#but you have to mildly attempt to attract the people that will like you

[freckledsweetpea]

the way that the vast majority of fat queer men are so fucking hot because they still wear nice clothes and groom their hair and beards and are nice and fully accept being fat makes them hot and not resentful to all of society because they're fat and instead want the people that want them.

and then there's the vast majority of fat straight men...like my guys. pull yourself together. take notes from the fat queer men of this world. and especially stop being mad at fat women.

[reiderwriter]

ACK I'm so excited that your requests are open again! Um okay, this one feels a bit silly but I'd love a fic where fem!bau!reader is really attracted to Spencer and the way that he smells? (I just KNOW that man smells like cinnamon and a Scholastic Book Fair.) Like, she's been doing a good job hiding her crush from the team, until Spencer catches her eyes dilating at him when he's standing close. And he's an oblivious king, so he's trying to figure out why they were dilated. If it could be race blind like my last request, and from Spencer's POV, that'd be great. (Or split POV, if you'd rather). I really see this as fluff, but if you want to include angst or smut go right on ahead! Thank you for reading my request! Your writing makes my day.

-❤️‍🩹

A/N: This was so fun and silly, and I love writing awkward, puppy love Spencer because sometimes you just have to let yourself become mildly infatuated with a coworker. For the plot. Or at least character development. I hope you like this one!!

Warnings: none.

Masterlist

You thought you'd settled into work well in your first few weeks as a member of the BAU. You thought you were up to speed about everything going on in the office. There was just one mystery left to solve.

“Where is that smell coming from?” You whispered to yourself, frustratedly sniffing the air for the second day in a row as you attempted to locate the warm, delightful smell that seemed to follow you whenever you were in the office.

“Could be one of Garcia's scented candles. They tend to linger,” JJ said from her corner of the bull pen.

“No, I checked earlier and she said they made her throw those out weeks ago.”

Honestly, it was not knowing that was driving you insane. If you knew what the smell was, you could bottle it, spray it all around yourself, and wrap yourself in it like a little blanket. It somehow reminded you of home and of the public library you'd spent much of your childhood in.

After another day of being able to figure out whoever had bought the scent version of the Scholastic Book Fair mixed with homemade cinnamon buns, you gave up. 12 hours of paperwork, and you were just as excited to get away from the sight of brown folders as ever, and as everyone else in the bureau, evidently.

Grabbing your bag, you got in the line for the elevators alongside your team.

“Ready for the crush?” Derek said, punching Spencer Reid on the arm as they waited ahead of you.

“Ow,” the younger man muttered and you tried to hold your giggles back, rolling your eyes as you watched them in amusement.

Derek’s words were true, though. Every day at home time, the elevators packed up quickly, and being on the middle floor meant that it could often take a while for the elevator to come back to you. You swore it was half the reason Hotch stayed late most nights, just to avoid the crush of the trip home.

“I've been taking the DC public transport since I got this job. You think the elevators are bad. Try 8 am subway on a Monday morning.”

The doors opened, and the three of you climbed into the barely there space of the elevator. With a quick side step, you found yourself against the left wall of the elevator. But to your shock, the scent you'd been searching for for three weeks didn't dissipate as it usually did when you got on the elevator.

It was here. The source of the scent was here.

You tried to stay calm as it grew more potent, tried not to frantically look around searching for whatever man or woman was perfumed in heaven. The doors opened again, and more people squeezed in, and suddenly, you found yourself buried nose-first in whatever sensory heaven existed here on earth.

“Sorry,” you heard a mumble in front of you as Spencer held his hand against the wall above your head, trying to keep a polite enough distance so as not to squish you any further. Your mismatching heights, however, led to your face being just about level with his neck.

You really weren't trying to smell him, but you had to inhale, and each time you did, it was a sensory overload.

It was him. Dear God, it was him.

The proximity and his scent really weren't helping your brain stop short circuiting in that moment, and you had to remind yourself after a minute or two or three that you were staring.

Though evidently Spencer had already noticed, and was looking at you with some concern.

“Are you okay? It's pretty tight in here, but I can try and move back if you're uncomfortable.”

“No! No, it's okay,” you did your best not to shout the words out, suddenly wanting his smell and his body close forever.

You hadn't been looking before, but like a freight train at maximum speed, the weight of his attractiveness hit you all at once. There was a slight stubble peppering his jaw, his hair hanging slightly loose, eyes big, and brown, and beautiful. He was tall, and you knew he was strong from watching him manhandle unsubs each week.

To put it blankly, you spiralled. Hard. Straight into infatuation and attraction, and you felt your head growing light with the tipsy feeling of a girlish crush.

You were fucked.

Spencer was concerned about you for the next week.

For starters, he knew that most new hires pushed themselves to the extreme over the first month and ended up quickly burnt out, mentally and physically. He may not have the best physical stamina, but he knew the lengths he had to go to to maintain his mental and physical wellness while working the job.

Which was why he started looking out for you a bit more. Every time he looked at you, you were staring off into space, somewhere just past him, or around him, face glazed over.

He wondered if you had a fever a few times, subtly touching your forehead - wiping away some sweat or a strand of hair - to feel you, and you did always feel hot.

You insisted you were fine though. But the nervous panic, and the constant insistence made him wary enough to pull you aside one day and ask you straight to your face.

��Do you need something?” He said, having unassumingly lured you off to the meeting room without arousing suspicions.

“What? What do you mean?” You said, instantly defensive. You'd hoped you hadn't been as creepy as you knew you had and that he hadn't caught on to your stolen glances and sudden close proximity.

You really couldn't help it. The man smelt too fucking good.

“If you're feeling sick, no one is going to think any less of you for taking a half day, you know.”

His voice was so gentle, you almost didn't die from sheer embarrassment. Almost.

“Oh! Oh, oh no, I'm fine, I'm totally healthy. As a cow!”

“A cow?”

“Yes, I'm as healthy as your average farm animal. Can I go back to work?”

You made to leave, but he grabbed your wrist gently as you brushed past him, and it was like sparks travelled up your arm and pierced your heart directly.

“Spencer!?” you squeaked.

“Your heart rate is elevated, and you feel hot and clammy,” he said, which was exactly the kind of compliment you were aiming to receive from men you were falling for. “You should go see a doctor and then get some rest.”

“No, Spencer, that's not-”

“Everyone pushes themselves in these first few weeks. I had to take a week off after two days in the field from the weight of holding a gun up for so long, which is more embarrassing than it sounds, and Derek-”

“What cologne do you use?” you snapped, desperately hoping to both shut him up and also detangle yourself from this situation with at least one win under your belt. If you found out whatever the smell was he used, you could buy it, grow accustomed to it, and grow out of whatever phase you were going through before you out your job in jeopardy.

“What?”

“You smell… really good. I was wondering what cologne it is.”

“I don't… I don't really use cologne.”

You baulked, unable to stop your face from dropping as your dreams of detaching yourself from your little crush on Spencer Reid faded before your very eyes.

“Shower gel? Shampoo maybe?”

“They're both unscented.”

“So you just… you just smell like that naturally?”

It was his turn to flush then, though the panic never left your head fully.

“Sorry, is it… distracting.”

“Yes,” you whispered, but with such an exhausted exhale, it sounded like a dreamt sigh. You wanted to kick yourself. You wanted to open his jacket, step inside, bury your face in his chest, and fall asleep.

“I see.”

“Mhmm.”

A minute passed in awkward silence, and you wanted to kick yourself for blurting everything out. Quickly turning to leave again, you wished so dearly to erase the last five minutes of your life, sending up enough hail mary’s to absolve you of any sin.

“Lavender. And sometimes patchouli,” he called from behind you as you took your first steps to the door.

“Hmm?” you said, turning back around against your better judgment.

“What?”

“That's what you smell like,” he explained, hands suddenly very preoccupied with his jacket buttons. “I'm not great with scents, but you also smell… nice. Sorry, that was weird.”

“No, not at-”

“You know, the major histocompatibility complex genes are important for the immune system and appear to play a role in sexual attraction via body odour. Studies have shown that body odour is strongly connected with attraction in heterosexual females.”

“Oh. I didn't know that…”

“Do you want to grab dinner with me?”

The words almost knocked you back into the door, as sudden as they were. Had he just asked you on a date? Or was it a friendly coworker thing? A friendly coworker thing where he acknowledged your attraction to his scent and then invited you out on a date.

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Yes, I would like to get dinner with you.”

He did his best to suppress the smile, and you tried hard as well, though neither of you succeeded.

“Great, perfect,” he said, circling you as he made his way to the door, his eyes always turned to you no matter what. He likely regretted that as he bumped into first the edge of a table, then a chair, and then hitting the door with his back, but in your state of puppy love, you didn't care.

“It's a date,” he said, opening the door and walking away, cheeks flushed with heat.

[heartseungs-archive]

can we love? | l.dh

word count: 2.5k | genre: best friend! haechan, f2l, 90% of this is just fluff honestly | warnings: none

The phone buzzes repeatedly on the table, begging you to answer it. However, you avert your glance from its place on the table determinedly, turning your eyes back to your computer screen. Your lecture notes sit in front of you, untouched since an hour ago, a mug of coffee cold on the table.

The phone starts vibrating again, and you are starting to find it mildly annoying. “Not so different from the caller himself,” you huff. The mention of the pink-haired boy causes him to immediately surface in your head, and you groan. You’re sure he’s one of the most persistent people you’ve met, and while it’s usually endearing, this time it’s for the entirely wrong reason.

The loud ringing of your doorbell serves to jolt you out of your temporary daydream, and you close your laptop, sighing. Not much studying will be done today, if any at all. “Coming!” You exclaim absentmindedly, sock-padded feet thudding gently along the hallway.

The sight that greets you at your doorstep, however, has you quickly attempting to slam it shut. “Nope, not you. I’m not taking any visitors today,” you say, as you hastily step back and attempt to retreat back into the safety of your home. You curse yourself for not even thinking before you opened the door.

Unfortunately, Lee Donghyuck is faster and stronger than you, and it’s a futile attempt to slam the door shut in his face. Still, you attempt to block his way at the door, in a last-ditch effort to halt the intruder. As if he hasn’t been over to your apartment a dozen times, you think. Shut up, Y/N. Is your brain’s next reply.

“You must be excited to see me. This is the fastest you’ve opened the door,” Donghyuck says, mirth in his eyes.

The both of you still haven’t moved from the position at your doorway, and with your hands on your hips, you almost look like a petulant child.

“I’m busy, Donghyuck. What do you want?”

“You.”

“Stop joking around. I don’t have the energy for this,” you bite, narrowing your eyes. The tone of your voice comes out cold, and you don’t miss his slight flinch. An apology is ready to leave your mouth, but you immediately bite your tongue, remembering why, exactly, you have to act this way.

“I meant it, by the way. Exams are over, Y/N. I want to know why you’ve been ignoring every single one of my messages since last Friday.”

Donghyuck is rightfully concerned, of course. The both of you message multiple times throughout the day, and see each other even more, to the point where your friends think you are attached to the hip. Donghyuck and Y/N. Y/N and Donghyuck. It seems to roll off the tongue naturally even for you.

Of course, that was before you realised the weight of your massive crush on your best friend, kindly pointed out by Karina. In her words, you ‘looked at him like he was your sun and everything revolved around him’. She hadn’t even batted an eyelid when she had dumped the bucket of cold water over you.

Cue two sleepless nights and going entirely offline for a week, and you were left where you were now.

“I was…preoccupied,” you stutter, and to be fair, you were. With trying to internalize your attraction to Donghyuck, but you don’t mention that part to him.

“So preoccupied that you couldn’t message your best friend once?” Donghyuck takes a step closer to you, and you instinctively back away until your lower back meets the cold marble of your countertop.

Yet, he keeps coming closer, and you can feel your heartbeat desperately trying to keep up with its panicked pace.

“You know, you look down at your feet when you lie.”

Your eyes widen and you immediately look up, only to be met with Donghyuck’s face inches away from your own. Up close, you can see the sun-kissed freckles that dot his face, and your shocked expression reflected in his eyes.

His eyes flood with fondness then, and your heart cracks, just a little bit. Your actions have hurt him, you realise. And Donghyuck is the last person you wish to hurt. For god’s sake, you’re head over heels for the boy.

“I…I’m sorry. I was just thinking about some things. And I needed some time alone. I didn’t mean to ignore you,” you breathe out, staring directly into Donghyuck’s doe-brown eyes. But you can only hold it for a few seconds before your cheeks redden. He’s still much too close for comfort.

Donghyuck smiles then, the corners of his mouth lifting up instead of the smirk he is so often used to. He grabs your hands gently, rubbing his thumbs over your palms, and you think your heart might just stop entirely.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Huh?” His hands are so warm, you think, and they seem to fit perfectly in yours. You’re not sure how you didn’t realise that earlier.

He laughs lowly under his breath, casting an amused gaze at you. “I said, what were you thinking about? Tell me what goes on inside that pretty head of yours, Y/N.”

Pretty. He called me pretty.

“Um…” your voice trails off. You’ve never been very good at impromptu, Donghyuck always being the more spontaneous one of you both. At every gathering, he’s the one cracking the jokes. In karaoke rooms, he’s the one singing his lungs out, while you clap and help to queue John Legend and Michael Jackson for him.

Despite his curiosity, Donghyuck understands that you’re not sure what to say, or not yet ready to say it, and is quick to interject. He’s always been quick that way, despite his teasing and flirting. And especially careful and observant when it comes to you, he thinks. Still, he wonders what dilemma caused you to withdraw from him for days.

“You know, you said you didn’t want anyone to disturb you before the exams and I thought that included me. So I stayed away because I thought you’d mind my presence. I know I can be quite distracting.” Donghyuck’s tone is playful, but there is also a silent question hidden within it, an underlying concern.

“I don’t.” Your voice comes out slightly faint, and Donghyuck leans imperceptibly closer.

“What did you say? I can’t hear you.” Now, he’s just teasing. Still, you give in to Donghyuck easily.

“I don’t mind. Your presence, I mean. Even before exams.” The words come out in a rush, and yet crystal-clear in the silence of the room. They settle into Donghyuck, radiating warmth, and he feels impossibly happy and relieved.

“Really?” It’s Donghyuck’s turn to be nervous now, and you can’t help but feel another surge of affection for him. You nod, and his smile turns even brighter. Just the smallest and simplest of your actions are enough to make him happy. Donghyuck wishes to tell you that, but he’s not sure if you would scoff at him for being dramatic again.

“So you won’t mind even if I come and pester you every day for hours? I can be very stubborn, you know.”

“No. I wouldn’t mind. You can come over whenever you wish. Only if you pay for delivery though.” Your banter with Donghyuck comes naturally, even as each of his actions flusters you more and more. He finally pulls away, and you watch him as he walks towards the kitchen. Air floods your lungs once again, and your heartbeat gradually slows down.

“Deal. To prove it, I’ll even cook ramyeon right now,” he states confidently, and you observe as Donghyuck moves from shelf to stove with ease. He already knows where everything is. He looks at home, you realize, and you’re not sure what to feel about that.

Donghyuck is your home too, you think. He’s the person you feel the most comfortable with, the one you seek out after a long day. Except for the past week, where you had to avoid him when confronted with the weight of your newly-discovered feelings.

Yet, you think you’ve loved Donghyuck for a long time. Even if that love blurred from platonic to romantic as you grew up. You’ll always love Donghyuck, because he is your sun, illuminating every crevice of your life. And existing with him standing in your tiny kitchen in his white t-shirt and sweatpants, feels as easy as breathing.

The aroma of ramyeon quickly fills your apartment, and Donghyuck grabs the cutlery to sit with you at the table. He blows gently on the spoon, before directing it towards you.

“Try it. Is it good?”

It’s just seasoning and water, and yet it’s the best thing you’ve ever had in your life. You nod, and Donghyuck’s face lights up. He begins scooping the ramen into your bowl first, and you watch his actions with a look of almost pure adoration.

It makes you want to let go for once, and not be scared. To be as brave as Donghyuck makes you feel.

“I like you.”

His hand stills, and Donghyuck grins. “I know you like me. Who doesn’t?” The casual tone of his voice almost makes you want to brush it off, but you gather up what remaining vestiges of bravery remain. If you don’t say this now, you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to do it again, friendship be damned.

“I don’t mean that, Donghyuck. I like you. A lot.”

You watch as he fumbles slightly with the spoon, quickly grabbing it from his hand before he can spill the broth on himself. “Careful,” you mutter lowly. The air feels thick with tension, and yet Donghyuck, who usually chatters your ear off, is dead silent.

You can feel your hands trembling slightly, and quickly hide them under the table. As much as you’re sure Donghyuck is still your best friend, the rejection is still a hard pill to swallow and stings its way down.

It seems like much more than a few seconds as the ceiling fan whirrs above gently, and smoke drifts up from the now rapidly-cooling pot of ramen.

Before you can change the topic to something else, however, your hands are engulfed by much warmer ones, and Donghyuck’s lips are on yours.

He’s gentle even now, almost as if you’re made of fragile glass. Donghyuck has a way of making the people around him feel treasured, almost as if you’re basking in his glow. Your hands unconsciously make their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his curls that have now faded to a light pink. You swear his breath hitches slightly when you do it, and that only makes you smile against his mouth.

When the both of you finally break away, your face is flushed a bright red, and you feel lightheaded. You’re not entirely sure if it’s from the temporary lack of air or the fact that Lee Donghyuck, your best friend of sixteen years, just kissed you.

He leans his forehead against yours, close enough to kiss him again, if you so wished.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Donghyuck murmurs. You avert your eyes from him then, not entirely sure how to reply. The past few moments were a haze, a blurry dream that you’re not entirely sure happened.

You bite your lip, worrying it, and don’t miss how Donghyuck’s eyes dart to them briefly.

“Was that…a yes?” Your question is a nervous one. You’re not entirely sure what else to say, especially when Donghyuck’s looking at you like that. Like you hang the moon and the stars in the sky and he is tempted to kiss you dizzy, until you forget your own name.

The boy in front of you rolls his eyes then. “Yes, Y/N. That was a yes, if you couldn’t figure out from the kiss.”

“Oh. So are we…”

“We’re dating now. You’re Y/N, my girlfriend. And I’m Donghyuck, your boyfriend. It’s that simple,” Donghyuck utters this with an effortless confidence that only he can have, and it causes you to break out into a smile.

“Okay.”

Donghyuck and Y/N. Y/N and Donghyuck. You suppose it sounds even better now that the label has shifted from friendship to romance.

“Now, will my girlfriend please eat the ramen that I put so much effort into? I can’t possibly let her go hungry,” Donghyuck complains, a familiar pout making its way onto his face. However, you’re so used to his antics that you barely bat an eyelash, instead silently acquiescing by taking a bite of ramen. Before you can place it into your mouth, however, Donghyuck leans over and places a gentle kiss on your cheek, and you narrowly avoid choking. Still, you think it’s something you could get used to, and little do you know, Donghyuck has the exact same sentiment.

The both of you pass the dinner in companionable silence, occasionally catching each other’s eyes. Donghyuck simply smirks, while the colour of your cheeks shift from pink to red, and back to pink again. Despite it being more difficult to eat, Donghyuck resolutely holds onto your hand, as if he’s scared he’ll never be able to do so again.

Finally, his attention drifts away from you and more towards the food, and you observe as he hungrily devours the ramen. His features are soft and rounded, eyes bright as he eats. Donghyuck’s elegant profile seems even more noticeable today, when he’s barefaced and in the simplest clothes known to man.

You meant it when you realised that along the way, Donghyuck had become a sort of refuge for you, away from the turbulence that was university life. Despite his endless pranks, he was also the first one to lend you his jacket in cold libraries, and the only one to recite your coffee order on early mornings.

Looking at him, the feeling is sweet, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. You make a mental note to thank Karina at some point, for everything she’s done and helped you to realise. For now, you are simply a sunflower basking in the warmth of your sun, and it’s all you need. 

[lambtotheslaughterr]

I Burn : Part Seven

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 3.7k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART SIX | MASTERLIST | PART EIGHT

note* reminder to new people on the taglist, to remain on a taglist, you have to interact with the work you want to be tagged in. that can be either commenting, reblogging, dropping an ask, or dming me to discuss your thoughts. taglist is a privelege, if you don't follow my rule about interacting you will be removed. this is my only warning. thank you!<3

            Today was a day of celebration. Siena had completed her 12 week program & she would be leaving tomorrow. As always is the case when a patient successfully completes their program, there is a going away party. You were mildly looking forward to it, an excuse to not think about all the shit going wrong in your life, but you weren’t looking forward to having to socialize amongst those who were not happy with you. Albert, namely.

            You got dressed a couple hours before the party. It had been a couple days since you practically busted his door down in search of comfort. And comfort he did give.

            He consoled you, talked with you through your fears & guilt, reassured you that the lawsuit was nothing you could have predicted therefore out of your control. It was not your fault John was choosing to sue your father. Dr. Mooney, like your mother, agreed that the likelihood of John winning was slim. He had eased your consciousness.

            After you went to bed that night, you realized that what Rafe had told you at the beach was bullshit. Of course, your mind was preoccupied with the news your mother brought you, but at some point in the midst of your talk with Dr. Mooney, you began to pay attention to him closer. There was no indication that he was attracted to you, nor possessive of you like Rafe suggested. There was genuine care behind his eyes, he kept an appropriate distance from you, & his words never lingered to anything that would clue you in to any sort of desire. Dr. Mooney was there to help you. Whatever Rafe interpreted that as was just that, an interpretation.

            And now, more than ever, Dr. Mooney was your only friend in the facility. After your blow up in group, there was no one other than him who smiled when you appeared or entertained small talk with you. Part of you still felt like shit about what you had said to Albert, but you couldn’t sit on it forever. You said what you said. There was nothing to do about it except apologize & hope for the best.

            It’s why you went to the party early. The lawn behind the building had been turned into a festivity. There were few tables with tablecloths, tables along the windows that peered into the group session room that held the food & drinks, none of which were alcoholic of course. And there were congratulation balloons billowing in the light breeze. You hoped to get to the party earlier in the hopes of talking to Albert. But after twenty minutes, you were still the only one there.

            Heading back inside, you intended to go looking for him, but as you were about to round a corner to head back to the youth wing, you walked abruptly into another.

            There was no hiding the sound of annoyance you made when your eyes met Rafe’s.

            “What’s your problem?” He questioned, matching your hostile energy.

            “Looking at it.” You glowered, attempting to bypass him, but Rafe was quick to snatch your elbow in his hand. You ripped your arm from his grip, rounding on him quickly, “Stay the fuck away from me.”

            Rafe’s eyes darkened at that. Before you could resist further, Rafe suddenly dragged you into the closest room, which also happened to be the group session room. You weren’t too worried about being trapped with him. After all, it was the middle of the day & everyone would be walking by the door any moment. You’d make this quick.

            “What the fuck.” You groaned, glaring at him as he tried to shut the door behind the both of you. But you threw your hand out to stop him, keeping the door open for anyone walking by to see in.

            “You’re avoiding me.” He stated.

            You blinked, cocking your head sassily, “Great observation. Now leave me alone.”

            “What’s your problem?”

            “You.” You seethed, stepping forward. “I’m done letting you fuck with my head.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” You poked his chest, “I may be fucked up in my own ways, but at least I don’t play with people’s heads & emotions, making them feel confused & scared.”

            Rafe rolled his eyes at that, unimpressed with your stance, “Scared? Don’t be such a little bitch.”

            Hot rage coursed your veins. You wasted no time in shoving him, “That’s what I mean!”

            A look of surprise flashed across his face at your gentle assault, & you wished you could revel in it, but you had other priorities that needed your attention. “You claim you’re looking out for me by telling me some bullshit about Dr. Mooney wanting me & now you’re calling me a bitch because I’m calling you out. You’re fucking twisted, dude.”

            A displeased smirk appeared on his face then, “Takes one to know one, right?”

            “Oh, fuck off.” You spit, “From now on, don’t talk to me, don’t look at me. I don’t even want to fucking hear your voice.”

            “Or what?” Rafe stood with his feet shoulder’s width apart, crossing his arms over his chest & tucking his hands under his armpits, “What are you gonna do, _____?”

            You didn’t crack in your facial expression, but you did stumble internally. What could you do? Nothing, really. But you needed Rafe to know that he wouldn’t get his sick amusement out of you anymore.

            Shaking your head, you made to leave, but Rafe slapped his hand on the door, slamming it shut, before shoving you against it & tightening his hold on one of your wrists to keep you from moving.

            “Not a damn thing.” He stared down at you, his voice low. “You’re helpless. Weak.”

            His words penetrated your skin, but you wouldn’t let them sink further.

            “No.” You shook your head, “You are. And you don’t like that I see you for the monster you are.”

            Rafe’s eyes flashed darkly then. It was your turn to smirk, “See? There you are.”

            Before you could react, Rafe harshly gripped your chin, shoving your head against the wood of the door, right before he claimed your mouth with his.

            You gasped into the aggressive kiss, your body regretfully lighting up at the action. You instinctively threw your hands up, placing them on his solid chest in an attempt to push him off, but Rafe wrapped his other arm around your waist, crushing his body against yours.

            The burning between your thighs returned with a vengeance. As much as you hated this guy, couldn’t trust him as far as you could threw him, & knew that he only viewed you as a toy to pass the time, you couldn’t deny how well your bodies meshed together. Like they were each other’s missing puzzle piece.

            Rafe growled into the kiss, the hand that was holding your chin, now kneading itself into the tresses of your hair at the nape of your neck. You sighed into his mouth, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

            Fuck this man. You battled with yourself. You knew how you felt about him, there was no more confusion about that. But fuck if your body didn’t still want his.

            He pulled away then, his eyes peering darkly into yours, “Your monster wants mine just as bad.”

            Your chest heaved as you bit your lip, torn between glaring at him angrily or jumping his bones. Never in your life have you hated your body more than now. You knew well-enough & understood the urge & desperate desire to fuck someone, but wanting to rip them to shreds at the same time was a new mixture that had your head dizzy.

            “When you’re done being scared, you know where to find me.” Rafe told you. Then he swiftly nicked his knuckle against your chin before exiting the room.

            Finally alone, you let out a heavy breath. You stayed there a moment longer to shake away the lingering sensation of his hands on your body. You needed a clear head. Regardless if what he said had some minor truth to it, you were determined to avoid him until it was your going away party. Double checking your hair & clothes were in place, you finally left the room, dreading how the rest of the day may go.

            Albert was inaccessible. About an hour into Siena’s party, & he had yet to stray away anywhere by himself. It was like he knew what you were wanting to do & was making it, so you’d have to apologize in front of everyone. But you had too much pride for that.

            Rafe left you alone, too. Much to your surprise, he was sitting with Renee. You wondered what a conversation between the two of them would be like, but you wouldn’t be going over to find out. You kept to yourself the whole time, constantly watching & waiting for an opportunity to get Albert alone. You were sitting by yourself at a table in the shade when the sound of glass clinking drew everyone’s attention.

            It was Dr. Mooney who stood near the tables of food & drinks.

            “As everyone knows, today is a pretty special day.” He began as he found Siena amongst the people with his eyes. There was a good mix of patients & faculty, about 30 people or so.

            “When Siena came to our facility, she had little hope about succeeding in her recovery. But all of us together with her have gotten her to a place where she feels confident & secure moving forward. And now, today, we celebrate her program coming to a close & going out into the world a new & healthier Siena Cortez.”

            People clapped & smiled, a few cheers here & there. You watched as Siena looked uncomfortable with the attention, but Albert was there next to her to shake her, helping her not feel awkward.

            “Siena,” Dr. Mooney smiled in her direction, “you have made myself, your family, your friends, & everyone here present very proud. You dedicated your time here to recovering &, dare I say, showed no struggle in the effort. You are a true example that one can get better as long as they believe in it.”

            She pursed her lips to hide her smile, but Albert knocked his hip into hers, forcing her smile to crack open. You found yourself smiling along with her. More so, you couldn’t wait for the day when it would be you standing in her shoes.

            “So, enjoy this party we put together for you. Say your goodbye’s, but know that when you leave here tomorrow, you have made a new family that believes in you every step of the way.”

            “Thank you, guys.” Siena mumbled, but everyone clapped.

            Dr. Mooney raised his glass of non-alcoholic champagne, “To Siena & her future.”

            You morosely raised your glass alongside everyone else before emptying the contents into your mouth.

            The music got turned up then & patients & faculty began to form a dance floor between the tables. Albert was in the midst of it all, dancing with Siena as she giggled happily to herself. You picked at your nails under the table, watching longingly as nearly everyone around you was enjoying themselves. If you hadn’t burned the bridges that others built to reach you, you’d be there in the middle with them.

            Growing upset with yourself, you were about to stand up & excuse yourself to the closest bathroom, but before you could, Dr. Mooney appeared across the table from you. He placed his empty glass on the table, before leaning forward, “Don’t you want to dance? It’s not often you guys get to have fun like this.”

            You shrugged, but tried to hide your discomfort with a smile, “I’m okay with just watching.”

            Dr. Mooney’s smile saddened at that. You inhaled sharply as you watched him sit down across from you. You really didn’t want one of his positive lectures right now, not in front of everyone. Not like anyone would really be paying attention, but still.

            “What’s going on, _____?”

            “Nothing!” You cringed at how forced you sounded. You cleared your voice, trying again, “Really, nothing. I’m okay.”

            He peered at you for a moment longer before glancing over his shoulder at the handful of people who were dancing. You followed his line of sight, your eyes falling onto Albert. As if he felt eyes watching him, Albert glancing your way as Siena spun him around. There was no hiding the hurtful look in his eyes before he focused his attention back to dancing with Siena.

            “You two haven’t spoken yet, I gather?”

            You sighed. There was no point in answering Dr. Mooney’s question. It was quite obvious.

            “Would you like me to get him for you?”

            Mortified at his suggestion, like he was a father trying to solve an issue between his kids, you jumped forward, “No, Dr. Mooney, please. It’s fine.”

            He nodded, “You’re adults. You’ll find it in yourselves to figure it out, I trust.”

            You certainly hoped so but knew you wouldn’t try very hard for very long.

            “Dr. Mooney.” Nurse Carney appeared, “Your wife is on the phone. She said she’s been trying to ring you.”

            “Oh.” Dr. Mooney patted himself down, frowning, “Must have left my phone in the office.”

            Nurse Carney smiled kindly, “She’s on hold at the front desk.”

            “Thank you, Kiera.” Dr. Mooney stood then, his eyes falling to you, “Try to have fun, okay?”

            You nodded. Nurse Carney followed behind him as they disappeared inside. Relieved at being alone yet again, you watched for only a moment as people around you mingled about & enjoyed the beautiful day. After a couple minutes of aimless staring, you remembered you were going to go to the bathroom for a short while. Just to get away.

            Throwing your paper plate of mostly untouched food into a nearby trash, you headed inside. The nearest bathroom would be on the other side of the main office. As you passed by the front desk, you noted that Dr. Mooney wasn’t there. Down the hallway behind the front desk, you noticed the door to his office was closed. You guessed he was taking the call from his wife there.

            Inside the bathroom, you splashed your face with water & put your hair up. You stared at yourself for some time. Looking yourself up & down, but not in appraisal. You imagined your near future. Maybe you’d go to college, make something of yourself. You pictured meeting someone handsome & kind. Someone who wouldn’t judge your past. Most of all, you hoped that your dad would look at you with love again, or at least something close to it. Attending Siena’s going away party had forced you to think & feel about the future. Your future. How you truly wanted to be better. For everyone & yourself.

            A knock on the door tore you away from your reverie. You sighed heavily before rolling your eyes. You also couldn’t wait to not live under the same roof as 20 other people.

            Swinging open the door, you were about to step out to let whoever was waiting in when you paused. Renee leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed with a knowing expression on her face.

            “Hey, Nympho.”

            You groaned, “What do you want?”

            She smiled coyly, responding to you in a sing-song tone, “I know something you don’t know.”

            You hardly interacted with Renee, but whenever you did, it was always filled with rigid tension.

            “I don’t care.” You replied in a sarcastic sing-song tone of your own.

            You passed by her, but she spoke up behind you, “I doubt that. But whatever. Your problem, not mine.”

            You stopped in your walk, rolling your eyes. You knew she was likely baiting you, but her quick dismissal of it did peak your curiosity.

            Turning around, you raised your eyebrows, “What? What is it?”

            Renee sighed dreamily, “Well, what with all the excitement & soaring feelings of hope flying around because of Siena’s party & watching you daydream out there, I just thought you should know yours won’t be for a long while.”

            Oh, so she was just being bitchy. You should’ve known. You were about to turn & walk away for a second time when Renne hollered out, “I can prove it to you.”

            “I’m not falling for it.” You tossed over your shoulder.

            “But Dr. Mooney is.”

            What? Halting, you glared at the ground. You heard as her footfalls grew closer until she was standing right in front of you.

            “What are you talking about?” You seethed.

            Renee grinned, “I’m talking about how I overheard your favorite doctor on the phone with your daddy. I only got one end of it, but it sounds like your dad is willing to pay Dr. Mooney more money under the table to keep you here, at least until he wins the lawsuit.”

            You wanted to call bullshit, & to claw her eyes out. But Renee was talking about things she would have no clue of. Grabbing her shoulders fiercely, you backed her into the nearest wall. You took brief pleasure in the shocked gasp that escaped her as her shoulders met the wall.

            “Jesus, calm down.” She shoved your arms off, “I thought it’d be a dream come true for you to stay here with your doctor.”

            “Shut up. Just tell me everything you know.”

            She glared at you but continued nonetheless, “Just look at his notes, everything you’ll need to know will be there.”

            His notes? “His notepad?”

            “Uh, doy.” Renee rolled her eyes, “The one he carries everywhere for group session & one-on-one.”

            “How do you fucking know that it’d be on there?” You were growing angrier. Though you couldn’t deny there was some merit to what she was saying, why the hell would Dr. Mooney keep any kind of info like that on his notepad?

            “Dr. Mooney isn’t as smart as he thinks he is.” Renee claimed, “I read it every now & then. It’s how I know more about your issues than I should. About everyone’s.”

            “You’re lying.” You pushed her again & her eyes widened in fury.

            “Why would I fucking lie?” She argued.

            Why would she really, you reasoned with yourself. You & Renee didn’t get along, but even this would be a new low for her. Besides, what would be in it for her anyways?

            “Show me.” You gestured your head towards the back hallway. “Now, Renee.”

            “Ugh, god, whatever.” With that, Renee pushed off from the wall & rounded the front desk, heading down the center hallway of the building where Dr Mooney’s office was. Following closely behind Renee, you could faintly make out the sounds of the party outside. Everyone would be distracted. You & Renee would have time to get in, see for yourself what she was claiming, & then get out. But part of you hoped she was wrong. She had to be.

            Just a few feet away from Dr. Mooney’s office, Renee stopped in her track. She had her arms crossed over her chest, “Go ahead. I’ll be look out.”

            You wanted to argue with her, but knew that you wouldn’t have the time do get in & out like you wanted. So, you bypassed her & went straight for the door.

            Had you really taken a moment to think clearly about everything, you wouldn’t have found yourself turning the knob. If you had stopped to really question Renee & get details, you wouldn’t have opened the door. And if only you had just taken a moment to yourself before entering, really asking yourself if you needed answers in that exact second, you probably would have heard the commotion going on inside before you entered. But you weren’t the slow & patient kind of girl.

            “Oh, my god…” You couldn’t hide the gasp that came out of your mouth when you barely took an inch into the room.

            The two people before you yelped & scrambled to get dressed but it didn’t matter. You had seen everything you needed to see.

            “_____, what the hell are you doing?” Dr. Mooney demanded, but the authority in his voice was nothing compared to that of him struggling to get his pants back over his legs. All the while Nurse Carney pulled a dress on over her head & raked her fingers through her hair.

            You felt betrayed, violated. Not because you just walked in on Dr. Mooney fucking someone, but because you walked in on someone whom you trusted to be honest, good, & genuine. Yet there he was, fucking a woman who was not his wife. Fucking a woman who worked under him. Fucking in his office during a going away party for a patient of his.

            A new burning sensation fulfilled you then. Not the kind you were used to. You didn’t feel like tearing your clothes off & slipping your fingers into yourself. You felt absolute & unbridled fury. This man—this pathetic liar of a man—was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And he had fooled you most of all.

            You registered the look of guilt on both their faces. Nurse Carney as she tried to hide behind her hair, & Dr. Mooney, who tried to hide behind his status. But you saw him for what he was. A false mentor.

            Giving them both what you knew to be one of the gnarliest glares of judgement, you spun on your heel & stormed down the hallway. You didn’t miss the gleeful expression on Renee’s face as you bypassed her, & you couldn’t bother with it.

            You had little hope coming to this facility, especially because you truly didn’t think you had a problem to begin with. But Dr. Mooney opened your eyes. He listened to you, he didn’t judge you, he swore he cared about you. He gave you the hope you didn’t know you needed. You wanted to make him proud, prove to him that you were worth the time & effort. That you were someone worth believing in. You wanted to be just like him. But he was the one who let you down. He failed you, not the other way around.

            And he would regret it. That, you promised.

i don't know what ya'll are expecting but believe me when i say, you're not ready for what reader is about to do lmao.

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[liuhko]

Gold Digger

𝜗🤍 ݁ Nanami with an obnoxious, gold digging wife. Got this idea at 3AM (finished it at 5AM) and I can’t let it go to waste, especially with this rising interest in my man (nanami). This is a long one, so you're welcome!

Nanami wasn’t the richest man on the planet, but he was rich enough. You came across him at a restaurant after his failed blind date, you had been watching the ordeal from afar and noted the expensive dishes he allowed his date to order. Of course, that didn’t mean much but your gut told you to go after him, so you did.

Thank goodness you listened to your gut, you somehow managed to woo him and he eventually proposed to you. Now here you were, several years into a marriage built on support, trust, and financial stability.

Your relationship with Nanami started strangely but you did eventually fall in love, and that’s why he put a ring on it (kardashian level diamond ring). To him, you’re the cutest, silliest little financial parasite he’s ever known. No, but seriously you do love each other, you just so happen to care for his assets a bit more.

Nanami isn’t an idiot, he was aware you were after his money, and most men would’ve ignored you completely because of that, but he can’t deny that he‘s very attracted to you. That and your unbelievable lack of shame. Not once did you even attempt to hide your desire for his money, you would always eye designer stores whenever you were out on dates and you made a habit of asking him for exactly $5.99 every day. There was always a need for it somehow, whether it be the bus, food, or the convenient loss of your piggy bank. You were so dedicated that he couldn’t help but indulge in your wants (or needs as you’d say).

You’re a dumb dumb and VERY obnoxious, not Gojo-level obnoxious, but still pretty annoying. The only reason Nanami ignores it is because you’re a pretty lady who knows how to sweet talk him. He doesn’t mind your level of smarts, and while your obnoxiousness does irritate him at times, it’s not enough for him to up and leave. Besides, you aren’t as dumb as some believe you to be. You’re smart enough to charm a rich man, so how dumb are you really?

Back to the obnoxiousness, boy you talk a lot. It’s like an endless fountain of words spews from your mouth, and if that isn’t the case you’re always doing something mildly annoying.

Nanami’s friends and family are NOT rocking with you in the slightest! Except for Gojo, Gojo likes being around you, you’re a less frustrating version of him. The same goes for Nobara too, she thinks you’re justified and relatable because she too, dries out people’s bank accounts. As for the others, Nanami’s loved ones still don’t understand why he married you while knowing your true intentions. The one who was the most sour about your union was his son, Yuuji. Yuuji never outright says “I don’t like you.” But he does actively make an effort to persuade his dad to leave you. “Divorce isn’t that expensive these days, there’s also less shame, so I think it’s a great choice.” Nanami just chuckles and tells Yuuji that there’s nothing wrong with a woman wanting money. Yuuji is your biggest hater.

NSFW

Nanami gives you allowances for any extra things you want to buy, and you almost always use this money on lingerie. You have a singular closet just for lingerie, it varies from cutesy to intense BDSM. Nanami loves the ones with easy access since he usually comes home exhausted from work. He likes that he doesn’t have to think much, just put his things away and slide into you. He doesn’t like to acknowledge this but if he knows he’s going to be away for a while because of work he’ll take one of his favorite lingerie sets and go crazy with it later. He always asks for permission before doing so.

Hate sex. Annoyance sex (I don’t think that’s what you call it)! You’re so beyond irritating, and while Nanami does love you, he needs a break from it at times. It’s always the worst when he’s trying to organize his schedule or relax from a long day only to have you rambling in his ear. He could ask you to tone it down but sometimes that doesn’t work, if he asks nicely and you don’t stop he’ll distract you with sex.

Nanami will pick you up, toss you onto the bed, and do whatever it takes to keep you quiet. He’ll spend hours pumping into you repeatedly if it means he gets a moment of peace when he’s done. He does get distracted at times though, who can blame him? :(( the way you squirm and shake beneath him when he whispers sweet nothings into your ear while roughly thrusting into your warm pussy, the apologies that fall from your lips when it all becomes a bit too much. “Kento, please, it’s too much…I’ll let you get your work done, I’m sorry…” (you never mean it though, the overstimulation makes you pleasantly dizzy and you love pissing him off). He loves making you feel good, no matter how much he wishes you’d shut up.

Money = breeding session. Nanami has a breeding kink, it’s a fact among the people. He loves cumming inside you but you’re a wicked little thing who won’t let him until he promises to add just a bit more to your allowance. He’ll give you your desired amount no matter how absurd it is. Truth be told he is WHIPPED for you and wants to make you happy (he also wants to cum in you). Some may say this is wrong, others call it taking advantage of your resources.

Bonus: he loves when you suck him off for multiple reasons. 1, it silences you completely. 2, he gets to cum in your mouth. 3, you look so pretty with his dick in your mouth.

𝜗🤍 ݁ I finished this whole thing in 2 HOURS. This must be how mass producers feel when they pump stuff out quickly, better start calling me the SHEIN of tumblr.

TAGS @cindol @rizsu @lucstarz @histani @pekejs @hymnboos @dayestic @svgvruz @zorosq @peachop

[deafsignifcantother]

if music be the food of love, chapter 8

♥ here you go lovies, it’s series time | chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter nine ♥ summary: uhm yeah he confronts you and goes all demon on you but you're like "babe it's just us babe look at me". reader getting ready to jump off a bridge at any moment because this is the worst confrontation she's been through (but she's having a stone face to not let him win). ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (queerplatonic to romance) ♥ word count: 3.7k ♥ pinterest board ♥ notes: she's on artfight, and once again i'm getting catholic on you guys. she also is speaking more often. this story is NOT going to get nsfw but i like a lot of mildly sensual things bc I feel like alastor would do crazy shit and not realize how sensual it is. i wrote this while high (it's 3am) ♥ no tag list rn :3

And so you walk, head tilted downwards, back to the hotel. Chatter silences, and people eye you. Instead of sprinting away, they just back up, not knowing your next move. You watch every crack on the street as you step on them, crushing the gravel and tiny bits of concrete.

Zestial had walked you to the door, basically saying his form of "gg" and leaving you alone.

You think of the place where Alastor found you. Leaving Zestial's little study within Carmilla's professional ownership meant walking through that area and that memory.

Just two overlords find an interest in each other, sparing each other's life in a plan to corrupt the other. That's not exactly humorous.

You suppose it's possible that you'd both somehow taken a form of emotional poison, and it had only taken effect just now, but that's only an excuse for corrupt passion. But at the same time, it's not hard to imagine how this physically attractive person, who's been touchy since the day you met, could have lured you in.

The cars coming up the road don't crash like you expect; they only speed up. You're not angry anymore, that's good.

The demonic deer died without a clue of what would happen, the woman died from drowning. It's a bit reminiscent, isn't it?

The hotel is a cemetery now. Each person inside could be tumbling out the moment the doors open. This is both a suspension of your imagination and the sudden thought that you made Alastor angry. He would have come for you first, right?

The two-door entrance, where you can't lock the doors with the key still inside, felt like introducing your doom. He'd know you're back. Are his ears twitching to the sound of your music? It's hard to imagine that any force outside his heart can penetrate his robust interior. You're special to me because I happen to love you quite a lot.

What kind of expression do you have? Do you look scared shitless, as you feel?

You open the doors, peaking your head in before anything else. You pause to catch your breath. Husk is looking off into a distance, and from this angle you can't tell if his eyes are locked into something or if it's a drunken stare.

When he notices you, he smirks, shrugs, a drunken stare. How dare he have the audacity to smirk at you?

If it hadn't been for the disaster of under an hour ago, Alastor might have given you the usual space. And if he had, you wouldn't have the sense that Alastor was just around the corner. Unless you're delusional with paranoia, it looks like he's on the verge of blurting it out.

You face your fears and walk closer to the foyer, letting the door close behind you. Your eyes dart to the couches, but there is no sign of him.

Even though two demons can sneak up at each other simultaneously, you remain across the hotel from each other.

Husk throws a bottle your way, and it crashes against the wall. You don't jump; you just turn your head slowly.

"His tower." He points upwards.

Good, because you're not going up there. You have space until Alastor decides to come down. He'll likely intrude in your space if you attempt to walk to your room. Should you stay here with Husk? Is that going to summon him quicker?

"Husk."

He rolls his eyes, internally begging for you to leave him alone.

You approach, feet echoing through the silent room. A chill runs up your spine from his hard stare. Was he offended from earlier? It doesn't matter; he's going to indulge.

"When was the last time we saw each other, before all of this?" You suddenly ask.

"At a bar, probably. You'd think you were smarter than me and I'd win every time," he laughs at the memory. "Why? Wanna try again?"

You shake your head. "Was I by chance with Alastor?"

"No."

"In other words, we spent time alone, without Alastor."

"What the hell is your point?"

"Nothing," you give him a smile, "I'm just wondering."

He smiled at the memory, what a cute sentiment.

He growls. "I can tell when you're acting stupid. Stop this little act, it's not going anywhere."

Your smile grows more. "When was the last time you thought about me since then? Before you saw me?"

His eyes squint. "What?"

"Am I not allowed to ask questions?"

"No." He signs again.

You lean further on the desk, nodding with a faux understanding expression. "What if we make an unofficial deal?"

"No."

"So," you continue anyway. "You tell me something I want to know, and in return, I tell Alastor to leave you alone when I'm around. You know he'd listen to me. How does that sound?"

"You could have just bought me beer."

"Will that work?"

His hand goes to his forehead, trying to rub the drunkness from his brain.

"If you don't forget your promise."

You put a hand out, getting his attention again. "And we can gamble again, like old times."

"Sure." He places his hand on the table, staring at them, flexing his claws to prepare for his following words. "What's the question?"

"Did you know Alastor was going to bring me here?"

As he hit his fist on the table, it vibrated, a bottle on the wood shaking a bit. He hadn't touched the drink since you walked over.

His hands lift before dropping again. He wants to sign another why, but that won't satisfy you at this point.

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"He said old friend. I didn't think about it too hard. He said you could help us."

Your spine straightens. Your shoulders raise, your eyebrows furrowing. "That I could help, that's what he said?"

And not that he wanted to be near you again?

"Don't let it get to your head," it's a strange comfort. "He's... Hey, just be cautious."

And then his ears flicker, eyes looking behind you, and you embrace the inevitable. If you could predict the future, you imagine Alastor's hands gripping your shoulders and instantly throwing you to the floor before eating you alive.

Warm breath brushes against your neck, the bangs of a familiar friend hitting your head. Husk turns away. You try to do the same, but a hand wraps around you and pulls you around.

"May I walk you to your chambers?"

"Always such a gentleman."

"Yes, I'm afraid that's true."

What does that mean? Ugh, he's the worst.

His grip doesn't leave you as he forces you to his side, the other hand holding his cane behind him, neither available for communication. This is better than getting his constant teasing.

But he's definitely been planning this since the moment you left. The more you reflect, the more genuine he seems. He hugged you after the meeting and invited you into the kitchen just to rest with you.

As the two traveled, nothing happened for a while. You just try to match his steps while getting comfortable in his rough grip.

And your room approaches. The optimistic part of you wants him to drop you off and leave you alone for the night. But, of course, that wasn't his plan. He stood in front of your door. Did he expect you to open it?

He just stared at it, smile dark, expecting, ready. His grip on your releases.

You reach a hand towards the door knob.

And then the door of his room slams open. A tentacle wraps around your waist, pulling you into the room and lifting you from your feet. It only lets go when Alastor closes the door from behind him.

You don't back away when he strides long and stands before you. He growls, showing his gums and his eyes showing nothing but resentment. He looks at every part of your calm face. His hands lift to grab you but then drop, once again expecting you to move.

After a few seconds of motionless stares, he lifts a hand, touching your speaker, the fast heartbeat pulsating against his fingers. He digs his fingers in the tight space between your skin and the metal. And then he slowly removes it, revealing the strong muscle layer beneath it. You sigh.

You often used to do that, placing your speaker somewhere to sneak up on a victim.

The music goes silent. Alastor kindly holds it in his hand, not letting his claws pierce it. You hate it when your speaker isn't a part of you. It feels as if your heart has been ripped out, and though it causes no pain, the emptiness is a physical and mental anguish.

And then he walks past you, placing the stereo on the table between two lounge chairs. The fireplace ignites. You look at him while he motions to the chair across from him, buttoning down his overcoat and laying it on the head of the chair.

Something horrible is advancing, slowly but surely the situation will only get worse. You try to have a normal stride as you sit on the opposite chair, pushing your dress under you more comfortably, trying not to fidget with your lace, red sleeves.

Whatever passion he shared for you only exists to show signs of warning, his smile more threatening than ever. If you end up dying, you'll die with a look of astonishment on your face.

"Dearest, how do you feel?" He asks. What a pointless question. Does he really expect you to answer? What a sensitive, compassionate question. You almost run away once again.

"Did I betray you?" You ask. "Do I need to apologize?"

His smile widens. Your tone is almost non-caring.

"I'd appreciate an apology, yes."

"Well, I'm sorry for doubting you. I still don't know if you were just joking or not, but judging by this reaction, I, uhm... I'm sorry."

"It's not just anger," he reads your mind.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Jealousy? Aggravation? Hatred?

He continues before you have the chance to lift your hands. "I am fearful, too."

He crosses his legs, soothing his suit. His fingers interlock and rest on his knees, looking at you expectantly, waiting for your response to his rare sensitivity. But then he changes his mind, suddenly raising his hands, signing faster than usual. "Think about it. I presume you've grown to consider me some beast that comes from out the woods. And at the same time, you're just a girl who has clung to me. What does that make you? You melt into my touch while trying to get as far away from me as you can."

"You do the same thing."

And in an instant, his claws sharpen, his hair goes into spikes, and he grips onto the chair. You fight the urge to react in fear. This is just his emotive wall, you remind yourself. At least he's trying.

He isn't giving you room to respond; he hasn't been. "How insensitive. You're trying to dissect me but it won't work, I can see through you."

A stiff shrug is your only response. You squeeze your hands to soothe the shaking before you respond. "You're a trendsetter."

His body grows, contorting, and he lifts himself from his chair, both hands reaching to grab you. Even this smiling shadow circles you. The lights flicker before shutting off completely. The only light is the fireplace and the glow of his eyes, not including the green aura his anger lets off.

"You think this is a joke?"

Not at all. Acting like a scared little girl will only feed his ego; knowing his words messed with you will satisfy him.

This reaction is what you wanted. You stand, hands nearing his face, leaning close, straining your own life by swooping his bangs out of the way, pressing a kiss to the target on his forehead. You force your forehead on his. His hands immediately claw into your skin, a threat, a warning that he's going to break you in half.

But you speak to him, a low whisper. "Your love is not a joke to me."

His hands touch your stomach as he shoves you away. You fall to the floor, body having missed the chair behind you.

"Enough," he signs. "Do not touch me lest I'll take your soul."

You don't even try to sit up, head on his carpet. Your hair falls on either side of your face, and you keep your eyes on Alastor as he crawls just barely over you. You keep a straight face. "You wouldn't hurt me."

One of his hands raises while the other plants by your side, wrist brushing against your ankle. His bowtie is crooked, his collar half up and half down. The disordered fashion is unlike him, you've never seen it before.

"Physically."

And that hand presses on your stomach, clawing at it until the fabric of your dress rips. The warm air hits you. His threatening nature doesn't cause the usual butterflies.

He sits up. "I hate this dress."

When you tilt your head, he continues. "I hate the good memories, I hate cherishing you."

You raise to your elbows, but he slams you back down.

He finally crawls over you, knees cradling your thighs, his hands on either side of you. Your fingers brush against his. He leans down, putting his forehead against yours. His breathing is heavy, his smile is closed, and his lips threatening to open in a snarl. You keep your eyes open; his are calmly closed. Around a minute pasts, the longest minute of your life. His breathing slows, and his body returns to normal. His head remains in front of yours, almost shielding your eyes from his transformation. He tilts his head, not leaning in but changing the angle of his access.

And as quick as he can, he leans back, arms stiff and straight, eyes expansive with fascination. You try to calm your eyes and remain stoic, but your lips part, and your eyes shine in response. He runs his eyes through your upper body, with no sense of salaciousness, staring at the hole in your chest and your hands, relaxing against the floor.

If you're ever in danger, he thinks, it will be the end of me.

"That."

"That."

"Yes, that."

Like the rest of this conversation, you wait for him to interrupt you, but his arms relax. He can't stop staring at you, unblinking. Finally, you shift uncomfortably under his stare.

"What?" You pinch your fingers together.

His smile widens. He looks so attractive when he looks down at you like that, attempting to calm his breath, his red button-up wrinkled with violent movements. You log this memory into your brain to hold onto forever.

"The forehead touch, the first time we did that you were wearing this."

His hands slide down your waist, and you try to jolt away. His hands move back. "Apologies."

"I didn't know you liked the forehead thing so much."

"My darling, can't you remember that I initiated it first? But you refuse to remember, silly girl, while I can never forget. There was a swirl of love in your eyes, I had never seen somebody look at me like that. You had lost your mind."

You smile, lips lifting unintentionally. "Didn't you run away?"

His smile drops only a bit. He shakes his head, hands not lifting anymore, and he stands, offering a hand to you. As if you weigh nothing, he lifts you to your feet with one motion.

You change the topic, intending to save yourself. "May I touch your collar?"

He tilts his head up, still remaining silent but smiling, the corner of his mouth returning high on his cheeks at your touch. Your fingers fold his collar back, straightening his bowtie and tightening it. "There you go."

He grabs your wrists, puts them to his lips, and kisses them softly. Instead of dropping them immediately, he leans into your knuckles, holding himself there until you grab both cheeks. His eyes close, and he smiles small.

Can't wait to tell Zestial about this.

This embrace has only ever been in your imagination. You never pictured how warm Alastor was, how he admitted to liking (loving? still difficult to process) you, the way he held your speaker as if it was a newborn kitten, his claws never drawing blood on your skin no matter how much he wanted to, and you'd definitely never imagine his small smiles.

Is this what he has been wanting all along? Was Husk just seeing the worst in him?

Alastor's hands hold your shoulder blades as he pulls you in enough for your hands to still touch his cheeks. His hair rests against the top of your head, making you smile.

But with a twitch of his hands, you both realize something. You have yet to say it back. You bite your lip, leaning away, still not removing your hands from his face. His eyes peek at you, red eyes glowing. Your hands remain in their place.

Think of Zestial's advice, think of Zestial's advice, think of Zestial's advice.

A deep breath leaves you. He straightens his body, your hands falling from him. All you do is lift up your fingers, ily, not sign the sentence, and put it against his chest. He doesn't look at your hand. He stares at you.

Your other hand signs a soft "Please."

For now, he'll accept your hesitation. But he won't again.

You return your hands to yourself. "Let love be without dissimulation." His ears press to the back of his head. He tries to grab your hands, but you don't stop, so you take a big step back. "Abhor that which is evil and cleave to that which is good."

"Those verses mean nothing." His claws bump into each other as he signs, his precise angles long gone.

"They do to me, let love be genuine, Alastor. Mutual affection, don't you understand?"

Another argument approaches: "Do not bring those verses into my life, any of them. You challenged me once, and I will not let you challenge me again."

He points his finger at you, and you stare at it. "Is your love genuine?"

"You're letting words play in your head," he points to his temple, doing the crazy motion. "You're doubting me again."

"You didn't answer."

He reaches forward, fingers curved to emphasize his claws, but he stops his grasp only centimeters away from your shoulders. "My dear, you're driving me crazy."

"You ruined my dress."

"You're always so good at changing the subject."

You can't help but smile. Alastor's anger becomes less threatening the longer it lasts; his sharpened hair and strong shoulders just make you want to caress him into normalcy.

The lights flicker back on. You look around, eyeing the environment you didn't get the chance to see before. "So this is your room?"

His hands drop dramatically.

You sign, "I'm a bit disappointed there's no huge portraits of me, how dare you."

When you're eyeing the bones on his wall, he puts his overcoat back on, pulls the sleeves down, and buttons his waist. The rip around your stomach is the most visible part of your appearance, he snaps it away, glancing off to the side nervously. He needs to control himself more. He needs to stop acting like such a baby around you. But how you look at him draws him in more than anything; he's truly never been around someone who has treasured him as much as you do. Your eyes light up whenever he touches you, and you sulk when he pulls away. Do you live off of the contact? Sometimes it feels like it.

So when you turn to face him again, hands rubbing against the place on your stomach where the rip was, his eyes twitch a bit and watch your hands.

"Ah, my dear, put those hands to better use."

You squint, tilting your head before he wraps his arms around your thighs and lifts you up. You let out a loud woah, hands gripping his neck, his face plush against your collarbone. He feels the dip of the empty space where your speaker once was.

He spins around, gaining laughs from you, his main goal. He wants this night to be a good memory. Your hands roam upwards to the back of his head, your nails digging into his skull, pulling on his hair. He groans, vibrating against your skin, tightening his hands on your thighs. When your hands run up his hair, puffing it up with your touches, he feels a chill down his spine. So that's what that feels like. It's thrilling.

Before you can even process the lack of contact, he throws you onto his bed. You bounce in place, the pillows moving alongside you, and a shadow pulls you higher up, wrapping a blanket around you.

Alastor swipes his hands together, almost clapping. "Get some rest, darling!"

And traveling with his shadow, he looms over you, standing, holding your speaker in one hand. He slips it in place, the music pulsating before starting off again. How exquisite, you must love him.

"Alastor." You try and sit up.

"No, no, darling, put your little head to rest." He pushes you down. "We have to make sure you don't start sulking again, I don't want my residents being tortured by your dear melodies," he snaps his fingers and puts you in your nightly clothes, the red dress draped over the same chair, his coat was, "I'll always be here if you need me."

"I know." You stare at him through your eyelashes. He definitely wants you to try to sleep so you don't go roaming around flustered. What time is it even? Considering his little meltdown, you won't try to test him on it.

"Well," he stands, and you realize how tall he is from this angle. "Try and have good dreams."

You just scoff, turning to your side, capturing a second pillow in your grasp, and cuddling with it. Alastor definitely doesn't use this bed, it smells like nothing at all. Disappointing. You need to change that soon.

[mixelation]

okay i think the mood for (a)synchronicity is

minato needs constant enrichment or else he gets bored and upset. professionally he fulfills this mostly with little jutsu development projects. this man is like "guess i'll just figure out this nigh-impossible teleportation technique. oh no what if my childhood friend gets bullied? i'll just invent the rasengan" and because he is in a village at war they're like "hey what if your job was more murder?" and like. a bunch of unchallenging murders is fine enrichment, he guesses. but it's also sort of like chomping down on iceberg lettuce when you're hungry

however, minato is also a certified Wife Guy In Training. his enrichment needs can be like 90% met with eating pussy a girlfriend. i think i'll also toss in the detail that they keep sending him places alone so he doesn't even have a mission partner to talk to

meanwhile tori just abruptly went from live-in dungeon gremlin to unhoused wandering scam artist abruptly and completely against her will. oto and akatsuki gave her insane trust issues, but she also had a mildly stable life with unhinged maniacs, but they were predictable unhinged maniacs. now she's cold and wet and tired all of the time, and worried about her physical safety even more than before, and he has no friends or allies, and so OBVIOUSLY a pretty man showing concern about her wellbeing one (1) time drove her insane. obviously. except then the next time they meet, he clearly doesn't remember her, and also he just talks like that to everyone and doesn't actually care. tori is frustratingly attracted to him but also he is (unintentionally) playing with her heart and her conclusion is that she should brutally murder him

AFTER she attempts to kill him, the dynamic switches. an unenriched minato has just found the most interesting woman in the world. he's obsessed. and he FUCKED UP because tori doesn't trust him. like she trusts him in that he can convince her he's not going to kill her or injure her, but also he has to convince her he is emotionally safe and he does care about her, which is what she has secretly desperately desired this entire time. so minato killing hundreds just for her and then tenderly wiping blood from her face is meant to be the emotional pivot of this murder romcom. he does care! aaaw!!

after they hook up, i think minato immediately transitions into "i am committed for life, we will get married" and tori is like, "....what?"

like for her she's imagining this as just a fun thing she does to make her feel better until she figures out how to get OFF the continent*? or reverse time travel? which ever comes first

BUT. also. consider. minato trying his best to date her feels really good. what the FUCK is she supposed to do with this. also she's like, "you canNOT get seriously injured, if you do that i will have to kill SO many people" and minato just. smitten. help him

*i decided her roadblock here is a combo of financial and not having her own connections. which is why she keeps entering into weird scams and lies

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 22: [IT2] diavolo, mammon / on fathers

ao3 link

note: it2 is my new clever abbreviation for the 'it takes two' au and this starts around the asmo arc (i.e. during the retreat at the castle)! also i got a little in my feels while writing this so if you'd like to play a game with me, try to spot which parts of the venting came from a place of experience lol

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

It’s been a long while since Diavolo last wanted to hide from a gathering, and longer still since he lacked the self-consciousness to duck behind his father’s wings when things got overwhelming. Upon spotting IK’s tense little figure from the opposite side of the ballroom, however, he remembers the feeling just as sharply.

He keeps a genial smile on his face as the demons in his company continue chattering, interjecting a remark every now and then so as not to cause suspicion. When he notes that the Demonus in their glasses has drained enough, he dismisses them under the guise of inviting them to refill their drinks, and quickly sidles away.

It’s hard to move inconspicuously, but Barbatos - timely as ever - melts out of the crowd to efficiently ward off any would-be approachers, directing them instead in the direction of some of the R.A.D. faculty hovering by the buffet table. Hopefully the good professors won’t mind picking up the conversation in his stead.

IK is all but hiding behind a pillar. He ducks down and, keeping his voice low, says, “Hello. How are you doing?”

She jumps, then relaxes when he recognises him. “Uh— hi. I’m alright, thanks.”

“Are you sure? You’re all on your own over here.” He looks around the ballroom, but fails to spot any of the brothers on his first sweep. Which is a little alarming, actually, seeing as they usually stand out so much. “I think I’d better keep you company for a while.”

“You don’t need to do that,” IK says, but looks relieved all the same. “...there’s so many people here.”

“It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? I’m never as used to it as I think I am.”

She casts a glance around the room, then shrinks back and makes an attempt at melting into the wall. “...they’re staring.”

“They are,” He agrees, and sidles a little closer to the wall, flaring his wings as if stretching, and then closing them again with IK carefully hidden in their folds. “There! Is that better?”

“They’re going to stare more now,” She mumbles, but she does look a little pleased.

“In our direction, perhaps. But I can assure you that they won’t be able to see through me.”

“...thank you.”

“Of course.”

She hovers awkwardly for a moment. (Maybe he should’ve gotten a chair.)

“Where’s your father?” Diavolo asks finally.

IK shifts. “...dunno. He was talking to Lucifer last time I looked.”

“You didn’t stay with him?”

“Didn’t want to.”

Diavolo decides to forgo looking for Zhao first - he’s plain enough that he’s rendered practically invisible among demons - and instead scans the ballroom for two distinctive pairs of black-feathered wings. Lucifer, unusually, is out on the dance floor, and teaching IK’s father the intricacies of a traditional Devildom waltz.

They don’t seem to be having a bad time, at least, but Zhao still looks vaguely terrified. Then again, Diavolo’s fairly sure that that’s just what his face is like.

He decides to leave them to it. Attempting to wave either of them over would only attract more undue attention. The only issue with their current arrangement is that none of IK’s other friends will be able to spot her, either…

Or so he thinks. A few moments later, Mammon finally fights his way out of the crowd and makes a beeline straight for Diavolo - who, by all means, should be the only figure he sees by the wall.

But it isn’t Diavolo he addresses when he gets there. Eyes fixed firmly on the dark crevice in his wings, he ducks down and hisses, “I thought ya’d gotten lost! Tell me next time ya decide to play hide-n-seek!”

“Don’t be upset, Mammon,” Diavolo interjects mildly. “IK was only waiting by the wall. I was the one who offered to hide her.”

Mammon barely even gives him a cursory nod, let alone the customary bow. He withdraws a little, though, and looks less irritated. “...well, ya shouldn’t be wanderin’ around on your own, neither. I told ya to stick with the others.”

IK, uncharacteristically, does not respond. After a moment, Mammon deflates a little, then sighs.

“Let’s go outside, eh?” He asks, softer now. “We can take a walk around the gardens, where it’s quiet.”

A brief silence. Then IK says quietly, “Okay.”

Diavolo withdraws his wings, and offers what he hopes is a warm smile. Mammon spares him a dismissive wave, but IK makes an effort to smile back before she’s led away.

It isn’t long before he’s pulled back to the party, but the whole matter stays on his mind through the rest of the retreat. That same night, a certain unruly group of demons and humans get trapped in the underground catacombs, and he’s there to greet them when they finally stumble out.

He watches Zhao gently push his daughter in front of him once they say farewell to Henry and step back through into the castle. IK, on the other hand, doesn’t look at her father at all, and speeds up to walk with Leviathan at the front of the group, staring straight ahead even as he continues to watch her anxiously from behind.

Two days later, as he sees the guests out as they head back to the House of Lamentation, he stops IK briefly. Mammon stops as well, but remains a good few feet away - not eavesdropping too obviously, but evidently unwilling to leave them unsupervised.

“Feel free to come over whenever you like,” He says with a smile. “It gets a little boring around here sometimes, you know?”

“...sure.”

——

“You know, I’m beginning to think that you aren’t coming here just for my company,” Diavolo says when Mammon shows up with IK for the fourth time this week.

“Eh? What makes ya think that?” Mammon ushers her into the entrance hall and glances surreptitiously behind himself before following. “We’re just havin’ so much fun. Ain’t that right, kiddo?”

IK looks mildly anxious and doesn’t reply. A moment later, Barbatos arrives to greet the guests - wearing a hospitable smile that has begun to look rather quizzical the more he has to use it.

“Welcome… back,” He says after a moment - allowing himself to exchange a look with Diavolo. “Would you like anything?”

“Oh, we were thinkin’ of just going around the gardens again.” Mammon coughs and gives IK a hard pat on the shoulder. “Ya don’t mind, right?”

“Certainly not. We can take an extra long walk today - I’m rather in want of things to do.”

“Then I shall clean in the meantime,” Barbatos says - notably not reminding Diavolo of the extra deadlines he could be preparing for with the free time. “Perhaps you would like to take tea afterwards?”

He glances at the back of IK’s head, then gives Diavolo another look. He gets the message; his butler, in a somewhat quietly bewildered way, is concerned.

“That would be lovely, Barbatos,” He says with a smile. “What do you say, IK? I seem to recall that you liked the shortcake last week.”

She doesn’t respond until Mammon nudges her. “Um— sure, thanks.”

Barbatos bows and retreats back into the castle. Diavolo turns to his guests with a smile. “Well, to the garden we go!”

It doesn’t escape his notice how the two of them keep their conversation to a whisper. Diavolo’s well used to not understanding inside jokes or keeping out of the fluent arguments the brothers have with each other, but this is different. Mammon is doing roughly all of the talking; IK only gives half-hearted shrugs and shakes of her head in response.

He keeps a count from the corner of his eye, and by the time they’ve gone in a full circle around the hedgerows, IK has laughed exactly once. That’s the sharpest dip there’s been in any of these visits, and by the looks of it, the number isn’t about to go up.

“I’m feeling a little tired,” He lies as they come to a pond. “Would you mind if we sat down for a while?”

He invites IK to sit by the water with him. He still hasn’t gotten around to adding any fish, but IK seems happy to just watch it ripple.

Mammon is watching him unusually closely from IK’s other side. Diavolo’s known for a while that he can be much more observant than he’s given credit for, but it feels odd to be the subject of his scrutiny. Clearly he’ll be reprimanded if he goes about this the wrong way.

“You’re not actually tired, are you?” IK asks after a moment. “You want to talk to me about something.”

…and clearly he isn’t very subtle. Diavolo admits it readily. “You’re right. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

The speed of the response only makes him worry more. A look at Mammon’s face says that he feels the same way.

“It’s starting to feel like you spend more time here than at the House of Lamentation.” IK looks up at him blankly, and he panics a little. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, of course!”

IK stares at him for another long moment. Like her father, she avoids meeting anyone’s eyes - but when she does, it’s so intense that it almost burns.

“Uh, we should go,” Mammon says uncomfortably, starting to get to his feet. “Thanks for the—”

“I have to insist you stay,” Diavolo interrupts, and even Mammon can’t refuse a direct command from him. “It’s my duty to ensure your well-being. Whatever it is, I’d like to help.”

“You can’t,” IK says forcefully. Though she doesn’t say it, her voice silently adds, You wouldn’t get it. 

It’s a sentiment that Diavolo’s grown accustomed to, whether spoken or implied. His position is one-of-a-kind - most demons don’t believe they have much in common with a crown prince, and the demons that might consider him a friend don’t believe they do, either.

In most ways, it’s a fair assessment. He doesn’t live like most demons, and he’ll never know what it had been like to fall. He does, however, know what it’s like to have a father.

“It’s not easy to put into words, is it?” He asks softly.

IK looks at him for another longer, then turns her head stiffly to the side, and goes back to staring into the water. 

Mammon is watching her with the same expression that Zhao had worn as they left the catacombs. He’s seen it before on Lucifer as well, when he thinks no one is looking, and one of his brothers is in an unusual amount of trouble.

“They’ll always worry,” He says. “Not always in ways that are helpful - sometimes in ways that hurt. Even if you don’t want them to.”

IK sighs. “...he never worried like that before. He wasn’t around to worry. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“He loves you a lot.”

“I know.”

“But it doesn’t change things, does it?”

“...no.”

They listen to the splash of the pond.

“My father loved me,” Diavolo says after a while. “I’m sure of that. When I was born, I flew down to meet him, when most young demons still don’t know how to use their wings. He was proud that day. But I didn’t grow to be a perfect son - nor a perfect heir. I never found out which he wanted more.”

IK glances at him through the reflection in the water. He continues, “I still loved him, as most sons do. It was enough for a time. But then I grew up - and I’m not sure if we ever liked each other after that. I’m not sure if I loved him more than I feared him, either.”

“If you hadn’t flown,” IK says, “Do you think it’d all be the same?”

He smiles ruefully at her. “...I don’t know. But I think I’ve made peace with that.”

IK nods. She knows exactly what’s going through his head.

“Man,” Mammon mutters a few moments later. “What am I even s’posed to say about that?”

Diavolo jumps a little. To be honest, he’d forgotten he was there. “Oh…”

“To be honest, ya never really think about what ‘Father’ means when you’re an angel,” Mammon adds, and Diavolo wisely decides to stay quiet. “He’s just there. He’s just ‘Father’. I mean, you’re meant to love him or somethin’, but I never saw him, did I? So when Lucifer told us he was startin’ a rebellion, I joined in, and I never missed him. Father, I mean.”

“But Lucifer did. That was the weird part. He took Michael real seriously when he was younger, and I reckon that’s why - he believed in all that stuff about Father lovin’ us all so much. But I never thought about it that hard, ‘cause it never felt like anythin’ real, you know? He was ‘Father’, but he wasn’t really a father. At least, I never felt like it.”

He pauses to consider it. “...it’s like that with Lucifer, sometimes. You know he loves ya, but sometimes you just don’t see it, no matter how many times ya remind yourself. But he’s tryin’ his best, y’know? He doesn’t know how else to do it.”

IK stares silently at the pond. Diavolo does the same, and suddenly spots that exact same worry from before on his face as well.

“Uh... your dads are a lot worse than mine.” She makes an attempt at an ironic smile. “We’re just regular humans. There isn’t a lot to say.”

“I think that’s precisely why there is,” Diavolo replies. “Humour us, won’t you?”

“...fine.”

IK folds her arms and ducks her head in earnest, using her hair as a shield for her face. On the surface of the water, Diavolo regards the dull defeat in her eyes.

“My dad’s the best,” She says suddenly. “He works harder than anyone. I’m glad he’s here because he gets to rest. But he isn’t resting. He thinks I still need taking care of. But I don’t. I don’t need him to worry about me, I don’t need him to look after me. I know how to do that by myself.”

She swipes her sleeve fiercely across her face, then continues forcefully, “I used to make him carry me around everywhere. It was the first thing he did when he got back, no matter how tired he was. Sometimes he just fell because he didn’t have the energy, and we'd just lie on the floor for a bit."

“And I was always waiting for him to come home. I was always waiting for him to pick me up again. Because I needed him, and sometimes he wasn’t there when I looked for him, but he’d come if I waited long enough. But now he’s just there. He’s just there and he’s—”

(—she looks just like him when she’s about to cry—)

“—he’s the best and I hate him. I was tired, too. I didn’t know how to make my bed or tie my shoes or anything. So I had to learn everything by myself. He kept telling me to leave it all to him, but then I could only go back to waiting, so what else was I supposed to do?”

“I can take care of myself. I don’t need his help anymore. Why couldn’t he have taught me in the first place? I just wanted my dad. He fought to have me, but he couldn’t fight to stay with me, and I know why, so I can’t even get angry.”

She tosses a rock into the pond. The splash breaks the reflection of her face into hundreds of rippling pieces. Mammon chews anxiously on his lip and places a hesitant arm around her shoulder.

“I’m probably making him sad,” She says finally. “But I don’t know what to do anymore.”

A moment passes. Diavolo knows better than to try the same thing as Mammon. Instead, he takes a breath, shifts form, and curls a wing around her instead.

He glances into the pond one more time. The cool water makes his eyes look more yellow than gold - just like his father’s.

Diavolo doesn’t recall ever being folded into his father’s wings like this. He only remembers hiding in them by himself. But his father had never told him not to, either.

“I think… this is a decision only you can make,” He says after a moment. “There isn’t a right or wrong answer. But, for what it’s worth - you’re still young. Nothing is irreparable. And I think your father will wait for as long as it takes.”

“No rush,” Mammon adds with a supportive nudge. “As long as you’re happy, okay? We’ll be alright.”

“Sure,” IK mutters. If she believes them even a little, then Diavolo is happy with that. “...can we talk about something else now?”

“I think Barbatos will be done with his sweeping by now,” Diavolo says, and gets back to his feet. “Let’s go have some cake, shall we?”

[kimsmuse]

Hiii, I just came across your blog, and I L O V E it! Since you said you were looking for a recommendation, here's one from me. Yandere school president. They have immense power at their school because not only are they the president, but their parents own the school. Their word is quite literally the law at this school. He just so happens to be head over heels in love and obsessed with you. Give in to their obsessive and possessive love or suffer the consequences. Since he holds so much power, he can make you a school outcast in less then a week, and he can have teachers fail you or pick on you for the stupidest reasons ever, he'll make your life a living hell at school if you don't accept his twisted and fucked up love, it's best to just be a good darling, and let yourself be loved on his own terms. It's a concept I've thought about a lot, but I haven't seen much of it. Anyways, thank you for your time, and keep up the good work!!!

okay okay omg first of all your brain???? this way too good and oml now i'm sad i spent my entire school life without a class prez like this :( but let's talk about this !!! this is mildly inspired by this one guy from the kdrama called taxi driver (ep 3) !!!

gender neutral!reader. warnings for obsessive behavior, mentions of killing someone but it's nothing graphic. blackmail/coercion type thing?? and typical yandere behavior.

okay so yandere!class president who is so focused, he's the top student of the grade and he's good at sports too?? captain of the basket ball team?? i don't know how he does it because i really couldn't but anyway even apart from that he keeps on taking part and neatly scoring in debates, and writing contests, you name it and he's doing it. it does happen sometimes that he ends up getting silver or bronze but he's there on the list somehow.

and obviously if you've ever been a teenager then you know how attractive this type of people are, because they're good at everything, because they look very unattainable and bonus for our class president is that he's super hot as well. so obviously he had a classroom filled with admirers. and he loved the attention, who doesn't? but he's never thought more of it than that, the aspect of romance is kinda alien to him, he's had his fair share of physical relationships (if they can be even called that) but none of them too good to stay.

so he keeps on with his day, his cram school, having lunch, dinner, studying, more studying.

and when he bumps into you from his way back from the library, he just stops dead in his tracks as you attempt to pick up the books you both dropped, and when you look up at him he's literally frozen. who are you? why has he never seen you around? why do you look so pretty? hey, where's that romantic instrumental playing from? why-

"hey, mister, are you okay? i didn't hit your head or anything right?"

and trust me when he's the literal embodiment of the ":0" emoji.

anyway, but that guy has never had a crush before so at first he just feels like its some kinda internal intuition? that there's something wrong with you or something.

but then he finds himself trying to find your class, sitting there on the excuse of talking to some friends and obviously he's welcomed there.

and he figures that his initial impression might be a wrong because you were such a sweetheart. not as popular as him, and you stuck to your 2-3 friends but he saw the way you would smile at people - a gentle, warm one. and he quite literally died when you greeted him that way once, surprised that you would know about his existence

it wasn’t that he forgot he was famous but having a crush really does wonders to your self esteem.

also you best believe he's digging up all your information, your past schooling if you've transferred, your parents' background, your social media and duh, where you live, where you work.

and if you work somewhere like a cafè or a convenience store, he's there for half the day, "studying" for exams and stuff, he claims it helps more than studying at home. and all the time his eyes barely register a page because he's looking at you as you're hard at work, helping customers, greeting them with that damned, charming smile and then in rare moments he looks at you as you lose that demeanor and sigh out of exhaustion. poor baby, he wished he could something for you so bad in those moments.

and then comes the part where his friends (he has a lot of friends but he believed that when you have a crush you shouldn’t tell everyone? also given his popularity... he figured it wouldn't be a greatest idea ever. so he only told like a guy or two) they adviced him to just go up to you and ask you out? what's the problem even? he's literally the golden boy of the school, why would someone reject him ever? you shouldn’t even be worried about that, dude! but with that confidence in himself, he decides on a day, nothing too significant and he looks at himself in the mirror.

"uh, actually, i do have a partner," did you hear that? the glass shattering? uh, that was his heart. that was his reaction when you told him this. but it was true, you had a partner in another country (which made sense that the yandere did not come to know of this before because he had been following you, just to make sure you were safe ofcourse, and he did not see a persosn who could classify as a romantic threat) and you loved them very much! no matter how cute and great this guy was, you were loyal to them.

and now cue the yandere's sad era. but only for like a day or two. until he realizes something. this was absurd, you were rejecting him? when so many people would literally kill for something like this? it was unbelievable. but he was deadset, this was the first time he felt this way for someone and he was determind to make you feel the same, or at least keep you with him, and he would do it with any means necessary.

he realized that your friends' parents were mere employees in his dad's company so all it took was one meeting. "stop talking to y/n." for them to start ignoring you and they did not even try to keep it lowkey and you had to resort to sitting alone at lunch, giving an easy access to the guy who used it as a time to sit beside you and tell you about his day, nevermind the fact that for the first few times you would just up and leave. and then you finally decided to just snap.

"what the fuck do you want?" you look at him, frustrated by all these things, and changes happening in your life in less than a week.

he just smirked, that mf had the audacity to smirk? "you, ofcourse,"

now he wasn’t quite violent because he'd just entered adulthood, he did not want to fuck up and spend the rest of his years in jail (not that he actually would because his parents would be hiring the world's best lawyers for him) but he did imagine it, murdering your s/o. he did not know what they looked like, but all they saw was you happy in their arms and as much he loved that little smile of yours, he wanted it to be for himself! not someone else!

so anyway, after you storm out on him after the last conversation, you get your english test results back and a big, red F is staring at you.

and normally your parents weren't grade obsessed but you would boast to them about how good you were at english and how much you loved the subject and even the teacher agreed thaf you were good at it.

when you meet with the teacher after class, he just removes his spectacles and rubs his eyes, "listen, y/n, you're one of the smartest students i've had the pleasure of teaching. so make the right choice, it's good for your future. just say yes to him. he's not bad, you know,"

he was behind this???????

you felt even more utterly helpless when you found that the yandere's parents fund almost more than half of the school so there’s nobody who would be willing to go against them and help you, no matter how much you would plead them.

"a transfer? don't even think about it, baby, nobody is going to issue that certificate unless i say so,"

chills run down your neck as he whispers this. you were truly stuck with him.

[rockturbot]

do you have any headcanons abt them.

Many. Here's a few of them. Some of them I'm sure I've mentioned before.

🟠Gant: -is ambidextrous! -is mildly allergic to peanuts -was born in Greece -doesn't exactly *believe* in astrology but will still look up the natal chart of everyone he regularly spends time with. If you refuse to tell him the time and place of your birth he will abuse his authority as a police officer to find ways to attain the information regardless. At that point it's not even about your chart anymore. He just can't stand people purposefully withholding information from him. -loves snakes and spiders and bugs and all kinds of animals considered "creepy" by most. He always wanted a pet snake, but circumstances never really aligned :( -is Magnifi Gramarye's younger half-brother and can Perceive; that's what his long stares are. Usually. Other times he really does just want to unsettle you. Magnifi doesn't like him much and so they don't really talk, though. Gant is a bit sad but respects his boundaries. He unleashes all his annoying younger sibling energy on Manfred instead. Or whoever else happens to be around. But annoying Manfred is fun :) -his pink glasses can detect luminol, just like Ema's. 🔴Blaise: -likes dogs! Napalm (the dog Edgeworth found in the mall in the flashback episode in season 2 of the anime) is his dog. -tapes pictures of people he doesn't like to the walls of his office and uses them as dartboards when angry -used to play very loud music in his office when he was younger, either by putting on a record at max volume or playing his electric guitar himself. Stopped this eventually to prevent further damage to his hearing. -grew up as the son of a single father who wanted him to follow in his footsteps as a mechanic and taught him how to maintain all kinds of vehicles from a young age. Blaise has used these skills to manipulate the brake cables of people who got uncomfortably close to revealing incriminating truths about him and had them disappear in tragic "accidents". -his impressive abs? Are silicone implants. As someone who derived much of his confidence from being conventionally attractive when he was younger, aging took a pretty strong emotional toll on him and he couldn't deal with losing both his hair and his muscle definition.

🔵Manfred: -was offered the position of chief prosecutor before Blaise, but declined. He wants to prosecute, not administrate. -is left-handed -really does primarily use his stun gun for self-defense (though it sure comes in handy when threatening defense attorneys and their assistants). If there's one thing he can do as well as prosecute criminals, it's make them very, very angry. -he gets along perfectly fine with horses, though! His family always had horses so he grew up around them and knows how to behave around them to make them feel safe. -may or may not have named Franziska after Frank Sinatra -will deny this if you ask him about it -will remain silent if Gant asks him about it. He knows he can Perceive. -thought for the longest time that it was *Gregory* who shot him in an attempt to fight off Yogi. Only realized the truth after looking at the DL-6 case files many years later, sometime around 2013-2014, and reading that forensics only found Yogi's and Miles's fingerprints on the gun. Only then did he begin to plot the whole Turnabout Goodbyes thing.

[wolfcroissant]

Wriothesley Headcannons (Best friends to lovers) (any gender reader) PART 3

In celebration of the upcoming winter solstice, your school is hosting a school-wide dance. A prom, you could say.. Every student is asked to bring a date of their choice and to celebrate and enjoy the shortest day of the year! (I got this idea from chinese culture because I'm half chinese. We celebrate winter solstice as a way of gathering family before chines New year!)

You being your usual gorgeous self (slayed), had a infinitesimal large amount of suitors asking you out. Of course, you were flattered. You had even had to empty out parts of your closet for the amount of gifts people had got you in hopes you'd accept their hand.

(Let's set the scene) It's the week before the dance, and you are with Wriothesley, relaxing together on his bed, bonding like usual. Your toying with a confession letter from one of your suitors. You've been trying to ignore Wriothesley's unusually intense gaze on your hands for the past few minutes.

"Y/N, who could've caught your eyes for you to reject everyone from your large pool of....suitors" drawled Wriothesley.

You leaned your tired head on Wriothesley's comfortably large shoulders (best pillow), sighing "My gut keeps telling me that I haven't found the person I want yet".

"At this point you might as well go to the dance with me" teased Wriothesley, his stupidly deep and attractive(!!!) voice quietly flowing into your ears.

(Oh dear) you could help but freeze in shock at his words, a fiery blush working its way up to your face. In this moment you met his gaze, and he looked the most handsome he has ever looked. Ice- blue eyes blazing, his strong body right beside you, his calloused yet gentle hands on your hands.

"Oh, Wriothesley, your such a trickster!" You tried to laugh off the rapid beating of your heart, but your half-assed attempt to hide your attraction hasn't gone unnoticed by Wriothesley.

"Oh? Dear Y/N, why so nervous? After all, we are just "friends" aren't we?" He chuckled.

Your mouth goes dry as your heart races. Suddenly, your brain cells started vibrating and working as hard as they can to compute an answer. You then realized it. YOU. LIKED. WRIOTHESLEY. YOUR BEST FRIEND???? (OMG CONFESSION TIME???)

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed to going to the dance with you. You're the only male suitable in this entire school" you tried to ask nonchalantly, bit that was difficult due to you being a blushing mess.

Wriothesley suddenly gets up from his bed and you can't help but notice how fucking hot he looks in a tuxedo(that's y'all school uniform ;]). "May I offer you a hand, and a heart, Y/N?" He proclaimed softly, only for you to hear.

You can't help yourself anymore "Wriothesley, I don't want you like a best friend. I want to be more with you. I want to see you everyday and have my day light up. I want to spend everyday and every moment with you." You confessed passionately.

You close your eyes in nervousness and open them up to see Wriothesley's shocked face.

"Oh, wow, I mean. I knew you liked me, I just didn't expect you to be so...bold. so unlike you....I like it~"

You got up and bowed to Wriothesley dramatically, before speaking "You may have my hand and my heart, Sir Wriothesley. I'll gladly go to the dance with you" you spoke in a cheeky tone. You could help but smile as you saw his eyes light up like a thousand suns.

PART 4? (Some mildly spicy or fluffy parts coming possibly???)

[ghcstao3]

(scrapped) hogwarts professor!ghost x zoologist!soap very very old draft but :3 also peep ghost with glasses

-

Ghost’s social life has never been anything spectacular to begin with, but when he somehow manages to become the newest potions professor at Hogwarts, he finds it to be entirely lacking.

The balance he requires among work alone is enough to keep him busy nearly every waking hour of his days, and adding his personal life to his list of things-to-do, Ghost would surely end up with prematurely greying hair. 

(And who is he kidding—he’s already just about reached that point.)

So, it is safe to say that Ghost doesn’t get out much. It’s an unfortunate truth for his first couple of years teaching, but honestly, it isn’t much of a bother. Ghost is mostly happy, if a little stressed, and he’s more than lucky to be in his current position—that’s what he thinks, and that’s all that matters. Work gives him purpose.

At least, it’s all that matters until the universe decides it has other plans and introduces Ghost to a mildly bizarre man by the name of Soap.

Soap (real name currently unbeknownst to Ghost) approaches the professor while he shops for ingredients for a personal potions project. Soap is broad, attractive, and looks like he lives off one too many Invigoration Draughts a day. He greets Ghost with a manic smile in an attempt to act friendly, though the gesture isn’t at all helped by a body otherwise buzzing with energy. Everything about the man screams eccentricity, but then again—Ghost is a wizard. He’s always been bound to meet… interesting people.

“How much might you know about potions?”

Ghost blinks, genuinely surprised. Just from the stranger’s odd behaviour, Ghost had feared he’d earn a proposition, or that here, in the safety of the apothecary, the man would push to sell him something most probable to be illegal. 

But alas. An innocent question.

Ghost shoves the wiry bridge of his glasses further up his nose with his thumb, clears his throat. His fingers curl tight around the vial of mistletoe berries he holds as the stranger waits patiently for a reply.

“Well,” Ghost starts slowly, “considering I teach how to make them for a living, I would hope I’d know a thing or two.”

The man beams, eyes bright with gratitude Ghost is not yet worthy of.

“That’s perfect,” he says. “Then do you think you could help me with something?”

Politely, Ghost nods, though he has to wonder why the man hadn’t just gone to the shopkeep for advice first—but then, with a quick glance to the counter, he sees that said shopkeep is nowhere to be seen. His brows dip in a mild frown, not deep enough to be noticeable to anyone but Ghost himself.

“Alright, so—I have this hippogriff that I’ve been takin' care of and normally she isn’t so restless, but for whatever reason nothing I’ve done has worked to keep her calm for very long,” the stranger explains. “Potions are typically a last resort for me so I’m… I’m not sure what I should be making.”

“Uh,” Ghost says intelligently, sifting through his mind for an answer. He knows, he does, only, “I’ve never administered anything to something that wasn’t a wizard, but it should still work the same, with some adjustments.”

The stranger laughs. “‘It’ being…”

“Right, sorry.” Ghost clears his throat. His face warms with a blush, chest filled with passing embarrassment. He’s meant to be good, knowledgeable about these things. “The Draught of Peace. An anxiety reliever. But it’s a difficult potion to brew. You’d have to be experienced in potion-making to be certain nothing goes wrong.”

The stranger’s face falls. Ghost has already come to learn him to be rather expressive.

“Of course,” Ghost adds in a breath before he can stop himself. He isn’t sure why his mouth is still moving. “I could always make it for you.”

It's unfortunate that he can't find it in himself to regret the offer in any regard, after seeing the sheer and open look of hope it instills on the man's face.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

If your still taking request, it’s it okay if you can do yandere poly pavitr and gayatri x reader who used to get bullied alot(if you want to add it) and doesn’t mind their yandere tendencies nor doesn’t question it since this is the first time someone loved them cause they were always asked out as a joke and on a date, to the point that they thought no one would ever loved them(+if when yan pavitr and yan gayatri asked reader out, reader thought it was a joke and also thought they hated them cause when reader accidentally catch yan pavitr and yan gayatri staring at them, reader thought they were judging them so they were very nervous cause they thought they were gonna go through the bad treatment again)

𝙁𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙧 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚

Cw: poly!reader x lovesick!Pavitr Prabhakar x lovesick!Gayatri Singh, toxicity, normalization of abusive behaviors, socially outcasted reader, angst, Pav and Gayatri are not that bad before they start dating but reader is an unreliable narrator

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, once again, hoping the class would be over soon. You don't particularly dislike the subject, they're just very nervous by the staring. You transferred from your previous highschool due to the bullying two months ago, and despite your best efforts to avoid attracting any attention, you failed.

For the most part, people ignore you, no one's mean to you, and that's enough, but you shut down any attempt at socialization when you first arrived, dismissed all the cheery individuals who came to you in hopes of getting to know the new student, they complimented your hair, and the way the uniform looked on you, but you simply thanked them politely and left quickly, the memories of the fake smiles and cruel laughs were still fresh in your mind, thinking all those words were nothing but mockery.

Looking back, some of them seemed sincere, you regret not giving them a chance, maybe you wouldn't be spending the next recess alone if you did. You cut that line of thought, the irreparable truth dawn upon you, no matter how many chances you give, how many times you trust people, you don't seem to be important enough to anyone, always left behind or ridiculed, it seems to be a fact, a condition, something about yourself, that won't disappear, no matter where you are. So you know the staring is ill intentioned.

You wonder how it must feel to thrive in the spotlight, to feel "like a million dollars" when people state at you, knowing they watch in awe, admiration, something that clearly isn't your case. Why would these two people be staring at you for any other purpose than to make fun of you? They're popular, and beautiful, they have everyone fooled thinking they're nice, but you know better, you've seen this scenario play out many times, the guy is probably a jerk, no matter how nice he looks, and the girl probably makes so many empty compliments to people she doesn't care about. You know, you've seen what people like these are capable of, and you fear what they may have in store for you.

When the bell rings, you take your things and go to the schoolyard to spend recess, tables and hang out spots get filled with friend groups from many classes, all around your age.

You sit quietly in a mildly isolated spot and sit on your phone, scroll mindlessly trough instagram posts.

You feel a presence approaching, you straighten your spine like you've been caught red-handed, you try and emulate normality, like someone just walking towards you is a mundane part of your daily routine, so your eyes go back to your phone, and you try to relax your stiff muscles with encouraging words like "it's okay", "maybe they want to ask about the class", but your made up possible excuses grow useless as the two people that were staring at you, take a seat on the wooden bench next to you, one in each side. They say a few words before sitting, asking if the seats are taken and other questions that seem more rhetorical than anything.

They introduce themselves and try to strike conversation, the most awkward ten minutes of your life, as your answers shift from shy, to nervous, to fake friendliness to defensive and rude one-liners.

Sometimes they look into eachother's eyes, and you can feel that silent electricity in the form of secret messages and expression that due to societal consensus, can carry an entire conversation with just looks. You fear that. You don't posses the skills needed to realize this exchange, this telepathy.

And these conversations are the worst part, not content with invading your space and depriving you of a normal anxiety-free recess before the next period, they nonchalantly badmouth (or bad-eye?) you in your own face. And yes, you're sure it's bad, otherwise, they have no reason to hide it behind knowing smiles and glances, you're not stupid, you recognize they're making fun of you, but you don't want to stand up and leave, and maybe annoy or anger them enough to start being mean. What you have learned in the savagely cruel jungle of highschool socialization, there's the cats and there's the dogs, the dogs are nice to everyone but their victims, and launch to attack you as soon as they see you, they perceive certain things about others to be a threat to their precious social pyramid, so they act to protect it. Then there's the cats, you suspect that these two might be cats, cats are aware of their power within the other minionized working bees, (the ones that do not get any benefits from the stupidity of the social hierarchy, yet prefer to preserve it so they don't end up at the bottom of it) and don't want to attack or get their hands dirty, they enjoy watching bullied kids squirm in discomfort when they are "nice" only to amuse themselves with the anxiety and fear that their victim show, like a cat playing with an animal that's already agonizing and could be finished with a single strike, but they don't want to finish it, they want to see.

For weeks they toy with you this way, seeming infinitely entertained by your fidgeting and stammering, even getting close or throwing an arm over your shoulder just to see your reaction. You hate it, you hate them, you hate when they pretend to listen to you, or get you things to earn your trust, when they smile at you and offer to take you out with a fondness that seems to genuine you almost want to say yes. You hate how you had to stop bringing your sketchbook to school because it was filled with drawings of them, you hate the empty compliments and how you let your heart be fooled just for a little bit before going back to reality. You let yourself lift your feet off the ground just a bit, fly just a bit, thinking that you won't get hurt from that distance, but you become addicted. It doesn't matter if they're big or small highs, you crave their attention and thank heavens above that you don't really have to do anything, they come to you, you ignore that they're doing it to get a good laugh, because for a short moment that night after school, you look at yourself in the mirror while washing your teeth, and you let yourself think that maybe Gayatri was right, and your hair does look better out of your face.

But the bomb finally had to drop, the apple had to fall, the black cloud had to rain, the natural course of things had to be resumed, and they asked you out, not as a friend, like romantically asking you out.

"We wanted to do this more romantic, maybe at sunset or bring flowers, but you never go out after school with us, so this was kind of our only chance" Pavitr states with a lopsided smile that makes the little wrinkles and folds close to his eyes all the more visible, all the more beautiful.

You're trapped in this situation once again, it's a joke, but you have to proceed with caution, rejecting them can cause their pride to be hurt and that could backfire for you, accepting them is off the table, as you don't want to be the laughingstock more than you have already been in their presence, and calling out their bluff could have the same results as your first option, in other circumstances you just feign ignorance and they get too bored by how "dumb and dense" you are, leaving you alone, but this is a confession, this is way too straightforward to do that, so you decide to just buy time until you know what to do.

"I- uhm, this is really sudden and- I think I need to think about it, also I have super strict parents so that's that, and, uhm, I'll have an answer soon"

You hear their disappointed okay's and reassurances before leaving and heading to your house, the bus ride is torture. You knew this day would come, and you still let yourself be comfortable with their existence around you, you honestly would've preferred they were your friends instead, hiding feelings is much easier to deal with than being played this way.

You look at your reflection in the glass, and try to comprehend what is it about your humiliation that makes it so attractive, and what about your personality that makes it so unwanted. What's the point in these sick games people play on you and many others? What do you gain? You spend all that time trying to make someone trust you just to laugh at them behind their back? Everytime you had a friend, you felt like defending them with your life, and even knowing this was all a lie, you catched feelings for Pavitr and Gayatri, so why is it that they're so insensitive? They counted with you saying yes and they'd break your heart afterwards, how can they not feel bad? You continue to spiral.

When you came back to school, they didn't approach you for some time, you figure they accepted defeat and moved on to whatever other hobbies they had. But they still acknowledge you, they still smile at you, and you smile back. You think you finally decoded the secret messages you've seen your whole life. "Are you alright?", "I forgot my book", "it's cold outside" none of these things touch the subject that's keeping you three apart, but you love it too much to make it stop.

You start noticing how much your gloomy days lightened up since Gayatri and Pavitr came into your personal space, you notice how where once was a pillow to keep you from hitting yourself too hard, now there's the hard concrete beneath you, how you're self deprecating mental ramblings aren't stopped by a golden retriever like energy forcing you out the trance, how there's no one to tell you you should make your uniform more form fitting because you have cute shoulders. You notice that for all you tend to distrust and internally badmouth others, the worst company you've had so far, is yourself. You say honesty is the best policy and with that excuse you absolutely wreck yourself and ruin every nice thing you've ever had, you don't allow yourself to buy nice clothes because "it's expensive and you're ugly anyway", you never gave anyone a chance to get to know you in fear they'd bully you, rejecting everyone that came close. You should've waved back to that classmate that one time, you should've said yes to all those times Gayatri and Pav invited you to hang out, you should've actually listened to them talking instead of labeling everyone but you as untrustworthy and shallow. You, Y/N, have always been your personal and number one bully, when you thought you learned to toughen up and be more intelligent instead of naive, the only thing you learned was to replicate the behaviors of the ones hurting you. And even though you still don't believe those two actually want to date you, you are now aware of how pointless and cruel it had been to treat yourself and others the way you did. And now you miss them, now you wish you could go back to your first day here.

You didn't come back to them, and basically you ghosted them, not even looking them in the eye out of shame, you don't want to get hurt, but now you give them the benefit of the doubt, and it's horrible, all those things you thought, all those times you ditched them, you did it thinking it was just survival, that you were dealing with a couple of bored mean kids who latched onto you to mock you, but now your heart breaks thinking of all the genuine smiles you dismissed as a performance, and that the image you painted in your mind, where you were the foolishly in love victim of the heartless villains, could've been more like two people in search of true connection being unappreciated and dumped by someone too insecure and scared to even see them as human beings.

So when they come to you, when they apologize for making things awkward and just beg to spend time with you again, you feel like some sort of cold dictator.

"I shouldn't do this, but, why did you liked me?"

"Why shouldn't we? You're beautiful, and interesting, even though you tend to catch yourself mid-sentence and stop talking, it makes me so happy to see you explaining and ranting about things you like, and how you- sorry, this must be making you uncomfortable" Gayatri had leaned towards you, but after saying the last part, she straighted her spine in a movement all too similar to yours, you didn't like seeing her get away from you

"We're sorry we misinterpreted things, Y/N, but we'd still like to be your friends, not as a consolation prize, but I just really enjoyed spending time with you, and Gayatri did too" Pavitr also controlled his body language, he was usually so touchy and enthusiastic, but now he stands keeping his hands to himself, stiff like an english royal guard.

"I didn't want to hurt you... I realized that, well, I never really treated you with the respect you deserved, for the longest time I thought you were just going to, uhm, it doesn't matter, I'm sorry"

"You can tell us" Pavitr said, his presence eased you

"I thought you were asking me out as a joke, I thought that you were near me to... Laugh"

You expected them to be offended, to call you names and take back their apology, retrieve any sympathy they may have harbored for you, you accused them of something so ill intentioned when they hust wanted to be with you. But they just look at you with sadness, Pavitr sort of reaches for a hug, but stops himself, you notice this, and get close so he can wrap his arms around you, you tremble. Gaya joins, and you feel overwhelmed by the comfort and acceptance, your eyes let out a few tears.

Time passes and your relationship blossoms, you learn a lot of new things about relationships, for example, you learn more about communicating with glances, now you know exactly what they mean.

You know exactly what looks mean, "stop talking", "I don't like them", "don't go away". It seems kind of perfect, sometimes you feel like you're so happy and lucky you'll explode, so you cry, and they comfort you, it makes you feel heard, seen. You are also there to comfort them when they say love is too overwhelming, that they don't understand what else to do with all the love stored for their partners. Kissing so hard it feels like punching, hugging so tight that ribs make a cracking sound and break, all that intensity only makes you feel worthy, makes you feel loved like you've never been.

You had a tendency to compare human behavior to animals, and you keep doing it, because it makes sense, humans in its more raw form, are animals, so it's not surprising that feelings are so intense that they block out humanity, that loving is an animal desire. A love so pure that you can call it violent it's not something you see as wrong, as out-of-place, because that's the love you know, and it's the most perfect relationship you have ever seen.

You have never gotten into a fight, if someone doesn't trust a friend of yours, you simply cut them off, they'd do the same for you, and truth is that you don't have much desire to socialize either.

You never fight, you never yell, and you have two people who will always be on your side, that would jump off a cliff if asked, people who love you so much that they'll defend you from yourself, if you ever feel you owe an apology, they say you don't, in their eyes, you do no wrong, and you trust their judgement simply because you're the same.

You hope that one day you can love as intensely, because that's what they deserve from you.

[ereana]

Alhaitham/Cyno - In desperation

Sparks fly as metal screeches against metal. Cyno can’t even flinch from the brightness, he dare not. Not when his opponent isn’t giving him a moment’s reprieve. He has no time to do anything to react as another flurry of quick, precise slashes are unleashed against him.

“You’re just as impressive in reality as you are in his dreams, at least your combat abilities are.”  Cyno ducks as the blade suddenly changes direction for his neck, he turns the motion into a push with the blunt end of his spear in an attempt to put some space between them.

“If I sound surprised it’s because I am.” His assailant continues mildly. He sounds like he could be exchanging mild pleasantries over a meal instead of ruthlessly pushing Cyno back into a corner with every strike a potentially lethal one.

“He’s usually so rational and impartial when it comes to other people.” Cyno’s spear is parried away and he barely has time to dodge as a gleaming green sword plunges down towards his chest. “Of course there have been exceptions, his grandmother, the architect, the mercenary, the dancer, and the mysterious traveler, but even those unique few have only been slightly affected by his fondness for them. You on the other hand?”

Cyno jumps leaps backward onto the wall of the domain they’d found themselves in mentally urging Lumine and Dehya to find them soon. He’s not sure how long he can defend against a sustained assault like this with the wound across his side still bleeding.

Red drops hit the sand covered floor below.

Nearly as red as the eyes that stare up at him with a manic, almost hungry regard.

It’s wrong.

Alhaitham isn’t supposed to look like that. 

Whatever being or creature stands below casually spinning the sword on one hand is not his friend. Cyno knows that much.

But his voice.

“Oh you.” A deep chuckle that reverberates through Cyno’s bones.

It’s Alhaitham’s voice. His face. The intonation of his words.

“The way he thinks about you is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. The affection.” A red mirror soars towards him and Cyno is forced to jump on to a broken pillar carefully avoiding the shards of broken stone that stick upwards.

“The admiration.”

Another mirror nearly grazes his cheek mere millimeters below his eye.

“The attraction.”

Cyno’s side burns as he leaps again and he presses his hand to it while the thing in Alhaitham’s body is distracted with his speech. Electro charges along his fingertip to cauterize the wound. Cyno grits his teeth at the searing pain.

“The adoration.”

Two mirrors this time, aimed with a lazy flick of a hand that belies the speed which they shoot towards him.

Cyno is forced onto the ground once more.

A flash of red makes his heart sink. He’s seen that teleporting maneuver more times than he can say and he looks up to meet bright crimson staring at him with unnerving intensity.

The being grabs his chin harshly and yanks Cyno close. Cyno snarls at it.

“I don’t know what trick you’re trying to pull here but it won’t work. Let Alhaitham go.” He does nothing to hide the protective rage that drowns his words. Much easier to be angry than to lose himself in the fear of what has happened to Alhaitham while this entity wields his body like a weapon.

“Oh.” The thing raises an eyebrow and smirks. Cyno momentarily freezes because the expression is so damned familiar that his body betrays him. The sudden thumping of his heart rings loud in his ears and Cyno knows the other can hear it too by the way that smirk widens with glee.

“You think I’ve stolen him away? Imprisoned him in his own mind? You believe me to be an external force of some sort seeking to cause trouble in a borrowed body.” A finger presses on Cyno’s bottom lip before stroking it gently.

The softness of the touch sends his mind reeling with confusion.

“Not quite my dear General.” The thing leans down until there’s barely a hairsbreadth between their faces.

It’s Alhaitham’s face, the face that haunts Cyno’s dreams and thoughts with increasing frequency. He swallows, throat suddenly as dry as the sand they’ve been fighting on.

“He’s never mentioned me to you has he?” The thing shakes his head. “Stupid question, I know he hasn’t because he’s a coward. So afraid to put a name to what he feels for you, afraid you’ll look at him differently if you knew.”

Let it never be said that Cyno isn’t as much a scholar as any other graduate of the Akademiya.

“Knew what?”

Curiosity has always been their kind’s biggest flaw as well as their strength. A double edged sword that Cyno swings without knowing who it will cut.

The being smiles and moves closer until his next words are whispered directly into Cyno’s ear.

“That his little stunt with the Divine Knowledge capsule didn’t quite go to plan.”

Cyno’s blood turns to ice.

A hand grips his chin and tilts his face upwards and Cyno is forced to meet burning red eyes.

Alhaitham’s eyes full of madness, obsession and a ravenous desperation that lines every feature of his face.

“And that you can only cage a starving beast for so long when you’re careless with the key and set a meal before it.”

Cyno can’t speak, can’t breathe as a heated, hungry mouth seals over his own and lightning of a different sort shoots down his spine. 

How long has he dreamed of this?

Again Cyno’s body, along with his heart, betray him and he kisses back.

A  moment of weakness that will damn them both.

[magistralucis]

Miniature Painting Retrospective (2023)

2023 has been a hell of a year, but it had one upside to it, namely that this was the year I got into miniature painting. The downsides are money spent on plastics and paints and my ever-increasing piles of shame, but what mini lover doesn't deal with that 🤣

I'm a relatively new painter. I began painting in the second quarter of this year, and I haven't exactly done it every day or even every week, though I think I've improved greatly nonetheless. This is a retrospective post with some examples I've painted this year, what I learned, what I'd do better, and goals for the future.

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April 2023

Despite the many pages of ramblings on my blog, I did not actually get into miniatures because of Warhammer 40K, it was Dark Souls that got me to pull the trigger 😂 I love, love, love Dark Souls, when I realized there was a boardgame and people painted the plastic figures that came with them I had to get me some of that. I've actually posted these before on my DS sideblog, so if you've seen them around somewhere else 'twas I who was responsible, but these are the very first minis I've ever painted.

Siegward of Catarina was painted almost entirely with contrasts and metallics. I wanted to give him the really rusted look like Catarina Armour has in DS3. Solaire was painted similarly, except I didn't really get how to 'paint white' or 'paint yellow' or to use ink to fill in the sunface, so his chest is woefully incomplete. I thought of stripping him to start over, but have since decided against it; what I'll likely do is to get another Solaire and do the better job with that one. It's good to see where you began. Gives perspective.

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May 2023

I began properly looking up painting tutorials around this time. Coincidentally, this was the first time I began to really feel like I knew what I was doing 🤣

Eygon of Carim was painted almost entirely with drybrushing, save for the brown cloth, which was my first attempt at wet blending + adding wear and tear and scratches to simulate realism. He was drybrushed with a gunmetal grey then tinted with Black Templar for the majority of his dark armour, then drybrushed with silver to highlight the edges. His shield and mace followed the same procedure, except they were sponged with bronze later.

All of the models so far remain unbased to this day... I am not very good at remembering to base my models

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June 2023

Got into 6mm historicals (Anglo-Saxon/Vikings) during this period, which I don't have a picture of as those are currently in a storage box we stashed away for the Christmas holidays (guests staying over 😖).

Had another go at painting an Onion Knight, however, this time of Catarina Armour than Siegward specifically. Siegward has a longer Zweihander and a more detailed look. I wanted to give this version a clean look, and he was painted in a much more traditional style, following the base + shading + highlights + edge highlights method. No contrasts nor drybrushing, though the shield was mildly sponged with black. I'm proud of this one.

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July 2023

Got into Warhammer during this period. Had a break from painting as I tried to read and digest WH40K necron lores/novels, then became attracted to some of the full-size models, as well as building an army for Epic Armageddon. Shown above are some 6mm necron warriors, Immortals, Flayed Ones, and pariahs I painted as an example at this time. They are very, very small and very delicate and I love them your honour

I'm especially happy with the Flayed Ones. I'm actually using those to make a small Twice-Dead King diorama atm, I'll get some more made for the actual army. The pariah models have that warscythe design with a hole (?) in the middle but I... don't??? like the hole??? so I just filled them in with milliput and painted them up similarly to glaives instead

I also obtained a larger Dancer of the Boreal Valley model. She is in the pile of shame. I am afraid to begin painting her now that I've been staring at her for so long 😖😖😖

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August - September 2023

I............. ghghgghgghggg

The pile grows. At least I gave Orikan his green marble interior design???

Started doing 28mm historicals in early Sep. When it comes to the actual gaming aspect of this hobby, I have played way more historicals than I've ever played Warhammer or the Dark Souls Boardgame; I play SAGA with my sig. other, and he got me into Chain of Command, though I'm playing solely with the models he painted for that one (since he has been in this hobby for many, many more years than I). Here's a berserkr I painted and based up. NMM chainmail and glazed fur detail, the rock/ground based with cork.

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September 2023

Still doing historicals. My Viking warlord, rock based with foam, need to add some grass on there or something. Otherwise very very happy with how he turned out. I keep going back and forth between giving him a shield, since I love painting shields, but I also don't want to obscure the main details of his body. All metallic details are NMM.

Note the scabbard and the glint of his sword. I'm not super good at NMM yet, but I can do tiny glints and details like these.

An example of general warriors, huscarls, etc. I have about 50 men in varying states of completion. These are all Victrix models. Every one of those shields are freehanded. They make for very good practice because they're a nice, well-defined flat surface. I'm really proud of those.

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October - November 2023

My beloved Tea Space Marine brothers 😂☕ I've posted about those before (x, x, x) - the Arizona Tea dude is not yet done because I actually need to give him a banner and paint up his base, and during December I was too occupied with other creative activities to work on him. They are the first Space Marines I've ever painted and tbh I don't find them the easiest to paint (???) but they're some of the best fun I've had so far!

I want to make a whole series of those, not just of Space Marines or even the Imperium. I might do more porcelain, they're really fun to pose next to tea-things. The teacup Marine was painted a gloss white (after being primed not-white 😨) then freehanded with royal blue, with Retributor Armour being the gold. The Arizona Tea Marine was painted emerald with pink edges, tinted in places with Magos Purple, then freehanded with various shades of plum blossom-esque colours. Still wondering what design his banner ought to be.

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That's it for 2023. Next year I want to do the following things.

Finish up the Epic Armageddon necron army, complete with vehicles (300-400 points).

Finish the Dancer of the Boreal Valley statuette (because that's what she is at that scale, she's the biggest model I have, it's part of why I got intimidated lmao).

Get better at NMM.

Apply aforementioned NMM techniques to necrons on the pile of shame that are not painted.

Learn how to airbrush.

Obtain at least 6 points' worth of guys for a SAGA Viking army, then paint them up and base them properly.

Base my minis properly, full stop 🥴

Looking forward to some fun painting sessions next year!!! 💖

[shamelessliarkickapow]

Arrvatarr! The Last Arrbender!

It's a Zutara pirates au!

Chapter 1, part 3/3

Read the full chapter on AO3

Or read it on tumblr:

Part 1 Part2

“Uncle, no!”

Katara could tell from the widening of those asymmetrical yellow eyes and the tenor of the Fire Prince’s voice that he genuinely loved this old man. It might have been sweet, that affection for his elder relation, had it not been coming from what was obviously one of the worst people on the planet.

“I am Iroh, a venerated general,” the old man went on without a glance at the prince, “and the Fire Lord’s only brother. He is sure to pay handsomely for my safe return. You should ransom me and let my nephew take his ship and leave.” 

“River boat,” Sokka corrected. “Because we’re sinking the ship.”

That aged face bowed slightly in acceptance. Katara could not read the careful mask of his lined features. 

“Toph,” Suki asked, never taking her eyes from the enemies before her. “What do you think?”

Toph was frowning, gripping the gunwale behind her with her unburned hand. Katara could see how red that burned palm was where it hovered near her belly. Not blistering yet, and not scorched, but it must hurt terribly. Healing had to wait, though.

“He’s...” Toph’s unseeing eyes narrowed like what she was getting was confusing, but then her expression relaxed and she smirked very faintly. “A little truth, a little lies. But who cares? Why don’t we just ransom them both?”

“Good thinking,” Sokka said with a spreading smile. “Double ransom! I love it almost twice as much!”

The old man, Iroh’s eyes were flicking between them, taking them in with shrewd cunning. They paused on Aang and finally came to rest on Katara. “Is one of you the captain,” he asked mildly, “or is this some kind of collective or something?”

“There’s no captain,” Katara said quickly before Sokka could launch into his twelve-point lecture on why he should be in charge. “We don’t need a captain to come to a consensus.” She looked back at Sokka and Suki. “Double ransom works for me. Suki?”

Suki went on watching the old man closely. “I don’t like the idea of two firebenders in the brig. Twice as much trouble if they get loose.”

“Well,” Aang weighed in carefully, still finding his feet in the group dynamic, “the Fire Nation - I mean, you know, historically - highly values honor and an honor-bound oath is generally considered unbreakable...”

“Nice!” Sokka turned a wide, knowing grin on the two firebenders in question. “Swear on your honor that you won’t try to escape.”

“No,” the prince sneered. “How stupid do you think we are?”

“I swear on my honor that I will not attempt to escape,” the old man said.

“Uncle!”

Toph grinned. “Oh, he means that. What are you gonna do, Prince Pretty-hair? Let this old guy get taken hostage on his own?”

“Don’t call me that! It’s Prince Zuko, you uncultured little boor!”

“Actually, Toph’s a boar,” Sokka corrected, delighting in his own clever wordplay and peering around at the rest of them with a ‘get it?’ look. “As in flying? As in Bei Fong?”

Aang laughed. “Good one, Sokka!”

“She’s almost too cultured to be a pirate,” Sokka went on smugly, “but we gave her special permission because she’s so cool.”

“Yeah,” Toph said and spat on the deck. “I’m a fancy lady just like you.”

“Rraugh!”

Katara watched the prince roar out dazzling flames that briefly drove back the night and lit up his furious face and the strong column of his throat and his pale, muscular chest between the bands of steel that held him. He really was cut like a statue, his body a weapon well-honed for combat. 

She wasn’t, like, attracted to him or anything; he was evil and he represented everything she hated and sought to fight in the world... but the sight of him - the hot spark of his element in combination with the precise, powerful movement of his body - was... kind of exciting. 

And watching him get teased into a fury was amusing, too.

Abruptly, Katara realized the old man was watching her. Whatever he saw on her unguarded face, it must have been telling. His eyes were a little wide in surprise that swiftly morphed into a sort of contained delight. Before Katara could become fully embarrassed, Iroh spun around to peer up at his nephew with wide, guileless eyes, holding out his hands beseechingly.

“Prince Zuko, you must see reason! Surely you will not leave me to suffer alone at the hands of these dastardly scoundrels!”

The prince broke from his rage to gape at his uncle in stunned incredulity. Then he huffed and rolled his eyes and ground out words through his clenched teeth. “No..! Uncle, I wouldn’t leave you, but-”

“Then you must swear on your honor to not attempt an escape,” the old man cried, clutching his hands to his chest. “After all, we will only be held captive by these ruthless criminals for the time it takes the ransom demand to be answered.”

There was something in the prince’s eyes. Confusion, reluctance, hurt. “The Fire Lord-”

“I know, my nephew,” he said more gently. “His response is sure to come quickly. I have no doubt we will be free again in a matter of days.”

Katara glanced at Toph and found her squinting, still reading the conversation. Whatever subtext was passing between the two firebenders, she wasn’t picking up on any outright lies. But still, it was kind of a weird exchange.

“Perhaps,” the old man went on, “if we cooperate, these ruffians will not subject us to any cruel misuse.” Slowly, he turned a speculative eye back on them - and paused on Katara in particular. “But who can say with pirates?”

Katara screwed up her face and shrugged combatively back at him as if to say What did I do?

“Tch. They’re hardly pirates at all,” the prince muttered testily. 

He followed his uncle’s stare though and Katara felt again the prickling warm wash of his scrutiny. 

Katara was very familiar with lustful stares. She had blushed under the eyes of a great many boys and men in her long journey with Sokka and then Suki and, later, Toph. She had explored and pruned attraction into friendship with so many steady Earth Kingdom boys. She had watched desire fade from the eyes of Northern tribesmen when she so much as hinted at her ambitions. She had endured predatory assessments that came at the front end of a fight and wilted away by the end. (The heat snuffed right out of most firebenders when they realized she was the stronger bender.)

Not this firebender, though. Even when she beat him, he wasn’t beaten. Not really. He simply refused to be done. So annoying. 

So exciting.

The way this prince, Zuko, looked at her... it was subtly different from any of those other men or boys who came before. His eyes didn’t linger obviously on her body. He didn’t undress her with his eyes. He didn’t lick his lips or hitch a brow or smirk knowingly or secretly stroke his stalk of grass with his tongue. There was almost no sign at all that there was desire there. But Katara could feel it when his yellow eyes fixed on her and narrowed. It was just there, like seething coals tucked under swaddles of ash in the cook pit, ready and hungry and waiting to be stoked... should an inferno become desired.

“Fine.” Prince Zuko said it with a hard, sardonic quirk of his lips, as if this was all some pointless exercise, the end result of which he already knew. “I swear on my honor I won’t try to escape.”

Katara, for reasons she hadn’t entirely hammered out yet, smirked.