#I need you to understand how thrilled I am at the prospect of so much meter in the coming chapters

[alwaysanundertone]

Day 13, overstimulation | Enzo Berkshire

smut

TW: multiple orgasms, piv, oral (fem receiving), punishment (kinda), lil mention of spitting

“Strip.”

You huffed. “Enzo, stop, I didn’t mean to-“

“Angel, I’m really fucking pissed right now. I said strip, I’m not going to repeat myself.”

You started taking off your blouse, trying to stay quiet, but you couldn’t. “Listen, I know what it seemed like, okay? You have to understand that I was just tutoring that guy, it’s not my fault if-“

He flared his nostrils. “I know it’s not your fault if he touched you like that, but I’m still fucking pissed, and you know what happens when I get like this. So be quiet and strip”

You bit your lower lip, you knew that he had every right to be angry, and let’s be honest, you were thrilled at the prospect of receiving a punishment; the thing that got you anxious was the fact that you didn’t know if this was a façade or if he was really upset.

You looked up at him, he held the eye contact, then he sighed, softening his gaze. “Love, I know what you’re thinking about. I’m not disappointed, I know you didn’t want to be touched by him, and trust me, he will pay. Now, though, I need you to be a good girl for me, so that I can calm down. I promise I still love you, and I know you did nothing wrong.” You exhaled a breath of relief. “Now, lay down”

You did as you were told, not surprised when he pulled out two pairs of handcuffs, kissing both of your wrists after securing them to the headpost. He opened the drawer, holding a rose toy in his hand, and you already knew where this was going to go.

“Going to show you exactly who you belong to” You could feel yourself getting wetter by the minute. Enzo turned on the toy, the low buzz coming from it making you squirm, knowing what was to come.

He lowered his head on your right nipple, licking around it, then sucking on it, hard, making you moan. He trailed his finger over your wetness, you could feel him chuckle against your skin. “You’re so wet already, baby. I would recommend holding back, this won’t be over soon” You whimpered, his words only adding to the pleasure.

He bit down on your nipple, and you couldn’t process it because he was already pressing the toy to your clit, eliciting a silent moan from you. After a minute, you were already on the verge of coming.

“Enzo, oh my- I’m about to-“ He smiled up at you. “I know, baby, I know. Let go for me” And you did, but as you climaxed, he didn’t decrease the vibrations, you felt already a bit overstimulated.

“Too much, Enzo, please” He tsked. “You don’t think I will actually stop, right? I want to show you how he could never make you feel like I do. I am the only one who knows your body like this. So be a good girl and take it”

You whimpered, knowing there was nothing you could do that would make him stop, only saying your safe word, but you didn’t actually feel like it was too much, so you bit down on your lip hard. As you came down from your first orgasm, he put the toy aside, entering you with two fingers.

“Gonna taste you, princess” He lowered himself. Once between your thighs, he stared up at you before diving in, sucking on your clit. “No one will ever get to see you like this, do you understand me?” You nodded, and he delivered a harsh slap on your pussy, making you jump. “Words, love”

“No one will ever make me feel like-“ You moaned as he sucked harshly on your clit. “this, ever”

“Such a good girl for me, you’re mine only, got it?”

“Yes”

“Good. Going to make you come so many times, you’ll only remember my name” You moaned, again.

As your legs started shaking, your body preparing itself for the second orgasm, he pressed down on your belly with his free hand, making you come instantly.

Still, he didn’t give you a break. “Enzo, baby, I can’t take it”

He tsked as he pulled down in one swift motion both his pants and boxers. “I will tell you what is going to happen. I’m going to fuck you, you will also have your clit sucked by the toy. I won’t slow down until I come” You whimpered, the prospect of orgasming another time making you wince internally.

He kissed your cheek. “Do you remember your safe word?” You smiled up at him. “Pineapple” He lips curved into a proud smirk. “You’re doing so good for me baby”

Before you could dwell in his praise, he entered you with a brutal thrust, making you scream. Wasting no time, he positioned the rose toy and increased the vibrations to the maximum. Holding your ankles in his hands, he brought your feet to his ears, the angle allowing him to be impossibly deep inside of you.

He pressed down on your belly once more. “You have to understand that you are mine. Everyone has to understand that.” He bent down, sucking on your neck. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I don’t want to see any of these bitch boys touching you. Next time I’m going to fuck you in front of all of them” You moaned loudly at his words, feeling the next orgasm nearing.

As he spit on your tits, you came, squirting. “Ehat a good girl, even squirting for me. See? Nobody could make you squirt like I do.”

He continued fucking you, making you come another time before pulling out and dedicating the rest of the night to the aftercare, leaving you boneless.

tags: @sxmnc @peterparkerspersonalplaything @riaaavm @iamawkwardandshy @eeviee4 @mysterialee @famouscrusadeluminary @el1smells @rishofkf @mooonyxoxo @happymaeday @yourfiendlyneighbourspiderman @whyshouldihaveanam3 @amazing-bobinsky @barnesandmetal @just-here-for-ff @remussbitch @sammyreid

[cryptidghostgirl]

This is gunna sound confusing and Idk if you do him or not but could you do a Vox x reader where they have been dating for a while and Vox realizes that they havnt kissed yet and whenever he has tried or tries she turns away with a nervous laugh and says something to distract him and he finds out it's because she is nervous that she will mess up his screen like smudge it or break it (like when you touch a tv and the light warps because the screen moves slightly and if you do it to hard it can stay that way)

A/N i am actually obsessed with this idea. it is so cute and fluffy. it was so fun to write. Also, I know I said that part four of Cover Up was next in line but that part is gonna be NSFW and I am kinda nervous about it so....

Smudge (Vox x Gn!Partner!Reader)

Pairing: Vox x Reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort (but you're the one comforting Vox mostly)

Word Count: 1,255

Master Lists:

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Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Vox had known Y/n for nearly a year now and they had been together for just over five months. At first, he had assumed their resistance to have any physical contact outside of the holding of hands, the occasional hug or cuddle in front of the TV, was out of a desire to take things slow.

He looked over at where they sat beside him on the couch, his arm draped over the back of the sofa.

That he could understand. What he didn't understand was how slow taking it slow really meant. More than five months in and they had yet to have their first kiss. Y/n had never even so much as given him a peck on the cheek. Vox was a patient man but it didn't stop him from trying, he leaned in. Just as his lips were about to make contact with the side of their head -- not even their face! -- he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder.

Y/n had stopped him, again. Their eyes met his. They hadn't even given him the dignity of a gentle hand on his cheek, of anything other than an apologetic smile.

"I need to shower, my hair is greasy."

Vox was a confident man. In his position, it was hard not to be. Still, the whole situation was beginning to weigh on him. Y/n must have noticed as the smile slipped from their face, morphing their features into an expression of mild concern.

"Vox, hunny, are you okay?"

"I..."

He withdrew from the warmth of their touch, fixing his gaze back on the TV. It was unfamiliar territory. He had never had trouble getting people before, he had no idea how to act. In every past experience, he hadn't cared what disregarding such a request as to not kiss a prospective partner, or real partner even, could do. The care was what made things complicated.

Vox was not a good man. He had never been a good man, not even when alive. Y/n made him want to be one. The way they saw him... they didn't want him for his power, his influence, his money. They wanted him for him. It was obvious. In every lingering touch, every word, every home cooked meal or surprise outing. It was all so new, so different. They made Vox want to be the man they thought him to be.

"It's nothing."

Y/n was silent for a moment. He could feel their eyes on him but did not dare to return their quizzical stare. It was all so fragile, their relationship, even Y/n themself. He heard them sigh and felt their weight shift on the couch beside him. The TV clicked off. At last, he met their gaze once more.

"I don't like it when you lie to me." they hummed softly, turning to face him fully, pulling their knees up onto the couch, "What's going on?"

Vox grimaced.

"It's... please, Y/n. Don't worry about it. Everything is okay, I promise."

Y/n raised their eyebrows, cocking their head to one side. They could tell he was lying. Somehow, they always could. From the moment he met them, Vox had the uncanny feeling Y/n could see right through his facade, to the very essence of his being. It was a fear, it was a thrill, it was a delight, it was...

Vox sighed, his eyes finding his hands where they rested in his lap. He wasn't used to feeling small, to feeling weak. He did now.

"It's stupid."

"If it is bothering you this much, it's not stupid Voxy."

The dam broke.

"Why wont you kiss me?"

His voice came out smaller than he'd meant it too, more frail then he thought it was possible of being. Y/n said nothing in response and tentatively, Vox looked back over to them. Their lips were slightly parted, their eyes met his. Y/n blushed and looked away.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Vox sighed, leaning back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling, "I told you, don't worry about it."

"No, Vox. It... clearly its upsetting you, let's talk about it."

"So, why wont you?" he prompted after a moment.

He watched them out of the corner of his eye, noting the way their eyes flicked nervously around the room, the way they fiddled with their interlaced fingers. A tremor in his diaphragm, his heart fell.

"If you don't..." Vox took a deep breath, "if you d-"

"It's not that I don't love you." Y/n interrupted, still refusing to meet his sidelong glance with their own eyes, "It's... I want to be with you Vox, you're the best thing that has ever happened to me for Christ's sake it's just..."

"Just what?"

"It's... stupid."

They looked up at him, the hint of a smile on their face, their brow furrowed. Vox straightened himself. If they were going to repeat his words, he could repeat theirs too. He took their hands into his, facing fear head on.

"If it's bothering you that much, it can't be stupid or... or whatever it was you said..."

Y/n let out a slight laugh.

"Okay fine, but you have to promise not to laugh, okay?"

"I promise."

They watched him for a moment, appraising the validity of his statement, before nodding their head once.

"Isn't it going to... I don't know... what if I crack your screen?"

Vox's eyes went wide. He couldn't help himself, he laughed. Y/n pulled their hands from his, hitting his arm playfully.

"Hey! You promised."

"I know!" Vox struggled to catch his breath, "It's just... thats what you've been worried about this whole time?"

"Uh... yeah?"

Finally, Vox managed to calm himself, looking over at Y/n happily.

"What."

"Come here."

He patted his lap. Y/n looked doubtfully between his hand and his face.

"Come here." Vox said again.

They rolled their eyes, standing up and taking a few steps towards Vox before sitting down.

"Other way."

They shot him a look over their shoulder. Vox rolled his eyes.

"Please."

"Why?"

"Just... trust me."

After a moments thought, Y/n readjusted their position, now straddling their boyfriend. They placed their hands on his shoulders, keeping their balance. Vox reached a hand up to their face, cupping their cheek gently. Y/n leaned into the gesture as if on instinct, their cheeks flushing pink once they realized what they had done. Vox chuckled.

"Y/n, can I kiss you?"

"What if I smudge your glass? Or like, leave one of those weird imprints or something on your face? I-"

He cut them off mid worry, pressing his lips softly to theirs. It was not a long kiss or a very deep one but it sent shivers down Y/n's spine, sparks to Vox's fingers. Their eyes met, Y/n was breathless.

"Not so bad, was it?"

Y/n leaned forward, balling their hands into the unbuttoned collar of his shirt as they kissed him again.

"No." they hummed, "Not bad at all."

Vox laughed. Running a hand through their hair, he pressed a soft kiss to their forehead. He couldn't stop smiling.

"I'm alright."

"I was right though."

Vox's brow furrowed and Y/n grinned up at him, raising their hand to his face.

"I did smudge you."

------

TAGS

@matrixbearer2024 @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @peterpankat @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa

[fancy-rock-dove]

All of this, I love it so, so much. These tags though:

I FEEL THIS THOUGH. It is SO FUN to think about because English has STRONG preferences for certain stress patterns in certain kinds of words! Two-syllable nouns/adverbs/adjectives preference stressing the first syllable so strongly that developmental linguists use this fact to tell when babies start separating words by recognition/meaning rather than just by stress patterns. BUT two-syllable verbs preference stressing the second syllable. So much that this is usually how we tell which is which in speech where it would be ambiguous whether we wanted a verb or a noun otherwise.

So switching poetic feet literally affects the word order in your sentences and how you frame the action and the agency you give the subject, and once you start thinking about it too much you can NEVER GO BACK. It's the Pandora's box of poetry.

What's your favorite dialogue for Oaths so far? (Either chapter 10 or as a whole!)

WIP asks!

Chapter 10 has a lot of dialogue! Of course being the penultimate chapter, the boss battle, the wyrmening, etc., almost all of it is actually horribly spoiler-y. There's some biggish canon departures (not saying which canon! maybe both!) I'd like to keep a hat on for now. My favourite bit is currently written in common meter and maybe the MOST spoiler-y lines of all. There's also a bit of gratuitously poetic Middle English (a bit I've had jotted down for AGES, before I'd written almost anything at all), other meter (currently slapdash iambic pentameter, possibly to be changed to trochaic who-the-fuck-knows, lovingly absolutely the fault of @that-banhus), Big Declarations, bravado, rage, fear....all the good shit!

Anyways I've realized I don't want to share ANY of it and give even a scrap away so I'll say for Oaths so far it's obviously "Do you fuck, son of man?" mostly because it made it to a tee-shirt, but massive mentions to: Hob describing the hardships of life in Chapter 4, Duncan's first song in Chapter 2 that I was SO nervous about the reception of, that entire first multi-character convo, the first Hob/Dream dialogue that quotes the ballad, any dialogue that includes words I discovered in Dictionary of the Scots Language, the exchange in Chapter 4 where Dream says Hob is hardly a terrible man and Hob says not here he's not, honestly any of their flirting, any of the lads' banter, Hob in Chapter 5 saying he wants to be like a summer sheep, dialogue that echoes and plays with dialogue in Sandman canon, the chapter 7 tame/wild bit, Dream unraveling the truth of his curse in Chapter 8 against his will, Sande telling Hob how proud he is, any monologue (your girl loves monologues),.... i'm just gonna stop hahahaha

[pascaloverx]

To Begin Again

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. Dear readers, I'm back. With a significant time jump, Harry, Draco, and others who were once children are now teenagers, almost adults. More mature themes will be portrayed in this fanfic. Come and see how Y/N navigates her new life as a maternal figure for Draco while trying to help Sirius and Harry move forward with their lives. Enjoy the read!

TWENTY

After much searching, you finally spot Harry with Hermione and Ron at the far edge of Hogwarts' grounds. They’re darting around a large tree, chasing each other with carefree laughter. The sight is almost endearing—if not for the ever-persistent presence of Remus, who has followed you the entire way, his silent proximity wearing on your nerves.

"Harry, dear, we must be going," you call, your tone polite yet firm, hoping to hasten his departure. The trio stops their playful antics, turning their attention to you. Harry, still catching his breath, offers a sheepish smile before glancing at Hermione and Ron, as if reluctant to leave the fun. The three approach, their camaraderie evident as they exchange grins and small nudges.

"Professor Grindelwald! It's been ages since the last time we saw each other," Ron exclaims, his enthusiasm evident as he wraps you in an unexpectedly tight embrace.

"Ron, you're going to suffocate the professor," Hermione scolds, swatting his arm lightly, though there's a fondness in her tone. Meanwhile, Harry stands rooted in place, his eyes fixed on Lupin. His expression betrays a mix of confusion and hesitation, as though he's unsure how to react to his former mentor’s presence.

"Hermione and Ron, you've grown so much. You seem sharper now," you say warmly, your gaze softening. "There's no need to call me Professor or Mrs. Grindewald anymore. Just call me by my name from now on. Perhaps you could visit us at the former Malfoy residence—maybe tomorrow for dinner? I can ask Minerva to grant you permission," you suggest, gently holding Harry's arm to reassure him.

"Does that mean we'll have to see Malfoy again?" Ron asks with a disdainful tone, his lips curling slightly. He doesn't seem thrilled by the prospect. However, Hermione kisses his cheek gently, and the gesture softens him visibly.

"We would love to, Mrs.—I mean, Y/N," Hermione replies with a bright smile, her arm sliding around Ron's in a way that suggests more than just friendship. It seems Draco and Harry aren’t the only ones harboring complicated feelings.

"You're living in the Malfoy house? And you brought Harry there?" Remus suddenly interjects, his voice laden with disbelief. His indignation is palpable, as if he’s only just now piecing the information together.

"Not that it’s any of your concern, but yes," you reply sharply, your gaze narrowing. "The former Malfoy residence is as capable of being a home as any other. And as Harry, like Draco, is under my care, he will live under the same roof as me. I understand that your style is more that of a guardian who prioritizes romance over those he should be caring for, but I am not like that."

Turning your attention back to the trio, you soften your tone. "Now, children, I’ll speak to Minerva tomorrow morning and come fetch you to visit our home." You gesture for Harry to say his goodbyes to his friends.

"I'll bring them tomorrow," Remus interjects, his voice calm but assertive, as if trying to stake some claim in the situation.

"I would like him to come as well..." Harry says hesitantly, his tone revealing both uncertainty and a desire for Lupin's presence. You step back slightly, caught off guard, but quickly compose yourself, nodding in agreement. "Very well, then. It’s settled—Remus will bring the two of you and join us for dinner at our home," you reply, your tone calm but with a hint of reluctance.

Remus seems pleased with his apparent victory. You assume it’s due to the opportunity to see Harry and Sirius, but truthfully, you’d rather not have him as a guest in your home right now. Harry bids farewell to Ron and Hermione with a warm embrace, the three whispering something to one another before parting ways. You and Harry then head toward your car, trailed by Remus for reasons unknown.

“There’s no need to accompany us, Remus,” you say, walking alongside Harry, making your stance clear. Harry chuckles softly under his breath, glancing at Remus with a look that could only be described as pity.

"It’s a pleasure to be in your company, Y/N," Remus remarks with condescension, placing a hand on Harry’s head and ruffling his hair as though to demonstrate the closeness of their bond. "I also want Harry to know that, despite your obvious disdain for me, I will always be nearby."

"Of course," you reply with biting sarcasm, "because it was clearly I who distanced you from him and not your blatant lack of commitment." Harry chuckles softly, glancing between the two of you. "I thought you two had worked things out," he mutters, amused by the ongoing battle of barbs between you and Lupin.

"There is nothing between us, Harry," you say firmly, just as Remus chimes in, "I thought things were fine as well, child." For a moment, you lock eyes with Remus, as though trying to decipher where exactly the two of you stand. His expression is unreadable, yet there’s a flicker of something that leaves you unsettled.

"I’ll wait for you in the car. Goodbye, Remus," Harry interjects, offering a quick farewell before heading off. His departure leaves an awkward silence lingering between you and Remus.

"If you wish to bring your fiancée along tomorrow, feel free. I'm certain Sirius and the boys will thoroughly enjoy everyone's company," you say with a sweetness that borders on mockery.

"Sirius is with you?" Remus asks, his tone a peculiar mixture of curiosity and hurt. You pause, narrowing your gaze at him. "He is. Where else would he be? Abandoned, like before?" you retort, letting your words linger in the air, sharp enough to sting.

"You shouldn't speak of what you don't know, Y/N. You have no idea what I went through with Black; don't judge me without understanding the whole story," Remus says, his gaze steady but tinged with disappointment. Yet his eyes seem distant, lost in some memory.

"I apologize if I have upset you. I'm leaving now, but I will expect you tomorrow with Ron and Hermione for dinner," you reply curtly, turning to make your way to the car.

Before you can reach the door, Remus grabs your arm, his grip firm but not forceful. "Thank you, at least, for allowing me to be near him," he says, his eyes flickering toward Harry, who remains obliviously focused on the view outside.

"Don’t thank me. If it were up to me, neither you nor Sirius would be anywhere near Harry," you retort coldly, shaking off his hand before stepping into the car. Without waiting for a response, you start the engine and drive away, leaving Remus standing there with his thoughts.

Harry is distracted by the music playing in the car while your thoughts wander to everything that's been happening in your life. As you park, you notice Draco's car already in the driveway—Sirius and Draco must have arrived ahead of you.

Stepping inside with Harry, you're immediately greeted by chaos. Sirius is covered in vomit, struggling to hold up Draco, who is clearly drunk.

"What in the world did you do to him, Black?" you nearly shout, your blood boiling with anger.

"Mom, don’t yell at him. He let me try... try... what was it again?" Draco slurs, his voice unusually soft and syrupy. Harry bursts into laughter at the scene, while your glare at Sirius intensifies.

"After we finished all we had to do, Malfoy asked me to take him somewhere fun. I figured teaching him how to drink beer would be a good idea," Sirius explains, still supporting Draco, who now clings to Sirius’s neck and reaches out to pull you closer to them.

"How could it possibly be a good idea to give beer to a damn teenager, Black?!" you exclaim, wanting to kill Sirius Black. "Mom, you don't have to yell," Draco slurs, still clinging to Sirius.

"He needs a bath," you whisper, and Sirius nods in agreement. The stench of Draco's vomit is killing your sense of smell.

"Take responsibility for your actions and bathe him, you irresponsible fool," you say in a low voice, gripping Sirius by the collar of his shirt.

"You want me to bathe Draco?" Sirius asks, as if the suggestion were utterly absurd. Admittedly, it does sound rather peculiar.

"I can help him, if you’d prefer," Harry interjects, cutting through your argument with Sirius.

"Harry Potter wants to see me naked, wants to see me naked," Draco says, grinning without a care in the world. He's still holding onto you and Sirius, swaying like he's caught in some private, offbeat rhythm only he can hear.

"Draco, no one is going to see you naked," you snap, trying to regain control of the situation. He pivots to face you, his expression playful and slightly glazed. With a mischievous tone, he murmurs, "Don’t ruin my fun, Mum," as if this is all part of the joke.

"Look, Black, you're lucky your smell is almost as bad as Draco's. Go take a shower while Harry and I deal with Malfoy; but don’t think for a second that I won’t kill you," you say, fighting the urge to rip his hair out.

"Understood, ma'am. I’ll go get my shower before I'm sentenced," Sirius replies, almost sarcastically, before running off. What an idiot. You give Harry a nod, and together you help Draco toward their bathroom. The weight of the situation doesn’t quite hit you yet; you’re too focused on getting Draco cleaned up. He’s still giggling and swaying in your arms, his words slurred but relentless, clearly enjoying the chaos.

With some difficulty, the two of you manage to prepare a bath for Draco in the bathtub. Poor Harry had to help you strip Draco of his vomit-covered clothes and hold him while you adjusted the water temperature.

"I can close my eyes if you want to drown him," Harry says, his voice light and joking, as you carefully lower Draco into the bath, now wearing nothing but his underwear. You can’t help but chuckle, despite the madness of it all. It’s hard to be angry when Harry is trying so hard to make light of the situation. Draco, on the other hand, is too far gone to notice, mumbling something about the water being too cold and asking for more alcohol.

"Harry, can you tell Mommy to tell Sirius he was a good fake dad?" Draco says, playfully splashing the water with his hands.

Harry laughs, watching Draco as if he's the most adorable thing in the world. "You think you can take care of him? I need to put the clothes in the washing machine and kill Sirius," you say, the exhaustion finally hitting you.

Harry nods, still chuckling. "Don’t worry, I’ll keep him entertained." He gives Draco a gentle shove, as if telling him to calm down for a moment. "And don't go too hard on Sirius. I get that Draco wants to do these things with him. In one of the letters he sent me in the past, Malfoy said he wanted to know what it was like to drink with a father or go fishing," Harry says, defending Sirius.

"Do you feel the same way?" you ask, gently helping Draco lather his hair. Draco is so absorbed in the bubbles of the bath that he's stopped talking altogether.

"In this moment, I’m content. I barged into your life not too long ago, and you’ve been treating me like you want to protect me. It makes me feel good. Knowing I don’t have to face everything alone. And before you worry, I’ve had beer once, and I didn’t like the taste," Harry says with a smile, and you pull him into a hug.

"I’m glad I don’t have to worry about you," you say softly, giving Harry a comforting hug. "Now, help this silly boy get dressed and give him some water. He’s going to need it," you add, stepping away from Harry and heading out of the boys' bathroom.

You run toward Sirius, fury boiling in your veins. You recall that he likely went to take a shower in your bathroom, so you storm into your room. To your surprise, you come face to face with Sirius, towel wrapped around his waist, water still dripping from his face and body, leaving you momentarily stunned. "How can you be so reckless?" you ask, stepping closer. He looks up, startled, as he finally notices you.

"Look, I know I screwed up, but you need to understand that it was probably the most genuine moment I've had with Draco since I met the kid. He needed it, and I gave in. I recognize it was wrong, but I don't regret it," Sirius explains, stepping closer to you. You shrug off your coat, wanting to be more comfortable and, truth be told, because Draco had ruined it with his vomit.

"You should go to hell, Sirius," you snap, your tone sharp as you toss your soiled coat onto a nearby chair. "I trusted you to look after Draco, and he came back completely drunk," you say, your voice firm but less sharp now. "If we're going to care for these boys together, I need to know you can be the responsible adult in this arrangement." You pause, studying Sirius as his expression shifts from guilt to cautious curiosity. With a sigh, you continue, softening just slightly.

"That being said—thank you for giving Draco that moment. Harry told me how much it meant to him, and I’m glad he could have that experience, even if the execution was reckless." Your words feel conflicted, but you hope they convey your frustration while also acknowledging his effort. You cross your arms, waiting for Sirius to respond, your eyes never leaving his.

He steps closer, closing the distance between you, and captures your lips in a fervent, almost inexplicable kiss. For a moment, you find yourself responding, drawn into the intensity of it, before you pull back slightly, murmuring, "Why did you kiss me?" Your voice carries both confusion and a tinge of breathlessness as you await his response.

"I thought it was the right way to end this discussion," Sirius replies, his words barely more than a whisper against your lips, his tone both teasing and disarmingly earnest.

"I admire your boldness, but it would be best if you left. This is hardly the time for fiery kisses and... erotic thoughts," you say, shaking your head as though trying to deny even to yourself the direction of your mind.

"I wasn’t having any erotic thoughts. But I’ll respect your timing, Y/N," Sirius replies, his voice low yet teasing as he remains close for a moment longer before stepping back. He finally exits your room, leaving you with a lingering heat that you try, and fail, to dismiss entirely.

[justagalwhowrites]

Ooh she’s back!! ☺️ I hope you had a fun and relaxing vacay!

So thinking about any future characters you’d write for and work you have/haven't seen, what about Ezra? I was sincerely pleased by how much I liked Prospect. I don’t usually go for scifi but the lower budget look of the thing really appealed to me. I don’t even know if it was intentional, but I loved how all the ships/equipment looked kinda normal? Like mechanical in a way we’d understand and not just scifi deus ex machina. Plus Ezra is cute af. And I love Sophie Thatcher. I haven’t seen The Bubble, Kingsmen, or The Great Wall. I think they might put me off a bit but I love his clips.

Also, I would love to know your names for Doc & Bambi (and NIT if she has one). Reader inserts don’t really work on me so I actually like a look/name 😃

Hi Bestie!!!

I am, indeed, back!

My vacation was LOVELY. I got to see some of my oldest friends, experienced some very cool art installations, went wine tasting, ate great food. I just got to love on some of my favorite people and it was the best! I just wrote almost nothing at all. Like fuck all. Like 2,000 words. That's it. I'm lame.

I really want to write for Ezra! I just haven't had something come out and grab me yet as a story idea or a character thought, either? But I do fully intend to write for him. I'm a sucker for sci-fi. It's one of my first loves and exploring worlds outside our own is so much fun. That's probably why my first fic was Mando, the Star Wars universe has had me in a chokehold for like 27 years! Prospect is definitely on the list. I just need to think a bit harder!

As far as character names go, they're below the cut! Please know these might be true for me but I don't consider them canon. Their names are whatever you want them to be! But yeah, I know just about everything about my characters lol most of it doesn't end up in the story but I like knowing it, the names are just a part of that :)

Names :D Here are the character names and why they're called what they're called!

Doc - Rachel Elizabeth Evans. Rachel is also her grandmother's first name and Elizabeth is a family middle name. Evans is her mom's last name. Joel and Tommy frequently called her Rach before they really fell into the whole Kid thing but Joel tried to use her real, full first name around Sarah to make sure Sarah was respectful and used the name Rachel.

Bambi - Ophelia Marie Brooks. Bambi's mom DESPERATELY wanted a hyper feminine and refined sounding name for her only daughter, something that she felt would make her sound like a true southern belle. Of course, Bambi had other ideas. So yeah, she was getting announced at rodeos as Ophelia Brooks before getting yeeted off a horse lmfao Weirdly, Bambi was pretty cool with her name. She liked that it wasn't the same as anyone else's she was in school with because she didn't feel much connection to any of those people. It gave her some room to find her own identity because she didn't know another Ophelia. Richie called her Lili when he was little and couldn't say Ophelia and her pet name as a girl was Ladybug when she was really small (and forever for her mother) and that just became Bug when it became clear that there wasn't much ladylike about Bambi.

Beautiful - Chloe Renee Myers. Not too much of a story behind this name! Renee is a family middle name and Chloe was just the name that her mom liked when she was a teenager and pregnant. Myers is her dad's last name, something Beautiful is not thrilled about. She is very much looking forward to taking the name Miller! She's also kind of happy that she's going to keep the same initials because she bought herself a monogrammed necklace as a treat your self thing when she finished college and she's like "oh sweet, that's still going to be accurate!"

If you read the names, I'm dying to know if you think they fit the characters or think they're way off base or if you had something else in mind.

Thanks for reading!! Love you!!!!

[lemonthepotato]

I might be in the minority, but no, criticism isn’t my fear when I do publish my book (hopefully this month… massive emphasis on hopefully. Funny story, I’ve fully edited 3 books, wrote 4, am working on a 5th, but I still keep finding so many typos in my first that it isn’t publishable yet.)

Like, yes, having hour long essays on how much of a shitty writer I am is my dream, not because I like negative attention, but because someone delving deep into my work at any level would be such an honour for me. I watch book critiques and I just think “that could be me. I could be writing the next infamous trashterpiece.”

And I don’t go out of my way to write trash, mind you, the opposite, but if anything I write turns out to be so bad that people feel a need to criticise it on a massive platform? Not only is that highly unlikely, but man, I’d be fucking honoured. I swear it’s not weird. I just have always enjoyed criticism. I enjoy watching criticism of things I like, dislike, everything. The only downside is people who harass over criticism. Wouldn’t want that in my direction.

Point is, I write the first draft for myself, the second draft for myself, the third draft for the readers, and any draft from then on is for the readers, the critics, the lovers, the haters. Having your work ignored just FEELS worse than having it be critiqued, because at least they care enough to read into what you were TRYING to say.

From experience, when I have truly disliked a piece of media, I became obsessive, dissecting it, trying to understand what went wrong. And while I don’t think I’ve made many posts going into detail about my criticisms of anything, it does plague my mind. I watched an anime once with such a terrible ending, that the shitty romcom anime I would’ve forgotten in a month became a hyper fixation as I tried to understand what went wrong.

So, yes, I DO love the critics, not out of a spiteful, vindictive need to one-up them, but because having anyone care enough to delve that deep into my work would honestly be an honour. It’ll never happen, and maybe for the better. I do get nervous about attention. I crave it, but when I get it, I get nervous. As much as the prospect of being a famous, or even infamous author intrigues me, I *am* overwhelmed easily. What was my point again? Oh, yeah, I love criticism.

And it’s tempting to say in response to criticism “no, you see, that was intentional,” or “oh, no, you see, that was intended to be” but I think the worst one is “oh… yeah, I know, I knew for a while, but couldn’t think of a way to fix it.”

Anyway, the most important part of being a writer is actually writing, the planet is fucked, and uh yeah, swag. You know what else I don’t get? People who write depressing shit. The world is already so fucking depressing, why would I want to feel worse? I write dark shit, but more from a “oh, this is thrilling, look at all this crazy shit happening!” rather than “oh, this is sad, think about the deep implications of this scene.” Like noooo, just enjoy the action, don’t read too deep into the existential reality of it. I did, and when I did that, I accidentally wrote a sequel with… semi-coherent themes… eww, what’s that doing in my writing? /j

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Damn Your Love, Damn Your Lies chp 11

here or read it below

It’s not like Daniel isn’t used to fighting with his significant other.  He’s got two divorces under his belt.  But he honestly doesn’t know what he did wrong with Rashid. Obviously, asking him about Louis like that was a bad idea.  But he had seemed upset even before that.

He needs to find him.  

Daniel finds Rashid by the pool.  He’s sitting on the edge and has his feet dangling in the water.  Daniel goes and sits next to him.  Rashid says nothing.

“I’m sorry I asked about Louis.  It was out of line.”

Rashid is still silent.  Daniel sighs and looks at his profile.  Rashid won’t look at him.  “The truth is I was being a jealous shit-head.  And you can fuck whoever you want, you don’t owe me anything.”

Rashid turns his head and looks at him.  He looks tired.  “What do you want, Daniel?”

“I want to make things right,” Daniel says.  “We only have so much time here, I don’t want to waste it fighting.”

“Yes, you’re leaving.”  Rashid doesn’t sound thrilled at the prospect.

“I’m going to miss you, you know,” Daniel says.  “I like you.  I barely know you, but I like you.”

“Then stay,” Rashid says, eyes intense.

And Daniel loves him, but that’s crazy.

“Baby, I can’t,” he says.  “I got a life to get back to.”

“A life that I am no part of,” Rashid says and stands briskly.  “I’ll see you later, Mr. Molloy.  Mr. de Pointe du Lac is having me for dinner.”

Daniel wants to stop him from leaving, but Rashid slips from his grasp when he grabs for his arm.  He can’t understand why Rashid is angry.  He started this thing saying he’d be Daniel’s secret.  Maybe he wants more?

But what is Daniel supposed to do?  Give up everything and move to Dubai for a man he’s known less than a fortnight?  A man less than half his age.  

What is he doing here?

/

When Rashid said that Louis was having him for dinner, Daniel didn’t think he meant literally.  But Daniel watches as Rashid takes the seat next to Louis and Louis pops at the vein in his neck.  Rashid lets out the smallest moan.  Then Louis is sucking at Rashid’s neck while Daniel is trying to read Claudia’s journals.

“It’s a kill list,” Daniel says, trying to focus on the journals and not Rashid.  Damek looked like it hurt.  Rashid doesn’t look like he’s hurting.  

“Yes,” Rashid says, looking at him.  He’s been staring at Daniel the whole time.  Daniel could feel it, even while he’s trying not to look.

“In a teenager’s handwriting, Daniel continues, as though watching this isn’t making him crazy.  As if the man he’s fucking doesn’t have another man’s mouth on his neck.  As if he didn’t hear Rashid moan for Louis.

“The final words of her victims,” says Rashid.  “There are forty-two pages if I remember correctly.”

“I’m trying to think of something more fucked up than this.”

“And how is your work any different?”  Rashid says, keeping eye contact. “Well, what do you think will happen to Mr. du Lac when you publish this book, when the other vampires of the world get their hands on it?”

“As long as they pay full freight,” Daniel says, feeling increasingly irritated.  Where does Rashid get off criticizing his work?  As if he isn’t working for a stone cold killer.  As if that killer isn’t sucking on his neck, right in front of Daniel.

Has been for a while, actually.  Longer than Damek got drunk from.

“They will make their way to Dubai.  They will scale the sides of this building, force their way inside, and paint the walls with his blood.”  

Louis pulls away from Rashid and exhales slowly.  Rashid stands up and moves a few steps closer to Daniel, pressing a tissue to his neck.  “You are chronicling a suicide.  Do not look down on Claudia.  Look in the mirror.”

Daniel looks at Rashid and feels like a fool.  Rashid is so worried for Louis’ safety.  Here he is, in love with him and he’s down bad for Louis.  But what else could he expect?  He’s an old man and Louis is a vampire.  He’s beautiful and immortal and rich.  Rashid has always been his.  Daniel never stood a chance. 

Why bother starting this thing at all, then?  Why pretend to care, if it means nothing?

“Rashid is an opinionated young man,” Louis says.  “He lives to share these opinions, even when they’re not solicited.”

Daniel remembers how Louis talked about the little drink.  Wonders if it feels as good for Rashid.  Louis certainly seemed to be enjoying himself before Rashid started talking.  He wonders-

“What’s he taste like?”  Louis says, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.  

“I didn’t ask that.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Stay out of my head,” Daniel says.

“Honey and pineapple,” Louis says, as if Daniel hasn’t spoken.  Daniel sighs heavily.  “He stuffs himself with both for days before he offers himself to me.  Would you like to sample?”

What kind of game is Louis playing here?  Does he know?

“I’ll wait till Damek comes around again.  I’m a savory man most days,” Daniel says, not looking at Rashid.  He can still feel his eyes on him.  

Damek nearly passed out after Louis fed on him.  Rashid was getting sucked on a lot longer, and he’s a lot smaller.  Something is up.

“I care for him more than he cares for himself,” Rashid says.  It’s probably the truest thing he’s said to Daniel.  “And I wouldn’t let you near my neck if you were–”

What’s gotten Rashid so worked up?  Things were fine and now he’s damn near hostile.

Sixty-two and a half kilograms,” Louis cuts in.  

“What?” Rashid says.

“138 pounds for the metrically challenged,” Louis says and glances over at Rashid.  “Daniel here was wondering how much you weigh, Rashid, so I told him–”

“Stay out of my head,” Daniel says, closing his eyes.  He doesn’t want Louis to see any of his thoughts, much less the ones centered on Rashid.

“Sleep, pray, eat, pray, swim, pray, et cetera.  On days he’s a plump 139, I believe he swims twice.  Metronomic, my Rashid.”

‘My’ Rashid.  Daniel feels like such a goddamn idiot.  

It’s petty but he pushes his cup towards Rashid and demands a refill.  Rashid glares at him for a moment, then leaves to go get his refill.  Daniel can feel the anger rolling off him as he goes.  He turns his attention back to Louis, and to doing his damn job.

This thing with Rashid was a distraction.  He should have known better than to indulge in it.  

It’s a mistake he won’t make again.

[zakariaxwolfe]

"Why not D?" He asked her, looking with pleading eyes. "We miss you. I've missed you so much. Soph- she doesn't even know her aunt." Of course, she knew of her. Zak made sure to tell plenty of stories so she could live on. "The baby will be here soon." He felt like he was about to lose her all over again. "Why would I kill you for leaving? You were never officially a member? You didn't prospect. You didn't swear your loyalty, you are just family." Zak was sworn in young. He knew this was what he wanted. He went through his prospect phase in his late teen years.

"I know this is dangerous and scary and I am in no shape to say it but I can keep you safe if that is what you are running from? Is someone after you, D?" He just didn't understand. But he had a different experience and perspective than she did. She felt like she had no other option at the time. He's looking at this ten years later knowing what he does now, not what he knew then.

"That is not true, Dani." He shook his head. What about Harley? She was my wife and not in the club. She walked away perfectly fine." He was less than thrilled about that one. She was just like you. The family grew up in the club, but she didn't want that. She was only back because she heard about the shooting, too, and decided to join up, though he didn't see her lasting. Zak simply shook his head. He did not agree with her. They could go on and on about this but they would never meet in the middle. "You are simply wrong. I have to believe that. I have to work to ensure that. Because I don't want this for my kids. But I don't want them to go and do what you did either. There had to have been another way. Maybe you were to scared to try it, to scared to risk it. But that honestly just tells me we weren't worth the risk."

"That is exactly what I am saying, which is not fair. How am I supposed to lie to her? And I won't. I won't lie to her Dani. You can tell her yourself before I do, or I tell her." He would of course talk to Oxana first and see what she thought the best option would be, but he did not want to be caught in this lie. If ma ever found out and then found out he knew? No. He didn't want anything to do with it. He would lie to everyone else, and do what he needed to, to protect her. But he would not lie to their mother. "She isn't at peace with you being dead. She still hangs on to hope. Nobody, no closure." Their mother was such a kind woman, who loved everyone she came to meet. That's why they adopted so many kids, saving them. "Oxana is VP now. Jay will take her old position. While I'm out Ox is acting PM and Jay is her second so you are somewhat right." He said with an exhale. "Still should have warned me." What he didn't realize was the missed call and voicemail left by Jason.

Having her in his arms again melted away any anger or pain he was just feeling. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his hand coming to rub her back. "Shhh. It's okay." He felt a tear fall down his face as he held her tight. She was real. She was alive. He could feel her, hold her, see her. "I'm gonna be fine, D. Those little pussy can't keep me down for long." He said trying to cheer her up a little. "I got too much to live for to die now." He felt like shit as she cracked in front of him. He knew it couldn't have been easy for her, being away from everyone she knew and loved. "I love you, Daniela." He whispered down to her. "Always. Even when I'm upset with you, don't forget that." He didn't want her to leave here feeling like she could never come back, that he hated her for what she did. He was hurt but ultimately he just wanted her home. "I will do whatever you need me to do, as me, your older brother, not the ghost rider president. You just need to say the words."

Of course Daniela knew it was never going to be this easy. That Zak and perhaps many others wouldn't be able to respect her wishes when it came to walking back out of this world again. The ties that she worked so hard to sever already seeking to twist their way around her neck, to pull tight and keep her tethered. If Daniela Wolfe was alive again - everything she had could be lost. Everything she'd built could be taken from her. If Daniela Wolfe was alive again, her name would be re-written in the list of every family member of leaders who's blood was worth the most, splattered across the pavement. And that was without taking into account the details of how she'd disappeared so easily. She bit her tongue, swallowed back every argument of her cruelty. For years, she'd beaten herself up for her choice, but in the end, she'd done what she had to do for herself, and nobody else. Zak didn't need to agree with it - but perhaps one day he'd respect it. "No," she said, with the slightest hint of bitter laughter behind it, "no it really doesn't change anything." Whatever she'd done in returning, she'd face the consequences as he saw fit - but she wouldn't come back, it was the hard line. No matter what, once she walked back out of the doors of this building, that would be it. "I know - I know you nearly died, and I'm here." What more do you want of me? Pleaded through onyc hues that wore every ounce of pain that his near death had brought her. The very news had pulled her from the fucking grave... "I'm here, Zak. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is for me? I didn't know whether I was walking into... this.. -- or you putting a bullet in my head for leaving."

[markantonys]

time for my end-of-tfoh post!! this one is LONG but i just had so many thoughts on the last few chapters

i LOVE nynaeve nerding out over healing and elayne over making angreal. they are so cute and powerful!! it’s nice especially to see elayne develop her Thing™ the way nynaeve has healing and egwene dreaming

min and elayne reunion! interesting to finally see 2 of rand’s gfs acknowledge to each other that they both like him. and good for them for not wanting it to affect their friendship and for trying to make the best of it, though elayne is understandably less than thrilled at the prospect of sharing rand (when as far as she knows she’s still the only one of the 3 who’s had any sort of actual relationship with him)

“i saw that you’d fall in love with him, i don’t know what he feels for you” wow min no need to make elayne feel more insecure than she already does. min is just not buttering my bread this book i have to say.

“who was the third woman? aviendha had better be keeping a close eye on him” that’s some delicious dramatic irony and my first reaction was to laugh, but also, it really hits home how scummy it was that aviendha and rand slept together. like, elayne has put so much trust in her! at least aviendha is very aware of the wrong done and plans to make amends for it, from her mention of having toh to elayne now. and elayne’s conflicting letters give rand juuuuust enough plausible deniability regarding her feelings and intentions towards him that it MAYBE doesn’t count as cheating. still, doesn’t sit right with me and my elayne-loving heart.

back to cairhien. poor rand, he’s got so many problems, and to top it all off everyone in cairhien (still) wants to fuck him. the show better have some cairhienin lords as well as ladies thirsting over rand or else it’s a coward

“moiraine smiled. ‘you learn quickly. you will do well.’ for a moment she looked almost fond.” MOMRAINE 😭

“[mat’s] green coat hung open, and his shirt was half unlaced, exposing the silver foxhead dangling on his sweaty chest” someone get rand a glass of water, he’s thirsty

rand intentionally letting mat be scared by the 3 aes sedai (well 2+aviendha) to make him more susceptible to what rand needs to order him to do 🗡️💔 1x06 rand “pulls a sword on moiraine to protect mat from her” al’thor would be horrified. oh it hurts to see who my sunshine boy is being forced to become

mat insulting elayne and in the same breath saying he’s glad she’s not here to hear the news of morgase’s death. matlayne rights!

i never believed even for a moment that she was really dead, but rand’s guilt over it hurts!!

mat straightaway advocating for finding elayne and putting her on the throne. matlayne rights!

“i will see you tonight or i will see you dead” rand you can’t just summon asmodean for a bootycall right in front of your girlfriend and your boyfriend and your ex-girlfriend and your mom

“you will never choose what risks i take, rand al’thor. never. know it now.” obsessed with this line, i want it tattooed on my brain

“‘i said, shut up!’ rand drove the foxhead against mat’s chest with a hard finger.” mat internally: [chanting] top me top me top me

“the stormy meeting with rand had gone on till the sun set” i wonder what happened in mat and rand’s fade-to-black stormy meeting that lasted until sunset 👀

melindhra is evil [pretends to be shocked] (i’d already been spoiled on it but i’m certain i would’ve been able to guess even if i hadn’t) poor mat is so traumatized from having to kill her :((((

“i am the car’a’carn, remember.” “you have shaving lather on your ear, rand al’thor.” they are so married

aviendha defending her brother-husband when asmodean suggests that mat killing melindhra is the reason the maidens are mad 🥰

“amazingly, [moiraine] gave mat a warm smile” MOMRAINE

“you have changed from the boy i first saw outside the winespring inn” MOMRAINE

lanfear really said If I Can’t Have Him No One Can

“he could end it. only, he could not. he was going to die, perhaps the world would die, but he could not make himself kill another woman.” interrupting my bullet list because only a picture can express my feelings about this:

thank god moiraine has a braincell and yeets lanfear through the ter’angreal

i’m 100% confident that moiraine is fine. no body no death! and i’ve heard about things she does that have not happened yet therefore she’s still alive

lan and rand’s reactions though 😭😭 but please lan, i know you’re Going Through It but please don’t give rand your terrible “you and i bring nothing but pain to the people we love, you should push everyone away” relationship advice as your parting words, the boy is emotionally fucked up enough already

moiraine’s letter to rand 😭😭😭 MOMRAINE!! and rand crying 😭😭😭😭

sulin’s verbal ear-boxing to rand over his dumb hangups over women in battle was much needed, but sadly it didn’t really change his opinion, only convinced him there was no point arguing with the maidens. rand’s concern for the maidens and valuing their safety over the other societies’ would be so touching if it came from a place of them being his Family and the aiel he’s closest to instead of just being because they’re women

“i thought maybe they were going to go in one at a time and kiss you out of your miseries” mat you’re projecting, i know you’re the one who wanted to go in and kiss rand out of his miseries

mat saying “i like canoodling as much as the next man but don’t you think there are a few too many people watching” when rand and aviendha are having a Moment jdkfjg he really said “are you serious? right in front of my salad?” and this from mat of all people who you would think wouldn’t give a shit about other people’s pda. he’s totally jealous

there are some sort of matrandlayne rights here in the fact that mat and rand are breaking into elayne’s palace together the same way they both did separately in the past

“now i find i truly like the sight of you on your knees” moghedien that’s gay

“nynaeve took hold of the silvery leash where it joined the collar and pulled the forsaken’s face close to hers” nynaeve that’s gay

fat little man angreal my beloved. if rand ever loses that little guy i’ll be devastated.

so rand can enter tel’aran’rhiod without a ter’angreal? and i believe mat will eventually reunite with elayne and nynaeve who have ter’angreals that can be used even by someone who can’t channel. are you thinking long-distance cauthor because i’m thinking long-distance cauthor! no i don’t care if nynaeve says rand loses part of himself by entering tel’aran’rhiod this way, how else is he supposed to call his boyfriend, nynaeve?

i was so convinced rand was gaslighting me when he kept insisting he’d entered tel’aran’rhiod back in tear because i had 0 memory of any such thing, but as i was typing out my complaint i remembered that must’ve been what he did in his final battle with ishamael lmao fuck man too much Stuff happens in these books, my memory cannot possibly retain it all. also that battle with ishamael was confusing as hell to me and i don’t think i realized that entering tel’aran’rhiod was what had happened, i was just kinda like “all right rand left this plane of existence somehow, cool, moving on”

nynaeve and rand’s reunion healed and hurt me at the same time. they’ve both changed so much since they last saw each other 😭😭

i already made a post weeping over rand reuniting with not-dead aviendha and mat but i simply must reiterate how much it made my heart swell!!!!!

also, certain book readers were seriously complaining about nynaeve’s “fakeout death” at the end of 1x08 when the entire ending of tfoh is the way that it is LMAOOOO possibly the best example yet of “turns out things book readers criticized the show for were already present in the books but so much worse” (not that i’m bothered by fakeout deaths personally, if i had it my way no characters i like would die ever) (the other biggest example is certain readers saying that the relationship drama in the show was petty and immature. how someone could say that with a straight face after reading the way LITERALLY EVERY RELATIONSHIP IN THE WHOLE BOOK SERIES is written is beyond me)

rand protectively watching over mat and aviendha chatting by the fountain together ❤️❤️❤️ randwich rights!

rand granting amnesty to male channelers and deciding to start a lil school! this is going to be a fun plotline

ASMODEAN!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

oh asmodean we barely knew ye. gone far too soon. rip king. i’m genuinely so pissed off about this actually, there is so much wasted potential!! he had the potential to be SUCH a fascinating character with SUCH a fascinating relationship with rand, but it was barely explored. URGH!!! curious to know who killed him tho, you would assume it was another forsaken but that almost seems too obvious............

[dreamrecorder]

Two - Family in the Inn

Witnessing your first five years of life, Xiao concludes that you are a keenly perceptive child.

One

Notes: Lookie~ a part two!! If you read Playing with the Wind, then you know who Brother Wind is ;) i will add the cut thingy tomorrow ksks

At the dead of the night, whispers float here and there with words that no mortal can hear and understand. They were faint, yet there was a thrill of excitement in these words. And just like the excitement the words carry, the winds pick up in a gentle and playful breeze.

To any mortal, all they would hear will be the rush of air that rustles the leaves and branches. However, there is a certain lad who hears them all. He hears the glee in these whispers tossed back and forth among the winds. He hears the wind spirits and he listens with a strum of his lyre.

Brother Wind! A child! A child!

We see a child, Brother Wind! We see a child!

A child under our brother, Demon Wind's Golden Wing!

We hear a sibling! A sibling!

Brother Wind! Do we have a new kin?

Ah, these spirits, always excited at the prospect of a new sibling. But the lad can't blame his kin for the wind spirits are always playful and innocent by nature.

Witnessing your first five years of life, Xiao concludes that you are a keenly perceptive child. He does this conclusion during a quiet night at the balcony of their home, Wangshu Inn.

Every night was a simple routine- wherein Xiao would carry you in his arms and sing a lullaby to lull you asleep. After which he would tuck you into your waiting bed, then he would go out to protect Liyue again. But for tonight, that simple routine was broken down by cheerful whispers of the wind.

Usually, Xiao would ignore these, knowing that these spirits wanted to simply mess and play with him. And usually the result would be the said spirits pestering him even more until Xiao just gives up and vanishes without a trace.

When the breeze picked up and the first wave of whispers came, what Xiao didn't expect was you to bolt right away from his hold and chase these spirits around shouting, "Wind spirits! Wind Spirits! Gēgē, can you see them?!"

At your gleeful eyes, the gentle breeze picked up in a brief moment of rush as it whispers,

They see us! They hear us!

Do you want to play with us, Little Wind?

Brother Demon Wind, can we play with Little Wind?

Of course, seeing the joy in your eyes, Xiao can't help but allow play time with a soft smile. Yet, he does not fail to remind you of your bedtime, "An hour, alright? Then you have to go to bed."

At his words, you beamed at him. Your little legs ran and with tiny arms, you hugged his legs. Looking up you exclaimed, "Thank you, gēgē!"

Ah but before you can run back to the winds, Xiao gently tugged your arm and grabbed your attention.

"Name?"

"Yes, gēgē?"

For a brief moment, Xiao carefully thought through his words. Your spiritual awareness... was quite alarming for him. "How did you know these are wind spirits?"

You hummed a bit as your body swayed in thought. "I don't know! But they feel like I played with them a lot of times before! Like-! Um, like..."

Then you're back to humming as you look for words with your brother patiently waiting.

"Aha! Like how you would play with me with your anemo!! Can I play with them now, gēgē?"

Another smile and another yes, you were now free to play with the wind!!

Play with us! Play with us, Little Wind! Thank you brother Demon Wind!

From that, Xiao concludes that you are a perceptive child. No mortal can even sense the most simplest of spirits, yet you felt them off the bat just because how much time the two of you played with his anemo. No wonder you learned quickly of his being as an adeptus. Worrisome, maybe? For such spiritual awareness also includes unkind spirits. But, at least he knows he can trust the Thousand Winds to look after you.

~~~

You were back in Liyue Harbor again, this time with your father. Since this was your second time, you were not familiar with the harbor yet. Thus, you kept close to your father as he bought the books needed for your upcoming education.

Books never failed to claim your interest, as they are always filled with stories that makes your imagination bloom in wonder. As such, books also never fail have your interest over them wane. However, for once, your interest was stolen by a cheerful voice singing along the strums of a lyre. Looking around, you find the source of such music. You couldn't see the singer, but with curiosity, you started moving towards the lull.

Thanks to your brother's anti-social skills and your small frame, you somehow got to slip through the crowd with ease as you let out occasional excuse me's. At first, the density was intimidating, but your curiosity for the bard and his voice became your motivation.

However, despite your best efforts, you didn't get to see the performance as the crowd began applauding and then going onto separate ways. To say the least, you were saddened, but when you saw the face behind music- happiness and recognition shone in your eyes.

"Brother Wind!"

Nobody- no mortal calls him that and Venti froze but thawing in an instant as he came to realization. There's only one person- one mortal who would call him that. A mortal that his kin would share stories about in glee.

"Little Wind?"

The winds always whisper words here and there. Yet these words that float amongst the leaves fluttering in the wind are never heard nor understood by mortal ears.

All except you.

The wind always tell you stories, and one of them is Brother Wind. A bard who hails from the City of Freedom and sings day and night with his words carried by his very essence. An essence you were familiar with when playing with the spirits and with your brother.

The Little Wind and Brother Wind meets! What joy! What joy!

Let us look for brother Demon Wind to tell and enjoy!

~~~

Seeing his little sibling walk hand in hand with the stupid bard had irked Xiao. With quick and agile movements, Xiao picked you up and glared at the grinning Venti. He whispered angrily at the wind, to which only the Archon can hear. Your status as Archon be damned but I am not letting you near him/her if you still have your ridiculous drinking habits.

Oh come on, Xiao! You know I would never drink in front of a child, much more in front of your little sibling!

Xiao only glared some more but Venti only kept grinning and you are getting weirded out by their contest. Probably an adult thing, you thought.

Throughout Venti's stay in the inn, it had become an embarrassing ride for Xiao. The former would poke fun at him every now and then about how he's gone soft and Xiao is this *close* to kicking him out. But he can't becuase of how suddenly attached you became to the bard. And maybe- maybe there was this twinge in his heart.

It was something that happens occasionally. A thought of doubt resurfacing in his head whenever he's alone while battling the hidden evils of the land. With geniune honesty, Xiao feels truly blessed to have you- but there are times in the darkest pits of his head, that everything he has right now- he does not deserve.

Venti would make for a better bro-

"Hey, Name, among me, the spirits, and Xiao, who's the best playmate?" Venti asked you as you colored on your notebook.

And without even missing a second, you shouted that one word again that pulled Xiao away from the dark thoughts that were about to resurface.

"Gēgē!"

But you didn't stop.

"Gege is the best in everything! He lets me play with his anemo always! And then when we play, he always lets me choose the game first and then we take turns choosing! Not only play time! There's also story time! Gēgē has the best stories! He told me stories about the glaze lillies, the Geo Archon, and the Adepti!

And then we always eat Almond Tofu if it's story time! It's so yummy and sweet and soft! Even Achi Xiangling and mama, papa and Uncle Yanxiao love gēgē's Almond Tofu! You have to try it too Brother Wind!"

All that and you finished with a proud huff of your breath!!

And all throughout, Xiao could only look at you wide teary wide eyes with mouth agape. Seeing him, you pouted, "G-gēgē, d-did I say something wrong?"

At your question, he quickly snapped out of his stupor and hugged you tight. "You did nothing wrong." He quickly reassured as he kissed your forehead.

"Then why are you crying?"

Xiao then wiped his eyes and chuckled lightly, "This is what you call happy tears, Name."

"I didn't make you sad then?"

Again, Xiao hugged you close and he felt your tiny arms do the same, "You made me the happiest than you would ever know since the moment you were born. I- I love you so much, Name."

"I love you, too, gēgē!"

Venti and the Thousand Winds had etched this moment in their memory forever. After all, this was the first time they saw their brother Demon Wind experience and reciprocate pure, genuine love to another. And on the notebook you were coloring on, was a rough drawing of you and Xiao sharing a fresh plate of almond tofu <3.

A/N: and thats it for the second ksks!! I wonder what comes next??? To those who ship xiaoven- i'll say sorry in advance bcos in terms of background relationships- it's venti and zhongli, the old geezers ksks i just love those two together lmao

Taglist: @hanniejji @suckerforgenshinboys @arson-frog-art @anime-read-write-repeat @kryzi

if you wanna get tagged just send an ask^^

[talktomeinclexa]

Mend The Heart You Broke (Heal The Wounds You Caused)

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None in this chapter, Panic attacks, Depression, Suicidal thoughts in other chapters

Status: WIP (6/9)

Summary: Clarke and Lexa led the perfect life. Married, two children, a big house, a group of reliable friends. Until Lexa cheated on her wife and the idyllic picture was smashed to bits. Three months later, Clarke is still trying to put the pieces of her heart together when Lexa slowly comes back into her life. The path to forgiveness will force the artist on a self-introspection journey that won't leave anyone unscathed. But isn't true love worth the fight?

***

Chapter 6: Come Home

Life thrives on being unpredictable. A lesson that Clarke should have learned by now. Yet, when her phone rings with another unexpected news, she is caught by surprise.

Dring dring

“Clarke Griffin-Woods speaking.”

After kicking Lexa out, she tried to go by “Griffin” again, only to burst into tears at the first call she received. Since the divorce is on permanent hold — and she doesn’t feel the need to let everybody and their cousins know about the state of her marriage — she reverted to her married name without too much heartache.

“Hello, Ms. Griffin-Woods. This is Marcus Kane, the owner of Arkadia, the gallery downtown.”

“Mr. Kane, hello. What can I do for you?”

She has had the occasion to visit the gallery a few times over the years. It’s not the MoMA or the Guggenheim, but it hosts an extensive collection of local and international artists on their way to fame. They have crossed paths in previous exhibitions and social events, one of Clarke’s former teachers doing the introductions.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I recently decided to expand and acquired the building adjacent to Arkadia. In order to celebrate this and the new artists who have signed up with my gallery, I plan to organize a large exhibition for Christmas. And I was hoping you would like to take part in it.”

Clarke’s heart hammers against her ribs at the thought. Her name has gained some traction in recent months, and she has had more commissions than ever before. But to take part in an exhibit in Arkadia? That would put her on the map. Both a thrilling and terrifying prospect.

“That’s a very enticing offer, Mr. Kane. What would it consist of exactly?”

“Well, I currently have space for four of your paintings. Possibly more, depending on a couple of answers I’m still waiting on.”

Four of her paintings. Clarke’s mind goes on overdrive as she reviews the ones she has in storage or ongoing. With most of them being commissioned, she has only two pieces that could be submitted. None of them good enough, she fears, to fit the bill should critics be there. She can’t miss this chance to shine and take her career to the next level.

Enthusiastically accepting the challenge and thanking Mr. Kane for thinking of her, she wonders how to tackle the main hurdle in her path: finding time to paint while raising two children.

The following Sunday finds her nurturing a glass of wine at Raven’s, the Latina and Octavia listening to her with rapt attention.

“That sounds like an amazing opportunity. It’s what you’ve been dreaming about for years.”

“I know. Obviously, I said yes. But how am I going to manage with the twins? They are at day camp right now so it works, but what will I do once they are back in school? I’ll have to pick them up at three most days, and with the chores and my other commissions, it won’t leave me much time to prepare for the exhibit.”

Octavia hums as she brings her glass to her lips and swallows a sip of red wine. If someone can understand Clarke’s dilemma, it’s the cop married to a firefighter. Her and Lincoln’s shifts were a nightmare to synchronize at the beginning of their careers and even worse once they had Chris and Aurora. Clarke babysat them more than a few times over the years when a nanny canceled at the last minute. Things are easier now that Indra — Lincoln’s mother — is retired. But knowing how much of a handful Aurora can be, the artist doubts Indra will be willing to take care of the twins too.

“I wish I could help,” Raven starts, sensing she might be the only available option, “but I’ll be working on an important project in the coming months. I know that Anya will be happy to have them here from time to time, but it can’t be more than occasional.”

Clarke leans heavily against the back of her chair, bracing herself. Raven has proven to be more open-minded about the whole situation than expected, but Octavia wasn’t shy about her anger toward Lexa before. Which makes sense considering that her father cheated on her mother and then took off, never to be seen again.

“Don’t worry, I understand. Actually, I was thinking about asking Lexa to move back in.”

Keep Reading

[the-blind-assassin-12]

writer wednesday #12 - 8/3/2022

Hi everyone!! I hope you’re all having a good week so far and that you’re staying cool during this scorching hot summer. I’m back to my weekly recs after finishing the #fourteendaysofreading challenge (go check out that page for tons of stories from MULTIPLE fandoms!) and I’m super stoked to shoot about these three great stories, so let’s cut yo the chase, shall we? Here are three things I read this week that made me say “wow, that was great!”:

*as always, this list is ordered by length.*

Still Chasing For That Feeling by @something-tofightfor

Joel Miller x various characters / x Female Reader

A look at Joel’s past love life 

WC: 2k

Truly understanding Joel Miller means understanding all of the things he’s gone through and chosen and gained and lost - and this piece so perfectly encapsulates those things as they pertain to his former and current relationships. It is heartbreaking to know that he has had to withstand so much pain and guilt, so many touch decisions and circumstances that were beyond his control despite his best intentions and efforts. But the fact that even when he tries to close himself off to these types of relationships (the kind that hurt too much to lose) he can’t resist letting Ellie and eventually Reader in gives me so much hope that he can have the happiness he’s been denied for so long. It means that he hasn’t given up on himself yet, and that’s huge. I love that man to smithereens, heartache and all.  

Cognitive Dissonance Ch. 1: Never Realized I’d Been Here Before by @prolix-yuy

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Female Reader

Westworld x Kingsman Golden Circle AU (!!)

WC: 2.2k

HOWDY AND HELLO! WHERE ARE ALL MY YEEHAW FRIENDS? ARE YOU READY FOR A ROOTIN’ TOOTIN’ PISTOL SHOOTIN’ GOOD TIME? If the answer to that question is yes, then this one is for you. This is 110% the Crossover AU I didn’t know I needed until now and I am THRILLED that it’s here. I don’t want to give away the premise (because when I got to the first little *insert* within the story I was like “OH HOLY HECK!!” so I don’t want to spoil it for anyone.) but let’s just say I cannot wait to see what happens next. I love all the details and the parallels to WW S1, and I am very much looking forward to seeing more of how these two casts of characters interact as these two incredibly fun universes combine. 

Into the Shade Part I: You, The One I Left Behind by @brandyllyn

Ezra (Prospect) x Female Reader

Soulmates AU!!

WC: 3k

The warning for this one includes the fact that Ezra is not a very nice guy. And lemme tells ya: Can confirm. In fact, he is a con artist who specializes in romancing his targets and taking their bank accounts for a ride. Does this make me any less attracted to him? No, it does not - especially when, even though he’s been given a meaner streak here - he’s written so well from his movement to his dialogue. Does it make me even more attracted to him? Maybe, but that’s a topic for another post. This first part has got me so incredibly hooked. I love the concept of this soulmate AU - with pairs sharing identical markings and scars - and cannot wait to see how it unfolds... and if Ezra’s mean streak continues or if his current mark makes him go soft. 

[networksupported]

"I am quite certain nobody is looking for me."

They brush their skirt down, fingers hesitating at the edge of the hem, then bunching it up tightly between their fingers as they continue. But their voice, when they finally do use it, is the same calm, measured tone as before.

"The grounds on which I am a child are removed in a large part from the actual truth- and I am removed in such from my body, and the...vessel of sorts I am inhabiting. And as such, I have reason to believe that he who was once my father and she who was once my mother are in similar ways impacted- I am sure now they have greater concerns than my wellbeing- in fact, I am not certain they know I exist at all, anymore. So. I am not entirely perturbed by this prospect. And, indeed, were they, or indeed anyone, to come looking for me, perhaps my chances of being found would be heightened by staying in a single, relatively-easy-to-access place for any length of time.

That is what my father always told me to do if I were lost, after all. He was a wise man. He taught me much that was helpful- like about tornados, in my own expertise. I think I can trust his judgment now- and, if I may, I would be willing to share anything of his that he has imparted upon me with you. I have found it helpful in many occasions, and I can only pray the same will be the case for you.

 A pause.

"As for your... companion, I certainly know of her. She does sound a very exciting figure, but I can see how her more 'freaky' side might come to light in person, so I shall be prepared to brace myself if the time ever comes to meet her. I have to confess, though- the prospect is actually starting to excite me. I quite enjoy being excited- I can by far understand why some people chase the sheer thrill of it now. I am- oh, you must forgive me, I'm quite all over the place. I can hardly string two thoughts together, so I have to give you my utmost apologies- I fear this is all coming out in a bit of a mess. I don't normally converse with people, you see. Bit out of touch is all. I suppose what I'm really trying to say is I do appreciate your concern- I do, greatly. In fact, I appreciate it so much I have consulted these thoughts with myself, and I do concur if it's possible that staying with you and your companions might still be the best- or perhaps the safest, though I would not go so far as to state that without some more consideration- option.

If there is anyone here who needs me, I know they will be drawn here eventually- or, if the universe prefers, I will be drawn to them.

Hopefully it is not before we discover the ocean, however. Or I get to investigate some of your fascinating buildings. Or perhaps even see a zombie in person. The world is full of such possibilities that I cannot help but want to see them all!"

 They clasp their hands together, idly bounding between standing on their toes and flat on the ground. There's a certain rush to their voice now, a certain almost hope in their eyes- dampened in part by dignity and repression, but still shining nonetheless in its almost childish naivety.

@parables-for-days // X

"I see."

The stranger nods.

They appeared, in further consideration, to be about eight years old and dressed up as if for some eight-year-old's type of celebration- wearing a very neat party dress belted with a clean white ribbon, their bright white hair held back by a similar spotless tie - but there was something so very...unnatural about it all. Perhaps it was the lack of color everywhere, anywhere but their light brown hair or their deep brown eyes, or maybe it was that there was a look those their eyes of someone- or something- much, much older. Had Timmy been a normal, living, human being, their gaze would have been one that penetrated him as if he were a ghost- as it was, it took a few blinks for them to even seem to register him at all.

They clear their throat, as if in an apology of sorts, and settle down on a nearby desk, one leg crossed over another, fingers (that were far, far to clean- whoever heard of an eight year old having such clean, neat hands?) picking some nonexistent fluff from the hem of their skirt.

"You have nothing to be afraid of, sir." continued the child, in the sort of tone people normally at funerals-- and not even the reassuring bits of those.

'YOU HAVE SO MUCH TO BE AFRAID OF', their gaze says in rebuttal. 'I HAVE SEEN THE TIME AND DATE OF YOUR DEATH, ET CETERA, ET CETERA. I KNOW YOU HAVE ALSO SEEN THE TIME AND DATE OF YOUR DEATH, WHAT WITH YOU BEING A GHOST AND ALL, BUT I KNOW THINGS ABOUT YOUR EXISTENCE THAT ARE EQUAL IN TERROR TO THE LEVEL KNOWING THE TIME AND DATE OF YOUR DEATH IS TO NORMAL ALIVE HUMAN PEOPLE, AND SO YOU SHOULD PROBABLY CONTINUE BEING AFRAID ANYWAY. TLDR: WATCH OUT. WOO.'

"I have this message, you see. Just a message, nothing more-- you are doing the right thing and you have no need to worry, sir, please let go of your tie-- and I was told it was for the person in charge of here. But from your levels of consternation, I, even as a messenger with duties of my own, find myself growing incredibly afraid. I have not been long upon this Earth, and yet I already find myself drawn to your situation. Why are you so afraid, sir? Is there something wrong? May I help you in any way?"

They sit forward, resting their hands on their knees as their gaze- suddenly bright, suddenly more alert- seems to properly latch onto Timmy's.

[ushidoux]

Be My Last - Iwaizumi x Reader

Summary: You have trouble getting over a past relationship and it’s preventing you from moving forward. (~3.5k words)

Warnings: stubborn ass reader, very slight nsfw at the end

A/N: It took me a long time to write this because I have trouble with fluff and also trouble with characterizing Iwa lmfao, I might need a second watch. I hope you enjoy! Happy Thanksgiving!

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

---

“Are you serious?! Are you really saying no to this face?”

Your best friend was now leaning so far across the fast food dining table that she had practically climbed on top of it, holding up her phone just inches from your face to force you to take a better look at the picture of the blind date she had arranged for you. 

Your eyes crossed uncomfortably by reflex and you pulled back sharply to grab the phone from her and take a better look. On second glance, you had to admit that the guy standing next to Oikawa was quite good-looking, a couple inches shorter but with a sturdier build, sharper features and just enough scowl in his facial expression to intrigue you. 

In fact, he was exactly your type.

“Just one date,” your friend insisted. “You’ve been pining over your ex for almost a year now! You don’t have to fall in love but maybe a small distraction? Plus, double dates would be so fun, come onnnnn~”

Your friend was only rarely this animated so you knew she really wanted this but the idea of even considering romance again after being dumped so harshly before was so undesirable that you stubbornly shook your head instead and took another bite of your burger.

“___, please?”

You frowned, and your friend’s pout grew deeper once she realized there was a pretty good chance you wouldn’t budge about this. After all, you’d rejected every single person that so much as looked in your direction so effectively these past few months that it had essentially become an afterthought.

She leaned back in her seat, occupying herself now with picking out a particularly long fry off of the platter you were sharing, trying to minimize her disappointment. Despite how much she hoped you would say yes, she could understand why you felt the way you did.

“I’m sorry,” you offered, sipping on your drink. She let out a defeated sigh.

“Well, I’ll try to figure out a compassionate way to let Iwa now that you’re not interested. Honestly, Oikawa will probably be more offended by it than me.”

At this last comment, her eyes twinkled softly with a mild amusement and she started to text her boyfriend. However, knowing that it would possibly be a bigger deal to reject Oikawa’s best friend right off the bat than to just endure a date once, you reconsidered.

“Fine! Stop, I don’t need Tooru yelling in my ears. I’ll go.”

She smiled. You’d fallen right into her trap.

---

Exactly 72 hours later almost to the minute, you found yourself standing before the duo of childhood friends at the entrance of a town fair, your friend by your side.

Oikawa’s partner-in-crime was, to both your surprise and chagrin, even better looking in person. Kinder too, if you discounted the glare he shot at Oikawa when he introduced him mock affectionately as ‘Iwa-chan, his very best friend in the whole wide world’. You stifled a laugh as Iwa released Oikawa from a headlock, and introduced yourself politely to him noticing the very faint pinking of the ears that accompanied the softening of his expression as he shifted his attention to you.

A small fluster you couldn’t help but find cute was evident in his voice as he shared his full name - Iwaizumi Hajime. Strike one. 

Strike two was the careful distance he left between you two as you walked through the street fair, just steps behind Oikawa and your friend who trekked confidently and comfortably linked hand in hand. His questions were respectful but pointed, like he truly wanted to get to know you as much as possible, and as he listened he leaned in just so, making sure to hear you clearly over the bustle of the busy crowds.

He helped you with your safety belts as you strapped in together on small thrill rides and you could catch his furtive glances in the corner of your eyes as you laughed and screamed.

A part of you wondered if it was too quick, if it was a bad omen that he already appeared smitten with you despite having just met. However, you had missed the feeling of someone liking you genuinely and explicitly so, dating back from even before you had started having problems in your last relationship, so you appreciated it wholeheartedly.

Strike three was him immediately setting a time and a date to meet again, without the hovering presence of your best friends, which he emphasized loudly to listening ears behind you (Oikawa made his disappointment at being excluded quite apparent by groaning loudly within earshot).

“I really enjoyed spending time with you today, ___.”

It wasn’t too much, wasn’t too little and wasn’t too soon.

“So did I.” You replied with a smile more genuine than you’d had for months.

---

Date two went as smoothly as date one.

Dinner and a movie, a classic. Iwa had chosen a psychological thriller that you had been looking forward to for a couple weeks and prior to meeting you’d started to text back and forth regularly about theories, so thereafter sprang forth endless spirited debates. As the evening progressed, you noticed him yielding earlier and earlier, and you noticed that he got quieter as the night went on, preferring to sit back and watch you talk. You couldn’t tell if it was the few cocktails with dinner but soon you were distracted by eyes that rested on you easily with an accompanied smile. It was enough to make your face grow warm.

“Am I talking too much?” You asked, sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I get like this when I’m excited.”

“I love hearing you talk,” he replied with a small laugh. “No one can talk as much as Oikawa so don’t worry.”

Your smile spread from ear to ear and you could feel your bruised heart grow ever so slightly.

---

Date three, four and five had you swept off your feet and you found yourself falling between hikes, picnics and aquarium trips. 

Which was why when your friend called you to gloat about how she was right about you two all along, you realized just how deep you had fallen and almost instantly, that familiar fear that you had been nursing for the past year settled back into your consciousness.

You couldn’t bear another heartbreak. The thought of Iwa’s warm smiles becoming addictive and constantly craving the feel of his hands on your skin only to then be discarded like a participation ribbon hung heavy on you.

“I.. I don’t think I can keep seeing him,” you said, in sudden realization, despite the fact that you had been gushing about your dates just minutes earlier.

You could hear a pause on the other end of the line, and then your friend asked softly, “Is it because you still miss him?” 

The other him. Of course you did, you still lived in the apartment the two of you had shared right after college, having given yourself multiple excuses not to move out. You hadn’t even bothered to change the decorations you’d bought together and thus every part of this place reminded you of him. 

You even watered the plants he had left behind every morning. You couldn’t tell if it was because you had grown attached to them or worse - because you thought maybe, just maybe, if he ever came back, he’d want to know that you were always nursing your love.

“I’m… not sure,” you replied.

Your friend sighed audibly into the phone.

“You’re missing out on someone great, but I’ll support you regardless.”

---

Your graduate classes ended late the next evening, and you stumbled into your apartment with mild exhaustion, kicking off your shoes and slipping off your jeans before plopping on your bed.

Iwa had said he wanted to come see you, and even though just a few days ago you had been excited at the prospect of spending time with him in your own home, your stomach fluttered with a different type of alarm when you considered the fact that if you were to tell him you were no longer interested in letting whatever was between you bloom, it would have to be now.

Would it be better to tell him over text message or on the phone or in person? You didn’t want to see the look on his face when you hurt him; you knew it would change your resolve. 

If you called him on the phone, would you be able to withstand hearing the disappointment in his voice? Would he demand a reason, and would he tell you your weak one wasn’t enough?

If you sent him a simple text and then blocked his number, would you be the awful person too chickenshit to say the words to his face?

Your phone buzzed just as you were paralyzed with your choices.

I’m 20 minutes away. How was your class?

You froze.

20 minutes to make a decision. Would you have him come all this way just to drop him without a very good reason in the comfort of your own home?

You stared at your phone for five minutes longer, perseverating, only to be startled out of your trance when you saw his name flash over the front. You forgot you had read receipts on; it had never been a problem before.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice dripped of concern. “You read but didn’t answer.”

“Y-yeah, of course! Class was good… I’ll see you in a bit.”

---

You soon wished you hadn’t let Iwa into your apartment. Now that he was here snuggled with you on the couch, close enough that you could take in his scent, all you could think of was the thought of his lips on yours.

5 dates and you hadn’t yet kissed. Maybe that was for the best, you were planning to break up with him anyway, weren’t you?

You weren’t exactly sure when you had crept so close to each other, but your head now rested gently on his shoulder and his hand had at some point snaked around your waist to pull you against him. You could feel your heart pound in your chest as you stayed close in the dark, and maybe you could feel his own heart beat, steady as his breathing despite the tension building in the air.

You had lost track of the plot of the movie on your flat screen long ago, too preoccupied with the flurry of potential ensuing scenes between you in your head.

What would stop you from going full speed ahead? The fear that you wouldn’t matter enough to him once months came to pass and he learned just how far short you fell from his perfect perception of you? Or that you would once again find yourself in darkness, wondering how many times you’d open your heart only to wish you had kept it guarded?

Or maybe it was the reality that you weren’t sure that you really wanted to move on?

Iwa was a good person, he didn’t deserve your hesitation.

He shifted ever so slightly beside you and in the backlight of the flashing scenes on the television screen, you could see his eyes settle on your lips.

“Is it okay if we-,” he started, only to be interrupted by the fact that you had already pulled him in by the shirt collar and were lost in the taste of him on your tongue. You could tell he was surprised, but Iwa leaned into your kiss, pulling you now fully onto his lap and holding you steady by the waist as the two of you made out. 

Your hands crept up to his face, fingers gently trailing then cupping the curve of his jaw, and the longer you kissed, the more of him you wanted. When his hands started to tug just slightly at the edge of your shirt to warn you he was going underneath, you tensed but nodded to allow him to palm a breast and roll a nipple between two fingers.

A soft moan left you, renewed when Iwa’s lips left your mouth to kiss a spot just before your earlobe, and his other hand pressed firmly into the small of your back to secure you even closer to him, close enough that you could feel his bulge pressing through his jeans and against your body. Knowing that you could feel him, he whispered breathily into your ear:

“I won’t continue if you don’t want me to.”

Did you want him to continue?

You pulled back from him to study his face, glowing with an earnest desire for you and suddenly you felt so guilty. 

“I… I think we should stop here,” you choked out, ignoring the warmth in your cheeks and the flicker of disappointment in his face, and you slowly climbed off him, embarrassed as you stood on your feet.

He didn’t ask why and replied with acceptance.

“Okay.”

---

What he didn’t accept was you finally telling him you no longer wanted to see him in a text message hastily conjured in the middle of the night after a particularly hard day.

He called immediately and you let the phone ring, biting your lip the entire six rings it took for him to give up. He didn’t leave a voice message, but sent you a short text.

I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Can we please talk?

You fought back the urge to cry as you turned over to go to sleep.

He called again in the morning, and when you ignored his call for a second time, the unreasonable part of you waited for a follow-up voicemail or text message which never came. Good for you. You couldn’t understand your own feelings right now and you didn’t deserve to have him sort them out for you.

At least if you acted like a bitch, he would drop you before you could change your mind.

---

“A text message? Really?”

Your friend had dropped by the following Saturday morning for brunch and while you had dreaded this conversation, you had expected it to happen and steeled yourself for the admonishment. You shrugged, avoiding looking at her in the eyes and focusing on watering the plants at your windowsill. Your friend watched you carefully, irritation bubbling within her in response to your stubborn silence.

“I wouldn’t be so insistent if I knew you didn’t like him, but you do! Everyone can see it!”

You didn’t reply, opening your blinds instead. Plants needed lots of sun in addition to water.

“___, I didn’t want to be harsh but he’s not coming back. Even if it’s not with Iwa, please… please get over him.”

You finally turned and gave her a meaningful look, tears now coming to your eyes. Your friend’s mouth fell slightly ajar and realizing just how harsh her truth had been, she got up from your kitchen table and walked over to you to envelop you in a hug as you came undone.

---

A total of three weeks passed, and you finally admitted to yourself that you missed Iwa but it was clearly too late to fix anything. Calling him up would just get you ignored (and rightfully so) and you couldn’t bear to send another text message after ghosting him. Instead you watered your ex’s plants and focused on your classes.

Your best friend had forgiven you for your cruelty even though she let you know she was still suffering from Oikawa’s wrath on your behalf, so instead you decided to distract yourself by going out with other friends and picking up new hobbies.

A girl you were getting to know from class was very excited about a new high-end gym that had opened with nice amenities including a pool and a sauna and free physical training sessions with membership so you indulged her by going as a guest on a weekend.

You had to admit that the place was beautiful, and you made a beeline for the elliptical, a tried and true contraption. She had been making a fuss about one of the instructors being attractive which you had in all honesty paid very little attention to, until she dragged you by the arm to hiss into your ear.

“There he is, don’t look too obviously.”

You turned to find yourself staring straight at Iwaizumi Hajime, physical trainer.

“Oh shit, he’s looking at you,” she whispered, but you were already making your way to the exit. “Wait, where are you going?”

Your pace had gone from a walk to almost a run.

“____!” you heard him call behind you as you scurried as fast as you could off of the premises. Embarrassing. So, so embarrassing.

His voice was starting to sound aggravated, and your run stuttered to a standstill. What were you doing? Running from someone because you told them you didn’t want to date them?

He caught up to you in the parking lot and he no longer smiled; there was a tinge of mild irritation that graced his facial expression as he looked at you.

“Please stop running from me. You don’t need to make it awkward… I... I’m not thinking about it.” He glanced away at the last statement, but you knew he was being sincere while you were being ridiculous.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, and you thought maybe you would say more but he cut you off.

“You don’t have to be sorry. Have a good workout. If you need any help, I’m available, as are the other instructors.”

Professional and curt, he bowed before turning, and before you realized what you were doing, you found yourself tugging onto the sleeve of his shirt to hold him back. When he looked back to you again, while he didn’t give you the fierce scowl he reserved for Oikawa, his expression was still harsh as he looked down at you, waiting to see what you had to say.

What did you want to say? You already said you were sorry, there wasn’t much else to add.

Words failed you and you recoiled ever so slightly. He sighed audibly, and turned fully to face you.

“___, please don’t play with my feelings.”

You deflated as he waited just a few more moments for you to come up with the courage to say you still wanted him, and when you were unable to come up with the words, he bowed again, and returned to the building. 

Moments later, you texted your friend to tell her you were sorry, but you were going home immediately.

---

It was a few minutes past 9pm and you had all but forgotten the sting of Iwa’s words as you focused on homework, listening to lo-fi music to help you concentrate. Your phone buzzed once, and you expected maybe your classmate to yell at you again for ditching her, but instead you found a message from Iwa. 

I’m sorry for speaking to you that way.

Your heart thumped hard once in your chest, and you flipped your phone over to get back to work, but it was too late. Your concentration was shot for the night.

I’m ready to listen to whatever you have to say, a second message read.

What would happen if you wore your heart on your sleeve just one more time? 

Iwa called you before you could call him, and this time you picked up, breathing a hesitant “Hello?” into the phone.

“___, I like you. A lot,” he paused, as those words sank into your heart. “I’m sorry, I wanted to get that out of the way.”

“I do, too,” you replied just as quickly. 

Another pause. You swallowed hard and continued,

“I just don’t want to hurt you.”

His reply was fast. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

You frowned. “You don’t understand… I still think I have some unresolved feelings for someone else, and I just… I don’t want to wrong you in the long run.”

Another pause. You pressed your eyes shut, anticipating the worst, whatever it was. It felt as though you were on the line for ages, until suddenly Iwa finally spoke.

“Try me.”

“What?” Your shock was audible, and he repeated himself. 

“Use me if you need to.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. 

“But-”

“I know we’ve only been seeing each other for a short time, but I can’t explain it… I know I’m willing to risk it.” The confidence in his voice was almost shocking, and it made your heart swell. 

“Hajime…” 

“May I come over?”

---

The conversation ended with Iwa promising you that he’d make you forget your ex, your faces now just inches from each other, him hovering above you as you laid on your back in the comfort of your bed, eyes feasting on his exemplary physique. Starting up where you left off just three weeks prior, you held onto him for dear life as his hips rolled against you, his body pistoning into you carefully and precisely, his hands gentle and steady, and both of your hearts full.

If you were worried about using him, then don’t. Use him as much as you need to. He was giving you permission, is what he said.

Would you take advantage of him? 

Now that you were in his embrace, you found it unlikely: for the very first time in a year, you knew that while you weren’t in love yet, you could feel yourself falling very, very soon.

[fandom-monium]

For the Holidays - Part 2

Summary: In which Spencer doesn’t want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “It’ll be nice... having a friend there.”

WC: 1.8k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), insecure and in-denial Spencer, light cursing, (tbh with all the shit that happens in CM they should be cussing way more)

Spencer doesn’t text you. But he’s tried.

First thing he got home, he tossed his bag aside and ripped off his blazer before he threw himself on the couch, digging through his pockets for his phone. Screw reading, taxes, dinner. There are more important things at stake here.

But he’s been sitting there for an hour, glaring at the empty text box with disdain, willing for words to appear.

No such luck.

Spencer writes essays and academic journals in an hour but formulating a simple text? He curses the universe for only making him academically gifted.

He runs a hand through his hair. Maybe he should call? No, you said text. And he doesn’t trust himself enough to have a verbal conversation with you. He will get tongue-tied.

Shit, what does he even say?

It’s not entirely his fault, alright? He’s never been put in a position like this before, except when he goes undercover. And even then everything is planned for him with little contribution on his part⎼he makes small edits to better fit the profiles but that’s about it. All he has to do is scan the file once and in seconds he has his fake identity, his fake backstory, and whatever fake details make up his fake life.

But this. This is different. He has to be brave because it’s you, and he has to chill out because this is supposed to be fake, he reminds himself. Both are tasks within themselves. And yeah, he’s a genius but as Albert Einstein once said, knowledge has its limits.

Shit, his thoughts are so jumbled he can’t even quote properly. This is all your fault.

You.

He still has to text you.

Spencer groans and flops on the couch, the phone clattering to the floor. He doesn’t bother, laying there until there’s an imprint of his butt in the cushions. He stares at the ceiling.

He remembers that you were the one to say yes. He hadn’t directly asked you but you agreed anyway, which means you are willing to spend time with him. Which means you like him (enough). Which means you are friends, and friends help friends out when they are in trouble.

Like needing a fake date.

He rolls onto his stomach, lips pursed as he stares over the edge of the couch. His phone glints in the lamp light.

Just friends helping each other out. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Spencer takes a deep breath and picks up the phone.

He can do this.

⎼

He can’t do this.

“I’m so excited,” Next to Spencer, you nestle into the seat and adjust the fuzzy blanket over your lap, eyes gleaming. “It’ll be nice to see where you grew up.”

Spencer only offers you a tight smile. His eyes dart about as the other passengers settle in, switching seats and fiddling luggage into the overhead compartments. Some of them already requesting for airplane food. Who in their right mind actually wants airplane food?

Spencer really wants to be as excited as you, and he is; he finally gets to spend some time with you outside of work, without the rest of the team hovering (waiting for one of you to make a damn move). It’s almost nice.

If only he can enjoy himself.

His knee bounces nonstop. Against the armrest his fingers tap a rhythm matching the thrum of his heart. And his hair is even more wild having run his hands through it repeatedly before meeting up with you.

He isn’t used to this, being alone with you. Sure, you partner up at work, in cases⎼hell, you've even accompanied each other to a few events. But those were as friends.

Technically, you’re his date. His romantic partner.

Spencer’s never let himself delve deep into his fantasies; he’s imagined (more times than he’d like to admit) taking you on dates to your favorite places, you in his arms, him in your arms⎼you know, minus the imminent danger. All the sweet things that couples do. But they always seemed out of reach. So he’d cut them off, squash the ideas before they went any further. False hope only hurts if you give in.

But now you’re on a plane, rocking in your seat as you hum to yourself, genuinely thrilled at the prospect of seeing his hometown.

This is more than he’s ever imagined. He feels like his heart’s about to burst.

Someone needs to call the bomb squad, real quick.

“Reid.”

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?" You're looking at him, voice drenched in so much concern his stomach twists. He made you worry. He feels guilty.

“Yeah-uh-” He clears his throat, attempting a smile. It’s a sad parody of the real thing. ”I'm fine.“

You raise an eyebrow and scoff, "Okay, I think I know why you're being weird. At least, weirder than usual."

Spencer’s heart drops. He leans back as you lean across your shared armrest, catching the sympathy in your eyes. He stiffens, bracing himself for the rejection. He should have known sooner or later you’d notice his not-so-friendly affections towards you. Of course you did, he isn’t exactly subtle; all the lunches, the museum tours, the stars in his eyes when you wrestle down unsubs⎼

"You’re nervous about seeing your old classmates again."

⎼Or, he’s much better at hiding it than he thought.

Spencer can only watch in awe as you continue, “And it’s totally natural. I mean, I haven’t been to a reunion, but I’d feel weird too if I got to see my classmates after all these years. But have no fear, (Your Name) is here.” You cringe, suddenly abashed. “Unless I’m completely off the mark and now you regret bringing me along. Oh no, that’s it, isn’t? You’re uncomfortable with the whole couples act.”

Spencer shakes his head, and for the first time since take off, he chuckles, “What? No, I’m happy that you’re here. And I couldn't think of anyone better to play my partner.” A relieved smile from you and he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. He fiddles with his sleeve. “But yeah, you got me. I am nervous.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie. You're here, next to him. That's more than enough reason to be.

If he had to be honest, between you and organizing the trip, he almost forgot about the reunion. Then again, he never liked reflecting on his high school years. For obvious reasons.

But your perception is a bucket of ice water over his head. Now he’s wide awake.

You’re doing this because you’re friends. You just want to help.

Friendship never hurt so much.

“I didn’t mention it before, but I’m sure you’re aware I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in school, being 6 years younger and all,” Spencer swallows the ache. You nod in understanding.

Bright, brown eyes meet yours. He bites his lip. “So, I appreciate you coming with me. It’ll be nice... having a friend there.”

A split second.

Spencer glances away as he says 'friend'. The word leaves such a bittersweet taste he has to hold back a grimace, look anywhere else but you. The word just doesn’t sit right with him.

If he hadn’t looked away, he would have caught the way your smile dropped.

You nearly forgot, though you’re on holiday, this is a mission of sorts. This isn’t about you or how you feel. This is about Spencer. You berate yourself, remembering you're not a teenager anymore; you're a fucking adult and mature adults don't squee at their coworkers.

No matter how cute and adorable they are.

“Of course,” You plaster on a smile and finger the edge of your blanket, unintentionally mirroring him. "Your welcome."

Spencer gives you that white-person smile you love so much. You have to bite back a laugh.

To distract yourself, you pull out your phone and open the Chess app, holding it out to him. "Now, how about that rematch?"

Spencer's face lights up like a Christmas tree.

And as you immerse yourselves into another close match, you feel your confidence grow with every move, chuckling as Reid grumbles about you cheating (you’re not, he’s just a sore loser). You’re an FBI agent, for fuck’s sake. You played spouse and romantic partners for weeks, months. A weekend is nothing.

You can manage playing pretend with a coworker. Just operate like this is any other undercover assignment.

You can pretend you’re in love with Spencer Reid. You can handle it.

You can handle it.

⎼

You can’t handle it.

As one would expect, it’s hard to not fall in love with Spencer Reid. Just as it’s hard not to show it.

It feels like only yesterday the lanky man quite literally stumbled his way into your world and you decided, ‘Him. I will protect him with my life.’ And while you’d totally do that for anyone on the team, with Reid, it hits different.

After you landed in Las Vegas, you had a couple hours to kill before the reunion started, and as the good friend and partner you are, you suggested he show you all the places he frequented when he was little. For research, of course. After all, you’re playing his partner, so the more you know the better.

It’s definitely not because you’re invested in his life. Because that would be unprofessional.

(The way he beamed at you was totally worth it though.)

Then one step in the direction of his favorite eatery and he slipped on a patch of ice. You caught him in time, but the way he looked at you, brown eyes wide and filled with awe, made you feel things you shouldn't feel for a coworker.

It only snowballed from there. Everything about him is just so… endearing.

But you’re at your limit.

Love and affection threatens to spill out of you. Your hands flex in your coat pockets, itching to grab Spencer’s pretty face. Even your chest aches from your heart having swollen twice its size. You feel like you’re about to explode.

This might be the most difficult mission you’ve ever worked.

But this is it, you realize as you stand in front of the closed auditorium doors. This is the final lap. Where everything you’ve practiced really matters. You just have to keep up the charade for a few hours, then you won’t have to struggle to fight back the hearts in your eyes.

Although, your clothes fit tighter than you remember and you’re trembling. Why the fuck are you trembling?

Next to you Spencer eyes the double doors, almost like he’s daunted by them.

Multi-colored lights filter into the dark hallway, silhouettes flickering and shifting from the crack under the door as cheery holiday music faintly streams from behind them, accompanied by shouts and laughter. From his old classmates. Who are most likely making jokes at his expense.

Spencer already wants to go home.

“Ready, Doc?” As if sensing his hesitation, you offer a smile and an arm to him. Your eyes gleam with resolve. It’s more than enough for the both of you.

You can do this.

A deep breath, he slips his arm into yours. “Yep.”

He can do this.

Together, you open the doors.

AN: 2/4?? 

note: don’t expect part 3 to come out as quick. it’ll contain panic/anxiety descriptions and id like to take my time to write it best :))) i hope you enjoyed the last bit of happiness for a while :))))

also i apologize that i havent gotten to all the requests!! the ones posted on my masterlist are the ones currently being dealt with, but i’ll get through them eventually thx for the patience :D

i remember seeing a post ab Hotch x Prentiss and I didn’t get it but watching CM over again 

i get it i so get it. when theyve both gone to each other’s homes? *tears up*

and my hate for seaver has been reinforced :)))))

[bailey-reaper]

Can you write about Iris hanging out with the ghost of her father? It’s sad these two never got to know each other in canon.

Apologetic Apparition

Notes: It's very sad that the story unfolds as it does and that we know so little about Klint or Lady B (it's an utter travesty that Capcom couldn't even be bothered to give her a name or some sketches in the artbooks). Perhaps if we'd gotten to see more of Iris's parents, it would have given us an idea of what they'd have been like as a family...

Content Warnings: angst; GAA spoilers

"Well here we are!" Iris announced proudly as she took off her welding goggles and looked down at her latest creation, "They're finished at long last, now I only need to test them to make sure they work!"

"I say, Iris, you've been busy at that crafting table of yours for some time," Herlock observed as he reclined on the chaise lounge in the centre of the room and propped his legs up on the fortified, locked trunk that acted as their coffee table, "What have you been up to, dear girl?"

She twirled around in her spinning chair so she could regard her roommate, "I've made something quite marvelous this time, Hurley!" in her hands were a pair of goggles.

"Goggles?" they hardly seemed 'marvelous', but he knew better than to assume such things; after all, one cannot judge a book by its cover, for to do so is to ignore the richness that lies within, "And what is special about this particular pair?"

"They should, if I've calibrated them correctly, give me the ability to see the lingering remnants of the deceased!"

"Oh ho! So you've crafted glasses that will enable you to see ghosts, have you? Quite an interesting idea, dear girl! Whatever inspired you to do such a thing?"

Iris fell silent for a few moments, then offered a small smile, "Oh... just a little personal project. I should very much like to test them! Could you possibly do me a favour, Hurley?" she tilted her head and looked at him with pleading eyes.

"...." how could he resist the dear girl's plea? Iris was the only person he truly considered family (of course his partner occupied a place that was quasi-familial, but it was an entirely different beast). With a fond smile, he held open his arms and nodded, "Of course, what can I do for you?"

Her reply was not what he had expected...

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

It was the dead of night, and they were crouched outside the imposing building where agents of the crown worked tirelessly to bring wrongdoers to justice –- or, the Prosecutor's Office by any other name. Hurley had his reservations when Iris told him where she wanted to go, but he also had a pretty good idea of where in the office she wanted to go and why.

He would not question it, this was something the dear girl needed to do.

After he had infiltrated the building and obtained a set of security guard clothes, he set about on a mock patrol of the premises; taking note of the number of other fellows currently present and making a few educated guesses with regards to their routes. It would be easy enough to smuggle the young girl inside if he did so swiftly and via the western exit.

It was as easy as he'd anticipated to bring her inside, "Right," he said softly, "Where are we heading?" despite already knowing, he would play the fool for now.

"Um... Hurley... would you mind if I went inside on my own?" she asked gently as they walked down a long corridor with numerous doors and plaques beside them. They had come to a stop outside one particularly imposing, nigh-medieval door; with a plaque that read: [Lord Barok van Zieks].

Sholmes smiled, "Of course... just knock on the door three times when you are finished, alright? I shall knock similarly if I sense danger. You must come with me without delay if I knock, alright?"

Iris nodded.

Then, she turned to the door and opened it with a key that Herlock had taken from the security guard's office. Stepping inside was a daunting prospect -- Mr. Reaper's Office was as imposing as him, perhaps more so in the dead of night with nothing but the moonlight spilling in through the large arched windows along the far wall. After taking a deep breath, she donned the goggles and activated them.

At first, nothing happened and she started to fret that maybe her calculations had been off and that she ought to have tested them somewhere more accessible before embarking on this particular visit-- then, she caught some faint glowing traces in the air.

She looked around the room and found a glowing figure stood with its back to her, looking up at the large portrait that took pride of place overlooking the office. It was difficult to tell anything about the form, save for that it was humanoid in shape.

"Why do you insist on keeping this portrait here, brother?" the figure said, in a voice that she discerned to be a male one, "Surely you ought to have had one of your own commissioned by now?"

"Um... excuse me? You there, by the portrait."

She'd never seen a ghost jump before, but this one certainly did twirl around with a start. As he turned, the form seemed to take a clearer shape and she realised he was the same as the man in the portrait – Klint van Zieks.

It was her father, just as she'd hoped.

"Goodness! You gave me quite the fright, young lady."

"Oh... I'm sorry," she looked down bashfully, only to be surprised when he laughed heartily.

"No, no, don't be! I'm simply surprised you can see me..." he cocked his head to the side, arms folded, "Might it be that curious apparatus you're wearing that enables you to see and hear me? No one else seems to..." she nodded, "Ah, I see... Pray, do forgive my presumptuousness, but, you remind me a great deal of my darling wife... I cannot think that is a mere coincidence."

It made her heart shiver to hear that, "... Um... yes, well, that would be my mother, sir, and you.. you are..."

"Then I'm... your father," Klint breathed, eyes wide, "Oh... So you are our sweet little starling..." for a moment he looked off to the side, smiling almost wistfully, "... Truly, you are a good man Genshin..." then he returned his focus to the girl, "Would you tell me your name, child?"

"Iris, sir, Iris Wilson..."

"Iris," he said, "A lovely name, very befitting of such a charming young lady. And, well, it seems you already know who I am..."

"Yes... I do," she knew full well, "I... I have so many things I want to ask you about..."

Klint nodded and walked over to the desk that had once been his and was now the place where his brother spent most of his time in stony silence, deeply engrossed in his work. He sat on it, legs dangling over the edge, "I'm sure you must have, I will try to answer to the best of my ability."

"... Thank you," she took a seat at the table that was currently home to the beginnings of a new diorama, presumably Mr. Reaper's latest case. For a few moments, she fell silent: her mind had gone blank. There were so many questions, but how to pick out just one? Where to begin?

"Perhaps I might start?" he offered, having clearly picked up on her overwhelmed state of mind. When she nodded, he started:

"As you know, my name is Klint van Zieks, I was born in North Devon. You've already met my little brother, Barok, your uncle, and much like you... he suffers a certain wistfulness when it comes to matters of family. It seems I've left you both somewhat at a loss. Do forgive me, Iris, I never intended to cause either of you the turmoil I have. I had always thought that keeping the truth from the two of you might spare you the embarrassment and stigma that knowing who I was would bring..."

She listened quietly, studying his face as he spoke. It was clear that his words were earnest, judging by their tone and the look of genuine remorse on his face.

"... I committed several heinous acts in life, and though I thought it was the right thing to do... it was misguided and naive. I sought to solve a problem by fighting fire with fire, but such an approach can only result in a destructive end. It cost me everything – including your mother, my darling wife... I was so thrilled when she told me she was pregnant, but at the same time I was terrified of what impact it might have had on her were I to tell her the truth. I did not want her or our unborn child to suffer... in the end, she died during childbirth. I cannot help but wonder if things would have been different if we'd been together in the family home with the necessary staff on hand to help her... I suppose I'll never know."

At some point as he spoke, tears had begun to bead in her eyes; then they spilled as she thought of the mother she would never know and the father who had tried to protect them – albeit with a limited degree of success.

"My apologies are meaningless, but I would like you to know how sorry I am for my failings as a man and a father, and the impact that has had on you, Iris... Your mother and I... we were delighted by the prospect of having a family, and I couldn't be more proud to see you before me as radiant as she was. You are so very like her..."

"... Thank you... I--"

Suddenly there were three sharp knocks on the door.

Iris covered her mouth, "Oh! I'm so sorry... I have to go!"

"Mmm," he nodded, "I understand, this office isn't the best place for a reunion... would you mind if I came to visit you at some point, so that you can ask me the questions you wished to?"

"... Yes, I would like that... please do come and visit me, I should like to get to know my father better -- not The Professor."

Klint blinked, then stood up from his perch and bowed, "As you wish..."