#but it's also not something I want to subject other people to anymore

[therookerydatv]

This is a non-Veilguard post but it is a Solas post and a Varric post so buckle in.

Background: I joined a Veilguard Discord server because I'm insane, and we were discussing Cole and the whole choice to make him a Spirit or more Human, and it almost got into an argument but thankfully it figured quickly, but I was still thinking about it because something about it all rubbed me the wrong way. A lot of people lamented their choice in making Cole more Human or cheered that making Cole more Spirit was the correct choice because of Solas' own regrets and pains that came about from him gaining a mortal body.

Subjectively I have always chosen to make him more human, but I guess me choosing as a player is different from within the context of Inquisition. In DA:I every choice you make has consequences, sometimes trying to backpedal out of a choice once you're far enough in will result in you not getting your way because that's what it all is, Choices and Consequences. As much as the result of Cole's change is on you the player, it's really a Consequence of your favoring Varric or Solas' method.

Solas' entire view of Cole's predicament is colored by his own negative experience of having a body and living in the physical world, waking up to a physical world where the Veil was created just amplifies that regret in pain, every instance of him trying to help with his Wisdom becomes something worse to him personally (All that Wisdom and he can't help himself) but with Cole he actually can help! He can fix this, with not only Wisdom but experience! He's become a person, he doesn't like being a person(and then he does because of the Inquisitor, I feel this is true romance or friendship), so Solas knows that Cole can 'return'(made) more Spirit and the confliction will end.

Varrics positions, his view, I feel is colored by the people he couldn't help, the ones he couldn't help get their revenge or solve their problem in time in a way where no one could get hurt (Cole literally reminds him of Anders just in reverse) And this time, Varric knows better, he knows how to fix this, he knows how to not blow up the Chantry, he can fix it this time. (This time the love will be enough!!)

Objectively, both are answers, I don't think either of them are right, because it's one influence over the other, but a choice has to be made otherwise he'd become a demon.

Solas and Varric are having their idealogical battle(custody battle) over which direction Cole needs to go in to avoid binding or demonhood(which college to send him to). The added layer VG adds to this and every banter Solas and Varric have is also fascinating, because outwardly it's an Elf and a funny Dwarf fighting over the tall awkward Human child, but after VG??? After those regrets??? Girl...

But I feel that reducing that scene to Solavellan at times is... disingenuous, when really, it's a Solvarric scene of we're being objective.

This is THE custody battle of all time. (My weed kicked in bear with me)

Solas' version of his world doesn't exist anymore, the world with no Veil and spirits essentially pillaging the bodies of the Titans to gain bodies doesn't exist anymore, the first victims of what the Elvhen did calls him Chuckles, a demonym in true friendly jest to him, it's the first thing Varric calls him when he reaches out to talk to him at the beginning of Veilguard, up until that point he calls him Solas, the Dread Wolf, Fen'Harel.

Varric is a result of years of time happening to the version of the World Solas brought about. Its...it's like God is talking to a creation of his that has every right to hate him, to want to desire to go back before all the bad shit, and instead Varric says, okay, get the anger out, how do you feel now? Empty? That's okay too, take your time.

Solas is a weary traveler ready to end it all and Varric is the equally weary traveler who says, tell me about it, and then talks your ear off so much you start believing in the world again.

Basically, Varric's method is to embrace the history and the scars, embrace the hurt and once it's done, get something to eat. Varric forgives but doesn't forget, his plan has Cole let go of his anger in the end, but Cole will remember the hurt he felt, and inflicted and so will the people he inflicted them on.

[ricoka]

It's been like 84 years since I last seriously tried to make fanart, outside of sketching footballers 😬, and it feels so odd

[gibbearish]

btw its interesting the way james tries to imply that like. well the videos that have plagiarism are the ones our dumb stupid annoying patrons requested about bad topics that didnt deserve to have the effort put in to covering them well so basically its fine. like obv thats interesting on its own but moreso the fact that he doesnt actually /say/ it, or like. give a list of the videos hes referring to, just says "those videos are very clear on which ones they were" i think as a nod meaning like "yknow the ones everyones talking about". unless what hes meaning is that like they put a note in certain videos saying "this video was requested by a patron, we here at james somertom incorporated do not espouse these views" which seems unlikely to me. idk methinks maybe it's because there is indeed a lot more than people think and with all the buzz he's not sure which ones have been discovered yet or not, so putting down a solid list that missed some would look like he was still hiding things whereas putting down a fully sourced list would be admitting to wayyyy more than anyone's found yet

[pezpenser205]

the main reason i know im not femme in the slightest is bc i cant comprehend why anyone would Ever want to be feminine. i can understand neutral leaning fem, but the idea that people are born wanting to be feminine is appalling to me personally because femininity always felt like imprisonment and torture. it was and still is a restraint. a training weight i was forced to bear. i cant fully empathize or understand anyone who wants to be more feminine because i have never and will never want to be more feminine out of anything other than pressure or insecurity. im most comfortable being gender neutral, hairy and disgusting in old gym shorts and stained tshirts no matter how much insecurity it causes me. i dont care. im never dressing up all pretty for anyone elses benefit ever again. and i assume this is how people who want to be feminine feel about masculinity to some extent. if thats the case im super glad we could trade because holy moly

[insane-weasel]

I think as writers we should hold funerals for our WIPs more often.

Dearly beloved, gather us here today where this fic of some middle-aged man getting rawdogged and this other fanfic about the importance of friendship are laid to rest, because the author got really distracted playing that new video game.

We celebrate what could have been, cut-and-recycle those really good lines or ideas, because I swear I'm going to use them, I swear! And drag this poor document not to the great recycling bin or trash, but to the "graveyard" folder because sometimes I like to commune with the dead.

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

[4unnyr0se]

PLEASEEEE MATCHING WITH CAPTAINS ON TINDER WITH USHI AND KITA PLEASEEE IM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES 🙁 FROM ONE AUTISTIC TO ANOTHER I AM BEGGING YOU

❥ timeskip! haikyuu captains matching with you on tinder | wakatoshi ushijima and shinsuke kita

warnings: timeskip! ushijima and kita, fem! reader size kink, protected sex, hayloft sex, unprotected sex, biting, marking, virgin! ushijima, soft dom! kita, spanking, rough sex, tendou mentioned, kind of dom reader for ushijima

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 2k

Wakatoshi Ushijima | Loosing his virginity

Ushijima wasn’t a stranger to people talking about their sex lives around him. His face was so stoic and statuesque that no one could tell if he was uncomfortable listening to the subject. The topics spoken in his vicinity ranged from how big a woman’s breasts were to how someone lost their virginity. He had to admit, he was a bit more awkward around those conversations because he couldn’t relate. He was a 26-year-old virgin, while his teammates and rivals had no doubt lost their virginity years prior. Some people even lost their virginity in high school. How scandalous!

He had contacted Tendou, his closest friend from Shirtatorizawa, to hopefully give him advice on the subject. Tendou was shocked at first (and found this entire situation to be completely hilarious) but offered his advice anyway. He told Ushijima that losing your virginity doesn’t have to be a big deal, that it doesn’t have to be romantic or special. It’s just something that happens, and everyone is different. Tendou also recommended downloading Tinder, which is a very useful resource. “If you want sex with no strings attached, look no further.” his words rang in Ushijima’s ears, his thumb hovering directly over your profile. You seemed like a good match for him, but he didn’t really know what he wanted yet. 

Shrugging his shoulders, he slid right on your profile and was surprised when you matched with him. He had very clearly stated that he was a virgin in his biography (Why would he not? It was accurate), so that kind of deterred people from matching with him. You messaged him instantly, suggesting he visit your apartment sometime this week. Of course, he accepted; that was the whole reason why he was on that app. He had one concern, however. Ushijima was massive, bigger than any other man by a wide margin. Could you handle him?

“Shh,” gentle sounds left your lips as you covered your dripping core above Ushijima’s length, observing how it was practically twitching with want for you. “We don’t have to rush things, okay? I know it’s your first time, baby,” you kissed the side of his cheek tenderly, your nails dragging themselves up and down his muscular chest. “Just let me make you feel good.”

He could only nod as your lips touched his once more, biting on his swelling bottom lip playfully. His hands rested on your hips, kneading the flesh between his calloused fingers. His usual stoic face was flushed, lipstick marks adorning his chapped lips and thick neck. He impatiently squeezed your hips, not daring to open his mouth just yet. 

“Oh? Are you ready now, ‘Toshi?” you purred, breaking the kiss to lower yourself down even further. “You have to tell me if you want this, baby. Or else I won’t do it.”

“P-please,” Ushijima mumbled, his eyes staring intensely into yours. He couldn’t take it anymore; he needed to feel you. He needed to know if the stories his teammates told him were true and if it felt like euphoria once he was inside you. Without giving you any warning, he thrust his hips upwards, pushing his pulsating shaft inside your sobbing core. “Sorry, couldn’t wait any longer. Fuck.”

“Shit!” you cried out, balancing yourself on his broad shoulders. “Y-you’re really fucking big. G-gimme a second, okay?” your breath was quick and shallow, your walls wrapping so perfectly around his huge cock. Was he really a virgin? There was no way in hell someone with that big of a dick was a virgin. After regaining your composure, your hips began to move up and down on his length, a wanton mewl escaping your lips as the tip of his cock brushed against your most sensitive place. 

“Go faster,” Ushijima demanded, gripping harder onto your hips. He wanted to take charge but had no experience in this department. What if he messed up? What if he hurt you? His left hand was the size of your entire ass, you were so fragile compared to him. “Wanna feel more of you.” He cracked his palm against your ass softly, massaging the stinging flesh soon afterward. 

You nodded, burying your blushing face in his neck. Your bruised lips peppered soft kisses on his skin as you continued to bounce up and down on his gigantic cock, his head brushing against your cervix so deliciously. All that could be heard in your apartment was the sensual sound of R&B music, your wanton cries of pleasure, and Ushijima’s occasional grunt or deep moan. He wasn’t very vocal, but he was close; he could feel his cock twitching inside of you, relishing in the sensation of your gummy walls, attempting to milk him for all he was worth. “I’m, fuck, I’m gonna cum soon. Feels fucking incredible.”

“D-d’ya wanna cum inside o-or on my tits?” you whimpered, feeling your own climax quickly approaching. He was just so fucking big, and his voice was so deep. Each word he spoke made your clit throb even harder. “P-please ‘Toshi!”

“Inside,” he demanded, bolding, leaning up to kiss you once more. The kiss was molten, full of fire and passion that he had so long oppressed. He groaned in your mouth as he felt you let go of your cock, feeling your body convulse around him. The sounds of your pathetic and fucked out mewls drove him over the edge, his cum painting the walls of your womb white. 

You broke the kiss and smiled at him, pulling yourself off of his cock with a pop! Ushijima groaned at the sight of his seed trickling down your thighs so beautifully, looking like a Renaissance painting. Was this the sensation his teammates were talking about earlier, was it this kind of beauty? 

“Was that a good first time?” you asked, snapping him out of his wandering thoughts. He nodded and got off the bed, dressing himself quickly. “Yes, I liked it. Thanks.” The faintest tinge of pink dusted his cheeks, his eyes not daring to meet yours. He knew that if he looked into your pretty eyes again, he would be included to stay, and he couldn’t risk getting distracted from volleyball. 

“You have my number if you ever want to, y’know, fuck again. You were really good for a virgin.” Was that a compliment or an insult? Ushijima couldn’t tell. Maybe it was both, he didn’t take it personally. He turned towards you, still not making eye contact. Fuck, you were so damn pretty. Was missing his practice tomorrow really worth it? Did he want to have you in his arms that badly? 

“Maybe I’ll give you a call some other time.”

Shinsuke Kita | The florist

Kita loved the local farmers market. It was where he could sell his rice without worrying about the middleman. It was peaceful, seeing the mothers bring their children and pets. Seeing couples holding hands as they checked out the local food and drink vendors. This weekend, Kita wasn’t at his usual booth. He chose to browse instead, having turned an acceptable profit this month. There were stands that he had seen a million times before and one that was brand new. Fresh, the paint is not yet chipped off by children carelessly running into it. And it smelled beautiful, but that was no surprise. After all, it was a florist's booth.

He saw no one running the stand currently, maybe they were on break. Kita shrugged and took out his phone, opening Tinder to mindlessly swipe through it. It wasn’t an ideal pastime, but it beat standing around waiting for the floral stall owner to show up. 

You greeted him with a rushed hello, an embarrassed blush tinting your cheeks as you apologized for being away from the stand for so long. Before Kita could respond, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Opening the notification, you saw none other but the profile of the man standing before you, looking incredibly attractive. 

“You matched with me,” you blushed, holding your phone for Kita to see. He smiled softly, thinking it was adorable how you could barely make eye contact with him. 

“It appears I have.”

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so well, princess,” Kita purred against your lips, thrusting into you so gently Like you would break like you were made of glass. “Think you can take more of me, darling? I’m barely halfway inside that pretty pussy.”

Fuck, his voice made you squeeze around him even harder. Here you were, laying under him in a hayloft with your hands clawing desperately at his muscular back whilst he thrust inside of you so slowly, painfully slow. Was he trying to be a tease? Was making you squirm his kink? “J-just fuck me already! Don’t tease. It’s mean!” you whimpered in frustration, attempting to angle your hips in such a way that you could feel Kita deeper inside of your core. 

“I’m not trying to be mean, sweetness,” he chuckled against your lips, pecking them softly. They tasted like vanilla and roses, a pure scent that did not fit you being defiled in a hayloft. “Just don’t wanna be too rough with you, that’s all.” he squeezed your wrists, pinning them above your hand with just one of his hands. “But if a pretty girl like you wants me to go rough, I guess I have no choice.”

The atmosphere changed instantly as Kita slammed himself into you at full force, his length pistoning in and out of your sobbing core. Your pathetic and adorable sobs of pleasure filled the hayloft, the occasional beg and plead thrown in as Kita destroyed your insides with his cock. He was holding back, not wanting to break any barriers you had set up. But when you beg him in that angelic voice to fuck you, who is he to refuse a darling such as yourself?

“Is this any better, sweetheart?” Kita groaned against your neck, trailing kisses down the already bruised flesh until he reached that sweet spot just above your collarbone. His teeth just grazed the skin as he continued to practically slam into you, shaking the sensitive wood of the hayloft with each powerful thrust inside your drenched core. “Do you like it when I fuck you like this instead, hm?”

“Yes! Fuck, Kita! M’close, holy fuck! I’m so fucking close, please!” you sobbed into his shoulder, your nails leaving angry crescent imprints on his back in accompaniment with the array of feral red scratches. “Please, please, please! Lemme cum!”

Kita moaned at your desperate words, the cadence of your voice making his dick twitch deep inside of you. He was close to his climax as well, your mewls of pleasure making the sensations he was feeling all the more delicious. “Yeah, you wanna cum pretty girl? It’s okay, cum on my fucking cock. Fucking make a mess all over me.” he bit down harshly onto your collarbone, punctuating every other sentence fragment with a powerful thrust into your weeping cunt. He felt your gummy walls attempting to pull him impossibly deeper, your orgasm approaching incredibly fast.

Finally, your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave of complete euphoria. You sobbed as your release coated his cock, almost sending Kita over the edge in tandem. Quickly, Kita pulled out of your throbbing core and frantically fisted his cock, quietly roaring as his hot and sticky ropes of white painted your stomach so beautifully. He stood above you for a moment, admiring how beautiful you were from his point of view. Shaking from your orgasm, covered in his mess. You looked so fucking perfect.

“That was incredible,” Kita smiled at you, sitting beside you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, kissing the teeth marks he had left earlier. “Do you feel good, sweetheart?” His tone was soft, gentle, and kind. He wanted to ensure you knew you would be cared for, even though you both accomplished what you wanted. 

“I feel amazing, thank you.” you smiled, resting your face on his exposed shoulder. Your eyes landed on the scratches and marks you left on his back, fingers tracing over them tenderly. “Uh, sorry about all of this. I’m not usually this rough.”

Kita kissed the top of your head and pulled you closer to his form, caging you in his muscular arms whilst he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. 

“You have nothing to worry about, pretty girl.”

okay this ask was literally so sweet i love u nonnie

[apollos-boyfriend]

Hey I've been observing from afar through your reaction blogging, I haven't been in mcyt as much since the dsmp ended but I still care about a lot of the people in the mcyt circle and I'm interested in what goes on - care to give a rundown of what happened at this twitch rivals thing everyone keeps talking about? (no pressure only if you want to) Aside from the fact I'm sure it was terribly run like most twitch rival events are, but it sounds like there was more to it than that

okay so. i am going to be missing quite a few details because i missed a day myself + my streamer could not care less, so i heavily encourage others to add on stuff i missed

this was a multi-day competition, running for 5 days with prize rewards from 1k to 100k. it started with i think 150 players, with select numbers of people getting eliminated each round. day 1-2 are fairly normal, at least for twitch rivals. of all the games that got played through the whole event, i'd say like 1 was actually good, and maybe 2 were decent, at best. most are bad, poorly-executed, poorly thought out, or just boring in terms of both player enjoy-ability and content creation.

DAY 3 EDIT:

now, sapnap's been sapnap for this entire event already. obnoxious, a bad sport, but most notably, playing DMCA'd songs. the event ran on proximity chat, so while he was unmuted, everyone around him would also be subject to said songs, which could mute vods at worst and terminate accounts at best. most people are fed up with him at this point. while everyone's trying to come up with solutions for the glitch, sapnap spams the discord with useless shit. couriway calls him out in the discord, calling him annoying and obnoxious, then later calling him a cunt in twitch chat. sapnap uses couriway and feinberg's name in his stream title for clickbait and talks shit about them + their friends (hbg/house builder gang). he also makes some weird comment asking if couri is homophobic because sap was talking about having skeppy's dick in his mouth?? or something?? i'm unsure exactly how day 3's issue of the glitch resolved.

day 4 is also your average experience with your usual range of average to horribly painful games. sapnap continues to be a bitch and not take responsibility for his stans attacking anyone in sight, but what else is new

day 5 is. bad. the game set for deciding the final competitors can be cheesed (if you let someone else do all the work, you can punch them in the last second and steal their win) and eliminates like 20 people at once. on top of that, a glitch happens that leaves the server on standby for at least 30 minutes while admins decide what to do. firebreathman sends a picture of a bare naked ass in the discord. someone else sends a photo of their debit card. streamers entertain themselves in various ways, including growing a cactus (fulham), playing osu (purpled), collecting other people's streams for their overlay (fruitberries), playing slime rancher (badboyhalo), and building real-life furniture (couriway). tubbo (who was already eliminated at this point) starts jumping between streams and asking in chat for the tea. the game is eventually replayed, deciding the final 4 players, but it's just as broken and at that point, no one wants to be there anymore. it's revealed through multiple streamers (purpled, i believe also feinberg) that twitch rivals games are not tested before being ran. the only testing done was a stress test to see if the server could handle all original 150-some players. this explains why the games are so bad and poorly organized (some games take over an hour, others barely 30 minutes).

the final four are sapnap, shadoune, sneegsnag, and i think feinberg. it's the most anticlimatic game of connect 4 you can imagine. sneeg eliminates sapnap, and shadoune eliminates fein. notably, fein's game glitches during a throw, which despite being obviously a glitch, the coordinators brush off as being "part of the game". fein and multiple other streamers spend time analyzing every pov frame by frame and all agree that yeah, that was a glitch. shadoune and sneeg are left for the finals. they come to an agreement that this is stupid and a horrible event. tired of this bullshit, they purposefully stall the games and run a podcast for approximately 2 hours, forcing the coordinators to bend to their commands hunger games-style. essentially since the first glitch of the day people were begging twitch to just split the money, something that wouldn't be easy according to tubbo, because everything is pre-signed and delegated before the event. sneeg and shadoune give no fucks, and force the coordinators to split the money anyway, winning the day through the power of friendship. i cannot stress enough how no one wanted to fucking be there by the end of all this.

[pumpkin-cake]

begging for ANYTHING fix it related for the most recent season !!!

five x reader and they are married?? it would be nice if the reader had a more relaxed job in comparison to five in the CIA (the reader used to also work for the commission but wanted a calm life)

like maybe working in a daycare or flower shop?

i’m honestly begging for anything sweet please if you’ve got the time !

THIS HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD. YES, I WILL WRITE THIS FOR YOU <3 I ALSO HATE THE WAY THEY CHARACTERIZED FIVE IN THE NEW SEASON. This will be very domestic :3 And it's been a while since I've written Five, I hope he's not too out of character, let me know if you have any pointers :3

The door to your apartment creaks open and heavy footsteps enter, the jangling sounds of house keys hitting the ceramic bowl reaching your ears with a sigh following.

"Good evening, Jerome." You coo.

"I did not pick that name, quit calling me it." Five huffs as he shrugs off his suit jacket, entering the living room. He looked tired, but he was okay with that. He didn't want to settle for some repetitive job he'd be bored as hell at. Even if they gave him stupid aliases like Jerome.

"You could have at least asked. That's embarrassing, telling people your name is Jerome. What about...Ethan? Or even something that's close to Five. Like, Finn, or something." You answered with a chuckle, while Five crumpled on the couch next to you.

"There isn't any point. It's not like you need to go around calling me that name." He said, taking off his tie and laying it across the arm of the sofa. "Anyway, how was work?" He asked, taking off his brown Oxfords and laying them nearby but out of the main walkway. He reached over to the stack of papers on the coffee table and looked at the first page. "Jesus, this is the sloppiest handwriting I've ever seen."

"Ah yes, because children who still have shitty motor skills are going to be writing in perfect print. That's why they only have to write their names, not write full-fledged essays." You said sarcastically, plucking the piece of paper from his hands. You looked over the assignment your kindergarteners were given. The instructions were to count the different types of bugs on the paper. There were no more than 9 of each bug. 4 butterflies, 7 caterpillars, 1 beetle, 8 spiders.

"I was never that dumb." Five said a little snarkily, pointing to the answer spot that said there were only 5 caterpillars.

"Don't be such a prick." You huffed, getting out a blue pen. You didn't like to use red, too harsh. You circled each answer wrong, not making any corrections.

"How are you even meant to teach them this? It's basic counting." Five asked, sort of actually curious.

"We'll just go over it in class tomorrow. Everyone will count together."

"Then what's the point of the homework?"

You groaned. "We are not having this conversation anymore, old man." You pulled out a pack of stickers, putting one on each sheet of paper.

"You're just as old." He countered with a smirk, leaving you to roll your eyes and continue 'grading' the papers. He did shut up and drop the subject, letting his hand stray to your hand that wasn't busy grading papers. He wasn't ever one for physical affection in the past, but ever since getting to this place? He was more lenient. He was never hanging off of you, but his touches were gentler. Each contact of skin was a small way of saying 'I love you', because it was hard to say it out loud after years of isolation.

The biggest way of him saying he loved you was twisting the ring that nicely fit on your finger like he was doing right now. Like he was making sure you were aware of its presence and meaning.

You finished the papers in less than five minutes. You did not envy the fourth-grade teachers who had actual homework to grade. "Your dinner is in the fridge." You told him, taking his other hand and playing with the black band that adorned his ring finger.

"Not hungry." He said shortly, like he was offended you'd ever assume he wanted to do something aside from this. He wouldn't ever say that out loud, of course.

"It's sushi. Made by yours truly." You added, holding back a chuckle when he sucked in a deep breath, very torn between the options. It was weird, able to sit and think about something. He wasn't rushing home to eat and go to bed, he got to do domestic shit with you and fuck did he love it.

"..." Five stayed silent like a brooding teenager.

"I'll come with you." You reasoned, and he reluctantly sat up. You smiled and got up with him, the two of you traversing to the kitchen. He opened the door to the fridge and grabbed the small Tupperware of delicious looking sushi. You were not a fan of Commission cafeteria food, and you took pride in buying the best ingredients for you and your spouse. You were already grabbing him a pair of chopsticks, sitting with him at the kitchen island.

"...thanks." He said after eating a roll. He was stubborn, but he really did appreciate you taking the time to make more for him when he got home late. It was so nice to come home to a homemade meal. It reminded him of Grace.

"Of course, honey." You smiled, sitting in silence while he ate. He savored every moment. After being in the apocalypse for forty years, he really grew to appreciate the things he didn't have. He swore he would never take this life for granted.

He never questioned why, because the whole reason was sitting right next to him.

[endearng]

Doomed

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: If you and Spencer had a nickel every time someone teased you after witnessing your interactions, you'd have two nickels, which isn't much — but it's weird that it happened twice. WC: 4.4k Warnings: Mentions of abandonment and I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: HI!!! I'm so obsessed with them... in a normal amount of course. I'm thinking about writing casually for them, who knows... Also,,,, who am I if not a morcia truther….. I hope you enjoy it! Feedbacks are always appreciated <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

You were doomed from the moment he bid you goodbye.

"So, who's he?" Victoria inquired, a sly smirk on her face and a bashful expression on yours.

"Who's who?" You asked, trying to feign nonchalance.

She groaned playfully, "You know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I don't." You winked, sitting on your couch again, between the two women. Sex and the City was playing on the TV across from the three of you.

"You're acting like us as freshmen when the seniors looked at us—" she retorted.

"I thought we didn't talk about that," Jude deadpanned.

"You're 'I don't know what you're talking about' me? I thought we were friends!" Victoria poked you in the rib.

"Ouch! He's just a friendly neighbor, that's it." You said, trying to cut the subject. Jude looked at you suspiciously. "White wine time."

From Spencer's apartment, he could hear the sound of chatter, joyful laughter and opening bottles for the rest of the night. He didn't know how to feel by your invitation, now that he had calmed down after looking you in the eye for a moment, technically, all by yourselves. He would definitely feel inappropriate at a kid's birthday where he barely knew the people who invited him, but he thought that Olivia's gesture was amazingly endearing. What could possibly be more childishly adorable than an infant trying to help and making a 'mistake'? And what could possibly be more devastatingly endearing than a mother taking advantage of said mistake to make it right?

Spencer studied the card for a moment. It fit the palm of his hand, tiny and delicate. It had a different address from yours and the time of the party, all of it lovely handwritten, just like the letters from calligraphy practice notebooks. It seemed like Olivia put a lot of effort in trying to perfect her handiwork. It read:

Hey, it's Oli!

I'm turning six and I want to celebrate it with you!

The contents of the slip of paper were adorned by dainty drawings related to birthdays: party hats, cake, gifts, some decoration and so on. It suddenly dawned on him that he was actually becoming closer to the people he always thought lived a perfect life. His mind had a tendency to wander and, for a fleeting moment, he thought about what it would be like to be part of that perfect life.

Olivia was a perfectionist child. He saw the expected behavior of the age in her manners, but the care with her work almost made him think someone else had done it for her. Something told him it wasn't the case, though.

Secured by two magnets, he placed Olivia's birthday party invitation on his fridge. You know, just so he wouldn't forget it — he tried to convince himself.

Everybody knew about his otherworldly memory, but he decided to forget it purposefully.

"Good morning, good ghost. I didn't see you anymore." Olivia greeted as she saw Spencer in front of the elevator. You were just locking your door closed, hyping yourself up for the week ahead of you when you heard it and a shiver ran down your spine. This, whatever it was, was getting out of hand.

"Good morning, Miss Olivia!" He said, a sweet tone of voice. You melted. "It's true. It's been a while. I was here on the weekend, but it seemed like you had other plans." He stuck his hand out for her to shake. She did it in a heartbeat.

"I was with my grandma and grandpa. They took me to the movies and grandpa made me lasagna." She explained as you approached them, adjusting your bag and Olivia's backpack in each of your arms. "Did'ya get my birthday party invitation?"

"Yes, I did! Thank you for inviting me. But, you know, your mother probably needed the rest of them for the other guests." He said as the elevator opened. He gestured for you to enter it first, so you did it with a grateful nod.

"Sorry, mommy. I didn't mean it." Olivia looked at you briefly, ashamed that you would call her out.

"I know, baby, 's okay. Everyone has one now." You assured her with a light tone. Breathe. "Hi, Spencer. Good morning." You said as he joined you in the elevator.

He breathed out, "Good morning. Hi." He had a big smile on his face, standing right next to you, you both facing the door and Olivia in front of you. Internally, he felt like a puppy who had his owners’ undivided attention.

Olivia pressed the button to the lobby. You noticed a book in his hands. Courage. "So, what are you reading, Spencer?"

He gulped. Were you talking to him? It took him a moment to get a grip and realize that he hadn't answered you. Struggling to find the words and suddenly unable to remember what he was actually reading. "Me? I'm just re-reading one of Dostoievski's books. Notes from Underground."

"Dosto-what?" Olivia chipped in.

You looked at her, ready to tell her to not interrupt someone, but couldn't stop yourself from giggling. Spencer watched it fondly. "It's Dostoievski, baby. D'you remember that one book with the 'ugly' cover that mommy was reading the other day?" You asked her, air quoting the word 'ugly'. “It wasn’t ugly. It just wasn’t pink.” You explained it, looking at Spencer. He grinned.

"Yeah. You didn't read to me because it was work." She said, getting distracted with one of her braids.

"Are you a teacher?" He asked, intrigued.

"No. I actually work for a publishing company. Sometimes I have interesting content to revise." You said, a tinge of irony in your voice. He smiled at you, feeling comfortable enough to joke around him without the awkwardness of that first encounter.

The elevator door opened. Olivia jumped out. "I bet it's interesting," was the best he could come up with. Tongue tied.

“Yeah. It’s a good book.”

Like a fucking teenager, he watched as you left with your daughter. Your mixed laughter echoing in the lobby as Olivia spinned around while you carried the weight all by yourself.

He scolded himself for not remembering to offer you help.

Two days later, a few states over, Spencer sat on a chair at the conference room of the precinct they were working with. The case was exhausting and he just wanted it to be over, but it wasn't that simple. He waited for Derek Morgan — he was his ride that night back to the hotel they were crashing on. He was in front of Derek as he and Penelope talked, her image on the computer screen. The man's nonchalant tone was a riddle for her to unsolve — everyone else was aware that there was definitely something between them (an unspoken dictionary worth of words), even if their interactions were deemed as jokes. Penelope, feeling very shy, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at her lap after a particular comment about her smile. As she did so, her eyes caught a glance of her watch. "Oh, shoot. I have to go," she murmured, relieved to have a way out of the exchange that had high chances of turning her into a nervous wreck. "I'm so sorry, handsome! Tomorrow is one of my friend's daughter's birthday."

A flash of disappointment crossed Derek's features. Not that she'd noticed. Instead of pressing her, he chose to say, "Need extra energy to keep up with the kids, babygirl?" Ah, there was it. The teasing tone. She was definitely imagining things.

"Not as much as I need to keep up with you, tiger," she replied with a wink, the dynamic between them quickly shifting back to the usual playful banter. Both of them wanted more than playful and far more than banter, but none of them had the courage to admit it, to be straightforward about it. Spencer understood it, really. Speaking made things too real. "But, seriously. I totally forgot to pick up her gift. Olivia loves reading, so I'll go to the mall. I'm glad I already bought it, so I won't get home late."

If he was a dog, Spencer's ears would have definitely perked up from how quickly he associated one thing to another. Could it be the same Olivia? Your Olivia? "Okay, mama. Be safe." Derek said.

"I will," she smiled as she hung up.

Idiots.

Maybe Derek was too serious about the "no profiling each other" rule they set.

"Let’s go, pretty boy," The dark-skinned agent stated. Spencer got up, grabbed his bag and made his way to the elevator with her.

As they chatted about nothing in particular, walking out of the precinct, he desperately wanted to ask him if she truly didn't see past Penelope's sudden shyness. It wasn't in his nature to do that, of course, but as Derek and Penelope were two of the most important people in his life, he wondered why wouldn't they be a thing by now, since they enjoyed themselves so much and were so open about their affections towards one another.

He was quickly ripped away from his thoughts when the man suddenly spoke up, “So, what's your deal lately, Reid? What's she like?"

The doctor choked on his own saliva, which made him cough like crazy. Derek laughed, but tried to help his panicked friend. "What was that, man?" he asked worriedly, once he saw Spencer had finally inhaled a gulp of air.

Face as red as a tomato, cough dying in his throat, "what was what?" Derek returned to his normal self once he noticed his friend was able to finally form a coherent sentence.

"You're gonna act dumb now that you almost died when I talked about her?" Derek questioned, teasing tone, "it was just a lucky guess, but I see you, Reid. You're daydreaming far too often for what's acceptable for the boy genius who's as focused as a laser beam."

Spencer looked straight ahead as they got to the exit. He should have cornered Derek first. "Why would you think it has anything to do with a 'her'?" He chuckled, nervous to be caught red-handed — even if he wasn't doing anything wrong.

Was it wrong to want? He felt like it was. All his life, really. Had no chance to want anything because either was a far too distant reality, person, happiness for him to grasp it or it was ripped away from him too soon, before he could even acknowledge what was happening inside him. That's why want was almost a foreign sensation for Spencer. He had been deprived of it for as long as he could remember.

"Because people get a little dumb when they're in love. At least, ordinary people do. Apparently, so do geniuses," he snickered, his mind also set on teasing Spencer.

Maybe it was dumb to reveal his secret, jaw dropping crush on his cute neighbor, but he wanted some sort of relief to that mess of tangled thoughts inside his head and the strange, to say the least, feelings brewing on his chest whenever he saw you. You barely knew each other. But he supposed it was yet another part of the want he wasn’t familiar with: it didn't need much and it took all consciousness out the door. It wasn't uncommon for him to feel like his heart was being ripped out of his chest whenever he was on the field, especially since he was often facing danger. The way the events were unfolding were scarily similar to his cases: he noticed you, made up theories based on your behavior and routine, and slowly, oh, so slowly, started to approach you. Not to put you away, but for more personal reasons.

What was different was the feeling in his heart, instead of the sensation of being squeezed painfully inside his ribcage, often leading to ragged breathing, now felt like it was being held delicately by a pair of caring, dainty hands. Either way, his heart was fighting in the frontline and relied on the other part to be calmed and saved. The least he could do was try to be careful, finally opting not saying anything to Derek.

"Just a lot on my mind lately," he chose to say, instead. Derek dropped the subject, too tired to press it further.

Olivia's party had come to an end an hour ago. You got to see old friends and talked until they got every single ounce of information about your life lately and so did you about theirs. Your daughter had enjoyed her party greatly, and hugged every. single. person. who came to wish her happy birthday and thanked them for being there. She paid little attention to the gifts, too focused on spending time with her friends, playing with them until the sugar rush wore off — all of them had a massive candy intake that day. You didn't spend much time with her, but she promised you that she would unwrap her gifts the next morning with you, the most adorable toothless grin on her face.

Despite everything flowing accordingly, all day long, your stomach churned with anticipation. You wondered if Olivia's dad would show up, since the day she was born was, quote, the happiest of his life. His parents did, and when you looked at them anxiously, his mother shot you a neutral glance. Not a word from his end was its meaning. Your daughter never asked anything about him during the day, which made you even more jittery. You feared she would have a breakdown at any time, so you paid extra attention to her.

It never came.

You had missed the deadline of a book chapter that you had to revise, too caught up on trying to balance everything in your life, so your parents told you they'd stay with her so you could go home to work and take her in the morning. Normally, you wouldn't accept it, but your father had decided you were too tired to wake her to go home, so you complied. Right after the guests left, you did all the steps of her night routine, except for the bedtime story — she was that tired of all the running around in the backyard. You were sure she would sleep all night long.

Once she dozed off, you stood for a moment in her grand-bedroom (she had come up with that and it kind of stuck with you). Your parents had decorated it while you were still pregnant. She needs to feel at home, was what your mother said when you walked in on them assembling her crib. You almost cried, overwhelmed with joy. Your fiancé, then, had rolled up his sleeves to help out. Oh, the irony.

Her room was full of photographs that held many memories of her six years of life. You could never imagine that you could love this much, let alone dedicate yourself so entirely to someone like you did for her. Even though it was hard and you often didn't feel like you were enough to raise her on your own, Olivia was a wonderful child and her gestures and overall behavior assured you you were doing a good job. The reflection brought tears to your eyes. You drove home by yourself.

Currently, in your apartment, it felt a little too big without Olivia in there — too many books, too many chairs, too much space on your sofa, too many toys scattered around with nobody to play with them. You sighed, deciding on going to the kitchen to make you a cup of tea — you felt like your brain was hammering inside your skull and you still needed to spend time in front of a computer screen. Going back to your small office to wallow in self pity and second guess yourself even as you read whatever material it was, you heard a knock on the door.

You checked your watch. 9p.m. On a Saturday.

Weird.

Through the peephole, you saw someone you truly weren't expecting. "Spencer?" You asked as you opened the door, surprise filling your being. "I didn't think you'd come, I supposed you were at work. I mean, sometimes it feels like you barely have a routine, heh. But, um, thanks for dropping by." You said, a little unfiltered. Not even five seconds in his presence and you were already making a fool of yourself in front of him.

He held a small bouquet of flowers in one of his hands and a gift in the other. To a stranger's eye, it seemed like he had missed your birthday and was trying to apologize for it. You blushed at the thought. He shut his eyes, sorry crossing his features. "I know. I'm sorry I missed it, even though I really didn't want to. You were right, I was away on a case." You smiled, dismissing his apologies and soothing his worries once you did so.

"It's alright with me. She was totally expecting you, though. Kept asking where you were for the first hour. Then she got distracted with candy," you told him, "so she's the one you're gonna need to apologize to." You joked.

"T—that's why I'm here."

"I'm just not sure if Olivia is old enough to get flowers," you said, face serious. His eyes went wide and it took him a moment to understand, but once he looked at your serious expression cracking, his shoulders shook with laughter, with you. If you had more attention, you'd seen the moment his ears turned red.

Your laughter died down. A beat of silence. "These are actually for you." He revealed.

You were stunned. "Oh," you said, suddenly at a loss of words. "Thank you so much."

He gave you the flowers and you gracefully accepted. You were mesmerized by them; colors swimming in harmony before your eyes and the scent making you feel dizzy. Maybe not the scent, but the emotions you were feeling with the surprise. He went out of his way to get you those flowers — it's safe to say that it had been a while since you felt that way. "I—I have no words, Spencer. Really. Thank you so much," your voice choked.

You looked at each other for a brief moment. You tried to show how much you appreciated his gesture. You grinned, trying to get out of that haze, "Do you want to come in? Oli's with my parents, so you won't be able to apologize today," you quipped, making room for him to enter.

"Yeah, I'd love to."

"You can place the giftbox on the coffee table." He went inside, toeing off his shoes in the small space you had before the living room. Once he was there, he saw you enter the kitchen to find a vase. He could see you from where he stood. "Make yourself at home. Do you want some tea? I have Earl Gray."

Your voice was distant as he took in his surroundings. "Yeah, I'd like it." He murmured as he looked around. Your walls were a light gray, adorned with pictures of you and Olivia, some people he assumed were some of your friends. The wall behind the sofa was entirely covered by a big bookshelf that went from one end to the other, filled with books and souvenirs from basically everywhere. The dark wood of the furniture complemented the light walls in a cozy way, some toys and kids books scattered around the floor. The apartment smelled like fresh printed sheets of paper and earl gray tea. You had a few indoor plants that looked well taken care of. Spencer was admiring your degree from Stanford, which hung on the wall beside the TV, almost close to the door.

"One of my biggest achievements. Besides Olivia, of course," you approached him with his mug of tea. Turning to you, he noticed through his peripheral vision that you had placed the flowers inside a vase and in your coffee table.

"Thanks," he said.

"So... are you okay?"

The question caught him off guard. What?

You smiled a little. "You always look kinda tired when I see you," you said, not thinking about how your words might be interpreted. Your eyes widened, realizing it. "I mean, no! Sorry! You're still pretty, don't worry. It's just— I asked because you might be going through something. Forget I said anything about your looks."

He would definitely never forget.

Spencer laughed, flustered, eyes softly gazing at you while you rambled like a madman. "I'm fine, thanks for asking. Sometimes my job is a little demanding and I'm forced to see some things that usually people don't even think exist," he confessed.

You bit your lip. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be," he retorted, "I have a great team to work with."

"I'm glad to hear that. Sorry I brought it up, you probably don't want to talk about work right now." You said, sipping on your tea.

"Yeah, you're right, again," he chuckled. "How was Olivia's birthday?" He tried a change of subject.

"That was actually the reason I was moping when you got here," you said, trying to force a chuckle. "It was nice, I guess. I was just on edge all day trying to anticipate her emotions regarding her dad, but I guess they never came. At least, not today." You beckoned him to sit with you on the couch, now facing each other directly.

"May I ask why?" He asked, tentatively.

"Why what?"

More hesitance. "Why wasn't he there?"

"From what I know, he moved away." You said, tone unreadable.

He worried that he was overstepping and wasn't sure that he would like to hear more about it. He was scared to find out unpleasant news, such as you still had feelings for him. "I'm sorry." Was all he could muster.

"Don't be. I have a great team," you repeated his words from earlier and he smiled at you.

His brain and tongue didn't seem to be working together that night, he was so avid to know more. "Did you always have support?"

"My parents didn't like the idea of having a single mother when they first heard it. It hit me hard back then, but then I realized it was better to be alone than to stay in an unhappy relationship, especially since Olivia was already in the picture." You said, setting your own mug on the coffee table.

"What happened?" Stop it.

He couldn't help it, he was too curious. It was his first opportunity to truly know the novel sort of family that you had. Apparently, not so much.

"He was distant before leaving. Someone else, maybe?" You asked, rhetorically, a crease between your eyebrows. "I never found out, but I don't want or need to, either. His parents absolutely love Olivia and they were there today, 's all that matters."

"You’re a very strong person."

"I have to be," you said, softly. "You’re a very good listener."

A rush of courage running through his veins. Deciding on not taking the road of unsaid things, like his friends were earlier. Don’t dance around the subject, take the opportunity. Dare. "And you're just as pretty."

The world stopped. You looked at him in disbelief. It didn't last much. A knock on your door. Scratch that: someone banging on your door.

You pinched your eyebrows together. Spencer stood up, almost as if he was doing something wrong. You looked at him, apologizing, "I'm not expecting anyone."

You walked to the door and he stood behind you, telling you he was going to let you be. You didn't want to and you were already chastising yourself from not trying to talk to him and focusing on your problems instead. You opened the door and in the threshold stood Penelope Garcia, gift basket in hands. Before you could speak, both of your guests spoke at the same time.

A mortified "Garcia?" from Spencer.

A surprised "Spencer?" from Penelope.

Finally, a confused "Do you know each other?" from you.

"Yeah. We work together." Spencer replied. "What are you doing here, Penelope?"

"What are you doing here, boygenius?" Her tone now was teasing, a cheshire grin on her face. You were acting confused, but you were loving to see Spencer so out of place.

"I... I was..." He trailed off.

Poor thing. "He came to drop Olivia's gift. We're neighbors." You explained, trying to save him from further embarrassment.

She glanced between you two, eyes full of mirth behind her glasses. "I'm here to do the same." She said, smiling as she handed you the basket, which you took carefully and thanked her with a side hug. "There's her present, sweetcheeks. I'm so sorry I couldn't be there, you know how much I miss you and Olivia. But I'm sure our genius told you all about it." Her sentimental words truly held emotion, but she turned her attention to Spencer once again. The opportunity was too good to let go.

Spencer looked like a fish out of water. You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. "Garcia, can we talk?" He asked abruptly. "I'm sorry, I have to go." He murmured in a much more soft tone to you.

He could never resume whatever was going on in there because he felt like he had been caught with his pants down.

You were so surprised you didn't even process what was your answer, forgetting to ask if Penelope wanted to come in or anything. "I—Okay. I'll see you, then." With a small smile and slight disappointment in your voice. He all but dashed out of your apartment and took Garcia, who had a mischievous expression on her face, with him. You closed your door and looked at the mix of flowers. A sigh escaped you. Damn, Garcia.

Spencer was escorting Penelope back to her car, ready to bury himself alive because he knew she would run her mouth and knew precisely to whom she would tell about it. And, of course, the endless jokes he would hear during the next few days. "Sooooo..." She trailed off, suggestively.

"I—don't want to talk." She opened her mouth, but had no success in talking. "Not. A. Word."

She entered her car and started the engine as he waited for her to go. But before she started driving, she yelled, "I knew you had it in you, Reid."

From your balcony, work long forgotten, you watched Spencer hide his face in his hands in utter embarrassment.

You were doomed.

[moonchild033]

Moon in the Houses (Part 1)💃💝

This is primarily based on how Moon is related to CHANGES and what possible changes moon placements can bring over time. I've included some other random points too.💛

(These observations are based on the whole sign system, sidereal charts and all obs are subject to change with other aspects in the chart, so don't conclude anything with a single placement, take whatever that resonates and leave the rest,hope you enjoy giving it a read, take it lightly!) ❤

Moon in 1st house- Your overall personality might easily change from time to time. You could also make frequent changes in your appearance. The way you express yourself, whether you are in your confident era or low self esteem era can be easily noticed. You could've been someone who cared a lot for others and emotionally highly expressive but suddenly don't give a fu*k anymore and more closed off. In younger years you could've been more short tempered and take everything personal or straight to the heart, after sometime you find yourself easily moving on and not bothering too much. You are that person whose fashion sense improved a lot and had a mad glow up, people from your school could be amazed by seeing your recent Instagram photos lol. People could say, Oh i almost couldnt recognize you, especially around and after the age of 22. No matter the ascendant, your eyes could be very expressive and frequently blinking or distracted. You can experience significant weight gain or loss, sometimes you feel fat and sometimes lean, your weight could also fluctuate a lot but anyways pretty AF.💅🤩

Moon in 2nd house- You could be an extreme saver, then could think life is to live why am I saving all this if I can't be happy NOW?! So u start to spend, then regret ur decision and go back to saving. You can face difficulty in differentiating between a hobby skill and technical skill you want to improve and pursue, especially can think about making your extracurricular skills as a main source of income. Ex.:You could be doing nail art for fun, then suddenly decides to make it a main career, not satisfied with the outcome and back to keeping it as hobby, this cycle can be noticed. You like to learn many languages or can easily adopt to different accents/slangs in speaking same language. Your stamina could've evolved from being great to lowest or vice versa. Your voice and tone might change, you can experience dry throat or have a husky voice. Food can be your comfort zone, eating good food can easily lighten up your mood instantaneously. You can be emotionally attached to your things, during childhood you could be that kid who had a fancy pencil that you don't give to anyone because you love and value it too much.💸⚡

Moon in 3rd house- You could love your younger siblings or sometimes can't stand their presence, there is no inbetween. Your hearing capacity can reduce due to over usage of earphones, you could be someone who calms down by hearing music continuously. You could've been timid or scared to voice out your feelings or thoughts during young age but turn out to be more vocal about things you care about, striking them hard with your words boldly over time. You can just play music and go on a short trip or at least to the market or neighborhood places often to lighten up your mood quickly. You can find it hard to stay determined for a long time, the cycle of starting something enthusiastically, then feel bored, then rethinking whether it's right, then again feeling dedicated to start again can be seen. When compared with 2H in the same sense, 2H is more about feeling confused and 3H is more about feeling bored or distracted easily. You could write a daily life diary or a secret diary from childhood and maintain it. You just write out your emotions, whether it be just writing your life incidents in a diary or turning it into a poetry.🤠☺

Moon in 4th house- The main theme here is how much of a homebody you are, then suddenly wanting to run away from home, then missing home so much, wanting to come back, again pissed off about staying in home for longer periods, then wanting to leave can be observed. Also the number of times you could've changed your house can be more than other placements, it doesn't have to be residing in different cities everytime, it could be just going to different neighborhood but the changing of houses can be there. Either you love your mother so much or have emotional scars from her, no inbetween but in both cases, the person can have a lot of sympathy and protective of mom. Incase of good placement, you can inherit maternal property easily, incase of neutral or bad placement, maternal properties could be in dispute. These people yearn a lot for comfort zone, they secretly want people around them to pamper and help them be comfortable. Afflicted moon can cause breaks in primary education, strong moon placement can give change of schools.💞💫

Moon in 5th house- For some people, this can give major fluctuations in their mood, like they can go from being extremely bubbly to cussing at somebody in a microseconds. Can give interest in astrology. They could be curious to know what others will think about them and pay attention to it a lot. Incase of strong placement, you could've been the role model kid in your family, a star in whatever you did whether it be studies or extracurricular, this is that cousin we don't want to have lol. You can express your thoughts very clear and loud, you can be opinionated in various topics and tend to stick to it. Your intelligence is not limited to only the course you study, you expand your knowledge to different topics, especially can like politics or just a person who likes to stay up to date with everyday news and happenings. For some people, this can give a major love relationship earlier in life, if other placements support too then this is a potential placement that can attract a young, beautiful spouse and end up marrying the same person.😍🌟

Moon in 6th house- You could feel choked with 9-5 jobs, can feel like it sucks out your joy and damages your mental health. You could've been someone who lived a structured life and entered a fine corporate job but it makes you rethink whether you have to continue doing this, you could've resigned from a hectic routine job atleast once or desperately wanting to do so. Your mental state can directly affect your health (happens for everyone but more easily for this placement). You could overthink a lot about something someone said eons ago. You are a conflict avoider, you don't get into anyone's issues or like to be a mediator, you yourself tend to gravitate away from conflicts even if it's directed towards you. Your friends can complain about this how you are not standing up for them but the issue is you can find it hard to stand up for yourself. Overtime this could flip off and you can burst out with a co worker or someone who's been pissing you off, gaining a shocked reaction from everyone. You can change from avoiding conflicts to slamming into the center of it by mentality fluctuations you could gain over time.���💣

Let's Learn and Grow Together!💋💅

With Love-Yashi ❤⚡

(Here's a GIF I liked sm lol 😭😂)

Moon in houses part 2 here! ✨

MASTERLIST💖

[mellosdrawings]

I need to know!!

I have no idea if you've already done this but I need to know what Jamil and Kalim's dynamic is in the 10 years in the future thing. How is Kalim doing? Did he get married? To who? What is he up to?

Than you!

(Jamil's phone background pic)

KALIM! Oh dear, I have a lot to say.

First I'm gonna tackle the marriage status subject. I... actually don't ship Kalim with many other characters so I haven't bothered to think about a potential partner. I know the Ruggie/Kalim/Silver is a popular ship or something. Just imagine whoever you want with him, I'll leave that side of the story to your imagination.

Now, for his overall situation! Here's how I see it:

After a handful of years learning under his father, Kalim became the head of House Asim while his father enjoyed early retirement. One of his first decisions was, if not to completely free his servants, then at least to offer them more freedom (that's how Jamil still managed to secure himself some holidays to spend with Leona and Vil). That's also how Najma ended up being able to aim for college and study both tradings and politics. After Jamil leaves to be with his now husbands, Kalim revises his close circle of advisors/investors/whatever other powerful people he'd have by his side, and asks Najma to become his advisor.

Not bodyguard. Not servant. Not food taster. Advisor.

Because he knows he still tends to be too kind or thoughtless and he needs someone as ruthless as Jamil at his side. Jamil has left, so he asks Najma who is studying precisely for the things he needs. She happily accepts.

As for Kalim and Jamil's relationship, it was still tense for years after NRC. They both tried to make their relationship better but their situation wasn't helping at all. Once Jamil was gone with his husbands though, it became better fast. The power imbalance gone and Kalim treating Jamil's family very fairly, even giving such a high position to Najma, they managed to talk things out and start their friendship anew.

Kalim still regularly calls Jamil for advices, so does Najma since he has a lot more experience with Kalim. With Jamil's new status as Ambassador, he's also often in contact with Kalim for events or future deals between House Asim and Sunset Savanna.

The first few times they reunited after Jamil left, it was very awkward. Kalim wasn't sure how to act with Jamil anymore, if he even wanted to talk to him at all or have a drink together or hug it out. And Jamil had a hard time transitioning from servant to prince, so seeing Kalim again made him mentally backtrack several times. Eventually though they worked it out. When either of them is invited by the other, they first spend an awfully long time just hugging until they are both satisfied. They regularly spend time just the two of them to drink and catch up, gossip about whatever latest nonsense happened in their respective palaces, play Mancala, etc etc

When they have to part ways they hug for just as long. Eventually everyone gets used to it and adds a good fifteen minutes to the plannings so those two can take their time.

[jimblejamblewritings]

love letters and second sons | part 1.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The Bridgerton girlies have got me. Congratulations to you all. So before you read this, please read: I Hate Accidents by @i-hate-accidents AND Over The Garden Wall by @homeofthepeculiar AND The Ultimate Deception by @maximoff-pan. These stories are some of my favorites and really inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Author's Note: To those who have read my other works, you'll notice that the author Mercutio's stories are something special

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

I am pleased to welcome you all to the start of another social season. Of course, people love and look for love all year round but each year the season just seems to invite love to blossom. I hope all of you find the match to your souls. Marriage is a business but can it not have love as well? A business built with love surely must be a business that tries to last. I ask our respectful citizens and subjects of the United Kingdom to make love a part of their search. 

I would also like to ask about businesses that do not involve marriage or love. How are you? In the business of health, is everyone safe from all sickness? In the business of finance, does everyone have enough to eat and clothe themselves without falling into poverty? Are businesses afloat even if only by a small margin? How are you? Truly, I want to know. If you would like to write to me, please do so. The royal mailboxes should still be in perfect condition. 

Of course, if you have something urgent then I am sorry but you must come to the palace and request an audience. My valets hold all letters for a day or a few out of safety for everyone. But rest assured, I read every letter once received. 

I would also like to say that I can feel the winds of the ton calling me to grace their presence and to stop being rude by ignoring them. Naturally, the wind is very rude to say this and then cut through my dress and chill my bones even when it is snowing. But I digress, the wind is right. The time for introduction must be soon. And a lovely time that will be. I cannot wait to meet you all. 

Yours truly, 

A Not So Young Anymore Youngest Princess Y/N Hanover (Truly, I need a proper surname and not just the name of my father’s house)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

Would you like to know what I have learned yesterday? I know the Americas are still a touchy subject for some but I hope you don’t mind me talking about it, just to share my studies. Philadelphia is the center of American debate. So many great men (and women that have probably gone unnamed but aided their counterparts in their quest of education) have lived and are currently still living there. 

Going to America simply for a debate sounds terribly dreadful. But what if we had one here that wasn’t relegated to just the universities. An entire city becoming a center of debate seems incredibly foolish, not to mention disruptive to its current residents, but buildings of debate do not seem like a bad idea. 

Even if some feel like they aren’t smart enough, they should participate. Ideas are nurtured by sharing them. May some debates lead to great compromise and understanding and maybe even propositions for laws. 

I, for one, debate with my father every day on which science is the most important to teach to young children and which science can wait until university should they like to pursue that path. He believes all of it. I believe that medicinal science is too much for a young mind and they only need to be taught how to mind their health until they can understand better. What do you think? I am delighted to hear your opinions. Maybe mine will be swayed. 

Yours Truly,

Youngest Princess Y/N Buckingham (I am trying out new surnames until one I like sticks)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

I apologize if my stance may be radical but nothing in society ever got done if the start wasn’t a little radical. I believe that young women should be properly taught about relations… let me just say it, sex. Not when they are children, no, but when they are about to debut. Consider it. You all know that as a royal, despite being a woman, I have been taught all things. Everyone is aware that I know what sex is. But if I and my sisters were taught sex so that we may be aware of malicious advances and be able to protect our virtue first rather than waiting for our virtues to be saved by someone and risk them being too late, then others should as well. Therefore, I implore all mothers and governesses to teach their young ladies about to debut what sex is. And to fathers who may be without wives, please find any woman to teach your daughters.

I shall return with more radical ideas for a better and more prosperous United Kingdom. 

Yours truly, 

Youngest Princes Y/N Kew 

The printed letters delivered to London, had everyone enthralled in the early morning. Some people that lived close enough to the central town square didn’t bother with the prints and went straight to the wooden pin board there to look at the princess’ handwriting on the original letters. Whenever the Young Princess or the author Mercutio Quick wrote, people stopped and paid attention. 

Princess Y/N was the people’s princess. The one who listened to their complaints and wasn’t cheap on her charitable acts. She was so much like her father, Farmer George. Even with his illness he still ran a good country… when he was in charge. So much better than her eldest brother, George IV. Then again, any royal sibling was better than their eldest brother, even if only by a very small percentage. Everyday the public hoped another child would challenge George the Younger. They would rally their support behind them. 

They were hoping that any day George IV’s daughter, Charlotte, would have an heir. If she was pregnant then it would be so easy for the public to support her and convince either George IV to step down or convince Parliament to present a motion to King George. They would have a ruler and an heir. Charlotte the Younger would be the easiest transition for George IV to understand.

But neither her father nor husband seemed to care about the lack of heir. But the thought of succession and coups and duels was forgotten for a moment to read the Young Princess’ letters welcoming them to the new social season with new balls, debutantes, and drama. 

In the Bridgerton house, the family ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were trying to get ready to present Daphne to the Queen while also trying to read the Young Princess’ letters. Benedict laughed as he slapped his copy of the letters. 

“Mother would have a fit if she had to speak with Daphne about sex.” 

“I’m surprised she would even suggest such a thing,” Colin said as he returned to reading the first letter, thinking he might actually write to the Young Princess about his familial concerns and wanting to travel desperately but being unsure about leaving them. 

Eloise finally smiled as she came downstairs with the rest of her siblings. “I for one think it’s rather refreshing. She is right. Our mamas should be teaching us more than just how to meet the Queen… Daphne! You must make haste! Do you think she heard me?” 

Colin rolled his eyes. “She most certainly did. But on the matter of the princess, what is wrong with a woman’s husband teaching her about sex?” 

“Everything is wrong with that.” 

“Hmm.” 

He looked down to reread the paper, wondering if he could understand what the princess actually meant. Even though the letters were left at home, talk of the princess never ceased. How could it? The monarchy’s youngest princess might actually be joining them. Everyone wanted to know what she would look like, not in the face of course. Even her fourth brother didn’t take off his mask until after five months of being introduced to society and he was the shortest time it took to see the royal children’s face. 

“Do you think she will be tall like her eldest sister or short? Plump?” Eloise asked as their carriages started their way towards the palace. “I’d imagine I’d be very lovely and plump if I could be stuck in a palace all day with the most wonderful food imaginable. Not that anyone should ever value a woman based on her body but Penelope has stated that her sisters are terribly upset because all the dress makers have started saying that plump is going to be in fashion once again in only a few years time and by the time they become plump it’ll be out of fashion again.” 

Daphne looked out the window. “I wonder if she’ll look like the Queen or the King. Oh, what makeup do you think she’ll wear? What mask did she have created for herself? When do you think we’ll actually see her face?” 

Violet touched the knees of all her girls. “Whatever she is like, do not be rude and gawk. The poor thing will already have the vultures’ eyes on her all night. If she even comes out tonight. Perhaps it will be at a ball this week. That would be quite a fantastic introduction. I do hope she at least meets us this season.” 

Francesca smiled. “I imagine her dance card would be quite full.” 

“She’d have bracelets of dance cards going up to her arm,” Daphne agreed.  

“But she isn’t coming into society yet. She’s just introducing herself to us,” Eloise said. 

“She’s still a princess royal. A very well-known one at that. There’s no way the men would pass on an opportunity to dance with her. They’d want to start making their intentions known now, get ahead of everyone else.” 

The boys’ carriage was speaking of a different matter entirely. The princess and Mercutio had written to the ton at the same time. With the presentation to the Queen taking up so much of the day, most people wouldn’t be able to read his work until later that evening. Colin and Benedict simply couldn’t wait. Colin sat with his brother as he drove the carriage and read the story out loud: 

“Arsehole,” Cecilia muttered. 

Ignoring the sharp stinging of her backside, she hopped off the bed to find something to put on. All she needed to accomplish was getting back to her room, clothed. She knew there must have been some spare clothes in their dressers. It was just a matter of sorting through which garments were hers and which belonged to the others. She had been sorely mistaken to ignore the three members of nobility behind her, thinking they hadn’t heard her. 

Lovell scrunched up his face, resembling a rat. “Is receiving another punishment something you really care for? Because this attitude you’ve acquired is going to earn you one.” 

“Piss off.” 

“Is that any way to talk to your dominants?” Madison asked, adjusting herself in Tommy’s arms. 

Cecilia scoffed as she walked towards the door, placing one hand on the doorknob. “Lavender.” 

The other three faces fell at the use of that forbidden word. Cecilia’s hand reached up ever so gently and wiped away tears. She wondered if the tears were for her former lovers or for finally realizing her mind was deluded to think she would be with anyone above her station such as Lovell. 

“I don’t want this anymore.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“You never believe that I don’t enjoy breaking our established rules. You only listen to Madison.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“It is clear you both like her more than you desire me. I am down.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“You shall see me around this manor, doing my job as I always have. But that is the extent of our relationship.” 

“Please, just give u—” 

“Good day, Lord Parham. Lord Newall, Lady Wilcher.” 

“Riveting,” Colin said as he finished reading. “Mr. Mercutio has done it again.” 

Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has. I was a bit worried when he announced that he wanted to dabble in the themes of erotic pleasures in his stories but this was just as enjoyable as all the others.”

“Agree… Oh, it says here that they have earned a publishing deal. The penny stories will still come out once a week, chapter by chapter but readers can also purchase a book if they would like to keep the story properly or are in a rush to read it. I for one will be buying the books.” 

“I second that.” 

“I wonder what his next story will be about. Actually, no, I wonder what our dear sisters and mothers can be talking about.” 

“The princess, no doubt.”

”Do you think any of our brothers will approach?” Eloise asked in the women’s carriage, more to herself than anything. 

That made Hyacinth’s face light up. “If one of them marries the princess does that mean we get to be princesses too?” 

“As if any of our brothers even could or want to.” Francesca pulled her face away from the window.

“If anyone is going to bring them to the marriage mart,” Daphne started as she fanned herself. “It would be the princess. Anthony would be a good match for her.” 

Violet laughed, thinking of the idea. “A viscount and a princess are a perfect match.” 

All talk of the princess stopped as they approached. The worst thing that could happen could be a footman overhearing them and mistaking their speech for malicious gossip rather than light-natured and report it to the princess or the queen or even worse, King George himself. They would forever be ostracized from society. 

From upstairs, you watched from a window where you knew no one could see you even if they looked up. How you desperately wanted to be down there. All the men were dressed up and looking like penguins. Handsome they were but still penguin-like in silhouette. And the women’s dresses. Some, while upper class, were of a lower social standing and wore older dresses that looked just as gorgeous as the empire and rather shapeless dresses of today. 

But today was not your day. You actually weren’t sure when your day would be. Your mother and father let their children choose when they would be introduced to society. Of course you all had to wait for a certain age and it had to be a date at the start of the social season but you could pick the day. And unlike your last sibling, you wanted it to be at a ball instead of the selection of the Diamonds. You didn’t even care which ball it would be. Perhaps it was selfish but you did want a day all to yourself or at least a day with you as the main focus. But that wasn’t this year. Or any year perhaps. 

You were excited to finally leave the walls of the palace if you were allowed, having proven yourself capable of not causing an incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say you had proven yourself without illness. You weren’t that lucky. You and all your siblings were locked inside until the royal physicians could observe and confirm that you weren’t sick with whatever madness your father had. They didn’t have to observe you. That was also why you picked a ball instead of today. You wanted to prove you didn’t need a chaperone literally holding your elbow. You wanted freedom like your siblings. Freedom to explore that you weren’t sure would get because of your illness. 

After a nearly fatal drowning in the lake — an event your siblings still get chewed out for at least once a month — you started showing symptoms like George did. For you it wasn’t about if you would be as sick like your father. It was about how bad and how quickly the illness would get. 

You didn’t get to see George as often as the others. The doctors thought you shouldn’t be around him for prolonged periods of time unless it was after an episode. They thought that too much exposure would make you more like him instead of better. They wanted to send him to Kew but you promised that you wouldn’t go to his quarters as long as he got to stay at Buckingham. 

Charlotte, silly as it may have been, had hope. They caught your sickness early. Nine was a very young age to almost go mad. Maybe you could be saved from a cruel fate unlike George. They were too late for him but not for you. Of course this only brought jealousy from your siblings who didn’t feel like they got as much affection anymore. Every time you even twitched, it became about you. They could never hate you. It wasn’t like you asked to be sick. But it was hard to be around you. Everyday visits became once a week. Still, you cherished those visits. Like the one yesterday. They expressed their sympathies and hopefulness that you would get to introduce yourself and maybe it could even be this year or maybe this month. 

You could have scoffed. After what you did just two days ago, you were unsure. The daylight came into your room before you were prepared for it and you had been convinced that Buckingham was on fire. You couldn’t be calmed down until you jumped into the water fully clothed. Immediately, you pulled yourself out of the trance but no one really cared. The royal physician had been called anyway and you had ruined all chances of attending the presentation to the Queen. 

“Your Highness!” a voice disturbed your thoughts and your eyes from looking at your siblings’ carriages leave in the morning. Your lady-in-waiting approached you with a paper, an entire pamphlet. “It’s already spread through the ton like a fire. We haven’t read it yet. We figured new literature would be a treat for you.” 

“Thank you, Pandora. Shall we read it in the kitchens this morning when we return home?” 

“Not your room?” 

“I’m so terribly sick of my room and the washroom and the balcony and the bedroom.” 

“You are getting restless.” 

“It’s only a matter of time. Maybe even tomorrow it’ll happen. And soon it will only be a couple of years at most before the mask is gone. By the way,” you said as the two started to leave. “Did you hear about the Feather girl that fainted? Is she alright?” 

“Oh yes, she’s fine.” 

“Good. Have someone send flowers to her tomorrow with an inquiry about her wellbeing after taking such a tumble. Oh and no flowers to the Diamond. I want to meet her myself one day. Now, let’s read about this… Lady Whistledown. She already sounds like an interesting woman.” 

Interesting it was indeed. The maids and kitchen staff hung onto your every word as you read the pamphlet. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the pamphlet yet but Pandora was right about one thing. It was literature. Lady Whistledown seemed bold enough to list subjects by name. By their entire name as if she wasn’t afraid of any repercussions. You supposed she wouldn’t be since Whistledown was obviously not her real name. 

It wasn’t the subject of what she published that bothered you. A lot of it was standard gossip that goes around during the social season but it was her personal opinion. She almost seemed to want the ladies she wrote about to have miserable ends like inquiring about Daphne Bridergton’s flame burning out quickly. The lady must know that what she published could ruin a reputation. Gossip is no longer gossip when publicly written down. It has the potential to become fact. 

You slapped the pamphlet against your hand. “Well, I suppose Mercutio Quick from York will no longer be the entertainment of the ton. Sad, and right as I earned a publishing deal too. Perhaps, I should take up a different art. Like making dresses for all my days or learning to play the harp and cello properly so it sounds better than a dying whale according to my brothers.” 

The cook shook his head. “Your stories are very entertaining. Even Lady Whistledown couldn’t stop that.” 

“Thank you for saying that. I am rather jealous that she is penning under a woman.” 

“But you have chosen a name based on your favorite characters, have you not?” 

“I have but maybe I should’ve chosen better. This Lady Whistledown might be making more change for women then I hope to accomplish.” 

At this, the staff scoffed. Pandora cleaned up your dishes from the kitchen island in front of you. 

“Your Highness, with the utmost respect, you are the one who is going to do more for women than this Whistledown. Everybody already wants someone other than your kind brother on the throne. They’re all praying your niece gives them any child so they may protest for her with the added benefit of an heir. They love her and what you write about in your letters make her seem even better. Hell, they love you and they don’t even know you. They listen to you. And with your words, Princess Charlotte the Younger will be on the throne and you will prove women are more than capable of whatever and we might have real change. Is she still on board?” 

“Yes. She hates her father as much as anyone else does. George is nice once you get to know him… sort of. But Lettie approves as long as I agree to be in her court. I said yes of course.” 

“Then it is settled. Thank God we might actually get change in our wretched lives. Now you must wash up and oversee the Bridgerton gowns before they are sent off. Shall we pick certain ones from your wardrobe?” 

“Give the Diamond the one with lace and her family’s colors. Pick whatever you want for the rest of them. Oh and patterns must be on the Feather mother’s dress. I noticed she wears the most ill-favored ornamented dresses but she seems to like them. And put in an order with the modiste, I should like to do this often if this first gesture goes well and the gift wardrobe will need more clothes than it has at present. Clothes for the lower classes as well, nothing that could get them attacked and the clothes stolen off their bodies.” 

“Yes, Your Highness.”  

“And, by the way, I already washed up.” 

“Yes, but now you’ve been sitting amongst smoke and smells.” 

You gave up your fight and nodded as you jumped down from your stool and began the walk to your room. No one was around today. They wouldn’t be for most of the social season as they had other duties, including watching your siblings. Despite your madness, you weren’t the biggest concern at all. It was your rakish brothers in brothels, your sisters constantly leaving their husbands or suitors, and all of them sneaking away. You paused for a moment before walking quicker until you reached your room. 

Why couldn’t you sneak out? Now would be the perfect opportunity. And no one was looking for you. It would be so easy to scale the vines up the garden wall and just have fun for a moment. You washed up quickly and put on a very simple dress — one more like the style of today rather than your father’s time. Grabbing a cloak and your mask, you put them down on the bed before sitting down at your writing desk to pen a letter. The slam of the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. You calmed as you realized it was just Pandora. 

“Oh, good. It is just you.” 

“I have the Bridgerton and Featherington dresses but what do you mean it is just me, Y/N?” 

You stood up, abandoning the letter now that someone was around. “I am going out to see the ton.” 

“What?” 

“It is still dark. I have a map, my cloak, and the mask. And I have a very clear destination with vehicles that will get me back in the most discreet of ways should I need to use them.” 

“Your Highness.” 

“Pandora. I am nearing my introduction to society. You will all have to let me go at some point. I know everyone cares for my wellbeing but my happiness is gone. I am seen as nothing but my illness. Before I have an episode in public like the king, let me meet the ton. Let me not be Farmer Y/N for a brief moment of my life before I am a farmer forever, before I stay in that garden just like Father.” 

Pandora’s mouth shut. She simply locked the door and unlocked the window. “You must return before your midmorning promenade and snack. Since you ate downstairs, I can convince them to overlook your absence of a breakfast request. And don’t take your mask. It’s better if they don’t know who you are at all.” 

She gasped as you hugged her. 

“Thank you, Pandora! Thank you! You are truly the bestest friend a woman could have.” 

“Just go so you can come back quickly and I can have my sanity back.” 

You closed the window, shocking Pandora as you pulled a picture frame off the wall to reveal a staircase that led outside. The door was hidden behind the trellis covered in vines and flowers. You pulled the hood over the cloak over you. The last thing you did was check for your bracelet and if your papers were inside. Until you were introduced to society, all the royal children had bracelets that couldn’t come off unless cut off. There were just in case measures with the eldest two but became necessary after so many nights sneaking out. The bracelet wasn’t going anywhere but you didn’t want to lose your birth certificate. It was your first safety measure. Even if you were kidnapped or harmed, you’d be returned to the palace for a pretty penny. You did pull your sleeves down so your bracelet wouldn’t be noticed.  

You couldn’t contain your smile at the excitement of being out. London was so different without all the noise. The brothels and pubs were starting to close down for their few hours of rest and relaxation. You stuck to streets where you could see all the action but wouldn’t be easily spotted. No one bothered you until you arrived at your destination. 

The footman stood to attention. “May I help you?” 

“Yes, hello. I bring a package from Buckingham House for the Bridgertons, courtesy of Princess Y/N.” You handed him a letter with your official stamp at the end of it. 

The footman’s eyes went wide as he handed you back the letter and ran inside. The Bridgertons looked up at the frantic knocking, pulling slips over Hyacinth and Daphne before telling the footman he could enter. The Bridgerton boys came upstairs after hearing the heavy pounding of their employee’s footsteps running up the multiple stairs. 

“Is there a problem, Marshall?” 

He panted before taking in a deep breath. “The Young Princess’ lady-in-waiting is here, bearing gifts.” 

“WHAT?!” 

The Bridgertons collectively yelled before the scramble happened. You tilted your head when you saw the windows open and a maid shake out some bedsheets. She squeaked when she looked down to see you. You laughed as she ran back inside. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you were escorted into the house by a very out of breath footman. The Bridgertons stood on the steps at the end of their entrance hall in chronological order with their mother starting the line at the very bottom step. Nervous smiles graced their faces when you finally reached them. You curtsied to which they curtsied or bowed back. 

You gave them a second to assess you before speaking. Even though it wasn’t true in the slightest, everyone thought the ladies-in-waiting and manservants were reflections of the royals themselves. Not in character or value but in appearance. They figured they could form some sort of picture as to what the young masked royals looked like. If you were ugly then surely the princess was too. You hoped they at least found you to be average looking in appearance. 

Anthony Bridgerton — the new head of house from what you remembered of your studies — stepped from behind his mother to greet you formally. He bowed once again, deeper, before offering up his hand. You settled yours in it to receive a chaste kiss. 

“To what do we owe this sudden pleasure, Mrs…” 

“Beckett,” you lied, just using Pandora’s last name. 

“Mrs. Beckett?” He didn’t recognize the name as one belonging to an upper class member of the ton. He wasn’t sure he recognized the name at all. 

“Apologies, I should explain. The princess doesn’t distinguish in her court, we are all there to work. All women are ladies-in-waitings, all men are valets. Regardless of station, regardless of marriage.” 

“So, I am to take it that my earlier statement was incorrect.” 

You nodded. “Simply Miss Beckett.” 

“Well that sounds like very forward thinking actually. All the same, it is our pleasure to meet anyone in her highness’ court.” 

Violet smiled as she watched the interaction. If her son was close to anyone in the princess’ court, especially someone that seemed so close to the princess as to be sent here, then he would be able to meet the princess with good graces. He’d be ahead of any man by leagues. 

“Princess Y/N has sent me on her behalf. She extends warm greetings to the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons whom I will meet after our encounter. The princess congratulates Miss Daphne Bridgerton for earning Diamond of the Season as well as congratulations to the Dowager Viscountess for raising such a fine woman and to Viscount Bridgerton for chaperoning and keeping the family together therefore allowing his sister to shine.” 

He cleared his throat and started to smile. “Please give the princess all of our thanks for the most kind of compliments.” 

“And she would like to assure Miss Bridgerton that I have not been sent on behalf of any princes. Her brothers will not be bothering you today.” 

They all chuckled when you laughed. 

You set the first box down on the table next to you and opened it. “The princess has brought new dresses for the ball. The Diamond and the rest of her family should have the opportunity to shine with the utmost and wholehearted respect and support of the Crown. Please, enjoy them.” 

The family ran to the table, picking out dresses and suits and matching them to the person’s name on the paper pinned to each garment. They kept singing praises and admiring the outfits. Violet turned back to you. 

“When are you planning on visiting the Featheringtons?” 

“In an hour or so, I must be back before the princess’ morning promenade. She has a very busy day afterwards.” 

“Will the princess be introducing herself this season?” 

“Hyacinth!” Anthony and Violet yelled at the same time. 

You laughed. “It is no trouble. I’m at liberty to answer as the princess’ head valet.” 

“Valet? I thought you said they were all men. They are usually all men.” 

“If the princess should become heir to the throne then she will receive a male valet alongside me. For now, it is just me. The Crown believes someone of the same gender should always be with her should she need to confide in someone about very personal matters.” You took a breath before testing the waters. “Such as affections of the heart.” 

It had dawned on you in that moment that you could spy on the ton. When the time came, you would still have to dance with all the bachelors of the United Kingdom but you at least you would have a better picture of them. You’d have to apologize to Pandora for the countless strokes she was about to earn from you but you couldn’t make this your only time sneaking out.  

Violet smiled, knowing she was right. “Well, would you like to stay for breakfast?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“It would be no trouble at all. We have more than enough room. Eloise, dear, if Penelope is to come over please request that she do so now.”

(part 2)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

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[tibby-art]

i am straight up on my hands and knees BEGGING for more hitman au

crazy that you mention that actually because i did write another snippet a little while ago.. here’s a doodle i did to accompany it + the writing under the cut

=+=

Grian gazed out the window of the bus, soaking in the quiet evening of the city. It had been some time since he was out in public like this, since he had felt like a normal citizen going about her daily buisness. It was nice to be outside the NHO headquarters for once, free to do what she pleased. Well, sort of.

Grian wasn’t exactly free. He was allowed some free time out when there was no training, lab visits, or missions. However, she was only allowed outside the NHO with a bodyguard. Someone who could both protect him from the overstimulation of the outside world, as well as protect others from her… if he were to ever lose control of his powers, or something.

Yes, riding the bus with a former-criminal-turned-professional-hitman certainly made the whole experience feel less normal for Grian.

“It’s nice to take public transportation once in a while,” Scar mused, stretching his arms over his head. “Us vexes don’t get to do that much anymore, when we can just fly around wherever we need to go.”

“That must be so much better, though,” Grian pointed out. “You can fly wherever you want, and you don’t even have to pay the bus fare.”

“Let me tell you, Grian, flying can be so tiring,” Scar huffed. “Sometimes I’m so tired by the time we show up to a hit, we need to take a breather on the roof for a few minutes. The NHO should just let us have a car for the long missions, for goodness’ sake!”

Grian did a quick check of his surroundings. The bus was pretty empty this time of day, but she got no sense that any of the passengers were paying attention to Scar so casually talking about being a hitman. A brief tap into watcher vision didn’t show any movement from the passengers behind her, either.

“Cub’s in much better shape than me,” Scar rambled on. “Did you know that man was a professional basketball player once? Or was it golf…? Actually, I think it was both.”

The NHO didn’t deem it too urgent to send both their prized hitmen on Grian-watching duty, so Cub had stayed behind at the headquarters. Last time Grian had seen Cub, he was showing off a ring of keys to Scar, saying how he was going to get a lot of ‘research’ done that night.

“What are those keys for?” Grian asked.

“Don’t know yet,” Cub shrugged. “That’s part of the fun”.

“So… those aren’t your keys?”

Cub and Scar just grinned at her.

“….This is our stop,” Grian said.

The pair exited the bus. The Hermit City library stood before them.

“Library, huh?” Scar asked. “Do you have some overdue books from before you became a watcher or something?”

“Not so loud,” Grian scolded, glancing around a mostly empty city street. “But, no. Speaking of… that, I wanted to see if there were any books I could find on the subject.”

Scar raised an eyebrow. “Do you think a public library would have better information than what we have at the NHO?”

Grian shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

The library was pretty empty at this time of day. In fact, they probably closed in an hour or so. Grian had deliberately chosen a time of day where less people would be around, so that the trip was less overwhelming on his new senses. Scar had complained that he wasn’t a morning person, so they settled on the evening instead. Grian secretly was also glad she could sleep in a little.

“Geez, when’s the last time I’ve been in one of these?” Scar muttered, glancing at the countless shelves of books as they walked past.

“What, are you allergic to reading?” Grian teased.

“Well, I am dyslexic, so… sort of?”

Grian realized that for a trip to the library to do some research, she probably should have gotten Cub to come. The man literally has two science degrees, after all.

The two made their way to the front desk, where the librarian on duty appeared to be preoccupied… knitting a hand puppet of some kind?

“Well howdy there!” The librarian looked up from his work cheerfully. He had long, brown hair that was dyed neon green at the tips, matching perfectly with her pointed green glasses. “What can I help y’all with?”

“Uh, yes, um.” Grian tapped his fingers on the desk. “We were wondering if you had any books on Watchers, and where they might be?”

“Watchers, huh…” The librarian furrowed their brow. “Now that’s an obscure topic.” He swiveled his chair towards his computer to investigate further. Grian began to grow anxious with how obvious he felt they were being.

“I know, right?” Scar sighed, leaning on the desk casually. “It’s for some lame group project that’s like, a fourth of our final grade in the class.”

“Yikes! That sounds rough,” The librarian remarked as she typed on the computer. Grian tapped into his sixth sense and didn’t pick up on any feelings of suspicion from the librarian. Maybe bringing Scar was a good idea.

“Okay, well, most of these books that are coming up seem to be more on the… fantasy side,” The librarian explained after a moment of scrolling. “I know those guys are mythological beings, but you said you’re doing a research project, so I’m guessing you want something more factual…”

“Yeah, anything with information about where they came from, what they do, stuff like that.” Grian nodded. “Y’know, like if they were real.”

“Oh! Here’s something promising.” The librarian turned the monitor so that Grian and Scar could see. “This book right here seems to be a study of the tales of Watchers throughout history. Although… it looks like our only copy is checked out at the moment.”

“Really?” Grian asked. “By who?”

The librarian blinked. “Hm… y’know, I’m actually not sure if I’m supposed to like, give that information to people? Like, legally?”

“There’s another person in our group project, so we just want to know if they beat us to checking out this book,” Scar lied. “Communication in group projects, am I right?”

“Pff, yeah, that makes sense,” The librarian turned the computer back to face him. “It looks like this book is currently being borrowed by a Martyn. With a y! How fancy.”

“Ah, Martyn with a y, of course!” Scar exclaimed. “Well, now we know that Martyn has the book, right Grian?”

“Yup,” Grian agreed, mind racing.

“Hey, actually…” The librarian scrolled down on the computer some more. “You guys sure got the right person for this project. It looks like this Martyn fella has been checking this book out for a few months now?”

Grian’s eyes widened.

“Ohh, that Martyn,” Scar laughed. “Always getting the head start on things! Uh, did we need anything else, Grian?”

“Um…” Grian needed to think fast. Whoever this Martyn person was, he’s been checking the same book on Watchers out for months. Surely he has to know something about them. Grian had to speak to him. But how on earth were they going to find this person?

Grian focused on the back of the librarian’s computer monitor. For a brief moment, in her mind’s eye, he could see the content of computer screen, from the librarian’s eyes. There on the screen was a full name: Martyn Littlewood.

“Nope, that’s all,” Grian replied, blinking rapidly as he returned to his own vision.

“Great. Well, you two have a good one!” The librarian said cheerfully, and returned to their knitting.

Grian and Scar briskly made their way outside.

“Wow. So who’s this Martyn guy? I didn’t think anyone else cared about Watchers that much,” Scar began, turning to Grian. “Oh uh, Grian, you’ve got something there…” Scar pointed to his own nose, looking worried all of a sudden.

“Huh?” Grian wiped his nose on his sleeve instinctively, expecting snot. However, when he glanced at his arm he saw red.

“Ah.” At least her sweater was already red.

“What did you do in there?” Scar asked, his green eyes intense with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“I was able to get a better look at that computer, and see the guy’s last name,” Grian explained. “Martyn Littlewood. Whoever he is, he might have a ton of information about Watchers. I’ve got to find him and have a word with him.”

“Grian, you’re amazing!” Scar exclaimed, impressed. “Well, finding someone in this city should be easy enough for a Watcher.”

“Shush,” Grian glanced around the empty bus stop. “Or we could try, y’know, looking the name up online first…” Grian quickly pulled out her phone. “Ah. Found him.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

“Oh my god, Scar.”

“What?”

“Scar.” Grian held the phone out. “Martyn Littlewood is…”

“A youtuber?” Scar’s jaw dropped as he scrolled through the list of videos. “And he makes videos talking about-“

“Watchers.”

Scar stared at Grian, dumbfounded.

“Scar, I think we just found the world’s biggest, and perhaps only, Watcher fanatic,” Grian stated in disbelief. “And he lives right here in Hermit City.”

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity| Jisung

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

You had always admired Han's loving spirit and his ability to find inspiration in the smallest things. He brought light into your life in ways you never thought possible. And he helped you see the world in a way most didn't. You loved that you had that in common with Han- an appreciation for things that breathed life into your creative works.

You had never been very good at drawing. Or writing. Or anything having to do with the fine arts. Rather your creativity came more in a problem solving way. But in order to connect with Jisung, you decided to take up sketching to connect with Han a little more, because you loved him.

But that just created a deep-rooted insecurity about your creative abilities. Surrounded by so many talented people - as you were around the kids -you often felt your own contributions paled in comparison, and it was a fear you kept to yourself.

One evening, Han was over at your place, working on some new lyrics while you attempted to write poetry. He was sprawled on the couch, notebook in hand, humming a melody under his breath. You sat at your desk, scribbling down words and then erasing them feeling increasingly frustrated with your lack of progress.

You had long given up drawing, and you thought it might be easier to write a poem, since it was words that described your feelings. You could easily write a poem about something you knew well right? It couldn't be that hard.

You scratched your head as you tried to think of rhymes.

"How's it going over there?" Han asked, glancing up from his notebook.

"Not great," you mumbled, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

Han chuckled, not noticing your tone. "I figured."

His casual comment felt like a sting, a reminder of your perceived inadequacies. You forced a smile and nodded, but inside, you felt your confidence crumbling.

He got up and walked over to you, picking up your paper in his hands. He chuckled. "Poetry now huh?"

You felt your cheeks burn and tried to take it from him. "No-"

"No jagiya I want to read it." He said holding it above your head and reading it. "You make me laugh when I am sad, Your jokes are the best I've ever had. When you smile, my heart feels light, You make everything so bright." Han giggled again. "It's like one of those poems we had to write in elementary school."

That made your cheeks burn even more. "Jisung give it back-"

"Your hugs are warm, your eyes so kind, With you, I leave my worries behind. You're my sunshine, my best friend, With you, I hope the good times never end." He gives you a cute pouty face in a teasing manner. "Awww Y/N... it's such a cute little poem. It's like a little nursery rhyme."

"Jisung stop!" You called out again, feeling your eyes burn as you put your fists to your eyes, the embarrassment you had taking over.

"I know my poem's not that great, But loving you is my favorite fate. Thank you Jisung..." His smile fell and he swallowed. "Thank you...Jisung for...for being you. My love for you is always true." He looked up and seemed to realize what he was teasing you about and his lip trembled. "Y/N-"

"I want to be alone." You mumbled through your tears. Jisung wanted to reach out, but he knew he had hurt your feelings, but knowing you he also knew you needed space.

The next few days were a blur of self-doubt and creative blocks. You avoided drawing and writing, and found excuses to stay busy with other tasks. Han noticed your change in behavior and even if you guys had talked a couple hours after the incident, he still didn't think his apology was enough.

One afternoon, while you were both working on a puzzle together, Han brought up the subject again. "Hey, you know I'm really really sorry right?"

You nodded. "I know. I'm not mad anymore, Jisung."

Han frowned. "But you haven't been writing at all. Or drawing...I feel like it's my fault. No...I know it's my fault. I'm sorry I made fun of your poem- I loved it. I really did. It's the sweetest thing anyone has ever written me..."

You felt a pang in your chest, wishing you could believe him. "Thanks, but sometimes it feels like I'm just not good enough."

Han looked taken aback. "What do you mean? You're incredibly talented."

You sighed, finally letting out a bit of your frustration. "It's just… I see how talented everyone else is, including you, and I can't help but feel like my work doesn't measure up."

Han's expression softened, and he reached out to squeeze your hand. "You're amazing in your own right, and comparing yourself to others isn't fair to you. I wouldn't ever want you to compare yourself to me. That's like comparing a doctor to an actor. Both are genius in their own right, but do you expect an actor to be able to perform surgery like a doctor? Or the doctor to recite the entire second act of Hamlet? You have your talents that I could never even begin to measure up to, Y/N. Its the same with everyone who walks this planet..."

His words were kind, but they didn't fully reach the core of your insecurity. You forced a smile and nodded, hoping the conversation would end there.

A week later, Han invited himself over to your house, hoping to put an end to both of your guy's misery. You hated feeling like you had to walk on eggshells around him, and he hated thinking he was making you uncomfortable.

You guys ate dinner and started watching a drama. After the fourth episode Han pressed the pause button.

"Baby...can I show you something?"

You nodded, slightly confused as to why Jisung would pause your binge.

He grabbed his laptop from his bag and came back towards you, placing his headphones on your head.

He unlocked his laptop, clicked a few buttons and a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyes widened.

"Did you guys wrtie a new song?" You asked excitedly, but Jisung shushed you gently and motioned for you to listen.

You closed your eyes and let yourself go, embracing the music fully.

You felt your heart almost stop when you heard the words of your poem masterfully intricated into the song.

"Why did you show me that?" you asked, your voice trembling. You didn't dare open your eyes, or you were sure the tears you had would fall.

Han sounded puzzled. "Because it's great and I wanted to share it."

"But it's not great," you snapped, tears falling from your eyes as you opened them. "People will know you just used those words. You're so much more well versed and-"

Han stopped in his tracks, realization dawning on him. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I just wanted to show them how talented you are.” You shook your head.

"Ouch, Y/N..." Jisung chuckled, his voice breaking a little. You looked at Han, whose chubby cheeks were encompassed by his pout. His boba eyes sad.

"No- No baby I meant... I feel like my words are stupid. Not your voice. Your song was absolutely beautiful... I just feel like I made you waste such a good backtrack."

You wiped away a tear, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "It's not your fault. It's just… I can't help but feel like I'll never be as good as everyone else. And I feel like you did that to make me feel better..."

Han pulled you into a tight hug, his voice gentle and soothing. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You're incredibly talented and creative, and your art is a reflection of who you are. It's unique and beautiful, just like you."

You clung to him, the sincerity in his words slowly breaking through your walls. "I just want to feel like I'm enough," you whispered.

Han held you at arm's length, looking into your eyes. "You are more than enough. Your worth isn't defined by how perfect your art or writing is or how you compare to others. It's about the passion and love you put into what you do."

His words resonated with you, and you felt a sense of comfort and reassurance. Han's unwavering support and belief in you made a difference, and you realized that your insecurities didn't define you.

"And I didn't make that song to make you feel better...I made it so you could see just how much inspiration I find from you. Y/N I love you more than anything. So, I was over the moon when I wrote this. And even more elated when I got to use the words the love of my life wrote. That's only the demo..." He grins sheepishly. "I was thinking...it would sound cool if you could leave that poem as a voicemail. I could make it the outro of the song..."

You looked at him with wide eyes. "You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it baby. I mean... I know Stay speculates I'm in a relationship...it's been a year now so I feel like this would be a fun way of confirming that. And I want the world to hear the beautiful voice of my baby." He coos, squishing your cheeks.

You giggle and nod, as Han peppers kisses all over your face.

One evening, as you both sat on the couch, Han handed you a sketchbook he had bought for you. "I got this for you. I want you to fill it with whatever makes you happy. No pressure, just pure creativity. It doesn't even have to be art. Maybe you could write me more poems..."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you, Ji. For everything."

Han wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. "I'm always here for you. And for inspiration. Because you're my inspiration." He says nuzzling his nose against yours.

You leaned into him, feeling a sense of peace and contentment.

His inspiration. You thought.

What an amazing thing to be...

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel

[purpleph4se]

million dollar man

the wizard x reader

warnings | smut (sorry), fem!reader, soft dom!wizard, fingering, praise, age difference, he’s also definitely a bit of a pervert (i’m self indulgent ok)

a/n | last fic of the year so let me go out with a bang. yall i am so so obsessed with the wizard I've gone down the jeff goldblum pipeline i love him so much. he’s so lana del rey coded it’s kinda insane. so i decided to be the first person (?) to write smut for the fuckin wizard of oz (i cant believe i wrote this sentence) so to anyone who also enjoys the wizard who reads this you thank you so much! crossposted on my ao3

“sir! i have a message for you from madam morrible, i believe it's urgent!”

you were the wizard's own personal assistant. one of the very few people who saw who he truly was; an older, but still very handsome, man who operated the magical console that controlled the giant puppet used to control his subjects. in truth, he was very kind and gracious, even silly at times.

“oh! thank you, my dear.” he gracefully strolled over to you in his beautifully elaborate emerald suit and took the letter from your hands and slipped it into his coat pocket, he paused for a moment to look over you. you could feel his honey-colored eyes scanning your frame and felt your heart race, you shifted in place hoping he wouldn’t notice your nervousness. with his endless power, you guessed he already knew.

“it’s—it’s my pleasure, your ozness! is there anything else you require of me?” the wizard lets out a laugh, soft and elegant, just like him you thought. he grabs your hand, his large aged one completely envelops yours as he takes you to his control panel. your face flushes and your hand trembles in his, you pray he doesn’t notice. how embarrassing it would be if the wizard thought you were this easily swayed by just one touch. in actuality, he thought it was adorable.

“you’re still so formal with me hm? but dear, i do need you for just one thing, if you don’t mind that is?” he had this mischievous look in his eyes, his charming smile making the corners of his eyes wrinkle, you couldn’t help the warmth rising more in your cheeks.

you nodded a bit too quickly for your own liking, “yes! um—of course, i don’t mind, sir!”

the wizard smiles, and the butterflies in your stomach flutter rapidly as he turns you to face the control panel as he stands behind you. even though you’re not facing him you tremble as you can feel how close he is to your back, the soft waft of his cologne and his breath upon the back of your neck. oh sweet oz, you felt yourself get impossibly warmer like you could combust at any moment.

“now dear, i just want your opinion on something,” he reached over you, turned, and pulled a few levers on the console, you heard the familiar creaking and mechanics of the puppet he controlled. “you see when i operate this thing, i just feel like there should be a way to hm, be more—how do i put this…less imposing?” the wizard rambles off about how he would like to still use the figure as he feels that his people need it but he doesn’t want to seem as feared anymore, especially in situations when it’s not needed.

you hang on every word, more focused on how his voice graced your ears, how the great and powerful wizard was asking you for advice, how you can feel his every movement behind you, and oh he felt so warm. you shudder as you feel him press his chest against your back as he reaches for a different lever, it seems that he noticed as he paused his ramblings for a second.

“are you alright, my dear?”

you gasp, stumbling over your words as you hear him quietly speak his concern over you. the wizard was worried he made his poor little assistant uncomfortable and he wouldn’t want that. but you eventually manage to tell him that you’re ok, hoping he doesn’t pull away from you.

he knows exactly what he’s doing, he's so keenly aware of what his magnificent presence does to others, especially you. he continues his ramblings, moving different levers and speaking softly into your ear. he knows the effect he has on you, but he revels in how easy it is to make flustered in particular, how cute you look trying to hide yourself reliving the warmth between your thighs.

you feel the wizard bring his large hand to your waist, and you try your hardest not to melt into his touch. but when he speaks in that low tone, his deep honied voice so close to your ear, you shake in his hold, letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. you never would have thought the wizard would ever be this close to you. he has you right in the palm of his hand.

“you’re shaking sweetheart, if you want me to stop you just have to say the word.”

you pause for a moment, your breath leaving your lips shakily. this—this was wrong, you cared very deeply for the wizard maybe more than you should, and you were eternally grateful to work under him. your attention comes back to him as he teasingly squeezes your hips with his hand. he thought you were just too cute to not tease. your thighs press together again trying to relieve the evergrowing pool of heat.

“please—please don’t stop, your ozness—“

“i was hoping you would say that, dearest”

his hand glides over your uniform, and you feel him smile devilishly, even though you don’t dare turn your neck to check. “i’m quite fond of you, you know? you’re such a sweet little assistant and i think you deserve a reward no?” the wizard coos into your ear, his touches pressing insistently deeper, like he’s desperate to feel your skin under your clothes.

your head feels so fuzzy with the attention he’s giving you, you can’t think straight so you nod dumbly at his question. with the way he’s making you feel now, it could certainly be called a reward. people would die to be in your position. his hand trails downward, tugging at the hem of the green pencil skirt you decided to wear today. your heart nearly beats out of your chest.

“i just adore this skirt on you, dear, but it does get in the way of what i’m trying to do here,“ he chuckles, hes so close you can feel his chest rumbling when he laughs. you tremble in his grasp as he pulls your skirt up, exposing your clothed cunt to him and you feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. you knew this was wrong, but you ached for his touch. sweet oz what has gotten into you?

“shh—let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

you could feel your breath begin to quicken and the pulse between your legs grow stronger. this was not good. but you melt into him when he trails his hand up your thigh, pressing yourself closer to his chest. his hand climbs higher up your thigh, you feel him breathe out a laugh at your flustered state once his hand hovers over the heat between your legs.

“tell me you want this, my dear…”

he croons softly into your ear, he hasn’t even touched you yet and you are already blissed out. his facial hair brushes over your skin, tickling your neck as his lips graze the tender skin that lies just beneath your earlobe. you stammer indistinctly, pawing at his other arm now wrapped around your waist while your eyes train towards the ceiling. you felt dizzy.

the wizard's teeth scrape your skin, they sink into the curve of your throat. his elegant fingers press into your panties, stroking down the cloaked hood of your clit, rolling over the bud through thin, sticky cotton. your body jumps, chasing that feeling, and goosebumps rise on your skin as he begins to pull away.

“wait! i-i want it,” you plead, chasing the feeling of his hands with a strained whine. “please—your ozness” you were shocked at the desperation in your own voice. but sensing his lips curl into a smile against your neck you realized he reveled in it.

your hips bucked reaching for his touch again, he shifted just enough to push his fingertips beneath the elastic. he chuckled softly, "would’ve never thought a sweet thing like you would be so needy." he chided. he plunged his hand down and slipped it over your vulva, cupping and pressing against you.

your hips jolted at the pressure and a soft gasp escaped your lips. "is this what you wanted, dearest?" his deep voice was at your ear again, curling around your senses, filling your mind with heavy fog. barely able to make out a response for him you nod dumbly relishing in the pleasure the wizard gave you.

"hm?" a finger slipped down between your folds, "you’re so wet, sweetheart" he purred. his fingers slowly began to stroke down to your entrance and back up to circle your clit in a meticulous pattern. his fingers, wet with your slick, circled your clit just a touch faster. pleasure is coursing through you, as more little moans leave your lips, but you grow embarrassed at the noise coming out of you that you press your lips together.

“no, no we can’t have that honey, let me hear those pretty little noises, hm?”

and you couldn’t help but obey him. soft moans began to slip through your lips. "oh, you’re just so adorable." the wizard sighed. the tension in your limbs slowly melted away until you were a soft and pliant thing for him. pleas slurred off your tongue when he placed more pressure on your clit, stroking tight, precise patterns that had you dripping for him.

you moaned as his fingers moved down to pet at your wetness, two fingers brushing against your entrance but not pressing in. he pressed against your cunt firmly as your hips slowly began to grind down.

"yeah? you want my fingers to make you feel good, hm?" his fingertips probed your entrance, teasing you. a soft cry escaped you, your hips trembling in need. a flurry of pleas escaped you and the wizard shushed you gently, taking pity on your pathetic state. he took his time slipping his fingers inside and pressing them firmly against your walls as they squeezed around him.

"there you go, this is what you needed, hm?" he cooed, almost talking down to you. he began peppering delicate kisses over your ears and neck, slowly pumping his fingers in and out. “does me teasing you always get you this wet?” and you couldn’t help but admit to him, simply nodding. oh, and he just couldn’t help but indulge in your confession. you were nothing like the pretty young things he used to mess around with back in nebraska, you were full of pure devotion just for him.

"feels good doesn’t it?" he began curling his fingers just enough to stimulate your g-spot but not enough to send you keening into mindless pleasure. "or do you need more?" your mouth fell open as breathing became too much for you while you nodded furiously.

"yes—please—" you let your head tip back into him, your hands grabbing at the emerald-clad arm around your waist, a feeble attempt to ground yourself to reality, "sir—" you whined quietly.

your whine morphed into a cry as he curled up his experienced fingers finding that sweet spot of stimulation inside of you and positively abusing it. all you could do was whine and shake in his hands. "look at you," he muttered into your ear. "messy little thing aren’t you, sweetheart?" his fingers quickened in pace as his palm began nudging just right against your abandoned clit.

the wizard's words were lost to you, with your mouth hanging open ever so slightly you nodded and tried your best not to cum too quickly. the obscene sound of his fingers fucking into you and the sound of his palm slapping against your clit echo throughout the control room. that combined with your growing moans and his husky breathing was overloading your senses in the best way possible.

"i’ve been wanting to see you like this for a while," he purred, slowly pressing his palm against your clit a little harder. “since you started wearing these adorably tight skirts." he purposely pulled you tighter against him so you could feel him hard against your lower back, "you feel that? that’s all your fault, honey." his voice sounded strained, all you could sob was his name, begging him to take you right then and there.

the wizard chuckled at your state, and at the feeling of your cunt tightening around his fingers more and more. "that close already, hm?" he pulled away from your neck as your head turned to meet his hazel eyes, yours heavy and glazed as you nodded. "aw dearest," he cooed, "that won't do, i need to hear you” a whimper and buck of your hips was your response.

he tsked, "that won't do." his free hand came up to grab your face and held it there, looking into your eyes. "be good and say 'please' and i’ll let you finish all over my fingers." he had a stern but flushed look to him as he spoke, seeing the wizard flustered pulled your pleasure filled mind out of the haze for a moment of coherency.

"pl—please..." was all you could muster up as the edge he kept you on turned your pleasure into pain. he released your face, grinding his palm hard and slow against your clit. and you swore to oz you almost came right then and there as you cried out. "please—oh-p-please, your ozness let me finish—" you whined and squirmed in his arms as you tried to chase after your own pleasure to no avail.

he pressed his lips against your neck again and you felt him grin devilishly as his fingers pace picked back up. “such a good little assistant.” the wizard began fucking you again with just his two fingers, pulling embarrassing noises from your throat and each thrust of his soaked digits in your cunt. it was obscene the way you writhed in his hold, the way your hips humped into each pull and push of his hand. “so so good for me,” he cooed, pressing soft kisses against your throat, a stark contrast to how his fingers were moving inside of you.

each pass of his fingers over that sensitive patch inside of you produced the most delicious moans from your lips, and with every brush of his palm against your clit your legs shook more and more. “just like that honey,” his lips brushed against your ear. “i’m making you feel good, yeah? your sweet little cunt belongs to me.”

your body jerked with pleasure at the wizard's words, as his free hand pressed down holding you against him, “ah-h–your o-ozness” you cried out. he let out a soft groan against your neck at the way your hips involuntarily bucked with pleasure delightfully pressing against the tent in his pants.

“let go for me.” oh, the deep timbre of his voice had taken hold of your mind and pulled you deeper into a pleasure-filled stupor. you couldn’t think of anything but the pulsing of your walls around his long fingers. with a cry, his hands and voice alone he coaxed your climax out of you, his fingertips abusing your poor g-spot until you couldn’t take anymore. your thighs clamped around on his hand, while your hips jerked with each almost painful throb of your cunt around his fingers.

you could even feel your heartbeat in your now oversensitive clit, your hips involuntarily overstimulating you as they met each stroke of his fingers fucking into you. “oh—oh sir, wait—“ your voice shuddered as his hand slowed.

“pent up weren’t you?” the wizard cooed, retracting his fingers and tracing his thumb from your slick entrance and up to your clit and back down again. mindlessly running his fingers through your slit as you whined, trying to pull away from the overstimulation.

“sorry dearest, you’re just so adorable i couldn’t help myself,” he chuckles against your throat, finally pulling his fingers from your panties. his slick fingers coming up to slip past your lips, your tongue quickly sucking down your own juices, he couldn’t help but marvel at your need and he thought for a moment about how lucky he was to have you.

“honey, do you think you can help me with one more thing?” you’re reminded of his own need pressed against your lower back, and you were more than happy to help your wonderful wizard.