#me staring at my reflection: well YOU are in this fandom and YOU want to read this fic!!! but it doesn't exist yet does it?

[protect-namine]

you have to kill the voice inside of you that says no one cares about reading your fic and amplify the voice inside of you that says you care about reading your fic. this fic doesn't exist yet! that's why we write!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—PART TWO

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: Daddy issues.

Notes: Glad you guys loved the first part despite it being so short.

PART ONE | PART THREE | NAVIGATION

The sunlight passed by the small gaps of the curtains, shining down on the face of a sleeping boy. Light blond hair messy but perfectly framing his beautiful face, red circles on his pale cheeks, a pop of color. He groans as he buries his face underneath the large fluffy white blanket, eventually groaning as he opens his eyes, [e/c] eyes adjusting to the brightness of his room. Sitting up on his queen sized bed that is surrounded by pillows. As much as he wants to sleep in, he has duties as an angel and as the son of [y/n] Caeles.

Getting out of bed, slipping his feet into the fluffy white slippers. He moved across his large room, stopping by a large mirror.

He frowns when sees his reflection, the only thing he can see is his deadbeat father who left his mother for another woman.

He hated it, he could see his supposed father staring back at him through the mirror. The fallen angel, Lucifer staring right back at him. A cruel reminder that he is his father's son.

He's thankful he has her eyes, at least he was able to have a piece of her on him. He hated his father, his mother never hid his father from him and told him everything what he wanted to know. He'd do anything for his mother. He loves her so much.

He knows that his mother often gets sad when he sees him, he knows because she could see the man that hurt her on his face. He doesn't blame her. He hated his face too, despite it being heaven's most beautiful facial features. He wished he had his mother's face instead.

Getting a large robe that was placed on the cushioned chair, draping it over his body. Time to get ready, he has a lot of work to do.

[Y/n] looks up from her newspaper, seeing her son finally entering the dining room, dressed in his military like uniform but in colors of white and gold. She sat on one of the chairs of the dining table, a breakfast already made by yours truly—pancakes and bacon and of course, two cups of steaming black coffee.

[Y/n]'s eyes lit up when she saw her son, “Good morning Xavier, did you sleep well?” she asked with a small smile, watching as the boy sat next to her. Xavier gave his mother a close eyed smile.

“Good morning to you too, mother. You look very beautiful this morning.” he says softly, closing his eyes as he felt his mother's hand ruffle his hair, playfully groaning. “Hey! I just brushed my hair.” Xavier says with a small pout and [y/n] chuckles and places a gentle kiss on the boy's forehead.

“I couldn't help it, my boy is just the sweetest.” [y/n] says and Xavier blushes softly and just chuckles.

“It is because I have the most amazing mother in the whole world, that's why.” he says.

[Y/n] smiled at him, “Oh, you... Aren't you just the sweetest?” she giggled and he just chuckled.

The two made a sign of the cross, praying to say thank you for the blessings they have received. Finishing the prayer, the two finally ate breakfast.

“So you're going to be training with your uncle today?” [y/n] asked, looking at the young man beside her. Xavier nodded, he would be training with Uncle Michael today.

“Yes, mother. I am hoping he can help me improve on how to fight.” He says with a small smile and [y/n] squished the young man's cheek, the latter pouting.

“I know you'll do great, you make me so proud.” [y/n] says softly and Xavier had to try so hard not to cry. He loves it when he makes her happy, his mom deserves the whole world after all.

“Thanks, mom.” he says softly and her eyes soften and they continue to eat breakfast.

After breakfast, Xavier helped his mother clean up the table and offered to wash the dishes. [Y/n] wanted to insist on doing it as she feared it would dirty his suit but the boy insisted. He just rolled up the sleeves and wore an apron.

When he was done doing his morning routine, he walked to the living room to see his mom already dressed for work. His eyes saddened, he won't be seeing her for a couple of days again.

Walking towards his mother, the older woman hugged her son. “Don't miss me too much, dearie.” [y/n] says with a giggle. Her hand rubbing circles on the boy's back.

“I'll try not to. I'm just worried.” Xavier says softly, he doesn't like it when she leaves to go to the mortal realm. He worries for her physically and mentally. Humans, human way of living is very... Mentally unhealthy and he fears it will affect his mother too.

[Y/n] smiled softly, patting the boys light blond hair. “Do not worry about me, Azrael would be there to protect me if needed.” she says with a smile.

With the mention of the angel of death, Xavier sees the older man like a father figure. The man has always been present in his life.

Xavier smiled and nodded, “Alright.”

[Y/n] smiles, “Good luck with training, don't overwork okay? Summon me if you must.” she says sternly as the two finally let go of the hug, her hand was placed on her waist.

Xavier nodded, “I promise and I will make you proud.”

[Y/n] grins, “That's my boy,” she says and snapped her fingers and a portal appeared, “Goodluck kiddo, I'll see you in a few days.” she says softly and places a kiss on his forehead before going inside the portal. The portal closes.

Taking one last look of himself on the mirror, the face of his biological father staring back at him. Xavier rolls his eyes and scoffed. Unrolling his sleeves, adjusting his collar. Unfurling his large and majestic white wings. It's time to train, he promised to become one of heaven's protector and he promised he'll rise the ranks and join his mother.

Training with his uncle went by smoothly, he did lost but at least he learned something. Xavier was flying around heaven, wanting to return home but his eyes landed on a familiar seraphim. Emily, his heart started to beat faster. He always liked the girl, the girl is pretty and kind, okay?

His eyes landed on the person wearing such bright red suit. An eyesore, really. A pop of color in heaven.

Xavier tilted his head and decided to approach the girls.

Emily jumped slightly in surprise, seeing the beautiful and handsome and nonchalant looking young general that is her friend landed beside her gracefully.

Yes, Xavier puts up a front in public. He doesn't want others to know he's a total Mama's boy.

Xavier nodded and gave Emily a gentle smile, “Greetings, Emily. Off to showing off a new soul around?” he asked, voice gentle and calm.

Emily grinned and blushed slightly, nodding. “Not exactly a new resident, just a visitor.” Emily explained and Xavier turned to look at this supposed visitor and he could feel himself freeze slightly.

Who wouldn't freeze when seeing the same face as you but in the opposite gender.

“Xavier, this is Charlotte Morningstar...” Emily says hesitantly, now remembering who's the biological father of the boy.

Xavier's eyes narrowed but was quickly replaced as he gave the new girl a closed eyed smile, a forced one. “Really? So that makes you my half sister then?” Xavier says with a grin and Charlie's whole being froze.

Emily looked at the two nervously, she knows Xavier isn't violent but she does know how the boy hates his biological father to the core.

“... Half sister...?” Charlie asked, her voice in disbelief.

“Indeed! We share the same father. It is a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte.” Xavier says with a grin but his eyes dull, no longer have the usual shine on them. Charlie was nervous, she doesn't know how to act around the boy. She knows he isn't lying because the boy literally looks like her father.

“How rude of me,” Xavier says with a small gasp, “Let me properly introduce myself, I am Xavier Caeles. Son of [y/n] Caeles. It is a pleasure to meet you, dear sister.” he says with a smirk, looking down on the girl (literally because he's taller than her, a trait he is thankful that he inherited from his mother. Good Lord, he would be miserable if he had his father's height), offering his hand for a handshake which the girl hesitantly and nervously returned.

“It is nice to meet you too... Xavier..” she says and Xavier grins, Emily just looked at the two nervously. Thanking that a fight nor an argument haven't started yet.

“It was a pleasure meeting you but I must go, I still have far more important matters to attend to. Emily, I'll catch up to you later.” Xavier says with a small smile, turning his back from the two girls.

Before he flies away, he stopped. Not bothering to look at his half sister, “Tell our dear father I said hi, okay? Farewell.” he says, not a single emotion in his voice. He quickly spreads his wings and flew off.

“Stars... I didn't expect to see my half sister today..” Xavier murmurs to himself as he flies back home.

Meanwhile, Charlie stood in disbelief next to Emily. Turning around to look at the Seraphim, “Was he really my...?” Charlie asked hesitantly and Emily nodded with a small sad smile, “Yes but it's not my story to tell.” Emily explained softly and Charlie nodded.

“Let us just continue showing you around, yeah?” Emily says softly and the princess of hell nodded.

Emily knows that Xavier's interest has been piqued. She knows he'll be there during the meeting now that he knows his half sister is going to be there.

End Notes: I forgot to mention, reader's work clothes are the same as Arlecchino from Genshin Impact wears.

Taglist:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @cadelinhadochoso

[perplexedflower]

Connection

Fandom: Gravity Falls.

Category: F/M.

Relationship: Stanford Pines x Female Reader.

Type: One shot.

Words: 3,830.

Summary: Stanford Pines is anything but used to romance, but when the young woman he has fallen for confesses her feelings to him, it feels to him as though they were destined to be together…

Chronology: Late Season 2.

~~~~~~~~~~

I felt a little dizzy as my body began to tremble, but after one slow, deep breath, I regained my composure and walked out of the attic. After having spent so long, so much time, so many days debating with myself, I had finally made up my mind: that day was the day I would dare approach Stanford and confess to him everything that weighed on my mind. At last.

I made my way down the staircase and up to the vending machine, alone in the room; that afternoon was bright and sunny, thankfully for me, as all the others were spending their time outside the shack. The last thing I wanted was for one of them to walk in on me confessing my love to Stanford, and the sheer thought of such a thing happening was enough to bring knots to my stomach.

Still standing in front of the vending machine, I input the code to the basement on the pad, a code only the Stan twins knew better than I did, a code I typed in every day, a code that had become so important to me.

Come on, [Y/N]... You can do it. I motivated myself through thought as I watched the secret door open. You've prepared yourself for this day, for this exact moment... You can do it.

With the vending machine now retracted, I took a deep breath once more, sensing my nervousness rise as my stomach truly began to ache, my heart beating faster in my chest than it had ever before. For the second time, I found myself faced with a flight of stairs: I walked down each step, one by one, until I arrived at the elevator. With a slightly trembling index finger, I pressed the button that led to the last floor, which was home to the now-broken portal. While I waited inside the elevator, I continuously repeated to myself the speech I had prepared, the speech I intended to give to Stanford. And the second the elevator stopped moving and the doors slowly opened, I knew my time had come.

Seated on his chair, Stanford was pacing back and forth between all corners of the room, whether it was his desk, shelves, or even the ground, promptly standing up to grab some of his tools off the floor before he sat right back down. For but a moment, it was clear he had not yet noticed I was present in the room with him, until I took a few steps forward in his direction: then, he instantly recognized the sound of my footsteps and finally turned around to me.

From the other end of the room, he showed me a warm smile that made my heart flutter.

"Good afternoon, [Y/N]." He said cheerfully while he brushed the dust off his clothes with his hands. "How are you feeling today? Good, I hope."

"Good afternoon, Ford." I said back to him as I tried to sound as nonchalant as I could. "I'm fine, yes, thank you for asking. And what about you?"

"I'm doing great." He answered, still smiling. "In fact, I'm doing very well."

"Really, how so?"

"Well, I can't quite yet tell you much about it, but my current research is coming along nicely, to say it all." He told me with delight.

"Oh, that's fantastic news!" I exclaimed enthusiastically.

I stared at Stanford in the eyes, pretending to be jolly, when my heart rate was in fact racing.

"Oh, but enough about all that." He said as he took a step toward me while gesturing his hands. "Tell me, [Y/N], why are you not outside? I would have expected to see you out there, enjoying such a sunny day."

"You're one to talk, you know?" I teased him with a light chuckle. "But, as for me... Well..."

The old ceiling lamp above our heads emanated a low light that mixed in orange and red, which faintly reflected against the lenses of Stanford's glasses, making them sparkle just slightly.

"You see, Ford..." I started, the volume of my voice diminishing with each word. "God, it's just so hard to say it..."

As my hands began to tremble and awkwardly twist their fingers, he took yet another step in my direction, which brought him right in front of me.

"[Y/N], are you sure everything's all right?" He asked me with concern while he rested a delicate hand on one of my shoulders. "Is something the matter?"

To avoid his gaze, I lowered my head and stared at the ground, at my feet, just in front of his.

"Ford... There's something I have to tell you." I finally managed to say. "It's... really important... to me. That's why I'm here and not outside with the others."

While I spoke, I simply could not resist the urge to look down at Stanford's hand, holding my shoulder in place with a firm grip, yet without too much pressure; and the longer I stared at it, the longer I felt his touch on me, the more I could sense my heart pounding in my chest. I could tell my cheeks were progressively turning pink as I allowed my eyes to wander, leaving his hand to trace up his arm, detailing the outline of his muscles through the sleeve of his coat.

It's undeniable that the 30 years Ford spent stuck in-between dimensions have toughened him up... by a lot. I thought to myself. He's told me before that back when he and Stanley were little, he would get pushed around by other kids, even bullied. Then, growing up into adulthood, as a scientist and researcher, he never quite had a muscular physique, unlike his twin brother. But now, I look at him... and I can't help but feel a sense of pride seeing the man he has become.

I quickly pulled myself out of my thoughts and diverted my eyes from his arm, then cleared my throat before I looked back up at his face.

"I have to tell you that... I'm really glad that Stanley made the right choice to save you and bring you back here... and that Mabel decided not to press that button." I told him with genuine affection. "Stanford, I like you, and—"

"Oh, how sweet of you, [Y/N]." He exclaimed with a smile as he interrupted me. "I know it may not always seem like it, but I'm actually truly happy to be back, to be here, beside you all, even Stanley... And that includes you, of course. I like you too, [Y/N]."

With a grin still displayed on his face, he leaned forward and moved his hand from my shoulder to my head: his palm tousled my hair, after which he started to walk back to his desk, assuming our conversation was over and that he could go back to his work.

"T-Thank you, Ford, but you don't get it—" I said with a sad smile while I shook my head slowly, my eyebrows furrowed. "I like you, Stanford... I love you."

It felt as though my words echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls, surrounding us wholly, resonating within our heads. He immediately stopped walking, his foot frozen in mid-air, and remained still, his back turned to me; although I could not see his face, I could feel mine growing hot with blush, an expression of conflicted emotions on my face.

"... Hum— You know what? Forget I said anything." I mumbled as I stared at his back. "I... don't know what came over me, but just— Ignore it... please..."

The more I tried to express myself properly, the longer I spent choosing my words, the more teardrops escaped my eyes, rolling down across my cheeks and ending their course on the ground.

"This... must sound like complete nonsense to you... I'm sure you're thinking I've lost my mind."

While I still stared at his back, still turned to me, Stanford still motionless, I took a blind step backward, then another.

"... I'm very sorry to have disturbed you, Stanford... You may resume your work, now."

The second I finished speaking, I promptly turned around and nervously pressed the button on the elevator: and as I stepped inside, I anxiously waited to hear him say something, anything, but he remained quiet. I pressed a second button, this time to order the elevator to go back up to the surface. After a second of silence that felt excruciatingly long, the two doors closed, and the moment the elevator started to move, I broke into tears.

I was still sobbing when, shortly after, I walked out of the elevator, climbing the secret stairs back up to arrive back into the room. I was too emotionally compromised to truly scan my surroundings, but I was still able to tell all the others were still busy, as the room was still empty.

I need... to be alone... I told myself. I need to find a place... somewhere, anywhere...

I knew the attic was out of the question, considering Dipper and Mabel could have very well been there, and so was the kitchen, given how much time Stanley spent in it; the only place that was left, the only place I could think of was the secret room Soos had discovered the other day, by pure accident. Once standing in front of the door, I gave it a soft push with my hand, too feeble to put any amount of strength into my movements. But as physically weak as I felt, I stepped inside the room without even an ounce of hesitation.

Once I was in, I closed the door behind me then took a look around the dim room, plunged into darkness, and, soon enough, my eyes spotted a couch: without a second thought, I made my way to it and sat down, bringing both of my legs onto the sofa. The temperature in the room was quite cold, which forced me to bury my face into the sweater I was wearing, a sweater Mabel had knitted for me. And as I sat in the dark, I let my tears flow, pouring out of my eyes like a river.

For a while, although I had no notion of how long it had been, I did not move from my spot, nor did I stop weeping, surrounded by my overwhelming thoughts in the midst of obscurity. That was, until I heard the door of the room open behind me, in such a slow and gentle manner it was almost inaudible.

Without sticking my head out of my sweater, I shook my head at the sound.

"I don't know who you are, but frankly, I don't care." I let out in-between two tears, my voice muffled. "Please... go away... I just need some time on my own..."

Despite my pitiful request, the person decided to walk in anyway, and I felt my heart twist into knots when I recognized the sound of their footsteps on the creaking floor, the sound of old, muddy boots. They continued, growing closer and closer to me, until they stopped, right beside me, and after but only a second, I felt his body sit down on the couch, just next to mine.

"[Y/N]... Please, listen." Stanford started in a tone so gentle it was almost a whisper. "You may think you've lost your mind, but you're far from it, trust me."

His voice and his words reached my ears and instantly enveloped me in a sensation of safety, of warmth, of comfort, and a part of me was already soothed, just listening to them, no matter how much I craved to be alone at that moment.

Though hesitantly, I slowly raised my head from my sweater, revealing the upper part of my face, though the rest was still concealed: and in an instant, my eyes were met with his, his gaze soft and affectionate.

"Because of... what you've told me, you see yourself as a freak... as some kind of monster. And you know this is something I can relate to, [Y/N]. I've had similar thoughts in the past, when I was a child, after other people would make fun of me for my weirdness, especially my polydactyly. But no matter how many times I got pushed around, I always— Well, almost always had my brother by my side, to remind me I should not be ashamed of who I am... Just like you have us."

Ever so gently, Stanford extended one of his hands to me, reaching down into my sweater to grab my chin between his thumb and index finger. And that one single gesture tore my heart in half.

I already know how all of this is going to end... Ford is going to comfort me, to try and make me feel better, but he's not going to bring up again my love declaration, he's going to ignore my feelings for him... He'd rather avoid mentioning it, finding it easier to pretend as if it never happened... and this tension between us would remain.

With my face still held by his hand, he stared deeply into my eyes, though it appeared his confidence was progressively fading away.

"[Y/N], I... I don't... quite know how to say this..."

His face turned pink as he broke eye contact with me, his eyes restless.

"I've never really... done this type of thing... ever, you see, so..."

But eventually, after looking for the right words for some time, he looked back into my eyes, this time with strong determination.

"I love you too, [Y/N]." He blurted out bashfully.

Upon hearing his words, my eyes opened wide and my heart stopped beating. I was already convinced my imagination had played a trick on me, unable to believe what Stanford had just said to be the truth.

"... This... is not something I thought I would say today, but I assure you that I mean it, no matter how unbelievable it may sound to you." He further confessed, his words heavy. "I've had feelings for you ever since the day I first made your acquaintance. I saw you for the first time and... found you... beautiful. I talked to you for the first time and thought your personality was wonderful. Then I saw how well you got along with my family, with Stanley and the kids, and... I felt something I had never really felt before."

He marked a pause, his voice slightly shaky and his face shifting from pink to red.

"... A-And, at first, I couldn't believe it was love, I put the blame on... on the fact that you simply had been the first woman my eyes landed on after 30 years outside of this dimension, but—... But soon enough, I had to be rational and face the truth... I understood I truly had fallen for you."

Although I kept quiet, I could very distinctively tell what was going through Stanford's mind, especially given the facial expressions he was switching between as he spoke.

"But I... I didn't say anything." He continued, lowering his eyes to avoid mine. "I didn't know how to properly apprehend these feelings, how to confess them to you... For a man my age, all of this shouldn't be a problem, but... well, my experience is close to none. I understand your own hesitation regarding your feelings came from our age gap, and, quite frankly, so did mine. I just couldn't find a way to let you know about mine without coming across as a pervert... So I decided to bottle it all up."

After his last sentence, silence reigned for a moment, and I understood his speech had finally come to an end; the two of us were now staring straight at each other, our gazes locked on, neither of us saying a word. Only then did Stanford remember he was still holding my chin, and only then did he realize his speech had gone on for much longer than he himself had intended, judging by the look on his face. His eyes suddenly opened wide, his cheeks still buried under a thick layer of blush as he let go of my face, visibly embarrassed.

"I-I'm sorry, [Y/N]— I said too much, didn't I?" He asked me, seemingly shameful. "I must have spoken for too long— You said you wanted to be left alone, so... I'll be going, now—"

He hurriedly stood up from the sofa as he nervously pushed his glasses on his nose. He promptly made his way to the door of the room, but before I could let him get too far away from me, I extended an arm toward him and reached for the bottom of his coat: as he felt my hand tug at the fabric, he turned back around and looked at me, at the single tear rolling down my cheek.

"Stay." I said in a whisper. "... Please."

Stanford's eyes remained on me, on my face, which was now begging for his presence, and he could feel it; all while staring down at me, he walked back to the couch and sat back down, this time even closer to me, close enough to wrap his arms around my body and bring it down against his as he lay back slightly. His embrace felt warm and secure, yet so overwhelming as well. With my face nestled in the crook of his neck, I closed my eyes and took multiple deep breaths, his natural scent soothing me further with each passing second.

As I listened to the sound of his heart beating faster in his chest, I felt one of his hands rub my back gently, shortly followed by a kiss he left on the crown of my head. Both of us found peace and tranquility within that moment, that moment of serenity and quietness; but the silence did not last for long, as I let out a heavy sigh.

"... I'm sorry, Ford." I said, my voice slightly muffled against his skin.

"What for?" He kindly asked while looking down at me.

"For... all of this. For having waited all this time to let you know how I feel, and for having made you repress your own feelings. Because of me... we've wasted so much time we could have spent... this way."

Stanford chuckled, a genuine laugh that made my heart skip a beat and turned the tips of my ears red.

"You don't need to apologize for such things, [Y/N]." He stated as he brought his hands down on my shoulders.

With slow and gentle care, he pulled me out of his embrace, just slightly, just enough so that he could look down at me, so that our faces could meet, so that he could show me his bright smile.

"You're not responsible for any of this, and if we follow your way of thinking, logic would have it I need to apologize too. But neither of us is at fault, here. So, please, don't burden yourself with guilt."

With a shy smile, I closed my eyes and nodded. When I opened them again, I was still faced with his loving smile, with his affectionate gaze; and, after but a brief moment of uncertainty and indecision, I slowly brought my hand up to his face and gently rested my palm on his cheek, which led to the blush on his cheeks intensifying. As my fingers drifted down along his jaw and then his neck, I tilted my head a little.

I've... never really been this close to Ford before... It might take some getting used to... But I get the feeling that won't be an issue.

Our eyes gazed deeply into one another as my other hand found its way to his torso, my palm slowly rising and falling along his heaving chest, along the rhythm of his heartbeat. One of his hands left my shoulders to hold my waist, while the other held the nape of my neck, his fingers delicately running through my hair. Our faces grew closer to each other, the air around us filled with anticipation and excitement, until we both tilted our heads and closed our eyes: our lips met and our embrace grew tighter, finally sharing together this special moment we had waited so long to see happen.

My hand on his neck moved to the collar of his sweater, which I grabbed passionately while I felt Stanford furrow his eyebrows, his lips sighing against mine, cherishing the moment as he held me against his body. But the moment inevitably came to an end when we both pulled away, slightly out of breath, slightly panting, in an atmosphere that had all of a sudden become heavy. The two of us were still nervous, even now that we had kissed, and I could tell Stanford was feeling particularly awkward: with a soft smile, I tugged at his sweater and leaned forward to leave one more kiss on his lips, catching him off-guard. After I pulled away, I stared into his wide-open eyes with love as I caressed his blushing cheek.

"That was wonderful, Ford." I told him enthusiastically in a reassuring tone.

While still smiling, I readjusted his glasses on his nose a little better, seeing as they had slightly slipped down during our kiss.

"For a man in his 60s who's barely ever kissed a woman before, you're quite a good kisser." I added, teasing him playfully.

My compliment made him chuckle, somewhat awkwardly but mostly with genuine affection.

"Well... Thank you, [Y/N]." He said while blushing. "You're... really good yourself."

My body imitated his and I felt the redness on my face intensify as I giggled lightly. Both of his hands traveled back down around my waist, which he grabbed firmly, though without applying too much pressure.

"Well... The afternoon is far from over, so why don't you and I go back to the basement?" He suggested happily, visibly excited at the idea of keeping this conversation going elsewhere. "I'll show you a glimpse of what I've been working on these past few days."

"I like the sound of that." I replied just as happily.

With the help of my hips, his hands moved my body to the side, freeing his so that he could stand up from the couch: then, as he stared down into my eyes, he opened the palm of his hand to me.

"Then, let's get back to work... Shall we, sweetheart?"

I felt my pulse accelerate greatly upon hearing him call me by such a pet name, but I did my best to keep my composure as I nodded and put my palm in his.

Hand in hand, Stanford and I walked out of the room and headed to the basement, where we spent the rest of the day together, exchanging more than just words, until the sun went down and the moon went up.

[delirious-donna]

Demon In The Mirror [Sebastian Michaelis]

an: this is a rework of an old fic for a different character/fandom. I liked this fic idea and lovely Sebby really fit it, or at least I think so! I've been hyperfixated on the world's best butler so this scratched an itch for me.

pairing: Sebastian Michaelis x female reader

warnings: canon Sebastian, mirror sex, rough touching, praise, light degradation, biting, mark marking, dirty talk, pussy fingering, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mentions of blood (tiny)

Masterlist

A mirror–polished and unassuming as it stood in the corner of the room. It never lied, never hid the truth behind a veil of deceit. All it could do was reflect what it hungrily absorbed.

Truth laid bare for all who peered into its depths. The reflection of not only your physical reactions–the jerk of your limbs, soft quiver of your stomach–but your emotions poured into the surface and were somehow magnified back. Magic, perhaps?

On its own, the mirror was a beautiful thing, decoratively ornate and standing on claw feet. You gazed into it every morning to peruse your outfit and ensure your hair was coiffed exactly as intended. However, when you added what was showing on the calm surface at this moment, the mirror became a truly magnificent beast.

Two bodies entwined in a lover’s embrace.

Every detail was laid bare in exquisite detail, and this outcome was entirely your doing. Slender fingers with midnight nails flexed deliberately into your jaw, testing the strength you had long known against the delicate frame of your mortal body. The angle forced you to stare straight ahead, to witness what was happening to you in such clarity it stole the little air remaining from your lungs.

“You wanted this, did you not?” He lilted with an air of amusement that curled your toes. “I believe you were rather forthright with your desires this evening, at least you were once I coaxed them out of you.”

Sebastian Michaelis, the head butler and right-hand man to your father was a demon. As the eldest daughter in the family and well into your twenties, you were an anomaly to your father. He would have married you off years ago if it weren’t for your ability to chase away every suitor that called. The only person who had been able to get close to you was Sebastian if you could even call him a person. Except, you liked that he wasn’t human—humans were boring.

You cared not for whatever mysterious and demonic bond had been formed between him and your father. All that mattered was that he saw the real you beneath the prickly exterior you presented to the world. It had taken many months of flirtatious glances, heated whispers promising you all manner of carnal pleasure and touches that only grew in intimacy, but you considered Sebastian to be your lover for close to half a year now.

The only problem… he treated you with kid gloves.

“Sebastian… You know, it would be okay if you held me a bit tighter. If you wish to, that is.”

That was what had started it all, the words that led to this path of twisted pleasure. 

You recalled the delicate touch of white-gloved fingers, how they curled around your biceps to draw you into his lap. His carefully fastened tie and top buttons were messily undone by your hasty fingers and his midnight hair was just the tiniest bit dishevelled from where you had brushed through it.

The demon gently pawing at you was more than capable of tearing people apart with his hands, the white of his gloves rarely soiled by the crimson remnants of the deaths he bestowed, and yet he held you as if you were fine china. Didn’t he know that the times you bore witness to his feats of strength had resulted in ruined undergarments beneath your gown? He was a sight to behold, tall and lithe with a presence that demanded respect despite being a servant by occupation. What you wouldn’t give for him to direct some of that power and strength towards you, on those intimate late-night visits to your quarters.

“But, my dear, you are so soft. I wouldn’t wish to hurt you.” The sentiment was huffed into the sweet crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning across your skin whilst he smeared lazy, wet kisses to your jaw and the pulse hammering beneath the surface. It sounded almost bemused, and that irritated you.

You were no porcelain doll only to be taken out when it suited and arranged delicately upon pristine sheets. You were no silly girl. You were a woman, goddammit, and you wished above all else to be treated as such. Apparently, your expression gave away your frustration, either that or Sebastion was simply well-tuned to the emotions swirling in your complex mind.

“Have I said something wrong, darling girl?”

With today’s gown laid neatly atop your dresser, the petticoats beneath bunched around your thighs and hips, you sat back on your haunches to glower at him. His finger idled with the lace fastens of your bodice, doing little to stop you from moving away from his embrace.

A petulant huff passed your lips, arms folded across your chest, and his easy smile dimmed in response. It should have been your first warning, but ire had a way of dulling your senses to danger. 

“I will remind you that I am not made of glass, nor will I break if you…” The remaining words of your tirade seemed to become stuck in the back of your throat as your gaze met with Sebastian’s. The subtle carmine of his irises caught fire, glowing coals of ember that spoke of something… unknown? Worryingly unknown.

Maybe you had misspoken, your tone a little more harsh than you intended but it was too late to remedy. Your shoulders sagged, your body deflating rapidly from the hot air that filled you only moments ago. 

The room charged with electricity, you could feel it press atop your head like a physical manifestation of a weight trying to crush you against your bedspread. Something was most assuredly wrong and it wouldn’t be long before you found out the consequences of your little outburst.

“If I what?” he hissed from between gritted teeth, white and gleaming.

Your eyes snapped to his face, and the stark lines of displeasure traced his cheekbones and brow. No longer were you gazing into the face of Sebastian, your lover, this was the demon that lurked beneath. The one you longed for and were going to suffer his wrath no matter if you tried to back peddle or not.

He sat up straight with a start, forcing you further back and almost tumbling you right out of his lap. A palm anchored around your wrist, tightening against the fragile tendons until they nearly popped and wrenching you forward until you were nose to nose. His breathing was harsh, your own picking up pace to match it perfectly. For a moment you thought he would speak but after many moments of staring back and forth, he pushed back and looked towards the periphery. 

With a precision no man or demon should have, he caught the fingertip of his virginal white gloves between his teeth and slowly pulled each one free in turn. You squirmed watching him reveal his hands, the intricate design that you always did your best to ignore caught your attention but it was quickly stolen away.

That same hand shot forward to wrap around your hair, yanking on the length in one swift motion until your roots tugged painfully and your throat bared in front of his eyes. The breathless whine you expressed sounded truly pathetic, only matched by the arousal pooling in your underwear.

“Hm, so you won’t break if I do this?”

Sebastian reared back and bit around the slender column of your throat, not enough to break the skin but it hurt—it hurt bad enough to spark tears in your eyes. The sweep of his hot, wet tongue licked across the mark he made, tracing the indents his teeth had created along with a low grunt that sounded from the depths of his chest.

Cool, nimble fingers reached into the front of your bodice, teasing against your heated flesh before rending the garment clean in two. The noise of expensive fabric ripping thundered in the room and you gasped at the sudden chill covering your naked breasts. 

It was hard to navigate the sudden flip in his demeanour, although you had all but asked for it. You braced your trembling hands over the lapels of his double-breasted jacket in an attempt to find grounding and solace, but there was none to be found. It appeared that your demon lover was bowing to your whims, you should be pleased, and yet there was a beat of trepidation in your heart. What had you let yourself in for?

As if sensing your wayward conviction, Sebastian moved with alarming ease to the edge of the bed. It was evident that your added weight meant nothing to him, and that alone made you moan into the shell of his ear.

He placed you down in a puffy cloud of your petticoats and stood to shrug out of his jacket and waistcoat but annoyingly left his shirt in place. It didn’t stop you from ogling him openly, knowing what lay beneath even if it was rare to spend the night with him completely nude.

A finger and thumb pinched into the fat of your cheeks, lifting your gaze from the blatant lust-filled staring to meet his eyes that had mellowed to a sparkling fuschia. He was so pretty, so devastatingly pretty that you clung to his wrist, blinking up at him with heat-filled cheeks.

“You will direct your eyes up here, and wherever I instruct, is that clear?”

Only when he was satisfied he had captured your attention and you had given your clear understanding did he release the grip of his fingers, settling beside you. He patted his lap in invitation and you were crawling before he could even raise a sleek black eyebrow.

Smooth palms decorated your sides, pausing to grope your breasts. Sebastian exhaled a laugh when the excess spill from your breasts squished between his splayed fingers, pebbled nipples grazing the hearts of his palms. You whined and rocked against the bulge beneath his tailored trousers, only feeding the frenzy of his wandering hands and how roughly he was exploring your smooth skin. It was a perfect storm of demonic lust and ardent excitement, the result of which resided in the pit of your stomach. You were drooling between your thighs, flushed by the thought of it and you knew he’d tease you when he discovered how wet you were.

“A needy little thing, aren’t you? Darling, surely you aren’t this desperate for my cock?” His hand was beneath the plumes of petticoats, zeroing in on your soaked panties before you could blink. Sebastian tsked whilst his finger stroked the sizeable wet stain that traced the length of your slit. “Deary me, you’re already soaked. One might think that this side of me excites you.”

Without warning, he bounced you from his knee, your feet found the plush rug by your bed but your balance was not to be trusted and you were thankful for the firm hands at your waist keeping you steady. That was until those ruthless hands were twisted in your petticoats and tugging them down your legs to pool around your twisting feet, followed by the sudden removal of the final piece of clothing.

You tried to shield your modesty–an arm slung across your breasts and a hand cupping your sex whilst stepping out of your panties when suddenly you were dwarfed by Sebastian’s taller frame. He appeared even taller than usual, though you weren’t sure if it was an illusion aided by the long shadows cast by the candles on your bedside.

A mere flick of his wrist and your hand dislodged from protecting your decency. He stepped right into your personal space to force his hand exactly where yours had once been and began to dig deeper. Your nails scrambled against the stiff white starch of his shirt, blinking up at him much too fast whilst he took no care to spread you apart with his fingers.

“A-ah, Sebastian!”

Again, he tsked you and clicked his tongue against his teeth in admonishment when a slick covered finger rose into your vision, sparking a fresh wave of heat in every inch of your body.

“Clean it off like a good girl,” he cooed, his voice dripping in honeyed sweetness that you did not trust.

This was not something you had participated in before, but you were determined to meet the challenge in his eyes and earn a sliver of praise that would bow your spine. The taste was surprisingly sweet, a little heavy on your tastebuds but you sucked the long digit between your lips and twirled your tongue around and around to better understand why Sebastian so loved to lay between your thighs and indulge.

He patted your head affectionately, lowering his hand to caress your cheek and smirked when you turned your face to press a kiss to his palm. Unknown to you his attention had snared on the standing mirror in the far corner of your bedroom, eyeing it with first curiosity and then wicked amusement.

You were uncertain why he was interested in the mirror, leaving you by the bed naked and vulnerable, to examine the gold-gilded frame and moving it with ease towards you. What on Earth..?

“What are you–?”

Sebastian cut you off, turning you roughly and sitting with you on full display for the mirror. It made you uncomfortable to see yourself this exposed, you barely looked at yourself in this state whilst bathing or dressing so to see the thick strands of lust hanging from your parted lips was jarring. A sensation writhed in your chest, a mixture of embarrassment mingling with a little pride. Your demon that stared from over your shoulder was here of his own free will, no contract or binding bid him to your side and that was an empowering thought.

He chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to your flushed cheek. “I am merely doing what you asked of me. You wished me to hold you tighter and be used like a pretty whore for the night, so I am doing just that.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Ah, but you may as well have, my darling. Your body speaks far more readily than your mouth and I can hear it loud and clear.”

Before he had finished speaking, his thumb found your eager little pearl, stroking around and around in maddening circles without touching it directly. Sebastian shuffled beneath you and you felt the blunt tip of his cock trace along your cunt for the first time that night. 

A thread of power pulled through the length of your spine, straightening it and you knew deep down that it was his doing. Your eyes flickered to his blazing ones, biting your lip enough to cause blood to bead. A heated kiss cleaned the offending crimson from your plump bottom lip. The scene was like nothing you could ever dream of. No book or play could conjure such images. It was enough for sweat to roll from your temples and he hadn’t even slipped inside yet.

“Can you see what I see?” He cooed, stroking the curve of your jaw with his thumb.

You weren’t sure you did. Sure, you were a carnal feast for the eyes but wouldn’t any woman be in this position? Evidently, he disliked your silent uncertainty.

“A strong woman who stood against her family and chose to take a demon as a lover instead of marrying into dazzling wealth.”

Your chin rose as the words hit home, the cool ferocity of his tone enough to make you clench around nothing but air and the promise of what was to come.

“You are mine. No one else could hope to take you from me. I speak these words now and I will die by them. Mine. Do you understand?”

Nodding weakly, you watched his features twist in the reflection of the mirror. The desperate hunger and possession stoked the fires of the demon. It was at that moment that he pushed the bulging tip into your leaking cunt, pushing deeper past the tight ring of muscles with an exalted sigh of triumph. Sebastian held you still, fingers gripping the meat at your waist to prevent you from trying to run from the stretch you were sure to be experiencing.

It only took one forceful rut of his hips to sheath himself halfway, forcing your silken walls apart, to accept him as you always did. The remaining air from your lungs expired from the sudden pressure and overwhelming feeling of fullness.

Steady hands braced on the inside of your knees to prevent you from closing your thighs and it only made your whimpers sound all the more desperate. You were met with a warning growl directed into your ear, fiery pain following from the sharp teeth that tore at your shoulder until the marks were clear in the watery image in the mirror.

You blinked through tears, struggling in the clutches of a beast you had never mated with before. This was different, and you knew that when he stroked himself to the hilt in your cunt, he felt bigger, wider even, and the tip of his cock knocked painfully at your cervix.

It was near impossible to keep your eyes open, not when they were filled with unspilled tears and your head and heart were pounding from the lack of movement. Scrunching your eyes closed was natural when all you wanted to do was roll your hips and surrender to the build of friction but you couldn’t.

“Watch.” He demanded, wetting two fingers in his mouth and smacking them against your jumping clit as punishment for daring to close your eyes. “This is what you wanted and you’ll see just how rough I can be.”

Here you were. Nude and being used for pleasure. Wrapped in a strong embrace that forced you to witness what you had brought about. Expert fingers pinched at your tender nipples and rolled the taut buds between finger and thumb whilst the other hand abused your puffy clit.

Your body trembled as another orgasm neared–you had no idea what number this one was and it certainly wasn’t the first.

“Oh. Oh, fuck.”

The words tumbled out in velvet tones, eliciting a dark chuckle from Sebastian. He delighted when you cussed, knowing that your usual etiquette was entirely lost and your decency stolen away by how he fucked your pliant body.

With every new wave of pleasure, you understood more and more about the monster holding you tight and you didn’t believe you could love him any more than you did right now. He could destroy you without so much as breaking a sweat and yet he chose to hold you like this. Yes, it was rougher than ever before but you knew there was still a gentleness to his ministrations.

This demon had found a mortal interesting enough that for the first time in his long existence, he had no desire to ever see his contract fulfilled. 

His pistoning hips stopped; twitching cockhead buried against your cervix and the pulsing veins that ran the length of his thick shaft throbbed for release. He had assaulted the softy tissue buried behind your clit for long enough, it was time for him to find release too.

You were witnessing the birth of a million stars–a fucking cosmos--behind your eyelids as Sebastian massaged your insides in slow, deliberate circles. Every time you found the reflection in the mirror and met his potent stare, it made you whimper and rut even harder against him.

He was close, you could feel it with every laboured breath at the nape of your marked neck.

“What a picture you make, my dear, one I would love to hang in my room. You are all blissed out and ready for me to spill. Should I cum inside or paint your pretty stomach?”

Your head fell to his shoulder, and for the first time, he let you take your eyes off the show in front of you. Instead, he narrated it to you and that was almost worse. The seductive silky smooth tone of his words heated your blood beyond the boiling point.

“Oh my... look at this thick creamy ring around my cock… I could watch your pretty pussy drool over me all day.”

With a final shove of his hips, jets of heat coated your walls and you were spared from the embarrassment of begging for him to cum inside you. Sebastian grunted into your neck, the sensation of his hot mouth on your skin and the continued lazy pumps deep in your cunt tripped you over the cliff edge and into freefall.

Boneless, panting and mind blank except for the pleasure, your dazed eyes lifted to stare at the mirror.

Hair as black as a starless sky fell over your shoulder, strong arms clinging to your midriff and a mixture of viscous arousal dripped from between your trembling thighs.

Flushed and shivering, you bit your lip at the sight—your demon in the mirror.

[dez78]

Tav's Gift

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

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Warnings: None. Just fluff.

Pairings: Astarion x Fem!Reader

Summary: You give Astarion the ultimate gift. The gift of sight through your eyes.

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

You sat by the fire with your companions, when you noticed Astarion missing. You didn't have to look far, you peered over your shoulder and saw him, looking into his hand mirror. You furrowed your brow and stood.

You approached him slowly. Given he was invisible, he saw your reflection immediately. He sighed,

"It's been two hundred years, you know." He said to her, you were quiet.

"Two hundred years, since I've seen my face. I don't even know what I look like. Not since my eyes turned red and I grew fangs." Astarion explained solemnly. Your brows knitted together in empathy.

Astarion got frustrated and spun around to face you.

"I wished there was some way, I could see myself again. My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I lost." He said as he angrily threw the mirror to the ground. You grew bold and spoke,

"You have nothing to worry about, it's a very good face." You told him.

"Is it? What do you see when you look at me?" Astarion questioned, hopeful. You approached him and stared into his eyes; you took in every detail of his face.

"What?" Astarion asked curiously.

"I see you." You replied,

"And what do you see, exactly?" Astarion questioned you.

"I'll be your mirror, what do you want to know?" You asked him. Astarion didn't even hesitate to respond.

"I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see."

"Strong, piercing eyes." You started, Astarion smiled,

"Oh, go on." He said.

"That dangerous smile." You purred, Astarion held his head high.

"Very good. Now just tell me I'm beautiful and we can call it a day." Astarion said boldly.

"You're beautiful Astarion." You replied in a honeyed voice, Astarion looked emotional for a brief moment before sticking his nose up.

"Observant."

"Mirrors aren't much use, but being reflected in someone else's eyes?" Astarion explained,

"Well, I could do worse." He added.

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

Months had passed on, You and Astarion were lovers at this point, the Shadow Cursed Lands tainted everyone's morality in the party.

Astarion laid in bed, reading a book. You were lying next to him, your head on his chest as she made small circles across his skin with your fingers.

"Do you remember our mirror conversation?" You asked suddenly, Astarion looked down at you.

"How could I forget? You called me beautiful." He teased playfully. You looked up,

"I found a way." You said, Astarion cocked his brow at you.

"To show you, your face through my eyes." You explained. Now you had his attention,

"Truly?" He questioned with wide eyes. He set his book down and the two of you sat up together.

You took a deep breath and held Astarion's hands in yours. Both of you closed your eyes and you pushed into Astarion's mind with the help of your tadpoles.

Before he knew it, Astarion was looking at himself. He gasped audibly.

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

"I'll be your mirror, what do you want to know?" You asked him. Astarion didn't even hesitate to respond.

"I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see."

"Strong, piercing eyes." You started, Astarion smiled,

"Oh, go on." He said.

"That dangerous smile." You purred, Astarion held his head high.

"Very good. Now just tell me I'm beautiful and we can call it a day." Astarion said boldly.

"You're beautiful Astarion." You said in a honeyed voice, Astarion looked emotional for a brief moment before sticking his nose up.

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

Astarion saw his piercing ruby eyes, his delicate features, and his tuffs of silver hair. He was truly seeing himself and better yet, he was seeing himself through his lover's eyes. The woman he cherished more than anything in the world.

It was a beautiful miracle. That made the vampire tear up.

You pulled away from him, both of you opened your eyes.

"That was truly remarkable, please, show me more." Astarion told you, you chuckled.

"Anything for my beautiful star." You said, Astarion cracked a genuine smile as he took your hands once more.

[inoreuct]

would you agree that we all need more Sanji getting nosebleeds over Zoro in this fandom?

YES *pelting down a hill waving the proposal for this in my hand like a madman* YESSSSSS

the first time sanji gets a nosebleed over zoro is his clue-in that oh. i’m not straight, am i. the swordsman’s doing a bench press (shirtless, as always) as sanji walks by (and sanji sneaks a look, as always, because who wouldn’t?) and when he glances over the plates he has to do a double take because what the fuck. zoro’s pressing more than twice his body weight. zoro’s repping more than twice his body weight. he’s just registered that maybe he’s stared for a bit too long when he feels something warm and wet on his upper lip, iron dripping over his mouth, and he books it for the galley.

he slams the door shut and presses his back against it before he slides to the ground and screams into his knees because what. the fuck. it’s not even that he’s getting hot and bothered over a guy; it’s just that the guy’s zoro. he’s not supposed to get nosebleeds over zoro.

but he does.

and it gets worse.

zoro walking around shirtless on deck? nosebleed. zoro re-tying the sails and just hanging on with his legs around the mast? nosebleed. zoro strutting out of the shower door, damp with steam and hair dripping wet and a towel around his waist? nosebleed. zoro tsking irritably and grabbing all of sanji’s food and packages from him to haul the whole lot over his shoulder? NOSEBLEED.

and not even that. he starts getting breathless around zoro and his chest hurts. he kicks zoro back while they’re sparring one day and the swordsman grins, feral and unrestrained and all challenge and teeth, and sanji’s heart spasms so hard that he actually wonders if he’s about to go into cardiac arrest. he’s barely twenty, he isn’t ready to die— much less because of some stupid marimo. chiselled abs and a nice set of biceps are only worth so much of sanji’s dignity. he twists and smashes the sole of his shoe right into zoro’s pretty face.

still, it gets so, so bad that he’s elected to just. avoid zoro completely. he’s sneaking around corners and running across open expanses ducked low like some kind of goofy thief and he knows it’s so fucking stupid but he doesn’t. he doesn’t know if zoro likes— no. he doesn’t even think about it. there’s no way, and if he gives himself false hope he’ll just break his own heart. he doesn’t know if zoro likes men, or anyone, much less him; nobody in their right mind would, not really. he's nice to have but not to keep and he's come to terms with it.

…until zoro corners him in the galley and demands to know what the fuck’s going on.

sanji stays facing away, slowly washing the dishes even as his heart pounds so hard it hurts. he is painfully aware of the way zoro’s seething like an over-boiled kettle in one of the chairs behind him, arms crossed over his stupidly broad chest and stock-still because he never, ever shakes his leg even though sanji knows he wants to.

his sponge squeaks across ceramic. the water’s warm against his fingertips, and his eyes flick up to meet his own reflection in the porthole window; he looks… well, he doesn’t know. scared, maybe. nervous. his mouth is thin, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, a shudder running its fingers down his spine even as his heartbeat thumps between his ribs and god, fuck, it aches. and he knows. he looks himself in the eyes and he knows that somewhere along the line nosebleeds had turned into falling in love and he was the stupid idiot who had just let it happen because he was too weak to pry zoro out of his thoughts.

his gaze flicks down sharply when he hears the sudden scrape of the chair, and zoro spits, “look, i can’t fix whatever i did wrong if you don’t tell me what it is.”

sanji’s heart throbs. “what?”

he can hear zoro’s scowl. “what, what? i obviously did something. you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

the cook almost laughs. he bites it down and swallows his words, salty-sweet at the back of his throat. guilt nips at him; zoro’s his rival and and his personal annoyance and a blockhead but he might also, maybe, just maybe, be sanji’s best friend. and sanji hasn’t been very fair to him lately.

he swallows again, clears his throat silently. “you didn’t do anything, marimo,” he murmurs to the plate in his hands, trying for airy and getting more somewhat vaguely strangled. he coughs. “just forget about it. sorry i’ve been weird.”

sanji will deal. he will, somehow; he’d been careless and careless is dangerous and for perhaps the first time in his life, he has too much to lose. he’ll squash his heart into a box and lock it down tight like he always has and it’ll hurt, but when does it ever not? he mentally declares the matter done and dusted as he shakes off the plate and gently sets it on the drying rack.

his lungs hitch as a callused hand cups his elbow.

zoro pulls him around. he’s too weak to resist. the edge of the sink digs into his hip as stormy grey eyes scan his face and zoro looks tense, his jaw set in the way it only is when he faces off with a particularly vexing foe.

“did i not look happy enough at dinner?" he asks, and it could be mockery but it isn't, not with that edge to his voice; not desperation, but damn near. like filter paper burning its way to ash. "was it my clothes on the floor? my boots on the bed? what?”

sanji can't stand it anymore. he looks away, tries to twist out of the invisible bonds zoro has him trapped in, but fingers looped around his wrist are all it takes to make him stay and fuck, fuck, he's so fucked.

"sanji, what did i do?” zoro breathes, brow furrowed, voice too near and too damn earnest, and sanji's throat bobs as he digs the heel of his palm into his eye.

this isn't how it's supposed to go. zoro isn't supposed to care. zoro isn't supposed to be standing here in the galley saying his name in that tone of voice. a hand carefully pulls his own away from his face, and zoro doesn't fucking let go, and sanji feels too much like he's been stripped down to the bone.

"i know," zoro continues, gruff like he doesn't know how to be anything else, "that i upset you. so would you please tell me what i did so i can fix it?" he bends lower still, ducking to try and catch sanji’s line of sight but sanji just can't look at him. "i'll fix it, i—"

"you can't fix this." the words are out and in the air before he can stop them, and a bittersweet smile curves his mouth. "there's nothing to fix, so you can't fix it. just let it go, alright?"

zoro wants to argue. sanji can tell. but the swordsman lets out a measured exhale after a long moment and pulls back, face carefully neutral. "at least tell me what's going on, cook."

sanji looks down at his feet. "...i can't."

"like hell you can't," zoro replies immediately, and it's such an abrupt reminder of their normal banter that it wrenches a rough noise from sanji's chest. "i was the one who held your hair back after you had, like, seven margaritas too many. don't think you could tell me anything worse than the experience of trying to stop you from falling into your own puke."

"oh, jesus fuck," sanji swears on instinct, then laughs. it's unfortunately hollow. "that was one time, asshole."

"one time too many," zoro hums, raising an eyebrow. "so you gonna tell me what's going on, or do i have to make it a captain's order?"

sanji grits his teeth.

"i will drag luffy in here, i don't care—"

"fucking—" he holds his breath, flipping around to white-knuckle the edge of the sink and letting it out slow. "fine. you ever loved someone, marimo?"

"sure." zoro shrugs easily, crossing his arms as he looks out the window. "kuina, but i think i learned to love her memory more than anything else. luffy, nami—" a near-unnoticeable flutter of thick lashes. "you."

sanji exhales through his nose as he rocks back on his heels. squeezes out air till it hurts. "you know that's not what i meant."

"what did you mean, then?"

he turns to look at where zoro has settled lazily against the counter, the moon turning his eyes to silver. "I mean the kind of love that makes your blood race. that makes you want more even when you know you'll never take more than you're allowed. the kind that makes your heart hurt so badly you feel empty without it."

the swordsman's face is unreadable as he tilts his head slowly. "i did say i love you."

it hits sanji like a bullet. he sucks in a sharp breath, and his throat burns as he turns away and tries to stop his shoulders from heaving up. "don't fuck with me, zoro. not about this."

it feels rather like a cruel cosmic joke. he's so near yet so far, just one step away with a gauzy curtain between but he can't touch it. he won't. he's got too many things on the line and yet he can't even name one of them.

"hey."

he squeezes his eyes shut against the burn of salt that shouldn't even be there, and look at that. little sanji's gone and broken his own heart again.

"hey," zoro tries again, more insistent, one hand hovering in the space between them and sanji feels the pull of it like a magnet.

he doesn't turn away as it cups his cheek. doesn't run as fingers slide through the short hairs at his nape, a thumb behind his jaw. his lashes are damp. it is everything he wants and everything he cannot have and he can't—

"look at me."

"i can't," he breathes, lungs rising fast and shallow. he's afraid to open his eyes. he's afraid of what he'll see.

"yes, you can." zoro shifts closer and another hand joins the first. it's big and rough and warm and he holds sanji's face like he's the moon herself. "look at me, curly."

he can't.

he does.

zoro's gaze is almost painful to meet straight-on with how intense it is. he seems to realise, face softening as he leans closer, closer, posture loose enough that it would be no problem for sanji to shove him away. "you love me," he breathes. "yes or no?"

sanji's heart stops. his tongue is clumsy in his mouth, his brain a mess of yesnoyesyesnoiwon'tican’tido—

"don't think." zoro's voice cuts through the haze as he shakes his head slowly; a sword through smoke, silver-bright, singing in the air and leaving silence. "don't think. you love me, yes or no."

the galley swims around sanji as his vision blurs. he feels his tears spill hot down his cheek, knows the way zoro aches to brush them away and yet stays still. he opens his mouth and it feels like stepping out of the only shelter he's ever known; he is an open fucking wound and he's raw and everything hurts, everything but zoro. zoro. zoro. "yes."

just one word, three simple letters, and still it feels like damnation; if he'd never said it he could deny it but now it's real. the swordsman relaxes, shoulders dropping enough that his forehead brushes sanji's, and sanji tracks the way his throat bobs. the way steel-grey eyes flicker over his face, molten in the light of the electric lamps and the moonlight spilling through the window, gilding zoro like something out of a dream. a fairytale sanji read as a child until the edges of the pages fitted familiar to his thumbs as his little hands reached for a happy ending that was never meant to be his.

he shakes, now, as zoro reaches up to run tentative fingers through straw-pale hair. "let me love you. yes or no."

"i—" the sound that twists from his mouth is cracked jagged down the middle, unpolished as a common pebble picked up off the damn street. "you don't—"

"yes or no."

"i'm not what you want," he gasps, his face wet.

"yes or no."

sanji wants to break apart. because zoro sounds like he's begging, and he cannot fathom anybody possibly wanting him that much. he wants to scream and cry and claw at the walls until his nails break. he wants to shatter into pieces all over the floor without having to worry about putting himself back together. he wants. he wants, and zoro's looking at him with the closest thing to reverence he's seen in his life, and even that isn't enough for him to believe it. "i'm not what you want."

he can barely look at zoro. he can barely look at himself. the shame is clawing a pit into his stomach, and he lets it, feels every inch of it, because what kind of person doesn't know how to be loved? his breath catches wetly as zoro cups his jaw in both hands, tilting his face up, and once again sanji is too weak to pull away.

"you are everything i want."

the words are so fierce, so sure, and sanji is cracking apart at the seams. the stitches pulled tight by his own hand are unravelling and he can't stop it—

"yes or no."

zoro's breath ghosts warm across his mouth, fingertips in his hair, just far away enough for sanji to see the way his eyes are blazing and yet he waits. his thumb on sanji's cheek is the gentlest thing sanji has ever known.

"you'll get tired of me," he tries weakly, one last time for good measure, and zoro just shakes his head. the resolve in his expression does not waver even once.

sanji breaks.

"yes." the word scrapes itself out of his throat seconds before arms are going around him, and he sobs. lets the swordsman bring them both to the kitchen floor as he curls up in zoro's lap, fingers clawing into his white shirt, numb with how hard he cries because nobody, nobody has ever stayed. not without him getting hurt in the process. he pushes them away when he gets scared and they let him and then it becomes his fault when it all blows up in his face, but zoro's not leaving, and it's so foreign to him that he's shaking so badly and he can't stop.

a warm, heavy palm smooths over his spine and he lets himself be shifted closer, settles sideways as zoro wraps an arm over his shins and rocks them until his breathing evens out. the embarrassment hits like a gut punch; he knows he looks like a mess, face blotchy and hair everywhere and eyes puffy as hell, but zoro cards his bangs out of his eyes and looks at him like he doesn't care, and sanji turns away.

he feels... fragile. like he's made of tinted glass and spun sugar, like he'll cave in at the slightest touch. there is something melting in his chest and it drips down over his ribs; pools fresh as a river in spring, offset by the grounding presence of zoro's hands on his skin. "don't say i didn't warn you," he mumbles, masking his very real fear behind a layer of watery bravado as he hides his face in zoro's shoulder, and of course, of course zoro sees right through him.

the swordsman's thumb traces the swirl of his eyebrow before zoro rests his chin on top of sanji's head. "i don’t listen. you know that."

you know me, is what goes unsaid, and sanji doesn't deign to reply. he buries his face into zoro's chest and breathes in the smell of steel and sword oil and— he sits up slightly, eyes narrowing. "you've been stealing my deodorant, yes or no." the way zoro stills momentarily is a dead giveaway, and he yelps when the swordsman flicks his forehead.

"would you rather i be stinky?" zoro scoffs, rolling his eyes gently as sanji settles back down with a huff.

"you still are stinky. if we're gonna be together i'm expecting you to shower at least once every two days—" zoro groans, and he powers through, raising his voice, "—and if you aren't fussy i'll let you shower with me."

the way zoro instantly stops complaining cracks a laugh out of him. it's weak and watered-down, but it's a start. zoro's hands slide back into his hair and he hums as he lets his eyes fall shut.

the moon's full tonight. their ship rocks gently, and sanji gets comfortable; zoro's warm and solid and happens to make a perfectly respectable pillow. the thought that he can have this now sends a thrill through him.

he's not a fool. he's not optimistic when it comes to this. when it comes to love.

but with zoro's thumb rubbing mindless circles against the side of his thigh and a kiss pressed to the top of his head, he's got a pretty good feeling about this time around.

[simp-ly-writes]

The Bodyguard

─────── · · THE GENTLEMEN (2024)

PAIRING: Bodyguard!Edward "Eddie" Horniman x Fem!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Your parents decide with your recent party-heavy behaviour that you are in need of an adult babysitter- or as they call it a bodyguard.

─ · · WARNINGS: contract relationship, child neglect, anxiety attacks, overall angst with fluff

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,112

─ · · A/N: Find it funny how many posts I see complain about "small fandoms" then you have The Gentlemen (2024). I need more people to talk to about this show...

─────── · ·

Up until now, you were always by yourself. In school you struggled to make friends and the few that you still kept in contact with were set with quarterly interactions. The large house you resided in empty besides the few staff that maintained the estate- they were disgusted by the lifestyle you lived- or rather, how they thought you lived.

You got used to not having your parents home, on having no one to ask you how your day went, if you ate that night and what your plans were later that week. The statue collection soon became your greatest confidants, the gallery your absolute favourite room to take lunch in beside the garden when the weather was acceptable.

In all the assets you held, the clothes all still new with tags on in the closet, the endless rows of wine bottles in the basement that your teenage self drowned in and the hedge maze you lost yourself in even when knowing where every exit and secret nook and cranny of. It was plastic happiness, just shiny objects staring back at you and reflecting upon yourself.

You tried to loose yourself in the high life just as every other member of your family did. Sleeping with actors and musicians alike, forcing yourself into yoga classes with young rich wives that only used their manicured nails to pierce each others skin behind doors. It was when you were reaching your late twenties that your parents took notice of your failing public image as you stumbled out of cabs, got caught in multiple scandals only because you were affecting their businesses.

And thats how you found yourself no longer alone but with an adult babysitter, or how your parents described it- a bodyguard.

─────── · ·

"I am old enough to take care of myself, I hate no need for someone to follow me around-" you started to say, your nails digging into your palms as anger started to swell into your eyes in unshed tears of frustration. A younger version of yourself would have been jumping out of joy for having company- your mature self only realizing how much having someone with you would only be added weight.

"Well it is too late for your opinion, the contract has already been finalized and settled, now he is waiting for you by the car. Please, don't make a further embarrassment of the family name," your mother concluded, already turning away from you and walking down the overwhelmingly bare and white hallway. Her heels clacking to a still as you picked up your voice in retaliation.

"How am I much more of an embarrassment than your lack of care or Cousin Simon's multi-day ragers! What about father's multiple hook-ups, or Jacklyns-"

"ENOUGH! I am sick and tired of your incessant whining since you were a child- you are a spoiled little thing since you were born. I gave you everything you could have wanted: books, toys, clothes, sports, and yet you throw all of my hard work aside for what- your constant need for attention? Your new bodyguard will give you everything you ever wanted- be grateful for once in your life and go- now."

The tears now endlessly poured down your cheeks, your breathing rapid, in-takes frequent as you stumbled outside the office space. Your vision was blurry, hands shaking and make-up now a mess as you threw yourself into the car without a second thought.

A detailed handkerchief was soon presented in front of your face as your eyes narrowed in confusion. Turning your gaze to the side and up an attractive man stared back at you. Brown curls framed his eyes paired with slim black frames for glasses. His beard was freshly cut, stubble poking out across his cheeks and chin as he offered you a polite smile at the time you took to analyze him and the well-tailored suit that fitted his tall form.

Cheeks feeling warm, you pitifully chuckled to yourself and took the napkin, opening up your handbag to find a compact mirror as you readjusted yourself. Satisfied you thought of handing the piece of cloth back before decided otherwise, the man noticed your hesitating hand with a brief chuckle before responding, "I can take it back later, are you doing better now miss?"

Still struggling to find your voice to signal your shock, grief, and anger after the interaction with your mother- you forced a nod before looking out the window. Your shoulders only rising as anxiety coated every goosebump on your skin. The man opened and closed his mouth a few times, debating with himself to continue conversation before decided to continue the ride home in silence- much to your approval.

─────── · ·

A few weeks into having your bodyguard, who you found to be named Edward- Eddie he insisted you called him with how much time your spent alongside one another. You tried to forget he was there as you continued your schedule, taking breakfast in bed as he stood outside your door to take you down to the car.

You would then head to your morning yoga classes. He would stand near the door, your water bottle and bag in hand as multiple of the said-to-be-married women tried to coax him into their beds with fake eyelash flutters and tight-fitting clothes yet he would keep his gaze forward. Eyes only snapping to your own as he greeted you with a pleasant smile, asked you how your session went and provided you with the materials in hand before leading you out once more.

Next, a walk around downtown and a visit to the local galleries, two steps behind you he walks was, you could see his shadow overtaking your own on the floor as you talked with the curators- wondering if you could add to your parents (now practically your own) growing collection before heading back home for lunch among the paintings or flowers.

You would insist on Edward- Eddie, to sit across from you. A guilty part eating away at yourself for having someone to join your little glass prison as you offered food of your plate only to be denied. "I will take care of myself once knowing you are fully taken care of miss, now please enjoy your meal- act as if I am not here as you usually do."

When you first met him, you failed to realize how comforting his baritone voice sounded in your ears. How heavy he made each word feel as they draped a blanket of calmness of yourself in reassurance. Offering him a smile in silent thanks, he raised a brow in question to your reaction yet continued just as he asked- chipping away at your meal before turning in early for the day.

─────── · ·

He was protective, you noted to yourself- maybe even bridging on overprotective as his eyes followed your shining form in that dress across the bar top and towards the dance floor as you met up with nepo-babies and start-up engineers alike.

You danced in twirled, a smile fighting its way across Edwards face as he took in your radiant smile as you drifted in between the sea of sweaty bodies and pumping music. The strobe lights had him seeing double before clarity soon coated his vision alongside red as a man felt of your backside. He watched you politely smile, your shoulders crawling upwards, your spine twisting into itself as you tried to raise the mans touch to a more respectable level before looking for a way out once realizing he was not taking the hint.

Edward walked through the people as the crowd parted for him with his determined steps. His hand gripped the mans, his head flipping over to catch the glare in his stare levelling his own. "More along," Edward said in a firm tone leaving no room for question- or what you both thought. The man smirked up at your bodyguard, a laugh erupting in his throat as he leaved in closer a finger pressing at Edwards chest. "And who are you to tell me off, the girls single so you need back the fuck off man- I got to her first."

"And it seems even though you were first, you are the last person she wants to be with right now. I ask you again to leave or I will show you out, your choice," Edward replied. His head and tone dipping towards the shorted man as you looked in between the two. Not knowing weather to jump the man for touching you or to jump your bodyguard for the vein budging from his neck. Your stomach soon decided for you as you leaned into Edwards side, face pressing into his arm, "I want to go home now, I feel like shit."

"Alright miss," and with one last glare towards the man, he wrapped his jacket around yourself as you fell back into and out of your party lifestyle once realizing he was not going to leave your side and also realized just how much his gaze on you made you feel like a teenage girl once again.

Butterflies in your stomach, skin hot and eyes wide as you stared up at him in a drunken daze. You felt his hand on your cheeks as he inspected your face, catching on your nose as some residue still sat on its tip. Wiping it off with his thumb before calling up your driver. He sat with you the whole ride home as you snuggled into his side with your hazed babbles.

Once exiting the car, you swore to feel the need of puking- the next moment he was holding your hair back, rubbing your back as you emptied your stomach into the front bushes.

You don't know how you made it into your bed the next day, or slipped out of your heels and took your hair out of its style in your drunken state. Yet you celebrated yourself by taking a bath that morning before getting lost in the warm waters that soon turned into cold realization. You couldn't look at your bodyguard for the next week without doing your best to speedily walk away from him, or turn your head when he asked about your itinerary.

You hated how much you smiled when hearing his chuckle at your antics, reminding you it was all part of the job. And you equally hated the disappointment your heart felt when he mentioned your time together was a contracted one.

─────── · ·

You soon became obsessed with taking in every detail of this man. How after you asked where his glasses went on that first day had returned the next. How he fixed them every time you laughed at a snide comment he made, joining your commentary of the women at yoga that day.

You became fixated on how his suit would move with his body, fabric subtly outlining the muscles of his arms, how how when you ate dinner in the greenhouse, he would straighten out his coat on the chair behind himself. Rolling his sleeves up before picking up the seemingly small teacup in his large hands with high-class elegance before casting you a cheeky wink as you choked on your own drink.

You loved the way he rushed to pat your back, ask if you were feeling alright and then went back to his emotionless facade as if nothing had happened moments later and you too would fall into this habit. Your lagging mind catching up with your heart as realization overcame the two of you on how nothing more could come of this- nothing good at least.

Edward would open every door for you, allow you to walk on the inside of the sidewalk, would make sure you had the booth seat and take a hand in between your shoulder blades, sometimes the back of your neck in crammed and crowded spaces as you made your way through your parents workplace events and end-of-year parties.

And every night when you would come home, the house quiet your cold bed waiting for you with dim lights. Edward would wish you a goodnight before softly closing the door, you would wait in the far side of your room till you couldn't hear his footsteps anymore in fear of asking him to stay with you.

To truly give you all of his time, your mothers voice came back into your head, calling you selfish in your wants and you listened once more. Listening had gotten you to meet Eddie but maybe you were failing to listen to the right parts...

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: It has been such a long time since I have written something, I hope that this was not a terrible read (hahaha... ermmm...)

[aticklishpercivalwriter]

Understanding Feelings

Tickletober 2024 - Day 3: Cleaning

Link(s) to Art: Kinich (@ToffyNarufy); Kazuha (@Genshin_7)

Summary: Kinich is jealous he can’t spend as much time with Aether compared to a certain Adeptus. Kazuha talks to him about it.

A/N: This took way longer than I wanted it to. I wasn’t sure how to describe everyone’s feelings in the poly ship and make it flow, but I made it work out in the end…to my liking at least. It isn’t easy writing with so many characters and considering how they love one another but I hope it comes off clear and to your liking. If you have any suggestions on how to write poly ships and all that, let me know. Even though it is self-indulgent, I want to do it right. On another note, hopefully, I did these two justice since I haven’t seen much fan work of them. Kinda nervous when you write a ship that’s not established or recognized in the fandom. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy this one :)

Word Count: 1656 Also on AO3!

—

“Well, that’s not edible.”

Kazuha, Sethos, and Kinich stared at the smoking pan that held what was supposed to be the pumpkin pie but was now a scorched, black waste.

“And more like a pile of garbage.”

Sethos and Kazuha eyed Kinich with an amused look.

“You're starting to sound like Ajaw. Are you sure he hasn't taken over your body?”

“I'm myself, don’t worry.”

Sethos went to open the window to get rid of the residual smoke while Kinich threw the contents of the pan in the trash.

“I’ll get the ingredients and stuff to bake a new one,” Sethos says. “You both can clean the kitchen.”

Before either of them could say anything, Sethos was out of the house.

“He's just like Gaming, always ready to help out,” Kazuha chuckled.

He looked over in the dining room and saw Gaming and Heizou hanging up the decorations. Heizou sitting on his shoulders putting up the decorations.

Gahahaming! Dohohon't squeeze my thihighs lihihike thahahat! I’ll fahahahall!

I’ll stop once you finish, so just work faster~

“Kaz, we got cleaning to do,” Kinich called out to him.

“Oh, right.”

Kinich was already running the water at the sink and soaping the dishes and utensils that were already inside.

“Can you grab whatever is left on the counter and put them here?” Kinich called over his shoulder.

Kazuha hummed in response, gathering the stuff that needed to be washed and placing them beside Kinich.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Kazuha took whatever was dry from the drying rack and put them away before returning and wrapping his arms around Kinich’s waist and setting his chin on his shoulder, placing a kiss on his neck before humming a tune.

Kinich maintained his composure at the sudden affection and ticklish feeling that was starting to spread across his neck. Goosebumps rose on his neck and a smile he couldn't hold back appeared on his face. Unbeknownst to Kinich, Kazuha caught sight of it from the reflection on the window and grinned.

“What is that tune you're humming?” Kinich asks him, after a few moments of tranquility.

“Since fall is here and there are leaves around, it's my specialty to come up with something to accompany them and it's this.”

“Elegant as always, aren't you?”

“It all comes naturally to me.”

Another peaceful silence hangs over them before Kazuha breaks it with a question.

“How do you like it? Being with us I mean.”

“It's nice,” Kinich answers, turning off the water and thinking. “I never thought that loving Aether would bring me to meet you and everyone else. Though…”

An expression quickly flashes across his face, too fast for Kazuha to make out what it is.

“Though what?”

“Is Xiao usually by Aether's side all the time?”

Kazuha raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Now that you mention it, he usually is. Aether and Xiao have been through a lot together and he has softened up as Aether became the shining light in his heart. Xiao promised him that he should call out his name if he needs anything and he will appear right by his side no matter what.”

“Oh.”

Kinich felt a tug at his heart as he remembered what he told Aether before.

“For you, I'll do anything, Aether.”

He clasped his hands in his before leaning forward and letting their lips connect into a passionate kiss.

Kazuha eyed the troubled look in his eyes, now understanding. Jealousy. He's seen it many times and has felt it too when he wanted to be with Aether and seeing him with one of their lovers (he loves his other lovers, don't get him wrong), he can't help feeling jealous in wanting Aether all to himself for some private time. He knows how it feels.

But he couldn't help but tease him a bit, a smirk making its way on his face as he nibbled his ears making him let out a surprised yelp and out of his thoughts.

“Is the great, ‘Malipo’ Kinich jealous?” he teasingly whispers.

Kinich gasps before turning and trying to glare at him, willing the smile on his face away.

“I'm not jealous.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I'm- AHAHAHAHA!”

Kinich threw his head back in surprised laughter when Kazuha blew a raspberry on his neck.

“What was that? I couldn't hear you over your laughter~” Kazuha blew another one, stealing a kiss from his lips too.

“MmphehaHAHaHA! Ihihi tohohold youhuhu I'm nohohot jehehealous! LEhehet gohoho!”

“I don't believe you. It's okay to say you're jealous y'know.”

“I'm nohohot jealous of ahahany-! Wait! WahAHAIT! Kahahazuhuhu! Dohohon't gohoho thehehere!” he panicked, feeling Kazuha's fingers starting to crawl up to his upper sides and ribs.

“Hmm?” Kazuha hummed innocently as his hands continued to slowly travel upwards.

“K-Kahazuhaha! Plehehease! Dohohon't dohoho ihihit!”

Kazuha never heard Kinich be so frantic before as he desperately tried to tug at his wrists and shake him off.

“Do you want me to stop?” Kazuha asks, slowing down with concern laced in his voice.

Kinich just looks away in response as the last of his giggles fade.

“Kinich? Was it too much? I’m sorry. I-”

“No, it’s fine I…”

Kazuha looks at his face and beyond the red hue from laughing, he sees a subtle blush dusting his face and the tips of his ears.

“It’s just I’m too…t-ticklish…”

A silence settles upon them and the longer it stretches his blush intensifies.

“K-KazuHAHAHAHA?!”

Kinich squeals as he feels fingers dart upwards and pinch his upper ribs and massage his sides, crumbling between the sink and his boyfriend.

“Is the great, ‘Malipo’ Kinich jealous and extremely ticklish?”

“NAHAHAHAT THEHEHERE! KAHAHAHAZ!”

He hides his laughing face in his hands as he leans on the edge of the sink for support.

“Oh Kimchi~ You are adorable~”

“IHIHI’M NOHOHOT A PIEHEHECE OF FOHOHOOD! AHAHAHAHA! OHOHOR ADORABLEHEHEHE!”

“I think otherwise, Kinichi~”

Kazuha starts nibbling his neck and makes nom nom noises along with kneading his ribs and sides.

“Om-nom-nom, so tasty~”

Kinich loses it, shaking his head to try and throw him off

“GAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO MOREHEHEHE KAHAHAZUHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA!”

“Just say the words, Kin~”

“OKAY! OKAHAHAHAY! I’M JEALOUS OF XIAHAHAHAO! I SAHAHAID IHIHIT! PLEHEHEHASE! STAHAHAHAP! KAHAHAZ!”

Kinich slides down to the floor in exhaustion as Kazuha lets him, thinking it's over before gasping and letting out an undignified whine when he feels him straddling him. Kazuha took in his form, flushed face with tears of mirth threatening to fall. Giggles slipping out of him unrestrained as he weakly tries to push him off.

Archons, he's adorable looking like this.

He starts tickling him again, rubbing deep circles on his worst spot and Kinich howls in laughter and thrashes as much as he is allowed to.

“BWAHAHAHAHA! KAHAHAZUHUHU! IHIHIHIT’S TOHOHOHOO MUCH! NAHAHAHAHA!”

“Tell me you are adorable, and I'll finally stop.”

“NOHOHO WAHAHAY! I'M NOHOHOT SAHAHAYING THAHAT!”

“I’ll say it for you then,” he gets close to his ear, not slowing down the tickling. “You're so cute laughing like this, Kinichi~ Your beautiful laughter is music to my ears.”

Kinich is beyond flustered and swears he feels more ticklish as Kazuha continues to compliment him.

“WAHAHAHAIT! DOHOHON'T SAHAHAY THOHOHOSE THIHIHINGS!”

“Look at that blushing face. You like this huh? You're an adorable, ticklish one aren't you~”

“KAHAHAZHUHUHAHAHA! STAHAHAP IHIHIT! FIHIHINE! I'M ADORAHAHAHABLE! I'M ADORABLEHEHE! PLEHEHEASE! MEHEHERCY!”

Kazuha slowed down, nibbling his ears affectionately before kissing him and taking his breath away.

“Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

“Whahahatehever. You're cruel, you know thahat?”

Kazuha laughs, carrying him up and setting him on a chair by the counter, and grabbing two cups of water before sitting beside him.

“Back to what we were talking about before,” he says like he didn't tickle him to death a moment ago.

Kinich snorted, taking a sip from his cup.

“What?”

“You almost killed me with tickles, and you talk as if it was nothing. Ajaw would’ve been proud of you if you actually killed me through such means.”

“Oh, come on. You know I wouldn't kill you. Besides, you looked like you were enjoying yourself~”

Kinich blushed, hiding behind his cup.

“Can you stop teasing me?”

Kazuha chuckles.

“Okay. Okay. I'll stop. What I was about to say is that it's okay to be jealous.”

Kinich looks at him over his cup in surprise.

“Why do you say that?” he asks, setting down his cup.

“Believe it or not, I get jealous too. And the others too. We all want to be with Aether and spend alone time with him.”

“Oh. I never thought that you all would be jealous. I thought it was just me.”

“You’re not alone. We all want a piece of our small ball of sunshine, but we respect each other’s desires and who we want to be with. For example, if I’m not with Aether, I’m with Heizou, Scara, you, or one of the others. It’s really all about sharing each other with one another.”

“I see.”

“Yeah. Don’t stress about it. Besides, Aether somehow always makes time for each one of us and we all love him for that.”

“…Thank you, Kaz.”

“Who’s ready to make pumpkin pie? Take two this time.”

Sethos strides in with all the ingredients and necessary cookware with a grin on his face as he sets them on the counter in front of them.

“Right on time, Seth,” Kazuha says, rising from his chair and then looking at Kinich he says, “We all love you, Kin. Especially Aether, don’t forget that.”

He then moves close to his ear, whispering, “And how can we not love your adorable blush and cute laugh~”

Kinich looks away as another blush starts taking over his face.

“S-Shut up.”

“What did you say to him, Kazuha? His face is like a tomato. It’s pretty cute.”

“Ugh,” Kinich groans, covering his face in his hands making them both laugh.

“Okay, that’s enough teasing for now. Let’s bake that pie now, shall we?”

“Yup!”

“Mhm.”

—

Thank you for reading! :) -Perz ~Risus Amoris~

[ruiniel]

What You Choose

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: Rengoku Kyojuro x f!reader

Count: 2K

Rating: T (M later)

On AO3

Summary: I recently watched/read KNY and have emotions. Likely done before, but wanted to get this out of my system so wrote it down. Rengoku survives the fight with Akaza, but some battles are not so straightforward.

Tags & Warnings: Rengoku lives AU, multichapter, blood, injury, pining, angst, second person POV, demon slayer!reader, tsuguko!reader, alternating POV, Oblivious Rengoku Kyojuro, for a while at least, Death, Mild Gore, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut

All characters depicted are 18+

I.

Everything fades. His body is going numb, his vision blurs as he stares down at his reflection in the dark pool of his own blood, unable to lift his head. The cries of grief surrounding him become dim and scatter like dying leaves from his consciousness.  

I've done my duty, I've given my all.

The last he remembers is a small, clawed hand and a sudden, blooming flame bursting through his shattered torso, scalding him from within in ways his own fire never could. 

I see... So this is what it feels like… to burn. 

The balmy weather outside has no effect on you, seated at the side of the infirmary bed, your head in your hands. 

“Perhaps you should go and rest. There’s been no change, and we’ll be sure to inform you of any developments.” 

Aoi’s words are void of their usual sternness. You’ve heard them before, and yet—

“I’m fine, I really am.” You gaze back at the prone figure lying motionless beneath crisp white sheets. His gold and crimson hair is messy, and you’ve never seen him so pale, his features so sunken. The bandage covering his left eye is stained red in places, the usually smiling lips dry and bloodless.

Aoi sighs but says nothing else, and soon her departing steps echo against the walls.

I can’t. I can’t leave his side. You wish your thought could reach him, down to whatever place he’s struggling in now. You ball your hands into fists over your knees, a poor attempt at holding your composure. Please, come back. Please.

Weeks have passed since the mission on the train, since your group has returned with wounded bodies and spirits, though none in such a critical state as your mentor. Rengoku Kyojuro has not awakened since, and in contrast, since the nightmares the demon has placed upon you in that baleful encounter, you’ve not been able to sleep more than two to three hours every night. Every time, waking up in a sweat, the memory of what happened always the last image you remember. 

“How is he today?”

You’re drawn from your thought by the gentle voice of the person you feel like you owe a life of debt to, and turn to gaze into the tired, worried eyes of Tanjiro Kamado. He stands by the bed now, glancing down at the Hashira. The slow rise and fall of his chest is the only sign that he is still alive. 

You shake your head as Tanjiro takes a seat. “How is rehabilitation training going?” 

Tanjiro smiles, still staring at the bed and its unresponsive occupant. “Almost done, I feel my strength returning to what it used to be and more. I admire how well you’ve upheld yourself, though,” he murmurs. 

It’s true, for some reason, you’ve been the least scathed of them all, needing much less medical care than the rest. No, you know the reason why. “It’s because of him,” your words escape you. “If… if he hadn’t trained me as he did, if he hadn’t driven me so far beyond my limits, I don’t know if I would have survived for as long as I have in my role.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard. They say Lord Rengoku’s methods are… harsh to say the least.”

A smile tugs at your lips as a known pain pricks your heart. “But… but I’ve been remiss in thanking you, young Kamado—or rather, your sister. If she hadn’t…”  Your throat tightens; you don’t want to break down, not here, not before Tanjiro and not before him, no matter he can’t hear it. 

“Please, please don’t worry, it was a stroke of luck and quick thinking on her part, I only brought the box closer—”

“... she healed him! I saw the flames engulfing him, I saw the wound close. I don’t know how she did it but… Nezuko is someone... very special.”

Tanjiro lowers his head in humble acknowledgement. “I will tell her.” Then, as though remembering something, he reaches into his pocket and hands you a small bag. “Here, I’ve not seen you join meals very often and… well, please take them.”

You don’t have the strength to refuse, and take the bag from his hand, meeting his kind smile. “Candies…”  You thank him before placing them on the bedstand, and after a few more moments of sitting in comfortable silence, Tanjiro takes his leave. You watch him depart, endeared by his manner and honesty. He has a good soul, a strong will—perhaps the strongest you’ve known, apart from…

You stare back at your mentor, memories of the past flooding behind your eyes.

Five months prior

“Good! Again!”

You’re panting, your total concentration breathing nearly failing as you evade another deadly arc of the Third Form: Blazing Universe. 

The sun has westered and a bluish twilight sets over the lands, but your mentor still has you parrying his unwavering techniques, before making you attack using combinations of them in turn. 

“Lord—lord Rengoku—”

His blazing speed cuts your words short as your blades clash, and you stare into bright, golden-rimmed irises. He’s smiling, as usual, with a devilish spark in his eyes. There is a sudden flutter in your stomach, overriding the fatigue in your burning muscles. “Come now, don’t tell me you’re beat! You’ve come so far after only three years!” he says as you fall back, lunging for another attack the following second.

The sudden weakness you feel when you’re close to him has you confused, because it was not there before. It all began in the past year: whenever he stares at you in a certain way, whenever he touches you during training or meets your eyes, something gnaws achingly at your chest. It’s as though you need something from him, but have no idea what it is. 

“I knew it from the moment I took you on as a successor,” he says, merciless in his offensive. “If you—” Parry. Lunge. “—carry on like this—” Attack. Jump. “—you’ll reach a Hashira level of skill in no time at all!” 

You don’t have the chance to reply, though his words feel like honey coating your senses. At first, he’d been sparse and strict, keeping to instructions and nothing else. But you struggled, worked harder than you had for anything in all your life, and it seems he acknowledges this fully now. 

“Now—Ninth Form: Rengoku!” 

That means you must attack, and he must deflect. But—Ninth Form?! “I—I can’t, I’m… I’m too exhausted for the Ninth!”

He bursts forward with Unknowing Fire, forcing you to duck and curl your body, rolling away into the dust, rising on one knee. 

The Flame Hashira turns, pointing his weapon at you. “Is that what you plan on telling the demons?”

“Well, no, but—”

“At no point during a battle will you have the luxury of biding your time. If this were an actual encounter, you’d be dead.” He no longer smiles, his face turned cold, eyes glinting like molten steel.

You feel the rush of shame like fangs biting into you, fueling a horrible need to prove him wrong, to rise up to the challenge in his voice. With a hiss and a groan you grip the handle of your katana tightly, breathing and striving to light that spark in your heart. 

With a cry you speed forward, clashing with him in a desperate lunge. 

“Ha!” The smile returns as you grit your teeth. “Better!”

His face is so close to yours again, so close you feel the rush of his breath on your cheek. 

Your knees feel weak again, and you close your eyes, pushing forward in an attempt to skew his balance. 

What the hell is happening to you? 

“Faster, the fire is still weak! It must rage!” the Hashira says, grinning like a madman now, and where once you enjoyed the path of learning and reaching your full potential, now his attitude brings forth an ache that confuses you and leaves you anxious.

Even so. Your blades sing against each other as you lunge back in a high jump, landing in a lowered stance with one palm braced against the earth. Your uniform is wet on your back, and you’re closer to your breaking point than you've ever been.

But the thought of disappointing him, now that feels unbearable. So you do what you always do: you push yourself more, more, harnessing all your strength into one melting core, bathing your heart in it and firing up your veins. 

You attack.

He laughs outright. “Not bad, but—” Your swords clash, fiercer than before. “I know you can do better, and you can be faster.”

“I’m doing all I can!” you yell, at the end of your tether now. It’s not the first time, nor will it be the last. But he takes no offense, he never does, and that's one of the things you appreciate about him. “But you—you make it impossible! You always want more, even if you know I’m not ready for it!”

It must be the fire rushing through you that has you speaking this way, daring to say such words despite knowing full well what you were in for, when you accepted to become his successor. 

“Wait until you’re ready, and you will never improve!” the Flame Hashira throws back.

A growl leaves your throat as you fall back then speed towards him again, trying the Second then the Third form in succession sloppily but you’re past caring. 

Your arms feel as though they will tear and your bones might splinter as you crash against his unwavering stance, and you meet his scarlet-gold gaze as he speaks softly, his voice imbued with warmth: “You can surpass the impossible. I believe in you.” 

Your eyes widen, that damned ache ringing through your body like a weakening poison and—

For one split second, your stance weakens, and you’re thrown back, losing your balance and falling heavily onto the ground. 

Rengoku stares down at you, tilting his head to the side with a strange look on his face as he sheathes his katana. 

Your vision sways, your lungs might burst. You barely clutch at the helping hand extended to you, aiding you to your feet. He grasps your shoulders. “What happened there just now? Your focus melted like wax.”

“I…” You can’t look him in the eye. His hands on you diffuse heat, permeating through your clothing. It feels good. It scares you. “I don’t… know.”

“Tomorrow, again,” he says, releasing you. “Please do better. Remember we’re doing this for you, but foremost for the people.”

“Understood,” you murmur, biting back tears as you watch him walk away.

Midnight has arrived when you end your reverie, thinking about that emotion that took root in your body and spirit, growing stronger as time passed. And you never dared tell him, never dared facing it nor can you explain why. You take a deep breath, leaned with your arms folded on the edge of the bed, your forehead resting on them. You never told him, and now… 

And now with each day I’m losing hope.

Your shoulders are shaking, and your eyes sting. There is no one else here but you and him, the long chamber of empty beds the only witness to your breakdown. 

You’re so absorbed by despair, you don’t perceive the faint movement, or the hand gently placed on your head.

“... Why are you crying?”

You choke on a silent sob, blinking in shock at the low, throaty voice, broken with disuse. Slowly, you raise your head.

He's staring at you, a bleak smile on his lips, and you're utterly, incomprehensibly frozen.

“You… you’re awake?” It feels like the dumbest of questions: your body knows the truth before your mind catches up. 

“That… depends. Are you really here?” he asks in turn. 

You nod, biting on your lower lip and wiping your eyes with your sleeve. “Yes, yes I am.”

The smile wavers for a moment as he grimaces in pain. “Oh, I see. Then… it seems… you’re not rid of me yet.”

All the gods in all the world couldn’t keep the emotions flooding you at bay, and you shake your head as warm tears flow down your face. 

PART II

[randoimago]

Since Astarion can't see his own reflection, I thought it'd be interesting to ask for a scenario where his painter!S/O surprises him with a hyper-realistic portrait of him that they made.

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Astarion

Note(s): I wish there was a way to give him a painting or have him comment on the statue (if it was commissioned of him). I can just imagine the various ways he'd react depending on how his story goes.

Astarion

You mention you got him a present and he's already amused. Gives you a smile as he says something cheeky like, "Buying my affection with gifts? You know me well."

And then you show him the portrait and he just looks at it for a bit. Astarion is a bit confused as he takes in the face he doesn't recognize. Is it a character in some book he mentioned liking at some point? He's typically good at faces (he needed to know who to run and hide from, after all).

Then you explain that it's him. Astarion just stares at you for a few moments as he processes what he was just told. His eyes go back to the painting as he takes in the details of the face. He honestly doesn't know what emotions to feel. The fact that you put in some much effort for him has his heart skipping a beat. But the fact that it's taken him this long to see his face again.

Yes, he's had opportunities in the past with other artists, but it always felt too intimate with certain people. And with others, he was afraid that having a painting of himself would show him as the monster Cazador turned him into.

But your painting has none of that. His eyes look lighter than he thought. The smile on his face doesn't look as forced as his smile used to be.

"Oh shit." He'd suddenly say and look away as he feels his eyes getting watery. He doesn't want you to see how much this painting is affecting him. How much seeing his face in your eyes is affecting him. In the past, he would've made up some lie or some cheeky comment about his nose not being cute enough. But now that he has actual feelings? It's just a lot of emotions hitting him at once. Vulnerability is still something he struggles with showing, but he wipes his eyes and gives you a small smile.

"Thank you, my sweet," he'd murmur and move the painting aside before pulling you into a hug, holding you tight to his chest. Once he's gotten over the sudden burst of emotions that hit him, then he'd clear his throat and go back to his usual self. His eyes going to the painting as he hums in contemplation.

"Does my nose really look like that?"

Taglist: @reo-the-leo @unhelpfulnpc

[the-blue-fairie]

Art by @shes-an-iso – commissioned by me and posted here with permission

Realization.

It is ten years ago and I am watching Frozen.

It is ten years ago and I am watching Elsa transform herself into her truest self, watching her spin threads of blue around herself, seizing power for herself – radical self-actualization.

The glint of Elsa’s ice dress reflects in my eyes as I watch Elsa strut into the sunlight – and I do not have words for why I am so moved.

I do not have words, but the shimmer stays.

It is ten years ago and I am choosing to become a part of the Frozen fandom.

I have lurked in fandom circles before, but never posted a thing, never made an account.

It is my first time being part of an online fan community – and, as awful as fandoms can be at times, this fandom – for me – ten years ago – is truly a community.

I begin to make friends in the Frozen fandom.

Some of these friends are trans.

The gleam of Elsa’s hair in the rose-gold dawn shines again in my eyes, and shyly, I begin asking questions of my friends.

Realization is nothing without the words to process it – and my friends give me words, my friends help me to understand.

I am a trans woman.

It is in this online space that I first take the name Liza for myself, since this online space is the only place that I can allow myself to be.

I build for myself. My blog is my own ice palace. What I cannot sculpt in daily life, I carve within online spaces – offering my writing, my thoughts, my edits, my soul to the world.

Everyone here knows me as Liza.

Even as I’m in the closet to my family for years, in here, I am Liza. My friends know me as I am, and as Liza is all they will ever know me.

But I am in the closet. For years.

(It’s why Do You Want to Build a Snowman still breaks me.)

In the closet more out of some misplaced sense of duty to my family than out of dread, though I am scared. Always scared. And then in the closet because I feel it’s better if I bury this. Not better for me, but for them. If I’m bleeding inside, it doesn’t matter. I can put on a show. I have fine-woven gloves. Well-taught decorum. Be the good girl you always have to be, etc.

(Maybe it’s my fault I’m in the closet for years. Anons on this site have told me that in the past. I don’t have it as bad as others in the closet, I’m just a coward, the fault is mine, the fault is mine…)

Fuck off.

(People blame Elsa for the thirteen years in the same way, placing the blame on her and not the tutelage that trained her, because her parents loved her, you see, and love becomes a convenient means of shifting blame to the victim.)

In June 2016, after the Pulse shooting, I make a post about how I’m never going to come out. I am terrified, heartbroken, mangled by grief – but my friends are there for me. My friends send me messages of support, of compassion.

I still cherish the memory of those.

Years pass. When I finally come out to my father, I can barely say the words, barely look him in the eye.

It is ten years since Frozen and I have come out to my family – far too late. I have been on HRT more than a year now.

(My dad still misgenders me when he thinks I’m out of earshot. He resents when I get frustrated with him over this.)

It is ten years since Frozen and I am Elsa on the North Mountain, staring into the whirlwind of an uncertain future, defiant and scared.

And I know – I know – that I didn’t process I was trans because of the film – it was because of the friendship of fellow trans people, trans people who happened to be Frozen fans a decade ago – but my journey of self-realization, my time in the closet, my creation of a sense of self, are so entwined with memories of Frozen that I can’t help but think of it when thinking about my own transition…

Can’t help but think of Elsa, hips swaying, arms outstretched, flashing, radiant –

Happy tenth anniversary, Frozen.

And thank you. Thank you.

(This is okay to reblog. In fact, please do. It is a sliver of my soul that I offer to the world.)

[menlove]

any introductory beatles (just mclennon tbh) fics? 🤲

LORD OKAYYYYY i'll try not to go too crazy and just stick to my alltime faves.....

first of all anything @forthlin (milaway on ao3) has written literally ever. i am going to eat them one day. they are the yin to my yang and also the best writer this fandom has ever seeeeen. um. anyway! like i said, all their fics. but i'd Particularly rec your lucky break which is an au where john is a 30 something rockstar and paul is an up and coming musician in the 70s. and well! what can i say about this fic except it's sooo in character, hot, and also the reason i started talking to the best person on this earth so whatever

also completelyyyyy selfish but hey i only wrote half so i'm counting it but we also have an ongoing series: i want you, i need you, i love you where they're writing john's povs and i'm writing paul's! it's just basically our take on their timeline & relationship, but the third installment's going to be a fix-it

now onto me not being gay or selfish here's some of my favorites that i think are Must Reads.

Boy, You've Been A Naughty Girl

explicit. 49k. John makes Paul a bet. Paul takes him up on it. Crossdressing shenanigans and angst ensue, and ~feelings come out in the wash. 1961. rec notes: okay look. this one is just a classic. it's great. esp love it bc it's right up my alley with its "paul isn't an oblivious moron" takes. also.... hot.

I Still Miss Someone/I Know That I Miss You but I Don't Know Where I Stand

explicit. 64k. It's 1976 and Paul keeps showing up on John's doorstep with a guitar. Eventually John turns him away and Paul goes off to sulk in his hotel room the night before his flight from New York. Based on real events. rec notes: aaaaugh this one haunts me there's one scene i think of literally every time "i still miss someone" by johnny cash comes on, which is one of my fave songs. it's not a fix-it, but it's so so so good for the Vibes of their 70s relationship :(

Like Love, The Archers Are Blind

explicit. 22k. He wants to push Stuart out of the way, not even with a violent yank of his collar like he sometimes imagines. Just to melt into his place like butter sliding in a pan. Have it be an effortless breath of fresh air when John looks up at him and sees it all reflected back in his eyes. It’s you. rec notes: this one is just... soft. and so good for a snapshot of the hamburg vibe.

i was a younger man then (now) (post hoc)

mature. 27k. John’s twelve when a bloke appears from a flaming pie and says, “From this day forward you are Beatles with an ‘a.’” The bloke is Paul. Or: paul and john meet at all ages and eras and john is the time-traveler’s wife the way only john lennon can be rec notes: literally my favorite mclennon fic everrrrrr ever ever. other than your lucky break. this is everything. this is it. like it nails their dynamic even though it's a magical au. it explores their relationship sooooo fucking well. i think about it like weekly.

John My Beloved

explicit. 33k. They've always loved each other, in their own way… rec notes: OTHER FAVORITE EVER it broke my heart it changed my fucking lifeeeee it changed my world. major character death warning but fuck man. i think about this literally constantly. this fic haunts me. i think it changed me. i had to stare at a wall for like 30 minutes after finishing it. i got choked up.

two of us (burning matches)

explicit. 6k. It won't stop raining. Paul doesn't know what his feelings are doing. John's practising his right swing. Somewhere along the way, they fuse together. rec notes: this one is just cuuuute and perfect for the Early Days Vibes.

Grow Old With Me

explicit. 8k. fix-it. Paul breaks his arm, and John panics. rec notes: SOOOO FUCKING SWEET. this is what they deserved and i like to live here in my mind when the reality of what actually happened gets to be too much.

1967

mature. 11k. canon-divergent au. In 1961, John Lennon and Paul McCartney left abruptly on a trip to Spain, via France. In 1967, they finally come home to face the consequences. rec notes: the style of this one is INSANE. it's so unique and i love it sososososo much. also the plot? is super unique???? basically it's an au where they never came home from paris and it's.... so fucking good. i love the way it looks at their dynamic like fuck. it's just perfect.

Way Up Top

explicit. 12k. Falling out of the sky, together. | Snapshots of the Beatles in Greece, July 1967 rec notes: LOVE this one for its portrayal of all non-mclennon parties. it fleshes everyone out, especially jane and cyn, in ways a lot of fics just skip. just sooo well written and melancholic in a great way i think.

When You Are Young They Assume You Know Nothing

mature. 26k. But Paul knows John. There’s something about Paris, though... rec notes: THE paris fic to me. this is soooo good and so fucking soft and it just. augh. it killed me.

a brief interruption, a slight malfunction

explicit. 12k. During the rooftop concert, John remembers why he used to find Paul so irresistible after a show. One more time won't hurt, right? rec notes: perfect breakup era fic. my rec notes on ao3 were "this was devastating :)" so. god. this fucked me up.

aaand honorary mentions to the two non-mclennon fics i've read but !

Knocking at Your Door

george/paul. explicit. 6k. It's easy enough, this time, to lean in and touch their lips together. A firm press of his mouth to Paul's; first at the corner, then right on the centre of his yielding, expressive lower lip. Paul and George: a few meetings over thirty-six years. rec notes: the opening sentence to this made me sick to my stomach and then the rest of the fic destroyed me permanently

Where The Sailors Go

ringo/paul. explicit. 5k. A drunken German mistakes Paul, alone in Hamburg's red light district, for a rentboy. Ringo, the Hurricanes' terrifyingly adult drummer, intervenes. Things happen, but Paul can't stop thinking about John. rec notes: PRINGOOOOO. with background mclennon. this was so real to me. also in the same universe as this fic is (It's Just) Another Day which is a transfem paul mclennon fic that rooocked my world. it's still a wip but holy fuck. made me rearrange the way i see paul tbh.

[corpupine]

I've been doing a lot of thinking...and I feel like I need to scream this out somehow even though I'm sure it's been talked about before (and I'm putting it under a readmore because it gets long).

No matter what, in any playthrough you do and any timeline you create.

UNDERTALE is a game about guilt.

You have Toriel, so guiltridden she couldn't protect her own children that she devotes herself to never letting another child leave again. And then they do!! over and over again, that guilt compounds until it's the center of her life and every choice she makes!!

And obviously Asgore, so guiltridden that he couldn't protect his own children from humans that he spends the rest of his days trying to get out and get revenge on them--as if that will stop the voices in his head saying, if you had been out there with them you could have stopped it, you could have stopped those humans from killing your children, and maybe he could have!! Or maybe not!! He'll never know and it eats him from the inside out!

Alphys, oh my sweet summer child this fandom does not deserve you!! Alphys, so guiltridden from her own perceived failures as a scientist that she began to try anything, anything to make the King happy, and it seemed to be working at first, and then it was so everlastingly worse, how can you cause something worse than death?? without even trying??

And it shows up in little ways, silly ways, too! Ways you wouldn't even think about as guilt! Undyne! She feels guilty that she won't let Papyrus join the Royal Guard so she gives him cooking lessons instead! Papyrus feels guilty that he's not in love with you after one date so he'll "keep being your cool friend and act like this never happened!"

SANS MY BOI don't even get me started. His guilt isn't as physically obvious but he made a promise to toriel, he promised her he would keep the human safe, and in timelines where you save everyone he follows you pretty much all throughout the Underground (even if he doesn't do anything to help smh) because he'd feel guilty not doing it, and in timelines where you kill everyone he feels guilty for not stopping you, AND in those SAME timelines he feels guilty for stopping you because it means he's breaking his promise to Toriel to keep you safe I!!! This boy can fit so much cosmic guilt in him!!!!

Asriel! FLOWEY!! Do you ever wonder if he feels guilty about being the one to wake up again? The one to survive, when Chara had to die twice?? He sits at their grave and he will do anything, anything to drown out those thoughts so he befriends and kills and torments and it's all the same and it's all useless!!

And their guilt compounds each others'! Toriel makes Sans make that promise because of her own guilt, which increases his! Asgore's guilt is what pushes Alphys so far past the limits of ethical science, because he increases hers!

And all of this, all of this, ALL OF THIS pales in comparison to you!!!

You!! The player! You return to the Underground after maybe accidentally killing Toriel or a few others because you didn't know, you never wanted to hurt them!! You listen to Flowey and you come back and you save them all!

You! The player!!! You cry at the ending and you'd feel guilty, so guilty about letting them all go, wouldn't you? So you ignore Flowey's pleas to let it alone, and you come back again, you say hello to your dear friends but this time it isn't the same, this time you kill them all because you want to see everything this game has to offer, might as well get your money's worth, the fights are cool, right?? And then you get hit with the most unsatisfying atomic bomb of an ending and the only thing left is your own reflection staring back at you from the black screen of your computer as the horror dawns, what have you done???

YOU!!! The player! You go back again even though there is no Flowey left to tell you to, and you save them all again because I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, nobody deserves what I did to all of you, and it's all good, nobody remembers, and then you get to the end. The game knows what you did!!! It never forgot, and it'll make certain you never forget either!! Guilt!! Guilt, guilt!!! It's baked into the code of this game!!

Anyways tl;dr, maybe it actually did make sense to give this game to the pope

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 30: Battle of the Astronomy Tower

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Dumbledore's death A/n: Another year complete. I'll be taking a break as usual from posting to finish the story. 24th of December will chapter 31 be posted. But before that time I've got a little extra content for y'all :)) [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

Theodore is quick to send a spell flying towards the Death Eaters. But it's easily deflected by Bellatrix Lestrange. You try to get out of bed, grabbing your wand that lies on the bedside table. But your legs give out under you and you land painfully on your knees.

You crawl towards the closest wall and hoist yourself up, raising a shaking arm and ready to defend yourself and Theo. "What," huff, "do you", huff, "want?", you ask, out of breath.

You already know the how, but now the why. Why here with you? And not hunting down Dumbledore.

With a flick of the wrist, Fenrir Greyback comes stalking toward you, a sinister smirk on his face. You yelp and fire a disarming spell, but it bounces off of him.

Theo's quick to jump over the bed and stand in the way between you and the werewolf. He puts an arm in front of you, which you hold on for support.

"Isn't that just the cutest?" Bellatrix laughs cruelly, the other Death Eaters joining her. "The little fiancé is protecting her."

You wish you had more strength, you wish that you weren't so exhausted so you could stand up to her. But instead, your legs shake and the hold on your wand is weak. Even if you wanted to protect yourself and Theo, your spells would be weak.

"I won't ask again. What do you want?" You raise your chin.

She grins, walking towards you. She throws Theodore away with a flick of the wand against the wall and grabs your face, digging her filthy nails into your skin. The two of you stare in silence, daring the other one to look away. 

From the corner of your eyes, you see Theo clambering up. You give in and look at him worried. 

Bellatrix takes this as a victory and rips her hand away from your face. "Take them", she orders to Greyback.

The werewolf picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You trash against his hold, but it's useless as your feet dangle off the ground and Greyback just marches on. A Death Eater holds Theodore at wand point and makes him drag his body off the floor.

You're disorientated as the group moves through the castle, upstairs and through doors. Until you finally feel the cold breeze of the night air and you're being put down.

Draco stands in front of Dumbledore at the top of the Astronomy Tower, his wand pointed towards the elder man. 

"Well... look what we have here." Bellatrix halts the group, her eyes trained on the pair. She moves towards your cousin, whispering, "well done, Draco."

"Good evening, Bellatrix." Dumbledore seems unbothered like he has been expecting it. "I think introductions are in order, don't you?"

"Love to, Albus. But I'm afraid we're a bit on a tight schedule. Do it!", she hisses towards Draco, the boy's hand shaking.

You try to move forward, but Fenrir's hand wraps around your throat and holds you in place. You move your hand to the side, reaching out to see if you can grab Theo's hand. But he's too far away from you.

"He doesn't have the stomach, just like his father. Let me finish him in my own way", remarks someone to your right.

"No! The Dark Lord was clear, the boy must do it."

There is some creaking from down below you, and you glance at it. Your breath stops as you spot a reflection in a pair of glasses. Harry. The two of you make eye contact and you slowly shake your head, scared of what will happen.

Bellatrix storms towards Draco, leaning close to him. "This is your moment. Do it. Go on, Draco! Now!", she bellows, clearly getting impatient.

Draco quivers, his face morphed in anguish. The grip on his wand tightens and you swear he's going to do it. He's going to kill Dumbledore.

"No." Professor Snape appears from nowhere, making everybody turn towards him.

There is a moment of silence and shock until the headmaster breaks it. "Severus... please", he begs.

The former Potions Master raises his wand and fires off the killing curse. Avada Kedavra rings in your ears as a flash of green light hits Dumbledore. He flies off the railing and you scream. You launch out of the hold of the werewolf and rush towards the railing, watching how the man drops from high until his body hits the stones below.

You clutch a shaking hand over your mouth. Bile rises in your throat. A pair of hands snatches your shoulder and you get pulled towards the stairs. You watch how Bellatrix fires the Dark mark into the sky with a celebratory yell.

The Death Eaters move swiftly towards the exit of the castle, destroying everything in their path. Everything is a blur until you're outside and Hagrit's hut is in flames.

"Snape! He trusted you!" Harry comes barreling down the hill, wand in hand and fury in his eyes. He fires spells at the man, getting angrier every time Snape deflects them. Until he yells, "Sectumsempra!"

You let out a shriek, clutching your hands over your ears and crouching down. You brace for the impact, the pain. But it doesn't come. Instead, you're pulled to your feet and dragged towards somewhere.

You disappear in a flurry of dark robes and black smoke. Hands grip you and you get pulled in all different kinds of directions. It's hard to breathe. And even when you have stopped moving and you collapse on the ground, you're still out of breath.

The grass under you feels coarse. You know where they took you to. Malfoy Manor. To Voldemort.

A hand grips your bicep harshly before you get yanked off the ground and dragged into the house. You look up and study Snape. He has his never-breaking hard glare on his face, his eyes focussed on where is supposed to go and nothing else. They don't wander, don't linger. 

He brings up stairs, and down endless hallways until he stops in front of familiar wooden doors. He knocks two times and waits a moment before opening one of the doors and pushing you inside.

You stumble, your legs still weak. You find your footing as you hold the back of a chair for support.

The Dark Lord stands in front of the fireplace, his back facing towards you. Nagini slithers around him, her head resting in his hands as he pets the snake. 

You wait with bated breath for what will come. 

Nagini slithers from the Dark Lord's hold towards you. She makes her way up your leg and restricts herself around your middle. "Hello, pretty", she hisses. If a snake had eyelids, she would have fluttered them at you.

You swallow with an uncomfortable smile on your lips, you reach out and run a hand over her scaly body. "Hello, Nagini", you answer back.

She lets out happy hisses. Nagini nestles herself against your body with no intention of letting go.

The Dark Lord is still facing the fire, his wand in his hands. "I assume the mission went successful?"

"Yes, Draco fulfilled his assignment. Dumbledore is dead." It feels weird to say it out loud. Everything happened so fast that you didn't even have a moment to realise what happened. Dumbledore is dead and Snape killed him. All the while Draco was supposed to do it. 

The Dark Lord turns around, his snake-like eyes trained on you. You straighten your back, chest rising anxiously.

He reaches out and takes hold of your chin in an ice-cold hand, his long nails digging into your skin. He studies something on your face. "What did this?"

Confused, you frown. He pushes your face to the side so you're facing a mirror fastened on the wall next to the door. You take a step towards it and Nagini unfurls from you. A large and angry scar creeps from under your jaw towards the inner corner of your right eye. You trace it and hiss as it still hurts.

"I was... I was hit with the Sect- Sectumsempra curse... by Harry Potter", you admit, hanging your head low. Flashes of pain travel through your mind and you squeeze your eyes shut. 

A presence behind you turns you around and you do not dare to look at him. "My Heir, I expect you from now on to attend every meeting and follow my every order. If you do so, I'll grant you your revenge."

You snap your head up, brows knitted together. "My revenge, Father?"

An unnerving smile grows on Voldemort's face. "On Harry Potter."

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry  @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @daintylittlerose

[froggywritesstuff]

hero | mm!yandere!leonardo

ship/pairing: Mutant Mayhem!Yandere!Leo x g/n!reader

fandom: TMNT: Mutant Mayhem

warnings: yandere themes, swearing, Leo being delusional, manipulative behaviour, guilt tripping, being tied up, gags, kidnapping

word count: 1007

A/N: i only saw mutant mayhem in cinemas once like a month ago so this might be ooc. 18+ people DNI. i do not in any way support yandere behaviour, please know that this writing is purely fictional, and should not ever be reenacted in real life

Leo exhaled heavily, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He whispered to himself 'you got this,' over and over like a mantra. He was so nervous, nothing could calm him down. You were in the sewers with him, he couldn't even imagine being calm. He gave up on calming his nerves, deciding to greet you as he was, jittery and giddy. He entered the secluded part of the sewers he cleared out just for you, not being able to contain his smile as he met your eyes - your mouth being covered with the gag he gave you. You didn't look as excited as he was...  You were probably just confused, that was all. Once Leo explained everything, you'd be smiling in no time. He neared closer to you, frowning at the way you shuffled back toward the wall, but he rationalised that you were just too excited to meet him, and was just as giddy as he was.

"HEy." Leo internally cringed at the crack in his voice, but kept a calm face in front of you, "Sorry for keeping you tied up so long, I had to finish up some stuff with my brothers." he paused, before realisation dawned on him, "Oh and sorry for keeping that gag on you for so long," he walked your way, stopping in front of you to untie the gag, "I knew you'd be confused and I didn't want you to hurt your throat by-"

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Leo jumped back when you yelled, not prepared for your hostility. 

"Hey," he looked behind him, double checking no one else was near, "Y/N, you need to keep it down, or I'm gonna have to put the gag back on, and I really don't wanna do that." he said, almost pleading with you.

"You have thirty seconds to explain to me what you think you're doing." you spat, glaring at Leo to hide the fear in your eyes. You did stay quiet, so Leo did appreciate that.

He nodded, exhaling quickly, "Ok, so we go to the same school, I dunno if you've ever noticed me, you probably haven't-"

"Yeah, I never noticed four turtle mutants at my school." 

Leo instantly perked up, "So you have noticed me?" you said nothing, staring at him with a frustrated look, "Right, never mind. I- You just looked so lonely at school, I figured you needed a friend."

You scoffed, and Leo didn't miss the feeling of pure fear in your voice that you tried to cover up, "So your first thought is to kidnap me?"

Leo cringed, "Can you maybe not use that word?"

Your eyebrows raised, “Kidnap?” he nodded, "No, because it's the exact word to describe what you're doing."

”Well you’re making me out to be some kind of monster. I just…” he sighed, “I really like you and I thought I could be your friend, or something…”

”Well you could’ve been if not for the kidnapping.”

He brought his hands to his face, laughing awkwardly, “Can you stop? I’m trying to help you, it’s not my fault you’re not taking this well.” he saw your unconvinced expression and stood up, beginning to pace around the room “I’m a hero, you know I’m a hero. My brothers and I saved the city. I'm trying to do a good thing for you, and I really want you to be happy down here, with me. So can you just stop being so negative?"

You just stared at him speechless. You realised pretty quickly that you wouldn't be able to convince him that what he was doing was wrong. It seemed his mind was made up. But you also noticed that he seemed pretty determined to keep you happy, and was convinced that you weren't happy without him.

"Leo listen to me," you began, seeing the corners of his lips turn up slightly at the fact that you knew his name, "I know you think you're helping me or whatever, but you're really not. I'm fine, I really am. You-you can let me go, and I won't tell anyone about this, I swear." you couldn't stop the tears forming in your eyes. You didn't want him to know, but you were truly terrified.

He narrowed his eyes at you, "What do you mean? I-I'm helping. I don't understand why you wouldn't think that..." you opened your mouth to speak but he quickly cut you off, "I-is this because I'm a mutant?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What?"

"You just think I'm some kind of monster, don't you?" he asked, a hurt look in his eyes as he stared at you.

"Leo, you're not listening to me-" you attempted to say, but Leo cut you off again.

"Well I'm sorry I'm not a human, but last I checked, no human cares enough about you to give you this kind of help." he scoffed, turning around and beginning to walk away.

"Leo, what are you doing?" you asked fearfully, pulling on the ropes around your hands.

He turned back to meet your eyes, "If you hate me so much, I'll just leave you alone then."

You suppress a groan of frustration, "Can you just-"

Leo turned around sharply, a sharp glare sent your way, but you could still see the hope in his eyes, "Just what? If you're gonna yell at me again, I don't wanna hear it."

"I don't want to be here. You're really scaring me, and I want to go home. This isn't what heroes do, Leo." you insisted, staring deep into Leo's eyes, hoping you would reach him.

In the blink of an eye, you saw his face fall, his once tense and frustrated expression replaced with drooped eyelids, frowning lips and slumped shoulders. He stared at you for what felt like an eternity, before his lips turned upwards slightly, a calm expression forced upon his face, "It's ok, Y/N. You’re confused, you’re not used to this yet. You don't understand now, but you will soon. I promise."

[vyl3tpwny]

why it ourple

ok.

i'm going to tell you the story of how purple became my favourite colour. and then, where the name vylet pony came from.

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ch.1 the mace windu incident

once upon a time. I really liked star wars. i kind of still like star wars i guess. but when i was a kid, i REALLY liked star wars.

in my room, i had a mace windu poster.

i still can't find the exact poster. it looked something like this

mace windu was my fav star wars character for an inconceivably long time. with that, i also became fascinated with his purple lightsaber. nobody else had a purple lightsaber. i loved it. staring at that poster constantly made me really like the colour purple. ever since the poster started exerting its technicolour pressures and whimsies upon me, i became fixated on the colour purple. forever.

"hai!~ im mace windu and i loveee Videos!" - mace windu, star wars episode iii: revenge of the sith

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ch. 2 the viny scratch era

fast forward like 7 years. i am in the my little pony fandom now. i am 13 years old. i really like vinyl scratch. she is pictured here:

my first online presence in the mlp community was as a vinyl scratch / dj pon3 roleplay account. for a good year, people called me vinyl and "vy".

however when it came time to start releasing music in the fandom, i couldn't go by vinyl scratch at the time. this name was already being used by the artist who currently goes by Scraton!

this is still one of my favourite songs by them:

anyway. i actually held a really insane, irrational grudge against scraton for being named "vinyl scratch" as a music artist before me. i got past that after a while, because i had to stop being 13 first. i stopped being 13 and eventually fell in love with their music and we became friends later after!

but it's 2013 and i can't be vinyl scratch anymore. people already called me "vy" because of being a vinyl scratch persona.

so.

———————————————————

ch. 3 it's vylet time-wait is that can opener? CANNI?

it started on december 28, 2012. i posted to my then-instagram account this image:

you may recognize this as my oc canni. here's their reworked look in the 2022 album (10 years later) can opener's notebook: fish whisperer (illustrated by @astroeden):

can opener's original name was "ultra vylet". their colour scheme was originally intended to be the inverse of vinyl scratch's, as a sort of strange protest to not being able to be vinyl scratch. i was like ok. well if i cant be vinyl scratch, i am going to make a character that swaps the main colours. within a few months of "ultra vylet" existing, i discarded the design in favour of a completely different one:

this would be the only time vylet consistently had purple in her design until 2018 or so.. lol.

then. on april 15, 2013, i posted this to my instagram:

i had essentially combined three things:

The fact the people called me "vy'

The fact that my favourite colour is purple (violet)

The fact that I wanted to be vinyl scratch (dj pon3) before

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ch. 4 vylet pony ≠ vinyl scratch

that is to say, i never really put a lot of thought into "vylet pony" as a name. i just made it when i was 14 and now i am going to be 25 soon. will i keep vylet pony as a name forever? not sure. do i take great pride in its insanely snarky origin? absolutely.

after i had decided firmly on "vylet pony" as a name — after dropping the "3" from it — i made a new instagram account. the very first thing i posted to it was this:

illustrated by my friend, shade.

now that looks slightly vylet-like, design-wise, oc-wise. oh. but now she is grey and black? ok.

she stopped being purple from 2013-2018.

here is how her design progressed through the years:

the first one is by my then-partner sara. this is when vylet's cutiemark was still an upside down music note, reflected from "ultra vylet" / can opener's original design. i'll show how it became a puzzle piece next.

the second one is by shade

the third one is by chibadeer

the fourth one is by astroeden

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ch. 5 the puzzle piece

to this day, i still cannot find the fanart in question. but over instagram, someone asked to draw fanart of my pony. in doing so, they misconstrued the shape of the upside down music note as a puzzle piece, like this:

i've been looking forever for the original fanart/fanartist that made this mistake. because ever since that art, i just stuck with it anyway. i like puzzles and puzzle games. i'm also a puzzling and enigmatic person. and the puzzle piece can go into so many different things. all sorts of problem solving is like a puzzle. music fits neatly into that category in my opinion. so because of its intrigue and ability to mean so many different things, i just went with it. i never looked back.

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ch. 6 that is the history of the colour purple and vylet pony character design

i hope this answers the question "why it ourple"!