#but in this draft it was more of a direct rejection

[loves4yukio]

Unspoken Desires

Negan x F!Reader

Summary : You consistently rejected Negan's romantic advances because you didn't wish to become another one of his conquests. You avoid him as much as you could, but things became more intricate when he revealed his sole interest in you and no one else.

Warnings (18+) : SMUT, age gap (you are in your 20's and Negan is in his mid-late 40's), swearing, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!Negan, secret relationship, no use of y/n, mentions of sex (?) — I'm not sure what to put, so if you have any advice, I'll take it.

Word count : 5k6

You endured what felt like the most draining day of your existence. Your time outdoors alongside Simon, engaging in a lengthy run, exceeded the usual duration, leads you to return later than anticipated to the Sanctuary — where you seek solace in the privacy of your bedroom. Shedding your work attire, you exchanged it for the comfort of shorts and a cozy sweater, an outfit suited for rest. Seated at your desk, you embarked upon the task of drafting the expedition report, as mandated by Negan.

You toil in silence, engrossed in the task, driven by your yearning to assimilate into the community and meet Negan's expectations. When you're at last content with the outcome, you glance up from your desk, eyeing the time displayed on the clock. 'It's getting late, I need a break,' you muse. The alluring temptation of watching a movie, an idea often suggested by Negan, tempted you irresistibly.

As a recent addition to the Saviors, you had caught Negan's profound interest, the reasons for which remained a mystery to you. On numerous occasions, you found his intense gaze fixed upon you, his signature smile accompanying his playful, suggestive banter. The effect it had on you was undeniable, stirring an internal storm you couldn't easily dismiss.

Occasionally, you yielded to his allure, but it always left you in self-reproach, retreating into seclusion and creating distance. Negan always persisted, unwilling to swiftly relinquish his grasp on you. He was resolute, refusing to let you go to another.

Negan was known for his ladies' man side. He already had six wives by his side. Negan being Negan, he had proposed you become one of them, but you persistently declined, knowing it wouldn’t bring you joy. Yet, here you found yourself, part of his inner circle and laboring under his directives. This didn't deter him from the amusement of seducing you, sending your senses spinning — a pleasure he relished, especially the moments when you'd bite your lip each time he whispered something dirty in your ear.

Satisfied with the task's completion, you left your chambers, strolling silently through the corridor of the floor designated for Negan and his wives. You had the liberty to wander there at will, given your residence on that floor — Negan had made it clear that the floor was as much your abode as his and his wives'.

As you lingered in the room's alcove, the soft hum of the television reached your ears. Despite the dimness, the silhouettes on the couch were distinguishable. For a fleeting moment, you observed Negan and a few of his wives holding each other tenderly, their forms intertwined in a embrace.

This simple yet profound sight stirred a tumult of emotions within you. While relieved not to be entangled in Negan's romantic affairs, you couldn't stifle the growing pangs of jealousy. Negan embodied the epitome of your ideal man : handsome, funny, sociable and seemingly damn good at sex. Some nights, the sounds of their cries of pleasures echoed through the corridors upstairs, teasing a tale of their intimate rendezvous.

With the utmost care, you glided across the floor, your steps hushed to avoid disrupting their tranquility. Neither of them caught a glimpse of your passing silhouette ; such was your stealth. Arriving in the kitchen, you prepared a light snack, allowing the gentle whir of the refrigerator to fill the space.

Within the serene hush of the living room, where the dimmed lights cast the room in a veil of darkness, an aged cowboy movie flickered on the screen. Negan slumped on the generous couch, a soft sigh escaping him as Frankie sought solace against his shoulder. A fleeting moment of quiet ensued until one of them decided to shatter the silence.

“Has she returned from work ?” Sherry inquired on your behalf, arching an eyebrow, her attention diverted from the movie flickering on the television.

Shifting his gaze toward her, Negan emitted a noncommittal sound, almost an 'I dunno,' just before ensnaring her in a kiss filled with such fervor that it deterred her from pursuing the topic. Using it as a diversion, he let his hand slide down her back, the touch lingering on the black fabric of her dress, seeking more intimate contact.

“I'll be back, I'll fetch us some snacks. I'm feeling a bit peckish,” Amber murmured, beginning to withdraw from the group. However, Negan's hand swiftly seized her thigh, wordlessly commanding her to remain where she was.

“You're not fucking going anywhere, darling. I've got this covered, ladies,” Negan declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a final surreptitious kiss, seizing Frankie's jaw for a change, he rose to make his way towards the kitchen, where he finds you. Unnoticed by you, he seized the chance to gaze at you, slyly running his tongue over his lips.

Deep in thought, you positioned the containers on the kitchen counter. When you eventually faced him, you briefly glanced away, continuing your preparations ; as if focusing on the task could banish the persistent memories clouding your mind. Negan picked up on your deliberate actions, earning one of his trademark, smug smiles.

“How long have you been here, sweetheart ?” His question sliced through the air, his tone betraying no notice of the tension that crept into your body upon hearing his voice.

“Not too long. I just came down,” you responded, daring to meet his gaze once more.

Observing him move around the central cabinet, selecting a variety of nuts to fill a small dish, he paused in his desire to approach the refrigerator, positioning himself behind you. He pressed your form gently against the counter, allowing his weight to meld with yours. His warm breath danced across the curve of your neck as his lips drew close to your ear.

“Aren't you joining us ?” he inquired, planting tender kisses against your soft skin, echoing a familiarity from moments when you were alone.

Your gaze remained evasive, yet inwardly, you pondered the wisdom of joining them in the living room. The situation was already taut with tension, and you hesitated to further complicate matters. On one hand, the desire to spend time with them lingered, but on the other, an apprehension loomed — an uncertainty of what might unfold, beyond your control.

“I'm not sure that's wise, Negan,” you murmured softly, breathlessly.

“Smart enough to handle it, darlin',” Negan replied with a sly smirk, dismissing your concern.

He remained silent, his hazel eyes fixed upon you in quiet contemplation. Your body tingled under his fleeting touch, heightening the feverish sensation as he grazed against you. Carefully tearing open a bag of chips, you delicately poured a portion into a bowl, then turned to present it to him.

“Here. I wouldn't want you to miss the movie because of me,” you said, offering an innocent smile.

The warmth and tenderness of your presence felt soothing, as though it seamlessly melded with his, an indelible union. With each step, he sought to intoxicate himself within this fleeting moment, wishing it could linger a little longer. Ceasing the intimate connection by turning towards him brought a sense of discomfort to Negan, especially when he was reveling in the closeness.

His hands mirrored your actions as you turned to face him, his countenance etched with seriousness, his unwavering gaze fixed upon you. Lifting the bowl of chips you'd prepared, he wordlessly returned it to the counter, observing you as if something unusual was unfolding. His scrutiny delved deep, as though attempting to decipher the depths of your soul.

“Then go to your room,” his words sliced the air, unexpectedly severe, nearly cutting.

His stare posed a challenge, urging you to venture beyond the ordinary. It was no longer just about the movie, and you were acutely aware of this shift. He was testing you.

Your brow arched in response to his intense scrutiny, granting him permission to draw nearer. You felt defenseless, adrift, and utterly powerless. His husky voice only added to your sense of unease. It was absurd how effortlessly you seemed to be losing your self-possession, akin to a fragile leaf that could be easily crumpled in his grasp. The very notion made your heart race within your chest.

Enveloped by the weight of his penetrating gaze, you hesitated to even reach out to touch him. You found yourself silently studying him, attempting to decipher the cryptic undertone of his words. Tilting your head ever so slightly, you cast a swift, cautious glance around, ensuring no prying eyes were upon you, before returning your focus to him.

He stood before you, a commanding presence, his unwavering, intense gaze fixed upon you. Was it even your place to be standing alongside them ? You blinked, releasing a breath as you succumbed to the overwhelming closeness. It might have appeared peculiar, perhaps even self-centered, but you would have preferred if his wives were absent. It could have been the attraction you felt toward Negan… or for some undisclosed reason.

“Must I, really ?” you blurted in a voice barely louder than a whisper, surrendering to the game. “Seems to me like you're eager for my company. Don't you ?”

“Oh, you think so, huh ? You don't have a damn clue about the game you're playing, sweetheart.”

His lips, once momentarily dry, became moistened by a subtle lick, accentuating his wolfish grin. Your hips were gently pressed against the counter's edge, his eyes traversing your form, observing your casual attire. Despite the room's darkness, his gaze fixated upon you, brimming with unwavering attention.

Within moments, you leaned against the nearby furniture, settling there while maintaining an unbroken gaze with him. Negan briefly scanned the kitchen's entrance before redirecting his focus back to you. Ensnared under his intense scrutiny, you found yourself entranced, incapable of averting your eyes from the fervor of his. Each step he took toward you sent shivers down your spine, accelerating the rhythm of your heart. Your breaths grew shallower, the atmosphere thick with an electric charge.

“Don't start something that you can't finish,” he moved a step nearer.

“Who said I couldn't see it through ?” you retorted mischievously.

Negan moved with a predator's intent, every step bringing him closer to you until he stood mere inches away. In that suspended moment, it felt as though time had halted, the world vanishing to leave only the confined space that separated the two of you. The passing seconds dragged by, laden with anticipation, until he loomed over you, finally capturing your face in a firm yet gentle hold, drawing it close to his. His intense gaze traced every curve of your eyes and lips, as if they beckoned to him.

As his fingers secured your face, a soft moan escaped your lips, lost amidst the hollow of his kiss. The ensuing embrace was fervent, ablaze with passion, and you responded with the entirety of the longing you held for him. However, Negan aimed to tantalize you, so he permitted the kiss to endure for just a few moments, kindling a flame within you and intensifying your longing for more. Releasing a frustrated sigh, you felt an intense longing — an unquenched fire that left you parched.

“Now there's a spot on the couch waiting for your pretty ass,” he remarked, letting you go. With a bottle of liquor and the two snack bowls in hand, he strode away, leaving you behind.

Returning to the living room, the movie played on, and he seamlessly carried on watching it, feigning normalcy by exchanging a kiss with one of his wives. It was disquieting to witness the charade of his role as the perfect husband with them, all the while engaging in infidelity with you.

“Screw me…” you muttered under your breath before exiting the room, carrying your tray toward the living area.

Sherry arched a curious eyebrow upon witnessing you arrange the appetizers on the coffee table, casually taking a few pistachios as she passed by. Unaware of your true intent, she observed you taking a seat on the sofa — pretending to concentrate fully on the movie playing on the television. It was then that she realized you intended to join them in watching the film.

With a glass of whiskey in hand, Negan slipped off his shoes and stretched out along the couch, observing your approach without quite meeting your gaze. Amber perched at the edge of the sofa, indulging in the snacks from the bowls.

Leaning behind Amber — careful not to touch her, Negan reached out with his leather-clad hand toward you. His fingers delicately slipped under your sweater, making direct contact with your skin, absentmindedly caressing it without averting his eyes from the television. You attempted to divert your attention to the screen, as though nothing had transpired. Nevertheless, your body responded intensely to his tender caresses, the sensation mingling with the remnants of his previous kiss, drawing you closer, yearning for more contact.

With every delicate rise of his fingers, it was as if you were engulfed in an irresistible yet tormenting inferno. Despite the turmoil within, an appearance of composure had to be maintained, a guise of indifference. His actions appeared effortless, his focus fixed on the screen, while his touch crept higher and higher, only to smoothly readjust as Amber settled in between you on the couch. He cleared his throat, flashing his characteristic shit-eating grin.

The movie merely served as a facade, concealing the true currents swirling in the room. The tension became almost suffocating, an unspoken magnetism pulling at your souls, yet no one acknowledged the brewing tempest, recklessly dancing with fire. The intensity between you both had swelled to an almost tangible thickness, enough to be sliced through with the sharpest blade. You cast a feverish glance toward Frankie, prompting her to sit upright, sensing the charged atmosphere.

“I think I'm ready for bed,” Frankie whispered a little suddenly.

“Same, I'm getting really sleepy,” Amber added.

“Mhm, I'm heading off too. Try not to stay up too late, guys,” Sherry said as she followed the other two women.

“Sleep tight, ladies,” Negan's parting was sealed with a tender kiss to each of the women, yet his unwavering gaze remained locked with yours. He was aware of your watchful gaze and took the opportunity to playfully tease you.

They dispersed into the solace of their individual chambers, melting into the shadows. While maintaining a facade of attention towards the television, he covertly tracked their movements until he was certain of your seclusion. Then, he turned toward you, a silent entreaty woven into the language of his gaze, beckoning you closer as if the very essence of his being yearned for your nearness.

“Come here,” he murmurs, gesturing with his raised arm to offer you space beside him.

You edged closer to his inviting warmth, shifting on the couch to draw nearer. The instant you nestled against him, his embrace enveloped you. His fingertips ventured down your back, making tender contact with your skin, a delicate dance of caresses. Nestled comfortably against him, your head found a cozy perch upon his shoulder, basking in the tenderness of his touch. His actions lulled you, evoking a melting sensation within.

“What's runnin' through that head of yours, darlin' ?” he murmurs in your direction.

The gentle strokes ceased. His hand settled on the curve of your lower back, doing nothing more but imprinting an imperceptible memory of his tender touch upon your skin. Negan's actions seemed deliberate, as if he sought to ignite a response within you, desiring to witness your own initiative, rather than taking the lead himself. In his ideal scenario, your body would have already be over his, seeking warmth. He harbored vivid images of it, yearning for what he'd envisioned on countless evenings.

“I don't know,” you exhaled, your words barely audible, your gaze unwaveringly locked with his. “About everything, and nothing at all.”

“I'll be damned, sweetheart,” he breathed, his voice a velvety rasp, “Uncertainty can be a wicked thing, can't it ? Everything and yet nothin', all wrapped up in one pretty package.”

The TV volume remained low, affording him the chance to catch any stray sounds. He was vigilant, ever mindful of his wives who, despite retiring to their rooms, could unexpectedly intrude at any instant. Negan wasn't particularly concerned about being caught in a passionate liaison with a woman ; if it were solely up to him, he'd fuck you right there on the balcony in front of everyone, demonstrating to all that you belonged to him. But it was more for your sake that he wished to avoid it — he knew you probably wouldn't want to be seen sharing sex with him.

A hush settled in the room as you rose, resting your hand on his chest. Your heart stubbornly refused to slow down while the background movie appeared to have lost its significance. Your gaze fixated on Negan's figure, captivated by the intensity of his dark, engulfing eyes.

“You need to stop giving me that look, Negan,” you stated.

“I can't help it if you bring out that look in me, sweetheart,” he replied, his lips curved in a smirk.

Slowly, your eyes traced his features, observing every detail from his lashes to the salt and pepper shade of his beard. Perching up on your knees, you take a careful glance around the room to make sure there was no one there. Assured of the privacy, you descended slowly, draping a leg over his, finally settling atop him, your breaths growing unsteady.

“You look like you're about to devour me on the spot,” you exhaled, sensing his body tensing beneath you.

“Well, babydoll, can't blame you for feeling a little nervous with ol' Negan here.”

His gaze narrowed, intensifying as curiosity and amusement danced within his eyes. Eager to discover the path of your actions, he deliberately halted even the subtlest of gestures toward you. And his anticipation was met. You placed your hands on each side of his shoulders, the contact of your pelvis against his eliciting a gasp of your mouth.

“Negan, I— Oh, for fuck's sake…” you blurt out, leaning in, nearly pressing against him.

“Seems cat's got someone's tongue, huh,” Negan chuckles, softly grazing your chin with his gloved hand.

Flushed with heat, you gently traced your fingers along his pristine white t-shirt, tucking the edges to sense his warmth against your fingers. Surprisingly, your boldness seemed to gratify him. Without delay, his hands found their way to your thighs, embracing your skin before gliding down to your hips, drawing you nearer. He bent his legs, pulling you close as possible, as if ensnaring you within his desires.

“Mhmm, that's it, keep it up, sweetheart. Just. Like. That.” his raspy voice growled.

The tension between you amplified with the gentle touch of his fingers caressing your skin, accompanied by his satisfied, teasing smile. Swiftly, he seizes your face, drawing you in for a direct and passionate kiss. Your lips eagerly met his, an urgent yearning manifesting as if they had craved this union for an eternity.

Enthralled by the passion conveyed in that kiss, he reasserted his hold on your hips, drawing the weight of your pelvis closer to his in an almost covetous manner. Every inch of your body responded to the fervor. Suppressing his profound yearnings for so long, he yielded, allowing his hands to trail along your curves. A sigh slipped from your lips at the sensation. His touch ventured beneath the fabric of your shorts, grasping your ass firmly. His action was almost too abrupt, considering how controlled it had been until now.

You were no longer the master of your actions, a mere observer of your own surrender. Unable to resist any longer, you yielded to the urge, shedding your suffocating sweater in a desperate attempt to ease the fire consuming your body. It seemed unbelievable that such a scene was unfolding, you that fighting valiantly against the tide of temptation, determined not to succumb.

Your breath mirrored his, swift and erratic, as your hands slipped beneath his t-shirt. Your fingers, curious and explorative, roamed across his skin, entwining in the few hairs as if seeking to uncover every secret of this uncharted territory.

Your lips sought out his cheek, trailing a series of kisses along the contour of his jaw. A soft sigh escaped you at the tantalizing touch of his beard against your lips, and you closed your eyes, imagining the sensation of it grazing between your thighs. The journey of kisses halted upon reaching the hollow of his neck. Gazing up at him, your eyes deepened with a smoldering intensity, betraying the fervent desire coursing through you.

“Doll, staring at me like that makes me as hard as a rock,” Negan teases, a sly grin dancing on his face.

“Oh, hush.”

Your tongue lazely passed over your lips as your sweater cascaded to the wayside. An almost involuntary movement drew your pelvis toward a search for friction, yearning to stoke the burgeoning flame deep within. Negan's hand clasped your jaw, a means of asserting dominance. He seized your lips in an intense kiss as you sought another after removing your sweater — an interlude far too fleeting for his taste to let it end there.

Having severed the kiss, having imbued it with the bittersweet flavor of his longing, he gently drew you back, his hand anchored to your face. In the subdued room, his gaze nearly disclosed a hint of regret for not being able to explore the contour of your chest more intimately. He indulged in the delight of relishing a closer sensation by letting his fingers glide from your neck to the delicate curve of one of your breasts, tenderly caressing it.

"Damn, babydoll, look at you. So damn sexy," Negan rumbled in a husky tone, his words carrying a mix of admiration and appreciation for what he was seeing — what he was feeling.

In the pursuit of evoking a reaction from your body, he persisted in his caress, his index finger accompanied by his middle finger captivating the tip of your mound to make it harden further. Allowing his lips to envelop your flesh button, he began to gently suckle, his hand cupping and kneading your second breast while his other hand glided down your back, drawing you nearer to him, as if such closeness were even possible. Simultaneously, he urged you to continue the friction that your pelvis created against his, while beneath the thick fabric of his gray trousers, his growing member was already palpable.

You sensed your heart pounding against your chest, sending tremors through your entire being. The passion ignited such a fervor, inducing a wetness between your thighs that heightened with each subtle motion against his bulge. As he worked on the first reddened mound, he shifted his attention to the second, prolonging the intimacy without breaking away. His hand, departing from the comforting warmth of your skin, ventured further, becoming more invasive as it found its place between your thighs.

You let out a soft sigh as his hands grazed your fevered skin. In touch with the cloth of your shorts, he effortlessly detected your moisture with a gentle, deliberate press. His smile brushed against your skin, teasing your hardening bud as he intensified the caress of his fingers against your welcoming depths, eliciting you a moan that sent shivers down his spine.

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs huskily, his words brushing against your skin.

Each shift of your body against his made you acutely aware of his hardness pressing against your lower abdomen, igniting vivid, consuming thoughts. His words and the sensations from his hands evoked a swarm of butterflies in your chest.

Passionate, moist kisses lingered on your lips, easing your sighs into delicate moans. Struggling to keep your responses in check, aiming not to draw the attention of his wives — who, you prayed, were sound asleep in their chambers, only served to heighten your fevered state. As the kisses deepened, you glanced down to witness the unfolding intimacy between you. The sensation was wet and intoxicating, a feeling you adored, yet it failed to satiate your longing ; you craved more, like an ache that consumed you.

Once more, your hands ventured under his t-shirt, gradually raising it to uncover his tonic abdomen amidst the subdued light of the television. As your hands glided around him, ascending his back to help disrobe him, your hips resumed their movement, driven by the burgeoning passion stirring within you.

You let out a hiss as your thighs quivered around him, feeling the discomfort of your shorts. Using your fingertips, you eventually made it to the edge of his pants, playfully tugging them down intermittently while seeking his approval through eye contact.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Negan exhaled deeply, smirking against your jaw.

He snarled and moved aside your damp underwear. Your desires were explicit, needing no further communication for him to comprehend your needs. He grazed his finger along your sensitive areas, savoring the sounds escaping your lips. Sensing your hands clutching his shoulders, he starts tracing circular motions around your nerve bundle, causing you to writhe on top of him.

“W-Wait,” you managed to say, widening your eyes, a surge of pleasure building as he persisted.

“Shh, let me take care of you. Cum for me,” he responded, prompting your release against his hand. “You're doing so well, sweetheart,” he praised you.

He lapped at your juices greedily on his fingers, revealing in the taste of your arousal. Encircling his arm around your delicate form, he effortlessly maneuvered to switch your positions, laying you on your side. You yielded without protest, sinking into the cushioned comfort of the sofa.

Leaning against the cushions with one arm, he stood tall above you and leaned in for a passionate kiss, his other hand swiftly pulling away the last garment covering your body, exposing you to the open air. Without needing assistance, he tore away your panties and eager to remove his own pants and boxers, freeing himself.

As you shared a kiss, he momentarily paused to collect saliva on his hand, which he used to moisten himself, locking eyes with you intensely. There was no turning back for both of you.

“Negan,” you gasp, a fervent ache consuming you.

“Use your words, darling. I want to hear you beg me,” he demands.

“Negan, please… I want you so bad,” you murmur in a quivering, warm tone near his ear, your eyes growing heavier as your bodies press together.

Grasping his girth, he glides it along your folds, teasing before exerting pressure to breach your intimacy. A guttural sound escapes his throat as he leans back, relishing the feeling of penetrating you. Despite the discomfort, you tremble, releasing a stifled moan as he tantalizes your wetness with his thumb. Retracting, he positions himself on his knees, guiding his member with a few deliberate movements.

Clasping your thighs firmly, he drew you nearer by lifting your knees towards his chest, seeking better access to your intimacy. His thumb moistened your entrance with your own secretions before he tease you with the head of his cock. He shifted above you, covering your lips with his own to stifle your sounds as he smoothly entered you, his pelvis slamming against yours.

Your chest rose and fell in sync with your racing heartbeat as your fingers gently wandered through the tangle of his dark locks at the back of his head. The tension surrounding you was so consuming that you lost awareness of your surroundings and any potential consequences of your actions.

When you sensed his entrance, your body instinctively arched and stiffened. Your face tensed as you tried to adjust to this new sensation. Gradually, you acclimated to his presence, and in a suggestive move, you raised your hips, wrapping your legs around his waist, signaling your desire for him to continue.

Gripping the sofa, he lifted your face abruptly, stifling a deep groan that resonated in his throat. The way your body arched upon his possession, the tightening of your flesh around him, heightened the rush of blood in his veins. Slowly, he eased into a series of gentle pelvic movements.

It was a captivating sight, leaving you breathless as you finally sensed his motion inside you. A thin film of sweat adorned your skin, and the heat brought a flush to your face, framed by damp strands of hair. Negan couldn't help but marvel at how perfect you looked in that moment — like a goddess who had descended from the heavens just for him.

His movements were restrained, as he aimed to find more space, all the while displaying a sense of self-control. This tenderness was not typical of his character. However, when Negan lifted his gaze to study your expressions and the fervor they revealed, he permitted himself to quicken his pace. Beginning softly and then progressively intensifying, causing your body to shift beneath him. His hand turned to silence your mouth, and his grunts intensified in your ear.

“You feel so good,” he moaned between a few strokes.

The manner in which his pelvis met yours left no room for evasion. This subtle motion that swept you along drove you to the edge, even though it was merely the start. You ultimately found the delight, the one veiled within your unspoken desires, beneath your garments, in the recesses of your intimacy. Each of your cries was subdued, to avoid raising any doubts and the movie, its credits scrolling on the screen, was no longer a cover for you.

“Tell me. Tell me you fucking belong to me, dollface,” he murmured, planting kisses along your collarbone before biting your earlobe, leaning in as he demanded, “Say it.”

“Fuck—,” you muttered, turning your face to meet his gaze.

You found yourself laughing nervously at every motion, electrified by the exquisite sensations that regularly coursed through you. Your legs clung to him while your hands had sought solace on his back. Your body quivered and molded around his larger frame.

“Say it,” he insisted, picking up his speed, surpassing the intensity he'd shown before.

“Yours. Only yours !” you gasped as you sensed him accelerating, feeling your muscles tightening around him.

“Abso-fucking-lutely. All mine,” he snarled, his voice dripping like honey.

A hush enveloped the surroundings, broken only by the rhythmic sounds of flesh meeting and the partially muted expressions of pleasure that conveyed the intense experience shared between you — and the need to stifle the impending cries pulsating within you nearly propelled you over the edge. Consumed by the moment, you disregarded any concerns about potential listeners, focusing solely on the overwhelming sensation that enveloped you.

A knot formed within you as a distant door creaked open, signifying the departure of one of Negan's wives from her room. The mere idea prompted you to stiffen. But Negan firmly held your hips, intensifying his pace, propelling you closer to the brink of climax.

“Hold on, there's somebody,” you gasp, confused by Negan's apparent indifference.

“It ain't an issue if there's company,” he declares, forcefully driving his hips against you.

“Negan I'm—,” you cursed, your hips rising to enhance the skin-to-skin connection. Your head arched backward, immersing you in a profound trance.

“Cum for me, baby,” he groaned, his voice husky with desire. “Show me how much you want it.”

Intense pleasure courses through your veins, compelling you to grasp his hair and arch your hips to meet his movements. His hold on your hips tightens like that of a ravenous creature, and you knew you would be bruised the next day, but in that moment, it doesn't matter.

Negan glided a hand down, teasing and stimulating your most sensitive spot with his thumb, propelling you closer to your next climax. The noises coming out of your throat as you came were the sexiest sounds he had ever heard and damn, it driving him wild. It's with one last powerful push, he poured himself into you, your bodies entwined in a dance of passion and desire.

“Fuck fuck fuuuck,” he spat, shutting his eyes.

He fell onto you, utterly drained. You both remained intertwined, allowing your still-warm bodies to linger in a comfortable silence. As you slowly regained awareness, the sound of the door closing snapped you out of your daze, and you were suddenly struck by the reality of the situation. Sensing your movement beneath him, Negan slowly rose, propping himself up with one arm.

“Did you just— ?” you halted, sensing a chilling atmosphere enveloping your core when Negan withdrew from you, appearing as bewildered as you felt.

“I didn't mean to. You made it hard for me with all this damn mess,” he breath. He seemed to hold himself responsible, hoping this error hadn't disrupted the beginning of your relationship. Truth be told, sleeping with you was a significant move in his plan to have you entirely for himself.

You fall into a moment of silence, still slightly affected by the intensity of your lovemaking. As you both prepare to dress, Negan, clad only in his boxers, catches your attempt to glance around the room. Interrupting, he requests you an another, gentler kiss. You find yourself smiling in the midst of this tender moment, momentarily forgetting your worries. Eventually, you begin to reassess your choice about joining his group of wives…

Maybe you should think about it again.

A/N : Thanks for reading ! And sorry for any grammatical or other mistakes, English is not my first language. If you have any fanfic requests regarding Jeffrey's characters, please feel free to ask — I'd be happy to write them for you <3

[azes-silliness]

Illusion in shattered glass 

An: I promise I’m working on reqs but this was already in my drafts so 💙 I need more Mr. Reca content so I decided to make some! He’s a character with alot of potential 🫶🏼

A dream is just a nightmare you do not want to wake up from.

Inspiration: I can’t find the post anymore but there was a post about someone talking about Mr. Reca erasing his darling’s memories every time he confesses that to try to achieve perfection, if you find it plz tell me and I can add the link 💙 

An: I didn’t reread or review it so it might suck, but I did add effort. First few chapter are skip-able ish if your impatient. 

Summary: A picture perfect love story directed by Penacony’s greatest director.

Except it isn’t perfect.

You don’t remember any bit of this so-called ‘story’.

Because you-

—CUT!—

TAKE ONE 

“I love you, y/n.”

     “!?-Mr. Reca-I-do too…”

    Directors notes: Disapproved! Adding a title in the acceptance just makes there seem to be a distance or unfamiliarity!

TAKE TWO

“Ah. Y/n. I do adore you.”

         “-Reca…? In a platonic or a romantical way…?”

Director’s notes: Disapproved! The way in which y/n still must ask the intent of those words making them seem dense whilst they have much more intelligence then most actors.

TAKE THREE

“Y/n. Will you marry me?”

       “Gasp. I-ofcourse, Reca…!”

Directors notes: Mhmm…getting better! But it should be perfect! Therefore disapproved!

TAKE FOUR

Disapproved!

TAKE FIVE

Disapproved!

TAKE SIX

Disapproved!

TAKE SEVEN

——

TAKE EIGHT HUNDRED AND EIGHTY EIGHT

————1—————

Mr. Reca slammed his fist on the table as he re-watched the records for the nth time. “Ugh. Disapproved…disapproved…Y/n deserves only perfection, not this dogwash!” He cried, cupping his face between his hands in frustration, mumbling under his breath. “No…no…no….” He murmured, why was this so hard? He was the greatest director in the world! Why couldn’t he properly direct his own love story,..?

Yes, yes, he had tried all the cliché proposals and confessions, flowers, letters, even using a cat to carry on his letter. So what was missing in his grand vision of this ‘perfect confession’!?

———2———

{{This chapter is to give depth to the reader and extra interactions. Skip it you want though somethings may be a bit confusing 💕}}

“What I think of Mr. Reca…?” You echoed, tilting your head in confusion. This was…not what you had expected your friends to ask you during your truth or dare game. “Yeah! I heard you rejected him before!” They gasped excitedly, one of them bumping your shoulder and giggling, covering their mouth. “No. I never did that. He’s just my boss. Those are just rumors.” You clarify, shaking you head with a shy smile. You’d never reject him. Well, you’d never reject him if he asked! But that was just most likely your brain too full of those telenova romance movies you binge watched over the weekend. You looked down to your hands and shook your head lightly, trying to wipe those thoughts from your brain. “Anytyywwwaaayy…. y/n!” Your friend called, pointing at you, already seemingly forgetting their previous question, “You didn’t answer the last question, so you better answer this one!” They chirped in their usual bubbly manner, happily shaking your shoulder like a needy child. Oh no. They had a mischevious glimmer in their eyes. “Tell the truth…why do you only hang out with us in the dreamscape!?” They demanded, huffing while crossing their arms dramatically. Your pulse unknowingly quickened, but your expression was still positive. “I just am too busy outside of the dreamscape. Nothing secretive. Now….F/N!” You smile and point at your other friend in the same matter as the latter, grinning, “Truth or dare?”

———3———

Mr. Reca sat on his desk, Assistant Director across his lap as he went through script after script after proposal after proposal. How boring. It would be a hundred times more interesting to be spending these wasted hours with you. But oh well. Duty called, much to his chagrin. What an artistic block. Almost all of the scripts these days lacked individuality and creativity.

All but lacking stories with a totally predictable ending, boring characters and poorly suggested visuals. The director eventually ran his patience through, crumpling the paper in his hands and throwing it across the room in absolute irritation.

“Mr. Reca…? Are you alright?” You called, knocking on the door after you had heard his exasperated grunts. “Oh, y/n! Please, please, come in if you wish! of course I am alright!” He called, his mood already being lifted by your prescence and concern. As soon as you opened the door he ushered you in and had you seated on the couch in the far corner of the messy room in a matter of seconds. You glanced across at him akwardly, only given a few moments to settle where you sat before Mr. Reca began talking endlessly about the films he was working on, the potential-less stories and manuscripts he was forced to read and a lot of his day. In truth, most of it went over your head, merely keeping up your part of the conversation with the bare minimum occasionally nodding and throwing out “Mhmm”’s “Er-yes…” and “Totally.”

———4———

“Y/n. How do you feel today?” Mr. Reca smiled, drapping his jacket across your shoulders. Even though the weather in the dreamscape was hardly cold, today felt a bit different. “A bit…cold…” You offer, snuggling into his warm jacket and hunching slightly. You looked up to see Mr. Reca with a sad smile, which surprised you. “Is…something wrong?” You asked, looking at him with a concerned look. Mr. Reca never usually showed sadness, but now his expression also held something you never thought was possible for him.

He looked…in grief?

Before you could open your mouth to ask him again, Mr. Reca looked you straight in the eye, his hands clasping together nervously, “Y/n…I love you.”

Your brain could hardly comprehend that. You stared at him for a while, wide eyed and your mouth half open when you finally remembered to swallow. You looked down and turned to him with a joyful smile, “I do too, Reca.” Mr. Reca returned your smile, though it still seemed like he was thinking of something else. You put a hand carefully on his shoulder and hesitantly kissed his forehead. “Is there…something wrong?” 

You were met with some silence, which seemed incredibly heavy, not something you would expect the atmosphere of a confession to be like. You knew what was wrong. You did. 

But you didn’t remember. 

And you can’t remember why.

“Wrong? No. We are actually following the ‘right’” Mr. Reca finally replied, shaking his head whilst forcing a smile. He pulled you into an unexpected embrace, burying his head into the crook of your neck as his shoulders seemed to sag. “And in the will of fate we can never be together.” 

You stared at him, though you weren’t confused. Yes, because this happened before.

Eight hundred and eighty eight times, to be exact.

This was what the aeons had written in both your destinies.

“Yes…yes…”

“Because you never existed in the first place.”

———5———

Mr. Reca was now hugging his empty jacket, devoid of the warmth it used to hold. 

And he cried.

It had never gotten easier to accept every time that you were a mere memory zone meme.

A fragment of his consciousness and the embodiment of his wish.

Salty tears fell one after the other in a bitter waterfall as Mr. Reca bit his lip, trying to regain his composure as his breath hitched and more tears spilled.

It was an ironic, almost funny thing

The missing piece in his ‘perfect confession’ had always been you.

———

TAKE EIGHT HUNDRED EIGHTY NINE

———

[probablyasocialecologist]

Interviews with current and former US Agency for International Development (USAID) and State Department officials, aid agencies working in Gaza and internal USAID documents reveal that the administration rejected or ignored pleas to use its leverage to persuade its ally Israel – the recipient of billions of dollars of US military support – to allow sufficient humanitarian aid into Gaza to stop the famine taking hold. The former officials say the US also provided diplomatic cover for Israel to create the conditions for famine by blocking international efforts to bring about a ceasefire or alleviate the crisis, making the delivery of aid almost impossible. “This is not just turning a blind eye to the man-made starvation of an entire population, it is direct complicity,” former State Department official Josh Paul, who resigned over US support for the war, told The Independent.

[...]

From the time of the first warning signs in December, intensive US pressure on Israel to open more land crossings and flood Gaza with aid could have stopped the crisis taking hold, the officials said. But Mr Biden refused to make US military aid to Israel conditional. Instead, the Biden government pursued novel and ineffective aid solutions such as airdrops and a floating pier. Now, some 300,000 people in Gaza’s north are experiencing a “full-blown” famine, according to the World Food Programme, and the entire 2.3 million population of Gaza is experiencing catastrophic levels of hunger. The level of dissent within the US government agency responsible for administering civilian foreign aid and combating global hunger has been unprecedented. At least 19 internal dissent memos have been sent since the start of the war by staff at USAID criticising US support for the war in Gaza. In an internal collective dissent memo drafted this month by numerous employees of USAID, the staff assail the agency and the Biden administration for its “failure to uphold international humanitarian principles and to adhere to its mandate to save lives”. The leaked draft memo, seen by The Independent, calls for the administration to apply pressure to bring “an end to the Israeli siege that is causing famine”. Not acting upon repeated warnings like these was a political choice.

[...]

At least 254 aid workers have been killed throughout the conflict, including 188 UN staff – representing the highest number of UN personnel killed in a conflict in the history of the organisation. Multiple aid convoys have come under Israeli fire. UNRWA, the UN’s Palestinian refugee agency, said that despite sharing GPS coordinates, the number of trucks and the contacts with the military, three of their aid convoys have been hit by Israeli naval artillery and gunfire.

[jacesbeloved]

amidst the waves: special part

summary: born a lowborn, your family a group of fishermen that supply the market; one day, it wasn't a fish caught but rather, a young man.

pairing: lucerys velaryon x fem!reader

notes: heree’s a special gift in the name of hotd s2 !! had this in the drafts for so long and just finished it after the first ep as a warm up for the fics to come :D i hope u guys enjoy

part: I, II, III, special

You had hoped for a nicer sea.

Inside of a sturdy wooden fishing boat, situated in the middle of the waters, all the while rain was pouring down on you, the waves wasn't cooperating as well.

Your hair was tied into a knot, absolutely drenched from the rainwater, as you desperately tried to help Alaine tie the net inside of your boat. Some of the sea creatures you've captured managed to jump back out because of the chaos inside of the boat.

"Are we not heading back!?" Alaine yelled, hands clutching the sides of the boat as the waves rocked the both of you.

"What do you think I'm doing!?" You moved the oars aggressively. Alaine groaned before joining you in rowing the boat.

Your hair strands stuck to your forehead by the time you arrived at a part of the sea where the storm had calmed down. Only a light shower of rain droplets fell on the both of you.

Alaine wiped her forehead tiredly, resting her head on her hands while you continued rowing. Desperate to head back home and escape any possible storm that may follow your boat.

Something seemed to feel wrong; like you were forgetting, neglecting something.

You sneaked your eyes to the side, a second before you sharply turned towards your sister's direction. Her skin was pale, body shivering.

"Alaine? Alaine!" You pulled off the extra piece of clothing around your neck and proceeded to place it around your sister. "Hey? Stay with me, okay? I'll bring us back." You whisper on her forehead and she weakly nods.

A sigh leaves your lips, forgetting the ache in your arms as you started to row continuously without any break.

It took the both of you an hour at most; your arms were practically crying and shaking. The fear and nervousness inside of you growing whenever you glance at your sister still trembling in your scarf.

The familiar shore reappears in your sight, even though it was still far away, you felt a bit relieved seeing it.

There was no one by the shore when you got closer. Your hut's door closed shut and you couldn't see any movement from inside of the open windows. You gently grabbed your sister's head, whispering her name on her head as you tried to wake her up.

"We're here, Alaine. Please stay for me," you spoke, rubbing her head as you started screaming your brother's name. "Arrel! Where are you! We need you, now!"

By your first scream, there wasn't anyone that came out to help bring you fully to the shore. You screamed Arrel's name again, this time even louder which caused Alaine to groan.

You apologized softly, pulling back the oars and rowing.

Someone yells your name, at first you thought it was Arrel but it wasn't.

There was another figure right beside your brother's. A figure that seemed taller, a little bit bulkier, and certainly more layered. The figure had a unique coat on, a luxurious one.

Your eyes go wide when the two of them run to your boat, pulling the front to the shore as your body freezes on the spot.

It's Luke.

Or, to be correct, Prince Lucerys.

"What happened to her, Y/N?" he asks out with concern, rushing to pull off the coat he was wearing and place it on top of your sister.

You weren't sure what to tell him; do you just answer and act normal as if there wasn't anything that went on between the two of you three years ago? Or do you ignore him, throw a tantrum, reject his offer of a helping hand?

"Y/N! What happened to her?!" You were snapped back to reality when Arrel was the one that asked you. Your eyes blinking erratically as you stammered through your words, telling them that it seemed Alaine caught a cold because of the rain.

"We have to bring her to the hut. Arrel, get some new clothes for her, the ones I bought, those are comfortable and warm enough for her." Luke instructs, your brother nodding as he runs off.

"What- Arrel! Help me bring Alaine there what are you doing!"

Luke sighs, obvious to him that you were ignoring him.

He grabs hold of Alaine's arm, helping her up with his hand on her hips. Despite not wanting to, you grabbed the other arm and proceeded to help your sister out of the boat. Choosing to set aside your pride for now.

"You should run inside. You're drenched! I will carry her." Luke says, stopping for a moment.

"No!" You yelled.

Luke huffs, rolling his eyes as he nods.

By the time you got to the hut, you had quickly finished dressing Alaine in a new set of clothes from her wardrobe, not taking the ones Arrel was handing you that were from Lucerys.

Arrel had brought in a pot with cold water, and you grabbed a towel and submerged it in cold water before folding it to place on top of Alaine's forehead. The younger woman was still shivering, even though her forehead was hot.

"Here," Luke joins, entering the open room with some liquid inside of a small cup.

You looked at him, confused. "This," he says, raising the cup. "It's tea. We can use it to make her sweat and get the cold out. We have to get the heat out of her body."

"I know how to treat a cold, Luke," you grumbled. Arrel is looking at you with an "are you serious" look. Another sigh leaves your lips. Arrel rolls his eyes and takes the tea from Luke.

You held the back of your sister's head up, helping Arrel and Luke as they tried to make her drink it. Making sure that none of the hot liquid falls on her. Alaine coughs loudly, grimacing at the taste.

When the two males get her to drink it all, you set her back down and wrap a blanket over her body. Letting her rest and sleep.

Hours passed by in such an awkward atmosphere. You were seating on the seat by the kitchen, quietly cutting an apple as Arrel assorted today's catch into different tubs. Luke was out for a bit, unclear to you what he was doing but all that you remembered was him borrowing a piece of parchment and some ink. After that, he stayed inside of the living room, right across from the open kitchen with Arrel in the middle.

Your youngest sibling suddenly stands up, informing you that he'll be taking them to the market and that he left some to cook for later.

"W-what, you're leaving now?" You stammered, eyes flicking over to Luke before snapping back to Arrel.

"Yes. I have to get these to the market. I have to buy some herbs and other food as well, some you can use for our dinner with Luke later-"

"I appreciate the thought, Arrel, but there is need not of an extra dinner. I can leave before dinner if needed-" It was Luke's turn to speak now.

Your lips go dry, Luke gulping, Arrel staring at the both of you weirdly.

Taking none of yours statements into account, he leaves the hut. Ignoring your empty threat.

That is why here you both were. Sitting in silence, not a word spoken, no stories of what happened in the other's life for the past years.

You lean back a bit, catching a glimpse of the sun setting so you stand up. Rubbing your hands on your hips. "I'll start cooking."

Luke was quick to stand as well, following your footsteps to the kitchen. "I can- I'll help!"

"No need. Sit."

"Nonsense. I used to cook for your family all the time." He says with a chuckle, an attempt in lightening up the atmosphere. "Used to, Luke. I'm sure your maids and cooks cook for you now, of course you'd forget how to grill and cook."

He grabs the small pail filled with fish, running outside and away from you.

Being the person that you are, you ran after him. Dashing out of the door while screaming his name, glaring at him. A smile draws on his lips as he runs near the shore, the weight of his clothes evidently wearing him down.

You shove him hard, gripping the padded shoulder of his shirt when you catch onto him. Luke laughs at that, acting as if he was getting hurt with each time you smacked his shoulder.

"Give me it; I'll cook," you demanded.

He calms down a bit, sealing his lips as he thinks for a second. Eventually, he hands you the pail with a small grin. "As long as you'll let me help."

Your eyes narrowed at him, and he walked away without a word. Luke catches up to you with no problem and sets out to walk beside you with his hands behind his back.

"I missed you, you know," he said. The sudden statement surprised you, a faint red hue threatening to show on your cheeks.

"I wrote to you many times," and you started to feel a bit apologetic. Remembering the times when a random raven flies to your hut, having a letter with Luke's signature? Speaking about how being with his family was weird but great,. He was still weird even after months, but he grew back into his family. Though he also missed staying in the hut, in his own little tent, grilling seafood at night for dinner.

"I didn't know you did," you lied.

You hear him scoff a bit: "I found my letters underneath your bed; Y/N. Arrel showed them to me."

And there it is. The nerve to apologize after being caught.

"I assume you have your reasons, and I respect that." He cuts off your train of thoughts, already assuring you when he sees the guilt strike your face.

"Forgive me," you said. "There is nothing to forgive, Y/N. I understand that we did not really leave each other on a good foot." He spoke with some sense of maturity, different from the one he already had way back.

You nod, pursing your lips.

The two of you remained silent, him watching as you prepped the fish, expertly using your knife quick and clean.

"So what brought you back here?" It was your turn to speak, opening up a conversation.

"I told you." He smiles at you. "I missed you."

You look away from him, acting as if you were looking for something, just to avoid him seeing your cheeks. The sun was still setting, and he would still be able to see the rosy stains on your cheeks from his reply.

"And the sea," he laughed, pointing at the waters. You laughed with him, and although it was forced, you tried your best not to. "Of course, the sea."

The rest of the conversation passed by awfully comfortably. It was like two childhood friends catching up about what happened in their lives. Loud laughs and playful remarks thrown here and there whenever one joked about something.

Arrel arrived, not really interrupting them when he did. Just simply walking inside the hut silently carrying some other already cooked food.

You remember one simple question that you had—something that was lingering in your head for the whole day ever since you saw him today. "What is it, my lady?"

"So, uh, how is life betrothed?" The response you got caught you off-guard.

Luke laughed. He laughed. Loudly. Not just a simple laugh; no, he was laughing hard.

You got thrown off by that, shaking your head and looking away. Focusing down on what you were cooking over the fire, as you just chose not to push on it. When he laughs at your name, you scowl. "What?!"

"Y/N-"

A loud roar cuts you both off, and your heart almost falls out of your ribcage when you see two big dragons flying in your direction. Your hand immediately comes over to grip Luke's arm, squeezing it as you point at the two creatures with fear on your face.

Compared to the pure fright on your face, Luke's face had relaxed as he recognized the two dragons despite the dark skies.

Both dragons flew above them, circling their little vicinity before the two dragons disappear for a few moments. Taking deep breaths, you slowly released your hold on his arm. A small smile appeared on his face as you went back to the clay pot hanging over the fire as if nothing had happened.

He followed you to your spot, ghosting over the fire as he watched you in silence. I watched the way your forehead creased in concentration, but the nibbling on your lips told him you were still irritated.

"I do not have a betrothed, my lady," he says the answer that was interrupted before.

"Rest her soul."

Luke shakes his head, "She is not dead. The betrothal was called off a few days after I returned."

"Oh!" you sigh, biting the inside of your cheek awkwardly at the piece of information. You didn't necessarily know what to do with the information but it certainly did lift a lot of weight off of your chest. "That is... unfortunate."

"Incredibly unfortunate," Luke echoes in the most monotone voice you ever heard. A deadpan look on his face.

You were about to take notice on that response of his when three figures appear behind him. I am walking towards the both of you. Luke, looking back as well, turns again to you but now with a genuine smile.

When they come closer, your breath hitches. It's Queen Rhaenyra with Prince Jacaerys and Joffrey.

"Your grace," you say, taking a knee and bowing to them. Luke glances at you as he does a shallow curtsy himself before he stretches his arms to hug his family.

"It is our honor to meet you, Lady Y/N. You are my son's savior," Rhaenyra reaches to shake your hand, a look of genuineness on her eyes. Jace and Joffrey reach as well, each taking turns saying their greetings.

"You praise me, your grace. I simply did what any normal person would do. It is more surprising and commendable that Prince Luke—" you pause, "Lucerys—managed to live through our impoverished, penniless—"

"Y/N." Luke stops you there, holding your arm with a frown. "You should not bring your family down. You guys have been more than welcoming and accommodating for me."

"I agree with Luke. It is us that are in debt to your hospitality. Without you, I do not think our family could have been complete again." Jace cuts in with a solemn smile.

Rhaenyra comes forward, glancing at your family's hut. "Oh, my parents are yet to come back from the town. My brother, Arrel, is also in the market for dinner—perfect!"

"I had just remembered. I will be able to cook a bigger dinner once he arrives."

"There is no need, dear. We have come here to express our gratitude for your hospitality to my son," Rhaenyra says softly. "May we?" You nod eagerly, opening the front door of your hut to welcome the unexpected family.

Luke tends to Alaine first, covering her with the curtain to provide her with some privacy as she is sleeping, before he happily accompanies his own brothers. Even telling Joffrey to start fanning the pit of fire while Jace skewered the fish. You and his mother having a cup of tea inside.

"You are all fishermen?"

You nod, "My mother and father deliver these seafood to King's Landing on occasion, which is why only us three are left here."

Rhaenyra hums, looking around. "Luke has told us all about this. According to him, he learned a lot more lessons on livelihood here than in King's Landing."

The two of you share laughters at that. "My apologies, your grace. My family—I included them—had not known of Luke—Prince Lucery's status so we had treated him as normal as we would any other person."

"There is no need to call him with such formalities. I am aware of the relationship you both share," Rhaenyra replies and you look at her awkwardly.

What even is this relationship that she speaks of? You weren't quite sure.

"There is no need to feel troubled, Y/N. If my son has yet to tell you, his—"

"Betrothal was called off," You finish for her. The Queen sends you a knowing look as she nods. The two of you comfortably sitting in silence.

A gasp disrupts the silence, "Oh my, your grace," Alaine's head falls to bow. Gulping as she looks at you with major confusion. You shrug discreetly, not knowing how to reply.

"This is Alaine. Our middle-born." Alaine does a curtsy with nervousness before Luke's call from outside echoes inside. "Mother! Y/N! Dinner is ready. Arrel has arrived back as well!" Luke yells from outside.

The three of them head back out to reveal the four boys getting along with each other. Arrel, despite being younger than the other three, is tallest and is the one ordering them around. They were fixing the plates and preparing the cooked meat.

Alaine had already run to the food as soon as she came out. You and Rhaenyra... still chatted.

"I know my son's attachment is heavy but I tell you this as a mother: all I want for Luke is happiness. He is to rule Driftmark after his grandfather. I figure it will be an incredibly burden, not to discredit your or..."

"Your grace, I do not know."

"Mother," Luke calls. The two of you turning to him. "You shan't pressure Y/N. Let us have supper."

Rhaenyra squeezes your hand as she sighs, nodding while pulling the both of you to where they were eating.

It was a rowdier but definitely cozier supper. Laughters and stories both from the sea and the castle were shared as if there weren't a barrier between their status—because to them, there weren't.

Luke was right beside you throughout supper. Comfortably jesting with your siblings and his. It was all too casual.

The two of you share a look at that moment, eyes staring longingly at each other. A smile comes onto your lips when you feel his hand slowly and softly creeping into your free hand. You glance at his hand, then at his face.

He's smiling at you. One that pulls at your heart again, just like before. Only this time, he's sure he won't be leaving you any time soon.

[demonpiratehuntress]

that's not for you to decide

Roronoa Zoro x F!Reader

Summary - he thinks you deserve better, and decides to push you away. that just makes everything worse, but you ultimately forgive the big idiot.

Warnings - HEAVY angst in the beginning but turns to comfort, this can work for both versions of Zoro i think? REPOSTING BECAUSE I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE INCOMPLETE DRAFT

GIF by anime-aishiteru

GIF by suuho

You don't know how it came to this. You tried to replay everything you'd ever done, to figure out where it all went wrong. To figure out what you could have possibly gotten so wrong for this to happen. But you were drawing blanks, and it tugged on your heartstrings even more.

You sat there and watched the swordsman listen intently to the woman who spoke to him, a beautiful native of the island.

Your crew had stopped here to replenish your resources. It was supposed to have been just that, yet you ended up staying for far longer than you expected. The downside to having an overenthusiastic captain with a unquenchable thirst for adventure, you supposed. Luffy would never have just sailed away and left this small village to suffer at the hands of a not-so-mythical and super grumpy griffin.

But now here you were, pining after the one person you wanted most in the world - who only seemed to be pushing you away. It gnawed at your heart, and left you painfully overthinking everything you'd ever said to him, everything you'd ever done for him. A week earlier everything had been fine, and he was friendly with you. Then something changed, and he grew distant and cold. And now, it seemed, he was adding 'breaking your heart' to the list of things he was doing to you.

You looked down at your drink just in time to see a teardrop make contact with the alcoholic liquid, the collision sending ripples outwards in the small, circular shape of the glass. You had tried hard, really hard, to not cry right here, in front of everyone. But fate, it seemed, was working even harder to make sure you were heartbroken by the end of the night.

"(Name) are you okay?"

You barely heard Nami, your eyes drifting back towards Zoro and the woman who was chatting to him animatedly. He met your gaze, and for a moment something flickered in his eyes, before he turned his attention back to her and moved closer. He gave her his full attention, making sure to show that he was actually listening and not dozing off like he did whenever Nami was bothering him. Your heart sunk even lower in your chest, a dull aching beginning to grow. The tears fell faster, and you gripped your drink tighter as that familiar stinging in your throat came. You dropped your head again, before unintentionally letting out a loud sob.

All your crewmate's heads snapped in your direction.

"S-Sorry," you apologised, hastily putting your drink down before getting up. "I-I'm-" You stopped when you noticed only one of them hadn't even bothered to look in your direction.

"That idiot," you heard Nami and Sanji grumble in unison.

That was the last straw for you. Your heart crashed to the bottom of its cavern, shattering in the process. Tears filled your eyes faster than you could stop them, blurring your vision to the point you only saw a blob of green a few feet away. You swayed on your feet, stumbling a bit, the full weight of his rejection hitting you full force.

"(Name)!"

You jerked away from the hand that grabbed your arm, not knowing who it was. Only then did Zoro look at you, but that's because everyone else was looking at you as well. You turned and fled, your shaky legs doing their best to carry you as far away from the scene as possible.

You fled into the forest, an area known on this island for it's unimaginable horrors.

-

He only thought you deserved better. In his mind, he was doing you a favour by pushing you away. Because he wasn't good for you, and he didn't deserve you. You deserved a lot better than him. And this was what he thought was a reasonable justification for his behaviour.

His heart sunk at the sight of your tears. He was acting like he didn't see them, but he noticed each and every drop that fell and each one caused a painful pang to reverberate through his chest. He hated it when you were upset, and he despised when you cried. But now he was the cause of it. Part of him wanted to drop this act, run to you and beg for forgiveness.

But he stayed where he was.

He let you think he didn't care. That he was going to keep chatting up this mindless bimbo in front of him. Because that was better for you right? He was only doing this for your sake.

Someone's fist collided with his jaw, sending him stumbling back a bit.

"What the hell?!" He glared at the blonde cook, "You really wanna start a fight right here, waiter?"

Sanji was about to say something equally insulting, but was interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream erupting from within the forest's tall, gloomy trees.

Your bloodcurdling scream.

Zoro's blood ran cold. Every bone in his body stiffened for a millisecond, before he tore off towards the forest, sprinting faster than he ever had in his life. His heart was racing a million miles an hour, thundering in his chest like it would break out of his chest and beat him to you.

When he finally found you, his heart almost stopped.

You were on your back on the ground, lying in a pool of your own blood. Your shirt was ripped at your waist, which seemed to be where your wound was. Upon closer inspection, his panic increased tenfold. The gashes were deep, three long claw marks decorating your waist.

"(Name)!" He surged forward, shaking you roughly. His fear was getting the best of him, and he was starting to think the worst. "(NAME)!"

There was no response from you.

You didn't move.

He placed his ear on your chest, searching frantically for the sound of your heart. He almost gave up, when he heard it. It was very faint, scary faint, and dull. It was barely there.

What had done this to you? Whatever it was, it was incurring Zoro's wrath. He felt an unstable fury build up inside him, anger like nothing he'd felt before ready to consume him. He looked around, desperate to find the cause of your injury and kill it. That would maybe make him feel a bit better - and distract him from the fact that you were half-dead on the floor.

"Z-Zoro?"

Your weak voice caught his attention immediately, and he felt relieved. He turned to you, immediately scooping you up and dragging you onto his lap. He tried not to look at your wound as he removed his shirt, ripped it open and tied it around your waist to at least staunch the bleeding a little.

"Don't talk," was his response, his voice a little higher than it usually was. He was avoiding your gaze, unable to meet your eyes.

This was his fault.

He quietly rose to his feet, bringing your weakened - and, alarmingly, paling - body with him. He held you close, one arm hooked under your knees and the other under your back. He positioned your head on his shoulder, and ran all the way back to the village with you in his arms.

The crew met him halfway, Usopp fainting when he saw how much blood there was. Sanji was glowering at Zoro, absolutely furious that he let such a thing happen. Nami was asking a thousand questions at once, questions the swordsman didn't have the answer to. Luffy had gone quiet, not used to seeing his crew in such a panic, and definitely not used to seeing you drenched in so much red.

"Get her back to the ship," the captain finally spoke, surprisingly the only sane one at the moment.

"Excuse me," they were interrupted by the same woman who was talking to Zoro earlier, "We have a healer. It would be quicker to bring her there, and it looks like she needs immediate treatment. Besides, now we can properly thank you for helping us."

Zoro looked away, guilt ripping through him. She was partially the reason you ran off, him being the other part. He didn't want to make an already bad situation worse, but Luffy immediately nodded and told her to lead them to the healer, so Zoro had no choice. The woman offered him a sympathetic smile and tried to touch him, but he shrugged her off angrily. He was mostly angry with himself, for even daring to pull such a stunt.

-

If you had taken her to your ship, she would have succumbed to her injuries.

Those words played on repeat inside Zoro's head, making the swordsman feel helpless for the first time in his life. This evening had been full of firsts for him.

You were okay now, alive and resting. You were still gravely injured, and they were told those three claw marks would leave permanent scars. Zoro had flinched - you would now have a permanent reminder of the night he'd hurt you in the worst possible way. You'd live, but you needed lots of rest, and would probably need to limit your movements for the next few weeks.

"Sanji!"

The swordsman perked up when he hesrd your voice, indicating that you were finally awake, but his heart fell again when he heard you calling for the cook and not him. He supposed he deserved that, but it still stung quite a bit.

Swallowing his pride, he turned to where you were eagerly hugging Sanji, happy to be up on your feet again. Zoro slowly made his way over, guilt filling him again when he saw the way your smile dropped when you looked at him. Another painful sting.

"I'm going to go find Nami, Usopp and Luffy," you decided, looking away from Zoro. You still loved him, but it hurt to look at him right now after what he did.

"I'll help you, you shouldn't even be moving around like this," Sanji gently took hold of you and led you away.

Zoro wanted to protest, wanted to stop you and pull you into HIS arms is HE can guide you around, but you looked so heartbroken because of him he felt too ashamed to act on that thought.

"No, it's okay. Zoro can help me."

"Are you sure?" Sanji asked uncertainly.

"Yes."

He was stunned to hear you say that. His head snapped in your direction, to see you making your way over to him. He thought he might have passed out and was now dreaming when you wrapped your arms around his middle, leaning into him.

In one swift but gentle movement, you were in his arms.

"I'm sorry," his deep voice rumbled in your ears, "I'm so, so sorry." And for the first time ever, his eyes glossed over with tears. "Please forgive me. I don't deserve it, but I'll do anything to earn your forgiveness. Please."

His begging caught you off-guard, but you were too saddened by the way his voice cracked while he was speaking.

"I love you. I promise I'll show it. Please, please give me a chance."

You bit your lip, looking down at your lap and fiddling with the hem of your shirt, "Why did you do it?"

His grip on you tightened, and he let out a shaky breath, "I thought you deserved better than me. I tried to make you hate me so it would hurt less when you found someone else. Because you deserve someone much better than me, and I don't deserve you at all."

"That's not for you to decide," you said quietly.

"I know, I know," he mumbled, ashamed. He couldn't even meet your gaze anymore.

You sighed, making him look at you, "You are the biggest idiot I have ever met, you know. But despite that, I am still madly in love with you. And I forgive you." You kissed his cheek. "Now let's go find the others."

-

A week later, you were still hobbling around the ship like an old lady with a back problem. Much to Zoro's chagrin, as he kept insisting you stay in bed and he'll do whatever you needed to do. The rest of the crew agreed, all of them taking turns to do your chores or help with your duties while you just rested and recovered.

And you know damn well this green-haired man is going to pick you up and take you straight back to bed if he sees you up and about.

"I'm fine!" You protested, when he brought you dinner that night.

He glared at you, "Your blood is still soaking those bandages. You are not fine. Now stay."

You pouted, "I'm not a dog."

He sighed and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead, "Let me take care of you, alright? I have a lot to make up for, and this is just the start."

"No, you don't have anything to make up for," you smiled innocently, tugging him down next to you. "You didn't attack me."

"But I-"

You shut him up with a kiss, "Listen, it's pretty fucking impossible for me to hold a grudge against you, or to even stay mad at you for five seconds. Seeing the look of shame, guilt and regret on your face on the island was enough for me to know that you didn't want any of that to happen. And what's the point of being upset or angry over something that you didn't intend? It's a waste of emotions."

He stared at you in awe, your words striking him deep, "I'm still sorry."

You sighed. You had already long forgiven him, but he had not yet forgiven himself. It was going to take him a while.

-

"Here."

You glanced up from your bed as Zoro walked into the room, holding something out to you. Your eyes lit up when you saw what it was, eagerly taking the book from his hands and shifting into a more comfortable position.

"I figured since you're stuck here for a while, might as well keep you from being bored," he sat down next to you, slowly. "Do you...like it?"

Over the last few days, you had gotten a multitude of gifts from the green-haired swordsman. From handcrafted to store-bought, he had been surprising you almost every day with something new. He was also - very surprisingly - getting along with Sanji, after hearing you ask him to be nice to the cook. It seemed he was pretty serious about proving his love and erasing all trace of that horrible incident from your mind.

"Does it hurt??"

You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Zoro's concerned voice, realising you had started crying. With a shaky laugh, you shook your head no and wiped your eyes - you got as far as two drops before he wiped the rest away.

"No, I'm just...I'm so grateful for you. You've been amazing these last few days, even more so than usual. I just don't know how to thank you, and I'm overwhelmed by how loved I feel right now. I love you. So, so much."

His concern melted away into shyness, the small blush coating his cheeks giving away his embarrassment. He tried to cough awkwardly and play it off, but you knew better. He loved being complimented, he was just too stubborn to show it.

"Love you too. Come here." He got into the bed next to you, pulling you close so you lay on his chest, letting you dive into the book while you rested on him comfortably.

-

His acts of service did not stop.

Even after you were able to walk around with no pain, Zoro was still lifting things out of your hand, carrying them to where they needed to be for you. He was still offering to take your night watch, or any watch, and he was still doing your chores.

Even...dare I say it...washing dishes.

"Here."

Sanji handed him another dish to wipe, just as you walked in. You giggled at the sight, a tiny pink apron draped over your boyfriend's body as he wiped the dishes dry and set them on the rack.

"I see you two are hard at work."

Zoro lit up at the sound of your voice, almost dropping the plate he was wiping. He turned to give you a rare, happy smile, greeting you with a loving gleam in his eyes. You returned the smile and sat at the table, watching them work and thinking about how much you absolutely adored this man.

"I can work now, you know."

"Let me think...no," both he and Sanji said in unison.

You laughed.

[tojivu]

# OFFICE HOURS ‣ GOJO SATORU

✰ — author’s note i feel so guilty bc gojo is literally the only character i write for LOL anyway this is an old draft from months ago. idk why this is so long im so horrendously down bad for this fucking snowman.

✰ — cw / tags arrogant ceo!gojo x secretary f!reader, sfw, not rly enemies to lovers bc gojo has fat feelings, gojo satoru being a billionaire playboy

✰ — playing death & taxes by daniel caesar.

✰ — word count ~3k LOL

nothing about gojo satoru really strikes you as the serious type.

even in a professional environment, your boss always has a carefree demeanour. his laugh is so nauseatingly loud that you can hear it from outside the office, and you wonder how someone as busy as him manages through his day; much less with a positive attitude. you take one look at his schedule, and you want to vomit with the way you hardly see any gaps between appointments.

you suppose you could learn that from him. it's his only good quality.

you admit that he's likeable, on surface level. there's a reason why you detest him, though: as his closest colleague, you know him way more than you would prefer. most people would think such a well to do man like satoru would have a wife by his side, but that's unfortunately not the case. you almost feel more miserable than him—because now you're forced to be the listening ear and comforting hand at his beck and call.

you think he'd be just fine if he was just a little more humble. he has a nice face. it's his fault for being so stuck up. you know how many women ask him out—painfully aware, actually.

'they just aren't suited to my taste,' he would say to you. 'i need someone that makes me feel alive.'

one time, gojo even asked you to bail him out of a date—something about the way she held her fork and knife disturbed him, and you were expected to show up at the restaurant and act as if there was an emergency.

'i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i have to go, duty calls.' his disgustingly charming tone made you want to slap him then and there.

she called him again the following week, and he completely forgot who she was. he didn't even save her number.

the sheer number of people asking him out had stroked his ego so hard that gojo firmly believes no woman is deserving enough. he rambles on and on to you about how snobby some of them seem, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue when he does. 'takes one to know one,' you would say, if not for your job at stake.

you think gojo satoru is full of himself. you are a strong believer of that. a witness, as well—it's not like he didn't try his way with you, too. unlike the women he ranted about, you turned him down every single time.

it's been a long while since any of that has happened, though. the most recent ordeal was months ago, but that didn't inherently mean that people stopped asking him out: it just meant that he was rejecting every single offer.

it's a thursday morning when you find yourself eating a sandwich you purchased on the way to work, at your desk—wondering when the big boss will finally arrive. the clock read 9 a.m., and you're expecting an extravagant "good morning!" to surprise you any moment now.

just then, you notice mr. conceited walk in: except something is different. he has no stride in his step. there was no good morning. there was no playful teasing directed at you as he walked past your desk and into his office, not that you were complaining—it was just strange.

you stand up, a mouthful of your sandwich still being chewed. you take a big sip of water and fix your skirt and blouse, making sure your hair is presentable—before swiftly making your way into his office.

──────

"i cannot believe this." he mumbles. you're standing in front of his desk, but he's not facing your direction.

gojo's chair is turned to the giant window that overlooks the business district, and he's gazing out of it thoughtfully. you think this is the cheesiest thing you've seen him do.

you can see how disheveled his hair was, even from where you were standing. you don't want to irritate him further, in case teasing you was still on his to-do list that day.

"what is it, mr. gojo?"

he swivels his chair around, and he is a mess—just what could have he been up to?

"i woke up late today."

"you're the boss, mr. gojo. you can come in any time you want—"

"not the point." he interrupts you. "i forgot my lunch. i was in the car, with the driver, on the way here already. . . and then i realised i left my donuts at home."

gojo's face is absolutely distraught. he looks like he's gone through a divorce and had his house set on fire with how he stands up dramatically—his hands now on his desk. you open your mouth to speak, but he shuts you up by talking again.

"i didn't want to inconvenience him. i'm too thoughtful, miss y/n."

you want to scoff, but you bite your tongue and hold back.

"so i got out of the car and ran back for it," gojo recounts. "i arrived home after the treacherous journey—only to discover that my donuts are gone."

you feign an expression of shock, just to humour him; he gives you an 'i know right' look, and continues his nonsensical story.

"the maids threw them away, miss y/n."

you can't help yourself: you let a small giggle slip through your lips. you quickly use your hand to cover your mouth, thinking of a quick excuse.

you cough. you pretend to, at least—but gojo satoru is not stupid.

no, maybe a little. though, not enough to be convinced of your terrible acting.

"nothing about this is funny."

you nod, looking down at the floor. "i apologise, mr. gojo, but it's just a few donuts. i'm sure someone in the office could fetch some for you."

"yes, i agree." he says, and you shift your gaze from the marble tiling of his office to his face. his hair is a mess, yes—but he still looks revoltingly handsome. his eyes are piercing through yours, and pieces of hair cover his face in just the right places.

you're staring a little too long and gojo finds his pulse quickening with the eye contact—but the spell he has you under is soon broken when he clears his throat.

you quickly look away, embarrassed that you were caught staring at your boss, by your boss.

"you'll pick some up for me, yeah?" his smooth and silky voice echoes through the empty space of his office.

you look at him again, and there's a gentle smile on his face; one you're all too familiar with.

you're aware of satoru's charismatic nature, his playboy-ish attitude, and all sorts of tricks he uses to make women fall head over heels for him. that didn't mean you were completely resistant to them, though—you find yourself playing with the sleeves of your blouse, your ears beginning to redden. "of course," is all you manage to say.

at least you were self-aware.

your mind was rational. should gojo satoru try to hit on you for the nth time—all it took was some self discipline to say no, and you'd like to think you had plenty.

you think the conversation is done with the way he doesn't speak another word, so you turn on your heels and make your way out of the office.

just as you touch the handle of the door, your boss adds: "i'll come with you."

you turn back to him, confused. you didn't need your boss babysitting you for a donut run, you knew his favourite flavours—it's all he ever insists on buying for lunch. "there's no need for that, mr. gojo."

satoru shakes his head in disapproval. "you don't even know my favourite flavours, miss y/n."

that was a blatant lie. he knew you knew. you were his personal donut grabber for a few months up until august, and it was only october. you suppose that it would've continued on if not for your complaints about the long lines in the morning.

nevertheless, you don't argue with him. gojo satoru was the type to get what he wants, when he wants, if he really wants it.

you smile at his disregard for the months you spent as his errand runner, and how idiotic the excuse he just used was. satoru knows he's lying through his teeth, and your smile makes him more nervous than your eye contact.

so nervous, in fact, that he takes back what he just said. "unless. . . you're fine by yourself."

you're surprised that gojo's confidence is dissipating, or that it could even fade at all. you can tell with the way he's avoiding your eye contact, exactly how you evaded his earlier—the red on the tips of his ears are much too obvious in contrast to his hair.

"i don't mind," you respond a bit too quicker than appropriate. "mr. gojo."

gojo curses himself mentally, thinking about how stupid he must sound. he's usually the one making people nervous, but he doesn't know why it's different when you look at him like that.

──────

the atmosphere is deafening in gojo's favourite bakery. you always knew he had a sweet tooth, so you expected his choice to be a spectacular one—and you weren't disappointed.

you had personally visited this bakeshop before, and the confectionery was truly as good as people made it out to be; it proved evident in the amount of people crammed into this small establishment. though, you can't tell if it was for the food or for your boss, with the way most pairs of eyes are turned in his direction.

you two spend a good five seconds looking at the menu before gojo states his order, which was exactly what you thought it would be—the lady at the cashier smiles a bit too long at satoru, before asking: "eating in?"

you want to open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it. "of course."

it was still very well your work day. he (or maybe you and him, considering you helped him plan seventy percent of his appointments) had a meeting in 3 hours to prepare for. you think this donut adventure is already unnecessary enough—but here he is, suggesting to waste even more time eating the donuts in the bakery itself.

"we have a meeting in a bit, though. you could eat it in your office."

he looks at you with a confused look, as if he forgot that there was a meeting at all—because he did forget. gojo gasps, turning back to the lady and retracting his previous statement.

──────

gojo eats his donuts agonisingly slow and no conversation is initiated.

you're alternating between staring at both your laptops and the swirls on the wooden desk, unable to say anything because you didn't plan for such an occasion: an eating donuts with your admittedly handsome boss that makes you nervous while simultaneously planning for an important meeting occasion.

"miss y/n, you should try some."

you shift your eyes from the table to gojo, and he's holding a small piece of his donut to your lips: the powdered sugar practically calling your name.

"it's fine, i ate earlier," you decline his generous offer. "you should eat."

"i'm not asking you to eat all of them, miss y/n." he smiles at you. "just a bite. it's really good, y'know."

you sigh, reaching for his hand to take it from him—but he swiftly pulls it away and shakes his head. "open your mouth."

you feel the tips of your ears burning, blood rushing to your cheeks and you wonder how the girls he takes out manage themselves when he's like this—you've worked with him for so long, yet you can't recall a time when his gaze wouldn't make you shudder.

you think you'd stutter if you spoke one more word to him, so you save yourself from the embarrassment and bare with his request.

he feeds you the piece of sugar-coated donut, and you're sure you have powder on the corners of your lips with how it's width barely fits into your mouth.

you chew and swallow, feeling the residue of sugar on your skin.

"do you have any tissues?" you ask him, a serious expression plastered onto your face.

gojo tries to suppress the chuckle itching to escape his throat—the sugar on your lips and cheeks catch him off guard, and after a few seconds he can't help but let a small laugh slip. you stand up from your chair, scanning the room for any boxes of tissues you could lay your hands on.

he stands up as well, shaking his head—still giggling.

"it's not funny," you frown, and the smile on his face only grows wider—you're too cute for your own good when you sulk. "stop laughing."

you're not sure if you want to punch him or let him giggle to himself. for some reason, seeing you embarrassed is a great cause of joy to him. you can't bring yourself to tell him to shut up; you always imagine doing just that, it's strange how you couldn't muster the courage just when you needed it most.

"it's quite funny," gojo's laughter eventually calms down.

he leans closer to you and his right hand gently holds the side of your jaw—he uses his thumb to gently wipe the sugar off your cheek, and then your lips. "i got it."

his thumb stays on your bottom lip after dusting the sugar away. his pupils are locked onto the surface of your lips, which were glossy in the harsh light of his office: they looked so soft.

before long, they trail up your face until he's looking directly into your eyes: and this time you're not nervous, you don't look away, and your heart is completely calm.

satoru's fingers are easy on your skin. he handles you like fragile glass, as if he doesn't want to break you: and it's the same for the way he looks at you. gentle.

you're reluctant to speak because the way satoru has his thumb on your bottom lip sends shivers down your spine. you feel breathless.

you don't want this feeling to leave, not just yet.

a few seconds of tension pass. his hand moves back to your jaw, and your nervousness returns when gojo satoru leans his tall figure even closer to you; his head tilting ever so slightly.

it's a random thursday morning when you discover a few more good qualities gojo satoru possesses: his lips and his hands. maybe the way he kisses, too—it's slow and precise, unlike his attitude. he tastes sickeningly sweet and it makes you want to savour this moment even more.

you promised yourself you wouldn't fall victim to gojo satoru. yet, you just can't pull away: instead finding yourself slithering your arms around his neck and your chest pressing against his.

gojo's hands are wandering down to your waist and he's desperate to have you as close to him as possible, showing in the way he tries to close the already small gap between you two.

it takes only a fraction of a second for a small thought to form in your mind: just how many women have been in this position?

you quickly forget about that thought, though—you think it's pointless to regret it now, gojo satoru kisses you too good to be full of remorse.

gojo thinks he could stay like this: kiss you all morning, afternoon and pay you overtime if it meant he could be this close to you for just a bit longer.

there's hints of neediness in gojo's touch—as if he'd been waiting for this forever, wanting to relish it before it ends. his few seconds of bliss don’t last very long though, because you're soon pulling away—gasping for air.

he sighs mockingly, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips. "can't last longer than 10 seconds, miss y/n?"

of course he would say some cocky shit like that—you'd forgotten for a minute that this was the same, arrogant mr. gojo you always knew, and no kiss (however heavenly) was going to change that.

"i'm sorry that i don't go on dates with every man that breathes."

gojo smirks at you after you say those words. "come on. just because i go on dates with people, doesn't mean i kiss them like this."

"sure you don't." your jealousy shows a bit too much in your reply, and he finds himself smiling even harder.

"is someone jealous?" he teases you again, rubbing circles with his thumb against the flesh of your hips.

you feel flustered, knowing that you're definitely done for now—he saw right through you. "nobody is jealous, mr. gojo."

"stop it with the formality. just call me satoru."

"it's still office hours. it's only polite."

gojo rolls his eyes, sighing in the process. you grin a little at him, knowing that this was the first thing you denied him of today—complying with the donuts and the kissing was already spoiling him enough.

"then i suppose there's only after work," there's his nauseatingly charming voice again—low and smooth. he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and you know it too. "i'm off after 6."

you think long and hard about whether you want to be mean and add this to the list of things you've declined to do for him. the ratio was starting to get really unbalanced—but you remember the way his hands touch you and how his lips greet yours so lovingly: and you think that there's no point turning back now.

"my boss doesn't let me off until after 8, though." you try to poke at his buttons—you put on a fake pout, knowing you’ll accept his invitation anyway—but gojo satoru is eternally patient when it came to things he sincerely desired.

"fuck your boss." he says, "he'll be fine with it."

you laugh at his response. you never thought you would see the day gojo curses at himself, after all, he's so self-obsessed: but you suppose you've seen—and tasted—parts of him that you never knew existed.

"then i'll see you at 6, mr. gojo."

what was the harm in discovering more?

230323 — i kinda hate this but.. wtv… anyway i couldn’t be bothered to proofread have my brainrot of gojo in a suit Mmmm yumyum

[spiteful-lvsts]

•And I’m The Perfect Sacrifice•

• Final Guy!Reader x Slasher!Dottore

• AMAB Top!Reader x Bottom!Dottore

• Summary: In a turn of events, you find your cabin trip ambushed by a masked killer, and you remain as the final survivor.

• Warnings/Content: modern/college au?, dottore is referred to as zandik, mentioned violence and deaths, unsanitary (blood as lube), wound fingering, slight orgasm denial, slight dacryphilia, body worship, both reader and dotts are kinda deranged, porn with feelings?, hurt/comfort?, masochist!dottore

• Notes: whoops too many dottie drafts, this is partially inspired by final girl by graveyardguy, technically webttore? i think his mask would fit more than the bird one

The killer is pinned beneath you, held down by your weight, arms restrained above his head. The stench of iron is prevalent, a reminder of what happened, of the corpses that lay just inside the room. You could kill him now, injured as he was from your earlier scuffle.

And yet, you can’t. You won’t.

Because you knew him. Knew his face, despite the mask, despite of the blood and viscera painting him now. And oh, how you’ve missed him, that some part of you ached to devour him whole.

“Zandik,” you softly murmur, “Oh Zandik, where have you been?” He’d been missing for months, since his home burned down. Only to show up now.

He squirmed underneath you, a halfhearted escape attempt at best. “Don’t act like you suddenly fucking care again,” Zandik grit out, red eyes flickering between you and the window. “You didn’t look for me.”

Frowning, you reached up, fingertips skimming the edge of his mask, feeling him flinch. “...Not by choice.” You only say, like it’s a quiet, mournful thing.

There’s no rebuttal from him, so you continue. “Then, won’t you at least let me see your face? It’s been so long,” your fingers trace the leather straps connecting the mask, “I’ve missed you, Zandik.”

“...You won’t like what you’ll see,” He protests weakly, but it’s not a direct refusal. “I’ve changed, I’m not the same person you knew before.”

“I loved you then, I love you even now.” Your voice is soft, reverent even. And Zandik trembles at your admission, averting his gaze. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. It was supposed to be just simple, petty revenge, for what happened to him at the Akademiya.

And yet, you were an outlier. As you always were. He didn’t expect you to be here, of all places, and a part of him seethed when he first saw you tonight. Thinking you had replaced him, so easily, so quickly.

A warm touch breaks him out of his reverie, your hand gentle upon his face, as you waited for him to answer. Ironically, Zandik can’t find it in him to truly hate you, not when you’re like this. Still covered in drying blood, eyes full of worry for him, despite knowing what he did.

So he answers you, not verbally, still he twists his neck and head to bare you his throat. The metal clasps gleam in the moonlight. An implicit invitation.

Two sharp clicks echo in the room, barely undercutting the tension. Zandik can’t bare to look at you as you discard his mask, eyes and hands clenched shut as he awaited your judgement. Something sour in him curdles at the thought of being rejected by you, he’d never been one for other’s opinions, but when it was you...

Instead your warmth remains, letting him lean into your touch. Eyes fluttering open to meet yours, “There you are,” your hands cup his face, thumb brushing over still-tender scar tissue, and he has to suppress a whine at its sensitivity. You were always so damnably gentle to him.

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper again, earnest as you always were. Even now, even splattered in blood and gore, what remained of the rest. Zandik realizes then, that even if the world shuns him, condemns him a sinner, that he loves you.

“...I’ve missed you too.” His voice is quiet, smaller than he’s ever been. Suspended in this fragile tension, he can’t help relaxing just the smallest bit in your presence. No longer restrained, he was sure if he ran, you’d let him. Though some small part of him wanted you to follow him.

In the (almost) comfortable silence, his gaze slides over to the corpse in the room. Their eyes clouded over, frozen in fear during their last moments. In truth, whoever they were didn’t matter, what mattered was that they had to suffer for what they did to him.

Why did they get to live, unmarred by the consequences of their actions. Going about their days as if they weren’t as bad as he was. Zandik’s hand twitched, thoughts spiraling as rage threatened to bubble over. You were part of this trip, weren’t you? Were you going to betray hurt him, as they did?

He wants to— needs to ask, were you still lying to him? He wants to believe you, he really did, but some traitorous part of him still doubts your sincerity. “Why were you here in the first place?”

A dark expression flashed by your face, yet as quickly as it came, it was gone. “Same reason as you, I’d think.” You smile, sharp and dangerous, with a hint of teeth. And Zandik swallows, throat bobbing as heat pools in his gut. Anger dissipating at your statement.

Between the two of you, you had always been the kinder of pair. But oh, Zandik was quickly finding out how much he enjoyed this more... dangerous, side of yours. He can’t help the flush crawling up his neck, across his face to the tips of his ears.

Against all rational thought, Zandik finds himself grabbing the front of your shirt, pulling you closer to him. Your lips come together clumsily, messily, the taste of iron shared between you as his sharp teeth clips your lip. Zandik relishes the noise of surprise you make, even as you wrench control from him, drawing a whine from him as your tongue traces the inside of his mouth.

When you pull back, he’s panting, dazed and breathless. “Please,” Zandik breathes out, already half-hard as you gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. Hands gripping your shirt tighter, unsure what to do with himself.

You blink, slow and languid, “Here? Now?” Your voice is quiet, but it leaves him trembling as he nodded. The ache to devour him is back, laid beneath you as he is now, and you can’t deny how much you wanted Zandik as well.

Your clothes were almost an afterthought, torn off of each other in the throes of passion. Though, in all honesty they were probably unsalvageable, from your previous altercation and all.

The low light obscured many things, but here, exposed only to you, Zandik was the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen. Scars and all, as your fingers trace the burns covering his body. Perhaps sometime later, you could really take the time to appreciate all of him, this desolate cabin hardly seemed appropriate for the task.

A shock of pain shoots through him when your fingers accidentally dig against the gouges in his side, reopening the wounds. Something electric sparks through Zandik as his mouth falls open in a startled moan. Maybe it was from delirium, or blood loss, or both, but his cock throbs at the feeling.

Startling at the noise, you almost began to ask if he was okay. Only to be cut off, “Do that again.” He orders, and he sounds... not hurt, or mad, more curious than anything. It’s not like you didn’t notice the effect it had on him either, with how hard he was pressed against you.

So you comply, not that you could’ve denied him anything, and oh, how lovely he looked as his spine arched. Hips twitching in search for friction. Your name, a bitten off whimper- a plea on Zandik’s lips as he squeezed his eyes shut from the pain, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

His blood coats your fingers, warm and wet, he doesn’t ask for you to stop, even as your nails dig into him. You swallow the saliva gathering in your mouth, briefly tucking your face against his neck, you could hear Zandik’s heart hammering in his chest.

“D’you think you could cum from this?” You murmur, more of a joke than anything but at they way he whined, well, maybe you weren’t too far off.

When you pull your fingers from the wounds, it was almost cute how he glared at you, whatever impact it would’ve had was lessened from the beading tears and the flush across his face. “I didn’t tell you to stop—” he begins to complain, after all, he’d been so close before you stopped. But quieting when you press a kiss to his lips, unbearably soft in comparison.

Your bloodied hand trails down his body, leaving a streak of red, stopping when your fingers just barely tease his hole. “Wouldn’t you prefer to cum from this instead?” You ask, and Zandik shivers from your tone, eyes flickering to your neglected member, precum smeared against his thigh. Blood wouldn’t be nearly enough to ease the burn, but something in him craves it.

“Please,” his voice cracks, and the sheer want in his voice makes the heat in your gut intensify, “Make me yours, need them all to know you’re mine.”

The stretch burns, blood-slick on your fingers barely soothing it. Regardless of the pain, Zandik relishes in it, a choked moan making its way out of his throat when your fingers crook in just the right way for him to see stars. You work him open with a tender patience, in contrast to his own impatience, rocking his hips down into your hand.

Pain and pleasure mix into something intoxication, his mind growing muddled from the ministrations of your fingers, and the sweet nothings whispered to him. Still you remain an infuriating tease, despite the tenderness. Just barely brushing against his prostate with each movement of your fingers, not quite enough for him, but just enough to leave him yearning for more.

His dick was hard and useless, leaking pre onto his abdomen at each movement. “Hngh-! Would you j-just get on with it alreaDY—!!” Zandik’s complaint turns into a shriek at a particularly harsh jab from you, his walls clamping around your fingers at the rough treatment.

You rub soothing circles into his uninjured side, murmuring sweet nothings to him, even as your hand doesn’t stop moving. “Mm, I promise I’ll make you feel good soon. You can hold out for me a little longer, can’t you darling?”

And you sound about as earnest as you always were. Even with that playful lilt in your voice, even as you looked down at him with an expression full of love and lust.

All Zandik can do is let it happen, head lolling back as he surrenders to your whims. All too aware of your ministrations, the kisses peppered against his skin. The promise of something more the only thing keeping him from losing his mind fully.

Logically only a few minutes at most would’ve passed, but with how high-strung he was, it felt like hours to him. When you finally pull out your fingers, it was almost a relief. But it left him so achingly empty.

All his thoughts had faded into a pleasant buzz while you toyed with him, only to be brought back into focus at the feeling of your cockhead prodding at his entrance. At some point Zandik found himself wrapping his legs around your waist, an attempt to drag you closer into him, to fill that aching emptiness. His own arms winded around your shoulders, nails digging into your back as he anticipated what was to come.

It hurts when you finally push in, no amount of preparation could’ve prepared him for it, even with the aid of his own blood. Still he can’t help but crave more of it, rocking his hips against yours, urging you deeper. “Hah-! Mngh-” his breathing comes out short and uneven, already drooling from just this, “T-too mu-aH-!” His body jerks when your hand suddenly wraps around his length, blood and pre mixing, leaving caught between two points of pleasure.

You kiss away the tears falling down his face, letting him whine and gasp as you trailed kisses down his jawbone, to his neck and collar. “You’re doing so well for me...” you murmured against him, mouthing along his skin, hand slowly pumping his dick in tandem with your movements.

Zandik keens when you bottom out, your hips flush against his ass, your cock a searing heat inside him. Through the tears gathering at his lash line, he could see how well you filled him out, how his stomach bulged from your size.

Perhaps some other time you two could be gentle with each other, to be as lovers were, but tonight there was only an animal need for more. Case-in-point, the way Zandik squirmed impatiently, whining cutely for you to move already, sharp teeth worrying his bottom lip.

It’s not as if you were unaffected either. The way his walls fluttered around you, all warm and tight. Squeezing just the slightest tighter whenever you nipped at his skin.

Regardless, who were you to deny him? With how pretty he was under you, oh he was gorgeous objectively and to you, but the image of Zandik all flushed and teary eyed? You just wanted to ruin him.

The drag is a painful, pleasurable burn as you pulled out. Tip just barely remaining inside him, before you snapped your hips forward, drawing out a choked off scream from him. Eyes rolling back and body spasming, mouth falling open into an ‘o’.

Angry red lines bloom across your back, Zandik’s hips bucking in response to your ruthless pace, sobbing with every well-placed thrust against his abused prostate. You only pull him closer to you, fucking deeper into him, nails digging into the gash in his side as you gripped his waist. The pain shooting straight to his dick and the part of his brain that left him pleading for ‘Gngh! More- moremoremorepLEASE-!’

He’s half delirious from blood loss and arousal, only able to focus on how full he was, drool dribbling down the side of his mouth. Obscene noises echo throughout the room, the sounds of your groaning and Zandik’s whines intermingling. Your own noises were muffled against his body, teeth itching to bite down, whatever remaining self-control you still had waning.

You’ve said it before but god, you loved him, and what was love to you but a desire to consume? And Zandik was baring his neck to you, oh so lovingly.

Your teeth close around the junction between his neck and his shoulder, relishing the way he wailed, how his nails dug painfully into your back. The taste of iron fills your mouth as skin splits under your incisors, sweeter than any honey.

It was just too much for him, the feeling of your hand on him, the shock of pain flooding his system, just you you youyouyou-!

His climax hits him unexpectedly, vision briefly whiting out from the intensity. Hips bucking as he came, ropes of white cum splattering across his abdomen and between your fingers. Your thrusts don’t stop, and neither does your hand, intent on milking him dry.

Zandik sobs through his orgasm, thighs trembling even as they weakly tightened around your waist, fat tears following down his face. Barely registering your tongue laving across the bite, an apology of sorts, not that he minded it. His dick twitches in your hand, painfully sensitive to your touch.

You weren’t far from your own climax either, pace growing erratic inside him, his walls a vice around your throbbing cock. All you could think about was how good he felt. Your hands move to grip his waist, hold practically bruising as you rutted into him, a familiar heat pooling in your gut.

A couple more thrusts before your hips stutter to a stop, flush against Zandik’s body. He moans at the warmth filling him, spreading through him, as you came inside of him. You practically collapse on top of him at the end, the both of you sweaty and gross, but satisfied nonetheless.

When you try to pull out, he shakes his head, tugging you closer. “N-not yet,” he slurs, “Wanna keep you inside, don’t wanna go yet-” babbling something incoherent as his arms wrap around you again.

How cute, you press a kiss against the side of his mouth, sweet and tender. “Alright, ‘m not going anywhere,” you murmur, voice low, making him shiver, “I’m not leaving you again.” You capture his lips again, and he opens his mouth obediently, whimpers muffled against your mouth.

Zandik can taste blood on your lips and tongue, his blood, and he can’t help himself feeling warm all over again. Dazed as he was, he can’t help grinning maniacally against you.

In the morning, or maybe just later, you two would have enough to talk about. Plans to run away, cleaning up any evidence of yourselves from the cabin, packing up your belongings, the works. But for now, you two can just indulge in a moment of intimate quiet with each other.

Perhaps in a week, or maybe more than that, the authorities would be called regarding a missing persons case, students of a prestigious university. The case will go cold, from lack of evidence, and it’ll become its own local legend. How a party of students died mysteriously one night, no trace of another person or anything of that sort, despite obvious foul play.

Some would wonder how it led to the incident, after all the cabin was well maintained, despite its remoteness. It was unlikely for its utilities to break. As far as anyone knew, none of the students tried to call for help that night, or even tried to leave. Theories are made, yet no answers are to be found.

But ah... if the phone lines were cut even before the killer was there, or if the car driven into the woods had its tires slashed in the dead of night? If the doors were conveniently unlocked?

Well, that’s between you and Dottore.

[magicshopaholic]

Thinking of You (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Dilara has a nightmare.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst

Word count: 1.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mentions of war, blood

A/N: Short, but... well, not sweet. Probably not what you're expecting. Takes place almost two years after A Stormy Night.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet @jihopesjoint (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "thinking of you" by katy perry

taehyung masterlist| main masterlist

Dilara wakes up in a cold sweat, her heart beating a mile a minute. The dream was vivid, like a 4D movie where she couldn't run out of the theatre. She closes her eyes again, snapping them open a moment later when the image behind her eyelids stay the same: a broken body, camouflaged comrades, smoke and patches of fire, and death. Everywhere.

She doesn’t know where the images came from; probably a combination of the handful of war movies she's seen her entire life. But the faces weren't from the movies. They were familiar; achingly, heartbreakingly familiar, enough that the thought of them once again makes her stomach churn painfully. A moment later, she stumbles out of her bed and runs to the bathroom where she falls to her knees and vomits into the toilet.

Her throat burns as she stays there for a few more seconds before slowly standing up, feeling unsteady. Reaching in the dark for her toothbrush, she brushes her teeth in the darkness as she waits for her heartbeat to go back to normal. It doesn’t, not really. Her feet don’t move towards the door either. Giving up without much of a fight, she slides down to the floor with her back against the door, all vestiges of sleep gone.

This nightmare was a new one. Dilara is prone to them in general, especially when she’s stressed. More often than not, they’re related to whatever she’s stressed about: a bad chemistry exam, getting rejected by Red Bull, crashing out and getting buried under the wreckage of her car. After the conversation she'd had with Kaya yesterday where the older girl had revealed how Namjoon was doing in the military, Dilara's thoughts had started wandering. That, coupled with what she'd overheard at the Red Bull office later in the day ("They're at war - it's nuclear now.") makes it clear what caused tonight's horrifying dream.

Of course, the "war" was figurative, referring to a Red Bull and Mercedes battle at a critical point of the season. But the direction her thoughts had gone in by default are more telling than the nightmare before she remembers that if North Korea had truly gone back on their ceasefire, it would be international news being broadcasted in every corner of the world.

Right now, she feels suffocated. She places her palms on the cold floor, trying to focus on the feel of the tile and cool her sweaty hands as she thinks of the only person in the world who can make her feel better, and her heart clenches. Kaya is lucky, she thinks, so lucky that she can contact her boyfriend whenever she wants and at least expect a response as soon as possible. Namjoon loves her, adores her, cherishes her; so much so that even halfway across the world from his girlfriend, stashed in the barracks of wherever he’s stationed, he would do everything in his power to reassure her of that fact, and that he’s safe.

Dilara herself could expect no such thing from Taehyung, though, especially since it’s now nearly two months since they last had any contact whatsoever. She tries not to think about that; it hurts too much. There were multiple messages she'd begun drafting, each a variation of the few things she desperately wanted to say. Are you okay? What's happening with you? Do you think about me at all?

But none of these are questions he wants to hear, much less answer. His monosyllabic responses, abrupt goodbyes and deliberate omission of his visit to Seoul had been enough to give her an idea of how he was dealing with their break-up and the last thing she wants to do is reopen old wounds at a time when fixing them would be near impossible.

Dilara drops her head on her knees, shoulders shaking with emotion. It isn’t the first time they’ve been apart. Being separated from him in another timezone was an unfortunate reality of a long distance relationship, common enough that she'd slowly and agonizingly gotten somewhat used to it. It was never ideal, but she could picture him at least: warming up in the dance studio, peering into the pot as his ramen cooked, swaying to an old Dave Brubeck number as he stepped out of the shower, hair wet and droplets glistening on his shoulders and back.

Now, there is nothing. He can’t share pictures, there are none online, and she hasn’t the faintest idea what South Korean military barracks even look like. She doesn’t know what he does on a daily basis, what branch he’s serving in, what he wears, what he eats, what his hair looks like, whether he's put on or lost weight, or how often he shaves his stubble. Everything is left to the imagination… and her imagination is a dangerous place to be in.

A sound interrupts her thoughts and she gasps, her heart jolting dangerously. Her first thought is gunshot, before it happens again, slightly louder this time but clearer. Someone is knocking on the door.

"Dilara?" A pause. "You okay, babe?"

Despite the genuine concern and sleepy affection in his voice, she cringes. It’s not the voice she wants to hear; in fact, for a few minutes there, she'd forgotten about him altogether. Kim Taehyung was taking up every thought, especially during the defenseless hours of sleep, and the image of him bloodied and broken was too much to bear. Swallowing a dry sob, she answers her boyfriend.

"Yeah." A breath. "Yeah, I'm fine. Be out in a minute."

Dilara can still hear him out there. She pictures him with difficulty; a frown under his black hair, grown long over the last few weeks, one hand in the pocket of his shorts, an old blue t-shirt. No, brown. She can’t remember. Eventually she hears his footsteps retreat softly and she exhales shakily.

She can’t stay here forever. There’s comfort in it, no doubt, but it’s lingering, fleeting. She climbs to her feet, swaying for a moment, before quietly turning the doorknob and silently treading back to her bed. Feeling for the curtains in the darkness, she slides them open halfway, letting the dim, silvery moonlight fall into the bedroom as she shuffles underneath her covers and curls onto her side.

From behind her, an arm appears to pull her close, a few of the tattoos around his wrist coming into focus in the light. Dilara hesitates, for it feels uncomfortably heavy, but then reaches up to hold his hand loosely, hoping it will ground her to reality.

He shifts slightly. “Everything okay?” he mumbles.

“Mhm.” She nods, parts of the dream already fading from memory. But not all. Never all.

“Jet lagged?” he asks, his voice a bit clearer this time. “Or ready to hit the gym already?”

That makes her chuckle half-heartedly. “Not for a couple hours at least.”

“Good.” He sighs and settles in more comfortably. “Night, Dilara.”

“Night, James.”

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

[shewrites444]

unexpected - part 1 & 2 [ xavier thorpe x reader]

[ i’m alive! i haven’t posted in ages and i’m terribly sorry. i’ve had this in my drafts for awhile and finally finished it up. it's a part 1 and 2 that just made sense to put in the same post. ]

word count - 5.5k

[ summary - the reader and xavier have despised each other for years, but when she discovers his unexpected attraction to her after being a bit too nosy, their dynamic takes a complete turn. ]

[ warnings - enemies to lovers, angst/jealousy, swearing, dirty talk, oral (f), unprotected sex, bit of degrading. ]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁part 1 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

i was never a big fan of school dances, especially the kind where wednesday addams stole the show for wearing all black, despite that being typical of her, so i didn't really understand what the surprise was for. i had always been fairly close to enid, but when wednesday transfered to nevermore, our friendship diminished in some ways, but i wasn't drastically devastated or anything - i needed to focus on my education anyway. despite my new and improved academic achievements, enid managed to convince me to come to the r'aven, which i did solo, contrary to the norms at nevermore to never attend such a large event alone.

"she looks gorgeous, don't you think?" enid said next to me, a bit of excitement and pride in her voice as she clutched tighter on her glass of punch, watching the black haired girl walk in with tyler, a blank expression on her face.

i shrugged lightly, taking a sip of my drink as i leaned against the empty chair in front of me. "i mean, she's okay." i said plainly. i didn't even mean it out of jealousy or spite, i really didn't view wednesday to be as unique as she was painted to be by people like.. him, yeah, xavier thorpe.

i thought of xavier because as enid spoke in return to my dry comment, i saw the boy staring at wednesday with a bit of disgust, probably at her date, and also with himself. i would hope that was for being so obsessed with someone who never even returned his way-too-obvious feelings, but who was i to mindread?

i laughed lightly, nudging enid to look in xavier's direction, bianca's expression dropping to clear aggravation and jealousy as she watched her date's face. "why do you think she came with him when she probably knew he was going to react like this?"

enid shook her head, frowning a bit. "i don't think she thought about it like that at all. maybe she thought they would get back together."

"yeah, right." i set my glass down on the white table. "xavier has been mentally dick-riding wednesday since she got here. he wants what he can't have like most guys."

"then why doesn't he want you?" enid asked, giggling as she nudged me. i rolled my eyes and pushed her with my own shoulder.

i grin, looking over to her. "because he hates me so much he can't physically imagine fucking me. remember, he said that during our game of truth or dare last semester."

"oh, believe me, i'll never forget that." she takes a large sip from her cup, laughing through it. "i can't believe he said that in front of half the grade."

"i can." i smirk, taking her empty cup and grabbing my own off the table. "i'll be back with some more punch."

she nods and mouths a small "thank you" as i walk off, lightly pushing myself through the crowd of students and round tables, until i reach the trash can and the punch table that was next to it. i began to fill enid and i's new cups before i feel a tall, lanky, and, oh, deathly aggravating, presence next to mine.

i sigh, turning my body towards his as i look up at xavier thorpe. "upset about your public rejection?"

he rolls his eyes, grabbing a cup and beginning to fill his own after i step away from the bowl. "at least i have a date. i think you're the only person here who doesn't."

"maybe i'm untouchable." i tease, sipping from my cup and looking down at him while he shoots me a grossed out look as he leaned down to grab bianca a glass. "perhaps i stand out more than wednesday, but you'd probably say that was impossible. delusion does something to a person, i suppose."

he scoffed, leaning up straight and looking down at me, as if i appeared to be lesser than him. "you're a real asshole, [y/n]. you know that, right?"

i shrug, clearly unbothered by his comment. "it's my best trait."

walking back to enid, i can hear xavier's annoyed groan as he heads to the opposite side of the room to meet a very pissed off bianca. i pitied her, but at the same time, she agreed to go with xavier thorpe, so there wasn't much i could validate from that decision.

i noticed enid flirting with her date, so i set her drink down on the table and walked back towards the entry door, slipping through it silently and down the dark hallway that led to the dorms. everyone was occupied, and i didn't mind being left alone for a few minutes anyway. i was never a big fan of loud music, or parties, so it didn't suit me much there - i was mainly more of an emotional support for enid than anything. i didn't mind it much at all, but she was with her date, and i would never complain about some alone time on campus.

i slowly creaked open an empty classroom door, walking into the room full of desks and lab equipment. i quietly turned on the lamp aside the teacher's desk before sitting down. i reached into my pocket to grab a small bottle of vodka before pouring it into my drink. as i lifted it up to my lips, i hear a loud knock on the open door, making my eyes widen and avert to the glass bottle in my hands, which i quickly tossed into the trashcan before looking to who was at the door.

i rolled my eyes as i saw xavier, taking a gulp of the drink, which i quickly realized i needed for this interaction that was about to occur.

"what brings you here? did you think of any insults that pertained to something relevant?" i asked, turning the rolling chair towards him as i cross my ankles. "if so, i'm happy to hear what you've come up with this time."

"shockingly, i've come to ask if you wanted to drink with me, but i see you've already started by yourself." he says, leaning against the door frame, putting his hands in his pockets as he references the trashcan.

i gasp with heavy sarcasm. "me? drink with xavier thorpe?" i grin, standing up. "did bianca say no since you publicly humilated her by drooling over wednesday addams?"

he pursed his lips together as a red tint collected onto his pale cheeks. "no, i didn't ask. she's been ignoring me anyway tonight."

"can't blame her, i must have rubbed off on her." i say, handing him my drink as he very quickly took a sip. i blink a bit in surprise. "are you trying to get fucked up?"

"why would i not?" he said with a bit of a frustrated tone. "i'm not going to act like i don't feel bad for screwing over bianca like this. she fucked me over by using her powers when we were together, but i didn't really plan on being a dick to her tonight, it just happened."

"it just happened." i say in a low voice. "you really need to think things through before you say or do them, xavier thorpe. can't ask someone to go to a dance with you just because your first date ditched you. especially your ex."

he shook his head, handing me back the half-full cup. "what am i even doing talking to you about this shit? whatever." he said, turning to face the door. he seemed embarrassed. "see you."

i stare blankly at his confusing but unsurprising response. it seemed him opening up to me and me not giving him a sympathetic reaction pissed him off, but i don't really know what he was expecting from me in the first place. we hadn’t gotten along for years. truthfully, i couldn’t even pinpoint when our mutual disliking started, but it had always been around.

“you know, i may not be quite fond of you, xavier, but i’m here if you need brutal honesty.” i raise my tone as he walks off, leaving me with no response. i sigh, now a bit embarrassed with myself for displaying a small portion of kindness to him.

i turn around, finishing my drink off and tossing it in the trash before i walk down the hallway, opposite of the dance, back to my dorm room.

as i approach my room, i glance down to see a dorm key on the floor. my brows raise and i lean down, grabbing the metal and reading the side of it. my eyes widen when i see who’s it is. obviously, no other than xavier thorpe's.

“oh, shit.” i mutter.

i wouldn’t act like i wasn’t a nosy person, especially towards my nemesis - of course i’d be going to snoop in his room.

his dorm was a few down from my own. i quietly unlocked the wooden door, sliding myself through the cracked frame and gently shutting it behind me. flipping the dim lights on, i scanned the messy, yet also oddly organized bedroom. given that xavier thorpe was a strange person, at least to me, i very quickly found something interesting. his sketchbook.

i walk towards his desk, picking up the red journal and flipping through it, seeing well drawn pictures of different animals, instruments, nothing interesting.. until, the last few pages, which were not photos, but writing.

as much as she made my blood boil, her fierce personality grew on me, far more than i expected it to as the years went on. the hate i once possessed so deeply was altered into a deep, truly intolerable lust, one that i could never showcase to her, only myself, surrounded by my own walls and left to think of her alone, touching myself to-

my eyes widened and i shut the book, setting it slowly and quietly on the desk, exactly into its original place. good god, who the fuck was xavier writing a-list fanfiction about?

i bit my bottom lip, shaking my head as i glanced back down at the sketchbook. no, i couldn’t keep reading it. as much as i loathed him, this was personal. i would be drastically upset if someone read information of mine so private. it was like my hand was unconsciously gravitating towards the book anyway.

“i’m such an asshole.” i muttered to myself, opening the pages again, and back to where i left off.

her dominant words, her demands for me to fuck her in such an intimate, yet so dirty way that it was almost unimaginable. my body on top of her own, her arms wrapped around my drenched skin as i pushed myself inside of her warm, tight walls, walls that held me inside and possessed me as her own. [y/n]-

“oh, fucking hell..” i whispered with shock, now slamming the book shut and setting it back in place immediately after reading my name in the following sentence.

it was partially horrifying, but also oddly compelling that xavier thorpe, the same person who would probably stomp on my grave, was writing detailed scenarios of us fucking in his spare time. genuinely, i couldn’t wrap my head around it, but i didn’t have much time to regardless, as i noticed on his alarm clock that it was reaching close to midnight, and the r’aven would be over soon.

i turn the lamp off, the room shading itself into darkness immediately, as i walk to the door. my hand reaches to open it, and it instead comes towards me as xavier walks in. my eyes widen in fear, and i freeze up, the key in my hand as xavier flips the lights on, and stares at me, shocked and more confused than anything.

“you.. you took my spare key?” he asked, shutting the door and leaning against it, crossing his arms.

i shake my head, handing it back to him. “no, i found it on the floor.”

“so, you came to my room, rather than give it to me when you found it.” he said, following my explanation. “trying to rob me of everything i’ve got?” he gestures to his closet. “about the most expensive thing i’ve got is a pair of nikes, so have at it.”

i roll my eyes, my face a heated pink, so much so that i could feel it burning on my cheeks. “no, that wasn’t the plan. more curiosity than anything. truthfully, i just wanted to snoop around.”

it seemed the idea of his sketchbook didn’t even cross his mind. “oh? to find what?”

“well, i found some written porn.” i say quite boldly, looking up at him. “on someone very unexpected, actually.”

i watched his expression drop, and he shook his head in what seemed to be more disbelief than anything. it quickly shaped itself into anger, and some embarrassment. “you read my fucking journal?”

“i didn’t mean to.” i cut him off before he could speak any further. “it’s not like i wanted to voluntarily read that.”

“f-fuck..!” he yells, covering his face in embarrassment, the key slipping out of his palm and onto the wooden floor. “oh, god, you’ve got to leave, [y/n]. please leave.”

“will do.” i sigh, awkwardly nodding, and noticing his shaken up stance. “but you are sort of blocking my exit.”

he moves out of the way as i speak, probably the fastest i’ve seen him move in his life. i walk towards the door, reaching to open it, before i stop. i glance up at him.

“can i ask you what provoked such writing about myself before i go? does my hateful nature turn you on? i didn’t mean it to be that way.”

he shook his head, sighing. he looked up, unable to meet our eyes. he bit the inside of his cheek as he thought. “no, i.. i..” he sighed heavily. “you’re unattainable. someone i can’t ever imagine doing such things with for so many different reasons.”

“well, you clearly can’t get with wednesday either but i didn’t see pages of sexual encounters written about her.”

he steps back, shaking his head once again at my comment. “you’re completely different people, [y/n]. it’s not the same.”

“what’s so different?” i ask, now a bit intrigued by the conversation. i lean against the doorframe. “i’m genuinely curious.”

he finally looked at me, his mouth hung open as he stared at me for a moment. “the difference is you’re the only person i’ve ever wanted to fuck but deeply despise at the same time. it confuses me, and i.. i know it’s so weird, but writing about it was the only way i could… uh, process it, i guess.”

oh, god. his words pierced my core. not in the violent, gorish way i’d prefer them to, but rather a more sexual fashion that created a massive disruption in me. the forming wetness between my legs unsettled me.

“you’re right, it’s time for me to go.” i nod, opening the door as i spoke. “goodnight.”

i walk down the hallway, staring at the floor the entire time until i get to my dorm. i could hear him hesitate before shutting his door after he registered the conversation was over.

i shut the door behind me, quickly taking off my dress and setting it on my desk before getting into my bed, bare aside from my underwear, which i was starting to slide off hastily and dropped to the floor. he wouldn’t know of this. he wouldn’t know i wanted it, too, as strange as that seemed to me. it was something i needed to now keep to myself, just as he did previously. this was it, no more than this. one time touching myself to that asshole. one time.

the sensation was so fresh, so hard to grasp that i felt a sense of euphoria wash over my heated body as i closed my eyes, running my fingers down my stomach and to the slit between my legs, sinking myself into the imaginative state i was in as i ran scenarios through my head, consisting of the most unexpected person they could withhold.

one time. i thought again. one time.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ part 2 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

as expected, xavier and i's feud was drastically dialed down after that night. the classes we did have together that we used to bicker in were now silent, which was a weird feeling, but not as weird as what happened last weekend. i tried to black it all out of my head, and i was correct about touching myself to xavier thorpe being a one time affair. at least i held myself accountable for my singular mistake, and didn't make it some sort of off-putting habit.

xavier, on the other hand, seems clearly disturbed by our now lessening exchange of words, even if it was a simple insult shot across biology being absent. i could visibly see it on his face when i walked into the room, his eyes darting down to his textbook, and his lips pursed together in what i would assume to still be fresh embarrassment. i felt bad for him in more ways than one, i would admit. it was his personal thoughts, and i did invade them, but also cut off any further explanation he was going to give me that night.

cutting me out of those overbearing thoughts was the bell for last period, the students at my table scrambling their books into their hands as they rushed out of english. i sighed, slowly standing up and beginning to pack my bookbag. i didn't have any classes for the rest of the day, so it was time for me to head back to my dorm and start working on the paper we just discussed for the past hour and a half that i blacked out of.

"can we talk?" i hear faintly from the side of my desk. i look up to lock eyes with xavier, and my face immediately reddens. i press my lips together and breath lightly out of my nose as i think of how to even respond to his sudden question and frankly, startling presence.

"i don't think you're a creep, if that's what you're wanting to talk to me about." i say honestly, slinging my backpack across my shoulder. "i do think this obviously has created much tension between the two of us that will probably never fade out because of how substantial the situation is, but i think it's for the best, regardless. the semester is almost over an-"

xavier sighs and shakes his head. "no, not that - i mean, i, i agree with that, but i just wanted to explain myself. i don't want the last conversation we ever have to be what we had last weekend."

"understandable." i return. "so, uhm, you can come to my dorm if you'd prefer? this doesn't seem like something appropriate to discuss in the commons. but try to walk a few feet behind me so no one sees us together. bad for our image of hate towards one another."

he sounded relieved that i agreed to talk to him, and let out a small chuckle at my demand. he follows me to my room, with distance as directed, and comes in shortly after i do. i set my room key on my desk before gesturing for him to sit on my bed, and i sit against the headboard, facing him while he awkwardly positioned himself at the end of the mattress.

he cleared his throat, resting his nervous hands on his thighs as he looked at the ground. "i just wanted to apologize. i know that made you uncomfortable, and believe me, it made me pretty uncomfortable writing what i did, but at the same time, it's just how i get my words out. i.. i am really sorry if i violated you in a way. i didn't mean for you to ever see that, and i obviously didn't show it to anyone else. i burned it all last weekend so that it's gone and no one will ever see it but me and you."

i blink in surprise at how adamant he was about getting rid of the evidence he probably spent a lot of time writing. i nod, leaning down as i sink into my propped up pillows. "it's okay, i don't feel that you did that to make me feel weird. you obviously never expected me to see it, and i'm sorry for violating your privacy in the first place. i appreciate you getting rid of it."

he gave me a soft, but still uncomfortable smile. "so.. so we're good?"

"sure." i shrug, sitting up as i felt the conversation beginning to wrap up. "back to mortal enemies? or would you prefer strangers?"

he looked caught off guard by my question, his eyebrow raising at my words. "is there an option that combines the two of them in some way?"

"eh." i cross my legs and lean forward as i speak. "perhaps."

i hear the rain begin to beat against my bedroom window, the sky diming to accompany the sudden thunderstorm, then look to xavier in response. "you better go if you want to make it back to your dorm without getting drenched."

"yeah, you're right." he nods, clearing his throat uncomfortably before standing up. he looks to me, watching as i stand up in return. "well, i'm glad everything is okay."

i nod silently, the two of us staring at each other, unable to process a proper way to say goodbye. i mean, how could we with the conversation we just had?

"uh, me too." i cross my arms and shake my head out of the eye contact, looking up to him. "i'll see you tomorrow in biology?"

"yeah." he nods, turning towards the door to walk himself out.

"oh, here." i walk in front of him to grab my key. "i need to unlock the-"

"can i kiss you [y/n]?"

my cheeks redden and i set the key down, turning to face him. i blink in disbelief. "kiss me?"

"i'm sorry, that was a heat of the moment thing, i didn't mean to make this weird ag-"

"no, it's fine." i walk towards him as i cut his stammering words off, leaning up to take his head into my hands and pull him down to my height, pressing his warm lips against my own. he hastily wrapped his arms around my waist, our bodies gravitating to my bed as i push my weight onto his thin, light build, climbing on top of him and moaning lightly into his mouth as i ran my fingers through his long strands of straight hair.

while there was no rush to this sudden circumstance, we were kissing like we were on a time crunch, hands running down each other's clothed bodies and very quickly taking them off. xavier begins to unbutton my school shirt, the nude colored bra that laid behind it exposed to his eyes, which were visibly glued to my chest as he undressed me. i unbuckled his belt in the process, looking down at him while he moved his head closer to my chest, trailing kisses down my heated flesh and lightly brushing my bra out of the way for a moment as his lips kissed my nipple, tongue circling the stimulated bud which only earned a moan from my lips, xavier's body twitching against my own while my pleasure transferred into his own.

i reach down between us to slide my hand into his pants, a bit slowly to make sure he was okay with it, which he very quickly signaled by lightly bucking his hips towards me in return. my hand was met with his erection, straining in his khakis as i jerked it off, moans escaping from his pink lips and vibrating onto my chest which was starting to cover in light hickies and salvia.

he breaks himself away, forcing my body onto the mattress and my hand out of his pants, his own build getting off of me and onto the floor, his knees against the hardwood while he pulled down my skirt, and my underwear, my face dark red as i was nearly naked before him, nothing but my lopsided bra and half buttoned shirt.

"you don't understand how long i've wanted to taste you." he says through a low, seductive yet needy tone of voice. "i've wanted you in my mouth for what feels like ages." he leans down, taking both my thighs into his hands and pulling my bottom up and towards the end of the bed to reach him.

i was speechless, sitting up and staring down at xavier while he began to trail wet kisses into my inner thighs, his mouth soon reaching my pussy and beginning to lick the outside with great tease. i gasped at just his most gentle touch, one hand holding my body propped up as the other reached down to cup the side of his left cheek. he looked up at me, watching as i gave him a small nod to go further.

his tongue attacked my clit, sucking on the bud and my wet skin while one of his hands snaked between my thighs, gently pushing two fingers into my slit, stimulating my body through more ways than i imagined he would so soon. i moaned, closing my eyes and immersing myself into the moment, finding it still hard to believe that his head was between my thighs now when i would've laughed at the thought of this a few days ago.

watching xavier eat me out was so attractive, i almost couldn't comprehend what him fucking me would feel like. he knew what he was doing, holding our eyes as he pushed his fingers inside me, his touch sucking against my clit and twirling around in circles to tease me further, sparks sending themselves to my hot core. it felt never-ending, in a good way, of course, the way he was able to make me feel. the way he made me want him after all this time hating each other was insane. it was rather impressive more than anything.

i leaned forward, watching him pull his lips away from my middle and to my lips, the taste of my own pleasure now against my mouth, his tongue pushing forward and clashing against my own. with his fingers still in me, he adjusted our position, now on his knees in the bed and hovering a bit above me, watching as my mouth hung open at his touch, the feeling of another finger slipping into my tight walls. i could feel myself wrapping around him, which he visibly took note of, as the expression on his face shaped into a smirk, almost like he was proud of himself for the way i reacted to his strengthening touch.

"i've got to stretch you out if you want me to be inside you." he remarks, leaning down to kiss me between the sinful noises that left my lips. "you want me to fuck you like i hate you?"

"shouldn't be a hard thing to do." i grin, pecking his lips, gasping as he curls his fingers inside me at my response.

xavier pulled his wet fingers out, slapping them against pussy as i arch my body in response to the intense touch, my eyes widening as i look at him in surprise. he could only chuckle, standing up and taking his pants and boxers off, his hard length pointing itself towards me as he steps closer again, knees on the mattress and cock aligned with me. he wasn't lying - he was quite long, as i could have imagined by his height and lanky build, but he was thick, too. he was much more than i imagined he was, but i wasn't complaining.

he leaned closer, helping adjust my body to where my feet were now resting on his bare shoulders, spread wide as he pushed inside me, my eyes shutting and mouth opening at the feeling of him slowly pushing inside my body. good god, he hurt, but at the same time, he felt so fucking good.

he held me by my ankles, his hair moving with his rhythm as he kept a slow, intimate pace, watching as my breasts moved with his thrusts, briefly, until he pulled out. i blinked, confused. "is everything okay?"

"you want me to fuck you like i hate you, right, [y/n]?" he asks flatly, his hand running down his cock, before nudging me to flip over.

my cheeks redden and i shake my head. "i would think you'd want to see my expression when doing so."

"who said i wasn't?" he grinned, grabbing me by the hips and tossing me over, pressing his hand on my stomach to arch back before pushing himself back inside.

i gasped, unable to react as he grabbed my face, guiding it towards him and leaning down to where we were able to meet eyes, my hair fallen in front of my face, which he adjusted to fit behind my ears. i could see it in his eyes that he wanted to watch my expression in every way while he pumped his cock inside me, stroke after stroke causing me to moan, my vision clouding with the harder he held my face, the harder he fucked me and made my legs nearly melt at his rough touch.

"you're so fucking beautiful," he coos, placing a rough, wet kiss against my lips. "so fucking beautiful when you take me inside you, i can feel you tightening against me, [y/n]. i didn't think you'd want me around you much longer, but look at you."

"shut the fuck up." i say through pitiful moans, my hands holding the bedsheets as he talked. "you're not always going to have the upper hand."

he scoffed, picking up his pace, pecking my cheek before leaning up, his hand moving to hold the back of my neck while his thrusts only grew strong from his new position.

"says the girl who's letting me fuck her from behind with her ass propped up for my bare cock." he smirked as he heard me groan in annoyance. "you can tell me you like it, no shame in it."

i roll my eyes, now trying to hold my tongue. i figured this wasn't the time or place to cuss out the same person who was actively pounding me with his cock. "just shut up, xavier."

he leaned down to kiss my cheek quickly, his lips leveling to my ear. "i think you know me well enough to know i'm not going to."

he lifted himself back up, holding my ass as he guided me back and forth, the sounds of our wet skin slapping together while i enveloped his cock inside me, the stimulation far too great to not earn us both a very quickly approaching orgasm.

i felt him moan lightly from behind me, our voices, and bodies, and noises, sync together while the room seemed to grow hotter and far too much for either of us to handle, until we both finished, xavier staying in me for a moment before slowly pulling out, his cum leaking lightly between my shaking, red legs as i laid down on my back.

he laid down aside me, reaching over to undo my top completely and help guide my bra off, leaving the two of us now completely naked, lathered in our own, and each other's, sweat. i felt him wrap his arms around me and i rolled my eyes, lightly trying to nudge him off me.

"you're sweaty." i say, watching him laugh at my remark. "what's so funny?"

he stopped me from my squirming, taking my hand into his own and wrapping his arm around my waist. "you'll never be quiet, will you, [y/n]?"

i shake my head, my expression lightening as i look up to him. "i'm not the one who was begging to taste the other. remind me who was on their knees earlier?"

"i hate you." he playfully nudges me, pulling me closer. he sighed, and look up at the wood ceiling, his tone dialing down as he pursed his lips together.

"you know, you physically feel good, but this felt good, too." he gestures to the two of us, which i only blushed in response at.

"xavier thorpe, are you admitting you've peaked an interest in me?" i tease, squeezing his hand in response.

he rolled his eyes, shrugging softly. "maybe so, but no worries, i'll still follow a few feet behind you in the hallway."

"look at you, already listening. guess i really do have the upper hand in this, don't i?" i sit up, watching as he followed my actions. i reach over to hold him by his face, kissing him once again.

he chuckled, holding me by the back of my head as he returned the kiss. he raised his eyebrow, a bit of reflection on his face from what just happened. “why the sudden change of heart towards me?”

“i don’t know.” i shrug, looking from his lips to his eyes. “i guess we’ll have to see how this unfolds over time.”

“i guess so.” he grinned, kissing me once again. “no worries, ill still make sure to embarrass you in some way on monday in biology.”

“you wouldn’t dare.” i smirk, lightly nudging him onto his back as i climb on top of him. “good luck, xavier thorpe.” i begin to trail kisses down his neck, his arms once again wrapping around my waist.

“words of good luck from the enemy? today’s full of surprises.” he teases before sliding his hand between us.

[dawndelion-winery]

Just Like That

Guiding their starry-eyed junior (can be viewed as platonic or romantic)

Ft. Alhaitham, Cyno, Dottore, Kaveh, Tighnari

Alhaitham:

Haravatat was...well it had the lowest enrollment rate for a reason

And having enrolled yourself, you were starting to see why

But you wouldn't let that deter you!!

You'd heard of the exemplary senior in your darshan by the name of Alhaitham and decided to seek him out for assistance

Which in itself, you felt, should have earned you an award of sorts given how hard he was to find

He excelled at making himself scarce, perhaps even more than he did at his work

Worse still was convincing him to tutor you

As passionate as you were to learn, he wasn't the type to be moved by devotion, and teaching you seemed like more trouble than he cared to deal with

Worst of all was the roundabout, cryptic ways he'd phrase his rejection: never a direct no, it always had to be in another language in some sort of riddle

Until you realised his stupidly annoying phrasings were his way of teaching you subtly

You should be more annoyed with him (enough to never speak to him again) but for whatever reason, him opting to help you, however ridiculously, was touching enough for you to hang around him even more

Cyno:

You'd looked forward to the day you enrolled in Spantamad

After all you'd heard of incredible alchemists like Albedo from Mondstadt and Rhinedottir from an ancient civilisation

But of course, Rhinedottir's work wasn't something you could freely research

And the ley lines!

You'd found a bunch of ley lines that, very strangely, spawned in a foggy orb which when walked into, spawned monsters

You concluded soon enough that the yellow ones gave you mora while the blue ones gave you old academic texts

Now, Cyno first approached you because of interest in Rhinedottir's alchemy

It was mainly to warn you to remember the sins and how you ought to be careful

And then he followed you on one of your ley line trips because it was suspicious how you kept finding notes from adventurers who went missing

Sometimes even the occasional weatherworn documents on research not documented in the Akademiya library

And you were fighting random monsters for this? With no way of knowing what would come out? What if there are rift hounds or something worse?

Absolutely not on your own. He's coming with you from now on

Trust in your reliable senior to beat up anything the ley lines spawn with ease

Dottore:

You must have thought you were real smart getting into Ksharewar

Until you found every Kshahrewar student is brilliant and you're not all that special

The very first time you found a puzzle you couldn't solve, you holed yourself up in the library for endless trial and error

Which only ended when some disgruntled senior came by and solved it for you because you were taking up his usual spot

With his fluffy, electric blue hair and startling ruby eyes, he was an eccentric sort of handsome

And so you scooted to the side for him to sit with you

And he only stared at you wondering why you hadn't left yet

Not that you would now that he's sat beside you

Looking over his solution, he was no doubt the brightest of the brilliant fellows in your darshan, and you'd be damned if you didn't get him to teach you his ways

Against his better judgement, he did finally cave to taking you under his wing

Begrudgingly. Though he wouldn't necessarily get rid of you at the first chance he got

Kaveh:

You had the opportunity to attend the Akademiya while the Light of Ksharewar did, what an honour

His work ethic was really something else

It was... inspirational to see, but frustrating to work with

Can you imagine being on your nineteenth draft because the professor squinted a little too hard at your submission which clearly implied they weren't fully satisfied with it?

Yeah well there's no need to imagine, (read in salesman voice) because with Kaveh, that becomes a reality!

For the low low price of your happiness and sanity, you too could be as much of a perfectionist as Kaveh

Of course he isn't that hard on you

He offers to redo the drafts himself since he's the one who thinks there should be modifications

But for one, you weren't about to waste an opportunity to learn from him

And second, you'd feel bad if he slaved away at it himself

So you often ended up in the House of Daena at ungodly hours with him

Which in turn sparks gossip because of how tired you seem and your peers knowing you're often with your very pretty senior

Tighnari:

Congrats on getting into the most popular darshan, Amurta

I sure hope bio is your strong suit bc it isn't mine

The potential projects you can pick from is so broad that it's impossible to have nothing to do and it's doing wonders for your mental state

Until it's not and you find yourself burnt out

Professors who once praised your drive and dedication now look at you in disappointment and disapproval

It's heartbreaking, really, until they ask Tighnari to guide you, thinking you've had a change of heart about your passions

Tighnari called bullshit on this, of course

He knew what the actual situation was once your change in behaviour was described to him

So when you'd nervously ask him how he was gonna get you back on the work grind, he scoffed and took you out for some relaxing field work

You were wondering what the point of it was, but didn't think it wise to question your well respected senior

At least until his sass got to you and you started quipping back

To which he finally laughed as though he'd succeeded in something

"There you go, you depressing lummox. About time you started loosening up. Stop losing your mind over what you can't do, or you'll start spiralling even more."

Taglist: @ryuryuryuyurboat @yinyinggie @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @haliyamori @irethepotato @boundedbyfate @favonius-captain @aqui-soba @tiredsleep

[penvisions]

wish i never met you {a garnish one shot}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Fear of rejection and messing up so beyond comprehension makes you regret crossing the professional line and getting to know Joel as you do now.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: canon typical language, joel thinks he's the one in charge but we all know it's really reader, religious contemplation, mentions of past trauma, mentions of bad family dynamics, smoking, consumption of alcohol, menstruation, talk of menstruation, blood, cramps, muscle soreness, unorthodox pregnancy announcement, reader is a hot mess, allusions to adult content, allusions to smut, mentions of past p in v, might need to add more if i missed anything!

A/N: wrote this as part of a fun, silly fic title prompt game submission from a sweet anon. it totally inspired an angsty din piece at first that i have in my drafts but then these two slammed into my brain and hijacked the idea. i just love them, your honor. i have so much love for them. NOW I KNOW THIS SUBJECT MATTER ISN'T FOR EVERYONE, I REALLY DEBATED POSTING THIS OVER THE LAST FEW DAYS BC I KNOW IT'S NOT EVERYONE'S CUP OF TEA but i feel like this is a good trajectory for these two, truly. i'm so sorry if anyone disagrees with the direction i took this in and i hopei t doesn't take away from the original series for y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“No, fuck off.” Was the quick response to a wide palm caressing over your back. You were hunched over your crossed legs on the couch, aware of how bad the position was for your posture. But it was the only way to find any relief on your aching back. You had thought it was cramps at first, really, but then you realized all the symptoms of your monthly cycle fell in line with something else when the bleeding never started.

“Excuse me, darlin’? You sure you wanna use that language with me?” Joel’s deep voice was tinged with an edge, giving you the chance to retract your expletives. You were never so outright with your denial, never wanting to deny the man a few feet away. But the way in which you had expressed it to an obviously exhausted Joel was maybe too bold for the late hour. But you didn’t take it, instead repeating yourself.

“Kindly, fuck off. Don’t touch me.” You pulled away from him, hunching lower under his hand to break the contact.

“That’s not much better, ya know.” Joel’s hands shifted to his waist, a thick brow raised as he took in the sight of you nearly balled up, the faint light of the screen lighting up your face as you ignored him.

A harsh contraction of your muscles had you groaning out, “I wish I never met you.”

“C’mon now, you don’t mean that.” Joel huffed, trying to keep his calm, but you knew it was hard for him even if you really didn’t feel all that good. You never took your pain or frustration out on him like this, it was always soft murmurs of ‘hold me’ or ‘can I borrow your warmth’. Never the way you were reacting now.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into y-“ His mouth snapped shut, eyes focusing on the screen. On the words you had typed into the search engine. Normally he would tease you over the typos, your fingers not working as quick as you mind for all the grace and focus you normally had to expertly wield a sharp knife.

 Your heart thumped at the sudden silence. The fizzling tension that had filled the room.

“Don’t!” You gasped out, slamming the laptop closed and shielding the device with your body completely.

“Darlin’…” You swore you could hear the cogs turning in his head. Thinking back on the depraved as desperate way you had been seeking him out when he returned home from a late shift at the restaurant even despite the haze of sleep, in the mornings before you had to peel yourself away to go to campus, the photos you had brazenly sent him without warning that had him shielding or turning his phone over throughout the day. Thinking back on the way you had been inhaling food at any occasion, none of your normal contemplation or silence after what you considered a binge. Thinking back on the way you had begun to complain of your work clothing feeling wrong and too tight on your aching body as you dressed in the morning.

When he moved to sit on the other side of the couch, far too close for comfort, you shied away and pressed your back into the arm on your end.

“Not gonna touch ya, you have my word.” He raised his hands placatingly, his expression so soft that the tears burst from you without warning.

“You do-don’t wanna touch me. Not anymo-more.” Hiccups jolted your body, making the skin you were already uncomfortable in tingle. “I ruined ev-everything.”

He regarded you with a small frown, his plush lips pulled down as he clasped his hands together in his lap. Just as he opened his mouth to speak the words flew from you.

“I remember what you said, on the line.” You narrowed your eyes at him as they echoed in your head.

‘It had been a slow day, prep and cleaning taking over most of the evening shift. It had been back before you had taken on a role in the kitchen. Sneaking fries from the bowl of them on the expo line. They hadn’t been hot or even salted, but they were better than snacking on the fruity garnishes at the bar.

He had been passing the time with who you hadn’t known at the time was his brother, Tommy. Who had driven into the city to help take a look at the empty lot beside the restaurant, both of them contemplating the construction of a patio. But they had ended up in the kitchen, hunger too strong a call.

While Joel was on the line, Tommy was beside you, sneaking fries with a wink in your direction. But you ignored him, focused on looking through the catalogue of one of your vendors. Trying to make a seasonal menu. But your ears caught the harsh grunt of the man your eyes trailed over in the midst of busy nights.

“Wouldn’t do it, no.”

“C’mon, you seriously tellin’ me you wouldn’t baby sit for me if I were to gift you with a niece or nephew.”

“No, ‘m too old. Hire a babysitter.”

“You’re full of it ‘n you know it.”

“Brother, a baby is a lot of work. Now, your baby? Even more so.” Joel leveled his brother with a look that silenced any other argument on the matter.’

The moment he realized what you were talking about, his brows flew up into his hairline and he breathed out a hearty chuckle.

“Darlin’, I was just givin’ him a hard time. You gotta know that.”

“I didn’t know you.” You stood up from the couch, body protesting the movement. Cupping a hand over your mouth, you breathed harshly as you tried to tamp down a bout of nausea. “And now that I do, I’m gonna have to consider literally everything on my own and I’m gonna hate how much it hurts to not know you any longer. I wish I-“

“No,” He sighed, brow furrowing before he pinned you with a serious expression. “You do know me now and I wouldn’t turn my back on you, on this. I’m in it, pretty girl, no matter what you decide to do.”

When you whipped away from him, shuddering breaths wracking your sore body, the crack of your voice on a sob spurred him into motion. His arms came around you slowly, giving you the chance to retreat if it wasn’t something you wanted. But you let him, the feel of his chest warm and soothing on your aching back. The push of his soft stomach comforting. His chin hooked over a shoulder, and he spoke in such a somber tone.

“Darlin’, I always thought I was too old to do this again. But I haven’t crossed fifty quite yet and the thought of you carrying my child, of loving me and my child. God, I would give anything for it to be our future. To see you blossom into yourself more, to show our baby the same devotion you give to everything in your life, you deserve somewhere to put all your love.”

One of his hands moved over the one you had on your middle. Holding you so secure, holding you both so secure.

“Joel…it’s a lot. It’s….we’re not even-“ You turned in his arms, facing him. His beautiful, open expression so full of love and adoration, all of it for you. Your heart melted in your chest, dripping low to flutter in your stomach. You weren’t even overtly religious, left over from the trauma of your childhood. Of being forced to attend mass and important holidays alongside your grandparents. The denial of your father never urging you to seek out a higher power in replacement. But the thought of technically being single and going through something like this. It made you afraid.

“There’s a ring in my sock drawer. Got it the day of our first do over date. ‘s why I was so close to the campus. It’s yours. I’m yours. This could be yours. But only if you want it.” Joel’s forehead lightly thumped against yours as he pressed in close. His breath a warm wash over your face, smelling faintly of cigarette smoke.

Looking between each of his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitancy from him it was quiet. When you didn’t find any, you felt a smile pull at your lips as you nodded your head in affirmation. Wet laughter bubbling up as his lips pressed to yours, a smile of his own for you to feel on them.

“But I still expect you to propose, can’t skip any steps with me. I know you think you’re hot shit with being crowned the city’s most prolific chef of the year but I swear to-“

He cut you off with another kiss, his moustache ticking your upper lip as he nipped at your bottom one.

“I don’t wanna miss any steps with ya, darlin’. I’m here for ‘em all.”

It was hard to ignore the stirring of other feelings in your body, drowning out the aches and pains. But when realization hit you, you pulled back with wide eyes.

“We’re gonna have to stop drinking and smoking!”

“We?”

taglist: @tuquoquebrute @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @76bookworm76 @hiddenbabynyc @clevergirl74 @anavatazes @samiamproductions @sarap-77 @honeyedmiller @undercoverpena

[kinopio-writes]

Request: A one-shot with Vox and a Fem!Reader who is an Overlord that deemed a less high position but kept being her chaotic neutral self nonetheless. She and the Vees were playing a game and she won in the worst way possible. (tried to remember all the things @matrixbearer2024 told me so, uh, sorry if this wasn’t what you meant)

A/N: I accidentally posted this completely unfinished and deleted it as soon as possible so I lost the request. Vox is one of the harder characters to write because most of the time he’s on screen, he’s shitting on Alastor. Hopefully he gets more developed in season 2. I used his controlled and controlling characteristics a lot here.

Um, this turned out neither platonic nor romantic. I was focused on establishing their dynamic here, so this might turn into a series. Enjoy! I liked how the story turned out to be (although the pacing might be rough).

Words: 1,569 (edited)

Warnings: Valentino (he’s not acting like how he does around Angel, mostly because Vel’s your friend and you’re not a worker in his studio)

———

Vox x Fem Overlord!Reader who had taken the backseat

The doors to his office slid open, allowing the bright light from the other room to pour into his TV-adorned space. The light blocked him from seeing the other side of the screens, and the suit-clad demon sitting on his swivel chair jerked back from whatever he was paying close attention to, bringing him back to reality.

“Um, Sir?” A nasally voice piped up from the light.

His boss quietly groaned in irritation, not bothering to turn around to look at him. “What is it?”

“We have a problem.” Of course, there was. Ever since that old prick suddenly came back, things have been not going well for him. Well, it was mostly because he let that piece of shit get to him. “We’ve been receiving numerous complaints about our new voyeur scopes.”

Vox merely waved a dismissive hand, eyes glued to the screen in front of him. “That happens all the time. If the protests persist, get someone to start on a new draft.”

His assistant left right after, and as Vox heard the doors close, he let out a heavy sigh, deciding to change the setting of his screens to watch over his district.

“Let’s see what the fuss is all about, shall we?”

•••

You had smashed another one of the flying drones.

You’d been doing that for quite a while, settling that as your first order in business after letting someone take over your district for you, granting you more freedom. There wasn’t much thought in the decision. You had just grown tired of being a leader and gaining more power. You liked being laid-back, but it wasn’t as if you’d settle on the retirement (after)life. Now that would be just plain boring.

VoxTek Enterprises was a brand you were familiar with. Not as a customer, but as a friend to someone who was close to the man behind the title: Vox.

You didn’t have anything against the guy—Vox was a charming fellow when you first met him. When he approached you, you were happy to disclose any questions he had, although you noticed that his left eye started to swirl as you spoke. It went back to normal quickly, however, so you went back to your usual talking pace. He ended the conversation briefly after that, and you were approached by more overlords during that event. (heavily edited this paragraph)

Now, you were hanging out with two of the three Vees. Velvette immediately invited you to chat about your new position after she heard while Valentino was lying on the other couch beside yours, on his phone.

She pried for an answer as to why you’d done what you did. When you gave her the direct answer of simply getting tired of it, she changed the topic to new fashion trends. You agreed to be her temporary model for her newest drafts, and Val piped in if you wanted a photo shoot for a magazine for an entirely different cause. Vel swatted his head away, rejecting his offer for you.

When the chatter had slowed down to silence, you explored around the spacious room as the others scrolled through their phone. You managed to find a video game that was unsurprisingly made by VoxTek. It was quite an old product, but it looked interesting enough, so you called out to the other overlords in the room if they wanted to play. They agreed.

•••

Vox’s eye twitched, snarling as he watched you get all buddy-buddy with Valentino and Velvette. And playing his game, no less? The fucking disrespect!

Initially, Vox liked you the moment he laid his eyes on you. That was one of the reasons why he made conversation with you, even if he had non-amicable intentions. You also had been gaining more power at the time and the other stronger overlords noticed, including him. He speculated on your potential to grow more influential and wanted to be acquainted with you for future use. However, you were instantly on his watchlist when he realized he couldn’t hypnotize you.

During the conversation you two had, he managed to get you to tell him how you got into your position, which didn’t even need much prying. You didn’t like business and politics, you hated forethought, and you didn’t even know there was such a thing as a hierarchy in Hell—you thought everyone just did their thing and be their worst, which was just fucking stupid.

You were reckless, an oversharer, unprofessional, passive, and unpredictable. In other words, you were an uncontrollable freak who had too much power. He didn’t understand how you were still alive.

Vox felt threatened when you made friends with Velvette before she even joined the Vees. He knew he couldn’t convince her to stop being in contact with you, so every time you two hung out, he would watch you two closely from his monitors. So far, he managed to keep you as far away from him as possible.

Until now. You were literally in the same building he was in. You were closer to him than you’ve been in years.

Velvette’s voicemail echoed throughout his office. She wasn’t answering any of his calls.

He cursed out loud. What a pain. It seemed he had to deal with you himself.

•••

“Val! What the fuck are you doing in last place?”

You three were playing Mario Kart (Wii), or at least, the rip-off version of it. It was still pretty decent, though. You all decided that doing all thirty-two races would be a fun way to pass the time until the Vees had to do their separate things.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? The buttons don’t do shit!”

“Use the rocket (Bullet Bill), shithead! Press the arrow key!”

“What the fuck is an arrow key—! Oh, there we go. I’m in second place! Ha! Eat shit, Princess Bitch!”

“Valentino! You blind ass, you’re blocking the screen!”

“I’m winning!”

“Taking my first place, you fucking won’t!”

You ignored their bickering and used two out of your three red shells to hit Rosalina and Toadette, a shit-eating grin on your face as you won first place.

A series of shouts and yells followed right after.

“Wait, what the fuck!”

“Who did that!”

“I did.” The two Vees turned their heads from the screen to see you comfortably lying upside down on the couch, legs hanging on the headrest.

Velvette’s shoulders relaxed. Valentino, on the other hand, flipped…the table. The TV was disconnected from its wires.

“What the—Valentino!” Velvette watched him stomp his way out of the room. “Valentino, where are you going? You better not be thinking about—…”

Velvette’s words fell silent as they both got farther from the room.

You placed the remote on the couch and finally sat upright, examining the space around you as chaos erupted from downstairs. It didn’t seem like they were coming back soon.

Hmm. Now you had the room all to yourself.

•••

You were busy rearranging the snacks and mixing their places into different cupboards when the double doors burst off their hinges and harshly hit the wall. You snapped your head to the entrance to catch a glimpse of a TV head before the doors closed back on themselves.

You snorted, going back to messing with Valentino’s stuff.

A moment of silence passed, and you stopped snooping around to check if Vox was still there, leaning down as you opened one of the two doors slightly. You saw his hands form into fists in front of you, and you immediately stood back to your height with a grin.

“The man himself!” You took a step away and opened both doors entirely, lifting your arms as a gesture of welcome even though he owned the place, and that irked him. “You know, Val and Vel and I played a game. You should’ve joined—”

“I know.”

“Oh, then the two are downstairs causing chaos.” You skipped over to the couch and sat on the headrest, falling back on the seat as you kicked your legs. “Usually that would be my thing, but—”

“I know.”

“And sorry for breaking those drones of yours. It was just—” you curled in yourself as you grabbed at your hands, “—in front of me, y’know—?”

“I know.”

“Wow, you know a lot.” He didn’t know if you meant that sarcastically or not. And that alone pissed him off further. “I’m assuming you also know that I stopped being an overlord?” You heard static in his direction.

“You…stopped being an overlord? No one just…stops being one.”

“Ooh, worded that wrong, huh?” You lifted your upper half to see the TV head still standing in the same spot. “I’m still technically one, I suppose, but I’m more, like, second in command? I��m just letting someone take over for me. The overlord life was too restricting, y’know?”

No, he didn’t know.

“Anyway, good talk.” You raised your legs and pushed them forward to stand up, making your way over to him. “I think I had an appointment with the guy who’s taking over. Thank Vel and Val for letting me hang out here. Actually, maybe go apologize to Val for me; I rearranged his cupboards.”

You patted his shoulder as you walked past. “See you soon, Vox!”

The man in question had his mouth slightly parted, his eyes still glued inside the room.

Shit. He was going to see you a lot often now, wasn’t he?

Fuck his life.

[lordsukunas]

never make him love me

tldr: you’re determined to confess to teen!gojo, but your chances of success are literally 0.

cw: angst/no comfort... sorry? reader is a bit very delusional n kinda weird, gojo may be a bit ooc, no curse au, gender neutral (i think) but reader is wearing a skirt, and im p sure this is not very accurate to the actual japanese school system. not beta read btw

a/n: this has been in my drafts for too long... whoops! trying a different divider but i don’t rlly like it. also does reader count as a girl/boyfailure here or not? they kinda strange tbh :/ idk lol, hope yall enjoy getting rejected by gojo n can yall guess who hes already in love w

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

which, to be fair, a lot of people are. he’s a pretty face: soft, snow-white hair with bright cerulean eyes that draws anyone and everyone in. a big, gorgeous smile, and long, muscular limbs that you just know would feel so good wrapped around you.

plenty of people have confessed to him, and all of them have been rejected. that should be enough to put you off, to make you face the reality that gojo may not be madly in love with you, but it just makes you more determined. he’s just rejecting everyone else because he’s waiting for you!

that has to be it, right?

definitely, you think as you skip to gojo’s classroom. you can feel the weird stares from students (and even a teacher or two), but they don’t matter. you’re going to confess to gojo satoru, damn it, and nothing’s getting in the way.

it’s lunch period, thankfully, which means he’ll be with geto and ieiri. that’s good — his best friends will be there to watch him declare his reciprocated love for you.

you slide the door open, love letter and two packs of kasugai gummies in one hand. a few students in the room glance up at you, including gojo!

the two of you lock eyes — well, you think you do. it’s a bit difficult to tell, but his head is facing your direction, so he’s totally looking at you. he’s noticing you!!!

you bite your lip to stifle the giggle bubbling up in your chest and walk up to the perfect trio (hopefully, soon to be quadruple). “hi, gojo,” you say, a nervous yet giddy smile on your face.

“... hey?” he exchanges looks with geto before focusing back on you. “do i know you?”

okay, ouch. you literally sat behind him in chemistry, but, whatever. don’t focus on the little things!

“um, probably not, but!” you hold out the envelope with a heart sticker as the seal. “i have something to tell you.”

“uh... okay.” gojo scratches the back of his neck, then takes the letter. he slides his finger under the seal, tearing it open, and pulls the letter out. he unfolds it, and both geto and ieiri lean in to also read it.

a frown tugs at the corners of your lips. the words were meant for just gojo, not those two. although... does it really matter? you’re just proving that you’re a good fit for their best friend.

after a drawn out moment of silence, gojo chuckles, albeit awkwardly. “wow, uh... this is a lot.”

you nod. “yeah!” you also hand him the packs of gummies, which he takes a bit more eagerly than the letter and sets them on his desk. “so, um...”

your heart has been hammering in your chest this entire time, but now it feels like it’s trying to escape. sweat accumulates on your palms, and you resist the urge to wipe them on your skirt.

this is the big moment.

you hope and pray and plead to whatever being that’s out there for gojo to accept and reciprocate your feelings. with all the manifesting and ‘love spells’ you’ve done, it should work. gojo satoru is most definitely in love with–

“this is nice, but, uh, i’m not interested.”

...

what?

you blink down at him, and now you’re the one chuckling nervously. “i’m sorry?”

maybe you misheard. that had to be it, right? there’s no way he isn’t in love with you. you bought him gummies, you wrote him a letter, you spent countless hours researching and trying different manifestation methods, you prayed at the shrine, you learned his schedule so that you could pass by him on the way to class, you did everything for him.

he scratches the back of his neck again before refolding the letter and putting it back into the envelope. “i’m not really interested in a relationship right now. you’re probably really cool and stuff, so don’t take it personally.”

no, no, no, no. this isn't how this was supposed to go! he was supposed to say yes! what happened? what did you do wrong?

now you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of his friends. his best friends. how are you supposed to come back from this? thank god no one else in the room is paying attention right now.

heat creeps up the back of your neck and spreads to your face. sweat is drenching your palms, blood is roaring in your ears, and you really want to melt into the ground never to be seen again. you’re pretty sure your heart just shattered into a trillion pieces and a shard pierced your lungs, because you cannot breathe.

you then feel a hand on your forearm, and you jolt. it’s ieiri. “hey, are you–”

“i’m fine!” you blurt, and a few heads turn in your direction. you take the envelope back from gojo, spin on your heel, and rush out of the classroom.

damn it.

you’re pushing past people to get to the restroom, and you slam the stall door shut before locking it.

you’re so stupid. how could the gojo satoru be in love with you?

the tears finally spill from your eyes, running down your cheeks, and you let your face fall into your hands as you sob.

idiot, idiot, idiot.

you should’ve known you wouldn’t be any different. he wasn’t waiting for you. he’ll never be waiting for you. you never had a chance, and in your defense, no one did.

gojo’s heart has already been claimed by someone else, and if you were a little smarter, you’d know exactly who it is.

[utilitycaster]

not episode related but related to that post earlier today re: actual play fandoms whining for things other than D&D and then rejecting anything that isn't D&D but: I've noticed an uptick in this and I don't know if it's just that my following has grown to the point where more people see my posts so it's happening to me, or if it's people from Twitter/Reddit who have different norms than I do, but I've gotten multiple "I don't know about the topic this post is about, but here's a long-ass response" reblogs.

Do not do this. Do not ever do this. In my decade and change on Tumblr I have never once, to my recollection, seen someone who was actually the one genius who brought a new outsider perspective to a longstanding gripe. Every single time it's been Some Fucking Guy (gn) who doesn't know what the fuck they're talking about and like 99% of the time they didn't read the post they're responding to in full either. If you find yourself reblogging and saying "I don't know about this at all and have no investment" that is your own words hinting very strongly to you that you should delete that draft and go get a nice beverage of your choosing. I will not see your stupid words in my activity and call you stupid for them! you will not get called stupid! you get a nice beverage! everyone wins, and the secret is you saying "wow, this post is in no way directed at me, a person whom it is not about, and therefore it does not demand anything of me and I shall not think of it any longer" instead of "TIME FOR MY (WRONG AND UNINFORMED) OPINION." The power is yours.

[oneluckydragon]

I know it's a story, oh I know it's just a story. But why does it feel like my worst nightmare?

My Explorers of Sky Hero, Echo!

Lately I've been writing a study on her and this paragraph is taken from my rough rough draft. It's a more in-depth exploration of her character/origin/experiences and since I am a huge fan of the darkrai reincarnation theory, this is my personal take on the concept.

I think it's a bit poetic that Echo, in the aftermath of everything, winds up as a dark-type again (and one connected to the moon no less, the irony) as well. I mean, her timeline of lives has literally been this:

Darkrai (New Moon/Pitch Black) -> Human -> Eevee (Evolution) -> Umbreon (Moonlight)

A lot of her evolution into umbreon has to do with her personal trauma/amnesia and also significant influence from dusknoir (who she trusted and cared about), but deep down I feel like her evolution was also partially determined by the fragmented remnants of her original self. She even tried to evolve into leafeon, which obviously, did not work out as planned. Perhaps this is her past lives way of manifesting in her current self, though she is no longer the same pokemon anymore. Maybe it has something to do with self-forgiveness or acceptance? She still has a lot of healing to do, though.

Once evolving into a dark type, Echo slowly starts to regain some of her memories from her time as Darkrai. And Team Wish's new friendship with Cresselia, who is more perceptive than she has any right to be, gives Echo a lot of insight into exactly who she is. This spirals into Echo battling the reality of her past actions alone for a long time because how is she supposed to admit the truth to Sora? That she was the direct cause of their shared suffering? That she and darkrai are one and the same? That all of the pokemon of the future lived in an eternity of hell because she desired it? Of course, she keeps quiet for a long time out of pure fear-- because if Sora rejected her, she'd fall apart. It's a lot to keep secret but what else can she do?

And bonus!! Does Echo's shadow change during each night of the new moon? Hmm. Sure does seem like it.

[trans-jon-rights]

What is the Magnus Protocol ?

(And how does it tie in with the Magnus Institute ?)

With MAGP 19 being the bombshell it was, I think we might have enough information to at least draft up the beginning of a theory.

So what could it be ?

I suppose it might be just that, a Protocol of containment. To contain Newton's creation and whatever happened in London*. Still enacted to this day by the government, the O.I.A.R and Starkwall**. And maybe it is the reason why the Institute burned.

*I suspect what happened in London to be the Great Fire of London, which did help stop a plague and happened 18 years before the letter was written.

**As mentioned in MAGP 4

So with that we have the more concrete stuff set up, I think we can go into the slightly more crack theory, because I've had too much coffee and my brain is going to explode.

Albertus Magnus was a German alchemist from the 13th century. He was very interested in stones, and believed they held power, as stated in his work 'De Mineralibus'. There were also numerous rumours that he achieved immortality using the philosopher's stone, which was a huge achievement in alchemy (basically the ultimate goal).

His work inspired numerous others, including :

Metals and Materials

The Secrets of Chemistry

The Origin of Metals

The Origins of Compounds

Doesn't this remind you of something ?

The case also refers to Wilhelm Homberg, though I couldn't find much on him other than he was an alchemist, and that he looked to create the philosopher's stone as well (which confirms that whatever Newton found, it was about that).

Anyway.

Let's consider this. Sam confirmed in the latest episode that it at least somewhat related to alchemy. And look at this from MAGP 9 :

They were looking for catalysts. Even better, they had an entire department dedicated to them ! Maybe I'm totally wrong, but the direct synonym of it in my native language (un catalyste) is something that was used in alchemy, at least to my knowledge.

So yeah, we know it has to do with alchemy. I've yet to found it again, but I recall tumblr user @misfitmagpie did this very extensive post about alchemical symbols on the logo of the show, and others on more alchemical stuff if you are interested.

But it is very obvious the Institute studied alchemy, looking for something. I do have a theory as to why they studied it, but its not about the Protocol, so we'll hold that thought for slightly later.

To me, the Protocol is something meant to regulate things, and was enabled by the government. But the government might have at some point considered the Institute dangerous, much like Robert Hooke did with Newton's experiment, and decided to destroy it. Usually the destructions involve fire. Newton's lab did burn down, and the mentionned previous iteration was likely to be the Great Fire of London in 1666.

(It is also notable that, although irrelevant to the current theory, the charity shop in MAGP 7 did burn down as well, which would further strengthen the idea that Starkwall is the current enabler of the Protocol for the government)

What else burned ? The Magnus Institute.

The very same Institute that was invested in alchemy, and that I am uninclined to believe was well intentioned.

And here I'd like to introduce you to something. The Franciscans.

Those guys held the belief that the Antichrist was coming and that the philosopher's stone was essential to stop it.

There's also a concept of balance (something something Robert Smirke something something) involved which dictates that for an Antichrist there needs to be a Christ.

And the Institute did research on children, measuring their development, empathy and compliance. Whether they were looking for the Christ or the Antichrist is unsure, (though seeing that high empathy level children were rejected speaks for itself) but they were looking for something.

So here, I could conclude. Say that the Institute was looking for the philosopher's stone, and the Antichrist, and that the Protocol was used to destroy them. But there's more.

Do you remember MAG 140 ? In this episode, Basira says this about Maxwell Rayner :

And here I have a fun fact for you. Did you know that Albertus Magnus wasn't originally named like this ? His name was Albertus the Great, and he became 'Magnus' after his death (Magnus meaning 'The Great' in Latin).

So what if ?

What if Jonah discovered Albertus' old works, and decided to follow them, resulting in an imperfect immortality like in TMA, and founding his Institute to further his research it and access a perfect one ?

And maybe he succeeded, and then decided that he wanted more, and tried to find the Antichrist. Finding use for the child would be easy, and he could hold it as a Damocles sword up everyone's head.

Then, he almost found them, and the Protocol was executed. That would give us a potential identity for [ERROR], being either Jonah or the child that yhey couldn't destroy. If it is Jonah, that would explain why he was following Alice, if she was indeed Connor Dyer (and Alex confirmed that she was trans mtf, so the possibility is more than likely). But also, considering [ERROR] I voiced by a woman, I rather think it might be the child.

I don't believe Albertus to be Jonah, mostly because if he already had access to immortality that early, why wait so long to look for the child. Though Jonah being a relative would explain the origin of his last name and how he found Albertus' old works.

In short, I believe the Magnus Protocol to be a Protocol of containment/destruction of knowledge by fire, related but not only limited to alchemy. It was used in 1999 to stop the researches conducted at the Magnus Institute. These researches were looking for an Antichrist, and conducted by the maybe immortal Jonah Magnus, who had discovered the secret to eternal life and the philosopher's stone exploiting the work of Albertus Magnus.

I am going insane.

Please send opinions and corrections ! I am far from an expert, I'm just a sleep deprived guy who did some research so don't hesitate to correct me ! You won't come out as rude and I won't be offended I promise.