#and for that matter this all applies to a world with a god too

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

I would love to see jack abbott with a sunshine reader i adore the grumpy sunshine dynamic.

Like Dana, she gets hit. She debates on telling him, but maybe robby lets it slip to Jack, and he ofc freaks out (i mean, the guy carries an ultrasound machine in a go bag)

His Rock

main masterlist | the pitt masterlist

pairing: dr. jack abbott x female nurse!reader

rating: PG-13

word count: 1.4k

warnings: violence (reader gets punched)

author’s note: thank you so much for the request! sorry for the part that’s so similar to the show. hope this was worth the wait!

The first date you had with Dr. Jack Abbott was at a nice restaurant. You two hit it off instantly, and no one in the world could make him laugh the way you did. Something about your energy really complemented his. You would be chipper and fun and full of life, while he’d be groaning about the amount of patients he had on his plate. You were never too chipper for him, though. You were just chipper enough. You knew when to be serious and when he needed a good laugh to brighten his day.

You remembered the first time he lost a patient while you two were together. You sat with him on the roof after his shift as he contemplated life. You held his hand and kissed it gently as you both sat in silence for what felt like hours.

“Thank you,” was all he said before he stood up, helped you stand up, and you both drove your separate ways home.

There were also times when you weren’t chipper. Then it was up to him to cheer you up, though he wasn’t as talented at it as you were. But he was there for you, and that’s all that mattered. Through ups and downs, he was always there, and before you knew it two years flew by.

**

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket when you realized something. Jack was late for his shift. He was supposed to be there ten minutes ago. You pulled out your phone and saw a text from Langdon, something about getting a drink with a few of the doctors after work. You replied with an excited “yes” before you texted your boyfriend.

You asked him why he was late, and he simply replied with “traffic”. Your heart stopped racing when you read the text. He was fine.

When he finally did enter The Pitt, you were there to greet him with a big smile and a tight hug.

“Good morning,” you all but squealed.

“It’s seven in the afternoon,” he grumbled. 

“But you just woke up, so for you it’s morning,” you reasoned. “I love you.” You got on your tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips.

“I love you, too,” he replied

**

“Why not?” a patient asked you the next day. He had been trying to get you to go on a date with him for the past two hours and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“Because, like I’ve said many times now, I have a boyfriend,” you repeated slowly.

He completely ignored your reason and continued to ask you out again. You simply rolled your eyes at him with a scoff.

**

You were outside taking a much-needed (very quick) breather when someone came up behind you.

“Hey, nurse,” the man snarled before punching you square in the face with his right hand. You fell to the floor in pain, blood gushing from your nose.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed.

After lying there for a moment, you picked yourself up carefully off the pavement and headed inside.

When Robby saw you, he came rushing over.

“Oh my god,” he exclaimed, seeing the blood on your face. “Grab some ice,” he told Mateo, who hurried to do so. Robby ran up to you and held your face in his gloved hands so he could get a good look at your face. “What happened?”

“Just got punched, I’m fine,” you said. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Come sit down.” He guided you to a chair nearby and got down to your level so he could examine the injury. “Can you go get Ahmad, please, Dana?” he asked her before she nodded and left.

“I’m fine, Robby, really,” you persisted.

“Did you hit your head?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you answered honestly. “But I didn’t black out or anything, just a bloody nose.”

“I’m gonna apply pressure,” Perlah said before pressing a cloth to your nose.

“Okay, okay,” you winced. “I’ve got it.” You replaced her hand with your own.

“Any trouble seeing? Any double vision?” Robby asked you. “What about a headache?” 

“No trouble seeing, I‘ve got a bit of a headache, yeah,” you said.

“I’m gonna grab you new scrubs,” Nurse Kim said, and she left to do so.

“You’re gonna need a room,” Robby said.

“C’mon, Robby, I don’t need a room, I’m fine!”

A nurse ran to go and prep a room.

“Follow my finger,” Robby instructed, holding his pointer finger in front of your face. “Right, left, up, down. EOM is intact.”

“Who did this?” Ahmad asked you. 

“Just a pissed off patient but he split so just forget it,” you said, sounding on the verge of tears.

“Hell no! I want a name,” he persisted.

“Harrison Elliot,” you admitted.

“The asshole that was hitting on you?” Mateo asked, and you nodded.

“I’m calling the cops,” Ahmad said as he left.

Robby pulled out his flashlight and waved it in front of your eyes. “Pupils are equal and reactive,” he said. He shone the light up your nostrils before saying, “No septal hematoma. Tell me when it’s sore.” He began applying light pressure to your face, starting at the cheekbones and heading for your nose.

As he got closer to your nose, you gasped in pain and asked him to stop. 

“Tender at the nasion. CT head and maxillofacial,” Robby said.

“I’ll give them a heads up,” Mohan said before she left as well.

Dana began wiping the blood off your face and neck as you asked Robby, “Is that really necessary?”

“You have at least one facial fracture,” Robby said. “With the headache and the fall, I want to rule out anything intracranial.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him, but he just shook his head with a small smile. 

“Want me to call Jack?” Robby asked.

“Hell no, I don’t want to worry him.”

“I think he has every right to worry about you if he wants.”

“Don’t call him, Robby,” you said, and he nodded.

**

“Jack’s gonna be worried,” Robby commented when he visited your room.

“I’ll just tell him I bumped into a door, he’ll believe that, right?”

“Sure,” Robby scoffed. “CT results came back, you’re free to get back to work… or go home.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” you said.

“You still haven’t called him?”

“He’s probably asleep, I don’t wanna wake him up.”

“If it were me, I’d wanna get woken up,” he told you, knowing Abbott and therefore knowing he would want to know you were hurt. “You aren’t burdening him, just give him a call.”

“That poor man needs his sleep, believe me,” you laughed a little.

“For once in your life, don’t be chipper about a situation and call your boyfriend.

“Fine,” you sighed. 

You didn’t end up calling him, but Robby figured as much.

**

The whole day changed when there was a rush of emergency patients due to a fire nearby. Night staff was called in early, which meant you would have to face Jack sooner than you thought.

“Abbott! So happy to see you,” Robby exclaimed when he saw him.

“How many burn victims so far?” he asked.

“Not sure yet. And I thought today’s big event was gonna be that meathead punching Y/n.” When Robby realized what he said, he watched as Abbott’s eyes practically bulged out of his skull. 

“What?” Jack exclaimed loudly. “Where is she?”

“I’m right here,” you sighed from behind him. “And I hoped Robby wouldn’t tell you.”

“Oh my god,” he muttered when he saw your bruised face. “Baby, what…” he trailed off as he traced his thumb down your cheek and cupped your face in his hands. Carefully, he kissed you deeply before he muttered, “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine, I promise,” you told him as he looked at you with such worry that it made your heart hurt.

“You don’t look fine,” he whispered.

“Excuse you, I always look fine,” you chuckled, teasing him. That did it, that made him crack the smallest of smiles.

“See, now there you go making me all happy when you know damn well I should be mad about this.”

“Aw, you love me.”

“I do love you,” Abbott said before he leaned down and kissed you again. “And it’s because I love you, I’m gonna make sure you get the proper care you need. CT scan?”

“Already got one, I really am fine,” you said.

“Okay.” He smiled and kissed you a third time, causing you to smile wider.

[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.

The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.

Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.

Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.

Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.

Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.

When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.

They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.

Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.

The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.

Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.

He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.

He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.

He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back

He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.

Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.

Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.

Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking for when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?

Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?

[salemlunaa]

THE ACT OF SHIFTING CONSCIOUSNESS IS OWED TO YOU ❃

No matter what your aims are, shifting is for you and will always be easy.....

There are many things people can do with the void state/the state pure consciousness, and no matter what you are doing you need to know that shifting is owed to you. And in my asks and dms it’s made clear that a lot of you don’t know the different forms that shifting can come in

So before i get into it, Let’s get acquainted with the different ways you can utilise the void in terms of shifting!!…

Standard shifting

A person who will shift with the intention of coming back to where they are now aka their base or current reality. Being this person, you may have multiple drs you want to go to and will have “safe words” which can bring you back to your cr when you want

example: having a winx dr, having a kpop dr and a nepo baby dr at the same time, frequenting between each one, or which ever one is their “main” dr

Permashifting

A person who has one reality that they want to shift to, forever, perma-shifting= permanent shift, you can still have ties to your old reality and have memories from it but ultimately you can’t go back unless you tried to by shifting again, which wouldn’t be that much of a hassle because you still have some recollection of your old reality

example: Leaving your old reality while still having some recollection of the life you live before. You live this life recognising that you have shifted to get here and you are still somewhat tied to your old reality

Respawning

Being this person, you will have one reality that you live in forever. It’s kinda in the name, you reset, as soon as you shift consciousness to you desired life, it was always your life, you will cut ties with whoever you were before and live this way forever. A lot of people script a time stamp in which they forget everything, you will have pre prepared memories from birth up until the day the present day. You are expecting to live the rest of your life in this reality.

a smart example from a dm from one of my consenting mutuals: “I’ll shift there and it will be 02:00 I’ll be all excited about the fact that I shifted, have time to give my success story and bawl my eyes out from sheer happiness, and around 4 hours in (about 06:00 ) I will forget everything and fully cut ties with who I used to be and the life I used to live”

I want you to resonate with one and apply your knowledge where you need to because shifting consciousness is owed to you. Whether you’re doing it for a small while, going to multiple realities or one big shift of your consciousness cutting ties with where you were before. It doesn’t matter, it is owed to you and it is easier than breathing.

If you have a conscious mind, which yes you do or you wouldn’t be reading this, then you have a subconscious mind, and that means that shifting consciousness is a basic ability for you.

There is no such thing as something too big, one form of shifting isn’t “easier” or “harder” than another so whatever you wanna do, don’t be scared, you’ve got this!! There is a reason you’re here. Your subconscious mind knew you didn’t deserve all that you went through and all that you are going through and it led you here. Because of the horrible way humans have been conditioned, we live in a world where people mock shifting which is ironic , as it is a basic ability just like walking and talking, except it uses the mind and not the physical body. I want you to think of your desired reality/realities, whether you are thinking of 12 or 4 or 1, you need to understand that your desired life already exists, you already have it. It’s not a dream, you’re god, you give life to all that you touch with your mind.

I don’t think you really understand so I will say this again:

what you see: script + void/“I AM” state ➯ my dream life is finally real, me and my physical body are finally in my dream reality

you see yourself and some small part of some bigger process, when in fact, you are everything and everything is instant

what actually happens: i’ve created my dream life in my head ➯ as god i give life to everything my i touch with my mind, there for it is real

it’s an immediate chain of events, not a process. stop relying on the I AM state to give you something you already have, the void state helps you shift consciousness to a reality that is already there, and nothing more than that , it doesn’t create, you have already created. you have the power, the void is just a state of pure consciousness that helps you shift your awareness to which ever reality you wish to go to.

side note: As a respawner, all are welcome here, especially my fellow respawners and my permashifters (it’s nice to see both communities grow as i never used to see posts for permashifting or respawning)

no matter what you intend to do with the information you have learned on this app, your desired reality is yours, it was owed to you the second you thought of it

so stop doing nothing about the information you have, you don’t have to struggle in life, throw the teachings of society out the door and realise you can have all that you want, whether that be 1 dream life or 20!! LOCK IN MY LOVES

GET EXCITED ABOUT YOUR NEW LIFE/LIVES, ITS OWED TO YOU!! 🎆💋

[celebrity-tarot]

PAC - What will your next partner like most about you?

calm your mind, breathe deeply & focus on what photo(s) you feel most drawn to. don’t rush, then, when you’re ready, and only if you truly feel drawn to a photo, read the corresponding pile. feedback is greatly appreciated

this reading is can also apply to current partners!

pile 1:

your current or next partner likes that you are someone with the rare ability to notice beauty where others don’t; whether you’re an artist or just a creative person in general. you may have a way of helping people shift their perspective, & they’ll admire this about you. you’re unconventional & unpredictable at times, with unique interests that keep things exciting. you introduce them to new experiences, take them to places they wouldn’t have considered, & constantly “put them on” to things they end up loving. in that way, you’re unlike anyone they’ve been with before.

they’ll be drawn to your sense of style such as your clothes, your makeup, your accessories. they might even describe you as “high maintenance,” but it’s something they find incredibly attractive about you. they love your purity, your child-like spirit & your openness to the world. there’s something fresh about your energy that lights you up to them.

they also love how you know how to see the beauty in yourself. this confidence radiates outward, making you naturally good at empowering others. your compassion doesn’t just make people feel seen it makes them feel capable of doing things. you uplift those around you not by trying, but simply by being who you are. your partner benefits from this trait greatly.

they’re also touched by how protective you are of them, of your loved ones, & of what matters most to you. overall, your partner sees you as a breath of fresh air in a chaotic world. you’ll become someone they look to often, not just for comfort, but as an escape.

–

pile 2:

your current or next partner will like your healing, selfless nature. they see you as someone who understands that life is bigger than the individual & they admire your courage to sacrifice for something greater when it truly matters. this doesn’t just apply to big picture ideals; it shows up in the small things too. even in something like a friendship conflict, you might be the one who gives up more than your share just to keep less generous or less socially aware people comfortable. there’s also something deeply spiritual about you, whether you’re religious & act in god’s name or are simply guided by a strong inner light. they find this connection to the divine beautiful & it makes you feel incredibly pure in their eyes.

they love how deeply you cherish your loved ones & admire how much you value family/community. you’re the kind of person who stays through the highs, the lows, & all the complications. you don’t give up easily, & that loyalty means everything to them. they like that you are generous in every part of the relationship; emotionally, spiritually, (& especially in the bedroom) they’re deeply appreciative of how giving you are & how intuitively you care.

to them, you’re someone who’s genuinely improved their life in every way. & they see you as a partner who brings warmth, depth, & devotion into everything you touch.

–

pile 3:

your current or next partner will like your dedication to learning & growing your mind. whether it’s through taking your formal education high or simply from how you spend your free time, they admire how committed you are to sharpening your brain. you come across as someone who’s openminded & willing to receive new information without resistance. you don’t feel the need to always be the teacher in the room & you know how to sit back and be a student. you listen, absorb, apply, & execute.

you’re ambitious & in a grounded way. you don’t just dream it or talk about it, you plan it, build it, & follow through. your ideas have weight & you know how to bring them to life even if you don’t know where to start, your base somehow always turns out solid. in their eyes, it feels like everything you touch turns to gold at times. they see you as someone who can move mountains if you’re locked in enough. you’re the type of person who not only meets expectations but often exceeds them, all while never forgetting the people around you.

your integrity also stands out. you’re not a sellout or a soul-seller, you won’t trade your morals. even if something looks like a great opportunity, if it compromises who you are, you’ll walk away with your dignity intact. this is something they will take note of and respect a lot.

in general your partner sees you as someone with an entrepreneurial energy and as someone who gets things done no matter what. the energy of the cards is very clear: you know how to make things happen. they’re in awe of your drive, & your follow through & your refusal to settle. to them, you’re their personal superstar & with this person you’ll have someone in your corner at all times, cheering you on and truly believing in you.

–

pile 4:

your current or next partner is drawn to your intense allure & they likely noticed how seductive & attractive you are before anything else. their physical attraction to you didn’t need any time to grow, they likely knew immediately they were into you. they see a natural beauty in you, one that doesn’t rely on or need any heavy makeup or fancy clothes. to them, you’re stunning in your most effortless state and they love this about you. maybe you’re even someone who doesn’t wear a lot of makeup.

they also really admire your practicality & problem solving skills. you’re not afraid to take the lead, get things done, & figure things out when others may hesitate or start to panic & this is reassuring to them.

they also like that they can trust you deeply. loyalty matters to you & it shows which is why they may even often confide in you, sharing stories & gossip about their family, friends, & social circles. they know you’ll never betray their trust & that you always try to understand things and where they’re coming from before judging, even if their criticisms towards others can sound harsh.

along with this they admire your pride & resilience. you’ve had to fought for what you want & have overcome so much a lot In life. you’re a warrior in their eyes.

[mrs-kmikaelson]

helios

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x sunshine!reader Summary: Aaron thinks you're just about the most radiant person he's ever met. But then you fly too close to the sun, and all your light disappears. Warnings: grumpy x sunshine turned not sunshine, references to the greek myth of icarus and the sun god helios, graphic descriptions of violence, murder, mentions of abduction, heartbreak, complicated relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unresolved trauma, aaron is a bit of a jerk (with reason) Words: 3.1K

Masterlist | icarus (part 1) | apollo (part 3)

a/n: part 3 otw (don't kill me; we can talk about the next part of the grey area later)

When you first met Hotch, you knew he was wondering why you'd apply for the BAU. Most people wondered why you'd work for the Bureau in the first place. To make the world brighter, you'd thought.

But now your world was so dark that it made you wonder what the point of any of it was.

Did it matter if you helped some people? Did you really help anyone? You used to think so.

Now you were on the other side of the equation, and it didn't seem that way anymore. You weren't the agent, just the victim. And now you wondered—could you ever truly help anyone? Or were they all just dead the moment they were taken?

You never stayed long enough to see the aftermath, what happened to the victims after the unsub was apprehended. You now wished you did. Did this feeling ever go away?

It didn't feel like that right now.

Nonetheless, you still found yourself sitting at the BAU round table, coffee in hand in attempts to remedy your lack of sleep. It didn't help much, but it made you feel like you were doing something. Lately, everything in your life felt that way.

You sat across from Spencer, between Emily and Derek. They were talking about this movie they saw; Reid was arguing about innaccuracy and statistical probability. They invited you to go, too.

No thanks, guys. I'm busy this weekend. You didn't elaborate further.

You remembered the look of disappointment that washed over Spencer's face, but he covered it with a smile. You reciprocated it the best you could.

Smiling felt harder.

"Hey, Y/L/N, you listening?"

You blinked, turning to see Morgan looking at you expectantly. "Sorry. What?"

"I said, drinks. After this case. It's all on the old man's tab." Rossi made a sound of protest in the background, but Morgan barely glanced his way, keeping his eyes on you. "You in?"

Your mouth opened, but you didn't know what to say. You were running out of excuses. This felt like a test—

"Let's start the briefing."

At Hotch's entrance to the room, you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders despite the air somehow getting heavier. You trained your eyes on the screen, relieved that you wouldn't have to answer.

JJ started, "Baltimore's seen a series of child abductions over the past few months. Jimmy Porter was abducted from the mall a week ago." She clicked to the next slide. "His body was found dumped by the harbor 2 days ago."

Diving into profiler mode, you tilted your head at the picture. "Dumped is a nice way of putting it," you commented. "The positioning shows an ample amount of remorse."

"And he dumped the body where it could easily be found," Hotch built off your point. He usually did that. It almost felt like things were normal between you.

Please, Y/N.

You cleared your throat. "Have the other bodies ever been found?"

JJ sighed, automatically indicating you wouldn't like her answer. "Baltimore PD is sweeping the water as we speak." She clicked to the next slide. "Last night, Max Campbell was taken from his home while his parents were asleep."

Derek sat up straighter. "That's a hell of a risk to take."

"To go from abducting from common hunting grounds like a mall to one's own home is extremely unlikely. It shows an immense jump in confidence and victimology, going from victims of opportunity to a specific victim in a specific location," Reid said, making gestures with his hands. 

You tipped your head in his direction. "There must be something specific about Max Campbell that made the unsub take him without even cooling off."

Hotch nodded, agreeing. "We'll discuss this further on the jet. Wheels up in 30." 

You all stood up, grabbing your things. You were about to leave the room when Hotch called your name. 

"Y/N." You turned back, seeing his soft expression that was simultaneously devoid of emotion. "Could I speak to you for a moment, please?"

No. Whatever he wanted to talk about could wait. He already got his fill the night before. You had nothing more to talk about.

But you couldn't say that. You'd already said too much. So, you reluctantly nodded, waiting for everyone to file out of the room and ignoring the glances they shared.

Rossi closed the door on his way out, like he could anticipate that you wouldn't want anyone to hear this conversation. You didn't know if you wanted to thank him for it or be angry at the assumption.

Most of your feelings were torn between extremes.

Sadness and anger.

Relief and intensity.

And as you stared at Aaron, standing there with stiff arms, hate and love.

He started slowly as if he was pacifying an unpredictable animal. "Y/N... I would like you to stay with Garcia for this case."

You involuntarily recoiled, shocked at the notion. If he was ashamed, he didn't show it. You scoffed. "What?" He opened his mouth, but you didn't let him get a word in, taking a step forward. "Hotch, that's ridiculous. Child offenders are my specialty. Are you seriously taking me off this case?"

"I'm not taking you off the case," he reasoned. "You'll be more help here—"

"How?" A look of offense crossed his face, but you couldn't care less. Maybe you would've been more scared to go against Hotch before, but this was now. He'd never suggested something so ludicrous.

Emily called you yin and yang, two sides of the same coin. He trusted you on all fronts. This didn't feel like trust.

It felt like punishment.

Hotch's eyes hardened, giving you a look you'd never seen directed at you before. "Agent Y/L/N, as your unit chief, I am ordering you to stay here. Your input is valued; you will still contribute. But effective immediately, you will not be joining us in the field until a psychological evaluation deems you fit."

Another scoff left you. "Psychological evaluation? That's what this is about? All because I wouldn't fucking talk to you—"

"Watch your tone—"

"You have my doctor's note. I am physically and mentally capable for this job. You are not a licensed psychologist—"

His voice raised as he cut you off. "I reserve the right to make decisions about the agents on my team." He gave you one final once-over, like he was daring you to say another word, give him a reason to do something more drastic. You clenched your jaw, holding back all the words you wanted to let flow. That seemed to satisfy him enough. "You will stay here. End of discussion."

Hotch grabbed his briefcase and promptly left the room, not sparing you another glance as you just stood there, left once again by Aaron Hotchner.

Yin and yang, Emily had said. It almost made you laugh. The coin was flipped.

He was leaving you in the shadows.

— 

Derek passed by your desk as you were grabbing your things, getting ready to go to Penelope's bat cave. He raised a brow at you. "Hey, where's your go bag?"

Without meaning to, you sighed, immediately regretting it when you saw the smile on his face falter. "Sorry, I'm—" not mad at you, "I'm not coming. Bossman's orders." You threw in a smile, trying to smooth things over, but it came out more sarcastic than anything.

He stared at you in silence for a few seconds with that same look that everyone had been giving you since you came back. The same way you'd look at a pressure-activated bomb. Careful not to move too fast, press too hard, press in the wrong areas.

Derek seemed to decide that whatever he was thinking was worth saying. "Kid, you know he just wants what's best for you." Kid.

Were you not grown up now?

You pursed your lips before responding, "Yeah." It was sure as hell hard to see it that way when you were being benched, punished for something that wasn't your fault.

You couldn't help but think that Hotch would never do this to Derek. Or anyone, for that matter. It was just you.

Morgan sighed, but he left it at that, sensing the cut was too fresh. His eyes travelled lower. Silence again.

You knew what he was looking at. You resisted the urge to cover your stomach.

"Does—" he hesitated. Derek Morgan never hesitated. "Does it still hurt?"

You sharply inhaled. The scars had two months to heal. Sometimes, you could still feel the knife ripping into your body. Once. Twice. Three times.

You could feel it most times, actually.

The medications could get rid of the pain, but they couldn't get rid of the sensation of that knife in your body. Sometimes, you thought nothing ever would.

"I'm told it doesn't hurt anymore than it should," you said. Whatever that meant. Apparently, you were in pain paradise. This is the spot you want to be at, you doctor told you.

You didn't call bullshit when he said that, but Morgan looked like he might do it for you in real time.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but he was cut off by Emily. 

"Are you guys coming?" Right after she spoke, her eyes darted between you both, asking you a different question with her eyes. Am I interrupting something?

You shook your head, giving her a smile that looked more practiced. No, you're not. "No, I'm not coming. I'll see you guys when you get back." You dodged any more questions by quickly turning around. Morgan could explain it to her if she asked. You didn't feel like answering any more questions, being treated like a ticking time bomb.

You just wanted things to go back to normal. Once they started treating you like they did before, then you could be the same as you were before.

You're not the same, Y/N.

Nothing was.

—

Penelope couldn't get through to you. You were quiet all day except to share your theories. The next day was the same. And the next. And the next. Until the bastard was caught.

Max Campbell was rescued. You weren't there to see it, but you wondered if it really made a difference. He was just a boy, so full of light.

Would that light ever come back to him?

You exhaled, running your hand over your face. Even though you stayed home, you were exhausted. You didn't sleep more than an hour at a time, but that wasn't much different from your new routine.

You were starting to see more of the moon than the sun.

When the team returned, you greeted them all with smiles. There, just like before. The only difference was that you didn't talk to Hotch.

He glanced at you, wordlessly telling you to talk to him, but you weren't gonna do that.

Rossi noticed the lack of communication between you. Everyone did, but he was the only one who'd say something about it.

Stirring his coffee in the break room, he started, "Aaron is... stubborn. But he's extra hardheaded for the people that he loves." Loves.

Your hand stilled halfway to grabbing the coffee pot, but you recovered quickly, grabbing it and pouring yourself a cup. You glanced side to side, checking to see if anyone was around to hear him and whatever he was implying. 

When you found no one else, you replied, "Okay." You weren't going to dignify that claim with any other response.

You knew Aaron cared about you; you'd be a shitty profiler not to know that. But love was a strong word.

Love didn't leave you all alone when you begged it to stay. Love didn't stay away from you while you were lying in a hospital bed. Love didn't interrogate you and make you sit on the sidelines when you didn't answer its questions. Love didn't make you feel so cold when all you wanted was to feel warm.

Rossi stopped pretending to pay attention to his coffee. You didn't meet his eyes. "Bellissima, you're going to have to talk to him eventually."

"Can you pass the creamer, please?"

"No." Finally, you looked up, meeting Rossi's passionate gaze. "It gets worse before it gets better. You have to let that happen."

You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palms. You didn't see how it could possibly get worse than this.

"You know, I don't really think I want this coffee anymore." You left the mug on the counter, exiting the break room and leaving the conversation altogether.

— 

"Hotch, please. The case is right here—"

"No."

"Come on, I'll be right by your side the whole time," you argued. A new case came in, just over in Montclair, and you were trying to negotiate your way into it. Two cases had passed where he made you stay in Quantico. It was becoming nonsensical.

You thought he'd crack by now, but he remained firm in his resolve, refusing to let you in the field until you talked about what happened. And "talking about it" was something you didn't want to do, much less with him.

His gaze had more heat than the sun outside. You could tell he was contemplating it. Even he must've been able to see how absurd this was, holding you back from your work when he wouldn't do the same to anyone else.

When it was him on the other side of this, he came back to work. He went into the field 30 days after being stabbed nine times. You only endured a third of that.

You thought back to that day. You'd rushed to the hospital and didn't leave his side. You visited him every day, keeping him company and updating him on your cases. You never iced him out the way he was isolating you right now. You never avoided him when you knew he was hurting.

If you talked to him—if you had that conversation—then that's what you'd say. You'd end up saying something foolish about the things you felt, feelings he wouldn't reciprocate. You'd reopen wounds you were desperately trying to close.

So you wouldn't.

You didn't say a word of what you were really thinking, sticking to the script. Please let me go. I'll be fine. I'll stay by you.

Eventually, he made up his mind. "Fine."

You could've nearly smiled.

— 

The case finished speedily. You captured the unsub and found the girl just in time. Happily ever after.

Hotch didn't seem to think so.

As soon as the elevator doors opened to the sixth floor, he was storming past you all, his footsteps thunderous against the floor. Garcia's smile fell from her face when she saw.

Without turning back, he called, "Y/L/N. My office, now."

You rolled your eyes, following him and ignoring the looks your colleagues exchanged. They did that a lot, lately. But everyone stayed silent, electing not to make commentary. It was smart, not wanting to add fuel to the fire.

But you... you were the most fire you'd been in months. For the first time since what happened, you didn't feel cold. White hot anger coursed through your veins, lighting a fuse that no one could get rid of.

You slammed Hotch's door on your way in. He immediately turned to you, seething, "That was reckless and stupid—"

"It got the job done—"

He raised his voice. "You walked into the house alone, without backup—"

"I talked him down—"

"You could've died!"

"It wouldn't be the first time!" you snapped. Your chest heaved as if you'd just run a marathon, phantom pains in your abdomen supporting your words. 

He glanced downward before meeting your eyes again. For a second, it was almost like you were looking at Aaron. It was almost like he was understanding. 

You got quieter, but your voice was no less firm. "It certainly won't be the last."

And just like that, Aaron disappeared. No longer your friend. Back to the prosecutor, the unit chief who took your words as a challenge. His eyes narrowed. "Yes, it will be." It took you a moment to understand what he meant, but he soon made it very clear. "Your gun and your badge, now. You're suspended for the next two weeks."

You took a step backward as if his words were a slap in the face. "What?"

Hotch didn't lighten up, his face completely impassive. "You are a danger to yourself, and I cannot allow you into the field in good conscience." He held his hand out. "Gun. Badge. Now."

You echoed, "You're suspending me?"

"Yes."

An incredulous scoff left you. He was suspending you after everything? When he had done the same and worse?

He was allowed to use his judgement and keep things to himself, but the second you stepped out of line, he wanted to suspend you? You couldn't believe it. You wouldn't believe it.

In a split second, you made a snap decision. If he didn't want you here, then it wouldn't be on his terms.

You unholstered your gun and unpocketed your badge, shoving them in his chest as opposed to handing them to him. You didn't take your eyes off him once, maintaining your glare.

You hoped it burned.

"You're not suspending me," you rebutted, taking a step closer to him. Realization dawned on his face. "I quit."

Hotch's face morphed into something that almost looked like regret. You wouldn't stay long to savour it.

You spun on your heel, marching out of his office with him right behind you. The team, who no doubt heard small bits of your conversation, looked confused. You didn't stop for any of them.

"Y/N, this conversation isn't finished." He must've thought that'd get to you. His unit chief voice, big and loud. But your feet didn't stop moving.

With your back still turned to him, you retorted, "No, but I am."

You reached the elevator, pressing the ground floor and close button within seconds of each other. When the doors closed, Hotch's approaching figure was gone, replaced by your own reflection.

A shaky breath left you. The fluorescent lights in the elevator were blinding. It was brighter in there than it was anywhere else in the building. But when you got out to the parking lot, it was just dark.

Artificial lights. Not the sun.

They didn't last. They had switches; you could turn them off.

Your switch was flipped, too. For a second, you were hot and blazing, burning brighter than you'd ever burned before. But as soon as you left the building, that changed completely.

You were immersed in darkness.

And you were alone.

[snoopyhq]

Can I request smut headcanons where his gn s/o worships Jayce, Viktor, Steb, Vander, Silco, and Ekko's bodies please?

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ the altar is my hips, even if it's a false god

type: misc. arcane characters x gn reader

summary: different body worship with different arcane men

warning: explicit content, mentions of restraints (silk), guided masturbation, mirror play (i think?? idk the name. uh, involves mirrors. viktor's part), implied sex positions, etc. i don't think i can write full blown smut, mainly because i'm not practiced, so i'll try to make it as romantic as i can with extra zealous passion

minors dni, thank you !!!

word count: 1555

a/n: false god is objectively a banger and is one of lover's most underrated tracks.

dividers used made by @/diviniyae

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ JAYCE

he's getting tied to the bedposts

no rope, no handcuffs, no nylon

red silk ribbons adorn his wrists and ankles, contrasting the warm brown of his skin like a trail of your freshly applied lipstick

which is now making its way down the column of his throat

he needs the stability and reassurance

you're restraining his limbs, not to hinder his movement, or as a play on his autonomy, but to hold him down so you could hold him close to you and dote on him like he deserves

he's completely shameless his breathy whimpers and gasps

which is great! it's exactly what you want

you want him to feel safe enough to express himself with you, especially during such an intimate setting

he's the most beautiful canvas in the world, and you're going to turn him into your next masterpiece

he's a marked up mess by the end. lovebites litter his inner thighs and upper body, and god forbid you's skimp out on his neck

each one is a physical reminder of the message you want him to carry with him everyday

i love you, jayce talis. don't you ever forget that

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ VIKTOR

mirror, mirror on the wall. who's the fairest of them all?

it's viktor

this man would be living off work if he could. he doesn't take the time necessary to just spoil himself, so you're taking matters into your own hands

quite literally

after weeks of contradicting schedules, you both have a couple nights completely free

the floor length mirror had its cloth taken off and now stands opposite your shared bed, gleaming faintly in the dim light

you'd taken off his clothes too, slowly, murmuring praises about each newly revealed part of his body

viktor isn't one to blush, but your words always make a softie out of him

you sit behind him, your legs on either side of his as you two look at your reflections. he wants to look away, but your encouragement keeps him from shying away from the revelation of his naked form

your hands find his, and as the jazz music continues its sensual crescendo, you trail them down down down, letting the tips of his fingers ghost over his skin in a featherlight caress

you're kissing his neck and telling him just how great he's doing and how gorgeous he is, and how much he deserves to see himself from your point of view (i love you chappell roan)

his head is thrown back. his soft brown locks are on your shoulders, shifting slightly with his labored breaths as he finally takes the time to love his body the way you always have, with your steady hands over his, guiding his motions and coaxing him to climax

you see now, viktor? can you see just how beautiful you are to me?

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ STEB

i'm sitting here cycling through a myriad of options for him

my first thought was hot springs, but then hmm. gross lowkey. i am a hot springs enjoyer, leave the scenic nature place alone! i berated myself

and then i moved on to a luxury bath

but then i remembered outdoor jacuzzis are a thing, and baths inside in like a house or apartment kind of became boring compared to this

so picture this: outdoor jacuzzi, secluded in the shade of your guys' garden

the giant trees sway in the wind and the sunlight filter through the leaves to create dapples that dance on both your slick skin, your hands on either side of his face as you two move in sync to the slow lapping of the water

he isn't a vocal one, but he has his tells

the way his breath hitches, the half closed eyes, the fluttering his gills when you add extra emphasis on the next roll of your hips

this man's an enforcer (unfortunate)

the stress of work often carries over to other aspects of his life, but he's been trained to remain stoic in the face of adversary

these stolen moments of intimacy are the few times he truly relaxes. be gentle and patient with him, and you'll have him beyond whipped

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ VANDER

the only vanderbilt i know is vander built like the man of mine and sza's dreams

more surface area = more space to love on. btw

being a single dad most of his life is stressful, even more so when you combine it with the leadership needed to keep the lanes in order

the worship you bring him is akin to one for a wine god

you're both getting blacked out wasted

it sounds irresponsible, but hear me out

a space where he doesn't have to be the responsible, upstanding adult in the room, where he can just go buck wild and release his inhibitions? that would fuck so hard, ok

especially having you as his drinking/party buddy

the amount of dirty dancing you'd be getting into with the drinking games available would make a sailor blush

the bedroom is empty, and the commodities of the bar have found their way to this little haven

pour out a cup for this much needed reprieve

maybe upon him too while your clever tongue provides the drunken declarations of love

the only vanderbilt i know is vander built like a fucking snorlax

more surface area = more space to love on. btw

being a single dad most of his life is stressful, even more so when you combine it with the leadership needed to keep the lanes in order

the worship you bring him is akin to one for a wine god

you're both getting blacked out wasted

it sounds irresponsible, but hear me out

a space where he doesn't have to be the responsible, upstanding adult in the room, where he can just go buck wild and release his inhibitions? that would fuck so hard, ok

especially having you as his drinking/party buddy

the amount of dirty dancing you'd be getting into with the drinking games available would make a sailor blush

the bedroom is empty, and the commodities of the bar have found their way to this little haven

pour out a cup for this much needed reprieve

maybe upon him too while your clever tongue provides the drunken declarations of love

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ SILCO

it's a game of tug-of-war

silco is a drug lord and basically rules the underground. he's not relinquishing power without a fight

crafty wit? physical passion? maybe even a game of chess. you choose

the game changes every time, which he finds refreshing and mentally stimulating

it eventually gets to a point where you're finally given the reins

your neck is covered in hickeys and there are scratches down your back by the time it gets there, but they're routine by then

you didn't leave him unharmed either

you may both be panting from the adrenaline and exhilaration, but the true reward comes from the deprivation of senses you love so much

the blindfold goes over, and silco's yours for however long you want to go tonight

you worship him the same way a feral animal would

it's pure instinct and desperation and hurts so good

the consequences can be felt in full later

when you've had enough of your fun, you finally remove the blindfold and let him see the wreck he's made of you, and you of him

make sure to remind him with extra kisses to the left one that he's the apple of your eye, no matter how rotten

aftercare. duh.

he's gotten his hands on the finest creams and bath oils, so you get cleaned and patched up in luxury. rivals a piltovan spa, really

the settle down from such ferocity to something so tame is the perfect balance for your stormy relationship

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ EKKO

worshipping ekko is an event that takes place over the course of the entire day

you've planned it down to the letter

similar to vander, he's in charge of so much and takes care of so many people, so you wanted to be the one pampering him for once

breakfast is brought to him in bed, and the watching the sunrise is a relaxing start to the day

here comes a medley of dates

a walk down his favorite street and hitting the shopping district

you insist he get himself something from at least three different stores

then treating him to lunch before heading off on your hoverboards as you guys race through the sky

back home, you'd put together a skincare basket to do together. the whole routine of exfoliate, moisturize, and then the face masks

you talk about the exciting day you just had, fingers intertwined the whole time until it's time to take the masks-and clothes-off

he doesn't let himself relax often, but around you?

completely gone

you make slow, leisurely love, taking every second as a chance to appreciate him, his body, his voice and that brilliant mind of his

everything about him really

as for aftercare, you'd go to the kitchen, and cook a simple meal to enjoy together before falling asleep right in the living room, too tired to trek back to the bedroom

he's the little spoon tonight

you left no room for argument, wanting to be the one to cradle him close to you and make him feel just as safe and protected as he makes you everyday

[lvsrckk]

how you get the girl

||*. aphrodite! daughter x percy jackson

warnings: none ! a little angst if you squint

summary: the one where your siblings come up with outrageous plans to try and win percy over.

a/n: i hope you like!!! feel free to request

you had been in love with percy jackson for exactly one year, four months, and seven days.

not that you were counting. (you were. obsessively. quietly. hopelessly.)

it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. not to you.

you were supposed to be the one with the upper hand. the one who knew love better than anyone, who had hearts wrapped around her little finger. you were a child of aphrodite, after all, fluent in affection, fluent in flirting, fluent in pretending none of it ever mattered.

but it did. with him, it did. every single glance from percy made your stomach flutter like a butterfly trap. every time he laughed near you, you felt like your heart was cracking wide open just to make room for more of him.

you never meant to fall in love with percy jackson.

but gods, you did. completely.

you loved the way he grinned when he was nervous. the way he talked to animals like they could understand him—and, sometimes, they actually did. you loved how he fought like his life was worth less than everyone else’s. how he always gave everything he had and still somehow found more to give.

you loved the way he said your name. like it was safe in his mouth.

and because you loved him so much, you never told him.

because he was a hero. and you? you were soft touches and shiny lips and campfire stories no one took seriously. you were all heart and no armor. and the idea of letting him see that was terrifying.

so you did what you did best.

you kept it hidden beneath your perfectly applied lip gloss and practiced smiles.

you watched him from afar. memorized his laugh. remembered every dumb joke he told, even the ones that made no sense. you let yourself dream in the quiet hours (when the world was still and no one was watching.) when you could pretend for just a moment that maybe, maybe, he already knew.

it should have stayed your secret.

but, of course, it didn’t.

you were sitting cross-legged on the floor of the aphrodite cabin, braiding drew’s hair in front of the vanity when it all fell apart.

the conversation was harmless enough. light, bubbly, and buzzing with summer heat.

“okay, but seriously,” drew said, twisting a strand of her dark, flawless hair. “if percy jackson asked you on a date, you’d say yes, right? like, who wouldn’t?”

you snorted. “please, everyone has a crush on percy. that’s not news.”

but your hands froze for just a second too long. your voice cracked in the middle of the word crush.

drew’s eyes widened like you’d just told her you’d secretly been married to him for months.

“oh my gods,” she gasped. “you’re in love with him.”

you shook your head too quickly. “what? no. no, i—”

“you totally are!” she screeched, spinning around to face you. “you’ve been acting all dreamy lately whenever he’s around! and you were watching him during capture the flag like you were in a trance!”

you opened your mouth to protest, but then mitchell leaned in, eyes wide and gleaming.

“wait, is that why you always sit by the strawberry fields at lunch?” mitchell whispered. “because he walks by there?”

you buried your face in your hands. “i hate both of you.”

they giggled and squealed like you’d given them the juiciest gossip of the summer.

and then, of course, silena beauregard, your cabin’s unofficial voice of reason, looked up from her magazine and said calmly, “well, it’s about time.”

“excuse me?” you blinked at her, startled.

“please,” silena said, inspecting her nails. “we’ve all known for months. you think we don’t notice when you go full heart eyes in the dining pavilion every time he says ‘pass the salt’?”

you groaned dramatically and flopped backward onto your bed.

“can we please not make this a thing?” you mumbled.

but of course, it became a thing.

they called it operation get percy to fall in love with you without you actually having to say anything.

spoiler: it went horribly.

plan A was a handwritten love letter, perfumed and sealed with a kiss, meant to “mysteriously” end up in his cabin. drew was supposed to deliver it. she accidentally left it on clarisse’s bunk.

clarisse confronted you at breakfast the next morning and said, “i’m flattered, but no thanks.” percy was sitting three seats down and nearly choked on his blue pancakes.

plan b was a “spontaneous” invitation to a romantic stargazing event hosted by the aphrodite cabin. percy showed up.. with annabeth.

“she said it sounded suspicious, so she came to scope it out,” he explained cheerfully. “you know, in case it was a trap or something.”

you didn’t cry. you just went back to your cabin and screamed into your pillow until your mascara ran.

plan c was a tray of aphrodite blessed cupcakes with a touch of love potion. they were blue, of course, because percy only liked blue desserts. you handed him one, blushing, practically vibrating with nervous energy.

he smiled sweetly�� and gave it to grover as a thank you for helping him fix his sword strap.

twenty minutes later, grover tried to marry a pine tree.

by the time plan d involved a cursed necklace that made people walk toward their “true love,” you were done.

you weren’t even mad anymore. just exhausted.

some part of you started to believe the universe was making a point: stop trying. it’ll never happen. he’ll never see you the way you see him.

you’d been quiet ever since.

until one golden late afternoon, when you found percy sitting alone on the dock by the canoe lake.

he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

his shoulders were hunched, eyes distant, the light of the setting sun washing over his face like honey. he was tossing pebbles into the water one at a time, lost in thought.

you knew you should turn back.

but you didn’t.

your feet carried you toward him before your brain could catch up.

he glanced up when he heard you approach, and the tiredness in his eyes melted just a little.

“hey,” he said.

you sat beside him, careful not to sit too close.

“hey.”

he flicked another rock into the water. the splash was small and silent.

“you okay?” he asked without looking at you.

you hesitated. “yeah,” you lied. “you?”

he let out a soft breath. “just… tired. everything feels kind of heavy lately.”

you looked at him. not the hero. not the son of poseidon. not the legend.

just him. just a boy.

“you don’t always have to carry everything by yourself, you know,” you said gently.

his eyes flicked toward you, startled.

you gave him a soft smile. “it’s okay to let someone take care of you sometimes.”

he didn’t say anything for a long moment.

then, quietly, he said, “thanks.”

your chest ached.

you wanted to kiss him.

you wanted to run.

instead, you just sat there, shoulder to shoulder, as the sun sank lower and the lake shimmered in silence.

you didn’t sleep that night.

you returned to the aphrodite cabin feeling drained, wanting nothing but to collapse into your sheets.

but silena was waiting at the door, arms folded, lips pursed.

“no more ridiculous schemes,” she said.

you blinked. “wait. really?”

she nodded. “i mean it.”

for a second, you thought she was giving up.

but then she added, “you don’t need theatrics. you don’t need potions or plans. this isn’t a tragedy, y/n. it’s a love story.”

you sat on the edge of your bed, staring at your hands.

“aren’t those the same thing?” you asked quietly.

silena walked over and took your face in her hands. her expression was soft.

“only when people wait too long to say what’s in their heart.”

you swallowed. “what if he doesn’t feel the same?”

“then at least you’ll stop torturing yourself wondering,” she whispered. “and you’ll be free.”

free.

you didn’t sleep. you just thought.

the next morning, you found percy by the stables, brushing down blackjack. the pegasus neighed when he saw you and nudged percy in the back.

percy turned, surprised. then he smiled.

“hey,” he said, and it was so simple. so him.

you took a shaky breath. “i need to tell you something.”

he blinked. “uh, okay.”

you looked at him. really looked at him.

messy hair. sea glass eyes. kind hands.

“i’ve liked you for a really long time,” you said, voice shaking. “like… stupidly long. and i know you probably don’t feel the same, and that’s okay. i just needed you to know. because pretending not to feel it hurts more than telling you the truth.”

he stared at you, stunned.

you felt your heart start to shrivel.

but then—

“wait,” he said. “you… like me?”

you nodded.

he laughed. it wasn’t cruel. just breathless.

“i thought you were way out of my league,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “i figured i didn’t have a shot.”

you blinked. “you’re percy jackson.”

he smiled.

“and you’re you.”

you kissed him.

he kissed you back.

it was slow and soft, like both of you were afraid to break the moment. his hands slid gently to your waist. your fingers curled into his hair. the world faded into golden light and the sound of your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

when you pulled away, he looked dazed.

“i’m really glad you told me,” he said.

you grinned. “me too.”

your cabin exploded when you got back.

“i knew it,” drew screamed.

“was it plan f or plan g?” mitchell cried.

“no, it was plan honesty,” silena said with a little smile.

you didn’t stop smiling for days.

you still weren’t used to it—his hand in yours, the way he kissed your temple when no one was looking. the way he looked at you like you were made of starlight.

you weren’t dreaming anymore.

you were living your love story.

and for the first time in your life…

you were happy to be hopeless.

a/n pt 2!: lmk if you want a follow up w a first date ;)

[drgnflyteabox]

red ochre [5]

series masterlist previous || part five -> kermes || part six -> madder

> summary: big nun, little nun > tags/warnings: guilt, religious / moral turmoil, stockholm syndrome, child abuse (past), scars, simon returns, corruption (past), misogyny (past), whipping (past), blood, suffering (past mostly), power imbalance, freeze response (past), guilt, dissociation, dom/sub dynamics, we're learning consent (kinda? eeh), violent imagery, dubcon/noncon, vaginal fingering, choking, throat grab

When Johnny asks how it felt to go from there – the convent, you think he means – to here, you can only describe it as dunking your hands into ice water. 

Shocking, painful, and prickling all over.

He only says hm, and moves on. His face is pensive. You don’t tell him that sometimes, you wake up and aren’t in the water anymore.

Even in prayer, you hadn’t thought as much as you had since you’d been taken. Hadn’t worried as much. Teachings from adults since youth had told you that everybody was inherently sinful, even children.

So why is the community around you so happy without God? They have their own, you know this, but the multitude of them and their roles in divine hierarchy aren’t necessarily about absolute power.

There are woman-Gods, Gods without designations, Gods for the earth and the children and unions between people. You find it hard to continue calling them heretics, devils, when they’re really just people. Different, yes, strange and incomprehensible, but people nonetheless.

Heathens, you try to think. Heathens, devils. They took you

You wonder when the last time you thought of yourself as just a person was, when you weren’t a thing set within a rigid mold, beaten down in more ways than one.

On the eve of Simon's return you catch Johnny doing something secretive. He's hunched over the table, the tip of his tongue stuck out of his mouth in concentration. The soft sound of scraping, of wood gently knocking is all you can hear over the fire.

“What's that?��� you ask, when your curiosity gets the best of you.

Johnny turns, one eye squinted, the every picture of concentration. He holds up a carved figure – a woman, it looks like. Ah, it’s you. Though hard to tell, the woman wears a veil and sits on a chair, hunched.

Your veil. You’d nearly forgotten what it felt like. It used to be a weight, heavy and pressing, a shackle. Now you miss the safety of not feeling so exposed all the time.

Somewhere in the journey here it had been lost, or maybe thrown overboard. Your habit, too, replaced for the woolen Viking-style dresses bought and bartered for by Simon and Johnny. Even you have to admit you enjoy the colours more, even if the conformity of the convent felt safe.

“How long were you watching me?” you breathe, eyes wide and still staring.

“Not long, lamb,” he smiles disarmingly. “Ah just remember ye, sittin’ pretty.”

“Working on the tapestry,” you correct him, though it doesn’t really matter.

He looks back down to his little figure, pensive.

“Ah guess so,” he says jovially.

“It was my punishment,” you add. This probably matters even less, but the clash of worlds has thrown you off balance. You feel unbearably present, unbearably lucid.

I was a nun, you think. Am I still a nun?

“Punishment?” he frowns. “Ah thought they struck ye?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes I had to work extra hard.”

“Like a bairn?”

“A what?”

“A child, lamb,” he smiles again.

You look into the fire, thinking. Punishment applied to everyone, not just children, no? Even Simon and Johnny had punished you. But who had given them the right? Had you, with your secret want? Your secret lustful sin?

“You punished me,” you settle on.

“Aye, we did,” he nods. “Ye needed it.”

“Then why do you… ah, disparage the church for doing the same?”

He turns to you.

“Ah think ye got it all wrong,” he says simply. “We don’t give it to ye to make ye hurt. Aren’t ye better after? Righted?”

Righted. That’s a word worth its weight in gold. As is the truth of his words, but you stay quiet and look into the fire instead of responding.

You take up Johnny’s offer to spend time with Kari. Johnny walks you there, holds your hand in the cold and blows hot air on them as you wait together outside their door.

When Gaz opens it, he hoots and hollers as if the frigid air outside has no effect on him, as if his inner warmth and naturally excitable disposition is no match for the cold.

You have to admire that. At least a little.

“Hi there,” Gaz says to you, a greeting softer than the one he gave Johnny.

“Hello,” you try to subtly peek inside, “it’s… nice to see you.”

He doesn’t take offence to your awkward, stilted attempt at politeness. Maybe he knows you’re not quite comfortable here, to put it lightly, and only claps your shoulder gently to pull you in.

“Have fun!” Johnny shouts, already leaving, “and give me my wife back in one piece!”

That makes you sheepish, but you try to ignore your feelings in favour of moving towards Kari and the little baby, Tyra.

“Hello again,” she greets, smiling. The baby stares at you, babbles ceasing as if she’s seeing you for the first time. Her little head swings towards her mother, hiding despite her clear curiosity.

“You’ve met me before,” you say softly, trying valiantly not to frighten her as you take a seat opposite to Kari.

“She’s feeling shy lately,” Kari looks down and tuts, swiping a thumb over Tyra’s chubby cheek, “needs her mama.”

Weaving here is not much different than weaving at the convent. Once you get the basics down, you’re threading dyed wool into cloth astride Kari.

Some spirit of confidence grips you.

“Will you tell me anything about Simon and Johnny?”

“About-” she lifts her head, “Simon and Johnny? Don’t they speak to you?”

“They - do,” you rush to assure her, though your voice maintains a weary unsureness.

Luckily for you, she gives you a small but comforting smile over the wool.

“You’re looking for an outside opinion? That’s okay, lovely girl, I just might not know as much about them as my husband does,” she gestures with her chin towards Gaz, who walks towards you both.

“What d’you need to know?” he asks casually, sidling up to Kari affectionately, “think they’ll be able to answer better than me.”

“I only really know… what I’ve seen. I haven’t…” your mouth twists as you trail off, frustration germinating as you struggle. Right, you can commit sins of the flesh but you can’t ask a question to sate curiosity — one which might be the difference between surviving and not surviving.

Knowledge is important, after all. Powerful. You think of Eve, who doomed humanity for it, naked as the day she was born and as clueless as Adam yet ate the apple anyway.

“I know they’re… warriors,” you pause, “since they’re all scarred, but—“

“Well, not necessarily—” Kari starts, until Gaz puts a palm on her thigh and gives her a look you can’t discern. 

“That’s not something we should share,” Gaz says tightly, but kindly.

“How else..?” you frown.

Tyra stirs, and Kari gives Gaz another look.

“Simon’s father used to be chief,” she lifts the babe back into her lap, patting, cooing, “it’s not a nice story, but if you need it to understand them better then I don’t mind telling it.”

“I want to know about them,” you insist, trying to push past the sense of danger, the sense that you’ll be hurt or killed for toeing out of line.

Testing the elasticity of safety here perhaps isn’t wise, but testing it might be what you need to settle. Knowing where the boundaries are, what’s expected, where they come from… you wonder if you’ll doom everybody, like Eve.

“Believe it or don’t, but we’ve only just rekindled the hunts, the raids. How it should be,” she starts.

Gaz sighs, leaning back where he’s sitting. You assume his hesitance is out of loyalty for his comrades, but you choose tentatively to ignore him in favour of his wife.

“We had a lazy, drunken leader,” Kari continues, “Simon’s father inherited the title through lineage, not through prowess as is… more natural to us.”

You nod slowly, trying to imagine. In the church, such things were often gained with corruption: any wealthy lords’ son could rise high in the ranks, if he had the money and means.

The convent had somewhat of a similar issue, though the women were ‘married’ into the church and the power rested in the hands of their families. 

Such was the world.

Not always, but you’d heard of it often enough. One of the abbots of the monastery in the closest town had been the son of an affluent donator, and thus received power of authority over the other monks.

“To make a long story short, and more respectful to Simon—” Gaz looks at her then “—his father was needlessly cruel both to his own children, his wife, and to those he was responsible for.”

“So, those scars…?”

“Some are from fighting, of course. But usually, no one’s getting close enough to those two to land that kind of damage. I’m sure you can fill in the rest.”

Gaz butts in here,  “or, you can ask him yourself.”

“How did that woman, I forgot her name, come to be chief?” you frown in thought.

Gaz takes over again, his hand dragging up from the small of his wife's back and squeezing her nape. It’s as much of a warning as you’ve seen, though it’s quiet and Kari looks sheepish, not afraid, “Kate challenged him.”

“A challenge?” you frown, “such as?”

“A fight to the death.”

“Oh,” your lips close, and thin, and your eyebrows fly up. “I didn’t realize… I mean, violence is…”

They don’t do you the courtesy of filling in for you, so you go silent and the air settles.

Johnny picks you up later, when you’ve helped Kari with a big portion of her weaving. You love the threads, the dyeing process. It’s meditative.

“Good ?” Johnny nudges your side, slipping a hand to just above your waist, fingers tickling the side of your breast.

“Yes,” and it’s honest.

He walks you home, hand in hand, and cannot stop talking about Simon's return.

“Ah’ve never been without him this long,” he rambles over the fire, stirring a potato soup, “think yer gonnae be witness to something dirty. Sorry, lamb.”

Only he’s grinning, and he’s not sorry, and you can see the front of his pants begin to tent.

Johnny later offers you that very same sin, tilting his hips towards you and swinging his cock obscenely, cheekily. You do not take him up on it despite the smolder that begins between your legs – you simply turn, and try to sleep through the sounds of his self-abuse.

Simon returns without much fanfare, slipping into the house with a seemingly practiced silence. He moves like a ghost.

Johnny doesn't wake yet, sleeping like an affectionate log behind you.

His gaze meets yours, as impassive as always, framed in a halo of white winter light. He looks handsome this way, though it also has the effect of making his scars look deeper – crevasses on his face for shadows to lay in.

You watch as he strips his winter garments, slipping then beside you, evening out the weight on the bed.

“How did it go?” you whisper. If he's surprised that you spoke he doesn't show it, staring up at the ceiling, muscles decompressing. Sighing like a big dog.

In lieu of speaking, he lifts something into your focus. Oh, it's a tooth, sharp and white. A predator's tooth.

“The rest tomorrow,” he says quietly.

You can tell he's tired. His face looks weary. How far do they travel for these hunts? You assume quite far, as it’s enough to tire even a seasoned warrior.

So, rather than speaking, asking him from which creature he took this tooth, you tentatively reach your hand up to press your fingers against his thick scars.

Simon freezes, as do you. Then, as he relaxes, you trace the grooves on his face with your fingers tightly. Very lightly.

A delicate moment is born then. Johnny's deep, sleepy breathing behind you, Simon's acquiescence – it's a tranquil thing. As thin as lace, as sweet as a crisp apple.

After some time, when you've traced his face twice over and his eyes are half-lidded, you speak softly.

“Why me?”

“You're beautiful,” he says simply, sighing again, “we wanted to.”

It becomes harder, again, to hold the belief of them as devils. That they smelled the sin on you and picked you that way.

“Don't you think it's cruel?”

“No,” finally, he turns to you.

“It was,” you assert recklessly. Fear twists in your gut, poisonous.

“You were scared.”

“Yes.”

“Are you still scared?”

“I feel like you can see right through me. That scares me.”

“Not at first.”

“Then when?”

His hand finds the dip of your waist. Squeezes.

“On the boat, when you pushed up against me like a wet kitten. Even scared, you needed it.”

“You were cruel to me then, too.”

“I’m a cruel man.”

There's a stray thought that wiggles to life in the back of your head that suggests sympathy for him despite his statement. That you can begin seeing the path of his life and understand how he came to be.

You think of punishment again; about parents and children, husband's and wives, about Simon and his father. That wasn't punishment, if you're understanding it the way Kari implied.

A memory strikes you, unbidden and unwelcome. 

Salt blows in the air,  metallic and thick in your nose. Not sea salt, not the wind you love so much, but from blood spraying. 

The man brought his son to the convent, citing his bad behaviour as ungodly. Sister Margret was pleading with him, hands clasped in desperate prayer and voice high, reedy, as she begged him to just stop hitting him – please, just stop hitting him!

The boy cowered. Not a child, but a boy nonetheless. Young enough to make an impression, round-cheeked, on the cusp of manhood. Stained with blood.

He lifted the rope, again and again and again, even as Margret leapt for his arm and tried to stop him, pulling, shouting.

You were stock still, frozen, not even a tremble in your body. Your eyes had widened when he first struck the boy and you’d been stuck since.

Simon takes your hand, peels it away from your dress, pulling you bodily towards him and out of the memory.

With your cheek pressed close to his bare shoulder, you murmur, “did you take me to hurt me?”

“No,” he says, sounding for once like he isn’t hiding anything.

“Did you hit me to really hurt me?”

“No,” he repeats, then, “I hit you because you needed it, because you liked it.”

“I’ve seen…” you don’t continue.

“I know.”

“We’ve both been hurt,” your voice is a whisper.

“Mm,” Simon confirms.

You think of the boy. Of his father. Of his terrified, deer-like eyes, blood splattered on his back and on the ground and soaked into the rope – about how four townsmen had to pull his father away for fear of killing the boy.

How you felt when you hit yourself, when the abbess hit you, how different they were to when Simon took his palm to your ass.

Shame. That had been in the boy's eyes that day. He had hid his face in his arms, cowering not only from fear but from being seen.

You’d felt that same shame each time you’d been punished, intensifying, twisting together until you’d learned to turn the same pain inwards.

 “Are you afraid of being seen?” you murmur to Simon.

“No.”

You don’t have to say the silent part; that you’re the afraid one. That Simon correctly interpreting your need for a different kind of control, one that let you lose yourself, felt like you’d been flayed for all to see.

Simon moves his hand lower, cupping the soft curve of your behind, staring at you, testing the waters. You know that if you said no, he might anyways, but you stay quiet as his fingers lift the hem of your dress.

The fabric slides over your skin, a whisper in the air, tickling you. He rubs his rough, hairy knuckles against your thigh close to where it meets your leg.

He pauses there, breathing slowly, before he slides a finger up your slit and through the thatch of hair above it.

“If I made a request,” you murmured, “would you grant it?”

“Make it, and I’ll tell you.”

He slips a finger to rub your hole, just outside, teasing, while his thumb finds your clit.

“I don’t want you to take me until we’re man and wife… men and wife.”

Simon hums, rubs gently, makes your hips undulate.

“Do you think you’re in a place to be making requests like that, love?”

“I haven’t asked for anything else.”

He raises a brow, sliding his finger inside you to the knuckle when you’re wet enough.

“Haven’t you?”

Your breathing deepens, hands coming down to hold his thick wrist, pulling almost subconsciously. Even now, you can’t totally let go, leaning away from him and the pleasure.

But he understands, leaning over you, using his other hand to pin you to the mattress by your throat. It’s not the nicest hold, but the burning of your lungs heightens the pulsing in your cunt.

“Think you just made a few requests right now,” he grunts, using your leg to rub his hard, clothed cock.

There’s a stirring beside you. Johnny groans as he wakes up, then laughs sleepily.

“Ah woke up just in time,” his voice is rough with sleep.

Simon hums, mmm, in that deep rumble of his. He slips another finger inside you, crooking them, making you gasp raggedly. Your hands still clutch his wrist, weaker now, but it’s half resistance half comfort.

“Mm, good girl,” Johnny murmurs. He curls into your side, cock growing against your hip, wrapping a leg around you while his hand climbs beneath your pulled up dress and palms your tit.

God, you could die just like this: fighting for breath, touched all over, held down and made free. The hate you had for them feels irrelevant, the fear, the brutal way in which they stole you.

You can’t even think about if Simon will disregard your request – your last frontier against them, the treasure between your legs for a husband only.

Simon’s knuckle deep in it, but still, you can’t let go of that final tether. Not yet, not without any other internal pillars to hold you up.

Everything else has been wiped away. Drawings in the sand on a beach swept by foamy white waves.

Johnny leans in and bites your shoulder, gnawing, hips moving against you. You can’t arch like you want to, but you try.

Wet, sinful sounds grow as you gush around Simon’s fingers, as they use you to get off.

When you peak, white spots dance in your vision, mouth open in a silent scream choked away by Simon's heavy palm.

It’s like flying.

In the afternoon, when you’ve all slept, Simon leaves to speak with John and you prepare lunch with Johnny.

More fish, more potatoes. It’s growing on you.

When Simon returns, he has in his arms a rolled up fur. Though unprocessed and still wet underneath, it’s beautiful, pale, spotted.

He takes a heavy seat in front of you, laying the skin over his knees, taking your hand in his and bringing it to the fur.

Soft. Dense. Your fingers move through the pelt.

“For you,” Simon says.

You look up at him, heart dancing.

His gifts. The apple, the orgasms, this– you don’t know what to make of it. Yes, it’s a kindness, but he’s a cruel man. He’d said so himself, and you’d felt the brunt of it.

Leaning into that cruelty has given you a strange power, a strange solidity. You’d so begun to familiarize yourself with his harshness that you’d forgotten this complexity.

You pinch the fur, feeling it between your fingers, breathing slowly. Your neck ached, but it wasn’t a bad ache; it felt like a phantom hand.

“For me?”

Johnny slides three bowls on the table, grinning.

“Yer first wedding gift,” he says jovially.

 “Oh, I see,” you murmur, but it isn’t a disappointed oh.

Simon leaves later again, full of soup, to process the rest of the hunt’s boon with John. He takes the pelt with him, a snowcat pelt you’ve learned.

Yet, he’d returned with not much more than scratches on him from travel. Tired, yes, but a few hours of sleep and splattering his spend on your belly had fixed that earlier.

You’d bathed, since, though the feeling was hard to shake.

Johnny putters about again, returning to his carving of the little mini you. A peek into the past, one you no longer embodied.

“Can I see when you’re done?” you ask, slipping your favourite wool dress on. The red, well worn one. Soft, comforting. 

“Course,” he mumbles, concentrating. Then, his head shoots up.

“Ye want one o’ Simon ‘n’ I, lamb? Carry us around?” Only it sounds like aroond.

You nod, walking on socked feet to where he’s carving.

“Yes.”

[muniimyg]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . pov!jk . ۫ ꣑ৎ . — [ 3 . ] hello ?

series m.list // taglist unavailable

friends to ???

slow burn is burning

accidental late night phone call

note: thank u for all the love w this jk ! i'm excited to keep this series going ,, i found my motivation for bad habit so i'll be back updating my main bitch this weekend LOL !!! mwah

//

you don’t mean to call him.

you’re lying on your bed with your laptop half-shut beside you, blinking at a google doc full of nothing, your brain fried from rewriting the same sentence in twelve different ways. your thumb slips over your screen—maybe on purpose, maybe not—and suddenly the phone is ringing.

and then he answers.

“hello?”

“oh. hi… s-sorry—”

“you do realize it’s 2am, right?”

his voice is rough with sleep but still amused. you close your eyes. maybe you should hang up. pretend it was an accident. but the sound of him, the way he doesn’t sound annoyed, stops you.

“i didn’t mean to call,” you say softly.

“sure,” he says, a yawn tucked between the syllables. “is this the part where we hang up then?”

you smile a little. 

god. 

this is so stupid… but his voice makes you feel at ease. you’ll take anything to feel more of it. 

he exhales through the phone. you can hear sheets rustling. maybe he’s lying on his back, one arm over his head, blinking at the ceiling the way you are.

“what’s up?” he asks, not pushing. just there. 

you hesitate and he waits.

“i’ve been… stressed,” you say finally.

“no kidding. you ghosted so hard the group thought you died.” he lets out a small chuckle, trying to mask his concern. yet, his words beat him to it. “everything okay?”

you let out a breath of a laugh.

“i’ve been working on something.”

“more school?” he asks. “aren’t you a part of like… every club here?”

“no,” you correct him. “it’s something else.”

there’s a silence. not heavy. just… expectant. as the moment lingers, you trace the edge of your blanket with your finger. your voice comes quieter this time, like if you say it too loud, it’ll disappear.

“jungkook?”

“mm?”

“i applied to a master’s program in australia.”

he doesn’t say anything for a second.

then, “wait—what?”

“yeah.”

“like… australia australia?”

“yeah.”

his voice sharpens, half-awake now. “yo. that’s—great. i’m happy for you. what did misa say about australia—”

“she does’t know.”

“misa doesn’t know? your best friend in the world and roommate… doesn’t know?”

“no,” you answer him, feeling a little choked up. 

“why not?”

you pause.

“i don’t know. maybe i didn’t want to jinx it. or maybe i thought… if i said it out loud, it wouldn’t happen. and i’m scared. i guess that’s the bigger part. she’s gonna believe in me and then i’m going to get my hopes up and then—”

another pause.

“i don’t know. i… y-you’re the first person i’ve told.”

he’s quiet again. and then—soft, sincere:

“i’m honored.”

something in your chest tightens. and then he says, quieter:

“but also, like. a little bummed.”

you blink. “why?”

“cos you’re gonna get in,” he says, like it’s obvious. “and then you’re gonna go.”

you smile. it’s the kind of smile that aches.

“i haven’t even gotten a response yet. i don’t expect to hear back for a few months.”

“doesn’t matter,” he says, confident. “you’re gonna get it.”

you sigh. “i don’t know.”

you roll onto your side, tugging the blanket higher over your shoulder.

“honestly… i keep asking myself if i’m even good enough,” you admit. “like… do i deserve this? what if i get in and mess it up? what if i’m not ready? it was hard enough leaving home and moving in with misa. my parents made that such a dramatic change… and my brother—god, i’d miss him too much. i’m only a car ride away from them right now… what happens when i’m halfway across the world? when i’m an airplane ticket to save up for? when i’m—w-what if i don’t come back? i…feel so guilty for even applying. ”

jungkook doesn’t interrupt. he doesn’t jump to fix it. he just listens. and then, with that same calm, collected tone:

“you’re in you’re head, kid. but also, i don’t think you’re asking yourself the right questions.”

you frown. “what am i supposed to ask?”

“do you want it?”

you go still.

your heart beats louder in the quiet.

“do you want to leave? you could easily get into the master program here, but only if you want it. you’re allowed to worry and feel guilty—but you should also allow yourself to want things and to have them. this is a good thing, ___. i want you to have it if you want it… only if you want it.”

his words strike you. they shift your perception in the slightest way and crack open a piece of you that you didn’t think needed any attention on. 

“…yeah,” you say, after a breath. “i do. so bad.”

he hums. “then it’s yours.”

“you can’t just say that like it’s that simple.”

“it is,” he says. “or at least… it should be.”

you don’t answer.

because the thing is—he says it like it’s already decided. like the wanting is enough. and coming from him, it almost feels true.

your voice is small when you continue to vent. 

“i’ve been running around like a psycho trying to gather references, build out extra work, cram every ‘look at me, i’m worth it’ thing i can into my portfolio.”

he makes a sound. not quite a laugh. not quite a sigh. “you’ve always been worth it.”

your throat tightens.

you press your face into your pillow and mumble, “you’re annoying.”

“you called me.”

you huff. “by accident.”

“sure.”

he lets the silence sit again. it’s comforting, the way he fills space without taking it.

and in that quiet, your thoughts start to settle. not disappear, not solve themselves—but settle. the way they do when someone is holding them with you. not telling you to be stronger. not telling you to be less afraid. just sitting beside the fear like it doesn’t make you weaker.

you think, not for the first time, that jungkook is dangerous in that way. not because he overwhelms you—but because he doesn’t. because he lets you take up space, even when you don’t want to.

you murmur, “thank you.”

“for what?”

“just… being the first person who knows.”

[rpclefairy]

𝐁𝐆𝟑 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

a selection of lines from the various companions' banter quotes (not cut scene dialogues!) from baldur's gate 3. these are generally spoiler free and non context specific so they can apply to different settings and dynamics! feel free to change names and the like to customize the prompts.

“Death can't have me. Not yet…”

“Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.”

“Realmspace is vast. Countless worlds to be mapped, kingdoms to be conquered.”

“I have missed this. The adventure. The danger. The kicking of butts!

“Let me guess - you need something.”

“Such attention.. I never realised I was so popular.”

“Let's cook with fire, baby.”

“Do you intend to vocalise every thought?. Or just the most obvious ones?”

“Wherever we go, ye gods let there be something green.”

“Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.”

“Watch your elders and learn.”

“Perhaps try attacking the enemy?”

“So much we don't know, lingering in the furthest reaches of existence.”

“All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.”

“The shadows are my friend.”

“Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.”

“Feet planted firmly on Faerûn, please.”

“Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities.”

“Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you?”

“I am ready, whatever may come.”

“My faith protects me.”

“Need a throat slitting?”

“Death greets us all - but not today.”

“You need my expertise?”

“Can you feel death's cold grip?”

“So many stars, so many mysteries yet to be discovered.”

“Death comes quietly.”

“And I thought we were going to be friends.”

“Locked tight, but there must be some way to open it.”

“No, you can't die. Get up, damn you!

“You had my attention, now you have my fury.”

“From silence to suffering.”

“So many worlds out there. You'd need a thousand lifetimes to see them all - more.”

“I hope this is important. For your sake.”

“Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.”

“I ought to just burn this whole thing down.”

“We have slightly more pressing matters to attend to.”

“You have still have time to surrender.”

“Every kicked buttock, another step on the path.”

“Weave save me. I can't take much more…

“You are right to fear me.”

“Let me look around. Might be something that'll help me crack this thing.”

“Incredible, to think how many worlds exist beyond this tiny speck within a speck I call home.”

“I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.”

“I can fawn over my face later.”

“Ready for another round?”

“Keep your blade close.”

“I can't unlock it from here, but there must be a switch or a button somewhere…”

“No, that's not moving. There must be a way to open it somewhere.”

“Battle favours the fearless.”

“Sleep with one eye open, evil. Maybe both.”

“Gotta be something around here to unlock this thing.”

“Why do beautiful people taste better?. It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities.”

“Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too.”

“Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails.”

“Still standing, no matter what you heard.”

“Enough waiting. I crave blood.”

“Hang on - I won't allow this. You aren't dead, go it?”

“GODS, it's HOT in here!”

“No rest for the wicked, I see.”

“Better to hide than fight, sometimes.”

“Would that I could hide from you, too.”

“Are you feeling lonely, perhaps?”

“There is no right or wrong, only truth.”

“Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe.”

“What good all this ethereal eladrin blood if I can still get pimples?”

“I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.”

“I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness.”

“Let's have some fun.”

“War is an old woman's game.”

“No rest, be you wicked or wise.”

“I'm getting too old for this nonsense.”

“I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want.”

“You have my attention - now do something with it.”

“You are insistent, are you not?”

“Do what must be done.”

“Your suffering will be spectacular.”

“Lest I sit down for a rest and not rise again.”

“Better to look evil in the eye. Even if it be very small.”

“I'm not built to crouch.”

“I think I could go another round.”

“Always the same old song.”

“Is perfection too much to ask?”

“Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner.”

“So many places to be.. and I chose Baldur's Gate.”

“I'm not opening that. Not from here, at any rate.”

“What is the point, if not victory?”

“Won't last much longer like this.”

“Let's hope the locals are friendly.”

“Let us show them how it's done.”

“Weapons high. Standards higher.”

“Must everyone be so exhausting?”

“What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb…”

“Which way to the nearest library?”

“Now this is my happy place.”

“Who shall I silence?”

“Stop, or die.”

“Wear your scars proudly.”

[krystella-shifts]

Everything is clicking for me y'all!!! ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Part 2 lmao

If you need help with: • how to stop reacting to the 3d • stop looking at 3d for validation & be ur own validation • how to manifest shifting/shift using loa • manifest FASTER cuz you won't be wavering anymore • ALL OF IT CAN BE ANSWERED FOR YOU IN THIS POST

First of let's take a example ✨

Manifesting money example ★*'•

let's say you Affirm for money, you script it or whatever you do and you get movement. You see signs or hear about a promotion at your job or idk hearing your parents talk about giving you sum cash lol BUT THEN you check your bank account and it's the same amount or you didn't see anything, you didn't hear anything else from your parents and you get discharged like "oh wtvr. Didn't work. Nothing is happening" blah blah

If you're not a shifter you don't have to read this.

Shifting ⊹ .° ୭̥

as a shifting blog (yes it is 😭) let's take a shifting example & explanation for understanding and applying in shiftings case.

So you were trying to shift to your dr and you felt all the symptoms, lights, emotions and sensations that you are there, you affirmed,you did the method, you felt like you ARE there but you were still nervous to open your eyes, unsure if you shifted but you finally did open your eyes.... And it was your bubble reality (I call this shiz bubble reality deal with it 💀) THEN YOU GOT FRUSTRATED AND PUT LABELS ON THIS ATTEMPT AS A "FAILED ATTEMPT" AND ROLLED OVER AND CALLED IT A DAY.

My honest reaction if you've done anything like that:

First of all- why're you "TRYING"?? you're the one deciding here, you're the creator of your reality. No matter what kind of reality you're experiencing, you 🫵🏻 created it. Yes you did. And all those symptoms, yeah tbh it's fun to feel symptoms but they're just the effects on body and your body is NOT the one shifting so don't focus on it too much, use it as a placebo effect rather. if you get symptoms believe that they mean you're shifting/have shifted. You did all that affirming, visualizing and felt it, you were almost certain you shifted.. but the thing is you need to be FULLY certain instead of almost certain. No matter what you see, you keep having it in your mind/imagination. HERE'S WHY YOU DO NOT LOOK AT THE 3D FOR VALIDATION... CUZ IT IS LOOKING RIGHT BACK AT YOU RIGHT IN THE FACE FOR VALIDATIONNNN. you're the validation here.

4d is above 3d for a reason. Why we call it more real reality is because it is the one creating. Imagination is the creative mode, like a factory where it's all made. Physical world is just a reflection of it so what's more real bruh? A mirror? Absolutely not. So why would you look at it for validation. It's like wanting to put on mascara but you're putting it on the mirror and asking why it's not working. Cuz YOU ARE THE ONE WHO NEEDS TO CHANGEEE. if you are not even changing then don't even be upset that the 3d is still the same pls. Ofc it is cuz your core beliefs are still the same as well!

You don't look outside of you for validation when you're literally creating the outside from the inside (your imagination.)

It's like reading yesterday's news paper and expecting today's news.

A very important thing that clicked for me was when I Affirm/visualise/script wtvr, it's inevitable that I'm gonna get what I want so there's ABSOLUTELY NO REASON ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH TO CHECK THE 3D BRUH. it clicked for me that 3d is so ducking powerless 😮‍💨 unless ‼️ YOU give it power. It's ONLY a reflection of who you are, what you're being/your state. Idgaf, the law doesn't gaf. whatever you assume IS true.

So why are you letting 3d decide if you have it or not? If you shifted or not? If you stick to the fact that you do have it, NOT for the 3d to confirm, cuz that's inevitable, but for YOU. do it for you bro, do it for you. And OBVIOUSLY it's gonna be reflected in the physical IF YOU ARE STICKING TO THE NEW STORY. Don't go back and forth with "oh I have it" "no i don't FML" "i am in my dr" "when will I shift from this reality? It sucks" YOU CAN'T SERVE TWO MASTERSSSS

So stop looking at the 3d for validation cuz you're the one who created and is creating it. Even if you open your eyes here- no you didn't. No you DID NOT. You're literally in your DR, wtf are you talking about? You're literally slaying. I am in my dr cuz I said so. Idgaf what 3d says.

TMI: my wallpaper literally says "Go within, everything you need is there" No matter what it is, it's gonna happen if you have it in the 4d.

[lvlystars]

29 reasons i love you — c.sc

pairing. choi seungcheol x fem!reader

genre. fluff. just pure, teeth rotting fluff.

summary. gifting your boyfriend by just handing him the gift is overrated!!! (pls kill me i suck at summaries)

warnings. none

a/n. SEUNGCHEOL BIRTHDAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYYAYAYA (also happy 1 year to this blog!!!)

wc. 1.2k

you chew at your lip as you scroll through a blog, talking about how to gift your partner in various special ways. of course you had a special gift for him—you just felt like you wanted to do something small as a thoughtful little present.

“birthday kisses…their age equates to how many kisses you give them…too simple…” you mumble to yourself. your eyes widen when the next idea says the idea can apply to how many gifts you give them in the day.

no matter how much you love him, there’s no way you can gift seungcheol 29 gifts. your wallet would sob.

“baby?” you shove your phone under your pillow as your boyfriend walks into the room, drying his damp hair with a towel. you eyed the oversized white t-shirt he wore, the shirt hanging loosely over his broad shoulders as he hums to himself. 

“wanna help me with skincare?” he asks, pointing to the bathroom for you to follow him, and you nod. it was endearing how he never forgets every night—your nightly routine of doing his skincare for him, despite the fact that he is very much capable of doing it himself.

a comfortable silence envelops the both of you as you rub in seungcheol’s skin products into his soft skin, the way he grips your waist softly and stares down at you with that stupid boyish smile he always looked at you with awakening all kinds of butterflies in your stomach. that stupid smile that never seemed to give you a break ever since you met him at your old local library—when he shot that smile at you every time you spotted him on fridays, studying for your university courses, or just finding a book to read for some pass time.

“daydreaming?” his voice pulls you out of your little trip down memory lane, making you smile softly before applying some lip balm on his plump lips. you shake your head. “no, just thinking about tomorrow.” seungcheol’s eyes lit up at the mention of the special day tomorrow that he looks forward to every year: his birthday.

when his birthday rolls around, seungcheol claims that he can ‘tell’ when people are his true friends—through the test of how fast they wish him happy birthday. god knows how many times your boyfriend has sulked over one of his friends not wishing him at 12 o’clock on the dot, and lucky for you, you haven’t missed a single birthday ever since you met him. you’ve held the longest streak so far.

“sooo…what did you get me?” seungcheol grins teasingly, and you huff, rolling your eyes. “just a few more hours, you big baby. you can wait.” you scold him, making him pout just a little, his stance deflating.

“now let’s go to sleep. i promise to wake you up and wish you at 12 on the dot, i have an alarm too. now come.” you reassure him, grabbing his wrist and leading him to the bed before sliding in. seungcheol’s arm immediately wraps around your midriff out of habit, pulling you flush against his chest as he softly inhales your scent and presses a chaste kiss to the crook of your neck.

“even if you didn’t get me a gift, you’re the best present, y’know? waking up next to you is like…the best thing in the world. the best gift in the world that i get everyday.” he hums, making you chuckle at his groggy words as he slipped into his slumber.

———

you wake up and check the time, mentally thanking whatever forced you to wake up at this time, since it was about half an hour before midnight. you try to unravel yourself from seungcheol’s hold, making him stir a little before sighing again, lying on his back.

you pull out your phone, reopening the blog, and you wait for the page to refresh when an idea pops into your head, making you immediately pull out every sticky note you had in your study.

you were quick to grab a pen and doodle on 29 sticky notes, each sticky note having a small drawing and under it a little 'nth reason why i love you: check (certain location where another sticky would be)', boasting at your original idea and giddy at how your boyfriend would react.

a while later, the clock finally strikes 12, and you sigh in relief when you finally put the finishing touches in your gift before running to your shared bedroom to wake seungcheol up, who was snoring softly in the covers.

“seungcheol…” you hum, coaxing him to wake up softly, and he doesn’t respond. frowning a little, you pat him, and he groans, shaking his head. finally, you yell at him.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL!” he jolts awake, eyes snapping open as they dart around the room in panic before settling on you, pouting while squinting from the hallway light hitting his face. “wha…?”

“get up! i have to give you my gift!” you pull on his arm, and he groans, sitting up while rubbing his eyes awake. he whines something about it waiting until the morning, until he finally realises why you woke him up.

“birthday surprise?” he grins, his eyes now wide awake, and you nod.

“it’s like a scavenger hunt. i placed sticky notes around the place up until the present, and they’re numbered. each sticky note has a clue for where you should look for the next sticky note.” you grin, proud of your little idea, and he raises an eyebrow, endeared at your little activity for him. “there are 29 sticky notes for your age. go look!” you urge him, pushing him to the night stand. as he starts looking, you quickly go to hide with the present.

———

after what seemed like eternity, you finally hear the door to the study room open, and seungcheol pokes his head inside, his hand filled with yellow sticky notes. you held a small jewellery box in your hands, along with a birthday cake lit on the desk, and seungcheol beams when he takes in the sight.

“happy birthday, coups.” you smiled, and he walks up to the desk, his face in awe as he admired the cake, which had a small lion perched on the top with a tiny birthday hat. “for me?” he murmured, looking at you softly, and you nod, handing him the jewellry box excitedly.

when he opens the box, his eyes widen as he admires the charm bracelet you bought, the charms carefully picked by yourself as a small gift for how much he’s done for you ever since you met him. a cherry, a charm of his star sign constellation, and a series of certain charms that had him begging you to tell him the meaning behind each one.

“what about this one?” he asked giddily, pointing to a book charm, and you stared at him with a deadpan look on his face. “how we met? at the library? when you would harass me every single friday by—” “OKAYYY i get it i get it.”

you both walk back to bed once you finish explaining every single detail about the charm bracelet, seungcheol picks up his phone to be bombarded with numerous ‘happy birthday’ messages. he eagerly showed you every single message, showing you all the people who wished him a happy birthday as you cuddle up next to him in bed, lying your head down on his chest and smiling up at him. once you both get comfortable, seungcheol finally puts his phone away, hugging you close to his chest and kissing your temple.

“happy birthday, cheol.”

tags 🏷️ – @arafilez @etherealyoungk @fairyhaos @georgia-hong @gyuguys @voidsatoru @kyeomyun @starshuas @welcometomyoasis @wqnwoos @wheeboo @yoonzinuhh @seuonji @shieunviya @mykpopficblog @chaatandchai @haowrld

networks 🔗 – @c-bouquine @cacaokpop-fics @k-labels

SVT WORKS

send an ask or drop a comment if you want to be added to my general taglist!

ⓒ lvlystars

[notlongtolove]

between the sand and the stardust

burnt toast theory. the butterfly effect. invisible strings. it’s only human nature to try and make sense of the senseless. for all the what-ifs and could-have-beens, the alternate paths and lives you could’ve lived, this is the reality you’re in. you know—effects, theories, strings be damned—that you would’ve found each other.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: reader is up contemplating what life would be like if her and spencer had never met. spencer has a few reassuring things to say about it.

word count: 1.8k

note: inspired by this! spent the entire day nursing the post nye hangover and woke up in a haze to write this. god me whennnn

a line: I’d pray to every god out there, in every language I don’t speak, to find you in every universe where I haven’t found you yet.

If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have never heard, I would still know you. Even if centuries separated us, I would still feel you. Somewhere between the sand and the stardust, through every collapse and creation, there is a pulse that echoes of you and I.

- lang leav

The world has a funny way of looking at things. A knack for folding coincidences into neat little narratives that we, its ever-curious observers, insist on unspooling. Burnt toast theory. The butterfly effect. Invisible strings. It’s only human nature, you suppose, to try and make sense of the senseless. Things happen—things that are just things—and yet, we stitch them together into stories, pull meaning from the chaos, weave threads where there might not be any at all. 

It didn’t make sense that you’d been eleven minutes late to the bus that morning, despite sprinting down the stairs with your laces undone. It didn’t make sense that Spencer’s train had broken down that day when the transit service proudly boasted a 92% on-time rate. It didn’t make sense that the last bus had rumbled away two minutes before you arrived, leaving you stranded at the stop with a dark-eyed boy and an easy smile. 

And it certainly didn’t make sense when you, who always preferred to keep your headphones in and your gaze down, had turned to him in pure desperation and said, “Do you want to split a cab?”

Now, 845 days, 21 hours, and 23 minutes later—Spencer keeps count, of course—you lie in bed, his arms wrapped around you with such love you almost can’t remember what it felt like to navigate the world without him.

You think about that morning sometimes. Would it have mattered if you’d woken up on time? If Spencer’s train hadn’t broken down? You would’ve slipped past each other like all strangers are meant to. You could have missed him entirely. The very thought makes your chest tighten.

And then there’s everything that came after. Maybe you’d still be grinding away at that dead-end job if Spencer hadn’t nudged you—no, shoved you—into applying for that writing scholarship. Maybe he wouldn’t taken some time off to go into teaching if he hadn’t seen how much it broke you when he was shot last year, your sobs echoing in the sterile hospital waiting room.

It’s terrifying to think about. How this moment, this minute, your life is just a single dot in a universe of shifting constellations. One singular version of a story that could have unfolded a million other ways.

You shift slightly, feeling the soft brush of Spencer’s breath against your neck. His arm tightens instinctively, pulling you closer, like even in sleep, he’s afraid to let you drift too far.

“What’re you thinking about, baby?” he murmurs.

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” he says softly, and you can hear the smile in his voice. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, a silent reassurance. “Tell me.” 

You shift, rolling onto your side to face him. The room is dim, illuminated only by the faint glow of the streetlight outside, but you can still make out the soft angles of his face, the curve of his lips, the shadow of his lashes against his cheek. His arm lifts briefly, giving you room to move, before settling back on your waist.

“Just...” You sigh, the words heavy as you trace invisible patterns on the blanket. ​​​​“How we met.”

“Mm,” Spencer hums thoughtfully. “Dingy bus stop. Very romantic.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “No, I mean... imagine if I hadn’t woken up late that morning. Or if you’d been on the train that didn’t break down. Isn’t that scary?”

He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you fully. “What’s scary, baby?” he asks, his fingers drawing idle patterns on your hip.

You hesitate for a moment, then exhale. “Like… there’s a universe where we never met,” you say, your voice quieter now. “We’d be living our own lives. Separate. Strangers.” The words send a shudder through you. 

Spencer doesn’t answer right away, his gaze steady and thoughtful as he studies you. “That’d be a really sad life,” he says finally. 

You hum in agreement. “Imagine it. Nobody to sort your shelves for you. They’d be an absolute mess.”

“No one to bring you tea in bed every morning. Tragic.”

“No Mugi,” you add, your gaze flicking toward the end of the bed where the cat lies curled in a ball. The mention of his name earns a soft purr from him, a sound of sleepy approval.

“To be fair,” Spencer muses, “there probably would still be a Mugi. He’d just still be at the shelter, waiting for some mediocre parents to find him.”

“Yeah, probably parents who don’t spoil him rotten with treats every time he asks.”

Spencer chuckles, glancing toward the cat. “Let’s be honest, sweetheart. You’re the one who can’t say no to that face.” 

As if on cue, Mugi stretches languidly, front paws extending before he hops off the bed with a dramatic flick of his tail. He pads off into the other room, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet.

“See?” you sigh, your voice softer now. “Everything would be different. No tea. No Mugi. No you.” 

Spencer’s arm tightens around you, pulling you closer until your forehead brushes his. “But things aren’t different,” he says simply.

“I know, I know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I... I don’t know. It’s so scary Spence. I just—”

“Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again,” he interrupts, his voice calm and steady. “Know where that’s from sweetheart?” 

You pull back slightly. “The Iliad,” you murmur. 

“Smart girl,” he grins, the dimple in his cheek making an appearance. His hand brushes a stray strand of hair from your face. “It's true,” he agrees. “A lot of things could be different. You could’ve been on time for the bus. My train might not have broken down. We might’ve never crossed paths.” His hand moves from your hair to your face, cupping your cheek. “You could’ve married your high school boyfriend if that asshole hadn’t cheated on you.”

“God, don’t remind me,” you groan, wrinkling your nose.

“And I,” he continues, his voice softening, “could’ve stayed in Vegas, never left, never thought there was anything more for me.”

You look away as you imagine these horribly bleak and sad alternate realities. Sure, it was hell catching your first love in the locker room with another girl but with the certainty you feel for Spencer now, it’s hard to feel anything other than grateful for everything that led you here. You think back to Spencer as a child—alone, hurting, and relentlessly bullied. Your heart twinges with the thought of the pain he’d endured. 

“But I didn’t,” he says, breaking the silence. He takes your hand, his fingers threading through yours as if he understands exactly what you’re thinking. “I’m here. You’re here. And so is Mugi, who is probably tearing apart the couch as we speak.” 

A soft laugh escapes you, though it’s shaky, and you squeeze his hand. Your chest tightens with something that feels an awful lot like gratitude.

“You know,” he says after a pause, his voice softer now, “I thank god every day that my train broke down.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t even believe in god.”

“I don’t,” he admits with a small smile, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “But I’d pray to every god out there, in every language I don’t speak, to find you in every universe where I haven’t found you yet.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. “Spence…” you manage, though his name barely makes it past the lump in your throat. 

“I mean it,” he says again. “I pray that every version of me deserves to know you in every possible world. To have this. I’d find you, no matter how many lives it took. Because finding you was the hard part. But loving you? That’s second nature.”

Your chest aches. It’s a wonderful kind of pain, as if your heart is trying to expand but can’t quite manage it—too happy, too loved.

“I think I’d find you too,” you say softly, the words tumbling out.

“Think?” Spencer repeats, mock affront in his tone. “I pour my heart out, and all I get is a think?”

You giggle as you halfheartedly swat at his chest. “You know what I mean.”

His hand catches yours, holding it over his heart, his fingers warm against yours. Before you can say more, he leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips—deep and unhurried. It lingers, pulling you closer, tinged with love and longing. 

When you finally pull apart, your forehead resting against his, you breathe out, “I love you.”

A soft smile spreads across his face, and he whispers, “I love you too, sweet girl.”

You close your eyes, letting the moment wash over you. “I think what we have… this… it’s more than fate, y’know?”

“Destiny?”

You shake your head, a small smile on your face.

“Oh, I’ve got it. Prophecy,” he teases.

You laugh, light and easy. “No, not that either.”

He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for your explanation.

“It’s like… it’s inevitable,” you say finally, searching for the right words. “You and me. No matter what. No matter where or when. It’s just… always supposed to happen. Even if fate didn’t allow it, even if destiny didn’t write it. I’d find you. I know I would.”

Spencer’s gaze softens. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the universe—To Spencer, you might as well be. It’s a gaze so tender it makes your chest ache all over again. 

“You’re everything,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Technically, you have me to thank,” you say playfully. “I asked to share a cab.”

“And how’d you know I wouldn’t have just asked for your number?”

You catch each other's gaze for a moment and burst into laughter.

“Okay, fine,” Spencer concedes with a small smile. “I probably would’ve been a mess trying, but for the record, I really did want to ask.”

“Oh I’m sure, honey,” you tease, shifting closer to him.

“Let’s stop worrying about alternate realities and come back to this one yeah? It’s pretty damn good.”

You know Spencer’s right. For all the what-ifs and could-have-beens, the alternate paths and lives you could’ve lived, this is the reality you’re in. The one where he’s here, and so are you. You know, without a doubt now—effects, theories, strings be damned—that you would’ve found each other. 

It’s a certainty that transcends time and space, a quiet knowing that runs deep in your bones. No matter the paths you might have walked, no matter the lives you could have lived, it doesn’t matter. You share a love that demands to be seen and to be heard—An undeniable, inevitable reality. The best kind of love. 

It’s a love that insists on its own existence. 

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: invisible string by taylor swift (bc how could i not) margaret by lana del rey feat bleachers

[luckykiwiii101]

Heyhey

First of all,

Much love to you. I know you've helped a lot of people and on behalf of everyone you've helped..a big thank you!

I found something on reddit and it made everything just click in an instant. I'll put it at the end. (for some reason I can't link it) I am sending this to you in the hope that this will really help some people who feel lost.

Sidenote: I know it's basically what you and other blogs has been preaching about, but this is rephrased differently and may help some people understand and truly apply (and stop overconsuming lol)

I CANT BELIEVE IT TOOK ME ALL THIS TIME TO FINALLY GET IT…  Tips & Techniques I’ve known about the Law of Assumption for almost four years, and now I finally get it. I always thought that when I closed my eyes to imagine something, it was my false self—let’s call her Ella—doing the imagining and experiencing the desire. But that’s not true. Ella only exists in the physical realm; she’s just another object in awareness. The one who’s really imagining is awareness itself—God, consciousness—the only thing that truly exists. Now I understand why imagination is immediate and real. It’s not Ella’s creation because she has no access to awareness. Ella’s role is confined to the 3D world. Her job is to make sense of life through logic, past experiences, and sensory input. So, when I imagine something, Ella can’t “see” it because imagination operates in the realm of awareness, not the physical. This is why thoughts like “Where is it?” or “It’s not working” arise—they’re just Ella panicking because she didn’t witness the creation happen. Ella is fixated on time and the physical world, so she doubts anything beyond her perception. But her panic doesn’t mean anything because she’s not the one imagining. She’s not capable of understanding or influencing what exists in awareness. This realization leaves no excuse not to trust my imagination. Imagination is beyond Ella’s capabilities, and its reality is not dependent on her understanding. This isn’t an invitation to hate or fight Ella—it’s about recognizing her limitations and letting her be. When I notice my mind being logical or thinking doubtful thoughts, I can let them pass because that’s just Ella doing her job. There’s no need to argue with or control her because it’s like bullying a blind person for not being able to see. She simply can’t perceive what’s happening in awareness, and that’s okay. Let her do her thing, knowing it doesn’t matter. The real work is already done in imagination, which is the realm of the infinite.

Someone answered:

Yup, Ella is herself a manifestation of consciousness and there is only consciousness. We think we are Ella, when we are consciousness, perceiving things through Ella's perspective. Good job. And that's exactly why manifestation is instant, the moment awareness becomes aware of something through your imagination, it happens. Because everything is awareness. You already are living that reality from the moment you imagined it. Ella will keep thinking. You need to not react to those thoughts or feelings of Ella, observe them, take care of Ella when she feels down but laugh a little at her naivety. Most people imagine and forget that they're not Ella but consciousness and become aware of something else by giving attention to Ella's limited perspective but guess what? Ella is a well behaved child, she will learn as soon as you discipline her. Her thoughts would slowly get on board too and so will the feelings. So let Ella be, don't react to her thoughts and emotions and become aware of something that's not what you want

People need to read this!!! Thank you so much for sharing!!

[yawnderu]

A family of his own.

The thought never occurred to Simon, not when his duty has always been to his country and the queen. A clean-cut soldier through and through, an attack dog, in a way; yet you managed to break down the walls he spent years carefully crafting to protect his peace, walking into his heart as if it was your God-given right. Settling comfortably into his heart, making a home in it, invading his every thought no matter how hard he tried to kick you out of his head.

It wasn't the lack of trying that caused his situation, but rather your persistence. He could push you away as much as he'd like and you still clung to him like a barnacle, refusing to move, merging into his shell to the point his whole self was more yours than his. His heart was yours to seek shelter in, his mind empty and ready to be occupied by you, his body kept clean and healthy for your soft lips to kiss all over, his cock hard and leaking, always ready for you to ride and suck.

He was too pussy-drunk and in love to even care when you suggested to do it raw, seeing it as an honor rather than an action that would have consequences, yet how could he think clearly when your wet cunt was wrapped around him, your pretty tits bouncing up and down while you ride his hard cock? God fuckin' bless Newton.

He knows what exactly caused this— how every single time he was close, his warm hands wrapped around the curve of your waist, holding you in place while he drilled into you; making sure your orgasm hit first before he kept thrusting into that sweet spot, hips stuttering while his hot, white seed spilled into you.

And what did he learn? Absolutely nothing new. Actions have consequences, he knew that much, and he truly wasn't surprised when the sweet thing he had waiting for him at home delivered the news with a letter, pretty handwriting adorning the white paper with something that would change his entire life. Pregnant, she said.

He spent many restless nights thinking about it, but surprisingly, not a single second was put into thinking how to get out of it. No, the thought of you getting pregnant was carved into his brain since the first time you suggested doing it raw, fully aware of the consequences, yet never giving it too much thought as your warm walls wrapped around him always numbed his brain.

Pregnant, he thought, seeming fond of the idea rather than conflicted. Simon was financially stable, had his mental health under control, was too professional and damn good at what he did to ever even get himself injured, yet he found himself putting even more care at being the Ghost, never wanting to come home to you with even a scratch, and he managed for thirty-nine long weeks.

Every single time he saw you, you looked even more lovely, full belly growing even larger and rounder, a protective hand always over your own stomach. The image always melted his heart, making him fall even more in love when his warm hand was laid over your stomach, applying soft pressure until he could feel the little bugger kick away underneath his palm.

"Lovely girl s'gonna come out ready to chuck a bloody grenade." His gaze softened when he heard your laugh, his hand doing nothing other than provoking the little one to keep moving and kicking, completely enamored by the sight of his fiancée resting in his arms in bed, cuddling her up and keeping her safe from the world.

The thought of having a family never occurred Simon, yet he was so ready to welcome his little girl into the world and break the cycle once and for all.

[ccarisi]

handouts

summary: Sonny gets you an internship at the DA’s office without asking. Your reaction isn’t what he hoped for.

warnings: age gap, stepcest, smut, dubcon, spanking, facials, rough sex/hate sex, office sex, daddy kink, he makes you call him dad if that’s not ya thing, degradation, implied blackmail a lil, step!dad sonny x afab gender neutral reader, 3.1k words

a/n: two fics in one week who am i? considering this my own birthday present to all of you! everyone better amp up their perv this weekend my birthday is on MONDAY. now you know. im not a law student and never claimed to be btw, inspired by this ask

dt: @johnnydubcek and every sonny freak in the world, also lmk if anyone wants me to start a tag list or smth 🙂‍↕️

You swear that ever since Sonny found out that you want to go into defense work instead of prosecution he’s had it out for you. Something about him wanting you to follow in his footsteps, or something. To make matters worse you’re flirting with the idea of becoming a public defender.

That’s not to say that things between you were sunshine and rainbows before this, but it certainly isn’t helping.

The two of you never quite saw eye to eye. Sonny thought you’d grow out of it eventually, blaming your stubbornness and attitude on your young age. But here you are twenty some years later and your relationship is just as rocky.

You think he’s a creep if you’re being honest. His eyes are always on you from the second you walk into a room as if he’s tracking your every move. It’s not just that, either. It’s the comments.

Sonny’s always questioning you about boys and relationships, accusing you of having some sort of secret boyfriend when that’s never been the case. It’s like he’s jealous he can’t be with you himself. Not to mention the amount of times he’s been commenting lately on how you’ve, ‘really grown up’ and ‘sure look good nowadays.’

You’ve never been one to accept a handout, especially when you think you don’t deserve one. You make sure to never bring up who your stepdad is to any of your professors and you’re certainly not interested in any of his connections. That doesn’t stop him from trying, though.

When Sonny hears wind that his office is looking for a new intern he knows you’ll never agree if he asks you to apply. What choice did he have besides putting your name in the ringer on your behalf? With his pull it’s no surprise that they decided to move forward with you.

You were always a stubborn kid, never knowing what was good for you. So ungrateful, too. Sonny signs off on the paperwork for you before you ever hear about it.

“I got everythin’ approved, y’start tomorrow. N’ a ‘thank you’ would be nice, y’know.” Sonny breaks the news over dinner. God you hate these stupid dinners. Your mom’s insistent on you having dinner as a family. What kinda model family are you if you’re pretty sure that given the opportunity your own stepdad would jump your bones behind your mom’s back without a second thought?

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” You grumble as you push your food around on your plate, you lost your appetite as soon as Sonny joined the table. “I know, that’s why I did it for ya. When are you gonna learn this is the only way to get ahead?” He chastises you while he digs into his own plate as your mom ignores the growing tension.

“I wanna get ahead through my own hard work, not because my mom decided to marry you.”

Sonny laughs under his breath, you really don’t know how the real world works do you? It makes him wonder if he was ever this naive when he was your age. “It’s all about who ya know, sweetheart. ‘Hard work’ only gets ya so far.” He tells you like it's no big deal that the system’s built to favor the wealthy and connected.

“Let’s talk about something else, huh?” Your mom pipes up suddenly, stopping your bickering in its tracks.

“You’re comin’ with me tomorrow. That’s final.” Sonny ends the conversion.

+

This wasn’t at all what you had in mind when he mentioned an internship. You would think that an internship involves actual work and not being a glorified coffee runner, but unfortunately for you that’s exactly what an internship is. Oh, and it’s not paid either. He conveniently left out that part.

Being around Sonny is the worst part by far. The way he brags about you to his coworkers as if he has anything to do with your success so far. As if you don’t despise him entirely.

“This one here? Top of their class, I’m tellin’ ya.” Sonny brags to a coworker as he catches you passing by in the hallway. Wrapping his arm around you, he smiles down at you like you’re his pride and joy.

“Well, they’re learning from the best, huh? Following in their Dad’s footsteps.” His coworker chimes in.

Forcing a polite smile, you nod in agreement. You would have walked away by this point if it weren’t for how tight Sonny’s arm is wrapped around you. You pretend not to notice the way his hand brushes over your ass when he finally releases you.

With each day that passes you wait for the tides to turn. Eventually someone will have to give you a real task to do, right? You always make sure to go to Sonny’s office last for lunch orders, putting it off for as long as you can.

“Y’know, a smile would do ya good. Nobody likes a stuck up intern.” He reprimands you one afternoon.

“I smile with everyone else, not you.” You inform him as you finish writing down his order harshly.

“Is that really how you’re gonna treat your old man?” Sonny knows exactly how to push your buttons, and calling himself your dad is a surefire way to upset you.

Your reply comes like clockwork. “You’re not my real dad.”

“Heard it a thousand times before, sweetheart. Now go off an’ make ya self useful.”

Sonny makes sure to keep an eye on you when he can. He watches the way you smile and nod with everyone else, how you come across so eager to please. He knew you protesting the internship was all bullshit, you’ll take any opportunity that comes your way. And good, you should. He didn’t raise a quitter.

He can’t help but be jealous of the way you act with his coworkers. The smiles you give them that he never gets to see, how hard you’re trying to make a good impression. And not once have you thanked him for this opportunity, yet here you were soaking up every second of it. How ungrateful could you get?

By the end of the week you never want to see a cup of coffee ever again, you don’t know how you’ll ever stand to drink it yourself anymore. Sonny was working late into the evening and he was your ride. You told him you’ll find your own way home, but he was insistent that it’ll only be a little longer. That was hours ago.

Tired of organizing anything and everything you could get your hands on you make your way to Sonny’s office. “I have to talk to you.” You tell him as you stand in the middle of his office, defiant as ever.

“Alright, have at it.” Sonny tells you without looking up from his paperwork.

“Am I ever actually going to learn anything here? Or am I supposed to just get you lunch for the next four months?” Sonny scribbles away at the paper in front of him like you’re not even there. “It’s been a week, ya have to give it time.”

“So, I have to prove that I’ll be a good lawyer by how well I take your fucking coffee orders? This is a waste of my time– you know I’m overqualified for this.” You rant, and not once does Sonny look up.

“Can you at least look at me when I’m talking to you?”

With a quirk of his eyebrow Sonny puts his pen down as he looks up at you. “Everyone has to start somewhere. You think you’re special or somethin’?” He’s starting to grow tired with the way you seemingly have an issue with everything he does, even when he’s trying to help.

“It’s– it’s degrading.”

“I thought ya didn’t want any handouts.” Sonny argues but you stand firm.

“I don’t. But I’m not going to waste my time in a position that undervalues me.” He wonders where you got all that stubbornness from, not your meek and mild mother that’s for sure.

As irritating as you are, he has to admit he likes it. The spark in your eyes whenever you’re mad, the way you huff and cross your arms during every argument. It has him thinking about how badly he wants to fuck that defiance right out of you until you can’t walk straight. Now that’s a thought.

“Y’know, someone outta fix that fuckin’ attitude of yours.” Sonny’s voice is as cold as ice as he rises from his desk, eyes boring into yours.

“Excuse me?” You reply in utter disbelief. Sonny’s been stern before, sure. But not like this.

“I’m sick n’ tired of the attitude. Y’know many kids in your classes would be dyin’ for the opportunities you complain’ about? Jus’ how ungrateful are ya?” Sonny sneers at you as his brows furrow.

Your cheeks burn from embarrassment when you realize he’s legitimately angry with you. “I’m not–”

“Callin’ a fuckin’ internship degradin’. You think this is degradin’?” The thought flashes in Sonny’s mind before he can stop it. “Get over here.”

“Huh– what?” You stammer but Sonny’s never been one to repeat himself. Before you can react he’s shoving you over his desk and kicking your legs apart. “I’ll show ya what degradin’ is.” He growls in your ear as he bends you over the desk.

His hands dig into your skin as he maneuvers you roughly, he’s so much stronger than you that he moves you like a ragdoll.

“Battin’ your eyes at everyone all day n’ then comin’ in here to give me attitude. You’re nothin’ but a stupid slut aren’t ya?”

Your mind spins as you try to comprehend what was happening. “What? No, I—“ you’re cut off by Sonny roughly pulling your pants down to your ankles while your heart pounds out of your chest. He can’t do this. He wouldn’t, right? Was there a part of you that wants him to?

You never find your answer before you feel the warmth of Sonny’s large hand rest on your ass before digging his fingers into your soft supple flesh. “Tired of how ungrateful you’ve been actin’. I’ve given you everythin’ haven’t I?”

You’re met with a shooting pain as Sonny’s hand sharply smacks your ass, making your whole body jolt. “Answer me, sweetheart.” Suddenly the pet name feels laced with venom.

“Y-You have— I’m sorry.” Your voice gets caught in your throat.

“Sorry, what?” Sonny asks as his hand meets your ass again. “I don’t know—“ you whine in pain as you hang your head, only for Sonny to pull you back sharply by the hair.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” He corrects you. “Say it.”

With a shaky breath you oblige, “I-I’m sorry… Daddy.” The word feels foreign rolling off of your tongue. Sonny roughly turns your head towards him to press his lips against yours, giving you little to no time to react before shoving his tongue in your mouth. It’s messy and rough and you hate that you can feel how wet you’re getting from him treating you like this.

As much as Sonny would love to take his time with you, considering how long he’s been waiting to get you like this, he’s well aware of the time crunch that comes with fucking you in his office. You hear his belt hit the floor followed by a zipper and you swallow harshly. He was really doing this.

“All I’ve ever wanted was the best for ya, n’ there’s never even a damn thank you.” You gasp as the blunt head of Sonny’s cock notches your throbbing hole. “Ya damn mother never taught ya manners, huh? Guess it’s up to me, then.”

Sonny groans as he pushes himself further inside your tight little hole. Your body tenses at the sudden intrusion as you feel every ridge of his cock slide against your walls. “Wait–” you choke out, “Y–You have to slow down.”

Sonny ignores your pleas as you grip onto the edge of his desk in pain and the only thing you can think about is the burning sensation of his cock stretching you out. “Ohh fuck– so fuckin’ tight, baby. Jesus.”

With a deep groan Sonny nestles himself inside you and you can feel the rough fabric of his pants press against your bare thighs. His fingers grip your hips tightly and much to your surprise he gives you a second to adjust.

“Oh I know, it’s big huh?” Sonny mocks you as your chest heaves. “Should’a thought about that before actin’ so damn selfish, then maybe ya wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.” Lie. He knew he’d end up buried inside you one way or another.

“Gonna teach ya some manners, okay? Wanna hear you thankin’ me for everythin’ I’ve done for ya all these years.”

Your mouth falls open at the first experimental thrust of his hips as you nod, what choice did you have but to agree? You watch as the picture frames on his desk threaten to fall over by the force of his thrusts, and you realize you can faintly make out an old picture of you and him off to the side of his desk.

You find yourself staring at it as his cock drills into you over and over again, your own smiling face looking back at you.

Snapping you out of your trance Sonny harshly tugs your head back, growling in your ear. “I wanna hear ya say it. Say ‘thank you, Dad.’” Your eyes flutter close from a particularly harsh thrust as he pulls your hips against him.

“T–thank you, Dad.” Shame mixed with the faintest hint of arousal washes over you as the words leave your mouth.

“Thank you for what? Gotta be more specific than that if ya wanna make it up t’me.” Sonny’s hips slam against yours and with every thrust you cry out exactly what he wants to hear.

“Thank you for taking care of me…” you sob as the desk shakes, the framed picture of you now shattered on the ground. “Thank you for getting me the internship, thank you for–for helping me.”

The room fills with the lewd sound of Sonny’s grunts mixed with the wet sound of his cock pounding into you relentlessly. Lucky for you both he’s pretty sure you’re the only two left at this hour. “What are ya thankful for right now? Thankful for Daddy makin’ ya feel good?”

It’s hard to think straight with how rough he’s fucking you. A high-pitched whine escapes you when he hits that special spot deep inside you and you swear you can feel him in your throat.

“T–thank you–” you pant as the head of his cock kisses your cervix repeatedly. “Thank you for making me feel good…Thank you for…for fucking me.” You cry out in shame.

“This is what ya needed, huh? Jus’ needed Dad’s cock to remind ya how to behave?” Sonny teases you as his hand slips underneath you to rub your clit, determined to watch you fall apart knowing it’s because of him. You nod as your knees buckle from the feeling, so fucked out you don’t even know what you’re agreeing with.

It doesn’t take much to get you to cum, after just a minute or two of Sonny’s long thick fingers rubbing your clit you’re a goner. Collapsing against his desk your walls pulse around his cock, body tensing as his hand clamps over your mouth. You moan harshly into his hand as your eyes close tight, your whole body going limp as your orgasm shatters through you.

“That’s it sweetheart, fuckin’ cum all over Daddy’s cock. Bein’ such a good little whore–” Sonny moans as he chases his own release. His hips slam against you as you wince with every thrust. Breathing labored and uneven, Sonny furiously pounds into your poor abused hole as you clench down on him.

“Fuck– fuck, baby, take all of it–” Sonny hisses through gritted teeth, sweat dripping down his forehead. It’s been awhile since he’s had a fuck like this, if ever. He never thought he’d get to have you like this, sobbing over his cock and not those boys you waste your time with.

“Shoulda done this a long time ago, maybe that woulda fixed that fuckin’ attitude of yours.”

Without warning Sonny quickly pulls out of you completely as you cry from the sudden emptiness. “Fuckin– c’mere,” he tells you sharply as he turns you around before roughly shoving you down on your knees in front of him.

“Once ya prove to me you’re not such an ungrateful whore maybe I’ll think about cummin’ inside ya.”

You watch as he furiously pumps his cock, fist slapping against his belly as he works himself over. Your eyes are transfixed on the way his brows furrow as he pants heavily as he gets closer and closer.

Sonny stares down at your face, those pretty glazed over eyes of yours wide in bewilderment. Those lips that do nothing but talk back to him. He wonders how pretty they’ll look wrapped around his cock next time.

The thought alone is enough to have Sonny hurtling over the edge. “Fuck– there it is, Sit there n’ take it, don’t ya dare fuckin’ move.” Sonny groans before shooting ropes of his hot sticky cum all over you and paints your face in his cum.

“Ohh, that’s fuckin’ good–” he hisses as he milks every drop of his cum onto your lips.

You stay still like you’re told, eyes closing in discomfort as you feel the stickiness coat your face. You never notice Sonny taking his phone out to snap a picture of you.

Tilting your chin up to look at him, he swipes some cum on his thumb, pushing it into your mouth to give you a taste. Your frown from the salty and musky taste, you don’t think you like it much.

“Jesus– look at ya. Don’t think you’ve looked prettier, baby.” Sonny teases as your cheeks turn red. “Did ya learn ya lesson?” Sonny asks seriously as he tightly grips your jaw in his hand.

“Y-yes, Dad. I won’t be ungrateful anymore. Promise.” You tell him earnestly and Sonny nods in approval. “N’ ya won’t tell your mother about this either, got it?”

Pleased with your nod of agreement Sonny tosses you a handkerchief from his pocket, leaving you to clean yourself up and find the rest of your clothes. You wince from the pain between your legs as you all but collapse on the leather couch in his office.

Returning to his desk to finish up his work he pays you no mind, like you’re not even there anymore. The truth is, he’s already planning what he wants to do to you next.