#is it too early to make that kind of comparison? perhaps

[kingdomoftyto]

Sat down tonight to start reading the first Wings of Fire book that my nieces lent me and very nearly made it through the entire thing in one sitting. (I'm only stopping because it's almost sunrise and I'm struggling to keep my eyes open lol)

... Honestly, this feels almost like experiencing Guardians of Ga'Hoole for the first time all over again

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors

Your admiration of his vest leads you to an empty office with his face buried between your thighs—and an urgent Emily demanding your whereabouts.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spence (are we even surprised), fingering, oral sex (f), semi-public, slight overstimulation, and Emily kind of overhears because she calls Reader in the middle of the deed (oops). 5k words

A/n: I don’t have any excuse for this one, I just wanted to rewrite this scene of him because looking at it is not enough

You heard him before you saw him. It wasn't his voice per se, but the distinct sound of rapid shots cutting through the air. The noise seemed to intensify as you stepped into the control room, almost overbearing, but you'd long since grown used to its piercing sound.

"Is that Reid?" You asked, your polished boots echoing into the confined space. The officer monitoring him through the surveillance camera glanced over at you, and even though her expression didn't betray outright displeasure, you could hear a subtle edge in her voice.

"Agent Y/L/N," she greeted, her eyes darting between the rows of monitors, then to you, and finally settling on the clipboard in her hand. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Actually, I am. It’s Tuesday, my usual training day.”

"Not for another hour."

"I know," you countered, holding up your wrist to check your watch. "But I have some spare time, thought I’d come by early."

“I’m afraid it’s occupied right now. Agent Reid is still in the middle of his test."

This caught your attention. "What test?"

She glanced at you, her expression conflicted. "It's just a routine evaluation."

"He's currently not an active agent," you pointed out. It hadn’t been too long since his release from prison. It didn’t make any sense for him to go through an evaluation, not when he was behind bars for the past few weeks. Then recognition dawned on your face. "He's being evaluated to rejoin the team, isn't he?"

"I... I'm not at liberty to discuss that," she replied. Her gaze faltered momentarily before she nodded slowly, confirming your suspicions. "But yes, it's standard procedure for agents returning from extended leave."

"Oh wow—okay," you responded, absorbing the information. Your eyes flickered towards the monitor. "How's he doing?"

Her lips formed a thoughtful line before she answered, "Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp."

You let out a laugh, finding the comparison amusing. You'd known Spencer for what, three, four years? While he wasn't bad with firearms, comparing him to a historical figure like Wyatt Earp seemed a bit exaggerated. However, as you watched him through the monitors, despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the truth in her words.

You had witnessed him handle a gun countless times, but always in situations where there was a real threat, where you both had to be on high alert. Yet as you observed him now from a different perspective, it was hard to tear your eyes away. It was as if he was in his element, and Spencer Reid in his element never looked so... attractive?

Now that wasn't an exaggeration. Although you had never admitted this to anyone—god forbid what your teammates would say—there was an undeniable charm to the confidence he exuded. While Spencer had always been attractive, there was something different about the way he handled the gun.

You were sure it had something to do with his time in prison. After all, who wouldn't be affected by such a daunting place, especially when you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place? Yet, surprisingly, Spencer seemed to be coping better than you expected. Despite the toll it must have taken on him, it was evident that his experiences had shaped him, perhaps more than he let on.

Although he was still the same sweet, adorable guy you considered one of your closest friends. But you weren't sure your current observation of him fitted the typical definition of friendship… because there was nothing remotely friendly about the thoughts running in your head right now.

Not only was it not friendly, but it wasn't exactly innocent. Because look at him. Look at the way he was gripping the gun, his arms defined beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Look at the way his protective glasses covered his face, the black-rimmed frames accentuating his handsome features. And even though you had seen him wear the uniform vest countless times, somehow it was undeniably distracting the way it hugged his chest. 

Yep—there was nothing remotely friendly about how you wanted to climb up the man.

A sudden buzz echoed in the room, snapping you to reality. You glanced up and noticed the officer you were talking to entering the monitor screen and it dawned on you that you had been so distracted by your thoughts that you hadn't realized she had left the control room.

"I'll send the results to the review board this evening," the officer's voice resonated from the screen.

"Did I do okay?" His voice came through.

"Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp," she replied, echoing her earlier assessment. Her gaze shifted to the printed cardboard image of a man, supposedly representing the Unsub, which was shredded right around the face. "Or... Al Capone, maybe."

You observed Spencer's slight nod as she turned and walked out of the screen. Quickly, you exited the control room and met her in the hallway.

"Agent Y/L/N," she called out as she spotted you. "You can have the room in five minutes—"

"I need to reschedule."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Reschedule?"

"Uh... yes, something urgent came up," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

She regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, just let me know when you want to reschedule."

"I will, thank you," you said quickly. Sensing her lingering gaze, you added, "Oh, I'm just waiting for Reid. I need his help on... something."

A faint smile played on her lips, though she didn't press further. "Of course, I'll leave you to it then." 

With a nod, she turned and walked away just as the door at the end of the hallway opened, revealing Spencer emerging from the room. His eyes met yours in confusion, and you could sense his curiosity as he approached you.

"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

You cocked your head to the side.

What were you doing here? 

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before offering a shrug. "Just passing by, I guess."

His brow furrowed slightly as if he sensed there was more to your answer than you were letting on. "Alright," he said, though his curiosity lingered in his gaze.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject. "So, how did the evaluation go?"

"So you've heard.”

"Yeah," you confirmed, starting to walk down the hallway as he stepped in pace beside you. "I can't wait for you to be back on the team. Officially, that is."

"If they let me back on the team."

"Of course they will," you reassured him, your hand finding its place on his shoulder, offering support. "You're more than qualified."

He sighed, and you tried not to notice the subtle movement of his vest across his chest, or how it shifted under your touch. "You think so?"

"I know so," you affirmed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, they'll definitely bring you back."

He stopped his pace, and so did you, before his eyes flickered towards your hand on his shoulder. He must've sensed something different, considering you weren't exactly the type of person who liked physical contact. Neither of you were, actually. While Spencer was known for his aversion to germs, you simply preferred maintaining a certain level of personal space.

"Seriously," he wondered, his tone laced with curiosity. "What are you doing down here?"

You cleared your throat. "I told you, I was just passing by."

"Really? Is that why you're talking to me instead of going through your usual training?" he pressed on. "It's Tuesday. I'm well aware of your schedule."

Damn him and his eidetic memory. You shifted away from his gaze. "Can't a girl just choose to have a chat with a friend?"

"You chose me over your scheduled routine?” his lips curved into a subtle smile. “Am I that much of a distraction?”

Yes, that damn vest is distracting me.

"Distraction might be a bit strong,” you replied, the lie sounding feeble even to your own ears.

"So you’re admitting I’m slightly distracting?"

"I never said that.”

Spencer leaned in and you felt the heat of his proximity radiating from his body. "But you didn't deny it either.”

You felt a faint blush creep onto your cheeks as you realized the shift in his tone. Dare you say he was... flirting with you? Or was it just your imagination running wild? From the corner of your eye, you caught the subtle way he licked his lips, and without meaning to, your own gaze was drawn to the movement.

It was a habit of his, one you'd observed countless times before whether it was out of concentration or a mere reflex. But seeing it up close now, the way his tongue traced the curve of his bottom lip, was driving you insane.

You swallowed hard. This was not friendly behavior. A friend wouldn't be imagining what it would feel like to have his tongue on your lips instead.

"Y/N?"

Your face felt hot as you met his gaze. "I..."

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter and chatter from down the hallway reached your ears. You heard Penelope's unmistakable giggle with JJ's animated voice, and suddenly your instinct took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him into an empty office nearby. 

The door shut with a soft thud, and you frowned, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn't want to be caught in a state of flustered panic like some nervous school girl talking to her crush, but as Spencer stood behind you, you realized you were overreacting. The more you dwelled on it, the more absurd it seemed to hide away when there was no reason to.

With a sigh, you turned to face him. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to..."

But as your gaze met him, your words faltered because he was standing closer than you expected. Close enough that the color of his eyes seemed to intensify under the soft light filtering through the window—a rich brown, like warm chocolate, with specks of gold that danced in the sunlight.

Your eyes involuntarily traced downwards, from the sharp lines of his nose to the curve of his lips, lingering on the stubble lining his jawline. Your mind wandered, and now you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel having it against your skin. Or how it would feel pressed against your thigh.

Your face grew hotter at the thought.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step forward. You squeaked in surprise, an actual high-pitched sound leaving your lips, as you felt the hard surface of his vest pressing against your chest.

"It's just..." You hesitated, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "You're standing really close..."

He glanced down at you, his eyes resting on your lips. "Do you want me to move?"

"I... uh..."

His eyes flickered back up to meet yours. "I'll take that as a no."

Before you could process his words, his hand reached up, fingers gently gripping your waist. You felt a rush of heat spread through you at his touch, the sensation seeping through your shirt and you found yourself leaning into him, your breath catching in your throat as his face hovered closely above yours.

It was happening. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips drew closer. You couldn’t believe it, he was going to kiss you—Spencer-fucking-Reid was going to kiss you.

But just as his lips hovered dangerously close against yours, he suddenly stopped.

"Just to make this clear," he began, running a thumb along your side. "I respect you, both as a friend and a colleague. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with, so if you think this is pushing any boundaries then—"

"Spencer," you cut in. "Just kiss me already."

With a hint of relief and a small smile playing on his lips, he finally closed the gap between you.

You never imagined his lips could be so soft. He had the softest lips that moved against your own with a hint of coffee and something undeniably sweet. Those soft, soft lips parted away from yours for a moment before he leaned back in, more desperate, more needy. And when he swiped your bottom lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, you couldn't help but welcome him with a soft moan of pleasure.

He devoured you then, his tongue pushing eagerly into your mouth, his lips enveloping you with a hunger that left you breathless as he pressed himself against you. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, you were walking backward until your back collided with the solid surface of the desk. 

With strength you didn’t know he possessed, he effortlessly lifted you and perched you on top of it, prompting a surprised squeal to escape your lips. He laughed in response but you were too caught up in the moment to worry about whether he found you amusing. 

Your hands eagerly roamed over his chest, fingers curling around the strap of his vest as you pulled him closer. He slipped between your parted legs with ease and when he pressed his evident bulge against your core, you both gasped in pleasure.

"We should... we should probably stop, right?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your lips. Despite his words, his actions betrayed his self-control as he began to roll his hips against you.

“We're at work, someone might—” He groaned. “Someone might… hear us..."

He was right, but you found yourself unable to care about anything else but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your heat.

"We could stop, or..." you found yourself saying without thinking. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, finding their way between you as you started to unbutton your shirt, the fabric slipping away to reveal more of your skin. 

"Or..." He prompted, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip yet again, his breath coming out in shallow, ragged bursts.

"Or..." you repeated, pushing the front of your shirt open. "We could be quiet."

"We could be quiet," he agreed all too quickly. "We could definitely be quiet."

You let out an amused laugh. "We’re going to get in trouble if anyone finds us."

“Then you shouldn’t make a sound.”

“Me? What about—oh.”

His lips were already trailing down your body, leaving soft kisses as they lingered on your neck, across your collarbone, and then he moved lower, sucking lightly on the swell of your breasts. A whimper of his name escaped your lips, your fingers entwining in his hair.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking at the sight of your breast pushed up against your bra, a glistening sheen of his saliva coating your skin.

“You are stunning,” he murmured, before leaning back in to place a tender kiss on the spot where your collarbone met your shoulder. “How far do you want to take this?”

You blinked, trying to ground yourself into the moment between the lust fogging your brain. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he muttered as he rutted his hips against yours, drawing a needy moan from you. “How far are you willing to go?”

“If you’re asking whether I want to have sex with you, the answer is a hundred percent yes.”

You could practically feel his smile on your skin as he buried himself in the crook of your neck.

“That’s good to know,” he whispered, causing you to arch your back as your chest pressed against the hard material of his vest. “But I don’t think we can do much considering we’re supposed to be working. Well, you at least.”

You grasped his shoulders, pushing him away to meet his gaze. “I thought we agreed to keep quiet.”

“We can keep quiet,” he assured you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “But I can’t rush my time with you. Besides, you deserve a much better setting than an unoccupied office full of dust.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. “Maybe, but it’s more about time, really. I just want to take—” His lips brushed against your cheek. “My time—” A peck on your lips. “With you.”

You melted right there and then. You could’ve sworn you were nothing but a puddle mess. If he wasn’t holding you for support you were sure you could fall right back to the floor.

“Alright then,” you finally said, reaching for the buttons of your shirt with trembling hands only to be stopped as his fingers curled around your wrist.

“What are you doing?”

You shot him a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex right now.”

“I didn’t say anything about stopping,” he replied, releasing your hand before his palms slid up your thighs. “There are plenty of other things we can do.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “Like what?”

“Well, I guess we'll just have to get creative.”

Your breath hitched when his fingers hovered over the button on your pants. You watched with a mix of excitement and disbelief as he started to undo them, your mind turning into a mushy mess. It was as if every neuron in your brain had decided to stop working.

“Lift your hips for me.”

You met his gaze, trying to summon up your composure but you couldn’t help the nervous twitch of your lips. He smiled at you.

“Come on, pretty girl, we don’t have all day.”

Not only were you melting, but you were practically liquid by now. Your body moved on its own accord—your hands gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, synchronizing perfectly with his gentle movements to slide the material over your hips and down your legs.

He placed your pants on the empty space beside you while his eyes never left your body. His gaze lingered on the rise and fall of your chest, and he leaned in, his fingers trailing over your skin before settling on the hem of your panties. His thumb slid to the front, brushing along the delicate material. Your hips bucked as he continued to run his thumb up and down as if he were trying to map out your slick folds over the fabric.

“Look at you dripping,” he mused, his eyes fixated on the way his thumb slid over to your clit. “Are you always this wet?”

Your cheeks heated at the question. He wasn’t even trying to make it come off as dirty talk; he asked it like a normal question, as if he were simply wondering about what you ate for breakfast. But the question alone had your face burning because you did not expect it to come from him.

“I… I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he asked, his tone amused. He hooked his fingers into the material of your panties before pushing it to the side.

“I-I don’t know.” You let out a breathless moan when his fingers grazed your slit. “Whenever I’m turned on, I don’t... I don’t exactly touch myself just to check how wet I am.”

Spencer chuckled softly, angling his hand between your thighs before gently pushing his middle finger into your entrance. You gasped at the sudden stretch, brows furrowing as he pressed further, and your hand instinctively gripped onto his arm.

“Do you often touch yourself?”

Your head fell back as he started to move.

“M-Maybe,” you managed to stutter out.

"What do you think of when you do?" he asked slowly, his own breath starting to grow shallow as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He observed the way your mouth fell open, your tongue slightly slipping out in the corner, and the way your eyes shut closed. He was fascinated by the effect he had on you, on how just a simple touch had you squirming.

“A… a lot of things,” you managed to reply.

“Have you ever thought of me?”

Whoa.

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, momentarily stunned.

This was dangerous territory, but then again, nothing seemed quite as risky as being fingered by your coworker on a Tuesday afternoon. So what harm could it be if you admitted that yes, in fact, he had crossed your mind when you touched yourself wishing it was his fingers instead?

A lot of harm, actually. One, it seemed like an inappropriate confession given your friendship. Friends don't usually imagine each other in sexual scenarios. And two, you could die of embarrassment.

"No," you replied, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

He hummed skeptically. “I thought we were past the point of lying between profilers.” With a pause, he added another finger inside you, causing you to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. “Is this how you imagined it in your fantasies?”

What was the point of lying now? You swallowed hard, trying to think of a witty response to distract from the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

“Uh… This is slightly better.”

“Slightly? I’m hurt.” He pressed his thumb onto your clit. “What else did you think of then?”

Your cheeks flushed even more. “You… well, um, you also used your tongue.”

The airy laugh he let out sent a shiver down your spine. “Really? And how did that fantasy play out?"

Your heart raced as you tried to find the right words. "Let's just say it involved a lot more tongue action and a lot less talking."

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “Then let’s reenact it.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you. “Lay on your back.”

With a shaky breath, you complied, sprawling out on the desk, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. When he reached for the waistband of your panties, you couldn't help but crack a joke. "If I knew this was the direction this day was heading, I would've worn my fanciest underwear."

Spencer shook his head. “Trust me, you don't need fancy underwear to drive me crazy."

He then deftly removed your panties, his movements confident yet tender, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. When the fabric pooled at your ankle, he got down on his knees and parted your legs wider, positioning himself between them.

You watched, anticipation building, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your inner thigh. Then, with a teasing glance, he pressed his lips to your skin, planting soft kisses along the trail of your inner thigh, inching closer to your core.

You shivered at the sensation and your heart raced with every kiss. His hands roamed over your thighs, tracing delicate patterns while his mouth brushed closer to where you craved him the most. You bit down your bottom lip, unable to contain the moan that escaped as his tongue flicked out, grazing your sensitive flesh.

This was definitely better than your fantasies, the ones you'd harbored in secret, too taboo to admit even to yourself. But here you were, living out those desires in the most deliciously real way possible.

You gasped as his tongue lavished your slit, tasting every inch, mixing your arousal that was beginning to drip from your core with his saliva. Your back arched off the desk, thighs trembling and when they threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag over your clit.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Somehow it felt like a dream, but everything was real. His face was right between your thighs; his mouth pressed against your cunt, his tongue lapping through your wet folds. And it wasn’t as simple as tasting you, he was eating you, devouring you, swallowing every drop of your arousal as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste.

You started to lose control of your mind, your body, your actions. Your hips bucked to meet his tongue, your jaw slackening as stifled moans spilled from your lips. And that was when you felt it—a faint vibration against your thigh. At first, you thought it was just the sensation of his touch, but then the loud, unmistakable loud ringtone of your phone shattered the moment.

"Shit!" You squealed, scrambling to grab your phone from your discarded pants. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover you in this compromising position.

"It's Emily—“ You pushed his head away, trying to hide your flushed face as he looked at you with surprise. His lips were glistened with your arousal and his hair seemed messier. God, he looked so pretty.

"Don't answer it."

"It might be important." With a pointed look, you silently urged him to keep quiet as you brought the phone to your ear with trembling fingers. “H-Hey... what's up?"

Emily's voice came through the line, slightly muffled by the sounds of commotion in the background. “Hey, I need you to review the report you submitted yesterday, you left a few details about the Unsub.”

Spencer's lips brushed against your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, and you had to bite back a moan. You shot him a warning glare, mouthing ‘stop’ before turning your attention back to the call.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “So… um, which report?”

"The case in Florida," your boss explained. "You mentioned that the Unsub was targeting women between the ages of 25 and 35…”

You were trying to listen, you really were, but it was hard when you felt his fingers ease into your cunt, your juices dripping out, coating his flesh as he curled them inside. You almost let out a whine as his thumb pressed to your clit, caressing in circular motions. 

“…he's also been stalking younger women."

Your eyes screwed shut as he sped up his pace. His touch was driving you crazy, and you could barely register the conversation over the sounds of your own arousal echoing in the room.

“Y/N.”

You snapped your eyes open, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you tried to concentrate on the call. "Uh, yeah, go on," you managed to stammer, hoping she didn't notice your wavering tone.

“Are you okay? You sound... off," Emily's voice cut through the haze of pleasure. You shot Spencer another pleading look, but he simply smiled at you with a hand still between your thighs and the other slipping underneath your bra.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, fighting against the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "Uh, yeah, I… I-I’m doing my training.”

You mentally cursed yourself for the terrible excuse. Emily didn't seem entirely convinced. "Training?"

"Yeah, you know, the uh... firearm training? I-It’s Tuesday.”

There was a pause on the other end before she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound like you're in pain."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers curled inside of you. "No, no, I'm fine. Just... a little out of breath from all the… shooting."

Spencer let out an incredulous scoff, and you shot him a pointed glare.

“Are you with someone?”

You hesitated, racking your brain for a believable excuse, but all you could muster was a feeble, "Uh, nope.”

There was a pause on the other end, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken as your body flushed with heat. Meanwhile, Spencer seemed intent on torturing you, never stopping his pace. If anything, it seemed like his movements were increasing. Just when you thought you couldn't feel more exposed, another scoff echoed through your ear, this time from Emily.

“Alright, where are you really?” she pressed, her tone indicating she wasn't buying your flimsy excuse.

“I told you I-I’m doing my training.”

She laughed. “Y/N, we profile people as a job. I can sense your lie even through the phone.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. What was up with these profilers and their knack for sniffing out lies? You were one yourself, but apparently, you were no match for their scrutiny.

“I’m not—“ your words were cut short when he stood up, hovering above you. You looked up at him, smiling at you innocently as his fingers continued to curl deep inside you. You clutched his forearm with your free hand, attempting to steady yourself.

"I'm not lying," you managed to squeak out.

"Mhm," came Emily's voice from the other end. “Just come by my office and grab the report, okay?”

Your breath hitched as his fingertips delved deeper, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of his hand moving between your legs, coated in your arousal with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm edging closer. Your hips moved in sync with his motions as the pressure built, the tension coiling tighter in your stomach and—

“Y/N!”

“Y-Yes, I’m… I’m coming.” Spencer's low chuckle filled your ears, and you realized what you'd unintentionally implied. Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “I mean, I-I’ll be there soon, okay, bye!”

You quickly slammed your phone down on the desk, ending the call with a thud. But before you could even take a breath, Spencer's fingers were back to their rapid pace, driving you to the edge of sanity. Your body staggered under his touch, your hips moving in sync with his relentless rhythm, the world outside the room fading away into a blur of pleasure.

"A-Ah—w-wait, fuck—"

You barely managed to utter a protest before his hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure. Your back arched, your head thrown back as you tightened your grip on his wrist, your body writhing beneath him as your orgasm consumed you.

It lasted longer than you expected and Spencer seemed determined to push you over the edge as he shifted his attention from your cunt to your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew momentarily, only to return with a renewed intensity, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Your senses were on overload as you moaned into his hand, the sound muffled but still audible. He worked you, over and over, and you didn't even know your body could take so much. Every stroke, every caress sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, building up to an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as the sensations reached a fever pitch. It was all too much, too intense, and in a moment of desperation, you pushed his hand away. When the last tremors of your orgasm finally faded away, you collapsed back onto the desk, panting heavily, your limbs feeling like jelly. 

Spencer removed his hand from your mouth, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched you catch your breath. “Are you okay?" 

You nodded weakly. “Yeah, just… that was intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Really good intense,” you replied with a sheepish grin, which only made him smile. With shaky hands, you pushed yourself up from the desk, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over you. As you began to dress yourself, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him—or rather, the evident bulge underneath his pants.

“That… that doesn’t look comfortable,” you remarked.

Spencer waved off your worry with a dismissive chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of it myself.”

“Here? At work?” Your eyes widened at the implication. “I didn't know you had it in you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “That’s not what I meant. It’ll eventually go away if I ignore—stop staring at it,” he added with a laugh. “You’re not helping.”

Your gaze lingered a moment too long on his bulge. "I can think of another way to help.”

Spencer's breath caught in his throat, his imagination running wild with possibilities, but he quickly regained his composure. "Go," he said, gently nudging you towards the door once you were properly dressed. "Emily's waiting for you."

Your eyes swept over him and a wave of awkwardness suddenly washed over you. What was the protocol after experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life? Shake his hand? Give him a high-five? You couldn't help but stifle a nervous laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

After a brief moment of contemplation, you decided to trust your instincts. With a hint of hesitation, you stepped closer and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, you were already rushing to the door.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched you leave, a tingling sensation lingering on his cheek where your lips had briefly touched. But as he licked his lips absentmindedly, he couldn't shake the taste of your arousal that lingered there.

Groaning softly, he shifted uncomfortably as his mind filled with vivid images of you squirming under him; your mouth agape, eyes half-closed, your pretty legs spread apart. The memory of your moans echoed in his ears and his cock stirred in his pants. 

He sighed, realizing he was in for a long day if he didn't do something about it. With a slight grimace—and the embarrassment gnawing at him for what he was about to do—he let his feet carry him to the nearest bathroom.

[ravens-two]

PAC: How will the aftercare be like 18+

This reading includes:

how the aftercare will be like

The extended reading includes:

what you'll think/feel after sex

what your person will think/feel after sex

Disclaimer: this is just for entertainment purposes, and as a pick-a-card reading it may not resonate for everyone. Also, this content is 18+ only!

TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC

Pile 1

Seven of Pentacles, Page of Swords - White Light

Hi pile 1, the first thing I'm getting is that you're probably going to feel very tired after sex. Perhaps one of you falls asleep quickly. I'm even seeing that for some of you, you might take a nap and then cuddle and talk after that.

This pile seems to feel really connected to their partner after sex. It's like you two are on the same wavelength and can understand each other perfectly during this moment. I think that despite this tiredness that came up, you two are going to talk a lot after sex. There will be a lot of pillow talk. I just got the words "performance review" lmao, so you two might talk about what you enjoyed or didn't enjoy. Maybe even what you'd want to try next.

In general though, this is such a sweet pile. I see a lot of cuddling, holding each other, soft kisses and caressing each other. There's a funny energy here because it seems that one of you is very practical and pragmatic, like wanting to clean up and sleep because you need to wake up early the next day, while the other is romantic and dreamy and just wants to hold on to their partner for a little longer.

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Pile 2

Ten of Pentacles, Three of Swords - Phoenix

Pile 2, with the Phoenix card here sex with this person is a very intense experience for you, almost transformative. It's almost as if you feel like you get broken down and then put back together again, stronger. For some of you this could even be related to BDSM or a rougher type of sex that needs some more attentive aftercare. I get that there may be physical pain here that somehow helps with any emotional pain that you may be going through.

Your person will take very good care of you. They will be so gentle and loving with helping you to clean up and make sure that you're not hurt. I see them talking a lot to you, making sure to get verbal confirmation that you're alright. They're also very loving with their words, telling you how much they enjoyed it, how well you did, etc.

During sex your partner might have been a bit "mean" to you, so it's important for them to reestablish a loving connection with you again. They will want to hold you in their arms and make sure that you feel safe and loved. In general, this pile is very, very intense and you might be crying after sex.

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Pile 3

King of Swords, Four of Pentacles - Shoots

Pile 3, the energy here is slightly colder in comparison to the other piles. Your partner seems to be a bit more distant or not so emotional as they usually are after sex. They seem like the kind of person who withdraws a little bit to process their emotions and feelings. Still, your partner has a big caregiving energy. Not to be weird but this is daddy energy, to be honest.

Your partner seems like the kind of person that is more worried about your physical needs, rather than emotional. I see them bringing you food and water, helping you to clean up. With the King of Swords here too there's this energy that your partner is trying their best to be fair and make sure that you're feeling good, but most importantly that they made you feel good. They seem like the type of person who wants reassurance about their performance.

Something just a little unrelated but this pile seems very fertile, if you or your partner can get pregnant please be careful with that. This emotional distance might also be because this relationship is still in its early stages and your connection is still growing. I can see that it grows stronger every time.

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Pile 4

Six of Swords, Three of Wands - Time

Hey pile 4, your partner seems like someone who isn't used to aftercare or someone who tends to "run away" after sex. They might have a bit of trouble in being vulnerable at first, it takes them time to open up and adapt to your needs. For some of you though, it's your person that needs more aftercare than you or it may be you who does more aftercare naturally. I have a sense that, in general, your partner is exhausted, maybe emotionally, after sex.

For others, your partner leaves you absolutely exhausted. Sex is probably very long-winded and your partner always wants to go again and again. They only stop when you physically can't keep up. Because of this they may end up giving you massages or massaging certain parts of your body that are sore. I'm seeing mostly hips and back.

Your partner also seems like they're the type of person who wants to bask in the afterglow. You know in the movies with the guys kicking back with a cigarette? That sort of vibe. Well, they may actually want to smoke afterwards. No matter what, your person doesn't want loose that feeling of calm and relaxation. They won't want to talk about anything too deep or potentially upsetting.

Check out the extended reading on patreon

[general-cyno]

I'm caught up with manga rn so I wanted to share a few thoughts (ramblings) on egghead arc zolu too. first, this convo after the crew leave wano and find out abt what's gone down in the reverie, and wrt to vivi specifically,

I do agree with some stuff I've seen about how using ace here as an example was not exactly the best one since we know how that ended up. that said, I think it's lowkey sweet that zoro still remembers so clearly what luffy said back then and well, he's not entirely wrong.

as I've mentioned in other posts before, zoro takes the crew and his own role in it very seriously. these are his companions, his friends and family I daresay, and part of his duty as both crewmate and friend includes keeping them all check and safe whenever it's needed. especially luffy, as we've seen in different occasions (water 7, thriller bark, punk hazard, wano, just to name some arcs with relevant moments related to this). storming into marijoa, THE world government/navy stronghold, without any information and/or plan whatsoever is a bad idea all around.

luffy may be impulsive and stubborn at times, but he isn't really an idiot and he knows zoro's right even if he doesn't like it. hence this:

ngl I love how grumpy luffy is at zoro here. these two are usually on a similar wavelength but there are key moments where their approach to things differ, and it ultimately works bc it's kind of... a complementary thing. making up for what the other lacks or needs to hear in those moments. I believe they bicker relatively less than other straw hats do in comparison (precisely bc of how similar they are imo) but it's funny when it actually happens. I can so easily picture luffy here fuming and stomping like a brat also being seconds away from asking for a divorce

this one's perhaps on a more delulu note on my part, but I like that zoro brought up ace in specific bc he was there both times when ace and sabo asked the crew to take care of luffy. it was curious to me that in the former case, zoro was kinda shown with this "!" reaction sign and later when it came to sabo in dressrosa, he was the one to fondly point out he sounded just like ace did in alabasta (and the "!" is back).

(the fact that sabo handed zoro luffy's vivre card there also lives in my mind rent free btw)

so yeah. zoro's definitely not one to mess around when it comes to the crew and luffy's safety, though he may get a handful of grumpy straw hats (captain included!) for it.

another thing, and do bear with me bc I might be reaching once again is... the break up flashback between shanks and buggy. I pretty much forgot to make a post about water 7/enies lobby zolu bits (too busy crying over robin, I admit) but this actually reminded me of it.

the context and personalities involved differ from each other, yeah, but I believe this shows exactly how easily it could've been for luffy and zoro to have a bad ending of sorts under different circumstances.

I can't say for sure how much of whiskey peak was intended to affect zoro and luffy's relationship later in the manga (I personally find some parts of it kinda goofy), but it at least served as an early example that they're not immune to suffering from misunderstandings and miscommunication issues. though unlike shanks/buggy, the fact that they're more similar than they're different and their differences tend to complement each other's likely works more in zoro and luffy's favor. still,

if luffy hadn't listened to zoro here - if he'd failed to stay true to what's expected of him as the captain (and being the captain is related to his journey to become the pirate king), to stay true to the kind of man zoro believes him to be and that he chose to join in that marine base, we could've had a similar scenario to shanks and buggy's imo. more so when you consider that zoro's as headstrong as luffy is, that he's been mistaken for the captain and now has turned out to have the color of the supreme king too. hell, zoro used to be a bounty hunter, is still called the pirate hunter. I don't believe it'd be easy for zoro to leave despite what he says, or that they'd become enemies per se, but it isn't (or wasn't) out of the realm of possibilities. zoro has admitted that he sees no point in being a pirate unless he's part of luffy's crew as well.

as it is, the fact that luffy values zoro's imput and listens to him whenever the need arises is such an important part of their relationship. as loyal as zoro may be, as great as his displays of that loyalty are, they only exist bc luffy cares for him just as much and has earned them through his actions. I love it!

last thing before this gets too long is this:

the mobile app's pic upload limit is my enemy so I can't share it but I also liked the page before this one, where luffy asks zoro if he needs some help, to which zoro tells him to focus on kizaru instead.

this is such a great showcase of how much they've grown in terms of strength - that zoro can take on one of pre-timeskip luffy's strongest foes now, and that luffy himself is no longer unable to do anything against enemies like kizaru. and yknow, I find it special that luffy can go against him now considering kizaru was the one who almost killed zoro in sabaody - one of those instances in which luffy was genuinely worried, upset and feared for zoro's safety to the point he was actually all teary when rayleigh managed to save him.

I would've liked to see zoro's reaction to nika!luffy since he was knocked out in wano when it first happened, but I suppose he's already seen the wanted poster and his lack of reaction now isn't that out of character probably. godly power up or not, that's still his silly gremlin captain ig. can't wait to see what else is in store for these guys in this arc and onwards!

[1emon1ime]

A routine check-up - Dr. Cornelius (1960's POTA) x Female Reader

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58315063

( Ok, so I just HAD to write this because I couldn't find anyone else who made one yet. He is so hot-- !? And I have always sort of loved the idea of being a powerless/mute/feral human where another species has all of the control. Anyway, enjoy!

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warning: Pet play (kind of?), dubcon, power imbalance, regression etc basically you (reader) are a mute/feral human who cannot consent and the ape leaders have all of the power over you. But you enjoy being touched up by Corn ♡

Taken from the wild and housed in the human containment facility, you now live your life in a cage every day to be experimented on by apes. A new face comes to take you into the examination room and he is quite different from the others.

"I'm here for specimen number 37."

The guards nod in acknowledgement, recognizing the name of Cornelius. He responds, "Zira has informed us of your visit for a routine check-up. Proceed with your research, and be careful with the specimen."

Cornelius approaches the cage and carefully opens it, his movements slow and deliberate to avoid alarming you. He gestures for you to come out.

Baring your teeth at him, you slowly back up into a corner. He is unfamiliar and many of the apes in the human containment facility are abusive, uncaring for your well-being. Of course you would be distrustful of a new face.

Since your capture, you had been housed here, alone in your pen for several months now, your naked body only kept clean by an ape hosing you down every day, throwing some slop into your food dish. You had no mental stimulation apart from the few times a week where they would put you through some sort of 'test'. You hated these check-ups, you were not ready to hand yourself over to him without a fight, even though you knew that punishment would come at your resistance. It always did.

He stops his approach, recognizing the defensiveness nature of your reaction. He regards you with a mixture of caution and fascination, sensing your instinctive distrust.

"Easy now," he speaks, keeping his voice gentle and calm. "I'm not here to harm you.” 

Truthfully, he did not care much for these creatures. From an early age, he had been taught that they were nothing more than pests, vicious animals. But there was a striking resemblance in the recent fossilized remains that he had discovered. Cornelius just had to compare the two. Zira had offered one of her test subjects as a comparison, she had said that this one was quite ‘tame’, agreeable, with a willingness to work and yet Cornelius still could not coax you out of the cage. Had he gotten the wrong subject, perhaps?

He offers you a sugar cube, notices how you hesitate for a moment before cautiously taking it. He observes your reaction, glad that the sugar seems to have piqued your interest.

"There," he hushes, a hint of a smile on his lips. "See? I'm not going to hurt you.” 

You look back at him, eyes widening slightly in anticipation for what he had to offer.

“I'll make sure you're comfortable and unharmed during this examination." He says, more to himself than anything. He knows that humans cannot speak. Cannot understand complex language.

The gorilla guard in the back smirks at his failed attempts to lure you out. Clearly, the archaeologist hadn't much experience with these humans.

"You gotta be rough with them. Never give these animals a chance or they will attack you." He laughs.

Cornelius brushes off the guard's comment and moves closer to you, holding out his hand. He had his own technique, he never liked how brutal the guards could be. They may have been animals, but they could still feel pain.

"Come on, then," he coaxes. "Let's go to the examination room, and I'll make sure you get another sugar cube when we're done."

He carefully places a collar and leash around your neck, ensuring that it's not too tight and won't harm you. He then leads you to his examination room, taking a few moments to assess the setup before turning to face you. 

"Alright," he says, gesturing for you to sit on a padded table in the centre of the room. "Please sit,” he pats the table, you recognize the signal as you had been taught. “and we can begin this comparison."

All he has is a leash around your neck, he hopes that it is enough and that he wouldn't need to restrain you further--

Your eyes dart to the other, larger examination table to the left, that you had been placed on many times. The one with the straps and restraints attached to it; you cower upon seeing it. Unwanted memories flooding of all the times you had been under that blinding, florescent light. Head throbbing as they tugged at you, the sound of medical equipment clinking together-- It was too much to see it again.

You wanted to run, but he reassured you, calmly. gripping onto one of your arms and shushing you.

We will only be sitting on the small table today.

As you sit, nervously, Cornelius takes a few steps back and studies your features, particularly focusing on your facial structure and bone anatomy. He occasionally looks over a set of documents and diagrams next to him, presumably related to the fossilized remains he mentioned earlier.

Dr. Zaius would scold him again if he ever brought it up; he had been told to discard the evidence, burn it. Acknowledging that similar these humans were in any way to apes themselves. It was forbidden by all means.

They were lesser. Pests, animals. 

"Now then," he says, breaking the silence. "Let me take a quick look at your teeth."

Cornelius moves closer to you again, his focus now shifting to your teeth. He takes hold of your chin, gently and carefully guiding your head to the side so he can get a better look. His fingers are warm and surprisingly gentle as they touch your skin, his touch almost comforting in a small way.

"Open wide," he instructs, his voice still soft but authoritative. He taps his own mouth and again, you understand the gesture you had been taught to obey.

Cornelius peers into your mouth, examining your teeth closely. He looks at their shape, size, and condition, comparing them to the notes he's taking. He makes a few observations, nodding in acknowledgement.

"That's it, good--" 

Cornelius' eyes quickly flit over your body, taking quick note of your sex.

"girl. Good girl."

He reaches for his papers again.

"Ah, a female specimen," he muses to himself, making a quick note. "The physical features and bone structures are slightly different than the males we've discovered."

After finishing his examination of your teeth, Cornelius steps back again, his gaze lingering on your features. He takes a few more moments to scrutinize your body, careful eyes tracing over the curves and features that distinguish you as a female. Contemplating the differences and similarities he's observed between you and the fossilized remains and of… himself. 

No, no. He quickly brushes it off. He is to remain professional here at all costs. 

"Now, I need to look at the rest of your physical features," he says, his voice slightly firmer. "Please stand up and extend your arms." He makes the command signal.

You comply and stand up, slowly extending your arms as Cornelius instructed. He steps closer once again, moving slowly as to not startle you. He begins to observe and compare the proportions and bone structures of your arms.

"Hmm," he muses, his eyes fixed on your arms, taking out a measuring tape to record the length of the bones. "Yes, quite interesting. The humerus and ulna seem quite similar in length, although--"

There is one problem. The fossils he had, seemed to be from a male specimen. It would have made more sense to compare them with a male human.

Had he perhaps taken the wrong subject? It said here on his documents, number 37. They couldn't have gotten it messed up again--

Well, it was too late to discard all of this now. He would finish examining your body and take records anyway. Perhaps they would prove useful in the future.

He takes a few steps back again, his expression contemplative. A strong, muscular frame, fitting for survival in the wild. You had not been captive long enough for your muscles to atrophy, as a lot of the other human animals had.

That is where you had been caught, out in the fields, brought in from the wild several months ago. The tale of your capture had been quite brutal and yet, you were not as skittish as the other wild-caught ferals.

Despite the clinical nature of the examination, there is a subtle hint of admiration and intrigue in Cornelius' gaze. He regards your  body with a mix of scientific curiosity and appreciation for the rarity of finding a specimen like you.

"Alright," he says, breaking the brief silence. "We're almost done. I just need to take a look at your back and spinal region next."

As Cornelius moves behind you to examine your spine, he notices your slight shiver at his touch. He realizes that despite your feral nature, there is an undeniable response to his touch.

"Are you cold?" he asks, his voice gentler than before. "Or is my touch making you uncomfortable?"

Cornelius knows that he will get no response, yet reassures you anyway, continuing to gently feel your back and spine. He notes the subtle trembling at his touch as his hands ghost over the area that connects your spine to your neck. He wonders if it's related to fear, cold, or perhaps another reaction he hasn't considered.

Observing your subtle response, he notices how you seem to lean into his touch, almost seeking it out. He raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your behavior. Despite your feral nature, there's a certain sensuality in your reaction to his touch.

"Interesting," he muses, his hands continuing to move over your neck, rubbing circles, as if you were a pet. "It seems you're not as resistant to physical touch as I thought."

He continues his examination, but his touch becomes a bit less clinical and more... soothing. He can't help but be intrigued by your reaction, the way you close your eyes and nod, seemingly enjoying the contact. His fingers move over your skin, the touch growing a bit more gentle and caressing.

"Does this feel good?" he asks, his tone softer than before. "You're remarkably responsive for a feral."

He knows that he shouldn't be doing this, it's wrong to treat these animals in any way other than contempt, they can't even consent, for goodness sake. But he can't stop his fingers continuing to caress you, running under your chin and stroking you softly. His touch slowly becoming more intimate and less clinical. Despite the professional aspect of the examination, there is something almost erotic in the way he touches you.

His hands begin to explore your back further, moving from your shoulders down to the small of your back, his touch growing more gentle. He can't deny the sensations he feels, the way you respond to his touch stirring something in him.The little mewls you let escape your mouth as he runs his hands over your bare flesh.

"Such a responsive and sensual creature..." he says to himself, his voice a low rumble. 

Cornelius' hand continues to move lower, his touch now trailing over your thighs. He takes note of your low moan, a wave of heat coursing through him at the sound.

"Sensitive, too," he murmurs under his breath, fingers gently caressing your flesh. "I believe we're going to need to continue this examination further."

Cornelius steps closer to you, the heat of his body radiating against your back as his hands explore your front. What is he doing, he doesn't think he can stop himself at this point. His hand remains on your thigh, his touch now becoming more deliberate and exploratory. His breath is hot against your ear, causing you to shiver slightly.

"There's more I need to examine," he says, his voice low and sultry. There's a sense of urgency to it. "Turn around for me."

Cornelius steps back and motions you to face him, giving a slight tug on your leash. His hand leaves your thigh, but the absence of his touch is quickly replaced by a strange sense of anticipation. 

You wonder what he could possibly be doing... None of your previous examinations had gone quite like this. While Dr. Zira could be quite... touchy, something told you that this was going to be different still.

He watches you expectantly, his eyes locked on yours, waiting to continue the "examination".

As you face him from the front, Cornelius feels a rush of excitement surging through him. The way you respond to his touch... it's unlike anything he's experienced with any other specimen before.

"Now," he says, his voice gruff and filled with a hint of desire. "I need to examine the front of your body."

Cornelius closes the distance between you and he. His hand reaches out slowly and gently grasps your hips, pulling your body closer to his own. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and arousal. He continues to explore your body with his hands, his touch becoming more familiar as he moves down to your stomach, hips, and thighs. His fingers linger on certain spots, caressing and squeezing gently, as though trying to commit every curve and muscle to memory.

He notices your squeak when he accidentally touches a particularly sensitive spot, and a small smile curves his lips. He can't help but sense your craving for touch, the need for physical contact that was previously lacking in your caged, solitary existence.

"A little sensitive there, are we?" he says, his voice amused, but not mocking. 

His hands continue to move over your body, slowly and deliberately, as though he's trying to coax more responses from you. He notices the way you lean into his touch, the way your body reacts to his caresses.

"You seem to be quite... touch deprived," he says, his voice dropping to a deep, low murmur. "You must have been longing for physical contact like this, hmm?"

As Cornelius explores your body, the air grows thicker with tension. You can feel his desire radiating from him, and the intensity of his gaze only heightens the anticipation. You can't deny your own arousal, the heat and need building within you. The touch you had been denied for so long.

His hands slowly trail up to your chest, cupping your breasts in his palms. He squeezes gently, his thumbs teasing your nipples, coaxing them into stiff peaks. He notices the way your breathing changes, the way your body responds to his touch.

He continues to tease your nipples, his fingers gently pinching and rolling them, eliciting more responses from you. He's enthralled by your reaction, the way you push yourself into his hands, your eyes closed and lips parted in pleasure.

"Do you like that?" he asks, his voice rough. "Does it feel good?"

You nod, offering a silent acceptance.

Cornelius' hand moves lower, his fingers slowly travelling down your stomach and then lower, until they're dipping between your thighs. He strokes your folds, feeling the slickness there. He slips a finger inside you, feeling the heat and tightness, and a small groan escapes your lips, hips instinctively bucking forward for more.

"So tight," he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours as he pushes a second finger in.

His fingers continues to probe and explore, his movements slow and deliberate. He pushes deeper inside you, and you let out a moan, unable to hold back. As he works his fingers in and out of you, you can't help but writhe against him, desperate for more friction.

As he continues his exploration of your body, the air thick with arousal, you're overwhelmed by the sensations. Cornelius' hand is between your legs, his fingers buried inside you, working you closer and closer to the edge. You're so close, the tension building in your core, and all it takes is a few more thrusts of his fingers and a brush of his thumb over your clit to send your touch deprived body spiralling over the edge. 

Your release crashes over you in waves, and Cornelius is there to guide you through it, his fingers slowly withdrawing, but his embrace is still firm.

"That's it," he says, his voice gentle and encouraging. "Just let go. I've got you."

After a few moments, you're able to catch your breath and compose yourself. Cornelius is holding you, his body pressed close to yours. His grip loosens and his hands slide down your sides, resting on your hips.

Cornelius finally releases you, and takes a step back, still holding the leash in one hand, his eyes sweep over your body for the final time.

"We'll continue later," he says, his voice low and heavy with promise. "You should get some rest. Come on, back to your pen."

[ominosus]

pray tell — fem!reader x ominis gaunt

summary: older fem!reader x ominis gaunt — you find yourself cornered by Ominis in the ministry of magic. Ominis revels in the effect he has on you and how he makes you squirm by his mere presence. Love/hate, powerplay.

warnings: a little teas never hurt, right? kind of kissing, but not really at all (sadly)... insinuating explicit things, but (alas) nothing too explicit

”Really?” he quickly countered. ”Pray tell, y/n.” he spoke quietly.

Ominis leaned back against his black, wooden desk. Peering at her, he folded up his sleeves, revealing strained veins climbing up his arms towards his neck. His bright hair reflected the soft and unearthly light in the room, almost glowing, and his otherwise perfect hairdo looked somewhat disheveled after a long day's work. 

He didn’t leave any wiggle room for her to find a way out of the situation she found herself in — quarreling in her lank-luring-longtime-friend-turned-colleague's office in the ministry of magic, again... Like many times before, he’d cornered her. She didn't understand why she put herself in these situations. The arguments were more often than not completely irrelevant, but she insisted on them, sought them out, sought him out. He'd always gotten on her nerves, always being so composed in comparison to her. She burned quickly while he burned slowly. Sebastian and she were similar in that sense, which is why they got along so well. Always up to something mischievous, Ominis always being there to get them out of trouble. She envied him for his tact, almost compelled by it. She huffed: growing flustered and frustrated as she sensed a growing loss of words forming in the back of her head. His foggy eyes seemed to cloud her head completely as he peered over at her. Even if blind, he saw right through her.

She scavenged for a weak spot, anything to even out the playing field a little, but only found herself at dead ends. Ominis stared at her shrewdly, tucking his hands in his pockets. She knew he knew she was struggling and she cursed him for it. He drove her insane without even having to do anything. He just stood there, cooly, composure fully intact, observing her every move, letting her own words and actions ricochet back at her. He just listened as she created her own trap; feeling her squirm slightly where she stood; the air shifting around her, hearing her heart pound faster. He knew very well that he was the puppeteer in this play, but she moved so perfectly under his threads. Credit where credit’s due, he thought as he adjusted himself, clearing his throat slightly. ”Good gracious, y/n. You’re not usually this quiet…” he spoke, somewhat maliciously — feigning boredom, and he was right, she had fallen quiet as she stood looking at him. He could feel her frustation with him grow as he started to turn his back on her, making him tug at his lip. However, there was still some fight in her as she opened her mouth...

”It’s odd, really… For someone who’s proclaimed themselves to be against all things sinister… you do take a wicked pride in torturing me, Gaunt.” she finally retorted, putting emphasis on her last word. She sounded more like a spoilt child than an adult trying to hold their ground. Ominis huffed out a soft chuckle as he shook his head, turning to her. "Perhaps the apple doesn't fall from the tree after all." he teased back. "Careful now, love. Should we really whip out the aces in our sleeves this early in the evening, using surnames, and… what not...” he spoke leisurely, amused at her meagre attempt for power. Making her cheeks burn red. He could hear her laugh rather meekly in front of him, bordering closer to insanity, before she started fumbling for a clever comeback, tripping on her own words. He knew she despised him for how he made her behave around him, how he made her feel — he loved how he made her feel: vulnerable, starved, impatient. All things she desperately worked so hard not to be. While she was otherwise used to being in control, and always having the upper hand, as well as being the one with the quick remarks — she met her match when she met Ominis. A match she for once feared she might not win.

Ominis let out a soft and relaxed sigh as he listened to her digging herself deeper. She paused at his sly demeanor and huffed out a short breath, annoyed that a relaxed sigh was all it took for him to make her look even more feeble in comparison — she was having a hard time knowing when to accept defeat. The faintest of smirks lurked on Ominis lips. He stood up slightly straighter, slowly making his way closer to her. Shaking his head slightly as he narrowed the space in between them, as if telling her off. She shrunk where she stood, her words growing into small dots before they dissolved entirely. His presence pushed her to move backwards, as if strong forces were moving against each other. He sighed and took a couple steps closer, making her step backwards into a bookshelf having no more space left to go. The pounding of her chest had travelled up to her head now and she couldn’t think clearly at all looking up at the pale eyes peering down at her. Fixating on a vein on Ominis neck she felt her stomach churn as she saw how it pulsated, steadily, hypnotizing. There was this burning sensation clawing up her throat that she feared could consume her completely if she were to open her mouth even the slightest – so she gulped down hard, simultaneously growing tense and soft as a puddle as the feeling landed somewhere in her stomach instead. Ominis slowly started to lean down. The smirk still resting on his lips. His breath reached the soft skin of her cheeks. ”I do.” he whispered steadily into her ear, while her composure was faltering at a steady pace. ”I do take pride in torturing you…” he repeated, lingering on every word so that he would make himself very clear, moving slightly closer. ”-and do you know what the best part of it is?” he asked, eyebrows slightly raised as he peered at her. His misty eyes looked straight at her, sending a shiver down her spine. She knew it was a rhetorical question. He was toying with her. She frowned at him, frustrated and mad at the effect he had on her, but mostly mad at herself for allowing his fangs to sink so deep into her and ashamed for wanting them to sink deeper. "Cocky, are we?" she blurted out rather meekly in the space between them as an attempt to sound as if she was fully in control, earning a low chuckle from Ominis. She felt a pit underneath her feet widen at the sound of his crow, as if it would swallow her whole. Ominis shook his head again. "Well, wouldn't you like to know." he spoke slowly. She mustered up the last willpower she could find and turned her head slightly closer towards Ominis who mimicked her. He could feel her heaving. "Well... pray tell, then, Ominis. What's the best part of torturing me?" she finally spoke through gritted teeth making him grin with his this time at the sound of his name on her lips. Leaning even closer he felt her rosy lips brush against his ever so slightly. An involuntary gasp left her lips as she felt him close in on her, his warm breath against her, his lips moving the air around them. Tingles fell like raindrops from her head to her toes, bouncing back and forth in her chest, making her feel positively delirious.

”The best part is that you enjoy it.” 

[wolfsetfree-if]

I have some questions about omegas when they go feral so please bear with me.

-how much control over it does the omega have? Both in triggering it and during it.

-is it only triggered when pups are endangered? Can it be triggered if a pack in general or the wolf themselves are in danger no matter the presence of pups?

-can it be triggered by perceived danger like a panic attack or ptsd?

-how dangerous exactly is a feral omega? Like obviously it makes them more aggressive but does it make them stronger or tougher in any way? Is it comparable to adrenaline, allowing the omega to push their body to their true limits?

-with the adrenaline comparison does it suppress pain in the same way? When it ends does it have the same sort of crash, leaving the omega tired, sore, and in pain, etc?

-when does it end? Is it a matter of time? So even if a battle is quickly won you still have a pissed-off omega that needs to run through the woods for a while? Or does it end when the omega feels the danger has passed?

-can anything calm down an omega early?

-are there any other instincts that are triggered by it? Like feeling extra protective or clingy of any pups soon after or other behavioral changes?

-and more of a general question about omegas. Besides being generally more submissive but able to fight and protect if need be, what else about omegas makes them particularly well-suited to pup care? Like obviously they have a particular draw to them but are they especially tuned on to the needs of pups? Perhaps they have some herding instinct for rounding up excited pups? Maybe their larger size allows them to carry multiple pups on their back?

Thank you for taking a look at my questions! I hope it's not to much but the worldbuilding in this game is utterly fascinating to me!

Hello, thank you so much for this ask! It is very interesting and it was a delight to answer.

So, Omegas basically go into rage mode only to defend pack members, weaker/injured ones or pups. It may be triggered by life or death situation for the omega, too. (Omega MC did go into rage when they were captured and decimated the djinns that eventually managed to capture them. But MC at that time was malnourished and suffering from loneliness and overall sick).

It may, theoretically, be triggered by a very vivid and intense panic attack, though it is a rare occurance- mainly because not many werewolves end up as traumatised as MC is.

The situation must be incredibly stressful for it to be triggered, and it isn't something that happens at will. The wolf might feel their ears ring, their body heat up or tingle, and they might shake, and then their minds kind of go blank as they rage.

The rage makes them stronger, faster, overall a killing machine. Like adrenaline but tenfold in effect. And yes, most of the time the rage doesn't end until the Omega is absolutely exhausted and cannot even stand. It does help with pain, but as you theorised the pain later comes back (though mostly the omega is barely coherent after a rage). Just if the omega was injured - which is difficult to do with a feral one.

The rage ends when the threat ends, but since those are triggered by very severe threats, oftentimes as I said the wolf is injured or barely able to stand after the rage. If they are not, they experience a 'crash' that leaves them dizzy, confused, aggressive but very weak.

(More in part 2!)

[itsdeniini]

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SUNGHOON'S TWIN FLAME - A TAROT READING

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🫧‧₊˚⋅ n ¤ t ə ⋆ : : i am a self-taught tarot reader, and the interpretations i provide are personal. if anyone would like to share their own insights, i would be more than happy to hear them! please be kind <3

★2: in this reading, I will be talking about a person from the future and how their relationship will progress at the moment when they are already know each other; that's the twin flame that he's yet to meet. 👾

GENERAL READING ︻╦╤─

The Sun, The Emperor, The Star, Queen of Wands, 8 of Pentacles, The Chariot, The Tower, The High Priestess

There's an unmistakably regal air to this person. Yes, that's the first thing that came to mind, because she's literally exuding the vibes of a royalty. A 𖤓 Leo perhaps? She's carrying herself as a noble with dignity, and it's not only this but also the fact that she's conceited. Leos have a reputation for being conceited, but let's think AGAIN 🤓☝️ Leos do feel important, but it's usually because they want to change the world in some way to make it a better place. In our case, our twin flame is motivated by affection for people and often has big dreams and plans to make people happy. She is hard-working. After all, she is attracted to the good things in life and knows she has to work to get them, something she is doing at the moment. She most surely works in entertainment, just as Sunghoon, but in a different direction. She's quite emotive, so I bet she's an actress or a presenter.

But one thing about her is that she was not always a go-getter typa girl. In those past ~2-3 years she was in a languid mood that put her career under some sort of limitation. She used to sleep in, laze around, and luxuriate for long periods of time. However, this year she seems to have pulled herself together and gotten to work, and she's doing it with new determination and intensity. She's still early in her career, so I can suppose she's 20–23 years old. She tends to blow up and create herself a new image, and the fact that she's versatile enough to do that will help her thrive. Now (before too, I think) she is staring in something thriller-like with a lot of action, and she likes this genre so much. I got reminded of Sunghoon's acting in the UNTOLD Concept Cinema and his gun scene, and with that, I mean that she's having similar roles where she's the mean girl that has bad blood with the antagonist. And she fits in SO GOOD, her acting agenda is 🤌... Investigation drama? Yes. Something post-apocalyptic? Yes. Detective? Mhm! She also has experience playing in romance/teen romance movies/television series, so again, she must be extremely driven to stare in as many movies this year and get that bag in.

The worst thing you can do to her is accuse miss twin flame of bad intentions. Displaying behavior that makes her think you don't appreciate her runs a close second! She might become mighty hurt and pouty when others (especially her lover, so take notes Sunghoon ✍️) don't see her for the noble intentions she has.

And something I wanted to point out! In my Could Sunghoon date a foreigner post, the anon mentioned that they see Sunghoon as a Korean guy with traditional views on life, and as I said, he's not that traditional, at least in comparison to THIS young lady who has fixed views and may also appear conservative. She'll hold on to situations and people for a very long time before giving up completely, while Sunghoon is more of a "Meh, I'm done with A, B, and C... with all of them!"

And just as I thought, she's both idealistic and perfectionist, just like Sunghoon! She has a very noble inner code that she answers to. Although she appears rather confident on the surface, she can also be humble. She is the first to blame herself when something goes wrong. Once again, it's her self-importance at work, and this characteristic works in unexpected ways. Instead of being the conceited, self-absorbed show-offs of reputation, she can be very self-aware, self-conscious, and, yes, even humble.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡ So that's what we have so far...

Positive traits: She is masterful, brave, and competitive; she likes authority; and she aspires toward an ideal. She likes to give advice. She is honest, frank, loyal, open, and sincere. Possible issues: pride, vanity, arrogance, presumption, and disdain for others.

And from the Sun we go to the Moon... ☾𖤓

The Fool, The Knight of Wands, The Wheel of Fortune, The Page of Swords, 8 of Wands, Temperance, 3 of Cups, 7 of Swords

Sunghoon's ☾ is in Aquarius, and since they're quite similar, I can presume that it's the same thing for her, but I'm more inclined towards her being a Sagittarius ☾. ☾ Sagittarians, just like ☾ Aquarians, need personal freedom and space. She is extraordinarily happy and easygoing, as long as she doesn't feel caged in or cooped up. Also, Sagittarians have a simultaneous need for activity. Meeting new people, going out in the world, or traveling are all important to their well-being. She loves open spaces and, in her house, a roomy and bright environment. Eh, this girlie 😭 She easily forgets appointments or veers from her schedules, a bit irresponsible, hehe~ However, it is hard to stay angry at her for that! She is just too cheerful and upbeat while working with the crew, and her optimism is catchy. So outdoorsy! At the very least, she has a great love for friendly competition. When she gets tough, she gets moving. She doesn't like to be caught up in routine for too long, and she needs frequent escapes. She's such a dreamer as well <3 There's a blind faith that is admirable; she believes that everything will ultimately work out. She is not much for making detailed plans; she prefers to wing it and deal with whatever comes her way when it comes. She's very adaptable and generally on the go.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡ So what do we have now...

Positive traits: May like to throw herself into the unknown and into adventure; she is agile, tough, and enthusiastic. Attracted to long trips or discovering the unknown, she has a need for escape or flight and room for spontaneity. Possible issues: May take great risks by throwing herself into the unknown. Audacious, bold, and rebellious. Unable to stay in one place, she was always ready to risk everything to achieve her goal.

PERSONAL STYLE ! >.<

1. Vibrant maxi dress with bold patterns, statement earrings, comfortable sandals.

2. Tailored bright-colored blazer, casual tee, distressed jeans, standout necklace.

3. Jumpsuit, bangles, stylish yet comfortable shoes.

[ 𖹭 approximative representation ↗ and face card ⁀➴ˎˊ˗ ]

[takeyourcyanide]

imaginary fic game: crossstitch and 'starving'

It had been brewing between them since the moment they truly connected, since the very moment they had seen the depths of one another’s souls, each path and circumstance, each blood-soaked secret, and decided to love what they’d seen of their dissections of one another; something, for once, managing to be foreign to the both of them- even despite Spirit’s frequent escapades. Spirit desperately and frantically tried to ignore the gravity which seemed to keep them orbiting one another, endlessly drawing them in to each other- though recently, it had seemed much more like he was the one orbiting Stein, living in his world, aching when he couldn’t appease his every wish and absolve him of the agony he was born into. He’d leave all night to drink with and fuck anything that didn’t look even somewhat masculine, smirking arrogantly and obnoxiously at his fellow men, his constant glances at them reeking of a fervent and destructive desire for approval of any kind, trying not to even consider whether or not Stein felt neglected. It’s not as though they were in some sort of relationship, and was it even possible to neglect such a person? It was. He saw it in the resentful way he’d look at him, he observed it in the way he’d react to any small touch of his as though he’d been struck by lightning. ‘But he reacts to anyone trying to touch him that way!’ He’d bargain with himself. His bargaining would always fail, however, when he’d remember that he likely reacted that way due to touch being a foreign concept to him. Did he want to be touched in some way? Need it? Did he have a need for attention just like everyone else? Did he feel neglected and ignored? Did he feel unimportant in comparison to whatever hooker hoping to make a quick buck Spirit could get his hands on? Maybe he was fine with it. After all, that, which shall not be named that was growing, bubbling between the two of them was something Stein clearly had never experienced before, and perhaps wasn’t even used to receiving. Maybe it made him feel fearful to advance within those newfound emotions- maybe Spirit was doing him a favor! No, he wasn’t. Stein, someone who was not exactly used to comforting others or being comforted either, was forced every single early morning, often somewhere between the hours of one and eight, to hold his hair back as he hurled into their toilet for the umpteenth time that week. He always came home smelling of alcohol, of perfume. He never assisted Stein, did he? He kept him from getting himself in trouble out of sheer obligation, but that would probably feel like he was completely unaccepting and judgmental of him and his behavior, wouldn’t it? Would it even feel like he didn’t truly love him? Didn’t truly care? He wasn’t used to being comforted. He wasn’t used to being accepted. Did he feel neglected?

And why did he care so much? He was starving, too.

But then again, wasn’t he the one too preoccupied with his own fears to even explore the possibility of him and Stein being even more than what they already were?

[fuwahua]

New Traditions

WC: 2.3k

Happy birthday Zhongli! May you enjoy the year of the dragon with your hubby 💕

Established relationship, fluff, (one sided) tickle fights, lots of flirting

“You know, it’s your birthday. We didn’t have to come all the way out here.”

“It is precisely because it is my birthday that I’d like to spend it with the family of the one I love.”

Zhongli chuckles as Ajax’s mouth flaps open and shut, a fish out of water. He’s not the only one to take amusement in the action— Ajax’s siblings giggle at him as well, and his mother partakes in a shared glance of fond amusement. Despite being a guest at this household, they’ve already taken to him with familial warmth.

Then again, perhaps that’s how most families are when their child brings home a lover.

Zhongli takes his time through his birthday dinner, though it is not a particularly luxurious meal. In comparison to the exorbitantly priced dinners at Liuli Pavilion he’d taken Hu Tao to in the past, the rather plainly plated, mildly seasoned platters Ajax’s family had set out before him are simple. Yet there is warmth beneath the spices: time, set out in the early dawn for a father and third eldest son to catch fish together, an evening of marinating lamb with rambunctious children, a night time’s worth of lullabies and whispered promises as the sweet scent of cinnamon and jam wafted from the oven. It is simpler food, yes, prepared by amateur hands that have never studied in crowded kitchens and before renowned chefs.

But it tastes of home, inviting and kind; for that Zhongli swears it is one of the loveliest meals he’s ever had in his life.

“I’m surprised you ate everything,” Ajax tells him well after the plates have been collected and their hands have grown wrinkled from washing. Most of his family has retreated, his mother to retire their youngest and the elder siblings departing to give the couple privacy. Even his father, who Ajax had described their relationship as tenacious at best, had given Zhongli a warm hug in celebration of his birthday. “I thought you hated seafood.”

Zhongli grimaces. Ajax laughs, a delightful ring of joy, and his grimace melts into a smile. “I… harbor a dislike for it, yes. But it is not as though I cannot consume it—and your mother spent so long preparing it, wouldn’t it be rude to leave it uneaten?”

“You say that, but you leave my seafood meals uneaten all the time.”

“I was only saving them for someone who would enjoy them more. Who would I be to deny my lover his favorite meal?”

“You’d be a great con artist, you know that? Slippery bastard.”

Ajax dramatically huffs and Zhongli smiles as he opens his hands in clear invitation. The false anger only lasts a moment before Ajax relents, rolling his eyes, and slides into Zhongli’s hug. “You can’t just offer people hugs every time they point out your flaws.”

“Why not? It’s seemed to have worked awfully well for me so far.”

“Oh? Are you hugging anyone other than your fiancé?”

Zhongli’s cheeks warm despite himself, and this time Ajax is the one to squeeze him with a grin. “You shouldn’t be too mean to your fi-an-cé, you know? Or who knows, I’d bring someone else home…”

“Ajax, I hate to inform you of this, but you have few friends. Fewer who would travel to Snezhnaya.”

“What—hey! I could totally invite the traveler!”

“Ah, so my competition is only one after all.”

The punch against his arm is little more than a playful gesture; Zhongli chuckles as Ajax attempts to wriggle out from his hug. “I jest, I promise. Please don’t go: It would be too cruel to leave your fiancé on his birthday, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s not even your actual birthday!” Correct. Even so, Ajax relents in his escape efforts, sagging against him. The sudden increase in weight means little to an Archon, but it is the trust beneath the shift that has Zhongli faltering, heart loud. “Just you wait, I’ll figure out your real birthday eventually.”

“We’d already told your family today is my birthday. Adding another day would make little sense.”

“You think they care? The more birthdays to celebrate, the better.”

“In that case, why not celebrate everyday?”

“Okay, not that many. It’s like…” Ajax trails off, humming in thought. Zhongli soaks in his concentration with affection, leaning his head against Ajax’s shoulder as he waits. It’s not often he’s allowed to witness the more calculative side of his fiancé despite the many years they’ve now spent together, largely due to the fact that Ajax insists on keeping his work and personal life separate. At home, he can relax and leave most of the decisions to Zhongli: a decision made from both their preferences and comfort.

Still, he savors moments like this, where Ajax is deep in thought. Calm, peaceful, and in the arms of the person he’s come to love the most in the world. Free to do little more than stare at the face of his beloved and take in all the features he so little has time to appreciate.

“… it’s hard to think when you’re staring so hard at me.”

“Forgive me, but between the snow and my love, I’d much prefer looking at my love.”

“You’re just—“ Ajax’s complaint fizzles as soon as it begins, eyes full of fond exasperation. It’s an expression Zhongli would have never thought he’d be the culprit of as Liyue’s Archon, and yet, he’s come to treasure every glance Ajax sends his way. “Does Xiao know you’re actually a little shit? Because I think he should know that.”

“I’ve done nothing to be referred to in such a way.”

“And a liar. You know, in Snezhnaya we used to lock people up for that.”

Impossible. Such a law would be much more suited to Fontaine than Snezhnaya, where falsities and secrets are deeply intertwined with the intricacies of romance. Yet Zhongli hums rather than correct.

“I’ve not lied at all today. Do I lack so terribly in expressing my love for you ordinarily that you think my truthful confessions are lies? Would you rather I kiss you every morning as you set off to work, and take you every night loud enough that there will be no doubt of our—“

“OKAY! Okay, okay, shut up, I get it!” Ajax’s cheeks flame as he interrupts, a warmth that creeps from his neck to his ears. Zhongli laughs, bubbling mirth escaping him, while Ajax pinches his cheeks. “Why do I feel like you’ve been laughing at me all day?”

“I’ve little idea of this accusation.”

“You’re laughing at me right now.” Is he? Zhongli raises a hand to his face, failing to hide his still wide grin of amusement. Ajax’s eyes narrow. “Stop that.”

“I’ve hardly done anything.”

“Really? You want to play this game?”

“Game?” Zhongli huffs, transferring his hand from his face to Ajax’s cheek, patting it playfully. “Is that how you refer to spending time with me?”

“Oh, you’re just asking for it.”

“Asking for what?”

Admittedly, he was probably “pushing it” as Ajax would say, but Zhongli would like to contest that claim with the very cute evidence of Ajax’s slightly irritated gaze sent his way. He could hardly help it!

Though, Ajax wouldn’t accept such reasoning. If anything, the sudden mischief sparking in his eyes…

“Asking for this!”

“A-Ajax! W-waihahaaht!” Zhongli startles with a giggle at the sudden move of fingers against his waist, squirming at the ticklish sensation. Ajax grins down on him as his hands skate along his torso, teasing.

“Wait? You sure didn’t wait to tease me, why should I wait for you?”

“I wasn’t! Ehehe, I was telling thehehe! Ahaha, pause!”

“Excuses, excuses!”

If he weren’t so distracted, Zhongli would scold Ajax for interrupting another in the midst of their sentence. Unfortunately, he’s rather busy with trying to grapple at Ajax’s wandering fingers along his sides, sweeping up to poke at the divots between his ribs. Curses his perfectionism while crafting this human form—he could have simply left out the ribs, couldn’t he?

But he hadn’t evidently and now, he had to suffer the consequences.

Zhongli shakes his head as he laughs, successfully grabbing one of Ajax’s wrists only to lose it a moment later when the other hand jumps into his armpit. His giggles rise in volume and pitch, an unruly mess of jumbled syllables; his cheeks redden at his own laughter as he protests.

“A-Ajahahahaax! No, hehehe, it–it’s rude!”

It’s of little use. Ajax’s fingers continue to wander, prodding all of Zhongli’s weak spots, pressing ever closer even though there’s no space left between their bodies. When Ajax’s hair brushes his nape, he squeaks.

“Rude? You’re calling me rude?”

“Nohohoho! This-I-I—not there!”

Zhongli’s words dissolve into embarrassing noises as Ajax’s hands roam downwards to his hips. The actual act of tickling and of being tickled by his lover isn’t something he particularly dislikes: the familiar exploration of Ajax’s hands and the almost determined, grinning face that peers down upon him, if anything, warms his heart. But it is the principle of the matter—that he is a guest at Ajax’s home, generously welcomed as his lover, and rather than setting the family peacefully to sleep he is instead laughing his head off at the hands of the man he is meant to trust the most, at a surely obscene time of the night.

Succinctly put, it’s incredibly rude to be so loud in someone else’s home. Even more so when his laughter echoes in his own ears, wild and desperate at the way Ajax knowingly digs his thumbs in little circles at the center of his hips.

“Naa—AhahaHAHAHAJAHAHAX!”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

It’s too much, not enough, the feeling of his lover’s hands mapping out familiar patterns along his body; Zhongli’s heart thrums in his chest, both hungry for more and aching for a rest. His fingers grapple with Ajax’s, pulling at the bullying hands prying desperate giggles from his throat, but they only dig in deeper with every attempt. “EnouGHAHAHAHAA! STAHAHhahahap!”

“Wellll, I don’t know, should I stop~”

“YeheHEHEHEHEHES! NOHOHO MOOHEHEHEHRE!” Laughter leaves him dizzy when the hands crawl downwards teasingly, pinching his hips and then his inner thighs as he squirms; mercy comes at last when his legs give out beneath him, sending them both to the ground. They don’t crash, luckily, Ajax’s arms crossing around his chest protectively and landing them comfortably on the carpet instead. The contact is still enough to have him giggling, shoulders twisting inwards to protect himself from further tickling.

“Waiahait… Ehehe, stahahap!”

“I’m not even tickling you anymore!” Ajax’s hands rise from his torso to his shoulders, tugging Zhongli back until he’s leaning against his chest, Ajax’s knees rising up to form a protective barrier around his own. Blue eyes enter his tired vision, a hand cradling his cheek as Ajax furrows his brows. “You okay?”

He chuckles again, this time quiet and of his own volition. Ajax’s gaze softens, sweet, and he silently thanks the fact that his thrumming heart could be associated with the tickling attack and not the fervent urge to pull the other down into a kiss. “Ahahaha… Rather odd words from the person who’d chosen to render me in such a state.”

“Hey, this was much needed vengeance after what you’ve put me through today!”

“Was it?” One would think that he’d have learned after Ajax’s “vengeance” about prodding a sleeping narwhal for fun, but Zhongli had been honest when he said his teasing only came from sincere adoration. He leans into Ajax’s palm, nuzzling it before pressing a kiss against the bare wrist and smiling as Ajax’s eyes follow the motion. “Is that all the vengeance you wished to enact on me?”

Ajax swallows. His mouth parts, tongue swiping his bottom lip and leaving it glossy. “Well, I—”

“Do you two have any idea what time it is?!”

Ah. Right. They’re still in Ajax’s parent’s house.

“M-mama! I wasn’t—we weren’t—um, well…!” Zhongli blinks upwards as Ajax all but whole-body flinches away, mouth sputtering as Ajax’s mother stares down at them. Her kind smile at the dinner table remains fixed, but her eyes are…

Even an archon has things they know to fear. Celestia, Descenders, mother-in-laws, to name a few.

“Save it,” she sighs, pinching her nose in exasperation before moving her gaze to Zhongli. “Take him to bed, will you?”

“Wha—hey, he’s the guest!”

“And who was causing all that ruckus?”

Both of them, technically, but it’s clear the madame of the house (understandably) has little patience left for any antics. Ajax bites his cheek as Zhongli chuckles; he rises to his feet, steady now after resting in Ajax’s arms, and pulls the pouting ginger up with him. “My sincere apologies for the ruckus. We’ll be in bed shortly, I promise.”

“I’d hope so,” she says, her gaze returning to Ajax. They stare at each other a moment, her eyes shiny, before she nods. “Good night, you two. And,” her eyes return to him. “Happy birthday, Zhongli. I hope we can celebrate it again next year.”

Next year. He returns her kind smile, squeezing Ajax’s hands. “I’ll be sure to return.”

He waits for her footsteps to recede before Zhongli turns to Ajax, triumph flashing in his gaze. “It appears that I’ve left a successful impressi—hm!”

Ajax’s lips leave him far too quickly only to return again, persistent, hands pulling him into another. They’re quick kisses, breathless and giddy, filling each other’s spaces only long enough to leave them longing for more. He chases after Ajax, maybe, or it’s Ajax who chases after him. They meet in the middle regardless and Zhongli smiles into the kisses that follow.

Perhaps Ajax had a point about the second birthday. He’s already looking forward to the next.

[antianakin]

I love the No Palpatine AU! (Idk what else to call it) I kind of want to know how they would react to the canon universe and vice versa.

Everything is just so chill in the AU universe while it seems like everything has gone wrong in the canon universe. They would wonder what exactly makes this universe so different from theirs until someone brings up Palpatine and they are just like: "The senator who fell down the stairs???"

I wonder if being around an emotionally healthy Anakin would make canon Padme, Obi-Wan and Ahoska realise that canon Anakin is kinda messed up. Especially if they told him some of the things he's done and he's like: "um, no offense, but that's pretty fucked up"

Haha, I definitely hadn't considered the idea of my AU versions of characters meeting canon ones lol, this'll be a first for me.

So I'm assuming that we're working primarily with the first option for the No Palpatine AUs where TPM canon goes primarily the exact same way except Palpatine dies real quick before Padme can show up on Coruscant with Anakin in tow. With that in mind, I think the reactions you'll get to how different Anakin is will vary depending on when in the timeline they're meeting and who exactly is meeting each other.

Obi-Wan, for example, doesn't actually KNOW most of the worst shit Anakin's done. Like the worst stuff Obi-Wan knows Anakin's done has been to lose his temper a bit, be reckless sometimes, and not always follow orders. It's not THAT particularly heinous, and I imagine the AU Anakin still has a temper sometimes (most of the Jedi DO get angry sometimes, they just work at controlling it really well and most probably struggle with it more when they're younger anyway) and still has the tendency to be a bit reckless when he wants to be. His problems with authority and following orders have sort-of been transformed into a desire to take down EVIL authorities like the Hutts rather than a dislike of the Jedi Council. He gives his respect to authorities who have EARNED his respect.

But I think that Obi-Wan throughout most of canon up until Order 66 believes that Anakin might struggle with some stuff that a lot of young Jedi probably do struggle with, but that he will ultimately overcome it, too. He doesn't realize how DEEP that struggle really is, nor does he know some of the awful things Anakin's actually done or how far he's strayed from the Jedi way. So his comparison to the AU Anakin is probably going to come from that particular perspective if they're meeting pre-Order 66. He might see AU Anakin as more just like... what canon Anakin will ultimately one day be able to achieve. Perhaps the AU version got there faster because his world isn't at war or something, canon Anakin is dealing with a different situation, but he'll get there eventually, he's never let Obi-Wan down before after all.

If they're meeting AFTER Order 66, then yeah, I think he's going to have a lot of feelings about AU Anakin doing so well and isn't going to be particularly shocked that Palpatine never even MET Anakin and that he died very early. He's not going to need to realize canon Anakin is messed up though, that part's kind-of obvious already lol.

Ahsoka I think might land in a similar boat since her knowledge of Anakin is so limited. If we decide the TOTJ training is canon, then that little tidbit could get revealed and wow AU Anakin would have SO SO MUCH to say about THAT. AU Anakin might have something to say about Ahsoka being like "most people would be shocked to realize how kind he was" too lol. Like he hopes he NEVER gets to a point where people are legitimately shocked that he's KIND. If Ahsoka gets the chance to just spend some time with AU Anakin without canon Anakin around, she might come to a few realizations of her own, but I think she'd also feel really guilty about making the comparison and potentially finding canon Anakin wanting, so she might not say or do anything about it.

Padme meeting an emotionally healthy Anakin could be a VERY interesting one because out of the three people Anakin has the closest relationships with, Padme's the one who knows how far he's fallen and has convinced herself that it's fine and no big deal. What might be equally as interesting is AU Anakin looking at canon Padme and just being SO concerned for her because she's got glimmers of the Padme he knows (whether they're in a relationship or decided they worked better as close friends, both work) but she's... fragile. Shattered and badly melded back together in a way his Padme isn't. This Padme is so lonely and so unhappy in ways she won't even recognize and hearing Padme excuse canon Anakin's treatment of her, realizing that Padme broke her own vows in order to enter into a forbidden marriage with someone who doesn't even seem to respect her much just breaks his fucking heart. This isn't his Padme, this Padme was broken long before she got married to canon Anakin, and the toxic relationship she's now in is just a symptom of that.

I'm not sure Padme would really come to any realizations of her own given that canon Padme literally hears Anakin advocate for dictatorship and fascism and decides to pretend that it was just a joke because it's easier to deal with. I think she'd find a way to explain away AU Anakin's differences in a similar way, despite the fact that she, more than anybody, should be able to really feel the difference between her Anakin and this healthier one. If she DID come to any realizations about Anakin, I think she'd convince herself that she didn't, that she was mistaken.

And of course, there's always the question of what happens when Anakin meets Anakin. I'd like to say that AU Anakin just kicks canon Anakin's ass, but he's supposed to be emotionally healthy, so he doesn't. He recognizes how canon Anakin got to where he is, he can tell exactly which issues of his have gone rancid and twisted in Anakin to make him the kind of person he is. AU Anakin would so desperately want to help canon Anakin as someone who can really understand exactly what's making Anakin tick. If he can manage to figure out that Palpatine is the issue and bring that information to the Jedi, that could potentially help, depending on when in the timeline this is happening. AU Anakin might be able to get away with taking out Palpatine in a way the other Jedi can't if they can pull off some kind of deception. AU Anakin managing to fulfill the prophecy instead of canon Anakin is actually incredibly hilarious to me. Like the Force chose Anakin, but then realized that this particular one was just going absolutely sideways and so dicked around and brought in an AU Anakin that actually went well but never had a Sith Lord to eliminate of his own.

I could probably go on and on here about like... an AU Ahsoka meeting canon Ahsoka at different points in her life or an AU Padme meeting canon Padme, or how AU Padme reacts to canon Anakin and stuff like that, but this post has gotten long as it is, so feel free to send another ask if you want me to just keep going like this lol.

[tamlinweek]

Prompt List, Part 1: Days 1 - 3

It’s January! Tamlin Week 2024 is in April, and it will be here before we know it! Are you feeling the pressure to make something, but you’re not sure what yet? Here are some ideas to get you started!

Day 1: Heir of Spring/Human Tamlin

“Oh, I can play a mean fiddle, but High Lords’ sons don’t become traveling minstrels. So I trained and fought for my father against whomever he told me to fight, and I would have been happy to leave the scheming to my brothers. But my power kept growing, and I couldn’t hide it—not among our kind.” ~ACOTAR Ch. 19

Heir of Spring

What was Tamlin's childhood like when he was growing up?

What was his relationship like with his mother? His father? His two older brothers?

How did his blossoming powers manifest?

When did they start to appear?

What would his life have looked like if he had become the traveling minstrel he had always wanted to be?

As the last of his line, what does it mean for the future of the Spring Court if he does not produce an Heir of his own?

Human Tamlin

In ACOTAR, Tamlin was born a High Fae, and a High Lord's son at that. In the original Ballad of Tam Lin, the female protagonist named Janet asks him if he was ever once a mortal man. Tam Lin says he was, but he was kidnapped by the Queen of the Faeries when he fell off his horse.

How would Tamlin's story have changed if he was once mortal, like Feyre?

What if the roles were reversed, and he was the mortal hunter, and Feyre a High Fae?

What if Tamlin found a way to become human, to forsake his immortal life?

Would that be a selfless act, or a selfish one?

Day 2: Poet/Warrior

Poet

“Your list of words was too interesting to pass up. And not good for love poems at all.” When I [Feyre] lifted my brow in silent inquiry, he said, “We had contests to see who could write the dirtiest limericks while I was living with my father’s war-band by the border. I don’t particularly enjoy losing, so I took it upon myself to become good at them.” ~ACOTAR Ch. 19

When did Tamlin first start writing poetry?

When he wanted to become a traveling minstrel and play the fiddle, did he write his own songs?

What were the dirty limericks contests like?

What other kinds of poetry did he write, if any?

Warrior

“I never expected—never wanted—my father’s title. My brothers would have never let me live to adolescence if they had suspected that I did. So the moment I was old enough, I joined my father’s war-band and trained so that I might someday serve my father, or whichever of my brothers inherited his title.” He flexed his hands, as if imagining the claws beneath. “I’d realized from an early age that fighting and killing were about the only things I was good at.” ~ACOTAR Ch. 19

How old was Tamlin when he was forced to join his father's war-band?

When did he first meet Rhysand? How did they meet?

What was it like living in the camps with his father's war-bands?

We know that Tamlin participated in dirty limericks contests. What else did he do while training?

What was training like?

Who else could he have met in the bands?

Which side of Tamlin do you find more captivating? The warrior, or the poet? Or do you prefer the dichotomy? Romantic vs destructive; soft vs sharp; light vs dark? There is no wrong answer!

Day 3: Mates/Flower Language

“High Fae mostly marry,” he said, his golden skin flushing a bit. “But if they’re blessed, they’ll find their mate—their equal, their match in every way. High Fae wed without the mating bond, but if you find your mate, the bond is so deep that marriage is … insignificant in comparison.” ~ACOTAR Ch. 19

Tamlin may not have a mate in canon, at least not yet(!), but what if he did?

Who is it, and how do they meet? Or, perhaps, is his mate someone he’s already met?

If you’re not fond of mates as a trope, how would he woo a significant other? With flowers, perhaps?

Flower Language

There will be a separate post in the future discussing the Language of Flowers in depth, but for now, let's take some inspiration from Shakespeare:

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance: pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts. There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue for you; and here's some for me: we may call it herb of grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died: [Hamlet, Act 4, Scene 5, Line 175]

"Rosemary is particularly associated with remembrance of the dead, and pansies get their name from pensées, the French for thoughts. Fennel represents marital infidelity and columbine flattery or insincerity. Rue, also known as herb of grace, is very bitter and stands for regret, repentance and sorrow. Daisies are a symbol of innocence and the violets, now withered, mean faithfulness." - source

Now let's consider the language of flowers as it pertains to ACOTAR:

After a while, I paused in the rose garden. The moonlight stained the red petals a deep purple and cast a silvery sheen on the white blooms. “My father had this garden planted for my mother,” Tamlin said from behind me. ... "It was a mating present." ~ACOTAR Ch. 19

Tamlin's father planted the rose garden for his new mate. What do the roses represent, and how do the colors impact their meaning?

What other flowers might be important to Tamlin?

Aside from expressing affection, what other messages could be sent using the Language of Flowers?

Consider flowers signalling a secret meeting, or sending a warning, or, if you want to get cheeky, consider the Tumblr-based Flower Shop AU: "How do I passive-aggressively say "F*ck You" in Flower?" as a way to explore floriography in the Spring Court.

Even though the prompt encourages the use of Flower Language, there is more symbolism to plants than flowers alone. What trees or herbs could be used to enhance a message in the Spring Court?

Let your imagination run wild!

We hope these questions and prompts have inspired you! Part 2 discussing the next three days of prompts will be coming soon!

[readyforthegarden]

When the Nightingale Sings - Part One

Pairing: Danny Wagner x F!Reader

Synopsis: Medieval AU! In a world where noble alliances dictate futures, you have been betrothed to Prince Emers, a man you barely know and certainly don't love. As you travel towards the royal palace for your impending wedding, your journey is upended, causing you to run straight into a kind, lonesome hunter. With no choice but to trust him, you embark on a journey together towards the nearest village, navigating through the forest and it's perils. As the solace you find in his companionship builds will you choose to honor your duty, or will you abandon everything you've ever know to follow your heart?

WC: 3424

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, brief depictions of murder, angst, anxiety, fight or flight emotions.

A/N: It's here!! I am insanely proud of this story and all the work I've done on it. It wouldn't be anything like it is without the help of some good friends. A big thank you to @earthlysorrows for beta-reading and editing and helping me along the way! And @joshsindigostreak for always hearing me out when I text her saying 'i have an idea 👀' and always playing dialogue off with me. Love you both so much!

You had always disliked riding in carriages, the juddering and shaking motions of them as they traveled down worn paths between villages, towns and cities always making you feel ill. Today was no exception. You were currently on day three of a two week trip across the country, and a soft rain had fallen in the early morning, ensuring muddy tracks and sinking holes along your path. You rested your head against the wall next to your seat, closing your eyes and wishing sleep would take you. Perhaps death would even be better than the pounding in your head. 

“I imagine you’ll have much finer carriages after you marry the prince, my lady.” your handmaid smiled, trying to ease your discomfort. “I hear he has one that’s lined with fur.” What a comfort that would be on such a cold journey. The foot warmer between your feet had already begun to grow cold, the embers refusing to be stoked with life again in the late fall air. 

“That would be something to see, Marta.”  the handmaid’s eyes glittered at your response. She was young, only a few years younger than yourself, and the niece of the maid that had helped take care of you most of your childhood. Though there should have been a stronger boundary between lady and servant, you had found a form of friendship in her, though it was stiff and formal. 

“And imagine all the beautiful gowns and jewels, I cannot wait to help you dress for royal banquets.” Marta slipped into a diatribe about how the balls your family had held would pale in comparison to the ones the royal family had, how glittering you would look in the crown jewels. The unease in your stomach grew. Your parents had worked out a strenuous match between you and the sovereign prince of Farrynden. It was an effort you had no part in, nor wanted. Unfortunately, you had no say in the matter, and after exchanging a few letters back and forth, you were summoned to travel across the country and marry the prince. 

It was just you, Marta, and two coachmen making the journey. Your family was well-off for the most part, but could not afford for all to travel to the nuptials. Their presence would not have been a comfort anyway. Your father was too proud of the match he had secured for you, and your mother was far too happy to lose you and gain a title in court. You wished for your older brother, though he had been long gone at this point, to try and talk sense into father. He might have listened to protests coming from him. 

The carriage jostled roughly, making you place a hand over your mouth and groan, preparing for the back wheels to follow suit, however, the carriage was stopped. Sharing a confused look with Marta, you glanced out the window. You were surrounded by woods, the path cutting through a dense, large forest. The confusion set in further until you heard the horses whining, the coachmen shouting. Moving back from the glass you glanced at Marta, who met your wide eyes with her own. 

The door was ripped open by the same large, grimy hands now reaching into the carriage. Your shriek matched Marta’s, both of you pushing away from that side of the carriage as much as you could. You cursed the large foot warmer, it’s bulk making it difficult to move. Marta’s wrist was taken by one of the hands, it pulled her harshly, yanking her screaming figure from the carriage. Another set of hands entered the carriage, grasping at the hem of your dress, your ankles. Kicking you tried to fight them off, but only succeeded in the assailant grasping your ankle and tugging you closer before grabbing your arms. 

You fought against the hands that held you steady, twisting and turning your body, stomping your feet in the mud. Marta’s screams were flooding your ears, and as you looked around for help,  you could see why.

The two coachmen were dead, blood pooling around their bodies. One was lying face up, his throat slit, blood still pouring from the wound. The other was face down in, a dark stain on his light blue coat, the blood mixing with mud beneath him. 

Tears began to run down your face, the inevitability of your own death coming to light. You thrashed further as the man holding you gripped tighter, bringing you towards the front of the carriage. 

“Oi, make that one shut up!” the man’s voice was hard and gruff, sending fear shooting down your spine. He spoke to his accomplice, a younger, greasy looking man, his teeth dark as he grinned. 

Marta’s screams were silenced as your own sobs echoed out into the forest around you, unable to look away from the blade that dragged across her throat. You saw the light fade from her terrified eyes, the image burning itself into your memory. You would be next. Oh god, you would be next. 

With everything you had in you, you braced yourself as the man holding you turned you in his grasp. 

“What a pretty little thing you are.” he smirked, his breath blowing across your face, pungent and sickening. “Maybe we should keep you, have some fun.”

“Lookie here,” the younger man caught both of your attention. One of your trunks was opened, and with his soiled blade he lifted up a nightdress. “She could be our little dolly, dress her up and strip her down.” Bile rose in your throat, and the next thing you knew, you had wrenched your head back, and brought it forward, cracking it against your captor. 

The man dropped you, startled from the impact and you slipped in the mud as you realized your chance to escape. Gathering up your skirts as shooting pain rippled through your skull, you bolted, dashing for the forest. You could hear both the men behind you, shouting and giving chase as you hastened through the dead leaves and twigs on the ground. 

Your lungs were burning with every breath you could take. You cursed the corset you’d been laced up in, knowing you could run faster without its hindrance. Not daring to check behind you, you kept going, not caring if you could hear them or not. Stumbling, you cursed, getting back up, though your legs were screaming at you. Cold tears whipped down your cheeks and from your eyes, the image of the coachmen and Marta flashing every time you thought about stopping. 

Time had escaped you. You knew that at some point you felt a soft flurry of early snow, but didn’t know how long you’d been running. The forest was thicker here, and you began to slow down. It was quiet now, and you glanced around. There was no sign or sound of the men following you any longer. You still kept a quick pace, checking for them behind every tree and branch. Watching over your shoulder, you pressed forward, stumbling but continuing to go. 

“Stop! Stop!!” you froze, whipping your head around to see a tall man standing a few yards from you, his hands thrust out in front of him, palms up. He didn’t look like the men that had chased you, he was clean, his dark, curly hair shining in the sun that broke through the trees. Fear still shot through your veins and you started to run, but he yelled again. “Stop! If you move you’ll step in a trap!” freezing again, you looked down. Right in your path, hidden under a few scattered leaves, was a metal contraption, meant for hunting large beasts and animals. You would have stepped right into it, maiming whichever foot landed in it. 

The man moved towards you, and you moved back. He took in your pale face, the only color your cheeks and nose tinged pink from cold and tears that were sliding down your cheeks. Your wide, scared eyes regarding him like a monster as he regarded you like a feral creature, scared and confused. 

With a breath, you bolted, darting off to your right before he could come closer. You would take your chances with any other traps, refusing to be held captive again. 

You had lost the sun, the trees looming overhead blocking out any of the sunset. You were staggering around, a painful stitch in your side mixing with hunger pangs. The headache you’d had earlier reappeared, and you slumped against a tree. The cold was creeping in, your sweat coated body chilling faster. 

The bark of the tree scratched against your coat, small bits flaking off and catching on the wool. Surely death by cold and hunger was a better fate than what had been in store for you, whether earlier or with the prince. 

The shaking shivers that wracked your body wouldn’t cease as the sky grew darker. Nestling into the tree trunk as best you could, you let your eyes fall closed dreaming of the warm fire in your old bedchambers, and the cozy bed one a few feet away from it. 

The sound of twigs snapping jolted you from sleep. Your eyes looked around, but instead of a dark forest, you were in a small, homely cottage. The sound of twigs was not that exactly, it was larger pieces of chopped wood, crackling in the hearth. And instead of a tree trunk, you were nestled into a large, warm bed. Furs were laid over you, their warmth making you feel slightly delirious. 

Sitting up, you inspected yourself, raising the blankets. Your dress, though dirty, was still intact. The only thing removed had been your shoes, though long, thick wool socks had been put on you in their wake. Glancing around the interior, you saw few items in the small space. A stack of firewood next to the fireplace, a small kettle hanging over the fire. Two wooden chairs and a small table, seemingly handmade from the rough edges of the items. A rack with various pelts draped over it was in the corner, drying. 

Finding you were alone in the cottage, you peeled back the furs on top of you, placing your feet on the wooden floors, you moved to get up from the bed, just as the door opened. A large figure lumbered in, the door slamming shut behind them. They were cloaked in a large coat and hat, both made of dark fur. Scrambling back into the bed, you pulled the blankets over you, clutching them to your chest. Your heart rate spiked as the figure turned toward you, his eyes regarding you anxiously. 

“You’re awake,” he smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You backed up, further in the bed when he stepped forward, pausing as he took in your move. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He watched as your hand shook, clutching the blanket, your eyes darting up and down his tall stature. Sighing softly, he reached up, his movement slow, and took off his hat, allowing his curls to bounce back to life. It was the young man from the forest earlier, that had stopped you from stepping in one of his traps. He put it on the small table, then unfastened his coat, lowering it from his shoulders and draping it over the back of his chair. Glancing at you, he put his hands on his hips. 

“My name is Daniel, by the way.” he paused, waiting for you to reply. When you didn’t, he glanced around the cottage. “This is my home. I found you in the woods while checking my traps. You were turning blue, so I brought you here. Have you been hurt?” This pause was met with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. “Good. Can you tell me why you were running in the woods like that?” Silence. Daniel sighed, watching your eyes cast down to the floor. 

Turning, Daniel moved away from you and to the fire, grabbing a small bowl from the mantle, and opening the lid on the kettle, stirring the stew inside with a ladle that had been hanging from a hook by the hearth. The smell of cooked meat and herbs met your nose, and your stomach growled loudly. Daniel chuckled under his breath and ladled some into the bowl, his own stomach softly rumbling as the aromas wafted up to him. Grabbing one of his few spoons from an old tin on the mantle he walked back over to you. 

He held out the bowl to you, raising his eyebrows, idly twirling the spoon between his fingers on his other hand. You looked from the bowl to him a few times, before shifting on the bed, letting the blankets go and reaching for it. Daniel pulled back slightly, making you gasp softly in surprise. 

“I’d rather not have rabbit stew spilled in my bed,” he explained. “Come sit at the table.” you hesitated, but Daniel moved back, setting the bowl down on the small table by the fire, and plopping the spoon gently in. He sat down on the other side, and waited. 

Feeling a spectacle, you slowly climbed from out of the covers, your feet on the hardwood floor again. The socks slid against the smooth wood as you stood, and you brushed down your skirts. Every step you took toward the table, and the man sitting there, was timid. You were afraid that he would pounce at any moment, finish the job of the other two bastards before him. 

Yet he sat still, his eyes wary but kind as you gripped the back of the chair, pulling it out somewhat before taking a seat. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips as you tucked in closer to the table. Eyeing the stew, you spied chunks of lean rabbit, potato and carrot, a beetroot or two also mixed in. Your mouth watered, but what if he did something to it? What if this was all a trick?

Seemingly reading your mind, Daniel shook his head. 

“Go on, eat. I wouldn’t poison my own stew.” he rolled his eyes, but the gentle smile was still present. Still, you hesitated. Daniel moved, his chair scraping the wooden floor, making you jump in your seat. You braced yourself, ready to endure another headache if you had to headbutt your way to freedom again. 

Daniel only moved to the fire, taking another bowl from the mantle and ladling himself a serving, grabbing a spoon and sitting back down. He kept his eyes on you, dipping the spoon into the stew and bringing up a steaming spoonful. Blowing gently on it, he raised the spoon to his lips before taking the bite. He did this a few more times, you were sure the food was still too hot, evident by the wince he did on the last before he spoke. “See?” 

Your hand raised from your lap, grabbing the rustic spoon. It had been worn over the years, no polishing, showing slight grooves where fingers had held it. Yours fit snugly into those grooves, and you stirred the stew a bit, releasing more steam before taking a bite of your own. 

It was delicious. You had to hold yourself back from slurping and sloshing down the meal as your tongue was coated with savory warm broth. The meat was soft but a little stringy, but it was a fine supper. Daniel continued his own meal, the two of you eating in silence until he spoke again, half-chewed bite in his mouth. 

“Do you have a name?” glancing up, you nodded, and supplied it to him quietly. “Are you from around here?”

“Where is here?” you asked. 

“I take that as a no, then.” he sighed. “Here is my home, in Timberhill. Where did you come from?” 

“Indigwall.” you answered. Daniel let out a long, low whistle. 

“You’re a long ways away from home,” he leaned forward, elbows on the table. “What are you doing all the way out here? And running through my hunting grounds?”

“I-I,” you stammered, trying to think of a lie. Just because this man seemed kind, didn’t mean he wouldn’t hold you ransom for money, from your father or the prince. As you glanced up to his eyes, you realized how soft they were. Amber flecks hiding in splashes of green mixed brown sparkled in the firelight. You could see no malice in his eyes, and suddenly the truth spilled from your lips. “I am betrothed to the prince of (country name here). I was traveling to the castle for our wedding.” Daniel stared at you, mouth slightly agape as you continued. “This morning, our carriage was stopped, and these two men-“ you choked on a sob as the images of Marta and the coachmen flashed again in your mind. “They killed them, they killed Marta!” Tears spilled down your cheeks, and Daniel stood, going to a small hutch and rifling through it before coming back with a handkerchief. You accepted it, dabbing your eyes and wiping the tears away. 

“I am sorry,” Daniel murmured. “I understand why you were so afraid of me earlier. You do not need to speak of it, if you do not wish.” nodding you tried to compose yourself as he sat down across from you again. The silence fell between the two of you again, but this time there were fewer questions, fewer anxieties weighing on it. 

Picking up your spoon, your hand trembling after the images, you continued your meal, swallowing down the stew, your appetite still fighting your nerves. 

“I thought from your coat and dress, you must have been a lady of some sort.” Danny cleared his throat. “I have a few things I must do before I can take off, but in a day or so, we can start the journey to the next village, see if we can send word to your prince.”

You knew better than to protest. If your own parents didn’t listen to your pleas not to be shipped off, not to marry the prince, a stranger wouldn’t either. 

“That’s very kind of you, sir,” you gave him the best smile you could muster, feeling it barely raise the corners of your lips. “But I don’t have money to pay you. All of my things were in that carriage and with…them.” Daniel didn’t need you to elaborate on whether your belongings were stolen by the murdering bandits or left behind with the bodies laid across the path. 

“No need for formalities.” Daniel instead chose to break the ice further. “You can call me Danny. My friends call me that.” he had hoped the more casual nickname would help ease the tension of formality.

“Danny, then.” Nodding, you sat back in your chair, a little easier now that your belly was full and you knew the name of the man across from you. “How far are we from the next village?”

“That depends on the method of travel.” he answered. “Tomorrow after I check my traps, I’ll see about finding your carriage, and if the horses are still there, we can ride those and it would only be a few days. Without them, we’ll be on foot, and that could take about a week.” as he finished his sentence, a large yawn stretched your face. “Go on back to bed. You need to rest after all the running you did.”

“No, I can’t take your bed again,” you shook your head. 

“I insist.” Danny got up, walking over to an old, worn cloth that was strung in the corner of the large room. With a jump, he climbed up into it, swinging precariously with a smile. “See? I don’t mind sleeping here.” 

Rising from your seat, you moved to the bed, and took one of the furs from it. Folding it over your arms you walked over to him, smiling as you raised it up. One of his large hands reached down, grasping the soft material and pulled it into his hammock as he returned your smile. 

“Thank you Daniel-Danny,” you corrected. He merely nodded at you, fluffing out the blanket over his long body, settling in. As you crawled back into the bed, you pulled the blankets back over you, finding its warmth and your full belly already lulling you into sleep. 

“Goodnight, princess,”

“I am not yet a princess,” you mumbled, slightly offended by the unwanted title. 

“Goodnight, all the same.”

“Goodnight, Daniel.”

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

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[idyllic-affections]

idk i felt like posting an older draft. here's miscellaneous, mostly silly and lighthearted aeon of creation!reader thoughts:

dan heng once pointed out that they don't blink. he found that the next time he interacted with them, they periodically blinked. not often enough, but... well. who is he to judge this weird, blatantly nonhuman being? really? him, of all people? his unease eventually settles and he finds that he gets along with them quite well, especially late at night when everyone else is asleep. they're wise in a way he cannot place, cannot explain. but he knows. he knows they aren't human. and that's fine. he doesn't pry.

sometimes himeko likes to sit with them and watch the stars, generally in the early morning. she tends to be up first. she gets to hear all their stories and gossip about the other aeons. she is very very very entertained by them and the things they share with her (she's also quite surprised that the aeon of creation is so gossipy, but she wonders if they were just... lonely for a long time. perhaps they were. so, she's glad to let them talk, really, since it seems to make them so happy).

"You know, Lan is such a fickle thing. They used to never want to talk to me, but if I go find them now, they'll talk... a little, but then one time I tried to braid their hair and they told me they would kill me if I tried again. I really don't get it! Yaoshi would let me. Maybe I should tell them that the next time I see them... or would that get me wounded? Hmm. Oh well. I'll have to try and see what happens. A... 'social experiment,' as you mortals might call it."

Himeko chuckled at that. "Be careful, please. We are all quite fond of you, you know? I can't even imagine what I would tell March if you never returned."

"Oh, yes, of course. No, I— I wouldn't let down my guard around the Hunt, regardless of if I were doing something so objectively foolish like using the object of their ire to my advantage or not. It's so unfortunate, but they do not see me as an ally, due to Abundance and Creation being adjacent paths, so I would not risk my safety under this or any other circumstance. Even in the worst case scenario, it would be exceedingly difficult to kill me." They waved their hand dismissively, as if to reassure her.

"Even for another Aeon?"

"Yes. Even for another one of my kind. It typically takes two or more of our efforts combined to take down just one of us. Therefore, you should not concern over me. Anyways, where was I before that? Hmm— ah! Right. You know, Aha is perfectly fine to spend time with if I get too bored, but then they'll entirely and completely target me the second I turn my back or face another direction and I just..."

the human vessel which [name] has thoughtfully and carefully crafted specifically for this journey of theirs is... quite fragile. initially, this was quite the annoyance, but they've come to realize it's probably for the best—mortals are such fragile things, no? it makes their facade more believable when their vessel is so weak (in comparison to what they're used to, of course; their mortal vessel in comparison to other mortals and immortals is quite powerful, and [name] can bodyslam dan heng il or himeko or even mr welt yang of all people... not that they would! bodyslamming people is rude after all).

^ subsequently, they have to be careful with the amount of strength they exert. if they surpass a certain point, their poor little human body starts to crack and scar... literally. they have scars that make it look like they're being held together by kintsugi. it's quite pretty, really, and march thinks there is no one more beautiful <3 she's so fond of her silly friend and all of their odd traits.

[oflights]

oh this is so exciting! happy pride! You've reblogged a number of pretty bejeweled things today, and I wonder if they could be a prompt, perhaps as a gift, or an item in need of cursebreaking? no stress at all if this doesn't spark the muse!

hi!! thank you for this prompt, i kind of loved it. i chose to use this as a reference point and honestly had a lot of fun with it!

as i said yesterday, this wound up being thematically appropriate for a certain blond someone's birthday, which is why it's posting now!! i'm still working on other prompts, and feel free to keep sending some if you'd like!

this is about ~1100 words (sooo close to under 1k 😭) and features curse-breaking partners harry and draco, very jealous harry, and cheesy gemstone/eye comparisons. 💎🎈

“He bought them at auction,” Draco says in a hushed sort of voice, beaming down at the dangly gold earrings Harry is frantically casting on. “I can’t even imagine the price—not that that matters, of course, it would be thoughtful either way, but look—those are genuine pearls, Harry. Byzantine! Sixth century!”

“Sure,” Harry says through gritted teeth, not pausing in his casting. His hand is starting to cramp a little, so he drops his wand and takes a breath to gather his magic up in his spread fingers, ignoring Draco rolling his eyes and muttering something about showoffs. “Too bad they’re cursed.”

“They’re not cursed!”

“They’re definitely cursed,” Harry says, flexing his fingers over the earrings nestled in their ornate wooden box. He could cast the magic he’s working over them in his sleep—the perks of being a rather competent Curse-Breaker—and it’s no trouble at all to cast a few more times, just to be sure. More than sure. He’s absolutely certain that there’s something magically wrong with these earrings, and he’ll prove it. “And they’re ugly, beside.”

“They’re not—you have no taste.”

“They wouldn’t suit you at all, either; you’ve only got the one ear pierced,” Harry says, glancing up at the tiny diamond cuff glinting over Draco’s cartilage and the even tinier moonstone stud in his lobe, easily overlooked unless you make a habit of looking. Harry thinks he could point them out in the dark, blindfolded and spun around, but that’s not anyone’s business but his own. “Are you sure they were for you?”

“Of course they’re for me,” Draco huffs, shaking his head. “The box had my name on it, and Edmund left a note that he’d been called away but he wanted to make sure I got my present on my actual birthday instead of waiting for the party on Saturday—” The party that Harry had planned with absolutely minimal help from Edmund, who he thinks has a low chance of actually showing up, the bastard. “And, as I already told you, there are pearls.”

Harry just glares down at the stupid earrings, shaking his head.

Draco sighs. “Pearls are my birthstone.”

“Since when?”

“Since I was born in June, you nitwit.”

“They don’t even look like pearls,” Harry says, trying not to swear out loud. He’d gotten Draco a moonstone and diamond cuff so he could switch out his piercings. He’d never even considered birthstones, only that little stud that always catches his eye, and the shimmery moonstones on Draco’s watch; he’d learned about adularescence and thought about what light looked like reflected in Draco’s eyes.

At least, Harry knows, his gift is actually wearable. He can’t imagine Draco in these earrings, dangling there as he chats away with their clients and tosses his head back in laughter at Harry’s scant, interjected jokes. They’d agreed early on in their Curse-Breaking partnership that Draco was more of the natural at client relations, but Harry never feels as good as he does when he can join in and make Draco laugh. And the client, of course. That’s fine too.

He wonders if Edmund ever makes Draco laugh like that, when he’s not Portkeying off to another auction, standing Draco up for dinner with his parents, or gifting him absurd, assuredly cursed earrings. Certainly not, Harry thinks.

“I assure you that there are pearls,” Draco says, reaching out for the box. Harry smacks his hands down over it, shaking his head.

“No way, you know the rules. No touching, not until I’m sure there are no curses,” Harry says. “And I’m sure there are, so—”

“That rule is for both of us,” Draco says, swatting at Harry’s hands, laughing a little as Harry swats him back, their hands fluttering against each other over the top of box.

Harry traps both of Draco’s hands in his for a moment, grinning triumphantly, then yelps as Draco grips his hands back and slams them down on the box.

“You can’t keep me away from my birthday present,” Draco says firmly.

Before Harry can argue—before he can say he’s just protecting Draco, he’s just showing him who Edmund really is, and he could show him so much more, he could prove that Edmund is a dunce who has no idea what he has in Draco, who takes him for granted and thinks Draco would wear yellow gold and pearls and garnets and dangly, ugly, obnoxious, definitely cursed earrings in a pair when he only has one ear pierced—before any of that can come out, the door to their office bursts open to reveal a panting, red-faced Edmund, practically doubled over.

“Edmund?” Draco says, standing up from where he’s been perched on Harry’s desk and whipping his hands back.

Edmund wheezes at him, slowly straightening, his eyes widening as he holds up a very similarly-shaped wrapped box in one hand. “Wrong—present—”

“What?” Draco squawks as Harry grins broadly, triumphant.

“Don’t—open—oh—” Edmund continues, eyes going impossibly wider as he stares at the box still under Harry’s hands. “Don’t—touch—”

It’s Harry’s turn to squawk, “What?!” and whip his hands away, just as Edmund chokes out, “Cursed.”

Harry’s grin drops, staring down at the box—which is now devoid of earrings. He realizes this at the same time that Draco does, at the same time he feels a suddenly pinch in his left earlobe, jumping in his seat and yelping, “Ouch!” at the same time Draco’s hands fly up to his own ear.

He feels a weight near his cheek and gapes, wide-eyed, as he sees one of the earrings is now in Draco’s unpierced left earlobe. The other, he realizes as he cups his hand over the side of his face, is in his ear.

Harry and Draco stare at each, something charged and heated building up in the air between them, tingling where the earring is and spreading out to the tips of Harry’s fingers.

“Right,” Draco says as the moment builds, his eyes never leaving Harry’s—wide, bright, beaming with something that would be adularescence if his eyes were the moonstones they resemble. “What kind of curse, exactly?”

The earrings jingle, the magic tingles, and suddenly Draco drops into Harry’s lap, Harry’s arms going around him with little choice, their breaths quickening and a flush spreading across both their faces, as Draco’s horrible boyfriend watches.

“Erm,” Edmund says. “Right. That is to say, ah—well, you see, it might not be a curse so much as a—a bond, perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Draco says, pants out really, staring down at Harry, who stares back, until they can’t stare any longer because they’re kissing instead.     

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.51 Comparison trap

I ultimately decided on a restaurant in Windenburg and spent an hour drooling over the menu and photography. The sheer grandeur of it made me question whether this gesture was too much. It looked like the type of place a man took his lady to ask an important question I was not ready to ask. But the more I ogled the photos, the more I had to take Sophia and hoped she would say yes. I didn't think she would decline, but she had a life, and I didn't want to take advantage of her affection for me by assuming she would be available. But thankfully, she accepted and said she couldn't wait to see me. I sent her the details so she could prepare, as it had a dress code and everything.

Mama sent me a text saying she sent me some money. She didn't have to do that, especially after giving me a nice sum when I left home. But I thanked her anyway and bought a new suit. If only she could contain herself, I'd tell her my plans for her generosity. She would be overjoyed to hear about my developments and meet Sophia, but I couldn't tell her. Not yet.

Naturally, I arrived early to check on our reservation. The restaurant was even more amazing in person, from the high ceilings to the perfectly dimmed lighting to the servers rushing back and forth dressed in suits. I thanked Mama's money under my breath because I definitely couldn't afford to eat here on my own. Well, I could, but it wouldn't be wise.

Sophia arrived shortly after I checked in. I loved how we always arrived early on our dates, but it also made me feel some type of way. She'd been showing me what kind of woman she was and how she felt about me the entire time I'd known her, and I wish I would have been brave enough to accept her sooner. At the same time, I was thankful for the experiences I'd had to get me to this place, no matter how painful and confusing they may have been.

She wore a plain blue dress, low heels, and wore her hair in an up-do. Her whole vibe was simple, yet elegant, and I loved it. I didn't make a habit of comparing my friends to each other, but sometimes they had glaring differences not even I could deny. One such difference was their styles. Yasmine and Chi Chi clearly put a lot of thought into their styles and always dressed to impress. They wanted me to look at them, and I enjoyed doing so. Their faces were always beat and their hair was always in place. From their style to the way they walked...Watcher! They were both sexy as hell and kept me in a constant state of frustration and desire. On the other side of the spectrum, Sophia and Maira dressed more for comfort. They wore little makeup, and I loved how they let their natural beauty shine through. It was almost as if their lack of makeup enhanced their beauty, if that was even possible. Perhaps "they" were onto something when they say confidence is attractive. Sophia and Maira were comfortable in their own skin, and I loved that too. My feelings for them were the strongest, so what did that say about me?

Our table was already available, so the host seated us within a few minutes ahead of our reservation. Sophia looked around and commented on how fancy the restaurant was, how expensive it must have been, and how I didn't need to do "all of this" for her. But I did. Hind sight was always crystal clear, and I refused to keep her limbo. She needed to know how serious I was about building something with her.