#and i do still need to take cues from it and not be so rigid with my designs there was a charm to when i was still figuring em out

[bandtrees]

YAY YAY YAY YAY!!!! THANK YOU TO ALL 👁 ❤

[CW: EYE STRAIN/MILD FLASHING]

i have done what many people in my life have wanted me to do for years (started listening to the magnus archives) and to nobody's surprise i am enjoying it. i am partway through season 2 (just finished ep56, which inspired this vid ofc) so have a pmv i've been chipping away at since sunday, about my favorite disaster paranoiac john 🤲

i've always really really wanted to get into videomaking again, like pmvs and what have you, and everyone around me has been subject to so much griping about how i don't think i have it in me. and then i tried it. and turns out i do! follow your dreams people. draw that man in distress

[luveline]

Hii! I'm in love with your Hotch adult daughter fics. Could we get one where she is getting bullied in college or where she works and then Hotch finds out somehow and helps her? Please please :)

thanks so much for requesting! fem, 1.2k

He decides to surprise you. He’s at risk of embarrassing himself greatly, and he’s okay with that risk. 

Hotch stands outside of the George Washington University and winces in the hot weather. The sun beats down on the back of his neck. He’s more aware of how little sun protection he uses as the time stretches on, waiting for you, but he doesn’t mind it. He’s worn full suits in the Nevada desert. 

You emerge from the main building where your last class for the day takes place. He dropped you off here last week, got to watch you walk in and say hi to the custodian. It was a nice insight of who you are, someone he’s proud to be the father of though he had little hand in what you’ve become. 

Behind you are two female classmates. 

Hotch pauses under the tree he’d taken refuge by. 

He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can see the rigidity of your shoulders, your hackles rising as they talk. The brunette gets a nasty look on her face, to which you respond, and the blonde’s volume begins to rise. 

The brunette looks like she might reach for you. “Don’t touch me,” you warn. 

Hotch steps in. 

“Hey, excuse me,” he says, loudly and firmly, the Unit Chief tone in play. He’s gotten very good at raising his voice without shouting. “What’s going on here?”

The two women who were talking to you falter, but the brunette stays fiery. “We’re just talking.” 

“About what?” 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“If you’re going to lay your hands on her, it becomes my business,” he says. 

There’s a guilt to the blonde’s expression that proves you’d been thinking correctly and that she was going to touch you, even if it were only to grab your wrist, but she bristles and denies. “We weren’t.” 

“Then you have no reason to stay.” 

You frown deeply. “No, they can finish. Clearly they think it’s important–”

“But do you think it’s important?” Hotch asks you. 

Your frown, your anger beginning to ebb. You take a breath. “I suppose not.” 

Hotch levels the women with a look. Just a look, not interrogative or heated, but prompting —it’s the kind of look he gives people when he wants them to realise they’ve missed their cue to leave. 

“See you next week, then,” the brunette says, a threat he abhors. 

“I’m sure she will,” he says, hoping anything unsaid is felt. He has no idea who they are or what you’ve apparently done to make them angry, but you won’t be intimidated. 

“Do I need to talk with Dean Langley?” he asks, turning to you as the women walk out of hearing range. 

“Aaron.” You look at him, look like him, not in appearance but the pinch to your brow as you rub the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” 

“What?” 

“They do it to me every time I’m here.” 

“They do?” 

You sound like it’s a chore. “They think I’m sleeping with our professor.” 

“Why would they think that?” 

“Because ever since I stopped working, my grades are much better, n’ they think I cheated my way there.” 

Oh, of course. Hotch tries to do something good by you —he’s started giving you a little chunk of money every week so you don’t have to work anymore, nothing obsequious but enough to cover everything you need, rent and food and transportation, clothes, textbooks, and he made it clear you can ask for more— and it makes things worse for you instead. Still, “Your grades are improving?” 

“I’m doing pretty well,” you confess shyly. 

He holds your shoulder. “I’m sorry they’re jealous, and I’m sorry they’re inventing a narrative to cope. I really can speak with Dean Langley if you need me to.” 

You smile and let yourself lean into his touch. “Inventing a narrative to cope,” you repeat. “That’s a good one. I’ll use that one.” 

You have more fight in you, it seems. “If it gets too much, just let me know. You don’t have to entertain their delusion.” 

“I’ll use that one, too.” 

He laughs, hand sliding behind your back to hug you from the side, his nose briefly pressing to your temple before he gives you space again. “I was hoping I’d catch you on your way out, are you busy? Let me take you to dinner, celebrate your performance.” 

“You realise I wouldn’t have improved without your help?” you ask. 

“I think any parent in my position should provide for their kid,” he says easily. “It’s not help. Not everyone can support their children through college, but I can, and I wish I had been from the start.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” you say. 

He nudges you into a walk toward his car. “I owe you more than you realise.” 

He takes you to an early dinner, and celebrates your improving grades with the dessert of your choosing. Conversation with you can sometimes feel strange. It’s hard to think you were a kid once and he’d never met you, but then he realises how young twenty two really is, how you’re still willing, longing for him to be a father to you. You’re smug that he’d go to the dean to for you. You like that he stepped in. And you love being doted on, being encouraged. He can see that easily. 

“When can I come back to see Jack?” you ask eventually. 

He wishes he could say whenever you like, but he has a hard time following Haley’s movements. “I’ll ask. Soon, I promise.”

“He took great care of me.” 

The last time you’d stayed over, Jack acted like you were the best thing since sliced bread (which you are, in Hotch’s eyes). 

“You know, he had a little trouble with bullies last year.” 

“They aren’t bullies,” you say, taking a bashful bite of your ice cream. 

“No, of course not. But he’ll understand, if you want to tell him about it.”

“Aaron, he’s five.” 

“He’s six,” he corrects. 

“Oh, sorry. But still, I don’t think Jack wants to deal with that. I couldn’t unload on him, he’s my… you know, he’s my little brother.” 

“Then tell me about it, at least.” 

“You saw the most of it.” 

He sighs. Wishes you’d call him dad, understands why you don’t, and can’t think of what to do. It was easier when Jack had trouble, because little kids bully each other almost on accident. They don’t know what they’re doing is wrong, having learned the behaviour from their parents. It’s almost never personal. 

Your situation is not the same. 

“I’ll talk to the dean,” he suggests again. 

“Don’t bother. It’s alright. And if it gets worse, I’ll tell you.” 

He smiles, reaching over plates to squeeze your hand briefly. “Thank you.” 

You look down at your food. Some shyness to you still at being cared about. “Thank you,” you mumble. 

[deansdelicate]

we might just get away with it

dean ambrose x fem!reader

word count: [4.7k]

warnings: no use of y/n, mild cursing & sexual innuendos, in ring action (reader is a female superstar), overall two idiots being fluffy and in love <3

summary: the four times you and dean thought you were doing a good job at keeping your relationship under wraps + the one time you both ended up getting away with it.

The camera crew found themselves huddled in the narrow corridor of the arena, a likely place for them to be seeing as though The Authority loved to handle business backstage—but of course not without protection from the forces none other than The Shield.

The three men were already inside on their marks, probably talking amongst themselves with Steph and Hunter while you waited outside, preparing for your cue.

“We’re on in 30 seconds!” a stage hand announced, meticulously checking the stop watch and monitors, ensuring the cameras were in position and ready to roll once commercial break ended.

You bounced from foot to foot, getting yourself ready as time winded down. Glancing over at the crew who gave you a thumbs up, mouthing the final 10 seconds until the show was back on air.

“Action!”

Your fist came in contact with the door, pausing for a couple of seconds before hearing a voice say “come in” from the other side. The cameras followed as you twisted the handle, stepping into the ‘office’ and bringing the boys and bosses into the audience’s view.

The boys kept to themselves on the opposite end of the room, hardened gazes glued to their faces as they stared you down.

You rose your brows at the slightly, portraying your repulsion for the faction and their allegiance to the overbearing bosses. After a brief moment, you turned your attention to Stephanie and Hunter.

“Is there something we can do for you today?” Stephanie looked up from her laptop, shutting it with a sharp slap that made you flinch just a tad.

You shook it off, taking a deep breath before you spoke with the most confidence you could muster.

“I want a shot at the championship.”

Upon hearing your demand, Triple H even looked up from his own laptop, staring at you intently before turning to his wife. The two of them letting out strings of condescending laughter that had you furrowing your brows in annoyance.

“I love the confidence sweetheart, but I think you’ve forgotten how it works around here.” He smirked, bringing his clasped hands up to rest on the wooden desk.

“You can’t just barge into our office and demand a match for the title,” Steph started with a shake of her head.

“We’ve got bigger things to handle and maybe when you start acting like champion material then we can have a talk about a title opportunity.”

She wore that signature evil smirk, your jaw clenching as your rigid hands formed into fists at your sides.

“You bitc—”

Before you could swing, a set of hands wrapped around your waist and another grabbed your wrists, stopping them from crossing the distance to Steph’s cheek. You could feel them behind you, the three of them swarming in too close, making the already cramped room feel claustrophobic.

“Let’s not do anything rash, sweet thing.”

A voice spoke low, breath fanning down your neck sending shivers up your spine, leaving you frozen.

Yet you remained cool, your game face still on as Hunter stood up, shielding his shaken up wife.

“Get her out of here,” He demanded, pointing the boys to the door and scowling at you.

“I’m gonna get my match one way or another!”

You struggled and jerked in their holds, needing to be practically dragged across the room to where Roman held the door wide open.

Seth’s hold on your wrists retracted, pushing you out into the halls, but the pair of hands on your waist that belonged to none other than Dean Ambrose remained, not daring to let you go just yet.

His fingertips dug into the dough of your hips, curbing your fight and forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Next time you pull some crap like that, we won’t be so nice.” He murmured lowly, the two of you boring right through each other.

You scoffed, tongue running across your teeth before tilting your head at him, not making any move to remove his hands from your skin.

“That so? What are you gonna do about it? Power bomb me through a table? C’mon…hit me.” You dared, jutting your chin out though he retract.

Seth and Roman let out guffaws not phased at all, and Dean joined them a few seconds later, shaking their heads at how you managed to be standing in their presence without facing retaliation.

“The Authority and The Shield stand for the same thing: Justice. And whoever defies justice, man or woman, will get what’s coming to them sooner or later.” Seth declared.

You shifted your eyes up to his, “You mean The Authority made The Shield their bitch and now they do their dirty work for them?” You snapped back harshly, watching their faces fall with rage.

Roman grunted something under his breath, shooing you off. “Run along, you don’t want problems with The Shield.”

Dean laughed, squeezing your hips again, though the cameras didn’t catch it, your eyes drifting to meet his.

“What’re you gonna do? Send a little boy toy to get your justice for you?” He mocked.

You rolled your eyes before a small smirk came onto your face. Your eyes looking down between you both an innuendo that all the fans in the building laughed and hooted at.

“Trust me, you and I both know the boys I like are far from little.”

You roughly shoved his arms off of you and walked out of view while the camera panned to the boys peering down your path.

“Cut!” The stage hand called out, already getting the crew out of the tiny space in order to head to the next segment.

You waited patiently off to the side, passing each of the crew members a smile and ‘thank you’ before you skipped back over to the office where the boys stuck around.

“You idiot!” You screeched, drawing a weak fist to Dean’s chest as he snickered and wrapped his arms around your back, drawing you into him.

“I couldn’t help myself,” He shrugged, placing a chaste peck onto your lips, letting you kiss him despite some more not caring about the obvious lipstick marks left behind.

“Off script? Really, you two?” Steph crept up from behind, letting out a laugh despite trying to be serious because even she and her husband were notorious for doing the same back in the day.

Roman shook his head, light heartedly at you two. “I really thought I missed a line in the script.” He admitted, while everyone shared a laugh.

“Is that even PG?” Seth speculated, knowing Vince would have their heads on platters because you and Dean couldn’t help yourselves with a little sexual repartee.

Hunter snorted shifting his palm side to side knowing at the very least it could get flagged with a warning from the network, but it would definitely serve some entertainment from the fans and social media.

“You know one day the fans are going to catch on that this is really a thing.” He gestured between you and Dean’s bodies, the two of you still clinging to each other closely.

You rested your chin on his chest, looking up at him with a glint in your eyes that he returned just as passionately.

“We might just get away with it.”

Meet and greets were one of the more relaxing sides to the job and it was even better that you got to do it with your boyfriend sitting just a few chairs down.

Many fans, ranging of all ages took their time, greeting you with smiles, hugs, and funny stories, wishing you luck for a title match and you secretly knew was in the works.

A little girl approached you, her parents waving at you excitedly while they trailed behind her with a camera in hand making sure to document the moment their daughter got to meet her favorite wrestler. She sported your merch, alongside a title belt across her waist—the same one you were gunning after.

“You should’ve slapped Dean for not getting his hands off you!” she quipped instantly, hands on her hips, clearly disapproving of Dean’s behavior.

You bursted into a fit of laughter as did the other superstars around you, who high-fived the young gal, applauding her about the lesson Dean Ambrose needed to learn for messing with you. Being a baby face meant kids were especially protective of their favorites, and not wanting them to be tormented by ruthless heels.

“I really should have done that! I’ll remember for next time, okay?” You promised with a giggle, bending down to give her a warm hug.

She undid the belt around her waist, flipping it over so you could sign it. The two of you exchanging small talk before a familiar voice snuck in from behind you, prompting you both to shift your attention to the man himself.

“Hey! You planning on slapping me?” Dean declared, arms crossed over his chest defensively as Seth and Roman remained at his sides.

“Yeah! Don’t touch her again or else she’s going to slap you!”

The girl stood her ground, standing up straighter and glaring harshly at your boyfriend who played along, patting his cheek with a smirk.

“I don’t think she’d risk beating up a pretty face like mine,” he teased, looking over at you with a knowing smile that only you two could read into.

You grinned through the blush covering your cheeks, shaking your head, before pointing at the fan.

“I mean I couldn’t possibly ruin a pretty face like his, but maybe you could?” You suggested, watching as her jaw dropped.

“You mean I slap Dean?” She whispered in your ear, looking at you with hesitation.

You nodded assuringly, rubbing her shoulders like you were getting her pumped up for a fight.

“Yeah c’mon show him that no one messes with the future women’s champion.”

You hyped her up and soon all the superstars joined in chanting “slap him! slap him!”

Dean did his best to hold back a smile, getting down on his knees so that the girl could reach him. His arms spread wide, nodding and egging her on.

“You won’t hit me. Come on, I know you won’t—Oww!”

The slap was tame, even for a child, just a tap with a little force behind it. Instantly the girl cowered back, wrapping her arms around your frame hugging you closely as all the superstars and awaiting fans cheered her on for standing up for you.

“Way to go!” you praised, giving her a high-five and telling her how much she’d be a great wrestler in the future, maybe even the one to take the championship from you.

Eventually Dean slightly broke kayfabe, fist-bumping the girl and pinky promising that he wouldn’t put his hands on you again. All three men posed for a picture with her, frightened and panicky expressions on their faces as the girl held up a mighty fist.

She even got you and Dean to smile for a picture with her—and somehow no one noticed the dainty “D” initial that hung from the chain around your neck.

You sat in catering, joined by Naomi and Brie, the three of you catching up on life while tuning in to the match that played over the television. It was Seth versus Daniel, with Roman and Dean who got the chance to sit in on commentary for the night.

“I saw that interaction you and Dean had with that cute fan. You guys totally made her day.” Naomi grinned, noting how the little stunt you and Dean pulled was circulating around social media.

It was met with mostly positive lighthearted reactions that somehow didn’t revolve around the rumors that you were together in real life.

“Oh, she was adorable! I just wished she slapped Dean a little harder.” You shrieked, making the girls laugh thinking of how much fun this girl must have had.

Michael Cole’s voice drew your attention back to the TV.

“Dean last week you and the boys got into some stuff backstage with a certain female superstar. I suppose The Authority has you all on high alert after Steph nearly got attacked on your watch.”

The camera panned slightly to the commentators’ desk, where Dean’s fingertips tapped against his collarbones, seemingly forgetting the match in front of him at the mention of you.

“We’re used to threats of all kinds, but usually they aren’t this pretty or alluring. And she’s feisty, I’ll tell you that much, but I doubt she’ll want to mess with The Authority as long as The Shield is around,” he replied smugly, glancing over at Roman who nodded in agreement.

“She’s also got quite the smile, if you ask me! She’s drop-dead gorgeous,” The King, Jerry Lawler, jumped into the conversation, adding a whistle for good measure.

Dean’s face twisted in distaste as he shook his head at the legend, “Jeez, relax, would you, King? I’m sure she’s into the younger, more charming kinda guys—you know, piercing blue eyes, killer body, top-notch sense of humor?”

“Are you insinuating that—”

“What Dean means is that we’re not letting her distract us. In fact, she’s history from here on out.” Roman cut in.

Interrupting Cole from finishing his sentence that was sure to get Dean in hot water for making the entire match about his in real-life girlfriend whom he was irrevocably in love with.

The girls beside you whistled and giggled like middle-schoolers, knocking their elbows into your shoulders, knowing your boyfriend couldn’t help but get a little jealous even if it was just all for fun—what could you say? Your boyfriend was more than a little protective.

“Oh, he’s obsessed with you!” Brie teased, while you hung your head low, masking your blush behind your hair.

“What he is going to be is fired if he keeps it up.” You groaned half-jokingly, raising your head when you heard the bell ring and their theme song hit.

Roman and Dean slid into the ring, lifting their brother’s arm up in victory and celebrating together before retreating backstage through the crowd. But of course Dean couldn’t miss a poster with your name written across it, smirking at the fan who wore your merch and giving his nod of approval for support.

You quickly said goodbye to the girls, tossing your plate of food into the bins and heading towards the corridor where you knew they would be coming in from. When you arrived, they just so happened to get through the doors, arena security guards shaking their hands and posing for a quick picture and then heading off.

“Really? You know being on commentary means you comment on the match in front of you? Not your girlfriend.”

You crossed your arms across your chest, leaning against the walls as you gawked feigning exasperation.

Roman and Seth snickered, swinging their heads and heading off towards the carts to recuperate, letting you and Dean have your usual banter that turned into a love fest all too fast.

“Is there something going on between you and Jerry? Because I might just put him out of retirement.” He made his way towards you, lifting a speculating brow.

You let your arms fall across his waist, a cheeky smile seeping on to your features at the thought of him truly being jealous over Jerry Lawler, of all people. Yet you didn’t hesitate to iron out his worries, staring up at him fondly.

“It’s an honor to be one of his favorite female superstars, but I can assure you it’s all one sided. My sights are strictly set on a more younger, charming guy with piercing blue eyes and an impeccable sense of humor.”

You chided, poking at his cheek, watching the dimples form when he tried to hold back his smile.

“Some might even say good with the ladies?” He added with a wiggle of his brows while you threw your head back and laughed, pushing at his chest.

“Yeah, right. I’m the only lady he’s good with.”

He nodded in agreement, pulling you closer and placing a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get out of here before I do something else that gets me in trouble.”

You linked your fingers with his, the two of you strolling back towards the main area of the arena out of the public space.

As you made your way through the dimly lit corridors, a few fans who were taking bathroom and concession stand breaks caught sight of your backs. However, they didn’t recognize you out of your wrestling attire—curiously wondering who was the mystery lady was.

Dean watched the monitors intently, his knee bouncing up and down anxiously from where he was sitting in gorilla position tuning into your championship contender match against Nikki. The final minutes were winding down, and Brie had already been ejected, sent backstage after the ref caught her trying to aid her twin in the match.

“That’s my girl!” he clapped loud, standing up as you hit your finisher and got the pin—the rest of gorilla cheering for you, knowing it was a long time coming.

You hadn’t told him the outcome of the match, and no matter how hard he tried to get it out of you, it was all worth it seeing you celebrate and get one step closer to your first championship run. When you made it up the ramp and back through the curtain, you were instantly lifted off your feet, your arms clinging around his frame before being smothered in congratulatory kisses.

“I knew you were gonna win it.” He told you, setting you down and tucking strands of your hair behind your ear.

“I think I deserve a celebration tonight, don’t you?” You whispered secretly just for the two of you to hear, both of you sharing grins before he nodded, and placed a kiss on your lips.

“I say we get our segment over with, then get out of here?” He proposed, already hearing the stage hand calling out for the two of you to get into positions backstage.

“I’d like that a lot.” You agreed, taking his hand to where a stagehand was guiding you through the short segment.

Seth, Roman and Steph were already on their marks, greeting you with hugs and salutes before needing to step out of view while the cameras set up. They would be close behind Steph, acting as her personal security personnel for when she confronted you about your match on Sunday.

“Action!”

“Well, well, well,” Stephanie clapped her hands slowly, approaching you where you sat on the carts, icing your shoulder, “Congratulations on being the number one contender for the women’s championship, I guess you are champion material after all.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, grimacing at the strain in your shoulder before standing up to face her.

“Save it, Stephanie, and cut to the chase. What’s the catch? I know you wouldn’t make it this easy for me to get what I want.”

She frowned deceptively, “Do you really think I’m that cruel?” she glanced behind her, questioning the boys, “Can you guys believe that?”

They sneered at you, shaking their heads before Steph turned her attention back to you with a heavy sigh that always meant bad news.

“I’ll have you know that I always knew that you could do it, you just needed someone to light that fire underneath you. And I’m sure you’ll get the job done this Sunday. But just to be very sure, I think The Shield wouldn’t mind a front-row seat at your championship match.”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at her, “I don’t need them causing distractions.”

Dean snorted, gesturing to himself in a self-absorbed manner, “I’m flattered sweetheart, I really am, but your attention really should be on winning.”

You turned your nose up at him, looking the other way “Oh please, don’t let it get to your head Ambrose, you disgust me on many levels.”

Steph clapped her hands, looking at the faction, then back at you.

“Well, it’s settled. The Shield will be ringside for your championship match on Sunday. And I’ll be tuning in…champ.”

With that, she strutted away, leaving you and the boys behind with the camera still focused on you four.

“Stay out of my way,” you growled, eyeing each one of them down threateningly, not wanting your one championship opportunity to be at risk.

“Don’t worry about us.” Roman shook his head, walking off first.

“Wouldn’t want to let that championship slip from right under you.” Seth cackled manically, rubbing his hands together and following suit.

Only you and Dean remained, but this time instead of words being spoken aloud for everyone else to hear, his hands came up to cup around your ear, whispering words only two would ever know.

“I’ll be cheering you on. You know I always am. And you looked sexy out there, by the way.”

He backed off with a wink, leaving you flushed despite trying to play it off as hatred.

The crowd could only wonder what Dean had said to you, and it seemed like Cole and Jerry were just as curious, speaking over commentary about some ideas. Shortly after, the cameras cut, and once again, you were lifted off your feet, Dean hoisting you up a few inches off the ground to give you a proper hug after being rushed in gorilla.

“Congrats again, and don’t forget to go over the script changes!” Stephanie reminded, smiling as she waved goodbye to you and Dean, knowing you two would be pleasantly happy with creative’s turn on the storyline.

Dean raised an eyebrow, calling out to her “Script changes?”

Stephanie grinned, looking over her shoulder towards the both of you. “Just a little tweak for the next show. You’ll like it a lot.”

As she walked away, you and Dean exchanged curious glances not knowing what the script change could be on such short notice.

“Guess we better check those out,” you shrugged tossing the melted ice pack into a nearby trash bin.

He nodded, his hand finding yours again running his fingertips across your knuckles, leaning down to murmur against your lips.

“Yeah, but first, let’s get out of here and celebrate your win. And I meant what I said earlier…you look pretty damn sexy.”

“Lead the way, baby.” You leaned in, letting your lips brush his gingerly, a lingering kiss remaining until you were left to worship the rest of it in privacy.

“Get up, AJ!” you screamed, yanking her up by the hair and throwing her down into one of the corners of the ring.

Your boot met her midsection repeatedly until the ref pulled you back, giving her a moment to catch her breath while you and the official exchanged some words in the meantime.

The Shield boys kept to themselves, spread out on all three sides of the ring, keeping an eye on the entire match and most importantly, you.

To be quite honest, it was hard for Dean to hold back on his excitement, his tongue practically bruised from biting down on it, trying not to break out of character and into smiles or cheers when you got the upper hand in the match.

They were anxiously waiting for their cue; you picking AJ back up and throwing her towards the center of the ring, ready to go for your finisher. That’s when they got into positions, teetering up on the apron grabbing onto the ropes as if they were stalking their way in.

“What the hell is The Shield doing, Cole?” Jerry questioned, his voice filled with concern.

“I have no clue, but it can’t be good. We have to assume, ladies and gentleman, that Stephanie McMahon put them up to this,” Cole proposed.

You took notice of the men involving themselves in the biggest match of your life, brows pulled together in anger and frustration.

“Hey! What the hell is wrong with you guys?” You shouted, turning your attention to the boys who were now standing on the apron, sights set on you.

You walked towards Dean, and the ref headed towards Roman and Seth signaling for them to get down.

“Leave me the hell alone” You seethed, coming face to face with Dean. The only thing separating the both of you were the ring ropes.

“I know you like it.” He gloated, arms held wide, earning boos from the crowd.

You shook your head, turning away slightly only for the palm of your hand to meet his cheek with a harsh slap a few seconds later.

The crowd erupted in cheers as Dean pinched his eyes shut, shaking off the sting in his skin, putting on a cocky sneer that quickly had you angered again. You kept an eye on the titantron in front of you, aware that AJ would be coming in any second to catch you off guard, which was all a part of the finish.

Seth and Roman hopped back down onto the floor, while Dean took notice of AJ sprinting behind you. His arms shoving you out harm’s way in order to take the hit. Her legs knocking him to the floor, while she fell to the mat, unaware that you had backed into one of the corners, shocked at Dean’s sacrifice, but none the less not wasting time.

You quickly got to your feet, delivering a super-kick to her jaw before lifting her body into position for your finisher and hitting it in the center of the ring. You hurried into the pin, locking her legs and arm as the ref counted.

“1, 2, 3…ring the bell!”

Surprise and shock covered your features, your hands covering your face as you tried to hold back tears for backstage while the ref walked over to retrieve your title. AJ rolled out of the ring, giving you your moment to savor as the championship was placed in your arms and your theme song blasted through the sold-out arena.

You forced yourself off your knees, thrusting the championship high up in the air, gaining cheers and applauses from the audience who were on their feet. You swore you could jump into your boyfriend’s arms right then and there without a care in the world about scripts and keeping up the act—but you knew it’d all be worth it.

Seth, Roman, and Dean hopped back onto the apron, this time not faltering on letting themselves through the ropes, stalking their way towards you as your theme song suddenly got cut and the ref scrambled out towards safety.

“Uh oh, is The Shield going to spoil the best night of her WWE career?” Cole speculated.

“I hope not. The last thing we need is the new WWE women’s champ being put out of action all because of these three men.” Jerry added.

You swallowed thickly, clutching the championship to your chest, looking left and right for a way out that was impossible at this point. There was nowhere left for you to go, the crowd anxiously awaiting to see what was going to happen next.

Dean’s fingertips hovered over your face, clutching your skin delicately and forcing you to meet his orbs. You looked stunned, about to break in terror until suddenly a wide smile emerged across your features.

“Oh, my god! What the hell is going on?” The commentators cried out disturbingly.

Seth and Roman stepped back with laugher rumbling in their chests, clapping and pointing at the both of you as if they had known the real story all along.

Meanwhile, Dean closed the space between your lips, pulling you into a fervent kiss taking everyone aback. Your lips moved together in tandem, like they always did behind the scenes where no one had a clue you were flying right under their noses.

You both pulled away, smiling widely at each other, before he gestured towards you, reaching to grab your wrists and lifting it high up in the air, your theme song hitting once more, this time the crowd torn between cheers and boos.

Dean held you close, his pride evident in his eyes letting everything around him turning into white noise.

“My girl. My champ.” he whispered, speaking to you like you were the only ones in the world in that very moment.

You looked up at him, closing your eyes in bliss, before mouthing the words.

“We got away with it.”

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: hi everyone!!! this is my first imagine/one-shot here on tumblr and im excited to be getting back into my wwe era. it's always fun revisiting my loves (aka: dean, roman, and seth), and i can't wait to mesh some stories with my fave taylor tracks. this one is loosely based off false god hehehe.

[fumifooms]

Kabushuro

Kabru can fix Shuro I think. It’s cute how surprisingly similar they are...

Okay so they're a "we have similar issues" type of duo and the key word is performance.

1) They both treat socializing as a battleground, as a scripted dance there are right and wrong ways to act in, Kabru uses words and social relations as his weapon, especially as someone who was always disempowered otherwise in his life, and Toshiro from his noble background was raised in a very strict stifling way where rules, hierarchy and the importance of social cues were drilled into him. To kabru, being liked was what got him and continues to get him shelter at the island (his landlord even cleans his room for him) and what got and continues to get people to listen to him. To Toshiro, a right conduct is what gets him approval and what upholds the honor of not only him but his entire family and household, it's not just pressure but also his way to feel loved- which never worked with his dad. Kabru's dad left his mother when Kabru was born and Toshiro's father would never take interest in his sons, nothing they could do was grand and impressive enough, preferring instead to travel and horse around despite being a man of great import and military achievements. Community & social success are very important to Kabru and duty and societal approval are very important to Toshiro. Toshiro wants to fit into the expectations placed upon him and Kabru wants to wield social approval to better turn around and change these expectations and that pressure, work towards a society with less need to conform where more people can come to and find a safe home. Toshiro almost dreads his future role, while power couldn't come to Kabru fast enough.

2) They both repress themselves. While Kabru is a malleable tool to even himself, Toshiro's identity and demeanor is rigid, it's just not his own- but something he thought he had to replicate. They both suppress their true selves and their feelings to be more pleasing to the people around them and society and leave very little time for self-care. Neither have people they can truly be themselves with, Kabru not wanting to be vulnerable with anyone even his childhood friend Rin who went through similar trauma, and Toshiro having to be the honorable heir with everyone he interacts with, even feeling like he was betrayed by his mother figure Maizuru he loved when it turned out she also bent her spine for his (in his opinion) good-for-nothing father- he's constantly shadowed by his bodyguards, constantly monitored!!

Like the thing that gives them stress and that gives them validation is sorta the same (achievements & family expectations, understanding and playing people to get to goals) and like……………. Idk

They’re like. Parrot vs parakeet… They share the same cage and Kabru parrot is singing and playing with the enrichment puzzle toys and doing little dances meanwhile Toshiro is huddled in the corner quiet in a ball. Birds are stressed smart animals lol this makes sense to me.

Sooo they're both repressed guys who approach social relationships with a facade and hold the community & world's wellbeing above their own. They do have a lot of differences as well though, like how Kabru is so much more active than passive and paves his own path, meanwhile Toshiro has a hard time leading and tries much more to stay confined in the rigid structure of his life- again being malleable and adaptable vs rigid to a fault. They're both STRESSED and they both hate OPENING UP!

We see Kabru get Toshiro out of his shell a bit :) Though pushing Toshiro to be more active is something we see a couple people do in general, like how Namari dragged him into the "Asivia is causing problems in the party" pre-canon Laios party conversation. But where does this even go from there I hear you ask.

Well thankfully for us, Kabru likes figuring out people and Toshiro does crave some connection, as seen with Falin. Toshiro meeting someone not from the East who is still familiar with eastern customs (okonomiyaki for example), not enough to criticize Toshiro for doing things wrong but enough that Toshiro can relax around him. Knowing his intents get across. It’d be relaxing for Toshiro for sure to be around someone who like, gets social cues almost effortlessly. Kabru would seem to always read him so well even when he can’t express how he’s feeling and, even though it’d also be a bit (lot) scary in a feeling naked and you can’t hide anything from him way, it’d be soothing to know that literally like, that he doesn’t have to put up a front yes (because it'd be useless, Kabru sees A L L)- but also that he doesn’t have to even really communicate verbally almost, which he finds somewhat hard to do. They do still communicate very easily together though! Toshiro is good at picking up on things so he's not oblivious to Kabru's scheming and shrewdness, which makes their relationship easier to both work and be healthy imo.

They gain a sense of complicity pretty quick in canon. Chapter 32 my beloved. I love how he implicitly answers Toshiro's "Is that all?" later with Namari. He borderline opens up more to Toshiro that he's known for a couple days at most than he has to his own party he's known for years.

They just hang out and they tune to each other’s moods and the worries of the rest of the world around them melts a bit... Eventually. When Toshiro starts to actively notice things about Kabru back is when shit gets real on his end like oh... Oh shit…….

Reciprocity is so so interesting to think about especially with Kabru, always. It’s easy when it’s kind of like a play and attending to the other's every need and want just the right way, but then they want you to be part of the equation, what they want is you and not just what you offer them and suddenly it’s…… Not safe, or easy.

Thinking again about my theory that Shuro’s nightmare is just a barely exaggerated day at his house… The dread and suffocation and exhaustion of having eyes and all the weight of honor and behavior constantly follow him wherever he goes, pick his every movement apart. Benichidori style... But like, and how kabru doesn’t need Toshiro to tell him about that nightmare in specific to pick up on his less than ideal childhood. And kabru was in kind of a similar situation of feeling trapped at home by his parent too. Bonding, slowly but surely...

Kabru pulling the same strings he did on Dia’s boyfriend until Shuro’s a tearful mess (still barely holding them back). I do think he’d be a harder challenge, he’s way more repressed, less social and open and in touch with himself, unlike Dia’s fiance who’s all fiery I bet and seemdd to know what was the real issue bothering him… I think it’d be like enrichment for Kabru. Someone to get to know and it’s a lot of back and forth and mutual effort- Kabru’s very used to just, either pushing or receiving a ton in relationships, having people load their feelings and expectations onto him, reserved Toshiro would be refreshing I think. Someone who's not particularly interested in Kabru, and someone who wants to be focused on and looked at just as little as he does. It’s not like Laios where he has important motives to crack his mystery, the stakes are low he can just chill and enjoy trying to figure him out for the sake of genuine curiosity and a lil something in the air whenever they interact. They’re intriguing.

King of staying in his lane looking like a kicked puppy in his noble suit vs king of putting his nose in everyone’s business everywhere for the greater good getting to just have this thing that’s unprofessional and has no reason to be yet feels nice.

They should have regular meetups at the ramen joint, okonomiyaki trio ftw. A mutual letting down of walls in their offwork hours <3 It helps that he's already seen Toshiro at his worst I think. Kabru could even just hit him up sitting with him with a drink for a bit at the ending feast or something and they form a lil friendship :>

In a kabushuro timeline that adheres to post-canon would Toshiro live in Merini or would they be long-distance… Courting through letters and diplomatic travels as ambassadors…… Timeline where Kabru doesn’t become advisor and instead lives as Toshiro’s husband & like second head of the family is interesting… Although Kabru cares about using his politician status for change & greater good. I also do love Toshiro giving up on the heirdom too lowkey. See though the thing is that toshiro is ALSO about greater good, what he & traditions say is anyways, and it's stated that when he becomes the new head of the family things improve in the household- he's a better, more conscientious leader. Advisor x family leader kabushuro where Toshiro pushes for good Wa-Melini relations and an alliance... Every which way is neat

I need a fic where they just self-care and have a slow day hanging out together is the thing. They need a day at the spa (Toshiro needs a day playing in the mud actually but idk they can go to camping spa). Shuro takes a mud bath and realizes he’s entertaining himself by letting the mud drip from his fingers into a little pile on the rim. Even for small habits and stim he'd be super repressed I feel but finding subtle ways to stim king... Would kabru be good at massages? He 1000% knows how to massage out a knot in shoulders, it's a good way to get into people’s good graces... Kabru "I could help you to relax :)" especially if early on and he wants info/to have Toshiro as an ally. Shuro just melts into a puddle because he *really needed* a massage from someone (outside of the family). Didn’t feel like he’d have to continue performing. He knows human anatomy real well and stuff I bet if he tried he could even do acupuncture… Toshiro prob needs to get half-naked which makes him all 😖 but he gets over it and gets comfier the longer it goes on. Kabru’s satisfied/proud when he notices Toshiro’s discomfort get worn down over the minutes until he’s fully relaxed. Thank you @/saccharineomens for the brainstorm <3 God you just know they’d be in a situation where they’re sitting next to each other, having a real heart to heart, and kabru gently puts a comforting hand on Shuro’s leg while nodding sympathetically at him, and Shuro gets a little flustered at what appears to him to be a rather forward move lol.

Kabushuro eventually having the meanest gossip like just absolutely unleashing their pettiness together, I’d love to see it. They've got it in them I know it

The planning plotters...

[gaysindistress]

Requests? Honestly, anything that sees that beautiful old Hellrider happy and no longer pent up.

Pent up you say? *cue evil laughter* pent up Zevlor you shall receive.

pairings: Zevlor x f!reader

Warnings: suggestive nsfw

Bg3 masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Paladins are holy warriors, soldiers trained to fight for a divine cause and never hold anything about it. Marriage is difficult to uphold when your spouse is programmed to think about a god’s well being above yours. Sex is not exactly a great time when your partner is consumed by thoughts of their god rather than indulging in the one before them. Conversations are no easy feat if you do not share the same faith and you’d be hard pressed to find a paladin who would even give you the time of day in that case.

But an oath breaker?

They are godless.

They are devoted fighters with no faith to draw strength from.

They are searching for something, or rather someone, to place their faith in again.

Before the events of Moonrise, Zevlor would’ve felt guilty for the thoughts he has about you. Before he would’ve been disgusted by the way he envisioned what your body would feel like against his. He would’ve hated himself for imagining the arch of your back as you bent over his desk. He would’ve detested the way his body betrays his self control and grows rigid at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

But what I think he would hate the most is how he was deprived of you for so long, especially when you’re mewing out for him in his bed.

It takes every ounce of strength and thread of self control that he has to not

“Where are you going?”

I hear a voice call from behind me and I briefly glance over my shoulder at Aradin. He’s basking in whatever shitty afterglow he finds himself enjoying and lazily trailing his eyes up my naked form.

“Where does it look like I’m going?” I respond in a clipped tone while I search for my clothes.

“No you’re not. Come here,” he says in that awful wannabe seductive tone and tries to grab at my arm.

My reaction is almost too violent and by me ripping my arm away, I almost hit it against the headboard. He makes some comment under his breath about how ridiculous I am and if I really hated him that much then why do I even come here. It takes everything in me to not shout at him that I would rather let Astarion use me as his personal blood bank than continue to sleep with his pompous ass but a girl’s got needs.

I finish getting dressed and leave the suffocating room without a second look at Aradin. The full body shutter washes over me the moment the door closes behind me. My stomach feels empty yet sick from the lack of food and self disgust that I’m feeling. As if on auto pilot, I find my way out of the Elfsong and to the street where a young girl is selling fresh baked goods. I hand her a few gold coins for an orange roll that I mindlessly tear pieces off of as I stroll through the city. The morning is still new; the air is moist and smells of salt while the sun quickly rises in the sky and begins to warm the day. I pause in front of the docks and close my eyes as I take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the sea.

“Excuse me! Y/N!”

The sound of my name being loudly yelled forces me to open my eyes and turn towards my right. Alfira is wildly waving at me while racing down the street to catch up to me.

“Y/N! I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks now but you’re surprisingly hard to find.” She says, albeit out of breath and with a wide smile on her face. “You should come over so we can talk.”

The traces of Aradin still cling to me and I grimace at her statement before I can stop it. Her brows knit together in confusion and subtle offense.

Fuck.

“I would love to Alfira but right now is not a great time. How about I come by tomorrow night?”

She narrows her eyes at me as they survey me. I shuffle under her sharp gaze and freeze when she stares at my neck. Her eyes grow wild as she makes eye contact with me.

“Oh gods please tell me Zevlor didn’t do that. I don’t think I could handle hearing about your escapades,” she giggles and feigns playful disgust. Her giggles fall short when I don’t share them. My grimace grows while her eyes grow even wider and she lets out the loudest gasp imaginable. I grab her by the arm and pull her towards a less busy area when people start to look. I hiss her name at her to get her to quiet down.

“Who did that to you? Does he know? Oh gods he’s so hopelessly in love with you, y/n! What are you going to do? Are you going to tell him? Please tell me you’re not going to see who ever tried to eat your neck last night!” She all but shrieks in rapid succession.

I hiss her name again, “Alfira! You need to quiet down before the whole city knows my business.”

“Well?”

I let out a groan of frustration and rub my hand down my face before I answer. “No i didn’t spend the night with him. I spent it with….someone else.”

“Who?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“It was Aradin wasn’t it?”

We share a look of mutual concern for my sanity after I slowly nod. She lets out a scoff and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Him? Of everyone in Baldurs Gate, why him?”

I shrug while shoving the rest of my roll into my mouth so I don’t have to answer her.

“I can smell him in you, you know that?”

Double fuck.

My chewing freezes. I shake my head.

“And that means if I can, then Zevlor will be able to as well so you’re going to come over, scrub your skin until it’s raw, and pray that I have enough candles to cover it all up.” Her tone is final and leaves no room for me to argue with her so I don’t. I let her boss me around and we fall into idle conversation as we walk to her apartment.

Tea has been brewed, candles lit, food made, and my body thoroughly cleansed. I can hardly move without being hit with a wave of orange blossom thanks to the hair oils and lotions Alfira let me borrow. Even my clothes were taken to be washed so i had to borrow clothes from her as well but with how large they are, I know they can’t be hers or Larkissa’s. The billowy white shirt smells faintly of metal, the forest, and something else I can’t put my finger on.

The two tieflings are being grossly cute together stealing love sick looks at each other as Alfira and I talk. At one point I mock throwing up at one particularly adorable look and earn myself a playful shove from the bard. We descend into a fit of giggles so hard that I have trouble catching my breath. Alfira sniffles from the tears that have sprung from her eyes and wipes away at them.

When I do catch my breath, I take a deep breath and wind my hair into a loose knot so it’s off my neck. I’m in the middle of thanking Alfira for bringing me over and forcing me to stay when the front door opens. Lakrissa greets whoever it is and I assume it’s one of their friends so I tip my head back to say hello too. My voice stalls about half way through the word when I make eye contact with the Hellrider Commander.

Alfira lets out a squeak and glances quickly at my neck, causing Lakrissa to do the same. The tiefling wives share a look of understanding as Lakrissa steps between us and Zevlor while Alfira practically yanks my hair down. Everything happens so quickly that all I can manage to do is let out a small yelp of pain and glare at her.

Zevlor sits down next to me, scanning both Alfira and myself with a sharp eye. His entire body tenses when he gets to my neck. I quickly look at Alfira who’s gone pale if that’s even possible and has her lip trapped between her teeth.

“Anyone hungry?” Lakrissa loudly announces and partially saves us from the suffocating tension that is filling the room.

I wait about 15 minutes before quietly excusing myself from the table and disappearing up to the roof. Before I leave the room, I glance back to find that Zevlor is already watching me. the eye contact we make is fleeting but there’s no mistaking the longing and heartbreak that’s pooling in his eyes.

I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been out on the roof but it’s grown dark by the time I hear the hatch open. The wind blows a gust of a familiar scent towards me; the same as the shirt I’m wearing and one I dreamt of for months now.

“Join me?”

There’s nothing for a moment and I fear that he would pretend to not hear me and walk away. That fear is nullified when he does join me and sits beside me on the blanket that’s been left up here. There are only a few inches between us but our shoulders are close enough that I can feel his natural warmth. Like a moth to a flame, I want to lean into him and enjoy the heat that lives within him.

“How did you know where to find me?” I choose to ask so I don’t lay my head on his shoulder.

“She’s worried about you,” he responds while staring up at the night sky, “she asked me to come check on you.”

Sighing, I drop my gaze to my hands that are draped over my knees. My fingers dance with each other in the pale moonlight, twirling and rolling over one another.

“Do you wish to be alone?” He asks in a quieter voice. I can’t bring myself to look at him just yet nor do I trust my voice so I simply shake my head.

We sit in silence for some time, watching the stars enjoy their nightly party and dance together in harmony. The longer we stay like this, the closer I feel we become. By the time he finds his voice again to say my name, my shoulder bumps into his and he pulls away slightly to my dismay.

“What’s that look for?” he asks when I look between him and my shoulder.

“You didn’t have to move away. I don’t mind that you’re….that we were….it was okay.”

He stares down at me with an unreadable expression before shaking his head and turning back to the sky.

“You are with someone. It would be inappropriate for me to… to touch you.” His tone is clipped as he grits out the words. I don’t miss the way his jaw flexes or how his hands curl into small fists before slowly unfurling.

“I am not,” jumps out with my breathy voice and he blinks at me with an arched brow. “I’m not with anyone.”

“His scent lingers on you still,” he nearly snarls between clenched teeth. His infernal eyes are squeezed shut and his nose is flared with his breath coming in short, swallow breathes.

I take a calculated risk and grab him by his chin, forcing him to look at me, “I’m not with him, Zevlor.”

“You reek of him, Y/N. You must think me a fool if you think that I’d believe you’re not with him.” He grips my wrist and tries to pull it away but I can’t let him. I can’t let him slip away again, not when I have him so close.

“I've been trying to forget you.” I whisper and let my gaze fall to his lips. His hand flexes on my wrist, tightening around it as he searches my face for a hint of dishonesty. Maybe I’m stupid or maybe I’m bold but either way I lean towards him as I tell him that Aradin has been a failing attempt to forget him.

“That’s a lie,” he chokes out with eyes squeezed shut. His features are pulled taunt from his internal struggle of whether or not to push me away or to believe me.

Pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth, I whisper to him that it’s not.

“Prove it.”

We meet in a desperate yet slow kiss as we try to commit this moment to memory. My hands slid from his chin to his jaw, cupping it as I begin to lose myself in the feeling of him. I feel his cradle my neck but it’s not enough. I need him to touch me. I need to feel him gripping at my body in the way I know he wants to.

I find myself moving closer to him until one of his hands falls to my waist and his claws dig into my hip. I take the opportunity to climb onto his lap and let my fingers grip the hair at the base of his neck. Zevlor lets out a deep guttural breath when I sit down and pull at his ponytail. My own embarrassing moan slips out when I feel him press it against my core. He pulls away from me causing me to chase after his lips but his raspy voice stops me.

“Y/N,” he whispers, “I will either have you to myself or not at all.”

Before he can say anything more, I hurriedly whisper back, “you’re the only one I want.”

He dips his head to plant wet kisses down my jaw and whispers against the skin of my neck, “tell me that you’re mine.”

I quietly mumble something incoherent and let out a high pitched whine when he sucks a bruise at the edge of my jaw. He urges me to say it.

“I’m yours, Zevlor. Only yours.”

[reidsaurora]

okay but consider

Spencer post prison needing his routine to be even more specific because he had such a rigid schedule while inside, like he always had lunch at the same time everyday, so you and spencer are like working a case and lunch starts to approach but everyone is kinda in the throws of research and spencer is clearly not doing so well

so you pull spencer aside and are like "spence whats wrong?" and he explains hes uncomfy cuz of wanting lunch at a specific time, so you talk to emily and the two of you take your lunch together, and it becomes kind of like a little routine for the two of you to take your lunches together

wrote a lil blurb about this because you, my love, deserved a lil blurb. hope ur having a lovely day!! 🫶🏻🧡

pov: Spencer is having a hard time adjusting to life outside of prison. luckily, he has you to make it better ♡

warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!BAU!Reader, angst to fluff sorta, lots of talk about spencer's time in prison, descriptions of food, lots of crying, 0.9K words, not beta read!

Spencer looked up from his Tupperware container, curious eyes meeting yours. "What are you doing?" he asked, brows pinched together in confusion.

"Well," you started, sitting down across from him, "I wanted to have lunch with you. If that's okay."

He nodded slowly, setting his fork down and giving you his full attention. "Why?"

You let out a soft laugh as you began unpacking your lunchbag. "You're always sitting alone," you shrugged. "Figured I'd change that."

A tinge flooded the brunette man's cheeks. He looked away from you—though, he wasn't really looking directly at you in the first place—and focused his attention back on the Tupperware, poking around at his taco salad. He sent an understanding nod your way, as if unsure what to say next. You knew from experience that Spencer wasn't the most conversational person, having struggled with social cues, so you decided it was for the better to eat in peaceful silence.

The room remained comfortably quiet, a small space of availability staying open just in case Spencer had felt exceptionally talkative that day. You caught him occasionally glancing at you, like he'd wanted to close the small space you'd left open, but stayed silent anyway, wanting to finish his salad as quickly as humanly possible.

Finally, you decided to bite the bullet, so to speak, and crack the silence first. "Spencer, you know you can talk to us, right?"

He nodded, poking around at the ground beef that was left at the bottom of his bowl.

"I know things have probably been hard since…" your voice trailed off. Since what? Since prison? Since being locked in a cage for months? Since being tortured for days on end, probably?

"You can say the word, Y/N. It's not like it'll kill us to talk about," he grumbled, nearly under his breath. His eyes remained on the Tupperware, his cheeks heated as he continued to avoid your gaze.

"Spencer, I know it probably felt like you were alone in there," you started, your heart heavy as you thought about those agonizingly long three months he was stuck in that prison, "but I can assure you that you're not alone now. We're here for you. I'm here for you, Spence."

Finally, for what felt like the first time since he'd been locked up, his honey tinted eyes met yours, tears forming in them but not quite at the point of slipping down his cheeks. "I know, it's just… it's stupid."

"What's stupid?" you questioned, slightly hurt that he assumed you'd find whatever was bugging him ridiculous.

"The reason I keep leaving to eat lunch by myself. You guys are going to think it's stupid."

You weren't sure why you did it. You knew that Spencer wasn't a huge fan of physical touch, and it wasn't your place to do it anyway. Still, your hand moved across the table, your palm wrapping around Spencer's wrist, your delicate fingers seeming small in comparison to his giant hand. "Tell me. Please. I can't fix the problem if I don't know what's wrong, Spencer."

He looked down again, where your skin touched his, but didn't make any efforts to move. "I used to eat lunch every day at the same time by myself. Every day, at 12:07 p.m., I would sit alone at this table in the corner of the lunchroom. I made sure I was facing the door and facing everyone that came in, because I was getting so tired of having to watch my back every second that I was awake."

You placed your fork down before moving to sit down on Spencer's side of the picnic-style table, wrapping your arm around him. You knew it was ridiculous, putting your hands on him so many times in such a short span of time, but you couldn't really bring yourself to care. Your palm splayed across his spine, rubbing soft circles as he fell against your frame. Tears fell down his cheeks and onto your shirt, broken breaths and sobs escaping his lips.

"You're never gonna go back to that place. Not if I'm around to stop it," you reassured him, holding him ever so close. "You will never have to live like that ever again. I promise."

His chest rose and fell in quick movements as his tears picked up. "I'm so scared, Y/N. I'm scared of going back. I'm scared of never being my old self again. I'm just… terrified."

You held him like that until his tears had slowed, and when they picked back up a second time, you just kept on holding him. Every tear he hadn't cried in prison had surely made its way to the surface, but neither of you cared. Even when you knew it was much past when you should've gone back to work. Even when five minutes turned into ten, and when ten minutes turned into twenty, and so on.

Spencer's dark eyes met yours, his cheeks still damp with the leftover tears that hadn't quite dried yet. "Thank you."

You gave him a gentle smile, the back of your hand reaching up to wipe your own cheeks where you'd cried for him. "Always, Spence."

"Do you think…" he started to ask, gaze breaking yet again.

Your brows furrowed as you wondered what he wanted to ask. Your stomach flipped at all the possibilities. "Yeah?"

"Do you think we could start doing this every day?" he finally asked. "Just until I start to feel safe again."

You didn't even have to consider your answer. "I think that would be excellent."

-> taglist: @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @kbakery @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @cat-lockwood @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @mente-sindescanso @reverieofmgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia @reidselle @thevisionthedream @dungeons-are-too-cold @wwwonzeee @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahalstead5021 @cwritesforfun @soapiebear @maelartasch @buckyyyismahhlife @cynbx @hellooitsrose

[romirola]

For the first time since February 2020, I am sick. 🤒 As a distraction, I thought I'd share a bit of my current WIP. Under a cut because the full fic will be rated E for my typical brand of soft-smut. 18+ only, please!

I'm thinking this fic will be multiple chapters, and I always take the opportunity to remind people that I'm a SLOW writer. I don't start posting on AO3 until the story is drafted in full. It'll be awhile before this one gets to that stage, but oh, it has been a lot of fun to imagine so far.

“You’ve got a hypno-kink,” Milo repeated, giving a thoughtful nod. “So, what do we do about that?”

When Sweetheart had volunteered that information about themselves, Milo was shocked, to say the least. But he knew he needed to be strategic. One wrong move could make them retreat back into their defensive shell.

“I…” Sweetheart grimaced, feeling woefully unprepared for the conversation. “I don’t know,” they answered. “I thought you would think it was weird or something. I didn’t tell you to pressure you into it or anything like that. I’d never, ever want that.” Their hand found Milo’s under the covers and squeezed, the pulse matching the beat of the subtle song their core always sang when they were together. “I just thought you should know. Because I want you to know all of me, and that’s something about me.”

But Milo wanted more than just understanding. Much more. Understanding was a great start, but nowhere near the finish line he had in mind.

He eventually convinced Sweetheart to tell him all about their fantasies involving hypnosis that the stealth had spent far too long pretending were nonexistent or, at the very least, irrelevant. As they delved more into the topic, Milo began to connect the dots. It certainly was in character with Sweetheart. After all, time had shown that Sweetheart was something of a soft dom, which was a preference Milo knew quite well, being one himself. Still, the pair had never gotten caught up with rigid labels or limiting roles. They were way more focused on each other, frankly, and the love between them, to be concerned with trivial things like that. When their nights did veer more towards defined dynamics, however, both Milo and Sweetheart were content to trust each other to discover how to let things play out. It was a system that worked very, very well.

(some other stuff)

Slowly, and with constant prompting from Milo, Sweetheart had revealed more details about what drew them towards hypnotism.

“I like the idea of giving that kind of deep relaxation and guidance, to make you feel good. Accessing that control in a way that helps take away whatever might be holding you back— anxiety, insecurity, worry, whatever. And being in a position to do that for you…” Sweetheart’s thick eyebrows bounced twice. “I like the thought of that a lot. A lot a lot.”

In his quest to understand, Milo continued to press them for more details.

“Me being in the hypnotist's role,” Sweetheart declared with certainty when Milo asked them for more explanation. “And just to be clear, no, not in like a ‘I'll make you do things you don't want to do because I like power and control.’ Like a supervillain or something. Not at all like that.” Sweetheart swiped their flat palm across the air to emphasize their point. “For me, it's more about supporting you so you can do what you want to do and experience it in a really clear, pure way. Giving you that opportunity to just listen, to just be, to not even have to think, only feel. Maybe it’d take shape as me giving you cues that heighten your sensation or let you focus on pleasure,” Sweetheart explained. “Or…” They swallowed. “Maybe I’d have you on your knees, hot and begging and ready to obey any command I gave you.”

[middlenamesage]

What each sign teaches us plus some hard truths each might need to ask!

KEEP IN MIND we all have all the signs in our birth chart; whether those houses are “empty” or not, they still have influence. We also all experience transits through all the signs, and we even have progressed charts that account for the archetypes we get more into learning later on. So take WHATEVER resonates for you with any of this!

♈️🐏 Aries teaches us action and that action comes from us with the least resistance when we know and trust who we are as an individual.

Hard truth: Aries, have you been seeing yourself or living your life as though you’re a one-man island? You might think you’re stronger than others for your hyper-independence, but at times the greatest strength for YOU is recognizing and embracing what others have contributed to your life and to who you are. It could also behoove you to think of others or to think more carefully through potential outcomes before you act sometimes.

♉️🐂 Taurus teaches us personal peace by aligning our focus on what we need for material and psychological stability.

Hard truth: Taurus, have your values, personal preferences, or your attachment to possessions become overly rigid? While honoring our values and preferences and ensuring we have the necessary items for material security and comfort are an important part of the process in finding peace, total inflexibility about these things can end up sending you in the opposite direction of peace.

♊️🌬️ Gemini teaches us to gather objective information from the world around us, and how to communicate information.

Hard truth: Gemini, have you been looking down so many avenues of knowledge, that you haven’t allowed yourself the time and sustained focus to sort out your own philosophies, or go more into depth or meaning, around the subjects you’re learning? At times you should also strive to keep better track of what you’re communicating to people, and to focus on understanding the meaning you project with your words, not just the information provided by them.

♋️🦀 Cancer teaches us how to emotionally support ourselves and others (self nurturance is key for support of others to be most functionally helpful)

Hard truth: Cancer, have you become so focused on protecting yourself or others, that you’ve started to see danger where it doesn’t even exist? Careful, paranoia is not a good look for anyone, but especially not you. There’s a reason you have instincts to build walls around you, not unlike a crab retreating into its shell. 🦀 But if this becomes a default action and not just used when it’s actually needed to protect your space or safety, the function of your energy to support and nurture can not be as well realized.

♌️🦁 Leo teaches us confidence in authentic expression of self. Where the first fire sign teaches us confidence in establishing self, the next one teaches us how to implement authentic expression of oneself.

Hard truth: Leo, have you been going out of your way to seek input from others that your self expression is valid? Well cut that out if so, because that would defeat the entire purpose of practicing YOUR expression. YOU decide if it’s valid. I could also advise something like “be less self centered!”… but honestly that’ll just start to happen naturally once you’re actually authentically relying on your own validation only. 🦁

♍️🌾 Virgo teaches us how to take care of things in the practical realm. We wouldn’t have a functioning world around us in this physical plane if it weren’t for Virgoan energy assessing all the details of structures, systems, and routines… makes sense I’ve read from at least one source that Virgo is the most common Sun sign!

Hard truth: Virgo, have you gotten so up in your head, Mercury style, about the details of your routines or the tasks you need to do, that it’s become challenging to actually successfully or efficiently attend to them? When Virgo energy gets dysfunctional like this it could really take a cue from Mars/Aries. “Just do it!” Also, whenever you start to find yourself being especially critical of yourself or others, you could stand to remind yourself of the big picture dynamics, concepts, or goals you have in mind.

♎️⚖️ Libra teaches us interpersonal peace by putting the focus on compromise and balance.

Hard truth: Libra, if you’ve been going out of your way to appease others, you might need to ask yourself if this is because you truly care about what’s best for them, or if it’s a behavior more connected to lack of rootedness in YOURSELF that makes you averse to conflict? It’s important for you to try to get to know and exercise your authentic individuality. The South Node currently in Libra with the North Node in Aries can help anyone who wants to make progress here.

♏️🦂 Scorpio teaches us how to face our shadows and ultimately how to integrate them so that we may transform.

Hard truth: Scorpio, have you been so obsessed on analyzing your past for answers to why you are as you are, that you’ve forgotten to just focus on finding some personal peace in the moment? You could take a cue from your opposite/sister sign Taurus if you find yourself in this position. 🖤 Also, when it comes to your trust issues, two big things will ultimately help: 1.) Build your SELF trust through giving yourself the opportunities to make and carry out your own decisions (Scorpio is Mars too and needs to act!) and 2.) Use/cultivate your deep instincts about people to ensure it’s supportive people you have most around you, while doing whatever you can to keep the toxic ones out.

♐️🏹 Sagittarius teaches us how to form our beliefs and find meaning however it encourages you to expand.

Hard truth: Sagittarius, have you fallen into the trap of thinking the philosophies that give YOUR life meaning are the same beliefs that others need to adopt? WHOA back up there buckaroo! It’d behoove you to remember that Sagittarius is a fire sign, so it deals with some personal aspects of our individuality. Not everyone will find inspiration to expand from the same designations of meaning as you, and you need to learn to not try to push your worldviews on anyone who isn’t receptive.

♑️🐐 Capricorn teaches us how to build structure and commit to a long term goal/vision/plan.

Hard truth: Capricorn, have you become so blinded by your personal standards for quality or by what it is you’re trying to build to be a certain way, that anyone or anything that does not fit neatly into your structure appears as a threat or a reason to give up hope to you? At times you could stand to gain a little more flexibility and optimism. Setbacks do not mean the end, and if you could fast forward over your life you would see this, so if you’re having trouble seeing it now, try to see if you can regain a bit of the hopeful outlook from the sign that came just before you. I promise the capacity is within you. 😉

♒️🏺 Aquarius teaches us the ins and outs of society so that we may reflect on what we as an individual can bring to it or help liberate it.

Hard truth: Aquarius, have you been viewing yourself so much as an outsider, that it’s tempting to see yourself as separate from the rest of society? Well I have a hard truth for you: You’re not separate from it and not above it; no one is. And it’s especially dysfunctional for YOU to see yourself as a distinct and separate entity not influenced by society, or as too different from everyone else to be able to relate to them- society needs your insightful contribution!

♓️🐟 Pisces teaches us empathy and fosters our imagination through the understanding that everything is connected.

Hard truth: Pisces, have you been seeing yourself as the victim? You really need to hear that if you would just cut that out and start seeing yourself instead as an empowered dreamer with strong intuition you can continually cultivate, your ability to manifest* would be arguably the most insane of all the signs. (*Not that I support the idea that everything can be attained through manifestation alone.) Take it from a Pisces rising who learned the hard way and is feeling inspired to expand on this one: victimhood is The most detrimental trap for Pisces. Not only because it keeps your reality feeling like that of a victim, but also because Pisces energy is nearly functionally useless if it’s too self absorbed to ever see or act according to the Piscean message of interconnectedness. Learning the right amount to give compassionately of yourself, with the appropriate boundaries, is a crucial part of the Piscean journey!

Thanks for reading, and happy astrological evolution! 🌻

[drdemonprince]

How do you maintain a healthy relationship with exercise as someone with a history of disordered exercising? Asking for me

I'm an eating disorder harm reductionist, not a perfectionist. Some of my ED behaviors exist to help me regulate my anxiety and impose structure on an unpredictable world, and I don't care about getting rid of those impulses anymore, I try to just work with them. I'm not especially worried about whether my relationship to exercise is "healthy", because what would that even mean -- normal? not obsessive? I've never been those things. so long as I take steps to minimize any damage I do to my body with my behaviors, i'm satisfied.

Lifting weights and being on T has been a good middle ground for me in a lot of ways. a brief lifting session in the morning gives me the sensation of having generated some endorphins, which makes me less likely to self-harm or behave impulsively, and it does so without requiring a ridiculous time commitment the way my long, long aerobic exercise sessions used to do. I used to miss a lot of special occasions with friends and holidays etc because I would spend so much time exercising every day, mostly as a stim and a way to offload stress. now the exercise I do can easily get squeezed into my downtime without taking away from other important things in my life.

strength training doesn't damage my joints or tendons the way that aerobic shit did; rather, it strengthens them. This kind of physical activity makes me hungrier and requires that I ingest enough protein, which motivates me to eat more, and i do tend to need that external motivation because otherwise i'll forget. being a muscle bro is also all very silly and stupid, which makes it easier for me to laugh at myself and not see the whole thing as super dire the way a restrictive eating disorder + exercise bulimia felt.

I still cling very obsessively to a set exercise schedule, but I don't see that as inherently eating disordered, it can just as easily be a very Autistic self-regulation thing. i honestly first started lifting weights in 2018-2019 because i was craving the endorphins from enduring pain HEAVILY, and would have really impulsive BDSM sex with complete strangers to get a pain rush without any prior negotiation or forethought, and i wasn't really looking after my safety. but i noticed that when i put myself through the controlled "pain" of lifting weights every few days, my desire to behave completely recklessly subsided and i could get by with having kinky sex more sporadically, and with actual planning and safety protocols being on the table instead of just pulling the first rando i could find on fetlife.

if someone believes in total eating disorder recovery/abstinence, they'd probably still look at my rigid adherence to a lifting schedule and my tendency to not feel hunger cues and my fixation on getting enough protein and think that i was still fucked up, but i feel physically the most energized and strong that i ever have in my life, my exercise regimen does not consume my daily schedule the way it once did, i dont think about my body size at all anymore, and i self-harm less and take fewer risks. so. seems pretty good to me.

harm reduction and a personalized recognition of one's needs > health

[daisymerollingg]

“I Will” | Speed-o’-sound sonic

Genre: Fluff. Fluff. Cheesy ahh fluf Pairing: speed-o’-sound sonic x reader

I will, by Mitski

Nothing could be heard from your lonesome apartment but your steady breathing and the hum of the city below. It had been a long day for you, too many errands to take care of, too many people to interact with, too much noise to absorb. By the end of the day, you were well-drained from the once full social battery you had that morning, and you had come back home, kicked off your shoes with little to no care of where they were thrown, and collapsed on the comforting haven that was your bed, a heavy breath of pent up exhaustion escaping your chest

Yet, even then, your eyes stay wide open as you lay on your bed, motionless. Your eyelids were heavy yet there was an invisible force tugging them open every time you tried to allow yourself to rest. No matter how much you turned or what position you lay in, that heavy sensation on your chest just never seemed to ease, it was starting to irritate you.

Your head instinctively moved to the sound of small, almost unnoticeable creaking coming from your windowsill, the soft wind combing through the hair of the silhouette crouched on your window.

Your eyes lit up and your body relaxed as you made eye contact with the figure. You now knew what your heart was nagging at this quiet night.

"Sonic," you let out a breathy whisper, your voice laced with something akin to relief. Speed-of-sound Sonic couldn't deny the warmth that crept up his form with your voice.

You sat up from your bed and moved toward him, and as if on cue, Sonic stepped off the window, his footsteps as calculated as precise as his eyes, no sound, not even a shuffle could be heard from him. Warmth enveloped you as you stood before him, your hands reaching out to caress the back of his forearms.

"You always come when I need you." You said softly. Sonic in his usual fashion looked down at you, calm and composed, but he felt a faint constriction in himself.

Why do you always say things like this?

"I was just passing by." He muttered, quilling the urge to break eye contact with you, in fear it might showcase a vulnerable side of him he wouldn't hope for you to see. You continued to smile at him, your features showing nothing but genuine intent.

His body stood tall before you, almost in an effort to convey how steady he was. The truth was however, he was anything but steady in your presence. Every look, every word of yours that made its way to him always left him in a mental haze. All of it was so real, so warm, it was too overwhelming for him.

Your hands slid from his arms down to his hands, every spot your fingers brushed over stiffening under your touch. Your hands gently curled around his, swinging lightly in an almost playful manner.

"I'm glad you're here anyway." Your voice was so gentle it made him feel like you were sucking his soul out of him. He subtly sucked in a sharp breath from his nose, trying his best to keep his cool as he stared into your gleaming gaze.

Your fingers uncurled themselves from his hands and moved to press against his chest, causing him to grow visibly tense. You stilled at his rigid response, expecting him, or rather giving him the opportunity to move away or pry your hands off him, but he didn't.

Your hands moved to wrap around his torso, one hand gently holding his nape, pulling him closer as you leaned your face into his shoulder. You could hear the racing pace of his heartbeat against his collar, and you took in a deep breath in response, feeling your stress seeping out of your muscles as your body pressed against his.

"You don't need to come here," you started, your voice so low only he could make out what you were saying. It was as if those words were reserved solely for his ears. "But you show up anyway."

He swallowed hard, the intensity of this whole moment suffocating him in a way he couldn't even describe. He was still stiff against you, unsure of what to do with himself. He was always thrown off balance by your closeness, he hated that feeling furiously, but he continued to come back.

"You say it like it's a choice." He said, his head moving down slightly to get a better look at you.

"Isn't it?" You let out a small chuckle.

The truth was: he wasn't sure, he never planned on being in your life, being a part of this routine, having these distracting feelings that he resented yet adored so much that he protected them and the person that he harbored them for. He felt stuck around you. Every time he'd try to run, try to do what he was best at, it was like he didn't even know what the word 'run' meant.

"How was your day?" You whispered, your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned further into him. He frowned slightly at your question.

"It was normal...?" He answered, but it came off more of a question. He wasn't sure what he thought of his day. What an unusual question. "Why are you doing this?"

"Hm? I just want to listen to you talk. With you here. With me." Your voice continued to send chills down his spine with every word.

"Why...?" His voice was low, vibrating throughout your body, making you relax further into him.

"I care about you." You simply answered, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Why? Why would you spend your time and effort caring and thinking about him? He couldn't wrap his head around it. He wasn't a good person, anything but a good person. He had done nothing good for this world or any creature that roamed it yet you still held him and looked at him like he was the only person deserving of your love.

He wasn't, though, how could he of all people be deserving of something so gentle, something so precious? He didn't deserve this affection, he knew that full well yet you still...

He knew he had done nothing to earn this tenderness, to earn you, but he was going to cup it in his hands as gently as his gruff hands could muster and protect it until the cruel world decided he had had enough of it.

His arms moved to wrap around your body, pulling you closer to him as he buried his face into your neck. A soft almost shaky breath escaped his lungs.

"You don't have to." He whispered almost defeatedly.

"But, I want to." You replied, your grin widening as you felt him reciprocate your embrace. "I will." A tranquil silence fell upon you for a few moments. The rhythms of your hearts beating against the other, your quiet, heavy breaths syncing with the other. Sonic had never imagined he would be in a situation like this, yet he would never complain about it. He shifted his head so that his cheek was resting against your head.

"I trained a lot today, I had a nice breakfast. I went grocery shopping. The fruits were fresh, that was nice. No heroes noticed me, even though I wasn't doing much to stay hidden. Just proves how irrelevant they are." He spoke. And felt his heart flutter as your laughs echoed throughout the room.

"Well, I'm glad the fruit were fresh." You said, slowly swaying your body. He nodded, his face still pressed against you, a ghost of a smile now adorning his features.

[speciallivery]

I got tagged by @valentin1k, thank you! I love dropping snippets <3

rules: tagger gives a word, then for each letter of that word you share an excerpt from your WIPs that start with that letter.

I got the word RICE I will be passing along: TALK

R

“Right - My name is Captain Bagnaia,” The human, -Bagnaia- swallows. He raises an eyebrow. “Can you tell me what is yours?” Marc closes his mouth with the click of his teeth and shakes his head.  “You can’t speak then?” Bagnaia furrows his brows and sighs with something Marc places as small relief. Marc is inclined to agree, afterall speechmaking is such an awfully human trait. It would anthropomorphize Marc too much in front of his wardens. His fitted larynx shifts forward. There’s bile rising up in his throat, it tastes like survival.  “I promise you, we will not harm you.” The man speaks in an amiable voice, just for Marc. Another thing meant just for Marc, is the question hidden in the unsteady thumping of Bagnaia’s heart’s gradual crescendo. Please, mermaid, promise me to return the favour.

I

“I had plans —” Marc says.  “ — To have sex, no?”  Valentino says slyly as he kicks off his shoes and sprawls out on the couch. “Your plans were to fuck.”  Marc stops himself from turning red in the face by focussing on the white-hot heath of the anger that’s creeping up his spine. “Yes, but you weren’t part of that.”  “I know, poor Pecco, however will he cope.”  Marc huffs,“who says my plans have changed?” He can just send Valentino Rossi away and still text Pecco and have a good time celebrating his win, instead of — instead of, well, whatever this is supposed to be.  “I do. Now fetch me a beer from the fridge. I know you keep them for post-race celebrations.”  And Valentino looks at him, like that. That all-knowing, uncaring smile. Marc very nearly crumbles. He tells himself to keep his spine rigid when he — as if compelled — moves over to the fridge anyway. 

C

Captain Bagnaia comes to talk to him at least once a day, albeit briefly. He had anxiously tried to bargain with Marc, for Marc to please stop the shrieking sibilation. Please tell me if you are displeased, please, my men need their sleep. (And so does he).  But how could Marc? Bagnaia brings him two fish daily and Marc swallows them whole. He cannot tell Bagnaia that mermaids disfavour fish as it sustains but does not fill, does not soothe. Gnawing hunger has rooted itself bitingly into Marc’s guts. It leaves him vacant, wearied - not ravenous.  “What was that?” Bagnaia asks. “I-” Marc repeats, his voice hoarse and unpractised. “I can… not…eat fish.” Bagnaia pales. He looks at Marc with bewildered horror, like Marc has magically managed to set seawater ablaze.  “Okay,” he exhales, shakily. He rakes a hand through his hair, “okay.”  Dialogue is greatly gratifying.   “By…the by - Marc.” He tries; it’s short syllables to start with. “My - name is… Marc.”  “Marc-” captain Bagnaia echo’s. “Okay, sure -Marc.”  Marc concludes that he likes the sound of his own voice.

E

“Eh,” Oscar regains himself, it’s quite unusual that he misses his target. “That was a warning shot,” he deadpans.  “Fucking hell, Dan are you okay?” Lando — no last name given, yells at Ricciardo whilst he aims his gun at Oscar, hand trembling.  “No, fuck, he just shot me!” “He did,” says Mark. “But like he said, that was a warning shot, now drop both of your weapons, because the next one will hit something vital.”  Oscar takes that as his cue to take aim again. The Honey Badger and Lando. Turns out, it is their lucky day.

Tagging some writer friends <3 @fall0utmind @carbonmono @localsealboy (or the starwars side blog) @toxicrivalries @charleslelurk @neptunescore and @onboardsorasora

[desceros]

Re: ableism w/Symphony Donnie: Definitely some internalized ableism but I think that’s unfortunately due to not many people knowing what exactly neurodivergence looks like and how people with it processes things differently.

Like, honestly, my biggest gripe was the recording and even that, for the SPECIFIC context of this story and Donnie as a character, it makes sense. Does it make it right? No, but if Donnie never had to think about these things before, for him it’s the same as recording everything to protect his family. Just something he does.

Also, even though my heart broke with Reader’s at her realization, MULTIPLE times reader has said Donnie says what he means and even at the beginning with the “I like you” thing I was like, “Girl, I’m going to need you to define the relationship with him.”

And I think, with Leo, even when writer’s do write him as neurodivergent, what I’ve read always has him as the he better masker whether it’s explicitly said or not. Idk if Symphony Leo is neurodivergent or not but STILL, reader has picked up that he’s good with masking which usually comes off as charming or “easy breezy beautiful cover girl”.

Idk, maybe because I know a lot of people like Donnie irl but if anything I was more frustrated at the obvious miscommunication between both of them than him directly, because as reader said, she projected her feelings on to him when he’s been super direct with his intentions.

Basically, there are sometimes where I wish people would just realize that processing the same thing between two people doesn’t always look the same and that one isn’t necessarily bad.

well-said, anon-chan!

edit: this got SPOILER!! HEAVY!! for chap. 22 and also soooo long so i'm going to tuck it under a cut. but here's some meta on symphony to explore this a bit since it's something that's very important to me and also... pretty critical to the fic itself! i don't typically like explaining myself outside of the text and letting the fic itself speak but. hm. i suppose i shall let it slide for today!

as you all have hopefully noticed by now, as an author, i like to be. hm. more subtle with things. i prefer to tuck things away versus having things be blatant in the text. and this is kind of coming back to bite me a little with donnie and his neurodivergence, i suspect.

i've tried pretty hard to make it contextually obvious that donnie's autistic. i've all but used the word. the way he behaves and communicates is heavily autism-coded.

meanwhile, the story is from viola-chan's pov, and she's neurotypical-coded (well. as much as i, an adhd-riddled autistic cat in a trenchcoat can manage).

as a result, she doesn't... pick up on donnie's problems with communication. not right away. but here, in this chapter, we see where she finally figures out what their issue has been the entire time:

…Oh. Oh god.  He really doesn’t get it. You’d known, of course, that Donnie wasn’t great with people. That he doesn’t communicate well. He doesn’t pick up on cues, or use them himself. No wonder he’s always so frank in his language, you realize. No wonder he’s so comforted by the firm rigidities of science. No wonder he looked so lost. No wonder he was so perplexed.

then, she puts that into practice by being specific and precise with how she talks. and we see that she now knows how to communicate with him in a way that works for both of them. and it works for them:

God; it’s like—a breath of fresh air, you think, staring at him in a little bit of awe. It’s so easy to talk to him, now that you’re just… letting it all out. Being honest. Frank. Infuriating that you hadn’t done this earlier. Feeling your irritation deflate, you nod. “…Okay. You just—need an explanation. Clarification.” “Yes, please,” Donnie gushes, fretting a little.

it's going to take some work. she still takes things he says personally and extrapolates past them (the whole "leo being an important person" thing). but she immediately nips it in the bud and is like. no. we're not doing that anymore. so, going forward, her relationship with donnie is one that's built on learning how to develop this open communication.

of course, it's not perfect, because they're human. donnie twisting her arm into still talking to him by calling in the favor is shitty behavior. a desperate bid to keep someone close that, for some reason, he can't imagine being without. not cool. the recordings of them having sex were shitty behavior to us, people who Know Better. but when violist-chan said 'hey, that's not cool, don't do that' and donnie was given a reason why not to, he just says ok. he might not understand ("but i record everything"). but he acknowledges that there's a concern there, and he agrees to be more conscientious in the future (having a consent sheet).

now then, let's look at leo's behavior in comparison.

donnie's biggest fault was that he didn't know to check in and make sure they were on the same page with everything. leo's fault, on the other hand, is purposeful, manipulative, and cruel. his open admission that he's been manipulating her from the beginning. manipulating donnie. lying to her.

to me, this is much, much worse than what donnie did. even knowing that at some point he starts developing friendly feelings towards her—and some of their interactions were indeed genuine!—i'm with violist-chan here. i'm not going to be digging through every one trying to parse out which ones were real and which ones were him being a dickhead. they're all tainted by the stain of betrayal.

also. because it has come up in a different ask that i will be publishing probably tomorrow bc of spoiler reasons: someone said something to the effect of 'why didn't he just not say anything? he could have taken that to his grave. how selfish'. i will remind you of a conversation between violist-chan and leo that happened in the previous chapter:

“Most of all, he’s honest,” you keep going, tangling your fingers together, staring down at the way they knot at your waist. “If he says something, I can take it at face value. There’s no hidden meaning. Nothing deeper. If he says something feels good, I know it feels good. If he says he likes something, he likes it. If he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it. If he asks for something, I don’t need to ask if he’s sure. He asks, so he’s sure. It—It’s a breath of fresh air. If I want to know what he’s thinking, really thinking, all I have to do is ask. And...”  [...] Leo’s still as stone for a few moments longer, looking at you like he’s trying to decide if he wants to say something; but finally he relaxes and comes back to you himself. Reaching out, he flicks your forehead, causing you to wince and rub at it.

i think... leo maybe wouldn't have ever said anything about it. but then you said this. how donnie matters to you because he's honest. there's nothing deeper with him. it's all at face value. you never have to worry about what he's doing, what he's thinking. and that i think... really messed with leo. because he knows he hasn't been honest with you. you can't trust what he says at face value. you do have to worry about what he's doing. and for you to say that that's the main thing you love about donnie—it messed with him. so, even though he knew it would jeapordize the relationship with you, even knowing he wanted to put this off for as long as he could, even though, even though, he decides he has to tell you. he has to come clean.

so even though it feels like shitty, selfish behavior... it's actually him trying to do right by her for a change. to conform to what she looks for in a relationship (both romantic and platonic). it just... didn't go over so well, predictably. most people don't like hearing that not one, but two of their most precious relationships were built on a foundation of misunderstandings or lies.

side note. i do headcanon leo as having adhd that primarily manifests itself as an inattentive form. i don't suspect it has much to do with his behavior here... save perhaps for some possible rsd being triggered when violist-chan is like 'ok actually go fuck yourself i'm out of here.' i don't find it particularly relevant to the discussion of ableism, in this context.

so anyway. long post aside. it's... interesting to me. to see people saying 'actually fuck both donnie and leo equally!!! bleh bleh bleh!!!!' i don't know that it's. hm. active ableism. i'm certainly not accusing anyone of the sort. but it is, at the very least, indicative to me that there are a lot of people who don't read into the text as deeply as perhaps i would like on certain character traits, if i had a magic wand to wave.

....and also perhaps just ableism, haha.

[abigailkendallwrites]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 20

Hours later, I knock quietly on Garrick’s door, already undoing the wards I set myself on his room. 

I’m dead on my feet, so emotionally and physically spent that I’m considering turning around and, quite literally, crawling to bed when the door swings open and Garrick’s face lights up with surprise. “What’s up?” 

I hold up a heavy jug of Beirm, and he cracks a grin, stepping aside. “Oh, do come in, brother.”

I walk in, popping the cork before Garrick can shut the door, and take a long swig, swallowing down the bitter liquid.

Garrick replaces the wards on his door and sits in one of the four chairs surrounding a small rectangular table pushed against the far wall.

I set the jug on the table with a heavy thunk and remove my jacket before sliding into the chair across from him. He swigs from the jug and smacks his lips. 

“Gods, that’s good.”

“It was…needed after this morning.” I rub my eyes, trying to push the exhaustion back with my fingers.

“I honestly can’t believe it went down like that. Amber Mavis breaking the rules.” He pauses, taking another pull of Beirm. “Fucking Dain too.”

“Fuck him. Gods fuck him.” I seethe. “I have my suspicions about Amber’s rather extreme reaction.”

Garrick looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “Ah. Dain.”

“Yup.” I say, my lips smacking out a pop of disdain as I take the jug from Garrick and chug. “Those two were absolutely hooking up all last year. I have no doubt she either saw or heard about Dain and Violet’s very public kiss.”

“After Violet’s little rule bending during the Gauntlet?” I nod in confirmation and Garrick clicks his tongue sardonically. “ Insult to injury.”

There’s a knock at the door, followed by Bodhi and Imogen’s voices floating through the solid wood.

“Xaden, I saw you walk over here with a jug in your hand. We want in!” Bodhi whisper-shouts through the door. 

“Yeah, you guys aren’t the only ones who had a shitty day.” Imogen adds and the door knob rattles violently.

Garrick and I share a look, and I push myself out of my chair. 

I smirk, whispering back through the door. “There’s not enough for sharing with second-years.” The handle rattles harder in response.

I open the door and they slip inside, Imogen sliding into the chair next to Garrick. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed and Garrick stiffens imperceptibly. He’s still as death as Imogen settles into her chair.

He stares at her forearms, which she’s propped up on the table for a heartbeat and then relaxes, setting his own arms on the table, their elbows brushing against each other as whatever wall he tried to build between them disintegrates at her proximity.

“That was quite the scene today, Xaden.” Bodhi smiles and raises his eyebrows in amusement.

I slide back into my seat, crossing an ankle over my knee and leaning back against the chair

“Yeah.” I force out through my teeth. “Can we just drink, please?” I shove the jug at Bodhi. 

He grins wider and hooks his fingers around the neck of the bottle, swigging with a gulp. 

The sensation slams into me like a truck.

My body goes rigid,  hands clenching into fists on the table. 

My mental shield barely softens the unfiltered lust that crushes into me. Images and feelings flood my brain, the wind ripping through my wings as I tumble. The feel of fangs and claws and crippling need have me swaying in my seat.

The table goes still, everyone inspecting me warily. They’ve been present on more than one occasion where Tairn and Sgaeyl’s intimacy has sent me spiraling.

My normal response would be to run to Orla’s room and beg for some kind of release until the two dragons are done.

Which is, very decidedly, not an option. 

Bodhi makes a loud kissing noise, and I realize I’ve been staring down at the table for the last minute.

I blink rapidly and clear my throat. “Well, that’s my cue.” I huff and stand, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair.

Garrick’s eyes narrow on me, “Where are you going?”

“Orla’s room, obviously,” Imogen answers for me with a smirk.

“No.” The word comes out clipped. “I– that’s not happening anymore.”

Imogen and Bodhi both raise their eyebrows in disbelief.

I shrug on my jacket, not bothering to spare them a glance.

Fucking children.

“Keep the Bierm, kiddos.” I give them a backwards wave over my shoulder as I walk to the door.

“Xaden.” Garrick calls, warning in his tone. I turn, cocking an eyebrow. Another wave of desire courses low in my gut, and grit my teeth, my eyes darting down to the floor. 

I’d prefer not to look at Garrick like I want to fuck him.

“Xaden.” Garrick repeats, and my eyes turn back up to meet his. “Be smart.” It doesn’t take me more than a breath to realize what he’s implying.

Violet.

“Yea. I will be.”

I leave, stalking to my room in silence. Garrick’s warning doesn’t have the desired effect.

Instead, it’s become a pounding chant in my head, a summons to turn in the other direction and run to Violet’s room. 

I reach my door and shove it open, walking to my desk and pulling out a jar of churam and a stack of thin rectangular paper I keep stashed there. 

I hold the paper in one hand and pop open the lid to the churam with the other, grabbing a few buds between my fingers. The sticky plant leaves a residue on my fingers as I crumble it, letting the leaves fall into the paper and rolling it into a thick cone.

I run my tongue along the crease, sealing it closed and pocket the cigarette. Screwing the lid back on the jar, I throw my supplies back into the desk, and grab a pack of matches on my way out the door.

Quick, efficient, and deeply necessary right now.

I practically run out of the citadel, relishing the cold air on my skin.

I shed my jacket, dropping it to the snowy ground, and lean back against the stone wall, closing my eyes and checking to make sure my mind is firmly grounded.

A quick strike of the match has the coned cigarette burning, and I take a long inhale of the earthy smoke. My lungs ache and I hold the smoke in my lungs, letting it burn out the heat that’s pulsing low in my gut.

My control has slipped into a relaxed calm from the churam’s effect, and my signet is out in full force, picking up small shadows all around me, curling, directionless across the ground. I sense Violet in the shadows before she makes it out of the stairwell. 

She burst out into the cold air, eyes wild and breathing heavy. I take a lazy drag and watch as she tips her head back, savoring the snow on her face.

She looks so peaceful, her eyes closed and mouth parted, tipped up in the faintest smile.

Her eyes fly open and her peaceful expression is broken as she spins around to face me.

“Is  that…churam?” Violet is visibly shocked.

I exhale, the smoke mixing with my breath. “Want some? Unless you’re here to continue our earlier argument, in which case, none for you,” my tone teasing.

Her jaw drops, “No! We’re not allowed to smoke that!”

“Yeah, well, the people who made that rule obviously weren’t bonded to Sgaeyl and Tairn, now were they?” An easy smirk curling my lips.

Violet just stares, her eyes like hot coals. There’s no question that she’s being equally as affected.

“It helps with…distancing yourself.” I hold out the churam and lift an eyebrow in question. “Beyond what shielding does, of course.”

Violet shakes her head and walks over, leaning back on the wall next to me.

I’m openly staring, and I can’t bring myself to look away as she rests her head on the stone.

“Suit yourself.” I take a long, deep inhale, praying to every god that exists that it’s enough to keep my head on straight.

For Violet’s sake, I tap the lit end of the cigarette against the wall, putting it out. 

“I feel like I’m on fucking fire.” She groans.

“Yeah. That happens.” I laugh, and it comes out low and throaty. I look out at the snowy landscape and smile broadly at the outrageousness of it all. Violet and I tied together like this. 

My nightmare and my daydream.

Violet turns and looks at me for long enough that I turn my gaze to hers. 

There’s something dark and wicked and hungry in her expression and my chest flares at the intensity of it.

“Oh, Violence, you’re going to have to learn to shield against Tairn, or his escapades with Sgaeyl will drive you mad–or into someone’s bed.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and a grimace spreads across her face. “Oh, I know. I am horrified to see Liam again.”

“Liam? Why?” I pivot to face her, leaning my shoulder against the wall. “Where the hell is your bodyguard?”

“I’m my own bodyguard.” She snaps, but her words are missing their usual bite. She rests her cheek against the cold stone. “And he’s in bed.”

My quiet, churam hazed brain is suddenly on high alert, a stream of thoughts filling the once empty space. “Your bed?” I question in alarm.

She slowly opens her eyes and examines my face with a little too much clarity. “No. Not that it should matter to you.” 

Right. She’s right. I’m not in any position to dictate who she does or doesn’t sleep with.

The monster inside of me starts snarling at the flat out denial. “It doesn’t matter to me as long as you’re both consenting.” Liar. “And trust me, you’re in no condition to consent.”

Violet narrows her eyes at me. “You have no clue what I’m capable of consenting–” She wobbles and her knees start to buckle as a wave of  hot, needy desire rocks into us both. 

She’s so small that I have to lean down to scoop her up, my fingers spreading across her waist to keep her from falling.

The desire is heavier than usual tonight, but she shouldn’t be incapacitated by it. “Why the hell aren’t you shielding?”

“Not all of us have been given lessons!” She’s practically yelling. “He just started channeling before all…this, and in case you forgot, you’re only allowed to attend Professor Carr’s class if you can wield.”

My hand is still firmly spread across her abdomen, even though she’s perfectly steady on her feet. I don’t want to let her go.

“Always thought that was a ridiculous rule.” I sigh. “All right. Crash course. Only because I’ve been where you are and woken up with more than a few regrets.”

Violet looks at me in surprise. “You’re actually going to help me?”

“I’ve been helping you for months.” My hand involuntarily tightens around her for a breath. 

“No, you sent Liam to help. He’s been helping me for months.” Her brow furrows. “Weeks. Almost months. Whatever.”

I cock my head to the side, leaning in. She cannot be serious. “I’m the one who burst through your door and killed everyone who attacked you, and then I removed the other threat to your life with a very public, very polarizing display of vengeance. Liam didn’t do that. I did.” 

Why am I defending myself against Liam? Like I need her to choose me over my brother. 

There’s no choice to be had. 

“The crowd wasn’t polarized. They were all for it. I was there.”

“You were torn. In fact, you begged Tairn not to kill her, damn well knowing she’d just come after you again.”

“Fine. but let’s not pretend that you didn’t do most of that for yourself. It would be inconvenient for you if I died.” She shrugs.

Is she fucking kidding? Does she actually believe there was anything convenient for me about executing another wingleader? “You know what?” I start. “We’re not fighting tonight. Not if you want to learn how to shield.”

“Fine. We’re not fighting. Teach me.” She tilts her chin up and I temper the desire to grab it in my hand and kiss her.

“Ask me nicely.” I order, leaning into her.

“Have you always been this tall?” She blurts. 

“No. I was a child at some point.” I answer, my tone bored. 

She rolls her eyes.

“Ask me nicely, Violence,” I lean in closer, whispering. “Or I’m gone.”

Her eyes go hazy with lust as another wave of pleasure and pain crests and breaks. “How often is it like this with them?,” she says desperately

“Often enough that you’re going to need proper shields. You won’t ever be able to block them out completely, and sometimes they forget to block us, like tonight, but at least it’s like walking by a brothel instead of actively participating in one.”

She huffs. “Right then. All right. Will you teach me to shield?”

My mouth spreads into a wide, teasing smile. “Say please.” She glances down at my mouth, and I dig through my brain for something, anything to distract me from the way her lips part as she stares.

I come up short.

“Are you always this difficult?” 

“Only when I know I have something you need. What can I say? I like making you squirm; it’s like a sweet little slice of payback for what you’ve put me through these last couple of months.” Snow is sticking to her hair and I brush it off with the back of my hand, my fingers catching in the stands.

“What I’ve put you through?” She questions incredulously.

I raise my eyebrows at her, “You’ve scared me nearly to death once or twice, so I think saying please is a fair request.”

She takes a deep breath and swats at a snowflake that’s landed on the tip of her nose, and I almost melt into the ground. What should be a cute, endearing gesture just looks sexy as hell on her.

She amazes me.

“As you prefer. Xaden?” Violet smiles up through her lashes at me, inching in a little closer. “Would you pretty, pretty please teach me how to shield before I accidentally climb you like a tree and we both wake up with regrets?”

I smile back at her, my eyes crinkling. “Oh, I’m firmly in control of faculties.” Barely. “And since you asked so nicely.” I stand up straight and pull her to me.

As if my brain has totally left my body, I reach out, taking her face in my hands, relishing in the warmth of her soft skin beneath my fingers, and then slide them back to cup the back of her head as she stares up at me. “Close your eyes.” I order softly.

“It requires touching me?” Her voice is breathy, and her eyes flutter closed.

I’m drunk on the feel of Violet’s skin against my fingers. “Not at all. Just one of the perks of not thinking too clearly. You have incredibly touchable skin.”

I ignore her sharp intake of breath, steering the conversation back to helping her ground before I can make another damning remark.

“You need to envision somewhere. Anywhere. I prefer the top of my favorite hillside near what's left of Aretia. Wherever it is, it needs to feel like home.”

Her brows furrow in thought and then relax. “Feel your feet hit the ground and dig in some.” I continue.

“Got it.” She says a heartbeat later.

“That’s called grounding, keeping your mental self somewhere so you aren’t swept away by the power. Now call to your power. Open your senses.”

Her face bunches up in pain and she sways on her feet. I hold her head in my hands steadying her as she takes in an inexhaustible well of power.

“Focus on your feet. Stay grounded. Can you see where the power flows from? If not, just pick a place.”

She breathes in deeply and exhales, her breath hot against my throat. “I see it.” she replies after a moment.

“Perfect. You’re a natural.” She’s remarkable. 

The magic she’s performing is complex, something that requires such perfect mental precision most people don’t manage it for weeks. 

I’ve always recognized how truly exceptional she is, but the ease in which she masters this still surprises me.

And yet it doesn’t surprise me at all. “It takes most people a week just to learn how to ground. Now, do whatever you need to mentally do to wall yourself off from that current. Tairn is the source. You block that power, and you’ll have some control back.”

My own control is deteriorating as desire pools through me in another crashing wave from Sgaeyl and Tairn. I can feel myself start to harden and I close my eyes in concentration.

Violet’s hands fly up to grip my forearms and her eyelids twitch as the power threatens to overwhelm her.

“You’ve got this.” I sat softly. Her eyes remain closed and I use the opportunity to openly study her, the intensity of her focus, the magic that is her mind as she unravels this complex shielding. “Whatever you create in your mind is real to you. Shut off the valve. Build a wall. Whatever makes sense.

“It’s a door.” Her hands tighten around me.

Good girl, Violence. 

“There you go. Keep going.”

She’s trembling in my grip, and her face is bunched up in concentration. 

I want to put my mouth on her.

“I’ve got the door shut.”

I want to touch every inch of her, claim her with my hands, my teeth, my cock.

“Great. Lock it.”

I want to trail my tongue down her body, licking and sucking as I move lower. I desperately want to taste her.

“It changed. I can see through the door.” Her voice is lighter, less strained.

“Yeah. You’ll never be able to fully block him. Got it locked?”

She nods.

“Open your eyes, do your best to keep that door locked. It means keeping one foot grounded. Don’t be surprised if it slips. We’ll start again.”

A desperate, pathetic part of me wants it to slip. I want to start again, to repeat this moment in time where I can feel her on my skin for as long as possible.

She blinks up at me through heavy lidded eyes.

“He’s…” Violet trails off, unable to describe the unquenchable desire that comes with Tairn and Sgaeyl’s mating bond.

My eyes are locked on her face, held prisoner by the sheer adoration that’s bloomed within me. The way I feel about her has moved past all pretenses of sexual desire.

Obsessed. I am completely and utterly obsessed with Violet Sorrengail. 

“You are astonishing.” I shake my head in wonder. “I couldn’t do that for weeks.” 

“Guess I have a superior teacher.” She says.

And then she smiles at me.

Not a mocking smile, but a real, brilliant smile that lights the space between us, and it might be the most incredible thing that I’ve ever experienced to feel all of that joy directed at me.

 My thumbs sweep over the soft skin under her ears and my gaze drops down to her mouth.

I pull her toward me, intent on finally giving in. 

And then Garrick’s words hum through me.

“Be smart.” 

I let go before I can pull her any closer and step back. “Damn it. Touching you was a bad idea.”

“The worst,” Violet breathes, her tongue skimming her lower lip.

The groan I’ve been holding in since I first touched her slips out. Violet’s eyes heat at the sound. “Kissing you would be a cataclysmic mistake.” I add, and there’s not an ounce of conviction in my words.

“Calamitous.” Violet agrees with a nod. My heart races into a pounding gallop at the want in her eyes. 

To know she wants this as much as I do, that she wants me feels like a fire in my chest, burning its way through my control. 

“We’ll both regret it.” I shake my head. My gaze is locked on her mouth. I clench my fist to stop from reaching out and stroking my thumb across her lips.

“Naturally,” She whispers, her breath heating the inches of space between us.

I know I should at least pretend to do the right thing. To beg her to walk back to her room and go to bed, but I’ve been walking a knife’s edge for months, my control eroding day by day.

There’s none left.

“Fuck it.” I push Violet against the stone wall and capture her mouth in mine. 

I kiss her like the starving man I’ve been, hungry and possessive for this one woman.  

But it’s not enough.

It’s not enough just to kiss her. I need more. I twine my hands through her hair, tilting her head back for better access. 

She opens for me and I press my tongue into her mouth. She grasps my shirt in her hands and pulls me in closer so I can feel every curve of her body as she kisses me greedily. 

Violet sucks on my bottom lip, dragging her teeth across the sensitive skin. 

“Violence,” I moan, blacking out at the feel of it. There’s no rational part of me left. Nothing to stop the desire that’s pulsing through me, my cock aching with each stroke of her tongue against mine. 

She presses into me harder, and I can almost feel the heat of her skin through her clothes.

“Closer.” Violet begs into my mind, a slip in her mental shields.

I obey, kissing her harder, driving deeper into her mouth. 

At this moment, there is no order she could give me that I wouldn’t obey.

Dangerous.

My hands rove over her body, feeling the way my fingers curve around her waist, move up to cup the nape of her neck and slide through the soft, silky strands of her hair.

Our movements are frantic as we touch and bite and tease.

I can’t get close enough, taste enough, feel enough. I cup Violet’s ass in my hands, my fingers brushing her inner thighs as I pick her up.

She wraps her legs around my waist, and I lean into her, her back pressed against the battlement wall. My tongue curls around hers, sucking it into my mouth and she kisses me deeply, her grip tightening with the movement.

The intensity of the kiss makes my hips rock forward, grinding against Violet in uninhibited pleasure. I release her mouth, needing more.

I slide my tongue across her jaw, trailing a path of kisses down her neck, feeling her thudding pulse against my lips.

Violet’s hands run through my hair, tugging lightly as I continue exploring her jaw, moving to scrape my teeth against her ear. 

She tugs at the strands, pulling my lips from her neck and up to meet hers. I moan into her mouth at the gentle pain.

I have become utterly lost; every part of my existence consolidated into this one frenetic kiss. 

I feel Violet’s body relax, sinking into my arms as her body yields to my touch.

There’s a flare of light behind my eyelids and a sharp, clear crack. My eyes fly open in time to see the reminisce of a lightning bolt streak across the sky.

What the fuck.

Reality yanks me back into my body and I suck in a breath, breaking the kiss.

She pulls back slightly to look at me, and I slam my eyes shut, putting up a wall between us before her eyes can draw me back in.

The rational part of my brain is catching up with me. I slide my hands to her thighs and peel her off of me, the cold blowing into me as her warmth vanishes, sobering me further.

She steadies herself, and I back up several steps, putting some much needed distance between the two of us.

I’ve taken advantage of her, spiraled so fast into a black hole of pathetic need.

This isn’t what she wants. This is the influence of Tairn and Sgaeyl.

And me. 

Our dragons may have helped unravel my control, but the desire is firmly my own. A desire that was pushed into Sgaeyl and Tairn flowing into Violet through our mutual bond.

I don’t want her to hate herself tomorrow when she remembers she had Xaden Riorson’s mouth on hers. The man who has done nothing but bring her fear and pain and threatened her life time and time again.

I wonder what kind of monster I’ll look like to her when the morning comes.

“You have to go,” I ground out. The words taste sour. 

Stay, I want to say. Kiss me again. Break me. Let me give you everything. 

“Why?” Her voice shakes with each ragged breath.

“Because I can’t.” I run my hands through my hair, leaving them on the top of my head. “And I refuse to act on a desire that isn’t yours. So you have to walk back up those steps. Now.”

Violet shakes her head. “But I want–”

“This isn’t your want.” I tilt my head up to the sky, willing the cool air to calm the bitterness in my heart at the words. “That’s the fucking problem. And I can’t leave you out here on your own, so have just a little mercy on me and go.”

She gives me a long look, and we stand in silence, neither of us moving.

She nods and turns on her heel, marching up the steps. It feels like something is pulling tighter and tighter between us as she goes, each inch of distance threatening to snap the delicate thread that’s woven between us.

The black of the night should south me, but I’m lost in a kind of darkness I can’t navigate, and when she disappears behind the citadel walls and that thing between us snaps, it feels like something inside of me cracks too.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

WIP Wednesday - Beach Trip -

RadioAppleStatic ~ Hazbin Hotel ~ Will be explicit

//Is it barely still wednesday, yet again. Yep. Do I care?...A little bit. But my day was sidetracked by this so now you must read it. Because I follow an amazing cosplayer XD //

The devil himself adjust his rose-tinted sunglasses, a smile on his lips as he caught the demon sneaking something plastic and bright orange into one of their beach bags. 

“What’s that you’re packing, Voxy?” Lucifer asked, his voice lifting with amusement. “Those better not be real guns. We said this little day trip was going to be a truce between you and Alastor.” 

The television demon’s human form—tall, with oil black hair and a bluish scar from eye to hairline—straightened up at once. “Of course not, Your Majesty!” A smarmy grin plastered across his square-jawed face. “Just some harmless water pistols, for our beach day.”

Lucifer chuckled, running a hand through his golden hair. 

The idea of being up on Earth again, out under the warm sun with his peachy, human-like skin had him grinning. Nothing could sour his mood today. His bright yellow shirt hung open, patterned with cheerful blue ducklings, fluttered open as he continued gathering and conjuring things for their little outing. 

“I’m just, thoughtful like that.” Vox grinned that ass-kissing grin, as if he could apple-polish his way into Lucifer’s good graces. 

Lucifer looked the demon over, taking in his very 50’s swimmwear with its teal stripes, before shrugging and looking away—and watching the demon squirm as he tried to figure out what that meant. 

“Is there anything else you need me to pack, Your Majesty?” Vox asked, practically oozing subservience.

Lucifer waved a hand dismissively. “No, no. I think we have all the essentials. Cooler, beach blanket, towels... and your little surprise, of course.” He winked, causing Vox to shift uncomfortably as he tried to play it off and seemed to freeze whether he should wink back. 

Lucifer turned to the rest of the room in the Vee Tower, his hands resting on his hips and his swim trunks. “Now all we need is the resident killjoy.”

The angel just thought it was hilarious to push the two demons together and watch them scrabbled at each other like a pair of wet, angry kittens. 

They’d see how long the little truce lasted when the waves started rolling in. 

Vox slipped on a pair of mismatched sunglasses —one lens blue, the other red—and glanced around the room. “Speaking of which, where’s our dear Radio Demon? Wouldn’t want him to miss out on all the fun.”

As if on cue, a crackle of static filled the air, and Alastor materialized from a clot of shadow. His ever-present smile seemed strained, ears twitching slightly as he took in the scene. They lowered, maybe for a second when he saw the angel, then went rigid again as they landed on Vox. 

“There you are Alastor!” Lucifer’s face lit up. 

“Couldn’t miss it if I tried, My King,” Alastor replied, his voice dripping with barely concealed sarcasm. 

Vox’s grin widened, a hint of excitement dancing behind his mismatched lenses. “Well, well,” The demon drawled, “looks like someone didn’t get the memo about proper attire.”

“He’s right, you know. You’ll need to change into something more... beachy.” Lucifer nodded, eyeing Alastor’s usual dapper ensemble. “And more…humany.”

“Unless you want to give the mortals a real fright.”  Vox added, unable to resist needling his rival. 

Alastor’s smile tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yes, of course you were not joking about your quaint little jaunt upstairs.”he said, his tone honeyed but sharp. “I am certain it will be an absolute delight to frolic in the sand with Hell’s finest.”

Vox snickered, leaning in close to Alastor. “What’s the matter, deer? Afraid to show a little skin?”

“I do hope you get sand in your screen, picture box.” Alastor’s eyes flashed dangerously, but his smile never wavered and he kept his voice low. Obviously trying not to burst the most powerful being in Hell’s bubble. 

With a dramatic sigh, Alastor snapped his fingers. Shadows swirled around him, obscuring his form from toes to antlers. 

Then they dissipated, a stunningly handsome human stood in his place. Warm brown skin, perfectly coiffed chestnut hair, and large, hazel eyes behind oval glasses—Alastor’s human form was breathtaking.

Vox’s jaw dropped, his cocky demeanor evaporating instantly. 

Alastor saw the angel snicker behind the television demon, who was openly ogling over the top of his glasses. 

Lucifer made a point of popping up from his beach supplies, his golden eyes sweeping over the Radio Demon’s outfit with a speculative “Hmm.” 

He knew what Alastor looked like as a human—he just wasn’t sure about the beach outfit. 

Lucifer glanced up from the beach supplies he was gathering, his eyes sweeping over Alastor’s chosen attire. The Radio Demon had opted for red shorts that hung past his knees, an open Hawaiian shirt with a swirling black and red pattern, and a tight black t-shirt underneath. Oval-shaped red-tinted sunglasses completed the look.

“Bambi, you are gonna burn up wearing all that to the beach.” Lucifer said, a touch of concern in his voice.

“I assure you, Your Majesty, I’m quite accustomed to burning in Hell. This will be positively refreshing by comparison.”

Lucifer shrugged, deciding it wasn’t worth pursuing. “Suit yourself,” he said, turning his attention to creating a shimmering portal into the human world. 

Vox, still trying to regain his composure, blinked as he said under his breath. “Did he…call you Bambi?”

Alastor lifted his head, his smile sharp-toothed and sinister—even in this form. 

“Try it, and I’ll rip your tongue out of your throat.” The Radio demon threatened in a purr, before putting on a much politer smile and going to help the angel with the collection of bags. 

Just before he stepped through the portal, Lucifer paused, putting a serious expression on his face. 

 “Remember, gentlemen, this is a private beach, but there may still be humans about. No powers, just in case. And absolutely no fighting. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Vox replied quickly,

Alastor nodded with a perfectly composed smile. “I will endeavor to keep things dreadfully drab.” 

With a final warning glance at his companions, Lucifer stepped through the portal. Beyond, a pristine white sandy beach stretched out before them, dotted with weathered driftwood and lapped by waves of the most brilliant teal-blue ocean.

Find it also on Ao3

[lemonflowercat]

75 soft but real soft hehe

it's been weeks since my last 75 soft, and since then i've had multiple menty-meltdowns, intense therapy hours and zombie-days where i've played game after game of 2048 (i'm a pro at it now, btw). i've had days that ended with the peaceful self-satisfaction of getting shit done, i've had days of going to bed with a sense of failure ringing deep in my bones. i've had days of eating so healthy, being fully aware of my hunger-fullness cues and honoring them, i've had days of munchie after munchie - rummaging through the snack cupboard at the end of every episode of a mindless Netflix TV show.

75 soft/hard have been touted as mental toughness challenges to imbue rigor and discipline and structure and perseverance - and the only measure of success? seeing every one of those 75 days through to the end. i understand that this may have changed many lives out there for the better, and i also understand the importance of the values the 75 soft/hard is based on.

but i also think that, just like all things in the world, there's more than one lesson an experience can teach me - and often it may not be what i hoped to get out of it. but it always will be something i needed.

my 5 failed attempts at 75 soft have taught me

the importance of kind self-talk. i think this is the most underrated, not-spoken-of-enough, never-done-enough, harder-than-you'd-except form of self love and self parenting. to talk to myself, not in the worst ways that people around me have spoken to me, but in the kind ways that they have. and in the nice ways that i would show up for people i care about. in a way that doesn't make me feel like a failure before i can even start expanding/growing. in a way that makes me feel loved and safe - because only when these feelings are met am i able to engage with the rest of the world from a place of curiosity, hope and love.

that unmet goals don't equate to failure. it isn't easy to stop listening to all those nagging voices in my head/unchecked boxes on my to-do list constantly reminding me of my inadequacies. but with practice, i can disengage from them emotionally, question their validity, and accept that either way i am enough. it's funny how hard it is for me to tell myself, lemonflowercat, even if you haven't worked out in a week or eaten healthy today or studied for even 30m or drank enough water, you are enough and worthy and loved and beautiful.

that i can draw boundaries. i can voice things i'm not ok with, what i need more of and less of to be able to do what's most important to me. that i don't have to reflexively please - i can be a square peg in a round hole with poky corners taking up space - and if that makes people like me less? it's completely ok, because i still know my worth.

to slow down and pay attention what feels good for me and do what my body/mind want in that moment vs what "i should" "i'm supposed" "i need to" "i have to" do.

to believe in myself more - just me, as myself, with no comparison to anyone else not even the past me. and i say the latter because too often have i caught me comparing myself to a certain way i was in the past when the kind of life and thoughts i had back then are so different from the way things are currently. i know people say that you only try to be better than yourself - but even this feels like an unfair ask, honestly.

that my fluidity - which i have tried so long, so hard to box into rigidity - is my strength.

to trust that everything is going to be ok. and, like i mentioned on another day here - i don't have to carry the burden of the past or the future as i live my now.

[nixie-writes-aot]

From Darkness We Flee

Chapter Five: Ice Queen Zakai

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical angst

Characters: Zakai Eriko, Connie Springer, Jean Kirschtein, Marco Bodt

Word Count: 1.3k

Zakai was simply going through the motions again. She was tired and this life was crumbling under her touch, she stared into her potato soup as life happened around her. How long had it been? A week? Just a week? Zakai sighed, her mind was always elsewhere these days, wasn't it? From her paranoia to this hopelessness, it was far from where it should be. Zakai couldn't help but think about Reiner, about Bertholdt, about Annie. Yet it was a shocking reveal to herself, one that burned and blazed within her own heart. You still need to atone. Zakai reminded herself, closing her eyes. What was she meant to do? With them? Tell Shadis? Who would believe her? Zakai tilted her head downwards, all the more conflicted. Zakai could make him believe her but at what cost to herself? Was that the best course of action? Zakai couldn't decide which would garner the best results. Let them rip this world apart limb from bloody limb and survive in whatever they leave behind? Tell the instructor and likely be ignored or dismissed? Zakai wouldn't really blame him either, not realizing the horror that is a reality ripped out of their very memories. Zakai could show Shadis that titan shifters do exist, show herself off as a sacrificial lamb. What will stop him from slaughtering me? Scratch that, torturing me for days on end while they get to escape with little consequence? 

Zakai stood abruptly, she knew eyes on her. It was a burning feeling. She looked beside her at Eren, the brunette was beyond bewildered. Those teal eyes wide, similarly Armin was just as surprised. Zakai wordlessly left as Eren opened his mouth to speak, leaving those at the table to come to their own conclusions. Anger blazed its way through her veins, fear gripped her heart with its icy tendrils. A clash of hot and cold, searing and freezing. Zakai slammed the door to the mess hall shut behind her, narrowing her eyes. Zakai would not let them dictate what path she would take. As she originally ascertained, she needed someone. Zakai could not be caught by either side, she knew that much. Zakai slowed her pace to a stop, staring up at the dawn above her. The way the chill in the air felt on her skin, causing goosebumps to rise along her arms. 

It was just a moment of peace, with no one around to see how she settled and let the sky draw her in. It felt like freedom. 

Zakai never wanted to stop feeling this clarity ever again, the way there was orange and pink along the sky as the sun rose with every passing minute. Zakai inhaled deeply before letting her stress melt away as she exhaled. Zakai let a small smile grace her face. However, it fell in an instant as she grew rigid, feeling someone wrap their arms around her torso from behind. Zakai scowled, annoyance flickering in her blue grey gaze. 

"If you value your life, let go before I end it, worm." Zakai growled, voice giving away her irritation. 

Zakai felt the person hugging her go stiff and tense at her words, another bursting out in laughter. Zakai was certain there was only one moron who would be convinced to sneak up on her. So, with a cold calm that could terrify far too many, Zakai grabbed one of the arms that had been slowly releasing her. 

"No, no, no, NO!" Came his panicked voice, "HEL-"

And in a split second, Zakai swung the person's entire body over her own. It wasn't unlike Annie's own move except it wasn't using the momentum and weight of someone else to execute the throw. Zakai stared down at the boy who had shrieked as he was thrown. A resounding thud resonated from the bald boy's body. Connie laid there, staring up at the sky in both shock and pain. As if on cue, the laughing got louder. 

"Kirschtein." Zakai growled, turning and letting her gaze focus on the taller culprit. 

Jean was doubled over, holding his stomach as he laughed. Zakai was hardly impressed but looked to the small chuckle of the other beside Jean, she sighed and chuckled just as small as the freckled cadet. Zakai pressed a hand against her cheek, watching as Jean recovers and stands up straight. 

"You torment me, Pretty Boy, you really do." Zakai sighs.

Jean felt his cheeks redden, "Thats not my name!" 

The freckled boy stepped forward, "It was nice seeing you so calm before… Connie and Jean." He stated with a friendly smile and an awkward chuckle, "I'm Marco."

Zakai recognized him immediately. The boy she was sure would die for the military, after all… Wasn't he just way too nice? Those people either get corrupted or die. Either way, his reputation thus far would help her so she needed him. 

"Zakai, it's a pleasure." She hummed.

Zakai ignored how Jean rolled his eyes, stepping towards Marco. "Ignore Pretty Boy, he's just jealous of you. I'm sure." Zakai added on with a tilt of her head, "Not everyone can be as… Nice as you are." 

"You are such a bitch." Jean grumbled, approaching Connie and helping him up.

"An Ice Queen!" Connie remarked, "... You didn't have to throw me so hard!" 

Jean smirked, "Yeah. Ice Queen Zakai, huh?"

Zakai glanced over her shoulder, lazily glaring at Connie and Jean, "Then don't be such a moron, I won't have to beat intelligence into you." 

Marco sighed, "... Man, what a first meeting. Jean and Connie meant well! It's just… You left so abruptly and looked so…" Marco trailed off, shifting under Zakai's gaze.

Zakai stared at Marco. She felt a twinge of guilt. Was she really going to use him? Corrupt him all herself? This scene felt almost familiar as she furrowed her brows, shrugging, "I'm fine. Don't you worry, Marco, was it?" 

The black haired cadet perked up, "Yeah. That's right." He muttered, cheeks a touch red. 

"Marco's got a-" Connie began to ask, looking to Jean. The latter slapping a hand over his mouth, "Shut it." He growled, "You really are a moron, Ice Queen over there was right." 

Zakai finally turned to face the two, Marco by her side. She perked a brow but otherwise didn't show her reaction to the scene at hand. She snickered hearing Connie let out a muffled, "Ouch." Jean looked to her. The two at a standstill. Zakai knew he was observant, that much had been picked up through how fast he was improving at the ODM gear. She also knew she was highly skilled at covering her bases. Yet did he know? 

"Hey, what was that whole thing between you and Reiner a week ago?" 

Zakai grew stiff, staring at Jean for a few moments before sighing. "Why? What has the brute been saying?" She questioned, eyes narrowed.

Braun… You bastard. Zakai was cross, to say the least. Jean shrugged with a scoff, "Yeah, thats the weird thing. For all he does say, he's not really telling anyone much. It's damn annoying. I just want to know what stupid drama you've got going on, Captain's Daughter."

Zakai tapped her foot impatiently, "Nothing of any real note." She lied flawlessly, "I just don't like him. He's annoying and weak." 

Connie stared, "Am I just stupid or does that make no sense?" He questioned.

Jean scoffed with a loud hah, "If thats not the freshest load of bullshit I've ever heard. Weak? That guy? He tackled me and I felt like I got hit by a horse. If you call that "weak", how strong are you? 'Cause I saw you go down the other day pretty easily. Against Ymir." 

The brunette pressed her lips together in thought, "He… Used to be different, let's just leave it at that." Zakai grumbled.

Zakai thought for a second, about Reiner. About everything, just for a moment. Zakai had to navigate whatever he was saying, decide whether or not to expose those as lies or play along as he had told her. Zakai could say confidently, she hated Reiner Braun. That much she would never hide. Not now nor ever would she make the mistake of keeping quiet regarding that man ever again. 

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