#because there is no truth reality is shaped how we want to see it

[moonsmistresss]

i know elena is an unreliable narrator but i don't realise it until some scenes were it hits me like i train

[bi-writes]

anatomy of us (1) | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader

we cannot change who we are at our core.

type: limited series, part 1 (6.4k) in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you.

series cw: reader described as plus-sized/curvier, alpha/beta/omega dynamics + universe, dark!simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence, military criticism, protective!simon, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, praise kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving) 18+

Whenever she woke up marked the last day of the rest of your life. One moment, the world inside of your head was unnervingly quiet. The next, someone else was there, whispering in the dark, taking over.

You aren't proud of her. No, you hate her. There is no one you hate more, you don't think, because she lets the direction of the fucking wind distract her from what really matters. She paints her environment in a soft, glazed picture, and she tries to hold up her canvas and convince you that her reality is real. But then you blink, and you get flashes of how dull the sky really is and the dirt that stains your shoes, and you know that she's just a liar.

A controlling, desperate thief.

When you heard her voice for the first time, you begged your reflection in the mirror to just kill you already.

If you were an alpha, maybe you could've just drawn away into yourself and lived a quiet life in the middle of nowhere. If you were a beta, perhaps the weight of nothing would've given you a little more freedom to do the things you wanted to do.

But no. You're an omega. Nature's servant. A natural follower. Destined for nothing except to open your legs and say, "yes, alpha, all for you," because if you are anything but complacent, you're unwanted and a waste of your very being.

Your eyes stung when you took your first little pill. They rattled in different colors in a little orange bottle, and it felt like sand as it dissolved under your tongue. Even though it makes you sick, you take them anyways. Even though the pills change colors and shape and efficacy because you buy them from someone different every time, you take them because it makes your omega shut the fuck up finally.

You bury her. And you won't let her out.

The truth of it is that you're only fighting yourself. Your omega, she is you, isn't she? She's a part of you, she makes up your very genetic makeup, and to hate her is to hate yourself. But nature is cruel–it gave you years of freedom. Years to know what life was like without her, when she was dormant, asleep, just waiting for you to finally wake up.

Then your very self locked the cage. Your fingers claw at the bars, but it's no use. It's your very own punishment. So in turn, you bury her, too, silencing her cries, quieting what she wants most in the world, because it isn't fair, fuck you, you whiny bitch.

She's a pathetic puppy; and you are more than happy to step on her fucking neck.

Your aim is off today. The sound is muffled through the earphones you wear, but they've never thrown off your balance before. When you lean over the railing and squint at the target papers towards the back, you can see the bullet holes just a few inches off center.

You're never off-center.

"Getting rusty on me, Kit?"

You turn around, setting the gun down, and you smile wide when you see a familiar face. You pull the headphones off, putting them aside before making your way towards her.

Kate Laswell is surprised when you throw your arms around her and hug her tight. She smells good; she smells like chocolate, dark chocolate, something bittersweet. She's got that edge to it that they all do, something a little heady and all-encompassing, but she's the only alpha that you've ever found comfort being near. You see her nose scrunch a little when she embraces you back.

You must stink like synthetics. You care, only because you hate to make her nose sting this way. It's never been meant for her. At times, you thought maybe you could do a little convincing; maybe if you batted your lashes enough, she’d take pity on you, hide you away in some CIA shack with her deep on a Montana farm and play house. You’d cook, and she’d protect, and you’d be perfect little alpha and omega until the end of your days.

But Kate doesn’t like baggage. Not even the sweet kind, and especially not the kind that makes it even more difficult to make the hard decisions.

Kate isn’t a soldier. She makes choices based on the greater good, the lesser evil. She doesn’t get to be selfish. She doesn’t have that luxury.

When you pull away, she looks down at you strangely. She looks tired. Her dark hair is in a mess of a braid tucked under a cap, and she looks like she hasn't slept in days. Her attempt of a smile emphasizes the lines around her eyes. You open your mouth to tell her something, but she shakes her head.

"I'm not here as a friend," she says softly, and you frown a little.

"Aren't...haven't we always been friends?" You ask, and Kate lets out a shaky sigh, nodding her head behind her.

"We need to talk. C'mon."

You retrieve the gun and holster it, fastening it into your thigh holster before you follow her. She has a car waiting outside, a big, black SUV with the door already open for her. When you get inside, she knocks on the divider, and the car immediately starts moving. You brace yourself against the side of the car as it speeds off, reaching for a seatbelt.

"Jesus, Kate, what's going on? I-I have training later, I can't–"

"You're not...going back to base," she says evenly. You frown a little, leaning back in your seat, and you put your hands in your lap as you try and get a read on her. Even exhausted, Kate is hard to decipher. She has a stone-cold expression, calm and unbothered, and you curse her CIA training for making her impossible to understand, to even get a glimpse of what she might say next. Her face makes you anxious, and the scent in the car that changes puts you on edge.

"Okay," you scoff a little. "Then where am I going?"

Kate sniffs a little, crossing her arms over her chest. She doesn't break eye contact with you when she says, "Wheels up in 30. I have an assignment for you." She reaches under the seat, pulling out a manila folder, setting it down beside you. When you pick it up and flip it open, you narrow your eyes.

"I'm..." You shrug your shoulders, "I'm not really CIA. You don't give me orders."

"As of one hour ago, you're mine. And this...this is your duty."

Your eyes blur as you skim the text on the pages. You flip through the papers flimsily, getting more and more irritated until you throw it at her, your chest rising and falling fast as you pant, barely able to see her through your tears.

Program. UK. Field assignment. Mate. All the keywords to make your stomach curl and your autonomy shrink in front of your very eyes.

"Kate, don't do this," you beg her softly. You soften your voice, and you let your omega drip syrup into it. You want to see her eyes dilate–you want to make her protectiveness kick in just enough that she might just appease you. It’s desperate, and you know it’s wrong, but you do it anyways, you have to. "Please don't do this. Please. You fucking promised me, you promised–"

"You need to understand that I don't have a lot of fucking choices," she says sharply. She pities you, that much you can tell. She looks pained, but it doesn’t matter how pained she might feel because it isn’t happening to her. It’s happening to you, and she put you on that base so that it wouldn’t happen to you, and she tricked you into getting into this car, and now it’s her–

"Kate, I'll do anything, please," you gasp. You reach over and grab her hands, tugging her towards you. "You know. You know what...w-what I've been through, what this all is, you know...please. Please..."

You promised me. You gave me your word.

"I can't–"

But the CIA can’t be trusted for shit.

"I'll be yours," you try, squeezing her palms. Appease. Beg. Bare your neck. Give her what she really craves. "Just claim me yourself, a-and...and we don't have to do this, w-we can...I-I can go back to–"

Her face contorts, offended, disgusted. You try and swallow down the sting of her rejection, but you cannot help yourself. You would do anything to not be subjected to this fate, to the fate she promised she'd save you from. The only alpha you have ever trusted, and she's pulling away from you, bit by bit.

"I could never do that to you," she interrupts, shaking her head. "I couldn't."

"But you'll do this instead?"

"It's the lesser evil," she says finally, pushing your hands back. It aches. Despite you never leaning towards her, it is still an alpha turning their nose up at you, and the thing inside of you cries at the feeling; she begs you to do more, but you swallow her down, fingers itching for another pill just so you can really squash her singing. "And in my world, that is the best I can hope for."

"It's punishment!" You cry, and she reaches over, cupping your cheeks, pulling you close. You scrunch your face at her touch. Her hands are cold, and they do not welcome you. "A-And for what? For being something that I can't change?!"

"It's mercy," she whispers. Her thumbs stroke your cheeks in soft circles. "I can't protect you anymore, do you understand? They don't want you there, and I can’t take you with me. Even taking meds, even spraying yourself to shit, they don't want you, and I can't protect you if they send you away, do you understand me?" You start to cry, closing your eyes, and you hear the familiar voice in your head preening. She's desperate, slipping through the cracks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you try and force her backwards. You’re panicking, and maybe she’s trying to help, but you hate her. "I have to get you out of there, and this is the only way."

"Please..."

"I can't protect you," she says gently. "But he can. And he'll be good to you. I promise, this...this I can promise."

You rip yourself away from her, curling into yourself as you scoot away from her as far as possible. You press yourself against the door, tucking your knees into your chest. Whatever passes by outside is a blur, and your brain doesn’t register any of it. The only thing in your head is betrayal, traitor, those sick, stupid bastard alphas, all of them–

"Fuck your promises," you whimper, and when she reaches out for you again, you flinch, burying your face into your hands.

Kate is a liar. She never keeps her promises; that’s her job, it is what she does. The CIA is nothing if they aren’t incredible liars–it’s what they’re known for, and Kate takes to it like a fish to water. As far as you are concerned, she lured you in with bait, and now she's shut the door on a trap. It is lined with padding, soft, delicate, but it still holds you back, it still keeps you still and stagnant and forever chained to an existence that you detest more than anything. She used you; it was in her best interest to keep an omega under her thumb, to do with you as she pleased when she needed one, and you suppose once you are taken, she will find another to do the same with. She will give another desperate one like you false hope, and when she needs another omega to keep someone else complacent and willing, she will offer them up with her signature on paper–just like that.

She tries to touch your hand before you board the plane. She tries to meet your eyes, get your attention, anything. You cower when she reaches out, and when she steps backwards, you walk on.

You never look behind yourself. Not even when you sit, and not even as the ramp closes shut.

Fighting is futile when you are who you are. It's unexpected. It's frowned upon. You are made up of something that is intended to be docile, to be big-eyed and soft. If you were a dog, they would want you to roll over and bare your belly and forget how to do anything but obey, but that is not the kind of thing that you ever wanted to be, even when you were small, even before you knew what you really were.

You hate what you are. You medicate yourself to the point of being incoherent, you bare your teeth and aggravate the submissive nature you inherit to deter any kind of match. You make yourself undesirable, not just in your physical nature but in the very essence of yourself.

You want to start over, as something else, or you want to never have been at all. You hate this place, you want them to cast you out, you want to be left to your own devices because dying alone and unwanted is better than submission; it;s better than the imprisonment that your kind subjects themselves to, willing or not.

It sickens you. You watch your own kind fall to their knees, close their mouths, and allow their very being to disappear just to make another satiated. Happy. Their entire lives, reduced to being someone else's waiting hand, someone else's property. It's sad, it's pathetic, it rocks you to the very center of yourself, and you demand more of it, you reject this life and the voice in your head that fights with you every single day of it.

She hates you, too, your omega. She claws at your insides and begs for something to drink, but you dry her out. You don't allow her to even breach the surface of the wasteland you've suffocated her with. She is naïve; she doesn't know what is good for her, she doesn't know that you are saving her from a life of constant torture. She screams for you to let her out, but you take another pill and force her back into the dark.

Or at least you did. You haven't taken a pill in days. They won't let you, even when you asked, even when you began to beg. You promised to be good if they just appeased you. You promised to be quiet if they just slipped it under your tongue, even if they injected it into your very veins, anything, just please, please, I don't want to–

Everything is surreal. You feel like you're seeing everything in color. What used to be dull and uninteresting now sparkles in your very eyes, it glows under the sun. Everything is sharper and less blurry. Sounds are clearer. You can hear the wind more loudly in your ears and feel it under the soles of your shoes. But what dizzies you the most is your sense of smell.

Everything before had been so bland. You have been under the effects of suppressors for so long that you don't think food has ever smelled so bad and so good (eggs make you gag now, and the crisps they give you make your mouth water).

They keep you confined in a small room. You are not allowed in the presence of any alphas; you can smell them passing by the door, but whenever the stink of one of them lingers, there's loud voices, lots of heavy boots. A beta comes to collect you to do a daily workout and to shower, and then you are back in your room, your meals delivered on a tight schedule (and the food, after a few days of your tray being barely picked at, gets so much better–it's better quality than you've seen on any military base, and when you asked, all they said was "lieutenant's orders").

Today is different. Today, along with your breakfast, a large black hoodie is folded underneath the tray that they leave on the end of your bed. You set the food aside, picking up the hoodie, and when you unravel it, you spread it out, gawking at the size of it. Whoever this hoodie belongs to is more bear, more beast, than human. An enormous thing, but when you pick it up, you immediately pick up on its strong scent.

You press the front of it to your nose. Your eyes flutter shut, and you sink into the bed a little as you take a deep breath of it. Warm, but gritty, like charcoal. Cigarettes. Military-issue soap. Clean. Eucalyptus. Fire. Something with depth, something with teeth. You don't realize what's happening to you until it's too late.

Alpha. It smells undoubtedly like alpha, and you're certain by the size of it that it belongs to one. You nuzzle your face into it a little, instinctively, and you don't even register your omega knocking, peering through the door that's been cracked open for her.

She squeals with delight. She's getting dizzy, drunk, and you feel a soft noise in your chest bubble as she pets the back of your mind, keening at the introduction of it. She’s giggling. You can feel her tugging at your insides, whispering in your ear–See? I told you. I told you that you’d like it.

They smell strong. They smell capable. They smell pure.

When you put the hoodie down, your legs are pressed together, shaking from how hard your thighs are squeezed. When you relax, you refrain from the need to touch yourself, but you failed before you even started. You can feel how wet you are; your panties must be soaked, and you feel yourself pulsing with some sort of distinct urge to give in, give in, give in.

It's unnerving, the lack of control you have. Your omega has always been a few feet underwater, but she's breaching the surface now, her lips gasping for air.

You try to push her back.

Stay down.

When the clock strikes for dinner, you aren't surprised by the knock. But you are surprised that when the door opens, there isn't a beta in uniform holding your tray. Instead, you cover your nose a little, blinking harshly as a large man comes into the room. He's got a strange beard and a floppy hat, and when he smiles, he reminds you of a teddy bear. You can tell just by his physique what he is, but his eyes are kinder than you're used to.

You will yourself not to trust them. You trusted kind eyes before, and now you’re locked in a prison of your own making.

"'ello," he introduces himself, holding out his hand. "'m Captain John Price. 's nice to meet you."

You glare at him, not saying a word. When he figures you won't shake his hand, he just nods. He lets his hand drop, hooking his thumbs into his tact vest, and he rests at ease.

"I've come to collect you," he says lowly. "It's time."

You pick up your tray of food from behind you and hurl it towards him. He ducks just in time, moving one shoulder backwards as the metal hits the wall behind him and clatters to the floor in a splattered mess. John shakes his head a little, scratching the back of his neck, and he clicks his tongue. You’re unnerved and a little pissed off when a hint of a grin flickers over his face.

"Fuckin' hell," he breathes. "Yeah...you'll do."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Let's go," John snaps. "Won't ask again."

When he reaches for you, you swipe the fork from the bed, stepping close and sticking the little prongs up against his chin. You aren’t satisfied until you can feel his scratchy beard against it, piercing the skin just enough.

"If you touch me, I'll shove this right up your chin through your goddamn nose," you threaten, and John’s nostrils flare, his hands going up flat beside his head.

"Easy," he murmurs, and you feel like he’s talking to a skittish mare. "Just need to guide you, that's all."

"Well, I don't want to go anywhere."

"If you don't do this, I have to send you back," John explains. "And Kate made it very clear that is supposed to be my last resort. And you don't want to go back."

"Anything is better than this," you hiss, and he narrows his eyes.

"Not this. What they do to unruly omegas..." He leans forward, snarling a little. "Ones like you. Ones that bite. And scratch. They don't deal with them. They'll sedate you and use you as training practice. And while Kate might have a heart big enough to keep you outta that place, I don't have it. So get your arse moving. Now."

You put your hand down, dropping the fork, letting it clatter to the floor. He grips you by the collar of your shirt, urging you forward, and all the hairs stand up on the back of your neck as he gets dangerously close to scruffing you. It's enough of a threat that you immediately relax, your own body betraying your emotions as it tries to make itself smaller. To appease. To submit.

"This can't wait any longer," John mutters. "Has to happen today."

Your lip trembles.

"What has to happen today?" You ask.

"You're meeting your mate," he says. You know that was the answer, but you had to ask it anyways. You think of the hoodie you received all those hours ago. The smell of him, complete intoxication. "Simon."

Simon.

"Sounds like an asshole," you snap, irritated, and John chuckles a little.

"Mmm. He is. You'll adore 'im."

You flinch at the flickering fluorescent lights as he leads you down a narrow hallway. When you pass other soldiers, John puts you in front of him, glaring and baring his teeth a little. You're confused by this sudden display of aggression on your behalf, but when you spot the looks in others’ eyes, you're grateful for it nonetheless.

You know your scent is strong; piercing the walls around you, displaying your displeasure, discomfort, fear so plainly. It's an awful thing to not be able to hide how you feel, to not feel like you have any control over how you present to others, but you have no practice masking any of it. You have been drowning your omega for so long that you didn't realize the strength of her building up behind the synthetic walls you had built. She's livid, angry, permeating the spaces in your mind that you thought were solid and now are broken and hollow inside.

You stop in front of an unmarked door. John looks over you, eyeing the jacket you wear.

"Take tha' off," he says lowly. You frown, stepping back, but he nods again. "Take it off. You'll get it back, just give it to me."

You shrug your jacket off gently, handing it to him. John holds out his hand for yours, and when you cautiously give it to him, he rubs the fabric against your wrists to soak it in your scent before disappearing behind the door. You wait outside, pressing your ear to the metal, but you hear nothing but low mumbles. You do hear a heavy gait, big feet moving around that don't belong to Captain Price, and you close your eyes as you try and see if you can hear his voice.

You don't.

The door is opened just slightly, John cocking his head to the side.

"He wants to see you."

You raise a brow.

"Your mutt?" You ask smartly, and John scoffs a little, kicking the door open wide finally. Behind it, you can see a small little office situated. Dozens of file cabinets, a stained wooden desk, a peeling leather chair. There are papers everywhere, a disorganized mess and walls filled with medals, plaques, letters, pictures of faceless men. And standing beside the desk, towering over it with his head nearly hitting the ceiling is a bear.

A fucking bear.

He's so tall. Over six feet of hulking man, big shoulders taking up too much space. You can tell just by looking at him that he has to duck his head and move his body sideways to get through the doorway you're standing in. He has big hands and thick thighs, and your lips part when you realize his thigh holster has been released as much as possible just to still fit snugly around him. He's wearing dark jeans and a thick black hoodie, and he looks even bigger with a strapped tact vest that holds numerous little gadgets, weapons (fuck, he looks like he can kill you with the pencil laying haphazard beside him).

You can't see his face. He covers it with a mask, a snug covering tucked under his hoodie with the plastic front plate of a skull sewn to its front. He's holding your jacket in one hand, the other clenched in a tight fist as you step through the door.

"Is this your dog, Captain?" You ask finally. Simon doesn't speak. He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you, taking in the way you look from the tips of your combat boots all the way up over your head. His gaze lingers on your middle, the wideness of your hips and the curve of your body.

John crosses his arms over his chest.

"Suppose so," John shrugs, rolling his eyes a little. You blink, finally making eye contact with Simon. His eyes are dark and beady. He's intense, just as his scent had been. Your omega warms your throat and screams in your ear.

Grab him. Latch onto him. Don’t let him go. Do you see him? Look at him–

"Does it bark?" You wonder, glaring. Simon unclenches his fist, rolling his fingers out a little. They twitch beside his leg. His face twitches a little, too, you can see the mask move just slightly.

"When he wants to."

"Does it bite?"

John snorts. "Mmm. Afraid so." He opens the door behind him. "Don't kill each other. If I don't see her for supper, Simon, I'll hold you to it."

When you are alone, Simon still remains silent. He hasn't moved from his spot by the desk, still in a strange staring contest with you as you stand there trying to read him. Like Kate, he's impossible; this time, you don't even have the luxury of looking over his face, although you suspect even without the mask, he must have mastered some kind of expression of nothingness. He seems like the kind of brute to give nothing away. Not even his displeasure.

"Hope you're good on a leash," you say finally, crossing your arms over your chest. "I like to go on walks."

His face moves under the mask again. Finally, he moves. He unravels your jacket in his hand, holding it open for you to put on again. You eye him strangely before coming closer to fit your arms into it.

When you turn your back to him, you realize how much of his shadow you're tucked under. When he drops the fabric back on your shoulders, you still as he leans over one side of you, bending. Without thinking, your head tilts to the side, giving him more space into the side of your neck. You do it without even thinking. Your omega bleeds through you, and you feel her warmth everywhere now, making you move, but you let her this time.

Your scent gland pulses there under your ear. He can see it, hear it practically, rushing like the blood in his ears. You close your eyes when you feel him come closer, the cotton of his mask just barely grazing your neck as he takes a deep breath.

The growl he lets out shakes you to your core. Your pupils get blown wide at the sound, and your head flops back slow, exposing more of your neck. He uses the opportunity to bend just that much more, until the front of his mask is pressed against the gland, and he can breathe you in, right at the source.

He's snarling under the mask. You can hear his teeth knock together, his tongue wetting his lips. You shiver, leaning into him, your hand raising up to caress the back of his neck as he nuzzles his nose there, taking another deep breath. You step back enough that he presses up against you from behind. You can feel his pelvis right against your ass, and you arch your back just enough to fit him right where he belongs. A gloved hand catches you at your waist, and you put your free hand on the desk in front of you until his cock is right there between your ass.

Your omega is panting. She's clawing, right there at the edge, fighting against quicksand as she's desperate to meet him. The feeling of him, the scent of him so close, it's an aphrodisiac, potent, suffocating. Something warm is wrapping around you, sliding along your skin, tickling your toes. It's between your thighs, in your mouth, wetting your tongue. You're not sure what this feeling is, but it's thrilling.

He's purring. Big, rumbling sounds coming from deep in his chest. More animal than man as his tongue comes out under the mask, and you can feel him lick a nice stripe over the raised, warm skin under your ear. Your omega is being pulled to the forefront. She’s like a magnet to him. The closer he gets, the stronger she bites into you. Your mouth drops open when his hand falls between your thighs, gripping onto you and pulling you up against him in one, slow grind. You can feel the length of him, fucking enormous, and you’re leaking into your cargos as his fingers squeeze the fat of your thigh.

"Fuck–okay!" You pull away abruptly, turning to face him. You put your hands on his chest and push him back a little. He doesn’t move at your touch, but your voice startles him enough that he moves his hands up and away from you. He straightens up, blinking away the haze in his eyes, and you swallow hard. "T-Too much..."

He huffs, moving forward to bury his face into your neck again, but you step back, putting a hand on his chest firmer this time. You have stepped out of the cloud that surrounds him, but you can still taste it, and it’s pulling you back, and you’re losing control.

"Simon," you say his name gently, and he stops, his face scrunching a little under the mask before he stands back up again. "If I have to be your mate...we need to set some boundaries." He blinks, saying nothing. "Like...a-asking for permission."

You can tell by the way his mask twitches that he doesn't usually ask for permission. He wants, and he receives.

Typical.

“What?” You ask, scoffing. “You don’t talk?”

He doesn’t move. You crane your neck to look up at him a little better, and you smooth your hands lower on his chest. You can’t help but appreciate what you feel. He’s wearing a tactical vest, but you can still feel the deep breaths he’s taking, the strong, fatty muscle under your palms. He is the epitome of sheer strength and undeniable ability. Your omega draws your hands back up his chest, over his pecs that pull taut, and they wind up around his neck as you stand up on your toes and lean into the curve of his jaw. You put your nose to it, barely. Simon moves his hands down, cupping you under your ass and picking up your weight with not even a grunt until you can press your face deep into him.

Fuck, it’s like a drug. It’s addictive. His scent impales you. He smells like war. Like chaos and smoke, and your mouth starts to water as you keep breathing him in. You pull back just enough, blinking up at him. You look a little dizzy and intoxicated, and he squeezes your ass to hold you steady as he puts you back onto your feet.

“Uhm…” You sniffle a little, holding onto him. Your hands curl around his shoulders, and you keep yourself upright like this. “I didn’t wanna be here. I don’t…I don’t want this. I never did.” You blink away tears, but he sees them when you draw your eyes back up to his. “T-They made me. It hurts.”

“Wot hurts?”

His voice scares you when you finally hear it. Your lip shakes, and when you blink again, your tears fall down your face. Simon snarls when he sees them, reaching up with hands too rough and wiping them off your face, but they keep coming.

“I’ve never been o-off my meds–” You gasp, and your breaths start to come in panicked and too fast. “Everything hurts. T-The lights are too bright, everything hurts my nose, the sheets are too itchy, and I-I can’t breathe–”

Simon moves away from you immediately. He closes a fist and pounds the lightswitch, and only the yellow glow of the lamp on his desk illuminates the room. You curl into yourself, hugging your own arms, and Simon comes back to stand in front of you, narrowing his eyes.

“I did not want you either.”

“That’s just grand, this is perfect,” you hiccup, and Simon grunts.

“But I have orders.”

“You act like your Captain is just debriefing you for a fucking mission,” You snap, glaring at him. “I’m a fucking person. I know your kind may not see us that way, but I am. I’m not a mission. I’m not something for you to win or to conquer, you fucking asshole!”

When you raise a hand to hit him, he catches your wrist before it lands. He squeezes just enough to hold you at arm’s length, and you lean forward and spit on him instead. It wets the mouth of his mask, and he nearly loses himself as his eyes flash with something dark. He looks away from you for a moment to collect himself. When he turns back, he uses his other hand to cup the back of your head, silencing you.

“You listen ‘ere, omega–” The way he says your title makes the fight in you shrink. Your omega squeaks, ducking her head, that bubble of submission pilling in your throat as he holds you so close to your naked scent gland. “Dunno wot anyone told you, but I don’t have to win you when y’r already mine.” He ducks his head, pulling you closer, and you freeze when he presses his masked mouth at the base of your pulsing scent gland. It wafts into his nose, dilating his pupils, and he snarls. “And when you inevitably lose control of yourself–you already fuckin’ are, you reek of it–I’m goin’ to sink my teeth right ‘ere, and then it won’t fuckin’ matter ‘ow you feel.”

Your eyes blur with angry tears. You gasp, your breaths hitching, and Simon seems to feed off of your fear, your misery. If he wasn’t wearing a mask, you imagine he’d be licking your tears for a chance to taste your sadness. The worst part of it all is that your omega adores it. She’s been aching for so long for this kind of authority. For that edge to tickle her right under her chin where she likes it. The whiff of alpha that she’s getting is driving her out of control, and you don’t know how make her quiet down. She’s so loud in your head, banging against the walls–give it to him, give it to him, give it to him.

“You’re a fucking monster,” you whisper, glaring up at him. It’s no use–you will never scare him. Simon is what scares other alphas into submission. In one paw, he could crush your windpipe if he wanted to, with just a squeeze. Simon hums, and you imagine him smiling under that mask, some kind of vicious grin that you would love to smack off of him.

“Tha’s right, swee’eart,” Simon mutters. “I am. ‘n now you belong t’me. Everything that you are–” He smooths his hand down your neck. You seize when his hand slides over the curve of your waist until it cups under your ass and forces you up against him. “‘s mine. Your omega–’s mine. Your mouth–mine. Your arse–mine. That cunt that’s going to take my knot like a good little omega should–mine. So y’r gonna get y’r things, and y’r gonna move them into my quarters, and then we’re gonna go get supper, and y’r gonna shut y’r fuckin’ mouth.”

“I hate you. You’re the biggest son of a bitch I have ever met in my entire life, you are exactly the kind of asshole I knew you would be, you are no different than I thought. You’re a terrible, awful, horrible–”

“I can smell you,” Simon snaps. “Don’t try to be fuckin’ smart with me, I can smell how wet your cunt is, so why don’t you just be a good girl and do as I say?”

You bare your teeth a little, and Simon sticks a gloved thumb into your mouth. Without thinking, you relax. You suck it into your mouth and sigh, and Simon rubs his thumb against your tongue, shutting you up nice and well. He traces your teeth with it, and you start to cry. You cry because you don’t know why you can’t fight. Your grip his forearm, but your nails won’t dig. Your feet are planted to the ground, and you can’t move. Your mouth sucks, and he pushes, and you’re frozen here.

He knows what to do. Doesn’t he taste so good?

He seems to like your teary eyes. The big, fat tears. His eyes crinkle, and you know he’s smiling, and you wish you could rip that expression off his face, but all that stares back at you is death. Simon growls, and every bit of resistance in you fails. Slow, like molasses, your knees buckle, and he catches you. He pets your mouth, and when he leans in and presses his mouth to your ear, all you can do is cry.

“That’s it. Good kitty.”

NEXT

[daretoassume]

this is how you build your OWN beliefs from scratch

beliefs are the foundation of creating the life you desire, along with your inner conversations and emotions. this is why it is important to examine all the beliefs you have in every area of your life, especially those about people and yourself, to see if they align with your natural self, which is your divine self.

i said "own" because we picked up beliefs from the people we were surrounded by as children, having no choice at that time but to accept them. however, the idea is that you always have a choice to choose or create your own beliefs that align with your true self and will shape a whole new reality. if you want to build your beliefs from scratch, you need to:

identify the old beliefs – you cannot change something you are not aware of.

unlearn the old beliefs – ask yourself if they are true for you or if they align with your truth.

list the "new" beliefs – form beliefs that are true for you, true to your divine self.

act on the "new" beliefs – behave in a way that is more aligned with those beliefs.

persist – continue to choose the new beliefs you created moment to moment, even if the situation remains the same.

i definitely recommend having a journal when practicing unlearning beliefs that don't serve you, as it makes you more aware of them, making it easier to remove or replace those beliefs. doing shadow work is one way to deeply investigate what is happening inside you, why you believed the old beliefs, where they came from, how to make peace with them, and how to let them go.

once you have chosen those new beliefs, you must perpetuate them every day, especially when a situation challenges you—particularly your emotions—to choose that new belief for you to experience a new reality. because you cannot just list them and then forget about them. your behavior should match these new beliefs until it becomes natural for you to think and act in that way.

"..because in the next moment it is a whole new reality. you actually have to keep choosing the belief every single nanosecond in order to actually have an experience of ongoing perpetuation." ♱ bashar (darryl anka)

to truly experience this whole new reality you desire, persist in your new ideas, new beliefs, and the thoughts and behaviors aligned with those ideas and beliefs. it may be uncomfortable at first, but that is also just a belief. if you find it hard to attain, as i said, doing shadow work will really help you. this is just a reminder that you always have a choice. always choose what is aligned with your natural self.

[didhewinkback]

the holiday

a the holiday au that explores what that first night in the cottage would've looked like. pls dont sue me nancy meyers

word count: 9k, warnings: smut city baby

---

The fire was slowly building, what were once small embers was now growing into a respectable glow, overtaking the tiny logs you had set in place. You willed it to work faster, to warm up the room as your hand slipped out from under your cocoon of blankets to grab your overly full wine glass, taking a long sip, trying to warm yourself from the inside out. It was fucking cold in here. 

This was fine. Everything was fine. You made the right choice. It was perfectly normal and sane to decide to fly across the world to spend the holidays completely alone in a cottage in the middle of an English town where you knew absolutely no one. To give up your house in LA to a complete stranger in exchange for hers. All because of fucking Derek.

Derek.

A surge of pain rips through your chest, as if you can physically feel your broken heart. No tears spring to your eyes though. You don’t do that. You’ve not done that for years, decades even, something Derek was all too eager to scream at you during that final fight of yours. You wince as the memories swirl around in your brain, the ones you’ve been desperately trying to block out. 

He was following you through the house as you threw anything of his that you could find into his suitcase. 

“Can we just have a civilized conversation about this without you going off the fucking rails?” he ask and you whirled around to face him, cocking a brow at his poor choice of words. “I just mean - please. Babe. Let me explain.”

“Don’t call me what you call her.”

“Jesus Christ -”

“Is this how you expect to have a civilized conversation? You’re being a fucking dick.” you said, turning around to walk away before he grabs your wrist, brushing his thumb along your skin. The way he’s always done. You can feel yourself softening. Damnit. 

“You’re right,” he says, pulling you towards him, though you quickly pull your wrist out of his grasp. “I just need you to talk to me, okay? We can work this out together.” 

“You want to talk?”

“I do.”

“Tell me the truth. Did you sleep with her?” you ask and you can see him physically have to stop his eyes from rolling. You cross your arms, tap your foot. Trying to physically hold yourself together. You’ve gone through harder things. You can definitely handle hearing confirmation that your boyfriend of 2 years did, in fact, sleep with his assistant. “You wanted to talk. Let’s talk.”

He takes a steely breath, hands curling into fists as he looks down at the ground before looking back at you. Every second of his silence already confirms everything you already knew.

“Okay. Fine. In the interest of honesty - yes.” he says, and even though you were expecting it, even though you told yourself you knew it was the truth, you’re not prepared for the way the words rip through you. This relationship had been crumbling around the two of you for a while but you never thought he’d actually do something like this. “Yes. I slept with her.” 

“How many times?” you ask and he groans, head falling back in frustration as he stares up at the ceiling. “Just trying to have a civilized conversation here, babe.”

“I don’t want -”

“Just answer the question.”

“What’s the point -”

“Just. Answer.”

“There’s not really a -” he sighs, shaking his head. “Four.”

“Four?!” you practically shriek, before clenching your jaw, taking a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment. 

The reality practically bowls you over. This man you lived with, this man you’ve loved for the last year and a half of your life - okay, well, you think you love him. You’re not sure you’ve ever actually been in love, like really, fully in love. And looking at him now, at this stupid expression on his stupid face, you know you’ll never love him in any way, shape or form again. He slept with someone else. Four. Times. 

You want to scream, you want to curl up into a ball and cry and cry and cry. But you can’t. And you won’t. You can feel all your defense mechanisms coming up, his eyes never leaving your face as he eagerly awaits a response. 

You clear your throat, your voice completely devoid of emotion as you say: “Thank you for telling me. Now get your things and get the fuck out of my house.”

“Oh you can’t be serious -”

“Bye, Derek.”

“This is how you’re going to end things?”

“You ended things when you slept with someone else -”

“Yeah, but I’m here fighting for it. For us. You’re over there like you don’t even care.” he barrels on, following you back into the bedroom. “You know, if you’re ever wondering why I slept with someone else, maybe it’s because I don’t want to live with a fucking robot all the time. Maybe I want to be with someone who feels things, who actually experiences emotions. You know, someone who actually puts out every once in a while -”

Aaand that’s when you slapped him.

You shake your head, having no desire to rehash the rest of that argument. Just knowing that he is a dick, was probably always a dick and you never have to see him again. You can’t believe you spent two years of your life with that asshole. What a waste. You take another long pull of wine, already reaching for the bottle on the table for a top up. 

You’ll be fine. Once you stop thinking over every little thing he’s ever said to you. Once you stop beating yourself up for not ending the relationship sooner. For even starting it in the first place. You were happy at one point, right? Maybe? Or did you do what you always do, ignore your feelings and look at the logic of the situation. You worked in similar fields, had some mutual friends, you looked good together. It made logical sense. But did it ever feel good? Or right? Did you ever feel loved or cared for by him? Ever? 

Now would be the perfect time to cry. To let it all out. You sit up, take a deep breath and try to squeeze tears out of your eyes. Nothing. Okay try again. Think about how much time you wasted with him, think about how he slept with Christina four. Times. Yes, that hurts, okay, lean into it aaaand still nothing. 

Maybe he was right. 

No. Nope. You’re not doing that. You’re in England! For Christmas! Freezing cold, middle of nowhere England. All on your own. Nothing and no one but Gemma’s dog to keep you company. You can do this! It’s just the first day, you’ll get some sleep and have a lovely holiday starting tomorrow. You take a peek at the clock, groaning when you see it’s only 4:30 pm. Time was moving at a glacial pace. You flop back on the couch, opting to drink straight from the bottle this time. You were in for a long night. 

—

Harry was drunk. Not spectacularly drunk, not really. He had his wits about him, enough to know exactly where he was headed, though to be fair he does know this path like the back of his hand, despite the snow on the ground, the dark night sky, the way the earth spins a bit too much if he makes a sudden movement. It’s fine. He’s fine. ‘Tis the season and all that. 

He’s allowed a bit of fun! He’s a young (ish) lad, his mum has the girls this weekend, he can let loose for once. Sure, he’s been letting loose every single weekend in December but who's counting? Gemma might be, he knows she’s going to give him so much shit for arriving this drunk on her doorstep for the third weekend in a row but hasn’t she been telling him to get himself out there (though she never ever follows that advice herself)? Hasn’t everyone in his life been telling him to go out, meet a nice girl and take her home? It’s not his fault that the idea of bringing anyone over to his home is far more complicated, more paralyzing than anyone realizes, though they swear they understand. Not his fault that the drinks have been providing better company. 

Drinks. Right. He’s had a quite a few. He really, really needs a wee. 

He looks up, relief flooding through him when he sees Gemma’s cottage in sight and he makes a run for it. More like a jog, a clomp through the snow if you will. It’s the least graceful he’s ever looked but it’s the middle of the night and he needs the toilet so bad. Why is it that alcohol seems to move faster through your bloodstream than water? Why can he be fine walking in the snow and now need a toilet more than he’s never needed anything in his life? Life’s mysteries never do cease. 

He runs up to the stoop, pausing to catch his breath before slamming his fist against the door, feeling like his bladder is about to explode. He’s got no bloody idea what time it is, but he knows she’s home, she hardly goes anywhere unless Jasper asks her to. Bloody Jasper. What he wouldn’t give to clock him right on the jaw. He’s gonna tell her that right now. He bangs on the door again. 

“Gem!!! I know you’re in there,” he calls out, banging on the door a third time for good measure and he can see the staircase light come on through the window on the top of the door. He waits a second, rolling his eyes when there’s no movement, pulling up his coat collar as the wind whips through the air. 

“Who is it?” her voice comes through the door and he rolls his eyes. Who is it?! Who else would be banging on her door at this hour? 

“Gem, come on, it’s me.”

“Who are you?”

“Gemma, come on, this isn’t funny,  it’s bloody freezing.”

Still nothing. He groans. This dumb bit she’s doing would be a lot more tolerable if his bladder wasn’t on the verge of actual explosion. He turns to the right, trying to remember where she used to store her spare key, eyes catching on absolutely nothing. 

“Gemma, I’m going to take a leak all over your plants if you don’t -”

The door swung open. Finally. He spins around, fully prepared to push past her and head straight to the toilet when - 

Oh. 

You’re not Gemma.

He’s frozen in place, staring dumbly at the woman standing in his sister’s doorway. At you. Christ, you’re pretty. You’re like, the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. And your eyes. Shit. Wait, why is this gorgeous woman at his sister’s house? Is he at his sister’s house? Yes, he has to be because it's the only bloody house on this path. But what is going on?  He sways on his feet for a moment before snapping out of it. 

“You’re not Gemma,” he says, rather stupidly. “I mean - uh, if you are, then I’m far drunker than I thought.” 

You shake your head, a light laugh leaving your lips that makes his heart twist in his chest.

“No, definitely not Gemma,” you say, quickly introducing yourself. It’s a pretty name, that. And you’re pretty. And he is still very much drunk. And you…are you American?  What’s a bloody American doing all the way out in Surrey? In his sister’s house? 

“I’m staying here for the holidays while Gemma stays in my place in LA.” you explain, almost reading his mind. Unless he said all of that out loud? But he doesn’t think so. They were just loud thoughts in his brain. “Part of this home exchange … thing.”

“That’s not possible. Gemma doesn’t go anywhere. She would have told me.” he says, brow furrowing before he remembers: “Oh, shit, she called me last night and I let it go to voicemail… which I now feel terrible about. Should have answered the bloody phone.” 

He looks back at you, suddenly aware of what this looks like, a strange drunk man banging on your door at arse o'clock in the morning. But luckily for him, you just look more amused than anything. 

“‘M Harry, by the way, Gemma’s brother. Should have led with that. There’s a photo of me and her hanging on that wall next to you if you want, like, proof or summat.” he says, warmth blooming against his cheeks despite the cold winter air whipping through. 

“It’s okay, you look just like her so that helps, though she never mentioned a possible drunk brother sighting,” you say, lips twitching into a smile as your eyes twinkle with mirth. “So, did you want to fuck up her plants or do you need to come inside to use the bathroom?”

Oh right. That. God. The time to curl into a ball and die would be now. But he really, really needs the toilet. 

“Yes, could I?” he says and you’re already stepping back to let him inside and he rushes inside, making a beeline for the washroom, muttering apologies that you shake off. 

He quickly shuts the door behind him and unzips his trousers, quickly kicking the toilet seat up and relieving himself. Sweet jesus. 

He can hear your steps shuffle around outside the door, his mind still reeling from what he has walked into, the last thing he ever expected to encounter on his drunken snowy walk. He still tries to get his bearings as he quickly flushes, washes his hands and hastily rushes out of the bathroom.

“So where did you -” he starts to ask but his limb control is not what it should be and he slams into the lamp on the end table next to the loo - who the fuck puts an end table next to a loo?? - and scrambles to catch it and right it. “Shit - sorry. Um -”

He settles the lamp and looks back up at you, the way you’re barely containing your amusement and right, he’s got to redeem himself now.

“Sorry,” he says with a laugh, shaking a hand through his hair as he makes his way back towards you, leaning against the doorway in a way he hopes looks effortlessly cool but the truth is that he doesn’t trust himself to be able to stand upright on his own two feet, the drinks still swirling through him. “You said Gemma’s in LA? LA, LA?”

“Yeah,” you say, laughing a bit at his incredulous tone. “We exchanged homes for the holidays so she’s there for two weeks and I’m supposed to be here for two weeks but -”

“We’ve not made a great impression on you, have we?” he asks, feeling weak at the knees when you duck your head with a shy smile. No, he might actually be weak at the knees as the room starts to spin, can feel himself swaying a bit. “Sorry - do y’ mind if I sit down? Feel like ‘m about to knock you over.” 

“Oh, yeah.” you say, quickly moving out of his way and letting him make his way to the couch. 

He plops down, heat rushing to his cheeks as he holds his hand out to steady himself. 

“You alright?” you ask gently and he wants to curl up and die a bit. He shuts his eyes for a second and when he opens them, the room is in one place again. 

“Yeah - sorry. I know what this looks like, but I do promise I am Gemma’s very respectable younger brother. Usually more put together than this.” he says, a self-deprecating smile on his face. “Just sometimes I do like to have a drink or two and on the nights that I have more, which is happening a bit more frequently these days, Gemma puts me up on the couch so I don’t have to drive home like this.”

“I get it,” you say softly. “You can definitely stay over tonight.”

“Don’t want to impose more than I already -”

“Please. It’s snowing and freezing outside. I won’t be here much longer anyway.”

“Leaving already?” he says, looking into your eyes. 

“Flights in about” - you sneak a look at your watch - “ten hours.”

“Not what you expected?”

“No, it’s not that it’s -” you shake your head, looking down at your hands before back at him. “I came here on such a whim, booked the entire trip without thinking twice which I never do and I don’t know what I was thinking -”

You cut yourself off, seemingly wanting to get more into it but stopping yourself before you reveal too much. You take a second to look at him, giving him a once over and he has to stop himself from preening. He knows he’s pissed but he’s not so far gone to know when he’s just been checked out. He quite likes the way your eyes feel on him.

“Do you want a drink?” you say suddenly and he has to bite down a smirk. “Coffee? Tea? ….Wine?”

“There’s actually some whiskey in that cabinet,” he says, leaning over the arm of the couch and pointing his hand to the upper cabinet over the fridge. “If y’ want something stronger.”

You smile, your eyes practically twinkling as they light up, and he knows he’s done for. You walk over to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle and then rummaging around the other cabinets until you find two glasses. 

“So, you married?” he asks and instantly cringes at himself for the abrupt way he asked that. You laugh and shake your head.

“No, not in the slightest.” you say and then it’s your turn to cringe. He huffs a laugh as you roll your eyes at yourself, walking the two glasses back over to the couch where he sits, placing the bottle on the end table next to it and handing him his glass. 

“Cheers,” he says, holding his glass up to you as you repeat the salute and clink against his, both of you taking long sips. He wants to say something, anything to keep this night going but also doesn’t want to overstay his welcome, doesn’t want to be reading you wrong.

“So, is it a horrible imposition if I stay? Promise I’ll be out of here before you wake up and you’ll never have to lay eyes on me again.”

There’s a flash in your eyes at that, which he can’t quite read and is desperate to ask you about but you’re already taking another sip, blinking quickly before nodding.

“Not a horrible imposition at all. Let me grab you some -” you put the glass down before slowly swinging around, trying to find the best place to locate a pillow and blankets and he quickly comes to your rescue.

“That cupboard, underneath the Scrabble.” he says, pointing to the cupboard directly across from him and you smile in thanks, making your way over and opening it, holding the Scrabble in place before grabbing the pillow and blanket underneath. 

“So - you, um said y’ did this on a whim?” he asks, hoping to keep this conversation going as he stands up to take off his coat and suit jacket.

“Yeah,” you say, getting a better hold on the bedding in your hand. “I just um - I broke up with someone, yesterday.” 

His eyebrows shoot up at that before he tries to school his expression into something more neural, the drink making all polite social cues fly out the window. His heart skips a beat when you laugh. 

“I know, I know. It was a long time coming though and I just thought it’d be good if I got as far away as possible but all that’s done is make me realize just precisely how miserable I actually feel and what a loser I am so -”

“I don't think you’re a loser,” he says softly. 

“You just met me and you’re drunk off your ass,” you say, raising a brow at him and he honks out a laugh, making you smile. 

“While that may be true,” he says, overemphasizing the word until you giggle, “I’ve got a good sense about these things. If anyone’s a loser in this scenario, it’s whoever you just dumped.” 

“That’s kind of you to say,” you say with a small smile and his lips twitch up in response. You stare at each other a moment and another and -”

“Here.” you say, walking over the bedding to him and he quickly turns to you - oh shit, too fast - catching himself before holding his arms out for the bedding and suddenly you’re so close and smell so nice and have the loveliest smile he’s seen in years and he’s not been this wonderstruck on first sight with someone since, well, Sarah - but no, he’s not thinking about that right now - and he can’t help himself he mutters a soft thank you and doesn’t stop to think for a second before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. 

And - oh. It’s only a second or two but already it’s different - it’s something. Something he thought he would never feel again, something he thought he would only get lucky enough to feel once in his life until the universe had other, horrid plans and this is a lot to put on a first kiss with someone he just met. Not just someone, it’s the woman who’s staying at his sister’s house, christ, Harry -

He pulls away quickly, already mumbling apologies but stopping when he sees the look on your face.

“Would you mind -” you start to say and he’s hanging on your every word, feeling like he’s about to be thrown off a cliff - “trying that again?”

He leans in again almost without thinking, softly pressing his lips to yours and feeling an electric current when you, albeit tentatively, kiss back. He pulls back after a few moments, eyes quickly scanning your face, the way it looks like you’re processing a million things at once.

“Bad?” he asks and you instantly shake your head.

“No, just - weird”

He’s heard lots of things over the years about his technique but he has to admit weird is a new one. You plop down on the couch, still processing, and he places the bedding down and takes a seat next to you, eyes never leaving your face.

“Sorry, it’s just - I haven’t kissed someone new in like 3 years and wasn’t expecting this but I want to…” you trail off, eyes roaming his face in a way that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “Maybe if I close my eyes.”

And he’s already nodding, waiting for your eyes to flutter shut as he brings his hands up to cup your face, delicately brushing the hair out of your eyes and he knows this is his only chance. He’s got to kiss the hell out of you or this will be the last time he ever does and he can’t bear that thought. 

He gently presses his lips to your temple and can practically feel you melt under his touch. Good. His lips drag down the side of your face, slowly, surely, before capturing your lips with his, holding you firm to him as he gives you everything he’s got, kissing you so thoroughly it’s almost as if the room starts spinning again. Your hands come up to clutch at his wrists as you kiss him back, both of you getting lost in the moment. 

“Good?” he asks, practically begs, as he pulls away, hands dropping from your face. He needs to know that it was okay, that it was good, that it felt as right for you as it did for him.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly before you’re leaning in again, wrapping your arms around his neck and he’ll go wherever you want him to go, as long as you keep kissing him like this. Your tongue grazes the seam of his lips and opens up for you, a soft moan pouring into your throat from his as he drags his tongue along yours. He can feel the way you shiver at that and he wants to make you do that again and again and - 

You pull back and he follows suit, not going to do anything more than you want, taking all his cues from you. 

“You know, given that I’m in a bit of a personal crisis,” you start to say and he instantly nods, completely understanding that this is not what you’re looking to do and he starts to put some more distance between you but then you tighten your grip and - oh? “And you’re a complete stranger who walked in here at two in the morning and we’re never going to see each other again and you probably won’t remember any of this-”

He nods, because he gets it, he really does. This isn’t the right time for you and - 

“I think we should have sex.”

What?

He knows his eyebrows must be shooting off his forehead right now and you quickly start to speak again, licking your lips and he;s helpless to not trace the exact movement of your tongue. 

“I don’t think I’ve said this to anyone ever in my life but I just think you’re here and I’m here and as you said, we are never crossing paths again which I think makes this exciting and the holidays are the perfect time to have my first ever one night stand so I think we should fuck.” you say and you’re practically panting after your speech. “If you want.”

If he wants? If he wants? Has he not been as glaringly obvious as he’s felt the last half hour or whatever? 

“I want. I really want.” he says and this time, you’re both leaning in, and this kiss is already different. It’s hotter, almost scorching and deep. He doesn’t want to ever stop kissing you, each curl of your tongue making him press his lips all the more hard against yours. He wants you, he wants you - 

“I should warn you - ,” you say, quickly pulling away and his lips quirk into a smile. This seems to be a habit of yours, the long winded speeches, the cogs of your brain never stopping as thoughts whirl through your mind. “I’m not good at this.”

“You’re - what?”

“I’m bad at sex.”

“That’s not possible.” 

“No, I am.” you say, and your eye contact falters for a moment before looking back at him. “My ex-boyfriend told me all the time -”

“I don’t think he’s got any sense of decent judgment if he was stupid enough to let you go. ”, he says, blood boiling at the thought of some prat telling you you’re not good enough. Which is impossible, just kissing you a few times makes him feel like he’s on fire. He’s surprised at how angry he feels, how protective of you he wants to be and he hardly knows you. “If y’ think for one second you should ever believe a dickhead like that, who had no idea how lucky he was -”

You shut him up with a kiss, pressing your lips to his for a moment before you’re already pulling away again. 

“I’m serious though I don’t want you to get disappointed -” you mumble against his mouth and he has to kiss you once, twice, three times before pulling back.

“Y’ not going to disappoint me. I want to kill that bloke for getting this idea into your head. Y’ dead sexy. Think ‘m addicted to your mouth.”

He leans in again and you slowly pull away when he gets too close, a tease that make heat pool in his stomach. Your hand slides down his tie as you slowly get up from the couch, not breaking eye contact as you walk backwards, slowly grabbing your glass and the bottle of whiskey and he’ll be damned if he looks away for a second, mouth suddenly dry.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Y’ already better than you think.”

You grin at him over your shoulder as you turn to make your way up the stairs and he stands up as if in a trance, grabbing his glass and following you as quick as he can without looking too eager even as he’s already loosening his tie. He’s definitely still pissed, can feel it in the way his feet trip over themselves occasionally but it’s fading, or at least becoming less important than the arousal dipping deep in his stomach as his eyes trail over the back of you, running a loop over your arse and legs that he swears he’ll never tire of. 

You turn to face him once you reach the bedroom at the top of the stairs, both of you finhsing off your glasses in one sip before putting them next to each other on the dresser with the bottle. And then you’re reaching for the bottom of your shirt, already beginning to pull it up before his hands gently grab your hands to stop you.

“Not even going to let me enjoy this bit? Let me do that,” he says and you huff a nervous laugh. His thumbs rub against the backs of your hands as he leans in to press a slow line of kisses along the side of your face and down your neck, tongue darting out to suck at the skin, the unique taste of you. He already can’t get enough.  “Can take our time, can’t we?”

You nod and he hums, leaning in to kiss you, his lips sliding against yours as he slides his hands underneath your shirt, letting his fingers graze against your bare skin of your back before gliding to your front and sliding up, feeling a bit like a fumbling teenager as he palms your breast underneath your shirt but it doesn’t seem to matter to you, given the gasp you let out into his mouth and he’s dying to hear what other sounds you make. 

He pulls away but not too far, pushing the shirt up and waiting for you to lift your arms before pulling it up and over your head and tossing it gracelessly next to the bed so he can get a good look at you. You fidget a little under his gaze before moving your hands to his shirt and he finds his gaze switching from your hands on his chest to your half naked body and he feels like he’s on fire. You make quick work of the buttons, pulling the shirt open before splaying your palms against his chest, small smile quirking at your lips when his muscles jump at your touch, every new move of your hands causing goosebumps in its wake. 

He quickly shrugs his shirt off and freezes when you move your hands behind your back to unhook your bra, the straps sliding down your arms as you pull it off. He was all set to chide you for rushing him but all words have left his brain because christ you’re stunning. 

“Y’ gorgeous. Can’t even believe it.” he says, eyes flickering from your chest to your face, unable to settle on one place, too much beauty before him. You shake your head slightly and he shakes his right back, his hand coming up to hold your chin while he guides your mouth back to his, pulling you flush against him, chest to chest. It’s sloppy and messy in an instant but neither of you care, practically clutching onto each other as you kiss.He feels warmer than he has all night, all year as your nipples graze against his, his hands unable to stop moving across your skin, taking hold of whatever he can. 

All thoughts of savoring the moment have flown out of his head, desperation seeping into his every pore as he feels like if he doesn’t get his mouth on you soon is going to lose his mind.  He licks his way into your mouth and walks you backwards until your knees hit the bed and he gently pushes you down against it. You prop yourself up on your elbows, backing up to make room for him as his hands fall to the waist of your joggers. He presses a few kisses to your belly before looking up at you, almost bowled over by the pure want in your eyes.

“Can I -” he asks and you’re nodding before he can even finish the question and he can’t help but huff a disbelieving laugh that has you flailing out one leg to kick him. He grabs your ankle for a moment, thumb brushing along the bone as his eyes scan your naked body, despite the joggers pooling at your ankles he can’t believe what he’s seeing. You’re fit. 

You move to sit up but he gently pushes you back down, helping you maneuver so you’re laying with your head against the pillows. His hands rubbing up and down your legs as he moves to kneel in between them on the bed. 

He ducks his head down, sliding down the bed as he kisses you before pressing kisses down your cheek and along your neck, your chest, your belly while his hands don’t stop their movements, loving how you feel underneath his palms. He can already feel himself getting too serious about this and will blame the alcohol in the morning, for how intensely he’s approaching this one night stand but he feels desperate to prove himself, to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt. His mouth continues its trail down your body, pressing a kiss to your hip bone, getting closer to where he wants his mouth the most - 

“Oh, you don’t have to -” you say, pressing yourself up on your palms. He freezes, lifting his head up, his hands stilling on your skin.

“Do y’ not want me to?”

“Oh, no. I mean - yes. I mean -  it’s just - I know that’s not like the best part of having sex -”

“Who told you tha’? That bloke you just broke up with?” he asks and you begrudgingly nod. “Thought we already established he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”

“Fair enough,” you laugh. “But it’s just - I haven’t had someone do this in so long and I know it’s like tedious and maybe a little gross and not really enjoyable for you -”

“That’s not true. I really enjoy it,” he says and he can see the way the words hit you, a look of awe and pure lust passing over your face in tandem, almost as if he can see the arousal spiking in your veins and oh, he wants more of that. “Not going to do anything you don’t want but ‘m telling you, I want this. And really like it. And want to do it for you. To you.” 

“Okay,” you say, weakly, breathlessly, his eyes distracted by the slight heaving of your chest before he looks back up at you.

“Okay?” he checks and you nod with a small smile that he mirrors, leaning in to kiss you again, to get you more malleable under his touch. His tongue swipes against yours, sucking it into his mouth, a preview that makes you moan, his hands tightening against your skin. His descent down your body is faster this time, he won’t be delayed any longer. His kisses a bit sloppier this time but no less determined. 

His hands slide up your thighs and grip tight to hold you in place as he slides down the bed to bring his face directly in line with your core. He looks up at your face, the way your chest heaves slightly and you desperately nod and that’s all the permission he needs as he dives in with a groan. 

He has no idea the last time anyone has done this for you, likely years given the way you react to the first lick of his tongue, hips punching up into the air and he has to scramble to hold on for a moment before he holds tight again, holding you right where he wants you so he can take you apart. He presses soft kisses to your clit, tongue darting out every so often so he can hear those sweet sounds that have begun to leave your lips. 

“Y’ alright?” he murmurs against you. “‘S good?”

“So good,” you practically whine, back arching as he takes broad licks, wanting to taste all of you at once, pressing down on your hips so you’ll stay right where he wants you as he nudges his nose against your clit. “Fuck.” 

“Doing so good for me,” he mumbles and he can feel your hips twitch, unable to hide the smile on his face, the heat searing through him at how much you liked that. This is already more intense than other hookups he’s had this year, he’s more focussed on getting you off than he he has been on anything but he can’t bring himself to analyze that just now, just wants to keep tasting, keep feeling the jumps of your muscles underneath his palms, the sweet sounds pouring out of you. 

Once he knows you’ll hold still, he brings his thumbs in to hold you open just the way he’d like you. Tongue licking down into your entrance before slowly circling back up to your clit, taking his time to suck it in into his mouth, tongue drawing patterns along the sensitive bud and he moans against you, at your taste, the way your hips keep twitching but you do your best to hold still. Your sounds have started to become more muffled and he looks up to see you holding a hand over your mouth. He reaches up quickly to pull it away, interlacing your fingers and you give his hand a squeeze.

“Let me hear you, love.” he murmurs, kissing along your inner thigh. “Sound so good. Taste so good.”

You let out a loud moan at that and he groans as he dives back in, being able to taste and feel the effect he has on you making him harder than he’s been in ages. He ruts down against the bed a few times for some sweet relief before focusing on the task at hand. You’ve not let go of his hand and keep squeezing it every so often and he brings your interlaced fingers to the top of his head to let your hand rest in his hair. 

“Y’ can pull, darling.” he mumbles against you. “Want to know y’ like it.”

“I do - fuck. Harry -” 

The way you moan his name has him more determined than ever as he takes deep, languid licks of you, kissing along your clit and swirling his tongue around it. You’re a symphony now, gasps and moans, hips twitching as you pull his hair every so often. He closes his eyes, letting himself get lost in this, in you. 

He can tell when you’re about to come, though he has no sense of how much time has passed, finding himself utterly enraptured by you. But your noises are getting higher, your hand locked into his hair and he tightens his grip on your hips, pulling you into his face as he sucks on your clit, hard, opening his eyes at the exact moment you fall apart. Mouth open and loud, eyes closed with a furrow in your brow as your back arches, your free hand sliding along the bedding for something to hold onto, your other hand holding his hair for dear life. He can’t take his eyes off you, even as you come down, your eyes fluttering open as you dry to take some deep breaths, laying your arm across your forehead as you blink up at the ceiling. 

“Shit.” you say after a few moments and he hums in agreement. You’ve still not let go of his hair and he’d be fine to lay like this for the rest of the night.

“Do y’ want another like that?” he asks, grazing his lips across your hip bone as you look down at him almost in disbelief. “Give y’ as many as you want.”

“Where did you come from?!” you ask, making him laugh as he rests his forehead against your belly, just breathing you in. Your hand loosens its grip in his hair, now running your hands through it gently. 

“Can you come up here, please?” you ask softly and he props himself up on his palms, crawling up the bed, up your body until you're face-to-face, your hand sliding down from his hair and resting on the back of his neck. You look the most relaxed you’ve been since he first saw your face, cracked open in the best way possible, stunning smile hasn’t left your face since you came apart on his tongue. 

Your thumb brushes along his bottom lip, wiping away traces of you and he’s quick to suck the thumb into his mouth, making you close your eyes, seemingly overwhelmed for a moment. 

“Was it good for you?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek before pulling back to look at your face. He knows the answer already, not to sound too completely full of himself but he could feel the effect it had on you, could see the pleasure on your face when you came but he needs to hear it. 

You look back at him like you know exactly what he’s doing and he loves that, that he feels like you can already read him so easily despite all the things he’s left unsaid. Makes him think he can say them. Has to keep reminding himself this is just for tonight. 

“So good,” you say softly, raw, open vulnerability on your face. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s done that for me and -”

He cuts you off with a kiss then, can’t bear the thought of you being trapped in this loveless, sexless relationship for years, wants to kiss it all away. Wants to do all he can to undo all the falsehoods your ex told you, all the things he made you feel or never made you feel. 

“Thank you” you’re murmuring against his mouth but he’s already shaking his head, kissing you deeply before pulling away.

“‘S the bare minimum. Don’t want you ever believing a word that bastard said to you.” he says fiercely. He leans in to kiss you again and this time you take over, holding on to his neck as you lick into his mouth, shivering against him when he groans. 

“Was it good for you?” you mumble, already trying to pull him back in for another kiss to protect yourself from his answer but he resists, opting to look you straight in the eye.

“Good for me?” he asks incredulously, can’t believe you’re even asking as if you can’t feel his hard length digging into your thigh. He grounds his hips against you for emphasis, living for the way you gasp, kissing his way up your neck to whisper in your ear. 

“Feel that?” he asks and you shakily nod. “Y’ got me so hard, just from tasting you. Just from making you feel good. Because you did, yeah? Felt good?.”

“So good,” you all but moan out, pulling him back into a kiss as your free hand travels down his body and he feels like he’s on fire, has to focus on kissing you into oblivion because he feels like he is going to explode, almost blacking out when you wrap your hand around him. He has to bury his face in your neck, dragging his lips against your skin and biting down when your next touch comes back wet. 

“What do you want?” you ask and he’s already shaking his head.

“‘S about what you want. Supposed to be welcoming you to the country,” he says and it startles a laugh out of you and he has to pull back to get a look at your face, the uninhibited glee on your face. He made that happen. He wants to keep making that happen. 

You lean in to kiss him again and he’s unable to stop the moan when you thumb over the head of his cock before going back to working your hand over him.

“Want you inside me.” you whisper and he nods, an endless stream of “yes, please” leaving his mouth before you continue: “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, about not being good.”

“None of that, sweetheart, I won’t hear it.” he says, kissing a line along your jaw. “Y’ already so good.”

He never talks this much during sex, maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s you but he finds himself mumbling into your ear about how good you’re doing, how good you are, just for him, living for the way you shiver. All he can think is that his can’t be the last time he has you like this. It’s irrational, it’s irrelevant, it’s insane to be this gone just from getting his mouth on you and you’re flying home to Los Angeles where you live in mere hours and his life is complicated beyond belief but this can’t be it for you two. It can’t be it can’t be it can’t. 

You’ve been steadily kissing down his neck while he let his mind wander and know he needs to get back in the game. If this is it, he’s going to make it the best night of your life.

He slides his hand down your body, fingers brushing over your folds, still soaked and pushing two fingers into you, his ministrations from earlier making the stretch easy. His eyes never leave your face as he moves his fingers in you, taking note of what makes your eyes roll back, what makes your hand lose its rhythm on him. 

“How do y’ want to -?”

“Like this. Want to see you.” you say and he kisses you, quick and deep.

“Need a -” 

“In the drawer. Saw them earlier. ” you say and he pauses with a groan as realization dawns on you both and you start to laugh. “Oh shit. Those are your sister’s -”

“Don’t, please. ‘S disgusting.”

“They’re not used -”

“Stop stop stop.” he says, his eyes shut and you’re shaking with laughter against him. “Gonna make me sick. Or go soft.” 

“Just pretend they’re mine. And we’re in my bed.”

“Christ, I forgot about the bed. Might actually be sick.” 

“Shhh, you’re not gonna do that.” you say, your hand sliding down him again and playing with him just the way he likes. “You gonna pass up the chance to fuck me? Thought you wanted to make me feel good.”

He’s stunned for a moment, looking down at you, the way your simpering gaze never wavers from his and his breath catches in his throat, heat pooling in his stomach. He’s more turned on than he can ever remember being, just staring back at you in disbelief. 

“Told y’ you’re better at this than you think.” he mutters and you laugh, kissing him once before urging him to move over onto his back and he pushes back against the pillows when you straddle him, hands sliding up your thighs to hold you in place despite the surprise on his face.

“Thought y’ wanted -”

“Changed my mind.” you say. “This alright with you?”

“How can y’ even ask that? Of course it’s alright, you’re -”

He’s cut off when you lean over him to open the end table drawer, chests brushing against each other and his hands slide up your back. You grab a condom, completely ignoring the way he grumbles about how freudian this bit feels as you sit back against his thighs. You keep your eyes locked on his as you open the package and slowly roll it down his cock. You lean in, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest and then kissing your way up, mapping a line across his skin with your lips until you reach his mouth. 

It feels like ages since he last kissed you and he lets himself get lost in every press of your lips against his, the way your tongue slides over his lips, the light moan you let into his mouth when he opens up. He’s so lost in the feel of you, the taste, that he misses the moment you start to sink down onto him until he’s already inside. And - fuck. 

Everything is warm and wet and tight. His hands grip you hard as he pulls back to look at you, heart skipping a beat when he sees you’re as affected as he is. That this feels as once in a lifetime for you as for him. The way your bodies sync up like they were made for each other. And sure, you’re both a bit drunk. And it's the holidays and everything gets warped but what if this is different? What if this is more?

It’s a thought that doesn’t leave his mind even as you start to bounce in his lap, and he wants to curse and thank your ex at the same time because he can’t imagine having gone his whole life without experiencing this. Without experiencing you. He can’t stop kissing anywhere he can reach as his hips start to snap up and meet your own, your bodies creating a perfect rhythm without much effort. This is more. 

He knows you feel it too, can see it in the way you respond to his every touch, his every mutter of how good you’re doing, the way your rhythm falters when he punches his hips up just right, lips sliding against yours until it’s too good that all you can do is just breath against each other. He’s not too sex stupid to call this love - he only just met you like an hour ago - but there’s a spark here he can’t ignore, a spark he’s never felt before and he needs it. He’ll do anything to have it. To have you. 

He thinks it when you tire from being on top and ask him to switch and he gets to pin you down against the bed with his body, watch every emotion sweep over your face as he drives his hips into yours, adjusting the angle to make it just right, to make you moan into his mouth the way he has come to crave. 

He thinks it when he feels you start to come again, your eyes not leaving his as you clench around him. When you pull him closer, hand sliding down to his arse to encourage the roll of his hips, whispering in his ear that no one has ever made you feel this good, that he’s the best you’ve ever had until he’s coming, stars behind his eyes as he shoots into the condom and holds onto you for dear life.

He thinks it when your pillowtalk turns into wandering hands and lips and a round two, then three until you collapse against each other, sweaty, content. 

Even the next morning when reality literally comes calling, he still thinks it and wants to do whatever he can to convince you to stay. He goes for casual, an invite to a pub, “if you change your mind” tacked on as if he is someone who could just let you walk out of his life forever and not think twice about it, as if his mind isn’t replaying every instant of your night together, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from begging. 

There’s something about the way you’re fully dressed so early, already seemingly bracing yourself to go back to the real world, your walls already going back up and all he wants is to get you pliant in his arms again, to feel your skin against his skin, your mouth on his mouth. He wants to know you even more than he wants to get back in bed with you, something he swore he would never ever feel again at the funeral years ago. 

He wants you to feel it too but isn’t going to force anything. You said your life was complicated and he knows his life would only add to it. So maybe you just had this one special night, one life changing, mind blowing night and that was it. He forces himself to leave, to remind you of the name of the pub “just in case”, to press a chaste kiss to your cheek when all he wants to do is get your mouth on his again. This was something more…wasn’t it?

When he gets to the pub later that night, absolutely trapped in his own mental spiral, beating himself up for not trying to be more direct. To ask you to stay, at the very least for the two weeks you were meant to. To just see what this is, what it could be. But he’s a coward and he let you walk out of his life. He’s planning on drinking away his depression, to numb himself from focusing too much on the once in a lifetime chance that slipped through his fingers. This person he let get away. Who he will never ever see again. 

Then, he looks up. And there you are, sitting at a table, a glass of wine in front of you. You lock eyes with him and break out into a grin, giving him a shy wave that he returns in a daze. So, you feel it too. This newness, this otherness, this spark. It’s like Christmas came early and he has to stop himself from running over to your table and taking you in his arms. You’ve got time now, even if it's just these two weeks but he’s going to cherish every moment of it. 

He’ll be damned if he lets you get away again.

----

a/n: can u believe i've written something that is not part of the something old universe i simply cannot and i am nervous !! let me know what u think. starting writing this last december and felt like tis the season heres some smut.

[anantaru]

⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ i like the way you kiss me, i can tell you miss me

synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ your ex boyfriend childe recently found out that you've been seeing another guy lately. // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡

cw. jealous! childe, rough & needy, exes missing each other but not admitting it, hinted at a previous toxic relationship between you two, fem! reader ♡

"did he touch you like this?" childe mumbles against your ear as his hand slowly slid over your curves, touching your body.

the impact this brazen question had on you made your body shudder in embarrassment, not only that but you could feel your own blood being forced to frenziedly race through your shape with every new drag of his cock dashing ripples of glee into you.

he knows what he's doing, he's planned this.

the harbinger knows everything apparently, or perhaps he's actually made up an entire different story to what he thought happened on your date.

he cups your cheek and runs his thumb across your bottom lip reverently, "or was he rougher?" slower?" he taunts, and there's an instant jolt of pride up the harbinger's spine when he notices how you're embarrassingly averting his satisfied gaze.

he hasn't lost his grip on you yet, he's sure of it, and he welcomed that you're so easy to read, to the point where you'd choke on a cry consistently, more so when he rushed through that one spot he would never forget to stimulate.

"w-why does it matter?" your words come out quicker than your mind could've properly processed them as you whimper out wetly to him.

you quirk up a brow, feeling a tender hold of confidence aid your frame, "aah— it's not like we're dating anymore or anything,"

that breathy, almost belittling laugh that tumbled over your parted mouth reached his heart, fracturing his vitality.

"we're broken up, ajax, please," you shuffle your arms around his neck before abruptly pulling him towards you, so your lips could brush against his ear shell as you whisper seductively;

"i can fuck whoever i want,"

tilting his head, instead of falling for it, childe confidently cocks a brow before planting a wet kiss on your cheek, "huh? archons, what a mouth you got on yourself," as he spreads, burns and dominates your glistening walls until he's certain you're where he needed you to be— vulnerable to him, perhaps even admitting the truth and stopping your bratty mouth to spill anymore wrongs.

"come on, will you? come on," he laughs manically, his hips jerking hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs as your breasts bounce in tandem with his ruthless thrust, "don't pretend like he'll ever catch up to me, fuck— baby..." he grinds deeper, watching how a nasty ring of white covers the majority of his base.

you roll your eyes but know he's right— because no one could ever unlock the love you've had for ajax before you two had broken up. those rough hands of his were your everything, in comparison to how he used them against his enemies, towards you, he wielded them lightly.

you squeeze and squeeze him, practically telling him that yes, you've missed him so much but no, you're not willing to ever get in a relationship with him again. for that, you've put in too much work already to forget about ajax, the man you loved so unconditionally.

"doesn't matter," your voice echos like a soft whimper as you hug him, desperately wanting to feel how all his inches were painfully throbbing while squeezed by your walls, "we. don't. work." concurrently to his sultry rolls, you pant out a crushing reality.

childe didn't want to hear that, not now, not ever again.

he pushes inside and groans out hot against your ear, before forcing himself to move his hips slower, despite the expanded lust inside of him wanting to slam right into you, fuck— the harbinger was aggravated, frustrated and saddened at the same time. not because of you, yet due to the fact that primarily, it was his fault that things ended on how they did.

a candid confession should never find its way inside of a situation this unrepeatable, "i love you," he whines, his cock plunging with passion as if to emphasize his spelled out words.

your mouth opens instantly for a rebuttal as he swiftly runs a hand down your breasts, pinching your nipples, desperate to swallow up your mewls and keep them stored within him.

foreheads pressed against each other, no words said out loud.

childe regrets everything right now, because you are just his everything, his all.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[charmedreincarnation]

When I say that this journey is real, and our struggles are not in vain, I am shouting it from the rooftops. A month ago, I woke up with my dream life. Obsessed with the "void state", I woke up one day being the same person but with an entirely new life. All because I chose it.

Your efforts aren't going unnoticed. The universe is always on your side. You are the universe. It's been a month, and I still feel overwhelmed with joy and wonder every single day.

I was once poor and battling depression, a reality many can relate to. But we found the law because we knew we deserved more. You can be ordinary, flawed, even unkind, but you can choose to transform and have it all. And I did just that. My parents, who were illegal immigrants working underpaid jobs, are now wealthy and respected figures. My last name alone garners recognition, and I am a socialite earning money just by being me.

I used to live in an attic infested with cockroaches. Now, I reside in a four-story mansion, complete with exotic cars, house help, cooks, drivers - all treated and compensated fairly. We also own three other houses across the United States.

I was once insecure, severely underweight, and bullied. Today, not only am I stunningly beautiful, but I am also praised for my fashion sense. I was once a dull person, but now I am radiant with positivity.

I attended an underfunded school where I was bullied, and teachers lacked resources to intervene. Now, I study at a prestigious private school that assures my entry into an Ivy League university. Finally, I am respected and appreciated.

I was lonely and uninteresting. Now, I am vibrant with a close-knit group of friends and a man who seems straight out of a Wattpad story. He's perfect, and he's mine.

This transformation happened overnight. And I've been on this journey since 2020. But how??? I surrendered to my imagination!

The void was overwhelming, but now I can easily navigate it. I was tired of giving my power away. So, I gave in to myself, to my dreams. I knew I deserved it. Even if I didn't believe it at times, I made the choice. If you desire something, it's already yours. It's done.

I didn't have a list or anything of my desires, just a vision of happiness. I didn't know what it looked like, but I knew how it felt. Now, I embody that feeling every day. My life is a series of plot twists. It's not perfect, but my worst days now are what I once prayed for. That old life? POOF It's gone. All I have is now, and I'm living it to the fullest.

My advice?

Stop seeking proof. If you're looking for proof, you'll never manifest your dreams because the only thing that needs to change is self. Doubt is a reflection of your disbelief in yourself. When I surrendered to my imagination, it didn't matter who was lying or telling the truth, because I had my truth. The burden of proof lies within you. It's called the law of assumption. You might harbor some doubt, but you must have faith like the devout. They believe without proof. You can too! We all can! Believe in yourself, and the universe will conspire in your favor!!!!

I agree! Your words resonated with me a lot. Faith, particularly self-faith, is such an important tool in shaping our realities. The ability to trust ourselves, our desires, and our potential is essential in manifesting our dream life, and it’s only so beautiful to slowly see yourself give yourself all your trust when you’ve never even liked yourself.

You're spot on about the issue of seeking confirmation from others. It's an unnecessary hurdle that we give ourselves but it’s human nature. Our truths and dreams should not be validated by anyone else but us. As you said, why should it matter if someone lied or told the truth? We are the creators of our own lives and thus, the only validation we need comes from within.

And I wholeheartedly agree with your point about deservingness. We don't have to earn our desires or prove ourselves worthy of them. If we want something, that desire alone makes us deserving of it.

More importantly I am very proud and happy for you !!!! You’re a testament of what our own imagination can do for us and I hope you only keep getting happier and happier <3!!!!

[astrosouldivinity]

𝑾𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅: 𝑨 𝑹𝒆𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝑹𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒍𝒍𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑

~ 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝚁𝚑𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚖 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝙱𝚕𝚞𝚎𝚜

🧹I had the opportunity to see Wicked, and it was an emotional experience that resonated deeply with me. The movie serves as a poignant mirror to our current social climate in America, particularly regarding how Black women are treated because of systemic racism. Here are my insights.

✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎

✯ As a Black woman, Wicked resonated deeply with me. I couldn't think of a better actress to portray Elphaba than Cynthia Erivo, who channels her experiences as a Black woman into the role in a way that feels both authentic and powerful. Elphaba embodies the struggles and resilience of marginalized identities (Black women), illustrating how society often seeks to harness our magic without truly valuing us. People recognize our power but attempt to appropriate it for their own gain, failing to uplift us or give credit where it’s due. This creates a sense of entitlement and a lack of genuine investment in our well-being.

✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎

✯ Glinda is a representation of the many performative allies I've encountered. Those who appear “nice” but whose kindness is ultimately superficial. They cling to their privilege and are unwilling to sacrifice it, even at the cost of the collective progress. It’s disheartening to realize that what seems like allyship is often a self-serving facade; you become a tool for them, prioritized only when it benefits their interests. Their support feels performative, as if they expect gratitude for merely acknowledging your existence. Glinda treats Elphaba like a token or pet even, enforcing an unspoken power dynamic that keeps Elphaba beneath her.

✯ Glinda is a coward; she desires to be seen as kind, yet her actions reveal otherwise. To her, maintaining power is more important than doing the right thing. Without her status, who is Glinda? This context reflects the lyrics from "Defying Gravity": “I hope you're proud how you would grovel in submission to feed your own ambition.” It perfectly captures the essence of performative allyship. She complicitly contributes to the suffering of others while projecting a facade of goodness. The saying goes, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." Glinda is, in a sense, brainwashed; she is unable to see reality because she genuinely believes in the inherent goodness of the world. In contrast, Elphaba understands the harsh truth, shaped by her experiences of being an outcast and rejected by society.

✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎

✯ Emerald City wants to embody green but simultaneously vilifies Elphaba for being green herself. This parallel reflects how society often appropriates Black culture while rejecting Black people themselves. Throughout the movie, we see how easily people can paint you as the villain and undervalue you, undermining your capabilities no matter your qualifications. This narrative resonates with the experiences of many Black women who face constant scrutiny and doubt, even when they prove their worth time and again. Elphaba’s journey highlights the struggle against these unjust perceptions and the resilience required to rise above them.

✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎

✯ Marginalized for her skin color, Elphaba is made to feel inferior for being different. Yet, despite this, she shows empathy and compassion for those who lack it for her. Her ability to extend kindness in the face of adversity highlights her strength and resilience. This juxtaposition emphasizes the unfairness of her situation, as she navigates a world that often dehumanizes her while still choosing to uplift others. Elphaba's journey serves as a powerful reminder that true strength lies not only in overcoming one's struggles but also in maintaining compassion for those who may not understand or appreciate your worth.

✯ In “Defying Gravity,” Elphaba discovers that the minimal allies she thought she had were actually using her for their own selfish desires. Yet, she transcends above this betrayal, ultimately realizing her own power and ability to shape her own destiny. Similarly, in “Dancing Through Life,” Elphaba’s unique expression only gains validation through Glinda’s approval, highlighting how Glinda could have used her privilege to challenge the Wizard but consciously chose not to.

✯ Ultimately, Wicked invites us to reflect on the importance of authentic allyship and the responsibility that comes with privilege. It challenges us to examine how we can uplift marginalized voices rather than exploiting them for our own narratives. While the themes of this movie resonate with the current political climate in America, it can extend beyond just the Black experience; however, I find the parallels to be undeniably distinctive nonetheless.

✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎ 𖦹 ✴︎

✯ I would love to hear your perspectives on how the movie resonated with you and what feelings it evoked. Art is a reflection of life, and there’s so much you can learn from it. ☺️

𝔁𝓸𝔁𝓸- 𝓚𝓲𝓴𝓲 (𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢) 🩷💚

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 📋

• 𝙸’𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝙰𝚜 𝚊 𝙶𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗, 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜. 𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚕𝚘𝚕!

[writingroom21]

The Nanny

Pairing: Rafe x Nanny Reader

Summary: Being Wheezie's nanny was great. The only downside was dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?

Warnings: Fluff, 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it up y'all), cream pie, mention of oral, fingering (f receiving), mentions of drugs

Wc:8.2K

A/N: Sorry for the long wait it has been a hectic week. I had a lot to do for this job I applied for so I was busy. But good news is that I got it! Anyway last chapter which is sad, but I hope you enjoy. Thank you for all the love this series has gotten. I owe it all to everyone of you!

Chapter 9: Laying All Our Cards Down

There’s a tickling feeling on your chest. It slowly stirs you from your sleep. The objects in you dream fading into shapes, then blobs of random color. Your hand goes to relieve the itch, still half asleep. Your fingers brush against a hand, their fingers the cause of what woke you. 

Rafe’s eyes watched you as you woke up, his fingers dropping the pendant to lace together with yours. Your eyes squint open slightly foggy from sleep still. They clear and Rafe is staring at you, his fingers playing with yours. “You put the necklace back on.” He points out, fine lines wrap his eyes showing his confusion. 

“Yeah.” You carefully look at his face, waiting to see if he will mention last night. “Why?” His blue eyes are burrowing into yours, forcing you to look at him. “You know why.” You won’t be the first to bring it up. Refusing to let him back you into a corner to crack you. His nostrils flare, a sharp breath leaving. “I don’t deserve you. It would never work anyway.”

There he is doing it again. Taking back the things he says, leaving you broken. “Well that’s not for you to decide.” Your voice is tense, starting to get upset at where he’s about to go. “How are you feeling?” He’s trying to ignore this conversation. Once you have it there’s no going back.

He can’t sit here and wait for you to leave him. You may be forgiving him now but in the end you will leave him. His mom died to get away from him, his dad would sell him out in a heart beat to get away from him, no one stays. That’s the one thing he learned growing up. The only constant in his life will only be him.

“Don’t ignore me.” You exclaim, your body shooting up to look down at him. “We are having this conversation now. I just want this to be over with.” Your eyes burn him so badly that he has to look behind you at the wall. “I’m not. Just worried about how you feel after what happened.” Liar. You both know he’s not telling the truth

 “Please don’t tell me that you really don’t want anything to do with me. This means something to me.” Your voice is hopeful, wanting him to say he feels the same as you. “Last night was scary until it wasn’t. That’s because I had you. Now please talk to me.” You plead.

Rafe turns his gaze back to you. His red eyes are lined with tears, he knows what he needs to say. It’s just hard for the words to form and make their way out. “This means something to me too.” It’s a whisper, afraid if he says it loudly he’ll wake up from this dream to reality. To a place where you won’t forgive him, a place where he doesn’t have you. “I’m scared you are going to leave me.” He admits, swallowing his pride.

“Why would you think that? Is that how you view me?” Your mind is trying to wrap around his confession. If that’s what he thought of you then you are hurt even more. You could slightly stand the thought of him just not wanting you anymore. The thought of him not trusting you, thinking that you would just leave hurts worse than when you caught him kissing someone else. A panic rises in your body due to your emotions.

Rafe picks up on this, his hand rubbing the arm that is holding you up. Giving you comfort as he speaks. “That’s not what I mean. I just…” He flops on his back to stare at the ceiling. You place a hand on his chest. Returning the sense of safety he gives you. “Everyone leaves me. You know how sad it is that the only person to actually worry about me since my mom died was you? Before her death my dad hated me and it only got worse after. No one has ever liked me and I was okay with that. Then you show up and change everything. I can’t lose that, I won’t be able to handle it.”

You watch each other, letting the words sink in. He’s shocked he even indulged in that conversation, you are just as shocked that he opened up. “So why would that mean I would leave you?” His hand lays on top of the one you kept on his chest. Giving your fingers a squeeze. “It’s inevitable, everyone leaves. Only a matter of time before you realize I’m worth nothing and you leave too. I’m just cursed.” His fingers have a tight hold on you. Using you as his life line, tethering him to the real world as he feels like he’s drowning.

This talk is starting to feel too real for him. Highlighting all of his flaws to put on a talent show for you. A bright spot light shining on a RUN sign to ward you off. You can feel how fast his heart is beating, pounding against his chest. “You are worth something.” Your hand leaves his, cupping his cheek to make him see you. “You Rafe Cameron are worthy of love. I’m sorry no one was smart enough to see it. But I do.” 

Rafe leans up, closing in on you. “You don’t know half of the shit that goes on in my head. I’m not good enough for you. I couldn’t even get this shit right, I’ll only hurt you more.” His hand brushes hair out of your face, tracing your brow and then your lips. “I won’t hurt you. You deserve better than this.”

A tear runs down his cheek and you wipe it. “See that right there just proves you won’t hurt me. I didn’t want to see it at first but you owned your mistake. You ran after me that night and begged me to talk to you. You kept asking me to give you a chance to speak. Then you gave me those flowers with the note and I realized I was shutting you out. I was afraid of you not wanting me and I iced you out.” You take a deep breath before continuing.

“I’m scared too. It’s okay to be scared, we both let it get the best of us. What counts is what we do after. You kept trying, I hope it’s because you care-” “I do. I care.” He interrupts. “See you care and you tried to put in the effort. You even gave me space because you wanted to respect what I wanted. You made a mistake but you are trying to fix it. You might not see it but you are good. You deserve to be loved, don’t punish yourself for something that isn’t your fault.”

His lips crash on yours, stealing the air from your lungs. The kiss is all consuming, devouring you from the inside out. A moan slips out of your mouth, your hand gripping his shoulder. The sound was like an alarm, alerting him of what he was actually doing. He pulls away from you, his hand moving to your chest to put distance between you both. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Stop taking everything back. I want this too, stop running away from us.” There’s some commotion in the hallway but you ignore it. Voices get louder for a second and then fade as they go down the stairs. His eyes catch the pendant on the dainty chain held on your neck. 

He remembers the day he bought it. He had just dropped you off to get the food and stopped at the store. Rafe was walking back to his truck with the bags in his and had to pass the jewelry store. When he got to the front of the shop he looked over and something in him took over. He just had to go inside.

As he walked in, the man behind the counter greeted him. “Are you looking for something specific?” The older man asks. Rafe just shakes his head. “Just looking.” He walks around the store, aimlessly looking at the pieces laying around. He’s not really sure why he came in or why he is even looking at anything. Just when he was going to turn around and leave the store, that's when he saw it.

A dainty necklace that had a sun charm on it. He walks closer to it on instinct, being drawn to it like a beacon. It’s silver, which fits perfectly with the rest of your jewelry, he thinks. The only things you wear is silver, never any gold seen on your skin. “Nice necklace right?” The old man pipes in.

“Huh?” Rafe looks at the guy who is now in front of him. “The necklace. Just got it recently, no one seems to want it.” Rafe looks back down to it. “There a girl you want to get it for.” He just nods, pulling out his wallet without thinking. “Yeah my girl. She uh, she’s like the sun. Thought it would be fitting.”

The man opens the case, taking the piece out for Rafe to see up close. “She must be special then.” Rafe just smiles, looking at the guy as he slides his card over. “You have no idea.” The guy doesn’t move from his spot, looking at the boy that reminded him of when he was younger. “You know it comes with a ring. It was a set this old lady brought in.” He walks over to a different case and pulls the ring out, walking back to the boy. 

“Would you be interested in buying that as well or just the necklace.” Rafe has half a mind to chew the man out for trying to up-sell him. The ring is a band made of silver as well, carvings of a little sun with stars surround the band. His mind is telling him he has no need for the ring. Then the voice in his head stops him, instead of degrading himself it does something different. It reminds him of the car ride, the feeling he had as he looked at you.

He meant it when he said that you were like the sun. A dazzling ray of sunshine personally made for him. You are the greatest thing that’s happened to him in his shitty lifetime. You deserve to feel special too.

“I’ll take them both.” He knows why he got the ring. A part of him deep down knowing that he was falling in love with you. The other part rationalizing the purchase as wanting the old man to fuck off. “You remind me of when I met my wife.” Rafe stops at the door and looks back at the guy who helped him. “I was so in love with her that I bought her an engagement ring a month into seeing her. You just have the same look that I had. I wish you two the best of luck.”

The memory now seems laughable to him. Some random old man could spot how Rafe felt before he could even tell. He only gave you the necklace because he was scared of what he said, he couldn’t have been in love. Leaving the ring in the first drawer on the bedside table. Now he sees just how dumb he really was, he didn’t have anything to worry about. 

“Your love.” That’s all he says to you, leaving you more confused. “What about it?” He chuckles at you, giving you a quick peck. “That’s my favorite song, Your love. I didn’t have one when you asked but I have one now.” This really isn’t helping his case. You sit up fully, looking at him like he’s dumb. He hates that look, especially coming from you. “What the hell does that have to do with any of this? Rafe I’m being serious here, you can’t just keep changing the subject. If you don’t want this anymore just say it.” You kinda feel stupid now. You thought he wanted to work things out, that last night was a step forward in the right direction. But clearly not.

“It’s the song that was playing in the car after Barry’s.” Okay now he’s just getting on your nerves. Who cares what song was playing in the car ride. When you go to speak he puts his hand on your mouth to cover it. “I just couldn’t stop looking at you. You were glowing, so pretty that I couldn’t think straight. My heart felt like it was ready to jump out my chest and my body felt weird. Everything shifted in that moment for me.” His hand lowers, his eyes telling you to not say anything.

“I’ve always had feelings for you, I know that. I’m not dumb. I just thought it was because you didn’t give me the time of day and were so nice. That night when you caught me I figured you would walk away and I got caught up in the moment. Then it escalated and I couldn’t get rid of the taste of you. Every touch was as addicting as the last, I kept craving it. That song, in that moment made me realize how much I actually liked you. Got that necklace right after I left you to get the food. I guess it was my way of telling you I loved you without putting it into words.” 

He said it again, love. Rafe froze the moment his brain caught up to his words. He can’t believe this is how he is saying it. Right after he just figured it out he goes on blurting it to you. Not only that he tells you when you aren’t even together. This is honestly the dumbest he felt and he just said how he isn’t dumb. Good job Rafe.

“Fuck I can’t believe I just said that. Ignore me.” His hands rub his face as he freaks out. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, exposing his face to you. “You said it last night so don’t worry.” You lay down, your chest pressed against his side as he wraps himself around you. “What do you mean?” He plays with the ends of your hair to ground himself. “Last night as you were falling asleep you said you loved me. I just thought it was the drugs and you were out cold after you said it.”

“Oh.” Yeah he has to take his dumb statement back, he definitely is. If he’s already said it then there’s no taking it back, he’s got to commit to it before he chickens out again. “It wasn’t the drugs. Yeah they helped me say it but I meant it. They didn’t make those feelings, they were already there.” You smile, the heaviness you felt being melted away. You move closer to his face.

“Here’s what you missed after you fell asleep. I love you too.” It’s his turn to smile. This one reaches his eyes, creases deepening from the joy. His hand cups your cheeks, thumb caressing your cheek. Pulling you to him, kissing you deeply. Pouring all his feelings into you, hoping you are feeling just an ounce of what he does. He pulls back to talk to you but you have other plans. 

Your lips trail down his neck as he fights to stay level headed. “I meant it when I said I don’t deserve you.” He murmurs into your shoulder, pressing kisses to your skin. You stop, not wanting to move in case this is going in the wrong direction. “But I want to be. I don’t want to be this person anymore. I want to be someone you deserve.”

“I like you the way you are. You don’t have to change for me.” He tugs your hair, coming face to face with your eyes. “I want to do it for me, for us. I don’t like who I am without you, I’m just some addict no one likes. I don’t need to be that anymore, I know I can be different.”

The words seem more for him than they are for you. A way of telling himself that he can get clean and he is worth being with you. “Then I’ll be there every step of the way. I believe in you.” That’s the first time someone has said that to him. He’s been told he was loved before, but not one has believed in him. Now that he’s said he loved you, the feeling keeps bubbling up. 

Like it’s boiling in him ready to spill out once it gets too much. The way you care for him is unsettling due to it being so new, he’s not used to this. But he can get used to the feeling it gives him. The sparks of joy lighting his insides like fireworks.

You lean in and kiss him again, enjoying the feeling of having him close. The days following the incident were awful but they seem worth it now. Some obstacle that needed to be overcome before the two of you could open up. You know for sure that once Ward and Rose got back you would have most likely ended things due to the fear. But losing each other showed you that it’s not what the two of you wanted. You wanted each other.

This kiss was getting heated, your leg bracketing his hips between yours. As you start to grind on him, he stops you. “We should stop.” There’s a knock at the door before you could ask him why. “Who is it?” He shouts towards the door, fingers digging into your flesh as you roll your hips. “It’s Wheeze. Where is she?” You both look at each other not knowing what to do. “She’s not in her room or the house and I know she’s in there.”

Of course she would check everywhere for you. “Go back to your room Wheeze or wherever. I’ll be out shortly.” You answer, trying to get her to leave . “Fine but I better not hear any moaning. Just because I’m okay with this doesn’t mean I want to see it.”

Her footsteps retreat as you giggle. “I want us to take things slow this time. I don’t want to rush in and fuck things up. We should do this properly.” Your fingers drag along his chest, you are still sitting in his lap. “We can do that. Where do we start?” He grins up at you.

“How about a date?”

✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶ 

After that morning you had a talk with Wheezie. You and Sarah sat her down to tell her that the night before was not okay. “Wheeze you could have gotten hurt. Someone could have spiked your drink or worse.” You try to reason with her, conveying your worry for the young girl. “I know but nothing happened. I’m fine.” “And if you weren’t? How do you think dad would have reacted if he found out? You would be grounded and out a nanny.” Sarah chimes in, not really making her sister feel any better. “I know you wanted to hang out with your friends but you need to do it safely. Where were they when Sarah found you? You were alone and drunk Wheeze.”

“It wasn’t supposed to go like that. Sure I had a drink or two but I just wanted you to come find me. I thought you would run into Rafe and everything would fix itself. But hey look it worked.” She’s trying to lighten the mood and it ain’t working. You sigh, not knowing what to say. This mess of a night happened all because Wheezie parent trapped you. 

You honestly can’t help but to laugh at the ridiculous thought. “You parent trapped us? Wheeze that’s sweet you cared enough to help us, it really is. But maybe don’t do things that put you in harm's way and give me a heart attack. I was scared when Sarah couldn’t find you and you wouldn’t answer phone calls.” Thinking back at it now she can see how messed up a plan that really is. “It was stupid. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

The rest of the day was simple. Relax around the house as Wheeze was feeling the aftershocks of drinking. Rafe had chilled with you for a little before running off to do lord knows what. But when he got back it was with a single yellow rose and your favorite chocolates. “Thought you could add it to break up the white.” He makes it seem so effortless, as if he has always done this. You don’t understand why he was so worried.

“How about a date on Saturday?” He asks, picking a chocolate to eat. “Sure what are we going to do?” There’s chocolate smeared on his teeth when he answers. “That’s for me to worry about and for you to find out. Now I’m going to go up stairs and shower. Come up and we can watch Bob Burgers or something.” He finishes off with giving you a kiss, walking out like nothing.

You watch as he leaves, a smile displayed. He remembers the small things about you. The foods you like, shows you watch, he sees you. He may not realize it yet but you do deserve him. He can do all of this without you asking, you are used to having to beg for things you want.

Needed new stuff for school beg your parents. When they say no, beg your job for more pay for just that week. First boyfriend, beg him to even notice you when it didn’t come to sex. You had to beg friends to stay in your life even after they hurt you. The last person to care about you in this way has been gone for years. Now a memory you play back to make yourself feel loved. But here he is, the playboy of Kildare, giving you that same love. 

As you make your way to his room you promise yourself one thing. You won’t give up on him, he deserves happiness just as much as you do.

The rest of the week goes similar to that day. You and Rafe would sneak off to spend time with each other. Sharing secret kisses away from prying eyes. Rafe knows that Ward is suspicious, he had made a comment at lunch the other day. “The two of you seem close again.” He stared blankly at his dad. “Just be safe.” It felt like some validation was thrown his way. It’s not like he was trying to hide you but sneaking around made it more fun.

Everyone already knew that whatever happened was water under the bridge, but it seems like you two didn’t get the notice. 

You giggle as Rafe kisses your neck, teasing your bikini straps with his fingers. “Rafe, come one we have to get back. People will start to look for us.” Your words do nothing to stop him. “Let me enjoy my girl. Screw everyone else.” His kisses travel up to your jaw. “Well really can’t screw them if you keep me here.” Rafe knows you are teasing but it rubs him the wrong way.

“You do realize that you’re mine right? Ain’t no way in hell someone else is touching you.” The possessiveness isn’t new but heightened. Since your talk they thought of the other with someone new terrorizes your minds. It’s a new feeling for you, wanting someone to be yours always. To feel a strong sense of anger when thinking of him with someone else. Your arms wrap around his neck, bringing him into a kiss. “I do. As long as you know your mine too.”

“Only yours, baby.” He mumbles on your lips, teeth biting on the lower one to suck in his mouth. “We can go back out now. You go first gotta take care of something.” He nods down to the obvious boner in his pants.  “You know I can help you with that.” You say seductively, fingers brushing against the bulge in his swim trunks. “Let’s wait till after our date tonight, please. Trying to be a gentleman here and treat you right. Plus I don’t put out on the first date.” 

You laugh as you walk away from him.  “No, you just sleep with them before you even ask them out.” You mock him. Leaving Rafe alone to fix his little, well not so little, situation. You grab water from the kitchen before walking back out to the pool. Everyone is there chatting to one another.

A part of the “new” Rafe plan was rebonding with his sisters. Sarah of course was a little wary of the plan but saw how much he actually meant it. She was brought back to when she was little and he would sneak into her room to check for monsters. The little boy who gave her so much comfort was staring at her when he apologized, owning his mistakes and wanting to correct them. Even if she wanted to say no she couldn’t. Even with all of his wrongs he's still her brother and it seems like she’s getting him back.

Wheezie on the other hand was on board once the place was told to her. Being the youngest she doesn’t have many memories with the Rafe before their mom died. The one that was happy and not as broken. She can recall some moments where he cared deeply for her at a young age, barely even an image to see. She never really had issues with him after their mom’s death. Her and Rafe become the background as Sarah was the main event. They connected in a way that they could only understand. She was just happy that Rafe wasn’t as angry as he was before. 

The downside to this plan also meant a new beginning with the pogues, which was hard to do. It took a whole day of you and Sarag convincing everyone that it could work. Which brings you to this right here, pool day. Which is also the same day as your first date. The pogues as well as Topper and Kelce are here. Everyone agreed to be civil for the day, wanting to give Rafe this chance. You don’t know why the pogues said yes but you can’t complain, only happy that they are willing to see the good side of him after all the bad.

It’s been hours of you all getting to know each other. Playing silly games such as never have I ever. It wasn’t till the clock hit four that Rafe realized he hadn’t gotten a moment with you alone. That’s when he dragged you away when no one was looking. That was almost an hour ago, the shame of it all is eating you. Cheeks blushing red as everyone’s eye’s turn to look at you.

They just carry on with conversation, not mentioning what they all knew. You're relieved as you sit down, even more when Rafe sits besides you. His arms wrapping around your shoulder so you are leaning into him. Looking around makes you happy. Rafe has been great all day, no pogue comments or rude remarks. Your friends seem to be having a good time, joking around as if this was a normal day.

The feeling continues as you get ready for your date. Your jams in the shower only improve your mood as you shave. Extending as you pick out your dress, smile so wide your cheeks hurt. You are putting on earrings when there’s a knock on your door. ��Come in.” You look in the mirror to see if there are any finishing touches needed. “Wow.” It sounds more like a breath than words. 

“You look beautiful. Maybe we should stay home instead, don’t need people seeing you like this.” He walks in the room, flowers abandoned on your dresser. “Actually nevermind, I want people to see that my girl is taken.” His hands land on your waist, arms hugging you from behind. “Your girl?Taken?” He loves when you tease him. That shit normally pisses him off, yet with you he can’t help but love it. “Yeah my girl. Always been my Sunny.”

He really hasn’t used the nickname much since you told him not to. You miss when he did. Your name doesn’t feel right coming from his lips. It sounds outrageous but it feels wrong. Even the other nicknames he gave you don’t feel the same. “I miss hearing you say that.” You lean further back to look up at him. “Calling you Sunny?” You hmm in reply. He pecks your lips, then nose, cheek, and finally ear. “I miss saying it. Glad to have my Sunny back.”

He twirls you around in his arms. Breaking away only for the two of you to leave the house. The car ride to the mysterious destination seemed to take forever, every turn just adding to the allotted time. As he drives the beach comes to view, waves crashing against the shore. The truck pulls onto a sandy road in between some trees, leading to an isolated part of the beach.

“Found this spot a couple years back. I usually come here when I want to be alone, but I thought it would be perfect for tonight.” The hand on your thigh tightens and releases the flesh. More of a way to ground himself to say that this was real, not a dream. “Why? Want to murder me where no one can see?” Your joke swayed his nerves. The nervous smile replaced with the one you’ve grown to love. “Haha, very funny. If I was going to kill you I would have done it that day on the Druthers.”

You give him a death stare, his dead tone making it seem like he thought of this before. “What? The sea would get rid of all evidence, nice and simple.” He shrugs, putting the truck in park. “Yeah I don’t like that you’ve thought of this before. Maybe I should have shared my location while I had the chance.” He chuckles, pulling you into a kiss. “Too late.” He retorts, getting out the truck to grab the last minute things from the back.

He had set things up the night before. You and Wheezie were having a movie night and he took the time to set up the place. There were fairy lights wrapped around the bare trees, the trunks illuminated by the light. A bouquet of hydrangeas, your second favorite flowers, were in a vase by two trees. It wasn’t a big space, the truck was parked on the road so it didn’t interfere with the layout. It was the perfect amount of space to be on the sand without getting splashed by the waves.

Rafe takes a few blankets out and walks over to where the vase is. You follow picking them up to set out of the way. “Those are for you. Wanted to get you something different than roses to change things up.” He explains as he lays the blankets down. “Thank you, I love them. They are actually my second favorite.” He gives you this little smirk and a wink. “I know.” Then he’s off getting the last item from the truck bed.

How much does he know about you? It’s like he has this book where he writes everything down so he won’t forget. None the less you like how he remembers the small things. It makes you feel important to him. 

You look to see him walking over to you with a basket. Raising it up, he shows the basket off to you. The other hand was holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “You didn’t have to do all of this. We could have just stayed in or got food.” He sits down next to you, placing everything on the blankets. “I wanted to do this. Saw somewhere that your actions speak louder or some shit like that.” Even when he pretends not to care he does 

“You’re really good at this.” Rafe watches you from the side of his eye as he takes out the snacks he packed. “What are you talking about?” He moves the basket once everything is laid out, reaching for a strawberry to take a bite. He brings the strawberry to your lips.You take  nibble, the sweetness of the fruit sitting on your tongue. “The whole relationship thing.” You swallow what you had in your mouth. Rafes eyes watch as your tongue chases and remnites on your lips.

“It’s just you care. You get me my favorite flowers, snacks, it makes me feel special.” “You are special.” You smile at him. “So are you. I just need you to know that I appreciate the effort you are putting in. Especially today with the pogues, it meant a lot to me.” He’s leaning on his side as he listens to your words. Soaking in the praise, relishing in the feeling it gives him. “I meant it when I said I want to change. I know they're important to you, so that makes them important to me. Plus they aren’t that bad, I guess.”

The rest of the night was filled with small talk. Taking the time to know each other better. It was easy to get in the rhythm of sharing information, knowing the other can’t judge. He tells you about every negative thing his dad has done. How he feels useless in his life, that he doesn’t know who to be if it’s not done with anger. In return, you tell him about what it was like living with your parents. The constant pressure to be perfect and bring them money. How after your grandmother died every sense of a normal childhood was taken from you. 

Rafe listens as you divulge your inner demons. Wanting to go to your house to yell at how stupid your parents are. How they should be ashamed of treating you like some cash cow. He realizes you two aren’t so different. Both had different experiences but still the same outcome. A home that never loved you. “Have they talked to you sin-” “No. They refuse to answer all of my texts.”

You are both laying on your backs, heads turned to the other. His hand closest to you grabs yours. Pulling it to his mouth he gives it a peck,resting it back down again. “Then you don’t need them. You have me and I have you. Plus my family loves you so the family part is covered. You’ll always have us.” You tear up, emotions bubbling up in you. “You can’t promise that.”

Rafe scoots closer, hugging you to his chest. “Yes I can.” It was a promise. A way of letting you know this is the long haul for him. He’s always known that you were different by the way you were with everyone. Always been drawn to you in some way, something in him not able to get enough of you. He realized that he can’t be without you during the time you ignored him. He’ll be damned if he has to go a lifetime without your love.

You start to kiss his neck, softly biting the skin with your teeth. “It’s our first date.” Your words are mumbled. “Good observation there babe.” His eyes shut, the sensation of your lips on his skin sending shivers down his spine. “You said after our date.” You remind him. His chuckle causes vibrations on your lips.

“Couldn’t even wait till we got home, just have to have me now. Hmm?” He pulls you over him, your hips slotted with his. Using your hips, he drags you back and forth over his dick. Your clit keeps catching the seam of his pants. “Such a little slut for my dick that you want to fuck me out in the open. Fucking me in the car wasn’t enough?” You moan out. No it wasn’t enough. None of him will ever be enough for you, entranced by the mere thought of him. “Never enough.” You moan again as he leans up, his lips meeting the exposed flesh on your chest. Leaving marks over your chest so he can enjoy the look of them later. “Get up.”

Your hands fly to his shoulders pushing him back. “What?” You stare down at him, trying to see if you crossed a line somehow. “We’re doing it right this time around. The first time we have sex again isn’t going to be on a deserted part of the beach. It’s going to be in my bed or yours. I really don’t care which one.” You huff at him, your breath causing some hairs to fly around. “Well maybe I don’t care about that. Maybe I want you here, right now.” 

Rafe is about to give in, only really wanting to make you happy. Willing to let go of the plan he had of showering you properly for your first date. Then you see the look in his eyes, sort of disappointed his plans are being skewed. “Okay, okay.” You say as you get up and reach a hand out. “You better drive fast or we might have to settle for the car again.”

You meant it when he said he needs to be fast. You were down the street when your hands were gripping him through his shorts. Lips peppering kisses along his neck. Rafe was relieved when he put his truck in park. Throwing to doors open and tossing you over his shoulder as he walks into the house. “Put me down silly.” He ignores you and makes his way up the stairs to his room.

You’re grateful that everyone in the house isn’t up. It’s close to twelve so most likely they are all sleeping. Rafe kicks his door open and then shut once you are in. You let out a squeal when he discards you on his bed. “Take your dress off now.” He commands, taking his shirt and shoes off. “Yes sir.”

Taking the dress off you are left in your white lingerie on display. He lets out a whistle, placing himself on top of you on the bed. “A perfect little angel.” He kisses up your stomach, stopping at your breasts to suck on them through the cups. “If only god knew what a whore you really are.” He bites one of your nipples, a shocked yelp forcing its way out of your throat. 

“Shhh. We have to be quiet, don’t want to wake them up.” Now that he thinks of it, he should have said yes when you wanted to stay on the beach. At least he would be able to hear the way you moan for him better. He pulls the cups down, nipples pebbling due to the air. 

Your hands work his pants and boxers down, leaving him naked. Next thing to go were your panties. Really they were only pushed off to the side so his fingers can touch you. You’re soaked, his fingers coated in your juices. He swirls them around, teasing your clit before pushing a finger in. A little impatient he adds another, staring as your mouth hangs open.

“There you go, beautiful. Such a good girl.” You haven’t been touched like this since that day on the Druthers. At first you were too heartbroken to do anything. Then too caught up with making up to even think about masturbating. It’s been a while and you are so wound up you could explode. With one last pump of his fingers you do, squelching noises filling the room.

“Rafe. Oh fuck, right there.” You had no time to recover when he was pushing himself in. He couldn’t wait anymore, his dick was aching to be inside you. This is probably the worst time to be so riled up. He’s been trying to make things better with you that he neglected himself. He couldn’t even think about touching himself this whole time. But now that he’s here, feeling your walls clamp around him he knows he fucked up. 

“Fuck… oh fuck.” He encases your body, his forehead on your shoulder. His arms wrap you, bringing your body closer to his as he nails dig into your back. You match his actions, nails dragging on his back, welts rising as you go. His lips can’t stay off of you, kissing any part of you he can get. Your mind is fixated on the feeling of his hips meeting yours.

Rafe’s perfectly huge dick piercing you g-spot over and over again. The two of you are just a mess of words. None of them are even audible yet you still understand the other. “God Sunny.” His fingers get deeper in your flesh, pain increasing your pleasure. “I’m not going to last long.”

Your left hand holds Rafe’s head. “Please.” His hips pick up pace, hurdling the two of you to your ends. You try to switch your positions, wanting to send him over the edge faster. “No no. Want to see your face. Need to see my pretty girl.” His moans are mixing with yours. The only thing that can be heard in the room is skin hitting skiing and your moans. “It’s okay baby. Fill me.” That was the end of him. He moans loudly as he fills you, his release triggering yours. Slowly rocking his hips to watch you awe stocks face for longer.

Rafe lays motionless on you, the orgasim of his life taking everything out of him. Your arms hold him to you, not wanting to let him go. “Shit that was amazing.” His words tickle you, air following them as they leave to dance on your skin. “Tell me about it.”

✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶

It’s been a month since your first date. When Rafe said slow he sure was not kidding. You would fool around when you can but really haven’t had the chance to fully sleep together. Every time you try he finds a reason why you shouldn’t. The furthest you got was when you gave him a blowjob and he ate you out. It’s been a whole month of tiptoeing around to not get caught.

Everyone knows now that you two are practically together. Ward is thankful that the issue is over and you have passed it. He can see Rafe changing, no more fights around the island. But more importantly no more drugs. Rafe quit after you gave him another chance, not fully at first but he got there. Ward was surprised not taking it seriously at first, as time went on he couldn’t deny it. Rafe actually was doing good for the first time in years.

The relationship between Rafe and his sisters had also improved. They spend time together without you now, not for long but they no longer argue. He even hung out with John B, JJ, and Pope alone. Everyone was shocked to see the boys all in one piece. You could say the only issue right now is once again what you and Rafe are.

You know you are exclusive. He had made that clear the night after your date. Saying how he won’t let anyone else get in the way. There was never a conversation about if you are boyfriend and girlfriend. No confirmation that you were fully together. It’s been eating away at you but you want to respect him taking things slow. Which was all fine until the party that happened tonight. 

Rafe was still selling with Barry even though he decided to spot doing drugs. He was going to the party to help push some coke and pills to all of the kooks. Instead of leaving you at home he asked you to go with. “Just come along. We can sit on some couch the whole night.” In truth he just didn’t want to be in a party setting alone. It’s one thing to stay away from drugs when he’s at home, at a party it’s different. 

If he was there by himself he would fall back into temptation. He can still feel the need to get high at times, missing the way it made him numb. Sometimes being sober is too much for him, having to take a few hits of a joint to calm the nerves. Weed and alcohol are the only things he allows himself, since he knows he can control those urges. He needs you there for moral support.

The party was in full swing when you reached the house. Rafe pushes through the house, hand in yours to guide you. He found a couch in the back easily and set up shop. Kook would come by asking for some coke, exchanging cash for a little baggy. Some would sit on the chairs next to the couch and take bumps right there. Others just take their goods and leave. 

Two hours into the party Rafe goes off to the bathroom leaving you alone. The only instructions he gave was to tell anyone who wants to buy to come back later. Which wasn’t a problem, then some guy walked up. “How much for a baggy?”

You look up from your phone to see your ex from highschool. “Ben?” He smiles at you. “Long time no see. Didn’t know that you started selling drugs.” He sits down next to you, leaving arms length of space. “No my… uh no I don’t sell.” You don’t know what to call Rafe. You wanted to say boyfriend but you aren’t really sure.

“Hey.” Rafe’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You smile at him but see that he isn’t looking at you. His eyes are trained on Ben. “Hey man. Looks like we got to wait, apparently this saint doesn’t sell.” Ben’s comment pisses Rafe off. “Well I hope not. She would take me out of business.” He’s trying to keep his cool, not wanting to lose his temper after working hard on it.

“Wait, you're the one selling?” Ben asks, he went off to college in a different state so he hasn’t been around much. He doesn't know a lot about Rafe after highschool or you for that matter. Rafe nods at the guy, tossing him a baggy and telling him the price. Ben says your name. “Do you know this guy?” You can’t get the words out since Rafe is answering for you. “Yeah she does. I’m her boyfriend.” 

You look at Rafe, eyes expressing how you feel. When you get happy there’s these golden specks that get brighter. He doesn’t even notice as he and Ben stare at each other. “Wow. Never expected this when we broke up.” The money he was handing over was snatched by Rafe. He wants to punch him in his stupid face. “Yeah well never thought you would cheat on me. I guess we just didn’t know each other.”

The anger Rafe is feeling intensifies. His eyes meet yours, as if you could read his emotions you shake your head. Instead of acting out he gathers the rest of the drugs laying out. Putting them away and grabbing your hand. “Come on baby. Let’s go home.” You try to protest. “Wait, don't you have to sell more?” “Nah go all I needed.” 

Rafe drags you out the house and into the truck. Driving to Tanny hill in silence. “Rafe?” He doesn’t say anything, only focusing on the road. His grip on the wheel is making his knuckles white. “Ray.” The new nickname surprises the two of you. He pulls into the drive-way and sits there. “Ray? That’s new.”

“I don’t know why I said it. Just you call me Sunny and a ray is associated with that. Thought it would be cute, but I don't know.” You feel a little self conscious now. “I like it.” He assures. The truck is silent after. You’re waiting for him to open up to you. “I got jealous.” There it is.

“I know.” He sighs. “You said you were my boyfriend.” He gives you this look. “Yeah no shit. I am.” He doesn’t get why that would be a problem. “You never asked.” Rafe looks at you before laughing. “Fuck I thought it was a given. Just assumed you knew I wanted you to be mine.” Now it’s your turn to laugh. “You’re such a dumbass. You need to ask a girl these things. I’ve been losing my mind over this.”

He gives you a kiss. “Will you be my girlfriend?” The words brush your lips. “Yeah I will.” You kiss him again. Not feeling his hand move around or his body shifting in a weird way. Pulling back something catches your eye. You glance down to see a ring. “What is that?” Rafe grabs your hand and puts the ring on your middle finger. “Got it the same day as the necklace. Was too scared to give it to you at first. This time around I won’t let it get to me. I promise I’m here for the long haul.”

The ring is beautiful, one of the nicest things you own now. Smiling at the boy in front of you, you realize how deep this really goes. Glad that you aren’t the only one who feels the same. “For the long haul.”

[tragedybunny]

Helloooooooooo! I saw that you were taking Astarion requests, and I’ve had something living rent free in my head for awhile nowwwww.

Basically, how would Astarion do with an s/o who is able to handle him well because of their own traumatic past? Maybe s/o came from a controlling/abusive household, so they already had to teach themself what a stable relationship looks like, and can now apply that here.

Essentially, I keep thinking about Astarion talking about how “patient” tab is with him when romantically involved, and I just keep thinking of s/o responding by saying “someone had to be patient with me too, Astarion. I learned the importance of it from that”

This has been awhile, I hope I put something together that works. Apologies for the wait. 💖

Until the World Falls Down - Astarion x F!Reader -

Love isn't always easy, but Astarion is worth having patience for.

You weren’t sure exactly where the argument came from or how it reached a boiling point at such speed. Astarion had been complaining that your house, the little house in the lower city that you loved so much because it belonged to the two of you, didn’t feel terribly secure. True, it was left empty while you traveled, looking for a way he could walk in the sunlight again, but Dammon was stone’s throw away, along with a number of the other tieflings from the Grove. When you’d been asked by the city’s rulers what you wanted in return for your heroics, a place you and him could call home was all you could think of. 

“I’m just saying we could look for something else,” he snips, pushing things further.  

There’s a rising pounding in your head, he’s giving into the paranoia. This was the inheritance passed down from Cazador, an endless fountain of ill that also included outbursts of anger, fits of melancholy, and more guilt than you could have ever imagined he was capable of. “Love,” you try your best to diffuse it, something you’ve grown well practiced with, “this is our home, I don’t want to change it.” 

He snorts, “I don’t know why I expected you to understand, you had all the safety and security in the world and ran from it.”

The words sting in a way you’re not prepared for, it’s not the first time he’s lashed out at you, but he’s never weaponized your past before. “Astarion, that…that hurts.” 

“What? It’s the truth, a pampered little noble girl who fled her sheltered life, because it was what, boring? Do you know what I would’ve given to be in your place?” 

You stare at him wide-eyed, gasping at what feels like a ruptured wound in your chest. There’s only been bits and snatches of your past he’s been able to learn, the Warlock pact making it impossible to reveal all. But it’s shattering to have that little bit he knows turned on you. Fingernails curling into the palms of your hand, you try to steady your breathing, reminding yourself he really doesn’t know everything, he can’t tell how deeply those words cut. But you’re no saint, sometimes the pain is too much. “Gods, you really don’t care if you hurt me, do you?” All you’ve ever asked of him is love, and you die a little inside when he can’t seem to give it, even if you know why. “I need some air,” turning you stalk away from him and your little kitchen you adore, where tea sits now growing cold, towards your front door, tears blossoming that you fight, and memories you've locked away pushing to the front of your mind. 

Maybe it’s your words, maybe it’s the hard reality of your hand pulling the door open, but behind you, Astarion quietly exclaims,“no.” He sounds far away though, sounds and shapes from another time clouding your senses. 

Beyond your threshold, Baldur's Gate bustles in the early dawn light, but you only see bleak halls, filled with looming dread, and hear the whispers of the House of Air and Darkness. Push past it, you tell yourself, one foot crossing into the warm light. You're running, maybe that's what you're good at, maybe he's right, you run when you shouldn’t. Another breath, you're standing just outside the door. The noise of the city starts to pull you out of the past. 

A hand grabs at your’s. “Don’t leave m-” his words end in a hiss of pain.

Shaking your head, you finish pushing back at the past to find Astarion’s hand clutching yours, starting to smolder in the sun. “Astarion, stop.” 

“No, what if you don’t come back?” He’s frantic, tugging you back toward the shelter of the darkness inside the door. The scent of his flesh starting to singe fills your nostrils. The churning maelstrom of emotions hasn’t calmed enough, leaving you rooted where you stand. “Damn it,” grimacing, he takes a step forward, towards you, towards the light. 

As though you’d been under a slow spell that finally releases you, there’s understanding, and you lunge toward him, pushing him back into the safety of your home, door slamming in your wake. Arms wrap around him as he clings to you, he’s quivering. Sinking to the floor, the sounds of rough sobbing start to escape from him. “I’m sorry Love,” you whisper, trying your best to soothe him, while your own mind recovers.  

Words tumble out between fits of crying. “Not your…sorry…don’t know why…didn’t mean that…don’t leave me.” 

“Hush, Sweetheart, I promise I’m not going anywhere.” It aches inside, you didn’t mean to frighten him. 

With gentle words and touches, you try to calm him until he finally stills in your arms. “Why?” 

“What?”

“Why aren’t you leaving? Why do you stay? I’m a monster, no better than Cazador, turning your words back on you to torture you.” There’s no tears, but you realize it’s only because he’s too tired to keep crying. 

“You are not a monster Astarion, your emotions get the better of you sometimes.” Leaning down, you kiss the crown of his head, his forehead, his cheek, anywhere you can get. “I know you’re trying.” 

“How can you be so patient with me?” His hand searches out yours. 

Once, you lived in a world where only power mattered, where your parents would’ve given you to a monster to secure their place. But you were shown a better way. “Someone was patient with me too once. She showed me how to love, I think she saved my life.” You stop there, knowing the price for saying more. 

Astarion doesn’t ask either, understanding you can’t. “I can do better,” he promises earnestly.

“I know you will, but you’re still healing. And I’m sorry I let it get to me.” 

“No,” quickly, he sits, eyes locked onto yours, “you have feelings too, and it’s not fair for me to hurt you just because I hurt. I will do better, you deserve better from me, after everything you’ve done.”

You look at him, a teary wreck, and realizing you’re probably not much better yourself, lose yourself to an unexpected giggle. "Gods, we're a mess. I love you." 

"Speak for yourself, I'm perfection." he laughs, laying his head back on your shoulder. "I love you too, more than anything."

[fairyminnie444]

when i persist i always get thoughts like "what if my desires stay in imagination ans never externalize?", "if i do this in a certain way then i won't get my desire", etc, thoughts like those and they always seem so important and like if i don't give it real thought then my desires won't manifest. and there's always more thoughts like those that come to mind. any advice?

I have the same thoughts, sometimes even more, like "I need to do something to manifest and I can't stay still because if I don't I won't receive it or I don't deserve it”

This is the logical part of the brain wanting to shape us, so first we remember it’s normal, its part of process so we shift focus to what we already know and what is actually true. How?

1.Understand the Nature of These Thoughts

• These doubts are not the truth—they’re simply old mental patterns trying to protect you from disappointment.

• They’re a sign that your subconscious is working through resistance. This is a good thing because it means you’re challenging limiting beliefs.

2. Don’t Fight the Thoughts

• When you resist or argue with these thoughts, you give them more energy.

• Instead, acknowledge them and let them pass. For example, say to yourself:

• “This is just a thought. It has no power unless I give it power.”

• “I see you, but I choose to focus on what I want.”

imagine the sky and these thoughts are like clouds passing by, they don’t mean nothing cause u don’t agree with that and u don’t believe in that.

3. Redirect Your Focus

• When a doubtful thought arises, gently shift your focus back to your desired state:

• “Even if this thought exists, I know my desire is already mine.”

• “I trust the process, regardless of what my mind tries to tell me.”

4. Reframe the Fears

Let’s address the specific fears you mentioned:

• “What if my desires stay in imagination and never externalize?”

• Reframe: “Imagination is the foundation of reality. If I can imagine it, it’s already on its way to me.”

• Neville Goddard teaches that imagination creates reality—the 3D always catches up to your inner state.

• “If I do this in a certain way, I won’t get my desire.”

• Reframe: “There’s no wrong way to align with my desire. My persistence guarantees my success.”

• Remember: it’s not about perfection; it’s about your dominant state of being.

5. Use Affirmations to Neutralize Doubts

Affirmations help override negative patterns. Use ones like:

• “Doubt is powerless; my imagination is the true reality.”

• “My desires are inevitable, no matter what my thoughts say.”

• “I trust the process of creation completely.”

6. Practice SATS or Relaxation Techniques

When doubts feel overwhelming, use Neville’s State Akin to Sleep (SATS) or relaxation to anchor yourself in your desired state:

1. Lie down in a relaxed state, close your eyes, and visualize your desire as if it’s already done.

2. Feel the emotions of already having it.

3. Let this state soothe any doubts.

The more you practice SATS or similar techniques, the less attention your mind will give to intrusive thoughts. It's a process and the more you do it and the more natural it is for you, the less you will have these thoughts.

7. Remind Yourself of This Truth

Your dominant feeling and belief determine your manifestation—not every passing thought. Intrusive doubts don’t have the power to stop your desire unless you dwell on them and make them dominant.

Summary:

• Acknowledge the doubtful thoughts without fighting them.

• Redirect your focus to your desired state.

• Reframe fears into empowering truths.

• Use affirmations and SATS to anchor your belief.

You don’t need to figure everything out or get it perfect. As long as you persist in the feeling of your wish fulfilled, the 3D will catch up. Trust yourself—you’re on the right path.

Ps *mostly important*: Don't overwhelm yourself, don't do anything that seems forced or false, if it's a moment of very intrusive thinking remember: NEUTRAL STATE before affirming. Take your time, there’s no rush it will come for you.

There is nothing that can stop you from receiving what you want if you believe you already have it.

[kipkoh]

I really wish we had gotten more hints about Vee and Camila’s lives together before "Yesterday’s Lie". I know it’s heavily implied that Camila easily assumed Vee was actually Luz because she was acting “weird” at first, but there had to be some instances where it started to get to be too much, right? And especially after "Luz" came back from camp. Like, as attentive as a mother Camila was, I highly doubt there were never times when she questioned her reality and wondered if camp could possibly have changed a person that much.

Obviously, it would be far fetched to assume your daughter was replaced by a shape-shifting basilisk, but Camila definitely had to have noticed something was off. We do see a hint of this at the beginning of "Yesterday's Lie" when Camila looks somewhat distraught or perhaps confused when Vee mentions that camp taught her a lot after tossing out a bunch of Luz's things, but I want to know the full extent of Camila's feelings about Vee. How did she rationalize the change in behavior? Did she really just chalk it all up to camp or did she ever wonder if something more could be happening? If she did chalk it all up to camp, then I wonder if she ever felt regret at sending Luz. We know she didn't really want to send Luz initially, but imagine forcing your kid to go to camp only for them to come back lacking any ounce of the personality that made them them. Camila must have been so conflicted. On the one hand, her daughter suddenly morphed into a "responsible" person, but on the other hand she's been stripped of all the unique quirks that Camila was used to seeing and inwardly loved. Her daughter might as well be a stranger now. (We know she is, but, like, metaphorically speaking.)

I wonder if maybe that's part of why Camila was so accepting towards Vee upon immediately finding out she wasn't really her daughter. Obviously Camila was beyond terrified to find out Luz was trapped in the demon realm, but maybe there was still just a hint of relief at the fact that Luz was still Luz and camp, and by extension Camila, really hadn't destroyed every hint of her personality.

And on Vee's end, we know she resented Luz and might not have felt bad overall for taking her place, but did she ever feel guilty for lying to Camila? Camila became her mom and it was the first safe-haven Vee had ever felt, but the catharsis of feeling loved by Camila might have been just out of reach since Camila's love wasn't being directed at her, but rather who she thought she was. Was she really content with living someone else's life, especially out of survival? Clearly Vee would be too scared to actually come clean to Camila, but did she ever run through scenarios in her mind just to imagine a world where Camila loved her instead? Were there ever times when Camila would call her "Luz" and she'd hesitate for just a split second on whether she should tell the truth? And especially after Yesterday's Lie - did she ever feel extra guilty knowing she could have told Camila the truth she deserved immediately and still might have been allowed to stay regardless? Camila could have learned weeks ago that Luz was in the demon realm but because Vee never spoke up, she only learned when it was too late, and so did that ever weigh heavily on Vee's mind?

Vee and Camila's relationship was definitely one that had so much potential for exploration, but we just barely get to see any of it. I'm happy Vee was so easily accepted into the family, but in a world where TOH was allowed the time to tell a fuller story, I would have loved to see more of their thoughts and feelings regarding the whole situation and Vee's escaped basilisk to beloved daughter pipeline.

[vii0so]

[BSD 120] Theory/Analysis

These are my first thoughts on parts of chapter 120. It includes my personal interpretations and theories of certain things.

Warning: Spoilers ahead

█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

1. Akutagawa & "True strength"

In my previous theory, I believed Rashoumon was in control of Aku's body (hence the old speech and clothing choice).

In BSD, abilities are the soul. "True strength" and "within yourself" could point to Rashoumon.

It could be that Akutagawa has inherited the purpose of his ability (Rashoumon). Therefore unlocking its full potential and or memories. Hence the drastic change that Atsushi sees.

The "purpose" stuff was another thing I briefly mentioned in my previous theory. In short: Purpose = job (e.g. the bookmark)

"This blade serves the heavens"

This blade = "I" (Akutagawa/Rashoumon)

The heavens = probably "the book"

"This soul follows the path of righteousness"

This soul = Rashoumon

This would mean: Rashoumon is righteous.

"The path of the knight"

Knight = Protector/Defender

This could mean Rashoumon is the book's protector.

So his purpose could be the book's "Knight", just like Atsushi is the book's "Bookmark".

If we want to say it in book terms, it'd be the book's cover.

─────────────✧

"Idea. Will. All are empty."

This is directed at Akutagawa. Saying that he has no individual thoughts or will, he is just an empty shell.

I believe this can be seen as saying "You're a puppet."

This could mean that the current Akutagawa is like this because his role as the "knight" is needed (A god-level threat to the book has appeared and needs to be dealt with).

Meaning, it could very well be his soul's (Rashoumon's) purpose (the knight) has taken control. Making him a puppet with the only thing moving him being his purpose.

─────────────✧

███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

2. The higher dimension

First off: If we think of the real world where we are, then the BSD universe would be a "lower dimension" to us.

In BSD, the book can change/shape their world and therefore is part of the "higher dimension"

Basically, anything that doesn't follow the law of abilities and/or our everyday normal earth standards, can be considered as a higher dimensional being/thing.

As Fyodor explained: Stabbing a page will "kill" the character drawn on it. No matter how OP they are, they will never be able to perceive our dimension (reality) and therefore will not be able to stop it.

To make it easier: An author can write a story where the mc faces an enemy and dies. The author controlled the story/fate of the mc. The mc would never be able to stop that from happening.

...Actually this example would be closer to what the book does...they are a similar plane of existence but not the same. Fyodor's example is better for Ame-no-Gozen though.

─────────────✧

Let's think of it the other way around to better explain:

In short: if you were to write/draw a character, that character would never directly be able to harm you or interact with you. That's because we're in a higher dimensional plane of existence.

Stories may just be fiction to us but to the characters they are real, just like life for us is real.

When a character becomes aware that there is a higher dimension/they are in a story, they still can't physically/directly interact with our world. The most they can do, is "break the 4th wall" and indirectly interact with the audience (e.g. talking to/looking at the camera/us).

─────────────✧

Random:

The book is a higher plane of existence than anything in the BSD universe. Hence why anything written in it becomes the truth.

Ame-no-Gozen is a lower dimension than the book.

Therefore, if someone wrote Ame-no-Gozen out of existence in the book, it would be considered true and he'd be gone.

─────────────✧

█████▒▒▒▒▒

3. Fyodor's Plane

This entire "plane to board" thing has had me worried since the previous chapter.

I know they want us to think of this:

But it still feels odd. He gets on that, becomes undetectable. Is that what he's really planning to do though?

He says it's not his concern (whether they live or die) but it seems like a definite lie. In one way or another, it matters.

He seems to be in a hurry. It doesn't seem fake, in actuality it seems like he's trying to hide how urgently he needs to leave.

He completely dropped the whole "Dazai wasn't it so I'll just take Atsushi" and switched to "I don't care whether any of you die".

Honestly, he probably decided to drop the "other half" stuff when he realised Atsushi didn't have the same thoughts as the tiger.

And the "idc what happens to you lol" is more like "I need to leave quickly so let's stop here" which shows urgency.

Which means, Fyodor has somewhere to be...and fast.

Okay, this next theory is a long shot even for me, but what if he needs to get to Sigma before he wakes up?

Don't ask me why, I'm not sure. But it sure is something to think about. It's time-sensitive and we're aware that Sigma hasn't woken up yet. It seems to fall into place with the urgency.

─────────────✧

███████▒▒▒

4. Fukuzawa's Survival

This seems like a challenge to battle but Fukuzawa knew there was no way of fighting Ame-no-Gozen. So who is he challenging?

Fyodor.

Yep, Fukuzawa will fight Fyodor...

All the people (including me) that believed Fukuzawa will die at some point in the story, might be right after this battle.

Why does he say it like that?

And why does he look like he hesitated?

I checked the Japanese and it's: 特には (toku-ni-ha)

Which means:

Note: The "ha" (pronounced "wa") is a particle.

Fyodor, what do you mean?! Is it that you care about his survival "in particular" or "not particularly"? (...I should just leave this to those who are fluent in Japanese. I'm overcomplicating stuff again.)

Anyway, I feel like there's more to this than what we're seeing (Or maybe I just forgot something...)

─────────────✧

5. Where's Rampo?

...no, seriously, where is he during all this?

He's probably doing stuff in the background to help fix this situation but we haven't even seen a glimpse of him since Fyodor came back.

Maybe we'll see him during the Fyodor vs Fukuzawa fight.

─────────────✧

██████████ Completed!

TLDR:

Akutagawa is basically Rashoumon right now.

Akutagawa is the book's "cover" (protector/knight)

Higher & lower dimension = Pretty much the same difference between us and any character in BSD.

Fyodor may need to get to Sigma before he wakes up. Hence the urgency to leave the fight.

Fukuzawa might die fighting Fyodor.

[howlyourmelancholy]

Dream Baby Dream

summary: in which dreams become a reality.

warnings: jamie is being a dominant little shithead, which we love. dirty talk. little bit of rough sex. NSFW.

words: 669.

notes: i would say that i'm sorry but honestly i'm not. consider this a direct follow on from 'dreaming of you'. i hope enjoy another little smutty blurb for james.

I had a dream about you, actually.

At the time, you regretted uttering those words. Sirius had given you shit for days, constantly poking and joking about the true nature of your dream. He’d insisted that it hadn’t been about penguins, or if it was, it was because the bedsheets or your knickers had cute cartoon penguins on them. After a few days and several stern warnings, he finally let the matter go.

James, however, had not. He’d pestered you for hours and days until you finally snapped, yelling the truth at him, after omitting a few details, of course. All you told him was that the two of you had had sex in a classroom.

Nothing more, nothing less.

That had been mistake number two, because the next thing you knew, he was grinning at you with that lazy smirk he always had. And you'd looked at him with suspicion and not believed him at all when he'd told you not to worry about it, that it would be your little secret with him.

But now?

Now you don't regret a damn thing.

James had bent you over Slughorn's desk so that you were facing the door. He had one hand fisted in your hair, the other grabbing you cruelly by the hip. Your skirt was rucked up around your waist, and your knickers were pulled aside, the elastic band of them digging into the flesh of your hips.

Unlike in your fantasy, James wasn’t trying to keep you quiet. He was doing quite the opposite. James had made it his mission to make you moan as loudly as possible every time you clapped a hand over your mouth or bit your knuckles to muffle your cries. The drag of his cock was mind-numbing. He had your eyes rolling back and your toes curling with each thrust, the mushroom head of his cock crashing into a spot that had the air leaving your lungs in little gasps.

Your nipples scraped beautifully on the table, only adding to the sensation overload, making your core gush around his cock as he rearranged your guts. "Come on, baby," James whispered against the nape of your neck with a hot breath. His lips practically melted into your skin, sending wisps of fire licking through your veins as he trails kisses down your spine.

The sound of his voice made you whimper and had you trembling beneath him as he tugged on your hair. The feeling of his cock in your gummy walls was holding you on the verge of oblivion. He was the only thing keeping you from tumbling over the edge, and you both knew it. "Wanna hear those pretty sounds," he muttered against your sweat-slicked skin, his tongue chasing a droplet down your shoulder blade as you pushed back to meet the piston of his hips.

You couldn’t find your voice around your knuckles. You knew your skin was going to be bruised in the shape of your teeth, bitten blue and purple beneath his relentless assault. You were terrified someone would hear you, that they’d walk in and see James Potter splitting you open and how much you loved it, but the thought of him stopping was physically painful.

"S’close," you managed to gasp as you dropped your hand back to the desk. You curled your fingers around the edge of it, your nails digging against the underside. Hearing this, he snaked his arm around you, his fingertips finding your clit to draw tight circles.

"You gonna cum? My whore's so fucking greedy; go on then," he said, his tone mocking as he pulled your hair, forcing your head up and making you stare at the door. He thrust deeper until you were sure he was in your throat, pushing you into the desk until your hips were bruised too. "Just be a good girl and let me hear those pretty little moans. I want the whole school to know who's fucking you, so go ahead and scream my name, baby."

[reality-detective]

Wake Up! Everything You Believe Is a Carefully Crafted Lie by a Hidden Elite That Owns Your Governments, Banks, and Minds!

The world is under the control of a hidden, powerful elite that has manipulated humanity for thousands of years. Governments, banks, corporations, and even religions are all part of a massive, interconnected system designed to keep the masses in line. You are living in a controlled simulation where every move is calculated, every narrative crafted, and every dissent crushed.

Ancient Rome never fell; it just changed its face. The Vatican is the continuation of the Roman Empire, pulling the strings of global power from the shadows. The Pope is not a religious leader but the CEO of the world’s largest covert operation. Global leaders bow to Rome; every major decision made in Europe, America, and beyond has its roots in this ancient power structure. The so-called “democracies” are just fronts, and the real rulers operate far from the public eye.

The financial system is a tool of enslavement, but its grip is weakening. Central banks, the Federal Reserve, the World Bank, and the IMF have long kept nations in debt and citizens in economic chains. However, their reign is about to end. The Global Economic Security and Reformation Act (GESARA) is poised to trigger the biggest wealth transfer in history, redistributing stolen wealth back to the people.

This is a total overhaul designed to dismantle the corrupt systems that have enslaved humanity for centuries. Trillions of dollars hoarded by the elite will be seized and returned to the people, restoring economic power where it belongs.

This act will expose the financial fraud perpetuated by these institutions, wiping out debts and releasing new technologies that have been suppressed to keep the populace in poverty. The days of the financial overlords are numbered, and GESARA is the catalyst that will break their chains for good, restoring wealth and freedom to the masses.

Education and media are the propaganda arms of this hidden empire. From kindergarten to university, you are fed lies designed to shape your worldview to fit the agenda of the elite. Critical thinking is discouraged because an informed population is a threat. The news you watch, the books you read, and the information you consume are all curated to keep you ignorant, divided, and powerless.

Governments are puppets. Elections are rigged shows to give you the illusion of choice. Presidents, prime ministers, and kings answer to the same hidden masters. Policies, wars, economic collapses—they’re all orchestrated from behind closed doors by a small group of individuals who have no allegiance to any nation but only to their own interests. They decide who wins, who loses, and how the game is played.

Laws are tools of oppression, not justice. The legal system is designed to protect the elite and keep you in line. Roman law still influences modern legal codes, and its principles are used to maintain control over the masses. The courtrooms are theaters where the outcome is predetermined, and the real power lies in the unseen hands that pull the strings.

Corporations are not independent entities—they are branches of the same control network. They push products, policies, and narratives that serve their masters’ agenda. From the food you eat to the technology you use, everything is designed to monitor, influence, and control you. You are not a customer; you are a data point, a resource to be exploited.

The world is not what it seems. Every institution you trust, every leader you admire, every belief you hold has been carefully constructed to keep you obedient and blind to the truth. You are not free; you are a pawn in a game that was rigged long before you were born.

The only way out is to see the truth: that the world is run by a small, powerful group that considers itself above the rest of humanity. They are the masters, and we are the slaves. This is the reality they don’t want you to see. Wake up, or remain a willing participant in your own enslavement.

Escape the Matrix 🤔

[tbhimnoteasyonmyself]

Oh~~ The Spaces Between Us~~

I had many thoughts watching ep.11 and absorbing how great it fucking was but one scene caught my attention.

This one right here:

I've noticed @almayver talking about the one between Tattoo and Jack but not the other one, the one between Save and Hope. I wanna address both.

1) The Space Between Tattoo and Jack

I think it's easier to notice in other shots but I like that it's subtle. Nothing draws attention to that space. It's easy to miss it. Or rather, miss its significance.

But when you see it through the shot I picked you can tell it's important.

See: everyone is right next to their love interest.

Hope is next to Save. Arun is next to Tattoo (they aren't a couple as far as we know but the romantic tension is kinda undeniable, we're all aware).

Hoi and Jack are the odd ones out. And it's important that they're paired together because they mirror each other.

Hoi's presumed love interest is Nang (even if I don't think they'll explore it much more than that one joke they made). He can't be next to her because she's not there. Alternatively, if you disagree with this, he just doesn't have one.

But that's okay. Hoi's at one of the ends of the half circle. Meaning, whoever isn't there is not missing. That person is just either out of frame (a.k.a not part of this scene) or not necessary for Hoi.

Jack on the other hand, has an empty space next to him. There should be someone there. But there isn't. There's a vacancy, someone's missing. Joke's missing.

And the themes of this group conversation circle a lot around that.

Hoi mentions how he misses Joke. Tattoo says they can't steal the ring back without Joke.

Jack and his pride never say the words but the scene shows it clear as water: Jack misses Joke too.

Of course, that's nothing we didn't already know, but I enjoy good framing and good spacial storytelling. I think we all do.

2) The Space Between Hope and Save

Fear not, HopeSave enthusiasts, I don't think this is about their relationship, they're far too crazy about each other to break up, you can calm down.

I do however think this is about Hope specifically. Why? Because no one fucking likes Hope.

Hope beat them mercilessly and with a smile on his face and, sure, he's right when he says they were all forced to do terrible things by Boss but Jack's the living proof there are choices no matter what. And you can be a better person even when you're forced to be terrible.

So this space? This space is the devide.

Notice, first of all, how the shape of the brick walls seems to create a wall of its own between Save and Hope. It's a clear devide between Hope and the rest of them.

Then, notice how everyone, even Jack and Tattoo who have Joke's empty space between them, seem, from the angle of that shot (which is the introductory one for this scene), to be touching.

They're all connected with each other, they're all a group.

Only Hope isn't touching anyone, only he doesn't belong there, never did. Which is ironic if you think he's always been from around there and Arun hasn't but, because of the choices they made, Arun fits in and Hope doesn't.

And the cherry on top? Hope is also at the end of the circle. And it's not because there's someone out of frame that just isn't there but rather because there isn't.

The only thing by his other side is his own shadow, which, by the way he seems to be the only one to have.

So it's safe to say: Hope doesn't have anyone else. Only Save.

Hope can talk all he wants about how they grew up with him saving Save from fights, but the truth is that, in reality, it's Save who's always saved him. Save is Hope's lifeline.

I guess that was all.

Cheers! <3

[l00rem]

Oh naaaaw they really went and gave him double daddy issues 💀💀

But Gibeon looks quite different to Amethio despite only being his grandad… when you compare liko and diana to amethio and gibeon it’s strange considering liko and diana resemble eachother so closely. Gibeon is more pink than purple and his hair is stylised completely differently, the outer pupil bit is shaped more triangular whilst amethio’s is just round. Also, looking even closer at gibeons eyes he has a white shine to it whilst amethio’s don’t, so has amethio actually had those depressed empty anime eyes the entire time but due to his white pupils we couldn’t tell until now? Maybe i’m just overthinking things 

It’s really interesting to me how differently amethio addresses his respective familial connections. He seems to really respect Gibeon, calling him ojji-sama, meanwhile he calls his dad chichi which is generally more neutral. He seems to be trying to distance himself from who is father was too which reeks of sooo much indoctrination someone please save his poor soul. I can see quite of few explanations for his lack of connection with his father; his father potentially learned of some dark truth and left but couldn’t take amethio for some reason, his father is dead but gibeon covered it up, or amethio never actually knew his father but was told about how he abandoned explorers once he joined. I wonder if Amethio tells himself that his feelings of bitterness towards his father are because he betrayed explorers, when in reality it’s because he’s the one who feels betrayed. 

Clearly there’s some reason amethio seems to have such strong loyalty towards Gibeon. They obviously don’t have a traditional bond, with Gibeon even remarking that it’s been awhile since they met like this which perhaps implies it’s been over a year since they met face to face, and yet amethio regards him so highly. And surprise surprise, the only time he cares to see his grandson face to face is when he’s asking him to continue serving his wishes, really selling himself as grandad of the year here.

This line particularly intrigues me and supports a hc i’ve been holding for awhile which is that amethio and gibeons blood line are descended from royalty of sorts. Perhaps then he intended to make rakua his kingdom, but that would mean destroying it in order to control it which lead to his subsequent falling out with Lucius. 

The way he phrases this is also really interesting to me- because it subverts the usual expected ‘heir to the throne’ and instead Gibeon just says heir of his blood. Which makes sense given that Gibeon seems to be intending to live forever, so he wants to keep playing as king for all eternity. So amethio is just a means to an end, someone to do all the hard work for achieving gibeons dreams and yet reviving little from it himself. 

I doubt this’ll happen but i’m gonna say it just to put it on the record- I wonder if we could potentially see this gibeon/amethio ancestor on the throne in the upcoming legends Z game? Considering Gibeon’s partner being a Zygarde and Kalos’s themes of royalty, potentially we could see the ruler that Gibeon is trying to emulate. Apart from new pokemon forms i don’t think the games have ever taken something from the anime before, but i think it’d make an interesting twist if they went that direction!

It’s pretty upsetting to see how heavily manipulated and indoctrinated Amethio is into explorers. I don’t have any doubts for his eventual redemption arc despite his yearning for power, but seeing how strong of a chokehold gibeon has on him it does make me wonder what’ll actually trigger it.  A lot of people compare amethio to zuko, but for zuko he could see physical evidence of how horrible the fire nation was through going around the world and having uncle iroh to guide him whereas amethio doesn’t really have either of those (zir and conia support him, but they’re not really angels on his shoulder). Either he’ll discover a darker secret somehow and turn against them (potentially the same as his father) or maybe through his development with the rvts he’ll grow to realise how horrible explorers has treated him? (something about chosen family vs biological family). Regardless of how it happens, I just hope Amethio can be happy by the end of all of this. Maybe if we’re lucky we’ll actually see him smile in a year or so.