human? Apologies, I’m not quite sure what you are but the pleasure is all mine. Perhaps having a rather insectoid companion of our own wouldn’t prove to be such a bad thing.”

He was definitely conflicted at first. He was somewhat of a monster slayer so did you count as one?

But then again, he was traveling with a vampire so perhaps his blade would remain sheathed and away from you for now. Besides, you prove no moral nor physical threat to him just yet.

He managed to put his own apprehensions aside in favor of learning all about you and the various abilities you possess.

He ended up getting all giddy upon seeing you demonstrate all your different abilities. It was amazing in his eyes, something he'd never quite seen before and it made him all the more compelled to befriend you properly.

You've probably been one of the few things that placed his initial beliefs about monster-like individuals aside. Not all of them are as bad as he thought now that he’s seen you.

And ever since his hellish transformation, it seems both of you have gotten yourself in some unfortunate transmutational accident. It's comforting to know that at least you understand what he's going through.

He loves fighting alongside you! Getting to see your powers put to use is an incredible sight. He feels honored to be doing so.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“Glad to see I’m not too only one who may have dabbled in the wrong types of magic mishaps. Though, I’m sure being a tad bit more… spidery, than most has its own interesting perks.”

The most interested and confused of the bunch.

He’s off questioning how these spider-like abilities and if some sort of magic was involved in the process.

What potions did you mix together? Did you use a scroll? Perhaps you consumed something that caused the l transformation? Do you need it reversed? These are probably but a handful of questions he immediately voices out.

He truly does hope the entire transformation didn't hurt as much as suspected it would. That would be quite unfortunate wouldn't it?

Nevertheless, everything about your abilities is absolutely fascinating to him. Perhaps having a spidery companion could be quite intimidating but it does have its pros.

Both of you spin weaves in your own ways so there's that adorable little detail.

Though he has tried helping you reverse the effects of your situation, nothing he’s tried has done anything to get you back to normal. He was a little bit upset over the fact that he may have disappointed you but a little reassurance from you would put him back together.

Even so, he's already grown quite fond of your spidery self, and as long as you’re okay with it, he’d continue to adore it for days to come.

: ̗̀➛ KARLACH

“Fuck yeah! A goddman half spider?! Just when I thought this group couldn't be any less cooler. Say, how's it like being all spidery?”

Freaked the fuck out (lovingly) when she first saw your abilities. You’re the coolest thing she's seen in a while and she can't help but be utterly amazed by you.

You can climb walls too?! Heck, she’d kill to have an ability like that. She loves watching you scurry around walls and roofs like it's no big deal, she even tried to catch you at some point like a little game.

There are so many things about you she's currently fawning over that it's almost overwhelming. She’d be jumping about in delight the moment you use your web shooters to easily latch onto a nearby tree.

You two have probably gone around chasing one another for fun with the use of your own special powers, it's turned into some sort of playful little distraction when the journey gets too rough.

And to think your spidery strength nearly matches her own? You’re practically perfect in her eyes, a companion she's only dreamed of having.

She's spent lots of time wistfully staring as you weave tiny little webs for your own amusement, even making one in the shape of a star to impress your fiery friend. She loves it all the same.

: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART

“Well, I suppose I was never against having a spider join our strange little group. I’ll let you know if I ever need you to clamber onto a wall or two.”

As long as you use such spidery powers for the betterment of the group then she has zero qualms about you.

There's something rather amusing about watching you crawl across walls and whatnot, a strange ability she hasn't quite seen anyone but you possess.

Would remind you that there's zero shame in having powers such as yours, she’ll be the one to reassure you that you’re unique in your own interesting little way.

As long as the venom you have in your system is used against your foes, she isn't all too intimidated by your presence.

Generally only has neutral feelings about this strange form of yours, she’d even find some of your little spidery aspects adorable in her eyes.

There have been occasions when seeing you startle a friend or foe with your crawling abilities made her giggle but she has never once shamed you for it.

She could spend hours simply watching you weave tiny little webs, she encourages you to decorate the camp with them if the others don't mind the extra cobwebs of course.

: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL

“Chk, spider or not, just make sure your insectoid abilities are put to something more useful than weaving fragile little webs lest you find yourself being yet another pest.”

She didn't care much for your abilities, as long as they proved to be useful to her which fortunately they were.

Your little alchemical mistake seemed to prove to be advantageous in the long run as you were able to help her in a handful of battles.

Your web strings proved to be a resource for her (somehow she found a way to innovate such a thing) as she would often use them as a better bowstring.

Soon enough, her disregard for you turned into admiration, one that she didn't hesitate to tell you directly.

Though her admiration was a tad bit bold, it was something you were certainly flattered by. At least she isn't as unknowingly offensive as before.

If you were willing enough to lend your assistance, she would have used your venom as a coating for her blades by now. Using such a deadly substance to easily smite her foes.

Your increase in strength rivals her own, one that sparks a vibrant flame in her roughened heart. She favors the moments when she gets to witness you in the midst of combat.

Safe to say she enjoys your company and values your worth. Don't ever feel shame for possessing such a spidery form because it's certainly something she’s fond of.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“A spider? Well isn't that quite the surprise? Of all the tiny spiders I've encountered, I’ve never quite seen one as undeniably remarkable as you.”

No matter the creature, he’d always come to value them, and that includes you!

You’ll never feel ashamed of yourself against with this man constantly praising you for what you are, spider-like abilities and all.

If you ever decide to use your powers to crawl atop him, he’d adore it. In fact, he’d laugh as you do so in the softest chuckle you've ever heard him let out. He’d allow you to stay there for as long as you please, he truly doesn't mind.

Seeing you so easily get from tree to tree is quite an impressive sight, silvanus knows he isn't quite as nimble or as graceful as you. This only gives him more of a reason to admire you more.

Was smitten the moment you showed him how you weave webs.

While he has seen little spiders do so, seeing you turn ordinary cobwebs into beautiful shapes melted his heart.

Show him a web you've made in the shape of a bear and you’d make his entire day. His only wish is for this little web of yours to forever be preserved for years to come. He simply can't get over how adorable it is.

In truth, you are a magnificent creature in his eyes, one he finds himself fawning over from afar. Words couldn't express how special you are to him.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

[tadpolesonalgae]

To Old Gods

Tamlin x reader

synopsis: you spend a clear, spring night under the pale moon with the High Lord of Spring, only you had not understood the intimacy he was inviting you to join him in, under a night where the veil thins, and things become slightly other

a/n: I realised as a writer, I am technically able to put my own spin on each character. I hope you enjoy this peaceful night journey, and would recommend reading this somewhere you can see the moon :)

Day 1 for @tamlinweek : Heir of Spring

music: Tamlin, by Faun

word count: 1k~

This is the High Lord of Spring you respect and worship—the one who leads the rituals and pays his dues to the old magic.

How he walks silently through the grassy fields, the blades allowed to grow tall and wild so they whisper against his legs as he walks bare-footed along the trail. With small twigs and wild berries woven throughout his regal hair, swaying free in the fresh spring breeze, he resembles a disciple of the old priestesses. Clothed in a thin pale robe, the dark marking are stark against his skin—soot-like dust clouding the rims of his eyes, streaking in three lines outward like scars, and as sharply drawn as talons. One set up over his brows, streaking back into the pale gold of his hair; the second set dripping a tear’s path over the sharp high of his cheekbones disappearing just above the point of his ears around his temples; the third pair cutting straight down from his dark emerald eyes, flowing down over the harsh cut of his jaw, over the strength of his neck, down to the tangle of swirls and symbols that branch across his partially bare chest.

Beneath the moonlight, solemn and stern, you can’t help the comparison that springs to mind—with how the gods were drawn long ago, etched on parchment, or carved into stone. Those same marking that are so frequently forgotten, a tradition sacred to the Spring Court, that the rest of Prythian, even fae-kind as a whole, seem to have either forgotten or discarded. But not here. Here, those carvings are remembered and preserved, worshipped and awed over.

It’s precious, an experience you treasure, being allowed the honour of watching over such a private ceremony. To be permitted near him on this night when he honours his past fathers, the bloodline that stretches and twines like a new stream that has yet to forge its own straight lines through the earth, so meanders and ambles.

How the moonlight spills across his robes, shining over the pale gold of his hair—sacred and holy. Beneath the silver light, you can make out the triskelion that’s been marked on his chest, partially concealed beneath the robes that have been arranged over his broad shoulders. The interlocking spirals stand out clearly, the familiar marking easy to recognise. Earth, water, and sky. Birth, life, and death. The patient cycle of life as it repeats quietly, relentlessly. Repeating persistently yet ever-evolving.

A star falls across the sky, and his green-gold eyes follow its path, attention unfaltering despite the will-o-wisps that glow and bumble about in the field, casting pale blue light about the place as they bob and swirl with the breeze. There are few clouds in the sky this night, meaning their distinct, calming glow is enhanced by the moonlight, practically shimmering beneath its cool-toned light.

He turns in the field, a slow shift of his torso as his gaze finds you effortlessly, features patient and somber, and you move as softly as you can manage, unaccustomed to being barefoot. Aware of the earth beneath your feet, how surprisingly bouncy it feels, like freshly tilled soil that sinks as you step upon it. You wade through the grass, pausing at his side as to not overstep—it is a privilege to even be witnessing this moment, let alone to be invited so close.

Initially you hadn’t understood the importance of the night. Had understood its significance, the value of paying respect to those who had come before, recognising he owed much to his fathers—but had failed to consider the personal ramifications of undergoing the ceremony. What it means, for him—he, who should never have become High Lord in the first place. To stand in the open fields and welcome the past spirits closer, the veil thinning between here and elsewhere. What that could mean for a person who has lost his family, to have this one night where they might once more be together, united on one plane.

Tamlin’s gold flecked eyes are quiet but clear, sharp and as aware as ever, refusing to cower from the night, insisting on being fully present to honour his line.

His gaze locks with yours, and in this brief moment they seem almost ancient, carrying a weight he’s never allowed you to see before. Perhaps one even he’s unaware of carrying, simply having taken over from his father without examining what was being passed onto him. The kind of burden he would be forced to hold upon his back. It’s gone as swiftly as it appeared, his expression patient but solemn as he watches you with an acute understanding that has the hairs on your forearms rising. Feeling bare in a way no amount of clothing could aid with, like he’s somehow able to look directly within you, to scoop up pure starlight from the pool of your soul.

He makes no effort to speak, and you have no inclination to disrupt the peace, so join him in his silence, sharing the whisper of the breeze between you, the swish of grass and the far off snap of twigs as they break beneath soft paws. Tamlin’s gaze returns back to the sky, and the will-o-wisps dance closer, near enough to cast light upon your own robes. Quiet and together, the two of you stand, side by side as you share in the sacred moment. Looking up into the bright, night sky, lit by shimmering starlight, swirling and wonderfully complex. Even in the darkest hours, it’s surprising how bright the world is.

Your heart falters a little when his broad palm extends toward you, and you find deep emerald eyes once again peering down at you, far older than the male before you. There’s a sincerity in the gold flecks of his gaze that has your mind quietening, understanding the request for company on a night as long and as tiring as this. Not tiring in the sense of physical exertion, but in the kind that sleeping poorly despite having rested for so long brings. In the kind of restless strain that grief offers, heavy and mournful, yet enlivened by the rebirth of Spring. A relentless awareness that persists tirelessly, but that has been put into a creature that requires sleep and recuperation to recover and continue.

Your fingers slide over the surprisingly rough skin of his hands, settling in his palm as you’re brought closer, stood directly beside him, beneath this long night.

A night of mourning, and longing. A night for wishes to be made, and relations to be resolved.

A night for past worries to be released, and new beginnings to take root.

A night for rebirth, the kind only Spring can offer.

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Bad Writing Can Make A Privileged Character Unintentionally Unlikable Or Likable

Although my opinion won't be popular on this site, I don't think being privileged prevents you from being sympathetic or having a hard life (specifically when it comes to abuse). However, I do think it comes down to how the narrative executes and treats said privileged character. This can be shown in Velma's interpretation of Fred and Stolas from Helluva Boss. The former is an example of trying to make this guy a privileged, rich white boy who who are supposed to hate for getting everything in life handed to him just like Velma (blah). While with Stolas, who are supposed to sympathize with him despite being rich he has a bad home life with his wife, father was distant from him, and trapped in an arranged marriage.

However, it's funny enough I have seen more people feel sorry for Fred than Stolas as time goes on. The reason is despite his rich background his parents really are the worst compared to Paimon who was at worst a neglectful parent while his parents are control freaks who belittle him for being babyish and later his mother even planned to kill him to swap brains just because she believed he would ruin everything she built. The show also goes out of it's way to shit on him and make him the butt of many jokes as a way to do lame "white people" suck. Seriously, despite his supposed privilege he takes a lot of damage in the show: being falsely accused of murder, body shamed for having a tiny dong, being sent to prison (and people relishing that a white man was falsely imprisoned), having his own mother try to murder him so she can have someone more competent run the family business, and finally he witnesses said mother being murdered. Again an example of despite the narrative telling us he has it good everything that was shown shows that his so-called privilege doesn't protect him from the tons of shit thrown at him.

And again going back to Stolas he in contrast is constantly shown to have everything in the narrative try to treat him as a sympathetic kicked dog who just wants to find love despite the stigma of being with a lower class demon. However, everything in this seems forced because it's made to ignore how much power he has over Blitzo which has been the main source of problem which is he hovers the book over him in exchange for sexual favors. As a result Blitzo feels trapped in the relationship due to Stolas having the upperhand. However, the narrative refuses to fully embrace it and skirts around it to prevent Stolas from being problematic. Also despite being shown as a cheater the narrative again goes out of it's way to try to make it justified that he did it due to making his wife so one dimensionally abusive. And again it's been brought up his daughter is a prop made to make him seem like a good dad, when in reality he has put his love for Blitzo over his daughter to the point he seems to neglect her more but we are expected to her to just tolerate it because he's supposedly trying. As a result, we don't see him sympathetic despite his privilege we see how privilege he is and wish he'd get over himself.

I do think that makes the biggest difference between the two because of the fact that Fred was allowed to change and realize he was crappy while the narrative enables Stolas to always view himself as a victim and dismiss his actions as not hurting people. Again I do not believe being privilege dismisses you from sympathy because the point of equality is that sympathy can be given to anyone regardless of status. However, I can't be sympathetic to someone who tries to cry about something while abusing their privilege on someone which is what Stolas does often, but the narrative wants to think everything is good. It just winds up making me hate him more and realize what a pathetic pos he is, while someone like Fred is made to be pathetic actually tries to better himself and hopefully does grow even more in the second season. Again bad writing is what it takes to sympathize with or not with how a privileged character is presented.