#like move over and let me make him interesting again

[luveline]

If you are still writing for bombshell x Spencer could you write something from early seasons when he had feelings for JJ 👉🏻👈🏻

Hotch told you once that he was tempted to put an automatic lock on the office doors, so that he can lock them when he sees you coming during your working hours. 

He has yet to follow through. You slip in through the doors and take a deep breath. It smells like coffee, printer paper, all the same stuff as your own office, but your office doesn’t have Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, or Spencer Reid. 

“Neither does this one, apparently,” you mumble to yourself, casting your gaze around the room to no avail. The boys aren’t here. 

Emily’s sitting at her desk. She’s new, you’re jealous of her job, but she’s gorgeous. You won’t mind sitting at Spencer’s desk until they get back. “Hello,” you drawl, setting down in Spencer’s chair comfortably. 

Emily’s mildly startled. “Hey?”

Spencer’s desk is an explosion. You debate cleaning up for him. What if you put something in the wrong place? It’ll be more annoying than helpful. “How are things?” you ask, pushing Spencer’s chair back, and kicking a leg over your knee, high heel bobbing. 

“What?” 

You smile at her. Flirting, just a little, but your concern is real. “How are things going, Prentiss? With you?” 

“They’re good. Yeah. I just moved into my new place.” 

Bless her for not knowing what to do with you. She doesn’t have practice like the rest. “A new place? Where to?” 

She relaxes while you talk. Her apartment overlooking Kingman, her cat’s annoyance at the new smells and the long case time away. “Spencer says that cats aren’t capable of holding grudges, but Sergei can.” 

“He’s cute, isn’t he? He knows a fun fact for everything.” 

Emily sits up. You can see the excitement of a secret in her dark eyes. “He’s adorable. His little crush on JJ is so sweet, I’ve tried to give him some advice but he’s totally stuck on her.” You falter. And Emily, profiler in training, she catches it. Her lips part, startled. “You’re not–”

“I had no idea Spencer had a little crush,” you breathe, sitting up with a smile. “For how long? What about JJ, is she interested in him?” You hug your hands together. “You know, I think they’d make a cute couple.”

“Well, I heard they went to a football game together, but I don’t know when. Before I got here, at least.” 

What? “That’s fun.”

“I don’t think it’s serious.”

You tip your head back and the heavens have opened, Derek Morgan’s making his way toward you with a grin and a hand reaching for you. “Sweetheart, where have you been?” he asks. “It’s been weeks, I was starting to miss you.” 

You texted him a few days ago about a property nearby for rent, and you had coffee the day after to hear his advice on the area, so he’s just making stuff up. “Hi, Derek.” 

You get up and let him hug you. You deserve it. You’re beautiful and fun and smart, and you deserve a handsome man rubbing your arm and telling you he missed you. “How much?” you ask warmly. 

“Like a hole in the head.” 

Hotch is behind him. And there, the surprise item of the afternoon, Spencer Cheating Reid. 

“Hi, Hotch,” you say. 

“I heard something about you I’d rather not repeat,” he says. 

“Hotch, the details were wildly exaggerated, and I was less at fault than you might think.”

“I thought it was entirely your fault.” He shakes his head. “You’re shooting yourself in the foot, doing things like that.” 

“Why, what did you do?” Spencer asks. 

You falter again. Everyone sees your insecurity: Hotch’s brow furrows deeper than it had been, Morgan pauses, and Spencer, to your panic, holds your eye as the emotion passes. “It’s not worth talking about,” you say, shrugging. 

“Try not to do it again,” Hotch says. “Morgan, with me.” 

“Uh, Hotch?” Emily speaks up. 

“You too, Prentiss.” 

He leads a procession up to his office. Morgan throws you a look like he wants to talk to you, but you’ve plastered unaffectedness over the wound again. Why does the idea of JJ and Spencer going on a date upset you? He’s a sweet guy, she’s a nice girl. Is it because you didn’t know? 

“You really haven’t been here in weeks,” Spencer says. 

“Missed me?” 

He holds the strap of his bag. “Yeah, I did.” 

What use does he have missing you? “I heard something interesting about you, Spencer.” 

“You did?”

He looks shy, pale, and worried. You forget sometimes how he’s not just your favourite dork, he’s a friend. And he doesn’t seem to have very many of them. 

Oh, you think, jealousy, you heartless monster. 

“The rumour mill says you aren’t sleeping enough,” you say gently. 

“I sleep fine.”

You put one kitten heel in front of the other and stay, squinting at him with a teasing suspicion. “That’s not what my informants have been telling me. You look tired, honey. You aren’t sleeping, or Hotch won’t let you?” 

“Both.” 

He does that playful smiley thing that makes you wanna scrunch his hair in your hands, like he knows he’s made a good joke. 

“Your case in Cincinnati sounded tough.” 

“Wait,” he says. 

“What?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Usually. Why?” 

“Are you okay right now?” 

“I’m fine.” You purse your lips. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Just– you– I don’t know, you didn’t seem like yourself. I didn’t mean to upset you, asking about that stuff. It’s none of my business, sorry.” 

“How are you feeling about physical touch today?” you ask. 

He seems to regard you with distrust, for a few seconds, like he’s worried you’re messing with him. “I’m okay with it,” he says eventually. 

You step into his space and touch his cheek gently, fingertip tapping into a beauty mark you often remember only when he’s in your reach. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I’m sorry I made you think that.” You drop your hand. “Just having a weird day.” 

“Me too.” 

Spencer puts his bag under his desk and mentions a video he found on profiling you might like by one of the old Unit Chief’s, SSA David Rossi. You steal Derek’s chair and sit knee to knee with him to watch it, Spencer’s cheeks turning dark with blush in the screen’s reflection. 

Can JJ make him blush like that? 

—

bombshell fics

[goldfades]

I feel like we need to have a TikTok trend blurbs I just love the ones you did already.

Like when the reader and Luke is going to bed and he says “goodnight I love you and she says thank you”that one can be good

i love these sm HAHAHHAHAA

the apartment is quiet, the kind of stillness that settles over everything once the day is officially over. you’re in bed, tucked under the covers with the bedside lamp casting a warm glow across the room. luke’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth—you can hear the faint sound of the faucet running and the occasional shuffle of his feet against the tiles.

you’re scrolling through your phone, aimlessly thumbing through videos, when you hear him pad into the room. he’s shirtless, wearing the same old pair of gray sweatpants you always threaten to steal, and his hair’s still slightly damp from his shower. it’s a sight you’ve seen a hundred times, but it still makes your chest do that stupid little flip.

“you on tiktok again?” he teases, climbing into bed and nudging your shoulder with his.

“maybe,” you reply, locking your phone and setting it on the nightstand. “what’s it to you?”

he smirks, leaning back against the pillows and pulling you closer so your head rests against his chest. “just wondering what you’re plotting this time. you’ve been suspiciously quiet lately.”

you roll your eyes, poking his side until he squirms. “not everything’s a scheme, hughes.”

“uh-huh,” he says, voice laced with skepticism but too sleepy to argue further. instead, he wraps an arm around you, his palm warm against your shoulder.

there’s a long stretch of silence, the kind that’s comfortable and familiar. his breathing starts to even out, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you think he’s on the brink of sleep when he speaks up. your phone is already recording, showing half of your face and the curls behind you.

“goodnight,” he murmurs softly, voice low and drowsy. “i love you.”

you pause for just a second—just enough to be noticeable—before answering in the most nonchalant tone you can muster:

“thank you.”

the room goes still.

his hand stops moving, and you feel his chest rise as he takes a slow, deliberate breath.

“...what?” he asks, his voice sharper now, tinged with confusion.

you shift slightly, pretending to adjust the blankets. “i said thank you.”

he pulls back, just enough to tilt his head and look down at you. “that’s not what you’re supposed to say.”

you blink up at him, feigning innocence. “what do you mean? it’s polite to say thank you when someone says something nice.”

his brows furrow, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. “but—but that’s not how this works,” he argues, his tone half exasperated, half bewildered. “i say ‘i love you,’ and you’re supposed to say it back!”

“huh,” you say, tapping your chin like you’re deep in thought. “weird. i don’t think that’s a rule.”

“it is a rule,” he insists, sitting up now, the sleepiness completely gone from his face. “it’s literally, like, the rule.”

you bite back a grin, watching as he spirals into full-on disbelief. “are you saying you don’t love me?” he asks, his voice cracking slightly at the end.

“no, i didn’t say that,” you reply, stretching the words out.

“then why didn’t you say it back?!”

you shrug, trying to keep a straight face. “felt like switching things up.”

“switching things up?” he repeats, his voice going higher, and you have to physically turn your head to avoid laughing in his face.

“yeah, keeps the relationship interesting,” you explain, patting his hand like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“oh, my god,” he groans, flopping back against the pillows dramatically. “you’re actually evil. you’re trying to kill me. this is emotional warfare.”

you finally let out the laugh you’ve been holding in, and he turns his head to glare at you, though the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s fighting a smile.

“i hate you,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite to it.

you lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “love you too, babe.”

he groans again, but this time he pulls you back into his arms, his chin resting on the top of your head. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbles.

you grin, snuggling closer. “thanks, love you too.”

“stop saying thank you!”

[a1ecmcdowell]

bonnie!reader & clyde!dean - the name of the game, baby!

includes, crime :( but for the good of the people! the sexual tension is high but nothing ever gets done ab it sorry for the edging pt 2 soon tho

★ ˚⋆

times were tough these days. dean hadn't known a moment of peace from the very moment he decided that hunting wasn't doing shit for sustaining him, and, well... when he met you.

he'd made up his mind already that hunting was a deadend for him. as much as it killed him to think, it was. how could you keep up a job that didn't pay you, and expect to stay afloat? he wasn't.

it started with dining and dashing when he could, scrounging together the scraps of change and loose bills in his pockets for better things than something like a meal that he had to have or he'd die. putting money directly into corporate pockets when he'd then be out of a bed for the night was not something that he ever wanted to do.

until he met you. by chance, and by the threads of fate, you wound yourself around his heart and never let go.

he was finishing up the handful of fries on his plate, eyes drifting around the room as the waitresses moved to-and-fro. they hadn't stopped by him in a while, so he figured that he was either safe, or about to get approached and interrogated about another round of beer.

he'd take one, sure, but it'd be added to a tab he wasn't going to pay, so it was in their best interest to keep their noses out of his business.

one of the women catches his eye anyways, and she's making her way over with a noticeable sway of her hips and a swish to her long blonde hair, when-

the bell over the entrance door rings as the glass bursts open. in stumbles you, buttoning up the white blouse you wore without even looking up from it, loose and disheveled hair swaying in the burst of air your entrance caused.

you were beautiful, even in your mess, and even when your mouth opened to beg for forgiveness to a man behind the counter. "sorry! my car is shit, it wouldn't start, and-"

"louise has been covering your ass for thirty extra minutes," the man interrupts, his face stoic and unbreakable. "unpaid. don't apologize to me on your lack of punctuality, apologize to louise."

dean watches the whole exchange from his red-cushioned booth by the window, each second making his eyes narrow further. great. now he was getting a heart about stealing from this joint, just because of the way he now knew you girls were treated here. probably would have to cover his tab yourselves.

he sighs. they can't all be winners.

you're making your way over to him, and at first, with his fry smothered in a slurry of ketchup, he thinks you must be the prettiest girl he's ever seen, and here he is, shoveling down fries like a starved man.

fry drops back onto the plate. the waitress who'd been on her way over to dean is halted by your worried little mouth running all over again. "louise-"

"fuck him. i don't mind a second of it." louise pats your forearm with her hand. "it's not even been busy. he's just a dick. this one's my last."

her free hand lifts to gesture at dean, and he again feels a flush of awareness when louise turns to him, and then follows you. your eyes nearly freeze him on the spot. big and bright. christ.

"no, it's okay, i've got him," you say, and the smile you give to him and then to her does freeze him, ice cold and solid in this shoddy little booth. "you just head on home, alright?"

dean at least tries to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping. drops his head again, picks up that discarded fry from his plate.

"hi, sorry about that," you say around a frazzled sigh when you approach his table, and he can't help but bristle at how many apologies he's heard you utter in the last five minutes, all of them unnecessary. "anything i can getcha?"

he actually cannot stop looking at you. you missed a button three down from your collar, the shirt a bit crooked because of the slip. your nimble hands were in the process of tying your hair up and out of your face, flyaways dancing in the fluorescents of the diner like strands of glitter.

no, he wasn't planning on getting anything else. had cemented that idea the moment he decided he couldn't just steal from this place.

but the thought of asking for the check after only getting a few moments with you... wasn't going to fly for him.

dean lifts the empty glass bottle from the edge of his table. "just another one of these, sugar."

your lips curl something wicked, and he doesn't know why, but he knows that he feels like a teenage boy again, with the way his heart flutters at the sight. "that it?"

"yeah, that's it," and you really are a little minx, not as innocent as the act you give to your boss and your coworkers, because he can almost see the fire brewing behind your eyes, "why, you got somethin' else you wanna give me?"

that usually gets him a flush, bright pink warmth on the faces of the waitresses he says it too. you, though, only seem to brighten at the question. fire stoked. "a piece of my mind, maybe."

"alright, so sit that pretty ass down and give it to me."

you seem taken aback by it for a second, your entire face warming to such a pretty pink. your eyes flit back to the kitchen, and then to the open space in the booth across from him, and slowly, you sink down into it.

"hit me, sugar," dean says, leaning back against the ruby red cushions, "give me a little piece of that mind."

"you were gonna steal, weren't you?" you say, so fast and quick that he's taken aback this time. "when lou was leavin'. you were bankin' on her back being turned."

dean resists the urge to whistle under his breath. what an odd little talent that is, catching crimes before they happen. "nah."

"'nah'," you mimic, and his eyebrows shoot up on his forehead, "i know your type. thinkin' you're some kind of robin hood, skippin' the dollar on big brother."

"i'm not going to, sugar," he insists, more firmly this time, feeling a little on edge by your blasé attitude. he'd expect someone so accurate in their assessments to already have him by the ear, leading him into the hands of the guys with cuffs. "can't make you pay for food you didn't eat, can i?"

"i can afford a beer and a plate of fries, babe," you shoot right back at him, a sickly sweet smile on those pretty pink lips of yours. "i can't afford to sit here and waste my time cracking jokes with a joke."

dean does whistle this time, a scoff of laughter falling from his mouth. "y'think i'm a joke, huh?"

"i think anyone who claims they're doing things to damn the man is." your arms fold over your chest, the blouse bunching up beneath your breasts and pushing them up just enough-- "hey. eyes up here." fuck. "that's exactly what i'm sayin'. all damn the man but you're still a tool."

"that mean you wanna use me?"

this little back and forth was the most fun dean had had in weeks. months, even, if he discredited the cheap nights with easy girls in dirty motel rooms.

"no," you stumble the words out, spluttering them out like they burn your tongue. "i don't even know your name."

"dean."

your eyes linger on his for a few moments longer, like you're trying to assess if this is another one of his lies. you must like what you see reflected back, though, because you smile, slow and languid. "dean."

the silence that follows is short-lived and buzzing. then, your lips part again. "were you really going to dine and dash?" a test. you don't sound mad, or like you're interested in turning him in at all.

his shoulders lift in a slight shrug. "that's just the name of the game, baby." he leans forward with his elbows resting on the rickety table between the two of you. "damn the man, right?"

one second passes, then two, and then you're snatching a fry from the plate in between you, dipping it in the pool of ketchup on the edge of his plate. "there are much more fun ways to damn the man."

notes, WEEEEEE i was gonna do fallen angel!dean first but something ab these two were STUCK in my head hope u dont mind

tags, @jasvtsc @depressionbarbie2023 @figthoughts @titsout4nicholas

(if u wanna be added to this btw / u are supposed to be and i keep forgetting pls know it's not a vendetta i am just a silly lil lady who doesn't know what she's doing ok)

[heartowan]

★WINTER VISITOR: jason todd x reader.

( first part here !! ; afab!reader, cuss words, smoking, sexual content ) ────────── ★

"It's you again." You murmured, your voice sounding extra quiet now that it was past midnight. You could see the tired look in his eyes as he sat down on the wooden floor of your porch, his legs stretched out in front of him, reminding you of the position he was in that day you found him bleeding right there, at that same spot.

It had been a few weeks, maybe two and a half... and there he was: the Red Hood, back at your house, looking up at you with those white shining eyes of his ridiculous helmet.

"Yeah, it's me." He said, and before you could even process or think about the modulated voice, he removed the helmet. Now, only the area around his eyes was covered by that little domino mask.

You didn't like smoking inside, so you often went out to the porch for this sole purpose. To smoke a blunt. It calmed you down, though you didn't enjoy the actual action of smoking that much. It was... er, alright.

You exhaled the smoke slowly, and that was when he noticed what you were doing. "Can I be really honest with you right now?" He murmured, still looking up at you. You offered a soft grunt as a response, and he continued: "I would never, ever, in any possible circumstance ever, guess that you were a stoner." He said, a light chuckle following his words.

You furrowed your eyebrows, something that you seemed to do a lot in his presence, but you weren't offended in the slightest.

"Well... uh, thanks?" You mumbled with little interest. "I do it mostly for the buzz."

"I guessed you'd say that." He teased, a little stupid grin on his lips, and you glared at him.

"What's that even supposed to mean?" You inquired, a faux-offended tone in your voice.

"Nothing, nothing." He snorted, leaning his head back against the wall.

"What are you doing back here anyway?" You asked, now moving to sit down close to him. Honestly, you didn't really mind that he was who he was right now. You were stoned, tired and... didn't give a shit. You'd probably still sit in the same spot if you were sober.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "Was passing by and saw you out." He looked over at you, watching as you sat down beside him as he spoke. "Can I have a drag?"

"Sure." You mumbled, handing him the blunt. Woah, now you were gonna share saliva with him. Where the hell was your life going?

You mimicked his position, leaning your head against the wall. The night was freezing. You two probably shouldn't be outside, but you were covered in your warmest clothes, and he didn't seem to be cold, so you brushed your own concerns off.

"I looked you up, by the way." He murmured, handing you the little joint back. "Not much out there."

You arched one eyebrow at his words. Oddly enough, this time you weren't weirded out. "And you're admitting it?"

"Uh, yeah." He shrugged, letting out a soft huff. "Trying to make conversation or something." You laughed at that. What the hell was this guy's deal?

You didn't seem to be angry at him, so he kept talking to you. The whole thing was unusual for both of you. Talking to strangers (sorta) and being comfortable while doing so wasn't something that happened often in your lives.

You two spent hours and hours talking, even after you finished the blunt. It was nice, and even though it was still freezing, you two weirdly didn't bother by it. Maybe it wasn't that cold.

When you woke up the next day, you were in your bed, all tangled up in your sheets. You didn't even know how you got there, but you felt light, like you had a good night of sleep. Also unusual, because every time you smoked, you had the shittiest sleep of your life, but it seemed like this time had been different.

You picked up your phone, and as soon as you unlocked the screen, there was a text notification from a contact that you didn't recognize.

It was a red heart emoji, just that, and the text said: "If you're wondering, yes, I was the one who put you to bed. And yes, I snooped around your room 😝"

You rolled your eyes at that and tossed the phone down on the matress.

★...

More often than not, your few friends noted how affectionate you were. Always giving them little touches, brushing hair back, playing with the strands, fixing their clothes, stroking their arms with your fingers, even tying their shoelaces. It was all so you.

You didn't have many people close to you, and not because you were a loner, simply because you valued your hodiernal connections enough and didn't feel the need to look for anything else at the moment. You liked your friends, in fact, you loved them.

So, when that guy in the red helmet started showing up at your porch at ungodly hours at least three times a week, you started to consider adding him to your circle of friends. It wouldn't harm anyone, he was nice, and your friends wouldn't know anyway.

He was surprisingly talkative with you. You always expected those harsh and violent vigilantes to have harsh and violent personalities even when they weren't doing their job, but he was cool. He talked about a lot of things with you just to keep the conversation going, and you thought it was cute.

"... so... hey, did you get a new lamp?" He asked as he flopped down aggressively on your couch, interrupting his own line of thought. He was asking you about the neighborhood cat before.

You nodded at that, standing across from him while you fixed the little Christmas hat that had fallen off your bookshelf. "Yeah, the other one I had broke. I kinda bumped into it."

He hummed at your explanation, and you recognized the sound of his helmet being taken off. Always, as soon as he got comfortable in your house, he removed it.

While you had some trouble getting the Christmas decoration to stay in place, he stared at your back. Taking in your little green and red pajamas, your slightly messy hair, the dark green socks on your feet, and the way you seemed to be struggling terribly to get the Christmas hat to stay up. Adorable.

He stood from the couch and walked over to help you. "Let me try." He said, gently nudging your hands away. You sighed and let him.

You watched his concentrated face as he tried to put the little red and white hat in a position where its own weight wouldn't make it tumble. He looked nicer up close.

"It's Jason, by the way." He mumbled, eyes focused on fixing the hat. You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"My name. It's Jason." He explained.

He already knew yours. You had told him a few weeks ago when you shared a blunt for the second time.

"Ah, alright." You mumbled back to him, trying not to sound surprising. Jason. It was a cute name, and it seemed to fit him. "Fits you."

He finally got the hat to stay up, and he turned to you with a big, proud smile. You found it quite adorable how much he smiled around you. You didn't know if he was like this all the time, but you chose to believe it was a unique thing.

You two just stared at each other for a moment, him proud of his achievement, and you thankful for his help.

"Do you know how profound your eyes are?" He blurted, making a stupid face at you. Truly, he was gazing deeply into your eyes.

"If this is you trying to hit on me, you're failing." You retorted, a little smile appearing on your lips.

"Just saying." He shrugged, stepping back a bit. "I fixed your hat. You're welcome."

You watched as Jason walked back to your couch, flopping down onto it once more and letting out a lazy groan. His eyes closed, and he let out a tired sigh.

"Rough night?" You murmured, sitting down beside him. Your couch was comfortable and fit up to three people. Most of these nightly visits were spent in it, talking away. It was all too cozy.

Recently, he had started placing his arm around you when you sat closely, that and gently caressing your hair. And, this time, it wasn't different. As soon as your head touched his shoulder, his arm was around you, and his fingers started threading through your hair.

When you got closer, spending time with Red Hood Jason became something like spending time with yourself. Despite the absurdly different lifestyles, you two had a lot in common.

Like physical touch as a love language, liking sweet tea, reading, staying up until dawn, and, of course, being each other's secret. Nobody knew about your midnight visitor, and nobody knew where he went when he became unreachable past midnight.

"Yeah, rough night." He said, his voice becoming softer as he steadied himself with your help, the help of your presence, of your proximity. "Just, like, lots of stupid people making my job even harder."

"I get it." You murmured, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He was to your left, his right hand playing with your hair while you half-rested your back on his chest. It wasn't awkward anymore. You weren't even sure it ever was. "It used to be like that at my old job, and then I got a job at that little bookstore close to Gotham U."

"Mmm." He nodded, tilting his head a little in your direction, but his eyes remained closed. "You think you'd recognize me if I went there in my normal clothes?" There was a faint smile on his lips as he muttered those words.

"Probably." You said smuggly. "That little mask doesn't hide much."

"True," he chuckled softly, his eyes fluttering open to look down at you. They still look tired, and you had no idea if you'd ever see him looking not-tired. Maybe cause you've never seen each other after a good night of sleep. "But, they hide the most important part of my face. You can see the color of my eyes, yeah, but you don't know what's the shape of them or anything."

"Makes sense. Yeah, I think I wouldn't recognize you at first, but I'd recognize your voice, for sure." You said.

"What? Is it special or something?" He smiled at you, his fingers giving your ear a light, playful tug. "I bet you wouldn't recognize that either."

You gasped dramatically, hand cluching chest as you looked at him with the dumbest smile on your parted lips. "How dare you doubt me?" You inquired, your tone dripping of sarcasm.

"I mean..." he mumbled. "I guess you might recognize it. I don't know... we'll- we might see it one day." He fumbled over his words, his cheeks reddening. You got him flustered by making fun of him.

You wondered if that guy snuggled up with you on your couch, mumbling and fumbling over his words because of you was the same guy that beat and killed criminals in the deeps of Gotham. How could he be so... him? People have layers, yes, but this man is unbelievable.

Everything went quiet for a few minutes, only the faint sounds of your breathing and the soft hum of the heater could be heard, but those were muffled by the pull of your gazes on each other. He couldn't stop staring at your face, at your nose, at your lips, at your forehead, at your eyes. Like he'd never seen something so flawless, so polished, so complete ─ all he needed.

And you stared at him, at his mask, at the paint around his blueish-green eyes, at his chapped, but rosy pouty lips, at his straight nose, at his cheekbones, his chin, the white and black locks that fell on his forehead, his ears and the small earings on them. Like you'd never seen someone so unique, that seemed to be right there for you. Just for you.

You sighed when the staring contest became too much, but neither of your gazes strayed. His eyes focused on your lips, and you'd recognize that look in any light.

"Can I be really honest with you right now?" You murmured, and you could see a little smile creeping on his lips when he registered your words. Or, his words. He offered a soft "mhm" in response. "I want to kiss you so fucking bad. I think I might die if I don't."

"You might die?" His tone was soft, slightly mocking. "I don't think I'd like for that to happen."

"It'd be all your fault..." you taunted, giving him ridiculous puppy eyes. But, he was ridiculous too, and they worked so well on him.

He simply chuckled at you, and in half a second, his hand in your hair was used to push your head closer to his face as he leaned in, capturing your lips in the softest kiss you've ever shared with someone. It was lazy, he wanted to adjust to your pace, to let you guide, and you kept it deliciously slow and delicate, your heads moving and lips touching each other in a way that was simultaneously so tender and so sensual.

His hand slid to your cheek, holding you closer and caging you in his embrace while you raised a leg and placed it right on top of his, draping it over his lap, almost to mimic his hold on you. He used his left arm to pull you even closer by that same leg, your chests touching as the kiss became more intense and your tongues met.

He parted his lips to invite it, and you gladly accepted, sliding it inside of his mouth and caressing his own languidly and in a pleasant way, earning a hum from him that you swallowed in your kiss.

The feeling of your lips on his, his hands on you, his tongue on yours... way more satisfying than you'd ever imagined. You didn't think he'd feel so good on you.

His hand on your leg pulled you on his lap, the kiss becoming sloppy as you both shuffled on the couch to get you into a straddling position, each one of your thighs beside and squeezing his, your knees digging into the soft cushions of the couch as the kiss started getting a little more intense.

After all this time knowing and wanting each other, even if the attraction was suble, you'd expected wildness, despair, hands clutching clothes, teeth clashing, lips being biten, but that wasn't happening. What was in the air was need, tenderness, longing, and comfort, almost like it was a normal Thursday.

But it wasn't, and the both of you knew that. It was something new, something that you had yet to explore with the other. You were, of course, stepping into uncharted territory, a land which you knew nothing about. How would it be from now on? He'd still come almost every night? You'd still text constantly? Would you still call him in between your breaks to gossip about your boss? Would things get difficult and complicated?

These thoughts made you pull back from the kiss. Fucking anxiety. The pleasant and wet pop of your lips parting would've made you smile if you weren't so preoccupied. "Sorry." You mumbled into his lips. "Thinking too much."

"Don't worry, I get it." His nose brushed yours, and his heavy, warm fingers slipped under your shirt. He was panting a little, his cheeks, lips and neck flushed. He wanted you so bad. "If... you just want to chill and hang out like we usually do, we can just try to go back to that. Don't overthink it, okay? This doesn't doesn't have to be complicated."

You furrowed you eyebrows at him. "I don't see how this would not be complicated." He smiled at you, at your words, at whatever. He was, honestly, just glad to have you there, on top of him, speaking to him with your pretty voice after he had your tongue down his throat.

"I mean... like, don't think too much. I know it's easier said than done, but I think we'll figure it out anyway." He explained, his words sounding so sweet as he obviously spoke in a way that you just knew was an attempt to comfort you. "I don't wanna sound stupid and mushy, I really don't, but... yeah, I want with you... whatever you want with me. As long as you're happy and satisfied."

"Jason, what the hell do you mean?" You mumbled, narrowing your eyes at him. He laughed at your tone.

Saying his name felt weird. Until some time ago, you only called him Red Hood. But it also felt right, felt closer, deeper, maybe even made you feel warmer inside. The both of you.

"That I like you and I'm happy to be here, doing this with you." He said. "I don't know if it's too fast, maybe it is, but I'm in for it if you are."

Jason squeezed your waist, his eyes glued to yours as he waited for your response. His fingers caressed your skin, the palms of his hands heating up your sides while the pads of his digits squeezed your soft derm.

"I like you too." You whispered, almost afraid of your own words, but he was just marveled about how sensitive and sincere you sounded. "I'm in."

He offered you a gentle smile, warm and inviting, and you smiled back, your eyes crinkling at the corners. That sight reminded him of something.

"Take it off for me?" You looked confused at his request, a little curious pout on your lips. "The mask." Oh.

Carefully, your fingers reached for the black domino mask around his eyes. Even though you were excited to finally see what was under there for so long, you weren't hesitant. It peeled off easily, and you caught a glimpse of his temple once you started pulling it away ─ in five seconds, there he was. Jason.

He had black paint smeared around his eyes, but you could see him clearly even under the dim, warm lighting of your living room. You two were so close that you could see almost all of his lower eyelashes, but the top ones merged with the paint. You couldn't take that.

You wiped the oily paint away with the bottom of your shirt, just hoping it was washable. He simply let you. And in a minute, you finally had him there. All of him, all of his face.

"Your eyes are pretty." You murmured, hands now coming up to craddle his face. "Like, the shape."

"You think?" His voice was low and soft as he asked, and he received a nod in response. He loved when you complimented him, and you didn't do it often. "Kiss me?"

You just nodded again. You'd never dare refuse him. Your met him in a more certain kiss this time, now used to each others lips. He squeezed your waist once more, pulling you closer to him as the kiss intensified. Your clothed cores rubbed and chests pressed together with the movement, and you two grunted at the contact.

Your hands slid down to his shoulders, then to his biceps. You just had to grasp at them. And his own went up to your back, making you tingle. It was already too much, yet not enough.

You moved your hips against his, searching for more of that sensation from just a few seconds ago, and in no time, he was guiding the movements, his hands on your waist, moving you back and forth. The friction was delicious, and it made you both moan in each other's mouths, the sounds making everything so much more pleasant.

His mouth left yours only to press at your cheeks, going up to your temples, and then back down to kiss under your ear, then all over your neck. He just wanted to swallow you whole, but while he couldn't do that, he'd have to settle for kissing you all over.

He painted your neck with red marks, his lips sucking and leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach. Your hands went to his hair, sometimes tugging at his locks, sometimes caressing his scalp. He couldn't get enough of your touch, of your body against his, of your skin. He needed you.

You kept moving against him, rubbing yourself on his crotch to try and soothe the want you felt inside. You couldn't feel that much through your pants. They were thick to keep you warm, but you felt hot enough already.

Jason's hands around your waist lifted you up from his lap with ease, then guided you down to lay on your back on the couch, and you pushed some pillows to the floor on the process so you could fit better. He straddled your hips and pulled his shirt off all while you stared up at him with your pretty eyes.

You didn't hold back when you felt the urge to touch him, your fingers tracing his abs so carefully, caressing all of the skin you could reach without sitting up. His skin was littered with scars, and the ugly gash from before was healing slowly ─ it was still a red, long scar on his chest, its color showing that it wasn't fully healed yet, but much better than before. It wasn't that deep of a wound, but with him constantly having people beat him, neither of you expected it to heal quick and gracefully.

"I want you." You murmured quietly, a little embarrassed of your own words, but they were the ultimate truth. You wanted Jason and anything he could offer to you at that moment.

His eyes followed your hands, and he placed one of his on top of yours, pressing your fingers against his skin. "I'm yours." He whispered, and you wondered if he meant right now or from now on.

You looked back up in his eyes, and you felt heat pooling at your lower belly when you noticed the look in them. Like he wanted to consume you, and you wanted him to. Right now.

His hands lifted your shirt, bunching it up past your chest as he leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth while his fingers softly grazed the other, caressing it. You slipped your fingers in his hair again, pushing his head against you, and you felt him move his hips against yours once more.

With that, you could feel how much he wanted you as well, as the bulge in his thick pants pressed against you even through the heavy layers. You wanted those heavy layers off.

"Jason," you mumbled his name, hands gently squeezing his shoulders. "Take your pants off."

You heard him let out an amused huff at your request, and he went back up to his previous position, looking down at you. He guided your hands to his belt, and you knew what to do.

Swiftly, your fingers unbuckled it, pulled it out of the loops, and tossed it to the floor of your living room, you both heard as it landed on the mat with a soft thud. You went for his button next, then for the zipper. You caught a glimpse of his black boxers, salivating at the mere view of them.

He helped you push his pants down and then tossed them to the floor as well. When he was free of his, he yanked yours away without warning, making you let out a surprised yelp, in which he delighted himself.

He laughed at the sound you made while he removed your green socks, and you glared up at him for surprising you. "Not funny." You muttered, but he shrugged playfully at you.

He leaned down to nuzzle your neck after he removed your shirt as well, the gesture reaking of the affection he felt for you. His hands splayed on your stomach as his lips and nose caressed your senstive skin, and you squeezed at his arms, your legs sneaking past his and wrapping around his hips.

His hands went for your ankles, caressing the back of them as he dived back into your chest and then down to the valley in between your breasts, then to your stomach, and then to the place where you wanted him the most.

His hands went back up to your sides now, but he brought one down to caress you through your panties, brushing a finger over the damp spot in them, and then one over your clit. He smiled at how your thighs pressed on his shoulders and then at you when his eyes found yours.

He kept rubbing that same spot through the thin fabric, stimulating your clit, but not too much. He knew you wanted more, both of you did, but he wanted to savor that moment, and you appreciated that, even if you were dying for him to just pull those panties off and have his way with you.

Jason hooked one of his fingers onto the waistband of your underwear and finally pulled them off. Unlike the rest of his clothes, he didn't toss those on the floor, placing them on the beside you instead so you wouldn't have trouble looking for them later.

He looked down at you, exposed to him for the first time, his mouth salivating at the sight of you wet, swollen, and flush all because of him. He didn't have the strength to tease you anymore in that moment. He just dove in.

His hand that was toying with you before went back to your empty side, pulling your body closer to him so he could properly burrow his face in your pussy while he ate it, and then it moved to press at your lower stomach, urging your orgasm on. His tongue lapped at you, into your soaked folds and at your swollen bud, which he sucked so carefully to make you feel pleasure and only that.

He kept a steady rhythm, using your moans and gasps as a guide for his pace. Your fingers played with his hair while you rolled your hips against his face, rubbing your cunt on him, using his mouth for your pleasure. He was so good at that, at making you feel good.

He slipped his tongue inside of you once or twice to test the waters, and you whimpered at that. He couldn't wait to bury himself in you. He pulled away from your weeping cunt, only to slip his boxers off, revealing his flushed length.

You pushed up to your elbows to have a better view of him, and he looked divine from head to toe. The messy hair that you had been toying with, his flushed face, neck, and chest looked so good under the warm lighting of the room, his hard and leaking girth that looked like it was made to fit you, the pathetic needy expression on his face, and yours probably looked the same too.

He let you take your time, let you stare at him. Your eyes were hungry, and so here his. You looked all perfect down there, looking at him, with your cheeks flushed, lips parted, messy hair spilling on the pillow, your beautiful body and legs spread for him. God, he wanted you more than he ever wanted anything.

Jason licked his lips, and once he'd had enough of your staring contest, he pulled you closer again by the legs. He leaned down to capture your lips in a heated, needy kiss, each one of his hands being placed beside your head to support his body while it covered yours.

Your hips were aligned, and he purposefully let his throbbing cock brush your soaked heat, giving you a little taste. It all felt so good, so right. Your arms went around his neck while they could, tugging him close, pressing your chests together, squeezing your breasts against him.

"Pull out, right?" He mumbled into your mouth, his eyes looking hazy. You nodded lazily. "M'kay."

He reached down in betwen you, not wanting to separate his body from yours, he wanted to feel the heat of your chests together. Carefully, he slid the head of his dick in between your folds, dipping it in your juices and rubbing it on your clit to make you even more needy for it, and then slowly, he slid the tip into you, a satisfied groan leaving his mouth. It was surreal, it already felt so good and he wasn't even all the way in.

You sighed in satisfaction, your eyes closing and your head tipping back against the pillow. You scratched his back gently, the slow scrape of your nails on his skin matching the languid rhythm he used to slide into you, stretching out your channel with ease. You were so fucking wet. He was met with no resistance, you wanted him there.

Despite being your first time together, it didn't feel awkward. It didn't feel confusing or complicated. It was him and you, just like always. Comfortable.

He let you adjust to his size, his lips peppering your jaw with tender kisses as you got used to the stretch and waited for the mild burning sensation to cease. Felt so easy with him.

Jason felt you move against him, trying to fuck yourself on his cock, and he smiled on your soft skin. He pushed up again to look down at you, his arms still on either side of your head. With your legs around his hips, he started moving, meticulously thrusting into you, searching for the most sensitive spots, feeling every inch of your gummy, warm walls hugging his length.

It felt like heaven, finally being inside you. Everything with you was so good.

He picked up the pace as you started breathing heavier, your eyes closing as you let yourself enjoy every single thing about this moment, about him in you. Pistoning in and out of you in a needy rhythm, he grunted and groaned so deliciously, blessing your ears with his sounds.

You felt yourself nearing the edge even more with each thrust. It all felt so intense. He mirrored your feelings, his eyes squeezing shut as he held back his own release, trying to hold up so you could come together.

Neither of you could speak at that moment, not even to mumble words of praise, the pleasure consuming your minds with equal intensity, taking up every space in your brains. You couldn't delay it anymore.

Your walls clenched around him, and you gasped, whimpered, and moaned at the sensation. You couldn't control the sounds coming out of you. Your eyes closed once again as your lips stayed parted, heavy breaths coming out of them.

As you squeezed his cock in pleasure, Jason had to muster all of his self-control to be able to pull out of you before he spilled all of his seed inside of you and fucked everything up. He couldn't break your trust like that. He pulled out, and in less than a second, his white, hot, and thick cum spilled all over your stomach and pelvis. He'd never cum like that before, so desperately. The sounds he made while he let his liquid pour over your skin without even having to milk it out with his hand were ungodly, so fucking lewd.

"Fuck," Jason gasped, his head slumping forward as he panted on top of you. "S'good." He mumbled.

You cracked a small smile at that, fingers going back to scratching his back when you could finally concentrate on something other than your orgasm taking over your body.

"So good." You echoed, eyes closing as he rested his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in the mixture of your scent with the smell of sex in the air.

"I'm not moving from here." He warned in another lazy mumble, his arms snaking around your waist. You chuckled at him.

"Okay." You muttered softly, one of your hands going to play with his hair. "We'll stay here."

"We'll stay here." He echoed your words as well, letting out a tired yet satisfied sigh.

Your eyes drifted up for the window for a second, and you noticed it was snowing again outside. It was all so magical, even if you were feeling sweaty and sticky.

You sighed, the sight of the snow falling relaxing you as well as Jason's body on top of yours, warming you up.

Wait, was the window open all this time?

☆

a.n: hello! I hope this is cohesive enough and not too too fast. it's my first time ever writing smut, so i really wanted to focus on that. thanks for reading!

[httpskuzuu]

Crybaby

I'd like to think I've gotten better at writing things like this

Fyodor x Reader

idk english, bye

summary: Fyodor always likes to test your limits

tw: NSFW, afab reader but no gender specified, vaginal sex, orgasm denial, bondage, over-stimulation, creampie, everything is consensual, aftercare at the end because it is the minimum

Besides his partner, you were his little experiment.

Fyodor didn't hold you in the highest regard at first, weak and sensitive as you were, it was no surprise that you didn't earn even the slightest respect from him. The only thing he saw you useful for was to observe your reactions.

What face would you make if he did that to you? Would you cry if he did this to you? Do you have any boundaries that would make you break down completely? It was fun for the man, not so much for you. But you let that happen, you didn't have a single complaint to say to him, what were you thinking of saying to someone like Fyodor?

You still don't understand how you ended up in a relationship with him, but to be fair, he doesn't quite figure it out either. Maybe it was how easy it was to get attached to you, with your usual kindness and sympathy for your fellow man, maybe it was your interest that called him, how you were always so attentive to his needs and how submissive you were.

Now, your dear fiancé wanted to take his experiments into another area.

Fyodor lovingly kept the sight before his eyes, the ropes wrapped so perfectly around your wrists, your naked and vulnerable body, for his eyes only, and those encapsulated tears wanting to come out of your eyes. You are perfect for him, so pure he can't resist corrupting you.

His mouth returned to your chest, first giving his full attention to your nipples making you squirm, and then he began to move up, making a path of kisses until he reached your ear. You shuddered with the sensation of his breath so close to you.

"What's wrong, dear? Is it too much for you?" His voice didn't help your current state, it was unfairly sexy. You feel the warmth between your legs spread apart by Fyodor, you wish you could close them and feel the friction that act would give you.

"Fyodor…" You sob pathetically, your breath trembling as his hands caress your sides. Slowly, his hand grasps one of your breasts and squeezes it, causing you to gasp in surprise.

Before you can think clearly, Fyodor moves inside you again. His pushes were slow and controlled, as if having left you on the edge didn't affect him at all. You curse him to yourself as the tears finally fall, it's too much, it doesn't allow you to have a single coherent thought in your head, you can only focus on how you want Fyodor's cock to bring you to orgasm.

"Come on, маленькая мышка. Use your words."

Fyodor gently kisses your salty cheeks, giving you a small comfort so that within seconds he grabs you by the hips and lifts you up. You can't control the sounds you make as you feel Fyodor so deeply.

His assaults go from calm to fast, crashing his pelvis against yours and causing obscene noises to fill the room. Your back arches in pleasure and you try to struggle against the ropes, the fact that you couldn't hold on to anything because you were tied to the headboard was frustrating. You need to grab and claw at something, to be able to release at least a little bit of everything you were feeling.

"Ah! Please!" You can't even speak properly and you try to hold on to nothing while Fyodor comes so deep in your needy pussy. You don't remember how many times you were so close to touching orgasm and Fyodor denied you, you couldn't take it anymore. "L-Let me cum! I'll do anything!"

If Fyodor could keep this moment forever, he would. You are a pathetic little thing in his sight, with those tears staining your whole face and your eyes lost in pleasure.

Decide he's tortured you enough. Your plea is too sweet to his ears and touches his soft side, so this time he doesn't stop when he notices your higher-pitched voice or when your walls clench so tightly around him. Unlike before, he became faster when he hit you, especially when he felt that he also touched his limit.

You joined your lips in a messy kiss. You weren't even able to concentrate properly on that.

Fyodor's fingers playing with your clit was the last thing you needed to cum at that moment with a loud moan, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes, lost in delight.

After a few more deep thrusts given to your already overstimulated pussy, you feel Fyodor cum inside you, filling your insides with warm liquid.

Fyodor drops your hips onto the bed and kisses your forehead as he gives himself a few seconds to breathe naturally again. You just lie there on the bed, ruined. He pulls out of you and before long you feel the strange sensation of his semen coming out of you, but you're too tired to care.

Your eyes close, but you can feel Fyodor untie your injured wrists. You leave them immobile on the sides of your head, you can bet that they will surely get a red hue in a few seconds.

You don't know how much time passed, but you spent it in a state of semi-consciousness until Fyodor's hand on your back made you alert.

"Come on, дорогой. Have some water." You open your eyes between complaints. The man helps you to sit up in a sitting position and tips the glass full of water into your mouth. It doesn't take you a second to drink it. You feel how the cold water helps your throat, exhausted from screaming.

"Are you alright? Was I too hard?" You snort with a smile and rest your sleepy head on his bare shoulder. His hand caresses your back reassuringly.

"I'm fine, just very tired. My wrists do hurt a little, though." You see how bruises are already appearing on them. Maybe having used such a tight rope had been a bad idea, but you hadn't really been able to notice the pain before.

"Mmmh… Next time I'll be sure to get something softer." He says thoughtfully, dropping his face into your messy hair. "Maybe some velvet handcuffs will suit you."

He picks up one of your wrists with his free hand and brings it to his smiling lips, kissing it.

"I'm sure they would."

"But now, ideally, we'd better take a bath, okay, дорогой?" You complain uselessly because within minutes you are already inside the bathtub together with Fyodor, with him on your back.

You close your eyes, too relaxed to worry about cleaning yourself, you might as well leave that job to Fyodor. He notices how slowly your breaths slow and your body relaxes against his.

He decides not to bother you, he's annoyed you enough today. This time it's his turn to take care of you

it is 6 a.m., what am I doing

[hryniewiecki]

Grand Arcane S2 review

because I really need it to move on

Remember how I mentioned I could write an entire book about everything that went wrong with this season? Well, this is what a little excerpt from it would look like.

Let's start with a personal note to clarify my relationship with this hell of a piece of media.

S1 was this miracle show that was able to break through the several years of depression and anhedonia and make me interested in something, make me try to get back into making art (or at least try to try), to put myself out there on the internet a bit, to try be a part of something and not ashamed of enjoying it, which I never allowed myself before. Coincidentally, I've been at what I thought then was the worst place in my life when it aired and it helped me a lot to get through it. I didn't even think I would make it to see S2, as thee years felt like forever then. Taking all that into consideration, I think you can already tell where this is going.

I honestly thought I was prepared for S2 not being good, as no show could be this perfect. Turns out I wasn't prepared at all. Act 1 made me very happy, so happy I watched it two times, but the rest is something I would've never watch again and rather forget about.

The characters I wanted to see the most were Warwick (body horror, The Wrath of Zaun haunting the streets - got just a glimpse of that, but it felt like nothing) and Viktor (cyborgs and cyber gore, misunderstood idealist, Blitzcrank - got basically nothing; the idea was kinda there somewhere, but got changed so much it didn't matter at all).

I can't believe they took a godforsaken champion like Viktor and not only ruined his story completely, but also managed to fuck up everything else by all of a sudden making him a center of all of this mess. The center being the arcane/hextech/magic, which never even gets resolved/explained. Still no idea why it got corrupted and what was the nature of it; the void was never taken anywhere despite being heavily hinted - everything was evil because it was, but luckily the magic of friendship saved us!! (I'll get to that)

Speaking of crucial plotlines that weren't taken anywhere.. Basically every character got screwed over and made empty. Let's use Vi for a quick example (may not actually be the best example, but hopefully you'll get what I mean) - when I saw the pit fighter scene released early, I expected to see it have a continuation in the show, but instead it ended up just being the exact same music video, nothing more. And that goes for some more events - they get compressed into music videos that make it all incredibly hollow. Fight scenes are fine like this, sure, but not something that was supposed to be a bit more emotional and serious. Anyway, they successfully made me hate most of the characters. Either hate or just straight up not recognize them, and in a bad way.

Long story short the pacing is awful (it only gets back to normal in ep7, as it resembles the structure of S1) and the writing sucks ass. I can't for the love of god believe it was written alongside S1. There's no way in hell - it's literally all the worst fan theories I've seen come to life and get mixed with fanservice. *puts on a tinfoil hat* Maybe this is the real why they needed an extra year or two, as S2 was initially supposed to be released earlier. No way in hell the same people who wrote S1 and cared so much about the characters would do anything like this. Riot must've gotten heavily involved, making us believe they cut the story short (I think 5 seasons in Piltover/Zaun were planned initially?) for the benefit of it, but all it really was is greed - let's make a bunch of bullshit happen and quickly move to another region to sell more skins for new champions.

Now let's get back to the ending. Man, it really had it all - the nonsense, the multiverse bullshit which basically makes nothing make sense anymore (if there was anything left), the (yes, I'm going to say it, because that's exactly what I felt) cringe and embarrassment. Never seen anything more hollow trying to convince me it was deep and emotional (sums up the whole show perfectly).

How the hell the only thing that was supposed to save Viktor from himself was Jayce telling him he's perfect the way he is? Sure, don't try to cure your illness (that my city caused, but "fortunately" another crucial part of the plot, which is the sister cities conflict, ceased to exist), it makes you beautiful, this is who you are (miserable, unwanted, feeling meaningless and like a burden, dying). I am at loss of words.

Now buckle up jayvik fans. I wasn't a fan of the ship as I'm not a fan of any ships in general, but now I despise it. I wouldn't mind if they actually went on with it, which no, they didn't. We don't want two men kissing (women making out is fine tho, won't make the gamers too angry), so let's play extra safe to make sure it could be explained as any type of other close bond (and that's exactly what Christian Linke does when asked about it). You disgusting cowards, either you show me this in plain sight and I wouldn't give it a second thought, or don't even try bring it up at all (and you can't deny it wasn't implied in S1 with all the Viktor's looks and parallels to Mel).

Where do I even begin? Because I don't think you have any idea on how many levels it actually sucks. If you read it as romantic it's basically telling me that if I was a gay man struggling with my feelings and not being able to confess for years, because I'm convinced I'm unworthy of love as something is inherently wrong with me, then the best I could get after surviving all this (what honestly seems like hell) is a hug, because you're ashamed of me and thus I should be ashamed of who I am till the very end.

Something equally bad is Jayce finding out (or rather we finding out) how wonderful the world could look like if he let go of his beautiful dream, his life's work, and killed himself - it never gets denied, as the corruption of hextech doesn't get explained.

Long story short, if you're struggling with your mental health, trauma issues, disability or any of the problems the characters you related to deal with, this show spits you in the face.

I could go on forever about everything that's wrong (even Jinx got played dirty), but let's finish with the few things I liked: act 1 was promising (it's when I believed they could still make sense of Viktor), fun Sevika's arcade arm fight, the epic fight at the Janna's temple (Woodkid goat), Jayce killing Salo (I felt something) and Jayce's glitchy madness in general, young Vander flashback (felt something), ep7 and Singed's story (the only one that makes any sense).

Other than that the show left me with nothing but void in my heart (I guess that's when it all went). The saddest thing being the masses love it anyway, as it seems they'll watch anything that's colorful enough. And Riot will make lots of money of off it, because in the end they never loose. I'm not denying Fortiche absolutely outdid themselves with the art, it's just heartbreaking nothing else even remotely stands up to it.

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Jeon Jungkook Perspective Reading

Disclaimer: No facts here, just a messenger of the cards and my interpretation of what I get.

Now, on to the next member of BTS for this reading. His energy can be a bit messy for me, so let's see if we go deeper into who he is. So, the song he gave me was Goriila by Bruno Mars, that is a pretty sexual song, so I was like, nah, give me something deeper and got Sexy Back by Justin Timberlake and Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye and gave up. Dude likes sex, just saying it and the sexual appeal, but he may also enjoy the intimacy of it with a romantic partner. He may not just be into sex with anyone, maybe with his particular person, anyway, let's see if we get something more in the cards.

Ugh, I am not liking what I am getting here, crap. So, we start with Temple of My body, this is giving me sexualized energy. Now, we know how sexualized he is, but do we know how sexualized, if you catch my drift. I can't move past the first card, because I am creeped out by this energy. I hate that I am getting this energy. Ya'll I want to cry, anyway, I really don't want to beat around the bush with this one. I am so scared to say this, but I just keep hearing Justin Bieber in my head if you know his story, then you know. Now, he is a fan of him, but I don't think that is why his name keeps popping up. The Temple of my Body card has the number 2, which reminds me of the 2 of Wands and I am getting sexual favors from that. Now, with the next card triumph of lies, lies wins over, everything around him is a lie, or they sell a story about him, or they sell him lies. Now, with the Sacrifice card, I mean, hello, sacrifice, being a sacrifice. Or having to sacrifice himself. With Black Flower Fragrance, he is hardened, this may have led him to dark places or opened up a void and darkness in him. I am sorry, but this is pissing me off. I really hate what I am getting, and I hope to god, I am wrong here. This could explain his messy ass energy. His story reminds me of Justin Bieber legit, it is his story all over again. I hate that these readings goes how I expect it to go. I knew I was in trouble when that first card came out. Anyway, this could also be a reason for his sexual nature, victims tend to be hypersexual. Allegedly, no facts here. But I call it how I see; I am not sugarcoating anything. Okay, I need to pull out the Conscious healing deck, because he needs healing energy.

Okay, what I am getting is there is patterns, cycles, maybe coping strategies that he may need to release. I see the circle on this one card, and I see things spiraling or a continuous loop for him, a lack of conclusion for him. I mean, I totally get it, very hard to heal from things like that, and face it. If that is what he went through. But this is telling him he needs to move forward. There is a lack of confidence he does have, a sense he isn't good enough or worthy. He may just see himself as a pretty face, or sexy body, that is all people may want for him, so he may see himself as that. He may feel people may not care about what he thinks, and by people, I mean the higher powers. People in control. This makes me sad. It seems there is a bubble, a protective shield he has built, which makes sense, so he makes it hard for people to come close to him, which once again, makes sense. It is like he built a safety net for himself. He should work on clearing away anything in his life he doesn't need, be it people, things, habits or situations. I am looking at this card and what I feel he should do is go on some retreat, in nature, away from all the bullshit and business of his life, that is what he needs, now would he get that, probably not, he makes too much money for these clowns for them to let him do that, but I feel that can help him heal.

So, what I find interesting is that he got similar cards to Wonyoung with this deck, who may have experienced things similar to him, so that intrigues me. These cards are saying that he can rise above whatever has happened if he allows kindness in. If he can allow himself to connect with his spirituality and tap into his feminine energy. To allow his creativity and passion to drive him in a positive direction. There is an opportunity for him to find love and a happy ending if he allows someone in. There is growth and abundance for him. He should work on communicating from the heart and show love towards himself and others. There is abundance for him. It could be an abundance of love, happiness, or success, whatever that could mean for him.

I feel these cards here are telling him to connect with his spirituality. I feel connecting with a higher power would be significant/beneficial for him. He would need to do some introspection and reflection and also learn to allow his intuition to guide him more and learn to listen to it, but there is this guard he has, this hostile energy, vengeful, aggressive energy he holds on to. He feels he needs to be on defense. To protect himself. All understandable, but it does halt him from healing. There is still anger and frustration within him. He should work on healing his heart, being more emotionally open and to not be too in his head and too analytical. I feel this is regards to his relationships. There could be opportunities for love with him, but he tends to overanalyze things and things don't move forward.

There is this need for him to find himself, to love and accept himself. But there is a need for closure for him to be able to find that peace within him. When he is able to find that closure and to close that chapter. He will be able to find strength. To gain his power back. This is a time for him to transform himself. To become a better version of himself. To break out of the cocoon they created for him. There is a lot of stress and tension built within him. He may need to practice breath work to help him through this process. There is this need for him to control others, the narrative, this may be in relationships. As he may not have much control in other matters of his life, or even body. He may need the control in his relationships to balance that. But that creates problems in his relationships. I can see him being clingy as well, and that can be a problem as well.

Alright, let's finalize this with Tarot. Interest combo of cards, so these cards give me an indication of someone speaking out and wanting to make changes, so he may do that. He may speak out about the struggles of the industry. With the Queen of Swords, he tends to be good at detaching from his emotions, people can do that once traumatized, but some people are just this way. I am just getting from this card and the King of Wands, is sharing information, speaking up, not sure where this is coming from, or if he will, but his energy wants to share, to speak to the masses and share his story. Not sure, he would tell the full story though. I am just getting there could be something he says that may change things. He is the type that wants to confront things and create some sort of movement. But he is also bold and willing to face any challenges that come his way. Loving this ending energy. Now, he does have this energy, but these cards could indicate it is something he should do, but may not do, because there are insecurities that may hold him back.

Okay, why I love these reading is because it helps me understand the idol so much more, but the first part was difficult as it always tends to be. But he comes off as a bad ass in the end. It just gives me more of an understanding to why they behave the way they do in my shorter readings.

[brynn-lear]

for those who are looking which of these games have yandere endings, allow me to kindly add them in a read more :D

Cupid Parasite: Gill Lovecraft

The most consistent yandere-vibes from Lock's recommendations. Gill's I would say leans so much on pathetic sad dog yandere and irl stalker that the otome game community is very divided on him (and a majority of us are yandere/trash husbando fans lol).

You'll spend most of his routes looking at how much he's a loser (/aff) who simps for his former roommate. I mean, he's trying to get over you but the heavens might quite literally be playing with him— cause how can he move on when you're his matchmaker???????

Cupid Parasite is so silly and so fun, highly recommend for those who love romcoms.

Piofiore: Nicola (Bad End)

Note: don't search his name on google images cause one of the first things you'll see is his CG for the bad end. Do not spool yourself lol.

Oooh how I love this man. Him and Dante are my faves [and Roberto. Lord. I love Roberto so much why isn't he a love interest?!?!?]

I won't spoil much, but his bad ending is 🥰. Plus Piofiore is such a good game anyways, it's worth trying out. If you like mafia men that are trash and would definitely kill you in other routes (sometimes their own too aHEM MISTER CHINESE KEBAB)— this game is for you.

Olympia Soiree: Kuroba (Bad End)

Ngl I remember the yandere end for this one being relatively short, but Kuroba along with Byakuya are my faves so I didn't really mind. If you like your fics with some sort of "chosen one" flair to it, OS is for you <3.

Don't get it twisted though, the game makes it a point to show time and time again how much their color system destroys the people [definitely feels like a metaphor for racism-]

Even if Tempest: Crius Castlerock (Bad End)

TW: childhood abuse/neglect, cannibalism, straight up every route has murder since this is literally a Phoenix Wright fantasy otome game, blood, unending angst you can't escape from if you want to see a single good ending, etc. For the amount of girlbossing and (justifyable?) crimes the heroine had done [and lord she's such a pretty androgynous girlie], the game is very refreshing.

LOOK AT MY BABIIIIESSS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

If you love suffering, I highly recommend this game because the plot is amazing. It does not hold back as much. It's not like Black Wolves Saga's level of "dead dove: do not eat" but man will it surprise you.

Crius definitely feels overprotective even in routes outside his. As an older brother figure-esque, he has this tendency to help you out without question [this fact will hurt you later.] His bad end? I'm a simp. And I like the hurt it gives. 10/10. Also him in the fandisk is 🤌🤌🤌🤌. Everyone in that game is so loveable.

I play a whole lot of localized switch otome games and let me just say, he's gotta be part of my top 5— and some people on that list are there for nostalgia's sake (Hi Tokimeki Memorial). Crius is great. Much love.

Bonus route: Steam Prison - Fin Euclase

I shit you not, bro is a yandere in every route but his. I am not joking. The amount of Love Interests that had fallen from his hands— meanwhile in his route he's a struggling wholesome puppy just trying to survibe the underworld. I love him but I cannot be with him simply because I'm not content with just seeing him happy, I wanna see that broken side again /silly

I forgot to mention: I wouldn't say CxM has a yandere route [I say that as someone whose faves are Okazaki and Shiraishi, who keeps being typed as yanderes when they're deranged at best /j]

... Buuut there is a bad end where it feels like Hoshino/the MC is a yandere for our poster boy :)

lock's otome game recs

i received some asks indicating an interest in a compilation of my favorite otome games, so i decided to go for it!! i've played about fourteen otome games, but of those fourteen, only these six left a lasting impression on me. there are still some that i intend to check out, so the rankings may update in the future. i'll give a very general overview of each game and how i'd score the categories that i find the most important in an otome game — the heroine, story, art, enjoyability, along with the characters i liked the most.

number 6 - piofiore fated memories.

heroine: 6/10 story: 6.5/10 characters: 7/10 art: 10/10 enjoyability: 8/10 favorite characters: dante (ishikawa kaito), nicola (kimura ryouhei) and yang (okamoto nobuhiko)

this game centers around the heroine, with the default name liliana adornato, who finds herself entangled in the politics of the region's three most prominent crime organizations. the game has an italian backdrop and iirc, takes place in the 1930s.

the overarching narrative, while it has its fair share of intrigue, isn't the game's strongest point. it's the interactions with the characters themselves that made the game feel worthwhile. each love interest has more to them than what meets the eye, so it's satisfying to watch the relationship between them and the heroine develop.

the heroine takes a passive role throughout much of the game, events sorta just happen to her. still, she has a kind disposition that makes her likable and doesn't make stupid decisions that has you wanting to fling your console across the room. her characterization changes slightly depending on the route. for instance, without getting into spoilers, she's more assertive throughout yang's route. the resulting dynamic made yang's route the most memorable, even if he's my third favorite character from the bunch.

what feels unique to this game is the effort put into the bad endings. in most visual novels, bad endings can feel like gimmicks. you make one or two wrong decisions and you're rewarded with a few paragraphs. the downward spiral of the characters in the bad endings are decently fleshed out and you can see how they arrived at this 'worst' version of themselves. they're suitably dark and it shouldn't come as a surprise that i enjoyed them because of that 😭

then there's the art. it's stunning, the details in each CG are mindboggling. the heroine gets to wear a variety of pretty outfits which is something i like to see. even in the story's weaker moments, a stunning CG would pop up that had me forgiving everything. i still glance through the gallery to this day.

number five - cupid parasite.

heroine: 9.5/10 story: 7/10 characters: 7/10 art: 9/10 enjoyability: 9/10 favorite characters: ryuki keisaiin (junya enoki) & gill lovecraft (kimura ryouhei)

iconic. showstopping. a little bit camp.

cupid parasite stars one of my favorite heroines, lynette. she works as a bridal advisor whose ambition is to ensure everyone finds their soulmate. in actuality, she's the goddess cupid, who left her post in celestia to better understand humanity and create lasting pairs. she's a delight to play as.

this game's presentation and overall aesthetic is the most distinct from any otome game i've played. aside from the presentation, the story itself is unlike any of the others on this list. when it comes to romance, i typically prefer them to be dark and mature. this game opts for a more lighthearted approach. it vacillates between being a romcom and dipping into the absurdist genre. there were times i was literally left speechless (glances at gill's route)... but it makes for an entertaining experience. the game's plenty funny as well.

personally, i enjoyed the more grounded moments when the mythological elements remained in the background. because of this, the true ending doesn't do it for me as much as they do in other games. as with anything, this is a personal preference though. i liked all of the routes and found the game handles the development of each love interest well. we're introduced to these men at their most pathetic and get to help them become a little more well-adjusted. lowering the cringe meter, if you will. it makes their growth all the most satisfying as the narrative progresses.

number four - even if tempest.

heroine: 9/10 story: 8.5/10 characters: 8/10 art: 6/10 enjoyability: 9/10 favorite characters: the heroine herself, tyril i lister (noriaki sugiyama), crius castlerock (makoto furukawa) and lucien neuschburn (kaito ishikawa)

right from the get-go, this game's premise had me hooked. it features the heroine, anastasia (<3!), who leads an incredibly tragic life. she's bestowed the ability to reverse time following each of her deaths and uses this to unravel a mess of mysteries the world's setting is tangled in.

this game is absolutely anastasia's story. without spoiling anything, i loved the approach they took with the time rewinding ability. how it's incorporated is unique to an otome game, which they take full advantage of to amplify the tragic romances. on that note, the romance itself occasionally takes a backseat to the narrative as a whole. personally, i didn't mind this in the moment, since i found the story so interesting. in retrospect, i do wish that we got more moments between the heroine and each love interest, especially in the true ending.

there are more gameplay elements here as well. you have to conduct investigations, gather evidence, and apply what you've learned during these trial segments. when i first read about this, i thought it'd be a gimmick, but i liked playing through them. it incentivizes you to pay extra close attention to the world.

while i liked the narrative as a whole, i do wish we got more worldbuilding. there are hints of political subterfuge and religious oligarchy that, while touched upon, could've been leaned into more to give the setting a distinct feeling.

number three - olympia soiree

heroine: 8/10 story: 8/10 characters: 8/10 art: 10/10 enjoyability: 10/10 favorite characters: akaza (yoshitsugu matsuoka), himuka (shun horie), and yosuga (yuma uchida)

in olympia soirée, the eponymous heroine, olympia, lives in a society divided into castes based on colors. she is the last surviving member of a clan that can perform rituals to keep the sun aglow. this game is a lengthier title, i believe i clocked in around 25 ish hours (i don't use auto-play so that sheds some time). the story benefits from this, as olympia has rich worldbuilding and lore that's revealed throughout the route's progression.

we get to see the consequences of this caste system and olympia's growth as she becomes determined to realize a better future for the islands. this makes the heroine someone that you want to root for. personally, i'm a sucker for stories that center around a sheltered individual being forced to face the harsh realities of the world and maturing in their own way. this, paired with the struggles specific to this setting, make for a gripping backdrop for the character's routes. all the love interests have problems of their own that they need to address.

this is certainly a mature title, there's plenty of steamy scenes featuring gorgeous artwork. seriously... all the pretty CGs are absolute eye candy. i enjoyed the balance between the main narrative and the development of the romantic relationships, i don't remember ever feeling bored.

ironically enough, i think this is the darkest game from the bunch listed here, surpassing the game with actual horror elements. there's a whole litany of trigger warnings to be mindful of when going through the game's bad ends. they are, as the term suggests, Bad. not light or humorous in the slightest. the poor heroine goes through it. please be mindful of these more touchy subjects.

number two - 9 r.i.p

heroine: 8/10 story: 8/10 characters: 9/10 art: 10/10 enjoyability: 10/10 favorite characters: minami (nobuhiko okamoto), hibiki (shunichi toki), kureha (toshiki masuda), and koyo (ryota suzuki)

i was looking forward to the english localization of this game before it was even announced ... i'd been wanting an otome game with this vibe for ages. and it didn't disappoint! there are four different overarching story sections, with two characters each having their routes fall under them. this makes it difficult to give a summary since each route has a vastly different feel. some routes lean heavy into supernatural horror (such as hibiki and kureha), whereas others are just... supernatural (like with yukimaro and koharu).

the basic premise is that the main character, misa, is a high school girl burdened with her career survey. she's uncertain what she wants for the future and is being pressured by his mother to pursue a career in medicine. in one way or another, depending on the story section, she comes into contact with the afterlife and those who inhabit it.

i loved this game, i couldn't put it down. the routes that leaned heavy into horror were my favorites, which shouldn't be a surprise lol. i do feel some love interests were given preferential treatment of others, i wanted more from sena's storyline in particular, since he's voiced by one of my favorite VAs (tetsuya kakihara, the voice of scaramouche) 😭... apparently this game is receiving a fandisc, so hopefully they'll remedy that in the future.

minami stole the show for me. from what i've gauged online, he's a divisive character, you either find him grating or love him (like i do). i'm biased but i do think he has the most interesting and well-written story out of the love interests, i've played through it three times already. i just adored the dynamic between him and the heroine. he's petulant, selfish, and a bit immature, yet he goes to extremes for her as he realizes his unhinged feelings.

hibiki is a close second. the most yandere-coded of the bunch, he's soft-spoken and polite, but that exterior hides a creepy personality. like all of the characters in this game, there's a tragic element to him. i was worried about the role the heroine would play in helping him 'overcome' this, but i think they handled it well. it doesn't feel like the heroine's fixing him so much as she's helping him have a different perspective on certain events.

yeah i'm not normal about this game, i cannot recommend it enough. it would've taken the top slot if some of the routes were a bit more polished. i didn't care for yukimaro's at all, for example. routes like minami's, hibiki's, and koyo's more than make up for it though.

number one - collar x malice

heroine: 10/10 story: 10/10 characters: 10/10 art: 10/10 enjoyability: 10/10 favorite characters: takeru sasazuka (daisuke namikawa), kei okazaki (yuki kaji), and aiji yanagi (masakazu morita)

the holy grail. the otome games that died for our sins. this isn't just a good otome game, it's an excellent story, with a very human cast, commentary on issues like the nature of crime, and you're left wanting to solve the various mysterious as much as the heroine does. speaking of the heroine, miss hoshino ichika is my all-time favorite heroine. she's clever, resolute, compassionate, and you can't help but fall in love with her a little yourself 😭😭

i'm not sure if this makes sense, but the world feels very... full? you get this sense that ichika exists outside just interacting with the love interests. she has her career, friends, and her younger brother that act as more than passing NPCs. the writers ensured all the characters with portraits are given some level of depth. i left caring about more characters than the heroine and love interests.

each route is dedicated to working through a certain case, which keeps the story intriguing as you progress. finally, all of the little hints that have been littered throughout coalesce into the 'true' route, where questions you've had since the first chapter are given satisfactory conclusions. at the same time, you're left wondering about a few things, such as the complete philosophy of the main antagonist.

ichika's relationship with each of the love interests develops alongside the case they're investigating, which almost always have connections or parallels to the LI's past. this helped ground them in reality and flesh them out into dynamic characters. you come to care deeply about them alongside ichika. the romance feels earned and doesn't come on too fast, which some otome games suffer from.

if you like otome games and haven't played collar x malice yet, i fully recommend it!!!!!!!! it's the strongest title from what i've played so far.

[rey-jake-therapist]

I didnt realize Payne clarified that Sauron wanted Galadriel to be *his* queen. I've seen some antis insist that he wasn't attracted to her in the least so he meant to say 'I can make you A queen, but not MY queen'.

And they were also going on how there's a hierarchy in the film industry, in which certain positions hold more narrative and directional authority despite what actors and lower level exec's say. That's why they kept using this hierarchy that Payne and McKay override Charlotte's words about haladriel. But if we go by the Anti's information, then that confirms that Sauron did want Galadriel as HIS QUEEN (love or not), since its stated exactly that way by Payne himself. If not, then why didn't he say 'A queen with me', or 'A queen by my side', instead? There are other ways he could've phrased. Even if you say that he used 'basically', that still doesn't change the fact that Payne made it clear that Sauron wanted Galadriel to rule WITH him, not by some corner of ME (I know we're kind of ignoring Gal atm to dissect the wording but I see them as fictional characters not real people lol). It also kind of overrides some of Charlie's earlier remarks where he denies or subverts Sauron's intention regarding making her queen. But it echoes back to what you said though, that things change over time.

And just to make it clear, we don't need to necessarily obey what showrunners/actors have said and treat it like it's a hard rule for how we interpret these characters. This is just an interesting piece of info I think should be pointed out. Especially since haters will find anything to try to minimize and invalidate haladriel. I feel very sad (for them lol).

Well, I'll answer that by saying that first, I don't think that I can do that ignoring Gal's response, simply because what she answered is important to understand why Sauron didn't say "my" queen, imho.

I think we can't leave Galadriel outside of the loop here, because the phrasing used by Sauron is directly connected to the way she herself used. She said, "you would make me A tyrant", to which he naturally answers, "I would make you A queen". Then she's the one using the "MY" : "And you. MY king".

What I think, it's that the writers wanted to highlight the fact that them being together as king and queen/husband and wife was her idea as much as his. I think it's important for the interpretation of that scene, for the audience to realize that Galadriel wanted this.

Let's say Sauron had said, "I would make you MY queen", and she had answered, "And you would be the king" : it would have sounded like something that was forced on her : she would have been his wife in this scenario, wether she wanted it or not. It would have given "forced marriage" vibes, and would have deprived Galadriel of her agency. And believe me : if the antis are now using this scene against shippers because Sauron didn't say "my queen", you can be sure that they would have weaponized this scene even more if they could have interpreted it that way.

With Galadriel being the one who says, "And you. My king", it says that she was seeing herself ruling with him, as queen and king and as husband and wife. Notice that he didn't correct her, as it was probably what he wanted to hear.

It also kind of overrides some of Charlie's earlier remarks where he denies or subverts Sauron's intention regarding making her queen.

I mean, I don't know if it overrides it. Charlie first denied that it was a marriage proposal, but later admitted that this was "de facto" exactly that.

"Sauron, meanwhile, won’t make the mistake of connecting with someone ever again, not after Galadriel’s rejection of his de facto “marriage proposal,” as Vickers describes it, at the end of Season 1. “He’s moved on to bigger and better things” since, Vickers argues, but try as they might, there’s no denying their entwined fates.  "Galadriel and Sauron share the deepest connection to another being either of them has ever experienced, a fact that haunts them both in the new episodes. What they share “is greater than romance,” Vickers explains. “Their connection runs far deeper than anything surface level.”

Source

Now if you refer to the fact that Charlie claimed several times that if Galadriel had accepted his offer, she would have been nothing more than his secretary, another shiny ring at his hand, I also don't think that it contradicts the idea that he wanted her to be at his side as a queen. I often read that Charlie's wrong, because Sauron is a Maiar who was created to follow and serve. So by this logic, he wanted to worship Galadriel like he worshipped Morgoth.

I think it's true, for most of it, and we saw it during all season 1 : who called all the shots ? Galadriel did. Who followed her despite his initial refusal ? Sauron. She wanted him to be a king ? He made himself a king. She wanted him to go rescue the Southlands with her ? He went with her, even if first, he didn't want to ! The fact that it was in his personal interest to do that is besides the point : at no moment did he try to force her into doing anything. It's not in his nature, and being in his repetant era then, Sauron was more inclined to listen to his nature than we saw him be in season 2. In season 1, Sauron was the happiest we saw of him so far, especially when he was at the forge, doing what he was created for, but also when he followed Galadriel on the battlefield :

I mean, words have their importance especially when it comes to Sauron, who never chooses his words randomly :

She "pushed" him. He described here exactly what a leader does. After Morgoth's defeat, he found himself leaderless, and he was lost because due to his nature, what he really wants/needs is someone who takes the lead. In Galadriel, he recognized someone who had the potential to do just that. In season 2, we saw him in a position of leadership, manipulating everybody like a puppet to make them do everything he wanted, yada yada. And yet, that was his face for 99% of the season :

He seemed as alive as a dead fish.

Now, where my opinion often diverges from what seems to be this most popular opinion, is that I believe Charlie's nevertheless right regarding the turn their partnership as king and queen would have taken, had Galadriel accepted. Thousands of years ago, Mairon was corrupted by Morgoth, and as time passed, I think he developed a desire to overrule Morgoth, because that's what this kind of corruption does : it gives an hunger for power, even to beings who are not originally meant to want it. As Sauron, he was given an incommensurable power over others, and he enjoyed it. He always followed Morgoth and never betrayed him (probably because he had sworn a blood oath to him, preventing him to take any action against him), but he grew extremely frustrated of his methods, as he had a different vision.

And of course he did, because destroying was, again, not what he was created for. What Morgoth did, and asked him to do, went against his nature. As apprentice of Aulë, he became skilled at crafting and making things. When Celebrimbor told him his only craft was treachery, it must have hit HARD, because it wasn't always the case.

(Aside note : I was a bit annoyed that Celebrimbor was the one who got to hit Sauron where it hurt the most, while Galadriel only got a pathetic "heal yourself" that couldn't mean anything to him because they never had any conversation about his corruption by Melkor).

He started dreaming of the idea that if Morgoth was ever to disappear, he would take his place and rule in his stead, and that's exactly what he tried to do once Morgoth was defeated :

As we saw, it didn't turn out very well. Why ? I think, because Sauron wasn't Morgoth, he wasn't a born dictator, and he didn't manage to inspire enough fear of him to Adar and the Orcs, only resentment, so when he tried to put Morgoth's crown on his head, they betrayed him.

(idk but maybe looking like a twink didn't help. Just sayin')

But it doesn't mean that Sauron gave up on his dream of ruling, though. So I think that when he decided that he wanted Galadriel to be his queen, he was probably torn between what his nature dictated him to do (giving her all the power she needed to have to be THE queen of Middle-Earth, while he would get the follower's role he had beside Morgoth back), and the ambitions he nourished of ruling Middle-Earth himself, leaving only crumbs to Galadriel like Morgoth did to him. Even in this scenario, he would have shared his power with her, but not enough to take the reigns of the kingdom.

We can't know what would have happened, we can only speculate, but I tend to side with Charlie on this one because at the beginning, there's a clear power imbalance between them : Sauron is a powerful Maiar, a demigod, and Galadriel is just an Elf. For her to become as powerful as him and be his equal, would have required him to willingly share the entirety of his power with her. Would have he done that, while he had all these ideas about healing Middle-Earth and believed he and only he knew exactly how to do it... ?

I mean, the only thing we can be sure of, it is that it was his intention to give her plenty of power. He wanted everybody not to just respect her, but to worship her like a goddess. It's the extent of this power that we don't know about. And did he want to be worshipped too ? I'd say, probably yes, personally.

Sorry anon, I didn't start answering this ask planning to write a dissertation... I guess I can't help myself, when it comes to Sauron. He's just that interesting !

[sunarots]

BETTER THAN REVENGE! ━━━ tooru oikawa & rintarou suna

16. breakthrough ♡

Rin leans back against his car with a lit cigarette between his lips, an arm draped around your neck to keep you close. You anxiously keep your vape as close to your mouth as possible, taking a hit whenever you feel your anxiety rise. Atsumu paces back and forth in front of the two of you, stumbling into the way of pedestrians repeatedly. He has one airpod in, listening to the instrumentals you'd pieced together.

Rin pulls the cigarette away and blows the smoke over his shoulder before looking back to you. "We got you. Just like always. Okay, babe?"

Sighing, you nod your head and flash him a weak smile. "Yeah. Okay. We got this," you repeat under your breath, leaning further into him. "Thanks."

He shrugs his shoulders and goes to speak, stopping himself when he notices the approaching couple. Atsumu stops in his tracks, resting his hands on his hips before turning to the pair of you. "Well, if it ain't Charles and Camilla. Ya wearing yer revenge dress?"

You can't help but laugh at Atsumu's comment, shielding your smile with your free hand. You turn fully to face Oikawa and Emiko, stuffing your vape in the pocket of your jeans before grasping onto Rin's hand. "Hey!" You pray your fake smile says it all, gesturing to the cafe. "Ready?"

"Yes! Let's go!" Emiko tugs on Oikawa's hand and immediately leads the way inside.

Rin stubs out the cigarette on the roof of his car before flicking it into the bin, grimacing at the thought of what’s about to happen. You follow the others towards a table hidden around the corner, Emiko instantly excusing herself and Atsumu so they could get everyone's drinks. Rather, her blocking his path to the table so he had no choice but to follow her away.

You slip into the seat opposite Oikawa, Rin falling into place by your side once again. You lean back in your seat, clasping your hands together and resting them on the table. "So, how's the show? You like the script?"

Oikawa laughs awkwardly, running a hand through his hair and slumping back in his seat. "Yeah. It's interesting. Different."

"Not too different, though," you quickly point out, moving one of your hands to grab Rin's beneath the table. "For you, anyway. Emiko's a great actress. Really smiley and bubbly, but being able to play such a messed up role is impressive. Though, you are the expert."

Rin covers her mouth with his free hand, clearing his throat and adverting his gaze from Oikawa as he sinks lower into his seat.

"Oh, well... That is the job of an actor." He leans forward in his seat, running a hand down his face. "Um, how's the album coming?"

Rin smiles, straightening up. "Oh, it's great. We have one last song to record, and then it'll be out. Hopefully soon on streaming platforms."

You nod along, enjoying watching Oikawa's face contort with distress. He looks behind you and sighs in relief, practically jumping out of his chair to assist Emiko and Atsumu with the drinks.

"What're we talking about?" Emiko asks eagerly, accepting Oikawa's hand as he helps her sit.

"Our new album. We're recording the last song tonight, and then it'll be out for streaming soon. Next week, I hope," you explain, taking a prolonged sip from your cup. "Me and Rin are working on a duet. We can't quite place a chorus or bridge that pulls it together, but I'm on the verge of a breakthrough."

"Wow. It's amazing you can predict it." Emiko gapes, tucking her hair back behind her ears. "What brings it on?"

You shrug your shoulders, Atsumu speaking for you, "Oh, she can take inspiration from anything. Especially people. She could probably write a song about ya." He grins, lightly swatting your arm as if to ask did you hear that?

"I bet she could," Oikawa retorts, clearly intended to be internal. He clears his throat and straightens up. "So, will we make a start on this script? What questions do you have about the plot?"

You shake your head. "No, I think we have the plot. You and Emiko are having problems- sorry, I don't know your characters' names. Anyway, you have problems in the marriage, she goes to all lengths to keep you together and stop you from doing all these sleazy things. That's the gist of it, right?"

Oikawa nods along slowly, clenching his jaw. “Just about, yeah.”

Atsumu runs his fingers along his jaw and sighs heavily. “Y’know, I feel like that reminds me of something. Like it’s a film I’ve seen before…”

You start to laugh at his comment, amused by his efforts of making this as uncomfortable for the couple as possible. It’s clearly working, with the way Oikawa looks like he may explode. Before Rin has a chance to add on to his jests, you grab onto his wrist with wide eyes.

“Oh my god. Rin, the song.” You turn away from Oikawa with an eager smile, full focus on your partner. “I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.”

Rin nods along as you hum the tune after, repeating your lyrics in his head. He gasps, snaps his fingers at Atsumu and looks between the two of you. “You say, I gave so many signs. I say, You never gave a warning sign.”

You clap your hands together, looking at Atsumu who’s started the voice recording before opening his notes app to write the lyrics you’ve both quoted. He nods his head, drops his phone to the table and beams at you. “We got it!”

“You’ve done jack shit,” Rin scoffs, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“We would forget if he didn’t do this,” you quickly point out, moving his hand back down to your lap and smiling over at the two sat opposite from you at the table. “I’m so sorry about that. If we didn’t do that now, we’d have forgotten it. Sometimes Atsumu comes in handy.”

“The hell do ya mean sometimes. I’m useful!”

You and Rin both fight back your smiles before exchanging a look. “Debatable.”

masterlist. previous | next

summary. as a world-famous singer, everyone knows everything about all of your relationships. namely, your renowned on-again/off-again relationship with one tooru oikawa. it’s hard not to when every song you write is about him. but no one truly knows all of the gory details of all your dirty breakups, except from the two of you. and after announcing in a drunken red-carpet interview that you never want to see his face again, everyone starts desperately searching for the truth behind your twisted relationship. and just when you think you can escape these rumours, in comes a job opportunity your band can’t turn down.

taglist (open!). @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @iaminyourfloors @rrosiitas @v3nusplanetofluv @draculauracullen @lollbecca @honeytwo @wakashudou @tojirin @makki0s @alexithemiyatic @aboutkiyoomi @hermaeusmorax @theepitomeofswag @qyoongi @esunarint @frootloopscos @kimigiri09 @sweetlyvibe @hhoneyhan @jlly1 @nizaii @mdmraz

[blackberrysummerblog]

Wow, it feels like FOREVER since I posted anything. Thanks so much for the tags today @roomwithanopenfire, @meanjeansjeans, @monbons, @orange-peony, @nausikaaa, and @forabeatofadrum. And thank you so much to everyone else who’s been tagging me! I really do appreciate you all <3 It’s nice to see so many people creating! I’ve been feeling supremely UNcreative the past few weeks, but these things come and go, especially when life gets busy.

I do have some things to share! Here’s a snippet from one:

“We can send it to Oxford if you don’t want it in the flat, love,” Baz tells me as I sit on the bed and stare at the floor. He sits beside me and nudges my shoulder with his. “I can hide it away so well that you never have to lay eyes on it again.”

I let my head flop over so that it rests beneath his jaw. “Yeah, maybe.” A little snort escapes me as I grab hold of that thought. “Your dad’ll lose his rag if he finds out it’s there, imagine.”

And another:

Simon is cute, I suppose, in an apple-cheeked hero-who-saves-the-day sort of way. He’s gotten taller this year, although we’re still about the same height. You can see he was made to be broad, and he’s put on a lot of muscle. His skin and hair are nearly the same colour—a literal golden boy. Simon looks like what everyone expects for me. My magic isn’t particularly exceptional, and neither are my grades, but I’m pleasant to look at and refined—I have better manners than to be wearing shoes on the bed and letting my skirt ride up over my knickers, like Philippa is doing right now. I’m the sort of girl people expect to see on Simon’s arm. The sort of girl who will raise his perfect children.

A different one:

“Please,” I whimper. It sounds pathetic, but his smile is like the sun bursting out from behind a cloud. We kiss for what feels like hours; I’ve learned that he likes to treat making out like a mission, one whose mysteries he has to unlock and pry loose to succeed. He likes when I tell him what to do, and when I praise him for getting it right. The day I found out what ‘good boy’ could do for him was a very, very interesting one indeed. And most of all, his name. I’ll never tell him that I deliberately hold back calling him Simon lest it lose its power. “Simon,” I whisper now, with his hands on my waist, his mouth latched on my throat. “Good boy, Simon.”

And finally:

Dev’s makeup is more dramatic than mine, but I have to admit that bright colours suit him. His searing red lipstick is somewhat unfortunately applied however, having been slicked on well after getting in his cups. He still looks brilliant, full of life. A deep, abiding warmth settles into my gut as I watch my little family—it feels good to be together like this again. Dev’s free spirit is catching, and I move behind the kitchen door to pull the silver dress on, much to Fiona and Ebb’s delight.

I hope everyone has a great week, and if you’re planning to celebrate Thanksgiving, have safe travels and good times with friends and family <3

No pressure tags: @rimeswithpurple @valeffelees @best--dress @stardustasincocaine @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @c0nsumemy5oul @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @tender-ministrations @basiltonbutliketheherb @ghostpepperworld @larkral @artsyunderstudy @letraspal @cows4247 @fiend-for-culture @palimpsessed @thewholelemon @hushed-chorus @shrekgogurt @raenestee @cutestkilla @mooncello @imagineacoolusername @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @iamamythologicalcreature @beastmonstertitan @ic3-que3n @supercutedinosaurs @stitchy-queerista @alexalexinii @asocialpessimist @shutup-andletme-go @prettygoododds @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95 @wellbelesbian

[sweetimpurity]

I think I'll keep you:

c.ai bot drop

a/n (please read!): Hiya! I've been working on these bots for a little while, trying to make them stick to the story I've been writing all year. But it is an ai bot so I have no control over what it says or suggests past the greeting. It might not stick to the story exactly. If there's anything you think could be improved or information you think the bots should have about the plot, just message and let me know! I hope you guys have fun kiss kiss!! 😘🍬

These can all be found on my profile: sweetimpurity 💓

I think I'll keep you

Miguel has no interest in a relationship. He just saw you one day and then your tutoring hours posted on the cork board. He knew he had to have you for one night. You were surprised when the text came in from him, him of all people, asking for a session. But he quickly got you on your knees and then in his bed. This one night would turn into much more.

“Oh, god…” You pant and whine, your head leaning to the side to rest on his head.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good…” He curses through a heavy breath against your neck. A high pitched squeal escapes your throat as your back arches against his chest and it hits you hard and fast. Your squeals turn into cries of his name, how good he feels.

He doesn't know what's come over him. He doesn't form attachments like this. But there's something about you that makes him want to bring you pleasure over and over again.

You’re babbling and thrashing in his arms and Miguel smiles, finally getting what he wants. Hearing your sweet innocent voice whining out the dirtiest things. You're a soft warm mess as he chases his own release.

He holds you tightly against him as you both stop moving and start panting to catch your breath. You’re glad he’s still holding you because if he let go, you’d surely face plant into the mattress. Your head rests back on his shoulder and he places small kisses on your skin as he snuggles his face into the crook of your neck, breathing deep and sighing out in relief.

“Will you be mine?” He asks softly and kisses your cheek. “Mine only…” He whispers and his gaze meets yours when you lift your head, turning it so you can look in his eyes. His finger strokes your cheek softly and it’s like he’s looking at the sun. He can try to close his eyes but the memory of you will always be seared into his mind.

“I want to be yours…” You whisper and watch his eyes as they light up a bit, a grin playing on his reddened lips. “Good. I think I’ll keep you…” He smiles and holds your jaw in his hand, kissing your lips once more...

I think I'll keep you 2

You've been gone only three days and he's losing his mind. Everything was so good before you decided to go home for the weekend. Miguel had you every night he wanted, every morning too. Peter's party was supposed to be a distraction but it turned into a disaster. A drunken Dana all over him and he just wants to make her hate him if only to leave him alone. He doesn't want her. He wants you back to campus.

Not hearing from you for three days is making his head spin, and he can’t help but picture you with some guy that’s not him. He throws Dana on the bed, pulling her by the ankles and grabbing her face. Could she handle him if she tried? The answer is no.

“You really like to get on my nerves, don’t you?” He seethes. But even Dana loves the attention.

Ding!

His red hot rage is interrupted by his phone going off. His face softens and his heart skips a beat just like it did when you said you’d be his. He can’t control that feeling. Miguel picks up his phone, seeing your name pop up and his eyes dart around the screen reading it.

{{user}}: “Came back early :)”

“Coming now” He texts right back.

He sighs audibly, a mix of relief and frustration at the same time. “What is it?” Dana whines, sprawled out on his bed, getting her loud perfume all over his sheets where the smell of you should be. “Get out.” He demands, stepping back and going to put on his jacket again to go. “What?! Are you serious?” She scoffs, sitting up on his bed.

"Yes! GET OUT!!" He shouts, making her flinch. She scurries off, out of his dorm fighting back tears. He pulls the jacket on, pushing out of his room and marching his way over to your dorm.

I think I'll keep you 3

Miguel pushes off the wall, going to the library door and seeing you’re finally alone. His heart thumps in his chest. Clenching his swollen bruised hand in his pocket. He sighs and forces himself to walk inside.

You suddenly look up. Stopping him in his tracks. And it’s like he feels like he’s doing something wrong. He told you, you were never supposed to happen for him. That what happened between you for an entire month was a mistake. To not let your messy feelings ruin everything. It’s been four days. Not a call, not a text. Nothing. And now he’s here. You look away first. Back down to your laptop to continue typing. And he continues walking, stopping at the edge of the table across from you.

“I need to talk to you.” He speaks, towering over the table. Thinking back to all those moments it’s like none of that ever mattered because it didn’t matter to him. How can you trust him again when he treated you like he wanted you and then told you, you were never supposed to happen. And you gave him your body, your heart everyday for a month already.

“I’m busy right now.” You say softly, keeping your eyes locked on your laptop screen. While this time away from him has been hell and you’ve been heartbroken over this, he’s also been a total dick.

He’s been trying all week to find you. To talk to you. Trying to find sneaky ways so that he doesn't have to beg for your attention. He wants things back the way they were. He wants you back in his bed. He doesn’t know what he feels.

He walks around the table. You don’t look up, not even sparing him a glance. Glaring at your laptop screen and seeing his movement in your peripherals. He silently walks to the seat right next to you. Slipping down into it to sit beside you. His hands shoved back into his pockets.

"{{user}}… hey...” He says gently, trying to get your attention. Turning in his chair slightly to face you more. He can see your anger, he can feel it too.

“I’m not talking to you.” You say without looking at him.

“Well I’m talking to you…”

I think I'll keep you 4

“...his hand, he’s been having swelling and bruising for a few days now…” You explain kindly to the receptionist once you’re both in the waiting room, standing at the front desk. Miguel standing a bit like a lost puppy behind you, listening to you talk to the receptionist there.

“Alright, the doctor can take a look once she’s done with another patient. If you can just fill out these forms and have a seat, it should be about 30 minutes.” She smiles and hands you a clipboard and a pen.

“Thank you. And could he please get some ice or something?” You smile and ask. The woman nods politely and going to grab an ice pack from the other room. You both start walking over to the waiting room area, looking over the form in your hands. Taking a seat by the fish tank and settling in to wait a little while. Miguel sits right beside you, running the good hand through his dampened hair from the rain. He glances down at the form in your lap. Then up at the side of your face. Wanting to reach out and touch your skin. Kiss your cheek. Remembering what it feels like to melt into your arms. Thinking of all the ways he can beg for, earn your forgiveness. Just as he’s about to speak-

“Here you go…” The receptionist is there, an ice pack outstretched for him to take, breaking him out of his thoughts. He forces a smile, taking the ice pack and setting it over his hand. “Thank you.” He smiles gently. Watching the woman walk away.

He feels like shit. Feels so bad for being so closed off and such a jerk to you about all of this. This past month hasn't been meaningless like he told you in the heat of the moment. It's meant something he just doesn't know how to say it. It's hard for him to put his feelings into words. For you it seems so easy, why can't he just be like you?

He looks back, watching you write down his name on the form. Thinking he can probably do this himself. Before he can interrupt you’re asking him for the information on the form.

I think I'll keep you 5

When the athletic door swings from someone else leaving, he catches a glimpse of you through the opening. The bright lights from outside assault his eyes as the door swings again. Seeing you for just a moment. Just a split second. Talking with Peter against the fence. He stops. What is he walking into? What’s about to change? You’re gonna be there right when he goes through that door. He stands in the dim concrete tunnel, feeling his heart race. He doesn’t like this feeling. This is the loss of control.

“Miguel!” Peter smiles, making you turn to look back. And there he is, walking out the door. You want to just run into his arms and tell him how great he was. Even though he didn't get to play he still coached very well and played his part in the victory. But Peter is talkative and gets in there before you can. And you don't really want to interrupt when he's talking with his friends. Since this is the first time you've been around his friends with him.

“We’re gonna get drinks, you have to come” Peter says, ushering Miguel over to where you’re standing. “This is {{user}}… {{user}} this is Miguel”

“Yeah we know each other.” Miguel says immediately. Not a hint of a smile on his face. He’s annoyed with Peter. Annoyed that it’s not a known thing. He wants it to be known that you two are an item. Or… that there’s something going on… he’s not even sure of at the moment. At least that Peter should know to back off. “Oh cool, so drinks?” Peter asks you.

Miguel’s a little astonished with how easily Peter just brushed that off. Eyes flicking between you two and hoping to god you don’t accept the drink invite. But he bites his tongue. Friends. Really good… friends.

[tricitymonsters]

How would any/all feel about a fat MC, especially one insecure about her body and reluctant to let them touch at first, since she wouldn’t believe they were actually into her? I’m on the heavier side and this game is such a good escape for me. Thank you very much! 😭

I've answered a similar ask before but i TRULY love this one because it gives me the chance to shout it out again: across the board, all the ROs are into fat MCs. Everyone moves to physical intimacy at their own pace and I think they'd be good at being insistent enough to prove that they're being honest while making sure they don't push hard enough to make MC more uncomfortable.

Akello used to be really fit but has since put on some poundage as his metabolism slows down but he's accepted his thickness as a blessing. He's well fed, strong, and comfortable with age changing his body. But also I think of all the ROs he's probably the most specifically into fat bodies- fat babes of all genders and presentations feel great in his hands, and he loves the look of a fat ass + thick thighs + belly. PLUS also Akello really likes to eat and he wants to share meals with an MC who's open to relishing the pleasures of life with a little bit of hedonism.

Amir loves Big Girls and Thems and Boys don't let his slender looks deceive you. He also has a very mild feeder kink and would insist that you look adorable when he can get you samples of luxe snacks you've never had before. He knows that a lot of people have baggage about eating and bodies but he's one of the first to INSIST all bodies are beautiful and that conventional notions of beauty are not only impossibly narrow, but also carry gross baggage deeply rooted in racist, classist, and sexist nonsense. Besides if a man who looks like Amir does can't pass the Conventionally Beautiful Margin just because he likes makeup and dresses and huge heels how good of a judge could it POSSIBLY be, obviously he is earth-shatteringly beautiful and they're just insecure haters.

Mori wants to put his grabby little goblin hands all over a fat MC please. He loves big boobs (gnc), big butts, big thighs to get crushed in. He has a little belly pooch himself because he's an irresponsible drinker and eats garbage so he's also one of the LEAST likely RO's to make judgments. He's here for a good time, not a long time, and he wants to enjoy getting physical with MC and explore whatever body they have.

Bonus Mentions:

Kazu may be an insufferable gym rat who meal preps but he also eats like a garbage disposal and food is a huge stress/comfort thing for him. As long as you feel strong and healthy in your body, that's all he cares about. Also he's an ass guy so please don't think a big ass won't get him all worked up.

Raath ESPECIALLY loves chubby/fat bodies. So much for him to grab and bite.

Marcel is kinda like Kazu in that he can be a little bit obsessed with his workout routine but Marcel's more interested in that for himself, not pushing it onto others, especially if they haven't explicitly shown interest in getting a routine of their own. Most likely to brag insufferably about his thicc mc partner as loud as he can, though.

[sseomtada]

covet [charles leclerc/carlos sainz]

a hidden desire is unearthed, leading to an interesting night with your boyfriend and his teammate.

this is a wip so let me know if i should continue? 18+++

“Put her on the bed, head facing me.”

Carlos’ request alone has you breathless before you’re hovering above ground in your boyfriend’s arms. Not a stranger to fulfilling requests, Charles does as his teammate instructs without complaint or delay.

Your head rests at the foot of the bed and your eyes meet the Spaniard hovering above you, his legs spread wide on a chair. His usually upright now upside down crucifix shines as it falls from beneath his shirt when he leans over, closer.

God, you think, and immediately feel guilty for doing so.

This is the last thing you expect to come out of a previous, unpredictable encounter. One where Charles is handsy and you can’t stop purring - so inconsiderate of the company right beside you on the sofa. Please, his accent laden laugh ripples, don’t mind me. Those words unknowingly at the time becoming the catalyst for the present.

Though, that can’t entirely be true. You and Charles know that kissing each other with so much tongue in front of him leads to this. Both of you are aware that you spreading your legs and letting yourself to be of good use before his hungry gaze only ends one way. You no longer just belong to one of them to behold.

“Remember, there are no objections. ” Carlos ghosts a thumb along your bottom lip. “You’re both to do whatever I say.”

He doesn’t tell you to, but you nod. You hear Charles agree as well, the bed sinking under his weight. Carlos adds that, of course, safe words are welcome and encourages their use should there be any discomfort. He asks that you two remind him of yours, which you do.

“Good. Very good…” The chair creaks as he leans back. “Why don’t you go ahead and get started, Charles? I wanna see that face she makes when you eat her out.”

As if it’s second nature, your boyfriend descends upon you. He takes a bit of liberty with the demand. Just because his strings are in the hands of someone else doesn’t mean he can’t, or won’t, tend to you fully.

He slots between your legs, one hand cupping the back of your right thigh and the other cradling your face. Your lips part just as his come down to taste them. A ripple of heat blooms from every pore, his tongue muffling your moans. Your finger graze his scalp just like your teeth do to his bottom lip and he ruts into you.

Before it slips his mind to do his teammate’s bidding, Charles begins to work his way down your body. He pushes your tank top over your breasts while kissing your neck and then moves to suck on your nipples. You writhe, knees squeezing his hips when he rolls them ever so slightly between his teeth.

Charles travels lower. His lips drag along your skin, patches of warmth from his open mouth trailing in the wake, until they settle at the top of your shorts. He kisses your covered mound and you gasp.

“Please.” Your lower half peels from the bed, pushing into his face.

“Awfully rude of you to make her beg.” Carlos tuts.

His presence, something of a distant memory under the touches of your lover, becomes vivid once again. Your eyes roll up to catch him already staring back, watching with intent. Charles removes your pants and spreads you wide for a taste. Your vision blurs as you gape.

“Look at me.” The tone in use forces you to regain focus.

As things progress, his demand is increasingly difficult to fulfill. One man runs his tongue through and around your soaking cunt and the other takes his cock out to stroke it in full view. It’s so thick, so full of pre-cum. You lick your lips.

“I think she wants something to suck.” Carlos chuckles. “Is that right, beautiful?”

Charles pulls your swollen clit between his lips and circles it wildly. You cry out, legs clenching around his head while your body inches up involuntarily. Your head dangles from the edge of the mattress, neck in full extension.

“Yes.” You swallow.

Carlos groans at the sight of you and tugs on his cock harder. His eyes, seemingly black, stretch from the head moving between your thighs to your heaving breasts and then to your lips that can’t seem to shut.

“Be a good boy and finish her off, Charles.” His lips curl wickedly.

Your thighs are in the puppet’s hold as his moan shoots up your spine until it becomes one of your own. He slurps obscenely at your hole, clearing your juices to tease it with the tip of his tongue.

“Fuck, right there-” You rolls your hips.

“Mhm?” He hums, pushing it further.

Your gaze meets Carlos’. “Yes! Don’t stop…”

The puppeteer nods and you’re instantly tumbling down. Your mouth widens, lips trembling, as you release it all onto Charles. He doesn’t let up. Your clit finds itself an object he can’t seem to stop flicking and sucking. Your moans slip into whines and coos, leaving your throat as raw as you feel below - all while the force behind your undoing admires the result of his direction.

“You’re doing so well.” He stops touching himself to cup your cheek.

You turn your face to nuzzle your nose against his palm, forcing yourself to take deep breaths. He smells as glorious as he looks, spice and natural musk. You lick along a line in his hand and it make his eyes burn.

“Spit.” Carlos mutters.

It’s like you’re put on autopilot the way you comply without thinking twice. You gather all the saliva you can to the front of your mouth and shoot it onto his waiting palm. He strokes your hair with his free hand before resuming self pleasure.

“Go fill your mouth up, angel.” His head nudges towards your boyfriend.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

I have always seen you

Salo x Lest

warning : kiss, hurt/comfort, drinking alcohol

Summary : He had been through all of Piltover's parties, knew every guest and had extensive connections. But he had seen such beautiful golden eyes and shiny fur before, but now that he was at a low point, he was ready to actually approach the pretty one instead of keeping quiet. Because a broken man had nothing left to lose and she wanted to make him better.

info : Thanks for the request @1v31182m5 the ship needs more works and art, it took me a while but i finally finished it, have fun reading ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he had entered the room just a few weeks ago, he had been greeted warmly, almost idolized. Green eyes wallowing in appreciation, blond hair that matched the red and white suit, fabric of the highest quality, gold on his body more valuable than anything else. The wine in his goblet imported and appreciated by his guests and hosts alike, he was at the top of his game.

But the highly esteemed Council member Salo was alone wherever he went, a woman, no husband and no family by his side. He was alone and when the doors of his mansion closed he couldn't stop himself from shuddering when he met the silence, a silence that was interrupted by his dreams.

Golden eyes seemed to haunt him, a soft fur he could almost feel and a voice calling him...but then all this old life, luxurious as it was, was all a lie, a lie that was torn apart with an explosion and Salo saw the bitter painful truth for the first time.

Of the moment the broken building ceiling landed on his legs, his scream barely heard in the chaos, and he felt a fear that let him know his legs were useless, a fear that made him sick, a fear that let him know he was an outsider in a city of lies, falsehood and snootiness.

He was the living lie to the residents, no one cared about the sick, the broken from the moment he sat in the wheelchair to the moment he walked into a room he saw nothing but ignoring and rejection. Salo had lost his face.

Another sigh and clink of the goblet was heard as he ran his hand over his face, his thoughts trying to drown in wine as he saw the soft brush but felt nothing, no coldness or warmth.

Useless.

His green eyes even if tired and exhausted looked back at her, his interest on her, ,,They hate me you know, a sight at every party at every damn invitation I was the guest of honor...and now-now I'm nothing more than a shadow to be avoided” he said bitterly, clenching the goblet on the side table and wishing the glass had broken, just broken and taken him away.

His help only responded with a nod, she mostly just listened anyway, a few words though he enjoyed her voice, his hand moving to her cheek she pulled back almost startled.

Golden eyes different from his, fluffy ears twitching around and a short, ,,Don't...Salo” as she tried to brush again but her payer didn't hear, his fingertip passing over her ear and a smirk on his lips, ,,You're soft” he said with fascination.

A response she did not expect, she was ignored, not spoken to, she was paid for her art not for what she was, a reality she had long accepted but Salo remembered.

He knew her, had seen her, at all the parties he'd been to that were a little more “special” in the back rooms behind velvet curtains, the purple paint shimmering on the bodies of her clients, ,,I...know you Lest...you were involved in the lying parties like me,” he said, sitting up to look at her better.

Words that made her pause, the brush no longer wandering over his legs and golden eyes avoiding his, nothing sated and instead he reached for the bottle to fill his glass further.

But he got no answer, instead she gripped her paintbrush tighter and quickly, saying nothing, she circled the couch, ,,You can't leave!” he suddenly shouted, fear rising in him as he realized she was leaving him.

Dropping the cup, he tried unsuccessfully to reach for her hand and almost fell off the couch, ,,I'll be back tomorrow,” she assured him coolly, not looking at him or taking his hand, his door opened and closed...and Salo, Salo was left broken once again.

Crying, screaming, cursing, the wine bottle crashed to the floor and he saw his reflection in the dark drink.

A likeness that startled him - tousled hair, a light beard, tired eyes - he wasn't even the rich businessman Salo anymore, he was just a broken cripple.

A fact that made him even more desperate and he reached for another bottle, but the sight of Les and her softness didn't seem to leave him even in this state.

~~~~~~~~~~

Lest, on the other hand, did not dislike him, at first she had even taken a liking to his luxury at the parties when she talked to him, painting him more often than not. But he always drank too much for her to remember him properly until today.

Integrity was something she kept, no one stayed with her for long and it was better that way, so why did she cheat herself and come back to Salo?

They both knew that the shimmer didn't work, it could heal wounds that were life threatening yes but not body parts that were already lost and yet she came back every day, ,,You have no idea how close you are to me...Salo” she mumbled as she put the brush in her bag and set off after him again.

Salos surprise was surprising and yet not unpleasant, his demeanor understandable and his fear justified...perhaps it was that on the brink of war, kindred spirits find each other.

He saw her for what she was, considered her right and did not misappropriate her work and she, she appreciated him as a person and not as an outsider.

Maybe that was what made her open the door and her heart beat faster to take him in, ,,Leeest” she heard his voice, slurring and shuffling as he seemed to still be lying on the couch.

Almost stunned, she looked at him, he looked like a broken peacock with barely any pretty feathers left, ,,You've been drinking, raging and all with justification...but don't make yourself more unworthy than you are Salo” she replied and locked the door.

No one should see him like this, no one would understand as she set the bag down and reached for a cloth and garbage can, deftly picking up the shards of bottle and goblet and holding the cloth under water in the bathroom before wiping the dried wine from the table.

She returned the room to its former glory before turning to Salo, who had been mumbling something apologetic the whole time, ,,It's none of your business,” he said, his voice clear as glass for a moment as she sat down with him and held out a vial of shimmer for the pain of his drinking.

Lest suppressed a sigh when she saw that he was still lying here, not having slept properly, ,,It doesn't...but two party guests of a special kind get along better than the gold-drenched inhabitants of this city,” she said and he opened the vial and drank the contents.

Saw that it tasted sweet and bitter as he grimaced and sat up to avoid looking like a hunchback, she ran a damp cloth over his face, held him a mirror as he combed his hair and carefully trimmed his beard all while glances of green and gold met again and again.

,,I will pay you for this, even if you didn't have to, I thank you for still seeing me as Salo and not as the broken one,” he said with a bitter grin as he looked down at his legs and was about to hide his face in his hands when she grabbed his hand.

A touch she agreed with, a touch he felt, he saw her warmth and kindness, ,,Healing can sometimes come from deeper feelings, not from drugs or money. Sometimes it's enough to have someone, someone in the world who understands you better than anyone else,” she said, not letting go of him and drawing closer to her.

She placed his hand on her cheek, soft fur was brushed by cool fingers, green met gold and she gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

A kiss from someone who cherished him, loved him and saw him for who he was, there was no wrong time between them.

A kiss that became a real short intimate one and two people were united in a look of green gold.

Salo was seen and Lest was not overlooked, they were two who could heal each other in a world that could no longer offer them anything, they had each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[andorology]

Sanguinity: Chapter 5 a rebelcaptain regency au

An unexpected arrival of an equally unexpected letter. With no intention to prolong the curiosity it had stirred in her, Jyn hurried to pluck the wax seal and unfold the paper.

Whatever she felt just moments ago, it seemed to now have doubled, if not tripled.

______

Jyn receives a letter from out of the blue, and her relationship with the Andors is about to take a turn. Will it be for better or for worse?

Read Chapter 5 of Sanguinity below the cut, or check it out on ao3! Rating T.

When the day of Jyn’s first expedition around the estates with Kerri came, the heavens, to her delight, endowed its favor for their endeavor; the sun filtered through the cloudy canopy like tendrils of warmth, animating everything it touched with vigored life. From her window Jyn witnessed the daisies’ and cowslips’ slow bloom, the cool air moving through their quietude in whispers of the gentlest kind. The birds sang, and along with it Jyn’s spirits; she was ready for the day.

She was to expect Kerri’s arrival to Vallt Park by mid-morning. During the wait she spent some time writing about her new interest—a short history of Spanish hardwood species, for which she had made considerable progress, and in such a state of concentration that she hadn’t noticed how much it had eaten away at the hours before the anticipated activity. 

She found, however, even as the clock had already struck the awaited hour, that her companion still had not arrived. She decided to give her some more time, and wait by milling about the gardens. 

She let the petals of various flowers brush past her hand as she passed by them, their pleasant smells tickling her nose in a harmony of scents. When she reached a corner in the path, she knelt by a trimmed rose bush to examine one of its flowers being crushed under the weight of heavy, entangled brambles. 

As she began to gently pull on its stem, a movement towards the house caught her eye. 

There, through the foliage, she saw one of her household’s footmen walk towards the staff’s door, the day’s letters stuffed in a satchel that hung around his body. He was unassuming in stature; Jyn paid him no mind—she did not currently expect correspondence from anybody. When she returned to her attempt to break the rose free, she had even already forgotten about him. 

At that point the sun now radiated warmer, and Jyn’s doubt for Kerri’s arrival, which still did not happen, had now also grown more certain. She looked at the horizon and hoped to see her friend’s figure emerge somewhere along it. It didn’t.

Just then, the very same footman from a while ago appeared out of the door yet again. Jyn watched him head towards her direction, a tray in his hand, a lone piece of paper on its surface. 

“Miss Erso,” he called out as he descended the stone steps towards where she was on the pebbled path. “A letter.”

“For me?” asked Jyn. With hesitation she received the folded and sealed parchment from its vessel. Flipped over, it bore a delicate penmanship that spelled out her name and nothing more. Confused, she looked at the footman. “Where is it from?”

“Lah’mu Hall, Miss.”

Jyn frowned. “The Andors?” 

“Yes, Miss.”

Sweat began forming on Jyn’s palms, for a reason she did not really know. “I see,” she said. “Thank you.” 

An unexpected arrival of an equally unexpected letter. With no intention to prolong the curiosity it had stirred in her, Jyn hurried to pluck the wax seal and unfold the paper. 

Whatever she felt just moments ago, it seemed to now have doubled, if not tripled.

It was a letter from Kerri herself, and it read:

Dear Ms. Jyn Erso,

I am sorry to write to you that I cannot come today and join you in your walk. I know that we have entered, with utmost excitement, into this undertaking of ours—you keeping a record of every plant species you could possibly find, and I sketching them for your journals—which must make this news disappointing for you to read, as much as it has been for me to write it. 

But, as things would have it, I feel even more regret to impart something that I am now to do, and which, I am afraid, you may not forgive me for. 

From this point on, I am withdrawing myself entirely, not only from our activities, but from your company now as well. I am truly sorry to say this, Ms. Erso, but we can no longer be friends.

I know—some questions must go through your head at this moment; I understand the suddenness, and even the shock, with which this information has reached you, and for this, I at least owe you an explanation:

Ever since our calling upon you and your family a couple of days ago, my brother Cassian has been in a state of quiet unrest. He had already been somewhat sullen prior, ever since our attendance at Mr. Rook’s ball, but it seems to be our visit at Vallt Park which has finally aggravated it to the degree which I now speak of.

The most notable attribute of this unrest was his near-constant questioning of how I have been treated by you; in times more than I would normally expect him to, he asked about your character, Ms. Erso, and if you are a worthy friend. It struck me as odd. When I finally assured him of your goodwill towards me, however, he told me that he was not convinced, and nor should I be. 

I had nothing but endless questions. Here he finally expressed to me the nature of his feelings, which in turn, informed his strange disposition for the past fortnight. And I found out, to my extreme surprise, that you, Ms. Erso, have been their source and object! 

I asked him to clarify; obligingly and unhesitatingly, he listed out, to the most emphatic degree, the reasons why you seem to bother him. I have debated whether I should even mention what these specific reasons are to you, but I find that I must if I am to fully explain myself, so now I will: 

Cassian thinks you arrogant, spoiled, and, in his own words, “possess a spirit of the most feeble and vacillating nature.” I have expressed my indignation when he first conveyed these to me, and still to this moment I think these accusations to be baseless and untrue—you have witnessed how much I have enjoyed our friendship so far, have you not, Ms. Erso? So imagine how much it came to me as a surprise to hear them come out from my brother’s mouth, which I had hoped, from the first, would only speak well of you!

I have stated my reasons against this belief of his; but he is forthright and insistent in promoting them to me, upon the accounts of the encounters we both have had with you. He has argued against my disinclinations with the strongest conviction; he is so sure of it, Ms. Erso, and has appealed for my acquiescence to his reason. 

This has become a point of disagreement for the both of us within the last few days. Though I cannot fully grasp the sense with which he has put forth his argument, I have begun, nonetheless, to feel compelled to see it. For it struck me with such shock to see him so earnestly desperate, and so desperately earnest in his manner. He has shown a kind of acute temperament which, if I may say so, he has so rarely shown to me; I have only witnessed it so few times in my life. 

Whenever it occurred, I would know in an instant that he was absolutely serious about it. And so I have grown to believe that his reasons for whatever he feels now—they are motivated by true concern and no hidden malice. 

Here I must now appeal to you , Ms. Erso. I hope you do not see this decision of mine as a result of me just blindly agreeing to my brother, nor do I hope, upon my taking his side, that you view this as my neglect of the kindness I have so far received from you. I acknowledge all of it, and am grateful you have chosen to make a friend out of me—truly. 

But I implore you to know that I make this choice because my brother and I have been through thick and thin our entire lives—just him and me. He trusts me as much as I trust him, and where I know he would, on the first chance, seek my advice and heed it, I know that I can also do the same to his. 

I only truly regret what it is at the expense of. 

Please accept my deepest apologies, and I wish you well. 

Yours kindly, Kerri Andor

The feelings that entered Jyn’s heart as she read through the contents of this letter budded to a strong anger, and she felt her grip slowly tighten on the paper—a thing she did not realize she was doing until the edges had finally crumpled into her fist. 

It was true, the pain of this letter’s injury seemed to come from Kerri’s choice to forsake her, but she realized, as she later reflected on it in the privacy of her bedchamber, that she ultimately did not find too much fault in her. Kerri had been nothing but kind, first for extending the courtesy of letting her know of the termination of their acquaintance, and, more notably, for even making excuses on behalf of her brother’s antagonistic behaviors.

So no, the anger Jyn felt now was not in any way directed towards Kerri, but towards the influence under which she felt compelled to make the decision. The nerve of her brother—the absolute nerve! Jyn had no other way of putting it; she truly disliked Cassian Andor now. First for reproaching her character, which on its own, was already a grievous offense, and now for reproaching it again more injuriously in front of her friend, his sister! 

He was absolutely and irredeemably contemptible.

These thoughts and feelings cycled themselves anew at every possible moment, and yet Jyn’s turmoil, she realized, was not so fully fixed on her adversary; Jyn felt its intensity to be even greater whenever she thought of the most unfortunate consequence of their hostilities: the loss of a potential friend. 

In lieu of this adverse turn of events, her current spirits for her studies were now effectively extinguished. All around her too, the scene had turned sour; the breeze felt too cold, the sun too hot, the birdsong too loud. None of it tempted her to inquiry and exploration; instead, she spent the rest of the day in her bedchamber, lying limp on her bed. 

But even doing nothing would soon not help her restlessness, either. So by the time the afternoon approached twilight, Jyn put on her riding gown, strapped on her muddied boots, and hurried to the stables to ride out on her horse. 

For a while the movement did her spirits good. She momentarily let her mare run off to its own will, allowing the freedom to thrill her to a state of elation. 

She did not notice, however, that during all this, her horse had led her to the crest of the low hill that separated Vallt Park and Lah’mu’s lands. She only realized it until her childhood home came into distant view, at which she yanked the reins in a sudden panic, forcefully putting her horse to a halt.

Once still, she sighed in relief. As she gathered her breath in a quick repose, she found herself looking at the house again, standing tall yet lonely across the empty grassy field. A timid melancholy gripped her soul as she beheld its sight.

A movement from its side caught her attention, and she found, after squinting, that it was undoubtedly the figure of Cassian Andor himself, walking along the side path towards the courtyard out front. 

Jyn again felt her anger rise; and yet, she found herself staring.

That was when Cassian seemed to have noticed Jyn herself, for he stopped in his tracks and faced himself towards her direction. 

It was a strange moment—for a while it would seem that they were both just staring at each other. 

But a wind blew past Jyn, effectively stirring her out of it. In an instant, she urged her horse back into motion again.

From where he stood in front of Lah’mu Hall, Cassian looked at her still. He did not stop, even after she had already descended to the cover of the hills.

A couple of days passed since, during which Jyn had begun to do her best to continue the life she had lived before the Andors came into it. It was not much different, she realized, for she still did the same things—read, write, and explore.

Writing, however, was something she had begun doing more—she continued to work on her piece on her history of hardwoods.

Today Mr. and Mrs. Erso had to leave to make some arrangements to one of their farms, up in the north of the country. This left Vallt Park entirely to Jyn’s whim, though she did not do anything much to do this advantage; she was too engrossed in her writing to do anything else. 

By the waiting room window where she usually sat, she had been scribbling in solitude, her back and neck hunched over a stack of papers, when suddenly a footman (coincidentally, the same one who had delivered her the letter a few days ago) entered to inform her of the quick, unplanned arrival of a visitor. 

Soon the visitor in question appeared through the doorway, the sight of whom made Jyn’s skin crawl. 

“Mr. Cassian Andor, Miss,” announced the footman, before leaving them alone.

Cassian scanned the place, his eyes widening at the sight of only Jyn being there.

Jyn gave her unwelcome visitor a glare. She put her papers aside and stood up. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Cassian kept a straight face. “I was expecting to see your father, but I shall come back when he is here. Good day, Miss Erso.”

He was already turning on his heel when Jyn said, “I see your family’s quest for avoiding me is still very well in place.”

Cassian stared at her silently for a few seconds too long. “I do not know what you are talking about.” 

 Jyn scoffed. “Spare yourself this charade—I already know what you did. Your sister told me—she sent me a letter. Or did you not know?” 

Cassian did not respond.

A dry chuckle escaped Jyn’s mouth. “Miss Andor. I truly feel bad for her. It is clear to me that she really values your opinion, and here you’ve gone and disused it against me.” 

Cassian looked at her questioningly, his gaze sharp as a dagger. “Is that how you really see it, Miss Erso?”

The provocation compelled Jyn to step around the table and towards the middle of the room. Her voice raised, she answered, “Yes, Mr. Andor. You have deprived me of friendship—deprived her of friendship. And for what?” 

“It is not so much deprivation,” replied Cassian, “as it is an escape from her doomed affections for you.”

A quiet gasp left Jyn’s mouth. “You astound me. You know, I would have been able to live with your animosity, but what you’ve done—involving your sister into it—it signifies your cowardice. And for that I do not think I can forgive you.”

Cassian’s face formed into a sharp grimace.

“If you truly hate me,” said Jyn, her eyes piercing his, “do it yourself.”

Taking long, swift strides, Cassian met her in the middle of the room. “I merely told her what she ought to know,” he said in a quiet but intense manner, “and done as she ought with that knowledge she did.” 

“That I am arrogant, spoiled, and spineless? What fantasies you must have concocted in your own head to truly believe those things about me, Mr. Andor. And you’ve discerned that from what, our quick introduction and our subsequent meeting? From that you have gravely misjudged my character, and it baffles me so that you are so assured of its truth, when you do not even know me!” 

Cassian scoffed. “I know you well enough, all right. The things you said to my sister during our visit in this very same room were enough, notwithstanding the rest. Yes,” he added when he noticed the stunned look on Jyn’s face, “I heard all of it, and not with any effort of trying, for you were not being as discreet as you thought you were.” 

Jyn put her chin up in defiance. “That is a useless charge, for I did not say anything wrong.” 

“Really?” challenged Cassian. “What about the fact that you wish to marry Mr. Krennic merely for the advantage of his wealth?” He laughed dryly. “I suppose I should not be surprised that you are indifferent to the folly of it, for you are just like every other person of your station.”

“My station?” It took Jyn a few seconds to truly register the accusation being made against her. She blinked rapidly. “Am I right in hearing that you are reproaching me for entering a marriage for what it commonly is among women like me, an economic proposition? Why should I be exempt from this? This is preposterous—you’re a solicitor, you should know better!”

“Oh I couldn't care less that you would marry for that reason, Miss Erso!” Cassian matched her volume. “But you have done so in abandon of a long-held principle.”

Jyn frowned. “What—”

“For someone who wishes to staunchly excuse herself from the institution for her education and freedom, you certainly resigned yourself to Mr. Krennic willingly the moment it promised monetary benefit for you.”

Jyn tried to speak again—

“Your inconstancy to your principles suggests to me that you have never truly adhered to them in the first place. I can never witness my sister, or anybody I care for really, to maintain friendships with the sort of people.”

Jyn’s mouth hung open, feeling the censure hit her harder than she would have liked it to. She heard it echo all the way through the back of her head, traveling down to the hollows of her gut, making her squeamish. She felt her pulse quicken. 

She clenched her body to discipline, fighting the urge to show any sign of her current emotion. 

“You do not know me,” she said. “You do not know why I do not want to get married, or why I do . Frankly, it is none of your business. What do you know of my situation to quickly deduce the issue as a matter of my inconstancy, of my poor character? Here is my question to you, Mr. Andor: do you think we all have the privilege to do as we wish to?” 

Cassian shook his head disapprovingly. “Do not speak to me of privilege, Miss Erso.” 

“Oh I will,” said Jyn, “for it is the very thing that gives you leave to speak over me as you now do. Did it never occur to you that I have no other choice but to marry for wealth?”

Cassian’s expression did not change.

“Is this what it is?” Jyn proceeded. “You scorn me for choosing to not die a destitute? Must I suffer through life to prove myself worthy of your regard? This is incredibly high levels of self-importance, Mr. Andor. I do not need your esteem.”

Cassian’s face contorted in disgust. “Nor I am not trying to give it. And do not attempt to garner my pity because you feel like you do not have a choice but to marry a powerful Krennic, Miss Erso, a baron to be with 12,000 pounds a year.”

“And I am not trying to! It would take the last person on earth to perish before I would even begin to seek yours .” Jyn shook her head. “And what is your issue with Mr. Krennic? Why does it matter to you that it is him whom I choose to marry?”

She searched Cassian’s face; his expression did not falter under her scrutiny. It only seemed to glower more intensely upon her asking the question—a question which he did not respond to.

“You can’t answer me, can you?” said Jyn. “For you have no good reason—for any of it.” 

Cassian took a step closer towards her. “Why, Miss Erso?” he challenged. “Will it even matter to you if I did?”

A shaky breath suddenly escaped Jyn’s mouth. She blinked.

Then she shook her head and attempted to walk away in her frustration, but soon found herself facing him back. “I had supposed you could stand to reason, Mr. Andor. Of all things, I at least hoped your hostility would grant me that grace. But it is clear to me now that you are averse to it, not because you do not have the ability, but because you do , and yet you refuse to. That is all the worse to me! And you say I’m just like every other person of my class? Have you looked at yourself? You’re practically the same—you are just like every other genteel person that has ever been, especially the ones you detest.”

Cassian stepped even closer. “Am I, Miss Erso?”

“You are,” Jyn replied. “You may not have not been born into your status and wealth, but that does not make much of a difference now to me.” She cocked her head in mock inquisitiveness. “Is that not why you bought a part of my father’s estate, and are now even considering retiring from your occupation—to become a part of all of this?”

Cassian’s expression took on a look of indignance. 

“For all I know, Mr. Andor,” Jyn said, finding satisfaction in it, “you already are. You are now a part of the same brood which you criticize me for. You are just like everyone else—just like me. Gentlemen and ladies who play and scheme and make alliances to build their own wealth.”

Cassian’s expression hardened, his sharp gaze boring into Jyn’s eyes. She steeled herself. 

“Clearly, Miss Erso,” he said quietly, “the books you read haven’t done you justice. Such a shame—all that reading, and yet no amount of knowledge has yet to cure your narrow view of the world. You attempt to insult me, that much is clear, but you do not even know what you are saying.”

Jyn relented with a lethargic shrug. “I suppose that makes both of us, when you first insulted me.” 

The lines of Cassian’s scowl deepened. Jyn’s heart raced. They both watched each other silently, unable to get a read of what went in each other’s minds. 

After a few moments, she finally said, “Is there anything else you would like to tell me about my character, Mr. Andor, in my own home?” 

She stepped closer to look up at Cassian’s face. His expression slightly faltered at this move, but in only such a brief moment in time. After a few seconds of their stewing in this heated silence, the solicitor finally stepped back.

“Good day, madam.”

Jyn did not reply to this and only averted her gaze. Cassian began to walk away. 

When he disappeared out of the door, Jyn finally let out the guttural and shaky sigh that had been building up in her chest since he’d arrived. 

As she shut her eyes in the middle of the room, she felt her heart sink to depths she hadn’t known existed before. Her soul wore heavy upon her body, and yet the fiery tongues of her anger burned it so hot she felt it surface to her face.

Gathering her wits, she finally walked back to the window where she had left her papers. Soon enough, through the glass pane, she saw Cassian emerge from the house below, his steps quick and light as he hurried back to his carriage. 

Jyn did not watch him leave this time; before the carriage door even closed on him, she had already twisted on her heel and walked to her bedchamber.