#for something so ultimately mundane:

[alpineig]

I kinda hate how much language learning content mysticizes other langauges... like girl they're just langauges. Yeah they're hard to learn and take some time but like... there a langauge. Like people jsut speak it yk. Its not some mystical thing that is impossible to understand.

Like example: Spanish subjunctive. Yeah, for an English speaker that's weird and odd and a new thing. But also, its just... a part of language. Like you know that English phrasal verbs are weird to non english speakers right? Like fill something in is weirddd and hard if you're not familiar with English. But like you still use it.

Idk i just think people overly mysticize foriegn languages (and I bet it happens to English too) but like girl they're just languages.

[rxttenfish]

Omg what DOES Aaravi do as a monster slayer?

the short answer is that it varies with how much of my own stuff im willing to bring in, im afraid

mostly im waffling back and forth on this point right now because if i was a little closer to monster prom canon i might be able to have more fun with it and include a wider variety of situations and it wouldnt be such a downer as it would be in the other case...

mostly, the thing that monster slayers are in the redesign universe is a hate group, plain and simple. a particularly violent and nasty one too, at that - they're focused primarily out of human-majority societies and cultures that have much smaller minorities of other sophonts and/or that contact with those sophonts is new and recent, hence why there's such a strong sorting between "humans" and "monsters". "monsters" isn't a real category in any sense of the word, it's just a social marker for an out-group that is seen as particularly dangerous and frightening and, thus, "not normal". this is also why it doesn't really specify between monsters that are sophonts and monsters that are just normal animals...

primarily this hate group arose out of existing environmental/hunting groups, semi similar to things like forest rangers, and has even common ancestry with witches (or, one of the definitions of "witch"... witch can refer to a human with some innate workable magic, witch can refer to anyone who works with/studies magic as a job, or witch can refer to a supernatural concept/creature which is basically just the trope we have of the witch, as any malignant supernatural person who uses that supernatural prowess for evil. this is different from magic, because magic in this universe is just... another Thing That Exists, not necessarily any different from, say, engineering as a job or study, and belief in the impossible and supernatural is of course going to exist unrelated to that).

as in, there's a fairly universal need in most communities to be able to manage magic somehow. usually there's wildlife or plants that have their own innate pools of workable magic, and those need to be treated and handled differently as a different form of danger in the world, or there's magical aquifers locally, which means that all of that magic is just available as free energy to be used by anyone who has the chance to grab it, and if workable pools of magic aren't regularly maintained to recycle the magic that makes it up, then it can build up wild magic and tends to explode particularly dangerously... so you need someone who has learned how to deal with all of that, and so you get the origins of witches, and the origins of other people specializing to deal in magic and magic-heavy things, and from that you get people specialized in hunting or otherwise managing animals that utilize magic in their biology in some way.

(which, to be fair, nearly everything on this alternate earth is, in some way. magic really is just... free energy for anyone who can grab a little of it, and most life will be able to at least do a little bit of that. humans are a prime example, since even non-innate magic users will still hold and maintain very small pools of magic internally, utilized primarily for metabolism and to offer a slight boost to the immune system and other such things. this is even what souls and ghosts are - just the pools of magic inside of a person that can get shaken loose through particularly traumatic events, although the systems that lead to ghosts are poorly understood (and also different from a soul, the animating supernatural concept... theres a lot of confusing terminology in this universe, and i do that on purpose). it's just that species that either live in or around magical aquifers or are uniquely adapted for it that are magic specialists, where it makes up a much larger part of their biology, and who cannot live without that magic. a human without magic might just be slightly immunocompromised, a demon without magic is dead!)

this is where you get monster slayers, though. because they were a specific movement within this larger group of people who focus on magical life, where they particularly focused on the danger posed by magic specialist wildlife during a time when nonhuman sophonts were being introduced to and "challenging" the dominant culture where they came from, and ended up connecting the two. it's a purposefully very messy grouping without a lot in common other than this specific group targeting them, and their primary goals might be similar to creating and enforcing a human-only community devoid of large, dangerous wildlife around that area that could possibly injure someone. the fact that this also ends up targeting a lot of disabled humans (vampires, zombies, etc, they're just humans who have a specific magic-derived "virus". there's very few benefits to this, it really is just a disability) isn't seen as a problem either in their eyes, mostly because they're also often stereotyped as being dangerous or endangering other people by their sheer presence, so they get sorted in with the other targeted groups as well.

there's also a lot of people and things that we have in real life that would get labelled "monsters" in this specific line of belief, even if i haven't gone into that as much, mostly because i worry that people will think that because i'm writing aaravi as sympathetic that i'm supporting her beliefs or the beliefs of monster slayers too - or that, again, i'm still just in the awkward middle ground where i'm not sure how much i want to go into this and REALLY kill the mood.

(also, because it does kind of miff me when people write fantasy settings but provide some kind of distinction between real wildlife and fantasy monsters in a way that shouldn't actually exist in that fiction. lions and tigers and bears should be considered just as dangerous and frightening as any speculative creatures you put in your work, especially when there's not any one unique feature that tidily separates the world into "animals" and "wildlife". hell this is even what i try to get at with my merfolk, since they really aren't any different from humans, as just another naturally formed sapient animal species.)

and, to be clear, i WANT this to be upsetting. it shouldn't be something comfortable or easy to talk about, let alone witness. it's something that also has to be seen and judged and understood in order to understand aaravi herself, just as much as how you can't understand miranda unless you understand what it actually means for her to be a genocidal monarch who expresses ultimate control over anyone who happens to be under her and is willing to do anything to maintain control in the groups of her equals. for both of them, they're supposed to equally be representative of those who suffer by and under the system they are a part of (aaravi is not allowed to leave the monster slayers even if she wanted to, her being discovered as half-human would mean her potentially being targeted and killed and her family potentially also targeted for association, having her entire self worth tied to her ability to lose her own personhood and perpetuate violence that no one else is capable of or wants to do, or else be blamed as the reason why innocent people get hurt and killed), while also actively perpetuating it (both have a vitriolic hatred of anyone who either "can't do their job correctly" or "isn't hard enough to withstand the pressures of their job", aaravi especially targets and is quick to punish other slayers to try and cover her also being "part monster", she upholds and feels incredibly defensive over her family name and how great her family was at being slayers, she hunts and kills a lot of other people just for them not being human that makes them even more guarded and scared of humans and more likely to retaliate in order to try and keep themselves safe, which also means its harder for anyone else to stop being a monster slayer because even more taboo gets connected to them or being one).

a prime example is actually her grandma, who is still around. aaravi's from a line of monster slayers, which is to say her family was already in this hate group, they were born into it, and aaravi was just the latest in the long line of it all. her mom did work on trying to get out, did meet aaravi's dad and left to where no one else in the group knew where she was, where she could try to start anew and they wouldn't be able to find her, to have a family with someone who she had been taught to view as nothing but dangerous and frightening and not someone to be trusted... and then he turned out to be a garden variety asshole who just... left. never really was very interested in aaravi or salil, got bored with aaravi's mom once she tried settling down after getting out, didn't really do much to support her in trying to remake her life from a brand new foundation, and just left one day without a note or saying anything or anything at all, really.

all of which served as mundane trauma that pushed aaravi's mom back into the monster slayers even harder. it just confirmed a lot of old beliefs that she had burned into her mind after not really helping her to undo or confront them, and she had very little else left to go back to, and she had two kids now that if anyone else learned were the result of her having a tyst with a monster would get hurt and killed as much as she would, serving as a representation of the mistake that had just been confirmed in her mind as such.

it's why it came down on salil so much harder than aaravi, and why aaravi looking so nearly human is so important for the way the story functions. aaravi got pushed harder and harder to both try and make up for her mother's mistake, pushed to become another monster slayer and pushed even harder to be a GOOD one that would be great enough to make up for all that her mother had done while still living up to the legacy that her mom could only think of herself as having ruined, to shove all her monster parts into a deep dark little box that she would never tell anyone else about, who was told over and over how dangerous it was and what would happen if this got out. but salil... salil is much more obviously inhuman, much more obviously something that she can't hide or obscure, and so salil kind of...

well, already their mom was reverting hard onto "all monsters are dangerous and cannot be trusted and NONE of them are EVER going to be good, only lie about it to hurt you even worse", and there was a lot harder... fear, from her, that he picked up on. really, both of them picked up on it, and still aaravi doesn't know and is terrified of the possibility that their mom was scared of them, or thought that they would hurt her, or even outright hated them for being monsters. and because salil was much more obvious about it, a lot more got targeted and felt by salil, a lot more their mom tried a lot less with him, a lot more she just tried to hide him in the house and not tell anyone about him or that he existed. its why when he ran away one night, it was very easy for her to come to the conclusion that he had been found and killed by monsters, and it was very easy for that belief to be passed onto aaravi.

it's also why aaravi's grandma has such a... particular situation. she was also such a prominent monster slayer within that community and group for so long, and so many of the leaders within the community think back fondly of her, but its this very same reason that she can't talk about the amount of doubt she's also felt about it, the mounting regrets and guilt that has built up, the knowledge of what happened to her daughter and to her grandkids, and the knowledge that she can't really DO anything to help it either, even AS someone who holds such an esteemed position and even BECAUSE of it. she's effectively just built up more and more distance from the community over time, isolated herself more and more from these old friends of hers, gone quietly silent in her old age, but its also why shes never been able to fully shake it, and why that connection STILL exists and shes STILL expected to uphold it when it does. she's older than she used to be, more vulnerable, and she has a granddaughter who doesn't have a mom or a dad anymore to look after her, who is at least part of what monster slayers want to exterminate, and there's a lot at stake here that she just can't make herself risk.

so, yeah... i hope this provides a little bit of clarity as to what aaravi in the full redesign verse being a monster hunter MEANS and what she does, because it's not... very pretty, really.

if i write it, i'll likely end up focusing more on the animal side of it, least of all because i can't see aaravi taking miranda on a hunt for a person, but also because it adds in more layers of aaravi feeling disingenuous and doubting herself. she feels like she's lying to miranda, making it more palatable, more acceptable, than it really is, not showing her the full thing and letting herself be judged as is, but also aaravi is ABSOLUTELY not prepared for that conversation and doesn't know how to breach the subject of "i'm basically a serial killer for hire" with miranda, and is equally as scared by the thought of what if miranda actually DOESN'T have a problem with that and doesn't react. but it's also just close enough to still hit that uncomfortable realm with aaravi, just close enough to killing a person that she keeps seeing herself in the eyes of the wildlife, doesn't know which end of the gun she's more scared of being on and doesn't know how to handle any of it.

[personapeters]

✰ 𝐛𝐟!𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐱 𝐩𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞!𝐠𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

— rich boyfriend rafe and his whole heartedly pogue girlfriend

rating: sfw — cw: none

— boyfriend!rafe who… actually gets annoyed when you spend your money instead of his: “look, baby, i know you can but why when i’m literally throwing my card at you?” he questioned. “i’m not taking it, rafe,” you rebutted. “yeah? okay, don’t,” he mumbled, casually dropping a banded stack of cash onto your lap.

— boyfriend!rafe who… absolutely judged a book by it’s cover when you first met, knowing you were from a side of town he didn’t favor, but your beauty was something he couldn’t ignore. though, his outlook barely shifted; technically, not all pogues were trash, but he considered you to be the one and only exception.

— boyfriend!rafe who… is used to getting what he wants, so he was highly taken aback when you declined his first offer to go out. it was new and completely foreign, but it only made him want you even more — he’s always had a desire to obtain the ‘unobtainable’

— boyfriend!rafe who… caught so much shit from topper and kelce when they found out about his relationship with a pogue; so much so that rafe almost fought them over it, telling them to ‘get the fuck over it’ and to never speak on you again.

— boyfriend!rafe who… on occasion would reluctantly let your pogue friends go out on his yacht with the two of you for the day, which ultimately would end with him dropping them off an hour (or four) early. he wants them miles away from his pristine boat but loves how happy you look when you were all together.

— boyfriend!rafe who… hears you mention liking something once and makes sure it’s in your hands before the following day ends. they were always simple things like a cute t-shirt or sunglasses, which, to him, were so cheap and mundane that he found it rather adorable when you’d cherish them like literal gold.

— boyfriend!rafe who… isn’t too fond of where you live — your house being small, somewhat falling apart, and overall something far below rafe’s standards. he wishes you’d take him up on his offer to simply get you an apartment on his side of town: “okay, but it’d be so much better for you… and you’d be closer to me,” he mumbled, a small smile pulling at the corners of his pink lips.

— boyfriend!rafe who… takes you riding on his dirt bike to go sightseeing across figure eight, often taking the long way home just to feel your arms wrapped around his waist for just a little longer. you once asked if you could drive it, which would have been your first time, to which he immediately said, “fuck no, what — you tryin’ to break your neck? no.”

— boyfriend!rafe who… tried his first ever boxed mac and cheese with you, as random as it was, after you insisted it’s the greatest inexpensive food on earth; him beforehand saying, “what? y/n, that’s fucking powder…” but after he tried a bite of yours, he reluctantly said, “it’s not that bad… i might see the appeal.”

— boyfriend!rafe who… gives you ‘ultimatums’ when buying you clothes (although, you always insist you don’t need them), saying he’ll get you whatever you want as long as you try on some of his picks first. he would have gotten whatever you wanted regardless, he just liked seeing you model for him, which, secretly, you knew.

— boyfriend!rafe who… buys you extremely expensive jewelry and lies about the price, saying it’s a hundred times cheaper than it is to avoid you trying to give it back. he enjoys watching the dainty bracelet on your wrist or gold studs in your ears glint in the sunlight, knowing that you’re clueless on that fact that they’re the nicest money could buy — he needs only the best for his girl.

— boyfriend!rafe who… truly hated physical touch until you showed him it could be gentle — that it could be sweet, and warm, and kind, and didn’t have to leave him bloody or sore. he loves when you run your nails gingerly across his scalp or hold his hand in your lap, twisting absentmindedly at the rings adorning his long fingers; a type of touch (and love) he’d never felt before

— boyfriend!rafe who… craves your validation, no matter how big or small. he just needs to hear that he did something right, something good, something you’re proud of. he wants to hear you tell him he did a great job at making you dinner or picking out a dress for your spontaneous outings — your approval means so much more to him than you’d ever know.

— boyfriend!rafe who… uses his high status to (begrudgingly) help your pogue friends get out of whatever trouble they land themselves into, knowing it means alot to you and takes a weight off your shoulders: “m’doing this for you, alright? not them, you.”

— boyfriend!rafe who… is pretty heavy on pda. he doesn’t care whose watching when he lazily drapes a possessive arm around your shoulders, or when he kisses you messily with full force; whether it be a kook or pogue witnessing his shameless affections, he didn’t care — who’d dare to say something about it?

 personapeters 2024 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[kentoruuu]

Gardening- husband!satoru x housewife!reader

warning- smut

as your relationship with satoru progressed so did his temptations he witnessed himself becoming aroused at the most mundane moments as he saw you slowly becoming used to and enjoying becoming a housewife

one of his favs was watching you early in the morning tend to your hydrangeas and tulips and your ever most favorite your peonies who always received extra care and love, from the two story bedroom window where satoru could see everything

it was a routine at this point watching closely at the sight of your delicate and tender work feeling the occasional twitch of his cock in his pants

your pretty supple bra less tits bouncing as you patted the fertilizer in the ground allowing him a beautiful look down you pretty white dress and an amazing view while on your knees

the way your gloved fingers massaged and manipulated the dirt

the way you’d manage to get a little spectacle of dirt on your cheek

the way your back arched as you bent over to inhale the delicate scent of flowers

he adored the passion you had for gardening

but no matter what… the most important most delicate and ultimately favorite flower of all resided between your legs

the thought of taking you, using you right there in the pretty flowers the thought of ruining something so delicate next to something equally as precious was so tempting

oh did poor satoru wish

“careful baby” he’d coo, giving a harsh slap to your cheek “wouldn’t want to destroy your perfect peonies”

“i know you can be good f’me and take it all” shoving another finger in your sopping wet cunt

“b-but toru” you whine “c-can’t too sens— oh fuck!”

he slams his fingers in you harder “mmh there you go baby let it all out for me”

your gloved hands gripped the bark, your back arched way too much bringing you almost crashing down on your hydrangeas

your whole body was melting into his touch

“did so good for me baby” pulling your body closer too his, fixing your disheveled look before placing a kiss on your face and entering back into the house

“see you inside for breakfast” he winked, leaving you sweaty and tired

he loved seeing something as sweet as you get dirty which is another reason why he loved your hobbies

[sunderwight]

Headcanon that Shen Yuan was hotter than Shen Qingqiu, actually.

Like yeah SQQ being a cultivator gave him a boost to enough attributes + being in a stallion novel where everyone is either unrealistic hot or dog's butt ugly got the Shen Qingqiu body extra points, and he wasn't bad looking to begin with. Plus not being ill is vastly more important to the new Shen Qingqiu than those extra hotness points (Without a Cure notwithstanding). But part of the reason why he's kind of like, meh, at least I'm not hideous or anything, is because Shen Yuan's original body was a knock out.

I also like him as chronically ill, and, as many people know, beauty standards and sustained suffering are not as incompatible as they should be. Shen Yuan was conventionally attractive in part because conventional beauty standards seem to want everyone slowly dying all the time. But even setting that aside, the man had flawless bone structure, an appealing figure, captivating eyes, and the kind of voice that stopped people in their tracks.

All of which was a contributing factor to his antisocial lifestyle, actually. Despite the fact that Shen Yuan does enjoy company and requires a certain baseline of social enrichment for his enclosure, his internalized homophobia and closeting did not play well with overtures from interested parties (regardless of gender). The only way to minimize the odds of him being asked out on dates was to essentially become a shut-in, especially since even Shen Yuan can only make so many excuses before he himself starts to notice that he's going to a lot of effort to avoid specifically that avenue of socialization. Far better to just remove himself from any risk of it, and then vocally lament that oh no he's just too much of a nerd to get anywhere with women!

Anyway this largely doesn't matter much outside of sheer comedy potential for any situation where SY gets his old body/life back. Like imagine a reveal scenario where the System is going to transport them back to their old lives.

Shang Qinghua: well bro I guess this is gonna be the ultimate test of love, right?

Shen Yuan: what do you mean?

Shang Qinghua: our husbands are gonna see what we looked like back before we were glorious cultivators! they're going to have to track us down in our mundane, kinda shitty pre-transmigration lives! it's gonna be at least a little embarrassing, right?

Shen Yuan: *gets his old body back*

Shang Qinghua, normal human with average looks: ...

Shen Yuan, exemplary 11/10: ?

Shang Qinghua: what. the fuck?? bro what the fuck why are you hot???

Shen Yuan: don't make it weird

Shang Qinghua: make it weird??? why were you sitting at home reading my shitty novel when you could have been out there building your own harem???

Shen Yuan: stop exaggerating

Shang Qinghua: oh my god you've always been like this. this is it, isn't it? it wasn't even brain damage from the transmigration or something--

Shen Yuan: hey

Shang Qinghua: --you've just always been completely unaware, haven't you? every time I wrote a beautiful woman who didn't know her own appeal you'd be jumping down my throat--

Shen Yuan: because that's a stupid trope--!

Shang Qinghua: --JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT EXACTLY LIKE THAT but this whole time THIS WHOLE TIME it wasn't even a glow-up issue, you've just been that, personified, yourself--

Shen Yuan: look I know I'm not ugly but I'm not I'm hardly that good-looking

Shang Qinghua: YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO CRITICIZE THAT TROPE AGAIN! oh my god. how many broken hearts did you leave behind when you died?!

Shen Yuan: none, I wasn't even seeing anyone--

Shang Qinghua: yeah full offense but I am nottt taking your word for that. I bet you had a harem you didn't know about in this lifetime too. I bet you had a fan club, like an anime prince

Shen Yuan: *mumbling*

Shang Qinghua: what was that?

Shen Yuan: I said... only in high school...

Shang Qinghua: oh my god

Shen Yuan: it wasn't a big deal!

Shang Qinghua: *frantically trying to see if he can find any trace of it on the internet now*

[astromeda22]

Mars in the Signs, or:

The Divine Maculine Instinct ❤️‍🔥

ㅤꨄ︎ Astromeda's RomanticAstro Special ㅤꨄ︎

❤️‍🔥

If anything, I'd like to think of Mars as the divine masculine instinctive behavior. It can be male or male identifying but actually even if you are a straight woman, you might relate! So that is: regardless of their s*xual orientation or asigned gender, we all have this side to our selves.

❤️‍🔥 Mars in the Signs, or: The Divine Maculine Instinct ❤️‍🔥

Mars in Aries

Upfront, acts swiftly and tends to be quite direct when something catches their attention. Playful and will definitely try to impress someone they likes with bold moves. Can get restless if things feel too calm for too long so this is one placement which could stir drama. Also drawn to confident, lively people who keep life interesting and experiences that makes him feel this way. Dom vibes be warned here, no jokes, no escape.

Mars in Taurus

Not a chaser of anything. Will drop a tempting suggestion if it's not up to their standard (venusian influence) These types can frustrate, but they don't give mixed signals if they like someone, because of their steadiness. Expects utmost loyalty, wow. Also lowkey hates being rushed, so if you're into such a guy, be careful here and take your time too. and give them massages and luxury feelings - can be anything not literally branded stuff which they can detest if it's not up to their standards.

Mars in Gemini

Sassy. Usually the best in the game of pickup lines - they'd just believe in themselves. If well aspected to inner planets like mercury, can also be quite good in elevator's pitch (shorts sales' pitch) - they enter an interview room and can just 'get the vibe' and tune in confidently. Can gaslight quite harsh if nagatively aspected. But can also say the most outrageusly nice things when you least expect it!

Mars in Cancer

Kinda hard for them to do anything without the right feeling. They can be somewhat submissive to life in general once they feel like it. 'accept the blessings' kinda person. they fight with a surprising ferocity. For them, loyalty is the ultimate motivator. also, feed and hug them to get them to do what you want ok?

Mars in Leo

More proud than anyone else. Feel born to make an impression. When they want someone, this person will know it. In work situations, they prefer to shine through leadership and creativity, and can lowkey dread the mundane if they won't get the praising. If they'll get praised they will act as if the world is watching. Pride and admiration are their strongest fuels.

Mars in Virgo

Timid. Precise. OK they can be super good when it comes to working out every fine detail. There's no waste of effort here. When they’re into someone, they notice every detail and subtly make life easier for them, so acts of service is a very common theme here. At work, they prefer efficiency over drama, but when they have to sweat for something, they’ll dig in with a perfectionist’s focus until every piece is exactly right. Their drive is in the details. meticulous in every act they deliever everything if you know what i mean.

Mars in Libra

Charming and socially tuned. Graceful unless some detail or 'vibe' is wrong. So graceful most of the time they put the bestvibes in the planettt. When they like someone, they engage through beauty, balance, and making the other person feel truly special. They fight strategically, 7th house is huge on making contracts so they can be good lawyers lol you kinda want this person on your side. Ensuring every move still looks polished. For them, victory is best when it’s elegant so they could even minimize it at times!

Mars in Scorpio

Intense... and then there's more intensity underneath! Phew... if you are in this person's view and they actually really fancy you, they can become so obsessed it scares even them occasionally. Then, there's the loyalty thing, similiar to Mars in Taurus, but more... deep? It's less about physical security here, it's about soul security. so if you make one really wrong move which proves you are disloyal or insensitive, this relationship is over for them no jokes. Stirs drama for life. Detest doing anything that's not soul-level-right for them so won't sweat it for nothing.

Mars in Sagittarius

Restless but quite big on optimism, which is good. crave movement (how far is dependent on house) and freedom. When they’re falling for someone, they are super adventurous and share their big-picture visions. Doesn't like routines but can attack a mission with bursts of enthusiasm, then look for the lesson in the challenge. Optimism fuels their fight mechanism as well as some amount of riskiness.

Mars in Capricorn

Controlled, focused, and deeply ambitious — they measure every move. When they like someone, they may take their time to commit, but once in, they’re steadfast. Professionaly they’re built for long-term effort, and when they have to sweat for something, they do it methodically, never losing sight of the end goal ooohh really don't test this person they can go steady for what they crave for years on end. Their strength is endurance in the face of pressure.

Mars in Aquarius

Unpredictable and even ahead of the curve. they follow their own rules. Fall hard for intellectuals. Like bonding through sharing ideas, and respect for individuality. At both relationships and in the office, they prefer freedom so keep some healthy or even 'avoidance' type distance if it's your lover and innovation, but if they have to sweat for something, they’ll find a unique, sometimes unconventional route to get it done. They fight best for causes they believe in!

Mars in Pisces

Gentle, intuitive, and quietly persuasive — they move with the currents rather than against them. When they like someone, they express it through kindness, small gestures, and deep emotional understanding. Might avoid intense confrontation, but when they have to sweat for something, they tap into creativity and quiet persistence to see it through. Compassion is their greatest motivator - they can be quite lazy if their emotions aren't stirred.

❤️‍🔥

As always, hope you enjoyed it ꨄ︎

Love, Astromeda

[yamumsyadadd]

anxiety

Mentions of cheating, sex (nothing graphic)

There was a level of anxiety that came with a new relationship. You and alexia were still learning each other. How to make space for someone extra in your life and in your heart. 

She hadn’t met your children as your girlfriend yet, you wanted to be really really sure before throwing in another person. Leah had introduced her multitude of girls. But everytime a new one was introduced, Oscar would be more confused and you, ultimately, had to deal with his behaviour. 

You were only four months into your relationship and you were beginning to worry. There had been no sex, no hint at sex, no talks of sex. Nothing. You wanted it, so badly, but you were scared. 

You had two kids now, breastfed both of them and overall just aged. Your body had changed, a change that most the time you welcomed but then you remembered what Leah had told the marriage counsellor. 

You found out Leah was cheating completely by accident. Her phone was lighting up constantly while she was putting your son to bed in his nursery. Just like many times before, you decided to look at her phone.  

Without thinking about it, you opened the messages. You felt sick immediately. Your wife, your beautiful loving attentive wife, was messaging another woman. Not just any woman. A teammate.   

Jordan fucking Nobbs. Someone you also considered a friend. 

As you read through the messages, some which were just mundane team things, but the ones about your body, or the insecurities that you had expressed to Leah about being a mother - those hurt.

But then it got worse. If that was somehow possible. Leah would complain about your body, the way the stretch marks on your stomach and boobs turned her off. As if you hadn’t spent the last 18 months growing and feeding your child. 

You didn’t know what to do with this information. It hurt to even think about ending your marriage to Leah.

You were only eight months postpartum. Oscar hadn’t even been earthside for as long as he’d been growing inside of you. And yet, Leah had moved on while you were still together. She was telling Jordan she loved her, while saying the same thing to you. 

She’d pretend to worship your body when you had sex, only to then express her repulsion to Jordan. 

It took an hour before you burst. You couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted to  Leah never denied it, instead she turned the blame onto you. The way you were always busy with the foundation, your son or dealing with the house renovations. As if that made it okay to cheat. 

Marriage counselling started two weeks later. You could barely look at Leah after she said she not longer found you attractive. 

“Before Oscar she was fit. Her boobs were perfect, she was perfect. And now?” She waved her hand around, “well now she’s not.” 

It stuck with you. It’s been two years since she said that and your brain remembered it at the worst time. 

Alexia wasn’t Leah though. You knew that, logically but the damage was still there. A conversation with alexia was well overdue no matter how much anxiety it caused. 

It was one of those rare days where the foundation paper work was slow, alexia was free in the afternoon and your two kids were happily playing with their friends at daycare. 

You’d planned to have a quick coffee with Miriam and then see Alexia before she had an event that night. 

Even though Miriam was also one of Alexia’s best friends, she was usually very diplomatic when it came to your relationship. She was there for you, not for alexia in that moment.  

She was your go to for relationship help because you knew she would keep the secret, she’d tell you the truth without sugar coating it and help you whenever you needed. 

“Alexia and I haven’t had sex.” Miriam barely reacted. 

“I know.” 

“You know?” You raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Yes.” The diplomacy in moments like this annoyed you. 

“So Alexia has said something then.” Miriam just shrugged. “She’s said something to you but not be me?” 

“She’s said about as much as you have.” You knew that meant she had barely spoken about it. 

You decided it was safer to change the subject. You needed to talk to alexia and only alexia. 

Subtlety wasn’t your strong suit. You had barely made it into her apartment before you blurted it out. 

“Why won’t you have sex with me?” 

Alexia was taken aback. “What?” 

“Do you not find me sexual attractive? If that’s the case just let me know.” 

“No no! I do! You’re beautiful and I lov-like you a lot.” 

“Okay then what?” Alexia didn’t reply so you just kept going, “I have only ever been with Leah. It that is? Or is it that I have two kids and my body has changed? I know it’s changed. Leah reminded me all the time but I didn’t expect you-“

“Stop.” You stopped and looked at alexia, she looked hurt, maybe a little scared but mainly hurt. “I don’t care that you’ve only been with Leah. Yes obviously your body has changed because you grew and fed two babies. It’s not because of the way you look, or anything like that. I was waiting for you.” 

“For me?” You pointed at yourself, wide eyed and confused. 

“Yes amor. I’ve been waiting for you to be ready, to tell me or initiate. I was waiting because I know you’ve only been with Leah. You were with her for ten years and now you aren’t. I didn’t expect you to want to jump into bed with me on the first date.” 

You were speechless for a moment, “oh. Sorry.” 

You sat on the couch next to Alexia, letting you pull you into her. “You’re so silly sometimes.” 

“You wanna have sex?” Alexia laughed. The sweet laugh that you had fallen in love with. 

“Yes of course. But not tonight. If you’re ready then I want to make it special.” She kissed your temple and pulled you into closer. 

And special it was. 

There was no pressure, not need to feel anxious or scared. 

Alexia took care of you. Slowly and lovingly. She worshipped your body in a way you’d never experienced before. 

Somewhere in the middle of it, you confessed that you loved her and she did the same. It solidified your role in her life. 

The next huddle would come in the form of meeting her family. 

[trashytracktales]

any visions of maneater!reader and womanizer!lando yet? that'd be so hot omg 😩

You guys shouldn’t put such images in my head, because look what happens. Look!!

𝗗𝗬𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗖𝗦

✦ None of them is used to being outplayed, which makes their relationship a constant battle of control.

✦ The sexual tension is insane. I’m talking arguments turning into make-up sex, and every flirtatious glance is seen as a challenge.

✦ They’re toxic for anyone else, but somehow they thrive in each other’s fire. What they have it’s fueled by a chaotic chemistry, and it wouldn’t work with other people, because the main thing that bonds them is a mutual obsession.

✦ Talking about mutual obsession, both are addicted to the game, and neither of them is willing to lose. Their version of love is possessive, passionate, and always a little crazy.

𝗜𝗡 𝗣𝗨𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗖 | the ultimate power couple

✦ In public, they are constantly teasing each other, just enough to rile the other up.

✦ Using jealousy as a foreplay is basically their love language.

✦ From the outside, they look like they’re made for each other, always immaculate, matching in power looks; they look like sex, and everyone knows it.

𝗜𝗡 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗩𝗔𝗧𝗘 | everything is a competition

✦ Sex isn’t soft. I’m seeing scratches down backs, maybe even broken furniture, handprints on thighs. They leave marks like trophies.

✦ From choking to spanking to edging, their bedroom is a war zone. His hand is constantly around her neck while telling her she’s his; she bites his lip until it bleeds, then rides him until he begs.

✦ The control games are strong. She’ll edge him for hours just because he pissed her off. He’ll cancel her orgasm mid-session and leave her soaked and irritated, only to return later and wreck her all over again.

𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗥𝗔 𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗖𝗘

✦ Lando is a starved man, no matter how many times he eats in a day. She makes sure he always has his mouth full (because she likes it more when he shuts the fuck up).

✦ When he does talk, it’s usually him asking existential questions 🤔💭:

“Who’s cock gets you this wet?”, when she’s stuttering, moaning, and lost in it.

“You think anyone else could fuck you like this?”, right before slamming into her harder, just to prove his point.

“How many times did you think about me today?”, while he’s finger-fucking her open.

✦ When the power switches, she makes sure to let him know, by riding him while mocking his ego. “Thought you were the big bad womanizer. Look at you now, crying like a baby for me.”

✦ Dare I say... threesomes? Because they both get off more on jealousy than on the third party? Let that marinate.

𝗗𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗖 𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘

✦ Waking up at noon, bodies tangled, hungover and still high off last night’s sex. She’s wearing his shirt and is covered in love marks; he’s shirtless, displaying his own punishments.

✦ Every mundane activity ends in something filthy.

✦ Their fights are legendary... until they end up pinned to a wall, fucking like it’s the last time.

✦ They do spoil each other; he’s always buys her stuff and she makes sure to say thank you by leaving him breathless.

𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘?

✦ Probably not. Mostly because they are two people who are way too similar and, in time, the fire will consume them both. Finding their madness mirrored in each other will eventually make them go from love to hate.

𝗕𝗢𝗡𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗢𝗦

✦ The Ride Back Home: after that intense public teasing, Lando will make sure she’s paying for her recklessness, and drives the entire time with two fingers buried inside her. “I love this car, so make a mess and I’ll make you clean it with your mouth.”

✦ Post-race Rage Fuck: missing a podium or after he’s DNFed for some reason. “Didn’t win, but at least I get to fuck a prize.”

✦ Family Yacht Party: she’s bent over the railing with Lando behind her, fucking her slow while people are chilling below deck. “You’re so cockdrunk you’d let me fuck you in front of your parents, hm?”

[hoondrop]

Hard Thought - Perv! Jake

a/n: this is mainly just to spite the anon who was harassing me for interacting with smut while being muslim.

the biggest fattest kissie and thank you to my girl @jaylaxies for helping me out with the layout and giving me the confidence to post this mwah my baby ilysm

thinking about jake wandering into his best friend's room out of sheer boredom just to snoop around and coming across what seems to be a portfolio of photographs, which seems mundane seeing as sunghoon is a photography student.

what catches his attention and curiosity is the genre of the photos. each one ranging between suggestive and extremely provocative that it will make a pornstar bashful. his mouth watering at the sight of what can only be sunghoon's muse.

he can't decide if the face not being shown is a plus for him or not, ultimately deciding he can imagine whoever he wants to be the owner of the body he's currently drooling over. he looks at the clock. sunghoon won't be home for another two hours.

he runs to his bedroom, locking the door and flinging off his boxers at record speed. not wasting any time, his hand already pumping up his hardening dick as he makes his way to his bed.

it doesn't take long for him to cum all over his fist, eyes trained, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth at the view of the tits that are covered in bite marks he only assumes belong to sunghoon - that's strange.. hoon doesn't have a girlfriend.

but he doesn't dwell on that fact, nor does he care because the second photo has his cock twitching back to life; a close up of the muse's pussy, hidden behind the french fabric of her panties - so useless.. the outline visible clear as day.. the shape of her clit, the swell of her folds, that Jake knows, which only means a puffy and spent cunt…

he moans at the vision his mind paints, imagining it bare and sticky, covered in his release. his grip on the base of his cock tightens picturing himself smearing his cum all over that pussy with his cock.. pushing in and feeling the gummy walls clench around him..

he cums for the sixth time, one for every picture until he reaches the last one, his cock now sensitive and red, leaking pathetically. he's about to go for the last round when he doubles over the small detail that was never visible in the previous pictures.

eyes wide, he sits up. his mind going haywire as realization hits him like a ton of bricks. he couldn't decide what he was feeling was disgust, disbelief or complete arousal.

the delicate tattoo that rested on the model's waist.. he knew it. he could draw it in his sleep with how frequently he had seen it.

Jake couldn't believe it. he had never even suspected or imagined that sunghoon would indulge in something like this. he couldn't grasp the fact the body he had came six times for belonged to you. you were so sweet. so polite. so good. so innocent. and he was so wrong about you.

how sweet and innocent can one be if they let their stepbrother use their body and take pictures to keep as mementos.

© hoondrop | tumblr

[xo2dee]

🗨️ SCRUFF

PAIRING: Dante/(Fem)Reader. WARNINGS: Fluff. WORD COUNT: 2,286. SUMMARY: 'Sunday Reset' days were your favorite, especially when you got your boyfriend involved in the routine. Or: You shave Dante's face.

A/N: i cant believe it took me so long to write for dante.. after all i loved him before vergil then ultimately left him for his older brother JAKSNDF. anyways i had dmc4 - dmc5 dante in mind writing it, hence the beard and growing hair but pls enjoy!

DMC MASTERLIST

‘Sunday Reset’ days were your new favorite thing.

There was a simplicity behind it that made you cozy, all the way from waking up that morning warm beneath your comforter to the idea of climbing back into bed later that night freshly showered and rubbing your legs together like a cricket with shaved legs and washed sheets. The pay off after spending all day cleaning, and decluttering to taking the dreaded (but loved) ‘Everything’ showers and then being able to go to bed that night after feeling completely accomplished and productive before you prepared for the oncoming week was a satisfaction and fulfillment on another level. And fuck, was it a chore… considering where you lived and who you had to room with, but what nothing was ever impossible once you’d put your mind to it.

And you also managed to get your boyfriend into the tradition as well.

Your half-demon, half-human boyfriend named Dante who ran an ‘Exorcist’ shop on the front, but really he was out purging any demons who’d crawled their way up out of Hell and were becoming a danger to human life. So… it was a little jarring to settle into a more… mundane setting with him once you’d learned what you had learned. Dante, however, had zero qualms about adjusting you into his life.

Moving in with Dante had been easy on its own (since him leaving Devil May Cry as whole really was out of the question), it was you having to adjust to living there that took some time. You could look past the boxes of pizza and Chinese takeouts since they could be thrown away (and maybe even the posters on his walls… maybe), but getting used to the… demonic possessions on the walls that you swore watched you every time you were in the room was something else entirely. But you made it work, you were no quitter when it came to the love of your life and his weird eccentricities around the place.

Or when he snored loud enough to wake you from sleep.

A sigh broke out of your chest once you shut the dryer door, hefting the hamper full of clean sheets and pillowcases up to take upstairs as your comforter finally dried. It was nearing the end of the day, and you could shower all the grime off of you and probably spend an hour in said shower doing everything you wanted to do before curling up in bed using Dante’s bicep as a pillow. It made you put a little extra pep in your step as the end of the day neared, ready to get the bed made and cozy as you went to sleep feeling accomplished.

As you walked past the open bathroom door on the way up the stairs, you stopped in your tracks. Dante was standing in front of the mirror with shaving cream lathered over his face, and in his hand he held a small razor you knew his ass got from a gas station somewhere saying, “It’ll do.” in the process. It irked you to know you’d gotten him an actual straight razor (and that it was in one of the drawers of the cabinet as well) and hadn’t made any use of it, instead using cheap disposable razors to tame the wild stubble what grew on his face way too fast for a normal person. Then again, he wasn’t normal anyways… Hence why he needed to use an actual razor rather than a cheap fifty cents one.

You almost groaned imagining the razor bumps you’d feel on your skin from his cheeks.

“Please tell me you’re not using a Bic, Dante?”

His hand stopped, the tip of the razor lying against his cheek as he shot you a confused look, “What else am I gonna use?”

Balancing the hamper on your hip you reached in far enough to pull open a drawer and, lo and behold, there was the razor you’d gotten him. Unused and probably as sharp as ever too. You cocked an eyebrow up while giving it a pointed look, “An actual razor?”

“Bah,” he waved you off, a slab of shaving cream falling onto his collarbone as he resumed the position he had before. You watched skeptical as Dante began to try and shave – key word: try as you could practically hear the blade struggling and scratching against his skin to cut off the thick hairs along his jawline. As usual, Dante paid it no mind, “These get the job done if you press down hard enough.”

And yet, you could still see parts of his beard uneven and not shaved when he swiped away the shaving cream while admiring his jaw in the mirror. At the rate he was moving, you’d be rubbing your cheek against sandpaper and waking up with tiny scratches on your face.

Sighing you dropped the hamper at your feet and moved into the bathroom, Dante moving back far enough for you to squeeze yourself in between him and the sink. He almost looked smug watching you do it, something you filed away for another time to pester him about, instead holding out your hand to him, “Gimme.”

One his eyebrows rose, yet he still passed the razor into your hand despite the doubt, “What, are you gonna shave me?”

Tossing the razor into the trash you ignored his little “Hey!”, choosing to swipe the razor from the drawer instead as you flicked it open and snickered when Dante audibly swallowed, “Why not? Don’t trust me?”

His hands raised in a gesture of placation, and you took that moment to jump onto the counter behind you so you had a better leverage of actually being able to shave Dante. You patted your knee once you were settled, Dante’s hands coming forward to clutch the counter next to your thighs as his arms caged you in where you sat before you reached for the shaving cream to lather more onto your hands for his face. A long exhale passed through him as his chin tilted upwards, a strong urge to gently caress his Adam’s Apple in your mind’s eye before you pushed it away, instead basking in his warmth at the closeness and rubbing your fingers along his jawline.

A low hum vibrated out of his throat, “Have you actually ever shaved a beard before?” he asked after a moment, eyes heavy as he watched you lather more shaving cream along his face. Briefly, you wondered if he was trying to pry information out of you to see if you’d shaved another man’s beard before.

You laughed at the thought, a bit of pride in you at the idea of getting Dante slightly jealous but brushed it away as you cleansed your hands of any residue before moving the razor to his jawline, “No, but I shave my legs.”

Dante snorted, closing his eyes as you began to slowly shave along his jawline, “Sometimes. Other times I wake up and your leg hairs are tickling me.”

You couldn’t help to gape at him, rolling your eyes and almost reminding him that his legs were some of the hairiest you’d ever seen. It was like waking up with Chewbacca in your damn bed, especially when Dante had an affinity of throwing his leg over your hip in the dead of his sleep and you could practically feel every single hair brushing against yours. You shaved another part of his face, his chin, as you hooked your foot at the bend of his knee to pull him closer, “Telling me this while I have a razor to your face is pretty bold.”

The breathy laugh nearly shook you, Dante’s knuckles beginning to tap a rhythm into the counter as you continued to shave him, “I’ve faced worse of your fury.”

You snickered as you finished up on his face and wiped the razor clean, pressing a finger underneath his chin and gesturing upwards, “Chin up, handsome.”

He followed your words without any fuss, and you couldn’t help but feel the tension in air scald and sizzle for a moment whenever the blade passed by his jugular. His deep swallow and the way he leaned into you made your lips purse, the fresh smell of him straight out a shower intoxicating and you could briefly see the glistening beads of water along his chest he missed wiping himself dry. The absence of Dante throughout the day while you cleaned something you mourned and your body was beginning to react to how close he was in a way a more primal side of you spurred on. The heat in the tight room sweltered when you remembered the task at hand, peeking up at Dante and sighing in relief that his eyes remained closed and he began to look like he was nodding off.

You wouldn’t be surprised. The slightest twirl of his hair around your finger made him sleepy.

The slight noise of cutting through his hair was satisfying your ears in a way you couldn’t describe as you took great pride in watching the hair slide off so easily and the shaving cream with it. You were also beginning to think that maybe you should’ve used the straight razor before on your legs to avoid stray spots you missed and the dreaded bumps along your legs before deciding that accidentally cutting yourself wasn’t worth it. You didn’t need Dante wondering why all the towels and rags had your blood all over them and him just sniffing the smell out entirely.

A blink made you realize you’d been absentmindedly shaving Dante, hoping you hadn’t accidentally nicked him in the process and sighing once you realized he was scotch free and only a slight shadow was beginning to remain on his face. He sighed longingly, his fingers moving to clutch the fabric of your leggings at your hips, “You’re actually pretty good at this. Maybe I can getcha to be my barber instead…”

You snorted, pressing your fingers onto his Adam’s Apple before rubbing it, “You don’t even have a barber, but maybe I should because cutting your hair with your sword isn’t good for it.”

A distorted, low rumble vibrated your fingers along his throat, a small grin creasing his face as his eyes opened a fraction – sleepy and content. “I’ve never done that…” A pause and he laughed at your expression, “Okay, maybe once but I was young. Cut me some slack, babe.”

You could imagine it – Dante’s shaggy locks uneven and chopped from the way he sliced them with his sword, a tongue peeking out of his lips as he did so while concentrating and trying to make his hair look as good as possible for someone cutting it themselves. Your imagination ended with either Trish or Lady walking in on him, sighing heavily at his ordeal and then leaving him to his own devices as you held back a laugh. Though, props to Dante, if he was still cutting his hair himself (or lack of actually, the more you noted how long it was getting) he was doing a much better job. Now, only if you could find the scissors he uses…

Moments later, Dante’s face was fully shaven and you noted that he was already beginning to show signs of it growing back as fast as it could. You could only internally sigh, blaming those demonic genes as you sat the razor down with a triumphant expression, “There, done.”

His eyes blinked numerous times, shaking the sleep from them as you leaned to the side a fraction to let him inspect himself in the mirror. One of his hands raised to hold his jaw, moving his head left and right as he admired himself and the job you had done, “Niceeee, I knew you’d do a good job,” a cheeky grin was thrown at you as he winked, “You gotta future here.”

“I knew you’d do a good job”, and then his little goofy, smug smirk when you barged into the bathroom to take over. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning, “Was this all your elaborate plan to get me to shave your beard for you?”

Dante shrugged while untangling himself from you, yet clearly caught as he began to wash his face again and patting it dry afterwards, “Who’s to say? A man likes to be pampered now and then…” He rolled up the towel he used and then lightly swatted your leg, making you laugh as you ripped it out of his grasp and smacked his arm with it before having a brief tug-of-war with it.

“I’m sure he does…” you teased, jumping down from your perch as he tossed the towel in the hamper full of dirty clothes. You passed by him with a kiss to his shoulder, picking the hamper back up before turning to him with stern look, “Now, moisturize your face and I’ll see you in bed.” And it wasn’t even like Dante needed to moisturize, his skin was practically flawless any and all times no matter what he did while you had to battle pores and acne most of the time.

As you walked away, you could hear him sigh before opening the mirror where said skin care products were kept, “Yeah, yeah, the collagen jelly cream when I’m done, right?”

“Yes!” you called, stopping halfway on the stairs for another reminder that had slipped your mind, “And don’t forget to put a facemask on before you get in bed!”

The moan you heard made you stifle a laugh, walking back up to the bedroom as Dante’s defeated tone slipped into your ears.

“Please… not again.”

[arthenaa]

my love mine all mine— mizu x f! reader

synopsis: marriage is nigh for someone your age and with society's expectations of you, how long will you have to keep waiting for him?

content: 18+ nsfw, mdni, angst w comfort, fluff, she/her pronouns for reader, he/she pronouns for mizu, patriarchal views on women, arranged marriage, jealousy, use of sex toys, idiots in love

a/n: part 2 of nocturne (interlude)!! this is for that anon who was on their finals week (ur req got deleted i h8 tumblr) and to those who requested for a part 2 !!! a reward for your hard work

Your relationship with Mizu was ... interesting.

After what happened that day, your relationship progressed into a deeper sense of connection. He was attracted to you as much as you were attracted to him. A fact that made your fingers tingle with anticipation every time he came down to your village under the guise of getting more medicine.

Your father had no complaints as business is business and provided him with what he needed, although you could see the occassional side eyes that your father gives him every time he stays longer than he was supposed to be. It was a comical sight indeed.

Mizu helped you out as much as he could—whether it be mundane house chores or taxing ones that require hard labor or a change of locations, he was down to accompany you in any way.

While yes, his efforts of providing you aid sent a surge of butterflies down your stomach, what ultimately led you to hammering a nail in the coffin was the subtle touches that he gave you.

You knew he knew and he knew that he was being smug about it. While it didn't show on his face, his eyes told it all. Whether it be passing by and gently placing a hand on the small of your back to excuse himself out of your way as if there wasn't a 2-meter space to your right or the brushing of fingers when he lent you something or if he's being bold enough, especially when your father's not looking, outright pretending that there was a fabric stuck on your hairpin and so he leans in close to you only to place a kiss on your cheek—he always has to have some sort of skinship with you during the day. It often left you struggling for words or having a flushed face.

"Dear," Your father furrows his eyebrows as he eyes your flushed cheeks. You tense in his gaze as he glances at Mizu who appears calm as he takes a sip of his drink. The blue-eyed samurai had done it again—saw an opening and took it like he was meant for it. He fooled you into thinking that your hair was out of place and offered to fix it. Your father had stepped out to get the food and you had hoped that he stayed somehow so that you wouldn't have to deal with all this bullcrap. Mizu took the chance to grab your chin and place a kiss on your lips. Your father came back shortly and you haven't relaxed since. "You don't look alright. Do you want me to—?"

"I-It's fine, Dad!" You intercept, hands raised as you shake no. "The soup was just... hot."

You glance at Mizu who looks at you from the side of his eye. He smirks over his cup.

It was safe to say that Mizu was also mischievous by nature. Despite his usual calm and cool demeanor, you didn't expect the man before you to be quite playful when it came to just between the two of you.

You did all these things, said all those things, looked at each other with things unspoken of and you're quite sure that your relationship was susceptible to the one thing you're quite sure would lead to.

Marriage.

A want for some, a necessity for many. You'd think that in your years of living in this town that you'd find a partner suitable for marriage and you did! Just a little bit later than others.

You had expected that... Mizu would propose. After all, what comes after dating but marriage? Your father and mother did that, your aunts, uncles, cousins, hell, even your friends already got married albeit some of them out of their own will.

You dreamed of having a true love marriage. One that you could be yourself and never have to be ashamed of loving someone despite their stature in life. One that you could coexist with and that could never demean your existence as a woman. You knew those things were far fetched from reality but everyone wishes to dream right?

You had tried discreetly asking about it, curious as to why he barely mentions anything but he only casts you an unreadable look on his face then a soft smile.

He kissed the back of your hand with a gentle touch, softness mirroring that of a snowflake's descent.

"... I can't," He says. You're not sure as to why he sounded in pain, like something was troubling him but you knew better than to pry. "Not right now."

So you let it go.

It was times like this that you felt the other half of the relationship. Like there was still a barrier you couldn't decipher between you. Why he often looks secretive with your father at times or why he falls silent at the most random of moments. There was something you didn't know and it often aches you that you couldn't be able to understand him unless you knew the inner workings of his mind.

The first instance that brought up the onslaught of problems that would soon arise was the arrival of a proposal from the south. It came in the form of a letter, writings neatly imprinted on fine parchment—rolled with the delicacy that of a noble.

You could see your father's nervous glance as the messenger read what was sent to him. You could hear bits and pieces of the arrangement, hands wringing each other in anxiety as your eyes trained on your father's back. Mizu had not arrived that day and normally, you would fret over such things but your father casts a glance at you over his shoulder and suddenly everything seems to have changed its course.

"Father," You pant as you gather the ends of your kimono, trying to match the pace of your patriarch as he travels all over the house. He seems to not be at rest from the talk with the messenger—a perpetual stone-cold look plastered on his face. "Father!"

He enters the part of your house you haven't gone to in ages. Not because you despised it but because you were afraid that the spirit that once dwelled in its abode would arise and look at you with those same eyes that once held all the love and memories when you were but a wee girl. You hesitate at the entrance but decide to follow him through.

"Not right now, Y/N," He mumbles, agitated as he crouches over a chest and begins digging through the array of clothes. Your eyebrows furrow.

"What—What did he say?" You stammer as you stand to his left, eyes watching his every move as he frantically rummages through the fabrics. "Father, I have—I need to know."

Your father pauses, defeatedly slumping against the chest as his fingers tap against the wooden surface in thought. Silence ensues between the two of you and suddenly he turns to you with a sympathetic look on his face. Your blood runs cold.

"Lord Shimizu—" He pauses, catching himself stammering as he looked into those eyes that were fruition of shared dreams and a love he hasn't forgotten in ages. "He asked for your hand in marriage."

You stare at him with a shaky gaze, breath going in and out as you tried to process his response.

"Then-Then tell him no," Your eyebrows furrow. Your father falls silent at your words. "Tell him like you've always told the others."

"I can't, Y/N," He whispers, tone shifting into despair. Your shoulders are low as he lowers his head in shame.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't," He emphasizes his words once more, eyes darting up to meet yours. "I have always tried to protect you but I can't this time."

Your face falls in desperation as you kneel down with him. You grab his hands in an attempt to convince him once more.

"Father, please, I can't—I don't even know him!" You plead as your grip on his callous fingers tightens. He looks at you with sadness. "Please Father, I'll do anything, just don't—"

"Y/N," He cuts you off with a stern voice. You fall silent as you wait for his response. "This man is from Kyoto. While the men here fear my stature as a medic, this man has access to professionals far greater than me. He doesn't regard me as someone important and if I dare raise my voice, we might as well be dead."

Your figure tenses at his words. He grabs your arms in an attempt to comfort you. In a last attempt to get him to decline the offer, you say the thoughts that have been at the forefront of your mind.

"I'm in love with Mizu," Your voice comes out in a whisper, eyes wide and tears welling up. He tenses at your confession, eyebrows furrowing at the implications.

"You—"

"Father, I love him." Your voice comes out in a desperate attempt to get him to see you. Your hands raise to touch his arm but he suddenly raises to his feet, taking a few steps back. Your heart speeds up at his reaction.

"Is that why he—?" Your father whispers out in thought. You're not sure if he was angry or disappointed, but you're quite sure that this was a bad thing. His face contorts into a look of anger as he continues to look at you with a hardened gaze. "When was this?"

"You told me you wanted me to have a true love marriage, Father—This is it!" You look up at him with a defiance so strong that it almost gives your father a whiplash of how similar it looked. He falters in his stance but remains rooted to his cause.

"I know but not to—!" He catches himself at the end of his sentence. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. He runs a hand through his face before sighing. "Not like this. Not to him. Not Mizu, Y/N."

Your eyebrows furrow in anger at his words. "You can't dictate what I feel for him."

There's a moment of silence as your father casts you an unreadable look on his face. You thought that your father might approve of Mizu. They after all started at the same steps and eventually grew to the path they were destined for, albeit in different fields. You're not quite sure as to what led to this defiance against your choice for marriage but it already has you intruiged.

"The messenger talks of praises of Lord Shimizu," Your father diverts the conversation. "I also hear that he is a general and part of the Emperor's Kingsguard. He is of noble stature and earned his keep. He is a man fitting of your deserving."

You fall silent at his words before finally rising to your height and dusting off your kimono. You glance at the chest, eyeing the white fabric that pops out of an array of multicolored ones. You turn back to your father.

"You raised me to not be a hypocrite," Your voice is stone cold. Your father flinches at the tone. "I expected you to not be one as well."

With that you left.

The days were grueling.

Presents after presents were sent to your doorstep and while you wish that you could throw them all away, your father accepted them and kept them in the storage, still neatly wrapped for you to open.

Mizu had also arrived less and less over the past couple of days. He usually stays for more than an hour but now he leaves within the 30-minute mark. You felt like your time had been severed into bits and pieces after your fight with your father. You saw them talking, hushed in the receiving area. You expected your father to berate him for influencing his own daughter but their relationship remained civil. In fact, after his talk with your father was what prompted fewer visits and only coming for business.

He also became distant. Little to no skinship—sometimes even none at all. He talks to you in that cold tone of his and even grunts in annoyance when you try to bother him into coming with you to window shop in town.

You thought they were being unfair. That they could freely do things like this beyond your knowledge. Watch you crumble into a pit of despair at the concept of what you believed was the essence of true love. How naïve were you.

The final straw came when Mizu stayed a little bit longer than usual. He was swift with his purchase but remained seated at the tree located just outside your humble abode.

You approached him with soft steps, eyes trained on his head devoid of his kasa and the usual orange tinted glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome.

"Why are you like this?" Your voice cuts through the silence, direct and swift as a breeze passes through you. You see the familiar curl on his forehead, swishing back and forth before settling down.

Mizu does not reply for a few seconds before finally responding. "Like what?"

Your breath shakes at his nonchalance. "Like everything's back from the start."

Mizu pauses before turning his head to look at you standing behind him. There's a long duration of silence between you, eyes only locked with each other as the breeze fills in the void.

"Y/N," Your name escapes his lips like a prayer. You will yourself not to fold. "I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what?"

He rises up from his seat on the ground, grabbing his Kasa in the process. He examines the item, eyeing the material woven intricately to form its shape. You could tell that there were a lot of things in his mind. You could only wait until he decided to break down the walls he built up so high.

"I didn't mean it to be this way." He finally looks at you in the eye, those beautiful shades of blue hidden by a tint of orange. He pauses himself before a change of expression is plastered on his face. "I think it's best if we stop here."

Your breath hitches. "What?"

"I said what I said," He mutters in that neutral tone of his, devoid of emotion. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "I... I am on a journey and I have wishes to accomplish. I operate on circumstances that prove to be unlawful. It's best that you don't associate yourself with me. I was too distracted to begin with."

Distracted? Is that what he thought all of this was about? Your hands shake in anger as your eyes darted any sort of giveaway that he might just be joking with you. The world was pinning its blame on your shoulders and now you have to receive the consequences of its actions.

You purse your lips, stopping yourself from bawling then and there. You can't give him the satisfaction of seeing yourself in a mess. You refuse.

You turn around without responding, making hasty steps towards your home before halting once more. You turn to see him putting on his Kasa, eyes in a daze. Upon feeling your stare at him, he turns back towards you. His gaze falters.

"I'm sorry." He says.

You could never will out the words you should've said.

Lord Shimizu came on the 3rd day of the week. He wasn't what you expected him to be.

Naturally, nobles of that standing would appear to be egocentric maniacs who dabbled and flaunted their wealth in various entertainment establishments. They act crass and speak crass as if their authority gives them the pass to be an asshole to everybody.

You thought to yourself, this man could have anybody that he wanted. He was a general, a skilled warrior, and a candidate for marriage to Japan's array of elegant and noble women. Why would he pick a humble medic's daughter all the way from Takayama?

Well, the answer finally came to you in flesh instead.

"L-Lord Shimizu!" Your father stammers over his words as a young man, your age enters the establishment. You take a step back towards the panel of the receiving area, slightly shielding yourself from the onslaught of 3-4 men entering the place. "I didn't expect you to be here."

The man does not respond yet, his eyes wander the interior of the establishment before finally settling on you. You flinch back at the intensity of his stare. Your father notices his attention on you before clearing his throat.

"Y/N?" He calls over, eyes meeting with yours as he beckons you over. You grumble under your breath before making hesitant steps to your father's side. "Ah yes, this is Y/N Gojo. My daughter. Y/N, this is Lord Shimizu Kaito."

Your eyes peer up at him underneath your lashes, trying to take a peek at his face. Shimizu flashes you a soft smile before bowing in greeting.

"Apologies for not having been able to meet before. The Emperor had requested me to attend to several cases in various cities. I hope that you and Y/N can forgive my tardy appearance." His voice is proper and elegant but you could only scoff at his words. Apparently, it was loud enough for him, your father, and the two other guards stationed behind him to hear. Your father elbows your waist.

"Apologies for my daughter," He sheepishly smiles. "She seems to have a... cold."

He eyes you with a strict look on his face which you turn to look away at. Just as you wished for all of this to be over, a wave of a hand catches your attention. You turn to look at Shimizu who softly smiles at you once more.

"I know this proposal is sudden but I hope you can give me a chance." He says, voice and tone genuine. You hesitantly purse your lips at his words. "I'll be staying around this time. I hope I can get to know you."

Lord Shimizu stayed true to his word. The past few days were nothing but him trying to get to know you as an individual. He was nice, accommodating, and even dare say, a proper friend you could talk to.

He helped you out in chores, got you gifts, had tea with you, learned your ways, and walked with you in town. If you were the person you were before, you could've deemed this man the perfect match for you.

While you appreciated his eagerness in wanting to get to know you, you also can't help but be reminded of a certain blue-eyed boy every time he did something remotely similar. He talks of his travels, his blade, his peers, his interests, and you're brought back to the time Mizu let you hold his blade in your palms, brought you trinkets from his previous adventure, talked to you about his annoying apprentice, or that he prefers his soba to have a little bit more soup in ratio to his noodles.

Everything remind you of him.

Mizu had not visited in a while. You tried asking about him to your father if he ever came to get medicine but your father denies every question.

Sometimes you catch glimpses of a familiar Kasa roaming the town streets but is only mistaken by a wandering traveler. You're not too sure how long it would take for you to lose your wits about everything.

Sensing the troubling thoughts that plagued your mind, Shimizu offered for you both to take a stroll in town at night and shop for trinkets that you might find interesting to place in your room. He tried his best to keep you entertained, asking about your interests, making you laugh, all that stuff.

The question that prompted you at the start of his arrival began to urge you to put forth a topic for conversation. You wait for Shimizu to finish his words before finally dropping the question.

"Why me?" You ask, eyes gazing into his as he halts at the question. He blinks a couple of times, not able to process the question.

"What?"

"Why me, my lord?" You repeat, hands clutching your satchel. "I am but a mere servant's daughter. You could have anyone."

He licks his lips eyebrows furrowing. "But you are someone."

You raise your eyebrows, urging for him to continue. The man takes a breath, looking around before finally settling his eyes on you.

"I..." He starts off, words trailing as he gazes into your eyes. He continues. "I came here before. As a child."

Your eyes widen at the revelation.

"People talk of a man named Gojo-sensei who was able to remedy almost all illnesses. I was sickly and my condition was worsening." He responds. The city lanterns glow beautifully behind his figure, laughter of children, men, and women alike provides solace in the void of silence between you. "I remember coming in there and seeing you. Seeing your father then..."

He trailed off like he was remembering something painful.

"I remember a lady," His face softens at the thought. Your eyebrows furrow. "While your father did the aiding, this woman had brought me comfort. I was never really coddled and treated with such gentleness back home. I was an only child—a firstborn son. Being soft and dependent was out of the vocabulary."

You fall silent at his words as he looks down at his hands.

"She... she stayed by my side. Fed me, clothed me, made sure I was okay." He looked up at you. "I saw you sometimes, clinging to the ends of her kimono."

A chilling realization surges through your veins. Your silence prompts him to continue.

"I heard the news that she passed away years ago. I wasn't able to come due to my duties but I am indebted to her." He says. "Then, when I visited a month ago. I saw you—a spitting image."

Your breath shakes at the words. "You proposed to me because I looked like my mother?"

Shimizu looks down in shame, hands wringing in nervousness. "I thought that if I married you, I'd be able to receive that same love again."

You let out a breath of disbelief. While the topic of your mother wasn't something you detested talking about, her memory still was something you were quite hesitant to approach. You remember her sickly figure, her weak smile, the day your father broke. It was as if you threaded lightly along the edges of her carved path, wanting to preserve what was left of her image.

You take a step back, eyes looking at him in disbelief. Shimizu falters in his stance.

"I'm sorry, this isn't going to work." You softly mutter, shaking your head. Just as you take another step back, Shimizu panics and tries to grab your hand.

"Y/N, let me explain I—"

A swift change of air alerts you of a new presence and suddenly you feel deja vu. You turn your head to meet the familiar stance of a man you didn't expect to see again.

"I believe she said no." Mizu's voice is authoritative and deep, hand encasing Shimizu's wrist. The man furrows his eyebrows at Mizu who squints back a glare.

"Who are you?! Your jurisdiction?" Shimizu demands. He tries to pull his wrist away only to be met by a steel force. Mizu scoffs.

"I won't let you go until you promise to stay 10 meters away from her." Mizu threatens. Shimizu sweat drops, eyes glancing down at the hand gripping his wrist to the eyes shielded by tinted glasses. Your eyes dart back and forth between the two, afraid that a fight might brawl out and you're not in the mood to see blood spilled.

Shimizu was also a general and if word comes out that one of the Emperor's trusted military aides got injured by someone lower of his stature, your father will definitely pay for the consequences. You rush towards them and grab Mizu's hand to break them apart.

"Let him go," You say. Mizu turns to you with furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes soften, and you nod softly in reassurance. "Let him go, its okay.

Mizu hesitantly lets the man go and Shimizu stumbles back, holding his wrist. Mizu turns to you in concern, hand grabbing your arm as he examines you. "Are you alright?"

You nod, flustered by his attention. "I'm fine."

Feeling Shimizu's stare on you, you look back at the man to see hurt and a realization spread across his face. Your gaze falters.

He clears his throat and fixes his stance. "Apologies, Y/N. It seems that I have miscalculated my approaches. Forgive me for my behavior."

"It's alright, my lord," You respond. Mizu stands menacingly beside you, eyes trained on his figure. Shimizu glances at him and then at you. He smiles.

"It was nice being your friend," He says. He bows as respect. You curtsy back, albeit shaky. "I'll leave as requested. I wish you luck."

He leaves without turning back. You watch as he gets lost in the crowd, the breeze gently swinging your clothes back and forth. The lanterns dazzle the streets—performing a pretense of joy. You take a breath before finally facing the last of your problems.

Mizu stands there, eyes already looking at you with an unreadable look on his face. Your eyes soften.

"What are you doing here?" You mumble, lacking the energy to even be angry. Mizu shifts in his stance.

"I came back." He answers vaguely.

"For what?"

There a pause of silence before he moves to remove his Kasa. You can see his face clearly now, albeit those beautiful eyes of his still covered by his glasses.

"For you." He says. He gulps as if nervous and your eyes widen at his confession.

"But I thought you said—"

"I was a coward," He says. He heaves a breath. "I have loved before and shown them everything and yet I have ruined them. I was afraid that I might—that I might ruin you with what I am."

You fall silent at his words. You were confused, you had already seen what others claim to be the worst of him—in fact, that was what you loved most about his features. Eyes that seem to hold the waters—a depiction of nature. Just as he is about to continue, cheers erupt from the central town, you flinch as the others begin to gather to watch the amusement happening. Mizu, sensing your uneasiness, pulls you towards a nearby alley—dark and hidden from the public eye. He places you against the wall, eyes watching for passersby that might lurk in while your eyes are trained on his face.

You watch with admiration as his eyebrows furrow in their usual curl, those eyes that squint into a glare, chapped lips, and the glasses that begin to slowly fall down the bridge of his nose. Unable to resist the urge, you give in.

"Coast is—"

Mizu's eyes widen at the feeling of your lips against his. You cup his cheeks, pulling him down as you encase your arms over his neck. Mizu wastes no time in reciprocating the kiss. He kisses back with the same fervor, hand dropping his Kasa in favor of encasing your waist as he pulls you towards his figure. You whine as you feel his tongue intertwine with yours.

After a few pecks and kisses, you both finally pull away. There's a hushed silence of panting as Mizu places his forehead against yours.

"I am not being truthful," Mizu whispers, breath hitting your lips. "But I want to try. With you."

You smile, hands cupping his cheeks as you rub your thumbs across the surface of his skin.

"I want you as you are," You reassure him. "No matter the flaw, no matter what you tell me. I'll be here with you."

Mizu lowers his head and drops it to burrow against your neck. He hugs you close as bells and instruments begin playing. He pulls back softly before facing you with vulnerability.

"I..." He starts off. "I am not what you think I am."

You tilt your head in confusion as you encase his hands in yours. Your thumbs run over the scar that you've bandaged from before.

"I'm not a... a man." Mizu finally reveals. You pause, eyes blinking as you watch his reaction for any sort of context. Mizu purses his lips before pulling his glasses away, tucking in the side of his clothing before reaching up to pull at his top knot. You watch as his hair—no, her hair flows to her shoulders and then suddenly everything makes sense.

Mizu's breath shakes at your silence. "I-I cannot give you what you want—"

She falls silent as you lean forward to take notice of her features. The flush that adorns her cheeks and the eyes that entranced you from the start. A smile bursts from your lips.

"You're just as I dreamed of," You whisper in awe. Your arms make their way to wrap around her neck as you press yourself close to her. Mizu's face flushes at your words.

Your eyes trace the edges of her features, face contorted in a soft expression. There's a moment of silence before you finally continue. "My father wanted me to have a true love marriage. All my life, the idea of falling in love has always been my dream as a child."

Mizu blinks softly at your words, listening to your every thought.

"And now that I have it, I can understand why my father wanted me to do so," You smile, leaning your forehead against hers. "Marry me, Mizu. I just want to be yours."

The blue-eyed girl erupts into a smile, leaning forward and capturing your lips in hers. You reciprocate with the same intensity, fingers burying in her raven locks. Mizu then pulls away.

"I'll always say yes to you."

"Do we really have to do this?"

Mizu eyes your figure seated on the tatami, eyes peering up at her as she stands in front of you. You giggle at her hesitance.

"Of course!" You grin. "Consummation between man and wife is a must tradition after marriage—well in our case, wife and wife."

Mizu rolls her eyes as she sits down in front of you. She props her knee up and places her arm on top of it. She grabs the cup of tea perched on the small table beside her and takes a sip. "Consummation is done with the idea of children, love. I'm sure you're well aware of that."

You pout before an idea arises in your mind. You lean forward, going on your knees as you crawl towards her. Mizu pauses mid-sip as she watches you with careful eyes. You grab her cup, placing it down on the table as she continues to watch your every move. You settle on her lap, the slit of your kimono revealing your thighs. Mizu's breath shakes.

You take her glasses off and place them on the table before finally focusing on her, arms propped on her shoulders. You feel her hands cup your hips as you stare down at her with a smile.

"What?" You taunt. "You don't wanna fuck me?"

Mizu pauses, eyes widening before she lets out a groan and lowers her head to your clavicle. You giggle as she takes a few moments to calm herself down. Finally, pulling away to face you, Mizu looks at you with her blue eyes clouded with lust.

"You are one dangerous lady, know that?" Mizu leans forward. You grin as you rub your nose against hers.

"Mhm," You say. "My wife told me so."

"Ah fuck! Fuck!" You whimper as you grab the sheets behind you, trying to find some sort of stability from the onslaught of ministrations Mizu's giving you. "W-Wait—Mizu-Wai—Ngh!"

You're afraid that the toy one of your close friends gave you as a congratulations gift to your marriage would be too crass for your night with Mizu. You only brought it to tease her after all. You just didn't expect how much she'd be turned on by it.

"Where are you going?" Mizu's voice is deep and taunting as she watches you claw at the sheets, trying to get away from the intense pleasure. She grabs your waist and pulls you back down towards her, folding your legs to your chest. "You wanted this, why are you backing out, hm? You wanted to consummate so here we are."

She watches as the thick girth and length of her strap pushes in and out—coated with your essence. The noises from it are slick and noisy, causing you to flush in embarrassment. God fucking damn.

"So fucking pretty, aren't ya?" Mizu chuckles as she pushes her hips. She lets out a moan, feeling the other end of the dildo pushing deep with her. You whimper as Mizu presses deep, the tip of her cock bumping against that spot of yours. "So so pretty for me, aren't you momma?"

You shiver at the nickname, hands coming down to grab Mizu's lean arms—its muscle flexing as she speeds up her thrusts, making sure that it's the right spot.

"You've been adamant about this all morning. Especially, after the wedding." Mizu growls, slamming her hips against yours. "You want my kids that bad?"

You're too lost in the pleasure, moans, and garbles of her name only coming out of your mouth. Mizu smiles, hair falling down her shoulders and framing her face as she props herself up on top of you.

"If you want it so bad, I'll give it to you," Mizu leans down to bury her face on your neck, sucking a few marks as she begins to speed up her thrusts.

"Oh! Oh!" You whine as the spot inside of you becomes more sensitive with each bump. Mizu pays no mind to your sounds, reveling in the way your nails rake through her back. She smirks against your skin, licking down until she encases your nipple within her mouth. You moan at the feeling, hands reach up to bury itself in her raven locks.

"I'm close! I-I—please!" You plead as her constant torture of your cunt begins to teeter at the edge. Mizu pants heavily as she places a soft kiss behind your ear.

"I am too." Her breath shakes as her hips falter. It doesn't take long before you climax, body arching and shivering from the intensity of the pleasure. Tears begin streaming down your face as you twitch with each thrust she gives you. She smiles placing a soft kiss on your lips. "Good girl."

Mizu follows shortly behind, coming in grunts and low moans before slumping down against you. There's a moment of reprieve before Mizu props herself up once more to take a look at your afterglow.

You smile up at her, hand coming up to brush her hair over her ear. Mizu leans against your touch.

"I love you." You mumble softly. Mizu gazes into your eyes with a love so true that it warms your very being.

"I love you too."

a/n: mwehheheheheeh hope yall enjoyed that <3 not proofread will do it later mwehe

[4mrplumi]

(concept: redstart) batfamily x reforming criminal reader.

soft moments with redstart!reader / prequel post

> damian plays the role of being a little-brother guide, having being raised in a situation somewhat similar way as you. little moments like listening to him complain about something mundane as you’re both perched on a terrace during patrol, him trying to peel an orange and the two of you ultimately squashing it open, him doing his school homework while you watch, giving small bits of what you think.

> like this picture, but it’s reversed and the reader’s copying what he does in a way to humour him.

> reader who watches tim work on cases in their free time. asking very few questions that he’s pleased to answer, subconsciously slipping into a more articulated way of talking, using big words and metaphors to elaborate on even the simplest things. he’s very pleased to explain his work without a time constraint or worry about quality, and you’re more than happy to listen.

> i imagine they don’t really know how to communicate appreciation well in a “way that matters” since they were expected to automatically be grateful for everything in their previous family. so they learn from observing, watching people give each others gifts and presents. leaving little trinkets they find or make cleanly and neatly placed somewhere for them to find.

> is embarrassed by being recognised for it though. so the family just opts to keep it on them/use the gift in front of them so that they know they got it. reader’s happy, but keeps a straight face, voice softening in the middle of a conversation just a little when they notice.

> you’re close to cassandra too, sticking to her like glue. you both were heavily indoctrinated by your fathers that you couldn’t place the world over, healing slowly but surely. she most definitely helps you settle into your new life at the manor.

> small things, like recognising feelings you struggle to express, she notices, offering you a hand or leaning into your arm. you are neither willing to speak out what you feel, and she won’t insist. she knows, and you’re grateful that she does.

> dick grayson is a little overwhelming. it’s more of the fact that he reminds you of your other older brother than it is him offering warmth that you’re not used to. out of habit, you do try to coerce yourself into a complacent, comfortable-around-him sibling, but there’s always a little self doubt. he’s welcoming, but you subconsciously walk in eggshells around him.

> he does notice that you’re nervous around him, and brings it up one day when you, him and damian go to hang out. there’s a small conversation, and you allow yourself to open up just a bit about your struggles upon the reassuring nod damian gave you before leaving the two of you be. the pressure of being perfect, the expectations set on yourselves by yourselves, is something common between you two.

> it’s safe to say that you’re a little less weary around him after that exchange.

> now with bruce wayne things are a little tricky. he feels indebted to you for being somewhat responsible for the death of your father, something strictly against his code. you feel indebted to him the way you did for your father, for taking you in and providing you with the comfort of a home and a family.

> but on the big picture? your interactions with him are a bit difficult, awkward. ues you’ll spend time together, he’ll let you follow him on patrol, teach you about the life of a socialite too, but casual conversations are a bit stiff.

> he does try his hardest though, and you do too, to be family. the gift giving thing comes in here too. there’s not much bruce wayne can’t afford, but your small cards made with damian, origami made with cassandra and duke, and short letters describing your day written with alfred’s support warms his heart. the weight of guilt ebbs, just a little.

> if you happen to have a particular type of biscuit, or fruit juice, more often than the rest, expect bruce to remember to ask alfred to keep it in stock. seasonal fruits like guavas and oranges get imported year-round for you and the others, and that little, small extra care just makes you feel a little more appreciated. for doing nothing. your heart swells.

> solving puzzles with duke is a passtime training excersise you’ve taken up. it’s a replacement for the idle time you used to otherwise spend organising things for your father, but it’s comforting in a way other than being reassurance. whenever you get stuck on a particularly vexing crossword, he’s more than happy to sit with you and solve it. he helps you with the answer, instead of giving it, and it helps you understand that mistakes don’t undermine your efforts in anyway.

> “what matters is that you’re trying” is an oversaturated expression, but one you’ve seldom heard. and coming from him, the shared laughter and prideful “victories” from solving said puzzles, he shines an extra light through the dark window in your head that’s slowly opening up.

> jason todd is an enigma. you come across him in the manor library at dark, curious but not hostile about his looming shadow. you observe as he leaves, perceiving just a hint of hesitance from him as he climbs through the window.

> you did not much appreciate him the first time you met him, finding his opposition to bruce offensive, and your siblings slight awkward stiffness around him suspicious. you had considered him an enemy by their reactions at first, a familiar mixed rush of anxiety and impatience in your blood as you repositioned your leg carefully.

> but when he spoke, his voice wavered. just a little. and what took you up wasn’t suspicion, but familiarity. in his shadow, you saw your reflection. he was also your family.

> jason and your relationship is not much different from his with the rest. close, but only to an extent. but you understand him on a level that allows you to feel empathy for him, sadness that you couldn’t communicate it in the new ways that you learnt.

> so you slip into his dingy apartment while he’s somewhere on patrol, using your expertised ghost walking to enter without notice. you feel it’s wrong, and that there are better ways to be considerate, but you don’t care.

> alfred told you he liked to read, so you got him a book you had poured over and stuck into your heart forever. it was a little sentimental, stupid even, and you felt a bit embarrassed. he would be angry at you for entering like this, without asking, breaking in as an uninvited guest. so you reconsider your choices, and leave it in a bag outside his building, tied with a ziplock tie. you hope no one takes it.

> you’re not sure if jason ever got the book, not sure if he’d know if it was you or if he just ignored the packet and moved in. but the next time you see him out on patrol, he acknowledges you with a raised hand, before leaping away.

> it begins to feel like, your happiness is not deserved due to duty, but the consequence of your attempts at a new life. acknowledged, appreciated, noticed and even maybe loved. the moods you thought weak and unnecessary are the foundations of the stability you have found, the complications you faced with expressing them only obstacles in the face of support. sometimes you doubt their intentions are true, but even sitting among them whispers a little comfort.

> you deserve this. there is nothing you have done to not.

INTERACTIONS & Replies appreciated !!

next up: serious moments with redstart reader. the obstacles with a new life after such a violent upbringing, guilt and remorse, missing your old family, etcetera. im really just writing whatever, but do pls interact!! replies asks wtv,, it helps motivate and actually… want to write, since i kinda feel my itch to post on tumblr dying.. anyway,

thanks for reading!!

[coffeefleecy]

Serpent in the Shadows

Pairing: Caleb X MC

Summary: Insomnia is a cruel captor.

You've been having difficulty sleeping for months and trying every natural remedy under the Sun. As a last resort, you try begging - pleading for a little bit of relief. Will your pleas finally be answered?

Word Count: 4.1k

Part One | Part Two | Part Three Part Four

Tags/Warnings: incubus!Caleb, smut, degradation, dacryphilia, slight manipulation, dream sex

Insomnia is a cruel captor. 

For the last few weeks - months, really - you’ve tried every vitamin, tea and trick under the Sun. Melatonin works in spurts, lulling you into a light doze right before experiencing a jarring falling sensation that yanks you from the slack grasp of the REM cycle. Rather than feeling any kind of relief from this, the Melatonin leaves you feeling slightly drunk, groggy in a way that makes you crankier than if you had just gone without sleep entirely.

No amount of sleepytime tea offers you any kind of reprieve. The floral chamomile and mild sting of spearmint soothe your senses, but ultimately create more problems with the extra bathroom trip that so conveniently occurs right as you’re dozing off. 

The light pink alarm clock on your nightstand that’s normally pleasant and relaxing to look at blares bright red numbers back at you that you can’t blink away.

2:09

The silky satin of your hair-friendly pillowcase feels stifling and no amount of switching the pillow over seems to cool it off. With a strangled groan, you turn on your side to face away from the alarm clock’s mocking glare. 

“Please,” You beg silently. “Please,  just an hour. No - thirty minutes. Something.”

Your only solace for the current predicament is that you don’t have work in the morning. At least there’s that, you think. No amount of caffeine serves any kind of benefits for you, the jitters and stomach pains that come with the anxiety render coffee and energy drinks pointless. 

Between counting those proverbial sheep and inventing new colorful curse words, sleep mercifully claims you. 

Your dreams are never all that eventful and for the longest time, you thought that was normal for everyone. The idea of keeping some kind of dream journal used to be enticing for you, but the reality was that the entries would be so painfully dull they wouldn’t even be worth the paper they’d be written on and forgotten moments after waking. Sometimes your dreams are so mundane it doesn’t even feel like you’re asleep, so when you feel the bed dip beside you, your dream-state self pays no mind. 

“Hello, there,” a male’s playful voice purrs into the depths of darkness.

It’s as if you’ve been doused with liquid nitrogen, body freezing into absolute terror. Is this sleep paralysis?

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you,” he promises as he rests a large hand on your hip. “I’m actually here to help you.”

The line between dream and reality warps as your exhausted brain tries to piece bits of what’s happening together into a puzzle that makes sense. On one hand, you’d like to investigate the source of the voice and the touch you find that you’re not shying away from - but on the other, the idea of what’s awaiting you incites a cacophony of alarms and sirens, begging you to listen to reason.

“Don’t be scared,” He murmurs, delicately trailing his fingertips from your hip to your waist, his touch feather-light. “After all, you did invite me.”

“I invited you?” Your voice wavers with uncertainty.

“Mhm, in fact, I think you begged for me to come here tonight.”

You swallow thickly as you realize your body is relaxing into his touch, all innocent on the surface with malicious intent and threats lurking in the shadows. With an unsettling gentleness, the unknown man’s hand drifts further up, purposefully ignoring your breasts to soothingly trace your collarbone.

“I - I don’t understand.”

“What’s so difficult to grasp? Weren’t you begging for an extra hour of sleep by any means necessary?” 

Even in your sleep-addled confusion, a frightened half-gasp robs you of breath.

“How did you know that?”

“I know everything, pipsqueak,” He taunts. “I’ve been watching you for a little while. Poor baby can’t seem to get any sleep, huh? How about I fix it for you? You want me to make it all better?”

“Who are you? How have you been watching me?”

“Hm, guess that’d be Caleb to you,” He grants, callous and cavalier as he drags his fingertips up your neck and to your jaw. “The rest is none of your fuckin’ business.”

“Am I - am I dreaming?”

Caleb hooks his index finger and thumb under your chin, moving you just so you’re forced to meet his gaze over your shoulder. You’re met with a commanding and conniving countenance, sinister intentions that marr an otherwise ethereal face. Caleb’s eyes are smoldering violets flecked with afire cinders beneath a frame of thick, long lashes no man has ever deserved the right to possess. The outer corners of his eyelids turn down to give him the illusion of a charming sweetness, his puppy-like visage further exacerbated by the captivating way his lower eyelids puff out. Caleb would be the portrait of the unassuming, starry-eyed boy next door if he wasn’t looking at you like he wants to consume every last bit of you.

“I dunno,” Caleb pretends to consider. “Do you think you’re dreaming?”

“Why are you here?”  You demand, ignoring his sarcastic echo of the question he’s deflecting.

“I told you, pipsqueak, I’m here for you. You know that I’m right and you know that you’ve been begging for sleep, so why don’t we cut the dumb act? Doesn’t really suit you, y’know?”

Caleb releases his grip on your chin and sits up behind you and you don’t know why you’re so shocked at how large he is; every part of him so domineering and demanding to be seen. He cocks his head to the side, observing you with a calculating curiosity that immediately makes you feel the need to cover up despite being entirely clothed.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? This is gonna be fun for me. Why don’t you turn over on your back for me so I can see you a little better?”

This must be sleep paralysis. Despite his unnecessary permission, an invisible force weighs you down, rendering any movement in your limbs fruitless. Even talking proves to be a task for you and every word you’ve managed to utter thus far has left your throat desiccated, screaming in protest and raw with exertion. 

“Oh, right - my bad,” Caleb snorts. “Here, that any better?”

A warm, tingling phenomenon washes over your body as the gravity weighing on you vanishes entirely, leaving behind a painfully pleasant buzz akin to the renewed circulation of blood to a previously cut off limb. The sensation of feeling returning to your body is jarring and so sudden that you can feel yourself trembling and almost pay no notice to Caleb turning you over on  your back to look up at him. 

“What was that?”

“I dunno, it’s your dream isn’t it?” Caleb smirks down at you, cruel and handsome as his eyes sweep over the newly visible parts of you. 

“This feels so real,” You argue.

“Does it? Huh,” Caleb shrugs. “Guess that just makes it better for you then, doesn’t it?”

“Why are you here?” You press, uselessly covering your clothed body with your arms, the act more of self-soothing than actual utility.

Caleb’s eyes narrow and he scoffs, clearly annoyed with your probing line of questioning. 

“I already told you why I’m here, dummy. Just be a good girl for me and I can take care of you, okay? I can help you sleep, trust me.”

“Trust you? I don’t even know who you are?”

“You might not know who I am directly, but you did ask for me. I just told you, don’t you remember?”

Caleb grins when you look at him with a dumbfounded expression.

“Please, an hour - what was it? Something like you whining for thirty minutes of uninterrupted rest? Come on, I can put you to sleep.”

“Who are you?”

“I told you who I am. My name is Caleb,” He presses a finger to your lips when you try to interrupt. “I’m here to put you to sleep. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“But I was already asleep -”

“Okay, how’s this - I’m here to fuck the sleep into your body. That clear enough for you? You’ve been having trouble sleeping - anyone can see that from those bags underneath your eyes - and I’m here to make you feel so good you can finally relax. I already told you that I know who you are and what you want - why else would I have come here? I’m in your dream, pipsqueak - this is your mind telling you exactly what you want, so why deprive yourself?”

His words are crass and impatient, cutting through the unnecessary fat of pleasantries and straight through your core. You hate how his vulgarity makes you throb and the fact that he’s voicing thoughts you’ve never uttered yourself make you want to shrivel up with shame.

“Since we’re so certain this is a dream, then what’s the harm? Surely you can indulge a little, hm?” Caleb prompts and flattens the palm of his hand on the fabric over your stomach. 

You can feel your resolve dwindling at his touch and judging from the way he’s voicing the things you’ve been secretly desiring, he likely knows it. Sensing the lingering threads of your hesitation fraying, Caleb tugs at them a bit harder.

“Those flowers over there - the ones on your dresser,” He jerks his head in the general direction. “Are they normally there?”

Flowers? You’re not certain – they aren’t something you keep in your home considering the short lifespan and the fact that you’re not great about keeping those kinds of things alive with your busy work lifestyle. Maybe he’s right, then - why would you have flowers in your room? You lift your head to see that he’s right, greeting you with the sight of an unassuming, small vase containing two blood-red roses. They sit on your dresser next to a smattering of knick-knacks - jewelry boxes that you definitely remember and a few other items that are too hard to make out even with the moonlight.

“See? Those wouldn’t be there if you weren’t dreaming, right?” Caleb reasons, his fingertips curling into the fabric of your comforter in their itch to throw it off of you.

“I - I guess not,” You concede, pondering the likelihood and vaguely registering the gooseflesh prickling your skin as Caleb pries the blanket from your body.

“That’s it, relax for me, sweetheart,” He encourages you with a gleeful grin. “You’ve been having some trouble, huh?”

“Y-yes,” You shudder as Caleb toys with the hem of your plain, thin sleep shirt. 

“Oh, I know,” He says sweetly, tugging the fabric up just enough to expose half of your stomach. “I can see it, sweetheart. I can hear it when you’re frustrated, all restless when you toss and turn.”

Caleb lowers himself over you, caging you in with strong, secure arms as his shaggy hair tickles your forehead. 

“I can feel it, too – feel how tightly your body is wound up, how desperate you are when you can’t make that feeling go away. You’ve tried so hard with these useless little fingers of yours, haven’t you?”

“I don’t know -”

“Shh,” Caleb admonishes before placing a sweet kiss on your cheek. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. How many times have you tried to touch yourself before you give up, baby? I know, but do you?”

“Caleb, I don’t - it’s embarrassing.”

“8 times in the last three days, but you seem to have taken tonight off,” Caleb observes nonchalantly, as though he’s not privy to the most secret and hidden parts of your lack of pleasure. “Why’s that, I wonder? Is that why you had to beg for me tonight?”

“Are you really here to help me?” Your voice is distant even to your own ears, small and trembling like the last leaf on a barren tree. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Caleb swears as he simpers over you, tone sickly saccharine and saturated with conviction. “Will you let me? I need you to say it out loud and I need you to fucking beg me for it or I’m not giving you anything.” 

“Please help me, Caleb,” You whine, his hands slipping under your shirt to rest on your stomach sapping the last of your inhibitions away.

“Not good enough, pipsqueak. Be more specific, yeah? I know you can use those big girl words,” Caleb trails his lips from your cheek to your ear and whispers menacingly, “Beg for me to touch you.”

“Touch me, Caleb,” You amend, shivering as Caleb tugs at your earlobe with his teeth, sharp enough to leave indents but not enough to draw blood. “I want you to make me feel good and help me get sleep.”

You don’t recognize this version of yourself, so pliant and desperate under the touch of a man you know nothing about save for a name you’re almost certain isn’t real. Everything around you melts away as Caleb envelops your body, practically swallowing you as he commands your focus.

“Awe, asking me so nicely,” Caleb licks the shell of your ear and delights in the way you tremble beneath him. “How do you want me to touch you, though? You’ve got to be specific.”

“I thought you knew e-everything,” You moan, craning your neck for him as his lips travel to your throat, his tongue darting out to soothe over the little bites he’s nibbling into your skin. 

“I want YOU to know what you’re really asking for, though,” Caleb slightly raises himself up on his elbows for his gaze to bore into yours. “I’ll give you everything you want if you ask for it.”

“Please, touch me like I’ve been trying to touch myself,” You pant. “I want your f-fingers.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Caleb praises, lowering his head to lick the pulse point in your throat. “Mm, you taste delicious.”

He sucks a bit harder into your skin, something you would be worried about if you weren’t so sure this is a dream and sigh when he pulls away, disappointed by the loss. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m just gonna take these little shorts off, yeah? These are a little revealing, aren’t they? Fuck, these legs. Such a shame no one ever gets to see them.”

Caleb gleefully hums to himself, clearly pleased with the way things are unfolding as he hooks his fingers into the hem of your shorts and carefully pulls them down your thighs. You surrender yourself to the feeling of his deceptively delicate touch and faintly register the intoxicating scent of apples, the scent soothing away your anxieties even when your pink cotton panties are exposed.

“Aren’t these just adorable,” Caleb remarks, his eyes blazing and hungry with the unexplored territory. “I could just fucking devour you.”

The idea of his head between your thighs makes you clench them together and with the friction, you register the wetness seeping through the thin fabric. A raw, animalistic groan rumbles in the back of Caleb’s throat as he observes this, gaze locked to where you’re squirming.

“Open your fucking legs, sweetheart,” He demands, his hands digging into both of your thighs as he coaxes them open. “That’s it,  you’d better be a good girl for me or I’ll just leave you like this.”

“No, no,” You panic, parting your legs completely for him in the sudden fear of him leaving. “Please, I’ll be good.”

Caleb’s grin widens, lips curling villainously as a glint of amusement dances in the light of his eyes.

“That’s fuckin’ right, you don’t honestly think you could do this without me, hm? That’s right, good girl,” He purrs, dragging his fingertips up your thighs. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, it’s all over your legs, you messy girl. I’m gonna touch you, okay?”

You nod vigorously, praying your body tells him what you can’t vocalize, the pathway from your brain to your mouth short circuiting, compromised with the intense feelings. Mercifully, Caleb doesn’t demand you to speak anymore and preoccupies himself with the pathetically wet fabric covering what he wants to see most. Caleb maddeningly runs his hands up your thighs until they meet your pelvis, teasing you there with gentle touches that only serve to drive your desperation. 

“I thought you were supposed to be touching me,” You complain, irritation seeping into your wrecked voice as Caleb’s fingers whisper over your legs.

“Oh, that’s just bratty,” Caleb chides, not even bothering to keep the amusement from his expression. “You gonna beg me a little more? You sound so fuckin’ pretty when you beg.”

All of the objections you’ve been sharpening on your tongue die at the tip when Caleb presses against your heat through your panties, the pressure shattering your complaints as he rubs in circles, delighting as you silently scream, mouth agape and eyes glazed over. 

“You want ‘em inside?” Caleb asks as he watches your hips buck into his touch. “Bet you’re clenching around nothing right now, yeah? Would you like that?”

“Y-yes, please,” You implore, legs spreading as wide they can of their own accord. “I just want -”

“Wanna come? Awe, you humans are so cute,” Caleb coos, the fact that he made any kind of comment about species drowned out by his fingers tugging your panties to the side so he can touch you properly. 

You melt into his touch, chasing his fingers with every bit of exertion your body has left. Caleb parts your lips with his middle finger and gently probes inside, trying to gauge what his best course of action is. Instead of the faint resistance you’re expecting, his finger glides inside of you with ease and he begins shallowly fucking you with it. 

“It’s not enough is it?” Caleb asks with a sarcastic sympathy, his smile widening when your eyebrows knit together as you glare at him. “Of course it isn’t, look at how greedy this pussy is.”

Caleb thrusts his finger in all the way before slowly dragging it out and removing it entirely, a thick, clear strand of your arousal stretching with his hand as he produces it for you to examine. 

“You’ve never been this turned on in your life, have you? Wow, that’s sad, you poor thing. Only action you can get is in your supposed dreams and even then you have to beg for it - wait -” Caleb trails off as he observes your face.

“Wh-what?”

“You cryin’?”

Your tears of frustration have gone under the radar of your attention entirely and it’s only when he directly points it out that you register the wetness on your cheeks. Caleb chortles, shoulders shaking with laughter as he revels in his amusement.

“You are, you’re fucking crying! Oh, no,” He consoles you, using his hand soaked with your arousal to make a show of wiping away those tears, smearing your slick across your face. “That’s better, don’t worry - you’ve been such a good girl for me, I’ll make you feel better.”

Caleb leans forward like he’s going to finally kiss you and instead flattens his tongue against your cheek to lick up your tears the mess he’s made on your face. The sick fuck shudders at the taste and has the audacity to smack his lips. 

“I need to get a taste directly from the fucking source, you’re so delicious,” Caleb groans.

“Y-You can,” You find yourself saying, acquiescing to a request you’re not even sure he’s going to follow through on when you know damn well you’re not ready for it.

“Naaah, not tonight,” Caleb teases you and it’s almost like he can hear your thoughts. He sits back on his heels to tug your panties down your legs and lets out a choked groan.  “Fuck, that’s a sight.”

You can feel yourself being lifted with little to no decorum as Caleb sweeps a strong arm under your butt, raising your hips closer to him for better access. Before you know it, Caleb is pushing his middle and index finger inside of you, working his thumb on your clitoris in tandem. His fingers are precise, diligent and practiced in a way that makes you wonder how many people he’s done this to. The thought is fleeting; inconsequential and obsolete when Caleb presses his thumb harder against you, using his other arm as leverage to force you to grind against his palm and coating him with your wetness.

“That’s it, pretty girl, ride my fingers. Oh, you’re doing so good,” He sounds like he pities you, like the pleasure he’s commanding from your body means nothing more to him than a means to an end, but his blown out pupils tell a much different story.

“C-Caleb,” You choke out through freshly shed tears, the sound and sight awakening a newfound energy from him.

“Give me your tears, give me your pleasure and give me your everything,” Caleb snarls, scissoring his fingers inside of you while he toys with your clit. “Come all over my fingers and give me something to taste like a good girl.”

His words are harsh, demanding and congruent with his actions in the way his fingers are working you into a fucked out disarray. You succumb to your pleasure, unable to control the sound and pitch of your voice as you choke out sobs of the name he’s given you and nonsense. The coil inside of you snaps, pleasure shattering like shrapnel into every fiber of your being, weaving into your makeup and taking over. Black dots spot your vision and Caleb filters in and out of view as your grasp on reality ebbs and flows in turbulent waves. 

“Rest now, sweetheart,” Caleb’s voice soothes you as you come down from your peak, uncharacteristically kind. “Just call me again if you need me, ‘kay? I’ll take care of you.” 

It’s almost like he cares.

A beat skips and a sudden silence permeates your clouded mind. Time is working in funny ways and your post-orgasmic haze cloaks you in confusion. How long has it been? A second? A minute? An hour?

“W-wait,” You reach out, blindly, sight still compromised as you come back from your blacked out bliss. 

You feel nothing but the chill of the cold air and you’re suddenly very aware of how sweaty you are as liquid beads at the nape of your neck. As you blink, the room comes slowly back into view. Caleb is nowhere in sight and the image of him that was so clear in your dreams begins to taper off, fading slowly no matter how hard you try to remember. 

A dream.

The blankets and sheets that usually stay put even in your more restless nights twist around your ankles, leaving your body exposed. Panicked, you paw at yourself and sigh in relief when you find that you’re fully clothed, despite an uncomfortable, cold wetness in your panties. Slightly confused, you pry yourself from the linens trapping your feet and stumble across the room to your dresser in search of new clothes. 

It had to have been a dream, you tell yourself, comforted by the fact that everything seems to be in order aside from your own dishevelment. 

In your haste to find new underwear, you yank one of the drawers out a little too roughly, causing the entire dresser to shake. Rumblings of loose jewelry and clutter create a racket, the contrast of sounds an unpleasant dissonance as things noisily fall to the floor. You ignore the chaos in favor of dry clothes, deciding you’ll deal with it when you’re decent.

With trembling hands, you peel your sleep shorts and drenched panties from your body, using the fabric to soak up the evidence of your wet dream guilt. You fight the urge to cringe as the wet fabric hits the floor; laundry being another thing you’ve decided you’ll deal with later, but you notice smattering of a few hair clips and miscellaneous jewelry litter the floor from your bull in a china shop tendencies. With a sigh, you gather each of the items to place back on the dresser, groaning when you see what disarray the surface is in. 

A jewelry box lays on its side, the contents spilling out. You reach forward to right it, seeing that a picture frame has also fallen in the chaos and you fix that, too. Liquid pools around the bottom of the picture frame and you frown, eyebrows knitting together in concern as you try to locate the source of the liquid. You feel your throat constrict as you look to your left. A cracked vase lies on its side, two wilting, red roses sag haphazardly in the spilled liquid as collateral damage.

[xxcallmemaryxx]

You finally met your sweet creature. He’s a big shy ball of nerves. But he’s a sweetheart. What you don’t know is you just told a vampire to stop by any time he wants, and he fully intends on taking you up on that.

Vampire Vessel x GN reader.

For the full experience (or a little refresher)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

(I make some little callbacks to earlier vamp vessel fics, just incase you’re a bit confused reading this one for the first time.)

Under the cut ~ <3

It’s been a week. Vessel couldn’t bring himself to come back and see you. The embarrassment of what he did eating at his bones every second since it happened. He keeps replaying it over and over again in his head. Moping about the manor wishing he could bury himself.

ii was sick of his shit, to put it bluntly.

At this point, he’s resorted to means he never thought he’d turn to. Locking Vessel out of the manor being something even he finds himself at a bit of a loss over.

“This is ridiculous, ii.”

Vessel argues through the door. Standing there awkwardly like he’s on time out. In a way, he kind of is, even if it’s a bit backwards.

“You may come back in only when you’ve snapped out of it, or until the sun has begun to rise. Until then, do not return.”

And with that ii vanishes. Leaving Vessel on his own doorstep. He blinks at the manors front door. Feeling foolish, he kicks a rock and flips ii off. A bit childish, he will admit. But ultimately he can’t find it in himself to care.

He turns to gaze out at the openness of the woods and mountains he calls his home, his safety. Yet all that space and there’s only one place he can think to go. It’s muscle memory at this point.

ii watches him, high above through his bedroom window. Glad he chose not to sit on the doorstep and sulk all night. He can only hope Vessel returns feeling better. Vampires. Such moody creatures.

…

He almost didn’t expect to find you still here. Despite ii swearing you seemed completely unfazed, Vessel didn’t believe it. He knows ii doesn’t care for you, not like he does. He was positive iis words were just a ploy to trick him out of bed. He supposes he should cut ii a bit of slack, he wasn’t lying after all.

He settles into his branch, a branch that’s beginning to feel like his home away from home. He sets his sights on you, his beloved human. It feels like centuries have passed since he saw you last. He can’t believe he went so long without returning to you. You’re washing dishes and cleaning up from the day. Such mundane tasks, he wishes he could bring you to the manor. You’d never have to lift a finger again. He knows iii and iv would wait on you just as he would. ii, well he’d take some time to warm up to you… but you’d be the safest most spoiled human on the planet inside that manor.

He thinks long and hard about iis words. Not to return until he’s snapped out of it. ii didn’t specify how exactly to achieve that. Still feeling a bit peeved off with ii, Vessel is easily swayed into being slightly spiteful.

He doesn’t think twice as he jumps from his branch, landing properly this time, and marching up to your door with such gusto. It’s only then as he stands there looking at your front door does he falter. Movement beside him catches his eye and he whips around to face whatever danger is there to end him. When he’s not met with a hunter, the authorities, or any kind of danger, but instead met with a dreamcatcher swaying slightly in the breeze, his shoulders drop.

It’s his dreamcatcher.

The one he left on your door so long ago.

He forgot he made it. He can’t believe you kept it. His dead heart soars. He swears he felt it beat. One faint thump deep in his chest. A smile breaks out on his lips and the tips of his fangs poke into his bottom lip.

This is what is called a moment of weakness. A moment of complete foolishness. Because Vessel is not paying attention to his surroundings. He’s so caught up in his own world, picturing you finding the gift and then choosing to hang it up, that he fails to hear you approaching your own front door. The one he’s standing on the other side of.

He’s violently ripped from his own head when you swing your door open to put the rubbish out, only to collide with his solid body instead.

The scream he rips from you echos through the trees and you stumble back into your house like a fool. Vessel is a complete statue where he stands. Staring down at you realising what he’s done. He can’t even ask you if you’re okay. The only things on his mind is that he actually finally touched you, and that ii is going to fucking kill him.

You right yourself, dropping the rubbish bag next to you as you gear up to give this person a piece of your mind. But he sees the shift in your demeanor. You recognise him immediately. Because of course you do.

“It’s you.”

He stands there like an idiot. His hands are trembling, he can’t feel his legs, he can’t remember how to speak. He hasn’t blinked once since you opened the door and he’s sure if he could he’d empty his stomach on your feet right now. He wishes he could die. But then he remembers he is dead and all that does is remind him of everything bad about his life ever.

“Uh… your bag…”

Is all he can force out. He mentally face palms. His voice shakes and he points down to it like a donkey. You don’t even look down at it. Your eyes are glued to him and that just makes him feel even stupider. He’s never returning to the manor. He’s never returning to see you. He thought falling out of a tree was bad. He wishes he could go back to that night. That moment. What on earth was he thinking standing on your doorstep. He’s completely humiliated. What the fuck is wrong with him.

“I- I’m sorry-“

He forces his brain to shut the fuck up for one minute so he can right this mess.

“I owe you an apology…”

He forces out, he’s never spoken like this before. He barely recognises his own voice. So quiet and unsure. He’s an embarrassment to his kind.

“I believe I gave you quite the fright a few nights ago. Please forgive me.”

And his apology is honest. It’s genuine. It’s real. He really needs you to know he’s sorry. But he knows he looks like an utter fool right now. Twisting his hands nervously and speaking like he has a mouth full of cotton. He wouldn’t be surprised if you laughed him off your doorstep and sent the town after him just for his stupidity alone.

“You fell from the tree… are you alright? That must have hurt.”

Your eyes make their way down the length of him. He’d be a filthy liar if he said he didn’t like it. He likes it a lot despite how much it terrifies him. He watches you take him in and give him a solid once over. Concern and worry in your beautiful eyes. Worry for him. He can’t breathe.

“I am just fine. I was shaken, if anything. I would like to explain… if I may.”

He offers you nervously. His voice thick as he speaks. He doesn’t think it’s quite sunk in yet that he’s actually speaking with you. That this isn’t a fantasy. That this is real. You’re looking at him and listening to him and he’s conversing with you.

“Oh, yes please. I’ve been trying to figure out what the hell happened all week. I thought I dreamed it.”

You say to him with a sigh, a slight smile on your face as your eyes meet his again. He is dizzy. His arms feel like lead and he is positive his eyes are about to bug out of his head.

“So uh, you see this home has been vacant for quite some time. A long while before you moved here, I put a trail cam up in that tree. I rather enjoy watching the wildlife. I was simply retrieving it that night, I seemed to have misjudged my footing. I sincerely apologise.”

These words come easier to him. He’d spent hours coming up with a reasonable excuse, incase he ever had to explain what happened. He’d rehearsed it over and over again. Despite this, he seriously doubted he’d ever actually tell the lie. Yet here he is. Tweaking out of his mind over it. The irony of the lie is not lost on him either, given that those monstrous technologies are ones he avoids like the plague. He bites his tongue as he anticipates his demise.

“Ohhh… yeah I’ve seen them around the woods. I didn’t realise they were yours. Look, it’s no problem. But next time, just let me know. I wouldn’t have minded a knock on my door.”

You flash a beautiful smile at him, shrugging like it’s nothing. Your immediate acceptance of his lie shocks him. He almost wants to tell you off for it. For believing strange men when they tell you things. For not asking questions. For not picking his words apart. He blinks at you. And he has to get his thoughts back on track before he can answer you.

“Yes… of course. You have my word.”

He says sincerely. Placing a palm to his chest like this promise is the most important he’s ever made.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t catch your name. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

Vessel watches in slow motion as you stick your hand out to shake his. His world stops. He realises briefly that you have quite the tendency to do that to him. He looks down at your hand like it could set him on fire. He doesn’t want to leave you hanging. So reluctantly, he reaches forward and grabs your hand gently in his. He brings it up to his lips and places the briefest of kisses on your knuckles. He catches the way your smile falters. He knows, deep in his soul, that it’s because of how cold his skin is. His eyes stay locked on yours as he does so, and even then as he slowly drops your hand. He swallows thickly, his nerves hitting him hard as he forces a wobbly smile at you. Careful not to let his fangs poke through his lips.

“I do not live nearby, no. I live…”

He hesitates. Is he really about to tell you this?

“… I live deeper in the woods. Private property, you see.”

Another lie.

He hates it. He wants to kick himself stupid for lying to you. He feels like he’s betraying you. He swore to himself he’d never lie to you.

“You may call me Vessel. It is of my utmost pleasure to meet you.”

He finishes off by saying softly, bowing his head as he does so.

“Vessel… you enjoy the seclusion too?”

You ask him casually after testing his name on your lips. He almost curses you. Foolish human. Using his name so sweetly. Speaking it so eloquently. Decisions like that get you eaten. He swallows thickly. He has to hold his breath so to not breathe you in too deeply.

“We do, yes. The towns aren’t exactly appealing.”

He answers softly, feeling good about his answer through his awful distraction before-

“We? You live with others?”

There it is. The slip up. He pales. Somehow it’s possible. He blinks down at you like you just insulted him.

“Uh. Yes. I do. Friends turned family. Much like myself.”

He forces out. Not even sure how to describe what the guys are to him. All he knows is he loves them with his whole heart. And now a human knows of their existence. How is he ever going to get out of this one. He’s feeling that bubbling of self hatred brewing deep in his bones again.

“Well, Vessel. It was lovely to meet you. But I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got a trek back home. Don’t be stranger.”

You say to him with a heart stopping smile. You bend over to pick up the long forgotten rubbish bag, and step outside with him to toss it in the bigger bin. He nods a little awkwardly as he watches you make your way back to your door, he steps off your door step slowly. Unsure if he’s grateful or devastated the interaction is over.

“I’ll-… I’ll keep my eye out around here from now on, just incase…”

He trails off, unsure if he said the right thing or if that came out wrong. But when you give him yet another smile, he believes every choice he’s ever made his whole existence that led him to this point, was the right one.

“That would be greatly appreciated, Vessel. Thank you. Don’t be shy, stop in whenever you like. Get home safe.”

And with that you close your door. Leaving him there staring at it with the biggest grin he’s ever sported. Fangs on full display. Eyes wide and full of wonder.

He realises too late that he’s crying. Why? He has no idea. But he’s so happy. He did it. He spoke to you. You spoke to him. You looked at him, you smiled at him, you touched him. He touched you. He KISSED you. He almost collapses. He has to leave. He has to leave before he makes a fool of himself again but he can’t will himself away from where he stands.

You told him to come back any time.

He has got to go and tell ii.

.

.

.

I was really anticipating this one, I’m happy with it. I hope you are too. Thank you so much for reading!! So much love for you.

<3 <3

[alistairweek]

Alistair Week will begin September 7th and run through the 13th!

Prompts may be combined or interpreted in any way you like, get creative! Use the tags #alistairweek and/or #alistairweek2025 so we can share your creations.

See our rules/guidelines here and FAQ here.

September 7th: Firsts

Whether it's a first love, his first time in the Fade, or even his first time drinking, show us whatever the many firsts in Alistair's life inspire in you!

September 8th: What Might Have Been

Bring out your AUs and imaginations! What if Alistair's life had gone differently? The possibilities are endless.

September 9th: Reunion

We can see Alistair reunite with a lover, his family, perhaps even an old friend. Whether it's a joyous reunion or something more complicated is up to you!

September 10th: Free Day

The choice is yours on this day! Show us your Alistair love in whatever form you choose.

September 11th: Childhood

From his birth to his time in Redcliffe to the monastery at Bournshire, Alistair's childhood is full of experiences to explore. Or perhaps he has children of his own that you'd like to include. All things childhood are fair play on this day!

September 12th: Sacrifice

Whether it's the ultimate sacrifice or something more mundane, what role has sacrifice played in the life of our beloved Warden?

September 13th: Victory

In war, victory. This day is all about victories, big or small. Let's go out on a high note and celebrate!

We can't wait to see what you create!

[sirfluffletin]

For They Can Creep

Summary, Two Time attempts to teach you how to be stealthier. Key word, attempts.

Today's been shit.

Not just shit- fucking abominable. The kind of day that only the kind release of sleep could settle your frayed nerves or the even sweeter embrace of death.

You stood on the ivy-wrought front steps of your cabin for many moments, the cold scratched steel of your doorknob digging into the skin of your palms, you attempted to muster the energy to finally turn that handle but even such a mundane task of entering your home became hurculean. Your legs ache from the constant running, the muscle within throbbing with each step you took, your neck and spine hurt where you were your neck was both snapped and crushed in from the previous back to back death matches. Every part of your body groaned and creaked like the chaffed wooden floorboards of your cabin when you finally stepped inside, almost begging to cave in on itself.

Your bleary exhausted eyes surveyed your 'home', not that you expected anything to be moved nor stolen; you hardly had anything of desire. The familiar scent of home filled your senses - Damp wood, the faint traces of pine that lingered through the whole camp grounds, and the slight musk of your labour.

You breathe it in, your safe haven, your 'home'. Letting it slowly work through your tense, battered body, you shoulders slumped with a sigh as you began to kick your shoes off by the door.

You began the drag to your bedroom, reaching to rub the soreness from your neck, you wouldnt make it too the community showers and even if by some miracle you did, the relief of sterility wouldn't last before you either collapsed or worse. Ultimately, you resigned to showering being future you's problem; it's not as if dirt, blood and grime was anything new to you. You round the coordiors into the threshold of your bedroom,

And you stop dead in your tracks.

Pure unfiltered adrenaline flushes any fatigue from your body, you feel your pulse hammering in your veins, and you were suddenly acutely aware of how quite it was in your home.

Your bedroom window is wide open.

The darkened glass pane stands opened like an omen, inviting only darkness within your sanctuary. The sheer curtains flowed like ghastly appendages swaying in the night wind. You can feel the draft snake around your body, seizing you wide eyed to your spot in the threshold of your bedroom, despite the humid air, goosebumps still began to prickle upon your skin.

You stand in place, unblinking, unmoving, you were unsure of what you were seeing. You never felt the need to lock your windows, you assumed the comraderie between survivors and the shared suffering would eliminate any potential danger. You all were in the same boat, why cause additional strife? So, like anyone faced with a harsh reality, you began to rationalize. To soothe.

"...Maybe, I left it open. It's been a long day... I must've just forgotten to close it."

"Sorry to interrupt. but I assure you, the window was closed,-"

Your body wracks and jolts from the mounting terror, Your blood ran to ice and all of your instincts overid any thoughts as you balled your fists and began pulling punches towards your trespasser.

You swore you heard the voice from behind you, but as you turned, the only thing your fist connected with was the empty air and arms wrapping around you from behind. Firm but gentle. Like they were trying to calm a spooked animal, fingerless gloved hands held your wrists, restraining you as you flinch, and try to turn in their hold, fingers still clenched tight and adrenaline high in your veins.

"It's okay. It's just me." Their voice was soft, like the errie breeze that crept through your curtains at night, yet so calmed and controlled it lulled you into serenity, like calm waters; with something waiting patiently under the surface.

"Fucking Telamon, Two Time!" Your fists unfurled and your wrists went slack in their hold.

"I didn't mean to frighten you, But it was of most urgency that I share this with you."

Sensing that the worst of your fear had passed, Two Time relinquished their hold on you, their lean chest no longer pressed so closely on your back, their cool tempature doing wonders for your flushed, aware body. You turn to face them -their expression was somewhere in-between a friendly smile and an apologetic one, you should have scolded them. Told them to wait at your door like a normal person but, Two Time was far from a normal person and you were far more intrigued on what would be so urgent as to warrant breaking and entering.

"What could be so urgent, so late?" You huff, crossing your arms over your chest disapprovingly, and even moreso a scowl crosses your features when they clasp their hands in prayer and and tilt their head up in a display of orison when they spoke devoutly, "oh, my dear fellow child of spawn, the divine has graced me with a message,"

The taut lines of your frown deeped as the religious libretto fell from their lips, still you heard them out. It's not as if this was new, they always do this—makes you want to tape their mouth shut but you listen just a little longer; fully prepared to hear something batshit insane. The adrenaline is slowly leaving your system now, and your body remembers how exhausted you are.

"They told me I must instruct you, to assist you with your clandestine."

Your what?

They watch you for moments, black voids unblinking. "Your stealth. If I train you to covert yourself, our survival in forthcoming matches will increase favourably." After they've ceased speaking you're both left in the deafeningly silent darkness of your room.

You blink once, then twice, then you spoke.

"You're gonna train me..."

A small nod of their head, you could barely recognized the inky mass of hair bobbing amongst the shadows.

You let out a dry little laugh. "I'm that bad?"

"No," They say flatly, honest. "The divine tells me there is much room for improvement."

Another beat of silence passes, it’s not so much awkward as it is uncomfortable, but you weren't the one to break it this time.

"First, Observe your surroundings, study the location, where the floorboards are loose, it helps to walk in-between them, on the balls of your feet to reduce your surface area. You make a lot of noise while running, so clumsy you are lamb."

You blinked slowly at their words, they were flowing in one ear, missing the overexerted, tired bundle of neurons and flowing right back out of the other. A quite impolite yawn escaped your mouth before you could stifle it. You tensed at how Two Time's eyes squinted at you, and even moreso when they forcefully led you onto your bed.

"Woah! Woah, what are yo-"

The musculature of their arms pressing you into your bedding by your shoulder blades, instinctively your hands clasped around their wrists struggling to unlatch their pale bony fingers from you even as you began to twist and yank away from them and still Two Times hands were firm and steady, their touch deliberate as you were nudged into bed.

"I'll have to teach you in bed,"

"What?!"

"You're fatigued, I will teach you while you are in bed. I've fallen asleep while standing, it's not for optimal recovery, you shouldn't be subjected to that."

The weight of your body against your bed felt grounding, like an anchor to the calm you hadn’t realized you’d been craving all day.

Two Times fingers curled lightly around your blanket, pulling the covering up and over your lying body, even going so far as to push the blanket under you, comfortably tucking you in.

Their breath fanned softly against your face as they loomed over you to tuck in your other side, gentle and deliberate in a way that sent a comforting tingle up your spine that left a fuzzy feeling in its wake.

"Thank you..." You mummured, voice laced, potent with your drowsiness it came out softer than you expected in the late night draft.

"Two, perhaps the most important. Stay out of sight avoid large, open areas. Learn the area layout-"

Their voice traced a languid smooth lullaby into your mind, delivering feathery touches that felt like a balm on your splitting headache that had been throbbing and agonizing for hours. You could feel the slow unwinding beginning deep inside your chest, the tight coil of exhaustion loosening with each gentle locution.

"Two Time. Could you tell me a story?" You drawled out the words, slowly brewed in a cocktail of uncertainty and exhaustion. Their expression was unreadable, their narrow eyes locked onto your drooping ones. One of their hands slipped upon the crown of your head, fingertips ghosting along your scalp, chipped nails catching soothingly on the tangled mess found there and the way your eyes fluttered closed at the treatment when they found your tender spots. You relaxed, letting their touch carry you away from the harsh torture of the day—the endless metches, the weight of your battered body, the pressure in your head that you never seemed to escape.

"Spawn is understanding and kind, as will I be. We'll have to commence your lessons later rather than sooner..."

"Will you... Tell me a story Two Time, stop yapping to yourself and start yapping to me?"

"Would you like to hear the teachings of Spawn?"

You weren't surprised, infact you expected the religious propaganda that was just so... Two Time. Even in your worn out state, you were however surprised at just how quickly you subscribed to receiving said propaganda.

"Yes, thank you... Again."

-

For I will consider myself disciple of Spawn.For they are the Reviving God duly and daily will I serve them.

For they keeps the Lord’s watch in the night against the Adversary.For they counteracts the powers of Darkness by their reborn vessel and reverent crown.For they counteracts the Spectre, who is death, by brisking about the life.

For they can creep.

Long before the conclusion of their story had you fallen into a deep slumber, their constant smile intensifying as the run a soothing hand through your scalp stroking down the curve of your jaw, caressing the fat of your cheek before retracting their lingering hands and creeping back in the darkness of the night from whence they came.