#i genuinely cannot tell what tone this is meant as

[definitelymanitoba]

Medford here -- just wanted to say you seem pretty cool, I guess. Just reblogged your random post from the countryverse community even though it's kind of pitiful. But I guess that'll do. And it's not like I'm looking to be your friend or anything! SO DON'T GET THE WRONG IDEA.

-- @medford-oregoppenheimer

….how do i respond to this/gen

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (again, if you look extra closely), a lot of cussing (are we still surprised)

masterlist | part 1 (although ig this makes sense on its own), part 3 (i didn't plan this), part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

“What.”

It’s less of a question and more of a statement—a statement sputtered in the typically demanding way characteristic of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki who happens to be your boss for a good (debatable) three and a half years now, who you also have to spend overtime with until who knows what time to discuss what’s become rocky employee relations in the Ground Riot agency.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion or irrational annoyance—both, really—before you quickly school your expression into a neutral one. You riffle through the documents rather absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze before shooting back with: “What do you mean what?”

“I meant,” he leans back on his office chair that you know he singlehandedly picked out for its superior ergonomic design because he’s meticulous like that, “what the fuck is wrong with your face.”

“Excuse me?”

Your retort is laced with more indignant anger than intended, but at this point in the night, you cannot for the life of you bring yourself to care about your tone. It’s been a long day, and you weren’t about to let your stupid boss make fun of your appearance, of all things.

Bakugou probably senses the significant change in your demeanor, because his eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly before he sits up and opens his mouth to explain himself.

“You’ve been looking like you accidentally drank spoiled milk for the past hour and the shit aftertaste isn’t going away.” He haughtily shakes his head, and it takes everything in you not to jump him and choke your boss.

To your disdain, however, he continues.

“It’s either you spit it out or I’m going to have to force you to tell me what’s wrong.”

You gape at him. Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

As quickly as you can, however, you attempt to regain your bearings and at least try to seem nonchalant, clearing your throat as unbothered as possible to top it all off. “Well, working overtime to iron out office squabbles isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing Friday night, thank you very much.”

He scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You almost get whiplash from how quickly you look at him. His brazen rudeness—which, right now, is worse than usual which is saying something, mind you—renders you incapable of saying anything aside from another winded: “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Miss me with that bullshit, dumbass.”

You feel yourself heat up in irritation. “I thought I told you to stop calling me dumbass.”

“You’d rather I call you princess?”

At that, you break eye contact despite yourself, choosing to stare at his forehead instead. It’s still unnerving—looking at any part of his body, really—but it’s better than looking at him squarely and witnessing the smirk you know has taken over his unfairly handsome features.

Your voice is small, to your chagrin, when you reply. “That’s actually a lot worse.”

The man dares to bark out a laugh.

You continue to metaphorically choke him in your head.

“Okay then, dumbass,” he emphasizes the nickname and you are about 99% sure a pained expression is dancing across your face because Bakugou is observing you with even more amusement before his features settle into a look of seriousness.

“As I was saying before you missed the point entirely—I highly doubt you’re this bothered because of fucking overtime,” he eyes you cautiously before pressing on. “Something’s wrong.”

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion of the week filled with workplace conflict, or the crushing news you received this morning in the mail, or the very fact that Bakugou, despite his roughness and the annoyingly persistent way he’s been poking at your mood like it’s an itchy scab, is looking at you with genuine concern—but you end up doing it.

You give in.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you even get the chance to deny them permission to, and at the sight of them Bakugou sits up even straighter in alarm—and you don’t know what comes over you because you start laughing so hard, your hand shoots up to your stomach in an attempt to keep it from cramping.

“Oi.”

The expression on his face is so unbelievably baffled that you only end up cackling to yourself more.

It takes a few more minutes before the sillies are fully flushed out of your system and really, it only took you a glance at Bakugou to realize you probably looked demented just now.

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes and muster enough courage to flash him a genuine smile.

To your delight, he flashes you one right back, albeit tentatively—one that is boyish and charming under the rather dim lights of his corner office.

Although he seemingly reboots to his default state because it’s immediately replaced by a frown and followed by: “You’re so weird, you know that?”

You snort and, before you can stop yourself: “Not as weird as my ex.”

At that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes—he visibly stiffens in his seat and his eyebrows furrow in what you believe is confusion at the sudden mention of your past lover.

Bakugou says nothing, however, and so you take that as a sign to continue.

“Remember that meeting we had last March with Chef Asahi about our collaboration with his restaurant where I was late and you gave me shit for it? And when you asked I told you it was because I just got dumped over the phone?”

He gives you a curt nod, lips tight.

“Well,” you chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed at your upcoming revelation, “I just found out that that ex is getting married in two months, and I’m invited.”

Neither of you says anything for the next—what feels like—hour.

Until Bakugou takes a sharp inhale, leans forward on his desk, and stares you down straight in the eyes: “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

He scowls at you like you’ve got a pea for a brain. “Don’t make me say it twice, dumbass.”

You frown at his hostility, your own bewilderment chipping away at your already thinning patience. “You’re not saying anything.”

Bakugou sighs, and he looks like what he is about to say next physically pains him.

“I’ll be your fucking date to the wedding.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik

special shoutout to @he3v4n for reading the prequel to this and following thereafter--inadvertently making me check out past writing and get inspired to write this <3

[aninipanin1]

CUPID'S ARROW HIT

100 Followers Special!

Part 1, Part 2 Coming Soon

Cupid's arrow hit ISAGI YOICHI in a normal and supposed miscellaneous interaction. It was supposed to be another day in Blue Lock, one filled with training and the usual schedule, but unbeknownst to his past self, it will become an unforgettable day. A day where he saw you struggling, the schedule and pressure of being the manager of more than 200 players, all with differing personalities, playstyles, and characteristics, meaning, different approaches, perspective, and techniques. Yet, you were not phased. In fact, you seemed to enjoy it, as evident by the sparkle in your eyes that was vacant of any regrets or tiredness, especially when you interacted with the players, did chores and gave tips to them. It was like you loved the challenge and the fact that you can help him and the others. He confirmed this every time he sees the beautiful and genuine smile on your face when he and anyone else succeeds, a showing of happiness that others are succeeding because of you with no trace of even taking any credit even if you deserved it.

"You seem to enjoy the tons of work given to you, Y/n-chan."

"It isn't that I enjoy work. I enjoy it because I get to help the people whom I love."

"...Thanks. I- No, I meant...we love you too. As long as it continues, making you happy and not stressed.

Timeline: First Selection

Cupid's arrow hit BACHIRA MEGURU the moment you looked at him. It was not love at first sight, far from it. What he meant is when you first looked at him with your real eyes, with the real emotions and experience all embedded in your irises, the eyes without faux overpolitedness and professionalism. Instead, you allowed the eyes of an egoist, a dreamer, and a worker to finally take its place as you stood in front of him in that field as he did a solo practice. Your eyes, your expression, the way you quipped your mouth in thought, it all was like a beautiful story to him, a spectacle that should only be seen by those who would appreciate your hidden and true self. He always believed in the saying: "The eyes are the windows to the soul," and when he saw yours, never did he believe he will ever see a soul as beautiful and exhilirating as yours. It glowed, almost like it reflected the sun itself, full of hidden fire that you sadly cannot see yourself, which never fails to disappoint the blonde. If only you can see your own beauty, there would be many maybes that would be answered and fulfilled.

"So, you believe your ego can be achieved by helping us succeed?"

"Uhuh. I believe that someone like me is more fitting of being the mechanic than the engine."

"I like that! Did anyone ever tell you that you have the prettiest eyes ever, Y/n-chan?"

Timeline: First Selection

Cupid's arrow hit CHIGIRI HYOMA when he got a whole box to himself just for his knee care. It was not that you gave it to him because he did ask for it. However, he did remember the tone and words he used to ask you for one was not the most ideal or polite way to ask for a favour. He knew deep down that he had a not so desirable personality. He was sassy, sarcastic, and blunt to a fault, characteristics that led to a lot of people not really liking him in the past years. But, he was not a monster! He did feel really bad for how he said what he said, probably because he just woke up and did not have his breakfast at that time yet, but he knew it was no excuse. But, to his surprise, you did not seem to be offended. Quite the opposite, you were beaming the moment you gave him the box and excitedly showed him everything that was in the said box. Your patience and kindness made his heart beat up a little faster than usual.

"And then I added a few more cooling packs just in case...and um that's all!"

"You really outdid yourself, huh? Sorry, I was being a little rude when I asked you for this."

"Rude? You were..?"

"Pfft- hahahaha, you're the most clueless person I know when it comes to tones and emotions, Y/n-chan. That's why I think being with you is really calming and pleasant, you know? You rarely stress yourself over something, it's amazing."

Timeline: Second Selection (Still with Kunigami and Reo)

Cupid's arrow hit KUNIGAMI RENSUKE the moment he saw you happily and cutely eating and enjoying your lunch time. It was a rather tame and boring display if you asked any other person. But, in his eyes, it was quite adorably how your cheeks inflated to accommodate the food you kept inserting in your mouth. It showed him a much more vulnerable side to your usual professional and intellectual approach to your work around them and the facility. It also eases his chest up when he sees you rest and have time for yourself, he loves your help and is always thankful for it, but he also knew how important it is to have time for oneself to rest and rethink about everything. Besides, cozy and comfortable you is quite adorable in his eyes, especially when you are all small and swallowed up in your seat, mindlessly eating in a ball, hugging your legs.

"Never change, Y/n-chan."

"Huh? What are you talking about, Kunigami-san?"

"Heh, I meant, to not change your habits. Youre really cute this way, Y/n-chan."

"Hmm...I'll take that as a compliment I guess."

Timeline: First Selection

Cupid's arrow hit BAROU SHOEI the moment you offered to help him clean up the room, his teammates left behind (ahem Nagi and Chigiri ahem). It was not just because he deemed your cleaning skills worthy or impressive (it was one of the reasons, yes), but the main reason was definitely the calm look on your face as you picked up the dirty socks and scattered shoes around the room. Your face screamed the opposite of annoyance, an expression he expected but was proven wrong. Most don't really like the notion of cleaning up others' mess, but your patience and thoughtfulness definitely made him raise an eyebrow. After all, if he was in your position, having to take care of guys your age who could not even care for their own space, he would be ready to throw all their things at their faces. But, he was not you, and he was a little curious about what goes inside your mind for you to act the way you do.

"You're too patient. Let them clean the mess they made."

"It's nothing, Barou-san. Besides, I know you all are tired from training, this is the least I can do."

"Tsk, you're too kind. People are going to use that, you know?"

"Hmm, I'd let them be. Its their loss and conscience when they decide to use my goodwill. I'm the one who'll get the points for staying kind anyway."

"...Whatever." (He was secretly blown away by your answer, though)

Second Selection (4 man team with Isagi, Chigiri and Nagi)

Cupid's arrow hit NIKO IKKI when the barriers of the awkward stage finally let itself down between the two of you, creating moments where you two would talk for hours on end when it came to similar likes and dislikes. The moment you started to talk about his favourite mangas or praise all his favourite ice cream flavours, Niko was convinced you were his soulmate of sort. Cringy, most would say, but to him, it was more than natural, like it was meant to be. And just as he thought that you could not win his heart even more, you had the audacity to comment that you found his messy bangs and eyes adorable when you managed to get a peek of them? The eyes he was insecure about and thought too intense due to him listening and taking in the words from his bully from the past? Those eyes...?

"I have pretty eyes? Me...?"

"Yeah! Why do you sound unsure?"

"Well, because it's really ugl- nevermind...its nothing."

2 week break after the U-20 match

Cupid's arrow hit NAGI SEISHIRO in such a mundane yet intimate moment, a window in time where domesticity felt something akin that of a melancholic nostalgia as he looked at you, watching your cute and miniscule frustration at a simple game that you were currently playing on his switch. The current look of concentration mixed with frustration, a look that he had not seen on your face before, made the organ in his chest agitated. Why? Was it because of the beautiful contrast the lighting of the gadget gave to your face, making you look like a celestial being? Or maybe even the way you trusted him enough to lay your weight on his arm and shoulder as your full attention was on the game? He did not care. He thought it was too much of a hassle to even find the reason. After all, he liked the feeling, so the meaning was pretty much irrelevant, right?

"Nagi-san, how do you do this level?"

"..."

"Nagi-san?"

"...Huh? What did you say?"

2 week break after the U-20 Match

Cupid's arrow hit MIKAGE REO more and more every time he hears or sees your responsible and patient personality shine. Yes, you were indeed beautiful, but so were other girls, but with your mix of kindness, beauty, intelligence, and the ay you carried your responsibilities both professionally and emotionally was the reason why his head will turn your way again and again with no fail. Specifically, your kindness. It was a different type of kindness, one that he had never felt before due to how its roots are just your innocent desire to help everyone around you, with nothing in return. In this dog-eat-dog world, nothing is for free anymore. It is either you pay or return the favour, which was fair, but you, your presence, and gentleness were unconditional which was a breath of fresh air, especially towards someone like him who was used to conditionings.

"Y/n-chan! Let me help you with that!"

"Eh? It's fine Mikage-san-"

"I insist, for once, let me repay your kindness, even if it's unconditional."

Neo Egoist League

Cupid's arrow hit ITOSHI RIN the moment you approached him after the long break of the players from the facility, expressing to him that you found his play in the end of the U-20 match his most mesmerising play compared to his usual elegant ones. That you loved his original playstyle, his original ego, much more beautiful, much more him, like he was free from the clutches of anything in the world. He did not understand it. His brother looked at him in that certain moment like he was a disgusting monster, to which he did not care, but he did believe that. He was ready to play the villain as long as he got to beat his rivals. However, you embraced that monstrosity, that horrific, mangled ego of his just because it was him, compared to his once elegant playstyle that tried to copy his elder brother's ways. And for once, the princess embraced the big, bad, and ugly monster instead of the powerful hero, finding its fangs and horns beautiful.

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"I know its disgusting. You don't have to hide it, I don't care if you find it that. Victory is all that matters to me anyways."

"No. It's not disgusting. To me, it's your statement to the world that you're not Itoshi Sae's little brother, but Itoshi Rin. It's who you are, Rin-san, and whoever finds it hideous or disgusting is boring for wanting someone to just fit in their box of expectations."

Neo-Egoist League.

Cupid's arrow hit ITOSHI SAE in one normal, albeit chilly Thursday evening in Spain. He just got home from his practice as he cosied up on his bed, typing away on his phone, eyes waiting patiently for you to send a reply on each question and input he asked. He had friends before, even as a young kid, although scarce, he was not exactly a loner. However, due to his cold responses and dry knowledge about anything other than football made him a victim of being the odd one out in his friend group most of the time, with all of his so-called 'friends' not putting any effort to include or even try to understand what he says or does, just continuing on with whatever they were saying or doing, making it feel like a secret code where he was the only not included in. To which the redhead did not have any problem with, used to being alone and independent, but to see you actively try to understand his points of view and to even teach him the silliest things you knew just so he would not be lost in whatever conversations you both may have made his cold heart feel somewhat warmer, especially in the middle of the cold night he was currently feeling.

"Are you done explaining what that guy's power is now? You didn't have to type out a whole 500 word essay for me to understand who he is."

"Sorry, Sae-san T_T, but now that you know, I can continue my story!"

"Whatever. Go on."

Neo-Egoist League

Had to cut it in half since there are like 20 plus of them I will write but then my phone started lagging lmao, next part wil be up soon! Thank you again for more than 100 followers!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[wheatbreadfuckyeah]

Oh, To Capture You In pages

[Viktor X Reader]

—–‐–——–‐–——–‐–——–‐–—

Okay so like im obesessed w him help.

Tell me if I capture him well, oki bye

—–‐–——–‐–——–‐–——–‐–—

"I draw you a lot," I admit, my voice barely audible as I snap my notebook shut. The thought of showing him feels like exposing some deep secret I hadn’t meant to share.

Viktor raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Do you now?" he asks, his tone laced with mild amusement, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in his amber eyes. "I cannot imagine what about me you find so... compelling."

There’s an edge of self-deprecation to his words, but it doesn’t quite hide the spark of genuine interest. He pauses, tilting his head slightly. "Would you indulge me? Let me see?" His voice is calm, but the intent behind it is unmistakable—he’s intrigued, perhaps more than he wants to let on.

I hesitate, fingers tightening around the notebook. For a moment, I consider refusing, but his gaze holds me fast. With a quiet sigh, I open it and hand it over, bracing myself for whatever he might say.

Viktor takes it carefully, his long fingers brushing against mine as he flips open the cover. At first, his expression remains impassive, the analytical focus he always wears when working settling over his features. But as he turns each page, that mask begins to crack. His smirk fades into something quieter, more thoughtful, and his brow furrows slightly, as though he’s examining more than just the drawings.

"You’ve been busy," he says finally, his tone dry but tinged with something softer. His fingers linger on a sketch of him hunched over his workbench, his posture weary but determined. "You’ve captured my good side," he adds, the faintest glimmer of humor returning to his voice.

I shrug, my heart hammering in my chest. "You're... interesting to draw," I mutter, struggling to meet his gaze.

"Interesting," he repeats, his smirk deepening. "That’s a diplomatic way of saying I look peculiar, no?" He glances up at me, his amber eyes gleaming with amusement, but the warmth there catches me off guard. "Though I must admit, you've done something remarkable here." His tone shifts, becoming quieter, more introspective. "You’ve seen something in me. More than I would expect anyone to notice."

I fidget under his gaze, unsure how to respond. Viktor, ever perceptive, notices. "You don’t have to be nervous," he says, his voice softer now, though his smirk hasn’t entirely faded. "It is... flattering, in its own way." He hesitates, looking back at the sketches, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps I should start paying more attention to how I appear. Though I doubt I’ll ever see myself as clearly as you do."

For a moment, I see the mask drop entirely—a glimpse of vulnerability beneath his sharp wit and unshakable resolve. It’s fleeting, gone as quickly as it appeared, but it lingers in the way he handles the notebook with unexpected care, as though the sketches are more than mere drawings to him.

[shy-writer-999]

I was excited to find your Sanji fic, but I saw that your blog is not a safe place for Jews. More than 80% of Jews identify as Zionists. That’s 12 million people. A Jew is telling you that by putting ‘Zionist not welcome’ in your bio is the same as telling 12 out of 15 million Jews they aren’t to allowed to enjoy your writing. It is your art and your blog. That is your right. I just wanted to make you aware of the weight of what your words truly mean: You are actively discriminating against Jews—not just ‘people who support Israel’. My hope is that this message is received in good faith and not as an attack. I hope to enjoy the Sanji fic fully without violating either of our boundaries. If I find myself block then I have my answer. Thank you

oh BROTHER. this blog is purely for entertainment and creativity and i seriously don't feel like addressing this nor will i be engaging with it after this. for my rant, see below! sorry to everyone whose dashboard this comes across. as you can see from the egregious length of my response, this struck a nerve.

i appreciate the tone of your message and it seems like you genuinely meant it with patience and kindness. my response is not meant with either. my blog is a safe space for jewish people. however, as far as zionism is concerned, i unequivocally cannot tolerate this ideology. furthermore, i see your equation of judaism with zionism as one that is dangerous, lazy, and singularizing; you should take great caution in aiding the “devolution of Judaism from a set of religious beliefs into a national political ideology” (from judith butler’s “Is Judaism Zionism?”). i see nothing appealing about a national political ideology of settler colonialism, alt-right nationalism, and apartheid.

let's just establish some terra firma from which to work with here—israel is a state, judaism is a religion, and zionism is an ideology. the ideology of zionism is the ideology of israel as a state (since its inception and certainly now, with the likud at the helm). by conflating zionism with judaism, you're singularizing millions and millions of people into one set of beliefs. you're doing a disservice to your religion, and this homogenizing is dangerous and toxic. there are many jewish people who agree with me and who recognize the Zionist ideology for what it is; for two key examples see the organization jewish voice for peace as well as many hasidic people who have spoken against the netanyahu administration (yes, even in Israel).

also, rhetoric 101 - your statistic, '80% of jews', is an argument from authority, a specific type of logical fallacy. whatever you’re referencing (you haven’t named a source) is, apparently, just out there in the ether. what you mean is that 80% of jews that were surveyed in whatever study you're referencing are zionists. but this statistic is flawed—there is no a way to survey 100% of jews worldwide and such a study has not happened. so no, it is not 12 out of 15 million people who are pro zionism. i have no doubt the poll you’re referencing was conducted on less than one million people based in, gee, probably north america and israel. and that's not to speak on who provided the funding.

again, i assert that any nation that aspires to be an ethno-state, and any nation that instantiates and perpetuates apartheid, is a genocidal state. read the writings of theodor herzl and ben gurion and you will be surprised at how openly and proudly they propound that zionism is a settler colonial project.

in the words of aimé césaire: “What am I driving at? At this idea: that no one colonizes innocently, that no one colonizes with impunity either; that a nation which colonizes, that a civilization which justifies colonization— and therefore force— is already a sick civilization, a civilization which is morally diseased...” (discourse on colonialism). Israel is a morally diseased nation—diseased with a nationalistic, fascist, settler-colonist ideology (sound familiar? i’m looking at you, america!). not only this, but the citizenship parameters from which Israel was founded are pervasively antidemocratic and are bar for bar with south africa’s apartheid policies (Israel has pass laws too, crazy coincidence!). who else to better represent this ideology than Netanyahu and Donald Trump? are they buddy-buddy enough for your liking? perhaps the allies of your ideology should raise some eyebrows on your end.

i've fought for the palestinian cause for years. i lived in the middle east and i speak arabic. i have a degree in intl relations with a geographic focus on MENA and nuclear warfare. i'm not the one to lecture about this. i am, at an academic and professional level, an active researcher of the third reich and totalitarianism. i know the work of hannah arendt like the back of my hand (a jew who was, at the same time, a Zionist and not a Zionist, outcast from her communities for her dissent). 😫 please take your half-baked criticisms of my political stances elsewhere. go read the wretched of the earth by frantz fanon or orientalism by edward said.

as for the sanji fic - i truly don't care whether you read it or not. i can't physically stop you from doing so. if you have a problem just walk away from the computer. if you come back to my inbox, i will block you because i've had enough painfully predictable disagreements with zionists in my life.

now let me direct you to my favorite poems by Refaat Alareer, a palestinian poet and writer who the IDF murdered in December of 2023 (in an airstrike, an indiscriminate act of killing civilians, an internationally recognized war crime):

:أيضا كلمات من محمود درويش

وأقولُ لِنَفْسي: سِيَطْلَعُ من عَتْمتي قمر

on that note, i'm never addressing this again and this account will be purely fanfic from here on out.

من النهر إلى البحر، فلسطين ستكون حرة

[indiaalphawhiskey]

“Perhaps that was another part of your planned… entrapment.”

Colin Bridgerton could live to be eight-and-ninety, and those words would forever be the nine he was most ashamed of. He had not known a moment’s peace since uttering them, his bones heavy with grief and regret as the words circled his memory, again, and again, and again.

Worse still had been Penelope’s response — soft and unbearably genuine; watery and honest. “I did not mean to entrap you, Colin. I love you.”

I love you.

He held onto that part of the memory fiercely, mind focused on her singular mercy, the use of present tense — love, not loved — fervently hoping it would drown out the rest. That it would make him forget the feel of her fingers, warm against his own, slipping the frigid metal of her betrothal ring back into his palm; forget the way he felt his heart split in two immediately, the crisp sound of its cracking masked only by the angry clack of his boots as he stormed after her, livid and ludicrously in love, because how very dare she?

How dare she think to leave him, as though that were even a possibility for two people whose souls were so deeply intertwined?

He said as much, though admittedly, not quite as well.

“Penelope,” he whispered the warning into her hair as he caught up to her at the bottom of the staircase. His fingers curled around her elbow, just firm enough to keep her in place. Gently, he spun her to face him, and implored seriously, “you cannot leave.”

Me, was what he meant. You cannot leave me.

Even the thought of it made the air leave his lungs, so he pushed it away, and chose instead to say, “the banns have been read.”

She scoffed in a way that was so easy, he felt another shard of his heart come loose. “As though we are the first pair to ever call off a wedding. Was not Miss Edwina already at the head of the altar? If anything, we are conscientiously early in our decision.”

‘Our decision’. Of all the insults. As if Colin would ever permit such foolish thinking as this, let alone contribute to it.

He narrowed his eyes at this sudden display of hardness he did not recognize in her. “We have been intimate,” he reminded her then — determined that she understand just exactly how inevitable they were.

He had uttered the very same excuse not five minutes prior, and yet this time, instead of her earlier sweet sorrow, he was met with a startling flash of anger, the blue of her eyes thunderous.

“No one need know that if you would only stop repeating it,” she hissed, quiet and angry. “Or are you to tell me you will stupidly aid in your own entrapment,” the word fell from her tongue like arsenic, heavy and poisoned, “by announcing it over and over until we are caught?”

It was infuriating how truly clever she was.

No matter, he was clever, too. Her soul’s perfect match.

“And if you are with child?” He snapped.

She rolled her eyes at him, derisive laughter in her tone. “My courses have come and gone, Mr. Bridgerton, you need not worry.” Somehow, her words left him stricken, a sharp pang of something akin to disappointment hitting him squarely in the chest. She, however, was unmoved, her expression as fiery as the auburn of her hair. “It seems even my body has graciously decided to relieve you of your most honorable duty.”

It was scathing and deserved, and yet all Colin could say in return was what he hoped was true, “You lie.”

“I do not,” she said simply, a near murderous smile playing at her lips now. “Or maybe I do,” she shrugged, unbothered. “It is not as if you can lift my skirts in an attempt to ascertain the truth.”

It was all he could do not to gape at her, his beautiful, sweet, gently-bred betrothed — for she was his betrothed still, make no mistake — speaking in such a manner to him.

“Penelope,” he chastised harshly.

“Miss Featherington,” she corrected, tone sharp as she tipped her chin up towards him, eyes stony.

It was the final straw. Colin had never been so angry, and so desperately in love. His fingers fell from her elbow to her wrist, and he yanked it towards him much less gently than he should have, before slipping the ring back onto her finger with the kind of finality that brooked no more argument. He watched as it found its rightful place again, before announcing, irrefutably, “Mrs. Bridgerton.”

[outsideratheart]

Home Part 2 (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: Sorry it’s taken me so long to get this next part out but writer’s block has been a bitch.

You spent much longer mingling and people pleasing than you had hoped. The plan was to do a quick lap of the room then spend the night with you family only that didn’t happen. At first you were worried about Alexia, with her being in an environment that was unfamiliar and surrounded by people she didn’t know but every time you looked over you found her having a blast with your sister in laws. You wonder if she missed your presence but that question was quickly answered when you returned to her.

The Cruyffs; present, future and Alexia were all at the bar. She feels you beside her and just as she turns around someone pushes into you and you find yourself very close to Alexia.

“Hello you” you whisper. 

With the close proximity you could smell Alexia’s perfume. It was your perfume which she must have taken from your bag when you wasn’t looking. 

“Have you done your duties?” Alexia asks and you nods your head, a smirk tugging at your lips “then you can have another one of these?” 

She takes a shot from your brother and hands it to you. It seems that Alexia’s new found comfort was all thanks to the liqueur which you knew is drank by the bottle at events like this.

“Thank you” you take the shot without breaking eye contact.

Even after the mouthful of alcohol you cannot take your eyes off Alexia. She truly did look beautiful. This event had been the reason for so much anxiety but since touching down in the city you barely felt any of it and you knew that the reason was the woman standing in front of you.  You wasn’t feeling grief and you wasn’t consumed by the past. Alexia made you focus on the present and you cannot remember being this happy in years.

“I think we should leave” you whisper in her ear. Your hand sat dangerously low on her back.

“Why would you want to do that?” Alexia asks and you can tell that she genuinely wanted to stay.

“Because there’s things I want to do and I can’t do them here” 

“And what would that be?” Alexia again asked a question but the change in her tone told you she knew exactly what was going through your mind. She also have the confidence given the confession Liv and Mia made earlier.

“Let me take you home and I will show you” 

At this point Alexia pulls away to get a better look at you and to see if your being serious but with the hold you have on her you are able to pull her back towards you. 

“Not to interrupt your moment” Luuk says apologetically

“Again” Jordi adds earning a slap from you.

His words gain the attention of the others. No doubt them all wondering what he meant by again.

“You know the rules Y/N. The children have to stay till 11 then we are free to go” 

“2 hours” Alexia says after looking at her watch.

“Me and Jordi normally leave earlier than that and leave Luuk to deal with mum” 

You and Jordi share a look. He may technically be older but the two of you are like twins and your mother knows best than to force to be somewhere you don’t want to be. She did it before and you both caused havoc which lead to you father kicking you out of the event.

“Give it an hour then we will sneak out” 

Alexia nods her head wondering whether or not the next hour will pass by quickly or if it will drag. It wasn’t a thought that lasted long because you pulled her to the dance floor. It wasn’t like a dance floor at a club but the Cruyffs knew how to have a good time so there were plenty of guests dancing the night away. It meant you and her were able to blend in without bringing too much attention.

The idea of dancing came from an innocent place, well a mostly innocent place. You wanted to find a way to pass time but the intention soon changed when you found yourself dancing against Alexia and felt her hand on your lower abdomen. It wasn’t dirty dancing but it was enough to flood your mind with less than innocent thoughts. 

“Stop” you lean back so Alexia can hear you.

“I’m not doing anything” 

Whilst she was right, she also couldn’t be more wrong.

You could feel her breath on your neck, it was overwhelming. 

“We’re leaving. Now” you grab her hand pulling her towards the exit. You couldn’t care less what you mother would say about your early departure. The only thing you cared about was the Catalonian beauty you were about to take home.

The car ride was filled with anticipation. Very few words were exchanged and truth be told neither of you had a lot to say. Enough had been said and from the words that had been spoken, you and Alexia were able to read between the lines.

You grab Alexia’s hand the moment you are through the door as you lead her upstairs to your bedroom, to the room the two of you were to share for night. 

This wasn’t you first time nor was it Alexia’s but you weren’t in any rush.

“Will you help me, porfa?” Alexia asks. 

The brunette turns around and pulls her hair to the side to give you better access to the zip of her dress. Given that she had already taken off her heels, you k=now had the height advantage. You stood behind her but instead of undoing her dress like Alexia asked, you rest you hands on her hips and place a soft kiss to the side of her neck. 

“Don’t tease” Alexia makes no effort to move, instead relishing in the feeling that is your lips against her skin.

“As you wish” with one last kiss you turn you attention back to the zip making sure to take your time. Once you are done you tap Alexia on her hip assuming that she plans on going to the bathroom to take it off only that isn’t her plan.

“Take it off” Alexia turns to face you. 

Her eyes are dark and you see the lust growing within them. She wants what you want yet you find yourself hesitating. You hand sits on her shoulder, on the top of the material of her dress but you make no move to rid her of it. 

“What are you waiting for? Is something wrong?” 

“I’m taking in the moment in case it never happens again” 

It took a second for Alexia to recognise the look in your eye. It was a mixture of uncertainty and insecurity. She wasn’t sure if you would believe her words so she showed you how much the moment meant to her. The brunette leans forward and gently placed her lips on your own. There is no hunger or desperation. The kiss slow but filled with more passion than either of you had ever experienced before. 

With a new found confidence and a focus on the present you pull the straps down exposing her perfect body. Once the dress is on the ground you take her hand and help her out of it. 

She stands in front of you in nothing but a black lace matching set. 

“You. Are. Beautiful” you tell her, each word followed by a kiss to her lips. 

“Can I?” Alexia asks as she plays with the fabric on the front of your dress. 

It seemed only fair that you let her undress you so you nod in agreement and before you know you are both standing in nothing but your underwear. 

“I want you Y/N. I have since the first night I met you. I only wish I would have told you sooner” 

“I’m right here and I’m all yours” no words had ever been more true than these in this very moment. 

Hearing you say those words was like music to Alexia’s ears. It was a sweet melody at the beginning on the song that would be your first night together.

This woman who you had known for less than a year knew your body as if it was her own. Each movement made you want more. Every touch set your body on fire and every kiss make you believe that the love you saw in movies was possible. She knew just what to do for you to reach a new climatic height and you in suit showed her just how much you worshipped her body.

Your bodies collapsed on the bed a couple of hours later and it seemed to be perfect timing because just as Alexia laid her head on your chest, you heard the rest of the family come through the front door. Knowing that they wouldn’t come in, you made no effort to move and you tightened your hold on Alexia so that she didn’t move either.

 As you lay there the silence caused your mind to wander and to no surprise of your own it goes back over the intimacy you and Alexia had just shared.

Alexia felt the hitch in your breath. She adjusts her position and sees you staring deeply at the ceiling. 

“Hola, what’s going on in the beautiful head of yours?” 

You didn’t feel her move but you certainly wasn’t complaining about the closeness that Alexia was currently in.

“Did that—does this—“ You didn’t want to finish either sentence because you knew that there was a chance Alexia would answer in the worst way possible.

“You told me you’re mine and now I’m telling you that I’m yours Y/N, there is nobody else out there for me. That much I know is true”

“I was hoping you’d say something like that” 

The woman laid back down in your arms and remained quiet. It took a couple of minutes for you to realise it was because she had fallen asleep, clearly exhausted by the nights events.

The smile that tugs on your lips is out of your control. It seemed to be a theme with Alexia. She had all the control, all the power and held all the cards. You didn’t have a choice in falling for her, nor did you have a choice when she became the highlight of your day. Her company is the one your crave for. For Alexia you let your heart lead and it lead you to her.

[blackjackkent]

As I mentioned in my post last night, I love this cutscene between Minsc and Jaheira very much - and I also love the devnotes on it when looking through the parsed dialogue files, since they further emphasize all the things I love about these characters and their relationship.

So I have compiled all of it here because I need you all to experience the Emotions with me. XD

-----

MINSC: Jaheira... Boo is trying his best to explain, but I still do not understand your anger. (Devnote: Hesitant, a little apologetic - wants to get it but doesn't.) JAHEIRA: Do not hide behind your hamster, ranger. You do not understand, because you do not listen. We were the first to discover the cult. And if you had only waited, we might have marshalled our numbers and - MINSC: Good does not wait for evil to button up its britches - when it offers buttocks for the smacking, Minsc and Boo greet cheek with hand! (Devnote: Quietly scandalised at the notion that he should have stopped and waited for reinforcements, rather than wading into incredible odds alone.) PLAYER: That sounds like a fun evening. MINSC: It is well that Boo's innocent ears still ring from all this shouting. (Devnote: A little offended - the player is being inappropriate in front of his hamster.)

-----

JAHEIRA: You meant well, Minsc. But you exposed the city to harm. You helped the cult spread. And worse, perhaps, than any of this: You forced me to leave you behind. MINSC: But... this is where Minsc falls short of the understanding, Jaheira. (Devnote: Puzzled - a little wary to contradict Jaheira but working it out.) What else is a berserker for, if not to charge into danger ahead of his Wychlaran? (Devnote: Genuinely bemused. He would happily throw away his life to protect Jaheira, and takes it for granted that she knows this.)

-----

MINSC: Boo agrees, you are a queer kind of witch. But this city is a queer place. And Minsc, you may have noticed, is sometimes strange himself. (Devnote: Tone is "I know it's strange, I agree, but hear me out.") The titles matter not. Only this - when Minsc does as Minsc does, and charges in to make a mess: (Devnote: Brushing aside Jaheira's discomfort with the title of 'wychlaran', getting to the point of what he means.) Jaheira does as Jaheira does, and finds a way to save us all anyway. (Devnote: Absolute unshakeable faith that Jaheira can and will solve any problem.) PLAYER: Aw. That's actually kind of sweet. JAHEIRA: ...I fight alongside fools. MINSC: You hear that, Boo? We fight alongside a Wychlaran again. (Devnote: Utterly unconcerned by the "fool" part, quietly excited by the "Jaheira fights alongside us again" part.)

-----

PLAYER: Speaking of feelings - does Minsc know you were ready to kill the Emperor for him? [INTIMIDATION DC10] [CHECK PASS] JAHEIRA: ...My own foolishness does not absolve Minsc of his. [CHECK FAIL] JAHEIRA: A sad and desperate bluff. I need to be sure that Minsc understands I cannot make such a threat twice. MINSC: I have already pledged my sword and hamster both. What more does Minsc have to give? (Devnote: At a loss.) JAHEIRA: Your word, ranger - that next time, you will stop and think. I will not always be here to tell you what to do. MINSC: If not here, then where? Wherever there is, Minsc and Boo will go too! My hamster... he would not be parted from you again, Jaheira. (Devnote: Heavy emphasis on 'there' in second phrase. Jaheira has suggested she won't be around forever - Minsc won't hear of it. The last is the closest he gets to sincerely telling her how much he missed her.) JAHEIRA: ...I missed him, too. And try as you might, I know you have not missed my point as neatly as you pretend.

[fatgirlonadate-blog]

21 Days - Day 15

Something inside of Xavier has shifted. You can’t quite define it or give it a name, but you can sense it, see it in every glance and feel it in every touch. He is not the same man he was yesterday.

What a difference a day can make.

The change isn't anything obvious—most things haven't changed at all. He is as shy and sweet and earnest as he has always been. He still blushes when you touch him, he still pouts when you tease him, and he is still playful and warm.

But the shadow behind his eyes, the hint of sadness in his smile, is disappearing. There is a growing certainty in him that was not there before, as if he has made a choice -some choice- and it has freed him in a way that seems to extend beyond just his secrets.

It's absurd, but you can't shake the thought that he chose you yesterday—that, somehow, you were always a choice he had to make. You don’t even know what the alternative might have been, but now, when he looks at you, the affection in his eyes feels complete, as if it’s here to stay.

Maybe his fevered promise not to leave again was truly meant for you after all. But that only raises more questions—had he been planning to leave you? And when did he leave the first time?

If you were the choice, then what was the other option?

He has remained tight lipped about this particular detail - unwilling to share any part of it. Other small secrets about his past have trickled out in fragments over the past 24 hours—never fully explained and always a little vague, but still unmistakably genuine. He’s trying to open up, and you’re trying your best not to push him. The rest will come later, you tell yourself.

In the meantime, you have a much more immediate issue to deal with.

There is no other way to put it - Xavier has become adorably, maddeningly clingy. He hasn’t let you stray more than an arm’s length since yesterday, and if he weren't so infuriatingly old fashioned, you're pretty sure he'd have slept with his cock buried deep inside you last night. Instead, he’d settled for holding you close, your back pressed firmly to his chest, with his hand resting possessively between your thighs.

It’s not exactly a bad thing; in fact, you love him even more like this. Every time he teleports to your side instead of walking, you can’t help but laugh, as if the seconds saved are simply too precious for him to waste. You marvel at the confidence in his touch now, the way he explored your body this morning like he owns it. And you fall even deeper for him every time he willingly gives you some crumb of information about who he really is.

You're savoring every moment with him and wish you could pause time and stay like this, just the two of you, forever. But you have a plan today - one that he cannot be a part of because it would spoil the surprise.

"Xavier," You whisper, trying to pull away from his insistent kisses, "I really do have to go soon. I have to check in with Jenna. In person this time. You know how she feels about being kept waiting."

Xavier acts as if he didn’t hear you, keeping you pinned firmly against the front door. His lips find a sensitive spot on your neck, biting gently before soothing it with a warm flick of his tongue. By now, he’s already delayed you at least ten minutes with those distracting, lingering kisses—reminders of just how skilled he is with his mouth.

"Xavier," you say more firmly.

He huffs as he pulls back just far enough for his blue eyes to lock onto yours, and the pout in them is nearly enough to break you.

"Why are you calling me that?" He asks, his forehead dropping to yours as he holds you to him, his nose rubbing against yours.

"What?"

"You usually call me Xav now. Or bunny."

A soft laugh escapes your lips at his confused, slightly pouty tone. "Xavier… Xav, I really need to—"

"But...," He protests, ducking his head to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck again. "Let's go together. We're partners. I go where you go."

"It's supposed to be 24-hour surveillance, Xav. You know we both can't go. We already agreed on this yesterday."

"Yesterday was yesterday. Can't we make a new agreement today?"

The whine in his voice is killing you, but you really do want to surprise him. This birthday needs to be special; he deserves to feel special.

"Not this time, Xav."

Xavier's mouth trails down to your neck, each kiss sending a spark through you as his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you firmly against him. You have to bite your bottom lip to keep from moaning as you feel the insistent press of his hardness against you, even through the layers of clothing.

"Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?" he murmurs, his voice a low, promising whisper.

His mouth is pure temptation against your skin, making it hard to remember why you need to leave. But there will be time for this later—hopefully endless time, forever, if you have anything to say about it.

"Bunny, please." You breathe out, threading your fingers through his hair to gently tug his greedy lips away from your skin. "I have to get going. I'm going to be late."

Xavier pulls back and fixes you with the saddest puppy dog eyes that have ever existed. "I can't believe you'd actually...leave me alone in this house."

"I'll make it up to you when I get home, I promise. And I won't be gone long."

Xavier sighs and nods as his arms tighten around your waist. He lets out a defeated groan, and mumbles, "How long?"

"It's just a few hours. I'll be back before you know it." You smile gently at the boyish sulk that has spread across his face as he continues to mope and press small kisses along your jaw.

Finally he gives in and lets out a heavy sigh that fans out along your skin. “Alright,” he grumbles, releasing his hold on your waist and taking a step back.

The small bit of distance clears your head just enough, and you shake it slightly, trying to dispel the lingering desire coursing through you. God, this man has you so wrapped around his finger that you can barely think straight.

You flash him a quick smile and turn to open the door, but pause, throwing him a puzzled look as he moves to follow you.

"Xav, you know you can’t come with me, right?" you say, a mix of amusement and exasperation in your voice.

He nods, pulling the door open and gesturing for you to go ahead, slipping an arm around your waist as he guides you through. "I know," he says with a grin. "I’m just escorting you to the station. I’m allowed to do that, aren’t I?"

It’s hard to believe that the man who used to vanish for days, even though he was just next door, now can’t imagine being apart from you for more than a few hours. It’s a clinginess you’re not used to—not from him, not from anyone—but oddly, it doesn’t bother you. There’s something deeply comforting about being wanted this much, and you can’t help but hope it never changes.

"I’ll miss you," you say, rising on your tiptoes to press a kiss to Xavier’s cheek as your train pulls into the station. "And try not to blow up the house while I’m gone, alright?"

He looks like he wants to argue, his hand tightening around yours, but then his eyes soften, and he gives you a gentle smile, slipping into his practiced, fake-husband role. “Come back soon, Mrs. Shen. Stay safe.”

He’s an exceptionally good fake husband. So convincing, in fact, that the word itself—fake—irritates you as it echoes in your mind on the train ride into the city. Your marriage to him is fake, yet with each passing day, it feels more real. The thought of it ending… It's almost unthinkable.

As soon as you step off the train and into the city, your plan for the day begins to unravel. The check-in with Jenna is mercifully brief, but her urgency to wrap up this mission leaves you tense and uneasy as you navigate sidewalks that are already too slick for comfort.

Snow in October is a rarity in Linkon, but here it is—thick, heavy flakes falling from the sky, dusting the sidewalks in a thin layer of white. It’s beautiful, but bitterly cold, and you're not dressed nearly warm enough for it.

You shiver as you wander from shop to shop, collecting things for Xavier’s birthday. A surprise party had crossed your mind, but inviting a bunch of fellow hunters to your covert mission apartment didn’t exactly scream discreet. So instead, you’ve opted for something simpler—something you hope he’ll love, even if it has the potential to set the place on fire.

But if it makes him happy? It just might be worth the risk.

The cake ingredients were easy enough to acquire, but the decorations were trickier, the items scattered throughout the city, rather than all together in one single shop. By the time you finish collecting everything for the perfect birthday cake, you're freezing and damp with snow. 

The warmth of the nearby cafe and the promise of something sweet was impossible to resist, and you sigh with relief as you dump your shopping bags onto a table and strip off your cold, damp jacket. A steaming cup of hot chocolate and three macarons later, your phone buzzes in your purse. You dig through the clutter of your wallet and keys to find your phone. It vibrates in your hand again as you pick it up and the screen glows with a notification:

(4) Voice Messages from Xavier

Xavier: Is it snowing there?

Xavier: We ran out of vinegar. Can you get some on your way home?

Xavier: Are you on your way back yet?

Xavier: Are you talking to someone outside right now?

You try not to smile at your phone like an idiot, but you fail as warmth floods through you at the sound of his voice. It’s amazing how a handful of words can make you feel so secure. There's something foreign but comforting about having someone care for you like this - someone waiting for you to get home. It's been a long time since you've had such a simple luxury, and you hadn't realized how much you've missed it.

You: I have to stop and pick up a few more things. But I'll be home soon.

Xavier: What do you want for dinner?

You're contemplating the least disastrous option as footsteps approach your table, and you glance up just in time to see a familiar face.

"Fancy meeting you here, miss bodyguard. There are easier ways to find me, you know. You don't have to stalk me." Rafayel smirks.

He slides into the chair across from you, meeting your wide-eyed gaze as he casually plucks a green macaron from your plate and takes a bite.

Has he always looked like that? you wonder as he flashes you a playful, disarming smile.

Seeing Rafayel is like looking at a masterpiece—he’s almost too perfect, so striking it’s hard to believe he’s real. You thought you’d grown used to his looks ages ago, that you had built up a certain immunity to it. But a few weeks apart have undone that, leaving you vulnerable to his effortless charm again.

Xavier is undeniably handsome, but Rafayel—even dressed simply in a sweater and dark pants—is goddamned majestic.

"Raf! Hey! Uh, what...what are you doing here?" You manage, surprised.

He's wearing his signature look of lazy amusement. His inky purple hair is slightly damp from snow, and he runs a hand through it as he takes another bite of your dessert.

"What do you mean? I come here all of the time. Shouldn't I be asking you that question? You're supposed to be locked away somewhere trying to catch a bad guy, yeah?"

"Oh, shut up. I haven't been locked away; the mission is just taking a while. I came into town today for a mission update." You say, and wave toward your bags, "and some shopping."

His eyes flick toward your bags, narrowing on the pastel letters spelling 'Happy Birthday' across the card that's peeking out.

"Mission update, hm? Interesting," he drawls as he pops the remaining bit of macaron in his mouth. "I'm surprised you escaped your tower, your highness. You haven't really bothered to respond to my texts for the past week. I was starting to think you'd been captured or that you got possessed by Wanderers or something."

"Uh," you stammer, quickly sliding another bag over the one he's eyeing, shifting awkwardly in your chair. "Sorry about that. I’ve just been... really busy."

Though his tone is playful, there's a hint of hurt beneath it that tugs at your heart, just as it always does. He’d deny it until he was blue in the face, but you know he can’t stand feeling ignored—and it sucks to know you're the reason for it this time.

He shrugs and leans back, draping his arms across the back of his chair as he casually crosses an ankle over his knee. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Secret missions and saving the world and whatever. Same as always."

The tired sound of resignation in his voice makes your smile falter, and you can only guess at what's really going on behind those galaxy eyes of his.

After countless late-night phone calls, you used to wonder if there might be something real between you and Rafayel. He was a flirt—that much had been clear from the start—and you’d brushed off his advances, wary of reading too much into them. But sometimes, when it was just the two of you, when the flirting grew a little more heated or the light touches became bolder and hungrier, you were almost certain there was something more. That he felt it, too.

But he never took it further, and the moment would fade as if it had never happened at all.

It doesn’t matter now, you remind yourself, tearing your gaze away to stare out the window. The sky has darkened, snow falling steadily against the glass, and your train will be leaving soon. Whatever might have been between you is just a memory now—one you are scared to dwell on any longer.

"We'll catch up when my mission is over, okay?" You swear, rushing the words as you stand up and shove your jacket on, reaching for the bags on the floor. "I'll come over, you can tell me all about your newest exhibit, and we'll make fun of Thomas together. I pinky promise."

"What?" His eyes widen, and he quickly stands, reaching out to still your hand as you go for another bag. "You’re leaving already? You just got here."

"Raf—" You sigh, guilt gnawing at you for more than one reason. Xavier is waiting. "I really do have to go. My train leaves soon."

His grip tightens around your wrist, his warm hand almost scorching hot as he stares at you with a rare flash of desperation in his eyes. It makes him look vulnerable for just a fraction of a moment, and something inside you tightens, torn between the urge to ease the ache you've caused in him and the need to put distance between yourself and old feelings you’d rather not think about.

"Let me walk you to your stop then," he says, his tone light and easy, but he's still holding your hand prisoner. His suggestion isn’t really a suggestion—it’s more of a demand.

"Fine," You say, rolling your eyes dramatically even as a smile forces its way onto your face. "But make yourself useful. Help me carry this stuff."

Rafayel grins and lets go of your wrist, bending to scoop up most of the bags. "Jeez, these are pretty heavy. I better get some kind of awesome reward for all of this labor."

A chill wind and swirling snowflakes greet you as you step out of the café, making you mutter a curse under your breath. If you’d known it was going to snow, you’d have worn a real coat.

"I hate snow," you grumble as you fall into step beside him.

"What do you mean?" he grins, bumping your hip with his. "Snow is like magic. Look around!" 

He gestures to the snow-dusted trees and buildings blanketed in white. "Each flake is unique, perfect in its own way, turning everything ordinary into something miraculous, if only for a moment. And...it also looks really pretty in your hair."

His enthusiasm is infectious, and his words make you feel warm despite the chill wind cutting through the thin material of your jacket. Maybe you don’t actually hate snow after all.

The walk to the station goes by in a blur as you catch up on the last two weeks: gossiping neighbors, Thomas, how cold the city is this year, his new exhibition, your boring surveillance work—keeping it light and casual.

It almost feels like nothing has changed—the two of you chatting, him cracking jokes and teasing you to get a reaction, and the way your stomach flutters every time he brushes against you. He doesn’t do that by accident; you're sure of it.

A pang of longing hits as you realize just how much you’ve missed this. Despite how he gets under your skin like no one else, his friendship means more than you’d ever care to admit. 

Yes, he drives you crazy, and your feelings for him are confusing—but he’s always had this way of making the world seem brighter, lighter, and somehow more beautiful than you could ever see it on your own.

"It's so cold. I’m frozen solid," you declare, setting your bags down on the bench outside the train station. You’re about ten minutes early, and the air is only getting colder. Your fingers sting with the chill, and you blow on them in a vain attempt to warm up.

Rafayel sets the rest of the bags beside yours with a chuckle, shaking his head, "You're right, it is cold. Too cold for my delicate hands." He pouts, his brows knitting together as he exaggerates a shiver and opens his arms wide. “Hold me.”

"Raf..." You laugh, amused and exasperated.

"Come on, cutie. Don't you know how body heat works?" He quirks a brow, stepping toward you. "You wouldn't let me freeze to death, would you?"

His smile is dazzling, effortlessly charming, and completely irresistible—the kind that melts your resolve into a mushy mess. It’s the sort of smile that can't be refused.

You reluctantly return his smile, already mostly deaf to the alarm bells ringing in your ears, and step into his embrace. “Okay, okay. Just for a little while.”

Rafayel laughs, a warm sound rumbling through his chest as he wraps one arm tightly around you, pulling you close. With his other hand, he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing gently over your cheek and neck. The sharp, clean scent of him—citrus and sea salt—fills your senses as you lean into him, soaking in his warmth.

The alarm in the back of your mind grows louder, more frantic, the closer you get. Yet the soft thrum of his heartbeat, syncing with yours, drowns it out, and the warmth of his breath against your skin is enough to silence the knot of warning you feel in your stomach. The familiar scent that clings to him wraps around you like a shield, blocking out even the smallest of doubts.

"Hold still," he says softly, his fingers threading through your hair as he gently combs it out. "You've got snowflakes in your hair."

A sarcastic remark hovers on the tip of your tongue—of course you have snowflakes in your hair, he does too, it's snowing—but the warmth in his eyes as he strokes your hair holds you silent. His fingers are gentle as he carefully smooths your hair back even as more snowflakes continue to fall, and he leans even closer to see his task clearly in the dim evening light.

Your cheeks flush as he moves closer, leaning into you, and a familiar warmth builds inside of you, making it hard to breathe evenly. You turn your head away from his hand, but he frowns and gently cups your cheek, tilting your face up to his.

"Hey," he scolds gently, "I'm not done. Don't move."

But his hand doesn’t return to your hair. Instead, he gently caresses your reddening cheek, a soft smile spreading across his face. "You're being pretty shy," he murmurs.

And you are. No sarcastic remarks or witty comebacks come to mind, not with the way he’s pressed against you, the softness of his touch on your cheek, and with his face so close to yours. The only sound you can make is a quiet hum that doesn't mean anything at all.

His eyes roam from your cheek to your ears and down to your neck, and he slides his hand along the same path. "Hmm. Your cheeks, and your ears, and even your neck...are all so cold. Do you want me to help warm you up?"

It’s not just warmth in his eyes anymore; it’s heat, and your stomach flips as he drops the tone of his voice to a low purr. The feel of his warm breath against the side of your neck makes your pulse quicken and your own breath catches in your throat.

"Is it working?" He whispers, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks.

You nod, barely breathing, as the heat that has built inside of you threatens to ignite into a blaze, your body trembling as you press against him.

“What about here?” Rafayel asks, shifting to the other side of your neck. His warm breath caresses your cool skin before he nuzzles close, trailing slow, lingering kisses from your ear to your neck.

He’s never kissed you before; of that, you’re certain. Yet somehow, in this moment, it’s as if you’re reliving a memory. His warmth, his scent, his touch, the way his body presses against yours—it feels natural, achingly familiar, as if you’ve known it all along. You could lose yourself here, drown in the sensation, and never surface again.

You’re trembling, but not from the cold, as Rafayel pulls back, his hands gently cupping your face. “You’re so quiet,” he says, his voice laced with curiosity. “I haven't the slightest idea of what’s going on in that head of yours. Have my awesome heating skills truly rendered you speechless?”

All you can manage is a shaky laugh, more like a breathless gasp, unable to form a single coherent word as a wave of déjà vu hits you, overwhelming and intense.

"Looking at my bodyguard..." He pauses, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "I can't tell if she's happy right now..." Leaning in, he brushes a soft kiss against the corner of your lips, then locks eyes with you. "Or maybe she's not?"

You stare, wide-eyed, unable to break free from the grip of the dizzying familiarity of this all— frozen in place by how deeply, unexplainably right it all feels.

"Raf, I..." You trail off, lost for words, unsure of what you're trying to express, but knowing you have to say something. Anything. That you can't do this with him, or that you need more of him. Or that, sometimes, two things can be true.

Before you can untangle your thoughts or find the words to express your conflicted feelings, he silences you with a kiss. It’s gentle at first, tentative—his lips brushing softly against yours. Then the kiss deepens, his mouth pressing to yours with an intensity that feels raw, as if the longing comes from the depths of his soul.

You’re drowning now, clinging to him as if he’s your anchor amid the waves of emotion and memory crashing over you. For a moment, time and space collapse, and it feels like this has always been your life, as if this is just one second in a lifetime spent with him like this.

But the brush of his tongue against yours snaps you back to reality, and you tense in his arms, your hand moving to the back of his neck to gently pull him away.

"What?" he whispers, breaking the kiss as he rests his forehead against yours. "Do you want me to stop?"

His voice sounds so tender and hopeful that it breaks your heart a little, and your stomach twists with guilt as you lean away from his embrace.

In another life, you’d beg him to keep going. In another universe, you’d be his completely—mind, body, and soul. You can feel the way his heart calls your name.

But not this life; not in this universe. In all of the world, there is only one call your heart answers to, and it is Xavier's.

“Raf,” you whisper, your voice soft and aching, “I’m so sorry, but—”

"I know what you're going to say," Raf cuts you off before you even finish, hurt replacing the warmth in his eyes, "Sooo you don't have to say it."

He drops his hands from your face and steps back, and the cold wind that cuts through you is nothing compared to the burning ache flaring to life in your chest.

He runs a hand through his hair, shaking loose a few snowflakes, and lets out a bitter laugh. “I guess things with the ‘fake’ husband aren’t so fake anymore, yeah?”

"I love him," you admit, the words escaping before you can stop them, leaving you stunned. You’d never said it out loud before, never dared to voice what you felt. But now it’s out, and there's no taking it back.

Rafayel laughs again, a choked sound that gets stuck in his throat, and looks up at the sky as if searching for an answer there. After a moment, he groans softly before his eyes return to yours, "Oh, that intense, huh?"

You nod, silent, unwilling to say anything more for fear of deepening the hurt in his eyes. The few feet of space between you feel insurmountable, and you itch to close the distance, to reach out and comfort him somehow.

Rafayel sighs, his hand motioning toward the empty air, as if Xavier were standing here, too. "Is he... is he better than me?"

"No, Raf," You groan, the ache in your heart burning even brighter, "He's not better. It's just...different. I can't explain it."

Rafayel looks away again, his lips pressing together in a tight line, before turning back to you with an uncharacteristic seriousness in his eyes. "Just...promise you won't forget about me, okay?"

Tears sting your cheeks, and the hurt, desperate sound of his plea is all the proof you need to understand that a broken heart can keep breaking.

"Oh, Raf, I could never forget about you," you promise, stepping closer. You reach for his arm just as the train pulls into the station, the loudspeaker announcing its arrival.

"I won’t," you swear, ignoring the blaring sound. "Never."

He steps back from your outstretched fingers, and his voice and eyes harden as he replies, "You will. You always do."

The train stops, passengers streaming past, and you open your mouth, trying to reassure him—but no words come. A wave of uncertainty hits as his cryptic words echo in your mind, and you fail to make sense of them.

The option to reach for him, to pull him close and comfort him, is stolen from you as he turns around and starts walking back in the direction you came.

"Get on the train," he calls over his shoulder, "Don't keep Romeo waiting."

You hesitate, your fist clenching as your heart and mind fight for control. Watching him walk away feels like losing a part of yourself, though you can't quite understand why.

You board the train with tears in your eyes, and search through your purse for your phone. You send a quick message to Xavier to let him know you'll be there soon, and try to collect the pieces of your heart as the train speeds toward home.

Xavier chose you yesterday. And today, you chose him.

This star isn't going anywhere. 

[catcheroflies]

sigh so to understand what im saying you need a backstory:

so im going to make a ballet fic about jegulus and apparently i dont like dance culture because of how rigorous it is because my friend @florenceandthejellybean is a dancer and we fought over it for weeks and its so funny to me how im writing about it now BUT its kind of mixing both our povs together on how we see dance

I was also going to make this moonwater but like i genuinely don’t know if i could make that work in a dance world setting.

BUT

the black family is complicated, royally complicated and james potter knows this how? well: from the hours sirius talked about it, but when he tried to get specific details he couldn’t get them, regulus couldn’t be mentioned even by remus unless sirius did.

but what really made him know was when regulus opened a ballet studio and sirius was talking about it for months. finally james had enough about it.

“That’s it!” james interrupted sirius spew making the dining room silent.

“What?”

“It cannot be as bad as you’re saying.”

“James-“

“No! And to prove it to you I’ll join his class and if I can go a year without giving in then it will be settled.”

“A year?! James I’m not kidding when I say it’s literally abuse especially with my brother he will not let you miss a class until you’re in a hospital bed. You are not joining his class.”

james gave his “bullshit” look that all his friends grew to know ever since they were kids.

“You can’t tell me no.”

silence was all that was meant for a moment.

“I bet you can’t even go half a year.”

james knew the bitter pettiness in sirius tone when he heard it, but james was just so tired of hearing about how bad his class would be.

“Fine.”

[icycoldninja]

I’m feeling angsty today so I came up with the idea.

Can you write the DMC men when they’ve been in a relationship with the reader for a relatively long time and they thought that they’ve been truthful to one and another and understand their flaws and uniqueness but one night, while in bed, the reader mutter under her breath:

“ You’re too good for me, how? And why? To be loved and desired…is one’s closest feeling to being immortal in this vast universe yet…why me? Of all those out there?”

She muttered as she thought they were still sleeping, but in fact they’re listening very carefully what she says, the quiver in her voice and the cracked tone of one’s suspension of crying

Then they turned to ask her why she thought she didn’t deserve to be loved, she kinda replies that it feels wrong to be loved and feels wrong to love someone knowing you can’t return the gesture how you want due to wither their financial limitations or emotional limitations, even though one should never be deprived of such feelings disregard of race, gender and class

Then she muttered that:

“If anything were to happen to me, you need to move on, forget about me, fall in love with others and treat them like how you treated me and start a family with them, okay?”

“You should not bind yourself in the past for my sake…even though it pains me to see you with others…but to not let you move on would be my biggest guilt”

How would they initially react?

This one's gonna be a bit different since they're more like reaction headcannons than anything else. Enjoy.

Sparda boys + V reactions headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante cannot believe you just said that. He's shocked, genuinely, undeniably shocked.

-He loves you because you're an awesome, sweet person who dared to get close to him despite all his issues and emotional baggage; someone who stuck with him through his crazy highs and depressed lows, and he'll forever be grateful for that.

-Then he hears you yammering on about how you want him to move on if something happened to you, and wonders if you've gotten amnesia.

-What kind of monster do you think he is?! He could never get over you even if he tried, and besides, with him around, nothing bad could possibly happen to you.

-That's it, Dante can't stay silent any longer. He decides to wake from his pretend slumber like Dracula and tell you all this straight to your face.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil, the ever alert insomniac, heard every word you said and was quite upset about it.

-He chose you because you had the strength to stand before a son of Sparda and not quaver in your boots. You accepted him for what he was, and loved all of him equally, from Urizen to V.

-He was insulted by the next string of blasphemous words that left your mouth. How dare you suggest that he, the King of Motivation, would allow you to get hurt? Did you really have such little faith in him?

-He would not let you die--he would sooner kick the bucket than let you meet your demise, and even if you did pass away by some unfortunate turn of events, Vergil would never get over it.

-He could see it even now, how he'd lay his remaining human half to rest alongside your corpse, fully embracing the demon within him and going on to conquer the world, disregarding his brother and all that you'd built together.

-Vergil probably should have told you this, since the only reason you were saying such depressing words was because you needed comfort, but decided to keep silent. After all, he wasn't supposed to hear what you said, so he'll pretend he didn't. However, he will snuggle up to you so you can at least feel the comforting warmth of his presence.

□ Nero □

-Nero was awakened by your mumbling and managed to catch most of what you said. It took him some time to process everything since his brain was foggy, but once he understood what you meant, his heart broke.

-Why is that even a question? Why do you sound like you're about to cry? Are you considering leaving him? Are you terminally ill? What would make you say such a thing?

-Nero loves you because you're sweet and you care for him in ways no one else can. You're ready to die to protect him, and so is he--no one else could replace you.

-How dare you ask him to move on if something happened to you? He loved you, and only you! If you died, Nero would be inconsolable, he'd probably fall into a deep, deep depression and overdose on painkillers or something, but this is all speculation.

-Nero would sacrifice anything and everything if it meant keeping you safe, do you should have nothing to fear.

-Nero knew the only reason you were mumbling such things was because you thought he was asleep, meaning you intended for these words to be kept private. As much as he wanted to keep that illusion alive for your sake, he couldn't let you say these things and go to sleep thinking so negatively. Thus, he arose from slumber and pulled you into his arms, repeatedly reminding you of how much he loved and needed you until you fell asleep.

● V ●

-V happened to flutter awake at the exact moment you began your nocturnal lament, mumbling about how you didn't deserve him, or something like that.

-V was taken aback, wondering why you would even think that when it was clear he was the one who didn't deserve you.

-Then you started muttering about how you wished he would move on, forget about you, and start a new life if anything was to happen to you. This made V's heart shatter.

-He could believe you would say that; you were the love of his life, the one woman who cared enough to stay with such a weak, physically pathetic, borderline invalid for so long and enjoy the experience. You'd left a lasting imprint on him, one that he wouldn't forget anytime soon.

-The very fact that you'd suggest such a thing was not only heartbreaking but also insulting. V wouldn't let you continue thinking like this any longer.

-He got up and immediately wrapped you in the tightest hug he could muster, whispering sweet words of affirmation into your ear until you broke down in tears, then covering you with kisses till you calm down.

[togrowoldinv]

Chef

Natasha Romanoff x Chef!Reader

You’re the head chef at a popular restaurant where Natasha acts as a hostess, bartender, and subject of your flirtation all at once

Note: This is based on the movie Chef! It’s just a short little something to explore this variant of Natasha hehe. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

Being a chef has always been your dream. From the day you were born, your parents often joke, you were meant to be in the kitchen.

Your affinity from cooking was only made more intense as you grew up and explored cooking as a real career. You can draw inspiration from almost anywhere and come up with amazing dishes that have no parallel.

At least that’s how it used to be. You started working at fancier restaurants in a new city and somewhere along the way, you lost the freedom to cook what you wanted.

You’re instructing your staff how to prepare for the day when the door opens.

“Y/n,” the voice that you usually enjoy hearing calls out to you. But you can tell she means business and immediate stress washes over you. “Bruce is here.”

“I cannot deal with that right now,” you say. There’s a hint of anger in your tone, but she knows it’s not directed at her.

“I’ll try to delay him, but be ready for him to come back here.”

“Thank you, Nat,” you say as she leaves the kitchen.

It’s a few moments later when you hear the voice of your dreaded boss.

"We’ve got a full house tonight, Chef. You’re making the usual, right?” Bruce asks you. His tone is a bit snarky.

“Actually I was thinking I’d try something-“

"That next word better not be new. You’ll make the menu that works. End of discussion!” Bruce fires back. He’s beginning to get angry, or as you say ‘turn green.’

“The big critic is coming and we can impress him with-“

“This is my restaurant! Not yours! Cook the fucking original menu,” Bruce leaves no room for argument.

"Fine,” you say with a sigh. He smiles at your defeat and you shake your head.

A friendly hand comes to your shoulder. “One of these days, y/n. They’ll see how good your food is,” your colleague and close friend, Wanda, says.

“Thanks Max,” you say genuinely.

You spend the next few minutes briefing the staff on the menu for tonight. It’s the same as always and your staff isn’t any happier then you are about it.

“And for wine pairings please see Natasha,” you finish your instructions. She gives you a soft look as you head back to the kitchen.

The first part of the night goes pretty smoothly. But when a food critic shows up, you grumble again about having to make the same menu.

“It’s alright, y/n,” Wanda says. “We’ll make the best molten lava cake for this jackass.”

You laugh at her and plate the food for the critic as per usual. Your trusty server, Peter, takes the food out to Tony the critic.

Watching from the kitchen, you shake your head at the way he reacts. You can’t tell exactly what he says, but you know it’s no good.

“Peter, come here,” you call for the young man. “What did he say?”

“He- um- he asked why it’s the same food as usual,” Peter says.

“Fucking Bruce,” you say, turning back to the kitchen.

Natasha catches the way you hang your head in defeat. She leaves the host table in Monica’s hands and slips into the kitchen.

“Hey there,” Natasha says, she leans softly into your arm. “You alright?”

“Not really,” you mumble as you keep chopping peppers.

“One more hour and then you’re free,” she says.

You look at her finally and she’s wearing a smirk on her face. You and Nat have made a little bit of a habit of going home together. Nothing tends to happen. You cook her dinner and she enjoys it with some flirting, but nothing more.

“My place?” You ask her quietly.

“Definitely,” she replies.

With that, she leaves you in the kitchen to finish cooking the meal for Tony that you know he’s going to rip into you about in the review article.

By closing time, you’re exhausted. Natasha helps you clean up the kitchen before you go.

Your phone dings and you dread looking at it.

“Let me see it,” Natasha says, holding her hand out. You’re reluctant. “Come on. Rip off the bandaid.”

You hand her your phone and her eyes scan the article while you grab your keys and lock up.

“So, how was it?” You ask her once you’re walking to your car together.

“Not great,” Nat says honestly. You sigh and open the door for her. She slides into the passenger side. “But don’t worry,” she adds once you’re in the car as well.

“I always worry,” you say, leaning your head back on the seat.

“I know,” Natasha says. A frown forms on her beautiful lips. “You know what?”

“Hm?”

“I’m starving,” she says.

You smile and start the car. “I can do something about that.”

At some point during the drive, Natasha’s hand comes to your thigh. Something about tonight feels different.

She makes herself comfortable at the bar across from you as you cook her one of your signature meals.

“Here you are, my lady,” you say, placing the plate in front of her.

Natasha takes a bite and as per usual she loves it.

“Good?”

“Great,” she says, a certain breathiness to her voice that threatens to make you kiss her right then and there. “Join me.”

You sit next to her and enjoy your own serving.

“This is the kind of stuff I want to cook at the restaurant,” you tell her. “Not that stuffy menu Bruce requires.”

“He doesn’t know shit about restaurants,” Nat adds.

“One day I’m going to do it. I’m going to walk in there and make my menu,” you say. Nat watches you with an amused smirk. “To hell with him.”

You catch her smirking at you and feel a heat creep up your neck.

“You’re really adorable when you get to ranting like this,” Natasha says.

“Oh, thanks,” you reply shyly.

Nat turns to you and her hands take each side of your face. She leans in.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks. Her voice is raspy and you can smell her perfume.

“Please,” you say.

She closes the distance and her lips find yours. It starts out slow but quickly she’s deepening the kiss, the result of all of the pining for each other.

“Natasha,” you whisper against her lips, breathless from the kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” she says.

“Me too,” you say.

You kiss her this time, taking your time to feel her against you.

“Take me to bed, chef?” She asks.

You grin at her and she pulls you off the stool and towards your bedroom.

As long as you have Natasha on your side, it doesn’t matter what any critic in the world says. And she will always be on your side.

[crowhunterzz]

i know it’s been said on here plenty of times but i genuinely get so upset when i see people continuously perpetuate the whole “Gehrman’s a creep and the Doll is a sex object theory” when there’s an actually direct in-game evidence showing that none of that is true. and yk what despite the posts abt this that already exist i am, in fact, gonna make one of my own.

Okay so first off, The Voiceline. You know the one.

Yeah this line got interpreted by a portion of the fandom as weird, especially because of the tone it’s said in. However, there are two pieces of context that immediately show what he meant by this.

The first, is that you DO use the Doll. She provides a service for you by taking your blood echoes and turning them into your strength (the level up system).

Aside from this, the ability to talk to her, and the option of giving her an item, there is nothing else you can do with her, and nothing else the game even implies you can do with her. She does not even have any truly “romantic” dialogue. She mentions that she loves you, but that she does because she was created to do so.

She loves all the hunters because her purpose is to care for them, and in her words, embolden their sickly spirits.

The second piece of context is in Gehrman’s dialogue just before he says the line about the Doll.

He is telling you that anything you find in the workshop is a tool you can use to strengthen yourself and make the hunt easier. He is referring to the Doll as a tool, because she is one of the few the workshop has not lost. He’s not sexualizing her, he’s talking about her like she is a tool, and something to be used, not seen as a person.

Is it a good thing? No, but considering he resents her for not being what he created her to be (or by another interpretation, coming to life when he never intended her to), it’s not unreasonable to assume that over time he would just categorize her as a thing instead of a person.

The second piece of evidence towards this god awful theory is the Doll’s white blood. Honestly I cannot believe people genuinely take this as being semen, because not only is there a canon reason for creatures to have pale blood, but also it’s just disgusting.

You need a minimum of one insight to see the Doll during the game, she was given life by the Moon Presence following Gehrman’s placement in the Hunter’s Dream, and she bleeds pale blood. She’s kin. (Yes I am aware the game does not consider her kin in regards to whether or not she can be dealt damage based gems that alter your attacks vs kin, but you’re not supposed to be fighting her anyway, and it’s not like you need a bonus to kill her in the first place).

And finally, to address the other big point, the item descriptions that appear on Maria’s Hunter Garb and the Doll’s Set.

I would like to address first, the obvious, that Maria’s garb says directly she was “unaware of his curious mania” (however you interpret that), but the point is she was unaware, he clearly in life, never made advances on her (which is something I’ve seen a few people state is ‘implied’???).

The second, and this one is a bit in the subtext, is that the Doll seems to not have any idea that Gehrman ever had any positive feelings towards her at all, she expresses a love for the hunter in a way that reflects someone who was never shown love in any capacity (likely due to the circumstances surrounding her achieving sentience), so its reasonable to assume as well that she was entirely unaware of the ‘curious mania’ as well.

Additionally I would point out that while referencing Gehrman’s mania once more, the Doll’s description also directly states that she was once loved and cared for, something that changed after she gained sentience. She likely served as a memorial for Maria, considering there is no canon evidence Maria herself actually has a grave.

The grave that provides the Old Hunter Bone may be hers, but the item description refers to the hunter it came from as “he.” This could be due to it being placed there prior to the decision to give Maria the quickening skill in her boss fight, or it could be that Maria did not have a proper grave for whatever reason, and thus the Doll was needed, which could then relate the obsession to an obsession with Gehrman keeping a memory of her, as there is nothing else he seems to have of her.

Everything here aside I would like to also point out that the Doll is quite literally, a doll. There is nothing that would even suggest she would be capable of any sort of sexual relationship.

Especially because even before the Dream, the Doll did have a specific purpose. She seems to be modeled after Victorian mourning dolls, which were items used to help families/loved ones process grief, typically of children, by having something to remind them of the deceased that did not itself look deceased. If you consider the grave in the Abandoned Old Workshop to be Maria’s and know that that’s also where the Doll is in the waking world, then that’s probably what she’s for. Or as stated before, the grave may NOT be hers, and the Doll itself IS her grave.

Another thing I didn’t point out but will, for a moment get into, is the Doll’s clothing being feminized. A lot of people take this as Gehrman being a misogynist and sexualizing her in a more feminine way as if he himself was not training Maria (and likely other women) to be hunters during his life. He encouraged the less feminine life she lived as a hunter!

That point always confuses me, especially knowing that one of the last things Maria likely said to Gehrman was what she said after the massacre at the Fishing Hamlet where she threw away her weapon and renounced the hunt, choosing to retire (and potentially become a caretaker for the Church’s patients, judging by her role in the Hunter’s Nightmare). Like OF COURSE he dressed her like that, she expressed that she no longer wanted to be a hunter so he made her the opposite. The only reason she is dressed the way she is in the Hunter’s Nightmare is because that is how Kos is depicting her, not because it’s her conscious choice.

The point of this is, Gehrman is one of my all time favorite characters alongside Maria and the Doll, and while yes, I am well aware he isn’t perfect, it’s still frustrating to see him get so mischaracterized by a fandom who insists they love lore so much, and care about the tiny details. You can dislike Gehrman or think he does shitty things and that’s fine, but creating a story where he’s a creep just to prove you care about Maria and the Doll is weird. And it’s weirdER that people argue IN FAVOR of the theory as if it MUST be true, because honestly why would anyone even want it to be???

This post also was specifically done without consideration for whatever type of relationship Gehrman and Maria had according to canon or any interpretations. Essentially I’m not necessarily saying any of this has anything to do with whether or not you ship them, I personally don’t, but I know some people do, and I feel like on either side you can still be critical of this Doll theory, as it is entirely baseless.

(In case anyone is interested, the images and references used for this were from the Bloodborne wiki, specifically this one.)

[i-write-sometimes-maybe]

Passion- Lady Lesso x EverToNever!Reader.

Synopsis: Wherever she goes, you follow.

Warnings: None.?

Word Count: 1.1k

A/n: Me? Writing to distract myself? Yes. I really love some of the things I put in here so I hope you guys love it too. I really hate that it’s so short BUT I have another one ready for ya. And I have a longer one in the works too!

© This is my work, you have no right to repost my work for any reason without my explicit permission, all rights reserved.

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

Lesso had asked you to join her on her next venture. She didn't tell you any details past that, and you didn't care to ask for any. You were simply pleased to be joining her.

Lesso had asked that you not disclose the fact you were tagging along to Dovey, it made sense. You were an Ever teacher tagging along with the Dean of Evil, Dovey wouldn't approve.

Even if she knew that you and Lesso were meant to be together.

You were to sneak out of the School for Good to meet Lesso at the bridge between Good and Evil on the last crescent moon of the month.

And so you did.

Once it started to approach midnight, you left your quarters and silently moved through the halls.

You didn't have anything with you but the clothes you adorned, all by the direction of Lesso. Again, you didn't ask any questions.

You made it through the school easily enough, passed all the fairies that must've been sleeping, and passed anyone who may have been on watch.

It was so close, the border to the other school was right within reach.

But just as you were about to cross, someone grabbed your arm and pulled you around.

"My dear, where are you going?" Dovey had her sweet smile, one that you never really saw as sincere.

You felt no need to lie, you were going regardless of whether or not you had permission.

"I'm going, I'm going with Lady Lesso," You started.

She cut you off, "Wha- you can't do that. You cannot leave, especially not with her."

You stood confused for a second until you saw Lesso walk up behind you. She must've been watching for your arrival but stayed for a moment to see how Dovey would react.

"Well, why not?"

"Because you're an Ever. She's a Never. It cannot happen."

Lesso rolled her eyes, "It has happened already, princess."

You inwardly smirked at the response she had for Dovey. She calls you her princess, but hearing the disdain in the word when it's directed at Dovey oddly fills you with joy, especially when you know how delicious it sounds when she means it every time she uses it for you.

"So, we'll just be going now-" Again, you tried before getting cut off.

"No!"

"No?" She was starting to frustrate you, and Lesso saw it.

"No. I cannot allow you to leave. Not with her."

"Clarissa, I am not asking. We are going, together."

"Oh for what? For some cheap fun? She'll tire of you in a few weeks time." You hoped to whatever creator that she didn't mean those words.

She had managed to set Lesso off, you could sense it without even looking at her. And at her words, her careless words, you stopped playing nice.

There was fury in her tone as Lesso stepped forward, "Princess, you-" You simply raised your hand to stop Lesso, her stopping right in her tracks at this move, this is your turn.

You could see genuine shock and confusion flash on Dovey's face when she saw how easily you handled your Leo.

"Dovey, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I don't? It's puppy love! What don't I know what I'm talking about?"

You were unsure of where this attitude of hers came from, and you didn't like it.

"Dovey, you don't get it. Anyone else would sacrifice me for the world, but Leo? She'd sacrifice the world for me. You do things for the greater good, but for her, there is no greater good if she doesn't have me. And I can only hope that one day, you find someone who will love you as strongly as we love each other."

Dovey scoffed, "Desire isn't everything." You knew that she had reason to be so defensive, but that didn't mean you cared what that reason was.

You bit back a smirk, "Maybe not. But the pure, fierce need, the way that nothing can stand in the way of us, there's nothing we wouldn't do for each other."

"Y/n, she wants to see the world burn!"

You stepped forward with a proud smirk, leaving just a few steps distance between you two, "Then I shall be by her side as she sets it aflame. I will relish in the heat of the embers if that means I get to be with her for all eternity."

"So, that's it? You choose evil?"

"No, I choose love. Wherever she may lead me is where I shall follow. And I'm not asking you to understand, I'm asking you to stay out of our way," Dovey stood astonished at your words while Lesso beamed with pride and love. "For your own good."

"You wouldn't do anything to me..."

"I might not," You opened your arms with nonchalance, "But I can't say the same for your Evil counterpart."

Lesso stepped forward once more to be by your side, "And I make no promises."

Dovey looked from the redhead to you, staying silent for a moment.

You both took this as a cue to leave, you knew you weren't waiting for permission anyway. Lesso had just turned around to continue on, and before you could, Dovey spoke again.

"What if it's a ruse? That she's using you for her own gain? You're making a mistake." She tried to get you to stay, but you weren't having it.

"Then that is my choice. This is solely your concern Dovey, not mine." You took a step back, "She would not do that. But, if your little delusion happens to play out, then it will be my turn to set fire to everything in my path."

Dovey was completely unrecognizable, "Who, who are you? It's like I don't even know you anymore."

"You've never known me. Not in any way that mattered."

Dovey stood in place, staring with a face you wouldn't have been able to recognize had you been paying attention to her.

But your attention was elsewhere, of course. Held by the one who held your heart. You had turned back to Lesso to see her already watching you, her proud look stayed unmoving on her features.

When you two were together, nothing else seemed to exist. Nothing else mattered but your love and your intertwined souls.

"Come, Dove. Let us set fire to the world." Lesso pulled you into a kiss, a kiss that held the passion between you two. A kiss that tells you no matter what happens, you two will be side by side.

You two continued on the venture, wherever it may have been. You still didn't care where you were going because you were with your love, hand-in-hand, hearts tied together. And you wouldn't have had it any other way.

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @v3nusxsky @just-your-casual-nerd @hxzxrdous @bigolgay @scream-queenlover @darkth1ngs @i-like-reading @pebbleswritessometimes @sgelessoanddoveykissing (lmk if you wanna join my taglist!)

[psalacanthea]

still organizing all my fic folders as I remove stuff from gdocs, found the old Cello fic prompts. I don't feel like putting this all on AO3, so I'll just post this here and if ppl seem interested maybe I'll dust off the rest some time.

This one I BELIEVE was the first post-fic prompt, chronologically.

It was a beautiful night, just a hint of summer in the air- a promise of things to come.

Ella had never been to the old Denerim Arlage estate, which had been converted to a museum. Sadly, not the interesting kind with dinosaurs, but the other kind. The kind without laser light shows. It had a garden, but she remembered the last time she'd ditched Solas to go hide in a garden, and didn't want to repeat the experience.

Not that she didn't appreciate art, but her frustration with this particular art museum crowd was almost as strong as Fenris'. And there wasn't anywhere to go and hide when you got sick of them. You couldn't really hide behind a painting and make out.

Well, you could, but people would see you.

“Why am I here.” Fenris' skill in asking questions that sounded like statements was unparalleled. Especially when combined with the dead-eyed stare and the slight sneer in his raspy voice. “You have a girlfriend now. Specifically so that I do not have to come to these sorts of events.”

“Is that why he got me? I thought it was because I'm witty and super smart and pretty.” She peered down into her wine glass. Empty. Damn. They only poured like a half inch into the bottom of it anyways. “I didn't realize it was to make your life easier.”

“I find you to be very charming and intelligent,” Solas informed her placidly, and then added on as she glanced up to him, “and you are very pretty.”

The embarrassment was instant, and so was the fidget, her fingers twisting tighter in his as they shared a look.

“You are very pretty too," she told him, not just because it flustered him a little, that little bit of a flush that made his freckles stand out a little more. Also because it was true, and because...

“Stop it,” Fenris demanded near-instantly, disgust evident in his tone. “I will lose my dinner if you do not stop that. Right. This instant.”

And because it would annoy Fenris.

Her smile turned a hint impish, and Solas gave her a silent look of reproof, lifting her hand for a brief kiss on the knuckles. Still, she was quite sure he was thinking about smiling just a little as he looked up and away.

“I asked that you attend to locate the donors I am expected to speak to, Fenris.” Solas finally said, after scanning the U-shaped gallery for the third time. “For now, however, we will enjoy the exhibit. Find us again in half an hour.”

"Understood."

Ella followed as Solas wandered away, letting her empty glass be taken by a passing server. That was nice. She made sure to smile and say thank you, even briefly, remembering that whole mess in Halamshiral. Bleh. The wrinkle of her nose drew Solas' attention as they paused in front of a painting, and he gave her a curious look.

“No, nothing. Just a bad memory,” she told him mildly, and then turned her gaze towards the painting. Pretty, but kind of...messy. She tilted her head slightly to the left and squinted. “Oh. Huh, I get it.”

“It is...vhenan, I do not believe this particular piece is meant to be 'gotten'.” He remarked, in what she was coming to recognize as his 'being tolerant of my weird girlfriend' voice. She liked that one.

“No, it sort of looks like a naked lady if you squint a little bit,” she insisted, and was gratified to finally see a genuine smile from him. She resisted the urge to kiss the corner of it. “It's okay. Like you said, two hours. We can survive two hours.”

“I cannot recall telling you of my reluctance to attend.” He led her on to the next painting, pausing to get her another glass of wine.

She accepted it with a smile, and was relieved to see his shoulders relaxing just a little. She'd get him to share his burdens a bit yet. Stubborn man, stuck inside his own head.

“I could tell,” she responded simply, fingers tightening a little in his, securely. “Why else do you think I'd be in heels?”

“I thought you were just trying to see the world from a new vantage point." His smile only in his low voice, staying off of his lips.

“Ah, yes, a short joke. Excellent, excellent.” She pulled on her most pompously affected voice, which of course happened to be Orlesian. Petty revenge being best revenge and all. “I would say zat joke was per'aps from what we now refer to as his 'I think I'd like to be single again' period. Also commonly known as ze 'blue balls' period.”

The clearing of his throat was so loud that there were suddenly about a dozen eyes on them, and she freed her hand from his to solicitously pat his back. All while hiding a smirk, and he tried to hide his red cheeks behind his hand, finger and thumb splayed over his mouth. She could feel the tension in his shoulders as he tried not to laugh, smug satisfaction settling in.

It took him a few moments to recover, and then a few more to settle himself. She thought he might at least give her a token chide, but instead he just cleared his throat again, quieter this time, and took her hand once more. Smiling to herself, she behaved as they wandered around to look at the rest of the paintings.

Solas seemed more relaxed, and that's really all she'd wanted.

Ellana was really starting to wish that Leliana had time to come to this. She knew she'd gotten an invitation, but there was some sort of silent auction going on somewhere that she was helping. A Chantry thing, she thought. A proper charity, not self-congratulatory assholes like some of the ones here. Being with Solas helped, it did, and she felt like she got a lot less second looks because of it.

Less, not none. And some of the first looks were bad enough, like when someone who passed by handed her their empty glass without even looking at her. She took it, because what else do you do when someone shoves a glass at you? And then she just sort of stared at it for a minute. Ellana shook her head as Solas immediately half-turned, grabbing his arm to stop him.

Not worth it. Just...not worth it.

“Ir abelas, vhenan.” He leaned over to plant a small kiss on top of her head. “Josephine should have been here to navigate such insults. It was simply bad luck that she took ill.”

“She does have a way of handling this crap.” She agreed, and then sighed, lifting the dirty glass. “What was she thinking with this shade of lipstick, anyways?”

“The world may never know. Where is Fenris?”

That...was a good question, actually.

Lips pursing together, she scanned the room, checking the corners, of course. Always check the corners for the hipster with his face in his cell phone. And...nope.

“I don't know, you should probably check if they're missing any bottles of wine. If so, probably the coat closet.” She glanced up and aside at Solas, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “And if so, I'm kind of thinking about joining him.”

“I would not blame you.”

“No, I'm serious. Not joking. I would completely hide in the coat closet with a bottle of wine. That would actually make my night about a hundred times better right now, especially if you were there, too. Pants basically optional at that point.”

For a long moment, he didn't say anything, scanning the gallery in silence, a thoughtfully distant look on his face. She was actually starting to worry she'd annoyed him. She had said she'd come, after all, maybe she wasn't being supportive enough. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this dumb, fancy sort of thing. Which would be a huge pain in the ass, because she knew he had to do this sort of thing, and it was part of his job and she did want to be a good girlfriend...

Solas gave a small tug to her hand, turning. "

Dumbfounded, she managed to contain the questions and sheer disbelief, following after him. It wasn't until he'd left her in the hall with a squeeze of her hand and ducked into the server's room that she snapped out of her surprised daze. And then started giggling.

“What?” he asked her as he wandered back out, bottle of wine in hand.

The sight only made her laugh all the more, cheeks pinked. Eventually it roused a smile from him as well, and he shook his head at her slowly.

“Did you actually steal that?” she asked him, letting him take her hand again and lead her off.

“I asked. They aren't paid to care what guests do, vhenan.”

He didn't turn back towards the gallery, but down a hallway they hadn't been down before, his fingers laced securely in hers. Curiously she watched the way ahead, glancing into darkened rooms as they passed them.

“I'm not used to people just giving me things when I ask,” she pointed out, laughter still coloring her words. “You just assume no one will say no to you, and then they don't. You bulldozer.”

"I find it makes my life less complicated. Come,” he pulled her around a turn, and she blinked in surprise at the darkness of the hall ahead. "There is something I would like to show you."

This wasn't the way back to the party.

Ellana wasn't opposed- if they got in trouble Solas would handle it. “Ooh, spooky. No coat closet, then? Are we going to go find the ghost of a long-dead arl?”

“No ghosts that I have personally met,” Solas replied, offering her the bottle of wine. She took it in her far hand, tucking herself more comfortably against his side. He smiled down at her, making her heart give one of those funny little flips she liked so much, a little flutter of happiness.

“I didn't say it properly before, but you look very handsome tonight.” She nudged her hip into his, and then added just to see if she could get him to blush, “though you always look handsome.”

Yep, that worked. Smiling to herself, she was too busy admiring the flush as it crept along his cheekbone, and then she got lost in the line of his jaw for a moment. And then, well, there was all the rest that needed staring at, and maybe if she just grabbed his tie she could get in a kiss...

“We've arrived,” he told her, and she blinked back into focus, turning her attention to the rest of the room.

It was big, and open, and for a moment she wondered what it had been once upon a time. Hard to tell now, but this one still had the old, sturdy stone exposed, not covered up with plaster. It made it feel timeless, even with the low electric lights set into the floor. Each one turned up to face a mosaic, probably even older than the estate itself.

Way older.

She felt him release her hand as she stepped forward, entranced, the extremely low lights giving her just enough to see the mosaics. They gleamed like metal, tiny tiles meticulously put together. She could see the cracks from the restoration, but it didn't take away from the beauty of the pieces.

Eerie beauty, though, stylized and spare, but flowing. Some of the tiles were so small that from a distance they looked like beading, giving them the strangest appearance of mosaic and tapestry all in one. It was the eyes that arrested her, though, gazing up into a face otherwise featureless, silvery eyes reflecting more light than the rest of the piece.

“It's like...looking at a statue of something that's been out in the desert for hundreds of years," she finally decided, low and awed. “Where it's just been blasted down so long it's almost just a lump, but you can still see the essence of what it was. I didn't...that's supposed to be Dirthamen, right?”

“Yes. They were excavated from a ruin in Orlais,” Solas told her, finally moving up to join her, an arm sliding around her waist. “I thought you might like to see; I was told the restoration was nearly complete.”

“Wow, I...yes.” She finally managed to speak, moving on to examine the next one, still rather cracked, one large corner missing, but still gorgeous in its own right. “Way better than the coat closet.”

“The evening is young yet.” He took the bottle from her, and she smiled impishly, flashing him a wink that made him laugh. “D not underestimate the utility of hiding in the coat closet. We still must properly face the terrible people out there, and it may be necessary.”

“Mmh, we've got it," she replied dismissively, eyes still captivated by the ancient murals. “I can handle you, I can handle anyone.”

“I know. I am a very lucky man.”

The tone of his voice made her flush, as she glanced up and aside to meet his eyes. They held for a moment, a familiar contact now but no less intense for it. Pleased warmth settled in her belly, making her breath catch audibly. And then he smiled, slow and intimate, which just made her heart turn over in her chest.

Luckily, him tying her tongue in knots now had a very easy solution. She didn't have to fumble to find the right thing to say, she could just kiss the hell out of him.

And so she did.

[meet-you-at-the-north-star]

All-Nighter

Robert Leckie x Writer! Reader

Summary: you’re working late on a project and your eager boyfriend is being annoying. But also kinda sweet.

Notes: fluffy, a little suggestive I guess

Word count: 900

I wrote another sentence, realizing two seconds later that I hated it just as much as the rest of them. I sunk back into the chair with a groan, fingers rubbing my face and my eyelids. I briefly glanced at the clock I’d put on the table right next to my typewriter.

Almost Midnight? Was that right? I shook my head, dispelling the thought instantly. I needed to focus on the task at hand and nothing else.

Not long after my fingers were back on the keyboard again, I heard the light sound of steps behind me.

“Still not done?” the voice of my newly acquired “roommate” asked.

“If you’ve come here to make fun of me, you can go right back where you came from” I didn't take my eyes off the page, continuing to write, still in search of that rare, magical feeling when the words just seem to flew directly out of my brain.

He chuckled: “Not exactly”. He stepped closer until I could sense that he was standing right behind my chair.

“It’s getting very late, I thought you might use a break” He leaned down slowly started leaving a trail of kisses on the side of my neck, getting dangerously close to the collarbone.

“No, thank you” I gently pushed his head away with my hand, earning a disappointed groan from him.

“Come on, you’ve been sitting here for hours… as your boyfriend, I think I have a the right to be concerned about your well being” He protested.

I finally stopped typing and glanced up at him in disbelief, only to find him staring back down at me, his hands now coming to rest on my shoulders.

“Oh sure, I’m sure it’s all selfless worrying about my health on your part and you’re getting absolutely nothing out this�� I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, can a fully selfless act really exist after all?” He rebutted, clearly looking pretty satisfied with his own defense.

“Don’t get philosophical with me Leckie, you know that’s a battle you cannot win” I glared at him warningly.

He gave a hearty laugh. “It’s definitely too late for that” and then the cheeky look on his face was back, “Especially since my plans involve much better ways to spend our time”

Once again I completely ignored his attempts of seduction. “Our time? You mean my time. Tell me, how would you feel if you were running late on a really important article and I barged into the room wasting your precious time?”

“I’m not sure I’ve actually ever had that problem my-” He realized his mistake right before finishing the sentence, his eyes widening, but it was too late.

I abruptly stood up. “Out. Right now.” I began pushing him towards the door with all the strength I could muster.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to say…”

“Oh, save it, I know exactly what you meant, mr. Highly Successful Author Who Can Do No Wrong” The sarcasm was now dripping from my tone.

He’d been backing away, clearly allowing himself to be pushed as to not to anger me any further, but right at the end he stopped, grabbed my wrists and gently pushed them away.

“Please, I’m sorry, that was very insensitive of me.” He looked at me straight in the eyes and I could see please don’t hate me written all over his own.

“You’re an amazing writer and you’re absolutely going to finish this in time, despite the interferences of your idiot boyfriend” He stated softly but firmly, like a fact.

I could tell that his apology was genuine and my rage came to a halt for the moment. “That’s much better” I conceded, still processing the whole thing.

“It is?” His lips curved in an hopeful smile.

“Yeah.” I felt my body relax, the tension dissipating as quickly as it had accumulated, and I smiled back “Thank you for saying all that.”

“It’s true” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Alright. But you’re still getting out of this room and you’re not allowed to open that door for the next 30 minutes” I warned him. “Or I swear to god all you get to do tonight is sleep. Possibly on the couch.”

I saw his mouth instinctively open to protest (his most natural reaction to everything) or say something else, but he managed to control himself, confronted with the seriousness of his situation: “Yes, ma’am”

“Oh, and…Lucky? On more thing” Both my tone and expression had softened considerably and he smiled at the nickname.

“Yes?”

Without a warning, I suddenly pulled him down by his shirt and kissed him hard, locking his lips on mine and tangling both hands in his hair to pull him impossibly closer and not allow him any escape.

When we finally broke off the kiss, his eyes were closed and he was panting, his forehead resting against mine.

A rebellious curl hung in front of his eyes as I backed away and I didn't miss the opportunity to move it aside with my fingers, delicately.

“See you in half an hour” I smirked.