#ally desperately trying to take it back

[esthersinclair]

ally beardsley the person that you are

[sortanonymous]

I kinda got a fic involving one of these two to focus on (spoiler alert: it's the cooler one, and I don't mean the one HAL tried to make look cooler), but I'll just drop a meme like this and maybe save any possible rant for another day. Or hopefully someone else will beat me to that.

[thinkinonsense]

Bewitched: The Rake and The Risk

˖⋆࿐໋ james logan howlett ✦ bridgerton au series

bewitched masterlist

chapter two

cw: flirting (mix of 1800s and modern day), jealousy, old time thoughts of women and marriage, james is a slut

pairing: viscount!logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: sorry this is later than intended! i try to aim for a new chapter every friday but college is kicking my ass right now. next chapter will be longer!! also!! if you want to be tagged for the bewitched series please comment on the original bewitched masterlist post linked above this<3 there are so many of you lovely readers who want to be tagged and i need a more organized way to find everyone to add. sorry for the minor inconvenience. i appreciate every one of you!!

main masterlist

in all the twenty-nine years of knowing james howlett, lady chamberlain never would have pictured him coming to her home to ask about the eligible bachelorettes of the ton.

"what do you want to know, my dear?" lady chamberlain asked, sipping a cup of tea as the two of them sat in the living room.

"i am coming to you because as you know, my mother is expecting me to wed sooner rather than later and i was wondering whom might be the best women to seek out this season." james said, lying through his teeth.

if james really wanted to know who the best women this season were, he would've just opened the latest issue of lady cavanaugh. both of them knew this but it was more fun for lady chamberlain to tease the viscount.

"hm.." she smiles. "anyone in particular?"

"no."

the lie falls with ease. too much ease but lady chamberlain sees right through him.

"well, i did take note last night that the only lady you danced with was lady worthington's niece." she remarks slyly.

"the french girl?" he asks, playing coy. "i think i remember her."

lady chamberlain wasn't going to play games with the boy in front of her.

"i would hope so, you seemed quite fawned of her."

"i don't know if i would say that much."

"hm, so you don't want to know who she's planning to attended the mask ball with?" lady chamberlain smirks, knowing she's got him hooked.

everyone in the ton looked forward to the queens mask ball each season. it was the perfect way to help break the usual ice of finding 'the one'. that's where most couples tend to meet for the first time.

"let me guess..." james rolls his eyes. "prince harrison?"

lady chamberlain shrugs, placing her tea cup back on the dish. "the two of them talked quite a bit after you stormed off. she seems quite smitten with him."

"it's the first ball of the season. she has plenty of time to look for a better husband." he scoffs.

"well, dear... there are people who search their whole lives for something that's been right in front of them the entire time."

the elderly woman's words rang true in the room but james was far too in denial to notice them. instead, his ego was eating him alive. why would you not jump at the opportunity to be with the viscount?

˖⋆࿐໋

this afternoon was the queen's annual tea party. all the ton's debutantes gather to make friends and share their predictions for this season. anxiously, you paced the cobblestones outside, waiting for the carriage to pick you up.

"dear, it's not lady-like to pace back and forth." your aunt calls out from the doorway.

"my apologies," you reply, not stopping your feet.

"you're snagging the hem of your gown!"

thank heavens that the carriage was approaching. she waves you off, wishing you luck on your first adventure alone in the ton, wishing desperately she could join you.

your goal today is to make at least one friend. you'll even settle for an allied.

once you arrive at the queen's castle, you step inside. covered in soft pastels, flowers, and butterflies; you immediately feel calm. everyone is chatting and sipping tea at the tables. you sit down in the first available seat.

"you're the diamond, correct?" someone whispered next to you asks.

you turn your head to see a blonde girl to the right. she's wearing a soft yellow dress that doesn't quite fit her right.

"correct." you nod, offering the girl a smile to which she returns.

"shouldn't you be sat with the queen?" she asks, nodding to one of the beautiful girls surrounding the queen.

"probably but this was the first seat i saw." you joke, sipping on your tea.

the girl laughs with a small nod and introduces herself. her name is bridget and her father is a jewelry maker for the queen.

"i saw you dancing with the viscount last night at the ball." she smiles. "do you fancy him?"

almost choking on your tea, you shake your head.

"no, no, no. i don't fancy the viscount." you state.

bridget hesitates, watching your body language closely. the pressure gets you to speak up again.

"why do you ask?"

"because the viscount is a major rake."

the word rake rolls off her tongue with pure disgust. you'd never heard someone with such respect as a viscount be called something so dishonorable. rakes were known for their ability to seduce and lead on women with no promise of marriage.

"but he talks of his desire for a wife?" you question, more to yourself than to bridget but alas, she answers anyway.

"only because his mama is practically begging for a viscountess." bridget whispers.

you suppose this made sense due to the fact that most rakes never even intend to wed and after your conversation with james last night, he made it clear that marriage was not something he craved.

"trust me, you aren't the first lady to attempt to tie down the viscount. well, at least you have a shot since you're the diamond this season and all." the blonde girl rambles.

"oh, heavens no!" you repeat.

"hm, that's sad..." she sighs. "he is quite handsome."

"most definitely but i intend to wed for pure reasons."

"if that's truly the case, stay as far away from the viscount as possible."

˖⋆࿐໋

for the rest of the afternoon, bridget's words stuck to the front of your brain. if james wasn't so intolerable, perhaps he would make a good husband to someone.

once everyone finished with their tea, you decided to go sketch in wisteria park. the weather was beautiful outside and gave you the perfect inspiration needed to work on a new piece. normally, you would only draw on the sides of the letters written to your father back home. no one was more supportive of you than your parents. in a world where women mean nothing more than their wombs to society, it was rare to have parents who let their daughters have dreams.

sat on a patch of grass near the small pond, you set up your quill, small tray of paints, and paper. in the area where you decided to sit, across from you stood a beautiful cherry tree. as you work on the outline, you can hear footsteps approaching.

"i should've known i would find you here." a familiar voice says.

you don't even glacé up at the person near you, paying no mind to the man who seeks your attention most.

"do you want something, my lord?" you ask, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

james' head spun every time those last two words fell from your lips, sounding to pretty the way that they roll of your tongue.

"you may call me, logan." he says. "if you so wish."

"logan?" you cock a brow, finally looking up at him.

"it's my middle name." he replies awkwardly.

"hm..." you pretend to ponder for a moment. "that's far too personal for me."

" 'too personal'? how might that be?"

james stands arms crossed against the cherry tree, glaring in your direction. you don't rush to answer his question instead you continue adding details to the branches and trees. he huffs under his breath, clearly irritated your lack of interest in him.

"well, we have no intentions to be together this season and we aren't friends so, there's no need for nicknames and such." you reply nonchalantly.

"you don't know my intentions"

a sweet giggle escapes you. james brushes off the warmth flooding his chest, rather focusing on topic at hand.

"oh, i bet i do."

suddenly, you drop your quill and give him your undivided attention.

"why are you even here, james?" you sigh.

"i was visiting an old friend this morning and wanted a stroll through the park."

"an old friend?"

the words left your lips before you could stop yourself. james was quick to notice the tone shift. he smirks, walking over to you and sitting on the grass to your right.

"mhm..." he hums.

"is she viscountess material?" you scoff, returning to your scribbles.

"and why would you care?"

why did you care? it's not like the two of you really know each other; yet, something about james made your blood boil. perhaps it was how he has a near perfect life and somehow still complains. he has no issues in finding a partner because everyone wants him. if he didn't have his head up his own ass, he would realize that.

"i don't."

"sounds like you do."

james liked watching your face scrunch up at little with dislike for him. how your pressure on the quill increases. how you avoid his gaze. how you pretend he doesn't exist next to you.

"i don't." you repeat. "i just cannot believe that someone like you is complaining about having to take a wife when all the women of the ton are smitten with you."

"someone like me?" james pretends to be offended but he was too busy enjoying this riled up version of you.

"someone who never gone with unmet needs, never struggled financially, never been under minded or overlooked." your words come out sharp but james doesn't let them cut deep.

"look, sweetheart..." he squints those hazel eyes, glaring deep into your soul and leaning in closer than he should've. "you know nothing of my families struggles."

"and you know nothing of mine."

james was so close to you. your noses almost touching before you pull away. being within his close proximity made you feel a foreign warm tingle deep in your stomach.

thank heavens that the park was empty, minus the two of you. the last thing you needed was for someone to see the two of you this close and label you as one of the viscounts mistresses.

"i-i must get going." you stutter, collecting your belongings.

"where are you off to?" he asks.

"i'm supposed to be accompanying lady chamberlain and prince harrison to dinner this evening."

his face scrunches with distaste at the mention of the prince. also, why would lady chamberlain hide this piece of information from him?

"isn't it quite early to prepare for dinner?"

"i must look perfect for the prince." you smile.

but not at james. you're smiling for that no good excuse of a prince who couldn't see that you already were perfect.

"you look fine to me." he huffs.

"it's vocabulary like that, that keeps you from finding a wife."

"and to think it was my insufferable personality that kept the ladies of the ton away."

it's difficult to hide the laugh you want to let out. instead you bite down on your cheek, not giving him the satisfaction of your laughter.

"ha ha ha." you mock dryly.

"do you always have a stick up your ass?"

james question makes your jaw drop. never in your life have you heard a man speak so vulgarly.

"that's no way for a viscount to speak to a lady." you scold. he can't help but roll his eyes at your comment.

"i'm sure that a man has spoken even more colorfully to you."

"what are you insinuating, my lord?"

"that i highly doubt a lady such as yourself still has her virtue." he shrugs.

never has your head spun so fast at a single sentence. you couldn't fathom that a rake like him has the nerve to question anyone's virtue.

"excuse me, viscount howlett but my virtue is none of your business." you rage. "and you have quite the nerve to question it."

"and why's that?"

james was playing with fire but he didn't mind getting scorched by your flames.

"i've heard the stories about you."

"like what?"

"like what you do with the promiscuous women of the night." your words leave a smirk plastered on his face as he watches you intensely.

"don't act so innocent either." james hums. "i'm sure you've had your fair share of promiscuous adventures in france."

a flush of red hits at your cheeks. the last person you wanted to talk about promiscuous acts with is james. mostly because your lack there of. only your own hands have touched you so intimately.

james studies your facial expression before it clicks for him. he shouldn't ask. he really shouldn't. but come on, he has to.

"have you never—" his words come to a halt when there's a ruffled noise inching closer.

"i'm under no obligation to answer you, viscount howlett." you scold, collecting your belongings.

"hm... seems like you've already answered my question." his cocky tone sends you over the edge of annoyance.

"shouldn't you be more concerned with finding a wife rather than my virtue? this season will be over before you know it and you will need to find one sooner rather than later."

james admired the way you spoke with such sharpness. you were shy and reserved but the weight of your words were heavy. there was grace in the way you spoke and he loathed it.

he loathed how perfect you were. how absolutely perfect you would fit into his life. how perfect you would be at being his little wife. only needing to plan parties and open your womb to his child. he would never stop you from your dream of painting either. all he wants is someone who can handle the duties that come with being his other half.

by the time james snaps out of his thoughts, you are long gone. off to get ready for your date with a man who's twice as rich as him and much more likable. the only thing he could do is hope that nothing good comes from this dinner.

──★

i'll tag everyone else who commented in the morning when i wake up <3

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[getosbicth]

𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧. (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞.)

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

part 1: sharing is caring; part 2: dinner; part 3: devotion (coming soon!)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

His other lover left a message for you, carved into the flesh of your beloved, love-bites on his neck and scratches on his chest and back...

"I want to meet him."

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,876

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 18+ ONLY, NSFW! CONTENT, MDNI, infidelity, unprotected sex, cucking (just a lil), polyamory, threesomes, weird pillow talk

a/n: part two is out! decided to write a part three soon upon the request of an anon.

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.

He smells of cherry liquor when he returns home. He'd give the excuse he's meeting with his allies for staying out so late, plotting the downfall of Jujutsu Society and those damned higher-ups who cast him out as a child. But you know he only drinks whiskey and red wine, yet the bitter-sweet taste on his lips gets you drunk and you have no choice but to ignore the infidelity happening behind your back.

He'd call out his name when he's asleep. He dreamt of him so many times you'd lost count but stayed awake every night to see if something had changed- if he'd call out your name instead. Sometimes you'd wake him up, tell him he was yelling in his sleep and that it scared you. Then he'd kiss your forehead and apologize, pull you closer and hug you like you were the one he wanted to be with.

You'd find notes in his coat pockets, saying where and when to meet, it was as if he wasn't even trying to hide it. You knew, though, that this man your lover was seeing was a secret that could never come to light. You were the one by his side, you were the one everyone knew about. You held onto that belief like it was your lifeline, like it mattered at all when you knew your position was only temporary. A distraction from the cruel reality that Suguru couldn't be with him.

It turned you bitter. How sweet it must've been to meet each other against all odds, to still want to be close to one another after everything they've been through. To meet under the veil of secrecy, so intimate and heart-wrenching. You didn't want to share, yet it felt horrible to think about stepping in between them, knowing full well he wouldn't choose you in the end.

So you stay silent and taste the bitter taste of cherry liquor on his lips, smell the faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla in his hair. Your heart aches with the thought of sharing your beloved, the man you so deeply adored. Then again, it fuels a fire within you, something you've never felt before, and every night turns into a chance to prove your love for him. 

You surrender your body and your soul and he takes you for all you're worth, kissing you and loving you more and more passionately each time your bodies find themselves tangled in the cold darkness of your shared bedroom. You get addicted to the thought of him with his other lover, fully aware that, truthfully, you are the other. It gets you going and you become someone you don't recognize, you coax him into bed whenever you feel him straying. You make him feel so good he calls out your name in desperation, satiated and still craving more, you give, you give and you take from him.

You become malicious in the way you love him, taking control and denying him satisfaction, making him beg for it.

Until one night he comes home late, drunk and disheveled. You see the bites on his neck, the scratches on his back when he takes his shirt off and you feel rage boil in your blood. His other lover left a message for you, carved into the flesh of your beloved and your eyes tear up. How could he disrespect you so blatantly? You feel helpless and betrayed by a person you've never seen before, the one who took a part of your beloved already and was trying to take more.

“I want to meet him.”

You can tell you've just turned his world upside down with only one sentence because he freezes and then let's his hair down to cover the marks on his neck.

“Who?”

You're already naked in bed, waiting for him, but you stand up and walk over to stop him from putting on his T-shirt. You yank it from him and throw it on the ground, “He can't do this. I don't want to see it, Suguru.” You say with a wobbly voice, dragging your finger across the scratches on his chest.

He takes your wrist to stop you from touching him. “I don't know what you're talking about.” His eyes have turned cold and the emptiness in his voice makes your stomach turn with unease. 

“Suguru, I didn't say anything. I've let you be with him because I know there is no other way. But I don't want to have to see how he touched you and-” You feel sick to your stomach. “I want to meet him.”

His gaze softens and he hums, contemplating how to proceed. “How long have you known?”

You huff in frustration, not believing he thought you were that stupid when the signs were so obvious. He wasn't even trying to hide it and he had the gall to ask you how long you've known. “Since forever. That's why I believe I deserve to meet the man my lover is trying to hide from me.”

He chuckles, placing his hand on your bare back and tracing his fingers down your spine. “How do you think you two should meet?” He says and pulls you into him, fueling that fire in the pit of your stomach with every graze of his cold fingers against your burning skin.

You feel yourself mellowing out, “Dinner?” You whisper as he leads you to your bed, making you crash onto it as he sneaks between your legs and starts kissing your thighs. “I don't know what would be appropriate.”

He drags his tongue along your inner thigh and you squirm, feeling frustrated about the conversation at hand but not wanting to make him stop what he's doing at the same time. If you're being honest, it excites you to know it's your turn, that he wouldn't simply leave you hanging after having his fill of this elusive man you were talking about.

“Would you want me to bring him here?”

Your heart skips a beat because you know exactly what he's insinuating. “I-” Your words get stuck in your throat when he starts licking and sucking on your most sensitive place, but you manage to keep talking. “I d-don't know. I- Ah, fuck.” You grab his hair and grind against his tongue, hearing him chuckle at your desperation. 

He's greedy in the way he consumes you and his greed appears as generosity. He's doing this for his own satisfaction, because it fuels his pride to know you need him so bad you'd consider letting his other lover in just to keep him for yourself too. You love the way he loves you, though, you love that you can call him yours as well and that he wouldn't leave you, no matter how perverse the reasoning behind all of that is.

“Would you want to meet him at dinner, and then you can decide if we come back here?” He hovers over you, on his knees and completely naked now, rubbing himself between your folds before plunging in with a low groan of satisfaction.

You watch his head fall back and inspect the red marks on his chest and the love bites on his neck; you feel yourself tighten around him. When you think about it, there's something sexually devious about knowing someone else is just as depraved as you, who would surrender to sharing this man just to get a piece of him. And you understand that person, because this is Suguru and you could never give him up.

“Yes.” You whisper, “I want to know more about him, though. What is he like?”

He looks down at you as he spreads your legs and buries himself deep inside, “Right now?” His cheeks are tinted red, as if he feels embarrassed to tell you about the man he believed he was cheating on you with.

“You don't think I'd like him?”

He hums, “He's very high maintenence.” He says as he rocks his hips slowly into you and you whimper at the intoxicating friction. “He's very pretty and he knows it.” He twitches inside of you when you groan in response, satisfied with the way this is turning out. “He likes women, too, so that won't be a problem. You can have your fun with him, too.”

You feel yourself blush and cover your face, “You wouldn't mind?”

He chuckles, bending down to kiss your breasts and neck, “Why would I mind? I would love to see that. Two of my favorite people together… I don't know what I'd do…”

You whimper and drop your hands from your eyes to see he's smiling at you, mischief dancing around in his eyes. “Tell me more.”

He nods and picks up his pace, whispering in your ear as you feel yourself slowly unraveling under him. “He's needy. He likes begging me for more, just like you.” Suguru kisses your neck, goosebumps all over your body as you listen to him whisper perverse things about his other lover into your ear. “He always tastes sweet because he loves sugar more than anything.” He fucks you even faster and harder and holds your legs down so you can't close them as you scream his name. “He's the strongest sorcerer of today, but such a little pretty princess when he needs me.” He chuckles, “Is that enough for you?”

You shake your head, “More. Tell me about-” You scream out when he hits a spot inside of you that hurts and feels incredible at the same time. You're falling apart, feeling so dirty and so depraved while you listen to your sweet Suguru tell you about how nasty he'd been behind your back. It makes you feel new types of pleasure, something so deviant and sinful that it makes your legs quiver as Suguru fucks you feverishly into the mattress. You're jealous, but your curiosity overcomes it and you need to know every detail about this man and what he's been up to with your Suguru.

“You want to know about how I fuck him, hm, baby?” He whispers and you feel him twitch inside of you as he thinks about it, “He likes it rough, wherever and whenever. He's not like you in that regard, I know you love being at home. He likes when I fuck him in my car. That's when he gets loud, I think it turns him on to be put into uncomfortable positions.”

You whine as you imagine it, a pretty boy being fucked mercilessly by your lover in the back of a black Mercedes, uncomfortable and yet drowning in pleasure. It turns you on to envision it because you're a voyeur at heart, you'd love to see all of Suguru when he's so riled up and adamant at making someone scream his name.

“Oh, f-u-uck-” you cry out, “Keep talking, I'm almost there, Sugu-”

He kisses your neck, breathing heavily, “Me too, baby.” He mutters, “I can show you how he likes it, if you want, it's easier than talking.”

You nod rapidly and he flips you over instantly, pushing your face into the pillow as he pulls your ass up and bends your spine into an uncomfortable position, penetrating you even deeper than before once he enters again.

You feel your eyes tear up from the pain, but pleasure prevails and he continues his deranged pace, the slapping of skin echoing in the silence of the dark room. “Yeah, just like this, oh my-” he groans and pulls you by your hair to your knees, “Or like this,” he says and bites your neck as his hand wraps around it and cuts off your airway until you're lightheaded. Your spine is still bent at an angle that makes your insides stretch and you feel how tight you are around him, even though his pace never let's up.

You're a whimpering, bumbling mess as you completely lose yourself to him, unable to talk or even think at all. 

“Oh, both of you feel so divine, I couldn't let go of one or the other.” He groans next to your ear, pushing you forward until you're pressed up to the wall, the cold contrasting the scalding hot skin of his torso against your back. “I'm close baby-”

You whine as you feel his thrusts subside in speed but not intensity, your legs shake and you cry out one final time before coming undone on his cock as he fills you up with himself and his cum, feeling fuller than you've ever felt before.

He doesn't stop after he's done, though, he likes to feel your insides flutter around him and loves overestimulating himself with your sweet pussy until it simply hurts to have you anymore. His movement is slow, it gives you butterflies at how tender he becomes. His hands are exploring your body, grabbing your breasts and thighs, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he takes in the sweet scent in your hair. He's reveling in the sensation of your tender body against his and shaking from the captivating pleasure.

“I want to meet him,” You whisper again and make him laugh.

“You can meet him, honey.” He kisses the back of your neck and sneaks his fingers between your legs to touch you, making you whimper in protest, tired and fucked out. But he loves torturing you, so he doesn't stop. “You'll see, you'll get along just fine…” He keeps kissing you and touching you and your legs are shaking again.

“Sugu-ru-” you choke out, clawing at the wall, “Too much-”

“I know, honey, just a bit more…” He whispers into your ear, “You know I love to see you like this, so pretty.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers move skillfully to make you come once again, keeping himself nestled deep within your guts. You feel full, and he tells you you're so good for letting him torture you to his hearts content. “So sweet,” his lips graze your neck and you shudder, “So warm, hmm… I could stay inside of you forever.”

You moan at the thought, and he starts moving again, slowly, making sure you feel every little detail of him sliding against your insides. It's sensual and his hands are like hot lava dripping down your body, melting you entirely. He shows you there's no need to be jealous, no need to feel bad about sharing when he's got so much to give and when he needs both of you equally. 

“Do you feel better now, sweetheart?” He kisses your cheek, hugging you tightly.

You nod in response and turn around to face him. “I feel better, my love.” You say and kiss him, tasting the sugar on his tongue from the one who'd had him before you. “You're right, he does taste sweet.” You mutter, gazing at his lips and wondering how much sweeter he'd taste if you kissed him directly. It's a passing thought and you feel the jealousy prod at your heart once again, but you blame Suguru for these kinds of thoughts. He's the one who could manipulate you into being just as perverse as him. The question was whether you minded or not.

“Oh, really?” He chuckles as you push him down on the bed and climb on top of him, pulling the sheets over your naked bodies and snuggling into his warm embrace.

You sigh, “Sugu… Did you tell him about me?”

He sighs as well, “I didn't think of the possibility that you might be okay with that.”

You frown and sit up on top of him, “So he doesn't know about me at all? You didn't bother hiding the fact that you're seeing him from me.”

He looks guilty for a second, “I think he knows. He would've let me know if it was an issue. Just like you didn't up until now. You know him and I can't be together for real, so…”

You roll your eyes, “But you are. You screw him wherever and whenever, right?” You cross your hands over your chest and he looks down at your breasts, suddenly distracted from the serious matter at hand. “My eyes are up here.” You say in a deadpan voice.

“Yeah,” he pulls your arm for you to lay down again, “But we aren't public. Nobody knows except you. And I'll say I'd like it to stay that way, even though I know you won't tell.”

You give him a peck on the lips and smile softly, “I'd never.” 

He smiles back, “So, dinner?”

You nod, “Dinner."

a/n: thank you for reading! part 2 is out! part 3 coming soon!

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Each Yellowjackets character’s greatest strength (and why it is also their greatest weakness)

Natalie: Empathy/Selflessness

Despite her abusive home life and edgy, intimidating exterior, Nat is one of the kindest and softest characters on the show. She has a deeper understanding of other’s trauma and pain than most due to her own experiences. Nat was the only one to show empathy towards Travis when his father died, even when he was an absolute asshole to her (and pointed a loaded gun at her!). She helped Travis cut the ring off of his dad’s finger because she knew Javi needed it. She faces her trauma and becomes a hunter to provide food for the group. When Jackie tells Travis about Bobby Farleigh and Travis breaks up with Nat as a result, Nat still helps Jackie on the night of Doomcoming. She also doesn’t hold a grudge against Travis for sleeping with Jackie and even wakes up at the crack of dawn everyday for months and trudges through snow for miles to help him look for Javi. She helps Lisa steal back her goldfish, defends her against her mother, and even dies for her (literally!).

This is also why her selflessness is her greatest weakness, she gives too much of herself and does not believe she herself is worth the care she gives to others, resulting in self-destructive tendencies. Her one act of selfishness (letting Javi die in her place) completely destroys her. Her empathy results in intense guilt and shame when she has to hurt others in the Wilderness, resulting in her spiraling into a life of drugs in order to cope and keeping people at arm’s length to avoid harming them.

Taissa: Ambition/Drive

Taissa is driven and successful in pretty much anything she sets her mind to. Before the crash, she’s a straight A student and an exceptional athlete. In the Wilderness, she takes the lead on leaving the plane wreck, finding the lake, and forges her own expedition to find civilization. Post-rescue, Taissa is arguably the most successful survivor. She’s a lawyer and burgeoning politician with a prestigious academic background and a picturesque family. Tai’s determination and drive for success ensures not only her survival after the plane crash but also the survival of her teammates.

However, Tai’s ambition is also one of her greatest faults. Her tunnel vision towards success can result in herself and those around her getting hurt. She accidentally breaks Allie’s leg trying to get her to improve her soccer abilities. She sets out on her expedition despite Lottie’s warnings, resulting in Van nearly getting killed. And, as an adult, she (literally) drives herself mad trying to win her political campaign, pushing her entire family away in the process. Tai is fierce and accomplished, but always at a cost.

Misty: Devotion/Loyalty

When Misty finds someone she views as her ‘person,’ she latches on and does not let go. We see this in the Wilderness with Coach Ben and Crystal; and in the adult timeline with Natalie. Misty desperately wants to be loved, and therefore she will do anything for the people she cares about, hoping that this will gain their affection. She nurses Coach Ben back to health, she shares all of her secrets with Crystal and does everything in her power to ensure that the others don’t eat her body when she dies. For Nat, she not only gets arrested trying to help her, but also snorts her cocaine to prevent her from relapsing (my favorite scene in the whole show ngl), sets up a whole interrogation with Randy, and travels to a compound in the middle of nowhere to find her after she was kidnapped.

This unconditional devotion, however, definitely comes with its flaws. Misty is obsessive about the people she loves, and this obsession often leads to people getting hurt and/or killed. She kills Jessica Roberts in order to save her fellow survivors from blackmail. She drugs Coach Ben with shrooms (and accidentally the whole team) in order to win his affection, which results in Travis nearly getting killed and Javi going missing. She intimidates Crystal off of a cliff to her death when she rejects Misty and kills Nat when she had been trying to protect her. Misty is loyal, but her loyalty results in sociopathic tendencies and the loss of the very same people she is devoting herself to.

Lottie: Spirituality/Open-Mindedness

Lottie’s spirituality and open-mindedness has been key to the group’s survival in the Wilderness. Her ability to see, hear, and sense what other’s cannot (whether you think it’s real or not) gives her teammates in the teen timeline and her cult (intentional community) members in the adult timeline hope and purpose. Without Lottie, the girls likely would have given up on survival long ago. She has an other-worldly, healing presence that those around her are naturally drawn to, and she helps a lot of people as a result.

Lottie’s spirituality can also be dangerous and even deadly, though. Her time as the Wilderness’s prophet causes the group to spiral into ritualistic sacrifices and cannibalism. In the adult timeline, her spirituality gets her locked up in a psych ward for years. Even after she has healed and moved on, Lottie’s belief in supernatural forces catches up with her again and results in her reinstating The Hunt, ultimately causing Nat’s death.

Van: Perseverance/Resilience

This poor butch goalie has almost died a ridiculous amount of times. She gets in a plane crash and is ditched by Jackie and Shauna in the wreckage, narrowly avoiding burning to death. Then, she’s nearly chopped into bits by a plane propeller. Then, she gets brutally and almost fatally mauled by a wolf. Then, she’s nearly burnt to death again on a funeral pyre (while still actively bleeding to death from the wolf attack). Then, her face is stitched up with a sewing needle by a 16 year-old (with no drugs to numb the pain). Then, her girlfriend starts losing control of herself and trying to run off of cliffs in the middle of the night so she has to regularly tie her down and keep watch of her all night. Then, she gets terminal cancer and only has a few months left to live. And that’s not even considering her life before the crash, living with an alcoholic mother that she has to take care of. Needless to say, Van has been through it. And through it all, she maintains her strength and witty sense of humor. She’s a light out in the Wilderness, keeping her team uplifted and laughing even in their worst moments (this girl is literally cracking jokes with her face torn to shreds). Her perseverance through hardship is next level.

However, this perseverance seems to have created a numbness in Van. Over time in the Wilderness, Van becomes more numb and reaction-less to the tragedy and trauma occurring around her. When the group eats Jackie, she bluntly tells Tai “we ate her” with little emotion. When they kill and eat Javi, Van tells Travis she has no regrets because she’s grateful to be alive. In the adult timeline, Van calls off the psych team for Lottie and goes through with the card ritual, knowing that this will likely result in the someone getting killed. Van is resilient and driven to survive through hardships, but her way of surviving means losing a little bit of her heart and humanity in the process.

Jackie: Influence

Before the crash, Jackie is undoubtedly a leader. She’s the Yellowjackets’ team captain and has an almost magnetic force around her that seems to captivate the whole school. She’s pretty, popular, and excels in everything she does. Shauna especially is completely caught in her orbit. When her teammates are fighting at the party, she single-handedly manages to calm them all down and help them mend their conflicts with each other.

The downside to this influence, however, is that it does not transfer to the Wilderness. High school rules don’t apply to trying to survive in the Canadian Rockies, and Jackie’s influence lies in civilization and traditional society. Jackie struggles to have the same power that she did before, and those who are more unconventional (such as Lottie and Nat) have more influence in their new living situation.

Shauna: Intensity/Passion

Shauna is completely driven by her emotions. She feels things strongly and loves people intensely. We see this first with Jackie, who Shauna has an all-consuming (pun-intended) love for. Her world revolves around Jackie, she doesn’t know where she ends and Jackie begins. In the Wilderness, this intensity of emotions translates to a ferocity that keeps her and her teammates alive. Shauna is unafraid to become the butcher of the group or to take the first bite. On the surface, Shauna appears timid, reserved, and gentle. As a teen, she’s invisible at school, hiding in Jackie’s shadow. As an adult, she’s an unassuming, soft-spoken housewife. But underneath is a darkness and fierceness that catches people by surprise and serves as her secret weapon.

The downside to Shauna’s intensity and passion, however, is that she does not have control over it. Her emotions spiral until she or someone close to her gets hurt. She loves Jackie and feels jealous of her, so she sleeps with her boyfriend, gets pregnant with his child, and implodes their friendship. She is deeply mourning Jackie’s death, so she eats a part of her to feel close to her again. She’s grieving the loss of her baby and doesn’t know what to do with that feeling so she nearly beats Lottie to death. She has a feeling Jeff might be cheating so she starts an affair with Adam. Someone stole her minivan? She’s gonna track them down, hold them at gunpoint, and nearly kill them. When she begins to feel unsafe and suspicious of Adam, this feeling, too, spirals out of control and she ends up murdering him. Shauna’s emotions are powerful, and while they do serve an important purpose of keeping her alive in the Wilderness, she doesn’t know how to express them in healthy ways and ends up lashing out as a result. I have a feeling they’re going to play an important role in Season 3, as well, as we can see that Shauna’s jealousy of Nat’s leadership is already beginning to make itself known.

[coffeebeanwriting]

Writing Fight Scenes

Here are a handful of tips on how to write intriguing and strong *no pun intended* fight scenes! 1. Give your character a meaning behind their actions. Are they fighting to survive? Are they the aggressor or the victim? Are they defending someone they love or hunting down someone who hurt them? Makes sure the audience knows why this action scene is important to your character. Unimportant and nonmeaningful actions can be boring!

2. Short sentences. Generally speaking, longer more detailed scenes slow the pace of your novel down. This is because the reader has to take more time to read and absorb all the details. Quicker, brief sentences make the pace move faster because there is less for the audience to read. Most fighting happens quickly and instinctively— without too much thought or anticipation. When things are happening fast, we have less time to take in details.

🏃‍♀️ Fast-paced with minimal details: "He punched me in the cheek, my back molars ripping open my fleshy skin. By the time the next punch came, I was already choking on a mouthful of blood."

🐌 Too many details/thoughts that slow down the action: "His large fist hurled towards me with insane speed. I could hardly believe it. He punched my cheek so hard that my sharp, back molars ripped open my fleshy skin. It hurt so bad, but I couldn't stop the next punch from coming. Blood filled my mouth, the irony taste causing me to choke and for my face to wilt."

3. Use all five senses. When adrenaline is pumping, the body can become hyperaware! Touch and sight are the senses that most people focus on... but don't forget about smell, hearing and, taste. Does your protagonist hear dogs approaching? Do they taste the blood from their busted lip?

4. Don't' slow down the pace by adding too much detail. Try to keep an ebb and flow in your action scene. When the action is happening, keep the details quick and short— no one has time to think about their next move when in the heat of danger. However, you can balance the scene out by giving your character a chance to breathe and think and observe

5. Research/study. Watch famous fight scenes in movies or anime to see what is realistic and what is exaggerated. Pay attention to the pacing or what keeps you on edge. When does the character get a chance to think or come up with a plan? What makes this action scene so enthralling?

6. Consider what is at stake. Stakes always make a scene more tense. What does your character have to lose and how does this affect their mental state? Does it aid in their energy, or does it distract them from the fight?

7. Develop characters/the plot. Consider how this action scene will either further your character in the plot or set them back. Does this scene give them a lasting injury that follows them throughout the story, or do they lose an ally that they desperately loved? How does this affect them moving forward?

Instagram: coffeebeanwriting

[bat-boys]

forever, my love

pairing: Azriel x fem reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+, mentions of battle and war, references to depression, smut (fingering) but it's romantic, angst but also fluff.

summary: you and Azriel had seen many battles over the centuries but when something goes wrong and has a lasting impact on you, Az promises to take care of you.

a/n: thank you so much for the love on the first fic! here's another one! I promise next time I'll write something happier haha, suggestions are welcome! I hope you enjoy.

The cruel, unyielding symphony of battle swelled in you as you continued to swing your sword at the enemies in front of you. Grunts of pain and screams of frustration left your lips as you continued to carve a path through the soldiers in your way, desperately trying to hold the line as Cassian had commanded. 

Your body moved automatically, thanks to the centuries of muscle memory drilled into you from the intense training and the many battlefields you had found yourself on during your long life. In recent decades, you may have taken a step back from helping to command the Night Court armies and turned your attention to training the next legion of warriors and aiding your spymaster in more covert missions. Still, your body would always remember the steps needed in battle. It would never shrink from charging head first.

Once, you had been told you were beautiful to watch in battle—second only to Cassian himself as you danced your way through enemy hordes. But now, as you cut through another bottleneck of soldiers, you could only focus on keeping yourself alive, so you were extremely exhausted. 

Step, swing, push, slash, pivot, hit. 

As you managed to gut the last soldier in front of you, you allowed yourself a small moment of reprieve to collect your thoughts and take a gulp of air. The sound of battle raged around you, and you could faintly see your friends and allies around you, diligently fighting for a future you had only just battled for a mere handful of years ago. You sent a pulse down that precious thread, tucked deep within your heart and nodded your head in relief when you felt a responding pulse from the male on the other end. Alive. He was still alive. That's all that mattered at the moment. 

You heard a shout close beside you and watched an Illyrian soldier, who had been grounded due to semi-shredded wings, fight off a group of soldiers starting to swarm around him. Taking a deep breath, you sheathed your long blade and palmed the knives strapped to either thigh.

Winnow, slash. Winnow, stab. Winnow, swing. Your High Lady herself had taught you this particular move after you had seen her yourself face enemies from a different war, a different conflict. You kept the image of your friends smiling at Feyre as she had embarrassingly walked you through how she did it, blushing furiously at your instance in teaching you at the forefront of your mind, and you continued to dance to the sound of the battle's symphony. 

That was the future you continued to fight for, and you were determined to protect it. 

…

Your entire body heaved as you shoved your blade through the chest of the last soldier in front of you. The sounds of battle were quietening and dying out as the last of the enemy horde were tied up or killed. 

A groan left your lips as you yanked your blade free and used the last of your power and strength to winnow to the edge of the battlefield. You stumbled as you landed, cursing yourself for letting your power drain so thoroughly during battle. Az would chastise you about that later. Speaking of which…

Where are you? You sent down the bond, waiting for the familiar calm voice to reach your mind. A frown fell on your face as the minutes stretched past, and you didn't hear a response from him. 

Az? 

You refused to panic just yet. While this was unusual, you knew the moments after a battle was the most crucial for a spymaster as he gathered up defeated enemies to spirit them away for interrogation. He was probably just busy, you reasoned with yourself.

But a small part of your brain also whispered that he always kept the precious channel between you both open and always responded when you called. 

You trudged through the mud towards the huge fortress in front of you. It may have been dilapidated and crumbling, but it provided a place where Rhys could gather his allies and forces and not be constantly caked in dirt and mud from his war camp. Once, it had probably been beautiful, home to some illustrious High Fae family, but now it was home to tired soldiers and had clearly seen much better days. 

Azriel. You tried again to reach your mate through the bond, your heart thundering louder in your chest when you didn't receive a response. This time, you stretched your consciousness along that bridge…and slammed into a cold stone wall on the other end. Panic began to claw up your throat, but you refused to give in. He was probably busy with Rhys or Cassian; you desperately tried to reason with yourself as you sheathed your heavy blade into the scabbard strapped to your back and walked up the stone steps to the bustling entrance of the fortress. 

"Injured that way, please!" You heard the familiar voice of your High Lady directing her people from inside the entrance. She turned around, and you saw her face relax in relief as she spotted you, "Y/N. Oh, thank the cauldron, you're alright." 

Feyre was wearing her Illyrian leathers, her hair windswept and looking just as tired as you felt. She walked towards you, and you hugged her tightly, grateful to see one of your dearest friends safe and sound. You gently manoeuvred around the bow strapped to her back as she hugged you back just as fiercely. Much to everyone's surprise and yours and Rhys' amusement after the war with Hybern Feyre had mastered the notoriously tough Illyrian bow - why anyone doubted her after her past in the human realm you were still confused by. You had seen her sweeping over the battlefield today and dispatching enemies, saving your life more times than you cared to admit. Her flying wasn't strong enough to join in with the Illyrian legions yet, but she had become invaluable on the battlefield once again.

"You looked awesome up there today." You both grinned at each other, warriors recognising each other, "where is everyone?"

"Amren and Mor are in the war chamber, exhausted but ok. Cassian was dropping off a soldier to the hospital wing."

"Az?"

"I thought he was with you?" A quick shake of your head had her face falling, "Ok, he's probably busy with clean up - let me see if Rhys can reach him."

"Thank you," you whispered, and she squeezed your shoulder and kissed your cheek before going back to directing people coming through the entrance. 

You jumped as you felt a bigger, wider hand fall on your shoulder but relaxed when you turned to see Cassian grinning down at you. Not the Illyrian warrior you were desperate to see but still a fucking welcome sight. 

"You saved our asses out there, as usual, tiny angry one." You rolled your eyes at the nickname he had given you hundreds of years ago as you let him pull you into a bone-crushing hug. 

"Glad to see you survived another battle, General, and without getting yourself torn to shreds."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up you." He teased as he gently pushed your shoulder. You may be Az's right-hand woman with his spy network now, but you were Cassian's second in command first. A formidable warrior whose name struck fear into your enemy's hearts, renowned for being utterly ruthless in combat and undefeated. How long ago it now felt when you and Cassian had first led the armies in that war hundreds of years ago.

"Have you seen Az?" You hated how quiet your voice sounded, but you struggled to keep the panic at bay. 

"No," Cass frowned, "is he still out there?"

"I don't know, I can't reach him." You whispered, and immediately you felt Cassian shift, ready to head back out there and find his brother - could see the panic that settled in his eyes at the thought of finding him dead on the battlefield.

"Let's not panic yet. We'll go find Rhys, and we can set up a patrol-"he continued to talk to you, laying out a plan before you, but you couldn't hear him. Couldn't hear over the sound of your own panic as you tried to not give in to the fear that was eating away at your heart. You absolutely refused to even think for a minute that he was dead. But why was the bond cold? Why hadn't he gotten in touch, and why hadn't anyone seen him since the battle ended?

You turned your head to the side, ready to throw up the small amount of food you had choked down earlier, when-

Y/N! You froze as you heard a familiar roar and couldn't place if it was something you had heard echoed around the stone room or through that precious bond you shared. 

Immediately, you turned from Cassian toward the sound of that shout, and your knees nearly buckled when you finally spotted Azriel walking through the fortress's entrance, bathed in his shadows. 

His eyes were wild as he scanned the room, looking for you. His hair was matted to his sweaty forehead, blood coated his face, and he was stalking forward with a slight limp. But he was alive. Alive.

"Az." You had barely whispered his name, but you watched as his eyes snapped to you, and something broke in his carefully carved facade as his gaze took you in. Pure, undiluted, raw relief settled on his face as he realised you were still here, unhurt and standing. 

Sobbing, you left your friend behind and ran towards your mate. He just stopped where he stood and held his arms out, catching you as you barrelled into him. He rocked ever so slightly back as he caught you, a testament to the exhaustion seeping through his body, but you felt that primal part of you that had been thrashing around your heart ease as his arms circled around you tightly and he buried his head in your hair - breathing you in.

"I thought I had lost you." You sobbed as you pushed your face into his neck, breathing in that comforting smell of night-chilled mist and cedar.

"I know, baby, I know." His beautiful, scarred hands gently stroked down your blood-soaked and matted hair as he continued to mumble, "I'm here. I'm safe. We're safe."

"What happened?" you asked as you pulled away ever so slightly from his body, letting your feet hit the unforgiving stone floor. Azriel's face was so tender, so soft, as his hands came up to cup your face. You watched, giving him a minute to scan your face for any injuries. A sigh left his lips when he noticed that you were largely unharmed apart from the usual cuts and scraps from battle. 

"Faebane," he muttered darkly, and you gasped. "One of the soldiers had some and threw it on my face when I got close. Clearly, they haven't got much, and it's a diluted solution leftover from the war with Hybern as it cleared quite quickly, but still…this is something we now have to factor in."

"I couldn't feel you down the bond." Your voice hitched.

"I couldn't feel you either, sweetheart, I didn't know if you still breathed. I was so scared." Another sob slipped through your lips, one of sadness but also one of relief as you gripped his Illyrian leathers and pulled him closer - unable to stand any distance between you. You rose up on your shaky legs and pressed your lips to his.

The kiss wasn't sweet or tender; it was demanding and all-consuming. It was a kiss between two mates who had been terrified that after their years of searching, they had lost each other. You felt the rumble of Azriel's moan as you tilted your head to get better access to his lips. His hand reached up to cup your head to hold you in place as he licked into your mouth, and his arm snapped around you as your legs finally gave out and caught you before you sank to the floor. 

You broke away gently, not going far as you rested your foreheads together. Your bodies heaved as you sucked in air for what felt like the first time since the battle ended. You closed the distance again to press your lips to his again, once, twice, thrice.

"I can't do this anymore, Az." You whispered, tears slipping down your face. Tears that Azriel captured with his thumbs as he looked at you with such devastation, "the wars, the battles, not knowing whether our friends are alive, not knowing if you are still alive. I have never felt so old."

"I know, sweetheart. I know." 

You both sighed as you felt the soldier hovering near you, waiting to catch your attention. Once, you would have known every soldier's name, but now you just had a vague recollection of his face. "Azriel. Y/N. I'm sorry to interrupt, but Rhysand has requested your presence."

Az pulled away slightly to nod at the soldier, who offered you both a respectful salute before leaving. You felt his scarred hand drift down your arm to grip your hand. You felt his squeeze, and you squeezed back, "Come on, love, let's go get this over with, and then let me take care of you."

…

The fortress was quieter now, as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the next attack; the next moment, you would all be dragged out onto the battlefield again to face your enemies. You and Az had been stuck in meetings for hours after that initial reunion, and you had felt so hollow as your friends recounted what they saw throughout the day, the tactics the enemies were using and how you stood a chance at defeating them once and for all if you hold strong. You hadn't let go of Az's hand the entire time, only letting go once he had told his story about the faebane and he had seen tears slipping down your cheeks again and had pulled you into his arms. 

A sadness clanged through your chest as you watched all of your friends that afternoon once the allies from other courts had left for their own war camps. Even through the exhaustion, the court of dreamers was still fighting, even though you had all been on the battlefield in a different war only a handful of years ago.

Azriel had made good on his promise. The minute Rhys commanded you to rest, Azriel gripped your cold hand and pulled you towards the room down the hall you were sharing. Immediately, he had asked a passing soldier to grab you a plate of food, something warm, before strolling into the room and firmly closing the door behind him. With such gentle hands, he had taken your frozen body and sat you down on the impressive four-poster bed in the centre of the room, your body sinking deeply into the comfy mattress. 

He firmly pressed a loving kiss to your forehead before moving away to stoke the fire that someone had forethought to start while you were in meetings. Once satisfied, he quickly looked back over his shoulder at you - to check you were ok - before moving into the expansive bathing chamber. You could hear his footsteps on the tiled floor and the water gushing out of the taps into the large bathtub, but you couldn't stop the fear from clawing up your throat. Panic began to settle in again because he was out of sight.

What your enemies would think at the mighty Y/N reduced to this quivering mess.

Just as you couldn't take the roaring in your head anymore, at the nausea swirling in your stomach, and were about to get up to run to his arms again, Azriel stepped back into the room. You must have been shouting down the bond again because he had a soft, sad look on his face. 

"I'm here, sweetheart." A whimper left your lips as you flew from the bed into his arms again, unable to get enough of the feeling of him, of being safe with him. His hand skated up and down your spine again, mumbling soothing words and pressing his lips into your hair: "I've drawn you a warm bath; come on."

You hadn't realised how much you had been shivering or how long you had been cold until the idea of settling into warm water felt so appealing. He smiled at you as he took your hands and guided you into the large bathing chamber. The bathtub sat in the middle of the room, large enough for not only you but also to accommodate wings, you realised. A soft smile fell on your lips at the thought.

In a comfortable silence that you and Az had always been able to enjoy, he gently began to unbuckle your damp and blood-encrusted leathers. With slow, methodical movements, he pulled the material from your body before throwing it into a basket in the corner of the room. You watched, your breathing shallow as Az ran his soft fingers up the exposed skin of your arms before hooking under the strap of your bra and removing it carefully from your body. Only then did his fingers skate down the soft valley of your breasts, over your abdomen, before slipping underneath the waistband of your underwear and slipping them down your thighs. Az had seen you in every state and had marked every inch of your skin with his lips and tongue, but this moment, him undressing you as you tried desperately to keep yourself from shattering, was the most intimate thing you had shared. It was warm and sweet, flecked with starlight.

That same warm smile was still on his lips as he took your hand and guided you into the warm water in the bathtub. An appreciative groan left your lips as your feet, legs, and body were submerged in comforting, warm water. 

You turned around and grinned at your mate as you watched him unbuckle his own leathers and shuck them off his body. You couldn't help gazing appreciatively at his body, that body you also knew as well as your own: the proud contours of his shoulders, the toned muscles of his arms, his chiselled abdomen, the thick, powerful thighs. He truly was sculpted by the gods themselves. 

Az silently padded over to the bathtub, slipping into the warm water himself before resting against one end and gently slipping his arm around your waist to pull you against him - your back pressed tightly against his chest. 

With a gentleness that you know would shock so many people, he reached to grab the washcloth and soap from the side before he lathered them up and softly washed the mud and blood from your body. He took his time, kneading his hands into your aching muscles. He even undid your tattered braid and carefully washed the blood and dirt from your hair. The moment was so loving and beautiful after what happened earlier in the day that you couldn't help the tears that silently slipped from your eyes and tracked down your cheeks. 

Once you were both clean, he pulled you flush against his chest again, letting you lean against him with your eyes closed as you enjoyed the feeling of being this close to him in the warm water. You idly traced the scars on his hand underneath the water where it was resting against your stomach whilst his other hand slid up and down your thigh, over your hip and up your body.

"I love you, Az." You whispered into the soft silence that had settled between you.

"I love you too, baby." You felt him press a kiss to your temple.

After today, after the horrors you had seen, after the panic that had coursed through your veins, you needed to feel something more. He wasn't close enough; you needed to feel him. Without saying a word, you lifted your free hand to gently grip the hand that was trailing up and down your body, stopping it in its lazy movements to slowly place it closer to that now throbbing part of you at the apex of your thighs. 

"Sweetheart?" He questioned quietly. You could sense through the bond his willingness to touch you and feel his want with the way his erection was pressed against your lower back. But he needed to check that you really wanted this and that he wouldn't overstep some line, especially after today. 

"Please, Az. I need you." You whimpered as you felt his slender fingers skim along your inner thigh.

"Relax, sweetheart, let me make you feel good." He rumbled against you as he gently began to press kisses under your ear, at that sweet spot he had found on that first night all those years ago. Your chest heaved as you felt his calloused fingertips trace up your thigh, over the curve of your hip, and along your bikini line before sensually slipping down to trace your slit.

A soft hiss escaped your lips at the feeling of his fingers so close to where you needed him most, a whimpering, "Please," leaving your lips as he chuckled behind you. His breath ghosted over the shell of your ear and caused a shiver to run down your spine. 

"I have worshipped your body for centuries, love," Azriel murmured, his strong nose nudging the side of your head so he could begin placing open-mouthed, hot kisses down your neck, "and I never get tired of hearing those noises you make when I touch you." 

You whined softly when Azriel moved his hand, but it was quickly silenced when you felt him suck on the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder as his strong hand gripped your thigh to move it to the outside of his so he had better access to you. 

One of his slender fingers returned to your centre and traced your slit once again before gently swirling around that bundle of nerves. A curse ripped from your lips as your hips bucked at the contact, and another primal chuckle rumbled up Azriel's chest at your delicious reaction. 

Azriel continued to swirl his finger ever so gently over your clit, every now and then applying the smallest amount of pressure and causing a sharp cry to leave your lips as white-hot pleasure shot up your body. It wasn't enough; he was teasing, and you needed your body to shatter in a way you were familiar with.

"Use your words, love. Tell me what you need." You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, and if you weren't wound up so tightly, you might have called him out on it. 

"Your fingers, Az. Please." You whimpered.

"Because you asked so nicely." He mumbled into your skin as he gently slid one finger into your core. A sharp cry left your lips at the feeling of those scars creating the most delicious friction against your walls. 

He set a slow but deep pace as he pumped his finger inside you, his thumb still drawing figures of eight on your clit. You could feel the pleasure building inside of you, your toes curling as you felt Azriel taking you higher and higher. His hand that you had been gripping, resting against your stomach, slid up your body to cup your breast. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he expertly rolled your nipples between his fingers and tweaked them in the way he knew you liked. You could feel that familiar crest of your orgasm approaching, and he had barely touched you. So expertly knew your body. You threw your head back against his shoulder, unable to do much but go limp against him. 

"I love you so much, Y/N." He whispered, and you turned to face him and saw that raw emotion on his face again, an emotion that mirrored yours. As he slipped another finger inside you, curling his fingers to reach that spongy spot inside of you that had you seeing stars, you reached up to grip his hair and press your lips to his. 

You felt him grin against you as you kissed him, your hips undulating and rolling against his fingers to meet his lazy thrusts. The kiss was full of teeth and passion, and you felt the rising tide of your pleasure as you writhed against him. A cry left your lips as you felt yourself reaching the top of the wave, your mind turning foggy and hips bucking sloppily as you felt your orgasm approaching. 

"Let go, love, cum for me." His words, whispered lowly in your ear, his tone dripping lust and awe, and the soft thrust he gave behind you that had you feeling how much he was enjoying seeing you like this, caused that band in your body to snap and the pleasure he had been slowly building crest and shatter. Pure, white, hot pleasure sparked throughout your body, sending every nerve-ending alight as your orgasm washed over you. Chants of his name left his lips as your back arched and your hips thrashed as he continued to pump his fingers deliciously inside you.

After what felt like hours, the wave of pleasure began to subside and be replaced with a bone-deep satisfaction. A sigh left your lips as you slumped back against your mate, his arms catching you - as they always did - and pulling you close to him. You felt Azriel mumbling your name whilst pressing soft kisses to your temple, cheek and jawline. 

"Rest, love. There will be time for more later. I promise." It was that promise you clung to as you rested against your mate and let your body relax in the cooling water of the bath. 

[fourmoony]

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞

james potter x f!reader

fluff. 1.5k.

Summary: James brings home a baby. A baby that is not kidnapped.

part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - masterlist

...

James is standing in the doorway with a baby in his arms.

You’re so grateful he’s even there, that he’s made it back alive – albeit a little bloody and battered, glasses askew and his face covered in dirt – but alive nonetheless, that you don’t even notice the baby, bundled in a warm, fluffy blanket, wrapped safely in his arms. He’s bouncing his arms gently, probably trying to soothe the baby who’s making soft noises, and it’s really a sight to behold. It’s not until he steps through the doorway and gives you a nervous, lopsided smile that you fully register your boyfriend is holding a baby.

You blink. Once, twice. A third time.

James grows progressively more antsy. He chews his busted lip, winces, and then shifts back and forth on his feet. You have no idea where he could even have procured a baby. He’s been on an order mission for the past four days, scouting possible allies with the vampires whilst simultaneously moving important potions ingredients from one safe house to another, making sure the Death Eaters are always two steps behind order movements. Realistically, there’s been zero opportunity for James to come across a baby that he could just – take home.

“You’re home,” You breathe, because truly, that’s the most important part of the whole ordeal. James is here. He’s safe. He’s alive. Another mission down, and James has returned home. So, you’re glad. Grateful, unbelievably so. But also confused. Deeply confused.

“You have questions,” James is arguably calm about the situation, like he’d expected you to be eyeing him with hesitation – he was right – and he’s already rehearsed this in his head. “That’s normal.”

“Normal,” You repeat, the word tasting foreign on your tongue because nothing about this is normal. “Jamie, you’re holding a baby. Tell me we’re just like, babysitting, or something and you haven’t kidnapped someone’s child!”

James winces at your – albeit, quiet – yelling. The baby whimpers in his arms and immediately James shushes it, bouncing slightly on the spot with a desperate look in his eyes. He’s out of his depth, it’s obvious by the panicked way he’s looking between you and the baby, something pleading in his eyes.

“I didn’t kidnap her,” James argues childishly.

Okay, so, the baby is a girl. And James didn’t kidnap her. You turn and walk towards the kitchen, James follows, hot on your heels. The kitchen is a bit of a mess. There are your dishes from dinner, the bin is full, and there’s a couple of empty cartons for the recycling dotted on the counter closest to the back garden door. But James doesn’t flinch, he surveys his surroundings, but ultimately ignores the mess you’ve allowed to take over the small space in the days he’s been away.

“We were flying over Surrey when Marls spotted the dark mark over a muggle area,” James launches into explanation while you busy yourself with leaning over the sink and running the warm water. “We stopped to assess damage, but the Aurors were already there. Her family was killed, baby. The muggle government won’t touch the scene with a ten-foot pole – not that the baby had any other family, anyway, Alice already checked – and the Ministry won’t do anything except send her to an orphanage.”

The suds around your hands suddenly feel too much. The soup crusted around the side of your dinner bowl won’t come off and you scrub aggressively at it, focussing on that instead of the fact that your boyfriend has essentially just told you he’s informally adopted a child at random, without discussing it with you first.

Well, you know there was no time for him to discuss it. You can’t be mad at him for that. And, really, you can’t be angry at him, either, for bringing her to your home. She’s safe here. She’s already suffered an incredible amount of trauma, and she barely looks more than three months old. Your heart softens with your resolve, and you lift your head to look out of the window above the sink. The cottage you and James live in was a gift from his parents – a gift that had made you incredibly overwhelmed until you found out it had been under their ownership since before James was born, anyway – and has enough room for a swing set and a slide, maybe a trampoline. There’s a spare room, upstairs. Sirius will grumble about giving up his room for when he visits, but you’re sure he’ll get over it with some encouragement from Remus. The cottage is pretty much baby proof for James and Sirius’ sake, anyway. You have enough expendable income to completely kit out an emergency nursery necessary.

The argument isn’t really that you can’t afford to have a baby, or that you don’t have space for a baby. It’s that you’re nineteen, a year out of Hogwarts and in the middle of a war. Things are bad, times are scary, James is gone at least a week out of every month, you spend most of your days confined to the inside of a potions lab with Lily, making key potions that the Order need to work efficiently. You’re still kids yourselves, fighting a war that is taking everything from you.

But the way James is holding her like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen, rocking her, and cooing at her, you melt when you turn to face them, and it just feels – right, you suppose.

James looks up, smiles tentatively. You’ve always known he’ll be a great dad. He’s so full of light and love. When he loves, he loves with his entire heart. He loves dotingly and loyally. He’s so sure, standing there. Even though you can tell he’s trying to respect you, waiting to show his excitement until he knows how you feel, you can also see how much love he already has for this little girl, how sure he is that here, with him and with you, is the best place for her.

You take a step towards him, around the kitchen island, and hold your arms out wordlessly. He places her in your arms so gently and then watches as your eyes meet hers. They’re big and round and so blue you feel the breath hitch in your throat. She’s gorgeous. Big puffy cheeks and tufts of dark hair on her small little head. Her tiny lips are curved into a tired pout. You can’t help the smile that overcomes you. When your eyes lift – reluctantly – James is staring at you both. There’s something sickly sweet about the look in his eyes, warm like coffee, sweet like honey.

“We’re at war, Jamie,” You tell him, “Having a baby is a bad idea.”

James nods, “I know.”

A beat of silence passes. An understanding, maybe. It’s a bad time to be two nineteen-year-olds having a baby. But it’s there, in the way James looks at you. He’s never been one to have perfect timing. He asked you to be his girlfriend in the middle of an argument. He asked you to move in with him after school when the first Daily Prophet announcement about the war being confirmed happened. He’s brought a baby home out of nowhere, in the middle of said war. But it feels right. Holding her in your arms, James standing so close you can feel his warmth.

“What’s her name?” You ask, smiling sweetly at James.

He beams. He just – he beams. You know that he knows, then. You’re in. For better or worse.

“No idea. Alice had the muggle police contact the muggle social workers, who had no idea of anything about her. Bit of a mystery, really. But we get to keep her. Keep her safe, love her, raise her. So, I think it worked out. Is that bad?" James whips his head up, like his words surprised himself.

You chuckle lightly, "A little."

"What do you think we should name her?" You ask, eyes flitting back down to her. She's fallen over into sleep, blue irises gone from the world and you feel a tinge of sadness. You miss the bright blue of them, already. She's huffing softly, lips parted cutely. There's something magical about the way she's captured your heart in ten minutes flat. She might have magical powers, after all.

"Not sure. We can think on it. Our meeting with the ministry to officially adopt isn't until Monday." James speaks softly, in awe of the sight of you both.

You nod, "We better ring for Sirius and Remus, send them off for a cot, and then coax them into helping us build it."

You hand her over to James, he takes her, and then make for the phone. James stops you when he speaks, voice an amused whisper, lips pressed to her head, "They're already on their way."

"You knew I'd say yes."

"I knew you'd say yes. How could you not? Look at her." James is all honey voiced as he coos and holds the baby up for you to see and you melt.

She's the cutest thing you've ever seen. You're in awe. She's got your heart, well and truly. It's a strange feeling, to have such adoration for a human so small, who you've only just met. But you know you'll lay your life down to protect her. You'd do anything to make sure she's safe. She promises love, in the darkest time. You can already see the difference in James since returning home. He's lighter, full of smiles, gentle, happy. Usually, after missions, James is dark and brooding. He's filled with a darkness that only being a soldier can bring about.

James is looking at her so lovingly it makes you want to cry. She's happiness, and love. She's-

"Hope." You say, the ghost of a smile on your lips.

James looks up, brows furrowed, a question.

"Hope Potter." You affirm, tears in your eyes.

Your heart fills when James leans forward, presses a kiss to your lips, careful not to jostle Hope, "I love it. I love you."

"I love you. Both."

[etz-ashashiyot]

You know how sometimes arguing a point is losing?

Like if you engage the argument at all you are inherently putting up for debate things that should never be up for debate and the argument itself is degrading?

You see this with interpersonal gaslighting:

A gaslighter doesn’t simply need to be right. They also need for you to believe that they are right. In stage one, you know that they’re being ridiculous, but you argue anyways. You argue for hours, without resolution. You argue over things that shouldn’t be up for debate  – your feelings, your opinions, your experience of the world. You argue because you need to be right, you need to be understood, or you need to get their approval. In stage one, you still believe yourself, but you also unwittingly put that belief up for debate. In stage two, you consider your gaslighter’s point of view first and try desperately to get them to see your point of view as well. You continue to engage because you’re afraid of what their perspective of you says about you. Winning the argument now has one objective :  proving that you’re still good, kind, and worthwhile. In stage three, when you’re hurt, you first ask, “What’s wrong with me?” You consider their point of view as normal. You start to lose your ability to make your own judgements. You become consumed with understanding them and seeing their perspective. You live with and obsess over every criticism, trying to solve it.

[Source]

But you also see this on a broader societal level, with people asking unfathomably awful questions about minority groups, such as:

[Source]

It should go without saying, but no group of people should be forced to explain that yes, they really are real people, dickheads. The question doesn't deserve an answer; it deserves at best a disgusted eyeroll + "Are you a Nazi?" and at worst a punch to the face.

There is also the related phenomenon of the "when did you stop beating your wife?" type questions. The question is framed as a yes or no question, but the real answer for the innocent is: "I've never beaten my wife and never would." But even that answer still dignifies the question with a real response and puts the idea in the mind of the listener that hey maybe that's a real possibility and this guy is lying because of course he wouldn't just admit that. Now I don't know what to believe, but I'm skeptical.

Even if he answers, doubt has been cast on his character and many people (maybe even most people) neither have the attention span to listen to his full counter argument and supporting evidence nor are invested enough in strangers' lives to take the time to dig for facts on their own. Critically, it comes from a good impulse that shouldn't be repressed or taken too far in the opposite direction; namely, that we want to believe survivors and make it socially acceptable to speak out about abuse.

This leaves us with the uncomfortable reality that balancing believing survivors and whistle-blowers against not automatically believing allegations that very well may be false and/or in bad faith is a very tricky balancing act indeed. Because of this, people tend to struggle with taking survivors seriously and with presuming innocence until guilt has actually been proven, both. And as for the latter, this is at least partially due to the same psychological factors underlying the Don't Think of an Elephant problem.

Why am I discussing this?

See the thing is that these types of discourse have all been used, heavily, against the Jewish community, especially since Oct 7th, but really going back hundreds of years.

If you want to be our ally, you need to be on guard for how people use this rhetoric to accuse Jews of absolutely batshit cookoo bananas allegations (like being lizard people or having horns, or secretly running the world, or killing Christian babies to use their blood in our matzah, etc. etc.) and get away with it. Now obviously if so many people weren't already racist towards Jews as a people and had a vested interest in maintaining their supercessionist cultural worldview from Christianity and Islam, it would be a lot harder for this to work. Alas, the past 2000 years has created a bit of a snowballing effect.

This culminates in the effect described so well by Sartre:

Never believe that anti-Semites are completely unaware of the absurdity of their replies. They know that their remarks are frivolous, open to challenge. But they are amusing themselves, for it is their adversary who is obliged to use words responsibly, since he believes in words. The anti-Semites have the right to play. They even like to play with discourse for, by giving ridiculous reasons, they discredit the seriousness of their interlocutors. They delight in acting in bad faith, since they seek not to persuade by sound argument but to intimidate and disconcert. If you press them too closely, they will abruptly fall silent, loftily indicating by some phrase that the time for argument is past.

— Jean-Paul Sartre

Right now, Jews are facing extreme levels of these types of rhetorical abuse, and are receiving very little help in the way of pushback.

We have to stop trying to explain ourselves and start just naming these tactics instead.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Extended Parting

Synopsis: After being separated from you for so long, Childe finally finds you again.

Foul Legacy x Reader Pronouns: Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Comfort Warnings: Mentions of blood, physical injuries, fear, pain, crying, allusions to being attacked

Original Request by Anon: requesting requesting! beep bop beep bop ! more foul legacy × reader hurt/comfort, perhaps? :3

hear me out- in the format of a scenario; just pure comfort, reader is perhaps sent of to a dangerous mission/commission while childe is away doing his own thing. when he is going back home however, he stumbles across a group of fatui, taking the reader hostage & hurting them. foul legacy's reaction to his "allies" hurting the love of his life? and how he would take care of the reader after, assuming the reader got pretty severe injuries (even though they're not fetal).

Im a big sucker for this big boi getting all soft when the reader is hurt, and i wanna see more of him just holding the bleeding reader in his arms while trying to comfort them

~ * ~

Two weeks, three days, seven hours, and eight minutes. That’s how long you’ve been apart, how long Childe has gone without being in your presence, and he’s hated every second of it. Important commission, hah! No commission could be so important that it took you away from him for this long- almost half a month! All of your other missions took you a week, tops, and even then he could barely handle it, missing you more and more as each day passed without a single word or letter. Of course, he admits, it’s not like Childe didn’t also have his own duties to attend to during this time, this extended parting. As usual, he was forced to store Ajax and Childe away, slipping on the mask of Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, and taking delight in violent diplomacy. But even fighting and bloodshed did little to satiate his longing for you; how much he wished to see your wonderful smile and that keen twinkle in your eyes, hear your lovely voice, cradle you in his arms and kiss your cheeks- Childe groans, burying his face in his hands. It makes him irritable, constantly yearning for you, and Foul Legacy is even worse. His Abyssal half is constantly clawing at the back of his mind, worrying his talons and whining as he asks why they haven’t seen you yet? Where are you? When will you be back? He wants cuddles something fierce, desperately seeking out the attention and affection you always give him only to find that you’re nowhere near. They’re both so lonely without you, only each other for company, and Childe has to physically bite his hand to prevent Legacy from simply snatching control of their body away and flying off to find you. With a sigh, the Harbinger wipes the blood from his blades, then his hands, and finally his face, ginger hair all wild and unruly. At the very least, today was when he would finally return home to Liyue. He never thought somewhere other than Morepesok could be considered home, but it turns out that “home” is wherever his heart is, and he gave it to you long ago to keep safe from everything that hurts.

Home… Childe’s mind drifts back to the house you both share, a small smile instinctively tugging at his lips. With a quiet snap of his fingers and a salute, his underlings are dismissed- they’ll be going back to the Fatui Headquarters in Snezhnaya. Childe, however, packs his supplies near the road back to the harbor city, waving the agents away, and the moment they’re out of sight his smile widens into a full-on grin, a delighted gleam in his azure eyes. 

Even just thinking about you seems to bring out the best in him, Foul Legacy chirping happily in the back of his head when Childe reassures him that yes, they’ll be seeing you again soon. If you’re done with that horribly long commission of yours, that is, which he’s sure that you are- even the most arduous never take up to three weeks. Despite being exhausted, he finds a spring in his step, dust swirling as his boots land against the dirt path. You, you, you- he’s going to see you again, his beloved and most treasured. Childe almost glows with energetic joy as he jogs, as if he never fell into the Abyss at all. His hand twitches, Foul Legacy begging and pleading to be let out after spending so long locked away, but Childe hushes him gently. You’ve said that you like it when he’s kind to Legacy and Legacy is kind to him- they are part of each other, after all, and you love both of them- so he tries to treat the monster as a friend rather than a weapon, and with a huff Legacy settles back down. Something faint and distant as the moon pierces the night, and Childe pauses, ears pricking. He tilts his head to listen, and for a moment he hears nothing but silence. Until- there, there! A scream! It’s far off, over the next hill, but unmistakably there. Even from a distance Childe can hear the desperation, the terror burning into his bones like a raging fire with a familiarity that makes him stop in his tracks.

No… no, it couldn’t be. It can’t be- Please, please let him be wrong- Childe’s feet carry him towards the sound, dread spiraling and twisting in his gut as another awful shriek rings out and he looks up, eyes widening. He was right. Oh, he was right, and he wishes he wasn’t, because it’s you. It’s you, gripping your weapon like a vice and covered in blood, expression filled with panic and fear and pain. It’s you, still in your adventurer’s gear, bag packed with whatever stupid, insignificant item the commission wanted. It’s you, surrounded by Fatui agents- not his, thank the Archons- the rest of them laughing and sneering. It’s you, hurt and scared and looking as if you’re about to collapse onto the ground and never rise. It’s you, and Childe’s veins freeze over with cold, splintering ice. You’re pressed against a ruined wall, swiping the blade in your hands at the soldiers, who merely snicker at your weakened attempts. The leader- one of those Electro vanguards with a giant hammer- smacks the weapon aside and seizes your arm, and you let out an involuntary yelp of pain as tears prick in your eyes. The yelp is all the motivation he needs, and Childe barely feels his restraint shatter like glass. They never even saw it coming, Foul Legacy throwing his spear and ripping the agents apart as fast as lightning, vibrant purple sparks searing the grass as he roars, driven only by wrath and fury. The vanguard who grabbed you so violently shouts in surprise and horror- then everything goes silent, apart from Legacy’s heavy breathing, claws dripping with blood. He exhales, curling his talons into fist with a tight crackling noise, letting out a low, guttural growl of rage. You bite down fiercely on your tongue, trying to stay quiet, but you can’t help but gasp in pain as the slashes in your body flare, and Foul Legacy’s anger burns away as quickly as a dying candle. He turns and rushes to you, chittering frantically, only to freeze when he sees you stiffen, petrified with fright. His chirps and trills lower to soft croons, gentle and sweet and familiar, crouching slowly to your height and holding out a hand. He tentatively inches forward, hand extended and palm up, claws curling delicately around your wrist when you desperately reach for him. “A-Ajax…?” Legacy’s Abyssal heart cracks, and he swiftly gathers you in his arms, whimpering and nudging his forehead against your cheeks as you cling to him and let out anguished, hitching cries. You suck in a breath when his talons ghost over a wound, and Legacy almost sobs with despair. Some part of him- the rational, trained soldier that is Childe- tells him to get you home, heal you, make sure that you’re well- he carefully gets to his feet, holding you close to his armored chest and adjusting your head so it’s pillowed by his lavender fluff. You shudder with pain again, and Legacy gently licks his tongue over the shallow scrapes on your face, cooing softly; with a flutter of his glimmering wings he takes to the sky, his arms cradling you like you’re made of crystal and gold.

He lands near your shared home not ten minutes later, hastily unlocking the door with the key he always sees Childe using. The house is quiet and a little dusty from being empty for so long, but your bed is as soft as ever as Legacy delicately lowers you down onto the mattress. Childe is the one who tells him what to do, again, guiding his claws to gently wrap your wounds with snow white gauze. None of them are fatal, and Legacy thanks his constellation with a grumbling sigh of relief. A quiet croon slips out when he sees you fading in and out of consciousness, sweetly cupping your cheek with a clawed hand- he’s shaking. Why is he shaking? He’s not the one who nearly died- but your hand comes up to weakly grasp his, and Legacy’s heart melts and breaks and patches itself up all over again.

Your lips twitch into a shaky smile, exhausted, your fingers resting on Legacy’s and soothing the minute trembles running through his body. The Abyssal creature- your wonderful, sweet Abyssal creature- blinks slowly at you, crystalline eye filled with tears that drip down his crimson face and pool in the divots of his mask as he fights to contain the sobs that threaten to break out, and when you reach up your other hand, covered in bandages, to caress his cheek, his breath hitches and he collapses into your arms, burying his head against your neck and weeping. In a whispered voice you coo and murmur and hum to him, repeated words of “it’s okay, I’m here, I’m okay”, and he tries so, so hard to do it back to you, his own sounds cracked and stuttering, something along the lines of “don’t leave, I miss you, I’m sorry”, or as close as he can say with a mouth made for biting and gnashing. Your hands lightly tug him closer- or rather, your hands tiredly loosen and he moves to follow them- until he’s close enough for you to press a soft kiss to his forehead. Legacy immediately purrs, tearful and whimpering, and your silent offer of lifting up the blanket is met with an instance moth monster at your side, curling around your body and holding you close. He’s careful not to squeeze you, trying to get as close as possible and mold his form around yours as you rake your hands through his fluffy coppery hair, drawing more deep, comforting rumbles from within his chest, the type he makes when you’re dreadfully ill.

Cats’ purrs are healing, so you’ve heard. Perhaps Abyssal beasts’ purrs are much the same. Slowly, your eyes begin to droop, and you yawn, exhausted and worn. Foul Legacy quietly nudges you, a croon of reassurance falling from his fanged maw, claws dancing over the wraps on your skin now stained brilliant red. It hurts, it hurts like fire- but you’re safe. Safe in your bed, and in Legacy’s arms, and the tension leeches from you and dissipates into nothing. You vaguely hear a soft melody, low and rumbling and familiar from when you’ve sung Foul Legacy to sleep, and the arms around you tighten ever so slightly as the sun finally dips beneath the horizon into the locked box of night. Two weeks, three days, eight hours, and thirty minutes. That’s how long Foul Legacy refused to let you out of his sight, even after your injuries had closed and healed.

[yandere-romanticaa]

can you feel my heart?

❝ can you hear the silence? can you see the dark? can you fix the broken? can you feel, can you feel my heart? ❞

synopsis: Your love for Albedo burns brighter than any flame, but what happens when an imposter ruins everything? Furthermore, what else awaits once you start walking side by side with the imposter, only for him to end up falling for you instead?

yandere! imposter! albedo x gn! reader

a/n: this story was originally published back in earlyish 2022 and I haven't really touched it since. It was better received on my Quotev account, in which I also wrote a chapter two. However, I recently got the spark back to maybe continue this and if there's a demand, I'll post the 2nd chapter on here too and try to continue it.

The echoes of footsteps rang in your ears as you desperately tried to keep your vision steady and clear, but the endless amounts of ice and snow decided to make that task difficult for you. You had just recently stepped foot into Dragonspine, the urge to help out your friends too strong to stop. Amber had recently complained to you that a lot of strange things had been happening on Dragonspine and while she never dwelled on the details you could tell that something was terribly wrong. You were hardly a seasoned adventurer, if you could be even called one. Most of your commissions stemmed from collecting herbs, helping the locals, keeping guard of trade routes and simply cleaning up the great statue of Barbatos, which would take you countless hours because you did not posses a Vision. Even so you weren't too shabby with a sword and you had been on the icy mountain countless times much to everyone's surprise. Ever since the sudden Stromterror attack on the city, Albedo became a wonderful ally as he took you under his wing to show you all of the beauty and mysteries the world could offer. You sat through countless lectures, written and read endless theses and notes but you still lusted for more, just as much as Albedo did.

The only difference was, knowledge wasn't the only thing you craved in the long run.

It really wasn't that hard to fall for the alchemist, he was so oddly charming that you couldn't help but to be utterly smitten. He had his quirks that others thought were strange but you adored them, it were those little habits that made Albedo, well, Albedo. You wouldn't change anything about him. Your silent adoration came with a price, a price your poor heart just wasn't ready to pay - you had to suffer all by your lonesome. Albedo clearly did not see you in such a light, you were just a student and a friend to him. You doubted he even noticed your longing stares let alone the frantic beating of your heart.

Being in love was hard.

But not being loved back was even worse.

You silently hoped that by doing these tasks he would notice you, he would see you as his equal and hopefully more but that was asking for too much. You were willing to settle for anything, that's how desperate you were. Dragonspine was more than a training ground to you, it was a chance, a chance for you to seize and conquer the heart of the person you admired the most in this world because if you didn't, it felt as though the earth itself would open and it's jaws would swallow you whole! ...well, that is a bit dramatic but that really was how you felt. Even if you couldn't have him, even if he could not love you, just being by his side should be enough for you. Just seeing his face was more than enough to brighten your day.

And the day was yours to seize.

Straight ahead a bit higher on the path was Albedo, a small smile on his handsome face face as he outstretched his arm towards you, a sign that he was going to help you climb up further onto the mountain. You hid the blush that creeped up on you with the soft scarf that you wore, he really was a true gentleman. Times like this became incredibly precious to you as he would finally show you his softer side and you would end up falling in love all over again with him. He greeted you kindly and linked your hand with his own as he lead you down the Snow Covered Path towards the campsite, a comfortable silence between the two of you. Despite the wind and chilly ice, the sun was high up in the sky and its rays outstretched far into the horizon, the soft orange hues bathed the tall mountains in a ethereal glow that made you feel so warm on the inside. The company you had also made things even better than they already were.

"You look so happy right now, I could almost paint you."

Stopping dead in your tracks you turned to Albedo, his comment had caught you off guard. A bright smile was plastered all over his face, his eyes were glimmering with a mischief that you only saw on a few rare occasions. Still, he never said something like this to you, never. 

Archons, was your heart going to explode?

Your stunned silence started to scare him a little so he tried to comfort you by putting his hand on your shoulder, not knowing what kind of impact this entire situation left on you. You swore on your life and everything you ever owned that if a boulder just fell from the sky and crushed you to bits you would die happy. 

Making haste, you quickly ran in front of him, telling him to hurry up unless he wants to stay here out in the open until the sun sets, making this place even more dangerous than it already was. He laughed a little and caught up with you, making sure to throw some snow at you while he could. The two of you walked like that for a while, just enjoying the scenery and each others company before it was time to buckle up and get serious. It was so refreshing to see him like this, so happy and carefree. He was oddly chatty with you today though, which wasn't too unusual but it was indeed noticable. Albedo usually stated the facts and the truth, with the occasional joke if he was in the mood for it but he seemed to be quite talkative today, not that you complained. He asked you how your day was and what you did, while also sharing his own activities with you. He didn't have a lot of time to paint today unfortunately but he did finally manage to get some of his notes and experiments in order, allowing him for more free time in the upcoming days. Still chatting away with him you made sure to take the turn you usually took to get to his camp but before you could he stopped you by suddenly grabbing your wrist. Odd, you thought to yourself.

"Your camp is right here, isn't it? We always take the turn here, I know we do." 

"It is but... I was having some issues so I had to switch locations, unfortunately. Here, come this way instead."

Gripping your wrist a little too tight than you would have liked, Albedo randomly just shoved you into the opposite direction, leaving you confused, downright dazed. You could have sworn that you saw some fire flickering near the entrance but you couldn't even comment on it with how hard and fast he was going right now. The happy atmosphere shifted into this very tense and awkward one, the sheer quietness was so thick you could almost cut it with a butter knife. Only the sound of your footsteps and of the bustling wind remained. You were tempted to speak up but you ended up opposing the idea as Albedo was in a very troubled mood. Was his camp raided, did someone steal something that wasn't supposed to be seen? Albedo did have quite a lot of strange but powerful things lying around the place, it's possible that someone stole some of his notes or tampered with his projects while he was outside of the hideout. Yes that must be it, you reasoned with yourself. Why else would he be acting like this? 

"We're here."

Huh, well that was fast. 

The new camp was located on the opposite side of the mountain and it was buried deep inside of a hard to find cave but he was smart enough to leave a few scratch marks on the wall in order for it to be identified. Not so large to be remembered by random travelers but not too small to be forgotten by him either. Quite smart of him, as usual. 

Letting go of your hand, he offered to take your coat off your hands while you made yourself warmer by the fire. Letting out a sigh of relief you allow the soft flames to tickle your chilly fingers. The sudden smell of meat being cooked overtook your senses, causing you to let out a cheerful laugh. Turning your head to the side you noticed Albedo tending to his own flame, a nice, large black pot was placed over it, filled with meat and hearty veggies, perfect for a delicious stew. His eyes sparkled with joy as he grabbed a nearby spoon and carefully stirred the stew, the intense smell of it even made his stomach grumble. A comfortable silence overcame the two of you, much to your relief. That earlier interaction made you feel a little tense but it was nice seeing him in high spirits again, even a genius like him gets lonely from time to time, you pondered to yourself. Your train of thought was stopped suddenly once you noticed the unsatisfied scowl on Albedo's pretty face. Frustration was written all over it as he suddenly stood up from his chair and grabbed his jacket and bag.

"I need to go out and get a herb or two, I'll be back before you know it. There should be some nearby, they'll make the stew that much more delicious."

With his back turned to you he started walking towards the exit, but before he left he had one final thing to say to you.

"Feel free to stir that thing every once and a while, maybe even read a book if you get too bored. But don't touch anything on that table in the corner, okay?"

His tone was gentle and the request was simple so you nodded with a smile on your face, saluting him in the process. With a chuckle he turned his back to you once more as he existed the cave, his footsteps were getting farther and farther away from the cave.

Soon enough you were all by your lonesome, your only companions being the few scraps of paper that were littered on the ground, the boiling pot and the crackling fire that sat next to you. You grabbed the wooden spoon and examined it in your hand, while also keeping an eye on the stew. The hearty smell made your tummy grumble which caused you to let out a semi loud groan as you dramatically held your stomach with your free hand, your eyes still zoned in on the food. You sat there for a few minutes, just enjoying the peace and quiet. It didn't take long for your stomach to act out again, begging you to just eat something. Besides, who knew when Albedo was coming back anyway. He was definitely more familiar with the mountain and terrain than you were but that still didn't change the fact that you were starving. 

Standing up from the chair you decided to look around for something to munch on before your companion turned up once more. There were a couple of old oak tables in the cave with thousands of books and even more notes scattered across their surfaces, a clear sign that Albedo had been quite busy for a while now. You quickly scanned through everything but nothing caught your eye, to top it off there was no food in sight. He probably used up the rest of his leftover supplies to cook this little feast that was bubbling away in the corner, but you digress. 

Your fingers gently traced the edges of the tables as you occasionally stopped to go through the various documents, even tidying up little areas here and there. Albedo really could be sloppy sometimes which why you took this tiny liberty. As you stood there with several books in your hands you couldn't help but to look at the table in corner, the one table Albedo warned you not to go anywhere near. You first turned your head to the side, a little angry at yourself for even letting the curious thought wander into your mind but the more you wandered around, the more fidgety you became. For starters that table was suspiciously tidier than the rest but somehow had even more junk on it compared to the others. An old lamp was on it, the wick inside of it was clearly lit not too long ago. You didn't even notice that the sun had started to set and just how colder and darker your surroundings had become. The only heat source was the fire that cooked your dinner, but even that threatened to go out any moment now. You had some matches in your pocket, surely you could light up this one lantern... right? You cautiously walked towards the forbidden corner, the contents on it remaining a complete mystery to you due to the darkness that continued to expand all around you. You were barely able to make out the small lantern, it's lid already open a little bit. You reached out to your pocket and took out your matches and tried to light them up. The first one went out almost immediately. The second one stayed lit for a few seconds but before you could even get it close to the lantern, it also faded. Grumbling to yourself, you grabbed a third match and prayed to the Archons to just let you light this stupid thing already. With a steady motion, you carefully tried to grab the lantern with your other free hand but you didn't even realize just how shaky you were. The match suddenly slipped right past your fingers and the lit flame fell onto the papers that were beneath you. With a shriek you picked everything up hastily while also trying to repair the damages you stupidity caused. You cursed yourself for your clumsiness, who knew how Albedo was going to react? He even told you not to go near this dumb table, you really should have listened to him... He was definitely going to notice what you did, so, you might as well try fixing them up while you could... That would hopefully make him a little less angry with you.

Stepping closer to the entrance, you held the papers tightly to your chest as the strong wind almost knocked you over, but your determination was unwavering. You were going to fix this mess and that's final. With the few glimmers of light you finally looked at the contents of the papers, but instead of the usual notes that you were used to you were met with something much more... gruesome.

With a shriek, you threw the papers to the ground, but your eyes remained glued to them none the less. Icy chills coarsed through your veins as you looked at the images that were staring back at you, another scream threatening to break out. 

On the ground was a drawing of a mutilated Albedo, with another Albedo that was standing above him with a bloody sword in his hand and a devilish sneer on his lips. The image itself was already disturbing, but it were the little details what caused you to freak out so much. The look of absolute fear in his eyes, the organs that were ripped apart from his stomach and were tossed so carelessly to the ground. His intestine decorated the bottom part of the page like grass as the Albedo above him held his weapon, his sneer forever engraved in your mind. You didn't even notice him holding a bloody heart in his other hand, the fist was high up in the air, like it was being shot up into the moon. 

With shaky knees you crouched and took the papers in your hands and examined all of them. Some contained notes in a language which you could not decipher, the sharp penmanship made you woozy. Other pieces of parchment contained more drawings, each more disturbing than the last one. Human hearts, the general human anatomy, several scenes across Dragonspine were all drawn with a simple pencil but what stuck out the most were the portraits of Albedo, Sucrose and yourself. All of them were done with pristine detail, there was obvious care put into every little line. You sprinted towards the table, your anxiety skyrocketing beyond the roof, You moved everything around, hoping to find something that would explain the gory and eerie drawings but instead of answers you were met with even more questions - several pictures were hung up on the wall in front of you, all of them had Albedo as the center focus. It was him walking, eating, studying, drawing, sleeping, living...

It was beyond disturbing.

There were hundreds of little notes stuck and hidden in any corner of the table, all of which contained information about Albedo and his life. His height, his clothing, weight, everything was there. Your lungs felt like ice as you hyperventilated, your mind just couldn't comprehend what was going on. Why was he keeping so many methodical notes about himself, what was up with these sick drawings? Sick, there really was no other word to describe them. Repulsive, disgusting, sick, it was too much to handle.

To add more fuel to the fire, you suddenly felt a thin blade being pressed against your neck.

[just-a-ghost00]

All I want for Christmas…

Ever wondered is someone was desperately wishing to kiss you under the mistletoe? Well, here is your chance to find out. This reading is mainly meant for singles, whether you have someone in mind or not. But of course nothing forbids you from reading this PAC if you’re already in a relationship with someone, especially if this person is not by your side currently and you want to see if they miss you as much as you do.

Group 1

Overall energy | 10 of swords rx, knight of cups, 7 of wands

You may be in a no contact situation with the person we are talking about. This is someone that has a hard time moving on from their past but that also could have a hard time accepting the situation you are currently in. It feels like there has been a disconnect between you and/or you have conflicting views about the connection. Despite this misunderstanding and possible argument, this person holds a lot of affection for you and wishes to express their feelings for you. This is a person that feels grateful for your presence in their life because you came in at a time when they were struggling and supported them in this difficult cycle. You could be feeling the same towards this person. This is someone that, despite the disconnect, still wishes to fight for the connection and prove they care about you. They may be attached to you and the support you were providing them with.

Physical traits | 5 of wands, 8 of swords, 9 of swords, queen of cups rx

This is someone that may be a bit out of shape. They look stressed out and tired. So they may have eye bags, grey hairs. They may lose their hair often. They have long hair. They could have bad eyesight so they may wear glasses or contact lenses. They may squint their eyes a lot. They look wary or constantly on their guards. They may hunch their back a lot or have a slumped position. They may look sleepy or like their mind is elsewhere. Their eyes are glossy, watery. They could be petite. They have a very discreet style. This person doesn't put a lot of effort into their appearance. They wear very practical and simple clothes. Dull colors. They have an appearance that doesn't stand out that much. Like they blend in the crowds. They may wear a lot of skirts and dresses. I'm picking up on modest wear, old school fashion. A bit of a gloomy vibe. The type of wear that people would have worn to Church a long time ago. They look like they are not comfortable in their skin. So maybe they wear clothes that don't fit them or don't reflect their true style/essence.

Confirmation signs | Queen of wands, ace of cups, Judgement, Queen of pentacles, The Magician

This could be someone that is of the same gender as you are. This could resonate with you if you are a member of or an ally of the LGBTQIA+ community. This could be someone that you confessed to but rejected you in the past. In terms of zodiac signs, we have Leo, Taurus, Gemini that are coming up, as well as Scorpio and maybe a bit of Libra. This could be someone that is trying to manifest you. This could be a person that you met through dating apps. This could be someone that you met either during the Summer or Fall of any year. The numbers 1, 6 and 20 can be significant. So if we take those as possible dates or time frames, we have January 6 / June 1, the 20th of any month, the years 2001/2006/2020. This person can be of the same age as you or if there's an age gap, the gap is quite small. This can be a person that is a bit of a smooth talker.

Group 2

Overall energy | 10 of wands, 3 of swords, 6 of cups

This is a person that is going through a difficult phase in their life. They could be a childhood/teenage years friend of yours. This person has a lot of weight on their shoulders. They may be doing a job that asks of them a lot of sacrifice and sense of responsibility. They could be a single parent. This could be someone that you recently broke up with. Again, I get a no contact vibe from this group. This person is feeling extremely sad. This may be because they feel betrayed in the situation or deeply affected by the fact that things didn't work out between you despite their genuine feelings. This is a person that possibly viewed you as a soulmate and they are now reminiscing about the past when it comes to you. They miss you dearly and I feel like they are defeated. If you know this person, you may not suspect that they are so affected by whatever happened. This may be a person that tends to wear masks as to hide their vulnerability, especially in front of the people they like.

Physical traits | 8 of cups, 5 of cups, 6 of pentacles rx, ace of wands

I get sad boy/ girl energy from this person. They have a rather round face, watery puppy eyes. An upside down smile or some sort of happy/unhappy frown. They look very soft and fragile. Like a doll. Their skin is very pale. Like they don't see the light of day kind of feeling as they spend most of their time indoors, crying over the loss of your connection. They may be a bit out of shape especially around the face. They could have puffy eyes, puffy cheeks. They body looks tense, agitated. They appear as clumsy, messy, hasty. If they have bangs, they could let it grow to the point where it hides their eyes. Kind of an emo vibe, if that is still a thing. Again, this is a person that wears rather dull colored clothes. Clothes that are oversized and kinda make them look like a ghost. Long sleeved shirts and t-shirts, hoodies, stuff like that. I get also a bit of a neglected but trendy look. Like, even if this person isn't at their best, they still kinda want to look good. Like "sappy is the new sexy" kind of vibe. I also get a siren vibe from them. So they may enhance their eyes specifically. Like wearing big glasses or putting a lot of eyeliner, long eyelashes, wearing color changing contacts. With the ace of wands, I feel like there may be little details in their appearance that may give people the idea that they can burst any time. Kinda like they're on edge. Also, this person could be particularly tall and skinny.

Confirmation signs | 6 of wands, Empress, 7 of cups, King of cups, Magician

In terms of zodiac signs, we have Leo, Taurus, Scorpio, Gemini, Pisces. For numbers, we have 6/3/7/1. So this could relate to the months of June, July, March and January. This could also relate to dates such as the 6th, 3rd, 7th or 1st of any month. We have dates like June 3, March 6, July 1, January 7, March 7, July 3, June 7, July 6, June 1, January 6, January 3, March 1. This person could be older than you or have a higher status. This is a person that despite their current emotional state, is pretty successful academically, professionally, financially. You could have met this person at a party or celebration of some sort. This could be someone that is flirty, entertains several relationships and/or has several projects they are working on on the side. They are a good manifestor. You could have felt like this person was a wish come true for you when you met them. They may own a pet for some, like a little bird. They could like horses. This person could live at a distance from you.

Group 3

Overall energy | 9 of pentacles, 10 of pentacles, 3 of pentacles, 10 of wands, 3 of cups

When it comes to zodiac signs, the cards highlight Earth signs, especially Taurus, as well as Leo and Pisces. The numbers 3 and 10 seem to be significant. So those could pertain to the months of March and October, or the 3rd / 10th of any month. We have the energy here of someone that is very busy with their work and material aspects of their life. This could be someone that you know through work/school. For some of you, this person can be a friend. Either this person has a secret crush on you or vice versa. For some of you this is a friendship that is bordering on becoming a romantic connection. They could come from a well established family. This is someone that is dealing with a lot of responsibilities, either because they are living alone (especially if they're a student) or because they are a single parent for some. This is a person that is very hardworking and may currently spend most of their time either stuck at home or working. They like to relieve stress by spending time with a few friends they trust or connecting with their siblings. This person could be a teacher.

Physical traits | Temperance, 6 of swords, Devil, Hermit, Fool

First of all, I have to point out that pretty much all cards are major arcanas. So there's something to this person's vibe and aura that is just huge. No matter their body shape or look, this person remains imposing and impressive to a lot of people. They always leave a strong impression, whether people like them or not. They have long hair that are likely to be dark. They appear as very feminine in nature. So either this person is a woman or could identify as such. They have soft but striking features. They could have a bit of a tanned skin. They could be hispanic or North African, Mediterranean overall. This person could have eyesight issues. Their body structure is quite balanced. I feel like this person blends well in a crowd, they tend to be discreet but if you take time to look at them you can be struck by their beauty. This is a person that has a very natural beauty. They barely wear makeup, they have never undergone any aesthetical surgery, they have no tattoo nor piercings. Yet, they are extremely sensual in nature. They may have a bit of a naive look. Like their head is constantly in the clouds. This could be someone that tends to look at their feet or up in the air, but never directly at people. They give off a bit of a loner vibe. I feel like their fashion style is very simple but it looks very good on them and adds to their allure. This person is charming by default just because of their energy. This is a person that may look very basic on the outside but is incredibly attractive and beautiful on the inside, because of their mentality and the values they cultivate. They may wear their headphones/earphones quite a lot.

Confirmation signs | 6 of pentacles, Justice, 7 of swords, 8 of pentacles, White Numen

Zodiac signs : Taurus again, Scorpio and Libra. Numbers 6, 7, 8, 9 could be pertaining to months from June to September. Possible dates could include June 7, July 6, August 9, September 8 among other possibilities. This is a person that you may interact with through social media. You may not know this person very well. Meaning, you've never met in person. This is someone that you could stalk and/or someone that stalks you. You may have had a disagreement with this person. They are currently focused on their work and this may be one of the reasons you are not in contact with them. This could be someone that you have common passions with or work on similar projects with. This person is generous. They may have given you money or they frequently donate to charity. They could work for the government. This is someone that is constantly on the go.

[bbydoll18xx]

Baby, I Don't Want to Feel Alone

Paige is the sunshine that cuts through your darkness.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Based on this request from @tenaciousglitternerd

Word Count: 1.1k

Themes: mentions of depression/anxiety, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wrote this while sobbing and listening to one direction. I hope this doesn't suck. Love you all

~

Depression was a funny, little thing.

It was unwavering, cloaking you in insecurities and uncertainty that clouded the hope that used to shine from your eyes. 

But you managed just fine. 

At least that’s the mantra you constantly repeated in your head, hoping that maybe one day it would make the words ring true. 

This night was no different. You had finished all your homework, grateful for the distraction, but you were now pacing the floors of your dorm room. The anxiety was welling up inside of you. Your breathing quickened, and your heart was racing in your chest. 

You put your hand over your heart, trying to soothe yourself, but the creeping feeling of dread was flooding your senses. 

You hated feeling like this. It was as if all control had been ripped from your being, leaving you a vulnerable skeleton of a person. You were quickly getting to the point of no return, and you needed to pump the breaks. You needed someone to ground you.

With shaky hands, you grab your phone, sending a text to Jana, hoping it came across urgent enough but not completely needy.

You hated feeling needy. 

You were raised to hide your emotions, and it had taken several years being away from that environment to reprogram your brain into believing that vulnerability was not a weakness. 

Jana was someone who encouraged you to let down your walls, and with that, you had built a friendship with her and her teammates.

Jana’s reply comes quickly. ‘The apartment is empty. I’ll be back in 30. Make yourself at home.’

You waste no time throwing on a sweatshirt and grabbing your keys, desperately needing to get out of the four walls that had begun closing in on you. 

The bitter chill of the autumnal air stings your eyes and your throat as you walk across campus. It was a welcomed distraction from the hurricane of thoughts swirling in your head. You sniffle, and you blame it on the cold rather than the tears welling up in your eyes. 

You had to keep it together. Once that barrier was crossed, you weren’t sure if you’d ever come back. 

You walk through the door, and the quiet spooks you. Jana lived with Paige, and Allie, too. But living with Paige came with the chaos and exuberance that seemed to follow her everywhere she went.

You close the door, not caring to be overtly quiet and throw yourself down on the couch. The blanket that is thrown across the pillows smells like Paige.

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for the tears to stream down your face, washing away any hope of maintaining your air of indifference. 

The truth was that you had feelings for Paige for months now. How could you not? 

She was everything good in the miserable, stinking world. She was laughter and light personified. She was caring and smart and funny and so, so pretty. 

Why would she ever want someone like you?

The poignant realization adds to your melancholy, throwing you into another spiral.

Sobs wrack your body as you pull your legs up to your core, curling yourself into a ball as the tears soak the cushions. 

A small creak sounds through the empty room, and your pulse quickens as you look towards the door, expecting Jana to walk in. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You hear, and your head whips towards the voice.

Paige is standing in her doorway with a confused look shrouding her features. She pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose as she walks over to where you are. 

Swiftly wiping your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, you hastily apologize. “Jana said I could come over and that no one was home. Didn’t mean to bother you,” you say, your voice cracking and thick with more unshed tears. 

“Hey,” she says, sitting down next to you. “It’s all good, just tell me what’s wrong.” She brings a thumb to brush away a stray tear that you missed, and as she does, a few more fall in its place. 

Her reassurance makes you fall apart. Your bottom lip wobbles, as another sob erupts in your chest, rattling through you. 

“Just havin’ a bad day. Didn’t want to be alone.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, as you looked down at the wet sleeves of your sweatshirt.

Paige’s hand touches your chin gently, making you look her in the eye. “I’m here,” she pronounces, tucking you into her side and maneuvering your legs to lay over her lap.

Her presence was warm and safe, like coming home after a long, shitty day, and you sink into her. You sit with her in silence, listening to her breathing as yours evens out. 

Paige’s hands leave your thigh to entwine your fingers with hers, as you marvel at the soft skin and the prominent veins running through them, proof that she was in fact real.

Things seemed a little too okay to be real. 

“Feelin’ better?” She asks, as her tongue peeks out to swipe across the pink plushness of her bottom lip.

“This is the calmest I've felt in a long time,” you confess, your cheeks turning pink at your own admission. 

“Thought you hated me, or whatever. You always seem to avoid me,” Paige mumbles.

Her candor sends shock waves through your body, washing you in regret.

“I could never hate you, Paige,” you whisper, your gaze dropping back down to her lips.

She slowly leans in, making your breath quicken. She was close enough that you could feel her own breath fan across your face. Your eyes flutter close, and you feel her fingers ghost across your cheek. 

The loud noise of the front door being opened shocks you, as you quickly pull away from the blonde girl, and your eyes fly open, darting towards Jana as she walks in.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” She asks with a giant smirk plastered on her face as she crosses her arms in an accusatory fashion. 

“Oh, my god, you knew Paige was here, didn’t you?” You exclaim, pointing a finger at Jana.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,” she shrugs, but the twinkle in her eyes gives her away instantly. 

Paige’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What is going on?”

“She likes you, and she was sad. I knew you’d fix her right up,” Jana reasons with a grin. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong,” you mumble. 

“What can I say,” Paige boasts. “I make everything better.” 

You roll your eyes but you could not deny it. 

She pulls you in for a kiss, confirming that she really does make everything better.

~

hii everyone sorry i've been lowkey MIA. Please let me know what you think. I think this kind of healed something in me

As always, my inbox is always open. And I’m always here if you guys need to talk :)

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@fullladypanda-blog, @omg-imtumbling, @tenaciousglitternerd, @oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half, @patscorner, @sophswbb, @dietcokesmom, @tndaqlifwy, @ch12334, @double22, @inthedeathofherreptuation, @authentic-girl03, @blueredg52 , @kmoneymartini , @mrsarnold, @ittiwdwysylm

Want to be added to my taglist? Comment or send me a message :)

[zarnzarn]

Penelope wakes up to the sound of screams.

With a gasp, she sits upright, straining her ears. The carnage is at the far end of the castle, the shouting and clanking of metal- but it is not her maids, or her soldiers who are dying.

It is the suitors.

Penelope swings her legs out of bed, silently making her way over to her mirror. She lights a candle and starts doing her hair and makeup, thanking the stars that she fell asleep in her best dress that night, and it was still fresh looking.

She looks at her own face in the mirror, older and lined. Feels her lips pull down as vanity passes over her, tugging at the unruly grey strands that poke out of her head, half-urgently trying to smooth out her face.

"Penelope," Athena says as she leans over her, eyes dancing with amusement. Athena, who has not appeared to her in four years. Her face is speckled with blood and her chest is heaving with fury- she must be down there too, in the bloodbath. "You know it doesn't matter."

"Can't I want to look my best?" She snaps, slamming her makeup box shut. Walks over to the chest that holds her jewellery and starts putting it on. "Sixteen years I have not seen my husband, I think I'm quite past anyone telling me what to do with regards to finally seeing him again."

A cautionary voice in her head screams at her to stop antagonizing Athena, so close to finally being whole, but when she turns, the goddess only has regret in her eyes.

"I am sorry, Penelope," She says, and Penelope stills, more than aware that it was very likely no one had ever received an apology from this goddess before. "Time passes differently in Olympus. What was four days ended up being four years, when I looked."

Tears prick at her eyes, but she forces them back with a sharp inhale. "That would explain it," She says roughly. "How much longer?"

Athena approaches her, armour clanking, and tilts her face up. When she presses a kiss to Penelope's forehead, she feels some of the desperate madness of the past years dissipate, leaving behind the sorrow-less certainty that she had been wise to wait, that she had been right.

Athena smiles. "Go."

-

She sees him before he sees her.

At first glance, she knows him, blood drenched and older though he is. He stands in the main hall, surrounded by bodies, and moves sharp and precise and inevitable as he takes down suitor after suitor, with none of them able to so much as land a scratch on him. Quick, moving in and out, with a tall, masked figure by his side and-

She clicks her tongue in exasperation, smiling. Sixteen and bloodthirsty, Telemachus stands by their side with furious satisfaction in his eyes as he clumsily shoots down each suitor that gets too close.

That absolute brat. He planned this! No wonder he was so happy this whole past week, when he'd been so morose the entire month before.

Penelope watches from the high balcony. Her trusted maids and all the subjects of the kingdom that still remain come running up the steps to help, some from the far reaches of the town, all gleeful- Ithaka is small, and shouts carry. She can see torches being lit across the city, when she looks, more rushing to the palace, taking out the retinues that had accompanied the men.

She takes a deep breath and makes her way down the stairs.

The brick walls around her swim in and out of focus as she walks, curiously far away. Her sandals sound out against stone.

She had been right. All these years, all this waiting- she had been right.

When she reaches the curtain, she stops and swallows. Sixteen years of waiting. She had promised him she would spend it happy, not grieve him before he was dead- and she had. Enjoyed the power, enjoyed raising her son, learning how to let the moments of grief rush over her and pass by every time she turned to see empty air. Made friends, gained allies, became skilled in politics like no other woman could so openly be. Ithaka flourished under her.

Let it end, she prays. Let that all be past from tonight.

She would give everything up for one more day with her husband.

Her hands are trembling when she pushes aside the curtain.

Odysseus stands in the middle of the room, panting as the last suitor falls, covered in blood. He's ragged, weary, scarred from all the horrors of whatever made him come back to Ithaka alone. Behind him, what looks like the entire kingdom stands together crowded as they stare, the ones who knew him crying themselves in shock, the ones who didn't studying him warily.

Telemachus says something and points to Penelope and she can see him stop breathing, same as her, when their eyes finally meet.

"Penelope," He breathes, swaying forward as he drops his weapons.

"Odysseus," She chokes out, as she forces herself to stop a distance away. Tries not to cry at the blatant hurt in his eyes as she does, at the frown Athena and Telemachus send her way. Feels rage climb in her chest- wants to scream at them both, at them all, that they cannot blame her. "You have returned."

"I have." He takes a step forward and they both shake. "To you. For you. I promised, didn't I?"

"Mother!" Telemachus bursts forth, dismayed. "Why won't you embrace him? It's father, it's really him, you waited so long for this moment!"

"You were too young to remember the shapeshifters that besieged our palace after Troy, my son," She says sadly. Watches grief at the fact settle in Odysseus' expression, then the devastated acceptance of her distance, tries not to let her emotions overweigh her caution at the love in his eyes as he allows her to do so.

Odysseus laughs suddenly, and her heart aches, her muscles cramp from how tightly she holds herself back, as he casually places an elbow on his son's head to lean on him, flashing her one of those grins she remembers so fondly, of the two of them being the only ones on the inside of a joke. It must be him, right? No shapeshifter could be so skilled, to embody the movements of his entire body so. "Don't worry so much, Tel. Your mother doesn't look at me unless I'm dressed in my best clothing- she would refuse to accept it was me either way, when I'm covered in all this blood."

Penelope aches. Penelope aches.

"So then I assume you wouldn't mind waiting until the daylight?" She smiles, half-fake. Her heart pounds as she turns to Eumeus and says, "Move our bed to the main hall for him, would you? I-"

She can't bring herself to speak further, turning back too quickly to look. Her stomach drops as Odysseus straightens back up with shock, her heart flips as hurt flashes over his face, and she's already running as he says in confusion and anger, "Damn you, woman! Did you take an axe to our fucking bed when I was gone-"

"It is you!" She exclaims as she throws herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as tight as she can. She sobs, and sixteen years of missing him spring to the surface all at once as she gasps for air in between tears, a smile on her face as she finally lets her mask fall. "Oh gods, oh Olympus, it's you, it's really actually you!"

Odysseus doesn't move for a moment under her, then says in a thick voice, "You fucking trickster."

And finally, finally, hugs her back.

"Don't be angry with me," She begs, voice devastated with her crying as she hangs off him. Holds onto him as if he'll disappear, escape her grasp again if she lets him go. "Don't be angry, please, I beg you, don't be irritated, or annoyed, I couldn't bear it-"

So long overdue was this reunion, and she spoiled it with her paranoia; if the first thing she did as a wife when no husband would do what he'd done for her was disappoint him-

"I am not," Odysseus says gently, cradling her face, holding her with the same desperation. Her ears burn with the sound of his voice, no longer a memory she had to guard fiercely against forgetting, every syllable just the same as she remembers it, saying new words. "I understand why, my love, trust me, I am only happy. I am only happy."

Penelope wails, her crown crashing to the floor with the force of it, shoulders shaking, and Odysseus holds her closer.

"Oh, Penelope," He whispers sadly. His voice cracks and he breaks down in tears too as they sink to the floor together. "My Penelope."

They cry on the floor like animals, a loud terrible din in front of everyone there, uncaring of who watches. Penelope tries to crawl into his lap, and he tries to crawl into hers- she has the wild thought that they need to both slit themselves into puzzle pieces so that they can fit together more tightly, to be satisfied.

Finally, they run out of tears, shaking on the floor ungracefully, still holding onto each other. She tries to press every inch of her body against his, even as the fear of having not seen his face while she embraced him makes her rear back to look, wiping off the blood to see him underneath. "You're home. You came back."

"I did," He says softly, eyes as adoring as she remembers them to be. She curls her fingers into his hair, relearns the shape of his face, traces her fingers over his nose and eyebrows. "Fought a lot of people to do it, but I did. I'm home."

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you," She chokes out and shifts so she can hold him as he starts crying again at her words.

"Penelope," He whispers, threadbare- her poor husband, who fought so hard to come back home, with the glaring absence of all the men he loved who went with him, who has something shattered deep within his eyes because of whatever the Fates put him through. "Penelope."

"I have you. You have me." Penelope chants, looking around until she catches sight of Telemachus and Athena, both smiling. Telemachus sniffles and wipes at her face, and it is with a start that Penelope realizes that the goddess is also crying when she reaches up to elegantly wipe at her face. Holds out a hand with a grin that feels more real on her face than any she's worn these sixteen years past. "What, you two require official invitations?"

All of them nearly fall over with the force at which the other two rush into them, and they all laugh. Penelope holds her family close, all four of them together once more, and looks beyond to smirk victoriously at all her handmaidens and advisors and all the idiots who'd told her to move on. Some lay their eyes down as she looks, some of them incline their heads in acceptance and respect, and a few of them shake their heads with a smile. Penelope will not be losing their trust anytime soon.

She takes a shaky breath and holds them all close. Her family. Her loves.

She's never letting any of them go again.

[locomoqo]

taste me too!

— eli jang x reader

details: NSFW CONTENT, fem bodied reader, cunnilingus, face sitting, takes place after Allied takes on workers

A/N: he should just wife u up, yenna needs a new momma #tbh , also this one's short hihi (^u^)

Time and privacy.

Two luxuries Eli had been deprived of ever since the fallout between the four major crews. He barely had time for himself, his family, or you. And when Hostel was attacked, he had no choice but to work overtime to keep his family safe. Time and privacy slipped away completely, stolen by the chaos.

But now? Now, he was making up for it.

“E-Eli—” you gasp, trying to lift your hips off his face, but his strong hands grip your thighs, pulling you back down with firm, deliberate force. The lewd sound of him slurping up your arousal makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but the heat flooding your body drowns out any hesitation. You’d been hesitant at first, worrying you might hurt him—what if he suffocated? But Eli only thought it was cute.

After a little coaxing, here you are. Straddling his face, his grip unyielding as he devours you with intense focus. How many times have you cum? Twice? Thrice? You’ve lost count. It doesn’t matter when he’s making you see stars over and over again.

“Oh–ohhh!–’s s'good!” you whimper, your voice shaking as your arms tremble, fingers gripping the headboard for support. Eli groans into your soaked core, the vibration sending fresh waves of pleasure through you. His face is slick with your juices, all dripping down the sides of his jaw.

“Missed this sweet lil’ cunt,” he murmurs so sweetly, his words sending a shiver through you.

His tongue moves with precision, switching between long, slow licks and plunging deep inside you, savoring every inch of the pliant walls of your core. One of his hands shifts from your thigh to your waist, guiding your movements, urging you to grind against his mouth.

Your body responds, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles as Eli’s tongue works relentlessly. The sensation is overwhelming—his lips and tongue moving perfectly with the rhythm of your hips.

“Just like that,” Eli coos against you, his voice thick with desire. His grip on your waist tightens, fingers pressing into your skin as he urges you to ride his face harder, faster. Your legs are shaking, barely holding you up, but the way he devours you, the way he guides you with such possession, keeps you moving.

The friction of your cunt against his lips and tongue sends shockwaves through your body, every pass drawing out a breathy moan. Your vision blurs as the sensation of him beneath you becomes too much, overwhelming you.

“Eli—I ca–mmhh-can’t—” you plead, but your voice breaks into a desperate whimper, the pleasure making it impossible to think straight. All you can do is grind harder, chasing the release that’s building, so intense it feels like you might break.

He grunts in response, his tongue flicking against your swollen clit with renewed hunger. His other hand moves from your thigh to cup your ass, squeezing firmly as he pulls you down harder against his mouth. “You can,” he pants, voice muffled against your slick heat. “I want you to.”

His words send you spiraling. Your body tenses, pleasure exploding through you as your hips stutter against him, thighs trembling violently as you cry out. Eli groans with satisfaction, his tongue never stopping, savoring every pulse of your release as your body shudders above him.

When you glance down at him, your expression is dazed, still panting. Eli finally pulls back, giving your pussy a short break, though his eyes are dark with hunger.

“I promise I’ll fuck you after this, love, just…just let me have a bit more, okay?” His voice is soft and placating, but the way his hands squeeze you tells you that you don’t really have a choice—but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

He still wants to make up for lost time, after all.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Plot Structures

A Quick Reference to 5 Plot Structures

8-STAGE PLOT STRUCTURE (Nigel Watts)

Stasis: once upon a time

Trigger: something out of the ordinary happens

Quest: causing the protagonist to seek something

Surprise: but things don’t go as expected

Critical Choice: forcing the protagonist to make a difficult decision

Climax: which has consequences

Reversal: the result of which is a change in status

Resolution: and they all lived happily ever after (or didn’t).

HOW TO TELL A STORY (Peter Rubie)

Once upon a time, something happened to someone,

and he decided that he would pursue a goal.

So he devised a plan of action,

and even though there were forces trying to stop him,

he moved forward because there was a lot at stake.

And just as things seemed as bad as they could get,

he learned an important lesson,

and when offered the prize he had sought so strenuously,

he had to decide whether or not to take it,

and in making that decision he satisfied a need

that had been created by something in his past.

MONOMYTH / THE HERO'S JOURNEY (Joseph Campbell)

Separation

The Call to Adventure

The Refusal of the Call

Supernatural Aid

The Crossing of the First Threshold

Belly of the Whale

Initiation

The Road of Trials

Meeting with the Goddess

Woman as Temptress

Atonement with the Father

Apotheosis

The Ultimate Boon

Return

Refusal of the Return

The Magic Flight

Rescue From Without

The Crossing of the Return Threshold

Master of Two Worlds

Freedom to Live

22-STEP STRUCTURE (John Truby)

Self-revelation, need and desire - combination of steps 20, 3 & 5

Ghost and story world - the hero’s counterdesire

Weakness and need* - the hero’s flaws are keeping them from having the life they desire

Inciting event - outside event that spurs the hero to action

Desire* - the hero’s story goal

Ally or allies - the hero gains an ally

Opponent and/or mystery* - an opponent or mystery that keeps the hero from reaching their goal

Fake-ally opponent - a shapeshifter or false friend

First revelation and decision: changed desire and motive - a revelation causes the hero to make a decision that results in a change in direction

Plan* - the hero’s plan to overcome their opponent and reach their goal

Opponent’s plan main counterattack - the opponent’s plan to overcome their opponent and reach their goal

Drive - increasingly desperate (and possibly immoral) series of actions the hero takes to defeat the opponent and reach the goal

Attack by ally - an ally confronts the hero about their increasing desperation and immorality

Apparent defeat - lowest point when the hero believes they’ve lost; for fall arcs, this may be an “Apparent victory” instead

Second revelation & decision: obsessive drive, changed desire and motive - the hero receives a new piece of information that allows them to continue towards their goal

Audience revelation - the audience learns a vital piece of information that’s kept from the hero

Third revelation and decision - the hero learns something about the opponent that will help them win

Gate, gauntlet, visit to death - pressure on the hero grows and they’re forced to face difficult trials

Battle* - a final (violent) conflict that determines who wins

Self-revelation* - the hero learns who they truly are

Moral decision - a decision that proves what the hero has learnt in the self-revelation

New equilibrium* - the need and desire have been fulfilled and the world goes back to normal, though the hero has changed

Stars (*) mark the minimum 7 steps that, according to Truby, are essential to every story.

ONE PAGE NOVEL (Eva Deverell)

Brainstorm 3...

...names:

...wants/goals/needs:

...locations:

...objects:

...obstacles:

...things lost/sacrificed:

...occupations:

...things on your mind:

Plotting Order

Resolution

Stasis

Shift

Trigger

Quest

Power

Bolt

Defeat

Story Order

Stasis: character isn’t living to their full potential - opposite state to Resolution.

Trigger: an internal or external impulse (or both) forces the character to take the first step towards their Resolution state.

Quest: character enters the new world of adventure, meets mentors or allies and makes a (bad) plan to solve the problem the Trigger created.

Bolt: (bad) Quest plan inevitably goes wrong.

Shift: character makes the paradigm shift necessary for them to inhabit their Resolution state.

Defeat: character makes the ultimate sacrifice.

Power: character finds a hidden power within themselves that allows them to seize the prize.

Resolution: character is living up to their full potential in their Resolution state.

NOTES

Choose a plot structure that works best for you.

Deviate from it as needed. It is a guide after all.

Some writers and editors advice you stick with a plot structure you have chosen:

Don’t look for an alternative as soon as you start to become frustrated with your first choice. You’ll only end up wasting time.

As with everything else, there is no single perfect choice.

And it may be the case that different projects need different methods.

Keep experimenting. Keep writing. Keep improving.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References