#they might be your wounds but they're my WHAT?

[dollveis]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐇 !

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀you've got a fetish for my love

❝ ELLIE WILLIAMS ❞⠀ ✿ you always push ellie away because you're sure you couldn't work together, but maybe you can under the bed sheets. 3.3k words.

pairing. jackson!ellie x fem!reader content warning! mention of consuming alcohol, smut, vague plot tbh, the smut it's actually pretty light and there's more tension and making out than anything, a bit of fluff and maybe angst if you squint, kind of a enemies to lovers but they're not completely enemies (just don't get along), open ending, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), top!ellie, bottom! reader, there's not really a dom/sub dynamic here.

☆ this is the first thing i've wrote in like a year and a half so bear with me please, this also has been sitting in my drafts for two years already and i finished it just now. i hope this isn't that bad! if there's any grammatical mistakes please let me know, english is not my first language, enjoy ♡

The party was obviously Dina's idea. She'd been going on about it for weeks now, how the younger crowd of Jackson needed a break, no one had barely time to just be and exist with all the patrolling, hunting and just surviving in general.

The party is already in full swing when you finally arrive, half the town's twenty-somethings crowding Dina's place. The warmth it's the first thing that hits you, the house is candlelit, the soft cracking of the fireplace and the strong scent of whiskey and woodsmoke fill your nostrils. The sound of laughter echoes from the living room, someone's half-drunk attempt at playing the guitar makes everyone laugh, you hear Dina's voice rising above it all, welcoming everyone, teasing people, just keeping the energy high. She really outdid herself, the whole place is alive in a way that Jackson rarely is.

And you hate it.

You immediately thought you shouldn't have come. The party is loud, too loud. It's not that you don't like the people here, you do, for most part, but crowds make you restless and you've spent the whole day convincing yourself that this? this isn't what you need, you should've stayed home but Dina insisted, said you were wound up too tight.

“Loosen up, drink a little, talk to someone who isn't your damn horse!” she said when she greeted you and saw that expression in your face, like if you were about to run back to your house.

So now you were stuck there, standing stiff against a wall, drink in hand and watching the room from a distance like it might swallow you whole.

Then your eyes land on her.

Ellie.

She's sitting in the corner, half sprawled on the couch, beer dangling from her slender fingers and her other arm resting lazily over the back of the couch, boots kicked up on the edge of a coffee table just if like she owns the fucking place. She's laughing at something Jesse just said, her head tilting back slightly, exposing the column of her throat. It's a rare sight— her guard down, her expression relaxed, warmth slipping through the usual sharp edges.

For a second you let yourself look, your gaze fixated on her. The way her shirt clings to her frame, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her tattoo catching the dim light of the place. The way her fingers absently trace the label on her beer bottle. The way her green eyes flick across the room, scanning, searching, until they land on you.

There's a pause, a beat where neither of you look away. Then—

She smirks. Fucking smirks. She lifts her beer slightly, a silent acknowledgement of your presence, before taking a slow sip. She knows exactly what she's doing, she enjoys watching you bristle.

You scoff and turn away, pulse kicking up in annoyance. You and Ellie don't get along, y'all never have, she's stubborn, reckless, too sure of herself in a way that grates on your nerves. Every patrol together turns into a heated argument, every introduction a silent battle. It's not like she's mean, if anything, it'd be easier if she was, but she's just Ellie, all sharp words and cocky grins, pressing your buttons like it's a game. And she's determined to win it. For some reason she never lets up, not with you.

Maybe it's a game of push and pull and you always push first.

An hour passes, maybe more, two? you spend most of it trying to avoid her, talking to Dina, Jesse, anyone else but you feel her presence like a weight. Every time you glance her way, she's already looking, every time you move, she's just there and it's pissing you off.

You down the rest of your drink and push through the crowd, slipping down the back hallway, you don't run but you walk fast enough that it feels like it, you dodge Jesse's half-hearted attempt to pull you into some drinking game. You just need air, space—distance.

The first door you find is half open, a guest room, mostly unused since the bed was neatly made. You step inside, inhaling deeply, relishing the silence

Then the door shuts behind you, you don't even need to turn around to know who it is.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter glaring at the ceiling, “do you ever take a hint?”

Ellie just chuckles, the sound low and amused, “Not when it's this much fun, to be honest,” and you don't even need to look around to know she has that stupid smirk plastered on her face.

You spin to face her, your eyes meeting her intense emerald eyes and your arms crossing tight over your chest, “What the hell do you want?”

She leans against the doorframe, her hand holding her chin like she was pretending to think, “dunno. . . maybe i just like seeing you squirm.”

Your jaw clenches and your fists close, “i'm not squirming.”

You see her smirk grow, a knowing look in her eyes, she looks at you like if she was able to read your thoughts and body language, like if she knew something you don't.

She steps closer, “no?”

You hate how easily she gets under your skin, how quickly she turns the air electric. The room feels smaller with her in it, the tension between you palpable. And the worst part? She knows.

You can feel the anger growing inside you, “why do you always do this?” you snap.

Through her lips escapes a soft chuckle as her brow raises, “do what?”

“This. You act like�� like —” you exhale sharply, trying to put your mind in order and find the right words, “like you're trying to get a rise out of me.”

Another step, now you can smell the mix of beer and whiskey on her breath, the faint scent of smoke clinging to her shirt, “what if i am?” she says, her voice now lower, rougher.

You breath hitches, for a moment neither of you move, the tension is thick, suffocating, a rope pulled too tight between you, you're both too stubborn, too reckless, you'd burn each other out before you even had the chance to try.

Your heart pounds, your skin prickles, and fuck, you should push her away like you always do.

But you don't.

You take a step forward, closing the distance completely. Ellie doesn't flinch, doesn't back down, if anything she leans in, her usual green eyes now dark and heavy lidded, her smirk fading into something different. Something dangerous.

“You gonna keep pretending?” she murmurs close to your ear.

You don't answer, you can't because she's right and you both know it. So when she tilts her head, gaze flicking down to your lips— when she hesitates, waiting for you— you do the stupidest thing imaginable.

You kiss her.

The kiss is not soft, not sweet, there's frustration, months of tension unravelling all at once. Ellie makes a sound low in her throat, something between a gasp and a groan, and then she's grabbing you, fingers curling around the back of your neck, pulling you into her, pressing you against the door. The alcohol on her tongue is dizzying, her body solid and warm against yours and fuck, maybe you should stop. Maybe this is a mistake— but when she bites at your bottom lip, hands slipping under your jacket, pulling, teasing, demanding, you know there's no going back.

Ellie kisses like she fights, hungry, restless, all consuming. Her hands grip at your waist, pulling you impossibly close, fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt like she's trying to stake her claim. The taste of her mouth makes your head spin. You should stop, you really should, you keep repeating that to yourself in your mind but when she presses you harder against the wall, when she nips at your lower lip and swallows the soft, sweet sound it pulls from your throat— you don't. You won't.

Your hands move on their own, fisting into the front of her shirt, yanking her closer, until there's barely any space left between the both of you. You feel Ellie exhale sharply against your lips, a quiet, breathy curse before tilting her head to deepen the kiss. Months of pent-up frustration unraveling with every movement.

Her hands now drag under your jacket, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, her rough and calloused fingers grazing over your bare skin. The touch sends a shiver through you, your breath hitching as she maps the contours of your waist, ribs, back and dangerously close to your chest.

“Fuck,” Ellie mutters against your mouth, voice husky and almost desperate, “you're—” she cuts herself off, biting at your lip again before pulling back just enough to look at you.

Your chest rises and falls in tandem, lips swallowed and face flushed. And, God, that sight was delightful for her, she could feel herself getting wet just by looking at you, her pupils are blown wide, green eyes dark and unreadable as they flick between your lips and your gaze. She's still gripping at your waist, still pressing you into the door, but there's hesitation now— like she's waiting, like she's asking, like she needs you to make the next move.

You exhale, reaching up, letting your fingers tangle in the short hairs at the nape of her neck. She shivers under your touch, just barely, and something about that sends a thrill directly to your core, making you bolder and almost demanding.

You tug her back in, Ellie groans softly as your lips crash together again, her hands gripping tighter, wandering and exploring beneath your shirt, sometimes her hands traveling to graze your chest. She moves like she's trying to memorize you, like she's been waiting too long for this moment and doesn't want to waste a second of it.

Somewhere between kisses and touches she starts backing you up slowly, steady, until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and your stomach tightens.

Ellie pulls away slightly, breath ghosting over your lips, “tell me to stop.”

You obviously don't. Instead, you hook a finger into her belt loop and pull, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress, bringing her down with you. She lets out a breathless chuckle, bracing herself with her hands on either side of your head.

“Yeah?” she murmurs, voice teasing but still rough around the edges, like she's barely holding herself together.

You swallow, breath shaky, “yeah.”

And that's all she needs. She kisses you again, even deeper this time, slower, like she wants to savor it. The weight of her body presses into you, her thigh slotting between yours and pressing it softly against your core, the heat of her touch setting your skin ablaze.

She takes her time now, trailing her lips down your jaw, your neck and collarbone, her hands moving and groping deliberately, teasing your nipples over your shirt. You arch into her touch, finger gripping at her shirt, nails dragging lightly down her back.

Ellie exhales shakily, her lips barely brushing against your skin as she murmurs, “I knew you wanted me.”

You laugh, breathless and heady, tilting your head back as she marks your neck with her mouth, “shut up and prove it.”

And Ellie doesn't hesitate at all now, the second your words leave your mouth, she moves— lips tracing a slow path down your throat, hands now gripping your waist with just enough pressure to keep you grounded. The heat between you is unbearable, every inch of your body hyper aware of her. She really takes her time, dragging her fingers along the hem of your shirt but not directly touching, she's just teasing, testing. Like she's giving you again the chance to change your mind, like she wants you to stop her and you won't.

You tilt your head back, giving her more room to work, breath hitching as her lips graze over your collarbone. Your fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt, tugging her closer, needing more, she grins against your skin, clearly pleased, before shifting her weight just enough to pull your jacket off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

The room is quiet except for your breaths and soft moans, the faint crackling of a candle in the dresser, the muffled sound of the party still going outside. It feels like another world, distant, unimportant. Right now it's just you and her.

Ellie leans back to look at you, her green eyes searching your gaze, “you sure?”

And that almost made you roll your eyes, wasn't the whole situation obvious enough?

You exhale, heart pounding and voice low, “Ellie.”

That's all it takes. She kisses you again, her hands slip under your shirt, fingers warm against your skin as she softly gropes your tits, sending a shiver down your spine. You press into her touch, drinking in every sensation, every little sound she makes as your hands wander, lifting the hem of her shirt, feeling the taut muscle beneath. She groans when you drag your nails down her back and the sound sends a rush of heat directly between your thighs. A slow, aching need building, making your head spin.

The bed creaks slightly as she shifts, settling between your thighs like earlier, her weight pressing you deeper into the mattress. When her knee makes friction with your wet and aching pussy, you gasp, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her back down to you, lips meeting in a heated, breathless rhythm.

She moves like she wants to take her time, like she's been waiting for this moment as long as you have but neither of you have the patience for that.

Clothes come off in slow, teasing increments— shirts and pants slipping, fingers tracing new paths along the bare skin. You shudder at the warmth of her mouth trailing lower and lower, her lips leaving marks you know won't fade by morning. She's restless, enjoying every reaction, every gasp and sharp inhale.

When she finally, finally, presses closer, when her wet mouth meets your core through your panties, when her fingers tighten against your hip,it's nothing like fighting. There's no sharpness, no stubborn push-and-pull, there's no battle to win.

Just heat. Just the press of her body against yours, just the slow, aching rhythm her tongue sets, the way she whispers your name like it's the only thing she knows. Just her.

She pulled away her mouth for a moment, enjoying the sight of soaking wet panties, your own fluids mixed with her saliva. With her free hand she began to rub up and down your slit, the thin fabric of your underwear making the friction even more delicious.

The way she was edging is making you crazy, she finally decide to move the fabric aside, she iz quick to attach her warm mouth directly to your, already, sensitive clit as her two of her fingers make their way to the entrance of your needy hole. A gasp escapes your lips when you feel her calloused fingers teasing it at the same time she sucks and licks your clit. The humid sounds of her mouth making your arousal grow even more and she knows.

Her lips let your clit go for a moment, she speaks in a lustful, almost velvety, tone, “i prefer when you're like this and not fighting me back,” and you can't even fight or bite back, you just whimper in response and she grins before going back to work.

She finally stops teasing your entrance and she slips one finger inside you, slick dripping down to her wrist. She was quick to find your spongy spot and she presses exactly where you need and while a soft moans leaves your lips, she inserts another finger, feeling how your walls clench against her digits.

The feeling of her fingers pressing your g-spot as her lips latching onto your bud quickly turns to be too much, you don't even know where to grip, you feel like you need something to keep you grounded, your whines and whimpers music to her ears.

And you don't know how much time passes but the room is warm, your breath stutters as Ellie moves against you, her fingers shifting slightly inside you, every touch, every word, sending a wave of arousal. She's steady, controlled, like she's savoring every second, like she's engraving this moment in her memory.

You, on the other hand? You're unravelling, your hands grip at her naked back, your fingers pressing at her warm skin, desperate to keep her close, to pull her even closer. She responds with a quiet, breathy chuckle, but there's roughness to it, a slight tremor beneath her confidence that tells you she's just as lost in this as you are.

She leans in, pressing her forehead to yours, breaths mingling, eyes half-lidded as she watches you, “you're so fucking stubborn,” she murmurs, her voice rough and teasing.

You let out a shaky laugh, tilting your head back as her lips find your throat, “look who's talking.”

Ellie hums in agreement against your pulse, her grip tightening at your waist before she started to move again inside you, it was slow and measured but intentional, the way her fingers curl inside you pulls an embarrassing sound from you, but she swallows it with her mouth, kissing you deep, hungry. She doesn't let up, doesn't rush, just takes her time learning you, every sound, every shiver, every spot that makes your breath hitch. It's infuriating and intoxicating all at once, the way she knows exactly what she's doing.

And when she finally pushes you past that point, when you can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel her, when you're about to hit ecstasy— she murmurs your name against your skin, like it's a confession, like she's giving you something she hasn't given to anyone else.

When the tension finally shatters, your fingers curl against her back, scratching her, pulling her down into you as everything blurs, melts, breaks. She helps you to ride your orgasm, cooing you with sweet words and praises even if everything you can say it's just “hah-ahh” and moan.

The aftershocks leave you both breathless, tangled in each other, skin sticky with heat and effort. Neither of you move for a long moment, just lying there, letting the world settle back into place around you.

Ellie shifts first, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder before resting her head against your chest. Her fingers trace lazy forms over your side, absentminded.

You exhale, your body still trembling slightly, you lift a shaky hand to run through her hair, pushing damp strands from her forehead. Silence lingers between you, but it's not uncomfortable. It's new, uncertain, but not something you want to pull away from just yet.

The auburn haired girl lets out a slow breath, pressing a kiss to your marked collarbone before murmuring, “still think we don't work?”

You huff a quiet laugh, shifting beneath her, “i still think you talk too much.”

She grins, biting lightly at your shoulder in retaliation before settling back down, “yeah, sure,” a pause. Then quieter, more serious, “you're not gonna run, are you?”

Your stomach tightens at that, at the way she asks like she already knows the answer, like she's bracing herself. You hesitate, your fingers playing with her hair.

You don't know what this is, what it means, if it even means anything at all. Maybe you'll still fight on patrol, still push each other's buttons, still refuse to admit how deep this thing between you two really runs.

But right now, here, in the quiet warmth of this bed? You don't want to leave.

“No…” you finally murmur, feeling the way her body relaxes against yours at the answer, “not tonight.”

Ellie hums, pressing one last kiss to your skin before sighing, “good.”

And for now, that's enough.

[brotherwtf]

Mer AU Headcanons 1/2

As I mentioned in our chat, your mer headcanons inspired me and led me to come up with some ideas of my own. I hope you like them. Feel free to build on them or discard them, I’m not planning to write a fic from this.

I headcanon that Gale is like a siren - he lures pirates and ships he finds threatening to perilous waters and causes shipwrecks. This is because pirates often try to poach on his community and he wants to protect his people and their treasures and homes.

Appearance wise, Gale has shoulder-length hair, his tail is blue, and he loves wearing jewelry. He usually wears a necklace, bracelets and a waist chain. All gold and expensive (he collected them from shipwrecks). Sirens in this AU can shift into human form at will.

One day, one of his friends gets caught in the net of a poacher pirate ship and Gale tries to rescue them while they're still in the water. He manages to cut his friend out of the net, but he gets injured and caught instead.

The pirates pull him on deck and taunt, laugh and pick on him. They take his jewelry too. It seems like things might get out of hand but pirate Bucky steps in and convinces the others to leave Gale alone. He even gets him some treatment for his wound.

But Gale just bides his time. Once it's dark enough and he’s alone, tied up, he shifts into human form and uses the extra mobility his legs provide to get out of his binds.

Meanwhile, Bucky gambles with the other pirates and wins Gale's jewelry on cards. He decides he wants to see what he can from Gale for the gold, intends to get Gale's consent to touch his tail.

Except, when he gets there, all he finds is a naked man already halfway out of the rope binding. He and Gale have a stare off, then Gale proceeds with his escape plan and gets out of the ropes. He asks Bucky why he's not calling the others. Bucky shrugs, says something about curiosity and a craving for adventure instead of gold. Then tells Gale he has his jewelry. Gale tells him to keep it, then escapes back into the water.

The other pirates notice and start to pursue him. Bucky is immediately in trouble because they suspect he let Gale go. But it doesn't matter anyway, because Gale's leading them to their end.

(cont. in part 2)

points at this IM SCREAMING AVONNE I LOVE ALL OF THESE SO MUCH

also guys be prepared for a shit ton of mermaid/pirate au coming your way in the next couple of days everyone clap

I totally totally love every single one of these hcs and I'm just gonna add some more bcs this is already so so perfect

Gale who perches on the outskirts of a jagged rock cove, beckons pirates in with a slender finger and iridescent tail, lures them until they're just reaching out for him and then he jumps in the water, but by then it's too late for the pirates to turn around and they're doomed to crash, and Gale swims into the aftermath to steal all of their jewelry and precious gems

Bucky being absolutely floored by how beautiful Gale is when they capture him, pale skin draped in gold jewels with the most beautiful tail he's ever seen, damn consider that boy smitten, and when he wins back all of Gale's jewelry and finds him in naked human form in the cellar he hates to admit that all he can think about is what Gale's salty skin must taste like

Gale lashes out at him, lunges for him but John manages to pin him to the ground, straddling his naked form and feeling his cheeks warm at the compromising position, but Gale's all angry and teeth and tries to wrangle out of John's hold but John's still able to hold him, "I'm trying to help you!" he shouts and it makes Gale pause, stop struggling as he notices John's hands full of his jewels

"why do you want to help me? you let them capture me," Gale hisses

"because I don't give a fuck about the jewels or the riches, I've never seen a mermaid in my life, and I guess that's why I wanted to do this in the first place. For the adventure, to see things I've never seen before... not for the money, not at all," John confesses and Gale can feel his heart start to warm

and so he lets John distract the crew while Gale escapes, diving off the edge of the boat and into the dangerous cove where they found him, can't help but turn back and think about John, think about what he's done for him, and realizes how much trouble John must be in

MOODBOARD

part two coming tomorrow!!!

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 87: Alexander's Reason

Previous > Masterlist tw: mind control, hypnotic induction

October 1925

"Excuse me, are you Oliver Pines?"

Oliver looked up at the nurse, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile. He knew that he must be puffy-eyed from crying. Hopefully she would assume it was due to the pain. "Yes, that's me."

"I wanted to speak with you. Quietly, if you don't mind." There was no real privacy in the ward, but she sat on the edge of the bed close to Oliver's face. Her fingers reached down to turn his head gently, and brushed against the scars on his neck.

She knew.

Terror and guilt flooded him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize --"

"Shhh, keep your voice down. I'm not going to hurt you."

He thought he deserved it if she did, but did his best to quiet himself anyway, stifling his sobs like he was a boy again.

"You're one of theirs, aren't you? You belong to a vampire," she said in a hushed tone.

Oliver nodded.

"I thought so. I saw the puncture wounds noted in your file, and after what happened last night… did you hear?"

"I heard enough."

"Was that your master? The one who was in the hospital last night?"

"No, but… yes, in a way. He was here for me. It's my fault."

The nurse looked sympathetic. "I don't think anything those bastards did is your fault."

"How do you know about them? The vampires?"

"You're not the first patient we've seen with bite marks on the neck, and this isn't the first time those bastards have visited us, either. Not all the nurses believe, and the doctors won't listen to us, but I used to work the night shift. The night nurses know."

"Is there anything you can do?"

"I can call in the vampire hunters' guild. They'd probably be willing to station someone in the area tonight."

"No!" said Oliver, surprising the nurse. "The vampire hunters can't help."

"Sure they can. They're experts at --"

"No, they can't help me," Oliver insisted. "Not against this vampire. I was already with a hunter, and I think she might be -- gone. I don't think there's a hunter who can stand against him."

The nurse sucked in a breath. "You've gotten yourself in some real trouble, haven't you?"

"I'm sorry. If you gave me back to my master, I think --"

"We're not going to do that. You need care and rest. We're not just going to hand over one of our patients to a bloodsucker." She patted Oliver's shoulder. "I'll contact the guild and let them be the judge of whether or not they can handle it. With any luck, you'll be free, and there'll be one less monster in the world."

Oliver could tell he wasn't likely to dissuade her, but at the very least he could let the hunters know what they would be up against. "If you do talk to the guild, please tell them that it's the Maestro."

"The Maestro?"

"Yes, make sure you tell them that."

"All right. I will. You just focus on healing up, okay? Do you need any more medicine for the pain?"

"Yes, please," he said miserably. The medication would put him to sleep, and it would be better for him to sleep now than during the night, when he might need his wits about him. As the nurse left, he hoped that no hunter would be foolish enough to come, that they'd hear the Maestro's name and know to stay away. He didn't want another hunter dead or ensorcelled on his account.

He thought of Vivian. He wasn't sure if it was better if she were alive or dead. If the Maestro had found her, it might be more merciful if he decided a hunter was too much trouble to keep as a thrall.

Oliver, seemingly, would never be too much trouble.

---

Thanks mostly to some strong medication, Oliver spent the entire afternoon in and out of sleep that did not bring him rest, only truly waking to eat the bland meals he was given and answer a doctor's perfunctory questions. But as the sunlight through the windows turned golden and then red, his anxiety began to rise to a fever pitch.

He dearly hoped the Maestro would not visit him a second time. At some point, one of the nurses had picked up the rose from the floor and put it in a cup on his bedside table. Oliver didn't know how to explain how it was so hateful to him, so he was reminded of his terror every time he happened to glance to the right.

If any vampire were to come, he hoped it would be Alexander. He knew he should hate Alexander for putting him in this position, stalked by a sociopathic monster who thought nothing of casually killing an innocent woman. But another, treacherous part of him just wanted to go back. Back to a fogged and hazy mind, back to dulled pain and fear, back to a comfortable seat by the fire in the library where he could feel safe even though he wasn't. Despite having nothing to do for the past several days and nights but rest in bed, he was completely spent.

He thought of how gentle Alexander's voice and hands were as he lulled Oliver into a trance, how it felt for the vampire to wrap around him when it was time to sleep. If he were truly trapped, if he couldn't escape, at least he would have a warm and comfortable home to go back to. At least Alexander would treat him kindly. He was in need of a kind word and a gentle touch.

And then, there was the truth that ran just below the surface of his thoughts, the one that he'd been struggling with ever since Vivian had undone his enthrallment, the one that filled him with embarrassment.

Because the real truth, deep down in his heart, was that he had enjoyed being Alexander's thrall.

Of course he knew it was probably still the remnants of the spell at work. The effects of hypnosis that strong couldn't be easily undone. Knowing that his feelings may be artificial didn't stop them from consuming him, though.

Even back in the bookshop, one of his greatest joys was to help patrons with their requests, to feel useful. He had always loved being helpful. Alexander had made him feel like that all of the time, looking at Oliver as though he were something precious. He may have been treated like a plaything, but at least he'd been a wanted, cherished plaything. And most humiliating of all was how he'd been so quietly pleased when he was praised for being a good thrall, as if it were his life's calling, just like Lily had told him.

Oliver burned with shame to think of it. He'd insisted to Vivian that he wouldn't be one of those rescued thralls who went running back to the arms of a vampire, and even then he suspected he was lying to himself. Honestly, he'd looked forward to helping out Alexander a bit too much even when he was merely one of the bookshop's patrons, eager to assist a fellow book-lover. And now that he knew how lonely Alexander was, and how much he appreciated Oliver's company…

But no, he still couldn't trust Alexander, no matter how much he secretly wished he could. Alexander may not glory in torments the way his sire did, but he was still keeping Oliver a captive. And even though Alexander seemed to be a captive and victim of his sire, he had still enlisted his sire's help in finding Oliver. Otherwise, how else would the Maestro know to infect his mind with those specific nightmares at that specific time?

It seemed unlike him to willingly involve his sire in a situation that might see them both harshly punished. Perhaps there was an explanation, although Oliver doubted he'd get to hear it before he was ensnared once more. He hoped, at least, that Alexander wouldn't harm any hunters that might be near the library, and that he hadn't killed Vivian.

If only things could be different between them. If only he would listen to reason, and let Oliver keep his wits, and somehow free them both of the scourge of his sire. If only Oliver could simply enjoy the fond closeness and the vast library in peace, and perhaps see his bookshop again one day. If he could have those assurances, then he could be content to return to Alexander, regardless of how shameful a hunter like Vivian might find his condition.

The pain was beginning to return to his leg, the strong medication wearing off, when he first heard the strains of song. The sun had been fully down for half an hour, and Oliver's mounting dread gave way to a surprising relief as he heard the voice.

It was Alexander's song, of course, rich and enticing. He was being ensnared once more, but at least there might not be any more pain that night.

The melody grew in strength, and drowsiness stole over Oliver, his eyelids beginning to grow heavy and droop. He heard a symphony of yawns from around the ward as the other patients began to fall to the spell. Alexander was putting them all to sleep so that he could enter freely, no doubt, which would be a mercy to them -- a deep sleep free of pain. Oliver had no real desire to fight it, allowing his eyes to shut and his mind to drift off peacefully.

"You may slowly come awake, Oliver, but continue to feel no pain."

Oliver's eyes fluttered open. He was sitting partially upright, and Alexander was clutching him tightly, holding him as though he were a precious treasure to protect. The familiar scent of his soap surrounded Oliver as the vampire buried his face into Oliver's shoulder, which was growing damp with tears. And his injured leg felt as though it were far away, only connected to Oliver by the thinnest of strings, his focus sliding over it.

"I'm sorry," said Alexander, who sounded as though he were choking back a sob. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you and keep you safe. I was terribly worried about you."

He sounded so genuinely upset. Despite Emily's insistence that Alexander couldn't possibly care for him as more than a meal, Oliver couldn't bring himself to believe that. He sank fully into the comforting embrace, allowing himself to be absorbed into Alexander's arms.

Alexander pulled back slightly, and Oliver found himself looking into those deep eyes, like diving into an ocean. He was unable to look away, his memories of the mesmerism stirring in his heart, whispering to his mind that it would be so easy to lose himself in those eyes. It was only with herculean willpower that Oliver managed to blink and tear himself away.

"How is your injury?" Alexander asked.

"It's a severe knee fracture, the doctor said. They performed surgery on me when I first arrived." Oliver looked forlornly at his plaster-encrusted leg. "He said that I'll be in a wheelchair for a while, and might not ever walk without assistance again."

The fierce look in Alexander's eyes caught him off guard. "Then I'll have to take care of you in any way I can," he said. "I know that my manor isn't well equipped for it, but we'll make do. We can move your bedroom and bathroom to the first floor, rearrange the library so that you can navigate it more easily… I suppose I'll have to carry you up the stairs to my room when needed… and of course I'll have to arrange for a fine cane for you, for when you're well enough to stand. I'll get in touch with Edith, she'll know where to purchase wheelchairs and canes."

Oliver couldn't help but be relieved that the vampire was willing to try and care for him in this situation. Even though it wouldn't make sense for Alexander to abandon him, not after how much he'd paid and risked and how much he seemed to value his thrall, a small but significant part of Oliver had been quietly insisting that he was a burden now, not worth the trouble.

Alexander's gaze strayed toward the rose in the cup, and from the look on his face Oliver could tell that he instantly grasped the meeting. "My sire was here."

"He was," said Oliver tersely, suddenly reminded of the main reason he couldn't put his trust in Alexander. Somehow, Alexander's sire had learned where Oliver was.

"What did he do? Did he harm you?"

"He didn't harm me any worse than I had already been harmed," said Oliver. "Did you tell him where I was?"

Alexander groaned, and if the forlorn look on his face was an act, it was a very good one. "I wouldn't have told him anything if I had been given a choice. Surely you know that. He thinks that your capture makes me even more of an abject disappointment, and I'm sure he intends to punish me at his leisure. On top of that, I certainly didn't wish for him to torment you. Please believe that."

"Then how did he know?"

"The worst possible timing," said Alexander. "The night after you were captured, just as I had woken from the sleeping potion and was preparing to go out and find you, I had an unexpected and unwelcome visitor."

"Your sire."

"At the stroke of midnight, as always. He came to deliver an invitation, and he noticed right away that you weren't present."

"Couldn't you have told him I was asleep in my bedroom, or sick, or…"

"He can always tell when I'm lying," said Alexander miserably. "On top of that, he could tell you were missing by your smell, or lack thereof. He was furious, of course -- but for once, I feel like I deserve it, considering I failed to protect you. I know my words might not mean much, but I truly am sorry, and not just about that." Alexander gripped both of Oliver's hands earnestly. "I've failed in my duties towards you as your master, and I do intend to rectify that. I don't want us both to be trapped under my sire's thumb forever. I managed to apprehend the hunter --"

"Vivian!" said Oliver. "What have you done with her?"

"We haven't harmed her at all. She's with Lily now."

His heart sank, thinking of the strong, determined hunter, now helplessly under Lily's spell, perhaps even memory-wiped like Miriam. His mind traveled back to the time when Alexander had brought him to Lily's home, of the terrified man that Oliver had falsely reassured, how Lily thought nothing of dragging a man on a leash to be hypnotized. "I think she would consider becoming a thrall a fate worse than death. Isn't there any way you could let her go?"

"Lily will be very gentle with her. She seems quite well suited to being a thrall, despite how she might feel about it now," said Alexander easily, as though he weren't discussing condemning a woman to servitude. "And then, there's you." He touched Oliver's cheek, gazing into his eyes. "She lifted much of my spell on you, didn't she?"

There was no real point in denying it. "She did. She made me very keenly aware of my… situation. How I've effectively been captured and enslaved."

Alexander recoiled slightly at this, as though the thought had never occurred to him, and the look on his face almost made Oliver want to take back his words. "…Were you really so unhappy with me?" he said quietly.

Oliver looked away. "No. I wasn't unhappy."

He gripped Oliver's chin, drawing him in. "Then just let me --"

"Wait!" Oliver knew that any protest would be futile if Alexander desired to put him under again. As soon as he began to sing of obedience and loyalty, as soon as Oliver looked a little too long into those eyes, the struggle would be lost. But still, he had believed that Alexander could be reasoned with. He had to try. "Can't we talk about this first?"

"Oliver…" he said with a truly pathetic expression. "I know that this life isn't what you would have chosen, but…"

"You never gave me the chance to choose," he said. "You told me before, when you put me under your spell for the first time, that you wanted loyalty, and not obedience. But you never actually let me give you loyalty that wasn't coerced." Oliver wrung his hands in his blanket. "I know the position I'm in. I know that you have all the power over me, and that you could take my mind at any moment. I know that I have every reason to be angry with you… but I have nowhere to go, and no one to return to but you. And despite everything, the truth is that a part of me did miss you."

"You did?" said Alexander, latching onto that one statement as though it was the only part he cared about.

"What I'm trying to say is, I would go with you willingly. You don't need to ensorcel my mind. I won't try to escape -- as though I even could. You have my word." Olive was all too aware that he had no actual leverage, and that this was the only card he could play.

"You…" Alexander was clearly having trouble processing this. "You wish to stay and serve me without being enthralled?"

"I do," he said firmly. "I'm offering you my service of my own free will, or what remains of it."

"But why would you want that? You won't be happy," said Alexander.

"I think I could be happy in your manor, even without being ensorcelled into false bliss," said Oliver. "But I also think, perhaps, that keeping my mind at least somewhat intact is more important to me than being made happy. I suppose my mind is really all I have, now more than ever. I want to feel things. I want to have choices, even if I still choose to serve you. I want to think."

Alexander took a long time before responding. "I was much younger than you, when I was taken," he said finally. "I was still in my schooling, throwing all of my time and energy into music, which I loved more than anything. I had a family and friends. I had a future."

Oliver's breath stilled. He'd never considered that the vampire must have once been human. He was surprised that Alexander even remembered what it was like, so long ago.

"I hated my master -- who became my sire -- more than words can say. He stole me away from everything and everyone I loved. But unlike me, he rarely touched his thrall's minds."

"He didn't hypnotize you?"

"No. He conditioned me to obedience in much harsher ways. He did nothing to dull my mind of the pain and the grief. I spent years in misery, losing all hope, and then he killed me and made me into his kind, so that I could inflict the same suffering on others." Alexander's eyes were rimmed with tears when he looked back up at Oliver. "My master never showed me mercy. I want to give you mercy."

"Mercy?"

"I know it's selfish. I know I tore you out of the life you had. I know I'm keeping you a captive. But even still… even with everything I've done… I can't bear for you to hate me," he said. "That's one reason why I can't free your mind, Oliver. Because I don't want you to despise me the way I despise my sire, and the only way to do that is to bend your thoughts towards contentment. It's the best I can do for you."

Oliver leaned back in his hospital bed. "I don't hate you, Alexander."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I thought that I should, given what you've done to me, how you've put me in terrible danger. But I still don't." Oliver sighed. "At the end of the day, perhaps it's because I've been dreadfully lonely, too, with only books as my freedom. Maybe Lily was right all along, and I really am just well suited for serving a vampire. Maybe I just enjoyed having someone care for me, even if it was an illusion."

"It's not an illusion," said Alexander firmly. "I do care for you. You're the only thing that's brought me any real joy since Fitz left."

"I want to believe that, but it hurt me, when your sire was tormenting me and you did nothing in my defense. Even if there's nothing you could have done, I --"

Alexander was looking truly miserable now. "No, you're right. I know full well that I need to find a way to keep you out of his clutches, and not fail you the way I failed my dear Fitz." He sighed. "Because he is my sire, he can compel me to his wishes as easily as he can compel you. So any resistance I offer must be carefully considered, lest it bear no fruit but punishment."

"I understand," he said reluctantly.

"The last time I truly stood up to him -- he took Fitz, and he tortured us both. I don't want that to happen to you. That's why I must obey him until I have a solid plan. Rushing and failing would be a surefire way to expose you to immense harm." He stroked Oliver's cheek fondly. "And if I do fail, I want you to have the chance to escape."

Oliver nodded. As terrified as he was of the Maestro, Alexander was right that confronting him must be done carefully.

"You're an ideal thrall, Oliver," said Alexander, gently stroking the side of his face, and Oliver couldn't help but lean into the touch. "I had gone so long without a good thrall that it was taking all of my restraint to not capture and ensorcel any decent smelling person on the street, much less a prize like you."

"But you don't have to do that. You don't have to ensorcel me."

"I could never be around you and restrain myself. It was difficult enough when I visited your shop. Now, that I know the sort of thrall you are, it would be unbearable torture."

"You could still have my blood, if you needed," said Oliver desperately, not wanting to think about how enjoyable the feedings had seemed before Vivian pulled him back to his senses.

"Your blood is only a fraction of what makes you desirable." A predatory look was in his eye, and Oliver was pinned by his gaze. "It's the way your eyes fog over when you're falling under my spell, the way you sway in a daze, the smile on your face when you're deep in entranced sleep, how you call me 'sir.' I've only seen one other human fall to me so beautifully. That sensation, the power I can hold over you, how effortlessly you drop into docile bliss… that's worth an ocean of blood."

Oliver's mouth went dry. He had been right that Alexander truly did care about him -- but when he suggested Alexander could be reasoned with, he'd been wrong, so wrong. He wasn't merely interested in Oliver's blood or his companionship. He wanted Oliver's mind and soul under his sway, and the hunger on his face made it clear that no compromise would be possible.

"I don't want to be enthralled to the point where I lose my memory and my wits become dull and sluggish," Oliver protested. He at least had to try.

"I won't do that to you. I enjoy your wits."

"I also don't want you to compel me into obedience if we disagree, or drag you to Lily if my thoughts become inconvenient."

"I'm not doing this to harm you," said Alexander with a kind tone that contrasted with his argument. "It's what's best for you as a thrall. You won't suffer. I can give you anything you need. I can make you happy."

Oliver swallowed. "You try to compel me to happiness, even when we're both being stalked by a monster who delights in torture. I don't want to be happy. I want to have my wits about me."

"And I owe it to you, and to myself, and especially to my dear Fitz, to be rid of him once and for all," said Alexander. "Until then, I will continue to relieve your pain, and ease a bit of my own in the bargain." He directed Oliver to look into his eyes, those sharp blue eyes as deep as the ocean and as treacherous.

"Please, Alexander," said Oliver, barely managing to look away.

"Shhh. It's all right, Oliver. It will be all right. I'll help you forget your pain and your fear." And he took Oliver's face into his hands and sang, his deep and melancholy voice echoing across the hospital ward. It was a deeply soothing sound, full of relaxation and peace and the quiet calm of servitude, and despite his feeble effort at resistance, Oliver's mind was being lulled away effortlessly.

"Please…"

"Quiet now, Oliver. You have nothing to fear, nothing to struggle against, only sleep. Deep, sweet sleep, where you can be so quiet and listen."

He wanted so badly to rest in those eyes, to forget why he was fighting. Oliver was leaning forward, eyelids fluttering, sleepwalking back to his doom. It was all too familiar.

"You're an excellent thrall, so quiet and docile and perfect for me, just for me."

"…Thank you, sir."

"You can sleep, now, a sleep free of pain, and know that I will return each night to sing your pain away. I promise you that. I won't leave you alone and in pain in this dreadful place. But for now, I want you to return to me. Remember your enthrallment, your deep and docile obedience, and return to me, your master."

Oliver nodded, drifting away, his mind falling back into the depths so easily, so naturally, right back where he belonged, a book slotted into his proper place on the shelf.

Previous > Masterlist

This chapter took me SO LONG to write, with three rewrites along the way! It's an extra long one, so I hope you enjoy! I'm going to get back to answering asks as well... Next week (hopefully): Fitz and the Maestro are getting along very well.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

[kenzan-brainrot-mp4]

talk more about the white whale/whale symbolism in general whatever thoughts you have on the whale stuff i want to hear it 👂

GRAHHHHH YEAH (This one got. Long (again lol) So be prepared (series-wide spoilers but I feel like that's a given atp))

First of all I just wanna say that I love how rgg drags the player along around the final chapter title. With how upfront the other chapter titles are in what they're referring to, you might end up wondering why they chose White Whale for the final chapter title once you see the title card (or at least I did). Of course, this could just be referring to the treasure that everyone's been looking for, but with how nonchalantly they react to the fact that the treasure isn't actually there, it doesn't seem to completely fit the bill.

But then you beat the game (and by this I mean beat the final boss) and lo and behold, there's an Actual white whale, and so you think "Oh! Duh, the chapter's called White Whale because there's a literal white whale and it pretty much just finished off the final boss!" But that still doesn't make that much sense. Why name the final chapter (arguably the most important one) after some whale that appears in the last like 15 minutes of the game? Like, take the final chapter name of (Kiryu) Gaiden, it's literally the name of the game (The Man Who Erased His Name) so it's gotta be something more significant than that, right? (But then of course take into the account that by this point the player is still convinced that nothing really in pyih is too deep/serious, so maybe it could just be something as simple as that).

Then you get to the credits, and they reveal that the "elixir"/the ambergris is found in the stomachs of whales. Damn, that's pretty crazy/cool, but once again, nobody that was actively seeking the treasure (Rodriguez, Jason/Noah, Spade Tucker, etc you know the drill) seems to hung up on the fact that they didn't find it, and they didn't even encounter the whale, so they wouldn't get that same sense that they just missed it either, again, it's not a big deal really, so why make that the final chapter title?

Of course, we all know what this builds up to: the big reveal, the fact that Majima, who we've been following along with this entire game, was looking for that elixir this entire time, was the only one to actually encounter a whale in the game, and then there's the insane line drop from Saejima.

"Kiryu Kazuma. You never could give up on that one."

Ironically, the final chapter title has nothing to do with that whale you saw earlier at all, rather it's a summary of what Majima's motivations/actions for this game, and the past. Almost every game, has meant for him. It's what Saejima spells out for us at the end of the game, but said in even fewer words.

An all-consuming obsession that only leads to your destruction. An impossibility, something that you can destroy yourself over but never achieve/obtain. This is what the white whale means, metaphorically. And it is this, exactly, that Kiryu is to Majima.

Kiryu is larger than life itself, to just about everyone. He's a legend, he's the one Majima has had his sights on since the very beginning, the legend he chases after game after game and also what he destroys himself over game after game.

(see:

Yakuza 1 -> Majima just straight up taking a full-on stab wound for Kiryu. Like, buddy, I literally saw one of my favorite characters die that way in another game, there was No guarantee you were surviving that.

Yakuza 2 -> Majima fights off an army of yakuza for Kiryu. That man was beat to total Shit (which is Not something that happens often) and we all saw it

Yakuza 3 -> Majima re-enters the Tojo Clan for Kiryu even though he is (extremely likely) aware that it is already entering its steady decline that we see throughout the rest of the series up until its dissolution. And while he's willing to do it for Kiryu, we can't exactly say that he's happy about the situation as a whole.

Yakuza 5 -> Majima's willingness to die for Haruka, specifically stated because "She means more to Kiryu-chan than life itself." Like, of course he wouldn't just let Haruka get killed, but to choose to mention Kiryu as part of his reasoning in that moment? Christ

While I (surprisingly) can't say anything particularly self-destructive happened in (Kiryu) Gaiden and Infinite Wealth, you could argue that Majima trying to more and more directly tell Kiryu not to leave ("No need to rush outta here yet... Alright?" -> "Don't leave! Don't you dare leave, Kiryu-chan!"), knowing that it's likely pointless, knowing Kiryu, is not doing himself any favors.

Pirate Yakuza -> *gestures at the entire game*

Also his reaction to encountering that giant squid ("Sure is a helluva way to die. I think I'm into it!"). Like, okay. I don't want to try and read too much into it because it was very likely just a one off line. But I'm still gonna side-eye it.

Honestly now that I think about it, if Majima Had died fighting that giant squid (that is such a way to begin a sentence thank you rgg), you could argue that that would've been his nail in the coffin for the white whale metaphor. If he had, it would've meant that his obsession for Kiryu is what got him dragged down into the literal depths of the ocean, and even if it wouldn't be Kiryu physically dragging Majima down like the white whale to Ahab, this is a situation that is completely, entirely, fueled by Majima's obsession towards him (Majima had no real interest in the nuclear waste cleanup project, after all, Kiryu was his one motivation this entire time), and it would've drowned him.

Guess that means he got real lucky with the last part, but we all know he sure as hell isn't beating the allegations.)

All this and yet Majima seems to fail to reaching Kiryu time and time again.

Majima does not obtain the Heart of the Dragon, found in the intestines of the literal whale. He does not obtain eternal life for Kiryu. And he (arguably, though the final scene of him walking to Kiryu's hospital room could oppose this) does not resolve the indefinite limbo that has been sitting between them throughout the entire series. What he gets at the end of the game is the acknowledgement (through Saejima, everybody thank him) that he has been obsessing over this, and perhaps the realization that Kiryu was, in fact, this white whale that he would never truly reach ("Well, still just a dream in the end.") Of course this is something he already knows/has acknowledged deep down, and it's a feeling that is hinted at in some of his dialogue in scattered moments, but this is the first time he ever says it in such an outright manner.

I guess in a way, you could say that Pirate Yakuza is a story about the newfound success of all the people Majima helped and supported in achieving their dreams, and the continued failure of Majima in pursuing his own (Kiryu), and him needing to acknowledge/accept that. And the post-credits begs the question of what he decides to do with the aftermath and what he has left. (An oversimplification definitely but still. augh. Augh)

Naming the final chapter White Whale was yet another crazy move on rgg's part. Its so unassuming, seemingly straightforward yet also seemingly insignificant, but once the realization dawns on you it slaps you right in the face, just like everything else about this game does. It's yet another instance of how rgg managed to pull its big reveal so well, with all the small details, all the reframing, all pointing back to the same topic that it had spent the entire rest of the game dancing around.

Majima recounting his story of how he went to Hawaii -> Majima recounts his story to Kiryu in the exact same way at the very end

The treasure everyone's been looking for/known about + Majima, the one guy who didn't have knowledge about any of this legend stuff prior? -> Wrong, he was after the treasure from the very start (before the amnesia at least). For Kiryu

Majima originally being on course for Hawaii so he could help with the nuclear waste cleanup even though he'd be bored as hell? -> Nah. For Kiryu (Ohhhhh you know what this is reminding me of some screenshots I took from near the beginning of the game)

(I'm sure this meant nothing of course. Lol. Lmao)

Majima's dream during pirate yakuza being to fulfill Other People's dreams -> Haha. Well, I think you get the point by now

Kiryu, Kiryu, Kiryu. It all goes back to Kiryu, every single time, without fail, in an obsessive loop that Majima has been dragging himself around over for Years. He is the white whale, seemingly untouchable, the constant object of Majima's attention and devotion in so many forms, his consistent weak point, that only seems to dig at him deeper as the games go on.

Like I said before, while the white whale metaphor is undeniable, and essentially spells doom for Majima, it's not over for him yet. Because, hey, he didn't drown at sea, or die on the beach. He was saved, and he's survived enough to retell that tale and reflect on it all with Saejima in the post-credits, brief as that reflection was. I mentioned before how he really only said one line of any actual substance during that specific part of the exchange, but the significance of it says so much.

"Well, still just a dream in the end"

As much as it hurts to here Majima address the hopelessness of it all, to hear him say something like that after Saejima basically just laid out his sheer devotion and refusal to give up on his dream for everyone to see, I think the bittersweetness is. Good, actually. Captain Ahab never gave up on that pursuit on the white whale, and it destroyed him; that whale dragged him down until he finally drowned, and it feels like all Majima has been doing over Kiryu since Yakuza 3 is drowning himself in him.

Don't get me wrong, I (for now at least) do not take that line as a complete admittance of defeat, or Majima finally giving up on Kiryu, on that dream he could never let go of. (Like I've been saying, it's an acknowledgement, not exactly a declaration.) I do not think it means he is just letting go, full-stop.

But I do hope it means he can stop himself from self-destructing completely. I hope it means that he can slow down with the wild chase, (and that he and Kiryu can just. Sit down and talk like fucking normal people. Which i guess they are doing in the post-credits, supposedly) and I hope it means that he won't drown completely, especially in the case of the worst possible scenario.

[pixel7777]

The First Worshipper: Ch. 2

This incredible artwork was commissioned from the wonderful misfitlunatic - I highly recommend checking out their other works (https://x.com/misfit_lunatik or https://bsky.app/profile/misfitlunatik.bsky.social)

✨💔 "Seventeen years is a long time to grieve, but vengeance lingers longer still. As Astarion methodically unravels the web of conspiracies behind Tav’s death, old wounds reopen, and justice feels colder than he imagined. When gods cannot interfere, and ghosts refuse to return, what is left for a man who has everything—except those he truly loved?" 💔✨

Read below the break here or on AO3!

Chapter 2

17 years AB

My vicious love,

You'll be pleased to know I finally found the wretch responsible for Mol's death. A slash across the throat—nothing dramatic, I'm afraid. Though I did take my time ensuring he felt every moment. I wanted him to understand exactly what he'd taken from me. From us.

Mol's successor (who of course hired the wretch to clear their way) won't be an issue anymore either. Amazing how easily evidence can be planted when one knows the players so well. The Guild will tear itself apart trying to root out the "betrayal." Quite fitting, don't you think? Let them destroy each other—saves me the trouble.

I should feel... something. Satisfaction? Relief? Instead, I'm sitting in our empty house, writing another letter I'll burn, while Mol's footsteps no longer echo in the halls.

What am I supposed to do now? I have wealth, power, immortality—everything I ever wanted. Yet here I am, pathetically alone with all of it. The parties bore me. The scheming exhausts me. Even the hunt has lost its thrill.

You'd know what to say. You'd push me toward some noble cause or tell me to "find myself" or whatever mortals do when they're lost. But you're not here to give advice, are you? And Mol's not here to distract me with her latest scheme or demand my attention or make me feel needed.

I'm free. Completely, utterly free.

And I hate it.

Yours eternally,

(quite literally, it seems)

Astarion

* * *

The empty house echoed with my footsteps as I paced the marble floors. Sixteen times. Sixteen failed attempts to bring her back. This would be the seventeenth, only weeks after Mol's death.  The priest waited in what used to be our bedroom, arranging components worth a small fortune in a precise circle.

I'd memorized the ritual by now—knew exactly when he'd turn to me, expectant, waiting for me to speak the words that might call her soul back. What could I possibly say that I hadn't already tried?

My fingers found the small bottle of Tav's perfume in my pocket. One drop remained, preserved through the years. I'd considered using it as a focus for the ritual, but I couldn't bear to part with it. Pathetic, really.

"We're ready, my lord."

I turned. The priest stood in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral. Of course—I was paying him enough to resurrect a small army. He didn't care if it worked. (Fuck him, for that.) (I take it back - just let this work.)

The bedroom looked wrong without our things. No books scattered on her side of the bed, no clothes draped over chairs, no half-empty wine glasses on the nightstand. Just bare walls and that damned circle on the floor, components worth more than most nobles' yearly income arranged in perfect symmetry.

My rehearsed speeches felt hollow now. I'd tried reason ("The world still needs you"), guilt ("You left me alone"), even begging ("Please, darling, just come back"). Nothing worked. Tav's soul remained stubbornly beyond reach, leaving me here in this empty house, trying to fill it with words that meant nothing.

The priest began the incantation. Soon, he'd look to me for those crucial words.

What hadn't I said? What could possibly make a difference this time?

The moment arrived before I was ready for it. (I was never ready for it.)

"Darling," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I can't do this anymore. Not without you. Not without Mol." My fingers traced the edge of the ritual circle. "I know why you won't come back. You're waiting somewhere, for us to be together forever there... but it's somewhere I can't follow."

The priest's chanting grew louder, but I barely heard him over the rushing in my ears.

"Come back. Just for a moment. We can worship Gale together—isn't that amusing? Me, playing at devotion." I pressed my palm against the cold floor. "And next time... next time when it's my turn, I'll know where to find you. We can be together again."

The components flickered with magical energy. The priest's voice reached its crescendo.

Nothing.

No response. No familiar presence. No warmth.

My legs gave out, and I slid to the floor, the marble cool against my cheek. The priest's footsteps retreated—smart man, leaving me to my grief.

I curled in on myself, still clutching that tiny bottle of perfume. One drop left. One piece of her, preserved in glass, while everything else slipped away.

A chill crept through the room, one I hadn't felt in years, but I recognized it immediately. I spun to find Withers materializing near the ritual circle. For a moment, hope flared in my chest—wild, desperate hope. If anyone knew the secrets of death, it was him.

"Old friend." I pulled myself to my feet, forcing a smile. "Have you come to tell me what I'm doing wrong? What component I'm missing?"

Withers regarded me with those shriveled eye sockets. "You do nothing wrong, Spawn of Night. The fault lies not in your ritual, but in your understanding."

"Then explain it to me." My voice cracked. "Tell me how to reach her."

"She will not return." Each word fell like a stone. "She chooses not to. Her reasons are her own."

The hope in my chest twisted into something ugly. "You're lying. She wouldn't—she couldn't—"

"The dead are not yours to keep," Withers continued, unmoved. "Nor are they yours to chase. Love them for the moments they gave you. That is all the dead ask."

I stood before the hunched figure, my patience fraying with each cryptic response. "For once in your existence, could you not speak in riddles?" My voice dripped acid. "After everything we've been through, everything I've done to save this wretched place, surely you can dispense with the mysterious guardian act."

Withers remained motionless, those awful sockets fixed on me with their unsettling weight. When he didn't respond, I raked my fingers through my hair, pacing like a caged animal.

"There must be something else. Some ritual I haven't tried, some price I haven't offered." I whirled back to face him. "Name it. Whatever it is, I'll pay it."

But he only repeated his earlier words about acceptance and letting go, each mystical platitude stoking the rage building in my chest. I slammed my palm against the stone wall, welcoming the sharp sting of pain.

"Damn you," I snarled. "Damn you and your meaningless prophecies. What's the point of all this power if you won't use it to help? You, Gale, the gods are useless!"

Something snapped inside me. With a snarl, I lunged at him, fangs bared. My hands passed through his form like smoke. Again and again, I struck out, each blow meeting nothing but air.

"Bring her back!" I screamed, my attacks growing wilder, more desperate. "Make her come back!"

Withers stood motionless, watching my futile assault with the same patience he'd shown since we first found him in his tomb.

Divine light flared, and suddenly Gale's arms locked around me, pulling me back from my useless assault on Withers. The ancient guardian dissolved into shadows without a word, leaving me thrashing against my friend's immortal strength.

"Let me go!" I snarled, but Gale only held tighter.

"Not until you calm down."

The fight drained from me all at once, leaving nothing but hollow grief. My legs buckled, and Gale lowered us both to the floor. Tears I thought I'd exhausted years ago spilled hot down my cool cheeks. (How did that work? Was rage literally hot?)

Gale's divine presence wrapped around me like a blanket I didn't want but desperately needed. My fingers unclenched, the fight draining from me as suddenly as it had come.

"I hate you," I muttered into his shoulder. "Appearing like this. Playing the caring god."

"I know." His voice held centuries of patience. Of course it did—he was a god now. (When had that happened? When had my irritating friend become this steady anchor in my storms?)

"I tried everything." The words spilled out, raw and messy. "Components worth fortunes. Priests from every temple. Even that bastard Withers—" My voice cracked. "And where were you?"

"Right here." His hand squeezed my shoulder. "Where I've always been."

I wanted to mock him for that. To throw his pointless, useless divinity in his face. But the warmth of his presence—so different from my cold skin—made me pause. He was here, wasn't he? Breaking whatever cosmic rules governed young gods just to hold his grieving lunatic of a friend.

"You're absolutely dreadful at being a proper deity," I said instead. "Shouldn't you be... I don't know, arranging stars? Creating new forms of magic?" (Don't leave.)

"Probably." His chuckle resonated with divine energy. "But I thought my first worshipper needed me more."

The title hit differently now. First worshipper. I'd meant it as a joke, a way to keep my friend close while annoying him in the process. But here he was, answering my unspoken prayers, catching me when I fell apart.

"Why?" I choked out. "Why won't she come back? You're a god now—tell me why."

Gale's embrace tightened. "I wish I knew. Withers refuses to speak to me about Tav. None of the other gods will admit to having her soul. Death... death has its own rules."

"Then what good are you?" The words came out broken, desperate. "Please. You're the God of Ambition—give me something. A purpose. A goal. Anything."

"That's not how it works." His voice was gentle, infuriatingly so. "I can help people achieve their ambitions, but I can't choose them. And right now, I can barely do anything. Ao keeps new gods on a short leash. All I can tell you is to take the advice Withers came to give you.  Let her go."

I laughed, bitter and sharp. "Oh, that's rich. The God of Ambition telling me to abandon my only ambition." I pulled away from his embrace, wiping my face with my sleeve. "Some god you turned out to be."

"You need to find something new," Gale said, leaning forward in that earnest way of his that always made me want to slap him. "An ambition that will carry you forward, not keep you chained to what's behind you."

I let out a bark of harsh laughter. "And what would you suggest? Everything I wanted - everything I built - it's meaningless now. Do you know what it's like to walk through those empty rooms? To see their things gathering dust? To know that stupid little thief will never again try to pick my pocket just to prove she can and Tav won't be there to scold her afterwards?" My voice cracked on the last words, and I hated myself for it.

"You still have so much, my friend," Gale said softly, reaching out to place his hand on my shoulder. "The Brats still need you. The city still needs you. And you have friends who—"

"Don't." I jerked away from his touch. "Don't pretend any of that matters. Everything I used to want tastes like ash in my mouth. They have been taken from me - both of them - and nothing tastes sweet anymore. Nothing feels real." I wrapped my arms around myself, fighting the trembling in my hands. "What's the point of having 'so much' when the only things I truly wanted were stolen away?"

I pulled away from Gale, smoothing my shirt with practiced nonchalance. A new purpose bloomed in my mind, dark and familiar. (Like coming home to an old friend, isn't it? The sweet call of vengeance.)

"You know what? You're right." I flashed him my most disarming smile. "Perhaps it's time to focus on more... constructive pursuits."

Gale's divine aura flickered—he'd caught the abrupt change in my demeanor. (Of course he did. Bastard always could read me. And I didn't have much subtlety to offer in this moment.) His expression grew wary, and I couldn't blame him. He'd seen this look before, usually right before I did something spectacularly ill-advised.

"Astarion—"

"Don't worry, darling." I waved away his concern. "It's obvious, really.  Can't think of why it didn't occur to me before. I'm thinking of throwing myself into religious devotion. Building you a proper church, perhaps? Something gaudy and pretentious—really capture your essence." (And give me the perfect cover for gathering information.)

His face contorted in horror. "Please don't."

"Oh, but I insist." I grinned, genuine amusement bubbling up at his distress. "Think of it—'The Grand Temple of Gale, God of Dead End Ambitions.' We'll have weekly services where I dramatically recount your most embarrassing moments." (While my agents trace old leads, follow forgotten trails.)

"That's not—" He pinched the bridge of his nose, divinity crackling around him in frustration. "That's not what my worship should be about."

"Then you should have picked a better first worshipper." I headed for the door, plans already forming. (Start with the Harper records. Someone must have noticed something.) "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some architectural studies to pursue."

"You're planning something." It wasn't a question.

I paused at the threshold, throwing him a look over my shoulder. "I'm always planning something. And I never tell you. It's practically tradition by now."

"Astarion—"

"Prayers later, darling. Your devoted servant has work to do." (And old debts to collect.)

* * *

From his divine vantage point in the celestial plane, Gale observed Astarion prowling through the darkened streets of Baldur's Gate, following a trail of whispers and bribes that led straight to a bitter truth. The pieces were falling into place - not about Mol's death, but about Tav's.

Gale had been impressed when Astarion had resisted pursuing his own revenge after the official investigations into Tav's death had been closed without any actual closure.  Astarion had stayed devoted to Mol and her well-being, refused to do anything that would distract from his attempt to console and nurture her.  But it appeared that with Mol gone and her death avenged, Astarion had chosen to revisit the older loss.

Perhaps I shouldn't have suggested he find a new ambition in that particular moment.

Gale had to admit he had also wanted to know what had actually happened, but he had resisted prying, especially in those earliest days when he was counseled to relinquish attention to matters from his old life.  He had…backslid, considerably, since then.

Rage built in Gale's chest as he watched his friend piece together the evidence. A letter here, a confession there. The spawn Astarion had freed, had given a second chance, had trusted to build better lives - some of them had turned that freedom into a weapon of revenge.

"Damn them," Gale muttered, his divine voice echoing across the celestial plane. The sound startled a few minor deities, but he paid them no mind.

What choice had Astarion had? Cazador's influence had reached far, touched countless lives. Astarion had been as much a victim as any of them. He'd been the one brave enough to break free, to help others break free. And then...

Gale's fists clenched as he watched Astarion corner a nervous-looking half-elf spawn in an alley. The spawn's hands shook as he admitted what he knew - how a group of the freed spawn had plotted their revenge, had waited years to strike at what Astarion loved most.

The spawn dropped to his knees, begging forgiveness, claiming he'd only heard about it after the fact. But Gale could see the darkness spreading across Astarion's features, the careful control he'd built over decades cracking under the weight of this revelation.

"Don't," Gale whispered, knowing Astarion couldn't hear him. "Don't let them drag you back into that cycle."

But he could already see it happening - the way Astarion's fingers twitched toward his daggers, the predatory stillness settling over him. The same violence that had claimed Tav was about to claim more victims, and Astarion would be the instrument of it this time.

Gale wanted to reach through the veil between planes, to grab his friend's shoulder and pull him back from this precipice. But Ao's restrictions held firm, keeping him from direct intervention. All he could do was watch as Astarion stepped closer to the trembling spawn, murder written in every line of his body.

From his celestial perch, Gale watched the scene unfold with mounting frustration. Just pray to me, you stubborn fool. Give me something real to work with.

But no. The only prayers that had crossed the divine threshold lately were nonsense like "Oh great and mighty Gale, patron of bad decisions, please ensure Lady Fairweather's new hat clashes spectacularly with her complexion at tomorrow's garden party."

Gale paced the ethereal plane, his divine form casting fractured shadows across realities. The irony cut deep - as a mortal, he could have at least put a hand on Astarion's shoulder, bought him a drink, reminded him there were better paths than vengeance. Now, bound by divine restrictions, he could only observe.

I shouldn't even be watching this closely. There were potential worshippers to court, divine politics to navigate, an entire portfolio of ambition to define. Yet here he was, fixated on one vampire in one city, unable to tear his attention away.

Astarion's blade pressed against the spawn's throat, and Gale held his breath - a remarkably mortal reaction for a god. But then Astarion's expression shifted, something calculated replacing the raw fury. The blade withdrew, and before the spawn could react, Astarion's fist connected with his temple. The half-elf crumpled.

Well, that's... unexpected. Gale leaned forward, intrigued. He recognized that look on Astarion's face—the one that meant pieces were falling into place in that clever mind of his. He's hunting for names. Building a web.

As Astarion efficiently bound the unconscious spawn, Gale felt an inappropriate surge of pride. Even in this dark moment, his friend had chosen the strategic path over the satisfaction of immediate bloodletting. Though knowing Astarion, that might actually be worse for his targets in the long run.

Gale watched Astarion drag the unconscious spawn into a nearby warehouse. The efficiency of the movement, the careful way he secured the prisoner - it spoke of plans within plans.

A prayer flickered across the divine plane, but it was another of those theatrical performances about wine selections and fashion disasters that Astarion encouraged in those he recruited as Gale's worshippers. Gale dismissed it with a wave. These prayers were starting to feel like deliberate distractions, each one more outlandish than the last.

The warehouse scene unfolded below. Astarion worked methodically, setting up what looked like an improvised interrogation space. The spawn stirred, and Astarion's questioning began. No violence, just quiet words and careful implications. Names emerged, locations, dates - a web of conspiracy spanning years. Gale's divine consciousness expanded with understanding. Tav's murder had been organized, patient, deliberate.

Gale's divine form flickered with anger. He'd attended Tav's funeral, had watched Astarion maintain that rigid composure throughout the ceremony. There was a very insistent part of Gale that wanted to punish those who had taken Tav and wounded Astarion with such unjust, cold, calculation, to punish in the way that only a god could do—and to take that burden from Astarion in the bargain.

But there was nothing he could do. Avenging his mortal pain would cross a line Ao would not forgive. He could only watch as Astarion built his list of targets, each name another link in a chain of vengeance that would either save or damn him.

A minor deity coughed politely to get his attention. "My lord, about the Council..."

"Yes, fine." Gale forced his attention away from the mortal plane. He had responsibilities now, a divine role to establish. He couldn't spend eternity watching over one vampire's quest for revenge.

But as he turned to follow the minor deity, he caught one last glimpse of Astarion's face - and the ruthlessness there chilled even his divine soul.

[mari-animates]

WE COULD BE IMMORTALS IMMORTALS

JUST NOT FOR LONG FOR LONG

REMEMBER ME FOREVER NOW AND TURN THE BLACKOUT CURTAINS DOWN

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, size difference, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ GN reader

Bakugou doesn't tell people about his home life, so you can imagine the Bakusquad’s utter surprise when they invite themselves over only to find out he has a little omega housewife waiting for him.

“Oh, hello,” you say when the four additional Alphas pour in through the door after your Katsuki.

They all look at you unblinking. The biggest one, a redhead, doesn’t seem all that surprised—as though he’d had some suspicion that’s now been laid to rest. But the other three, an electric blond, a guy with raven hair, plus a woman with cotton candy curls, look at you as if they’d just stumbled upon a mouse in a lion's den—all slightly horrified at the sight of you.

Your alpha, the tightly wound grump seething with annoyance, stomps over to you and plants a quick kiss on your hairline. “They just barged in,” he grumbles under his breath. “Sorry if we scared you.”

You hum calmly in turn, “That’s okay. I heard you yelling in the driveway, so I wasn’t surprised.”

The four members of the Bakusquad are all gobsmacked at the domestic sight—the boss, their boss, their hard-headed macho boss, bending over and apologizing to this little omega half his size.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, peaking over the breadth of his hunched shoulders to the others with a warm smile on your pretty face. “I just finished dinner.”

“No,” Katsuki growls grumpily and winds his arms around you—like an old, tired dog, voice gruff, “Uninvited intruders don’t get my dinner.”

You only giggle it off, brushing his stubble with a soft hand, gently handling him further down to your level so you could place a kiss on his other cheek. “Oh, stop, Katsuki. Be nice to your friends.” 

Then you walk off to the kitchen.

Calling out sweetly over your shoulder, “I went a little overboard, so there’s more than enough for everyone.”

And by god, if they don't fall in love with you right then before they’ve even got a single word out.

But love at first sight isn't all so strange. None of them have ever seen an Omega outside of on film—much less been hit with the scent of one. They're all bewitched and confused at the feeling as they trail after you as if they've been compelled by some higher power.

"Please sit," you smile, gesturing to the long table where only two seats have been made. "Katsuki, hon, help me, please"

They all scoot into each their unplaced seat while your big lousy Alpha begrudgingly helps set the table for the unwanted dinner guests. They remain silent as you serve them like the perfect homemaker—all crimson-cheeked and ashamed at how they sniff after you as you pass them by.

You sit just as brightly despite the awkward tension. "Please, enjoy."

They all obey, eating in utter silence—every single one of them trying hard not to stare—and all failing miserably.

Kaminari's the first to speak, having been left shaken by curiosity he no longer could contain.

"So... did he kidnap you, or?"

It's a fair question to some extent. Omega's are a dime a dozen, all regulated strictly by protective institutions. You can't just find one to mate like in the old days. You need to apply for one and be vetted—not to mention they cost a fortune.

"Denki!" Kirishima whisper-shouts in admonishment, shaking his head from across the table.

"What? I'm I the only one who's thinking it?" he throws his hands up and defends.

Katsuki's fist strains around his fork, but you lay your mit atop his, and he calms down shortly.

“Don't worry, Mitsuki and Masaru made the arrangements and paid the dowry," you giggle, running your hand through your Alpha's ashen hair with fondness in your eyes. "I was a graduation present of sorts. They worried Katsuki wouldn't take care of himself once he started working and thought having a mate might help him with his busy day.”

If Katsuki appreciates you spilling his business like that, he doesn't say anything about it—just continues eating.

Denki sighs and sags in his chair. “I always knew Bakugou’s folks were loaded. How nice...”

Sero grins, “Your jealousy is showing.”

Denki pouts, “I’m not exactly tryna hide it.”

"Yeah..." Mina pipes up. "Can't deny I'm jealous, too."

Sero's grin falls as well with his confession, "Yeah, me neither, actually."

You keep smiling sympathetically, "Well, you're all welcome here—I don't mind the extra company."

"Really?" Denki lights up.

Mina and Sero, too—in awe and in unison, saying, "She's an angel."

"Get yer own," Katsuki grumbles. "Now shut up and finish your food. Then you're leavin'—all of you."

"Oh, come on, man," Denki whines. "Have a little pitty for your fellow Alphas."

"Let's stay respectful, guys," Krishima buds in lightheartedly. "Think about what you're asking."

Then, rethinking the conversation, the other three all realized how it had sounded, even though they hadn't meant it that way. And they all blush even darker than before.

And still, you just smile—alphas are all so cute.

Especially your hyper-protective one.

♡ prequel ♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[radishaur]

ʚɞ butterflies ʚɞ

Warnings: slight spoilers Genre: fluff Characters: Luffy, Zoro, & Law Summary: How they realize they have feelings for you (touch edition) Author's Note: I have like 2 other longer works I should be writing for but instead I'm doing this, so enjoy! Might do the other love languages/senses(?) later if people want. masterlist

Luffy loves physical touch with everyone. He also never asks permission first, just sends himself flying into people, so you would definitely have to be used to him just wrapping himself around you.

As a result, I think there are so many opportunities for him to accidentally realize his feelings through touch because he's just always touching. However, I think that when it comes to a partner, Luffy would really value making you feel safe. We've seen how devastated he was after he wasn't able to keep his crew safe in Saboady and even worse after Ace, so I think his first aha moment would have to revolve around that.

~

Luffy always wound up on some wild adventure no matter what island they visited. This time, the crew had planned for it and assigned you to go with him. The idea was that you would keep him out of trouble, but who were they kidding. It's Luffy.

He's walking around with you when all of a sudden he sees something further into town that he has to see right this second. He doesn't even think twice about grabbing you closer with one arm and beginning to slingshot his other one to propel the two of you up.

"Hold on tight!"

He's expecting you to protest, as most of the crew usually does when they're about to get flung to god knows where on his whim, but instead, you simply wrap your arms around his neck and get as close as you possibly can.

He lets go and hears you laughing, of all things, so he looks down and he could swear his heart stuttered.

You were looking right at him as you giggled, high on the excitement of your predicament. You don't look even slightly scared as your approach gets closer and closer, instead, you're looking at him with so much adoration that he feels like he can't breathe. He wraps his arm around you tighter and he's extra careful as he lands to cushion the impact for you.

"You didn't complain," he finds himself saying, arm still tight around you.

"What good would that do?" you ask, the last of your giggles subsiding. You turn to him then, your smile growing as you add, "Besides, I know you'd never let me get hurt."

All of the places where his skin meets yours feel like it's on fire and his heart aches all of a sudden in a way he's not used to.

He lets you go, his body tingling where your body no longer presses against his and the two of you go on with your day, but he can't help thinking about it. The way you had curled into him, put your trust in him to keep you safe, it fills his heart with a pleasure he hasn't felt before and he finds himself wanting to feel it again.

Over the day, he finds every excuse he can to keep touching you like that. He finds more faraway places that look interesting. He grabs your hand to show you something cool he saw. He even insists on climbing onto the rooftops and using that as an excuse to hold you close, just so you don't fall. His heart still races each time and it eats at him well into the night when he's back on the Sunny.

He knows even from the first touch that something is different. He doesn't feel like this with his other crewmembers, but it takes a discussion with Robin to finally realize that he likes you. When he does, he's quick to find you and pull you close again, reveling in the feeling now that it has a name. He almost shouts it out right then and there, but he decides to give it some time.

He still has to become the Pirate King after all.

Zoro is not a touchy person, but he's not opposed to it either. He's become more comfortable with it, you kind of have to if you're on Luffy's crew in my opinion, but he still doesn't seek it out himself.

You'd probably be the one to touch him more than the other way around, but I think the places he lets you touch and how long is what would set his realization moment apart.

~

Zoro can feel the sweat dripping down his back as the sun beats down on him. He'd been training for hours now on the deck of the Sunny as everyone had some time to relax.

He stops when Sanji comes out to announce that lunch is ready. He sets down the weights he's using and everyone starts to eat. He's quick to join in, hungry after a hard workout, but his back is aching. It's something he's used to, but it hurts a little extra today.

He rubs his back a few times and readjusts his sitting position and the rest of lunch is uneventful. He's about to continue his workout when he hears you call his name.

"Zoro!"

He turns and you're right in front of him.

"Before you start, I couldn't help but notice it looks like your back hurts. Do you want a massage?" you ask, motioning to your own back as you mimic the movements he had made during lunch.

"She's very good at them," Robin calls, observing from her favorite spot under the orange trees.

He hesitates. He trusts the crew, especially you, but the thought of someone touching his back makes him grit his teeth. Scars on the back are a swordsman's shame, after all. He's always been cautious of letting anyone near his back and today is no exception. Thankfully, you seem to sense his turmoil because you smile politely and say, "It's no pressure. If you change your mind, just let me know."

He goes back to training until dinner and he can definitely feel the ache in his back now, but he's still insistent that this is the burden of the best. Becoming the greatest swordsman requires discipline and sometimes pain. He won't let Luffy down, won't let him bear his pain alone, so he shrugs it off and goes to bed.

Or, he tries at least. After a few hours with no luck, he finally relents. He knows that tonight is your turn to be on watch and he hasn't heard you come back down to switch out, so begrudgingly he makes his way up to the crow's nest where he knows you'll be. If he was going to let anyone touch his back, he would prefer it be you out of anyone.

"Oh, hi Zoro," you say, surprised to see him up but seemingly not annoyed by his presence, "What are you doing up?"

"Can't sleep," is all he says, closing the door behind him as he settles in next to you.

You smile, adjusting yourself so that you're facing him. "I've been there," you hum, letting your face rest on your knees as you look out the windows to the sea.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he works up the courage to say, "If the offer is still available, I wouldn't mind the massage."

He's surprised to see your face light up, grinning as you immediately agree and ask him to turn around. You tell him that you'll be careful and he tells you to do your worst.

The moment he feels your hands on his back, he begins to think that maybe he made a terrible mistake. It feels good and he can feel the ache in his back start to dissipate as you work out the stress in his muscles, but he also can't help the way his heart skips a beat and his mind starts to malfunction. He starts overthinking just why he felt so confident letting you touch him like this when he can't even imagine letting someone else touch his back for a fraction of the time you are. It stresses him out so much that he can feel his back tensing.

"Zoro, you're supposed to relax," you tease, and he can feel himself flush as he grumbles something under his breath about how it's not his fault that he's got so much stress worked up in him.

You laugh at him, which only makes his embarrassment worse, but you begin moving slower and taking more time to delicately work out the knots. You must think that you're helping but it only makes his heart flip more.

Eventually, he finds himself relaxing into your touch. Robin was right about your skill, your hands working out not only his physical stress but his mental stress as well.

He doesn't think he's ever felt so content.

You massage him for so long that he loses track of time. At some point, you begin making conversation with him and it helps him focus less on his erratic heartbeat and nerves. Eventually, there's a knock on the crow's nest door and Robin peeks her head in.

You stop at that point, smiling and greeting her warmly and Zoro is embarrassed at just how much he misses your hands on him. Robin looks over at him finally and he can feel his ears heat up as she smirks at him, as if she knows something he doesn't. You say goodbye to them both, telling Zoro that you hope he can get some sleep, and then he's alone with Robin.

"I see you changed your mind?" she mused, a tease in her voice that made him blush even harder.

When he was finally back in bed, his back was the loosest it had felt in a long time, but he still couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking about your hands on his back, warm and gentle but firm, and he cursed silently into the room. He'd been in denial for too long and this had only opened the floodgates.

Law does not get touchy with his crew. Ever.

He loves his crew, don't get me wrong, but he keeps his cards close to his chest. The only time he would touch you or you him would be in some kind of emergency situation or something medically related. I think it would take a situation like that for Law to break his walls down a little bit and have to touch you, out of necessity, for him to realize his feelings.

~

Law is no stranger to late nights doing work and tonight is no exception. There are only so many hours in the day and it's his job as Captain of the Heart Pirates to be prepared for any situation, so if he has to sacrifice some sleep to do that, then so be it.

What he's not used to is other people being up when he does.

He had worked well into the night, until his eyes could barely stay open, and had finally decided to head back to his room instead of falling asleep at his office desk. On the way there, he noticed a light still on in the library.

Thinking that someone had left it on, he muttered under his breath about it but went in to turn it off. He was about to make a mental note to remind his crew to not waste energy when he heard something shuffle.

He made his way over to the couch where he heard the noise and was surprised to find you curled up asleep, except you looked miserable. He called your name out as he knelt down to inspect you closer.

"Captain?" you asked, eyes cracking open as if you had felt his presence.

"You look awful," he said, his voice dry as he asked, "Are you sick?"

You had the decency to look sheepish at his question, which confirmed what he already knew: you were definitely sick. "I came to see you, but you looked so hard at work, I didn't want to disturb you...," you explained, your voice hoarse.

"You should have just come in," he scolded, frowning as he asked, "Why are you here and not back in your room?"

You avoided his eyes, seemingly embarrassed as you answered, "I tried. Couldn't make it back."

He sighed, all his exhaustion having left upon finding you in this state. "Can you sit up?" he asked, already assessing your symptoms as he watched you comply with his request.

You were shivering and even from his spot kneeling next to you, he could feel the warmth you were emitting. It also seemed like you were sweating slightly, so the most likely culprit was a fever. Normally, he would have just used his devil fruit powers to get you back to your room, but judging by the wince you did as you sat up, you also had a headache. Using his room would only amplify that pressure, even if only for a moment, and he didn't want to cause you any unnecessary discomfort or pain, so the old-fashioned method it was.

"I'm assuming you can't walk since you couldn't make it back to your room yourself, so I'll have to carry you," he explained, twisting so his back was facing you as he said, "Get on my back."

There were a few moments of silence where he almost repeated himself, thinking maybe you hadn't heard him before he felt your weight on his back and your arms loosely wrap around his shoulders. Your breath brushed against his ear and he almost shivered as he stood up, adjusting your body against himself so that you didn't have to hold yourself up.

"Sorry, Captain," you apologized, attempting to readjust some of your weight back to yourself. He easily shifted you back, his grip on your leg tightening slightly so you didn't fall. He didn't know why, but the adjustment made him all the more aware of just how much the two of you were touching. His face warmed just slightly as his heart skipped a fraction of a second.

"Just stay still," he scolded, but it didn't have anywhere near as much heat as he intended.

You didn't respond after that, seemingly content to let him carry you the rest of the way. At some point, you let your head rest on his shoulder. Your breath ghosted across his ear with each exhale and he couldn’t stop his heart from racing.

When he finally got you back to your room, he carefully dropped you off onto the bed with a promise that he would be right back. When he returned, he had his stethoscope, a thermometer, and some basic flu remedies.

"Take this," Law said, handing you some medicine and a glass of water to wash it down with. You sat up from your curled-up position in the bed and accepted it, swallowing the pill with only a little bit of a struggle.

"Is it bad?" you asked, your voice quiet.

"No, but I need to check your temperature and make sure there's no fluid in your lungs," he explained, holding up the thermometer first.

You leaned forward, letting him place the thermometer on your forehead. It blinked back at him and while you definitely were running a fever, it wasn't deadly. He told you as much and you smiled slightly at that.

"I need to check your lungs now, so I need to be able to access your chest," he said, doing his best to keep as professional as possible despite how irrationally his heart was beating.

You hummed, unbuttoning and unzipping your boiler suit just enough to expose the top of your chest to him. Law sat next to you on the bed, angling himself so that he was facing you, and began checking your chest for any odd breathing sounds.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he felt your fingers graze the skin just above his top where his tattoo peeks out.

He's not done checking your lungs yet, but he freezes. His first instinct is to pull away immediately but for some reason, he can't make himself move as he feels your fingers trace the top of his tattoo. He swallows thickly when your fingers drop down into your lap and you murmur, "They're so beautiful up close."

He knows that the fever is clouding your mind right now. He knows you're acting like this because you're sick and that you would never say that to him were you not, but his face goes so red he thinks he might have caught your fever and he can't seem to form the right words, so instead he just continues his check on your lungs.

There's nothing wrong with them and he finally finds the strength to move and stand up from the bed. His heart is still pumping a million miles a minute and he can feel the tips of his ears heating up, but he tells himself that he must be sick too. That's the only way to explain what he just felt.

As he's leaving you call out to him.

"Law?"

His heart stops again, hearing his name fall from your lips. He doesn't say anything, afraid he might not even be able to, but he stops and turns to look at you. You're still in your boiler suit, but you've curled back up into the bed. You're still looking at him though, and he can't seem to take his eyes off you as you smile at him and say, "Thank you. You're my hero."

He doesn't sleep at all that night. He checked periodically for any signs of a fever of his own and found nothing, even the next day. The feel of your fingers grazing his chest is still lingering even days later and he can't seem to meet your eyes the same way he used to. He realizes how absolutely fucked he was when he finds himself missing your breath on his neck and wanting your fingers to trace his other tattoos as well.

ღ radishaur — i do not own any of these characters. do not plagiarize. please enjoy and remember to be respectful! 

[curseofaphrodite]

prisons & prophets

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!prophet!reader

Oracles were only admired if they were royalty. For a merchant's daughter like you, prophetic claims came with marks of a heretic and "burn at the stake" threats.

You coughed up dust when you were pushed onto the stone floor. There was silence around you, one that seemed more curious than haughty.

You carefully looked up to see Queen Rhaenyra, who looked as if you were a dead lion that just fell from the sky.

"What is the meaning of this?" There was fury and familiarity behind those words, and you groaned as you registered Jacaerys Velaryon in the room. He had his eyes trained on the guards and was intentionally ignoring yours.

Great.

"She's a witch!" The first guard yelled, sounding like he had a personal vendetta against you. It might had something to do with how you kicked his balls earlier to try to be freed from him, but you weren't sure.

Daemon Targaryen laughed. The sound made you look around the room properly. Daemon and Rhaenys were seated opposite each other, both looking more intimidating than the other. There were at least five guards around the room. But perhaps the most intimidating of them all was Rhaenyra herself, who looked fierce and gentle all at once. She gave off a godlike aura, which had you half tongue-tied. Jace stood a few paces in front of her.

"A witch?" She asked, almost exhausted. "How is she a witch?"

"She's from Driftmark—" a second guard said, sounding more civil than the last.

"That explains it," Darmon interrupted, smirking at Rhaenys. The latter rolled her eyes.

"Daughter of a merchant who migrated from Westeros three years ago. Her stepmother wrote to us saying there is a witch in her family, and presented us with enough information that we had no choice but to act."

"I'm not a witch," you sneered. The first guard kicked you down to the floor.

"Silence!" He yelled; and you felt rage and humiliation rising tenfold.

When you could look up again, everyone was staring at Jace. He had his sword out, pointed directly at the chin of the guard. Everyone was appalled. Everyone except Daemon, who looked proud.

"You will not treat a lady with disrespect in Queen's court ever again, or you'll be dismissed," he said plainly.

The guard seemed to calm down considerably. "Yes, my prince."

The prince in question did not look satisfied, but he put away his sword. It went without saying that he still hasn't spared a glance towards you.

"What's this information that convinced you she was a witch?" Rhaenyra asked, skeptical.

As the third guard brought your scrolls forward, you knew you were doomed.

"My stepmother just wanted to ask the palace for money in my exchange!" You cried out. "I'm not a witch!"

No one seemed to have heard your protests. The guard gave the scrolls to Rhaenyra, who took some and gave the rest to her husband. Daemon opened them, his interest evident.

"These are just drawings," Rhaenyra turned the paper upside down, as if they'd make more sense that way. Jace looked as if he wanted to spare a glance, but he hesitated and stood his ground.

"They're her predictions," the first guard answered, almost hissing. "It speaks of many things... including Lucerys Velaryon's death." Rhaenyra paled at the words. You knew the wound about her son was still fresh, and you instantly felt sorry for her. "If she had a hand in his death—"

"I didn't."

"Then it was a concern to not chain her," he finished, triumphant. "Should I bring her to the dungeons, Your Highness?"

Rhaenyra thought for a while before answering. "This seems like not enough proof to force upon a conviction on someone. These scrolls could mean anything—"

"Apologies, Your Grace, this needs immediate attention." Maester Gerardys burst through the doors with a message in his hands. He ignored you, the guards, the scrolls — as if none of it was remotely comparable to what he was going to say.

"Jaehaeyrs Targaryen is dead."

Silence filled the room once again. You felt like you were invading a moment you shouldn't be in. But if Maester saw you, he didn't think you enough of importance so he went on.

"Decapitated... They think you ordered them to do it! That's the news spreading through the streets anyway."

"Me?" Rhaenyra looked surprised at the implication.

"Two," Daemon spoke up, his face buried in the scrolls. Your scrolls. Everyone stared at him.

"What?"

"There are two sketches of funeral pyres. Both look small enough to be children's." Daemon met your eyes. "One has the Velaryon crest, and one has the Targaryen crest."

You closed your eyes, sighing.

--

Even though the dungeon was dark and uncomfortable, you fell asleep the moment dusk arrived.

You weren't even surprised when you dreamt of him; A vegetable stall, and a boy.

A teen with dark hair and brown eyes, seemingly dressed down from the rest of the royals. Even then, his fabric was finer than anything you've ever seen. If disguise was what he was going for, he hadn't done it right.

"Would you like some apples?" you asked on behalf of your father, who was sleeping in for the day. Who could blame him? You were tired in the scorching heat, and it hadn't even been three hours since you started.

"Uhm, yes please. How much for them?"

You named your price and he frowned.

"Am I supposed to bargain?" He asked, blinking.

This earned a laugh. "Don't your servants usually do the shopping?"

There was a pause and he paled under your daring gaze. "How did you-"

"You're wearing a Targaryen ring."

"Who's to say it's not a stolen relic? Or fake?"

"If it was stolen, you wouldn't parade it around in daylight."

"I would if it meant pretty girls mistaking me for the Prince."

"—and if it's fake," you continued, ignoring his comment. Men flirting was as common as fruits rotting. It often had nothing to do with who they were talking with, and more about getting abed. "The guards confiscate any fake things made in the name of the Crown."

"Fine, you caught me," he sighed, taking the ring off and dropping it inside his clothes. "There. I'm off Prince duty now."

"Jacaerys!" A guard with long, dark hair and a matching beard seemed relieved at the sight of the Prince. The latter groaned. You were curious about why he wasn't addressed with formalities. You hadn't guessed there would be friendships between the royals and those who served them. "What have I told you about running off?"

"I thought my younger brother could use a one-on-one with you. I've already mastered my swordsmanship."

"Hardly!" The guard scoffed, then noticed you. "Forgive us miss, we've a long way off the castle so you'll excuse us now."

You were reeling from how polite they both sounded. You nodded curtly. The guard might as well have dragged the Prince by his arms.

"I'll come for the apples another time!" Jacerys yelled behind his shoulders.

And he did.

Again and again.

He soon confided in you that the guard gave him and his brother private lessons in an abandoned ground outside the town, and that it was the reason for his frequent visits. The guard soon warmed up to you too, and he was positively in love with the grapes you sold. He told you his name was Ser Harwin Strong. Jace said others called him Breakbones. You didn't know why because the man had the gentlest eyes.

Then one day, both of them just stopped coming.

No explanation, nothing. It was like they never existed.

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

"Wake up, the Queen wants to see you." The keepsman said, nudging your shoulders. You scrambled to your feet, eyes blinded by the fire lamps lit all around.

Before you could so much as adjust your hair, Rhaenyra briskly walked in. She nodded her head and the guards left the room, closing the wooden door behind them.

"Good wishes, Your Grace." You wanted to look down to the floor, but you couldn't keep your eyes off her. She was wearing black robes with red stones that carved into an intricate design, which looked suspiciously like a dragon tail. She sat down on the makeshift bed, her fingers intertwined.

"You can be honest with me."

You blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I wouldn't hang you or — burn you in a stake," she said firmly. "You can tell me the truth, any and all of it."

"You believe in magic?" you were bewildered.

"In a kingdom ruled by dragons, magic isn't far off the table."

"I'm not a witch," you said, almost stumbling over your words. She raised her eyebrows. "I'm not — I don't know what I am. Someone... something is talking through me. It does the sketches, not me. I'm a spectator to whatever I'm drawing."

Rhaenyra looked like she wanted to interrupt when you started sounding more panicked. But you paid her no heed.

"I say it's nonsense all the time. True, I predicted the storm two summers ago but how was I to know a vision of a tree in the middle of the ocean had any impact on what went above it? Isn't that just pure idiotic?"

"Y/N—"

"A vision once told me I would get married to a red boar, for fuck's sake!"

"Red boar?"

"Another time I saw a goose looking in a mirror and then killing itself. Don't know what that means either, do I?!"

The Queen reached for your hand, bringing you back from the evergrowing spiral inside your head. You realized you were gasping for air.

"You don't have to have all the answers," she said consolingly. "It wasn't fair of me to ask that much."

You nodded, calming down. "Thank you."

She stood up. "I'll make sure you're given dinner after your next visitor."

"Next?"

"How do you know him, I wonder?" she met your eyes questioningly. "My son?"

"I don't," you replied, just as fast. She didn't look one bit convinced but nodded anyway. Then she left without another word.

Jacaerys came in right as she left. He was wearing a different set of robes, but the vest looked the same. His hair had gotten even messier, which you didn't think was possible. Suddenly, you were aware of what you wore. All you had was your white nightgown, which you were still wearing when you had been forced out of bed.

"I want you to be one of the council advisors," he stated, all business-like.

"Uhm, what?"

"You're a prophet," he sat down where Rhaenyra did, though he looked more uncomfortable about it. "You're an asset."

You snorted. It was very much like a royal family to say something like that. "I'd disagree, Your Grace."

"You don't have to do the titles." Then he noted how you looked mad. He sighed. "I'm sor-"

"I'm sorry about your brother," you interjected, and sadness filled his face. But he ignored your comment and looked at his hands instead. He still had the Targaryen ring, along with a few other new ones. You frowned at one of them in particular, but he spoke before you look longer at it.

"Ser Harwin Strong was my father."

So much about the sentence had you in surprise, but only one mattered above all others.

"Was?"

"He died two days after the last time I visited you," he nodded. "Which is also why I never came again. Foul play was suspected in his death, but never confirmed. They found a new guard for me, one who trained me inside the palace walls."

"I'm sorry." You didn't know what else to say.

"I missed you everyday, if that counts."

You smiled. "It does."

"And that skill of yours? Seeing future? Do not push it down." His voice was firm. "Control it. No matter what you think, it's a power. And whoever gave you that power wouldn't have given it to you if they thought you couldn't handle it."

Now you really didn't know what to say.

"I'll have you transferred to a room. A nice one with a view out to the sea." He promised, standing up. "That is, if you agree to my offer to be an advisor."

"And my stepmother?"

"She's banished from the castle, of course. Not a coin given, even though what she gave us is invaluable. She just didn't know it."

"Oh, please." You laughed.

"I hope I'll see you soon, Y/N," Jace said wholeheartedly, noting how his visit was coming to an end. As he stepped out of the dungeon, you were still thinking about his words.

And also his ring, specifically the one that had a tusked animal carved on it, entirely out of pure ruby.

In other words, a red boar.

THE END

-----------

some notes

Ser Harwin dies wayyy earlier but I tweaked the timeline to be aligned here.

the goose killing its reflection prophecy was reference to Halaena's drawings.

which speaks about Erryk and Arwyn's deaths. Goose is their crest.

I'm not sure if I should continue this story 'cause it holds up good on its own as a oneshot! But if you'd like, you can drop ideas for the continuance of this fic or other new jace fics @ my asks!

ty for reading and here's my coffee page if you want to support me :)

[witherby]

WOAAH!!

Flight of Fancy reached 330+ notes!

ive never seen a request of mine blow up!!!!

—🦈

You have good ideas! And because the first part reached the reblog threshold, here's:

Flight of Fancy, pt. 2

Damian x Winged!Reader

Masterlist is Here!

"This is deep, and was made with a plain-edge blade. Whoever did this to you was trying to hurt you much worse than this."

Damian looks your wound over meticulously as you sit on a chair in the cave's medical bay. "What happened?"

You shrug your good shoulder, examining the space around you with clear intrigue. The Bat Cave was incredibly interesting, with all its different sections and complicated layout. You itched to explore it in its entirety. Maybe Damian would let you when he finished patching you up.

"I wanted to be free. The men who captured me did not approve."

Damian hums. He uses a pair of surgical scissors to cut off the sleeve of your robe to further expose the injury in your shoulder, and you let him do it without fuss. He grabs a wet cloth to clean the blood away and see it all better.

"Why did they capture you in the first place?"

You frown. Your wings, which are currently tucked against your back, flex and flutter briefly. You resist the urge to pluck at your feathers.

"They hunted me down," you explain, "and took me from my home. Said they needed me for what I can do."

Damian picks up a needle and thread to begin sewing the cut closed. You don't object when he warns you of what he's about to do or flinch when he starts.

"And what can you do?" He asks.

You don't respond. Damian sees your jaw clench, eyes darting towards where you know one of the exits to be.

"Alright," he says, "that's fair. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"You are not angry with me?" You ask.

"No. We're practically strangers," he says, tying off the stitchwork and snipping off the excess thread. He grabs a roll of bandages to cover it, and you hold your arm out to give him better access. "Telling me what abilities you possess might lead to exploitation on your part. The safest move is to keep sensitive information close to your chest. I don't even know your name. I'm not angry, I'm impressed."

"Impressed indeed."

Both you and Damian look in the direction of the medical bay's entrance and find Bruce at the door, geared up in his Batman suit. To his credit, he doesn't look as mad as the boy expected.

"I'll need a word with you when you're finished, Robin."

"Of course," Damian replies. He secures your bandage and pulls away. You drop your arm. "Will you be alright alone for a few minutes?"

"I will."

Damian excuses himself, closing the door to the bay and facing his father.

"You're going to tell me off for compromising the cave, and potentially our identities," he says immediately, "and that's fair. However, I informed Red Robin ahead of time so he could hide any documentation, and the Batmobile took a scrambled route here, so they have no way of being able to track the location of the cave once they leave it. They know nothing, and they've seen nothing that can implicate any of us."

"That's not what I'm concerned about," Bruce says. "I'm wondering why you've brought them to begin with. The victims we help in the field don't come back to the cave, ever. That's the part of the protocol I need to know why you broke."

"They're a metahuman, father," Damian says, "and all of Gotham knows your rule. Where else was I supposed to bring a wounded trafficking victim if a human hospital would've turned them away the second they spotted huge wings and golden blood?"

"To the metahuman outpost on the edge of the city limits—"

"— which was being scouted and surrounded by Luthor's henchmen at the time of retrieval."

Bruce purses his lips. "You could have radioed a Leaguer to take them somewhere else."

"It's three-thirty in the morning. Half of them are asleep and won't wake up for a non-emergency summons, and the rest are either off-world, can't get here for immediate extraction, or they're busy protecting their own sectors." Damian crosses his arms and scowls at his dad. "I'm not one of your brainless coworkers incapable of any critical thought. I'm your Robin, and I know what I'm doing. This was the safest and most logical action to take for now."

Bruce sighs. He rests a palm on his hip and nods begrudgingly.

"I understand your reasoning," he says. "In the future, I'm going to update our metahuman contingencies to account for lack of recovery points. For now, you're in charge of keeping an eye on them until morning. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"Good." Bruce turns away and heads for a different section of the cave. "I'll contact Superman and try to coordinate a retrieval. If he's indisposed, someone will take your place and keep watch until we can safely get them to the outpost."

Damian doesn't reply. He watches him disappear down the corridor, then reenters the medbay to find you missing from your chair.

"...hello?" He frowns, glancing around. There's only one way in and out of there, so he's not sure how you vanished. "Are you hiding?"

"No," you say. Damian looks up to find you perched on the edge of the fluorescent lighting. He has to squint to see you properly.

Your wings are out, flexing and adjusting to help you keep your balance on the light fixture. You look down at Damian with a small smile.

"I can hear many winged creatures in the adjacent rooms. There are none in here, though. I looked."

"Bats," Damian clarifies for you. "They're not allowed in this section because it has to stay well-sanitized. Bats have a tendency to carry disease."

"Is that why the bat-man could not speak with you in here?" You ask. Damian almost snorts.

"No, he's a human. He just dresses like...it's...it makes sense," Damian says, somehow embarrassed by your innocent curiosity. "His moniker is Batman. He's not a real bat. Just like my moniker is Robin, but I'm not a real bird."

You tip your body over until you fall from the light. Damian instinctively extends his arms to catch you, alarmed, but your wings flare out to their full length and help you coast gently to the floor again.

"May I go see them?" You ask. "The real bats?"

"If you promise not to touch them, yes."

You pout, bottom lip jutting out slightly, but don't argue. Damian automatically thinks back on how plush your lips felt against his and looks away.

"Do you have any other injuries that need treated before we leave this room?" He asks.

"I do not," you reply, reaching for the buttons on the front of your robe, popping them open one by one. "If you must examine me..."

Damian physically turns his whole body away from you, wishing his domino mask covered more than just his eyes so he could hide the redness of his cheeks. "No I don't! That's fine, you can keep your clothes on!"

You tilt your head, but don't ask about his flustered behavior. Instead, you reach past him for the door and turn the knob, stepping into the corridor.

"Don't leave the cave," Damian says, walking after you. "It's imperative that you stay here. You're not a prisoner, but this is the safest move for you right now."

"I will not leave," you promise. You look upward as you go, scanning for signs of any bats hanging out on the ceiling. When you find a cluster of them, you spread your wings again.

Hesitating, you glance at Damian over your shoulder.

"Project Angel," you tell him. "That is what they called me, in the laboratory. It's not my real name. You may use the... moniker of Angel."

Damian watches you push off of the ground, soaring into the air with a dizzying speed to admire the animals up above.

"Angel," he whispers, watching your graceful movements with unabashed awe. "Fitting."

[andhumanslovedstories]

Something I've been thinking about in regards to the difficulty of writing about my job in the healthcare profession is that there's very different conversations happening at the same time. The first is that this is a job that gives us a lot of power over vulnerable people that is easy to abuse and easier to be passive about. The second is that people will never not bitch about their jobs.

What if a customer service job was high-stakes? That's nursing. It's not the only part of nursing, but cmon, anyone who has worked a public-facing job knows how some people can be. Hospitals are full of people having the worst days of their lives while also being tired, hungry, lonely, and bored.

Plus, it's not just the general population you're dealing with. Hospitals have a disproportionate amount of very difficult people. To draw some examples from my own direct experience: the dementia patient had become too violent to stay at home (unfortunately common), infected chronic wound guy who is so racist that his facility will not take him back, confused patient who screams unceasingly 24 hours a day until she passes out, sexually inappropriate guy who needs two caregivers at all time, another racist patient but this time they're also sexist, banned from multiple shelters for assaulting the staff, etc. Or what might be the most common: person who is too sick to go home alone but no one they know will agree to take care of them. Like, have any of you cut off horrible relatives or abusive partners? People who were in whatever way unacceptable to be around? Would you like to take care of them? And you KNOW they're also not doing any of the stuff that would help them heal so it seems like they will never leave.

I think the gap between healthcare as a Duty versus as a Job contributes to hostile conversations. When you're complaining about your Job ("that moment when you let a call light ring for a while in the hopes someone else answers this time because that patient is annoying as hell"), it's frustrating to get a response that solely looks at the situation through the lens of a Duty ("all patients deserve the same level of care and shouldn’t be ignored.") And it's also frustrating to have these legitimate criticisms ignored or disputed because people are like "it's not that serious, calm down, let nurses vent." And it’s also frustrating to feel so intensely monitored in your free time because of your job. And it’s also frustrating to see people in their free time display qualities that seem like they would have big, negative impacts on their job.

Thinking on this topic, I keep coming back to this one memory. There was a time when I responded to a Code Blue (cardiac arrest, guy’s heart has fully stopped) and was the fifteenth or so person to arrive. The room's full of critical care nurses, I'm not the direct care nurse, the rest of the floor is quiet. So basically, I'm useless to the emergency situation. I ran into a coworker who also responded to the code. I hadn't seen her in a minute, so we caught up. She showed me the new stickers on her water bottle. I don’t remember the exact sticker, but I believe it was a nacho-based pun. It was a pleasant chat.

Meanwhile during this entire conversation, within eyesight of where we are because we’re waiting around to see if we’re needed, people are trying to bring a patient back from the dead. What was happening in that room is life-or-death--to the patient. For me, it was an interlude during a forgettable shift. I only remember that code because the discrepancy between what I was experiencing and what the patient was experiencing was so stark. I don't even remember if the patient survived or not.

None of the patient’s family was there. If they had been, we would have removed ourselves further or not talked so casually. Probably. But if the spouse was there, it would be so insanely insensitive if we tried to include the patient's spouse in our chat about fun stickers. If me and that nurse had been casually in a different hallway chatting, it would be very abrupt for the patient's spouse to walk into our conversation and explain how the patient's death would be so hard on the kids. One of these examples is way more sympathetic and understandable than the other. And I want that spouse to feel comfortable coming up to me and discussing that! That’s part of my job! But also, you can get why that would be a distressing interruption to a moment of downtime.

In both cases, the people in the conversation couldn't be further apart in tone and investment. Neither of us are being bad people. We just should not be talking to each other. And the nature of the Internet and public posting is sometimes talking about my job feels like it's me, my coworker, the spouse, and the revived but severely affected patient in single group chat.

[antimony-medusa]

But what do you MEAN this fic where blorbo gets mind controlled might be kinky?

So I am kind of famous for saying that this fandom has a lot of untagged kinks and I get people in my notes pretty regularly going YES I"M BEGGING YOU TAG IT or YOU"RE DERANGED THIS IS PLATONIC, etc. Lots of strong emotions. But I also get people who are going uh, I knew something was going on, but I couldn't really identify it— what do you mean exactly? What kinks are you seeing?

So, this post is breaking down things I've seen and how in some cases, they start to cross the line into kink territory. These are all things that were being done platonically— no dicks were out, everybody's clothes were on (in most cases, not always with the dehumanization tropes)— but the focus of the narrative started to place special weight on specific features, experiences, or concepts— there were extended paragraphs that served no narrative purpose except to dwell on something— in a way that I started to go "the point of this fic is the squiggly feeling the author or reader gets on reading about this specific setup— this is getting kinky". And that is fine, I am not placing any moral weight on engaging in kinks— people just get wired sometimes to really like the concept of bondage— but a) sometimes it would be nice to get a heads up as a reader, b) if you like these things— there are tags out there that are FULL of this concept, you might like to do it or search it out on purpose.

So I asked some friends what things have they found in platonic fics that they went "ah. yeah. something is happening here", and this post is the result. A lot of these things don't exist in the real world or people don't necessarily want them to happen in the real world/to them, so it's understandable that a person can miss how they'd started to morph and become something new. But when we talk about kink in fiction we're often talking about things that either can't or we don't want to happen in real life, it's just that reading about them/writing them scratches our brain.

And also, to be clear, in no way do I mean that if you've written these concepts then you definitely have been writing kink. There are vanilla ways to do all of these concepts, and sometimes the idea of dehumanization is interesting to you from a narrative standpoint, for example. You can also engage with them in a non-sexual way— many ace people are very kinky— so I'm not saying that you've secretly been writing porn OR writing something you have a real desire to happen to you. Just to make that clear. However, if you keep coming back to a specific setup for writing or reading, it might be worth investigating if certain things scratch your brain in a specific way.

So.

Blorbo gets mind controlled and there's a detailed breakdown of their descent into this altered state and then they're just so biddable and out of it and vulnerable and the narrative places weight either on someone taking advantage of them in this state, taking care of them, or their own subjective experience having lost control: this is hypnokink. Hypnokink or mind control— lots of ways to do it, but there is a thriving hypnosis or hypnokink scene that you might want to look into. Sometimes this is played for horror, but even the horror stuff can be kinky if played in a certain way. This falls under a larger umbrella of "altered states" that is very popular.

Blorbo gets drugged/intoxicated, often against their will, and heavy narrative weight is placed on their experience while drunk/drugged and unable to control themselves or conceptualize what is happening: this is intox kink. Another altered state— and again this is sometimes used for horror, but even the horror can give you the special tinglies if the dread is mixed with something.

Blorbo is turned into a vampire or taken by a vampire, gets drunk from or drinks blood, and there's specific narrative focus on how good the blood tastes, blood from a wound trickling down over someone's body and maybe being licked up, a hunger being sated— so vampires are a longstanding trope that can be done in a strictly horror way, but a LOT of vampire tropes are deeply kinky along the ideas of possession, loss of bodily autonomy, fear/desire, and consumption. This, for example, I have definitely read dipping into bloodplay or consumption kink. Sometimes blood drinking scenes are directly metaphorical for sex, including narrative tension building to a release where someone feels so good, but also there are other elements, such as a focus on blood that gets kinky.

Blorbo has wings that get preened, and it feels so good they can't hold back instinctive movements and sounds (maybe bird sounds) and they're so grateful and bond so much with the person doing it with them— This is wing kink. This is actually the first trope in this fandom that I identified that some things were happening with, because I was reading these fics that had been recommended to me as family fluff going— am I crazy or is something else happening here? Wingfic has been broadly used as a platonic/familial trope in this fandom, however, the structure of the scenes in which it is written about sometimes has heavy crossover with wingfic in other fandoms, where they are using it as a smut trope— the fic just didn't have anyone literally orgasm at the end. But if there's involuntary sounds or movement from the person with the wings, a focus on how pleasurable it feels, a feeling of release or rightness that someone gives the person with wings, and then they cuddle afterwards— yeah.

Blorbo is terrified and chased by a monster of some kind, with a heavy focus on how frightened they are, how inexorable the monster is, and something bad going to happen, and/or the monster chasing them enjoying their terror— this can just be horror. OR it can be fear play or predator/prey. Sometimes it's both.

Blorbo is confronted by monsters (perhaps giants or aliens) who are much bigger than them and the threat of being eaten by them is narratively focused on, either bitten or swallowed whole. Sometimes in the narrative the eating happens, either safely or to their death— this is vore. Being eaten alive is also a horror trope so it isn't always vore, but it is sometimes most certainly vore.

Aliens or monsters/hybrids much bigger than blorbo have them as family/friends/romantic partners/captives: this is giant/tiny. Sometimes just a science fiction au but if there's a lot of weight being placed on how big they are and how small blorbo is, this could be g/t. Borrower aus can frequently start to fall into this category. If they're not THAT big but there's focus on things like "oh they can span my waist with one hand", this can be size kink, instead. (Note that to my knowledge the platonic version is giant/tiny and sexual is micro/macro— there's a thriving platonic scene I sometimes see when I'm cruising tags, so if you like this you might want to check that out.)

Blorbo is non-consensually touched, cuddled, or modified, and narrative focus is placed on this as a violation/outrage/loss of bodily autonomy: again, this is something that can just be a horror trope, but there is often a larger or smaller strain of consent issues in it. If blorbo doesn't want it at first but eventually feels at home in the nest and feels good, that's dubcon (dubious consent), and if they are fighting it and raging against it and will never be part of your family, that starts to overlap with noncon (non-consent). Blorbo's bodily autonomy is being non-consentually violated, which would put it under the consent issues umbrella. I think many people writing these tropes are simply focusing on captivity and bad things happening to blorbo— when one is a prisoner they automatically lose bodily autonomy, and I don't think that every fic set in a dungeon requires a consent issues tag— and additionally many people are writing from family settings that include bodily autonomy being violated (being forced to hug your aunt you don't want to hug, for example, is an example that many of us have experienced). Not every example of non-consensual touching is always consent issues. However, when the narrative focus is on the outrage and betrayal of it all, the loss of control, and/or the helplessness, this can start to serve a different narrative function in a story than simply illustrating that a family is touchy. I have read scenes that structurally function as a thinly-veiled metaphor for sexual assault, including things like blorbo being held down while they fight against what is being done to their body. Some of these could have used additional tagging. Note: because this is such a hot button topic I should mention that if you like writing or reading this I do not think that means you are a fan of violence happening in the real world— a) reading a bad thing happening on the page makes it containable and controllable in a way that the real world does not, people also like to read about murder and dismemberment— b) simply the presence of a happy ending tag on a fic contextualizes that the bad thing is something to be passed through in a way that again, the real world does not offer. This is a similar thing to torture, suicide, or slavery, where sometimes you want to see blorbo have a bad fictional time specifically in things that would be terrible in real life, and in your real life you do not condone police brutality or want these things to happen. Again, sometimes people like to read about people being eaten alive, and it does not mean they condone wolves on the streets.

Blorbo is captured by alien/fae and kept as a pet, sometimes kept in a cage or collared, unable to communicate with the people holding them: this is often tagged as dehumanization and it is that, but it also starts to contain elements of pet play. If there is an emphasis on having to eat pet food, be "trained" by their owner, leashing/collaring/crating— this may be pet play.

Adult or near-adult blorbo is adopted and take care of by a new dad who knows everything to keep them safe and loves them and can take care of them and they can just let go and be their new sonboy because Dad's got them: Right. So this is sometimes just someone writing a "wouldn't it be nice to be taken care of" fantasy. Sometimes this is Daddy kink. This is almost never tagged and in some cases that I have read it certainly deserves an additional tag. An adult Daddy or Mommy figure taking care of their adult Little who can just be taken care of and not worry is a d/s trope. In some cases, where you have an established adult with a job who gets taken by magical means who then finds their true home as a powerful being's new child where they don't have to worry about their former life and they mentally find comfort in their new role as sonboy, this may also be Caregiver/Little. Direct age regression (often written by people who experience it) is usually tagged appropriately, but narrative elements that nod to that while not actually being age regression, such as an adult being now treated as a child and the narrative presenting that as good, are remarkably common and often entirely untagged in certain tags/circles. If someone could look at your fic and expect adult peers and then this happens, you should consider tagging or phrasing your summary differently.

Blorbo has hybrid instincts that overcome their cognitive functioning and make them revert to an instinctive form such that they can only be calmed/soothed by another hybrid of a different type: now this at this point is basically its own trope and I am fascinated to see if this trope expands out of MCYT as people move to new fandoms. However, it shares a startling amount of overlap with omegaverse. One of the primary draws of omegaverse for many people is the biologically determined altered states and the fated-mates aspect, and hybrids reverting to instincts and needing particular care from a perfect family is often beat for beat things I've read in omegaverse, just platonic. When you have a biologically determined "protector" figure and a biologically determined "runt" whose job is to be taken care of and to submit to the protector, and this is required to calm the protector, it also has strong overlap with BDSM aus.

Blorbo is captured or contained and tied up, and narrative emphasis is placed on their experience of being bound and struggling against restraints or just how impossible to escape from the restraints are: this is bondage. I have had friends who are into this mention that they used to tie up their barbies as children, so again, as with all of these, this can be perfectly platonic— but something about that concept just seems particularly satisfying to the writer, perhaps it is more than just set dressing.

Blorbo is captured and there is strong emphasis on them being hurt or the waves of pain rolling over them as they are tortured: this is just an honourable whump trope, but a lot of whump tropes if handled in a specific way have strong crossover with BDSM. Lack of ability to move or restriction of senses, loss of control— or, as with this, an emphasis on pain or inflicting pain, which can cover sadism or masochism depending on our POV.

Blorbo is overwhelmed and only finds comfort in submitting to the authority of someone who they completely trust, whether because of past trauma or because of hybrid instincts: this is d/s, or domination/submission. If there's specific emphasis on allowing someone to take control finally makes blorbo's head go quiet, that's subspace.

Blorbo is marked or indicated as belonging to someone, either through something like an earring or a brand/tattoo or a magical mark, so that anyone who looks at them will know that they belong to someone: again, this can just be horror, but especially if it's framed as a good/satisfying thing, it also can contain strong crossover with BDSM, especially master/slave elements.

Blorbo is transformed and corrupted, often being bodily changed into a new form by aliens or fae or mobs: this is obviously body horror, but this can also be transformation kink. This is a narrative trope in SF and horror so someone can approach this completely innocently, but when handled in less of a horror way, it can take on other undertones. If there is a strong emphasis on the innocence and unprepared nature of blorbo before being changed into what someone wants them to be, this can be corruption kink as well.

Blorbo dresses up for a fancy event and there's emphasis on how specifically they look, or maybe blorbo is looking at someone else and thinking about how THEY look in their formalwear: sometimes this is just description and/or the author likes textiles. I have also read things where I think the author would get a lot of joy out of pursuing the formalwear kink tag.

Blorbo finally gets told that they did a good job and everyone is complimentary or a specific trusted figure is complimentary, they're appreciated and loved and good: sometimes this is just someone writing a fantasy of blorbo being appreciated. Sometimes this is praise kink. If blorbo is being held by their parent or mentor or trusted elder sibling who is telling them that they're good, everyone is wrong about them, they know that they're good, this could be praise kink.

Touch-starved blorbo finally is given good touch and they are overwhelmed and don't know how to handle it and it feels so good: I did even know this was a thing until I asked for examples, but a friend let me know that this falls under the "touch sensitive" or "sensation play" umbrella. If you have spent time in a touch-starved tag, you have almost definitely seen this.

Blorbo is overwhelmed and bursts into tears and either cries a lot or heavy narrative weight is placed on them crying at important moments when it all becomes too much: this is not always, but can certainly be, dacryphilia.

Blorbo fucks up and is made fun of by all their peers, placed on centre stage and just mercilessly mocked: sometimes you are just whumping the character, and sometimes this can be humiliation kink.

Blorbo is tickled. That's the whole scene/fic. Okay so you actually may know this if you cruise character tags, but tickling is a kink and there are several blogs devoted to it on this website. If the whole point of this scene is the tickling, the character losing control and being overwhelmed, the person doing it to them having them at their control— this may be the kink.

Blorbo just keeps sneezing at inopportune times, they keep losing control and can't keep themselves from being overwhelmed by this: this can be sneeze kink.

Blorbo has finally made it to safety, maybe after a time of privation and starvation, and then there's whole scenes with an emphasis on how much they eat, how full and round they're getting, maybe them eating to the point of getting sick, maybe burping, maybe them having difficulty moving because of how much they've eaten. Food as part of recovery or safety can just be a healing trope, and food as a metaphor for love and community is a favoured tag of many of us in the fandom, but if the emphasis is especially on the eating and the getting full, how full the person feels, how much they can eat— this could be feederism.

Blorbo is injured or killed and there's a huge emphasis on the wounds, dismemberment, focus on gore and how bad it is and how much they're coming to pieces: this can be guro. If the person dies at the end of it and there's emphasis on that, this can also be snuff. Or maybe it's just gore/MCD, but some fics and some scenes dwell on it in such a way that you start to ask if this is intended to be horror or if something else is happening.

Blorbo is dressed up beautifully and looks so good in their new outfit, maybe to the point that the person who dressed them doesn't want them to move, just sit and be admired: this can be dollification, or kinking specifically on being dressed.

Blorbo is going through a medical examination and specific focus is placed on the impersonal aspect, being manhandled or examined by tools or gloved hands, they are the somewhat-dehumanized medical subject of professionals: this is sometimes horror or dehumanization, but it can also be medical kink.

Blorbo and blorbo's friend are ride or die beyond reason, they're a crew, they're found family (not biological), there is Two Of Them (or Five Of Them), they have each other's backs to the end. So loyalty is just a great character beat to hit that people have visited since time immemorial. You can also loyalty kink, when a person refusing to abandon their person(s) just hits just right. I'm not saying that everything under the found family umbrella falls under this, cause it doesn't, but if you have a particular attachment to works tagged [blorbo] & [blorbo] are best friends, or Loyalty, or crew as family, or [blorbo group] is a family but exploring nuclear-family aspects of this is not what makes a fic light up neon in your mind, it might might be worth considering if this is something you'd want to add to your list of likes.

Blorbo is really good at their job, and either respected for it and save the day with their skills or underestimated and show everybody by having the perfect skill at the right moment. More people are tangentially aware of this because of the TV show Leverage, which popularized the concept of "competence porn", or "non-sexual examples of scenes of people being very very good at their job but just makes you oooooo nice job", but if part of what draws you to a character is their niche skillset, or you enjoy stories that turn on characters being masters of their skills, competence kink might be something that resonates with you. Note, this sometimes just overlaps with power fantasies, because not everything in the BAMF [blorbo], tag is focused on competence per say, but if you really love your fave character being skillful, (or alternately, fics in which they are rendered powerless or pathetic tend to grate on you), you might want to explore the competence kink tag.

Blorbo is captured or pinned and rendered unable to breathe, and there is focus on pressure building in their chest, only being able to gasp for sips of air, or the person choking them having power over them, and this is presented as a narrative climax of a scene. This is choking kink, or breathplay. Also can be noted when there is particular narrative fascination with a character's hand at or on another's neck, even if pressure is not being applied.

Blorbo enters the narrative as a dude and is turned into a woman or treated as a woman, whether willingly or unwillingly, and finds this to be either a positive or negative experience. So this is sometimes a gender exploration that is deeply personal to the creator. Sometimes this is forcefem, or forced feminization. Sometimes it's both—exploring that tension between different gender paths can be both emotionally fulfilling and kinky for someone, and that's fine. And again, this can be played for horror or euphoria, but both aspects, if treated a certain way, can be kinky. This is related to a whole family of gender play concepts— for example if dude!blorbo is just dressed in traditionally feminine clothing but is not treated as a woman either by characters or the narrative, it could be crossdressing. If blorbo is a woman being turned into a man, it could be forcemasc. I want to emphasize again that breaking down gender lines is often something someone embarks on for their own gender reasons— AND it's a popular trope across many forms of media— so it's not always a kink. But it's useful to point this one out both because if you bring it up outside of circles where it's normalized, it may not be viewed as appropriate, because these are not the bog-standard ways that everyone approaches gender, presentation, identity, societal expectations, etc, and also because if someone out of the blue asks you for this trope, it's good to be aware that they might be, (whether knowingly or unknowingly), asking for fetish content.

__

So. As you can see. There are a lot of possible kinks that can be handled in a platonic way, but this doesn't mean they aren't kinky. This isn't even everything possible, this is just what came up when I asked the group chat what they personally have seen where they feel that a platonic fic could have used additional tagging.

I am not saying that any of this is wrong to be interested in these kinks, either. People get wired a lot of different ways and sometimes you just feel a certain way about formalwear. Or bondage. Or vore. Or tickling. My point is just that if any of this resonates with you, you might want to consider adding extra tags to your work (you don't even have to tag "humiliation kink," "humiliation" works just fine), and you also might want to consider checking out some tags, because there is probably a vibrant community of people who also like that and who would both love your work and would love to share their work with you.

That's it. Go with god. Now if people are going to be in my notes going HOW CAN SOMETHING PLATONIC BE KINKY I have something to link them.

[nastyc2nt]

Hey, I saw you're taking requests so I wanted to know if you could write something with yandere Percy Jackson and fem reader where they're already in a "situationship" or something and reader decides to be a little cheeky and runs away from Percy in random moments when he tries to touch her, without knowing he's really into this shit because it awakes the worst sides of him and he fucks her mercilessly after he catches her?

I don't know if this makes any sense or if you can really make it work, feel free to change anything if think it necessary. Xoxo

(Sorry if I wrote anything wrong, English is not my first language.)

࿐ Playing Games ࿐

╰┈➤ Older!Dark!Yan!Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

✦ ──────── ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ──────── ✦

╰┈➤ Warnings: Yandere, 18!Percy, Demi god college dorms, Chasing, Pray kink?, Teasing, Rough Fucking, Chocking, Biting. Tell me if I missed anything.

╰┈➤ Word count: 1.4k

╰┈➤ First requests! So excited, thank you, hope you love it baby!!

It’s all just a fun game you’d play. Turning away from his kisses or the touch he tries to give you, acting as if nothing happened. Harmless fun.

The whole campus knew how Percy felt about you — the gods themselves couldn’t stop the madness that is his love. And yet you guys weren’t a thing, something he wound change in time but he’s fine with keeping it on the “down low” as you like to call. Be it too kissing in his dorm at night while his hands run down your shirt, feeling your soft skin or ass while you sit nice and pretty on his lap. Or, fucking you in the dead of night not caring if the person next door can hear your moans, his voice or the bed hitting the wall.

Today was the second day you’d been playing that game of yours, and much to his dismay he’s been enjoying it more then he’d care to admit. When he got his hands on your warm figure only for you to turn around and run off, using many excuses to play it off. It was so easy for him to catch on, when you did it the third time on the same day he connected the dots. That cheeky smirk on your lips didn’t help your act either.

So Percy spent no time wondering if you were mad at him or didn't love him. That time was filled with wonders of what he'd do when he gets tired of this little game.

“Come here,” he mumbled when he reached out for you, it was so easy to just grab you from behind and rest his hand on your shoulders. But as soon as he spoke your head ducked while stepping out of his reach. You giggled, eyes looking soft but mischievous. Daring darling you are.

You stepped back slowly, “Catch me if you can, might give you a kiss if you ask nicely.” the next step was to run around to try and avoid him. It was primal instinct for Percy that kicked in when you ran off. You needed him to chase you. Catch you and take what he needed — To fuck the brat out of you and show you that you can play your games, but you’re still a puppet on his strings.

Once his hands wrapped around your frame it was over, for the guy you’ve been seeing was a new beast. One that wasn’t going to show you mercy, you’re it’s pray now and can’t fight back. Percy was rough and his eyes were shot that you swore they changed to black with his dark hair looming over his face.

He tore the clothes off, ripping them open just to show you what he was capable of. His hands pinned you against the wall while the other wrapped around the nice neck he’d been marking for weeks. This was new. Yes you had crazy sex in the past but this was different, he wanted to break you.

“I do love a good chase,” his raspy voice was right next to your ears, “wanted to rile me up just so I would show you who you belong to? Yeah, your pussy is answering when your pathetic mouth can’t.” he grins at your expression. All fucked out, mouth wide open from the moans leaving your lips and eyes rolling back from pleasure. You had given up pushing him away minutes ago so your hands gripped on his shirt to hold onto something.

His cock was going too fast for you to take a breath, he was racing with himself to see just how loud and hard it sounded when your bodies met. It started to hurt your breasts with how much they were moving up and down, and your swollen cunt that was get abused by his cock, and clit that was puffy.

His dark eye’s followed each expression you had, how your brows curled up, a scrunch in your nose. Everything was for him. “Such a slut, you know that? That little game was just so you could be used like rag doll?” You screamed when he bottomed out inside you with one hard thrust, hitting so far within you and stayed there for a minute.

He laughed at you. It was pathetic, the tears running down your cheeks was cute but you’re such a cry baby. “Awe, can take my cock girl? You’ve been begging for it but can’t handle it now?” Percy mocked down at your trembling body.

You whined, lips bringing themselves together, and you looked up at him through the soaked eyelashes. “Please— agh~ please, be more gentle.” it was cute that you think you had any authority to beg him right now.

He leaned back, his cock slipping out of you quickly but not as quick as he flipped you around against the wall and wrapped one hand around the front of your torso. “Gentle? We both know that’s not what you want,” his hand rushed down to send a sharp slapping pain to your ass, making you jump in surprise and pain. “you’ve cum about three times now.”

Percy slipped back in and began at the same speed he was before, his balls slapping against your ass, making the cheeks more red as he thrushed against them. You sobbed, going back to pleasure bliss, overestimated once again by his long cock.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned and kissed your neck.

You shook your head violently as his fingers reached down to play with your swollen clit and rubbed you nice and fast. “Percy- Don’t, too sensitive,” you cried again. Sloppy sounds came from your hole that was was being fucked, it was so dirty to hear. Your walls clamped down on him from the growing orgasm building up in your stomach and burning in your core.

“Cum for me, let me feel you pulsing on me again. Be a good girl, cum and then let me fill you up,” he whined finally softer into your neck, his head rested in the crook of your neck. His rhythm started to get messy but never slowed down once— It got rougher. A few seconds later your body gave one last electric shock throughout itself and you released everything you had onto his cock. Your stomach twitched up and down, your pussy tighten as the sticky cum foamed at the base of his cock.

It was now that you had begun to actually sob— Just from being exhausted and overwhelmed. You grip the walls for support and press against it hard to keep yourself up but Percy help with you limp body. “That’s my good girl, thank you baby. Gonna fill you up now,” his voice was back to its soft and gentle tone.

Three thrust, in and out, was all it took before he unload himself into you and pushed it all the way inside you. Filling you up so much it hit your womb and he wondered how to make it stay there afterwards. He panted while you did the same, a few big breaths before hitting your head on the wall to relax.

Percy groaned and stayed inside you, his hands now trailing back up to your waist where bruises formed from his grip on you. “Did so good for me,” he whispered. You hummed and didn’t dare move or anything, probably would fall if you tried to do anything.

“I’ve been trying to stay calm around you for weeks, acting as if we aren’t actually a thing,” he rubbed the painful redness of your ass, his lips kissing your shoulders in affection. “But you’re mine, always have been and always will be. This— This just proves you’re ready to be completely mine.”

His teeth sink into your skin, not as rough as it could have been but it was surprising and painful nonetheless, “I’ll kill for you, make you happy any anyway you want. But you’re never leaving my side, or I’ll just have to put you in your place again.”

He slipped out, his cum and yours mixed while trailing down your thighs, “Just gotta fuck it into your pretty little head, but you don’t mind— Do you baby?”

There was no getting away even if you wanted to. The ends of the earth aren’t even safe from him, no god could save you now. Willing or forced, you’re his girl.

¡!Don’t repost my posts on other websites, don’t translate them, theses are for me to publish on my own!!

[d3stinyist1red]

GIRLIE, YANDERE OLDER MAFIA BOSS!!(TAKE YOUR TIME IF YOU HAVE OTHER REQUESTSSSS!!💗)

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ʙᴏss x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

yan mafia boss who you work under, with him being your boss and your his right hand woman

yan mafia boss who treats you like you own him, following with whatever you say

yan mafia boss who doesnt like any medics touching him, wanting you to be one treating him

The medic was standing in front of him, clearly fearful for her life bc the man in front of her could kill her if she did the slight mistake. She tried to pat and help the wounds of the Mafia boss who smacked her hand away and huffed.

"Bring me my n/n, now." He said glaring at her as she quickly nodded, basically running to you. She told you about how he refused to let her help and touch him as you sighed. You rubbed your temple before nodding and smiling at her.

"Don't worry, Ill deal with him." You said politely, nodding at her before walking past her, going to the room where he was at. You opened the door and you saw the way his eyes lit up, and a grin landed on his usually nonchalant face. "Love!" He said, as you walked up to him.

"Why are always acting so stubborn to the medics? You know that they're there to help you, idiot." You said clearly irritated, making him pout and tilt his head. "But, I want you to help me!!...and have your hands all over my body..." He whined, grabbing your hand and resting it on his cheek, looking up at you with hearts in his eyes.

yan mafia boss who has to always be in constant contact with you

ʏ/ɴsᴅ𝟷ᴅɪᴄᴋʀɪᴅᴇʀ!

n/nnn

where are uuuuu

n/nnnnn

n/nnnn

...?

...

...

no reply?

Have other hoes?

YOU DO DONT YOU?!!!?!?!!?

i hate u.

You getting blocked.

dont talk to me. I know you hate me.

Okay, im going to kill my self.

...?

....

...

This is (yans name, yall could make sum up) cat, he just shot himself

do you love him

...

...?

baby you know that was all a prank

i love u

pls let me eat ur ass

i wanna slurp ur kitty so good that the only thing i could taste is u mami

(seen 1 min ago)

ʏ/ɴsᴅ𝟷ᴅɪᴄᴋʀɪᴅᴇʀ!

ur rlly gonna leave me on seen?

ur lucky i dont come and cream all over ur face rn

pls touch me

yan mafia boss who has his bodyguards protect you no matter where you go

"Okat sigma 1, hawk tuah, ohio go protect n/n, you better fucking protect her with your life, ya hear?!" He said to his bodygaurds aggressively, scowling them down as they shook in fear,....i think one of them peed their pants...erm!

yan mafia boss who is madly jealous, putting a bullet into anyone's head he sees as threat for your love.

yan mafia boss who when you arent around, he struggles to sleep. He tosses and turns, his mind racing with scenarios about what they might be doing or who they’re with. "is she with that ugly bitch from work again?! Is she with one of my bodyguards?! Is she cheating on me?!" He hiccuped through his sobs, biting on his nails, hair all messy from tossing and turning throughout his sleep

He often wakes up in a cold sweat, feeling empty without them next to him. If you spends the night somewhere else, he'll start spamming you on everything even roblox.. If you dont answer within 5 mins, he immediately sends his men to try to find you, and paces around his house, restless waiting for your reply. bruh u were js buying sum takis...

yan mafia boss who is your boss who favors you a little too much!!! <333

IM PROB GONNA UPDATE SOME MORE ON TUMBLR BUT IM STILL ON BREAK ON WATTPAD CUZ I LOST MY GOD DAMN PHONEEE

SORRY IF THIS IS SHORT I DIDNT RLLY KNOW WHAT TO DO FOR MAFIA BOSS YAN

[luveline]

I love bombshell reader. Would she ever get jealous?

Your eye is most definitely twitching. The pull and cinch of your lashes and the delicate skin of your eyelid distracts you mildly from the sight in front of you, but not for long. 

You rub at your eye with a perfectly filed nail, smudging intricate makeup all over the place. You remember your mascara only after you've mussed it and groan in annoyance. "Fucking fuck," you murmur, slipping a hand into your jacket pocket. 

"You okay?" Emily asks. 

Using your phone screen as a substandard mirror, you clean up the smudge you'd made of your make up with your pinky finger carefully. "I'm great," you say breezily. 

"You sure? You sound stressed." 

"She's jealous," Morgan says. Smugness lines his face and the otherwise handsome set of his mouth. 

You roll your eyes at him, to his bemusement, and sit back in your cold, leather-backed chair. "Sure, Morgan, I'm very jealous. Of what?" 

"Of our baby boy's new friend, obviously," he says. 

You don't give him the satisfaction of looking back at Spencer where he stands at the bar, nor do you let the practised smile you're wearing falter. Your guts an aching wound and your skin flushed with heat, you reach for the cherry coasting along the surface of your drink and pull it out by the stem, twisting it between your fingers. Unbothered on the outside, and an insecure, hurt mess on the inside. 

It really looked like Spencer was flirting with her. 

You chew your cherry for much longer than you need to for want of something to do, hot tears begging to well behind your eyes. Spencer isn't your boyfriend, you've held hands a couple times and that's that. He's allowed to want someone else. Someone prettier, smaller, she'd had a head of perfect braids and a dewy, do eyed smile. Cherry swallowed, you knock back your drink. 

"Sorry," Spencer starts, sliding into the booth next to you with another cherry sour for you and what looks like an ice cold glass of coke for himself.

You hadn't asked him for a drink and he hadn't mentioned getting you one. For a moment, the ugly weight of envy lifts from your shoulders. "Oh, thank you." 

"I just met this girl at the bar and she had something very interesting to ask me," Spencer says. 

You don't want to hear it. Morgan absolutely does, and with Emily to encourage him, they're happy happy torture you both. "Why's Penelope taking so long?" you ask, trying to change the subject too late. 

"What did she want, loverboy?" Morgan asks.

"Did you think she was pretty?" Spencer asks you.

Mortified, you stare at him. Plainly hurt, to his surprise, you clasp your hands together tightly in your lap. "Why would you ask me that?" 

"Because she wants to ask you out?" Spencer's knee bumps yours. "She thinks you're, quote, intimidatingly pretty." 

Emily and Morgan laugh together gleefully. You're glad this is entertaining for them, but mostly you're relieved. You pick up your drink and take a sip, looking over Spencer's shoulder into the bar for the girl he'd been speaking with. She smiles shyly. 

"I'm assuming this is from her?" 

"What? No, that's from me." 

Your gaze flickers back to him. "Really?" 

"That's my boy," Morgan jokes, swinging his arm behind Emily's seat. She laughs approvingly. 

Firmly back on stable footing, you give Spencer your stickiest grin, looking over his pretty face greedily. He's looking at your drinks rather than you but his torso is turned your way, the backs of his fingers brushing your stocking clad thigh. "Maybe I should go let her down gently?" you murmur, shifting in your seat to turn his way too, flirting with the idea of touching his cheek. 

"You might not need to," he says. 

"How come?" you ask. 

"Well, I… I sort of implied you were taken. You know. With the drink. And I also might've said you weren't interested." 

"Yeah?" You put your hand on his shoulder, tracing a whisper of a path up the slope of it to the base of his throat. "Well, it's a good thing I'm not." 

Emily shakes the small bowl of roasted peanuts, a deviousness about her as she says, "Good for all of us. I've never seen Y/N that jealous before. For once, I thought we'd have to protect her from you." 

You could kill her. Flustered, you tilt your head to one side and look out over nothing, mumbling, "I wouldn't say I was that jealous." 

"No?" Spencer asks. "I can go tell her you've changed your mind." 

"Don't push your luck, Reid." 

[astrologylunadream]

Are They Attracted To You?💋🌺🌹 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hi it's Lunadream❤️ This is an honest reading for whether or not that person on your mind has romantic attraction towards you! hope you find your message💌✨️

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~❤️‍🔥

Pile 1🩷

Pile 2💋

Pile 3🌺

Pile 4🌹

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> ❤️

Pile 1🩷

Sign energy: Facial expression, Body, Art, Right, Demand, 5th house, Taurus, Aries, 2nd house, 9th house,📞🤪🏜🙅‍♂️

🎀Your person's energy: Okay hi so this person is quite smart, they might often be right about things or they always want to be right. They could have sort of a dominant way about them, like they want to be heard.🗣☝️ There is prominent aries or 1st house placements here, also Taurus. Sagittarius, Leo, actually all fire signs wow so this person has a straightforward or directness to them. One of the first things that came up is their body is a work of art lol😂😭 Seriously they might have the build of a greek statue for some, they could be phsyically fit or in shape I'm hearing "sculpted"🦵💪👀 That could mean someone who is creative or into making things too take what resonates.🪄 I feel like this person could make some really funny faces, like they could have very animated facial expressions.😜 Your person may trive on having attention on them, or they just get it without trying. Their voice is attractive, also they can be interested in many exotic genres of music.🎧🎼 For some of you this person is from a hot climate, or they are just hot themselves😉 They are sensual and headstrong, this could be someone from a long distance but I only see that for a few of you. They are exciting and want to enjoy many hobbies, there is a thirst for adventure in them.🪂🌋 They could love food especially from different cultures, they are expressive in their body langauge aswell😅🔥 This person might appear wild or reckless. Possibly a bit demanding sometimes or even selfish it depends on the person, but I think they are a youthful spirit.

🌺Are They Attracted To You: Dating, Warrior, Reconnect, Passion, Finger, Leo, Pisces, Moon, Neptune, Chiron,🔊🥺💁‍♂️🪃

Okay there is a lot of passion here, for some of you this person wants to date you!🫵❤️‍🔥 Like they are energetically pointing at you like "pile 1 date me now😤" lmao. They have a desire to reconnect with you emotionally and heal you with this passion and devotion I'm hearing, but I think your judgement is needed here because the situation is iffy.🤨🔍 Although there is a lot of attraction from this person, it could be more like infatuation for them. This person feels restless and easily bored, I do see that this person would get an ego boost from dating you.🔝🏆 They are very vocal about their attraction to you my pile 1's, but they're wearing rose colored lenses a bit when it comes to you. This person fantasizes about you, and they want to win your heart.🫢❤️‍🔥 It's like they are in a gauntlet of war competing with your potential suitors in the spiritual realm lol😂⚔️ Be careful though as this person's attraction may be unstable or flighty, the spark they feel may ignite but also burn out fast. They could lose interest easily in relationships I'm hearing, it's hard for them to keep focus. I think they have a soft spot for you though, they want to prove themselves to you.🎁✨️ This attraction to you feels more loyal and devoted than they usually are. They want to reach out to you, for some of you this person wants to apologize for something or heal any emotional wounds you have.🫂💞 This person's attraction to you is more on a spiritual and emotional level than phsyical but I'm seeing that too, they feel attached to you most energetically.🔗💭 They are attracted to you because of the psychic bond you two share, your soul is so precious to them and they don't want to see you suffer. Wow I think this person is very emotional over you, there is a mixture of passion and love for this pile.🌹🩷 For some of you this person is having dreams of you, their subconcious is very attracted towards you. I think this person is healing, maybe that is why their energy was so chaotic at first. You may be keeping them in tune with their more caring or nurturing self.

💌Messages from your person: I still love you, It's the start of something new, You're pretty, Nothing else matters, I can't believe you would choose me, You read my mind, I stay asleep dreaming of you, It feels so good. 🐇🛑🍪🕯(Wow yes they dream of you pile 1 and they fantastize of you, definitely a psychic connection here!❤️🥹)

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🌺💋

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the pink heart emoji~🩷 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🥰

Pile 2💋

Sign energy: Back off, Lesson, Glow up, Top, Force, Air, Neptune, Jupiter, 6th house, Pisces,♂️💦🍒🍭

🎀Your person's energy: Wow this person does not like us channeling their energy right now lol😅 Their vibe seems confused and very resistant, they could be very busy or unavailable right now.✋️😠 I feel like this person has a defensive energy towards my pile 2's, they try to be realistic I'm hearing. For some of you this person is masculine or dominant, they could even be phsyically bigger for some of my pile 2's🫢 Air sign energy, Pisces, Sagittarius, Virgo, those could be in their chart. Maybe Neptune in pisces or in the air signs for some, jupiter in 6th house is possible, also pisces mars or neptune-mars aspects. these are all mutable signs actually. This is someone you can learn a lot from, or you will learn valuable lessons from your connection with them.💡 This person is so resistant you guys like they are in this energy of pushing you away?? It feels like they are being way too hard on themselves as well as you.💔 This person is very cautious and intelligent, they may not believe in fairytales or misleading fantasies. Honestly for some in this pile it seems as if they think you are getting your hopes up with them, that could definitely be the case for many of you. They might feel like they are more mature or responsible in some way, they seem to be very strict or judgemental towards you.🤨 I mean, this person is very forceful in their intentions and I think they don't want you to get hurt or have your dreams crushed.💭🚫 There is an absence from this person, they could be distancing themselves from you or there is some lack of engagement physically. I mean this person is very attractive and their chest is very noticeable, some of my pile 2's may be unrealistic about this person.😓 Their energy is currently very tense, they have a lot of discipline I'm hearing. They are forceful and driven. Behind their functional facade they are quite emotionally challenged, but they try to hide their feelings or control them.❤️‍🩹

🌺Are They Attracted To You: Libra, Force, Society, Honey, Frozen, 11th house, Pluto, Moon, Leo, Pisces,📚🧲🎠🧐

Ah so this is interesting pile 2! Force came out twice in this reading and with pluto I think there is a magnetic pull towards you here actually.😳😍 I'm surprised by their initial energy but it seems like they are stuck fighting their emotions, their attraction towards you may go against their own societal expectations or they are worried about their image😱👤✨️ They have a lot of pressure on them, so I think their energy is quite intense towards you. You make them emotional and this confuses them, they feel unable to take any action I'm hearing. It's like this person is frozen with indecision about my pile 2's🧊❄️ They could be weighing their options right now, for some of you this person is also faking their confidence in front of you. They are hiding their feelings, but they feel a a psychic pull towards you pile 2!!💭✨️ They might be searching for information especially online in order to identify these emotions omg.😨 They may have an strange thirst for knowledge about you that they can't explain, they are deeply curious about you without even realizing it. For some this could even mean possible obsession, they can't seem to figure you out so I think that morphs into a type of attraction for them.🧠🖤 This is quite the plot twist. They may not be aware of their interest in you, but there is a strange attachment to you. For some of you they may even be silently learning more about you through social media or any way they can. It is possible this person is definitely not aware of their attraction to you and they may not even feel it at first, but it is subconcious.😳💭 Either they are putting on an act about how they feel or for others in this pile they haven't realized they feel an attraction to you, but this secret is yet to be revealed for them my pile 2's❤️‍🔥

💌Messages from your person: My future is with you, You have so much to say, I have no boundaries with you, You're so delicate, You are, It's all fake, Can I hold you? I'm trying to find myself.🎎🤩🚨🙃 (Okay pile 2 so this person admits to it they have been putting on an act, they have been hiding their true energy towards you relentlessly but they just can't hold back from you. They are lost and trying to figure things out, my pile 2's this person wants to hold you.😫❤️)

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🌺💋

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the kiss emoji~💋 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🥰

Pile 3🌺

Sign energy: Vision, Star, Try, Control freak, Meaning, Gemini, Virgo, 3rd house, Vertex, Earth,😇🕷🍪🤙

🎀Your person's energy: Exciting! This person feels witty and analytical, they may be a fast thinker or use their head a lot.🧠💭 They can be focused and may be good at communicating, also a very angelic personality🥰✨️ They try to be helpful and have meaningful conversations with others, but they can also be very controlling for some. They are skilled with their hands, and they may be very good at many things including speaking.🗣👑 They could be Earth sign, Gemini, Virgo, or Mercury dominant. 3rd house placements, also virgo in 3rd house for some. This person may talk or think excessively.🤯 For some this person is very social and may have many friends or converse with lots of people often. They do well at may at school or work, they have a professional/well put together vibe about them. They want to be a fast and efficient person.🔨✨️ They are talented and there is a star quality about them in their expertise. May be very thorough and detailed. They could have a good reputation or people see them as bright example.⭐️ They may be a rolemodel of some sort or you look up to them. This person possibly struggles with overthinking or anxiety, they often have their mind on many different things.👀 They are mindful and think things through. Try to appear cool in most conversations😎 Very clever and sweet I'm hearing, they might freak out about some stuff sometimes. Like for some of you this person could be afraid of spiders or like not completing an assignment lol things like that😂

🌺Are They Attracted To You: At last, Responsibility, Ladder, Masculine, Accessory, Aries, 7th house, Sagittarius, South node, Eros,🐓♈️🌫🪂

Okay so there is a lot of passion in this pile, they see you as something hot and untamable! There is heavy aries influence here, some of you may be aries🤭 This person is normally level headed and responsible but you bring out this wild side to them😳🔥 There is a lot of attraction to you my pile 3's, honestly you really turn them on😭 This person may feel tempted by you, or you challenge them in some way. You make them want to act tougher or more dominant with you, you bring out a reckless version of this person, it's like a hidden monster that has been waiting to be unleashed.👿⛓️ Mhm this person is wild about you honestly, their feelings are loud and clear here. They are attracted to your free spirit, they want to take risks with you.🪂🔥🚀 Something about you is foreign to them, almost forbidden. If you're in the room with them, the air feels thicker. They have such a passionate fiery energy towards you, but this attraction is also an interest in a commitment with you. They may desire a long term relationship instead of a fleeting romance. This person feels like you complete them, and they may be very attracted to you as their romantic counterpart take what resonates of course.💍💖 They feel an obligation towards you, like they have to be strong or reliable for you. You excite this person, there is a spark they see in you.🔥😫 They might feel like you are dangerous for them though, and there could be lots of physical tension between you two. They try to keep composed, like they are fighting their demons.🥊 You make them feel empowered and full of passion and drive. They may especially view you as phsyically attractive or their ideal type. I'm hearing you cloud their judgement and you could even make them lose their inhibitions.❤️‍🔥 So much attraction!

💌Messages from your person: I know it's hard, I love the shape of your lips, The pain will go away, You're a genius, Don't just stand there, So what? You're too kind, Of course you won't. 🆚️✍️😡🤐 (Ohh pile 3 this person is hot and bothered, they think you're really sweet and smart and they know you won't just let it go to waste🥰 This is a mix of tension and appreciation from this person, wow I think they want to compete for you🥺)

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!💋

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the hibiscus emoji~🌺 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🥰

Pile 4🌹

Sign energy: Beloved, Model, Leo, Blush, Make out, 12th house, Air, Pluto, 11th house, Mercury,⛓️🥀💆‍♀️⛪️

🎀Your person's energy: So.. some of you wanna make out with this person right now😂 lmao just kidding but yes there is a lot of attraction to this person haha. Some of my pile 4's really love this person, they make your day. They could be a model or they have that kind of allure to them, they just earn effortless attention and obsession lol.💫 You may dream of them, even fantasize of them. You feel spiritually connected to them, and of course it is very apparent in the energy that you are interested in them through tarot/astrology. Some of you met this person online or they don't know your identity, only some. This person could be famous or people's heads just turn to them.👤✨️ Could be actor or creator for some, they are talented in something. Some of you are not with this person right now, there could be phsyical distance and lack of communication for you two.📵 They could be an Air sign, Leo, Pisces, Scorpio, Aquarius, Gemini, Mercury in 12th house, Pluto in Leo or Pluto in 11th house, Mercury in 11th house for some. I'm hearing this person is a religion lol what, they could have a lot of secret admirers like for some in this pile take what resonates lol. They could be religious, also for some they have a following on social media or an influencer.🤳 Hey they are pretty attractive I could see why, this person might make you blush.🤭💗 You may be too shy to talk to them or you just can't for some reason, they are quite captivating and glamorous.💋✨️ May attract lots of jealousy because of their radiant energy and confidence. You admire their unique qualities, they are super special. Their presence is intense and magnetic, maybe even serious for some in this pile. Strange things about them make you giggle and smile, I'm hearing they have a hold on you. You might feel like they're your soulmate, but there is an air of mystery to them. This person is so hot, some of you may fantastize being touched by them and you may not even know them that well, it feels like your heart is captured by them, maybe even a little addicted for some.🫢🩷

🌺Are They Attracted To You: Baby, Wedding, Performance, Spring, Ex lover, Taurus, 2nd house, Vertex, Aries, Leo,🕊❤️‍🔥🔑⛲️

Hm interesting, so this is giving a lot more info actually. Wedding came out my pile 4's😏💕 This person finds you naturally attractive and full of charm!😍💋 They have a playful interest in you, also very passionate and sweet. They think you're pretty, aesthetically pleasing to them in many different senses.✨️ For some in this pile this is an ex that wants you back, like the classic "come back to me baby" stereotype lmao I can hear that for some of you😅💌 they are still burning with passion for you. This could be a flame that just started for others in this pile, your connection with this person is meaningful and possibly a key aspect of your life. That is especially true because this person may want to marry you and that could actually work for them!💍💗 They have a lot of charm and attraction to you, also with the dove emoji they might definitely plan to confess or get the message across to you. They want your attention fast, they might even put on a show for it.😂 They are dramatic about you. Like for some of you this person is trying to be flashy to get your interest, they might be dressing nicer or flirting a lot. You make this person feel very flirty omg, with this mix of energy it feels like sweet talking.🗣🍬🩷 Like they feel so attracted to your warm kindness, they find you to be irresistible. They love your personal feminine qualities you whether it's like making things nicer or shopping, even your voice🥰 Some of you may be born in spring, also there are definitely some Taurus in this pile! This person is attracted to your earthly beauty, even if you don't feel pretty they see you as a goddess.🪞 This energy is very persuasive I think this person is so captivated by your aura and presence.💖 Their attraction to you is a grand, passionate and devoted kind, you are like wood they need to ignite their flames.🔥 They feel like they can trust and rely on you, they're attracted to how stable and beautiful you are pile 4! There is a lot of desire here, they want to be seen by you. Also they want to give you their attention, they're such a charmer😩❤️‍🔥

💌Messages from your person: I need you in this lifetime, Pretend you don't know me, I love the shape of your lips, Why not? Let's break up, They're jealous of me, I believe you, Focus on yourself.🧤🔮🤴🫰 (Wow of course they are quite dramatic lol. They are very attracted to you, this person may be unable to be with you right now. Some of you are dating this person or they want a relationship with you but others are jealous😳 People may want their hands on you/them, or for others it could be timing or situation that is coming between you both. This person believes in you though, I mean they believe in the divine connection you have but they want you to focus on yourself right now. There is so much love for you and they don't want you to get dragged into all the drama, they wanna be with you now but they want you to prioritize your self care and wellbeing most importantly.😩💗)

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🌺💋

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the red rose emoji~🌹 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🥰

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3