#i find you in books i wanted to read to you
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soundwavefucker69 · 3 days ago
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I don't share this often, but I am a trans man named Minty.
awhile after I got my legal name change, I asked my mom what she would have named me if I was a boy. she said Sebastian, and I groaned and complained that I should have asked before I got the name change, because I really DID like Sebastian now that it was occurring to me as a possible name and had ALWAYS liked Sebastian, even before my MCU days as a teenager. I had even considered it as an option but worried I'd end up looking like a weird fandom kid that had never let go of the MCU. if I had known that was the name my mother had picked for me, I would have had justification to choose it.
she asked me why I picked Minty then. i kinda paused in surprise because I thought it was obvious. and I was like. well. I wanted a name i felt like I could associate with childhood me.
after the first house we lived in was foreclosed on by the bank, we had to rent while my parents fixed their credit and swore never to get a fixer upper again. so we picked a nice house in our small town with only two real neighbors of note: an old lady, whose kids had forgotten about her, that lived way down the alley, around the point it turned from paved to dirt, the only house down there, who had a pomegranate tree in her ill-tended front yard, and a nice old lady next door that for some inexplicable reason had a miniature horse and a beautifully tended flower garden she had foolishly once planted mint in. she also had a very, very old fashioned rotary telephone. I mean the kind hardwired into the wall, of metal, with a speaker with a smooth wooden handle that sat neatly on top. not one of the plastic ones. the ones you see in old movies.
we loved these old ladies very much. the pomegranate lady was too old to keep up on her yard, so my brother and I would go with our dad to help weed whack and scrape up the dead leaves. we didn't offer too much, she was a proud sort, and couldn't pay us, but just enough to help out a little. and the mint in her flower garden lady loved it when we came by to say hi to her horse whose name I forget and loved to teach us how to garden.
she would send us home with mint. obviously. because when you have a mint infestation, well. it's pointless, but you gotta try anyway. and my mom would take that mint and make sun tea, just on the edge of not sweet enough, bc she was a bit of a crunchy mom, but not enough to reprimand me for sneaking a bit of sugar into my cup after to mix it up. (the sugar never dissolved right, especially after it was chilled, and i would always make a racket trying to get it to do so)
I told her I picked Minty because it ties me to my childhood. I didn't want to just cast it away. I wasn't Minty yet, but I also wouldn't be Minty without those days.
mom hasn't fully come around to me being trans. but she was quiet for a long, long time before she kind of whispered. I think I like Minty better than Sebastian. you should keep it.
my mom has always beat herself up over our childhood. she lacked a lot of stability in her upbringing and thought church was the way to go with my brother and I. unfortunately, she picked the wrong church. it was intensely traumatizing for us. we've had a lot of tough conversations about it. but I was able to tell her that day, you know Mom, I know you think you didn't do enough, but just know I'm not trans because you put me in a place where womanhood was miserable and I'm running from it. I don't remember much of the church, even though it consumed my life. what I do remember is my mother, the woman I may have complicated feelings towards, but have always admired and was always my standard for womanhood, being criticized by the other women for allowing me to read this book or that book and not bending or breaking under their rebukes for twenty years. I remember finding out as a twenty year old that I was the only "girl" in church that got the HPV vaccine, because you wanted to protect me, and not rely on chastity alone, like some sort of egotistical maniac who believed I'd always be your daughter, not a living breathing person that would make choices you didn't approve of as an adult, that shouldn't have to suffer for no reason from those choices. I remember you reading to my brother and I well into our teen years, using your acting talents that didn't blossom into the career you wanted to bring the characters in Peter and the Starcatchers to life. I remember listening to Lord of the Rings on cassette tape in the mini van, even though they said it was demonic when they found out. I remember the mom that let me be a tomboy. I remember the mom that would put on the Wind and the Willows on cassette from the library on rainy summer days and we'd listen to it and eat meatballs and spaghetti in the kitchen.
I told her, you're not a failure as a mother, and I didn't hate womanhood because of your example. it just didn't fit me. you made mistakes because you're human. I never thought of you as less than because you're a woman, and I didn't want to escape the cage you're thinking i wanted to escape.
my mom cried. I think that was the first time i made her cry and didn't feel bad about it.
anyways. not a soft memory, but it feels soft to me.
Tell me a soft memory
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ddejavvu · 20 hours ago
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Hi babes! Idk if this is the type of plot you’d be interested in, but you introducing Spencer to your little girl for the first time, like 2/3, and Spencer’s made a conscious effort to memorise every single one of her books she owns. And when she gets him to recite any single page she pulls without him even looking she finds him hilarious. Needless to say Spencer’s hopes to make a good impression on your daughter now you two are dating, are going pretty well
"Wednesday!" Your daughter shrieks, cheeks ruddy with excitement, as her tiny fingers clutch her copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar like someone's trying to take it from her.
"On Wednesday he ate through three plums," Spencer recites, "But he was still hungry."
"Mommy! He did it!" Your daughter announces, as if you hadn't heard, and as if Spencer hadn't been dutifully quoting each of your daughter's favorite books by memory all night.
"He did! But let's see if he can do this," You grin deviously at her, scooping her small body into your lap as you flip the book's pages to Saturday.
She giggles mischievously, but you glance at Spencer with a hidden grin that lets him know you're on his side. You know Spencer can memorize entire textbooks, and you're sure that nothing the very hungry caterpillar eats can confound him.
"Saturday!" She announces, like a supervillain talking to their unfortunate prisoner, "What did he eat on Saturday?"
"On Saturday he ate through," Spencer starts, holding up his hands and ticking off one long, lithe finger per food, "One piece of chocolate cake, one ice cream cone, one pickle, one slice of swiss cheese, one slice of salami, one lollipop-" Your daughter starts giggling now, uncontrollable even as Spencer continues, "-one piece of cherry pie, one sausage, one cupcake, and one slice of watermelon!"
"Yay!" You cheer in tandem with your daughter, clapping her tiny little hands as she squirms for Spencer to hold her.
He's more than happy to hold her in his own lap and he runs his hand over her little belly, "And, that night he had a stomachache. Do you know what happened next?"
Her eyes shine like she's never read the book before, like she doesn't have the butterfly painted on her wall.
"He built a small house, called a cocoon around him," He holds her hands, lifting her up onto her feet in his lap, "And when he came out, he was a beautiful butterfly!"
She spreads her arms on 'butterfly' and lets him lift her into the air, all the while shaking with laughter brighter than the sun that's long since set and left you in the dark of evening. You laugh as she wraps her arms around his neck upon descent, and she tucks her face into the crook of his neck with a sleepy sigh.
"I like it when you read to me, Spencer." She hums, drowsiness invading her sweet voice, "Can you read me my bedtime story tonight?"
He looks at you for permission, and you look at him for a moment of pure, unadulterated adoration. 'Yes' is written clear over your face in the shine of your eyes and the sparkle of your grin, and Spencer nods while rubbing a hand flat over her back.
"Sure, sweetheart. What story do you want for bedtime?"
"Fox in Socks." She declares, and suddenly your mother-daughter mischief is back as you anticipate Spencer reciting Dr. Seuss rhymes, "I like the part about the bees and the trees and the fleas and the cheese."
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prythianpages · 2 days ago
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Out of My Head | Azriel x Reader
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Azriel x Reader x Eris | Your father, the Night Court’s astrologer, is called to Velaris and you tag along with the hopes of catching a glimpse of Azriel, the one you’re madly in love with. The opportunity for Azriel to show you around comes up and you take it, unaware that things are about to become messy…
warning: this was meant to be cute & short to show your relationship with Az but it ended up being 5,685 words oops lol, some angst, rhys kinda being an asshole again
a/n: Eris does make an appearance in this if you look closely 🤭 I tried to write this fic off as a stand alone so it's still easy to follow but if you need more context, here is the masterlist.
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Meeting Azriel had felt like fate, as if the stars and his shadows themselves had conspired to cross your paths. Becoming his friend had been a choice. But falling in love with him? That was out of your control, like being swept away by a tide you hadn’t noticed rising. 
Now, you were drowning and happy to drown. To let the flood of him consume you entirely. Every time you’d see him, even from afar, it’d fill your chest with a feeling you couldn’t explain, your heart leaping at the mere thought of catching his gaze.
You welcomed the flood of emotions, let it carry you to depths you’d never dared to explore. Your heart was so irrevocably his, you had no desire to find the surface.
So when Rhysand had invited your father to Velaris to discuss his first born’s birth chart, you insisted on coming along. It had taken days of pleading to wear down his resolve, but you had done it. Manifested it, rather, with the help of the moonwater you kept hidden beneath your bed.
Seeing Azriel was not guaranteed, as you were unsure if he’d even be in Velaris. But that wasn’t the only reason you wanted to go. Leaving behind the harshness of the Court of Nightmares, even for a short while, was reward enough. And if fortune smiled upon you, perhaps your father would let you assist with the reading, just this once.
Your father had never quite embraced your desire to follow in his footsteps.  The way he’d look at both you and your brother with that disappointed gleam in his eyes stung. He had always hoped you would stay at home and learn the ways of a “perfect,” traditional Night Court wife, much like your mother. His dreams of a successor rested squarely on your brother’s shoulders, not yours. But much to his dismay and your relief, your brother had chosen to become a warrior in Keir’s army.
Everything you knew of astrology, you’d learned by sneaking into his sessions, stealing glances at his star charts, or losing yourself in the dusty books of the Night Court’s observatory. That cold, stone-walled tower had become your sanctuary—your only glimpse of the night sky.
Though still in the Night Court, the air in Velaris was different. It felt cleaner, lighter. Freer. A wonderful contrast to the oppressive weight of the Court of Nightmares. You took a deep breath, savoring the rare glimpse of the day sky from the High Lord’s impressive townhouse, your father having just winnowed you both.
The sun felt so warm and soothing against your skin. Too caught up in the beauty of the daytime sky, you didn’t notice when your father abruptly stopped. You walked straight into him, sending the heavy box and stack of books in your arms tumbling to the ground.
A hiss of disapproval escaped your father as he turned to scowl at you.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, quickly dropping to your knees to gather the scattered items.
“I should’ve left you at home,” he said with an exhausted sigh.
"But who then would assist you in bearing the weight of all these books, given the state of your back? Rest assured, my arms are more than capable,” you said with a huff as you slowly rose back to your feet, arms overwhelmed with the weight of your father’s things. “I shall gladly bear the burden for you, father."
“Clearly.” Your father said dryly, his gaze pointedly lingering on the dented corner of one of the boxes.
You winced at his tone, grateful his back was turned to you again. The door to the High Lord’s and High Lady’s house opened, the former being the one to greet you. Even Rhysand was different here. His violet eyes gleamed warmly, free of the cruelty he wore like armor in the Court of Nightmares. The smile he sent you both softened some of the tension knotting your chest.
 “Damus, Y/n,” he greeted. “I appreciate you both coming all this way.”
Rhysand gestured for you to follow him. This was not your first time in Velaris but it was your first time meeting Rhysand in a private residence of his here. You couldn’t hold back the small gasp that escaped you as you marveled at the beauty around. Paintings, no doubt crafted by the hands of your High Lady, adorned the wall and there was light. So much light and warmth in this house. It truly felt like a home. No stone walls, no darkness, no cold.
There was a flutter in your chest when you felt something cool and velvet-like brush against your legs. You instinctively glanced down, though the books obstructed your view. And when you looked back up, there it was–that giddy leap in your heart.
Azriel immediately rose from the couch he had been seated on, his hazel eyes meeting yours before they dropped to the weight in your arms. With a few swift steps, he was in front of you, plucking the boxes and books from your grip as though they weighed nothing. You exhaled softly, your thanks barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears.
Azriel smiled, shadows curling gently around him as he shifted closer. “I wasn’t sure you’d be coming along today,” he murmured.
“Neither was I,” you admitted, turning your head toward him as you continued to walk. “But I’m glad I did.”
“So am I,” Azriel said.
Your cheeks burned at his words, and you quickly averted your gaze. Azriel was glad you were here. Perhaps, even waiting for you, hoping for you to show up. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Perhaps it was proof of what you’d always suspected—that the bond you felt pulling you toward him wasn’t one-sided. A spark of vindication flared as you imagined Eris sneering at you from some dark corner of your mind. If only he were here to witness this moment. To see just how wrong he’d been.
Azriel did like you and it was only a matter of time before it evolved into something more.
You frowned, shaking the thought away. Why were you even thinking about Eris? And since when did proving anything to him matter?
“Y/n.” Your father’s sharp tone dragged you back to reality. “The books.”
“Oh,” you breathed, glancing at Azriel, who still held them. Before you could speak, your father’s gaze darkened as he realized the task you were supposed to handle had been passed off.
Azriel’s jaw tightened but he said nothing as he handed the books and boxes over.
You moved to follow your father into the study, but he blocked your path, his glare cutting through you. “Stay here and don’t cause trouble,” he said before the door shut with a resounding thud.
You flinched, staring at the closed door. “Sweet Cauldron,” you muttered under your breath, “did Mercury retrograde move into his mood?”
A shadow curled around your wrist, the soft caress of it soothing the sting of your father’s dismissal. The corner of your lips lifted slightly. Azriel had told you once how the shadows came to him during a time of unbearable darkness, offering comfort when nothing else could. They showed him that darkness wasn’t inherently wicked, that it could hold its own kind of solace and strength.
Azriel had also told you that his shadows didn’t approach others. At least not like this, so openly and friendly. To them, you were one of the few exceptions, having met them before you properly acquainted yourself with their master.
You often wondered why. Did they sense the sorrow you tried to bury beneath and conceal? The longing that seeped into your soul–longing not just for their master but for freedom, for a life beyond the suffocating confines of the Court of Nightmares?
Your gaze lifted, finding Azriel’s attention focused on the tendril wrapped around your wrist. His hazel eyes darkened slightly, thoughtful, as if trying to decipher a mystery.
“Well, what am I supposed to do now?”
Azriel blinked, his attention falling back to you, gaze softening. The siphons on his leathers caught the light and your eye. You followed the movement of his arms as he slid his hands into the pocket of his leathers and wondered what they’d look like in casual clothing. And how far did those tattoos stretch, the ones that peeked above his collar and disappeared into those leathers? 
“We could go for a walk?”
Your brows lifted in surprise. “A walk?”
Azriel sauntered closer to you and a tingly sensation bubbled up in your stomach. “It’s a beautiful day outside and I would hate for you to waste it in here.”
“But my father…”
“He doesn’t have to know,” Azriel replied with a small, sly grin that felt almost boyish, his shadows dancing around him. He then gestured toward the door to Rhysand’s study, where some of his shadows had already slithered beneath the gap, lying in wait.  “Your father will be in there for a while. And besides, I did promise you I’d show you around, didn’t I?”
You bit your lip in contemplation, gaze flickering between the door and Azriel. This was what you’d wanted, been hoping for, wasn’t it? A chance to see Azriel, and now here he was, offering you his time. Your heart leaped at the opportunity, already screaming yes.
But your mind wasn’t so easily swayed. What if your father needed you? Wouldn’t this be your perfect chance to prove your worth, to show him how capable you were? Then again, the way he had dismissed you earlier, slamming the door in your face, made it clear he wasn’t expecting or even wanting your help…
“Only if you’d like, of course,” Azriel added, his tone soft. He must’ve sensed your troubled thoughts. “I can always keep you company here instead.”
The flutter in your chest returned with full force. Azriel seemed to really want to spend time with you. Alone. And as much as you admired the beauty of the High Lord’s house, the promise of fresh air, open skies, and Azriel’s company was too tempting to resist.
You found yourself nodding, your heart overriding your head. “I think I’d like to go for a walk.”
**
Velaris continued to take your breath away. 
Children darted between market stalls, their faces alight with pure delight as they chased one another without fear. So incredibly and unbelievably different to the cold silence and rigid rules of propriety in Hewn City. Here, no one glanced over their shoulder with suspicion or hurried along with their head bowed.
The people of Velaris moved freely. Kindness radiated from strangers who greeted one another warmly, who paused to chat in the bustling markets or helped an elder carry their bags. Artists lined the streets, painting the city’s beauty on canvas while musicians filled the air with beautiful melodies.
Azriel led you through the city, showing you as many places he could. He took you to a small bakery first, where he swore the best chocolate croissants were made. Then, to a cafe that sold a variety of appetizing teas. You drank it all in, committing the wonders of Velaris to memory.
As you walked along a bridge, the river’s gentle current caught your eye. It was broad daylight yet, the water glimmered like liquid starlight. You paused, resting against the bridge’s railings. Azriel moved to stand beside you, tucking in his wings so they wouldn’t bump against you. 
You couldn’t help but think how unfair life could be. For a place such as Hewn City to exist at the same time as this one. Both of the same court, yet so divided. And why had you been born in the wrong one? 
Azriel picked up on the way your expression had fallen. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you said and at the way Azriel’s eyes watched you closely, you knew he was not convinced. You let out a soft sigh, relenting.  
“It’s just…I thought places like this only existed in my dreams,” you glanced down at your hands. “And now, I just can’t help but dread my attendance at the next Court of Nightmare’s ball even more…when I could be here instead, watching the stars from the City of Starlight itself..free of any worry, any burdens.”
Azriel frowned at the hidden implication of your words.
A dark tendril fluttered toward you, brushing the hair that had fallen back behind your ear. Another softly brushed against your face and wiped a stray tear away. More went to you, wrapping around your hands, seeking to give you comfort and you honestly weren’t sure if it was of their own will or Azriel’s.
Their comfort brought you back to the fateful night you first met them. You’d known of them–of the Night Court’s shadowsinger, at least–long before you actually knew them. The same way you had known Cassian was the Night Court’s leading general and Morrigan, the court overseer.
**
Things had changed after the events under the mountain. High Lord Rhysand had gathered the Court of Nightmares council, a tense meeting filled with bitter accusations thrown across the room. Keir and a few other noble lords, including your father, sat around the table, each one arguing fiercely over who did what under Amarantha’s rule.
As the heated exchange unfolded, your father’s loyalty was questioned, and the words left you unsettled. You had nearly spilled wine over one of the lords in your discomfort, hands trembling as you failed to properly grip the chalice.
But then, a dark shape emerged from the shadows, winding its way around your wrist like a silent guardian. The shadow stayed there, curling around you in such a way that was strangely comforting.
You had snuck glances at the shadowsinger then. 
Azriel stood just behind Rhysand, his face a stoic mask. His attention was elsewhere, either unaware or pretending to be, of the shadow that had strayed from him and wrapped around you.
A break was called. And then, Keir, always the one to provoke, threw an insult at your father. You had no control over your tongue, the words slipping from you without thought. It was in defense of your family but speaking out of turn was a dangerous thing for a female to do. Especially in this court. 
And though you had done it in your father’s defense, he did not return the favor. His face twisted in a mixture of disgust and disapproval, making you feel smaller than you ever had.
Keir’s face reddened with rage and as he glared at you, the shadow around your wrist tightened. Azriel’s eyes flashed, a cold, sharp stare locking onto Keir. It was the closest thing to protection anyone had offered you in this ruthless court. It left you stunned and wide-eyed. 
You had been quickly dismissed by your father then. The weight of your court’s cruelty pressed down on you, suffocating. You fled, finding an empty room, locking yourself away in a cold, lonely corner of the building.
And then the tears came. You didn’t even notice the darkness that had formed around you, so accustomed to the shadows yourself. But this wasn’t the same darkness. This one was… different. Comforting. Protective.
You could only stare at them in awe, one hand reaching upwards to touch the shadows.
But when the door creaked open, your hand fell back to your side. Fear had risen in your throat as your gaze shot to the tall figure in the doorway. You shifted backwards, your back hitting the stone wall behind you, fearing the worst. It was the shadowsinger. And he had come to punish you on behalf of your father.
But he did no such thing.
His eyes swept over the shadows surrounding you—his shadows. The mask of indifference he always wore slipped for just a moment. A faint furrow appeared between his brows, shock flashing in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, sending the shadows a look that had them slithering back to him, albeit reluctantly. “If they’ve scared you. They don’t normally do this…are you alright?”
You blinked the tears from your eyes. “You’re not going to punish me?”
His brow furrowed deeper, confusion crossing his face. “Punish you? For what?”
There was a flicker of recognition in his gaze, followed by a soft exhale. He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. His shadows swirled around him, some curling around his ear, whispering to him. Whatever they whispered to him had his expression softening.
“If anyone needs punishment, it’s Keir. For having the nerve to talk to you like that.”
Azriel took your silence as an invitation. He lowered himself, slowly, attentive to the way your breath hitched. Finding no resistance from you, he flared his wings slightly to allow him to settle on the floor across from you. His boots brushed against your shoes, and he gave a quiet apology. Others had done much worse and yet, no one had ever apologized to you.
“I’m Azriel,” he told you with a small smile, quickly adjusting himself to the cramped space. “You’ve met my shadows. Though I control them, they don’t always listen. Sometimes, they follow their own will. I really hope they didn’t frighten you.”
You were still frozen in disbelief, but in that moment, something inside you shifted. A spark of hope—a spark you hadn’t known existed in the Court of Nightmares, didn’t know could exist.  
“They didn’t. They’re nice,” you admitted quietly, gaze following the movement of his shadows. Your eyes then met Azriel’s, surprised at the warmth you saw in them.
And then slowly, you felt your body relax. “I’m y/n…”
**
A shadow wrapped itself around your wrist, squeezing you gently, pulling you from your thoughts. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same one from that night.
“Sorry,” Azriel murmured sheepishly, the same way he always did when his shadows caught him off guard.  “They really like you.”
The shadow unraveled from your wrist, slowly and reluctantly. It returned to Azriel, the others that had begun to surround you doing the same.
“S’okay,” you shrugged, though a small wave of disappointment settled over you at the thought of his shadows acting on their own will and not his. “I like them too. My little friends, they keep me company during those dreaded court events. Them and Eris, though the latter isn’t exactly one I welcome…”
Azriel’s body tensed at the mention of the Autumn male.
“But it’s strange,” you continued, not sure why you were telling Azriel this. “Despite all the insults he throws my way, he’s somehow kinder than all the other males at court. Maybe Autumn males are–”
“Please, don’t ever pair Eris and the word ‘kind’ in the same sentence,” Azriel interjected, his tone filled with disbelief. “You have to be careful around him, Y/n. I don’t know why he gravitates toward you…” Your heart stuttered in your chest and Azriel's gaze hardened. “But he’s not to be trusted. If he continues to bother you…”
Was that… jealousy? The thought made your pulse quicken, but you kept your expression steady.
“He’s fine,” you said, your voice a little too casual. Azriel went still, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. You felt the heat rise in your neck, and you hastily added, “I mean—it's fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Doesn’t mean you have to,” Azriel insisted. He turned to face you fully, and your stomach fluttered at the intensity in his gaze. “I can handle him for you.”  
Azriel’s presence alone was enough to make anyone think twice before crossing you. It sure kept Keir from lashing back at you all those years ago and the handsy, sickening males away from you during court events. You knew he would handle Eris without hesitation. So you should’ve said yes, and accepted his offer. 
But, as the words settled on your tongue, you hesitated. You weren’t sure you wanted him to.
However strange and uncomfortable your encounters with Eris often were, there was something intriguing about him. Something that pulled at you despite his sharp words and caustic demeanor. It was almost like a game, a dance of sorts, and you found yourself drawn to it. To him, more than you cared to admit.
A small part of you wanted to continue this twisted back-and-forth with him. He was not a welcome companion but one whose absence would, much to your denial or disbelief, go noticed. The way he challenged you, made your pulse quicken, even when you didn’t want it to. The way his eyes lingered just a little too long, and how he always seemed to know exactly how to get under your skin…
No. You didn’t want Azriel to step in. Not yet. Not while this strange curiosity about Eris still simmered beneath your skin. 
“I can handle it,” you murmured, though the words felt more like a reassurance to yourself than to him. Your gaze trailed after the fae strolling along the river’s edge. Before Azriel could protest, you turned to him with a smile, changing the conversation. “Can we walk along the shore?”
The Sidra river was even lovelier up-close. With the sun beginning to set, the sky blushed in hues of pinks and oranges and you felt as if you were walking through a dream. A dream you didn’t want to wake up from. Azriel walked quietly beside you, the tension from earlier gone.
You breathed in deeply, reveling in the sweet mixture of fresh air and Azriel’s scent. The sound of water rippling against the shore was just as soothing as the early evening breeze. Your gaze fell on a rock ahead, its smooth surface glimmering in the fading light, and you quickly bent down to pick it up. 
“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, watching as the stone sparkled like starlight cupped in your hand.
“It’s a rock,” Azriel said drily.
You couldn’t help but grin, lifting the rock to show him. “It’s not just any rock,” you corrected him. “It’s a rock from Velaris. It’ll make a perfect addition to my growing collection of–”
“Rocks,” Azriel finished for you, amusement dancing in his eyes.
He knew about your rock collection. Of course, he knew. How could he not? Azriel had been the one to enable it. It had started as a joke, a silly request from you when he had mentioned visiting Spring. You had asked for a souvenir, half expecting him to politely decline.  
"What could you possibly want from Spring?" he had asked. “A rock?”
And out of all the things you could’ve chosen, you had simply nodded your head. “Sure.”
The way he had returned from his mission, slipping a smooth rock from his leathers and placing it in your hand, had been so unexpected, so sweet. You’d gasped, unsure whether to laugh or cry. He had remembered. 
And when he mentioned going to Winter Court next, you had shyly grinned at him, asking for another “souvenir.” What had started as an innocent collection had become something far more significant to you. Azriel didn’t know but that rock from Spring was the first gift you had ever received in years–decades, almost.
You treasured those silly rocks, keeping them lined up neatly on your dresser. You even painted them with little designs—daisies on the rock from Spring, a tiny shell on the one from Summer, and snowflakes on the one from Winter.
“This may actually finish my collection,” you mused, slipping the rock into the pocket of your skirts, your smile soft.
“I thought I had brought you one already?”
“Must’ve slipped your mind,” you replied with a playful shrug of your shoulders.
Azriel’s expression shifts into one of mock seriousness. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said, bowing his head before his voice turned teasing. “What will I bring you now, then? I’ll be flying out to Dawn next week. You sure you don’t want another rock from there? Or perhaps, this time, a jar of dirt?”
You rolled your eyes, the motion automatic but immediately followed by a sharp pang in your chest as your heart seemed to freeze. A lady, especially one from your court, rolling her eyes at a male? No matter how familiar you could be with a male, a gesture such as this was dangerous and unforgiving.
But Azriel only chuckled, his gaze warm and unbothered. Relief rushed through you, leaving you momentarily breathless, though you tried to play it off with a dry tone. “Ha,” you said, your thoughts already drifting to other possibilities. “But, if you are going to Dawn…”
He tilted his head, eyebrows raising slightly as his lips curved. “Go on.”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to a feather…”
His dark brows furrowed in confusion, and you felt your heart beat louder in your chest. “A feather?” he repeated.
You shrugged again, trying to look casual about it. “A feather from a swan from Dawn. They’re native to the court and mate for life, you know. Some see them as a symbol for love and fidelity. I’d like a feather so that I can add it to my Aphrodite altar.”
“I see.” Azriel’s gaze had turned thoughtful, clearly processing the information. There was a brief pause, and you held your breath, suddenly aware of how ridiculous your request might sound…
 “Y/n, are you… practicing witchcraft?”
You react almost too quickly, it’s suspicious. 
“No,” you said, shaking your head with a small laugh. Even though you had sought out the help of a witch not too long ago, something you’d probably take to the grave with you, given the failed results. Or the fact that this feather would be an offering given with intent to Aphrodite for luck and blessings in love…
”Well, not exactly, I just–it’s a…”
“I don’t think I want to know,” Azriel mused with a chuckle, saving you from whatever disaster of an excuse you could come up with. The sound of his laughter was like a release, the tension in your shoulders easing. “If it’s a Swan’s feather you want, then I’ll make sure I bring one to you.”
There was something in his tone, the certainty in which he said the words, that had warmth pooling in your stomach. It was the kind of warmth that spread quickly, making your whole body feel lighter and creeping up into your chest. 
You turned to look at him. “Really?”
“Really.”
Your feet faltered as the rush of emotions made you dizzy. You barely noticed the uneven ground beneath you, and before you could regain your balance, you felt yourself tipping forward. Azriel’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and pulling you steady against him.
Your breath hitched at the feeling of his touch, gaze falling to where his hand rested on your arm. Slowly, your gaze trailed upwards. Azriel’s gaze was soft, his eyes searching yours in that way that made your heart race. 
“Thank you,” you breathed.
“Of course.”
You were both so close now, you could feel the heat of his breath. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. The sound of the river faded, replaced by the pounding of your heart. His free hand brushed against yours, a touch that sent a spark skittering across your skin.
And then, it happened.
A sharp, sudden tightening in your chest.
It wasn’t the pleasant flutter you’d grown accustomed to in Azriel’s presence. No, this was something else entirely. A pull, intense and demanding, like an unseen thread yanking you backward. You gasped, flinching out of Azriel’s grip, who immediately let you go when he felt your resistance.
Your hand flew to your chest. Azriel’s brows furrowed in concern and his shadows stirred anxiously, circling you as if they could shield you from whatever had caused your distress. “Are you alright?”
“I… I don’t know,” you murmured, your fingers pressing against the spot where the ache had settled, desperate to soothe the inexplicable burning. “But I think I’m fine now. ”
You weren’t sure if you were reassuring him or yourself. But you pushed the feeling aside, turning back to Azriel with an uncertain smile.
He took a hesitant step closer, hand hovering over your shoulder. “Are you sure? I can take you to a healer–”
“No,” you immediately shook your head, eyes widening. Calling for a healer meant risking your father finding out you had not heeded to his order of staying put, of you not causing trouble. You’d rather suffer the consequences of whatever sickness had suddenly struck you than be left to deal with your father’s reproach.
“I’m okay. Could we–could we head back now?”
**
Azriel's pov
Worry continued to brew in Azriel’s mind as he watched you settle onto an armchair, hand still rubbing at your chest. His shadows twitched restlessly, curling tighter around him. You had always been easy to read but he found himself struggling to decipher the distant look in your eyes. You hadn’t even looked his way once since he winnowed you both back to the townhouse.
He parted his lips, ready to urge you to see a healer, despite your earlier protest. But a shadow curled itself around his ear and he made himself busy with the book in his hand instead.
The door to Rhysand’s study opened. Azriel’s shadows whispered to him as they noted the way you had stiffened the moment your father stepped out and forced a smile onto your face. He was always unsettled by your father’s indifference to you, his grip on the book he held tightening.
"Let’s go home."
Lord Damus’s voice was detached as he dumped the books in his arm into yours. Azriel noticed immediately that it was a smaller load than what you had arrived with, but that did little to ease him as you winced under the weight.
He moved instinctively to help you, but the harsh stare Rhysand shot at him from across the room made him pause. Azriel blinked, momentarily stunned by the anger that flashed in Rhysand’s eyes.
"Thank you for your time, Lord Damus. I wish you both a safe trip back," Rhysand said, his voice smooth and composed, contrasting the look he had sent Azriel.
Lord Damus bowed in respect and you did the same. Albeit, with a struggle, given all the weight in your arms. Some of Azriel’s shadows darted toward you, hiding within the shadows of the sitting room. They settled underneath the books you carried, helping you silently. And at the way your arms eased, so did Azriel’s.
It was short lived because as soon as you and your father disappeared, Rhysand turned back to him.
“My office. Now.”
Rhysand’s tone left no room for questioning or contemplating. Azriel’s shadows hissed at the sharpness but the shadowsinger yielded to his High Lord’s command. As he entered the office, the faint traces of Feyre and Nyx’s scent lingered in the air, but neither was there now. 
“Did something happen?” Azriel asked, senses on high alert.
Rhysand leaned against the front of his desk, his gaze locking onto Azriel. "I didn’t think I’d have to ask this twice, but... are you out of your mind?"
Azriel’s shadows swirled around him, speaking in tongues. He let out a sound, a mix of disbelief, defensiveness, and the all-too-familiar hint of rage that had been waiting just beneath the surface. Not again.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered.
Rhysand’s humorless chuckle cut through the air. “Oh, trust me, I wish I was.”
Azriel’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. 
“I can’t believe you would be so careless as to sneak her out of here when…”
“Her father has no clue,” Azriel shot back, trying to defend the choice, though even he knew it wasn’t enough.
“I bet your scent still lingers on her,” Rhysand snapped. “Do you know how dangerous that could be? For an unwed lady of her status to be caught alone with another male, to smell like another male? It could ruin her. I don’t know what you’re intentions are with her but Y/n is in love with you—”
“I know.” Azriel cut in sharply.
Rhysand’s expression darkened further, his voice hardening into ice. “So you do know. What’s your game here, Az? Because all I can think and worry about is how it will end for her.”
Before Azriel could respond, Rhysand’s voice rang out again, cutting through the growing tension like a blade.
“You will stay away from her.”
The words hit Azriel like a slap, his body going rigid as the words seemed to echo in his mind.  Because this was not his brother talking to him. It was his High Lord. His shadows were seething, reflecting the storm brewing inside. How had it come to this…again? The same damn warning, as though Azriel couldn’t be trusted to make his own decisions. 
First, it was Mor. Then, it was Elain. And now you.
Unbelievable. His lips twisted into a humorless, bitter smile then. “Should I just ask you for a roster of females I’m allowed to be with? It would save us both a lot of time and trouble.”
“I said it before and I’ll say it again.” Rhysand breathed in sharply, barely able to restrain his vexation. “And I pray to the Mother I won’t have to say it for a third time...”
Azriel’s shadows froze mid-whisper. The room grew quiet and unnervingly still. His wings twitched, as if they too, braced themselves. Because he already knew what was coming. 
But knowing didn’t make it any easier.
“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall. Heck, I’ll offer to pay for it this time.”
And the words stung just as sharply as they had the first time.
“Just stay away from y/n.”
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[series masterlist]
A/n: I had fun writing this <3 and I hope you can understand a bit more of why reader is madly in love with Az. I mean, who isn't? lol But does he like her back or simply like the idea of someone being in love with him for a change…😈
series tag list: @kaitttttttt , @nebarious , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @justyouraveragekleemain , @tothestarsandwhateverend ,
@ratgirl2020 , @myromanempiree , @vanserrasimp , @itsswritten, @acourtofbatboydreams
@imjustagirl713, @paleidiot, @scarsandallaz, @marina468
@utterlyhopeful-fics, @bia-wayne-west
if you asked to be put on the tag-list and don't see your username, please remind me!
General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho
@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe
@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette
@alwayshave-faith
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catsukkii · 2 days ago
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hi!!! im new on here and ive been binge reading all of ur stuff 😭 im not sure if this is where you send reqs but if it is in begging for an older brother’s best friend trope w katsuki 🙏 i absolutely adore this trope and i js imagine katsuki pretending to be so annoying w picking you up or ‘babysitting you’ for his friend bur he secretly rlly likes it. thank u sm! <3
OMG HELLLOOO!! THANK YOU FOR BINGE READING MY STUFF!! this is where u send requests and I’m totally inlove with this idea you just opened my eyes. 2 POSTS IN 1 DAYYY?? I’m spoiling all 50 of my followers 🙏
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Off-limits, Right? — katsuki bakugo
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IN WHICH…katsuki was your older brothers bestfriend, you hated him, he hated you, I mean why else would he constantly tease you? so yeah, you guys hated eachother. right…?
Pairing; Katsuki bakugo x Afab!reader
Content contains; fem!reader, SUGGESTIVE! mdni, swearing, corny scenarios, katsuki uses ‘princess’ in a mocking way, reader is 19, katsuki is 21, and brother is 22, swearing.
Word count; smth over 1k
A/N; this was a wonderful request I’m sorry I couldn’t do it justice !! 😩 I hope ur happy with the result nonetheless!! <3
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he was insufferable, he just couldn’t leave you alone. everytime he comes over to hang out with your brother, you avoid him and stay in your room at pretty much all costs; yet he always finds a way to still get under your nerves.
the stupid calls behind the door as they make their way to your brothers room,
“aww princess, you don’t miss me?” he yells behind the door, you can hear the cocky bastards smirk. you groan and just ignore him as he laughs with your brother. stupid boys.
it doesn’t stop there though, if you ever decide to come out of your room you better prayyyy hes not down there because he’s teasing you to absolutely no end.
“oh the beast has awoken I see?” he smirks and rests his elbows on the kitchen island, eyeing you up and down like you were a piece of meat. you roll your eyes and continue to open your fridge and get a drink.
“would you just shut up for once katsuki?” you bite back and he lets out an airy mocking laugh, putting his hands up in fake defense.
“easy there, just playin around sleeping beauty.” that stupid smirk never leaving his lips, you groan and grab your drink before descending up the stairs back to your room.
and you see, it would be a lot easier to avoid katsuki if him and your brother weren’t constantly in eachothers back pocket. It was frustrating, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone!
and then the worst possible thing happened.
“yoo, y/n.” your brothers voice speaks, tapping you on the shoulder, you tilt your head to look over your shoulder and hum a response. “okay don’t kill me but..memomanddadaregoingtoabarandkatsukihastobabysityou.” you stare at him blankly.
“okay what the actual fuck did you just say to me.” he takes in a deep breath and repeats himself slower. “me mom and dad are going to a bar and katsuki has to babysit you.” he has an anxious scrunch plastered on his face, prepared for you to blow up.
“what the HELL?” you slam the book you were reading closed, the sound echoed through the house. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter! I’m 19!” he sighs and attempts to calm you down.
“I know, i know, I agree! I tried to tell mom and dad that but I guess they just didn’t trust you…” you scoff at this and slouch in your seat with another loud groan rumbling past your lips.
“so they decide to have fucking katsuki babysit me? you know how much I hate him.” you glare up at him and he sighs for you.
“yeah I know..look it’s only for one night! I’m sure you’ll survive right?” you scoff at him and slam yourself up from the couch and reach your room, spending the rest of your time there before katsuki shows up.
‘ding dong’ you hear the doorbell and immediately plant your face in your pillow, mentally preparing for the night you’re about to have. you can hear him buttering up your parents, talking about how their ‘precious daughter’ is in wonderful hands. what a fucking joke. the minute everybody left, he sighs before yelling up the stairs.
“you gonna sit up in your room the whole time?” you can hear the cockiness dripping in his tone even through a whole staircase and your door. you sigh, bouncing off your bed and opening your door walking down the stairs with the least pleasant expression on your face.
“ah there’s the princess, wipe that look off your face. I’m not any happier about this.” you scoff and continue your walking down the stairs, reaching him at the bottom and glaring into his eyes. “yeah right.” you remark sarcastically and push past his shoulder and walk back to your spot on the couch. he sighs to himself and grouchily walks over to sit next to you, creating a respective distance.
“the tv remotes right here,” you toss it at him and he catches with no problems, gosh fucking loser has to be good at everything. “put whatever you want on, I don’t care.” you dismiss him and open your book again, deciding that’s the best way to drown him out.
“oh so the princess isn’t always cold hearted?” he bit his lip partially with a slight smirk, you couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze back onto your book and stutter out a ‘yeah whatever..’ he put on some creepy ass movie, you weren’t even watching it but the noises and jumpscares were kind of getting to you, you put the book down for one second and then got invested into the movie, katsuki took notice of this but decided to not say anything to scare you off just yet.
a certain jumpscare got to you, and you flinched with a high pitched ‘eek!’ he only laughed at you and looked at you with a faux mocking pout.
“aww princess you scared?” his pout turned into a smirk, and he licked his lips slightly. “s-shut up katsuki.” you roll your eyes and attempt to play it off before he just has to open his mouth again.
“cmon you want me to hold you so the monsters won’t get you?” he opens his arms and laughs when you immediately protest. “ew, katsuki! quit!” he nonetheless throws your ‘stupid’ book across the room and before you even have time to think he’s grabbing you by the shoulders and planting you on his lap.
“katsuki— eugh— let me go!” you whine trying to wiggle out of his grasp, he sighs before speaking, “keep movin like that on me and you’re definitely not going.” you gasp at his comment and hit him on the arm.
“gross katsuki!” he just laughs and you eventually accept your fate on his lap, trying to avoid the fact you’re on your older brothers bestfriends lap. You continue on with the movie, eventually relaxing into katsukis hold when another jumpscare causes you to jump in his hold, he mocks you with a laugh and suddenly his mouth is very close to your ear, you can feel his hot breath trickling down your neck and it causes you to stiffen. “you scared, princess?” he whispers deeply into your ear, you try to shake off the flustered feeling and shake your head no.
“are you sure? maybe this will help take your mind off things.” and before you can even think to protest, your being spinned around on his lap, face to face with him. your legs were straddling either side of his now and he rests his hand on your lower back, pushing you closer to him.
“katsuki— mm!” you were cut off to him pressing a kiss to your lips, even though your mind was telling you ‘no, no, back away!’ your body seemed to have a different idea, leaning into his touch and kissing right back causing his signature smirk to envelop his face, smiling into the kiss.
it turned into a heated makeout session, your hands resting on his neck, one of his hands rubbing down your back and the other behind your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. the only thing that could be heard was the movie you had both long forgotten about and the smacks of your lips colliding.
“you don’t know—“ he breathes out before planting another kiss to you, “—how long I’ve wanted this.” you continue your assault to his lips and only pull away for a short response back. “yeah?” he hums an agreement into the kiss, at this point you’re practically grinding on eachother, your brows furrowing and mouth parting slightly, and suddenly it all hits you.
you pull away abruptly, his lips chasing yours before a look of confusion wipes over his face. “we shouldn’t be doing this.” you speak and nervously tuck your hair behind your ears. “well it’s a little late for that princess…” you groan and bury your head in your hands, what were you thinking?
“I mean we don’t really have to stop now—“ you shush him quickly, he rolls his eyes but listens nonetheless, as if on que you can here the doorknob jiggle, you spring off his lap and back onto your designated place on the couch, katsuki grabs a pillow to cover his crotch which you gave him a disgusted look for, as if you werent practically leaking through your panties right now.
they walk through the door, everybody greeting their hellos before your mother speaks up at the sight, “aw look at you two! finally getting along I see?” you grumble at her words but katsuki speaks up with a sly grin, “you could say that.” she gushes over this fact, katsuki was always her favorite friend of your brothers. only you and him knew the true meaning behind his words, eventually everybody gets ready to part their goodbyes, and you’re about to ascend up the stairs again before katsuki calls your name.
you spin around to face him, and stride over he unexpectedly hugs you, which your mother ‘awe’s’ at, little did she know he just whispered ‘call me.’ in your ear, leaving you a flustered mess, you say your quick goodbye and rush up to your room.
what we’re you gonna do.
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a/n; if this does well I’ll do part 2 but prolly not
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uyuforu · 3 days ago
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Union Asteroid in Natal Chart
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Union asteroid (1585) is an asteroid discovered in 1947 by Ernest Leonard Johnson. This asteroid is considered a love asteroid, and it's often seen as an asteroid linked to our first meeting with your Future Spouse. In order to exactly know what it was about, I did some researches. I found out indeed it's about how we meet our Future Spouse, but also how we get together with them. Literally, how we are going to go in Union with them. Don't forget this post is based on observations. So take those informations lightly.
All pictures were found on Pinterest
Other posts you could like:
જ⁀➴ Union Persona Chart Observations I
જ⁀➴ Juno, Groom, Briede in Signs, Houses, Degrees
જ⁀➴ Groom/ Briede/ Juno aspects in Natal Chart
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READINGS BOOKING OPEN
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This post was based on real observations on people who are already married.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Aries Union can mean a fast meeting, a meeting that can happen suddenly, unexpected, it can also indicate a meeting that is like very physical. It can be love at first sight, something fast. You can have a very quick meeting, getting in a relationship very fast with this person. You can also have a very explosive meeting, it can involve fights, or arguments.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Taurus Union means it's very soft and and romantic meeting. You can have a flirt or meet your FS when you are in a romantic mood. It could be a very nice and chill meeting, in a social gathering perhaps too. You could just meet and have a very good feeling about this person. Like liking each other right away. You can be interested in your FS, finding them cute. It usually means dating right away, you are not friends, usually. Though, this can indicate slowly getting into a relationships with the person.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Gemini Union can mean you can meet in a social setting. It can be in real life or online, but you could also fall for your FS while speaking to them. You can find them funny, love their voice, find them smart, etc. It can indicate being together with them fast.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Cancer Union can mean you can meet your FS in the same place as you are, or you can meet them because of your family. They can seem similar to you, or just you can meet them and feel like you are very much alike. You can meet them in a familiar place. This can also mean getting very much close to your FS before being with them. You can start as friends. It can mean a childhood friend as well.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Leo Union means you can meet your FS and have very strong and passionate feelings for them when you meet. You can also feel so drawn to them you can chase them. You can feel such passion and excitement when you meet them, they can be your sunlight, you could not get enough of them. This can usually mean you'll chase after them, you'll not want to let them go. Whatever you do, you'll be the one wanting to be with them. And you'll have this strong burning desire to be with them.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Virgo Union can mean you can meet at work, but this can mean your FS and you will start dating after getting to know each other well. Having Virgo Union could mean you will let your FS chase you. I have noticed everyone who had it were pretty cold and not obvious they liked their FS when they met them. It can also mean having a slow Union with your FS.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Libra Union can mean you and your FS can flirt a lot when you meet. You can meet at a romantic gathering, blind dates, or for examples it can be a fun party, a gathering to meet people. You could have a thing, a crush for this person, or this can be the same for them. But you could def have a fling with them first.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Scorpio Union can mean you can meet your FS at night, or somewhere dark. Somewhere private too. You can meet them and have a big crush on them, or see them from afar first. There is something about you being shy when you meet them, you can either first observe them before meeting them. You can stalk or just already notice them before you speak to each other. This can also involve secret crush too.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Sagittarius Union can mean meeting in college, while traveling, while learning something or in foreign lands. You can meet them in a different place than where you live, even if it's in the same country as you. But it can def be a meeting that will make you learn something. Also, this means you will discover a lot about you or in general when meeting your FS. It can also mean meeting your FS after moving. This meeting can indicate a slow way to be in a relationship with FS since you may prefer to know each other well before being together.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Capricorn Union can often mean you can meet your FS at work, but usually this means during your meeting, your FS will have a higher status there than you. People who had it often met their spouse at work and they were their boss. It can so indicate office romance. Spouse can be your boss or someone higher in your work status, so you can work for them.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Aquarius Union seems to be very atypical kind of meeting. People who had this placement always met their FS in the weirdest way possible. If they didn't want to seem insane or that the meeting seemed weird, they can lie about the meeting. But it also means your relationship started in a very unusual way. You can also meet in a very unexpected way, perhaps it will be a day you won't expect to meet your FS. You can also meet them and be really amazed by your FS, thinking they are so different. Your Union can be something unexpected from people as well.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Pisces Union can mean your meeting with your FS can be linked to art, creativity. You can meet them also in secret, or your first meeting will feel very intimate, like only both of you notice something is going on. Romance will be present from the first time you meet. Sometimes the union between you two can take longer, but you'll sense since the first day you met that something was going on. It can also mean a meeting related to spirituality and religion too perhaps.
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₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 1H Union can mean you can have a very fast meeting your FS. You can have love at first sight or a very big crush on them when you first meet them. You can also first seem them before meeting them. This placement can suggest you can find them very attractive when you will meet them. You can enter fast in a relationship, and it can also mean being married very young or fast.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 2H Union can mean you'll feel very consistent and sure about your FS when you will meet them. You can also spend a lot of money to see them, to get them, or to even just buy them things. You can be quite flirty and romantic with them, it can be a way to pursue them or chase them. It can be a sign of taking your time to know this person before being them. Moreover, you could want to show them through many ways you are interested in them. It can be very sweet. But anything related to money and possessions can be showing more. You can also feel jealous and possessive over them quite fast. You can also meet related to money, or a contract, a deal.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 3H Union can mean you'll meet your FS with a social circle, in your neighborhood, because of your siblings, friends, or because of a certain community. You can meet online, there can be something related to TV or something related to technologies. Moreover this can mean meeting at school to or library. You can talk a lot when meeting, you can also exchange a lot of ideas as well. You can meet around other people, yet only wanting to talk to your FS. Their voice can charm you as well. You can be the one declaring your love first.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 4H Union can mean meeting your FS around your house, neighborhood, your family too. You can meet your FS because of a house, and it can also mean because of you moving. You can also meet them because they know your family. You can meet them in a very familiar place, perhaps even where you grew up, or where your family grew up. Moreover, you can be childhood friend with this person. It can also indicate meeting when you are young. You can also be together quite fast, or even marry very young.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 5H Union means you'll meet your FS in a holiday setting, meaning anything related to relaxing, getting away from stressful life. You could also meet them and flirt directly with them. You'll feel very interested the first time you will meet. You could flirt with your FS directly on your first meeting. Your Union could feel very teenage love. Children can also be part of your meeting.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 6H Union can mean meeting at work, meeting through work, it can also be an union that takes time, just because both of you want to take your time, or just because things are slow. You can meet related to health too. You can feel like it's a stable meeting, and feel like you feel good and stable with your FS. It can also mean meeting your FS at school. You can be in a very long relationship before marrying.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 7H Union could mean you could be interested in your FS as a lover first. You could have a crush on them, or have the sensation you could date them. It can also mean you will do everything to get them as well. You can also partner with them at work if you have other placements that suggests that.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 8H Union can mean a secret Union, you can be together in secret. It can mean a meeting where you are just the two of you, intimate. You can have a very strong s3xual attraction towards each other, or even you can feel a spark too. You can feel so attracted to your fs they can intimidate you. It can mean also mean feeling like there are just you and your FS when you meet. There can be something taboo as well in the meeting.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 9H Union can mean meeting in college, higher studies, church, or a meeting linked to religion or spirituality. You can meet them and think they are nice, cool, friendly. You can be curious about them, but this placement can indicate it will take time to be together, since there could be a true link to trust each other and getting to know each other slowly.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 10H Union means you'll meet them at work, while working, or during a project of yours at work. You could indeed work with your FS, or you could start dating when you are working together. You could also start dating when you are doing a very important project at work. Work can be involved in this relationship.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 11H Union means you and your FS can be friends at first. You could develop a friendship before being in a relationship with them. You could also meet them through friends, but it can be meeting online, on the internet. You can start a relationship online first. This can indicate a slow moving relationship, a friendship will be required first before being in union with them.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 12H Union can mean you and your FS can get together pretty fast. It can be the feelings being so strong and the romance being so present you may not see you the reality of your connection, and so things can get fast. It can usually also means the native having a false idea of their FS while meeting them. Usually, the native will know immediately their FS is someone special when they will meet them. You can also meet in foreign lands, or also it can mean meeting because of spirituality or religion matters.
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⑅ RANDOM OBSERVATIONS ON UNION ASTEROID ⑅
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Lucille Ball had Union Sagittarius 12H, and she met her first husband later in her life (she was 29 in 1940, not that it's old but at that time it was considered old to get married at 29). They also got married in secret and pretty fast.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Ariana Grande has Union Gemini 5H, she met her first husband while wanting to buy a vacation house. She also was very interested in him very fast, and had a big crush instantly.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Desi Arnaz had Union Aquarius, he met Lucille Ball in at a time he didn't expect.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Uranus conjunct Union can mean a very unexpected meeting, sudden meeting, you really could not expect meeting your FS at that time or at that moment.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Venus conjunct Union can mean you'll have a crush on your FS when meeting them. You can find them very good looking, they can look like your ideal type too. It can indicate love at first sight.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Venus conjunct Union in 11H can mean you can have a flirt with your FS online first. Or they can be a friend of yours and you can have a crush on them.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union conjunct Pluto means you'll feel transformed after meeting your FS, they will leave you a very big impression.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Sun opposite Union can mean you'll not realize first you met your FS, or that this person is your FS. You can take a long time before realizing they are the one for you.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Mars in good aspect with Union can indicate a lot of flirt and sexual tensions between you two. You re physically attracted to your FS.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Saturn in good aspect with Union can mean you'll take your time to be together, and it's actually a good thing, it can be wanting to know each other well, but time will be in your favor in this one.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union conjunct Mars can be being together fast after meeting. It can also mean you'll want them right when you meet them, you'll be sure of your choice.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union opposite/ square Mars can mean not feeling a spark right away between you two, you can also have no real desires to be with the person when you meet them. There can be some obstacles when you meet, and you feel like it's not the right time to be together.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union square Pluto can mean the meeting will trigger you to change, and you'll go in a very deep transformation about yourself.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union opposite Uranus can mean a very strange and unique meeting. You'll think a lot of people will not believe in the original story on how you met or got together.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ A couple can haver two different Union, it doesn't mean anything in particular. This is more about how you view the meeting and how you view the way you got together.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union 10H often appeared with people who met their FS around their 30's. Or around the time they were reaching a more serious stage in their adulthood.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ I know three men who have Union Leo 10H, they all chased their FS, they were also very much into wanting to be the provider, even if they weren't before. They all put their wife on a pedestal.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union aspecting Moon can mean meeting young.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union square Venus can mean you'll realize you are not truly in love with them with time, or you do not have much romantic feelings at first for them. You are not the one who is the most interested.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ Union sextile Rising can mean you find them physically very appealing.
© uyuforu
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silcoitus · 2 days ago
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Could you write a (young)Silco/Disabled Reader, who for the most part is able to walk just fine with the help of a brace but on bad days they’ll bring out the cane and on really bad days a wheelchair but is still insistent on trying to do things no matter how much they shouldn’t?
I tried to be as sensitive as I could towards reader's disability. I hope it comes across sincere and that I haven't committed any faux pas. If I have, please let me know in the comments and I will happily revise. Like young Silco in this fic, I will quickly apologize and learn if given the opportunity.
A Voice Like Yours
Masterlist | AO3 link
Rating: Mature
Tags: gn!reader x silco; disabled reader; Silco; Felicia; Connol; Vander; Benzo; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort;
Word count: 3.5k
Beta reader: @juniper-sunny
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You would've liked to get to the market sooner, but getting out of bed was particularly hard today. Typically, you're able to handle just fine with only your brace. And when that doesn't work, your cane will usually suffice. But with rough sleep last night and a flare-up this morning, you opt for using your chair today to get to the market. Just until you can get your bearings again.
With your later arrival, you're unable to beat the morning rush, sandwiched between what seems like every citizen of the Undercity. Most give you a wide berth, but others shove past you unceremoniously. You're used to it by now, but your fatigue plasters a permanent scowl on your face as you try to find your usual vendors.
As you make your way through your shopping list, the bag sitting on your lap getting slightly heavier with each new stall you visit, you feel a bit better. (You used to keep your bag slung over the back of your chair, but stopped when some asshole stole it.)
You're on the last item on your list when you get settled in front of one wooden stall and make small talk with the shopkeep. He greets you by name and grabs your usual order, setting it down on the counter before turning his back to fix something. You try to reach for your purchase, but it's just a touch too far. You're about to move your chair closer when a stranger waltzes up and plucks the bag off the counter.
“Hey! That's mine!” you protest, rolling closer to him.
“I know,” he replies, handing it to you. “I was just getting it for you.”
You snatch it and shove it into your canvas bag, still frowning at the tall, slender man with long raven hair. 
“I'm perfectly capable of doing it on my own.” You grab your wheels and in one fluid, practiced motion, reposition your chair away from him. You start to leave, but pause, looking over your shoulder. “I don't need your help.”
Out of your periphery, you see him raise both hands in surrender, but from this angle, you can't tell if his expression is sincere or sarcastic. You try to shake it off, ready to go back home and wash your hands of the interaction. 
The Undercity is supposed to be the city of self-reliance.
So why does everyone still treat you like a child?
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The following day fares better. You bring your cane (just in case) for your shift at the shop, settling into your stool at the cash register. You're reading a book during the slower hours when a customer comes in and sets a stack of papers down onto the counter. Your eyebrows furrow at the flyers and you lift your eyes to see a familiar face.
“If it's alright, I'd like to add these to your bulletin board,” the man from yesterday says, not even looking at you. He leans on the counter, looking out the large windows to the street. “Got a meeting coming up and want to get the word out.”
Finally, he turns to you.
You watch as his face cycles from apathy to confusion to recognition. His eyes dart down to your stool and the surrounding area, seemingly looking for your wheelchair. When he comes up empty, he looks back up to your face, head tilting to the side.
“I didn't need it today,” you preemptively answer. “Not that I owe you an explanation.”
“Right, right, sorry,” he's quick to apologize. “I didn't mean to insinuate—”
“That I'm faking?”
“No! Never!” he says, hands coming up in surrender, again. His shoulders sag forward slightly and he runs his fingers through his hair, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips. “I'm sorry, can we start again?”
He puts his hand out. You eye it warily.
“Hi, I'm Silco.”
Your lips thin, but you take his hand.
“Hi, Silco.” You give him your name.
“I would like to put these up on your bulletin board,” he says, nodding to the corkboard behind you.
You put your hand out.
“Only two,” you instruct. “One here and the one in the back.”
He starts to hand you the flyers, but then pulls back.
“I can put up the one out back,” he offers.
“It's fine,” you say, insisting with a gesture of your hand. “I can do it.”
Silco looks at your hand then up to your face, understanding slowly spreading across his features. He nods, mostly to himself, as he hands you the papers.
“Of course.”
You take one flyer and a thumbtack from the corner of the board, stabbing it in place with a bit more force than necessary.
“You should come,” Silco says from behind you. “We could use a voice like yours in the Children.”
You turn back to him, eyebrows furrowed.
“Just think about it,” he says softly, gathering the pile of papers. With a small, almost apologetic, smile, he leaves.
You lift the remaining flyer, scanning it.
Children of Zaun 
Town Hall
Wednesday 
4pm
The Last Drop 
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“Hey, Monte?” you call out. “If it's okay, I think I'm gonna head out a little early.”
Your boss peeks his head out from one of the aisles, his glasses slightly crooked on his nose.
“That's fine,” he reassures you, calling your name. “We're pretty slow today; I can take it from here.”
You take your cane from behind the counter, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.
“Thanks! I'll see you tomorrow!”
You make your way to The Last Drop, having spent a couple days wrestling internally about whether or not to go. You had heard of the Children of Zaun, but not really given them much thought. From what you'd heard, they were a ragtag group of misfits posing as rebels, claiming to want independence from Piltover. You had rolled your eyes in disbelief at the notion. Besides, you have plenty of your own concerns to worry about; it's not as if you have time to take up some righteous cause.
But Silco's words ring in your ear, propelling you forward.
“We could use a voice like yours in the Children.”
What did he mean by that? “Like yours”—what’s that supposed to mean? So they want some sort of token disabled person on their crew to make them look better or something?
But the sincere remorse on his face and the softness of his tone told you otherwise. 
Maybe he meant it.
Maybe he does actually want to hear what you might have to say.
So you walk up to The Last Drop, hand clutching your cane, holding it less like a walking stick and more like a blunt force weapon (which it has had to be, on occasion). Taking a deep breath, you pull your shoulders back, and push open the door.
You're by no means early, but there's no way this is the entire gang. You can count on exactly one hand the number of people that showed up. There's Silco, standing with his back to you, what looks to be a couple sharing a table, and then two larger men standing by the bar. You're immediately filled with regret and start to turn back around, until you hear someone call your name.
“You came!” Silco says, more excitement in his voice than you'd expect. “Hey, this is who I told you about.”
Four pairs of eyes turn to you and you feel rooted on the spot.
You shoot Silco a look.
He told them about you? What could he possibly have said?
He gestures you forward, leading you to the couple at the table. You take one of the empty seats and Silco sits in the one next to you. He leans forward, one forearm barred along the wooden surface as he addresses the couple.
“I told you we were missing something,” he starts. “That this—” he gestures to the group, forefinger pointed and moving in a circle, “wasn't enough.”
That same forefinger comes down, tapping incessantly on the table.
“If we're to be the voice of Zaun, we need to make sure that everyone has a spot at the table.”
The woman glances at you before turning back to Silco, nodding slightly as she speaks.
“Okay…” she nods a little more, as if the thought is taking root in her head. “Yeah. That makes sense.” She turns toward you. “My name is Felicia and this is Connol,” she says, leaning her head toward the man next to her. 
“Felicia. Connol. Nice to meet you.”
You shake hands with both of them.
“Would you like a drink?”
You pull your lips through your teeth and Felicia is quick to reassure you.
“Don't worry; it's on the house.” She straightens up, calling out to the large man behind the bar. “Vander! Some beer!”
“Get it yourself!” he calls back.
“Fuck you,” she laughs.
“Oy,” the other man says, bringing a tray over. “Watch yer language ‘round the new recruit.”
Felicia laughs.
“They’re an adult, Benzo; they can handle it.”
You look back at her and she offers you a smirk. You take the free mug of beer and Silco raises his up in toast.
“To the Children of Zaun.”
Felicia and Connol mirror the movement.
“The Children of Zaun!”
You lift your glass and say the words, though you don't take them to heart just yet. But as you bring the mug to your lips, you can't help the small smile from creeping onto your face.
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Every Wednesday, you leave the shop to go to the bar. And every Wednesday, you become a little more smitten.
With the cause.
With the man that introduced you to it.
The more you get to know Silco, the more you realize your first impression of him wasn't a good representation of the man he is. 
Or, perhaps, maybe it was the perfect representation.
A man who only wants to help, eager to uplift those around him. So excited to do so that he steps on a few toes in the process. He's stumbling and clumsy with his help, but he's quick to apologize and quick to learn. 
It doesn't take long for you to realize—he’s that way with everyone. It wasn't just you and it wasn't just because you're disabled. He's always on alert for if someone could use a hand, always first to arrive when someone asks for assistance. That's just who he is.
And if this is one of the rebels trying to uplift the Undercity, the Nation of Zaun is in good hands.
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Silco is keeping you company at the shop, following you around as you restock some items. He carries a crate of goods while you arrange them on displays, your discerning eye careful to make them look as appealing as possible.
You drop one of the small boxes and Silco is quick to bend down to grab it.
“Silco,” you warn, “What'd I say about helping without being asked?”
“Sorry, right,” he says, straightening up to let you retrieve it. “Force of habit.”
You grin up at him, chuckling. “I'm just fucking with you.”
With some assistance from him, you get out of your wheelchair and resume your place at the cash register. Silco takes the opportunity to sit in your chair, long fingers fiddling with the wheels. You laugh as he tries to maneuver the chair around the front of the shop.
“Have you learned any tricks on this thing?” he asks, trying to lean back and balance it so that his feet lift off the ground.
“It's a wheelchair, not a skateboard, you jackass.”
“That's a ‘no’ then,” he says, smirking. But the smirk is wiped clean off his face when the chair tumbles backwards, sending him crashing to the floor.
You let out a bark of a laugh at that, laughing even harder when he starts to groan.
“Serves you right!” You grab your cane, gingerly getting off the stool to help him back up. “If you broke my chair, I swear to Janna… Do you know how hard these are to get? I had to pay so much coin for it.” 
You point your cane at him threateningly, but he wraps his fingers around it and tugs, pulling you forward. A startled squeak at your throat, you fall on top of him, catching yourself just in time so you don't headbutt him.
“Silco—”
“Now we're both down here,” he teases, smirking.
“Wonderful,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “What a masterful plan.”
Something sparks behind Silco's ocean green eyes, something playful, mischievous.
“I'll say it is.”
And with that, he lifts his head, closing the distance between your lips. Your eyebrows lift and your eyes flutter closed, savoring the warmth of his mouth against yours. His hand comes up to tenderly cradle your face and you lean into the kiss, pressing your chest to his so you're flush with him. You don't know how much time has passed, but as you kiss him, you feel as light as a cloud, until—
“Hey!”
You straighten up, face red with blush.
“I don't pay you to swap spit with the customers,” Monte says, but there's no bite to his words. “Get up before someone trips on you.”
You laugh, pressing your forehead to Silco's. 
“Here.” You push yourself up, offering him a hand. “Let me help you.”
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It’s been a while since you’ve had a friend group like this. Ever since the accident that caused your disability, no one seems to have the patience to deal with your rougher days, as if you’re holding them back.
It’s hard to not internalize that feeling.
But with Silco and the rest of the Children of Zaun, you feel different. Whereas before, it felt like your mere presence was a burden, you feel seen and appreciated. You feel heard.
When you tell Vander that the bathroom stalls are too tiny for your chair, he knocks the dividers down to make room.
When you lament about the small step outside the front door, Benzo throws together a small wooden ramp. 
More and more, The Last Drop feels like home, though going to the basement or the upstairs office still eludes you. It’s not that you can’t. It’s more that you’re worried that you’ll have to ask for help to get you back on the ground floor should you get stuck in either place. But, there’s never really been any reason for you to visit either floor, so you’re content to stay in the main bar area, occasionally ducking into the back room when the crowd gets a little too loud.
It’s on one such trip to the storage room that Silco finds you, huddled on the floor, your cane propped up next to you. Your knees are pulled up to your chest and your palms pressed flat against your ears, trying in vain to drown out the sounds of the bar. You had made the mistake of visiting during peak hours and didn’t have the energy to go all the way back home. You thought you could power through it until the customers dwindled, but it became too much. So, you retreated to the back room, holding back tears.
“We have one more!” Silco calls over his shoulder as he opens the door, talking to Vander who tends the bar. “After this, we’ll need to get more.”
He turns over his shoulder to see you on the floor. Immediately, his voice lowers and he crouches down to get eye level, your name a reassuring coo on his throat.
“Hey… are you okay?”
You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut.
“Okay, just… give me a second.”
You hear him pick up a crate of bottles. The door swings open, letting in the raucous noise from outside. You let out a whimper as the door swings closed. After a few tense minutes, the door opens again and you hear footsteps approaching you.
“Hey, I’m back,” Silco coos. There’s shuffling as he moves to sit next to you. “What do you need?”
It’s a sentence you practically trained him to ask. With his tendency to charge forward offering the help he thinks you need, you managed to finally get him to learn to ask you first. 
It’s a small gesture, but at this moment, it’s everything.
“I need…” Your breath is shaky, your eyes holding back tears. “I need quiet. And— And it’s too far to walk home.”
Silco shifts, moving to crouch in front of you, hands on either of your shoulders. He squeezes them and you look up to see a tender expression on his face. Not pity or condescension. Concern. Sincere, genuine concern.
“It’s much quieter upstairs in the office,” he offers. “Do you think you can make it?”
Your lips tighten. It’s hard to think with so much noise; you can barely hear your own thoughts. It doesn’t help that you can feel a flare up coming on, pain shooting through your legs.
“I… I don’t know.”
You watch Silco chew on the inside of his mouth, thinking. 
“I could… carry you.”
You shoot a look at him, equal parts indignation and humiliation.
“I know, I know. It’s not ideal.” He looks around the storage room as if he’ll find an alternative answer. “But the sooner we get you out of here, the sooner you can feel better.”
You bite down on your bottom lip, wrestling internally. The sting behind your eyes is threatening to push past your defenses. Finally, wordlessly, you nod.
“Okay,” he says, tone firm. 
His ocean green eyes dart around your body, trying to figure out how best to pick you up that keeps your dignity intact. But before he can reach a decision, you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him to yourself, holding him in a tight embrace.
“Oh! Hey…” He melts into the hug, bringing both arms around your back, squeezing you gently. “It’s okay.” He rubs your back with one hand, palm warm against your shirt. “It’s okay. We all need help sometimes.”
“I did too much today,” you say into the crook of his neck, tears escaping your eyes. “I should’ve stayed home.”
“Shhhh…” he shushes, shifting his arms as he slowly rises to his feet, bringing you along. 
You manage to get to your feet, but your legs feel wobbly and unstable under your weight.
“Here, let me…” Silco bends down and hangs your cane over the crook of his elbow before bringing one arm behind your knees. “On three. One… two… three.”
You lift your legs up and he scoops you up in his arms, straightening to a stand. Instinctively, you wrap both your arms around his neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.
“I got you,” he coos. “I’ve got you.” He takes one final look around the room before pushing the door open with his back. “We’ll go behind the bar; no one will even know.”
You nod, tears flowing in earnest now to stain Silco’s shirt.
You press one ear to the crook of his neck, trying to dampen the loud voices of the bar patrons. At that, Silco walks a little faster, making his way up the staircase. In his haste, he drops your cane on the landing.
“Shit! Sorry, I’ll go back for it,” he says, continuing forward.
After opening the door and carefully depositing you onto the plush red cushions of the couch, he darts out the door, returning with your cane in hand. He sets it on the coffee table in front of you before sitting next to you.
“There.” He rubs your hip as you lay on your side. “Is that better?”
You nod, reorienting yourself to rest your head on his lap. Silco settles on the couch, bringing one hand to your head, smoothing down your hair in soft reassuring strokes. His other hand grazes your cheek, wiping away your tears.
It’s finally quiet.
Your legs still ache, but it’s not as bad as it was before. You can feel the rise and fall of Silco’s chest against your back, his breathing a calming rhythm.
“Thank you, Silco,” you whisper.
“Of course,” he whispers back.
After a moment, he shifts, bending down to bring his lips to your temple. You smile at the touch, feeling warmth settle behind your ribs.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t,” he cuts you off. “I’ve never heard you apologize before and I don’t want to hear it now.”
The firmness in his voice has you turning your face to look up at him. There’s a resoluteness in his expression, a confidence you typically see reserved for Children of Zaun meetings. He looks off into the distance, as if seeing something that’s not there. A vision. A promise.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he continues. His chin dips and his ocean green eyes find yours. His eyebrows lift and his lips curl into a soft smile, full of pride and affection. “You’re perfect.”
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kvroomi · 2 days ago
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it's 9 o'clock in the evening when atsumu barges into your bathroom while you're taking off your makeup
“hey, babe, yer phone’s charged, right?”
his voice breaks through the quiet hum of your evening, pulling your attention away from the bottle of moisturiser you'd been trying to open for the past 5 minutes. you glance up to find him leaning in the doorway. his black dress pants and light blue button-up are long gone, now replaced with a large white t-shirt and his obnoxious 'world's best setter' boxers that he must've left in the dresser you bought for him when he started staying over more often.
“yeah, why?” you ask, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.
he holds up his phone with an exaggerated sigh, the screen dark. “mine’s dead." he sighs and you look at him confused.
"i was gonna call ‘samu—messaged me somethin’ about the shop. think he forgot to order noodles or… or whatever. can i borrow yours for a sec?”
you furrow your eyebrows, skepticism creeping in. atsumu wasn’t exactly known for prioritizing osamu’s last-minute “emergencies” unless they directly concerned him. “can’t you just use the landline?”
“the landline?” he places a hand on his chest in mock offense.
“what am i, a fossil?" you turn your gaze back to the mirror with a roll of your eyes.
"c’mon, babe, it’ll only take a minute. please?”
you stare at him and he stares back, the two of you locking eyes in a silent standoff. atsumu, for all his dramatics, was never great at hiding when he was up to something.
alas, as much as you wanted to pry, you also didn’t have the energy to argue over something so trivial when it was so late into the day.
“okay,” you breathe out, followed by a long sigh as you hand your phone over.
“just don’t mess with anything.” your eyes narrow threateningly.
“mess with things? me?” he shakes his head around, feigning shock. “never. yer phone’s in the safest hands imaginable.”
that already should’ve been your second red flag—though before you can even question him, he's got his back turned halfway out the door yelling “thanks, babe! yer the best!” over his shoulder.
a brief fifteen minutes have passed, which you only vaguely realise in the haze of beginning your book. you're comfortably tucked into the corner of the couch when he strolls into the living room. plopping your phone onto the cushions beside you and pressing a quick, warm kiss to the top of your head—he pokes your cheek.
“yer a lifesaver,” he says with a grin, flopping down beside you. “what would i do without ya?”
you offer him a glance, “what did osamu need?”
“huh?” you notice his grin falter. it's a split millisecond, but he's quick to cover it with a casual wave of his hand. “oh, somethin’ about… rice.”
you squint at him, trying to read his face. “i thought you said noodles earlier?”
“rice, noodles—same difference,” he says, getting up and walking over to the fridge to pull it open. “food stuff... y’know how he is.”
you let out a hum, satisfied with his answer. and just like that, the moment passes. your attention is drawn back to your book while atsumu rifles through leftovers.
it isn't until later that night when you're climbing into bed and reaching for your phone to set your alarm that you notice. the screen lights up, and instead of your usual photo of cherry blossoms, you're greeted by him—a photo of atsumu.
and it's not just any photo of atsumu, though. this one was pure chaos.
his entire face filled the frame, nose slightly scrunched, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, and his golden-brown eyes wide with faux innocence. his lips were puckered in an over-the-top kissy face. across the bottom of the image in bright, white text were the words: “miss me yet, babe? ;)”
your jaw drops.
“what the—?” you're immediately sitting up and unlocking your phone, going straight into your photo gallery. what you find only makes your disbelief grow, (and maybe your heart too, out of fondness).
the first photo was relatively tame: a selfie of atsumu sprawled out on the couch with his head sitting in his hand with a cheeky and flirty smile. of course, you think.
the second was him in the doorway of the living room with his finger pressed to his lips in a "shh" gesture while you sat on the couch, engrossed in your book.
and then things get progressively more ridiculous, (assuming that's even possible).
there's a close-up of atsumu holding up your favorite snack with an inflated, brash grin, almost as if he was offering it to you. the caption reads: “this one's for you, babe."
another captured him perched on your desk chair, holding your pencil like it was a quill. his nose is scrunched again, an attempt to portray his concentration as he pretends to scribble something brilliant.
it's the final photo that stops you in your tracks.
it's atsumu stood on the balcony, wrapped in your favorite blanket like a superhero while his arm stretched dramatically toward the sky. the caption read: “protector of this household and defender of snacks ;)”
you stare at the screen in silence, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. quite frankly, you couldn't tell whether you wanted to laugh or cry.
atsumu was many things: he was ridiculous, he was almost always over the top, and he was also occasionally the most infuriating person you’d ever met. but, there was one thing for certain—he was undeniably, wholeheartedly yours.
many people don't understand him the way you do. atsumu hadn’t just messed with your phone for the sake of it—he’d left you a trail of love notes that were neatly tucked behind each photo’s absurdity. it was his way of saying "i’m here, even when i’m not," without actually saying the words verbally.
and it worked.
you didn’t text him right away. instead, you curled under the blankets, scrolling through the photos again and again. your heart swelled with every outlandish caption, every childish expression, every trace of him.
eventually, you couldn’t help yourself.
you: you’re a menace.
his reply was almost instant: atsumu: a menace with a pretty face, though. miss ya, babe x
you beamed, your thumb hovering over the lock screen settings, conflicted between whether or not you should switch back the photo. though how could you? not when you already knew tomorrow would bring another excuse for him to check your phone again, just to see if you’d kept it.
so you decide to leave it—his face on your lock screen as a proud display of the world’s most unconventional love letter.
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just-another-star-47 · 3 days ago
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This is one of the reasons why I unfollowed every single booktoker (it looks weird written out) a while ago. Which is funny, because a lot of them do this annotate thing.. but.. I'm so confused when they don't discuss things. When it's just "yeah I like that book, everything is so beautiful"
What is beautiful? Why do you think it's beautiful? THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING YOU DON'T THINK IS BEAUTIFUL? Why can't you read a book when you don't like a certain character? Have you ever wondered why Jane Austen writes about finding the right man to be happy and Charlotte Brontë thinks that a marriage can only be happy when the man is stripped of every single advantage he has? WHY DO YOU THINK WUTHERING HEIGHTS AND ROMEO AND JULIET ARE ROMANCE NOVELS?
I get it, that sometimes we just want to consume, but I promise you, that most book (and other media too) can offer you so much more, when you just think about what is writen there and why it's written there. I promise.
i find it so interesting how people act like "critically examining a piece of media" is the opposite of "enjoying that piece of media." rip to you but i actually find it really enjoyable and compelling to dissect and think through the art i engage with
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sturnioz · 12 hours ago
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fratboy!chris finds one of shy!reader’s books — it has some interesting paragraphs. requested by. @issysh3ll
chris isn't nosy—at least, not all the time.
he minds his own business and he whole-heartedly expects you to do the same exact thing for him. but now he's alone in your bedroom, boredom creeping in as he waits for you to finish your shower.
you mentioned something about wanting to freshen up, but he didn't really pay attention — he didn't really care.
but as he waits, his gaze drifts around your room, disinterested, until it lands on a book that peeks out from beneath your fluffy pillow.
he prods his cheek with his tongue as he grabs it, planning to toss it onto the bedside table. but he catches a glimpse at the cover, and his eyes narrow at the sight of a half-naked man pressed against a woman's body.
a little intrigued, he leans back against the pillow, flipping mindlessly through the pages. his expression immediately shifts from boredom to disbelief as he reads the explicit details and phrases, and a laugh of disbelief escapes him, followed by a smirk as he shakes his head and rubs at his jaw — completely engrossed in the content that he fails to notice you've just finished your shower.
"w-what are you doing?!" you blurt out, panic flooding your voice as you stand in the doorway, wrapped in a towel. your skin glistens, and your damp hair clings to you, but you can't focus on that. all you can think about is the book in chris' hands.
"you readin' all this, kid?" chris asks with a teasing tone. "a lil' bedtime erotica for the secret freak?"
"stop!" the word bursts from your lips, panic and embarrassment surging through you. you feel your face heat up, the warmth spreading down your neck as you nearly trip over your own feet rushing toward the bed.
one hand grips the towel tightly, desperately trying to keep it in place, with the other reaches for the book — but chris is too quick, holding it just out of reach, his smirk growing wider.
"d-don't look at that! put it away!" your heart races, and you can feel tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.
"why? s'you can read it later?" he tilts his head to the side, his tongue wetting his bottom lip. "you touch yourself while you read this shit, kid?"
you cheeks burn hotter, and you feel utterly exposed. the embarrassment is overwhelming, and you're desperate to snatch the book from him, but he holds it high above his head, completely out of reach. in a moment of sheer panic, you climb onto him, your heart pounding as you try to grab the book.
"ain't this what she does in the book?" chris continues his relentless teasing, and you're completely mortified when his words sink in. "how did it go again? 'she straddles him, cagin' him between her thighs—'"
"stop!" you splutter, the humiliation overwhelming you until it feels like the walls are closing in, and you start to pray for the bed to swallow you whole and take you far away from this mortifying situation.
the towel around you feels like it's slipping, and your composure hangs by a thread. your breathing comes in laboured gasps as you frantically search for a way out of this mess — desperately trying to think of an excuse, even though you know there's no reason for that, especially with the book still in his hands.
"i kinda wanna try it, bun," he drawls, his words catching you completely off guard. you furrow your brows, blinking away the tears of humiliation pooling in your eyes as you stare at him in confusion. "wanna... wanna see what y'learned from this lil' book of yours."
you swallow thickly, his tone sending shivers down your spine, and you can't help but feel exposed under his gaze as you whisper, "w-what do you mean?"
he leans back against the headboard, the smirk on his face deepening. "y'know exactly what i mean, bun... been readin' all this shit—gotta have learned a few things, yeah? c'mon... show me."
you're still seated on his lap moments later, but your towel is loosely draped around your hips and your cunt is stuffed full of his cock — light, airy moans escaping your lips as you roll your hips the same way the woman does in the book.
chris' hands slip beneath the towel, palms against your ass, guiding your movements as he grinds up against you, pushing himself deeper into your spongy walls. your head lolls back, gasping as you weakly bounce on his cock, the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with your high-pitched moans.
"takin' my dick so fuckin' well, bun," chris hisses through clenched teeth. "learned a lot, yeah? keep goin'."
"m'trying!" you whimper, his cock brushing against the spot deep within that has you seeing stars, and your arms curl around his shoulders, gripping him tightly as you drool. "s'too much!"
"too much," chris mocks you quietly with a scoff, a laugh leaving him as his hands gip your supple ass cheeks, helping you bounce on him harder while he thrusts up into you, relishing in the sound of your squeals in his ears. "always gotta do the work f'you, bun... supposed t'be showin' me what you learned."
"ah! ah!" squeaks leave your lips uncontrollably, your pebbled nipples rubbing against his chest with each forceful thrust as he drives his cock deeper into your wet warmth.
the bed creaks beneath you as you muster up the strength to ride him again, bracing your hands on his chest as you lean up, bouncing your hips weakly in time with his thrusts.
"yeah... this what she taught you, bun? the woman in your book?" he grunts as his own hands roam up your spine, digging his fingers into your supple flesh, pulling you down onto him harder — filling and stretching you out completely, hitting all the right spots that have you faltering your movements.
beads of sweat trickle down chris' forehead as his darkened gaze watches you from below, his lips parted with heavy breathes. you whine at the sight, your back arching as your head falls back, the knot in your stomach letting you know how close you are to cumming.
however, you're surprised when chris' arms slip around you and he reaches up, his lips gently licking and nibbling at your nipple — a move you once read in the book and you gasp, the pleasure striking up your spine causing your body to tremble as you slump against him, your own arms tightening around his shoulders and threading your fingers through his hair, cumming around his cock with a cry.
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divider credits. @issysh3ll
© STURNIOZ
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caitified · 1 day ago
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Could you write something with CC who loves naps like always begging r to lay down with her and cuddle. I feel like her room is def -10 degrees and she uses it as an excuse to practically crawl under your skin
nap time
caitlin clark x reader
this was so personal to me as a nap enthusiast,those sound like my ideal conditions
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caitlin loved naps more than just about anything. it didn’t matter how busy her schedule was—practice, games, workouts—she always managed to find time to crash for an hour or two. she swore it was essential for her performance, but you were pretty sure she just loved curling up in her fortress of blankets and dozing off whenever she could.
and since the two of you started dating, she’d made it her personal mission to drag you into her napping habits. at first, you resisted—claiming you had too much to do, that it was too cold in her room, or that you weren’t tired. but caitlin was nothing if not persistent, and her endless whining (paired with her ridiculous pouting) eventually wore you down. now, it had become routine for her to beg you to nap with her, using every excuse in the book to get you to crawl under her mountain of blankets and cuddle up.
so, when you walked into her room that afternoon and saw her already burrowed in her usual spot, you knew exactly where this was going.
“come lay down with me,” she whined, stretching out her arms toward you from her cozy little nest.
“caitlin, your room feels like a walk-in freezer,” you reply, arms crossed and standing your ground. “i swear i saw my breath when i walked in.”
“that’s because it’s the perfect temperature for napping,” she argues, sitting up slightly. the blanket slips off her shoulder, and she immediately grabs it and tugs it back up like a burrito. “come on, it’s freezing—i need you to warm me up.”
you raise an eyebrow. “if it’s so cold, why don’t you just turn the heat on?”
she gasps like you’ve just suggested something heinous. “are you trying to kill me? it has to be cold so i can burrito up. but you’re supposed to be part of this equation. please.”
her pout is devastating. it always is, but you don’t let her win too easily. you stand there for a moment longer, pretending to deliberate while she stares at you with wide, pleading eyes. finally, you sigh dramatically. “fine. but only because i don’t want to listen to you complain all day.”
she grins triumphantly and throws back the corner of the blanket. “come here. you’re not going to regret it.”
the second you climb into bed, caitlin wastes no time wrapping herself around you like an octopus. her arms encircle your waist, her legs tangle with yours, and she tucks her face against your neck.
“see?” she mumbles, already sounding halfway to dreamland. “this is perfect. you’re so warm.”
“you’re like an actual furnace,” you counter, laughing softly as she squeezes you tighter.
she hums in contentment, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw. “that’s the point. now we’re the perfect temperature. don’t move.”
“i wasn’t planning on it,” you admit, feeling yourself start to relax against her. the chill of the room is long forgotten with caitlin clinging to you like a second skin.
her breathing evens out within minutes, and you glance down to find her completely out, her mouth slightly open and her hold on you still as firm as ever.
just as your own eyelids start to droop, she stirs slightly, nuzzling closer.
“love you,” she murmurs sleepily, the words barely audible but enough to make your heart swell.
“love you too,” you whisper back, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
thanks for reading! requests are open
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fishii-writes · 2 days ago
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salvatore - sae itoshi
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paring: sae x fem!reader
psst, look out for @/saioratral's version
cw: not proofread, intended lowercase, swearing!!, kaiser n reader are besties, reader is implied to be wearing a bikini/top with string at the back, slight horror themes, imagine i meant the description in a dandadan "acrobatic silky" way :3, no romance. i'd call this angst even, basically nearly 2.2k words of pain for reader, sae's lines are written in red, lyrics are in pink.
note: this includes themes of (in a way/implied) toxic sae. there's derealization themes in this, and swearing. there's a somewhat graphic? description of sae's face in this, and i want you to click off now if things like dandadan's art scare you. this isn't a very good horror/thriller fic but its certainly not smth i want anyone to be affected by. sae is kinda a ghost/hallucination ig. a bad memory.
a/n: wrote this in one sitting HELP. not my usual style. enjooyyy <3333 pls lmk how the "horror" went cus i wanna write more stuff like this :3 theres a few direct references of the song salvatore in this ;)
word count: 2190
listened to salvatore by lana del rey on repeat for this <3
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on. off. on. off.
the lights flicker, it’s so annoying. how are you meant to read beside the pool if the stupid light keeps turning on and off?!
well, to be fair. it’s nearly midnight and you’re sitting beside the pool of your best friend’s house. its like a cliché scene from some music video, and its definitely not as aesthetic as it looks. its way too hot for sitting outside at night. it’s hot and it’s dark, no one’s gonna see you. so you pull off your shirt. if anyone does happen to be outside this late at night, it should be considered a blessing to see you. hah, losers.
you had a swimsuit under it since you and your best friend would regularly take late night swims when you both would stay up.
ah, right. said best friend’s name wasn’t ever dropped.
cue to michael kaiser. yeah, your best friend is crazy rich and. well, crazy.
thankfully, he’s asleep in his room right now. its funny, you can’t sleep at a sleepover. since he has a week break off of soccer, he invited you over to stay. for the whole week. today is day two, and you already miss home. sure, you missed your ever busy best friend. but your bed at home… it calls you…
hey, at least you’re getting pampered and getting princess treatment from your best friend.
so, another few minutes pass. its even hotter with just a swimsuit’s top on, what on earth?? you wait a few more minutes, fanning your face with your hands in hopes to cool off. but it seems not. you open your book from where you left off, the words still too dimmed since the light keeps flickering.
fuck it, you think. i’ll just listen to music. so you pull out your phone, lowering the volume as to not wake up michael in his room. you slip off your shorts, now sitting on the seat beside the pool in just your swimsuit. the air’s stuffy in a way, but a cool breeze almost flirts with your hair when a rush hits your face.
perfect.
you turn up the volume just a bit, slipping into the pool by the ledge as quietly as you can. the cold water embraces every inch of your skin, from the tips of your toes to forming endearing rings around your thighs. it feels like a cold yet comforting hug around your waist, and like a kiss to the fabric of your swimsuit when it soaks through.
it’s just perfect.
you feel yourself find comfort in the cold water. it’s summer and stinking hot. you’ll probably be out here a while, so you let your hair soak itself in the water, just like your swimsuit. you cross your arms over the ledge, pulling yourself up a bit too bring your phone close. the screen is just barely readable, your phone’s battery is about to die. you sigh, opening spotify and pressing the shuffle button twice. there, smart shuffle. now you’ll have some form of anticipation. you place your phone down a safe distance from the ledge, pressing skip on the dim screen and turning it off. however long the battery lasts is okay, you’ll be entertained for so long.
a song you can’t remember the name of plays. it has a slow-ish opening, something you’d expect to have stuck in your head when you see a hot guy walk past. or when you suddenly get that surge of confidence, of that feeling when you feel, no, know, you’re attractive.
and that’s what the opening lines of the song make you feel.
you turn to face away from the ledge, your back leaning against the cold tiles as a sigh escapes your lips. a relaxed sigh. a somewhat bored sigh. but a content one, to say the least.
“i adore you, can’t you see? you’re meant for me~”
the song hits close to home, a little too close.
ah, that’s right. the cold tiles against your back are suddenly unwelcoming, its like this massive pool is boxing you in. what’s the feeling? the cold water isn’t nice anymore, its like its throwing insults at you for being in it. the embrace around your legs and waist isn’t loving anymore, its threatening.
what is this feeling??
your breath hitches, then quickens.
in, out. in, out. in-out-in-out-in-out-in-
you hyperventilate in the cold water, the ledges of the cold, dark pool seemingly boxing you in. its all in your head, you try reminding yourself. but it doesn’t work. tch, when have you ever listened to yourself, anyways?
you turn to try pulling yourself over the ledge and getting out the pool, but your hands are shaking and obviously wet. tears fill to the brim of your eyes, both of frustration and fear.
you’re alone. that’s right, you miss him.
you desperately try using your foot against the tiles of the interior of the pool, to give yourself a boost out of the dark sea. but your attempts are in vain, how stupid. stop thinking like that! its just like him!
the song continues playing, almost like its mocking your futile attempts to escape this forsaken pool.
“catch me if you can, working on my tan~”
shut up! you trying pushing yourself onto the ledge again, it works! and then you slip back down the slippery tiles. well, not before you hit your chin on the ledge. you whine out in pain, forgetting to be quiet. a panic attack is the last thing you want in a pool, in the dark and alone.
okay. try controlling your breathing. in for five seconds, out for seven. you try. but your breath hitches again. you cough out, shaky hands letting go of the ledge to cover your mouth in hopes to muffle the sound.
bad idea.
you lose your footing and can’t grab on in time, to really anything. despite being a suitable height for the depth of the pool on your chosen side, your head goes under the water for a few seconds.
you force one eye open the smallest bit, stretching your arm out to grab the ledge. the tips of your fingers just barely grasp the sharp ledge, pulling your head out of the dark void of horrors.
you gasp out for air, coughing between each attempt for your lungs
to produce an action similar to that of blowing up a balloon.
its a good thing you closed the door as much as you could before sneaking to sit beside the pool, otherwise, michael would’ve heard you. you didn’t lock it, though, so there was a barely one millimetre gap.
you desperately try boosting yourself up just a bit once more, your tired body just barely forcing you up. you throw your arms over the ledge, crossing them over each other like you would cross them over your chest.
finally, you’re stable enough to keep your head above the water. your breathing also stabilises a bit, you can finally hear what song spotify has decided to play for you.
“puttin’ on my music, while i’m watchin’ the boys~”
you lightly, almost emptily laugh. like, what boys? he ignored your confession years ago, no more boys are worth looking for. with music dedicated to them, at that.
“that’s funny. more like music while i’m watchin’ the girls.” you hear a voice. not just any voice, a voice that pangs your heart. a voice that makes it feel like your lungs are filled with chlorine water again. a voice that cuts your fingers a hundred times worse than the ledge of the pool. a voice that fucks your mind over.
“s-sae…” you internally curse yourself for stuttering. no this can’t be real. why is he here? how?
you don’t turn around. hopefully you’re just talking to yourself. but you feel that same feeling, the one where an unrequited lover’s gaze stares holes into your back. despite being in clothing meant for the pool, your back mostly exposed, it feels like his eyes are undressing you. it’s like his eyes are pulling the string on the back of your swimsuit, its like he wants you to relive the pain of being tossed aside like some useless piece of trash.
“[name].” this is just a nightmare, this is just a nightmare. don’t fall for it. don’t fall for it again. don’t fall for him. don’t fall for him again.
he lightly laughs, it sounds mocking. it sounds like he’s walking closer. shit.
“i see you’ve found some self worth. kind of sad, more pathetic.” he stops. where is he??
you don’t turn your face to look for him, either. it’s not the fear of seeing him, like reviving your feelings or something. its the fear of seeing him in general.
you hear the footsteps along the tiles again, this time closer.
“aw what, no response? you used to talk on and on to me.” his voice is mocking, it’s almost… distorted? like in the slightest, it sounds distorted. it’s scary, like those distorted white faces you’d see on jump scare videos. now the fear’s really caught up to you, you hide your face in the crook of your crossed arms. you can feel goose bumps form on your skin, the cool breeze from earlier no longer endearing. it’s threatening. the hairs on your neck stick up as fast as you used to perk up when sae would see your messages. truly pathetic.
“don’t ignore me, my dear [name]. we have so much to catch up on~” his voice sounds more and more distorted by the second, you hear a crack. as comical as it sounds, the crack sounded like the sound of a neck cracking. in a bad way.
the steps move closer. and then they stop. for a good few minutes, they stop. its quiet.
oh thank god, it was your imagination. you slowly life your head, breathing out a sigh of relief-
then a hand settles on your shoulder. long, cold fingers fiddle with your hair. you slowly, almost like you’re stuck in slow-motion, turn your face.
there, a fully white-faced sae is bend over in the most inhumane, most terrifyingly distorted position you could even being to fathom. not to say just that, his face is elongated in an almost dandadan looking style. horror movies are fucking lies.
“come back home, [name]~” his eyes are black, drooping like liquid. his mouth is black, a drooping smile cursing his once smile-graced lips. his neck is bend in such weird ways, and his hands are elongated and around your neck.
around your fucking neck?! he slightly tilts his head, smile growing and showing his teeth that are weirdly far back in his mouth. not to say this whole situation isn’t weird or scary or any other fucking word other than ‘weird’! nope, nuh uh, no fucking way.
his head moves in an almost mechanical manner. one slight tilt makes a loud crack noise. his hand around your neck begins to squeeze, this isn’t a fucking dream!
you scream out as loud as you can, that one millimetre gap in the door being enough for your scream to reach michael. he open the door loudly, yelling out.
“[name]?! what happened?!” he yells, carefully running over the wet tiles to where you’re choking on your own sobs. he leans over the ledge, wrapping his arms around your waist and shoulders to pull you up. you lay in his lap and in the safety of his arms, sobbing and grabbing onto the back of his shirt like some distorted figure was about to end your fucking life in front of you. distorted figure of your first and only love, that is.
“what happened?” he repeats a bit softer, hugging you close. your hands desperately claw the back of his shirt, eventually falling limp.
he’s gone. sae’s gone. he was never there.
you stay frozen, what do you tell michael?? you don’t wanna worry him. you’re about to come up with a lie, but…
there’s a tap on your shoulder, and you don’t even need to turn around. from the corner of your eye, you see a long, white finger. shit.
it’s gonna be a long night, the tears fill and blur your eyes once more. your phone hadn’t run out of better just yet, so all that had happened in a span of maybe ten minutes.
smart shuffle played the same song again.
“salvatore can wait, now its time to eat, soft ice cream~”
both distorted? sae and the song whisper mockingly in your ears.
aww, and they say romance is dead ;)
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taglist: @your-local-reblogging-kazoo , @tofumiarchives ,
@saioratral , @lakeside-paradise , @lumiambrose ,
@sharks-3 , @neoegoistleague + open (send an ask if you'd like to be added! :D)
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likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! <3
© fishii-writes 2024
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thatonebirdwrites · 2 days ago
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Gosh, I can relate to this.
I think about what fandom is a lot since I sort of lurk in a lot of spaces (until I feel brave enough to speak or share).
First off, the point of this addition isn't to guilt trip anyone, but to get people thinking about what community means. What inclusion means, and what engagement means. And how those are interconnected.
One of the crucial pillars of fandom, and the reason fandom exists at all is because of community.
Writing fanfiction and sharing it for free is about building community with one another. It's people who loved a show/movie/book enough that they wanted to play in the world longer, so they play together in that world with other people who love it too. That's what fanworks are -- it's people playing together in community because of a love toward a specific series/media.
But community requires communication. It requires building connections. It requries engaging one another.
I write long fics. In fact, adding up the word counts of my fics in AO3? It's well over a million words in two different fandoms. These are free novels written because the community had been welcoming at first and it had encouraged me to keep going.
But I made a mistake. Two of these projects (in two separate fandoms) I made into a series. Because of how each part in a series means the sequel gets less engagement, it feels like I'm watching a community dissolve, and that's painful. I don't get paid for this. It's all free, and part of the reason I went to fanfic writing was because of community.
Lack of engagement gives, often unintentionally, the author the message that they aren't really part of the fandom's community. At least not anymore (if they ever were).
Some say, "Well, don't write for your readers!"
Well, no, I don't write for my readers, but the act of sharing for free is me giving to the community and building up community.
But part of building up community requires people to give back in turn. Oherwise the community will fracture and fall apart.
The reason fandom exists at all is because of community.
It's the community part of fandom that has helped me to heal enough to write again, but when that community dries up or no longer engages with me, then what am I to do? I've lost that community, and if I continue to engage with it and get very little (if not nothing) in return, then at that point, I'm throwing my energy into a void in hopes for a scrap of community.
It ceases to fulfill the need. It leaves me feeling lost and alone. And finding out later how much people loved a fic I wrote but that fic received very little engagement? It tells me that I'm not loved as a person within the community.
I have watched and listen to people talk about how much it hurts when the work they put in so much effort in for the community gets little to no engagement. It often pushes them to engage less, to stop writing, and watching that happen? It hurts to see.
Community requires communication. Do not treat an fanfic author like a kiosk, where you grab the story and run. Treat them like they are part of your community. By doing so, by including them, you bolster their sense of belonging and are more likely to get stories in return.
Community needs to be reciprocal. And I fear fandoms are losing that understanding of what community is. They expect and sometimes demand more, but what are they doing to support that fanfic writer or artist? Are they engaging them and uplifting them within the community? Or are they not engaging them?
If you read an author's work and love it, include them in that community by sharing your thoughts in a comment. You don't necessarily have to comment on every chapter of a longer work (Though it is so lovely some do), but to at least offer up comments here and there to be inclusive of that author.
Engagement bolsters the community bond.
The lack of engagement breaks the community bond.
And that's a sort of grief. Us writers came for community and to share our love of the fandom with others. When we fail to be included in that community, it will hurt. It's a type of rejection that people may not even realize they are doing.
Community requires communication, and for fandoms, part of that communication is comments, kudos, (and gosh, even tumblr asks).
I hope that helps give people another perspective to consider.
Think it over. Think about what you'd like to give back to the creators in your community.
And please understand, if you can only give back one or so comments? That's okay and valid, and that too builds up community.
Even little actions matter.
Never think your small action doesn't matter or that your comment or kudos doesn't matter. It does. It helps build community too.
Thanks for reading. Be safe.
A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.
My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.
My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.
This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.
Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.
I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.
So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.
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pandapetals · 2 days ago
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Xavier shows you a photo of the X-Men from their younger days.
professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair
read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here
Xavier’s office was usually a place for quick meetings, somewhere you and Logan visited only for mission briefings or occasional check-ins. But today, while waiting for the Professor, you found yourself lingering, letting your eyes wander over the collection of old, leather-bound books and the intricate wood detailing that gave the room a cozy, timeless charm. It felt like stepping into a library from another era, filled with the scent of aged paper and polished oak.
"Admiring the place?" Xavier's warm voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see him wheeling himself in with a small smile.
"Sorry, Professor," you said, slightly sheepish. "I didn’t mean to snoop."
He chuckled, waving a hand to dismiss your apology. "It’s quite all right. I must admit, it’s rare to have you in my office for longer than a moment."
You raised an eyebrow, curious. "What do you mean?"
Xavier’s smile grew, a fondness lighting up his face. "You’re a busy woman. And Logan… well, he seems rather determined to keep you occupied," he said with a soft laugh, his tone carrying a hint of mischief.
You laughed too, nodding. "He does have a habit of dragging me into all his projects. Says he’s teaching me ‘important skills,’" you replied, making air quotes with a smirk. "Last week it was ‘how to change the oil in a motorcycle,’ which turned out to be mostly him showing off while I handed him tools."
Xavier's expression softened, his eyes filled with a quiet pride. "You know," he began, his voice gentler now, "He was… rough around the edges when he first joined us. Lost, even. But you…" He paused, searching for the right words. "You’ve helped him find a part of himself he didn’t even realize he had."
A warmth blossomed in your chest at his words. "I think he’d say the same about all of you, Professor," you replied softly. "This place… the X-Men… you’re his family."
Xavier nodded, his gaze drifting to a framed photo on his desk. "We are, yes," he murmured, then reached over and picked up the frame, holding it out to you. "But it’s different now. I think you’ve made him realize he’s allowed to want more than that."
You took the frame, looking down at a photograph that seemed to capture a moment frozen in time. It was a group shot of the original X-Men—Jean, Scott, Ororo, Hank, and Xavier. They were all smiling, looking so much younger, full of energy and purpose. There, slightly to the side, arms crossed and brows furrowed was Logan. He looked much younger too, but even then, there was a touch of that familiar gruffness in his stance, a man who hadn’t quite found his place.
"He hasn’t changed much," you said softly, studying Logan’s face in the photo, taking in the wild hair and the faint scowl. "Still has that brooding intensity."
Xavier chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Indeed. Though I think he’d deny it if anyone pointed it out."
You handed the photo back to Xavier, your heart full as you thought about the man Logan had become and the quiet way he had opened himself to you over time. "Thank you for showing me this, Professor."
"It was my pleasure," he said, his voice warm. "And thank you, truly, for making him the man he was always meant to be."
Later that evening, you found Logan in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge with a half-hearted grumble about there never being enough beer. You leaned against the counter, watching him with a fond smile until he finally noticed and turned to look at you, one eyebrow raised.
"Why are you starin' at me like that?" he asked, his tone suspicious but amused.
You bit back a smirk, crossing your arms as you studied him, letting your gaze linger on the familiar lines of his face, his scruffy beard, the hair that always had a life of its own. "I was just thinking," you said, feigning an air of innocence. "Xavier showed me an old photo of the team today. You know, back when you all were young and fresh-faced."
Logan rolled his eyes, closing the fridge with a sigh. "Oh, here we go," he muttered, clearly bracing himself for whatever you were about to say.
"You had… quite the hairstyle," you teased, grinning. "Those wild sideburns, that brooding glare... Honestly, you looked like the cover of some 80s rock album. I half-expected to see a guitar slung over your shoulder."
He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, yeah. Real funny, sweetheart," he grumbled, though you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Didn’t realize I was signin' up to be mocked for my ‘youthful looks’ when I married you."
You laughed, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his waist. "Oh, I’m not complaining," you murmured, resting your head against his chest. "In fact, I think I would’ve fallen for you back then, too."
Logan raised an eyebrow, looking down at you with a skeptical smirk. "You? Fallin' for the cranky loner with bad hair? I don’t buy it."
You shrugged, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. "What can I say? I have a type," you teased. "Apparently, I’m a sucker for brooding, wild-haired men with a mysterious past."
He let out a soft chuckle, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you closer. "Well, lucky for me, then," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Guess I did somethin' right if I managed to get you to stick around."
You looked up at him, your hand finding his cheek, your thumb brushing over the familiar lines of his face. "You’re everything I could’ve ever wanted, Logan," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. "Sideburns and all."
He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes, and you felt his hand slip into yours, squeezing gently. "Love you, darlin’," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.
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ddejavvu · 3 days ago
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Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Five) (18+) / Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.
Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post
WC: 7.0k / navigation / inbox
A/N: Thank you all for waiting for this chapter! I know it took me longer to finish this one than it did the others but it's the longest chapter so far, and I also had a lot of major life events go down in the time between this chapter and last. I appreciate each and every single one of you who stayed patient with me, and I hope that this chapter and that the rest to come are worth the wait :) <3
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
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You’re doing a terrible job at paying attention to where you’re going as you take the elevator, jamming your finger against the 12 button so hard it hurts. Pizza is on the twelfth floor, and you’re hoping Daniel will be there early like you so that you can forget about Jake and his tyrannical rule. 
It’s clear as day to you; Jake thinks he has control over you just the same way he has control over the girls that drool over him at the Hard Deck. He thinks one glance will melt your brain into mush, but it won’t. It doesn’t, and you’re not letting the cockiest man you know believe he’s won you over. Especially one that you work with. If anyone found out- if any of your fellow aviators knew that you’d succumbed to Jake’s charms… you’d risk losing the respect you’ve fought hard to earn on the tarmac. You’re not letting your career take a nosedive because Jake won’t stop bragging about getting his dick wet. He doesn’t get a say in your life if he has nothing genuine to contribute to it. You know him well enough to know that caving in and fucking would be the worst decision of your life, and you refuse to let him feel like he’s won you like a prize. You’re standing up for yourself; if he can shit-talk Daniel, you can shit-talk Miss Melons.
Your skin prickles with annoyance the more you think about the woman that had approached you both- seriously, did she not consider that she was being intrusive and rude? You assume Jake has snagged her away from her roommate by now, and they’re probably having a better time than you are. 
Everything feels unfair, down to the coincidental roommate placement. It’s like the universe had heard you needed a break, and wanted to punish you for it.
Cracking open your book helps, but it takes you a while to get into the groove. You’re sitting poolside across from the pizza place, eyes glancing from page to parlor every once in a while to check for a certain bearded man. The main lead is compelling, and your stomach soars as you imagine Daniel in a cowboy hat. You’d save that horse.
Peace is hard to find while sitting poolside on a cruise, but chaos is actually the perfect white noise for you to read, and your concentration isn’t broken until a shadow falls over your lounge chair. You glance up, but it’s not the man you’d wanted to see.
“Hey.” Jake’s already frowning, his face apprehensive like he thinks you’ll scream at him to get away. You want to, but you don’t want to cause a scene.
“What, Hangman?”
“I’m not trying to control you.” He pushes despite seeing your gaze back on your book, “I just don’t think you’re meant to be with Daniel. But I shouldn’t have given you a hassle for doing the same thing to me. I just… I do it because-”
He stops short, glancing sideways at a man running despite the clear no running sign on the lifeguard tower. You decide to help him in his moment of need.
“Because you’re used to women who let you walk all over them. Even if you’re not trying to control me, you’re used to having that control. It’s familiar for you, so you expect it, even if you don’t know you’re doing it. But I’m not like that. You can’t keep me waiting on you.”
The scoff he lets out is accompanied by an expression that looks truly pained, “That ain’t it at all. But forget it. Don’t worry about why I do it. I just thought maybe you were doin’ it to me for the same reasons. But never mind. I’ll shut up about Daniel. Truce?”
You glare up at him, book still open in your lap. He extends an uncharacteristically helping hand, and you wait a truly uncomfortable amount of time before taking it and shaking once.
“Truce.”
He takes the chair beside you, stretched out in the sun. Unfortunately, it seems like your reading time is over as his head turns to you, “So, Dudley showed up yet?”
“He’s coming for lunch.” You cling to your novel, trying desperately to ignore Jake and his instantly broken promise, “What about Melon girl, they weren’t ripe enough for you?”
“She wasn’t my type.” He starts, and there’s a heavy silence before he continues, “I don’t like a woman who thinks it’s fun to get between a couple.”
The sideways glance you send Hangman, the ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk, is lethal.
“Anyways.” He continues, tone more casual now, “Fancy a swim, darlin’?”
“I’ll read instead,” You offer, “But you have fun, Hangman.”
“Party Pooper,” He accuses, standing from the lounge chair he’s occupying and stretching briefly, “You’re an absolute mood-killer. No fun, the most boring person on this boat.”
“I’m about to be more of one: have you put sunscreen on?”
“Nope,” He grins, “You volunteering to do the honors, you sleazy thing?”
“Absolutely not. But you can use the stuff in my bag.” You nod at your tote bag, “Don’t use it all, though.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jake nods, folding into a seat on the edge of the lounge chair beside yours, “So, what’s going on in that book, they boning yet?”
“Mhm.” You nod absently as Jake begins smearing sunscreen over his arms and legs, “Real sexy stuff.”
“I’ve got somethin’ sexier for you.”
“It’s a porn book, Hangman,” You clarify, in case he’s forgotten, “I’m trying to read porn. Leave me alone.”
“There’s porn right here!” He calls, arms out to show off his impressively tanned and toned chest, a thick layer of sunscreen giving it a sheen that glistens in the light. As reluctant as you are to admire anything about Jake, you can’t lie; he has a body worth ogling. But you will not ogle it.
“This porn’s better,” You hum, glancing up at Jake through your lashes, deceptively inviting, “This guy’s got a cowboy hat on.”
“I’ve got a million and one cowboy hats,” Jake insists, slowly inching towards you and away from the edge of the pool, “Is that really all it takes, darlin’? ‘Cause I can slap one on in seconds, if that’s what you’re after. ‘Even brought one with me in case my roommate was into it.”
“Mm, maybe,” You let him get closer, excitement clearly swirling in his eyes as he advances towards your chair. He doesn’t notice the shifting of your feet until it’s too late and one is shoving firmly against his chest, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling backwards into the pool.
There’s not anyone in his immediate vicinity besides you, so you take the brunt of the splash, but it’s worth it.
“But I like it better when the hat’s on a real gentleman!” You call, laughter interrupting your words as Jake emerges from the pool well and truly soaked, shaking water out of his hair. He’s been thoroughly underwater trained, so he’d been able to catch his breath in time despite the surprise of it all, and there’s no real harm done besides the initial splash.
“You dirty rotten minx,” He calls, water dripping from his short hair into his eyes, “You lured me in with the promise of cowboy hat sex just to push me in the pool?”
“I can’t believe you fell for it!” You’re still laughing, but maybe this bout of giggles is only to annoy him, “That’s, like, the oldest trick in the book. Well, maybe besides the cowboy hat sex thing. But you shouldn’t have gotten so close!”
He braces his elbows on the wall of the pool, the border surely burning his skin. But he stares at you regardless, “I thought you were finally givin’ in.”
“It’d take a lot more than a cowboy hat to make me give in, Jake.” You laugh, turning back to your book, “Like, a full personality transplant.”
Jake hears Danica’s words repeated back to him in his head, ‘Show, don’t tell’.
“Noted. I’ll look into one’uh those,” He quips, smile sarcastic and empty as he resorts to swimming alone, “Hey, when you’re done with that chapter, you should join me.”
“No.”
“Alright.”
You glance away from the book’s pages at Hangman’s unusual, immediate acceptance of your refusal. But he lifts himself out of the water- no stairs, no ladder, only his forearms against the deck, and your stomach sinks as you realize he might be playing a game of wills with you.
Instead, he sits beside you again, this time facing away from you, “Will you rub some sunscreen on my back?”
You want to say no. You would, if he were only asking to feel your hands on him. And maybe that’s part of it, but you also know that as much as he tans, he could burn, and his back is the only part of himself that he can’t reach. You’d want someone to do you the solid too, so you sigh and set your book aside.
“Fine. But you owe me.”
“Mhm.” He nods, passing you the sunscreen, “I’ll rub it wherever you want, Y/N.”
You whack him upside the head with the bottle, and when he hisses in pain and pitches forwards, you squirt some of the lotion onto your palm and begin applying it to the broad, tanned, muscled expanse of his back.
You’re no masseuse, but apparently you’re rubbing all the right places, because Jake lets out grunts and groans that are borderline pornographic. If they were coming from anyone else, you might have squirmed in your seat, but each one sends your eyes rolling skywards as you cover Jake’s skin in goopy sun lotion.
“Damn, you’re good.” Jake grunts as you dig into a knot beneath his shoulder blade, “Do that again?”
“I’m putting sunscreen on you, Jake, not working out muscle tension.”
“Oh, come on, just a little more?” He pleads, turning so that he can glance at you from the side of his gaze, eyes shining in prayer.
You dig extra hard into his muscle, and you take some sort of wicked pleasure in the way that his resulting groan is more of a pained yelp than something of enjoyment. 
“There, Hangman.” You whack the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades, “You’re all oiled up.”
“Aren’t you glad you were the one to get to do it?” Jake grins blindingly, and you bury your nose in your book again to avoid answering his question.
“Oh, you can stick your face in that book all you want,” Jake drawls, and you hear the displacement of the water he steps in as he lowers himself into the pool, gracefully and by choice this time, “But I know you liked having your hands all over me, darlin’.”
You want to gripe something back- something witty and cutting that will tear him down where he stands, but he’s turned away from you, already submerging himself to begin swimming laps. You admire his dedication to exercise even while on vacation- you have no plans to visit the gym in the lower decks.
Jake sees the diving board just as you do, and you keep him in your peripheral vision as he climbs out of the pool to make his way up the ladder. Your novel is begging to be read, but your eyes stick firm on one fitting word- ‘abdomen’ so that you can watch Jake from the corner of your eye as he prepares to dive.
Fortunately, you don’t need to continue the ruse of reading because Jake bellows from across the deck, “Y/N, look!”
You’re met with a grin when you look up at him, his arms raised above his head and joined flush together in diving position, “I’m gonna dive- watch me.”
“I’m watching.” You call, injecting your voice with as much disinterest as you can manage without feeling guilty, “This feels like babysitting, Hangman.”
He dives instead of quipping back, and it’s an impressive one, not that you’ll sing his praises for it. He comes up on the side of the pool closest to you, arms flinging an arc of water onto the concrete before you.
“Was it good?” He asks, panting slightly, hanging onto the wall.
“Yes,” You reply, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you condescend to him, “You did so good, honey.”
“Shut up,” He sends a wave of water splashing over your sandals, and you can’t be mad at him after all the teasing you’ve been inflicting upon him.
“I’ve been workin’ on my diving,” He goes back to swimming around, this time more casual as he keeps his head above the water to speak with you, “My nieces back home are learnin’ to swim so I’ve been in the pool a lot lately. Anytime they drag me in there I dive in and splash them.”
His arms cut through the water with strength and ease, confident strokes as you mull over his words. The image of Jake urging a toddler in floaties to cross a 3-foot gap into his arms is- endearing, not that you’ll admit it. You hum in acknowledgement, and tuck back into your book.
There’s not many people in the pool this early- most are probably still in bed with a hangover and a mess to clean up - and it’s large to boot, so there’s plenty of room. Your eyes drift left and catch sight of a jacuzzi, and suddenly your beach chair seems to pale in comparison.
Okay, you won’t join Jake in the pool, but you’ll relax for a couple of minutes in the jacuzzi. Just until Daniel gets here.
Jake doesn’t notice that you’ve stood until your chair is empty, and you have a perfect view of him floundering, scanning the entire deck until he spots you half-submerged in the hot tub.
You get to laugh at him again, and he grants you a good-natured grin instead of getting annoyed.
“I thought you’d finally found what’s-his-name,” Jake swims over to the separation wall that keeps the hot water parted from the cold, “Mind if I join you, Y/N?”
“Only if you’re- careful!” You shriek, trying desperately to protect the pages of your book from his sopping wet skin as he scales the barrier, “Hangman, if this book gets wet, you’re replacing it for me.”
“Alright, alright! I’ll take you on a shopping spree, relax. Hey, if I’m buyin’ you porn books, doesn’t that make me somethin’ like a sugar daddy?”
“You’re not getting any sugar,” You shrug, “But sure.”
“Just call me daddy, Y/N.” He grins, “That’s all the sugar I need.”
You hide behind your book so that he can’t see the way your face wrinkles into a grimace. The heat from the jacuzzi spreads inexplicably quick all of a sudden, warming your neck, your ears, your face, and Jake lets out a thick, heavy groan as he settles into the warm water.
“This is nice.” He muses, eyes closed, “Real relaxing.”
“It’s less relaxing when someone’s talking the whole time,” You peek across the side of your book, “Shut up, maybe?”
Jake snorts, leaning his head back against the edge of the pool, “Alright, alright your majesty. I’ll stay silent.”
You don’t verbally thank him, but you don’t make a scene when his leg drifts across the jet currents of the jacuzzi to brush against yours.
You cover a good chunk of your novel before a voice calls your name, and this time it’s the two people you’d been hoping to see all morning. Danica waves giddily at you and Jake, who’s picked his head up from where you thought he’d fallen asleep and is already mad-dogging Daniel. You wave back to Danica, and cast a quick glance down at your bathing suit before standing to greet Daniel. It’s just as tight and showy as you prefer it to be. 
You pay no attention to Jake where he gets out behind you, too focused on Daniel to care. But perhaps you should have, because you’re two steps from meeting Daniel in the middle when Jake’s strong arm shoves you sideways, and your book is wrenched from your grasp as you fall sideways into the pool.
It’s cold, colder even because you’d been soaking in the hot tub. You’re surprised, but you suppose you can’t even really be mad at him considering it’s just payback for what he’d done to you.
You’ve barely righted yourself in the water before there’s another splash beside you, and when you finally emerge there’s hands reaching for your waist, Daniel’s as you realize he’d jumped in to help you. 
“You-!” You splutter at Jake with bleary, chlorine-soaked eyes, attention split between Daniel who’s trying to ensure you’re alright, and Jake who’s snickering while holding your book in his thankfully dry hand.
“You asshole.” Daniel finishes for you, “She could have drowned!”
“I know how to swim,” You brace a hand on Daniel’s chest- startlingly bare, but riddled with coarse, brown hair, “It’s fine, I- I pushed him in earlier.”
“Relax, Prince Charming. It’s just a bit of payback. And look,” Jake waves your novel in front of you, “Dry as a bone.”
“Well I am- uh, not.” You stand half-submerged in the pool, Daniel still holding onto your waist, “So, I guess I will go swimming.”
“Great. You can swim with us.” Daniel smiles, warm and inviting as he keeps his hands on you.
“Yeah, us.” Jake agrees, taking Danica’s towel and spreading it over a sunny lounge chair for her.
Jake helps lower Danica gently into the pool, holding her hand while she takes the stairs, before jumping in beside you so that you’re splashed by the wave he creates.
“You are an asshole,” You laugh, breaking away from Daniel’s grip to shove at Jake’s shoulder. The grins on your faces are bright and genuine, perhaps the first time you’ve both been able to laugh with each other the entire trip. It feels nice, and you don’t fight when he shoves back at you with strong arms.
“Hey- hey!” Danica shouts, standing behind Daniel with a hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you turn that pushing and shoving into a game of chicken?”
“I’m down,” Daniel seems thrilled to be opposite Jake as he lowers himself for Danica to climb atop his shoulders, “Y/N, you okay on his shoulders?”
Jake does the honors himself, dunking himself under the water and coming up between your legs. You barely have time to plant your hands on the top of his head, fingers twisting instinctively into his hair as you accidentally tug it while he stands at his full height again.
“Shit, sorry Hangman.” You let go of his hair, hoping you hadn’t yanked too hard. He’s forgiven, for now, so you won’t resort to childish things like hair-pulling.
“That’s okay, darlin’.” He grins, craning his neck back to meet your eye, “I like it when you tug on my hair.”
You have to overlook Jake’s suggestive comment as Danica’s already reaching for you, and you eagerly engage in a shoving match while the two men beneath you plant themselves into the bottom of the pool. You manage to get a leg up on Danica, and they’re both pushed backwards by the force of your shove, but Daniel surges forwards and ends up knocking you and his roommate right into each other.
You collapse against Danica, forehead-to-forehead, giggling like little girls. Her eyes are bright and shining with amusement, and her breath smells minty- like gum, not toothpaste. You’re more than happy to begin pushing at each other again, and though you’re confident your navy-built muscles are going to prevail, she lands a critical shove against your shoulder that throws you off-balance and sends you toppling off of Jake’s shoulders.
The water is cold, colder than you remember as you splash into it, and when you come up for air, already laughing, Jake’s facing you, having turned when you’d fallen from his shoulders. He’s grinning too, a hand already outstretched to help you up, but upon seeing you stand his eyes widen and his face drops.
“Shit.” He lunges for you, cutting through the water as his arm wraps around your back to yank you tight against his chest. You protest, grunting with exertion as you try fighting against his grip. But his muscles are impressive, and you’re trapped against his chest despite your best efforts.
“Would you cut it out? I’m trying to help you. Your top came untied.”
“What?” You splutter, water trailing down your face as you quell your instinctive struggle against his crushing hold. You realize that the reason for the extreme cold had, in fact, been because your bikini top had abandoned ship, and you barely have time to process the feeling of your bare tits slammed up against Jake’s hard, toned chest before he’s fishing the bathing suit out of the water and feeding it around your waist.
“Up,” He instructs, lifting his eyes to the expansive blue sky above you so that you can separate yourself from his chest for long enough to cover your own again. It’s- a strange gesture of courtesy that you would have expected from Daniel, sure, but not Jake. Perhaps that’s why you’re so sluggish, why it takes you longer than expected to fit your top back over your tits and grapple with the strings.
“You decent?” Jake asks, and when you grunt in confirmation he drops his eyes again. He notices you struggling with the ties and reaches for them himself, gently swatting your fingers away as he uses his advantage of sight. It presses his muscular shoulder up against your face, and you turn so that your cheek rests against it instead of your nose. Suddenly you’re held against his chest like a slow dance, and something terribly and inexplicably squirmy happens in your stomach.
“Done. I double knotted it.” He hums, and it’s such a sincere tone, one that’s completely vacant of all his usual dickishness, that you lose yourself staring at his face when he pulls away. You begin examining it for any sign that perhaps he was murdered and replaced with a poorly-trained doppelganger.
His hair looks right, albeit sopping wet. His eyebrows are growing slightly bushier than usual, but nothing you’d consider a complete and total imposter. His nose is still the same: strong, slightly downturned (though not as far as Rooster’s), and there’s a tiny patch of sunscreen that hasn’t been rubbed in near his right eye. His mouth is set in a determined purse as he double knots the strings of your bikini top together, and his eyes- his eyes are different.
Miles different than you’ve ever seen them. The outside edge of his hazel-green rings is softened, like someone has blurred their usual sharp border and lined it with suede. His pupils are huge, and they’d be eclipsing his irises if those weren’t so big and puppy-like. He is, in every sense of the word, gentle, inside and out. 
Jake has never been gentle before. 
“You alright?” He asks, and you snap back to reality with his large hands spread over the expanse of your bare back, the eyes that you’d been examining firmly and concernedly fixed upon you. Only a few meager strings separate his skin from yours, and you nod once, steadily as you gently push his arms off of you.
“Let’s go again,” You call to Danica and Daniel, your voice a piss-poor attempt at strength and nonchalance as it lacks its usual life, “Good hit, Danica. But watch out, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“Bring it,” She grins gleefully, and her giddy gaze drifts downwards to Jake’s face when he lifts you onto his shoulders yet again. From the looks of it they share some sort of silent conversation- some inside joke that you’re not privy to. 
Something about that, something about her excluding you from a conversation with your own teammate makes you shove her, not enough to knock her off of Daniel’s shoulders, but enough to show her that you’re not going easy on her. She shrieks giddily as she writhes to stay balanced on Daniel’s shoulders, a smidge less broad than Jake’s. You’re thankful for that, for the steady mount you’ve got, as you resume pushing and shoving at Danica.
Jake is going insane. Not only does the phantom sensation of your bare tits- nipples hard from the chilly pool water - stick to him like a wet t-shirt, he can feel you against the back of his neck, your warm sex nestled snugly against him with only the bottom half of your bikini to separate you. Your thighs bracket his head, close enough for him to reach out and bite at, but he has to focus on keeping his stance sturdy so that you can play properly. Daniel’s glaring viciously at him across the few feet that separates the four of you, and he’s not going to let Mr. Mailman win. 
This time, Jake suspects you’ve used that military muscle of yours, because Danica slips backwards off of Daniel’s dewy shoulders and splashes into the pool. Your hand cups beneath Jake’s chin, tilting his head upwards and leaning it back into your lap.
“Nice one,” He grins upside-down at you, and you bump your fist against his when he offers it. Then you’re craning your neck down, surely uncomfortable as you leave mere inches between your lips and his, and his ears are ringing.
“Back up,” You murmur, disguising it as a congratulatory speech while Daniel helps Danica back onto his shoulders, “Get them to chase us and we’ll use the momentum against them.”
“Darlin’,” Jake proclaims, pride puffing up his chest that your legs are resting against, “You’re my kinda woman. Always looking to win.”
“Just do it, Hangman,” You scoff, but your eye-roll is less than irritated, fond if anything due to your partnership as Jake drops his head to face Daniel and Danica once more.
Jake stands in place where he’d been before, but when Danica engages with you he begins backing up. Slowly, carefully, ensuring that his feet are planted steadily each step so that you’re not tipped over, he makes his way towards the drop off towards the deeper end of the water. Daniel follows, taking the bait, and soon enough his predicament becomes obvious: he’s not as tall as Jake.
He stands somewhere close to six feet, surely, but not past it like Jake does. Your partner’s head is still comfortably above water, smirk in full force as Daniel’s beard becomes waterlogged. 
“That’s not fair!” Danica laughs, petting sympathetically at Daniel’s sopping wet hair, “Poor guy, we’ll get you stilts for the next round.”
Daniel lands a teasing pinch against the curve of her ass and she shrieks. You lunge for her, using her momentary shock to catch her off guard as you send her tumbling backwards into the water behind Daniel. 
You don’t have time to celebrate before Jake is ducking down and slipping himself out from beneath you, his strong arms bracing your fall so that you barely sink a few feet into the water. He crushes you in a celebratory hug, his laughter harmonizing with your own. He turns you both to face Daniel and Danica as they splutter to catch their breath, his cheek pressed flush against your own. 
“Chicken Champions,” He declares, holding you tight to his side at his own height, which means your feet float above his own in the water, “I’d offer to go again, but that’d just be cruel. You ladies wanna chatter in the hot tub while Danny-Boy and I show off on the diving board?”
“I brought a book,” Danica hums, face dripping with water you feel only mildly guilty for submerging her in, “If you wanna read, Y/N, I’ll do it with you.”
“Perfect.” Daniel nods, already cutting through the water on his way to the diving board, “I’ll be careful not to splash you guys.”
“I won’t.” Jake supplies helpfully, his grin turned shit-eating as he eyes you up, “No point in reading one of them smutty porn books if you’re not soaking wet.”
“Splash me and I’ll throw your room key off the side of the boat, Hangman,” You promise, “You’ll be begging strangers to take pity on you in the elevator.”
“Nah, that’s not my style,” Jake’s voice is dripping with intent while Daniel takes position on the diving board, his swim trunks dripping steady trails of water. You don’t know why until he continues, taking his own bait, “I’ll leave that to Daniel.”
You blame Jake’s comment for why Daniel’s dive nearly turns into a belly flop. It’s instantaneous, really, Daniel’s changing of posture as he register’s Jake’s biting words, and you have half a mind to admonish Jake for riling Daniel up during a dive- that could have ended badly. As it stands, Daniel does a sort of cannonball, though not intentionally, and you and Danica cringe in unison when he lands, sending water splashing well over the divider into the hot tub. Your book remains mostly unscathed- only a droplet of water lands on the cover and obscures the male lead’s face, blurring out his beard and making him appear clean-shaven. 
Jake is already scaling the ladder, and when he gets to the top he surveys Daniel emerging from the water.
“Six,” He shrugs, sneering down at Daniel from the highest point on the deck, “‘Could’ve clinched a seven if you hadn’t splashed the ladies, but your form was still shit.”
He doesn’t give Daniel a chance to fire back- or maybe the man is just too smart to take Jake’s bait - before he sets his arms together above his head, and seamlessly, impeccably cuts through the water. For someone so muscular and bulky, his form is graceful- not that you’ll ever tell him that. Water arcs outwards from where he’d landed, one half of the splash practically targeting Daniel where he stands watching.
He swims farther, nearly reaching the other end of the pool before he emerges, shaking water from his hair like a dog as he looks intently at you and Danica in the hot tub for a rating.
“Ten!” Your reading companion shouts, blessedly unaware of the tense atmosphere- or again, too intelligent to fall for Jake’s lowly antics- and you look at the water-stained cover of your novel.
You smear away the water droplet with your dry thumb, and the male main character’s beard returns.
“Four.” You call, voice deadpan as you lock your eyes on your novel, “For playing dirty and sabotaging the other contestants.”
Hangman’s grin is open-mouthed and cemented into place as he stands taller than Daniel in the water, tanned skin standing starkly out from the blue of the chlorinated water, “Dirty’s the best way to play, darlin’.”
Danica shoots you a look from behind the spread of her novel that you’ve sent many-a-girlfriend before. It’s the wide-eyed, restrained smile that screams ‘We’re talking about this later’, and you mirror her expression with your own disdain.
“Leave us alone,” You call, grinning apologetically at Daniel so that he knows he’s only a bystander, “We want to read.”
“Let’s leave the ladies to their smut, Dorian.” Jake calls, louder than he needs to be as he stretches to display his toned abdomen and muscled arms, “We can find our own fun. Wanna see who can swim the fastest? Place your bets, ladies: pilot or mailman?”
“You swam pretty slow when you crash-landed in the Pacific that one time,” You muse, fighting to keep a smirk off of your face, “I remember thinking you would die in the time it took for you to swim back to shore.”
“Wouldn’t’ve gone so slow if I wasn’t hauling my RIO back to shore. He hit his head on the way down,” Jake dips his head towards Danica, happily regaling her with the tale,  and you realize you’ve only fluffed his ego more, “So he was unconscious. Well I couldn’t just leave him there, ‘poor guy was only a trainee. So I took him along. It did slow me down, but,” He heaves a disgusting, gaudy, fake sigh, “It was worth it to send him back home to his mama.”
You taste a hint of blood where you’ve apparently chewed through your lip. You let it go and hope nothing escapes your mouth. It would be a shame to stain the pages of your novel red.
You’re trying very hard not to pay attention to Jake and Danica where he’s engaged her in a staring contest. Well, you suppose it’s not much of a contest that she can win: the point is that you’re losing. Jake’s showing off his impressive build, still running his mouth with every vaguely self-complementary anecdote he can embellish, and Danica is taking the bait, which means that your rampant attempts to cool Jake’s ego have failed. 
You let the warm, borderline-hot water sink into your skin and simmer alongside the building irritation that threatens to blow beneath the surface. You’re tired. This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation for you- or, if not relaxing, a good way to blow off steam. You were supposed to be bent in half up against the shower wall by now, not bending the pages of your book with the strong grip you’ve cemented onto them while you mediate Jake’s ego and the willingness of so many women to accommodate it. 
Part of you wants to let loose and have fun- not with Jake, of course. Never with Jake. But part of you wants to act rationally, forget the constant rivalry between you two and let him shack up with whoever will show him her tits first. But the other part of you, the one that cheers every time he places second in a show of skill, wants to knock him down a peg. It’s why you’re so persistently humbling him- or, trying to, at least. Something about him putting on this cocky persona- erasing all human emotion to make way for pure sleaze puts you on edge, and you pity the fool who believes it.
You can’t tell if Danica’s that fool yet, because she’s turned back to her book with a smile, but to her credit she doesn’t ogle him while he’s swimming. It would be easy to- he’s all tanned muscle and gestures that show off just the right curve or vein. He knows how to preen, but Danica seems to be minding her own business. That makes it easier for you to read your own novel; you don’t feel like you have to keep an eye out for her anymore.
You’re not sure whether it’s a love for the act or a wordless competition to outswim the other that keeps Jake and Daniel occupied with lapping the pool for so long, but as more and more people filter out of their rooms and onto the deck, there’s not much room for recreation anymore.
“Are you done?” You ask Danica, peering over at her after someone unknowingly sends a wave of water straight for you both, narrowly avoiding soaking your novels.
“I think I’m done.” She nods sheepishly, rushing to stand and keep her book dry, “Should we run away before the men notice we’re leaving?”
“Excellent plan,” You laugh, but you can practically feel Jake’s eagle eye upon you as you race for your towel, leaving soaked footprints behind on the wooden deck, “We should go get some pizza. They’re making more now that it’s a little busier out here.”
“You shouldn’t stare like that.” Daniel’s irritatingly smooth voice, pitched up slightly from Jake’s and entirely free of Jake’s rugged charm, makes Jake’s lips yearn to curl into a sneer.
Jake pivots in the cold pool water to face Daniel rather unimpressed, a scoff begging to burst from his lips, “Like what?”
“Like she’s a piece of meat, or something.” Daniel’s arms are crossed, and Jake plants his feet firmly against the concrete floor of the pool.
“Oh, you’re so virtuous,” Jake drawls, his skin burning and not from the rays of sun hitting it directly, “You frenched her in an elevator, Daniel, you’ve got no room to be talking to me about class.”
“She wanted me to kiss her. She kissed me.” Daniel insists, and Jake laughs- actually laughs, a grit of his teeth and a forceful exhalation of air, “That’s different than staring at her ass while she runs away from you like you’d flip her skirt up at a drive-in movie theater.”
“Flipping skirts,” Jake laughs, sadistic grin in full force, “Daniel, I’m not that old fashioned! Please, she’s in a bathing suit that she chose, for a sex cruise that she booked, and you know what? She probably wants you to be staring at her ass in it. And you don’t seem too concerned with the other people on the deck, I’m sure a few of them are looking too. And are you worried I’m looking at Danica’s ass?”
“You’re not looking at Danica’s ass.” Daniel nearly bites his tongue in an effort to keep his voice level, “Because you’re not interested in Danica. You’re interested in Y/N and you can’t have her. She’s not yours.”
“She’s not yours, either.” Jake spits, and there’s a moment of silence where both men’s chests heave with barely-suppressed tension. Jake realizes that he’s admitted to Daniel that he has no real claim over you, but the other man doesn’t fight back against not having one of his own. But you are his, you are Jake’s, in the way you’d fallen asleep in his arms last night, in the look in your eyes when you’d stared into his own earlier, in the stain on his pajama pants.
You’d moaned his name- his name, not Daniel’s.
Someone knocks into Daniel from behind, backing right into him and nudging him slightly off balance.
“Oh!” The woman shrieks, “I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention.”
“It’s fine.” He offers her a tight smile, heading for the ladder, “Don’t worry about it.”
Jake hauls himself up out of the pool with nothing but his forearms, using his towel to dry his hair if only to show off the expanse of his chest to any who may be watching. He checks- you’re not.
“So,” Danica leans forwards into your space at the pizza counter, eyes meaningfully wide, “Tell me why he’s acting like this.”
“He always acts like this.” You scoff, and when she levels you with an unimpressed glare, you insist, “No, really! He’s just- everything is a competition to him, everything. I met his mom once, and she told me that he used to have races at the dinner table to see who could finish their food first. He kept making himself sick but as long as he’d beat his brothers he didn’t care. He always has to win, and right now, he’s competing for us.”
“No, he’s competing for you.” Danica corrects you, “Is he winning?”
“Hell no. He’s- he’s not really competing for me, not meaningfully. He just wants to say he ‘got me’, you know? That would be major bragging rights on the tarmac. But that’s exactly why I can’t give in- I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her fellow pilot! Then they wouldn’t see my achievements anymore, just my mistakes.”
“I get that.” She nods, “But how do you know he’s just gonna dump you?”
“I’ve watched him dump the whole of San Diego,” You scoff, “That’s what he does. He doesn’t do love, he’s the kind of guy who’s only ever interested in something quick and dirty.”
“Everyone does love.” Danica frowns, “Some people just start later in life than others. And I think he’s starting now. With you.”
“Love,” You laugh, and sure, it’s dramatic, but if it gets through to her, you don’t care, “A man who loves me would not have tormented me for my entire career.”
She tilts her head thoughtfully, “I think he does. Even if he doesn't act the way you think he should, even if he doesn't act the way you would, I think he does love you. I think he just loves differently. I think he's new to it. What has he done to torment you?”
You huff, grateful for the opportunity to vent, “He constantly tries one-upping me- again, he can’t lose. He just- he pokes and prods and teases me like we’re on the playground or something, and it’s non-stop. It’s not like he’s sweet most of the time and then there’s a few bouts of light teasing, it’s- it’s constant, and I can’t ever let my guard down, or I’ll lose.”
“So you’re fighting to win, too.” Her eyes narrow slightly, “Why?”
“Because. I can't be second-best, and I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her coworker. I’m not doing that.” You repeat.
“Oh," She laughs, "So you're both stubborn. You don't want to lose, either. But second-best is temporary, rankings come and go. And I understand your thing about not wanting to be known for sleeping with him, but even if you did sleep with him, the whole Navy doesn’t have to know.”
“They will, Hangman will brag. He always brags.”
“He won’t- not if he’s in love with you, not if you want him to keep it private.”
“He’s not in love with me-!”
“Four slices of Pepperoni, two cheese?” A large tray is placed between you and Danica at the counter you’re both leaning against, and it snaps the two of you out of your debate.
You turn to see one of the employees looking expectantly at you, and Danica stammers, “Uh, three cheese.”
“Sorry.” He smiles placatingly at her, scooping another slice onto the plate, “Three cheese.”
“Thank you.” You take the pepperoni pizza, leaving Danica to collect the cheese. You feel bad for walking away, even if you know she’s hot on your trail, but you feel frustratingly suffocated, like everyone is urging you to make the biggest mistake of your life and never considering why you simply can’t. She doesn’t know Jake, she hasn’t spent the last decade with him as he’s blown his way through tourist after tourist, bragging all the while. And he doesn’t understand what it would be like- even if he wasn’t looking to win, even if he did just want to try casual sex for fun, you’d never be able to escape that reputation. 
You feel like you’re going crazy, and you plop down between Jake and Daniel where they sit at opposite sides of a table, ready to stuff your face with pizza instead of dealing with any of it.
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selfloverrrrrr · 1 day ago
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Witch!Reader x Demon!Satoru. He promises to fulfill her wish in exchange for something. She wants to be seen as a human being instead of a monster, the only thing she really wants is to be loved, and unfortunately he knows that. He fulfills her wish, but in return he imprisons her in his castle and promises to give her all the love and care she deserves (but in a very dark way).
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The Ritual~
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Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physical and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Gojo, demon Gojo, witch reader, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....
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( All characters are aged up/18+)
Minors Do Not Interact
Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report
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Y/n's POV
I was born in a witch family. My mother was a witch too. So were my ancestors. I'm also a witch. I didn't know what was it when I was a kid. Is being a witch a good thing or a bad thing? I always used to ask myself. But all I knew was my mom always used to hide the fact from everyone that we all are witches.
So many years passed. I grew up. I'm an adult now. And I still don't have the answer that if being a witch is good or bad. But for me it became a curse. A curse for which my whole family got killed. The king hired to kill all the witches in his kingdom. He's such a powerful king. And that's why my family isn't with me now.
We all were unaware that they were attacking us. It was the middle of the night. I saw them kill everyone in front of my eyes. I ran away from there. But they saw me. I ran all I could. And for god's blessings they couldn't find me. Now I made a small hut in the forest.
All time fear attacks me that they will find me and kill me too. I can't live like this. I need to find a way where I can live like normal people. So I started learning witches techniques. Maybe any of them will help me? I started reading the books of my ancestors.
I started learning many magics. But none of them are for what I was trying to find. I never did witch activities before. I started searching in all those books. Maybe, just maybe something that will make me like the other normal people and I can live a normal life just like them?
I searched all I could. But nothing was related this. But then I found something. A book which is sealed. I looked at it. It was the last hope. I opened the seal. It was too old. Am I even gonna find anything from here? I opened the book anyways. After some time of reading what I found can actually help me. The things written in the book are:
"He got sealed. After all those trying, we all witches are successful. We sealed him. He, the strongest demon. He got birthed and from that day it was all the witch's job to end him. Though its not possible to kill him. He's too powerful. We all were also shocked that we got him sealed. He was birthed to destroy the world. He wants to rule it. He has destroyed too many places. He has killed too many people. And after doing rituals we managed to seal him. That demon, that monster's name is:
Gojo Satoru"
I kept turning the pages and the last page got my attention.......
Process to unseal Gojo Satoru
He'll fulfill your wish
My heart started beating wildly. Should I do it? It is mentioned that he is too dangerous. But he'll fulfill my wish. I don't have anything in my life. Does it even matter if I risk it? If I don't do it people are gonna try to kill me all the time. Then I should take a risk. I have to go to the place mentioned in the book.
The place mentioned in the book is the old burnt castle at the end of the forest. I've seen that castle from the young age. Everyone told me to stay away from there. But they never told me the story behind it. Today I got to know about the real story behind it.
The ritual needs to be done at night. So I collected all the things that were needed in the ritual that day. And I went there the next night. I wore a hooded dress so that no one could recognise me. And I was lucky that there weren't any people there. I quickly made my way inside the old castle with a candle in my hand.
I entered the castle. It was huge. There's dust everywhere. And the castle is burnt also. It made me curious about what happened here? I kept walking. The huge stairs from the middle. I have to go to the top room of this castle. As in the book there's a throne room which is the ritual room. I went up there.
I pushed the door open and my mouth was wide open by the beauty of the throne room. I wondered what it looked like when it wasn't burnt. I went towards the throne. I don't have enough time to do the ritual. I quickly set up what was written in the book. Then lit up all the candles. Then started doing the ritual. My heart was thumping against my chest.
As I completed the spell. The wind started flowing heavily. Suddenly all the candles were extinguished together. Then the wind stopped flowing. And all of a sudden all the candles lit up together again. Then I saw a tall human figure sitting on the throne.
He has a huge masculine body. He's tall, has handsome sharp features, white hair, white eyelashes and those gorgeous blue eyes. He looks exactly the same said in the book. He's wearing all black royal clothes. He turned his head on both sides and the cracking sound echoed through the room. Then he looked at me.
Can that beautiful person be that dangerous? I asked myself. "So you're the one who unsealed me?" He spoke. I have to respect him. "Yes, my lord" I replied looking at the ground. "Hmmmmm.....well, this place is still burnt and dusty everywhere.... and I don't like my castle to lose its beauty" he said and threw a hand beside him.
A blue ray came out of his hand. And all of a sudden the castle turned all new. Not burnt anymore neither dust anywhere. I was already gorgeous and now it has become more gorgeous. A huge black gorgeous castle. "Hmm.....so what's the reason you unsealed me?" He asked.
"my lord, I'm a witch.... people of the king are killing all the witches. They killed my family too. I don't wanna live like this. I was to live like normal people. I want everyone to think of me like normal people. I want to be loved." I replied. And then there was silence. I could feel him staring at me.
"So you don't wanna be a witch any more and want to be loved right?"he asked. "... yes. My lord" I replied. He smirked. "Okay....done" he said swiping his finger in the air. My eyes widened in hope that now I can live like normal people. I looked at my hand and the witch sign was gone.
That means..... that means I'm not a witch anymore? I was so happy. "T-thank you... thank you, my lord" I said with a smile on my face. I stood up. I said "I should go now-" he didn't let me finish "No" he said. It almost seemed like an order. I dared to look at him. And there was a sinister smirk on his face.
"I didn't give you permission to leave" he said and went up from the throne. And within a blink I was standing in front of me. I got frightened and took a step back with a gasp. "You scared?" He asked with a smirk. I didn't reply. "Are you?" He asked again tilting his head. ".... N-No" I replied.
"okay.... then come with me... let me show you something" I said with a grin offering a hand to me. I have to accept his hand and so I did. And within a blink we both were standing in front of the window. How fast is he? "Look at the kingdom. I own this. I'm gonna burn this place" he said. Now he was definitely terrifying me.
He placed a hand on my waist and pulled me against him. Now this is getting too uncomfortable. "And you'll be watching them die with me from here. And I'll kill them first who killed your family" he said. What does that mean?! "M-my lord I should go now" I said. "And I already said no" he said looking at me.
"you want to be loved, right?..... you'll be living here in my castle with me.... and I'll give you all the love you need" he whispered in my ear. My eyes widened. Oh no no no. This is not what I want. He wants to kidnap me in his castle?! Shit I don't have my powers anymore either. What should I do now?!
"what happened?" He asked and nuzzled his face on my neck. I took a deep breath and pushed him. Then ran all I could. I was running through the corridor and bumped into someone. Of course it's none other than Gojo Satoru. I don't have any ways now. I automatically started crying.
He smirked. "Didn't thought someone has the bravery to disobey me" he said and started walking towards me and I started walking backwards. "P-Please let me go I don't want that life" I cried. "Oh darling you don't know how much I love to see people crying. And for your life I'm the one have the power to decide how you'll live" he said.
Then he clapped his hand and we both were standing in a.... BEDROOM?! He grabbed my hand and pulled me against him. "Now tell me what you were saying?" He asked. "P-Please....let go... P-Please" I said. "Let you go? But didn't you wish to be loved? I'm giving you the love you deserve" he said while grabbing my ass and squeezing it.
I yelped at that. "P-Please I don't want to stay her-" before I could even complete my sentence he threw me on the bed and claimed on me. I screamed so loudly out of fear when threw me on the bed. "Didn't you say you're not scared? That seems like a lie now" he said and took off a strand of hair out of my face.
"it's been years since I was sealed. Never thought I'll get this gorgeous gift as soon as I get unsealed " he said with a smirk and pressed his lips on mine. I tried to push his chest but he grabbed my hands and held them beside my head while kissing me aggressively. He pushed his tongue inside my mouth.
I was shaking my head in protest but he didn't stop. When he stopped he immediately grabbed the top of my dress and tore it off. How strong is he??? He tore off a dress with Corset with his hands?! I almost screamed when he did. I covered myself and tried to crawl up.
He grabbed my hair and made me look at him. "Did I say to cover yourself???" He asked. His eyes shined. Tears falling down from my eyes. He smirked and licked my neck with his long tongue. I was shaking from fear. "You know seeing you scared makes me more turned on" he whispered.
I couldn't breathe. He grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head. My boobs bounced out. He looked at those with lust in his eyes. His eyes shined in the dim light. He didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensation. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even affect him. "M-my lord stopppp" I screamed but he didn't stop. "It's Satoru, darling.... I won't kill you if you call me Satoru"
Then he took off my pantie. He looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit and whispered " so wet. You naughty little slut, getting wet for me huh?". Then he licked my pussy. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pants.
His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. "Look... this is what you have done to me..." he said while stroking his dick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " S-Satoru no no no... P-please no... s-stop" I begged and called him Satoru as he said so maybe he listens to me? but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I screamed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thrusting in and out roughly. I was through my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he liked it so much. His thrust became harder and harder.
I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " you know.... you're the first witch I love....I always hated all the witches.... never seen such a gorgeous witch like you.... f-fuck what great present I got as soon as I got unsealed" he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thrusts I came. He was still thrusting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh... I don't want this ..." I moaned. "Do you still think you can make me stop?" He said with a smirk. I dig my nails more deeper into his back as he Marked me. He continued thrusting. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. He fell beside me on the bed.
"You need to be loved? I'll give you all the love you deserve..... now spread your legs again.... I'm not done yet.... I was sealed for over 500 years.... you don't expect me to stop right now, do you?" He said and chuckled demonicly.
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evilauthor · 2 days ago
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I shamed a dude with this scene from the books when I was a kid.
Early 2000s, first Lord of the Rings movie had come out, but before the Two Towers. My family had gone to the Carolina Renaissance Faire with one of my mom's army buddies. After the faire shut down for the day, we stopped at the mall. There was a table top gaming store that sold D&D stuff and they had a Lord of the Rings display in the window, so I wanted to go in.
Mom was indulgent.
Inside, I was getting annoyed because they didn't have any good Lord of the Ring sets. They didn't have any set that was the entire Fellowship, but they had four different box sets that had multiple characters bundled together...the only way to get everyone was if you bought three of the bundled sets. Legolas was only in one set, so if you bought all three sets, you'd have several duplicates. However, they did have a few solo characters. I did the math in my head and determined that the most cost effective option was to get two sets and buy Legolas by himself. If I got the right two sets, I'd have minimal duplicates while getting everyone. However, I couldn't find Legolas by himself in the solo boxes.
A cashier noticed me standing in front of the display too long, so he came up to ask if I needed help. "Do you have any solo boxes of just Legolas?"
"Let me guess, you want Legolas because 'he's so pretty'?" Said in a mock pitched voice. Very annoying and insulting to little tween Evil. He was implying I only wanted Legolas because Orlando Bloom was hot and not because they didn't have a single option for buying the full fellowship!
"No. I want Legolas because he went off to fetch the sun."
The my mother...my dear sweet mother...comes up behind the guy. "My daughter loves the Lord of the Rings. She's read the entire series five times. Her dad has first editions."
The cashier sputtered a bit and I stomped out of the store without getting any of the sets.
It's so many years later and I still think about it...and I wish I'd bought the sets. I wouldn't get interested in D&D until much later, but the figures back then were die-cast metal.
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That time Legolas and Gandalf had a sass battle on the slopes of Caradhras.
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