#ignore the quality i wanted to experiment with lighting

[madamejadex]

I’ve spoken before about the importance of healthy, respectful behavior from Dominants and how damaging poor dominance can be. But today, I want to gently shine a light on the other side of the slash. Because while submission is a beautiful, vulnerable offering… it’s also a role that comes with responsibility. And sometimes, submissives (just like Dominants) can fall into patterns of poor etiquette, disrespect, or even toxic behavior. Please understand that this isn’t about blame, shame or character assassination. It’s about creating awareness.

So let’s talk about a few behavior that can be harmful coming from the submissive side.

🖤 Topping from the bottom. This doesn’t mean expressing a need or asking for negotiation, it means trying to control the scene while it's happening. If you’ve consented to submit, then suddenly start giving instructions, correcting your Top, or trying to steer the entire experience without consent, you’re not submitting, you’re attempting to dominate the Dominant. And in a scene, this can not only break the energy, it can be deeply damaging and disrespectful. And in worst case scenario it can force the dominant into a Dom drop.

Something to keep in mind: If you can't surrender, you're not ready to submit.

*do not confuse this with Power Bottoms.

🖤 Withholding communication or using emotional shutdown as control. Going silent after a scene, refusing to use your safeword but still holding resentment, or using vulnerability as leverage (“If you loved me, you’d know what I need”), that’s not healthy submission. That’s emotional manipulation. You are responsible for your voice, your words, and your accountability.

🖤 Ignoring boundaries and consent. Yes, Dominants have boundaries too. No, we don’t exist solely to fulfill your fantasies on demand. Sending explicit messages without consent, pressing for intimacy, or guilt-tripping for attention is not cute. It’s disrespectful.

🖤 Entitlement masked as submission. Just because you want to serve someone doesn’t mean they owe you their time, dominance, or energy. Offering your submission doesn’t guarantee it will be accepted, and expecting otherwise is deeply inappropriate.

🖤 Emotional manipulation or sulking when corrected Power exchange isn’t one long validation session. Sometimes you’ll be corrected, held accountable, or reminded of a boundary. If your response is to pout, guilt-trip, or withdraw affection to punish your Dominant, that’s not submission. It's immaturity.

🖤 Using trauma or insecurity to avoid accountability. We all carry wounds. But weaponizing your past to excuse poor behavior, dodge growth, or demand someone else to carry your emotional load is unfair to everyone involved. Healing is a journey, and yes, a Dominant can be part of that. But the dominant isn't your therapist, and they aren't there to carry what you’re unwilling to face.

🖤 Bratting without negotiation. A little brattiness can be charming if it’s consensual, desired, and part of the dynamic. But bratting as a constant challenge to authority, especially without discussion, is just another form of disrespect.

🖤 Publicly disrespecting your Dom/me (or any Dom/me). Whether it’s sarcasm, teasing, or trying to embarrass your Dom/me in front of others- if it hasn’t been negotiated, it’s not dynamic play... it’s humiliation. And that’s a hard no.

Something to keep in mind: a submissive who can’t honor their Dominant publicly isn’t ready to serve them privately.

🖤 Comparing your Dom/me to others. Your Dominant is not a customizable fantasy doll. They are a person. And telling them someone else was “stricter,” “hotter,” or “more intense” is just a way to show you don’t know how to honor what you have.

So being a submissive does not exempt you from being self-aware, respectful, and emotionally present. In fact, those qualities make your submission more powerful, more beautiful, and more worthy of being held with care.

Just as I believe Dominance must be practiced with care, structure, and responsibility… Submission should be practiced with honesty, humility, and reverence.

You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be intentional. So if you’re going to kneel, do it with a heart ready to listen.

[cameronsbabydoll]

hi cutie ok i love ur account sm everything you write is absolutely AMAZING and just your theme and the vibes are so cutesy ughhh!! not to mention you’re unbelievably active.. and the stuff you write is still top tier quality 😭 you’ve probably already did this prompt before so ignore if you have !! do you think rafe would let reader have friends over on her birthday? or would he insist it’s “her special day” and she should just let HIM spoil her (mostly with gifts and his cock, obviously)

Rafe would absolutely take a very possessive and indulgent approach to your birthday, especially considering his dark, controlling side. He’d see it as the perfect opportunity to spoil you—but on his terms.

In his mind, it’s your day, yes, but that also means it’s his chance to remind you how much he takes care of you and how much you belong to him. So, if you wanted to have your friends over, he’d probably allow it, but only with a series of conditions and with him controlling the narrative.

Rafe would let you have a little bit of space for your friends—maybe a quick brunch or a light afternoon activity. But as soon as your friends leave, it’s his time. Before you even think about gathering with anyone, he’d probably have arranged something for you to pamper yourself beforehand—something he deems fitting.

“Go get your nails done at the best spa in the city,” he’d tell you in his smooth, authoritative tone. “And while you’re at it, get a wax. You’ll need it for later.” He'd raise an eyebrow, that smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

By the time you get back to the penthouse after your spa day, the place would be perfectly curated with all the things that fit your aesthetic. He’d know exactly what you love, and nothing would be left to chance. The place would be filled with vintage Barbie dolls, Sonny Angels, Sofia Coppola merch, and delicate coquette tops and trinkets that make your heart flutter with excitement. It’s not just a gift—it’s an experience he’s built around your desires.

You’d walk in, stunned at how perfectly he’s crafted the space just for you. A quick glance at the mountains of gifts, and your breath would catch. He knows exactly how to make you feel like his princess—but not without reminding you of your place.

Rafe’s spoiling wouldn’t just stop at the physical gifts. As he watches you enjoy the presents, there’s this feeling of satisfaction in his eyes. He’ll definitely get a thrill from seeing you so excited over everything he’s gotten you, all while subtly reminding you of his control.

“Do you like all of this?” he’d ask, his voice low and knowing. “I did it all for you, baby. Now, take it all in.”

And of course, he won’t just let you bask in the gifts. He’d expect a reaction, maybe even a kiss or two, as you show your appreciation. He’d slowly strip you of your coquette tops, getting closer to that perfect moment when he can admire the wax he paid for.

By the time the gifts are opened, you’re probably feeling like you’ve been thoroughly spoiled, but Rafe isn’t done. He’d pull you close and, with that insistent touch, he’d start to inspect your skin, making sure everything is exactly how he wants it.

“You look so perfect,” he’d say, his fingers tracing the smooth skin he’s so proud of, a dark gleam in his eyes. He wouldn’t be shy about reminding you who’s responsible for every single detail of your day.

He’d definitely inspect you carefully, his touch lingering as he praises you but also maintaining that subtle dominance he thrives on. It would be a mix of tenderness and possessiveness, a moment where he could feel ownership of your body in the most intimate way, all while treating you like the precious thing you are to him.

The night would go exactly how he wants it to—him pampering you in every way he can think of, from the physical indulgences (gifts, wax, pampering) to the more intimate parts (his hands, his touch, and his complete control over your time and attention). By the end of it, you’d know exactly who you belong to, and it would be a mix of indulgence, pleasure, and subtle reminders of how Rafe likes to make every moment about him, even when it’s your day.

All in all, Rafe’s reaction would definitely be a combination of indulging you completely while still keeping everything under his control. He’s the kind of guy who loves to spoil you, but it’s always with that sense of ownership in mind.

[pinkmoonastro]

Sun through the houses: Synastry

Sun in 1st, the sun person makes the house person feel understood. Ive had this aspect with one of my bestfriends. He was my go to person, the first one id call when anything interesting happened. Its easy to share your feelings with the sun person it feels natural. We gave each other more confidence. He acknowledged accomplishments in my life that others didn't. Things that i didn't even give myself credit for he shined a light on. This placement made me act more fearlessly because someone else saw that quality in me.

Sun in 2nd, Stability is a common attraction to this placement. The sun person sees the house person as someone they can depend on. House person can help sun person financially or help develop their interest. Together these two can create great business plans, they work well together towards mutual interest. Others see the couple as very business oriented. I have this placement with one of my brothers both ways and we grew up sharing alot of our things sometimes because he had to other times because we knew that would allow us to both have more. Also i would borrow money from him he's always been a saver. Ive always preferred to exchange money for experiences.

Sun in 3rd, Sun person is very easy to talk to almost like a Therapist or something. Your secrets are spilled easily. The house person naturally wants to share here but it goes both ways the sun person also feels very understood by the house person. There's a mutual openness and grace with this placement. If you were in a long distance relationship this is type of placement that would be beneficial. I have this with a sibling he is the sun person and we have mutual interest so it makes collabing very easy. We tend to naturally operate in the same direction even though we individually don't think that similar.

Sun in 4th, This placement can feel like looking into a mirror. This person is a blatant reflection of some of your own behaviors. On the surface they seem like your ideal partner. Very well received by family. Honesty well received in general they look good together. This placement focuses on healing emotions in yourself that you reject. Its easier to be grateful for the little things with this person. They show you new ways to view the same things. Here you will see the areas where your being naive. They want you to believe in yourself as much as they do.

Sun in 5th, Child like fun happens here. The way the sun person expresses helps the house person not take things so seriously. The sun person is in awe of the house person. Its such a cute placement, The sun person makes the house person feel special. It may not be long term but it shows you how to just be, with no added pressures. Express your love today don't wait type of vibe. You may even talk about having babies here, are you actually serious probably not but this placement loves to feed into fantasies and ideals and that's nice sometimes. Someone i had this placement with would always tell me how beautiful i was even when i was just chilling in pajamas it was cute. Ive also been the sun person and the way the house person handled their problems and stayed so mentally strong was very inspiring to me. It made me want to be less reactive and more of a problem solver. I looked up to their resilience.

Sun in 6th, The house person feels the need to improve because of the sun person. The things that you choose to ignore are brought up here. The energy is like ''deal with it now, no more waiting". The house persons structure and discipline is being improved here. Its often that the house person doesn't want to be seen as lazy by the sun person. Which can be very helpful if you have goals your working towards. Their energy is motivating especially when it comes to business related things. House person doesn't want to disappoint the sun person. Sun person sees the house person as capable of great achievements.

Sun in 7th, Long term friendship or friends turned lovers is the theme in this house. Relationships built here usually started innocently from just being around each other alot. Sometimes the Sun person can have unfair expectations of the house person. Unbalanced relationships is common here one or both people can feel they carry more responsibility and burden. It can feel like at times communication is missed, misinterpretations can always be worked through if both people are willing to listen to understanding and if they are relationships here will go the distance. Both sets of my grandparents had this placement and were married for over 40 years. This could also be person you have a child with and now your bonded to each other even if their wasn't marriage. They feel a sense of home in each other. This couple could like to stay home and do things together.

Sun in 8th, The sun person buries themself into house persons wounds often times wounds they didn't even know they had. Both people are meant to be transformed by the union. If this relationship can make it through the first few initial hurtles which tend to be more dramatic, this relationship will keep you together for a while. The way the sun person expresses can have the house person feeling the need to keep a defense up. The sun person feels the house person is running away from their issues. Sun person is made to feel like the bad guy because their just more comfortable bringing up the hard topics. If the house person is willing to drop their defensiveness and the sun person is willing to be patient and tactful with the house person this relationship would be one of the phoenix rising from the ashes. They would be unbreakable together.

Sun in 9th, This couple inspires each other. Expanding what you thought you knew. Transforming what you thought love was. This is a beautiful placement of people learning a new viewpoint on love and self expression. Sun person expands house persons viewpoints more but this placement goes both ways. Topics that you wouldn't normally talk about gets discussed here. Long term friendships are built through the expansion of the mind. Affection is easily shown here taking trips together would do this couple well and deeper the connection. They want to give to each other and spending money together is one of their favorite things to do. This is honestly one of my favorite placements its mentally and physically expansive.

Sun in 10th, Sun person is proud of house person. They want to show house person off they feel lucky to be with house person. It makes them look good publicly. This couple has a relationship that is centered around fun. They want everyone to see their affection towards each other. This couple is friends first and lovers second. This placement isn't as emotionally deep but it will make you feel important. They want people to know how amazing you are. Its very easy to be yourself and tap into your more child like energies with this placement. This couple shows each other sides of themselves no one else knows about. With that being said they can also be vicious towards one another if this relationship turns sour this couple will have no problem having public disputes. Also this may be a taboo type of relationship were people don't understand why your together or be curious on how the person got with you.

Sun in 11th, I bet this relationship started with lighthearted playful flirting. This is the most "friendly" placement. Intimacy may take more work to develop here. Ive had this placement in a friends with benefits situation. It can easily turn into that if both people aren't intentional about what they’re looking for. If they are, this is a great placement. Communication feels very open and theirs no pressure. This couple merges friend groups and could've also meet through friends or have mutual friends. This couple networks well together and other people are very attracted to their energy together. Its fun to watch them interact with each other. They’re the type to be in a room full of people but have their own sidebar conversation and cues towards one another.

Sun in 12th, Spiritual connection or secret infatuation? My sun is in the 12th house so ive experienced this more times than i would like to but in the same breathe i love it. The sun person unintentionally test who you thought you were. Boundaries become blurred in this house but its slick, you might not even notice until after the fact. Things that you might find embarrassing happen here "thats never happened before" type of things. Alot of the communication in this house goes unsaid. Its like the little social cues that your supposed to just pick up on. It can also feel like your being observed on how you react to situations. You still seem to be mysterious to each other no matter how long you've known each other. Like there's still something being hidden from you. Without trust this placement could easily lead to feelings of being deceived. Thats not to say your not being deceived though. Cheating is common in the 12th house. You could be completely shocked and unaware about your partner living a double life. With the 12th house there's really no planet person, house person dynamic it switches back in fourth. Theres alot of talking behind each others back but that doesn't have to be a bad thing the person could be speaking well about you, putting your name in the right spaces. You know the feeling of walking into a room that people were just talking about you in? Its like you didn't physically hear it but you feel it. Someones sun in your 12th can give that type of feeling for both people. If its not operating from an expansive place. If it is you experience complete devotion. Two people committed to the relationship no matter where its headed. Someone you can experience complete intimacy and vulnerability with. Complete was an unintentional brilliant choice of words here. Not to many can navigate the 12th house and make it out together but if you do... you'll feel you've completed something great and felt a connection sent directly from god.

[kumkaniudaku]

Sorry 2024

Summary: This is Terry's sorry for 2024. He ain't gonna mess up no more this year.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: None

Previous: *Askew

Pastel blue light filtered through linen curtains and filled the quaint kitchen while Patrice maneuvered between the refrigerator and nearby counter. She spoke a mile a minute, running through a laundry list of important tasks and updates to keep Terry aware of the day’s needs. 

He halfway listened while he scarfed down piping hot oatmeal to satisfy post-workout hunger and used his index finger to scrub backward on game film from the previous week. His receiver core was shaky at best. They’d need to tighten up in the final game of the season if they planned to start their playoff run strong and remain in the hunt for a the ever elusive state championship.

“Honey, don’t forget I’m driving your truck to work because you’re getting my oil changed during your lunch. Where are the keys?” The sugar-sweet lilt in her voice reserved for Terry and Terry only went mostly unnoticed by her husband. 

“Yeah. That’s good, baby.”

Patrice paused packing her lunch and shifted her weight to one side with a hand on her hip. “You’re not even listening to me.” 

“I heard you,” he answered, finally looking up. 

“What did I say?” 

“That you’re taking the leftovers. That’s good with me. I’ll grab something on base.” 

“I said that fifteen minutes ago. Strike two.” 

Terry’s mouth hung open for a half second as he thought back through their one-sided conversation. Admittedly, his mind was split into a million different streams of thought. Work problems, coaching responsibilities, household bills, the incoming holiday season, and its host of arrangements all fought for his attention day in and day out, leaving little room for intentional quality time with his wife. 

For Patrice, the indifference toward her when she talked to him was frustrating and getting old. On too many occasions she’d forgiven him for staring off into space or flat-out ignoring her when she spoke. If silence is what he wanted, she was well on the way to granting his wish. 

Swallowing down a gulp of water, Terry rushed to respond. “Woah, woah! Two? What was the first?” 

“I asked you to turn the dryer on last night while I took a shower and guess who woke up to wet clothes this morning? C’mon. Guess!” 

“Oh, shit.” Terry’s face contorted as he winced at the memory finally returning. 

“Oh shit. Go away.” She mocked with an exaggerated deep voice before rolling her eyes and making a face. Mimicry, in his experience since the tender age of 15, was usually the prelude to a vicious attitude that had turned many into sworn enemies for life.

“My bad, Treece. I started wa-” 

“Watching tape and forgot. Sing me a different song, Terrence.” 

The disappointment etched in her beautiful features sent Terry’s stomach into the soles of his feet. Patrice’s full lips sagged into a heavy frown as she wrestled food containers into her lunchbox without looking in his direction. He could take her mumbling her anger or sending more than a few curse words his way. But the sadness in her silence was too much. 

After pressing pause on his screen, Terry took measured steps toward Patrice to avoid disturbing an angry lion. 

He touched her hip first to test the waters. When she didn’t reject him, he moved in to take up space behind her and pull her back against his body. He pressed a soft kiss behind her ear. “I won’t make excuses. Forgive me, sweetheart. It won’t happen again.” 

Resistance faded slowly but surely as he nuzzled his nose into her neck between kisses. Tense muscles melted under his touch, relishing the extra attention meant to settle a disagreement. Anger fought to remain the chief emotion. Everything in her wanted to continue forging a war path until she was satisfied with the destruction. But she’d always had a weakness for this man with a smooth baritone and big hands that he loved to rub up and down her body.

She kissed her teeth before turning to plant a kiss on his cheek as a silent truce. “Whatever. You’re lucky I like you more than most other people.” 

“What I gotta do to get that like to a love before you leave the house?” 

Patrice pulled Terry’s bottom lip into another kiss and smiled. “It’d be great if you confirmed you used your mama’s Costco card to get the study hall snacks like we talked about.” 

Terry froze. For days he’d had the nagging feeling that he was neglecting a task. Something important but vague among all of the other thoughts and responsibilities swirling in his head. He’d hoped for a reminder, but not like this, not on the heels of wriggling his way out of Patrice’s wrath only moments before. 

Ever perceptive, Patrice didn’t need him to speak to know that he’d, once again, missed a memo. Anger was back from its short hiatus and making her body hot to the touch in a way Terry had been spared from his entire life. 

She fought to wrestle free from his grasp, her body thrashing until he relented and let her go. Terry watched her stomp around the kitchen, snatching items from the counter and forcing them into her bag on her way to the front door. He remained hot on her heels with pleas to make things right on his lips until she stopped short at the coat closet.

“Strike three! You’re so fuckin’ selfish sometimes, Terry, I swear.” She grumbled as she swapped her car keys for his on their shared personal items hook. “I thought you would grow out of that by now but here you are, damn near 33 years old, and still doing the same shit.”  

The dig at his past transgressions stung more than Terry expected. He tried to maintain his composure though the wounded man inside wanted to get to the bottom of why she’d chosen to toss such an insult out so casually. 

He took a deep breath to quell the combative questions clawing through his throat while he watched her shrug on her coat with spite in her eyes. “Look, I messed up. We don’t need to start throwing jabs back and forth. How can I help?”

His attempt to reach out for her hand was thwarted once she snatched away to yank open the front door.

“Terrence, the time to help was early this week. Hell, last night even. I don’t have time for your sorry this morning. I gotta go figure this out by myself yet again.” 

Immense guilt attached itself to Terry, producing a heavy heart as he tried to make sense of Patrice’s most venomous blowup to date. Never had she been so crass toward him, not even when he deserved it most. She’d always been the pinnacle of grace and forgiveness. What scared him most was the suspicion that she was more unhappy with his disappearing act than she’d let on in all their honest talks about their path forward after heartbreak. Half of him wanted to chase her into the early morning chill, stop her from leaving, and convince her to call in so that they could sort through every issue, past and present, until they were back on the right side of newlywed bliss. Rational thought told him that some things were best solved through action.

Bitterness fueled the remainder of Patrice’s day. Jokes in the breakroom were no longer funny. Her class clowns were less charming by fourth period. A fierce bout of irritability resulted in a pop quiz for her senior AP English class for not participating in the group discussion to her liking. Every second of every minute carried a dark, heavy cloud that she couldn’t shake. 

She wanted to scream at Terry until her chest caved in from exhaustion. She wanted to throw things across the room, destroying every item in her path until the sting of compounded letdowns, actions he wasn’t even responsible for, was distilled back into the tiny box of rage she kept tucked away in her heart. She kept it hidden on purpose. If it ever got loose, there was no guarantee she could fix the damage it left behind. 

Once school bells had rang and children were carted off to their respective homes, Patrice sat behind her desk with a small committee of cheerleaders congregating in her classroom. She kept her focus on grading the mountain of quizzes she’d created for herself, silently ready to give everyone extra credit for the attempt. 

“Ms. Ellis,” Alana, her captain, started as she dusted Doritos remnants from her fingers. 

Mikayla cut in. “It’s Mrs. Richmond now. She got married! You see her ring.”

“And you ain’t invite us?” Alana gasped, pretending to be offended. “That’s cold Mrs. Richmond. I thought we were cool.” 

“We’re cool, Lana. I didn’t know I was getting married until it happened. No one was invited.” 

“Can I at least see that big ol’ diamond up close?” 

Young girls with fairytales and romance novels seared into their perception of love begged for a chance to see Patrice’s wedding band up close. With more energy, she would shoo them away and redirect them to the bulletin board they abandoned to snack and gossip amongst each other. But arguments before work were taxing and all she could bring herself to do was push away from her desk and join them in the center of their circle with her hand outstretched for their inspection.

Oooh, ahhs, and everything in between overlapped as each young lady took her turn running their fingers up against the clear stone and white gold band engraved with her new initials. 

“I want me a ring just like this!” Camille explained as she took a picture to send to her boyfriend. 

“Can we see your husband? Is he nice like you?” 

Patrice paused. “Uh…yeah. He’s a nice man. You all should be with nice boys, or girls, or whoever you like. Don’t allow anyone to be anything less than nice to you.” 

“Okay, but can we see him,” another girl reiterated. 

“It’s Coach Richmond, duh,” Mikayla exclaimed. “They got the same last name. And they was in this old yearbook together. I saw it in Ms. Shields's class when we were having a yearbook meetin’.” 

More oohs and ahhs, this time fawning over the new football coach on campus and the picture Mikayla had saved to her cellphone. Patrice listened to them gush over the thorn in her side as she eased into a desk to take the pressure off her aching feet. 

Camille looked between the photo and Patrice with a smile. “He was your boyfriend when y’all went here?” 

“For a little bit. Right before we graduated. But we broke up that summer.” 

“How come?”

“He wanted to go to the military and I wanted to go to college,” Patrice answered after a deep sigh. “So, he went his way and I went mine because I wasn’t changing my mind. Remember that. Do what you wanna do. You have a whole life ahead of you.” 

The girls all mumbled some version of their agreeance before another question pushed the tea session forward. 

“Then how did y’all get married. He came back?” 

Patrice smiled at the memory of Terry standing on her porch that fateful summer morning. “Yeah. He just…came back. We talked and never stopped talking after that until he became my husband.”

“Did he say sorry at least?” 

“He always says sorry. All the time. He’s nice like that.” 

A chorus of swooning ‘awws’ rang out in the classroom and escaped into the hallway. Terry was nice like that. It didn’t matter that Patrice wanted to hate him and call him every name but a child of God. He always apologized and he always meant it. 

A distant smile covered Patrice’s face as she twirled her wedding band around her finger. 

Camille took the opportunity to poke fun at her coach. “Aww, look at Mrs. Richmond, y’all. She smiling big! You gon’ let him come to the AP Christmas party?” 

“That ain’t fair! I’m not in AP English and I wanna see him.” 

“Oh my God, we all gon' see him at the games. Calm down.” 

“Alright, alright, alright.” Patrice couldn’t contain her laughter at their eagerness to meet a man two times their senior with no interest in them outside of their connection to her. “Maybe you’ll meet him one day. Today, I need y’all to hurry up and-” 

A knock at the door interrupted Patrice, bringing her attention to a tall, slender young man who instantly turned heads. He smiled bashfully at all the ogling until Patrice redirected his eyes with a wave of her hand.

“What’s up, Deanté? You leave something in here?” 

“Nah. Coach Rich told us to bring some stuff to you. Where you want us to put it?” 

“Umm, I guess you can put it back here by my bookshelves,” she directed, pointing to the back of the room. Confusion created fine lines on her forehead. “I’m sorry, what’s happening?” 

Deanté shrugged in the way only teenaged boys too cool for school could before waving in the rest of his crew. Each of them came bearing the gift of snacks, carrying boxes of wholesale goodies to their intended place like worker ants serving their queen. Chips, cookies, pretzels, juices, and water stacked high along the wall instantly turned her quaint classroom into a stockroom until they’d delivered the final package. Bringing up the rear was Terry with flowers in one hand and a carryout bag from Patrice’s favorite bakery in the other. 

Pressed khaki slacks and a cotton polo fighting for dominance against his veiny bicep should’ve thanked him for making them look better than they ever could alone. Patrice wrestled her gaze away from his long legs to look away before she ended up flustered in front of impressionable children.

He lightly knocked against the door, his gaze soft and his smile welcoming. “May I come in?” 

Like the audience track from a 90s sitcom, young girls squeal in his presence, making him chuckle. Patrice rushed to control the madness. 

“See, this is why I have to keep my eye on y’all. Head to the gym and warm up. I’ll meet y’all down there.” They groaned their displeasure in a last-ditch attempt to buy more time with Terry. She re-emphasized her instructions. “Go on. For every second I have to keep looking at y’all after I’m done talking, that’s a lap. One, two, three…”

Quick feet and the threat of additional exercise cleared the room quickly, leaving Terry at the doorframe waiting for permission to enter. Patrice stood and straightened her turtleneck before inviting him inside. 

“Come in. Close the door behind you.”

Terry did as he was told in silence, hoping to appease the Queen in her castle. Patrice tried to remain stoic as she approached her portable lectern to thumb through the day’s notes and lesson plans. He deposited the flowers onto a nearby shelf then slid into a desk at the front of the class and waited for her to at least acknowledge him beyond a fleeting glance. 

Finally, she looked up and pointed at the white bag resting in front of him. “Is that for me?” 

“Yeah,” Terry smiled. “I haven’t seen you grab one in a while so I hope you still like the cinnamon roll. If not, I got the lemon loaf too. Your other favorite.” 

After all those years separating their adulthood from an entire semester of sneaking away during lunch for a warm, doughy signature roll, Patrice couldn’t believe Terry still remembered such a trivial detail. 

She bit her bottom lip to hide a smile as two short steps took her to the desk beside him. Metal creaked against the floor while they turned to face each other in seats too small for Terry who had come a long way from his high school physique. 

Terry watched Patrice quietly remove her treat from the bag and cut it in half with a plastic knife. She carefully placed one side on a clean napkin and passed it across the small gap separating them. 

She lifted her portion into the air and smiled a friendly smile. “Cheers?” 

“Cheers.” 

Their respective hunks of roll kissed the other briefly before they took big bites to satisfy early afternoon cravings. Terry chuckled as Patrice hummed her satisfaction with her eyes closed and shoulders lifted near her ears. 

A little piece of Heaven. He was happy to provide anything other than the strife he contributed hours earlier. 

“Thank you,” Patrice whispered once the delight of her first bite had passed and her eyes were open again. “It’s still my favorite. You were right.” 

He didn’t respond past a small nod and a small half smile as he watched her enjoy another bite. His thumbs nervously twiddled around themselves while he wrote and erased apologetic statements in his mind in a search for what to say next. 

“Treece, I can’t say enough how sorry I am.” 

“We don’t need to do this. I overreacted and threw things in your face.” She started, trying to stop the uncomfortable discussion before it could start. 

Terry remained steadfast. “No, you didn’t. You called me out and it was the right thing to do. I have been selfish and you’ve caught the brunt of that for a long time now. It’s not fair.” 

“I just…fuck.” Tears that Patrice had managed to keep at bay during work forced their way past her waterline before she could stop them. She dabbed at them with a napkin and took a deep breath. “I’ve had to be really independent for a long time. Relationships didn’t stop me from doing things on my own because they convinced me that asking for help made me weak. Then you came along and immediately took on more than I could’ve ever asked.”

“That’s what I’m here for, baby.” 

“Yeah, but when you stop all of a sudden or pick and choose when you wanna help, it makes me afraid that one day, you’re gonna stop altogether like everyone else. And I really, really can’t take you being like everyone else.” 

Another layer of Patrice had been shed to leave behind an emotionally raw, vulnerable woman searching for an anchor in her life. The tears were gone, but they left evidence of deep-seated hurt on her face. 

Terry reached across his desk for her hand which she offered without protest though she refused to look him in the eyes. He kissed her knuckles softly, paying special attention to her ring finger before lacing their fingers. 

Sad eyes looked across at her. “You’re my main priority. If you want me to drop all this extra shit, I’ll do it in a heartbeat. Say the word and it’s gone.”

“I don’t want that. Be honest with me. Listen to me. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Okay,” he spoke into the inside of her wrist. “Give me a chance to be better.” 

“You already are.” 

Where misunderstanding has once festered, a flower of progress bloomed. They’d traversed uncharted territory as a unit to find common ground that would lay the foundation for years to come. 

Patrice made the first move toward reconciliation, standing from her desk to meet Terry at his side. Her hands cupped the sides of his face, tilting his head up to hers as she stood over him. 

“I love you. Always. I might still be a little miffed, but I’ll get over it. Promise.” She landed a flurry of kisses on his forehead and he accepted while he wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“I understand. I’ll earn your trust again.” 

Fuzzy feelings and chaste affection in what they believed was a safe space were cut short when a small yelp and thud sent a group of girls crashing to the tile floor, pushing her door ajar.

Patrice giggled along with Terry as she turned to get a look at the spectacle. “That’s what you get for being nosey. Now get to the gym for real this time.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Richmond,” they all chanted as they scrambled to stand and scatter. 

Terry listened for them to exit hearing range before turning back to Patrice and leaning up to kiss her lips. 

“I’ll be done with practice at 6:30 sharp and come straight home. Don’t worry about dinner or anything else. Let me handle it.”

“No problem.”

Final kisses and another promise to be home on time sent Terry and Patrice in opposite directions with optimism pumping through their veins. Tomorrow would bring its own storms and issues to work out. But, those were tomorrow’s problems. 

Today, they’d lick their wounds and settle next to each other on the couch with love in their hearts and the taste of each other on their lips to make every hard time worth the end result.

-----

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3. protectively watchful (restaurant owner!harry x chef!reader)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here)

summary: you take up on the mantorship offer, but it creates more tensions and turmoil within you than were before. an incident in the kitchen makes harry go into protective mode, and you can't help but get turned on by this man more and more.

words: 4.8k

warnings: sexual tension (like A LOT), inappropriate behaviour, protective!harry.

***

"You wanted to see me, Chef?"

You gave a light knock on the open door of Harry's office, trying to sound polite and professional. It had been a few weeks since you had that talk with Harry about keeping things strictly business between you two. During that time, he had been a perfect mentor - giving you advice and guidance without any flirting or suggestive comments.

His coaching had really helped improve your cooking skills as you soaked up all his knowledge and experience. You were grateful to have a normal working relationship again, focused solely on culinary training. And yet...you couldn't ignore the faint lingering tension between you, that subtle underlying charge.

Harry looked up from the notebooks on his desk, his eyes crinkling in a warm smile when he saw you. "Ah, there you are. Come on in, have a seat."

You sat down in one of the chairs across from him as Harry neatened up the loose papers into a stack. Up close, you couldn't help noticing how well-fitted his black button-down shirt was, or how his tousled hair looked very touchable.  

Firmly reminding yourself this was just a professional meeting, you averted your eyes politely until Harry cleared his throat.

"So as you know, the big Martin gala fundraiser is coming up in a few weeks," he began, shuffling through some folders. "It's one of the biggest events of the year for underprivileged culinary education programs. I'll be preparing the featured dish for their live auction, and I'd love for you to assist me on it."

Your eyes went wide with surprise at this prestigious opportunity. The Martin gala was a hugely famous event in Chicago's culinary scene, attracting all the wealthiest and most notable diners. For an up-and-coming chef to collaborate on the centerpiece dish was an amazing honor and chance to get exposure.

"Wow, yes of course!" you replied enthusiastically. "I would be absolutely honored, Chef. Thank you for this incredible opportunity."  

Harry's dimples deepened as he smiled approvingly. "Don't thank me yet. We'll be under a huge spotlight to deliver an amazing showstopper dish. I expect you to rise to the challenge."

You quickly nodded. "You can count on me to give it my absolute best effort. I'm ready to do whatever work is needed."

"Excellent," Harry said in a slightly lower, huskier tone. "That's exactly what I like to hear."  

For a moment, his voice had a heated quality that hinted at other situations where your eagerness might be welcome. You ignored the shiver it sent through you, reminding yourself this was strictly business now between you two.

Harry seemed to realize he was skirting the line, as he abruptly straightened up and all hints of flirtation disappeared as he switched fully into mentor mode. "Right, well let me walk you through my basic vision so far..."

You leaned forward attentively as he outlined preliminary ideas for a highly ambitious and avant-garde dish blending molecular gastronomy techniques with classic French cuisine fundamentals. It was wildly cutting-edge, even for a showpiece event like the Martin gala. But the more details Harry provided, the more that same thrill of adrenaline rushed through you whenever presented with a new culinary challenge to conquer.

For the next hour, the two of you bounced ideas back and forth in that unique creative flow state that chefs share. Harry's presence was magnetic, but you refused to get distracted by more physical aspects - like the stretch of his biceps against his crisp sleeves, the hint of toned abs beneath his open collar, or the raspy timbre of his voice dipping into that lower register as he passionately discussed certain techniques.  

And oh, his damn tattoos.

No, you sternly told yourself as the conversation began wrapping up. Those days of getting flustered around him were over. Harry had made it clear where you stood, and you fully accepted those boundaries. Anything else was just self-torture.

"...but of course, those are just preliminary thoughts," Harry was saying as he collected the scattered folders into a neat pile. "We'll have plenty of time to refine the details over the next couple weeks."  

You nodded, filing away the mental notes you'd taken during the discussion. "Absolutely, Chef. Just let me know whatever you need for prep or testing different ideas to get a head start."

"Will do." With an air of finality, Harry gathered up the pile and rose from his seat. You quickly stood up as well, not wanting him to loom over you in the enclosed space. For a beat, you both hovered awkwardly, the air seeming to thicken between you.  

"Well then," Harry said, making no move to step past you towards the door. "I'd say this calls for a drink to celebrate our new collaboration, wouldn't you agree?"

Before you could reply, he turned and went to a small antique cabinet tucked in an alcove you hadn't noticed before. With a practiced hand, Harry selected a heavy glass decanter and two tumblers, placing them on the cabinet and expertly twisting off the stopper.

"Let's go with Lagavulin," he mused aloud, carefully pouring two generous glasses of the amber scotch whisky. "A good Scottish whisky seems appropriate for the occasion."  

"I really shouldn't, Chef," you said reflexively, already picturing your lightweight self getting sloppy and unprofessional after even a single drink.

But Harry just chuckled softly. "Loosen up a little. It's a celebration, after all."

He emphasized this by bringing one of the heavy tumblers over and pressing the cool glass into your hand. You frowned down at the coppery liquid, worrying your lower lip uncertainly. But before you could protest further, Harry gently clinked his glass against yours in a silent toast before taking a sizable sip.

The whisky's smoky, peaty aroma seemed to wrap around you intimately. Despite your hesitation, you couldn't help giving an appreciative inhale before taking a small, tentative sip yourself. Bold, layered flavors of vanilla, caramel, and charred oak underscored by an earthy smokiness burst over your tongue. You let out a soft sigh of indulgent pleasure at the decadent taste.

"Good, isn't it?" Harry's gravelly voice made you start slightly. He was watching you with amusement, whisky glass dangling casually from those large, handsome fingers. "It really hits you in the back of the throat, makes you slow down and savor it fully."

You suddenly realized the suggestive implication behind his phrasing and felt a flush of heat bloom across your face and chest. Harry watched the play of emotions flickering over your features with relish before taking another indulgent sip. This time, you noticed the way his full lips pursed delicately to drink, the tiny furrow of concentration between his brows as he savored the flavor before swallowing.

Unconsciously, your eyes tracked the mesmerizing flex of his throat as he swallowed, the hint of stubble grazing along his chiseled jawline. A twinge low in your abdomen accompanied the thought of feeling that scratchy burn of beard between your thighs, that talented mouth working magic elsewhere on your body.

Mortified, you shut down that wayward trail of thought through sheer willpower. Your cheeks grew even hotter as you realized Harry had caught you staring, his own gaze darkly amused.  

"Easy there," he murmured huskily, stepping a bit deeper into your personal space. "This dish is a marathon, not a sprint. Best to learn to savor every indulgent morsel along the way."

With a pointed look and arched brow, Harry raised his whisky to those plump lips once more, holding your gaze as he placed the rim against that full lower lip and let out an obscenely gratifying groan of pure delight.

Moments after, the tension had subsided, but the flush and blush that had creeped up your cheeks wasn’t going away anytime soon–you were sure of that.

***

You tried to push aside the lingering thoughts about the “Celebration” that were now implaed into your mind, and the way tiny droplets of the drink remained on his lips till he licked them off with his tongue–

You wanted that tongue to be yours.

Shaking your head, you focused on prepping the ingredients for the evening service. The dinner rush would be starting soon and you needed to have everything ready. As you worked, you were vaguely aware of the dining room filling up with patrons being seated. The sounds and aromas of the bustling kitchen surrounded you in a familiar, comforting way.

You were so engrossed in your tasks that you didn't notice the man approach until he cleared his throat loudly. Looking up, you saw a smartly-dressed diner smiling at you in a way that made you instinctively uncomfortable.

"Well, hello there," he said in a syrupy tone. "I was just admiring the delicious-looking fare over here." He raked an obvious look up and down your body. "The menu selections have my mouth watering already."

You stiffened, recognizing the overly familiar leer. This wasn't the first time you'd dealt with an obnoxious patron hitting on you. Keeping your expression neutral, you replied in a polite but firm tone. "I'm afraid you'll need to return to the dining room, sir. The kitchen is off-limits to guests."

Rather than taking the hint, the man leaned nonchalantly against your prep station. "Don't be like that, sweetheart. I was just hoping you could suggest something...special for me to sample tonight." He punctuated this with an exaggerated wink.

Suppressing a grimace, you turned away to continue your work, hoping he would give up and leave. No such luck. The lech sidled closer until he was nearly pressed against you. "What do you say? I'd love for a tasty little thing like you to--" 

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the kitchen area immediately." Harry's firm baritone cut across the man's words like a whip crack.  

You looked up in relief to see your boss standing with arms crossed, jaw clenched as he glared at the offending patron. Even from several feet away, you could sense the potent force of his displeasure rolling off him in waves.

The diner seemed to shrink slightly under Harry's censorious scowl. "Oh, uh, my apologies. I was just trying to get some personal recommendations--"

"The kitchen is off-limits and you're making my staff uncomfortable," Harry interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "I won't ask again. Return to your table or you'll be asked to leave the premises."

Looking sufficiently cowed, the lech swiftly retreated with some mumbled apologies. You exhaled slowly, trying to dispel the anxiety brought on by the unpleasant encounter. Harry stepped closer, his expression softening as he looked you over with concern.

"You okay? That asshole didn't go too far, did he?"

You managed a faint smile, oddly touched by the protective edge in his voice. "I'm fine, Chef. Just another boorish customer thinking the uniform is a dinner invitation."  

His jaw tightened again as he scowled in the direction the man had gone. "That type of behavior is completely unacceptable. You let me know right away if anyone hassles you like that again, understand?"

Nodding, you found yourself blinking rapidly against the unexpected prickle of grateful tears at having Harry firmly in your corner, despite the complicated dynamics between you lately.  

For a long moment, he watched you carefully as if gauging your equilibrium. Then Harry surprised you by reaching out and briefly squeezing your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. The warmth of his large hand seeped through your uniform, leaving a tingly imprint even after he pulled away.

"I've got your back, [Y/N]. You focus on doing your job and let me deal with any assholes who get out of line."

The gruff tenderness in his words made your heart do a traitorous little flip in your chest. You nodded again, not trusting your voice enough to respond properly.

With one final pointed look, Harry turned and headed back out to his front-of-house duties.  As you watched his broad-shouldered form disappear through the swinging doors of the kitchen, you felt a complicated tangle of gratitude, protectiveness, affection...and yes, a lingering undercurrent of attraction that you couldn't seem to fully extinguish despite your best efforts.

You spent the rest of the dinner service determinedly pushing aside any lingering thoughts about Harry or the earlier incident. Focusing fully on your work was the only way to get through these confusing emotions that had you all over the place..

The rhythm of prepping, plating, and coordinating with the other line cooks settled into a familiar, reassuring routine. The constant flurry of chopping, sautéing, and barked orders provided a sort of meditative escape from your muddled headspace.

By the time the last diner had been served and the kitchen was winding down for the night, you felt pleasantly drained in that satisfying way that comes from a job well done. As you began breaking down your station for cleaning, Harry emerged from his office looking satisfied.

"Excellent work tonight, everyone," he called out in that effortlessly commanding tone. "Front-of-house said the new salmon dish was a huge hit. We'll definitely want to keep that one on the seasonal menu." 

A chorus of tired but pleased murmurs went around the kitchen at the praise. Harry's eyes found yours amidst the small crowd, holding your gaze a beat longer than strictly necessary before moving on to the other cooks. You tried not to read too much into it.

With the nightly pep talk concluded, Harry rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white chef's coat, joining everyone in the evening breakdown and cleaning duties. You watched surreptitiously as he expertly broke down one of the grill stations, muscles in his broad forearms flexing enticingly with each efficient movement.  

Get a grip, you scolded yourself, quickly refocusing on scrubbing down your own prep area. This was exactly the kind of distracted, unprofessional behavior you were trying to avoid lately around Harry.

Despite your best efforts, however, you couldn't fully ignore him moving about the kitchen, checking in with each station to oversee their sanitation. At one point, he paused to examine some utensils that hadn't been properly cleaned, tsking in displeasure before batting them aside to be re-scrubbed.  

"That's never going to meet inspection," he chided the sheepish-looking young line cook in his trademark gruff tone. "Do it again, and do it properly this time. We're not running a greasy spoon here."  

As much as his uncompromising attitude could be intimidating, you also found it oddly...thrilling to witness Harry taking charge so authoritatively. Not to mention the visual of those powerful hands deftly at work was sending your thoughts in an unprofessional direction yet again.

Sternly redirecting your focus, you turned your back to give the area behind the grill station a thorough scrubbing. You were so engrossed that you nearly jumped out of your skin when Harry's low voice sounded directly in your ear.

"Everything looking good over here?" 

You whirled around to find him looming directly behind you, near enough that you could smell the spicy notes of his subtle cologne mingling with the lingering kitchen aromas clinging to him. Up this close, you couldn't help noticing how the top buttons of his coat had come undone at some point, offering a teasing glimpse of the toned chest beneath.

Trying not to stare, you quickly averted your eyes as you nodded. "Y-yes, Chef. All clean on this side."

"Hmm." His assessing gaze slowly raked over your work before returning to your flushed face. The tiniest of smirks played about his lips as if he could read the direction of your thoughts.  

"Well, then. Carry on," was all he said before turning and strolling unhurriedly back towards his office, burgundy cargo pants slung enticingly low on those lean hips.

You let out a shaky breath, mentally cursing how easily flustered you still became around this man, no matter how much you tried to enforce boundaries. Resolutely, you refocused on finishing your cleaning tasks, determined to get out of there before any more distracted lapses in professionalism.

By the time the kitchen had been scoured from top to bottom, you were one of the last few staffers remaining. Wearily peeling off your apron, you were just reaching for your bag when Harry reappeared, looking unhurried and relaxed now that the nightly duties were done.

"Heading out?" he asked as you approached, one thick eyebrow raised questioningly.

You stifled a yawn with the back of your hand. "Yeah, I'm beat. Gonna try and get some extra sleep before the morning prep shift tomorrow."

He made a noncommittal sound, falling into step beside you as you headed for the employee exit out back. For a few moments, you walked in silence, oddly aware of the warmth radiating off his body this close to yours.

When he finally spoke, it wasn't at all what you expected. "You did good with that asshole customer earlier."

Your steps faltered slightly at the praise before quickly recovering. "Oh...uh, thanks, Chef. You really didn't need to step in like that."

"The hell I didn't," he countered gruffly. There was an edge to his tone that made the tiny hairs at your nape prickle. "No one treats my staff like piece of meat, especially not in my own goddamn kitchen."

Harry shook his head in disgust at the very idea, causing a lock of mahogany hair to fall rakishly across his furrowed brow in a way that really shouldn't have been as distracting as it was.

Swallowing hard, you refocused on the matter at hand. "I've dealt with guys like that before. Just comes with the territory sometimes, y'know?"

"That doesn't make it acceptable," he insisted, mouth setting into a grim line. You found yourself unable to look away from the sharp angles of his frowning profile, chiseled jaw ticking faintly with irritation, that he tried to mask.

He fixed you with those intense pale eyes, all traces of humor gone. "No one - and I mean no one - gets to treat any of you with disrespect while I'm in charge around here. I won't stand for that shit under my roof."

The ferocity in his tone sent an involuntary shiver rippling through you, though from wariness or...something else entirely, you couldn't say. All you knew was the low, authoritative resonance of Harry's voice carried an unmistakable air of command that raised goosebumps along your arms.

Maybe it was the late hour, or the fact you were walking in such close proximity out of public view. Or hell, maybe it was just the sheer presence of this man who could flip between stern taskmaster and something rawer, more carnal in the blink of an eye.

Whatever it was, you felt that subtle spark between you ignite and suddenly, you desperately needed to be alone to process the yearning that flickered to life low in your belly. Before you could consider the impulse further, you were blurting out the first excuse that came to mind.

"Well, thanks again for that. And for the whole mentorship thing too. I, uh...I actually have some errands to run, so I'll just catch you tomorrow morning, 'kay?" 

You didn't even give Harry a chance to respond before ducking through the exit, muscles taut with confused tension. As the cool night enveloped you, you drew a deep, shuddering breath in an effort to steady yourself.

Whatever weird atmospheric flux had momentarily enveloped you back there was too dangerous, too distracting from the tenuous balance you and Harry had only just reestablished. No, it was better to put some space between you before things got muddied again.

With a fierceness born of sheer force of will, you wrestled your turbulent, wandering thoughts back under control. You were a professional, with goals to work towards. Getting pulled into Harry's electrifying orbit again would only derail you.

Still, as you hurried to your car, his shape-shifting countenance kept flashing unbidden across your memory - the dazzling smile, the brooding intensity, the simmering promise of authority barely restrained. All of it provided an infuriatingly potent combination that had your body humming with repressed longing despite yourself.

This was going to take more effort than you'd anticipated.

***

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of grueling practice runs and preparation for the Martin gala. You and Harry spent nearly every waking hour in the kitchen, iterating endlessly on his showpiece dish concept.

With the prestigious event date rapidly approaching, any lingering awkwardness or tension between you had been shifted firmly into the background. The shared urgency of perfecting this culinary masterpiece became an all-consuming focus that left little room for anything else.

Still, that didn't stop you from noticing...things.

Like how the sleeves of Harry's whites had an endearing tendency to get shoved up his forearms in a way that displayed those tanned, sinewy muscles to distracting effect as he worked. You definitely didn't linger over the sight of his strong hands deftly wielding a knife, making precise, practiced cuts. And you absolutely did not imagine those dexterous fingers trailing across your skin instead of the cutting board.  

At least, that's what you sternly told yourself in an ongoing effort to maintain focus.

For his part, Harry was all business during these preparation sessions - issuing clipped instructions, evaluating ingredients with a critical eye, pushing both of you relentlessly to get every component just right. Only rarely did you catch hints of something more underneath that professional veneer.

Like the time you were bent over a burner, carefully spooning out the orbs of flavored olive oil onto the waiting plate. Harry stepped up behind you to examine your work, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. As he leaned in closer to inspect the delicate orbs, his low murmur caressed the fine hairs at your nape in a way that made you shiver.

"That's it...go nice and slow with a deft touch," he rumbled in that raspy timbre that never failed to send tingles shooting straight to your core.

Heart pounding, you risked a sidelong glance to find his pale eyes already locked on yours, glittering with an intensity that contrasted sharply with his deceptively neutral expression. A charged moment stretched between you as that underlying spark you'd been determinedly ignoring flared, sudden and molten. 

Just when you thought you might spontaneously combust, Harry blinked and cleared his throat brusquely. "Carry on, then," he instructed in his normal crisp tone before turning away to focus on another component. 

You stood motionless for several heartbeats, fingers clenched around the spoon, skin flushed and tingling in equal measures of arousal and disbelief. Did that really just happen or had the endless hours in the kitchen started affecting your mind?

Too skittish to ponder it further, you dove back into your tasks with even more single-minded focus, the uneasy moment shelved and locked away tight. No matter what fleeting tension arose in isolated pockets, you couldn't afford to unpack it right now - not with the enormity of what was at stake.

The days ticked down in a relentless march until finally, you and Harry stood in the solitude of his spartan office the night before the big event, taking a breather from your marathon final prep session.

An ungodly number of mise en place containers filled every available surface, each holding fussed-over components of the highly elaborate and conceptual dish that would make its debut tomorrow. Harry had pushed you both to your physical and creative limits, drilling the execution repeatedly until he was satisfied you could plate it flawlessly under the anticipated scrutiny.

Now, having quality-checked and prepped every last possible element, there was nothing further to do except rest up and bring your sharpest mental game tomorrow. Harry seemed to deflate slightly as the backdrop of mounting pressure decreased for the first time in weeks.

Propping his hip against the desk with studied nonchalance, he quirked one eyebrow in a sidelong glance. "You ready for this?"

Despite your weariness, you felt that familiar thrill of adrenaline stir at those simple words - as well as a contradictory quiver of nerves. This event was a make-or-break opportunity of the highest magnitude, especially for someone like you just starting out. Either you nailed your responsibilities tomorrow, or it all came crashing down in front of Chicago's most elite gourmands.

Shoving aside the sudden flutters of doubt, you met Harry's inscrutable gaze head-on, straightening your spine. "You know I am. We've put in the work, and this dish is gonna blow them all away."

A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his sculpted mouth as he studied you appraisingly. "That's what I like to hear. Just remember - all the technique practice in the world won't mean a thing if you panic out there."

The subtle warning made you bristle defensively, never one to back down from a challenge. "I'm not going to panic," you scoffed. "I eat massive amounts of public pressure like this for breakfast."

Harry's eyes danced with amusement, and not for the first time, it struck you how effortlessly he could switch between imposing and playful. "Is that so?" he drawled easily. "In that case, would you care to make things a bit more interesting?"

Before you could respond, Harry kicked off from the desk in one sinuous motion to prowl closer. Despite your weariness, you felt your heart rate kick up several notches as he invaded your personal space, long body coiled with a loose, predatory grace.

"Let's say we raise the stakes a little," he proposed in a tone of studied nonchalance that was completely belied by the heated glint in his eyes boring into yours. "If you can prove you've got the chops to keep a cool head under fire tomorrow, I'll take you out afterwards to celebrate. Just you and me, anywhere you want to go."

Your mouth went instantly dry at the implications behind his offer. Were those...the unmistakable undertones of flirtation coloring his invitation? After the weeks of him keeping things strictly professional between you, the sudden shift was dizzying - and left you dangerously intrigued.

"And what if I choke?" you heard yourself countering recklessly before you could reconsider. "What do you get out of it then?"

His answering smile was pure blistering sin. "Oh, sweetheart. If that happens...I get to take you out too - but somewhere a bit more private."

Harry paused to let the suggestive proposition linger, backing it up with a slow, heated raking of his pale eyes over your body that left zero doubt as to his implication. Heat bloomed furiously across your cheeks as forbidden images flooded your mind unbidden - flashes of tangled limbs, straining muscle, sweaty exertion of a far different sort...

Then, just like that, the provoking spell was broken. Rocking back on his heels, Harry shrugged one broad shoulder in an easy, dismissive gesture. "But that's not going to happen, is it? You've got all the skills, you've put in the time - no reason to buckle tomorrow."

He threw one final weighted glance in your direction before pivoting on his heel towards the door. "Get some rest. I'll see you at the venue early to do our final walkthrough before we get this show on the road."

And with that parting comment, Harry strode casually out, leaving you rooted there in dumbfounded silence. What the hell had just happened? One moment, you'd merely been steeling yourselves for tomorrow's high stakes challenge - and then suddenly he was issuing some bizarrely flirtatious...proposition.

Or was that really what it was? As you stood there chasing replays of his words, his tone, his body language - the whole previous interaction kept taking on a slinkier, more salacious cast. Like maybe your presence of mind was slipping already, causing you to read into things that weren't really there.

No...no, you decided as you hefted your bag, determined to put it all out of your head for now. Harry was just his usual aggravating self, trying to rile you by dangling some imagined reward or punishment to keep you on your toes before the big event. This whole...suggestive semiflirtation thing was just the product of your own exhausted mind playing tricks.  

Firmly shoving aside all unsettling thoughts, you focused on the immediate challenge awaiting tomorrow. You would plate Harry's showpiece dish to absolute perfection, prove yourself under the brightest lights, and decisively seize this career-making opportunity. 

Everything else could be dealt with later.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[caramel-maveeato]

𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡˚₊ 。。。 ᴋ. ᴀᴋᴀʙᴀɴᴇ ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ

❧❤ SYNOPSIS: What it’s like to date THE Akabane Karma…   ♡ Pairings/Love interest: Akabane Karma x GN!reader ♡ Genre: fluff, slight hurt/comfort ♡ TW: too much yapping, might be very OOC this is just my opinion ♡ Word count: 1.5k

Note: All characters originated from “Assassination Classroom” except for y/n.  All characters are 18 or older. English is not my first language!!! Sorry in advance if I make any grammar and vocabulary mistakes.

Oh god I love him

My bish. 

Been happily married to him for 8+ years so here's a fic to describe my experience (Delusion is my middle name.)

Akabane Karma has a very Akabane Karma way to love. 

Karma is rich and can afford fancy restaurant dates, but he prefers more casual dates: coffee date, study date, arcade, park, mall, concerts, outdoor movie, late night walks, throwing rocks on the rooftop of some dickhead’s houses he/you hate, going around causing troubles with you becoming his accidental accomplice, etc. He loves the light-heartedness and silliness of them.

(It’s lowkey romantic when you run away from security hand-in-hand.)

On nighttime dates, he’ll sneak you out during random midnights by climbing through your window (if you live with family) or barging through the front door just so you can go on an adventure with him.

No one’s stopping him, no one can stop him anyway. 

His love language is a mix of Quality Time, Act of Service, and Gift Giving. 

Quality Time: He likes being near you. Doesn’t matter if he was on his game console and you were on your phone scrolling through Tumblr or if you both are working like a dog on two different laptops, doesn’t matter. 

He doesn’t mind the comfortable silence as long as he can still feel your presence or see you. 

Daily contact is needed. Not that you have to chat 24/7, but enough communication (that’s the bare minimum). If you can’t see each other at all, he wants to at least text a bit or talk on the phone.

The feeling of closeness is comforting to him considering how he never really has it growing up.

Act of Service: As much as he subconsciously does little things for you like paying close attention to what you tell him and your body language, doing research on things you like, giving you his jacket when he notices you slightly shiver without you even asking him to, reminding you to eat (though his ass doesn’t eat regularly either), making you your favorite dishes—Karma secretly melts when you pays him the similar amount of attention. 

You don’t have to do allat, just be yourself and love him in your own way is enough to show him that you really care. 

Gift Givings: Karma spoils you to death (he’s rich af).

You stare at a bracelet for more than a few seconds at a mall? Boom he already got it nicely wrapped up while you go to the bathroom. You say a shirt is cute? Boom he’s taking his wallet out right now. You wonder whether you should get fruit smoothie or milkshake? Boom he’s paying for both. You woke up on a random Thursday morning? Boom there’s a silly, stupid looking plushie sitting on your bed with a small note, “It looks like you :P”

This is lowkey the way he’s been taught growing up—which his traveler parents would throw gifts and souvenirs at him once every blue moon they came home as a way to express that they ‘cared’.

But he isn’t like them. The gifts he buys you aren’t empty envelopes that’s called ‘love’ nor half-assed apologies for ignorance. These are just physical emphasis of what he feels for you, just something extra to add to the genuine love he already shows daily. 

Physical Affection: Karma is quite closed off and despite his effort to seem like a nonchalant, I-don’t-need-no-one lonewolf, he’s diagnosed with touch starvation.

But he has trust issues, plus that colossal reputation of a “cool guy” he has to maintain, he doesn’t like it when people become too physically comfortable with him. Or at least deep down he’s programmed himself to think that he doesn’t like being touchy-feely. 

(Which is the reason why bro’s always caught standing there like a sims character when Koro-sensei lovingly pats his head or Itona that one time too lol) 

Inwardly, he’s a bit flabbergasted to find out (be honest with himself) that he actually doesn’t mind receiving some physical love. From people he trusts and is close to only, of course. 

This explicitly includes his ✨romantic partner✨

Though despite the above belief of Karma being a touch-starved boy, I feel like he doesn’t show his true color until weeks or even months into the relationship. And still mildly bashful sometimes when he initiates the affection until completely get used to it, which can take 1-2 years or more.

I feel like he doesn’t mind PDA, but he doesn’t want to overdo it either. So usually Karma would just hold your hand, placing his hand on your waist or wrap an arm around your shoulders. 

But he’d show more than just the slight touches in cases where he wants to tease you or to shoo “competitors” away, or just… when he feels like it. 

Words of Affirmation: Words on the other hand isn’t something Karma will do much, he’s capable of doing so though. Compliments may be spilled once in a while, he’d rather keep them in his head. He loves you, but he’ll express it through actions instead of words because his huge ego doesn’t want to sound “overly sappy.” It’s just not his style. 

This makes his “I love you”s hit harder than they’re supposed to since he doesn’t say it often. 

As much as Karma cherishes his partner, he’s still a playful little shit.

He’ll poke fun at you and tease you just because. He does know when to stop and remembers certain boundaries not to cross, but still pisses you off sometimes because he.is.so.annoying. 

If something he said hits a sore spot for you, he’d try to throw his pride down the stairs and apologize almost instantly because hell, how could he hurt you?? On the other hand, if you’re just having enough of his relentless teasing, then no, he wouldn’t beg for your forgiveness. 

Instead, Karma would buy you some small gifts or favorite food, or crack a joke, anything to pull out even the slightest, littlest lift of your lips.

Then he’ll surprise you with a hug or a kiss, trapping you in his arms until the tension evaporates entirely. 

He’s hateable but lovable at the same time ugh

Jealousy Karma we need.

He’s outward and inwardly chill most of the time.

So it’s not like him to constantly be worked up and worried about your loyalty. He trusts you a lot, if he doesn’t you two wouldn’t be dating. He knows you aren’t gonna cheat on him or do anything behind his back.

But the jealousy can be caused by something outside of your relationship, like someone shows too much interest in you. But I feel like this can only apply when that person makes him feel threatened in terms of “perfection.” 

Karma doesn’t show it but his insecurities can still be triggered, he’s only human after all. So on the bad days he feels like his “love rival” is a bit too good and compatible with you, that’s where you can see a jealous version of your boyfriend. 

He’s gonna be more pissy and quiet, (or just sulky in general, even clingy), and he urgently needs the confirmation that you love him. So please don’t ignore the signs and show him just that. 

Being a rising bureaucrat is exhausting, but Karma wouldn’t let it affect the person he deeply treasures. 

We all know Karma doesn’t trust easily. So if he goes out of his way to confess and date you, he’s extraordinarily, horribly smitten. 

He grows up alone and neglected, most people in his life either hate him or respect him out of fear. So I don’t think he’s willing to let go of someone he finally, finally feels safe and loved with if the reason is simply stress/busyness. 

Time management is hard, of course. But if he wants to he would, and Karma wants to. 

It might be overwhelming at first, pressures from different aspects of life might kick both of you in the ass. You two probably would find yourselves arguing more than normal. But even if he’s tired and stubborn, Karma won't let you stay angry at each other overnight because his partner is so dear to him.

He’ll try to be at home every night, but omg Japan’s work culture… that can be impossible on some days due to overtime work. 

He’ll text you or call you during breaks, more callings on the nights he’s stuck at work—your voice is emotional support and keeps him going. If you fall asleep during FaceTime he’ll just keep the phone there and glancing at your sleeping face once in a while, lowkey feeling more comforted while going half batshit insane with paperworks. 

He’ll make it up to you afterwards.

So yeah, once you both get the hang of it it’ll be fine again. Busyness is just a dumb excuse for a relationship to fall apart, that means effort wasn’t being put in enough from both sides. Your relationship with Karma is far away from this.

I feel like when Karma finally finds someone to be openly affectionate with and the said person gives him the same amount of care, it’s healing his inner child too. (I cried)

Please love him I love him so much. 

A/N: It's almost 2025 and I'm still not over assclass I want them back so bad my class E babies :((

[p-seduonym]

The Little Light That Got Lost (Part 2.5)

A/N: Yall I am on a roll rn. I have been consistently writing and I am proud of that (is it quality writing idk?)Now this part is kinda an extension of part two, cause it's notes on the session. Just wanted to give some insight from Hoffman about Casey's situation. Again, give @cheust all the credit for making such a cool concept.

Psychotherapy Notes

Therapist Name: Johanna Hoffman Date: [REDACTED] Patient Initials: CW Age: 5

Presenting Concerns:Casey exhibits signs of emotional detachment and possible neglect. Expresses feelings of loneliness and exclusion within their family. Relies heavily on an imaginary companion, Yaya, for emotional support and stability. Displays fear of specific family members, particularly Jason, due to perceived anger and hostility.

Behavioral Observations:

Initially cheerful and engaged when discussing positive experiences (birthday, tea parties).

Notable shift in demeanor when discussing family relationships, becoming withdrawn and fidgeting.

Exhibits frustration when discussing feelings of being ignored or unimportant.

Avoids eye contact and lowers gaze when expressing emotional distress.

Expresses belief that no one likes them, reinforcing possible low self-worth.

Themes & Topics Discussed:

Birthday celebration and enjoyment of cake and gifts.

Tea parties and knowledge of tea etiquette.

Feelings of exclusion from family activities and relationships.

Fear of Jason’s anger and avoidance of Damian.

Deep attachment to Yaya as a consistent source of comfort.

Expressed belief that no one wants to spend time with them.

Frustration with family members being too busy or unavailable.

Interventions Used:

Play-based conversational approach to encourage self-expression.

Active listening and validation of emotions.

Gentle prompting to explore alternative sources of support within the family.

Encouragement of emotional identification and communication.

Child’s Response to Interventions:

Initially engaged and enthusiastic but became more withdrawn as emotional topics surfaced.

Expressed frustration and sadness when discussing family dynamics.

Responded positively to validation and gentle reassurance.

Hesitant to consider reaching out to family for support but open to the idea of talking to Dick.

Parent/Caregiver Involvement:

No direct caregiver involvement during this session. Future discussions with caregivers may be beneficial to address Casey’s emotional needs and perception of neglect.

Progress & Treatment Plan Updates:

Casey is beginning to articulate feelings of loneliness and exclusion but remains resistant to seeking support from family members.

Strong attachment to Yaya suggests a deeper emotional need that is not being met.

Continued focus on building trust and providing a safe space for expression is necessary.

Next Steps & Goals for Future Sessions:

Further explore Casey’s perception of family relationships and feelings of isolation.

Assess the role of Yaya in Casey’s emotional development and coping strategies.

Encourage gradual communication with trusted family members about emotions.

Introduce expressive therapy techniques to facilitate emotional processing.

Consider involving caregivers to address Casey’s emotional needs and validate their experiences.

Additional Notes: Casey exhibits signs of emotional neglect and low self-worth. Their reliance on Yaya may indicate an unmet need for emotional stability and support. Further exploration of family dynamics and possible caregiver engagement is recommended.

Therapist Signature:

Date: [REDACTED]

[hwastarxo]

Jongho x reader with ASD| fluff

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Jongho has been the sweetest boyfriend you could ever ask for, he’s so soft and understanding of your struggles, always acting to help you with them. When you first met his group members it was very chaotic, 8 men in one room, Wooyoung in general, it was loud to say the least, that paired with the bright lights in the practice room and the unfamiliar faces caused you to slowly get overwhelmed. He noticed you start to shut down, residing right next to him just pulling on your fingers, avoiding eye contact and trying to ignore the sound. He immediately has the members calm down, and always brings a pair of headphones for you, helping you block the noise of the outside world.

You aren’t even shocked anymore when you check the fridge and notice all your safe foods being restocked, he makes an effort to buy them for you, knowing you won’t eat much if they aren’t there. He even offers to help you with the cooking as he knows starting a task can be difficult for you as well, he’ll help you through those transitions, causing you to get more work done when you’re with him.

You aren’t the biggest fan of touch, easily overwhelmed by tight cuddles. He shows his love and intimacy in many other ways, acts of service like all the things he does for you on a daily basis, he loves parallel play where you do the silly things you enjoy, resting near him while he focuses on his gaming. Being near you in general causes peace to both of you.

You don’t typically understand sarcasm or social cues at all, he’s always there to explain the joke to you, or offer silent support when you can’t muster up anything to say. You won’t ever feel weird or too quiet when you’re around him, he constantly reminds you of all the good qualities you have as well. “Being quiet just makes you a better listener, not liking touch just makes you show you’re deeply loving in other ways, your hyperfixations just show how well you care about things you enjoy-“. He will go on and on, making sure you quit the self doubt and negative talk.

He is always down to hear your long explanations about your special interest, he will binge watch with you, read the long notes you make about characters, hear out your headcannons, and of course support you in buying those fandom trinkets you love. Your already over decorated room will be surely covered in all your interests when he’s done. He still makes sure you don’t get too caught up in these special interests though, if he notices you start to go hours not taking care of yourself, even missing sleep just to engage in the things you like. He’s there to remind you of your self care, giving gentle support to keep you upright.

He doesn’t always get it, the displeasure you have for things like certain textures, random foods, the way you pull on your hands constantly fidgeting, watching you play the same song multiple times, then proceed to repeat the lyrics whenever you hear a word that reminds you of it. He will constantly do research to make sure he can support you well, he even learns a few things about himself from doing so. You often feel guilty, thinking it’s hard work for him to handle you. He’s always reminding you how much he enjoys it, he does it out of pure love and wanting to be able to get closer to you properly. He finds all your little habits cuter than you ever think, when he hears you repeat that same phrase again he can’t help but giggle to himself. You’re just the sweetest thing to him.

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Note: I hope my writing properly depicted ASD and if you have any thoughts or recommendations it’s much appreciated! i based this off of myself and own experiences, however i’m not diagnosed and could have wrote these things in a way that doesn’t fit :(

i do hope u do feel represented by it n thanks for reading 🤍

[bl00dyfaiiry]

Yandere Serial Killer x GN!reader

tags: non-con, gore, blood, sadism, helpless reader, insane yandere, possible death, stabbing, knife, twisted mind, gore painting, psychopath yandere.

a/n: this is not really long but aside that enjoy reading

You had noticed him in class, the quiet one with the gentle smile and the way he always had his head bent over a sketchbook, his pencil moving in swift, sure stroke.

he was known for his art. It was something of a surprise when he approached you one day, asking if you'd like to come over to his apartment to see his latest project.

You had nodded, curious but slightly uncomfortable. Art was subjective, and you didn't want to hurt his feelings if you didn't get it.

The apartment was small but surprisingly well-kept, a stark contrast to the chaos of your own dorm room. His artwork adorned the walls, a mix of charcoal sketches and vibrant paintings that seemed to pulse with life.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you took in the crimson hues that dominated one corner of the room. He noticed your gaze and offered a proud smile, gesturing towards the pieces. "These are my latest creations," he said softly. "I've been experimenting with a new medium."

As you stepped closer, the unmistakable metallic scent of blood filled the air.

You swallowed hard, telling yourself it was just a clever use of paint, a trick of the light.

But when you examined the textures, the way the "paint" pooled and dribbled down the canvas, you couldn't ignore the truth.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you looked up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of madness.

He watched you intently, his gentle smile never wavering as he took in your reaction. "It's a bit... intense, isn't it?" he mused, his voice low and soothing.

"The human eye can't quite replicate the depth of color, the visceral quality of real blood. I find it... inspiring." You nodded, trying to keep the horror from showing on your face, trying to play it cool.

But then he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

"Would you like to be a part of my next masterpiece?" His hand closed around your wrist, and your heart stuttered. The room spun as he pulled you closer to the crimson canvases.

You tried to pull away, but his grip was like steel.

You looked around frantically for an escape, your eyes landing on a sharpened palette knife glinting on his desk.

He followed your gaze and chuckled darkly, "I knew you'd be special." With a swift movement, he grabbed the knife, his smile turning into a grin that sent chills down your spine.

"But not quite in the way you're thinking."

The panic bubbled up in your throat, but you swallowed it down, forcing a shaky laugh. "It's... really something," you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady.

His eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of fear or disgust, but you held his gaze, trying to convince him you were unfazed.

"You know, I've never actually painted with real blood before," you said, hoping to distract him. "It must be quite an experience." His grip on your wrist tightened, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Oh, it is," he breathed. "The way it flows, the way it dries... it's like capturing life itself."

He guided you to a chair in the center of the room, his touch cold and firm.

"You're going to be perfect," he whispered, his voice thick with excitement.

The realization of what was happening hit you like a ton of bricks, but your voice remained eerily calm.

"How do you get the blood?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation going while your mind raced for an escape plan.

His smile grew wider, his eyes darkening. "Ah, that's a trade secret," he said, his voice a serrated whisper. He reached out and traced a finger along the edge of a crimson smear, his eyes never leaving yours.

"But I can show you, if you'd like." Your stomach lurched, but you nodded, keeping up the act.

He stepped closer, the knife in his hand glinting in the soft light. "I usually find it on the street," he began, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. "But sometimes, I get to harvest it myself." The words sent a jolt of terror through your body, but you managed to keep your expression neutral.

"It's all about the connection, you see. The bond between artist and muse."

Your eyes flicked to the knife, then back to his face. He noticed your gaze and brought it closer to your skin, tracing the line of your neck with the cold steel.

You could feel your pulse pounding beneath the blade. "Don't worry," he assured you, his smile never wavering. "I'll be gentle."

The room grew hot and airless as he began to cut, not deep enough to be fatal, but deep enough to make you wince.

The pain was sharp, a stark contrast to the coldness of the metal. You bit your lip to keep from crying out, watching as drops of blood welled up and trickled down your skin, staining your clothes.

His eyes lit up with a twisted sort of pleasure as he caught the droplets on the tip of the knife, then brought it to the canvas. He painted with your blood, the crimson mixing with the other hues in a macabre dance of life and art.

You felt faint, the world swirling around you as he worked, but you forced yourself to stay present, to keep up the facade of interest and engagement.

You had to get out of here, had to find a way to escape before things went too far. The smell of your own blood was thick in the air, mingling with the chemical odor of his paints and the faint scent of his cologne. You tried to focus on the latter, anything to keep the panic at bay.

As the crimson streaks grew longer, his eyes grew more feverish, his breath coming in quick gasps. His grip on the knife tightened, and you knew you had to act now.

With a burst of adrenaline, you brought your knee up sharply, aiming for his groin. He grunted in surprise, his eyes flickering with pain, but his grip on you didn't loosen.

He leaned down, his mouth close to yours. "I don't think that's going to work," he whispered, his breath hot and sour.

He shoved the chair back and you stumbled to the floor, your vision blurring.

He was on top of you in an instant, his weight crushing, the knife forgotten. His hands were everywhere, tearing at your clothes, his touch cold and unyielding.

You fought back with all your strength, your nails scratching at his face, but it was like fighting a monster in a nightmare, his body unyielding and relentless.

The fabric of your shirt gave way, and you felt the cool air of the room kiss your exposed skin, sending a fresh wave of panic through your veins.

He pinned your arms above your head, his eyes alight with a sickening hunger. You screamed, a raw sound that seemed to echo off the walls, but his mouth was on yours, muffling the sound, his tongue invading your mouth like a serpent tasting its prey.

His hands moved down your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You struggled beneath him, your muscles straining against his iron grip.

His weight was unyielding, a crushing force that stole your breath. The world outside the apartment was a distant memory, a muffled existence that you were desperately trying to reach.

You felt his hands on your skin, his breath hot and ragged against your neck, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

As he pushed into you, you gritted your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut, willing the pain away. But it was inescapable, a searing agony that seemed to split you in two.

You could feel every inch of him, a violation that went beyond the physical, invading your very soul. Your body trembled and arched, trying to find some semblance of comfort, some way to resist the horror of what was happening.

But then, unable to contain it any longer, a scream ripped from your throat. It was a raw, primal sound, filled with all the fear and rage and despair that had been building inside you.

He stiffened above you, his eyes widening in surprise before narrowing into a look of irritation. He leaned back, raising the knife, and with a swift, practiced motion, he stabbed it into the soft flesh of your shoulder.

The pain was blinding, a white-hot fire that consumed you. The room spun, the colors running together like a Jackson Pollock painting.

You felt the warmth of your blood spreading across the fabric of your shirt, seeping into the floorboards beneath you.

The world grew dark around the edges, the edges of your vision closing in like the pages of a book slamming shut.

Then, there was a soft laugh, a sound so incongruent with the horror that it almost seemed like a hallucination. His breath was hot against your cheek, and his voice was a whisper.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "I didn't mean to make it hurt so much." The words were a knife twisting in your gut, a mockery of compassion from the monster on top of you.

You felt the warmth of your own blood soaking through the fabric of your shirt, and the pain from the knife wound in your shoulder was a pulsing reminder of your plight.

Yet, amidst the agony, something inside you refused to give in. A spark of defiance flared up, pushing back the tides of fear.

then you black out and never see the light again.

[lightupthemoon]

Maroon

Summary: You wished it could have lasted an eternity, and that made you ignore the signs. You knew it that night, when

she kissed you for the first time, and you knew it every night she looked into your eyes and told

you her deepest, darkest secrets. You knew you represented everything she had never wanted.

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Warnings: None, this is just angst.

Word Count: 4 K

Read on AO3

Author’s Note:

*tap tap* is this thing on? Well, hello! It's been a long, long time! Honestly, writer's block is a real thing, especially when you have two jobs and not enough time to daydream. Regardless, I made a promise to my friend @ittynyte, who made the awesome art for this, that I would write this for her birthday. It took me a year, but I delivered. Better late than never, right? I hope you enjoy it!

The light slipping through the curtains seemed rather blinding that morning. Perhaps it was the building headache that drilled through your brain. Maybe the ache that made itself present in your chest with every breath you took. You groaned, hating it.

You dragged yourself out of bed, the opposite side as empty as it had been the last couple of weeks. You tried not to look at it. You still couldn’t get used to the emptiness, even with time passing by.

Your freshly made black coffee alleviated the headache, but the deafening silence of your apartment only made you travel to simpler times. Your gaze fell into the wine-stained carpet that you had neglected to throw out and the incense marks left on the dark wood of your coffee table.

Even if you didn’t intend to, you could still picture it as clearly as it had happened yesterday.

“Okay, weirdos, I’m retiring to bed,” Cassie proclaimed, getting up from the couch despite the growing protests coming from the floor, where you and Kate sat. She had her back against the opposite loveseat, your feet on her lap while you used the cushions as pillows on the floor, both tipsy.

“Cass, it’s only–” Kate started, lifting her wrist to her face to see the hour, squinting her eyes. “Oh, crap. It’s 4 a.m.”

“Exactly.” Cassie retorted, grabbing her phone and her blanket from the couch she was on. “Some of us actually do want to sleep, okay?”

“Party pooper.” You said, matter-of-factly. Cassie only rolled her eyes, throwing a kiss in your direction.

“Don’t finish my wine!”

You and Kate made a similar sound in response, before looking at each other and exploding into giggles.

It wasn’t often that you spent time with Kate. Between your jobs, school, and her multiple sports practices, it was hard to hang out. And it was a shame, really, because you did enjoy Kate’s company. She was funny, and not bad to look at. She was brilliant, too, but not in a way that made you feel less than. No, her brilliance was something that not a lot of people gave her credit for. It was in the way she spoke so eloquently about the things she was passionate about. Like in that moment, starting a rant on why vinyl records were a much better way to capture audio than any other. You could have listened to her forever, go on about how listening to records was an immersive physical experience that simply could never be replicated. Almost like that moment, too.

“Simply the quality of the audio should be enough to choose vinyl!” Kate continued saying.  

“Streaming is more convenient, though,” you replied with a mischievous grin. “I can only press play on a silly little app on my phone and listen.”

Kate rolled her eyes, the tiniest of smiles drawn on her lips, pushing your feet off her lap to get up. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Where do you think you are going?” You asked, faking offense. “See? You can’t even defend your argument.”

“Shut up, I’m getting more wine,” Kate said, picking up your glass from the coffee table.

The bottle of red wine that Cassie left opened on the counter was already half-empty, and it wasn’t your first. You watched as Kate poured the wine into the glasses, a curl of long black hair falling into her perfectly sculptured face as she did so. You allowed yourself this momentary silence to admire her, from the curve of her nose to the shape of her lips. You never wonder why half the world seemed to be enthralled in that woman—you had experienced it firsthand, every time she was around. The light in her smile was enough to leave anyone breathless. However, you were aware that Kate Bishop was not the kind of person who would ever find it within herself to settle down. If anything, adrenaline was her lover, and danger was her spouse. Anything that kept her away from those things was merely a distraction.

You never let yourself daydream about her. But you would occasionally indulge in her beauty.

“I can prove it to you,” you heard Kate say as she returned to the living room, placing both glasses on the coffee table. She walked toward the TV stand, where Cassie kept all of her records, which had originally prompted the conversation. She kneeled in front of them, lightly brushing the spine of the covers as she lowly murmured the names on them to herself. After a little while, a small ‘aha’ escaped Kate’s lips, pulling a record.

“Katherine,” you called her in a whisper-yell. “Cassie literally just went to sleep.”

Kate scoffed, not even bothering to look your way as she pulled the record from its case and placed it as carefully as possible on the record player. “Please, she’s probably knocked out by now. She won’t hear us.”

You shook your head in disapproval, reaching for your wine glass, with a faint smile dancing on your lips. The soft sound of a male voice, accompanied by a soft bassline and high hats in the background started filling the room. You watched Kate smile satisfied as you took a sip of your wine, the dryness reminding you why you actually preferred the cheap rosé Cassie liked. She hummed along to the music, swaying side to side a bit as she walked toward you.

“Do you hear that? How clear every instrument is?” Kate said with a grin. “You can’t tell me you get that from Apple Music.”

“Who do you think I am?” You replied, the laugh present in your voice. “I use Spotify, doofus.”

“Even worse.” Kate sighed, grabbing her wine and extending her free hand in your direction.

You arched your eyebrows, skeptical. “Hello to you too?”

The brunette rolled her eyes, but her hand never faltered. “Dance with me.”

The question took you by surprise, but not more than your own hand moving forward to take hers without even thinking about it. She pulled you off the couch, spilling a bit of wine onto the carpet. You would have winced at it on any other occasion, but you had no mental capacity for anything other than Kate. She flushed your body to hers, her hand leaving yours to rest on your waist, yours finding its way to her shoulder while the swaying continued.  

“How is dancing going to prove your point?” You managed to say, thankful your voice didn’t register the sudden anxiety that started filling your body.

Kate shrugged, sipping at her wine. The glint in her eyes made them seem even bluer, an endless sea full of wonder. “It just felt like a good idea.”

A huff escaped you, unable to stop the smile on your lips because, of course, Kate would say that. You heard her start humming the song again, her head moving slightly side to side in the same motion the both of you did. There was something in the air, unspoken, lingering, and you were far too nervous to speak. You weren’t sure you would have been able to if you tried. The smile didn’t leave your lips, and she never took her eyes off yours.

A good minute into the song, she looked at you with an arched brow, mischief written all over her face. “Do you feel it yet?”

“What?”

“The music in your veins.”

You rolled your eyes, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t feeling… something. She didn’t have to know that, though. “It feels the same to me.”

Fond exasperation exuded from Kate, pressing her forehead to your shoulder in what was seemingly a move of defeat. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t do this to me.” For some reason, your heart fluttered at the sound of your name. “It’s like–” Kate started, pulling back to look at you again. “It’s like when you kiss someone you have been wanting to kiss for a long time. Everything feels like there’s a show of fireworks exploding inside you.” You saw the question in her gaze as she brought her glass up to her lips. “Do you know that feeling?”

You scrunched up your nose. “Honestly?” You shook your head, looking at the floor. “I don’t think anyone has ever made me feel like that.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, her movements so fast that the glass of wine she held in her hands slipped, just enough to get some of it on your shirt. You gasped at the cold liquid sticking your shirt to your skin, while Kate cursed under her breath, moving her glass as far away from you as she could.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed. “I was just not expecting that. Lemme just—”

Kate hurriedly grabbed the glass from your hands, and placed both cups back on the table, before attempting to head back into the kitchen to get something to clean you up. Nevertheless, you grabbed her hand at the last minute, already missing the heat of her body next to yours. She looked back at you, confused.

“The song isn’t over, Bishop.”

The faintest shade of surprise shadowed her features, but she returned to where she had previously been, her hands firmly holding your waist. You weren’t entirely sure if the goosebumps you felt were caused by her firm grip, or the cold liquid still rolling down your skin. But somewhere deep within you, you knew you would hate yourself forever if you broke the moment. If you left whatever this was slip through your fingers.

Absentmindedly, you wrapped your arms around her neck, and that seemed to bring Kate out of whichever trance she was in.

“That is a nice shirt I just ruined,” Kate muttered, still looking apologetic, and unable to contain the scarlet creeping across her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

“What, this old thing?” You said, resting its importance. “I was going to throw it out soon, anyways.” A smirk appeared on your face. “Besides, I’ll say it was well worth it to see the almighty Katherine Elizabeth Bishop blushing up a storm.”

Kate shook her head in disapproval, the confidence returning to sapphire blue. “Yes, well, in my defense, it was half your fault. How are you going to reveal something like that and expect me not to react?”

“I honestly don’t see what’s the big deal.”

“It’s just–” Kate sighed. “The type of thing everyone should experience at least once.”

The air felt thicker, for some reason. “Explain it to me, then. How does that feel?”

 “Well,” she started, her voice now softer. “The moment right before it, there’s something in the air. Almost tangible, like electricity.” You didn’t miss the glint in her eyes, nor the glance she gave at your lips before licking her own. “You become very aware of your surroundings, of the feeling of warmth around you.”  You were not sure if you were just imagining things, but the gap between you just seemed smaller. “And your skin tingles, wondering if it is everything you’ve always thought it’d be.”

You didn’t know why, but you closed your eyes. You never let yourself daydream about her, but it would be a lie to say you said you never wondered what it would be like to kiss her. “And then what happens?”

“Fireworks.”

You hated to admit it, but she was right. After Kate pressed her soft lips against your own, the fireworks appeared. You couldn’t even describe how you felt after that night, but you were sure your life had been turned upside down.

You tried to play it off as a drunken spur-of-the-moment at first. Getting drunk and making out with your friends was part of the college experience, after all. Nevertheless, that kiss was the first of many to follow, all of them in secret, each hungrier than the one before. Kate Bishop became a constant in your life after that night, as if she was on a mission to help you find that spark you had been missing. And you found it, time and time again, in urgent kisses and impatient brushes of skin. On marks left in your collarbones; in the sound of your name escaping her mouth when you touched her where she needed you most. She was your drug, and you were at her mercy.

You wished it could have lasted an eternity, and that made you ignore the signs. Despite spending almost every night in your bed, it was rare for you to see her outside the four walls of your apartment. Despite knowing the sounds she made when she reached the highest point of ecstasy, you had never held her hand in public. And despite all your friends knowing about your arrangement, she never dared to bring it up to any of them. What you had existed in the shadows, far away from everyone’s reach.

Even your own. 

Your phone chimed on the counter, a steady stream of messages appearing on the screen. Exhaling heavily, you picked it up, finally opening the thread you had been ignoring for a few days. Your friend group chat kept going off, probably for the finishing touches of the farewell party they were throwing over the weekend. Cassie, America, and Kate were heading west, leaving their entire lives behind to follow their dreams. They had even asked Peter to go with them, to make it a bit easier to start a new life surrounded by friends. The boy, however, had decided to stay home in New York, saying how he couldn’t even imagine his life without MJ with no hint of hesitation in his voice. As happy as you were for your friend, you couldn’t say that it didn’t hurt that Kate couldn’t even look at you when he said that.

Now, you weren’t naïve, you always knew where this was headed. You knew it that night, when she kissed you for the first time, and you knew it every night she looked into your eyes and told you her deepest, darkest secrets. You knew you represented everything she had never wanted. Even if, at times, it seemed like what you had could be something she wanted, she had a plan that she wouldn’t let go of. Kate Bishop would never give up a life of adrenaline and danger for a quiet life with you.

Despite knowing that, it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

It hurt when she told you she was leaving. It hurt when she never asked you to go with her. It hurt that she wanted to keep you until she was no longer there.

Your phone chimed again, vibrating in your hand and snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked down at the screen just in time to see your name appear in the chat.

Cassie – Y/N, are you coming to the party?

America – Of course she’s coming. She’s not letting us go before saying goodbye.

America – Right, bestie?

Peter – Yeah, Y/N, it will be so much fun! We can bully them for leaving us behind!

You sighed, your fingers hovering on the screen as you thought of a reply. As far as they were concerned, not showing up to their party would have been the highest of treasons. They were your best friends in the world, how could you possibly miss it? But if you were honest with yourself, you were not up to it, especially knowing Kate would be there. You had successfully avoided her since calling off the agreement and you had no intention of seeing her before she left.

If she wanted to pretend it had meant nothing, you could do that too.

You – Sorry, guys, working ☹ But have fun, and swing by before leaving! <3

You rolled your eyes as you added a kissy emoji at the end but sent the text anyway. It was immediately seen by three out of the six people in the group, followed by a new stream of reactions and replies that you didn’t have the willpower to pay attention to. You turned on ‘do not disturb’ and placed the phone face down on the counter, before heading into the living room to find a distraction on TV.

---

After many hours of watching several episodes of your comfort show, a loud knock on the front door startled you. You stared at the door with narrowed eyes for a moment, unsure if it had really happened or if you had just imagined the sound. As much as Cassie and America loved you, they had been so wrapped up in their move you could not imagine they would show up at your door, despite your earlier text. Another knock followed, more impatient this time.

“Coming!” You yelled, throwing the blanket off your body and getting up from the couch with a groan.

Whoever was behind the door didn’t insist, giving you enough time to pick up some food wrappers off the coffee table and throwing them in the trash. After running your fingers through your hair in an attempt to make it look better than it did from a whole day of lounging in the living room, you pulled the door open, your heart dropping to the floor the moment you saw who was disturbing your peace.

Kate Bishop, in the flesh, blue eyes shinier than ever.

You contained the desire to slam the door in her face. You just wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

You rolled your lips, standing as tall as your frame allowed you, your chin slightly tipped upward.

“What are you doing here?”

Kate gave you one of her characteristic smirks, shrugging nonchalantly as if this was just another casual meeting. It infuriated you.

“You said to swing by before leaving, so…” She dragged the final ‘o’, her voice causing a disturbance within you that you weren’t sure how to describe.

You rolled your eyes. “That wasn’t meant for you, so!” You exclaimed, attempting to close the front door before she stopped it with her foot.

“Come on, Y/N, I just want to talk.” Kate replied, her voice now sounding more serious. “I brought a peace offering.”

Reluctantly, you flung the door open again, setting your gaze on the bouquet of flowers she was holding, pressed to her classic purple sweatshirt. Her smirk turned into a dashing smile, and you hated your heart for reacting at the mere sight of her.

“You said they were your favorite.”

You couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped you.

“Those are carnations,” you said, the tone of disbelief apparent in your voice.

Kate furrowed her eyebrows, bewildered. “They are not. They are roses.”

You rolled your eyes, walking back inside your apartment. Maybe it was immature to hate that she couldn’t remember your favorite flowers, but you did. At this point, you hated Kate Bishop as much as you loved her.

That is what hurt the most.

“Y/N, wait!” Kate exclaimed, closing the door behind her as she followed you. You felt the warmth of her skin through the fabric of your shirt as she reached for you, her touch as electrifying as when you danced in that very living room.

“Why did you come?” The words escaped your lips without intention.

“I told you,” Kate replied. “I just want to talk.”

“But why?” You dropped your hands to your side, the bitterness now seeping into your voice. “Why can’t you just go and leave me alone?”

“Because we–”

“No, Kate, there is no ‘we.’ You don’t want me. Stop stringing me along.”

Kate put down the flowers on the coffee table, her eyes dimming. “That is not true.”

“What’s not true?” You retorted, exasperated. 

“That I don’t want you.”

You scoffed. “Oh, please, stop lying. You are leaving, Kate, not me!”

“I know, Y/N, okay? I know!” Kate sounded just as exasperated as you were. She covered her face with her palms, sighing as heavily as the words resounded across the room. “I know I hurt you and I will regret it forever.” She furiously wiped a tear from her cheek, as if she did not want you to see her like that. “It just doesn’t mean I don’t want you. I just wish I didn’t.”

The words rang in your ears, like a drum to the beat of your heart. What did it matter now? She would still leave. “Kate, just go. I don’t want to do this.”

“Listen to me.”

She walked into your space, her palms finding your waist. Your body reacted to her touch naturally, your fist falling on the top of her chest without meaning to.

“Stop...” You pleaded. She closed the gap between you, the tip of her nose almost touching yours.

“I want you so bad these last few days without you have been a torture. I wish I didn’t want you because then...” She hesitated for a second, her voice stuck in her throat. “It wouldn’t be so hard to leave.”

You wanted to hate her. You wanted to break free from her grip, move on from everything she made you feel. But you were powerless. Your body wasn’t your own. It was only an extension of the rage and sorrow and love coursing through your veins. Without thinking about it, you grabbed her cheeks, making those watery sapphire eyes glance back at you.

“Why are you so set on leaving?” You inquired, genuinely. “You don’t have to. You can stay and be everything you want to be here—with me.”

Kate pressed her cheek to your palm, closing her eyes as she shook her head. It was only then that you felt it. The way her pain mirrored yours. Two different sides of the same coin.

“I can’t,” she simply said, making it clear there was no room for question.

The decision had been made and nothing you said would change it.

Silence overcame you both, a far cry from that night full of laughter and drunken haziness that started everything. It wasn’t often that you dared to question how things have gotten this way, but in that moment, wrapped in the quiet and sorrow and everything this woman made you feel, it was inevitable. You wanted to encapsule the last few months in a snow globe, a safe keep for these memories that would haunt you for as long as you lived.

Kate pressed her forehead to yours, the tips of your noses brushing slightly. You could feel her breath on your lips, the essence of her empowering you.

“Y/N, I want you. I couldn’t leave without making sure you knew that.”

Your lips were trapped in hers before you could even have a chance to think. Your mouth molded perfectly with hers, your arms wrapping around her neck in a simple notion. As much as your brain was screaming at you to not get lost in her, this would be all you would have left. Once she left, the memory of the taste of her lips was all you could cling to. And it was as natural as breathing, following the pace she was setting. Perhaps it was foolish, and it went against everything you had said, but that was all you needed then. For a moment, everything else disappeared.

As all things do, the kiss died down slowly. You pulled away reluctantly under Kate’s expectant gaze. You exhaled deeply, trying to retain the last thread of sanity left in your body. You let go of her, feeling the weight of reality upon your shoulder all of a sudden. You closed your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Y/N...” Kate whispered, carefully, and the sound of her voice popped the bubble.

You took a step back, pulling her away from you. “Kate,” you said. “You need to go.”

You didn’t dare to open your eyes to watch her go. You had done it once, when she told you for the first time that she would be leaving. You had no interest in doing so again. You heard the fading steps, the opening and closing of a door. You heard the rumbling in your chest, and you felt the shaking of your shoulders as pain finally overcame you.

You had lost her.

And there was no turning back.

[sunflowerandstrawberryspice]

CARMEN SANDIEGO? In 2024? It's more likely thank you think! Please excuse the shit quality for some reason I wasn't allowed to upload the normal pdf and I had to upload a fucking screenshot???

So my friend convinced me to watch Carmen Sandiego and since he's watching ALL of Ninjago for me I thought it was the least I could do to watch four season of a show with a pretty decent concept but uh... yeesh, don't get me wrong the show is really fun but lord have mercy does it have problems especially the last two seasons which were just so wildly disappointing to me. It went from a show with an interesting look on morals to pure pro-cop and mostly black and white thinking so quick (that not mentioning the breaking up a found family full of people with abandonment issues) it was honestly just so disappointing so me and the friend who introduced it to me decided to rewrite it! (I will not be animating nor do I plan on doing more than MAYBE a comic or art piece here and there because my chronic pain ridden ass can not handle that much lol)

The main goals are to:

1) Flesh out characters that aren't Carmen and actually give them reactions based on their lived experiences and how they might realistically react instead of what the show needed to move the plot along

2) Having characters other than Carmen be actually relevant to the plot the main one being Chase Devineaux who we're gonna kind of have as a parallel to Carmen (trust me yall) as kind of a "What if Carmen didn't have her friends/family to ground her and fall back on" but for all the Chase fans out there (gods I hope there's some other than me) he will be getting a happy ending but bro is getting put through the RINGER first

3) Have both A.C.M.E (now standing for Administration for Containing and Monitoring Evil) and V.I.L.E be the bad guys. Also just as an extra bit of fun we're making VILE a full blown cult, they were very cult like in the show so we're just gonna make it one. Both are going to be very morally questionable and while it'll take a bit longer for ACME to show it's true colors don't you worry they definitely will ;)

4) We're doing canonical lgbtq+ rep, I know the show teased a lot of relationships and really only gave yall background gays not to say thats bad but we can do better than just a brief shot of a damn taco truck. I mean like come on in a story about a young woman going against the government for the greater good why not put some rep into it ya know!

5) We're making it light sci-fi, not like SUPER high tech but definitely beyond what we've got currently, as shown with Carmen's prosthetic, and don't worry I'm doing my research as a disabled person I know how it feels to be misrepresented or ignored so I want to make sure I'm being realistic

6) PLAYER ISN'T GOING TO BE A CHILD! I don't know if this bothered anybody else but to me it was really weird that this 16 year old's only friends were in their 20s!

Alright I think that's what I'm gonna say for now, I'd love it if yall tuned in for updates if your curious since this is a passion project for me and my friend and we're having a blast writing it!

As always I am still working on stuff for Ninjago cause I could never abandon my one true love, currently there's a Pixal drawing in progress (it's giving me hell T-T) something for Cole and Geo, and something of Sora MAYBE even Euphrasia if I'm feeling up to it.

Having said that I hope yall have a great day/night and PEACE OUT!

[goodlucksnez]

So after listening to Zen's Wav, I had a idea to continue. So I gathered some friends and we continued the story with a little nod to @instarsandcrime as well!

So enjoy the continuation!

Al//astor: @onetrickponi

Lu//cifer: @zensations35

V//ox: @goodlucksnez

See below for script!

Alastor: Ah! The man of the hour! Just the person I was hoping to encounter…Now then. Time for a little r̴̈e̷͋g̵͛i̷͊c̷̉ǐ̵d̷̃ë̴́

Lucifer: Oh no…*sneeze* Not you again. What is it this time?

Alastor:  As it turns out, sire, not only do you bestow hellish grace upon your subjects, but pestilence as well! ’Allergies.’ Hah! I should have known. 

Lucifer: Well if someone hadn’t insisted I come on their show with only two days notice!

Alastor: Aha-hA!  If someone would answer their phone more than once a month, your nibs–

*Lucifer sneezes*

Alastor: Well. Glad to see your smoky sternutations aren’t exclusive to my studio, at least. Goodness, I do hope this wallpaper is flame-resistant.*ṣ̶͐n̸̺͐ḙ̸̽e̸̲͂z̸̩͋i̷̠͐n̴̨̊g̸̩̿* Pardon.

Lucifer: Hey! Don’t bust out my lights! I’m working on an important project!

Alastor: And now no one has to see it! Pity. :)

*Voxtech Show Theme Plays*

Vox: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most electrifying news show in the multiverse! I’m your host, Vox,  and I’m here to deliver the latest headlines with a dash of charisma, a sprinkle of wit, and a whole lot of tea *clinking cup* *cup falls* 

Vox: *ignoring fallen cup* Tonight on our program we will go over the most recent broadcast from the King of Hell and the less important interviewer *cackle*

Vox: Ahh how good it feels in my studio! I must say our brand is perfection, it just won't do for anything Less. Than. That. *snigger*  

Vox: Unlike a certain old tyrant my studio is made for the highest of royalty. So if any princes or kings want a real experience, come down to Vees tower and I would love to give you a personalized tour from the Man in Charge. 

Alastor: *sneezing* Pompous, vicious little prick…

Lucifer: Ugh.. *sniff* I hate that guy…”Man in Charge”? And they call me prideful??

Vox: I mean really you just walk in, and it’s chaos. Papers everywhere, coffee stains on the desk, *laugh* it isn't even in a proper studio but an old water tower! Talk about tacky. Unprofessional, if you ask me. But here? Every cable is tucked away, every surface polished--

[Vox continues his spiel while Alastor sneezes]

Alastor: *sneezing* 

Vox:-- to a mirror sheen. We believe in excellence, not just in our content but in our environment, that that is what VoxTex is here to provide you. So, when you tune in to our show, rest assured, you’re getting the crème de la crème. Quality, class, and cleanliness–

Alastor: That isn’t even properly alliterative…

Lucifer: Are you kidding me? His place is a walking fire hazard! Or, not walking. Standing? But I know fire hazards! Man, I wish I could just…*sneezes*

Alastor: HaHAh!…Well, then I’m sure you will appreciate this next bit, Sire.

Vox: *sniffling* *sneezing* I must apologize, my dear viewers *sneezing*  but it seems that even the most prepared among us can be caught off guard. It appears I’m having a bit of a g̶͎͑-̵̓ͅg̵̪̑-̷̖͠G̴̥͒L̶̟̈I̷͈͑T̵̀͜C̸̣͝H̸̖͒—nothing serious, but we believe in safety first here at Vox industries.

*Vox continues sneezing throughout his spiel*

Vox: We’re all about transparency and this is as real as it gets. Fucking bitch! I’m going to step off for a moment to take care of this, and in the meantime, we’ll be ending today’s broadcast a tad earlier than scheduled. FuckI’mgonnafuckingkillhim--Our team is top-notch, and they’ll ensure everything is handled with the utmost professionalism. Thank you for your understanding. We’ll be back on air tomorrow, bright and shiny as ever, ready to bring you the stellar content you love. 

Vox: Cut it! That fucking bitch, I know this is his doing I’m gonna kill him!!

Alastor: *sneezing* *laughing* 

Lucifer: Hoh yeah! Highfive!

Alastor: I beg your pardon?

Lucifer: You…you just take your hand and…uhh…*high five sound*

Alastor: Mmm I suppose. But don’t make a habit out of this, sire.

Lucifer: Eheh…okay…

[vermilionsun]

(Feel free to ignore this request if you’re not comfortable writing it)

may I ask for some headcannons for Ais and Vere (separately please) whose s/o suffers from depression? Thank you 💙

Sure thing! Disclaimer! They/them for s/o because we love inclusivity!

TW! Depression (obvi) I tried to make the headcanons as general and "light" as possible, since everyone experiences depression differently

If anyone wants more angst or heavier/darker themes, send a req

And always remember; Seeking help is a sign of strength, not weakness.

Vere

✦ Unlike with most things, Vere isn’t here to play around. Due to his apathetic exterior and ribald attitude, most people tend to underestimate his ability to care about anyone other than himself, yet that's far from the truth. In reality, Vere is fiercely loyal to those he cares about and will go to great lengths to protect them, even if it means putting himself in harm's way a̶n̶d̶ r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ i̶n̶t̶o̶ t̶h̶e̶ S̶e̶n̶o̶b̶i̶u̶m̶'s̶ c̶o̶l̶l̶a̶r̶.

✦ He is there, okay? Even if he has to remind his beloved every other minute, he will.

✦ He will become their biggest supporter and advocate, their cheerleader in times of need, the person who will always be there to lift them up when they are feeling down.

✦ He is there to listen, to offer aid, and to provide a comforting presence and a fluffy tail during difficult times.

✦ Encourages them to seek a professional therapist or psychiatrist if needed and haven't already received such help. He will find the best resources and support available in all of Eridia. Plus, he offers to accompany them to their appointments.

✦ If he feels something's wrong with his s/o while other people are around, he will find a discreet way to ask them if they are okay or need to talk later in private. His s/o's well-being is his top priority.

✦ In addition, he always makes sure to check in with his s/o regularly to see how they are feeling. This includes visiting during work hours, bringing them their favorite snacks, and being available to listen whenever they need to talk—even if he has to sneak away.

✦ He'd get meals for his s/o when they are feeling down or stressed, run errands, or simply spend quality time together.

✦ He believes in showing his love and support through actions, not just words, and that small gestures of love can make a big difference. He always goes the extra mile through various small gestures or grand displays of affection—a surprise date night, a gift, a sketch of them, a handwritten love letter.

✦ Of course, if his s/o feels overwhelmed, he will respect their space and give them the time they need to themselves.

Ais

✩ He will prioritize his s/o’s well-being and make sure they know they are not alone in their struggles.

✩ He isn’t the type to push his s/o to talk about their feelings, but he’s there to will offer a listening ear without judgment, a shoulder to cry on, and a comforting hug when needed.

✩ This man is the  E P I T O M E  of patience.

✩ He will encourage his s/o to go outside, and find excuses to take them out with him.

✩ Otherwise, if they were staying home for extended periods of time, he’d make sure to distract them with activities they enjoy.

✩ Did I mention he's the word "comfort" personified?

✩ If there are other people around, he'd keep an eye on them and see how they're feeling. If he notices that they're getting overwhelmed or uncomfortable, he'll get them alone or somewhere less busy.

✩ He'd be more protective, a̶s̶ i̶f̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶'s̶ p̶o̶s̶s̶i̶b̶l̶e̶, making sure they have everything they need and checking in on their well-being.

✩ He'd encourage them to look for a therapist or counselor who specializes in depression to help them better understand and cope with it. He'd be there every step of the way.

✩ He'd always remind them that it's okay to not be okay sometimes, that they are not alone in their struggles, and that he will always be there to support them through all of it; there to listen, there to support, and there to love them.

[queenshelby]

The Law Student (Rewritten)

Part Nine: Blackout

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (20) & Reader (30)

Note: This plays in 1996, just before Cillian drops out of law school.

Friday came around quickly, and you couldn't help but feel tense throughout the day. You tried to shake off your nerves, telling yourself that this was just one date, nothing more, but you couldn't ignore the flutter in your chest.

After your last class of the day, you went home and took extra care preparing yourself for the evening and even though this was no more than dinner and a movie at your own house, you wanted to make an effort.

You chose a simple black cotton dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, and your hair rested loosely on your shoulders.

Your makeup was subtle yet elegant, drawing attention to your eyes and your lips shone with a hint of red gloss.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, your thoughts turned to Cillian and you wondered if he was as nervous as you were.

Your mind began to wander as you thought about the potential outcome of this date. Would it just be a simple dinner and movie, or would it lead to something more? After all, you had slept with each other before, crossing the professional line, which was what, in the end, had led to this mess and confusion now. 

The sex was surprisingly good, even though he was young and probably lacked experience.  He was attentive and eager to please, and there was something incredibly attractive about his youthful enthusiasm.

After that night, you tried your best to avoid him, both at work and outside of it. You knew that what had happened between you two was a mistake, but it was hard to forget that one explosive encounter. Now, as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't help but feel a stirring of desire deep in your core.

You shook your head, trying to ward off the thoughts of Cillian that threatened to consume you.  It was just one date, you told yourself. One date to clear the air, to establish some boundaries. That's all this was and there was no way that you could possibly cross that boundary again. 

At around 6 o'clock, your doorbell rang, breaking you out of your reverie. You took a deep breath and made your way to the door. Cillian stood there, wearing a fitted navy blue shirt that emphasized his toned physique, with his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans. His eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation as you opened the door.

"Wow, you look incredible Miss Y/LN," he breathed, his deep blue eyes sweeping over you in appreciation.

Despite yourself, you blushed at the sincerity in his voice. "Thank you, Cillian," you murmured, stepping aside to let him in.

He picked up two bags of groceries which he had momentarily placed on to the floor and, as he passed you, you caught a whiff of his cologne -- a musky, woodsy scent that sent a shiver down your spine. You closed the door behind him, and when you turned around, he was standing in the middle of your kitchen, placing the bags on the counter. He looked around curiously, taking in the familiar surroundings of your home.

"Nice place," he said and the softness in his voice caught you off guard, made your pulse quicken.

"You have been here before," you chuckled , trying to keep things light-hearted and casual.

"Well, that time, I didn't really notice because I was too distracted by you," he replied with a smirk, his deep blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

You tried not to get drawn in by his charisma, but it was hard to resist. He was charming and unapologetically confident - two qualities that you found incredibly attractive.

"What's for dinner?" you asked, eager to change the subject and diffuse the tension that was building between you two.

"Uhm, spaghetti I think,"  he replied, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment before he turned his attention back to the groceries. 

"You think?" you chuckled , raising an eyebrow at him. "Well, I hope you know what you're doing. I'm quite hungry," you eased. 

Cillian looked up at you, his deep blue eyes meeting your gaze. "Don't worry, Miss Y/LN. I've got this covered," he said, a hint of a challenge in his voice that made your heart race.

"You really need to call me Y/N while we are here, on our own,"  you reminded him, your voice a little softer than usual.

"Sure thing, Y/N," he said, his eyes gleaming at the sound of your name.

You watched as he removed the ingredients from the bag, setting out the pasta, tomatoes, onions, garlic and spices on the countertop. His movements were intentional and fluid, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation as you imagined him touching you the same way.

Cillian glanced over at you and caught you staring. "You know, I actually never cooked for anyone before, I hope I don't mess it up." Cillian's voice broke through your thoughts, making you snap back to reality.

"I am here to help, you know,"  you said, as you made your way over to the kitchen island, taking a seat on one of the barstools with a glass of wine before pouring one for Cillian as well.  He smiled appreciatively as he took the glass from you, setting it down on the counter next to him.

"Now, where are the knives and chopping boards ?" Cillian asked, searching through the cabinets.

"They're over there, by the stove," you said, pointing to a cabinet near the sink.

He opened it and retrieved the necessary items, setting them down on the counter next to the ingredients. You watched as he began chopping the tomatoes and onions with some struggle, but determination. It was oddly endearing to see him put so much focus and effort into something so simple, but it only added to his attraction. 

"Here, let me show you an easier way to chop these onions," you said, sliding off the barstool and making your way over to the counter. You stood beside him, your arms brushing against his as you demonstrated the proper technique. It was impossible not to notice the current between you, even as you worked side by side. 

"You smell really nice," he commented, his eyes flicking up briefly to meet yours before returning to the task at hand.

"Uhm, thanks," you whispered while moving aside again, allowing him some space.  Your heart raced, but you couldn't tell if it was from the thrill of being so close to him or from the anxiety of what might come. You poured another glass of wine as he continued to cook and chop, lost in thought, until he tried to put on the stove.

"How does this work? It's not turning on," Cillian said, frowning at the stove.

"Let me help you. This old stove can be a little fickle at times," you offered, walking over to the stove and bending down to examine it. As you leaned closer, your chest brushed against Cillian's arm, sending a jolt of electricity through you both. You glanced up at him, and he was looking down at you with an intense expression. His gaze lingered on your lips for a moment, and your heart skipped a beat. It took all your strength to pull away and show him how to turn on the stove.

"There you go," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, causing Cillian to smile.

"Thanks ," he muttered, his eyes locked on yours for a moment too long.

As you both stood there, the tension between you grew heavier, like an invisible thread trying to pull you together. The air felt charged and thick, and it only became more apparent when you caught a glimpse of his hand reaching towards your face , tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sent a shiver down your spine and brought goosebumps to your skin. It had been so long since you've allowed someone this close.

"You know, Y/N, I really like your hair down. It suits you," Cillian murmured, his deep blue eyes never leaving yours. You couldn't help but blush at the sincerity in his voice and the way he looked at you made your heart race.

You stepped back, trying to create some distance between you two before your resolve weakened. "Let me get the pasta cooking while you finish chopping the rest of the vegetables," you said, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy.

As you busied yourself with the pasta, the silence in the kitchen became palpable. You could feel Cillian's gaze on you, but you were too afraid to meet his eyes.

You didn't want to risk getting lost in their depths again, allowing yourself to feel the intense attraction that had led you to this moment. You focused on cooking the pasta, letting the rhythmic movement of stirring the pot center you as you pushed away the rising desire.

Finally, Cillian broke the silence. "So, what movie do you want to watch later? I mean, what sort of stuff do you like?"  Cillian asked as he placed the chopped vegetables into the sizzling skillet of garlic and olive oil. The sound of the sizzling and popping of the food filled the already charged silence.

"I'm not really fussy when it comes to movies," you replied almost distractedly as you kept your focus on stirring the pasta, trying to maintain some sort of composure. "As long as it's a good story, I'll watch anything."

Cillian nodded in agreement, "I did bring a few from with me from home. You can pick one, if you like," Cillian suggested as he mixed the chopped vegetables around in the pan.

"You came prepared, I see," you replied with a small smile playing on your lips as, suddenly and somewhat unexpectedly, the power went out.

The kitchen lights flickered wildly before dousing the room in complete and utter darkness, leaving you both momentarily stunned.

"Fuck that was unexpected," Cillian muttered under his breath, finding his voice first.

You attempted to laugh it off nervously, aware of the sudden change in atmosphere and how intensely close Cillian was standing behind you.

"Let me get a torch, hang on,"  you said, fumbling around in a drawer for a flashlight. As you turned around, your knee accidentally brushed against Cillian's in the darkness causing tingling sensations to ripple through your body.

"Careful," Cillian murmured softly, your ears detecting the hint of mirth and intrigue simmering in his tone. You found the flashlight, switching it on as your eyes slowly began adjusting to the sudden bright light that carved through the darkness. It was like an ethereal spotlight illuminating only what was directly before you both.

Using the flashlight, you looked out of the window and noticed that all of the houses surrounding your building were in the dark.

"I think there might be a complete power outage," you said, directing the beam of light towards Cillian who had been quietly observing you.

"Well, I guess we'll have to skip the movie tonight," Cillian replied. "But at least dinner is ready, I suppose," he said, seeing that you had almost finished cooking. 

You nodded nervously, not entirely hating the idea of spending more time with Cillian without the distraction of a movie. 

"True that. I will find some candles, if you would like to dish out the food?" you suggested, hoping that Cillian wouldn't read too much into the situation.

"Sure," Cillian confirmed while you handed him to plates before disappearing into the living room to look for some candles.

You found a box of long white candles on a shelf in the living room, along with some matches. You grabbed them and returned to the kitchen where Cillian was waiting.

The sight of Cillian in your kitchen, the soft glow from the flashlight illuminating his face, made your heart beat faster. He looked so at home in your space, like he belonged there.

It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling, having someone else in your house, especially someone as young and handsome as Cillian. You tried to shake off the thought, reminding yourself that this was only temporary, that after this night things would go back to normal.

You lid the candles and placed them around the kitchen, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere. Cillian had finished plating the food, and you both sat down to eat at the kitchen table.

As you twirled your spaghetti around your fork, you couldn't help but steal glances at Cillian. He seemed so sure of himself, so confident. And yet, there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, something that made him all the more attractive.

"I am somewhat glad that the power went out, to be honest," Cillian admitted, breaking the silence between you both. "It's kind of romantic, don't you think?"  Cillian said with a smile, his deep blue eyes meeting yours in the soft glow of the candles.

You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to keep your composure even though you couldn't deny the fluttering feeling in your chest. "You think this is romantic?" you eventually asked, attempting to downplay the situation.

"Yeah, kind of...I think," he stammered, his voice low and earnest. "I mean, it's just us, in your house, with candles and food. It feels inttimate somehow,"  Cillian explained, his words causing a blush to rise to your cheeks.

You nodded in agreement, surprised by the sudden shift in the atmosphere between you two. "I guess you're right," you said, feeling the tension between you grow stronger with every passing moment.

For a while, the only sound in the room was the clinking of silverware against plates and the soft murmur of contentment as you both enjoyed the meal that Cillian had made. But as time passed, the silence grew heavier, like a thick blanket settling over the room.

You could feel Cillian's gaze on you, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Was he feeling the same tension that you were? Was he experiencing the same longing, the same desire?

Finally, you looked up at him, locking eyes in the flickering candlelight. You could see the heat building in his deep blue eyes, and it made your stomach clench with anticipation.

"Do you like boardgames?" Cillian asked suddenly, breaking the thick silence that had enveloped the room.

You raised an eyebrow at him, surprised at the sudden change of topic. "Yes, I do. Why do you ask?"

"If you have any games, we could play one after dinner if you like ," Cillian replied casually, as if he hadn't just ignited a spark of excitement in your chest. "My family used to play games a lot together when I was growing up, and I always found it was fun during blackouts." 

You considered his suggestion for a moment before nodding in agreement. "Sure, that sounds like a great idea actually." You couldn't remember the last time you had played a board game as your ex husband hated them with a passion, always preferring to bury himself in his work.

After dinner, you scanned the living room for any games you might have forgotten about. "Ah, here we go." You picked up an old Scrabble set from a dusty shelf. "Do you want to play this?" you asked, holding up the game.

Cillian nodded eagerly, taking the game from your hands. "Scrabble is a classic," he said, flashing you a toothy grin that sent butterflies swarming in your stomach.

"But I have to admit, I do have a bit of an unfair advantage."

"Unfair advantage?" you asked with a raised eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

He smirked mischievously. "I am the unbeaten scrabble champion in my family, you know."

You couldn't help but laugh, his energy and enthusiasm infectious. The tension between you two had dissipated slightly, replaced by an ease and comfort that was surprising yet welcome.

"Well then, bring it on then!" you  challenged Cillian with a playful smile, feeling the tension ease between you two. You grabbed some paper and a pen to keep score as he opened the game board and began to sort the tiles on the coffee table in front of you.

You both sat down on a cushion, with a glass of wine, in front of the coffee table. The power outage had put a different spin on things, and instead of getting lost in your own worries, you found yourself enjoying Cillian's company. He had a brilliant mind and an easygoing manner that made it impossible not to like him.

You watched in amusement as he craftily laid out his first word on the board, earning himself a good amount of points.

You followed suit, creating your own word next to his and enjoying the back-and-forth challenge of trying to outmaneuver one another. The game was intensifying with every move, and before you knew it, an hour had passed since you started playing, during which you did a lot of talking as well. 

As Cillian reached for another tile, he paused for a moment and looked up at you. "You know, Y/N," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I really appreciate this."

"Appreciate what?" you asked, taken aback by the sudden earnestness in his tone.

"This. Being here with you, it's just really nice," Cillian replied, his deep blue eyes meeting yours in the soft glow of the candles.

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and for a moment, the barrier you had put up cracking just a bit.

"Thank you, Cillian," you said softly, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "I'm glad you're here," you told him  , holding his gaze for a few more moments before looking away.

You both continued to play the game quietly now, unlike before where you talked a lot about common interests. But now, you were trying to ignore the heat simmering between you. The flickering candles cast deep shadows on your faces, highlighting your flushed cheeks and the longing in your eyes. You were acutely aware of how close Cillian was sitting next to you, and of how the air between you both crackled with tension.

Finally, after what felt like hours of willful ignorance, Cillian set down his tiles and one of his hands reached out to you, brushing your thigh. 

"I think you won. It's getting late," you said quietly then as those blue eyes of his were burning into you.

"I know. But if this is really the only date I get, I don't want this night to end," Cillian replied, his voice ragged with desire. He took a deep, steadying breath as he leaned closer to you, his hand tightening on your thigh.

You let out a shaky sigh as his fingers traced slow, teasing circles on your skin. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs and your heart pounded in your chest.

With trembling hands, you reached up to touch his face.  The stubble on his jaw scratched at your palm, sending shivers down your spine. He leaned into your touch, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see the raw desire in them, and it only served to fuel your own need.

Without a word, Cillian closed the distance between you and claimed your mouth with his. His lips were soft against yours, but the urgency of the kiss was anything but gentle. He nipped at your bottom lip, demanding entrance and, after not too long, you obliged.

You moaned as his tongue entered your mouth, tasting of the wine you shared earlier in the evening. You matched his intensity as you lost yourself in the moment, the two of you searching for some friction to alleviate the ache that had been building within you since first laying eyes on him.

As you began to writhe on the floor in front of him, Cillian pulled back from your lips and looked down at your flushed face, panting and ready for whatever he was going to do next.

"We should not be doing this again ," you whispered between ragged breaths, your mind a fuzzy mess of conflicting emotions and pure desire. Part of you knew that what was happening between you both was wrong, but there was another part of you, deep down inside, that craved for the pleasure only Cillian could give you.

"I know," he replied huskily as he began to tug at the buttons on your black cotton dress, exposing your lacy white bra and the rosy tips of your breasts.

You gasped as his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your cleavage, sending shivers down your spine.

"I shouldn't want you as much as I do. I shouldn't be doing this," you murmured between shallow breaths, even as your hands snaked around his neck and pulled him closer.

"But you do, and I want you too. And right now, that's all that matters," Cillian whispered back, his voice laced with determination and desire.

He tugged at your dress and, of course, you got the message and quickly pulled over your head , leaving you in only your white lacy bra and matching underwear.

Cillian let out a low growl as he took in the sight of your bare flesh, his eyes roving over every inch of you like a starving man granted access to a lavish feast.

"Fuck, Y/N. You're so beautiful," he murmured, and you could already see his erection straining against his jeans. 

"So are you," you told him as you reached for the buttons of his shirt. "You're so fucking handsome, Cillian."

Cillian's lips curved upwards in a pleased smile as you finished unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his toned chest. Without hesitating, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his firm pecs. His breath caught as your tongue darted out to taste him, leaving a trail of moisture in its wake. He tasted like sweat and musk, it was intoxicating.

Cillian responded by running his fingers through your hair, tugging gently at the roots.

You couldn't help but moan at the sensation, your body arching into his touch. He took advantage of your reaction by shifting you closer to him, your thighs straddling his.

The friction from the denim of his jeans and the lace of your thong sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You could feel yourself getting wetter with every passing second, all reason fleeing your mind as your desire for Cillian became paramount.

"Come on, I will show you my bedroom,"  you panted, breaking the kiss for a moment as you stood up from the floor.

Cillian wasted no time responding to your invitation, quickly standing up and following you out of the living room and towards your bedroom with an eager look in his eyes.

As soon as he entered the room, he pulled you close to him again, his hands roaming over your bare skin as he hungrily devoured your lips once more. You eagerly pushed him down onto the bed, straddling him once more as you ground your hips against his denim clad erection.

"Tell me how much you want me!" you told Cillian as you unclasped your bra, freeing your breasts. "Say it!" you demanded, your voice breathy and dripping with need. Your hips continued to grind against him, the friction sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cillian growled, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "I want you. I want you so fucking bad."

His words sent a jolt of desire straight to your core, and you couldn't help but moan at the intensity of it all.

"And what do you want to do to me?" you then asked before reaching for one of his hands and bringing it up to your breast.

He squeezed it gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple, eliciting a shudder of pleasure from you.

"Fuck, Y/N, I want to do so many filthy things to you," Cillian replied, his voice husky and strained with desire.

"Be specific!"  you demanded, biting your bottom lip as you scooted back a little to unbutton and unzip his jeans. "What filthy things?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you pulled his jeans down, his boxers following suit. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight of his cock, hard and ready for you.

"I want to taste you, Y/N," Cillian growled, his hand reaching up to tangle in your hair. "I want to taste every inch of you."

You moaned at the thought, your body already trembling with need as you moved off him for a second to allow him to get rid of his jeans and briefs completely, looking slightly awkward while he did so.

"So you want to taste my pussy? Is that what you want?" you smirked as you elegantly wiggled yourself out of your lacy thong.

"Yes , that's exactly what I want," Cillian confirmed, his stare locked onto the moistness glistening between your legs.

You shivered at the intensity of his desire and at the anticipation building inside you as you crawled back onto the bed, positioning yourself over his face.

"Then go ahead," you said as you lowered yourself onto his mouth, granting him access to your warm and wet pussy.

Cillian let out a pleased growl and immediately started exploring you with his tongue.

You moaned as he licked and sucked at your clit, his tongue probing at your entrance before diving back to your swollen nub. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he feasted on you.

Your moans grew louder and more frequent as he devoured you, the pleasure building inside of you like a pressure cooker threatening to explode. You could feel the tension coiling within you, your muscles tensing up in anticipation of the release that was fast approaching.

Being so young, he was surprisingly good with his tongue, his skill only matched by the masterful way he kneaded your ass, priming you for the next step.

"God damn it, don't stop!" you panted, your fingers tangling in his hair to hold him in place as his tongue bore down on that one spot, leaving you writhing and panting. "Don't fucking stop!"

But Cillian had no intention of stopping. If anything, this was just a precursor of what was to come.

You ground your hips down, desperately chasing the elusive climax that teased you from beyond the horizon. Cillian responded in kind by slipping two fingers inside of you with ease, and hitting that spot that sent pleasure cascading through your entire body.

"Oh shit! Oh shit!" you cried out as your orgasm hit. You could feel yourself gripping onto Cillian like he was the only lifeboat available to you in a stormy sea of pleasure. Your thighs quivered around his head, your toes curled, and your back arced.

The pleasure was so intense, it was almost painful. Your orgasm seemed to last forever, ripping through you with wave after wave of ecstasy and Cillian kept on going.

"Enough! Fuck , oh fuck, Cillian, enough!" you eventually managed to gasp in between breaths as your orgasm finally subsided. Your entire body felt like a wrung out towel but Cillian wasn't done yet.

"Uh-uh , there's more where that came from." Cillian smirked and flipped you onto your back before his head disappeared in between your legs again.

"No, no! There is no more! You need to stop! I can't take it anymore," you pleaded, but Cillian ignored your cries. He continued to thrust his fingers inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that made you cry out in ecstasy before from an even better angle now. 

"Hmm, you have the most fucking perfect pussy I have ever seen," he murmured against you, causing your hips to buck upwards in response.

You couldn't help but moan again, your hips gyrating with pleasure as he went back to feasting on you.

This time, his fingers curled upwards , massaging that spot inside of you that made stars explode behind your eyes.

"Shit, Cillian, fuck!" you cried out as another orgasm threatened to shatter your very being.

You writhed and bucked, your hips seemingly moving of their own accord as he refused to let up.

And then, just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his tongue, before sliding two fingers back in and teasing your clit with his thumb.

It was too much and yet not enough.

You could feel your body spiraling towards the edge, but just as you were about to fall over, Cillian would change tactics, drawing out your pleasure until you were begging for release.

"Please, Cillian," you moaned, your voice hoarse from all the moaning and crying out and he clearly loved it when you begged. "I can't take it anymore. It's too much."

But Cillian didn't stop. Instead, he increased his pace, the tip of his tongue flicking your clit rapidly as his fingers continued to thrust in and out of you with just the right amount of force.

You cried out, your entire body trembling as another orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. It was so intense that you saw stars behind your closed eyelids, your vision going white for several long moments as a warm stream of your arousal flooded over Cillian's chin.

Cillian didn't seem to mind the taste, lapping up every last drop of your release with obvious relish before finally sitting back on his heels, seemingly content to let you rest for a moment. He looked debauched and dirty and fucking perfect, his lips stained from your arousal and an almost predatory glint in his eyes.

"So how did I do?" Cillian asked, looking up at you with a smug grin.

You were still trying to catch your breath, your chest heaving as you tried to summon enough energy to speak. "You...you did good," you finally managed to gasp out.

Cillian chuckled and leaned forward to press a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. "Just good?" he teased, pulling back just enough so he could look you in the eyes.

"Fucking amazingly good," you corrected, finally finding your voice. "Almost too good, actually!" 

"Jesus, and I thought you were stickler for the use of correct grammar," Cillian chuckled, crawling back up your supine body. His lips peppered kisses down your neck and collarbone before he settled to kneel between your legs once more.

You chuckled, still slightly out of breath from the two intense orgasms that had just rocked your world.  "You're right, I am a stickler for grammar and proper sentence structure, but my brain seems to have turned to mush from what you just did to me." 

Cillian's face split into a wide grin as he looked down at you with pure adoration. "You know you look so fucking sexy when you loose control," he murmured, and even through your post-orgasmic haze, you couldn't help but blush at his words. "And I can't believe you squirt. Fuck, I only ever seen this in movies and magazines, you know. It's so fucking hot," Cillian continued, his voice still holding wonder in it, causing you to laugh.

"Trust me, that makes two of us. I didn't know I would do that either. But I am glad I could make your pornographic fantasies become a reality. You are welcome," you laughed, still catching your breath as Cillian hovered over your body.

You had never experienced anything like what he had just done to you, and part of you still couldn't believe it had actually happened. But as Cillian looked down at you with a hunger in his eyes, you knew he was far from finished.

His hair was disheveled from where you had tugged on it, his lips reddened from your kisses and your taste still lingered on his tongue.

You reached up to him, tracing the curve of his jaw with your fingers, marveling at the roughness of stubble against the pads of your fingers.

Cillian captured your hand in his, pressing a lingering kiss to the palm before he used it to pull you up to a seated position.

Your breasts brushed against his bare chest, a shiver running down your spine as you felt the firmness of his muscles beneath your fingertips.

"It's my turn now to taste you," you breathed in Cillian's ear, causing goosebumps to break out across his skin.

With one swift movement, you pushed him onto his back and your head disappeared between his legs, your tongue sweeping across the already damp tip of his cock.

Cillian sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the heat of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue against him. His hands found their way into your hair, fisting the strands as you licked and sucked your way down his length.

You took your time, exploring every inch of him with your tongue, tasting the musky saltiness of his skin and the smoothness of his shaft. You could feel Cillian's hips bucking beneath you, his movements urgent and needy.

"You have such a perfect cock ," you told him between sucks, enjoying the shudder that ran through him at your words. "It tastes so good."

You hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper, your nose brushing against his coarse pubic hair as you finally took him all the way in.

Cillian let out a guttural moan, his fingers tightening in your hair as you deep throated him while, all at the same time, playing with his balls.  The sensation was overwhelming, a heady mix of pleasure and pain that sent shivers down his spine. He had never experienced anything like this before, and he knew that he would never forget the feel of your mouth on him, the sound of your moans of pleasure as you sucked him deeper into your throat.

You pulled back, gasping for air and leaving a string of saliva connecting Cillian's cock to your lips. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, your lips shiny with spit and pre-cum.

Cillian groaned at the sight, his entire body trembling as he tried to hold back. His hips bucked upwards, chasing your mouth as you pulled back, teasing him.

"You like that, don't you?" You purred, your fingers drifting down to cup his balls as you pressed open-mouthed kisses against his muscular thighs. "You like having my mouth on your cock."

Cillian couldn't speak, but his response was obvious as he let out a strangled moan in answer.

His hips continued to push upwards, seeking out your mouth as you trailed wet kisses back up his shaft.

"Y/N, I'm going to cum," Cillian warned, his voice strained and ragged. "You need to stop, fuck."

You gave him a mischievous grin before taking him back in your mouth, swallowing everything he had to offer and only pulling away when he was spent and trembling beneath you.

"I want you to cum in my mouth, Cillian ," you said, your voice low and sultry as you looked up at him from beneath your lashes.

Cillian groaned at the sight of you, your swollen lips and the glistening sheen of saliva and pre-cum coating your chin and lips. You reached up to stroke him gently before leaning in to take him back in your mouth.

You felt Cillian's body tense beneath your touch, his fingers tightening in your hair as he pulled you closer to him, burying himself in your throat once again.

You moaned around him, your fingers wrapping tighter around his shaft as you stroked him in time with your mouth.

Cillian's hips began to buck wildly, his back arching off the bed as he lost himself in the pleasure coursing through him.

You could feel him twitching in your mouth, the salty taste of his pre-cum mixing with the musky essence of his arousal on your tongue.

"Fuck, Y/N! I'm gonna cum!" Cillian shouted, his voice ragged and raw with pleasure.

You felt his cock swell and pulse in your mouth, the first spurt of his warm, salty release coating your tongue as you tried to collect his load in your mouth.

Cillian let out a guttural groan as he emptied himself, his fingers still fisted in your hair, holding you in place as your cheeks filled out with his seed until, finally, he was done. His hips stuttered against your face, his entire body shuddering with pleasure as he rode out the last waves of his release.

You opened your mouth to show him the pearly liquid coating your tongue, before swallowing it down with a filthy little grin.

Cillian groaned as he looked down at you, his cock still twitching in the aftermath of his orgasm. A small amount of cum had spilled out of the corner  of your mouth and was slowly dribbling down your chin.

You smiled at him, a wicked glint in your eyes as you collected the droplets with your index finger before, suggestively,  licking it off your finger.

Cillian's chin dropped open at the sight, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of your licking your lips, enjoying the taste of him. 

"Fuck that's the hottest thing I've ever seen," he breathed, still in a daze from the orgasm you had just given him.

You grinned at him, your face still flushed with pleasure and desire. "So you liked it?"

"Liked it? I fucking loved it," Cillian replied, his voice hoarse from the intensity of his orgasm.

"Good, but I still need your cock  inside me though," you told him, your voice raspy with desire as you watched him hardening again almost instantly at your words.

"Wow, that was easy," you said with a hint of surprise in your voice, stroking his hardness.

Cillian chuckled, propping himself up on his elbows. "With you it is,"  he said, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. 

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that you hadn't felt in a long time. It was more than just lust or desire. It was a sense of closeness, of intimacy, that went beyond the physical act of sex.

"I want you inside me," you whispered, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

"Then take what you need. I am all yours," Cillian said, his voice thick with desire as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together.

You gasped as you felt his hardness pressing against the apex of your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against him as you leaned in to kiss him deeply. 

Maneuvering  your body, you positioned yourself over his hardness and sunk down onto him with a deep groan.

Cillian's head fell back as you took him in, his fingers gripping your hips tightly. "Fuck, Y/N," he groaned as you began to move, shifting your hips back and forth, riding him with a slow and sensual pace.

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you continued to rock your hips, allowing his length to fill you to accommodate him completely.

You moaned, your hips moving in a steady rhythm as every nerve in your body seemed to come alive with pleasure.

Cillian's breath hitched as you began to move, his hands moving up from your hips to cup your breasts. He circled your nipples with his thumbs, eliciting gasps of pleasure from you as he pinched and twisted them lightly.

"Oh fuck, Cillian," you breathed, throwing your head back as you ground your hips down against him. "You feel so fucking good inside me," you moaned, the words tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

Cillian groaned in response, his hands tightening on your hips as he thrust upwards to meet you. "You feel incredible, Y/N," he grunted, each word punctuated by a thrust of his hips. "So fucking tight and wet."

His words ignited a fire deep within you, sending shivers down your spine as you began to move faster, your body moving in a primal rhythm that seemed to have a life of its own.

You could feel the tension building within you once more, your muscles tensing up as you chased after another orgasm.

Cillian's hips met yours with every thrust, his fingers digging into your flesh as he too chased after his own release. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips leaving wet trails of kisses as he murmured filthy words of encouragement and desire. Cillian growled, his voice barely above a whisper as he nipped at your earlobe.

"I can't hold back much longer, Y/N," he moaned and you shivered at the sound of his voice, the roughness of it causing your core to clench around him. 

"Then don't," you whispered, your voice hoarse from the moans and gasps that slipped past your lips with each thrust. "Cum for me, Cillian. Cum inside me," you told him, knowing that the feeling of it would also send you over the edge.

Cillian didn't need any more encouragement. He pushed himself up and back, rolling you over so that he was now on top. His thrusts became faster, harder, building up a friction that had both of you panting and moaning in pleasure.

You could feel yourself getting close, and so could Cillian. He reached between the two of you, rubbing your clit with his thumb as he continued to thrust into you.

"Fuck, yes," you moaned, raising your hips to meet his thrusts.

"Don't stop, Cillian. Don't you dare fucking stop."

Cillian groaned at your words, his hips snapping forward with even more force as he felt you clenching around him. He could feel himself getting close, the familiar tightness in his balls signaling that his release was imminent.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside of you, letting out a guttural moan as he came hard, filling you up with his seed.

The feeling of him pulsing inside you, the slick wetness between your thighs, and the aftershocks of your own orgasm all contributed to the heady mix of pleasure and satisfaction that washed over as you came as well. Hard and fast. 

"Oh god yes," you moaned as you writhed beneath him, your hips still moving, milking every last drop out of him as he slowly came down from his high. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, sweat dripping down your forehead as you looked up at Cillian with a sated grin.

"Holy shit," Cillian whispered, still trying to catch his own breath.

His forehead was pressed against yours, sweat dripping down between the two of you as you lay there in blissful silence.

Your hands drifted up his back, feeling the muscles there ripple beneath your fingertips as he shifted and rolled off of you, collapsing onto the mattress beside you with a contented sigh.

The scent of sex and sweat filled the room, mingling with the heady aroma of arousal that still lingered in the air.

The sound of ragged breathing and the occasional soft moan filled the silence, punctuated by the quiet rustle of fabric as both of them tried to catch their breath.

Cillian turned his head to smile at you, his deep blue eyes glazed with satisfaction and warmth. His hair was a tousled mess from where your fingers had run through it, and there was a faint pink tinge to his cheeks that only served to highlight his attractiveness even more.

You smiled back at him, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you as you snuggled closer, resting your head on his shoulder.

Your limbs were still trembling slightly from the force of your orgasm, but you felt completely at ease in this moment.

Cillian wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "You are on the pill, right?" he then asked out of the blue, causing you to chuckle. 

"Yes, I am on the pill," you replied, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "And if I wasn't, I wouldn't have let you cum inside me."

Cillian nodded, seeming relieved at your answer. "Good," he said, before pulling you back down into a kiss.

"You didn't ask me that the last time we had sex," you murmured against his lips, a faint blush staining your cheeks.

"I should have," Cillian replied, his voice soft. "I just assumed, you know," he trailed off, a pained look crossing his face.

You reached up to cup his cheek, brushing your thumb over the faint stubble on his jawline. "I know," you murmured. "It's okay. I would have told you if I wasn't."

Cillian nodded, looking grateful for your reassurance. He wrapped his arms around you tighter, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your hair.

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" you then asked , your voice soft and hesitant.

Cillian's blue eyes met yours, searching your face for any hint of uncertainty or regret. But all he saw was the same heat and desire that he felt mirrored in his own gaze. "Yes," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "I would like that," he told you and, with that, the two of you lay there in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking until, eventually, you both drifted off to sleep. 

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[sirfrogsworth]

Please correct me if I'm wrong, but what I believe OP is referencing that in Fine Arts and other similar 2D drawn/painted/etc arts, the general goal of taking photos is to keep the light as flat as possible so that the photo itself has no change in values aside from the actual ink/paint/etc. I.e. in taking a picture of the Mona Lisa, you generally don't see a cast shadow from, say, a tree branch (ignoring that it's in a museum, of course with minimal lighting for preservation reasons). You don't want to see shadows from where an artist may have pushed down the pencil too hard on the paper, or the crags in oil paintings (typically). It's why scanners got pretty encouraged for high res/no shadows/etc in early online art communities.

However, I would also like OP to check out art from the 60s and 70s I believe, where a lot of artists did play with the reflection of light and shadow in their works, and while a good lot of them are 3D or Installation artists, there are others that working more 2D, and also more contemporary artists that specifically use light and shadow play in their work (I forget the artist's name, but there's one who uses lights to create window glows in his ink and pencil drawings), and how shadow puppetry with flat, hinged cut outs was a very early style in animated films.

So please, play with shadows and light in your flat/drawn artworks if it makes you happy! Art is made to play, and there are some extremely unique ways to incorporate your surroundings into that work. And who knows, you could be the one to start another movement. That flat lighting has its place in college portfolios, but not every piece of art can be so neatly packaged.

Art preservation has two main ways to document fine art. Scanning or photographing.

The standard photographic way is typically to use a very high resolution medium format camera (Usually a Phase One) with a lens with minimal distortion. Two lights are placed on either side of the painting angled at 45 degrees toward the center. And this creates a very evenly lit photograph with minimal shadows. Color charts are placed near the painting in the same light so the photo can be calibrated later on.

For museum quality documentation, this process may be done in a stitched panorama to increase the overall resolution. But there are also pixel shift technologies where the camera can offset the physical sensor by one pixel in any direction to allow capturing maximum detail. A 100 megapixel camera essentially becomes 400 megapixels. It's a very finicky process requiring concrete floors and sturdy mounts (any microscopic movement will ruin the process), but it produces amazing results when captured by an experienced professional.

Scanning is best if the form factor of the artwork allows for it. There are high end "touchless" scanners that run the art through on a conveyor belt system. This also results in a pretty flat looking representation.

One technique that is becoming popular is 3D microscopy. This allows them to capture the fine texture of the painting. They can also put the painting in any lighting environment after the fact. So you can do shadowless, even lighting or you can do a side light that rakes across the texture, allowing you to see paint cracks and brush strokes more defined.

Here is the Girl with the Pearl Earring's eye catchlight, which apparently is a bit of a glob.

There is a video on this process including a huge 3D print where people can physically experience the texture of the painting.

And you can check out the 3D scan of the Girl with a Pearl Earring here.

With VR headsets growing in popularity, I imagine these professional tools for creating 3D representations will become more accessible. And people will be able to scan their own art in a similar fashion. Canon is already developing a dual lens system that might be applicable.

[jisuto]

On the topic of game reception, what are your thoughts on the current state of pokemon?

OK THIS ASK WAS SENT BEFORE THE HUGE LEAK LOL but I have a lot to say:

I watched VHS tapes, played the games, and owned merch since a young age so the series is very special to me. But I don't like the current direction at all and it's not because of the designs or nostalgia. The quality and game performance plummeted so how can I enjoy playing when there's mad lag or low frame rate that hinders my progress and worsen the experience??

It took too many years for them to realize they need to put quality over quantity after the SWSH mess, seeing that they can get away with pretty much ANYTHING and still make huge profit. You see people say that Pokemon should've never went 3D and stay 2D but tbh, it's a series that improves it's graphics as technology advances so it's not a surprise for them to finally go 3D and personally I think that's fine but just keep it looking good and fun (though I would love a 2D/3D hybrid). XY introduced a lot of new features but still lacked in some aspects that still haven't really been solved or added.

Reusing assets is common in the industry but only to a certain extent. They claimed that SWSH was taking a while to make because they were making brand new models which turned out to be a lie and they look like bootleg figures with the new lighting. The 3DS models were ripped from Pokepark, including some animations, but a lot of them still barely have any character. They have their own in-house team (Creatures Inc) so they made the decision NOT to have pokemon properly animated or look alive.... Also they made spin-offs like Ranger, Colosseum, Pokepark, and Pokken which look AMAZING

FRLG took only one year while HGSS was being developed at the same time as Platinum and took 3 years to finish that turned into one of the best games and remakes ever made. As the franchise expands, the team also needs to add more manpower but Game Freak can definitely afford to get more resources to help them?? They can't continue having a ragtag team of like 20 people to make a game back then and do the same now then expect good results... Hire more people who know how create with current gen consoles IT'S COMMON SENSE PLS also I can't believe they had a different company create BDSP knowing how beloved and groundbreaking DPPT was?? No redesigns like the previous remakes and thought it was a good idea to keep it looking a carbon copy to the DS style...

Also it's shocking to see how fan reception can change how the devs direct the next gen ESPECIALLY when it's not even real constructive criticism?? When Unova came out, I remember seeing all the online outcry about "OH THEY HAVE AN ICE CREAM CONE POKEMON AND A TRASH BAG, THEY'RE RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS EW" then actually hear it being repeated at school.... I WAS TRYING TO SURVIVE SINCE DAY 1 IN THE TRENCHES DEFENDING THIS GAME IT WAS ALWAYS GOOD AND DIDN'T NEED 10 YEARS TO AGE WELL. It's crazy how these are the same people who want another Kanto when Trubbish is Grimer (garbage waste) and Vanillite is Voltorb (based on literal items) then you could not catch any other pokemon from different regions in the main game. And the leak confirmed that the disgruntled hate from the west made the devs not release new pokemon in B2W2 and move them over to XY instead AND NOT GIVE A SINGLE GEN 5 MEGA EVOLUTION. So we were robbed because of genwunners who were fixated on the wrong things and ignored all the great content Unova brought us. It's strange how players keep complaining they want a different and fresh game, but want it to continue being super formulaic and binary like wtf do you want make up your mind

None of the switch titles really got me invested and I always end up replaying the older games but hopefully PLZA will break the curse and finally give us a nice game. Also why don't we have more spin-offs on the switch if there's so many of them floating around like the DS had a bunch??? STOP BEING COWARDS I WANT A POKEMON NINTENDOGS GAME OR THAT FIRE EMBLEM CROSSOVER WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET. I JUST WANT TO HAVE FUN AGAIN ;w;