#this is to say. when i was a kid i was very lonely and very isolated and very disconnected from my own emotions. i knew people didnt like

[earthtooz]

x : HAPPY ACCIDENT :*+ﾟ

in which: you let phainon know the consequences of when he doesn't give you any attention.

warnings: 1.2k wc, fluff, phainon is very golden retriever coded in this and of course very down bad, gn!reader, mydei appears, i already said this but like i said, HE IS DOWN BAD.

a/n: the p in phainon stands for puppy or pathetic, or maybe both. btw i haven't played the story quest thumbs up.

You should feel bad about unintentionally conditioning Phainon like an obedient dog- you just didn’t expect him to take it so seriously!

The incident happened less than a week ago, when you walked into the courtyard in search of the Chrysos Heir, and he was exactly where you expected. The resounding, piercing sound of blades colliding was the first tell that the man you wanted to find was indeed there, and the second was when you rounded the corner to find him shirtless and shining with sweat under the gentle sunlight. He had been there for hours already, and as much as you admire his dedication and diligence, you also wonder if he’s been training a little too hard recently, dedicating substantial hours of the day into refining his skills. 

It’s been making you feel lonely. 

The last time you saw him was before noon, and it's been hours since then! You can only entertain yourself by working and reading and managing affairs for so long.

He spots you in his periphery and waves enthusiastically, a gesture you return with a calmer one before you find a marble bench under the shade to sit on. Even if it’s Phainon’s undivided attention you want, watching him spar is still far more exciting than whatever document that sits unread on your desk. 

Half an hour later, Phainon dismisses the soldier he was sparing with, the two of them chattering briefly before the snow-haired approaches you, his muscles flexing with every step he took. 

“Hey, you,” you greet with a smile before standing up, raising your arms over your head to stretch.

“I missed you,” he murmurs before intertwining his arms around your torso, allowing your arms to fall around his neck comfortably. 

“You should bathe,” you say before parting, his skin still hot and sticky with sweat. 

“Do I smell?” 

“Awfully.” 

He frowns at you. “That’s not very nice.” 

“I’m only kidding,” you giggle, “you smell like a bed of fresh roses, just extremely sweaty and… testosterone-filled.” 

“I shall go wash soon, then. Care to join me?” 

“Do you invite everyone to bathe with you, Phainon?” 

“Only the ones I really like, so, please?” He’s pleading at you with those eyes of his, so bright, so innocent, so hard to say no to. 

Well, normally you have a hard time saying no, especially to an offer as tempting as bathing with your lover, but you remember your petty feelings of how he paid more attention to his claymore today, rather than you, so you decide to give him a piece of your mind. It’s what he deserves. 

You hum in exaggerated consideration, even scrunching your nose to make it seem like you were thinking hard, keeping him on his toes. 

“Pretty please?” The hero insists, anticipation shining in those bright orbs. 

“Depends on how well you behave,” you negotiate. “Now, sit down and change your shoes, I’ll get your clothes.” 

He pouts at you, signalling his dissatisfaction. “Alright.” 

You leave to pick up his outerwear from where he discarded it in the courtyard, probably thrown aside when it got too stuffy. Returning to him, the pout is still as present, and he seems to refuse to make eye contact with you, trying to get you to crack.

So, you drop the pile of clothes beside him and counter with a game of your own.

Standing between his legs, both of your hands go to rest on his cheeks, the skin warm and flushed underneath yours. Gently tilting Phainon’s head up, you think you hear his breath hitch as he obeys, looking up at you with those glossy eyes. Gone was the petulance, back was the puppy-dog expression as he stares at you with wonder, and you’re 90% sure that if he had a tail, it’d be vigorously swishing behind him.

He just might be the most simple man you know. Telling him that would only displease him, though, primarily because he doesn’t like it when you talk about other men. 

You giggle softly at the thought as you gently brush stray strands of hair away from his face. 

“I only accompany men who are good to me to the bathhouse,” you muse.

“I’m amazing to you- the best,” he flaunts. “Right?” 

Instead of responding, you slowly lean closer towards him, minimising the gap between your faces. First, you close your eyes when your nose brushes against his, and you keep going until your lips are so painstakingly close that you can feel his graze yours, skin ghosting against skin as you lure him in. Then, just before you can give him what he wants, you draw back, leaving Phainon to chase after a piece of a paradise you won’t grant. 

When he realises that the anticipated kiss wasn’t coming, his eyes slowly blink open. 

��Good boys don’t let their partner feel neglected by training for hours and hours,” you mumble, brushing his hair back before deserting him completely, letting your hands fall back to your sides before cruelly walking away. “You need to learn your lesson, Phainon.”

Still in a daze, he only just registers what you were doing before shooting to his feet. “Hey!” 

Leaving his precious claymore and clothes behind, he chases after your retreating figure.

Effortlessly, the Chrysos Heir catches up and winds his arms around your waist like a tight coil. “Y/n, darling, my light, I’m sorry, you’re right, I have committed a great dishonour today, I will amend it with my life.” 

Humoured, you turn to face him, a melting pot of determination and desperation swirling in those aquamarine eyes. “Well, you do not need to go that far, Deliverer.” 

“So then… a kiss? Or two? Or three? Please?” 

“How about you kiss that claymore instead? Since you spend so much time with it.” 

He whines in your ear, refusing to let you go when you try to slip away by pushing against his very muscular, very sturdy, and very naked chest. 

You spend a good few minutes rejecting his every plea, utterly amused by his growing desperation and how he offered the most preposterous things on Amphoreus for you to forgive him. So you pushed your luck as far as you could before giving Phainon what he wanted, and he breathed you in like air, insisting on wanting more again and again as he pulled you so close you thought you would merge into him.

When you feel his hands roam down your body, tracing your curves and lingering on your hips, you break away before he could get any more carried away.

“Next time you see me while training, you should know what to do, right?” Was all you said that day before moving on, going back to the courtyard to collect his items for him because he was too dazed to do it himself.

Now, you’re left wondering how hard that sentence hit him as Phainon obediently sits down, staring at you with intense eyes that indicated he wanted something from you. He was sparing with Prince Mydei a mere second ago, how did he drop his weapon as soon as you walked in and just… plopped down on the bench like that was the most natural thing in the world? And the other Chrysos Heir just agreed? 

Was there something odd in the air today? Normally these two would spar until there were chips in their weapons.  

Mydei gave you a firm nod in greeting when he walked past and you returned it with a slight bow, still left wondering what on Amphoreus just occurred as you watch his retreating back. 

Until a certain hero clears his throat, causing you to tear your gaze away and at your main source of bewilderment. 

“Did you send Mydei away because… of me?” You ask. 

He nods. 

“Why?” 

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” 

Your mouth falls slightly agape before the realisation hits. “I… I guess? I was hoping to watch you two spar.” 

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even blink, only stares you. When you don’t give him what he wants, Phainon impatiently pats his spread thighs and you oblige, stopping before him and letting your hands rest on his face. 

“What am I going to do with you?” You whisper against his lips before sealing the words against his lips.

Well, this was your fault, after all, so you should just do your best to make him happy.

© EARTHTOOZ 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[vatelixx]

Ton 618,

S3-S4ish Spencer Reid x Reader (no mention of gender).

Fluff (no angst… surprisingly). Autistic Spencer (present in all of my one shots bcos it’s canon to me).

──── domesticated time inbetween cases & blind adoration.

Warnings: literally none (who am i???), brief mention of past trauma (Hankel).

w.c: 1.5k

— They’re both nerds who are a little too invested in space. Light biblical imagery & Greek mythology references. My writing has been sufficiently domesticated (dw i’ll be back to angst soon, war is not over.)

Loosely inspired by:

a/n: just giving him what he deserved to have.

────────────

For the first time, in a long time, there is little residing in Spencer’s mind. Beyond warm hands, and soft skin, and the pulse of someone else’s body. Obsessed is one word for it, a textbook definition that can’t truly articulate the ache he derives from the thought of you. Obsessed, fatefully ruined, if this is the work of divine intervention, then consider him, once obstinate in his atheism, entirely, profusely devout.

He’s still thinking about you. What’s new? The memory of your lips pressed against his, the tattooed promise of more, more because it will never be enough. He wants, god when has he ever wanted? Life before appears bleak now, black and white. Academia, pursuits of knowledge, lonely nights and the transient fear of forever being stuck in a cyclical cycle of loneliness.

You think he’s pretty. He smiles on the way home from work, Morgan pressing him, because ‘kid you can’t be that happy for no reason.’ There is a reason, a monumental, life-altering one that waits for him at the door. He likes that, the domesticity. He’s never asked for much, content in his mishaps of intimacy, always baring the weight because he wants needs to be good. For the people around him, for the home he’s carved into his skin, for anything that starves off the decades of isolation.

When he threads his arms around your waist, leaning all of his weight into the contact, you both go stumbling back.

He’s soft. Of course he’s endured more than anyone should, the sharp edge of addiction, the stifling weight of a morbid job that has him fixated, hook line and sinker, compass pointing South every time he’s thrown into the field. But for all of that, he still obtains naive, blinding light.

He burns. Or more so, he warms.

“Hi, hi. Sorry— that wasn’t very eloquent. Can I try again?” He’s halfway out of the door; you have to lean forward, grip his wrist, tug him closer, “Okay.” He laughs, “I’ll take that as a no?”

He’s certain your name is imprinted onto his heart. Carved just for you alone. There is no one else. There could never be anyone else.

That night he falls asleep on your shoulder. Hands interlocked, body splayed out across stressed leather, abandoning his book for the soft drab of safety. There’s a tangled wire of headphones draped between you, knotted further when you pull him, half conscious to bed. He follows mindlessly.

You spend his allocated time off as recluses, abandoning civilisation. No sunlight, his apartment is permanently drenched in molten light. Scattered lamps, balancing off stacked books and messy surfaces. Every morning he’ll wake you with butterfly kisses and the promise of a breakfast he will consistently burn. He’s content, over the moon, to forget the world around him. For it to just be, just the two of you.

Today, as usual, you eat his charred attempt at food. He’s trying, he’s definitely trying, even if the end result is… a health risk. Still, you eat it regardless, without complaint, you eat it.. and then he’s just… kissing you senseless in the middle of his kitchen. Cold tiled floor, and mismatched socks. Fuck, he loves you, he’s never loved someone the way he loves you.

“I’ve been dreaming about falling into black holes recently,” he says when you cradle his face. Pretty features besotted with the sight of you. “Weird. Kinda cool. Please don’t eat anymore of my food.”

“No promises,” you grin, and he has the audacity to pout.

Because that’s not fair, burnt food can cause carcinogens to form, to obstruct digestion and metabolism. “My cooking is going to kill you. Your death will be on my hands. The grief will be immeasurable. I’ll become a hermit, never leave my apartment again. Don’t do that to me.” hands wrapped around your wrists, he preserves the contact. “Please don’t do that to me.”

“Well only because you said please—“

He sighs, audibly, ”You just died, you’re dead, and the only thing you can focus on is a word. A word I very generously repeat, at any given moment.” — he’s polite, he will use his manners, and he will unceremoniously echo please please please to obtain even a fraction of you.

He’s senseless. Too far gone.

You take his hand, press it against your heart. “Still alive. I think?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “For now.”

“You’re dramatic—“

He cuts you off, “Did you know one of the largest black holes ever recorded is 66 billion times the mass of the sun? Ton 618.” Pausing to kiss you (a vital necessity), his hands play aimlessly with your hair, strands sliding through the crevices of his fingers. “Imagine falling into that—“ kiss, “You would die obviously,” kiss, “But it would be a pretty cool death.” Kiss. 

Time dilation, worm holes, cosmic demise, you. Sigh— you.

“It would take over 10 billion years for its light to reach earth.” you say, and yeah. Okay. Just casually recite facts to him. That’s okay. He won’t melt, because he’s a rational, dignified, highly-cerebral adult.

Lie. You always know when to talk, sometimes, sometimes, he gets so lost in thought-loops and spirals of intellectual confusion that you have to draw him back to the present. He disintegrates. Every. Single. Time. One intelligent word and the threads of him are woven tightly around your finger.

”You’re stealing my job. And—and you’re doing it better than me. I’m taking a vow of silence. No more words. I’m becoming a monk. Except, maybe without the celibacy?”

“Whore—“

“For you? Always.” he says, knocking his shoulder into yours, “You’re missing the important aspect to this. Don’t discard my threat.”

“Spence, if you ever stop reciting random facts to me at..” you scramble to check the time, early morning, it’s hard to differentiate the hours when they all bleed into one convoluted mess of intimacy. “At 9AM, we will have serious issues. I might get HR involved.“

He’ll ramble about the laws of thermodynamics. Dedicating hours to the philosophical differences between determinism and free-will. You’ll call him a nerd, and he’ll laugh, muffling your protests with his mouth. It’s routine. Something to fall back onto.

 “Hey! Don’t drag HR into our domestic affairs! That’s—“ he interrupts himself to kiss you, again. Just because he can.

Once he’s satisfied that his lips will ache for the next millennium, he continues. “Anyway. I think we should get old together, and then, when we’re losing our minds, and we can’t tell the days apart, we just.. take a casual trip to space, travel through Ton 618. I’d be scared, so I’d hold your hand when we fall. Getting sucked into eternal darkness would be an acceptable way to go.”

He laughs, “You know, as long as you’re by my side, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” you repeat, before holding out your pinky. “Deal?”

He feeds his own through yours, “Deal.” 

Yeah, just promise eternal devotion to him. That wont have any lasting, fatal effects on his sanity. It’s not like he’ll cling to it for the remainder of his ephemeral existence.

Later that night, when you’re draped in limbs, skin pressed against skin, you sigh against the warm slope of his neck. “You’re reciting the periodic table in your sleep again..”

It’s a habit. A permanent, engrained idiosyncratic that he’s endured since adolescence. He stirs awake, turning to face you in the hazy light. Features swollen, sleep-soft and pretty. “Was I?” He murmurs, finding the audacity to ask, “What element was i on?”

Because that’s clearly essential.

“Osmium,” you say, tucking strands of tousled auburn behind his ear. “Gonna continue?”

“Mhm— yeah. Iridium. One of my favourites, thank god you woke me up before I got to it.”

You humour his tendencies; you’re nothing if not a condoner of his weird quirks. “Discovered by Smithson Tennat in 1803.” is your response, “The name comes from Greek Mythology, Iris. Two stable Isotopes, 191 and 193.”

There you go again. Fracturing his mind, and stealing his information before it can fall from bruised lips.

He thinks you might be cut from the same cloth. He thinks he was probably just made for you. “I like the way you say Isotopes.” He mutters, “Like the way you kiss. You always take my top lip.”

There’s no epiphany. No sharp blade, dragging, penetrating, skin, forcing you to confront stifled feelings. They’ve always been there. Red string of fate, Plato’s Symposium: Aristophanes’ account of the ‘other half.’ Hero and Leander. It doesn’t matter. There’s only the here and now.

He does this thing. Often. Where he’ll moan into your open-mouth. Fingers sunk deep into your hair, keeping you impossibly tethered to him. You’re not sure what planet he fell from, but you’re glad they deported him, if only for your selfish benefit of circuiting around him.

“I’m in love with you,” the admittance is easy. Maybe the words have always been waiting for you to verbalise, bated breath, inexorably interlinked. Maybe they’re long overdue. Something pleading to be let out. But, maybe, it matters more to wait until this, when everything is soft and untouchable. Fresh, untainted. He’d like to live in your skin.

Here’s the thing, Spencer always thought he would be the first one to say it. Reciprocation was always a fantastical hypothetical, something he could only blindly hope for. But, to have his illimitable feelings, in their extensive capacity, matched? That’s— more than he ever thought he deserved.

He presses his forehead to yours, “Saying ‘i’m in love with you’ doesn’t measure up, doesn’t articulate even a fraction of what I feel for you.”

He’s pretty sure he could die right here, in this one fragile moment, and be happy with everything he’s accomplished.

[thecloudsaremyhome]

Yandere platonic omega emperor x teen beta reader

Summary: you’ve always have been having to look out for yourself no parents to comfort you or protect you no pack to vent to and to feel loved it’s always been just you. Well until you accidentally decided to pick up a job to steel from the feared emperor of your nation that is. How did you end up like this?

Tw: mentions of neglect and abuse, bad parenting and abandonment, yandere behavior and kidnapping and nesting, forced infantization.

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You've always been alone. Even when you were living with your parents they never treated you like their kid. They where never the best parents but it could've been worse, that's what you've had to constantly tell yourself. Growing up as a beta in this society was never easy either, you have to constantly prove yourself to everyone is has never been easy to be a beta while alphas and Omega's are looked at very highly, betas are at the bottom of th food chain constantly have to fight for survival an proving themselves to people who just don't give two shits unless your a noble and a alpha or Omega people just don't care. Half of the commoner Population is betas yet your still looked down upon by everyone for being a beta for not having Omega or alpha traits.

It's sad really I guess your whole existence in this world is to be a disappointment at least that's what your parents used. To say they were very greedy people guess that's maybe why they sold you off to a strange to make some extra cash because they have no need for you which hurts really badly, you remember it like it was yesterday.

“Mama! Papa! Please don't leave me with them please! Come back!”

You struggle against the grip holding you back from running to your parents who are casually walking away not even sparing you a second glance as Your taken away against your will. They didn't even seem to care for your cries for help as you put into a large carriage restrained as the people who bought you start the carriage but just before they could ride away your break free. From your restraints frantically as you make. Break for it out into the open streets away from the dark alleyway you were just as you run down the streets frantically trying to. Lose your captors. But before they could get any closer to your running form your captors accidentally knock over an alpha noble which results in your captors getting scolded, thankfully you managed to get away from them and loose them.

That memory till this day makes you shiver will anxiety. You've always been on edge especially years after that incident hoping they won't find you again. Even after you were able to escape from your captors you were never able to find your parents it's like they took the chance after they sold you to flee the Capitol you grew up it. Pathetic well you honestly wouldn't especially anything else from them they where drug addicts and gamblers but still they were your parents and the only family you had. You didn't have any other family members or pack members well you didn't really have. Pack at all your parents were too conservative and disapproved of the thought which made you feel even more lonely than you already were. But over time you didn't have to worry about them because they aren't here right now and you have to do everything you can to survive or try to at least.

That's why you resorted to stealing, sadly many jobs accept a 14 year old especially a inexperienced beta at that so you had to resort to stealing to survive, you removed when you first stole from a shop vender at a market in the more busy parts of the Capitol it felt Exilirating having the wind in you hair an the adrenaline pumping in you veins as guards chance after you. It felt amazing, so you started to steel more valuable objects for you and some neighbors you live with who can't afford much. It felt nice helping the people you care about because they are all that you have besides yourself that is. That I until a Strange man approached you one day while you carried your bah full of stolen gold and food you froze in your tracks as you inspected him caustiously. He then introduces himself as Ethel a noble man from the South part of the Capitol and he proposed a propersition for you to steal the emperor's crown in exchange for a fortune of gold that you thought could last you a life time and it could help the people in your building so you excitedly agree to the offer unknowing of the dangers ahead that will cost you your freedom.

—---------------------------------------

You got this you think to yourself as. You. Anxiously look in the dusty mirror glancing back at yourself. This should be pretty easy right? And he offered you a fortune to do it so you can't really turn it down now. But what if they catch you? What if they execute you? The emperor has known to be ruthless every since he killed the previous emperor and empress he has been know to rule with a iron fist and him being an Omega, is even more of a surprise to a lot of people but. That doesn't make him any less deadly. Snap out of it (name) we don't need to focus on the what ifs just sneak in and sneak out right? Easy?

This is far from easy once you sneakily entered the palace grounds near the entrance. It was littered with guards stationed from left to right. Luckily Ethel gave you a map of the palace layout. You didn't want to ask him where he got it nor did you want to know. You sigh in relief as you were able to avoid the first set of guards near the palace garden. It looks like they are about to switch shifts soon, a perfect chance to sneak in. You examine the guards placed at the front entrance of the palace. You can’t go through the front that would be to risky. What if you just climbed up? Yeah that could work you could climb uo the palace walls and use your grappling hook! Then you could break through one of the palace windows and head straight for the royal fault! Perfect plan! But their is a problem their also must be guards, guarding the vault so you’ll have to knock them out which won’t be easy on your part but it’s better to at least try than do nothing. So with your plan set in motion you grab your grappling hook from your back pack and swing it up towards one of the windows making sure it’s hooked on and steady you start to slowly climb up making sure to make a lookout for any gaurds passing bye just in case. You grunt in exhaustion as you finally make it up to the windows edge. You grab a screw drider and try to open the window from the other side thankfully it works, it’s better than breaking the window because you’ve tried that before with a previous robbery and it did not turn out so good so you’ve learned to use the screwdriver for fear rain windows to unlock. You carefully jump down from the window onto the marble floor taking notice of the surroundings. Luckily for you it looks like you broke into one of the many spare bedrooms in the large palace. With a large king size bed with a golden headboard and a very soft carpet. Wow is this what it feels and looks like to be living in royalty. You’d admit you're very jealous but not time to ponder right now you have a mission to complete!

So you exit the spare bedroom and quietly make your way down the hallway making sure to avoid any passing servants or guards patrolling the area. You sigh as you luckily was able to hide behind a curtain as another passing gaurds walk past you, you grab the map Ethel has gave you as you scan it trying to double check if you are even remotely close to the royal vault, sadly you aren’t. You don’t even know how the heck Ethel got this map and you don’t want to know when or how it’s really none of your business you're just here to get the job done and that’s all. Sadly the royal vault is on the other side or the castle which is heavily guarded and you also have to pass the emperor's chambers which is also heavily guarded! Great! So fucking great. You are totally not going to make it out alive.

You rush through the hallways trying to be as stealthy as possible. You finally made it to the other side of the palace havung accidentally allerted the gaurds when you passed the emperors chambers, you have to do this quick and fucking fast before they alert the emperor and their is a whole fucking search party to capture you. You pant as you finally make it down an empty hallway as guards rush past you. You sigh in relief as you take another glance at your map, you just have to pass this hallway then you’ll be the at the royal vault. Hopefully no one will be guarding it since your little mistake. Thankfully for just your luck no one was guarding it which causes you to use you Bobby pin to pick lock the huge lock on the door. Finally you get the door open but you accidentally trip a wire which sounds off an alarm, you jump in suprise fearful of your outcome as you quickly grab the crown and rush out the door only for it to be blocked off by gaurd surrounding you blocking your path towards the door. You whimper in fear as you try to hide the crown you stolen. The gaurds glare deadly at you. Finally the captain of the gaurds a tall and imposing alpha with dark brown hair flowing down his back and a tall structure. He steps forward glaring deadly at you. “What exactly is going on here?” He states as another more nervous gaurd then says “ we caught this beta here tripping the alarm to the vault and stealing the crown captain we already alerted his highness.”

“I see. Apprehend them now and hold them down we need to secure the crown.” The guards nod in approved and pin you down taking away your bag with your supplies and the crown. You try to fight against their hold but to no use you fail to get them off of you. You feel tears streaming down your face. This is it isant it? Your going to either be executed or rot in jail for the rest of your life? Just for some fucking stupid fortune you should’ve never taken up this job. Maybe you are a failure like your parents use to tell you.

Unbeknownst to you your upset pheromones reach Eugene the omega emperor he quickly enters the royal vault with two guards standing behind him he takes a look at the situation at hand and his eyes soften. “What exactly is going on here?” The emperors imposing voice breaks you out of your crying fit as you look up at him in awe at his beauty from his talk muscular built to his long dark black hair to his violet sharp eyes that can represent the stars themselves. He looks down at you as he speaks eyes soften just a bit as you look at him in suprise. The captain of the guards then speaks “ our guards caught this young beta tripping the wire and stealing the crown your majesty. What shall we do? Shall we execute them or throw them in the dungeon?”

Eugene looks down at you softly, how could anyone hurt someone so precious your scent gives off a sour taste but smells like fresh baby pounder and cherrys. Oh you look like a baby in his eyes so precious and small he just has to keep you.

“No.” He states firmly glaring at the guards holding you down “bring then to my chambers in one peace if I see any scratches or bruises on them your heads will be off do you understand?” The guards nervously shake their heads “yes your majesty!” The captain of the guards looks at the emperor in shock but shakes his head dismissively. Eugene exits the room swiftly leaving you alone with the gaurds.

You stare in shock at the scene that just occurred. You can feel your anxiety rising, oh fuck your going to die aren’t you he’s going to kill you himself and there's nothing you can do about it. You cry frantically trying to get out of the guards grips frantically, you can’t die! No you can’t! You have to get out of here.

Your fight or flight kicks in and you start to slowly have a panic attack as you're crying. You don’t even notice the sterilizer being injected into you before it is too late. You fall limp on the ground as your struggles cease, you pass out in the arms of one of the guards you vision going black as you finally pass out.

You groggily wake up to the feeling of a soft mattress under you, and a soft pillow-like feeling surrounding you. Your bed has never been this soft before, wait this isn't your bed. You slowly open your eyes looking around as you take notice of the sunlight peeking through the extravagant window. You quickly sof uo looking anxiously around the room as you notice you're in a king size bed with pillows and blankets surrounding you to form a nest like structure. You start to panic trying to get up and out of the nest. But before you can exit the bed a strong force pushes you back down you look up to see the emperor holding you down. “Shhh it’s okay pup lay back down I know your very sleepy don’t worry daddy will take care of you.” He coos at you looking at you with an obsessive glint in his eyes, you struggle trying to get out of his hold, but he shushes you as you whine lifting you up into his lap as he lightly brushes his calloused hands through your hair, trying to release calming pheromones to calm down your panicked state, which unfortunate for you it works causing you to unwillingly relax against his hold, which causes him to coo at you “ it’s okay baby you’ll be okay daddy’s here to take care of you now and forever.” What exactly have you done…can you even make it out? You don’t know but you don’t want to find out…

Authors note: hey y’all I hope you like this one shot I hope its to your liking I tried to make it as long as I could I kinda lost motivation at the end but I wanted to at least give you guys something I’ll defiantly make a part 2!

[marythequeen]

hello guys, i'm here to talk about leah toole's fictional book on mary i of england's. it's called the saddest princess.

at first, i want to clarify that i am highly aware that this book is fictional and not a biography. so you don't need to say "hey but it's fictional"

also, before reading her book, leah toole was someone i really liked. i used to follow her on tiktok and was really excited to read her book. however as you can understand, i am very, very disappointed.

let's start.

just after i had read the prologue i knew that many things would piss me off throughout the book because it was horrendous.

the vilification of queen mary is outdated now and seeing even the people that claim to like her doing this, made me feel awful. according to countless reports, in her death bed, she was peaceful and her conscience clean. the people that she had executed were mainly guilty of treason and many others were executed without her knowledge. i don't think that feeling guilty about this would be her main concern.

but do you know who was rather frightened and surrounded by guilt? her half sister elizabeth.

apart from this, if you ever saw a video of leah toole's, you probably know that she's a great hater of the spanish princess because of its inaccurate portrayals. mind you, the spanish princess tv show never ever claimed that it was historically accurate or something like that but leah toole was MAD (and rightfully so!! i totally agreed with her.) about it anyway. so imagine my disappointment when i started to read her book eagerly then realized that it, in many aspects, was a cheap copy of the tv show.

"there was no lone for this useless baby girl." i mean, really? that scene and almost everything about it was in the spanish princess. AND this whole scene could be proved wrong with countless reports. do i think katharine of aragon suffered from a kind of postpartum depression? i absolutely do. but do i think she HATED her own daughter for years? no because that's not what happened in reality.

again, this is a historical fiction book and it doesn't have to be historically accurate but it's called a hypocrisy when you criticize another material because of the same thing you did yourself.

(ps. katharine of aragon had blue eyes, not dark brown.)

mary's birth scene was AWFUL. henry saying mary is a useless girl was highly inaccurate. writing such things while mary's reputation is STILL unfairly blackened is very unnecessary.

"katherine had tried to love her daughter. but no matter how hard she tried, nothing the girl did held any meaning in katherine's eyes." are you kidding me??

also having mary curse constantly? this woman didn't know the meaning of whore until she was forty something. i can't even imagine her saying words such as bastard, harlot, whore etc. (in the book she called anne boleyn names when in reality she simply called her that woman. which is respectful enough.) especially when she used the word bastard when she was nine? now c'mon! throughout the book, the author is obviously influenced by the spanish princess tv show, even though she'd been very critical about the show. there's a pretty word for situations like this :) and it's called hypocrisy.

and *that* scene with duke philip? even the most passionate mary hater wouldn't write something like this. that was worse than wattpad, worse than ao3. (if you didn't read the book, take a deep breath, she had sex with him. again, did not happen in reality.)

apart from all of this, the only thing that i've liked about this book is clearly seeing that mary wasn't as forgiving as her mother was. because that's what actually happened. long story short, i was eager to read the other books of this series but i don't think that i'll be reading the rest. i am so very disappointed with this. it was such a waste of time. and i have to tell you that i am also incredibly sad because i used to enjoy her content a lot.

there are many more issues about this book but unfortunately i don't have enough time or will to live to write a detailed review but i think this'll do anyway.

lastly, at least there are very few quotes that i've liked and would want you to see.

—chapuys shrugged, "it would seem the king himself is struggling to separate the two religions," he said, "and his newest testaments have received mixed reactions from his council. i believe that in his heart he remains a catholic, but he does not wish to be told by anyone whether it be the pope or his best advisor - what he can and cannot do."

—"of all the women in my father's life, i have survived him the longest. and that alone is a great achievement."

—"i survived my father's tyranny for all my thirty-three years. this edward seymour could not scare me if he turned up at my doorstep dressed up as the devil himself."

[sometimeslwish]

God's & Monsters

I didn't think part two would happen so fast, but oh well.

Prologue

Chapter 1: Half a heart, half a soul.

Linkon city is beautiful.

It's a thought you've had time and time again, as you grew and allowed yourself a brief respite from the whirlwinds of time in your life. From hunter exams, parties with friends and hurried lunches or meet ups because you had somewhere else to be. That thought is one of many constant things in your life.

That and the constant feeling of longing and emptiness in you. It wasn't just your chest, it's your soul. Like the feeling has etched itself into every fiber of your being.

It made you a very sensitive kid, lonely, scared and confused over those emotions. Turned you into a fleeting social butterfly as an adult, never sticking to a friend group, friendships that could've been long lasting not making it past a few months.

You were there, physically, but mentally you were somewhere else. Always searching for something.

You find that something when you least expect it.

The name that starts with an "R" in the back of your mind that you can never complete, the purple waves and sunset eyes. You don't even realize what has happened until he's walked away from you, and then you're too scared to make a move.

How would you explain to a stranger that they feel familiar? That you've heard their laugh, touched their hair and kissed their skin? That you want to go back home even though you don't know where or what home is?

You spend your time thinking of him, his gaze always at the back of your mind. You're surprised when you see him again. Well, a picture of him, but you see him.

"Rafayel, huh?" saying his name outloud seals the deal for you. He's the R you've kept engraved in your heart, right next to that aether core. The feeling of happiness is a little surprising, but you don't think much of it. It's haunted you in your childhood years, it makes sense that you feel happy after finally having an answer.

When you go to his studio, it feels like going into a hidden little haven, and you have to concentrate to do your job. It smells like him, paint and god knows what other materials.

"It's fitting." The thought surprises you as you carefully make your way through his brushes. You're even more surprised when you find yourself feeling fond at his messiness, like it's something you should expect. You find him painting while sitting on a ladder. The sight feels right, like you should spend your days there, watching as he paints. The daydream ends when, against your wishes, you end up tripping on a bucket filled with brushes.

"Who is it? The studio is closed." His voice is curt, with an edge to it, and there's a slight frown on his facial expression. It softens when he sees your face, and his soft smile of recognition makes you feel warm. "Wait, aren't you the hunter from before?" You're halfway through a nod when his ladder shifts as he tries to adjust his position. You don't get time to hold it in place, only managing to barely catch him as he falls.

"You okay?" You ask, after stumbling one step back before steadying yourself. You've never been more grateful for your hours spent swinging weights, this feels like a warm up. You slowly set him down, fighting back a smile at his blush. It hurts your heart to have to keep things professional, but you've never been one to do your job poorly.

He makes it hard, as you expected. You don't get to unpack that bag of thoughts because he's quick to ramble on, barely even giving you time to think. You have to keep the reigns of the conversation and steer it as if it were an excited horse that wants to take you places. He has a flare for dramatics that makes him sound uncooperative, and it makes you loose your patience faster than you've ever known.

There's a part of you that's delighted, like you're back with an old friend and you missed their stupid antics. You put it in the same box of surprises that the studio has given you, compartmentalizing it along with the flash of familiarity that comes with seeing the little blue fish illusion.

Fighting the wanderer alongside him is familiar, new and disorienting all at once. You're acutely aware of him, much more than you've ever been with anyone else. Atuned to all of his movements, together, you work like a well oiled machine, keeping each other's backs.

You've done this before. It sounds crazy, you know it's a crazy thought to have, specially with such confidence and certainty, but it's the truth.

Did I mention you haven't been able to stop and think? Yeah, he's got a knack for keeping you out of your head. He strings you along into being his bodyguard– you let him. It's the perfect excuse, you'll get to know him better and find some answers to the door that has unlocked inside of you.

A part in you settles, and you don't notice the pep in your step as you leave his studio, feeling lighter and free.

Chapter 2

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

What remains of us, pt. 2

Summary: Wally spends the next month being an emotional crutch for Y/N, helping her to acclimate to the spirit world. In his attempts to cheer her up, he blatantly flirts with her and while she pretends it's not getting to her, it's getting harder to deny the way he makes her feel.

Warnings: death, angst, mentions of mental health issues, fluff, SCHOOL SHOOTING, swearing

Word count: 2.9k

Part 1

Y/N never thought the pain inside her would persist in the afterlife. She hoped it would be out of reach, gone with the life she lost too soon. Somehow, the nights she stayed awake became more painful now. At least when she was still alive there was a chance of falling asleep and allowing everything to fade away, but now? It’s impossible to escape.

She’s hounded by her anxious thoughts, wondering how her family is doing after her tragedy. Would this break her mother who pushed her into medicine in the first place? Would her father’s health take a turn for the worse now that his doctor daughter isn’t there to remind him to take his medication on time? Would her sister speak at the funeral after the fight they had a few days before she died? Would her nieces remember her, or would time erase all the ways she loved them?

Loves…she still loves them all. Death can’t take those emotions away.

Drawing in a deep breath, she closes her eyes.  Resting her chin on her knees, she exhales slowly. It wouldn’t do her any good to panic now. She’s dead. While she doesn’t remember the last moments of her life perfectly, she’s aware what killed her. Dwelling on it will only make it worse.

Swallowing thickly, she glances at Wally. He’s been respectful, keeping his distance the past week, but he’s remained fairly close the entire time. She’s been awful to him, barely exchanging a few words here and there, but he’s been very patient and she can’t help the way her chest tightens at the sight of him. It’s comforting not to be alone in this, as well as terrifying. If he’s been dead for forty-two years and still haunts his death place, is that her fate? Will she spend an eternity with Wally in this God-forsaken place?

Well, not only Wally. He’s introduced her to the looping band, Yuri in the art room, Mina the theatre kid, and Xavier Baxter who stayed in the library. There were others, but according to Wally, they mainly kept to themselves and didn’t interact with anyone. A similar idea simmered in her brain, but every time she’d see Wally’s eyes light up around her she knew taking a step back would hurt him. Every time she asks for alone time she sees the flicker of hurt and perhaps a little bit of panic cross his handsome features. Pulling away entirely would definitely do some damage, so she allows him to dwell close enough for them to reach out and touch. There are plenty of ghosts around this school, but something tells her Wally is lonely.  

Wetting her lips, she sighs. “What were your plans after high school?”

Wally perks up. “I had a scholarship,” he moves closer to her. “I was planning on going pro…I wasn’t the brightest student”, he admits. “I’m not sure what I’d choose to study.”

“Did you have lots of friends?”

Grinning, he nods. “Yeah. I see some of them occasionally”, he shrugs meekly. “A few still come to games, mainly because they want to relive their glory days. But most of them stopped coming when their kids graduated.”

“I’m sorry”, she says quietly.

His eyebrows furrow. “What for?”

Pursing her lips, she clasps her hands. Looking ahead, she sighs. “For what happened to you. You had your whole life ahead of you and instead of living it to the fullest, you’re watching the world move on.”

“I guess we have that in common”, Wally reaches out, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. “I wasn’t alone in this. I won’t let you be alone either.”

“You keep saying that”, she raises a brow. Standing, she watches Wally do the same.

Y/N blinks at the boy standing in front of her, his arms crossed over the faded lettering of a varsity football jacket. She can’t help but feel he’s keeping secrets, and when he brushes her chin with his thumb, grinning, she rejects the thought. Wally wouldn’t do that to her. She hasn’t known him for long, but she knows enough to trust him.

Biting her lower lip, her gaze falls to his lips as his smile turns into a teasing smirk. He’s tall, and his touch so invitingly warm and she has to remind herself to keep her hands steady because the last thing she needs is to develop a crush on a fellow ghost…Yet she wishes to embrace him, to be in his arms as she was the day she died. If she were to reach for him, would he let her melt into his arms? Part of her is scared she’d just phase through him, the way she did with the policeman, but if they could touch before and she felt his thumb on her chin, maybe hugging him whenever she wants is a possibility? He looks solid, too solid for someone who’s supposed to be dead. Then again, so is she. They’re made of the same material now, residing in the same plane of existence.

Sensing her mood, Wally didn’t want to risk her falling back into the silence he endured daily. He needs her to talk to him before he falls back into his own existential crisis.

“So,” he says, rocking back on his heels. “Not to be dramatic, but I think you might be my soulmate.”

She scoffs. “Excuse me?”

He gestures between them, grinning. “Come on, you’re new here. You’re dead. I’m dead. I’d say we were dying to meet each other, but…” He spreads his arms. “Bit late for that.”

Y/N gapes at him. “Oh my God.”

“I know, right? Super tragic. A life cut short in my prime. The world was robbed of my athletic greatness.” He sighs dramatically, tilting his head to the side. “Not to brag, but I was kind of a big deal.”

“Oh, I bet you were.” She folds her arms, eyeing him up and down. “Split River’s star quarterback, huh? You reek of jock energy.”

He gasps, clutching his chest as if she’s physically wounded him. “Whoa. Harsh. You don’t even know me, and you’re already assuming things? I feel so objectified.”

She arches a brow. “You’re wearing a letterman jacket inside a school. It’s practically a uniform for guys like you.”

Wally’s lips twitch like he’s trying not to laugh. Instead, he takes a slow, measured step toward her, gaze flicking over her skeptically. “And what exactly is ‘a guy like me’?”

Y/N smirks, playing along. “Cocky. Talks before he thinks. Probably spent more time flirting than studying.” She taps her chin, pretending to think. “Let me guess….your best subject? P.E.”

He groans, tilting his head back in exaggerated offense. “Wow. Okay. First of all, rude. Second, I’ll have you know I was decent at history. And third—” He suddenly drops to one knee, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “If being a cliché means meeting you, then I accept my fate.”

Y/N blinks. “Are you seriously fake-swooning right now?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Wally grins up at her, looking far too pleased with himself. “It’s called committing to the bit.”

She narrows her eyes. “I’m going to regret talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Nah.” He stands back up, brushing off his jacket. “I grow on people. Like an endearing ghost fungus.”

She wrinkles her nose. “That’s disgusting.”

“You’re smiling, though.” He nudges her shoulder, cocky but harmless. “Admit it. You think I’m funny.”

She rolls her eyes, but a small laugh escapes before she can stop it. Damn it.

Wally grins wider, tapping the side of his nose like he’s figured her out. “Called it.”

Y/N exhales sharply, shaking her head. “If we’re stuck here together, I will find a way to haunt you specifically.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, slinging an arm over her shoulder with infuriating ease. “I look forward to it.”

The week drags by in quiet stillness. With the school closed, the world outside feels distant, like it doesn’t belong to them anymore. Maybe it doesn’t.

It’s the perfect time for Wally to show Y/N the ropes, to teach her the strange rules of their existence. But mostly, it’s just nice to have the place to themselves before the students return, filling the halls with a life they can never be part of again.

Wally doesn’t mind the solitude. He’s had decades to get used to it. What surprises him is how much he likes having her here.

More often than not, whenever he loses sight of Y/N, he knows exactly where to find her. She always goes back to the hallway.

She’d lay where her heart stopped beating, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers neither of them knew the questions to. He doesn’t understand why she keeps returning to the scene of the crime. Maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe it’s just something she needs to do.

So he stays.

Tonight is no different. Wally rounds the corner, hands in his pockets, and spots her there again, motionless, her gaze distant. He lingers in the doorway, watching. The way the dim light filters through the old glass windows makes her look softer, almost alive.

Then she moves.

Y/N sits up slowly, rubbing her arms as a shiver racks through her. She exhales, breath shaky, running her hands up and down the length of her sleeves.

Wally frowns. “Hey, are you okay?”

She startles a little but doesn’t look at him right away. “Yeah. Just… cold.”

He hesitates. “You know we don’t get cold, right?”

Y/N lets out a quiet laugh. “I know. It’s just…” She trails off, sighing as she wraps her arms around her knees. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just my brain trying to hold on to something human.”

That makes sense, he supposes. After all, she’s still new to this, new to the way her body remembers things it no longer has to.

Without thinking, Wally shrugs off his letterman jacket. It’s second nature, something he’d done a hundred times for a girl on the bleachers or a teammate on the sidelines. But this time, it feels different. He steps closer and drapes it over her shoulders.

Y/N stills. Her fingers clutch at the fabric, eyes flicking to his in surprise. “You…what are you doing?”

Wally shrugs, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “What’s it look like? I’m being chivalrous.”

Her lips twitch. “You do realize this won’t actually warm me up, right?”

He smirks, shrugging again. “Humor me.”

Y/N studies him for a moment before glancing down at the jacket. She tugs it tighter around herself. It’s big on her. The sleeves hang past her hands, and his scent, while faint, lingers like something permanent.

If his heart was still beating, there’s no doubt in his mind it would be skipping a few beats now. His jacket looks perfect on her. She looks perfect.

Y/N glances up, watching him carefully. “Is this some kind of jock instinct? Lending your jacket to a girl so she falls hopelessly in love with you?”

Wally grins. “Is it working?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but her fingers tighten on the fabric. She doesn’t give it back.

He doesn’t ask for it.

Instead, he just sits beside her, shoulder to shoulder, watching the ceiling with her like maybe, if they wait long enough, they’ll finally see something that makes sense.

“I think I’m ready to lose the scrubs”, she says quietly as if it pains her.

Nodding, Wally holds out his hand for her to take. “Let’s go find something you can change into.”

Even with the new outfit, Y/N kept the jacket. 

During days, he watched her from a distance. She often chose to attend classes, watch the living. There was an increased police presence now, something she followed closely. Something about it all kept Y/N on her toes, and while he wanted to ask about it, Wally knew it would be better to let her come to him.

During nights, Y/N would lean her head on Wally’s shoulder, holding his jacket closer to her chest. She’d stare ahead, asking about his family from time to time. She asked about his family home, about his friends and their misadventures and he answered all in as much detail as he could recall. It’s been too long since he thought about his life, after all, he’s been dead for longer than he lived.

“Were there any other hobbies other than football?”

Gasping, he places a hand over his chest. “Football is life, not a hobby. Oh, you wound me when you say things like that!”

Chuckling, she shakes her head. If there’s anything she’s certain about, it’s Wally’s flare for drama and she can’t get enough.

“I apologize, Mr. Quarterback! Please, oh, please accept me in your good graces once more!”

Suppressing a smile, Wally watches her match his energy and he can’t help the blush spreading across his cheeks. He could get used to her…to this being his life.

“Very well, m’lady. I shall forgive theeee, but only if you come with me.”

Furrowing her brows, she narrows her eyes at him. “If I was alive, I’d be questioning if you’re luring me somewhere to kill me.”

“Who says I’m not?”

Clicking her tongue, she scoffs. “You play too much!”

Following his retreating figure, she frowns. His words sent a chill down her spine, one she couldn’t quite explain. She never felt unsafe around him before, never once questioned his motives, but now? Something was telling her to be careful.

Wally’s been around for a lot longer than Y/N…there’s no telling what he knows or what he is capable of.

He wouldn’t hurt her, would he?

Shaking her head, she pauses for a second.

Realizing she stopped, Wally glances at her over his shoulder, sending her a reassuring smile that makes her stomach flip – in a good way.

He wouldn’t hurt her, she decides. Wally is a friend and she really needs a friend right now.

Stopping in front of a room, she holds her breath as he turns on the lights.

The music room is exactly as he remembers it. Dusty, but not forgotten. A relic of the past tucked away in a corner of the school no one really pays attention to.

He steps inside first, leading her past the rows of chairs to the instrument-lined walls. His fingers trail over the edge of a piano, the metal of a trumpet, before finally stopping at what he came for.

A guitar.

Y/N crosses her arms, watching as he pulls it down and settles onto a stool.

“So this is your big secret?”

Wally runs his fingers along the strings, testing them. “What, disappointed?”

“Not really.” She shrugs, but there’s something playful in her tone. “I just should’ve known you’d be this kind of guy.”

He raises a brow. “What kind of guy?”

“The oh look, I play guitar, aren’t I mysterious and deep kind.”

Wally snorts. “Wow. That’s the energy I give off?”

She tilts her head. “Tell me honestly, how many girls did you do this for?”

Wally pretends to think. “Hmm. Only the cute ones.”

Y/N groans, rolling her eyes. “Unbelievable.”

He grins, strumming the first few chords of a song before she can argue. The sound is soft, familiar—something tucked away in his memory from years ago.

It takes her a second, but recognition flickers across her face. “Is this REO Speedwagon?”

Wally smirks. “You know it?”

“I mean, yeah. My mom liked them.” She narrows her eyes. “You’re seriously playing Can’t Fight This Feeling at me right now?”

“Why not?” He plucks the next notes with ease, settling into the rhythm. “It’s a classic.”

“It’s a romantic classic,” she points out.

He grins. “You saying you’re swooning?”

“I’m saying you’ve definitely pulled this move before.” She leans against the piano, arms crossed. “Be honest. This was your go-to seduction tactic, wasn’t it?”

Wally sighs dramatically. “You caught me.”

“I knew it.”

“In my defense,” he continues, fingers still moving over the strings, “it worked.”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head. “Well, I hate to break it to you, Romeo, but I’m not that easy.”

“That’s okay.” He glances up at her, his smile shifting into something softer, something real. “I don’t mind taking my time.”

Her breath catches, just slightly. Just enough.

She covers it up with an exaggerated groan, moving to sit across from him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

She rolls her eyes again but doesn’t deny it. Instead, she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she watches his fingers move.

Wally keeps playing, his voice joining the melody and she’s awestruck. There’s no denying he’s playing her heartstrings with every lyric passing his beautiful lips as he keeps watching her from beneath his lashes.

And even though she’ll never admit it, she likes this.

Likes the way the music fills the empty room, likes the way the emotions in his voice linger between them.

Maybe she is swooning…just a little.

But she’ll never let him know.

Not yet.

For now, she just lets him play.

And for the first time since she died, she lets herself stay in the moment instead of focusing on all the ways her life went wrong to lead her to the spirit world…to him.

[kinokoshoujoart]

the coolest kids in forgotten valley!!☆

(…it seems there may have been a stretch of time where rock and lumina were the only kids in forgotten valley…🥲)

poseref

[faaun]

pls i need to provide updates

[augustatheghost]

i don’t know what you guys are all complaining about i love that svu has vaporized olivia from woman on the verge to lady cragen

[name-doggo]

One thing I really wish the FF Community would Stop doing is Removing All Nuance from the Parents in Those Stories in order to Make Them Abusive Supervillains who Never Loved their Kid.

Like... In the Four Years I've been here, and for how Small the Community really is, you'd be surprised how many Times I've seen it-

[silverselfshippingchaos]

oh no. please no. no...

[fairy-ganj-mother]

yesterday at 29.5 years old I watched as many videos as I could find from my high school marching band, choir, and theater run crew days and realized I barely have any memories of my junior year of high school (13-14 years ago btw) other than feeling bad™️

[itsalwaysdark]

bedtime nowww probably ummm today qas not what i wanted it 2 be but its fine. i dont feel negative just a very very very numb day which is almost worse. but only almost 🙏

[dirt-str1der]

just wanna say im obsessed with your mind and i read your posts about kiryu like the morning paper. thank you for your service

(Sweats) e-even the ones about him laying eggs ?

[multishipper-baby]

Baby fever so bad I've been thinking about the ideal number of kids for characters. What is wrong with me.

[thebleedingeffect]

.