#and i'm like - i'm not even going to pretend i'm capable of reading all of that. comprehending it. and then replying without

[m3mento-m0rii]

Chemistry in Choreo—A.2

2.5k words; Abby Saja x Huntrix! Reader Part 2 of 2 Others in the series | A: 1. 2. B: 1.

In which you didn't mean to keep finding yourself in this situation with your enemy—dancing with a demon, but . . . you can't help but come back.

A/N: I'm baaaaack. I'm actually kind of proud of this? I wasn't sure how writing in another point of view was going to go, but I think it worked out just fine! Happy reading; also, requests are open.

The world had changed plenty since Abby had last traversed it.

In a way, it was . . . comforting. In another, it wasn’t.

Seoul dwarfed what he used to think defined a city. Streets were more like mazes, traditional food didn’t taste the same, but . . . it was interesting; the clothing was something to get used to, and honestly he embraced it. And still . . .

No matter how much he seemed to learn, how well he played his part, how much he pretended, he didn’t fit.

Because he couldn’t just erase the fact he was a demon.

Nail polish and files didn’t hide the nature of his claws. Makeup and glamour and harsh stage lighting couldn’t cancel out the agitating pulse just under his skin. If he lost focus, he could feel the sharpness of his teeth. Everywhere was a bit too bright. He could deal with that. For sunlight again, he could deal with that.

Most of all, though, he could still hear him. Not loud, never loud. Grating whispers inside his head, so soft that they scratched at his skull in the worst of ways. His own voice, and still one he didn’t always recognize, quiet utterances that served as a cold reminder of what he was and who he served. 

If there was one thing he couldn’t live with, it was that. So Abby found the power in himself to blot the voices out in music. Can’t listen to the deprecations of an ancient demon king when you can barely comprehend anything past the song, right? It didn’t block him out, but it was harder to differentiate the words.

Naturally, listening to music developed into doing things while listening. Things he always did. Working out. Dancing. Places alone where he didn’t have to worry about what he was capable of.

Movement was his anchor: in the most literal sense, movement of time, movement of air, it was all true; if he could find peace, it was when he didn’t have to think about it. That’s where Abby drew his strength. It had always been that way, even when he was alive. And no one really saw that, obviously.

Except you.

Always watching, always seeing. At first, he thought it was just because he was attractive; that you couldn’t help but flicker down to his abdomen, his biceps, like the others. But there was something different in your stare. Your gaze didn’t wander, and if it did, it was not looking at the result of his movement, but the meaning behind it.

He kind of hated it at first. You knew nothing. And still, you attempted to pick him apart. To find something. How did you know there was something? No matter how many cocky coats he put over himself, no matter how he hid his feelings in teases or how much he flaunted his physique, you were more interested in the way he moved. 

It came to be something he expected, something he knew he’d find when he was faced with the demon hunters. Your attention always on him.

What he didn’t expect was for you to offer to dance with him.

In fact, he was kind of baffled at first. Confused. Befuddled. You walked from the left wing out of view from the crowd, teased him for staring at you for a change. And he followed you, to mess with you, just like he always did. When you drew him further into the backstage darkness, scanned for eavesdroppers and said, ‘dance with me,’ he looked at you like you were dumb.

Seriously, were you??

And you only smiled at his speechlessness. ‘I bet I’m better than you,’ you had baited (with some audacity), ‘come to that studio off that square you debuted in, and I’ll show you how.’

He did.

Funny enough, the whole night he spent dancing with you hardly registered as a competition. Empty promises, easily.

For once, he didn’t have to try and drown Gwi-Ma out. Because somehow, just the quiet with you seemed to silence him.

So he came back the next day, and the day after that. Until a few days became a week, and one week turned into two. Until he stopped keeping track of them, until he forgot about the hours he came to see you.

That was how he found himself waiting outside the studio again, fifteen minutes until seven, watching as the night slowly crept over the rooftops.

Then, the silhouette of you, ten minutes until seven, approaching the corner. You smiled at him, and he could tell it didn’t reach your eyes; there was something hesitant in the way your lips twinged, and it made his stomach twist.

Abby didn’t know when he began to care about you, but he did, and he didn’t care for that look on your face at all. Like you were trying to tough something out when he was right there. He could be right there.

“You’re early,” he quipped, testing the waters. Abby waited for you to reach for your keys, but you didn’t this time. Instead, you shrugged, ignoring the fact that he was here before you.

“To be early is to be on time, and to be on time is to be late.”

“Didn’t take you for a philosopher,” he nudged you gently. Your hand instinctively came up to swat his shoulder.

“We’re not dancing today.” 

He only raised a brow. You nodded in the direction he came, your hands pushed into your pocket. “Walk with me.”

So he did, silence settling between the two of you. You weren’t leading him anywhere. Just wandering along, and he kept pace with you. He could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you stared straight ahead but didn’t see anything. Like you were looking at the clock.

“You’ve been thinking a lot lately,” Abby allowed the words to linger in the air for a moment as they crossed the street. He looked both ways for both of you, because you weren’t paying attention. “What’s wrong?”

Your lips twitched, and you did that thing where you pursed your lips again. Like you couldn’t physically pick from the different ways you could answer, even if the lack of one was an answer in itself. Finally, you fessed up.

“Why do you keep coming back?”

Another thing Abby didn’t expect.

“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts about our meetings now,” he averted his gaze, absently guiding you further into the sidewalk when a car passed them by. You let him.

Mira’s words . . . they lingered in your every thought, every action. She was right. They shouldn’t be meeting up. Despite knowing that, you came back. “. . . Abby, would you hit me if it came down to it?”

“What?”

You winced, and you didn’t have to look at him to know the way his expression shifted. Abby stopped walking, gently grabbing your shoulder to stop you, too. “I mean, when we inevitably have to fight again. Would you at least hesitate?”

Abby was at a loss for words. Something in his chest stirred, and he didn’t know what to say. Why did that kind of hurt? That after everything, the unmentioned truce between them . . .

Well. You were right to question, and he knew his response. He wouldn’t have felt that way if he didn’t. In turn, he asked: “Would you kill me?”

Crickets. The gentle rustle of wind coursing through the trees. Breathing. Neither of you needed to speak to know the answer. A smaller hand reached into the space between them, and Abby followed it up to meet your hesitant, almost wobbly smile. 

Without a word, he took it.

And you kept walking.

»                                                      ⊱◈⊰

Neither of you really knew where you were going, but the sun was done setting. Somehow, they had increased in elevation, finding themselves on the outskirts of the city. More trees, the sounds of night settling into nature. Not once did you let go of Abby’s hand, and he never loosened his grip either.

Eventually, you came to a stop. A city overlook on an old, winding path. Calm, almost silent. Peaceful, except . . . if breathed deeply and stared out into the rooftops, you could still see where the barrier between earth and hell began to break.

Abby watched the skyline with wonder. You could only feel the burden of what lay underneath it. “Have you ever seen the Honmoon, Abby?”

“Only in glimpses,” he admitted, glancing at you only to doubletake. His attention was captured by the way the lights glittered in your eyesight, and the shadows the rest of the night projected onto your features. “We can feel it when we pass through it . . . when it’s being changed, but that’s about it.”

“The contours turn redder by the day.”

He already knew that. Of course he did. Abby didn’t say that.

You swallowed thickly, your shoulders sinking at the fact. It wasn’t even something you were completely certain of. “You know that . . . no matter what this is, I still have a job to do.”

It was something you didn’t want to say and something he didn’t want to hear. Though, that didn’t make it less true. You couldn’t . . . you couldn’t just forget that your friends, your position is what stood between life and damnation.

Abby exhaled. “You think I want to do mine?”

Hearing his distaste for his role wasn’t surprising. You’d come to slowly realize that Abby could be, was, is more than the persona he displayed. A shell of a person still qualified as a person, if only barely. “I know you don’t.”

“I don’t think anyone really wants to,” he reluctantly muttered, his larger hand squeezing yours carefully. “We’re vaguely sympathetic at best, but there are some sadistic demons out there. It’s for Gwi-Ma.”

That didn’t change your natural roles, though. Didn’t change the upcoming fight. 

Abby tugged on your hand, pulling your focus back to him. His gaze was unusually true, his throat bobbing as he revealed something new. Whispered like a secret, something he was scared that someone else could hear. Like it was something that could be taken away. “I don’t hear him when you’re around.”

You blinked, surprise dancing across your face. That might’ve been the most honest thing you’d heard him say to you. “. . . Really?”

Abby shook his head, his hip brushing the wall when he turned to lean against it. The motion inadvertently pulled you closer. “He talks, that’s how he gets you. It’s silent for once.”

It was a bit hard to wrap your head around the idea. Not that demons could hear him, but that just you was enough to silence him. 

“Is that why you keep coming back?”

His head rocked from side to side. So-so. “Why did you offer?”

You searched for an answer, you really did. You tried to give him the most reasonable one you had. “If you were so soulless, you wouldn’t move the way you do. It’s all conscious decision and self-limitations. If you’re conscious enough for that, then you are enough for a conversation.”

“And? Were you right?”

“Yes,” it wasn’t even a question. “Abby, I want to know you. I’m not going to lie, it was stupid of me to start befriending a demon, but I don’t regret it. I don’t regret this. Maybe I always wanted something to prove me wrong, and slowly you are, but . . .”

You didn’t want to give him up.

Abby’s dumb smile slowly formed, and you just knew he was about to say something just as stupid. You felt your free hand tense up, ready for it.

“Is that what we are? All that just for befriending a demon—?” Bop. “Okay.”

“I’m trying to be serious,” you huffed, the base of your hand moving to tap Abby’s head again. He easily caught it, and pulled you into his body softly. 

It wasn’t a foreign feeling, being so close to Abby. You came to get used to it, when you spent most of your nights dancing in his vicinity. It stopped making you jump, but that didn’t translate to not making your breath hitch. “I am serious. What are we going to do?”

Abby rested his head over yours, swaying slowly to nothing. You heard him inhale deeply. “Why do we have to have a plan? It won’t follow it, anyway.”

“Let’s make a promise, then.”

“A promise,” Abby mused, though his smile broadened. “What for?”

“A promise that no matter what happens, we’ll try to stay together.”

Abby seemed to soften at the notion, gathering you up against his chest just a little more. Not an empty promise. There was something in the way this one settled over them that reassured him that it could never be. “Promise.”

It was then you decided Abby had to have a soul, a heart, otherwise he wouldn’t be so warm. Wouldn’t touch you so carefully. 

You closed your eyes, the silence falling into something comfortable again while you savored the feel of his collar against your cheek. Then, it was just your breathing, the occasional rustle of the leaves. A trick of the light in the corner of your vision that you couldn’t be bothered with, movement. The faint cooing of a nightbird. Maybe the sound of your soles grazing the stoned walkway while you rocked.

Peace.

Maybe it wasn’t a matter of forgetting who you were for a little while. Maybe it was being despite that. 

Your arms raised to wrap around his torso. He held you like you were made of porcelain and already cracking. “Hold me tighter.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

With a little sigh, Abby gradually drew you closer, his arms tightening around your waist. You swayed until it was more slow dance than simple contact, until he couldn’t take the stillness and gingerly guided you around in little circles.

“Dancing?” The tease slipped quietly into the air between you, your eyes flickering up to his dark ones. They were already on you, creased in the corners, a slightly new hue to his cheeks only the moonlight betrayed. He shrugged, humming quietly. You could feel the tune deep in his chest and you smiled.

“We always dance.”

What left your lips was hardly a snicker—to laugh even quietly felt like to break the moment—and you leaned in. It wasn’t one of their nights without a dance with Abby, you supposed.

So you let him croon for you, let him hold you close and tight and intimate, because if there was one thing you learned about Abby, it was that he didn’t always need to talk to say something.

If there was one thing he learned about you, it was you had some natural way of making him feel normal again. Human again.

Maybe he could be human again.

Aligning, at least. For you. He would manage it, for you. 

Abby didn’t always have the right words to tell you it would be okay, but his actions transcended any dialect.

There was something nice about the fact that he didn’t have to tell you; you could feel it. You knew as he twirled you out for a moment, as the tip of your toes brushed the pathway in a graceful arch, that he had you and he wouldn’t let go.

That was enough.

»                                                      ⊱◈⊰

A/N: Heyo! That's this is the technical 'end' of Chemistry in Choreo, but I'll still be adding a few drabbles / ideas I have for it as I go. If you liked this little two-shot, maybe you should check it out. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and I hope to see you again in my next post! Byeee <3

—Captain Morii 🌤️

[sacr1ficialang3l]

older!dean headcanons˚୨୧⋆｡

OLDER!DEAN WINCHESTER X YOUNGER!READER (read here)

WARNINGS: mentions of/implied smut (MDNI). age gap.

NOTES: He is back! My psych final is tomorrow and i am going insane, so this is shorter than usual. You have all been so sweet and supportive, and I just wanted to give you a little something as a thank you while I study. I love you all, thanks for the kind words. As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3

˚୨୧⋆｡ After months of resisting you and denying his feelings, he is the sweetest man ever when you two get together. He adores you, and he makes sure to show you. He spoils you rotten, lets you get away with almost anything, and he always needs to have a hand on you.

˚୨୧⋆｡ He is protective!!! Like, very protective. He always keeps an eye on you during hunts, and makes sure to kill any evil motherfucker before they can even think of putting their hands on you. And when you do get hurt, you think it pains him more than it does you. He patches you up with gentle touches he didn’t think his blood-stained hands were capable of. He looks at you with sad, deep eyes as he kisses over the wound, and then he doesn’t even let you get up from bed, even if the injury is as tiny as a paper cut. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ After every case, he loves, or more like needs to cradle you against his chest and hold you close. He wraps his huge arms around you and presses you to his side, or on top of him, and he just buries his face on your hair and breathes in. He tells you it is to calm you down after hunts, to make you feel safe. But you think it is more about him. Like he needs to remind himself that you’re okay. That you’re there next to him, and that you’re not going anywhere. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ You love to annoy him, it is your favorite hobby. Play with his hair while he and Sam research in the library, brushing it right in front of his eyes while he tries to read. You love to sit in a barstool in the garage while he works on Baby and talk his ear off when he has no way to escape (not that he would). You force him to watch rom-coms and chick-flicks that he pretends to hate, but you catch him smiling to himself a few times. You poke him, and bite him, and jump on him all the time, and he wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

˚୨୧⋆｡ You have a habit of sinking your teeth into his biceps any chance you get. There are always teeth marks on his flesh that he wears with pride. (There are always hickies on your thighs and collarbones to match, of course.)

˚୨୧⋆｡ He claims not to be the jealous type. “I'm too old for things like that, sweetheart.” But you knew he was. He didn’t mind when people stared at you when you walked into a bar or around a small town, always that his arm was around your shoulders or your hand was on his. He is proud that such a pretty girl chose him. But the moment some frat boy tries to approach you at a bar when you are alone, he feels his blood boil. He watches from far away for a few seconds, trying to keep his cool, but he loses it when the guy decides to brush your hair behind your ear. He quickly walks across the bar until he is right behind you, pulling you against his chest and glaring at the dude over the top of your head. The boy is gone in less than a second.

˚୨୧⋆｡ You try to show your love for him in every way you can. Dean was confident and strong, but it sometimes felt like he doubted your feelings for him, like his brain was trying to convince him that you deserved better and that you would get tired of being with some old guy eventually. So, you shower him in love. You learn how to bake pies just for him, making him a new one every week. You wash his hair in the shower, massaging his scalp to help him relax. You get him naked in bed and go on a journey of kissing every scar you can find. You press your lips over the small ones, run your tongue over the long and raised ones. And of course you make sure to tell him how much you love him. You murmur soft i love you’s against his lips. You remind him every day of how beautiful he is, how good he is. You whisper in his ear about how hot he is, how he makes you lose your mind and how no one could ever compare to him.

˚୨୧⋆｡ Dean liked being rough with you in bed. He loved manhandling you, leaving purple fingertips marks on your hips, pulling your hair. He was careful at first, too scared to hurt you. But you wanted him to, you begged him to make it hurt. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ Because you loved it when it hurt a little. When he sank his teeth into the flesh of your thighs, when your knees ended up bruised from kneeling on the floor for too long, when you could still feel him days after. You love the marks that he leaves, a living reminder of his touch on your body. It made you feel complete, it made you feel his.

˚୨୧⋆｡ Dean tried to go slow with you at first, thinking that you might be too inexperienced for everything he wanted to do to you. But he didn’t know that you were just as much or even freakier than him. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ Your favorite thing to do was, when Dean and you were alone in the Impala for a long drive, to rest your head in his lap. You lay across the front seat casually, looking up at him with innocent eyes when he sends you a warning look. You start by “accidentally” rubbing your cheek against his crotch, loving the way the scratchy fabric of his jeans felt against your skin. You would tease him until he was hard and his breath was ragged, and then you would take him in your mouth. You order him to keep driving as you suck him off slowly. You drag it out, edge him until he is desperate and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. And when he finally comes, you swallow it all like a good girl, moaning in satisfaction, enjoying the way his cum coats your tongue. It makes him groan every time, nostrils flared with the need to fuck you. Sometimes you keep going, keep suckling on him until he is whining in oversensitivity and has to pull you away by your hair.

˚୨୧⋆｡ In return, Dean gives you pleasure every time he can. He can eat your pussy for hours on end, in the kitchen counter, or the Impala, or in a lonely classroom when you have to infiltrate a school for a case. He will fuck you on his bed, or the floor, or against the wall. He just loves to make his girl feel good, see you shaking with pleasure, begging him to stop and to keep going at the same time. He loves when you tell him that he’s the best you have ever had, and the best you will have. He loves when you scream his name and your thighs close around his head because of the overwhelming sensations. He loves to make you cry with pleasure. 

˚୨୧⋆｡ But after, he is the sweetest guy ever. He takes aftercare very seriously, murmuring reassuring words against your skin and softly kissing every bruise and bite mark. He reminds you of how much he loves you, of how much you matter to him. 

“I don’t know what I would do without you, baby. You keep me sane.”

“You’re such a good girl, my beautiful princess.”

“I will take care of you forever. Nothing will ever hurt you while I'm here.”

“I love you.”

NOTES: wish me luck on my final! I will be back after I'm finally free.

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

[acid-ixx]

pick me, choose me, mark me! (masochistic bottom yandere! batfam x feral top alpha reader).

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

�� og post ! ; ao3 link !

a/n: sorry for the spam guys, but tumblr won't filter out the most debauched thing yet they hide my content instead and it makes me sad like i don't want all my hard work to be just buried yk? :( anyways, fic under the read more for those who hasn't seen it yet. sorry again for the repost, i'm just really hurt over the censoring, i won't stand for it, it admittedly made me down in the dumps.

look, i'm just saying that in an omegaverse scenario, where you're the alpha and you go to the same uni as tim drake, a well known and respected omega, where you're a good friend of his: not too close in your eyes, study buddies, maybe, but you're not attracted to him, but it's still in your natural instincts to drive away other alphas despite the omega being capable enough of defending himself. because you're noble, always protecting him by shielding him away from those other vile alphas trying to force themselves on him— and he likes that feeling of protection from you, wants something more out of it.

and he knows that beneath those dull eyes of yours, beneath your willingness to hold back at the scent of omegas in heat, his family is well aware of your darker fantasies. he sees the way you pin down other alphas, how your knees would press up so close to their crotches as you release a growl from your throat, how your muscles would flex and how your teeth would bite on your lower lips to control your raging desire to pin down an omega in heat.

it's an unspoken rule that you've the qualities to rule a pack, strong enough to subdue every other alphas with your unbridled rage and sharp teeth, feral enough to dick down any willing omegas who wants to be well-bred with your knot (he's a willing omega, he wants to be filled by you, wants to know what it's like to be smothered with the scent of your sweat, saliva, and any emissions released from your body).

so i propose the idea that tim would do everything in his waking days, with the guidance of his family, to make any necessary sacrifices in his schedule just so that he could time your monthly ruts and have you be attracted to his pheromones. he'll secretly shove his family's belongings inside your locker just to get you used to their scent, dick, jason and damian take turns to sneak into your home to steal your dirty laundry, your used jackets and pants, buried deep beneath your cabinets, just so that they could smother their nose into it, try to lick at any remaining sweat that clung to the fabrics.

you best believe that they're possessive over your things. even a beta like dick couldn't help but claim your jackets just to wear it for himself. damian, who's all talk about placing himself high above a pedestal as an alpha, seems way too eager to spend a minute or five scenting himself up with your blankets and arguing with jason over the comms on who you get to mark first— as if tim would let them be marked by his alpha.

tim is the luckiest to hit the jackpot though. he could just borrow your clothes after pe classes with the excuse that he forgot to bring a spare, then pretend to clumsily forget to return it to you because he's all too busy shoving it deep in his throat. every time you strip yourself half naked in the shower rooms, he's already had his head peeking by the doors with a camera in hand and a boner down under. every little action of yours done in campus is accompanied by the click of a camera and an all too excitable omega who touches himself to the thought of what your jagged hands could do to his body.

(and god, tim, who loves to hump into your stolen underwear can only provide himself so much pleasure, his heat wants him all marked up by you but you're just so oblivious to his ministrations. to his obvious need to share a nest with you. the family wants you too, jason's been snappy lately and dick is so close to convincing bruce that they all just collectively kidnap you if you weren't so dedicated in your academics).

the only thing holding them back is that you're known to be not like the other alphas. you don't shove your scent into most unwilling nostrils, your momma raised you right, you drink suppressants to keep you on the low, you do just enough to respect the boundaries of every omega who passed by your way, and you're a smart fella, easily picking up on most omegas who only try to befriend you for the intentions of dating you or having a quick fuck (damian makes a mental note to eliminate every known competition, he despises how those lowly beings slot themselves right beside you and think they deserve to be marked up. the others and most especially tim shares that sentiment)— the only reason tim is the sole exception to your friend group filled with betas is because he has enough self respect, at least, that's what he's convinced you to believe.

you're not aware of the trackers littered in every corner of your belongings. you're not aware of the cameras hidden in your apartment as the family entertains themselves just watching you break another toy of yours because you're too big for just a measley fleshlight, they watch you rip another blanket with your pointed teeth that snaggles into the sheets, fantasizing what it's like to have someone crying and begging for you to stop thrusting your knot right beneath you. bruce has to control the pack from breaking into your apartment just for them to offer that you claim them instead, he makes them cycle between steak outs, focus on something else, because he can immediately sense their heads turning to the direction of where your house is— and yet even an omega like him can't deny how tempting it is to share a nest with you as he secretly saves all the files of you pleasuring yourself in a drive he's going to watch repeatedly once patrol hours are over.

thinking about how the months would stretch and you slowly notice the shift in demeanor with tim. suddenly, instead of reviewing in cafes with other friends or simply visiting the library together, he'll invite you all too eagerly to the manor, in due excuse of wanting to study with you alone since he says he prefers a quieter environment. you accept, only because you feel the risk of losing yourself amidst the familiar scents scattered all over your life, on the newer scents on your clothes making your mind go crazy; only because you can't deny how tempting it is to fuck your supposed friend on top of a creaking table, in public for all the eyes to see— so your excuse to study with him alone, in an entirely alien environment where his family are there to monitor your sessions meant you'd have to be on your best behavior.

except the moment you step inside the gothic manor, your nostrils are hit with a multitude of familiar scents. bruce wayne, the omega philanthropist known to love caring for children, who greets you at the door with a gentle smile and expectant eyes, smells of fresh vanilla, cashmere and faint lavender, as he steps to the side and all-too eagerly confesses you that he's been waiting for the moment that tim's closest friend visits his home. like most omegas do, you can only describe the man's scent as soft and nurturing, natural traits for an omega, obviously, as he almost ushers you — a hand resting comfortably on your back, you don't feel his palms rubbing up and down your spine like he's known the feel of it from the start — and your... friend to the library if not for tim insisting that you'll both be heading off to his room instead.

you don't question why he specifically wanted you alone, though, because you swore you smelled the same, imposing vanilla on your damn sweaters.

but when you look to your right, eyebrows raised in curiosity at the whistling omega, he only reciprocates with a shrug and tells you that you should both already head upstairs since there's not much daylight left and that he wants to consume as much knowledge as he can in one sitting.

such a cunning scum he is.

for when you entered the room, stepped inside and dropped your bag to a nearby corner, your nose immediately picked up on the smell of freshly baked cocoa, sweet caramel, and the same, damn fruity scent of zesti cola.

your vision fogs all too quickly, fury an all too intimate feeling rising to your chest.

"tim, you fuckin' vixen—!"

you pin him down on his well nested bed the moment the waft of his room's familiar scent hit the air. you growl, too dizzy on the hazy realization that it was him and his family who's been scenting themselves all over your things all along, you can even smell your own scent in this room. your clothes, your jewelry, even your damn notebooks, they reek of sandalwood, lavenders, musk, vanilla— scent which all don't mix well, all you've individually sensed in all your different items. your underwear is stained with tim's sweat, you realize as you snarl between the vast, unmarked space of tim's neck.

and you should've, you could've held yourself back, but the timing was perfect, you've forgotten to take your suppressants because tim was rushing you; yet his legs are wrapped around you, you feel your own sizable crotch rubbed in between his own hard ones. he's tempting you, inviting you to stake your claim on his clean skin, as he releases a shaky breath right on your ears. his lithe waist is a perfect slot right in your palms, and those stupid, wide eyes are too expectant, too inviting to even deny the lack of surprise, like he's predicted this reaction— like he knows that underneath that false, caring exterior of yours is an alpha that wants to claim, and claim and claim until his skin knows the imprint of your teeth against his.

"mmph, c'mon..." he calls out your name, rubs himself shamelessly against your soiled underwear, takes your cold, unforgiving fingers to cop a feel around his areolas. lidded, deep blue eyes and raw, bitten lips, a red flush overtakes his body; an picture perfect canvas of an entirely submissive omega is right beneath you, inviting you two to fuck like the shameless animals you both are.

proclaiming to you, without words, without thought, that he's yours the entire night.

yours to breed, yours to fuck deep into the mattress until he memorizes the shape of your knot by the end of it all.

you don't remember when or how it happened, how you're both wearing almost nothing but the underwear blocking tim from fully seeing your own rock hard boner, but he's too hungry on want, on the need to have it shoved far deep in his throat and you're too drunk on the hazy desires to have an actual, warm cavern wrapped around you right now.

he whines a bit louder, you can smell the pre oozing and dribbling on his own briefs. he smells so pure, so delicious, so ready to be claimed that you just...

you lick at his clavicle until your tongue reaches into the perfect spot on his neck, devoid of any alpha's mark. you feel the boy shiver under you, feel the way his arms snake around your neck as his feet push back at your underwear until it drops at right your ankles, where you can hear his breath hitch at the sight of your own dick rubbing against his clothed boner.

he moans, pulling his hips up, and you snarl at his impatience, pull his body up in one, quick swipe, like the strong alpha you are, and rip away at his own underwear.

and he's drooling at your display of strength, his smaller thighs wrap around your waist until his puckered hole slots itself perfectly on your tip, you feel the slick dribbling down, feel the natural slip of your dick sliding inside of him.

he's all lubed up, this fucker prepared himself for this. but there's no condom in sight, no damn contraceptive the longer you look around. the truth lies in plain sight: he wants to be bred, he wants to take you raw.

as if sensing your thoughts, as if he doesn't want your attention on anything but him, he voices himself out, calling your name.

"don't lie to me... i know you want this," his palms cup your cheeks, gently prying your head to look at his straight at the eyes, "i know you want me. you picked me, you chose me, didn't you...?"

he pushes his hips upwards, pushes deeper, memorizing every vein stretching his hole— except his attempts are futile the moment he feels you pin his body down, he nearly releases an aching cry when he senses the lack of dick inside him.

he almost begs, almost.

"puh-PLEASE—!" he almost begs, if not for your immediate, hard thrust, a loud plap echoes throughout the empty room. if not for you shoving your dick in his slicked up hole in one quick motion, maybe he could've mustered up another word. but you've dicked him down, rendered him thoughtless and wordless, dumbing the omega down until he's subdued with only breathless moans.

"fu-fuck! oouh—" whispering under his breath, you only snarl in response, feeling him squeeze you in. this is better than any toy you've destroyed, he was warm and aching and you were hungry to just take him all.

tim drake is the picture perfect omega. it was no wonder why so many alphas fight themselves to the death to even grab a sniff of his own sweat, you've told yourself you only let yourself become friends with him because it was your duty to protect the weak, but fuck. you knew deep down, you were as dirty as all the others, maybe even worse, maybe even the worst as the sight of the debauched, snotty, drooling mess underneath you made you way harder, made your diluted eyes take in his writhing body, made you thrust in just a bit harder just to hear that high pitched moan escape from his wrecked throat.

his mouth would feel so good wrapped around your dick, it'll feel so nice to just slide it deeper and deeper until it reaches the back of his throat, and oh, you'll make him hold his breath until he has to scratch at your thighs, until salty tears escape those stupid, wide eyes of his, just to beg you for even the smallest intake of air.

next time, you think. there will be a next time.

for now, your steady pace is enough to induce pleasured tears dribbling down his cheeks. you snap harder, he squeals. he's cute, cute but disgusting. but you're worse, you wish you weren't but it's natural. you try to be soft, though, as your dominant hand swipe away the hair clinging on his sweaty forehead. you lean in, ignoring how tim shivers in delight as his nose gets a closer whiff of your scent, and softly kiss his cheeks.

softly, but that doesn't stop his disappointed, little sigh. you could only stare back in disbelief as his thighs pull your hips closer.

more tears escape his shaky eyes, hiccups escape his quivering lips.

"show me how much you love me..." he whispers, taking your mouth in his, biting your lower lips just so his tongue could get a taste of your saliva mixing with his. in response, you collect you spit and let it dribble down to his awaiting mouth, and god, he moans when the liquid meets his tongue, swallowing your spit with due diligence, like it is his ambrosia. and he sobs at the overestimation of having to feel, taste, and breath every living part of you.

"i love you, i love you, i— ah! i love you—!"yet it doesn't stop you from thrusting, doesn't stop you from wanting more as you stop kissing him, making your way towards his neck, tongue licking and sucking his skin until it's sullen with ugly love marks. he only responds with thoughtless whines, dissatisfied pleas at your teasing, at your refusal to just bite his skin and to just— mark him already.

you feel the rise of a familiar knot on the base of your dick, and with just how louder and louder tim has been moaning — you're sure that his pleas and the heavy creak of the bed can be heard from outside his door, you hope it does, you hope his family hears just how much this freak loves being bred — you know he's close, his dick is practically oozing with salty, watery precome, and his little whole is weeping with slick. your ears can pick up the plaps, how well your cock slides in and out of him to an unstable rhythm.

and yet he's crying, he's crying because throughout it all, your mark still isn't on him. his alpha still hasn't staked their claim on him and he feels so ashamed, so desperate to relieve that empty ache on the skin of his neck that begs to be pierced by your sharp teeth.

"— muh- mark- ah!"

"puh- LEASE! please, please, please, alpha, please—!

and he begs the moment he felt a thread snap, when you palm his throat, squeeze his dainty neck until all he could do was wheeze, until you let go when you see his reddened lips turn purple, and he releases a shout as ropes of cum escape his violently flushed dick.

he begs with incomprehensible requests, sucks in a breath whilst you accompany his moans with a growl when he feels your knot was slowly but surely becoming bigger and bigger inside him as your thrusts slowed, as you try your best to move despite the overstimulation riddling his body.

slowly, until your bodies are locked together, tim unable to move from right beneath you as his hole adjusts to the considerably large knot, until he swore you two are one, until your eyes shut in bliss when you felt your warm cum staining his insides. through both your hazy zenith, through his breathless panting and desperate intakes of air, tim still isn't satisfied.

and he'll only be satisfied if, no, once he's utterly sure he's yours and you're his.

he musters up the last of his strength, shifts his little hips seductively just so he could feel that strong knot pinning him to you, and stares at you with dazzling eyes, shimmering with fresh reserves of tears.

and just like how he's manipulated you to fuck him the moment you've stepped inside the room, he makes sure his quivering voice was as sultry as the taste of his sweat, as inviting as the nest he's been preparing for months.

he pouts, bites his lips, and licks at your warm ears as he whispers four, shaky words:

"mark me, my alpha."

[writersdrug]

I need the bartender Simon having to escape upstairs for a few minutes just to control the monster in his pants just because of a more direct provocation from the reader

I was saving this ask and I think this is the perfect moment after Simon sees reader in his shirt, no?

Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, sex toy, pining, daydreaming about p in v sex

He doesn't dare go up to his room - even after the bar is closed, after you and Johnny are both gone, after his tasks are complete. His mind has been scrambled ever since you came down in his shirt, looking like you'd just woken up from having a nap in his bed. He knew that wasn't the case, but it was so easy to pretend. You made it easy, looking like wearing his shirt was just your typical Friday outfit. If he tried hard enough, sitting at the bar after hours, sipping on an Old Fashioned- he could imagine you were up there right now, lying stomach-first in his bed, wearing his shirt, with "LT RIELY" on your back - you weren't objective, he certainly doesn't think of you like that - but having his claim on you aroused the most primal part inside him. If only you could see what you've done. Did you even know it?

Price comes lumbering down the stairs. Simon doesn't bother to look at him; he sits at the bar, his Old Fashioned long gone, with an empty whiskey glass and the mostly-full bottle next to him. He was hoping to replace the thought of you with drinking, but he didn't have the stomach for it.

"I'm plannin' to see if Garrick wants to join the team." Price says, shrugging on his jacket. "I know he wanted to be his own man, but we could use him. Our girl's made this place quite popular."

Simon wants to spit out the words he'd just heard. Our girl. Whose girl? John's? Soap's? The entire pub? It was his name on your back. Not Price. Not MacTavish. He was the one you came to with all those receipts, numbers scribbled in the margins, trusting him to help you ward them off. Sure, you have fun with everyone, asking them all for help - but you go to him the most easily, whenever you need to feel safe. Bad customers, bad situations - you looked to him. Didn't that mean anything to Price?

He doesn't respond to his captain, choosing to stare at his empty glass instead. Price looks at him quizzically.

"Feelin' alright, there?"

Simon grunts. "Long day."

Price knows he's bullshitting him. He knows exactly what this is about. He sighs, pulling his beanie on and tucking the money pouch into his jacket. "If you want 'er, Simon, tell me to back off. Can't read your mind."

That has him pursing his lips, grip tight around the sides of his glass. He would have punched John, was he any other man. He knows exactly what Simon's thinking, yet he makes him work for it. Typical. His pride and his jealousy are fighting tooth and nail against each other, but he can barely say a word.

Price stands there a moment, waiting for Simon to speak - but he doesn't even spare the owner a glance. Bastard's always punishing himself... he thinks, sighing again.

"Bright and early tomorrow, lad." He says, heading towards the kitchen. "Lights off when you're done here." He knows Simon's capable of closing, but he repeats it every night regardless.

"Sir."

Price stops, halfway through the kitchen door. He looks at Simon, who's now staring directly back at him. There's a look in his face, something that reminds him of Ghost - the reason he became his right-hand man.

"Respectfully..." he says slowly. "Back off."

Price almost finds it comical. Like an animal staking its claim, staring at its rival - except they’re not rivals. The only reason Simon is bothering to play his captain's game, asking for permission to have what Price would happily hand over, is because he's his superior. Even if they're all retired from the SAS, no one ever really dropped the dynamics of the team.

He smiles, nodding his head once. "Understood." He says, shoving himself through the kitchen door. "But hurry up and say somethin' to 'er. I'm sick of you losing your mind during the rush."

With that, Simon hears him leave through the back door. He stays there for a moment, his mind reeling - he feels both satisfied and angry at the same time. It was a bit humiliating to tell Price to leave you for himself - you don't belong to him. But that was a problem he was going to fix. You had his name on your back-

For Christ’s sake, he’s got to give it a rest. You wore his shirt, that was all. You wore it – with no bra. Bare. Naked underneath the 141’s insignia, under his title.

And that damn bra is still in his room.

He can’t take it anymore. He unscrews the whiskey bottle and takes a few swigs, before slamming it back onto the bar top. He leaves the bottle and the glass there as he gets up, making his way across the floor, up the stairs, passing the office, and continuing up to his studio flat.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. If you’d gone snooping, you either did a good job of hiding the evidence, or you didn’t really rifle through too much. His bed was untouched, his books and items where he had put them last – he goes into his drawers, checking to see if you had gone through anything other than his shirts. Considering everything is still where it should be, he assumed not. Though you did leave a mess in his shirt drawer – you’d been digging around in there until you found his old SAS shirt. Did you mean to do that? Were you looking for something with his name on it, just to drive him insane?

He goes back into his top drawer, muttering a curse as he pushes the contents aside. His cock is pulsing in his pants as he grabs his pocket pussy, slamming the drawer shut and heading towards his bed. He doesn't want to draw this one out - this is nothing more than a wank, just to get you out of his head. He sits at the foot of his bed and unbuttons his jeans, pulling his hard length out of his briefs – it bounces up and slaps against his abdomen, precum already smeared across the tip. He’s been hard for hours now, trying not to cum in his pants at the thought of your tits rubbing against the inside of his shirt. Do you have small, pebbly nipples? Or ones that are soft and pliant? He growls as he smears the tip of his cock against the lips of the toy, rubbing up and down the slit. He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. You’re there, rubbing your lips on his cock, your hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as you stare up at him, licking and kissing his tip like a good girl…

He scowls and opens his eyes, sitting upright – he sees your bra hanging off the back of his chair, and he nearly passes out form how quickly the blood rushes to his cock. Pink lace, delicate and kinda skimpy… and your shirt, crumpled on the seat of the chair. You’d forgotten to shove them into your bag before you left. Or did you do this on purpose?

He's reaching out before he realizes it, slowly standing up and heading towards the chair. He wants to grab your bra, rub his cock in it until he stains it with his thick cum – but something in the back of his mind keeps him from touching it. One, it’s purely you, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. Two, he’s trying to cum. Not to cum to you. He’s doing this to get rid of your image in his head.

So, he goes for the next best thing. He grabs your shirt and sits back down on the edge of the bed. He lines himself up with his fleshlight and brings your shirt to his face; no wonder the drinks had turned it translucent, it was the thinnest fabric he had ever felt. Practically skin.

He presses it against his face and inhales: the scent of you, sweet, floral and spicy, fills his mind. It makes it all to easy to imagine that you’re sinking down onto his cock, and not that he’s stuffed it as far as he can into the toy. He groans, his eyelids fluttering shut as he pumps his hips once, then again… the tightness of the fleshlight slides over him easily, offering no resistance with the precum acting as a lube while he grinds up into it, heat knotting in his gut. The waist of his jeans hugs his thighs as he slowly and steadily pulses towards the ceiling, taking deep breaths of your scent.

He feels like an animal. Dirty, cheap, and desperate. He has to remind himself that it’s not about you, it’s about having a good wank and getting you out of his head. He drops your shirt on his chest and uses his free hand to cup his balls, groaning as he massages them. The schlick of the fleshlight around his dick is loud, the sensation borderline painful as he quickly fucks into it, curses spilling past his lips as he slams the thing down to the base of his length, catching on the Jacob’s ladder piercing on the underside, then back to the tip.

He shouldn’t, but he lets his mind slip elsewhere. What would you be doing? Would you have your hands on his chest, lips parted in a moan as you drop your hips onto his thighs, your cunt dripping and squeezing around his member…? What are you doing now? Are you still wearing his shirt? Are you lying back on your bed, playing with your breasts under the fabric and using your other hand to toy with your pussy? What do you sound like? Are you saying his name, or can you make any sound at all?

He falls back against the bed. “Fuck fuck fuck-“ he mumbles. He’s caught himself in a trap here – he can’t allow himself to indulge in the thought of you, begging him to take your hips and buck up into you – but it’s impossible to get you out of his head. Even if he could, he doesn’t think he’d be able to cum without you. He squeezes his fist around the fleshlight, groaning loudly from the pain, trying to drown out the sounds of your moans in his head… you’re always there, ever present, leaning over him and whimpering in his ear, need you, Simon, wanna cum on your cock, want it inside-

It's all too much for him, but not enough. He turns himself over, climbing up to his knees on the bed. He props himself up on his forearm, holding the fleshlight with his other hand as he ruts into it, stuffing his cock in as far as it will go, until the lips are smashed against the base. He pants and groans, mouth hanging open as he hovers over the bed; over you, holding one of your thighs up, touching his forehead against yours, watching as you’re covered in a layer of sweat, tits bouncing with each violent thrust of his hips. Both wrists secured above your head with one of his meaty hands, whimpers and whines spilling from your mouth as you struggle to remain coherent. Your cunt swallows him greedily, hugs him tightly, pulses around him, coaxes him to pound into you harder and harder, your walls twitching as slick gushes around him, your fingers digging into the back of his hand as you cry out his name, “Simon, Simon, Simon”-

He hisses through his teeth as his balls seize up, his abdomen going taut and his dick twitching in the toy. He rips the fleshlight off and grabs your shirt without a second thought, wrapping it tight around his cock and pumping it. “Gonna cum, gonna cum- fuck- oh, fuck-!” He mumbles to no one as his orgasm is ripped from him, hips canting repeatedly as cum spurts into the fabric of your shirt, leaking out around his thighs as he thrusts into it, thighs aching from the exertion. He bites into his hand and growls as he continues rutting, fighting through the overstimulation to chase what remains of his high – but he soon collapses on the bed, huffing and groaning into the mattress.

His orgasm fades slowly, his heart ramming against his ribcage and the fog clearing from his head. Realization sinks in as he’s hyper-aware of your shirt, still wrapped around his dick, now soaked in his cum. He'd have to wash it, now. Filthy doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels, but he doesn’t find it in him to care anymore. He rolls onto his side, clutching your shirt in his hand. Fuck. One quick tug was all this was supposed to be, and now, he’s picturing you lying across from him. Face flushed, lips swollen and eyes hazy, smiling at him and panting. Telling him you love him. He’d say it back a million times. Listening as you breathe, as you talk about your silly little ideas for the pub, for redecorating his room… craving the moment where you drag yourself closer to him and snuggle into his chest for the rest of the night.

He hasn’t gotten rid of you, like he hoped for. He’s only made it more clear: he wants you. He wants his life to be threaded with yours, he wants to wake up next to you, he wants you to change his routine, to pick up his broken pieces and make a mosaic – and he wants to be there when you need someone, he wants to give you everything you want and more, whether that’s a life up in the clouds or down here, in his arms, in his small bed and lackluster apartment. You’d make it better; you’d make anything better.

He sighs, slowly sitting up and on the edge of the bed. Price was right – he’s got to hurry up and say something to you, or else he’ll be drowned in his obsession. You’d either agree to take this fucked-up giant on a date and end his misery, or you’d reject him, and he could force you from his thoughts and replace you with misery. It’s worked before.  

He pulls off his jeans and shirt and grabs the fleshlight, standing with a grunt and walking into his bathroom. He’s planning to clean the toy, but if he waits long enough, he might just be fucking it again in the shower.

[wendichester]

it’s me again girl💋

please can I request Cass x Winchester!reader (Sam and deans younger sister) where Sam and Dean are trying to research but reader and Castiel are playing footsies under the table giggling like teenagers

-💌

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ angel in your lap, devil in your smile,

summary. you should be focusing on this really serious, really important research session. but castiel is sitting across from you. and well, you can't help yourselves.

pairing. castiel x winchester!reader genre. fluffy fluff

wordcount. 589

notes / warnings. honestly, such a cute idea. i think I'm falling for cas, slow but god damn steady.

Sam’s got three books open in front of him and still looks pissed.

Dean’s scowling at his laptop like it personally insulted him.

There are post-it notes, empty coffee cups, and one very aggressive stack of lore on ancient Babylonian banishment rituals spread across the war room table.

And then there’s you.

Sitting right across from Castiel, pretending to read.

You flip a page you haven’t actually looked at.

Cas’s foot nudges yours.

You smile into your book.

Another nudge. This time, deliberate. A slow little drag of his boot along the inside of your ankle. You twitch slightly and accidentally let out a breathy giggle.

Dean doesn’t even glance up. “What’s funny?”

“Hmm?” you blink innocently.

He narrows his eyes. “You laughing at our impending doom, or did Cas grow a sense of humor when I wasn’t looking?”

“I am capable of humor,” Castiel says solemnly.

You stifle another laugh. His poker face is immaculate.

Sam groans. “Can we focus, please?”

“Yes, of course,” Cas says. “This is very serious.”

You bite your lip.

Under the table, his foot slides up your calf.

You kick him gently, and he kicks back. It turns into this soft, flirty little tug-of-war under the table — just a touch here, a nudge there — and you can’t stop smiling.

You glance up at him. He’s looking at you like you hung the moon. Like this isn’t just flirting to him — it’s worship.

You have to look back down before Dean starts asking questions.

Too late.

Dean lowers his laptop and gives you a look.

You blink. “What?”

He gestures vaguely between you and Cas. “Why do you look like you just got laid?”

Your mouth opens. Closes. “I—”

“I do not understand the correlation,” Castiel says, ever helpful. “She is smiling. She often smiles after we—”

“OKAY,” Sam barks. “Nope. No. We are not doing this right now.”

Dean leans back in his chair. “You gotta be kidding me.”

You cross your arms. “What, I’m not allowed to be happy?”

“Not with him, you’re not.”

“Dean—”

“He’s an angel!”

“Yeah, and you dated a demon.”

Sam coughs pointedly.

Dean scowls. “Different. Totally different.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t have to sit across from her while she was playing footsies with him during a demonic meltdown!”

Your jaw drops. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew! You’ve got heart eyes the size of Kansas!”

Castiel tilts his head. “That’s not anatomically accurate—”

Dean throws his hands in the air. “This is my life. Ancient demons, horny angels, and my sister giggling like a teenager while we’re trying to stop the apocalypse.”

Sam mutters, “Honestly, kind of impressive.”

Dean shoots him a look.

You clear your throat. “Okay, yes. We were playing footsies. Sue us.”

“You’re not even sorry,” Dean mutters.

Cas looks at you. “Should I be?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Nope.”

Dean slumps back in his chair. “Great. Awesome. My angel’s whipped. My sister’s in love. Sam’s useless. I’m the only one doing any work around here.”

Sam flips a page. “We could banish you and see how that goes.”

“I’m surrounded by traitors.”

You reach under the table and grab Cas’s hand. He squeezes gently, thumb brushing your knuckles.

And yeah, okay, maybe you are smiling like an idiot.

But as Castiel leans in — quiet, close, lips brushing your temple before he goes back to his book — you can’t find it in yourself to feel bad.

Because honestly?

Let the world end.

You’ll go down holding his hand.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[parfaitblogs]

waiting room ❀ s. reid x reader

in which he breaks up with you, and your life slowly falls apart. so obviously you should see him?

pairing: ex!spencer reid x reader genre: angst tags: implied alcohol reliance? lots of nothing happening not even a gun to my head could get me to write action... do not read if emotionally stable because i sure wasn't when i wrote this. word count: 1.9k a/n: i never write in second person so if there's a cheeky she her they them somewhere in this ignore it!!! i do not know what i am doing!!! probably not proofread enough. also no happy ending i hate those let the people cry i say! i haven't posted my writing in like three years be nice...

also posted here on my ao3 !

"Hey."

"Hi."

Awkward silence. Horribly awkward silence.

Your eyes darting around a bar that you found all too familiar, with decor that you could paint on a canvas with your eyes closed, and such a distinct smell that you could imagine it from miles away. You didn't think you'd ever forget the way the air moved in this bar, or the sound of the same three bands singing every Friday night on repeat. You knew all the words to their songs by now. And the bartender knew your name, embarrassingly so. 

And even over the sound of patrons talking, and the clinking of glasses and every other overwhelming sound that drove you crazy, you felt like you could hear your heartbeat slamming against your chest. Your lips chapped, never wetting no matter how many times you produced the saliva in your otherwise dry mouth to lick them. Hands wrapped around an ice cold glass that did nothing but numb some part of your body, to accompany the numb feeling in your chest. 

You looked better than you felt, but he��was knocking both parts of you out of the park. Maybe that's why your mouth was so dry. You'd tell yourself that it is, at least. He's too attractive to talk to. But you could talk to him. You did talk to him. All the time. About everything, and nothing. Because that's what you two did. 

And yet; the awkward silence. 

He cleared his throat, and it prompted you to take a sip of your drink, mixed alcohol falling down your throat and leaving a burn that shouldn't comfort you, but did. You didn't pull a face at the taste of it the way you used to, and you found yourself wishing that part of you that you despised was back. 

Maybe he would tease you for it again.

"How's work?"

The words felt foreign on your lips. It wasn't really what you wanted to ask him, but every inquiry you had died on your tongue before you could ask them, nothing feeling good enough. 

"It's good," he answered, eyes studying you in a way that made you want to shrink into nothingness. 

"That's good," you said, and you saw the small twitch of his lips — brief, before they fell back into their natural downturned shape. 

It was almost comical how much silence sat between you two. Two people who would talk until people around them were groaning and regretting asking them a question, falling silent in the presence of one another. 

He cleared his throat again. Maybe you should offer him some water, but then you realised this wasn't your house and he was fully capable of getting his own water. And everything else in the world.

"How's work for you?"

"It's good," you answered, half-heartedly, because you really didn't know. You hadn't been in months. 

You didn't really realise a breakup would affect you this much. You had always been good. Good at putting emotional turmoil on pause for your busy life. You never considered the possibility of putting your busy life on pause for emotional turmoil. 

But then Spencer Reid left you. You never considered the possibility of that happening either, until it did. 

"Is it?" he asked, and you watched his body shift slightly in his seat, almost leaning closer to you. 

And unfortunately, you can only pretend in front of the man across from you for so long. "No," you said.

"Why not?" 

"I'm not going." Your voice was embarrassingly quiet, but you knew he heard you, because his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, and his lips parted for a second. It made you want to take the words back; to lie again. "I got laid off a week ago."

He slowly nodded his head in recognition — that would explain your sudden request to meet. "I'm sorry."

You could imagine a million things you knew he'd be saying the words for, but not one part of you really believed it for any of them. So you only nodded your head, gaze dropping from him to the glass in front of you, the paper straw disintegrating in the liquid — something you weren't used to; you would finish drinks too quickly for that to happen. 

You didn't come here to mope. You do that every other Friday night. You didn't need to do that tonight, when the man you were spending your nights sobbing and your mornings numb over was right there with you.

"How's your mom?" you ask instead, lifting your head back up, and you watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. 

"She's okay. Same as usual," he said, and you nodded your head. Short answers seemed to be the only thing you guys knew how to do. "How's yours?"

"Good," you answer, because the question doesn't really have the same weight as it did when you asked him; he only did it to be courteous. "She misses having you over."

That brought a small smile to his face. "I miss being over."

You can come back, you want to say, but you know that isn't true. 

You don't know how much longer you two sit in silence before he breaks it with a sigh that, if you didn't know better, you'd think was irritated. But it wasn't; simply exhausted. 

"Why did you want to meet me?" he finally asked, and your lips parted, before shutting again, because you're not too sure the answer is something you're allowed to say aloud. 

You say it anyway.

"I missed you."

You watched his facial features soften, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and that only seemed to bring more nervous energy to you. 

"You shouldn't," he said, and if your heart had anything left for him, it probably would have cracked again. 

You knew that you shouldn't. You had told yourself to get over it a thousand times before. Your go-to mantra was grow up. But you couldn't. Your brain wouldn't let it go and your eyes could just never stay dry for long enough to think it's finally over. It was almost pathetic. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding your head, slowly, and you were pretty sure tears were welling in your eyes, which felt even more pathetic in front of him. 

"I'm sorry."

This time it was you to apologise, and you knew he didn't believe your apology either. Not when you didn't even know what you were apologising for. Missing him, meeting him here, ever even dating him in the first place.

"It's okay," he said, instead, and you watched him exhale shakily, his lips rubbing against each other — usually a telltale sign he didn't want to be wherever he was any longer. That broke your heart too. 

Words died in your throat as you abruptly stood up, the stool you were perched atop wobbling slightly with your sudden movements. 

You stared at him for another moment, committing his face to memory, before you nodded your head to him in acknowledgement, pocketing your phone. You forced a smile, and left. 

Maybe not the best move you've ever done in your life. Not the move you wanted to do. But certainly the smartest. 

Because the second the cool, early fall air hit your skin, so did your tears, and you found that even ordering an Uber was difficult through blurry vision. So you decided to walk. Walk where, you didn't know. Away from the bar. Through the people-filled square; people as drunk as you wished to be, people out with friends and partner's, to have fun. People having a much better night than you, clearly. 

You heard your name. And something in you screamed to not turn around, to not give in to the caller. Probably the logical part of your brain. But your heart ignored it, and you halted in your tracks, turning to see him walking towards you, eyebrows furrowed in so much concern you think you'd crack further than you already have. Maybe if you split yourself down the middle it would finally stop hurting. 

"I miss you too."

Four simple words that could be heard even over the mixed songs playing from the clubs around you, even over the beeping cars and the chattering people. 

"Please don't lie to make me feel better," you croak, and you're acutely aware of the tears on your cheeks. 

"I'm not lying," he breathed out, and you were far enough away from his body to see his hand twitch. For whatever reason you didn't know. "Sweetheart, you're breaking my heart, here."

Oh.

You swallowed down a sob, swiping another set of falling tears before they could get too far down your cheeks.

"Spencer, please," you said, so desperately that you wanted to shoot yourself. "I shouldn't have asked you to meet."

"No, you shouldn't have," he agreed, and your heart stuttered in your chest, because he was telling you things you shouldn't do. Again. "Not that I—" he cut himself off with a sigh; frustrated, this time. "Not that I didn't want to see you, because I did. You're the only person I want to see recently. But I was getting better, and I know I've ruined all that by being here with you tonight."

I was getting better. The words echoed over and over in your brain. If he was just as bad as you were, maybe it would make this easier. Maybe you aren't as pathetic. 

"I hate this," you settled on, fidgeting awkwardly with your fingers. 

He didn't respond for a few too many moments, and it had you wanting to take back your words. He rubbed his eyes with another sigh. 

"I'm not going back on my decision," he said, and you didn't need to ask what decision; you had an idea, and your stomach twisted uncomfortably. 

But you did anyways. "Which decision?"

"Breaking up with you."

You were silent for a few moments too. "I'm not asking you to—"

"—No, but you want me to," he cuts you off. "And I'm telling you I won't. You know why I did it. That trumps whatever feelings I have for you."

Have.

"I don't know why," you said, shakily. You did. He gave you a reason, and if you had to explain the breakup to someone, you could tell them why. But the ongoing conflict in your brain confused you anyways. 

"Yes you do," he answered, his jaw tensing. When you shook your head, and went to respond, he cut you off, stepping closer. "I can afford to lose you. I can't afford for the world to."

He had said something similar the day he left. Something about a fear of you dying. Something you had tried to reassure him of, failing to do so clearly. 

"What about me?" your voice cracked and you cursed it.

"It will get better."

You could've cried all over again, in the middle of the square. Everything always for the better. Never for the right now, for the things you both wanted. But for the everlasting fear Spencer had in his brain, that you didn't know how to help. 

"Apparently," you replied, sniffling as you took a step away from him. "I think I should go."

If he wanted to protest, he didn't show it. He simply nodded his head, lips parting in a silent exhale. 

And so you did, with wet cheeks, and a quiet, "Goodbye, Spencer."

loml (part 2) ♡

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

Just finished reading this and I LOVED IT!!!

May I ask for another part but with Jade, Kalim, and Silver??? Pwetty pwease??? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

If you read this, thank you for taking the time to do so and please have a nice timezone!!!

A/n: Hihi!! Srry I just woke up a few minutes ago!!! And sure I can! Thank you for the request, @onegianthotmess !!! And thank you for the kind request!!! Love your pfp btw!

💋🪽Wifey material, but can still kick ass💋🪽

Characters: Jade Leech, Kalim Al-Asim, Silver Vanrouge (omg I'm so terrible at writing Silver-)

Warning ⚠️: fem!mc is the warning itself, OOC(cuz I'm not sure if I wrote it right.. I mean, hc, yes?), I'm terrible at describing fights (help), maybe slight cussy as well??, Reader takes a random brick somewhere (Jade's part), violence(?), <-idk it's just the guy bleeding, Jade is a warning bc I said so (and his stupid gorgeous face), idk what else is in here, amazing Grammer/j, it is not accurate since it's future 🫶, idk what else to add.

Fem!Mc [<-but the kid calls you momma bc u give off those vibes.]

The last part here <-💋🪽

Jade Leech (When was the last time hisui-dreamer was active on Tumblr??)

You and Jade were a very happy couple, a bit too perfect (ahem). You are a very sweet and dedicated wife, yet you tend to forget things. Oh, no worries, my dear~ sit back and relax, he'll do it for you. He insists. But, of course, in the end, you'll give him a nice reward. The two of you are just lovey-dovey behind closed doors or subtly outside until both of you had [insert name]. [Insert name] was almost like a Jade 2.0 (when will there be a timeline your kid gets most of your genes? Idk), but had the same fcking compassion for mushrooms as your husband... oh dear heavenly fathers... but it's okay, you still loved them. [Insert name] was kind of like you, having the same hair color and that distinctively obvious black hair strand from Jade's [If your hair is black or dark, just pretend the strand is longer than the rest of the hair, and tends to stick out]. So, your kid was sweet... And cunning asf. Floyd liked calling the kid 'sea bunny' but since the kid was a half-mer (<-eel), it was an inside joke... now, how would you feel if your man/kid got hit/kidnap?

Your man gets hit:

•Idk how that happened. But, let's say he got caught off-guard for once and didn't expect the weak looking client to jump him like that.

•Well, isn't that interesting? And, to think that this client was capable of packing a punch-

•Oya?~ who's that- *A brick being thrown at the assailant with sound effects.*

•Ah... Well, if it isn't his lovely wife coming to the rescue!~ and, to think that you had this wonderfully fierce side of you? How delightful. It felt like he was at the courting stage all over again.

•So fiery, so protective... How come you haven't shown this behavior in a while? He'd love to see more of it. Come, after this, let us go to a private dinner, yes?

•So Cue to weeks later from the incident, he's here just spoiling you, oh. Don't mistaken him for being afraid of you, no, no, what a silly thought. He's just... a bit more infatuated than usual...

Kalim Al-Asim

•No, he isn't planning anything (other than torturing the poor soul that you had to deal with) he just wants to spoil you.

•And keep you to himself, making sure you wouldn't have to deal with 'those' anymore.

When your child gets kidnapped:

Your child isn't really going to get kidnapped. Rather, it was the opposite. It was the kidnapper getting kidnapped. No, your child isn't weird, they're doing the right thing, momma! Look! Aren't you happy?

So your child gets hit instead.

•Jade is enraged. No one should be touching his family. Not his kid, nor his wife.

•So imagine he masked all that, but then you bolted in again.

•With an aluminum bat with spikes. (Club? Bludgeon?) Sprinting toward the assailant with the speed equivalent to a horror movie chase.

•Oh, my. You're wearing the formal dress he gave you when you two were attending an important event! How interesting it is, seeing you wear it now. And in that state of anger as well. Ah, and look at his child, giving you words of encouragement. He beams, revealing all razor-sharp teeth he has. His co-workers trembling, because WTF? WHY IS THAT FMAILY FILLED WITH PSYCHOS?? They really thought you were the normal one (but comparably saying, you ARE the normal one in the family of Leech).

•Then you went back to normal (and no, let your imagination go wild with whatever happened to the guy you hit with the bat..), oh, it's playtime! C'mon [insert name] let's go to your favorite location! Yayayay!

•Yes, a normal family...

Your man gets endangered (<-yes):

So, you were doomed by the narrative bc you're being married to a merchant's son. Not only that, he's the HEIR to a massive FORTUNE. So, what I'm saying in short is... you're cooked. Especially your child. But you two can watch out anyway (maybe not Kalim, but you). But Kalim is emotionally intelligent (hc), so, he's not entirely dumb about his situation either. He's worried you'll be next, getting poisoned, assassinated, kidnapped for ransom, blah, blah, blah... yeah, you had to shut him up for that. And you two eventually had a kid. [Insert name]. Or more, depends. But, nonetheless, what's happen is your man/kid gets hit/kidnapped?

•He knew this would come, but he didn't know exactly WHEN. But it did anyway, so as he was preparing- what?

Silver Vanrouge

•You were there, tackling armed men. Throwing one assassin to the other (<-accidentally kissed), threw the other one downstairs(<-broke his spine and more), another one was hanging on the ceiling (<-doesn't know how to get down bc equipment broke), the rest was being whooped by you.

•Oh...guess he didn't need it anymore! (<-what was it? Don't ask me.) Haha! Whoa! You can fight!??! Hey, teach him! Or both our child! Haha! That being said, the family said no (bc Kalim doesn't need too, the next heir as well. But, shh you snuck the kid out to practice), so let's not tell anyone what you and your child do at night, okay? You totally weren't teaching the kid how to swiftly attack your beloved archenemy. Haha, never.

•Okay, maybeee a little. But hey, never too careful in this family, right?

When your kid gets kidnapped:

•Fuck no. The kidnapper should've heard about the motherly beast of Al-Asim (whom, is you),and they should know. NOT to touch your child, right? But...money... well then they die like [dumbass] men.

•So que to you snapping one of their necks, choking some of them, half of them killed themselves bc they didn't wanna deal with you, most of them pissed their pants seeing you, then getting crushed by a big-ass pillar (dk where you got that from), and using one of their men as a weapon itself.

•Uhm, well...nvm they're letting your child go now... IS THAT A BLINKY- *POW POW POW POW*

•Kalim arrived just in time to see his wife and kid safe. Phew!- wait. Huh?

•How are you guys- nvm. He remembered now, you probably pulled the gun on them. Well, uh... now he knows his wife is fully capable of protecting his family! No, he does not want you to be an servant. You are his wife, not maid. Get back here, and cuddle with him.

You and Silver lived happily ever after. A simple life, a simple house, Silver financially supporting you, and the cycle of love (between his parents) happens all over again. With you being his sweet and dedicated wife, although tending to forget important things, you know you'll never forget to wake up your important Silver, and [insert name]. Actually, [insert name] looks a bit like you, and has the eyes of their father. They have your dedication and tendency to forget, while they also have the determination, soft-spokenness, humility, and kindness from their father (And sweetness from you). So what happens if your man/kid gets hit/kidnapped?

Your man gets hit:

•Ain't no way.

•huh. You really think you could be slick with all that? No. Don't touch Silver dumbass.

•Though, personally thinking, I don't think he needs much protection so let's say you and Silver team up and jump the guy (Silver was doing the talking, he was holding his feral wife back...) but when he couldn't get the message? Oh no, all of a sudden. His hand slipped. Oh, and if they hit Silver's wife? Wallah. That guy asked to meet God.

•So after the entire conflict was over (personal crash-outs, BBW-ing the guy, doing a sumo stance, literally every martial art mechanism) the guy (crawled) ran away.

•Safe to say no one messed with you or him.

•Never.

Your kid getting kidnapped:

Okay so maybe your child was sleeping (like Silver), and unfortunately, Silver was sleeping. He didn't know there was a stranger coming in to take his kid away, thankfully you were awake. You heard the scream, Silver woke up to a very normal morning of you beating the shit of an intruder...

•Ah...What a fresh start in the morning. Really. *Watching you throw hands with somebody while spitting bars of insults.*

•What? You said that [insert name] almost got kidnapped? Ah, well it can't be helped when he felt the feeling of uselessness in him. Because he couldn't protect his child. What kind of father is he?- "Silver! A little help here!" Yes, he's on it.

•*Unsheathes sword.* No Silver, not like that/j

•But anyways, after this, the child was safe, "Momma!" [Insert name] cried out. The child was safe, you were safe, and lastly, Silver's family is unharmed.

•But he must be vigilant from now on, though.

The End

A/n: OMG IM SO SRRY FOR POSTING THIS IT WAS MEANT TO STAY IN DRAFTS??? BUT ITS OKAY ITS DONE ALREADY

[daosies]

how they love you

xavier, rafayel ♡ gn!reader

warnings: major xavier and rafayel story spoilers, reader is the protagonist from the game (but gender neutral), rafayel is his own warning (hes a bit of a freak)

notes: im writing this like i understand xavier and rafayels lore (i dont. all i did was read up on reddit and the wiki before going straight off the dome.)

"xavier," jeremiah calls incredulously, "you're staring."

"no, i'm not," xavier lies straight through his teeth. his periwinkle eyes trail after you like they're bound to you, held together by a red string that knots at his irises.

(maybe they are.)

xavier blinks, resting for but a moment before his gaze returns. it'll always return—xavier thinks he does a lot of that. return.

"at least try to pretend," jeremiah remarks, tender expression betraying his incredulous tone. despite the fact that xavier is loitering in philo, posing a hazard to the nearby flora with his intense aura, jeremiah can't bring himself to say anything more.

xavier is in love—but that's not right, jeremiah thinks. xavier has always been in love. he loved you back in philos, in all your incarnations and the ones thereafter. xavier loved you when you sparred against him, when you rose to the throne, and even when you suffered and while everyone was against you, he loved you then, too.

jeremiah supposes that it's only right that xavier loves you now. because xavier loves with his whole being, it's not just his eyes that follow after you, but rather, his existence.

xavier follows you despite the era, traveling centuries back and staying just to catch a glimpse of you, to glimmer, ever so slightly, in your incomparable radiance.

we could go back, jeremiah thinks, conjuring up the possibility despite his nerves telling him not to. we could go back to philos. the core within your heart holds infinite possibilities.

if xavier wanted to, he could obtain your aether core, and that would be enough to return to the future—where you still exist, sure, but more importantly (to jeremiah, at least), where philos exists.

("we will not kill them," xavier muttered darkly, "do not bring this topic up again. i will find another solution.")

(and that was where jeremiah went wrong. because to xavier, philos is nothing. you have always been the whole, vast universe. you are the most important thing in this life, and the many more thereafter; and to xavier, no future matters except the one you exist in now.)

so, he did. he tried, at least. xavier scoured the ruined earth for protocores that could mimic the same capabilities of yours. he lived through centuries on earth, fighting for existence despite knowing that the answer lied, as it always has been, in you.

when your incarnation appeared, jeremiah never once doubted xavier's judgement. while the other backtrackers under xavier's command went mad, trying to harvest your aether core to return to philos, xavier fought—but more than that, actually. xavier loved.

xavier loved, no, loves, so fervently, so profoundly, that he killed the backtrackers who had tried to harm you. you are not the same incarnation that he loved back in philos, but the fact that it's you is enough for xavier to rid all doubts.

and jeremiah thinks that, despite xavier's desperate intent to return back to philos, he wouldn't mind living here on earth with you now. jeremiah has noticed that the fervent expression his captain once wore has dwindled into something more mellow, into something tender.

something like the looks he'd send to you from afar, chasing you across school rooftops and coexisting in between the clashing of blades—xavier loves.

and love has made him content. and love has made him present, when he never was before. when all he could do, prior to your incarnation's existence, was think of returning to philos.

(how could he return to philos when you're right here?)

"[name]," jeremiah calls, feigning ignorance to the way xavier glares at him, the captain's tender expression suddenly dissipating into nothingness. ouch, jeremiah thinks, mouthing to xavier, "you don't have to make it that obvious you don't like me."

"yeah?" you reply, glancing up from the foliage. xavier reaches over the many shelves of flora—much to jeremiah's dismay—before parting them to get a good look at your face. xavier smiles. jeremiah's jaw drops.

"did you find something you liked? you said you had to get a bouquet for a friend, right?" jeremiah asks, egging xavier on.

"a friend?" xavier echoes, not even bothering to look at the florista behind him.

"oh, yeah! i'm choosing a bouquet for this one guy—" jeremiah sees the way xavier's expression goes blank, lips thinning into a line whilst his periwinkle eyes, somehow, manage to retain their enamored look.

ah, jeremiah realizes, it's 'cause captain is still looking at them. of course it is—why did he expect any other reason?

although xavier remains silent, jeremiah knows that the only thing running through the captain's mind is: guy, guy, guy?!

"a guy?" jeremiah queries, deciding to put xavier out of his misery.

"yeah. he worked with my grandma when she was younger, but i have to deliver it through one of my friends because he lives in the arctic..."

"that means he's old," jeremiah whispers, loud enough for only xavier to hear. the captain glances away.

at least try to hide that look of relief, jeremiah thinks incredulously. still, it's fun to see xavier like this: with his tense brows easing up, his thinned lips turning slightly upwards. when xavier loves, he does it with his whole being.

it's in the way he slips in between the aisles of flora in order to be next to you. in the way he carries the vases of flowers for you despite knowing you're perfectly capable of doing so yourself.

when xavier loves, it's evident in the way his cold, indigo eyes melt into hues made of periwinkle. it's in the way his touch, hardened by years of training, melts into something as light as a feather. it grazes past your face, brushing a stray leaf away.

"how much will it be, jeremiah?" you ask, preparing your coin pouch. jeremiah feels xavier's glare piercing his skin.

i know, i know! is all jeremiah thinks. "for free. don't worry about it!"

"huh? that can't be right... these are a lot of flowers, jeremiah."

"it's okay, [name]," xavier interjects, resting a hand over yours to prevent you from getting your money. "he owes me a favor, and i never buy flowers. so it's best used for your bouquet."

again, xavier lies fluidly through his teeth.

"are you sure...? you could buy a couple flowers, xavier! you know, to decorate your room?"

xavier shakes his head. "i'd forget to water them, probably."

liar, jeremiah thinks. for his own safety, he opts to keep his mouth shut, observing the situation with a suppressed smile.

xavier can't even be bothered to hide his infatuation—when he does so much as look at you, his world comes to a halt, his attention fixated wholly on you when usually it drifts off into wonderland.

when he does so much as hear you, or perceive you, or exist with you, xavier shrinks into nothing, permeating wholly into your skin, melting into your bones and becoming a part of you.

forget his title as captain, or lumiere, or crown prince—xavier becomes yours. and that's all he needs to be.

somehow, jeremiah thinks that xavier is more than just a lover.

he's love itself.

rafayel taps his foot impatiently. with his arms crossed, his gaze darts back and forth between the clock and the door, brows furrowing once he realizes you're nowhere to be seen.

"ugh, that bodyguard!" he cries to no one. "always making me wait for this and that.... puh-lease, like i care!"

rafayel turns around and starts heading into the art museum, lips curled into a pout whilst he glances occasionally over his shoulder. eventually, he stops, still trying to discreetly scope out the premises.

they're still not here?! is all he thinks, reaching for his phone with newfound passion. rafayel tries calling you a couple times, somehow getting more and more offended when you don't pick up.

he then resorts to spamming your texts, his phone flailing around in his hands from the onslaught of his madness.

"you think this is just a game, huh?!" rafayel texts. "fine, it is! whatever! not like i care!!!!"

when you don't respond, he blinks owlishly in disbelief, staring at the screen with his mouth hanging agape.

no way they ignored me! rafayel thinks, somehow even more offended than before.

but the irritation nestled in his stomach morphs into worry, and the worry contorts into yearning. oh, rafayel thinks, staring at your contact name for far longer than he'd like to admit. what if something happened to them?

rafayel's imagination eggs his yearning further. what if you're waiting for him somewhere—with nothing but him on your mind, of course—tears spilling from your eyes while crying his name? what if you're injured, clutching your wound whilst thinking of him—and his killer looks—wishing you could see him right now?

oh. rafayel's imagination eggs his yearning further. oh, what if they're injured? he thinks, his fingers beginning to glide all across his phone's keyboard, spamming you like a madman whose lost all sense of reason.

"you don't have to show up," he starts texting, but quickly deletes that sentence. "text me when you see this," he manages to send, hand coming up to fiddle with some stray strands of his wisteria hair.

he feels his heart thrash against his chest like a fish out of water, his skin beginning to feel stuffy while he grasps at his shirt, crumpling the pearl fabric under his hands. what if you're hurt? what if something happened to you? what if you're leaving, and he isn't able to catch up?

rafayel hates waiting. he turns around, heading toward the exit of the museum, ignoring the looks of confusion from the people who just watched him enter and clutch his head manically.

again, rafayel's imagination runs wild, feeding him delusions and convincing him that he's your knight in shining armor, saving you from the clutches of despair. obviously, after he saves you—with his killer looks and killer moves—you're going to grovel at his feet and beg for forgiveness, hoping that he'll spare you so much as a glance for your impudence.

he tries to ignore the way his ribs begin to constrict, the way his chest begins to ignite with agonizing pain. not again, is all he thinks, rushing out of the museum. not again.

rafayel loves you. sometimes, he hates to admit it. sometimes, he knows it's fact. rafayel loves you—how could he not? you are bound to him, no, rather, he is bound to you.

rafayel is bound to you, yet even then, he struggles to keep up. he follows you hopelessly into every incarnation, trailing after your existence like a drowning man at sea, gasping for air and a wisp of your presence. he had you, once. and what a twisted thing love is, to give him so much hope and radiance, that he can't possibly fathom to live without it now.

rafayel is hooked on you, drinking you in greedily with his eyes, searching for you desperately amidst the tides. rafayel is hooked on you, he's left in a constant state of wanting more, more, more, even though you don't feel the same. even though you're perfectly okay with leaving him, oblivious to the effect you have.

you have carved rafayel's being, forcing his hands to be a perfect fit with yours, forcing his eyes to only ever hold you. you've dismembered rafayel's bones, taking apart the shafts and forcing yourself in, your existence running through his marrow, your existence running through his veins.

sometimes, rafayel hates what you've done to him. he hates how he's reduced to a spectator in your presence, the way he's destined to love you despite all you've done to him.

rafayel hates the way you go around, saving everyone, saving everything, even though he was the first. he was your first victim, your first lover, your first everything.

and you've forgotten. and you've forgotten. how could you? sometimes, rafayel envies you. he wishes he could be as blissfully ignorant as you, he wishes he could rendezvous around the world, unaware of what he's done before.

(how could he? how could he ever forget you? how could rafayel ever be anything more than what you've made him?)

he laughs bitterly to himself, running a hand through his hair when your caller id shows up on his phone. rafayel half-considers letting you go to his voicemail, but oh, the way his heart constricts, the way his hands instinctively move to answer.

rafayel isn't like you—he has a heart, first of all—he's made of memories, made of century-old pacts and vows that have haunted him across lifetimes.

rafayel isn't like you, because, first and foremost, he loves. he loves you. he loves you! and oh, how could he not? how could he ever forget what you've done for him? how could he ever forget what you've done to him?

(and yet, he loves you anyway. rafayel loves you, despite the way you betrayed him, despite the way you forgot. rafayel loves you, not only because he was made to love you, but because it's you. does he need any other reason?)

just before your call gets forwarded to voicemail, rafayel picks up. he swallows thickly, letting his yearning drip down his throat, permeating into his organs whilst he says, dreading the way his voice cracks, ever so slightly, "ahem. what took you so long, huh?!"

your voice glitches on the other end. rafayel feels heat rush to the tips of his ears, feeling the way you sound so close to him. he presses the phone closer to his head.

"sorry, rafayel! i was busy,"—rafayel scoffs at this, so is he, you're not special—"but i'm coming right now! just wait for me, okay?"

"ugh! no, i don't wanna! i'm leaving! did you hear that? i'm," rafayel trails off, pausing for extra emphasis (hoping that you'd care enough to interrupt him), "i'm leaaavvii—"

you hang up. rafayel gasps, staring at the end screen with a flabbergasted look.

"no way! ugh! nobody respects me around here! making me wait... who do they think i am? a waiter? the waiter?" rafayel mutters incredulously to himself, sending glares towards anyone who eyes him weirdly.

still, he remains put, crossing his arms with a pronounced frown whilst sunset eyes scan the area, looking for your familiar motorbike.

rafayel waits. begrudgingly.

then again, he supposes he does a lot of that when it comes to you.

he opens your contact one more time. "some bodyguard you are!!!" he texts. "i could be dying right now and you still wouldn't pull up, huh?!?!"

"i'm dying! i'm dying! heeeelllooo?! i'm dying!" he spams. the familiar whirring of a motorbike appears, and rafayel glances up from his phone, horizon eyes growing wide.

rafayel hates the effect you have on him, the way your sudden appearance can bring tsunamis to a lull, the way your sudden appearance makes an utter fool of him.

still, rafayel lets you get away with it.

(you've gotten away with a lot of things.)

"raf!" you call. "quit spamming me!"

when you take your helmet off, rafayel's breath hitches. you steal the oxygen from his lungs, a mere wisp of your existence making the world tumble.

"hmph!" he crosses his arms, hoping you don't see the way his ears bloom a violent red. "don't tell me what to do! do you know how long it's been?!"

"ten minutes?" you reply, unamused. rafayel glares at you.

too long, he thinks, eyes tracing over the bridge of your nose and the curl of your lips. the artist instinct with him begins to flare—he wants to paint, he wants to devote himself to you all over again, drawing tirelessly into the night.

"no. eight-hundred years, you idiot!"

you roll your eyes. "what an exaggeration."

rafayel huffs. "puh-lease! i just say it as it is!"

you start heading towards the museum, and rafayel scrambles to catch up, his throat beginning to close. his heart—whatever's left of it, at least—lurching forward.

it chases you. it chases you! it always, always chases you.

into every life, into every eon. rafayel chases you, desperate and made of memories, hanging onto the depths of your soul, forfeiting the ocean and the tide and all that ever mattered.

then again, rafayel supposes that none of it matters now. you're here.

and even if you don't remember, rafayel will love you anyway.

(how could he not?)

[savannahsdeath]

hii i have a little ellie request. so can we maybe have an enemies to lovers where reader and ellie “hate each other” but in reality ellie just wants to be with reader and she ends up using the strap roughly bc reader didn’t wanna confess after years? (sorry this seems long😭)

i absolutely love this idea omg??

ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

PART1ONE

part 2two

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! smut, 'enemies' to lovers, strap (r!receiving), mean!ellie kinda??, rough!ellie, reader is also mean at first !!

writers note: i love receiving requests like yall are so creative and idkk its just easier to write a req than my own idea🫣🫣 also this turned out to be longer than i expected (my longest fanfic yet!) but even the anon said it seems long so ig thats how its supposed to be🙏

It was another PE lesson you hate so much. It wouldn't be that bad, if not the fact that you're in the same team with Ellie. Ellie fucking Williams.

She would get mad at you for every little mistake you made. You absolutely hated her.

You had to admit she was... pretty. Especially when she had the mix of mad and stern expression on her face. Sometimes you provoked her just to watch her insult every little thing about you she could but you didn't mind. You just sat there with a smirk, sometimes making a mockingly worried face to piss her off even more. Sometimes. Sometimes you weren't in mood for that and you'd actually get offended. Sometimes even hurt. But you couldn't really blame her, that's how it works.

This day, you were literally rescuing your team. Every point was because of you. Every 'that was close' situation was only 'close' because of you. But your luck, or whatever made you win, had to run out eventually. You missed one time.

"What happened? Got holes in your hands? Tired? Not so good anymore?" Ellie asked you with that mocking tone.

Everyone ignored your interaction - they knew what's starting and they didn't want to get involved in that.

"I've done pretty much everything for this team, and the only thing you do is complain, Williams." You said and you could feel your temper rising.

Ellie didn't hesitate to respond to that.

"Well at least I don't do a half-ass job like you. You're really so full of yourself, aren't you? Why not just give up and let someone actually capable take over, huh?" She barked sarcastically.

The other team members didn't even try to hide their excitement now, they just sat back and enjoyed the show, even the teacher was having a hard time holding back the grin on his face whenever Ellie came up with a new insult.

And now, there was no going back.

"Oh, I'm sorry Williams, did your precious little ego get hurt from that? Are my skills threatening your so-called pride? Well if you don't like it, suck it up." You shot back.

If this kept up, you were going to end up with another detention for sure. Everyone knew that you two were like oil and water, but nobody really expected you to get into a shouting match over PE class. Especially, not this early in the morning.

The teacher finally decided that it was enough trouble, and he stepped between the two.

"Ladies, settle down! If you can't figure out how to work well together in a simple PE session, then you'll need more than one detention to figure it out. Go sit down." He ordered, and you two sat down, next to each other.

As if following a silent order, all the other students just went about their business and pretended like nothing had happened.

"You should learn how to shut up sometimes." You said quietly, nervously playing with your fingers.

"You should stop thinking you're so damn important." She snapped back, completely ignoring your advice as she stared at you with the same icy cold look as before.

The teacher came over to the two of you and handed you a form, which you quickly read over. "Maybe it's rough but that's what you both deserve after arguing in every single class. And if that won't help... I don't know what will. Someone will check in on you from time to time, so don't even think about anything, understood?."

In short, the file was saying you'll have spent a month after school doing little school works, like cleaning the gym, with her. It was a frequent way of dealing with problematic students in your school.

You weren't even surprised - the teacher was right. Your little bickers were the main gossip topic and there was no way they'll go unnoticed.

Still, you couldn't help but frown.

"You've got to be kidding me." You muttered under your breath. Spending a month after school doing odd jobs with Ellie was literally the last thing you wanted to do. You knew there was some sort of punishment coming, but this was extreme.

Ellie overheard your muttering, and she rolled her eyes. "It's just a bunch of cleaning, what's wrong, can't handle a little hard work?" She mocked.

"And why are you so happy? Maybe you wished to spend more time with me?" You chuckled, finally looking up at her.

Ellie seemed caught off guard, but she quickly recomposed herself. "Who said I was happy? Sure, I'll love to see you grovel and scrub floors while I sit back and relax." She replied in a sarcastic tone.

You decided to press your advantage, and give Ellie a dose of her own medicine. "Aww, is someone actually admitting that they like spending time with me? I'm so honored." You said with an overdramatized fake fluster.

Ellie didn't even let you finish your sentence before she cut in with her usual sarcastic tone. "Pfff, don't get so ahead of yourself there." She chided. Even then, you could hear some slight annoyance in her voice.

Ellie may have been a jerk, but there was something about her you couldn't help but like. You couldn't explain it, but you liked this banter between the two of you.

Oh, who were you trying to lie to? You liked her. You were just good at hiding it.

You were just about to open your mouth to respond to Ellie's last snarky remark, when you were cut off again.

"Enough."

You both turned to see the teacher staring at the two of you. He sounded more annoyed than before, and you decided it was better to stop your feud before you got in any more trouble.

"You two are already going to spend a month together doing odd jobs. The last thing we need is for you to add another week to that sentence." He warned.

You wanted to say something back, but you decided to shut up before the teacher had to make it worse. You and Ellie just looked at each other for a couple of seconds, before you rolled your eyes and got up from your seat.

After a few more classes, the time of  fulfilling your penalty came. You sat down at the gym benches, waiting for Ellie. You waited, and waited, but no one came.

Ellie was faster than you with getting up. She smirked and said; "Well it's not like you actually had anything worth saying anyway, so it's easier for you." With that parting jab, she walked out of the gym.

You expected something like that from her, so you stood up and a few minutes later you were standing in front of her room. You knocked to the door, patiently waiting for her to answer.

After a few moments, you heard footsteps, before the door finally opened. Ellie stood in front of you, her face as annoyed as ever.

"What do you want?" she grumbled, clearly not in the mood to be bothered right now.

"Uh, hello? We're supposed to be doing the clean-up, remember? You haven't forgotten, right?" You said, trying to stay as polite as you could.

She sighed and motioned for you to come in, clearly not ready to go just yet.

You slowly stepped into Ellie's room, your eyes taking in the decorations and mess. It was clear that this was Ellie's world, but you couldn't help but feel a slight curiosity towards her.

"So, why exactly weren't you at the gym?" You asked, finally breaking the tension. You didn't want her thinking you were here to start another argument.

"I had stuff to do." Was the terse response you were met with, nothing else.

"Yeah, of course." You rolled your eyes. "Your room could use some cleaning too."

Ellie smirked when your tone turned from polite to annoyed when she gave you her response, but you couldn't help but notice that she slightly recoiled when you mention how messy her room was. For someone with such a sharp tongue, she sure wasn't enjoying that same kind of treatment.

"Oh yeah? So maybe we should have you clean my room instead." She shot back.

"Actually, boarding school is still school, so that'd count too." You smirked, not so sarcastically anymore. You'd really rather stay in her room than running all over the building with a mop and dirty cloths.

Ellie raised one eyebrow at your reply, clearly not expecting you to just accept it without some kind of snarky remark or argument.

"Alright then." She replied simply, and she walked over to her bed and started to clear out the clutter. You couldn't really deny that her room was in a pretty messy state.

You explored the room, looking for something to start with.

Just then, near other scattered clothes, you saw feminine underwear. Clearly not hers.

"Um, Ellie..." You laughed. "Who's this?"

She walked up to you, not seeming surprised or embarrased at all. "I dunno. There's lots of girls visiting." She smirked.

You knew the smart thing to do would be just to drop the topic, but your curiosity got the best of you. Just who was Ellie Williams hanging out with?

"Really? And how many of them leave a pair of underwear in your room as a souvenir?" You asked, trying to keep a straight face, but you couldn't help but be amused by the situation.

Ellie just laughed, and you couldn't help but grin at her confidence in that moment.

"If you're asking if I'm dating someone," Ellie said, looking at you with an amused expression, "then no. I wouldn't call it dating."

You knew Ellie was always too stubborn and proud to just admit it normally, so you decided to push her just a little bit further.

"So it's not just a single person then? What's it? A new girl every day?" you asked with a smirk, knowing you'd hit a nerve there.

The slight flicker of annoyance on Ellie's face told you that you'd hit the mark.

"So what if it is? Are you jealous?" She teased in response, just adding fuel to the fire.

Now, she had the smirk on her face, and you just knew you'll regret what you started.

"Not really. Everyone knows you fuck every girl in the school anyways. Well, almost every." You suggestively pointed at yourself. "That's honestly sad. You should focus on one person, don't you think?"

Ellie took this as a challenge, she just couldn't resist it when you made yourself the exception.

"Oh, you think you're a special case? How cute." She snickered, and you couldn't help but feel somewhat pleased with that response after how much you two had been annoying each other for the past month.

"What do you think, should I consider dating you? It seems like you're interested, isn't that why you keep sticking around?" She asked, looking at you, knowing very well what kind of effect her words were gonna have on you.

"Me? Interested? You're the one finding excuses to talk to me every day, even if it's just another argument!" You shook your head and looked down, trying to hide that your smirk turns into a honest smile.

You felt Ellie's eyes studying your face as you tried to hide your genuine happiness, you tried to play it off, but you knew that it wasn't working in your favor. You couldn't even deny it, because it was true, you were interested in Ellie. Maybe not at first, but after spending time together, you grew to like her, her arrogance, her wit, the snarky smile on her face... and her eyes.

"Oh, so you do care!" She quickly cut in, sensing your weakness as your smile grew.

"Come on, don't tell me you've been enjoying this little game of ours, haven't you? Don't you look forward to it every day? Don't you love the adrenaline that kicks in when you're about to say something that's bound to start an argument?" She asked, taking a step closer to you and lowering her voice.

You could almost see the sparks fly as the two of you stared at each other, both feeling the tension in the air. You were almost tempted to take her up on the offer, but your pride got the best of you.

"You're just full of yourself, aren't you? Thinking everybody craves that attention." You said after taking a deep breath.

Ellie just smiled and walked straight to you, getting up close and personal.

"Well, I know you want it. So stop putting up a facade and admit it."

"I'm not like these sluts you fuck, Williams." You said, trying to keep your voice steady and calm.

Ellie just smirked in response. "You're right, you're not like them. You're better than them. And maybe you are a little special, considering how much you manage to piss me off everyday." She took a step back and looked you up and down. "I kinda like it." She said, and you couldn't help but feel your heart rate go up a little when she said that.

You just stared back at Ellie, not really sure what else to say in this situation. Both of your egos were too big to give the other one satisfaction, and neither would be making the first move.

She finally spoke up; "Your turn to be honest now. Admit you're into me."

She was awfully close to you now, daring you to say something.

"Don't push it, Ellie." You told her confidently, and even though you really wanted to say it, your pride was holding you back from admitting it.

Ellie just smirked and moved even closer to you, until her face was just an inch away from yours. "Say it." She whispered.

You felt your heart pounding faster as you just looked at her, not able to break her stare.

You shook your head. "No way."

She just chuckled at your response. "I knew you'd say that. And now, I'm gonna make you say it yourself."

Before you could even comprehend what was happening, Ellie pulled you close, just enough to make your lips meet. You just stood there, completely stunned by how bold she was, but at the same time, the feeling of her lips against yours was so new and so good as well. You hadn't felt this type of rush before, and you didn't want it to end.

You couldn't stop yourself from letting out a gasp followed by a moan into the kiss, which made her even bolder.

"I'll show you how lucky those so-called by you sluts are." She whispered after pulling away from you, but not for long.

While Ellie's mouth aggresively covered yours, you felt her slowly pushing you towards the bed.

You were barely able to think now, as your adrenaline was pumping through your whole body. Your back hit the mattress, and Ellie continued to push you down as she climbed up onto the bed on top of you.

That's when it hit you.

You realized that your little feud with Ellie wasn't going to end after all, except this time you weren't fighting her.

Instead, you were just enjoying the moment with someone you could almost call a friend.

It felt like there was nothing else in the universe, just a rush of new sensations that you didn't want to end.

Ellie was the one in control now, as you felt her body pressing up against you, her lips pressing against yours, her hands moving around your body without hesitation. You weren't even thinking straight anymore, you just let her embrace you, letting her take control entirely.

You felt her break the kiss for a moment, just to whisper something in your ear. "Say it."

You knew what she wanted you to say, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do so.

Before you could answer, you felt her slowly undressing you. Her lips were tracing paths along your throat, not letting you let out a logical word from it - only little whimpers.

You felt every curve of her body as you felt her lips against your neck, every touch sending chills down your spine.

When you felt her hands move towards your pants, you felt your body respond in the only way you could.

You couldn't think of anything else but her embrace, her warm breath against your neck, and your body slowly being freed from clothing.

Ellie knew exactly how to push your buttons.

Before you could catch your breath, you were left shaking, as her hand slipped into your underwear, which was soon on the floor too. She was teasing your clit in almost painful slow way, watching you squirm.

"Speak up, babe." She whispered mockingly.

But you couldn't. Not because you didn't want, or because your ego didn't let you - you just couldn't. You even asked yourself 'What does this girl wants from me?' as you already forgotten her previous wish. You just weren't thinking straight.

"Come on, do this for me." She kept looking at you with overdramatic concern. You saw her fastening her belt and sliding of her jeans, revealing an obviously-way-too-big strap, which purple color didn't surprise you at all as you imagined it the same way in your dreams.

When you finally came back to your senses, you constructed a whole full sentence answer. But as soon as she saw you opening your mouth to speak up, she slid a few inches of her toy into your soaking cunt. Your planned reply quickly got replaced with another gasp.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" She smirked, her hips started thrusting. She had some sympathy for you, so she didn't make it too painful, but she wasn't also so merciful.

You cried out, at first clenching your thighs from surprise, but she was too strong for you to actually succeed.

You leaned your head back against the pillow, squeezing your eyes shut causing a few of your pathetic tears soak into the sheets.

She held your hips, so she won't miss your sensitive spot, but her grip was so hard you swore you can already see the bruises creating right beneath her fingers.

"Honestly, I'm really happy it ended like that. You have no idea how often I'd imagine you instead of some random girl. But it's good to have you really there." She chuckled, not slowing down but not speeding up either.

Your eyes opened wide at this confession. Before today, the nicest thing she said to you was 'what's wrong?', even though it was in an obviously mocking way. And know it turns out she liked you for a long time. Just like you liked her.

"W...Wh- What?" You managed to stutter out, leaning on your elbows to look at her before your vision turned blurry again so you fell back on the pillow.

"You didn't know?" She laughed. "I mean, you were always oblivious, so I shouldn't be shocked but... I thought it was clear." She was speaking slower than usual as every single word coming from her mouth was synced with the moves of her hips. While saying this simple thing, she pushed her strap into you at least twenty times. And she wasn't taking her time, oh, no. She was fast and rough, like you're just a sex toy without feelings. Did you mind? Hmmm...

When you started getting used to the size of her cock and your mind wasn't completely blank anymore, you remembered one important thing your PE teacher said. 'Someone will check in on you from time to time, so don't even think about anything.' None of you were either at the gym or putting up flyers around school. They're going to think you ditched it. Even though you'd rather get into more trouble than end whatever you were doing now, you felt you need to tell Ellie, just in case.

"El-s..." You moaned out and quickly realised it won't be easy.

"What is it?" She asked, seeming honestly interested in what you got to say. "Ready to admit you're absolutely obsessed with me?"

You clenched your fists, squeezing the bed sheets between your fingers.

"Th- no... We should..." You couldn't help but cry out again.

As soon as she heard the two keywords - 'we should' (and she hated when someone was telling her what to do, so that pissed her off) - she understood what you're trying to say.

"Behave? Fulfill our duties? Or...?" She chuckled.

You wanted to speak up, just to not feel so vulnerable as you really were. You only managed to mumble 'we' before one of her hands started rubbing your clit, just like at the start - painfully slow. The feeling made your thighs tense and move closer to each other, wanting to close the gap between them. But Ellie didn't let that happen as she quickly separated your legs.

Her hips also didn't stop moving, and all the sensations connected made you go silent again. Well, not silent - unable to speak. And that were two completely different things.

"I'd take that as a 'we should continue what we're doing right now'. Isn't that what you want?" Even though you're eyes were closed, you could feel her intense stare on you. Then, her mocking tone came back. "What is it with you being so quiet all of sudden? You spent a few of the past years yelling at me, and you can't even say a word now?"

"I ju-st..." You said but then she hit your g spot again, and again, and again... making you go silent.

Your stomach started feeling funny - probably because of how deep in it Ellie's strap was. At this point, you thought you can even feel it in your throat and that's what's blocking your words from coming out. But the funny feeling had a different origin - your release was getting awfully close, and it didn't go unnoticed.

"We're going to have lots of fun this month." She whispered, leaning in to stroke your cheek.

[generalsmemories]

hello jing yuan's wife!! congrats on 1k followers! you very much deserved it 😊 may i please request for jing yuan with angst scenario #5? thank you in advance!

Stubbornness

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompt used: needing to go to an event after a party and having to pretend as if they aren’t angry with one another the entire time || 1k event

✧ contents: established relationship, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, arguments cause yeehaw, however happy ending cause they are functioning adults, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: the amount of times ya'll have called me jing yuan's wife at this point HAHAH. anyway! first drabble to kickstart the 1k event is a sort of angsty one because why not but ya'll remember that one book where the sanctus medicus had 5 operations to try and get rid of jing yuan? yeah have that back in mind. - also not beta-read but who is surprised at this point LMFAO

"... You could've died."

Jing Yuan snorts, adjusting the bracers on his forearms without even sparing you a glance, "But I'm here right now breathing, aren't I?" he quips back instead, almost sounding amused at your worry.

It infuriates you. It baffles you how little he truly cared about the situation and at the severity of it. The hair you had for once tried to style already messy by the amount of times you've ran a hand through it out of stress or frustration the past two hours.

You're so glad you made Yanqing leave earlier to assist where it was necessary.

"Do you honestly see this as a mere joke, Jing Yuan?" you sneer, arms crossed whilst leaning one side against the doorframe. He must already know what you're referring to, being that you had finally opened the report handed to you from today - a report telling that there was yet another attempt on his life.

Another attempt that he didn't want to tell you about.

"Quite the contrary," he says, turning around to finally face you. His smile is still present on his lips which only serves to make you more agitated, "Nothing happened as you can see, and I'm perfectly fine. As such I didn't see the need to tell you about it because nothing happened. I wasn't even at the Artisanship Commission like they thought-"

"Because you got delayed."

He sighs, crossing his arms as well and cocking his head to the side, "Dear, with the amount you're worrying about me it makes me believe you have no trust in my capabilities to protect myself. Am I right to assume that?" he questions, his smile fading a bit after he had asked.

"Where the hell did you even get that from- Can I not worry about my lovers safety even when I'm aware of his swordmanship?" you ask, clicking your tongue whilst running yet another hand through your strands.

"And I'm telling you that it is a needless worry-"

"You're fucking unbelievable," you scoff, turning around to head for the entrance of your home, Jing Yuan quirking an eyebrow at your retreating form, "Oh? You're not going to nag at me further?" he asks, his tone may be lighthearted, but even you can pick out the slight bite it has to it.

"Even looking at you right now makes me want to punch you. The fact that you can't even see where I'm coming from is unbelievable enough, so fine! I won't worry more about our dear general," you bite back, slamming the door shut once you're at the other side.

You can come up with an excuse as to why the two of you arrive separately - it wouldn't be the first time after all.

"You must be quite delighted that the expedition finished earlier than planned, right [Name]?" Master Gongshu asks, handing you a glass and immediately clinking his own against it before taking a sip, "Even the tiny lieutenant made more of a name to himself out there."

You snicker, swirling the contents of the drink before you, stealing a brief glance over at Jing Yuan who is surrounded himself, "Indeed, I'm quite relieved to see him and Yanqing safely return to the Luofu."

Even though there was immediately another attempt on his life the moment he stepped one foot back onboard.

"But say, aren't you a bit saddened that the general haven't been by your side as much today? He's practically surrounded by the other commissioners and knights," master Gongshu points out, to which you only shake your head, "Why of course not, as long as I know that my husband is safe - I wouldn't have to worry about anything," you say - a bit louder than needed.

You know Jing Yuan heard you.

He kept his attention solely on the people before him though, not even sparing you a glance.

The sight makes you let out another loud sigh, bringing the glass to your lips only to immediately drink it in one gulp, Master Gongshu snickering beside you while calling another waiter over, "Oho, I see you're rearing to go so early! This is indeed what a celebration feast is about!" Master Gonshu roars, his laughter having been a bit too loud to attract the attention of other people, who merely snickered at his own energy.

Jing Yuan only narrowed his eyes, eyebrows furrowing in displeasure at your comment. It seems like you still haven't cooled down. But as soon as he heard his name get called, he was all smiles again, "Aren't you worried that [Name] is going to drink too much, general?" a solider jokingly asked, raising his own glass to have a toast with the general. Jing Yuan merely let out a low chuckle, "Of course not, and even if they were to, I'm here to take care of them."

At this point, the master diviner had made herself to your side with a few snacks - just in time to see your expression twist for a split second upon hearing what Jing Yuan said, letting out a laugh yourself, "Oh, don't worry dear. I know how to take care of myself, so there's no need for you to needlessly worry like this!"

She can practically sense the animosity between you two that no one else in the room has apparently picked up on.

But Fu Xuan does admit that seeing Jing Yuan's perfectly crafted smile twitch a bit in annoyance while his eyebrows furrowed a tiny bit did bring her satisfaction - a taste of his own medicine.

So while master Gongshu have wandered off to get a refill, she makes her way over to you with a raised eyebrow, "Trouble in paradise?" she asks lowly, you merely huff in return - turning around to lean on the fence, staring at the various starskiffs in the air, "... No."

"I applaud you for still wanting to lie in front of me," Fu Xuan comments, placing the tray of various snacks beside you for your perusal - you don't grab anything, already lost in thought.

"Is it a needless worry?" you end up asking, Fu Xuan having leaned against the fence herself while having her body turned to face you, "About what? His safety? Yes and no."

"Gee, that helps a lot."

"He's a general, [Name]. An attempt on his life is unfortunately common sense, moreso at this time too being that he had just returned from an expedition and would be by some standards - exhausted and have his senses dulled."

"So why-"

"But it's also because he is a general that precautions are taken. Even if he got delayed or not before coming to the Artisanship Commission, the Cloud Knights stationed had already intercepted the attempt - he would've still been safe."

You bite your tongue to prevent yourself from blurting anything more. In hindsight you were perfectly aware that Jing Yuan would be fine - but you're pretty sure there's not a single lover out there who would not worry about their own husbands' safety if his head had once again been targeted - even if it had been yet another failed attempt.

Before you can admit your wrongdoings to Fu Xuan, you feel an arm slither around your waist - delicate lips pressing against your temple, and from the faint breath Jing Yuan lets out, you can tell he's had a few more to drink than you in the span of your conversation with Fu Xuan.

"... I thought you didn't like to drink that much," you say softly, turning around in his hold only to be met with a smile, "And I thought you weren't going to speak to me?" he whispers back. You merely huff and let his head fall down to your shoulder, sending Fu Xuan a pleading gaze to which she immediately gets without you needing to say anything more - walking over to the crowd of onlookers to step in for both you and Jing Yuan.

"I am still mad," you finally utter after a few minutes of silence between the two of you.

"Whatever can I do to make my beloved not mad at me then?" he asks back in a whisper, careful to not let anyone else hear the two of you. You can tell from your peripheral vision that he's turned his head to face you, although you keep your gaze facing forward.

"Admit you were wrong," you huff, Jing Yuan letting out a low chuckle at how you're still holding onto that stubborness, "I'm pretty sure I saw that you were about to admit that you were wrong to the master diviner, no?"

You don't answer, merely looking away in a silent defiance. The sight making Jing Yuan sigh in amusement, "Alright, I'm sorry dear. I'll make sure to tell you in the future whenever I feel something amiss," he says in the end - but before you can accept that apology, he quickly adds on.

"In return, I do hope you tell me whenever the disciples also target you."

.... Oh.

"... You know you could've made me inform you in any other way than having us argue?" you state, back to your moody self - the switch in mood making your husband laugh, "Not such a great feeling being left in the dark, is it?" he reminds you - and you hate how effective this sort of method is.

So your only reply is to wrap your arms around his waist, "I'm sorry," You can feel his body shake with laughter, his own arms wrapping around your shoulders before you feel his lips pressing themselves at the top of your head, "Now stop being mad, because these few hours were quite tortuous for me."

"You just say that because I usually do all the talking."

"Precisely."

struggled with that ending for 3 days man.

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Six - Splendid

♡♡♡

"Eloise Bridgerton."

Benedict calls his sister when he finds her smoking on the swing set in their garden. He sounded stern, as if scolding her.

Eloise groans softly as she turns on the swing. "Go on, then." She lifts the cigarette to her lips. "Chastise me."

"Spare one for me?" He asks.

Eloise is surprised by his question. He comes and sits on the other swing beside her. She holds a cigarette out to him, and he takes it, putting it between his lips and lighting it.

"Suppose I desire something different." Eloise says.

"How do you mean?"

"Just different. I watch Daphne prepare for these balls with all of those dresses and the many suitors, and I am exhausted. Suppose I want a different life, Benedict. That I truly believe I am quite capable of something more, even when I'm not allowed to have anything else."

"Then I would say... that you're not the only one." He looks at her. They smile at each other.

♡♡♡

With the next edition of Whistledown comes fascinating gossip. You find yourself, for once, clutching the paper with the need to read more.

It has become apparent that Lord Berbrooke has a child out of wedlock, and not only that, with a maid he had sent away before the child was even born. He pays nothing for the child, it seems.

Your mother had been gossiping about with the other ladies she had over for afternoon tea. In turn, their maids had gone off to gossip further.

Word spread like wildfire.

The next day, Lord Berbrooke had left town suddenly.

You made it a point to go visit Daphne. You were taken up to the drawing room where she awaited you, a smile on her face as you came in.

"It's nice of you to visit."

You take a seat with her. "I wanted to see how you were."

"I have expected you come see my brother," she admits.

"Benedict? As much as he has become my friend, I felt the need to come see you. Are you alright?"

"I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders." She smiles softly. "I am glad he is gone."

"As am I. Wretched man, he was."

You both giggle softly.

"So, the duke? He is still on your favour?" You ask.

Daphne goes silent for a moment, and then her face twitches. A realisation. The realisation she must still pretend.

"Ah, yes." She smiles.

You smile in return and take her hand. "You make a most handsome couple."

"Thank you." Her voice wavers.

You do not bring up Hastings or Berbrooke again as you have tea with Daphne. The conversation becomes pleasant. Daphne finds herself talking to you about anything that comes to mind. Not once has any of her siblings sat down and listened to her like this.

It felt nice. Really nice.

An hour passes, and you find the teapot has been emptied twice in that time. There are no more biscuits to share either. You rise from the soft sofa and gather you purse.

"Thank you for letting me visit."

"Oh, nonsense. You are always welcome." Daphne smiles.

"I shall visit again then."

Daphne looks pleased by your words.

"Benedict will be so disappointed you came by and didn't stop to see him."

You chuckle. "Let him suffer. It may humble him."

Daphne chuckles and sees you out.

♡♡♡

The next ball is as dazzling as the others. You swear with each one, Daphne gets more and more beautiful. She enters with the Duke. Of course, everyone sees.

You entered with your mother, no one paying you any mind what so ever. Not that you minded any more. You had come to terms that no one would visit you.

As Simon and Daphne dance, you decide to take a walk. You have no idea what it is they discuss when alone together.

You keep your eyes peeled for any familiar faces. Yet, no one else is present in this current room.

Meanwhile, Daphne parts from Simon and is approached by another gentleman. Her wish to find a husband and have a family may very well come true.

As you enter the next room, you find Anthony in there talking with some others. His gaze lands on you, and he excuses himself from the current conversation. He approaches you.

You smile and bow your head. "Lord Bridgerton."

"Anthony, please. You call my brothers by their name."

You smile. "Anthony."

"Benedict isn't here, I'm afraid. He has elected to sit this one out. May I have the honour?" He holds out his hand.

You take a moment to take in his request. Anthony was head of his family. A viscount. Dancing with him would surely bring you attention.

You place your hand in his. "You may."

Anthony takes you back into the other room and leads you to the dance floor. He holds you as a gentleman should while dancing with a lady. You both move with the music.

Anthony look very firm as he dances with you.

"I must say, this is an honour."

"Is it?" He asks.

"I never see you dance."

"No. I suppose not. I am not beyond dancing with friends." He says kindly.

"Then I am even more so honoured to be considered such."

You both continue dancing until the music ends. You curtsy, he bows. Anthony takes your hand and leads you back to the side of the room. With swift ease, he marks his name down on your dance card.

"I shall see to it you are never left without a dance partner, my lady," he says with a bow.

You smile.

As Anthony returns to the party, you find yourself now being looked at by others. There are gentlemen looking your way.

Could it be true that Daphne is not the only one who can shine?

Soon, you are dancing again, and a few more names are scribbled across your dance card.

You think, perhaps, Daphne Bridgerton is your good luck charm.

It makes you giddy.

Safe to say, your night was splendid indeed.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd -

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy -

[fantazygirl-blog1]

So tired of everyone (or almost everyone) making Misa into a kind, weak little victim, manipulated by Light.

That woman may seem sweet, but she's absolutely ruthless. She's selfish, obsessive, stalkerish and emotionally abusive (perhaps not in the traditional way but I will explain)

Way before she even met Light, she managed to kill law enforcement (which might I add, she probably didn't even know was law enforcement) and news reporters just to prove a point. They were just a means to an end to her. She wanted to thank Kira for killing her parent's murderer, but she didn't even stop to think once if the people she killed had families of their own, children of their own. She only had one goal: what she herself, wanted. More than that, Misa literally offered to immediately off her friend, that helped her with the tapes (and if someone offers to help you with that, they're a very close friend for sure) and it wasn't even Light's suggestion. It was all Misa, who saw killing her friend as a way to get Light to trust her. It's clear that girl is willing to kill anyone and anything if it'll help her achieve her goals.

Also, she's super obsessive. My girl traded half her lifespan with no hesitation on the off chance that she might be able to meet Kira. (Yes, she had a plan but there was no guarantee that her plan would even work)And the instant she saw Light, she started stalking him (even though she herself had problems with stalkers) to the point that she just turned up at his house with no warning. Imagine if a stranger just shows up at your house like that, pretending to be a friend and your mom lets them in. That's fucking horrifying.

Also, Misa barely knew Light for like a few seconds and she decided that he was going to be her boyfriend, and NOTHING was going to stay in her way, not even Light himself. She pressured him into being in a relationship with her, even though it was clearly unwanted, Rem literally threatened to kill him if he refused, and then she had the gall to tell Light she would kill any girl she suspected would go out with Light if she saw her with him. This is where the emotional abuse comes from (even though I dunno if I should call it that but I don't know how else to classify it). Misa doesn't really consider Light a person. For her, Light is more like a doll she can project her feelings on. She attributed him emotions according to her whims and acted like those were the reality regardless of Light's real feelings. She made herself the main character in his story, even after told and shown repeatedly tha she wasn't and got mad when years later she was still neglected and barely paid attention to.

I'm not saying all this to hate on Misa and this in no way a Kira appreciation post (my favorite Light is Yotsuba arc Light, I hate Kira tbh) but I'm just saying, if you're a Misa fan you should be able to accept the reality: she's not a weak, sweet little girl, manipulated by evil Light. She's capable of all the horrible things she does all on her own thank you very much and I'm tired of reading fics where Misa is treated like only a victim and given leniency while Light is treated as the only true monster.

I'm just saying, the girl didn't need a boyfriend, she needed a therapist. Badly.

[wolfiesmoon]

Genshin guys as dads 🤭

in honour of finally getting off my ass and finishing mondstat, i bring you genshin men as dads <3 i decided to challenge myself and write for characters i haven't written for at all yet

the reader is gender neutral (u can interpret that the kid was adopted or u can interpret that the kid is biologically yours)

Yk the more i read these guys' lines to get a better idea of their characters the more i think they need a therapy session stat

Characters featured: Diluc, Alhaitham, Childe, Ayato

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Diluc Ragnvindr

"Diluc! Diluc, are you in here?" you knocked before opening the door to his office, assuming he's probably there. You were finally returning to the winery late in the evening and wanted to see how your daughter and husband were doing.

Tonight, they should both be at the winery.

But to your surprise, the office was completely empty. You haven't heard a single peep from your daughter yet, either. Usually she'd be running around and yelling, even if she wasn't with Diluc.

You went upstairs to check your bedroom and were met with a most adorable sight when you opened the door. Your daughter was very peacefully asleep, drool and all, on Diluc's chest. Diluc did not seem very pleased with this arrangement, however.

"Welcome home." he sighed upon seeing you walk to the side of the bed.

"Looks like someone's on pillow duty." you teased him, petting your daughter's head.

"Don't make fun of me. She's been running around all day with seemingly no end to it. Sometimes I'm surprised at what her tiny legs are capable of." he leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling.

"She said she's not tired at all. But she fell asleep almost instantly when she sat on top of me to, umm... bother me." to anyone else, Diluc would seem like he hates this kid with how much he says she bothers or annoys him, but you know that isn't the case.

Whenever she runs up to him to show him something she did, he pats her little head lovingly. He keeps the drawing she made of him in his office, even if he is a bit concerned at how grumpy he looks in her artistic interpretation.

"I wasn't making fun of you... Okay, maybe a little bit." you leaned down, cupping Diluc's face and kissing his cheek. He hummed in dissaproval, but his cheeks turned pink anyways.

"Would you mind joining me? If I can't... I want to know that you're safe, atleast." his eyebrows were creased in worry. You don't know what for, exactly, but you gladly joined him on the bed, hugging him too.

"Is your aim to suffocate me further?" the combined weight of about a quarter of your body and his daughter was not the most freeing in the world.

"No, I just happen to understand the appeal of sleeping on top of you." and you really do. It's always so warm and homey.

"You've worked hard today, dad." you moved some stray hairs out of his face. His tired eyes met yours for a moment before they slipped shut. Hehehe, you need to take a photo of this.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Alhaitham

(let's pretend you live together with him now instead of kaveh haha)

"Dad doesn't love me!" the sudden accusation had you turning your head fast, wanting to know what was going on. "What did he do, sweetie?" the little pout on her pudgy face was adorable.

She ran up to you and hugged your leg. "You still love me, right?" she seemed very worried about your reply. It seems like she isn't in the mood to give a proper answer to your question, though.

"Of course I do. You're very very very special to me." You pat her head gently. She seemed satisfied with your reply, giggling happily at you before running off to play.

.

When Alhaitham returned home that day, he attempted to interact with his daughter, as he tries to every day, but he was utterly ignored.

He looked to you, hoping you'd know the reason, but you just shrugged. "She says you don't love her anymore."

"Hm..." was his only reply.

"That's because he doesn't! I told him 'I love you' yesterday but he didn't say it back!" Your daughter crossed her little arms, scowling at her dad before turning around so she didn't have to look at him.

"So it was that." Alhaitham seemed like he understood the situation properly now. And you realised what happened too, because it happens to you occasionally.

"Sweetie, listen. Your dad likes to wear these thingies in his ears. And when he wears them, he can't hear a thing." You explained in the most child friendly way you could.

"Not even an explosion?" Your daughter finally turned back to look at you and Alhaitham, though her eyes were fixated firmly on you.

"Nope. Nothing at all. When he didn't say 'I love you too' yesterday, it was because he was wearing them and couldn't hear." Your daughter turned her head back with an annoyed 'hmph', but you knew she was listening to you.

"So I propose a hug attack. Whenever you see him wearing them." You smiled evilly, glancing at Alhaitham who shot you a dissaproving glare in return.

"Leave me alone." Your daughter huffed, stomping off down the hallway. Oh well, kids don't always think critically, do they? You have a feeling she's already forgiven him a little, though.

"Children make no sense to me." He admits, and you finally greet him properly with a little welcome home peck.

"That's the fun in it, though." You smiled at him and to your surprise, he smiled right back. As awkward as he can get with the kid, he loves her a whole lot.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Childe

"Mhhhh... what is it?" he mumbled in annoyance when he felt his hand getting shook. His voice sounded quite raspy now.

"Dad... Dad..." turns out it was your son who was pulling on Childe's arm. He looked like he was about to burst into tears any second, now.

As soon as he saw the distress on his son's dimly lit face, his attitude changed and he was overcome with the sudden urge to take revenge on something or someone. Maybe it's the dad instinct.

"I had a nightmare.... I'm scared..." your son sobbed.

By this point, even you woke up, but your body was still mostly asleep, so you were just listening in.

"Come up here." Childe tapped the bed and your son awkwardly climbed up into his arms.

"Was it a scary monster?" Childe asked in an exaggerated scary voice. Your son nodded, gripping onto the front of Childe's shirt.

"In that case... you don't have to worry at all. I always love a challenge." you could practically see the smile on Childe's face. You turn over, opening your eyes slightly. You have to admit, the sight in front of you is adorable.

"What do you mean, dad?" your son sniffled, rubbing the snot away with his tiny hand.

"I'll fight the monster, of course. Oh, how wonderful it would be to see the b-" he winced a little bit when he felt the light slap on his face.

"Ajax, you'll scare him even more." you warned, your own voice raspy. You moved your other hand to ruffle your son's hair to comfort him.

"Ow, clearly, someone doesn't appreciate me enough." Childe rolled his eyes playfully.

Without warning, you lean forward and peck him on the lips. "There. Now I've evened out the slap."

"Just one peck? Well, I suppose we can't do much more right now... Hehe." Childe turned his attention back on your son, stroking his back gently to calm him down.

"Why do you have that look on your face?" you noticed he was smiling strangely.

"What look?" your accusations have been denied. But he sure does have a plan for you later.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Kamisato Ayato

"DAD! Look at where I am!" Your son shouted from somewhere in the tree that was stood in the beautifully maintained garden.

Being the little rebel he is, he climbed the tree despite you telling him multiple times not to.

"Please get down from there. It's unsafe." Ayato tried to reason with him calmly upon noticing him in the treetops.

"Nah, it's so cool up here! I can see the whole estate!" Sometimes, your son's stubborn nature made it hard for him to get along with Ayato. This is one of those cases.

"This is not a joking matter. You could get seriously hurt." Ayato doesn't think he could properly live with himself for a bit if his kid got hurt when he could have prevented it.

"What's going on here?" You joined in, happening to pass by the garden.

"He won't come down. I'm... worried about him." He admits, crossing his arms. Though you do sense a bit of annoyance behind his voice, too.

"Come down. I told you not to climb that tree so many times." You crossed your arms firmly. Your son looked at Ayato's face, then yours and sighed, beginning to descend from the tree. He'd rather avoid a scolding. But his little foot slipped and he suddenly tumbled to the ground.

"Son!" Both of you immediately ran to his side as he started wailing. "Call for healers. Immediately." He seemed fine, looking at him initially, but he might have a broken leg or something.

Both of you stayed by his side the whole time, offering him words of comfort (and a bit of a scolding). It seems like something like this happens almost every week, now. The Kamisato household has certainly gotten livelier ever since getting blessed with your son.

.

"Well, that was certainly an afternoon." You huffed, sitting down behind the table across Ayato.

"I wish he wasn't so reckless and disobedient, sometimes." Ayato held his cheek in worry. He let his son get hurt, again.

"He got that mischief from you." You smiled innocently, sipping your tea.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" He smiled innocently back.

"I miss days of solitude. We only have moments now. I suppose my life hasn't been a calm one for a long while now, though." He sips his own tea, looking outside at the sunset. Working as hard as he does every day is taxing on the soul.

"Guess we gotta make the most of it." You stood up, sitting back down next to him and playfully pecking his cheek.

"Oh, I see what you mean." He returned the mischevious smile you know and love. Just as he grabbed your waist, though...

"LOOK WHAT I HAVE!" Your son burst into the room, holding a sword. His sword.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?!"

[femsolid]

I don’t know if you’ve already answered this, but I saw your reading count post recently. Can you share what books you’ve read and which you recommend? Whether radical feminism related or not.

With pleasure!

These are some of the books I've read this year. All books written by women. From best to worse.

5/5 books

I Who Have Never Known Men is a mysterious story about a girl who's been locked up underground her entire life and doesn't know why. She's caged with other women, and they're all guarded by men who refuse to speak, for years. It's the story of their escape, leading to even more questions. I often found myself wondering what I would do if I were in their shoes. Dark. Very intriguing. Well written.

Hung Jury is the diary of a female juror on one of the most famous American murder case. When it came to the verdict, the jury ended up divided by sex, because the male jurors were sexist and homophobic, resulting in a mistrial and the public's fury. It was interesting to learn how the justice system works from the inside, especially how it is to be a jury. The writing is light-hearted despite the subject, which emphasize the fact that juries are just... people.

Woman At Point Zero is the true story of a woman sentenced to death for killing a man, as reported by the journalist she confided in. As you read it, you realize that you don't know which man she's going to kill, because her entire life has been mapped out by misogyny and betrayal. She concluded that men can't be trusted.

One Child is the true story of an elementary school teacher who welcomes a six years old girl, who was trialed for attempted murder, in her class. The girl is smart, capable of extreme violence and also very scared of adults. It's a very moving book, not for the faint-hearted, that promotes the not so popular idea... that children are people, too.

French books: Far-Ouest and Une Belle Vie. Highly recommend them to my french readers!

4/5 books

The Left Hand of Darkness is a sci-fi book about a man joining a planet where people are all hermaphrodites. As an intruder from outer-space, he doesn't fit in with their political intrigues and ends up in deadly trouble. It's probably the book that was most recommended to me when I asked for book suggestions on my blog. Clearly a popular one. I liked it a lot, read it in one day, but I was left wanting for some romance because it would have been interesting with the hermaphroditism.

Not So Quiet... is the story of a woman working as an ambulance driver during the first world war. It tells her everyday life; picking up dying soldiers, avoiding bombs and accidents as she drives in the dark, being mistreated by her captain, cleaning blood and vomit, petty fights between her coworkers, not being able to wash, the propaganda at home pretending they're having a great time serving their country, her new perception of war as wasteful patriarchal nonsense etc. It was good, the only thing I didn't like was the bullying between women which wasn't really addressed as such.

French book: "Défaire le discours sexiste dans les médias" a feminist book about sexist propaganda in media.

3/5 books

I'm Glad my Mom Died is the autobiography of child actress Jennette McCurdy. It was interesting to learn how children are used in the entertainment industry. I'd always been curious about how it works and what kind of parent lets their kid play roles such as "child beaten to death", "raped child", or "crying child in a concentration camp"... well, they're narcissistic and abusive, is the answer. However, I got bored after a while and actually had a hard time finishing it. Maybe it was a bit repetitive.

The Haunting of Hill House is a book about a group of people hired to stay several nights at a supposed haunted house to uncover evidence of a supernatural presence. It's really more a character study than a horror book. It's not the house that's interesting, it's the main character. However, the book probably suffers from the numerous haunted house movies and shows that have come out since it was written. Nowadays, it feels pretty bland.

I read tome 1 and 2 of the horror manga Adabana (one more to go) and I have mixed feelings about it. It's about a girl who is arrested after confessing to the gruesome murder of another girl. Tome 1 gives us the point of view of the killer and tome 2 the point of view of the victim. Except, the story changes depending on who's telling it, which leads us to discover who lied and what really happened as it progresses. The drawings are gorgeous, I love the style, and the manga is in a bigger format than usual, it's the size of a real book, very pretty. But there are some really graphic scenes of abuse, including sexual abuse, as the story focuses on how men treat girls and make pornography out of it. It felt very gratuitous at times, too long, too vulgar, I was uncomfortable. The author also seems to be holding our hand a little too much while telling the story. Some things don't need to be spelled out. But I'm intrigued enough to keep reading, so we'll see.

The Housemaid is about a homeless woman desperate for a job who agrees to start working and live at a rich family's house. Only, the housewife is unstable, to say the least, and tries to make her life a living hell. The daughter and the gardener are also strange and not very welcoming. The only normal person is the husband. oR iS hE? I'm giving it a 3/5 because I read it really fast, which means it did the job of entertaining me. But boy was it poorly written! Was it stupid at times! I got so tired of hearing the author fantasize about male protagonists' biceps strong enough to carry heavy boxes and shit. I sent pictures of the most ridiculous lines to my sister all throughout my reading, which made her laugh a lot, eventually she said: "I don't understand, everyone's talking about this book, how can it be this bad?" I think the author publishes one book a year, maybe even several, which explains a lot.

2/5 books

The Vegetarian is a horror book about a mentally ill woman who becomes a vegetarian from one day to the next; her entire personality changes, she becomes withdrawn and no one around her understands what's really going on. The first part of the book is from the point of view of her repulsive boyfriend who is annoyed by her, the second part from her repulsive brother-in-law who just wants to have sex with her, and the third part from her sister, who doesn't understand her. So, as you can imagine, it makes for a compelling read... The book feels like it was written by a man, which is probably why it got so famous and got a Nobel Prize. Every five seconds, you'll hear about the woman's nipples being visible under her shirt. In fact, the female character is relentlessly objectified throughout the book. There's also a really disturbing and graphic depiction of the family dog being tortured, killed and eaten (the book is set in Korea where it's legal to eat dogs) that serves no purpose other than to shock the reader. I'm sure I'll be told that it's deeper than that, that it's a book critical of boring middle class life and principles, or misogyny even, but it just felt like being subjected to the male gaze, and that's not what I want when I read from women. It's a shame because she's a good writer.

1/5

Her Body and Other Parties is a book compiling short stories which are advertised as feminist. They're not. The first story is about a woman who meets a man and has lots of sex with him, described in great details, over and over and over again. There's a ribbon around her neck that he's not allowed to touch. I suppose it represents consent or something. Then she marries him, more descriptions of sucking his penis or walking with his sperm dripping down her leg under her dress at their wedding. She gives birth, the "husband's stitch" happens (title of the story), never talked about ever again, they have a son, she doesn't know about the stitch, her sex life is seemingly not affected, more descriptions of sex, the husband is still curious about the ribbon on her neck, she finally lets him take it off, her head falls off, the end. I guess it was about trust. The second story is a woman describing every sexual partner she's had, male or female, threesomes, whatever, more of the same, for pages. Didn't finish it. The third story isn't a story; the author wrote a fanfic of Law & Order. I'm not joking. She wrote made up synopsis for 272 (272!!!!) Law & Order episodes and published it. It's not "like" Law & Order. It's the actual show with its characters but with made up synopsis for each of the 272 episodes. That's a big chunk of the book... that I didn't read. I decided to give her one last chance and read the story about a woman who wants to get surgery to make her stomach smaller. It was okay, I suppose, but by that point I was still annoyed by the Law & Order bit and decided to stop reading the book anyway.

That's all I can remember right now.

Currently reading: "Le coût de la virilité" (the cost of virility) a french book that examines with great precision how much money we would save if men behaved like women instead of sociopaths.

[irishmammonagenda]

How I Think The Obey Me Boys Would React to The Rumours™️

Summary: Rumours have been floating around the Devildom. Rumours about a certain Angel and Sorcerer...how will the demon brothers react? Word Count: haha great question Content Warnings: probably just swearing tbh Disclamer: This will probably not make a lot of sense unless you've read this fic here for context, but ykw life doesnt make sense you do you <3

[dateables & co version]

post dividers by @cafekitsune their post dividers r really cool check them out! (also sorry for the tag!!)

You had left the Sorcerers' Society feeling quite flustered, but also extremely pleased with yourself. Take that Solomon. You grin. In all the excitement of the following days, you'd forgotten about the rumour you had accidentally spread around the Devildom. Perhaps you shouldn't've pretended to be Archangel Michael to gain entry....

💙💙LUCIFER💙💙

When Lucifer heard the news from Beel, he was in the student council room, he turnt his D.D.D off and just placed his head in his hands.

Was this some elaborate scheme by Solomon to gain a pact with him?

Lucifer wasn't sure he even wanted to know.

Sighing; he pulled on his coat and traversed to Purgatory Hall where Michael was staying.

"Michael." The Avatar of Pride stood leaning against the kitchen counter, everyone else in Purgatory Hall was at RAD, so the Angel and Demon were alone. "Oh Jesus Christ!" The Angel in question brings a hand to his heart in mock dramatics, "Warn a guy next time Lucikins!" "..." The Silence was palpable. "...Lucikins?" Lucifer gritted out, his eye twitching. "Michael. This is not the time for your games. I am the Avatar of Pride and a Prince of Hell, show me some respect." Michael merely raised an arched eyebrow, a shit-eating grin on his face as he quickly closed the distance between them, pulling the Avatar of Pride into an ironclad headlock, bringing his other arm over with a clenched fist and messing up Lucifer's hair. "I'm sure you are Lucikins, but you're still my adorable little brother." Lucifer pushes his hands out in an attempt to get away, but even he had to admit, Michael had always been stronger than him. "Michael." The younger protests, "I swear to Lord Diavolo if you do not let me go, I will-" Michael interrupts him, pausing his brotherly tormenting to wipe a tear from his ruby red eyes. "-Ahh! You must've missed me so much, poor Wittle Wucifer! Always so heavy on the teenage angst!" Lucifer growled in a way too similar to Satan when he first fell. Like father, like son. "I don't have teenage angst. Now unhand me you bastard!" "Oh please! The amount of times I caught you in the Celestial Realm listening to My Chemical Romance and Panic at the Disco on repeat speaks for itself! And the eyeliner! Just because the others were too young to remember doesn't mean I was baby brother! Don't think I don't remember the wolf-cut!" Lucifer's eye twitches so hard he worries for his socket. He cab't even refute it. "You are two minutes older than me! And besides! I came here to talk about the rumours of you dating Solomon!" "The What." Michael immediately ceases all noogie-ing, his grip loose enough for Lucifer to slip through his arm. He scowls, smoothing the wrinkles from his suit and beginning to fix his hair. He moves a safe distance away from his older (estranged) brother. "The rumours of you showing up during a Sorcerers' Society meeting and making out with Solomon on his lap. Ring a bell?" Michael, for the love of him, just looks confused. "But I've never even-" He blinks slowly a few times. "I am going to kill MC." Lucifer, even with the ego bruising he had just endured, laughs, partly out of sheer relief, he doesn't want to imagine what a Solomon Michael duo could be capable of. But of course it was you. It always was.

💛💛MAMMON💛💛

HUH???!!!

This poor man's confusion is so strong.

He doesn't want to think about Michael's lovelife. Or Solomon's for that matter.

He immediately rushes to tell you.

"Oi! MC!" Mammon shoves his way into your room like he was auditioning for the walking dead, as per usual, he wasn't aware of the marvellous invention of knocking yet. You quickly closed you laptop lid, and placed the device down beside you on the bed, lest he saw the Archangel Michael/King Solomon 100k, Slowburn, Angst with a Happy Ending you were writing on HellO3. “Hi Mams!” Mammon scurries onto your bed like the floor is lava, resting his chin on your thigh and looking up at you with his usual puppy eyes. “Yer not gonna believe this MC.” He says seriously. "What's up?" You tilt your head, bringing a one of your hands to ruffle your First Man's hair, he leans into the touch happily before jumping up and acting like he wasn't. "Well, 'pparently Michael's after starting te date Solomon. Can ye believe it?" Mammon makes a face. "Michael...wi' Solomon...I don' wanna believe it...just...its mingin'..." You laugh nervously, "I don't think Michael's dating Solomon, Mams....someone must've uhh..." You hold in a laugh. "It's probably just a succubi or someone looking for chaos." Mammon nods seriously, laying his head back on your lap. "Yer prolly righ' MC." You pet his hair again, "Wanna watch a movie or something, Mams?" "Pffft- Of course ya would wanna watch a movie wi' the Great Mammon...alrigh' huma-...Angel...I'll allow it...!" He says with his usual bravado, it was almost convincing, if he hadn't nuzzled further into your hand, and he wasn't looking at you like you were the one reason his pulse was still going.

🧡🧡LEVIATHAN🧡🧡

He finds out after the first chapter to a certain Archangel Michael/King Solomon fanfic was published. Yes he is subscribed to your HellO3 account, and yes! he has emails turnt on.

What kind of person would he be if he didn't read his Henry's fanfics?!

He throws his phone across the room.

When he finally wills himself to get up and retrieve it, he takes a screenshot and starts texting you frantically.

You're lazing about on your bed dong nothing, you'd just posted the first chapter of THE FORBIDDEN FRUITS: A GAY ROMANCE STORY THAT TRANSCENDS REALMS five minutes previous when your DDD began vibrating at such a speed you almost made a very unfunny sex joke. You pick up your DDD and sure enough, its Levi, heh; so he is subscribed to your HellO3 account! Leviachan <3: MC WHAT IS THIS NDVNRO DID YOU WRIT E FNAFICTION AOBOUT MCIAHEL AND SOLOMOMN You grinned. You: Fnaf fiction? Good idea for an AU! Leviachan <3: VFIBNODNORNGVNO MC IM LOOKING ON FORUMS WDYM THERES A RUMOU R ABORUT SOLOMON AND MICHAEL DATING You: In my defense, it was Solomon's fault. There's no response for 10 minutes, until your DDD pings again. Leviachan <3: Why is the fanfic good Leviachan <3: I MEAN OFC ITD BE GOOD, YOU WROTE IT BUT Leviachan <3: ITS SO Leviachan <3: THE CHARACTERS ARE SO COMPELLING AND THE PLOT IS SO GOOD RJRGNVDON Leviachan <3: AND THE TENSION??!! You grinned, you could always count on your Lord of Shadows to hype up your degenerate fanfics. You: thanks <3 satan's helping me write it, wanna help? Leviachan <3: I don't think I could write as good as you guys, im just a stinky smelly worthless otaku :( You: nuhuh. >:( Leviachan <3: But if you wanted... I could maybe beta-read??? You: OFC YOU CAN LEVI TANK YOU <33333 Leviachan <3: Haha tank LMAO ROFL You: I can never mispell anything around anyone in this house You kicked your feet like a catholic school girl holding hands with a boy for the first time in her life, knowing Levi probably was too.

💚💚SATAN💚💚

This man has a web of connections.

He found out almost as soon as the rumour started.

Like Mammon, he immediately finds you to tell you

Unlike Mammon, he actually knocks

granted he knocks for a second before just opening your door so he could've just not knocked and it would've had the same affect.

"Hello MC" "Mornin' Satie...What time's it?" You rub your eyes tiredly, having just woken up from a nap, you sit up and blink at him slowly with sleepy eyes. Satan can't stop himself from cooing, he movies towards your bed and ruffles your hair like you're a cat, you lean into the touch. "Sorry for waking you, dear..." You yawn. "You're fine Satie...what'd you need?" "Have you heard the rumours that Michael and Solomon are secret lovers-" Suddenly you're wide awake. "Oh no. Oh no no no." Satan raises a brow, "What's wrong, MC?" You grin sheepishly, "I maybe might've accidentally not on purpose started that rumour?..." Satan laughs in your face. Handsome bastard. "It's not funny!" "It is a little funny..." You gasp, eyes lighting up mischievously, "We should write a fanfic!" Satan tilts his head, "And why would we do that?" "Because the world deserves a Slowburn Michael x Solomon fic?" "Nope." "Pleaseee Satan! I'll pay you!" "Nope." "It'll annoy Luci?" "Tempting..." "I'll give you a kiss?" "I'm in. Let's write the best Michael x Solomon the Devildom's ever seen." You shake Satan's hand. Maybe you should've been reincarnated as a demon.

🩷🩷ASMODEUS 🩷🩷

Finds out through one of his gossip circles relatively fast.

He wants to get more details so he can tell you later! <3

By far one of the more supportive brothers

So he finds Solomon, who knows maybe he could give some advice!

Michael was strange, but he was always nice to Asmo growing up in the celestial realm, he might as well make sure one of his best friends is treating his former brother right <3

"Hiya Sol!~" Asmo smiles excitedly, pulling the sorcerer in for a hug, pouting when he pulled away again. "I cant believe you never told me! Ugh~...you must've been scared I wouldn't accept you!~ Poor thing...~" Solomon blinks slowly, his usual shit-eating grin replaced with pure confusion, lost in his own rant, Asmo doesn't notice. "Well! You have my blessing!~" "For what?" "For your relationship with Michael, silly!~" Asmo giggles, Solomon takes a deep breath. "For my what." A pause pauses all sound for a moment, only for a moment, before like all other moments, they begin the cycle of movemnt again. Solomon nods rather calmly, "Maybe I shouldn't have turnt MC into a sheep....or maybe I should do it again as payback...." He says to himself Asmo sighs, so it was just a rumour then....

He does still post a link to your fanfic on his Devilgram story, because he's so supportive! <3

No one tell Michael, or Lucifer pretty please

❤️❤️BEELZEBUB❤️❤️ & 💜💜BELPHEGOR💜💜

Being a member of the Anti-Lucifer League, Satan told Belphie who told Beel after taking a nap.

Beel, being the absolute legend that he is didn't really have any opinions on it. As long as they're happy :)

Belphie sits in on the fanfic plot planning sessions you and Satan host, with Beel sometimes joining and giving surprisingly interesting plot twists.

Belphie cackles when Beel tells Lucifer of the rumours, shortly before the first chapter of Forbidden Fruits is published.

Satan and You stand by the whiteboard in the attic, various spider diagrams and bullet points are written messily upon it, only this time, it's not a plan to 'prank' Lucifer. (Are they really pranks if they never succeed?) The sound of munching can be heard as Beel works away happily on a bag of crisps, offering everyone some as you work. "What if we made Solomon run after Michael in the rain." Belphie drawls out lazily, not even looking up from where he lies beside Beel. You stare at Belphie, "What is with you and the people chasing after people in the rain trope?" Belphie sticks his tongue out at you in response. Beel shakes his head. "That wouldn't be accurate. Michael hates getting his hair wet." Belphie smiles, "Good point Beel." Satan makes a sound of contemplation. "What if...we had Michael chase Solomon in the rain instead? The fact he hates getting his hair wet could show just how much he loves Solomon..." You laugh, imagining the scene in your head. "But why is Michael chasing Solomon?" Belphie smirks, "Because Michael said something bad about humans during a fight, Solomon got upset and ran like a maiden." Beel stops munching on his snacks, looking down approvingly at his twin. "That's really smart Belphie." "Thanks Beel." Belphie grins. "Yeah Belph, your angstiness is really paying off." You tease. "Oh shut up MC." He glares at you, but there's no real weight behind it. "Theyre right you know." Satan smirks. "I heard you blasting Paramore and MCR earlier." "Its good music!"Belphie says definsively. "Besides, it keeps me awake. Goodnight." He mutters, laying his head on his twins lap before closing his eyes. Five minutes of silence later, Beel opens his mouth, "He does wear eyeliner a lot when he's in our room y'know?" "Beel!" You and Satan laugh, Beel just smiles happily at everyone getting along. Belphie devises a plan to make you dream pigeons are going to take over the world tonight as payback.

im on a Lucifer being bullied by Michael spree rn 🧍‍♂️ also you can't convince me that Satan and Belphie aren't soso similar to Lucifer bc at the end of the day they're all just angsty emo teens &lt;3

[arminthada]

what are your thoughts on the mysterious gentleman thada? do you think he has memories from the previous timeline too or not?

hi nonnie (❁´◡`❁)

ooooh my first reset theory ask. okayyyyyyyy disclaimer first. although i'm a novel reader, i haven't finished reading and the series so far is pretty much unlike what i've read so i'm disregarding all information from the source material and this answer is based SOLELY on what we've seen in the first ep.

PERSONALLY I'm a very simple watcher so i'm not the type that has even contemplated a third timeline or anything. From what we've gotten so far in EP 1, my theory is that:

In the original/first timeline where Armin is receiving his award, I think Thada has an exclusively fan-idol relationship with Armin where TD/Thada is his first fan ever who's always been silently supporting Armin since the start of his career and refuses to meet Armin at all as a fan.

I have no clue on how Thada first met Armin but for now I'm just guessing that Armin being the nice guy that he is, has helped/met Thada at some point (I'm thinking something like a chance encounter like Jin/Akin in Top Form where one partner is shaken by the act of kindness and the other person doesn't even remember it at all) and Thada began looking up information about Armin and realised that Armin is also in the entertainment industry that he's in so he just silently supports/sends gifts to Armin all along, without asking for anything in return because he knows that he as the top CEO of a media enterprise couldn't possibly be with famous actor Armin.

And when Armin dies, I think Thada will also be in serious grief and his grief will somehow powered the "reset" for Armin to travel back in time to live his life differently so it could be a chance for both of them to get what they deserve.

So if we go by my theory that Thada has been Armin's FC since Day 1, I would guess that when Armin's "reset" happened and he got sent back in time to this second timeline, Armin's death + Thada's grief in the first timeline also triggered something in Thada, telling him to stop silently support Armin from now on and take a more active approach with Armin (I also think Thada has also gained some kind of telepathic powers of sensing dangers around Armin after the "reset") from now on.

This would mean that in timeline where Armin has traveled back to, up until this point Thada has still been silently supporting him Armin all along (sending him gifts like that recorder) but this time because Armin has been "resetted" which means Armin is going to act differently before hence Thada in this second timeline also feels compelled to act differently (be more proactive) from what he's always been doing in the past.

Therefore in this moment for example, I think this is the first time that Armin meets AND remembers Thada but not for Thada. Perhaps for Thada, it might be more apt to call it the first time he actively approaches Armin?

Therefore I'm positing that in this moment, Thada was supressing his inner fanboy TD to pretend as if he doesn't know his no.1 idol actor Armin.

because CLEARLY this CANNOT just be a COINCIDENCE. one does not COINCIDENTALLY meet the person they saved their life the other day IN THE MIDDLE OF A PARK =))))))))))))

Armin is so obviously clocking Thada's lie but Thada definitely makes up a compelling lie to cover it up.

A lie that fanboy Thada obviously has to follow up on so he orders his secretary to buy him flat at Armin's place like it's grocery shopping to him =)))))))

In conclusion, this "second" encounter cannot have been a coincidence.

So all that would also explain why Armin still has that recorder from TD aka Thada aka his first fan ever who's already been sending him gifts since Day 1 regardless whether it's the first or the second timeline.

I think veteran actor Armin travelling back in time and giving acting performances that are way more above his capability at that time also gave Thada a stronger conviction to actively pursue and protect him. Like after talking with Armin at the park and then seeing this footage, I think fanboy Thada feels even more determined to get closer to Armin. In kpop terms, he would be a full on delulu y/n fanboy but we're watching a BL series so this is just your average simping ceo male lead.

My answer is also heavily influenced by other brilliant theories like this post by @my-rose-tinted-glasses and this post by @doyou000me and this post by @cirphu so check out their posts also \(￣︶￣*\))

thank you for reading all of this and i really hope that made sense ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ