#for something so ultimately mundane:

[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.

[aeide-thea]

so i was like 'i could swear i didn't feel this hideously dysphoric last summer, wtf is my dealio lately!!' and finally it occurred to me, 'okay, fine, let's maybe try putting on one of the ribbed men's tanks i wore religiously all last summer instead of the women's technical tops i've been wearing lately, and see what effect that has,' and. yeah. fuck. 🤦

it really is like. every! damn! season! i get seduced into thinking maybe i can wear just a little bit of reasonably-unfeminine women's clothing, and the idea is appealing because i'm actually comfortably encompassed by that size range, whereas with men's shirts i often ideally would wear an XS but can't get one—and yes, boys' stuff exists and i do ever wear it, but sometimes you're in the market for stuff that's slightly higher spec than anyone bothers to make for kids, you know? but anyway it's just so reliably the case that like. every fucking time i'm like, okay, sure, let's try a little womenswear, it turns out that i can bear it for a little while and then i realize something about it is making me fucking crazyyyyyy. >:|

sux bc the problematic batch of tanktops is like. such a good light comfortable wicking all-natural fabric! that's why i wanted them and they're everything i hoped they would be! and they're genuinely not even overtly feminine! but the straps are just a little too narrow and the cut is just a little too )ᓑ( and it's like. in some contexts those things are bearable, but in others they're really just. Bad, it turns out. :(

anyway they are sufficiently slouchy that in theory i could probably just, like, do some aftermarket alterations to improve the shape??? like i think i really just need them to be, you know, simple tubes straight up and down and not the vaguely /ᓑ\ shape they currently are, which in theory ought to be simple enough to achieve (especially since they're also a little long, so i could just hem them straight and stop worrying about how to factor in the vaguely high-low thing that's also happening). however. probably NOT realistic to do by hand (like. if nothing else i just don't have the patience) and while there is a sewing machine kicking around here somewhere i absolutely don't remember how to use it and do live in fear of it (i just have like. vague recollections of various Mysterious Snarls back in the day). so. idk. blergh, argh, etc.

(i assume 4p would just be like 'try it! learn as you go!' and like. honestly that's fair and maybe i even will, i think the manual is also kicking around actually, but. would prefer to have it magically sorted. :/ like, sometimes you just want a wardrobe and not a project, you know??)

[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

[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*

[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.”

[velvetseahorse]

Astrology observations and notes

- Mula natives can be intense in intimate relationships. Claire Nakti mentions them being energy vampires, a trait that I believe all Ketu nakshatras share. However, Mula individuals take this to an extreme—they deeply desire to consume their romantic partners or loved ones, often expressing love and affection in ways that can be violent or disturbing. For example, Mula ☽ native Amy Winehouse once carved “I love Blake” (referring to her then-boyfriend Blake Fielder-Civil) onto her stomach using a shard of glass during a photoshoot. Mula ☉ native Keith Richards snorted his own father’s ashes. He explained, “The truth of the matter is that after having Dad’s ashes in a black box for six years—because I really couldn’t bring myself to scatter him to the winds(…)when I took the lid off the box, a fine spray of his ashes blew out onto the table. I couldn’t just brush him off, so I wiped my finger over it and snorted the residue.”

- All three Pisces nakshatras (Purva Bhadrapada, Uttara Bhadrapada, and Revati) are late bloomers. This may be because Pisces is the last sign of the zodiac and is connected to the 12th house, which rules moksha and the dissolution of individual existence into the eternal flow of life. The ultimate purpose of the 12th house is spiritual liberation and freedom from samsara. Sidereal Pisces natives are often tested and placed in situations where they must lose aspects of themselves to gain wisdom and grow, which can delay the usual stages of development in their lives. Pisces is naturally detached from material matters and easily in tune with its divine essence. Similar to Ketu, Pisces is often associated with spirituality and higher wisdom. In fact, many Vedic texts suggest that Ketu co-rules Pisces, but I’ll explore that topic in another blog post. The 12th house represents confinement, the subconscious, loss, endings, isolation, delusion, unseen realms, and private emotions. It is a deeply spiritual and sensitive house where suffering is often hidden, but it also holds profound wisdom when approached with the right mindset. Pisces natives are highly sensitive, and when faced with harsh realities, they often cope by withdrawing from the world. They prefer to live in a reality of their own making—a gift they naturally possess. However, they cannot escape responsibility entirely, as life’s traumas frequently force them to reflect and grow. Pisces natives are natural observers rather than active participants, and you won’t often find them following societal trends. They tend to stay alone, forging their own unique path. As escapists at heart, Pisces struggles to make sense of things logically, often relying on emotions and intuition instead. This is why Mercury debilitates in Pisces. For Pisces, life feels like a ripple in water—vast, reflective, and abyssal like the ocean. Because of their tendency toward isolation, the mundanity of life can be deeply depressing for them. They may overthink, fall into maladaptive daydreaming, or become so lost in their imagination that they miss out on their own present lives and development. Once Pisces natives stop escaping and begin addressing their emotions in a healthy way—through spiritual practices or creative expression—they can unlock their full potential. Pisces is highly creative, with Venus exalting in this sign, emphasizing their natural gifts in art, music, and storytelling. Most Pisces natives feel a calling for something greater than an average life and often possess the talent to fulfill that calling. However, their main challenge lies in taking consistent steps toward their goals and overcoming their finicky, scattered tendencies.

- Ashwini natives are prone to addiction, self-medicating habits, and mental health challenges. Ashwini is a Ketu-ruled nakshatra, and Ketu, being the opposite of Rahu (the head), represents the headless body—detached from material desires and driven by the pursuit of spiritual liberation. This detachment creates disillusionment with the material world, leaving Ketu natives in their most raw, primal state, seeking the deeper truths and secrets of existence. Ketu’s influence is often compared to Mars because both planets help break through limitations, but their motivations differ. Mars is driven by ambition and devotion, while Ketu is fueled by detachment from material pursuits. This immense detachment makes Ashwini natives especially susceptible to addiction, often as a way to numb themselves or escape from overactive mental activity. Aries, the sign ruled by Ashwini, governs the head, and Ashwini as the first nakshatra carries the primal spark of energy and mental impulses. This nakshatra relates to mental activity, making its natives highly energetic but also restless and prone to overthinking. Their constant mental stimulation can lead to exhaustion, agitation, and self-destructive behaviors if not managed well. Ashwini natives have a natural intelligence and a desire to attain things quickly. However, this need for constant intellectual or physical stimulation can result in impulsive and reckless behavior when they are not moving or engaged in something meaningful. Ashwini is a restless nakshatra, and when placed in social environments requiring conformity, natives may struggle to fit in, often resorting to sarcasm and bluntness. Their detachment from societal norms, combined with their cosmic youthfulness and childlike nature (symbolized by their deities, the young twin horses), can make them appear rude or immature. Although Ashwini natives may try to behave in a “normal” or formal manner, this often leads to frustration due to their need for freedom and stimulation. Their childlike energy and cosmic vitality are best channeled into pursuits that allow them to move, grow, and explore.

- Venus in the 12th house is a beautiful but challenging placement. Natives with this position view romance, spirituality, or even life through rose-colored glasses. While this gives them a dreamy and idealistic perspective, it can also lead to disconnection from reality, resulting in disappointment and, often, depression. Venus is desires, romance, pleasure, and art. When placed in the deeply private and spiritual 12th house, these aspects become tied to one’s emotional and spiritual well-being. People with Venus in the 12th tend to keep their relationships very private, often out of fear of outside interference. The 12th house also rules hidden enemies, which can make these natives cautious about exposing their love life. They are unconditional lovers, often idealizing their partners to the extent that they may overlook toxic or unbalanced dynamics. It’s common for Venus in the 12th natives to love more intensely than their partners, which can lead to one-sided or non-secure relationships, such as secret affairs. These natives are often seduced by the idea of love in their minds, finding it difficult to accept the reality of their situation. This disconnection can lead to insecurity, particularly regarding their self-image. Physically, those with Venus in the 12th house are quite beautiful, but they may struggle to see or embrace their own beauty, feeling unworthy of love. Despite these challenges, Venus in the 12th house produces some of the most empathetic, self-sacrificial, and artistically gifted individuals. Venus is exalted in Pisces, the ruler of the 12th house, which enhances their creative potential. The 12th house governs hidden things, so natives may have hidden artistic talents that they should explore. They can create art that has a profound emotional and spiritual impact, capable of healing others and excel in surrealist forms of expression, romantic poetry, music, and visual mediums that convey unexplainable yet resonating emotions.

- Ashlesha and Uttara Bhadrapada bring to mind the effects of anesthesia. Ashlesha represents the beginning stages of anesthesia, with its Shakti—the power to inflict poison—a clinging and restrictive energy that feels paralyzing. This is akin to how anesthesia is injected into the nervous system, suppressing consciousness and inducing a detached, deep sleep-like state. Uttara Bhadrapada represents the culmination of this process, embodying the state of deep sleep. Its deity, Ahirbudhnya—the serpent of the depths—reflects the energy of stillness and dissociation of what’s above (reality/conciousness) , as well as the 12th house’s connection to sleep and the unconscious. Uttara Bhadrapada signifies the transcendental detachment from the physical body, much like the dissociative, dream-like state brought on by anesthesia. Ahirbudhnya’s symbolism as the serpent of the deep ocean mirrors the sensation of being submerged or taken into a controlled, deep state under anesthesia. Ashlesha’s clinging, paralyzing venom parallels Uttara Bhadrapada’s surrender and stillness, with both evoking states where the body is subdued or transcended. Ashlesha operates through the subconscious and instinctual nervous responses, while Uttara Bhadrapada focuses on spiritual transcendence. Anesthesia acts as a bridge between these realms, allowing the body to rest while bypassing conscious awareness.

- Pushya and Krittika natives can have features characterized by full lips, almond-shaped or wide-set eyes, which can also be rounded and downturned , or upturned and almond shaped typically deep-set. They tend to have very soft cheeks and overall gentle facial features, even among Krittika natives. Those born under the sheep yoni have soft, curly, or full hair. These natives dislike being alone and will often join others they can’t emotionally or socially relate to simply to avoid solitude. Krittika is in the ♉︎ and ♈︎ rashi, while Pushya is in ♋︎. Interestingly, Taurus exalts the Moon, and Krittika is the nakshatra where the Moon is exalted. Despite their planetary differences, both share similarities, including being associated with the goat/sheep yoni consort. Both Krittika and Pushya are nurturing by nature; however, Pushya leans toward giving, while Krittika tends to receive. There is a pure aura about them, as they are spiritually pure at their core and often sacrificial. For example, Joan of Arc, a Pushya ↑, led French armies based on divine visions she claimed to have, ultimately leading to her martyrdom by being burned at the stake—an example of these nakshatras embodying the archetype of sacrificial lambs. Krittika’s symbol is a blade, and the name itself means “one who cuts.” Its deity, Agni, the fire god, represents purification through fire, especially of the soul. Krittika women, in particular, can face disdain from both men and women due to their sovereign and independent nature. They are often misunderstood and may fall victim to others attempting to humble or overpower them.

Ebonee Davis - Pushya ↑ Halle Berry - Pushya ☽ Krittika ♈︎ ↑

Spike Fearn - Krittika ♈︎ ☽ Mick Jagger - Pushya ☉ krittika ♉︎ ☽

-Jyeshtha natives are known for being great writers, excelling in songwriting, literature, poetry, and rap. There are many notable poets, rappers, and songwriters with Jyeshtha placements, including Ottessa Moshfegh, Joan Didion, Bob Dylan, Emily Dickinson, Jim Morrison, Clarice Lispector, and Sonny Hall. Rappers like Nicki Minaj and JT, as well as singer-songwriters such as Sinead O’Connor and Tom Waits, also carry strong Jyeshtha energy. Jyeshtha is ruled by Mercury, which governs communication and expression through use of speech and writing. It also rules numbers and words and how we use them to problem-solve and convey ideas. Known as the “elder,” Jyeshtha’s deity is Indra, and Jyeshtha natives tend to excel because of their high standards, ambition and intuitive expertise in their craft. Relying in the ♏︎ rasi—a mysterious, transformative, intense, and passionate sign co-ruled by Mars and Ketu—Jyeshtha natives delve into themes of impersonal tragedy, exploring the darker aspects of the human psyche. Their writing is distinguished by their technique, style, and wordplay. Mars appears prominently in charts of many rappers through both signs (Aries and Scorpio) and nakshatras (Mrigashira, Chitra, and Dhanishta).

- Chitra nakshatra is quite similar to the Venus nakshatras in terms of behavior in my opinion. Chitra is all about refinement, creativity, beauty, and enjoying things that appeal to the senses. Although ruled by Mars, its connection to Venus (♎︎) and Mercury (♍︎) gives it a visually oriented and perfectionist nature, much like the Venus nakshatras, which are immensely creative. Both Chitra and Venus nakshatras share a tendency to push boundaries, sometimes indulging in taboo subjects. Venus nakshatras are known for their exclusivity, often socializing and collaborating only with other Venus nakshatra natives. Similarly, Chitra exhibits a form of discrimination by networking and associating only with those they deem worthy—often based on aesthetics or social status. Chitra natives are also highly judgmental, frequently offering unsolicited critiques because they cannot tolerate anything they perceive as imperfect. This mirrors the Venusian tendency to prioritize beauty and refinement above all else Especially because Venus (Shukra), the guru of demons and Chitra is demonic Rakshasa gana. there are, of course, key differences between Chitra and the Venus nakshatras.

- Saturn in the 4th house: The 4th house is one of the most private houses in astrology, ruled by Cancer, which is governed by the Moon (representing emotions). This house symbolizes our early home environment, upbringing, and especially our relationship with our mother. The mother is our first home (the womb) and nurtures us emotionally. How our parents teach us to regulate emotions is crucial for our emotional well-being. However, with Saturn in the 4th house—a restrictive and malefic planet—its energy clashes with Cancer’s nurturing qualities, as Saturn is in its detriment in this sign. Saturn represents coldness, self-limitation, underdogs/outcasts, effort, and karma. Natives with Saturn in the 4th house experience a difficult childhood, being forced to mature quickly and take on heavy responsibilities at a young age. They may feel disconnected from peers, unable to engage in carefree, childish behavior due to these responsibilities. This placement often indicates a mother who is emotionally distant or invalidating. These natives might have been told to “be strong” instead of expressing their emotions. In some cases, they may have served as their mother’s emotional crutch, catering to her emotional needs instead of receiving the nurturing they needed. Traumatic family events may linger, leaving them feeling tied to their family out of a sense of duty. For Saturn in the 4th house natives to thrive, they need to move away from their homeland or create physical distance from their family. Despite the hardships, individuals with this placement tend to develop deep empathy, a strong sense of responsibility, and profound wisdom. However, they are prone to anxiety and mood disorders, making it crucial for them to seek therapy, learn emotional regulation, and to give themselves a break and allow themselves love by building a supportive community that provides comfort and belonging.

- Jupiter in the 5th House: The 5th house is an important and auspicious house in astrology, representing past karmas and influencing one’s life journey. Creation is a central theme of the 5th house, whether through children, art, intellect, or ideas. With Jupiter placed here, this becomes a highly favorable position. Jupiter, known as Guru, is an expansive planet that represents luck, joy, knowledge and abundance. It thrives on self-improvement through activities like reading, studying, meditation, and creative pursuits such as music or painting. Natives with Jupiter in the 5th house feel an innate optimism about education, creativity, and spirituality. They approach learning and creating with a sense of childlike curiosity and openness, allowing them to absorb knowledge and express their creativity with purity and innocence. This mindset helps them flourish in these areas. Because the 5th house also rules children, individuals with this placement have a growth-oriented relationships with children. They may naturally take on roles as teachers, mentors, or guides, and children are likely to be drawn to them easily. Their own children will be blessed as well. However, this positive energy is best expressed when the 5th house is free from malefic influences or harmful conjunctions to Jupiter. Without such hindrances, Jupiter’s energy shines brightly, encouraging intellectual and spiritual growth. It’s important for those with Jupiter in the 5th to remain mindful of their potential naivety. While optimism and generosity are key strengths, they must remember that actions still carry consequences. Overindulgence or excessive reliance on luck can negatively affect their karmic balance. To truly thrive, these natives should strive to give as much as they receive, ensuring that their abundance benefits not just themselves but others as well.

*All these notes are just based off my own personal observations and readings. It may not resonate everyone with these placements

[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.

[solxamber]

Romance Clichés With: Kalim Al-Asim

Cliché: Been here all along

Others: Leona ; Azul ; Vil ; Idia ; Jamil ; Riddle

You and Kalim had a routine. Every so often, you’d sit him down and give him the ultimate spa treatment—fancy hand scrubs, oils, and finally, a glossy layer of nail polish. He’d become your cheerful test subject, and he loved it. Any chance to sit close to you and listen to your latest stories was pure gold for him.

Today, as you meticulously painted his nails in the prettiest shade of gold (because, really, what else for the heir of the Asim family?), you were in the middle of a rant. Kalim was sitting cross-legged across from you, his hands splayed out on a small towel between you, his smile broad and his attention entirely on you.

"And then," you continued, voice full of indignation, “Ace has the nerve to say, 'Maybe you just aren't good at picking teams.’ Like excuse me, who carried us in that last game?"

You didn’t catch the soft laugh he let out or the way his eyes never left your face. You were lost in your tirade, as he’d seen you get so many times. To Kalim, though, your frustration was the cutest thing he’d ever witnessed. He didn’t care if you were ranting about terrible teamwork or about Ace’s complete lack of respect for your skills; he just loved being here, with you, listening to every word you said.

“I mean, do I not deserve a little credit here?” you huffed, lifting his hand to blow lightly on his nails, setting the polish. “A little respect?”

“I respect you!” Kalim chimed in with all the enthusiasm in the world, his grin stretching even wider as you glanced up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, you’re the only one apparently,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with me sometimes. You’re a saint.”

Kalim giggled. “Aw, it’s easy. You’re, like, my favorite person in the world!” he replied, so naturally, as if he hadn’t just dropped a little confession right there in the open.

That made you pause. Something about his tone was so genuine, so incredibly warm, that you finally noticed the look on his face. Kalim was gazing at you with those big, sparkling eyes of his, his expression as open as the sky—completely adoring, soft and fond, like he was seeing every word you spoke as something precious. There was something in his smile, in the gentle way he watched you, that made your heart do a funny little flip.

“...Wait a minute,” you said, unable to tear your gaze away from him. “Are you actually serious?”

Kalim tilted his head, smile never wavering. “Of course I am!” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because…” You faltered, suddenly feeling a bit flustered. “I mean, you always seem so… I didn’t think you actually…”

Kalim’s face lit up, and he gave a little laugh, like he couldn’t believe you didn’t get it yet. “I think you’re incredible, you know that? You’re always there for everyone, even when they don’t deserve it. You’ve been here for me since day one,” he said, sounding almost in awe. “How could I not love you?”

For a second, you were speechless. Your mind raced, piecing together every look he’d ever given you, every laugh, every little moment you two had shared, and it all suddenly made sense. The way he was always so enthusiastic to spend time with you, the way he lit up when you entered the room, the way he seemed so content just sitting beside you while you went on about the most mundane things…

It was like a light bulb flickered on in your head. He’s… he’s loved me all along.

“Kalim,” you said softly, a bit of awe creeping into your voice, “I think I just realized that… I love you, too.”

Kalim’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling in pure joy. “Really?” he asked, like he’d won the lottery. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that since forever!”

His joy was contagious, and before you knew it, you were grinning like an idiot, a warmth spreading through your chest. “Since forever, huh?” you teased, gently setting his hands down so you could lean in closer. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He shrugged, giggling. “I was gonna! But I was waiting for the perfect moment.” He glanced at his freshly painted nails and then up at you with that boyish grin of his. “And hey, I think this turned out to be pretty perfect.”

You let out a laugh, both of you breaking into delighted smiles as you moved to take his hand in yours, his fingers still a little tacky from the polish. “You’re an absolute dork, you know that?”

“Maybe!” he agreed, shamelessly. “But I’m your dork now, right?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but your heart was thumping wildly, and you knew there was no one else you’d rather be sitting here with, exchanging goofy smiles. “Yeah,” you admitted, leaning in to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “You’re my dork.”

Kalim let out a soft, dreamy sigh, tilting his head to look at you like you’d just promised him the world. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes half-lidded in bliss, and he practically melted beside you. “I can’t believe this is real…” he murmured, voice full of wonder.

“Oh, it’s real alright.” You gave his hand a squeeze, already thinking of all the things you wanted to do now that the truth was out. Date nights, laughing over silly things, maybe even bringing him along to rant to about every single Ace-induced annoyance. “We’re really doing this.”

And with one last look of pure adoration, Kalim leaned forward, grinning. “I’m so happy,” he whispered before pulling you into the warmest, most joyous hug you’d ever felt. You were both laughing, a perfect mess of feelings as you hugged him back, finally realizing you’d both been here all along, waiting for this exact moment.

Masterlist

[risrambles]

headcanon that the reason walkers shield is still a taco 14 months later is because everytime they have a mission or something one of them finds a way to get it bent back into taco form. it’s become an inside joke at this point, no matter what the mission is (even the most mundane to the most important) the thunderbolts will find a way to taco-fy walkers shield. routine “stopping bad guy in brooklyn” mission? oops, john threw the shield at the same moment that bucky just so happened to be crashing a truck into a building and the shield was caught in the crossfire. “gotta go stop some bank robbers” mission? damn, yelena didn’t mean for the shield to get used to wedge open the door, john! it just started bending like that! sorry!

and even when they’re not on a mission, they’ll find a way to revert the shield to its taco glory as soon as walker manages to fix it. one second it’s sitting on the work bench and the next ava has stolen it away and is currently using the combined force of alexei and bucky to bend the shield into its beautiful ultimate taco form again. walker takes his eyes off it for one minute and yelena has already got it to bob to sentry-style warp the thing into the taco. no matter how important their day to day lives are, if the shield begins the day as a circle it will be a taco by nightfall.

[heartz-for-de]

Married life with Bakugo? Like coming home from a bad day of heroing to his super amazing wife and stuffs!!

Husband! Katsuki x reader headcanons!

RANDOM HEADCANONS

warnings: MDNI! A FEW SPICY HEAD CANONS!!

—he cried when you walked down the isle, one of the very few times he’s cried in his life.

— he can’t stand not knowing where you are so you get like five “wya” texts every day. He just doesn’t like the idea of you being somewhere and getting hurt and him not knowing how to reach you.

—slaps your ass every time he walks by you, no matter what.

— If you’re also a pro hero? Oh he’s so damn proud to call you his wife—but that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t worry. He knows you can hold your own, but he’s still deep down a little worried even if he won’t admit it.

—as it’s known he loves cooking, in fact he finds it therapeutic. But considering his job, he doesn’t always have the energy to cook every night, so coming home to a nice warm meal? Oh he might just eat you instead.

—definitely gotten bigger with age. Wider and taller, the ultimate dilf. This def feeds into a size kink.

— protective by his nature, but not controlling. He doesn’t care what you wear, but god forbid some asshole hit in you when you’re out. Highschool was a diff story tho, def matured a bit.

— cusses like a sailorrr. Could be the most mundane sentence ever and he just pulls “dick eater” out of his ass and sometimes it genuinely makes you laugh.

— is hard of hearing because of his quirk, so he tends to speak super loudly at times, and makes you repeat yourself 8000 times a day.

—lots of public events, so expect to match at every single one. He’s very big on subtly letting people know who you belong too. (Not that they don’t know, you quite literally have his last name)

—hickeys. Hickeys. Hickeys. Ever since high school, they’ve been a staple. Literally any time of the day, any where. His lips are on you like a fucking leech.

— his mother adores you, and finds it so funny to embarrass him in front of you, even after all the years you two have been together.

“Remember when I caught you two making out? Katsuki didn’t talk to me for a week—“

“WILL YOU SHUT UP?!” Lots and lots of bickering between the two always, but you learn to love it.

—hands are on you constantly, but not in a “couple waiting in line at an amusement park” way. More like a territorial way.

—speaking of hickeys and hand placement. He’s super territorial. Like if you go out? Oops some of his cologne got on your shirt, sorry.

—eye contact is huge for him, in more ways than one. You’re upset? Okay look him in the eyes and tell him what’s wrong. Yall are fucking? Oh you better hold eye contact or he’s just gonna stop everything he’s doing like the petty bitch he is.

— loves cuddling, but has terribly night mares. He’s offered sleeping in different beds, but you’d said you’d rather die before you did that.

—can’t stand when you talk bad about yourself, like will physically smoosh his hand over your mouth to get you to shut up.

— Loves giving and receiving head. Don’t get him wrong, eating you out is one of his favorite pastimes. Sometimes when he comes home from work all he wants is to bury his head in your thighs. It’s just something about seeing you on your knees all pretty and obedient for him that really gets him going.

—such a tease. He loves degrading you, but throws in some praise too. Just such a talker, loves flapping his gums all the time.

-a grunter, occasionally a raspy moan. Does not yell, or moan loudly. He finds it embarrassing. One time he whimpered and he made you promise to never bring it up.

[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

[ncityprincess]

With All My Love, John💌

Another one for the long-term relationship— ultimate boyfriend—husband—partner—father Johnny cinematic universe 🙂‍↕️

This is basically porn w/ no plot. Happy Valentine’s Day! 💘💌❤️‍🔥

WC: <2K

Warnings: vibrator usage, squirting, dirty talk. Johnny and y/n are very comfortable with each other sexually.

*Feel free to read these but not mandatory:*

Nighttime routine

The one before the big three-oh

Forever home

Dad John™️ series (masterlist)

MDNI.

February 14th: the day of romance, chocolates, and dirty, sinful, nasty pleasure.

You’d think being with the same person for so many years would eventually get stale and mundane. Maybe that was the fate of some unfortunate couples, but it seemed as though you and Johnny were only growing more fond of each other as time passed.

The two of you had fostered a healthy and stable relationship built on trust, kindness, and authenticity. You had a partner who held your heart and vulnerabilities close to him like a chain wrapped around an anchor. He couldn’t bear to take your trust in him for granted, and he made that clear through his actions. Feeling the security of those many layers of trust is what made you let loose and expand your mind with him.

It’s not like you guys had a secret sex dungeon hidden in your basement or anything, (although something tells you that Johnny wouldn’t be completely opposed to that renovation project) but it never felt weird to request certain activities in the bedroom. Johnny would never turn his nose up at any of your suggestions, and you were always up to try almost anything once. Plus, being naturally creative people meant that you were pretty boundless.

It started with you asking him to be a little rougher with you sometimes, maybe pull your hair a little harder and wrap his hand around your throat a teeny bit more snugly. After seeing this new side of you, this unabashed pleasure, Johnny felt more comfortable letting out some fantasies of his own.

Ever the film and photography lover, he suggested you two make a movie of your own, right on his MacBook Pro webcam. “We can pretend we’re cam stars. Imagine a bunch of pathetic fucks tugging on their cocks watching the most beautiful woman in the world get absolutely wrecked. They’d fucking love you, baby. What do you think about that?”

There wasn’t much to think about because you were already taking your top off and laying back on the bed waiting for him to set up the perfect shot. That little rendezvous naturally led to more role-play scenarios, as well as fun little costumes, which was always a fun time.

Needless to say, you and Johnny were more than comfortable with one another. That’s how you found yourself in this predicament: wrists restrained to your California king bed in pink silky ties and your legs splayed open, stocking-covered toes clenching into the mattress looking for something, anything to ground you.

And that stupid fucking vibrator glued to your clit making you feel way too good.

“Ahhhhhhh fuck baby,” you threw your head back against the plush pillow and rode out your fourth orgasm of the evening. High-pitched sounds of ecstasy bounced off the walls, along with the steady hum of the mighty vibrator that was working between your legs, courtesy of your man’s strong hand.

Johnny leered over your shaking body, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Hearing you come undone was easily his favorite sound in the world. He could listen to it on repeat for hours, which was why he was engaging in this act in the first place. He figured making you cry out in pleasure with a vibrator on your pretty little clit was the greatest cherry on top of a beautiful day like today. Or maybe he just wanted to see you like this for his own selfish reasons. Who knows.

He played it cool the whole day, starting with waking you up with a gorgeous flower arrangement and your favorite donuts. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead and wished you a happy Valentine’s Day.

Then, before giving you a few hours of peace and space to get ready for dinner, he left you a cute gift basket filled with two new perfumes you’d been dying to try, your favorite candies, a set of Sanrio-themed sheet masks, and the most darling lingerie set you’d ever laid eyes upon.

Baby pink, so soft that it could easily be mistaken for white. The bra top had intricate lace straps, and the bottoms had a flattering cut that would surely accentuate your hips and ass. The set was complete with a matching garter belt and knee-high stockings. You couldn’t wait to start your shower routine so that you could get ready and try this beauty on.

Tucked into the basket was a note from Johnny. It was simple, but still conveyed so much:

You're my everything. I want to spend a million Valentine's Days with you. I hope these treats put a smile on your face, sweetheart. Can’t wait to see that little number on you tonight. Happy Valentine’s Day.

With all my love,

John

Later in the evening during your romantic dinner at the swanky steakhouse downtown, Johnny slipped a signature blue jewelry box out of his pocket and presented the most gorgeous tennis bracelet to you. It was so beautiful that you started tearing up, mouth agape at the stunning jewelry and the romantic gesture. He placed the dazzling bracelet onto your wrist and you held it up into the light, completely mesmerized and giddy.

It was your reactions to his efforts that made him adore you even more. He would quite literally do anything for you, but to have you be so receptive and appreciative of him is an added incentive for him to keep making you react like this.

Which is why he was sat at the dinner table highly anticipating your reaction to his last little gift of the evening. One that you’d only see in the four walls of your bedroom, away from the rest of the world. You’d find out about that later though. For now, he hid his mischief behind a large gulp of wine…

Finally, you two were back at the house. Temptation and suspense lingered in the air. The culmination of this holiday finally led to this moment. The moment.

Johnny, calm and suave as always, guided you gently by the small of your back upstairs to your shared bedroom. Cabernet and lustful anticipation swirled in your chest, knowing that the night was just about to get started.

And now, as the fire in your belly reignites and your moans get more obscene, you were positive that sex with Johnny Suh would never ever be stale, nor mundane. Suddenly, you were getting sent over the edge by that pink death machine yet again.

“Good job sweetheart, that was your fifth one. Can you give me one more?” You nodded your head weakly, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. You took a small sigh of relief when Johnny removed the vibrator for a few moments, thankful for the break from this delicious torture.

“You’re making such a mess,” he halfheartedly chastised, saying your name in a way that made you drip even more. You whined when he ran his large hand up your thigh, suddenly missing the buzzing sensation of the wand.

“So eager…even after all that,” Johnny chuckled. He was teasing you, yes, but he was also pretty impressed by your stamina. His little slut. He loved you so much.

You let out a soft moan when he placed the vibrator back onto you. At this point, your orgasms were happening in quick succession, so it was just a matter of time before you were on the brink of cumming again. This time, however, you felt an even stronger sensation in the depths of your belly.

Johnny palmed himself through his dress pants with his free hand, relishing in your sweet, soft pants. He liked the way your hands were periodically searching for something to cling onto despite being trapped by the confines of the ties. You were so close to the tipping point.

What he didn’t expect, though was delighted to see, was a large burst of liquid shoot out of you and onto the sheets. The scream that escaped your throat sounded foreign to your ears. That was the orgasm that sent you directly to another realm.

You didn’t even notice Johnny turning off the vibrator and setting it aside until you felt him untie your wrists with quick precision and capture your lips in a kiss full of love and gratitude. His sudden kiss was mostly for allowing him to have this side of you just for himself. And also because you are just so goddamn intoxicating.

“I think…you just killed me…and then brought me…back to life again… “ you babbled in between kisses. Johnny threw his head back in complete amusement and leaned back down toward you. He placed gentle kisses on your wrists, though you were in no pain at all thanks to the silky ties not being too tight. He took a moment to marvel at the tennis bracelet wrapped around your pretty little wrist. It look absolutely ravishing on you, he mused.

“Hands and knees, baby,” Johnny ordered softly.

However, the ask was useless because he was already maneuvering your body into the position he wanted you in most.

[freyito]

ᴡᴀʀᴘᴀɪɴᴛ / ᴡᴀʀᴄʀᴀꜰᴛ

✭ pairing(s): mydei x gn reader

✩ inspo: Mountain Banjo by Rhiannon Giddens (again)

★ summary: You wonder about Mydei's warpaint often.

✧ a/n: i dunno if its confirmed that mydei's markings are warpaint or tattoos, but i got wonderin!! by the looks of that one illustration with him and his companions, i believe its warpaint, sooo... i wanted to worldbuild a little :P

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, lots of worldbuilding i think, talk of marriage, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 2k

Warpaint is honored in Kremnoan tradition. Even as an outsider, you know that. Many Kremnoans take pride in their warpaint, even those who make home in Okhema. You’ve always been interested in the importance of warpaint and the different symbolisms. Luckily for you, you just happened to be the apple of Mydeimos’ eye. Not only the most well-known Kremnoan residing within Okhema, but the most decorated. 

The art of warpaint, of course, is deeply entwined with warcraft. Many would paint certain symbols to call for extra strength in war, tenacity, vitality, the list goes on. Mydei’s most common paint was to represent the flames of war. When asked why he wears it, even out of battle, he told you it was to carry the spirit of strife with him wherever he was. It was this question that led you to be more curious about warpaint in general, and what ultimately led to him allowing you to paint him, instead of an attendant.

Now, you watch from the bed as he dips a brush into a basin with red paint– made from a mixture of berries, the skin of a pomegranate, and oil. It is bright red, as always.

“Why do you use red paint?” You cock your head to the side, reaching for a little bowl of pomegranate seeds.

“You always ask this question,” Mydei sighs, slowly drawing the lines beneath his pec. “It is to symbolize the blood of those that have fallen, and those who will. With war, death follows.”

“Hmm,” You hum, smiling softly. “Have you ever used other colors?”

“So far, no. It is rare for a warrior to use any other color other than red,” His hand is steady, and slow, as he watches himself in the mirror. “Okhemans seem to believe it is blood. What a foolish idea.”

You chuckle softly, slowly getting up from the bed, stepping behind him. His eyes do not move from his work, now starting to line the usual paint on his sides. You watch as he does, admiring his hands. So rarely is he bared for you, even as lovers. He is often busy, with little time to spend with you anymore. You haven’t seen him in quite some time, only occasionally texting and calling. You understood that as a Chrysos Heir, he could not spare much time for you, as smitten as he may be. You also understood that, unless you were an ordinary citizen, you would not be able to understand a simpler, more unburdened love.

It’s not that Mydei makes you feel unloved– he practically dotes on you when he has the chance. But, you can’t say you haven’t missed him, either. So, to share a moment, even if it is something as outwardly mundane as him applying his warpaint, it means everything to you. Especially with the state of Amphoreus, you understand that his time is precious.

You lean forward, pressing your hands to his shoulders. He finally looks up at you, pausing his brushstrokes.

“You’ve said before that there are different markings used for things other than battle,” Your hands fall down to his back, fingers trailing over his spine.

“Yes. There are funeral markings. Normally, only family members or spouses would paint themselves for funerals. Unless it was a high ranking general, or anything above those ranks, then usually soldiers of that battalion would paint themselves, as well.” With that, he goes back to painting over his muscles.

That can’t be all, you think. Yes, it’s called warpaint, but from what you have read (and heard from Mydei), there was more significance to it. Art was cherished in Kremnoan records, with artists being praised right next to soldiers. War is considered an art, anyways.

“Just funeral markings?” You prod, earning a huff from him.

“There are other markings for other occasions,” He shakes his head, dipping his brush into the paint once more.

“Like weddings?”

“... Yes. Like weddings.”

“Care to tell me more…?”

“You always ask me these kinds of questions, my love. This paint cannot be that interesting to you,” He leaves the brush in the basin, letting the paint on his torso dry. 

“It’s a part of your tradition, is it not? Understanding your traditions means I can understand you better,” You give him a smile, which earns you one of his own, or, at the very least, a smirk.

“Well, I appreciate that,” He sighs, “But it’s starting to sound like you have… ulterior motives.”

“Me? Never. I just like listening to you.”

A faint, but unmistakable flush dusts his cheeks as this, as he rolls his head back. A chuckle slips from his lips as he shakes his head. “Quite the flatterer, aren’t you?” Mirth sparkles in those golden eyes of his, as he gestures towards the paint. “I’ll tell you while you finish the paint. If you would.”

Without a word, you pick up the brush, walking around him and kneeling between his legs as you start to draw out the lines on his chest. He watches, for a moment, before finally speaking.

“Weddings are quite rare, from what I know,” He begins, his eyes following your hand closely. “And they are completely different from how you’d view a regular wedding. The ceremony is completely private,”

“Sounds like a dream, actually,” You joke.

“Perhaps it is. I’ve never gotten the appeal of large ceremonies, but, what do I know,” He shrugs. “The paint is made with a certain mixture of flowers, rather than berries. You won’t come across those flowers anytime soon, however. They were… native to Castrum Kremnos, I believe. With the city in ruins… I do not think there is a seed left.”

“Hm, do you truly think so? Seeds are very resilient, you know.”

“What, do you plan to try and grow them? That’d be foolish.”

“And why do you think that?” You finish the first symbol on his right pec finally, dipping the brush back into the paint and looking up at him.

“It would take far too long for you to cultivate them. I am sure of it.” He says proudly. “Besides, certain texts omit the usage of the flowers for the paint. So I suppose it isn’t exactly necessary.”

You bring the brush up to his shoulder, starting to outline the little flame-like symbols on his neck.

“There are no physical offerings, either. Aside from the paint,” Mydei continues, craning his neck to the side, to allow you more space to paint. He reaches around and moves his hair as well. “And one's armor and weapon. When Kremnoans weren’t proving their worth to their love on the battlefield, they would strip themselves bare in front of each other and show their truest vulnerabilities.”

You fill in the lines easily, pulling back and starting the outline for the paint that trails down his shoulder. You have done this so many times now, have painted his body far more than you have painted a canvas. He rarely decorated his body with anything else aside from the flames of war, so you knew the designs like the back of your hand. You could probably do this with your eyes closed.

“You know, you always have me paint your full body, but then you put on your armor. Wouldn’t it be much less time consuming to just paint the parts you don’t cover?” You begin to move on down his arm, lining the other markings.

“If I asked you to do that, you’d have less fun, wouldn’t you?” He jokes, stretching out his arm for you. “The reason behind that is because paint binds us to the armor. When you see other Kremnoans paint symbols for vitality or strength on their body, most choose to don their armor before the paint dries. In the past, warriors would paint or even engrave the markings on their armor instead. These days, however, it seems that warriors are cutting corners.”

“But, you allow the paint to dry…”

“Yes. Because I have engraved the runes of Strife, Strength, Vitality, and Precision into my armor.” He nods, “But, you’re not interested in those, are you? You asked about the wedding ceremony, after all. It’s best we stay on track…”

“Right…” You mumble. By now, you are at his wrist, drawing a handful of little symbols representing flames. “I assume there are other reasons as to why they strip their armor?”

“Mhm. Both will engrave each other's name onto their weapons– in most cases, swords, and shields. It is… It’s like the vows. They swap armor, and carve runes into it. This time, however, it is usually something paired with ‘love’. ‘Strength’ is used most commonly, of course. It essentially is ‘Strength in Love, Love is Strength’. Something along those lines.”

“So, there is a word for ‘romance’ in the Kremnoan language,” You laugh, finishing up the little rings on his fingers, before moving over to his left. 

He huffs indignantly, turning his head, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I said ‘love’, not ‘romance’. Anyways,” He huffs, shaking his head. You begin to mimic the patterns you drew on his right side to his left. “That is not all. There is the matter of the paint, as well.”

“Well, please, don’t let me interrupt you,” You laugh softly, dipping the brush into the basin once more, as you make your way down his arm.

“The paint is the most crucial part, aside from sharing vulnerabilities. While armor and weapons hold great significance to Kremnoans, considering Weddings are much more… ‘softer’ rituals, this is one of the few times that steel of any sort is optional.”

You finish up with the little flames on his arms, trailing down to his wrists and hands. Slowly, you begin to trace the rings around his fingers as he spreads them out for you.

“Partners would paint each other. It did not matter where they started, but it mattered where they ended…” Mydei hums, closing his eyes. “From the neck, they must work down the shoulder, to the bicep, down the forearm, and finally, the thumb, the index finger, the middle finger, the ring finger, and finally…”

You finish the ring around his pinky and look up, realizing you had just mimicked exactly what he had described. His eyes open, and he looks down at you with a warm, if not cheeky, smile.

“... the pinky.”

You pull back from his hand, suddenly feeling extremely embarrassed. He huffs out a laugh at this, reaching up with his left hand and cupping your face.

“Please don’t tell me I’ve been practically proposing to you all this time…” You deflate, tossing the brush back into its bowl.

“Hah, no. I have not engraved your name, nor the vow into my armor. That, and I have not told you my deepest vulnerability,” He relaxes a little. It seems like this was more of a… joke than anything.

You sigh and relax, thankful that you have not inadvertently been participating in a wedding ceremony for months. Then, a thought crosses your mind, and you can’t help but perk up.

“Mind telling me what your vulnerability is?” You smile. He chuckles once more.

“We will get there when we get there, my heart,” His smile only becomes increasingly warmer, as he plays with a strand of your hair. “The time is not yet right, either way. I cannot promise you a life with me, until I am sure that such a future exists.”

What a sickeningly sweet way to reject a marriage proposal, you think. Still, when you look up into Mydei’s eyes, all you find reflecting back is honest sincerity and longing. You can tell that he, too, has such a dream for a simple life. Yet, he is impeded by a heavy weight, a duty that seems unending is this time. Perhaps there truly can be a day, free of the chains that bind him to the Prophecy.

Perhaps that will also be the day you finally see him free of the flames of war.

© freyito, 2025 | masterlist | queue | kofi | strawpage | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[diz-eaze]

I JUST WANT TO BE WITH YOU. (yandere alhaitham x gn reader)

; written during 2023. general warning for yandere content <3 reader has specific characteristics mentioned in one paragraph but it's just used as a writing device.

; It begins when he fills the Acting Grand Sage position.

PRIOR TO Azar's ultimate downfall, back in the days wherein Sumerians heavily relied on the Akasha, Azar had a secretary - given his position as Grand Sage. Alhaitham only knew this because it was common knowledge throughout the Akademiya. Who wouldn't notice the bumbling and stuttering fool? The fool that trails behind Azar every time he makes a public appearance.

In the rare moments the two saw each other in official gatherings - him as the Scribe and them as the Secretary of the Grand Sage, he thought of them as an utter and complete fool. What other word could have suited them better, when it was right in front of his eyes that proved it to be true?

Clumsy, easily crumbles under pressure, can't refute Azar's orders no matter how heinous it was - a pushover.

And Alhaitham has no tolerance for those who can't bother to grow a backbone.

So, like everyone else he's met so far, he tunes out their voice every time they were in his general vicinity - doesn't bother to greet them, and the only acknowledgment they got from him was a simple nod.

Nothing more beyond that.

The Grand Sage gets busier, and being Azar's secretary, so do they. And by extension, Alhaitham does, too, with him needing to read through and proof whatever act Azar had proposed.

His days consisted of getting up in a timely fashion, eating a nutritious breakfast, leaving the house, arriving at work on time, leaving work without any overtime, sleep, and repeat. A mundane life with a high-paying job, just how he likes it. He rarely sees the Secretary anymore, if any, at all.

Perhaps they got a different job, or maybe they were fired after their jittery nature got on Azar's nerves.

Whatever the reason for their absence may be, life goes on, and that Secretary completely fades from Alhaitham's mind.

Wake up, eat, sleep, go to work, take a break, go home, eat, sleep, and repeat.

Wake up, eat, sleep, go to work, take a break, go home, eat, sleep, and repeat.

Wake up, eat, sleep, go to work, take a break, go home, eat, sleep, and repeat.

Wake up, eat, sleep, go to work, take a brea-

"Hey," the not-so-hushed voice of a scholar rings out through the spacious House of Daena, and Alhaitham curses them for ruining his focus on reading a book. In hindsight, he was partly at fault for not activating his noise-canceling headphones as soon as he stepped foot into the library.

And yet, something stops him from doing so, as he side-eyes the pair of scholars sitting a few feet away from him - his curiosity gnaws at him to pay attention like something was telling him it will be worthwhile.

And he does.

He pretends to read his book as his ears pay keen attention to what the two scholars will be gossiping about.

"What?" The other scholar replies after finishing a passage in his ongoing thesis. Papers are littered throughout their table, some covered in words while some seemed to remain unfinished.

"You know (Y/N), right?" When the name doesn't seem to click into the second scholar's mind, the other clarifies. "Azar's Secretary, remember?"

Like a lightbulb buzzing to life, the second scholar snaps his fingers in recognition. "Oh! them, what about them?"

Alhaitham is curious, too. Perhaps this gossip will finally bring a potential answer to the reason why you've seemingly disappeared off the face of Teyvat - with no warnings whatsoever.

The scholar leans in to whisper, yet is ignorant to the fact that his voice is so loud Alhaitham can still hear him - talk about being inconspicuous. "I heard that they've gotten arrested by the Matra a few months back, heard from a friend of a friend that it was because they went against doing a paperwork Azar needed."

The second scholar's eyes comically bulge out in shock, "No way!" he lets out louder than expected, as the first scholar immediately covers his mouth with his hand. "Shhhh! Shut up, dude!"

Hurriedly removing the hand covering his mouth, the second scholar whisper-shouts, "No, but seriously! I mean I get that Azar is really strict and stuff, but is he actually that bad?"

The other scholar replies with something but Alhaitham has already gotten the information he wanted, and thus, he tunes them out.

Shutting his book, Alhaitham looks at the elevator centered at the library, if what that scholar said was true and you're currently in prison, then you must be on the floor below. Unfortunately, he's not a part of the Matra so he doesn't have access. So close, yet so far.

To go against Azar, knowing very well that he's brewing something behind that monocle of his,

Perhaps Alhaitham has misjudged you. Maybe there is more to you than what meets the eye.

Maybe it would benefit him in the long term if he were to extend his grace and hatched a plan to get you out of that cell? He hopes so because the lengths he's about to go through better make it worth it.

He's simply doing this so that his job position won't be at risk, and to ensure Azar doesn't get his way.

Your full name is (Y/N) (L/N), you're in your mid-20s, you like the color (favorite color), you prefer dogs over cats, and you like visiting Puspa cafe after work and ordering their coconut charcoal cake. Your favorite place in all of Sumeru is Pardis Dhyai, you love books to a certain extent, you're friends with Nilou from the grand bazaar and Dehya the eremite mercenary, you get along well with Paimon due to her jovial nature, you love sumeru roses, you're an avid follower of Lesser Lord Kusanali from the very beginning, and you grew up in Gandharva Ville.

You moved out of your parent's house after getting accepted into the Akademiya and chose to live with a roommate until you graduated, you immediately got a job in the Akademiya and climbed up the ranks until you got the position of the Grand Sage's secretary, you hate the heat and summers in Sumeru renders you unfunctional, you wish to one day visit another nation outside of Sumeru, you live in a small house within Sumeru City, and you're planning on getting a dog soon.

Alhaitham knows all of this - it's carved into his brain and can recite it word-by-word anytime, anywhere. He knows more, in fact, but he knows you'll find that concerning. But really, it's not Alhaitham's fault that you turned out to be such a blabbermouth after getting past your shy exterior.

(It doesn't help that he likes to monitor your activities after work, too.)

After releasing Lesser Lord Kusanali from confinement and overthrowing Azar from his position, the Akademiya saw fit for Alhaitham to become the new Grand Sage. He tried to refuse at first but after a little pleading and with the promise of a salary increase from Lesser Lord Kusanali, he agreed to take on the position of Acting Grand Sage.

And with being the Acting Grand Sage, comes you as his Secretary. It was almost commendable how quickly you accepted the drastic changes in Sumeru's ruling right after you were released from jail. Laughable, even.

Life pieces back into place, almost as if nothing happened. You're still the secretary, Lesser Lord Kusanali is still the dendro archon, Cyno is still the General Mahamatra, and yet, Alhaitham is temporarily not the Scribe.

So different, yet still stagnant in a way Alhaitham can't put together.

Sighing, Alhaitham stops reading the thesis of a researcher and rubs his eyes in frustration. This uncharacteristic action causes you to pause writing, and look over him in concern.

Alhaitham tries to put down the rush of serotonin that enters his brain the moment you start walking toward him. It must be his hormones talking, surely.

"Are you alright, Grand Sage?" You ask softly. In the back of his mind, he wants to correct you that he's only Acting Grand Sage - yet that thought is overpowered by the joy he gets from you addressing him by his position - a position obviously higher than yours.

(A position of authority over you.)

Alhaitham weakly nods, still rubbing his eyes in slow circles - trying to dispel the unfathomable yearning he's feeling for you right now. It's unprofessional, uncharacteristic, and disrespectful to think of you as anything other than a coworker.

It's simply wrong to think of you when he should be efficiently reviewing the stacks of paper that are steadily growing on his desk. It's wrong to think of you in general.

But for the life of him, he can't stop. It's like a parasitic leech latched onto him the moment he saw you again after so many months - only for a blossoming feeling to fester deep within his heart the more he spent time with you.

It's a feeling he both wants to nurture and destroy. A feeling that leaves him feeling like he's in the clouds, only to plummet down into the harsh ground below as soon as you're out of sight.

A feeling that gives as well as it takes.

Alhaitham has never been so conflicted before in all his years of living. The most logical and rational decision, in his perception, would be to pursue you and if you weren't interested then he'd move on with his life. Yet, there's a factor stopping him - the fear of rejection. It's simple on paper, but he dreads the possibility of it happening in real life.

The idea of him investing time and effort in flourishing a companionship in hopes of reciprocation - only to come up with nothing, in the end, is not only tiring but a pity. It both irks and frustrates him,

Is there any way for him to ensure that you will reciprocate his courting? Or is he stuck with a guessing game?

"Grand Sage?" You ask again, noticing that he's been mulling for a few minutes. Alhaitham merely glances at you for a brief second before he's back to mulling - or would sulking be a more appropriate word? "Grand Sage, are you sure that you're okay?"

Alhaitham grunts out a reply, and you struggle to hold in a chuckle at the way he's acting right now. "If you're so troubled, then perhaps visiting Puspa cafe after work can ease some of your tension. I always go there after work," you pause, gauging his reaction for any sign of refusal.

(Alhaitham has the urge to say, "I know." but refrains from doing so.)

"If you don't mind, we can go there together. You know, I really recommend their black coffee." You absentmindedly reach out to play with a strand of his hair, and Alhaitham leans in ever so slightly. "Especially if you pair it up with their coconut charcoal cake, oh! I promise you won't regret it, Grand Sage! Don't let looks deceive you! Just because it looks horrendously charred doesn't mean-"

And there you go blabbering again.

Alhaitham wonders if you were this chatty with Azar as well, and this time, he can't push down the bubbling jealousy that rises in him. He'd truly hate it if that were the case.

But Alhaitham reminds himself that Azar is out there in the rainforest working his ass off, no longer in the Akademiya - ever. Besides, Azar could never hold a candle to him.

It's clear in Alhaitham's mind that logically speaking, he's the best choice for you.

No one else can compare. 

Alhaitham has noticed that you've been absentminded these days.

Blankly looking at papers without intaking any actual information, signing and passing on the incorrect documents, messing up the times in his schedule, and more. You've been silent, too. The sound of your chatter in his office is a missed presence and he worries at first that you got self-conscious of your (endearing) habit.

It turns out that after a little work of following you for a few consecutive weeks, that was far from the case.

If anything, the reason for your airheaded behavior was all because of a boy you've been meeting in front of the Sanctuary of Surasthana. It grinds on his nerves how cautious you are when coming up to your designated meeting place - as if the boy was your secret lover (the thought alone causes him to mald), a little sweet secret of sorts.

You're jittery yet your smile is undeniably wider in the presence of the boy - the boy who wears a hat and whose Anemo vision rests just right on his chest. The boy with a scowl and biting words, yet you take it in stride, even making jabs back.

It can't be spelled any clearer to Alhaitham, you and the boy are close - closer than he'd like.

And he doesn't want to entertain the possibility of that guy being your boyfriend - or worse, secret husband. Surely, that's impossible. Your official records state that you're single and have never married anyone in all your years.

It's simply unfathomable.

The only way to solve this problem is to confront you in person. Preferably in his office tomorrow.

With the door unknowingly locked.

With no way to escape.

Regardless of the outcome, you've pushed his buttons too far, and like reigning you in with a leash, Alhaitham deems it suitable to confine you until you've learned that;

Alhaitham is the only man for you. Now and forever. Whether you know this or not, he'll do the job to drill it into your brain.

[grandline-fics]

For the valentines event possibly the prompt single red rose with Smoker? Please and thanks and hope you’re having a great day!

DESCRIPTION: Single Red Rose- When your date goes wrong, they come to your rescue

WARNINGS: slight jealousy

CHARACTERS: Smoker

WORDS: 1,419

A/N: Thank you for this request @rosemary-lungs. I can't say no to Smoker prompts and I hope this is to your liking!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

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You were never one to live in fantasies or fanciful notions, deciding keeping a rational and realistic outlook on the world and your own life- both personal and professional-was the best course of action. To lose yourself in ideal daydreams wouldn’t do you or anyone any good regardless of how tempting it could be at times. As stern as you were with yourself, you’d be lying to say there were times you didn’t immediately stop certain thoughts sooner than you should have. Your awareness of your fondness for Vice-Admiral Smoker was something you ideally found yourself thinking about more than you would have liked. Ultimately decided to put the feelings aside, classing them as a mere crush and reminded yourself nothing was going to happen and somehow it was proving harder to accomplish that you thought it would be. 

At first you tried to keep focussed on your work and mission reports and filling your free time on training; anything to stay distracted and occupied while waiting for the feelings to retreat back to the professional relationship it should have always been. After two weeks of this strict discipline you found that you still felt your heart pick up slightly when you spoke to Smoker. Even with the conversation being civil and downright mundane being near him made you happy. Now you had to readjust your tactics and thankfully another method presented itself a couple days later. On a visit to another Marine Base for interpersonal training on an island you were approached by one of the local Marine officers, catching you surprise by asking you out on a date before you and the rest of your unit returned to the G5 base the next morning. Deciding to use the invitation as the perfect way to deal with things you accepted the date with a smile. 

Other members of the unit were also going out to make the most of their downtime to relax and enjoy all that this island had to offer. The only stipulation before going had been to report to Smoker first and ensure all necessary tasks and duties had been appropriately completed beforehand. With your reports and completed training assessments in hand you hurried through the unknown base in search of Smoker. You caught sight of the clock on the wall as you picked up the pace, you’d be late for your date if you didn’t find him in time. Glancing out the window you sighed in relief to finally spot the man in question below in one of the training yards and sped up to get to him. You approached and smiled politely when he turned to look at who was interrupting him. “My assessments and reports, sir.” 

“Thanks, set them down and I’ll read them later.” Smoker instructed, taking a moment to look you over while you did as he told. It was rare to see you dressed up like this, he was always used to seeing you in your uniform or casual clothes but this was a pleasant surprise. “Heading out with the others?”

“Uh, no.” You hesitated for a moment. Why were you so reluctant to tell him? “I have a date.”

“I see.” Smoker noted, training his voice and expression into one of neutrality. It wasn’t his place to offer any comment on your personal life. “Hope you have a nice time.” 

Your eyes widened as you realised you really were going to be late now. Hurrying out a quick goodbye you turned and left Smoker who could only watch you go, trying to ignore how your eager exit made his jaw clench in slight annoyance. Whoever this date was with was certainly someone you really liked, it made him wonder why you’d never mentioned them before. Was that why you’d started to distance yourself from him lately? Biting back his bitterness twisting and growing in his chest, he set about finishing his training, new frustrations to work out of his system.

When that didn’t work he set out into the island’s town, wandering aimlessly while secretly hoping some pirate could appear or at the very least he hoped someone under his command would make a fool of themselves so he could reprimand them. Instead his disappointment grew to discover everything was peaceful. As he prepared to just turn around and head back to the Marine base he paused to spot you across the street, sitting outside a cosy little restaurant. Spying on you and your date hadn't been his intention but when he saw you he became curious about who your date was. Smoker’s annoyance only grew when he saw the person sitting opposite you was someone you’d only just met at the beginning of the day.

Then something else caught his eye, you were tense. Sure you hid it well enough, pretending to seem relaxed and offer your date a smile but Smoker knew how genuine interest lit your eyes when you spoke on topics you enjoyed. He’d seen first hand how you’d lean just a little bit forward and smile in a way anyone would want to keep the conversation going. His gaze dropped to how your foot lightly tapped in restlessness before you would catch yourself and stop the action only to start it again. Smoker couldn’t help but feel his bitterness subside into reassurance to see you weren’t having an amazing time. Deciding enough was enough he approached. “There you are!”

Your head snapped up at the sound of Smoker’s voice. While you stared at him with surprise, your date froze and momentarily choked on the piece of food he’d been chewing. He recovered fast to wheeze out. “V-vice- admiral! What a surprise. Are we-”

“Keep eating, it’s not you I’m here for.” Smoker ordered, the sharpness of his voice effectively silencing your date and making your eyes widen.

“Me?” You immediately rose in your seat.

“You assessment reports were incomplete.” Smoker explained gruffly and you instinctively opened your mouth to protest but he continued. “Get back to base and finish them properly. No excuses.”

“But I-” 

This didn’t make sense. You never handed in anything incomplete. Smoker knew that! He knew you! Why was he-? Then a thought occurred to you at the same time you spotted a look appear in his eyes. Was he doing this to get you out of your date? 

“No buts and don't even think about asking to finish them later.” Smoker continued harshly. “You aren't leaving my sight until they’re completed. Start walking.” You pressed your lips together into a tight line in a bid to pretend to seem disappointed and nodded. Glancing over your shoulder you threw your date an apologetic glance and began to walk with Smoker back to base. 

When you were both a sizeable distance away you let out a long breath and looked at Smoker, finally seeing his hardened expression of the pissed off Vice-Admiral act had dropped and he glanced at you with a small smirk. “Did I really look that miserable?”

“It wasn’t obvious to your date.” Smoker reassured you. “How bad was it?”

“He wasn’t happy that I was late but when I explained I was handing in reports he called you a ‘hard-ass’ and said his commander let them hand the reports in tomorrow. He was…okay. It just felt like I was staying to be polite and regretted saying yes to the date. I was- no I can’t be wasting your time with this.” You immediately shook your head and smiled up at Smoker. “Thank you for helping. I owe you one.”

“That’s not necessary. You shouldn’t have to sit through a date out of mere politeness so I was glad to have helped.” Smoker explained with a simple wave to dismiss your gratitude. How could you owe him one when as honest as he words were, his actions were mostly fuelled by his own selfish reasons? After a moment he cleared his throat. Deciding he didn’t really want to go through something like this again at the thought of missing a chance. “Though if you wanted to go out for an evening with me the next time we’re free I would like that.”

You definitely weren't expecting this turn in events and you didn’t even try to hide the smile growing against your lips. It wasn’t in Smoker to lie or joke about something like this. Gently you looped your arm through Smoker’s and smiled up at him. “I’m free right now.”

——————————————-

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