#but it was simply boring not much of value

[adieutristana]

love languages; arcane women x fem! reader

heeeyyy guys... my birthday is in exactly 6 days (the 16th) just thought you should know

summary: headcanons of how arcane characters express all five love languages.

characters included: jinx, vi, mel, sevika, maddie, lest.

tags/warnings: fluff, slight hurt/comfort, mentions of poor mental health, smoking mention, maaaaybe the slightest bit suggestive?, just a lot of fluff

men and minors dni.

jinx;

✧.* words of affirmation; jinx is not good with words, she never has been. trying to rationalize her feelings with words seems next to impossible for the girl, but she’ll still try. at first, it starts with little compliments in passing. “you’re so beautiful, toots…” she’ll whisper, or, “you make things a lot less boring around here.” but over time, it’ll grow into jinx assuring you how much she loves you. that you make her happy, because she sees how happy it makes you to hear that.

“i love you a lot, sugar, don’t forget that!” she’d say, a goofy grin on her face. “y’know how to make a girl happy, that’s for sure.”

✧.* quality time; quality time is probably one of jinx’s strongest love languages, next to gift giving. she wants to include you in absolutely everything she does. whether that be dragging you along to run errands (for bomb supplies or stolen goods) with her, watching her tinker, tagging walls in the undercity together, or simply enjoying each others’ presence while eating, jinx loves it. she loves every second she gets with you, it helps keep her grounded. the voices grow quieter, her demeanor visibly shifts, and you can see little hints of powder coming out.

✧.* physical touch; jinx is extremely touch-starved at the beginning of your relationship. not only that, but she’s a bit fearful of touch. you do have to ease her into being okay with the idea of being touched with light squeezes on the shoulder, hugs that seem too short, and soft kisses to her hands. but over time, jinx grows to love physical touch. kissing your shoulders, neck, forehead, temples, anywhere. falling asleep on top of you. placing you in her lap no matter how tall you are. jinx grows to love the proximity.

✧.* acts of service; jinx likes to try and do favors for you, but she kind of… messes them up? unintentionally, of course. but if you ask her to run errands for her, you’ll have to be very specific about you want because she might accidentally pick up the wrong thing, and also specify that you’d like her to pay for it. she also may want to cook for you, but jinx should not be trusted in a kitchen. overall, jinx does enjoy trying to do little acts of service for you! but in her own way.

✧.* gift giving; gift giving is probably jinx’s strongest love language. she hand makes all of her bombs and gadgets, so naturally, she’d hand make gifts for her girlfriend! she’ll make you crude stick-figure drawings of the two of you with little hearts around them, smoke bombs in your favorite colors, and charm necklaces out of scrap metal. putting her time and energy into making things for you is jinx’s ultimate showcase of her love. she prides herself on her creations!

“look! i made this!” jinx would beam, dropping a piece of jewelry into your lap. a charm bracelet filled with little trinkets she crafted and a matching necklace. “isn’t it neat?! do you like it?”

vi;

✧.* words of affirmation; although vi isn’t always the best with words, she does truly value words of affirmation. to her, actions speak louder than words, but words can do a hell of a job, too. she’ll tell you again and again just how much she loves you. complimenting you, using one of her millions of pet names for you, letting you know how crazy she is for you.

“i can’t go a second without thinking about you, cupcake. you know that? don’t ever think that you’re not important to me, because truth be told, i’m crazy about you. i always will be.”

✧.* quality time; vi loves any moment she gets with you. whether that be time spent laughing over cheesy jokes in the last drop, playfully sparring with you, or naps curled into each other, vi can’t get enough. she’d show up at your door unannounced, asking if she can come in because she misses you despite seeing you the day prior (and the day before that.) she does enjoy her alone time as well, so she won’t be attached to you at the hip necessarily, but vi does enjoy her time with you. she’s at her happiest when she’s with her girlfriend.

✧.* physical touch; vi is a sucker for physical touch. it’s probably her strongest love language. vi always has to be touching you somehow- it’s both her love for you and her protective nature. an arm around you, hand resting firmly on your waist. snaking her arms around you from behind with a hum. kisses peppered all over your face as she drinks in the sound of your giggles. putting her hand atop yours when sat together. pressing you flush against her chest during late night cuddles. sleeping with her face in the crook of your neck and using her calloused fingers to draw little shapes into your bare back or arms. it’s all just so addictive to vi.

“hm…” vi would hum, using the pad of her thumbs to trace little stars and hearts into the skin of your lower back. laying her head on your shoulder, pink locks tickling your neck. “you’re so soft. so warm.”

✧.* acts of service; vi does everything she can to make your life easier. she’d slip your shoes on for you and buy all of your groceries and carry you out of bed every morning just to save the hassle if you’d allow her, but she settles for making you meals and doing little favors for you. i think vi can actually cook fairly well- she did have to look after powder for so many years. she’ll make you breakfast at least twice a week, she’ll put away your laundry after a particularly long day, and run errands for you. she’ll always return with a cheesy grin on her face. vi enjoys it, she both feels useful and gets to see her girl happy. it’s a win-win.

✧.* gift giving; i honestly can’t see vi caring much for gift giving. but if she does, she’d give you things she knows can be practical in daily life. household supplies, food ingredients, and replacements for broken appliances. it’s not that she doesn’t see the point in gift-giving, it’s just that vi doesn’t want to be wasteful- mostly due to her upbringing. she doesn’t see the use for having more than she needs, so she’d probably apply that same logic to giving gifts.

mel;

✧.* words of affirmation; mel is so good when it comes to communication, and by extension, words of affirmation. the councilwoman is always telling you how important you are to her, how beautiful you are, how happy you make her. the fact that she can’t imagine a life without you. you are her sun, her sky, her galaxy. mel knows exactly how to use her words to make you feel loved.

“i waited all day to see you, dearest…” mel would whisper, her soft hand tracing your cheek and coming up to cup it. running the pad of her thumb across your cheek so gently. “the council can be so dull. i couldn’t take my mind off of you, truth be told. you just motivate me to keep going- you’ll always be waiting for me.”

✧.* quality time; mel doesn’t necessarily have much time to spare. being caught up with the council, her own family affairs, and being something of a socialite, mel is frequently busy. but that makes the time she does get alone with you so much more valuable. she’ll have you by her side while doing last-minute paperwork, drag out mornings so she can get just a few more minutes with you, clinging to any little moment she gets. mel also enjoys including you where she can, so she’ll take you to galas and meetings that’ll allow guests.

✧.* physical touch; mel cannot get enough of physical touch. she has the restraint of a warrior, otherwise she would be touching you somehow 24/7. she loves to loop your arm around hers, elbows linked, she loves to nuzzle into the crook of your neck or interlace your fingers. she loves kissing- probably her favorite form of physical touch. there’s very little mel loves more than your lips on hers, her lips on your temples, her lips trailing up your arm to meet your shoulder, then up your neck and to your lips. leaving a trail of glittering lipstick the whole way. she craves the proximity, the warmth, the companionship. she also loves sharing a bed with you. she doesn’t mind being the big or little spoon, as long as she gets to be close to you somehow. clinging to you or vice versa while sleeping makes mel melt.

✧.* acts of service; mel tries to help you with things around the house and run errands for you, but she’s usually the one who needs favors. that’s not to say that she won’t fold your laundry if you ask her to or help you wash your hair, but she’s usually caught up with what she has to do and what she needs help with. when it comes to acts of service, mel is usually on the receiving end.

✧.* gift giving; gods help you, mel will spoil you rotten with gifts. it’s not only because she’s incredibly wealthy and luxury goods won’t put a dent in her account, but just because she loves seeing your expression when she presents you with something she knows you’ve been looking at. she gives the best gifts and goes above and beyond. if you mentioned needing a hair dryer, she’ll get you one- as well as a bunch of different diffusers, different types of brushes or combs, and hair treatments. if you’re walking down a street and stare at something in a shop window for a little too long, mel takes a mental note. the next time you see each other, she has the item you were looking at in her hands. jewelry, knick-knacks, sweets, and new clothing are her favorite things to gift you.

“mel, you really didn’t have to.” you’d whisper, holding a pair of brand-new golden hoop earrings, in the shape of stars. “nonsense. you had your eyes on them, so you naturally had to have them.”

sevika;

✧.* words of affirmation; sevika is not good with words. she’s not good at being vulnerable. so words of affirmation are definitely something that she struggles with. she’ll comfort you, she’ll reassure you, and she’ll be a shoulder for you to cry on, but talking about her own feelings is just… difficult for sevika. regardless, she’ll try.

“look. i don’t do this… i don’t know how to.” sevika would whisper, looking… somewhere. not at you, it’s clear that she’s nervous. “i love you. i love you a lot.”

✧.* quality time; sevika loves her quality time with you. yes, she’s a busy woman, but she’ll still do her best to involve you in everything she can. running errands for silco, filling out piles of paperwork, late night games at the casino, etc. even if it’s something as simple as a smoke break outside, sevika wants you to be by her side (unless you have problems with that, then she doesn’t mind). she’ll do the same for you, of course. she wants to be involved however she can be, so even if you’re doing something as mundane as picking up a prescription, sevika wants to be there with you!

✧.* physical touch; sevika was very touch-starved before she met you. no time nor desire for relationships, the only companionship she had coming from zaun’s brothel. so now, she’ll rest your head on her shoulder, sit you on her lap, squeeze your shoulder in reassurance, have a hand on your thigh… sevika craves that contact. now that she has it, she has you, she can’t get enough of touching you one way or the other.

“hey, babe? i’ve got a shit ton of paperwork to fill out.” sevika would call out to you. it’s clear that she’s annoyed, so why is she calling on you? “come sit in my lap. make it more bearable.”

✧.* acts of service; sevika’s strongest love language. her name means ‘servant of god,’ after all. fiercely loyal to silco for years, and now fiercely loyal to you. she will do absolutely anything she can to make things easier, to make you happy. she’ll clean for you, zip up your clothes, braid your hair when you don’t feel like it, clasp necklaces, run grocery trips when you’re too tired to do it yourself, the whole nine yards. sevika likes to feel needed, so the second you mention needing to do something, she’s on it. you could say you had food that needed taking out of the oven, and she’d bolt to get it for you- despite the fact that you didn’t technically ask her to do anything.

✧.* gift-giving; i think that like vi, sevika wouldn’t be crazy about gift-giving and would prefer practical gifts. however, when she does give you gifts, they’re usually custom. handmade by herself or a professional in zaun. this way, sevika feels like it’s more personal, more intimate, unique to you. she at one point gifted you a custom leather bracelet with intricate engravings, and has also given you carefully crafted tote bags when she notices your own are getting worn down.

maddie;

✧.* words of affirmation; i feel like maddie would be pretty good at words of affirmation! she’s open about her feelings and her love for you. she likes to be a comforting presence for you, so words of affirmation come naturally to her. sometimes she goes a little overboard and can be a bit too forthcoming with her feelings, but it all comes from a place of love.

“i love you a lot, you know that?” maddie would ask, her lips pursing. “sometimes too much, i think. i’d keep you here to keep you out of harm’s way forever if i could.”

✧.* quality time; maddie just doesn’t have much time to spare, unfortunately. being an enforcer is time-consuming as is, but being a junior officer means hours of training, volunteering, and education. maddie can’t give you much of her time, but when she can, she makes it worth it! she’ll take you all around piltover and tell you what kinds of things she’s done in what spots, let you do (what you can with) her hair, and use her brand-new, shiny camera to take lots of photos with you. making those memories and saving them in photo form is important to maddie, seeing as she doesn’t get many opportunities to do this kind of thing. i think she’d be the type to keep a photo of you in her wallet for when she goes on dangerous missions.

✧.* physical touch; maddie loves physical touch! she’s very playful and lively, very spontaneous. she likes to keep you on your toes. giggling while snuggling you, tickling your sides, wrapping her arms around you from behind to purposely startle you. she’ll tease you, pepper kisses all over your face… maddie just finds you adorable and can’t help herself when it comes to physical affection.

“behind you! oh, sorry, did i scare you?” maddie would ask with a giggle. “aw, you’re just so cute. i can’t not hug you.”

✧.* acts of service; as an enforcer, the majority of maddie’s life is service already. she enjoys being able to help you! however, she needs to be asked to do things, as she doesn’t want to take the initiative and accidentally mess things up. as long as you actually verbalize what you need- little favors and help, maddie will gladly be of service to you. she just doesn’t want to overstep and doesn’t want to accidentally do something that does she opposite of helping you.

✧.* gift giving; maddie enjoys giving you gifts, but they’re all bought and rather small because of her time constraints. they are thoughtful, though, and with each gift comes a very sweet card! written in neat penmanship, both sides of the card covered in her adoration for you. maddie would likely give you things like jewelry, candles, sweets, blankets, and weather-appropriate clothing.

lest;

✧.* words of affirmation; lest is great when it comes to words of affirmation. half of her job is speaking to clients and putting their nerves to rest. so doing the same to her girlfriend comes naturally to lest. her voice is always so soothing, her tone soft and sweet. it’s a talent of lest’s, always knowing exactly what to say at exactly what moment.

“don’t forget that i love you,” she’d purr, her lips close to your ear and soft eyes slipping shut. “i miss you each day i’m away from you, only hope to be with you sooner each passing second. i treasure moments like this, where you’re right here.”

✧.* quality time; lest unfortunately doesn’t have much time to spare, but her schedule is more flexible than someone like mel’s or maddie’s. if she really wants the time off, she can take it, and sometimes she does just that. you’d be surprised to see lest home so soon, but she’d just assure you that everything at work was taken care of, her clients and coworkers would be just fine. you were more important. much of what lest enjoys doing with you is in silence and relaxing together. she enjoys being able to curl up next to you with a book, or doing her nightly self-maintenance by your side.

“stay here with me, hm? i’m almost finished reading this… you help me focus.”

✧.* physical touch; lest loves and values physical touch with you. she prefers to be gentle and soft with you as she can take her time, truly savor and enjoy her time with you. but she’ll tell you exactly what she wants. whether she wants you to hold her, whether she wants to cradle your face and kiss you, hold your hands in hers, she’s very upfront and clear. lest adores the proximity, and she very often (literally) is purring while she’s curled up with her head in your lap. it’s endearing.

✧.* acts of service; lest’s entire job is made up of acts of service. so this does translate into your relationship. she loves taking care of you more than anything. let her detangle your hair after washing it, let her give you a warm bath, let her lay you on your lap and whisper sweet nothings to you as you’re pulled into sleep. let her adorn you with her own jewelry and paint your nails. lest enjoys being able to help you relax and unwind, especially after particularly taxing days. knowing that she can have that effect on you makes lest feel both needed, and significant.

✧.* gift giving; lest is very good at giving gifts. she knows some of the finest craftsmen in piltover, and she’s always able to give you something completely unique to you. most of the time it’s some kind of incense, fragrance, or jewelry, as is fitting for lest. scarves made by the same people who crafted hers, and earrings by some of the most experienced metal smiths. but she also is the type of person to buy everything you touch at the store simply because she saw that you were interested in it. that is if you let her, of course.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Master Dialogue Writing Techniques for Engaging Fiction (For Writers)

(Beware, long post!)

As fiction writers, we all know that effective dialogue is essential for bringing our stories and characters to life. After all, the way our protagonists, antagonists, and supporting players speak to one another is one of the primary ways readers get to know them on a deep, intimate level. Dialogue reveals personality, uncovers motivation, and propels the narrative forward in a way that felt narration simply can't match.

But nailing natural, compelling dialogue is easier said than done. It's a craft that takes serious skill to master, requiring writers to have a keen ear for authentic speech patterns, a nimble handle on subtext and implication, and the ability to strike that delicate balance between being true to real-world conversation while also keeping things snappy, dynamic, and laser-focused on the story at hand.

If you're someone who struggles with crafting dialogue that truly sings, never fear. In this in-depth guide, I'm going to dive deep into the techniques and best practices that will help you elevate your dialogue writing to new heights. By the end, you'll have a toolbox full of strategies to ensure that every exchange between your characters is as gripping, revealing, and unforgettable as possible.

The Fundamentals of Effective Dialogue

Before we get into the more advanced nuances of dialogue writing, let's start by covering some of the foundational principles that all great fictional conversations are built upon:

Reveal Character One of the primary functions of dialogue is to give readers a window into who your characters are as people. The way they speak — their word choices, their tone, their body language, their turns of phrase — should provide vivid insight into their personalities, backgrounds, values, quirks, and emotional states.

Think about how much you can glean about someone just from how they communicate in real life. Do they use a lot of slang and shorthand? Are they verbose and flowery with their language? Do they struggle to make eye contact or fail to respond directly to questions? All of these subtle linguistic cues are powerful tools for crafting multi-dimensional characters.

Drive the Plot Forward While revelations about character are crucial, you also want to ensure that your dialogue is constantly pushing the story itself forward. Each exchange should feel purposeful, moving the narrative along by introducing new information, triggering plot points, creating conflict, or prompting characters to make pivotal decisions.

Dialogue that feels aimless or extraneous will ultimately bore readers and detract from the forward momentum of your story. Every line should have a clear intent or function, whether it's uncovering a hidden truth, setting up a future complication, or escalating the tension in a high-stakes moment.

Establish Distinct Voices In a story featuring multiple characters, it's crucial that each person has a clearly defined and differentiated way of speaking. Readers should be able to tell who's talking just from the rhythm, diction, and personality of the dialogue, without any additional context clues.

This doesn't mean every character has to have an over-the-top, hyper-stylized way of communicating. In fact, the most effective character voices often feel grounded and natural. But there should still be distinct markers — whether it's word choice, sentence structure, tone, or speech patterns — that make each person's voice instantly recognizable.

Convey Subtext While the literal words being spoken are important, great dialogue also traffics heavily in subtext — the unspoken emotional undercurrents, power dynamics, and hidden agendas that simmer beneath the surface of a conversation.

The most compelling exchanges happen when characters are communicating on multiple levels simultaneously. Perhaps they're saying one thing out loud while their body language and tone convey a completely different sentiment. Or maybe they're engaged in a subtle war of wits, trading verbal jabs that reveal deeper wells of resentment, attraction, or vulnerability.

Mastering the art of subtext is key to creating dialogue that feels layered, lifelike, and imbued with dramatic tension.

Strategies for Writing Snappy, Realistic Dialogue

Now that we've covered the foundational principles, let's dive into some specific techniques and best practices that will take your dialogue writing to the next level:

Omit Unnecessary Details One of the biggest mistakes many writers make with dialogue is bogging it down with too much extraneous information. In real life, people rarely speak in perfectly composed, grammatically correct full sentences. We stumble over our words, interrupt each other, trail off mid-thought, and pack our speech with filler words like "um," "uh," and "you know."

While you don't want to go overboard with mimicking that messiness, you should aim to strip your dialogue of any overly formal or expository language. Stick to the essentials — the core thoughts, feelings, and information being exchanged — and let the subtext and character voices do the heavy lifting. Your readers will fill in the gaps and appreciate the authenticity.

Master the Art of Subtext As mentioned earlier, crafting dialogue that's rich in subtext is one of the keys to making it feel gripping and lifelike. Think about how much is often left unsaid in real-world conversations, with people dancing around sensitive topics, conveying hidden agendas, or engaging in subtle power struggles.

To layer that sense of unspoken tension into your own dialogue, consider techniques like:

• Having characters contradict themselves or say one thing while their body language says another

• Utilizing loaded pauses, interruptions, and moments of uncomfortable silence

• Injecting subtle sarcasm, skepticism, or implication into a character's word choices

• Allowing characters to talk past each other, missing the unspoken point of what the other person is really saying

The more you can imbue your dialogue with that layered, emotionally-charged subtext, the more it will resonate with readers on a deeper level.

Establish Distinct Voices As mentioned earlier, ensuring that each of your characters has a clearly defined and differentiated speaking voice is crucial for great dialogue. But how exactly do you go about accomplishing that?

One effective strategy is to give each person a unique set of verbal tics, idioms, or speech patterns. Maybe one character is prone to long-winded, flowery metaphors, while another speaks in clipped, efficiency-minded sentences. Perhaps your protagonist has a habit of ending statements with questioning upticks, while the sarcastic best friend always punctuates their barbs with an eye roll.

You can also play with differences in diction, syntax, and even accent/dialect to further distinguish how your characters communicate. The key is to really get to know the unique personality, background, and psychology of each person — then let those elements shine through in how they express themselves.

Lean Into Conflict and Confrontation When it comes to crafting gripping dialogue, conflict is your friend. The most compelling exchanges often arise from characters butting heads, engaging in verbal sparring matches, or working through deep-seated tensions and disagreements.

Conflict allows you to showcase the high stakes, unresolved needs, and deeper emotional currents that are driving your characters. It forces them to make bold choices, reveals aspects of their personalities that might not otherwise surface, and generates the kind of dramatic tension that will really hook your readers.

Of course, you'll want to avoid making every single dialogue scene a full-blown argument. But learning to sprinkle in well-placed moments of friction, confrontation, and clashing agendas is a surefire way to elevate the energy and impact of your character interactions.

Read Your Dialogue Out Loud One of the most valuable tricks for ensuring your dialogue sounds natural and lifelike is to read it aloud as you're writing. Hearing the words out loud will quickly expose any clunky phrasing, overly formal grammar, or inauthentic rhythms that would otherwise go unnoticed on the page.

Pay close attention to how the dialogue rolls off your tongue. Does it have a smooth, conversational flow? Or does it feel stilted and unnatural? Are your characters' unique voices shining through clearly? Are there any spots where the back-and-forth starts to drag or feel repetitive?

Actively listening to your dialogue — and making adjustments based on how it sounds in the real world — is an essential part of the writing process. It's one of the best ways to refine and polish those character interactions until they feel truly alive.

Hopefully, this can help you all!

The key is to always keep your focus on authenticity. Ask yourself: how would real people actually speak?

Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've just launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!

[fairiesthrum]

sukuna x reader where you aren’t his favorite concubine. you aren’t cute, joyful, sensitive—you’re simply dull with quite the sick sense of humor that have men running for the hills.

you are beautiful, which most would say was the only value you have to offer as a woman of your stature, or else, sukuna wouldn’t have welcomed you into his harem. though still, you aren’t as captivating as his current fixation.

but of course, for a man like him, lovely and timid and weak become oh so boring soon enough. so much so that sukuna can’t seem to stop his eyes from wandering over to you.

[tsumuus]

teacher izuku midoriya with a crush on his coworker

The bell rang, signaling the end of another school day at UA High. The corridors were soon filled with the sound of chattering students and the shuffling of feet as everyone made their way out. Izuku Midoriya, now a seasoned hero and a dedicated teacher, walked through the halls with a gentle smile, his eyes occasionally glancing at the groups of students passing by. Despite the many years that had passed, his passion for nurturing the next generation of heroes had only grown.

He made his way to the teachers' lounge, hoping for a moment of peace before tackling the mountain of paperwork awaiting him. As he pushed open the door, he was greeted by the sight of you, sitting on the couch with a stack of assignments in your lap. You taught a different course to the same grade, and your classrooms were right next to each other. Your playful demeanor often lit up the otherwise serious atmosphere of the school.

"Hey, Midoriya!" you called out, waving a hand in greeting. There was a playful glint in your eye as you looked up from your papers.

Izuku's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you. Despite his years of hero work and teaching, he still felt a bit awkward around you. It wasn't just your looks that captivated him but also the way you seemed to effortlessly brighten up any room you entered. He walked over to the coffee machine, trying to act casual as he filled a mug.

"Hi," he replied, his voice steady but with a hint of nervousness that only he could detect. He took a deep breath and turned to face you, leaning against the counter.

You tilted your head slightly, a teasing smile on your lips. "Rough day?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, not really. Just the usual end-of-day exhaustion." He paused, glancing at the papers in your lap. "How about you? How's everything going with your class?"

You sighed dramatically, placing a hand on your forehead. "Oh, you know, the kids are great, but this grading is going to be the death of me." There was a sparkle in your eyes as you exaggerated your troubles, and Izuku couldn't help but smile at your theatrics.

He watched you for a moment, admiring the way you managed to find joy even in mundane tasks. He wished he could express how much he admired that about you. Instead, he simply nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

"You always seem to handle it well," he said, his voice soft. "The students really look up to you."

You looked up at him, a genuine smile replacing your playful one. "Thanks, Midoriya. That means a lot coming from you."

He felt a warmth spread through his chest at your words. Despite the countless times you'd had similar exchanges, each one felt special to him. He wanted to say more, to let you know how much he valued your presence, but the words always seemed to get stuck in his throat.

As you returned to your grading, Izuku couldn't help but steal glances at you. Your playful nature, the way you interacted with the students, and your ability to make even the most boring tasks seem fun – all of it drew him to you. He admired you deeply, but he was also aware of the awkwardness that still lingered within him, a remnant of his younger years.

Finishing his coffee, he decided to muster up the courage to speak more openly. "You know, it's really nice having a colleague like you," he began, his voice a bit hesitant. "Someone who can make even the toughest days a little brighter."

You looked up, surprised but pleased. "Thanks, Midoriya. That means a lot."

He nodded, feeling a sense of accomplishment at having expressed a bit of what he felt. As he made his way to the door, he paused and turned back to you. "If you ever need help with grading or anything else, just let me know. I'd be happy to lend a hand."

Your eyes sparkled with that familiar playful glint as you replied, "I'll keep that in mind, Midoriya. Don't be surprised if I take you up on that offer."

He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes. "I'd like that."

With that, he left the lounge, his heart feeling lighter. He knew it would take time for him to fully open up, but he was willing to wait. After all, you were worth it.

masterlist

[daycourtofficial]

I’m Still Stuck in the Moment

Summary: a mistake on a mission causes you to lose your memories from the last five years, including the new mating bond between you and Azriel. Can he help you get your memories back, or will you never remember the past five years?

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Author’s note: this has been a wip since October I really hope you guys like it. It’s also my longest fic to date - so please enjoy! 💕

“Stealth missions are so boring,” Cassian states from behind you.

“Maybe that’s why you usually don’t get assigned on stealth missions, dummy,” you reply while looking through the desk drawers.

“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be looking for. Sometimes Azriel talks and I just tune him out.” Cassian mimes with his hands a talking motion and rolls his eyes.

“Cassian, why are you even on this mission if you don’t know what we’re looking for and you don’t like stealth missions?” You ask not looking up at him as you search through the papers on the desk.

“Hmm,” he says, pretending to search through the papers as he drops his voice, “it’s been a while since we’ve hung out the two of us.”

You pause and turn to look at him, a big grin overtaking your face.

“You missed me,” you say, delight coating your voice.

“No, I didn’t say that. You’re twisting my words,” he says, pretending to be annoyed, going to search a different part of the room.

You had been a part of the inner circle for about three years when the mating bond snapped into place. All throughout those three years Cassian did everything he could think of to put you and Azriel together. He’d constantly ask you two to dinner and be ‘sick’ and then magically be okay the next day. He’d force you two to sit next to each other during every dinner, solstice, lunch, breakfast, meeting. Any event where you had to sit down, you had to sit next to each other. Anytime you had to be flown somewhere, Cassian would mysteriously have flown away, leaving Azriel to fly you. The cauldron works hard, but Cassian works harder.

No one else could figure out Cassian’s borderline obsession with the two of you. Whenever Rhys or Feyre or anyone would ask him, he’d simply shrug and say “I have a hunch” or, if he was feeling particularly chatty, “I think they’d have stunning children”.

The truth was Cassian loved the both of you so much that he wanted to see you two happy. He also knew there was something between the two of you, he just didn’t know what. He was there the day you and Azriel were introduced, and he felt something. He wasn’t sure if it was possible to feel someone else’s mating bond, but he could feel the potential between you two.

You laugh as you continue rifling through the desk. “You know Cassian if you want to spend time together all you had to do was ask-“

You’re cut off by a cloud of pink dust coming out of a drawer you opened and covering your face. You start coughing and backing away.

“Shit,” Cassian says, coming over to you. He starts looking you over, assessing for damage.

“I’m fine,” you say, in between coughs, “dusty old drawer.”

Cassian looks skeptical. “Yes, because pink dust is so common.”

You roll your eyes. “We’ve searched the room, there’s nothing here. Let’s go home.”

The mission debrief was short - not much to report. The two of you searched an abandoned outpost, seeing if anything of interest was left behind, finding nothing of value or interest.

You enjoyed stealth missions, but you especially loved coming home to your overly protective mate. You two had a tradition - your own personal debrief, where Azriel would inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury. Wherever you were injured, whether it be bruise, scrap, or cut, he would place long kisses on the spot.

“Better than a healer,” he’d say.

The length of the mission would determine how long the two of you stayed locked up in each other. You two usually spent double the length of the mission together uninterrupted.

Once, after a four day long mission, no one had seen either of you for a week. Rhys had to send a telepathic message to find proof of life from either of you.

That night, Azriel checked your wounds, which you’re not even sure you had any. You considered even “accidentally” cutting your finger, but decided against it.

-

You woke up to a dark room, feeling a heavy presence wrapped around you. Whoever it was was massive, incredibly warm, and had quite the grip on you.

You’re not crazy about casual flings, but it’s not too unheard of, especially considering you spent last night drinking with Cassian and Mor at Rita’s. Mor loved playing matchmaker with you, trying to set you up with the most eligible males she could find.

You look around the room, the realization of being naked hitting you. You spot a pile of clothes on the floor and gently lift the arm off of you and slip out from under the male. You grab the clothes, putting the shirt on first. It seems to be the mystery male’s - it’s incredibly long on you, smelling of pine and mist.

“Going somewhere?” the male asks, rising up from the bed to meet you where you stand.

“Yes, I’m uh I’m so sorry but I don’t remember getting here, so I’m just going to head home.” You say, walking backwards towards the door. As the male comes closer, you recognize him.

“Azriel?” You ask.

“Yes, who else would I be?” Azriel replies, a hint of confusion dancing in his eyes, “come back to bed, you’re probably just confused after a dream.”

“Uh, wow, um I-“ you dart your eyes around the room “I’m so sorry but I don’t remember how I got here, let me go back to my room.”

He stops, all signs of playfulness gone. “You don’t have a room. This is your room. This is our room.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sweetheart, you moved into my room a few years ago. Your room is just another guest room now.”

You blush at the nickname. Despite your best efforts, he had hardly said much to you in the time you’ve known him. Despite the nickname, the weight of his words starts to settle on you.

“Um, no I have a room here. This isn’t a very good joke, Az.” You say, opening the door to go to your room across the hall. Your feet carry you to your room, your hand resting on the knob as Azriel reaches for you, calling for you. You’re not sure why there’s such confusion in his tone. You open the door to what used to be your room, only to find it devoid of any signs you had lived in it.

The room looked like it had the day you moved in, sans the welcome basket Feyre and Rhys had assembled for you and left on the bed. The blue barren walls stare back at you, the four poster bed neatly made.

No hearth in the fire, no books on the nightstand, no flowers on the desk. Even your beloved stuffed wolf that Cassian teased you about was nowhere to be seen.

“Azriel, where is my stuff?”

Azriel stares at you, in utter shock and disbelief. He grabs your hand, leading you through the house. You’re forced to follow him, due to both his tight but gentle grip on you and your curiosity at where all of your things went. The sounds of his footsteps echo through the hall, a level of noise you’ve never heard from him. Usually he glides through these halls, not a trace of noise made to alert anyone of his presence.

“Azriel, what’s wrong?” You keep asking, and he won’t reply until you’re face to face with Rhys’s bedroom door, where Azriel starts banging fiercely on it.

Cassian is the first to poke his head out, his door down the hall from Rhys’s. Once he sees Azriel is the one causing all the commotion, he comes out into the hall, looking around for any unseen threats.

Rhys opens the door, a pair of sweatpants hastily put on as he allows the three of you entry. You assume Rhys had the same reaction to Cassian, annoyance quickly changing to concern at Azriel’s tone.

You assume that Azriel, Rhys, and Feyre are all communicating telepathically because it is dead silent in the room until Feyre comes up and tells you to have a seat in one of their chairs by the fire.

“Okay, now tell me, what happened?” Rhys asked, putting his hands on your shoulders in reassurance.

“Well I um think I’m missing a few pieces but uh last night I went to Rita’s with Cassian and Mor, I got pretty drunk, and I woke up naked in Azriel’s room. I woke up, I tried to leave, only to find out my room is gone.”

Cassian looks at you, concern etching his face, “we went to Rita’s?” He asks, pointing a finger between you and him.

“Yeah,” you say, “you had been out to see Devlen and when you came back you asked if Mor and I wanted to go out with you. No one else was here.” You look to Feyre and Rhys, becoming even more confused. “Why are you guys all back so early?”

“What do you mean “back early”?”

“Well, Azriel had some mission on the continent, and Feyre and Rhys were visiting the summer court with Amren.”

“Mother help us,” Cassian muttered, as he realized his error, dragging a hand across his face. “On our mission yesterday, she breathed in an unknown powder. It had slipped my mind, she seemed so fine, I didn’t think anything of it.”

You could feel the anger vibrating off of Azriel as he turned to Cassian, spitting “What do you mean you didn’t think anything of it? You didn’t think anything of my mate on your mission?”

Azriel’s words don’t register with you as you were too focused on Cassian’s. “But I didn’t go on any missions yesterday. I spent the day at the library, doing research. Cassian found me, asked me to go to Rita’s, and I told him I’d pay for all of his drinks if he went down to the bottom level of the library.”

“Oh, Mother.” Cassian muttered. “Let’s stop for a moment.” Rhys said, crouching in front of you. His violet eyes shone with kindness and concern as he tells you, “Feyre and I went to the summer court with Amren five years ago.”

“That’s not possible” you scoff, “you guys just left three days ago.”

You look towards Azriel, his usual stoicism a thing of comfort in times like this. Instead you’re met with deep despair as he looks back at you, and somehow you can feel that despair deep in your chest.

Rhys moves away from you as Azriel walks towards you and crouches down in front of you, looking at you like you hold his entire life in the palm of your hands, “Sweetheart,” he starts, “what am I to you?”

Your cheeks flare with heat. You start stammering, his gaze overwhelming. He wants some specific answer, this you know. His gaze is piercing and you can’t look away.

“When we were in the summer court,” Feyre starts musing, “that was… before, right?”

“Before what?” You ask, while Azriel nods his head, confirming Feyre’s question.

The room has grown silent again, before Azriel takes your hands and says “before we became mates.”

Your cheeks are on fire now, wishing you could be having this conversation in private, instead of in front of your family.

“Wait, is that why you came back early? You realized we were mates when you were on the continent?” You whisper the last part as of it’s a secret.

As if Azriel’s face couldn’t show you anymore devastation, he replies, “Sweetheart, we’ve been mated for two years.”

You couldn’t have heard him correctly. “I’m sorry,” you say, “have you been keeping it from me for two years? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rhys steps in, sparing Azriel the pain of further explaining this to you, “you two have been mates for two years. The war with Hybern is over.”

You look into everyone’s eyes, trying to find a trace of humor, “this isn’t a funny joke, it’s quite cruel.”

“No one is joking,” Cassian says. You stand up, beginning to pace the room.

“No no no, you have to be, because either Mor thought this would be a funny joke because of my crush on Azriel or I’ve forgotten the last five years of my life, including getting a mate and surviving the war.”

You look around the room, everyone looking at either you or Azriel, not a trace of humor in the room.

“This has to be a joke because how cruel would it be for Azriel to find a mate just for them to forget everything about him. Five years! Five years of my life are gone! Up to this point in time, Azriel has said maybe five words to me!”

You are hyperventilating by this point, pacing the room, shaking.

“Rhys,” Azriel says, “please.”

Rhys envelops you in a hug, and everything goes dark for you as you slump into his arms. He picks you up, gently laying you on their couch, draping a blanket over you.

Everyone in the room is just staring at you, praying for you to just jump up and tell them this was all a joke. Azriel just sits on the floor next to you, holding your hand, tears streaming down his face.

“I-“ he starts saying quietly, “I-uh I always wondered how the Cauldron would make me suffer for making her my mate. I always knew it would take her away from me in the end, but not like this. I never could have dreamt of this outcome. I never.. never could have imagined how painful it’d be to see her forget me.”

No one is dry-eyed. Everyone is devastated for you, but especially for Azriel. Cassian, Feyre, and Rhys leave the bedroom, allowing Azriel to stay with you while Rhys keeps you under. They all head to Rhys’ study.

“There is some good news in this.”

Cassian and Feyre snap their heads to look at him, urging him to continue.

“When I was in her mind to sedate her, I could tell she still had memories of the past five years. Some of them were memories so ingrained to her that she has no idea what they are. Another thing is that I could tell the memories were there, they’re just… locked up.”

“Locked up? Like a prisoner?” Feyre asks.

“Yes,” Rhys replies, “like a prisoner.”

“So this powder is keeping her memories hostage?”

He sighs, looking towards the door, thinking about his brother’s face. “It would appear that way.”

Madja was called to look over you in your unconscious state, and after she found nothing wrong, they decided to wake you back up.

While you were unconscious, they decided that Mor and Cassian would watch over you unless you ask otherwise. Rhys wakes you up gently, asking if you need anything. After you decline, he leaves you alone with Mor and Cassian.

“So, um..” you start, not sure where to begin. “Five years?”

Mor nods.

“The war is over?”

Cassian smiles solemnly and nods.

“And Az and I?”

Cassian’s grin widens as he looks at you, thinking about the love you share with his brother. You play with your thumbs, unsure what to ask.

“What do you guys, uh, think of us? Do we seem happy?”

Cassian snorts while Mor replies, “oh we adore the two of you. Cassian is convinced he knew of your mating bond the day you two met.”

Cassian puffs out his chest in pride. “I most certainly knew, years before they did.”

“What made you know?” You ask, curiosity filling your eyes as you sat up.

“Well,” Cassian says, “the two of you didn’t interact much the first few years. Azriel needs time to warm up to people, and he’s worried he’ll scare people off if he comes on too strong. But I could just tell that he so desperately wanted to be your friend.”

“Hmm,” you muse, looking at Cassian in a confused way, “I always assumed he didn’t like me.”

Cassian looks at you quizzically, “and why is that?”

You sigh. “I always thought he found me… too soft. Too delicate.” You look out the window, and Cassian feels a pang of guilt. He knew Azriel could be a bit icy at times, but he hadn’t remembered what it felt like to not have that friendship.

Cassian studies you, “Why’d you think that?”

“I don’t know, it was just little things, I suppose. He’d never laugh at my jokes or talk to me much. Once you had paired us to be sparring partners and he just told you no and walked away to work with someone else.”

You remember a version of Azriel who hardly knew you. You’ve been placed in time right before Cassian started forcing you two to spend time together. For you, Azriel is practically a stranger.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks, “I don’t know him,” you say, “but it’s like my body knows him. I don’t.. know him.”

You take a deep breath, looking around the room to avoid Cassian’s sad face. “But I want him here. I don’t know why, maybe it’s the bond, but I just… want him here.”

You look down sighing, “I feel so bad that this is happening to him, he doesn’t deserve this. Even if I don’t know him.”

Cassian didn’t think his heart could break anymore, but he was wrong. Watching you cry over Azriel’s predicament but not your own gutted him. He moved to sit next to you on the couch and pulled you into his lap, letting you cry for a while.

After several hours of sitting with Mor and Cassian, Elain had recommended you get some fresh air, take a walk in the gardens. You ask if Azriel can join you, so he is staying near you, keeping an eye on you, but not too close.

You walked slowly, not sure if you wanted Azriel to catch up to you or to stay back. You felt gutted that this would happen to Azriel, despite your next to non-existent relationship with him up to this point.

The male trailed behind you, keeping the same distance in spite of your constantly changing pace. Your thoughts whirled and swirled, much like the shadows that dance around your mate. Your mate. You have a mate. And he’s here. That realization caused you to take some deep breaths, trying to keep yourself from spiraling into a panic.

Your brain can’t recall these things, but your body calls for him, wanting you to reach out and grab his hand. It is telling you that you stand on his left normally, allowing free range of motion for his dominant hand. It is telling you to let him lay on top of you, resting his head on your chest while he dozes off to nap. It is telling you to reach out and cup his jaw, that he will smile as you do so and pull you closer to him.

You don’t have memories of him, you have imprints of him, leaving whispers into your skin of how you were made for him. The yearning becomes too much and you need to hear him, so you turn to him and ask, “who did it snap for first?”

He blinks, a bit taken aback by your talking to him. He hasn’t heard you speak since the realization in Rhys’s office, much less speak to him directly. He takes longer strides, catching up to you quickly. He clears his throat and looks at you, “it snapped for me first, and I got to watch it snap for you.”

A soft smile graces his lips as he recalls the moment, so clearly in his memories he wishes he could send it directly to you. He can, he thinks, deciding that if you don’t have your memories, he’ll provide them for you.

“I bought you a locket for your birthday. A bit presumptuous, I know, but I had Feyre do a tiny portrait of myself to put in the locket. I also had a tiny piece of one of my siphons placed in the center so you could carry a piece of me everywhere.

“Your face lit up, but I was so nervous. I was trembling as I gave it to you. I almost dropped it when you asked me to clasp it around your neck. You hugged me so tightly, the locket pressing to my chest siphon and my siphon glowed.”

He smiles and reaches for your hand out of instinct, and you don’t pull away. When he notices what he’s done, he goes to retract his hand, but you clasp onto him harder.

“You had told me you would carry your loved ones in your pocket if you could and I got you the closest thing I could to that. I also had a shadow stay in the locket, they rotate who gets to be in the locket, but they like being close to you too. And in case of emergency they can slip out and find me.”

He pulls at the collar of his shirt, pulling out his own chain with a heart locket at the end. “You gave me one a week later. No siphon, but you used some of your light magic to embue a tiny stone so that it will glow forever.”

The locket looks so familiar, as if it was in a fairy tale you had read as a child. Your hand twitches, as if it wants to touch the locket. “You gave me the locket and when you saw it on my chest, your eyes lit up and I could feel you in my chest.”

You motion to a bench in the garden, and the two of you sit underneath a beautiful cherry blossom tree, its petals falling in the wind.

He moves his collar to tuck the necklace back in, pats it to his chest, then asks, “I’m guessing this is a lot to take in?”

You nod, “I mean it’s just been what five years? I have a hot mate that up until now he’s had no idea I’m hopelessly in love with him, the war is over, I missed Feyre and Rhys’s mating ceremony. It’s all sunshines and rainbows.”

He looks at you, “if it makes you feel better, they snuck out and did the ceremony in secret.”

He hears you grumble, “bastards” under your breath, making him chuckle.

“As for the hot mate who had no idea you were in love with him,” he pauses, watching your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, “he was the same way.”

You gape at him, hitting him on the shoulder, “don’t tell me things just to try to make me feel better!”

He laughs, “I’m not lying!”

You scoff, “You’ve spoken to me three times! One of those times you had asked me to move.”

He looks down, “okay maybe I wasn’t great at conveying it to you, but I thought about you constantly.”

You scoff again, thumping his chest, “you did not!”

“I did so!” He replies, just as childishly as you, “I spent so much of my energy trying to keep my shadows from harassing you at all hours. They kept pulling me, trying to coerce me into rooms you were in.”

He turns to look at you, your eyes a gateway to the before.

“I thought you were so pretty when you first showed up, I forgot how to breathe.”

Your cheeks heat as you look down at the ground, Azriel’s undivided attention being too much.

You look up at him, “okay, well if you were soooo in love with me, how come you refused to spar with me?”

You cross your arms over your chest, looking at the shadowsinger next to you, unable to believe that he’s your mate.

His wings flare ever so slightly, as he quietly tells you, “because being that close to you was too much.”

You look at him quizically, not quite getting what he’s referencing.

Azriel, for all his credit, is trying to be as coy as possible. The you from the present has an absolutely filthy mouth, the dirty talk between you two could strip paint off of walls. But this version of you? It feels wrong, violating almost. You’re not some innocent doe, far from it, but the way you two speak now was built on years of trust, a foundation that doesn’t exist for the version of you he’s looking at.

He sighs, coughing as he says, “I knew if I were to get that close to you, I’d have a hard time and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of you.”

You bring your hand up to your mouth, giggling. “Aww the big, scary shadowsinger is afraid he’ll get a hard on while sparring. Do you have these fears with anyone else? Cassian, perhaps?”

He laughs, the first genuine laugh since you woke up yesterday morning. “Can’t say I’ve ever had that concern with him.” He shakes his head, “but also Cassian isn’t a pretty female.”

You smile, “no, I guess not. He’s not pretty, not like you.” You clamp your mouth shut, despite knowing you’ve been seeing him for years. Parts of you know this, but other parts feel the newness, the uncertainty.

He smiles, looking at you through the side of his eye. “You think I’m pretty?” It’s a sentiment you’ve told him before, but this version of you thinking it too is fascinating.

“Oh yeah, prettiest male I’ve ever seen.” You blush, deciding to tell him everything, “I uh- I asked Mor to make sure I can always sit next to you when we go out.”

Your confession causes him to pause, something he never knew about you. “Oh?” He asks, curious about this new information.

“Yeah, once she even pushed Cassian out of a seat so I could make it in time.” You laugh, remembering the shock on his face as he laid on the ground and you quickly grabbed his seat. “I thought if I sat next to you, you’d uh- fall in love with me.” You rush out the last part, your voice going quiet.

“But uh, I actually told her to forget about it, just last night. Or whenever that was….” You trail off, remembering your current predicament.

But Azriel was stuck in the past, stuck on your latest admission. “Wait, why did you tell her to let it go?”

You sigh, picking up a dandelion out of the grass, “well, I’d try really hard to get you to notice me or talk to me, but you never did.” You pick at the petals of the flower. “I figured I was annoying you, or you hated that I was keeping other girls from being able to chat you up. So I told her to let it go.”

Azriel balks at your admission, having no idea the extent of his effect on you. “I had no idea how to talk to you! You were so pretty, especially whenever we were at Rita’s.” He sighs, remembering how he’d overanalyze how to reapond to you, only to never say anything.

“It wasn’t until… Cassian.” He pauses, trailing off. “Cassian what?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest at the slight breeze.

“Cassian told me he spent a lot of time trying to seat us next to each other, to get me to talk to you. I wonder if he… got the idea after talking to you last night about it.”

You shake your head, “no, I only told Mor that - no way he knows.”

Azriel looks at you, “And how is the biggest gossip and busybody you know?”

Your eyes widen, realization hitting you, “oh my god,” you whine. “He heard me! He heard how pathetic I am!”

Azriel rolls his eyes, but you continue, “I was so drunk! I kept talking about you - and how you smell, and your hands, and your legs, oh my god.”

Your cheeks flare in heat, and your voice drops to a whisper. “I told Mor I had a dirty dream about you the other day - in detail!”

He smirks, “and what were we doing in this dirty dream?”

Your cheeks flame tomato red, as he laughs at you. “I guarantee you, sweetheart, whatever it was, we’ve done dirtier.”

He’s always enjoyed making you flustered, but this is an opportunity to fluster past you, one he will not let go to waste.

“About that,” you start, a sheepish grin adorning the cherry red of your cheeks. “How is our sex life? Is it good?” You ask, your voice lowered.

He laughs, “we make Cassian look like a prude with the amount of sex we have.” You gasp, approval for this future version of yourself. He leans in close to your ear, and whispers, “genuinely the best sex of my life.”

You bite your lip, but he continues. “Our general rule is for every night I’m gone on a mission, when I come back I have to make you finish at least once per day I’m gone.”

He chuckles low, the memory coming to him so easily. “I was once gone for twelve nights.” He pulled back, looking into your eyes. “And yes, all in one night.”

Your eyes widen, and you take a quick glimpse down towards his crotch. He watches you check him out, a smile ghosting on his lips.

You spent several days like that, most of your time spent with Azriel. You asked him about your lives together - where you two lived, what your days looked like together, what your lives with the Inner Circle looked like.

“Have I been able to convince you to take a day off?” You ask, the two of you eating at your favorite cafe in Velaris. Rhys had encouraged you to explore the city, hopeful it’s constant changing is able to jog something in you.

He smiles at you, chewing his croissant. “Actually, yes.” He says after swallowing. “We actually took a vacation to Summer during this past winter.”

You gasp, your eyes widening in excitement. “I’ve always wanted to go to Summer! How was it? Did we see any mermaids?”

He chuckles, “no, much to your disappointment.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Can’t believe I didn’t get to see a mermaid.”

He smiles at your childish antics, looking at your pouting face. He still couldn’t process it - this was you, but it wasn’t his mate. You weren’t taking a bite of his croissant for yourself, you weren’t touching his knee with yours, you weren’t making up terrible excuses to hold his hand in yours.

Looking at you was excruciating, questions plagueing his mind as he looked. Will you ever remember him? Your life together? The late nights, the early mornings, the small moments that made up your relationship?

Or were you destined to be this past version of yourself forever? Would you develop new habits? Would you even fall in love with him, this version of himself who knows everything about you?

“Did we have a mating ceremony?”

He’s jolted back to the present, his mind finding itself in the past that your mind resides in. He smiles, warmth flooding his heart at the meer mention of that day. He gazes at you, telling you all about it. How all of Velaris loved you so much the town was covered in flowers, much to Cassian’s annoyance.

“I was so nervous, the whole day my hands kept shaking. The minutes before I saw you it got so bad my wings started shaking.”

“Why were you nervous?”

He breathes in deeply, surprised that tidbit came out of his mouth. He had never told you how nervous he had been - he didn’t want you to misconstrue it as reservations about you or your relationship.

He exhales, looking at his empty plate. “Being so vulnerable so publicly, declaring for everyone to know that I am yours and you are mine, felt so… intimidating.”

He grabs a napkin and starts shredding it, an effort to keep his hands occupied to keep them from shaking like they did that day. The shadowsinger rarely showed such nerves, but he always allowed you to see past the cool exterior he usually wore. “I was so scared. No one has ever loved me as openly as you do. My brothers love me, Feyre, Nesta, Mor - they love me. Elain, the Valkyries. All of them love me, but you wear your love on your sleeve. It’s practically on your face.”

He laughs as your hands reach up to your face, as if there was some physical marking there conveying your deep love.

“I’ve never had that. It made me a little scared.”

Without meaning to your hand reaches out to his, halting his napkin shredding. It’s the first time you’ve touched him since you woke up five days ago, and it lights Azriel’s heart aglow. He hadn’t realized how much he had been needing your soothing touch, the one way to know you were here with him.

He doesn’t move, allowing you to process what you’ve done as you see fit. He expects you to pull your hand back, retreating back into yourself as you used to do in the early stages of your relationship.

Your hand stays on his, your eyes meeting his. Your thumb grazes over the scarred skin, as if you could soothe the injury from centuries ago with a delicate touch.

It is quiet between you two, the sounds of the other patrons filling his ears. The soft clinking of spoons on plates, the murmured chatter, the scraping of chairs against the floor.

You’re looking at him like you know him, like you remember it all. He feels his heart in his throat, hoping to hear those words from you. You open your mouth and tell him, “I’m sure I was nervous too.”

The moment is gone, you pull your hand away to stir your coffee once more. Suddenly the patrons are too loud, their conversations too idiotic, the smell of the coffee is overwhelming.

A few days later you wake up to an empty bed in a room you aren’t familiar with. It takes you a moment to remember that you’re in Azriel’s room.

Your room.

The room around you is proof that this wasn’t a dream, despite almost two weeks having passed since your memory was lost. You get up, your nightgown grazing your thighs as you take in the room. You walk in front of the bookshelves, fingers grazing the titles.

Azriel really likes detective novels, you think. You’re continuing through when you find some unmarked books. Opening them, you find your own handwriting back at you.

Entries dated 2 years into your future, 3 years in your past. You’re skimming through the journal, Cassian having done something to annoy you to write several paragraphs until you find a new paragraph.

“Azriel.

Azriel is my mate. My mate. He gave me a locket. We stood on the balcony, just watching the stars. He told me about how the stars led him through the depths of his childhood, and how he would spend most of his nights gazing at the moon, hoping, praying for better days.

“Did you find better days?” I had asked him, and he told me, “I found you, didn’t I?”

You shut the notebook, Azriel’s words invading your sense.

“I found you, didn’t I?”

You hear his voice and are transported back, back to that rooftop, back to that cool night where he laid everything bare for you. That cool night where he draped his wings over you to keep you warm, to keep you wrapped in his arms.

You two spent all night on that roof, talking, making out like two teenagers, staying until the sun began to rose and the citizens of Velaris began waking.

You can smell the scent of cedar and mist, a smell you recognize as Azriel. You can see the slight pink hue dusting his cheeks as you kissed his face, littering his cheeks with dozens of kisses.

It all comes flooding back to you as you drop your journal, racing out of your room. You take the stairs down, searching, needing to hold him.

Him.

Your precious mate.

The male who holds an infinite amount of patience for you.

You see him as you round the corner of the kitchen, launching yourself into his arms. He catches you with a soft oof as your legs wrap around his waist. He holds you there, breathing you in, and you whisper in his ear, “I found you, didn’t I?”

Azriel grip on you tightens, a soft sob escaping him as clutches you, holding you like the world could be collapsing around him and it wouldn’t matter.

“I would have done everything to make you fall in love with me again,” he tells you, kissing your cheeks, his tears mixing with yours.

“And I would have kept falling in love with you.” You grab his face, and kiss him, pouring everything into it and down the bond. He responds with his own love and adoration down the bond, his lips soft and delicate against yours as he does so.

You two hear a groan from the doorway, but don’t pull apart. “We make food in here!” Cassian groans, stepping past you two, “go somewhere else!” He picks up a piece of a cookie and throws it at you, hitting you in the forehead.

You grumble, turning to face him, your eyebrows knitted together and a scowl on your lips. Cassian gasps, “you remember!”

You jump off of Azriel and start running towards Cassian, throwing bits of cookie at him as he runs away, “I remember you telling my mate you wish it was your memories gone so you wouldn’t have to be reminded how annoying I am!”

You chase him around the house, threatening him as you do so, until Azriel reached an arm out, pulling you into his chest, and just holds you there.

[sujiri]

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader, college!au, fluff

college student!ryomen sukuna who has a very lowkey crush on you. of course he's in denial about those feelings, thinking he's just probably bored.

college student!sukuna finding himself looking around if there is any sign of your presence. he can't even focus listening to yuuji's babbling about what to do while on their break. sukuna can't say that he has a big fat crush on you, because he doesn't. why would he say that in the first place? it's not like you're someone special.

college student!sukuna when you wouldn't even notice that he takes glances at you whenever you're talking with someone. you wouldn't even notice it, because if you did, he would just look away and make you think that it's probably nothing and messing or playing with you. probably there's something on your face, it's not like he likes you, who are you even anyway? it's not like he's interested to you.

college student!sukuna who would always notice the small details. he would practically notice the changes of your small likings, you've been wearing pink clothes? it might be your favorite color, you dislike caffeine? he wouldn't order any coffee drink or flavor for you to eat, you start wearing skirts for a while? he would even bet that you're in your period. you've been babbling about a recent book you finished reading? he would secretly read few pages to know what's keeping you hyped up. hilarious. it's not like he likes you, he's just observant.

college student!sukuna who would stay in the library for hours just to watch you studying. he would wonder why are you studying so hard, then he realize you were always second to him in class. it's not like he thinks it's cute, you're just too serious and it makes him laugh at you for trying hard. and no.. he doesn't like you, why would he? it's not like he's doing special treatments to you when he suddenly sit beside you and now he's teaching you the lesson you've been struggling for hours.

college student!sukuna who reminds mocks you that you're loosing weight, your eye bags has eye bags, complain as you slowly prepare everything. you need to eat, rest, and take your time whenever you need to. buying you some food after finding out you're staying to study. he doesn't get your stubbornness. it's not like he sees you as the smartest girl he ever met and no he doesn't like you.

college student!sukuna who glares at every guy who would stare at you so much. he hates how they can get a closer look at you and freely flirt you. he would intentionally even simply stomp on their feet or hits the drink they're holding, then saying they're on the way. it's not like he likes you, he just can't help it.

college student!sukuna who secretly starts to read poetry books just because he hears that you like men with more sense and ‘romantic’ for words. he even laughs to himself why he's doing this even though saying cheesy and corny words are not his thing. it's not like he likes you— or maybe.. likes you. just a tiny crush. (it is indeed a big fat crush and he won't confess it)

college student!sukuna who would be still so in denial that he likes you so much. he's not like that at all. if his twin, yuuji, can easily show what he loves and likes, he's the complete opposite. but that doesn't mean he'll put his chances into waste of how he values you. does he even like you? maybe.

college student!sukuna that you'll completely see the obvious things. you tried to tease that he should stop being such a lover boy. of course he would deny that cheesy and cringe word. he would call you a ‘brat’. it makes you laugh how easy to read him.

college student!sukuna who won't even realize he's staring at you while you're reading, eating, or doing the simplest things. if you ever point it out, his lips would curve into that ridiculous smirk and saying, “why? can't i enjoy a nice view?”. he likes you, that's what you thought. is that even a doubt?

college student!sukuna who once in your life seen him flustered after you kiss him on his cheek, while walking home and you and his hands are interlocked. you giggle as he clicks his tongue, saying he's not. of course he's in denial again. it's because he likes you.

[gor3-hound]

WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE - NAOYA ZENIN

ft. naoya zenin x puppy!reader

a/n: commission for the very lovely @nexysworld !! naoya is so very pretty and i was scared to write him BUT !! he was actually very fun to write. i love my asshole nepo baby :3 hope you guys enjoy, fb and reblogs are always appreciated <3

cw: 18+ content, dead dove-ish, pussy inspection, mistreatment of hybrids, forced cosmetic procedures, dub-con bcs power dynamics, praise, degradation, use of shock collars, caging, mentions of filing teeth, ear cropping, touching unhealed wounds, tail play, misogyny, spit, mean naoya, dehumanisation, orgasm denial, forced spaying, p in v, creampie, dacryphilia, neglect

word count: 3.2k words

Naoya’s bored.

It might’ve made you feel better if he had a secret soft spot - that the pressures of his clan have left him lonely and desperate for companionship, but that’s simply not the case. There’s no profound self-realization that comes with his actions, no sense of guilt when he pays one of the maids to suck him off before he kicks her to the curb.

He’s just bored. He’s always found the best cure for his boredom was to find a pretty little plaything that was willing to put up with him. But there’s only so much you can do to a human girl before she’s skittering off. Women value their life more than their job these days, a thought that has him scowling and breaking the shit in his room as soon as his latest slut cuts him off.

He needed something more permanent. A pretty thing that he can use to get his dick wet. One that isn’t crying for a relationship or money when he’s finished. He’s always found those hybrids pretty cute, and it seemed like the perfect thing to keep him entertained. A girl that knew she was lesser than him. A pet he could play with that would forgive him after a couple of head scratches and a new toy.

It’s that thought that has him dragging his ass to the nearest adoption center, his eyes scanning the kennels until he spots you.

You seem like a shy little thing, but he doesn’t see an issue with that. He’s always had more fun breaking girls in, and you���d be no exception. He hums thoughtfully for a moment, his head cocking to the side as he looks you over. He doesn’t address you or ask you any questions, but he doesn’t need to. You were cute, and that’s all he really cared about, anyway. He calls a worker over, asking to get some time alone with you.

“Well, we don't really have any private rooms for you to-”

“How much?” Naoya cuts him off without even gazing his way, his eyes locked onto your form. No point buying the goods if he doesn’t get a trial run, first.

“I'm sorry?” The worker stutters out. Naoya hates that shit. Pisses him off more than anything, acting like he doesn’t want the Zen’in’s money. Naoya knows better.

“You heard me. How much? Doesn't need to be a fancy room. Shit, I'll take a storage room. I gotta check she's worth the money, y'know?” He says with a sigh, his brows twitching slightly as he fights back a scowl.

Seems to work well enough, because the worker leads him to a staff room, telling him to wait right there. He crosses his arms over his chest, making him sigh in annoyance. He waits impatiently, but he lights up when you come padding into the room, looking all nervous.

”No need to be scared, girl.” He tells you, but his words come out in a grunt. He doesn’t really care if you’re scared of him or not, as long as you let him get a good look at you. He moves towards you when you don’t budge, gripping your chin between his fingers.

His gaze is sharp, his dark brown eyes narrowed as he looks over your features. He reaches a free hand up to your floppy ears, giving them a flick. A frown crosses over his features as he gives you an appraising gaze , clicking his tongue. “They’ll have to get done. Don’t like ‘em.”

His fingers and thumb dig into your cheeks, forcing a gap between your teeth so you open your mouth. He shoves his fingers down your throat, sighing when you gag and splutter. “Gonna have to train that outta ya. Those canines are gonna have to get fixed, too. Bet they’d fuckin’ hurt if they caught my dick.”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes your spit off on your cheek, smirking when your nose wrinkles. He reaches down, tugging on your fluffy tail with a thoughtful expression. “That can stay, though. Cute.”

”Bend over the table, pup. Spread your legs, lemme see your cunt.” He orders, releasing your tail and taking a step back. Your hesitance irritates him, and his hand comes out to smack you across your face so hard that your head snaps to the side, your ears ringing. “Don’t make me say it again. I fuckin’ hate repeating myself.”

Your tail is tucked between your legs as you shift to lean over the table, those fluffy ears pressed down firmly against your head. Doesn’t bother Naoya. He kicks your feet apart, pulling your pants and underwear down in one tug. The tail is a little bit of an obstacle still, so he sighs and scratches behind your ears.

”C’mon now, baby. I didn’t mean it.” He coos, making sure he finds the spot behind your ear that has you pushing back against his hand. His tone is condescending, but that dumb puppy brain of yours can’t register that. He grins as your tail perks up and wags, showing you off to him. “That’s better. Lemme get a look at that pretty pussy.”

He kneels behind you, spreading your folds with two fingers, humming in satisfaction as strings of slick spread and break at his actions. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t pick out a puppy for that exact reason - a few words of praise, and you were soaked. He slips a finger deep into your cunt, adding another one and scissoring them open before groaning at the tightness. You felt like a virgin, too. Perfect.

He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, wiping his spit off on your clothes before he pulls them back on. He gives your ass a few pats as he stands up, turning around to bang a few times on the door.

”Hey! I’ll take her.”

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Naoya’s unpredictable.

It’s hard to settle into a routine with him. He can be easy to handle one moment, only to switch up at the next second. He’s never kind - that’s not the right word for him - but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his moments. If you’re good, he’ll let you curl up at the foot of his bed. Sometimes he’ll even let you sit at his feet when he’s relaxing, petting your head absentmindedly.

Those moments are few and far between. For the most part, he’s cold. He doesn’t pay much attention to you unless he’s feeding you or if it’s play time.

He shows you the most attention when he wants to play. He’ll praise you, scratch behind those freshly cropped ears standing tall on your head and run his fingertips through the fur of your tail until it’s wagging fast enough that he knows you’ll be pliant and eager for anything he wants to do to you. You’d tried whining, begging, pleading… Anything just to get him to look at you and show you some affection, but you quickly learned that the only way you could guarantee something from him was to paw at the front of his pants until he’s twitching against your hand.

His choice of affection has a bit of a side effect, and you’re unlucky enough that Naoya notices it. All it takes is one little ‘good girl’ or a scratch on your head for you to be soaked, whining and rutting against any part of him you could reach. He loves feeling you wrapped around him, but he loves teasing you even more. So, naturally, as soon as realizes how desperate his touch makes you, he decides it would be a fun little game for him to see just how needy you could get.

He’s leaning back against the couch when he spots you padding over, that fluffy tail slowly picking up speed the closer he gets to you. He can’t help but chuckle when he spots you settling on the floor by his feet, a smirk spreading across his face when you rest your chin on his thigh. Your gaze flicks up to his face, a longing expression on your features. His hand comes down to pet your head, fingers scratching your scalp gently.

”You need something, girl?” He coos, tugging on one of your bandaged ears until you whimper, biting back a laugh when you lean into the touch regardless of the pain that comes with it. You’re always so eager to please, it drives him crazy.

“Need you, please.” You whine, your ears tilting back slightly, unable to press flat against your head due to the wrapping keeping them up so they heal pointed. He grins wolfishly at your words, yanking you by the collar until you’re straddling his thigh, a mischievous going in his eyes.

”Go on then, pup. I’m too tired to deal with you myself. You can handle it, can’t you?” He hums, giving your head a pat before crossing his arms behind his head as he leans back on the couch. You give him a curious little head tilt, confusion twisting your cute little face. He loves it when you give him that look - you’re just a dumb puppy, nothing more than entertainment for him. He can’t help but feel amused, shifting his leg so he can press his thigh more firmly against your core.

”You’re a big girl, aren’t you? I’m sure you can figure it out, puppy.” You seem to get the picture, a soft, needy sound rising in your throat as the hard muscle of his thigh presses against your cunt through the fabric of your shorts. Your hips start shifting on their own, rutting against him desperately. Your mouth falls open, artificially rounded canines digging into the flesh of your bottom lip.

Your hands come down to rest on your own thighs - you know better than to touch Naoya without asking, and you don’t want this to end so soon. Your nails press into your flesh, leaving indents on the surface of the skin. Naoya’s face is a mask of indifference. There’s no sign of enjoyment from him, the only hint that he isn’t completely unaffected by your actions is the tent forming beneath the fabric of his pants. You whine when you realize he isn’t even looking at you, staring over your shoulder to look over one of the paintings on the wall.

You want him inside of you, want his strong hands to grasp your thighs as he fucks into you. The thought alone has you panting, your head hanging as your tail starts to wag again, steady behind you as you grind against his thigh more harshly. Your breaths come out heavier, your cunt soaking through the fabric of your shorts to coat his own pants.

You’re so overwhelmed with your rapidly approaching orgasm, how good it feels to finally be this close to your owner that you don’t see his hand reaching for his phone until it’s too late. You yelp as your collar zaps you, the fur on your tail standing on end as the shock makes you spasm, your hips quickly pulling away from his thigh.

”I didn’t say you could cum, did I? Bad girl.” He hisses, grabbing you by the hair and dragging you across the floor, forcing you into your crate with a swift kick. He slams the door behind you, locking it before stepping back. “You can stay there for the rest of the night. If I hear you so much as fuckin’ squeak, you’re not getting let out for the rest of the week. Got it?”

You nod quickly, but that’s clearly not good enough for him. He taps at the screen of his phone a few times before pressing his thumb down for a longer period. The voltage is higher, and he doesn’t let up on shocking you until you drop against the blanket in your crate, your fingers twitching. He scoffs at the sight, letting go of the button.

”Pathetic. If I’m talking to you, I expect an answer. Surely you’re not so stupid you’ve forgotten how to use your words?”

”N-no. I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll be quiet.” You whisper, your voice shaking slightly with the effort it takes you to hold back tears.

”Stupid mutt.” He grunts, fiddling with his trousers until he can free his cock. His jaw tenses in slight annoyance at how quickly that has you perking up, your eyes wide with interest like he’s holding a damn treat up for you. He steps closer to your crate, pressing his length down against the bars above your head. Naoya can’t help but laugh as you try to crane your head to get a taste of him, his eyes shining with amusement as your tongue laps between the gaps to catch his skin.

”Look at you. You were crying a second ago, and now you’re drooling like a bitch in heat? You are the single most pitiful creature I have ever laid my eyes on.” He muses, letting out another chuckle at the whine that spills from your lips when he pulls away from the crate.

”Go to sleep.” He grunts as he tucks himself back into his trousers, his eyes trained on your as he takes a step back. “If you’re good enough, I might let you out for breakfast.”

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

The next morning, Naoya is wordless as he approaches your cage.You can tell from his narrowed, fox-like gaze that he hasn’t forgiven you from last night, his jaw set tight as if you hadn’t just made a small mistake. Naoya expected nothing but perfection from his pet, and it was something he made abundantly clear. He opens the door, his eyes narrowed in on your slumped over figure.

”Out.” The words are short and clipped, but firm, leaving no room to argue. It wasn’t a request, but a command. You weren’t stupid enough to ignore it.

He watches you crawl out of the cage, kneeling at his feet on the cold floor. You keep your gaze trained downwards, unable to meet his eyes. You look so pathetic it almost angers him, a crease forming between his brows as looks down at you. He slowly strips his clothes, his eyes locked onto you the entire time.

“Strip.” You listen, pulling your clothes off and adding them to his own pile on the floor. There’s no praise now, no attempts to get you wet enough to take him. He just pushes you down onto all fours before spitting directly onto your cunt as he forces his cock into your tight heat. It’s meant to be a punishment, but all it takes for you to get wet is the feeling of him stretching you out, your tail swaying side to side as his tip presses up against your cervix.

”Such a slut… Dripping as soon as you see cock. Bet it doesn’t even have to be mine, hmm? Could pass you around the whole clan and you’d gladly let each and every one of ‘em mount you until you were sore and dripping cum.” He spat, his hips rocking forward harshly. He builds up a steady pace, pounding into you brutally.

”Wouldn’t…” You manage to force out, brows furrowing as you try to rock back against his hips, your walls pulsing around his length. “Just you… want your pups.”

”Aww, that’s cute. You want me to breed you, girl? Is that it?” He lets out a cruel laugh, tugging on your tail to pull you back against him with each thrust, his cock brutally pounding into your tight cunt. “You think I’d let you carry my seed? That your bastard children could be sufficient heirs for the Zen’in clan? I’d never let you have puppies. Stupid fuckin’ bitch. Didn’t even realize I got you spayed? You just believe every little thing I tell you, huh?”

Fuck, he really likes the look of your tears. Nearly has him cumming from the way you look sobbing on his dick, the way you clench around him like you're trying to milk him dry despite how upset you are. It doesn't matter what he does to you, not when you're so forgiving. He knows he can say whatever he pleases and you'd still come running back to him, tail tucked between your legs like you were the one in the wrong.

He presses down between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest flat against the hard-wood floor as he keeps your ass in the air with his grip on your tail. With your back arched, the new angle allows him to fuck into you deeper, bullying himself into you without any regard for your pleasure. You were nothing more than something to use to him - a glorified fleshlight, at best. He only let you cum because of how tight you squeezed him when you did, how hot it was to see your dripping down his length.

This wasn’t about you right now - it was meant to be a punishment. You'd be lucky if he decided to let you cum in the following weeks, let alone today when he's still pissed off at you for almost breaking one of his rules.

His hips smack the fat of your ass with every thrust, low grunts spilling past his lips as he wraps your tail around his hand, smacking your thigh in frustration when you yelp at the discomfort that comes with it. He's increasingly glad with every pained whimper as his grip tightens that he decided not to dock your tail. It's so much better than a leash could ever be, forcing you back onto his imposing length everytime it gets too much for you and you try to crawl away.

“M'gonna cum.” He groans, harshly forcing your upper body further against the floor as he leans his weight on the hand pushing you down, slick sounds filling the room as he thrusts himself brutally in and out of your twitching pussy. He yanks on your tail, pulling you back against him as he cums with a grunt, his cock twitching inside of your abused cunt. He ruts his hips into you shallowly as he rides out his high before pulling out, smacking your ass once before standing up, ignoring your pleas to let you cum.

“Stupid mutt.” He spits out, rolling you onto your back with his foot, pressing it down against your stomach to hold you down. He spits on your face, a huff of laughter leaving him as your nose wrinkles. “I've been too good to you. Made you think you have a say.”

“You are a toy.” He continues, pulling his foot away with you before moving to gather his clothes. He pulls them on, leaving you panting and leaking his cum on the floor. “Something for me to use when I get bored.”

He makes his way to the door, shooting one last glance at you over his shoulder. “The quicker you learn that, the better.”

[paradiseprincesss]

my random jonathan crane headcanons 🦇☕️🩺

i’m bored at work so i decided to jot down some of my personal headcanons & thoughts of our favourite little psycho doctor :] im talking about nolanverse!jonathan crane in these also <3

warning: nsfw themes/18+ MDNI

🧸💌💉🌙

• i think he's a scorpio sun, capricorn moon, and a virgo rising because it just...makes sense

• if we're on the topic of astrology, he'd definitely think it's bullshit - like i know he'd roll his eyes as soon as someone starts to talk about astrology because where's the scientific evidence proving this stuff is legit?

• he drives a mercedes prove me wrong; and i know he'd always pick you up because he insists on doing it. just got off work? he's there. need a lift to class? you best believe he's driving you and picking you up after

• for safety reasons too, of course

• and its tinted like im talking completely blacked out so nobody can see him because he values his privacy or whatever

• despite what everyone thinks, he drinks his coffee with cream and sugar just not overly sweet. he dislikes black coffee because it's just too bitter and i think he wouldn't even bother drinking something that doesn't taste that good if u know what i mean?

• if you brought him coffee AND you remembered his order he would pretend to not care but deep down, his cold heart is melting lol

• he wears mont blanc cologne. no i will not elaborate any further — but he does. specifically mont blanc legend

• he gets flustered when you compliment him on how good he smells i can definitely see him having a hard time accepting compliments from you

• i also think when he compliments you, it's a little stiff or awkward at first because he doesn't really know how to show genuine love because he rarely ever feels this way

• if he was to move in with you, even if you were the girliest girl ever with all the shoes, clothes, and handbags you could dream of... his suit collection would still take up more closet space than your things to the point where you'd probably have to have two walk in closets or separate closets

• he will NOT compromise getting rid of any of his suits to make space for your things, BUT he will buy you another closet/get your place renovated and pay for it so you have more closet space

• he would want a girl who is smart — intellectual stimulation to jonathan is extremely important. you simply cannot be with him unless you're willing to talk about theories, psychology, anatomy, etc with him because who else is going to be able to share his thoughts with?

nsfw themes below

• i think he'd much rather give than receive because he strikes me as a little insecure — if he's eating you out you're focused on the way he's making you feel and he gets to focus on your body, rather than his own

• his stamina is fucking WILD because the self control this man has... like it's insane? could go round after round and will let you have your pleasure before his own, not a selfish lover despite what people think

• i think he's one of if not the most selfless lover in bed because i just know he'd fuck you so good, leave you a mess and make you come over and over again first before letting himself go

• i also think if you aren't into the whole "fear play" thing, he wouldn't force you. he would want you to be kinky and he'd totally experiment with you, but he'd never ever make you uncomfortable or push your limits if you didn't want to or agree to it

• he would 100% pay for your hair, nails, etc whatever is is you want because he thinks it's even sexier when you're all dressed up and done up for him before he ruins you

• especially the whole manicured nails thing...he'd pay for you to have them done because he likes to see them while your hands are wrapped around his cock and you're taking him in your mouth, looking up at him desperately

• buuuuut him actually letting you give him head is kind of...rare? because like i said, he's a lil insecure so he really has to trust you if he's going to let you in like that? and we're not going to talk about how long it takes for him to actually fuck you without any pieces of clothing on

• literally would rather you be naked and him fully dressed for obvious power dynamic reasons, but also because HE LITERALLY IS A NERD LOL he's not confident in his body

• even though you'd die for him and kiss the ground he walked on he's like :[

• lowkey...he's into body worshipping. everyone's like oh he's into bondage, punishment, fear play, all the extremes and stuff - ok sure. yes, but also BODY WORSHIPPING. i already know he falls more in love with you every time you do it to him

• but there's a fine line between body worshipping and letting you take the reins for real. he would rather die than be a sub :]

• lowkey after care is giving!!!

• towels, warm baths, glasses of wine and if you don't feel like drinking, maybe some hot tea and lots of gentle love after

• sigh, you love your little psycho nerdy doctor

• come at me for making him soft but i believe he's like this due to 1) his actual canon backstory and 2) nerds lowkey do it best sorry i don't make the rules

• ps, the glasses STAY on

🧸💌💉🌙

taglist:

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love

[happy74827]

Burning Bridges

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Upon an incident that was out of your control, Dexter comes to the realization that it wasn't just a coincidence.

WC: 1951

Category: Slight Angst, Hurt/Comfort

I forgot how much I missed this show (him), so I decided to write another. It's been so long since I last wrote for him that I actually see the difference in my writing. It's wack.

『••✎••』

Dexter was many things… a brother, a son, a pro bowler, a serial killer… but what he lacked was being a good friend.

He didn't understand friendship or its value. It was something that he simply couldn't grasp. Sure, he was able to fake it well enough in order to make sure that people liked him and didn't find him too creepy or strange, but there was never any real emotional connection. In his mind, everyone was either someone he needed or someone he didn't need, and he would treat them accordingly. The only exceptions to this rule were his sister, Debra, and you.

The two of you had met back in college, having been assigned to be each other's partners for a group project. It was a poetry class and a course that Dexter hadn't really wanted to take, but a general education requirement and the promise of an easy A convinced him to at least show-up and suffer through it. Well, for a guy who had to fake every single aspect of his personality in order to fit in with society, it turned out that poetry didn’t come quite as easily as he thought it would.

He had always found the art form to be rather silly, with all the emphasis on metaphors and flowery language. There was no purpose or goal other than to be creative and artsy, and it bored him to no end. The first time you had sat down with him to discuss the project, you could tell how much he didn't want to be there, and the look of complete disinterest on his face as he tried to figure out what your poem meant was the most hilarious thing that you had seen in a while. You couldn't help but laugh, the sound of which made him sit up and give you a quizzical look.

"What?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, confused.

"Nothing," you replied, still giggling. "It's just that I can tell that you don't like poetry."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you haven't said a word; you're just sitting there, staring off into space and twirling your pencil between your fingers," you told him, and he glanced down at the utensil as if he didn't realize that he was doing that.

"Oh. Sorry, I guess," he apologized, his tone making it clear that he was actually a little annoyed at having been called out on his inattentiveness.

"That's okay. I like poetry, so I'll be happy to do most of the work," you offered, smiling sweetly, and his eyebrows raised.

And that you did. In fact, you loved it so much that you majored in English and planned on getting your Masters, while Dexter got his degree in criminology. It was a nice trade-off because while he struggled in poetry, getting down into the debts of his feelings that were nonexistent, you struggled with chemistry, unable to wrap your head around the subject no matter how hard you tried.

So, the two of you had a mutually beneficial agreement. You did all the work for the poetry class, and in exchange, he tutored you in chemistry and made sure that you got a decent grade. Once the class was over and done with, the two of you stayed friends, though you had very little in common. Dexter had no interest in books, and you had no interest in criminology. He was a loner, and you had plenty of friends. You were a romantic, and he was completely unromantic. He didn't even have a girlfriend, and you had been in three different relationships over the course of the two years that you had known him.

Still, the two of you got along well enough. You were one of the only people that Dexter could actually stand for more than five minutes, and he was the same to you. So you went out to the bar sometimes, hung out with his sister, and did your best to keep him company while also doing your best to try to set him up on dates, hoping that one of these days, he'd actually find someone. It eventually did work out when you found him Rita, but as of right now, she had broken up with him, and he was back to being a lonely bachelor which it didn't bother him much until now.

You were in the hospital, your head wrapped and bandaged like a mummy. You were apparently attacked outside the grocery store, and if it wasn’t for the small instructions he had given you for self-defense, you most likely wouldn’t have survived.

At first, Dexter didn’t think of it as anything important in terms of his line of work. He believed it to be a coincidence, a random crime in the night. But it turned into something more the night he decided to visit with some cake.

“How’s the head?” He asked as he came inside, seeing you propped up reading. Of course, you were reading.

You shrugged. “Like I’m wearing a sweater hat, but it doesn't hurt, so there's that." You paused, setting down your book and glancing at him. "I’m still salty about my groceries. Almost two hundred dollars I spent on that stuff. Gone. Wasted. Poof."

Dexter had to chuckle a bit. "Hey, I can't do much about the food, but I brought you something," he said, revealing the white box.

"Is it chocolate? If it is, I love you," you joked.

"No, it's just vanilla. But, here."

He opened the lid and showed you, and you immediately lit up.

"Awww, Dexter! You are the best friend ever," you gushed, giving him a warm smile.

He smiled back. "It's the least I could do."

He was cutting it up for you when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t seem to notice, but out in the hall, a shadow passed by the window. His body went on alert, eyes flickering towards the door. He couldn’t see much, but he could make out an elderly man with gray hair and a beard.

Dexter's face remained unchanged, though his body language betrayed him as he sat the cake knife down. He knew that look. That look in a man's eyes when he was looking at prey. This was a predator.

"Hey, uh, what was that description again? Of the man who attacked you," Dexter asked, his tone a bit distracted.

"You mean Santa Claus on drugs? That pretty much sums it up. Why?" You looked up, confused.

"I don't know. It's probably nothing."

But it was something. The man had apparently come back to finish the job, and Dexter's jaw clenched at the thought. He was already planning his death in his mind. It wouldn’t be pretty. He gave you a piece of cake, swearing that he’d be back soon before going after the man. He stopped at the lobby momentarily, informing Angel to keep an eye on you, which, of course, the cop complied with.

Angel was a good cop. He was loyal, smart, and a damn good shot. But there was one thing that made him a great cop. He cared about his city and the people in it. He would protect the innocent no matter the cost, especially when it came down to those he was closest to. He was the kind of guy who would risk his life without a second thought if it meant saving others.

This is why Dexter liked Angel and why he was the only one that he trusted with this job.

Finding the man was extremely easy on his part. Dexter already knew what the guy’s plan was, so he stuck around outside the parking lot, watching the shadows. After a few minutes, the man appeared, heading towards the entrance once again.

He never got that far.

A hand was clamped over his mouth while the other dragged him away from the double doors and towards the side of the building. Dexter didn’t pull out his knife, though, only resorting to his arms as he applied pressure against his throat. The man fought, trying to break free, but he didn't get the chance. Dexter didn’t kill him, no, not yet, but his arm was still strong, and he had no plans to let go.

“Listen closely. If you so much as look the wrong way, I will rip your heart out and shove it down your throat. Understand? Nod if you do," he threatened, his voice calm and even. The man nodded, terrified, his eyes wide.

"Good," Dexter replied, “Why are you here?"

The man was quiet, but he was breathing heavily, and his eyes were watering.

"Talk. That girl, why are you after her?"

"I’m not—”

"You attacked her, and now you came back to finish the job, did you not? Who sent you?"

The man was sweating; his face was flushed and red. Dexter was pressing too hard, and his victim was starting to lose air. He didn’t care.

"Who?" He repeated.

The man choked, unable to speak.

"Last chance. Who sent you? And don't lie to me."

The man didn’t answer, and Dexter tightened his hold. That finally did it. The man began to squirm violently, trying to break free, but it was too late. His face started to turn purple, and Dexter had to adjust his grip and pull him closer.

“It wasn’t personal! I had to! I didn't have a choice! It was just a job!" He gasped out, struggling for air. “I got paid to do it. I was just doing what I was told! Please, please, don't kill me."

"Who was it?"

"I—I don’t know. It was some lady. I met her at a bar. She didn’t give her name, but he wasn’t American. She gave me ten thousand dollars and told me that the job was to attack this chick in the parking lot and make it look like an attempted robbery. Said it had to be done in a couple of days. Listen, man, I didn't want to do it. But the money—"

"What did she look like?" Dexter cut in.

"Dark hair. Young. I don't know! I don't know, I swear. She wore sunglasses the whole time. Please, don’t kill me. Please."

Suddenly, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The Dark Passenger was roaring, the realization washing over him like cold water.

Lila.

Everything made sense now. The way she had suddenly showed up out of nowhere, the incident outside the bowling alley, her sudden interest in you. It all made sense. She was behind it. She had done it.

Dexter wanted to snap the man's neck. He wanted to rip his throat out. He wanted to take his knife and stab him over and over again, to punish him for what he had done to you, but he refrained. He had the answers he needed, and the cameras around were still running.

He dropped him and watched him collapse, gasping for air. He didn't move, too scared and in shock to do so. Dexter didn’t say a word; his anger was silent, but it was boiling beneath his skin.

He was going to kill her. He was going to hunt her down and end her, and there was no place on Earth where she could hide.

“You ever, and I mean ever, come near her again; I will tear out your spine and make you choke on it. Understand?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."

Dexter didn’t say anything else; he simply walked off, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He had a lot to think about.

[peppertaemint]

Jikook & "Are You Sure?!" : The Beauty of Mundane

The much-maligned reality-TV format deserves most of the criticism and ire it provokes. Schlocky production values and pre-tense often lead to melodramatic fakery that people want to believe because they're bored. We've all succumbed to it; I've seen more than my fair share of Big Brother seasons. But the thing that reality can do, if it doesn't try too hard, is give us a window to life that sits between documentary and that unscripted faux-world, and I think Are You Sure?! makes a wonderful example.

The situations are both planned and imposed on this show, from Connecticut to Jeju to Sappparo. Jungkook and Jimin planned the trip along with producers and agreed to film it as content, a loathsome word if there ever was one. What we see is not genuine real-life, despite what Jimin states in Sapporo; it's a mediated view into the pair's life on camera together -- a life they seem to want to share together and with fans.

What makes AYS work so well is their naturalness on camera and together. I'm struck by how comfortable both facets of their lives seem after just over ten years of vlogging together under agency Big Hit.

We see how much they enjoy existing together, grappling with the highs and lows of the mundanity of travel. I say mundanity specifically because so much of travel is just that -- your life simply transported to a pretty view. It's still full of stomach aches and flus, good and bad food and wide-ranging moods. Seeing Jungkook patiently take care of Jimin, ensuring he took his medicine, and then creating a doltap, the traditional practice of rock stacking to ward off bad luck and bring in good energy, was a healthy glimpse into the everyday of their shared life.

The most telling part of the show is, rather ironically, the worst part -- the three-episode interlude with their unexpected guest in Jeju, Taehyung. Our duo made no bones about the fact that the guest invited himself to their trip -- their special time -- and took every possible opportunity to remind him of his status as unwanted guest.

The entire vibe of the show changed because of Taehyung's presence, and not just because JiKook were put out by the whole thing. His presence changed their dynamic toward one another as well, seemingly disrupting their status as a duo. It was as though there was a need to cater to the guest, to an extent, and to put aside their interest in one another to a marked degree. That in itself is incredibly telling for their relationship.

Luckily, the show bookended itself with JiKook solo trips, and it ended in Sapporo where the duo seemed to be most comfortable and in their element, embracing the romance and magic of the snow resort in Japan. This was a welcome contrast to the funny, fish-out-of-water vibe of NY and Connecticut.

What will stay with me is the joy in the mundanity that the two showed throughout the show, but especially when left alone. The fun of grocery shopping when you're with your person. The enjoyment of playing cards, cooking, or simply going to bed when you're with your person. It's easy to forget there is a team of people watching over them for the majority of the show, filming or simply observing. And I wonder if sometimes Jungkook and Jimin forget, too.

[azaharinflames]

Sorry I need to rant for a tiny, little bit, because...

You know what I find particularly funny?

Their version of Buddie simply does not exist.

And I am not talking about how it is not canon, that is a given. But their version of it. The things they've claimed they do, or feel about each other, or think of each other.

(Disclaimer: I have my own opinion of their friendship and I do believe there are way better friendships within the show, including for Buck. But I do acknowledge they do love each other as friends and deeply care about one another. And that Chris is important for Buck. That is not up to discussion here. Okay, we can go on)

They have this whole "Buckley-Diaz is a family" that consists of Buck spending 99% of his free time at the Diaz house, of them having weekly movie nights, and of Buck taking Chris to school almost as much as Eddie does. And this is simply not true.

We do see Buck spending time at the Diaz house, of course. When he's hanging out with the Diazes (something that, might I point out, has not really happened since Season 4, as the few scenes we got of them hanging out since have been at Buck's loft - correct me if I'm wrong), helping Eddie out, in a group setting, and hiding from his sister and her helicopter babysitting. Movie nights- when is it even mentioned this is something they do weekly? Not once. And please correct me if I am wrong. Buck does not take Chris to school almost daily, not because he did after Eddie's breakdown does it mean this is a normal and usual occurrence. It doesn't mean it isn't, to be fair, but nothing in canon tells us otherwise. I will give them the zoo, however, because in canon we do have Eddie saying Buck takes Chris there all of the time.

What we got, however, was scenes showing how Buck has his own independent life. He has lots of scenes in his loft, as much as Buddies hate it, as we have never gotten an off-handed comment on how little he's spending there because he's at the Diazes all the time. We've gotten scenes of Buck reaching out to people who are not Eddie for help. And oh, of course - we have gotten scenes of his family (whether you like the Buckleys or not) having a family dinner. And guess who was not invited? Oh, right.

(We have, also, gotten enough scenes with Tommy that we know post-going official, they spend most of their free time with each other. Thank you to Bobby for also confirming this. We love you, king)

With the Diazes, we got scenes that showed how Eddie and Chris exist on their own, without needing Buck there to complete their family. We got a whole ep where Eddie was dealing with Chris's new crush, and instead of making that be a Buckley-Diaz 'family' storyline, Carla was the one accompanying Eddie and being the other adult in the situation. We can say whatever we want about the dating debacle at the end of Season 6 (I also think it was a mess, but for the way they rushed it), but Eddie did not say: oh, Chris and I are fine, we have Buck. And he did not say it because it simply would not have made sense.

And oh, I could go on and on on how the Eddie they have in Fanon is also not the one we have, but this is way too long already. Do let me know if anyone wants to hear it though. Although I will probably write it down whenever I am bored enough.

Short story very long: Buck and Eddie are good friends. They respect each other and clearly enjoy each other's company. And the show has definitely played with the concept of family for them (looking directly at the elf from season 2 here), but never too serious. Never in canon. Outside of the 118 being a family (which I am not denying), at least for me, it has always been obvious how Eddie and Chris were very valued by Buck, but his close-knit family (nuclear family, if you will) is and has always been Maddie (now extended to Jee-Yun and Chim as well), and Bobby (something he's admitted in canon, before someone comes at me for this).

Now, thankfully, we have Tommy to join in in there as well ☺️

[benedictscanvas]

could you possibly do a benedict bridgerton friends to lovers fic with maybe some jealousy thrown in there? i adore your writing 🫶🏻

this request could not have come at a better time! i finally started my bridgerton rewatch recently and i can feel myself sparking with ideas yet again :) || 2k words, tw benedict is PINING & this is much more suggestive than my usual content, so 18+ please!

can't bear it - benedict bridgerton x reader

He looked bored. It was the first thing you noticed upon entering the ballroom and, in truth, it was often the first thing you noticed upon entering any ballroom. Over your years of friendship, it seemed you had a highly trained eye to seek him out amongst any crowd.

Just as your eyes strayed to him, as if he had similar training, his found you. What had been a dull stare at the ground to avoid any accidental eye contact with the Mamas scattered about the room quickly became a bright and excitable gaze locked to yours and you returned his slow-spreading smile with a rather unladylike grin.

"Hi," he mouthed, a grin of his own now twisting his features. You shook your head at him fondly, biting the inside of your cheek in a foolish attempt to stop your grin from growing any wider.

You were lucky to have a sister with whom your mother was preoccupied. It made it easy to hurry along the sides of the ballroom, exchanging nods with those you passed without stopping to greet them properly, to end up next to Benedict in record time.

You stood side by side, your usual routine, the backs of your hands inches apart but both facing outwards, as if surveying the rest of the room. Each one of your senses was entirely tuned into him as soon as you entered his presence, but it would not look as such to any onlookers.

"You'll start more rumours if you keep trying to communicate across such wide distances, Lord Bridgerton," you began, eyes fixed on the twirling couples so you didn't sneak a glance in his direction, "I thought we were attempting to rid ourselves of the clamours for our engagement."

"They can hardly read into a mere greeting," he responded easily, the words a mere murmur from the corner of his mouth, "I am a gentleman, as you know, and it would be impolite to simply ignore you."

"It would. You couldn't ignore me if you tried, anyway," you mused, "You'd get ever so bored."

"Always so self-important."

His mutter makes you bite back a smirk. Perhaps facing away from each other did nothing to hide your obvious conversation after all. Violet would be sure to notice, you knew, and may once again force Benedict into explaining the lack of proposal between the two of you.

In recent weeks, however, you had been struggling to explain it to yourself. Benedict was so dear to you, so utterly different to the men that regularly bored you, that once you had struck up such unlikely friendship, it seemed you valued it far too much to take it any further.

That, and there had never been any indication that Benedict himself saw marital potential within you. He was by no means a shy man. If he wanted you, you were quite sure he would have swept you off your feet by now.

And what a sweeping it would be, in those strong arms barely concealed by the crisp white shirt, billowing fabric...

"Good evening, Miss Y/L/N," a voice broke you from your spell, and your gaze accidentally drifted to Benedict in surprise before landing on the man interrupting you, "I believe I was promised a dance last we met, and I have heard you are a lady of your word."

You had to fight to keep yourself from frowning as you wracked your brains for his name. Unfortunately, you came up entirely empty and had no choice but to respond vaguely.

"I certainly would not like to gain a reputation for breaking promises," you smiled as taught, taking in handsome features and arms that didn't fill in a shirt nearly as well as Benedict's. You shook that thought from your head as you placed your hand in the unnamed stranger's own, "It would be an honour."

There was a splutter to your left, no doubt Benedict struggling to conceal his amusement at the sudden change in your tone. You allowed the man to lead you to the dance floor, turning subtly to send Benedict a wry smile but finding him staring right through you, expression anything but amused.

It wiped the smile clean off your own face.

His face was thunder throughout your dance, you noticed, however much you tried to focus on the pleasantly mundane conversation provided by your new partner. He really was quite good looking, if only you could appreciate it, but you were entirely preoccupied by Benedict's new foul mood and what could have caused it.

As the dance ended, you bowed politely to your captor, which was the only word that came to mind for him, and hurried in the direction of your favourite friend only to find him gone. This time you did frown, despite your mother's warnings of wrinkles, and picked up your skirt lightly as you slipped out of the ballroom.

Searching side room after side room proved useful. You soon found what could be described as a studio, with large windows to let the light in but currently only cast moonlight across the canvases spread around the room. The moon also lit up half of Benedict, who was stood at the window, staring out into the gardens.

"Be prepared to hide under that desk if anyone should come knocking," you said, startling him as you clicked the door shut behind you, "I shan't let you compromise my honour just because I have to chase after you when you're having a tantrum."

He glowered at you at the mention of a tantrum, the kind of look he usually levelled his brothers with rather than you. It was new territory and you found yourself quickly floundering.

"I did not bid you to follow me."

"And yet here I am," you reminded, taking a tentative step, "So why don't you put a stop to this strange mood and tell me what's wrong?"

"I'd rather not," he said curtly, his voice a little wrong as he turned to face you at last. Were those tears? "Please return to the festivities and I will join you momentarily."

You'd never seen Benedict cry before. In fact, you weren't sure you'd ever seen a man cry in your life, and the sight was terrifying. You wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a long overdue embrace, but you kept yourself stock still in the middle of the room.

"Benedict..." you began, not sure where you were going despite the plea in your voice, "Please. I have never seen you like this."

He laughs, but its harsh.

"You must not be very observant then, Y/N."

"I beg your pardon?"

"In fact, you must be positively blind. Maddeningly so. How do you ever get anything done?"

You could feel tears of your own welling up in your eyes and blinked them away furiously. It was a great effort to keep your voice level when you spoke.

"I have known you to be many things, Bridgerton, but you are not cruel. I am sure I have done nothing to deserve such vehement insult, so-"

"I quite disagree," he interrupted, face fierce as he stalked over to you until he was right in front of you. Your chest heaved as you looked up at him, eyes wide, and felt the rise of his chest almost against your own, "You are observant, Y/N, and far from blind. It is your cruelty at fault here, not mine. It is yours."

He hissed the last word, pointing a finger at you so close to your chest that your head was spinning. His closeness was intoxicating, his scent crowding you out of enough oxygen and his words were making you lightheaded with panic.

"You're not making any sense," you murmured. His fingertips ghosted across the fabric of your dress near your hips, barely there, and nowhere near the skin underneath.

"You must see it," he mutters back, all gritted teeth and barely concealed restraint, "You must see that I worship you. That I always have."

Your inhale sounded more like a gasp. He shook his head above you, moving closer until his chin was pressed hard into your temple and you keened into the touch.

"I know you do not feel the same. And you are not obligated to, I swear it. But taunting me as you do. Playing with me only to dance with another..." he trails off, breath shuddering, and you can hear those tears in his voice again, "I can't bear it. Please, Y/N, I cannot bear it."

Neither can you.

You reach up and take his face in both hands, finding chiseled cheekbones and jawline, thumbs either side of his lips as you pull him until you can look up into his face again. Your gaze flickers across his face, and you wipe the tears from his face with shaking fingers.

"You're blind, Benedict," you say, leaning up on your tiptoes until your lips brush his, soft, like the ghost of his fingertips against fabric. You know what you want him to do and you need him to do it first, need him to take your lead and run away with it.

When he fists his hands in your dress at your hips and drags you into him, your prayers are answered.

He opens your mouth to his, still gentle but insistent, demanding more, more, more of you. You'd give him everything, right here, mainly because you know he'd never take it. He seems more than content with the here and now as it is, especially when your hands slip into his hair and he lets out a low grumble of a moan that you feel everywhere.

He's trying to pull you closer still when you break for air, gasping it in as the two of you pant into each other's mouths. He runs a hand down your hair, your neck, your arm, until he intertwines his fingers with yours, chases your lips for a peck, then another, then another. You meet him with a lazy grin.

"I dance with the Lords of the ton every ball," you breathe out, "I'd have noticed if you reacted like this every time."

Benedict was grinning too. He looked far more like himself when he did.

"They are usually old, ugly fools," he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the thought, "I always hate them having their hands all over you, but watching a young charming bastard who may just have a chance with you hold you as I have always dreamed of doing? It was enough."

"He never had a chance, my Lord," you assured, tracing his hairline, his earlobe just to see him shiver, "You are, as already accused, blissfully blind. Blind as a bat, I should think."

"Recent developments would suggest that to be true," he mused, glowing in a way he wouldn't usually when wrong. Then, all too quickly, his face briefly fell, "I truly apologise for all that I said to you, Y/N. There is no excuse, it was cruel."

"Hm," you agreed, "It was. Although, I can think of a multitude of ways you can make it up to me. Would you care to hear them?"

His eyes lit up at the realisation of your teasing. It was familiar, exactly what had drawn you both to each other time and time again. It was likely what would keep you together for eternity.

"I would like nothing more."

"How about I sit right up here..." you began lowly, moving to take a seat on the desk, "-you sit yourself underneath this desk, and we can have a conversation about compromising my honour."

You grinned at him wolfishly. It looked almost as if his eyes rolled back into his head already, but it wasn't long until he was kneeling in front of you, hands on the hem of your dress.

"And what would you know about compromising your honour, Miss Y/L/N?"

You ran a hand through his hair and used it to roughly yank him forward, until his nose was pressed to the fabric of your dress, exactly where you wanted him. It was easy to see it now, as he stared up at you in total awe: the way he worshipped you.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

if you’d like to request something, please do so here! i’d love to hear from you, sunflower <3

[maxislvt]

Sink Your Teeth In

pairing(s): vampire!natasha romanoff x werewolf!reader

summary: Vampires and werewolves were known enemies, but Natasha is more than willing to change that. Even if it's just for one night.

warning: amab!reader, blowjobs, sub!reader, slight dubcon

a/n: ummm nat gives the best head case closed

Event Masterlist

Werewolves and vampires were always at odds with each other. Not a thousand years could go by without vampires attacking werewolves or werewolves attacking vampires. It was all the same bloodline ending bullshit. 'Your father killed mine and now I must kill you!' over and over again. Some of those fathers weren't even worth killing anyone over. It was truly a shame that no one could see how compatible the two factions were. Vampires were strict, organized people that valued loyalty above all else. Werewolves were nothing short of loyal and obedient, you just had to train them. Natasha was so close to finding the perfect werewolf for her to prove that. 

Natasha had tried many times to tame a werewolf, but she'd run into a number of problems. They could be taught, but not many of them were willing to learn— especially not from a vampire. As disappointing as it was, it wasn't exactly a shock. A millennium long feuds were rarely ever one sided. Her previous attempts were also foiled by pride, shame, and simply being too boring to have any real fun.

So, Natasha spent another Friday night on the prowl.

Club Sonar was a rather interesting place. A tall building in the middle of nowhere buzzing with all forms of life. Monsters from all over the globe came together under the moon just to party. It was a messy place. The music was loud, bodies grinded against each other without a care, and secrets of all kinds were shared over the strongest alcohol. Though cultures mixed, money did not. 

Each floor of the bar was more expensive than the last. The alcohol got smoother, the music got slower, and the floors actually got cleaned. Upper floors were for people who supported the cause but had no interest in getting dirty. Natasha had more than enough money to sit at the top floor, but that wasn't any fun. She'd never find what she was looking for if she stayed up there. 

Werewolves were just as wealthy as vampires, but they were rowdy. They liked to play rough and get dirty. Big fancy houses just didn't appeal to them as much. Fancy clubs appealed to them even less. Natasha wasn't looking to tame someone — not to say her hand couldn't be forced — she was looking for someone soft and easy to mold. 

You weren't the easiest to find. Despite your size, the people on the dancefloor had no trouble pushing you around. You kept your head down no matter where you went. Natasha could tell you weren't there on your own, which made it harder to take you home. Not too hard though.

"This really isn't your scene," she said when she took the bar stool next to you. It was hard to keep her eyes in the right place. Your shyness was adorable, but there was no denying what she was really feeling. 

You looked around to make sure she was actually talking to you.  Though you weren't opposed to the conversation, it was hard to believe such a pretty woman had approached you. "Um, no. My friends wanted to come here. I mean it's cool just…couldn't we have a library or something? There's no point in intermingling if you're too drunk to remember what you're kissing."

Natasha laughed and scooted closer to you. "I guess you're right, but there's no shame in being curious. Right?" She looked at the glass in front of you. "Oh, that just won't do." Before you could interject, she tapped the countertop twice and brought over the bartender. It was a quick exchange, you didn't even see Natasha pull out any cash. Despite your confusion, you didn't put up a fight. You were exactly what Natasha was looking for. 

Guilt filled your eyes when you looked down at the fresh cocktail in front of you. Was it more rude to let it go to waste or ask the bartender for a refund? "Oh, you really didn't have to do that." Your hands hesitantly wrapped around the glass before taking a sip of the alcohol. The burn hit you immediately, but you tried to play it off. You tensed up to hold in the coughing fit building up in your chest. "It's…great, thanks," you forced out through a tight chest. 

Natasha gave you a firm pat on the back to force you to cough. She took away the glass and slid this towards you. "I would expect a werewolf to have a stronger alcohol tolerance," she said teasingly. Her hand stayed on your back even after your coughing had subsided. 

You shook your head. "A lot of us have sensitive pallets. I can taste whatever crappy oak barrel they made this in." There was an unexpected comfort in the way she touched you. "I should have asked this earlier, but what's your name?" You sat up straight as her hand moved down your back. You never really paid attention to your posture, but you had the strange urge to be better around her. 

"My name's Natasha, but you can call me Nat if you want. What's yours?"

"My name is Y/N. I don't really have a nickname, but whatever you come up with is fine." 

The conversation continued without trouble. Natasha seemed so enamored with how strong your pallet was. At the expense of Natasha's wallet and your sobriety, you had tasted just about every drink the bar had to offer. Eventually, you settled on just drinking strawberry daiquiris while you two talked. 

Natasha pulled your seat closer to her and she leaned down to whisper in your ear. "So how many more of those little smoothies do I have to buy to take you home with me?" Her hand slid up your thigh and gave it a firm squeeze. She could feel your dick twitching already. "I promise I'll only bite where it feels good."

You practically jumped out of your skin when Natasha kissed your neck. It was quick, but you could feel the pointed tips of her fangs brush against your skin. "Um..Can I finish this one first?" Before Natasha could say anything else you pulled out your phone and texted your friends. 'Leaving with a hot lady, ttyl!' was all you sent before cutting off your phone and downing the last of your drink. 

Natasha adored your enthusiasm. "I promise I'll get you home safe in the morning." She kissed your neck one last time before dragging you outside to her car. It was a good thing she brought her chauffeur along because there was no way she'd be able to keep her hands off you the entire ride home. 

You stumbled behind Natasha as best you could. Vampires were usually weaker than werewolves, but you were a little too tipsy to show your strength. You let Wanda push you into the backseat of her car. One sniff of the air and you could tell someone else was in the car. "You have a chauffeur?" Natasha covered your mouth and pushed you further into the backseat. 

"Home," was all she told the driver before closing the partition and focusing her attention on you. "Yes, but I promise the back of the car is soundproof." It certainly wasn't, but she needed to hear how whiny you could get. Natasha practically pounced on you after she closed the door. The kiss was hot and passionate. Your fangs bumped against hers every time your lips collided. "Can you taste what I drank earlier?" She asked with a giggle. 

A whine escaped your lips when Natasha pulled away. "Um…a lot of vodka and cooper..?" Your answer earned you another kiss. Natasha's lips felt like heaven against yours. She overwhelmed all your senses in the most delicious way possible. You didn't even notice how hard you'd gotten. "You smell…really good." You mumbled in the handful of seconds between kisses. 

She chuckled but didn't respond. You were too cute. "I'm going to make you feel so good tonight." Natasha's kisses moved down the side of your jaw until she reached the base of your neck. Her hands wasted no time undoing your belt and tossing it on the car's floor. One of her fingers circled around the tip of the tent in your pants while she watched you squirm. "You're so sensitive."

You opened your mouth to speak only to be interrupted by a string of cursing and desperate whimpering. "Sorry, I'm just new to all of this," you confessed. It was a little hard to imagine your first time going to a bar would take such a turn. 

"Don't tell me someone as cute as you is still a virgin." Your silence was enough. It was as arousing as it was disappointing. Natasha didn't want to go slow by any means, but the thought of getting to corrupt that innocent little mind of yours was exhilarating. "I promise I'll be extra gentle with your little friend." 

The car parked before Natasha could pull down your boxers. Natasha's lust-driven craze left you in quite an awkward position while waiting for her to unlock the door. Holding your pants up only made your bulge stand out more and there was an obscene amount of lipstick covering your neck. You hoped Natasha wasn't secretly vampire famous or else you'd be in real trouble. 

Natasha pulled you into her home and wasted no time undressing you. Your shoes, shorts, sweater, and T-shirt littered the soft carpet. Natasha had you completely naked by the time she pushed you onto the bed. "You're making a mess already," she whispered seductively as she crawled onto the bed. Her eyes focused on the way your member throbbed and leaked precum. 

Your eyes followed Natasha's as she began stroking your member. It was tortuously slow, but it felt good. A near-pornographic moan fell from your lips as your head tilted back. "Your hands are so soft," you whimpered pathetically. All your willpower went into staying still. You didn't know what to do with yourself. "C-can I touch you too?" You blindly reached out and grabbed the first thing you could feel. Mindlessly, you groped the soft flesh in hopes that it would make Natasha feel good too. Your face burned bright red as she moved your hand to where her breast actually was. “Sorry…I wasn’t looking,” you mumbled. 

Natasha kissed up the underside of your cock before licking all the way down to the base. “A good pup would pay attention to someone making them feel this good.” She waited until you looked down at her. Once she was sure you wouldn’t look away, she swallowed you down to the base. Her cheeks hallowed out as she began sucking you off.

Your hips twitched and your eyelids fluttered, but you tried your best to keep your eyes open. As your orgasm got closer, you found it harder to control yourself. An animalistic growl ripped through your throat as you tried to control yourself. Your fangs forced themselves out of your mouth and your claws had nearly ripped Natasha’s sheets. “W-wait, slow down,” were the only words you could get out before it happened. 

Hot white cum painted the inside of Natasha’s throat as she swallowed down everything you gave her. Natasha didn’t give you a break and continued until you pushed her away. “Is that all you have left?” She blew on your bulbous tip before giving it a kiss.

“N-no, I just…I need a second. That’s all.”

[verinarin]

𝐂𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 - 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟𝐬

angst with comfort | he didn’t come today, you don’t miss him do ?

an. Miss me ?, I hope you do miss me since this is my first full fledged angst I write for Ratio, I hope you guys enjoy ! ヽ(；▽；)

art by @/hsgbisuw on twt

It was a calm day, too calm for your liking. Usually at this precise second Veritas Ratio would knock on your doors with all of his might and glory, how could he not ?. You were doomed to be woven into his research by the looms of fate, yet he’s not here.

He was never late before, likewise he was also never early. Right at 12 o’clock he would knock on your door, yet he isn’t, not today. Why ? you asked yourself. It is unnatural for you to let that man live in your head rent free, yet he broke something constant between you both. zAs much as you hate how better his thesis compares to yours, his gentle scoffs as he oversees your draft, you can’t help but to respect the candid fellow or at least respect his dreams and values.

Missing him however was not on your list, you don’t hold any fondness towards him, just respect. Only respect, or at least that’s what you like to convince yourself of. Yet your actions spoke differently, from staring at your phone, waiting for an explanation for his absence, staring at the clock. Patiently counting how long it has been since his supposed arrival, yet he never came.

The clock strikes at 8 in the evening, it is sufficient to say that he’s not coming, you wanted to text him for a reschedule or to simply ask his whereabouts but you didn’t. Since there’s no need to do so, he has shown his resolve by his actions. Perhaps you bore him so he decided to substitute you for another brilliant mind, no harm no foul, you thought.

As you stood up from your desk to pack your belongings, a twist on your door knob could be heard, that means that the person behind the door must've had important matters to attend to you since they skipped the courtesy to knock on your door, at this hour nonetheless.

Once you turned your gaze towards the door, low and behold Veritas Ratio with all of his flaws full on displayed for you, his usually groomed hair, now damp as well as the rest of his clothes, he looks like a wet dog you thought, “I’m quite late aren’t I ?,” he chuckled as he brushed through his wet hair.

“What brings you here ?, it is well past our usual schedule,” you walked towards him with a concerned look on your face, he let out a small chuckle as he made himself comfortable on your couch.

“Well excuse my late arrival, I had matters to attend to,” he replied vaguely, not wanting to disclose whatever it was he was attending.

“It is best for you to not come at all, it’s already late for us to start our thesis,” you sat beside him as you examined his whole stature, his breathing patterns are erratic, it contradicts his usual calm pattern.

“I’m not here to talk about our little project I’m afraid,” oh that’s new !, you felt a sudden rush through your body, in a way your flight or fight sense has been activated.

“Oh ?, so why the sudden visit ?,” you asked, gazing straight at his face, his sharp features glistening beautifully underneath the moonlight, the sight would leave anyone who gazed upon in breathless, yourself included but he didn’t need to know that of course.

“Do you not miss me ?, or search for me at all ?, are you not concerned with my wellbeing ?,” he asked calmly as he looked towards you, like a deer caught in headlights you freeze.

That was not a reply you were hoping, it was a trap.

Now your mind starts to isolate itself into a total state of seclusion, ignoring the man beside you, riddled with his own inquisitive mind pondering the answers to his question.

Did you miss his companion ? perhaps.

Did you search for him ?,you did ask Aventurine about his whereabouts, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Are you concerned with his well being ?, you might have. Proven by the fact that you had to physically restrain yourself from searching for him.

“No, I do not care about you that much I’m afraid, we’re just colleagues after all,” you lied, for reasons you can’t disclose. He simply scoffs as he folds his arms together; a self pitying laughter could be heard seconds afterward.

“I see, then can you perhaps prove your claims,” he smiles.

His expression, so sincere and true that it scares you to a certain degree. You’re horrified how easily he steps inside your heart. With just a mere smile he could do that, how gruesome.

“Sure, let’s get this over with,” you replied and with that he leaned closer towards your ear, you could hear your own heartbeat, matching his erratic pace. Scary you thought as you sealed your lips shut.

“Are you perhaps familiar with the term Cognitive Dissonance,” his voice lures you, dangerously so to the truth. The truth you weren’t prepared to disclose nor acknowledge.

“Yes, but I don’t see how it connects to whatever it is you want me to prove,” you reply, trying to move on from his argument. As though lost in the middle of the sea, he’s getting close to the shore and you’re not sure if you want him to step on land or to drown.

“You see,” he whispered as his hand tipped your chin forward to meet his eyes, “Your actions contradicts your beliefs, it’s uncomfortable is it, am I getting too close ?, physically or perhaps psychologically ?,” he did it, he really did step foot on uncharted territories.

“Too close, there’s a thin line between us that you’re stepping on Veritas,” you whispered back hoping he would give up on whatever conquest he’s currently embark upon. Yet he dares step closer, leans as close as he could get without scaring you away.

“Is that so ?, would you let me walk to the other side ?,” he asked, his voice as gentle as it could be, in contrast to how stern it used to linger on your ears.

“I-i—” not a single thought could form in your mind, the things he implied. You’re scared to misinterpret the situation, making yourself a fool in front of him.

“Don’t think, feel. Would you let me cross to the other side ?,” he whispers in which it successfully breaks you from your trance.

He reached at your hand, guiding it against his own beating heart as his forehead rested on yours. You could feel his palpitation, his warmth, his sincerity.

You could feel him, not perceive him anymore.

You feel him with all of his sincerity and tenderness.

“Do you miss me ?,” he asked again, patiently waiting for your answer while his lips graze slightly onto yours.

“Yes, I do miss you, Veritas, ”

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

What’s your favorite part about working on the comic? Specifically the comic; like drawing it, coloring, writing scripts, etc

Oh, that's an interesting question! Let's rate them!

Sketching/Drawing: (9/10) Creating at its finest. For me, this is the distilled elixir of creation. The heart of being a comic artist. I love organizing panels on a page, it's like playing tetris. I love drawing! Points off for requiring so much time. Why can't I just bang my head against a tablet and dump out all the pictures onto the screen at once?

Scripting: (6/10) Pretty standard work. I enjoy it well enough, but it gets points taken off for requiring so much re-writing and emotional turmoil. Sometimes, I will rework a line 3-4 times and think it works great, but inevitably something will come along to make me think it would have been better to have the character say that OTHER thing instead.

Lineart: (11/10) Excellent. Stupendous. This is drawing, if drawing required no braincells. It's meditation! I'm listening to a 2 hour long video essay about evolution or manta rays or ancient trees. I'm happy, I'm in my lane, I'm flourishing. (This would have been 12/10 except for those times when you're drawing the same line 17 times and are stuck in a ctrl+z loop.)

Coloring: (-2/10) Don't like it. Cannot recommend it. People tell me they like this part? I'm skeptical. It's tedious. It's boring. It's like one of those baby games where you put cubes into a square hole, etc, but sometimes the cubes the misshapen and don't go in smoothly. At best it's just 10 minutes of clicking with a bucket tool. At worst, it's coloring within the lines, which I have been OVER since I was 4.

Rendering values, special effects: (5/10) This is fine. It's simply fine. I can enjoy it. It's interesting, but a bit repetitive, but it takes less effort than coloring, with more variety, so I respect it.

Posting: (4/10) This is a trap. There IS a typo, and you WILL see it as soon as you click Post. Or as soon as the post hits 100 notes. Whichever one is more painful. But on the other hand... commints! But on the other-other hand... people misunderstanding your characters' intentions and being a whole clown in the comments about it! It's a mixed bag.

[n3ptoonz]

Hello! Can you write Baraka, Syzoth, Kenshi and Liu Kang reacting to an s/o who likes to trace their tattoos. (Also tattoos are hot)

hiya and i certainly can anon! (i fully agree. whenever i see THAT raiden skin i literally want to jump through a closed window)

mk1 hcs: how baraka, syzoth, kenshi, and liu kang react to their s/o tracing their tattoos

warnings: none; fluff

Baraka

Would be confused at first. He had lost most of his sense of humanity since his affliction, so he'd think you just got bored or wanted his attention

When you explained how his tats were interesting and wanted to know the reasons/origins of them, he was genuinely surprised. Nobody has ever asked him such a thing, let alone pay that much attention to him or his tattoos

Now he doesn't mind it and lets you do as you please. He purposely wears sleeveless shirts around you all the time just so you'll get the idea to trace his tats later

Syzoth

Since the first noticeable tattoo is on his face, he'd get startled the first time you did it. You were waiting for him to wake up one day and became interested in them suddenly

He'd ask what's so cool about tattoos in the first place since he's not originally human. It's not that he doesn't value them, but to him they are more important in the sense of they reminded him of his family (i made that shit up don't quote me), not necessarily "cool" and you had to explain you took interest in all the above

Now he fully welcomes it and would probably go as far as being around you more often to get you to notice and engage in some form of physical touch that ends up in tracing his tattoos

Kenshi Takahashi

I feel like sometimes he didn't like his own tats. Being a former Yakuza and all, he wouldn't get why you think they're cool. You tell him despite their origin they objectively look really cool and make him look even cooler/finer and now he's a happy camper

Whatever his thoughts were slowly vanished out of his own mind. Though he can't really see them anymore, he likes that someone he's in love with is for one not scared away by his past but also thinks they make him look cooler? After a while he'd start appreciating them himself

Also the type of man to walk around the house either shirtless or a tank top more often because "he gets hot easily" righttt righttttt. He loves the sensation of your touch on his body too. I'll never stop advocating for him appreciating other senses more post losing his sight!!!

Liu Kang

He has a lot of tats so like, he's going to think you're asking for a lil alone time wink which he doesn't oppose to but sometimes you simply just find interest in appreciating his ink

He will not shy away from telling you the origins and history behind each and every one. He'd even show you the ones he got for fun. He may be a god, but he was human first who lowkey liked to have as much fun as his comrade, Kung Lao, he was just better at hiding it

He now offers you to do it while you're cuddling or just chilling around each other; in reality he looks forward to it since he's never heard of such a fascinating with something like tattoos and it brought you two closer

a/n: i hope this was good enough! i've been writing so much lately just in general my brain is kinda mush ngl but i ain't no bitch! plus i gotta think more for smut so i went for fluff lol