#now i shall wait. i hope i get accepted!! if not it’s cool there are more schools out there that i will try for!

[thatsreallygay]

ladies and gays,

I have officially applied to go back to a university. I’m so nervous but mostly excited!!

please let this be a sign that you should go after what you wanna do in life even if it seems “small”. let that small thing be a ripple effect and make moves. the time will pass anyway so why not make yourself happy while you’re here? 🩷

[sunnysana]

hi i was wondering if you could do a geonwoo from bloodhounds x reader? maybe they’re on a date and he gets protective over the reader?

Gunwoo × Reader / when he gets protective

A/N: Hiii, thank you so much for the request. I love the idea and I hope you enjoy! I hope it reaches your expectations.

Warning(s): None? (Not proofread, lmk if anything sounds odd!)

The air was chilly outside in the evening. However, the atmosphere is cozy. Just holding his warm hands made your day a tad bit better.

Small clouds of warm breath fill the air as you walk towards your favorite Korean barbecue spot at a steady pace.

He'd often take you there as he formerly worked there and liked to show off his skills cooking the meat. Anything to impress you.

Actually, it's the place where you went on a first date together when he finally had the guts to ask you. Which you ofcourse immediately accepted as you had hoped for this day to come.

Now you're going back there. You're almost regulars at this rate. It's become a repeating occurrence.

It's his favorite place to go, and hotpot his favorite food... well, short after ribeye steak, but that's too expensive. Though once in a while, you liked to suprise him with it.

"I can't wait any longer. I'm starving," he said, his hand slightly squeezing yours in excitement. He had a lot of boxing training today with his best friend Woojin and now had a great appetite cause of it. "Me too, you must be after training so much you better eat well," a chuckle leaves quickly after.

The light of the familiar sign of the restaurant gives a warm color to your faces as you stand at the entrance of the place. "Good thing we're here cause I'm not waiting any longer" he rushed in playfully, not wanting to wait any longer, giving you no time to think. "Hey Gunwoo, wait for me!".

Moments later, you're both seated and all set on the soft plush sofa you know all too well. And the smell of hot beef. Which he cooked like a pro.

not too long and not too short. Perfect.

Like always, he'd feed the first piece to you with a soft smile plastered onto his face. "Open up, I made it just how you like it" he extended the piece of meat between his metal chopsticks after blowing on it to cool off.

He wouldn't want you to have to do any of the work like the gentleman he is.

"Mhm, it's perfect." You chew on the perfectly cooked meat which makes his cheeks tint a light color of pink, though he'd deny it if mentioned. Though perfection is what you'd expect of someone who had worked there as well.

After a while of enjoying the fun date together getting taken care of by your boyfriend Gunwoo, you decided to head for a bathroom break.

You stand up, getting out of the plush seating and give him a quick teasing peck on the cheek. "I'll be back in a moment, wait for me" with a chuckle you head there.

Gunwoo is really the best, you think. He always makes sure to treat me like a princess and take care of me. It's adorable, really. Even Woojin liked to tease him for it.

You reach the door and do your thing. When stepping back out into the main dining area, an unknown guy stops you as you're a few meters away from you and Gunwoo's table.

Must be a new server. You don't recognize him, though he must be a new server as he's wearing the uniform.

He gave a short greating as I akwardly returned the same. Taking a small glance at the name card, it said Yoon Sihun. "Hello, I've heard you're a regular here by my colleagues, you can call me Sihun".

"Yeah, you could say so" I said politely, though trying to get back to Gunwoo quickly". "You're pretty, you know I'd love to take you out sometime".

That didn't go unnoticed. Before you could even reply, an arm wrapped around your shoulder protectively. "Let's go back to our table, shall we?" He remained composed though giving a certain look towards the waiter. And then quickly took you back to our table at a semi rushed pace.

He's just like a golden retriever.

You both sit back down at the table, though this time you're next to him. "What was that guy all about..." he tries not to show it but sulks a little. "Are you pouting?" A small chuckle of endearment leaves your mouth. He huffs softly.

He would've been fine if it was just a compliment. He wants you to know how amazing you are. Though asking you out was too much. No way he'd let someone take you away from him. Your his. And he's planning to keep it like that. You're his special girl.

"You know I'm only for you, don't worry, hm?" You playfully poke his cheek, which makes him soften up. Though you always manage to without much effort. He's just a big softie on the inside after all.

Luckily, the date wasn't ruined by that. Though Gunwoo would just have to keep an eye on that new guy the next time. You'll just make it up by giving him extra cuddles tonight.

Just what he loves.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A/N:

Hi, I hope you all enjoyed it! Sorry if it's a little short. Feel free to request again if you'd like I'd love to write again for you!

Also, a tag for another person who asked if I could write for Gunwoo:

@vampyyjules

[baronessvonglitter]

Distractions

dbf!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 2.7K

summary: You and Dave are finding it hard to forget that one night.. and a chance encounter gives you both a second opportunity..

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. dbf!Dave. jealous!Dave. Slight angst. Alcohol consumption (no drunkenness). Fingering. Semi public/public sex. Unprotected p in v. Some teasing on Dave's part (surprise surprise). Pet names (princess, sweetheart). Age gap (reader is in her 20s, Dave in his 40s). Dave teases you about your preference for older guys but he started it so why the name-calling(?). Reader wears a dress but is otherwise undescribed. No use of y/n.

a/n: it's me, ya girl Adriana, and I have synesthesia.

I decided to bring back one of our favorite dilfs, our Suburban Murder Daddy. (although I haven't decided if he's a killer in this universe or not. we shall see). Enjoy, babes! (This is a sequel to Just a Ride but can be read as a standalone.)

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

DAVE YORK MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Dave orders a Macallan and looks around the bar while he waits. Any trace of a smile on his face disappears when he spots you across the way, seated at a table with another, older man. A work friend of his and your father's. His arm is around you as he's whispering sweet nothings in your ear. It looks to all the world like he's planning on sharing more than just a whisper with you later.

A pang of jealousy and something new, a bright and bitter feeling, shoots through his veins. He grips his glass a little tighter, trying to ignore the way his blood is heating up at the sight of you with another man. He takes a long gulp of his Scotch, trying to keep his cool as he decides what course of action to take. Going up to you and demanding to know why you're here with fucking Charles of all people would sound plaintive and greedy. You're a grown woman, you can date whoever the fuck you want.

Just not fucking Charles.

He's practically nonplussed when you get up and make your way to his direction. As you come closer your eyes meet his and he has to fight to swallow his drink.

"Hey!" You call out, seemingly surprised to run into him. "Dave.. how have you been?" You go in for a hug and Dave freezes, giving your back a light pat. He remembers how you felt in his arms, so pliant beneath him, even in the confines of the passenger seat of his car.

"I've been well, just grabbing a drink. What about you? How's life?" He manages a smile, hoping it'll hide how surprised he is to see you here.

"Good, good. I'm on a date. Again." You chuckle, but your eyes set right on him as if expecting a particular reaction.

"Oh," he says, as if caught by surprise. He casually leans against the bar, his eyes taking you in, disguising the way your words make his stomach clench with a feeling he has no right to act on. Your dress is dark blue this time, his favorite color, and he wonders if you knew he'd be here tonight. Maybe Charles mentioned it and you suckered him into coming here, hoping to run into him.

He doesn't allow himself the freedom of thinking that.

"Another date, huh? With, uh.. Charles, huh?" He cranes his neck to give the fellow a good look, pretending he hadn't been green with jealousy over you just minutes ago. "How's this one going? Is he treating you right?" In all the unanswered texts from you he has in his phone, you never texted him about your date, and now he figures why. The last guy was an idiot and maybe you knew it from the moment you accepted the date, and that was why you asked Dave to rescue you. But Charles is older, less prone to being pushy about getting into your panties. He wants to ask if you've developed a habit for older men, but he knows it'd be out of line. He can't risk knowing he's hurt by seeing you with someone else.

"Yeah, it's great. We started talking at my dad's dinner party last week." There's a glimmer in your eye that compels Dave to ask for more details, to get the nitty-gritty of what exactly you've done while he's been in radio silence with you.

But he's good at keeping his composure. For now.

"That right?" He looks over at the table again and sees Charles there, but he's on his phone, likely taking an important call. "Has he started to bore you yet with talk of his golf game?"

"Dave," you gently chide him. "He was talking about you.. he thinks very highly of you."

"Does he now? That's nice to hear. What has he said?"

"Just that you're one of the best in the agency," you tell him honestly, your eyes shining with the tickle it gives you to compliment him.

"Can't help talking shop, even on a date, huh?" He downs the last of his Scotch and puts a bill on the bar, covering the drink and a good sized tip. "So why him?"

You shrug, even though your expression gives the truth away. "I like him.. and I've been lonely." You look up at him through your lashes. "You haven't been coming around lately."

"Yeah, I know," he says guiltily. "I've just been busy."

"With Julia?"

His mouth sets in a firm line. So your parents told you. He wonders if you know about the double date he went on with your folks and Julia. The whole time he was thinking about you.

"Yeah, with her," his tone is even, careful, as if to tread lightly, and a piece of his heart crumbles to see the hurt in your eyes.

"She's.. a friend," he feels the need to explain. But he knows that you already know -- Julia is a distraction.

"Oh, that's nice," you tell him, swallowing hard, forcing back the tears that threaten to spill. "Did you fuck her in your car just like you fucked me?"

He whispers your name harshly, leads you to the end of the bar where you aren't as noticeable. "Jesus! Why would you ask something like that?"

"I'm so stupid," you whisper, hanging your head. "I thought.. I thought you liked me." You sound pitiful and you know it. Even if Dave would reciprocate his feelings, he's only going to see you as a child. Still a kid despite your age. You turn to leave, hoping to forget all about this night and vow to never think about Dave York ever again.

"Wait, wait," he gently pulls you back and wipes your tears away with his thumb. "Please, don't cry, princess.." His large hands cup your face, his deep brown eyes searching yours intently.

"I do," he says quietly. "I do like you.. more than I should."

Your breath hitches, hope burgeoning in your chest. "But why would you just ignore me like that? I was really hurt by that, Dave."

"I know." He exhales a long, remorseful sigh. "You deserve better. You're young, beautiful, you have a hell of a good head on your shoulders. Don't you want to be with someone who can offer you more than what I can? Or what that fuckwad Charles can offer?"

"Are you jealous?"

"Honestly? Fuck yes, I am. He's even older than me!"

"He's only fifty."

"Still.." Dave's eyes travel across the room to see Charles looking around, a frown on his face. "Were you planning on sleeping with him? Or have you already done that?"

There's something honest about your clear, open gaze. "The last person I slept with was you," you whisper.

The memory of it is still fresh in his mind, and hearing you talk so matter-of-factly about it isn't helping keep his growing need in check. "You know.. I can still taste you.."

Heal pools in your lower belly and, as if your body has been preparing for this very moment, a little slick runs out of you, into the gusset of your panties.

"What do I taste like?" you ask, wanting to keep the game on, hoping it'll lead where you think it's going to lead.

"Like the sweetest peach, or a sip of the finest wine," he whispers back.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.."

Your words ignite a fire that he's been trying to smother. Despite his best efforts he finds himself drawn to you, pulled in by the confession that mirrored his own unbidden thoughts. "Don't say things like that, princess.. it's not fair."

"What's not fair is you leaving me the way you did.. I wasn't happy with just one time." You recall the days spent after your night with him, waiting for a call, your heart leaping with joy each time you heard the doorbell, but it was never Dave on your doorstep.

Dave clenches his jaw, your words hitting him like a punch to the gut. The image of you, panting and wanting, flashes through his mind, and his body starts to respond in kind. "You're making it really hard to be a gentleman right now, princess.."

"I don't want you to be a gentleman, Dave. I want just the opposite."

His restraint snaps and he pins you to the bar, pressing against you from behind. You're in a dark, secluded area of the bar, with no one paying you any mind, but he doesn't care if anyone sees. Let that idiot Charles get an eyeful. Dave is the one you want after all. He kisses the junction of your neck and shoulder, entranced by the scent of your perfume, something sultry and warm, just like you.

"I could do whatever I want to you.. right here.. and no one would even know," Dave utters.

Your eyes flutter shut, goosebumps rising on your flesh, your nipples already pebbling under your bra. You shudder, and it doesn't escape him that you press back against him, your ass seeking out the growing bulge in his pants. His hands skim up your sides as he pulls you against him, giving you want you want and letting you feel how hard you're getting him. "You really want it that badly, don't you? You said you couldn't get enough after the first time?" he taunts.

"I do want it," you sigh, feeling your panties now soaked in anticipation. You imagine what it'd be like for him to unbuckle his pants, free his cock and shove your panties to the side so he can fill you, right here where someone might catch you. "I never stopped wanting you."

"Got a thing for older men?" he teases, enjoying the way your breath catches in your throat. Guilty. "Seems you do," he says as he teases one finger into your drenched cunt. You cover your gasp with your hand. "A little bit of daddy issues at play? Don't know why.. you had a pretty good childhood. I should know - I was there for most of it."

"Dave, please!" you whisper, both as a deterrent to keep from teasing about your age gap and a green light to keep stroking you.

"Do you think your date will miss you if you're gone for awhile?"

"That depends on how quick you are.."

His lips press against your pulse, the curve of his aquiline nose caressing your neck. "Oh princess.. there's nothing quick about the things I want to do to you."

Dave presses you against the wall of the alleyway behind the bar, the night air cool after the artificial warmth of the building. His lips are on your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin, working his way up to your jaw, each kiss like fire on your skin.

"You don't know how hard it was to keep away," he mutters in your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth. "Every day since the last time I got a taste of you, I've been dying to have you again." He buries his face in your neck, holding you to him tightly, as if he's afraid to let you go again. A mixture of guilt and desire swirls within him as he presses his hips up into yours, letting you feel the proof of his need. "I never should have left you that night. I should have brought you back to my place, taken my time with you. I should have fucked you senseless and made you mine."

"Make me yours now," you beg, lifting the hem of your dress.

Dave growls. a primal sound of need as your request hits his ears. His hands travel up your thighs, gripping your flesh firmly as he presses up into you. "Right here? Daddy's princess wants to get fucked in a dirty little alley?"

You shudder a sigh, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. "Yes," you respond, your face heating with what ought to be shame, but only desire resides in you.

His hands slip under your dress and his fingers sneak into your panties. "Do you still want this, princess? Tell me. because I can't think straight when you're around me."

"Yes, God, yes, Dave.." you gasp, the warmth of his digits even nicer than the silk against your skin. "Tear them off me, I don't care!"

He doesn't hesitate. Giving a fierce, possessive grunt his hands rip the scrap of lace off your hips with a sharp tug, making you cry out in surprise. "Christ.. I need you. Now."

You pull him close, quickling unbuckling his belt and dipping your hand into his pants. Your touch sneaks past the waistband of his boxers, igniting sparks of pleasure that course through his body. "Fuck, sweetheart," he murmurs, leaning in to capture your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue exploring greedily.

With your legs hooked around him he presses you to the wall and he positions himself at your entrance. "Tell me again that you want me," he begs. "I need to hear it."

"I want you.. I want you so bad," you plead.

His hips thrust forward and he sinks into you slowly, allowing you a moment to adjust to him again. You're tight and wet around him, a vise grip around his throbbing dick. The sound of his whispered name coming from your luscious lips only serves to amplify the intensity of the pleasure, and he rocks into you slow and deep.

"You're so damn tight, princess.. so damn good.."

He begins to pick up the pace, his body moving against yours in a smooth, controlled rhythm, but his control slips at the sound of his name from your lips, his movements becoming more urgent as he loses himself to the heat and ecstasy of being inside you. He hitches your legs higher around his hips, driving into you harder, his body a tense, coiled need against yours. You give a high-pitched moan, screaming his name with every thrust, the shoulders his crisply-ironed shirt balled up in your fists as you cling to him for dear life.

Dave is lost to the sound of your voice, your body responding to his every move, driving him wild. "Fuck, that's it.. scream for me, sweetheart. Say my name." He drives into you harder, deeper, his breath coming out in rough gasps as he takes you, his hips slamming against yours. "God!" you moan, long and loud as you come hard around him.

The sound of your orgasm, the feel of you clenching around him, is too much. Dave's release hits him like a freight train, his own climax hitting him with the force that makes his vision go white. "Jesus Christ, sweetheart," he mumbles. He lets out a low, guttural groan as he buries his face in your neck, his body shuddering against yours as he comes. riding out the waves of pleasure coursing through him.

You whimper as he finishes, holding him close. "Oh.. my.. god," you whisper.

Dave holds you against him, his body still shuddering involuntarily as he tries to regain his breath, his brain struggling to process the intensity of what they'd just done. "Jesus Christ, sweetheart, that was just.. fuck." He leans in and buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing soft, breathless kisses against your skin as he holds you in his arms, savoring the feeling of being close to you.

You give a shaky laugh, still trying to catch your breath. "I don't think I've ever come that quickly.."

Dave lets out a gruff chuckle at your words, his body still buzzing from the aftermath of his release. He nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair as he triest to recover. "That makes two of us, princess. I don't think I've ever come that hard, either."

"There's no way I can go back to my date now," you chuckle.

His arms tightening around you. "You're not going back to him. You're coming home with me."

You lick your lips. "Really?"

His eyes darken as he watches the seemingly innocent gesture. "Yeah, princess. Really. I'm not letting you go back to him. You're mine tonight."

"Yes," you whisper.

Dave's heart soars at your quiet agreement. "Good. Let's get out of here, sweetheart." He carefully lowers your legs from around his waist, straightening your skirt and helping you regain your bearings. He slips your ruined panties into his pocket, a keepsake for later, as he offers his arm and leads you away to his car.

tags: @lilac-boo @604to647 @joelalorian @tateypots @letsgobarbs @yorksgirl

@inept-the-magnificent @bunniboo0015 @professionalpromqueen

@cathsteen @itwasntimethatdidit40 @megangovier @evolnoomym

@probablyreadinsmut @untamedheart81 @joelmillerswife9

@ariundercovers @axshadows @sawymredfox @yxtkiwiyxt

[m1ckeyb3rry]

MIRA WAIT HEAR ME OUT ON ROADKILL FOR LUOCHA (are you surprised?) literally just combed through that event post, also that sperm banner is sending me to the orbit TT hehe roadkill sounds like a banger i’m so excited to read the others too!! ❤︎

── WHERE PLUM FLOWERS BLOOM

Synopsis: You don't know it, but you love Luocha — or perhaps you've always known it, somehow, but it's only through the passage of time and his eventual departure that you realize just what he means to you.

HSR Masterlist

Divider: @/saradika-graphics

Pairing: Luocha x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Content Warnings: i forget if there's anything that makes this f!reader but possibly that, another nonsensical m1ckeyb3rry drop with 0 elaboration just vibes, idk anything about luocha i was just making it up #allinmyhead, mentions of blood and like. ritualistic abuse/injury (😭?) NOT TOO EXPLICIT THOUGH it's just mentioned, partially epistolary, luocha is down mf bad, in terms of characterization/worldbuilding/relationship development we have no characterization/worldbuilding/relationship development, uhm. i think that is sufficient lmk if i missed anything though

A/N: HELLO KOU and congrats on being the first request to escape development hell KSDHF thank you for sending an ask for my event!! hehe roadkill was going to be very screwy with concnurrent timelines and whatnot so instead of going for a 1:1 au thing i took that inspiration instead and made it a bit vague and whatnot 😪 i can only hope that i did not butcher your beloved...i have done my best KLSDHF

Dear Luocha,

It is strange, calling you that. To me you will always be someone else, someone with a dearer name, but if this is who you are now, then I must accept it — though I beg of you not to change anymore, lest you be unrecognizable entirely upon your return! Although, as you once said, there is a certain charm in that, in getting to know you entirely over again. Anyways, I am sure that at your heart of hearts you will always remain the same, so perhaps I should not fuss quite so much.

It is my sincerest hope that we may be reunited once more. There was much left unsaid upon our last meeting…but it is not something to be written in letters. Some discussions can only be had in person; I think this may be one such case, where the words cannot be found nor believed unless they are spoken. Though I know you always say you are ten times more eloquent on paper than aloud, so perhaps you would disagree; well, if that is what you will! But I shall keep my silence until you are before me once more.

Ever yours,

Y/N

You first met him ducked behind the marble walls of the church, standing on his tip-toes and extending his arm towards the laden boughs of a plum tree, resembling a bird on the brink of taking flight. For a moment you were still, watching as he plucked one of the riper fruits off the end of the branch, rolling it in between his fingers with an appreciative grunt, and then you took a single step towards him, crushing pink-white petals underfoot when you did.

His green eyes met yours at the instant his teeth broke the delicate skin of the plum, and panic sparked when he bit down, juice wetting his lips as he hastily chewed, swallowing that single morsel before tossing the entire fruit away and hiding his hands behind his back, bowing at you.

“My apologies,” he said. “I have been remiss. Did the teachers send you to collect me for our lessons? It isn’t a good excuse, I know, but it truly was a moment of distraction, nothing more.”

Even back then, he spoke with the cool, detached grace of a priest, though he was as lowly born as you. Unlike you, however, he had been bestowed with a divinity upon his birth, or so it seemed, and therefore at such a young age he had ascended to a status you would never reach.

You knew his name already, had heard it whispered throughout the shining capital a million times over, that pretty, delicate word which meant prince of lilies, and before you could stop yourself it was falling from your tongue. How sweet it tasted, how melancholy, and you said it again and once more for good measure, your eyes dropping to the purple stains upon his fingertips so that you could avoid his scrutiny.

“You come here to hide, right?” you said, surprising yourself with your boldness. His hands curled into fists disguised by the flowing fabric of his white robes, but you saw them, saw the way his tendons flexed momentarily, and for some reason felt entirely relieved by the fleeting display of humanity. “I won’t tell them.”

“You won’t?” he said dubiously. You shook your head. He regarded you carefully, and then he nodded, beckoning you closer. You did so at once, caught up in the lily-scented headiness of his presence, and when he dropped a plum in your hand, your fingers curled over it instinctively. “Good.”

“Good?” you said. He smiled, and you could tell based on the slowness of its dawning that it was not something he did readily nor frequently, so you were quick to return it with one of your own.

“Yes, it’s good,” he said. “Thank you…Y/N.”

It didn’t occur to you for many days that you had never told him what your name was, and by then the time for asking had long since passed, so you were left to forget the topic, except on those days when he was very close, his breath fluttering over your collarbones as you thought to yourself that there must’ve been a meaning to it all, one that you might be able to discern upon further consideration but did not yet dare to.

Dear Luocha,

Sometimes, I wonder what the weather must be like where you are. Is it sunny, or is it raining? I hope that you are in the kind of place that is in an eternal springtime, for I know you have never been fond of the cold, no matter how brave of a face you put forth. I am sure you are laughing in that way of yours — and if you are not, humor me as if you are, alright? — at such a childish notion. What sort of a place is forever caught in the time when flowers first bloom? It is unrealistic and bizarre, but I think it would make you happy, so you mustn’t blame me for imagining.

I am so frightened. In the worst of my dreams, those flowers are bullets and you are surrounded by hellfire and I do not know when I will see you again and I worry, I do worry…The baker was selling plum tarts the other day. I thought of you but did not buy one. 

Ever yours,

Y/N

He was more mischievous than he let on, more mischievous than one of such a controlled voice and refined stature ought to be. You first learned of this proclivity when skipping your afternoon lessons and sitting where the shadows of the plum tree and the church intersected went from a coincidence to a habit; he was incorrigible, really, always encouraging you to stay at his side for a minute longer, to braid ribbons and weeds into the locks of gold which were beginning to spill over his shoulders, in accordance with the holy customs of the land.

“They mean to make me one of their priests some day,” he said, lying with his head in your lap and his eyes closed. A butterfly rested on the tip of his nose, flapping its wings lazily with every breath he took. The first time such a thing had happened, you had been awed, but now you did not bat an eye, for such occurrences were common with him.

“Haven’t they always?” you said, twirling the ends of his hair around your index finger. “You were born for such a role.”

“Maybe,” he said, turmoil flashing over his face, darkening it in the way thunderclouds darkened even the loveliest of sunsets. 

“You don’t want it?” you guessed. He chuckled.

“Am I so obvious?” he said.

“Only to me,” you said. “But that comes as no surprise.”

“No,” he said. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

Dear Luocha,

You might tease me, but I am realizing more and more that you were the only person that mattered to me I could consider a friend. Oh, I can picture how you would snort at that now, but it really is the case. I miss you more and more with each day that passes…but I should not bore you with the trivial details of my longing!

How have you been? I haven’t received any letters from you in some time. I ask the postmaster nearly every day — I think he has your address memorized at this point! My parents are asking after you as well, though of course they call you by your other name, your true one, and they still believe you are on some great pilgrimage instead of fighting in this senseless war. Maintaining such a lie is difficult, especially to my mother, who has always been so discerning, but I have not failed you yet, and I do not plan on doing so in the future.

Ever yours,

Y/N

Watching them break his spirit was difficult, perhaps the most difficult thing you had borne unwilling witness to. You yourself had been assigned to an archival position in the church upon graduating with mediocre grades — there had never been any hopes that you would grow to be someone of note, and you had lived up to the expectations placed before you entirely and without complaint. You had no interest in being important or highly regarded, not when you saw what it did to him, not when there was still sun and summer to live for. 

A priest’s life amounted to a gilt of austerity painted over a heartwood that was rotting away from hedonism. Yet he was not like that, he was a verdant herb or a pale flower, and so he was too malleable to break, too incorruptible, ignoring their cajoling and bribery with the resolute dignity of a martyred saint. 

But of course there were other ways to convince a man, and so he would come to you in that place secluded from the world, marks littering the twin apples of his cheeks, turning them faded and blue and mottled, the sigils branded into his forehead reddening into scars that would only vanish when he complied.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he told you one day, your collar clenched in his fist, the skin over his knuckles split in shapes referring to the king of the gods. His eyes burned green and violent as they bored into yours, and droplets of blood welled in their corners, threatening to fall if he so much as blinked. “Isn’t that funny? They are remaking me in their image, and it doesn’t even hurt.”

You wanted to tell him that it hurt you, that you ached for him, every lacerating rune on his arm burning into your throat as he explained to you what each meant with the flat detachment of a professor, as if the two of you were reading from a textbook instead of the very veins that ran along the angle of his elbow. But that hardly made sense, because your skin remained unmarred and your blood unspilled, so you didn’t say anything to the effect.

“I don’t want you to be remade,” you said instead, quietly and softly. “I want you to stay the same. I want you to stay as you are.”

“I don’t have a choice,” he said, and abruptly every righteous emotion blazing within him was extinguished and he slumped forward. “No matter what I do, I will become someone different. Whether I accept my fate or run from it, I cannot remain the person you met for much longer.”

“You can,” you said weakly, and when he tucked his face against the crook of your neck, your fingers tangled in his hair of their own volition. “Please. Don’t become someone I don’t know.”

You felt more than heard him snickering, his amusement dry and sardonic. You frowned, and though he had no way of knowing, he shifted and exhaled in what you knew amounted to an apology.

“If I ever become someone you don’t know, I’ll reintroduce myself to you, and you can meet me again,” he murmured. “I might be twisted and bent and wrong in some places, but whatever is left of me, you can learn at your leisure. Is that some consolation?”

“As long as you promise you will come back to me,” you said.

“No one can change me enough not to,” he said. “Not the church and not the world.”

Dear Luocha,

Dozen eggs

Bag of flour

Fruit (which is in season?)

Yarn (sweater needs mending, check color)

My apologies, I have used this letter as a bit of a shopping list. I hope you do not mind it; I don’t have anything more interesting to say, so it’s for the best, anyways. If you are reading this, please write back with any suggestions you might have for my next trip to the market.

Ever yours,

Y/N

He kissed you only once, the day after they scrawled incantations over his heart and told him it was theirs now. Your back was to the plum tree, his hand cradling the nape of your neck so that it received the brunt of the bark’s ire in lieu of the slivers of skin exposed by your uniform. He loomed over you, surprisingly intimidating, wearing a halo of afternoon sun and a cloak of autumn wind, nigh-seraphic in both stature and countenance.

His free hand guided yours to cover the place where the verses came to a full stop before he moved his lips against your own, and it was strange, for you had always imagined him to taste sweet like the fruit he preferred, but it was salt and bruise and gunmetal that invaded your mouth like a foreign entity, tracing along your tongue and heaving, panting, desperate and unsure.

Only when he drew back did you pull your hand from his chest, catching your breath while he did the same. Your palm came away bloody, the red shimmering with a preternatural, blessed power, and before you could stop it, your eyes widened in horror. 

You wiped it off on the grass in a hurry, and neither of you spoke of the day again.

Dear Luocha,

They say the war will be over soon. Is that true? Does that mean you will be home soon? I have heard many details of your exploits, which is the only reason I am not more worried than I already am. They speak of a swan-warrior with a silver sword and eyes like cold gemstones, who fights with the grace of a bird and the delicacy of a blossom. It is you, I am sure of it, though no one else would ever consider such a thing. The next High Priest, vanished to study the ways of the blade…after everything they did to carve you in their image, it would be akin to spitting in their faces. They still think you are absorbed in meditation at the sunken temples; how foolish they are, how naive, how certain of themselves and their powers. 

All of them walk around with such swagger and pride, so assured that they managed to turn even you into one of their meek little sheep. It is all I can do to fight back a smile, for I alone know that you have flown far from this place, and whatever becomes of you now, it will be your own choice, not theirs. 

Ever yours,

Y/N

There was no moon in the sky on the day he left the city. His irises reflected the torchlight as he told you in hushed tones that he meant to change his name and join the army, to fight against the invading armies that infested your borders like swarming insects.

“Why?” you said. “Since when have you been a patriot?”

“I have no particular love for our nation,” he said. “But the idea of freedom, of suffering, even of death…I am so fascinated by it. These things that our professors and priests hid from us all our lives, I want to experience them, I want to imbue their essences into my being so thoroughly that I cannot unknow them no matter how hard I try.”

“I see. But what will the elders think? They won’t let you go without a fight, you must know that,” you said. When he was like this, there was no point in arguing. So rarely was he stubborn that on those few occasions he was, it was a proper and impossible obstacle to overcome; you had long ago learnt that there was no sense in even attempting. The only recourse was logical and careful consideration of his argument — for this was another thing, too, there was always a reasoning to it all, and usually said reasoning was flawless in the way of a knifepoint, inevitably swaying you to his side.

“I’ve already left them a letter saying that I was called to the sunken temples to meditate on the future of this war. They will be delighted that I have finally allowed the whispers of the divine to take shape in my mind, so they won’t question it in the slightest,” he said promptly, and when, as usual, you could not find fault in it, you sighed, squeezing your eyes closed so you didn’t have to look at him.

“You will be careful, won’t you?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “And I’ll write to you as often as I can.”

“Every day?” you said.

“If the postmaster permits,” he said. “Though I’ll have to change my name; mine is too distinctive at present. I’ll make sure it’s something you recognize, though.”

“Okay,” you said, a sorry, pathetic lump forming in your throat. “Okay,  as long as — as long as I know it’s you.”

“Would you forget me that easily?” he said. You shook your head, immediately and furiously, and this prompted a gentle hum from him. “Don’t mourn me while I still walk this earth; save your sorrow for when I am departed.”

“Okay,” you said again, because if you said anything further, you were afraid you would not be able to maintain your cool facade, and if that happened then you would be lost entirely, a fumbling, feeble child in the dark of the night.

There was a silence, and then the silk of his gloves brushed against your cheek. You bit your tongue and tried to think only of the patterns bursting behind your eyelids — spiderwebs, cracks in cobblestone, the thin arteries of leaves, anything but him and how tenderly he lingered even as the window for his chance at fleeing grew narrower and narrower.

“You won’t open your eyes?” he said. You shook your head wordlessly, slowly at first but then faster, faster, and it took every bit of strength you had not to chase after his wrist and cling to it when he moved back. “If that is what you want. Farewell, Y/N.”

“Farewell,” you stammered out. There was something else begging to be said, both of you knew it, but neither of you had that bravery, that wherewithal, and so it could only hang in between you both, nearly tangible in its weight yet refusing to properly coalesce for good. “Don’t leave me for too long.”

Don’t leave me at all.

Only when his footsteps grew faint did you open your eyes, and only when you were sure he would not turn around did you allow your lower lip to tremble unchecked. As the white tails of his coat vanished from your view, you began to weep, and you hated yourself for it, but you could not stop yourself from wrapping your arms around your torso and rocking yourself, wondering who he would be if you ever had the chance to see him again, wondering if you had squandered your last glimpse at the man you — at the man you —

Dear Luocha,

The longer you are gone, the harder it is for me to remember the person I met in the shade of that plum tree. The exact shade of your eyes…the way you smiled…the scent of your clothes after you washed them…day by day, you become more ‘Luocha’ and less the man I grew up with. When I think of you now, it is in abstract images, in the click of the typewriter and the sting of a papercut. I miss you and I do not even know what, exactly, it is that I miss.

Supposedly the war is over and those who fought will come home soon. It has been some time since I last heard from you, and even longer since you wished me farewell on the street that night; the rest of the world has kept moving, but I alone remain frozen in place. My parents think I should wed soon, for I am nearing the age for such things, and maybe they would be right in calling me unreasonable for refusing — however, they do not know the truth which I have steadfastly kept from you thus far but cannot fathom hiding any longer: I love you. Isn’t that such a stereotypical thing? Go on, then. Laugh all you want, but I do. I love you, and I regret that I never told you, that I only realized when it was too late to do anything about it but bawl to myself in a most sniveling, unbecoming way.

Come back. Allow me to cry and tell you these things and humiliate myself entirely; let me learn you again at my leisure, as you once promised I could; tell me who you are now, if you are Luocha or someone else entirely; hate me or love me in return, whichever you please. But come back.

Ever yours,

Y/N

Dear Y/N,

Eloquence is my Well, I have always You don’t I am trying, but the words How have you stolen this from me? I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.will be home soon. 

Ever yours,

Luocha A person who will always come back to you

[dee-writes-angst]

FORGET ME NOTS (Chapter Two)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY settling into The Autumn Court is scary and intimidating especially when a certain fire-blooded male takes a liking to you.

CONTENT WARNINGS vague descriptions of smut, mentions of abuse, Beron (yeah, yall, he's mentioned), Ianthe (cough, cough), vulnerable convos, flashbacks to calanmai, pregnancy, sad Eris :(

AUTHORS NOTE I know this is much shorter than the first chapter, but when I say I struggled to write this chapter, I mean I STRUGGLED. Anywho, I apologize if you guys feel like the pacing of this chapter is kind of fast, I was trying to get a lot of information in all at once so we could move on to the good stuff. Hope you enjoy ;)

SERIES MASTERLIST

As dawn broke over the Autumn Court, the first rays of sunlight crept through the tall, arched windows of my chamber, casting a warm glow that promised a new day. Despite the beauty it heralded, my heart was heavy with secrets I carried, especially now, facing the prospect of daily walks with Eris—a constant reminder of the brother he did not know he shared with me in such a profound way.

I found Eris waiting in the courtyard, his posture relaxed against the cool morning air that whispered through the turning leaves. His presence was both a comfort and a curse, wrapped in the guise of courtly duty.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice carrying that ever-present hint of mischief that seemed less charming today, more a wall I needed to scale or perhaps fortify.

I mustered a smile, tight-lipped and brief. “Eris.”

He seemed to notice my cool demeanor, his eyebrows lifting slightly in amusement—or was it challenge? “Shall we begin?”

The gardens of the Autumn Court were undoubtedly beautiful, but I walked beside Eris with a stiffness in my shoulders, an invisible armor against the potential wounds of getting too close. Every step was a reminder of the line I walked, balancing between necessity and fear.

“It’s beautiful here,” I commented, a safe observation as we passed a sprawling bed of flowers, their vibrant hues a stark contrast to the muted turmoil within me.

“It is,” he responded, his eyes briefly meeting mine before returning to the path ahead. “The court has its ways of ensnaring you with beauty, all the while hiding its thorns.”

I couldn’t help but snort softly at that. “Sounds familiar,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Eris caught the words, though, and his smile deepened. “Indeed. But sometimes, we find that even thorns have their purpose.”

We walked in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the rustle of leaves and the distant call of court birds. I felt his gaze on me several times, curious or calculating, I couldn’t tell.

“About last night—” I began, but Eris raised a hand, halting my words.

“Today, let’s set aside the past and dealings of courts for now. Let’s walk, talk, and be unburdened, at least for a moment.”

Reluctantly, I nodded, accepting the temporary ceasefire.

Our path took us deeper into the garden, where the foliage grew thicker and the outside noises fell away. Here, the air was cooler, the shadows deeper, and the sense of seclusion more pronounced. Eris seemed more at ease in this part of the garden, his steps unhurried, his eyes occasionally catching the light in a way that softened the usual sharpness.

"This is one of my favorite parts of the garden," he shared, his voice almost contemplative. "There's a peace here that's hard to find elsewhere in the court."

I looked around, taking in the dense greenery that enveloped us, the serene quiet. "It's like a different world," I admitted.

"Yes," he agreed, his gaze lingering on a particularly dense cluster of trees. "A world apart, where one can forget, if only for a moment, the burdens waiting beyond those trees."

As we walked, the conversation slowly shifted from the impersonal — comments on the weather and the garden — to more personal territory. Eris spoke of his childhood in the court, his voice tinged with a nostalgia that painted a picture of a boy who had run through these very paths, wild and unburdened.

I listened, the stories painting a picture of a different Eris, one who had existed before the weight of the court had fully settled upon his shoulders. It was in these stories that I found myself drawn in, my guard lowering just a notch as I began to see the man beneath the prince.

Our walk led us to a secluded spot with a bench overlooking a tranquil pond, a favorite retreat of Eris’s by his own admission. "I come here to think," he said as we sat. "Today, I wanted to share it."

Something in his tone, a rare note of sincerity, made me glance at him. "Thank you," I said quietly, the weight of my secrets making the words heavier than intended.

"Everyone needs a sanctuary," he replied, his voice low, almost reflective. "Perhaps, for now, this can be ours."

As we sat together, the morning light softening around us, a part of me wanted to believe in the sanctuary he offered. But the secrets I held tightened like a noose around my thoughts, a constant reminder of the stakes at play.

For now, this truce would have to do—a brief respite in a garden of hidden thorns.

In the quiet embrace of the garden, Eris and I sat together on a weathered stone bench, enveloped by a tranquil stillness that seemed to stretch on for eternity. The morning sun had just begun its ascent, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow upon the verdant landscape around us. The delicate fragrance of cherry blossoms lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of damp soil and the distant melody of chirping birds.

For what felt like an eternity, we remained ensconced in a shared silence, each lost in our own thoughts amidst the serene beauty of our surroundings. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy between us, a silent barrier that seemed to grow with each passing moment.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the garden, I could no longer bear the oppressive weight of my thoughts in silence. The chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves seemed to mock my inner turmoil, urging me to break free from the suffocating grip of my fears.

Finally, unable to endure the silence any longer, I mustered the courage to speak. "Eris?" The sound of my voice was barely more than a whisper, carried away on the gentle breeze that caressed the garden.

At the sound of his name, Eris stirred from his contemplative reverie, his eyes slowly opening to meet mine. There was a fleeting moment of recognition in his gaze, as if he had been expecting this interruption all along.

He regarded me with a cool detachment, a silent question lingering in the depths of his gaze. It was as though he were silently urging me to articulate the thoughts that had weighed so heavily upon my mind.

Summoning all of my courage, I pressed on, knowing that his patience was not limitless. "I need to speak with you," I said, my voice steadier now, though the weight of my confession hung heavy in the air.

For a moment, there was silence between us once more, the only sound the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Then, with a subtle nod of acknowledgment, Eris inclined his head, granting me permission to unburden myself of the secrets that had long weighed upon my soul.

(Calanmai, Fifteen Weeks Ago)

The night of Calanmai unfolded like a grand spectacle, a symphony of sights and sounds that swept through the Spring Court like wildfire. In the heart of the courtyard, beneath a sky ablaze with stars, I found myself ensnared in a whirlwind of tradition and temptation, drawn inexorably towards a destiny I could not yet fathom.

As the festivities reached their crescendo, a hush fell over the gathered throng, anticipation crackling in the air like static electricity. All eyes turned to the dais at the center of the courtyard, where Lucien Vanserra, with his mane of fiery hair and eyes that glinted like shards of emerald, stood poised to perform the Rite—the ancient ritual that ensured the flow of natural magic within the Spring Court.

I watched from the edge of the crowd, my heart pounding in rhythm with the pulsating beat of the drums that echoed through the night. Beside me, Ianthe, with her golden locks and beguiling smile, whispered honeyed words in Lucien's ear, her intentions veiled behind a facade of innocence and charm.

But I knew the truth—the truth that lurked beneath the surface, like a serpent coiled in the shadows, waiting to strike. And so, with a courage born of desperation and defiance, I stepped forward, offering myself as a sacrifice to protect Lucien from the machinations of those who sought to use him as a pawn in their deadly game.

Lucien's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief, his gaze searching mine for the truth hidden beneath the surface. And in that moment, I saw the flicker of gratitude and something deeper—a spark of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf us both.

Together, we slipped away from the crowd, seeking refuge in the sanctuary of the forest that bordered the Spring Court. In the darkness, illuminated only by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the canopy above, we found solace in each other's arms, our bodies moving in a dance of desperation and desire.

With hesitant hands, Lucien reached out to me, his touch tentative yet determined. There was a solemnity in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the sacrifice we were both willing to make in the name of saving the Spring Court from impending doom. Each movement was deliberate, as if he were navigating uncharted waters, unsure of what lay ahead.

As he undressed me, his fingers trailed feather-light over my skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The air crackled with anticipation, heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. There was a raw intensity to our connection, a primal need that pulsed beneath the surface, driving us forward even as we teetered on the edge of uncertainty.

Our kisses were slow and languid, each one a silent plea for understanding, for absolution. And as our bodies moved together in a dance as old as time itself, I felt a sense of surrender wash over me, a letting go of the fears and doubts that had plagued me for so long.

With each touch, each caress, we explored the depths of each other's souls, seeking solace in the midst of chaos. And as he spilled his essence inside me, there was a sense of release, a letting go of the burdens that had weighed so heavily upon us.

In the aftermath, we lay entwined beneath the moonlit sky, our breaths mingling in the stillness of the night. There was a peace in that moment, a fleeting respite from the storm that raged around us. And as we lay there, lost in each other's arms, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held for us—for the Spring Court, for our people.

But such thoughts were for another time, another place. In that moment, there was only us, two souls bound together by circumstance and necessity, seeking solace in the midst of turmoil.

(Autumn Court, Present Day)

"What is it, little fox?" Eris's voice, gentle yet tinged with curiosity, pierced the tranquil stillness of the autumnal garden, drawing me from the depths of my reverie. The morning sun, a soft orb of golden light, filtered through the crimson leaves of the ancient oak tree under which we sat, casting a warm glow over the secluded corner of the courtyard.

Eris reclined on the stone bench with an air of effortless grace, his features masked in an enigmatic veil of indifference. His gaze, like liquid mercury, bore into mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine, as if he could discern the turmoil that churned within me with unsettling ease.

For a moment, I hesitated, the weight of my confession heavy upon my tongue, like stones in a riverbed. The memory of Lucien, his absence a haunting specter in my heart, mingled with the uncertainty of what lay ahead, casting shadows over the fragile sanctuary we had found amidst the autumnal splendor.

Yet, despite the tempest of emotions that threatened to engulf me, there was an undeniable pull, a magnetic force that drew me inexorably towards Eris, compelling me to lay bare the truth that simmered beneath the surface.

"I—" I began, my voice trembling like the leaves that danced in the breeze, the words caught in the tangled undergrowth of my uncertainty. With a trembling hand, I reached for my tiny bump, a silent testament to the life growing within me, the fragile thread that bound me to a future fraught with peril.

"Eris… I'm scared," I confessed, the admission hanging heavy in the crisp autumn air, a fragile offering of vulnerability laid bare before him. Tears welled in my eyes, their crystalline trails reflecting the kaleidoscope of emotions that churned within me, a tempest threatening to tear me asunder.

It was a truth I had not yet found the courage to share, the truth about my unborn child, about Lucien, about the tangled web of emotions that threatened to ensnare me in their grasp. And yet, as I spoke the words aloud, I felt a sense of liberation wash over me, as if the act of vocalizing my fears had lifted a burden I had long carried in silence.

“I know,” Eris continued after a moment, his voice tinged with a quiet sadness. “When my mother would give birth, my father would have meetings with his counsel and continue about court like nothing important was happening, too caught up in his ambition to even consider loving her. He would leave her to suffer alone, to be in pain, awful pain, alone, while she brought his children into this world,” he took a breath, watching the branches of the great tree sway before looking back to the fountain sitting before us, water streaming softly and glinting in the light of the sun.

“So, once I was old enough to see how wrong it was, I joined her in the birthing rooms. I didn’t care how many times a nurse advised me against it, how much I was beaten afterwords by my father. It wasn’t about any of that. It was about her, it was about not being alone in a time of need, to not be consumed by darkness without a twinkle of light. My mother deserved better. Still does,” Eris sighs, resting his warm hand atop mine on the bench, giving it a small squeeze. “I can not promise profection, I can not promise relief, and I can not promise life, but I can promise that you will not walk in the darkness alone, that I will be right there, by your side as you scream and claw and cry until your babe joins this world. Just as I did for my mother.”

As he spoke, his warm hand found mine on the bench, offering a reassuring squeeze that spoke volumes more than words ever could. "I can't promise perfection," he continued, his gaze steady and unwavering. "I can't promise relief, or even life itself. But I can promise that you won't walk through the darkness alone. I'll be there, by your side, every step of the way."

As the last words of our shared confessions lingered in the air, the atmosphere seemed to soften, infused with a sense of understanding and acceptance. The ancient oak tree above us rustled gently, its branches swaying in a silent dance with the breeze, as if nature itself bore witness to the fragile bond we had formed in this secluded corner of the autumnal garden.

In that moment of quiet introspection, my gaze fell upon a delicate forget-me-not that had nestled itself amidst the fallen leaves at the base of the oak tree. Its petals, a soft shade of blue tinged with hues of violet, seemed to shimmer in the dappled sunlight, a beacon of fragility and resilience amidst the earthy backdrop of the garden.

A sense of recognition washed over me as I regarded the flower, its presence a poignant reminder of the vulnerability we had both shared in this fleeting moment of connection. Like the delicate bloom that dared to flourish amidst the harsh realities of autumn, we too had found strength in our shared vulnerability, forging a bond that transcended the barriers of fear and uncertainty.

With a gentle smile, I reached out to pluck the forget-me-not from its resting place, cradling it in the palm of my hand as a symbol of the bond we had forged amidst the chaos of our intertwined destinies. And as I turned to meet Eris's gaze, I knew that in this fleeting moment of shared vulnerability, we had found not only solace but hope, blooming like the delicate forget-me-not that dared to thrive amidst the changing seasons of our lives.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta

[wandanatsgf]

Pray and I Shall Answer Thee Part 2

Pairing: Aphrodite!Wanda x Follower!Reader

Word Count: 1182

Summary: You wait for months for Wanda to return, and yet she never shows. Now you're determined to get over her, but a certain goddess won't allow that.

Warning: This contains smut and oral (r receiving)

Author's note: On my old blog this was called Call and I Will Come or something like that, but I decided to rename it (hope you all don't mind),

Part 2

It has been a few months since your encounter with Wanda and she hasn't visited you since that night. Maybe it was just a one time thing to her, but to you it meant everything. Still, you were determined to get over her and you knew the perfect way to do so.

The walk to your local tavern was a long. You can already feel the cool autumn air seeping into your bones and you still have another 15 minutes to go. You pull your coat tighter around your body as you continue to walk.

The sound of a carriage makes you steer yourself off the road, letting the carriage hopefully pass you by without getting you wet. Unfortunately you weren't so lucky. You hear a loud splash and before you know it, you're soaking wet.

"Oh my gods I am so sorry darling," you hear an angelic voice say as the carriage comes to a stop.

A woman steps out of the carriage and she is one of the most beautiful women you have ever seen. Her red hair curls around her face. and her green eyes sparkle like emeralds in the moonlight. Her white dress wraps around her like wings. She looks angelic, almost godly.

"It's quite alright," you say quickly.

"No it's not. Let me take you back to my place and give you some warm, dry clothes," the woman says. Normally you wouldn't accept such an invitation from a stranger, but there is just something about her that makes you say yes.

"What's your name?" the woman asks you.

"Y/n," you say.

"Y/n," she repeats. "That's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl." You can feel yourself blush as you thank her.

"I'm Natasha."

"Well it's nice to meet you Natasha."

You climb into Natasha's carriage and the two of you converse about all sorts of topics until you make it to Natasha's home. As the carriage comes to a stop, you take in your surroundings. You're amazed at this woman's mansion that she calls a home. She was clearly much more wealthy than you.

Natasha helps you out of the carriage and inside her house. She leads you to her bedroom, which contains a closet full of the most gorgeous clothes you have ever seen.

"Here you go darling. Call for me if you need anything," Natasha says as she hands you the clothes.

"Thank you so much," you say with sincerity.

"It's really no problem," Natasha says, leaving you to change.

You strip out of your tunic and start to pull the new, soft, dry garment on when you hear a voice behind you.

"What do you think you're doing?"

You spin around and come face to face with the goddess who has been on your mind every single day since that night.

"Wanda," you breathe out.

"What are you doing?" she growls out. She looks like a predator stalking its prey.

"I'm changing," you say like it's obvious.

"No you're not," Wanda says. She pulls the garment off of you, leaving you naked. "You're not putting on her things."

"I'm sorry what?!?"

"You heard me. This would be the goddess you call Athena's clothing you are putting on and I won't allow that."

"You won't allow it?!? You're not the boss of me," you say snappily. You snatch the clothing out of Wanda's hand and put it on. You can tell you're angering Wanda, but you don't care. Not after she left you with no contact for months.

"We're leaving," Wanda says. She grabs you by the arm and pulls you towards the front door where Natasha stands.

"What do you think you're doing Wanda," Natasha yells out.

"I'm taking what's mine," she says like it's obvious. The two of them continue to argue over you as if you are some sort of property. You take this opportunity to slip out, unnoticed by the two bickering goddesses.

You had been walking for about five minutes when Wanda appears by your side.

"What do you want goddess," you ask, saying goddess snarkily.

"I have come to apologize."

"Ok. Get on with it."

"I'm sorry for not treating you properly. I haven't been with a human before and I don't quite know how to act. I know I haven't quite courted you properly and I'm sorry," she says.

"I forgive you," you mumble out. "But I want you to do better. I need to see you more. I need stability and I need to see you more, and not just when you're jealous or want something."

"I'll give you that and whatever else you wish darling. Say the word and it is yours." You smile at this.

"Right now all I want is you." This was true. You hadn't been able to get yourself off ever since that night and now that she is here you can't help yourself.

"That can be arranged," she says. You're enveloped in a cloud of red magic. When the cloud disappears you're back at your home.

"Come here," Wanda says. She grabs your hips and pulls you into her. You feel her capture your lips with her own. You moan into the kiss as her hands slip down your sides.

"Jump," you hear her say once your lips break apart. You jump up and wrap your legs around the taller woman's waist. She places her hands on your ass and walks the two of you over to your bed. She gently places you down and crawls on top of you.

"I have a lot to make up for don't I?"

"Yes you do my goddess," you say. Wanda smiles down at you. She takes your dress off, leaving you in a set of bra and panties. She lets out a low moan at the sight of you, and it makes your core tingle with excitement. Wanda places soft kisses against your collar bone while her right hand slips down to your bra covered tits. She gently gropes your left boob before taking your bra off. She throws your bra to the other side of the room and quickly attaches her lips to your nipple.

"Fuck," you moan out.

"Am I making you feel good baby?" Wanda asks.

"Yes goddess. You're making me feel so good," you say. You grab Wanda's hair and lightly pull. Wanda detaches herself from your nipple and moves straight to your core. She slips your panties off and immediately attaches her lips to your clit.

“Gods,” you moan out.

“It’s not gods honey. There’s only one god making you feel this good,” Wanda says as she sucks on your bundle of nerves. Wanda continues to suck and lick your core and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release.

“Please goddess,” you beg.

“Cum for me baby. Cum for your goddess,” she says. That’s all it takes before your release spills out onto Wanda’s tongue as she licks it all up.

"Thank you Wanda," you say.

"Anything for you darling and I'm truly sorry for my behavior. I promise I'll be better." Wanda places a gentle kiss on your lips. which you reciprocate.

"It's alright, all is forgiven," you say.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

A Broken Ankle, Karma Rules.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist is here.

authors note - another random idea that popped into my head… enjoy!!

word count - 1.4k

in which, going on a run with your fiancé of two years means harmless flirting and teasing, that is until an incident occurs and he has to carry you back to the car.

As you sat in the passenger seat of your fiancé's sleek Tesla, the soft hum of the engine filled the air. The anticipation of going on a run together at the park was palpable, as you both waited for the perfect moment to step out of the car and immerse yourselves in the fresh air and lush greenery.

You glanced over at Harry, your heart swelling with love and excitement. His curly hair framed his face in a charming disarray, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. He wore a mischievous grin, as if he knew a secret that only the two of you shared.

"Ready for our run, m’love?" Harry asked, his voice filled with eagerness.

You nodded, smiling back at him. "Definitely! Although, I have to say, you're lucky I agreed to this. Dragging me out of bed at this hour is no easy feat."

Harry knew for a fact that you weren’t a morning person.

Harry chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, come on now. You know I couldn't resist spending this time with you. Besides, it's good for us to get our blood pumping early in the morning."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Well, I hope you appreciate the effort I'm putting in here. I'm not exactly a morning person, you know."

He leaned in, his voice turning husky. "I'll make it worth your while, darling. I promise."

Feeling a surge of anticipation, you reached for your water bottles and grabbed the car keys. "Alright, let's do this! Time to step out and conquer that park."

You both hopped out of the car, the cool breeze enveloping you. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a single AirPod, holding it up to you.

"Shall we share the music?" he asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

You grinned and took the AirPod, placing it delicately in your ear, the familiar chords of ‘eye of the river’ rang through your ears, that was enough to get you motivated for the run.

As the music started to play, you noticed that Harry had already started moving, his athletic figure bounding ahead.

His back was bare seeing as the weather was insanely hot currently and he was wearing a pair of blue running shorts, and his pink Calvin kelvin’s were on display.

You could feel yourself getting slightly worked up, the cheeky git always did then when the two of you were in public.

"Hey, wait up!" you called after him, a mix of laughter and exhilaration in your voice.

He slowed down, turning back to you with a playful grin. "You better catch up, love. We've got a run to conquer together."

As you jogged side by side with your fiancé Harry, the rhythmic sound of your footsteps echoed through the crisp morning air. The park was alive with activity, but your focus remained on the playful banter and connection between you.

As you chatted about your plans for the day, Harry couldn't resist a mischievous grin. With a sudden motion, he playfully reached out and tickled your hips, causing you to let out a surprised giggle and slow down.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, swatting his hand away. "That's not fair! You're distracting me!"

Harry laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I couldn't resist. You were just too tempting. But now, I'm afraid you'll have to catch up to me.”

A competitive fire ignited within you, and you shot him a determined glance. "Challenge accepted, slowpoke. Get ready to eat my dust."

With a burst of energy, you picked up the pace and raced past Harry, your feet pounding against the pavement. The wind rushed through your hair as you surged forward, leaving him momentarily in your wake.

Glancing over your shoulder, you called out with a triumphant smile, "Come on, Harry! I thought you said you were a professional runner!"

Harry laughed, his voice filled with mock protest. "Oh, you're in for it now! Just you wait, I'll catch up!"

You continued to push yourself, feeling the thrill of the friendly competition fueling your every stride. The playful taunts and laughter added a layer of joy to the run, reminding you of the deep connection you shared.

Soon enough, Harry's footsteps grew louder behind you as he closed the gap. With a final burst of determination, he ran alongside you, matching your pace.

"There you are," Harry said, a playful grin on his face. "I told you I'd catch up."

You grinned back, the exhilaration of the run shining in your eyes. "Well, I had to give you a head start, didn't I? Just to make it a fair race."

Harry's laughter echoed through the park as you both continued to run side by side, the competitive spirit subsiding to be replaced by a shared sense of joy and camaraderie.

You know, Harry," you said with a playful smirk, "I think I might have to start calling you 'Slowpoke' as your official nickname."

Harry chuckled, his competitive spirit ignited. "Oh, really? We'll see about that. Prepare to eat my dust, love."

With a wink, you took off, your feet hitting the pavement with purpose. You could hear Harry's footsteps behind you, gradually fading as you increase your pace.

Feeling mischievous, you decided to test the limits. You picked up even more speed, savouring the thrill of the wind rushing past you. Unbeknownst to you, Harry slowed down, taking a short water break to quench his thirst.

As you continued to jog ahead, revelling in the playfulness of the moment, your foot caught on an uneven patch of ground, causing you to lose your balance. Pain shot through your ankle, and you let out a cry of distress.

Hearing your scream, Harry's heart skipped a beat. Without a second thought, he abandoned his water bottle and sprinted in the direction of your voice. Fear and concern propelled him forward, his mind focused on reaching you as quickly as possible.

When he finally caught sight of you, lying on the ground and cradling your injured ankle, his heart sank. Kneeling down beside you, he gently cupped your face with his hands.

"Love, are you okay? What happened?" Harry asked, his voice filled with worry.

You winced, tears welling up in your eyes. "I... I think I’ve broken… my ankle. It hurts so much, H..Harry."

Concern etched across his face, Harry carefully examined your ankle. "Let me help you up. We'll get you to the hospital, alright?"

As Harry saw the pain etched on your face, he made a firm decision. "Lovie, I'm going to carry you to the car. I don't want you putting any weight on that ankle."

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. "O-okay, H…. Thank you."

Gently, Harry scooped you up in his arms, his strength enveloping you. Despite his efforts to be careful, each step caused a jolt of pain to shoot through your ankle. Whimpers escaped your lips, and you clung tightly to him, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

The sobs that wracked your body echoed in the air, and Harry's heart ached at the sound. He tightened his hold on you, his voice filled with soothing reassurance. "Shh, love. I'm here. I've got you. Just hold on, we're almost back at the car."

His comforting words offered a glimmer of solace amidst the pain. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, and his steady heartbeat served as a calming rhythm. He continued to carry you, navigating the path with careful steps, determined to get you to safety as quickly as possible.

With each passing moment, his tender support and unwavering presence began to ease the anguish. You clung to him, seeking solace in his embrace, knowing that you were not alone in this moment of vulnerability.

Finally, you reached the car, and Harry gently settled you in the passenger seat. He quickly moved around to the driver's side, his eyes filled with concern as he started the engine.

"You're doing so well, love," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness. "We'll get you to the hospital, it’s bruising really quickly, m'love, and I'll take care of you."

As the car pulled away from the park, you let out another sob, the emotions overwhelming you. Harry reached over, taking your hand in his, his touch a comforting anchor in the midst of your pain.

He glanced at you, his eyes filled with compassion. "It's alright to cry, love. Let it out. I'm here for you."

That was the last time you were going to be narcissistic ever again if this is what it led to.

But you know what they say:

Broken Ankle, Karma Rules.

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 61 Deadbeat Posting

Hello, kind void. Let's get into it, shall we?

Bad TL of editor's notes:

First page: 交差する思惑-!! [kouki suru omowaku-!!] Intersecting motives-!! Last page: 座村の娘, 一般社会に紛れて... [Samura no musume, ippan shakai ni magirete...] Samura's daughter, blending in with the general public...

What is Going On?!

So, uh... is there a Maury or Dr. Phil in the Kagurabachi universe? Wait, no, let's start with the best part of the chapter:

lmao

THANK YOU for this little breather. It's still not enough but seeing Chihiro get babied by his new ninja maids is fucking hilarious. They really do just swoop in and take care of whoever their charge is- no wonder Samura put his foot down early on with them. Would have been the perfect time to learn their names too, but Hokazono-sensei must have a deadly allergy to names in text boxes.

If we're gonna be spending quality time with these guys, shouldn't we know who they are though? This isn't a Bandana or Ice Lady scenario; they're sticking around for at least the rest of this Samura-specific mini arc and interacting with Chihiro directly. If it's commentary on how they see themselves as tools, that's one thing. But I think this is just more of the same stinginess from the author considering we got a different name drop at the end of the chapter. I guess we shouldn't expect to keep seeing them after a certain point? I swear, if we have to wait for more volume extras to get these guys' names despite spending a good chunk of an arc with them...

Prep those zombie AU fics/fan arts

Welp, there's no doubt about it now- Uruha's actual status is yet another dangling thread that will be followed up on eventually. Let's toss it on the pile with all the rest.

Got some interesting lore implications about how the Lifelong Contract with the bearer of the blade might affect their body too thanks to this. I'm honestly more interested in that bit of information than anything else from this scenario, since we are still lacking on a lot of particulars about the nature of entering a contract with these swords.

I'm not really mentally prepared for whatever's happening to Uruha himself; if he's alive, I will be mad that I got jebaited and call hax like the petty baby I am. If his corpse is being used in unethical experiments... I do love me some horror but I will be Very Sad and Upset that it happened to Uruha. He deserves some dignity after what Samura did to him. No matter what though, the Kamunabi are doing some dastardly shit in secret right now, so... hooray one more thing we have to sit tight and wait to learn about.

So... is the general public OK with giant owl eyes darkening the skies 24/7 all across Japan? Maybe we're not meant to think too hard about this and just accept that it's happening because it looks cool. It's fun to imagine Samura brooding on some rooftop, waiting to use Crow to teleport to the first Enchanted Blade signal he detects though. Just like a ping! ZOOP! murder time! kinda thing.

Questions about Chihiro's contract to Enten aside for now (like so many others), if he can't even draw the sword without summoning a raid boss then how is he going to fight? Not something I think we'll have to wait too long to see so I'm actually looking forward to the next set of action scenes to see how Chihiro defends himself (with the Masumi's help). I hope it comes with some lore about how the contract works too but that could also come from whatever's going on with Uruha so I won't be pinning all my hopes on Chihiro here. He's got enough burdens already- and is about to add one more by acting as a bodyguard to an unassuming high school girl.

Infinite Aura Loss

"Call up one of those trashy daytime talk shows ASAP."

So... rather than deal with the Samura problem with all the stuff we've got set up already, we get yet more complications by revealing that not only did Samura have a daughter, he had straight sex at least once. And was even married before becoming a divorcee deadbeat dad who "killed" his daughter instead of trying to work things out. Damn this guy has issues.

Three years ago is when the Kamunabi rounded up all the Bearers into the Shame Boxes (sanso) after Kunishige's death- maybe this was the turning point for Samura. Based on the wording it's not like Samura's the only one who had loved ones to consider; he just chose the nuclear option and asked his ninja maids to set his daughter free from him for some reason. Useless to speculate until we hear it from the man himself but damn. Cutting your child out of your life so completely that she forgets you exist (and vice-versa!) is a bit harsh isn't it? She's going to have some serious bullshit to deal with very soon. Way to do all the wrong things out of guilt buddy. Did you at least keep up with the child support payments?

Mutton Chops not having any qualms about using an innocent girl as a pawn to get to Samura speaks volumes about why Samura didn't want her involved though. This org is not getting any praise for doing the right thing when we finally learn about them.

I'm not sure I like this development but it gets put into the "wait and see" category like so many other things have at this point. Hokazono's delivered pretty consistently so far so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt that there will be good payoffs for complicating things even further. Honestly? As long as this mini arc ends with more questions answered than asked, I'll be content.

Look, typical shounen fanservice! Kind of!

But of course we got a shitton of new questions about how this masking sorcery works, how they're gonna find her if no one can recognise her as Samura's child, what else the Kamunabi might have done with these powers at their disposal, if the Masumi did this on the down-low or if the Kamunabi also knew, and why the heck does Ms. Masumi have so many different types of sorcery she can do anyway? Transport, technique recovery, now hiding identities! I gotta learn why these ninjas can do so many things that seem to contradict the established rule of "one sorcery per person unless you're special enough to have two". Are the Masumi our gateway into learning about sorcery applications beyond one's innate abilities, such as channeling spirit energy into special objects designed for a purpose like the barriers Shiba configured to protect the Rokuhiras? Or is Ms. Masumi's ability something along the lines of being able to manipulate ink/inscriptions to invoke different effects? I'm going crazy...

I think I'll have an easier time if I just sit back and accept that a lot of things are going to happen because of the cool factor instead of any deep logic. It's not fair to the author, I know, but it's the only way I can keep my sanity right now. I'll be really happy if the doubts get shoved back in my face though.

War Orphan Society?

We didn't need to meet you guys yet either!

Hiruhiko's recovering offscreen so we get different folks collected by John for the Hishaku's PoV this time. Wonder how long they'll stick around before they get murked.

Kuguri (久々李) is the only name we got this chapter. 久 (ku) means ancient, a long time, or to remain unchanged. The intentions could be conveying a long and happy life, patience/perseverance, or just a name that will never sound out-of-date. 李 (ri) means plum tree, judge, official, or jailer for resilience/strength or justice and fairness (々 is just a kanji repetition marker). I'll go with [ancient plum tree] because it's cool! But obviously I'm not at all trustworthy on this so it's best to be sceptical.

We don't know the girl's name yet, but she's definitely a tomboy of some kind since she uses the male personal pronoun 僕 [boku]. I think she's actually the first one to use it in the whole series since most of the guys use 俺 (ore)- even Mr. Inazuma. The only exception I caught skimming through to check was Kyora (he used 私 [watashi], the polite pronoun for all genders). At any rate, hooray two more Hishaku members... we only have one or two left to reveal from the core group now. John Hiruhiko Kuguri Hatshaku Jane Samurai Worst Jeanist Tomboy (maybe) shadowy guy in the crazy subspace from ch. 7 ???

Another week of new Hishaku info, another week of waiting for the big Seitei War lore drops. I jokingly referred to this section with war orphans, but what if they really are? The Hishaku have deep resentment of some kind towards the Kamunabi -the government itself- and seem to be on hard times based on the state of their hideout. A lot of the members we've met seem young and disaffected too. Seems like more evidence they were on the side that lost the war to me.

Wonder how Kuguri knew Sojo and what exactly he admired about the greaseball. ...And which Bearer's blade he's got one-sided love for. My bets are on the Girl bearer but it could well be Sushi Chef or Samura too because this series loves to have men profess their deep love for other men.

I consider meeting Sushi Chef and Girl Bearer to be resolutions to a question instead of further complications because we've been waiting for information about them since they were teased in chapter 18. At the very least I want to know their names so I don't have to keep calling them Sushi Chef and Girl, y'know? Sushi Chef is probably the one we will meet next since he was conspicuously brought up last chapter... we'll see! Again! Hopefully soon.

Oh but speaking of Hiruhiko:

Look at this unhappy frog man.

Just keeping an eye out if he gets his Hishaku tattoo back or not for now...

One chapter left before the end-of-the-year magazine break, dear void; hopefully it won't leave us on a massive cliffhanger. I'm staying in it but man I would like more answers to come soon. I'm going numb from all the over-stimulation now. May this arc answer a bunch of questions before introducing many more, please and thank you, amen.

[rekino2114]

Going to a graveyard with Maria gorey

Halloween post #3

Pairing:Maria gorey x gn reader

Summary:Because of special circumstances, your girlfriend finds herself having to work on Halloween too this time in a graveyard so she decided to bring you along with her to make a cute (in her eyes) date

A/n:I was actually torn between making a post about gorey or tusspells for tgaa since they both have a spooky vibe to them and I love them both, i decide to go with gorey for no specific reason, also I checked and they did actually celebrate Halloween in Victorian London so that's cool

The fact that your girlfriend was a coroner never bothered you. Sure,she made a lot of creepy comments and even offered to bring you the heart of one of the corpses she dissected once to show you how much she loved you, but you could see that was just her way to show she cared and actually grew to like it.

She normally came back from her job relatively early as she only actually worked when someone was murdered and while that did happen pretty often, she still managed to finish up fast and come home to you on time to go on a date or just relax.

She did actually offer to bring you to her work and let you watch her dissect sometime, but you declined because you were scared she was gonna get in trouble for bringing someone not authorized, she was kinda sad about that but still accepted and held out hope that one day it would happen, and it did.....just not in the way either of you expected.

".....Maria, why are we here again?"

You told her while following her in the graveyard with a lantern in your hand

"I need to work. Apparently, the victim's family didn't want their body to be pulled out of the coffin, but it's still a murder so I need to perform an autopsy and so they told me to just do it here"

".....wait....that's allowed?"

"If you have enough power, anything is allowed really.....it's a shame if you ask me though, I won't get to see all the beautiful organs that well....make sure you bring the lantern close to it alright darling?"

"Y-yeah definitely....why did you bring me anyway?"

"Well, I always wanted you to see me work, and this is not an official coroner's office, so theoretically, I should have no problem this time"

"I....guess that makes sense"

"Also, isn't a graveyard such a romantic place? Especially around this time of year"

"Oh yeah, it is near Halloween, isn't it? I guess it kind of is romantic"

"I knew you were gonna agree.....anyway here we are, this is the grave, I'll dig the body up. You make me light and make sure no one is watching. We don't want people to think we're graverobbers"

"Yeah, but don't worry if anyone comes. I think you could scare them off"

"Eheh, yeah, probably."

While she was digging with the shovel/spade (which side are you on?), you decided to joke a bit

"I just hope the body doesn't come back to life"

"Eh, well my hair is already white anyway"

"True"

She finished digging and opened the casket, revealing the body. She put on her mask and told you to do the same with the one she gifted you for your anniversary

"The mask should keep the smell away, but I brought some rose perfume if it still bothers you"

"No I'm fine, but feel free to use it if you want"

"Don't worry I'm used to the smell of dead bodies"

She started performing the autopsy, and you helped her. She often asked you to give her tools like scalpels and cleavers or to shine the lantern in a specific direction, but after a while, she finished and put the body back in its grave and pulled her mask off as you did the same

"I'm done. Apparently, the bullet didn't fully pass through....I think lord van zieks will be happy to hear that"

"OK, if you're done, then shall we get going?"

"No, give me my scalpel again, I want to do something"

"Oh ok"

You gave her what she asked for, and she started carving something on a nearby tree with it. A heart with M + (your initial) inside of it

"Awww, that's so adorable, maria, thanks so much"

"I know, now our love will be forever engraved in this graveyard"

"I love you so much"

"Me too"

You two kissed and then started walking hand in hand back home through the London fog

[devildom-moss]

OH SHIT I FORGOT THEY OPENED YESTERDAY!! If you are keeping them open another day, how about "Jealousy" (SFW) with Lucifer and m!MC? Possibly in the same sort of timeline as the marriage one just so he gets to call him his fiance.

Hope this is to your liking, anon!

1 year anniversary flash request event - SFW

(Lucifer x m!MC)

Prompt 2 - Jealousy

First, you went shopping with Solomon of all silver-haired, shady bastards. Then, you spent your lunch playing games with his brothers. Then, Diavolo had the nerve to pat you on the head for getting your report in ahead of schedule – which was not only uncalled for, but completely self-indulgent and rude when Diavolo knew better than to touch what didn’t belong to him. Now, some lesser demon was approaching you on your walk home – the only time Lucifer had gotten you alone all day – to give you a present, claiming to be a part of the “Demons for Humans: MC Fanclub.” Now, Lucifer wasn’t convinced that such a club didn’t exist, nor was he a stranger to fanclubs or random admirers coming up to him with offerings, but this was you who was getting extra attention, and Lucifer had used up all the tolerance he had to spare.

“You’re just so cool, and I’ve really come to appreciate humans since you came to the Devildom. I wanted to thank you for all of that, so please accept this!” The lesser demon thrusted the present out towards you, bowing his head in embarrassment and respect.

You took the gift from him with a smile. “Thank you. That’s so sweet.”

By then, a dark aura had engulfed Lucifer and all the light had drained from his eyes. When the lesser demon looked up, he noticed and yelped. He was ready to run in the opposite direction when Lucifer placed a firm hand on the lesser demon’s shoulder, careful not to crack the weakling’s bones in your presence. Lucifer cleared his throat before he spoke in a calm tone, laced with homicidal intent, “Yes. Thank you so much for supporting MC. He’s certainly deserving of all that praise. However, I would request that you not make it a habit to give gifts to my fiancé.”

“I-I had no idea you were engaged. Congratulations, sir – Lord Lucifer. I wish you a happy marriage,” the demon replied skittishly.

Appeased by his fear, Lucifer smiled and let go of the lesser demon. “Thank you.”

The demon ran away, quickly disappearing down the nearest busy street. You turned to glare at Lucifer.

“Seriously? He was just being nice.” Your glare didn’t lighten up.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Lucifer huffed.

“What’s up with you?”

“I’ll tell you when we get home, just,” Lucifer grabbed your hand and started down the street towards the House of Lamentation, “don’t look so mad.”

You sighed and waited patiently until Lucifer had dragged you all the way back to his room and finally released your hand. Before you could open your mouth, Lucifer spoke up, “Can you sit down on the bed for a minute?”

Annoyed, you sat down at the edge of the bed. “Okay, now are you going to tell me what your problem is?”

Lucifer wormed his way onto your lap, surprising you as he adjusted himself until he was practically curled up against your chest. You were too stunned by the sudden soft gesture that your annoyance began to melt. Despite being such a large demon, Lucifer tucked his head under your chin. With that, any anger you held onto disappeared, and you held him tight, stroking his soft hair with one hand.

“You’re my fiancé,” Lucifer mumbled just above a whisper.

“I am. And you’re mine. You don’t see me terrifying your fans.”

“I don’t have to explain why that happened.” You could tell from his tone that he was pouting.

“I know, but I’d like you to. For your soon-to-be husband?” You cooed and kissed the top of his head.

“I got jealous. I get mad that I have to share you, and the first time I get you alone all day, that random demon. . .” Lucifer huffed. “I’m sorry.”

“You know, if you need attention, you can just ask. Even if it’s embarrassing, ask and you shall receive, my sweet, angry, jealous baby boy.”

“Then can you keep holding me for a while?” Lucifer wrapped his arms around you and clung to your body.

“Oh? Did you think you had the option to leave? Not happening. I have you in my arms, and I’m not letting you go.”

A/N: requests are still open for the rest of today if anyone else wants to enter. (rules here) I probably won't get to all of the SFW requests, but I may be able to finish them up tomorrow or the day after.

[iamafictionfreak]

Having major mixed feelings about RDJ playing Dr Doom, peeps.

On the one hand, I'm like... the Iron Man, is now playing a villain?

Let's not forget that the actor isn't the character, as some people tend to do so. He's playing a different character. But it still feels... sad? Is that the word?

RDJ's Iron Man became a kind of symbol in the real world too, not just in fantasy. Time has been tough on many of us so maybe we dig a little too deeply into our little fantasy getaways, but to have RDJ now embody the villain? Yeah, that's a little... ouch.

And a little awesome.

Confusing too.

Infuriating.

Trouble is, RDJ has a presence and he brought humanity to his Tony Stark role. If they don't get someone to match that level of charisma on the opposing team, if they don't find an actor or actress able to make us empathise with them even when they're being a massive clusterfuck of a hero, or if they make them the embodiment of perfection instead of relatable, then... well, it's a problem. No one's going to root for the new band of heroes if the villain's more sympathetic.

TS will always be RDJ and vice versa. He brings with him Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, Peter etc. Associating the actor with both the biggest hero AND the villain? My brain doesn't know what to do!

Here's hoping whatever he does with the character, or whatever the executives decide, it doesn't disrespect his role as IM.

On the other hand, I can't imagine how pissed Dr Doom fans are knowing that once again, there fav is being represented by the wrong ethnicity.

I had a similar negative reaction to Scarlet Johannsen being cast as BW. I ended up liking her her but it still itches. She didn't even manage the accent!

My expectations need to learn to cool it but it doesn't change how I feel.

Now, RDJ is a great actor. I have no doubt he can pull it off, but MCU near destroyed my love for marvel after endgame and that alongside the shit coming out in the comics in the last few years? The way MCU stopped being a place filled with hope? They'd have to do something truly special to bring me back into it.

Hysterically Deadpool and Wolverine have my blessing because in 3 seconds they brought back some feels. Irondad feels, days of cheesy older marvel movie feels etc.

I like dark stories. I don't need the sunshine and rainbows others do, but we dealt with TS's death, then Steve fucking off in a heel turn decision and creating a plot hole the size California, Peter's worst nightmare coming true and having to live with it forever, don't get get me started on rhodey and Wanda etc...

We're never getting closure or healing for TS's death 😂. We're just not guys. It's not something we can easily accept, if at all. So this whole thing feels great and terrible and awful and nostalgic and brutal and intriguing and and and and...

So, yeah. I get the discord.

But RDJ's great.

But I love Iron Man and his legacy even as I hate that they killed him off.

But Dr Doom's something I've been waiting to see!

BUT LOOK AT WHAT THEY GAVE US IN ENDGAME. WE'LL GET SCREWED OVER AGAIN.

BUT!

WHAT

IF

GUH

Yeah, there's a lot. We shall see.

After all, we're all used to a lack of satisfying closure.

[zeroducks-2]

So, you've inspired me to add some scenes that lean into the Eobard/Barry element that I accidentally wrote into my big long fic Chained, and I figured you might enjoy thinking about it (without having to wade through the whole dang fic lol I have no idea if you've read it/if it's of any interest to you, but I'm assuming you haven't/it's not)

The story revolves around a contract that grants genuine omnipotence. The catch is that it requires two people to sign it - the person who actually gains the power must be permanently bound into the service of their cosigner and the power is only gained through carrying out their commands.

Flash and Reverse Flash were highlighted as prominent figures battling it out over this thing, both being potential signers. Hundreds of iterations of them overlapping in time were ever present across the whole of the battlefield in arcs of light as they fought each other on a scale that no one else could hope to match. I was really only pulling names out of a hat back then (it was supposed to be a silly crack fic one-shot) but now that I've read a lot of your stuff about them, tricking/forcing Barry to sign the contract with him really strikes me as an Eobard thing to do!

Neither Barry nor Eobard signed it in the continuity the fic is going with, obvs, but there could be an off shoot branch where they did! And idk it feels like this premise might could really work to bring out their particular hangups with themselves and each other!

I'm super curious as to whether you think Eobard would try to be the one commanding an omnipotent Barry or if he'd want to chain Barry to him by becoming the power he needed to wield in order to save everything (- and maybe what circumstances might make Barry say yes to either one?)

-redhoodinternaldialectical from the "main" blog

Also pls have the words of the binding ritual for imagining Barry and Eobard saying them to each other purposes:

“I dedicate myself to submission. I shall bend my will to that of another. I relinquish my control so that I may be a vessel for the glorious ambitions of my Master. I shall be made unstoppable through obedience to my Master’s unslakeble will. I am the ultimate weapon. I am the ultimate tool. I am the hound which shapes the world to its Master’s whims. I mark myself with a collar made from liquid soul.” ... “Now I sit in waiting for the one who will be my Master.” “I seek to provide the glorious ambitions which will fill you and empower you. I seek to ascend beyond the fate decreed to be mine by forces more powerful than even the highest gods. Am I worthy of you, O’ ultimate weapon? Am I worthy of you, O’ ultimate tool? Will you accept me for now and all eternities beyond eternity, as your only Master?”

Hello hello, I had no idea you were redhoodinternaldialectical from the main blog and just followed you here because your blog is cool as fuck LMAO

I have not in fact read Chained, but from what I'm seeing here it seems interesting. I do ship Jaytim even if casually, I'll gladly go give it a look :)

I can see Eobard trying to manipulate Barry into signing the thing and belong to him forever. Eobard wants Barry to want it. He is canonically faster, stronger, with more powers up his sleeve than any other speedster - he could force Barry to do whatever if he tried hard enough, but he doesn't because ultimately he wants Barry to understand and be willing. That being said he's not immune to using very low tricks to get Barry to say yes to things, and if he managed he'd surely be overjoyed and would also go on a power trip about it because finally Flash belongs to him indissolubly, there's nothing which can come between them for the rest of eternity, he's his and only his forever - but.

But if Barry asked Eobard to sign, and to belong to him? "Be omnipotent and be mine, forever" ? Eobard would drop to his knees, cry and say yes. He might regret it afterwards, he might have a hard time coping with the loss of freedom because freedom is so very important to him. But if Barry asked it would feel like trust, like love, like he's wanted. It would feel like Barry - which could have chosen to spend eternity with anyone else - chose him.

I also think that in the face of an incredibly powerful enemy which will destroy/subjugate the multiverse, and with no other option, Barry would give himself to Eobard. He would need a clause to the contract which specifies that he won't be forced to hurt any of the people he loves or something along those lines, and then he would "sacrifice himself" with his head held high. He did it already after all! He killed himself to prevent the Anti-Monitor from using him to power his weapons, and effectively saved everyone, and stayed dead for a whopping 23 years (until Eobard brought him back that is). And that one time Eobard said "run away with me" and Barry said "yes if you leave my family alone"? That's also pretty indicative of how self-sacrificing Barry is. Or maybe indicative of how he wouldn't be so opposed to running away with Eobard after all, but don't tell them I said that.

Honestly all the options would be super interesting. I think ultimately they would fall into the right rhythm regardless of which one is the "bound" one, even if it would surely take some trial and error. It's really fascinating to think about, thank you SO MUCH for sharing this with me! I will rotate it in my head for a while and let you know if anything else comes to mind!

[supernova3space]

WIP Wednesday: Nova rambles about the WIPs Pt 3

I almost forgot I do this lmao now before my Wednesday turns to Thursday, let's goooooooooo

13. Like Real People Do: This one is very close to my heart and it's also one which I'm doing a lot of research for. A LOT. I even contacted an actual archeologist (SO COOL THEY'RE SO COOL AH). In this story, Briseis, a bio-anthropologist, is part of team that excavates a 500+ year old bog body from Opus and she is super excited! What she does not expect is the bog body to come to life and lead her on a wild, very exasperating goose chase through the country in search of something he's missing. Patrochilles, yes. I LOVE THIS STORY I'M FINDING IT A BIT HARD TO WRITE BUT I LOVE IT

14. 1840's Pat is a botanist: Haven't quite decided on the title. I was very inspired by the Ibis Trilogy, especially the character of Paulette. Adventurous botanist? Travelling around the world? YES PLEASE. This AU, like the Ibis Trilogy, is set in the events leading to the Poppy War between Britain and China in the 1840's. So it's more like historical fiction. Patroclus, a former sailor and now botanist works in the botanical gardens of Phthia, hoping to one day make a name for himself. Achilles, son of the owner of said botanical gardens, ex-soldier and now businessman handling trade in his father's company, keeps visiting the botanical gardens to gaze longingly at this man mucking about in the dirt, muttering about the difference between Euphorbia and cacti. The events that follow lead to them being swept into a war out of their control. Can their love bloom in these troubled waters? (Ans: YES IT CAN. IT'S A FUCKING EICCHORNIA FOR THAT) (That's a plant, guys. Not anything horny)

15. Long distance R rated shit: What the title says lmao. My foray into PWP for this one. How do you have sex with the unrequited love of your life when you're on the opposite sides of the country? Achilles has a solution. Patroclus is confused but, hey it's a birthday gift. It would be rude not to accept it. Lmao the idiots in love is strong in this one.

16 and 17. On this shore, I shall wait: Patroclus is an honest, hardworking fisherman. He has everything he needs here. He has a best friend, a boisterous teenager who wants to run away from this place, his boat is in good shape, the sea is, well, the sea. But why the fuck are these fish flying out of the water and slapping him in the face? Or, Achilles is a mermaid trying to get his attention but does not know how to. This man is trying to catch fish right? How about he just gives it to him? But he's too nervous to approach him. So how do you show love? Yeet that fish! (from a prompt in YouTube lmaoooo). The second one which I've named as the Bri version is actually part of the same story but it happens from Briseis' POV in the heartbreaking aftermath of the chaos that ensued. Very inspired by The God Of Small Things. Cause I can't help but add a dash of angst into any long story I write hehe

18. The Newly Dead-Triple Dead Combo: Y'know, Triple Dead Combo. The name is actually a pun, sorta. I heard of this term called "Triple Threat Combo" and was like, huh ok there are three ghosts here so, ayyyyyy (look at me explaining the joke like a dad). But yeah, the rest of the story deals with the reason for Patroclus' death, Achilles slowly dealing with his delicate freedom and Ajax and Briseis losing their minds because WHY IS PAT SIGHING AT THIS BLONDE TWINK??! Also will be delving a bit into the characters past, so we'll be seeing a lot of backstory stuff heheh. Ah, I love ghost stories.

Bonus: 19 cause 16 and 17 are the same thing lol: This one is not in the list because I added it later. Heheh. Museum AU. I won't be saying more because i saw the prompt on Tumblr from an artist many of you know and love so hehehhehehehehehehehehehehehehehehh anyway yeah, this is going to be a oneshot and not a complete story. We're gonna leave at an open ending (because I have neither the courage nor dedication to start another long fic 😭). Very Baejax's Sunset In Your Veins inspired. My dear darling artist (If you see this, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) who randomly posted about this AU on Tumblr, I have taken it and I am going to make it come true 😤😘

So yeah, those are the WIPs for this Wednesday. I'd say, one more of this and we'll be done! And they will stop screaming around in my head (it is so FRUSTRATING). Maybe I'll post art wips later who knows lmao 😂 or music wips -shrug-

[poltergeist-coffee]

"wil.... there's something I've been meaning to ask you"

the brunet smiles "what is it big q"

"well I've been wondering... would you want to become a mermaid and be with me, together in a pod"

wilbur laughs awkwardly, the smile on his face becoming strained, "you're joking right, you're not actually suggesting I swallow a scale for you... right"

"why would I joke about this"

the smile disappears quickly replaced by a scowl, "quackity why the fuck would you think I would ever accept that deal" his voice raising

"well... I-"

"I've told you my biggest fear why would I ever put myself in the same situation" he seethed

"what do you mean some situation? I thought his memory problems was just from old age or something"

"old-" he cuts himself off taking a breath to cool down "my father's condition was caused by swallowing a mermaid scale quackity, that's the price for taking the deal"

"well he took the deal"

rage filled wilbur, "took the deal... you think he willing chose to swallow that scale and lose his memories‽ cause if that's what you think big q you are dead wrong. his hand was forced, he swallowed that scale to protect his family. my father was willing to sacrifice everything to keep us safe" his voice raised again. "he NEVER would have eaten that scale if he didn't have to"

"well even if he didn't want to eat it he's fine now so why wont you‽"

wilbur couldn't believe what he was hearing "fine....you think he's fine, do you have ANY idea of how long it took to get to this point‽ how many 'bad days' I had to wake up with my own fucking father not even remembering my name‽‽‽ how many sleepless nights I've spent wondering if this was it, if this time the memories didn't stick, if this time his memories would stay locked away‽‽"

quackity didn't have an answer to that, so wilbur kept going,

"do you know how hard it is to wake up and find someone you love quizing himself on his own children's names, how hard it is to watch as he spends his good days making sure we will be okay when he forgets. can you even comprehend waking up every morning asking yourself if you're going to have to spend they day trying to get him to remember you"

there was a heavy silence as the weight of his words sank in,

"he's gone through hell and back to get to this point and he still struggles, he still has bad days. he still forgets" he doesn't even know when the hot angry tears started rolling down hid face, "he didn't even swallow a whole scale... thats the only reason we didn't lose him"

neither spoke for a long time after this. until the flying fish decided to break the silence,

quackity took wilburs hands into his own "well.... would it really be so bad to forget all this. I mean if you take my offer we can be together and, and you won't have to live in this fishing village, and you won't have to worry about phil forgetting you" quackity took wilburs silence as permission to continue, "you could leave all that pain behind if you take the deal"

it took the human a few moments to calm himself before speaking, lacing his words with the venom he could feel building in his heart, "only a fool would truly believe I would leave my family behind for you"

he squeezed wilburs hands hoping to calm him, wilbur took them away so if he had just touched hot coals, "we- we could give your daughter a scale too, she can come with u-"

"leave"

quackity looked into wilburs eyes not expecting the look of pure hatred that filled them

"what... what are you-"

"fucking leave. I don't care where you go as long as it's not fucking here"

"wil-"

"don't "

"please let me-"

"I was a fool to think you would be different... just... just leave" the hate had left wilburs form, leaving behind a hollow sadness, "please"

-🪶

the trap (angst) is set, and now I shall wait for it to go off (be read)

[jaynnie-jane]

This is such a strange feeling. I don't know if it was ending things (common sense would tell me it's probably that) or if it's medication, hormones or just a very deep and entire acceptance that happened yesterday and today. I am not afraid to loose you all of a sudden. I still really want to work on us, I still want to take the time to do it and I still don't like the way my future looks without you in it but I am not afraid of it.

I think it was that post about not destroying the thing we love honestly. I love him, plain and simple and I want BOTH of us to thrive. I want BOTH of us to be the best version of ourselves that we can be.

Figuratively, on Monday I said "fuck that third entity that is the relationship" and in doing so I can now see the people that were suffering because of it. And I really do think it turned into a twisted mess because we were both too afraid of hurting each other, we were both too afraid of destroying "the relationship".

And it's strange because while I still want and really hope that we could still be together, I also look at some of my friendships and my more than friendships but not quite in a monagamous, committed, eternal relationship, relationships and I think yeah, there's no reason on my end why I wouldn't enjoy that.

I know the transition TO that will be difficult coz theres a lot of difference in expectation that I feel there... heck, maybe that's SUPER unhealthy but I know I have had some really loving, genuine, accepting relationships like that.

Maybe its a me thing and when I am wearing that hat and have those expectations, my codependency doesn't destroy shit.

Coz that's the other thing I'm feeling at the moment: very little expectation, I don't feel a NEED to be understood or a NEED for the "correct" apology.

It's just like this weird "it's all g, we are all different, we're just here to experience and enjoy what we can. Oh you feeling down, here let me spread some love".

Am I fucking high on quetiapine? Though, last time I thought it was fucking with me it made me weirdly dismissive of everyone else and now I think it's making me weirdly dismissive of me??

Hahaha just ran through a fantasy to check that assumption; wait so, if I am being weirdly dismissive of my own needs and feelings, does that mean I am not afraid to work..? Checked against the idea of being a peer support person and was like okay, yeah that seems cool. Turned up the heat a bit and thought through the process of going to work 9-5, 5 days a week and was like ooo that's getting uncomfy, don't think I wanna do that so turned it up even more just to really stress test and just had one word "homecraft?". My brain INSTANTLY RECOILED and said a big old naaaaah MAAAATE.

Hahaha brains are dumb XD.

But yeah, in this moment I just kinda feel.. good? Like I could actually be honest about what I want instead of being too afraid to ask/tell or be worried about what might seem like a double standard.

I shall monitor this feeling closely. How long do we rekon it's gonna last Tumbls?

Confusion, hope, desire, confident, curious, 😴 sleepy, silly, empathy, smol guilt, "like me", wary, medium guilt, suspisciously stable... unstable XD

[jimmy-valmer-official]

can u write a fic abt Jimmy pining for Heidi thank youuu

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ask and you shall recieve 🤲🏽 (still accepting requests if anyones interested! :0)

also gonna post it here if you dont wanna hop onto ao3 vv

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Jimmy absolutely thrived when it came to socializing.

After all, it was a combination of some of his favorite things— talking, for instance, or delivering a crafty punchline that, at times, was grossly offensive but funny all the same. It was one of the things that he excelled at, among other things, and he felt as if he could pull words out of thin air.

…Usually.

Usually, because as Heidi Turner stood in front of him casually, sharing her ideas about what their group project should focus on as they stood in the middle of the high school hallways at the end of the school day, he could do nothing but stare.

“ —So I was thinking we could do one about chloroplasts, y’know? Because they’re easy to explain and there’s a bunch of stuff on the internet we could use. What do you think?”

Right, the science project. That was what they were doing. What was this about chloroplasts…?

“Oh, uh…” Science project. Think about the science project.

But his mind was occupied with other things. Of course, it wasn’t uncommon for him to find the occasional person attractive— hell, there were a lot of nice looking people out there— but to call this a simple, measly attraction was certainly an understatement.

Heidi was very beautiful. Cute, even, not to mention undeniably charming. There was just something about her hair, and her beanie with the little flower on it, and the softness of her skin, and her shining eyes…

…Which were staring right at him intently, expecting a response. Jimmy didn’t need to be a high class detective to know that he had definitely missed something.

“Jimmy?”

“Yes, right,” he cleared his throat and tried to get back on topic. Something about chloroplasts, something about a boring project. “Well, I think that s- suh… I think that sounds excellent, Heidi!” What had she said again? “We should get to- to working on that soon very much.”

He seriously hoped that she’d explain it to him again later. He was starting to feel a bit guilty for not listening when she had proposed her idea in the first place. It was a weird, unexplainable type of guilt.

She grinned at him, and he had to blink a few times, blinded as if he had looked directly at the sun. “Great! Okay. Well I’m gonna go home now, then. We can work on it this weekend… I’m free on Sunday. Does that work?”

Her voice was quite nice, too…

“Y- yeah, that works,” he said in a daze, and then he immediately wanted to punch himself. Sunday absolutely did not work. He had a stage play to watch and then he had speech therapy right afterwards, not to mention bible study in the morning beforehand.

Great. And here he was, standing there quietly and not correcting himself at all. The words that usually came so easily to him were jammed tightly in his head.

“Alright!” Heidi exclaimed. Jimmy couldn’t possibly interrupt her now. “Well, I'll see you later then, okay?”

He nodded. Tried to keep his cool. But his smile felt way too affectionate on his face. “Yeah, I’ll c- catch you later.”

When she was gone, he felt simultaneously fuzzy and vaguely disappointed. Which was bad, because it meant that he was no better than a senile cat.

His heart felt funny in his chest, and he waited for her to exit the building, which was mostly empty at this point, before doing the same. Thankfully, he walked considerably slower than her, so she was already gone by the time he was outside.

…Damn it. Damn it.

What even was the science project?

He made his way towards the general direction of his house, and although he had a well trained neutral expression on his face, his mind was spinning with random things like, for whatever reason, brown hair and flower beanies. A soft voice saying who knew what, smooth hands clutching the straps of a purple backpack…

He just couldn’t get the sight of Heidi out of his mind.

He tried thinking of jokes as a distraction, but the punchlines kept slipping through his fingers like sand. He couldn’t even remember any of his scripts despite studying them a million times over. To be honest, the only thing that was clear in his mind was that he already wanted to see Heidi again— but he also really, really didn’t.

Girls were usually just a crutch for him that made him look cooler in the public eye. Because every guy has been in a relationship. He always liked to show his partners off, flaunt a bit, make up lies about what they did together at his house as if they weren’t just doing homework while sitting next to each other.

Normally that was fine. It was normal and acceptable… more like going through the motions if anything— Get together, hang out in public, go to the movies a few times, have sleepovers, and then break up a few weeks later. Over and over again. Not very exciting, to be frank, when it was repeated so many times.

So why did he feel so struck with giddiness at the thought of doing all of that with Heidi? Why did the last step feel more like a bad thing instead of a normal conclusion?

That wasn’t how it usually worked. Surely this was something else.

His heart was beating fast.

And that was also weird. Dating was something that helped your image. It made people look good. It was cool, and that was it. Right?

This… didn’t feel cool.

This felt fuzzy. Warm. When she had spoken to him— and sure, he had heard her talk at some point before, but it was only just now processing in his mind— it had felt like his soul was dipped in honey and placed on a small paper boat in a pond. And that was way too warm to be a simple charade in the making.

… And far too sappy to be even slightly cool.

He sighed, long and drawn out, stopping in his path for a moment to glance at the sky before moving forward again.

It was going to be one hell of a night, that was for sure.