#too many ideas that would need to be common knowledge before hand

[ganonfan1995]

Maybe I'll eat my hat, but I keep seeing people fear monger/hype(???) themselves over a rumour of an Illumination animated Zelda film...But like Nintendo has been pretty protective over the Zelda IP since BOTW. Unless it's a film that directly ties into BOTW/TOTK, I can't really see Nintendo approving on any sort of Zelda spin-off pitch, even if the Mario movie does really well.

Mario is a bit more ubiquitous when it comes to appeal and broad recognition. Not that LoZ as a whole is unpopular -- I think BOTW really re-established the franchise and reintroduced it into public consciousness. But when placed up against Mario, LoZ doesn't really hold a candle in terms of marketability.

[ozzgin]

The Mean Girl Bully Reader x Nerd Loser Yandere story sparked another red flag reader idea I had 😈

Imagine a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere. Unlike our favorite monster whore gal, and two-faced bully, this new reader insert is super vocal about her distaste in just about everything. Hardly anything is up to her “standards.” She not only complains, but whines too! 🥳

Then her poor beau weirdly loves her despite her horrid personality. I don’t know how, I’ll leave that part of imagining up to you, but there’s my request 🥺

I just like morally grey or blatant antagonistic readers. A lot of times, it’s more fun if the reader is attractive this way to a yandere, than having stereotypical good traits, like being compassionate or respectful 😔

So please, a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere?

-👘

I was wondering if I should just incorporate this into the Yandere CEO draft I have, but I had this sudden idea for a downright shameless relationship between a beloved, well-respected politician and a perverted, needy brat of a Darling. (I don't like politicians but alas, I needed a high-stakes public profession for this)

Yandere! Politician x Bratty! Reader

Mr. Politician is a true rarity in his field of work: well-mannered, articulate, and most importantly, genuine in his dedication. He works tirelessly for change and improvement, earning the adoration of the people. There's only one exception to his loyalty: no country ever comes before his Darling. And what a demanding Darling you are...

Content: female reader, older yandere, NSFW, some exhibitionism

Many would describe their interactions with Mr. Politician as follows: he's disciplined, confident and resourceful. A natural born leader, you can tell within seconds of meeting him that he is a man to rely on. He's spent many years in the game, and nothing can shake him out of his signature calmness. He keeps everything in pristine order, and nothing escapes his scrutiny.

There is, however, one quirk only few select people know about. A detail no one dares to discuss. It is common knowledge that Mr. Politician has a partner, yet the particularities of it are kept private. His beloved is a much younger girl, rotten to the core. It is unclear how this pairing came to be; the day Mr. Politician won his place in his prestigious office, he showed up with the mysterious feminine figure at his side.

What's certain and obvious to all witnesses is that his vocabulary quickly discards any meaning of refusal whenever he's dealing with you. It almost feels like the man worships you. He's never alluded to being religious, most likely because that role's been taken already. His eyes soften whenever directed at you, gleaming with raw adoration.

Splurging on expensive things is a given. Money has never been an issue for someone of his status. In fact, it's a handy and convenient tool he frequently uses to dampen the damage of your tantrums.

"Disgusting", you spit between your teeth, pushing the plate away and crossing your arms. The renowned chef of the Michelin star restaurant can only stare in horror before Mr. Politician intervenes with a chuckle. "Not feeling it today, huh?", he coos at you with loving strokes. "May I ask that you bring everything else from the menu?" he says in a sterner voice to the employee. "E-everything, Sir?" the waitstaff questions. "Well, naturally. I can't let my Darling starve."

"I'm bored. Let's leave now", you mention bluntly, standing in front of the heavily ornate table with a huff. "Are you sure, Darling? It's an important meeting for the country", Mr. Politician tries to plead. Around him, the other men sit baffled, observing the outrageous exchange. "Now!" you conclude louder. Before anyone can protest, your boyfriend stands up obediently and reaches out for your hand. "Then allow me to guide you, love."

A paradox. His earnest work is put to a halt if you require anything from him. Somehow, he has until now managed to juggle the two with little effort, and to his credit, there have been many instances requiring nerves of steel. Such as you paying him an unannounced visit to the office, and disliking the fact he was unavailable due to a meeting. So, you marched over to the window and promptly flashed your chest against the glass. Everyone else was focused on the opposing whiteboard; he was the only one who immediately noticed your arrival. "As you can see, the expected result is irresistible", he continued with a professional smile, tapping the graph with a marker.

Everyone knows Mr. Politician is fervently devoted to his principles. Take his last public speech, for example. Knuckles white from gripping the podium, he'd nearly choked during an eloquent -but passionate - conclusion. His face was red, his jaw tightened. He needed a moment to recollect himself, and the public waited with bated breaths, visibly emotional. Of course, they couldn't tell the outrageous truth: that you were shamelessly kneeling at his feet, pumping and teasing his erection until, at last, he let go all over your face.

"I wanted to see if you'd stumble on your words", you explain afterwards, wiping the sticky liquid off with a damp cloth. "That would've been unpleasant", he responds with a shiver. "It was live on national television."

He does not seem too bothered by the potential risk of being caught. Truly, his nonchalance knows no bounds when it comes to you. Or perhaps it is part of the charm. There's something quite depraved yet tempting about this perpetual contrast.

To return your daring favor, he gently places you onto his desk and spreads your legs, leaving trails of kisses along the inner surface of your thigh. A quick glance down confirms his suspicions: your bare bottom lays on top of confidential, rather important documents he dutifully signed hours ago. How thrilling of a feeling! He already smiles in anticipation, picturing himself as he hands over the folder to the oblivious party. He's not breaking any rules, now, is he? Nowhere in the book of etiquette does it state you mustn't fuck your beloved on top of official papers.

You gaze at the disheveled face underneath you. "One day I'll get you in trouble", you blurt out between whines. "Me? Oh, Darling. You know I always have everything under control." He lifts himself up and gives you a quick, desperate kiss. "Including you."

[theyluvlyss]

𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐥...

batman's cape (and any of the other batfam member's capes) are heated/can be microwaved :D.

...yeah, probably not the most original thought. surely someone has come up with this before, and hey, maybe it's even canon - but that doesn't really take away any of the ideas I have, so on we go anyways lmao.

I imagine that you, y/n, reader (lol idk-) is often found all wrapped up in bruce's cape (ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S FRESH OUT OF THE WASH) and he'll be TEARING the manor apart looking for that shit because why would it be anywhere else except in the bat-cave, in his bat-suit vault, right there clipped onto the specific bat-suit he's choosing to wear for whatever mission he's finna go on, just to eventually find you on a couch somewhere above the bat-cave all rolled up like a worm in it with the glow of your phone emitting from underneath the fabric and your little giggles muffled by it because you're probably laughing at memes or something idk.

bruce is definitely the type to think it's silly and lowkey can't even blame you because it do be cold in the mansion, but he also refuses to drop the "I'm so hardcore and a brute and stone cold" act so he's yanking that shit offa' you and you're just BEWILDERED, suddenly exposed to the light and cold like, "😮⁉️🫨⁉️" and before you can even process wtf happened, bruce is already whisking around the corner, gone and out of sight💀.

dick would also think it's silly, but lowkey actually be annoyed, though, and he'd make that KNOWN. like, sure, he'd initially be VERY stressed when he can't find the cape (even though it's not thay big of a deal but for some reason, he just doesn't feel "complete" without it😭) but then he'd see this huge lump all wrapped up in it on a bed in one of the many rooms or something. at first, he'd think it's one of the handful of pets owned and living in the wayne estate, just to peel back the fabric and see YOU.

"...Hi😃..."

"...🙂Why are- Nevermind. You do know that I need this, right?"

"I mean,,, you don't need it, you just-"

*YANK!!*

"NO, WAIT, IT'S COLD!!"

"THEN GET A BLANKET!!"

I'm sorry, but I feel like dick don't play 'bout his cape, and you're just either gonna have to find different ways to sneak it or just leave it tf alone😭✋🏽. but when it's not currently in dire need by him, he'll happily return it to you and smile when you squeal and wrap yourself back up in and under it while it warms up.

BARBARA GETS IT FR. SHE GETS ✨️🩷YOU🩷✨️. but also, she is attached to it in the way dick is, so don't be surprised if and when she needs it, she's taking it from you with zero mercy and under the excuse of, "I'm on duty tonight, I'm not showing up out of uniform lol." and you're just left there like "☹️...". but outside of those times, the both of you can be found very happily and contently under her cape as you watch horror movies or something and rambling about who knows what, a common interest lol.

and I'm pretty sure in some strains/universes or whatever of dc, she ends up becoming oracle because she's paralyzed or some shit, right?? I could totally be wrong, but if I'm not, I feel like in that case, she just GIVES it to you. she makes it a huge deal, too, she acts like she's passing along the magical ashes of a dead ancestor that grants you infinite knowledge and protection or some shit and has a whole speech prepared, just for her to hand you this neatly folded up cloth and you're just like, "...You're giving me your cape😀??" and she's like, "Ya🙂♡." and you can't even be mad because ...

IT'S A HEATED CAPE like idk what else you could want from her like plz✋🏽.

(*casually skips over Tim bc idk enough about him and if I mischaracterized him I'd have to delete this account and then me off of the face of this earth bc I refuse to be that bitch who doesn't know her shit😃*)

jason will see you with his cape, and whether you're awake or asleep, he'll loom over you menacingly until you sense his presence, and then not even give you the chance to give excuses before he's like, "I'm on watch tonight."

you don't dare protest lmao. and he isn't giving it back to you later on. it's one of those things that if you really want it, you gotta go get it. and then expect you won't have it for very long, so whatever you plan on doing with it, you better make the most of it😭✋🏽. that's literally all I can say for him lmao.

DAMIAN (my fave) (^3^)/. I feel like he'd make it seem like SUCH an inconvenience for himself even though he doesn't actually care about the cape itself and if anything, finds it very sweet and endearing that you literally use it as a blanket because "it gets so warm" and "it smells like you" and "it's here when you're gone and I miss you". but, much like his father, he just HAS to keep up the, "I'm so stone cold and no nonsense and eternally vexed" facade, so if you're awake and you have it, he'll just hold out his hand expectingly and - like jason - you don't dare argue because you're just gonna lose🥲.

but if he finds the cape and you're asleep with/under it, he'll actually let you keep it. like, he'll just leave it and either go about his superhero duties without the cape entirely, or he'll just use another one from a different suit. sure, it might possess different capabilities (no pun intended), or he might feel a little... off... without a cape, but he'd rather that than interrupt your comfortable state.

and you'll be so bent up about it when he returns, and you're like, "WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST TAKE IT😭💔?!" and he's like, "you were obviously very comfortable, I didn't want to disturb you😐..........🫶🏼."

so um.... yeah, I honeslty dk where all of that came from, but do with this info what you will.

byeeee /ᐠ^ω^マ~ !!

[islayhawkin]

It's from her

Captain John price x fem!reader

Summary: The task force learns that john's beanie holds way more importance to him than it should

Warnings!: sad and vulnerable john, prob ooc, not edited

Leaving for a mission was always hard. He knew that you struggled immensly with it and while he never showed it, it took it's toll on him too.

To leave you behind. Knowing that you had a hard time because of him.

To have the mission ahead of him. The knowledge that he'd be away for weeks or even months on end. The contact to you was rare and it took a lot of effort for him to be able to have a phone call or receive a letter from you. He always worried. While he was the one fighting for his life, there was always a part of his mind that thought about how you were doing, if something happened, if you needed him...The constant uncertainty was driving him on edge sometimes.

And he missed you. Oh, how he missed you. He spent so many lonely nights in his tent or a safe house imagining you beside him while the snores of his comrades filled his ears.

John clung to the few things he had with him that were you. One of them being his hat.

It was one of the first things he got from you. You had knitted the beanie when you first moved in together. Every evening when you two had cuddled up on the couch, the TV playing, you had knitted. He had seen it develop and it was the most calming sound to him, whenever he heard your needles clicking softly against each other. Not until you finished the hat had he been aware that you made it for him.

"Here. I made this for you." You had smiled at him proudly as you handed over the dark-knitted beanie.

It was nothing special and with closer inspection, a few mistakes could be sighted but for john it meant the world. At first, he had struggled to even think of a response as he gripped the soft fabric in his rough hands.

"I know you always like to have something on your head and I thought that would keep you warm when you're in a cold area..." you had muttered out your explanation.

"thank you." He had replied quietly. The love and astonishment had been evident in his expression.

There were times when he thought back to that moment and wished he had said more. That he would've been able to express what it meant to him. But you knew without him saying so. It was clear in his actions.

It was endearing how he still took it on every mission after all these years.

The 141 started to notice it's importance to him when he couldn't find it at base. His usual calm demeanor was slightly irritable and underlined by the strong walk as he barged into the common room as if he were on a mission to save the queen.

"Does any of you shitheads have my hat?" His deep voice made the whole room go quiet.

Soap and ghost exchanged glances. "Got no reason to steal your hat captain." Ghost grumbled out.

John clenched and unclenched his fists multiple times. The muscle in his jaw tightened. "You'll have no problem then if I check your rooms lieutenant." There were some unspoken words between them as two pairs of hard eyes met each other.

"No problem." Ghost replied.

Price took a look around the room before giving them a nod and leaving for their private quarters.

"What's wrong with him?" Gaz leaned over the table to his comrades.

"No bloody idea. Probably got his period." Ghost grumbled.

Price rummaged through room after room methodically. The drawers and cabinets were thrown open and closed softly after close inspection. He muttered a few annoyed curses when he arrived at soap's room: the drawers were already opened but his clothes were probably more scattered over the floor room than in his closet. Room inspections were obviously in dire need of attention.

When he made it to Gaz's room the hat was the first thing his eyes spotted as he opened the door. There it was. slightly frizzy and worn at the edges but still looking soft the way it always did. Except that it didn't lay at its usual spot in his neatly organized closet.

"Can't keep their bloody hands to their own stuff." John grumbled.

The tension fell from his body as he picked the beanie up and took it back to his room. He laid it back to the dedicated spot with a scarf next to it. His eyes observed how it seemed to lay so innocently in front of him. A tired sigh escaped his lips before he pushed himself into an upright position and locked the door to his room for good measure.

In the next moment he dragged gaz out of his chair pressed him against the wall. Johns hand clasped the collar of gazs uniform. While gaz grunted from the impact of his captains weight against him, his face stayed nonchalant. If you knew him better you'd seen the small sliver of nervousness in his eyes.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing with my stuff?" Price gritted out.

"I didn't take anything from you sir." Gaz shot back almost angrily at the accusation.

"You think that's funny huh?" John sneered. It was unusual for the captain to throw angry words at his team. He was always the composed one; giving them a sense of confidence and security in the battlefield.

"No sir."

"Hmhm. I found something in your quarters. My goddamn hat on top of your closet."

Gaz frowned. "Captain I didn't- sir I don't know anything about that."

Price grunted in frustration before ghost stepped to them and slightly pulled the captain back. "Take it easy cap."

John let himself fall back before pointing a warning finger at the young sergeant. "Just keep your hands off of my things. Especially that hat. Got it?"

Gaz gave him a nod but he didn't back down from his position as innocent. The air was tense as everyone watched the ongoing confrontation.

Ghost gave his captain a look which held john back made him leave the room back to his own office (where he should've worked for the last hour). The lieutenant followed him out as if to escort him. "Why are ya followin' me simon?"

Ghost was about to protest about his name choice but decided there were more important matters at hand right now.

"I figured you'd want to tell me what's going on?" The deep voice came from behind the mask.

Price stopped in his tracks and crossed his arms while shifting his weight onto his toes. "What?"

While price was a tall and muscular man he had no chance against the build of ghost as he towered opposite of him.

"You're going wild over a damn hat for no reason." His tone sounded almost bored.

"It's not just a bloody hat!" John's jaw clicked.

Ghost scoffed. "Then what is this about?"

"With all due respect lieutenant, you wouldn't understand."

That was it. It was never brought up again until a few months later on a mission at the Russian border.

A small safe house offered them shelter before they took off for the next day.

The night was a troubled one. Everyone was anxious and tired, which was a dangerous mix of feelings in a group of men. But they were trained for this. Keeping one eye and ear open constantly; without pause. This was the requirement to survival.

John took the night shift after Ghost woke him up out of a rather unpleasant dream. Everything was quiet except for a few night animals chirping in the forest surrounding them. The sun already brought a bit of light through the windows.

He sat down against a pillar and rubbed his exhausted eyes with his calloused palms. A defeated sigh escaped his lips as he took the gun into his hand and let his head lull back against the wood.

The last few months had been rough. The 141 was on this mission since almost two months now and it felt like they didn't get any closer to their target. For john it meant two months without you. No call, no letter, nothing. For all he knew you could be laying in bed with another guy right now. He couldn't blame you. No, what was he thinking. That was a riddiculous thought. He grunted quietly as he rubbed a hand over his beard. John definately needed sleep.

His beard and hair had grown out over the time, which made him think of the way you'd sit him on the toilet lid and step between his legs to shave his beard for him. You never realised how that position made it quite impossible for him to relax under your intense stare. He smiled at the memory and simultaneously hope that he'd be able to be in that position soon again.

The nightmare had made him unpleasantly agitated and worried. John just hoped, prayed and begged Laswell to make sure that you were okay.

A few hours later the sun started to rise above the horizon, which brought john his clue to wake everyone up and get going for the day ahead. When everybody was checked and price paced slowly in front of the group to explain the plan his voice got stuck in his throat. He had been telling them that they would be making their way into the snowy area as your voice made it's way into his thoughts.

'to keep you warm in colder regions.' you had said with that sweet smile when you gave him his hat.

The hat.

He didn't have his beanie on. It got soaked through yesterday and he took it off to dry. But they had checked the whole safehouse already, ready for departure.

"My hat. Has anyone seen it?" he questioned the group of men standing before him. They looked stunned at his sudden change of topic.

When they didn't answer he started walking up the stairs. Frantically going through the rooms again. Soap went with a nod to the others after him. "Capt'n. We're ready for departure. None of us saw yer hat."

John shook his head. "Not without it." He searched the drawers in the room even though he knew it couldn't be there. His expression was stoic and unreadable but there were emotions behind those blue eyes.

They gave him a few minutes but when he didn't make a move to get on with it ghost shouted up the stairs. "Cap we have a schedule remember?" It sounded slightly irritated coming from behind the mask.

"I said I'm not going without it!" John thundered back.

He couldn't leave without it. It felt like leaving you behind. It was irrational and stupid and the hat was going to cost him his goddamn life someday but... he needed it. That feeling couldn't be explained with rationality or tactic. you would have described it as love. But john would rather name it desperation.

"It's just a bloody hat. We need to get going." Ghost came up beside him.

"It's not. It's from her." John pulled his lips in a thin line as he exhaled through his nose sharply. The room went quiet for a moment at his admission.

Ghosts expression stayed emotionless as he crossed his bulky arms over his chest.

"Yer bonnie wife?" soap asked for clarification.

John nodded sharply and but turned away quickly from the pair when soap raised a brow.

"Honestly dinna know yer were married to her until a few weeks back. I'm sure ye'll survive a week without the hat and see yer lass soon hm?"

Ghost grunted in frustration. "Seriously? That's been the reason for this bloody hat."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. When you're married we can have this conversation." John shot back at his lieutenant. His voice thick with accent and a deep grumbling from the throat.

Soap got between them before Ghost had the chance to respond. "So we ready to go then? Captain?"

John pursed his lips and it pained him to go through with it but he shut off his emotions like he so often did and gave them a stern nod. He started to talk about their upcoming task again as he took the lead once more.

When he got home to you a week later he couldn't hold back a few tears in his eyes when you presented him a new, more colourful beanie, that you made when he was gone. And to his delight you ushered him into the bathroom to shave him first thing in the morning.

The task force never dared to touch his hat again.

[poppadom0912]

Excuses

Warnings: Mentions of fainting, diabetes, canon-typical injuries

Summary: You suffer the consequences just because your teacher thought you were making excuses.

A/N: First fic of 2024!!! I had plans that I was going to post weekly in the new year just like last year but things went downhill. This january and february has had its very good but also really bad moments and even writing this was a struggle. I've found myself in a weird place of wanting to write but struggling and all of a sudden not being able to balance my schoolwork and writing. So I took a lil step back to solely focus on my work but looking at everything now, my fic updates will be much less frequent but hopefully just as or if not, more fun to read.

I feel bad for not saying or posting anything since the new year but I'm here now and hopefully will be more alive. I've got lots planned for you beautiful people, several series and way too many fics in my drafts that I cannot wait for you all to read. This wasn't as long or as juicy as I intended but my brain completely failed me so I hope this is good enough. I initially wanted to post this at the beginning of March but I finished the final editing today so here you go!!

Final note before we start, I have general knowledge about diabetes but that's all from my grandma. I have no idea if it's the same for teenagers so I'm sorry for any mistakes. Happy reading!!

Your biology teacher had been on maternity for three weeks now and you were seriously contemplating life.

Because of the crappy rules surrounding maternity leave, when your teacher refused to return before her three months ended, your school had a supply teacher fill in for her till she came back.

Since day one, you knew you hated her.

It was mid lesson and you knew as soon as you started feeling sluggish that your sugar levels were dropping. Your thoughts were only confirmed when your Dexcom receiver let you know of your decreasing glucose.

This wasn't a usual occurrence. Will and Jay always made sure you had eaten enough and you had the means to maintain the needed glucose levels so that nothing happened.

Alas, you were up late revising and you were stressing about keeping up your good grades. Jay was rushing you out the door because he needed to go to a scene he'd just been called to and Will was out walking Kol and hadn't seen you leave.

In conclusion, it'd been a hot minute since you last ate something.

The school were well aware of your diabetes. It was one of the very important things your brothers stressed them about when you first started.

Most students knew about it actually, having seen your Dexcom and not understanding since a diabetic child apparently wasn't common according to them.

So, when you randomly pulled out a snack from your bag mid class, no one questioned it and instead would make sure you were okay. There'd never been a problem before in school and everyone wanted it to stay that way.

However, this new teacher, Mrs Byrne was apparently completely unaware of your medical condition.

"Y/N. You know the rules about eating in class." She said strictly, pulling away all the attention from the board onto you.

She stopped you in the middle of opening the packet of fruit gummies. You frowned, looking at her confused along with your classmates.

"I have diabetes." You said bluntly, continuing to open the packet. "I don't eat this and I'll pass out."

Mrs Byrne only rolled her eyes, smiling at you condescendingly. "I've heard that excuse hundreds of times, give those to me."

You scoffed at the audacity, refusing to hand over what was yours.

It was when she started walking towards your desk with a pep in her step that the entire class got involved. Their raised voices overlapped, some angrier than others over what was happening.

However, you too were Stubborn alike to your brothers so you kept as firm of a grip of the packet. You turned a blind eye to the anger fuelled cover teacher. You continued to smile as she spewed threats of all sorts.

Due to your frustration and annoyance over the teacher who wanted to take your gummies away, you didn't notice how everything started change; how hard it was to move your eyes and lips, your limbs getting heavier and you thoughts slowly getting muddled up.

Lost in a daze, you were no longer able to fight back when she pulled harder, successfully snatching the small packet out of your hands. It was now that the class got furious, your friends were already up and at your side but now they were verbally attacking the teacher.

Fed up with her petty behaviour, you were going to get up and go to the nurses office who would take care of you but getting out your seat was harder said than done.

With one of your friends help, you weren't too sure who was helping you from your hazy sight that cleared when you blinked too many times.

You were wobbly on your feet, taking slow and hesitant steps towards the front of the classroom but before you could leave, you felt your legs give out and everything went black.

*****

It turned out that supposed crime scene that he was imminently needed at was nothing but a prank by a bunch of college boys resulting in a grumpy Hank putting them in cuffs and having them fined for a very reasonable reason.

That's how the rest of the unit found themselves finishing up paperwork, catching up about life in general as they debated what they were getting for lunch.

Jay was smugly sitting back, eyes flickering between Kevin and Adam who were bickering over something trivial when his phone rung, catching everyone's attention.

They were all so bored and normally when one of their phones went off during work hours, it meant something came up and they were needed.

In interest, everyone turned their heads towards Jay and waited for him to tell them they got a crime scene.

Picking up his phone, Jay's brows furrowed at the number, confused as to why your school was calling him in the middle of the day. They'd only call him if two things happened: You'd gotten in trouble or you got hurt.

"Hello. Is this Y/N Halsteads brother Jay?" A voice he couldn't recognised asked, most likely some lady from the main office.

"Yeah, that's me." Jay confirmed, sitting up in preparation for whatever he was going to be told.

"So sorry to interrupt you sir but Y/N collapsed in class." The lady said with guilt laced in her words. "Your other brother didn't pick up the phone. We called to let you know we had to call the paramedics and they've taken her to Chicago Med."

"Uh yeah." Jay said, collecting his jacket and keys. "Yes, thank you."

Not waiting for a reply, Jay hung up and quickly knocked on Hank's office door frame.

"Sarge, I gotta get Y/N-"

"Go get her. We're done here."

*****

Wanting to pull his hair out, Will rubbed his eyes in frustration, glaring at his patients scans that only confused him further. He was tired and was coming to half way through his twenty four hour shift.

"Dr Halstead- Uh, Dr Rhodes in T4." Maggie stumbled, looking down at her brick and making sure she read it correctly.

"What's wrong?" Will asked, confused as to why Maggie changed her mind which she usually never did.

"It's Y/N."

Now fully awake, Will followed Connor towards the ambulance bay where you were being rolled in. You were groggily sitting up on the stretcher, you hair a mess and a few scratches around your face and hands from when you fell.

"Sylvie, what happened?" Will asked the blonde paramedic while looking you over. He desperately wanted to check you over himself but let Connor do his thing. He really did not need Ms Goodwin on his case today.

"Teachers didn't tell us much but her classmates said she collapsed after not being able to eat." Sylvie relayed the minimal information she knew, shrugging her shoulders when the two doctors looked at her weirdly. "No one would tell us anything more."

"Y/N, it's Connor. Can you hear me kid?" Connor said while pulling out his penlight. He was like another brother to you, his concern just as high. "Can you tell me what happened?"

You groaned, mumbling nonsense with your eyes screwed closed. Your words were mostly unintelligible but Will understood them mere seconds later.

Fixing the problem you complained about, Will turned down the lights and let Connor continue fussing over you.

It didn't take long to find out the cause of your collapse, Will sighing at the news when he read the numbers from your tests.

"I thought she was always on top of her sugar levels." Connor said, closing the room door so you could sleep in peace.

And what he said was completely true but they weren't aware of why you couldn't today specifically of all days.

"She is." Will said, rubbing a hand down his face in frustration. "Maybe her dexcom malfunctioned or something."

Connor hummed, agreeing with his friend.

"Hmm, maybe."

*****

Arriving at Med, Will gave Jay a detailed rundown of everything he new about your medical state but also the events pre your hospital arrival.

Getting a good look at you, holding your hand in his and kissing you on your forehead, Jay was more than happy to leave you in your oldest brothers safe hands while he got to the bottom of this entire ordeal.

He noticed Sylvie was still at Med, Foster mentioning they were running low on a few supplies so they needed some stocking up. Jay took this opportunity to interview the two paramedics and try to get further understanding on this situation that wasn't making much sense to him.

Arriving at your school, Jay had some thoughts in mind but they weren't very concrete and his confidence wasn't as strong as he'd like it to be.

Walking into the school, Jay immediately noticed an entire class sitting and standing around in the corridor waiting in front of the principals office.

One of the girls who had been sitting in a chair had caught sight of Jay, her eyes widening before she smiled, gently nudging the girl next to her and pointing in his direction. The girls reaction was the exact same.

This created a sort of domino effect as the boy next to her noticed Jay and everyone was telling the other of his sudden arrival. The once silent corridor was now beginning to fill with murmurs and whispers, all their eyes glued onto his figure that moved down the corridor, their shocked faces quickly changing into smiles and smirks.

It seems that Jay had a reputation of sorts.

"Why are you making so much noise? What did I just say about talking-"

The principal cut himself off from his scolding when he suddenly noticed Jay's presence, his face blanching as all the pieces clicked into place.

"Detective Halstead! What a surprise, we weren't expecting to see you so soon-"

This time Jay cut him off, not too bothered about his lack manners. "My brothers with Y/N at the hospital so I thought there was no other perfect time."

The principal remained silent.

"Now, why don't you explain to me why my sister fainted under your watch?"

The students behind Jay couldn't help but snicker knowingly.

[miasmaghoul]

Considering the idea of quintessence ghouls being able to make themselves invisible. They can just sort of...shimmer out of view if they focus their power enough. Like how Swiss can melt into shadow, quintessence ghouls can bend and fold light to vanish themselves. Not an ability they make common knowledge, of course, but they all use it in different ways.

Imagine Omega, always at Terzo's side even when he can't be seen. A protector, a stalwart and silent companion devoted to keeping his beloved Papa safe from any who would dare to threaten. It makes them think that Terzo has power beyond what any Papa has had before - how else could you explain someone being thrown across a room with no more than a wave of his gloved hand? It's exhausting for Omega, requires a bit of a recovery period, but that's alright. Terzo cares for him in the aftermath every time, just as devoted to his ghoul as Omega is to his Papa. The only other person who knows of this skill is Sister Imperator, and Omega likes to keep it that way.

Imagine Aether, learning the same trick from his mentor but using it more to keep himself sane. It's not something he does frequently, he finds it incredibly draining and has too many responsibilities to make it a common occurrence. But some days the abbey is just too loud, and there's nowhere for him to go without being pestered by siblings, clergy members and anyone else who's decided they need his attention. So he just...disappears for a while. He could be sitting on the couch plain as day and no one would be the wiser. It's incredibly freeing, on the rare occasion he puts it to use. He does it even less post-retirement, most of his magickal resources poured into healing others, but once in a while he'll still indulge. Sneak off to the library for a quiet cup of tea and dissappear between the stacks for a bit. Copia, Dew and Aeon always know where to find him, though - but they don't go searching. They all know that, if Aether needs isolation, there is no reason to interrupt.

Aeon, though, is a different breed of quint.

Curious as a kitten and with more power than he knows what to do with, he frequently uses his invisibility for more nefarious purposes. Sneaks into the human wing for panty raids, scours the kitchens when he gets too high but has already hit his snack quota, even wanders into the parts of the abbey that are off-limits to everyone but the higher-ups.

His favorite thing, though, is his ability to be a nasty little freak with no one being the wiser. It makes him the worst sort of voyeur, sneaky and with no regard for privacy. He peeps on everyone, through cracked doorframes, keyholes and open windows, in plain sight but still unseen.

One day, mid-afternoon, he hears a familiar series of soft but drawn out moans. Aeon cloaks himself immediately, already chubbing up and giving himself a shameless grope. It's not like anyone can see, after all. He pads down the hall to find Rain's door halfway open, those lovely sounds pouring through the gap. It's accompanied by what can only be called a rhythmic squelching sound, and Aeon licks his lips as he peeks around the doorframe.

Where he finds Rain, knelt in front of the ornate floor-length mirror that lives by his closet, naked as the day he was summoned and flushed right down his pale chest. He moves like water, spread thighs tensing and relaxing as he rides what Aeon recognizes as one of Swiss' preferred dildos. Rain has his tail wrapped around the base, hands free to explore every inch of himself. He's beautiful always, but like this - admiring his own reflection while pinching his lovely pink nipples, elegant fingers tracing the lines of his own throat, sliding down to give his cock slow pulls that have him leaking a puddle onto the hardwood floor - Rain isn't just beautiful. He's lust itself, sin incarnate, and Aeon has to get closer.

He leans just inside the door, in a warm patch of sunlight that paints Rain in golden hues. Hard as a rock and pulsing in his boxers, Aeon presses the heel of his hand to his crotch and starts to hump. Matches the rolls of his hips to Rain's slow bounces, picturing his own cock sliding into that slick hole and biting his lip when a soft moan threatens to escape. He may be unseen, but he can certainly still be heard.

Rain's clearly been at this for a while, judging by the sweat glistening along his brow and making his luscious curls stick to the back of his neck, and soon enough he starts to bounce faster. Little punched out grunts fill the air, the slick sound of his hand and hole making Aeon's balls ache, and he feels himself drool down his chin when Rain gasps. Leans back on one hand so he can sink down fully onto that thick toy, getting it deep inside, just where he needs it. He's panting, hand flying over his cock, and Aeon has to lean harder against the wall lest his own knees give out.

With a half dozen more tugs, Rain's mouth drops open and they both watch him squirt his load all over that shiny surface. Aeon's right there with him, biting his knuckles until he tastes iron as he soaks a stain into his undies. He shivers through it, eyes crossing, cussing to himself when he watches Rain reach out to drag two fingers through the mess he made. With a soft chuckle he licks it up, sighing happily, and Aeon lets his eyes slip shut while he catches his breath.

"Want a taste?"

Aeon's eyes shoot open, jaw going tense, and in slow motion he watches the shadows in the corner by the window coalesce into something solid.

Swiss leisurely strides over to the mirror, the bulge in his jeans incredibly obvious, and takes hold of Rain's wrist. Laps up the last drops dribbling down his fingers as Rain leans in to nuzzle at his straining cock. Swiss' rusty purr kicks up as he sinks his own fingers into Rain's hair, scratching at his sweaty nape.

"Did such a good job, angelfish," Swiss lilts, Rain's tail giving a happy little swish as it unwinds from the dildo still inside him. "You just love bein' watched, huh?"

Rain hums his agreement, lazily mouthing at the thick outline of Swiss through his pants. Wraps an arm around his thigh so he can really rub his face all over it. Aeon heaves a silent sigh of relief; as much as he would love to watch Rain swallow Swiss down, he's all sticky in his shorts and getting less and less comfy as the moments pass. He straightens up, lets the debaucherous sight of the pair of them burn itself into his brain, and finally tiptoes back towards the hall.

"Leaving so soon?"

Aeon freezes, whole body flushing hot and cold at Swiss' words. It takes him a thousand years to look back over his shoulder, and he finds golden eyes sparkling with intent fixed on his invisible form. Aeon gawps at him, and Swiss grins. Rain doesn't seem bothered in the slightest, dragging his tongue up Swiss' fly.

"You're not as slick as you think, kid," Swiss chuckles, dark and with just enough of an edge to give Aeon goosebumps. Rain giggles, crooks a finger at his hidden form, and Aeon whimpers.

"Who else knows?" His voice cracks when he asks, and Swiss barks out a laugh.

"Lock the door and get over here," Swiss orders him in lieu of an answer, "but I don't want to see you until that cute little dick is nice and hard again."

Oh, he's in so much trouble.

[gremlingottoosilly]

That Unwanted Animal [COD Fantasy AU] CursedKnight!Ghost x fem!Reader

Ghost was cursed ever since his king helped him get back to life from his grave. A stench of death, strong and inescapable, renders him unable to find a woman who will be willing to bed him. What will happen when he finally finds a perfect mate? CW and Tags: Dub-con, power imbalance, Medieval Fantasy AU, knight!Ghost, servant!Reader, sex work, brothels, dub-con kissing and touching, obsessive Ghost, dark Ghost, basically Ghost finds a girl and forces her to be his, Ghost is a half-dead resurrected knight, soft reader, submissive Reader.

AO3 Word Count: 2426 Ch.1

The Knight is a weird one. 

He is looking at you – studying you with his eyes, ever prying, even seeing. He never blinks and you think he doesn’t need it – a walking corpse wouldn’t care to keep his eyes wet, to let his head down and take a few deep breaths to relieve himself. Then, again, a real walking corpse wouldn’t need a maiden to claim and take, a warm body to bring relief to his manhood. You wouldn’t be so sure that he is a walking corpse, a resurrected warrior – the legends are often false, after all, and wild guesses of prostitutes are not to be trusted. 

Not like you would know either way – the only path to reveal his not-death is to smell the rot from his skin and, well, it’s out of your reach. The sickness of a few years ago rendered you completely unable to smell anything – you aren’t sure if it’s a blessing in disguise now. Ghost – his name, you think, you heard, the whispers and gossip from the girls who worked alongside you – have been watching you sleep the whole night after he claimed you for the first time. You know because, well, you were watching him too, unable to fall asleep. Not with the gaze that made your blood freeze in your veins. Not with the knowledge that this man can just suck the life out of you, like he did with many of his enemies. You don’t know about this fact, of course – but you don’t want to come and try if the gossips are true. You feel sore, down there. It should be normal for a woman who works in a place like this – but you weren’t a prostitute. Never got interest from men who will pay a lot for a night with a beautiful woman, you were content with simply serving the patrons and the highest bidding girls. Turns out, the sex is…weird. Wet. Painful, but not quite. The Knight was generous in his offers, even as you tried to convince him you didn’t deserve any of it. That you were here just to serve tea, not to… “Lay still, luv. Do you not know what to do?” He pushed a pillow under your hips, making your back arch like a cat in heat. You were presented to him – involuntarily, with his large hands crowding your waist and putting you right where he wanted. Your legs spread and your womanhood glossy from arousal – you knew your fair share of what it comes when a man and a woman share the bed, but you never managed to get into it. To get a man to put something in you, that it. You felt foolish ever coming to the room he rented all for himself. For not running away the second you were put here like a lamb to the slaughter. “I’m not a c…courtesan, kind sir, this is all a…” He pushed his mouth on yours – his mask lifted just barely to let you see the light stubble and scars on his broad, chiseled jaw – before you even managed to finish. His tongue went all out, licking and sucking, making you whimper in the kiss that wasn’t your first, but surely took the crown of being the most memorable one. Surely, cursed knights had no idea about common courtesy. “Good. Wouldn’t hear jabs from Johnny then.” You don’t know who that was but, for some reason, you felt like a dog suddenly brushed against your hand. Perhaps, the lack of air from the steamy kisses made you delirious” But, it was before. Now, with his head propped on one of his hands as he was lying on his side, observing you quietly, like a predator in hiding. His other hand is caressing your shoulder, sometimes going further to play with your hair – surely, he didn’t care for the possibility of waking you up. Maybe, he knows you aren’t sleeping. Maybe, he got his fill and would let you go now. — You need to sleep. The road to my estate is a long one. You drop your act immediately, knowing it is pointless. Perhaps, you should have tried to be an actor instead of a brothel servant – would give you much more useful skills. — Your estate..? Maybe, he was so impressed with your tea-making skills, that he would invite you to be his maid. You may have lost your virtue, but it’s not like you’re interested in marriage anyway. You can live a quiet life, not dealing with anything too harsh, while receiving a nice salary working for the knight. Honorable job, stable job. Something that you should strive for. — You aren’t a courtesan. It sounded like a statement – and besides, you were telling him this before. There is no way he could have mistaken your common, grey clothing with rich gowns that expensive courtesans are wearing. Your manners are off too – the man would have to be blind, deaf and stupid to think that they would send you to him as a girl for entertainment, not servitude. — I’m not, sir. 

— Do you have family? 

— Do you? He laughs at your unexpected bravery. You close your eyes, expecting something – a kick in the face, perhaps, as many nobles love to do with servants who aren’t polite enough. Maybe, you wait for him to denounce you and finally leave you alone. Maybe, you wait for everything to just be a dream, a beautiful one with steamy scenes straight up from the romantic novels you sneaked out to read. But Ghost is as real as a bed you are sitting on. His hands are on your face, but not in a way you’d come to expect from a man of his position. He is caressing your skin, playing with hair that fell out on your cheeks – and you swear you can see his eyes crinkle with a smile when you struggle to maintain eye contact, your head suddenly feeling heavy and sleepy. Perhaps, the night activities did wear you off. Not enough to make you lower your guars though. — Yes, luv. You’re going to be a part of it. He sounds…sad. Broken, almost. You try to remember all of the rumors you heard about the undead knight, but the only thing you’re capable of thinking about is his resurrection – surely, it would mean he doesn’t have a living family anymore, right? For some bizarre, incredibly weird reason, you reach out for his hand. Not with your palm, too exhausted to actually lift it – but with your face, tilting your head to the side as you press your forehead against his hand in a cat-like manner. His fingers get lost in playing with your hair immediately, and you fight the desire to purr. What a weird sequence of events he brought upon you. He pats your head for a few minutes, allowing you two to sit in silence. You quite like it. — You can’t marry a commoner. 

— This isn’t a position for your opinion, doll. — But the madam… — Your madam can push your debt up her snobby arse. I would be bloody glad to end this whole place in a fire. You laugh involuntarily. Surely, he means it – just one look at his eyes reveals a man deeply wounded by the fact, that not even the amount of money he has or the status he holds as the greatest knight of the kingdom will but him affection. Some things cannot be done even for money – and not a single woman in the brothel would lower herself to sleeping with a walking corpse, resurrected by the most evil power in the continent. It’s a good thing you can’t sense the stench of death – and to you, Ghost is just a man. A man with big hands, cold body, and little crinkles in his eyes when he looks at you, so weak and whimpering. A man with money and power, who can get you away from this place. Surely, changing one cage for the other won’t make much of a difference – but you can trade freedom for comfort, especially when the alternative neither brings your freedom nor comfort. There isn’t a single woman who would change her place with you. You find solace in that. 

— You can’t just take me away. All of my life is here. — Bloody shitty life you got ‘ere. You will be better off with me. 

— As your conqubine? 

— As my wife. 

Oh. You can’t exactly argue with this proposal. *** He rides you on his horse for the whole day – and it isn’t at all romantic as you thought it would be based on the books. No one has ever written just how smelly horses are – how scary of a creature riders are mounting, and how hard it is to sit on your ass for a whole day. For some reason, you were expecting a carriage – but a lone knight wouldn’t be traveling with an escort, you think. No matter how much of an influence he has over this country. 

You were thinking about running away for a few times – when he was making stops to let the horse rest and would slip you on the ground, allowing your agonizing limbs to stretch out a bit. You could escape easily when he got distracted with something – but then you thought about forests, bandits, and the trajectory that your life has taken. You may not like being a pried possession of a dead man, but he by far isn’t the cruelest one out here. Many other patrons of the whore house are much, much worse. 

He slips you on his lap when you finally get to a place where you can eat and sleep in peace – his mansion is as big as they come, you think, but the desire to explore is cut short by his hands on your hips. Reminding you of your place like you didn’t already get it the first time. You stir in your place, uncomfortable when he is pushing you down on his throbbing erection – how this could even ride a horse if the only thing on his mind was your soft body pressed against his, your helpless form clinging to him like he was the only protector here. 

Ghost is supposed to be on the good side – not an Empire soldier, at the very least, he isn’t taking crying innocent trophies from the battlefield and throwing them in his harem. He doesn’t even have a bloody harem, all the women – and men alike – disgusted by the stench of death he cannot wash away no matter the hours he spends in the bath. But you, pretty maiden waiting for him at this brothel of yours, aren’t like others. Maybe it’s a blessing – maybe the gods finally answered all of his threats and sent him the prettiest angel they had. 

No matter, he is still going to make sure to use you properly. Slowly, Ghost picks up food and feeds you – and if he can judge, you aren’t exactly enjoying the feeling of his fingers in your mouth. Probing, touching – you whimper when he pushes a piece of fruit past your lips. Poor thing, he thinks – you need to learn how to treat him with respect. With love, even more, as he wants for you to like him no matter how hard it could be for a dumb little you. — You shouldn’t feed me like this, sir. You’re so polite, so king – the first time a maiden was king to someone like him. The first time a girl isn’t screaming in his hold, trashing, and crying as she feels his hands roaming up her body. Gods, you’re perfect – he can’t wait to introduce you, finally shutting Soap for good. Finally getting something good for himself, after all the years of pure shit. Just wait – he can make an honest woman out of you. Give you estate, money, give you his status and the treatment of a royalty. If Price would feel generous, you’d be a duchess in no time. And, oh he knows, Price will be generous. 

— Why not? 

Just one look at your open mouth, glossy from drool, at your trembling lips, made him harder than before. He was denied mortal pleasures for so long, he forgot how soft women are – how pretty they look while sitting on his lap. No woman would approach him after the damn Emperor decided to resurrect him – but you don’t have a choice on the matter. But you don’t behave like you want to run away, at least. He wants to think that you will like it here – not because he truly cares about your opinion, but because you’d become sweeter. — It would be a waste. I can’t taste much of anything. 

Ah. The lack of smell – he remembers. Poor girl, he thinks, not only did you spend your life serving the courtesans and patrons at the brothel, but you also did so without taking any pleasure in nice fragrances or tasty food. Such a miserable girl – tough luck that you ended up with him, where he physically cannot feel pity for you. 

— Hm. There is a downside to your affliction.

— Many people would consider the lack of smell itself a downside. — Not me. You’re perfect. No one has even told you you’re perfect. Not like this, at least. You see a jaded soldier sitting you on his lap, his hands are holding the fat of your hips and kneading it like dough, but his eyes are…warm. Not kind, not gentle, but with the level of obsession that you never thought you’d see in this day and age. You press your head against his chest in a pure instinct – not wanting to be too harsh on your new husband. Not even daring to act like a spoiled brat, even though you were never one to begin with. 

He is a lonely man, you know. Angry and cynical, killed more people than you ever known for your whole life – but it all seems so distant, so unreal now. The killings and the wars and resurrections are something from the children’s books. From dark romance novels that you were reading, not from reality. Reality is that you’re sitting on the lap of a man who took you from working in the worst place you could have. Reality is, that you’re sitting on the lap of a very sad, tortured man who might need something nice. Who might give you something nice in return. 

Hm. 

You might like the sound of that. 

[hellsslibrary]

hiiii could I get an nsfw alphabet with satan from obey me? :D

I love that little angry cat sm<3

#a.n. : I may or may not have gotten too carried away with this, so be warned, dears... And someone asked me for a bunch of SMAUs, so I'll probably do them hehe.

MASTERLIST IS HERE.

!!Warnings: top!dom!male!reader, sub!bottom!Satan, praise kink, easy pet play, intimacy, mention of many kinks with —fication and where there is someone else in sex in the "NO" part, oral sex, tiny mention of rimming, safe and unsafe sex, a description of sperm and his dick is a little strange(I just find it cool that it might be somehow different for demons, but I wasn’t really into it... Yet), tiny mention of breeding.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

SO... I could talk about this for hours, but he's probably one of the fastest to bounce back after sex, even if you've literally fucked the life out of him. And I think he would be quite independent? That is, he doesn't really need anything from you other than a few reassuring words, compliments and maybe a glass of water (although he will be very grateful if you do anything else). It’s just that he is quite capable of cleaning up on his own, and then washing himself (and you if you want), but if you insist on doing it yourself, he won’t say a word against it.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s

If we talk about himself, then it seems to me that this is his brain (forgive me, please, but not sincerely). Like, he is very proud of his knowledge and thinks that this is the most important thing in life! And he's more than capable of applying that knowledge in a sexual manner, too.

You? Hands, probably. It doesn't matter which part. It doesn't matter if they're muscular or skinny or have scars or whatever. He just loves your hands, especially your palms. He can intertwine with your fingers, look at the lines on the inside of your palm, he absolutely enjoys the way you squeeze his thighs/waist/neck/arms and well... Yes, they look attractive.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

He's picky. And he's a low-key pervert. Most likely, he will want you to wear a condom. But if you beg him enough or he's in a place where he just wants it fast, he'll want you to cum inside him, even if it doesn't happen often. Also loves it when you cum on his face, but will NEVER tell you about it or suggest it until you suggest it or accidentally cum on his face and see his reaction.

About his sperm? It seems to me that its consistency is quite normal. Not too runny, but not too thick either. It has a green sheen mixed with creamy white... And it most likely tastes absolutely nothing, well, tasteless.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I didn't know what to choose, but imagine... He would never agree to completely public sex or sex in general where someone can see you completely during the process, because he becomes vulnerable, he shows you the side, which he doesn’t show to anyone. BUT!!! I really think he would really like the idea of ​​being heard (especially by someone you know, but we won't point fingers). He secretly wants his moans, sobs, whimpers (maybe even screams) to be heard, so that everyone can hear that you make him feel good. So that everyone can hear your sounds, your praise only for him, your thrusts only for him, your everything only for him. But he will never agree to this, nah.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

It seems to me that he has little, if any, physical experience. He was angry at everyone and everything before you came into his life, after all. But mentally? Oh god, you'll never realize he didn't have much experience (or any at all) unless you ask him about it. So yes, he knows what he's doing.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

Well... Missionary? Yes. This may be the most common, most used position, but that's what he likes. He can see your face and so can you. He can touch you everywhere and so can you. He feels you close, feels your every breath, hears your every sound, sees how your body tenses from your movements. It's very intimate for him. And he can intertwine your fingers!!! Charming.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Him and 'goofiness' in the same sentence? It sounds funny, but it's not. I think he's completely focused on the act of somehow making a joke or doing something funny. He can't even think of doing something like that, but he'll laugh if you do it.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

It's not necessarily the cleanest, but it's okay down there. He gets his hair cut periodically, so there is practically no hair there. I think the color is absolutely the same as above, maybe even lighter. And I think his hair there is not spiky at all? He's a prickly guy, but he has soft hair in both places. :p

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

HE'S SO ROMANTIC, FUCK. You understand, right? He himself is very soft (towards you, of course), and he absolutely loves to create some kind of intimate, loving atmosphere. And he has so many references from books that it gets crazier every time. But he is also ready to dwell on a little romance, like whispering about love to each other, holding hands, or just being close (until the beast awakens in you or him).

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

I don't think he really needs it. He doesn't find it too exciting or helpful, so he'll just take a cold shower or call you if you're free... But what if you're not around, but you tease him somehow? He will do it. Many times. More than amount of fingers you have. More than teeth... More than your every hair... And you'll die once you're within his reach again, but it will be nice.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Definitely a kink for praise (maybe even for praising him higher than he is, almost worship). He just wants to make sure that he is good, that he is the best, that he does everything perfectly. Definitely easy pet play! Both ways too! He will be happy to put on ears, a collar, a tail for you (maybe something else, if you wish). And he will be absolutely finished if you do the same and then fuck him. Maybe sex in risky places? For example, in his room, where a book or even a stack can fall on you at any moment, and you will continue to have sex like rabbits (or Lucifer’s office, but this is not so fun... And most likely murderous).

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Bed. Yours most likely. He’s just more comfortable and safe there (if there’s a lock on your door and the other 6 demons aren’t breaking in on you 24/7, yes). Besides the bed? He likes sex against a wall/closet/door or something. He likes standing sex, where you hold him up against something vertically.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

I think he's the hardest to excite out of the cast as a whole. But, to be honest, he is a simple man... Some intimate touches or words from you are more than enough for him to get aroused. Nothing too risque or unusual, just you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

As I indicated earlier, threesomes or more (public sex, cuckolding and similar things too)! Besides? Bimbofification, sissification, dollification, yes. And most likely, he doesn’t like breeding, but he won’t say a word if you ONLY want to TALK about the fact that he could get pregnant.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He absolutely loves sucking you off more than the other way around. Just the weight of your cock on his tongue, the taste of you, the way you react... It turns him on. Turns him on a lot. Physically inexperienced, mentally a whore (no worse than Asmo♡, of course).

Although he loves it when you suck him off too! It feels good and he likes to know that you want to please him, even if he insists it's not necessary! Speaking of rimming, by the way... I don't think he would be a fan, hehe, but why not. Although he won't cum from this, no.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

I think he would really like the slow, sensual rhythm. That rhythm where you take your time, where you enjoy every inch of each other's skin, where you can feel each other's every reaction and just lose yourself in the experience.

Although, if he rides you... Say goodbye to your dick, man, wish it only good luck. He comes off on you at times like these, so it's going to be fast, hard and merciless.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

No, he's not a fan of that at all. As I said just above, he likes to stretch out the moment and enjoy the leisurely time. But if you have a high libido or you just really want to have sex with him, but you don’t have time, then he won’t refuse. But he won’t offer it himself.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He fantasizes about it a lot, but really doesn't like taking risks. He loves to experiment a little with you, try new things, it's always good to discuss each other's desires even if you don't like them, just to know in advance! But nothing too risqué or kinky, that's not his cup of tea.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He's a demon. He has great stamina. But he guesses the moment when you can no longer do it and stops there. Can last for several hours without getting tired, but likes to stop for a few good rounds.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Apart from the collars and obvious ears and tail, then no. He is not a big fan of toys, as he thinks that you satisfy each other very well. But he will keep and use anything you offer him or buy him.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Oh, he loves it. This happens very rarely as he is not patient when it comes to you. But when he wants and can, it will be one of the sweetest tortures for you. You will be torn between the desire to continue or get to the main thing.

He doesn't particularly like being teased back though (obviously). But he is completely willing to endure for you as long as you want.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not the loudest, not the quietest. Maybe a very tight six out of ten... He will moan, groan, maybe even whimper, but most of the time it's in your ear or in your pillow, but even without that he's pretty average.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

You once had sex while he was reading a book to you. And he managed to read it without stuttering, only pausing to catch his breath when you sped up or he neared orgasm. You took it personally and thought that you could very well change it... He lost his voice after the next time (not that he minded, since it was short-lived and his voice was clearly the most insignificant problem while he could barely sit upright).

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Nice 5 and a half inches, still soft. And almost 7 when he is erect. Completely straight from head to base. He has a pair of green veins that run vertically from the very bottom to the top. And his head has a slight green tint. (Someday I'll write headcanons for characters' dicks in their demonic forms, someday...)

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Practically zero. He is absolutely not exciting until it is you. The same person who can stand watching the sexiest porn he likes or something like that and not get aroused. But when is it you? He's already hard as a rock.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Doesn't need sleep after sex as he doesn't get too tired, but will sleep with you if it's night or you ask. Usually he falls asleep immediately after you finish cleaning and he is on your chest, but he pretends and waits for you to fall asleep, and then falls asleep himself, making sure that everything is in order.

[genshin-side-piece]

This is inspired by the anon from the otter one - imagine just getting sleepy so you go to sleep on the couch and wake up in Neuveliette's arms

I'm not saying I want to nap on Neuvi's thighs, but I would jump at the chance.

In a post archon Fontaine, Neuvillette often finds that his schedule is a bit more flexible than it was in the days before the disaster. Furina's independence, as well as his own, leaves him with more time to do as he pleases. It instills a joyeux de vivre in him that he had sorrowfully lacked for many years. 

He embraces the unique Fontainian ideology of relaxation and pleasure; in moderation of course. The country still needs to be governed, the paperwork still needs to be handled, but when there is time for recreation, Neuvillette seizes it with both hands and he doesn't let go. That means trying new things, seeing new places, or just spending his afternoons in the comfort of you.

In this new world, Neuvillette has made the discovery that you like to take naps in the afternoons. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recalled knowing that. Before the disaster, there had been the odd chance that Neuvillette could slip away early. The paperwork hadn't been heavy that day or the case he had been set to try hadn't gone ahead. The reason wasn't especially important. The opportunity to be with you was all he wanted and when it came, he happily availed himself of it. If he was lucky, he would return home to find you in one of your many spots, peacefully napping in either the sun or near the fire if it was cold.

Your relationship with him had been vastly different then. The two of you had yet to reach the accord where you would allow him to be in the same space as you. Because of that, the temptation to be near you, to touch you overrode any common sense he had when it came to allowing you to sleep undisturbed. Instead, Neuvillette would try to squeeze himself in next to you. The effort was clumsy and more often than not, you woke up before he could ever get you in position, but there were a few blissful seconds where he had you as he wanted you. Then, it had been enough. He had those rare moments with you, just as he had the night. Between the two it had been enough to see him through the long days that followed. 

Since the disaster had struck, your relationship with him and the silent agreement you had with each other had changed. While you were resistant to the idea of Neuvillette being so near, so often, you would on occasion be comfortable enough with him that you would fall asleep next to him or wake up curled into his side. His previous clumsiness when it came to moving you in your sleep had been replaced with a schooled technique that allowed you to remain blissfully unaware of him sliding in beside you. If anything he found that you tended to snuggle into him a little after he’d done so, if only to chase his warmth. He treasured those moments with you. In his mind he could pretend that the wall between you didn’t exist. That you were his and he was yours and the world around you existed only for this moment. 

For your part in all of this, you too embrace the new Neuvillette. His curiosity for the world around him resulted in an expansion of your privileges that hadn't existed in the world before the disaster. He liked to take you on long walks through the countryside with him or he would bring home new foods or new fashions for you to try. The change in monotony is a welcomed thing in your world. It added a sense of normalcy that hadn’t existed previously. You could for a time forget that you weren’t his captive and he your captor. You could lay next to him on the sofa, resting your head against his thigh as you listened to him read the latest detective novel or he shared the tamest of gossip with you. The dulcet tone of his voice was such that you could easily drift off into a dreamless sleep, content in the knowledge that when you woke up you would be safe and sound. 

[ahoycaptainautumn]

Fated Mates Part 3

Synopsis: you, a vengeful vampire slayer, cross paths with the devious and handsome Astarion. Instead of a stake through the heart, Astarion finds something he thought impossible for vampire spawn. A mate.

Astarion learns more on vampiric mates while you do odd jobs in town. Scraping up enough money your merry gang gets to rest well tonight. Though there’s only one problem, there’s only one bed.

It took another two days before your merry band finally made it to the first town. More hours of Gale’s snores and sleep talking of magical items. Or the way Karlach randomly set fire to something now twice in her sleep. Wyll played some tune non stop on a ukulele you swear just to annoy you. Not to mention the bickering and fighting when they were awake. After getting no sleep you demanded to the group that you would all pitch in and do some odd jobs to afford a stay at a tavern for a night. Anything to give you a chance at relaxation and a soft mattress. Everyone agreed to meet at the town square at the beginning of sundown. The hours before that were up to each entirely.

You first went into the town square in hopes of finding someone to offer you an easy quest for a fee. Perusing the marketplace you find a dressmaker eager to find someone for help.

“My my my! You’re perfect for the job! I was just in need of some help, thank the Gods! I need you to run to this store and grab the fabric on hold for Marteen, then meet me at my shop after the market closes.” He hands you a wrinkled piece of paper with the name of the shop on it. You nod your thanks and head out to said shop.

Astarion immediately abandoned the idea of doing some side quest and instead goes to find the local bookkeeper. The town was quaint in size but he hoped large enough to have some of a selection on what he was looking for. 200 years as a vampire and still his knowledge of vampirism was slim to none. Most of it from passing mouths. Fellow spawn were more than likely in his similar predicament and just as naive to the ways of the vampire world. Anyone higher on the food chain wasn’t keen on educating. Here and there in his travels for prey he heard whispers of things. Knowledge of vampire mates was mostly rumor, common gossip with no real evidence. Astarion had only met one other vampire to have met his mate. At the time the bond seemed weak to him. A cause for a future exploitation. A bother. He never believed himself to be plagued with such nonsense and had not thought to ask more of it. Astarion made his way up the old brick library steps and into the establishment. Years of neglect were evident in every crevice of the place. Spiderwebs littered every corner and shelves of books were caked with years of dust. Astarion tried his best to hide his disgust and made his way to the front desk. An old human woman sat slouched in her chair dozing off. Astarion cleared his throat, waking the woman. She fixed her overly large glasses before squinting up at Astarion. He gives his most award winning smile in return.

“How can I help you stranger?” She croaks.

“I was wondering if you had anything on a special type of creature? A vampire perhaps?” Astarion asks nicely. Her bushy brows furrow in confusion.

“Sorry, things of that nature need special clearance given by the governor. Something about too many impressionable kids trying to bite one another.” She waves her hand away as she finishes talking. She goes to turn away from him as Astarions hand darts across the desk. His thumb and forefinger caress the old woman’s chin as he gently turns her head back to him. Astarion leans close, breath mingling with the librarians. With his best bedroom eyes Astarion pleads once again.

“Please dear? I swear I shan’t be more than a moment.” The woman’s face lights up beet red as she flusters under his touch.

“I mean- I- well I mean- if if if you really won’t be more than a second than I guess it’s okay.” She stutters out.

“Perfect. Just point me in the direction, love.” Astarion purrs. The woman scuffles from behind her desk and grabs a set of keys from her pocket. Astarion follows as she leads him further into the library towards an old vault door. With a turn of a key she guides him to the shelving labeled V.

“Please don’t be long, my boss will be around any moment!” She giggles behind her wrinkled hand. Her blush still evident as she walks away. Astarions face drops back to a resting neutral once she’s out of sight and he makes his way through the novels. There are only a few books pertaining to vampires. His fingers slide over titles of “How to Properly Slay a Vampire” and “Vampire Bites for Medical Use”. None contain anything about mates. A growl of frustration leaves him before he’s manically ripping through books across the shelves. Books and scrolls fly through the air before Astarions rage stops in its tracks. Mid throw Astarion reads the title of the small book in his hand. “Mates in Five Different Species: Fate Driven Partnership”. Astarion just about rips the book open before he hears the patter of the woman’s footsteps coming closer. He rushes out the door and slams it behind him. The woman jumps at his sudden movements just outside the chambers.

“You have been so lovely, thank you. I must go, good day!” Astarion shouts over his shoulder before dashing outside. The woman’s shriek at his mess is the last he hears as he makes for the door and rounds the corner. Finding a secluded alleyway, Astarion makes himself comfortable on top of a wooden crate and cracks open the book.

Vampiric Mates:

Vampire mating is a rarity within the species. Only about an average of 31% of vampires have mates. Of that 31% only 3% of their mates were non-vampire in manner. Courtship of mates in vampires comes within three stages: sight, taste, consummation. The beginnings of the mating correspond with the first mutual stare between the partners. Mating is then felt in its entirety with a touch of either lips or genitalia. Finally, the mate bond is accepted for eternity with consummation of the partnership.

Astarions eyebrows shoot up as he reads. He had already completed two damned steps without even realizing.

Though the “feeling” of a mate may differ slightly from vampire to vampire, similarities are shown throughout each recorded mating. Feelings of a something similar to a cord “tightening” is usually the most common sign. Feelings of falling, fainting or loss of emotions momentarily have also been recorded. It is believed to be innate to each vampire to recognize a mate once seen.

Astarion thinks back to the shared bargain kiss you had made a few nights earlier. The feeling of a band wrapping and tightening in his core. The way he felt his stomach drop. He had thought himself nauseous from not drinking enough but in reality he knew he was denying it. Denying the feeling he felt with that first look. Something so ingrained biologically he couldn’t shoo it away. He flips to the section labeled “Vampire Mates: Other Species Mate”.

Mates of a vampire not already afflicted with vampirism upon meeting may be at a disadvantage. Though similar feelings may be present they will not be as strong as they are for the vampire mate. The mate also may not feel the same feelings of possessiveness and aching as the vampire mate will. Non vampire mates may not inherently realize what has happened without further education.

Astarion reads the last sentence several times over. You didn’t even know. He could continue on this little adventure and you would never be the wiser of what was unfolding between the two of you. A large part of Astarion was glad, gleeful even, to not have to worry about this further. But a small, quiet and forgotten part of his brain felt remorse at the thought. Astarion was about to continue to read through the entire section before he noticed the beginnings of the sunset. Realizing he would be meeting back with your party shortly, Astarion leaps from his seat on the crate and moves through the alleyways. He knows if he shows up empty handed you won’t let him hear the end of it. He knows your still deciding on whether or not you want to plant your stake right into his heart anyhow. Moving through side streets and back alleys Astarion moves with grace between drunks and gamblers. Swift and nimble, his hands dip into their pockets and empty them of any useful change. With a bit of money to his name, Astarion takes a main road back to the square. Though an image to his right stops him in his tracks, you.

A bit earlier -

Fabrics in hand, you huff down the street to Marteens shop. The fabric store was on the very outskirts of town. Nothing more than an old witch with a spindle, calling it a shop was a bit excessive. Though the lady was kind enough, you spent far too much time to get there as well as listen to the old woman gab as she got your order together. You finally step up to Marteen’s Dress Shop and softly knock on the door. Large floor to ceiling windows show the interior from the front. Mannequins dressed in beautiful floor length gowns adorn the left and right side. A small podium sits in the middle awaiting a blushing bride to try on her future gown. Marteen opens the door and beams at you.

“Please come in, come in!” He waves you in. He helps unload the several bits of fabric from your grasp. Luxurious rolls of dark blood red fabric, black lace, and golden trimmings leave your hands. You help bring everything else into the shop. Marteen unloads the rolls onto a long table next to the front podium. You stand next to him admiring the cloths.

“It really is beautiful.” You whisper, more to the fabrics than the man. He smiles at you as he grabs a mostly made dress from his back room. The same fabric is made into a long gown in his arms. A tight black bodice corsets the top as gold accents the sides. Crimson fabric layers on top of eachother at the bottom as it bellows out into a sweep gown.

“Before you go, could I ask you one more job? I’ll throw in a few extra coin!” Marteen asks.

“Sure, what can I get you next?” You ask.

“This dress, it’s for my daughter. It’s nearly complete save the sleeves and a bit of patching in the back. You look about her size, mind being my model? I’d ask her, but it’s a bit of a surprise.” You really hadn’t expected that. It had been a very very long time since you worn something so exquisite. Back before your parents had been murdered. Back when your father threw elegant balls for nothing more than to fill the manor with good company and better wine. Back before life became what it is. You shake the thought before they take hold.

“Sure why not.” You shrug.

Cinched into the velvet fabric feels like a dream against your skin. Marteen expertly sewed beautiful bell bottom sleeves with black lace endings onto each arm. Gold is hemmed in the sides to accentuate your curves. Flowing black ribbon ties in the bodice tightly. Marteen smiles broadly, proud of himself. You do a small twirl at his command and watch the fabric flow with your movements. You can’t help the giggle that takes over you as you sway.

“It’s perfect! Absolutely perfect!” Marteen glows.

“It is! It’s absolutely perfe-“ your words die half way through your throat when through the front glass you see a gawking Astarion. Shame and anger sweep over your momentary glee. You clench your hands and jaw as you stare him down. A smug look takes over his face as he watches you. Marteen comes and looks over your shoulder.

“Oh, is that your betrothed?” He asks innocently. You can’t help the sarcastic laugh that leaves your lips.

“As if! Never in a million lifetimes.” You reply coldly, eyes narrowing. Marteen gives you a puzzled look.

“By the way he looks at you in that dress, I would have thought otherwise.” Marteen tosses over his shoulder.

—

Astarion had good intentions, brilliant and easy intentions. Seduce you, con you, but never fall for you. To overcome the illness of being mated. He was determined, arrogant even in his belief that this mating was nothing more than a silly joke from the universe. He could get over a few fleeting feelings, he had endured much worse in centuries of slavery and solitude. But those resolutions all but melt away at the sight of you. He watches you twirl in a dress fit for a vampiric queen. Blood red accentuating your body, long fabric flowing with your movements. An easy smile gracing your lips. That familiar coil in his chest begged his attention once again. An ache fills his long canines to sink into the soft nape of your neck. All he could do was stare at your form, the way your lips looked so mesmerizing in that easy smile. An animalistic urge shook him with the thought that that smile should be for him, not some gown maker. The thought vanished as quickly as it comes as you find his stare and match it with a look that could kill. Gods, this was going to be harder than he thought.

-

Redressed, you collect your payment and meet Astarion out in the front of the shop. He gives you a fake saddened look.

“Here I was out doing honest work and you’re trying on gowns. Really, (y/n) you outta be ashamed.” He tuts at you. You wag your finger in his face.

“I was doing work blood sucker! Besides, there isn’t a way in the 9 realms of hell you did any honest work.” You accuse him. At your words Astarion pulls the money he had collected from his pocket. Your finger stops mid wag as you look at the coins in his hand.

“Now now now, nothing to say little killer? What will the others think when I tell them?” Astarion muses. He starts to make his way towards the center of town. It takes you a moment to catch up with him.

“You are not to tell them anything! Do you hear me, or so help me-“ you threaten.

“Or what, drive a stake through my heart? Last time you tried that you ended up kissing me. Really you need to learn better threats.” Astarion teases. You swear you see red. You just about open your mouth before Astarions face comes smack dab in front of yours.

“Besides dear, we both know you need me more than you want to kill me.” He whispers to you. You stare him down fighting the urge to hit him with all your strength. All it does is make his cocky smile grow bigger. An awkward throat clearing brings the two of you apart as Gale stands in front of you.

“Hmm well if you’re all done with your lover's quarrel, we were going to put our money together.” You want to argue that a lovers quarrel was very very far from the truth but you instead take role. Counting the money together you think you have enough for all of you to grab a bunk for the night. You had spotted an inn earlier and lead the group towards it.

-

The inn was one of the larger buildings in the area. It hosted a tavern on its first floor, home to beer drinking and dinner. The next two stories were dedicated to rentals. Thankfully, there was just enough space for two to a room with a small bed for each. Everyone argued who was going to bunk with you. Given your earlier appearances everyone had already voted you and Astarion to a room. You just about lost your head in front of the kind old inn woman.

“Come on, the lovers can share a romantic evening together!” Karlach teased.

“There is no lovers and there will be no romance!” You seethe.

“Honestly, I mean Gods knows I can do better.” Astarion chimes in.

“Now what is that suppose to mean-“ you turn your attention to the white haired Vampire. He raises his hands in mock defense.

“Aw the lovers are fighting again.” Shadowheart replies. The old woman behind the desk gives a small chuckle.

“Oh deary, I completely understand. You two need a special room. Here darling, on the house. Last door on the right.” The woman gives a set of keys over to you. You thank her for her understanding and set off in the direction she gave you. Astarion is on your heels as you ascend to the rental rooms on the third floor. The rest get together with their designated partner for the night and set off to their rooms for the night. You set the key to the lock and turn it.

“I hope you know I’ll be getting the largest bed, beauty sleep needed and all.” Astarion quips. You don’t have the function to respond as you peer into the room. The room is massive. There’s a beautiful fainting couch overlooking large windows peering into the valley below. Velvet curtains hang in the windows. A fire roars off to the left corner in a stone fireplace. A plush bear rug lines the middle of the space. And right there, dead center, is only one large king bed.

Part one here

Part four here

[obxsummer]

HEARTFIRST // JJ Maybank

pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

warnings: mentions of abuse, sibling drama, nothing too drastic

request: heyy i have a fic idea! so i thought you could do a secret relationship jj x reader (john bs sis) and jj shows up at her window beaten up and she cleans him up and they go to bed; then he has a nightmare and wakes up screaming and JB sees how good they are for each other? idk if that makes sense hahaha!

navigation 

more from the SUBJECT TO CHANGE series

--

John B was pissed. Fuming. Ready to strangle his best friend of too many years for something so stupid. There had always been one rule since JJ Maybank and John Booker Routledge became best friends: you were off limits. Y/N Routledge was not to be flirted with, dated, looked at, or spoken to unless John B approved it. 

At first, it didn’t matter. Growing up as kids, John B had his friends and you had yours but once your dad dove headfirst into a treasure hunt, everything went to shit. Kiara’s Kook year had really screwed up your relationship, leaving JJ and Pope to fill in the gaps which pulled you closer and closer with your brother and his friends. You were teenagers then and everything felt so important and critical, even if it wasn’t. 

So when John B realized his best friend and his sister were together, there was nothing that could stop him from losing his shit on the two of you.

Met him at a party, accidentally brushed his body On the way to get a drink at the bar I couldn't wait 'til later, talking in the elevator Then we're kissing in the back of the car

The kegger idea had really sounded good at first; it was something to get your minds off your missing father, not to mention the sudden dead bodies popping up from the hurricane. None of it seemed too out of place for you, minus the newfound treasure hunting, but you were always up for a good party. 

“Where the hell did you find a keg on such short notice?” You asked JJ as the two of you hauled the large object down towards the Boneyard. You never really thought about how quickly JJ managed to find alcohol when it was for a party. It was common knowledge that he just knew where to go and how to do it. 

“Don’t you worry about that, Birdie. You know I’ve got my ways.”

The party was in full swing a few hours later. You’d spent most of your time with John B and Sarah before dipping to find the boy that seemed to be taking up most of your mind. JJ had been occupied with beer pong for a good portion of the last hour and you were determined to break him away.

That voice in my head says to slow down But it can't see the way you're looking at me right now It may not be next week, what I need Then again, maybe it might be

The drink in your hand sloshed over the rim of the cup as someone ran into your side in their drunken stumbling. JJ’s attention moved to you instantly. He’d always been so in tune with you and your presence but it only got stronger ever since your dad left. 

The previously occupied beat-up table full of red solo cups was left behind in trade for your company, JJ instantly taking your hand in his as he twirled you. He would give up so much to watch you smile like that every day. You deserved every bit of happiness that came to you because it certainly didn’t come often. 

Your laughter was infectious and JJ was drunk on it. He didn’t know who made the move or who threw the back door of the Twinkie open but shit, your skin was so soft and JJ just couldn’t stop kissing you. 

The line between friends and more slowly disappeared between you and JJ. At some point, your bed became his, and his clothes blended with yours. The thrill of hiding from the Pogues was exciting, sneaking moments when the two of you could to enjoy the one thing you had to yourselves.

JJ was everything to you and yet, it terrified you. You’ve never had a person to connect with in the way you did with him. The thought of your friends, of your brother, being pissed about what was going on was suffocating. What if this fucked up the group? What if JJ left you for someone else when he got bored? JJ was always quick to shut that idea down. 

“We’ve grown up together, Birdie. Kinda stupid of them to think something wasn’t gonna happen within the group at some point, right?” Which was always followed by: “You’re it for me. Now get outta that pretty little head and let me love on you.”

He had a point, but then again when JJ was pressing kisses down your neck, you never could think clearly.

Could be forever or we might break That's just the kind of risk that we take My head is yelling that I could get hurt But I'm gonna jump right in Baby, with my heart first

“You wanna tell them?” JJ’s voice was muffled as he spoke into the skin of your shoulder. The two of you were sitting on the porch of the Chateau, watching bemused as Kiara and Pope challenged Sarah and John B to an intense game of cards out on the dock. 

You sat beside the blond boy. To any observing eyes, it would just look like two friends having a civil conversation. To you, JJ’s hand was behind your back, fingers gently moving across the skin of your hip that wasn’t covered by the t-shirt over your swimsuit. 

“No.” Your answer didn’t have any anger or harshness behind it. You simply just loved having JJ all to yourself, with no judgment or prying eyes. No pressure to make it something neither of you wanted. It felt selfish to a point to keep something from your friends, from your brother. 

“Get out of your head.”

A smile made its way onto your face as you took the risk of leaning your head against JJ’s shoulder, tucking further into his side. JJ was so warm, his tan skin from constant surfing smooth against your cheek. It scared you sometimes, how comfortable everything was when it involved him. 

JJ’s heart skipped watching you be so relaxed, so vulnerable around him. He’d been so used to living on the edge and being tense for so long that it was so… vulnerable, so healing to have someone feel protected and safe enough to be by his side. 

Who knows what'll happen, ain't that always kinda magic When you don't know who's holding the cards Could be a wish I never knew ya or permanently tattoo ya Only the moon knows what's in the stars (what's in the stars)

You were pissed. You don’t know at what point John B thought he could parent you when the two of you were so close in age. Who was he after all this time to think he could boss you around?

“How long? How long has this been going on?” John B’s voice almost rattled the windows, echoing around the space surrounding you and JJ. The two of you stood there awkwardly like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. 

“Three months,” Your whisper was almost incoherent. Your eyes were trained on the ground, heart thumping in your chest so loud you figured JJ could probably hear it. This was the risk that came with not telling them, with keeping secrets amongst Pogues. God, there were so many stupid rules. 

John B’s hand slammed against the counter. “Three-Three months? God. I just…There was one rule. One fucking rule JJ. You promised!”

JJ visibly flinched at the anger in John B’s statement. That was true; JJ did promise John B he’d never get with you, never hurt you. All of that flew out the door the moment JJ saw you at that kegger. He had to risk it.

“I’m..I’m sorry, man! It just happened, okay? And-and we didn’t want to tell you guys because we didn’t want something like this to happen!”

“Well it’s happening,” John B scoffed with a shake of his head. The disappointment on his face was suffocating and you felt like you would burst into tears at any second. It wasn’t fair. Being forced apart when you knew you loved JJ? How is that fair?

John B shifted further into your line of vision. “Get the fuck out. Now. And don’t let me see you two near each other until I figure this out, got it?”

You looked up in a panic. “John B-”

“Do not argue with me right now. I don’t want to talk to you.” The look in your brother’s eyes left no room for argument. You’d never seen him this mad, especially toward you. 

JJ’s fingers squeezed your wrist lightly before he shuffled out the door behind you. The creaky hinges filled the room as you and John B stared at each other, waiting for the other to break. 

The fridge door popped open when your brother finally decided to move to grab a beer. Part of you wanted to run after JJ, to prove to John B that you didn’t have to listen to him. The problem was, you knew JJ respected your brother too much to let you do that for him. 

“You didn’t have to be so harsh on him,” You mumbled when you mustered up enough courage. John B tended to be… touch and go when he was angry. There was a risk of setting off another fuse if you didn’t watch what you said. 

As kids, JJ always picked on your brother for inheriting your dad’s temper. John B hated that it was true. To your relief, your brother let out a sigh and placed both of his hands on the counter. He felt instant regret watching JJ flinch at the noise level, knowing exactly what happened in the Maybank house when nobody else was around. “I know.” 

“I can’t tell you that I’m gonna stop being with him,” You admitted, holding your ground while you had the chance. You crossed your arms over your chest. “I respect your opinion a lot, Booker, but if it means staying away from JJ, I’ll learn to live without it.”

 It was a little more aggressive than you intended for it to be but it needed to be said. You moved through the kitchen to your room without another word. 

Mm, that voice in my head says to slow down But it can't feel your hands on my hips right now It may not be next year, what I need Then again, maybe it might be

JJ felt horrible for doing this. He knew he was playing with fire but as he pushed up your bedroom window, he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He could deal with John B later. Right now, he really needed you. 

He was a little less than graceful stumbling through your window in the darkness, but he found his way eventually. You shifted awake from his rustled movements and caught a quick glance at his silhouette before turning to flick the light on. “JJ? What’s wrong? Do you need-”

“Nothin’. Sorry to wake you, Birdie. Just wanted to see you.” You could tell he was avoiding meeting your eyes as he kicked off his shoes. The coloration of bruising was beginning to show through his abdomen and you shook your head slightly. JJ didn’t like to explain when his dad treated him like this. He kept quiet and you didn’t push him because he would always talk when he wanted to about what happened. 

So, you turned the lights off and cuddled up next to him, hoping you would wake up before John B saw anything.

JJ didn’t always have nightmares when it came to his dad, but whatever happened was terrible enough that he did. Half the time they weren’t even about his dad hitting him; it always involved his dad hurting you. 

The blond’s sharp movements woke you up before the screaming did. You didn’t hesitate to pull him closer, his hands grasping your hips to hold as you settled across his lap. His shirt puddled on your thighs as he let his fingers drift across your bare skin above your pajama shorts. JJ tucked his face in your neck and just listened to your heartbeat, reassuring him that you were right here and you were safe.

John B couldn’t say he was pleased to be woken up at 5:00 in the morning. Even less so when the alarm clock involved screaming. It wasn’t your voice though, and he didn’t know if that was a relief or something to be worried about. 

You didn’t flinch when your brother threw your door open to reveal the sight within. You knew he could see the fact that the two of you were fully clothed and clearly, everything was okay… well, as okay as it could be. 

Eyes moving to look at John B, you prayed he wouldn’t say anything while JJ was so upset. To your surprise and gratitude, he didn’t. He stared at both of you for a moment as the realization settled in. The realization that you were old enough to make these decisions for yourself and as much as John B wanted to protect you, to protect you and JJ, he couldn’t keep you apart. 

John B gave you a small nod and mouthed to let him know if you or JJ needed anything. You gave him a forced smile back, a barely there ‘thank you’ leaving your lips as you hugged your boyfriend tighter to your chest. 

As your bedroom door closed, you had this overwhelming sense of relief that maybe…maybe it would all work out after all. 

I gotta have ya, gotta see if this works I gotta have ya, wake up in your t-shirt I gotta have ya, diving in heart first

[hollowwrites]

Company

Ominis x MC

Summary - I wanted to write something with cheeky, teasing Ominis and it quickly devolved into Ominis in love. I like the idea of these two being really mature and serious but when they’re together they’re just comfortable and silly.

50 house point to anyone who catches the Baldurs Gate reference

Warnings - None (Fluffy, comforting goodness)

Word Count - 3200

~

This was getting a tad ridiculous.

Ominis couldn’t really say much. He was the King of sleeping at all hours of the day and in a manner of different locations.

But this was starting to concern him.

On at least five occasions over the last month he had found Evelyn completely passed out. In the Common Room. In the Room of Requirement. On one occasion he’d almost tripped over her legs, splayed forward outside one of the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classrooms. Like she was on her way to the Undercroft but simply didn’t make it.

It seemed as well that himself and Sebastian took it in turns to find her, bringing her back to somewhere she could properly get some rest before she started all over again the next day.

See, as soon as Evelyn made her return to Hogwarts, the beginning of her sixth and arguably her first proper year there, she hadn’t stopped. Essays, Assignments, extra curricular activities, extra lessons. Anything the school had to offer Evelyn was in.

That was the only way she could see herself catching up to her fellow classmates.

What she failed to see was that she’d already surpassed so many of them in most of their lessons. Whilst simultaneously learning an entirely unknown field of magic alone and saving Hogwarts from certain doom.

Not bad for someone who didn’t know what a Quaffle was.

But it was that lack of common knowledge that kept her thinking she was below average. Kept her busy.

So when Ominis managed to catch her it was a miracle.

Wrangling her in was something else entirely. Usually he could tempt her into more studying and from there would simply distract her away from her studies until they both collapsed from exhaustion and too many bags of Honeydukes fudge.

They’d made a habit of reading in the tiny lobby of the Room of Requirement, tucked up on the sofa in front of the cosy crackling fire. A blanket over their legs and books in hand, they’d often spend any available free time holed up this way. Whether it was a shared blanket or separate, sat besides each other or at each others feet. Books firmly planted in their laps or, more often than not, precariously dangling from fingers when one of them nodded off.

That cosy warmth is what often coerced Evelyn to sleep after a long day of studying.

And because of that, Ominis had grown accustomed to the dull weight of her head on his person. Leaning on his thigh, or even his chest if they lay at a funny angle. Most commonly was his shoulder.

He paid it no mind. The soft thud of her head falling to his shoulder normally indicated it was time to relax, no longer needing to keep an ear out for her. She was right there.

Where she belonged.

This time is was the gentle hum of his wand that sent her off. The moment he had produced the novel he was engrossed in and the thrum of magic radiated from his wand as it dictated its words to him, her eyes grew heavy. It was often the case, like the soft low drone of his charm was associated with peace.

Although it wasn’t just her. They both found their comfort within each other.

For her, it was his wand and the way it hummed with potential magic. The almost velvety lapels of his robes. The subtle scent of bergamot and black tea.

For him, it was her hair. Yes, he enjoyed the delicate rose that fell around her like a halo, but it was her hair that sent shivers down his spine.

After long days studying, naps and spell practise, her normal prim and proper bun, piled high on her head, began to droop. Tiny hairs escaped it confounds and fell over her face. Of course he only knew of this from the flyaways caressing his cheek as she lay there. And he’d be lying if he said, the small annoyed puffs of air didn’t amuse him as she blew them away. But he much preferred removing those offending strands himself, allowing its soft, barely wavy locks to slip through his fingers like silk.

When she was awake, said act was accompanied by a heat rising in her cheeks, the like of which he could only feel when his fingers eventually dropped from her face. The minute change in her temperature and the way she would stutter out her thanks were pure joy for Ominis.

Whilst she was asleep, he didn’t get the gratitude. Just a disembodied mumble and her soft breath falling over his neck in slow sharp huffs. As though she knew he were there.

It was moments like those, in the quiet when it was just them, that he realised he had fallen for her.

He wasn’t entirely sure when he stopped craving her attention as a friend and started needing it as part of his daily life. Sebastian insists it was from the moment they’d met, teasing him endlessly about being jealous and wishing to court her.

Maybe he had been right.

It didn’t matter now.

She was his friend. An established friendship that he cherished and he hoped she did too. He wasn’t about to lose one of the only people he cared about because of…what? Love?

He would.

He definitely would.

He’d do anything for her.

But so would his family. And he couldn’t allow that.

Besides…how does one approach your best friend and tell them that you love them, whilst simultaneously not wishing to actually be with them for their own safety and due to your own families prejudices? There wasn’t exactly a step-by-step guide…even in the Restricted Section…

So…at least for now, he would enjoy these moments with her where he could pretend. Pretend that she reached for him in her sleep because she loved him too. Pretend that nothing outside of these four walls could harm them. Pretend that they could live that happy fantasy life they read about so often.

Happily ever after.

He didn’t feel the exact moment she began to stir in his lap, her head rolling to look up at him. He was too distracted by his own thoughts, his own imaginings. Too busy distracting himself with her.

There was no indication to Ominis just how long she lay awake for. Her breathing unchanged, movements slow and lethargic. But it was long enough for her to watch the tangle of his brows grow harder, the knot grow larger.

Then a long dainty digit poked his brow. Directly in the middle, where he could feel his frown becoming deeper and deeper. Dwelling on thoughts of what ifs and maybe’s.

That knot was willed away with a single prod of her finger.

“Moody” she grumbled, the familiar husk of her sleepy state melting away the last little bit of negativity in his head.

Gods…I’m so in love her

The thought scared him somewhat. The unknown possibilities, the hurt, the rejection. No, Ominis was very much a creature of habit. He could remain as he was rather contently…for now.

His ever growing smirk became impossible to hide behind the thin veil of annoyance he wore across his features. His lip twitched upward as he tried, and failed, to control his grin. Tutting, with faux exasperation, he shifted his focus down towards his lap.

“Tsk…You can’t just point it out and expect it to go away” he scolded. She’d heard him tell her off before. Most memorable being the unfortunate Undercroft incident. This was a far cry from those times.

“Sorry, it’s just…” she mumbled, still sounding half asleep. Then came another poke to his brow and he could no longer control the easy and airy laugh that left his lips “…I don’t like it when you’re brooding”

“I am not brooding” Ominis pouted upon hear that word. He’d heard himself described as that many times and he couldn’t quite understand why. It wasn’t his fault his face naturally settled into a frown. From what he understood about Evelyn’s visage, hers was much the same but no one called her broody.

“Besides…” he continued after hearing her playful giggle. He hated being called that but somehow when she said it, it wasn’t half as bad. “…if I was brooding, you can’t stop it by simply poking it away. You’ve tried enough times, I would have assumed you’d have understood that fact by now”

His smirk grew to a wide arrogant grin as he teased her. At some point, he wasn’t really aware of when, but his fingers made their way to ends of her hair. Twirling and twiddling the soft strands around his digits, delighting in the tiny morsels of information he gathered from it.

She had longish hair. Thick, far thicker than any he’d felt before. Like a heavy fog laying over his hands.

Her voice suddenly snapped him out of his reverie. A fast and sharp reminder he didn’t live in his fantasies where she was his.

“Then why are you smiling?” She turned her head in his lap to look at his features square on.

Yes, definitely a smile…

“I’m smiling….because you’re, you” he said simply and confidently, not realising it caused a fiery flush to blossom across her cheeks. He just smiled in that half aware, half vacant way that he did. Easy. “…It is still rather irritating though…”

“Anyway…” he continued on, unaware of the bashful way she looked up at him “What disturbed you? I was having such a peaceful evening until you woke up…” He teased, the familiar crinkle on his nose appearing as his smile grew wider.

“Oh…I had a very odd dream…” shortly after she spoke, her head pulled up and out of his lap, a vague sigh leaving her lips causing Ominis to raise a pointed brow.

“Everything okay?” He asked softly, tilting his head towards her, as he always did.

“Mmm…” she hummed, shaking her head as though trying to rid the memories within “…yes, just…dreamt that I was falling”

“Ah…” Ominis replied with a smirk tugging back at his lips. His wand returned to the pages of his book, resting on the cushion beside him “…do you know the old wives tale that if you hit the ground in your dreams, you supposedly die?”

Evelyn glared at the side of Ominis’ face with enough contempt it could burn through him. And he felt it, causing the smirk to widen on his face, a flash of teeth peaking through.

“Wonderful. I trust you’ll wake me before I perish then” she jabbed him softly in the ribs as a low chuckle left him.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I shall let you fall. That way I don’t have to clean drool from my robes every other day”

That struck a nerve.

She shot up in her seat, clambering onto the cushions to get a better look at where she had laid her head.

“I don’t drool!” She exclaimed as she padded around his thigh and knee.

“You most definitely do. I already got rid of it. I’ve become quite proficient at the Drying Charm since becoming your friend” he grinned, wide, teeth bared like a cat as he bathed in her annoyance.

“I do not drool”

“Dribble then. Call it what you will-“

“I don’t dribble either” she muttered, folding her arms over her chest and slumping against the backrest. The distinct little huff as she pouted only caused Ominis to laugh loudly.

“I suppose I should go back to the Dorms…” she groaned as she stretched upwards “…wouldn’t want to dampen your robes any more than I already have”

Oh…

“Wait…” Ominis exclaimed suddenly, feeling the weight of the cushions beneath him shift as she rose from their seat. He quickly grabbed for her, aiming for her upper arm or forearm, but timed it too late and caught her palm perfectly. His long fingers slid over hers as he grasped for her, neither pulling her down nor standing himself. Just keeping her there, whilst his brain racked for an excuse.

“Is everything okay?” Evelyn asked inquisitively, the concern for his sudden shift in behaviour bled quite heavily into her tone.

“Everything’s fine…I just want to talk to you”

“Okay…” he relaxed once more when he felt her return to her position next to him “…What about?”

“I…”

Gods damn it…

“…I don’t have a topic in mind…” he scrambled. though you would never know. His voice, as always carried him with confidence, no stammering or stuttering. If it weren’t for the slight upturn of his brows…one would never suspect anything was wrong.

“You’ve been difficult to tie down as of late…” he continued “…I’ve missed you, missed your voice. I’d…just like to hear you speak”

“Okay…” she says softly, shuffling closer and leaning back into his arm. And the sigh that left him upon her acceptance was…heavy. As though he had just gotten in from a long day shopping around Londons markets, feet aching and awaiting a warm cup of tea. “Where to start…” she murmured to herself, hearing the slight tap of fingers as they drummed against her cheek in contemplation .

“Oh! Well…I read this book recently……”

This was perfect.

Ominis couldn’t imagine a better way to spend an evening. The slow crackle and pop of the fire wood. The soft cushioned nest he sat in. The gentle yet excitable tone in which she spoke.

All of it was so…comforting.

So homely.

He was home.

And as she continued, prattling on about this novel, he listened. Intently. Didn’t interject. Didn’t interrupt. Just listened. Hung up on every single word that passed by her lips.

It was a romance. And though he never expected her to enjoy those sorts of stories, he liked that she was so passionate about them. The cliches, the cringy dialogue, the overused tropes. She babbled on about them all. Though he could tell by the way she stumbled and over explained every tiny detail that she was embarrassed for liking them. Every sentence came with a justification tacked onto the end, as though it needed it.

Those words on those pages made her happy.

Therefore Ominis was happy.

Mainly for the manner in which she spoke.

He knew she talked with her hands. A visual mannarism of hers he never usually got to experience. But as she leaned into his arm, reluctant to let him move, the small twitches of her fingers and sway of her hands, accurately conveyed what she was saying. It was nice to witness her passion bubbling forward in another way.

And her laugh. Gods…

If the sound alone wasn’t enough to cause him to fall for her, her movements were. The way she leaned into him as she threw her head back. The vibrations of mirth sweeping through her whole being shifting the robes between them like kindling. He had to stop himself chuckling along with her from fear she assumed he was laughing at her. But her laughter was infectious, his willpower working overtime to not catch her bug.

It was like she was made for him. The way she laughed with her whole body. Gestured wildly with her hands, a flurry of excitement and joy or frustration and anger. Audibly thought through things, with little hums and ‘erm’s and ‘What to do’s.

She showed him, in her own way, everything he couldn’t see.

“…honestly-”

Her tone picked up. No longer the lull of softness as she explained characters, plot twists, plot holes, everything.

“-I didn’t think I’d enjoy the book. It’s rather cliche and not very well written but…I finished it in one night. I just couldn’t stop. That probably isn’t helping, me falling asleep around the castle…”

Evelyn pulled herself up and turned her head towards Ominis, finally finishing her mad rant about the silly little book she loved. His eyes were closed, head resting against the cushions, and a wistful smile on his lips.

“Ominis? Are you alright?” She whispered meekly, worried she’d knocked him out with her boring lecture.

But he simply smiled wider and opened his eyes, the glassy blue orbs settling over the fire. “I’m fine, I’m just…enjoying your company.”

Though his focus never wandered from her, or her words, he slowly shifted his gaze back towards her. He let out a relaxed sigh and sank further into the cushions, listening intently to the steady slow thump of her heart, the gentle breathes that sound more like tiny sighs.

“I’ve missed you. Missed your voice…I know I’ve already said that but…listening to you just then really emphasised it”

He was met with a simple scoff, a force of air that sounded just annoyed enough for Ominis to worry.

“You’ve finally gone mad...” She declared, her tone indicating amusement. So why the scoff? “…my voice is shrill. At best”

“I’ll admit when we first met…” Ominis started, unable to stop himself from teasing her just a little. “…I thought you were somehow half human, half mandrake but-“

Smack

“Hey!” She whined playfully smacking his arm, his smug chuckle making her own smile widen. She’d known him for a little over a year now and this was the most she’d ever seen him smile.

“BUT…” he said defensively, throwing his arms up in surrender “…I’ve since learned to love it. It’s comforting. Like listening to music.”

“Well…thank you” she said sweetly, unconsciously proving his point with her soft and gentle tone.

“I know you said that book was terribly written but I wouldn’t mind giving it a read. Do you still have it?”

“The Magister and his Mistress?” She asks inquisitively with a curious tilt to her head “Well well well, Mr Gaunt. I would never have took you for a Hopeless Romantic”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he chuckled at the name.

“There is more to me than the Dark Arts and Curses”

He could hear her rummaging around, presumably in her bag or robes pockets, until her fingers wrapped around his wrist, guiding him towards a freshly bound book. The smell of its paper sent a shiver down Ominis’ spine. There was nothing better than the smell of books.

As he took it from her hands, their finger brushed against each other, delicate and deliberate. Neither flinched nor pulled away but that was expected.

They already pushed the boundaries of what was considered okay for ‘friends’. Especially for the normally standoffish Heir of Slytherin. Within a week of them knowing each other they walked arm in arm around Hogsmeade and the castle. So this casual and accidental caress most likely meant nothing. And he shouldn’t read into it.

“Thank you…” he murmured, taking the book and pushing down any thoughts that she may feel the same.

There was no point.

They couldn’t be together anyway so why bother torturing himself over it?

Her sudden yawn caught his attention once again and he turned back to her, a soft smirk pulling at his lips.

“Tired already?” He asks impishly

“I’m always tired”

“Perhaps we should get you back to the dorms. Have you sleep in a bed…for once”

Masterlist

[onlybeeewrites]

Until The Mockingjay Sings

Requested: no but I love Sejanus and angst and this made me sad

Warnings; major character death, hurt no comfort

Pairing: Sejanus x gn!reader, platonic Lucy Gray x Readers (y’all are besties)

Italicized = flashback

Word count: 1.6 k

You remember the last few hours that you had spent with the sweet Sejanus Plinth so clearly. It was a few days ago, you both had finished dancing at the Hob to the beautiful songs of the Covey. The two of you had been dancing, laughing and singing. It was a beautiful. You swear everything was so perfect.

Then he had walked you home, pressing a kiss to your cheek before leaving for the night. The small kiss from the sweet boy left butterflies in your stomach. Enough to make you smile from cheek to cheek, the redness on your face never ending. It was enough to have your father questioning his intensions, but it was all teasing.

He knew how much you cared for the young peacekeeper. As the bakers of the District, they sometimes (often) came into the bakery for breads, sweets if they could.

That’s how you met Sejanus Plinth.

Poor, sweet, foolish Sejanus Plinth.

How could things have ended so poorly? So quickly? Your mind couldn’t comprehend.

You stood with Lucy Gray in the crowd of people, near the front as you watched you who recognized as Spruce and what you had heard to be his sister. be brought up, about to be strung up on the big old tree. The two of them looked defiant, while also being horrifically beaten. Dried blood and bruises covered their faces and exposed skin. Dirt littered and stained their clothes and hair, and yet they still held their heads high. Honorable. But what had they done?

As Coriolanus’ eyes scanned the crowd, he spotted the familiar head of dark curls that belonged to his beloved Lucy Gray. Though next to her was you, Sejanus’ beloved Y/N. His heart pounded seeing your pained and confused face. You truly had no idea what Sejanus had done….maybe it was better that way anyway. Had you known you would have been up there beside Sejanus. And that would have been such a waste. He agreed that you were good, too good and too kind. Often too much for your own good. But then again, you and Sejanus had that in common. And his mind went back to the moment everything had started to gone wrong.

“You can’t show that you know or saw anything anything, Sejanus. You need to pull yourself together. If we’re all caught…they might suspect Y/N too. And you want to keep them safe right?” Coriolanus’ had asked Sejanus. And Sejanus’ dark eyes had widened at the mention of your name.

No. No, no, no, no. You couldn’t be wrapped up in this. You didn’t know anything about the rebels, or the plan of escape, the weapons, his meetings with Billy Taupe and Spruce. Would you really get caught in the middle of it all if himself and the others were caught? You had no knowledge of anything. You wouldn’t. Your life in Twelve wasn’t all sunshine, but it was better than many.

You had expressed this to him too. That you did what you could for the District. Handing out free bread to those who were starving. Often you have the Covey expired pastries and sweets when you could. You were kind. Genuinely so kind and almost too kind for your own good.

It was ironic for Sejanus to think so, but it was true. You were a good person. One of the few he had met in a long time. And he had sworn to himself and you to keep you safe. He was just about to pull you aside and ask for you to come with him. Away from the districts, to travel up North away from it all. That was until Coryo shot Mayfair. And then Spruce shot Billy Taupe. And it was all going wrong.

Sejanus quickly shook his head, looking at his friend in tears, “no….no they have nothing to do with this Coryo, you know that…” he whimpered with a desperate shake of his head. He failed onto keep from the violence. But he would always make sure you were safe.

Coriolanus nodded, keeping his hands firm on his friend’s face. “I know they don’t, Sejanus. I know. But in order to keep them safe and out of this, you need to pull yourself together. You need to collect yourself and walk back out there like nothing happened. We’re the only lose ends left right?” He asked, and Sejanus nodded again, taking a shaky breath. “Hey…we’re brothers, remember? Brothers...and I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe,”

How that would change so quickly. Coriolanus remained at the front stage of the hanging tree, his gun firmly in his hand while hearing his friend beg for him. Him. Coriolanus Snow. Sejanus Plinth’s best friend. His murderer. And Sejanus didn’t even know. You didn’t even know.

“Please…please coryo…..Coryo…” his voice repeated as he was dragged to his spot, the noise fitting around his neck as the head peacekeeper replayed the recording of the Jabber Jay. You looked on horrified next to Lucy Gray, looking around in shock.

“No….whats Sejanus doing here? He hasn’t done anything. There’s been a mistake,” you say rather in disbelief and frazzled as you watched your boyfriend struggle against the pace keepers before being brought up on stage. You listened in horror as the recording

“No….no there’s been a mistake!” You shout, all eyes moving towards your figure. Lucy Gray’s eyes widened, shaking her head. “Y/N, stop it..” she warned quietly, anxiously.

But you didn’t hear her as the crowd parted to show you. Senjsnus’ eyes widened through the tears. He didn’t expect you to be here. With all his fear he felt, what really made his blood run cold was seeing you. The panic on your face, the disbelief. He never got to tell you everything. The plan to run away together. He wanted to make sure he had everything planned out to the second to make sure it was perfect.

Sejanus wanted to tell you about the life you both could have together. A family. Away from the districts. Away from the Capital. And away from the Games.

"Y/N..." Sejanus gasped, jerking in the restraints, only to earn a warning from the peacekeeper. You weren't supposed to be here. He was scared, but he did not want you to see what was about to happen.

"Sejanus! There's been a mistake! Please!' You called out, the stinging in the back of your eyes as some of the peacekeepers moved. Lucy Gray had seen this. Lil...the girl about to be hung now had done this exact same thing when her lover had been hung. Quickly, Lucy Gray moved forward and quickly pulled you back.

"Y/N, you need to stop or else you'll be up there next," She whispered harshly as you fought her for a moment. How could you remain quiet?

"No....no...no...Y/n! Ma!" Sejanus's voice rang out before there was a sickening crack of several necks as the floor below the three people gave out.

You stared in horror through your tears as the body of the love of your life twitched and swung back and forth by rope that killed hundreds already. You felt like the whole world stopped. Your blood ran cold, and it was like someone had sucked everything from you. The warmth, the love, the hope. Everything that Sejanus had given you, the light and hope for a new and better life, was taken from you within seconds. Who could do such a thing? Sejanus didn't have enemies. None that you could think of at least. But at the moment you couldn't think as you tried to come to terms with what just has happened.

"Oh my god...Sejanus..." You sobbed, feeling your legs give out from beneath you. Lucy Gray was quick to drop down beside you, wrapping her arms comfortingly. Though Sejanus' voice continued to ring out in the air.

The Mockingjays all flew around the crowd and trees, repeating his last words, "Y/N! Ma!"

His voice was scared, desperate for the ones he had loved most. A District boy turned Capital turned rebel. you stared as the ground in horror, tears streaming down your face as your body shook with sobs and shock. Lucy Gray was gently rubbing your back but you couldn't feel it. You couldn't feel anything. Just numb.

So Lucy Gray allowed you to remain like that, sobbing until there was no tears left. Your eyes and face red and puffy, a blank and lost look in your eye. By the time you even got to your feet, a majority of the crowd had left.

"No...don't look," Lucy Gray had gently ordered, keeping your gaze down from the sight of the tree. You were shaking, and nothing like the best friend she had known. She wrapped a supportive arm around you before leading you out of the area without another look behind you both.

Coriolanus felt his own stomach churn as he had heard he snap of his former classmate, his squad member swung behind him, and watched as you had fallen to your knees in pure anguish. As the look in your eyes turned from hopeful and light to a blank and pained look. All for Sejanus. Maybe he had more of an influence than Coriolanus originally had thought. The same boy who had gotten himself into more trouble than he was worth.

The very same boy he had met on the playground when they were eight, the same boy who had given him the gum drops, the one who Coriolanus had almost died for in the arena, the reason he had to kill.

But then he had to remind himself that it was not his fault. He had to report Sejanus, he was trouble, a rebel. Sejanus had been ruining everything with his guilt and urge to help others. But that was all over now. Sejanus was no more.

Poor Sejanus.

Poor sweet, foolish, dead Sejanus.

[a-bag-of-issues-blog]

Language in a Space Age

I've been going down the "humans are Space Orcs" rabbithole again, and a lot of it felt unsatisfying to me, so I tried my hand at whipping up a story I liked.

---

It was four sols prior when the security contract with the mercenaries ended.

Three sols prior when the ship’s Captain had said Xe might know someone.

Two sols prior when we had landed on the sandy, hot planet.

And one sol prior when I had first seen a Human fight.

It was an underground fighting arena – almost literally, with only the very top of the domed structure rising out of the sand dune, its colored glass absorbing the worst of the radiation. The seating was arranged in the large, concentric rings common of many gathering places (and yet we still do not have a word in Common for it, is that not strange?), and they were packed with people and dust alike. Despite the obviously ill maintenance of the ventilation and heating, they were bearable, and I only had to remove a small amount of dust from my body coat as we ventured deeper inside.

“So, boss, who’s your mysterious benefactor?” Asked Asdelon as its left eye moved towards the Captain, the right one continuing to scan the crowd.

Our pilot was something of an outsider – from both its home culture and, perhaps, every culture it has ever entered. As a Khetansh, it was born an almost perfect clone of its progenitor, who was itself part of a set of almost perfect clones of their progenitor, like the rest of its species one way or another. And yet Asdelon has always described itself as different, in a way that the Common tongue can not express. There was a word for it, in its language – but it had never found the need to translate it, and I had never dared ask. It was one of the species that felt the need to stare at others’ eyes as it spoke, and while I would now trust it with my life, back then those large eyes and sharp teeth reminded me too much of the old cautionary stories my parents used to tell me.

Those eyes turned fully onto the Captain after some time of no response. While the scales on its face could move very little, its voice was higher and definitely sarcastic when it continued:

“Thanks for the info, boss, makes tracking this Iethid a lot easier.”

The Captain’s eyes swayed in time with his antennae, a sign of what I had begun to recognize as amusement.

“Oh, don’t scuff your scales now. I was just looking around.”

Captain Exlasl was a Xelthor, and a large one for Xirs age. Xirs outer skeleton was a slight blue and white, and Xe liked to brag that the brown stripped markings on Xirs abdomen were signs of great strength and wisdom in Xirs culture. As I did not – and do not – have much knowledge on Drugarian Xelthor culture, I never challenged Xir about that.

“And we could be helping you, if you were a little less mysterious about it.”

“Don’t worry, I think you’ll have your answer soon enough…” The translator trailed off as Xe reached up to adjust it with Xirs smaller hand, but Xirs eyes began turning towards the arena floor where the latest combatant (a Horenga, with a body coat almost identical to mine) had entered. Asdelon looked down at the combatant, and I could tell it was not impressed.

“Really? That one? I’ll give you that they’re probably a little faster than our Horenga here, but I can tell you right now they’re still more…how do you say…more words than action.”

“The Horenga has a name.” I reminded it. “And their name is Linome.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Its tongue flicked out to drag down its right eye (a method of self-cleaning that was also an expression of boredom, almost like how I and other Horengas clean our ears) and it shifted the weight on its legs. “Listen, if you’re out of ideas, then you could’ve just told us. No need to –”

The announcer’s voice called out, in a dialect of Common so blended with the local language that I could not understand a single word. A combatant walked out, and I have never felt such awe and dread so strong in a single moment before.

Humans are not rare. They are not the strongest species, or the largest species, or the toughest. But they are resilient, they are tenacious, and many are warriors.

This Human was small for her species – which meant her eyes were level with the middle of the ears of her opponent. Her skin had multiple marks on them, wounds healed from past battles in the raised and bumpy way Human skin heals, and her limbs were large and clearly muscled. Her clothes were loose and flowing, and her hands were wrapped – from the base of her digits up to the second joint of her arm. Her face, though, drew my attention.

Supposedly, Human faces change drastically as they emote – the movement of skin and muscles in the face being their primary form of expression. Since moving onto the sand, though, the Human’s face had changed as little as Asdelon’s had – even when they bowed to their opponent, even as they moved to opposite ends of the arena.

“Is that your secret weapon?” I still could not pick up on the inflections of Asdelon’s voice, but the way it moved closer to the arena showed it was interested in some way. Exlasl’s pincers clicked together quickly, amusedly – excitedly, even.

“You bet your behind it is. You’re about to meet the person that once tore off my big arm.”

That caught my attention – but the bell had already rung, and the combatants were running at each other face first already.

---

The event lasted almost an entire rotation, and afterwards we still could not immediately contact the Human, because she was still being treated for her injuries. She had promised to contact us on the next rotation, though, which was good because I needed the time to prepare myself.

The brutality and relentlessness of Humans were not exaggerated. When that poor Horenga struck the Human a over and over, she simply took the blows she could not avoid, and a single direct strike to their chest was enough to end the fight. When an Asdelon walked into the ring with her, she did not flinch as she stared down those large eyes, her face did not change as her skin became torn from claw and teeth. And when a Xelthor entered…

They say human hands were not born for fighting – they are dexterous, but with no more reinforcements than the rest of their body. Yet they taught themselves ways to fight with them anyways, and trained until their bones would break stone.

And on and on and on like that she went, battle after battle, until the rotation was done when her final opponent simply dropped from the exhaustion of so many previous battles. And we were to talk to that, because she was old friend of the Captain’s and “more than willing to be violent when necessary”.

I was scared. Terrified. Multiple levels of fear beyond that which the Common tongue could not fully describe. I was pacing the doorway in front of our rented resting place because I had rested and eaten multiple times during the rotation already and felt like I might be sick if I had done any more of either. I wanted to run, and – what? Feed the stereotype that Horenga were mostly weak cowards? Abandon the Captain and Asdelon, after all they’d done for me? But – but we were about to have a Human onboard! A fleshy, hairless, skin and bones death machine –

“Hello?”

The word was in Horengian (the global version of it, anyways) and while it was clear and understandable, it sounded…wrong. Like a machine had spoken it, except the voice was very clearly…

“Human?”

That was a rude way to address her, looking back on it. She did not mind though, instead only tilting her head slightly in a…shockingly familiar expression of confusion.

“Do you…prefer…the Common language?” Despite the pauses and hesitation and the accent (or, well, the complete absence of any accent), she was easily understandable. I was, of course, afraid for my very fragile life so I did not have an answer ready for her.

Luckily for me, it was at that moment that the Captain opened the door to investigate the noise. Xirs antennae rose fully up at the sight of the human, and her mouth curled upwards as she saw Xir (a human gesture of joy, the one that didn’t involve baring teeth).

Xir didn’t even turn on his translator, simply started clicking in his native Drugarian. And she answered back in kind, pulling her lips back and finally showing clear white teeth as she clicked back at him…somehow (Humans and their terrifyingly good mimicry.) The entire conversation afterwards happened entirely in Drugarian, and I wound up serving drinks for them almost out of an absence of other things to do.

The Human did not ever take off her coat – light brown, large, almost seeming to drag her down – and every time I turned my back to her, I could feel myself being watched. When the captain went to go fetch Asdelon, she turned and looked at me directly.

“You never answered my question, earlier.”

Cornered, instantly. Like a true predator.

“Well…I don’t mind whatever language you use, really. It’s not like I particularly like our global language.”

She moved her head up and down – nodding, a gesture of understanding in some cultures. “What’s your…original language, then?”

“Oh, no need to ask, it’s not like you need to learn it to really talk anyways if we’re going to be travelling together.” Deflect, quickly. “Why do you ask, anyways? The Common language was made for this situation, wasn’t it?”

The human tilted her head, again – the lack of moving ears removes much of the subtler indications in body language, so I wasn’t sure if she was just considering me or confused. She was staring at a point above my head, which – well, I appreciated, but still.

Eventually, when she spoke again, it was slow.

“The Common language…it is what we all have in common. The one through line to unite us disparate people. But it is not…comprehensive.”

She took off her coat, then – and I almost jumped when she let it drop onto the floor, its impact as heavy as if it was filled with sand.

“There are sandbags, in my coat.” Well, that explained it. “The gravity here…it is less than that of my home. Dirt, as we call it.”

Her lips curled up, briefly, at the name.

“The rotation cycle here is different as well. The people are of course different. Yet…when I see them…many are not from this world. Many do not need bags. They need other things. Things to maintain temperature, gravity…level of water.”

Her digits were moving, again, four of them thrumming a rhythm (humans sang, of course they did, anything with a voice like that could sing) as she tried to piece together her next words.

“The Common language is the thing we have in common. That we are people is another of those. But reducing so many people to only the things they have in common…it is like reducing a galaxy to a painting. Too much is lost in translation.”

There was a moment of silence. She was staring to a point to my right. I was looking just over her head.

“…we have a saying for that. In my language. Ylimuan Horenga, I mean. It…” I could not help but chitter a little at the irony. “It doesn’t translate very well.”

She tilted her head, a small amount to the other side. When her face changed this time, a little bit of teeth was showing, but she closed her lips almost immediately to hide it.

“Could you…teach it, to me?”

Excerpts from What Is Lost Between The Words by Linome Aiklion Prinou, translated into Earth English.

[i-fucking-hate-ppl]

Hello! I see that you write for Hazbin Hotel, I hope I'm not being a bother but I'd like to request Alastor with a friend/significant other that identifies as non binary. Seeing as he's from a time period where LGBTQ people weren't exactly accepted I wonder what his opinion would be. Would he be homophobic? Or would he be confused/slightly weirded out and need someone to explain to him for him to understand and accept?

You're hardly a bother dearie! I hope you enjoy!

Platonic

He would be confused and most certainly has no clue what you're going on about! Those terms hardly existed in his time, or at least weren't common knowledge, it was all just slurs unfortunately.

Even with his time in hell, he was too busy off doing his.. broadcasts and whatnot to become better educated on the subject.

Once you explain it he will.. still be rather confused but he's quite the polite and proper man, a gentleman really, so he won't ever say anything bad.

Just a "Oh! Well that's.. quite interesting!"

He might say some offensive things from time to time, on accident of course. A small correction is all that's needed.

"Sorry my dear! I wasn't aware!"

And that's that, he'll never say it again.

He tries to be respectful, and tries to avoid bringing it up so he won't offend you. And rather brings his question to random ass people he finds because he doesn't give two fucks about them.

If you start mentioning asexual he'll be like oh hey, that's me! Haha!

Obviously he gets better with time, and it's something you two bond over with a cup of tea.

"And he dared to misgender me, after i politely corrected him! What a prick am I right?"

"Most definitely dear. I could take care of him, if you wish."

"...Uh like bring him soup when he's sick or..."

Or

"A man came onto me on my way back this evening."

"Jesus! I hope he got what he deserved!"

"He most certainly did! I ripped his dick off! Haha!"

"...Good for you? I mean uh, you go!"

Sometimes you're slightly concerned by him..

Romantic

As stated before, confused and has no idea what you are talking about.

Although this time he is more interested, you are his lover after all, he should try to understand to his full extent!

He will ask you many questions, and word them very carefully so he won't upset you. And anything he think may be slightly offensive, well it's back to torturing questioning the information out of homeless people.

"You should have told me sooner dear! It's hardly an issue at all! I have no problem with the community, be a giraffe for all I care!"

"You shouldn't have a problem with the community since you're an ace in the hole, also that's.. a little bit offensive."

"A what now?"

Further explanation needed. He's heard it twice now, tell him.

Once you explain he'll realize that you were most certainly correct! Any sexual attraction towards you is very, very far and few between and most of the time he'd much rather just sit and read a book with you with some jazz playing from a radio in the backround.

He won't treat you any differently than he did before hand. <3

[tg-headcanons]

i just had this thought after watching one too many medical dramas, how are hospitals going to change after ghoul legalization? how many doctor will turn up all of a sudden being ghouls? will ghouls only be allowed to treat ghouls and humans only be allowed to treat human? and will the medical field evolve for the better for both humans and ghouls?

GHOULS IN HEALTHCARE

Medical care is not something most ghouls had access to, and ghouls aren’t something most doctors considered before, but after legalization and the promise made that ghouls would be given access to doctors, the need arose. It was a big shake up of the system, doctors pushing back against the idea of retraining, a lack of a plan for how to go about getting ghouls into hospitals, and even the common argument that ghouls should go the a vet instead. To try to handle this, former CCG ghouls researchers were offered positions in hospitals as the closest thing there is to a ghoul specialist. Between their knowledge of ghouls and doctor’s knowledge of medicine, the early access ghouls got was shoddy, not well researched, and often fraught with mistreatment and neglect

It got better as more ghouls came out, and the previous few ghouls who managed to become doctors became highly sought both as practitioners and for teaching medical students and leading studies. Humans making a big stand about refusing to be treated by a ghoul doctor we’re just loud and obnoxious because the ghoul doctors they’re oh so adamant about rejecting are way too busy founding a new branch of medicine

A lot of things had to be tested and researched. For the first time there’s ghouls that need prescriptions and treatments and they’re really trying to figure out what medicines in what doses work. Most ghouls make a few extra bucks here and there from studies desperate for a ghoul to take some pills and report results

The advancements in medical technology they got from ghouls were immense. Previously terminal diseases are getting treatments using ghoul rc cells. Previously irreversible chronic illnesses and injuries are making incremental progress for the better and increasing quality of life. Even organ donation is better. It turns out that if a ghoul with low enough rc donates a kidney or lung to a human who’s okay with a lifetime of rc supplements, it works just fine, and there’s ghouls now who’s whole job is just being an organ farm with a salary and benefits

Half-ghoul surgery becomes a rare, but lifesaving procedure. It took a long time for it to be okayed on human trials after the studies on the quinx and artificial ghouls came out to the horror of the entire medical community, but in some cases of extreme disfigurement and injury, if there’s a donor kakuhou available they can implant it. It’s a heavily regulated and closely monitored procedure, but a human who’s lost a significant portion of their body can be saved by the process of becoming na artificial ghoul, regenerate most of what they lost, then be given the treatment to remove the need for human flesh

Over time, more ghouls are going into the medical field, and when the original uproar from people upset at having to entrust their health to their predators died down, it became clear that they make great doctors. They can sniff out a lot of infection or diseases. They can smell blood and bile on someone’s breath. They can utilize adaptations meant for hunting humans to diagnose them and, when in an emergency, they tend to have no problems sticking their hands into a mess of a body. Many ghouls are sought out as emts and paramedics for that ability to sniff out blood and lack of disgust response when it comes to the nasty side of saving lives