#and then as if that wasn’t bad enough had to have a talk with my mum about racism and body image and religious trauma and how she can’t keep

[trashydez]

like a phoenix. (2.7k words)

what if phoenix- instead of being virtually indestructible, actually wasnt? what if he was actually incredibly prone to death, but he just… never stayed dead?

(trigger warning for a multitude of causes of deaths!! some in detail and some not. other tw’s include implied suicide attempts, implied child neglect, derealisation and thinking one is already dead. be warned! take care of yourself!)

at 9, he wakes in his bed after having a high fever and his mom ships him off to school hours after it began. he finds it odd, because last he’d checked his temperature (that morning, when he told his mom he felt like he was going to die and his mom had left to go run errands, barely sparing him a glance), his temperature had been at 107 degrees farenheit. that was definitely high, but after he slipped into unconsciousness, writhing and restless and in a lot of pain, he woke up to his mother checking his temperature and saying he was fine to head off to school. he didnt feel fine, but his temperature had gone down significantly enough that his mother felt like he had no excuse not to go. hes glad he went to school though, even as he shivered, sneezed and sniffled, because there he found a friend in a boy with a funny bowtie and a heart made of gold.

he crunches and chokes on glass shards and poison but doesnt die. the doctors dont find anything wrong with him, aside from feeling a bit ill, so he goes back into the courtroom and dollie is convicted of murder. hes happy his roommate is away for some theatre troupe thing, because the sickness eventually catches up to him and he throws up shards of glass, acid and blood. it cuts into his throat and burns his eyes and he swears, he swears he dies right then and there, freezing and shaking and everything hurts. but when he wakes up hours later, the sun having set and the only light source in his dingy dormroom the moon outside, hes amazed to not feel sick anymore. but the puddle of sludge is drying beside his face and he considers himself lucky, or maybe unlucky, because unlike dahlia’s other victims, he actually lives to tell the tale.

phoenix arrives early to the office, having been in the public library nearby reading a book on reincarnation. he enters the office and promptly has his skull caved into his brain. he does not see his assailant, but when he wakes, theres an oddly dressed girl crying, crouched over his boss’ cold body. he doesn’t think about the drying blood in the back of his head, or how cold mia’s body is (and why he can even tell, considering the fact he has not touched her corpse) or the chapter in the book he’d been reading that talked about quantum immortality— all he thinks of is proving maya fey’s innocence.

as it turns out, being constantly anxious and terrified of mortal peril actually has its perks. maybe the fact he’s a lawyer whose only ever dealt with homicide cases definitely wasn’t benefiting his mental wellbeing either. in any case, its that fear of literally everything and constant feeling of impending doom that makes his body react before his mind does. taser! danger! maya! so, he gets tasered. and it fucking HURTS, but he feels more relieved than frightened as the searing pain shoots through him, because he’d been able to push maya away before von karma got to them both. wasnt a symptom of death by electrocution an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and imminent death? maybe he was going crazy. when he comes back though, its to his head in the lap of a crying spirit medium, so maybe a psychotic break isnt too bad if it means everyone else gets to escape with no damage to their own psyche.

its only after she stops screaming in terror- oh my god, nicks a zombie!! kyahh!!!- and nearly beating him with her bulky magatama necklace, that she tells him what she saw. (“like, there was a sudden bright light and then i realised it was coming from you! but when i tried to touch your glowing skin,” she says it like its the most absurd thing she’d ever seen, which really said something considering the fact she was from a family of people who could channelthe dead “it was HOT! like, japanifornia summer hot! blazing! i was only able to check your pulse after you cooled down a bit…”). maybe its this that makes him less alarmed by the way his skin glowed in the dark of his trashed bedroom, after drinking himself to death following a certain phone call from a terribly sad, newly bossless detective. he doesnt think he can bear the taste alcohol ever again, after that.

maybe the number of times he’s died of blunt force trauma to the head should be a cause for concern, even more so when he wakes up without any of his memories. he’s terrified, and doesnt even knows who he is, until he does, and is able to prove maggey byrde innocent. fun times! he should probably watch out to make sure his next death wasn’t to the head, lest he be as mentally impaired as a number of people liked to say he was… (and he should probably also be concerned by the fact he was already thinking of the next time he’d die, but ah well, blame it on the concussion).

as it turns out, getting whipped to death was not on his list of ways he thought he’d die next, but life liked to mess with him like that, it seemed. still, dragging his delirious self to the bathroom of his office to try and save the infected wounds from killing him wasn’t all that fun, and he’s immediately reminded of his first death, slow and painful, alone and scared of what came next. he feels bad for feeling relieved when maya shows up and screams upon seeing the state he and the bathroom (that’d he’d accidentally trashed when his legs gave out after he opened the door, a number of bottles fallen to the floor beside him) were in. he stops her from calling the police- there was no point, he didn’t have much time left. but when she asks what she could do, he goes quiet. (…just… stay here? i dont- he coughs up a distinctly red shade of spit. maya makes a noise between a choked cry and a whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck. but phoenix was shivering worse now, and hugs himself tigher. i dont want to die alone.) so she stays with him, on the cold bathroom floor, as his labored breathing eventually slows. when he awakens, he finds maya asleep leaning against him, and promises to get her burgers as a thank you.

who knew death by a monkey throwing a giant bronze bust of max galactica at you could happen? at this point, he’s almost glad he was basically immortal, because there was no way in hell he’d allow his autopsy report to say ‘cause of death: monkey manslaughter’! edgeworth would laugh himself to tears if he saw! not that he could see. or cry, because he was dead. and not coming back. damn.

so edgeworth isnt dead! yippee? he thought it was his thing to get reanimated after death, not edgeworths. when he saw him, standing in the middle of the police department, alive and breathing and very much not dead, he nearly started laughing. he must’ve finally gone insane! curse the amount of times he’d died of brain related injuries, not that he knew how many of them there were at this point. he might actually have laughed a bit, because pearls was looking at him like he was losing it (he was) but he couldnt really bring himself to care as he had more pressing issues at hand, like saving his best friend from a crazy serial killer holding her hostage, and punching his other best friend in the face for faking his own death (because really, dying was his thing! not edgeworths!). and if he pulls edgeworth into a hug immediately after, throwing caution in the wind (you only live once, right?), the warmth- a normal, human temperature, unlike his burning hot when he came back from death- is enough to stabilise his harried mind for just a moment, before he has to return to his guilty client and his hopeless situation.

by some crazy turn of events, he actually doesnt die from having boiling hot coffee thrown at his face. it burns, and maya screams when she sees the boils on his face after that first trial with godot, but after throwing a wet towel over his face and putting him in timeout on the sofa for 12-hours, the burns go away as if they were never there. he fell asleep at some point, and after alot of back and forth debate, they eventually came to the conclusion that 1. his body heat rising to burning levels when he dies must have caused his body has to grow immune to heat and 2. since sleep was like a ‘temporary death’, a ‘temporary wound’ would just heal like it did when he died of normal wounds, right? he didn’t want to dwell on it too much, because maya was looking at him like she wanted to test that theory for real, so he quickly changes topics before things got out of hand.

so their theory on the immunity to heat thing was correct! …almost. larry had tried to stop him, but it was fire and he was basically immune to heat, right? nope! his skin burned and boiled but he didn’t die as he tried to run across the burning bridge. even so, nothing hurt more than falling through one of the burnt planks and slamming onto the surface of the freezing cold rushing stream below. luckily the death was near immediate, but unfortunately he came to while in the water still, so he swallowed a sizeable amount of water before paramedics arrived. he hears the doctors find his survival miraculous, despite the scorching hot fever he was now under. he blacks out again, and comes to in the hospital, feeling absolutely terrible.

the horribleness feels familiar though, and when edgeworth walks in, he realises what it must be, when the man presses the back of his hand to his temple and quickly pulls his hand away as if burned. (oh. he thinks, tearing up despite himself. it must be the fever. i’m going to die like this again.) his internal monologue must’ve been external though, because edgeworth balks (‘again?!’). but phoenix was crying in hiccups and sobs, feeling terrible and like he was nine years old again, wishing his mother were there to nurse him back to health like she’d never done before. he faintly hears edgeworth sitting down on his bed and reaches out, gripping the mans waist like it was a lifeline. in a sense, it was. “don’t go.” he whispers, gripping the man tighter like he’d disappear into thin air (again). “please, please don’t go.” in his delirium, he nearly wails in despair when he feels edgeworth move, but he was only moving to readjust himself so he’s lying next to him, their bodies so close that it must burn, but the only sign edgeworth shows that he’s in pain is a wince and the crease of his brow. he allows himself to be cried on, curling a protective arm over phoenix’s burning body. “i- i dont know what’s going on, wright, but i’m not, i’m not going anywhere, okay?” he seems to be attempting exasperation, but it comes out terrified and concerned, but phoenix is fading quickly, so it might just be his waning mind making up things that don’t exist. “i am terrified. your body is life threateningly hot and— wright? wright!”

he comes to with nurses surrounding him, and a distressed edgeworth swearing on his life that that man was dead, his body was seizing and on fire and- and his heart stopped beating! but phoenix couldn’t dwell on it, because the mention of fire immediately brought him back to why he was in the hospital at all. and plus, it gave him the chance to use his best friends sensitive treatment of him afterwards to convince him to play defense attorney, so that was nice. still, he feels like he dies when he finds out dahlia had actually been iris and that godot was actually his dead mentors apparently not dead boyfriend. oh, and he was also a murderer. he also feels like he dies when dahlia- actual, serial killer and dead by execution dahlia, was exorcised from maya’s body. but that had more to do with his soul leaving his body in terror rather than actually dying, so that was a nice change of pace… probably.

later, he’d had to have a conversation with edgeworth to give him an explanation on just what the hell he’d witnessed in that hospital room. although, apparently his re-aliving symptoms must’ve started becoming more dramatic, because miles describes it as his whole body glowing as bright as the sun, and then his eyes opening for a moment to reveal nothing but white, glowing eyeballs with no irises. phoenix has to convince him to still board his flight the day after, that he was okay… probably. maybe not safe, but definitely okay. (still, edgeworth stays the night at his, and they hold eachother close, basking in the shared warmth of two alive bodies in heat equilibrium, listening to eachothers breathing and rhythmic heartbeats, no signs of impending mortality in sight, save for, what did the french call it? la petite morte? most of all, phoenix basks in the promise miles makes to him. “i’m not going anywhere,” he repeats, over and over like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was phoenix. “i’m not going anywhere, i promise.”)

and when he loses his badge, he thinks he really does die, permanent and definitively. he feels far away from his body when the forger is called to the witness stand. feels like a ghost when the council walks out the room and past him, making no eye contact and answering the unanswered question on the tip of his tongue. feels his life crumble to pieces when a blonde man with a pleasent, almost saintly smile gives him the most maddeningly sympathetic look and tells him he is sorry for his loss, as if there really was someone dead. only, the only one dead must’ve been him, because there was no one else there who had just lost their life. he couldn’t even hear himself as he laughed, which turned into sobs, as he excused himself and fleed to his bicycle. not one pedestrian bats an eye at the state he is in, so he must really be a ghost, cycling past speeding cars and large trucks and buses as if it couldn’t kill him, because he wasn’t there, he was already dead. when he reaches his office, freezing and quiet and dreadfully void of any human life, he passes by the window his boss had died at and sees his reflection, unkempt and red faced and badgeless. he wants to scream, but he couldn’t because no one would hear a ghost scream, so instead he just sits down in the spot his mentor had lost her life in, and mourns.

when two weeks later a warm, incredible alive life falls into his hands in the shape of a little girl with a too big tophat and a joy for being alive that he’d lost years ago, well, maybe he is glad that he couldn’t die for real, if only to be able to wake up to that beaming grin as his little girl tries to pull her daddy out of bed because she’d made breakfast, and it only smells burnt because of the magic something she’d added as a special ingredient. he eats it, char and all, because he can’t taste the burnt-ness of it anyway, but he could taste the love and care put into it, and that was more than enough to take his mind away readying himself for his next death. instead, he thinks of his daughter’s next performance at the wonder bar, and their next trip to kurain, and miles’ next visit. for once, he thinks of living.

[whorelaud]

꒦꒷ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 untouchable ¡

pairing experienced¡roommate¡rafe cameron x innocent¡reader

sunmary rafe guides you through your first masturbation after you told him you've never touched yourself before, his offer tempting you in ways you've never experienced before. your curiosity grows as well as your desire, leading to an intimate moment that changed things between you two.

contains smut! first time masturbating, guided orgasm, fingering, lots and lots of kissing, dirty talk, nipple play, needy reader, player rafe, hes a tease!! he also interrupts reader, uhh thats ab it (i think). wc; 4.2k

a/n hi !! this took two days to write and at least 1-2 months to get out of my notes blaahhh hope you enjoy!!!!

“Have you ever had someone go down on you?” 

You choked out a snort of disblief, taken aback by the question. Rafe, who was seated inches away from you, chuckled, turning his head in your direction, causing the smile on your face to instantly vanish. 

He wasn’t joking. 

You cleared your throat, feeling heat crawl past your neck, until it eventually settled on your face. You’ve had your fair share of embrassing moments with your roommate, but this? You wanted the ground to split and swallow you whole, too ashamed to respond. 

Truth be told, you’ve never involved yourself in any sexual activities, let alone had someone go down on you. Hell, you’ve barely ever touched yourself before, brushing off your random bursts of arousal whenever you were sexually frustrated

So, the question here was, how were you supposed to tell him that? Reveal that you were a virgin at heart, and that you’ve never had someone touch you intimatly; not that you’ve done it. 

You were painfully aware of how experienced Rafe was, with the latter informing you all about his hookups; and that was besides the amount of girls he brought over. The walls were thin enough to give everything out, their loud moans and whimpers echoing through your ears. In conclusion, you didn’t need him to break down what he was up to. 

“Not that I remember.” You muttered, brushing off the question. 

“What?” He cocked his head to the side, snatching the spoonful of ice cream from your hold. “Who doesn’t remember getting eaten out?” 

“People are busy, Rafe.” You scoffed, licking the drop of ice cream off your thumb. “Not everyone has the time to fuck around.”

“You’re not busy,” he muffled out, tossing the spoon back in the tube of ice cream on your lap. “You don’t go out, all you do is lay around the whole day, then proceed to complain over the fact that you did nothing all day.”

You rolled your eyes, faking an annoyed expression at his words. Rafe adjusted his position, manspreading on the sofa, until his knee was hovering over yours, the contact ceasing the distance between you. 

“I mean, come one…” he trailed off, tone slightly teasing. “I’ve never seen you bring anyone over, are you really not interested in any of that stuff?” 

“How about you mind your business?” You huffed, feeling your ears burn with heat. “Why do you wanna know so bad?” 

“What?!” He defensively shot back, “I’m jus’ curious, besides, you never tell me anything, it’s always me talking.” 

“It’s ‘cause there’s nothing to tell you,” you mumbled under your breath, avoiding Rafe’s gaze. “There, you happy?”

Silence seeped through the air, atmosphere heavy with tension. Rafe‘s lips parted with disbelief, speechles by your blunt response. That was… new, you never brought up your sexual life to the latter before, so to think you were admitting to being a virgin over a silly argument struck Rafe to his core. 

"You're not like, serious or anything, right?” He attempted to laugh it off, smile fading when your expression remained the same. “Shit, you’re being serious.”

Your gaze settled on your hands in your lap, too embarrassed to glance over at Rafe, whose eyes burned holes through your flesh. You could envision the look of disbelief on his face, not having to look to know that he was shocked. 

“Why are you surprised?” You giggled, brushing off the heavy tension seeping through. “You said it yourself, i’ve never really brought anyone over.” 

“I was messing,” he swiftly replied, “I didn’t think you were you know… a virgin.”

“Okay, if you word it like that…” You tilted your head to the side, a tight-lipped smile spreading across your lips. 

“Have you never like, engaged in anything?” Rafe muttered, trying to play off the question as something casual, though you knew it wasn’t. “You know, never gave a guy a blowjob before?” 

Nothing about your roommate asking if you’ve given a guy a blowjob was casual. 

“No.” You shook your head, a snort escaping your throat. 

“You’ve kissed someone before though, right?” He asked, voice lowering with hesitation. 

“I’ve kissed someone before.” You exclaimed, leaning your head back on the sofa. “You already knew about that.” 

“You did tell me,” he nodded his head, “Have you never like…”

“What is it now, Rafe?” You question, teasing hinted through your tone. “Why are you investigating me?”

“‘M not; jus’ curious.” He muffled out, voice barely above a whisper. “Have you never pleased yourself?”

“What?” You ask, coming to a halt. 

The question filled with temptation, something you both chose to avoid for the sake of your friendship. Rafe always playfully flirts with you, using every chance he could to tease you. Those usually end in you brushing it off, not thinking too much of it. 

However, this was personal. He was asking questions that shall be private, not for him to hear, nor know about.  

“Have you never touched yourself before?” He elaborated, gaze flickering to your lap. “You’ve touched yourself, right?” 

You remained silent, blinking far too many times for your liking. You fidgeted with the rings hugging your fingers, busying yourself with the movie displayed on the tv, now long forgotten with the ongoing conversation. 

“Fuck.” Rafe muttered under his breath, throat going dry. “That’s so…” 

“Embrassing,” you cut him off, playing off your embarrassment. “I know.” 

“It’s hot; somehow turns me on,” he corrected, continuing his statement. “Knowing you’ve never touched yourself before.” 

Your head shifted in his direction, a flustered expression spreading across your face as you felt heat settle on your cheeks. You swallowed around your throat, mouth gaping to speak, met with utter silence in return. 

Shivers ran down your spine, the sensation like feathers on your skin. Rafe’s blank expression made things worse, displaying how serious he was being. He wasn’t fucking around, even with how swift the conversation took a turn. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, clearing your throat. “Quit messin’ around.” 

“Did that get you?” Rafe choked out a giggle, easing the tension between you. 

“That wasn’t funny!” You huffed, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Don’t joke around like that.”

“I mean,” he said, teasingly fidgeting with his tongue. “It wasn’t a joke, but–”

“Rafe!” Your face heat up, flustered expression spreading across your face. 

“Sorry!” He chuckled, drifting off for a moment. His gaze trailed down your body, a sly smirk finding his lips once again. “You need help? I’ll guide you through it.” 

You paused, considering his suggestion for a moment, even if he meant it as a joke. Your lips quivered into a thin line, feeling your throat dry up when his hand found your bare thigh, action teasing, tempting you in ways that were forbidden. 

And before you got time to process the gesture, he grabbed the ice cream tube from your lap, instantly scooping a bite with the spoon inside. It took you a moment to catch on with what he did, attempting (and failing) to snatch it back from his hold. 

“Hey, that’s mine.” You muttered, gaze shifting up to Rafe when he stood to his feet. 

“What’s mind is yours, remember?” He winked, walking backwards to maintain eye contact with you. “We both pay the bills around here.” 

“I paid for that, though.” You argued, mimicking the latter’s action as you followed in his steps. 

“From whose wallet?” He reasoned, causing you to go quiet. 

Right, you did steal ten bucks to buy that from him; though the boy didn’t mind. 

Your shoulder relaxed, defeated by the boy’s response as you watched him enter his room, letting the door shut behind him. 

That was that.

Later that night, you found yourself slipping under your convers, tempted by Rafe’s words from earlier. Your hands traced down your body, halting around the sliver of skin in between your shirt and shorts. 

Your fingers toyed with the waistband of your shorts, teeth digging through your bottom lip as your hand tumbled beneath the thin cloth, the sensation of your cold fingers brushing over your heat sending shivers throughout your body. 

Your digits lightly traced over your heat, sliding down your folds, inaudible gasp escaping your throat when you noticed how wet you’ve gotten from earlier. Rafe’s words echoed through your ears as your eyes fell shut, imagining him guiding you through your masturbation with his words, the thought spiraling pleasure through your body.

You collected your juices with your fingers, gasping as you traced them back to your clit, the sensation overwhelming you whole. You started off with slow rubs to your cunt, letting your pleasure build up within every touch you committed to. 

You imagined Rafe’s hand instead of yours, rubbing your clit while he whispered praises to your ears. The thought washed guilt over you, aware you were going to regret your pathetic thoughts once the pleasure wears off. 

Imagining your roommate going down on you was your last predicament tonight, yet, here you were, touching yourself while pretending it was Rafe, his words never leaving your mind. You would’ve been down for whatever, the least he could’ve done was push through with his teasing, and you would’ve gladly accepted it. 

But he didn’t, and that made you want him even more. The idea of not being able to have him, not even for a moment, because it was forbidden. You were well aware of that, barely holding back before, whether Rafe stood too close, or said something tempting. 

“Hey, uh, have you seen my green–” Rafe burst through the door, freezing in his tracks once he noticed the state you were in. “Sweatshirt?” 

The covers weren’t much of help, as Rafe instantly realized what you were doing. He gulped, feeling himself twitch in his pants, as his fingers clutched around the doorknob. You immediately jumped out of your position once you spotted him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your eyes trailed down to his torso, feeling heat crawl to your face when you noticed his bare chest, out on display. Right, that was a norm, you should’ve been used to it by now.

“What the fuck, dude?” You shot back, heavy breaths escaping your throat. “Can’t you knock?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, too hazed up to process what you were saying. “Right, sorry, I– I should’ve knocked.”

You felt so exposed under his gaze, tugging your bottom lip with guilt as you caught sight of his face. Maybe that was meant to happen, a sign that you shouldn’t have crossed the invisble line you created, pleasing yourself over the thought of your best friend. 

“What do you need?” You muffled out, gulping when his eyes flickered down to your lips. 

“Well, I was jus’ asking if you’ve seen my sweatshirt, but…” He trailed off, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “You seem busy.” 

“I was sleeping.” You replied, though the excuse was not much help. “You– you interrupted.”

“Clearly,” He cocked his head to the side, seeking your gaze with his own, a desperate exhale escaping his parted lips when your eyes wouldn’t meet his. “I’ll leave you to it, then…”

He trailed off, hinting something with his tone. He hesitated to leave, still clutching into the door handle while he stared at you, waiting for you to at least say something, stop him before he does anything stupid and ruin your friendship in the process. 

However, you didn’t, leading the latter to shut the door, the gesture causing you to wince. You gulped, observing as Rafe came to a halt, his back to the door, with his hand yet wrapped around the doorknob. His lips parted with an exhale, fingers finding his jaw as he busied himself with his chin. 

And if you didn’t know him any better, you would’ve thought he was nervous. But he wasn't. You knew Rafe, he was your roommate, after all. 

“What are you doing?” You questioned, voice low enough he could barely hear you. 

Rafe remained silent, leisurely approaching you with haste. Your gaze followed his every move as he came to a halt around the edge of the bed, now towering over you. You fluttered your eyes up at the latter, breath hitching when you noticed the look of despair on his face. 

His fingers hovered beneath your chin, thumb slightly tracing your bottom lip, the fraction causing your mouth to part. He tilted your head with the fingers around your jaw, cursing under his breath once he caught sight of your hazed state, too far gone to comprehend your surroundings. 

“You need help with that?” He questioned, gaze flickering to the shorts that hung low on your waist, able to see them now that he was in your presence. 

“Huh?” You questioned, vision going blurry when his thumb grazed over your teeth. “What do you mean?”

He groaned when your tongue darted out, licking a stripe of his finger, the gesture bold, encouraging him to continue. And he did, inserting his thumb inside your mouth, the sensation of your hot spit coating his finger earning a shuddered exhale out of the boy. 

You swirled your tongue around the digit, driving Rafe over the edge. He imagined your lips wrapped around his cock instead of his finger, the dirty thought causing him to twitch in his pants, fully hard hard by now. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered, withdrawing his finger from in between your lips, and replaced it with his own as he captured your lips in an open-mouthed kiss. “Can’t believe you’ve never let anyone touch you before.” 

“Is it that hard to believe?” You hushed, lowering your tone to match his. “Are you gonna tease me over it?”

“While that does sound tempting right now,” he smiled over your mouth, littering wet kisses in between his sentence. “I’ll pass, ‘rather focus on you, doll.”

Your face heat up at the pet name, too flustered to respond. You were still in disbelief over this, whatever it was, not expecting anything like this to happen between you two. Fuck, Rafe was kissing you, and you were totally in for it, in fact, your body was speaking faster than your mind, following your needs before you could process it. 

“I’ll guide you through your first time, baby.” He muttered under his breath, knee finding the space in between your legs. He captured the corner of your lips in an open-mouthed kiss, one of his hands toying with the strap of your bra. “Let me make you feel good.” 

“You know,” you trailed off, enjoying the sensation of his fingers tracing the bare skin around your shoulders, the contact like feathers to your flesh. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 

“Why not?” He asked, hands shifting down to your waist, barely above the hem of your top. “It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong, ‘m only helpin’ you.”

“Jus’ shut up n’ kiss me.” You slurred, wrapping both arms around his neck as you ceased the distance between you. 

A content hum left Rafe’s throat, pressing you down to the bed with the hands around your waist. The latter hovered over you, angling his head to the side to deepen the kiss. A gasp escaped your throat as he nibbled on your bottom lip, the unexpected gesture causing you to part your mouth. 

Rafe saw a chance, and took it, tongue invading the inside of your mouth with the access you granted him, your fingers toyed with the bozzed hair at the back of his head, almost yelping when his cold fingers made contact with the sliver of skin around your stomach. 

You’ve never been touched by a man like this before, Rafe was exploring parts in your body that were meant to be hidden, not for his gaze to admire. Multiple times he had to hold back, watching you innocently walk around the house with a set of pajamas that barely covered anything, revealing all your curves. 

You drove him crazy, with everytime you moved, slightly teased him, told him things no one should know, he wasn’t able to handle it, not with how oblivious you were to the hints he kept dropping. And if he rubbed one out to the thought of you, he wasn’t mentioning it; not to you, that’s for sure.

His fingers toyed with the waistband of your shorts, withdrawing from the kiss to glance down, making you feel shy under his gaze. He tugged the elastic down your side, hissing when his fingers made contact with the warm skin hidden underneath. 

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned, “Get these off, need to see you s’ bad.” 

You moaned at the remark, letting your eyes fall shut as he tugged your shorts down, levelling them with your knees, until he could get a good view of your dripping cunt. A shuddered sigh escaped his lips, fingers instantly finding your folds. 

You gasped at the sensation, arching into the touch, chasing after your pleasure when he moved his hand up your sides, pressing your hips down to the bed. 

“Stay,” He whispered, lips ghosting over yours. “I’m supposed to be helpin’ you, ‘member?”

Right, that skipped over your head. 

“Well then, hurry up and do it.” You whined, almost yelping when his hand hovered over your heat. “Fuck, Rafe, please.”

“Please what?” He question, a teasing grin forming on his lips. “Use your words, baby.” 

“Touch me.” You demanded, words slurring out of your mouth. 

“You know I can’t do that.” He chuckled, retrieving one of your hands from around his neck. “S’ supposed to be your job.”

He guided your hand down to your heat, pressing your fingers to your clit. You moaned, leaning your head back as Rafe moved your digits over your cunt, using his hand to lead you through the rhythm, slow and steady, not too much, in case you grew sensitive to it. 

You desperately shuddered under the touch, gasping when Rafe pressed his hand over yours, the gesture spiraling pleasure throughout your body. His face nuzzled into your neck, littering wet kisses to your throat as he continued pleasing you with his guided hand, leisurenly picking up his (your) pace. 

“Fuck,” you whined, nails digging into the blade of his shoulder, well aware he was waking up with bruises with how much pressure you were applying. “Feels s’ good.” 

“Yeah?” He muffled against your neck, teeth grazing over flesh, before he nibbled right under your jaw. “Am I making you feel good, baby?”

You hummed, too accompanied with your pleasure to respond. You arched into the touch, muffled whines the only thing leaving your throat as Rafe’s fingers traced over your folds, until they found your entrance. 

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, withdrawing from the crook of your neck. “You’re so wet for me, doll.”

Your face heat up at the words, turning your head to the side to avoid looking at the latter. One of his hands slid underneath your shirt, kneading your boob with his fingers. Everything felt overwhelming, whether it was the hand guiding your fingers on your clit, or the one squeezing your breasts, it was too much for you to comprehend with a hazy mind and a blurry vision. 

He managed to get your shirt off with a bit of shuffling, and a bit of help from you; of course, leaving you in only your bra. His mouth salivated at the sight of your breasts, now half on display, only for him to see. 

He swallowed around his throat, fingers toying with the thin material of your bra, using the digits to tug it down, until it exposed your nipple to the chilly air, causing goosebumps to break out across your chest. He rolled it with his thumb, fascinated with how perfectly your boobs sat. 

You jolted under his touch, becoming sensitive to the finger flicking your nipple, growing even more surprised when he leaned down, taking your tit in his mouth. His tongue swirled over your now hardened nipple, letting his spit coat a stripe of your chest. 

Your back arched into Rafe’smouth, eyes forcing shut as his hand found your back, unclipping your bra with a swift gesture. He let the cloth hang loose around your chest, finger dipping beneath the straps around your shoulders, letting them fall down your sides. 

“God,” he grunted, his hot breath fanning over your boob, while his hand toyed with the other, squeezing and kneading the plump flesh. “You’re a fucking mess for me.”

You whined in protest to his words, feeling your pleasure build up, sensing your climax in the process. Rafe’s mouth found your lips once again, capturing them in a lustful kiss. He licked into your mouth, tongue gliding over yours as it met his half way through. 

“I think I’m…” you spoke in between kisses, “Rafe– fuck!”

An audible gasp escaped your throat when Rafe circled your entrance, lining his finger up with your hole. And without a warning, he slipped a finger inside, the new found pleasure mixed with pain alluring you into his trap. 

This was exactly what he wanted, to have you a flustered mess under his touch, show you how good he could make you feel, even if it was wrong, forbidden; in your words.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, parted lips ghosting over yours. “Wanna fuck you so bad, doll.” 

You whined over the statement, picturing the idea of Rafe fucking you stupid, until you no longer were able to remember your name. His finger moved inside you, letting you get used to the digit moving in and out of you. Your hand was back to your side by now, letting Rafe lead you through your built orgasm. 

The latter lined another finger with your hole, slowly letting it insert inside you, using his thumb to rub your clit, merely to distract your mind off the pain, and focus on pleasing you. His pace was slow, steady enough it drove you crazy. 

His fingers continued pumping in and out of you, with you relaxing into the touch once you slightly got used to the digits stretching you out. Rafe picked up his speed when he noticed that, hand growing sloppy inside your dripping hole. 

“Rafe–” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m so fuckin’ close.”

He hummed, littering open-mouthed kissed to your lips as you gasped into his mouth when his fingers hit your g stop. And you were so closer, with his fingers inserting in and out of you, while his thumb rubbed your clit, chasing after your pleasure. 

Your legs trembled as you came undone, shuddering in Rafe’s arms as he walked you through your orgasm. He slowed down his pace, chuckling as a content hum escaped your throat, pulling him down for a quick kiss.

It was sweet, lingering for only a moment before Rafe pulled away, smug smile ghosting over your lips. He withdrew his fingers from your entrance, with you already missing the warmth of his fingers inside. 

He traced his hand over your figure, coming to a halt when he reached your mouth. He parted your lips with his fingers, a silent demand that you shall not deny. You took the digits in your mouth, gliding your tongue over each one, tasting yourself on them. 

Rafe smirked, watching you with despair, a look of want you only got to experience whenever he was hitting on other girls. Yet, here he was, fucking you with his fingers until you came undone. 

He withdrew his fingers, replacing it with his own mouth as he pulled you in for another kiss, this time to taste you on his lips. He smiled against you, satisfied now that he’s able to savor you whole, having explored every inch of your body; though he knew that wasn’t enough. 

“That felt good,” he started, rubbing his thumb over the corner of your face. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, I must say…” you trailed off, slightly growing flustered by his gaze as it burned holes through your skin. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You think?” He snickered, thumb brushing over your lips. “Should we give it another go, now that you lost your jerk-off virginity?”

“That’s lame,” You chuckled, a knowing smile suppressing its way across your lips. “Hmm, who knows, maybe that’s not the only virginity I’ll be losing tonight.”

“Okay, that’s a lame way of telling me you want me to take your virginity.” He grinned, amused by the embarrassed shove you gave to his shoulder. 

“My god, shut up!” You blushed, hiding your face with your hands. “That’s not what I was sayin’.”

“No yeah, definitely.” He nodded, attempting to get your hands off your face. “Don’t be a brat, baby, look at me.” 

Your hold fell loose around your face, letting Rafe move your hands off, revealing the smile tugging at your lips. He mimicked your action, expression switching into something serious, all while maintaining a teasing grin still. 

“You know, that wasn’t such a bad idea.” He pecked the corner of your lips, leisurely trailing down to your throat, until he nuzzled in the crook of your neck. “Maybe we should test it out.” 

“Test what out, idiot?” You grinned, tilting your head to give Rafe more access to the side of your neck. 

“Lots of stuff,” he muffled, “I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back, now that I got a taste of you.” 

“So, don’t.” You shot back, mouth moving faster than your brain as you responded. “Don’t hold yourself back, ‘m all yours.”

And that was the only sign Rafe needed, ceasing the distance between you before capturing your lips in a kiss, one you don’t think you’ll be able to forget.

[illbegottenfaith]

bad day - theo nott x reader

a visit from your boyfriend perks you up even on the most frustrating of days

a/n - my first theo nott fic! I’ve written for other fandom(s) so this was a nice change, hope you enjoy :

tropes/warnings - established relationship, a pet name here or there, nothing overwhelming, fluff, comfort, nothing 18+ but a brief alluding to it

word count - 1k

“Off.”

As a general rule of thumb, you were typically the clingier half of your relationship with Theo. There was something about the feel of his skin against yours and the way his touch grounded you that made you feel safe and cared for in ways you were still too embarrassed to express out loud. Theo was always happy to indulge, casually draping an arm across your shoulders and rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder.

However, like all rules, it came with its exception - particularly, when you were studying. You needed to focus on your work, and that wasn’t exactly possible with the delicious warmth of Theo pressed against your back or hip. For the most part, he stayed well away when you needed him to, but something about the adrenaline of Quidditch practice made him extra excitable. Which was how you found yourself pouring over a hellish Charms essay in the Slytherin common room late one night, when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your middle and a familiar weight rest in the crook of your neck.

“Theo, I mean it,” you whined as he slid into the seat next to yours, refusing to relinquish his hold on you, effortlessly dragging you onto his lap. Your irritation evaporated at the sight of his boyish blue eyes and his sloping smile. It was a problem, really, how you could never stay mad at him. Merlin knows his ego is bad enough as it is.

“Hey, doll.” His nose nudged yours and you finally relented, wrapping an arm around his neck as he kissed you. His face felt cool against your warm forehead, and he smelt pleasantly of some non-descript yet refreshing soap. 

“My neck is killing me,” you mumbled against his lips as you broke apart. Theo leaned back to get a better look at your wan face, distractedly running a hand down your spine.

“Have you had dinner yet?”

“Yes,” you frowned, “with you. Remember?”

Theo stared at you blankly. “Y/N. I’ve been at Quidditch practice for the past four hours.”

“What are you talking about? We had dinner, then we came up to the common room, and it was, y’know, freezing, and I said I needed to buy more fleece-lined tights, and you started saying something about liking me best without any tights, but then those fifth-years started wrestling each other over that game of -“

“- Gobstones?”

“Exactly!”

“Babe, that was last Thursday.”

Your face fell. “…it was. Merlin.” Theo watched, amused, as you let out a string of curses under your breath as you flipped through your planner, scowling. “It’s this stupid Charms essay that’s doing me in. I haven’t had my head on straight all week. Remember when I wore my earmuffs to breakfast on Tuesday?”

“Mhm.”

“Made a proper arse of myself at 8 in the morning. And I genuinely thought I saw you just an hour ago. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“I didn’t know I was so forgettable of a boyfriend,” Theo teased, as you buried your face into your hands. 

“Stop. I feel awful enough already,” came your muffled voice. Laughing, he took your hands in his own, his features softening at the exhausted look on your face.

“Rough day, baby?” You groaned, burying your face into his chest as he wrapped his other arm around you. Before meeting Theo, you took pride in how fiercely independent you were. Even now, you were more than capable of handling your daily stresses just as well as the next guy, but you still had the tendency of being tightly wound more often than not, and sometimes it just felt nice to have someone hold you while you cried about how awful life was. No one could help you or get you to decompress the way Theo did.

“Rough week, more like,” you mumbled into his collarbone. He hummed sympathetically, hand still running up and down your spine.

“You didn’t say a word.”

“It could have been worse. I thought I’d just…you know. Deal.”

You could hear the amused lilt to his voice. “Deal?”

“Deal with it. On my own, I mean.”

His hold on you tightened a fraction. “Have dinner with me.”

“Didn’t you eat before practice?”

“Hm. Have supper with me.”

“Theo.”

“What?”

You sighed. You were never one to turn in an assignment late but, Merlin - he didn’t make things easy for you. 

“I really need to get this essay done.”

“So you’ll get it done. After supper. I could take a look at it for you. Or your neck. Or both.”

You snorted. “Yeah, sure, because a distraction is just what I need now. You don’t even take N.E.W.T level Charms.”

“So you find me distracting?”

You pressed your lips together, biting the inside of your cheek. “Let me put it this way. If I, um, ‘have supper’ with you now, this essay will not reach Flitwick’s desk by 10 am tomorrow.”

Theo didn't look too happy about anything you were saying. “So what do you want me to do?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Like any other guy, Theo could only sympathise for so long before he was bursting with advice or solutions. You glanced at the clock, getting the distinct impression that he was valiantly trying to stifle a yawn. 

“Go, leave, shoo. Get some rest, read a book, start a fight with some fifth-years, I don’t know. I just need to bully myself into finishing this. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“But I don’t want to start a fight with some sticky-fingered Gobstones-playing fifth-years.”

Still, he reluctantly slid you off his lap, pressing a kiss to your forehead before briefly disappearing. He returned with a huge, ancient book whose weathered cover seemed somewhat related to Potions. He arched an eyebrow as you made a face at it.

“What’s that?”

“What’s that?” You shot back, looking greatly repulsed by the gnarly volume.

“Some light bedtime reading material,” he quipped. You watched his face nervously, the tell-tale signs of fatigue knitted into the creases of his achingly beautiful face.

“I mean it, Teddy. You really should go to bed.”

“Can’t. I’ve got a date in an hour.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I’m taking this really pretty girl out for supper.”

You rolled your eyes as Theo settled into his seat, cracking the disfigured tome open.

“Smooth-talker.”

[camzeecorner]

Promiscuous 18+

Working for Mr. Sturniolo always seemed straightforward. He was often away, and even when he was home, our paths rarely crossed. Despite his youth, he maintained himself impeccably, and I admired that about him. Our interactions were limited to polite greetings, nothing more. I’d been his maid for three years, having taken over after he fired the previous one for stealing. A year into my employment, he invited me to live with him, a gesture of trust that I accepted without hesitation. At 22, living alone, the prospect of some company was appealing.

Living with him was uncomplicated. His demanding schedule kept him out of the house most of the time. I established a routine, ensuring I worked around the times he entertained guests. The house was expansive, requiring significant time and effort to maintain. Yet, I enjoyed my work. Mr. Sturniolo wasn’t difficult or strict. He had an air of mystery and sophistication that intrigued me, and I found myself looking forward to the rare moments our paths did cross.

“Valoree? My office, please.” Mr. Sturniolo's voice echoed down the hall. He only ever called me to his office when he had important information to share. Walking quickly, I approached his large door, knocking three times before hearing his voice granting me entry.

“Sir, you called for me?” I asked, stepping in. I stood a solid five feet away from his desk, knowing he didn’t like hovering. He cleared his throat, shutting his laptop before readjusting his blazer.

“Yes, I did. How’s your day?” he asked calmly, his face a mask of professionalism.

I offered him a warm smile. “Very good, sir, thank you for asking. And yours?” I returned the kind question.

“It’s uh...” he glanced to the side, as if searching for the right words. “It’s not too bad. Very slow, if I’m honest.” He smiled softly at me, a rare sight that made my heart skip a beat.

I nodded, acknowledging his words, and stood still, waiting for his next move. His eyes lingered on my small frame, making me feel both exposed and intrigued. “Valoree... the reason I called you in was because...” He paused, looking at me with an intensity that made my palms sweat.

I began to shift on my feet, growing increasingly nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly, and my heart started to race. Had I done something wrong?

“Don’t be so nervous, doll... just sending an invitation your way.” He smiled, flashing his perfect white teeth, and chuckled lightly. My shoulders slumped in relief, and I exhaled a sharp breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“Oh! How wonderful to hear. Thank you, sir,” I replied, my voice tinged with excitement.

“No problem, Val. I’ll have everything you need to know emailed to you before 7. Don’t worry about any preparations; it’s all on me. My treat.” His words were reassuring, and I couldn’t help but smile widely.

“Yes, sir, thank you,” I said, nodding enthusiastically.

He smiled back at me, his eyes softening. “Thank you, Valoree. You’ve been good to me and my home. I wanted to return the favor with a nice dinner.”

My heart warmed at his words, and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. He was a true charm, and he knew it. “Thank you, sir,” I replied, feeling a mix of gratitude and anticipation.

“You’re welcome, doll.” His voice was low and smooth. He always called me doll, saying I resembled one. I found it both corny and cute, a charming quirk of his. Just then, his phone chimed, signaling an incoming message. “I’ve gotta take this, shut the door on your way out,” he instructed.

As I left his office, I couldn’t help but think about him. Back in my room, I lay on my bed, thoughts of Mr. Sturniolo swirling in my mind. I couldn’t deny that I found him incredibly attractive. He was undeniably handsome, and the fact that he had two identical brothers only added to his allure. I had met his triplet brothers briefly, just enough for a bit of small talk, but nothing more.

I often imagined what it would be like if Mr. Sturniolo and I were friends. My interactions were mostly limited to his coworkers who came over in the mornings before heading out on business trips with him. I knew my life was small and lonely, but sometimes I thought it was better this way. It kept things simple, even if it meant longing for something more.

A small knock echoed at my door. I pulled myself off the bed and hurried to answer it. Opening the door, I was surprised to find my boss standing there. "Hey, I’ve gotta run somewhere really quick. Get dressed and I’ll meet you out front," he said hurriedly before disappearing as quickly as he had arrived.

He had never invited me to join him on his errands before. Excitement and curiosity bubbled up inside me as I quickly shut the door and walked to my closet. I picked out a nice sundress and my white pumps. The white dress contrasted beautifully against my smooth brown skin as I slid it on, carefully straightening the bottom to ensure it looked perfect.

I took a moment to look at myself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric one last time before grabbing my purse. My heart was racing with anticipation. What could be so urgent that he needed me to come along? I stepped out of my room and made my way to the front of the house, where he was already waiting by the car.

He glanced up as I approached, a small smile playing on his lips. "You look nice," he remarked, opening the car door for me. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks as I thanked him and slid into the passenger seat.

As he drove, I couldn't help but steal glances at him. His focus was on the road, but there was a certain intensity in his eyes that made me wonder what was on his mind. The silence between us was comfortable, yet charged with unspoken words. Finally, he broke the silence. "I hope you don't mind me dragging you out like this. I just thought... it might be nice to have some company for a change."

His words caught me off guard, and I found myself smiling. "I don't mind at all," I replied softly. "It's a nice change of pace."

We continued driving, the cityscape giving way to more open roads. I couldn't help but feel a sense of adventure, not knowing where we were headed but trusting him completely.

We arrived roughly about 13 minutes later, stopping in front of a tall, imposing warehouse-like building. Mr. Sturniolo unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door with a swift, confident motion. "I’ll be back in about 3 minutes, just sit tight. If someone approaches you, just say you work for me," he instructed, his voice firm yet reassuring as he began to walk away. I smiled and nodded at his words, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. "Yes, sir," I replied calmly, watching him disappear into the shadows of the building.

As I sat in the car, the minutes seemed to stretch on longer than they should. The dimly lit surroundings and the eerie silence of the warehouse district made me feel uneasy. I glanced around, trying to distract myself, but my mind kept drifting back to Mr. Sturniolo's instructions. Suddenly, I noticed a figure approaching from the corner of my eye. My heart rate quickened as the person drew nearer. Remembering his words, I took a deep breath and prepared myself to say I worked for him, hoping they would pass by without incident.

The figure continued to approach, and I could now make out more details—a tall, burly man with a stern expression. He stopped right next to the car, peering inside. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice gruff and suspicious.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. "I work for Mr. Sturniolo," I said as confidently as I could muster. The man scrutinized me for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

"Alright," he finally said, stepping back. "Just making sure. This area isn't safe for strangers."

With that, he walked away, and I let out a sigh of relief. Moments later, Mr. Sturniolo returned, a small, satisfied smile on his face. "Everything alright?" he asked as he got back into the car.

"Yes, sir," I replied, feeling a strange mix of relief and excitement.

When we arrived back home, Mr. Sturniolo parked the car and turned to me. "Remember, dinner is at 8 PM. Everything you need to know has been emailed to you," he reminded me before heading inside.

I nodded, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

I went straight to my room, eager to see what awaited me. As soon as I opened the door, my eyes were drawn to the beautiful dress laid out across my bed. A note was placed delicately on top, reading, "For tonight - Mr. Sturniolo."

I picked up the dress, admiring its elegance and the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. With a smile, I started getting ready for what promised to be an unforgettable evening.

As the clock ticked closer to 8 PM, I finished getting ready, carefully putting on the dress Mr. Sturniolo had left for me. It fit perfectly, making me feel more confident and excited for the evening.

I made my way downstairs, where Mr. Sturniolo was already waiting. He looked up as I entered the room, a pleased smile spreading across his face. "You look stunning, Valoree," he said, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than usual.

"Thank you, sir," I replied, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.

We headed to the dining room, where a beautifully set table awaited us. The ambiance was perfect, with soft lighting and a hint of music playing in the background. As we sat down, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation for what the night would bring.

Throughout dinner, Mr. Sturniolo shared the information he had mentioned earlier, discussing various topics and plans. The conversation flowed easily, and I found myself more drawn to him with each passing moment. Dinner began with a light appetizer, and as we started eating, Mr. Sturniolo poured us each a glass of wine. He raised his glass, and I followed suit.

"To a successful evening," I echoed, clinking my glass against his. The wine was delicious, and it wasn't long before I felt its warmth spreading through me.

"So, Valoree, tell me more about yourself," he began, his tone casual but genuinely interested. "We've worked together for a while, but I feel like there's still so much I don't know about you."

I smiled, feeling a bit more at ease with the alcohol loosening my nerves. "Well, there's not much to tell, really. I grew up in a small town, always dreamed of coming to the city. I guess you could say I'm still adjusting to the fast pace of it all."

He nodded thoughtfully. "The city can be overwhelming, but it has its charms. What's been the biggest adjustment for you?"

"Probably the noise," I admitted with a laugh. "Back home, it was so quiet at night. Here, there's always something happening. It took me a while to get used to it."

"I can imagine," he said, refilling our glasses. "But you've adapted well. You're doing a great job here."

"Thank you, sir," I said, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the wine. "I really appreciate that."

"Please, call me Chris," he insisted, a playful smile on his lips. "We're off the clock now."

"Alright, Chris," I said, testing the name on my tongue. It felt strange but good. "What about you? What's your story?"

He leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine thoughtfully. "Oh, where to begin? I grew up here, in the city. Always knew I wanted to go into business. It's been a long journey, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Any regrets?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Not many," he said after a moment. "But if I had to pick one, it would be not taking enough time to enjoy the little things. Life moves fast, and sometimes I forget to slow down."

We continued to talk, the conversation flowing easily as the wine continued to flow. We shared stories, laughed, and learned more about each other. I found myself drawn to his confidence, his intelligence, and the way he seemed to genuinely care about what I had to say.

As the night wore on, we both became a bit more relaxed, our words slurring slightly as the alcohol took its toll. At one point, he reached across the table, his hand brushing against mine. "I'm really glad we did this, Valoree," he said softly. "It's been a long time since I enjoyed myself this much."

"Me too," I replied, my heart racing at his touch. "It's been a wonderful evening."

We continued to talk, our voices growing softer as the night deepened. The connection between us felt stronger with each passing moment.

“Why don’t we go to my room. It’s much more comfortable in there” He spoke suddenly breaking off my thoughts.

“Oh- okay,” I giggled slightly, the alcohol in my system making me giggle more than usual. I got up, stumbling over my feet a little. We headed into his room through the wide, large doors. He stepped aside, letting me enter first. His room was simple yet inviting, decorated in shades of grey, white, and black. It was casual, just like him. The bed was neatly made, and the floor was spotless. A warm, comforting scent of burning wood filled the air, wrapping me in a sense of coziness.

"It's not often we're alone together," he began, moving beside me to catch a glimpse of my profile. "I've had a fantastic evening with you. It's been a while since I could just relax and have some fun."

I turned slightly to face him. "I'm thrilled you enjoyed your time as much as I did. Dinner was incredible," I beamed. "I didn't know you cooked." He chuckled softly. "I don't. Not often, really." I nodded.

"You look stunning as well." He gazed into my eyes, a fiery passion lighting up the room. I glanced down, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. I nervously bit my lip, a telltale sign of my unease.

"Thank you. You've got great taste," I playfully replied. He stepped closer, sweeping my curls over my shoulder. I observed his face as he inched nearer to me.

"I couldn't picture anyone else in this dress but you. A true doll," he whispered, leaning in by my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.

He pulled me closer to his body, wrapping his arm around my torso. “But you’d look much better…” he trailed off, his fingertips delicately tracing the edge of my ribbon. With a swift, practiced motion, he undid the knot, letting the dress flow as it slipped slightly. “With it off.”

I gasped as the cold air kissed my back, making me shiver. I jumped slightly, instinctively clinging to his warm body for comfort. His hands found my bare back, gliding down with a gentle but possessive touch.

“Just as I imagined. Even more beautiful.” He leaned his head back, locking eyes with me, his gaze filled with admiration and desire.

I opened my mouth, ready to speak, but the room was met with silence, too shocked to form words. I blinked a few times, trying to gather my thoughts. “Chris…” I began, my voice barely a whisper. Maybe it was all the alcohol he had consumed moments before that made him feel so powerful.

“Hm?” he questioned, his eyes dark with intent. His lips met my neck, quickly tracing kisses down to my shoulder. His lips were soft and delicate, treating my skin as if it were fragile paper. Carefully caressing me, he massaged my skin with a tenderness that sent shivers down my spine. I gasped from the sensation, his lips tracing around me, igniting a fire of pure lust within.

I pulled my body towards him, caught in the intensity of the moment. It was unprofessional to kiss your boss, I knew that, but I couldn’t stop myself. My heart raced as I found his face, gently pulling it closer.

I kissed him lightly, our lips brushing softly. “Was that okay?” I asked, my voice trembling with anticipation. “Sweetheart, that’s all I’ve been wanting all night,” he replied, his voice husky with desire.

I pulled my body towards him once more, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss. A soft moan escaped me as our tongues danced together, a fiery sensation enveloping us. Lost in the intensity, my fingers tangled in his hair, pulling gently. His hands explored every inch of my body, tracing my curves with a burning desire.

Slowly, I began unbuttoning his crisp white shirt, careful not to damage the delicate fabric. As I slipped it off, I couldn't help but admire his perfectly toned chest, the faint outline of a six-pack and the alluring V-line peeking from his trousers. He was breathtakingly beautiful.

I looked up at his face again, my eyes tracing every detail of his striking features. His chiseled jaw, the sparkle in his eyes, the way his lips curved into a gentle smile—all of it captivated me. I couldn't help but smile back at him. "You're very handsome," I whispered, my voice barely audible. His smile widened, and he brought his hand to my cheek, his touch gentle and warm. "Thank you," he murmured, before pulling me in for another kiss.

Our lips met, moving in perfect harmony, each kiss deepening our connection. Suddenly, I felt his hands slide under me, lifting me effortlessly. I gasped, caught off guard by his strength and the sudden movement.

He carried me effortlessly, his strength evident in the way he held me close. I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. He walked us to the bed, gently laying me down. His eyes never left mine, filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, "I want to make this moment unforgettable." His words sent shivers down my spine. As he began to explore my body with his hands and lips, every touch felt electric, igniting a fire within me. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us, lost in each other.

He began trailing light feather like kisses down my body. Placing each kiss with love I couldn’t help but feel the wetness between my legs. I bit my lip suppressing the sound.

He placed a kiss right above my heat, his lips leaving a trail of fire on my skin. His fingers moved slowly, teasingly, towards my folds. I couldn't help but thrust my hips slightly, desperate for any touch. "Be patient, doll, okay? Can you do that?" he whispered, his voice husky with desire. I nodded eagerly, my breath hitching. "Yes, I can," I replied, my voice trembling with anticipation. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the moment, savoring every sensation he bestowed upon me. Each touch, each kiss, sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body, making me crave more.

He slowly pulled my legs apart, his eyes never leaving my face. I could feel the intensity of his gaze, a hard stare that made my heart race. Not daring to look at him, I swallowed hard, my breath catching in my throat. Suddenly, I gasped as I felt his mouth attach to my lips, the sensation overwhelming. "Oh—Chris... mm," I whimpered softly, the sound barely escaping my lips. It had been so long since I felt this way with a partner. Life had kept me so busy that I never had time to find someone, and now, every touch, every kiss, felt like a rediscovery of forgotten pleasure.

"Does that feel good, doll?" he asked, his voice low and filled with desire. I nodded, barely able to form any words, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I felt his hair brush against the inner part of my thigh, tickling me slightly and adding to the overwhelming sensations. My body twitched, overpowered by the intensity of the feelings. His tongue lapped up every drop that pooled from me, making it nearly impossible to keep my composure. His tongue moved at a fast pace, expertly working its magic. I sighed deeply, the pleasure coursing through me like a wave, each stroke of his tongue sending shivers down my spine.

I felt his fingers enter into me slowly. Gasping at the feeling i exhaled loudly. “Oh my.. Chris please. Please don’t stop.” I begged and whimper pathetically. I tugged on his hair as he sucked at flicked at my clit. His fingers pushing in and out of me like a machine.

He rubbed my clit slowly in small circles. As he began working his fingers I felt small kisses being placed on my thighs. We were truly making love.

I was so close to coming undone, I was sure he could tell by the way my legs shook slightly. As I felt my legs begin to close instinctively, he grabbed me with his free hand, firmly forcing them to stay open. A whimper escaped my lips, my mouth hanging open as I struggled to hold back. The tension in my body built up, every nerve ending on fire, as his touch drove me closer to the edge.

"Chris, Chris, Chris," I chanted his name over and over, my voice growing more desperate with each repetition. My breaths came heavily and hard, my chest rising and falling rapidly. Suddenly, I felt the inside of my stomach explode with a rush of intense pleasure, the sensation radiating outwards. Every ounce of tension that had built up within me released all at once, leaving me trembling and breathless, my body finally succumbing to the overwhelming ecstasy.

I sighed, beginning to catch my breath. I sat up slightly, resting my body on my elbows. I looked at Chris as he licked his lips, savoring the taste. "Tastes sweeter than I imagined, doll," he chuckled. I smiled at him and wiped my forehead. "I'm glad you enjoyed that as much as I did." I gazed into his eyes, which sparkled with charm as he smiled at me. He pulled my face closer to his and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. "I'll go run you a bath. When you're out, I'll have a change of clothes laid out. Sleep in here with me tonight," he explained.

I couldn't help but smile, truly grateful for him and every experience he had shown me tonight. "Thank you, you don't have to do all that. And I can stay in my room, it's totally fine." He shook his head in protest. "No, I want you here with me. I just want to make sure you get a good rest and feel better."

I walked to the bathroom and sank into the tub, letting the warm water envelop me completely. The soothing soap bubbles caressed my skin, and I felt every muscle in my body relax. I had never been the type of girl to go crazy over love, but Chris had shown me something different. His gentle and caring tenderness made me realize how wonderful it feels to be treated with such love. As I lay there, soaking in the warmth, I couldn't help but feel grateful for him and the beautiful moments we shared.

𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚ 𐙚₊˚⊹ 𐙚₊˚

Tag list - @shaquilles-0atmeal @monroesturnns @blahbel668 @mattssluttywaist @jetaimevous

[unhingedangstaddict]

Currently working on my own fix-it fic but man this shit is harder than I thought it'd be- I keep crying and then getting distracted reading other fix-it fics. Thought I'd share this snippet to hopefully motivate myself to keep going???

Hen was starting to wonder if maybe Tommy was out for a run when she heard a faint ‘oh shit’ from inside the house. She banged on the door again. “Come on Kinard! I know you’re in there!” She called out. If Tommy’s neighbors thought she was crazy, oh well, too bad. Hen really didn’t care.

Finally the door was opened by Tommy. His hair was a mess- sticking up as though he’d been running his hands through it far too much-, he had deep dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, his eyes were puffy from crying, and frankly, he looked like shit. “What do you want, Hen?” Tommy rasped. Whether his voice was hoarse due to dehydration or yelling and/or crying was unclear.

“To talk about what happened last night.” Hen crossed her arms.

“You mean you’re here to yell at me for what I did?" Tommy guessed. He hadn't forgotten the thinly veiled shovel talk from Hen and Karen months back at the medal ceremony- he wasn't surprised Hen was here now. “Trust me I hate myself for it enough. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already thought about myself.”

“No. I’m here to try and understand what even happened. According to Eddie, Buck wasn’t making very much sense last night. Eddie would’ve come himself to check on you but he’s got Buck right now. Eddie’s worried about you and frankly, I am too.”

Tommy sighed deeply and stepped aside to let Hen into the house.

Soon they were sitting at Tommy’s kitchen table with mugs of coffee in hand.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened or are you just gonna keep having that staring contest with your coffee?” Hen questioned.

“He asked me to move in with him.” Tommy admitted quietly.

“Okay,” Hen said slowly, waiting for Tommy to explain further why he was upset by it. Beyond the obvious matter of Buck leasing his loft apartment and Tommy owning his house, Hen wasn’t sure what the issue was.

“For a split second, I thought about saying yes.” Tommy confessed. “Then I returned to reality and realized I had to end it.”

“But why?” Hen questioned.

“Even if it was only for a second, Hen, I was ready to, what? Sell my house and more than half my stuff to move in with him? I’m not even mad about that part- I’m upset with myself for considering it. I’ve been in Evan’s position before, first gay relationship, lovesick, you think it’s gonna last forever. And I’ve been the first for guys before too. Like I told Evan last night, I know how it ends. And I guess I’d rather break my own heart than wait around for Evan to do it.”

“If you’ve been so sure all this time that it could never work, why did it take until now for you to call things off?” Hen questioned.

“I think from the start I knew I was playing with fire. After the last guy I was a first for, I told myself I wasn’t going to do it anymore. Then I met Evan, and he was just so magnetic, I couldn’t stay away even if I wanted to. I couldn't say no to him. I think I always knew my heart would get broken, and I guess I was okay with that all this time, until last night when I realized I love him, and I knew I had to cut myself off before I reached a point of no return.” Tommy explained. “I mean, I’m a fucking a mess right now and I was the one who called it off. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to survive him ending it.”

“Did you really just figure out last night that you love him?” Hen asked.

“I guess I sorta loved him from the start but last night was different, Hen. I’m in love with him, like well and truly love him, in a way I’ve never felt before, about anyone.” Tears filled Tommy’s eyes. “And I’m just his first. And as badly as I want it, I know I don’t get to be his last.”

“What makes you so sure you can’t be his last?” Hen wondered.

“Because I’m not the forever guy." Tommy shrugged slightly as a tear finally escaped and slid down his cheek. "At best I’m the close-to-but-never-quite-enough guy."

[faithhearted]

While some women might think that Ben’s attention to safety detail was a turn-off, Rebekah found the quirk rather endearing, and funny in an adorable way. Of course, she might still fall under the biased category. Were it any other man, would she still have that stance? 

“We could spin you in bubble wrap beforehand, if it’ll make you feel better,” she quipped with a grin, “Or you could wear a helmet and some knee and elbow pads.” 

Fortunately, the counter idea seemed to appeal to Ben. Suddenly she was glad that she’d added the suggestion at the last minute. Bekah considered making a lube jest pertaining to the butter, but ultimately decided against it. No need to risk making things awkward again because a joke didn’t land right. Better to quit while she was ahead. 

That mattered little, because the reminder of how many times they had left to ‘do the deed’ over the weekend came next, the air suddenly became uncomfortable, but she couldn’t determine if it was because Ben was embarrassed to talk about it, or if it was just because it concerned her – and she hadn’t even mentioned the round they’d need to do Sunday morning before her drive home. 

At the very least, he agreed that they should talk about where they liked to be touched – however cumbersome it seemed. 

"What you did earlier was really nice, too...when you were kissing along my...ah..." Ben gestured to his midriff, prompting Bekah’s cheeks to heat up quicker than the sun’s surface. "The whole touching everywhere but there angle is always a little maddening."

“Right. Okay. Good.”

Those three words were all she could manage as she stared down at the flimsy list and tried not to think about the feel of his skin against her lips, the alluring dip where his hip and groin were joined, and the way his abdomen tightened and his chest rose and fell when she’d gone lower. 

Heat pooled in her lower half and she shifted on her stool, underlining their names just to give herself something else to focus on. His self-conscious laugh caught her attention and she was surprised to find him leaning closer. 

"Is it bad that this is kind of turning me on?" 

Had she forgotten how to breathe for a hot second?

C’mon, Bekah. In, then out. Wait. Bad wording choice…

“S-seriously?” she asked, managing a lopsided smile of disbelief. 

"God, I don't know if I can take much more of this, Beks...our list is like a submission to Penthouse." He flung up a hand faster than she could respond. "Er...not that I've ever read that, of course, but...there's only so much a guy can listen to before he starts getting unraveled. Alas, it would seem all men truly are the same."

With a sigh, Bekah set the pen down and placed her hands on the counter, consigning to abandon the list, at least for the time being. It was too hard to concentrate when Ben was so close, especially when all she wanted to do was hold him in her arms again.

God, she was pathetic, wasn’t she? 

"What about you?" he asked, "Where do you want to be touched?"

“Um…” 

Speak, you fool! Enough with the ridiculously long pauses! 

“Your work on my inner thigh was kind of nice,” she admitted, hopelessly pink cheeked, “But really, just about anywhere works.” 

It was the truth. It didn’t matter at all where he touched her because every bit of contact from him was wanted. 

“Okay, you know what?” she sighed again, rising from the stool and mustering up a bit of confidence, “Nix the planning. Maybe spontaneity is a better idea. How about, when we’re with each other, you have my full permission to initiate sex whenever, wherever, and we can go from there? I think as long as we keep communicating, it could work.” 

It would be sort of like they were together, but with the sole purpose of having a child rather than a normal functioning relationship. That would be simple enough, right? Regardless, she was going to keep telling herself that. 

“Like I said before, you’re my friend and I trust you completely– so much so that I asked you to do this. That means I also trust you with my body. No more addressing the elephant in the room. We’ll treat these weekends like they are: two friends with unconventional benefits.”   

Did that sound weird? Was she making this worse? 

Recalling that he’d said he was mildly turned on by their conversation, Bekah made the bold choice of edging closer to him, placing her hands on his arms and pressing her lower half against his thigh, her eyes wide and flickering with a look of coquettish intentions. 

“Okay?”

Rebekah hummed under her breath, not seeming satisfied with their results. “What about this time around, we try another room, rather than the bed again?" she suggested. "Maybe the shower, or your office?” 

Ben smirked. "Call it the teacher in me, but shower sex is dangerous...I'll consider it if the non-slip mat stays on the floor."

God, was it any wonder he was still single? It wasn't exactly sexy to fall into "safety first!" mode, nor was it appealing to be so logical about something that was decidedly all instinct.

Rebekah hesitated. “Or…even here, on the kitchen counter…”

Ben's eyes snapped up to her face. "Unsanitary, but intriguing. Just make sure my arse stays away from the butter dish, and I might be amenable."

Appearing discomfited, Rebekah said in a rush, “We have to go again at least once tonight and twice tomorrow, so we might as well keep things…interesting?” 

"Three times," Ben echoed, though more to himself than to her. Cheeks pinkening, he rolled his lips inward and nodded, trying not to think too much about her gasps and the feel of her tongue in his mouth. "Yeah, uh...you're right that repetition is key, but the same positions and process aren't. Laying out precisely what we want might actually make this a little less awkward too, because I'll know I have your explicit permission with every touch."

Rebekah nodded. Her hands twisted the pen in between her fingers, and then she blurted, "W-where do you like to be touched? Your weak spots, I mean..."

Ben exhaled, shifting in his seat. "Um...the usual spots, I'd say. The neck and below the belt are always winners, but I guess that's a given with just about every guy." Here, he hesitated, then added, "What you did earlier was really nice, too...when you were kissing along my...ah..." Awkwardly, he gestured to his midriff. "The whole touching everywhere but there angle is always a little maddening."

Leaning toward her, Ben's face grew impossibly hotter. "Is it bad that this is kind of turning me on?" He ducked his head into his hands, laughing self-consciously. "God, I don't know if I can take much more of this, Beks...our list is like a submission to Penthouse." Quickly, he flung up a hand. "Er...not that I've ever read that, of course, but...there's only so much a guy can listen to before he starts getting unraveled. Alas, it would seem all men truly are the same."

Lowering his hands into his lap, Ben clasped them and watched Rebekah's eyes, fully aware of how indecently close they'd become throughout all this. "What about you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "Where do you want to be touched?"

[kazumist]

EPISODE 28 ✦ PLEASE LOVE ME AT MY WORST

LOVE, MAYBE — A CHILDE SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 1265.

fifteen minutes is almost up; am i about to die?

ajax thoughts wander to all sorts of places as he nervously checks and watches the time move on his wristwatch. as to why he agrees so easily to your request to talk to him—he doesn’t know either. it just felt… right to agree. 

he knows it would pain him to say no to you anyway.

perhaps it was just the small part of him that still hopes. that one little speck in him that hopes this “talk” would mend the rift that had formed between the two of you. it was probably stupid to have such expectations when he was pretty sure you were dead set on your answer to him before.

so it confuses him. why did you want to talk? did you want to just slap it in his face once again? no, you weren’t like that. you would never do something that mean. but that just leads him back to square one: why?

the sound of soft footsteps growing louder alerts ajax, and he takes a deep breath because he knows it’s you. yet he takes a glance to check anyway. there you were, standing before him as he gets the familiar feeling of being starstruck surging through him. keep it together, ajax. he warns himself. 

“hi…” you softly said. 

“hey.”

hey? who the hell says hey nowadays, ajax? get a grip! he mentally scolds himself, forcing him to pull out a tight smile to you instead to save him from his embarrassment. meanwhile, you thought otherwise of his reaction. oh god, he probably hates me. he never gives me that smile. it looks so forced. he probably just felt bad and forced himself to meet me out at this hour. your thoughts ran fast inside your mind as you fiddled with your fingers.

“uhm.. i wanted to talk—”

“so why did you want to meet—”

you both paused when you realized you both spoke at the same time. “you go first,” he insisted. but you gestured otherwise and told him, “oh, it’s fine. you can go.”

“i insist. ladies first?”

seeing as this would go nowhere if you just went back and forth like that, you took a deep breath. 

“i love you.”

for the whole day (and the additional fifteen minutes ajax gave you), you thought of many ways on how to approach childe with the topic of what happened before. yet none of those really started with “i love you." the best option you got after thinking so hard actually started with “i’m sorry.” the “i love you” part was supposed to be near the end of the whole monologue you had prepared inside your head.

ajax only stared at you, dumfounded at your words. “shit, sorry, i—that wasn’t how i wanted to start, uhm—” you let out a sigh, a slightly shaky one at that because of your mistake. don’t fuck up this one up and run away again, (name). you mentally took note. but then again, fuck that monologue you prepared beforehand. if you want to do this properly, then it’s better to do this as bare as your emotions could get, right?

taking another deep breath, you decided to speak up again before ajax could. “i’m going to be honest. i actually prepared some long speech that is supposedly transcribed inside my brain right now. but i definitely think i just forgot a good chunk of that speech now that i’m actually with you.” 

“i’m sorry, ajax. i let my fear get the best of me that day. i never wanted to tell you to go away; in fact, i know that i wanted nothing more than for you to hold me at that moment.” you let out a bitter chuckle at that. ajax watches you, listening to every word carefully. he takes in your appearance as well, and the slightly swollen and redness of your eyes were obvious enough for him to know your state as of late.

“i never wanted to push you away. and god, i feel so stupid and guilty for everything that i said that day. because i know none of those were true. well, i guess minus the part where i listed my flaws... because i know those were true in some sense—but i want to—no, nevermind that. i’m trying to change my ways.” you corrected yourself.

“i asked dehya and the others for some advice. and they were right when they said that you had a positive impact on my life and that i’ve never been this happy with someone else other than them. because i swear, you’re just a different case for me, ajax. you make me happy in ways i never thought anyone could bring me joy. when i thought i didn’t have anyone by my side, you were there for me.”

“and i feel so, so, so fucking stupid for shutting you away that day. because deep inside, i knew my heart wanted otherwise. my brain wanted you to leave me alone, but i knew my heart wanted for you to stay. for you to tell me that everything is alright.”

“i guess the main gist of everything that i’m saying is that i love you; i’m sorry. i love you, ajax. and i know i’m probably late, and that you probably hate me right now, and also how you probably just forced yourself outside just so you could meet up with me, but i love you. this whole thing is honestly still scary to me, considering this is the first time i have experienced this in my whole lifespan of eighteen years right now.”

“yet i still love you despite that. i’m sorry that it took me a while. and again, you don’t have to reciprocate it—i just wanted to let this all out. and like i said, you probably hate me—”

“am i allowed to speak now?” ajax.

“i—yeah, go ahead.”

“have i told you that i’m so proud of you?” he asks. you don’t know where he’s going with this. “you might’ve mentioned it once or twice in the past, yeah.” he chuckles at your reply. it feels like your walking on thin ice because you really have no idea if he’s about to drop a bomb right now about him rejecting you.

you don’t think you could handle that anyway.

“thank you, (name). i personally didn’t know what to expect with what you were going to say. but i  don’t hate you. i could never hate you. not now, not ever. hell, i knew that if i said no to your request of having a talk i would definitely regret it. and i’m proud of you that you managed to say all of that. learning how to communicate is a big step already, you know?”

ajax takes a step closer and you didn’t take a step back this time. you let him get close to you this time, fixing the distance that grew after you pushed him away. “and for the record, i love you too” he says, a bit more quietly, as if he really wants only you to hear those words coming from him. “that fact isn’t going to change anytime soon, silly.” 

“i’m sorry again. but i’m ready now. i’m prepared to take a risk in this whole thing they call love. so please love me at my worst, ajax.”

the night ends with ajax walking you home once again—but this time there wasn’t a single residue of the bitterness from before.

this time, it was filled with relief.

extra notes.

yayyyy!!! communication!!!!

i didn't expect for this episode to be so long. i was 700+ words in when i realized that it was going to be a bit lengthy.

taglist (open): @xianyoon @mitsvriii @kizakiss @kissingkzuha @aethion @phtogravi @ell1e2010 @esthelily @b4tm4nn @hcmay @ivvieene @morganadorodo @kaitfae @kentply @scaranthropy @kyon-cherri @kookiibun @kochothehoe @mekiiiii @ibyobi @iuspired @tetsuskei @kunikuzushis-darling @morgyyyyyyy @chluuvr @scaradooche @kissmiere @a1-ic3 @bubblegum-angelquartz @tiredjxnna @levlucs-kiru @angeilix @cerisescherries @saeskiss @a-talkative-corn @briluvspnk @kamisatoyato @bbysatoruuu @viviixoxosblog @bambisz @chemiru @eternal-dokja @bflyprincess @jamieexistss @monocerosei @enjisthings @jangyung @hahalame @cupid-spams @snzhrchy @ukinya @luciledreamz @bisatanica @bananasquash @almond-t0fu @thegalaxyisunfolding @jaguarthecat [1/2]

[himluv]

Ok. Here's my first attempt at writing Lucanis and Spite. This isn't my favorite piece of DA fic I've written, but I had to get it out of system.

Also, I am writing Lucanis as demisexual. That is my accepted headcanon, and I am writing it from personal experience.

Enjoy, I guess? 😂

(below the cut because spoilers?)

Lucanis leaned into his palm where it pressed against the stone just above Rook’s head. He felt drawn to her, pulled across the floor until there was just a feather’s width between them. It was such an infrequent feeling – this wanting – that he almost hadn’t recognized it the first time. Now, the thrum of desire through his body was unmistakable.

But did she feel it too?

“This isn’t a good idea,” he said, offering her a convenient escape route.

She smiled. “Sometimes the bad ideas are best.”

He couldn’t help smiling at that. It seemed she always knew just what to say. Like that night at the cafe. He’d felt a slight thrill at the table, a rush at how easily the conversation volleyed between them. It wasn’t until much later that night, replaying her voice in his head, that he’d ached with realization. She’d been talking about much more than how she liked her coffee.

“You like walking a little too close to the edge.” Again, a warning. He would push, gently, until she saw reason. Because, surely, once she looked close enough, she would turn away.

“So do you.”

She reached for him, and for a moment Lucanis thought she might hook her finger through his lapel chain and tug him toward her. His stomach flipped, his smile widened, and he couldn’t avoid glancing at her lips. Mierda, he wanted to taste her.

But she did not touch him, her hand hovered there at his sternum and a desperate flash of want pulsed through him.

This was dangerous territory. She had no idea just how close to the edge they were. How easy it would be for her to push him off this cliff, and Lucanis would fall helplessly in love.

He looked right at her, his gaze heavy. “At least I know when I’m doing it.”

At the edge of a cliff…

What if he chose to jump?

He closed his eyes, tilted his head and leaned toward her, felt her do the same –

– Crisp air, sunlight on water, smells like trees and magic. Arlathan.

Lucanis’s eyes snapped open and he pulled back so quickly that Rook gave him a startled look.

“I… need to clear my head,” he said. As if he could do such a thing with Spite taking up so much space.

Space, he needed space. Between him and Spite, but also between him and Rook. He needed to breathe. Why did his chest feel so tight?

He stepped away from her, his palm now pressed to his waistcoat as he gave her the tiniest bow. “Excuse me.”

Then he turned and hurried out of the room, ignoring the weight of her gaze on his back. He brushed a hand through his hair, tugged at his waistcoat. Lucanis was not a tall man, but it took surprisingly few strides to cross the dining room and step out into the courtyard. He took a deep, shaky breath and quelled the urge to rub at the constant itch behind his eyes.

This wasn’t like him. He felt jittery, out of control. Perhaps all the coffee mixed with the sleep deprivation had finally gotten to him?

She makes you nervous, Spite sneered.

Lucanis said nothing. There was no point lying to Spite, it would only encourage the demon to keep talking. Instead he headed toward the library balconies – they were the closest thing the Lighthouse had to a rooftop. He needed height. Needed perspective.

Surprisingly, Spite was quiet until Lucanis stood staring out at the blank expanse of the Fade and his heart rate had settled some in his chest.

Finally, the demon asked, why?

Lucanis sighed. “Why what?”

Spite growled, irritated at having to explain himself. Rook. Makes. You. Nervous. WHY?

Lucanis winced as the word rebounded inside his skull. “You don’t have to shout.”

Spite made an unconvinced noise.

“And besides,” Lucanis said. “You know why.”

Make it make sense. We. Like. Rook.

Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose. “A little too much.”

Ahhhhh. Spite sniffed, as if savoring something delicious in the air. Scared.

Another truth he’d have to let lie between himself and the demon.

Let her in and get cut deep. See inside then turn away. Won’t want you. Oooh, or worse, she does want and then she di–

“Enough!” The word echoed out into the Fade, silencing the demon. “Enough,” Lucanis whispered. He didn’t need Spite to help him overthink all the ways kissing Rook could go wrong.

Want more than that.

The most surprising truth of them all. Lucanis could count the number of people he’d felt genuine attraction for on one hand. The only one he’d ever tried to pursue had misread him so completely he’d just given up.

As much as he longed for romance, he just wasn’t good at it. Love was something meant for characters in novels, or people like Teia and Viago. Not him.

Not love. What?

Before the Ossuary, Lucanis would have had an answer to a question like that. The Crows. House Dellamorte. Mediating peace between Illario’s ambitions and Caterina’s wishes. He liked being a Crow. He was good at it, and had never wanted more, a fact that had vexed Illario and pleased their grandmother.

And it was all gone.

Caterina was dead. In his current state, Lucanis was not fit to take her place as she’d desired. Illario would become First Talon, like he’d always wanted. If Lucanis somehow survived this contract, perhaps House Dellamorte would allow him back. Perhaps the future he and Illario had fantasized as boys might actually come to pass. Perhaps he and Rook…

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps! Bah!

Lucanis sighed and shook his head. Then he and the demon walked back to the dining hall in silence. And in that silence was another, terrifying truth.

For the first time in his life, Lucanis Dellamorte didn't know what his future held.

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 53/54

Prev | Next

Danny hugged Sam and Tucker. He would miss his friends, but there was no reason to stay. His dad and family were in the other dimension. Besides, even when they destroyed the portal, they could visit with Wulf's help.

Ghostwriter, who had been stuck in the thermos with Danny, had said he would look for Wulf so that they could facilitate communication between the friends. The other ghost had gone through the portal when they let him go to tell Raven they were fine and not to call other heroes.

Thank the Ancients he did because if time was slower in Danny’s home dimension, who knows how long it’s been in the other dimension? He didn’t want Auntie Raven freaking out. They already had to think of something to explain Danny’s disappearance. They didn’t need to add heroes to the mix.

They all went to the basement. Danny was wary; he didn’t want to see the Fentons’ bodies.

He was thankful Talia had cleaned up well. There wasn’t even blood on the floors. He did idly wonder where she hid the bodies.

Don’t think about it.

“We’ll miss you, Danny, but I’m glad you found a parent that cares about you,” Sam said as she hugged him again.

“Yeah, dude, you deserve some happiness. And who knows, you might have caught up to our age again the next time we see each other. You’re so shrimpy right now,” Tucker teased.

“Hardy, har-har, Tucker.”

His friends grinned, and Danny couldn’t help but give one of his own.

“We’ll wait for Wulf. We can trade letters or try to visit each other in the Ghost Zone,” Sam said with a sad smile. “It’s not goodbye. It’s an ‘I’ll see you later’ type of deal.”

Danny nodded, “I’ll miss you guys, but…”

Danny turned to look at his dad. He was standing by Talia and Jazz. Talia was tucking Jazz’s hair behind her ear and telling her something. Jazz’s eyes were still red. Danny couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Jazz had killed the Fentons to save him. It was his fault.

Talia had a maternal air around her as she continued talking to Jazz. Maybe he should accept her, not as his grandmother but as part of his family. She seemed to be helping Jazz after—after what happened.

Sam brought Danny back to the present.

“Live your best life; it sounds like you’re in a great dimension.”

“It has problems, but at least I’ll be more accepted with my powers. And the best part is, no GIW or Vlad!”

“I wonder what he’s going to do when he finds out Maddie is, well, you know,” Tucker said.

Danny tried not to think about it. He ignored the renewed sense of guilt at the thought of the Fentons’ deaths.

“You guys should go; we’re going to blow up this place and the portal. We don’t want anyone to think it was your fault.”

They hugged one last time, and then they were gone. It saddened Danny to see his friends leave, but he didn’t regret his decision. Besides, it was, as Sam said, it wasn’t goodbye.

“Are you sure about this, Danny lad? We can stay here. I have no problem leaving it all behind and, umph.”

Danny had tackled his father, “You’re silly, dad. I’ll miss my friends, but we can always visit. This dimension has left a bad taste in my mouth. I’d rather be home.”

Danny saw Batman and Nightwing’s tense shoulders relax from the corner of his eyes. Danny ignored them. They had been the main cause of his dad’s pain.

“Danny, chum, stop.”

“I’m not doing anything, daddy,” Danny said innocently. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t completely ignoring the two men. And maybe glaring at one of the founding members of the Justice League with glowing eyes wasn’t the best idea, but he couldn’t help it.

Dad laughed and hugged Danny, “I love you, chum, so much.”

“I love you, too.”

“I hate to break up this sweet father-son moment, but it’s time to leave,” Jazz said in a hollow voice, “I set the portal to blow up in ten minutes. That should give us enough time to get far enough away from it.”

“And you’re sure this explosion will stay isolated to the basement,” Batman asked. Which okay, it was a valid question, but why couldn’t someone less annoying have asked?

Jazz turned toward him, “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll only take out the basement and the portal. Nothing or no one else will be affected. Also, I know that you copied the data on the computer. I want to receive a copy. And that isn’t up to negotiation, Batman.”

“Busted,” Nightwing murmured.

“Seriously, old man?” Danny grinned at his dad’s pissed-off tone.

“Of course, I’m…sorry that I didn’t ask before doing so.”

“Somehow, I doubt that. Let’s go.”

Dad glared at Batman one last time before walking through the portal. It was time to go home.

____

Jazz drank a hot cup of tea as she watched the sun move across the sky. Ellie was sleeping beside her in a baby bouncer.

Thankfully, by the time they returned home, they had only been gone the whole night and part of the morning. They had made up a story about looking for Danny in the woods behind the school all night and having found him. The official story was that Danny had followed a kitten into the woods and gotten lost. It hurt Danny’s pride a little, but they had to come up with something.

The police had notified the school officials, and by midday, everyone knew Danny had been found.

Even Avril had shown up to make sure they had been fine.

“I’m so glad little Danny is well,” she crouched down to Danny, “Don’t follow animals into the woods anymore, sweetie; it could have ended so much worse. Oh, Sarah was so worried.”

Jazz couldn’t tell if the woman was being sincere or not, but they were all too tired to care about her.

After their statement had been taken, the little family went back home. Raven had picked up Ellie, and Jazz had wanted to hold her little girl after the shitty day she had.

They had let Bruce and Dick stay the day so they could rest. Bruce had overstepped his boundaries but still helped get Danny back. He even gave Jazz the drive and asked if he could review the information.

Jazz and Jason could let the two men rest at their home.

Jazz had been too restless to sleep, so she had offered her bed to Dick while Bruce had taken Jason’s. Jason had gone to sleep with Danny in Danny’s room. Raven had gone home but promised to return with Roy and Lian the next day.

Jazz took another sip of her tea, Ellie’s soft snores calming her nerves.

She let time pass her by without any real thoughts, which was her excuse for not noticing Talia until she put something wrapped in a white cloth in front of her.

It took Jazz a moment to recognize the shape of the item. It was a knife. Jazz’s blood ran cold.

“I doubt you would want to keep it, but I had to ask before taking that decision away from you,” Talia said.

Jazz took the wrapped dagger in her hands. Although it was clean, she swore she saw red specks on the cloth.

“It’s Danny’s; you should ask him.”

Coward, she thought to herself, making Danny decide is a cowardly move.

Talia put her manicured hand on top of Jazz’s, “It’s yours now, Jasmine. I can take it away, and you’ll never see it again, but you have to decide.”

For a while, only Ellie’s soft snores punctured the silence.

Jazz put the dagger down.

“I want to keep it, as weird as it sounds.”

That dagger was her partner in crime. Probably the only other thing that could understand her. After all, it had helped Jazz take Jack Fenton’s life.

Jazz tried not to think too deeply about her keeping a souvenir of her first kill.

She laughed hysterically: did she really think ‘first?’

Talia squeezed Jazz’s hand. “Jasmine, I am not a perfect mother or person, but I want to be here for you. I want to help you through this.”

Jazz looked at Talia and said sincerely, “You have helped me. Thank you.”

She got up and hugged the woman. Talia tensed with surprise before putting her arms around Jazz.

Jazz would get through this. She could try to find a therapist who specialized in PTSD, or she could ask Talia to find one who wouldn’t report her to the authorities and lock her up.

She would not let this consume her. Jazz had her future ahead of her; the Fentons had taken enough of her past, and they would not have her future either.

Hey everyone, just one more chapter to go through, and I'll finish this fic. I actually have tears in my eyes. I can't believe it's almost over 😭

[blarefordaglare]

The Motivational Fight Fic

Some LUFAU crack (but treated seriously) to motivate my good friend @kikker-oma to make the Sky V. Time comic (healthy motivation, not pressure motivation just to make this clear. It would be very hypocritical, and rude of me to do that)

or I stole your idea, cracked and angsted it at the same time, and giving it back because theft is bad.

oh and TW swearing, kinda blood but not really it’s like mentioned once, and like some family fighting

Oh this is also pre LU when all of them come together, so this is only Sky, Four, and Time (I separate them timeline wise in the beginning, before it breaks, then I take some creative liberties. But it is just these three)

BONUS: SPOT THE NEGATIVE COPING STRATEGIES! THERE’S THREE I TRIED TO IMPLY BECAUSE THERE IS ONE EACH OTHER(well not really for Time)

___

Sky trusted the old man. Out of all his future incarnations, the Hero of Time seemed the wisest. The way his eyes bore a hidden sadness that was warped and shaped into maturity proved his thoughts right. The green on the other’s wings was calming, and the design shown a satisfactory, full life, not a cheerful one. 

His wings, on the other hand, bore a bright red with youth. He wasn’t quite sure why all (if not, most) Skyloftians achieved wings after descending to Hyrule; He had his theories though. Perhaps it was due to the fact Hylia would need to find a hero again, and the flashy color would alert her against the vast world of-

Right. Back to Time. If there was one thing he knew about the color green, it clashed with red. 

“Benched?! Why?” 

Time pinched the bridge of his nose, Sky could sense the telltale signs of exhaustion coursing through his veins, yet he didn’t really care. It wasn’t fair, so why should he feel empathy? “For the last time, Sky,” He lifted his head back up, one of his eyes still half lidded, a trait he noticed form when he first met the man, “You’re not being benched. There’s stuff you don’t know yet, that-“ He hesitated.

“Smith,” the shorter quickly whispered back, giving a faux-apologetic look to the chosen hero.

“That Smith and I do know, and that’s okay, but-“ 

“But I want to come too. I want to know now.” One thing he would never admit is that, ironically, he hated secrets. Not that killing a god and cursing his home was that big of one-it was quite minuscule probably. Most likely. They wouldn’t know. “It’s not fair if you’re gonna leave me out. Plus, you may need me,” the frustration in his body fizzed towards his tongue, “You’re back gives out quite a bit, I can tell.” 

“That was completely uncalled for, especially for an arrogant child like yourself.”

The chosen hero raised his foot to step back, but last minute decided to go forward. He made sure to ignore the resulting fumble, “Arrogant?! As if you would know the difference. You probably can’t tell a pumpkin from a bird.” 

“Guys…” the Smith hastily stepped in between the two, holding his arms out as a barrier, “Let’s not fight.” 

The following, loud, “No!” did not help ease the tension. He took a step back, a sense of being overwhelmed shooting through him and begging to be forgotten. Maybe he should forge new weapon, just in case if another hero came along who didn’t have one. 

“You probably should watch your tongue, you know what happens to children who talk back.” 

The way Time’s wings pulsed when he emphasized the c-word was enough to fuel the Skyloftian’s own fury. It was as if the red in his wings was growing, spreading up his neck and to his face, hardening it with Hylian anger. 

“Bitch, YOU SHOULD WATCH YOUR FACE!” He reached his hands out, the rapid motion making it impossible for even him to see, “I will fucking KILL YOU. I have the GODDESS on my side, beat that!” 

“I’M MARRIED TO A WOMEN WHO COULD SKEWER THE GODDESS AND COOK HER FOR DINNER, YOU’RE NOT SPECIAL.” 

“I NEVER SAID I WAS, STOP ASSUMING THINGS OF ME!” His arms reached out again, grabbing the metal plating on Time’s humerus, gripping it with his fingernails until they bent over, blood pooling on the edges from stress, yet he continued the relentless grip. He tried to push him down, yet the heavy metal kept him balanced on his feet. 

The smith didn’t even try to engage anymore, it was probably fine. He looked over to the cave in the distance, the one that was supposed to lead him and time to the forest. He wondered what was out there. 

Time’s next words were surprisingly… calm? No, that wasn’t the right word. They were sharp, yet quiet, “Let go of me, Sky.” The look on his eyes bore disappointment, the open lid slightly lowering, along with his jaw locking in a neutral expression, “You’re acting out.” 

Sky stared into those eyes (or rather, eye) for a second, attempting to nonverbally induce the challenge, yet the man wouldn’t back down. With a grumble, he forcefully released the grip, slapping his arms down to a resting position. 

His eyes still didn’t look fine, the older  could notice. He looked over to the smith, motioning for him to come, yet he couldn’t just leave him like this. It would be cruel. He deserved a chance at calming down, so when he comes back they could talk.

Digging into his pouch, he found some candy, a recipe Malon created herself from some local honey she came across at the market. He hoped a handful would be enough to suffice the boy, “Here, it tastes good, you’ll feel better, I promise.” He gave an awkward smile, then quickly walked off back into the cave.

Sky may have never learned the sword-splitting events that happened in that forest, but he didn’t need to. He was okay now, but his nails hurt. 

[feralcoffeebug]

i saw in the tags of ur new fic that hua cheng has BPD in ur hcs…. if ur willing to talk abt it id love to hear abt it 🙏

Hi!!! Ofc I’d love to talk about it.

So Hua Cheng is one of the characters that I hold super dear to my heart, in that fic he wasn’t quite old enough for the actual symptoms to start showing in ways that would be super obvious hence the whole “it’s not really shown/explored here” that I mentioned. But! Let’s get into it!

There are 3 suspected subtypes for BPD, not really “officially” used in the dsm5 but! Hua Cheng fits Really Well for quiet BPD, which is often where the symptoms are more internalized rather than outward. As a child and teen when he was the little boy and little soldier the BPD symptoms are more outward, as is extremely common for people with quiet BPD that they do not start with this presentation of symptoms.

Since I love researching especially for my headcannons this will have me pulling from the DSM and using that lol. Sorry if this isn’t quite what you wanted! Feel free to send another ask in that case! I love answering questions haha.

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE NOVELS

The diagnostic criteria means you need 5 of the main 9 symptoms of BPD to be diagnosed with it. A lot of these behaviors start around 13, HOWEVER it is very difficult to diagnose in children and teens due to regular hormonal changes and a developing mind can often mimic the same instability that comes along with BPD. Please do not use this as something to diagnose yourself.

Hua Cheng, as he is, meets a few of the symptoms. I’ll go symptom by symptom to explain them a bit more

1. Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment (not including sh or sui behaviors as it is covered in a different criteria).

Throughout TGCF Hua Cheng often spends a lot of him time attempting to be useful or good enough for Xie Lian, He gets very anxious and fearful around areas that might make Xie Lian leave him or be disgusted by him.

As Hong’er, he often changes entire things about himself with just a small off-hand comment from Xie Lian. He picked up the saber and focused on it because Xie Lian told him that he would suit it well. He panicked every single time someone tried to remove the bandages covering his red eye because he knew that it was something a lot of people hated or treated him badly for and was disgusted by, and he didn’t want Xie Lian to see it. When Xie Lian found out about the fact that he was born under the star of solitude and that meant he was cursed he had a breakdown about it, only calming down when Xie Lian assured him that he was believed that he wasn’t cursed. He showed anger at anyone else where for Xie Lian he would do anything (except talk haha)

I can’t say much about Wu Ming or him as a ghost fire; mostly due to not having gotten to his chapters yet. But my brain wants to use the part with the 33 heavenly officials and his anger at Feng Xin and Mu Qing as proof as well. Along with his devotion to Xie Lian.

As Hua Cheng, he often looks to Xie Lian when he’s not sure what he will think of things, often changing his likes and dislikes when it comes to him. He changed his form to be one that Xie Lian might have liked more, being extremely insecure about his true form while trying to play it off that he was ugly, which obviously Xie Lian didn’t agree with. And once he saw that Xie Lian wasn’t as disgusted by his actual form he uses it more often along with (At least in the manghua) he incorporates some parts of it in his San Lang form.

All in all, usually he sees things that could displease Xie Lian as being bad, and I believe this comes from a place of fearing abandonment by Xie Lian.

2. A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation

This symptom is a hallmark of the disorder, and most of the other symptoms are what leads to this symptom to showing up. For Hua Cheng, his relationship with Xie Lian is pretty constant and in this context he would be his Favorite Person (FP) (will be discussed later) but his relationship with others are far more unstable. He goes between not caring for those he barely knows to being extremely angry and vindictive if they even so much seem as if they are insulting or disrespecting XL. He also seems to not have very steady relations with those he is simi closer to than strangers (such as yin yu and black water, the only two that, outside of XL, he has around him decently often enough, which honestly probably shows more so that he is attached to Xie Lian like a person with Bpd is to their FP). His opinion of those people seems to be very dependent on how they’re effecting his current situations as they happen, at least from what I’ve seen myself. He also holds very little regard for people outside of Xie Lian, which honestly might point to something like ASPD or something but in my opinion HC fits BPD more so than the other one but I could see the argument for it.

His unstable relationship mostly goes in relation of himself and his self image, which are very dependent on Xie Lian.

3. Identity disturbance: marked and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self.

For this criteria, this mostly means changes in personality, likes, dislikes, goals, and role. Often the only sense of self people with BPD have is that they are bad or evil, which we see a lot in Hua Cheng, his view of himself is very negative. He often does not feel as if he deserves to be treated nicely by Xie Lian.

4. Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentionally self-damaging (e.g. spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating. Not including sh or sui behaviors.

Idk why for this one specifically but in my heart I feel like he is very impulsive even outside life or death situations. I cannot for the life of me recall why right now

One of them is him betting his ashes in the fight with the 33 gods, while that could be seen as him being confident in his ability to win it is still very dangerous. I’m unsure if this would count as impulsive or just sui behavior lmao.

5. Recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, or threats, or self-mutilating behavior.

As Hong’er, He was going up the wall to die. Not only that but when he was in the army he often put his life on the line specifically trying to protect Xie Lian, to the point that Feng Xin mentioned offhand that it seemed like he had a death wish and that he had no concern for his own life. All of Hua Cheng’s deaths actively involve dying for Xie Lian, as he decided to live for the man as well.

6. Affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (e.g. intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days).

Hua Cheng’s mood often shifts very quickly from extremes, there seems to be very little grey area for his moods. Often times, he is happy and content only for a small thing to bring his ire and anger, especially when it comes to his time with Xie Lian. This is often set inwards, anger at himself for not being able to protect him. But this also is directed at others as well as seen by his reactions when Feng Xin and Mu Qing show up.

7.Chronic feelings of emptiness.

In my headcannons this is very true. He is often bored, he often acts very bored in the donghua when something doesn’t have to do with Xie Lian.

8. Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger.

I don’t know about you, but I think a lot of Hua Cheng’s emotions include anger. He hits He Xuan because of a situation that endangers Xie Lian. He is known for getting into fights over small things. He killed 33 gods for simply disrespecting Xie Lian. He often has outbursts in anger at Mu Qing and Feng Xin, using a lot of sarcasm. These outbursts often happen when Xie Lian isn’t giving him attention or when they are disrespecting/looking down at Xie Lian in some way, shape, or form.

9. Transient, stress-related paranoid idealtion or severe dissociative symptoms

This symptoms often comes up when in response to something that may be relating to possible abandonment. Hua Cheng tends to get more quiet and withdrawn when situations have to do with himself or when something comes up that Xie Lian might hate him over. The topic of E’Ming makes him start to try and move the topic off of it’s emotional responses, when he hurt Xie Lian he gets quiet and stares where Xie Lian left for a long while, getting quiet when Xie Lian apologizes for the situation before nearly crying over it and apologizing over it.

Now, a lot of the reasons behind why I say a character has a mental illness usually does not come from what criteria they meet, but I felt that explaining what could possibly meet what criteria is a fun way to get the conversation started. A lot of BPD is the mental process that gets the reactions, or what causes the reactions. I’m going to get into the like, less official practical and professional view of BPD and go more into it as someone who shows a lot of BPD esc symptoms and the research I’ve done from other people with the disorder.

In BPD, there is a thing called a Favorite Person, also shorthanded to FP. I mentioned earlier that Xie Lian would be his FP, and I stand by this. Often to a person with BPD their FP is everything to them. Their emotional wellbeing and sense of self is often based on the person. It is often very intense and their FP is often what is the root cause of their symptoms showing up. Often FPs are caregivers, friends, crushes, and other things. It can be a very unhealthy relationship for both parties due to the fact that a person with BPD rely heavily on their FP for regulation.

This is something we often see with Hua Cheng and Xie Lian. Hua Cheng relies on Xie Lian for reassurance, taking every grain of it. He does everything in his power to appeal to Xie Lian but also doesn’t mind if Xie Lian doesn’t know about him or hates him as long as he can be useful to him. He also does all he can to get Xie Lian’s attention and praise. He bases a lot of himself and his environment around Xie Lian. I think that the opinion that some of the fandom has of him that “everything revolves around Xie Lian for his character” is a very good example of this. I do not agree with this sentiment, obviously, but it is very common for people with BPD to base almost everything around this FP.

Hua Cheng also wants to spend all of his time around Xie Lian, which is often seen with people with Bpd and their fps.

A lot of this headcannon also has a lot to do with seeing myself in Hua Cheng, seeing behaviors I’ve done for past FPs and even my current FP. I see my relationship with my current FP (which is my boyfriend before anyone asks) in Xie Lian and Hua Cheng. I am a lot more unstable in my relationship with my FP than Hua Cheng is to Xie Lian, but I also feel like Hua Cheng often would turn his anger inward a lot more than I do and fall heavily into self blame for any issues. Along with that, I feel as if Hua Cheng is also pretty inclined to feel as if he overstepped and to internally berate himself for thinking he could have or do or feel whatever unstable emotions and feelings and devaluation towards Xie Lian.

Anyways here’s a small, very tired and sleepy explanation. I’m sorry if none of this makes sense. I just woke up to write this and I’m probably heading to bed.

[eruden-writes]

Intentions - Part 4 (alien x human)

Summary: In the future, humans are nearly universal surrogates and Earth has taken to profiting off the ability. However, while humans can intermix with aliens, it doesn’t mean it’s without complications.

When Taliyra signed up to be a Companion to an alien, she had expectations. Mainly a lot of sex in an attempt to conceive an alien baby. What she didn’t expect was her counterpart to be so distant and - for lack of a better term - relatively hands off. For all intents and purposes, Khravel seems completely disinterested in her and will not hold a discussion to explain why.

After four months of this behavior, she’s had enough. Confronting Khravel, she gives him an ultimatum: either he sits down and talks with her about what the problem is or she’s going back to Proxypanion and requesting a transfer.

---

First - Master list - Previous

---

Khravel’s own wrist tech pinged in response, receiving the data she had sent. However, he didn’t even look at it. He just steadily stared at her, his jaw tight. Bruised ego and guilt threaded through his thoughts, but his words took on a harsher edge as he asked, “Do you believe barging into my office, during my workday, to accuse me of being bad at sex was your best option?”

Frustration flared through Taliyra, annoyed that that was what he took away from her confrontation. Poor sex wasn’t the only issue here and she had a job to do, dammit! She slammed her hands on his desk as she leaned forward, a frown etching further across her lips. She met his eyes head-on, her gaze not wavering from his face. “I wouldn’t have to corner you in your office if you’d talk to me during out nighttime meetings.”

Still, Khravel did not move. Something snapped through the air between them and it was not anger. At least, on his part. He was fairly certain Taliyra was pissed and, from the slight glassiness in her eyes, hurt by his actions. That part, her potential pain, made guilt double through him.

Shoving away from his desk, Khravel rose to his feet to tower over Taliyra. “I don’t have time for this. I have a meeting to prepare for.”

He gathered up the tablets on his desk, straightening them and making sure they were securely locked before stowing all but one in his desk. The remaining tablet, his own personal one, he brought with him as he made his way to the door.

Watching Khravel as he cleaned up his desk, Taliyra remained undeterred when he moved to leave. “I’ll attend with you.”

“Excuse me?” Once more, his eyes widened and he pinned the human with a look. She had skirted up to his side, completely confident in her decision, without him even weighing in.

“Tivikonians have low population numbers, partially due to the after-effects of various plagues that have affected libido and fertility, among other things.” Taliyra fell into step beside Khravel, considering he did not even slow. “Your society is a little laxer about explicit acts in public versus Terran cultures, creating strictly adult-only sections of restaurants, malls, public transit, and more to… encourage copulation as soon as the moment hits. Isn’t that right?”

“What does that have to do with us?” He already knew her point, but that didn’t help his mood.

“It’s common practice for Companions to accompany their counterparts everywhere,” she stated, shooting him a look. A sly, if smug, smile twisted at her lips when Khravel finally paused, staring down at her. A small part of her worried he regretted having her as a Companion, but the angry part – the part bristling at his treatment of her – sallied forth. She shot him a sharp smile, pitching her voice a little lower so E’verra would not hear. “Perhaps your poor performance is simply due to environmental issues or an afflicted libido. In which case, having me follow you everywhere will help us assess how and when to better the chances of conception.”

Heat slid down Khravel’s back, her words making his spine straighten. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Don’t feel pressured, we have two months to– Hey!“

He heard her heels clicking insistently behind him as he veered down the hall. Heat – angry, flustered, agitated – razed up his back as pride barely kept him from sprinting down the corridor. Khravel caught E’verra watching from their desk as Taliyra dogged at his heels, their slight smirk making the back of his neck burn.

The two fell into silence as they made their way through the innards of the office space. Khravel nodded to colleagues or waited for people to pass, while Taliyra remained silent and watchful.

It made his teeth gnash together, just having her near him. His background thoughts teetered on indecent as he forced his pulse to remain calm. Deep breaths, not so deep she’d notice but deep enough to keep his calm. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with this new turn of events. There had to be some way to convince Taliyra to forget her scheme.

But this was her job. He was her job. Providing him with a child was the whole point of this ordeal. He couldn’t tell her not to do it.

Could he? If he explained what happened with Avry, perhaps Taliyra would give up.

The thought struck just as his hand pressed to the conference room console, scanning his palm before the door hissed open. He briefly considered motioning to Taliyra, allowing her to go in first. The meeting wasn’t anything particularly confidential. Mostly going over the language of outdated laws, reviewing the language of new proposals.

She did not even wait for his invitation, however. The woman swept in before he could turn to her, leaving Khravel to stare after her, marinating in a confusing turmoil of aggravation and lust. His eyes flicked over her form, both relieved and annoyed by how much skin was covered, how well the outfit fit her, how he wanted to see more of her.

Pausing on her way to the table, Taliyra gleaned over the other members already in the room.

There was a pale yellow Tivikonian – presumably whoever Khravel was meeting with – and a human Companion. Taliyra narrowed her eyes, finding the yellow Tivikonian not as tall as Khravel, but broad and stocky. Their four arms were bulging with muscle and the horn-like structures on their head were slim, angling backward. They seemed familiar. Perhaps she’d seen them on the vidscreen during her many hours alone in her room.

The Terran, however, Taliyra did not recognize in the slightest. Though she was obviously a fellow ProxyPanion, judging by how she and the Tivikonian sat rather close, exchanging whispers before she and Khravel entered. They were shorter than Taliyra, with a slighter frame but curvature for a healthy handful. Purple-dyed hair, cut in a short curly bob, and big blue eyes, enhanced by their button nose and full cheeks. They also were wearing the gauzy fine fabric that left little to the imagination that Taliyra reserved for Khravel’s nighttime visits.

“Delegate Yivo,” Khravel nodded to the yellow Tivikonian as he entered the conference room. His eyes twitched to the new human, gleaning over her form. “And I have not had the pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

Watching Khravel, Taliyra quietly disseminated his expression, the intonation of his words. He seemed painfully neutral, but whether that was his genuine demeanor or due to her presence, she couldn’t say. It would be easier to figure it out after additional time together.

Besides, why should she care if he found the other Companion more appealing? She certainly did not care in the slightest!

As Khravel entered, the yellow Tivikonian smiled and stood in greeting. “I hope you don’t mind, Delegate Iedro. I brought my newly-acquired Companion, Laryse, she/her.”

Laryse smiled shyly as she got to her feet, giving Khravel and Taliyra a nod of acknowledgement while the yellow Tivokian introduced Khravel and, to Taliyra, himself. Her hands were nervously clasped in front of herself.

Newlyi-introduced Delegate Ghensil Yivo wrapped a lower arm around Laryse’s shoulders, tugging her close to his side. Taliyra had to swallow a surge of envy, watching the two exchange smiles between them. “Thought I’d see what the fuss was all about and, admittedly, this has been a charming solution to our population problems. And is this your elusive Companion?”

Before Khravel could answer, Taliyra took the reins. She smiled at Yivo, inclining her head in a small bow. “Yes, my name is Taliyra Deyva, she/they. Khravel – I mean, Delegate Iedro – and I have been discussing making more public appearances together.”

“That is good to hear! There’s growing concerns about your new Companion rarely being seen with you.” Despite being across the table, Yivo made a motion with his free arms, as if he was nudging his colleague. He also added a wink in for good measure. “You could sway some hold-outs just by having her on your arm at functions, Delegate Iedro.”

“Yes, well, we’re still discussing it,” Khravel barely managed to keep his words level enough to not be considered a hiss. Taking a seat, he brought up the necessary documents they needed to discuss on his tablet. “Let’s move on to business, shall we?”

The two Tivokians quickly settled into chairs on the same side of the table as the women did similarly, on the opposite site of the table and further down. Soon, the Delegates were discussing law verbiage and legislation wording and regulations. The laws weren’t much different than Earth, in Taliyra’s assessment. In most cases, they are far more reasonable than the bulk of Terran laws of the past.

Though she noted some interesting tidbits, intent on looking them up later on, she turned to Laryse. The other woman was looking down on her gauntlet, seemingly checking messages. Clearing her throat, Taliyra waited for Laryse to look up, before politely breaching into conversation, “Have you been in Tivik-4 long?”

“About a week,” Laryse replied, smiling awkwardly as her shoulders hunched imperceptibly.

Taliyra nodded, smiling with ease. “I’ve been here four months. I can give you some places to visit, if you like. Museums, galleries, shopping, restaurants. Tivokian culture and history is very interesting.”

“Oh, yes! Can we exchange information?” The knot of Laryse’s shoulders eased, her smile growing a little broader. After scanning each other’s gauntlets, sharing contact preferences and data, Taliyra pointed out some of her favorite spots thus far on Tivik-4. Laryse scrolled through the information Taliyra sent her via holoscreen, the other woman pointing out other highlights and noting the Companion Support Group also available through ProxyPanion.

After a lull in conversation, the “It’ll be nice to have more humans to spend time with. I imagine I’m a bit of a distraction to Ghensil’s workload.”

Down the table, the yellow Tivokian chuckled. “You are not a distraction at all.”

The fondness in Delegate Yivo’s voice made Taliyra swallow a lump in her throat.

Equally, Khravel shot the other man an annoyed look. Despite the fact they had hammered out quite a lot of verbiage issues and updated some outdated terminology, he’d been catching his colleague throwing wistful glances toward Laryse. Those glances had only increased the longer they worked.

Laryse pressed her lips together, shooting her counterpart a stern look. “You say that, but you are…” Her gaze flicked to Taliyra and Khravel, her shoulders rising to her ears. “Well, it’s not appropriate to say in front of others.”

“Let me guess, he’s very lusty.” Taliyra gave a lazy, knowing smile, watching how a smirk toyed across Yivo’s face. Not that she knew personally, but she had seen other Companions and their alien counterparts eagerly partake in the public, strictly adult, sectors. In more recent weeks, she avoided those areas. It made her chest hurt and agitation flare through her thoughts.

She almost broke down in a fit of laughter when Laryse shot her a wide-eyed look, cheeks flushed pink. She reached over to pat the other woman’s hand. “It’s okay to say here. We’re adults here and Tivikonians are more open about sex.”

For the second time, Laryse’s shoulders eased as she exhaled slowly. “Oh, I wasn’t sure how to talk about it. I haven’t been able to get out much to get a read on,” she made a circling motion with her hand, “Everything.”

“He’s been keeping you busy at home?” Taliyra grinned, waggling her eyebrows.

“Something like that,” Laryse replied, snorting down a laugh.

Taliyra laughed too, while fighting down her own jealousy. It wasn’t Laryse’s fault nor Yivo’s fault that her match-up had been far less exuberant with her. She only barely refrained from glancing down the table at Khravel. She wanted to gauge his reaction, see if he felt uncomfortable or leered at Laryse, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Laryse, if you keep talking about sex, I will have no choice but to cave to my baser instincts.” Delegate Yivo shot Laryse a playful look as one of his hands tapped the table twice. “Right here.”

The purple-haired woman’s lips puckered, her blue eyes narrowing on Yivo. “I doubt Taliyra and Delegate Iedro want to see that, Ghensil!”

Despite her reprimanding tone, her cheeks continued to darken and – from the way she shifted in her seat – Taliyra wondered if the other woman was excited. Giving a one-shouldered shrug, her eyes bounced between Laryse and Yivo, blatantly not looking at Khravel. “I don’t mind.”

“You do not have to, Miss Laryse.” The white-red Tivokian sighed, reading the awkwardness in the human’s body language and hoping his colleague wasn’t going to press the issue.

“I just… I don’t mind,” Laryse began, babbling as she tugged at a curl of her bob. “I don’t want to make any of you uncomforta–“

“Delegate Iedro will not mind. He spearheaded the movement to bring ProxyPanion to Tivik-4.” Yivo smiled, pushing his tablet away as he motioned for Laryse to come closer.

“If you’re all sure you don’t mind?” Laryse looked from Taliyra to Khravel, her pink cheeks unable to darken any further.

Suddenly, the weight of the room was on Khravel’s shoulders. Delegate Yivo, Laryse, and Taliyra were all looking at him, the only one who had yet to give permission for a show. Unable to argue, Khravel tried to force the tension in his shoulders to ease. With a motion of his hand, he attempted to smile. “Far be it for me to stop you two. I commend you both for your duties to Tivik’s populace.”

---

Part 5 is up on Patreon now! ;P

[jamesisbored]

don’t dream it’s over ; I

pairing: jj maybank x fem!kook!reader

content warnings: use of y/n, cursing, evil grandma

author’s note: jj isn’t actually in this one.. 😬 this is more of an intro, but he WILL be in the next one

overview: y/n is going into her senior year of high school in toronto. she’s spent her whole life thinking about college, and it’s time to write her application essay. she has to write about how she learned about the importance of assistance in life. easy enough, right? wrong. y/n doesn’t know anything about life. after all, she doesn’t even have one.

life in toronto isn’t bad. it’s not bad at all, actually. you have a great life. you’re pretty, you’re popular, and you live comfortably. your grandparents are wealthy, and often send your mother money. you don’t live in a big house, and don’t look wealthy, but in all honestly, you can have anything you want. your grandparents send enough money for your parents to spoil you, and your grandparents spoil you on their own, as well. unfortunately, your mother doesn’t have the best relationship with them, — or more specifically, your grandmother — so she frequently complains about it. somehow, your father convinced your mom to take a family trip to Outer Banks. he just wanted more money from your family, but your mother saw the trip as a “learning experience” for you.

so, here you are. flying first class to south carolina. your mom insisted first class seating wasn’t necessary, but your grandmother refused to take any of you in if you flew third class. your frustration grew as your finger darted all over the touchpad of your laptop, attempting to navigate the college website using the shitty plane wifi. you applied to a few colleges, and all the other application essay subject’s were easy. you wrote them all quickly, but this one… this stupid essay was impossible to write.

“importance of assistance my ass..” you mumble under your breath. what did that even mean? what’s the point in even writing this? you didn’t need to get into this college, plenty of colleges would love to have you. you’ve always gotten good grades. you only applied to this college out of obligation, your grandparents begged you to apply to at least one school near outer banks.

you angrily swing the laptop closed, running your hands through your hair as you slump back into the cushy plane seat. the plane begins lowering, the flight coming to an end. you try walking through the slow, jetlagged crowds. your parents are waiting outside near your grandmother’s car. the drive is long and silent, except for the few times your father would try small-talking your grandparents, but your mom would shut him down every time.

lucky for everyone, your grandparents lived in a huge house in the rich part of outer banks, which meant you would have your own room for the two months you had to stay in this boring little town. you spend the rest of the evening putting your clothes away, and decorating the room as best as you can with the rest of your luggage. the door slowly creaks open, your mom stepping inside.

“hey. grandma wants to take us out tomorrow, she says she has a pool cleaner come over every sunday and wednesday.” your mom says, making herself comfortable in your new room as she plops down onto your bed. “i know you don’t want to be here. it’s okay if you’re not up for it.”

“thanks, i’ll probably stay in tomorrow. i’d rather get used to the house before trying to get used to the neighborhood.” you shrug.

[fierceawakening]

Violent crime IS the exception. But the thing about it is? It tends to affect people much more profoundly than nonviolent crime, which is mostly an irritating nuisance.

Also, humans live around a century ish. The odds that at some point any given one of us is going to experience the exception are not that low. I’ve experienced it, as I’ve pointed out before. I spent… I want to say a month? But I might be misremembering. In an apartment complex I don’t live in because a guy kept breaking my bedroom windows and I needed not to be asleep and unprotected when THE PLACE WHERE I SLEEP got showered with glass shards.

Was this livable? Yeah. But it was deeply disruptive, and it really wasn’t fair given that I was the victim, not the perpetrator.

Now did that guy end up in prison?

I actually think he didn’t.

I’m pretty sure he ended up institutionalized.

But here’s the thing.

If prison is bad because i5 sequesters and separates people, as Kabe says… so is institutionalization. So that wasn’t actually a better solution to the problem.

But it did make me safer. I am back in what I consider my home.

You’re saying that anything institutionalizing is too cruel. I don’t disagree actually!

Followers of this very tumblr will remember me hesitating for days about calling the cops before it escalated to physically dangerous to me personally. The guy was a mentally ill man of color. I was terrified I’d get him harmed, perhaps killed. I wanted to be left alone. Not t9 hurt him.

Ultimately, my friends convinced me. I feared escalation and felt those fears were logical, not just emotion driven. And the escalation happened. He got more violent and targeted me, or at least my dwelling. (I still don’t know if he knew I’d complained and wanted revenge or if I was just physically close enough to mess with.)

So how could that have happened differently? Our county was trying for weeks to encourage him to get treatment or at least to talk. But he had a right not to consent, which even now I still believe remains a right.

If abolitionists can’t tell me, what I hear is that those of us who experience violence are on our own. That abolitionists live on campuses or behind community gates, and don’t have any reason to not just fear but expect something to happen eventually.

Why on earth should I listen to them? I have new windows.

Said this in a longer convo and thought it got at a point I’ve been struggling to make about “punishment should not be a part of morality” type claims I see on here:

Basically, I look at statements like, “if we were truly good we’d evolve past the desire to punish those who harm us and our loved ones” and think “every once in a while the left reinvents original sin and gives it a new name.”

[bubblesxo]

I’m sorry but the flat way that the fandom tackles the Enji Todoroki problem is so blegh. Yes, how he treated them (especially Shouto—we don’t 100% know if Touya’s training was the same, especially because he actually liked his training) was wrong, the way he treated his wife was wrong, the way he ignored his other kids is wrong. HOWEVER, him cutting Touya off from training was NOT 100% wrong. Should he have treated it more delicately? Yes. Should he have been more considerate to his kid? Yes. Should he have gotten him some kind of therapy to help him cope with his obvious mental issues? Also yes. But cutting him off from training when he gets hurt doing so and it’s unavoidable is NOT wrong. He was trying to prevent exactly what happened in the end. Maybe he could have revisited it a few years later when training isn’t all Touya is and looked into support items, idk, but Enji’s approach was the right decision in the wrong way.

[alangdorf]

Sorryyyy for dropping off the face of the earth; got kinda shy after that last post but mostly I’ve just been writing though I cannot guarantee that any of that will ever be finished (also I’m very insecure about my writing AAAH). Figure I might as well post the valentines I had done (like two months late lol); interestingly this turned into more of a hand lettering exercise than I was expecting lol