#i'm actually in a frenzy because of this

[r0zzk1ll]

what the actual fuck

[serenescribe]

Ficlet request this https://www.tumblr.com/serenescribe/729720441588072448/day-5-of-ficlet-requests-do-you-like-time-travel

With general lilia reaction to seeing malleus in present when in his time he’s still a egg trying to hatch him

[✐] ficlet frenzy link to previous ficlet

The very existence of the boy before him is a miracle in and of itself.

None of them understand the reason why Lilia acts the way he does, eyes constantly trailing after the fae prince and lurking behind him at a distance. None of those foolish students do, busy as they are with their trivial little tasks of learning magic, their four years spent at this paltry school flying by in the blink of a fae’s eye. Not even the prince’s companions — Baul’s supposed grandson, Lilia’s supposed… future son, and his own flighty, witless older self, senile and losing his mind — understand his strange compulsion, the attraction he feels towards the Draconia heir.

Simply put, Lilia has never expected for Malleus to even exist.

He’d been entrusted with the egg in a last ditch effort, forced to watch his closest companion, Meleanor herself, fly off into a fruitless battle that would surely spell her doom. Lilia had spent years after that — the years melding into decades, until a century had passed — curled around the egg, trying everything he could to ensure it hatched. But such a thing was impossible, he had believed; after all, the offspring of draconic fae could only ever hatch with an outpouring of love, wreathed in warm affection until its shell finally cracked.

That is, until Lilia had somehow wound up in the future, wound up here.

Even now, the sight of Malleus still steals his breath away. He resembles so much of his mother — the twisting horns, those striking chartreuse eyes, the raven gloss of his hair. Though he is calmer, quieter, with a more pensive disposition than his mother ever had, there are things that resemble an echo of his parentage: the rage that manifests itself in thunder and lightning; the undeniable power radiating off of them in waves, a strength of magic most could only dream of having; but most of all, the kindness they wield, whether sweet or cruel, hidden by a temperament that makes them unapproachable to most.

Can anyone really fault him then, for feeling most at ease around the young prince?

Lilia studies him whenever he’s able to, when the young prince goes for walks through the campus, or even when he approaches Lilia himself in his little woodland campsite. Though Malleus resembles Meleanor in so many ways, there are other aspects of him that are wholly unfamiliar to Lilia. Above all else, there is his unwavering trust in humanity, a belief in the better facets of them that Meleanor never shared. It is a peculiarity that Lilia’s older self also wields — and he had been stunned when Malleus had informed him that it was he, himself, who taught him to seek peace with mankind.

Even now, it still feels like an impossibility to wrap his head around.

And yet…

The more time he spends with Malleus, conversing in a tranquil silence, listening as he regales Lilia with numerous tales — of his long, lonely childhood, of the years that Baul’s grandson and his supposed future son spent growing up, of the three short years spent at Night Raven College — the more Lilia thinks he can understand his older self.

It’s something for him to think about, at least, when he finally makes it back to his time.

[palestporn]

==>We're okay

We're okay

We're okay

Pale for you

==> MISSION DEBRIEF: Complete ==> Restart?

[neallo]

ugh okay yeah now i've thought too much about writing and am making myself feel very weird and bad. i think it is sleep tiem

[moinsbienquekaworu]

How have I been in fandom for - going on 8 years (?) and not gotten into fanvids before?? All the association I could have been making.... All the memories.... All the composition and clever editing....

[an-android-child]

¡JAJA! YOU HAVE ACTIVATED MY AUTISM TRAP CARD

SPECIAL INTEREST

SO, first let's get to Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne's clusterfuck of a relationship.

As everyone will tell you, comic's canon is like gender: a social construct. If anyone tries to tell you there's a main canon they're lying to you. It's true that the comics TRY to market it as such, and we've been through so many reboots and continuities that I believe the present default is, literally, that everything is canon, depending on what the writer or story calls for. Which is as confusing as it sounds, and has been regarded as, possibly, the move of all time.

And I want to make it explicitly clear that I am not taking Elseworlds (official dc aus for their ocs, like Batman being a pirate and shit like that) into account. This is literally all "main continuity" in all its rebooted as shit glory. I'll specify what continuity I mean, but basically know that every once in a while DC has the compulsive need to kill off their entire character universe and start it all again "from the beginning", except it's literally never that because half of this reboots need the reader to know the characters already, so what's the point, and that they tend to just make everything worse and deliver the most dumb possible comic events in history, with few exceptions. But that's a personal opinion and it literally doesn't matter.

At the end of the day, here's the thing. There are... A shit ton of interpretations about their relationship, because it literally varies from writer to writer. No, I'm not kidding.

Let's start from the beginning. Literally.

First Main Universe

Detective Comics (1937) #38

Writer: Bill Finger

The first appearance of Dick Grayson is hilarious because it doesn't mention any legal procedure regarding anything related to the fact that Dick's an orphan now. Batman sees a traumatized child and thinks "is anybody gonna kidnap that" and doesn't wait for an answer. There's no real label for their relationship either, aside from the cover's vague remark of "taken under his mantle", and literally those two panels where it implies that Dick will be working with Bruce as an aide or something. Or better said, that they will be going on adventures together lmao. I mean, I guess.

Also unrelated but I love the fact that Bruce caves like a wet paper towel for his kids so much, even at the beginning. No, you can't be a crime fighter vigilante, wait no no don't look at me like that here I'll train you for months here's my secret identity and all my money please come live at my very big and lonely mansion

Detective Comics (1937) # 39 & #43 & #47

Writer: Bill Finger

So yeah, for a while, the og Batman writer basically referred to Dick as an aide. Whatever that means. Unpaid internship go brrrrrrrr.

Detective Comics (1937) #40

Writer: Bill Finger

But even from the beginning, it was obvious that their relationship was special and that they cared for each other. Hell, Dick was the first person to ever know Batman's secret identity. That's a huge ass deal. Not even his fiancé knew. Before Alfred even existed, Dick Grayson was already living in that house lmao.

Detective Comics (1937) #41

Writer: Bill Finger

The FIRST ever mention of any type of legal relationship between them is this off-hand comment made when they're trying to infiltrate a boarding school to find some killer I can't remember the name of. I place some legitimacy in it because they're literally going as Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson, no disguises. When did Bruce do the paperwork for this? When did the trial take place? Who knows! It will be explained. Later. Somewhat. Don't think about it.

As time progressed, the relationship became more explicitly parental. You could argue this was because of the controversy, but whatever it may be for, Bruce doesn't shy away from telling/showing Dick how much he loves him. He also does it when he thinks no one's paying much attention to him lol

Batman (1940) #20 (this issue is very cute)

Writer: Bill Finger

Batman (1940) #66

Writer: Bill Finger

Sometimes though, he would insist they were just the best of friends.

Detective Comics (1937) #166

Writer: Don C. Cameron (i'm not sure if it's really him, but i can't find any other sources claiming any other writer, and it kinda seems like his writing style)

Ironically, Dick seems to be the one to insist they're just good friends the most, which I find an interesting choice.

Batman (1940) #3 & #20 & #118

Writer: Bill Finger

Except... When he doesn't.

Batman (1940) #57

Writer: Bill Finger

Batman (1940) #339

Writer: Gerry Conway

Either way, don't be fooled. No matter what, this little guy cares.

Batman (1940) #13 (in this story Bruce is just pulling off a ruse with a dummy so Dick doesn't get killed, but instead of telling him he leaves the house lmao. Also, oh, the irony)

Writer: Bill Finger

The general consensus though, if there's anything like that in a world as cruel as this one, is that Dick was never formally adopted, just taken in as a ward. This was because, in the 40's, single men couldn't adopt even if they wanted to, so that was the next best thing. But that's another entire can of worms.

So yeah, Dick was never really adopte-

Detective Comics (1937) #145

Writer: Don C. Cameron (again, I can't be sure, but the comic references two other issues written by him, and I'll eat my left shoe if it's anyone else)

Yeah let's just. Let's just move on.

Second Main Universe

In the second universe, things start getting messy. Writers have decided angst is what they want, and their relationship becomes way more rocky. They fight, Dick becomes Nightwing, Bruce gets his back broken, Jason fucking dies, not in that order. Y'know the drill. The focus on father and son shifts, but let's start with the basics.

For some context, in this universe Dick isn't adopted, but Bruce is his legal guardian.

The Untold Legend of the Batman (1980) #2

Writer: Len Wein

So yeah, Dick isn't adopte-

Robin (1993) #0 (thank you so much @northoftheroad for helping me find this instance!!! there are way too many comics sometimes lmaoo. i recommend her blog so much, and she specializes in Dick's whole comic history)

Writer: Chuck Dixon

Ignore that.

He's just a ward-

Robin (1993) Annual #4

Writer: Chuck Dixon (IS HE ADOPTED OR NOT DIXON)

Ignore that.

I meant foster chil-

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (1989) #100

Writer: Dennis O'Neil

Fuck.

Look. This is a mess, we both know it. Let's pretend consistency is a thing that exists and that DC gives a shit about it.

In the second universe, Dick ISN'T adopted, and doesn't care much that he hasn't bee-

Tales of the Teen Titans (1984) #50

Writers: Marv Wolfman & George Pérez

I actually meant that he cares and wants to be Bruce's so-

Batman (1940) #439

Writer: Marv Wolfman

I mean, he was a child when he said that! Character development I guess! In a way! It's the same author. I don't understand the point of the conversation at the wedding if Dick literally asked him not to. I can get behind tha-

Secret Origins (1986) #13 (thank you so much @tiffanybluesclues for helping me find this instance!!! they have this super fricking cool meta i can't recoomend enough if you want to see more clearly for yourself what Bruce's and Dick's whole deal is about lmao)

Writer: Dan Mishkin

Okay this is getting ridic-

Batman (1940) #217

Writer: Frank Robbins

YEAH. WHY NOT

DID I MENTION THAT THIS UNIVERSE TRIES FOR THE BROTHER ANGLE. Except when it doesn't.

In the First Universe we had the best friends angle, now we have the brother one. They want to keep Bruce young so bad, even at the cost of consistency.

Robin (1993) Annual #4

Writer: Chuck Dixon

And also the best friend angle. Again. Because of course we do.

All this mess is just the first two universes and I'm leaving so many details out. Jesus Fuck.

Third Main Universe

The universe I was referencing, the one where Dick is adopted by Bruce as an adult, is the third main continuity. From one of my favourite comic writers (who was done so dirty, and I'll never forgive some fans for how they treat her, or DC editorial for not letting her finish her Nightwing story properly).

Batman: Gotham Knights (2000) #17 (this issue was released in 2001)

Writer: Devin Grayson (my beloved)

You'd think this would be a pivotal moment for their relationship, in the sense that it would shape how other authors wrote them from then on. As times have changed, the focus on a much more character driven story has been the cause for many changes in DC comics. One of the reasons the Second Universe was so full of angst (not as much as people make it out to be, but way more than we were used to), was precisely that fact. And now, in the present, one could argue the focus is still there, perhaps even more so. You'd think this would mark the end of an era, the beginning of another. You'd be correct, in literally any other circumstance.

But this is DC.

52 (2006) #30 (this issue was released in 2007)

Writers: Geoff Johns & Grant Morrison & Greg Rucka & Mark Waid

Batman and Robin (2009) #7 (this issue was released in 2010)

Writer: Grant Morrison

Batman (1940) #713 (this issue was released in 2011)

Writer: Fabian Nicieza

This will always be DC.

Fourth Main Universe

Nightwing (2011) #0

Writers: Kyle Higgins & Tom DeFalco

So, yeah. Canon is a social construct. Some writers see them as brothers, some as best friends, some as equals, some as father and son, some as fricking colleagues, and I'm sure you can find someone who sees them as lovers. This is literally a pick your poison type of deal here.

And all of this. All of this just to talk about Dick and Bruce. I have barely even touched the present continuity (the fourth one, I'm not counting soft reboots because everytime a new writer appears it is a soft reboot istG). I haven't even gotten to Jason.

I'll do a part two in the reblogs later about him, lmao. Probably make my own post as not to clog op's notes (this was supposed to be a short answer and it got way too long)

If you want some recs about a character in particular, or a specific type of relationship, feel free to hit me up! I'll see what I can find

dick and jason trying to give tim the crash course on what it's like to be robin, except tim leaves the conversation more confused than he was before, because everyone quickly had the realisation that there was. definitely a favourite child

dick goes on about how bruce's teachings gave him healthy outlets for his grief and anger etc etc, whilst jason's very much confused because he was kinda under the impression that robin was an outlet for bruce's feelings.

dick says that the father-mentor ratio was really well balanced during his time as robin, and bruce always saw him as a son first. and jason's just like "....i didn't even know he saw me as his son until after i died????"

[heirofnight]

finally

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 4.6k - this one's a doozy, buckle up.

based on this request: Hi hi can I get an angsty Azriel x fem!reader fic. Basically they’re mates but they don’t have the best relationship for whatever reason. Rhysand sends them on a mission somewhere and somehow Azriels mind gets taken over and he attacks reader. She doesn’t want to leave Azriel even though he begs her to before he lost control because despite everything she did love him. Reader ends up getting hurt but was thankfully able to reach out to Rhysand in time. Rhysand then clears Azriels mind from whatever was done to him. Azriel ofc beats himself up over it, but then they kiss and makeup.

content warnings: talk of death, reader gets attacked, choking

a/n: this was a TRIP to write. for all of you requesting angst, i'm serving it on a silver platter. i hope you love it! first time writing a fic based on a request, so i hope i did it justice. let me know what you think! as always, lightly edited. pls ignore any mistakes <3

"are you serious?", you spat out, scoffing in disbelief. you crossed your arms across your chest immediately, your body language depicting just how frustrated you were.

azriel stood next to you, keeping way too much distance for a male that was apparently, allegedly your mate.

some mate, you sneered within your swirling mind. you'd both still refused to accept the bond, and if anything, it had just made the already avoidant relationship between the both of you even worse.

you were convinced that this was some sort of divine mistake, there was simply no way that azriel was your mate. we have absolutely nothing in common, another brief thought that had you glancing at him from the corner of your peripheral - just to find him standing in the exact same stance that you currently held. arms crossed, body language defensive, expression stoic.

you cleared your throat and quickly dropped your arms to your sides, straightening your spine before meeting rhys' violet gaze once more. his eyes sparkled with amusement, knowing exactly what you were thinking. whether you were that transparent, or he had actually caught you with your mental shields down - you didn't know. the wards within your mind were the least of your concerns right now.

"i am absolutely serious, i'm afraid", rhys smirked, enjoying the entertainment of watching both you and azriel spiral towards an inevitable juvenile skirmish. especially at his own hand.

azriel huffed a frustrated breath, his shadows becoming more frenzied as they ebbed and flowed around his body. you glanced at him once more, noticed the way his wings had drooped in defeat. you found yourself beginning to admire his side profile, his sculpted, pretty features calling to you in a moment of weakness. you quickly averted your gaze.

you'd never claimed he wasn't attractive, that much about him was painfully obvious. and since he was - unfortunately - your mate, there were moments where it felt as though every fiber, cell, and atom of your body were screaming for his. you'd wondered if he ever felt the same.

"rhys, this is ridiculous. there is no reason for her to join me. i never have help on missions - i never need it," his words grew more strained as he spoke, his last words ending in a near-snarl.

you rolled your eyes at his arrogance, throwing your hands up in exasperation before letting them slap against your thighs. "oh, i'm so sorry, azriel. how could i possibly offer any significant knowledge or assistance with this job, when you're already the most wisest, skilled, and capable male ever gifted by the gods? how can any of us forget - we pale in comparison to the all-feared shadowsinger," your tone was mocking as you turned towards him, cheeks reddening in exasperation.

azriel met your gaze, eyes narrowed as he deadpanned, "most wise".

you narrowed your own gaze to match his, "what?", you scoffed out.

"you said most wisest. that makes no sense. i believe you meant most wise," he stated dryly, tone emotionless.

your cheeks reddened further, expression twisting into one of pure anger. it didn't help that you heard rhys struggling to hold back a bark of laughter.

"okay, honestly, fuck yo-", you began, ready to spit pure venom straight into his veins with your words.

"enough," rhys commanded, voice booming. you froze, huffing out a breath before looking over at the high lord - he was now standing, his hands braced against the surface of his desk. his eyes held no amusement, no laughter. he was fed up.

"you are to both deploy on this mission. you are to both work together to track down this rebel group of daemati, and you are to both report back here with your findings. you keep each other safe. you work together. and you stop this childish bickering," rhys stated, his tone taking on a quality of pure nobility.

he looked between both you and azriel with striking violet eyes. "you leave tomorrow. am i clear?", the high lord questioned, and you knew he required an answer.

"yes," you and your mate replied at the same time, in the same brooding tone. rhys quirked an eyebrow at that, smirking slyly.

"great. have fun, you two," he gave a swooping gesture with his arm in dismissal.

the next morning, you and azriel departed right after breakfast. it was a shared - albeit silent - meal, and you found yourself glancing up at him behind the rim of your glass every single time you took a sip. you didn't know it, but azriel was sparing you the same glances as he ate his porridge.

the rebel group of daemati were last known to be located near the northern edge of the day court's borders - nearing the court of nightmares. the plan was to teleport close to the border itself, and you and azriel both knew that you'd more than likely have to track them from that location to wherever they were now.

you'd left from the house of wind's balcony after eating - azriel reluctantly placing a large hand on your shoulder before teleporting you both in a blanket of darkness and swirling shadows.

once the shadows dissipated, you'd found yourselves in a chilled, heavily wooded patch of forest. you blinked a few times, gaining your bearings. before your eyes had even fully focused on where you were, azriel was stalking off to your left, already on the prowl.

you rolled your eyes, jogging after him in order to catch up. "is your plan to 'accidentally' lose me in the woods?", you sneered, your legs burning as you tried to keep up with his long strides. you crouched down hastily to avoid a low-hanging branch that almost collided with your cheek. you'd been too busy glaring at the side of azriel's head to notice it.

he huffed, his boots crunching against fallen leaves. "keep up, and you won't get lost," he offered, his shadows darting out ahead of him to scout the surrounding area for traces of your target.

you grumbled, eyeing his smoky tendrils as they swirled in different directions. "prick," you said under your breath, pushing another branch out of your path.

you could have sworn you saw the corner of his lips quirk upward at your comment, an action that you would have almost found endearing if it weren't for the current situation you found yourself in. as much as you didn't want to admit it to yourself, you were nervous. you'd never been on a mission, especially not one that felt as high stakes as this one. daemati were dangerous. able to enter, control - and if trained enough, completely shatter - minds without so much as blinking. sure, as a scholar, you'd had brief knowledge on how to handle their kind, but coming across one daemati was rare - much less an entire pissed off group of them.

this could end terribly. and you did not want to be the one to sabotage this outing.

one single coil of shadow darted back towards azriel, whispering against the shell of his ear. "this way," he pointed to your right with a scarred hand, and you adjusted your path accordingly. you found your gaze following his hand as he lowered it to his side once more, and azriel glanced down, noticing where your eyes had landed.

he felt his pulse quicken, not sure what to make of your sudden interest in his hands. it was already an insecurity of his, and he knew that you'd not be shy to prey on that fact.

he cleared his throat, running that same hand through his hair in order to break your gaze. you inhaled a sharp breath, realizing you'd been caught. you opted to stare straight ahead instead, the normal silence between the both of you now feeling awkward.

should you say something? you didn't want him to think you'd been looking at the skin of his hands in disgust. it was the furthest thing from the truth. and while you weren't the hugest fan of his, you would never think poorly of him in regards to his trauma.

"i -," you started, clearing your own throat now. he glanced over at you from the corner of his eye, not urging you to finish.

"i've always thought they were beautiful - your hands," you said sincerely, voice nothing more than a whisper that you were certain a gust of wind could carry away on a breeze - never to be heard.

he took a deep breath, blowing it out through his nose harshly.

"thank you," he said softly, nodding once.

a lifeline, that's what it felt like.

my mate, he thought to himself, trudging forward.

you'd both continued on in comfortable silence for the next few hours. the bundle of nerves in the pit of your stomach was beginning to unravel, and you had to admit: you felt safe with azriel. not that you'd assumed he'd leave you for dead at any point during this mission - at the very least, rhys had commanded he return you to velaris safely. even if azriel somehow personally wanted you dead, he wouldn't defy his high lord's orders.

regardless, you were beginning to feel safe alongside him on your own accord.

a few times, you'd attempted to speak. pointing out various birds that you'd seen perched in the high branches of trees, or remarking on types of flowers that you'd walk past - many of which weren't native to velaris. azriel would notice the way your voice perked up as you spoke of them, noticed a certain kind of wistful joy that crept into your eyes, widening your pupils.

his own gaze began to soften as he observed you, finding your wholesome awe endearing. he listened carefully as you passionately explained each finding. cute, he'd thought briefly, warming up to your company. your hair whipped around you on a stray breeze, a strand catching right across your nose. his hand twitched, the urge to effortlessly brush it from your face filling him to the brim. but before he was able to build up the courage to do so, you'd beat him to it, and his hand stilled.

you were just about to point out yet another bird flying across the dusk-dusted sky when a familiar tendril of shadow approached azriel's ear.

"silence," he whispered in a hushed tone, halting his steps. he tensed up alongside you, his wings pulling in tightly at his back.

you closed your mouth, swallowing what you'd meant to say. you froze in place slightly behind him, waiting with shallow breaths for his next order.

"up ahead," he whispered, nodding his chin towards what looked to be a plume of smoke rising into the chilled air. your eyes followed the path of his gaze, and you squinted to make out the scene before you.

azriel crouched next to your still-standing form as he attempted to get a better look from a different angle.

it appeared to be a campsite of some sort - whoever was stationed there had clearly decided to stop traveling for the evening. the sun was quickly lowering behind the mountain range in the distance, and the air was even more frigid than when you'd both begun your trek. you felt a shiver wrack through your body, and azriel glanced up at you, frowning slightly.

he watched as you studied the growing fire before the both of you, his gaze lingering for just a second too long. you looked down at him, your eyes meeting for the first time all day. your breath hitched at the eye contact, and you faltered for a moment.

"so do we-", you spoke quietly.

"let's just-", he spoke at the same time.

you smiled warmly, dropping your head and huffing out a laugh.

he smirked, grabbing your wrist gently to pull you down to his level. "my shadows picked up on a few daemati tracks. i'm assuming its a small group - they must have decided to stop here for the evening. i'm guessing it's four, maybe five of them," he explained in a hushed tone, his eyes finding the campsite once more.

you thought for a moment, observing him.

"so, what's the best way to go about this?", you asked, voice soft.

he was about to reply, but his body froze, mouth poised to speak but nothing emerged.

there was a momentary pause before his expression transformed into one of pain, pure agony. he grunted, bracing his arms against the ground beneath him. his eyes were screwed shut in pain.

you startled, falling back onto your butt as you took in the scene before you with wide eyes.

no, no no no.

you supposed your brain knew what was happening before your body could react.

and that's when you felt it, a stifling, world-ending level of pain - unrelenting pain that felt so real, so true. but it wasn't your own pain. it was azriel's, through the white-hot golden bond that tethered the two of you together. until this moment, azriel had made sure to keep his emotions sequestered from you - you had done the same. out of pure spite, disdain for the cauldron's decision to fuse the two of you together for eternity.

until this moment. when azriel opened the floodgates of his own mind, letting you in. warning you.

"az," you breathed out, moving to rest a hand on his shoulder in gut-wrenching fear.

he gritted his teeth, letting out a horrible groan of distress.

"leave," he gnashed out, his voice strained. he let out another roar of pain.

you shook your head, eyes wide and pained.

"no, azriel. no. i'm not," you said sternly, voice watery.

"y/n," he forced out, nails digging into the dirt beneath him as he fought the intrusion of the daemati.

"y/n," he repeated, groaning once more, "it has me. it's going to make me hurt you," he strained, "you have to go. contact rhys, and go," he fell onto his side, wings flaring in exertion.

you scrambled towards him, placing a hand on his forehead. your heart was beating so rapidly, you were half-expecting it to leap from your throat and join azriel's form on the dampened ground.

all you could do was shake your head, over and over and over.

"no, no, no," you whispered, eyes filling with tears. you felt a fear so absolute, wholly understanding right then the pure agony that crawled into every crevice when the person on the other end of that golden rope was in danger. you couldn't leave him, you refused. every fiber of your being rebuked the thought. you peered down at his writhing form, his face pinched in pain. he was still the most beautiful male you'd ever seen.

you let out a gutteral noise of distress. you wasted so much time - so much time resenting azriel. fighting with him. throwing jabs at him. hating the gods, the cauldron, for linking the two of you. for what?

all that time wasted, and now his mind was no longer his. you would never get to express your love for the male before you - never get to experience the love that the both of you so immensely deserved.

"azriel," you choked out, pressing your shaking hands to every part of his body you could possibly touch. you glanced up, surveying your surroundings quickly. that's when you saw him, the daemati.

he'd kept his distance, but you made out the shape of his dark form within the trees. you couldn't even see his face, but you could clearly see the way his head tilted to the right, unnaturally slow. he was using his powers to fully infiltrate azriel's mind.

but your mate was putting up a fight. your strong, powerful mate.

azriel was doing everything within his power to not succumb to the daemati's will, his body feeling like it was going to split in half. the pain, the unrelenting, bone crushing pain, was enough to make him wish he could somehow force himself completely unconscious.

and still, through it all, he could not tear his thoughts away from you. a dangerous game, as he was dealing with a species of fae that was literally able to break into the walls of his mind, utilizing his deepest fears against him.

and right now, his biggest fear was losing you. hurting you.

he roared out, blue siphons blazing, vibrating against his skin.

one singular mantra stamped itself through his mind as he attempted to fight off the daemati clawing at his iron-clad wards long enough to convince you to flee, to leave him there to suffer alone - just as he always had:

my mate, fight for your mate, keep her safe, fight for your mate, keep her safe, my mate

you froze, mesmerized by the form that was tearing azriel's mind apart chamber-by-chamber.

then, it happened, and it happened quickly: azriel, now fully under its control, lunged toward you. he tackled you backwards, into the dirt and leaves beneath the both of you.

you screamed, bracing your hands against his chest. you dared to look into his hazel eyes, orbs that were no longer his own.

what you saw terrified you. pupils blown wide.

death himself.

a large, scarred hand found its way to your throat, and you thrashed wildly beneath him. he was unphased by the fight you tried to give him - he was too strong, and you were too scared.

rhys, rhys please, you chanted into your mind, hoping somehow he'd be able to hear you. it was a long shot - you knew that. you'd never once communicated with rhys mind-to-mind, but it was your only chance.

you were going to die at the hands of your mate. and it all felt so ironic, since azriel hated you anyway.

rhys, please, your pleads grew frantic, and azriel's hand gripped tighter around your neck.

the edges of your vision began to go dark, and you grabbed azriel's chin, peering into his eyes with all of the strength that you could muster. "azriel. it's me. it's y/n - it's your mate. please, az. i'm so sorry for everything," you strained against his grip, throat tightening. you wouldn't be conscious for much longer. if there was any chance that he - the real him - could hear you, you had to try to get through.

"i'm so, so sorry, az," you spluttered out, eyes growing heavy.

you sent one more plead to rhys through your mind before everything went dark.

your eyes fluttered open slowly, a groan leaving your throat before you were even fully awake. your neck ached, the skin there burned. your whole body felt tense, tight, and stiff.

you blinked, eyes heavy, trying to take in your surroundings. you recognized the ceiling above you, knew that the soft sheets pulled up to your chin were the ones adorning your bed at the house of wind.

you were home. you were alive.

the events with azriel, the forest - the daemati - came rushing back at full-speed, leaving you breathless. you tried to sit up, but your entire body screamed with the sudden movement.

fuck.

"there she is," you heard a familiar silk-coated voice. rhys. you glanced over towards the sound, and found the high lord perched in an armchair next to your bed.

"rhys," you spoke hoarsely. he stood then, approaching your side with feline grace.

he smiled down at you, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

"quite a fan of the dramatics, aren't you, y/n," he teased soothingly, taking a seat on the side of your mattress gently. "you had all of us frightened half to death," he added, surveying your face as he took note of your current state.

you groaned quietly, raising a hand to feel at your throat. it was obviously bruised - you didn't need to see it to know that.

"azriel," you whispered hoarsely, shaking your head to yourself. you were safe, so surely azriel must be too ... right? the thought of anything otherwise had your stomach lurching. you felt for the bond, felt for azriel's presence, and were met with emptiness - just like you had been until the daemati attacked.

"azriel is just fine, y/n," rhys spoke gently, a knowing tone in his voice. "i heard you, that day in the forest. i arrived just in time. it took a few days, but...," he trailed off, moving a strand of hair from your face, "but i was able to completely heal az from the damage the daemati caused," he finished, letting out an exhale.

you felt tears springing to your eyes immediately, unable to control your reaction to the news. "i'm so sorry, rhys," you choked out, a shaky breath escaping through your nose.

"now, now," he soothed, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. "none of that, none of that at all," he continued, eyes softening as he met your broken gaze.

"you did nothing wrong, y/n. you stayed at the side of your mate, even in the face of lethal danger. you summoned me," he paused for a moment, watching you.

"you didn't allow him to experience that alone. and while you staying there may not have been the ... most wisest ... thing to do," rhys teased, referencing your last conversation amongst the two males, "i still commend you. i, myself, have not made the smartest decisions where feyre's safety is concerned," he wiped another tear threatening to cascade onto your sheets.

you let out a watery laugh at his teasing, shaking your head.

"he hates me, rhys," you whispered, eyes finding the ceiling once more.

rhys let out a dry chuckle at your statement, sighing to himself.

"on the contrary, y/n, i think you'll find that az feels the complete opposite," he whispered, voice lilting.

you met his gaze, eyes narrowing.

just then, there was a gentle knock on your bedroom door. one that was made with the intention to not disturb your sleeping, healing form.

the door opened, and azriel crept in, wings pulled together against his back in order to avoid jostling any of your shelved belongings. he was trying to be as silent as possible, not yet aware that you were awake.

"i brought a glass of water, rhys, just in case she wak-," his words caught in his throat once his eyes made their way to yours. your opened, very awake, eyes.

"i have some very important paperwork to attend to," rhys spoke. "numbers to run, high lord duties - things of that nature," he grinned slyly, removing himself from your beside and strutting towards the door. he turned back towards you before leaving, bowing his head once. "i'm glad that you're okay, y/n. please let me know if you need anything," he said gently, before making his exit.

azriel still stood off to the side, frozen. his eyes were fused to the bruise that spanned your throat - a bruise that was in the shape of his own hand.

"hi," you whispered hoarsely, clearing your throat.

"i'm so....- i am so fucking sorry, y/n," azriel whispered, stunned. his grip tightened around the glass of water in his hand, and you were momentarily concerned that it may splinter under the pressure.

"az," you began to speak, scooting your body up against the row of pillows propped behind you. "we both know that none of this is your fault. you fought it, i saw-," you pleaded, eyebrows cinched.

"no," he cut you off, voice stern, but quiet.

"no," he repeated, stepping towards you. "i should have never allowed rhysand to send you out on a mission this dangerous. there is no excuse. i could have killed...", he trailed off, approaching you almost hesitantly, as if he were scared to get too close. "i could have killed you," he finished, voice strained and full of regret.

you shook your head, reaching for him now, and he approached you. a moth to a flame. he set the glass of water down and allowed you to take his hand. the same one that was wrapped around your neck just days ago.

"this hand, a hand that i find so beautiful, this hand that belongs to you - my mate - would have never done this to me. and i know that," you whispered, tearing up once more.

he dropped his head, wings drooping - the very tips touching the floor.

he squeezed your hand once, sitting on your bedside dejectedly.

"i heard you," he whispered after a short pause. "i heard you begging me to stop. i just couldn't -,"

"i know," you cut him off, not wanting him to spiral into a pit of despair that would engulf him entirely.

his shadows began to lazily twirl around him, a few breaking away from his body in favor of worrying over you instead.

he loosed a deep breath, staring at the floor for awhile. you allowed him to ponder, think through all of the horrible events of the last few days. as awful as your attack was, you couldn't begin to imagine the toll it took on azriel. his mind was infiltrated, ripped apart, and his body was no longer his. you could not even fathom it.

"the daemati made me attack you because he knew we were mates. he sensed the bond. and ...-," he trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief, "he knew how important your safety was to me. he got into my head, and into my thoughts. he saw how important you are," he whispered, finding your eyes.

your eyes shut, a tear escaping from the corners. he reached out a hand, a sure hand.

he wouldn't allow another moment to pass where he wanted to touch you, but held himself back.

you felt him wipe the tears away, his touch so gentle, it made your chest ache.

"i am sorry, you know," you whispered, sniffling. "i'm sorry for all the shit i've given you. i truly never resented the mating bond as much as i let on. it was just-...", you shook your head, eyes fluttering open once more to find his honeyed gaze. "it was a defense mechanism, because i knew you didn't want the bond, didn't want me, and i didn't want to look stupid - pining after a male that was ashamed of me," you rushed out, cheeks tinting pink at the confession.

his brows furrowed, and he huffed out a breath as he shook his head slowly, "y/n," he started, letting out this dry ghost of a laugh - although it lacked any humor. "no, that's not it at all. i was ... elated, to learn that you were my mate. but i thought that you wouldn't want me. after all this time, i'd come to terms with the fact that i would never ... never find my mate. our paths wouldn't cross, or i'd somehow get myself killed before i could find her," he paused for a moment, shaking his head. "but, no. i was ecstatic. especially because it was you. so full of fire and strength. beautiful - agonizingly so. your excitement for life radiates from your very core. i was, and still am, so proud to have been paired with you. i couldn't have chosen anyone better," he admitted, his eyes soft and full of adoration.

you were absolutely crying now, and your grip on his hand tightened as you let out a soft sob.

"we're such idiots," you croaked out, a hand coming up to cover your eyes.

he let out a soft laugh then, his own eyes becoming watery.

"perfect for each other. two idiot mates," he offered, a real, true smile spreading across his dimpled cheeks.

you laughed along with him, bringing his scarred knuckles up to your lips to nuzzle along them softly. the action made azriel still for a moment, and you felt an overwhelming wave of full, adoring emotions and bright, fizzling warmth hurdle directly into your chest. his emotions. he'd opened his side of the bond once more, but this time, for a very different reason. your wide eyes found his, and you returned the sentiment. you sent every ounce of love, unbridled and true, right into his chest. his breathing became ragged, his bottom lip quivering at the feeling. he was so loved, and gods, so were you.

you tugged on that golden string that was directly connected to the pit of his chest, tied right around his heart. he leaned towards you on instinct, and he knew at that moment that he would follow wherever you led him.

"my mate," he whispered, reaching down to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

you tilted your head up slightly, your full lips finding his own.

"finally," you whispered against his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to his waiting lips.

a/n: well, this one took 3 hours and cracked me in half along the way. if you made it this far, pls lmk what you thought! thanks for reading <3

[velvetwyrme]

which deception would have an sti AND fuck cars?

in reference to: https://www.tumblr.com/penny-anna/767952128217104384/imagine-youre-a-mechanic-in-the-transformers?source=share

okay. so. first off. anon, thank you for sending me this because the idea that you read that post and just went- "hey, you know who i should pose this question to?" and sent it to me- is hysterical and i lvoe u.

anyway theres also a Texty answer under the cut if you want to read that, because i genuinely DO have thoughts about this, but i wanted to draw that comic because this ask made me laugh very hard when i saw it in my inbox.

also, the thrilling conclusion of the comic answer:

he fucked that car!!!!!!!

hi! Texty time. I think a lot of them would have/be one but not the other (either has a STI or is a Carfucker) but i included some of those here anyway because i think my thought process was funny for some of them. this is all purely my own opinions etc. etc. no basis for anything only vibes. i went through a lot of options and came to a lot of conclusions.

to reiterate the Chart for claritys sake:

Soundwave: No STI and no Carfucking. This is true across all versions of Soundwave imo. Rumble and Frenzy are a solid no on the STI front and a solid yes on the Carfucking.

Starscream: no STI, no Carfucking (despite what Soundwave thinks). TFP!Starscream specifically might have an STI though. Sorry man. Skywarp definitely has/had a STI but gets it treated on account of his trinemates. No Carfucking. Thundercracker would fuck a car but doesn't have an STI.

Shockwave: ??? - I'm not sure I want to know. "Once, as part of an experiment" was the original thing I wrote for his answer lol. True across continuities as well.

Anyway. moving on...

My actual answer for Megatron: REALLY depends on continuity. Here's a sample:

G1? Yeah, probably both. I can see it.

IDW/MTMTE? Nah. Maybe? ... Nah. I feel like if he had an STI it'd have been back when he was a miner. Would not fuck a car.

Earthspark? I feel like no STI but yes to the Carfucking. Except he feels really guilty about it after. I still haven't watched ES but this is the impression I get from him.

TFA? oh god. i don't know... i don't know....... he probably fucks cars. No STI.

TFP? Yeah absolutely are u kidding me? Yes to both.

Constructicons: I feel like they'd be a yes to both, but not at the same time, so they wouldn't have been the one/s to transmit a STI to a car. Also Hook would be ON TOP of treatment. Once they ALL got infected after combining into Devastator, and that was miserable for everyone. Nobody has fessed up to being the one who had it in the first place, but now they have treatment on hand just in case.

Also while on the topic of combiners... I think some of the Stunticons are also pretty good candidates for STI/Carfucking. Motormaster, Drag Strip and Wildrider in particular shfkgbekfbk

I considered Tarn/The DJD and Overlord just because of how freaky them guys can get, but I think Tarn runs too tight a ship for that to happen, and Overlord is preoccupied with. worse things. The Scavengers on the other hand... sorry to Misfire, I can see him giving a car a STI. Relatedly, Grimlock would fuck a car but not have an STI.

Who else................................ wait.

Astrotrain. I can see it. Okay bye im going to sleep this took me too long to reply to fhfjfbrmfbdj

[my-castles-crumbling]

tomorrow - @rosekillermicrofic - word count: 579 - NSFW

Barty was going insane. Like, clinically losing his mind.

He had been doing fine. Wonderfully, actually. Until, almost twenty-four hours ago, Pandora had stopped dead, looked him in the eye, and said simply, "You and Evan will kiss tomorrow."

And when Pandora said shit like that, she was never wrong.

So now he was going crazy. Questioning his every move and thought and emotion. Did he want to kiss Evan? Did he like Evan? Did Evan like him?

Maybe he was overthinking. Maybe it would be some stupid dare or a spell gone wrong.

But as the hours ticked away and no random truth-or-dare games seemed to be staring, Barty's ruminating mind started adjusting to the thought: either he would kiss Evan or Evan would kiss him.

He looked over at his best friend, who was currently studying at a nearby table, contemplating. Admiring his admittedly nice-looking lips. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to kiss him. Nice, even. He thought about it some more. The way it would feel, for Evan's tongue piercing to run over his own lips, the firm metal bar pressing into his skin. The way Evan's hands might grab his arms or waist.

He shivered. No. It was odd to think of his friend this way. He had to get the idea out of his mind.

But Pandora's words didn't leave him and he began to look at Evan again.

He wondered idly, letting his imagination take over, if Evan might press him against a wall. Suck on his neck and bite him with sharp incisors. Then, of course, he would have to return the favor, flipping them around and sucking into Evan's admittedly-delectable looking collarbone. Only because he started it.

But of course, this was all stupid. Right?

He wished it would just happen already. It would probably just be a stupid peck and he was overthinking things. But now he couldn't stop staring at the little curve of Evan's lips, the perfect color of them, wondering what they looked when they were ravaged and kiss-bitten. He was so caught up in the idea that he didn't notice that Evan had noticed him.

"What are you doing?"

He jumped. "Er..."

"Why are you staring?"

How was he to explain? Oh, Dora said we would kiss and now I'm a bit worked up picturing it even though we're both supposed to just be best friends?

He swallowed. But Evan was looking at him strangely. And as he did so, his tongue, with that fucking piercing, poked out of his mouth, licking over his bottom lip.

Barty snapped.

Jumping up, he nearly flung himself on Evan's lap, connecting their lips together in a frenzy, doing his damndest to make the things he'd been picturing become a reality.

Evan, to his utter joy, responded in kind. Gripped his hips and bit his lower lip hard, soothing over throbbing skin and swallowing Barty's moans.

After several minutes, or maybe perhaps hours, Evan pulled back with wide eyes. "Pandora was right," he mumbled, pushing Barty off his lap and dragging him toward the dorms.

It was only later that Pandora, eyes wide and a grin on her face, said happily. "Oh, I didn't actually mean anything by that. I just wanted to see if you would both get your heads out of your arses if I said it."

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

would you ever consider writing for jacob elordi? b/c now i'm craving him with a lawyer gf too😭😭 like he would sooo be with someone smart. those airport pics? buying books for her. the world? shocked he's not with a model.

Out of my league || Jacob Elordi x reader

A/n: love love love!!! And yes i plan on making more jacob fics :) i felt like i needed to post smth so here 😭

Warnings: none

Wc:

For the longest time, Jacob has always stayed private about his relationships. Whenever he would be asked in interviews, he would acknowledge he was in a relationship but never went into detail into who it was.

Fans have since then speculated that he was dating a model, or even another actress. Especially after an interview he had where he was asked if he was seeing anyone and he responded with “Yeah, I am. But I think she’s out my league to be honest,” with that boyish grin.

The two of you met while you were at a cafe in Boston, studying for an upcoming test when he left his wallet at the counter. You obviously knew who he was, I mean, who didn’t?

Jacob found you crazy attractive. Not just because of your looks but because you were smart. It wasn’t everyday he would bump into a Harvard student studying law.

After about two years of dating, the two of you decided that it wouldn’t matter if fans found out the two of you were dating. No one’s opinion would change anything.

jacobelordiupdates_

Liked by 3,047,183 people

Jacob spotted at Sydney airport buying books 👀 wonder where he’s off to?

view all comments

user1: 😍😍

user2: he’d be my airport crush omds

user3: he’s so hot I cant.

user4: the fit.

user5: damn his gf is so lucky

y/n_y/l/n: he’s actually coming to see me 🙃

↘️ user6: who even are u 😭

~

And so when he came to Boston to visit you—the day before valentines—he decided to finally post you on his instagram. Undoubtedly, Jacob’s fans went into a frenzy. Going crazy at the fact that they were wrong and that he was not dating model, or an actress like they suspected, but a Harvard law student.

jacobelordi

Liked by y/n_y/l/n, sydneysweeney, archmadekwe, and 9,397,028 others

What the monkey on the wall says 🐒❤️

tagged: y/n_y/l/n

view all comments

y/n_y/l/n: mwah!

↘️ jacobelordi: 😚😚

user1: OMG OMG OMG

user2: everyone wake up, Jacob posted about his gf

user3: so she isn’t a model…… WE WERE SO WRONG LMAO

user4: did anyone notice her comment on jacobelordiupdates_ post yesterday 😭😭

user5: oh to be her 😩

user6: she’s a Harvard law student? omfg I’m curious as to how they even met

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: ☕️🔑

↘️ user7: IS THIS A HINT LOL

~

y/n_y/l/n

Liked by jacobelordi and 10,037 others

nope not a model, just your average Harvard law student!!

view all comments

jacobelordi: so much better than a model babe 🥱

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: hehehehehe 🥰

user1: JACOB IN THE THIRD PIC

user2: isn’t that the book he bought at the airport yesterday 😭

↘️ user3: YES!

↘️ user4: that was what I was thinking too 🤔

↘️ user5: that’s so cute aweee

user6: the caption. love her for that lmao

user7: she’s so luckyyy

user8: the fact that everyone for sure thought Jacob was dating a model 😬

↘️ jacobelordi: they thought wrong. law students do it better

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: lol sorry to burst ur bubble x

↘️ user8: OMG OMG U BOTH ANSWERED

user9: finally, a celebrity not dating some other celebrity or model 😂

user10: how can a Harvard student be out of Jacob Elordi’s league?!

[honeypiehotchner]

kiss her, you fool (Hotch x fem!Reader) -- one shot

Anyway I'm back in the fucking building again!!!! Listened to "Kiss Her You Fool" by Kids That Fly and had this one shot written in like an hour. The love for Aaron Hotchner never dies apparently

Summary: You're in the middle of spring cleaning when Aaron calls and says he forgot something at your place (he didn't).

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff! I just wanted to write some romance

It’s the middle of the day and you’re in the middle of a cleaning frenzy when your phone rings for what looks like the third time. It’s Aaron.

“Hey! Sorry,” you laugh, grabbing the TV remote to pause your music, phone pressed to your ear with your shoulder. “I’m spring cleaning and clearly way too far in the zone. What’s up?”

“That’s okay,” you can hear him smiling as you readjust your phone in your hand. “Would it be alright if I stopped by? I think I left something there last night.”

You furrowed your brows, spinning around the living room. You definitely would’ve noticed if he left something here last night. You’ve practically turned your entire apartment upside down to clean it.

“Are you sure?” you ask, moving to lift the couch cushions for a third time. “What was it?”

“I’m not sure,” he says, which totally isn’t suspicious at all. “Can I just come look?”

“I mean,” you let out an awkward laugh. “I guess you can. I’ve been cleaning since this morning, though, so I think I would’ve spotted it, but—”

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” he says. “If that’s okay?”

You sigh, selfishly glad you’re getting to see him again, two days in a row. It feels like you’ve hit the jackpot. “Yeah, of course it’s okay.”

“Great, see you in a few.”

“See you,” you bite back your grin, ending the call. You turn the music back on, a little lower so you’ll hear him when he knocks.

You have no earthly idea what he could’ve forgotten. He had his phone and jacket in hand when he left. He never took his wallet or keys out of his jacket pockets, so they must’ve stayed there. Unless either of them fell out, but again, you feel like you would’ve noticed.

Whatever it is, he’ll either find it or realize it isn’t here. Regardless, you’re getting to see him again, so you’ll take it.

With his job, the days that you do see Aaron are typically one long day spent together here and there. Yesterday was an exception, a rare dinner mid-work week because he happened to be done at the office early and you were free, so obviously the opportunity was taken advantage of. It’s only been a few weeks of seeing one another, so you both take any chance you can get. 

Despite this, though, things have moved…slow. Slower than you expected because, to be frank, every guy you’ve been with has been quick and to the point. Not that you always minded that. Sometimes you wanted the same thing — quick, hot, heavy. But those days have since left you, and you went through a period of seeing no one, aside from one guy who left as soon as you said you were interested in moving slowly. 

It’s nothing against Aaron, but when he first introduced himself at your local coffee shop, you kind of assumed he’d be the same. It’s hard not to assume when everyone acted that way, and when the men who frequent said coffee shop don’t exactly have the best track record for being polite and respectful.

Aaron, though, took weeks to ask for your number, let alone to join your table one morning to sip his coffee — and even then, you offered him the seat; he didn’t invite himself. That alone was enough for you to agree to give him your number, and then to an official first date.

He kissed your cheek after the first date, your forehead after the second, and kept to those areas alone. You found yourself wondering if something was wrong with you somehow, but he wasn’t disinterested. Quite the opposite, actually, from how he held your hand and kept his arms around you, how he made sure you were safely inside your apartment before heading off, how he still texted when he arrived home to ask you if you were still safely inside.

Or when he had to cancel a date last minute, and sent flowers to your apartment in lieu of his presence. He apologized over the phone, but the flowers had an apology note attached too. And another apology when he arrived at your door four days later, fresh off the plane, with a real explanation of his job and why he didn’t have time to explain it all to you before he left.

Your friends think it’s a little crazy, that it’s been almost a month of dating and there hasn’t been a single kiss — “On the cheek doesn’t count!” they argue. You think it does. If anything, you’re just happy there’s no pressure.

The underlying anxiety is there, sure, of what if it never happens? But you can’t bring yourself to entertain the thought. Mainly because you want to kiss him so bad, you’re practically going to leap onto him one of these days.

You’re mid-dance when a knock sounds on your door and you jump, having forgotten Aaron said he would be here soon. You turn the music down as you head for the door, unlocking it to let him in.

He stands there in his usual dark suit, sans tie this time so the top buttons are undone, bouquet of flowers in hand and dumb smile on his face.

“What are these for?” you ask when he hands them to you. 

He steps inside and shuts the door, pausing to press a kiss to your forehead. “Because I wanted to.”

You give him a look, cheeks feeling warm. “If you keep doing this ‘because you want to,’ I’m gonna need to open a flower truck,” you joke, gesturing to the other vase of flowers sitting in your window. And there’s another in the bathroom. And one in your bedroom. 

“Just let me know what kind of truck you want,” he teases.

You press the flowers to your nose to hide your smile. “Oh, what did you forget? You’re welcome to look for it, but—”

He lets out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I might have lied.”

“I knew you were, you idiot,” you swat playfully at his arm. You turn to head into the kitchen in search of another vase. “I got off the phone and paced around like what did he possibly leave here? I figured maybe your wallet or something, but I definitely would’ve found it earlier. You should’ve seen the living room this morning — I had the couch on its side and the coffee table in the middle of the hallway—”

You’re in the middle of rambling, digging around under the sink for a vase, when Aaron pulls you up by your hand, spinning you to face him.

“—it was a disaster trying to vacuum. Remind me never to do that unless you’re over here to lift all of it. I think I nearly—”

He’s smiling at you, and you don’t have a single moment to spare to register that he’s leaning in before his lips are on yours. 

You sigh into the kiss, pleasantly surprised to be interrupted in this way, and glad your hands are free so you can hold onto him. Maybe this is why it’s good he hadn’t kissed you yet — one second of it and you’re ready to collapse under the sweet weight of it all. His arms circle your waist to lift you up, and your arms circle his neck, keeping him close. As close as you’ve really wanted him.

When you finally break for air, it’s only to press your foreheads against one another’s, not wanting to move too far.

“Well,” you laugh.

“Technically,” he says, pausing to peck your nose, “that’s what I forgot last night.”

You roll your eyes. “You are so stupid.”

“Mm, just because it makes you smile,” he says, kissing your lips again, and again. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Ideally,” you pause, letting him kiss you again, “ordering dinner in and making out with my boyfriend until the sun rises. You?”

“You know, I was thinking about taking someone special out to dinner,” he pauses, pulling you closer again, “and then kissing her until she tells me to stop.”

“That could be forever, for all you know.”

“That’s fine with me.”

You grin and he kisses you again, pausing to say, “Sorry, I can’t help myself—”

“Trust me,” you move even closer, your eyelashes practically touching his cheeks when you blink, “you don’t need to apologize.”

He responds by kissing you some more, and more, until he’s lifting you into his arms and placing you on the kitchen counter. 

“Aaron!” you squeal, nearly crushing the bouquet. “Let me move the flowers at least!”

“I’ll buy you another,” he says, just a whisper away from kissing you again. 

“You know—” You have to pause in between words as he presses his lips to yours. “—I still have—cleaning—Aaron,” you giggle. “I need to put my apartment back together.”

“Do you?” he asks, relenting only slightly, his fingertips pressing into your lower back, keeping you against him. “Do you need help?”

“I do actually,” you chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. “The couch isn’t back where it was.”

He smirked. “I noticed.”

You tug on his hair slightly to tease him for that jab, only it lights a new spark behind his eyes. Your cheeks grow even warmer. “No, seriously,” you say. “It’ll stress me out if it’s not back in its spot, but then…”

He nods, kissing your lips. “Then we’ll get ready for dinner.”

“And then come back here for a movie?”

“We’ll see how much of the movie we actually pay attention to,” he smirks, eyes traveling all over your face. 

The urge to let him ravish you right now against the kitchen counter is so strong it nearly makes you lightheaded. But soon Aaron is helping you down, pressing another kiss to your forehead. 

“Did you get to vacuum under the couch all the way?”

“…kind of.”

“Come on,” he chuckles, pulling on your hand, leading you back into the living room. “Call me next time?”

“If I get kissed like that during spring cleaning then I’m doing it every day,” you reply, mostly joking. Kind of. “Fuck I forgot the vase for the flowers—”

Aaron kisses you to interrupt you once again. “One thing at a time,” he says.

The kissing doesn’t stop, and you never do get to vacuum under the couch. It can wait.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Low key building upon this post. Why? Because it was originally supposed to be more smutty but I'm a chicken who can't write smut, so I tried dipping my toes here. Nothing too extreme mind you, I'm still a big baby. Sue me. This was also written in a cafe in like, under 20 minutes so...

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to."

That mantra has been inside of your head for months now, ever since the bastard hunter took you. In some strange way, he did somewhat keep that promise and that made you feel so damn bitter. Kinich only really forced you to do the utmost basic necessities to keep you sane and alive - nothing more, nothing less.

He was still the same old Kinich you knew. Nothing was free of charge. The only reason why he still kept you around was because it made him feel good, or so he liked to remind you every so often.

That was precisely why the current predicament you were in was so damn bizarre.

Kinich panted beneath you, his eyes widened in shock as the faintest outline of blush dusted his cheeks, his shoulders quivering ever so slightly as you held him tightly on the bed. His arms found your hips and swiftly settled there, occasionally groping the soft skin whenever the opportunity arose.

Never in his wildest dreams could Kinich have predicted that you would ever greet him home like this.

Practically giving him no room to breathe, he was pounced on like a hunter does to its prey, giving him absolutely zero time to react. Your movements were desperate and clumsy but he did not care, not when everything felt so damn good. Kinich stared at you through half lidded eyes, his gaze seeping with exhaustion but want, so much so that he was inclined to gently nibble on your lower lip, which he gladly did.

A small noise escaped you, a silly mixture between a whimper and a cry but to Kinich's ears, it felt as though the gates of heaven had been opened.

Slipping his tongue in, he swiftly sealed your lips with his own, your own saliva and spit merging with his in some sort of flimsy but erotic dance. It was messy, he noted as he felt the spit gently trailing down his cheek, which he did not care about whatsoever. Your touch was hotter than the sun and it set his whole body ablaze with a lust which he had never felt before.

Was it normal for a person to want another this badly?

It most likely was not, Kinich reasoned. But that same reason was thrown out the fucking window once he felt your hips being pressed into his own, grinding ever so lightly against him. It was sudden but good, more than plain old good actually.

Kinich could hear your pants but chose not to pay attention to them. He was going to fight you on this for as long as he could, he was never going to stop kissing you if he could have his way.

Even so, Kinich himself felt his lungs burning for sweet air, but his heart was beating straight out of his chest and his mind was in tatters.

He cannot let you go. Not when you finally had given into him.

With his brute strength, Kinich broke free from your hold and roughly grabbed you by the waist, switching places that now you were the one who was pinned. He broke the kiss, finally, and slowly brought his arm up to his face, wiping away the spit off his lips. He stared down at you in a frenzy as he took the sight in - eyes screwed shut with a pained look on your face, heavy pants leaving your lips as you desperately tried to regain your composure but kept utterly failing each time.

It was so damn cute, he muttered wistfully.

Ever the opportunist, Kinich dove back down once more, his lips on yours again. One hand kept your arms pinned above your head while the other was lowered down towards your shirt, his skilled fingers ripping the fabric off. You yelped beneath him, not expecting the sudden force but that was alright too.

It simply added on to the cuteness.

Kinich felt himself growing harder by the second, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable. He lost count with how many nights he had wasted away daydreaming about this exact moment - you, on his bed, stuffed full of his cock as his name was chanted like a sick love spell, over and over and over - let the whole valley hear, heck, let absolutely every human and beast hear who was making you feel so good. Your pleasure was officially in his hands now and there was no turning back now.

That was the initial idea, at least.

"HEY, HEY! What do you two freaks think you're doing?!"

Ajaw's shrill scream rang throughout the entire hut, its body now a mixture of bright orange and angry red, its tiny arms raised as high as they could be as it continued to complain.

"Kinich! I knew you were a freak but this crosses the line, even for YOU !" yelled the tiny dragon creature, its sharp gaze now stuck on you both.

"Sick perverts! How dare you subject the Mighty Dragon Lord to such an uncouth sight!"

Ajaw continued to complain over and over again as Kinich slowly distanced himself from you. He still lay there on top of you, albeit with his back fully straight now as his gaze became hollow. You could not tell if he was trying to tune out Ajaw or if he was listening intently but that question would be answered soon enough.

Still loudly complaining, Ajaw continued to prattle on and on, forcing Kinich to let out a very long and frustrated sigh. With a cool gaze Kinich raised his arm slightly in the air, his back still turned towards Ajaw as he made the "come here" motion with his finger. The tiny dragon obliged, thinking that his servant was going to give him a proper apology which he rightfully deserved - only to be met with the harshest smack across the head he had ever felt.

The impact was so loud that it echoed loudly across the entire room. Ajaw landed on the ground, dazed entirely and just stayed there, not making a sound. Still on top of you, Kinich lazily checked the ground to see where Ajaw had landed, and once he was satisfied with the findings, Kinich nodded to himself, his entire focus being shifted back towards you. With an outstretched arm, he placed a hand at the back of your head and gave your neck a soft but determined kiss. From the corner of your eye, you could see the faint outlines of the marks on his body beginning to glow but you did not know why, nor did you bother to ask.

Your body felt a little lighter as Kinich got up, the entire bed suddenly so much more free and cozy. Grabbing the hem of the blanket felt like the right thing to do, which you did. Kinich stood by the bed and watched you for a few seconds, his palm pressing your head down towards the pillow as he tucked you in.

"You did good tonight." he praised softly.

"I'll make sure to be a little nicer towards you. After all, how could I not be after tonight?" said Kinich with a snort, his lips forming into a smug smirk. You growled under your breath, frustrated to see your captor see so damn happy but you knew that in the long run, this was the best thing to do. A happy Kinich was a good Kinich.

It just made things easier. And that was the stone cold truth.

With a light pep in his step, Kinich walked towards the exit, grabbing his jacket along the way.

"I'll be out late tonight, commission. If Ajaw hadn't interrupted... I would have completely forgotten about it."

His tone was flat but cool, low key signaling that he was indeed telling the truth. Saying nothing, you covered your head with the fuzzy blanket and heard Kinich laugh under his breath one last time before leaving you to your own devices.

Times like these felt perfect for an escape attempt but experience had taught you well. No matter how far you went, Kinich would just track you down and bring you back by the ear if he had to.

He definitely had the monster like strength to do so.

With a huff you closed your eyes, blushing a little as you felt the pleasurable heat down your body, causing your legs to press themselves shut on instinct. The best thing to do now was to get some rest, nothing more, nothing less. The day had been long and draining, which only added to your sleepiness. In less than a few minutes darkness had taken over, your mind and body completely shut off from the rest of the world.

Meanwhile on the ground next to you, Ajaw quickly opened one eye and kept an ear out. Once he realized that you were fast asleep, only one thing could be said.

"Darn it."

[ttrpg-smash-pass-vs]

The beloved classic, the Werewolf! In Pathfinder 2e a werewolf has FOUR forms. Their old form, a wolf form, thier new "true" hybrid form that's the same size as their old one, and the MOON FRENZY form. They grow massively (next size category, so likely around double) and go on a rampage. Personality wise they tend to either go it alone or form small found-family packs with other werewolves, led by the eldest with new members hand-picked to join. Pathfinder werewolves lean more toward the "actual wolf" side than "fantasy fear of wolves" side, but the killer stereotype is still there. This does not matter, because I know your thoughts are simply

Whenever I post a streak of some harder sells like hags, I try to give our more conventional participants a treat afterwards. A little thank you for sticking around and considering something new, regardless of your decision. Which is why I'm posting the lycanthropes now instead of waiting until closer to Halloween with the other classics :3

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[ninguitar]

꣑ৎ　────　𝓡ED WINE KISSIN' , YJM 　　　　in the house that your parents got for you, rented 𓈒𓈒𓈒

───﹙☕️﹚𝓢. ｡｡　jimin was everything you wanted, and the only way you could ever reach into her heart, was through a simple friends-with-benefits ordeal, though it feels like swallowing a tough pill when you realize you've irrevocably fallen for her.

𝓹airing. yu jimin x f!r 𝓰enre. fluff, angst wc. 3.2k+ notes. WARNING. ⚠️ a lil suggestive. inspo from gilmore girls & yellowjackets. :3 lwk made jimin a cunt sorry 😓 (MASTERLIST)

now playing ⋆ nights like this by the kid laroi

YOU DON'T KNOW HOW IT HAPPENED, REALLY, and every bone in your body just tells you and pleads, that you stop letting yourself succumb to the same bottle of booze. and synonymously, nothing made sense to you, how you could've possibly ended up in yu jimin's sheets.

all your friends remembered her from school vividly, and occasionally, she'd cling onto a new girl and prance around with them every other week, a new girl wrapped around her finger only to be dumped aside the next week. "what a cunt," you recall telling your friends, snickering as you did so, but that was only back then. you always wondered how you succumbed to karina's whims and pleas the way you did with booze.

and you couldn't shake off the bitter taste that remained in your tongue, as you dwell on the past—the way you drunkenly and breathlessly muttered out, 'i like your pilgrim hat,' a careless and crooked smile curbing your lips, while a jimin with no hat on at all looked at you, a clueless expression. that was the start of it all—the start of an unnecessarily strung-on relationship between you two.

nothing was in your guys' futures—no dates, no promise rings or flowers, just the comfort of one-another in your beds. and in no shape or form could either of you call one-another their own. the moments in which one of you called the other, hoping to seek comfort were nothing, really—even if one of you ran to the other's side almost immediately. and usually, late night talks from those moments always led to more, to her lips pressed up against yours in a frenzy, her lipgloss smearing against yours down to your chin.

of course, you've asked about your guys' relationship—multiple times, actually—but the korean girl always brushed it off, your heart cracking bit by bit each time she ignored you. and usually, she'd just text you, spewing out less than futile apologies mixed in with promises that you'd always believed in, which often brought you back in her sheets.

dusk ate away at the light streaks that were previously in the sky, the trees leaves rustling, though it was overpowered by the chatter and sound of bodies grinding on one-another at the party. and of course, you stagger on your legs, trying not to knock over anything, because you knew that eventually whichever snobby kid who hosted the party would pin it back onto you. you turn your head to glance at your friends, tutting, "if i'm still letting that stuck-up kid beat me in badminton next match, shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery," as you point to one of the guys trying to buy karina a drink.

you watch over them, almost dumbfounded. your lips curl in a sneer, the cup in your hands trembling slightly. you're barely able to fight the urge to just throw your cup, your jaw clenched. it stings, a reminder that you two were anything but dating, and that churns a pit of dread in your stomach. you force a smile, and you step back in search of some waiter for another drink.

another red plastic cup is already in your hand, and biting the rim of the cup, you take a swig. sleazily, your gaze shamelessly fixates on karina—whatever you guys were, you just knew she was devilishly attractive, and that always lured you in for more. you carelessly stuff hors d'oeuvres down your throat, not paying any mind to what they even were—hell, they were food served by some rich kid with personal maids, no way would they taste that egregious.

"are you sure you can even drive home?" one of your friends—sunwoo—questions, his eyes narrowing as he watches you carelessly shove anything down your throat. he reluctantly grabs your plate with the rest of your peculiar food combos and dumps it into the trash, shaking his head, "god, you're gonna complain about your hangover all morning tomorrow," he predicts, a grin adorning his face, as you retaliate.

"and god knows whose bed you'll be in tonight," you snicker, chuckles escaping your breath, as sunwoo plays along, as equally as intoxicated as you to even protest—you were right. the korean guy just shakes his head, nudging your shoulder, "enough teasing," he points his cup towards your direction, "let's talk about you and that god-awful girl," referring to jimin. sunwoo never liked karina, insisting that she was gonna toss you aside eventually, and a sense of disdain always painted his features at the mention of her. though, for you, he tolerated her—mainly because you begged him to.

"she's… not bad at all," you shrug, "you just don't get it, sunwoo. she's out of this world," you trail off, mindlessly talking about karina as though she was a goddess, and really, in your eyes, she was. a look of disgust washes over his features at your words, and shaking his head, he relents, "just be safe—you know what everybody says, she's the spawn of the devil. you owe me twenty bucks for that keg stand by the way," he huffs out the last sentence.

to you, it made sense that sunwoo acted in a crass way; he knew you like the back of his hand, and you were all he had growing up, so you guys were practically conjoined twins. he just simply took it on himself to make sure you were happy, even if it meant crushing your feelings sometimes. however, to karina, it only irritated her, and here and there, she'd drop complaints about him, hoping you'd catch on. of course, she relented at one point, growing less indignant towards him.

"anyway, i can't drive you home, my dad's gonna freak if he sees you hammered," sunwoo shrugs, stumbling as he tries to get up, and as he does so, karina strolls into your line of vision amongst a crowd, her lips curling into a half-assed grin. you mutter under your breath, "i'm not hammered, just a little tipsy, like i'm on cloud 9." a toothy smile plays on your face, as you brush past sunwoo, hollering out a 'bye!' you sneak up behind karina, hoisting her up in the air, and spinning her around.

a wide grin breaks out on her previously dull face, laughter wringing, before you plop her down. you instinctively lean in against her and relax your body against her's, before her gaze traces your features, "christ, you look like you just got out of a zombie apocalypse," she murmurs, unbridled concern laced in her tone. and by then, you still don't notice the way your sneak-up behind her made her spill a bit of her champagne onto her shirt, and that she'd somehow manage to maintain her composure. everybody knew, that if it weren't you making it spill, she'd be livid. her laughter quickly subsides, "i told sunwoo to make sure you'd still be able to drive yourself home, god, that guy—"

you shake your head, interrupting her train of thought, "sunwoo did, he just had to go home." you shrug, trying to dismiss the way karina's forehead was scattered with worry lines creased in them. the korean girl meekly bites her vicious words back, too wrapped up in the fact you were intoxicated off your mind. "you good?" you murmur, as she looks back at you, her eyes drooping down to your face, and then narrowing slightly.

"yeah, i'm good," she mutters too flatly, before playfully pinching your arm, sarcasm dripping from her words, "real great—i'm stuck with a drunk," eliciting a series of giggles from you. you quickly sputter, shaking your head, "you'll live, 'rina," and you lighten up almost immediately. continuing, you exclaim, "you're meant to be getting shitfaced and partying right now!"

"i did—i just don't like the drunk guys. anyway, how about i drive you home, yeah?" karina asks, her voice gentle yet probing. a faint smile tugs at her lips as she watches you let a giggle slip out past your incessant comments of partying and begrudgingly, you nod, trying to push yourself as close to her as humanly possible. and you hold onto her, like she was a prize that you won, fair and square.

the wind blows, sounding almost like running water, as the korean girl tries to gently hold onto you, an incapacitated girl, until you guys reach her car, the girl feeling a rush of relief. judging by the fact that you weren't spewing out any nonsense yet, you were probably delirious, everything blurring together in your vision. a noise of annoyance escapes karina's throat, as she helps you into the car, sighing.

and just as karina was starting the engine, you lament, your voice tinging with playfulness, "lighten up, jimin. you're always so tense, even sunwoo thinks so." karina raises a brow, her eyes darting up to look at you from the rearview mirror, and beside you, was a bottle of some useless, expensive alcohol you swiped from the party.

"i'm not tense," she scoffs, though there's a faint grin adorning her face, as she barely suppresses her chuckles past her faux annoyance. your laughter wrings outside the car, and her eyes linger on you at any time she had before the traffic lights flashes green. your gaze drifts to the moonlit sky, sitting quietly, and lost in your thoughts. the car drive was a blur of laughter and shared stories, the kind of carefree joy that you haven't felt with anybody but jimin.

"your house?" karina murmurs, as she waits for the light to buzz green, and with your tone taking on a frustrated edge, you mutter, "i don't wanna go, 'rina. can't i stay over at yours?" you practically plea, your voice hoarse, as you card a hand through your hair, "just wanna be anywhere with you, c'mon."

"okay," the korean girl breathlessly mumbles, biting back any of her concerned words, and you never really ever questioned why she was like this—the way her voice was always dulcet and just barely above a whisper when it came to you. that was an enigma to you.

nestled in karina's bedroom, the soft glow of her laptop casting gentle shadows on the walls, you sat on her bed, your jacket discarded god-knows-where. a pack of tylenol sat beside you on the nightstand, 'in case you wake up tomorrow majorly hung-over' in karina's words. curling up beside the korean girl under the cover, with your legs tangled together in a comfortable knot, you mumble incoherent words under your breath. the world ceased to exist in those moments, and before you knew it, your lips were against karina's in a fervent manner.

"eager, aren't you? the teasing words manage to escape her breath, and retaliating, you grunt, "shut up and just kiss me, 'rina." every few seconds, the korean girl mutters out playful words under her breath, wanting to just get under your skin for no apparent reason, and to prevent her, you press your lips against hers feverishly. and in between those teasing comments lingering in the air, she'd mumble out praise—from "my pretty girl," to "mine forever."

her hands moves to the back of your head, her touch firm yet controlled, as she pushes you closer to her. your hands press up against her chest, and in response, karina further presses your lips against hers in a kiss that was really anything but gentle—raw, messy, passionate, whatever. her urgency left you feeling dizzy, and you could feel the heat of her desire inside each kiss. the korean girl nips at your bottom lip, a throaty chuckle escaping her breath.

she drawls, her voice smooth and calm, "god, you're so much better than the rest," and the casual way she utters those words make you halt in your movements, your gaze blank. the rest? and unaware of the way you were practically paralyzed, karina closes the gap between you two once again, the intensity of her kisses overwhelming. "can't get you out my head, you know that? i can't help but think of you when 'm with other girls, and it sucks."

it felt like a slap in the face, with each back-handed comment from jimin making your shoulders droop. you huff, your eyes narrowing, "you cannot be serious, jimin," your tone takes on a harsh edge. the sound of your troubled figure sitting up and down follows your words, and without a shred of reluctance, karina follows you up. the frustration grows steadily in your body, as you look at her incredulously, your hands pressing up against her chest, "no- i can't do this anymore with you, jimin."

"what- what'd i do? talk to me," jimin pries, and she exhales softly, hoping to try to unwind her taut muscles even just a fraction, "please, i don't even know what you're talking about." and you swallow heavily, your eyes remaining adamant on avoiding karina's pleading, desperate gaze.

"don't you get it, jimin?" your eyes meet hers, an air of disbelief flowing through you, as you hesitate for a moment before completing your thoughts, "i don't wanna be another one of just your girls, the ones you toss aside." you admit, adrenaline rushing through your veins, and you could feel your face turning pale. you watch karina freeze in her steps, her face falling at your demand.

"what?" her voice is quiet, hoping that her ears were merely betraying her. and the blood rushing in your body almost drowns out her voice, but she continues, her voice low and urgent, "you're more than that, you're my best friend." each word feels like it's being ripped out from her heart, and her resolve crumbles, "i- i mean, we're just friends, aren't we?"

"and what we have is perfect, isn't it, so why ruin it? i like being able to do whatever this is and still be friends with you."

everything was complicated in your life already, and navigating through it was painstakingly slow—especially when you kept your relationship with jimin under the wraps, nobody but sunwoo knowing, only because he caught you guys one time at a party. none of it felt easy, yet there was karina, and she filled the void that nobody else could.

it felt as though there was always a yu jimin-shaped hole in your heart.

and you look back in her eyes, your gaze unwavering, "don't— friends my ass, 'rina! holding hands together, making out on the balcony, shopping in ikea for our future apartment—none of that is just friends." your voice runs hoarse, and the words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea that carries months of indifference and uncertainty. you know it's a risk, a gamble that you're taking, just to get your words out; hell, maybe she'll succumb to your words the way you do to her whims, but you can't hold back any more longer.

"you're more special than the rest—so, so much more—"

you interrupt her, your voice resonating with deep resentment, "do you ever just listen! jimin, don't bullshit me. i'm not gonna be a warm body you hold at night just because you feel alone." and it's like a feeble attempt to grasp at straws. "tell me we're not just friends, please."

"i like you, but i just don't want a relationship," karina presses on, "and i told you that in the beginning." her voice is barely above a whisper, and it's both a bitter pill to swallow, as your hand clenches. "c'mon," she whispers, her arms snake around your waist, taking your hand in hers, and her thumbs gently caress your skin, "we could just go back to kissing, can't we?"

the soft look in her eyes makes your heart flutter, and your knees buckle, as her lips brush against the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. she watches you with a contemplative expression, and you speak up, "you're not the only one who gets a say in this jimin—i do, too!" you stand up, scoffing, and months of holding back only fueled by karina causally mentioning other girls bubble to the surface.

then you remember, the night you kissed karina. it's like a distant memory now, and you just wished you spoke up against her. you remember the way her eyes met yours, and after a brief greeting to one-another by one of your guys' mutual friends, minjeong, you two hit it off. you remember the smell of her perfume, the bitter sensation of the drink she was having, and the way you could taste it on her lips. you remember when you two were inebriated, and she had the brilliant idea of climbing the roof, while you were still much of a worrywart.

it was unlike anything you'd experience before, because you remember the way her voice was dulcet, her eyes tender when she looked at you, when she whispered, "people could live a hundred years without living for a minute. climb up here with me, and it'll be one less minute you haven't lived." you, of course, listened to her words back then, and you were then found with your lips against hers; tongue ran over your teeth, nails clawing at your skin, and hair tangled between fingers.

"don't be like this! c'mon, i told you i didn't want anything serious," jimin huffs, and her voice is almost tinged with hurt, as she shakes her head. she gazes into your eyes, and she waits, her heart stuttering in her chest. you step back, shaking your head in resignation, and the distance between you two grows with each passing moment.

with your head in your hands, your persistence to argue against karina drowning out your body bit by bit, and your resentment building up brick by brick, you hiss out, "fine, fuck it, we're not together then! so be it." your clenched hands move to cling to your sides, your eyebrows knitted together.

"hey, i couldn't care less if we're together or not! and if you're upset that we're nothing but friends, then that's too damn bad!" she cracks, and she tilts her head, waiting for your response. her lips press into a thin line, and the sting in your eyes only grew larger, accompanied by your anger. jimin sighs, "for such a pretty girl, you are so fucking needy." she huffs, making sure to enunciate her words. her deep, hushed tone catches you off-guard, and you furrow your eyebrows.

you raise your tone to spitefully match hers, "sunwoo was right—i was just another one of your girls. i bet you told all of them they were special too, right? i mean you ought to have done that multiple times to perfect it," you remark sardonically, shrugging, and an uneasy silence settles among you two. jimin's hands curl around your wrist, her demeanor still persistent, "you are just so fuckin' infuriating! you're even lucky i gave your sorry ass a chance." but you nonetheless yank out of her grip, your heart feeling sore.

"i want all my shit back by next week—just have minjeong drop it off," you mutter flatly, and you practically lose your breath, your head pounding from the medley of emotions flowing through your veins. you push through karina, too lost in your thoughts.

i think about you and nothin' else

so if you would just come over, i could show you for myself

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[gladiatorcunt]

Feral feral Anakin fucking you every second of the day because he can’t get enough of you and is overly obsessed

send me coryo, luke castellan, or anakin asks (this is a threat)

implied canon compliant prequels and childhood friend afab royalty reader (basically in padme's place) based on an upcoming fic

This is canon Anakin behavior actually, he's like a big dog with his favorite chew toy. The dog obviously loves the toy a lot but it's because of his love that the toy becomes well used. No matter how tattered it becomes, the dog will still curl around it and spend its days licking the hell out of it until it withers away.

I think that because of how he grew up, just a little boy on some ball of sand whose life really didn't belong to him, as soon as he's free from that he just unravels. I love Anakin being written as more unhinged or even slightly like an eldritch horror, because suddenly he has this big destiny laid out in front of him and the tethers holding his soul together inevitably come unhooked. I think that he's wired like that from the beginning, very passionate but without a means to express it.

So, when he meets you, little royal heir with all the stars of the galaxy in your eyes, he tells a familiar story about an angel and from then on, it's over for him. Every moment of his life orbits around the sun in his solar system, you.

The first think he thinks when he sees you again, is how your moans would echo off the windows when he eats you out on one of the couches. Then he imagines your perfectly manicured hands clawing delicious ribbons down his back while he rabidly pounds your sopping wet pussy against the wall of your huge walk-in closet in your apartment. He'd have to hold a hand over your mouth, but he wouldn't do a thing to clean up the slicks that drips out of your pussy onto the floor. You'd pout as you'd rush to get ready before Obi-Wan came back, and all he'd be able to do in response is hook his chin over your shoulder and smile.

"No, it's because I'm so in love with you."

You're leaning against a balcony overlooking a lake in Naboo and all he can think about as he strokes a shy finger down your back is hiking your dress up and bending you over it. You're chained to a pillar in between him and Obi-Wan, and when all is said and done, he wishes he killed everybody that was relishing in your suffering in that arena and fucked you with their blood coating his body. He could go on forever until the last grain of sand on Tatooine flies away. He'd have gotten you barefoot and pregnant immediately if the leash around his neck was any looser.

No matter the fantasy or the moment, you always have at least one mark on you. He's not patient enough for hickies and his fingers move too quickly for any serious bruises to form on your body. He favors bite marks, near perfect impressions of his teeth etched in your soft skin. He doesn't bite to tear, just does his repeated 'chomp!'s without a single thought in his head; your thighs bear the brunt of it. Anakin likes when drops of blood bead at the surface of the bites, because then he can lick the bites soothingly. You usually have to run your fingers through his hair to get him to come back to himself when he starts doing it on autopilot with his eyes rolled back.

"Yes, yes, yessssss.... love fucking my cunt, missed making love to my sloppy pussy. Taking my dick so well, keep breathing with me, my love. That's it, just like that."

His way of saying good morning is languid strokes deep in your guts. His way of saying good night is crazed thrusts that have him putting it back it when his frenzied pace causes his length to slip out. He has is so hard sometimes, determined to carry the entire galaxy on his shoulders with you on top of it. You can the rising anger that builds within him when everything he does to prove himself goes unrecognized. The best way he has to ignore all of that outside responsibility is knocking your sweaty body up the bed while you're clutching the headboard for dear life.

Anakin's emotions bleed from him so openly, and all you have to do is drink them in. Because even though he wasn't free when he met you, you owned him them with his gift around your neck. You own him now, your cervix kissing his mushroom tip in its own display of affection. He is supposed to live his life with the intention to be the force's son, but he is burning to ash faster than he is fulfilling his destiny; at least he can keep you and your future children warm.