#and he says no that's what the 15¢ was for

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | 15

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

Rafe always struggled with noise.

It was always too much or too little. But silence at Tannyhill was something he had grown accustomed to: the steady hum of the air conditioner wavering between seasons, the chirps of cicadas outside his balcony, and the soft waves crashing on his beachfront estate. These noises are familiar to him, setting his routine for the day.

Not Sarah.

It's unfair to say Sarah is an anomaly. He grown up with her his entire life, and her being in the house wasn't an uncommon sound. However, after she ditched the family to go slumming it with the Pogues, there was a lightness in the air from her absence. With Wheezie being off at academy, Rose and Ward often traveling for work, Rafe gotten used to being alone.

Now, the droning silence is met with a muffled pop music blasting from Sarah's bedroom. Given that her room sits adjacent to his, it forces Rafe to hear every screeching lyric, every grating beat, and every obnoxious sound, reminding him of his sister's existence.

Solitude is something he wishes he could return to.

"Can you turn it down over there?" Rafe pounds on the shared wall, but the volume doesn't lower. In fact, if he's imagining it or the anger bubbling beneath the surface is giving him more clarifying senses, it gets louder. With gritted teeth, Rafe shakes off the nuisance and returns to his task.

Her presence agitated him. It's one thing for her to come home and disrupt his routine, it's another when her return jeopardize his future. As much as he likes to pretend it doesn't—and not think about it—he knows it does.

For the longest time, they fought for their father's affection, especially after their mother left. Sarah had always received it, and Rafe had to always fight to stay in the limelight. But it isn't true to say he hates her. There were times where Rafe considered himself closest to Sarah. She was the one who shared his childhood, separated by a measly three-year age gap, and she was the one who remembered their mother. They have sibling spats, but it never pushed to the level it is now.

Now, it's as if they can't seem to stand each other's existence. To Rafe, she's a reminder of all the bitter favoritism their father offered her. To Sarah, Rafe is the [reminder] of someone who can't seem to move on.

Once Rafe packed, he steps out of his bedroom—only to collide with Sarah.

"Watch it, Rafe," she snaps, holding a ceramic bowl in one hand, while collecting her wet hair in the other. Her eyes narrowed with disdain, before she turns her heel and head to the stairwell.

His jaw ticks.

Rafe hates how easy it was for her to come home. To be accepted. When Rafe was kicked out of the house, he had to beg his father to grant his return. And that was just for an addiction. Imagine how much worse it could've been had Rafe skipped off and abandoned his family for a fleeting puppy romance.

It just wasn't fair.

Finally, he snaps. "What are you doing here, Sarah?"

She halts at the top of the stairs, twisting her head at the accusation. Rafe uses this opportunity to approach her. "Why are you back home?"

Ever since she returned, he hadn't had a proper conversation with Sarah. Not that he wanted to. He's been so preoccupied with you and everything going on with Aaron, he hadn't bothered interrogating the origin of his sister's sudden homecoming. Now, it's as if he can't stop.

Sarah twists her delicate features. "Last I'd checked, this was my house too."

"It was your house," Rafe corrects. "Before you abandoned it for that little Pogue boyfriend of yours. What happened? Couldn't cut roughing it?"

She huffs, tightening her jaw and glances away. "Dad said I can move back in,"

"Dad says anything to give his little princess what she wants,"

"What's your deal, Rafe?" She demands, nostrils flaring at his abrupt attack. "Are you that mad I'm coming home?"

She made him sound unreasonable. He wasn't. "Was it home when you ran away to fuck your little boyfriend? Was it home when Dad and Rose tried to contact you, only to receive radio silence? Was it home when you left our little sister?"

"It's as if you give two shits about Wheezie,"

"Of course I give a shit about her," he growls, unable to keep the emotions from his voice, "She's my family. And frankly, she was the only family I had when you left."

At the end of the day, it wasn't just the rivalry that got to him. It was the fact that he was abandoned. It was the fact that he found satisfaction in his placement of their Kildare society, and he had his sisters with him—only for one to skip off and choose to live on the rough side of town. That being with them was easier than being with him.

All he asks is loyalty.

His chest heaves by the end of his sentence, but there's a lightness to his heart. He hadn't realize how much he needed to get that off. He needed to say his piece. Hands bundled into fists by his side, a sudden draw of blood tastes on his tongue.

Silence eclipses their argument, saved for the choking sputters of the air conditioner, before Sarah answers calmly. "John B and I broke up."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Sarah says solemnly, all lost of her previous energy, and she looks down. "Guess that makes you feel better, huh?"

"I didn't say that."

"You might as well have," Sarah declares, as if she could read his heart. "Me failing. Me losing my relationship. Everything in my life going to shit—I bet you're satisfied."

That isn't true. There's not even any resemblance of satisfaction curling in his chest, but a bleeding ache of hurt. Did Sarah really, truly, thinks so lowly of him?

It makes him defensive. "If this was the attitude you had with John B, it's no wonder he dumped you."

Sarah scoffs, "here it is."

"Am I wrong?" Rafe snaps, charged with misplaced hurt. "And now you get to come back like nothing has changed, and sneak your way into the family business as if you had any fucking right to it."

Sarah stares at him, jaw slackens, before realization dawns on her. "Is that what this is about?" She begins. "You're pissed because Dad asked me for help?"

"You never wanted it," he says lowly, but he can't seem to say the other part. That if his dad could pick between them to run his legacy, it would be her. But he is the one who wants it.

"Dad asked me," Sarah emphasizes, trying to get Rafe to understand.

"You could've said no."

"How could I?" She demands. "I have no place—I left for God's sake, and now I'm crawling back with my tail between my legs and Dad asked me to help with one case. How could I say no to that?"

It's so easy for her. Rafe took time, energy and effort to get enough approval from their father to give consultations. Sarah got it as a placement test to prove herself. She's going to ruin it, he thought bitterly, and he knows he should feel sympathy for all the shit she's been through, but all of it dissipates in the waste of his anger.

It's his birthright; he deserves it.

Rafe suddenly says. "You should go."

"Go where, Rafe?" She orders, "and for what? So you can live here with that little girlfriend of yours? It's not like you're going to last anyways."

Rafe is struck by Sarah bringing you into the conversation.

"You don't know what you're talking about,"

"She's a Pogue," Sarah emphasizes mockingly, in the same tone that Rafe used. He hates that too. "Why do you think John B and I broke up?"

"Because he couldn't stand your attitude of yours?"

Sarah scoffs, shoulders unwinding. "No, because he had other things he cared about more than me."

"She's not like that."

"You can't honestly believe that," Sarah says with a demeaning scoff, "They're all like that. It's in their blood. John B wanted something more and he put me behind. She's going to do the same to you."

He doesn't believe that. He refuses to. "Maybe you got the wrong end of the stick."

"Maybe you're blinded by love," she retorts easily, without missing a beat. "Do you honestly believe she had no ulterior motives with you? What did she even see in you in the first place?"

Rafe wanted to argue in your defense that you didn't see him as some cash cow. But he realizes he can't. Because there was an another motive for the beginning of your relationship—your bar. Albeit fake, it's all the same.

He doesn't know if it still stands.

"She's not like that," he repeats, but his voice is weaker in conviction. Sarah merely shrugs.

"Whatever you say," she says, taking a step down the stairwell. "You'll see."

—

After his fight with Sarah—which Rafe isn't even sure he won—he heads over to your bar. He knows he should be able to process his feelings without seeking an emotional clutch, but there's an unbeatable calamity that comes from being in your presence.

Upon entry, the little bell chimes, and you lift your head to greet the customer, only for a wide smile to spread across your face. He steps in to meet you halfway at the counter.

"Hi," you greet softly, reaching out to stroke his shoulder, and all tension in his muscles unwinds.

"Hey," he leans down to kiss your lips, his hand finding the small of your back. "Ready to go?"

You shake your head. "Can't. I have to stay until the last customer leaves."

Rafe glances around the bar. While mostly vacant, it hosts a couple of lingering patrons who are drinking and watching the channel on the television—no sense of urgency behind their necessary leave.

He turns back to you, "You're the boss."

"Yes, and the boss says no," you say with a playful grin.

Rafe's mind is whirling with thoughts. He just wants to have you alone, and contemplating a solution, his mouth lowers to the shell of your ear to ask, "How would you react if I kicked everyone out?"

"Mad?" You offer.

He groans. "Thought so."

You laugh, and the sweet sound grounds him. It's the same laugh as before; the melodic, light, and airy sound, filled with spirit and soul. It's the same sound he heard in your bar that day; now, in the same place, at a different time. He hadn't realized then how much he was going to love it.

"What's wrong?" You question. "Do you want to go home that bad?"

He shakes his head. "It's not that," he murmurs, his hand sliding up your low-cut work shirt, grabbing the hems to pull it down. "I just want to be alone with you."

"You always want to be alone with me,"

"I want you." He declares definitively, so full of totality that it sends a buzz of warmth straight to your heart. You grin, steeping on your tiptoes to give him another kiss.

This time, he savors it—grabbing the back of your neck to hold you in place as he laps over your bottom lip, tasting you on his tongue until it's swollen. When you reluctantly pull away, needing to get back to work, your hand trails down to grab his. "Wanna help me serve?"

"I only know how to be served," he answers.

"Kinky?"

Rafe smirks. "Let's go to the backroom and find out."

You laugh again, pulling him behind the counter. You hand him the first glass and instruct him to behave because he had a tendency to grab your ass, pull you in posessively between serving customers, and surprise you with kisses.

Despite this, Rafe follows your orders. While he pretends not to care, he secretly loves the enthusiasm behind each demand. The sharp wit you show while bossing him around reminds him why he's attracted to you in the first place.

After recruiting Rafe as your second-in-command, the job becomes much easier. You don't know if it's the second set of hands, or because every customer who asks for a refill is met with a piercing glare that silently warns them to leave, but you end up going home earlier than expected.

By the time you arrive at the house, your sisters lift their sleepy gazes off the television, jump off their seats, and come running—tackling you and Rafe into a hug.

He didn't even have the time to set his duffel bag down before Amara nearly knocked him off his feet, clutching his legs like lifelines while she recounted her day at hourly intervals. However, he merely chuckles at the sight, running his hand through the mess of her hair, while giving his utmost attention. He even asked for follow-up questions about her day, which led to a minute-by-minute breakdown.

You watch with tenderness, recognizing Rafe's presence in your home. He has changed the very fabric of your family. Usually, getting your sisters ready for bed takes ages, filled with bemoaned complaints about wanting to stay up past bedtime, but now, they're nearly obedient.

Sitting on the couch, while your sisters are crisscrossed on the floor, you brush your sister's hair and braid them; Rafe does the same. He's steadily detangling Amara's hair, afraid to hurt her sensitive head, while she rattles on about nonsensical things. Despite struggling for the first couple of times with braiding, and reducing them to a magic happenstance that appears out of thin air, Rafe slowly learns the tool of the trade, perfecting it to Amara's liking.

When you finally send them off to bed, you and Rafe return to the couch. Your head leaned against the backseat, releasing a slow sigh, before turning to face Rafe. Both of you made the same move, at the same time, and it caused a smile to light your expression.

"Tired?" He proposes gently.

You shake your head. Truthfully, you are. It's been a long shift, on top of a long week, but being in the presence of your boyfriend melts away all the exhaustion. You just want a few more moments, alone, with him.

Making the bold choice, you climb onto his lap. With your knees on either side of his hips, your arms looped around his neck, and your chin tilted slightly downward to meet his gaze.

Rafe tilts his head slightly to the side, amusement fliting his features. "Hi, pretty girl."

"Hi," you say timidly, heart lunging out of your chest, and desire pools in your stomach. Rafe watches you for a few seconds as your mind fills with choices, but all of them are silenced when you lower yourself to kiss him.

At first, it surprises Rafe. He assumed you didn't have the energy to start anything, after the long hours, but with you deliciously placed on his lap like his own personal meal, he couldn't help the pang of need stirring within. His hands find your waist, drawing you close, while his fingers splayed across your rode-up top, grazing your bra.

Pulling away, just slightly for air, his mouth hovers over yours to ask, "What's this for?"

"I miss you," you mumble a breathy answer, before recapturing his lips. This time, he has no objective. His hands slide under your bra, gliding across your heated skin and raising goosebumps in its wake.

For the next few minutes, it was just a lazy makeout with quiet groans and moans. Your core rocks gently over his lap, coming into contact with his growing erection, until it becomes impossible to ignore. Your lips pull to a teasing smile, and Rafe catches it, "Know how I feel about you now?" He asks hotly against your swollen lips.

"You're so obsessed with me," you declare.

"I am."

You grind against him, finding the right spot that allows your panties to graze his hardened cock underneath his jeans. Rafe groans into your mouth, the low sound sending a shiver down your spine, while timid flutters of pleasure curl in your stomach.

"I need you," you murmur against his lips, kissing down his jaw to the column of his neck. When your hands find the button of his jeans, you lift your innocent gaze to ask, "Can I blow you?"

This fucking girl.

Wordlessly lifting his hips, you remove his pants and briefs until his cock springs free. Half of you want to push your panties to the side and sink on his length, but the other half wants to edge yourself. Sliding to the floor, with your knees scraping the carpet, your hands timidly wrap around his girth.

"Fuck," he groans lowly, tipping his head back when you dribble spit on his tip and rub his cock, the grip of your soft hands feels good, but not enough. "Baby, put your mouth on it."

"Say please," you tease.

"Please," he begs, and satisfaction reverberates through you as a hand drops, and his cock enters your mouth, your tongue lapping over the crown. With the other hand wrapped around the base, pumping him, you slide down his length until he touches the back of your throat.

Rafe lets out a guttural groan.

His hands slide through your hair as he pushes you deeper, and you gag, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure up his spine.

His words come out choked and unsteady as you quicken up the pace; pumping and sucking him off. You hollow your cheeks to produce suction and rub him with your spit until his cock twitches in your mouth.

"Fuck," he moans again, hips lifting off the seat as your free hand presses down his thigh. You go faster, and faster until spurts of hot cum hits the base of your throat and Rafe finishes inside your mouth.

He grabs your arm and hauls you to his lap, greeting you with a well-deserved kiss. When he pulls away, forehead resting against yours, breathing heavily, he whispers, "I wanna be inside of you."

You trailing your thumb down his jaw. "Will you beg for it?"

"Sweetheart," he warns.

"That's not a very nice tone," you tease, pulling away as punishment, but Rafe grips your arm tighter. Quickly standing, Rafe lifts you up and off his lap, your legs wrap around his torso as he carries you off.

Rafe enters your bedroom and locks the newly-fixed door. Everything else moves within a blur—Rafe pulling off the remainder of his clothes before removing yours. Your giggles echo the chambers as you run away from him, only for Rafe to easily snatch you by the waist and throw you onto the bed.

Your back hits the sheets as you land with a thump, and laughter escapes. Rafe's warm body covers yours as his hot mouth attacks you with kisses, nibbling on your bottom lip, pulling the plush between his teeth as a sensual penalty.

His hands slowly descend between your parted thighs, finding your slick core waiting for him.

"You're so wet for me," he murmurs against your swollen lips. "Does sucking me off turn you on?"

You nod eagerly, putting his mouth back on yours before his fingers spread your wet folds. You whimper, clenching around nothing, as he skillfully strokes your pussy, teasing your swollen nub, but not quite satisfying you. "Rafe."

"Yes, baby?"

"Inside," you command, but your voice wavers from the sparks of pleasure he's eliciting.

"Inside," he mocks, "inside where?"

Your core clenches around nothingness. His cockiness mixed with his strokes causes your mind to short-circuit. "Rafe, please," you beg because that's all you seem to be able to say.

"Say it again," he orders, rolling your clit between his thumb and pointer finger. Your hips lift to chase the feeling, only for him to push it down firmly. "Ask me politely."

"Baby," you whimper, capturing the nape of his neck and dragging his mouth back to yours, "please fuck me."

Rafe grins, before removing his hand. The emptiness of his touch leaves much to be desired before you feel the tip of his cock grazing your slick, and he sinks into you, inch by inch.

You gasp at the intrusion before the familiar buzz of pleasure warms your stomach and Rafe begins to rock his hips.

"You feel so fucking perfect," Rafe says through gritted teeth. Stealing your breath away with each thrust, the way his cock presses right against your cervix, the way your walls flutter around him as he quickens his pace. Rafe pushes your legs onto his shoulders and kisses one of your ankles as he fucks you.

"Go faster," you order, nails digging into your sheets. Rafe grins, fastening his thrusts as he watches the way his cock enters and leaves your pussy—over and over again, the way you swallow him whole. Slowly, the build of your release coils inside.

Moans and whimpers leave your lips, each sound becoming more desperate, and incessant, and needy until you're tipped over the edge and come crashing down.

Rafe hasn't come, and plowing into your overstimulation, he fucks you until he releases himself, finishing inside of you.

When Rafe pulls out, he collapses into the space beside you, breathing heavily. In the clarity of post-sex, his mind returns to the one place he wishes it doesn't.

Despite everything, despite being with you, Rafe still has Sarah's words in the back of his mind. He doesn't want to, and he has faith in you, but something about his sister's words is everlasting and terrifying. It has him locked in thought, and it appears on his face, because when you turn your head to look at him, you ask, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answers quickly.

"Rafe..."

"It's fine," he declares. "Nothing important, I swear."

By the look on his face, you know that's not true, but Rafe has always been the type of person who doesn't talk unless they're ready, and you don't want to push further onto the subject.

"Okay," you agree, switching gears. "Then, I have some news."

Rafe tilts his head, especially after hearing the bubbling of excitement contained in your voice. "Yeah?" He asks, turning his body towards you, and pulling you into his arms. "What is it?"

Grinning, you announce, "I got a catering gig."

Your joy is contagious, and he mirrors it with a soft smile. "Really? For who?"

"Sarah."

All of the air in Rafe's lungs goes stale. His shoulders become rigid, and the daze from the sex disappears. Sobriety covers his features, but you're too excited about the announcement to catch the subtle shift.

"What?" Rafe's astonishment is light, almost undetectable, and it works. You don't catch it—neither his tone nor the fall of his expression. Your happiness bleeds into ignorance, and you gloss over the details.

"Yeah. Your dad asked me to cater for her birthday coming up," you explain. "I was contemplating saying no, but the gig pays really well, and since a lot of Kooks attend these parties, I had to agree."

The thing about Camerons' birthday extravaganzas is that they're not an exclusive event; it's a parade. Especially with the return of Ward Cameron's golden child, Rafe isn't surprised that his father pushed for a big celebration. However, dread suddenly fills his veins at the thought that this could mean something more.

Not just the fact that it was Ward soliciting your service, but the fact that Sarah had agreed to it. This has to be some kind of power move; a play for her to demonstrate that she holds more control over Rafe than he wants her to.

You continue to talk about your plans, specifically what drinks you'll be serving and what menu you'll have. But Rafe stopped listening. His mind is elsewhere, his thoughts eluding him, and amid a rambling that he isn't registering, he suddenly interrupts you to say, "Don't take it."

You blink in surprise. Your brows pull together in confusion, and when you finally turn to Rafe, all sense of amusement is gone. "Why?"

He couldn't tell you. He couldn't explain that the reason was because of him. It's selfish, but he needs it. If you take it, it means you're proving her right, and him wrong. It means that if she's right about this thing, she must be right about the others too.

He doesn't want to put you in this position, but he needs to know your loyalty.

"Just don't take it."

Now, you're more confused. You pull away slightly from his grip to evaluate his face, trying to figure out if this is some sort of joke. But Rafe doesn't deliver a gotcha! His expression is stern, and his request is absolute. Is he really asking you to forgo one of the biggest gigs of your life?

"Why?"

He shakes his head. "I'll pay you."

Flabbergasted, you say. "What?"

"I'll pay you double what they're paying you—just don't take it."

Your mouth drops to an unsteady frown. "That's not the point."

He doesn't know how to argue. He wants to be happy for you, but he can't. It's Sarah. It's his sister. He believes this is some ulterior motive to break you two apart. "Just... Just don't take it. Please."

"Why?" You ask again, pressingly, and agitation ticks at his jaw.

"Can't you just listen to me?" He snaps. "Don't take it."

This time, you withdraw. It isn't the aggression that frightens you, you've seen those sides of Rafe before. But this time, it's different. This time, it feels more tormented and frantic. Off.

You don't answer, recognizing this atmosphere as too tense. You don't want to get into a fight, and you don't know what to say that'll satisfy him. "I'm..." You begin, unsure of where the sentence is heading. You glance at the door. "I'm going to take a shower."

You get up from bed and grab some clothes before heading into your ensuite bathroom, locking the door with a soft click. Rafe remains in your room, unmoved. When the sound of water runs, he sighs heavily, glancing around the space, at the door, but nothing helps.

Fear creeps over him like a second skin. Daunting, present, and perpetual. You didn't give him an answer, and honestly, he doesn't know if you will.

But he knows one thing.

Sarah's right.

And if Sarah's right, then that can only lead to one conclusion.

He's going to lose you.

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Navigation — Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16

[revelboo]

Would Thundercracker's human friend from Better Open the Door ever be able to convince TC to let them go home? (Their actual home lmao)

Or would he just plain refuse to see reason forever?

Like, he seems reasonable enough, if a bit... Clingy. And lonely. And sad.

I mean, I'd gladly be his friend, and talk about movies with him. But being kept in his room like a glorified pet is a bit much.

He would when the guilt kicks in hard enough, wanting to prove he cares and listens, even if he hates it. That said, he’s absolutely going to spend every free minute he has stalking you from above in his alt mode to keep you safe.

Better Open The Door Pt 15

Thundercracker x Reader

• Drowsing sprawled on him, it’s strange to feel so comfortable. One of his hands on the small of your back and the other on your butt. Resting your chin on him you study that handsome, alien face that’s become so familiar to you. Knowing you’re falling for him despite still being unhappy with him and you’re tempted to ruin it all. Trying to gather up the nerve to ask again, because if he really cares about you, he has to understand he has to let you go eventually.

• Optics brightening when he feels you move on him, he tucks his chin to see you. And you look so lovely sprawled on him, servos flexing on you when you yawn. “Sleep okay?” He asks and you lay your cheek back down against him. This moment. He wants to keep it forever. The way you look waking up in his arms, hair messy and eyes sleepy. “I’m probably not a very comfortable bed, am I?”

• “You’re warm.” Painfully aware of your own nakedness when the servos of one hand slides up your spine and his other hand gently flexes on your butt. And there’s his spike hardening against your hip. “Already? It’s hard to have a conversation when you do that,” you protest. And he smiles crookedly at you, expression almost boyish and not at all ashamed.

• “You have that effect on me,” he admits, cupping your chin and tipping it up. Venting when you lean up on him, mouth brushing his in a much too brief kiss. “Not so fast.” Servos threading through your hair to cup the back of your head, he tugs you back to him, mouth lazily exploring yours.

• Laughing as you break away and his servos lazily comb through your hair, you push up to straddle him and his servos skim up your body and then back down to rest on your hips. Remembering his words from the night before. That he’d said he loved you when he barely knows you. Even if the way he looks up at you is almost worshipful. “Can we talk?” Does he even really understand what love is or is he just fascinated with those love stories he watches?

• Servos wandering to cup soft skin, he rumbles at you. Do you think you really need to ask? That there’s anything he wouldn’t do for you? “Of course.” Servos stroking over you, he wonders if he can bond you. What it would be like to feel you tangled in his spark, touching him intimately. Why are you frowning at him? “Is something wrong?”

• “No, it’s just- It’s nothing,” you say, one of your hands covering his as it wanders and squeezes. And he’s frowning at you now, reaching up to tap a servo against your bottom lip. Waiting expectantly and you cringe. “You know you can’t just keep me here forever. Right? I have family and they must be worried.”

• Expression closing off, he catches your wrist when you start to pull away. Upset with him. Hasn’t he taken care of you? Protected you? “You’re not a prisoner,” he says, voice flat. Empty as his spark constricts. Was it only fragging to you? Nothing more? “I just want you to be happy. Safe.” And if you don’t want him, he’ll let you go. He’ll watch over you even if you don’t want him. Set you free and protect you from a distance as it kills him. You’re everything to him. “Is that what you want? To leave?” If so, he’ll stay as close as he can, let you have your freedom while you can, because as soon as the war starts up again, he’ll bring you back home to him no matter what you want. Can’t lose you.

Previous

Probably a good idea to add a warning to the first chapters of it and TFA Blitzwing’s fic

[thegreatstoryteller]

The Great Shift: Awkward Tales - Vignette 1: The Nervous Flirt

When the Great Shift hit the world, everyone was thrown into chaos. However, eventually society resettled into a new and more accepting form. At some point everyone would have to get used to their new bodies… right?

Well for a few individuals out there, after the great shift, they still were… adjusting. No matter how much time happened, some were cursed with an awkward new perspective in life. 

Maxwell, was nervous. More nervous than usual! Before the great shift, he had recently come out as gay to his close friends and family! While, they were all super accepting and happy for him, that didn’t solve his issues… talking to people he liked! No matter how many times he tried, he would turn into a stuttering mess whenever a hot guy was in the vicinity. He was lucky enough that his small unassuming frame meant no one could see his failures.

When the great shift happened, he thought things might be different.  New body! New me! That was the mantra he’d heard many people say as he had browsed forums and self help spaces. Turns out many people just needed a new body to reorient their social skills and  come out of their shell! At first Maxwell thought he’d be one of them!

He knew that he was a lot stronger in this body. He still wore his glasses, but these arms were no joke. Plus he didn’t have any skin issues anymore and he finally had some decent facial hair to work with! It all seemed to add up to something of a turning point for his life. 

That wasn’t the case.

Turns out a new body came with the same issues PLUS a few new ones too. Maxwell couldn’t form a straight sentence around hot guys, even newly hot guys who had never been hit on before! Even if Maxwell was just as handsome and good looking, his words fell apart at the slightest bit of attraction. Not only that, but his pool of attraction doubled. Apparently the guy he’d become was bisexual and loved flirting with men and women! So now not only did hot men make his speech a mess, but beautiful ladies did as well! A single hot woman could ruin his night if she asked for directions! A studly man asking if he wanted a drink would have him run out of the bar! No matter what seemed to happen, Maxwell was still an awkward dork.

Going from 5’5 to 6’2 didn’t help either. Now everyone could see this towering confident stud look like a complete fool! And his quick escapes were a thing of the past since every time he tried to run away he’d trip over his large size 15 feet. The last time he tried to flee from a failed flirt he knocked over two waiters and spilled 3 drinks over the person he was talking to. He needed some help. 

His friends did their best to console him, but even they had difficulty finding a clear solution. 

“Come on dude, you’ve got to stop biting your nails!” Beth, his best friend since college said after another night of failed flirting.

“I’m sorry Beth!” Maxwell whined in his new voice. Previously that expression was met with more nasally tones, but now even his wines made such flirtatious sounds when it came out of his new deep voice. “I just can’t stop thinking about that couple that asked if I wanted to join them tonight. The guy was soooo hot! He was like some kind of bodybuilder! And the girl! She could’ve been a super model. And i just froze and ran away!”

“It’s ok. I know that you want to pursue a relationship post shift. There’s no shame in striking out. Lots of people are having a hard time finding love.” Beth chimed in trying to comfort her friend.

“Easy for you to say. You and your fiance got Chris Evans and Chris Hemsworth’s bodies! And you’re still together!” Maxwell complained, burying his head in his pillow, still shirtless and showing off his impressive arms.

“I… I admit. We did get lucky. I know all our friends love Marvel, and my fiance and I are mega nerds… and the role play in the bedroom is fun and-”

“Beth!”

“Sorry! I just mean, that nothing is hopeless.  You’ll find what you’re looking for soon. And hey, if it helps you can try flirting with me and Erin tonight.” Beth offered.

Maxwell blushed… and then slowly nodded. Maybe flirting with two of his biggest celebrity crushes would solve his issue after all.

[alienssstufff]

Last Life Apocalypse AU [PROLOGUE 3/3]

EULOGY (23/10/NULL):

Surveillance footage of the Eremita Local Cemetery on the 23rd of October (Year: NULL). The following is a transcript of several discrepancies timestamps 00:18:15, 0:24:09, 06:24:15 extracted from Camera 3 and has been archived upon cease of investigation.

PROLOGUE: [PART 0] [PART 1 - lineup] [PART 2] [PART 3]

>[READ ARTICLE?]

00:18:15 , 23/10/NULL:

[SOUNDS OF A CAR ENGINE, MODEL UNSEEN]

[FOOTSTEPS ON PAVEMENT]

A singular flashlight hits the surveillance wall held by a shadow out of camera shot.

[FOOTSTEPS ON GRASS]

[SOUNDS OF PAPER RUSTLING]

GRIAN: (muttering) [UNTRANSLATABLE] GRIAN: You know how busy my schedule is to not show up to the service. GRIAN: -and I know you’re not actually there – None of you are. GRIAN: But I promised Timmy to visit you. GRIAN: He’s in the car right now- probably bawling his eyes out worried sick about the both of you. It took a lot to convince him and Lizzie to let you do this and even more to keep your cases open I– GRIAN: I shouldn’t be mad, I shouldn’t be – but I am. I’ve ‘ad a long hard think the month since you left and I’m actually furious.  GRIAN: Scar, I know I’m not the most open of the two of us -you’re aware of my situation just as I am of yours. And as your friend, I've been respecting your personal space… But if it’s gotten this serious I really wish you could’ve told me… Told anyone! GRIAN: Does Cub know?... Does Bdubs know?? Or have they been lying to me too.

[PAUSE]

GRIAN: The LNC have been looking after the office since your disappearances went public. GRIAN: -Not sure what they’re doing with that I don’t go. Not a part of that. GRIAN: No one can find any of your wills if you wrote them. GRIAN: (laughs) like I doubt it. I don’t even need to check your room to know it’s in utter shambles in there. That’s your responsibility. GRIAN: (pause).... That's your responsibility when you get home. I’m done.

00:24:09 , 23/10/NULL:

GRIAN: I really don’t know what else there is to say to any of you. Joel I’ve left my condolences with Lizzie, if you want to hear what I have to say tell it to her. She’s the real person the two of you should be apologizing to. GRIAN: I’m going. Come back if you really want to talk.

[FOOTSTEPS ON GRASS]

[FOOTSTEPS ON PAVEMENT]

[SOUNDS OF A CAR ENGINE, MODEL UNSEEN]

06:24:15 , 23/10/NULL:

[DISTANT SOUNDS OF BIRDS, BREED UNDECIPHERABLE]

It is of note that the external lights operate on a timer, set to turn off at 0600 sharp in accordance to the sunrise. While the positioning of the camera and the facility is orientated to face the east, no direct sunlight can be seen here.

[SOUNDS OF BIRDS, BREED UNDECIPHERABLE]

Small shadows pass within camera shots. Flying in the northern direction.

>[TRANSCRIPT ENDS HERE]

[smolbeanie1221]

Age dreamer here! Also possibly probably regressor too but I never exactly know what age I feel like, soooo confusion

Now ima vent about that a bit. I grew up in an unconventional way, my dad was sick my entire childhood and he was the center of my world my everything. Anyways I had to grow up fast in some ways, like logically I guess, but in other ways, I stayed as young as I could. I played with toys and stuffed animals until 6-7th grade, so 11-12 years old. A lot longer than most of my peers. Then middle school and high school happened, and coming up with story ideas replaced my pretend games with stuffed animals. Then when Covid happened my freshman year of college, my mental health crashed super hard and I was dissociating on and off for a long freaking time. During that time, I discovered the Lion King fandom and I immediately hyperfixated on that. I started getting sucked into other fandoms too, but Lion King is always my default. The fandoms and universes I hyperfixate on are pretty much always the same books and movies and shows I loved from ages 8-18ish. Covid happened when I was 18, and then I started dissociating for so long that I feel as though I didn’t really “age” at all during the time I was dissociating. I escaped back into fantasy worlds, not with stuffed animals and toys this time, but with characters from Lion King and Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron and Twilight and Divergent and Tinker Bell and Supernatural and Percy Jackson and the Buddies puppies movies and so many others. When I was turning 20, it felt so unreal to me, and it still does feel so unreal to me that I’m 23 now, but turning 20 felt so wrong because, what do you mean I was no longer a teenager?? I didn’t necessarily want to relive my teenage years, but I couldn’t say I was technically a teenager anymore?? Turning 20 years old to me meant full fledged adult, and I hated that thought. And I still feel so weird when I think about the fact that I’m 23 years old now. I don’t feel like an adult at all, I mean I function and live well enough in the adult world, but I don’t feel like I’m actually an adult. And… shit as I’m typing this I’m realizing the term I recently started paying more attention to, permaregressor… huh I think that actually does describe me a lot more than I initially thought. So… I think it might be accurate to say that I’m permaregressed to 15–18ish, and I age dream to go into a younger headspace?? Huh that’s… actually sounding pretty freaking accurate. I’m still not sure but… I think it makes sense??

Please interact with this post if you're a trans or gender non-conforming age regressor/age dreamer so that we can all see we're valid members of our community who aren't alone!

🩵🩷🤍🩵🩷 💛🤍💜🖤 💜🤍💚

[maeedrg]

What are we ?

part 2

fake dating trope Gojo X fem reader

ᯓ★

MASTERLIST of the series

part 1 part 2

Synopsis : Now everyone thinks you are dating the great Gojo Satoru. You are sent on a mission with him in the mountains, and realize that it’s actually a sweet honey trap made by the elders to hope you will come back with a ring on your finger, or a possible heir. What is wrong with them ?! And what is wrong with this sexual tension ? He is your best friend, for fuck’s sake !

Words count : 7.6k.

Warnings : fluff, romantic comedy, blood, sexual tension, slight smut, some dry humping (kinda), slight angst.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : I’m back with part 2 !!! I wrote it in less than a week after the part 1, I hope the part 3 will be out soon as well. Enjoy <3

｡⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚｡⋆♡⋆｡⋆ ˚｡⋆⊹⋆ ˚⋆｡⋆✧⋆˚｡｡⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚｡⋆♡⋆｡⋆ ˚｡⋆⊹⋆ ˚⋆｡

Against your will, Satoru and you were stuck playing pretend. Being his fake girlfriend for one night, became for another day, and then a week, and then already two weeks. Since the gathering, the gossip went faster than you thought, and quickly EVERYONE in the jujutsu society knew that The Strongest had a partner, to the point that even your own students were curious about it. Hearing Nobara saying she couldn’t believe that someone would ever want to date her obnoxious professor was somewhat funny, and embarrassing at the same time.

Because now, you have to lie to their face, and the worst is that Satoru was amused, and actually took pleasure in these shenanigans. He claps his hand with yours, kissing it in front of a disgusted Megumi, a shocked Nobara and an impressed Yuji.

“Is he even treating you well, L/n ? Blink twice if you are dating Gojo against your will !” exclaims Megumi, stepping closer, meanwhile Yuji tries to muffle his laughter.

You look at the teenager, and intend to not smile at his panicked expression. If the poor boy knew… You agreed, but didn't expect that dating Gojo would last more than a night. He wasn’t even your real boyfriend. So, deciding to tease the white haired professor, you blink. One, twice, and Megumi gasps loudly.

“I knew it !” he says glaring at your supposed abuser, but Gojo puts his hand over your eyes to stop you from blinking again, bringing you against him.

“Hey, she’s lying ! Y/n, don’t be mean like that…” whines the so-called Strongest, and you squirm, laughing.

“Professor, I believe you ! You both look very much in love !” insists Yuji innocently, and you can’t help but flutter at him saying that. You couldn’t see the facial expression Satoru did, his hand still covering your eyes. But you wondered if the pink haired student said that because you both acted well in front of everyone, or if because your real feelings were slowly showing a bit too much. Fuck, you thought you weren’t obvious. You hoped Satoru only saw it as you being good at pretending, and nothing more.

“Well, I know she is head over heels. I mean, who wouldn’t ?” Gojo scoffs playfully, being fakely arrogant in his tone of voice.

“You say that, but you are the one that admitted you had a crush on y/n since you were 15,” adds Nobara, but the moment she started her sentence, the hands of Satoru left your eyes to instead cover your ears. Unfortunately, you didn’t have the chance to hear what the brown haired one said.

“Uh ?” you mutter, confused, and Satoru looks down at you with rosy cheeks, shaking his head.

“Your amazing professors need to go now, kiddos. We have a train to take, so get up, go study or something !” exclaims Satoru, freeing your audition and sliding his arm around your shoulders to make you follow him. They all grumble before saying goodbye, and you wave at them as well. Indeed, you had an unexpected mission with Satoru to attend to. One that was located 3 hours away by bullet train from Tokyo. The higher ups were sudden when ordering the two of you to go there, resulting in having to stay sleeping at the location in a hotel. Not that it bothered you, just that it strangely was… out of nowhere. 

“Kids these days…” he sighs, and you glare at Satoru, side-eying him. He looks back at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Ok, you grandpa. And why did you stop me from hearing what Nobara said ? If she said something embarrassing about you that I don’t know, then well… I want to know !” you protest, and he looks away sheepishly, which makes you frown at his unexpected behavior.

“Ahahahah…. nahhhh. Nothing, don’t worry about that,” he replies, acting nonchalant and shrugging off what happened as if it was nothing special or interesting. 

“Satoru, don’t bullshit me,” you sigh, getting even more curious now as you lean closer to him. But he keeps a poker face, before sliding his sleeve and looking at his expensive watch.

“Oh my god, look at the time ! Quick, we’ll be late at the train station !” he says panicked, but you knew better than to believe him, because last time you checked, you still had 2 hours before you. Yet, he doesn’t let you really protest as he grabs you again, and makes you dash with him in the corridor of the campus.

“Hey, we aren’t even late !”

“Time is just an illusionnnn !” he answers with what looks like a mysterious voice.

“This doesn’t even make any sense !” you retort, exasperated.

Satoru dragged you with him, forcing you to run, get your bag and rush towards the car of Ijichi, the poor black haired man startled to see the two of you dash in his direction. It didn’t take longer than two minutes for the car to rumble and then it engaged in the road. 

Once you arrive at the station, finding where your train was located and then entering it, sitting down after putting both of your bags with your necessities for the night in the right compartment, you can finally breathe. Satoru and you were alone in the wagon of the bullet train, but too shaken from this supposed race against time, you don’t question it more. You sigh deeply, looking at the sun setting and then at the person sitting next to you. His long legs were kind of cramped, so you somewhat feel bad for him.

“So it’s some upper grades in the mountains ? Maybe once we arrive at the hotel, even if it will be already late, we should go see around the forest to do some scouting,” you propose, breaking the silence as Satoru turns his face to look down at yours.

“Agreed, but believe me, this mission will go quicker than you think,” he affirms confidently, shrugging before taking off some candies from his bag and opening it, munching on one.

“Why are you so sure about it ?” you ask as he gives you some candies as well that you gladly accept and eat. Oh, way too sweet… Satoru looks at you and even if his blindfold is covering his eyes, you see how his facial expression changes.

“Y/n, be for real. The higher ups are sending us together to this mission on purpose. Now that they think we are dating, they have a new goal in mind,” he explains as if it was logical, and you swallow before dusting your hands from the sugar.

“Which is ?” you pressure him to elaborate more on the matter, not sure about what he was implying. 

“Probably making us have babies as fast as possible, since they think I’m some kind of dog ready to breed,” he spats, rolling his eyes and munching more aggressively on the candy. You almost choke on your saliva.

“What the hell- and how can they even plot this when sending us to fight some curses ?” you answer, not believing it. After what happened at the gathering two weeks ago, you quickly understood the expectations the elders had for Gojo. Some of them are marriage and heirs. But here it was backfiring on you. At first, you thought they would stop pestering him with questions of arranged marriage. They did stop, nonetheless it’s a matter of you now ! You just were supposed to act like his girlfriend for one night, not to be questioned about becoming his wife and starting a family !

“Did you even check the location of the hotel ?” he asks, turning more on his seat to face you better.

“I did, so what ?”

“There is an onsen, many places to sightsee, and overall, it’s a touristic place that a lot of newlyweds go to for their honeymoon. Very romantic, if you know what I mean. So they basically send us on a date to hope for something to happen,” he explains, looking at you before trailing his gaze on the window.

“Are they serious right now ?” you question deadpan. 

“Yep. I mean, it’s nothing cute. They don’t care if we enjoy it or not, they just hope that you either come back with a ring on your finger, or pregnant,” he sighs, shrugging. You don’t answer, your eyes not leaving him as you assimilate what he just said.

No way, no fucking way… Do they really want this ? First of all, Satoru is not even your boyfriend, so this situation was way more embarrassing. But even if he was, that still was wrong. 

“Hey, don’t look at me like that ! I didn’t choose it either,” he whines, defending himself as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“God… why is their mindset so old fashioned ?!” you groan, taking your face in your hands, exasperated.

“Y/n, don’t worry. We deal with the curses and just enjoy the place like some free weekend, or some break from their annoying faces, yeah ?” he proposes, his hand gently ruffling your hair to sooth you down and lighten the mood.

“Alright, I wanted to relax anyway, so this is good, I guess,” you finish to answer, trying to stay positive. Satoru smiles at you, and like that, the train starts to move.

You were stuck here for three hours. Either you were listening to the yap of Satoru, or you were laughing with him. Yet, you grew tired. Today was a long day, and the night was already up in the sky. You lay more comfortably against your seat, and plug on your earphones. You decide to listen to some music, and Satoru notices that. He doesn’t even need to ask, you already are offering him one of your earphones. He grins and puts it on his ear. As the song starts, you look at the scenery.

Your eyelids grow heavy, and Gojo looks at you, before softly pressing your head against his shoulder. You relax, feeling more at ease in this position, and close your eyes. The movement of the train lulls you to sleep, and Satoru takes your phone, knowing the password, and changes the playlist to something more calm.

He stares at you as you soon fall asleep, and gently, the back of his fingers caress your cheek. He smiles to himself, taking his own phone carefully to not wake you up, and then he snaps a picture. Here it goes in his gallery and folder of pics he has with you for years. Something he valued to keep, and enjoyed looking at whenever he was feeling lonely, far away on a mission overseas.

It would be a lie to say that Satoru wasn’t excited at the idea of this mission, curious to see how it will unfold. Yeah, curious, that’s what he told himself.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

As you arrived, the first thing you both did was to register in the hotel. A reservation was already made, and you look around the luxurious place while walking inside the elevator. Satoru leans against the wall, looking down at you.

“What do you think the room will look like ? There is only one bed, you know,” he starts to ask, taping his finger against his bicep when crossing his arms.

“We sleep in the same bed everytime we hangout, don’t make a big deal out of it,” you shake your head, too tired to indulge his weird antics for the rest of the evening. After all, last time, you both ended up sleeping in a hotel room, and Satoru even had to give you his shirt so you wouldn’t be butt naked. The aftermath of the hangover was special… but you were used to chaos with him. 

“You’re no fun, come on, I’m sure the room will be decorated with roses and shit,” he taunts you, getting closer as he balances himself on his other leg. You look at him through the mirror.

“No, they will not go that far,” you chuckle nervously, and now, he stands behind you, looking at you too through the mirror. 

“Well, if the reservation is made under the idea of us being newlyweds…” he muses playfully.

“We don’t even have rings on our fingers !” you reply, and the doors of the elevator open. Satoru steps back, you follow suit and roam through the corridor.

“You think they care ?” he scoffs, taking the keys they gave you earlier, and he slowly opens the door of your assigned room. You enter first, searching for the light.

“Well, it’s just some logic- oh lord,” you cut yourself the moment you manage to illuminate the room. Eyes wide open, you stare at a big king sized bed with flowers creating a heart on the sheets, and some romantic decorations in the spacious place, on the walls, the floor, etc.

“Told ya, sweetheart,” whispers Satoru smugly in your ear. You shiver head to toe and enter quickly, looking around dumbfounded. He takes off his blindfold to look around better. 

“What the fuck ?” you say, narrowing your eyes and not believing what you were seeing. You laugh, taking some of the flowers in your hands. You feel bad that they took the time to arrange a romantic room, all that to not be used in the end. You would lie too if you didn’t feel flustered at the idea of actually doing something with Satoru. No, you should snap out of it.

“Fuck is the right word to say,” jokes your best friend, walking around and then stepping in the corridor of the room to see where it leads.

“I’m not having sex with you on this bed, Satoru,” you correct, looking at him entering somewhere and turning on the lights.

“Why not in the bathroom ? Check it out !” his face pops and then he disappears again in the so-called bathroom. You follow him and open wide your mouth when seeing again flowers scattered on the floor, with a whole jacuzzi next to the shower, and bottles of alcohol in a bucket beside it, with many candles ready to be lit.

“A jacuzzi ? Wine ?!” you almost scream of surprise.

“So, maybe we should fuck. I mean, the atmosphere is perfect,” he trails, lifting his blindfold to give you a seductive glance, even winking at you. And oh, the butterflies in your stomach start to move again, moving quite a lot actually. You roll your eyes, ignoring this growing feeling inside your gut, and he steps closer.

“What ? We already made out, this is the natural next step-,” he starts, before you slap the back of his head, “ouch ! I’m just joking with you ! Can’t even recognize the teasing of your own best friend !” he whines, pouting, and massaging his nape. Of course, it didn’t hurt, he just wanted to make you feel bad.

“I can’t know if you are really joking because you tend to sometimes be serious, like last time at the gathering,” you say as you step out of the bathroom, continuing to inspect the place. You wouldn’t be surprised if you saw sextoys somewhere in the drawers. At this rate, nothing could surprise you anymore.

“You accepted to make out with me,” he justifies, behind you.

“But at first you were joking about it, and it came true. So just in case, I’m not letting you joke about fucking. Annnd, I will not let you touch one drop of wine. You lightweight ass will not handle it,” you warn as you sit down on the bed, and notice how comfy it was just by taking a seat on it. At least, you will sleep well.

“Fine, fine, geez ! Then you don’t drink any drop of wine too,” he retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why ? I hold well my liquor,” you defend yourself, frowning.

“And what if you end up drunk and jump on me trying to take off my clothes ? I’m innocent, you know ?” he scoffs, putting his hands in front of his torso as if he was shy, and you can’t help but laugh. His smile grows wider when he sees you enjoying his joke.

“Ah yes, very innocent… Alright, I won’t touch it too. But I will be bringing it home, it looks expensive and it would be a waste to not open the bottle,” you shrug, grinning slightly. Maybe you’ll share it with Shoko.

“You do as you please. Come on, let's check the forest before it’s too late, I’m starving and I don’t want to take too long,” he ends up saying as he grabs your hand to make you stand up, impatient, as he puts back his blindfold on.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

You roam through the big trees, in alert, trying to sense any type of curses that could be lurking around the forest. Each time you breathe, some fog is created because of the cold weather, in contrast with your warm mouth. Satoru was some meters behind, using his Six Eyes to spot any danger, and even levitating above the mountains to have a better vision of the environment. You reach the top of the hill, the wind caressing your skin. You stop walking, the sound of the snow cracking under your feet dying in the silence.

It was oddly calm, and as you raise your head to see where Gojo was, you end up impressed by the galaxy above your head embracing the sky. Your gaze lightens, staring at the infinity of the stars, murmuring a tiny ‘woaw’ to yourself. It truly was a sight to see, a beautiful piece of nature. You understood better why some people had their honeymoon taking place here.

“We can see the sky perfectly clear, here,” says Satoru, suddenly appearing next to you, hands in his pocket and his blindfold down his collar to allow his eyes to be out. You gaze at him, his hair slowly moving from the wind. He stares at the emptiness of the sky and the horizon, and you can’t help but feel some melancholia and loneliness emanating from him.

“You’re here… yeah, it’s amazing,” you answer softly, still bewitched by the stars.

“Did you sense anything ?” he asks, stepping now in front of you, the moon illuminating his white hair. It should be illegal how ethereal he is. 

“Nope, only animals. And you ?” You shrug.

“It was faint, so hard to know exactly where,” he explains vaguely.

“Are the curses hiding from us ?” you joke, turning slightly to look behind, but there is nothing in the darkness of the night. Only the moon reflects on the snow, illuminating the area.

“They should be. I would be scared too, if I was them,” he teases arrogantly, and you turn back towards him wiggling your eyebrows.

“They should shake in front of us !” you exclaim, intimidating, and he explodes of laughter, you too. After some seconds, your laughs die down slowly, and you take a deep breath, smiling. It wasn’t going so bad for now, you thought. Satoru quietly stares at you, his eyes twinkling with something intimate and what seems like vulnerability.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it ?” he murmurs oh so gently, his gaze never leaving your face as if he simply couldn’t look away. You look into his irises, not answering for a second as you are caught back by his saying. You then lift your head, and look at the moon above the two of you. Your lips stretch in a soft smile, and your eyes fall back on Satoru.

“Very beautiful,” you insist in a sweet voice.

But then, a strong presence makes itself known, and two curses appear from the sky, rushing towards the two of you. You directly step back, in a fighting stance, your back pressed against the one of Satoru to have a peripheral view of the new opponents. You groan, ready to strike.

“Oh, we have some company. Interrupting our date like that, man… read the room, damn !” whines Satoru, a cocky smile stretching his lips, before easily avoiding an attack. You don’t wait any second longer and rush towards the curse in front of you and activate your cursed energy.

It dashes on the side but you follow suit. In the background, you hear Satoru fighting as well, and from what you can understand, he’s toying with his enemy, surely bored even though it was a grade 1 curse. You rolled your eyes, used of his antics during battles, and threw a cursed punch to the jaw of your own opponent. It screams and falls back on the ground, blood splashed everywhere on the once white snow -now an ugly green- as it struggles to stand back up. You decide to achieve it in one last blow, panting. Suddenly, it’s gone. You turn around, catching back your breath to see if Satoru was alright. But then you notice the curse attacking him from behind. As a reflex for his safety, you scream :  

“Look out !” Satoru grins and before you can even blink, the curse just exploded from the technique of your best friend. You step back, the blow creating a strong wind than then dies down as quickly as it came.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” he chuckles, saying it as if it was even stupid of you to dare worry for him in a battle. You don’t mention his arrogant tone, dusting your hands as he steps towards you.

“Well, that was way too quick…” you whisper. He stands in front of you, using his thumb to wipe some blood from your cheek. You look intently at him, the softness of his gesture in duality with the gruesome liquid he just took off.

“Don’t say that too fast,” he taunts, his smile growing wider.

“What do you mea-” you get interrupted by his arm swinging around you, and suddenly pressing your body against his. His hand is quickly on the back of your head to protect it. At the same moment, he raises his other fingers, and you can only sense the presence of a third curse jumping towards you from behind, soon getting annihilated by the red of Gojo.

Once it’s gone, you feel your heart beating fast in your throat, staying like that against the white haired male. You didn’t dare to move, still surprised from what happened, and surely because you didn’t want to step away from him.

“Thank you,” you end up whispering, before feeling his fingers caressing the sides of your face tenderly.

“Be more careful next time, y/n,” he says, more serious than usual. A facial expression that you weren’t used to see on him.

“You’re right,” you sigh, looking up at his eyes. His seriousness disappeared, now a fat grin is plastered on his handsome face.

“Our mission is done. Let’s go enjoy this arranged date, what do you think ?” he proposes, his thumb sliding down your neck, a lingering trail of fire on your skin, before he steps back.

“Dinner would be nice,” you accept, following him as he walks back down the hill. 

“You read my mind. I could eat for ten !” he exclaims hungrily, and as if the world heard him, his stomach growls of hunger. You chuckle at the sound, thinking it was cute.

“The restaurant of the hotel looked good,” you shrug, and he swings his arm around your shoulder to bring you centimeters closer so he could share some warmth with you in this snowy forest.

“As long as I can eat, I’ll go anywhere,” he comments, winking at you.

“Then let’s go, I’m starving too” you finish.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Eating at the restaurant felt like a blessing to your starved bodies. Least to say, Satoru did eat for ten. Not to add the desserts he ordered. Long used to his appetite of an ogre, you didn’t comment and enjoyed watching him eat easily pounds of food. Obviously, Satoru being Satoru, he insisted on acting like boyfriend and girlfriend even though the two of you were far away from the elders. His reason why : who knows, maybe they are secretly watching ? Yeah, right. You didn’t buy any of that, and ended up having to spoon feed him his dessert, and let him spoon feed yours, or else he’ll throw a tantrum. A damn tantrum at his old age.

Exhausted, the two of you came back to the hotel room. Nothing changed since you left : the romantic atmosphere was still present. As you both wash your hands in the sink of the bathroom, you look at the jacuzzi. You already were picturing yourself relaxing in it, surrounded by hot water and warm bubbles. Some wine in your hand would be good too. No, wait. No wine. The both of you agreed on that earlier. Seeing you eying down the tube, Satoru leans on the sink once his hands are dried.

“Should we try the jacuzzi ?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing at it, doing a motion with his chin to show the tube.

“We ?” you ask, drying your hands on a towel, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you and me. Who else ? Santa ?” he mocks, rolling his eyes. You huff at his teasing.

“I got it the first time. I mean, we’ll enjoy the jacuzzi, but not at the same time,” you explain yourself, more slowly, to emphasize what you mean as you look at Satoru to make sure it’s what you were thinking about. But the grin on his face says otherwise.

“No, at the same time,” he corrects.

“I don’t have a swimsuit,” you retort.

“Me neither,” he adds, shrugging, not caring about this issue.

“I will not go naked with you in the jacuzzi, Satoru,” you shake your head, warning him. Your best friend could be bold with his requests sometimes.

“Why not ?” he asks as if it was a genuine logical question.

“Seriously ? I don’t want to see your dick !” you exclaim, getting flustered. I mean, you did want to see his dick. But, not like that, in this situation. It would be too embarrassing. It was better if it only stayed as a fantasie of yours, anyway.

“Hey, you just hurt it’s ego !” He points, faking hurt as he puts his hand over his chest like he got damaged.

“Poor guy. Well, I’m not flashing you my coochie,” you laugh nervously when answering.

“I won’t mind-” you cut him off by giving him a warning glare. He flashes you a fake apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I mean, if you want I can put on my blindfold. I only can see cursed energy with it, no flesh or bones. Like that I would respect your privacy,” he suggests, stepping closer towards you, leaving the sink. You look at him approaching you.

“But on the contrary I would be seeing you naked,” you add, narrowing your eyes and staying straight on your feet when he looms over you. Why did he have to be so tall ? Damn.

“I don’t mind, you can look. I have nothing to hide from you.” He flashes you his playful smirk, showing his white teeth.

“You are shameless,” you sigh, shaking your head. 

“Ok, so what about our underwear ? No, wait, it’s gross, they are dirty… hum, then.. We are naked, buuuuut, we wrap a clean towel around our bodies, and go inside the jacuzzi with it. It will not be very comfortable, but better than nothing. What do you think ?” he ends up asking, tilting his head to the side. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking about it, hard. You would lie if you said that you didn’t want to try the jacuzzi with Satoru. And this idea of the towel wasn’t so bad. You take a deep breath before nodding slowly.

“That’s actually not a bad idea…”

“Perfect ! Then let’s go,” he muses happily, beaming at the idea as he suddenly throws over his shoulders his shirt, revealing his toned torso. Quickly, his hands are on his belt that he swiftly takes it off, and you turn away as you grab a random white towel and rush out of the bathroom.

“Wait, don’t change in front of me ! Geez !” you exclaim, flustered. This man had no shame ! You only hear his laugh, as he seemed proud of himself. You sigh and sit on the bed, taking off your clothes, thoughtful. You fold them, before wrapping the towel around your body. Ok, that shit was tiny… It barely reached under your ass, and you couldn’t move too much or else it would fall. Alright, you had to work with that.

You try to be brave, feeling oddly nervous at the idea of being like that with Satoru, before stepping towards the bathroom. The door was still open from earlier, and as you carefully look inside, you see him already inside the jacuzzi. He was sitting lazily, head tilted back, his Adam apple to your seeing. The bubbles reached his middle, and you saw the tiny towel around his waist, hiding any private areas. His arms were spread out on each side of the tube, and he slowly moved his gaze towards you when sensing your approach. Holy fuck, he looked temptingly hot. Way too hot. No, that was bad. This whole atmosphere was bad. Since you started this fake dating thing with him, your fantasies grew wilder, and it got harder each time to hide your feelings and desires for your best friend.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy,” he teases, smiling cheekily. And God, that infuriated you so much. You glare at him as you carefully enter the jacuzzi, being awfully aware that the towel was way too small for you.

“Shut up,” you say, scouting away from him once you are completely inside the water. You sigh of comfort and pleasure, enjoying the bubbles against your body. It felt relaxing, your muscles needed that. 

“Why are you sitting so far away ?” asks your best friend, suspicious. You gaze at his half naked figure, his wet hair being slicked back, some drops falling down his face, neck, arms, chest. Ok, you should stop staring. And clearly, you felt like a dog. Why were you so tempted to just pounce on him ?! 

“Because you stink,” you reply, trying to hide your smile as you turn your head away and cover your nose. That obviously was a lie, Satoru always smelled something sweet, just like he got out of a bakery or a candy store. 

“Me ? Stinky ? I beg to differ ! Come here,” he scoffs, frowning, obviously offended, before suddenly grabbing you. He brings you towards him at light speed, making some of the water move around and splash. His arms wrap around your waist and squeeze you against his torso. You are now sitting in between his legs, your skin rubbing his. Holy shit, you swallow your saliva, looking up at him as you shift awkwardly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers, his blue eyes boring into yours, and you bat your lashes nervously. You wished you could act like everything was ok, back to normal, but it was almost impossible.

“Like what ?” you mutter back. Suddenly, your throat is dry. You were thirsty, and not only for water. Ok, the romantic atmosphere wasn’t helping at all, not to add the proximity. You move a bit, but Satoru doesn’t let you squirm away, resulting in your face getting closer to his.

“Like you want to kiss me,” he murmurs, and your stomach drops. You look away, at his shoulder instead. 

“You’re just projecting,” you end up answering, like you were just joking around. But the wavering in your voice betrays you instantly. Satoru narrows his eyes, and his thumb starts to softly caress your thigh, right below the towel. Your heart starts to beat incredibly faster.

“So you say I’m the one that wants to kiss you ?” he muses, smug. His eyes search yours for any truth, but you continue to look away.

“Kinda,” you simply say, and try to gather your courage to look back at his face. It would be weird if you stared away for too long, right ? Wrong, the moment you turn around, your lips are only a few inches from his. Shit, shit, shit. 

“Don’t tempt me,” he ends up saying, his breath caressing your lips. You look at his, pink and moisturized. Tempting, and you knew from the gathering that they tasted sweet.

“I didn’t,” you simply answer, and his thumb draws a circle on your thigh.

“You are.”

“You’re dumb,” you chuckle nervously, not knowing what to say. He smiles, like an idiot that just won the lottery.

“Love makes you dumb,” he says, kissing your cheek. You open your eyes wider, not sure if what you heard was correct. Did you ? Is he serious or just joking around like usual ? No, Satoru is your best friend. FRIEND. Get that in your head. You both loved to tease each other, so it was nothing new. Yeah, just the usual joking around, exactly. You take a deep breath and inhale a laugh, trying to not sound too nervous.

“You take your role of pretending to be my boyfriend very seriously,” you say, and his arm loosen a bit, allowing you to get more comfortable. You back away, leaving slightly his warmth, getting on the opposite side of the tub to face him. Even if the jacuzzi wasn’t very large, your legs tangling together, you at least could breathe better. Hoping to clear your clouded horny mind.

“I’m serious,” he says, looking straight into your eyes. You stare back, not answering, because at first you didn’t know how to react to his words. Some seconds pass, the tension still present as ever. You bite your lower lip, and then play with the hem of your towel, before sighing.

“Satoru…,” you start to say, in a soft voice.

“Hmmm ?”

“Do you think it would be that weird if we really started dating ?” you ask, looking into his eyes. He holds your gaze. Wait, why did you ask that ? You actually blurted this question out of your mouth without realizing. But you were dying to know his answer. It was vital.

“No,” he says, as simple as ever.

“Why ?”

“We’re basically acting like an old married couple all the time,” he explains, flashing you a teasing smile, chuckling. You chuckle back too, and then gently look away at the candles.

“True. But you don’t do commitment,” you say, more bitterly than you wanted. You hated yourself for saying the words Naoya said back at the gathering. It made you feel nauseous. Yet, you couldn’t help but know a part of what he said was true. Satoru didn’t give his heart like that. The risk of doing that was too high. Walls were all around him, making it almost impossible to reach his heart. 

“I… do,” he answers awkwardly. Oh no, did you make him uncomfortable ? But it was too late now, you couldn’t stop from speaking your mind. It was weighing heavy on you, after all. Could he really blame you for that ? Maybe. Or maybe not. It was too complicated.

“I know, you don’t have time for real relationships,” you say vaguely.

“Y/n, being The Strongest means…” sighs Satoru, frustrated.

“A lot of responsibilities, and you aren’t allowed to be vulnerable. So committing to someone is a no for you,” you cut him in his sentence. There is a pause where he stares at you longly, silent, frowning.

“I guess…”

“But I’ll always be here for you, you know that, right ?” you whisper, looking back at him, feeling bad for this change of mood. His lips stretch in a small smile, and you feel like you can breathe again. 

“I know.”

A second passes. You don’t talk, him either.

“Me too. I’ll always be here for you.” You smile at his words. You melted a little as well.

“I know,” you whisper. He looks at you like he wants to devour you.

Before you can understand what is happening, he suddenly looms over you, grabs your face, and kisses you. Tenderly. Oh, you think you just died and came back to life in a matter of a heart beat. Talking about heart, it’s hammering widely now. You shiver, as his hot and heavy breath is heard, mixed with the feeling of his hands cradling you with care and softness. You can’t resist, and answer the kiss. What was happening ? Why was he kissing you ? It wasn’t like at the gathering. No. It felt different. His lips move against yours, tilting his head to the side as he leans closer, impossibly closer.

“Don’t mind me,” he whispers in between a new kiss, his left hand sliding behind your head to hold you. “I’m just…” he continues, his lips more passionate, needier at each breath he takes, “... practicing,” he ends up saying, his knee sliding in between your thighs. Holy fuck, your towel suddenly feels suffocating, making you want to take it off. No, rip it off.

“Practicing for what ?” you ask in a short whisper as he cuts your breath by claiming your lips all over again. It was fierce, impatient. His right hand slides under your towel, reaching your thigh, inching towards your butt.

“If we need to put on a show in front of the elders, again,” he explains, before smashing his lips against yours, not allowing you to answer or utter a word aside from a moan. Your body feels like jelly, his knee dangerously close to your heat, his tongue caressing yours.

He sucks on your lip before devouring your mouth with so much want, like you were the last meal of this poor starved man. His fingers grips your hair, his other hand squeezing the fat of your inner thigh now. He opens more of your legs to slide them around his waist, as he stands up. You gasp, but he drinks it, his arm supporting you and grabbing your ass to keep you steady. Your body feels like it’s on fire, the water rushing down your two bodies as the kiss gets more intense. 

Not only the water got you wet, and you moaned against his tongue. Your breast is about to spill out of the towel, pressed on his torso, your nipples getting hard. He feels it. It’s making him crazy.

Satoru steps out of the jacuzzi without any difficulty, carrying you in his arms, and puts you down on the sink to continue kissing you. Even if the air around felt colder as you left the warmth of the water, your bodies are simply heated to the bone. He grabs your waist, bringing you closer, and you swear you just felt something hard. You glance down, and open your eyes wider when you notice that under his towel, Satoru is hard. Hard like a rock.

Lord have mercy. 

It grinds against your clothed cunt, and you can’t help but moan. It twitches, and his hands dig dipper in your fat. His tongue caresses you sensually, and you hear him groan. He then suddenly parted his lips away from yours, breathing heavy, panting like a dog, forehead falling on your shoulder.

“Y/n, push me away,” he suddenly says, catching back his breath.

“What ?” you ask, confused, still shaken from what happened.

“Or slap me, if you prefer,” he adds, his wet hair sticking to your skin as his hands roam up your back. You shudder, his touch feeling electric.

“Slap you ? Satoru you’re talking nonsen-” you start to answer.

“Please,” he cuts you, tilting his face to the side so you could look into his eyes. You gulp.

“Why ?” you whisper.

“Because I need to get away from you before we cross a line, and I don’t have the will to stop. So please, make me stop,” he begs. Satoru is begging you, looking weak, about to snap, about to crumble completely.

“And what if I don’t want to stop ?” you dare answer. 

“Y/n, please,” he insists. You stare into his eyes, and see all the self restraint in his gaze. You take a deep breath. You wanted more, but Satoru was right, it would be crossing a line. A line that maybe you weren’t ready to cross yet. Not now. So, reluctant, you push him away. Satoru steps back, putting his hand in his wet hair. You fluster, crossing your legs. He grabs a dry towel, and throws it at you. You catch it as he takes one too, wrapping it around his waist to take off the wet one and put it to dry as well.

“Let’s dry ourselves and go to sleep, yeah ? I’ll bring your pajamas so you can change in the bathroom,” he announces without waiting for an answer. You stay like that, unmoving, not knowing how to react, and he is already back, giving them to you. You barely notice him kissing your forehead, like an apology, before he turns around and closes the door to leave you the intimacy you needed to get changed.

… Ok. What just happened ?! 

Like a robot, you take off the wet towel and dry yourself with the other one. You don’t know how long you took, but once you are finished, you are stepping in the bedroom. You see him already under the covers, the flowers that formed the heart on the sheets are now down on the floor. His arms are crossed behind his head, and he glances at you when you arrive. Only the light of the moon outside was illuminating his face. You felt shy after what happened. There wasn’t the excuse of alcohol or annoying the elders to explain this steamy hot kisses session. The two of you knew that “practice” was a terrible lie. You sigh as you slide under the covers, and turn your back to Satoru as you try to calm down.

“Good night,” you end up saying.

“Good night, y/n,” he says, and God, it was awkward. You felt him shift slightly, his body brushing against yours. Some minutes passed in silence, only the sounds of your breathings in the quietness of the night.

“Do you hate me now ?” he suddenly asks out of nowhere, and you turn around, looking at him surprised.

“What ? Why would I ?”

“For kissing you like that,” he explains, and you look away, recalling his lips on yours. You fluster and sigh before answering “no, Satoru. I don’t.”  He smiles and then scoots even closer before wrapping his arm around your body, snuggling your back against his chest.

“I thought you were mad,” he whispers in the crook of your neck as he inhales your scent.

“I’m not, I promise,” you say gently.

“So… if I did it again, you wouldn't be mad, right ?” he teases.

“Don’t push your luck,” you chuckle softly.

“At least I asked,” he hums.

“Sleep, Satoru,” you order him. God, it felt good to talk back normally with him. The tension slowly died down. Because if it stayed like that, you wouldn’t have been able to sleep.

“Yes ma’am,” he ends up answering before kissing your cheek in a giggle.

It took you longer to fall asleep than usual, but at least, you managed to.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ  

The next day, the two of you didn’t talk about what happened, not even once. The rest of the day was full of the two of you being busy strolling around the city and the mountains, before having to go back to Tokyo. Later in the afternoon, after eating at a small local restaurant, you went to take your bullet train. Again, you had three hours to kill. Satoru decided to pester you, which ended in you wanting to kill him, but that only amused him more. He eventually calmed down when you both shared your earphones to listen to music, slowly falling back asleep against his shoulder.

It’s in a sigh that you stretch, done with the report you just had to do to the elders about the mission. Satoru grins, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Their faces were hilarious ! They were so mad that their little plan didn’t work !” exclaims Satoru, laughing, proud of this outcome. The plan did kind of work, actually. But not like the elders expected. You decide to not mention it.

“If they want new sorcerers so bad, why don’t they try to have kids themselves ?!” you sigh, walking next to him in the corridor, and Satoru glances at you.

“I think their sperm is like ashes, so probably it won’t work even if they tried,” he jokes, even though what he said had a big part of truth. You choke on your saliva, your face distorting with disgust.

“Ewwww, I just imagined it !” you cry out, Satoru explodes with laughter, and you soon do too. When he was laughing, it was impossible to not follow. It was way too contagious.

“Ahhhh… Sometimes I just wish I could annihilate all the elders without the consequences,” he suddenly says, looking at the sky.

“What ?” you ask surprised, not sure of what you heard.

“What ?” he repeats innocently, as if he didn’t say anything. You chuckle, shaking your head.

Everything was just fun and giggles (and hot make out sessions) for now. But going against the wish of the elders meant business. They didn’t care about your happiness as a couple with Gojo, -even if it was fake-, nor even cared about him as a person in the slightest. All they wanted was for him to work himself to the bone as The Strongest, and carry his duty as the head of the Gojo Clan, meaning marriage and heirs. If you weren’t able to give him that, then they would soon need to… get rid of you. And find a better suitor for their goals.

Fake dating Satoru brought you more problems than you originally thought. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Part 3 coming soon !

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 16

Part 1 [...] 14 15 16 17

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, violence, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: guys we're just gonna roll with the fact daemon knows how to braid hair realllly well ok stfu. also ASHFOASF long time no see i hope you enjoyyy!!!!!! | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

You find it hard to dress yourself for your clothes were far too heavy for you. What's more, they looked like they were eating you alive with how much weight you've lost. Your sister offered to have new dresses commissioned for you, but the moment your father caught wind of it, he made sure to send away any tailor that would fit you, insisting that you would regain your weight. You only did after Aegon was born, but as it remains, you look odd in your ill-fitting garbs.

By the time you are finished dressing yourself, you stare at your reflection. Black suited you, you think... it made the little color that remained on your face pop up.

Daemon emerges from the bathroom as you were about to fix your hair. His tresses looked tangled in its dripping state. A towel covered his belly and thighs, skin still damp. And his skin, his skin was burned. Were once you remembered both faint and deep cuts rested, now rested there was thick and textured marks.

"Dae-" you start but immediately stop when he heads straight towards his closet, hastily moving to dress himself.

You fidget with your fingers, unsure if you ought to help, approach, or even speak. You stare at him, hoping he'd acknowledge you. He doesn't.

You sigh and slowly walk to your vanity, though your eyes remain on him. He spares you a look, immediately looking away when he catches you staring. He puts on his breeches and pulls his towel off. He ties its laces, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. It wasn't. In fact, it was not even an easy feat, as his hands were trembling.

You don't notice that exactly, but you do notice his frantic movements which were so unlike him. You wonder if it was consequence war, and you find yourself pretending not to notice in case it was the case. The last thing you wanted was to trigger him today of all days. You wanted the day you send off your children to be peaceful for the both of you.

You walk sit before your mirror, eyes on your reflection as you comb your hair. Your gaze keeps flickering back to Daemon though.

He notices, and can hardly bare it. He haphazardly puts on his dress shirt then grabs his doublet, pacing across the room. He shudders as he chucks his towel on the bed. He huffs and leans on the table where an ewer of wine laid. He chucks his top on the surface beside it and pours himself a drink.

His aim is poor. Red sputters on the table due to his shaky grip. He nearly makes the cup overflow, but manages to control himself. Quickly, the prince downs the alcohol, but it seems to do nothing for his nerves, and absolutely nothing for the maddening nightmare that was torturing him so greatly.

In truth, he did not know if he quivered out of fear or anger because of it. He did not know which part haunted him more, the fact that his subconscious thought this up, or the fact that it might be true.

He gasps when he hears his name. He sets his cup down with a thud and turns over his shoulder. He scratches his eyes as he looks at you, face shining though your brows were furrowed.

"A-are... are you-"

"It's nothing," he quips, stuffing his dress shirt into his trousers.

You shift on your chair to face him and frown, "Daemon."

He freezes, jaw clenching with an unwillingness to confess what was torturing him.

You see his steely gaze and his tensed shoulders. You knew better than to pursue an uncomfortable conversation with him right now, so you lower your gaze and slowly shake your head, "I... I simply wanted to ask if you would help braid my hair."

He freezes, "what?"

"I thought it would be good to-"

Daemon grabs his doublet and hastily wears it, nearly sprinting towards you.

"- have you..." your breath hitches. You look at him through his reflection as he comes behind you, "... do it in the fashion of your house."

His hands tremble as he reaches for your hair.

"... if... it pleases you."

"It pleases me," he blurts, stroking your hair, "thank you."

You shake my head and sigh, "I-... thank you." You lower your gaze to your hands, "might I write while you do this?"

Daemon's brows furrow as you apprehensively turn to him. He shakes his head but then nods, "o... of course."

You watch him reach for the comb.

He feels its weight before shaking his head again, "wh... to whom?"

"My twin," you say simply, opening the drawer to pull out some parchment and ink. Your eyes slowly look at his reflection as you get your quill and shut the drawer.

Daemon nods. He grips the comb and shrugs. He shakes his head before gathering your locks and brushing through it. He clenches his teeth, trying not to sound so sour as he speaks. He fails, "you write to him oft?"

You nearly tell him everyday, but you change it to: "yes."

He notices that you had two pieces of parchment on your table. He cannot help the jealousy that blooms at the idea of you writing long letters for him. "Much to say, have you?"

Your eyes flicker up to him.

Daemon does not look at you as he parts your hair and begins braiding.

"What?"

"You have two pieces of parchment."

"Oh..." you look back to the table, not thinking he'd notice, "the other is for Laenor."

He freezes.

"I do not write to him as oft," you mutter.

Daemon cannot help the sound he makes. His breath hitches as he gathers your dark hair into his fingers. He chuckles rather manically, "of course."

You decide not to reply. You simply leave him to his work as you work on your letters.

You finish writing your letters before he finishes fixing your hair. Daemon watches you fold the notes neatly and prepare wax to seal them off. Part of him wishes to enquire what you have to say to those wretched men, but another part knows he might regret it. Surely, to your brother at least, you would air out your grievances. The prince does not know if he could stomach the knowledge you'd express your hatred for him with someone else.

You melt wax over a candle and seal the letter with your stamp. He watches you do this, and as he does, he imagines all the times you did the same for his letters. He wonders if you did so with the same ease. He wonders if you paid it littler or more attention than this. He wonders if he'd ever be at the receiving end of your affections ever again.

When he gets to the last part of the last braid, he finds himself unwilling to pin it in place with the rest for your hair. He stares at his work, at the interwoven plaits going down your shoulders. He tucks some stray hair behind your ear, so badly wishing he could kiss you.

Perhaps he could, but then you'd push him away. He would not survive.

Finally, he pins the last part of your hair and slowly withdraws his hands, "it is done."

You immediately come to stand and turn to him.

Daemon watches as you look at his unbuttoned doublet. His stomach drops when you begin to fasten them.

"Shall I braid your h-"

"No," he blurts, shaking his head, "I do not want you to touch me."

You freeze, unsure if you heard him correctly. You slowly pull away, "you... you don't want me to touch you?"

"No," he shakes his head.

You knit your brows and nods slowly, "I see... why?"

"Why?" he whispers, as if he was stabbed, "why does it matter? Do you want to touch me?"

"I... I want to be civil with you."

His nostrils flare as he chuckles dryly.

"I do not want to be at war with you."

"But we are!" Daemon blurts, "love is war."

"Says who?" you knit your brows.

"Says my bleeding heart," he mutters, as he fixes his doublet himself. His eyes begin to water, so he turns away.

You feel your throat tighten. You shrug, "is this your way of saying you love me?"

"I have always loved you," he turns back to you, tears staining his cheeks.

You laugh.

He rarely hears such a sound from your lips and seems to hate it. "Mazemā nyke syt iā pirtirys?" he mutters under his breath. You take me for a liar.

You chuckle again and shake your head. You shrug, "mazeman ao syt iā mittys." I take you for a fool.

Daemon lowers his head.

You nearly reach out for him, but then you remember he does not invite your touch. You turn to the door then back to him, "let us be civil today."

"No," he lifts his gaze, walking to the vanity. He grabs a hair tie and does his hair, "I want a peace treaty."

"What?"

"The Stranger has scratched my skin in the Stepstones. I know better than to believe civility can be achieved between your enemies."

You laugh again, but this time, it is far unbearable. It is loud and anxious and broken. You clutch your chest when you begin to feel it tighten, "and I am your enemy, Daemon?"

"Daor," he says desperately. He grabs your arms and rapidly shakes his head, "dōrī ao.... yn nyke." No. Never you... but I.

You stare at him as he slowly pulls away.

"I have become your enemy whether either of us care to admit it or not," he shakes his head as he turns to his feet, "I cannot reconcile my mistakes; I can ask only for a peace treaty."

You rub your forehead as you lean on your chair, "I do not understand."

"You-" he chokes. He clears his throat, "you say look at me and see only grief and loss." He wipes his face, "I do not want it to be so."

You huff and shake your head, "it is not something you can change."

"Not if you don't let me," Daemon mutters, "kostilus..." he shakes his head, "ivestragon nyke skorkydoso olvie yno kostā mōzugon gō ao pykagon nyke hen." He scratches his eyes before looking at you. Please... tell me how much of me you can drink before you spit me out.

"Daemon."

He looks at you, violet eyes shrouded by pink.

"I..." you shake your head, "don't know."

He sighs, "plea-"

"I'm telling you, I don't know."

He sighs again, shaking his head then nodding it, "sȳz." Fine.

You watch him step back and motion to the door.

"After you."

You stare at him for a moment and grip your skirts tightly in your hands. You draw a deep breath before walking off.

When you open the door, you hear the clanking of steel. You see Arryk and Erryk stationed outside your door.

"Princess," they greet in unison.

You frown at them, "Erryk... Arryk."

Arryk's eyes rather unwillingly catch sight of Daemon walking towards you. He clenches his jaw and steps aside, not wanting to see him. Erryk ignores him altogether as he reaches a hand for you, "will we be heading for the solar to break fast?"

You shake your head and push his hands down.

Erryk's jaw feathers as Daemon comes to your side.

Daemon's gaze remains lowered. He mutters softly, "kesan bartos naejot se ripo," before slipping past you and walking off.

Erryk eyes him hotly where Arryk turns to you, giving you a wary look, "what did he say?"

You shake your head and offer a smile, "he said he'll be going to the pit."

Arryk simultaneously thinks how fortunate and cowardly it was that Daemon will be flying off. Erryk says it out loud, "so, he's leaving on Caraxes?"

You rub your belly, "we will be sending our Alaeric and Alyrie off."

The twins freeze.

"I do not know if Daemon spoke to the maesters about it already," you mutter, "would one of you go and check. I... I do not want to see them... not like that."

"I can go," Arryk nods.

You nod rapidly and offer a smile, "thank you."

Just as his brother leaves, Erryk reaches a hand out to you again, "perhaps you ought to break fast."

You shake your head, finally taking his hand, "I... I will be sick."

His brows furrow, "you must promise me you will eat something after then."

"Erryk-"

The shake of his head cuts you off.

You take a deep breath, "you know it is hard."

"Then perhaps you can eat with the prince."

Your eyes widen at the idea.

It takes a moment for Erryk to realize why and he quickly dispels the thought, "Aegon. With your nephew, the prince."

You heave and shake your head.

His jaw tightens, "I would never im-"

"I know," you raise a hand, "I just... I misunderstood. Forgive me."

His nostrils flare, "there is no world in which you could ever do something that offends me."

You come to life when you reach Aegon's quarters. The boy immediately runs towards you. You smile and lean down. He jumps into your arms and you tenderly pick him up, sealing him into a hug

"Aunt!" he beams, clutching your cheeks.

"My boy," you coo, embracing him fondly.

Aegon giggles, his little arms wrapping around you. You remain like this for a moment before he pulls away and grins, clutching your cheeks again, "play!"

You kiss his forehead, "actually, we're going to go outside today."

Aegon blinks, his silver lashes fluttering, "play?"

You rock him in your arms, "zaldrīzes." Dragon.

He gasps.

"Gaomagon jaelā naejot ūndegon iā zaldrīzes?" Do you want to see a dragon?

"KESSA. KESSA!" Aegon cheers in agreement.

With this, you head to your sister's chambers and tell her of your plans for today. Alicent offers you a solemn expression before giving you a hug. She says she will change and inform the king. You then head off to the last person you wished to invite.

"Come in," his voice is deep.

Aegon leans into you as Erryk opens the door. You step into the Hand's office and nod at your father, "hello, my lord."

Otto lifts his gaze from his desk and furrows his brows, "what's happened?"

You shake your head as he slowly comes to a stand. You rub Aegon's back, "nothing... I... I've told Daemon about the twins."

He tenses at the thought, eyes turning to Erryk, who stood just by the door.

"We will be sending them off now."

Sending them off? Otto relaxes when he realizes who you actually meant. He nods and walks towards you. He places a hand on your shoulder, "I am glad."

You gulp as you look at him, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

The walk is long and quiet, save for the babbling of Aegon. He was rather fond of his grandfather's pin, and reached out to it every time Otto got close enough to.

"No," Otto would quip each time, raising a brow at the boy.

Aegon, none the wiser, would giggle, thinking it was a game.

At some point, the old man had to surrender his pin denoting his status to the boy when he managed to get pull on it. With a sigh, he hands it to his grandson.

You immediately pull it away from Aegon when he tries to eat it. You quip with a raised brow, "no."

The sight of your babies on a pyre sends a chill down your spine. The maesters and Arryk are already there, waiting for the rite to commence. The sight is too much, thus why you fix your eyes on Aegon.

Otto notices your discomfort and comes to your side, blocking your view of the pyre with his back. He turns to one of your wards, then the other. He motions with his head, wordlessly beckoning them over.

Erryk and Arryk oblige.

"It would be best if my daughter have this moment with her husband," Otto says, "stay back unless called upon."

Arryk clenches his jaw and Erryk purses his lips. Regardless, they nod and speak in unison, "my lord."

Soon, the king, the queen, and the crown princess arrive. It's rather fitting, for right after, there is a loud screech in the sky. Aegon immediately reacts, gasping as his hands fly up to cover his ears. A flash of red soars overhead.

The poor boy is overwhelmed by the sound of beating wings and begins to clamor and panic. You do your best to calm him and instinctively turn to your sister, finding her clutching her swollen belly in worry. You debate whether you should hand her Aegon, but you decide to try and calm the boy, not wanting to strain her by making her carry the boy.

You turn to my father, who wipes his grandson's cheeks and strokes his head.

You kiss Aegon's cheeks and rock him, beginning to sing, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red— shhh it's alright."

Caraxes soon lands before the pyre and screeches.

Aegon joins suit, screaming into you shoulder as he clings onto me for dear life.

Daemon sees this, jaw clenching at the sight. He watches Otto block Aegon's view of Caraxes, muttering something to the boy. He watches his sister come forward to calm the boy. He watches you rock him. The Hightowers are unified because of his brother's son. He unsaddles himself from Caraxes.

"DAOR!" Viserys screams, just as the blood wyrm cranes his head dangerously close to you. Rhaenyra gasps as he watches Caraxes seemingly try to attack. The king steps forward, repeating the command, making Caraxes pull his long neck back and screech back in offense.

Aegon shrieks in terror of the loud noise.

The king does not flinch, but he does turn to Daemon, "visagon aōha dyni, valonqar!" Control your beast, (younger) brother.

Daemon calls out to Caraxes, ordering him to calm and obey. He soon is on the ground, marching towards his dragon's head, "gīda ilagon!" He raises his hands, "gīda ilagon." Calm down.

Caraxes huffs through his nostrils.

Aegon wails into your shoulder.

The dragon screeches again.

Daemon grits his teeth, looking over his shoulder. He turns to you then his brother, "visagon aōha tresy." Control your son.

Upon hearing this, you glare at Daemon, "he's just a babe!"

Caraxes bleats at the sound of your voice.

"Do not be so defensive. A babe's wailing is meant to be annoying," Daemon rebuts.

"Here," Alicent mutters, taking Aegon from you.

"Ali-"

"It's alright, sister," she turns to you, kissing her boy, "I can manage." She turns to Otto, "might I have your arm, father?"

Otto obliges.

The two walk off, enough that Caraxes was not so close. You can't help but glare at the beast, though you knew any irritation you had towards him was irrational, as he was just a dragon and Aegon was just a boy.

Caraxes cranes over to you again, letting out another loud noise.

Both Daemon and Viserys call out to the beast, expecting the worst from him. Even Arryk and Erryk, who was watched from afar, grip their swords involuntarily and find themselves stepping closer as Caraxes pushes his snout into you.

Caraxes does nothing perilous but does huff. Still, it garners a corrective command from his rider, who comes in front of you

The beast makes a displeased sound, baring his teeth, frightening Aegon yet again. The sound of the boy's cries make you snap, "lyka, Caraxes," you call out, "skoros gaomā?" Quiet, Caraxes. What are you doing?

Daemon turns to you then Caraxes, calling him to obey.

Viserys watches his brother gaze upon you. He watches Daemon take your hand and reach it out towards his ride. His lips part as Caraxes leans into your joined hands. He turns back to his wife and frowns at the sight of his red faced boy. It was clear Aegon was frightened for you with how he was reached his hand in your direction.

The king sighs and comes to him, taking the boy into his arms. Rhaenyra watches his father rock his half-brother. He watches the boy sigh into his arms. She looks away, focus back to Caraxes.

Daemon leans against Caraxes. He mutters softly to him as he presses your hand into the dragon's snout. The beast is finally calm. You feel the warmth of his scales and you wonder if he'd eat you now that you were no longer carrying his rider's children.

Daemon topples back as Caraxes pushes into him, hard enough to brush against you. You gasp when he nudges your chest.

Your husband recognizes the affection and finds himself unable to bridle his own. He pulls you into his chest, pretending it was out of concern— to keep you upright. He presses his arm against yours, his palm resting on the back of your hand. He links his fingers into yours and rests your joined hands atop Caraxes, whispering, "he missed you."

You chuckle, looking over your shoulder to Daemon, "that's not possible."

Daemon leans his forehead against yours and you immediately look away. Though the sentiment hurt, he looks back at his mount and persists, "yet it's true."

Caraxes huffs and begins to curl before you. He then lies down, shaking his head as he did.

Daemon's eyes turn to the pyre, throat tightening at the sight of the two small bodies, wrapped up in cloth. It was no longer white, as time brought a brownish hue to it.

You look at him when he withdraws his hand. You watch his jaw clench as he looks to the distance. You pull away to place a hand on his rib, "do you want to go closer?"

His hand comes atop yours. For a moment, you remember how he said he didn't want your touch, but instead of pushing you away, he squeezes you. His lowers his head and licks his lips, "I am unworthy."

You face him fully. You shake your head and fix his collar, "you are their father."

You entire body seems to react when he speaks your name. Your shoulders tense. Your breath hitches. Your eyes water.

He watches you intently. He takes your hands and clutches by his chest. He frowns and leans closer, daring to press his forehead into you again.

You let him. You close your eyes and let him press against you. Tears rush down your cheeks.

"Would they have liked me?" Daemon whispers.

You chuckle bitterly, eyes opening. You see that his face is just as teary as yours. You sniffle and shake your head, "the gods only know."

Daemon wipes his nose on his sleeve.

You both walk towards the pyre. Caraxes lifts his head to look down upon you. Daemon frowns when he sees just how tiny the bodies are. He notices then they smell like the oil you put on yourself, albeit mustier. He cares little about the unpleasant undertone and presses a kiss on both their bodies.

When he pulls away, he takes deep breath and mutters, "kepa iksis kesīr, Alaeric se Alyrie... shijetra nyke... geros ilas." Father is here, Alaeric and Alyrie... forgive me... good bye.

Daemon turns to you, his hold on you tightening, "gaomagon emā mirros naejot ivestragon?" Do you have anything to say?

You step forward, biting your lips as gaze upon your babes. You release Daemon, immediately bursting into tears. You reach out to them one last time, lips trembling, "I wish you knew how much I love you."

You nearly topple back as you pull away.

Daemon reaches for you, one hand on your arm, the other on your back. He rests his head on yours, his voice is pained as he mutters, "they know," he shakes his head and presses a kiss on your ear. He whispers, "everyone knows."

You crumble. You turn to him and sob into his chest.

He wraps his arms around you, stroking your hair. He calls out your name, "I'm here now."

You whine.

"It would take sword and flame to sever me from you."

When you were calm enough, Daemon leads you off. He is vigilant of his surroundings but more importantly, you. By the time you and him stand far away enough, Caraxes inspects the pyre before him. He sniffs it and shakes his head. He cranes his neck back, looking at his master. They share a silent understanding.

Daemon has his arm around you as you continue to weep into his chest. He rubs your shoulder, looking down upon you, "would you like to give the command?"

You sniffle and look up to him, "what?"

He turns to Caraxes, who is already stood in attention rather knowingly, "I think he would obey if you commanded."

You shake your head, turning to Caraxes, "I do not want to." You face the pyre, wiping your face, "I've given them their sorrowful beginning. I do not wish to give them their sorrowful end."

Daemon clenches his jaw, "very well." He rubs your shoulders, "when you're ready."

You sigh, leaning into him, "I will never be."

He does not reply. He does, however, squeeze your shoulders.

You turn to him, a line between your brows, "when you're ready, Daemon."

He turns to you just as you look forward. He sniffles and turns to his mount, "Caraxes."

Caraxes rumbles.

The prince takes a deep breath, eyes fixed upon his children, "dracarys."

You gasp at the burn of the flames. The fire is so bright, it's like the sun stops shining for a moment. It's fitting, for that is what it felt to lose them. Warmth cascades across the ground. Caraxes screeches upon finishing his task. Aegon weeps again.

Daemon takes you back to the Keep on dragonback. He is grateful you agreed, though he knows it was more because you felt too weak to walk, rather than the fact you wanted to keep his company.

When he arrives at the pit, Caraxes squawks in recognition of the dragon that seemed to have just arrived, judging by the amount of servants and dragon keepers around.

When you land, hear a voice call for you and you look, not recognizing the voice. Daemon does, just as he recognizes the dragon.

Daemon dismounts and helps you down. You hear your name called out again, "who-"

"Princess!"

Your lips part as you turn to see the young man running towards you. You recognize him solely from his hair, "Laenor?"

Daemon eyes the boy as he bows. He eyes the flowers in his hand. Quickly, his eyes are averted back to you when you begin to weep.

Laenor is mortified. He nearly drops the bouquet as he calls out your name.

"Forgive me," you wipe your face and shake your head, "it is good to see you," you say, breaking into a soft chuckle, "to finally meet you."

Laenor gives a half-hearted smile as he nods, "it is good to meet you, though... I hear you have just come from the pyre."

You sniffle and nod, linking your hands together, "yes... I... we-" you turn to Daemon, "put our children to rest."

Laenor nods slowly, looking between the two of you, "my deepest condolences princess, prince."

You turn to him, finding he was offering you pink flowers.

"Bougainvillea," says the young lord, "I thought to bring you flowers since you wrote of picking them oft."

Your lips wobble and you sob even more.

Daemon clenches his jaw, reaching out to you.

He doesn't reach you though, as soon, you've thrown yourself into Laenor's arms.

The Velaryon yelps in surprise but naturally returns your affections.

"Thank you," you mutter, squeezing him tightly.

He chuckles, matching the intensity of your embrace, "it's nothing really, I saw some on my way. I'm glad you appreciate it."

When you pull away, Laenor catches the withering glare Daemon was shooting his way. He widens his eyes, only because he dares not to roll them, then hands you the flowers.

You gratefully take them, "thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I wrote to you just this morn."

"Did you?" his brow quirks, "you might be glad to know you needn't do anymore."

Your brows furrow.

"I..." he smiles softly, "... am promised to Princess Rhaenyra."

Daemon's brow quirks.

"Oh," you mutter, "oh..." your lips wobble, "d-does that mean you will be staying here?"

Laenor chuckles, "yes, I-"

He grunts when you embrace him again.

Daemon looks away and scoffs.

"That's wonderful!" you sob, "oh, my dear Laenor."

Laenor chuckles as he pulls away, "surely mine own company is not so much a relief from my uncle's."

"Careful, boy," Daemon snaps, eyes narrowing, "I respect you, but that doesn't mean I like you."

Laenor's eyes widen again, "of course, uncle."

"In any case," you wipe your philtrum, "I am glad to have a friend."

Friend... I could be your friend, thinks Daemon.

Laenor nods, "as am I."

With that, Laenor walks off and you turn to the Bougainvilleas in your hands.

"You write to Laenor about flowers?"

You turn to Daemon, seeing him grind his teeth. You nod simply, "upon his request."

He opens his mouth but then shuts it. Would you have obliged himhis request if he ever wrote back to you? He banishes the thought and turns to the ground, "you should plant them."

Your brows quirk at the thought.

"Grow them in your garden," he turns around, walking back to Caraxes.

You watch him caress his dragon. You mutter to yourself, "that's not how that works."

You wait for him to finish doting on his ride. You stare at your flowers as you do so.

When Daemon turns back, he sees you gently caressing the pink buds. He imagines you doing the same to his cheeks and lips; it makes him rapidly shake his head and call your name.

You look up at him.

Daemon's lips are curved into a frown, "I do not keep you prisoner."

Your brows furrow, "what?'

He motions with his head, "go."

You turn to where he motioned, eyes immediately falling on Laenor. You look back at him, "I-"

"He's surely famished from a long ride," he slowly turns back to Caraxes, stroking his scales. The dragon huffs, lying down. "I doubt you've eaten yourself."

You stare at him, brows knitting together.

He turns back to you, "go to him. Be with your friend."

You pull your head back, "I-"

"I wish to clear my head," he pats Caraxes, "I'll do it in the sky."

Of course, what he really wanted was to find solace in your arms, but he tries to convince himself flying will be just as good. After all, that was how he calmed himself before... before you.

"I'll be back before dark," he mutters, walking off to mount Caraxes.

You watch him climb on his dragon's back. You watch him as he commands Caraxes to stand.

You nearly ask him to stay, but your memories convince you to do otherwise.

You gasp softly when Caraxes takes off.

[mightyostanes]

Why Jews Aren't "Trying to Trick G-d"

(Note only secondary sources are cited in the bibliography)

For my second post I had originally planned on writing something more fun but unfortunately, I feel the need to write this. Lately I’ve seen quite a few people on twitter saying that the way Jews interpret Halakah is that Jews are trying to trick G-d. While this is obviously a bad faith argument designed to be shitty, I still think this subject should be explained in greater detail. Mostly because I think there’s a fundamental disconnect in the way people imagine religions should interact with their deity and how Judaism has historically interacted with G-d. Furthermore, due to the Haskalah and Counter Haskalah I feel that a lot of these ideas have been lost to a lot of Jews in the English-speaking world. Replaced by Platonism that has much more in common with Philo and Maimonides then it does with anything the sages actually wrote or believed. Or to put it in much franker terms the toilet demon Rabba Bar Rav Huna mentioned in Gittin70:A6 probably wasn’t a metaphor. Instead, it seems incredibly likely that both he and Rabbi Tanhum Bar Tanilai believed in a literal Sheyd that lived in literal toilets no matter how embarrassing that sounds. 

    The reason this bizarre tangent is important is because if you actually look at the biblical, rabbinic, medieval, kabbalistic, and hasidic literature it utterly destroys the idea that the relationship of the Jew to G-d is of one sided kowtowing submission. Granted, it’s quite easy to interpret it that way but that’s mostly due to conditioning in terms of what people think a theistic religion should be about rather than any wiggle room in the texts themselves. In fact, I’d wager most arguments against this have more to do with people’s idea of the Tanakh than the Tanakh itself. 

      The biggest reason for this misunderstanding in my opinion is that very few people actually know what a covenant is let alone its context. To illustrate my point, I’d like you to think back on the last time you made a covenant with someone or something. Assuming you aren’t a ceremonial magician the answer to the question just posed is probably never. In the modern world covenant has become almost solely associated with the Bible and has almost no context. Especially because the idea of the ‘New Covenant’ talked about in the works of Paul the Apostle has very little to do with what covenants historically were. Rather than statements of blind faith, covenants in the Ancient Near East were more analogous to contracts and treaties. There are even some scholars who think that the covenantal theology in Deuteronomy may be based on Ancient Near Eastern vassal treaties. (1)

    In these treaties a bigger state or kingdom would make a treaty for a smaller kingdom to accept fealty to them. (1) In these treaties, at least in paper, rather than being a slave the ruler of the smaller nation was supposed to be a junior partner. Said vassals would also continue to be junior partners to the larger power if they held up the obligations given to them by the treaty. (1) Similarly, just as the smaller party holds obligations to the larger party the larger party also holds obligations to the smaller party. Including ostensibly having to listen to complaints or suggestions the smaller party made. 

   In the Tanakh or Five Books of Moses, there are exactly three covenants mentioned that occurred between G-d and humans. These three aforementioned covenants are the covenant with Noah and his descendants once the Ark lands, (Gen 8:20-9:13), The covenant for Abraham’s descendants where an unknown light phenomenon signifying G-d passes through Abraham’s sacrifice (Gen: 15), and the famous covenant between G-d and the Israelites on Mount Sinai (Exodus 19-24). Shortly after the establishment of both the Abrahamic and Mosaic Covenants G-d or an emissary of G-d appears and holds a banquet with the covenant members (Gen 18:1-10, Exodus 24:9-18). In the Ancient Near Eastern context that these texts were written in, banquets and feasts thrown by a king or senior covenant partner were incredibly important tools for control or consolidation. In both the Neo-Assyrian Empire and in the kingdom of Mari not only eating with the king but being at the table with him showed that you were considered as part of the king’s metaphorical family (2). These constructed family hierarchies would be clearly delineated by how close one sat to the king and how one sat, with the people right next to the king being seen as close immediate family members analogous to sons or younger brothers. In the two previously mentioned covenants the Elders of Israel and Abraham’s family sans Lot were sitting with G-d or his emissary suggesting an incredibly close relationship instead of merely that of master and servant. Especially as the angels or heavenly host were not seated ahead of the human participants at the metaphorical dinner table. 

          This idea of man as junior partner and consultant is also seen in the way that humans can critique, give advice to, or argue with G-d and G-d takes their words into consideration. A famous example of this post covenant is Abraham giving G-d suggestions on what to do with Sodom and Gomorrah and G-d accepting his input (Gen 18). An even more extreme example is in Exodus 32 when Moses actually argues with G-d and seemingly wins the argument thus saving the lives of the Hebrews. Similarly, complaints were by no means unknown by the rulers of vassal states to their overlords. The famous Amarna letters addressed by Egyptian allies and vassals to Pharaoh Akhenaten are filled with complaints and requests, with a few even being acknowledged (3). Considering that Pharaoh’s considered themselves living gods this just adds more background to the precedent of complaining towards, making suggestions to, or arguing with the divine.

    Beyond the kinship of all the community of Israel, and not just a singular son, with G-d there are also many notions that have to be cleared up in regard to humankind’s place in creation. A famous Midrash Tanhuma Tarzia 5 has a Roman Consul asking Rabbi Akiba why Jews circumcise male children when G-d has them born uncircumcised. In response Rabbi Akiba shows the consul grain, created by G-d and bread which is that same grain altered by man. Rabbi Akiba then asks the consul which one is better, before giving the obvious answer that most people prefer bread. This little story besides giving a philosophical explanation for circumcision also gives a good summary of the main ethos of Rabbinic Judaism. That G-d made the world unfinished so that mankind in general and Jews in particular could finish it. To establish the kingdom of heaven on earth rather than merely waiting for it. The translation of ‘Tikkun Olam’ as repairing the world was meant to be understood literally and not just as a metaphor for social justice.

    Lastly and perhaps most shocking to an Abrahamic Gentile reader, the G-d of Judaism was not traditionally portrayed as unchanging or infallible. The idea only gained traction in rabbinic Judaism after Maimonides inserted it into his theology after borrowing it from Aristotelian, Islamic, and Christian ideas in the 12th century. Historically the G-d of Judaism has been shown to change their mind, and according to Moshe Idel is even affected by theurgy (4). As evidenced by many stories in the Torah where G-d explicitly changes their mind on what they want to do. The mutability of G-d’s mind in terms of human prayer and action carries over to the realm of Halakhic interpretation assuming the other party has a good point. The most famous example of this rabbinical overturning G-d’s decree is in Baba Metzia 59B where Three Rabbis tell G-d that G-d and Rabbi Eliezer’s interpretation of a ruling regarding an oven is invalid. They achieve this by citing Deuteronomy 30:12, and Exodus 30:2 stating that the Law is not in heaven and is for the majority to decide its correct meaning. Instead of smiting the group of Rabbis G-d simply laughs stating that ‘My children have beaten me’. Indeed, the Great Maggid even goes as far as to say that G-d, like a parent teaching their child Torah, actually prefers a novel interpretation instead of just parroting the interpretation given by the parent (5).

           In Pauline Christianity Deuteronomy 30:12 which states, “The Law is not in Heaven” has been taken to mean that Halakah isn’t binding in the kingdom of heaven. However, the mainstream rabbinic interpretation means that only living humans can truly follow the Torah and perform Mitzvot to their fullest extent. In the Talmud in Shabbat 88B there is one of many Moses vs angels battles found throughout Jewish literature regarding whether humans should receive the Torah. Just like all of the other stories with this mytheme, Moses obviously wins this battle and takes the Torah to Israel. What makes this story different is that rather than using theurgy to bind the angels or just beating the tar out of them, Moses defeats them with a well-reasoned argument. I’ll let the passage I copied from Sefaria speak for itself.

     Moses said before Him: Master of the Universe, the Torah that You are giving me, what is written in it? God said to him: “I am the Lord your God Who brought you out of Egypt from the house of bondage” (Exodus 20:2). Moses said to the angels: Did you descend to Egypt? Were you enslaved to Pharaoh? Why should the Torah be yours? Again Moses asked: What else is written in it? God said to him: “You shall have no other gods before Me” (Exodus 20:3). Moses said to the angels: Do you dwell among the nations who worship idols that you require this special warning? Again Moses asked: What else is written in it? The Holy One, Blessed be He, said to him: “Remember the Shabbat day to sanctify it” (Exodus 20:8). Moses asked the angels: Do you perform labor that you require rest from it? Again Moses asked: What else is written in it? “Do not take the name of the Lord your God in vain” (Exodus 20:7), meaning that it is prohibited to swear falsely. Moses asked the angels: Do you conduct business with one another that may lead you to swear falsely? Again Moses asked: What else is written in it? The Holy One, Blessed be He, said to him: “Honor your father and your mother” (Exodus 20:12). Moses asked the angels: Do you have a father or a mother that would render the commandment to honor them relevant to you? Again Moses asked: What else is written in it? God said to him: “You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal” (Exodus 20:13) Moses asked the angels: Is there jealousy among you, or is there an evil inclination within you that would render these commandments relevant?

-Shabbat 88B (Babylonian Talmud)

       The Mitzvot, something occasionally seen as higher and holier than the immanent aspect of G-d (6) were meant to be performed solely by humans. Because just like the angels, G-d lacks many of these physical imperfections that give many of the Mitzvot any real weight. Therefore, as the ones who do the most mitzvot, how we interpret and follow them is fundamentally up to us.

    Admittedly I could go on and on about the theoretical frameworks behind the ideas. Such as the status of the Torah vis a vis the status of G-d, or the tradition of prayer as legal battle with the divine realm but that’d be a whole other bag of cats. One that’d probably take 20 pages to accurately give my thoughts, thoughts that would be at best heretical to at least a fair number of Jews. So instead let us end this here, there is no way for Jews to cheat Halakhah because it fundamentally belongs to the Jews. It is our burden that we have to bear and our most cherished treasure. Even if it did indeed come from G-d, like any gift the receiver usually is the actual owner and the one who decides what to do with it.

Citation List for non primary sources

Koller, Aaron. “Deuteronomy and Hittite Treaties.” Bible Interpretations , September 2014. https://bibleinterp.arizona.edu/articles/2014/09/kol388003. 

Milano, Lucio. “Naptan Ḫudûtu Aškun". Practice and Ideology of Neo-Assyrian Banquets.” Thesis, Storia Antica e Arceologico Ciclo , 2013.Section 3. Eating With The King: The Earthly Banquet. PG 60-80

Nutter, Nick. “How the Great Kings Managed Their Vassal States during the Bronze Age.” nuttersworld.com, August 15, 2024. https://nuttersworld.com/civilisations-that-collapsed/managing-vassal-states/. 

 Idel, Moshe. Middot: On the emergence of Kabbalistic Theosophies. Brooklyn, NY: KTAV Publishing House, 2021. 

Idel, Moshe. “The Son of God as a Righteous in Hasidism .” Chapter. In Ben: Sonship and Jewish Mysticism, 531–85. New York, NY: Continuum , n.d. 

6. Idel, Moshe. “The World Absorbing Text.” Chapter. In Absorbing Perfections Kabbalah and Interpretation, 26–45. New Haven, Connecticut : Yale University Press, 2002

[call-me-lemon]

Fuck it ill answer all of them in order

01: hah, no.

02: my cat

03: yup

04: Oh, very

05: Single

06: Im not picky

07: One single buttery round cracker

08: hah, no.

09: not anymore

10: hmm.. has to be several years ago now

11: yup.

12: Longer, even, just to prove that I could.

13: I hate several people.

14: I miss everyone.

15: Several!

16: My stomach hurts but my spirits are high. Im being very brave.

17: nope

18: Not as much as I used to be, but yes.

19: Nah, im good how I am. Things happened how they happened and theyre going to keep happening, so theres no point in meddling.

20: never snogged a day in my life

21: Exist and find joy in the moment. I never plan anything.

22: Nope

23: Nope, I only wear clipons.

24: uhhhh being gay.

25: A few, yes. My friends from elementary school (Primary for the brits)

26: Im not craving anything at the moment

27: I cant imagine so, im not desirable.

28: I can imagine so. My first bf was always flirtimg with anoother guy in front of me and when I told him it made me uncomfortable he just said "Dont worry about it" and we never spoke of it again. I think that counts.

29: Cannot confirm or deny, but its likely.

30: My feet kind of hurt.

31: I hope so.

32: Yellow. Pastel yellow, specifically.

33: Who can say for sure. I cant self-diagnose that kind of thing.

34: Trying to kill my mom in a fit of rage, but nothing I did had any effect on her and she talked down to me the entire time which only made the fit worse.

35: I dont remember.

36: Maybe. I dont like holding grudges, too much effort on my end.

37: for me, forget.

38: Who knows, its barely started.

39: probably either teen or preteen.

40: No.

51: (Fuck it ig we doing 50s now) Fetucinni alfredo

52: Probably not any reason higher than just the way the world is. There is no divine purpose and life is what you make of it.

53: I took my cat to the bathroom and gave her a piggy-back ride back into my room as was her will.

54: Nothing is black and white, but you'd better have a damn good reason or you get put into the pit.

55: Oh, very.

56: Like one or two at most and I did not do well.

57: Nope. In fact, I dislike the idea of having this one true love tied to you by fate. It takes all the choice out of the relationship. Either be with someone the strings of time have chosen for you, or be alone forever. Thats horrifying.

58: Snow and rain. Makes me sleepy

59: Love it.

60: I dont really care either way

61: Nope. I dislike that pet name even tho I use it personally for my cats, but it feels a little bit to demeaning to be used for a lover since in my experience its always been used from a position of power.

62: Living and being free to live.

63: I dont really like my name but I dont have anything I actually do like to change it to. I guess I just dont like being percieved.

64: I would rather kill myself actually.

65: God, I wish.

66: yes. Mostly. For the most part.

67: hermm... The owner of a warrior cats long term rp server.

68: I dont remember, I tend to say extremely deep sounding things at random. Im the stupidest bitch alive but it lets me spout sage wisdom once in a while.

69: No. Love is what you make of it.

70: I would die or kill for anyone I actually care about no questions asked.

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 15

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

A/N: Idk if anyone else's seasonal depression is hitting them harder at the moment but man is mine kicking my ass right now. But I finally managed to get this written so hopefully it isn't shit. I'm just happy to always get notifications of new people reading this and wanting me to still continue so I know my writing isn't completely trash at least. Enjoy!

Chapter 15

Jeongin and Hyunjin rush into the Omega’s room seeing her curled up to Seungmin before both of them jump on the bed.

“Wake up.” Jeongin says in a sing-song voice as he cuddles up to Y/n and Hyunjin puts his whole weight on Seungmin. 

“Get off you pabo.” Seungmin groans, pushing the older beta off of him, causing Hyunjin to land between Y/n and Seungmin.

“Innie.” Y/n groans. 

“What time is it anyways?” Seungmin leans over to look at his phone on the nightstand. “What’s got you guys up so early? Hyunjin is never up willingly before ten.”

“We’re doing our beach day today.” Jeongin beams looking at the two. “Felix and Jisung are waking Minho and Channie hyungs up right now.”

“Changbin just got back from the gym and is in the shower.” 

“You get to wear your new swimsuit. Ow.” Hyunjin glares at Seungmin who pinched  his side.

The omega blushes turning away from the two betas, not sure how to feel about wearing the swimsuit in front of all of them. 

“Jagiya.” Jeongin leans over Y/n, tilting his head to the side. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, it’s just us.”

“That’s exactly why she’s embarrassed.” Seungmin pushes the younger one over to lay back on the bed. “All of you are nothing but horny males.” 

“You say that as if you aren’t a horny male yourself.” Hyunjin tackles Seungmin to the floor and they start wrestling. 

Jeongin pulls the omega to his chest as they watch the two tumble with each other.

“What’s going on in here?” Felix’s eyes widen as he walks in with Chan. 

“Alright, break it up.” Chan bends down to separate the two beta’s but Hyunjin pounces on him. “So the pups wanna play huh?” Chan looks up at Hyunjin before flipping them over, pinning the younger male under him until Seungmin jumps him, tackling the alpha to the ground.

“You’re getting slow old man.”

Felix quickly joins Y/n and Jeongin on the bed taking notice of the glint in the youngest alpha’s eyes and takes the girl from him.

“Join them.” Felix nudges him, making Jeongin look at him unsure. “Go on, I’ve got our girl.”

Jeongin takes a second looking at both of the omegas before smiling and jumps off the bed onto his alpha’s back.

“Ah, Innie, claws.” Chan groans in pain.

“You like it when I claw you.” Jeongin huffs as Chan shrugs him off of his back before suddenly Hyunjin tackles the youngest. 

Changbin, Minho and Jisung step into the doorway to see what's going on, shaking their heads at the antics going on. It’s when Seungmin bites Chan that the alpha has enough and picks up the youngest beta.

“Put me down, old man.” Seungmin squirms.

“Who’s your alpha?”

“Fuck off, I’m not saying it.”

Minho and Changbin quickly grab the omegas off the bed just before Chan flings Seungmin on it, pinning him down.

“Yah, careful.” Minho shouts. 

“Sorry babies.” Chan turns to the two in the other two alpha’s arms.

“Bin, help me.” Seungmin tries to fight Chan’s hold on him.

“You got yourselves into this.” Changbin holds Y/n closer to his chest as Minho has Felix and Jisung leaning against him.

“You know how to get hyung to stop, just say it.” Jisungs smiles.

“Yeah pup, just say it.” Chan beams down at the beta. 

“Not happening.” Seungmin continues to struggle until both Hyunjin and Jeongin fling themselves at the alpha making them all roll off the other side of the bed. 

Y/n flinches at the thud heard from the three of them hitting the ground. She tries to move forward to maybe try and stop them but Changbin holds her in place.

“They’re okay, pretty girl.”

“Trust us kitten, it’s better not to get involved.” Minho holds Felix and Jisung close to them as they had tensed up too at the thud.

“How did this become you three against me?” Chan huffs as he stands with Jeongin locked in his arms and Hyunjin on his back. “I was only trying to separate two of you originally.”

“I couldn’t help but to join.” Jeongin tilts his head innocently. 

Chan lets go of the youngest before throwing Hyunjin off his back and onto the bed next to Seungmin.

“Who’s your alpha?”

Hyunjin looks up at him with an evil grin. “Jeongin.”

“Wrong answer.” Chan growls leaning down to bite the beta’s shoulder.

“And that’s our queue to leave.” Changbin turns Y/n away from the room, Minho doing the same with Jisung and Felix. 

“Does that happen a lot?” The omega asks as she’s led to the kitchen. 

“With them. Yeah.” Minho starts making an easy breakfast. “Innies still a new alpha so the pup likes to play, especially if it’s ‘challenging’ our alpha.”

“The betas just like ruffling some feathers.” Changbin laughs. “Occasionally Lixie and Ji do it too.”

Seungmin walks in smiling. “Hyunjins getting his ass handed to him by both alphas.” 

“He knew better.” Jisung shakes his head. 

“I don’t know why you’re so smug, pup.” Changbin grabs the beta’s arm. “You weren’t any better.”

Seungmin looks up at the older male and gulps.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n stands hugging herself as she watches the boys all running around the beach getting umbrellas, towels and beach chairs set up. Hyunjin and Felix have already run out into the water ignoring Chan’s calls to put on sunscreen first. 

She manages to stay unnoticed for a while until all of them get in the water, playing and swimming. Well almost all of them. Minho sits in a beach chair watching her behind his sunglasses as she stands there watching her pack, still wearing her coverup over her swimsuit.

“Y/n.” She jumps when he calls her name and turns to look at him.

The alpha motions for her to join which she hesitates before walking over to the chair where he grabs her waist and pulls her onto his lap.

“Yeah?”

“You look uncomfortable.” He looks over her closely. “Talk to me. Tell me what's going on in that pretty little mind of yours.”

She manages to smile as he taps her head and she playfully pushes his hand away. 

“It’s just… I haven’t worn a swimsuit since I was a kid.” She whispers looking away from him back at the rest of the boys in the water.

“You’re safe with us kitten.” Minho turns her face to look back at him. “It’s just us here so you won’t be harassed like you would be being an omega at a public beach.” He cups her cheek and she leans into his touch. “Besides, you didn’t seem to feel that way the other night when you went skinny dipping with Lixie.”

“That was different.” She rolls her eyes and resituates herself on his lap causing him to grip her hips. “Felix is practically another omega, he’s comforting to be with. And it’s not like I see you with your shirt off joining the others.”

“I don’t like water.” He pinches her hip but then gets an idea. “How about this baby, you take your coverup off and quit being insecure and I’ll join you in getting in the water.”

Y/n looks at him in disbelief. “Did you really just tell me to quit being insecure?”

“Yes, I did.” He places a finger under her chin. “Because you are beautiful and there is nothing for you to be insecure about. We love you how you are.”

“Thanks Min.” She smiles down at him and his hands move to the bottom of her coverup.

“Can I take this off now?” 

The omega nods and he pulls the coverup off her and over her head. He takes in the swim shorts and tankini top she’s wearing as he caresses her sides. “My beautiful girl.”

“Wanna go get in the water now?”

“Let’s go kitten.” He lifts her off his lap placing her on the sand before he gets up, pulling his shirt off, grabbing her hand. 

He drags her along the beach towards the water but stops just where the sand is wet from the waves. The others take notice of this and Chan and Changbin move, Chan running, before picking Minho up and carrying him into the water. 

“Chan put me down.” 

“Are you sure you want that?” The older alpha asks as he walks them deeper into the water.

“Binnie.” Y/n squeals as Changbin picks her up and follows the other two alphas. 

Chan drops Minho into the water causing the male to freak out a little and Y/n holds onto Changbin scared he’ll drop her in the water too.

“Relax, pretty girl.” He kisses her head. “I’m not letting go unless you ask me to.”

The omega relaxes in his arms as they walk deeper into the water. Once the water reaches up to their chests she readjust herself, wrapping her legs around his waist and arms around his neck as he holds her thighs. 

“Hi angel.” Jisung comes up to the two, happy to see her in the water.

“Wanna learn to swim princess?” Hyunjin swims over with Felix.

“Umm...” Y/n looks around at everyone.

Jeongin and Seungmin have joined Chan and Minho now. Chan holding the other alpha while the two pups are splashing them.

“I promise that none of us will let you drown.” Changbin squeezed her a little.

“Yeah, Channie, Hyun and I are all really good swimmers.” Felix reassures his fellow omega. “We’ll teach you properly. And you have all eight of us watching over you and will save you if you need it.”

“Seven.” Hyunjin corrects him as he looks over at Minho who's clinging onto their pack alpha. “Min won’t be saving anyone in the water.”

“I’ll go get one of the floaty rings for him.” Jisung starts to head back to shore.

“Get both so Y/n can have one too.” Changbin calls out before looking at said girl again. “So what do you say Y/nnie? Will you let us teach you?”

“I guess.”

Felix, Chan and Hyunjin made work on teaching Y/n how to swim, and also attempting to teach Minho, again. The other four were always close by in case she needed to cling on to one of them. Which it wasn’t until late evening when she finally stopped latching on to one of the boys or the floaty and actually swam a little by herself. It was only a few feet between Hyunjin and Felix but she did it without clinging onto Chan who stayed next to her the whole time, just in case she needed him.

“That was great, babygirl.” Chan praises once Felix grabs her into his arms. “Now go back to Jinnie.”

Felix helps push her towards the beta and she swims, more like doggy paddles, to Hyunjin who continues to back away a little so she has to swim farther but eventually lets her catch him when he notices her start to panic a little and almost grabs onto Chan again.

“Good job princess.” Hyunjin holds her close. “When we get back home we should do a pool day at least once a week so you can get better.”

“Don’t expect me to partake in those lessons.” Minho calls out from where he rests on the floaty, Jisung also somewhat laying on it.

“Hyung, you have to learn to swim eventually.” Jeongin pokes the alpha.

“I don’t have to do anything, pup.”

______________________________________________________________

Taglist will be close for now as I'm not able to tag more people for some reason

Tag list: @pixie0627 @sinfulfic @estella-novella @mbioooo0000 @ms-flowergirl

@blindspot143 @ihrtlix @arishoriasims @fic-for-readers @motheraiya55

@hwangrfrnd @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @juskz @borahae-reads @dreamerwasfound

@galaxy4489 @kayleefriedchicken @lostgirlinthewoodss @catkight @royal-shinigami

@notevenheretbh1 @passionandsuga @m00njinnie @sukss @n1nme4r

@blueberrydish @xxeiraxx @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @aalexyuuuhm @kaleigh-2002

@btskzfav @hyunmikim @ot8girlfie @sillygoosegoose @tr0p1cal

@eastjonowhere @hime-honne @furfoxsake22 @luvlino23 @iknow-uknow-leeknow

@im-sinking-in-mud @fiest4plum @forevermoremagcon @comicnerd557 @nchhuhi

@alyxcatspost @danceonmyheyday @maisyyyyyy @shycreationdreamland @chanshugsaretherapy

@mo0n13 @yumuramma @nuggiesnuggetdog04 @idkwhoisthis1971 @violet-hatake

[bellamoooon]

A/N: So…Patrick’s sister, this was supposed to be shorter but I uh…I got carried away, enjoy anyway!! <33

As patricks sister, you always understood the dynamic; Patrick is the overprotective annoying older brother and you are the nerdy—he says— younger sister.

So obviously, growing up with him was an interesting experience to say the least.

Before going to MRTA, he’d usually bring his friends over after school, and of course you being the pretty little thing you are, they’d always joke around about how Patrick’s sister was hot, (literally average twelve year old when they see any female) and well Patrick, Patrick was pissed, so this is when the golden rule—he calls it— came in.

Patrick’s sister is off-limits.

Which eventually stopped being a big deal when he left for MRTA, since you’d only see him for holidays and breaks, and you didn’t really get to meet any of his friends.

Then Art comes into Patrick’s life; Bunkmates since they were twelve, both in their first year away from home.

For the first summer break, Patrick left to go to your family’s lake house with you and your parents, and Art went back home to visit his nana, he knew his parents would most likely be away working—as per usual.

But he actually finds out that his nana had already been sent to a retirement home 15 minutes out of his home town, so he visited every couple of days during that summer even though his nana kept telling him, “Artie, you don’t have to visit an antique like me, go be a kid, enjoy your summer” however he insisted in staying around her to keep company.

So when they get back, Patrick “loud mouth” Zweig rants to Art about his summer, and Art simply nods thinking about how he’d most likely stay in the academy next summer, not like he had much to go back to at home.

Fast forward a couple of months, it’s Christmas; Art is helping Patrick pack last minute when there’s a knock at the door, then they hear a feminine voice.

“Come on dickwad, mom and dad are waiting in the car”

Patrick groaned as he started to shove his things into his bag, then looking back at art as he folded some of Patrick’s shirts.

“Hey, Donaldson, mind getting the door? It’s my fuck ass sister” he said casually as he grabbed the shirts from Art.

“Sure” Art mumbled not thinking much, only trying to imagine a female Patrick behind the door, seeing as he’s never met you, so there he goes, he opens the door and finds—not a female Patrick— but the prettiest girl he’d seen just standings there in the most angelic way.

“Hey…?”

“Art, it’s uh— my name is Art” he’s stumbling over his own words in the stupidest way possible.

“What kind of name is Art? Are you like an Arthur or something?” He cringes internally but before he can answer Patrick pushes past him.

“It’s just Art, leave him alone, he’s my best friend, only I can make fun of him, find one yourself, kid” Patrick speaks as he walks out the door with his things then turns to Art, “going home for Christmas, Donny?”

Art despised that nickname, the tips of his ears went red as his whole face flushed, but he shook his head.

“My parents said they won’t be able to make for Christmas and I— I don’t want to worry my nana so…” he said shyly and a bit disappointed but, they were the same parents that had forgotten his birthday a year ago and days later brought a cake that said “happy 14th birthday” when he was turning 12.

“Awe…that sucks man, I’ll talk to my parents, you can tag along with us to our lake house next summer”

And that’s how the tradition all started, every summer, Art would spend it with Patrick’s parents, you and Patrick at the lake house, which gave him enough time to catch a little something his nana called a Lovebug, essentially, his was crushing hard.

But of course, there was the golden rule— totally off-limits.

And Art was…fine with it, it’s not like you’d ever like him back, he was probably just “Patrick’s quiet best friend” to you.

Little did he know…

Then fast forward a couple years later, coincidentally, you would also be going to Stanford without actually knowing Art had already been there for a year.

And Stanford was full of frat parties, Halloween costume parties and in general, any party within a 10 mile radius.

And you, pretty little freshman had been invited to a frat party by one of the juniors in your econ class, and I mean, you can’t be rude, right? You have to go.

So, you do.

You wind up in a frat house with a shit ton of people, some cigarette smoke and, a whole bunch of red disposable cups, so why not grab one, what’s the worst thing it could have in it, beer probably?

Wrong.

Something that to you tasted exactly what rubbing alcohol smelled like, so it goes straight from the cup to your mouth then back to the cup as you cringe letting out a single dry cough.

“You alright there?” A gentle voice popped up from behind you, familiar but you couldn’t quite tell, but as you turn there he is; Art fucking Donaldson. With a backwards red Stanford cap and a grey Stanford hoodie.

Oh.

“Oh— Art…hey” you chuckle softly still smelling the mysterious alcohol from your mouth.

“This isn’t quite your scene, huh?” He spoke as he took a sip from his cup with that goddamn side smirk of his.

“Yeah— no, I mean, I’ve been to parties, fun, fun parties. And this, this is so my scene” you rambled nervously, it was already embarrassing enough you, a freshman was at a frat party with a pretty floral skirt and a crochet sweater.

“Really? Oh…then have fun, fun girl” he laughed as he lifted his cup a bit towards you to then walk away.

Fuck it. You were gonna get wasted.

And so, that you did; Somehow ending up in just a soaked tank top, a soaked skirt, hair dripping water and, squeaky wet shoes as you stumbled out of the pool from the backyard.

“Hey, watch it—“ Art turned as he felt your body bump against his, “oh it’s you, fun girl.” He giggled as he saw you, clearly too drunk to even know what was going on, and he could’ve just laugh it off and get back to the party, but Art wasn’t like that, and specially not to you, you’re such a pretty little thing all wasted and soaked past midnight, plus, you were Patrick’s sister. He had to.

So he said his goodbyes and grabbed you as you both walked out of the frat to go back to campus.

“So tell me, miss Zweig, how does one, as drunk as you, not drown in a pool?” He said as he saw you hold onto his arm for dear life trying not to trip, which might have just dug up something he had buried years ago.

“Y’know, im fun, and this is so my people” you said looking up at him—just barely— as you let out a hiccup.

He blushed as he heard it, clearly it was your first time getting drunk drunk, adding on to the wet hair and your shivering body,

“Right, fun girl, my bad” he chuckled “come on you’re shivering, here” he pulled his hoodie off as he handed it to you, “can’t let you catch a cold, how else will you go to your next party, miss fun girl”

“Thank you, Artie.” You said as you grabbed the hoodie sliding it over your head feeling the warmth it carried from Arts body, accompanied by the faint smell of his cologne.

Meanwhile, Art was feeling like his spine had just been ripped out; Artie.

You hadn’t called him that since the summers at the lake house, where he had attempted and failed to forget his crush on you.

“Yeah— I uh…yeah” he blushed even harder as he fumbled his words not knowing how to react.

You just shut your eyes and breathed in the scent of his cologne to then open them up, there you were, doe eyed looking at him, in his hoodie, hair soaked as you unconsciously made it harder for him to be a good friend to Patrick, he felt horrible.

Not only did the disgusting thought of wanting to fuck you against his jeep popped into his head, this is Patrick’s sister he’s fantasizing about.

“Come on— I uh, I gotta get you back on campus” he cleared his throat as he looked away avoiding your stare.

“You’re no fun anymore, Artie…” a pout made itself present as you took a step closer, your hands landing on his shoulders, “come on, Donny…”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Patrick would kill me, you know that.”

“I won’t tell”

He wasn’t proud of himself for turning back to look at you, but you were just so pretty, lucky he didn’t have a boner, if he hadn’t given you the hoodie to cover your very visible nipples against the tank top, he’d probably have you bent over his cars hood.

“I really— I can’t…” he mumbled, his face inches away from yours, noses brushing against each other.

“You sure?” You whispered as you stared down at his lips, “not just this once?”

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, well…there goes his willpower, he was in too deep already.

Next thing he knows, you’re riding him in the backseat of his car, all flushed, tits out, him whimpering as he dug his fingers into your hips holding on for dear life throwing his head back, and windows all fogged up.

Yeah, he was so screwed.

He will most definitely be breaking the golden rule for…well, let’s just say it’s not a one time thing.

[sbeep]

Can you talk more about your lore/history of Evaric and his brothers. Every time you post a new character I become obsessed, your art brings me immense joy.

You're very kind, I sure can! They're D&D/Forgotten Realms OCs I made for fun and RP.

The brothers are from Espar in Cormyr and they're the sons of Alice, a farrier.

Evaric was sent to train as a paladin at age 13 at the closest temple to Lathander, the House of the Morning. He refused his holy oath, dodged conscription and left the country at age 20.

Cohle is a sorcerer who won't say two words if one unequivocal action will do.

William, nicknamed Billhook/Bill is a knave and a thief through and through

Deor is a forester and painfully responsible homebody.

They do not! Evaric, Cohle and William (Alice is fairly sure) are the sons of Alice's first husband, a thoroughly horrible man whose leg she broke with a forge hammer and kicked out of town.

Deor is her son by an elven druid who came back to Espar when Alice was free to be with him and she has settled down to a much happier second marriage.

Assorted other tidbits:

Alice's first husband tried to come back when his sons were grown but Cohle dealt with him before he could ruin Alice's happiness. Only Deor knows this.

William is the only one of the brothers who can't use magic. Cohle bullies him about it mercilessly.

Cohle apprenticed at Candlekeep, Faerun's biggest repository of knowledge.

Evaric has travelled the world and plans to see more of it, he's not yet returned to Cormyr in the 15 years since he left.

Deor is the shortest of the brothers but he's also the best shot so anyone who stoops to a joke about it gets something whipped at their head.

Cohle and Evaric used to be incredibly close but Cohle ruined it. He knows what he did.

[maryellencarter]

"and play a lot of video games" you know, I watch some video game Youtubers who are full-time streamers or video makers, that's how they make their living. Something that strikes me about the ones I watch is how welcoming they are to newbies who'd like to do what they do -- speedrunning, or bingo races, or challenge running or what have you. This is skewed, of course, because I'm generally looking for people who *are* like that, but it's still... they'd love to have more people involved, a bigger community of players doing what they love.

And I always think about, well, what if we could all do what we love without having to sell our souls to pay the bills? Because that's what UBI is about. What if people *could* sit around playing video games all day? We can see right now what that would be like, on a small scale, and the answer is "they'd put absurd amounts of effort in".

Take just one example. Breath of the Wild is famous for how fast it can be speedrun. The top BotW runner in the world, one Player5, streams five days a week, often for more than eight hours a day -- practicing frame-perfect inputs with the dedication of a professional piano player doing scales, testing out new strategies to see if they're consistent enough to use, and repeating the same runs over and over to shave off seconds. All while chatting with his viewers and making videos on how to do the glitches and run routes he shows off.

He recently became the first person to hold every main category of BotW world record at the same time, from any% (well under half an hour) to 100% (almost 15 hours). People will become experts at *anything* if you give them the freedom to do so. Dismissing a category of Things People Do as worthless or "lazy" says a lot more about the self-righteous asshats doing the dismissing than it does about the people who do that thing.

Of course, if we had UBI, not everyone who'd play video games all day would become a top speedrunner. But Player5 got into speedrunning in 2020, because the lockdown gave him the free time to try it out. If we all had the time and freedom to get into things that wouldn't necessarily make us money, we'd find out we had talents we've never even considered, or maybe we'd get to exercise talents we've stifled because we can't live off them. It would be a more artistic, more exploratory world.

My least favorite things about anti- UBI discourse is always the techbros whining that "nobody is going to work anymore! People will just watch Netflix all day!" and I have 2 responses:

1) Who the fuck cares. Who the fuck cares what people do with their time! That's kind of the fucking point!

2) People aren't going to stop laboring. Housework (look, it's right there in the word!) will still need to be done. So will maintenance on our homes and personal spaces. Children will still need carers, as will the elderly and disabled. There are millions of examples of ~work~ that we do all the time, uncompensated, that won't suddenly stop because we aren't forced to sell our labor to provide corporation's profits.

I'm not surprised that what is traditionally women's work is invisible to these dipshits, but it never fails to anger me.

Anyway. Join the IWW.

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 21

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17 • Part 18 • Part 19 • Part 20

• ··········· • ············ •

The night was bright, the moon and the stars illuminating the room at the Academy you were now standing in. You were sitting on a wheely bench, swaying from side to side, your fancy attire contrasting with the uniformed man sitting beside you. 

The blackboard in front of you was filled with a familiar chicken scratch. You grinned at it. Man is a genius, but gods forbid he wrote anything legible. There was a 3D schematic next to the list. 

"What was that shape again?" You asked, smiling mischievously, and heard the Zaunite scientist chuckle low after sighing.

"It is a dodecahedron."

"Say it again."

He snorted, looked you dead in the eye, and said it again, accentuating every syllable.

"Do-de-ca-he-dron."

"Sounds much better when you say it." You winked and saw his face redden quickly. It was cute, and you had recently found you enjoyed his cuteness. You wanted to pull this side of him out more.

You’d met a while ago; you being one of Jayce’s old friends, he took no time to introduce you to his new lab partner. And you two took no time in becoming entangled. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the attraction was there.

Looking away from the man, you studied the blackboard. Your head tilted to the side, your perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowing in curiosity.

You’d been drawn to it as soon as you entered the dark Tallis Lab. The dinner at the mansion had become boring, and you'd decided to disrupt Viktor's evening with your presence. Not that he minded; at least it wasn't what his tired smile told you when he opened the door to the lab to find you there, staring with an overly innocent smile on your face.

He had invited you in and told you to wait for a couple of minutes until he was done with his work. That had been an hour and a half ago, and at some point, he stopped apologizing.

And now here you were, hypnotically staring into a badly erased blackboard, with something written on it and a schematic that did nothing but fill you with curiosity. So much so that you got up from your seat next to Viktor to stand in front of it.

“It is not a painting in a museum, you know.” His voice came from behind you, the telltale sounds of him getting up and walking toward you loud in the empty lab.

"I do have to find something to do while waiting for a certain Undercity scientist to find out I'm waiting on him." You bit back at him and heard him chuckle as he limped towards you. “Besides, exactly how many museums have you ever visited?”

His hand snaked around your waist and stayed there, pulling you gently into him. You felt the scent of oil, parchment, and coffee coming out of him along with a smile on his lips as he breathed you in and nuzzled up to your neck, the ghost of a kiss near your ear making you smile.

"Maybe you'd like to take me to some sometime."

"Sure, should I schedule that before or after your 24-hour shift in the lab?" You looked sideways at him, and he shook his head; a tired sigh was the only thing that came out of him, though.

“What is it anyway?” You felt him place his chin on your shoulders, and you grabbed his forearm, making soft circles on his skin. “Not the shape…the whole thing.”

“The core facets of the arcane.” He simply hummed, his fingers drawing lazily, stroking your waist as he swayed you both gently from side to side. “It is for a project I’m working on. But most of these we add to the hex gems for them to work.”

"And what is this project you are working on?" He shrugged.

"I cannot say. If it all goes well, it can change everything."

"Everything?" He nodded confidently. "Well, reaching for the stars, aren't we?"

"Well, funny enough, one of those symbols is for the moon." He traced a symbol in the air, and you realized that the bullets from the bullet list were, in fact, symbols. 

“You need to get better at writing so that someone else can read it.” You squinted at the blackboard.

“Jayce can read it, and that's all that matters.” You felt him shrug nonchalantly.

If Viktor's words were a pain to read, the smaller scratches next to them were downright impossible to decipher. 

“What are they? The facets I mean.”

He straightened up but didn’t move, only adjusting his crutch and his grip on you to find a good position. The back of your head rested against his chest, and you felt his slow breathing.

“The first are the natural facets: air, earth, fire, and water. Then the heavenly bodies: the moon and the sun. And then the forces of magic: chaos and order.”

“That’s eight of them. The dodecahedron has twelve sides. You finished the question with a kiss on his jaw. 

“We are still trying to figure out the rest.”

“I guess you two have to do something inside this big room to warrant the absurd amount of money you are being given by the Academy.” You joked and looked at him as his eyes dropped to you disapprovingly. “I’m joking. Tell me more.”

“We have come to some conclusions.” He started, his voice becoming animated. “For example, magic in itself cannot kill or give life, because you cannot kill a rock or bring a rock to life. But if certain sediments find themselves in the right order, a rock can be created, the same way that if something chaotic happens in the process, the rock may not be a rock at all. It becomes corrupt.”

“Are we bribing a rock now?” You joked, and he moved his fingers on your waist, tickling you and making you shriek.

“Not that type of corruption. Think of it as any condition that can deteriorate something.”

“Why aren’t those two in there? Create and corrupt?”

“Chaos and order…”

“No…” you argued, lifting a finger to shush him. “Chaos and order are different things. Chaos doesn’t necessarily corrupt, and order doesn’t create. You can create through chaos and corrupt through order.”

Viktor stayed silent for a while, biting the inside of his cheek in contemplation. After a few minutes, he disentangled himself from you, and an impressed expression showed on his face, which you returned with a smug one. He walked over to the board and wrote what you assume were those two words with white chalk.

“If we add corruption as something that deteriorates…then we must add what deteriorates the most.” He pointed the chalk to you, and you raised your eyebrows. “Time.”

“If you add time, you might as well add space. Like... physical space... distances, dimensions, measurements, and whatnot.” You walked over to him, grabbed the chalk, and added your suggestion. "If you physically place a rock in a location with the right conditions, it can become a pebble."

“I’ll make a scientist out of you someday.” He grabbed your hand and placed the chalk on its little sill under the board.

“Yuck.” You grimaced dramatically. “And be stuck in this dark hole with y’all without getting the chance to leave whenever I want? Blah... thanks, I’ll pass.”

“I could make your time spent in this lab very much worth it." He took a small step towards you. "After hours, that is…”

You raised an eyebrow at his forwardness. This whole thing between you two was weeks long, and although Viktor's demeanor was a little cold and collected most of the time, he liked to throw these jabs just to see your reaction. 

“Why spend that time at the lab when there's a perfectly good mansion?” You grinned, and he rolled his eyes jokingly.

Viktor’s cold hands came up to your face and held it, gently looking into your eyes with a loopy, tired smile, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones. He moved a piece of hair from your forehead, gently caressed the space between your brows, and placed a kiss there. 

“What if it is just a little bedroom over at the Academy dorms?” He whispered into your ear, and you smiled, moving so you could look at him.

“It'll do, I guess...” You joked, and he laughed, grabbing your hand and moving you towards the workstation. 

You saw him go around the lab turning machines off, placing schematics in drawers. He grabbed his satchel and placed a couple of those in there with his notebook and pencil.

Before walking out the door, you looked back at the board, still curious about that subject. Your neat handwriting in the middle of Viktor's.

'Space'

"Are you hearing me?" Viktor asked, snapping you out of your reverie.

"No... I never do really. I'm just here for the pretty face." He blushed and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the lab, already rambling about the hexgate inauguration and how much he didn’t want to go.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies @iamfandomnerd

[spencewalterreid]

The Red Means I Love You

Summary: Spencer came into the restaurant you work at when you were in a bad mood, but nonetheless he has to see you again.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female First-person POV

Category: Fade to Black Smut (TV-14)

Warnings: dirty talk, switch!Reid!!! switch!Reader, first person pronouns no use of y/n, date nights,hair pulling, neeeerd spencer, reader works at a truck stop, fade to black smut, smooches, second base. I think that should be it?

Word count: 4.3k

Author's Note: Hello again ladies!! I'm not sure how I haven't yet come across a riff fic off of Spencer and Cat's scenes, but here it is!! Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying they were a good pair, but the way their characters played off of one another was positively scrumptious. Here's an indulgence into that.

The first time it happened, I was working a 14-hour shift at a truck stop diner. I’d started my shift right out of school, and I was working until the next morning. Just an hour before he’d come in, we were slammed – every table in the store was full, and I’d only just gotten all the tables bussed. I was exhausted, my manager was hounding me, and I was on the verge of a full-blown breakdown. When refilling a Dr. Pepper for the jackass at table 32 who I had to argue with over the burger that he specifically requested onions on, I glanced up at the door as the bells rang. Oh.

He is... stunning.

My attention was abruptly yanked out of my daydream about the gorgeous boy that had just walked in with a handful of other people, and I looked down at my right hand wrapped around the plastic cup, which is now cold and drenched in the sticky beverage. Goddamn it.

“Boys, are you dining in?” I asked cheerfully as I grabbed a new straw, a smile plastered across my face. Stay professional. Stay professional. Stay professional.

“Yeah, we’ve got–” he paused to turn around and count heads– “six,” said one of the three men. Not the pretty one, though he was by no means ugly. He was tall, but not the tallest of the group (that title belonged to the one that caught my eye), with broad muscles laced under dark skin. He had a great smile. 

I glance back at table 32, who was rolling his eyes at the few-second delay. “Wherever you like,” I reply, swiftly returning to this grumpy-ass trucker. “Your refill, sir! Anything else I can get for you?”

He blatantly ignores me.

“If you change your mind, just holler,” I added, and as I turned to walk away:

“You can get me a new fuckin’ burger, this one got cold while I was waiting for you to finish flirting.” He slammed the second burger I’d brought to him back down onto the tray. Fuck you, dude. I’m already getting chewed out by the kitchen, but cool! Yeah! Okay!

“Yes, sir. I apologize, I’ll be right back out.” As I walked away with his tray, shifting it between fingers so as not to scald my fucking hand, I let a subtle sigh escape from my lungs.

10 seconds at the door. 30 seconds at the table. 15 minutes for food. 1 minute to bus.

I remind myself for the umpteenth time today of what’s supposed to be the restaurant policy. That had been out the door since 4:30 that afternoon and it is now… I glanced at the clock above the window as I slid the tray back onto it… 12:57 in the morning. Sick. Can’t wait to see the reviews.

“What was wrong with it this time?” The chef snapped, yanking the tray back.

“I’m just as annoyed as you are, I promise. He said it got cold. Just…”

She cuts me off. “Leave it there for a few minutes and come back. I’m not making a whole new burger.”

I did not roll my eyes, thank you very much.

Wheeling around on the balls of my feet and carefully controlling my breath, I picked up 6 menus and a matching number of silverware on the way to the round booth the group had settled into. I flip[ed on a positive tone to greet them. “Howdy, howdy! How are you folks-”

“Just say the word, and I’ll see him out,” the dark man interjected. The rest stared at him in partly shock, partly reprimand. I think the silver-haired one was his superior, he was carrying the ‘don’t interrupt her, asshole’ look.

“Uhm, sorry?” I glanced around the mostly-empty store, divvying up the hardware on the table in the meantime.

“The old fuck over there. If you want him to leave, I’ll make it happen.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking me dead in the eyes. I chuckled uncomfortably.

“No, that’s okay.” I have a feeling he was not kidding. I swept my eyes along the table to make eye contact with each person as I introduced myself, but I risked a few seconds longer for the boy on the far left. “I’m gonna be your server tonight. You folks know what you’d like to drink?”

They rattled off their drink orders one by one (The dark-haired woman asked for scotch and I’m only a little sure she wasn’t being serious, and the one with the colourful clothing almost squeaked in joy when she saw strawberry lemonade on the menu), but the sweet-looking boy on the end took the longest.

“Sir?” I nudged, tilting my head down to catch his gaze under his hair.

“Yes, uh, what kind of coffee do you serve?” he inquired, pushing his menu in front of him on the table, trying to straighten the edge flush against the side of the table.

I stammered. “It’s just black coffee…” I replied uncertainly, glancing at the other members of the group.

“They don’t serve frappuccinos, Reid. Do you want the coffee or not?” the second blonde woman sighed, and I think she was probably just as far down her rope as I was. That slips from my mind, though, at the mention of his name. Reid. Cute.

“No, I just meant the roast,” he clarified, but at the uncomfortable look on my face, he conceded. “Yeah. Black coffee, please.”

If he slumped any further down, I think the booth would swallow him.

—-—-

The second time it happened, he caught me on a better day. Our breakfast rush wasn’t too bad, and I actually had a second server helping me that day. It was almost noon, and I was feeling far lighter than I was the last time. When I glanced up at the chime by the door, a smile far more genuine than last time crossed my face.

“Hello again!” I chirped, wiped my hands on my apron, and pretended not to notice his flinch. “Just you today?”

He returned my smile, albeit feeble. “Yes. It’s just me.” 

“It’s Reid, right?” Grabbing a menu and silverware, I followed him over to the same booth he’d occupied with the other five people last time.

“No, I- Well, yes. Derek uses my surname. It’s Spencer,” he replied, sinking into the fake leather and glancing around the store. “It’s busier than last time.”

Setting the menu in front of him, I followed his gaze. “Well, yeah, it was the middle of the night.”

“The coffee was Colombian roast with hazelnut,” he said. Huh? “You seemed confused when I asked what kind it was.” He nodded, like he was trying to remind himself. “That’s what it was.”

“Oh.” Did his lips look that soft last time? His sleeves are folded up his arms this time. “Your hair looks pretty,” I said before I could stop myself. Shut up, shut up, shut- “It matches your eyes.” My smile softens the compliment, but I don’t think that made him any less confused.

“T-thank you,” he replied softly, pushing it back on instinct. Change the topic.

“Do you, uhm.” I clear my throat and shift my weight. “Would you like a coffee, then?”

He shook his head with a grimace. “Absolutely not. It was awful.”

He’s funny. I guess I didn’t throw him too far off-course.

“Why did you order it, then?” I asked, not unkindly. He turned pink. Pretty.

“I didn’t want to make you more stressed than you already were.” Reid– No. Spencer adjusted the strap of his cross-body bag. 

“Did I seem stressed?” I asked, quickly chancing a look behind me to check for my manager. We’re in the clear.

“Ye- No, not like that. I’m, uh. I’m trained to read people well. You were walking at an abnormally quick pace, and you kept looking around when you were at other tables, even though there were very few, as though any second you’d be pulled away." He straightened slightly, setting his shoulders, as if he were in his element, but he still doesn't look at me, his eyes cast down. "When you were filling our drinks, you poured some out and refilled it more than once, which I assume was to achieve a perfect ratio, or at least one you perceive as such. And–” he looked up from his menu that I’m positive he wasn’t reading to look me in the eyes. “And the man at table 32 was being very curt with you. That would cause stress. Your manager behind the window wasn’t making it any better, I bet.”

I scoffed incredulously. “Good memory,” I said with a smile. “That was impressive. Yeah, I wasn’t in the best mood that night.” My voice lowered to a conspirational whisper, but I didn’t let my facial expression change. “But you helped. You have no idea how far a little bit of kindness goes. And hey, I never got the chance to tell you I was sorry for messing up your order.”

Spencer shook his head, stretching and relaxing his fingers above the table for something to do. “It was just a salad. I just took the tomatoes off, it was no problem.”

I smiled softly. He’s so sweet. “Do you know what you’d like to drink, Spencer Reid?”

He let himself genuinely laugh. “Good memory,” he repeats, an air of light-hearted sarcasm to his tone. “I’d like a sweet tea with lemon and– actually. I know I shouldn’t ask, and you absolutely do not have to answer, but uhm… when do you have a lunch break? Maybe we could-”

“Right now. I’ll be right back,” I replied, taking off my apron and walking to the back to alert my manager (thankfully, a different one than the overnight one.) They could manage without me for an hour. I was not passing him up a second time.

——

The third time it happened, we were on our third date. Spencer wanted to go to a museum, I wanted to do something a bit more interactive. We agreed on an aquarium.

“Actually, Parrotfish are one of my least favourite of the wrasse family, and definitely least favourite of the Labridae,” he countered when I insisted their colours were pretty.

“I didn’t say they were my favourite, Reid, I said they were pretty."

“No, I know, but I’m just saying.” He was practically vibrating, balling a fist and unballing it, and I could tell he needed to tell me number 1,001 of his facts in the last hour.

I sighed, an affectionate smile on my face as I turned around and leaned on the rocky wall. “Why are they one of your least favourites?”

Reid offered me a toothy grin. “The parrotfish has a tendency to coat itself in a bubble of its own mucus and saliva in order to protect itself from parasites and predators. It’s intended to mask their scent. Many refer to it as an underwater sleeping bag,” he explained with a grimace. Oh, that’s why. “I’m positive it only spreads bacteria, and if fish could get sick in the same way as homosapiens, they would all be sick all of the time.”

“You know, not for nothing, but I wouldn’t mind your saliva all over me.”

“Ugh! Gross!” Spencer staggered backward, glaring at me. “Don’t say things like that.”

I pout. “You’re not even a little curious what I taste like, Dr. Reid?” I stalked up to him, mocking a femme fatale in one of those cheesy black-and-white spy movies.

“Stop it.” He swallowed thickly and when I went to lay my hands on the sides of his neck, his instinctively found my hips. He glanced at my lips. I stared at his.

“Make me,” I whispered, deciding eye contact was a better choice. Good god, his face was red.

His mouth parted slightly and he squeezed my hips, then adjusted his bag. “Enough,” he asserts, and I’d be lying if that didn’t turn me on. In all honesty, I was totally doing a bit and I was just about to back off anyway, but yeesh. For the sake of my own sanity, I giggled and pushed off of him. He sighed in relief.

“Fish can get sick,” I said, changing the topic back to what he'd said about the parrotfish to ease his nerves. When he took more than a half a second to reply, I started to doubt myself. “Can’t they?”

“Well, yes, but not… not ill. They can’t have a sickness like we can. They just feel sick. Like, if they swim upside down, or have issues breathing, or if the water quality is poor.”

I pushed myself off the wall and linked a finger around the strap of his bag, dragging him along behind me. “Alright, last section. Lock and load, you’ve got…” I glanced at my phone. “13 minutes to give me as many facts as you can. Go.”

–

Spencer insisted (according to Date Etiquette 101 from Professor Derek Morgan) that on the third date, he had to take me to a romantic dinner. He still wants to stop by his apartment to get changed, so we’re on the way there now, and have 1 hour, 42 minutes and counting to get to our reservation. I brought a bag with makeup and a change of clothes so I could get done up too and not have to go all the way across town to my place.

Y'know, you wouldn't think it, but he's really a reckless driver. It isn't that he doesn't understand the rules of the road or how to follow them. It's more that he knows them well enough that he feels confident in breaking them. It's kinda sexy. He drives with his left hand only barely touching the wheel and his right hand in mine. It took him a long time of being around me to be okay with physical contact, but now that he's to that point, he's incredibly clingy. He turns a 25-minute drive into 18, and I guarantee that's only because there was a fair amount of traffic.

–

“Are you almost ready?” I hear a rustling sound on the other side of the door, then a muffled, soft scraping noise that suggests he just sat on the floor (which by the way, is clean enough you could eat off of it) against the door. I’m in his room also sitting on the floor, utilizing a full-body mirror against his wall, carefully tweaking my eyeliner. Reid didn’t want to see me before the date, said it was bad luck. It’s strange what he chooses to be superstitious about.

“Almost. 1 minute.” I lean back, raking my fingers through my hair and checking my appearance. Not to toot my own horn, but toot fucking toot, I look downright strapping. “Okay!”

Just as the word leaves my mouth, the bedroom door is flying open and he’s barrelling in, but he stops dead in his tracks as he sees me. “Wow.”

I spin in a little circle, my black, mid-thigh corset dress making a dome around me. “You like?”

Spencer approaches slowly, his eyes scanning me head to toe, right to left, and everything in between. “You… are magnificent.” His fingers twitch when he’s about a foot away from me as though he wants to touch me but chickens out. I gently take his hands and place them on my hips, emboldening him to slide his touch upward, over my waist and around to my back. I pretend not to notice his repeated glances at my breasts, as does he.

“Et toi, mon amour,” I reply, a fresh grin painted across my lips. “You look hot.”

He makes a sour face. “You ruined it.”

My jaw drops and I take a step back, feigning offence. His grip falls from my sides. “Fuck did I do? I can’t call you hot now? I’ve said that a thousand times, calm down.”

“I was being a gentleman,” he pouts. “You’re just being crude.”

“That’s not crude, Dr. Reid. If you want crude-”

“No! No, don’t do that. Save it.” He chuckles, stepping forward again and putting his hands right back where they were. I don’t stop him. “Just hush.”

I let him look at me for a few seconds, and I, him. Just a few until I started getting squeamish under the scrutiny. “Okay. Enough, we need to go,” I interject, pressing against his chest gently with my fingers splayed out. With a glance at the clock behind me, he nods.

“Après toi, ma chérie.”

–

Fancy, fancy FBI boyfriend-not-boyfriend rented out a whole room for us. Candle in the middle of a two-seater table, a window into the main room so we can see what’s going on, and a record player in the corner. The decor is upscale, but not obnoxiously proud. Lots of wood, mostly dark, but light walls. He even goes so far as to pull out my chair for me. 

We’re almost to the end of our meal and I’m taking pin-sized bites to try and draw it out. Reid has already called me out for it twice, but I have blatantly ignored him.

“Spencer,” I begin, cutting off a conversation about the history behind the Hays code and its relevance in a specific episode of Supernatural.

“Hm?” He straightens up, clearing his throat.

“I have a stupid question. You don’t have to answer it.”

“Go ahead.”

“What was your first impression of me?” My voice is low, unsure. I have time to cross my legs, then uncross them, then look at him, then back at my lap before he begins to reply.

“I thought you were pretty. You seemed agitated,” he says, slow, haltingly, like he isn’t sure if that’s the answer I wanted. It wasn’t.

“No, after that. When we started going out. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Spencer hums, folding his hands and leaning back. The seconds tick by like minutes, and god he looks delectable.

“You’re self-assured and conduct yourself as though you think you’re the greatest person in the world. You hand out compliments like candy and you flirt like you’re dying tomorrow because you want people to find you exciting. You think you have to have major sex appeal to attract a partner, which isn’t true, it’s actually quite off-putting.”

“You think having major sex appeal is off-putting?” I interrupt.

“No, I think overdoing it to the point of-”

“I’m not overdoing it! It’s just the way I am.”

“I’m not saying-”

“It’s just that-”

“If you’d stop interrupting me, I’d answer your question.”

I shut my mouth. That was hotter than it needed to be.

“Thank you. As I was saying, it’s clear to others, or at least to me, that you do not feel that way about yourself in the slightest. For the sake of honesty and because I always answer your questions to the fullest of my abilities, I’d say you find yourself almost repulsive."

My stomach twists. Does he find me repulsive? Why would he think I feel that way? Better question: How does he know I feel that way?

"When you first began getting into relationships, you were probably up-front about that because you didn’t know any better, but quickly learned people internalize what you tell them. So, to combat that reaction, you started acting like all you wanted from people was sex so it didn’t matter whether they liked you or not, which led to a lot of meaningless flings that left you feeling worse than you did when you were single.”

If my jaw were any lower, it’d be on the floor. I swallow my arguments.

“Tell me more about my sex life, then, Dr. Reid. Since you know so much.” I’m hoping he knows me well enough to know I didn’t mean that to be as bitter as it sounded. He does.

“You project dominance because you fear loss of control, not to mention your hatred of your own body. You wouldn't ever want to be the receiver in a sexual situation, or at least you wouldn't ask for it for worry of your partner finding you less-than-satifactory."

I fight the urge to ask if he'd feel that way, even as I know his answer.

"You only lightly dabble in more aggressive sexual habits, but your enthusiasm whether or not it comes across as joking suggests there’s more truth in it than you’d like for there to be.” He pauses, and I’m not sure whether it’s because he’s trying to remember his next line or it’s because I distracted him when I leaned forward to lean my chin against my palm. I forgot how much of my cleavage this dress shows. He licks his lips and moves on more elegantly than I thought he would. I take advantage of his silence.

“What about you, Dr. Reid?”

He blinks. “What?”

“What about your sexual habits?”

“I, uhm-”

I stand up and walk over to him, placing my hand on his shoulder before I settle on his knee. His hand goes to my thigh nearest to him and he catches my eyes, careful not to look away.

“Well?”

His composure repairs itself like magic.

“It depends on my partner,” he says, his voice lower than it was before, and I swear his eyes are darker than they were a few minutes ago. “I tend to let my partner set the pace. I can embrace aggression if the circumstance proves it necessary.”

Holy shit.

This, my dear reader, was the third time I thought: I’d really like to see just how red I could make you.

“What about me?” I ask, my throat dry. I think I’m more nervous than he is, but I’m taking it like a champ. I look down at Spencer’s hand (his very pretty hand, his very big hand, across my entire thigh. Has it moved up?), but he’s not having it. His free hand goes up to hold my chin firmly, and with utter and total reverence, he lifts my face to look him in the eyes again.

“What about you, beautiful?" He watches me carefully, brown eyes full of intent. My self-control right now is dazzling.

And if I said a little thank-you prayer to God for not giving me a dick with which I would be cursed with a boner right now, then maybe that’s nobody’s business.

“What kind of aggression would you use with me?” I bite my lip and swallow, staring at his lips. Perfect, perfect boy.

He studies me for a moment, and I think he’s trying to make me squirm on purpose. His hand hasn’t left my chin, the bastard.

“Keep talking," he prompts. Yes, sir.

I could not tell you, gun to my head, where the fuck I got my bravery from, but hallelujah holy shit.

“Would you grab me by the throat and hold me against a wall?" Woah, where did that come from? Go me. "Would you hold onto me so hard it bruised? Would you leave marks that wouldn’t go away for weeks? Would you ever hurt me, Dr. Reid?” If he notices my face getting so hot it would rival the sun, then it was sweet of him not to address it.

“Is that what you want?”

“I guess I just want to know if you could,” I reply, my left hand coming up to his face, my fingertips tracing his bottom lip, my eyes glued to the point of contact.

“You have no idea what I could do, given enough provocation,” he whispers, finally allowing his eyes to fall to my mouth, parted slightly in awe.

“Are you gonna kiss me or not, Spencer?”

Rather than responding to me, his grip on my chin loosens for favour of travelling down my jaw, then to the back of my neck, curling into my hair, pulling just hard enough for me to feel the tension. “Fix your attitude,” he asserts, and then his lips are on mine and it’s all passion and fury and the taste of chocolate. I moan into his mouth on instinct, and his grip on my hip tightens.

If there’s one thing about Spencer Reid, it’s that he exists as a multitude. And if there’s two things, it’s that he kisses like a man fucking starved. Like he’s been suffocating slowly in a room with no oxygen, and once he gets a mask, he’s not letting it go. He’s teeth in lips, he’s hands roaming, he’s furrowed brows and mouths parting.

His right hand roves over my thigh furthest from him, dipping under my skirt just barely. He stays under the fabric and moves his hand to the top of my thigh, then braving the inside. He’s squeezing once or twice everywhere he touches, like the cliche of saying pinch me. I spread my legs instinctively.

As quick as it started, it stops.

I whine, my eyes opening slow like molasses.

“This is an incredibly uncomfortable position,” he pants. I only just realized the poor thing is not exactly on a sofa made for two. I may be snug as a bug in his lap, but the arms of the chair are digging into the sides of his legs. The recollection of our being in a fucking restaurant right now hits me in the face like a fresh bucket of ice water. 

“Fuck. Sorry,” I breathe, my hands tangled in his hair, and I’m not sure when they got there, or when they managed to unbutton the top half of his shirt, or how the straps of my dress are halfway down my arms.

“Bathroom?” I propose, glancing at the adjoining one that I am thanking my lucky stars for as we speak.

“Bathroom,” he agrees.

[theactualsunshinechild]

If Castorice is cursed to kill whoever she touches and Mydei is cursed to be immortal, do you think Mydei ever goes to Castorice on a really bad day and is like, hey can you put me down for a bit please? I'm having these phantom pains from fatal wounds and injuries that don't exist anymore and they're keeping me up, I want a nap.

And obviously at first Castorice is like "L-lord Mydei, please rethink this, death is not something to be trifled with! Even with your condition, I cannot guarantee your safe return..." and Mydei takes the time to reassure her that, no, he's sure about this, and yes he is willing to bear the risks, no he doesn't care if it will hurt, please euthanize him. It takes a bit of convincing but eventually she agrees to risk it, and, fear in her heart, gently places a hand on his shoulder.

Mydei wobbles and collapses dead on the spot. Castorice lets go and starts fretting internally, stepping back and circling around, frantically searching for any sign of life. How long does it usually take for Mydei to come back? Will he come back at all? Her own curse is clearly effective on him after all... To her relief, it only takes a few seconds for Mydei's eyes to flutter open again to find himself supine, with limbs bent at various awkward angles from the way he ragdolled.

It was a very peaceful few seconds, no pain, no blood, just an pleasant floating sensation as the familiar dark waves of the Styx rocked him side to side gently, before a bright guiding light forcibly pulled him right back. If not for the uncomfortable position he came to in, he'd even say the experience did some old aches a lot of good. The slight relieved smile that comes across her face as he explains this belies how many years of uncertainty and grief she's experienced over the many deaths she had enacted prior. She must have had no way of knowing for sure, until now, whether or not the deaths she delivered were as gentle as she hoped, Mydei realized.

It takes slightly less convincing to have Castorice try again. This time, they arrange more comfortably, Mydei sitting down against a wall, Castorice taking his offered hand in hers. As his hand goes limp in hers, his skin slowly cooling, she draws comforting circles on it with her thumb, more for herself than for his unfeeling body. After several minutes this time, each feeling longer than the last, she lets go and backs away once more, waiting with bated breath for the moment he shudders back to life, taking air back into empty lungs, eyes bright again, fierce, lively and visibly well-rested.

They agree to never exceed 15 minutes, Castorice explaining he would likely not enjoy coming back to the discomfort of gravity having caused all of his stilled blood to pool and settle inside of his body, let alone his body having cooled. Mydei agrees easily and assures her that he will keep his requests for deathly repose infrequent.

Castorice often passes the time Mydei spends dead trying to occupy her hands, the nerves never quite leaving her alone. Knowing logically that Mydei will come back and fearing that maybe he won't come back this time are two separate things after all. She tries many things, from bringing a scroll to read, to embroidery, shoulder pressed to his, trying to ignore how much bolder the red tattoos look against the pallor of a dead man. When Mydei wakes to Castorice's fingers pricked and bleeding for the third time, he frowns and offers for her to braid his hair next time if she wishes.

The next time, a month later, they arrange slightly differently, Castorice sitting on a bench, Mydei lowering his head into her lap, his hair an offering she wills herself to accept. Having assisted with many a funeral rite, Castorice is able to lose herself in the process of carefully weaving the messy soft locks into shape. The texture is strangely soothing, despite how unnaturally still Mydei remains, and Castorice imagines that this must be similar to what it feels like to pet a lion's fluffy mane. When the sand stops flowing, Castorice moves Mydei's head out of her lap to walk five places away once more. He comes to, gasping for breath as usual, and reaches up to feel at the new braids he sensed in his hair. A ghost of a smile graces his face when he finds them to be satisfactory, and he wears them for the rest of the day as a sign of appreciation. Castorice fiddling with his hair while he is dead quickly becomes the standard for their little meetings. Sometimes he wakes up with no new braids, but he doesn't question it so long as Castorice doesn't appear to be in any distress.

The first time Phainon spotted Mydei with his head in Castorice's lap, Castorice gently running her fingers through his hair as if he were a very large cat, Phainon almost passed them by with how peaceful they looked...

Then did a double take and panicked.

Anyway, that's my headcanon at least for how Castorice can say that the death she brings with her touch is peaceful. I think discovering that killing Mydei with her touch grants him what is essentially a banger nap from his perspective, probably helped her find an amount of peace in those early years. Truly putting the rest in "putting to rest"with this one.

Obviously she'd still prefer to be able to touch people and creatures without having them die, but at least she has learned that it isn't painful when she kills this way.

Additionally I like to imagine that while being killed by Castorice feels soothing, getting killed normal ways feels like shit, painful the whole way through, and then you get dunked violently into the Styx. And for Mydei specifically, it's more like he gets dunked into the Styx only to get yoinked right out, soul still sopping wet and cold, and forced back into a body that is fully repaired but it's happened so fast to him that his nerves have him feeling the aftershocks of the injuries that are already gone.