#if i was more self aware i would have seen it sooner

[takemetodragonstone]

i have recently been made aware that it’s not normal to feel discomfort and disgust when people use your given name? like that’s not what everyone who doesn’t like their name means when they say they don’t like their name?? hearing mine makes me cringe and sometimes even makes my skin crawl or my stomach drop and you’re telling me most people don’t experience this????

[moon-my-beloved]

neighbors (tf141 x fem! reader)

part I: first impressions

tw: mentions of crappy parents, angst, and reader being absolutely terrible at socializing. that’s all babes - xoxo

you really weren’t sure why you were so.. anxious.

ever since encountering your (undeniably ethereal) neighbors arrive, you became a little more self-conscious when getting out of the house. that same day, you had carefully and quietly made your way towards auntie lotties house once you were in the clear that the men would not be coming outside any time soon.

“oh dear! what’s got you in such a hurry, luv?” auntie lottie had said in shock, letting you into the comfort of her home and ushering you to sit down while she got you a glass of water.

“i think I’ve just made a fool of myself,” you said in dejection, telling her of the shit show you just did upon meeting your neighbors. a hearty chuckle making itself known once the older woman came back with the glass of water she had promised.

“don’t be silly, they probably didn’t even see you! besides, you will eventually talk to them sooner or later.”

you didn’t even want to think about the possibility of bumping into them any time soon. what would you even say? ‘hey I’m your neighbor from across the street. sorry you caught me peeping at you all like some fucking creep.”

in hopes of just keeping your mind off of the men that have been haunting your thoughts, you asked auntie lottie if she had any new ideas for her next recipe in which you were grateful for when the woman spent most of your stay ranting about a new sponge cake recipe she had seen.

you spent most of your evening with auntie lottie and the sun had already set down by the time you bid your goodbyes to her. the crisp, fresh air blowing on your skin making you sigh in containment as you make your way back home. the sky was clear today, lifting your head up just enough to see how the stars twinkle against the night sky and how the moon cascaded a small glow over the land with how bright it looked. you don’t realize you’ve already arrived to your destination before another rush of cold air snaps you out of your haze.

living by yourself feels great, there’s no questioning that. but you can’t help at times feel that daunting feeling of loneliness claw its way to your mind and make your heart ache in wanting to at least come back home to someone. that desire to be wanted.

your family was a lost cause. practically forgetting all about you once you turned eighteen and went to college. no text messages or phone calls were ever heard from them throughout all those years. small christmas cards being sent here and there that read, “we hope you’re doing well. - mom and dad. friends? they were all living their own lives. building themselves an actual family with their soon-to-be husbands or wife’s. some of them already having kids of their own. you were too scared, too aware of yourself to taint them with any unwanted things. you were never good with people.

god you sound pathetic.

shaking your head a bit, you make your way up the small steps and take out your keys, daring to take a small glance at the house across from you. your eyes catch a small light coming from one of the windows, the silhouette of people walking by visible even though the curtain.

you wonder what they did for work. lottie hadn’t mentioned anything of what they do. from the looks of it, it’s definitely something that keeps them away from home for long periods of time.

your brainstorming is cut off short, eyes widening a bit when someone from the other side of the window suddenly stops in front of it. without a second to waste, you hurriedly make your way inside. your heart pounding out of your chest as you lean your back against the door.

fucking hell.

you had been avoiding them like the plague. successfully staying away from any unwanted attention even when you sometimes caught glimpses of chocolate eyes and mohawk taking their morning run while getting ready for work. ignoring the way your face burned up in shame.

or even at times when you would see skull face reading a book with mutton chops. tea on their sides as they enjoyed the sound of birds chirping and wind chimes bumping against each other with every gust of wind.

they all looked so.. content. and for some reason you just knew they were a family. one with each other with the way they maneuvered themselves with one another. so natural.

nevertheless, you were doing a great job… until you weren’t.

you had been getting off your shift when you decided it was a good idea to do a small grocery run. with the holidays coming and the weather becoming increasingly colder by the days, you needed to stock up before there was nothing left.

so here you were. a coat over your shoulders, still in your work clothes and heels digging into your feet uncomfortably. pushing a cart and checking off items from your list as you went.

stores were busy during this time of year. christmas songs were played through the speakers along with decorations filling every corner of the store. kids bustling around their parents in excitement with every toy they pointed out to.

by the time you were done checking off the last item from your list, you were exhausted.

“maybe a small treat would be nice..” you mutter to yourself, making your way to the snack aisle and barely making it past the corner before a scottish accent calls out your name.

you pause abruptly, turning your head to the sound as your eyes widened in utter shock when realization dawns at you.

two of your neighbors were standing there, just a few feet from you. mohawk giving you a wolfish grin while waving a teasing hand at you. the other man sending an apologetic smile your way for his friends behavior. god he was so much prettier up close.

“that’s ye right?” only being able to nod as his large body makes its way towards your direction. ocean eyes pinning you down in place with the way they roam around you, analyzing you. he wore a leather jacket, white shirt underneath that did nothing but enhance the way his chest stretched over the material. he wore a nice pair of jeans, topping of his outfit with a pair of black boots. he definitely had that bad-boy style look to him.

“way to make a lady feel comfortable mactavish. I’m sorry about him, luv. auntie lottie had mentioned us having a new neighbor and wanted to put a face to the name. I’m kyle, by the way, and this dog here is johnny.” the pretty man said, earning a small scoff from johnny, grumbling something about kyle not being any better than him. he wore a nice umber coat accompanied by a black turtleneck underneath. black slacks adoring his legs and a nice pair of chelsea boots. you would not even question if he was a model.

shit, you had been staring for too long, barely finding your voice before uttering something that sounded at least somewhat normal.

“I’m sorry for not introducing myself sooner, I don’t really get out much.” a nervous chuckle making its way past your lips as you try so hard to not make it so obvious of how you’ve been the one avoiding them this whole time.

“‘na need tae apologize bonnie. jus’ glad we caught ye jus’ in time. a’m sure tha’ other lads would love tae meet ye.” a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that can only be described as up-to-no-good with the way he’s staring at you.

“what he means is if you would like to come over some time, meet the rest of the team.” a charming smile plastered against his perfect lips that you don’t have it in your heart to say no. (not like you were going to in the first place)

you exchange numbers with johnny and kyle not missing the way their lingering gazes stay on you even after they leave.

sweet treat long forgotten.

a/n: we finally meet half of the boys RAAAA. i hope you guys like this chapter and if there’s anything that should be fixed like my god awful interpretation of scottish accent, please let me know! 😭 enjoy mis amores! <3

[itneverendshere]

I love pogue!reader and rafe sm. I’m so excited every time you post them ❤️ what if reader realizes she’s really falling for rafe and it’s getting serious so she’s tries to self sabotage and end it. She’s thinking he’s THE kook and she’s a pogue. It can’t last and she won’t survive that heartbreak. so rafe starts to panic but then realizes what’s she’s doing by ending it so he’s just like lol no nice try I’m not going anywhere

 i would follow you home - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) word count: 3.1k

hope you enjoy, i love them too 🩵

It was mid-afternoon, that quiet lull between lunch and dinner when the regulars started to trickle in. And like clockwork, you were wiping down the bar, mindlessly watching the condensation drip from a glass of iced tea when you saw Rafe strolling in.

He always had that cocky walk, shoulders rolled back like he owns the place, which, you guess, technically he kinda did, or at least his dad did. Cameron Development Group practically built the country club.

He spotted you and the corner of his mouth lifted in that way that made your stomach flip. God, you hated how it still got to you.

After months of this—him swinging by the bar at the end of his golf games, lounging against the counter like it was no big deal, driving you home, saving you from the storms, letting you kiss him—your heart should’ve calmed the hell down. But no, here you were, butterflies fluttering in your chest, fingers tightening around the rag you were using to clean.

You tossed it on the counter and busy yourself with stacking glasses.

“Hey, stranger.” His voice was all smooth like he knew exactly what effect it had on you. And he did. You were still a shitty liar and he learned that fast. 

You glanced up, trying to keep things cool, casual. “Hey yourself.”

He settled into one of the barstools, leaning forward, his blue eyes locking on yours. “You off soon?”

You shrugged. “Depends. Why?”

The truth was, you knew why. You knew exactly what he was asking.

He was wondering if you would have time after this—time to sneak off to that little spot by the docks where you'd been meeting up, where things between you had been getting more…a little complicated?

And that’s exactly why you needed to end this.

It’s not like you hadn’t seen it coming. You’d known for a while that whatever this thing was with Rafe, it was headed in a direction you couldn’t afford to follow. He was the poster child for Kook royalty. Born with a silver spoon and all that. Meanwhile, you were still just the bartender, a Pogue, barely scraping by. 

It started simple—quick conversations after work, long talks on the drive home, those random texts at 2 a.m. that turned into hours of you two confessing things you’d never say out loud to anyone else.

You din’t know when it shifted into this—this weird gray area where everything felt more intense. Maybe when you all but kissed him when he picked you up after the storm. That had to be it.

Because you knew how this story ended. You knew what happened when a girl like you fell for a guy like Rafe Cameron.

Heartbreak.

And you wouldn’t survive that.

“I’ve been thinking,” You blurted out, suddenly very aware of the way his eyes were still on you. Too aware. You reached for a clean glass, filling it with soda water to distract yourself. “Maybe we should… I dunno, cool it for a bit.”

His smirk faltered. “Cool it?”

“Yeah,” You shrugged again, trying to seem nonchalant, even though your heart was hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. “I mean, this was fun and all, but let’s be real—”

“Be real?”

You nodded, not daring to look up from the glass you were holding.

“We’re not exactly from the same world, Rafe. It was bound to end sooner or later. Might as well rip the band-aid off now.”

Silence. For a beat, he doesn’t say anything, and for a second you wonder if you had done it—if you’d actually convinced him that this wasn’t worth it, that he should’ve just walked away and left you with at least a sliver of your heart intact.

Then he laughed.

It wasn’t like a mocking laugh, but it was still a sound you weren’t expecting. Your eyes snapped up to his face, and you saw that damn smirk was back. Only this time, there was something softer in his eyes, something almost… amused?

“Oh, I see what this is.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, looking way too pleased with himself.

You frowned, instinctively grabbing a towel and wiping the counter again, trying to distract yourself from the way his eyes were making you feel seen. Too seen. 

“What?”

“You’re scared.”

Your stomach dropped. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he interrupted, standing up and rounding the bar until he was way too close, until you could smell the cologne clinging to his skin and the fresh grass scent of the golf course. He caged you in with his body, one hand gripping the counter behind you, the other reaching up to tilt your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You’re trying to push me away because you’re scared. But newsflash, sweetheart—nice try. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight, because damn it, he was right. He was completely, 100% right, and you hated it. You hated that he could see right through you like that, see all your fears, all the things you’d been trying so hard to bury.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

You didn’t know what to say because, deep down, you didn’t want to believe that it mattered to him. You wanted to believe that he saw you for more than just the girl behind the bar. But every time you let yourself get close, that voice in the back of your head reminded you that this wasn’t some fairytale.

“Rafe, you’ll get bored,” you mumbled, barely able to get the words out. “You’ll realize this was just… a phase. I mean, we’re friends, right? We can just… go back to that.”

“Go back to that?” He repeated your words slowly like he was testing them out. And then he laughed—this short, disbelieving sound that made your stomach twist, “You’re trying to run.”

“Am not.”

“You are.

“There’s nothing to run from,” You snapped, though even you didn’t believe that.

He was close enough now that you had to tilt your head almost all the way back to meet his eyes, and there was something so raw, so real in the way he was looking at you that you couldn’t breathe.

“Nothing, huh?”

“Nothing,” you managed to repeat, but the word came out more like a question than a statement. The self-doubt you’d been trying to ignore bubbled up, and you hated yourself for it. 

He leaned in closer, and you could feel his breath against your skin. “If you think there’s nothing between us, then why does it hurt so much to even think about letting it go?”

His words hit a particular soft spot, and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping. You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that you could walk away and be fine.

But the truth was, you weren’t fine. You weren’t even close to fine.

The whole time you’d been telling yourself this was just a fling, some wild phase that would burn out eventually—because that was what made sense. You weren’t supposed to fall for the guy who came from money and lived in a mansion on the hill, while you were still sharing a room with your sister in a run-down house, after yours got destroyed, on the wrong side of the island. 

This was never supposed to be real.

“You don’t get it. You’ve never had to worry about—about someone like me not fitting into your life. You don’t have people looking at you and thinking ‘what the hell is he doing with her?’”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and his thumb brushed a light circle against your waist, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Who cares what people think? I’m not with them. I’m with you.”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him, stepping back just enough to put some space between you.

"No. No, it’s not that simple. You don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to always be the one left behind. You’ll get bored, and then what? You just walk away and I’m the one left picking up the pieces."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you weren’t done.

"And don't say you won’t, because everyone does! I’ve seen this before. I’ve been through it. I don’t survive guys like you." Your voice cracked, and damn it, you hated how vulnerable you sounded, but it was too late. It was all spilling out now, all the fear you’d kept bottled up.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and instead of the cocky smirk you expected, there was something different in his eyes. Anger? No, frustration maybe. But not at you.

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to keep his cool. “You think I’m just some guy playing games, huh? That I’m gonna wake up one day and decide you’re not worth it?”

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself as if that would protect you from the way his words were hitting you too hard. “Isn’t that what happens?”

“No. Not with me.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do know that!” His voice rose, and you flinched a little, caught off guard by the intensity.

He noticed and apologized immediately, stepping closer, his hand reaching for yours but stopping just short. "I’m here, with you. Because I want to be. Don’t you get that?"

You hated the way he was looking at you, the way his words hit with brutal honesty you weren’t used to—it made you pause. Your eyes fleeted away, focusing on the floor because looking at him was too much.

"Just let me go," you whispered, "It’ll hurt less now."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and before you could pull back, he stepped forward, closing the gap between you in one swift move.

His hand cupped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes, and there was no escape from the intensity in them.

"No," he said, firm but quiet. "I’m not letting you go. You’re not pushing me away. I’m not leaving, no matter how hard you try to sabotage this."

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you shook your head, trying to argue, but then his lips were on yours, cutting off whatever weak protest you had left. The kiss wasn’t gentle or slow—it was harsh, like he was trying to make you understand something without words. 

 And damn it, you kissed him back. Because of course, you did.

Because despite everything you said, everything you feared, you wanted this. You wanted him. But the second you felt yourself giving in, you pushed him back, your hands pressed against his chest, trying to regain some control. 

"Stop doing that," you snapped, breathless.

"Doing what?" He sounded just as breathless, but he didn’t step away.

"Kissing me like you can fix this. Like—like I’m just gonna believe you."

He exhaled sharply, his hands gripping your waist, keeping you close. "You don’t have to believe me now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll prove it to you, okay? Just stop trying to run every time it gets hard."

"I don’t know how to do this," you admitted quietly, your hands still resting against his chest, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

"I’ll show you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Just stop pushing me away."

For a moment, you let yourself just be there with him, your defenses crumbling piece by piece. You didn’t know how long it would last, or if you could even survive it, but maybe… just maybe, he was worth the risk.

But still, you couldn’t help but mutter, "You’re so stupid, you know that?"

His lips twitched into a smile. “And you’re still kissing me, again, so what does that say about you?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way your lips twitched with a smirk of your own.

 “Says I’m just as stupid as you,” you muttered under your breath, but the words lacked bite. Your hands stayed on his chest, fingers still gripping his polo like you were afraid to let go, like maybe if you held on tight enough, you wouldn’t fall apart, “Do you always go around kissing the saff?” You mumbled out.

Rafe’s hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you in closer. His forehead still rested against yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and steady, brushing against your skin. It was infuriating how easy it was to melt into him.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with the start of a grin, “Only the ones who can’t seem to stay away from me.”

You groaned, shoving him in the chest with just enough force to make him stumble back a step. “God, you’re insufferable.”

He caught your wrists before you could pull away completely, his grip gentle, keeping you close enough that you could still feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes. “Yeah, well, you seem to like insufferable.”

“Do I though?” You quipped, trying to sound indifferent, but your heartbeat was giving you away. You could feel it hammering in your chest, “Because I feel like this whole thing is a bad idea. You know, like ‘kiss the rich guy, ruin your life’ kind of bad idea.”

Rafe’s expression softened, and the teasing glint in his eyes faded. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You tried to play dumb.

“Talk like this doesn’t mean something. Like I don’t mean something to you.” His voice was low, but there was a seriousness in it that made your stomach flip. “We’ve been doing this dance for a while now, and every time it starts to get real, you act like it’s just… casual.”

Your throat tightened, and you tried to pull your wrists free, but he didn’t let go, making it clear he wasn’t letting you run again.

“Maybe it is casual,” you said, even though the words tasted like a lie. “Maybe we’re just two people having a good time, and that’s it.”

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in that way that made your chest ache. “Nah. You’re not fooling me anymore. You don’t kiss someone like you kissed me just for fun.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “Rafe…”

“And you don’t look at me like that when I walk in unless there’s more to it.” His voice softened as his thumb traced light circles against your skin. “So stop pretending it’s nothing.”

“I should be working.”

But Rafe wasn’t letting you off that easy. “Yeah, you probably should,” he said, but his hands didn’t move, and neither did his eyes.

“So you’re gonna let me go?”

“Why’d you kiss me that day?” he asked, "I’ve been wondering.”

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the question. He was so close, and it was hard to think, let alone answer something that felt so…disarming like everything you’d been running from was waiting in his words.

"I don’t know," you groaned, suddenly feeling like a cornered animal. "I wasn’t thinking straight."

His fingers traced a slow line down your arm, sending shivers through you. "You sure about that?" His voice was quiet, like he already knew you were lying, knew you too well for you to hide behind that excuse. "Because it didn’t feel like just some random kiss."

You scoffed, trying to laugh it off, trying to keep your cool, but the sound came out shaky.

"It was— I don’t know, Rafe. It was just the heat of the moment, okay? The storm… everything." You bit your lip, avoiding his gaze because you knew he wasn’t buying it. "You saved me, and I guess I was—"

"Grateful?" he interrupted, his brow arching. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

You winced. "I didn’t mean it like that."

“Yeah, well, it sure sounds like you’re trying to make it seem like it meant nothing. Like you didn’t feel anything when you kissed me.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond right away. He wasn’t wrong. That kiss had meant something—maybe more than you were ready to admit to yourself, let alone to him.

“You can’t keep acting like you don’t care, because I know you do. You wouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t.”

The way he said it, so certain, so sure of himself—it made your heart race even faster. 

“Why do you care so much?” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Why does it matter?”

He frowned, like you had just asked the stupidest question in the world. “Because it matters to me.”

Your chest tightened at that, and you hated how much you wanted to believe him. "I don’t want to get hurt, Rafe."

"I’m not gonna hurt you." His voice was low, serious, like a promise, but you’d heard promises like that before. "I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care. I’m asking for a chance, just one chance. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest tightened as you stared up at him. He was serious. Like, really serious. And you were scared out of your mind because you wanted to believe him so badly. But trusting someone, letting them in? That was terrifying.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, finally admitting it out loud.

“I know,” he murmured, his forehead resting gently against yours. “But I’m scared too, okay? I want to be with you. So, please, just… give us a shot.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, your mind racing a hundred miles per hour.

You could still feel his lips on yours, the way he made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could let your guard down for once. And the truth was, despite all the reasons you’d been telling yourself to walk away, your heart was telling you to stay.

 “Okay.”

His breath caught. “Okay?”

You opened your eyes, “Yeah, okay. I’ll give you a chance. Don’t screw it up.”

Rafe’s lips curved into that stupid, cocky grin, “I won’t. I promise.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead, you found yourself smiling back. 

Maybe this was crazy, maybe you were setting yourself up for heartbreak or maybe you’d really found yourself a soulmate.

[tricoloreddango]

Yandere Phainon inspecting your body

Phainon x gn! reader

cw: dubcon-ish touch and exposure, yandere Phainon, suggestive, clothes withholding, love bombing, humiliation, reader is insecure, Phainon is slightly delusional. Word count: 1.5k

Imagine Phainon being so obsessed with you that he feels compelled to inspect every part of your body.

There was nothing about you that Phainon didn’t glorify, whether some parts of you would be considered as imperfections by others or not. Anything less fitting for the beauty canon only made you more human to him.

Unfortunately for you, such sentiments got him force you to face each of your insecurities, as you now stood in front of him in nothing but your underwear, for him to inspect your body. You weren’t much eager to end up in this situation, but Phainon’s few sweet and affectionate poet-like lines got you convinced enough to let him put you in this state. Suddenly, your shared bedroom no longer felt like a safe space for you to rest in his arms and talk to him about anything your mind has gathered throughout the day.

You didn’t move, a sense of shame and humiliation burning you and keeping you in your spot. Instead, it was Phainon circling you, his eyes scanning each part of your body with looks of appreciation or analysis. You’ve never felt more vulnerable in your life before, because while you’ve been intimate with Phainon before, he never made it a show of scrutinizing you; or rather, it was easy to forget yourself and acknowledgment of your physical being when lost in bliss.

You felt even more nervous when he finally stopped in front of you, a supposedly warm smile on his face. What will he do now? “You look so tense as if I’m going to eat you up or something,” he chuckled lightly, his voice so soft that it didn’t match the stressful situation. “I just wish to admire my other half for a little bit.”

Phainon was either not aware of the discomfort and creep this circumstance would have brought anyone, or he simply made you look like a fool here—you’re so silly, so shy, so insecure over nothing and he’s your loving lover worshipping you regardless.

When his hand landed on your stomach, you immediately tried to grab his hand, but he kept it on your belly. “Phainon, I think you’ve seen enough!” you protested in distress, feeling out of your body’s comfort, when he caressed one of the rolls here. “Shh, my love. You have nothing to worry about,” he said reassuringly and kissed your forehead, but any further protests, he’ll simply ignore. In his mind, you were just too self conscious over nothing, and exposure therapy might do you well. Isn’t this what people wanted, to be accepted by their partners for each part of them? He found you most beautiful anyway.

You felt like crying. Your belly was one of the most sensitive spots on the list of your insecurities, and now you had to be worried where his hand will land next. And you were right to worry, as his right hand ended going up onto your nose next.

“Such a cute nose,” he said gently, rubbing his finger down the bridge of your nose that was curving to the side. A little bit crooked, enough to make you hate it sometimes. Your nose scrunched upon his touch, both from intrusion and your growing sense of unease, only for Phainon to chuckle again. “You are quite sensitive here too! Maybe I should kiss your face all over the next time.”

The idea should have sounded affectionate to you, yet with how unbearable he made his touches, his words filled you only with worry. You really weren’t sure how comfortable with Phainon’s touch you will be after he’s finally, hopefully, done with the body inspection. “Phainon, I’m not feeling like—“ you tried to say no again, but you gave up in the middle when you noticed he wasn’t even listening to you. You assumed letting him do this will end this circus show sooner.

Phainon was instead busy being marveled by the idea of your beauty he created in his mind; coming up with it each moment of analyzing and deciding that you have a lot he loved about, but even more he didn’t want others to see. “I don’t think I ever want to let you go, beloved,” he whispered to himself.

It was becoming ironic that any other day you’d cry from the happiness hearing such words, only for them to be uncomfortable to hear this time.

Phainon moved to stand behind you next moment, making you feel less in control when you couldn’t see his face and judge his intention on it. You jolted when he touched your back, no matter how warm his hand was. The spot was so specific and you knew he found your mole, one you always hid by denying yourself of backless clothes; more darker and bigger than the rest, enough for you to deem it as disgusting.

His voice was cheerful anyway, “Haha, I must have left that mole on your back in the previous life you had. I’ve heard that moles are where a soulmate kissed you in your previous existence.” The implication of him considering himself to be your soulmate in this life too was clear. Would you really want to be bonded to him for the rest of your life? You felt loved by Phainon, but each day of Phainon monopolizing you in his life has started to overwhelm you lately.

At this point, tears started to gather on your lashline. Phainon didn’t see your face, but he noticed the small tremble of your back, and leaned in to kiss your mole between your shoulder blades. “These must be the tears of happiness, I assume,” he murmured against your skin, as he enjoyed the warmth of your skin against his face and wanted to stay like this for a second—human’s flesh to flesh, all alive—with his cheek pressed against your back. “To finally have someone who will love you regardless of your imperfections, when others may not be so accepting of you.”

You suddenly squirmed and tried to move forwards after hearing that. Phainon made it sound like a compliment, but in your state of mind or maybe even objectively, this compliment was nothing but backhanded. He wasn’t denying you have something to worry about—instead, he was confirming your imperfections are indeed real and to worry about, and that others might actually hate them like you do. Phainon didn’t let you move, and wrapped his arms around you, and after trying to fight him off of you for long, dreadful seconds, you finally gave up and broke down.

He held you behind you like this, letting you cry in his arms. “I know, I know,” he said softly, trying to comfort you. “You have nothing to worry about anymore, not if you have me.” He kissed your shoulder gently, he kept spilling soothing words into your ear, and you squirmed again. You wanted to scream in frustration at how much he misunderstood. You weren’t happy, you weren’t relieved, you felt as if each part of you was unpeeled from your body for him to see and made to sound as if they were actually ugly—just accepted.

It’s your body first, and so a mind exploration was just a matter of time with him.

Especially now, when even your crying sounded and looked beautiful to Phainon. He was more focused on observing you than worried about your feelings, his love for you growing, as even your vulnerability was worth of worshiping. He felt so departed from his human side, it felt comforting to see humanity through you. And even if you might feel rejected by others, wouldn’t it mean you’ll need him even more?

Right when your cries were near dying down, you thought this torture was finally over, just for Phainon to grab onto your thighs next—in your mind, so disproportionally big to the rest of your body. He was standing behind you still, talking directly into your ear. “So soft… I wish I could sleep on your thighs every night, instead of our pillows…” he mused teasingly, and his grip on your waist tightened from his excitement he felt from just talking about you for so long like a madman. “Though I assume that wouldn’t be really comfortable for you. However…” Phainon’s voice was filled with intention. You felt dread fill you—your lover clearly wasn’t done with you, when you already felt near breaking point for today. You just stopped crying!

“I think you should stay undressed like this,” he continued his speech with contented tone, making you feel scared at this point. Trashing in his grasp didn’t stop his romanticized talk, one you desperately wished to shut down as you couldn’t bear this undressed state anymore. “I wish to see you like this for a bit longer, just for the rest of the night while I hold you in your sleep. I’m sure there’s many more parts of you I didn’t get to fully explore and love.” But you didn’t feel like you’ll be able to sleep near him tonight, not when he plans to stare at you like a creep all night.

Before you could protest again, Phainon maneuvered you around, needing to kiss you with desperation after all that he has learned about his lover today.

[picturejasper20]

So the ¨Best of Luck¨ has quite a lot of going on and could have worked better as second part episode but it still shows well the aftermath of the Operation Birthday Takeback with Dev lashing out and blaming Hazel for ¨stealing¨ his father's attention from him.

We see that Dev went back to his own self and he seems to be kinda worse than he was at the start of the season. He demands for Peri to grant wishes that could ruin Hazel's day or make him win the paper-rock tournament. Peri tries explaining to Dev that he can't do that because of the rules. The two get angry with each other, making Peri go away to i assume would be Fairy World.

On a side comment i was surprised to see Peri still with Dev after this episode after the ending from the last one? I guess it is because Peri is still Dev's godparent, making Peri stay with him. However, we still see that there is a lot of tension between them and they have a fight, so their argument in previous episode still carries weight on here.

While Peri is away, Irep (Peri's anti-fairy) takes the opportunity to become Dev's godparent. Irep thinks that Peri quit being the kid's godparent and takes advantage of Dev's desire to break the rules and his hatred for Hazel to bring chaos on the school.

Dev asks Irep to be let him into the rock-paper competition again and bring bad luck to Hazel. The rest of the episode is about Hazel dealing with all this bad luck and finding a way to counterattack it, all the time without knowing it was happening because of Dev.

Dev manages to win the tournament and tries rubbing it on Hazel's face, only to get praised by Hazel. He gets angry at seeing that he couldn't make Hazel miserable as he wanted and ends up revealing that he has been working with Irep to cheat in the competition and give her bad luck.

Dev asks for Irep to grant him more ¨illegal¨ wishes. Cosmo and Wanda have a magic duel against Irep, causing chaos all over the school's entrance. Around a minute later Jorgen shows up with Peri and reveals that Peri didn't quit and he was in fact taking a break from Dev.

Jorgen undos all the wishes that Irep granted and throws Irep back into the anti-fairy world. Everything returns to normal and Peri is still Dev's godparent. Based on a line from Peri, it seems that Peri was aware that Irep could take advantage of him being missing and he decided to keep an eye on Dev because of this. It is strange why he didn't show up sooner if that was the case. Maybe he didn't check on Dev until some time later when the real chaos started? I don't know.

Near the end of the episode Hazel tries talking to Dev to see what his problem is, in response Dev pushes her away and insults her, making Hazel get angry at him in return and probably cutting him off for the moment. You can see that there is a moment that Dev appears to hesitate when Hazel is talking to him only to go back to his cold self. I think he was likely believing that Hazel was ¨faking¨ being nice to him + still feeling upset for Dale paying more attention to Hazel. He still doesn't Dale doesn't care about him and prefers lashing out and blaming Hazel or the fairies for it.

The episode ends with him leaving and asking his machines to search more information about the anti-fairies, setting up for future plot threats of him teaming up with Irep again or other anti-fairies.

In Best of Luck we see Dev falling into a more antagonistic-villain path, with Irep taking advantage of his anger and desire to break the rules. He is really out to make Hazel miserable- both for believing she ¨faked¨ their friendship all this time and Dale not paying him attention. It could be seen as him trying to make Hazel miserable as she ¨made¨ him feel in Operation Birthday Takeback. From Hazel's part, she tried reasoning with Dev like she did back in the museum episode but Dev is too upset to consider talking to her. Hazel is probably going to have a similar feeling of anger against Dev in the upcoming episodes, unless they are somehow able to talk things through.

[nutterzebutters]

Honestly given the update I'd like to say a few thigns

First things first, white lily cookies separation!

This character is so brief that one might not think about it, however I do have it in mind that this Tower keeper had purposely reminded pure vanilla and white lily of the riddle in order to push Lily to make a decision sooner, rather than later as originally intended. I do believe it was a good decision for her to go off on her own, as we all know that pure vanilla is quite lost on the topic of dark enchantress vs lily- at this very time we are unsure if truthless recluse is a further repressed version or a version that has somewhat accepted it. Furthermore, if truthless recluse is a shard/illusion I do feel it may defeat a lot of storyline purpose, and do hope that it is truly a pure vanilla or part of him that has since transformed.

As for this sprite - I will not lie this is not the Sprite I was expecting to be edited for beast eyes! I totally expected the mental breakdown Sprite. I've seen a few say that this might not be pure vanilla as Shadow milk is tampering with memories- however!!!

Part of the tactic is to put pure vanilla in situations so that he may react himself in order for shadow milk to place the narrative that he will become just as bad as him. He can use these reactions and insecurities against pure vanilla- after all he poked at pure vanilla on the matter of Lily becoming dark enchantress. That she may have been more qualified to wield the power of Truth regardless, using pure vanilla's self perceived failures as the device.

This one's a little peculiar, I have a few ideas here.

Step one, I feel I should clarify if it's not already obvious that the implication of pure vanilla being Shadow milk is not a literal one~but one that works in tandem with the ladder truth of the story. Much like Shadow milk, pure vanilla does lie! Even if Shadow milk used it for his own game, pure vanilla is self-aware enough to recognize that he too has lied so that cookies may find a sweeter world. Even if it's about himself, or about the situation at hand regardless if it was for comfort it is always dug him into a hole and has even gotten him in trouble with friends. He too is somebody that has been shown to be skilled tactically- it is very reasonable to say that beyond the soul jam this was the sub-context shadow milk was bothering pure vanilla about back in episode 2 of beast yeast, "the biggest liar" as a means to place on pv.

Now let's talk about the sheer silent terror that Truthless recluse is bc I can't express enough how unnerving he could be.

Throughout the entire time, fortune teller cookie still kept a rather calm demeanor. Keeping pure vanillas soft spoken attitude and quick thinking when it comes to help- even when faced with his current self. He was silent, he was an observer and he did it without much hassle showing how cold and calculating fortune teller cookie operates. It's a different type of imposing presence than Shadow milk but I would imagine it isn't any less cold.

It does not seem that shadow milk had given him any power boost either, rather that he was holding back the first time gingerbrave and Co fought him. This is a character who is making moves with precision bearing a frigid expression not at all like the warmth that the characters have come to know. The safety that was pure vanilla cookie has been ripped out from under Earth bread at this point, as for a large majority he has somehow remained the catalyst/nexus for a lot of progress events in the main story..

-----------------

I don't have a screenshot of this part, but I do remember golden cheese appearing next to clotted cream in the Republic! I do feel that shadow milk had used the likeness of such figures to instill what may have been a previous anxiety of pure vanillas. Especially towards golden cheese, whom seeks comfort in the fact that he has experienced the same events regarding his kingdom. It shows that for pure vanilla there's always been a confliction and form of denial regarding Lily- losing the trust of everybody he has put every effort into protecting is definitely a huge fear.

I'd also like to point out in case some were confused, the doubt pv has of his power being Shadow Milks is not merely a ownership conflict despite the wording!!!!!! I can already smell the misinterpretations.

It's that everything pure vanilla has worked through was only really lent to him, his skills and anything else that may connect to the soul jam has created a permanent tether to the ladder: making it near impossible to escape. Even from episode 2, Shadow milk has set up the very open paranoia of forever watching pure vanilla- it's a consistency so we cannot say for sure that this part is a lie!! After all, in the developer commentary live stream it stated that shadow milk is more incomprehensible than the other beasts- and just unlike the other beasts his relationship with pure vanilla and the way their soul jam works is entirely different.

Pure vanilla is aware that now that shadow milk has been there the entire time, he needed to be extra careful. Now with this vision he feels that he can't use it at all unless he wants to bring danger to the cookies he cares for- damned if he does and damned if he doesn't! As if the soul jam attached to him is nothing but a tracking device with a chain.

Just like the countless appearances of Shadow milk you can only really go off of consistencies in a world of lies. One of these consistencies is the idea that pure vanilla is more connected to the other-realm/dark side of the moon then your typical cookie. It's hard to say if he inherently came from the realm, like some sort of magic birth such as candy apple but the fact that shadow milk left it so open ended leaves it as a possibility-

NOW. I will not be showing the awakened spoilers, as I am aware they are about and circling. For those who wish not to see it, I will not show it! However I will talk about a few details that I will keep for the sake of selective obscurity as I do believe that the pure vanilla Nation won💀

We all remember the theories?? Hell, even with the connections to moonlight and keys. Y'all he's gorgeous. I cannot WAIT until he gets patched in. It also seems that some of truthless recluse stayed! Hinting to the idea that pure vanilla did not escape unscathed and reinforcing the narrative that being somewhat more intertwined with Shadow milk is not a lie. That pure vanilla will eventually gravitate towards a different balance, Fun things!

[sunnie-angel]

Part 2: The Decision

part 1 | part 3 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason todd easily sees the potential for something more in his friendship with you but resolves to keep his distance.

tags: fluff, self-loathing, off-screen killing

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.8k

a/n: sooo i had planned to get the second chapter out much sooner, wrote it, realized that what i had planned for chapter 3 worked better, had to rewrite chapter 3 as chapter 2, and ended up here (cue the internal screaming). on the upside, that means you’ll all get an update on chapter 3 (formerly chapter 2) much sooner.

Jason Todd has somehow gotten back on track to graduate university, fallen in with a group of friends, and may have found the first person to truly understand him this side of the Pit. He’d been uncertain about finishing university, already dealing with the hassle of running a criminal empire and the tattered threads of his family relationships. But Talia had suggested, “Better not to be consumed by revenge so that one may properly enjoy its results,” and that had been all it took to convince him. Barbara, for all their problems still unresolved, had helped him hide the decision from the bats and hadn’t that been a lovely conversation to have?

Sitting in class that first day had been strange, a sense of deja vu hitting him of all the times he’d sat in classrooms before. A different person answers now when he’s called on to introduce Jason Todd. As part of his time with the League, Talia had arranged for him to take courses by correspondence but none of that had prepared him for it would be like to be in a classroom with a handful of 20-somethings. It makes him feel old to hear them discuss their plans for the future with the surety of a world that will shape itself to their expectations. If he’s honest with himself, it also makes him envious.

He hadn’t expected to be invited to lunch that first day, though he’d at least seen the blonde’s approach. It had been… nice to be noticed, like he was any other 22 year old new to campus and looking for friends. What had really caught Jason’s eye though was Danika’s (that’s what her name was, right?) friend, standing a few rows back. She’d looked downright mortified by her friend’s antics but had smiled tentatively at him anyway. He’d rushed through his meeting with Dr. Okafor, really just confirming a time to discuss his credit transfers. Clearly he’s interrupted yet another embarrassing moment for you, but you handle it with a grace that rivals only Alfred’s ability to deal with inconvenient situations.

That intrigues him though, your kindness even when uncomfortable. Finding out you’re from home, another Crime Alley kid that defied the odds but never forgot your roots endears you to him even more. You bite back, take the attention away from him when you see how flustered he is by Lina calling him pretty and he’s determined now to make you a friend.

You’re smaller than he thought once you’re finally sitting next to him. He’s acutely aware of how the booth forces the two of you together, the long length of him pressed up against your side. The way your knee knocks into his thigh and the soft cushion of where your hip meets his. You’re one of his already, one of those that the Red Hood has claimed as under his protection, but the reality of you drives home who his work is really helping. Your mention of food pulls him out of his thoughts and scrambling to rectify the situation by offering to share his own. He’s positively delighted by your reaction, the way your compliments freely given still have a bite to them that’s honest. A warmth in his stomach that doesn’t originate from the spices in his meal only makes him want to figure out more ways to draw you out of your shell.

You share another class with him in the afternoon and he’s thanking whichever lucky star is smiling down at him that he’ll get you to himself at least once a week for the next few months. Walking into class with an acquaintance, though maybe it's too soon to call you that, is everything he wanted in the time from Before. Lost day dreams of sharing a desk with a friend in high school, hanging out together after, longings for in-jokes and shared histories are rearing their heads. Class passes quickly, a flurry of information and a hyper awareness of how close his body is to yours. It’s only an introductory class, but already he can tell that you’re clever from the few times you speak up. Makes him look forward to the next class when he’d never planned for academics to be his priority.

Class lets out into the evening air just starting to turn crisp with a hint of dampness. He’ll have to go soon, get started with patrol now that darkness was coating the city. He turns to you and distracts himself from the strip of skin where your shirt rides up as you stretch by asking you about your plans for the evening. Walking you to the bus stop is nice, in a quiet kind of way. He stays until he’s sure you’re safely on the bus, doors closing with a pneumatic hiss. Walks off the path and out of the halo of the street lamp until the shadows have swallowed him whole. Takes care to check that no one’s looking and scales the side of the building, gothic stonework rough under his bare palms. Scans the horizon until he’s found your bus again and goes to follow. Thinks that maybe the paranoia that had persuaded him to pack most of his Hood gear in a school bag isn’t the worst thing to suffer from. It’s overboard yeah, but you’re a pretty girl planning to walk alone at night. He just wants to make sure that you get home all right. You weren’t exaggerating when you said the bus stop was only a block from your apartment, but he still breathes easier when he sees the warm glow of lamp light click on through your apartment window. You should have better locks on your window if it’s looking out onto a fire escape, he thinks idly. But its a problem for later and when he’s got a more solid reason to bring it up.

Patrol is quiet most of the night. Buoyed by the unexpected success of the day, his usual route feels brand new. He takes pleasure in the way the wind picks up his jacket and whips it around him, almost laughs out loud at the way his stomach swoops before the grappling line pulls taut. Jason’s managed a full day of normalcy, something that no one thought he could do. Not after everything. He’d talked to people his age that for once weren’t the victim of some terrible crime and came away with the potential for friendships. It’s been a long time since he’s had more than a work related conversation with his men or a cryptic conversation with Talia he doesn’t count all the arguments with his fath— with Bruce. For the first time in a long time being the Hood isn’t the burden it had become. The peace doesn’t last for long though.

A whisper of black fabric on a rooftop just outside of the territory he’s established brings him crashing back down, a reminder of just how badly his attempts at anything other than solitude have fractured. It’s a bracing kind hurt, like when the air’s too cold after a snowfall and you can practically taste the ice crystals as they tear into the soft heat of your lungs. He needs it though, that reminder that no one who knows him is capable of seeing him without the siren call of suspicion following him. That thought follows him through the rest of patrol and the mechanical motions of getting to bed. It solidifies as he drifts off to sleep just as the first rays of light start to clear the skyline. He’ll grasp at this chance to be someone else for a bit, Jason Todd the fresh faced student, but that’s all it’ll be. A façade to keep everyone else from getting too close. Danika, Will, “call me Lina”, Rei, even you. Friends, but at a distance.

Jason doesn’t have any classes on Tuesday, but he runs into you as he exits his meeting with Dr. Okafor. It’s a new building to him, despite the time he’s spent pouring over all of the campus’ blueprints. He turns a corner on a staircase looking for an exit and almost knocks you back down where you’d just emerged from.

“Hey! Are you blind or— oh. Jason.” Your tone goes from indignant to wondering in a second, eyes wide with recognition.

“Not blind, but definitely not paying enough attention. You good though?” And he should probably be a little more sorry about it, but the glee of not having to wait until the next week to see you again outweighs it.

“Oh after the class I just had, it’d take a lot more than that to ruin my day.” A group tries to pass you two on the stairs, buffets the two of you into the railing.

“You wanna take this somewhere else? Give me another chance to ruin your day?” He grins, lopsided but hopeful.

You nod, and he leads the way, hulking figure cutting through the stream of people. He finds a nook on the first floor, big overstuffed chairs surprisingly empty for this time of day. You throw yourself into a chair dramatically, a sigh on your lips as your head tilts back.

���Class really that bad?” He prompts you.

“God I hate assholes that manage to make the most interesting subject painful. Like, at least wait until the second class before you start telling every single student their interpretation is wrong.” You swipe a hand across your face before visibly trying to pull yourself back together. “But as much as I hate Duvall’s teaching it’s mandatory for my program so I’m just gonna have to put up with his shit until next semester. Get my revenge during prof evaluations.”

“Look we don’t know each other that well, but by my reckonin’ you know what you’re on about. Don’t let him shake you, yeah?”

“Oh I know all about not listening to people that think my opinion isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. It just pisses me off that I still gotta deal with it every week for the foreseeable future.”

“Hey I’m all ears.” He offers, and it’s not entirely altruistic. Jason wants to support you, but it’s also a chance to learn more about you. It’s all a chance to be regular civilian he tells himself, and a civilian would do this for a friend.

“I’d love to but I think it’s right about—“ and the alarm on your phone sounds out, “yep, its about time for me to head to my internship.” You start to gather your things together. “But usually our group gets together on Wednesday afternoons to grab lunch and study together. We usually grab the same table in the student union around noon if you want to join us.”

Jason does join the study session, not that he needs to. But it's nice to spend time with people who like who they think he is. He arrives just as you slide into the booth, secures himself the seat next you (and the rest of the bench for himself). Your hair falls as you spread out your books and Jason’s close enough to smell whatever product you used last. It dazes him for a minute, and its only the arrival of Lina and Rei that shakes him out of his stupor. He starts up a conversation with Rei on the Gotham U swim team and gets roped in to come practice with him sometime next week. Not to be out done, Lina gently starts asking him how he’s settling in. He answers noncommittally, more focused on the way you’ve started to twirl your pen between your fingers as you come across a particularly dense passage. Seeming to understand that she won’t get much more out of Jason, Lina nudges Rei and they turn to their own books, though not without a tight-lipped and knowing smile on her face. The four of you work in silence broken only by the scribbling of pens and clacking of keyboards. Danika and Will turn up just as your stomach starts rumbling, causing you to meet Jason’s eyes in embarrassment.

He winks at you, before pulling out two Tupperware containers with chopsticks. Sliding one over to you he pretends not to notice as at first you protest, then guiltily start digging in as soon as you smell it.

Brandishing your chopsticks at him, you say “Don’t think I’m not keeping score mister. This has got to count as psychological warfare, there’s no way a sane person could turn you down after tasting your food once.”

He tucks a smile away and simply keeps eating. Will drags over some chairs for him and Danika, the one extra person throwing off your previously established seating arrangements. Conversation buzzes at the other end of the table but he can’t tear his attention away from you enjoying the labours of his hands. Eventually the table turns back to studying and you slide the container back to him with murmured words of thanks. Even you can only study for so long, so it's no great surprise when your books softly thump closed. You rest your forehead on the table and groan.

“Why is there so much reading? It’s only the first week back.”

“Ooooh, you know what that means though?” Danika exclaims. “We have to celebrate the first week back and that means going out! We’ll get dressed up, I’ll do your makeup, we can pregame at mine. You know you want to.” She wheedles.

You mock groan at her pronouncement, turn to rest your temple on the table to make eye contact with her. “Lina does my makeup and we’re done by 1 AM.”

“Awe, killjoy,” the blonde pouts.

“Lina does my makeup, Jason’s in charge of picking the post-club takeout, and we’re done by 2 AM. Final offer.”

Lina grins at Jason before shrugging. “Fine by me.”

Jason’s not sure what to expect when he shows up to the address Danika had sent through the group text. It’s a nicer part of town, a part of Gotham Heights he’s had no reason to visit as either of his identities. The doorman lets him in without too much fuss once Danika calls down to confirm he’s expected. She lets him in excitedly, limbs uncoordinated with the help of a few drinks. Rei leans forward to pour Jason a drink and at the same time you turn to look for who had arrived. The first thing Jason notices is the shiny red lip gloss you’re wearing as your lips spread into a smile at the sight of them. Something about the colour, bolder than you usually wear, sends heat straight to his groin. He hadn’t even realized that his hearing had gone muffled until Rei asks him for a second time how many shots Jason wants in his drink. Oh, he thinks distractedly. This could be a problem.

It definitely is a problem when he’s washing blood off his hands in the early hours of the morning and the only thing he can think of is that same cherry red lip gloss wrapped around the straw of your drink under the club’s strobing lights. How you’d looked up at him with pupils dilated from the drink and the heat, lips parted and gloss catching the light. The self-loathing hits then, crippling in its intensity. You’re smart and funny and so pretty it makes his breath catch. The last thing you need is him fantasizing after you less than an hour after he’d taken a life. The colour of a man’s life blood shouldn’t be causing him desperate to see if you’d taste as sweet as you look. It’s selfish and cowardly but he doesn’t want to give you up just yet. Doesn’t want to see the little smiles and commiserating looks turn to fear and hatred just yet. No, he can do this. He can smile and play nice, play at the Jason Todd you deserve. The one that won’t make you worry or hurt you with the truth of himself. Rules, he decides, rules are what he needs because it’s oh so easy to get caught up in you.

He can get close, but he can’t touch. It doesn’t matter how soft your skin looks or how tempting it would be to play with your hair. If he lets himself touch he is lost.

He will never let himself enter your home. He’s already followed you there, it’s a lost cause to pretend that he won’t check up on your safety. Better to decide now to never cross that final threshold.

He won’t let you in. He’ll be the best friend he is capable of being but he won’t let you see the truth of him. After all, it’s what’s sent those that know him running.

He will never tell you that he’s ever thought about anything more than friendship.

Part 3

[aphoticarachne]

What is this feeling?

Tom Riddle x reader

Chapter iii

Chapter ii

Warning: choking?? Whoops

a/n: I hate this chapter sm oh my god

September’s chill clung to the stone walls of the castle, sharp and unrelenting. The Great Hall, usually alive with chatter, had quieted to a murmur as a few determined students hunched over their books. You sat at the far edge of the Slytherin table, the last traces of daylight casting fleeting shadows over the polished wood.

Zelda had insisted you leave the library, claiming you needed a break from your relentless study habits, though her version of "reviewing" was little more than thinly veiled gossip.

When you mentioned being paired with Tom Riddle for your Potions project, she recoiled as if struck, her disdain for him as palpable as his contempt for you.

"How do you even breathe in the same room as him?" Zelda hissed, her lips curling into something between a sneer and a grimace. "If it were me, I’d have cursed him six ways to Sunday."

"I hate him as much as you do," you murmured, your eyes fixed on the dense text before you, though the words blurred into meaningless lines.

"Hate isn’t enough," she snapped. "Everyone knows he’s been gunning for you since first year, and for what? You’re brighter than him, that’s what it is. Can’t handle the competition." She leaned closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. "If I were you, I’d tell Slughorn to shove his cauldron—"

"Ladies."

His voice cut through the air like a knife, low and deliberate. You stiffened, the pages of your spellbook forgotten as you glanced up to meet his gaze.

Tom stood just beyond the table, perfectly composed as always, the golden light from the stained-glass windows spilling over his features, giving him an otherworldly, almost angelic quality. But you knew better—angels did not lurk in shadows, and they certainly didn’t wear that expression of quiet cruelty.

"Miss Zabini," he began, his tone sharp and dispassionate, "surely you’re aware students are expected to remain at their own House tables."

Zelda tilted her head, her lips curling into a slow, mocking smile. "Riddle, if you keep your tie any tighter, I imagine it’ll strangle what little humanity you’ve got left."

His expression didn’t waver, though something flickered behind his eyes. "Leave," he said, his voice calm but cold, "or I’ll be forced to inform your Head of House."

Mocking him under her breath, Zelda stood and shot you a grin before strolling off.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" you said, not bothering to look up as you turned another page in your book.

"Mayhaps if you didn't surround yourself with halfwits like that Gryffindor, you'd actually accomplish something worthwile." His words were as sharp as his gaze, which raked over you with a deliberate slowness that felt more invasive than curious.

"I’ve already finished my work. Why do you care? It’s the weekend, Riddle. Go find someone else to torment."

"Are you attending Slughorn's dinner tonight?" he asked, his voice carefully measured with seriousness.

The Slug Club—an infamous little cabal of Slughorn's favored students. Exclusive, elitist, and insufferably self-important. You and Tom had been inducted in your fourth year, both chosen for reasons that aligned with Slughorn's peculiar calculus of prestige and potential. The dinners were tedious at best, but you had never missed one. Not entirely out of obligation, though. You had quickly discovered that your presence, as unwelcome as it was to Tom, was an exquisite way to unsettle him. Watching his carefully constructed façade fracture, even for a moment, had become a quiet thrill.

You closed your spellbook deliberately, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes. "I am," you replied, your lips curling into a smirk. "Why? You wish to escort me, Riddle?"

His expression hardened, that cool veneer slipping to reveal a glimmer of something darker, sharper. "I would sooner be scorched to ash by a Hungarian Horntail than be seen anywhere with you. Do not flatter yourself."

"Then why are you asking?" you countered, your tone cutting, the faintest edge of amusement lingering beneath your words.

For a moment, he seemed poised to answer, but the silence stretched, heavy and charged. Without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows of the hall, his cloak billowing behind him. You exhaled slowly, rolling your eyes at his endless need to cloak himself in that maddening, calculated mystery.

Slughorn's office was always transformed for these dinners—lavish, yet suffocating. The floating candles cast their warm glow over the room, illuminating the walls adorned with portraits of Slug Club alumni, all frozen in postures of smug accomplishment. The air carried a faint sweetness from the polished oak furniture and spiced wine, a reminder of Slughorn’s particular tastes.

The moment you stepped through the door, Slughorn himself greeted you with his usual joviality, his round face crinkling with delight as he clasped your hand. After enduring a few moments of pleasantries, you excused yourself, weaving through the small crowd to find Archibald Fawley. Archie, the Minister’s nephew and a fellow Slytherin, greeted you warmly, his smile earnest and open.

He was the sort of boy your father would have approved of—well-bred, intelligent, polite. But to you, he was only Archie. A loyal friend and nothing more. No matter how hard he tried to veil his feelings behind jokes or light conversation, you couldn’t return them. The gentle affection in his gaze was matched only by the regret you knew it caused him.

As you laughed softly at something Archie had said, a prickling sensation spread across the back of your neck. You felt the weight of a gaze before you saw it. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Abraxas Malfoy watching you, his expression unreadable, his goblet poised at his lips. His focus was unwavering, and though you were used to the unwanted attention of certain members of the Slug Club, his stare sent an uneasy chill down your spine. There was something about Abraxas—something not quite right.

On the other side of the room, Tom stood beside him, his dark eyes sharp and calculating as he observed the interaction. His expression betrayed nothing, but the faintest flicker of something—disdain? Irritation?—danced beneath the surface. He noticed everything. How Abraxas' attention drifted from their conversation to you, how his gaze lingered too long.

"Malfoy," Tom said, his voice cutting through the haze of Abraxas' thoughts.

Abraxas blinked, startled. "What?"

"You stare at her as if she's some unattainable prize," Tom murmured, his tone even but laced with quiet malice. "If you're so fascinated, go. Dance with her."

Abraxas furrowed his brow, unsure if he had misheard. "Excuse me?"

Tom stepped closer, his presence suddenly suffocating. "I don't repeat myself, Malfoy. You disgrace yourself gawking like a child. I expected better." His words were a low, venomous whisper, the faintest smirk curling at the corners of his mouth as his eyes flicked toward you.

Abraxas hesitated, his fingers tightening around his goblet. "I don’t want to—"

"Do you take me for a fool?" Tom interrupted, his voice colder now, more dangerous. "You, of all people, should know what I am capable of. Do not insult me with lies."

Abraxas faltered, the blood draining from his face. He set his goblet down with trembling hands and nodded, walking stiffly toward you. Tom watched, his expression unreadable, but his knuckles whitened against his own goblet as his eyes lingered on you—laughing, carefree, with Archie Fawley.

Why did Tom compel his closest companion—if such a term could truly be applied to anyone in his orbit—to dance with her? He didn’t know.

He didn’t know why his chest constricted as he watched her laugh at Fawley’s idiotic remarks. Or why the sight of her tilting her head toward Fawley with the kind of interest she never spared him made his jaw tighten and his nails dig crescents into his palm.

What he did know was that he wanted to tear Archibald Fawley apart, piece by agonizing piece. Those pathetic, worshipful eyes Fawley always turned on her—did she notice them? Did she care?

Tom noticed. He always did.

Abraxas approached with a practiced elegance, his every movement steeped in decorum. His polite greeting preceded the inevitable request for a dance. It was expected—ingrained in him like second nature. Across the room, Archie’s jaw tightened as he glanced at you, his silence brimming with quiet disapproval before he turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.

You sighed, resigning yourself to the Slytherin aristocrat's poised invitation. His hand in yours felt formal, detached, as though the act of spinning you around the dance floor was simply another choreographed performance.

But the weight of another gaze bore down on you—a darker, heavier presence. Tom Riddle. His stare cut through the golden glow of the room, sharp and oppressive. It wasn’t admiration or longing. No, it was something far more venomous, far more consuming. His watchful eyes burned through your composure, making your stomach churn and your skin crawl.

Abraxas' murmured praises were lost to you, his polished charm a dull hum against the tightening in your chest. The music softened into its interlude, and as the room swayed to the rhythm, so did you, trapped in a moment that felt suffocating.

Leaning closer, Abraxas whispered, his breath brushing your ear, "Are you alright?"

You nodded too quickly, your voice strained yet polite. "I just need to step out for a moment, if that's alright."

His brow furrowed in concern. "Do you need an escort? I would be more than—"

With that, you slipped away, leaving him standing alone as you made your escape, the weight of Tom’s relentless gaze still burning into your back.

The sharp clatter of your heels echoed through the silent, shadowy halls of Hogwarts. The suffocating air of the Great Hall still lingered in your chest, and you strode purposefully toward the nearest refuge you could find—the Prefects’ bathroom.

The grand, echoing space greeted you with silence as you gripped the edge of the porcelain sink, your knuckles white from the pressure. Your reflection stared back at you, disheveled and trembling.

What the hell was that?

The memory of Tom’s piercing gaze burned in your mind. It had felt suffocating, as though his eyes alone had stolen the air from your lungs. Could he have cursed you? Cast some silent hex when no one was watching? The idea gnawed at you, feeding the simmering rage that now bubbled to the surface.

No matter how petty your rivalry with Tom had been, you had always drawn the line at real harm. But now? Now, he’d crossed a line you couldn’t forgive. Your hands shook as the anger boiled over, spilling into a furious scream that ripped through the air, piercing the stillness of the bathroom.

"Fucking bastard," you hissed through gritted teeth, trembling with rage. Dead. You wanted him dead. The thought was intoxicating, your fury curling around the image of his blood-streaked face.

His blood on your hands would feel like a baptism.

"How dramatic," a voice drawled from the shadows, smooth and cutting. "You’ll wake the Hufflepuffs, and we can’t have that, can we?"

Your head snapped up. His voice. Low, familiar, mocking. For a moment, you thought you were imagining things until he stepped forward from the darkness, his pale face illuminated by the faint glow of the enchanted candles.

Tom Riddle.

The sight of him made your blood run cold and seethe all at once. He was too calm, too collected, as though he’d planned this confrontation down to the last syllable.

Had he been following you?

He tilted his head, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk that sent a chill down your spine. "And here I thought I’d stumbled upon a banshee mid-wail."

Your glare could have burned through steel. "Did you hex me?"

Tom stepped closer, his presence suffocating, his dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "Don’t be ridiculous. The Deterioration Hex? Child’s play. But I must admit, your dramatics are far more entertaining than any spell I could cast."

Your fury bubbled over. "What is wrong with you?" you hissed, your voice breaking. "You’re sick in the head, you know that? A twisted, pathetic, stupid—stupid orphan."

The insult barely left your lips before his hand shot out, his fingers curling around your throat. He didn’t squeeze, not yet, but the threat was there, his touch icy against your skin.

"Careful," he whispered, his voice dangerously soft. His face was close to yours now, his breath brushing against your cheek. "Filthy little witch. I wonder—did you enjoy it? The attention? The way Fawley and Malfoy fawned over you? You were begging for it, weren’t you?"

You clawed at his hand, your nails biting into his skin as you gasped for breath. "I—" your voice broke. "I hate you."

Tom’s grip loosened just slightly, though his piercing gaze remained locked on yours. Slowly, a cruel smirk curled his lips, his voice venomous and low.

"Hate me all you like," he murmured, his tone cutting and intimate. "But don’t lie to yourself. You hate me because I see you—every mask you wear, every filthy little thought you try to bury. You hate me because you can't hide from me."

And then, as if the rage in his eyes had dissipated into something darker, something more dangerous, he shoved you back against the sink.

He stepped back, adjusting his tie with that same maddening composure that made you want to scream. “Good night,” he said smoothly, his voice low and sharp, as if it were some final command. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late. We have a potion to brew.”

With that, he turned on his heel, his footsteps echoing through the grand, empty bathroom as he walked away.

"Raving lunatic!" you spat, the words dripping with disdain, your gaze seething with the anger he had so easily provoked.

Tom paused mid-stride, his shoulders stiffening, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, you caught the faintest twitch of his lips, though whether it was a smirk or a grimace, you couldn’t tell. Without another word, he continued on his way, leaving you fuming in his wake.

Deena speaks .ᐟ

Tom MIGHT just be bipolar.

Ohmygod I finally published this shitty chapter school has been crazy !! I only managed to finish this today because I'm absent. Anyway, hate this chapter omfg.

Chapter four will be posted soon hopefully^^

[sorcerous-caress]

Hello!! I love your writing 😍 Would it be okay if you wrote Karlach, Lae'zel and whomever you wish with a tiefling!Tav that loses both a horn and an eye during a battle and can't quite find balance in their fighting afterwards bc of it?

Reacting to Tav losing a horn/eye

[Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, nb!reader, Tiefling!reader]

[Karlach, Laezel, Wyll, Halsin]

Karlach

She swears she can still hear it, your agonised scream, the splatter of blood, the crunch of bone being torn apart.

As if the world slowed down for a moment, an eerie quietness surrounding the battlefield for the uncomfortable stretched out seconds. Your companions turning to look at you, clutching your eye with your back hunched.

Dread filled her stomach, one of your horns laid on the bloody floor next to your feet.

She doesn't remember the rest. Only when she stood atop the burnt rubble of what used to be the battlefield, did the all-consuming rage fade away from her mind.

Karlach is immediately at your side after, apologising for not being there sooner.

She's by your side as you heal, making sure to bring you anything you might need. As your struggles to adjust to combat again in the aftermath become more and more evadint, she is one of the first people to suggest fully leaving combat to her.

Yes, you are capable. Yes, she has seen how strong you are. But sometimes life just doesn't go the way we plan it. You can relay on her instead.

You don't have to go back to the cruel world. You can let her take care of it. Karlach really can't afford losing you. She'd claw her way up the heavens and steal you away if your fate took a turn to the worse.

Laezel

She completely disagrees with Karlach. This is nothing but a minor setback if anything. Laezel completely has faith in you to relearn how to find your balance, and she'll teach you if she has to.

As long as you can still stand on your feet and carry a sword, then you can fight in her eyes. She will give her sincere apologies for letting you down in battle and not doing something before enemeis got the chance to best you, but besides it, you'll get no pity from her.

Why is everyone acting as if you died? You're clearly still the same strong and capable person she knows. If anything, each scar is evidence of how your enemies' failure to put you down, you should show your broken horn with pride.

She has enough self awareness not to impose her views on you, no matter how much she thinks her companions are being dramatic and oversensitive, is she noticed you being fully uncomfortable with her approach she will take her leave from your bedside.

But you got fed up with people infantlising you, then she will be the first to 6pull you back into an intense daily training routine until you regain your footing.

Wyll

While Karlach and Laezel were too busy arguing about your own fate, Wyll was there for you throughout every stage of healing. He knows what it's it like losing an eye. He can relate to the horror and dissociation that happens whenever you look at the mirror to see a piece of yourself missing.

He still hasn't gotten used to his own horns himself, and losing one of yours must have been painful to bear. He will stay by your side until you feel better, no pressure to discuss the future or your fighting abilities or anything.

Wyll will make sure you don't feel alone, that the dark thoughts don't consume you too much. Share you worries with him, let him help carry your burdens, please. It kills him seeing someone so dear to him suffer when he can't do anything or help.

Halsin

His heart breaks, seeing you coming back to camp limbing and bloodied that day. He prays to Silvanus to ease your pain as he takes shift with Shadowheart to nurse you back to health with healing spells.

Nature can be so unforgiving sometimes, to some animals, losing an eye or horn can be a death sentence.

But he has seen even the most withered of plants suddenly flourish and regain their strength, he has personally stayed up countless nights to care for the weak kittens that their mother refused to even acknowledge.

He has seen them grow, nurtured them into a strong healthy state.

Don't surrendered to the darkness, when the abyss starts whispering about how this is your end and how your potential was wasted you yell at the abyss, bite, claw and fight your way out of this rut.

True strength lies in the heart, give yourself time to rest, and don't rush your healing. Eventually, you'll be back on your own two feet with a new view on the world before you can realise it.

[shalomniscient]

worship (like a dog) || rahu x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

Rahu is hardly the first person you know like this, in fact a few sinners come to mind immediately, but she is perhaps the worst of them all. She does little to conceal her desire; you know the way she looks at you, can feel it against your skin, and yet Rahu herself would sooner gnaw her own leg off than ever admit to it. Tonight, however, you intend to put an end to this fruitless and frustrating back and forth—one way or another.  Or, you help Rahu take what she wants. (and she does, more than you expect.)

cw. [NSFT][MDNI] rahu has a dick in this (a big one), deepthroating, facefucking, breeding, squirting, use of puppy as a pet name, multiple orgasms, praising, switch!rahu, switch!reader

wc. 4.2k of pure filth

You don’t normally wear dresses like these, so revealing and eye catching. You’ve always been more comfortable in the shirt, slacks and coat of your typical attire, given its sheer functionality and the way it sufficiently shields you from any wandering eyes. But desperate times call for desperate measures—like trying to get your self-proclaimed bodyguard, Rahu, to finally take you like you know she’s always wanted.

So here you stand, in front of a full-length mirror in your bedroom after coming back from another FAC-sponsored gala, Rahu standing vigilantly in the doorway just outside the door you left ever so slightly ajar. You can feel Rahu’s silver gaze burn against your skin as you undo the clasp in the front of your dress. The sleeves slip from your shoulders, revealing the angular line of your collarbones, and you hear Rahu’s breath hitch sharply. You eye her carefully in the mirror, aware that the neckline of your dress has dropped dangerously low. Right now, the only thing keeping the dress on your body now was the zip in the back. 

“Rahu,” you call to her. “Will you help me with the zipper?”

Rahu’s fingers twitch, but then she nods. Stiffly, she walks towards you, until she is almost pressed against your back. The mask she wears echoes the sound of her deep, steady breathing, and the first touch of her gloved hands against your back almost makes you shiver. Slowly, carefully, Rahu pulls the zipper down, and in the reflection you can see the way her eyes follow the movement of her hands, watching as more of your skin is exposed. You sigh blissfully as your back is exposed to the cool air of the room, a balm against your heated skin. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, turning ever so slightly to look Rahu in the eyes. 

“Will that be all?” she asks, her voice noticeably rougher, deeper. It makes goosebumps break over your bare skin. 

“I don’t know,” you counter, taking the smallest step closer. The upper half of your dress is still bunched in your arms, giving her a sinfully clear view of the curve of your chest, helpfully uncovered by the fact that you chose to forgo a bra tonight. And your panties, but Rahu would only find that out later. Hopefully. “Do you want it to be?”

She blinks, and you see her throat bob as she swallows. “I— I don’t—“

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Rahu,” you whisper, your voice taking on an almost desperate edge. You lean up, close enough that only a few more inches would have your lips brushing the snarling face of her mask. “I want you. Do you want me?”

Rahu makes a sound between a growl and a whine and your blood sings. Her eyes were blown wide, silver nearly eclipsed by the blackness of her pupils. “If— if that is what you desire—“

You shake your head, taking one of Rahu’s hands in yours in an oddly intimate gesture that seemed a little out of place in the moment’s tense atmosphere. “Tell me what you want, Rahu.”

“I…” her words are strained, and briefly, you think she might step away. That the loyalty that keeps her by your side would be the same thing that drags her away from you tonight. But then her hand in yours squeezes gently, and her silver gaze burns with resolve. “I… want this. You.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest, an aching relief flooding through your body. A smile grows on your lips as your other hand finally releases your grip on the fabric of your dress, allowing it to slip off your body and collect like a silken pool at your feet. Rahu’s eyes flick down immediately to your exposed chest, and you laugh softly. 

“Like what you see?” you tease, free hand now daintily tracing the edges of Rahu’s mask. Your finger hooks in the clasp of her mask, tugging ever so slightly. “Then why don’t you take this off and have a taste?” 

Within seconds, she’s ripped the offending accessory off, letting it clatter onto the floor carelessly. And then with a forwardness you weren’t expecting, Rahu crashes her lips against yours in a bruising, breathtaking kiss, her large hand shooting out to grab at your waist, pulling you closer and squeezing. The pressure makes you gasp into the kiss, and Rahu seizes the opportunity to force her tongue into your mouth. 

Pressed so close to her like this, you become aware of something nudging against your thigh. You shift your hips, subtly grinding against her front, and Rahu groans, breaking away from you, her lips kiss-swollen and her expression pinched in one of beautiful pleasure. A flush creeps up her skin, and you feel her twitch in her pants. 

“You’ve gotten so worked up already,” you hum, her embarrassment utterly adorable. Your hand trails lower, reaching for her belt. “Let me—“

But Rahu catches your wrist, shaking her head. “It’s fine. I want… you first.” 

“Oh.” Rahu’s thrown another curveball at you, but you don’t mind. Definitely not. You smile up at her, the thrill of seeing your tall, mysterious bodyguard now a flushed, hard mess just for you making the heat in your core feel almost unbearable. “Alright, then.” 

You lead her to the foot of your bed, then take a seat. Rahu looks a little puzzled, but then you spread your legs, and Rahu gets the message. She swallows, eyes now fixated on your pussy, the slightest glossy sheen coating the inner lips. Slowly, she sinks to her knees, until her face is level with your hips, and you card your fingers through her long, dark hair. The sight of Rahu staring up at you from between your legs, silver eyes swirling with barely restrained hunger, makes your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Can I?” she asks, her hands coming to rest on your knees. Her warm breath against your wetness makes you sigh contentedly. “I want to…”

“You can, Rahu,” you encourage gently, applying the slightest pressure to the back of her skull. With your permission, Rahu dives in, licking a long stripe from your fluttering cunt up to your clit. The action pulls a low moan from you, your fingers tightening reflexively in her hair. Rahu repeats the movements a few times, before focusing her attention on your hole, prodding her tongue inside in a way that has you throwing one leg over her shoulder to pull her in closer. As you watch her eagerly lap at your pussy, you can’t help the small giggle that escapes you, barely audible over the squelching noises of her devouring you. 

“You—mhm—look so good like this, Rahu,” you breathe out, nails lightly scratching at her scalp. “Like a—ah—cute little puppy.” 

The words make Rahu whine against you, and you see her hips buck against the floor. Rahu’s eyes are screwed shut, the grip she has on your thighs almost bruising as a full-body shudder wracks through her. You laugh properly this time, very pleasantly surprised. 

“Oh, did you like that?” you croon at her, petting her head like you would a dog. “Do you like it when I call you puppy? My puppy?” 

“Fuck,” Rahu hisses into your pussy, strained and hoarse. One hand releases your thigh to fumble with her belt, desperate to free what must be her painfully hard cock right now. 

“Focus, puppy,” you whisper, tugging her hair a little forcefully, pushing her face back where you need her to be. “You said you wanted me first, right?”

Rahu makes a strangled noise, but resumes what she was doing before, though with a touch more desperation this time around. Her tongue plunges in and out of your gushing hole, smearing the lower half of her face in slick. One particular thrust has her nose brushing your clit at the same time her tongue drives deep into you, and you moan loudly, your heel digging into her clothed back. 

“Just like that, puppy,” you praise, feeling your first orgasm of the night tightening in your belly. “Just a little bit more, being such a good puppy for me right now.”

Rahu’s hips start bucking against the floor again as she feels more wetness collect on her tongue. She continues to eat you out relentlessly despite the growing burn in her jaw, the sound of your pitched moans and whines sounding like heaven to her ears. With one final expert stroke of her tongue she tips you off the edge, and you throw your head back in a long, drawn out moan, your fingers fisting as tightly as possible in Rahu’s hair, the sting painfully pleasurable. You gush into her mouth, the sweet taste of you spilling into Rahu’s hungry, waiting mouth. She gives a few more light licks to your twitching hole before pulling back, her breath heavy, face almost shining in the low light in the room. 

You release your grip on Rahu’s hair and sigh happily, smiling indulgently down at the Sinner on her knees. “You’re so messy, puppy,” you say softly, cupping her face and swiping your thumb across her lips. “But you did so well for me, so I should reward you, right?”

“Please,” Rahu breathes out, her voice brittle. You lean down and kiss her, moaning at the taste of yourself on her lips. 

“On your feet, puppy,” you whisper into the kiss. Rahu rises shakily, standing to her full height. From where you sit on the bed, you’re now face to face with her crotch—where a very sizable tent pokes against her pants. You admire the clothed size of it for a second, then grip her toned thighs, tugging her close enough that she’s only inches away from your mouth. Rahu makes a choked noise, her hands flying to your head, a beautiful red flush settling on her cheeks. 

“Shirt off,” you order quietly. Reluctantly, Rahu releases your hair, her hands rising up to fumble with the buttons of her shirt and tie, practically ripping her clothes off in her haste until she’s completely bare. You admire her full breasts and the hard contours of her abs, your eyes tracing over each scar that criss-cross her body, some paler than others. Gently, you lean up to press a kiss against a newer one, and feel her stiffen against your touch. “Relax, puppy. I’m getting there…”

Ever so slowly you move lower, until your nose is pressed against her navel. Your hands deftly unbuckle her belt, and you let it fall to the floor along with her slacks. You laugh at the wet patch on the front of her boxers, teasingly kissing the clothed tip, just enough to get Rahu groaning. Then, you hook your fingers in the waistband and pull, finally setting Rahu’s aching, weeping cock free. 

It’s pretty, you think. Just like Rahu herself. She’s definitely not the thickest, but she certainly makes up for it in sheer length, the reddish tip curved ever so slightly. Rahu watches as you stare appreciatively at her cock, her nerves feeling frayed by desire. 

“Please…” she begs, ever so slightly rolling her hips forward, so that her cockhead bumps against your cheek. “I want— I need—“

“Shh, don’t worry, puppy,” you say soothingly, languidly wrapping your hand around her length and delighting in the way she sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. “I’ll take good care of you. Just tell me what you want, okay?” 

“Want you,” she chokes out brokenly, “y-your mouth.” 

“Good puppy,” you say with a smile, then start taking her into your mouth. Rahu swears as she feels your tongue swirl around the tip, lapping at the precum smeared on it from before. Your eyes briefly roll back into your head as the taste of her blooms on your tongue, a taste so distinctly Rahu you feel your own wetness gathering between your thighs again. You keep going, taking more and more of her into your mouth, until you feel her bump the back of your throat. You open your eyes again, and make sure to make direct eye contact with her as you draw back, all the way until you let go of her tip with a pop. Rahu whines, her hand fisting in your hair, her chest heaving at her own strained breaths. 

“Eyes on me, puppy,” you order lightheartedly before swallowing her, but this time your hand pumps whatever remaining length doesn’t fit in your mouth. Rahu grips your hair tightly, needing all her willpower to hold her back from fucking your face. You hollow your cheeks and press your tongue against her cock, your hand sometimes wandering down to toy with her balls. Rahu pants above you, eyes almost watering at how fucking good you were sucking her off. But she keeps focused on you, like the good puppy she is. 

And so you get to see fully the way her eyes disappear into her skull when you take all of her into your mouth, letting her fat cockhead bully its way down your throat. Your throat spasms, unused to the intrusion, and you breathe in harshly through your nose to quell the mildly uncomfortable sensation, because the expression on Rahu’s face right now was something absolutely worth it. Only then do you start sucking her off in earnest, bobbing up and down on her cock. The wet sounds echo throughout the room, as you devour her with as much intensity as she did you a few minutes ago. 

“I’m— I’m going to—“ Rahu croaks out, her hips jerking forward as her legs feel unsteady beneath her. You blindly reach for her other hand, and bring it to your face. You look up at her, and hope she gets the message. 

Use me. 

Rahu’s pupils blow wide, and you feel her twitch in your mouth. Hesitance peeks out through the fog of lust, and you whine pitifully at her. You’d beg, but you’re too busy keeping her cock in your mouth. Rahu swallows, and you see her lust win as her gaze takes a dangerous edge to it that has you squeezing your thighs together. Her other hand winds in your hair, and she pulls back slowly, almost slipping out completely before ramming her way back in, making you choke. 

Her pace is brutal as she chases her high, going balls deep with each sharp drive of her hips. Tears burn the corner of your eyes but you love it, the way she uses your mouth like it’s her own personal cocksleeve. Rahu hunches over as her orgasm creeps up on her, groaning each time she bottoms out in your throat. Her thrusts start to get erratic as she gets closer and closer until—

“Fuck, c-cumming!” she whines, planting herself as deep as she can go and pressing you against her crotch. You gag as her warm cum fills your throat like a torrent, your fingers clawing at her thighs as you breathe in through your nose. You don’t know how long Rahu keeps cumming for but she cums a lot, and you try to swallow all of it but some of it escapes the seal of your lips around her cock, dribbling creamy white down your chin. She pulls you off her with a pop, moaning at the sight of her cum smeared on your face. Her cock is still hard, resting on your cheek. 

Your tongue darts out to cheekily lick a stripe up the side and Rahu jerks from the oversensitivity. 

“Seems like you still want more, puppy,” you tease, letting yourself fall back onto the bed. Languidly, you spread your legs, showing off your dripping pussy that had only gotten wetter when she fucked your face. You run a finger through your soaked folds and shudder, parting them so Rahu can get a good look at your painfully empty hole as it clenches around nothing. “You want to fuck this one too?” 

Rahu growls, crawling on top of you and pinning your wrists to the bed. She shuts you up with a kiss, which turns into a moan as her cock catches on your hole. It has you sighing in pleasure too, anticipation thrumming beneath your skin at the idea of Rahu filling you up with that gorgeous cock of hers. 

“C’mon puppy, you can put it in,” you encourage, rolling your hips against hers. You lean up, your teeth grazing her earlobe as you wrap your arms around her broad, muscled back. “Fill me up, make me yours. Take what you want.”

“Mine,” she rasps out, dragging her own teeth against the column of your neck. She lines her hips up against yours once, twice, before sinking in, her fat tip breaching your tight hole. Rahu snarls against your neck in pleasure as you throw your head back and moan, eyelids fluttering at the sensation of being filled. Inch by inch more of Rahu’s cock fills your needy pussy until her balls kiss your ass, and you can feel her pressed against your cervix. 

“F-fuck, you’re so big, puppy,” you pant, your voice shaky. “Fill me up s-so good.”

“You’re so tight,” she grits out, slowly drawing back. If fucking your mouth was heaven, then fucking your drooling cunt would definitely be ascending to divinity. When she thrusts back in she goes all the way to the hilt again, forcing a cry from your lips. The neighbors would probably file a noise complaint tomorrow, but Rahu can’t bring herself to care about them when she’s balls deep in the best pussy she’s ever had. 

Her pace is hard and deep, and you almost go cross eyed with each thrust. Her length allows her to reach places no one had ever reached before, and it’s only a matter of time before she finds just that right spot that has you creaming on her cock. And when she finally does you swear, nails clawing down her back as the coil in your belly gets impossibly tight. 

“Right there, puppy, right there— just like that,” you babble, and Rahu angles her hips just right to hit it every single goddamn time. Your cunt clenches on Rahu’s dick like it’s your lifeline, and Rahu feels her own climax build up again embarrassingly quickly. She pounds into you relentlessly, your wetness from earlier splashing out onto the sheets and against her thighs. 

“Gonna cum, puppy,” you whimper between moans, locking your legs around Rahu’s lower back to draw her in deeper. “Cum with me.” 

Rahu’s pace falters, becoming less rhythmic but her aim is still mind-numbingly accurate. She whines into your neck as she feels the pressure in her loins build and build and then you deliberately tighten your core and squeeze around her and she’s gone. Rahu bites down into your shoulder as she cums, hilting as deep as she can go, pressing harshly against that spot in your pussy that has you creaming all over her cock too. 

Your walls pulse around her as she spills warm, thick cum into your cunt, as if milking her for all she’s worth. Her hips stutter from overstimulation, her brain feeling like it’s turning into mush, but she’d rather endure this forever than pull out. You feel her cum fill every inch of your cunt, some of it spilling out due to the sheer amount and dripping down your ass. You can’t even hear your own screams of pleasure, entirely consumed by the force of your orgasm. 

When you finally come to again, Rahu is hunched over you, but her hips don’t stop. Her thrusts are jerky and uneven, cock still spilling into your cunt, but she seems too far gone to even think to stop. She bullies her way deeper into you, as if wanting to get all the way past your cervix to dump her cum right into your womb. You writhe beneath her, overstimulation setting your nerve endings on fire. You can feel your mind slipping slowly, but you retain enough semblance of coherent thought to try and push Rahu off, not for her to stop completely but just to slow down.

“R-Rahu, puppy, slow down,” you whine, tears prickling at your eyes as Rahu keeps targeting that spot inside of you. “‘s too much!” 

Rahu growls at that, her silver eyes taking on a feral edge as they glare into your teary ones. She pulls out swiftly and you sigh at the reprieve, only to be manhandled onto your front in an instant. Rahu flips you like you weigh nothing—and to her, you might as well have. You barely have time to process what she’s doing before she’s tugging your hips up, lining her cock with your pussy and sinking balls deep into you again. Your back arches and your lips part in a silent scream as Rahu resumes her brutal pace, rutting into you like some sort of wild animal. 

“I’m taking what I want,” she says roughly, echoing your previous words, leaning down to snarl them against the shell of your ear. Her teeth graze your neck and you sob, cunt clenching and fluttering as your mixed cum is forced out and drips onto the sheets below. One of Rahu’s hands grips your hip tight enough to bruise, while the other slips lower to toy with your clit. The assault of her fingers on the sensitive nub is far too much for you, combined with the way her cock is consistently hitting that perfect spot. The coil in your belly is wound tight, way too tight. 

“Rahu, wait, I’m gonna—” you choke out between moans, trying to warn her, only for the hand on your hip to move to your neck and tug you upwards so that you’re on your knees as Rahu slams her cock into you. The new angle pulls another strangled sob from you as her fingers work relentlessly at your clit. Your hips twitch uncontrollably, not knowing if you want to run from the pleasure or to it. “Rahu, please, please, please—”

The hand around your neck squeezes, her teeth ghosting the previous bite on your shoulder as she briefly cuts off your oxygen and the coil snaps, furiously. With a wail, you squirt all over the sheets, turning them a shade darker. Streams of it spill from your pussy as you go utterly brainless on Rahu’s cock, still thrusting away. You don’t get a warning, or perhaps you simply couldn’t sense anything beyond the bone-deep pleasure pulsing through every fiber of your being, but Rahu cums too, hilting as deep as she can go and dumping another load into your used cunt, her teeth sinking deep into your shoulder.

Her hips stutter as she rides out her orgasm, fucking her cum deeper into your womb. You’re practically boneless in her grasp, head lolled listlessly onto her shoulder, eyes half lidded as your pussy spasms with the aftershocks. When Rahu finally goes still, she releases her hold on your neck and the arm around your waist, and you tip forward onto the ruined sheets, utterly exhausted. Rahu, still buried inside you, follows, slumping over you as she pants into your shoulder.

After a minute (or ten, you aren’t quite sure, since Rahu had seemingly fucked the concept of time out of you), you gather enough braincells to speak a proper sentence.  

“You were really pent up, weren’t you?” you tease, a little breathlessly, turning your head to look at her. Her gaze is softer somehow, and definitely more relaxed. Rahu hums instead of answering, eyes flicking down to your lips. Gently, almost affectionately, she leans in and kisses you, lazily swiping her tongue along your lip. You can taste yourself on her, and a shiver runs through you. When you pull away, you can’t help but smirk a little, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Also… puppy, huh?”

Rahu’s eyes widen and then she groans, but you don’t miss the way her cock twitches inside of you. She buries her face against the damp skin of your back and you giggle at her embarrassment. “Shut up,” she mumbles, wrapping her arms around your waist and squeezing you. You can’t see her face from this angle, but the tips of her ears are a stunning shade of red. “We should… get cleaned up.” 

As much as you’d like to continue teasing her, Rahu was right. The state of your body and your sheets was definitely less than sanitary at the moment. Slowly, Rahu started to pull out. You wince as your oversensitive walls spasm, and Rahu presses soft kisses against your back in apology. She slips out with a squelch, and you sigh, suddenly feeling too empty. Rahu helps you sit up, and you shudder at the feeling of her cum and yours starting to dribble out of your pussy. Rahu sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, but thankfully, she doesn’t get hard again. As much as you enjoyed it, you don’t think your pussy could take another pounding from her.

Well. Not yet, at least.

(You end up showering with Rahu, to ‘save on your water bill’. Suffice to say, actually getting clean turned out to be a secondary objective. But neither you nor Rahu really seemed to care, so all’s well that ends well, right?) 

[i9messi]

Speak Now — Max Verstappen

You're Max’s best friend. When he announces he's gonna get married you can't believe it. Is it too late and inopportune to let him know you're in love with him?

Word count — 1,8k

a/n: happy ending!!

max’s masterlist

"I'm going to get married. She said yes."

The call seemed to end abruptly, but you knew very well that Max was on the other side of the line, waiting for your answer. A bittersweet taste had settled in your mouth and tears began to build up in your eyes, all as you thought of what response to give. A best friend would be happy for him, a best friend would just want to see him fulfill his dreams. However, things were complicated. You felt sad, broken and submerged in deep pain.

In your stupidest dreams, you’d hoped Max would finally notice you. You’d been there, you’d listened to him and advised him every time he fought with his girlfriend. You pretended to be happy when you saw them coming back. Max had gotten so used to your presence that you had become invisible to his eyes. You were just a friend to him.

In part, it was no surprise that Max had proposed to his partner. You had assumed that sooner or later the relationship was going to become much stronger. Still, you didn’t expect to do it so soon.

"Are you there?"

"Oh, yes, Max. I’m sorry." You swallowed saliva. "I’m happy for you."

When you closed your eyes, it didn’t seem right. Max didn’t have to marry her. It wasn’t the way it should have been.

Seven months later and after much anxiety on your part, it was finally the wedding day. You had hesitated to go, mainly because your invitation had rarely never arrived. Max wasn’t aware of the way the bride had excluded you, and you hadn’t told him either. Daniel was the one who insisted multiple times on going together. In his company you had reached the beautiful place where Max was going to get married, and your eyes connected with the rest of the guests. The bride’s family were dressed in pastel.

"When the priest says speak now or forever hold your peace you have to appear abruptly and say that he is your man. Wave me down a little early so I can get my cell phone and record it." Danny joked, although it wasn’t really being a total joke, a small part of him expected the ceremony to be canceled. You denied with your head.

"I’ll behave myself, it’s Max’s day."

Daniel let out a sigh.

"I’ll go get alcohol, we need it a lot."

As the Australian disappeared from your sight, you were left alone, looking everywhere. You could feel curious looks on you. Some of the bride’s friends looked at you with raised eyebrows, while whispering among them. Barely five minutes passed, when two of them decided to come over to talk to you.

"I didn’t know you were invited," said the first.

"If I remember correctly, the bride didn’t invite you."

To save you, Daniel returned to your side, with two glasses of some liquid. The girls came back with their friends' group and your friend offered you a drink.

"You need it more than I do."

You hadn’t seen Max yet and you wanted to cry. So you got the drink and tasted the alcohol in your lips. You were just gonna have a drink, you didn’t want to be a sad drunk that day. You’d save the tears for later, when you were in the privacy of your home.

"Why do I feel like I’m being practically kicked out of here? I know I wasn’t invited, but I don’t have to be treated like I broke in either."

"The thing is, it’s painful to see the person you love marry someone else. It’s obvious how you feel about Max and nobody expected you to actually decide to come here."

"He’s my best friend, as much as it hurts, I want to see him happy."

"Even when he's happy with someone else?"

You nodded, "Even to someone other than me."

Daniel Ricciardo shook his head, "I’m told Max is nervous. I think it would do him good to talk to you. You’re the only one who knows how to calm him when he’s like this."

After a bad race, you were always there to have a conversation with him. Max Verstappen was a self-confident person, but he also got easily mad when things didn’t go the way he had planned. There was a lot of pressure on him to do his best. Even when you weren’t in the same country as him, one phone call from you was enough to get him in a better mood.

You nodded and went to where Max was supposedly to be. You knocked on the door and took a breath, that’s when you heard his voice saying you could pass. The vision completely shattered you. Max was wearing a black suit, one that fit him perfectly. He was even more beautiful than usual, he was the perfect groom. It was just a few minutes before he went out and tied himself up for the rest of his life with another woman. Realization caused you a new wound in your heart.

"Max."

"Here you are, lieverd. I’ve been looking for you for hours."

He came practically running to your side and melted you into a hug. Having him around and at the same time so far away, you ended up breaking. You started shaking and crying in his arms, it was impossible to hold him much longer. Max finally heard your sobs and noticed your tremor, his concern grew.

"What's wrong?"

When you didn’t answer, he took you by the face and your eyes met.

"Tell me, what's wrong?"

It was too late. You couldn’t say you loved him, it was his wedding. You wanted to oppose it, you wanted to yell at the priest that they couldn’t get married. That Max was marrying the wrong girl. Yet you couldn’t do it. You loved him enough to want him to be happy.

You shook your head, "I’m sorry, Max. I have to go, I just... I hope you're happy."

"Wait!"

You ignored him and ran as fast as you could, away from him. You found an empty room and with the curtains closed, the atmosphere of the room seemed dull and melancholy. You knelt on the floor and allowed yourself to cry. It didn’t matter anymore, the person you loved the most in your life was going to marry someone else. After months of waiting, Max was going to say yes in a few minutes.

"Lieverd."

"Don’t call me that."

You didn’t know when he had gotten to where you were. Not caring about the dust in the room, he knelt on the floor next to you. His suit was going to be ruined because of you.

"What’s wrong with you? Why are you running? Why are you crying?"

You looked at him, "Don’t tell me you don’t know, Max. Everybody knows."

"Knows what?"

"I’m in love with you and it hurts so much."

Max was puzzled by your statement. Hell, you thought, why did you have to talk? Couldn’t you have waited, or at least shut up for the rest of your life?

"Look, I know I’m being selfish and it wasn’t the way this day was supposed to be. It’s your day, it’s your wedding and you just have to be focused on your wife-to-be."

"Are you in love with me?"

"Max..."

"Answer."

Max held his breath and so did you. There was no room for lies.

"Yes, I am. I have loved you for years."

"And why didn’t you ever tell me?"

"Because I know you don’t feel the same way, and I understand. But I don’t want to lose you as a friend, and I certainly didn’t want you looking at me like you are now." you closed your eyes and opened them again, Max was looking at you with those eyes that you had fallen in love with. "It doesn’t matter anymore, it doesn’t change anything. Nothing’s gonna change, telling you just made everything worse."

"Since when do you feel this?”

"Max..." his gaze let you know that he needed you to answer his question. "I’ve loved you since we met, and I think the most tragic part about this is that I don’t think I can stop even if I wanted to."

There was a prolonged silence. You let out a sigh, you had ruined everything.

"I’m sorry, Max. I’m sorry for everything, I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again."

Max stopped you before you could get up, his hand held yours in a strong grip. You could feel the warmth of his hand and you could almost hear your own heartbeat.

"No, don’t go away."

"Max."

"What makes you think I don’t feel the same way about you? What makes you think I’m happily marrying her?

"You’re not happy? I don’t understand... it’s your marriage, you and her—"

"Stop, listen to me. I know that I was supposed to marry her, I’ve thought several times about what was supposed to be best for me. I thought I loved her and she was the one... but I can’t stop thinking about you. Funny, isn’t it? Because while I’m thinking about you, she doesn’t even occupy even a fraction of my mind. While I have been waiting in that room, I have thought of everything."

"I know now she’s not the woman I want to marry, that’s you. It’s always been you. And now that you’re saying this, that you’re in love with me- I can’t know that the woman I’m in love with also feels the same way about me, and that with my decision I’m breaking her heart."

You couldn’t understand anything that was going on. It almost seemed like a dream, finally someone seemed to hear your prayers.

"But you’re going to marry her, she’s waiting for you. The guests..."

"I don’t care about anyone, I only care about you. I love you. Only you."

You smiled, "Max, are you sure?"

"I am."

And saying that, he grabbed your cheeks and kissed you. It was the first kiss, his lips felt exactly as you had dreamed. It was a sweet and desperate kiss, two lovers who despite the tragic events they had experienced, finally let their hearts be heard. You couldn’t believe it, Max felt the same. You grabbed him harder, never wanting him to separate from you. You wanted the moment to last a lifetime, because you had never been happier. When you walked away, you smiled at him and his eyes shone.

"I love you, Lieverd."

Just a couple of minutes later, Daniel helped the two of you escape from the horrified looks from everyone in the room.

[madeby-meru]

Thoughts on Episode 10 (Jason Route)

Now that I am chill after losing both the illustration and the route and having to watch it somewhere else, I can give my thoughts on this episode! ^^

I wanted to upload this sooner but had no time to finish it lol

beware of spoilers under the cut!

Overall, my main feeling while playing and after finishing was that i was tremendously bored for 90% of the episode. And honestly this makes me sad! I really like filler episodes, i love silly little moments that don't add much to the story itself but that let you see the characters in different situations and learn other tidbits of information about them. For example, I liked going with Brune and Elanda to look for Thomas, seeing them in a situation where they're worried about a friend that could be in serious trouble and how they reacted differently to everything. It adds depth and personality (which these characters desperately need). I have seen Roy's route in this episode too and i liked how it added a bit to his characterization of this very sweet and caring man. I have to say that i also loved seeing Thomas' mom again and im soooo happy that she got a redesign! (even though I wish she looked like an actual 60 year old woman, girlie looks addicted to botox). I would have loved to see Iris too but we got a couple more characters from the MCL games so I'm happy with that. I like seeing that we are, indeed, in the same universe lol.

However, in my opinion anything good or interesting in the episode was completely overshadowed by the sheer *absurdity* of it all.

It's the same issue as always, the "plot" doesn't make sense and unintentionally the characters end up being depicted terribly and (usually) Devon and Thomas suffer the most.

Devon looks like an irresponsible boss that doesn't keep his empoyees in check and lets them do whatever they want even if it harms the job or other emoplyees's work. He postpones the meeting with the town hall (would he even be allowed to do that? i'm sure this would have negative impact on Devenementiel) to look for Thomas, which honestly that's a good friend move so respect for that... but that is a full grown adult, not a child, and you dont even know if something actually happened to him. I'm sorry but here the job should take priority, it makes no sense for everyone to halt their work day and waste time (with a relevant project !! with the town hall !! in their hands !!) cause someone didnt come in.

Sending everyone to just look around the city is... so stupid? how big is Amoris? 1km square? for them to think that they can wander around and magically find him? ????

Now the ending was just... what the actual fuck.

I don't think the writing team is truly aware of how badly Thomas is portrayed. First of all, if you have a motorbike accident that is serious enough to leave the morotbike destroyed like they describe it: you do not walk away like nothing happened! Talking from experience, even a relatively small accident can leave you badly injured. And from what is being described in the episode Thomas should have been hospitalized! It makes no sense. Second of all, who in their right damn mind leaves a demaged vehicle in the middle of the street and walks away to buy a replacement? That is a fine, that is a public safely issue, a general safety hazard and a traffic obstruction, who does that ?! "He is socially unaware!" no, that is being straight up stupid and a jerk.

Y'all are portraying Thomas as an egocentric, careless, and self centered guy that does not care for anything or anyone around him other than himself, an irresponsible person that does not care if his actions are detrimental to his job or colleagues. And if we put this together with episode 8 showing him as someone with zero respect for boundaries or privacy and that will stalk coworkers with no remorse, yeah you're making a wonderful love interest.

And this pisses me off, this feels out of character. Thomas is such a fun and interesting and cute love interest, he could have one of the best romance stories in the game, why would you paint him like this? I'm sure that the intention was a "haha silly guy doesn't understand!" moment but y'all definitely don't know how to write that.

And I don't think this is "reading too much into it", cause you can see it all in plain sight. And also, analyzing shit and "reading too much into something" is fun for me.

This episode could have been so fun. It could have been a silly misunderstanding with some days off that Thomas takes to go to a competition (maybe we initially could think that he had an accident because a similar bike had one that morning! or because he had been complaining about motor issues and being wary of a potential accident!). In his route we could go see him and he could tell us about his hobby, and in other routes we could do something related to the other character's interests. We could get to know more about them, its an appropiate episode topic for the place that we are in in the relationships and its just cute and fun.

But anyway, I unfortunately could not play Jason's route myself and I had to watch it somewhere else instead, which honestly pissed me the fuck off cause i can't afford a replay at all. The special scene was cute, I liked the tone and how Jason sounded like he was trying to play it cool with all the "heh i just did it to show im better" (i can see right through you silly man). Ngl im sad i dont have the scene to replay it u-u

Thomas' illustration was my favorite by far, both him and Ysaline look gorgeous fr fr

[its-time-to-write]

please don’t be - ch. 1

for context! this takes place after season 3, and in my head Jamie plays one season with Richmond under Roy, then goes back to City to play for Pep bc let’s be real, he’s a Manchester boy at heart. so that’s what’s happening, that’s the timeline, this is def the most non-canonical thing I’ve written. it might be out of character. it might be self-indulgent. I don’t know, I would say I don’t care, except I do. enjoy.

table of contents be good to me

It’s Julia who reminds you, he’s the one who asked for your number. Because she has to remind you. Otherwise you’ll tear yourself to pieces thinking about how it’s all your fault. 

Oh, it was easy in the beginning. You meet Jamie Tartt of all people in a chicken shop of all places. Things like that don’t just happen. Except it did, and he smiled at you first, and you had a stupid, stupid thought that became a stupid, stupid reality. 

And Julia was there from the beginning, what with her raised eyebrows and frosty opinions. 

“Be so careful,” she warns. “He doesn’t understand that he doesn’t deserve you.”

You laugh and squeeze her arm as you slip out the door and into Jamie’s car. 

Because it’s fun and silly and he has exactly the right words all the time. Words about your eyes, your voice, your humor; words you know not to take seriously, but he says them with such sincerity that you allow yourself to believe them for a second. 

He says strange things too, things about meeting his mum and holidays in the far future where you’re on a beach with him or maybe in the stands or in a room that costs more than you make in a month. 

He says the word marriage on the third date and it’s not even in reference to the both of you, just to him. He wants it, someday, sooner than people think. You study the wall behind him and sip your water. It’s ice-cold, with just the right amount of lemon. You keep your thoughts on the matter to yourself. No sense in filling the air with meaningless words. Marriage is a conversation for another girl. Not you. 

No, you do your best to take it for what it is, although you’re slipping. 

It’s a fling, albeit long-term. You have incompatible schedules, never mind the way you bend your time to the breaking point just to see him for ten minutes. You have a career, bills to pay, people to fix; he has football, a team, and history to make. 

It’s a whirlwind of parties, matches, flights to Dubai, photographers, dresses, jewels. You know it’s a dream. You do. 

Still, it’s hard to think of it as such when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and tells you, “My mum really liked meeting you the other day.”

It doesn’t matter how many times he tells you you’re just going out, he’s not your boyfriend (as if you aren’t painfully aware). He’s acting as if it’s more. 

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Julia says when you come home, confused and conflicted. “I don’t fault you for staying, but don’t forget you can leave whenever you’re ready.”

But you’re not ready. 

You’ll bend over backwards, put everything on the shelf if it means loving Jamie for half a minute. He’d never ask, no one ever does, because they always assume they know how you’ll respond. 

But they don’t. 

There’s a horrifying moment when you’re at some posh coffee shop, and you’re standing up to grab extra sweetener from the counter. Jamie grabs your wrist so gently to ask for a cup of water, but all you can see is the sweet expression on his face and an eyelash resting on his cheek. He’s smiling up at you and you brush away the eyelash with your free thumb, palm cupping his face. The air changes for a split second and you know.

You’re not making it out of this unscathed.

One of you will leave. It’s inevitable. It will not be you. 

It’s inevitable. 

So you hold his face for a beat too long before heading inside to compose yourself. You pretend not to notice the family with their cameras out. It’s a common occurrence, as common as footballers being seen with a girl who comes from another life and means nothing in the grand scheme of the Premier League. 

There are so many times you want to scream that there are bigger things than the Premier League. 

“I can fix him,” you tell Julia. “I get it. I understand his whole brain, how it works, what he thinks. I understand all of it. I can fix it.”

Julia sighs. “You’re not his therapist. It’s not your job, love.”

Still.

You do what you do best: love. 

It shows itself in the way you smooth out the knots in his forehead, his chest, his back. The way you smile that special, soft, just-for-Jamie smile. The way you listen extra carefully and joke and laugh when things are especially difficult. 

“I won’t change for you,” he says one day, early on, when you explain the panic you feel when he doesn’t speak to you for a week. 

“I’m not asking you to,” you say, voice steady despite the fact that your hands shake so hard you almost drop your tea. “I’m just explaining to you why I’m a bit strange today.”

Except he does change. His words- they don’t match his actions. 

I won’t change for you. 

Except you hear from him every day. 

I won’t change for you.

Except he makes time to see you. 

I won’t change for you. 

Except he’s inviting himself for tea with your family. 

I won’t change for you. 

You never asked him to. 

So why is it your fault?

“You knew I was moving back to Manchester at the end of the season,” he says accusingly, because you did know. You’re not asking him to stay, even now. 

You nod silently, letting as few tears streak down your face as possible. 

“What did you think was going to happen?” he asks. 

Nothing. You didn’t think anything was going to happen. 

You reply, “I didn’t expect anything to happen. I never pressured you. I never- I didn’t ask for any of this. Am I not allowed to be sad?”

There’s no point in telling him you’d move with him if he asked. Seven months together… it’s a long time. But it’s not forever, and it’s not long enough, apparently. 

Julia’s in the flat that night. She always seems to know which nights to be home and not out with her sickeningly perfect boyfriend. 

She doesn’t say anything, just hands you the box of takeout as you whisper, “I’m so tired of begging to be loved.”

It’s a cheap shot, you know that, but still. There’s plenty of love in your life. But the begging…

It’s silent, never leaving your lips. But it’s always screaming inside your head. 

Love me, love me, love me. I am making myself lovable for you. Love me. 

He knows not to text, not to call. You hear he’s in town and are relieved that you don’t hear from him. At least he knows enough to leave you alone. 

You’ll love someone for eternity, until they decide they don’t want it anymore. Once they decide, they’re not allowed back. They can’t come back. It wouldn’t be healthy. 

And fuck if you weren’t going to be healthy. 

table of contents

[wayfayrr]

By your side from day one <3

finally set aside some time to finish off wilds turn for being self aware, the smartest one who found a way to get out without breaking your tv and getting the glass shards of screen everywhere. I'll be back on requests and such soon though!! <3

[masterlist]

“Come on [name], you can’t be serious about missing out on plans just to talk to someone you don’t even know is real.”

“You say like I would want to go clubbing tonight either way, besides he’s said he’s just been working up the courage to video call.”

“And you trust that?”

They’ve got enough of a conscious to look a bit ashamed when I look at them, I know they’re worried for me but of all the things to be so worked up about this seems harmless. 

“What if I told you that he was messaging me and telling me to stop talking to you.”

“Can you show me the proof.”

“Well… no. he deleted them immediately afterwards.”

Are they just jealous? This is so unlike them that it’s offputting. I know they can get a little worked up when I get close to other people but accusing my online friend - accusing wild - of threatening them? It’s petty and childish. Are they afraid I’ll replace them or something? 

“Okay, alright. This isn’t going to make me cut him off you know?”

“[name]...”

“Reach out when you don’t feel like senselessly trying to cut me off from others. I’ll see you around.”

Hopefully, it’s sooner rather than later, but if they don’t? It’s their own fault they thought they would need to sabotage my other relationships to get closer to me. They even have the audacity to call out after me as I’m leaving, still trying to warn me about him, like they can’t accept I would dare get close to anyone else. Not like it doesn’t feel awful potentially losing a friend like this, but what can I really do?

The trip home seems to pass in a blur, until I’m already collapsed onto my couch with a familiar notif going off on my phone. Opening it proves it is exactly what I expected it to be, a message from him, asking me how my day has gone showing me more care than nearly every other person in my life ever has. Not expecting me to drop everything on a dime for him, even if recently he’s been getting more possessive in his messages like he wants to be serious when I’ve never seen his face. 

- I’ve been decent, met up with a friend. Not much really, you? - 

- Had to do chores for someone I don’t like >:( wanna get away from everything tbh - 

- why not just up and leave? - 

- I mean, it’s not like I haven’t been planning something - 

Seems like the possessive streak has worn off now then, so I don’t have to worry about mentioning friends again. There isn’t even a reason he should be possessive of me though, unless he’s got a secret crush or something. Which I hope he doesn’t, he’s been speaking to me for barely a couple of weeks. 

- You free to call tonight? It’s been a while. - 

- I’m good rn if you are. I’ll just grab my headphones - one sec - 

- :DD perf perf - 

Honestly a call will be nice, I can just zone out for a bit, play some games and chat. It’s the perfect way to destress after everything that happened earlier, I still can’t believe they threw away our friendship over something so small. Maybe I should just block their number and drop them even if they do try and apologise, I don’t really need people like that in my life. 

“So then love, any plans for tonight?”

“I thought you said you were gonna drop calling me that?”

“It’s silly and you didn’t answer my question anyway.”

“Nah not really. I’m just loading up breath of the wild, been a bit since I’ve -”

“Oh shit.”

Has wild been link this whole time, wait - how did he get access to the internet, HOW IS HE SENTIENT?  

He’s just sitting in his hateno house, holding the sheikah slate like a phone and silently, through the switch anyway, talking. The look of horror on his face is gut-wrenching though.

“You - you…”

“Oh - uh - I mean. Come on love it’s not that bad is it? I - I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”

“I don’t think I want to deal with this right now… I’m sorry I just.”

The look of horror and shame shifted terrifyingly fast when he noticed me moving to turn off the switch, replacing itself with fear and anger before he steeled himself, and presses his hand against the slate’s screen?

…

He - he’s reached through my phone to grab onto my wrist. 

“No, don’t turn me off, I can’t go back to being just a voice. Please”

“How… how are you DOING THIS?”

“That… Isn’t what matters right now.”

His grip feels so nervous, he looks it too - which makes sense, I would probably be petrified if I lost my body just because I was trapped in a game. I can’t turn him off that would be cruel… he deserves better than that. 

It instantly lightened as I moved to sit back down, a sigh of relief echoing through both my tv speakers and my phone, as he let go the second I sat with his hand retreating through my unbroken phone. 

“Okay, you promise you won’t try to turn me off?”

“I won’t if you’ll explain.”

“That - that’s fair, I can do that for you love and - if I told you that I think I’ve figured out a way to get out? Would you let me live with you?”

“So that’s why you were so forward abou- yes you can. When you’ve explained everything. And made it certain you’re not planning to kill me because you’re scared of me sending you back.”

The reverb’s stopped now, which makes talking a lot more pleasant and less like he’s trying to intimidate me now, not that I blame him for it if I was about to condemn him back to that hellscape. I just, I really hope he isn’t trying to get out just to kill me, I don’t think I would ever be able to get over my childhood crush wanting to kill me even if he has every right to want that.

“What- No no I don’t - why - why would you think I would ever want to even hurt you let alone KILL. I - love I. I love you. That’s why I’m doing all of this - I - I.”

He’s crying. I should’ve known that he wouldn’t do anything like that - it’s within his right to - but he’s link, he’s the hero, the protagonist who was stuck to my side through it all. I know I shouldn’t have said that it wasn’t meant to be cruel but it was careless enough to hurt him. 

“I’m sorry, I came on to strong, you - you have every right to be scared of me. I promise though love I - I will never hurt you ever.”

“I know… I just panicked. You can explain now I won’t overreact again I swear. Or if you’d prefer -”

“If I would prefer..?”

“Why not get out first, then explain?”

Lighting up a firework in my face would have been less blinding than his smile in that moment, it’s such a sweet smile - a genuine one too. Meaning that I said the right thing, that I’m doing the right thing by giving him this chance. 

Hopefully, I won’t regret it.

“Really? You’ll let me do that?”

“I think it’s a good idea, it’ll be easier to talk to you as well. Just - how are you going to go this?”

“Um, oh, well uh, I think I could possibly make your switch into a mock version of a warp medallion? Then link my slate to it and just well”

“That makes sense, you can go ahead then, shouldn’t take long right?”

“No, no it won’t.”

A couple of seconds was all the wait it needed for him to stumble out of the blue lights and right onto me, clearly disorientated by the shift into reality. Probably not as bad as any of the 2d links would have struggled to be fair to him. It was an even shorter wait for him to jump onto me and cling even tighter than a koala could ever hope to, nuzzling up against my neck like it’s the only - because - it’s the only real touch he’s ever felt. 

“So you want to explain then?”

“Could we wait? That took much more effort than I thought. I just want to rest a bit if that’s alright.”

“As soon as you’re rested enough to. You going to sleep for a bit then?”

“No I still want to talk, just about something less taxing?”

Seems like he’s more dodging the topic than anything, which is fine I can get him to talk about it later, there really isn’t a rush for anything. It’s fine. Besides he’s like an excited kid that’s staying up way past his bedtime right now, where’s the harm in staying like this for a bit?

“Mind if I ask why you’re so determined to call me ‘love’ then?” 

“Because you’re everything to me, my light, my love, my life - you’ve been with me through everything. From when I woke to killing ganon and you didn’t abandon me there. You’ve shown me your favourite cities, stuck with me when you had the choice to choose others because you said I am you favourite, so really? How could I not love you?”

“You were aware even in Mariokart?” 

His giggle is sweet, he’s so charming right now, especially with how unaware of it he is. It’s so earnest and unfiltered, just so raw, I could go the rest of my life with that being the only thing I ever hear again. Compared to how he acted in cutscenes as well? He’s happy. Tired but happy.

“Oh before I forget, You should be expecting a delivery actually!”

“What.”

“I’ve been wanting to get out of the game for a while so I ordered some things to try make myself more appealing to you.”

“Like what? Link you didn't need to do anything like that.”

He just shrugged, seems like I won’t be getting an answer to that till whatever arrives whenever it does. Seems he really wasn’t lying about being tired though, he’s already starting to fall asleep laying against me like this. Thankfully he’s light enough to move to a more comfortable position, although theres nothing I can do about how tightly he’s holding me and truthfully? There’s nothing I want to do about it.

“Y’know I think I could get used to this.”

“Yo’ will I pr’mise, I’ll make you addicted to m’.”

“Well that isn’t ominous at all… and you’re already asleep.” 

[myslutwritings]

Hi there! How are you doing?:) I've loved your writings and I'm so happy that you mentioned that you're comfortable with writing for self harm as I'm never sure if I shall request such topics or not. :(

I'd like to request sfw headcanons for Muzan and Douma when they discover that reader has got many self harm-scars(cutting)? How would they react and what would they say? I don't really care if reader is AFAB or GN but I'd say to make it GN so more people can enjoy your writing!!:)

Thank you and take your time!<3

Aw, thank you so much. I’m happy to know you are fond of my writings! thank you again for requesting.

➤ Muzan and Douma with a S/O who has self harm scars

➤ SFW headcanons

Muzan & Douma x GN!reader

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•

•

warnings: self harm

Muzan Kibutsuji 🩸

Muzan wouldn’t know how to react at first.

He’s never dealt with anything like this before.

I mean, Muzan is in fact familiar with the concept of self harm.

He’s just never witnessed it first hand, you know?

Is in shock at first. You can’t tell because he often wears his calm expression. But he’s panicking on the inside.

Muzan is absolutely distraught to discover the scars aligned your wrists. (Fresh or old it still counts)

Then again, he honestly doesn’t know how to help at first so he asks if there is anything he can do to make you feel better.

If you don’t want to talk about it yet he will try his best to understand and not be so pushy. gives you the space you desire because he would hate to make you uncomfortable.

Doesn’t mean to be pushy about it but he’s only like that because he cares.

However, do not just expect him to drop the whole thing! Muzan wants to know everything still. he isn’t going to let this slide.

How long have you been self harming and what compelled you to commit such harmful acts upon yourself?

Is curious and wants to know everything on your mind. even if it secretly hurts him to witness you in so much pain.

He hates the fact that your beautiful skin has been damaged.

Holds you in his arms all while comforting you properly.

This is the first time you’ve seen Muzan this affectionate.

After the two of you have a heart to heart conversation about this he will force you to throw all away your blades

If your refuse he will do it for you.

Muzan is angry, not at you, just by your choices. He knows you can’t help it and that it was a former addiction but he just can’t control it.

He’s also angry with himself for not finding out sooner.

After he finds out you self harm you bet he’s going to become even more protective and keep an eye on you.

If anyone dares to upset you or point out your scars he’ll just kill them right on the spot. Even if it’s one of his uppermoons.

“My dearest, please do not ever do this to yourself again. You know that i’ll always be here for you, don’t you?”

Douma ❄️

It takes Douma awhile to find out.

Mostly because he’s so busy running the cult. His lack of emotion doesn’t make it any better either.

However, with you he feels things! Doesn’t give a fuck about his naive little followers and his duties.

Still dedicates his time to you! Whenever he is bored or not doing anything he will check up on you.

He found out while the two of you were having a cuddling session.

Douma is aware that people self harm but like Muzan he never witnessed it.

Is horrified his S/O would do such a thing.

Doesn’t understand.

He knows it won’t make it any better if he throws a conniption fit so he settles down and communicates with you about it.

He still doesn’t fully understand but do not let that mistake you for him not caring. Douma cares SO much. you may just need to explain everything to him in greater detail.

Oddly is fast at understanding? Because he feels emotions around you it makes things easier.

It breaks his heart to know his S/O would have such thoughts and hurt themselves because of it.

Douma and you throw away your blades together.

And from that moment onwards he’s never letting you out of his sight or giving you any privacy. Not even to use the restroom.

You’re sleeping with him, attending his meetings with his pitiful followers, bathing with him, etc.

Ditches his basics duties for the sake of his beloved S/O.

Douma takes care of you pretty damn well. just his only red flag is the lack of privacy.

Doesn’t give you privacy until you promise him you aren’t going to relapse again.

He just wants to look out for you and protect you from harms way:(

Mentally checks up on you everyday, asks how you’re feeling? etc!

Doesn’t care for other peoples problems in the slightest, he isn’t even listening to his followers, but with you he does as you vent to him about anything that’s on your mind.

Cradles you in his lap whenever you’re upset and gives you all the attention you need!

He loves you fiercely and doesn’t want to lose you.

Reminds you that he’s here for you and that self harming is not the answer. Honestly gives you great and genuine advice.

“My lotus, do you know how upset i would be if i lost you? Please never do such things to yourself ever again!”

A/N: If any of you out there are struggling right now i promise it gets better! As someone who used to self harm frequently who is now almost a year clean i can assure you it gets better over time. You matter and you are loved! <3

I promise i’m getting to everyone’s requests! Feel free to keep sending them in. It may take me time but i’ll make sure to do everyone’s requests in my inbox. Thank you for the overwhelming support. I appreciate you all so very much.

[markhoffmans-certified-slut]

hii, i was wondering if you could make a art x reader? i would prefer headcanons but anything is fine!! no rush btw <3

Art the Clown x f!reader 

Word count: 1.5K

Notes: Okay, so I technically will be doing a “What it’s like to date Art the Clown” chapter, but this will sort of be in a similar format, if that makes sense. I hope that you enjoy this!! Sorry for the super long wait, I was digging through my asks and saw this one for the first time and I was like “I should do this” 😂

Also, there wasn’t any specification on if you wanted anything smutty as well, so I just kept this one fluffy! 

<>~<>~<>

You met super unconventionally. It was dark out, you were walking home late, and you were wearing a sparkly dress and pretty heels. You were perfect bait for the clown. He assumed that you were leaving a club, a party, etc., but what he hadn’t expected was for you to be so aware of your surroundings. You had heard him, then you saw him, then you fucking bolted. 

Art was so surprised to see the way you ran in the heels that he almost forgot to chase you. 

Almost. 

By time he had caught you, he thought you’d give up. Instead, he got whammed in the head by a loose brick you saw on the ground. His vision went blurry, but he watched you take the heels off quickly before running again. This time you seemed faster than before. For once, he gave up and looked at the sky through blurred vision and let you go.

A day went by, then a week, then a month, before he saw you again. A similar circumstance, but this time you were a bit more disorientated. You wore flats, had a wristlet-purse on, and jeans this time. You were grasping the wall for support, but you were alone. He watched you for a minute, slowly following behind the bushes across the street, remembering before when you had gotten away. 

Did he hold a grudge? Sort of, but he wanted you. To kill? He was unsure. This was the very first time Art had ever seen a pretty girl walking alone and not immediately gotten the urge to stab until she was dead. He waited a minute, trying to decide what to do with his strange emotions, when he realized that the two of you were at the same spot where you had hit him over the head. Truth be told, the rest of that night was slightly blurry for him, and not just because his vision went wonky. 

He was angry, but there was more inside of him than that. Curiosity, a dreaded sense of interest. Nobody had ever gotten away like you had. He wanted to know more about you. he needed to know more about you. 

You were much more coherent the night before. Tonight you were wobbling on your feet. Part of you thought about going back, but you were already more than halfway home. By time you made it to the spot that you had hit that clown over the head, you were too far gone to turn back. Through your still drunken state, you continued to head in the direction of your apartment, holding onto the wall for support. 

That’s when you heard a second set of footsteps right behind you splash in the water. By time you turned around, it was too late. 

He held you in captivity with him for awhile. Occasionally bringing you back an eyeball or a dead mouse as a gift. Sort of like a cat. You would groan in disgust and scoot back against the wall while he sat cross-legged across from you and sent you a deranged smile while he waited for you to take his gift. When you eventually didn’t, Art would move on. 

Slowly, you started to warm up to the strange clown. Never once did he hurt you. Only did he stand or sit there and watch you. It was creepy, sure, but you had a lot to be thankful for. Eventually Art let you out of the chains and showed you around his little workshop-makeshift sleeping area. Did he ever actually sleep? You weren’t sure. 

Time went by fast with Art. Sooner than you thought, you started to actually like the clown. What came after that, you were certain your younger self would have been afraid of and disgusted by. 

Months went by. Eventually you were free to wander the barred up building while he was out. Of course the door was locked from the outside, but truth be told, you were fine staying around here. He started to bring you actual food instead of just scraps he probably found in the dumpster. 

And then, one day, he just left the door unlocked. A test, maybe? You were almost disgusted with yourself, but when the door creaked open when you tried it (mostly out of old habit), you hesitated. Then, you shut the door and went back to the bed you slept on and went to sleep. When Art came back, you could tell he was surprised. 

After that, the rest was history. 

The little gifts Art brought you back started to be less weird. Instead of body parts, dead mice, or metal scraps, he brought you back real food, a bracelet off a victim (shockingly without the arm attached), even a few books to pass the time. 

One day, instead of a wave goodbye, you kissed him on the cheek. You swore you might have seen a hint of embarrassment in his eyes before he turned to leave. 

Years went by quickly. One day Art returned you to your normal life, however he was quick to sneak into your apartment in the middle of the night and start resting with you. However, he trusted you. He allowed you to go back to work, to resume your life as it was before he kidnapped you. To see your friends again and go to bars, but this time the clown wouldn’t be the one stalking you to hurt you. He would follow you almost everywhere you went, watching, waiting for someone to try and hurt you so he could maim them. 

The longer you were with him, the better his gifts continued to get, until one day he brought you back a shiny diamond ring and told you that you could start wearing it (this wasn’t a request). 

Art understands that everybody can’t know who you belong to, but he wants to make sure everybody knows that you belong to someone. 

He doesn’t care how hard this is to explain to your friends. If he sees you without the ring, he finds it and he puts it back on you. 

There’s no reason to fight with him about anything. Art always gets his way in the end. 

Surprisingly, Art really likes dogs and insists on you getting a puppy, even if you’re the one that will have to do all of the training. Art really wants a dog and he shows you which kind to get. However, if you bring home a different type of dog, he would accept that as well. 

Sometimes when Art is sitting beside you, dressed in normal clothes without his clown makeup on, and he has his arm around you and the other resting on the dog, you feel almost normal. 

You never end up actually getting married. The ring is symbolism enough to the both of you. 

When he’s with you, Art slows down on the killing. Mostly because in order to cause midnight chaos, he has to be away from you. And sometimes all he really wants is to hold you while you’re sleeping. 

He’s not entirely sure how you got to him the way you did, but he can’t say he complains. In a way, you hope that maybe Art will one day stop it all together. That he might end up being a normal husband-like-boyfriend-demon-being-thing. 

At the end of the day, Art would choose you over murdering and you would choose him even if he continued with his old ways. 

He loves horror movies and he will always make you watch them with him. If you ever get scared, he’ll make fun of you a little bit, but he will also keep you close and kiss your head. Art likes to watch bloody, gory horror movies, but his favorite is Nightmare on Elm Street. 

He’s seen it over 75 times. 

He falls asleep during regular movies. 

Art is sort of like a guard dog. Every time that something goes bump in the night, even if he’s snoring louder than the devil, he bolts upright and insists on taking a look around. The dog usually goes with him. Because of this, new environments are harder for him to get used to. 

He is like a bottomless pit. Art eats a lot of food. 

Art is terrible at any form of game. He gets annoyed and swats his hand at the air and starts pouting when it gets too hard. Video game, board game, verbal game— it doesn’t matter. He sucks at all of them and 9 times out of 10 will refuse to play. 

He teaches you sign language because he can’t/doesn’t speak. You think it’s funny how he overdoes everything he does when he mime’s it since he can’t talk. 

He loves it when you play along with his miming. Sometimes he pretends that he’s stuck in a box and he likes it when you pretend like you can’t get to him. 

Overall, Art is a shockingly supportive partner. When you’re having a bad day, he’ll ask if he needs to kill someone. He’s a great listener as well. He’ll sit there and hold you and rub your arm while you explain everything that happened. He’s more than willing to sit there for the whole night with you if it would truly help. 

You’re stuck with him for the rest of your life. You can’t ever leave Art. He won’t let you.