#at least you could tell they loved the source material | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astro-rainbow777 · 5 months

Text

💐🌸 𝓣𝓪𝓾𝓻𝓾𝓼 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓼 🧸🌱

♉︎ - Happy Taurus Season Everyone!!! In honor of Taurus season, I am continuing the signs through the houses series. I hope y’all enjoy my findings & this post serves you well. Thanks so much for all of the support! Happy Spring & Upcoming Beltane to the Pagan Community <3

🌸 Taurus in the First House ~ Taurus on the ascendant is the embodiment of peace, calm and pleasure. These natives aren’t the most outgoing but leave such a comfortable and cozy first impression. They don’t say more than needs to be said, however they are unlikely to turn down a conversation. They have a soft and natural beauty about them and strong familial values. They enjoy the finer things, have a clean aesthetic and a “rich” aura. Many of them are shorter or more petitie in size, have a pleasing and smooth voice and kind eyes. However, if you mess with the bull, you’ll get the horns! Being on the opposing end of Scorpio, when they cut you off, it is completely. Good luck getting back into their lives because they are a closed book. Why y’all always smell good? Fr tho

🐂 Taurus in the Second House ~ Here the sign is in its ruling house, they do very well in saving their money, are picky about what they eat and indulge in the material pleasures of life. They value loyalty, commitment, stability and security - not to mention their love fashion & the arts. They will tell you they have the most exquisite taste, you would find it very difficult to change their mind. They hold up strong values and morales, what they know to be right and wrong is the truth. This is a very secure personality, they are very comfortable with their bodies, and have a healthy sense of worth and self love. Honestly such a healthy placement - as someone with NO earth in their chart - muhbenaaaace

💰 Taurus in the Third House ~ These natives find security and peace in their childhood homes, where they grew up, the memories of their cousins and siblings. They could be the most stable or the least stable out of their siblings. The way they think, learn and communicate is slow and methodical. They take their time in studying new topics, preferring to stay on the surface of a topic. They may have an artistic and beautiful singing voice, or maybe the way they speak is just very polite and sweet. They were raised with manners and this makes them very charming. They can have a liking for music that moves at a slower pace, classical music, or just a more elegant taste in art.

🥘 Taurus in the Fourth House ~ Their family could be a source of stability and security for them. The mom, mother figure or more feminine role model can be the bread winner in the family, her love language could be gifts, an amazing cook, and give a lot of hugs 🫂 They have stable emotions, it takes a lot to emotionally sway them. It may end up bothering people who try to get an emotional reaction from them because of this. They can be the most grounded one in their family. Their family may view them as realistic, practical and reliable. Family is what gives them sanction from the world.

💝 Taurus in the Fifth House ~ They express them selves in a very material type of way, their flex is their finances. These natives take a lot of pride in what they have...this usually comes from a place of having to work really hard for their things. They love the natural look, minimalist, they like long lasting, high quality, practical fashion. To them that is the best statement to make. They don’t like that trash to treasure look their tastes are refined. They will shower their kids with the finer things and really enjoy providing for them - this will be their love language. They aren’t huge adrenaline junkies and enjoy more grounded, chill hobbies. They definitely don’t mind being alone and love their down time at home…on the couch…snacks…naps…repeat.

🐻 Taurus in the 6th ~ These natives prefer a slow start to their daily routine, and enjoy a slow paced job, with chill yet organized coworkers. The workplace must be something that they don’t hate… because if they hate it and it stresses them out just thinking of going, they won’t work there. Period. They need low maintenance pets as these individuals are very independent in nature. It’s important for their day job to be a place of peace and pleasure for them, and once they are comfortable, it’s gonna be hard to get them to leave. Their job can provide them with sooooo much stability if they have a good one.

🍨 Taurus in the 7th ~ Wining and Dining with your loved ones! Shopping sprees, luxurious and high quality partners. With the ones they love the most, they spoil, eat and they just want to be lazy with them honestly. They want their relationships to be a place of peace for them. It’s important that their partner can support themselves and is stable on their own. It will just cause them stress if they are constantly worrying about having to take care or mommy their partner. It’s possible that they can stay with someone out of fear of the unknown/change, even tho they don’t like them or it’s not working anymore.

🌷 Taurus in the Eighth House ~ Cycles related to self esteem, self worth, and supporting themselves. Honestly, this is a really hard placement to have- they may have times where they stay in ab*sive relationships because they can’t support themselves financially or they are too uncomfortable alone. However, the eighth house is notorious for taking your greatest fear/weakness and turning it into their super power. You just have to get through those lessons and take those leaps of faith to unlock that power and hidden potential! They like to engage in their senses when they’re intimate with their partners and prefer slow love making rather than the raw primal stuff.

🪴 Taurus in the Ninth House ~ These people can be a little fixed in their beliefs, their spiritual beliefs/religion can be a source stability and sanction for them. If they aren’t necessarily spiritual- they could just have a specific philosophy or lifestyle that they stick to. What I admire about these individuals, is they know exactly what they want. When they travel, it has to be somewhere where they know exactly what to expect, somewhere that won’t give them anxiety, and probably a more luxurious staycation type of experience. They could also enjoy a nice nature walk with their loved ones.

👛 Taurus in the Tenth House ~ Every single person I have met with this placement neeeeeed a stable job, they will not leave a job if it provides them with the type of lifestyle they desire. It doesn’t really matter what they are doing for their career as long as it aligns with their values. Their dad/father figure could have been the sole provider and could have made a huge impact on their reputation. This is definitely a daddies money placement 💀 - sorry if that’s triggering for anyone lol. The father figure could be super down to earth and chill, enjoy cooking or just be way too overly indulgent in a negative manifestation.

👒 Taurus in the Eleventh House ~ Is the stay at home friend, doesn’t like to get out of their comfort zone to meet new people. Much likely to want to stay inside and bond with their community in a space that is familiar and inviting to them. Their community could be their sanction and be the most stable part of their lives. They enjoy cooking and creating art for their friends. Anything to bring peace to their homies senses! For their friends, the Taurus eleventh house native’s place is a home away from home. How special 🥹

👄 Taurus in the Twelfth House ~ When it comes to matters of the twelfth house, spirituality, isolation, ect. - these individuals may like to keep things light and on the surface. They are comfortable being alone, in fact they consider it to be comfortable and safe. Their spirituality isn’t something they spend time questioning, and they could be very comfortable with the unknown, they enjoy their own curious nature. They are endearing to their own selves, however sometimes their sense of worth could be confusing. They may have a hard time understanding their own values and morals, preferring to just go with the flow, everyday they are a new person trying on different personalities, hobbies and styles! The possibilities are endless! It’s quite an interesting placement. One more thing….secret indulgences…the silent snacker

Smell ya later!

#astro community #astrology #astrology signs #zodiac #spirituality #taurus #taurus rising #astrology observations #Taurus in the Houses

1K notes · View notes

egcdeath · 3 months

Text

sealing the deal

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

summary: you and patrick make a few unique business proposals to each other.

word count: 7k

warnings: succession au – tomshiv dynamic (pre-failmarriage), proposals (business and romantic), fluff, a little angst, mentions of a dad being very sick/almost dying, lots of exposition/background on the relationship, art cameo, a little domesticity, established relationship

author’s note: you don’t have to know anything about succession to enjoy this fic! i’ll explain everything that you need to know. if you’re a diehard succession fan i can’t promise that everything will be completely faithful to the source material but it definitely takes a lot of inspiration from tom and shiv’s dynamic.

i wanted to give a HUGE thank you to my succession anon who gave me so much help and guidance for this fic and basically ended up being my co-author for this fic! i hope you all enjoy :)

It wasn’t always easy loving the youngest son of the owner of a multi-billion dollar media conglomerate.

In fact, most of the time, it was quite the opposite.

Even without Patrick working in his family’s business, it always felt a little bit like you were in a competition for brain space and time with his family and career, and you were losing. Badly.

You weren’t exactly sure that you knew what you signed up for when you first met Patrick—connected to each other by a mutual friend you went to business school with, whom you’d begged to try to set you two up for career advancement purposes more than anything else.

“You know that guy you keep asking me about?” your friend asked you after taking a hefty sip from the drink the bartender just passed her.

“Patrick Zweig?” you asked, not bothering to pretend like you didn’t know who she was talking about.

“Yeah!” she laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. You weren’t sure where she was going with this subject, but you were intrigued by her mention of the man and her apparent entertainment at the situation.

“What about him?” you asked, perversely curious as to why she was bringing him up now.

“I invited him to come out with us tonight!” she laughed once more as she divulged this information, as if it wasn’t shocking news to you.

“What? What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me before!” you practically yelled at her over the sound of loud music and other bar patrons. You suddenly felt very self conscious. If you’d known you were going to meet Patrick Zweig tonight, you would’ve put yourself together, rather than coming straight from work to the bar.

“I wanted to surprise you!” she continued with her giggling at a situation that you did not find nearly as humorous. “Oh my god. I wish you could see your face right now.”

“I hate you!” you laughed, thinking that maybe this was some sort of prank. “You’re joking, then?”

“No, he’s really coming. He just got back from D.C. and wanted to meet with me. I asked if my hot friend could come along and he was like, ‘Obviously!’”

You groaned aloud. This wasn’t how you intended to make your first impression on him.

“Okay, well, what’s his type?” you asked her, hoping to get a bit of insight before you were launched right into what might end up being your first date. You were sure that you would make a good impression if you showed up as you were, but you wanted to be better than good. You didn’t want to be just another forgettable notch on his bedpost.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, taking a sip from her drink. “Hot? A nice ass? A little mean? Isn’t that every guy’s type?”

“You’re not taking this seriously enough for me,” you replied. You wanted to have a strategy going into this. You would’ve appreciated at least a small briefing before meeting someone so intimidating.

“I am, you just check all the boxes already. Just be yourself and I’m sure things will work out fine,” she assured you.

Her assurance was well warranted, considering that things worked out far better than fine. In fact, your friend was overdue for a fruit basket—one that you would be paying for with Patrick’s credit card as you sat in the dining room of your shared penthouse apartment, after you wrapped up a day of work in the skyscraper that was his father’s corporate headquarters.

At the time, you had a slight idea of who he was, but you had an even better idea of who his family was. Anyone who owned a television would be familiar with his family’s corporation—from the causal channel surfers who passed one of their many news channels during their search for the newest episode of The Bachelor, to the thousands of people with their logo burned into their device screen from the hours they spent with their eyes locked on the 24-hour stream of borderline propaganda.

Beyond his impressive family, you’d heard whispers and rumors about Patrick for a long time. Between headlines in gossip magazines and stories from your mutual friend, you learned that he’d entered the political world as an attempt to make a name for himself outside of his family name, but struggled to be taken seriously for many years due to the less than stellar reputation that came with being a Zweig.

Although, rumors about his career were just the tip of the iceberg. Gossip about his tumultuous relationships—if they could even be called that—and history of partying far too hard often ran wild, making you believe that your initial meetings with Patrick would be nothing more than a few hookups and sweet talking yourself into a new job. After all, there was no better pillow talk than an elevator pitch.

At first, your plan seemed like it was right on track. You ended your first night together in the early morning, finding yourself in Patrick’s apartment for hours. Your night hadn’t really ever ended, with the two of you leaving the bar together, having some of the best sex of your life in a bed that felt a little bit like laying on a cloud, then proceeding to talk for hours until it was time for you to go back to work. You smiled to yourself as you sat in the backseat of Patrick’s car, exhausted from the long night and a little uncomfortable in yesterday’s clothes, but mostly enthusiastic after your surprisingly eventful night with the man.

It was a strange turn of events from what you initially expected. While you couldn’t be too sure what you were getting yourself into when you learned you were being set up on a date, you assumed that Patrick would be like any other rich asshole you’d gone out on dates with, who got what they wanted from you, sent you off on your merry way, then never spoke to you again. You quickly discovered that he was unlike anyone you’d ever been with before.

Patrick seemed to be full of surprises, and the fact that you were going on multiple dates with him in the first place was one of those very surprises. You hadn’t expected to go on any more than three dates before you asked about working for his family, securing yourself a job, then leaving him alone.

What took you by even greater surprise were the dates themselves. What started as an intimate dinner in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city ended with you at a terrible 24-hour diner, treating Patrick to his first slice of cherry pie as you talked into the wee hours of the morning.

Your subsequent dates went similarly, with the two of you talking endlessly about anything and everything. Patrick was someone full of surprises—he was far from the rich asshole you expected him to be, and more like a knowledgeable politics nerd with a lot of money.

You talked for hours about big things, like why Patrick decided to pursue a career as a political strategist and what brought you to New York City, but you also found it easy to discuss small random things with him, spending an extended period of time discussing how you named your cat, and debating on the best restaurant in the city.

You always thought of yourself as being somewhat agreeable and friendly when it came to conversation, but your discussions with Patrick took you by surprise. You weren’t sure you’d ever clicked with someone the way you clicked with him, and it made you as excited as it made you nervous.

By the time you worked up the nerve to ask Patrick about working for his family, you were already beat to the punch. The two of you were tucked into the booth that you’d recently declared as yours in the same diner that you seemed to be spending all of your all-nighters in, reclining comfortably in the particularly uncomfortable seats.

“Do you like the business side of things?” Patrick asked you, stirring a flattening Diet Coke with a straw.

“It’s fun,” you dismissed. “It’s less fun going to work on a half-hour of sleep.”

“Shut up. You love it,” the man across from you laughed, an admittedly very handsome half-smile on his face. “I mean it though. Do you like what you’re doing?”

“It pays the bills, I guess. I like the work, but I’m not huge on the company. All the politics and the instability with layoffs lately… It isn’t exactly ideal.”

“Would you ever work for my family?” he asked. “I mean, you’re just wasting potential elsewhere. I really think they could use someone like you on their team.”

“Seriously?” you asked, partially surprised at the proposition, but mostly surprised that you weren’t the one to ask in the first place. Across the table, Patrick listened to you intently. “I mean, If they’d have me, I’d love to work for them.”

“My dad mentioned something about them looking for some new blood. I can put in a good word for you, if that sounds interesting to you.”

“Is this because I showed you the joys of a slice of diner cherry pie?” you joked, trying not to let on just how overjoyed you were about this opportunity.

“You got me. And now that you mention it, we should probably order another slice,” he suggested, going along with your joke. “You’re smart and you clearly know your shit. Besides, I’m mostly doing it for myself. It’ll be nice to have someone around at company Christmas parties who can actually keep up with me.”

“Well, thank you,” you replied calmly, though you were doing somersaults in your mind. “I look forward to drinking eggnog and singing Mariah Carey songs with you.”

In retrospect, you recognized this action as the first of his many wordless declarations of love. You later learned that Patrick did everything he could to avoid talking business with his family, as it was clearly a sore spot for everyone involved. Realizing that he’d gone out of his way to get you a job had been an even more kind gesture than you knew at the time.

While you initially expected your fling to taper off after Patrick fulfilled his end of the business deal he didn’t even know he was facilitating, your relationship did nothing of the sort. In fact, his favor seemed to have the opposite effect on your bond.

Before you knew it, the two of you were courting each other like lovesick Jane Austen protagonists. In another shocking turn of events, Patrick ordered flowers to your doorstep each morning and took you on lavish dates, while you began to take four-hour long train rides to and from D.C. each weekend to visit him, and frequently sent him rambling love letters.

While you hadn’t expected for your relationship to unfold the way that it did, you genuinely loved Patrick. You loved the way his eyes crinkled when you told him something stupid that he’d laugh at, or how he leaned in to whisper something judgmental in your ear about someone you mutually disliked during family events. You loved the way his hand felt in yours and the way his mind worked, which he frequently displayed to you while discussing his latest political strategy. You even loved when he minced words to describe how he felt about you, knowing that though the word ‘love’ might never leave his lips, his actions spoke far louder than his voice ever could.

It just so happened that you loved his proximity to power, too.

While his money and power might have piqued your interest initially, it didn’t change the fact that the two of you quickly clicked. You had a natural chemistry, with you matching Patrick’s flirty words and actions with ease. It also just so happened that you entered each other's lives at the perfect time, with you in dire need of a career upgrade, and Patrick in need of someone unafraid to show him more affection and care than he was willing to give.

Though he wasn’t the best at communicating his feelings, you quickly became a tenured professor in Patrick-ology. You were certain that this played a role in why Patrick liked you so much in the first place—being somewhat emotionally stunted, he needed someone who could understand his thoughts without him having to explicitly say every detail, and you did exactly that.

This skill worked out surprisingly well for you. You gave him the love and understanding that he’d been looking for and missing for all of his adult life, and you got to reap the benefits that came with being in a relationship with someone in one of the most powerful families in the world.

Despite your more humble beginnings, you quickly became familiar with luxurious items and activities. You also quickly learned that no matter how prepared you thought you were for that level of wealth—you weren’t. You couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times your unfamiliarity with certain norms left you as the laughing stock of the family.

But it wasn’t all corner offices in skyscrapers and helicopter rides. During the honeymoon phase of your relationship, it certainly felt like it, but the cracks in your foundation became more and more evident every day.

The thing was, as much as you two cared about each other, there was a family shaped shadow that loomed over everything that you did. It was clear that you were an outsider in Patrick’s family. Coming from an upper-middle class Midwestern background, you were often made to feel like you were a stupid gold-digger, only staying around your boyfriend for power, rather than love. At times, you wondered if his family knew what love was at all.

The love, or lack thereof in Patrick’s family was what shocked you most of all. It was no secret that his father was unnecessarily cruel to all of his children, but particularly to his siblings trying to work their way into more serious positions in the company. Patrick somehow managed to dodge that particular flavor of cruelty, with him very obviously being his father’s favorite and working outside of the family business, but the emotional scars his father left still lingered.

But his father’s presence didn’t just loom over him, it was beginning to loom over you, too. Not only in the extreme intimidation you felt when having to interact with him, but in the small acts of callousness Patrick showed you throughout the course of your relationship.

It began as small things, things that bothered you less the more you got used to them. Like how he always seemed to unconsciously belittle your work, not even bothering to seem interested in the recaps you gave of your day before he launched into a story of his own about the candidate he was working with. Though you tried your hardest to fight through your smaller pet peeves with him, Patrick’s inability to be straightforward about his emotions felt like the cherry on top of an already painful sundae.

Regardless of all of the flaws, bumps, and roadblocks in your relationship, you promised to yourself that you would be in Patrick’s corner, no matter how ugly things got or how poorly he treated you. Not only out of your own self-interest, but out of your love for the man, and the knowledge of how difficult his upbringing made certain things for him.

Which was why when you got the call from Patrick that something had gone terribly wrong with his father while coming back from his birthday celebration, you didn’t hesitate to rush to the hospital, encouraging your driver to speed all the way to the building.

When you arrived, he and his siblings were in disarray in a way you’d never seen before. His father, who was typically a presence that towered over everyone in the room, was reduced to an old man hooked up to a number of machines. His older sisters, who were always either waiting for the moment to swoop in and make a crude joke or waiting in the wings to discuss the next business strategy, paced back and forth endlessly, clearly feeling the pressure of their sick father.

Patrick sat alone on an uncomfortable chair, peering helplessly into the observation room. It was rare for you to see him with his feelings written so openly across his face, even after years of being in a relationship with him. That concerned you.

You made quick work of walking over to Patrick, whose tensed-up shoulders slightly dropped as you took a seat next to him. Though he wouldn’t ever tell you this, you knew that your presence made him feel more supported and a little more safe, though you being or not being in the hospital clearly wouldn’t have an impact on if his father lived or died.

“Hey,” he greeted you, immediately squeezing your hand. “Thanks for coming,” he said weakly, as if he was fighting off a new round of tears. In that moment, you so desperately wanted to take some of his emotions for yourself, knowing that Patrick hated feeling any feeling, let alone such negative feelings to such a serious degree.

“Of course, honey,” you reassured him, running what you hoped would be a grounding hand up and down his arm. “Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Water? A snack? I saw that burger place you like on my way over.”

“No, nothing right now,” he sighed. You inspected him cautiously, knowing that he wasn’t exactly one to always say what he meant. “Really,” he assured you, though you didn’t completely buy it.

Since he wasn’t in the mood for more material items, you decided that the best course of action was a little affection. He wasn’t always the biggest fan of receiving affection in front of his family, but you figured that in a time where he was uncertain if his father would live or die, he would appreciate a little outward support.

You laid your head on his shoulder and angled your body closer to his. Not expecting any response, you were surprised when Patrick kissed the top of your head. “I’m glad you’re here,” he told you quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’d be in trouble if someone overheard him.

You held his hand as the two of you sat for hours, only getting up to stretch your legs or take phone calls from friends with insight on other high-end medical facilities that might be able to better accommodate Patrick’s father.

You did your best to give Patrick his space when he needed it, as he floated between two of his siblings—one of which was focused mainly on the future of the company, and the other in a state of denial about the state of her father—then back to you when he could no longer stand the chaos of his sisters.

It was a stressful scene, and one that was clearly too much for your boyfriend, who went back and forth between wanting to be glued at your hip, and wanting to be left completely alone. You’d seen Patrick stressed in the past, with him chatting your ear off as he waited for his candidate’s election results, or as he prepared to give a speech at an event, but you’d never seen him like this.

He almost seemed fragile, like one wrong word or action might break him. It frightened you to see him in such a state. Again, you lamented not being able to take some of his pain for yourself.

In the time that you waited without any word from any doctors, a few gears began to turn in your mind. Life was so fleeting, which was proven by Patrick’s mighty father falling so seemingly easily. Really, it could’ve been any of you sitting on that table with tubes and monitors attached to you. If it were Patrick who was sitting on that gurney, you would be an absolute wreck. If he somehow died, you also wouldn’t technically be a widow, despite your long-term relationship with the man.

All of it made you wonder if you should just bite the bullet and propose to Patrick.

Sure, it wasn’t the best timing ever. Sure, you’d always imagined yourself being on the receiving end of a grand proposal, especially from someone like Patrick. But maybe he would appreciate the gesture—giving him a distraction to take away some of his pain, and giving him one final grand milestone with you while his dad was still alive.

To a lesser extent, being married would provide you with certain protections you didn’t have while you were only his long-term girlfriend. Obviously, you didn’t want to think of anything bad happening to your boyfriend, but accidents and tragedies could happen at any point, and it was better to be prepared than to be sorry.

It felt right that you might be able to join his family during a time where he was losing a family member. Not only for his sake, but because losing their patriarch meant unprecedented instability in his family. You wanted to be sure of your spot amongst them, after you’d grown used to the privileges that came with being Patrick’s girlfriend.

You fidgeted with the ring on your middle finger, a family heirloom passed from generation to generation onto you. It was no expensive piece of jewelry, and it certainly wasn’t an engagement ring, but it was incredibly meaningful to you—a symbol of your family, which was extremely important to you. Patrick knew just how much you valued the ring and exactly what it represented to you, so in turn, you hoped that if you gave it to him, he would understand how much he meant to you.

Getting up from where you’d been sitting for far too long, you began to pace the hallways of the hospital, wondering about the timing of your now imminent proposal. As you shuffled through the sterile building, you surprised yourself as you came across your partner.

“Patrick!” you said with a start after unexpectedly catching a glimpse of him.

“Hey,” he greeted unenthusiastically before beginning to walk right past you.

“Wait,” you grabbed onto his arm before he could fully walk away, encouraging him to look right at you. It was now or never, and the words were on the tip of your tongue.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t have time for this right now,” he dismissed, his voice monotone and listless.

“You do, though. Patrick, listen,” he didn’t look like he was in the mood to talk, but was prepared to listen to you anyway. You knew you only had a few seconds to pitch your proposition before you lost him, so you spat out your words rather than beating around the bush. “Let’s get married.”

“What?” he looked at you with brows drawn in confusion. It wasn’t exactly the ideal reaction to your proposal, but then again it wasn’t much of a proposal. “Right now?”

“Obviously not now, but… soon?” as you spoke, you began the process of slipping the ring off your middle finger and attempting to present it to him in the palm of your hand. Sure, it wasn’t the most romantic or put together proposal, but it felt right to be offering him such a grand and personal gesture while everything else was going sideways in his life.

“I know it’s probably not the best time, but I thought that maybe I could make things a little better with your dad and… I don’t know. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If something ever happened to you, I wouldn’t want to wonder about what we could’ve been and-” you rambled on before you were interrupted with a sigh.

“Honey, you can’t just make my dad dying better,” he rubbed his temple exasperatedly, then looked between you and the ring you were presenting him with. “If you wanted to make me feel better, you should’ve just brought me coffee.”

You frowned at him, knowing that you’d offered him that very thing earlier and he turned you down. You wondered if your communication would ever improve—or if it even needed to improve, since this proposal was going so poorly that you’d probably leave the hospital single.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you closed your palm and put your hand in the pocket of your jacket, fully prepared for Patrick to tell you to fuck all the way off. It had been stupid for you to think that Patrick would appreciate such a grand gesture during such a terrible time.

“Wait,” Patrick stopped you, now reaching for your arm. “My answer isn’t a no, it’s just… I don’t want this to be the memory. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Doing all the work of getting your hand out of your pocket, he grabbed the ring you presented him with to further prove his words and slipped it on his ringer. It only fit halfway down his finger, but he kept it on regardless.

“Really?” you said, suddenly perking up.

“Duh,” he replied, looking a little shy as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink and he briefly looked away from you, as if his feelings were so strong that he couldn’t even manage to look you in the eye.

You couldn’t contain your excitement at his answer, jumping and squealing a little bit as you pulled him into an overly enthusiastic hug. You heard the familiar sound of Patrick laughing quietly in your ear as you squeezed him. Though he always seemed to hold back his emotions, you knew that he was just as excited as you were to be promised to one another.

You pulled him into a soft kiss, draping your arms around his neck, holding him as close as you could until he inevitably pushed you away.

Patrick surprised you with how long he was willing to embrace you, clearly in need of a little bit of comfort after such an emotionally exhausting night. You surprised yourself when you ended up being the person to pull away.

“Should we go check on our family?” you asked, not bothering to hide your excitement around finally being in.

“I just need a second,” he told you, glancing down the hallway before pulling you into yet another embrace. He pressed his face into your hair, soothing himself with your scent and presence. You rubbed circles into his back and muttered something about him taking all the time he needed.

You were interrupted by one of Patrick’s sisters, whose voice called out your names down the hallway. “When you two are finished with your snuggle-fest, the doctor has news for us.”

“Wait, what?” Patrick pushed you away quickly, his tune changing in an instant.

“Good news, I think. But move your asses. C’mon,” she directed, already turning away and Patrick quickly following her.

If you were experiencing an emotional rollercoaster, you couldn’t even begin to understand how Patrick was feeling. Finding out his dad was sick, being proposed to, and immediately hearing more news about his father in the span of just a few hours must’ve felt unreal.

You sat quietly and observed from the sidelines as a doctor took them into their father’s room and filled in the siblings on the state of him. They all seemed to share a collective sigh of relief, and though you couldn’t hear the exact news from where you were sitting, you knew that it must’ve been good.

When Patrick came back to you, he had a hint of a sad smile on his face. “Ready to go?” he asked you.

He didn’t need you to ask twice. You were more than prepared to escape the too-bright lights, sickeningly sterile scent, and the feeling of sadness that seemed to be hanging in the air of the hospital.

Your driver was a welcome sight, with him giving you a quiet greeting as the two of you got in the backseat of the car. As he drove, Patrick reached for your hand, which you gladly gave up to him.

In the following minutes, Patrick crept over further into your space until he sat directly beside you, leaning his head on you with his eyes closed. The long day was surely taking its toll, with the anxiety of his dad being in such dire straits, and the excitement and confusion of you proposing to him.

His sleep was well earned. You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, then closed your own eyes, letting the soft sound of the early morning city traffic lull you to sleep.

In the following days, you could tell that something wasn’t quite right with Patrick. At first, you chalked it up to nerves around his father’s health, but that didn’t seem to be it. Typically, when Patrick was really anxious about something, his silence on the elephant-sized topic gave him away. While you’d heard quite a bit about the state of his father from him—whether it was an update sent to him by his step-mother or an actual visit to the man—you hadn’t heard a peep about your engagement since the day after you got engaged.

On the other hand, you were struggling to keep the news to yourself, despite the request of Patrick. You wanted to scream the announcement from the rooftops, but in the early morning after you returned from the hospital, Patrick made his position very clear: Wait a little while for things to blow over before you started telling people– your friends and family included.

Despite the fact that he wore your ring every day since the day that you’d given it to him, something about his behavior told you that it was that very ring that was giving him so much internal conflict.

In the past few years of knowing Patrick, you learned that he was a bit of a control freak. You wondered how out of control it made him feel for you to be the person to propose to him. Part of you wondered if you should’ve even proposed in the first place if it was going to be an issue. Maybe you should’ve let him do things on his own timeline, rather than making him feel nervous or insecure in your relationship.

But at the same time, Patrick initially seemed rather entertained by the idea of you getting married. In the morning after your engagement, he couldn’t stop referring to you as Mrs. Zweig. At the desk of your brand new office, given to you after a serious promotion, you found a box of expensive chocolates with a note fondly referring to you as his fiancé. As you laid next to him in bed that night, he pulled up the profiles of three separate wedding planners and asked you about your preference in people.

It almost felt like his feelings on your engagement were constantly fluctuating between being excited to be with you forever, and being terrified of that very commitment. Things weren’t made any better by Patrick’s professional-level ability to dodge questions, especially questions related to how he genuinely felt.

“C’mon, you know how I feel,” he replied to you after you directly asked him over breakfast. He lifted his mug casually, subconsciously putting space between the two of you.

“Pat, I don’t. That’s why I asked,” you forced out a laugh, though the situation wasn’t exactly funny to you. If Patrick didn’t want to marry you, you didn’t want to force him to do so.

“But you always know how I feel,” he said with a bit of a pout and a whine—what you called his ‘let me get away with it’ demeanor that he often used with his family—before setting down his coffee and standing up.

“Not this time,” you explained, standing up as well and abandoning the plate of half-eaten eggs in front of you.

“You’ll figure it out,” he dismissed your concerns and stepped close enough to you to hold your face in both of his hands.

“Love you?” you asked, hoping that if he could confirm that at the very least, you might have a better understanding of what was going through his head.

“Of course,” he said genuinely, though he didn’t offer you any parroting of those words. Instead, he dropped his hands from your cheeks and kissed one of them. “Have a good day at work, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” you tried not to look as annoyed as you actually felt as you made quick work of grabbing your work bag and leaving. You needed some time to make sense of it all.

The situation only became more complicated as you sat down in a conference room, mentally preparing yourself to make your first big presentation as the newly vetted Head of Parks and Cruises division. You cared greatly about what your peers thought about you, so you couldn’t deny the nerves running through your veins.

These nerves only increased when you caught a glimpse of Patrick from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the conference room, shaking hands with people on your floor and clearly making cordial small talk.

You desperately hoped that he was there to wish you luck on your presentation, and not to pick your conversation from the morning back up. You bitterly thought about how he couldn’t have picked a worse time as he waved at you from the window. You stiffly waved back, not exactly in the mood to be interrupted right before a big presentation.

“Hey, if I don’t make it back for whatever reason, you can do this presentation, right?” you asked quietly, leaning into your newly-hired assistant’s ear.

“Wait, what?” he asked you, brows furrowing. “I don’t know, I haven’t practiced or anything, and-“

“Perfect,” you replied, not listening to a single word he was rambling out. “Just read off the slides. You’ll be okay.”

You didn’t bother staying to listen to Art ramble in your ear about how he didn’t know what he was doing. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be the one presenting, and if he absolutely had to, he’d probably be fine.

You shut the door behind you, politely waving at one of your co-workers as they entered the conference room. You made your way to Patrick and stood with your arms crossed against your chest, trying to strike a good balance between showing him how agitated you were, and not trying to further agitate your fiancé, who seemed to be in a particularly fragile mental state lately.

“Hi honey, is anything important going on?” Patrick asked once you stood across from him.

“Actually, yeah. Is there any way we could chat a little later? Like maybe an hour or two?” you suggested. “I can block some time off on my calendar for you and everything.”

“I’m sure whatever it is isn’t more important than this,” he glanced over at the conference room as he spoke to demonstrate his point. You wished you could explain to him how far that was from the truth.

“What is it?” you asked, your patience beginning to grow thin.

“You’ll have to see. Come with me?” he offered.

“Patrick, I’m in the middle of a meeting!” you whisper-shouted, trying to keep your voice down and your body language mostly neutral, so your colleagues couldn’t observe how much you were freaking out as you talked to your partner.

“It hasn’t started yet,” he dismissed casually. “They’ll be fine without you. I won’t be fine without you.”

You eyed him suspiciously.

“Please,” he added, as if you’d ever be able to say no to him—though you were pretty tempted to do so.

“Fine,” you gave in with a small, soft sigh. That didn’t deter Patrick at all, who seemed uncharacteristically excited as the two of you sat in the backseat of his car.

“So where are we going? Or, what are we doing?” you asked, trying to ignore the terrible feeling in your gut that you felt about leaving your meeting.

“It’s a surprise,” Patrick said coyly. “It’ll be more fun than that meeting, though.”

“I’m sure,” you replied, looking out the window. You hoped that whatever romantic gesture Patrick planned would be worth losing the respect of all of your peers. You wondered what you could tell them that would make your absence seem acceptable. Family emergency? It wasn’t exactly a lie. It wasn’t quite the truth either.

When your ride stopped and you stepped out of the vehicle, you were surprised to find yourself at the diner that you spent the majority of your first few dates at, splitting pieces of pie and talking each other’s ears off for hours.

“Craving some cherry pie?” you asked him curiously. Obviously, this seemed like a task he could’ve handled on his own, coming to the diner himself or having his driver buy and deliver him a whole pie, but you figured that maybe he was simply in the mood for some nostalgic comfort. In the midst of such chaos, you would be happy to give that to him.

“It’s been too long,” he shrugged before grabbing your hand.

Patrick led you to the booth that you declared as yours all those years ago, and began to chat your ear off like normal. While you wanted to think about work, it was surprisingly easy to forget about the real world when you were in such a nostalgic place with him.

The two of you ordered your old usual order, only enhancing the feeling of nostalgia as you shared a plate of painfully average pancakes and a slice of cherry pie.

“Ew, what is that?” you laughed after you bit into something hard and gross. “This fucking place,” you muttered, looking for a napkin that you could spit out whatever it was that you almost just consumed.

When you glanced down at the napkin, you were shocked to find what looked like a metal ring covered in cherry syrup. “Oh shit. Do you think this belonged to someone?”

Once you looked up, you were shocked to find Patrick holding a black velvet box, one that you’d seen before nearly a year ago as you deep-cleaned your shared bedroom, one that you chalked up as a gift for his mother or a friend.

“Patrick?” you asked, clearly confused. He parroted your name right back to you and opened up the box, showing you one of the most beautiful rings you ever laid your eyes on.

Suddenly, it made sense why he asked you to come out with him, interrupting you in the middle of the day to take you to a diner where you shared so many memories. Sure, he could’ve waited until you got off work, but you figured he was thinking about your conversation from the morning and wanted to do something that would show you how much he truly cared about you. He’d always been better at bigger gestures than verbally sharing his feelings, so part of you remained unsurprised.

“I first fell in love with you here, so it only felt right to bring you back here to ask you to marry me?” he explained, not breaking eye contact with you. He was never one for a soapbox when it came to sharing his feelings, so his proposal was short and straight to the point. Though, you wondered if he had more words prepared that he simply couldn’t get out. Based on the speed of his leg bouncing under the table, you knew that Patrick was nervous out of his mind—despite him already knowing what your answer was.

You recalled what Patrick told you in the hospital about not wanting your proposal to be the memory—the memory you told others about when you shared the news, or fondly recalled to your kids in ten years when you reminisced on your love story.

If accepting his proposal now, and acting like his proposal was the only proposal made him feel better, you didn’t see any reason why you wouldn’t fully lean into it.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, genuinely being surprised at the offer, but playing up your excitement for the sake of your nervous fiancé. “Of course I’ll marry you, Pat.”

Patrick broke into a toothy grin, his excitement contagious to you. “Give me your hand,” he directed, taking the ring out of the box.

He slipped the ring onto your finger, and it somehow looked even better on your finger than it did in the box. You looked at it in amazement curling and uncurling your hand to look at the ring from all of its angles.

“It’s gorgeous, Patrick. Thank you,” you told him earnestly as you looked from your hand to him. You weren’t surprised by the quality of the ring or even that he found something that you liked so much. Growing up with lavish gifts constantly being given as an expression of ‘love’ made Patrick pretty damn good at giving you gifts. As for the other expressions of love… he wasn’t the best. But he was very obviously trying his best for you, and you loved that about him.

In some ways, your proposals felt like the perfect encapsulation of your roles in your relationship. While you offered Patrick a ring with little monetary, but high emotional value, he gave you a ring that was probably more expensive than you could ever fathom, that didn’t have the same emotional ties that your family heirloom of a ring did.

Beyond the appearance or symbolism behind your rings, and despite your very different proposals, you were ecstatic to be engaged to Patrick. It only felt right that after years of loving the man, you two were finally making things official in the legal sense.

As you peered at your shyly smiling fiancé, you couldn’t help but break out into a grin yourself. You underestimated just how exciting it would be for you to be starting a new chapter of your relationship.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig headcanon #patrick zweig smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #challengers fic #reader insert #josh o'connor x reader

294 notes · View notes

chubs-deuce · 16 days

Text

I watched the minecraft movie trailer And I Have Thoughts™

none of them are good lmao

why are we pulling a handful of "real life" humans into a video game... can't we just do "guy wakes up somewhere and has to survive with minecraft logic"? You could easily make him find hints towards an ancient curse keeping all 3 realms enslaved or whatever and then have him work his way towards the end where he fights the dragon, like- not only is this the LITERAL plot of minecraft, it's also a very compelling adventure story??? ALSO. DRAGONS. BIG END BOSS BATTLE. HELLO???

tell me you've never looked at minecraft terrain generation up close without telling me you've never looked at minecraft terrain generation up close bc whatever they decided to do just looks DEEPLY WRONG. Like if you're gonna go stylized at least be fucking consistent with the source material? Minecraft is built (pun intended) on 1x1 blocks, why does this movie's landscape look like everything grows and forms like pyrite

why are piglins trying to raid the overworld??? 1) they would zombify within 15 seconds 2) piglins don't even attack unless provoked 3) THIS IS ILLAGER ERASURE 4) they aren't even wearing gold armor...

the cast look like randomly generated sims, get Jason a better wig at least for fucks sake!

they bleached steve minecraft :(

something tells me the humor will be a cringefest filled with outdated meme references people haven't cared about in 10 years

it's concerning that we see no hints at other typical minecraft mobs beyond creepers and the nether ones... The complete lack of even just implied endermen presence makes me feel like the entirety of the end dimension isn't even gonna come up as a passing subject :(

I honestly had no hopes for this movie to begin with, but seeing it botched so hard still stings...

It's like a minecraft flavored jumanji movie but worse, bc the actual minecraft "flavor" experienced so much corporate dilution and had so little thought put into it that they might as well not have fucking bothered at all...

I am hoping beyond hope that this movie will flop so fucking hard, give it the morbius treatment of not even granting it hatewatch revenue

This movie should've been a visual love letter to a wildly beloved and insanely influential video game classic, not shallow kids entertainment CGI slop that looks like someone lovelessly based it off of a CEO's poorly researched summary of what A Mined Craft is and then pulled like 6 screenshots to work off of D:< giving it the sonic movie treatment won't be enough, these guys would have to make a whole new movie with how much shit needs fixing

#minecraft movie #chubs rambles #crying they botched this so hard

149 notes · View notes

dawn-moths · 2 months

Note

hi can i please request something with tomura (I’ve been seeing you say you want to write for him again lol plus i love him to so) like maybe something soft and comforting but also with smut in it?

hellooooo (*ˊᗜˋﾉﾉ

yes you absolutely can! thank you for giving into my current hyperfixation lol he has been on my mind sooooo much lately. probably in order to cope with what happened with the source material…

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“Inside the Open Window”

Tomura x afab Reader

word count: 2,000+

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! size difference mentioned, soft tomura, some smut, some angst, established relationship, afab reader.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The room, for once, is filled with honeyed light. You blink open bleary eyes and stare out into the shallow pools of morning puddling in swaying shapes on the floor, vision slowly focusing until you catch the lazy swirls of dust motes dancing through the air. You keep telling Tomura to open some windows, let the fresh air in before it gets too cold and you all end up even more cooped up than you already feel you are on the daily, but he’s stubborn about it so you have to sneak his open a crack when he’s not around. So far he hasn’t noticed. Maybe you’ll risk sliding it up a little further this afternoon.

Beside you, you can hear Tomura’s slow, shallow breathing from where he lays, one of his arms slung across your middle, elbow resting in the dip of your waist as you lay on your side, your back almost touching his chest. You find his hand where it’s carefully placed up near your own chest, fingers curled tightly inward even though he wears those two-fingered gloves whenever you two sleep together. You tell him you trust him, that he’s spent a majority of his life learning to sleep through the night without decaying anything while unconscious, but he says having your trust isn’t the deciding factor.

“I don’t trust myself,” he’d snapped one evening when you were pressing him about it, trying to come from a place of reassurance but inevitably pushing him a little too far. “You don’t understand,” he’d continued, after a short huff of a sigh and a trembling hand raked back through his unruly waves. “It’s just— If that were to happen, I can’t take it back. I can’t take it back. I—”

You’d approached him, slow and cautious, like he was an injured animal that looked vulnerable right now but, once within reach, might thrash and snap, bare its teeth and bite down hard. “Tomura…” you’d murmured, reaching out a hand, testing to see if he’d let you place it on his cheek. “It’s ok…” He’d leaned into your touch, let his eyes flutter closed, his next exhale coming out as a shaking, raspy whine. You’d gently pulled him down until your foreheads were touching, hoping that simple act helped to make at least some of his fear melt away, the terror pulling back from shore for a short while even if its return was inevitable. You’d let the silence settle between you two before you’d said, your voice barely above a whisper, “I know…”

So he slipped on the gloves, you buckling them in place around his thin wrists, and from then on some of the tension he held whenever he’s around you disappears.

The first touch is always the hardest though.

It’s always the scariest.

It’s as if he worries the rules of his quirk will suddenly change, that needing all five fingers in order to decay will mutate into needing only one and he’ll be forced to helplessly watch you crumble to dust between his destructive hands, frantically trying to gather up the particles as if he could use them to reconstruct you somehow, or maybe just to keep a part of who you used to be, if worse came to worst.

But once his hand— palm, fingers, and all— was safely resting against the side of your neck, he allowed himself to feel some relief.

Because, like that, you could be his.

Like that, he could hold you.

You stiffly shimmy out from beneath his arm, making sure to carefully lift the limb and set it comfortably back down close to him. You stand, greeted by the quiet crackling pops of a few joints, and make your way over to that cracked window. You glance behind you. Tomura’s still asleep. So you catch the lip of the window with the edge of your grip and pull upward, struggling for a moment before it finally gives and slides all the way to the top, the rush of sound quick but louder than you were hoping for.

When you look over your shoulder again, you see Tomura’s eyes are open now, looking fully alert in just an instant, though his body remains still and frozen in the same position that you left it, tufts of white hair hanging at odd angles in his eyes and over his shoulder.

“Sorry…” you wince, coming back over to sit on the bed beside him. He begins to stir, turns over onto his chest to push up onto his elbows, the tousled sheets slipping and exposing more of his pale back, the scars cross-hatching across the skin shining faintly silver in the morning’s soft glow.

“You can go back to bed if you want to,” you tell him, feeling guilty for waking him so soon. You know he’s usually one to sleep into the afternoon and beyond.

He clicks on your phone, 8:15 lighting up on the screen before fading to black again. “It’s fine,” he sighs, turning over again to sit up, slouching over a bit as he rubs at the back of his neck, fingers getting caught in a loose knot in his hair as he combs it through, letting out a pronounced yawn. He looks at you as you shuffle closer and asks, “How long have you been up?”

“Not long,” you tell him. “Only a few more minutes before you.”

Tomura opens his mouth, about to say something, but stops when you both hear one of the other members of the League creaking around from downstairs. You’re willing to bet it’s Atsuhiro. He’s the only regularly early-rising person among you.

Whatever words Tomura was going to speak are reduced to a low rumble of annoyance and the clenching of his jaw, as if he’s just been reminded of something he’d been trying to avoid.

In this small bout of contemplation, Tomura shifts from beneath the covers and swings his legs over the side of the bed, bending down to grab up the bundle of black denim on the floor which unfurl into his jeans, fishing out his phone from the back pocket and turning it on only to be greeted with an abundance of notifications. Instead of reading them, he mutters something under his breath and tosses it onto the nearby side table, leaning forward to give you a better view of his back again. Now that you’re closer, you can better see the fading red scratch tracks that travel down his shoulders, though for once the marks weren’t made by his own jagged nails.

The sight of it takes you back to last night, when the room had been doused in silver instead of gold and filled to the brim with the quiet, lilting sounds of your combined pleasure. You could still feel the ghost of him wrapped around you, encasing you in his scent, his touch, his very essence as if attempting to meld you both into one.

But, like most things, no matter how much you tried to tell him he didn’t need to be so delicate with you, doesn’t need to treat you like you’re one touch away from being broken, he doesn’t listen. He’s so gentle, even as his hips meet the inside of your thighs and he drives himself into your tight, wet heat even deeper, as if hoping to burrow a new home inside of you, to leave a piece of himself there so you’ll always carry it around.

Your moans are perhaps his favorite sound in the entire world, hearing the way they break off into a clipped whimper when he hits that soft, spongy spot deep inside of you, his own moans choked out as your silky walls squeeze around his length, wringing pleasure from him in a way that’s both relentless and heavenly.

When you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper still, he’s on the verge of losing any ounce of control he has left, tempted to take your wrists and pin them above your head so he can pound into you hard enough to well tears in your eyes and have you crying out in a way that’s helpless and hurting and all his, his, his.

But when he looks down at you, sees that telltale trust that reflects back at him in your gaze, he keeps the more carnal parts of his desires at bay. Because, while he may take pride in being a symbol of fear to the rest of the world, if there’s only one person he doesn’t want to view him like that, it’s you.

When you come undone, arching your back as your mouth hangs open with a silent scream, that’s when your nails rake across his flesh quick and hard, not quite breaking the skin but bursting the blood vessels beneath, a speckling of bright red stippling the tracks of a slightly lighter shade.

He’d let out a hiss followed mere moments later by his own body letting go, a broken whine welling in his throat, the types of sounds he only allows you to hear him make. You’d forgotten you’d scratched him so hard last night almost as soon as it had happened, your mind glazed over with a thick layer of pleasure and saccharine lust, the world around you blurring until the only thing you could seem to make out through the dim dark of the room was him and all that alabaster, scar-covered skin sheened over with sweat.

Now, Tomura beckons you back into his embrace, wanting to feel the warmth of your body seeping into his one more time before he’s forced to rise from his bed and slip back into the cold, hardened role of being the leader of the most feared group of villains in the entire country, perhaps even the entire world.

You’re wearing his t-shirt, the soft black fabric oversized on your form, nothing underneath, the rest of your clothes still left discarded and strewn across the room in a trail from the door to the foot of the bed. Like this, you’re enveloped in his scent, and it leaves you feeling calm and sated. Safe. Like nothing inside of these four walls could ever go wrong.

But you really should’ve known better.

The moment you start to get even a little too comfortable is always when something rears its head to remind you there are no happy endings here.

After a while of listening to your steady breathing and staring out the open window, Tomura works up the courage to say, “Today’s the day, y’know…” hence breaking the illusion that you’d be allowed to live in the fantasy of this haven for more than a single night’s rest.

You close your eyes, let out a long breath, trying to stay your worry. “I know,” you tell him. “I know, but, Tomura…” You turn your face up towards his, hoping to lock eyes with him, even if only for a moment, but he’s still focused on the window he rarely lets you open, furrowing his sparse, silvery brow in a look of intense concentration. Eventually, however, he does look at you, the intensity he held before melting away into something much more concerned.

Be careful, you want to tell him.

If things start to go wrong just get out. Don’t risk letting the heroes get their hands on you.

But what comes out instead is, “Nothing, nevermind…”

You figure he has enough to worry about already. You know he’s fully aware of the risks of this mission and the consequences that will follow if he fails.

So, for now, you allow yourself to sit in this false sense of security and serenity a little longer, whether for another minute, another hour, another day.

He won’t fail, you tell yourself as he places a kiss to the top of your head and smoothes down your hair, rising from the bed and gathering up more scattered articles of his clothing to slip back on before heading downstairs. He can’t.

You then regret opening the window. Perhaps, if you’d left it alone, you could’ve bought a few more hours of peace before the weight of responsibility settled in.

But, at the same time, you also knew that you were both on borrowed time.

Why not enjoy what moments of fresh air and sunlight you could get before it all was reduced to rubble and ash.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

283 notes · View notes

hollowingearth · 6 months

Text

I'm sorry but the more I think about the Rebirth ending the more I love it actually like. The whole trilogy has been a meta commentary of sorts and, specially, Aerith's death is at the epicenter of it. She both dies and doesn't die exactly because us, as an audience, want both things to happen.

People have been clamoring to be able to save Aerith since 1997, there were fake hidden hacks, AU fictions, retellings, everything. Everyone has been at Squeenix's doorsteps begging them to let us save her. Like, it's at a point where the "Square will let us save Aerith if you pay for the DLC" joke is much more than a decade old.

On the other side, there's this very expressive unwant for any change whatsoever from the source material. It's not a feeling that is exclusive to FF7 either, there's this very clear pushback against any new remake/adaptation that deviates, even slightly, from it's original. People don't want new content, they want the old one they experienced when they were younger, but prettier, they want to both feel the nostalgia and experience everything as if for the first time again.

From that camp, I think the most prominent argument is that FF7 is about loss, right? And they're not wrong. Aerith's death is the crux of the story, it's the very thing that made FF7 as known as it is, there would be no actual weight to what it's trying to tell if the heroine doesn't die in the middle of it, an unexpected, hurtful, avoidable death. What's the point of a narrative about grief if you can just... avoid losing someone? Avoid having it be cruelly taken from you?

And yet, you see, if want someone to die, if you want something to be taken from you, are you really losing it? In the original, part of the impact was that no one could see it coming, it was a straight representation about how death is sudden and takes away opportunity from you. Aerith doesn't go into the sleeping forest willing to make a sacrifice for the greater good, she has barely started her adventure, she makes a promise to go on the highwind, the group is one location away from finding out more about her ancestry and her family.

That's not true for the remake, tho. Everyone knows about her fate, about what is going to happen to her. That's probably the most spoiled moment in video game history. I personally knew about her death before I truly understood what Final Fantasy even was. So now we have an audience that is extremely aware of what, when and how her death is going to happen. That's why the Confluence of Worlds is put at that moment, because it's the single most expected moment in the entire triology, it's the one moment that made the narrative resonate so well.

The impact is impossible to recreate now, even for newer fans of the series. People want a 1:1 retranslation but such a thing would always be a gimmicky shadow of it's original. It's why the focus shifts, now the most emotionally impactful scene is not the killing of her but of her goodbye, in the church after the dream date. "Thank you," Aerith echoes "It's been fun", a callback to her conclusion on Remake where she says "I'm grateful for all the words we shared. All the moments and the memories. You've made me more happy than you know."

So she dies and she doesn't, both at the same time. Effectively in limbo now, narratively explained by lifestream shenaningans. We put her there ourselves, by refusing to move on, refusing to accept her death but also refusing to change, allowing a different outcome. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing, at least, Aerith's words sound like the very sincere feelings of the developers, who are grateful for all the love we all have powered into their work all these years.

I just love it so much, I could spend hours talking about it.

#ff7 rebirth #ff7 rebirth spoilers #ff7 remake #final fantasy vii #aerith gainsborough #aerith #meta analysis #ff7

273 notes · View notes

aerynwrites · 11 months

Text

Masquerade of Liars

Dad!Gale x Fem!Reader

A/N: Had to do a little something for Halloween! So i found out Faerun has their own kind of Halloween called Liars Night or Masquerade of Liars. Here’s a link if you want to read more about it, it’s actually super cool! But I also just wanted to write some soft Dad!Gale after so many of you seemed to enjoy that one shot of him finding out reader was pregnant. So hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is referred to as mother/mum.

*not beta read, sorry for any grammatical errors*

The smell of sulfur fills your nose as you strike a match to light the small wax candles before you. You light the wicks before shaking the match to douse the flame, and grabbing one of the lit candles.

“Cassias!” You call, moving to place the light source inside of your son’s pumpkin. “Are you almost ready? We need to go. Gale-!”

Your husband materializes just as you call his name, his lips against your own cutting off your words. You sigh when you pull away, smiling despite yourself as you place the last two candles in the remaining pumpkins.

“Did you help Cas with his costume?” You ask, looking over the carved orange spheres before you, making sure they look alright before you put them outside.

Gale lets out a quiet laugh as he shrugs his shoulders, “I tried, but he could not be swayed to accept my assistance. He wanted to do it himself.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes playfully, “He is definitely your son - stubborn.”

Gale lets out a small scoff, as he steps forward to wrap his arms around your waist. “Me? Stubborn? I think he gets that from you, my love.”

You let out a low hum, as you reach up to straighten the collar of his robe, “I suppose he gets it from the both of us.”

Gale smiles. “That’s better,” he says, before leaning in to kiss you again.

You relish in the somewhat quiet moment in your lover’s arms, knowing that the rest of the night will be full of excitement and noise.

The approaching thunder of footsteps coming down the stone steps of the tower make you separate from one another, but not before you press one last kiss to his cheek.

“I’m coming!” You son calls as he barrels down the stairs, nearly tripping over the tail of his costume as he hits the floor.

You instinctively reach out for him, but he’s righted himself before you can help, and you’re unable to stifle the grin that splits your lips as you take in the costume Cassian wears.

He insisted on being a dragon. A red dragon specifically. And it had to have horns, and giant wings.

And well…who were you to deny him?

His mask looked like that of a red dragon, tall pointed black horns rising from the top of it, even pointy teeth peeking out of the creature's mouth. The rest of his costume was just as elaborate, you and Cassian having worked on it for weeks leading up to the Masquerade of Liars. His shirt and pants are lined with hundreds of small metal scales that glint in the candle light. He even has a tale pinned to his pants, which may prove to be more of a hindrance now that you see it dragging the ground.

Even Gale helped with the costume, adding his own magical flare in the form of gentle smoke coming from the mask's mouth as if Cassian could breathe fire.

“Look, father look!” Cassian jumps around in his costume, the scales tinkling softly as he does so and reflecting a beautiful dappled light pattern all through the kitchen.

Gale ‘ooo’s’ and ‘ah’s’ at his son’s costume before picking the child up and smiling at the giggles that pour out from behind the mask.

“You’re just as fearsome as the legendary Ansur of Baldur’s Gate,” Gale tells him seriously before reaching up to tilt the mask up to the top of Cassian's head, revealing his face to you both.

Cassian is basically a spitting image of Gale. Warm brown eyes and dark hair. Gale insists he got your nose though, and your smile, which you’re happy about if not a little begrudging. You carried him for nine months! The least the gods could have done is given him your eyes…

But you wouldn’t change a thing, not really. Cassian has turned into a wonderful child, all chubby cheeks and laughter and kindness. Even now you watch in silent admiration as Cassian talks animatedly with his father. Despite being only six his vocabulary is as big as Gales.

“Are you ready for a night of trickery and lies?” Gale asks, voice dropping to a playfully low octave.

Cassian nods, eyes lighting up. “And candy!”

Glae laughs, moving to set Cassian back on his feet. “And candy of course. Do you have room in your pockets?”

Cassian nods fervently, face serious as he pats both pockets on his costume. “I even have candy in my other pocket so no one steals our coin.”

You stifle a laugh at the seriousness with which Cassian takes the holiday.

Liars night, though now more commonly known as the Masquerade of Liars is a night to pay tribute to the dirties Leira and Mask. While it started centuries ago as a more serious holiday it’s evolved into more of a fun tradition to celebrate the gods.

The particular tradition Cassian is referring to is pickpocketing. It used to be so common back when the holiday was first created that people started keeping candy in their pockets instead of coins - this soon evolved into people taking the candy and leaving behind trinkets or a small note in return.

Now most people just give the candy out, especially to children. But the occasional trinket still makes it into a pocket here or there - and you aren’t about to ruin his fun.

“Very good, Cas!” You praise, turning to face the carved pumpkins once more. “We should be ready to go once we put the pumpkins on the doorstep. Do you want to carry yours?”

“Yes, yes! Can I?” He reaches his hands up expectantly, and you smile, looking over at Gale.

“What do you think, my love?”

Gale nods, a smile matching your own on his face as he takes Cassian’s pumpkins from the counter. “I think a dragon as fearsome as Cassian can carry his own pumpkin to the stoop this year.”

Cassian cheers and takes the pumpkin carefully in his arms, Gale keeping a watchful eye until he’s sure he has a secure hold on it.

You take your pumpkins and Gale takes his as you all move to the front door of the tower, moving slowly to keep the candles lit.

“Be careful Cas,” you say, following close behind. “You don’t want the candle to blow out, remember?”

“I remember, mum,” he says, “It’s bad luck.”

You nod as Gale reaches out with one hand to open the door for all of you, the cool night air kissing your skin. “That’s right.”

You watch as Cassian moves to set his pumpkin at the top of the stairs right next to the door, turning it this way and that until he’s happy with the placement. You and Gale place yours nearby before locking the door and taking Cassian’s hands in your own.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, you all turn to look at the small display, the candles flickering gently in the night. Cassian hops impatiently between you and your husband, his little hands squeezing yours tightly.

“Can we go?” He asks, excitement bleeding into his words.

You chuckle and nod. “Of course. We wouldn’t want to miss the festivities.”

The three of you walk from your home towards Waterdeeps town square. While the night is celebrated throughout the city, most people gather in the square. Vendors set up to sell food or other festive items and children run around trying to collect as much candy as they can in one night. Even the adults partake in the costumes and activities. You and Gale have dressed up in the past, but this year you decided to forgo a disguise.

Cassian chats animatedly as you make your way down the quiet streets, the sounds of celebration getting louder the closer you get to the center of Waterdeep. His steps get more impatient until eventually, both you and Gale are stumbling to keep up with the energetic child as you finally reach your destination.

The square is decorated for the holiday, lanterns hanging all around, and some even floating in the air thanks to some other magic wielders. Autumnal colored banners and draping shirt line the various vendor stalls and the fountain at the center, and lively music fills the square as well.

Cassian breaks away from you and Gale when he spots one of his friends, a little tiefling boy named Allon who looks to be dressed as an owlbear.

Gale laughs as you both follow him, watching as he embraces his friend before gesturing excitedly at their costumes. “I don’t understand where all that energy comes from - it surely doesn’t come from me.”

You let out a chuckle of your own as you stand a few paces back to let Cassian talk to his friend. “That’s just how children are, I’m afraid. But it dies down. Eventually.”

Gale just hums quietly in response, watching your son with adoring eyes as he and Allon take turns roaring at each other.

You remember a time many years ago when Gale told you he didn’t feel like he was father material. Granted it was in the middle of some tumultuous times for everyone, but you had thought he truly meant it. And despite him being overjoyed when you told him you were pregnant with Cassian several years ago you couldn’t help but worry those doubts would creep back in.

But they never did.

Gale took to fatherhood like a fish to water. Despite it being a learning curve for the both of you, he took everything in stride and a new glow settled into his being. Even in his most dour moods from hours of fruitless research or a failed spell experiment, his face would always light up at the sight of his son.

This adoration just seemed to grow as Cassian got older, the boy taking after his father in almost everything. You remember thinking that Gale was going to die of happiness when Cassian started to show an affinity for magic and a certain connection to the weave.

You know he would have been happy even if Cassian showed no interest in the weave or magic in general, but the fact that he does has only pulled the two of them closer.

“Mr. Dekarios!”

Allon’s voice pulls you from your reverie, watching as him and Cassian come running up to you and Gale. You look past him to see his parents watching you all and give them a small wave which they return.

Gale takes his hand from your own as the boy approaches and crouches down to his level.

“Yes, Allon?”

The boy, whose mask is tipped up to sit on top of his head, looks slightly sheepish as he looks at Gale.

“Can you show me that magic trick again?” He asks politely.

Gale feigns to think for a moment, hand on his chin as he scratches his beard. “Do you mean this one?”

With a flick of his wrist and a faint purple aura, Gale produces a small foil wrapped chocolate in the palm of his hand just to the side of Allon’s face. The tiefling giggles in delight before snatching the candy and stuffing it in his mouth.

You hear a small gasp come from behind him as his mother approaches, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Allon, what do you say?”

His eyes widen as he speaks around the chocolate in his mouth. “-‘fank you.”

Gale laughs before pulling two more chocolates from his robe and handing them to him. “You’re most welcome.”

Allon’s mother gives you both a small apology before leading her son back to where her husband stands.

Gale’s trick for Allon starts to attract a small crowd of children, all of them begging to see him do more tricks and other magical displays. Your wizard stands next to you as the gaggle grows, a huge grin splitting his lips as he complies with the tiny demands.

He pulls candy out of thin air, handing them to the small grabby hands that reach out before moving to pull hard candy’s from behind some children’s ears or even making them appear right in their pockets. You watch from a few feet away, as Cassian fights his way to the front of the crowd. Gal hoists him into his arms and pauses his display as yours son leans in to whisper in his ear.

Gale’s eyes light up, and he nods. “That sounds like a grand idea, Cassian. Would you like to help me?”

At the prospect of helping his father with magic, Cassian nods fervently, his mask shaking funnily on his face. Gale instructs the other children to back up just a few feet before setting Cassian down beside him. He turns to face him and takes his little hands in his own, palms facing up.

“Now, remember,” he instructs gently, “You have to think about it very hard, try to picture it in your head.”

Cassian nods firmly, and you can practically picture the look of serious determination on his face.

Gale continues. “And remember, do not be discouraged if it does not work because…”

“I’m still learning and mistakes are okay,” Cassian recites the words Gale tells him so often.

Gale smiles, squeezing Cassian’s hands. “That’s right. Now, are you ready?”

Cassian nods again and Gale turns to face the small crowd, which has now grown to include adults as well. You’ve now moved to join the crowd a few paces back from the front row of children in order to watch your family. You bite the inside of your cheek, hoping that Cassian isn’t nervous in any way.

Gale places both hands out in front of him, palms together and waits as Cassian mimics him. After a moment of concentration he separates his hands to reveal a small area of purple and blue light. You wait for Cassian to do the same but find yourself slightly perplexed when he stays still, his hands held firmly together in front of him.

You watch as Gale whispers something to him before he thrusts his hands skywards ending out a cascade of purple and blue light that settles over the crowd. Moments later you watch as Cassian does the same but instead, pure starlight springs out from his palms, creating a magical night sky above the square as the pinpricks of bright white light settle among the colorful aurora.

Cheers and gasps of pleasure erupt from the crowd, but you don’t stay to watch their faces as they marvel at the magic. You’re already rushing forward, taking Cassian in your arms as you gasp.

“Cassian, that was amazing!” You praise, hugging him close before looking at Gale who gazes proudly at his son. “When did you learn to do that?”

Cassian pulls away so he can look at you, tugging his mask up so his brown eyes can look into your own, excitement and utter joy sparkling in his eyes.

“I’ve been practicing for over a tenday!” He says proudly.

Finally gale approaches, finally free from attention as they all marvel at his handiwork. “It’s true. He would not rest until he was sure he could do it,” he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. “In fact it was you he wanted to surprise most.”

You smile and turn to look at your son again. “Well consider me surprised,” you tell him before peppering his face with kisses, causing him to squeal. “I’m so, so proud of you, Cas.”

“Muuum!” He whines, causing you to relent in your barage of kisses.

“Okay, okay,” you say, moving to set him back on his feet. “Why don’t we go explore the rest of the square? I think I saw someone selling cinnamon buns…”

At the mention of his favorite treat, Cassian’s face lights up again and he tugs his mask back down as he grabs your and Gale’s hand in each of his one.

“Yes! Let’s go, let’s go!”

———

The moon is high in the sky by the time you three make your way home. Cassian is sound asleep in Gale’s arms, pockets building with candy, and chocolate staining the corners of his mouth.

You approach the tower soon enough, the facing flicker of three candles greeting you through the carved mouths of the pumpkins. You smile as you make your way up the steps, getting the door for Gale before following them both inside.

You follow them up to Cassian’s room and help Gale gently remove his costume, careful not to wake him. But despite your best efforts, just as you're tucking him into bed, Cassian stirs awake.

His eyes flutter slowly as his hands come up to tug the blanket further around him.

“Did the candles go out?” He asks sleepily.

You shake your head, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Nope. They’re still lit, my love. No bad luck this year.”

Cassian nods before turning onto his side, eyes slipping closed as he falls right back asleep.

You smile and press another kiss to his forehead, Gale doing the same before blowing out the candles and leaving the room, leaving the door cracked so a small amount of light can filter in from the hallway.

You both move about readying for bed once Cassian is settled, neither of you speaking as sleep starts to tug at your minds as well. Only when you’re settled beneath the covers with Gale’s arms snaking around you do you finally break the silence.

“You’re an amazing father,” you tell him softly, lips brushing against his own.

Gale is silent for a moment, eyes trailing over your face before his eyes slip closed and he pulls you closer, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“That is praise most high - praise I sometimes still feel unworthy of.”

You shake your head, wrapping around him further. “You deserve that and more, my love.”

He presses a kiss to your neck, the underside of your jaw, before eventually pulling away to capture your lips with his own. It’s a slow, languid kiss, both of you just taking each other in until finally breaking apart and settling against the pillows.

“I love you,” gale says simply, pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, for giving me this. Giving me a family.”

Your heart swells at his words and you move to bury your face in his chest, wanting him as close as possible.

“I love you too.”

#gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #bg3 gale x reader #bg3 x reader #gale #bg3 #bg3 gale

503 notes · View notes

runningfrom2am · 8 months

Text

cold nights // part eighteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: hiii posting this early bc bestie and i are ab to start a 24 hour readathon! if i'm not active for the next day, that would be why. anyway wish us luck!! also i didn't edit this as thoroughly as i should have so i'm sorry lol

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

You called out of work indefinitely, after that. You didn't want to quit, you wanted to love your job and you honestly couldn't see yourself doing anything else but right now, you just couldn't. Luckily, the girls who worked down at the library were incredibly understanding according to Lennox, who was sent to deliver your letter of leave and apology.

It had been close to a week when you finally ventured out to the back porch to read rather than rotting in bed all day staring at the ceiling. Your mother made you tea, and insisted she come sit with you. You enjoyed the company.

"Would you like to talk about it?" She asks, just as you're turning the page. Under normal circumstances, you'd resort to Romeo and Juliet, but now you feel like you couldn't stomach it. So, Much Ado About Nothing would have to suffice.

"I'm okay, Ma." You say softly, giving a slight shake over your head as your eyes fly over the faded lettering on the page.

"Lennox told us what happened, you know." She adds after a beat of silence.

You look up at her, frowning. "I'm sorry. He wasn't supposed to tell anyone."

"Don't be, dear." She shakes her head quickly, gently resting a hand on your thigh. "I wish you had told us. I wouldn't have invited him in that day, I could have told you he stopped by and we could have made a plan. I shouldn't have sprung that on you."

You sigh, pursing your lips and closing your book. "I didn't want you to dislike him, that's why I didn't tell you. I thought... I wanted to come home with at least something positive to talk about. And I thought that if I gave it enough time, thinking positively about him, I could try to contact him without seeing... that."

She smiles sadly at you. "You really love him, huh?"

"How could I not?" You admit quietly, staring at the cover of the book on your lap. "He was the first person there to show me kindness, to make me feel like I wasn't alone." You explain. "It felt... Like Romeo and Juliet. Star-crossed lovers, because of course I didn't think I could really have him. I was living in a dream, in a way."

"And now?" She prompts you to continue, thrilled that you are finally opening up.

"Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps."

She chuckles, gently rubbing your leg. "So that's a yes, then."

"How I wish it was not." You groan, reaching for your cup to drown your predicament in tea.

"Your brother," She sighs, gently removing the book from your lap. "came home that night just... just shaking with anger. And he looked me and your father in the eyes and said he was going to kill Coriolanus. He was set on it." She explains, and you look at her.

"He said that?" You ask, and she nods.

"I could see it in his eyes, he meant it, and we were so confused. Because, after all, it had been Coriolanus and Sejanus who came to the door seeking help for you, and your father told me Coryo looked like a ghost- bless him." She chuckles slightly.

"What I mean is... Your brother is not immune to violence, either. He would hurt someone for you, I know it. Just because you don't wish him to, doesn't mean he doesn't love you so much that he would do anything." You mull over her statement, chewing passively on your lip. "And boys... boys just do things differently than you and I would. Or Lucy Gray would. I bet if you asked her about Billy Taupe, Tam Amber, or little Clerk Carmine, that she'd tell you they've all had their moments. But boys aren't treated fair in this life, so sometimes, they don't fight fair."

"Coriolanus killed someone, Ma."

"Why?" She asks. "Lennox told me you saw it. Why did he kill that boy?"

"Because..." You shake your head. "He was trying to kill him, first."

"Okay, well-"

"But that I can understand, given the circumstances." You quickly explain, guilt settling in your stomach like a weight as you put your mug back down. "It was after. Bobbin had so clearly already passed on, and he hit him again. It was anger, and it was not necessary. A waste of precious time he didn't have but he did it anyway and that... that scared me."

She hums, listening to you intently. "If it helps, dear, and this is my honest feelings... I still think he is a good man, with a good heart." She says. "I know what you've seen is... gosh, it's unfathomable, and I wish I could take that pain from you, but I really do think that if you still feel anything for him you should talk to him."

Your eyes snap up to hers, and you look scared.

"I've only met him once, but gosh, the way he looks at you, and how he spoke about you, he thinks you put the stars in the sky." She grins, trying to relax you by taking your hand. "No problems have ever solved by hiding. And even if you turn out to be correct, that he's never been who you thought he was, you'll get peace by having answers. And even so, he deserves that peace too."

"I... I'll think about it." You nod softly, reaching for your book again.

"Hello? Boys?" Lucy Gray calls out, walking into the small house Coryo and Sejanus have been occupying.

"In here!" Sejanus calls back, and she follows his voice into the small kitchen where he's attempting to make something to eat.

"Ooh, what's for lunch?" She asks, sitting herself down at the dining room table.

"Eggs... I think." Sejanus laughs. Lucy Gray had been coming by to try and keep them company, and she did really like spending time with Sejanus. Coryo didn't have a whole lot to say, though.

"Yum." She giggles, sitting up straight to look into the pan. "Where's Coriolanus?"

"Guess."

"On the back porch staring at the trees?"

"Pretty much."

Lucy Gray sighs, pushing herself up. "Okay, well, The Covey and I are going to the lake tomorrow. It's a hike out, but it's beautiful. You guys should come."

"I'll be there, but I don't know if we can convince blondie." Sejanus nods toward the back door.

"Oh, I'll convince him." She smiles smugly, brushing past him and out the door.

Lucy Gray finds out quickly that apparently she had guessed wrong- he was sitting on the porch, like he had been every day, but today he was reading rather than just staring out at the mountains. "What are ya readin'?" She asks, standing in front of him.

"Nothing that's any of your business." He grumbles, not looking up from the pages of the worn down book.

She leans over him, attempting to read it upside down. "Ah." She grins. "Romeo and Juliet? Good choice."

"What do you need, Lucy Gray?" He asks, closing the book and glaring up at her.

"I've come to extend and invitation to you, we're all going to the lake tomorrow. I think you should come."

"No, thank you."

She rolls her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. "You didn't chop off all those beautiful gold curls just so you could never see Y/N again, did you?"

His eyes visibly brighten at that, only for a moment. "She's going?" This was the chance he was waiting for. He intended to go to your house that following morning, maybe pick up flowers on the way, a book, or some kind of peace offering, but Sejanus and Lucy Gray shut that down very quickly. Even though he cut his hair almost as soon as he got back to this dump they called a house, they said you still needed time.

"Mhm." Lucy Gray nods, smiling at him knowingly. "She hasn't been working, so I was able to book her for the day."

Had Lucy Gray talked to you about this yet? No. But she knew it would do him some good to get away from this house for a day, whether you were there or not, and she knew that deep down you would want to see him again. A group setting was the best way to do this for everyone. She knew he would be easy to convince, but getting you to agree would be the hard part.

"Okay, okay yeah. I'll come." Coryo nods, looking down. He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he feels like he should be doing something to prepare somehow.

"She's still... sensitive. So be nice."

"I have never not been nice to her."

"Never said you have." Lucy Gray raises an eyebrow at him. "I meant be careful. She may not want to talk to you. I won't tell her you're coming so I can at least get her out the door."

"Why not?" Coryo asks, immediately knowing how stupid that sounds when Lucy Gray lets out a laugh. "I mean, I don't want to scare her off, so she should know. Please be honest with her." He pleads.

Lucy Gray's eyes soften at that. "Okay, you're right. But I'm not tellin' you if she says no. You still have to come." She points at him and he sighs.

"Okay, whatever. Sure."

"You're both just rotting and making it worse for yourselves. You need to get out." She says as she walks back inside, leaving him alone to read.

Coryo smiles to himself as he picks the book up again, continuing where he left off even though he's already read it five or six times.

"You're gonna be fine just fine, Y/N/N. I promise." Lucy Gray assures you as you walk down the path toward the forest where the Covey and Sejanus were waiting. With Coryo.

"I won't let him near ya." Lennox adds, kicking a rock aside as he walks in front of you and your friend.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart. If you want space, tell him. I talked to him about this. He knows not to push you." Lucy Gray whispers to you and you nod, teeth digging into the softness of your cheek.

"I know." You say quietly, arm wrapped around hers. You loved going to the lake, and you've been a couple of times since you've been back, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't hesitant to bring him with you. If it goes poorly, you don't know if you could ever go back.

"Yeah, I gave him a stern talkin' to. Put the fear of god in him, he'll be on his best behaviour." She giggles.

"You didn't actually scare him, did you?" You laugh nervously.

"Of course I did." She says, but you know she's just joking.

"Is Billy Taupe coming?" You ask her after a moment.

Your friend wrinkles up her nose and shakes her head. "No, lord, no." She chuckles. "He's off with that Mayfair. Real class act, they are."

You giggle, squeezing her arm. You take it as they're broken up, at least for now. "I'm sorry, Lucy Gray." You add and feel her shrug under your grip.

"I'm done with him this time." She tells you, shaking her head. "I can't trust him no more."

"One foot in sea and one on shore." You comment and she looks at you, a smile pulling on her lips as she gently pulls you closer, leaning her head on your shoulder.

"Y/N!" Maude Ivory greets the two of you first, running up and throwing her arms around your waist. You jump slightly at the sudden contact, making every effort to catch her with nothing more than a slight gasp and a smile. "I've missed you!"

"Hello, dear." You chuckle, running your hands over the length of her blonde hair. "It's only been a couple of weeks, and you do know where to find me."

"Your friend has a gift for you, come on." She grins, letting you go only to grab your hand and pull you up the rest of the hill.

When Coryo sees you, his instinct is to push his hair back out of his face. That can't happen, so he settles for shifting on his feet and gripping the flower he's holding in his hand as you avoid his gaze and he avoids your brothers. Of course you would hide from him- he doesn't fault you for it. You were nervous, he could tell. And of course Lucy Gray neglected to tell him that Lennox was coming, though, he understood why.

He just wished you were angry at him. That would be far preferable to you being afraid.

"Y/N, hi." Sejanus greets you and you smile at him, giving a quiet wave as you adjust your bag over your shoulder. You packed your book and a blanket with some cherries you picked from the tree behind your house to share with everyone. You can see in your peripheral vision that Coryo has gotten a haircut, but you can't bring yourself to look at him just yet. Or comment on it.

"Alright, let's get movin'! The sun is only up for so long." Lucy Gray claps, not forcing you to have to say hi to Coriolanus before she's urging the group on.

Coryo looks at you as everyone else starts walking, and you nod through everyone to go ahead of you. You hate the idea of having people behind you that you can't see.

Then, finally, your eyes land on him. He smiles, hoping you would want to walk with him.

"Go ahead." You say softly, quickly looking up ahead and Lennox has stopped to wait for you.

"Oh, uh, this is for you." Coryo takes a step closer, holding the yellow daisy out to you that he picked on the walk out. Apparently, you didn't want to walk with him- you just didn't want him behind you. That was a thousand times worse.

You look down at it for a moment, reminding yourself quickly to take it instead of just staring. "Thank you." You reply quietly, delicately plucking the flower from his hold.

"Yeah, of course." He grins, not wanting to give up your attention just yet. "I... I'm really glad you agreed to come."

"It'll be nice. The lake is beautiful." You tell him, glancing over at your brother.

"Come on!" He calls out, impatient. "They're gonna leave us in the dust."

You hold back a sigh as you feel Coryo's eyes on you. You guess you will be walking with him, after all. "Coming!" You smile at him.

It's fine- he's fine. He won't hurt me.

You look up at Coryo, and his eyes are still on you. "Shall we?" He grins, gesturing to the path ahead of you.

Okay, he looks normal. His eyes are normal. Blue, sky blue. Gentle.

"Let us go." You grin at him, holding tightly onto the strap of your bag as it rests across your chest. You look back down at your feet as you walk, mindful of the roots and sticks that may trip or scratch you. You spare a glance at his feet as he joins your side on the narrow path.

Lucy Gray knew that even with her warning that Coryo would likely corner you, but she kept a close eye on you even from up ahead while she talked to Sejanus and practically dragged Lennox along with them so he would give you at least a little bit of space.

You walk in silence for a long time. The trees get thicker as you separate from the meadow and the town, isolating you only further, but you didn't feel unsafe. Not really.

Coryo would take what he could get, but he had to try to talk to you eventually. When he planned out this trip in his head the night before they were set to board the train, he had hoped that the days and nights would be spent together. That you'd say you understood, that you were happy and okay and yes! You would love to take him to the lake you frequented, just the two of you, and 'Oh, we should bring a picnic and just spend the whole day there. It will be so much fun!' And he'd get to see your smile without it quickly fading and he could hold your hand and get that second kiss that he never thought he would receive and everything would be perfect.

He never considered himself much of a dreamer, but something about you made that change. After he got to feel his lips on yours, then on the soft skin of your shoulder and his hands on your waist or locked in yours, there was no going back. He was all yours.

"So," He starts talking after only about an hour of walking. You were almost there, so you took a sharp breath in. You could talk for forty minutes. You could do it. And you wanted to, you remind yourself. "This is quite a hike, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes." You nod. "But we aren't far out now. It's worth it, I promise." You say, eyes still locked on the ground just in front of you.

"Don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful walk, just... long." He comments. "And lots of bugs."

"Yes..." You chuckle nervously.

"What's it like?" He asks, desperate just to continue to hear your voice,

"The lake?" You ask, risking a look up at him. His lips form into a smile and he nods, urging you on. "Well," You swallow, trying to organize every detail you remember from last summer, before the games. "The water is very blue, and quite clear. There's a dock, we have the most fun jumping off of it."

Coryo watches your expression intently, trying to inhale every word. You pause, and your face lights up with remembered joy. "My Pa put a rope swing up here for us kids when we were young, and a few summers ago I went to take it- I climbed as far back up as I could before jumping. Then, I felt the branch jerk and I grabbed it tighter, it ended up wrapped around my leg on the way down and I got stuck." You recall the injury, but you're almost laughing. "I got this massive red burn all up the inside of my thigh, and then Lennox ripped the thing down." You giggle, and Coryo swallows. "He was joking, just pretending to even though it was my own fault, but the branch broke clean off and me and Lucy Gray tried to jump out of the way and ended up falling straight into the water."

He laughs with you at that, shaking his head. "Well, I hope your leg wasn't serious." He watches you and you're quick to shake your head.

"No, gosh no." You giggle. "Not worth pulling the whole thing down over, but it wouldn't have been kind to the next kid who swung- that's for sure. So it was probably for the best."

"Fair enough." He shrugs, eyes still glued onto you.

"I'd rather get a burn then have that big ol' thing fall on Maude Ivory or CC. They were just little at the time." He nods. That sounds just like you.

"So you've been friends for a long time, I take it?"

"Well, yes. Since they got stuck here, pretty much."

"Stuck here?" Coryo asks, looking up ahead at the group that was still just within sight.

You look up as well, just to make sure they weren't in earshot. "The Covey isn't District." You explain, voice lowered. "They used to travel everywhere to perform, but then when they got here peacekeepers rounded them up. Executed all their parents, and the kids got stuck here." You tactically leave out the part about his father being the commanding officer at the time.

"Oh."

"I think that's why Lucy Gray can't get over Billy Taupe." You add quietly, watching your friend as she laughs with Sejanus up ahead. "He's one of them, they have so much history. They're on and off, but she'll never abandon him. Not when they've been through so much together. They're the oldest- they've had to take care of the rest of them for almost their whole lives."

Coryo doesn't know what to say. "That's... yeah. I can imagine it would be hard to move on when they're so tied to each other."

You hum in agreement. "Anyway, we met when they were begging outside the market. They set their instruments up and were playing for tips just so they could eat, so my parents stopped and invited them for dinner. They've been with us ever since."

"Your parents are really good people." He comments.

You look up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I told you that, didn't I?"

"Well, you told me they weren't rebels. That doesn't mean they're saints." He jokes.

"Feels like anyone less than a saint these days is considered a rebel for one reason or another." You argue, but there's no harshness at all behind your tone.

"Regardless, your parents are safe." He says, hoping that you've forgotten about his father being a peacekeeper general.

"Well, thank you." You laugh slightly, shaking your head. "How is Tigris, by the way? And your Grandmother? Have you spoken to them since you've been away?"

"I've called a few times, yeah. They're doing well." Coryo smiles. "Tigris is taking some time off, she's working on some different projects at home."

"I'm glad to hear that." You smile. "They must be missing you."

"So they say, yeah." He chuckles.

"It's hard to be away from home." You tell him. "I know it all too well."

His smile drops steadily, but he just nods. "Yes. At least I have the guarantee of returning."

You try so hard to steer every conversation you have away from the games, but it never seems to work. People have so many questions, so many comments, and it's a shame that Coryo is no exception. You suppose that was inevitable. He's one of very few people who somewhat know what you went through.

You really wish you had met him some other way.

"I'm sorry." He quickly apologizes, sensing your shifted energy. "That was... I shouldn't have said that."

"No, no. It's okay." You insist. "I just... Everyone wants to talk about it all the time. I can't escape it."

"I should have known better. I'm sorry." He says again, taking in a deep breath. "I wanted to be different. I try so hard to not make you think about it and I should have remembered that before I said anything, I just-"

You shake your head, frowning as you look up at him. "I wouldn't expect you to." You tell him. "If I'm honest, you're the one person I think I am okay with discussing it with."

Coryo has to fight back the smile threatening to pull at his cheeks from the relief. You weren't planning on never talking to him again. This was a great sign. He opens his mouth to speak when he hears shouting from up ahead.

"We made it!" Lucy Gray cheers, and sure enough, he can see the lake appearing through the trees.

"Coryo, you gotta see this!" Sejanus's voice follows.

"We made it." You smile, happy to change the subject. "Come on, the water is going to feel so good."

Then, you're jogging up ahead of him and pulling your bag off to leave on the dock.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie , @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

283 notes · View notes

genericpuff · 15 days

Note

I’m gonna have to disagree with you that Kaos is any better than LO. It’s all the same bull crap.

Kaos just seems like live-action LO, both having a boring storyline with bad or fetishized characterizations of the Greek Gods and figures, and both looking artistically beautiful and some cool concepts, but badly executed. The only difference is that Kaos has more LGBTQIA+ themes than LO, has a tiny bit more Greek references, and gets much darker. That’s pretty much it.

As a Greek who studies our myths and stories extensively, I’m tired of the west trying to take and rearrange our stories and retell them ‘with a modern, western lense’. It’s exhausting and infuriating.

It’s time the west gets over its fascination with us and move on.

Fair opinion! Honestly, the initial post I made about it was after only watching the first couple episodes. Now that I've finished it, I can definitely see actual glaring issues with it, both in their characterizations as well as in how they kind of lose the intrigue after a few episodes of the setting and elements of them being gods. Which are all issues that LO have as well.

Though I will say, LO has those issues far more than Kaos does, but what really separates LO from Kaos, in my opinion - the creators of Kaos aren't pretending that Kaos is more than it is. To me, Kaos isn't in any way a singular Greek myth retelling, more so a fun "Greek epic" style story featuring the gods in a modern setting, the way LO could have been if Rachel hadn't tried to make it into something bigger than it was (and if she didn't put herself on a pedestal as a "self proclaimed folklorist"). I can watch Kaos and appreciate it as a fun Greek myth inspired piece of media because that's pretty much all it's trying to be. Meanwhile LO gives us middle-school-level writing with very little real Greek myth influence (aside from what it benefits Rachel to do so) that even goes so far as to outright disrespect the myths that they were based on... all the while people praise it as the greatest Greek myth retelling ever.

I think Kaos is miles better than LO because it at least tells a more coherent story than LO ever could have, with a lot more attention paid to the stylization of a Greek epic (compared to LO which tried and failed to implement those same things, such as the Fates, self-fulfilling prophecies, and witty narration as to retell a story that's already happened).

Granted, that story still takes a lot of liberties with the source material (some that I enjoyed, others not so much), but in that regard, I refer to the above - Kaos isn't trying to be an actual retelling like LO did, so I view it the same way I do as something like Hercules or Hades, where the people who made it clearly love Greek myth and wanted to do some Greek myth-inspired story with their own twists on the narratives, and it paid off in a story that, in spite of their flaws, still feels intentional and thought out.

LO, by comparison, is just a mess of ripped off half-baked ideas thrown at a wall and filled in with self-fulfilling power fantasy garbage written by someone who claims to have deeper knowledge of the myths but clearly doesn't. It's hard to enjoy LO in spite of its flaws because it's all flaws and they're so deeply-rooted in the context of Rachel's own biases and sexual preferences that you really can't separate it from that once you know if it.

I do have some criticisms of Kaos and some of its more creative choices - Hera cheating on Zeus with Poseidon (literally wtf lmao), Persephone still being the "I went down there willingly!" archetype (though at least she's not 19 in this, the casting for her and Hades was great), as well as the fact that things weren't wrapped up by the end of the first season which really bums me out because now it's up to the mercy of Netflix to give it that second season - but ultimately, from a story-writing perspective, Kaos absolutely did accomplish having an actual narrative with themes and goal-driven writing that LO failed in having. That comparison doesn't make Kaos a 100% perfect show without flaw, but I made the comparison initially anyways because much of what I enjoyed in Kaos was what I expected from LO (and ultimately didn't get).

That's just my own two cents though! And I need to make it clear - I am not a Greek person! I have no say or merit within the discussion regarding Greek myth and how it's been appropriated!! - so ultimately... my opinion of these things really aren't as valuable as someone who actually is Greek or studied heavily in it.

So that said, I can completely see the merit in your own arguments that a lot of these "modern retellings" tend to miss the point of the stories they're trying to retell (esp with the criticisms I outlined above) and are often chewed up through a Western lens. The lesser of two evils is still evil. But if we're purely talking Kaos vs. Lore Olympus here as modern entertainment that are both attempting similar things... I'd be way more likely to rewatch and recommend one over the other. Plus there are a lot of adaptions out there made by Westerners / non-Greeks that are incredible and are, at the very least, amazing stepping stones into the world of Greek myth for those who want to learn more about it. Out of the pool of ongoing modern Greek myth retellings/inspired works - Blood of Zeus, Hades/Hades 2, Kaos, Epic: The Musical, Hadestown, Hercules, Percy Jackson & The Olympians, and Lore Olympus - it's not hard to guess which one I'd be the least likely to recommend as gateways into Greek mythology. If those titles were organized in a list of best to worst, Kaos isn't at the top of that list, but it's sure as shit higher than LO 💀😆

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #kaos show #kaos

83 notes · View notes

lucylannister13 · 1 month

Text

what are you thinking, finn wolfhard?

everything i'm about to say aligns with my finn wolfhard is a genius agenda.

it was just made apparent to me that not only did finn wolfhard film it 2017 before season two, but he filmed his scenes as boris in the goldfinch literally DAYS before filming season three. this is extremely hard for me to conceptualize. but it also makes me think about finn wolfhard himself who obviously knows the truth about mike wheeler's sexuality. if byler is as deep seeded as we want it to be, odds are that finn knew what was up from the beginning. which makes a girl think- did he know the same about richie tozier when he first played him in 2017?

lets look at richie a bit.

richie is obviously gay. i will not be taking arguments on this. i'm reading a reddit thred right now where people are debating it and i'm like- are you kidding me. but he wasn't gay in the source material. stephen king has stated as much in a vanity fair article. though he calls andy muscetti's choice "genius" (which it is, btw), he makes it clear that it wasn't his intention. it's explicitly clear in it chapter 2, and being wired like a byler shipper, i was able to suss it out in the first movie, but was that andy muscetti's intention to begin with?

there are many ways this change can be interpreted. assuming that it wasn't something that was explicitly written into the original character description for richie in the first movie, you could see this as something that was put in as a sign of the times, a statement if you will. it chapter one was written in 2015-2016 while we were still under obama's presidency, one that saw drastic improvements for the quality of life of a gay person in america. it chapter two was written during trump's presidency and could have been trying to brand itself as a statement of sorts. i only say this because as far as i can find (and PLEASE tell me if i'm wrong) there wasn't nearly as much evidence hinting at richie's sexuality in the first movie as there is for mike or will to use a relevant example.

the idea that finn wolfhard could have gone straight from it filming (summer of 2016) to stranger things filming (early november 2016) just having played a character who he knows was in the closet and in love with his best friend in the 80s could open up new interpretation to mke in season two. oddly, the reason i bring this up is because richie tozier to me is the mirror image of a kid i was friends with in middle school. they acted the same, they even weirdly looked and dressed the same. the only time i've ever made the comparison between middle school kid and mike wheeler was during season two, specifically in the scene where max leaves them the note, which leads me to believe that he could have carried other things over from other aspects of the it production.

season two isn't what really concerns me though. i'm looking more at season three. the goldfinch only moved to production in albuquerque in april of 2018, which is obviously where finn wolfhard filmed all of his scenes. however, stranger things 3 started production on april 23rd, 2018, which means there might have even been crossover between finn's shooting dates if not at least a very short gap of time between them. it chapter 2 was filmed that same summer likely with some of it's own crossover with stranger things three dates. finn wolfhard's lack of scenes in the second movie are probably what made this possible, but the scenes that he did have tackled very delicate topics that had to be handled with care. most actors get their scripts for minor roles like this a few weeks out from filming, which means that finn could have had his scripts for it chapter 2 that very explicitly make it clear that he's gay during filming for stranger things 3.

so here he is with one gay character right before season 3 and one right after. he knows how to handle these things, which means that every move he's making, especially in season three, is most likely intentional, especially if he knows this far in advance about mike's sexuality. i think it's totally feasible that he does. i'm fifteen and i understand what was happening between byler during the fight scene, finn was sixteen and, being a part of this show, probably understood what was going on too even if he wasn't outright told. doing justice to a season like this when he was also having to figure out scenes like the boreo taxi scene or the arcade scene with henry bower's cousin or r + e was probably at the forefront of his mind.

in conclusion, i just have one question:

what does this mean, finn wolfhard?

#stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things 3 #it chapter 2 #it 2017 #richie tozier #the goldfinch #boris pavlikovsky #boreo #reddie

71 notes · View notes

matan4il · 3 months

Note

Can't stop thinking about that poor French girl. Most of my friends didn't even have their periods at 12. We have been screaming ourselves HOARSE for months that "globalize the intifada" is going to come back to bite us...and now it's beginning to. They didn't listen to us then and they won't now. Instead, they let a child pay the price for the crime of being Jewish.

I remember back in early April I walked by a protest and I told a cop there what the phrase meant. She didn't even deign to look at me, instead she told me where I could counter-protest. That is not what I was asking about. No one is protecting us, yet they wonder why we feel safer and have an attachment to our home.

I haven't been able to visit home since the war started, I'll be there Sunday finally. And I can guarantee that I will be moving comfortable there, despite my half baked plan and no official place to stay.

I just don't know what we are supposed to be doing anymore. עד מתי??????

I can't stop thinking about that girl either.

I can't stop thinking about what it means that she knew she wasn't safe telling her boyfriend at the time that she's Jewish. I can't stop thinking about the fact that she was right, as he proved. I can't stop thinking about the kind of environment she grew up in, where she had grown so accustomed to antisemitic attitudes being the rule, that she didn't see that guy's antisemitism for the red flag that it is, and didn't stay away from him.

And I wanna make it clear, it is ABHORRENT that Jews should have to stop and consider just how much they're going to lose out on socially because of antisemitism. But it IS hard to constantly lose and miss out and be depraved of social rewards that others get just because you're Jewish, especially when you're 12 years old. So this responsibility lies on the hellish environments that push Jews to have to decide between being included and being safe.

That the specific way that this girl's abusers were violent with her for her Jewishness was sexual, committed by at least one person she intimately trusted, done as a group, and (from what I've gathered) in public, just makes the whole thing even worse, and I cannot stop grieving what was taken away from her, and what she will have to deal with for the rest of her life.

And I've heard from multiple sources that the perpetrators' phones had anti-Israel material on them. It was easy to guess, but it's still chilling to have that confirmed.

I am SO sorry that you had that experience of a cop not giving a damn about our safety as Jews. But yes, we absolutely cannot rely on anyone else for our protection, it's a part of why we need Israel. And there's only one place in the world where we can be safely and effortlessly ourselves as Jews. I'm so glad for you that you're coming home, and I also hope that if fellow Israelis see this, that maybe they can reach out and help, too.

אם יש כאן במקרה ישראלים, השמיעו קול!

As for what we can do, we can continue to live even when they don't want us to, we can go on supporting each other, we can thrive even when they think they've taken that option from us, we absolutely should educate ourselves continuously when our haters are relying on people's ignorance, and we must speak up where and how we can. Even if our reach is small, it's better than being silent. Not to mention, sometimes one person listening to you, if they're the right one, can make a much bigger difference than we could imagine.

I'm sending you lots of hugs and love! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

118 notes · View notes

shubblelive · 1 year

Text

— BOTTOM DRAWER

summary : wilbur needs a haircut. you're more than happy to oblige, even if he does take some convincing.

genre : fluff

warnings : wilbur makes a joke about reader stabbing him with scissors

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x reader

pronouns : none (you/yours)

featuring : cc!wilbur soot

requested : in your fic source material it was mentioned that y/n had given wilbur a haircut before, and then at the end she says that he needs to get a haircut (im telling you these things as if you didn’t write it lmao). anyways, i think a little fic where y/n gives wilbur a haircut would be really cute :)

word count : 952

note : hi angel!! i tried to make this as different as i could from the scene in the fic you mentioned and i hope you like it!! thank you for requesting!!

inspiration struck at odd times. you’d become well accustomed to that in the time you’d been dating wilbur, sometimes waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of a muffled guitar coming from the living room.

you knew that music consumed wilbur’s thoughts daily. his routine consisted of wake up, think about music, think about you, write music, think about you, think about music and, if you were especially lucky, he’d think about you once more before bed.

music was wilbur’s first love, you were more than aware. but he’d made sure you knew that you were his greatest, and that was all that mattered.

the last few months of his life had been dedicated to that first love of music, and, unfortunately for his ‘greatest’ that meant wilbur had been forgoing certain self-care activities.

he was pressing gentle kisses on your cheeks, skirting around your lips as you giggled, trying to chase him. it had been a long week, and even getting to kiss you once had been a luxury with how busy you both had been, let alone getting to sit with you. your back pressed against the side of the couch, the rest of you a tangled mess with the rest of him as he relaxed into your hold for the first time in what felt like ages.

your palms were flush against his cheeks, feeling the warmth radiating out of his skin. wilbur went to press his forehead to yours but was interrupted by your spluttering coughs.

he pulled away, concern pulling at his mouth. “you alright?”

you coughed, turning your face away from his, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. “this has gone too far,”

“what’s wrong?” wilbur sat back on his heels, taking your hands in his. “are you okay?”

“your hair is too long,” you said decidedly, standing up and pulling him along with you. “this is getting out of hand.”

wilbur laughed as you dragged him towards the kitchen. “what are you doing?”

you turned, running your thumbs over his knuckles. you let his fingers go just long enough to brush the excess hair out of his eyes. he softened under your touch and squeezed your hand, his free one coming up to rub the spot right beneath your ear. “i thought you liked my hair?”

you let him go, pulling a stool from the other side of the counter and dragging it beside the refrigerator. “i do,” you assured him, throwing him a look over your shoulder as you wandered down the hallway. wilbur waited dutifully in his assigned seat while you were out of the room, running a hand through his curls. they were truly getting unruly, he could understand why you wanted him to get a haircut. he shuffled, grabbing his phone out to book an appointment when you returned, his least favourite towel in your hand. “but, i like your face more.”

he nodded towards the towel. “finally getting rid of that thing?”

you hugged it close to your chest. “never. i’ll never understand your resentment towards it.”

“it scratches!”

“you just don’t understand it like i do.” you huffed, laughing gently. you noticed the phone in his hand, giving him a quizzical look. “what’s that for?”

“i was gonna call in, book myself a haircut,” he said, turning the phone around to show you.

you took it out of his hand, putting it face down on the bench. “no need!” you beamed at him, draping the towel over his shoulder and pulling the kitchen scissors out, giving them a snip for emphasis. “that’s what i’m here for.”

he gave you a nervous glance, squinting slightly. “are you a licensed professional?” he asked seriously, trying to ward off the smile breaking out over his face.

“of course,” you said, offence laced in your tone. “i’ve got four year’s experience looking at your face. i know what it’s meant to look like.”

“so you know that it’s meant to be wound-free?” he clarified. you gave him a look and he conceded. “it’s not that i don’t trust you, darling, i just…” he sighed, finally letting the smile take over his face, swinging your connected hands back and forth. “this haircut is gonna be all over the internet for like, four to six months, so i just worry.”

“i cut my own hair all the time, wilbur.” you raised your eyebrows. if it really made him uncomfortable, then of course you’d let him go to a professional, but you couldn’t lie and say the idea of delving your hands into his hair wasn’t appealing.

that seemed to convince him. “you do have lovely hair.”

you beamed down at him and suddenly it was a done deal, if it made you smile like that.

the feeling of your hands in his hair made him close his eyes, his head resting on your leg as you, perched on the bench, worked on the other side of his head. it took nearly an hour - the guy had a lot of hair - but when you were done he smiled up at you. “how do i look?”

you considered him. “you’re okay with the camera only facing this side of you right?” you poked his cheek. he laughed loudly, taking the scissors out of your hand and dumping them in the kitchen sink. you hopped off the counter, kicking some loose hair up with your socked foot. “i’m sure we have glue somewhere, right?”

he pulled you closer by the hips as he stood up, planting a kiss on your forehead. you let the joke go, bringing your hands to ruffle his hair.

he kissed you gently. “it's in the bottom drawer.”

#wilbuh #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur x y/n #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x reader fluff #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot angst

271 notes · View notes

hanaruri-tunes · 1 year

Text

Humiliating Leviathan (Levi x reader)

My first try at some smut, so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. And here are the warnings I could think of: Degradation, crying, masturbation, usage of underwear, usage of sex toys, going down on MC, two dicks (I gotta follow the common agreement that Levi has two dicks haha), snake tongue (again, common agreement), petting, praising

OKAY. I think that's it. Don't hesitate to tell me if I forgot something. I know all those warnings might make it seem hardcore but I promise it's actually quite a cute fic. Subby and pathetic Leviathan is the cutest. PLEASE DON'T HESITATE TO LEAVE COMMENTS please please this is my first try at smut in the obey me fandom (if ever, actually) I would really appreciate the support.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You knocked on his door three times. No answer. Knowing Leviathan he was either passed out in his bathtub after binge-watching an anime or playing games non-stop... Or he miraculously decided to go out somewhere. Probably to buy some merch from a limited-in-time store that has no official website from which Leviathan can order. Although he could definitely find some second-hand merch online he refused to do that. He would go on and on about how buying second-hand isn't supporting the franchise thus he MUST buy it directly from the source.

Seeing how there was still no answer you decided to go in. Usually his door had a spell on it that would send intruders into another random place in the devildom but he lifted that spell for you specifically. You were the only one who could enter at any time without any disturbance.

As you did so, there was no Leviathan in sight. Not in front of his gaming set-up, not in his bathtub, not passed out on the floor. So he's out, huh? You wonder why he didn't invite you or at least warn you that he'll be out today. Usually, especially if it's for a limited time anime café, you're always the first one invited. Well, you probably shouldn't pry but as you're about to step a foot outside his room... You stop. This is a pretty rare chance to look around his room without him pestering you.

It's not like you'll pry *too* much though. Just a bit, for curiosity's sake. (That was a lie you told yourself.) You inspect his figurines more closely. He's mostly into magical girl shows and moe blob shows. How cute of him. But you've always expected that he might have some secret sexy figurines as well. Or else why would he be so protective of some of the packages he orders from Akuzon? He's usually so unenthusiastic and slow when getting out of his room for breakfast or dinner and yet he rushes to the door when it's for a delivery.

After checking some of his drawers you find the fabrics and materials he uses for his cosplays. It's all mostly different hues of pink since he prefers cosplaying female characters- how cute. At one point you also accidentally come across his underwear in one of his drawers, it's all mostly black with some funky colors mixed in from time to time. He even has one of a limited edition HanaRuri-tan underwear collection.

And just as you think that you've struck gold... it's just some old stuff. Probably from some of his past obsessions. That includes precure dvds, aikatsu cards, manga magazines, et cetera. Again all cute shows mostly targeted to young audiences. Really, you can't see Leviathan as anything else than a completely adorable dork. People often don't get him for his specific tastes and hobby but all you see is a pure little guy who's still in touch with his inner child and who loves mostly light hearted shows. Surely anything he might hide won't probably be even THAT bad. Or even if it is... that's still cute in another way.

After looking in all of his drawers, no sign of any sexy figurine, of any sex toy or even erotic manga... This is way too suspicious. But then again Levi is smart, he probably wouldn't dare hide any of this stuff in his drawers knowing that Lucifer frequently comes to his room begging him to clean it, only to start off doing it by himself before Levi hurriedly joins him and kicks him out. If he had to hide something dirty where would he... ... You look under the bathtub. Nope. Too easy? Then...Reaching for his blanket and sheets inside the bathtub, you raise them, uncovering some sort of trapdoor?You slide it open and there's a huge box inside of it. If you had to guess, he used the same spell as the entrance of his room. Except this one always leads to the same space: the place where his hidden box is, wherever that is.

You pull it out, open it and there it is. Almost all of the stuff you had imagined him hiding was in here. Sexy figurines, erotic doujins, even some sex toys. Two in particular were bigger than the others. Fleshlights... But why two? Looking at it closer one's a smaller size and the other one is bigger. Did he get the size wrong the first time he ordered so now he has two of them? But more than that, there was something you really didn't expect to find here. A pair of panties. *Your* panties. You thought that maybe you had just forgotten it while moving back and forth between the devildom and human world but here they were, in Leviathan's precious box.

In some way this awakened something in you, a strange feeling of amusement while you realized that the cutest and purest guy you knew turned out to be a filthy underwear thief who most likely used it to jerk himself off.As you started to think that, a loud noise came from behind you. It sounded like some object had fallen to the floor- ah. Probably Levi who just came back and dropped his phone after realizing what you were looking at. Quickly, you wiped off the amused smile you had on your face before turning back to face him. You faked a look that was a mix of disappointment and worry.

"Levia-chan..."

The poor guy looked frightened, as if the sky had fallen on his head, as if his life was over. Even that pathetic part of him, you found it just so cute.

"Ah... ah... That- uh. I-"

Not even taking the time to close the door behind him, he dropped on his knees in front of you, lowering his head.

"I can explain! S-So please don't- please don't freak out o-or agh, I mean-"

His heart dropped when you walked past him. "It's over." He thought. The friendship you guys had built was done for. There's no way you would ever love him now or even want to look his way. There's no way a kind, beautiful, strong person like you would ever even spare him a glance. No way an amazing girl as pretty and genuine as you would give a second chance to a gross creepy piece of shit like him.

As the worst possible scenarios started to play in his head, he came back to his senses slightly as he understood that you had just closed the door in order to have more privacy in here. You slid his seat in front of him as he was still on his knees, sat down and crossed your legs, taking on a haughty tone. Almost commanding.

"So? You said you could explain but I don't really see what is possibly left to explain here. It all speaks for itself. All this filthy shit and even two fleshlights weren't enough to satisfy your dick so you just *had* to have a go on my underwear, huh? You slutty thief."

As you said that last bit you flicked his forehead that he was trying so very hard to keep fixated on the ground, but it was almost impossible anyway since you had your bare legs crossed right in front of his eyes. You know Levi loves it when you wear short skirts, it's hard for him to not look, even in a serious situation like this one.

"Agh. Well, uh. Ahh..."

After about twenty seconds during which he couldn't come up with anything plausible or even any attempt at an excuse he started to tear up. Completely lost, he lowered his forehead to the ground, bowing and apologizing profusely.

"I'm- I'm so *hngh* s-sorry *hic* please don't hate me. Y-You're right, I'm a pervert but please, I beg you for forgiveness *hic* at the very least please don't ignore mee- *hnghg*"

You felt chills down your spine. Was it horrible of you? While this little baby thought that his entire life was over just because you might hate him, you were just thinking how fucking cute he sounds when he's crying while genuinely in distress. You were feeling conflicted. One part of you wanted to pat his head and raise it, kiss his cheeks full of tears and caress his back while assuring him that you don't really find him that gross or creepy. In fact finding this dirty side of him made you giddy.

And yet, the other side of you wanted to play around with him a bit more before giving him ultimate bliss.

"Levi... Are you serious my darling?"

You gently pressed your heels on the back of his head as his forehead was still stuck to the ground.

"You really think such a lousy excuse will cut it? You know just how outright creepy this is, right? You went out of your way to steal underwear from me so you could rub it all over your dick and cum in it and yet all you have to say for yourself is just "I'm sorry, please don't hate me"? You'll have to do better than that."

Still sniffling, you could feel Levi taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

"Y-you're right. Crying about it won't solve anything. I know just how much of a disgusting lame little fuck I am, it's already a miracle how someone as beautiful and amazing as you even considered me your friend. I've been blessed a-and so honored to be called that. So please, please give me a second chance Y/N. I'll do anything, really."

You took your heel away from him. Full of expectations on what the two of you were about to do if you played your cards right.

"Anything? No way. That's just empty words."

"It's not! I'll really do anything. I'll even be your b- um. B-Bitch if I have to."

You command him to raise his head up, he does. His eyes and cheeks are still wet from the tears he just shed and his face is all red from embarrassment.

"A bitch, really? So you'll even accept corporal punishment? If I tell you to lay down on your stomach on my lap, you'll do it? You'll let me spank you?"

For a split second you see it his eyes, this little fucker really feels like he'll get a kick out of this. "It's not a punishment at all!" He must be thinking. He would love to be treated so poorly by you. In fact, one of his occasional turn-ons was to imagine you degrading him, insulting how much of a perverted little shit he is.

"I- I'll do it. Anything you want to do to me, I'm fine with it so..."

You lightly tap on your thighs two times, telling him to get on. Obediently, he does... and immediately receives a slap on the ass.

"You're supposed to at least lower your pants idiot. Or else it won't even hurt that much."

"A-Ah, yes."

You saw it again. That glint in his eyes. He's excited and is just so barely managing to not display a shit eating grin on his face.

As soon as he does as you told him to, you spank him again. Harder this time. He lets out a little yelp. And as he does you grab his hair with your other hand to pull him up a bit and whisper into his ear.

"You think I didn't notice that? The corners of your mouth keep rising upwards you fucking pig."

Finally he completely gives up on the façade he is trying so hard to keep and lets out a huge unrestrained grin, the kind he has when you hug or kiss him on the cheek suddenly. Looking dumb and genuine, though this time it looks cuter as he's obviously enjoying the pain you're inflicting on him.

"Aaahh. I-I couldn't hide it after all, you're right Y/N. I'm a dirty fucking pig who even enjoys it when you're being mean to me. Bully me, hit me, spit on me. I don't care, if anything I love it. I'm so sorry for not even being able to be properly punished ahh I'm so so sorry~"

He says while not looking sorry at all. Pretending to ignore his stupid monologue you spank him again.

"Slut."

"Hnghh~"

He shudders and keeps grinning widely.

Only does he get a bit nervous when you decide to pull down his underwear.

"Ah- wait! ACk-"

You spanked him again, this time your hand made direct contact with his skin.

"Shut up you filthy bitch. Isn't that what you promised? You even said that you'll be my bitch so that's just what you are right now."

Rapidly the nervousness he had displayed a second ago dissipated.

"Ahhh~ y-yes, I'm your bitch. You can use me whoever you want, I'll even drink your spit if you ask me to ehehe- OW-"

"Quiet. Or- No. Actually, keep moaning. It's cute."

"Ehehe I'm sooo happy you said I'm cute Y/N."

"Master."

"Master~ ehehe..."

He was really digging this roleplay type of set-up you had invented. But while he thought you weren't performing and really wanted to punish him, you on the other hand were truly aware that this is all a sham from your part just to turn him on.

As you continued to spank him a couple more times, you noticed something odd. It wasn't that you felt poking against the side of your thighs since you had fully expected him to get a hard-on. It was that the poking sensation was double.

"... Levi, get up for a second."

"Um, w-wouldn't it be better to continue to punish me?"

Another slap made him yelp.

"Don't be difficult."

And so he did, and you finally realized why he owned two fleshlights. It wasn't that he had the size wrong and had to order a second one, it was that he has two dicks. One on top of another on his crotch, with a pair of balls for each. You can't help but wonder just how much more sperm he can produce than an average "person."

As you closely observe his two rods, Levi can't help but squirm under your gaze. Elated at the amount of attention and your focus on his private parts as his pants and underwear are now out of the way.

"It's weird isn't it? I'm so fucking gross that even my genitalia isn't normal. I'm impressed you can even look at it directly haha."

Silently, you keep staring. Utterly turned on by the many ways you could use this part of him when you'll inevitably fuck eachother. Seeing how you're keeping quiet, Levi keeps degrading himself, obviously wanting the same treatment from you.

"I mean what kind of weird monstruous fuck would have two dicks, right? S-So you can tell me, tell me just how fucking gross and creepy it is..."

He keeps smiling, his face flushed by the titillating humiliation he's feeling by having his cocks out in front of you, the girl he loves the most in the world. So you decide to humor him a bit.

"Hmm... So you constantly hide these? Is it why you always try to wear baggy pants? So people won't notice how much of a creepy fuck you are."

"Y-yeah haha. T-Tell me more..."

He's so docile and pathetic, you can't help but strive for more.

"No. That's enough. Even after a couple of seconds looking at it, it makes me sick of it. I'm bored. Won't you show me how you play with them when I'm not around?"

Leviathan's eyes light up at your suggestion. He can't believe a day would come when you or anyone for that matter would ask him to masturbate in front of them.

"R-Really? You wanna see that?"

"Well, you don't want me to be bored right? And you really reaaaally want my forgiveness for being a gross fuck."

Excited yet mortified, Leviathan takes two of the fleshlights and rummaging through the box, he finds some lube. You watch him start off by filling the two holes with lube, all while both of his dicks are still erect from earlier. You're honestly still amazed at how they look.

Just before Levi sticks his first cock into one of the fleshlights you get an idea.

"Wait a sec. Hand it over."

Obediently, he hands the sextoy over. You spit into it, your saliva mixing with the lube and you give it back.

"Here. Hopefully it'll enhance the experience?"

"Ah- S-shit! Had I known I wouldn't have used the lube at all..."

He looks down, disappointed but still ecstatic. He carefully places the tip of his shaft on the entrance of the toy and slowly starts pushing it in, his dick opening up the walls of the toy as he shudders from the sensation and your piercing gaze. He jerks himself off like that for a little while before you ask him if he's not going to play with his second shaft.

"Well... I can either use the other toy or... I can show you how I do it with your panties..." Seeing how silent you are he retracts his statement. "-JUUST kidding ahaha it's already gross enough to see me jerk myself off so disgustingly with a sex toy, n-no one would like to see their own clothing used like that..."

You smile, uncrossing your legs and leaning in.

"No, that's a good point. Show me how you've been using my underwear all this time you dirty fuck."

"A-ah! Yes... ahaha~"

Taking your panties carefully, he wraps it on his other dick and starts pumping it with his free hand. As he does, he starts explaining.

"A-at first, I would only sniff them but I couldn't resist the urge to use them like this. And now that I've used them too much your sweet smell has completely been overwritten by my disgusting stench so there's no use sniffing it anymore ehehe. That's so fucking creepy isn't? I-I'm such a creepy bastard."

There he goes again, degrading himself while expecting a follow up from you. But you give him none of that this time. Instead, you look at him with anticipation and give him a challenge.

"If you do a good job of putting on a show for me I'll let you go down on me."

The air surrounding him turned to a deep purple as he took on his demon form, his scaly tail wagging around like the one of a dog's. Then he started to pant like a pup as well, elated by your suggestion.

"Ah. Ahh. N-no way? Seriously?! I'll do it, I'll seriously do it. So please watch closely!"

All this time he was on his knees, but now he stood up, making sure you have a close look at his dicks. They were right there in front of your face and you had to hold yourself back from taking one of them into your mouth. He kept mumbling and stammering some intelligible stuff, but you're pretty sure it was something along the lines of "I'll do it" and "look at me."

As he was getting close to release, you could feel him lose himself in the pleasure as his knees looked like they were about to fold from the lack of strength he was putting into them. Probably not used to jerking off standing up, he most likely does it either sitting or lying down like most people. In an effort to keep him standing in front of you, you placed your hand on one of his knees then slowly brought it up, caressing his thighs.

"Do your best to stay standing~ I'll be disappointed if you fall."

"Ah! Yes, of course!"

A literal couple of seconds later, the fleshlight was leaking of his cum and your stolen panties were dripping with his seed. Not only was the quantity overkill but the texture and thickness of the liquid looked quite rich. It was like warm condensed milk. As if on instinct, you placed one of your hands under the dripping liquid, allowing a couple of droplets to land on the palm of your hand.

"Y-Y/N??"

You lick a droplet off, tasting it. Seeing you do that, Levi's knees finally give in and he falls to the ground again, looking at your lips and mouth closely while wagging his tail, overly fixated on how your mouth moves while your tongue is probably pressing those drops of *his* cum on the walls and ceiling of your mouth. Savoring it.

Despite it looking like condensed milk it tastes more like a nectar, sweet and unnaturally good. Is it a special characteristic for a demon's cum to taste sweet and good? Maybe it's to push each other to fall into lust... makes sense. Delicious cum would easily push demons or humans alike to fall deeper into the sin of lust.

"W-wah... I can't believe I just saw you do that. Am I in heaven? N-no that sort of erotic scene would never happen in heaven. Aha I'm so glad I'm a demon and that we're in the devildom..."

Satisfied, you open your legs and raise your skirt.

"It tasted pretty good, surprisingly. But I'm sorry to say mine probably won't taste as good as yours."

Levi crawls towards you like an obedient puppy. He closely looks at the small stain that had formed on your underwear due to his performance. He feels like one grateful and lucky bastard that you're allowing him to do that to you. Frozen for a bit by the sight, he drools slightly before snapping out of it and placing his hands on the side of your underwear. Sliding it down as the stain leaves a bead of your warm liquid behind. Levi looks at it stretch and break as he pulls the panties further down, up to your ankles. You get your feet out of them and kick them to the other side of the room, allowing yourself to open your legs better than if they had stayed around your ankles.

Placing your hand on his head, you gently push him towards you and pet his head.

"Will you start or are you too busy drooling?"

Not making himself be begged any further. He starts by so very gently kissing your clit, it's so soft that you can barely feel it. He wraps his hands around your thighs, preparing himself to eat you out. He's so adorable. As he sticks his tongue out you notice how he has the tongue of a snake. Not that you hadn't noticed before, he would try to hide it from you at first but when you told him that it was so unique and cool he wouldn't try to keep it away from you anymore, boldly opening his mouth when he would yawn or when he was complaining about something. Now there he was using his devious tongue on your sweet spot.

He was greedily tasting you, it made you wonder if you actually tasted as good as he was making it seem. Though you're pretty sure you don't have enchanted cum like demons do. He would sink his fingers into the soft skin of your thighs, feeling you up, probably wishing that you'll let him hump your thighs next if he does a good job at making you feel good. You start to mewl and as you do, you can feel his tongue double down on his efforts, desperate to make you feel better just so he can hear you whimper and cry out his name.

You look down, a bit overwhelmed at how good his tongue is at exploring your insides. You see him looking up at you expectantly, a happy glint in his eyes, full of love for you. It's funny how one moment he begs you to degrade him and the next he asks for praise with his shiny eyes. Appreciative of his efforts, you place one of your hands on his cheek, caressing it with your thumb.

"Good boy Levi."

He wags his tail and his eyes light up some more as he hardens his tongue, pushing it further than you thought he could. You let out another whimper, this time mixing in his name. And as you do, you realize how close you are to climax. You grab his horns and cross your legs around his head, trapping him in front of your pretty pussy. Not that he minds, in fact he wouldn't like it any other way. Feeling you come while you call out his name some more, he suckles on your juices, gladly letting it spread all over his tongue before swallowing it all.

As you let him go, he rests his head on your right thigh, his cheek against your bare skin. He keeps looking up at you in awe at how pretty your face looks just after you've come. He rubs his cheek against your thigh hoping to get your attention back at him.

"Did I do a good job? I can um, I can do other things as well~ Oh if the idea of taking me back as a friend immediately is too gross for you I can keep being your fucktoy for the time being ehehe..."

You smile at him kindly and scratch him under the chin. He wags his tail again and displays his signature wide grin. His laugh is so cute. As he did a good job you figure it's time to stop the charade and let him have a real go at you.

"I wasn't really mad at you by the way."

He lifts his head up from your thigh, eyes wide open.

"Huh?"

"I was just fucking with you, I'm not grossed out or anything. You're still my cute little Levia-chan."

You pat him on the head. His eyes well up in tears from relief.

"R-Really? You won't abandon me?"

"No baby, I just thought this was the perfect excuse to push you to do dirty stuff for me. You're not mad right?"

Leviathan jumps into your arms, crying.

"I'm so grateful that a perfect girl like you would choose *me* to make you feel good. H-Had you not forgiven me, I would even be okay with being your sex slave if you'd like to."

"Don't be stupid, I'll let you be my one and only boyfriend. What about that?"

Levi lets you go, then while still grabbing your shoulders he looks at you, his eyes full of hope.

"Really? You'd allow me? You would take a lame fuck like me as your boyfriend?"

You pull him back in, kissing him on the cheek, near the corner of his lips.

"Don't say that. You're my cute little baby boy. Everyone has an ugly and filthy side to them, but beyond that you're a sweet cutiepie who watches magical girl shows, sews cosplays and easily cries at any sad scene in an anime. I mean, look at me, I just tricked you into thinking that I find you gross and pushed you to jerk off then suck me off. Isn't that objectively pretty terrible of me?"

Levi stays silent for a while before you can feel his two dicks poking at your stomach and pussy.

"N-Now that I know you weren't mad, that was probably one of the best moments of my life."

"Perv."

You kiss him again.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Was initially planning on making them fuck at the end but it got too long. Though I'm not against making a part two if people like it ahah. AGAIN please don't hesitate to comment, I would love to read your thoughts!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me smut #om! leviathan #leviathan avatar of envy #leviathan smut #leviathan x reader #leviathan x y/n #leviathan x mc #hanaruri writes

611 notes · View notes