#limbo jewelry

[deansraspberrypie]

Danneel modeling the Link Collection 💖💎👑

🍰 Tag list: @undisputedchick2 @jranutter @kazsrm67 🥧

[dogwwater]

I have so many hobbies and not enough time to monetize them

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-Hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In the shadowed halls of Wayne Manor, a girl lost among the darkness seeks the connection she never had. Her mother, a kleptomaniac with a broken heart, vanished, leaving only echoes of empty promises. Surrounded by a family that never sees her, her pain turns into a deafening silence. The void left by her past traps her in a limbo of solitude and sorrow.

One dark night, seeking her own way, she became what she once despised. Now, like the albino bat rejected by its own flock, she flies alone in the twilight. Her pale skin glows in the dark, but her heart still yearns for the warmth of a home she never came to know.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Suicide, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation

Chapter Guide! Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is—so there might be some grammar or spelling mistakes here and there. This is the first part of a story I’m writing for a friend (Isabel, I love you, you brat), and also an experiment to see what it’s like to write on Tumblr. Please support me! :"((

Nobody is coming to save you

Get up.

Your mother was not a good woman, and that was an undeniable fact, heavy as the shadow that covers Gotham City at nightfall. She was a creature of the underworld, one among the specters that wandered under the yoke of crime, walking among dangerous names like Selina Kyle or Harleen Quinzel, yet always remaining in the background, never reaching their fame or infamy.

She was nothing more than a kleptomaniac and a mythomaniac, doomed to live by cunning and deceit. She took advantage of the men who crossed her path, from the lowest criminals, like The Penguin, to the most powerful man in the city: Bruce Wayne.

You never called him Dad. To you, he was always Bruce, and on the rare occasions you addressed him, you did so with distant formality, "Mr. Wayne." Richard, your adoptive brother, found in him a father figure, while to you, he was just another shadow in the mansion, that huge, cold house you arrived at after your mother’s death.

You remember how, time and again, you tried to warn your mother to stop stealing, to stop lying, that those dark paths would inevitably lead her to Arkham Asylum, surrounded by all the lunatics you feared so much, or even worse: to death. But she always responded with a playful smile, stroking your head with her delicate hands, adorned with stolen jewelry and crude tattoos. "Those are just fantasies of an eight-year-old girl," she would say sweetly, while her ring-laden fingers assured you that you needn’t worry, "I will always come back for you," she promised, "because you are the only thing more valuable than any diamond I’ve ever held."

But the cruel truth was that was the last time you saw her. That night she left, and she never returned. It was then that the last vestiges of innocence faded with her absence. From that moment on, you ceased to be a child.

And that was one of the few things you understood with absolute clarity. There were no more empty promises, no more caresses tinged with lies. All that remained was the silence of a life fading away, like a stolen jewel that never returns to its rightful owner.

The only thing you knew after calling the police when your mother didn’t show up after two days was that they found her corpse in a back alley far from Gotham, showing signs of having been beaten and bruised by some underground gang.

Commissioner Gordon searched the entire house for illicit substances and signs of debts to mobsters, but he only ended up finding documents, stolen jewelry, and letters from your mother that were never sent, and most importantly, DNA evidence implicating that the city’s millionaire was your biological father.

From then on, your life was stained with eternal gray, that muted shade that erased all traces of light or shadow. There was no more white or black, only a silent fog that, day by day, enveloped you and dragged you into a madness that seemed inevitable. Gotham itself seemed more alive than the place you called home, although "home" was never the right word.

You didn’t love any of the Wayne family members. Bruce, your biological father, never listened to you. To him, you were always just another shadow, a ghost in the vast mansion that he prioritized over his other children, his "true" heirs. There was always something more important, something more urgent, and your presence faded among the cold walls and the echo of his hurried footsteps. With each passing day, you became more invisible to him, as if your very existence were a mistake he preferred to ignore.

Richard, the perfect brother, was kind on some occasions. He spoke to you courteously, but when you needed him, when you asked him to attend one of your performances, there was always an excuse, something that kept him away, as if your passion and accomplishments were insignificant details in his heroic life.

Jason, on the other hand, despised you from the start. He saw you as an intruder, a child of gold—but not of that pure and valuable gold, but of a dirty and false one, which he always mocked with disdain. And although you never cared for him, when he died, silent tears rolled down your face. It wasn’t out of love, but out of respect for what he represented, for the brutal reality of his fall.

Tim, in contrast, was the most indifferent. To him, you were a nobody, so irrelevant that you weren’t even worth a glance. Spending time with his friends or being the Robin of the moment mattered more than you did. You lived on his periphery, in a limbo where neither your name nor your face seemed to exist.

Cassandra, Stephanie, Barbara… at least they treated you with politeness, but you knew they didn’t really remember who you were. They saw you, smiled at you out of obligation, but deep down you knew they had no idea of your name, your story, your struggle to be more than a shadow in that world.

The worst of all was Damian, your younger half-brother. When he arrived at the mansion, Alfred introduced him to you with that serene formality he always had, and you, driven by an almost desperate impulse, tried to reach out to him. You wanted to offer him the support and affection of an older sister, that warmth you would have longed for in his situation. But all you received in return was a cold response: a katana piercing your abdomen. I wish I could say it was just a metaphor, but no, that wound was as real as the blade that cut your skin.

You would have liked to think that the pain was symbolic, that Damian had only rejected your affection with harsh words or his usual arrogance. But no, it was much more than that. The only thing you received in exchange for your attempt at fraternal love was a stab, a scar you still carry not only on your body but also in your soul. Because in that brutal gesture, you understood that the blood that united you also separated you, sharper than any weapon. And that was how you tried to connect.

You strived to stand out, to learn, to shine in your own ambitions, wishing that your success would be enough to earn you a place, a bit of affection. But no matter how hard you tried, it was never enough. Your talent crashed against indifference, your achievements faded into the air, as if they had no weight in the lives of others.

The only light, the only beacon in that storm of gray, was Alfred. The only one who smiled at you with genuine tenderness, the only one you truly loved. To you, he was the real father, the one who was always there, expecting nothing in return, offering you a silent but firm love. You did call him father, and his presence was the only thing that kept your sanity, the only thing preventing the gray from consuming you completely.

But even that love, so genuine and deep, was not enough to fill the void that your own family left you. And in that void, you continue to float, trapped between the girl you were and the woman you are trying to be, searching for a place you can truly call home.

Y/n's small room, though modest, had always been her refuge. The walls were adorned with unfinished sketches, trophies from various activities, and some paintings she had completed with dedication, showcasing her passion for both manual and performing arts.

The dawn light filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the space in golden tones, giving it a warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the rest of Wayne Manor.

On the desk, a small cake rested on a plate, simple yet made with love. Beside it, Alfred, with his usual understated elegance, watched Y/n with a mixture of nostalgia and concern. He, the only one who seemed to remember her birthday, offered her a delicate professional drawing set, wrapped in smooth, elegant paper.

"Happy birthday, Miss," Alfred said with a gentle smile, although his eyes reflected a sadness that was hard to conceal. "I know how much you love art, so I thought this would be helpful for your new projects."

Y/n took the gift in her hands with a genuine smile. It had been so hard for her to find moments of joy lately, but Alfred's gesture filled her with a warmth in her chest that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She placed the gift into one of the many brown boxes she had prepared for her upcoming move.

"Thank you, Alfred. It's perfect," she said, examining the set carefully, as if each detail were a reminder of the affection he held for her. "It will help me a lot... although, well," she sighed, as if searching for the right words. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Alfred raised an eyebrow, attentive, as she continued, glancing at the small space that had been her home within the vast mansion.

"Today... today is not just my birthday. It's the day I leave here." Her voice was firm, yet there was a sense of liberation in it, as if this were a long-awaited step. "I am finally no longer a Wayne. I go back to being a L/n."

Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy and dense. Alfred clasped his hands, striving to maintain his composure.

"Miss, I can't help but feel a certain unease hearing this. Are you sure this is what you want? This house, though empty in many ways, has always been your home..."

"Home?" Y/n looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "This house has never been my home, Alfred. Not like it was for Dick, nor even for Bruce. I have always been a stranger here, the daughter of a woman who never fit into this world, the bastard child. My mother taught me to find my own path, to not cling to what doesn’t belong to me... and being here, being called Wayne, has never belonged to me." Alfred sighed softly, turning his gaze toward the window. He knew there was truth in her words, but that didn’t lessen the pain of her leaving. "I know it’s hard to understand," Y/n continued, "but for the first time in a long time, I feel happy, Alfred. I’ve graduated, college is just around the corner, and I want to start anew. I want to find what truly makes me, me... not what others expect of me."

The old butler remained silent for a few moments, nodding slowly. He knew he couldn't retain her, that it was not his place to interfere in the young woman's dreams. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the house being even emptier without her. "I just wish you find what you’re looking for, Miss. And if you ever need a place to return to... this door will always be open for you."

Y/n stepped closer to him, gently hugging him, something she had rarely done. "Thank you, Alfred," she whispered against his shoulder. "You will always be my family, but I need this. I need to discover who I am outside of this last name."

The old butler felt the lump in his throat as he tightened the embrace a little longer before letting her go. He knew that deep down, she was doing the right thing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her leave.

"Alfred, can you call the movers? I’ll be leaving tonight," Y/n said as she closed the last box with trembling hands, her gaze lost in the empty corners of the room she once considered her refuge. The butler, ever serene, nodded with his unwavering calmness.

"Don't worry, Miss, I assure you they will be here on time." His voice was soft, almost an echo of the ancient walls of the mansion, as if he himself were part of that structure that had seen so many comings and goings, so many lives broken and healed in silence.

Alfred turned halfway to leave, but Y/n's voice stopped him, broken yet sweet, like a melody at sunset. "Alfred..."

The man turned slowly, his eyes filled with paternal warmth, though always contained behind a formal gesture. "Yes, Miss?" he replied, with that tranquility that had always brought Y/n peace in her worst moments.

She took a breath, feeling how the words she had kept for so long fought to come out, to break the shell she had built since childhood. "I’ve never told you, but... thank you. Thank you for being the father I never had, for being there when no one else was."

For a moment, the silence in the room was heavier than all the accumulated boxes, deeper than any word. Alfred, who had been a witness to so many confessions and secrets in that house, stood still, his eyes shining with an emotion he rarely showed. "Miss," he murmured, his voice slightly choked, "it was an honor and a privilege to take care of you. If I ever gave you anything close to what you deserved, then my life has had true purpose."

Y/n smiled sadly, nodding slowly. "You did, Alfred. You did. And for that, I will always carry you with me, even if I leave here."

The butler slightly bowed his head in respect, swallowing any emotion that might betray his composure. "Wherever you go, you will always have a home here, Miss."

"I know," she said, though in her heart, she knew she wouldn’t return.

And as Alfred left the room to make the call, Y/n let out a long sigh, as if with it, she were leaving behind a part of herself, a part she could no longer carry with her.

Life in Gotham is like constantly walking on the edge of a razor blade. The city never sleeps, always alert, always dangerous, and for someone with the Wayne surname, the risks multiply. It has been a year since you left the mansion, trying to erase any ties that bound you to that life, desperately wishing the name would fade into the echo of the dirty streets and crumbling buildings. But it's not that easy. The name Wayne remains an indelible mark that the media and the people of Gotham refuse to let fade. The forgotten child, the silent accident of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And although you try to live as if you don’t exist under that shadow, the weight of the legacy haunts you.

You left with little, barely enough money to rent a small apartment in one of the worst corners of the city. You share the space with a friend, a plant-loving girl who has filled every nook of the place with leaves and pots, as if trying to make green defy the constant darkness of Gotham. You get along well with her; her love for nature is almost an antithesis to the chaos of the city, and she has taught you that even in the hardest concrete, something can bloom. She always accompanied you on the coldest, loneliest nights, giving you a warmth that, although ethereal, was very welcome. But still, life is not easy. You barely survive, spending the little you have on cheap food and paying the rent. There are days when the cold seeps through the poorly sealed windows, and you wonder if it was really better to be in the mansion instead of this little trench. However, you prefer this rough freedom to the soulless luxury of Wayne Manor.

Freedom, however, comes at a price. It wasn't enough to distance yourself, to change your life, or even to always carry a knife for defense. Gotham does not forget. People recognize you in the shadows, whisper your name, and approach you, sometimes with curiosity and other times with disdain. You have been beaten more than once. Some just for being a Wayne, others because they think they can extort you, even though they have no idea you can barely get by. The scars on your body bear witness to those beatings, but you refuse to give up. You get up every morning, despite the pain, and continue on your way. You don’t need Batman. You don’t need Bruce. You learned long ago that he wouldn't come to save you.

That night, like so many others, you were heading to the subway for your night shift, with the hood of your coat covering your face, trying to go unnoticed. The sound of the tracks echoed in your ears, a constant reminder of the city's hustle. You had gotten used to walking fast, avoiding eye contact, as if each step was a small battle won against the city. But this time, something was different.

"So it was true, the little Wayne girl is roaming the city... how lovely." The raspy, mocking voice rang out beside you, cutting through the heavy air of the train station. The man speaking wore a suit that, at first glance, seemed elegant, but there was something about his extreme thinness, his skin clinging to his bones and his disheveled hair, that made him look more like a specter of Gotham than a distinguished figure. A ghost from the shadows that had stalked you since you set foot on the streets.

If it weren't for his gaunt appearance and unsettling aura, you might have mistaken him for one of your father's employees. "I'm not a Wayne anymore," you said disdainfully, your voice sharp like the edge of a dagger refusing to be touched. "If you want money, I don’t have any. And Mr. Wayne wouldn’t give a cent for me either."

Your gaze drifted to the station clock. 8 minutes until the train that would take you away from this corner of Gotham, far from the shadows and faces that always seemed to recognize you.

The man let out a dry, raspy laugh that sent chills down your spine. "I don’t want your money, pretty girl," he replied, moving closer, invading your space with the same familiarity that Gotham’s filth slipped into every corner. "You’re worth more than that." You felt his calloused, scarred hand rest on your hip, with a pressure that was neither violent nor friendly. The contact filled you with disgust.

7 minutes.

You clenched your fist, your jaw tight as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I don’t want sex either, idiot," you spat, your words loaded with contained fury. Your hand subtly slid toward your bag, where your knife lay, waiting to be used.

6 minutes.

The man didn’t flinch. In fact, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "And I don’t want that either, little girl," he murmured, his cold, deep blue eyes scrutinizing you as if they could read every dark corner of your soul. "I want something more from you."

5 minutes.

"What do you want then?" you asked, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even as the ice of fear began to creep down your spine. Your eyes scrutinized him, searching his gaze for any hint of his true intentions, but all you saw was darkness.

4 minutes.

He let out a long, chilling laugh, tightening his grip on your hip. "Do you know what I want, Y/n?"

3 minutes.

His voice dropped, as if his words were a cursed secret the wind refused to carry away. "I want you."

2 minutes.

The world seemed to stop. You knew there was no time to run. There was no time to pull out the knife or to scream. It was as if the clock itself had conspired against you, reducing those last minutes to mere seconds.

1 minute.

The blow was sharp, a flash of excruciating pain at the back of your head. The cold metal of the station, the hum of the city, everything faded abruptly. The last thought that crossed your mind, before the world vanished into darkness, was that this time, you didn’t expect Batman to save you. It wasn’t a mere thief or a street threat that was taking you.

Gotham, with all its cruelty, always had new ways to remind you that there is no escape.

That night, when the Gotham subway stopped at the station, there was no one to pick up.

The mansion felt emptier than ever, like a deserted and cold labyrinth, where each hallway seemed to stretch into an infinite tunnel, devouring the light.

The silence was overwhelming, an oppression that enveloped every corner, as if even the ancient walls had run out of words. It was so heavy that the few who remained in the mansion couldn’t help but move uncomfortably, trying to fill that void with something, anything.

Bruce Wayne walked through those same hallways with a strange feeling, as if something was missing, though he didn’t know what. An unease, a persistent discomfort that he couldn’t shake off.

He had been like this for months, with that absence haunting his mind, a gap he couldn't identify. And then, suddenly, like a gust of icy wind, the truth struck him.

You.

His daughter.

His little daughter.

How long had it been since he last saw you? When was the last time he heard your laughter, the one that always seemed too sarcastic, too filled with resentment? He stopped abruptly, frowning. Why couldn’t he remember you? He couldn’t bring to mind a clear image of your face, not even how you used to look at him... why? How could he have forgotten you like that?

Damn.

It was as if time had stopped. It had been a year, maybe more, since he had really thought about you. He felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest, a heavy, silent guilt that dragged him into the abyss of his own negligence. Not knowing what else to do, he began to check the rooms, one after another.

Each door he opened was another blow to his conscience. Where was your room? The more he searched, the more confused he felt. The mansion was enormous, but how could he have forgotten where you slept? How was it possible that he didn’t know where you lived in the house where both of you grew up? Had you been here all this time?

Each door he opened was identical to the last, as if all the rooms had fused into one.

None showed a trace of you.

None seemed to have a hint of your presence. Didn’t you decorate your room? He thought frantically, didn’t you even mark it as yours? Panic began to take hold of him. Anxiety wrapped around him like a fist tightening on his chest. Were you still living in the mansion? Or had you left without saying a word, like a shadow fading at dawn? But... no, you hadn’t mentioned anything. You hadn’t said you were leaving. Or had you? And if you had, why didn’t he remember? How could he have ignored you for so long that now he didn’t even know if you were still under the same roof?

“Ah!” he exclaimed in a whisper, unable to contain the dread he felt.

Frustration consumed him from within. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily, and the echo of his voice faded into the empty walls. He tried to remember something, anything about you, about the last time they spoke, about how you were... but everything was blurry, as if his mind was betraying him, hiding you behind an impenetrable fog.

How could he have forgotten so much?

He brought his hands to his head, trying to calm himself, but only felt more confusion, more desperation. The mansion, which had once been his home, now felt like a strange and foreign place.

Had you been the one who made it feel like home? The question echoed in his mind, but he had no answer. Just more questions. More uncertainties. Finally, he let his arms fall, exhausted. He had checked almost all the rooms and had found not a trace of you. Not a clue. Not a sign that you had been there. And at that moment, something dark and painful began to settle in his heart.

Had you ever really been there?

Then something caught his attention as he passed by the cleaning room. In a dusty corner, next to a forgotten bag, something was protruding. Something small, old, and faded. He bent down and pulled it from the dirty clothes. It was a stuffed animal, or what was left of one. The faded black of its suit left no doubt. It was a figure of Batman, but worn down by time, battered to the point of looking forgotten.

Bruce's eyes were fixed on the small piece of fabric hanging from the doll's neck. A tag.

Your name.

Your name, handwritten, in ink that was already fading.

Bruce felt a lump in his throat, a mix of guilt and rage. How could he have forgotten something so important?

He clutched the doll tightly, as if doing so would return a piece of you to him, but instead of comfort, he only felt more emptiness. Where were you? He ran to Alfred, who looked at him with a mix of concern and pity.

"Alfred..." Bruce said, his voice breaking. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

The butler, with his always serene face, seemed to age suddenly. A long silence settled between them, as if time was fading away. "Mr. Bruce, I didn’t mean to..." Alfred lowered his gaze. "I didn’t want to burden you with that truth, but... it’s time you know."

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. Truth? What truth?

"She left almost a year ago. She didn’t say where. She just... she took all her belongings, though they weren’t many, and left. She said she didn’t want to be a burden. That you and the other family members had too many things to worry about."

Bruce took a step back, as if the words had physically struck him. Did she have enough age to leave? A burden? Never, not for a second, did he think that of you, of his little daughter who, even though she wasn’t wanted, he embraced under his wing just like Damian.

You were never a burden.

...or were you?

No, he refused to acknowledge it; he just... he hadn’t spent time with you because Gotham needed him!

But when you needed him, where was Batman?

Where was Bruce Wayne when his only biological daughter needed him?

"Alfred, do you know anything about Y/n?" the hero asked, worry clear on his face.

Alfred didn’t look at him; he only stared into nothingness. "...I haven’t heard anything about her for two months...

And honestly... I'm starting to think...

that she might be lost to us forever..."

A/N — This is definitely apart from being my first official Tumblr post, it is also my first DC post and especially the first from the Lord of the Night xD

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

Isabel, I dedicate this to you, my love. Eat more to be well, you fucking anorexic, don't suck.

take a bath!

inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

[taesanrot]

[earrings] anton x f!reader | 1.5k words fwb!anton, secret relationship kinda, theyre in a bit of a limbo hehe syn. in which anton accidently leaves behind evidence of his stay last night note. first anton au hehe, also my first riize fic in a minute. hope u guys r enjoying this series so far :)

now playing: earrings by malcolm todd

"her love is your head, you lost your earrings in her bed"

anton was fucked, he was sure of that. it only took a glance at his reflection in the mirror to notice the jewelry he was missing, his usual earrings nowhere to be seen.

hand shooting up to feel his jewelry-less earlobes, he sighed and massaged his temples slowly. it was barely 10 in the morning, and he'd just trudged back to his place after being shooed out of your apartment.

you and anton were … complicated, for a lack of better terms. if the two of you were being honest, you'd say you were talking — although you definitely did a lot more than that when you were together.

anton didn't mind the slower pace; he wasn't itching to jump into anything super quickly, and he enjoyed getting to know you bit by bit.

what he struggled with a little more was you requesting to keep things between the two of you a secret. your friend circles were pretty much merged, and you weren't super keen on letting them in on your escapades with the taller boy just yet.

this meant quiet excuses away from larger functions, meeting up to walk to one of your places, and panicked morning afters.usually he had until at least noon to make his way back to his own place, but today you'd promised your friends that you'd study for a calculus exam with them.

anton groaned and whined when you'd shaken him awake at nine in the morning, saying something about some people coming over in an hour. he could barely hear over his exhaustion, eyes bleary as he looked at your face hovering above him.

you were trying to explain that his friends were on their way but all he could focus on was the strands of your soft hair falling in his face and how good you smelled. you eventually herded the poor boy out of your apartment, sending him on his way back home with a wet kiss to his cheek and a protein bar.

what neither of you seemed to remember were anton's earrings sitting in the small tray on your nightstand. they were the earrings he wore everywhere — gold links with his initials engraved on the front.

over time, anton made a habit of taking them off and placing them on your nightstand before getting in bed with you. the two of you learned the hard way that keeping them on in bed was not a good idea; the second time anton came over, your hair had gotten tangled in the metal and he almost lost an earlobe.

groggily pulling his phone out of his pocket, anton debated sending you a text. he typed it out before hesitating. what if someone looked at your phone screen and saw the text from him? how would you explain yourself? frustrated, anton shut his phone off and tossed it onto his bed.

god, anton hated sneaking around. but he liked you, more than he'd like to admit, and the last thing he wanted was go against what you asked of him. he just hoped that no one would notice the earrings before going to take a shower.

...

"morning." seunghan greeted you cheerfully as you answered the door. shotaro and sohee followed after, waving at you before walking into your apartment.

"sup, ning." as you shut the door you heard shotaro greet ningning, who had arrived 10 minutes earlier and was sitting in your living room.

eventually, the 5 of you migrated to your bedroom to study — you, ningning, and sohee were sprawled across the floor while shotaro and seunghan sat on your bed. your calculus notes were strewn about, having studied for what felt like days.

yawning and stretching his arms, seunghan sat up a bit, taking his attention off of the chapter you guys were reviewing. the rest of you were chattering with each other, reviewing a practice problem that was particularly confusing.

"ugh, what time is it?" he mumbled, leaning over to look at the clock on your nightstand. his phone was somewhere in your blankets and his notes, and he wasn't keen on looking for it.

before his eyes could drift to your alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, his attention was caught by something shiny glinting at his eyes.

your focus was pulled from your notes as you heard a soft gasp from the direction of your bed. looking up, your eyes widened at the sight in front of you.

seunghan had one of anton's earrings in his fingers, eyes squinting as he inspected it curiously.

"are these anton's?" he asked suspiciously, turning to look at you. his lips were curled slightly upwards, clearly amused by the discovery. your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you stumbled over your words, not knowing what to say.

"uh-" before you could deny it, sohee interjected.

"they totally are! he wears those like every day!" sohee exclaimed. shotaro and ningning also looked up from their work, both of them giggling at how obviously flustered you were.

"no they're not, those are mine." you mumbled unconvincingly, cringing at how bad your lie was.

"you're lying! i can see his initials on them!" seunghan was leaning across the bed to show the rest of your friends, all of them nodding in agreement.

"y/n why do you have those?" ningning's head tilted confusedly as she turned in your direction. after a beat of silence, a look of realization passed across shotaro's face.

"he was here, wasn't he?" he asked, the knowing smile on his face growing even bigger. you choked on your spit at his question, coughing lightly.

"what are you talking about?" sohee rolled his eyes and seunghan laughed loudly at your weak response.

"hyung's right, he totally was here!"

"did he spend the night?"

"oh my god y/n did you guys fuck?"

"ok, enough!" you spoke up, finally finding your voice. you gulped nervously before continuing. "yes, anton was here last night. we've been seeing each other for a while."

you let out the biggest breath, one you didn't even know you were holding as the words escaped your mouth. seunghan was the first one to break the silence following your announcement.

"i fucking knew it!" he exclaimed, taking you by surprise.

"huh?" you asked, perplexed.

"you know you guys aren't that subtle right?" ningning laughed as she spoke, ruffling your hair gently. "we all noticed you two leaving every function together."

"not to mention the way you basically eye fuck each other 24/7" sohee fake gagged, earning a punch in the arm from you.

…

after his whirlwind of a morning, anton decided to shower and take a well-deserved nap. unlike you, he did not have calculus test to study for, so after washing up he climbed into his covers and caught up on some much needed sleep.

a couple hours later, he finally woke up, groaning at the sun shining onto his face. it was late afternoon, and the light shined directly on his eyes, making going back to sleep nearly impossible. stretching his arms and legs, he rubbed his eyes and sat up groggily, grabbing his phone to check the time.

to his surprise, he was greeted by what seemed like 100 notifications from his messages. clicking them open, his eyes widened as the words came into focus.

it was in fact, your friends' group chat discussing the two of your and your not-so-secret arrangement. his eyes nearly popped out of his head reading the texts, still groggy from just waking up.

scrolling through the rest of his notifications quickly, he clicked on one with your name.

3 missed calls from y/n <3

[2:03 p.m.] y/n <3: r u asleep? call me when you see this

anton's fingers were practically shaking as he dialed your number, each ring making him wish the earth would open up and swallow him whole. his anxious thoughts were interrupted by your soft voice.

"hey."

"hi."

"um… did you see the groupchat?" anton winced. straight to the point, then.

"yeah… i'm sorry. i forgot them in a rush this morning" he felt like he was holding his breath waiting for you to answer, until he heard you chuckle on the other end of the line.

"anton, it's okay."

"what? but i thought-"

"it's about time we told them anyways, i'm tired of sneaking around." you laughed as you heard anton stutter on the line.

"plus, i like you, a lot."

"me too." he spoke softly, his heart nearly exploding in his chest. you smiled on the other end; his timidness never failed to make you feel giddy.

"good, cause it would've been really awkward if you didn't" you giggled, fiddling with the end of your shirt.

"so … does this mean i can take you on a real date now?"

"hmmm i guess that's fine" you answered teasingly. anton sighed dramatically on the other end, slapping a hand over his chest so loud that even you could hear it.

"in that case, what are you doing tonight?"

…

[bonus] the groupchat

[lightofraye]

The Reasons I'm Anti-Danneel (Redone)

I've decided to redo the original post, largely as most of it was heavily drawn/copy-pasted from @taraslittlecorner (now defunct/deactivated) and was not a good fit for me. Listing receipts/evidence of why I feel this way should be calmer, with citations, proof as much as possible.

Here’s a caveat: This is my belief. This is my stance. I am not here to shove this into anyone else’s face and go “You should not be a Danneel fan!” I'm not demanding everyone believe me. This is me explaining why I am not a fan of hers, as to why I dislike her. No, I do not “hate” her. No, I am not obligated to respect her or like her just because she’s Jensen’s wife. That’s absurd.

Whenever possible, I will provide citation. Some I am unable to, because they have been deleted from the internet and unfortunately, the Wayback Machine (aka the Internet Archive) did not archive it and no one else screenshotted/linked the evidence. I will try to keep that as minimal as possible.

I'm placing a content/trigger warning, as there may be descriptions of abuse to follow. If description of abuse bothers you, even emotional abuse, I advise you to skip.

I'll add a cut here because it's going to get long!

**Disclaimer** This are observations and opinions of what I’ve seen, as well as what others have seen on social media, in interviews, etc. Each relationship is different, and each domestic abuse case can vary in degrees of abuse, usually over time, but not always. These are just some of the things we can see publicly, and if things are shown publicly, it’s a safe bet there’s worse happening behind closed doors. I’m not a medical professional nor expert, again, these are opinions and observations. If you suspect someone you love is in an abusive relationship, please contact the proper outlets for battered women and men in your area.

Now to begin.

1. Fat Shaming Him

Jensen eating gummy bears. This post was made as a public stab at Jensen for the amount of gummy bears he was eating. It was a stab at not only his eating habits/weight, but it was also a stab at him being greedy or gluttonous.

Jensen on the carousel. Another stab at Jensen about his weight.

1A. The End Result Of Fat Shaming:

There was this. Yes, it was probably around the time he was training for the marathon with Jared, but this was a scary weight drop. Especially as marathons and running require you to really increase your caloric intake to keep your weight and energy up. On the heels of the public fat-shaming, this is rather shocking.

Dated: January 17, 2018.

Ignoring Danneel's claim of "marathon body", he did look skinny. You can compare how Jensen looked at the beginning of Supernatural to later seasons and there's a distinct difference. He's skinnier. Skinny does not always equate healthy, especially if it's muscle loss.

Unfortunately, other photos are in evidence of the massive weight loss.

This Tumblr post shows him still rather skinny during an event at FBBC.

Every time Jensen has to quarantine with her he starts to look like death warmed over, weight drop, sickly looking skin color, (which is also a sign of malnutrition), and that dead look we can’t get seem to forget. Then we get him back to work, and it’s almost an immediate improvement.

2. Unexplained Injury: There is the chunk that’s missing out of his nose now because of a nose injury that kept being explained in different instances at the same event as to how he even got it. It first appeared a day after the FBBC family reunion event that took place in May of 2018 in a post made by Danneel of Jensen playing with the kids, and people thought it was just a breathe right strip.

If you look closely, you can even see that his eyes looked to be blacked, as if he’d somehow broken his nose. Once he got to an event for Danneel’s Limbo Jewelry line launch in NYC, he kept changing the story as to how he got said injury. First he told fans that he’d hurt it by hitting a pool wall while playing with his kids. Then he said he’d dropped a keg on it. Well, if you’ve ever worked for a bar or been around kegs you know those things are heavy, and that story is untrue.

Had Danneel been walking around with an unknown injury and her story kept changing, it would have gotten attention. Men… not so much, and it shows.

3. Public Humiliation: There’s this Valentine’s Day post. Imagine reading that post, seeing your spouse mention their “first” love and then jokingly say you’re the second and “more important” love. Especially on the heels of Jensen’s fairly recent share at a convention of how “he’ll do” as her “second choice”. Your spouse should’ve been your first and only choice!

Posting him in his underwear just to garner some attention to her post. Honestly, it's pathetic, and adds to the narcissistic sociopath mentality assessment. What was the post about? To sell beer outside of Texas. But using Jensen to do it? Really, Danneel? God.

Then there's the photo of him in the bathroom. Some say he was a willing participant in the joke. I say "That doesn't matter." It's gross, crude, classless. It demonstrates how selfish she is.

I absolutely have a sense of humor. However, a joke only works if everyone is laughing.

Then there's this Jared photo. While not related to Jensen, it demonstrates just how much she doesn't care about people. She stated that she lied to Jared, that she deleted it, and then posted it anyway. How much you wanna bet that this was one of many reasons Jared and Genevieve pulled back from the Ackles? Because Danneel does not respect the Padaleckis, and Jensen cannot get Danneel to actually behave like a human being.

There's the whole AD House Tour. The whole video, she’s taking swipes at Jensen left and right. Claiming he didn't help in changing the kids’ diapers, to not cleaning the house at all, to not cooking at all.

Time stamp 0:58: The way Jensen hastily goes "not swing", to this day, honestly makes me wonder. Especially about that orgy rumor tweet....

Time stamp 1:14: Implying Jensen would be against flowers because it'd be "too girly", but then claiming he loved it. This makes me wonder. You'll see why later on in this post.

Time stamp 2:10: How is it Jensen didn't know that was the sex plant of a palm until then? Did he know nothing about that house??

Time stamp 3:11: Claiming it was Jensen’s first time in the kitchen, which literally doesn't make sense. Unless he'd been barred from the kitchen, surely he'd been in there to grab a beer, a snack, something for the kids. By saying this, she's implying that he uses her as a servant to get him everything. (I’m intrigued by Jensen's statement about the stove/oven, and how it was “so unnecessary”. He's been overruled.)

Time stamp 4:00: Jensen is very, very shocked that the chair moves. How is he that surprised by a moving chair? Does he not live there?! With kids, stuff would move!

Time stamp 5:39: Again, implying Jensen never helps out with the kids, the diapers. Uh, Danneel, neither do you. You have nannies.

Time stamp 6:04: She says it’s “ridiculous” he’s doing a marathon? It’s for charity, Danneel! So much for being a caring, compassionate person.

Time stamp 6:39: Jensen has to go to the guest room when he comes home late at night? Does Danneel not want to greet her husband lovingly, regardless of how late it is? She prioritizes sleep over him? Ooookay.

Time stamp: 6:58: Persistently tortures Jensen with the creepy doll. She knows it bothers him, yet keeps it around and keeps torturing him with it. Yeah, cool, that’s love, folks!

Time stamp 9:04: States rather publicly that he never cleaned the bathrooms. Danneel, honey, I’m fairly certain you don’t either—you have maids.

Time stamp 9:20: Embarrasses Jensen with the “where the magic happens” statement about the master suite. Jensen asked for it to not be included. Oh look. It's included. Overruled him again. He never has his way, does he, Danneel?

Time stamp 9:46: Of course Danneel doesn’t care that Jensen doesn’t like the big window and how people might be able to look in when they’re in the bathroom. She loves the attention and loves bragging about the man she trapped in marriage, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him. So considerate.

Time stamp 11:41: Puts Jensen down by saying she’s a little bit neater than him. Then puts him down again by saying he had help on cleaning up his side. Do you ever praise your husband, woman??

Yet, she praised him here, about how he’s been pitching in with mopping, preparing FBBC. Liar, liar, pants on fire at this point.

The FBBC interview. Let's not kid ourselves. That interview was bad. The interviewer didn't really do a good job, but it revealed a lot about the dynamic between Danneel and Jensen. At one point, Danneel claimed Jensen didn’t smell good, and he tried to excuse it because he was mopping (wait, I thought he didn't do any cleaning, Danneel??). Then she was like “Oh yeah he did so...” Then she made that horrible joke about being pregnant and Jensen actually gagged. Yes, he tried to play it off as a joke, but the look on his face was not that of a man who was happy to hear his wife was pregnant again. (Not to mention, you should never make such jokes because it’s such a heavily sensitive topic. Jokes only work if everyone laughs.) All of it was meant to humiliate and put Jensen down for the work he did in making FBBC a reality. There’s also the part where they were asked if they were tired of each other. Jensen was quick to say “Yes”.

Then there's Wales Comic Con. She made up the fib about auditioning for every single Supernatural female role, claimed she tried to use knowing/being with Jensen as a way in (that's called nepotism, dear), and all of that was... a lie. Then she tried to claim credit for helping Jensen drop the Dean voice while humiliating him about it. (He actually tried to defend himself by saying that was his voice.) The whole panel was humiliation after another. I detailed it in this post.

Not to mention her saying Jensen wasn't anything like David Spade and said “no, but you'll do”. Wow. Way to put your husband down and say he’s second best (again). Good lord.

Yet, she also said this:

Either he helps or he doesn’t, Danneel. Which is it?

4. Controlling. This part. I've gotten push back on this. “She doesn't work, she stays home all the time, how could she possibly control Jensen??”

By controlling his social media, and had been for years. No doubt this is largely to keep the facade of “happily married couple”, with her making posts on his Instagram in honor of her, praising her, and so forth. It’s also a way of monitoring his interactions with others, particularly women, and to keep track of who he’s been in touch with.

Indeed, I suspect up until Danneel’s birthday post this year, any comments, posts, that praised her were all Danneel, not Jensen.

Access to one’s cellphone, email address, and other social media is almost as good as attaching a GPS onto a person. If she accessed his cloud, she can access everything from text messages he’s sent to his most recent emails to his employers.

I have some proof but it will take time to document all of them.

There’s also this post, showing the difference between Danneel and Jensen.

There are also indications, histories, of Danneel signing fan autographs that said something along the lines of “hands off bitches, he’s mine”.

Jealous much, Ms. Graul?

It doesn't come across to me as "adorable" or "mischievous". It comes across to me as an insecure woman who knows her hold is tenuous at best.

But then she has a history of being controlling and jealous everywhere. Such as here and here.

She also insisted on him going out and looking for work all the time. Even after him wanting to reconnect with the family after the end of Supernatural. He suggested a three month trip around Europe, for the family.

Her response?

Then there were the recent cons where he mentioned it again, where Danneel is pushing him to go work, work, work. He’s never allowed to be home, to be a father, to be a husband. A loving marriage? I don't think so.

To be continued in Part Two.

[shintaru]

Light Calvary | dating head canons

Sabbath, hummingbird, Kazuma, league of street, windbreaker

m.list ♡ taglist

Owen Knight ~

Obsessed with you

Stalks you every corner you turn he will be there

You no longer have any alone time. Doesn’t matter if you’re sleeping, showering, shopping, cooking, driving, or walking he’s there

Would let you wear his clothes, he definitely sprays his cologne on it before giving it to you

Random hugs, if he feels affectionate prepare yourself you’re most likely not getting away from him 🤣🤣

He’s very jealous, he doesn’t mind you hanging around the guys in his crew but if anyone had a crush on you or still has one he won’t like you hanging around them especially if it’s an ex

Overprotective, if you try to help give a random man directions somehow the guys head almost gets taken off

Will walk you home, probably never lets you walk anywhere by yourself especially at night

Sometimes you have to hide from him to get some alone time but expect him to spam call you

Would spoil you, whatever you want you’ll get it

Would know how to cheer you up when you’re sad and if he doesn’t know what to say he’ll stay by your side and offer cuddles

Wants to do his morning and night routine with you everyday you can’t miss a day or you’ll have to deal with him pouting until you make it up to him

Would have Harry & Noah watch you and report what you do back to him, if he’s unable to be there

Camilla Nelson ~

She works a lot so she loves when you take interest in her work.

Will wear your clothes to bed.

Sprays her perfume on any gifts she gives you

Knows everything about you without you telling her

Would like restaurant dates but prefers to stay at home and relax with you

Would wear your clothes to bed

Helps you with your skin care and nutrition

Likes receiving roses

Likes giving you health advice

Extremely jealous but she won’t tell you how she feels at first she’ll make comments about it and you can tell she’s in a bad mood because she looks pissed off and she’s ignoring you

She’s a little controlling

She’s always busy with light Calvary crew

She doesn’t like when you don’t answer her calls or texts right away

Chris D’Char ~

Would use sarcasm during an argument

You can’t go on restaurant dates, he eats everything and makes a mess as he eats. He also talks while he eats and crumbs fly out of his mouth.

He’s very loud, like too loud. If you get separated in a store you’ll hear him before you see him surprisingly since he’s huge. He will shout your name across the store making everyone stare.

Would try to share food with you but he’s definitely eating it all if you eat slow. If he finishes his food he might just eat yours too.

Would like seeing you in his clothes

Laughs extremely loud when you can’t reach something on a high shelf

Except a lot of physical touches, he doesn’t ask if he wants to touch you he’s going to. Ofc when it comes to nsfw he’d ask for consent but if he wants to hug you or place his arms around you he will just do it.

Loves going on dates that involve anything with food.

Would gift you jewelry sometimes it matches his

Likes spraying his cologne on clothes he lets you wear

Would want you to travel with him anywhere he goes

Would steal your hair clips

Likes when you cook for him, sometimes he’ll come up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist watching you cook for a little while.

Noah Austin ~

Obsessed with you

She hasn’t had many kind people in her life so she’s really shocked when you show you care.

Follows you around sometimes

Probably always with you

Shares random snacks with you

She’s the jealous type, if you’re seen with anyone else other than the people she knows she will be jealous but she won’t say anything

Would gift you food

Doesn’t mind where the date location is. As long as she gets food and you both are hanging out

Would want you to watch her race

If you got into an argument and you want alone time away from her that’s just not going to happen she’ll follow you everywhere until you talk to her

Would steal your clothes

She’s also very loud especially in stores so like Chris if you two got separated except her to just shout across the store until she finds you

Very affectionate, likes holding your hands, cuddling, dragging you to random places that she wants to go

Harry Shepherd ~

Shares chicken with you

Talks about doping 24/7 to the point you’d choke him if you could

Talks a lot about cyclist that inspired him

Would love seeing you in his clothes because he thinks it’s both cute and funny how huge his clothes are on you

Walks with you everywhere

You have to scold him because he always loses his wallet because he can’t stop taking off his hoodie when he races people

You have to accept the fact he will beat people up if they look at either one if you the wrong way, once he gets worked up there is no stopping him

Doesn’t like going on date night he prefers to order food and stay home

Loves laying on you so he can laugh when you can’t get up

Overprotective type, mostly because he likes having a reason to fight

If you’re mad at him he’d purposely put things on high shelves so you’ll ask for his help

I feel like he secretly would like cuddles but he would also end up crushing his partner by rolling over on them once he actually falls asleep and definitely hogs blankets.

He is a little insecure, so from time to time he will need reassurance

Dedications @rossesnd @cozyunderworld @catsrkool @owenskitten

I hope these head canons are good and not ooc😭😭 some characters I can write so much for cause I understand their character a little better but other characters I don’t understand as well or know enough yet to write the same amount

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Say my Name, As if it’s Drowning in the Tide - Jayce x Reader (Chapter 2/End)

Summary: But Jayce is weak. So unbelievably weak. And the voice of temptation in the back of his mind insists you will never want him the same way he does you. It’s cowardly, and it’s spineless, and it goes against everything he’s ever been taught to value. Yet none of it seems to matter when he looks at you, bare in front of him, hair wet and sticking to your skin in heavy curls like a siren in the stormy sea. He’d sell his soul if it meant having you, and in more ways than one, he is.

Pairing: Jayce x Reader Modern AU, one-sided Viktor x Reader

Word Count: 8.2K

Warning: Explicit

Tags: Hate Sex, Emotional Roleplay, One-sided Attraction, Switch!Jayce, Rough Sex, Biting, Shower Sex, Oral Sex (Female receiving), Eating Out, Angst, First Time, Virginity, Vaginal Sex, Size Kink, Jayce Has A Big Dick, Self-Hate, Praise Kink, Body Worship, Crying

Notes: A LITTLE LATE BUT AS PROMISED, I’m publishing the ending to this fic before the end of January (and the beginning of my surprise Valentine’s Day event 👀). This one is gonna be quite the emotional ride, so better strap in, fellas (PS: I SWEAR I love Jayce with all my heart I just love toying with his heart because I’m a monster)

(Chapter 1)

“Do you want to know what Viktor likes or not? Because I haven't told you anything about what he wants in bed.”

‘Fuck you’, you wish you could spit back at Jayce. ‘What would you even know about what anyone wants in bed, you pathetic two-pump loser?’

It's extremely tempting, if only to see his face go crimson in frustration and embarrassment again, but you know his fragile little ego might not survive it. And no matter how much you'd like to deny it, he's right: you do want to know about what Viktor likes.

You want to know every single thing about Viktor so badly, it hurts.

You've fallen for him in the same way a forest fire burns: slowly, and then all at once, overwhelming, relentless, all-consuming. It's gotten almost painful to be near him in the last few months, your stomach contorting angrily whenever he gives you a witty smile or laughs at your idiotic banter. The desire for him to look at you, and only you, is searing your skin a little more each passing day; so much so that you wonder if there will be anything left of you but ashes by the time you muster the courage to confess.

And God, do you want to: the need to tell him how you feel has become a constant itch that's as painful as it’s unending. All it would take to quench these all-consuming flames are three little words, three measly syllables, a laughable eight letters.

Yet you just can’t say them.

Because underneath all the bravado you're always putting on, you're nothing more than a hypocrite, who is absolutely terrified of hearing his answer. Of seeing nothing but compassionate pity in those soothing golden eyes of his, a gentle ‘I'm sorry’ forming on his lips, and burning you alive once and for all.

So, you wait for a sign from Viktor: a word, a touch, anything that would make the risk of confessing more bearable. As a born engineer, you've always been pragmatic and logical to a fault; you simply won’t jeopardize your relationship with him based on insignificant data and hopeful speculations. Maybe it's nothing more than a spineless justification to let yourself wither away, but it's the best you, and your burning little heart, can do.

After all, something is comforting about staying in the unknown— in that state of limbo where there's no real acknowledgment of the nature of your feelings, or his. But the fire that is Viktor is relentless, ever burning, and it consumes you inch by inch, growing every minute you spend with him working side by side at the Academy.

It worsens more each time he remembers insignificant details about you: how you like a touch of extra cinnamon in your morning latte, how much you hate seeing your middle name used in the lab's paperwork, how you always fidget with your jewelry when you're stressed— little habits and quirks he somehow never misses or fails to offer a helping hand with.

You've been in love before, but never like this; and you doubt you ever will again. Viktor is the type of person you can only meet once in your life, a shooting star that graces the human eye every thousand years, just to disappear the second you look away, before you ever get the chance to tell it it's beautiful.

And then, there's Jayce.

Jayce, who looks nothing like Viktor, with his muscular frame, perfectly symmetrical smile, and sun-kissed skin.

Jayce, who is nothing like Viktor, with his annoyingly booming voice, total lack of social awareness, and oversized ego. Whose very presence signifies, at best, an incoming headache, and at worst, endless screaming matches and arguments over the most minor details.

Things hadn't always been that way with him. There had been admiration, at first, back when you had been accepted as dean Cecil B. Heimmerdinger’s newest pupil, and the fourth member of his elite team of post-graduates. He had more than his fair share of accolades for a man in his mid-twenties: many of his papers were cited in the highest calibre of academic journals, and he had a list of awards and scholarships almost as long as your arm. You had truly believed you would learn a lot from him.

It barely took a week with him for all your naive and bright-eyed delusions to come crashing down. Behind the pretty face and the accomplishments was nothing but arrogance and disregard for all the discipline you valued. It all came so maddeningly easy to him— school, work, looks—like effort was beneath him, or even worse, completely foreign to him.

He hadn’t been shy with his interest in you for a second, either. Between the corny pickup lines and the obvious stares at the meat of your thighs, Jayce hadn’t been quite subtle; but you had no endearment for men like him. A pretty boy whose grandiose romantic gestures were clearly an attempt to quickly get into your pants, only to leave you behind the moment your novelty had worn off. The type to take everything for granted, including women’s affection, and to never have heard a single ‘no’ in their life.

There was no way you were going to fall for it.

Yet the more drily you rejected his advances, the more Jayce seemed interested in you. It had to simply be the novelty of someone finally rejecting him and seeing his true nature that fascinated him. But it wasn’t love that he felt for you; it couldn't be.

People like him could love no one but themselves.

He would glance at you with desperate puppy eyes whenever he thought you weren’t looking, a shiny toy out of his reach. Every now and then, on one of his trashed design drafts, you’d find tiny pencilled sketches of your face with a surprising level of accuracy. He clearly took some pleasure in arguing with you over everything and nothing, and you'd lie if you said that you never got some enjoyment out of that dynamic.

You had let his resolve weaken you once, and only once, early into your arrival at the lab, and long before you had developed any feelings for the then much more reserved Viktor.

And it had been a mistake.

—

Those first few months had been gruelling for you: as the newest recruit, you did much more dull and tedious paperwork than any practical or creative assignments in the lab. It was hard, and the long hours of staring at nothing but the bright blue light of your computer screen made you dizzy; but you wouldn't have exchanged it for the world.

You had earned your place here by never being complacent, by refusing to see any task as below you or too difficult to accomplish. You had been a diligent student under the harshest of conditions throughout your life, and you would continue reaching higher and higher by working hard, and always proving your worth.

One day soon, you’d be standing at the very top of it all, with your wildest dreams accomplished; and it would be with the knowledge that you had made it there entirely of your own merit.

You had been surprised and apprehensive to see an email from Professor Heimerdinger that morning, requesting that you pass by his office. Heimerdinger was very much not the type to plan out discussions, preferring to randomly pop in and out of the lab to hold impromptu, casual meetings, so the atypically formal message had made you feel uneasy.

You were under the impression you had integrated into the program quite well, and that you had begun nicely bonding with your two lab partners. Although you had had strong reservations about Jayce and his attitude, and were still extremely on the fence about your opinion of him, his puppy-like charm had started to wear you out, and you had agreed to go get coffee with him during that weekend.

You had made it very clear it wasn't a romantic encounter, but a team-bonding exercise: an occasion for him to prove some of your unfavourable impressions of him wrong. Then, maybe, and only maybe, you'd consider the idea of a date with him; but he didn't need to know that yet, lest he’d let it go to his head.

For now, your focus was only on your appointment with Heimerdinger, and the anxious knot in the pit of your stomach.

You knocked on his door gently before coming in, finding the short, older man perched on top of a small ladder, nose-deep in one of the many books that lined every inch of the walls. The countless volumes adorned his office like multicoloured bricks, giving a cozy, yet slightly claustrophobic feel to the small room.

“You asked to see me, professor ?” you cleared your throat, attempting to steady your voice to appear more composed.

Heimerdinger raised his head in surprise, likely so entranced in the huge textbook that dwarfed his small frame that he hadn’t heard you come into his literary fortress—or even remembered he had scheduled a meeting with you.

“Ah, yes, dear girl, come on in and take a seat!” he exclaimed, closing the book with a loud ‘thwack’. He struggled a bit to place it back on one of the shelves as you sat to face his desk, eyeing his precarious position wearily. He, thankfully, managed to make his way down the creaking ladder without incident, landing on his feet with a slight wobble.

“The great, dangerous heights one has to reach to gain knowledge,” he mumbled pensively, a chubby hand running through his wild tuft of dusty blonde hair. “One would think that with twenty years of service here, the finance department could afford to invest in a less perilous stepping stool.”

He made his way to the other side of the desk, settling comfortably in his pillowy chair. He adjusted his thick, round glasses, his expression indecipherable behind the imposing white mustache that covered most of his lower face.

You immediately let yourself fear the worst, your firm conviction that you had been doing well since your arrival crumbling like a house of cards.

“Have I been performing… below your expectations, sir?” you asked abruptly, the anxious ball in your stomach tightening on itself.

Heimerdinger cocked his head to the side in confusion, frowning, his thick eyebrows shifting down like two fuzzy caterpillars.

“Now why would you say such a silly thing? You’ve been going above and beyond, from everything I’ve seen and heard,” he complimented with a reassuring smile. He gave you a sly wink, and you felt your shoulders relax, the tension leaving your body like a puff of smoke. “I have an eye for exceptionally talented people. I wouldn't have recruited you if I hadn’t been wholeheartedly convinced of your capacities.”

“Thank you, sir,” you exhaled, releasing a sharp breath you hadn't realized you were holding. So it was all a misunderstanding then. Everything was alright. “May I ask why you’ve requested to see me this morning, then?”

Heimerdinger only hummed as an answer, opening one of his desk's drawers and digging through a visibly messy pile of documents. “Aha!” he exclaimed, pulling out a single sheet of paper with a flourish, and handing it to you with no further explanation.

You grabbed it carefully, quickly looking it over with growing confusion: the bold title only stated your name, next to the words PROJECT TRANSFER.

“Here you go, all signed and completed,” Heimerdinger added with a casual wave of the hand. “I would have simply sent it to you by email, but protocol requires you to sign it in front of me. You know how bureaucrats get,” he rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

The more snippets you caught of the document, the less you understood. ‘Personal request made by the student to be discharged from desk work duty for the Wyatt Project — Approved by team supervisor — Reason for request: Lack of affinity with the project and given tasks — Signatures of department head, team supervisor, and concerned student below’.

“I’m sorry, what… is this?” you asked slowly in hesitation.

The Wyatt project had been the most tiresome and dull assignment you had been given as of yet at the Academy, and although you often complained about it in your off time, you had never made any sort of official demand to be transferred from it.

“The discharge paper for the Wyatt project,” the older man explained, seemingly surprised by your lack of enthusiasm or recognition. “I was told you didn’t enjoy the busy work much and would prefer a change of pace. I’ll be putting you on the assignment corrections for the undergrads, which should be much simpler and less time-consuming.”

Your mind began racing chaotically, attempting to puzzle how a few unserious, nitpicky rants could have possibly made their way as an official demand to the dean himself. You barely registered the empathic nod he gave you as he cleared his voice, a sparkle of something akin to remorse in his eyes.

“Perhaps I was requesting a lot of you for your very first semester here, with an assignment as advanced as this. My apologies, dear girl. But do know this transfer is a rare exception, and I will require more receptiveness from you for future tasks.”

The slight pitying look he gave you made you feel like throwing up.

You'd disappointed him.

You had failed the expectations of the man who took a chance on you as his youngest pupil, and you weren't even aware of how you had done it.

“I—I mean yes, the Wyatt project is a lot of busy work, but I never—who told you I asked to be taken out?” you managed to stutter.

Who? Who could have possibly gone so out of their way to ruin the reliable and efficient reputation you were working so hard to build here? Your mind came up blank, reviewing the few people you might have said anything to, and not finding a single one who would so blatantly jeopardize your fragile new position.

“Why, Jayce,” Heimerdinger said as if it was entirely obvious. “As your team leader, he gives me monthly reports of the status of each project you're involved with. He was quite adamant about putting you off the Wyatt and onto an easier project.”

A flash of understanding crossed his face at the sight of your decomposing expression.

“Has… Jayce not discussed this with you?”

No. No, he hadn’t.

You barely remembered the walk out of Heimerdinger's office after that, fuelled only by a mixture of incomprehension and betrayal. With each step, it shifted into something much stronger, a fury burning from your core directed not only at him, but at yourself.

You slammed the door of the lab open, the plexiglass banging against the frame with a dull thud:

“How fucking dare you?!”

Jayce was thankfully alone in the lab, but even if Viktor had been here, you weren't sure you would have managed to control the outpour of anger. The man looked up from his notes in surprise:

“Woah—wait—excuse me?” Jayce stammered, visibly more confused than insulted.

“Who do you think you are to decide what I can do or not?!” you seethed, barreling rapidly towards him. “How dare you go around asking things in my name to our supervisor?”

He got up from his chair hurridly, eyes wide, raising his hands in a placating gesture as if you were a wild animal ready to attack.

"Relax, I really have no idea—" he started hastily, only to stop mid-sentence as realization dawned on him. His brows knit together in confusion. "Wait... is this about the Wyatt project?”

"What else could it possibly be about?!" you yelled, your voice slicing through the silence of the empty lab. Under different circumstances—if this wasn't about your entire career here—you might have remembered that your outburst could easily carry into the corridor, reaching the ears of other students, and even possibly teachers. But blind frustration consumed you, eclipsed only by the raw, aching sense of betrayal you felt towards him.

“But you’ve been telling me and Viktor for weeks how much you hate it,” Jayce argued, frowning, his lips reducing into a thin line. He was genuinely perplexed, like the very concept that he hadn’t done you a service wasn't registering in his mind. “You’re the one who said you wished you could do more work in the lab with us!”

“So you went over my head and told the fucking head of the department I was too lazy to complete the work he gave me?” you retorted without missing a beat. You hadn't realized how close you had gotten to him, your balled fists barely a foot away from his increasingly punchable face. You could smell the artificial scent of body spray off him, and you wrinkled your nose in disgust. “Do you have any idea how unreliable and ungrateful that makes me look as the new girl?! I haven’t even had this position for six months!”

Understanding slowly dawned across his face, and his expression softened, regret pooling in his chartreuse eyes.

"I was just trying to help, I didn't—" he began, his voice gentle and remorseful, but you weren't even close to being done with him.

“Help?” you spat, the word dripping with venom. “Help how? By making me look like I don’t want to work hard? Like I'm a spoiled brat who goes on dates with her team supervisor to get easy jobs? What, do you think I slept my way up here?”

“I’d never—I thought you felt too shy to talk to Heimerdinger, I just wanted to give you a hand as my junior! How is that a bad thing?!” he protested, frustration creeping into his voice.

“It's a bad thing because it means you don't fucking believe in me!” you shot back.

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, willing them gone and clinging to what little pride you had left.

“It means you think I'm too weak or too stupid to do the same work you and Viktor did when you started. That I'm not even enough of an adult to handle my own shit—that I need some random guy at work to baby me!”

He flinched at the harshness of your words, the hurt on his face unmistakable. His mouth opened as if to speak up again, eyes carrying the wounded look of a kicked puppy, but you didn’t let him, refusing to let his charm ever fool you again.

“I don't care if it's because I'm younger than you, or because I'm a woman, or because you think I'm attractive,” you snapped. “I'm staying on the Wyatt project until it's completed, like I signed up to. I won't let you mess up everything I've worked so hard for.”

You took a step back, your feelings too overwhelming to stand staring at him a minute longer. Your instinct about Jayce—that he was as spoiled as he was self-righteous— had been correct from the start, yet you felt no pride in that knowledge; there was only the bitter taste of disappointment.

Your voice was sharp and unforgiving when you spoke up again:

“Do me a favour. Next time you want to help, don’t.

—

And yet, here you are now, in a shitty motel in the middle of nowhere, butt naked in a cramped shower with him, the feeling of his tepid cum still lingering on your thigh.

Jayce Talis wants to help again, and you’d be an absolute fool to accept, or to give him more ground than you already have.

But things are different, this time.

You want his help. You need his help.

You know better now than to believe he feels anything resembling real affection for you. His obsession isn’t love: it’s a fixation born from entitlement, from the relentless need to possess what he’s been denied. You’re nothing more than a challenge, the one girl who refuses to fall for the Academy’s golden boy, and that only makes him want you more. But once he’s had his victory, once this game is over, the thrill will fade, and he’ll lose all interest in pretending he ever cared.

So what’s the harm in saying yes, then? It’s not like either of you will come out of this with any hurt feelings. It’s the same as back then, with him taking you for the easy fool he can be a knight in shining armour for, solving your issues like the great man he is. But at least, this time, he’s had the decency to ask you, first.

"Fine, whatever," you finally grumble, your gaze snapping back to his. A flicker of something unreadable passes through his expression, but you ignore it. It doesn't matter to you, just as you won’t matter to him. "What’s next, Talis?”

—

The issue is that Jayce really hasn't thought that far ahead.

His first and main goal was to distract you from how he had been so stupidly eager, he came without your hands ever even touching his cock. But now, he needs to come up with a next step—fast—before you see right through his bluff and realize he knows far less about Viktor’s sex life than he has so confidently let on.

To his credit, Viktor has always been intensely private about his personal life, even with his closest friends. In all their years of partnership, he had never once introduced Jayce to a girlfriend or boyfriend; never even hinted at a crush, or a stranger who might be something more. No matter how many times Jayce had prodded and teased him in their younger years, Viktor had never let anything slip.

But there is one thing, a small, passing remark, that Jayce does remember.

Back in their very first year together at the Academy, unravelling the enigma that was Viktor had been one of Jayce’s greatest challenges. The man revealed very little about himself and it seemed like science and logic were the sole foundations of his world, an unwavering structure built on nothing but reason and precision.

But every now and then, Viktor would do or say something so entirely unexpected, it shattered any understanding Jayce thought he had of him.

One of those moments had been Viktor’s quiet but undeniable fascination with the arts.

Jayce remembers a particular night, one that has somehow stayed in the back of his mind since. Sitting beside Viktor in the dim glow of the Academy’s theater, watching a play neither of them had particularly planned to see, he had expected boredom, maybe even a few sarcastic quips. Instead, Viktor had been captivated. His sharp eyes, usually so calculating while they worked in the lab, were alight with something softer, something close to wonder, as if he were seeing an entirely new world unfold before him.

"Do you not think it's nice? The music of someone's voice," Viktor had hummed afterward, his tone distant, contemplative, like he was still half-lost in the echoes of the performance.

Jayce had shrugged, stretching his legs out lazily in the cramped theatre seat. Art had never really been his thing—too abstract, too confusing. "I don’t know," he replied casually, "AI is getting pretty good at mimicking it."

Viktor had turned his head slightly, casting Jayce a look that was equal parts amused and disappointed, as if he couldn’t decide whether the comment was genuinely naive or just tragically shortsighted.

Viktor had merely tutted in disapproval, shaking his head. "The human soul, Jayce. The emotions, the passion, the sorrow—that is what a voice carries. We may build a thousand algorithms that reproduce it, down to the subtlest change in tone or pitch… but it will always be missing that.”

Jayce had gone quiet after that, letting the conversation die in the soft hum of the crowd leaving the theater. He didn’t get it then; maybe he does now.

“Voices,” Jayce blurts out, the thought snapping into place like a last-minute save. “Viktor likes hearing people’s voices. I think it’s because of how personal they are to everyone? Something about that just… makes him happy.”

He’s grasping at straws now, but it’s something, and that’s already better than staying silent with his mouth agape like an idiot.

“Maybe, um—maybe you could practice what you’d say to him? The kind of sounds you’d make?” His pulse stutters, but before he can stop himself. “I-I think he’d probably want to eat you out.”

It’s a blatant, bold-faced lie. A shot in the dark dressed up as certainty.

Because that’s not what Viktor said. That’s not even remotely what Viktor said.

It’s what Jayce wants to do.

But he’s already in too deep, tangled in his own bullshit with no way to back out. If he’s going to lie, he might as well be a little selfish about it.

You glare at him with that sharp, dissecting stare, the kind that strips away pretense and weighs his words like they’re under the lens of a microscope. Even though you’re shorter than him, there’s no mistaking who’s in control here; the balance of power tilts undeniably in your favour, and you have him fully, wholly under your thumb.

And he knows it, knows it from the tension in his own shoulders, from the way his lips uncontrollably twitch, from the slight tremor in his voice. He would do anything for this, for you, and he’s not foolish enough to think it doesn’t show. But this moment isn’t about him—not about how much he wants you, or how much he’d give to close the remaining space between your bodies.

It’s about you, and how much you want Viktor.

Jayce already knows your answer before it even leaves your lips.

“Alright. Just…”

You hesitate for just a second, as if there's something else you want to say; a glimpse of uncharacteristic doubt flashes across your face. But it vanishes just as quickly as it came, swallowed by that effortless, burning confidence. Whatever words you might have had for him go up in smoke.

"Forget it. Get on your knees."

Jayce certainly doesn’t need to be told twice.

It’s almost embarrassing how fast he drops, the wet tile beneath him offering no grace. He nearly slips twice as he contorts his broad frame awkwardly, trying to find a stable position. The cramped width of the glass panels press against his shoulders, making his movements all the more difficult.

You tsk at him, unimpressed and visibly growing impatient. The glare you send down his way is all the incentive he needs to stop fumbling and settle as best he can, even as the mosaic tiles dig uncomfortably into his knees.

One of your hands settles on his head, slightly brushing the damp strands of dark hair, and he leans into the touch; it's probably the closest thing to praise he's ever gotten from you.

"Don’t make me regret this," you warn him.

He grins, throwing you a wink with far more cockiness than he actually feels. "Regret is my middle name, baby."

Before you can shoot back a biting remark, his hands are on your hips, firm and certain, pulling you flush against his face. The heat of his breath ghosts over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

If this had been different, if it had been real, he would have taken his time. He would have traced every detail of your body with his hands, his lips, his tongue, committing every inch to memory like something sacred. He would have worshipped you slowly, methodically, with the kind of reverence you deserve.

But that's not the case.

Instead, he opts for savagely peppering your inner thighs with warm, rough kisses, just barely letting his teeth graze your skin. You hum in approval, the hand on his scalp petting him like a puppy. The rush of confidence that goes through his body is indescribable, and he makes the bites more insistent, leaving burn-like marks on your skin.

You tug at his hair, just enough to be insistent, but not enough to hurt. For once, he understands you immediately, without you uttering a single word. It’s a little strange —almost ironic— that conversations with you always spiral into arguments, yet here, without speaking at all, you're both in perfect sync.

He obeys the silent command and moves his mouth where you’re guiding him, never pausing the messy, open-mouth kisses against your lower body. It's no surprise that your pussy is as pretty and warm as the rest of you. The hair has been recently trimmed but has grown just enough to tickle against his face as he buries his face comfortably between your legs.

You twitch in his grip the second his tongue touches your folds, but you don't let out a sound. He’s not about to be beaten so easily, though: he gives a strong, assured lick against your clit, and this time you can't suppress a small moan:

“Ah…”

Oh, and God, it's an addictive sound, one that he yearns to hear again, immediately. He copies his movement once, twice, thrice, dizzy off the little vulnerable pants you make under your breath. He's like a starved man, lapping at the fresh water from the shower on your skin just to catch a hint of your juices.

“Hngh-” you inhale sharply when his tongue probes your hole. Your grip on his hair tightens, fingers tangling deeper as you pull him closer. It’s probably just instinct, a mechanical reaction to the rush of pleasure sparking through you; but for a split second, the pressure of your touch feels intentional. Like you want him. And that foolish, aching thought makes his poor little heart clench when you speak again:

“V-Viktor!”

A single word from you, just one name, and reality crashes back down on him like a tidal wave.

He freezes, his tongue flat against your clit, and the warmth of the moment vanishes in an instant, replaced by something sharp and unforgiving. The water hitting his exposed skin from the showerhead suddenly feels ice-cold, seeping into his bones.

This isn’t right. He knows it. And he’s certain you do, too.

But you’ve both chosen this.

You’re as guilty as he is, using him just as much as he’s using you. It’s a pathetic, hollow imitation of the intimacy he truly craves, the kind where your fingers intertwine with his without hesitation, where your voice murmurs words of love meant only for him, where your eyes remain wide open and locked into his.

But there’s no coming back from having tasted you. A single bite of the forbidden fruit, and he’s undone: his sense of judgment shattered, his pride discarded, his dignity crumbling beneath your touch. If this is all you’re willing to give him, if he’s nothing more than a placeholder for someone else—so be it.

He’ll take whatever scraps of affection you’ll offer, no matter how empty. No matter who it’s really meant for.

You let out another wonton moan when he shifts again, his teeth lightly scrapping your clit, and he lets himself wonder what you're imagining behind those closed eyes.

Granted, the who isn’t much of a mystery; that part is painfully obvious. But how?

How does it play out in your head? Is it tender and slow, filled with whispered confessions and gentle touches? Or is it something desperate, something raw, something that strips you down to nothing but need? Against his better judgment and all common sense, he can’t help speculating.

Viktor would probably not enjoy staying on his knees for very long; maybe you're picturing yourself laying in bed with him, his face nestled snuggly between the meat of your thighs. You’d have a smile on your lips, your sparkling eyes wide open, eager to take in every second of the moment. Viktor would probably chuckle at your eagerness, amused by the contrast of how firm and unyielding you are with everyone else, yet how effortlessly you melt in his presence.

“Viktor, please… please…!” you almost beg as he fucks you on his tongue, your hips rhythmically moving along to his pace, moans raw and unfiltered, forgetting about the thin walls and your likely disgruntled neighbours with how lost you are in your fantasy.

Jealousy begins to rear its ugly head in the pit of his stomach, a dangerous thing to start feeling during something that’s supposed to be pure make-believe. But no matter how hard he tries to swallow it down, it lingers, festering beneath the surface.

He can’t help it, spoiled brat that he is. He always wants more. Nothing is ever enough.

His childish ego whispers that he’s the one making you squirm under his touch, that for all your longing, for all the thoughts clouding your mind, he’s the one here. He’s the one touching you, drawing those needy sounds from your lips.

It's his name you should be saying.

He's gotten hard again, the touch of your skin blending with the smell of your body, the sharp taste of your wetness making his head spin. He's humping the air like a dog in heat, aching for any sort of relief. He wants to stay between your legs for as long as humanly possible, let you use him, but he's not sure how much longer he can handle hearing someone else’s name over, and over again.

He manages to pull away from the vice-like grip of your thighs, mouth coated with your juices. He looks up at you, standing above him like a goddess, surrounded by a halo of water from the showerhead.

"I really, really need you right now, baby," he breathes out, voice raw with desperation. He knows he should have some dignity left, some shred of self-respect; but it's all long gone. At this point, he doesn't care what you think of him anymore, not when he’s fallen this low. “Can I please fuck you right here?”

Your eyes flutter open, slow and reluctant, like it physically pains you to be pulled from whatever reverie you were lost in. For a moment, you just look at him, considering his expression, the firm grip on his head easing slightly.

“I…” you start hesitantly. There it is again, just like earlier: something uncertain in your gaze, lost, vulnerable. It’s jarring, unsettling in a way he can’t quite name. It doesn’t belong there, not in your eyes—eyes that are usually so bright, so sure and unwavering.

"Bed. Viktor wouldn't be comfortable here," you mumble under your breath, refusing to meet his eyes. "And don’t call me baby."

Jayce exhales a shaky sigh of relief. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t tease—just moves.

He scrambles to his feet so fast he nearly slips again, catching himself just in time. With a sharp nudge of his elbow, he shuts off the faucet before effortlessly scooping you up from the wet tiles. You yelp in protest, but he ignores it, already carrying you out of the bathroom, his grip firm yet careful.

The second your back hits the mattress, he’s gone, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes to his backpack; balance has never been his forte, but you’ve rendered him so unsteady his legs feel like jello. His hands fumble through the numerous pockets, almost frantic.

Socks, phone, extra boxers, sunglasses, toothbrush, toothpaste—

There!

He raises the lone condom triumphantly into the air, presenting it like a grand prize, his grin wide with victory.

You don’t look half as impressed.

"Do you seriously bring that with you everywhere you go?" you remark drily, one brow arching in clear contempt.

Ah, right. For a moment, in the heat of it all, he had almost forgotten that you really hate him.

“Can we keep the insults for after I'm done fucking you?” he groans, his arm falling in defeat. Yet, despite the frustration laced in his voice, there’s something oddly familiar about this, something comforting. The push and pull, the sharp edges of your words clashing against his: it’s a unique rhythm, a dynamic that belongs to the two of you alone; one that Viktor will never experience.

The idea makes him happier than it should.

You let out a dramatic sigh in response, waving a dismissive hand as if to say ‘whatever’.

He climbs over you, his body still sopping wet, water trailing down his skin and seeping into the sheets beneath you both. Droplets fall from his hair onto yours, cool against the lingering heat of your skin. The bed is going to be disgustingly damp later, and you will certainly complain and blame him for it, but he can’t bring himself to care about it right now.

The sight of his fully hard cock resting on your inner thigh makes his throat dry almost instantly. Jayce is more than aware he’s well endowed, and he hasn’t shied away from using it as a selling argument for flirting before; but this is so very different. His size dwarfs your cunt, like a little toy underneath him; the realization that he's going to get so deep inside of you that you'll never be able to fully get rid of him is enough to break whatever hesitation he might have still had.

He glances up at you with a cocky grin, expecting you to eye his arguably imposing member with some anticipation, only to find that you're looking away, gaze lost somewhere in the printed forest of the peeling wallpaper.

He clears his throat, and you turn back towards him, expression distant, maybe even cold.

“Want me to, um… prep you a bit?” he asks. He knows you’re soaking wet, he's made quite sure of that, but the thickness of his cock has usually required him to use a few fingers with his previous partners.

You seem disinterested, barely sparing him a look:

“I don't care. Just do it, Talis.”

The absurdity of the fact that you’re still using his last name after he’s eaten you out—and right before he screws you—would be comical if it wasn’t so deeply sad. He tears the plastic wrapper open, rolling the condom on himself without another word. He aligns his member with your entrance, just barely spreading your folds with his dick, before you interrupt him with a firm hand on his bicep.

The look you give him is full of something unspoken, heavy with meaning he can’t quite grasp—or maybe just refuses to.

"Just… be gentle,” you ask stiffly, like you doubt he’s even capable of it. “Like Viktor would."

That last part splinters something inside him, shatters a piece of his heart he thought had accepted he would never be the one you’d want.

For a second, everything blurs. The floodgate cracks open, and with it, the jealousy he thought he had under control surges forward, unrestrained and bitter.

Because Viktor. Always Viktor.

And never him.

He pushes in without replying, groaning at the resistance his tip is already facing. It takes a bit more force, but the head of his cock finally passes through the ring of muscle, and he's able to slowly and fully sheathe himself in, your wetness making the slide easier.

“Fuck- fuck, you're tight,” he sputters, the words falling out of him without his control. “You're so fucking tight, princess.”

Maybe it’s just that he hasn’t gotten laid in too long, but he doesn’t think he's ever been inside someone who feels this snug around him, like you were made for him. You’re walls are fluttering around him, squeezing him so firmly it’s as if your pussy is forbidding him from leaving. It's heavenly, and he stays still for a moment, just to carve in his memory the exact way you’re clenching around his cock.

A quick glance at your face tells him everything he needs to know: your eyes are squeezed shut, your brows furrowed deeply, likely lost in a world where he isn’t the one above you. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’re picturing him instead, rewriting reality with Viktor’s touch, Viktor’s voice, Viktor’s presence.

That’s fine. Perfectly fine.

Because by the time he’s done, by the time he gives it to you just right—hard enough, deep enough, good enough—he’ll make sure the only name you’re screaming is Jayce.

He starts pulling out before sharply shoving himself back in, and you let out an absolutely broken cry. There. As a sound that's for no one else but him.

He repeats the motion, again and again, the sharp feeling of your nails digging into his back making all thought incoherent. Your cries are driving him insane, raw and oversensitive, and he pounds into you harder with the knowledge Jayce Talis is the one tearing them out from your throat.

He looks down where your bodies meet, drunk off the idea of seeing his fat cock plunging into you, but he freezes.

There's blood.

It's not much, just a little red that has tinted some of your combined juices, but it's there, a stark contrast against your skin.

He opens and closes his mouth in incomprehension; he had been harsh, and hungry, yes, but you should have been wet enough to take him with only a slight burn, a nice feeling of fullness. How?

He looks at you in panic: your eyes are still sealed shut, but unshed tears have pooled in their corners, your lips stuck in a thin line.

You’re crying.

It’s so silent, so light, that he hadn't even heard it despite your proximity, despite him being quite literally inside of you. He’s staring at you, dumbfounded—the tightness, the blood, the tears—as the math begins to add up very unpleasantly in his head.

"Wait, are you—" he starts, voice laced with panicked disbelief.

You don’t answer.

Instead, you turn your face away, hiding it behind the crook of your arm, ever the prideful one. But he sees it anyway, the telltale tremble of your bottom lip.

And just like that, every ounce of his frustration, every drop of jealousy, vanishes in an instant. What’s left is something colder, heavier—realization.

You're a virgin.

His stomach twists. "I'm sorry, I—I had no idea—" he stammers, his mind racing to catch up. "Did I hurt you? Oh my god, yeah, I did. Do you want to stop? I’m so sorry—"

The words tumble out in a frantic rush, hands hovering over you like he doesn’t know where they should be—whether to comfort, to retreat, or to hold you close.

He moves to pull out, but you make a pained hissing sound, grabbing his arm to keep him in place.

You stay silent, breathing haggard, clinging to him like a buoy in a storm. Your fingers dig into his skin painfully, but you still refuse to meet his gaze.

Jayce swallows thickly, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Carefully, he slides a hand beneath your head, lifting it just enough to keep you from sinking further into yourself. With the other, he brushes away a few damp strands of hair stuck to your clammy forehead. You don’t speak, and neither does he.

There’s nothing he can say right now that wouldn’t feel meaningless.

Your eyes eventually open, and the few tears you had been holding back finally spill down your cheeks. He catches them with the pad of his finger, wiping them away as gently as he can.

You’re so still in his arms it scares him. Fragile in a way he’s never seen before. Like a doll he’s played too rough with, beautiful, limp, and oh so breakable. Not meant for the big, clumsy, uncalculated hands of someone like him, but rather, for a gentle and precise touch.

Meant for hands like Viktor’s.

The thought cuts deep, a jagged wound of self-loathing splitting open inside him. Jayce has never hated himself more than in this moment.

"I'm fine," you murmur at last, your voice steadier than he expected. "It’s not like I haven’t done anything before, I'm not a prude, just… not this."

You pause, exhaling slowly before finally admitting the words you’ve been trying to say all along. "I know it’s stupid, but I don’t want to look like a clueless idiot if Viktor ever… wants me."

Jayce’s chest aches at how small your voice sounds, at the quiet vulnerability you’re letting slip through the cracks after being so closed off to him for almost three years.

Why do you always say you’re fine when you aren’t? Why won’t you ever let me help? Why can’t you admit you’re scared?

"Viktor would never think you're an idiot," he breathes. "He’d think you’re the smartest girl in the entire world."

You hesitate: “…Yeah?”

"Yeah," he confirms without missing a beat. Then, with a faint smile, he can’t help but add, teasing, "Maybe just a little too thick-headed for your own good."

A weak but genuine laugh escapes your lips, lightening the weight between you, the tension slowly washing away, the tide receding just enough to let you both breathe.

"Big words from someone who compliments himself in the mirror, Jayce," you shoot back with a smirk, eyes glinting with a flicker of mischief. “And it’s not like you’re that big, anyway.”

He huffs out a laugh in disbelief: “Are you seriously pulling that card right now?”

You snort in reply, unable to hold your smile back.

It’s all so absurd, so fucked, tangled in emotions he doesn’t fully understand. But here you are, smiling at him—teasing, but genuine. A fragile thread of connection woven between sarcasm and chaos.

And then it hits him.

You’ve finally said his name.

Not in anger. Not in passing. Not as part of some joke.

Just his name, wrapped in laughter, soft around the edges.

It’s not exactly in the way he’s craved, not in the way that would make this his; but still, his name has left your lips with a real smile, with your eyes looking at nothing but him. Despite everything, it settles something deep inside him, filling the hollow space that’s been eating him alive.

It makes him feel whole.

"I’ll be fine," you tell him again, voice back to the one he knows and adores. "Just… a little slower, alright?"

Jayce exhales, nodding, his grip on you instinctively firming— not possessive, not demanding. Just there. An anchor for you, as much as it is for himself. He’s going to make sure you’re actually fine for once.

“Yeah. Of course,” he promises, but more than that, it carries the weight of a vow, something unspoken yet deeply solemn, something true.

If he’s water, then you are fire, never defeated, blazing brightly with something that could consume him whole. Maybe that’s why he lets himself drown in you—because it’s the only way he can hold onto something that he was never meant to touch.

You will always burn him, and he will always yield to the sound of his name on your lips.

🌸 Taglist Darlings 🌸: @soniiyi , @mischievous-piltovan, , @luv-urself-first, @girlidkthinkofsmth , @starflesh-moth , @raynoway , @just1cefor4ll , @apexie100

Tip a Coffee ☕: ko-fi.com/lefruitdelapassion

[verlaineszz]

ᯓ★ CEMETERY LADY! MY CEMETERY GIRL! ~

( ၴႅၴ+ —YANDERE!NIKOLAI GOGOL! x YANDERE!ZOMBIE!FEM!READER!

SUMMARY: Your name.. Written in beautiful dark crimson red ink, a psychopathic clown has taken a liking to a lady. A lady that he found so utterly beautiful, a beauty of imperfections that nikolai found oh so perfect. But a tragedy has struck him, before he could continue his obsessive motivs and plans, bang! You were dead, but that didn't stop you from laying on your casket. you had unfinished buisness, which is your undying love and obsession that made you crawl out of limbo and find your beloved once again.

ᯓ ⁺₊ ♱ .ᐟ— DEAD DOVE+ ROMANCE + YANDEREAU! + SUGGESTIVE! + SMUT! (seperate maybe, i might make it but it will be linked in between the scene when its starts, you may find it at @heartz4verlaineszz, my freak acc)

MDNI!!

A/N: mutual yandere btw! Nikolai was already obsessively inlove with reader when reader was still alive and this works to reader too, reader has always been obsessively inlove with him too, also possessive reader and nikolai :P and this fic is shorter than my other fics

(art by CREATNZY)

๋࣭ ⭑♡WARNINGS! : suggestive, blood, yandere themes, swearing, obsessive themes, collecting of each others belongings, initial skin ingraving, pet names (Moya Lyubov (my love), Moya pitchka(my little bird), milaya (sweetheart))

Ah, love. Something foreign to nikolai, not until he laid his eyes on you. What a beautiful lady! Your imperfections had him infatuated with you, to your personality and to your hyperfixations, how cute.

Everything was going so well for nikolai, he stalked all your posts. Checked up on your phone history by hacking into it when you had your screen protector replaced for being too clumsy and dropping it.. He also went as far on stealing your clothing and buying the same perfume that you wear.. It was eating his heart away, the thought of feeling you near him made him just wanna squeel and giggle uncontrollably. Not until he heard you got into an accident and died.. He misses you so baddddddd!

Your funeral was being held soon, he sighs and lays on his bed with his hand on his forehead, not really having motivation to do anything. What shall he do now? He doesn't have a purpose anymore really.. To be frank, his life objective was to be with you. With you gone.. He thought that if you're gone now, might as well meet you in the afterlife as well.. But, not yet. He has to feel you at least once, even if you're already dead. He sits up with his back slouched, lookin around his room, fully decorated with candid pictures of you and a big shelf with your belongings, to your used plastic water bottles, lock of hair displayed in a gold picture frame with red wallpaper, your bras, shirts, makeup, jewelry.. Anything that you've touched really.. He smirks after seeing your stuff, he stands up and grabs your shirt and bra before stuffing his face in em, laying back down on his bed and sniffing your faint scent, "mmm", he mewled out before sighing and sliding your shirt and bra off his face.. His expression bored and numb, he missed you so much, he would be lying if he said he wasn't devastated. He hasn't eaten all day since normally he'd be stalking you at this hour.

He eventually sits up after hours of whining and smothering your used shirt and bras with his face. He thought at first that now your dead, he'd finally be free.. Oh but he was so wrong! The thought of not watching you and never being yours pained him. More than the thought of him never being free. It made him wanna dig his nails into his skin and scratch the meat off his bones off!

The grandfather clock on the wall ticking made him feel more restless, he slides his shoes on before leaving his place. The walk to the place where your casket is was no biggie, he kept his expression was bored and a void as he walked, different than his usual excited and smiley expression. As he reached your funeral, he stays behind the trees for a while, alot of your family members and friends were still crying and wheeping as they surrounded your casket, your burial was just a few days away, he still has time to make you his cemetery baby.

A few hours later, nightfall came, your family members and friends have finally came home! Leaving your body and him outside. He smirks as he stood up from his hiding spot and walked over to your gorgeous fuckin body that was laying peaceful in the casket. He lets out a few giggles, his eyes filled with excitement, his fingers twitched to touch you, he sees your pretty face taking it into his hands and caressing your cheek before leaning your head back, noticing how they didn't even try to put on the correct makeup style you liked. He quickly applied some lippie that he stole from you a few weeks ago, changing your lipstick before quickly kissing you hard. Chuckling into the kiss softly before setting your head down gently, your body was a little rusty so he had to be extra careful with his beloved.

"Ah.. There you go, you look more you now.. How stupid of those people to not know what your lip color preferences are." he talks to himself while staring down at your face,mocking the way your own family didn't even put on the correct lippie on, slowly lacing his hand to hold yours. Your hand cold as ever, he smiles to himself, kissing your knuckles.. Noticing how cold your hand was compared to his warm large ones. "hm.. Its okay, I'll warm you up!" he whispers and giggles, his eyes half lidded but filled with hunger.

He kisses your knuckles slowly before sliding in a ring to your ring finger. A beautiful red ruby gem, a red that was red to be the same shade of your own blood. He smiles sweetly at your calm face, the smile radiating a sense of insanity and obsession to it while he caresses your hair and cheek sweetly, "Moya ptichka.." he whispers sweetly as he gives your hand another kiss with his eyes staring at your eye shut face, "This isn't goodbye, I'll see you once again, milaya."

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

At your perspective, your soul was still stuck at limbo, unaware that nikolai was already giving you what you craved for. Limbo was tough. Fog and mindless spirits everywhere, it made you irritated at how lost you were, but of course nothing was ever gonna stop you from digging out of your grave and watch him again.

Now.. Back to nikolai. It was already the next day, he only came to visit your body at night. Where nobody was around. It was the last day of your body staying on land before you get buried 6 feet below. He brought a few things with him, a dagger, a locket filled with his and your hair and some other questionable trinkets.

The foggy and dark night could be frightening for some, especially at the cemetery. But not for him, he brought a lantern to see your face just in case! As he ran over to your casket with an undying hungry smile, he jumps in joy in seeing you up close again. "Moya Lyubov!" he takes your hand gently, it was his last day on meeting your body physically. He snaked his hands to your hand, kissing your knuckles once again before tying a red ribbon around your wrist to mark you.

His gaze was pressuring against your unconscious body, the fog and darkness surrounding you and him was unbearable, the only light source around was his lantern that he brought that illuminated his hungry gaze and your gorgeous face.

A tune in his head played, an urge to hold you close and waltz in eloquence to prove how much he adored you. Though your skin was rotting piece by piece, your cheek stayed fresh as ever, he caressed your cheek in obsession, "still forever soft for me."

The fog and darkness really gave nikolai an advantage of not being seen, one of his hands slowly snaked down to your thigh, pushing your dress up and squeezing it with hunger, "The world has been so cruel to you, milaya." he whispered, talking to himself while you struggled in limbo to leave and see him even while you were dead. "But.. Even in death, you belong to me." he smirks, a smirk that could've haunted lots of individuals but it was also a smirk that was meant for you. For you to remember and burn into memory.

A few hours has already passed, with him just sitting on the edge of your casket and holding you gently while talking to himself all obsessed like he was talking to you. "Even if death make us part, you'll forever still be mine."

He caressed your cheek, holding you gently to avoid hurting your dead body, "Remember when you first started wearing that lipgloss and that perfume? Oh you are a gorgeous little thing. I couldn't stop staring! You were perfect just like how perfect you are right now." he talks to himself again, giggling and remembering how you smiled when you found something funny, another reason why he wanted to have you as his dear lady. Your looks just add to your eccentric and unique dear personality you know?

With the last few hours of the night fell down so the sun could rise, he held your thigh tightly, "Moya Lyubov, im sure you wouldn't mind having a symbol of me with you forever right?" he giggled, slipping a dagger in his hand, "This might hurt.. Apologies in advance." he whispers near your ear before slowly but surely engraving his initials on your upper thigh, gently wiping the blood of, whispering apologies and cooing, obviously you felt nothing since your soul was still at limbo. "Mm..you're so pretty. I'm sorry it hurts milaya." he coos at you, caressing your cheek and giving your thigh a quick kiss before covering you up again with your dress.

he quickly leaves the dagger under the pillow that was cushioned below your head, a symbol of him giving his dagger to you. he slowly slid the locket with his hair and your hair around your neck. As the daylight rose up, he kisses your forehead before slipping off after hearing your family members talking and their heavy footsteps.

He slips off to the nearby forest, waiting for your burial. Time passed as he got in disguised to look more like your..friends. Your casket was about to be buried. affirmations filled his head,

"I love you, I love you,I love you,I love you,I love you,I love you, I love you,I love you,I love you,I love you,I love you, I love you,I love you,I love you,I love you,"

he repeats in his head like a mantra, he takes a step near your casket, dressed in black suit,white jabot with a red ruby brooch and his hair all inside in his black top hat to conceal his long braided hair. Everyone stared at him, assuming he was one of your close friends since he held a dark red rose. Your casket slowly lowered down into the 6 feet deep hole, he throws the rose to your closed casket, "Death will not end us or stop me. We will be reunited milaya,"

At your point of view now, you successfully escaped limbo. The limbo that had a blueish tint, fog, mindless spirits that has been driven into insanity from how long they have stayed in limbo, and the murky floors that made you feel all icky at the sensation of sludge. In an attempt to leave this foggy void your will and unfinished business on earth gave you the strength to escape and return back from the dead.

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

A few days has passed, a rotting feeling ate nikolai alive, oh god he needed to see you. His heart was beating so fast, only thinking about you whenever he gazed at the grass or that photo of you sleeping in your room. A photo that he adored so dearly. He thought he'd go off fine and be free but this thought of having your body with him eternally wouldn't seem like such a bad idea..that's why he packed a shovel. 2:55 AM, he snuck off, running to the cemetery on where you were buried. He slowly stood on top of your grave, extending his arm to get something from his cloak. He tapped his foot as he grabbed around before grabbing out the shovel and a lantern. He sets the lantern down and began to dig rapidly.

Pants and huffs and the sound of soil thudding could be heard, he digged and digged before hitting a "clink!", your casket, the sound of his metal shovel and your casket clanging, he smirks, sweat beading off his forehead, he sighs and let's the shovel go, letting his ability to push you into the land above. "We'll be together again Moya pitchka!" he laughs, Panting with a love dazed expression.

He sticked his tongue out in concentration as he pushed your casket into the portal, as he successfully got you on land, he wasted no time to open your casket, only to find that your body was gone.

Nikolais eyes widened, what happened to his lady!? Even the dagger he hid under your pillow was gone! He places his hand under his chin, thinking on who could've kidnapped your body. Nobody was around your grave for the past few days, who could've done it?

⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻ 𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺

Back at nikolais house, you were running into the woods, his dagger in your hand and your dress dirty from the soil that you climb out of, a few stumbles and runs you reached his place. With a quick climb of a window and expecting to see him, you found the house to be empty. You scratch your head and sigh in dissapointment, quickly moving back to ur apartment to change and quickly sneak back in to his room, so far so good. Nothing has changed. It was weird how you have never seen him sleep on his own bed. You look around, looking at his weird trinkets before reaching his closet, opening it and collecting some of his clothing before tripping on one of the gloves that fell to the floor, "oh-!" you land with your face against the wall of the closet before hearing the sound it made. It sounded like..it was hollow inside. You quickly stand up and dusted yourself, with a knock to test it to its fullest, you find a socket. You put your fingers in the rectangular socket, pushing it to the side to reveal a staircase, you smile proudly after seeing this, has your dear nikolai have been hiding a secret room? Perhaps it was a room full of more of his stuff. You waltz down the stairs, singing a soft tune, your voice having a hint of curiosity as you mutter to yourself, "Now now, i wonder what this room could b-! Oh."

You expected the room to be filled with more of his stuff, either it be more of his hats, clown makeup, guns, and other trinkets you can "borrow", you find yourself staring at the things that You own. The walls a dark crimson red and rosewood floors, and tons of big wooden shelves against the walls, all containing each of your missing things. Your lacy bras, Your used lipsticks , your panties, shirts, gloves you worn, used pillow cases, your pens, the old phone you had. You get the point. The walls were adorned of hundreds of candid photographs of you, one of the bigger picture was in gold frame. a picture of you sleeping and Nikolai in the corner as if he took a selfie and printed the picture out to have it all framed and pretty..Then you realized,the bedroom that you've been stalking and watching was just a decoy.. A decoy to hide his undying obsession of you.

you looked around the shelves and seeing the tons of bottles of your favorite perfume distracted from the feeling of your beloved nikolai having an infatuation of you,large hands began to wrap around your waist "Oh.. There you are milaya." he whispers into your ear,pressing your back against his chest,a haunting sweet smile spread across his lips as he leaned closer to you snaking his free hand to grab your hand "You're not supposed to be here you know?.." he pouted sarcastically before laughing "Moya pitchka don't run away from me..You can see how much I adore you." he whispered, his voice cooing and desperate while he was caressing his hand to your waist then down to your hips..your breath hitches as you feel his touch. Your gaze brightens up, letting him touch you freely, "Oh.. Hello my dear kolya." you gently taking his hand.

he grabbed your hand back swiftly,he quickly spins you around,your back hitting the wall and his knee in between your thighs..He had a hand on your hips tightly.. tight enough to leave a bruise on your skin You gasp at the impact huffing from the tension you've been caught. But you just can't help but enjoy this moment.. he had a hand on your hip and his other hand on your thigh,gripping it tightly and huffing, "I missed you so damn fucking much.." he kissed your neck, huffing and holding you tightly as if you would dissappear if he loosened his grip. "You wouldn't understand how much i love you, it hurts milaya." he whispers into your ear in between his soft neck and collarbones kisses, his kisses always changing into soft and gentle to rough and desperate.

You look down, not resisting but rather wrapping your arms around his neck, the dagger he left you in one of your hands, the blade was near his pulse, close enough to end his life before you sweetly say, "But i do understand. I missed you too." with those 4 words falling from your lips,his eyes widened. You weren't frightened or screaming like he thought you would, his wide eyes changed into a smile, a cheeky hungry smile. Perhaps this was a new reason on why he adores you damn fucking much.

He quickly pressed his lips against yours roughly, gripping onto your thigh and waist tightly, "Oh, baby, You dont know much i need you." he says in between kisses, slowly sliding his large hand around your inner thigh, lifting your thigh up, his other hand on your waist to support you standing. His voice turned into breathey, his voice evident with need and desperation, his grip on your thigh tightening, as if you were gonna disappear again if he loosend his grip, "Please.. Please, milaya, let me show you how much i adore you." he panted out in between kisses desperately, you huff and you gripped on to his shoulders, the dagger near his neck falling onto the ground, clinging and thudding from the fall. He leaned closee to your ear, whispering sweetly, his voice sweet as honeydew but breathey and desperate too. "See? I told you death wouldn't keep us apart.. Now.. Let me show you what dreams are made of."

A/N: lol idk if i should write the smut part, just comment if you want it, also.. When i was first and originally writing this I ACCIDENTALLY DIDN'T SAVE THE DRAFT SO I HAD TO REWRITE IT ALL AGAIN.. ACCORDING TO MY MEMORY.. GRRRRR.... but anyway, enjoy!

[justevelynnnn]

What the boys got you for christmas 😍🎄‼️

Notes: Just a little something for christmas 😭👍🏾 i haven’t written anything else lately cause of work but that armin angst is still coming! But yeah, still merry Christmas!

Context: The following aot boys x black!fem reader. (not proofread😭)

Warnings: fluff aside from couple of cuss words and mention of getting high on plug!connie’s part

Characters: Armin, Eren, Connie, Jean and Reiner Bonus!: Nerd Armin and Plug!Connie

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Armin:

- Armin is so sweet.. From the moment u met him u knew he was a soft bookworm with a kind heart. He asked you to be his on valentine’s day by writing a letter confessing his feelings.

- You were happy to be his fr and you were really excited when y’all’s first christmas together came around.

- You got him this limited edition old dictionary, one of those fake aquariums from the 2000s, a fancy microscope and the entirety of his favorite book series.

- However when Christmas came and it was his turn you couldn’t have been more surprised.

- He got you multiple cute chanel coats and purses, a box of your favorite chocolate, a box of miss dior and an entire macbook😭😭😭

- “ARMIN?!?” You exclaim. “Since when ever was you rich????!?”

- And the boy just smiled at you and said he saved a bunch of money from his job but you didn’t really believe it.

- He also spent the whole day watching christmas movies and taking taking cute pictures together with you😚❤️❤️

Eren:

- You and Eren got officially together on Halloween after a party so you guys were still kinda new and tryna feel each other out.

- You knew he liked working out so you just got him some gray sweatpants, some protein crap and one of those flannel hoodies.

- This boy ended up getting you some uggs and one of those “The tote bag” bags and a bunch of bath and body work stuff

- He even got all your favorite scents, aw❤️

- Eren acted like he didn’t always listen or pay attention but he clearly was the whole time and it made your heart melt🥹

- Eren didn’t wanna do the sappy shit he did but he sure wasn’t gonna show it right now so he just hopped on the game and you happily watched for the rest of the day.

Connie:

- Connie and you spent yall first christmas together as not really a couple but that weird talking stage thing. You still counted tho cause you might as well be his gf🤷🏾‍♀️

- Connie was a goof ball fr so you didn’t really know what to get him. When it came down to the serious emotional stuff y’all just joked yall way out of it and so it was this weird limbo ish going on

- You settled on a nike jacket and a gift card to his favorite restaurant. You felt so bad cause it seemed like bare minimum but Connie was excited regardless!

- He said it’s the “thought that counts🥰😊” and all you could say after a few seconds was “Moral of the story headass..” and yall just busted out laughing

- Connie ended up getting you the brown faux jacket you saw and wanted from burlington, some pearl earrings and a necklace and a visa gift card with-

- “How much money is on here Con?”

- “$500.😗”

- WHAT?!!!2!@/

- You were expecting $50 or even $100 but $500? Half a band?

- “Yeah i didn’t know what to get u so…😗have fun!”

- You hugged him so hard and accidentally said he was the best boyfriend ever but when you pulled away to quickly apologize he just shushed you and said, “Anything for my beautiful girlfriend😌..”

Jean:

- You and jean got together in the summer after school let out. Jean didn’t talk much like Eren but he was a goof ball like Connie especially when he was around him.

- You didn’t have much to work with embarrassingly. It was gonna be y’all’s 6 month anniversary on christmas but you barely knew a thing about him!!

- You ended up getting him some polo club cologne, airpods and a plain black hoodie.

- When Christmas came around you received some jewelry, some of the makeup you use and a cute brown fluffy teddy bear 🧸❤️

- Y’all had a very chill christmas, Jean wanted to go for a walk so you went with naturally and y’all ended up witnessing a beautiful sunset❤️

Reiner:

- You and Reiner got together in spring. He asked you out by bringing you a bunch of flowers in a bouquet which was definitely on theme for spring time..

- Reiner also stayed to himself a little bit more but he was more open with you so you had a good idea of what he liked.

- You got you and him some matching pjs to wear for the holiday. You got him a couple of books since sometimes he would read, a fancy shaving kit, a couple of turtlenecks and a photo album of you guys first year together❤️

- You were really proud and happy of your gifts but then you saw he didn’t get you anything other than a bunch of replacements for the hair products you use.

- “Hold on i think i put your other gift over here….close your eyes real quick..”

- You sighed and closed your eyes. You prayed he wasn’t gonna put anything together out of nowhere. You were kinda disappointed but it was ok.

- You heard shuffling and then you could tell when he was right in front of you.

- “Ok, open.”

- When you opened your eyes yoy immediately took everything back.. what you saw was a kneeling reiner on one knee holding a gorgeous diamond ring 💍😍

- For christmas he gave you a proposal!!!

- Even though it was kinda early, to be honest you two were talking for a lil minute anyways so it still felt like proper timing.

- You guys planned your wedding for christmas eve as spent the rest of that day cuddling with him watching Christmas themed sit-comes

Bonus:

Nerd!Armin:

- You knew Nerd!Armin since you two were kids and over time feelings developed.. then it naturally blossomed into a relationship. It was kinda weird because as you two grew up you guys just slowly became girlfriend and boyfriend.

- Nerd!Armin had always been a bit brainy and a major science fan so it wasn’t hard to get him anything at all.

- You got him a brand new pc, plentyyyy of books especially the sci-fi types and some weird graphic tees.

- He smiled with his braces and handed you a louis vuitton purse that had some louis vuitton jewelry and perfume inside. Also a soft blanket with your favorite design/character on it, Dior makeup items and chocolates.

- “Where did you get the money to buy this? Cause all i see you do is watch youtube and science shit-“ You questioned in surprise.

- “Stocks..”

- You just shrugged cause you had no idea on what he was talking about but you were just happy this silly brainiac was yours for the holiday 🫶🏾

Plug!Connie:

- You and Connie started off as any other plug and customer. But then Connie started to catch feelings and by like August of this year he asked you to be his.

- He was very protective of you so by the time the holidays came around no one knew you two were a couple.

- He would always spoil you too with shopping sprees and paying for you to get your hair and nails did 💅🏾

- It was hard to think of what he’d want cause he could literally buy anything he wanted plus he didn’t really talk about himself much

- You settled on a couple of hoodies, one of those vape shark jackets and a game for his ps5.

- He ended up getting you a whole ass black Audi r8.

- Your jaw was on the floor 💀

- “Con, what the hellll..”

- “What? Y’don like it?”

- “I do but literally how??”

- “Ion know😗.”

- “Boy-“

- Connie never told you how he did it but he had proof it wasn’t stolen at least so 🙄

- He also got you a giant teddy bear and a new iphone.

- You kinda felt like your gifts were not the best compared to his but he assured you it was fine and he was grateful to have you regardless. ❤️

- You two ended up spending the rest of the day getting high and watching weird christmas movies no one talks about .

[invinciblerodent]

this scene is also pretty much fucking evil if we consider that not only is Iona an emotional mess right now (with a whole bunch of unsolved relationship-y issues as well as uuuuh general Problems(tm)), but that in this version he is also wearing the face of a man she was with for like. literally half her life. Shared his home, his bed, and yeah, it wasn't a great, or even a good relationship, but it's still a point of familiarity. She still can't stop herself from craving his warmth and approval. It's very disorganized as he was both a source of fear and a source of comfort, but she can't help it- she's attached.

Logically, she doesn't trust a word he says, but she still can't stop feeling close to a version of Herric who's kind to her. She still can't see through his manipulation. How could she, she's way too emotionally involved: he makes a sad face, and her very body betrays her, moves in to hold him.

gah, this reveal is going to hurt a lot.

(do I seriously have to fkin do the whole orthon thing in order to get my girl out of this emotional limbo jfc 🥹)

got to the Shadow-Cursed Lands. The boy is sitting pretty at 83 approval. The saves before the last six long rests are called, in this order, "IT'S HAPPENING (i think)", "okay maybe now", "fuck maybe now", "okay that was wyll but fine", "maybe this time he'll do it", and "i fucking give up".

all of them had a rest cutscene, but none the one I was gunning for.

and then I googled what was going on, and apparently in my eagerness I bloody well forgot that I gotta actually go to Moonrise first.

head in my hands I just want these idiots to love each other

[latoyalestrange]

dessert fairy

s. sallow x f!reader

lil drabble inspired by talkiing with @ask-sebastian. ps i'm literally falling in love with this rp acct. he's too smooth i swear.

summary: in which sirona takes things into her own hands when she's tired of watching you and sebastian dance around your feelings for one another.

words: 1kish

warnings: 7th year mc and seb, pining, awkwardness, fluff, not edited! literally the tiniest bit of angst/ hurt and comfort. mention of professor fig :(

every year on the day the hogwarts students returned, hogsmeade held a little fair with music, various pop-up shops, and of course dancing in the square to celebrate. it went without saying that you and sebastian would be attending together as you had the previous year. you weren't sure if it was a good sign or not.

see, you and sebastian were stuck in a waiting game. he would walk you to your classes, insistent on holding your books, offer his scarf when you were cold, let you copy his homework, and would stand up for you anytime students teased you. but that's what any good friend would do, right? you were both painfully oblivious to the other's advances, and therefore you stayed in a limbo of casual flirting that never led to anything.

you pondered this as you stood in the courtyard facing the hamlet, your back to the entrance of the school. you were waiting for him to join you after dinner to head to hogsmeade for a night filled with fun. well, as much fun as you could possibly have with the person you're not-so-secretly pining after. you fidgeted with your hands, looking down at them awkwardly. you were unaware of the slytherin boy as he snuck up behind you, taking silent steps as he approached. his hands pinching your sides shook you out of your trance and you instinctively gasped, ready to scream and run from whatever spooked you.

"sebastian!" you exclaimed, rolling your eyes and clutching your chest as you saw him. he chuckled, letting his hands ghost over your hips as he stood in front of you.

"sorry, it was too perfect of an opportunity to pass up." once you caught you breath, you found yourself blushing as you looked up at his tall form that practically towered over you now after his most recent growth spurt. his cinnamon eyes were still as rich and romantic as ever. "shall we?" you glanced down to see his arm that he held out for you to link with.

"i don't think i want to go with you now, sallow," you teased. he saw right through it.

"yes, you do. come on." he nudged you with his elbow. you sighed, finally snaking your arm around his muscular one as he began leading you to hogsmeade. as well as he could read you, you'd think he'd know how you truly felt about him. but unfortunately for the both of you, sebastian wasn't really as confident as he seemed. he was secure in his dueling abilities and being an incredible student, but when it came to you? he was just as in the dark as you were. you would get bake him his favorite sweets, choose him as your dueling partner every time without fail, and would consistently be there for him when he was missing his sister, letting him hold you tightly as you patted his fluffy brown curls. but that's just what any good friend would do, right?

as you approached the hamlet, you took in the sight of the extra twinkling lights they had put up and the adorable little shops that lined the square. one for handcrafted jewelry, one for a beautiful collection of paintings done by local artists, and a few booths selling various muggle objects. the regular musician that played in the square was also there, and with a few extra instruments that he harmonized perfectly together. it was busier than normal, but that was expected. people from hamlets all around the highlands traveled to see the festivals all year in hogsmeade. unbeknownst to you, while you were digesting your surroundings, sebastian stared down at you adoringly, savoring you adorable expression. he could feel his heart pang in his chest. merlin, how he wished he could confess everything to you in that moment.

"what first?" realizing you probably caught him staring, he blinked away his heart-eyes to respond.

"drinks, obviously," he joked, earning a giggle from you. he began leading you to the three broomsticks, which was only a few paces from the square. once you entered, it was the same as the outside, bustling with patrons chatting loudly.

"agreed. i need a few before i can socialize." he quirked his brown in your direction.

"you're socializing now, aren't you?" he asked in a teasing tone. you shook your head as you reached the only free table in the corner of the first floor. he pulled your chair out for you, pushing you under the table after you sat.

"no, you're different. i don't need alcohol to tolerate you."

he winced playfully, "ouch, tolerate?" you waved his fake pained expression away with your hand.

"oh, you know what i mean. of course i more than tolerate you." redness crept up your neck as you said it, feeling embarrassed by the slightest hint of boldness in your words and his gentlemanly gestures. he brushed it off, chuckling.

"i'll go get us a round, yeah? stay put." you nodded and watched him turn away. you let your head fall to the table with a thud once he couldn't see. how could he not see what he was doing to you? you quickly put yourself back together before he returned, full mugs of butter bear in hand. he placed them on the table in front of you and finally took his place opposite to you. you suddenly noticed the brilliant golden hues that cast across the room from the candle chandeliers. he looked angelic in the light, you could've sworn he was glowing.

"so, seventh year, hm?" he settled in the plush seat beneath him, or was he shifting nervously? you couldn't tell. "what are your plans after you absolutely ace the n.e.w.t.s?" he smiled cheekily as he brought the frosted mug up to his plush lips. you watched as you pondered your answer, eyeing the foam mustache that he skillfully wiped away with his tongue.

"uh-- i'm not entirely for sure yet. everything is still so new." he nodded understandingly, allowing you to continue. "professor weasley actually mentioned to me that they're still looking for a permanent replacement for professor fig." you tried to seem excited about it, but your eyes instantly fell to your fidgeting hands that rested on the table at the mention of your late mentor. "she said, um...that i might be a good fit, if things go well." his brow furrowed, his heart aching for you as he watched the excitement leave your face.

"you don't seem excited by the idea." he looked down at your hands and took one in his own, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb. you shook your head glumly, unable to meet his gaze. "can i ask why?"

"it's just...there are so many other wizards and witches that are perfectly capable--" you stopped, forcing yourself to breathe before you started crying in public. he only squeezed your hand. "there are so many other capable people that aren't responsible for his death."

he shook his head immediately at the prospect. "what happened was in no way your fault, y/n. i didn't know him as well as you did, but what i do know is that him and every professor chose to fight alongside you that day. as far as i'm concerned, they were all lucky to have you there. imagine if you weren't and they had to fight ranrock without anyone with your ability?" you sighed, contemplating his words.

a smile slowly crept back onto your lips, "thank you, sebastian...i wish that made me feel better about it. i really do." he shared a sympathetic smile with you as you sat in comfortable silence for a moment before you continued. "but what about you? what are your plans?" his expression softened to a more playful one as he sat back in his seat, still holding your hand in his.

"oh, you know me. survive." you rolled your eyes at his lightheartedness, but your face looked anything but annoyed by his antics.

"at least you're not planning to leave me here alone."

he shook his head once more, "i'd never." your familiar blush returned, this time reaching your cheeks and nose. you were suddenly hyper-aware of how his hand felt as it held yours and your legs that tangled together under the table.

"so...just me and you then?" you couldn't force your eyes to meet his, as much as you wanted them to.

"against the world." if you weren't blushing before, you definitely were now. something about that made your mind go blank and you suddenly couldnt find a clever remark to retort with. to fill the gap, you brought your own mug to your lip, taking a selfish sip. like sebastian's, it left a silly mustache on your lip. you didn't notice at first, caught up in your thoughts.

"oh, you've got a little..." he gestured to his mouth and you instantly knew. did you always have to make a fool of yourself in front of him? you wiped it with your thumb, but a little dribble remained at the corner of your mouth.

"here, let me." he gently brought his hand up to ghost over your cheek, wiping the leftover foam from your lip. you were sure now that your entire face was beet red from the contact.

you were back to searching your mind frantically for any response. luckily, you didn't need to find one, as someone had joined you at the edge of your table. once you looked up, you realized it was sirona ryan, the owner of the three broomsticks and seer of all, apparently. she held a generous slice of her signature chocolate cake with a dollop of whipped cream and two heart-shaped cherries on top.

"lover's special, on the house. you two have fun at the festival tonight." she placed the plate between the two of you. "not too much fun, though," she added with a wink. you and sebastian exchanged looks, and he was the first to speak.

"lovers special?" he chuckled bemusedly as he looked to you. "i mean, not that i'm one to say no to free cake or anything, but--" he was swiftly cut off by your foot meeting his shin beneath the table.

"thank you sirona," you added sweetly. she smiled politely and turned on her heel to return to the counter.

sebastian laughed, "ow! what was that for?" his playful expression quickly dropped once he saw you, your hands now withdrawn to your lap at you looked down it to it, picking at your nails. "hey, what's wrong?"

you answered meekly, "is it really that weird to think of me in that way?" he instantly felt terrible. you looked so hurt. "i thought maybe since..." you trailed off, sighing. "i don't know what i thought.

"no, no, that's not what i meant at all!" he quickly defended. "i just--i guess i was surprised by sirona's assumption, is all..." it was his turn to fall silent, trying desperately to find the words to say next.

he cleared his throat and asked gently, "do...do you think of me in that way?" he was almost afraid of saying it outright.

realizing there was no way out of this painfully awkward conversation, you were able to stutter out, "oh! i-- uhm, no! i mean--" you instantly covered your face with your hands, wanting to hide. "oh, merlin, i've ruined it, haven't i?" your voice was muffled as you hid behind your hands. he was quick to pull your hands away from your face and hold them in his own.

"you haven't ruined anything, promise. i'm just a bit confused." you took a deep breath, still avoiding his eyes. you felt so embarrassed.

"i just...i wanted this to be perfect, i wanted us to have butterbeer and look at all the shops and dance and maybe i could finally-- or maybe you would--...i don't know. i'm sorry, sebastian." you let your head fall again, refusing to look him in the eye. he only squeezed your hand comfortingly, finally feeling like he understood.

"hey," he outstretched his hand to tilt your head upward, finally meeting your eye. "if you wanted this to be a date..." he gulped down hard, feeling sweat prick his forehead. "i wouldn't mind that at all." you looked instantly relieved as the tension left your body.

"really?" he nodded, relazing a bit himself.

"really. i'm sorry it took me so long to say something. i didn't think you were interested."

"sebastian, i wouldn't do half the things i do for you if i weren't interested." you admitted, making him laugh heartily.

"and i wouldn't hold your books and walk you to class every day. those damned things are heavy!" you returned the chuckle, finally feeling calm again. unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes was watching the two of you and relishing in their successfull efforts. sirona ryan, unofficial dessert fairy and matchmaker, sometimes needed to give students a gentle push in the right direction. and they thanked her for that.

reblog if you made it to then end!

lmk if you want a part 2 cause i would be down.

[deansraspberrypie]

Danneel modeling the Link Collection 💖💎👑

🍰 Tag list: @undisputedchick2 @jranutter @kazsrm67 🥧

[heartfullofleeches]

This is such a silly and stupid idea but I am desperate for a Yandere x Reader where the Yandere is this extremely paranoid/depressed fuck who thinks the world is diseased and the only way for it to get clean is to get rid of all human life on it, they are willing to kill for a "better cause" and have absolutely no mercy...and then there is Reader (the only person they don't hate entirely), who is into Eurodance, is extremely positive and is a complete fashion disaster who believes it is good in everything and everyone.

This is very much based on my recent obsession with Planet of the Bass but let's not talk about it lol.

I just want these two completely opposite bitches to try and teach each other their points of view while one slowly falls in love with the other

[Here's a blurbo I had in limbo with a similar plot. Yan is indeed depressed/hates the world and Reader's moreso into rave because I dunno anything about Eurodance. Tw: themes of suicide]

This is it. Their final night alive.

They'd done all they needed. Returned a book collecting dust on their desk. Disposed of the tools used on corpses in some other lake to keep their name from more attention. It's crazy how in their last moments all that mattered was the thoughts and options of those who lead them to this fate. How disgusting. They did their victims a favor by leaving them nameless. The murky waters below reflect a dread known long before the plunge. There is nothing waiting for them. Not here. Not on the other side.

Their final night alive. Or so it would have been.

Right as they climbed on the bridge's ledge, back facing the sky, small beads of light rose from the hill adjacent. The tiny orbs merge into separate distinct figures on the horizon. Wheeling onto the scene, the group ride with vehicles unusual for the terrain. Rollerskates, skateboards, electric scooters. They wear some matter of bright clothing with glowsticks and lights dangling from their person in flashy jewelry and attached to headphones they wore. They all seemed to be equipped with some type of earwear and dancing to their own beat while still moving as one.

The group stop at the other side of the road, all oblivious to the shadow lurking across the way. They glared - climbing down from the ledge and sitting upon it, seething. The group may not notice them now, but they'd surely catch on at most inconvenient time. It would seem their presence wasn't completely ignored as one head turns their way. One of the figures wearing skates waves, pointing to one of the many necklaces around their neck. The shadow avoids their smile, praying they get the message.

They don't.

Sparkling wheels crunch over gravel. "Hey."

Silence.

They remove their headphones. "Hey!"

Nothing. Persisting, the person wheels over to the railing, leaning against it as they breath in the salty air. "Long drop down. Won't be quick."

As if that would deter them.

"I won't get on your case. We've all been there at some point. Life sucks, and then you did. Feels like your taking control by going out on your own terms, but you won't and may never will. That's why it's important to enjoy the little things. It's why I hang out with those guys. We get together every once and a while. Party on wheels as some of us call it. Lots of fun."

The party-goer takes off their headphones and places their music player on the railing. "This is what I listen to when I'm down. Maybe it can help you. Maybe not - but I'd like you to return it some day. My name is Y/n, by the way. Just so you know when we meet again."

You take off your necklace and offer it to them. They take it - just to get you to leave them alone. You solemnly wave again, returning to your group and taking over the mantle of carrying the portable speaker another brought with them. You take their arm, balancing skillfully on your wheels as you dance the fleeting night away with no care of the coming dawn.

Your type were the worse of all. Giving them more tasks to complete before they departed from this miserable world. They hated carrying the duties given by others on their shoulders so much they couldn't pass on, but looking at your smiling face, sorting through the music that got you through the toughest - they couldn't see themselves from fulfilling their end of the deal you set anywhere in the near future.

For once in their life living in someone's else's shadow didn't seem so bad.

[hearts4hughes]

lacy | mark estapa

( mark estapa x fem!reader )

a/n: i know i should be working on my bday celly, but this song has been stuck in my head since i first heard it. olivia so perfectly captured the feeling of insecurities within girls and others. this is sooo short and it’s devastating writing mark angst, but i had to write something for this song!

warnings: mentions of being insecure, being led on, no part two!

Lacy, oh, Lacy

Skin like puff pastry

Aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of Hell?

Dear angel Lacy

Eyes white as daisies

Did I ever tell you that I’m not doin' well?

the bar was loud- so loud it hurt your head. then again, maybe it was also the result of the countless drinks you’d lost track of, each one seemingly going down easier than the last.

why had you agreed to go there? why had you agreed to torture yourself?

just a week ago mark had his arm around you. he was whispering sweet nothings into your ear, giving you the impression he wanted more than to just be best friends. yet he never acted on it, never followed through. so you waited on this confusing limbo. you didn’t know what you were waiting for- perhaps for your crush on your best friend to magically disappear or for him to finally act on all those mixed signals.

now, mere days later, he had his arm around her- treating her as he had just treated you. his arm rested comfortably around her waist. their height difference made him have to lean down to whisper in her ear, just as he had done with you. and he looked at her with those unmistakable heart eyes. you wanted to believe that she had lured him in with some siren song, or maybe cast a spell on him, but you didn’t believe in magic. that’s why lacy almost didn’t seem real. she was impossibly perfect.

her long, blonde hair was tied back with delicate pink ribbons, matching with her adorable slip dress. but when you wore pink, it washed out all of your features, leaving you feeling less then feminine. with lacy, it was different. pink accentuated her plump red lips and those piercing blue eyes of hers. she embodied femininity in every way.

why couldn’t you look like that?

Smart, sexy Lacy

I'm losin’ it lately

I feel your compliments like bullеts on skin

Dazzling starlet

Bardot reincarnate

Wеll, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist?

you were jolted as she gracefully moved away from mark and headed in your direction. she sent you the sweetest smile, showing off her pearly white teeth. it was the kind of smile that could uplift anyone that was lucky enough to see it.

“oh my goodness, you look like an actual goddess!” she complimented, her eyes filled with sincerity and awe. there was no devilish undertone or hidden agenda in her words, so why did it feel like bullets against your skin?

you smiled in return, yet it didn’t reach your eyes. “speaking of looking like a goddess, darling, that’s you.” you replied with sincerity, even though the gnawing feeling in your stomach hinted otherwise.

“thank you so much, cutie! i channeled my inner bardot with this look.” she said, though she didn’t need to channel anyone. she was a modern-day brigitte bardot herself. “anyways, catch you later; i’m going to get drinks for mark and me.” she beamed, planted a sweet kiss on your cheek, and strutted off to the bar.

you wanted so desperately to find a flaw, to mock her in some way, but it was impossibly- she was genuinely one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met, and it left you conflicted, torn between admiration and insecurity.

you couldn’t do this. you couldn’t sit here praying on the downfall of her and mark’s relationship. it was time to accept the painful truth: you were just a pawn in his game, leading him to her- his queen. your trembling fingers found their way to the heart pendant necklace around your neck, and with a determined tug, you broke the clasp. gazing at it in your palm, you remembered how mark got it for you for your one year ‘friendiversary’. what once was such a special piece of jewelry, was now a mockery of your failed relationship.

tears welled up in your eyes as you stomped over to mark. he didn’t notice you were next to him until you shoved his shoulder. he looked at you with confusion as you opened his hand, shoving the golden pendant within it.

“what’s going on?” he asked, peering down at the necklace. “why are you giving this to me?” foolish was the only word that could describe him.

“i can’t be friends with you anymore, mark. you’re tearing me apart and i don’t even think you notice it.” you confessed, tears streaming down your face. his eyes were laced with hurt. what had he done to lose his best friend?

“y/n-”

“no, don’t say anything!” you snapped, your breath hitching in your throat. “you don’t get to say anything after what you did to our friendship. you ruined it! you’re the one who ruined it.” your words were slurred, fueled by the alcohol coursing through your veins.

he didn’t respond or ask for clarification; you both knew exactly what had been done to ruin such a solid connection.

as the weight of your confession hung in the air, you turned away from who once was your world, leaving him behind with the heart pendant in his open palm. there was a whirlwind of emotions coursing through you- pain, anger, and an overwhelming sense of betrayal.

pushing through the crowd, you made your way to the exit. lacy waved you bye, clueless of what had just happened.

you stepped out of the bar into the darkness. tears clung to your lashes, but you didn’t let them fall. your phone vibrated in your pocket, but you ignored it- too nervous that you’d see mark’s contact picture staring back at you.

and you left, leaving everything you once cared about behind you; leaving that cruel chapter of your life in the darkness of the open night.

Lacy, oh, Lacy

It's like you're out to get me

You poison every little thing that I do

Lacy, oh, Lacy

I just loathe you lately

And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you

Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you

[greyspirehollow]

We lock eyes again [Request]

Pairing : Quaestor Valdemar x Reader

Fandom : The Arcana visual novel

Warnings : none

Summary : You do not remember how long it took you to finally find a suitable host for your soul, and go on a quest to find your long lost anchor to the mortal world ; the one who your thoughts inevitably converged towards, stubbornly holding you back from crossing the threshold of the afterlife.

It had been centuries. It had been too long. You'd lived many ages : through the eyes of the salmon, deer, and wolf. You would see it in your dreams ; the time you spent in limbo, waiting, patiently...Although, when you awoke, these dreams didn't make sense anymore ; only leaving behind a lingering sense of longing, a feeling that you had to find... What did you have to find? You couldn't put your finger on it...

You sighed, sitting up in your bed and stretching. Another one of those dreams... But you didn't have time to reflect upon them, today. Asra wanted to introduce you to the court of Vesuvia, as a sort of starting point to your journey as a magician's apprentice. You feel as if you've done this before. You got up, yawning, and rummaging through your wardrobe to find something decent to wear. Once you had your outfit all sorted, you decided to add a twinkle of jewelry, just to make it all a little less dull. You had heard about this kingdom's history : struck by a terrible plague that had decimated thousands, sacrifices, memory loss... It was all a bit confusing, so you had only paid attention to the plague bit. Asra eventually knocked on your door "Are you ready?" ; you quickly adjusted your attire before hurrying out of your room "yes! I... Do I look ok? is it not... a little too much?" the magician smiled, looking at you fondly "you look perfect. Now, let's go ; we shouldn't keep the Countess waiting." You followed, walking through the sunlit and busy streets of the kingdom, looking around with delight. You had not left the shop much when you had gotten here, and the lively markets, the colors, and the people actually did you some good (to your surprise).

Your eyes widened slightly as you and your master arrived at the Palace's gates ; you looked up at the shiny architecture with sparkles in your eyes. What snapped you out of it was the voice of the guards demanding you introduce yourselves. Luckily, the Countess had seemingly told them about you and Asra's arrival, as the guards let you pass after having heard the magician's name. You then advanced past the gates, still awestruck. You felt as if the sun was illuminating the Palace in a magical hue, and the more you approached, the faster your heart thumped in your chest. It wasn't just the Palace's glory : you had a feeling. Something that made you apprehensive yet eager to go inside. You felt as if you knew something, but at the same time it was missing ; you had to go in the Palace, but you couldn't figure out why ; it tugged at your heart, pumping adrenaline into your veins, as if strings were drawing you towards the place... However, you kept this to yourself, and quietly followed Asra as you both made your way towards the throne room. Now that you thought about it, you didn't see anyone guide you towards there, and you suspected Asra had come to the Palace before.

However, no one was sitting on the throne. You raised a curious eyebrow, but before you could utter a word, your master uttered a little "ooh" of realization, before saying : "She must be in the drawing room. I wouldn't be surprised if she wished to introduce you to the courtiers as well." You nodded. That made some sense ; even though you were slightly disappointed : you would've loved to meet the Countess in a more private setting. You followed Asra nonetheless. A few turns later, you both found yourselves in said drawing room. The Countess was elegantly sitting in a one-person sofa, while she conversed with five figures, which the diversity of... Struck you, to say the least. Despite your unease, you followed Asra inside, as the magician bowed to the woman whose purple hair draped over her shoulders with shocking delicacy. "Countess Nadia" ; you bowed as well. She smiled "Ah, Asra. And you are..?" she asked, looking at you with a soft yet undeniably authoritative gaze. You managed to stutter out your name, giving her a short bow of the head. "I am glad you two were able to join us for tea. Please, be my guests ; make yourselves comfortable. I will have a cup made for you this instant. Portia?" She called out to a servant, whispering to her something before the young lady hurried out the drawing room, to presumably go fetch the tea.

It is then that Countess Nadia gestured to the other people in the drawing room. So they were the courtiers, you thought, as she went over each of them, your gaze following accordingly. Procurator Volta. Consul Valerius. Praetor Vlastomil. Pontifex Vulgora. Quaestor-

You let out a soft gasp ; no one heard you. Your eyes widened as they locked with their red own. Suddenly, everything made sense. This is why you were here. This is who you had been seeking. The dreams connected themselves, perfectly falling into place at this exact moment. You remembered it all now, the limbo, your adventures from body to body, your struggle and ghostly tears, the longing, the waiting, all that for this person right there, sitting on this sofa amongst the others...

Valdemar.

They looked surprised as well, their eyes never leaving your own, as they seemed to be deep in thought. The conversation around you faded, your whole attention focused onto them. The memory flooded back in your mind, nearly playing out in front of you...

The little cottage. The lingering scent of herbs and wood in the air. The shelves with dried plants, stuffed birds and other animals, skulls they had found on their trips to the forest... And Valdemar themselves. They excitedly opened their journal on the desk, signing you to sit next to them enthusiastically. "Here ! -they said- I've found something ! I think you're going to like it..." You smiled and chuckled. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you managed to capture a frog" They snorted at your reply "I'm past that. No, look... I've managed to make an antidote with snake venom ! I just diluted it, added some... ah, I forgot the plant's name- it's all in my notes, look" they were smiling widely as you approached, standing mere millimeters away from them, your hand brushing against theirs as you flipped through their research journal. It smelled peculiar, it always did : a mix of something like oak and leather, with a hint of vegetation. "It's impressive..." you nodded as your eyes squinted slightly, having a hard time reading certain words because of their highly cursive and optimized handwriting. Valdemar looked at you expectantly. "It is brilliant" you finally said, looking back at them. Your heart skipped a bit at that precious smile of theirs, which pushed their freckles-adorned cheeks. Oh, how you'd kill to pamper those in kisses... "why, I'm quite proud of myself" they said, looking back at the pages. However, their grin faltered slightly "...but what if... what if all this disappears? what then?" your heart ached slightly. You knew how important their researches and breakthroughs were to them. You didn't resist this time : you wrapped their arms around them "do not fret. Your knowledge will not be lost." you spoke softly, hoping to soothe their worries, even temporarily. "...You're right... It and I will live on forever..." They say after a few beats of silence, embracing you back. You smiled, content to see them somewhat reassured.

With that, the memory faded. Your throat tightened and you had to excuse yourself. Your eyes hadn't left Valdemar's for all this time. You made your way to the bathroom, closing the door, but not locking it. You took in a quivering breath, the tears coming to your eyes despite your best attempts at holding them back. Tears of joy...

After a while, someone softly knocked on the door, but before you could get a chance to answer, the door opened, revealing the Quaestor. They stepped inside, carefully closing the door behind them without a sound, and pulling down their mask. As they set eyes on you, their expression softened somewhat. You sniffled, quickly wiping your tears away. You were about to say something, but suddenly stopped yourself. No. You didn't need to talk.

You looked at them... They had changed... You were unfamiliar with this lab-coat, those supposed horns wrapped in bandages, and this sickly green skin... But you'd recognize that thin nose and those thin lips, those freckles and those wide, curious eyes, even if they had turned red, anywhere. You had to bite back both your tears and a smile, as you felt them examine you. They took a step or two towards you and carefully lifted your hands into their own, as if to take a closer look at them. They were... Confused. And a foreign feeling tugged at their heart. They didn't know what it was. They just knew it was... Human. Which only confused them further. Scared them, even, although they wouldn't admit it.

Your eyes.

Your soft hands ; their thumb brushed onto the back of them.

Why do you feel so familiar?

This specific accent they heard when you greeted the Countess earlier.

Your warmth.

It's all so familiar...

Who are you?

Why can't they remember?

They remember someone, they can't say who. They remember them like an essence. A feeling. Nothing concrete. They don't remember their face or their voice but they know how they felt around them. They know they talked to them, even if they don't remember the words they said. It's all blurry. It feels like a dream...

Had it been too long? Did their deals make them forget? Why did you trigger their pseudo-memories of that someone?

They don't remember...

Their brows furrowed as despite their best attempts, the answer just wouldn't come back to them. Their grip on your hands tightened slightly.

But you do. You remember now. You can't help a soft smile from tugging at your lips as you look at them fondly. They haven't changed one bit... Factually, they did. But to you ? They were still the same. Deep down, they were still your sweet alchemist. You had missed their voice... You had changed as well, beyond recognition. You were aware of that. Those tedious years you spent in limbo had carried you into body after body, having to live as a wild animal once or twice as to not disappear... You wouldn't tell. Even if your soul was the same. They would either recognize you, or they wouldn't, and you were perfectly fine with both. Your alchemist... They were there, in the flesh. You had to hold back your tears of joy, yet again.

Valdemar sighed, briefly closing their eyes. "...I do not know who you are -they started-, nor do I know where you come from" your heart tickled in your ribs. They locked eyes with you again. "... But I feel as if I am happy to see you again". You nearly lost it, briefly closing your eyes and tilting your head down as to not burst in tears "strange, -you started- I feel the same about you" you chuckled. "Maybe... Forces we don't know of are into play?" you looked back up at them. They didn't seem to like that idea too much "I hope not... I would rather know who is playing with me like that" their tone held nothing negative. You couldn't help but chuckle again "w-well..." you cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice from shaking too much "Whether it is planned or... conducted by something in some way... I don't think this is too bad, eh?" you tentatively asked. They seemed to turn the thought into their head, their red eyes briefly flickering to your hands.

"...I suppose not."

You nodded, fighting for your life tears to not roll down your cheeks. You knew it made you look somewhat suspicious, but if they'd noticed, they didn't comment on it.

"...Say, -they spoke once more- what do you think after... the end of your meeting with the Countess, we spend some time in the library? I feel as if... We have... uhm... Something to catch up on." oh Gods, they absolutely hated when things were blurry and inexplicable. You nodded, practically beaming "I-I would love to." you said, once more looking at your hands in their own.

You both exited the bathroom, hand in hand. You softly let go once you had come back around the drawing room, and Valdemar did the same. However, they sat down next to you. While you joined the conversation between Nadia and Asra, their eyes never left your hand resting on the sofa, withing reach, and once more endless questions tossed and turned in their head... But it looks like the mystery of you was going to stay unsolved...

[sir-fenris]

With the last strenght of the Limbo Forces, I have concluded my last art for the time being... the Forces need a recovery time after this one.

As promised, I present Emperor Paris, a character of @paingoes 's Destroyer series.

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(Arts' masterlist)

A little blabbering about the art under the cut.

Paris wears more red and pink attire, so I used those colors on his clothing, but added a purple shoulder-cloak to reminisce about the previous Emperor's influence. The background is purple because of the Emperor too.

I tried to use decorations such as roses and leaves, since the rose is the Empire's official flower. I also tried to make the clothing similar to the 18th-century style in Russia and France, but I don't think I quite achieved it. The crown/tiara, however, does look a bit like the Devonshire Diamond Tiara, even though I used the Empire's colors for it. And I added as much gold jewelry as I could, because... Paris.

(All this informations are in @paingoes post)