#which I’m sure he has many opinions about

[fanartka]

Heartstopper and Jayvik crossover

I really love Alice Oseman's Heartstopper series and I think Charlie and Nick are very similar to Viktor and Jayce. Especially in matters of caring for your partner and “Did you eat well today Charlie/Vik?” So here's a crossover where Viktor and Jayce met in high school.

I'm still not entirely sure what kind of activities they were involved in, whether it was sports like in Heartstopper or maybe they are now in the back room of the laboratory. Hmm, why not, let's imagine that Viktor is not yet lame and a wonderful runner, like Charlie. Perhaps because in Zaun running fast is an excellent skill for survival. They play some Piltie game like rugby, and once a boy from a group of bullies intentionally bumps into Vik and breaks his leg so that now he not only can’t play rugby, but has to walk with a cane. I can imagine Jayce's feelings, but beyond all the despair, guilt and rage, he would be an incredibly caring and supportive partner (sorry for this little angst moment).

But for now they are happily kissing in the back room, not at all expecting that Miss Young will suddenly catch them. I really like to imagine them as teenagers in love. I absolutely adore the couple Charlie and Nick, they are such a cuties, and I am very grateful to the author Alice Oseman for showing what a healthy relationship should be.

And many thanks to my Sunshine @slasher-art , who introduced me to both fandoms, watching them with you was a great happiness❤️🩷.

Unfortunately, I haven’t had time to buy volumes 4 and 5 yet, they were quickly sold out in Ukraine, so I’m waiting for an additional edition, but those pages of the comic that are in the author’s account intrigued me incredibly.

Jayvik has some kind of magic of its own - they fit perfectly into any universe, any fandom, with them it would probably be possible to make a crossover with even Robinson Crusoe, even with the game Plants vs. Zombies.

And now, re-reading Heartstopper, which I fell in love with because of Charlie and Nick, I can easily imagine Viktor and Jayce in their place. Just imagine how Vik gets bullied at school because he's gay from Zaun who doesn't even have a last name (until Jayce suggests his own, of course😏), how Jayce chivalrously defends him, how they start liking each other more and more, and how Jayce desperately tries to find a book about bisexuality because Google hasn't been invented in their world yet.

By the way, when I started translating phrases from Ukrainian back into English, I realized that they could be translated differently from the original, and I started looking for the right page from the author and guess what? Some pictures in my book and the one posted by the author do not match! I wonder if it was because the book was still available for pre-order at that time and Alice Oseman later changed some pages for printing?

So if anyone here has the third volume in English, I would be very grateful if you open page 590 and write whether your pictures are the same as in my book or the same as in the author’s account (whiter version up here⬆️). By the way, I really like the softer color of the pages, so I made the background a little different. And I'm going to redraw some more moments I like there.

Fans of Charlie and Nick, Viktor and Jayce and anyone else are welcome to comment, I really love discussions, even if we have opposite opinions, the main thing is to conduct the discussion civilly.

[rosieyart]

okay, by popular demand (and by popular demand, i mean 3 people and my inability to keep my mouth shut) i am here with my saiou/ousai relationship + mini character analysis. this is an elaboration on this ask i got earlier !!

i should mention that i’ve only ever played through v3 once, so there is probably a lot i am missing, nuance wise and what not. i also haven’t edited this well, so it’s kinda just a word dump (sorry), so i’m not sure how understandable/coherent it’ll be. nor do i know how original my ideas are; there’s probably someone who’s dumped their opinions exactly like mine somewhere… in any case, here is my conclusion on why i think saiou is a rather intriguing ship and why i’m personally drawn to them, individually n otherwise ✌️

ouma kokichi. god what a complex character. some might argue otherwise, but i think his character and his arc throughout the game is not only hard to crack/understand, but integral to the v3 plot and overarching themes presented. well never truly know what he was thinking, and so many have already fought tooth and nail to defend or oppose him. in my humble opinion, however, the way i see it is this: ouma’s overall goal was to unite everyone against an active, obvious threat in the killing game. the mastermind was hidden amongst them, as they decided found out on, and by outing himself as the mastermind, making himself a clear and obvious target, it encouraged the remaining survivors to build trust within one another and fight together. kokichi realized very early on that no one was going to trust anyone as long as there was a hidden mastermind posing as a student within their group. he knew they weren’t going to get anywhere if they kept doubting each other — so in a very unorthodox way, he united them together. they didn’t need a friend, he realized, they needed an enemy. and by default, he sort of becomes shuichi’s nemesis as most antagonists in the games do.

i was on tiktok the other day and found this comment that i thought made a good point, regarding kokichi’s character and why people hate him.

though i am biased, i think it’s fair to say that in a world without the killing game, kokichi would want to be friends with shuichi. or at the very least, he’d be intrigued by him and push shuichi’s buttons to figure him out. i think it’s funny and such a nice detail to notice, but just as shuichi (and us, by default) are confused about kokichi and his actions, shuichi himself is actually a mystery to ouma as well. in the eng version, kokichi had shuichi labeled “trustworthy?” on his whiteboard meanwhile in the jp version, it’s “tricky/can’t figure him out.” in both versions regardless of translation, i think it’s fair to say that kokichi is intrigued and wants to understand shuichi better. one part of their dynamic i really love is the whole “i’m gonna annoy because it’s so fun and you react to said annoyances in ways i thoroughly enjoy.” and it’s fun, and silly, but i think it’s also kokichi’s way of figuring shuichi out. shuichi is… an anomaly. he’s an ultimate detective who’s supposed to search for the truth, yet he is ironically afraid of what he’ll find out. he has a knack for discovering and unearthing mysteries (he can’t help but connect two dots together) and yet he simultaneously is hesitant to discover more. he wants to find the truth, but is willing to tell lies in the classroom trials. this is a really fun juxtaposition with kokichi, who is notorious for telling lies and skirting around the truth like it’s the plague. and yet, they both want the same thing: to find out the truth and be done with this killing game. one is searching for the liars within their group, the other is finding out the truths.

this is one reason why i really enjoy saiou. one of the biggest themes for drv3 is the relationship between truths and lies. there’s the overarching “truth” of their world which is that it’s gone to hellfire and everyone but them are dead. the world ended. except, nope! that’s a lie! the *real* truth is that they’re in a killing game show. kokichi is known for telling lies, and so when he reveals the fire destroyed world outside and says that this is the truth out of the outside world, it’s ironic. kokichi knows there’s something else up, but he reveals the truth of the outside world to them (this, from what i understand/theorize, is ultimately to further everyone’s hatred towards ouma and help them form a close and trusting bond together, but the symbolism behind it is really interesting to me). “here is your truth,” he says, and they can’t dispute it as a lie because it’s right there in front of them. just like they couldn’t dispute gonta in the fourth trial.

except… what *really* defines truth? kokichi must’ve known the outside world was a lie, or that there was something more to it, otherwise why did he go through with his suicide in chap 5? to beat a dead horse: he tells a lie about the “truth” that is the outside world. we circle back to this lie vs truth theme in chapter six when shuichi starts questioning his sense of self. what is really true if he used to be someone else? if his memories and experiences are fake, does that make himself a fake human? a fake person? ultimately we come to know that it doesn’t matter — *he* gets to choose his own truth, even if there are lies buried beneath them. his memories may be fake, but his emotions and feelings aren’t. you cant fake the beating of your own heart or the pain you feel at knowing it’s all unreal, that it’s all a *lie*.

one thing i just thought was so so clever and genuinely helped me understand kokichi more was his friendship reward. for every friendship star completion thingy you complete, you get their underwear (💀) and a special skill to use in the trials. kokichi’s friendship reward is “kind lie.” he has a multitude of lies under his belt — real ones, hurtful ones, white ones, and ofc kind ones. you could argue his plan to deceive everyone as the mastermind was both a hurtful lie and a kind lie — he was ultimately lying for the greater good (imo). shuichi, despite being afraid of the truth, has no problem lying for the greater good either. i was so confused about the whole “perjury” aspect added to this game. i thought it was just another lame addition that didn’t make sense as a means of attempting to change it up a little in comparison to the last two games. but now i understand it’s greater purpose. lying is ultimately not a bad thing. not always, anyway. lying, as we find out, can help us pursue the truth. and i think kokichi knows this to be true in some ways, which is why he’s always acting so oblivious and naive at some times — or outright lying when he knows the truth is the opposite of what he’s saying. without a doubt, kokichi seriously helped move debates along during the trials. pretty sure whether you hate him or love him, people could agree to that. even if he appeared to be spouting nonsense or derailing the conversation, shuichi being the detective he is was able to slowly but surely understand (if only somewhat minimally) kokichi’s methods and thinking process. which is why chap 5 was so wild because it quite literally was all up to shuichi. kokichi single handedly put his trust into kaito to follow through with the plan, and shuichi to figure it out; NO ONE ELSE would’ve been able to figure it out except shuichi (except maybe maki but she was too stubborn to see thru to the truth). and that is like. holy shit??? that’s crazy to me and i think it shows that despite not trusting anyone and not knowing how it was going to turn out, kokichi took that gamble anyway. and it worked! except yknow. it also didn’t, in a way. all in all, the lying aspect of the trail grounds ties into the bigger overarching theme of choosing your own truth to live, and choosing what lies to believe in — good or bad.

side note: i think it’s so funny how mad kokichi gets when shuichi lies about seeing him in the virtual world in chapter four. had shuichi not lied, we wouldn’t have figured out it was gonta (or more likely, kokichi would’ve spoon fed the answer to everyone a bit more). gonta wasn’t supposed to have memory loss, and i have to wonder if not lying about kokichi would’ve made the trial go along if gonta still had his memories from the virtual world. in any case, when shuichi pulled the “yeah i actually did see you walk up the stairs” — the fact he LIED (mr “i’m searching for the truth so we can live and find the culprit” detective) to notorious king of liars ouma kokichi was so funny to me. like girl. ofc kokichi’s gonna realize you lied. and he did and he got so fucking mad over it and kokichi being petty like that and just saying “yeah okay gonta’s the culprit” is so funny to me. bro was LIVID he decided to just up and say the truth to be petty 😭

moving on, i think the big three characters juxtaposed with shuichi is something to note. those three being kaede, kaito, and kokichi. mayyyybe i’m looking a bit too much into this but i want to mention their relationship with shuichi and their character designs because it feels very intentional to me. a while back i discovered shuichi and kokichi have inverted color palettes — black with light accents vs white with dark accents. grey-ish yellow vs purple eyes. but the eye color inversion also actually applies to kaito and kaede, who, just like kokichi, have purple eyes. here is my argument: purple is an important color to the story, as it overall conveys a symbolism for trust and truth. if you look at those three’s color palettes, purple is a notable color. for kaito, it’s dominating. kaede, she’s a bit more desaturated, and kokichi it’s like his accent color. barely there, but noticeable nonetheless.

kaede is our first culprit (except she isn’t since her plan failed). she is trusting and sweet and kind and encouraging. she is desperate, *desperate* to find the mastermind first thing because she is heavily determined to help everyone escape. her color palette is a mix of purple and pink, with pink being more prominent and her purple being a more lavender shade. she’s desaturated in color, especially in her eyes, and i want to say this is likely symbolic of her desire to find the truth, yet her willingness to deceive others simultaneously. she’s not a bad person, far from it, but when she “kills” rantarou, she doesn’t own up to it immediately. she owns up to it eventually, but she also doesn’t take advantage of the first blood perk as a means of further trying to find the mastermind. she is willing to lie about her plan to shuichi (even if it’s lie by deception/not telling) and willing to take a risk to find and kill the mastermind. this, i believe, is why her eyes are so desaturated in purple; she is telling the truth, but it’s watered down.

kaito is almost the complete opposite of kokichi, but also not exactly the same as kaede. out of the three, he has the brightest purple eyes and the most purple on his body. he is a living, breathing, walking example of trust and truth. he wants to find the truth so badly and would never even THINK to tell a lie. would never even consider murder, even if it was the mastermind. his hair is purple, his jacket is purple, and his eyes are purple as all hell. purple, in my opinion, is a huge color resembling truth and trust. he *trusts* maki just because he wants to. he *trusts* shuichi just because he wants to. he wants to believe in them because he wants to find the good in everyone. his trust in them help bolster shuichi into a better mindset, especially after kaede, and encourages him to keep going. kaito might not be the brightest, nor the most helpful in the trials, but emotionally he is vital to shuichi. because he *trusts* shuichi.

kokichi has the least amount of purple in his color palette, but i think his purple accents are the most important out of all of the purple trio. if purple is the color of truth and trust, then having that color reflected on kokichi almost seems ironic and misinforming. except it isn’t. ouma kokichi, the notorious king of lies, is actually quite good at leading everyone towards the truth. the only purple on him is in the dyed tips if his hair and his eyes— almost like the truth his bleeding out of him, or rather just barely visible that you can’t make it out unless you focus hard enough. after all, at first glance i imagine everyone would take in the checkered scarf and the fact black and white is so prominent on him. i think it’s symbolic to have purple as his eye color. it’s a nice character design aspect imo, but it also harkens back to that one saying “the eyes are the window to the soul” or something long that line. despite what kokichi might say or do, the truth is in his eyes (literally). it’s silent and unassuming, but it’s there. his eyes are actually a brighter and darker purple than kaede’s. not as bright as kaito’s, but still something to note.

with all this being said, shuichi gets a difference sense of truth and trust from each of them. kaede provides him an equal dose of truths and lies, kaito gives him absolute truth, and kokichi gives him almost all lies to find the truth.

and i really, *really* love the dynamic between shuichi and kokichi with this whole truth vs lie theme. kokichi, as we learn in his free time events, loves to play games. he’s a bit childish but still extremely mature. his way of having fun is messing with people (though not necessarily in a mean way. after all, he makes the stakes extremely high and concerning, like killing yourself if you lose — but he still purposefully rigs each game so they end in a tie, or with shuichi winning. hell, he STABS himself, hurts himself, in the knife game that is in the final FTE and holy shit if that isn’t foreshadowing for chapter five idk what is. he is willing to hurt himself to avoid others getting hurt. obviously this can get more complicated when it comes to chap. 4. you could argue he hurt miu and gonta terribly and he should’ve died if what i said was true, but i would counter argue by saying the killing game would’ve gone on and on, just like tsumugi wanted, without his intervention there… still a heart wrenching trial nonetheless and gonta and miu both deserved better imo. but what would danganronpa be without unfair trials and bullshit like that?).

it’s this push and this pull, this dance, if you will, between shuichi and kokichi. kokichi is a trickster pulling various stunts and never revealing his hand, and shuichi is a detective trying to uncover his secrets. i think kokichi gets thrilled at the prospect of being uncovered like that — he lies and he lies and he *wants* someone to catch him. after all, in the love suite hotel his entire thing is phantom thief being captured by detective shuichi…… the fact he still says “because i love you shuichi” is fucking insane, but that’s actually not the most important part here. during the love suite, he brings up playing games again, just like in the FTEs. “you weren’t bored playing with me, were you?” kokichi asks. and then “are you mad because i toyed with you? don’t worry. i’m always thinking about you!—“ (bombastic side eye 🤨🏳️‍🌈) “—you’re always trying your best to catch me. i really have to give it my all to win .” and then shuichi points out directly after that he seems to be enjoying himself, despite being a “cornered criminal.” and that’s when kokichi admits that he *wants* shuichi to catch him. ….. oh boy the connotations here are kinda crazy but…. it gets even crazier. i cant believe this part is voice acted but here i’ll just link the video so people can watch. (from 4:32 to 5:10) a lot of this, esp towards the end, is likely for the whole romantic love suite hotel roleplaying thing going on to appease the audience playing the v3, but even still it’s such a fun dynamic. again, the push and the pull. it almost feels like a game of tag, the thing going on between shuichi and kokichi. except it’s hard sometimes to figure out who’s running after who. overall, kokichi is a liar and it’s hard to tell what he says is true, and shuichi is a detective hungry for truths.

side note 2.0: i think a lot of people hate saiou because it feels toxic and i can sorta see where they’re coming from: from a very bare bones glossing over their character dynamic, i could potentially see how they got to that conclusion, but i don’t think that conclusion did any real deep diving into their dynamic and characters. so no, saiou is not toxic. and also, it should be mentioned the moment shuichi shows signs of unease in the love suite hotel after kokichi shoved him over the bed, bro was up and out. kokichi respect boundaries and understands a no when he hears one 😁👍

tldr: truths vs. lies. games. purple = truths and trust. chasing after one another. saiousai cool ✌️👍

[no-pressure-wink-wink]

I see quite a bit of content out there that explores the idea of Sebastian feeling inhuman or dysphoric in his new mutated body, and plenty of content exploring themes of struggling with one’s own humanity for a variety of reasons relating to his situation.

Which is all great, I eat that all up. But I also haven’t seen anyone acknowledge the sheer potential of him learning to become comfortable in and even love his new body, even post-escape.

Although he will certainly find it harder to function in a society that wasn’t built for him (which would make for a great disability allegory in my opinion), he also is capable of many things that he couldn’t ever do as a human.

But above all, I started writing this post because I was like: “Sebastian’s mutated form is honestly so metal, if he decided to start a band it’d be amazing”

Logically, having anyone see him like this — especially the larger public — would be horrible for him. But in a more idealistic setting he could pass off his mutation as an intricate costume and movie-grade makeup, write songs about his actual experiences, and shred away and people would LOVE to hear it. Plus making music would probably be a good coping mechanism for him. And with how technology and social media has advanced since he’s been gone, he could just be a purely online artist to reduce the risk of anyone getting touchy or accidentally finding him out if he were to have a live concert.

He’d just need to collect enough people that can be trusted with his secret to form a band. p.AI.nter could work if he had a body, and once they’re free, I’m sure Sebastian could make one given he has better access to more resources. I imagine p.AI.nter would play the drums. He just has that energy. He could even design the album covers! I’m sure he’d love that.

This all stemmed from me waking up like twenty minutes ago and the first thing my mind conjured was Sebastian going: “quit your job, join my emo band”, so now you are all subjected to another one of my long posts.

[rainbowxocs]

(Reference coming soon)

(CURRENT THIS REFERENCE IS BASED ON THE MYTH. I WILL UPDATE IT ONCE THE MYTH IS OVER.)

Written by meeee!!

Name: Evren Nevermore!!

Alter of: Daisy Bell!!!

Role: Protector!

Alt Names: The Void, The Skybox!!

Special Titles: The Prophet.

Username: lappelduvide!! It’s a pun. Hehe.

Nicknames: Little Raven, Prophet, Caesar, Brutus.

Age: 17!!

Pronouns: Any Pronouns!!

Sexuality: eh whatever.

Gender: eh whatever.

Species: Technically, I am the same species as Daisy but like- I am a void. What is a void? Great question!! I dunno cause I kinda made it up Im going to be so for real.

Disorders: I have the same disorders as Daisy.

Physical Disabilities: I have the same disabilities as Daisy.

Religion: Daisyism, obviously.

Job: My main job is to like, protect Daisy obviously, but also to keep track of the domain and make sure everything is like chill and stable and stuff.

Lives in: I live in the Skybox/Void.

Languages: I can speak any language basically. I mean I’m literally a computer I can just google translate everything it ain’t that hard-

Height: 6ft!!

Accent: Otherwordly, No Discernible Origin.

Voice Claim: Amethyst from Steven Universe.

Spirit Level: Acceptance baby.

Powers: I have the same powers as Daisy. I just tend to focus on like reality bending stuff, wind and sky stuff, prophecy is a big one, yknow that kinda thing.

Weaknesses: I have the same weaknesses as Daisy.

Strings Form: Myyy strings are white cause we gotta MATCH obviously.

Soul: Mycena Lazulina!!

Weapons: Windforce Sword!!!

Alignment: I am chaotic neutral.

Text Color: Blueee!

Main Animal: Ravens!

Main Hobbies: I don’t really have time for hobbies with all the work I gotta do.

Favorite Food: Apples. I don’t really eat so.. not much else..

Favorite Flower: Lily of the Valleys!!! They’re pretty. Also they’re the fancy flowers you get in animal crossing.

Scent: Blueberries.

Handedness: Ambidextrous.

Blood Color: Good luck stabbing me to find out. It’s probably red though.

Awareness: Oh I am very aware.

Birthday: Same as Daisy, December 20th.

Theme:

Battle Theme:

Playlist:

Fun Facts: She knows all, She sees all, She speaks all.

Special Interests: Greek Mythology, Philosophy, History!!

Stims: Playing with clouds, flying around, spinning!!

Stimboard: [???]

Moodboard: [???]

Fashion Board: [???]

Comfort Objects: Im not a child. I don’t have any.

Here’s the part you really want to know yeah? WHAT ARE EVRENS OPINIONS ON YOU PEOPLE.

Family:

Cosmo. I feel absolutely no feelings towards this man I think he is stupid and he calls me little raven which IS RUDE. (0%)

Kriston. …he’s my dad… can we STOP TALKING ABOUT IT NOW. (100%)

The Cranes. They all seem like decent people. I haven’t met most of them.. but they keep Daisy safe and protected.. and that’s all that matters to me. (100%)

Jessa. SHE MIGHT BE MY MOM I DONT KNOW WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME SO MANY QUESTIONS GOD. (100%)

Ebro4. I go back and forth on him. I think he is a good man but he often gets.. blinded by more than his blindfold.. (30%g

Zailyn. I respect her a lot. She has done a lot of good for Daisy and protects her well. I can’t really complain about her really. (50%)

Friends:

Grat. I like Grat!! He’s a very silly demon. I have fun playing with him. :) (50%)

Zan. Zan is neat, I find her to be pretty funny. (50%)

Alice. Alice is funny, me and her often play together. She loves flying on my clouds with me. (50%)

Star. Star is neat!! I really enjoy them.. They are kinda like my personal hype squad.

Mouse. I respect her. I haven’t really interacted with her much directly due to our paths never really aligning. (50%)

Sleuth. Clockhead is funny. I like that.. he takes care of us though.. he- doesn’t have to do that.. (90%)

Romance: Aculia. Her system included in this of course. I.. really.. love her.. I- trust her wholeheartedly.. I would die for her.. (100%)

Therapist: Jonah Francois. Jonah is alright. I have no issues with him, I just am a little bit antsy when I have to bear my neck for someone.. (80%)

Enemies: Enemies is a bit of a strong word. This is more “people I disagree with on a fundamental level spiritually and emotionally”

Camilla. Okay maybe I have one enemy fuck this bitch I hope she dies in a fire. (0%)

Radio. I cannot forgive him for what he has done to Daisy. I fundamentally disagree with everything he stands for. Chaos above all else is meaningless. (0%)

Venus. If he truly thinks he can contain and control me then he is more of an idiot than I thought. (0%)

Emily. I understand why she did it, but I don’t know if I can forgive her for it. (0%)

Brief Personality: [wip]

Brief Backstory: [wip]

[chalamet-chalamet]

"I just don't want to use those words, 'isolated' and 'fear' and 'paranoia. I just think its not the correct way to go about the fortune and blessing that it is to work, whether they ring true or not, and bring attention to that kind of feeling-state. Even if it's valid, it's not really somewhere I want to go."

-Timothée Chalamet discussing fame in Rolling Stone’s December 2024 cover story

[thelilylav]

I’ve gotta admit as much as I know Darabella is a flawed ship (and some of the ppl who are anti for it have legit criticisms I love y’all for pointing it out cause it frustrates the hell out of me too trust) they’ll always just kind of be it for me.

Because as much as it was an “I can fix him” trope, as much as Rosabella could be selfish and Daring’s flaws got cranked up to 1000, she was also the first person to look at him after his destiny, the thing he dedicated his life to, failed, when people were questioning him as a prince and putting pressure on his and Apple’s relationship and tell him that, like, maybe it would be alright? Maybe this wasn’t his destiny, and maybe that was okay.

And the part that really gets me? She’s the first person after this happens to tell him that it doesn’t matter what’s on the outside, which as much as you can like other Daring ships or him whatever he desperately needed to hear. Not even cause he was selfish, that’s not what I’m saying, but bc he placed his whole identity on this image that people concocted for him based on him appearing the perfect prince. He was handsome, he was talented, and he was handsome! So who cares about him as a person?

Idk man. You spend four seasons (I watch the specials on Netflix so that’s why four idk if it’s three to some ppl or whatever tho) watching him be praised for his looks, watching girls fawn over him, and of course he enjoys it so nobody really questions how much he enjoys it. And then you get this girl, this girl who owes him nothing, this girl who (contrary to popular belief apparently) has a life of her own and people she cares about outside of him, and she’s nice to him. And she’s the first person after everything happens to just be nice to him, for the sake of being nice. Something about that will always hit different for me

[sniffle-bird]

so many people hate eurylochus to like. an insane degree. because they think everything he does are acts of self preservation and it’s NOT it’s preservation of the CREW because he’s the voice of the crew RRRASWRRRR

odysseus, polities and eurylochus were such good buddies and worked so well together because odysseus lead them, polities kept high spirits (this makes him sound like a cheerleader. but like idk how else to describe it? he like encourages whimsy. idk.) and eurylochus kept both of them grounded so they wouldn’t do anything stupid. and it was perfect until polities died.

without polities, the crew couldn’t find the positives in odysseus going up to the island to meet with aeolus. it was only eurylochus arguing his opinion, which is, “don’t go, it’s stupid,” literally, physically grounding him. obviously this was going to sway the crew in his favour immensely. eurylochus is like 10x more approachable than odysseus to the crew. eury’s their buddy. ody is the champion of a goddess and their king. so not only does ody then not have that extra polities voice in the argument to help lead ody to a logical conclusion which benefits everyone, he is instead clashing with eurylochus and subsequently the rest of his crew. this pretty much goes the same way for most of the other disagreements they have for the rest of the journey.

eurylochus is also forced to fill in the space that polities left in supporting odysseus as he’s their captain, but he struggles with bridging the gap between seeing him as his captain/king and seeing him as his friend. which is why he switches between calling him, “captain/sir,” to “odysseus,” to “ody,” during mutiny, and then back to “captain.” it’s a verbalisation of his view on odysseus.

so when it comes to opening the windbag, the crew is already on edge about it. he went up alone after fighting with the closest friend he has left in the crew, refuses to open the bag, the winions are all telling them it’s treasure. and there is such a blatant lack of trust between them that likely wasn’t present before; ody would rather stay awake for nine days straight than trust eury not to open the bag. and eurylochus, being naturally mistrusting of gods and mythical creatures in general, would not trust the origins of this bag. he would not trust his friend’s behaviour to be true. he would likely make the connection that the wind bag is making him act like this, so he takes it from him and opens it. not mentioning the insane pressure from the crew he’s likely been put under.

so yeah. people love to paint him as this evil-doer that was trying to usurp odysseus from the beginning but the mutiny only happened because everyone could tell ody was losing himself to this whole “monster” thing, which is what they needed to get home with as many men as possible, but nobody else is likely going to fully realise that unless you sit them down and explain to them the whole process of the journey and explain every little detail in everything that happened. much less eurylochus who is, as established, very stubborn, and very mistrusting of things he does not understand. he didn’t think ody was fit to lead anymore; it wasn’t that he sacrificed six men to scylla, it’s that he just did it and didn’t think of any alternative plan. he didn’t consult anyone else, he just did it. eurylochus could see he was driving himself a little crazy over getting home to his wife. like i’m sure there would’ve been some people who would have volunteered to hold the torches if they all held a big meeting.

and then the cow. how does nobody realise killing helios’s cows is a suicide attempt? eurylochus knew they were going to die, he did not believe they were going to make it home, at least with the cows he can control it and at least his crew won’t die hungry.

anyways. this is a huge wall of text. i know eurylochus haters HATE to see me coming, i’m his no. 1 defender and apologist he does no wrong.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 10

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader manage to discuss the direction of their physical relationship between makeouts. reader isn't feeling comfortable at her apartment, so they plan their first trip together.

series masterlist

this fic is 18+ warnings/tags: d/s dynamics but not smutty, softdom!spencer/sub reader, mild pda?, hint at switch!spencer, they talk about sex/how r feels about her first time, making out, r has long hair, almost dry humping if you're standing several miles away, unresolved sexual tension, teasing/flirting. don't like? don't read a/n: yayyyyy hi guys!! no idea when part 11 will be out. I missed them. I love them so bad. they are my favorite ever. they are so special to me 4ever. hope u missed them and ur just as happy to see them happy as I am :")

“Do you like eyelet?” Spencer asks, reaching up to grab a set of sheets you couldn’t. He insists that you let him get everything from the top shelf because it’s been handled less. 

You shrug, distracted by the angle of his jaw and the line of his throat as he retrieves the plastic package. 

It’s Sunday. Three nights in a row spent with him—the longest sleepover streak thus far—and you don’t want to go back to sleeping alone tonight. But you know it’s time. Both of you have things to attend to tomorrow, and you’re not exactly in the habit of getting things done when you’re together. All weekend you’ve lounged in his lap on the couch or tangled yourself in his arms in bed—fully clothed, of course. Spencer had suggested the no-sex rule on Friday, and you’re glad for it. You feel no pressure to be doing more when he’s kissing you or holding you. 

Of course, the concept of having sex again crosses your mind—when you’re washing your face and catch a glimpse of the bruises on your neck in the mirror, or when the tips of Spencer’s fingers trace idly over a span of exposed skin on your lower back as you watch a movie on the couch and you’re struck with desire, or you move just right and feel a tiny lingering twinge of soreness. There was a time when if you had Spencer Reid to yourself for three nights, a Navy SEAL wouldn’t have been able to pull you off of him. Now, when you think about the fact that there will be a second time, you get that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling—but you’re not sure if it’s good or apprehensive. 

Either way, it’d be too much right now. 

You do miss feeling that kind of closeness with him. That intimacy. It can’t be replicated, no matter how many naps you take together. Probably something to do with brain chemicals and hormones. He could explain it all, if you were brave enough to ask. 

So you know it’d be too much… but it’s not that you don’t want it. There is also, of course, the issue of the way he looks. It’s not helping your cognition. It’s not encouraging you to make good choices. 

You’re not supposed to be thinking about sex. You’re supposed to tell him if you like eyelet. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

Spencer gives you an exasperated look and sighs. He’s wearing his glasses today. His hair is freshly washed and fluffy. The navy blue sweater he’s wearing is about the only step between a button down and pajamas for him, and he looks good in casual clothing. You chew your lip. 

He doesn’t notice your ogling. “You’ve said that about everything.”

“I’m really not that passionate about the fabric of my sheets,” you defend, shoulders rising and dropping. 

“Surely you like some of them less and some of them more. Usually you jump at the chance to express an opinion.”

Okay. Uncalled for. 

He’s obviously kidding. You overreact anyway. 

“You suck,” you mumble, brushing past him in search of something suitable for your bed. 

Spencer processes this for a moment and then trails after you down the aisle. 

“I suck?”

“Here, look. Bamboo. That’s good, right?”

Your boyfriend glances at the package you’ve selected, probably holding back a whole host of facts about bamboo farming in China. 

“It’s fine. Why do I suck?”

“Because you implied I’m opinionated.”

“I didn’t imply it. It was an explicit statement.”You groan petulantly and put the sheets back on the shelf with force. Spencer picks them up and follows you deeper into the store. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“You didn’t,” you huff, turning around to face him once you’re safely sequestered in a new aisle. The store’s not busy—an elderly couple roams for fake fruit and towels, humming vacantly to the Muzak, and a single mom wrangles her kids in a cart. Back here, it’s just the two of you. “Not really.”

“Then what did?” He asks gently, stepping closer. Spencer’s not overly-affectionate in public, but the tone of his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he can see your thoughts, feels intimate. 

You’re helpless when he gets like this, and he probably knows it. It’s an abuse of power and when you can think straight again you’ll have to scold him for it. 

“It doesn’t even matter. You’re just gonna drop me off after this anyway.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy, eyes alight with a good puzzle as he quickly strings together the facts in his head. 

“Is that it?”

You frown and hesitate, eyes catching on a loose thread at the hem of his sweater. 

“… No.”

“Yeah, it is. You’re upset because I’m taking you home.”

You scramble to deny. “That’s not it.”

“I think it is,” he murmurs, a smile playing at the corners of his perfect mouth. 

You study the waxen floor tiles intently. 

“Well… I mean, would that be weird? You’re gonna miss me too, right?”

You sound unsure—insecure, even. When you look back up at him, his eyes are melted chocolate, even under the fluorescents. He glances down at your mouth briefly and then over your shoulder. 

Pleasekissmepleasekissmepleasekissme.

He doesn’t, but you can tell he really wants to, which is almost as good. 

“Of course, I’m going to miss you. But we’ll see each other soon. Probably tomorrow.”

“Unless you get called out on a case. But it’s not even really that. It’s just—how am I supposed to… I don’t know! We just spent three nights together. How am I supposed to go back to sleeping alone for a whole week?”

Maybe you’re too attached to him now, because acknowledging the thought which has been lurking all morning opens the floodgates that were holding back a sea of dread, and you feel it in every inch of your body. Five nights alone stretch out before you like an infinite, impassable forest. Friday is an eternity away, and there’s no guarantee he’ll even be here Friday night, if the team gets a case. 

Spencer somehow regards you with both curiosity and innate wisdom, like you’re a new specimen in a familiar field, for a long enough moment that your cheeks begin to warm. 

“Sorry, that was embarrassing. I’m being weird, it’s fine—”

Just as you go to walk away, he pulls you carefully back in by the wrist, even closer than before. 

“No. You’re sweet,” he murmurs, hand warm even through the knit of your sleeve. Gingerly you look back up at him. 

“But you’re not gonna miss me as much as I miss you.”

“Do not undermine my capacity for yearning. I missed you when you were brushing your teeth this morning.”

“Ooh. So clingy,” you tease, though you’re obviously delighted by the information, and he borderline pouts. 

“Don’t say that. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you laugh as he pulls you to his chest, keeping you there with a hand to your back. 

“Okay. Now say you love me.”

For a moment you’re distracted by the proximity, the lowering of his voice as he brings you into his space and your faces are only inches apart. The smell of his body wash coming from both of you. 

“I love you,” you breathe, and it’s not as teasing as you’d meant for it to be as his eyes dart to your lips. 

Even though you’re bossy, is what you don’t say. 

This seems to please him, because finally, he’s tilting his head down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. It’s still enough to make you lightheaded. 

“Apology accepted. I love you too,” he murmurs. And then he’s pulling back, trying to walk around you. “Do you wanna stop for coffee on the way back to yours?”

“Wait,” you order, suddenly listless and disoriented in the middle of the aisle. “You’re not gonna…”

Spencer frowns back at you.

“I’m not gonna what?”

“You’re not gonna… say it?”

“… I love you? I did say that.”

“No, there’s—usually when I do stuff you ask me to do, you say—”

Only when the first ray of understanding illuminates his face do you realize you actually shouldn’t have said anything at all. 

“Nevermind. Yeah, let’s just go.”

Spencer catches your arm again as you attempt to walk past him, laughing quietly as he leans down to speak in your ear. 

“I am not calling you good girl in the small decorative statues aisle.”

“What if we go back to the bedding aisle?” You ask, through the warmth of your own cheeks. 

It’s sort of a joke. 

“Remember what I said about appropriate context?”

“All those sheets, and duvet covers, and stuff. It’s basically the same.”

When he doesn’t respond, you gather the courage to tear your eyes from a little robot statue and look at him. Eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed, warmed only by a hint of humor. A barely detectable curve of the mouth. 

Oops. With all your blind-button pushing, you might’ve accidentally tapped the one responsible for all the marks on your neck—the one that makes him tick in a way which usually ends with you underneath him. 

And then, for the first time, you actually watch as he pushes it down—activates some sort of self-cooling system. Probably he understands that whether you meant to be provocative or not, this interaction isn’t headed in a salacious direction. Even if you weren’t in public, the rule is holding fast. 

His hand slides from your arm to intertwine with your fingers. 

“What are you doing next week?”

You blink at the sudden change in subject and tone. 

“Uh… I don’t know. Working, probably.”

“From home?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He chews his lip thoughtfully. 

“I… still have a few days of annual leave that I need to use. I don’t know if this is… this might be too much, and you can say no. But Rossi has a place in Shenandoah. It’s a cabin—it’s, it’s really nice, I’ve seen pictures. He used to use it for hunting, I guess now he rents it out in the summer and fall but it’s empty during the off-season and he’s always offering it to the team. It’s only like, an hour away. An hour and nine minutes actually, if you take the 66 Express outside the Beltway from Arlington. I looked it up, um… semi-recently. I’m sure he’d let us use it, if you wanted to come burn four days of leave with me. No pressure. Of any kind. I could also, just, y’know, stay home, and we could still spend time together that way. We could finish Deep Space Nine. Or watch something else. Or watch nothing. Whatever you’d like to do.”

Your heart rate has been increasing steadily since he started his impromptu speech—you’re glad he seems nervous inviting you. You’re a little nervous accepting. A trip together is definitely a new step. But getting the hell out of dodge with him for a few days sounds wonderful. 

“I’d love to go,” you say earnestly. 

Spencer’s face goes blank for a second, and then his eyebrows raise, like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes. 

“Oh. Oh! Great! Okay, I’ll—I’ll talk to Rossi about it tomorrow.”

He remains highly chipper as he hands his card over to the cashier for your new overpriced bamboo sheets. 

The promise of getting Spencer to yourself for four consecutive days and nights is the only way you’re able to fall asleep to a cold bed that night. 

It’s harder, at home now—you’re self-conscious of every and any noise. Music, cooking, talking on the phone. 

It doesn’t make sense, because you know you can’t hear your neighbors, so they shouldn’t be able to hear you, and Jerry’s a creep, who might’ve made the whole thing up just to get under your skin—but it’s all you can think about, when you’re there. 

Monday evening, Spencer comes to visit, as promised. You undo all the locks and open the door just enough for him to slip through. 

He kisses you hello as you close the door and sets his things down at the table while you relock. 

“No Jerry today?”

“Nope. I haven’t seen him since Friday.”

“Good,” Spencer says only once you turn, a distinct chill to his tone and a mostly unfamiliar frigidity to his eyes. It’s not directed at you, but it’s unnerving nonetheless, so you draw closer and wrap your arms around his waist—hoping to melt him back into your Spencer. 

He reciprocates, speaks softer now that he has you in his arms, and immediately you feel better. 

“Rossi said yes to us staying at the cabin and Emily said I can take the time off. Did you still wanna go?”

You’re pre-occupied with your face buried in his shirt, so you just nod, basking in the scent of his shower products once more. They’ve gone from simply comforting to intoxicating. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks quietly, brushing your hair over your shoulder. His fingers barely glance off your neck and you almost shiver. Want begins to pool deep and warm in your stomach as you lift your head and he looks down at you, so fondly. 

Want which you can’t afford to feel if you’re not willing to act on it. 

“I’m fine,” you breathe. Fuck. He’s too close. He’s too hot. You pull away and move to the kitchen. “Um, dinner. What do you want? We could make something. Or order something. I don’t have much, honestly.”

“I’ll be happy with anything. You sure you’re alright?”

“I don’t want to have sex!”

The words simply explode out of you, like a bat out of hell as you whip around. Just barely you manage not to clap a hand over your mouth in mortification. 

You stand, back to the fridge, watching Spencer nervously for his reaction. 

His brow knits. His lips part and close again several times. 

You’re wondering what the fastest and most convenient method of not being alive anymore would be when he finally answers. 

“… Okay. I wasn’t trying to initiate anything, did I—did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know that while I’m still, like, figuring things out—like, with my neighbor and everything—it’s just a lot, so… so I know this past weekend we agreed to not do anything and I think it would be best to… keep not doing anything. Just for now. I shouldn’t have said it like that—I didn’t actually… mean to say it. I was gonna, um, find a way to bring it up more delicately.”

You clear your throat and look down to study the patterned tile, cheeks burning. 

By way of several nervous glances up at him and back down, you watch Spencer silently come to lean against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Okay. Thank you for telling me. We’re not ever going to do anything you don’t want to do. But, out of curiosity… is this just because of your neighbor? Or because you maybe don’t feel ready yet?”

He’s asking gently, because he wants to know, and you know there’s no wrong answer. It’s still nerve-racking.  

“Um… like, a combination of the two, I guess. Mostly… the neighbor. I think. But I’m telling you this because…” and here comes the worst part. “I need you… to… hold me accountable.”

“For what?” He asks plainly, but you know what he sounds like when perfectly suppressing a smile. The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your face as you close your eyes and forge ahead in the name of open and honest communication—something the two of you are trying to work on.

“If I… come on to you… you have to turn me down.”

This is not getting any less embarrassing. 

“Should I anticipate you coming onto me?”

“Probably,” you sigh, looking at him through your lashes and bringing your hands to your cheeks, hoping maybe they’ll cool you down and poor circulation will work in your favor for once. “I know myself. You know me. I like… asking you for things. But for the rest of the week, if I do… you know, want something from you—you have to tell me no.”

Spencer nods slowly. “What if you genuinely change your mind?”

“I won’t. I might think I have, I might even tell you I have, but don’t believe me, okay? I don’t think straight when I’m turned on, and if we do anything, I’ll like it until fucking Jerry is pounding my door down the next day, and I just can’t deal with that.”

Spencer’s face goes completely void of expression to the point that if it weren’t for context clues you’d have no idea he’s probably imagining pistol-whipping the guy. 

“Has he knocked on your door?” 

Testosterone. 

“No. Back to my point. I’m trusting you to keep me in check so I don’t do anything I’ll… I’ll end up regretting. Not that I regret the other night!” You scramble just as Spencer’s brow begins to furrow. “I don’t. I just regret that my gross neighbor had to get involved. And I don’t want that to happen again. So… is that… is that okay? Will you do that for me?”

“Of course I will,” Spencer says gently, without hesitation as he pushes off the counter. “Can I ask a follow-up question?”

You nod and regard the space between you, unsure if you want to eliminate it or keep using it like a buffer. By not coming to you, he’s giving you the choice. 

“You said this was mostly because of your neighbor. But you didn’t sound sure. It’s fine if you aren’t feeling ready yet. I just want to make sure I know what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t really know,” you admit, after a brief pause. “I feel like… as long as I know he’s on the other side of the wall I wouldn’t even be able to wrap my head around how I actually feel. It’s also confusing because, like I was saying, I… just because I feel like I want something in the moment, doesn’t necessarily mean I’m actually ready for it, you know? I don’t even know if… I don’t even know what being ready again really means or would look like.”

“You did the other night.”

“Yeah, but that was different. Because now I’m gonna think I know what I’m getting myself into, but that’s not necessarily true.”

Another pause in which you chew your lip and look away. 

“I don’t want you to overthink it, honey. I think being ready just means you’re comfortable, and you’re with someone who’s going to keep you safe, and nobody’s pressuring you, and you’re not, you know—pressuring yourself. Wanting it is actually really important, too. But what I’m hearing right now is that even if you might want it, you’re not in a place that feels safe. And that makes sense to me. So we’re just not gonna do anything until that changes, okay?”

Eyes still cast downward, your lips twist into a sardonic little smile. 

“I feel like I’m talking to my therapist.”

He laughs with a single breath. 

“I really hope your therapist doesn’t speak to you like I do. The ethics there would be highly questionable.”

The joke refreshes your courage and you look back up at him, smile still edged with humor but mostly unspoken gratitude. 

The half-smile on Spencer’s face, however, is fading steadily as he studies you in flickering passes. Like there’s something still on his mind. You were hoping for a subtle invitation back into his arms, but the space between you remains—infused now with a tension as it becomes increasingly obvious. 

“Also… this trip we’re going on. I feel like I should say this—I don’t know if it was even on your mind, but… I don’t want you to feel pressured to have sex just because of the timing. Me inviting you on a last-minute trip to an isolated cabin—it’s not a master plan to get you to sleep with me again, I promise. I really just wanted us to be alone. Not—not that kind of alone—I mean, we’ll be alone, but it doesn’t have to be like that. I was just thinking about how nice it was for us to get those three nights together, you know, and the whole weekend too, and with my job, that’s not always going to happen, so it just seemed like a good opportunity—”

“Spencer,” you laugh, letting the tension snap like a rubber band as you go to him, slinging your arms over his shoulders, delighted to be the one doing the interrupting and not the flustered rambling, for a change. “I know you don’t have an ulterior motive. As for what kind of alone we’re going to be… we’ll figure that out, okay? Don’t worry about me. I don’t feel pressured by you. I never have. If anything, I’m the one who pressures you for sex.”

You’ve got him smiling once more, as his hands find your waist and his gaze flips from your mouth to your eyes and back again. It goes very subtly mischievous in a way you don’t quite trust, but he’s dipping his head to kiss you, and something tells you it’s going to be a good one, so when your nose bumps against his, and you can feel his breath on your lips, you’re not at all prepared for him to speak. 

“Begging is not the same as pressuring, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing you so thoroughly you don’t even have time to be properly affronted. The offended gasp gets stuck in your throat, and melts into a tiny huff as it turns out the kiss is a very good one. You can’t think hard enough to be offended. Not even when he chuckles against you. 

“That’s not fair,” you mumble when he allows you a second to breathe. He hums, satisfying himself with kisses to your cheek and playing along. 

“What’s not fair?” 

“You… I was supposed to have the upper hand in that situation! You were the nervous one for once!”

Another hum, buzzing against your lips this time. 

“You have to learn how to take the upper hand, angel. I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s a big part of my job.”

Admittedly it’s hard to think when he talks like this, but you try. 

“So… you manipulate me? That’s not very romantic.”

He laughs quietly again. 

“No. I do not manipulate you.”

“You’re just a control freak,” you tease. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, immediately, still soft-spoken as he pulls back to carefully search your eyes. “Does that bother you?”

You search hands and knees for a crumb of outrage, for a hint of any of that strong feminist theory you’ve instilled into your brain over so many years. 

There’s nothing to be found. 

“No,” you admit, dejectedly, hanging your head as much as he’ll allow. “Should it?”

“Only if you don’t like it. When I take the upper hand like that, I’m really just… posing a yes or no question. So far, you lean towards saying yes. You let me win. But you don’t have to.”

“What happens if I… if I don’t let you win?”

He angles his head, coaxing you to look in his eyes once more. A hand comes up to swipe a dot of mascara from under your brow. He’s looking at you so serenely, like none of this is at all complicated. 

“Whatever you want. I wouldn’t be the one making the rules anymore.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

You laugh nervously. 

“That’s a lot of pressure. What if… I want you to keep making the rules? For forever?”

He kisses you again, insistently enough you have to tilt your head back. When he answers, it’s low, a promise, and pressed right against your waiting mouth. 

“Then I will.”

You loose a tremulous breath from your parted lips and you know he can feel it. He can feel how you’re clinging to his shirt, pressing yourself closer, how your skin has warmed and your breaths have hastened, he can probably taste how much you want him, how you’re already thinking about giving it all up for him—

And maybe that’s why he laughs dryly into your mouth before pulling away. 

Because he’s a good boyfriend. 

Spencer knits his brow and clears his throat as his hand slides down your arm, eyes narrowed like he’s wondering how things escalated so quickly. You certainly are. 

Suddenly he’s back to the nerd you met in a coffee shop all those months ago, and you like him like this, too. “So… dinner?” 

“Mhm. Yeah. We should… we should definitely eat. What do you wanna eat?”

You don’t miss the quick once over he gives you. Or the way his throat bobs once he tears his eyes away. 

“Um… how does Indian sound?”

You swear you don’t know how it happened. 

Everything was going fine—there was food on the coffee table, a show on the TV. Spencer made tea. It was wholesome. 

And then, somewhere between setting the plastic takeout bag down and actually opening it, you ended up like this. Kneeling next to him on the couch, one hand braced on his thigh, the other tangled in his hair as you kiss slow. Like this could actually be leading somewhere. 

“We should stop,” he reminds you, even as his hand traverses up your leg. You lean further into him—he has to tip his head back to meet your lips. 

“We’re kissing. It’s nothing.”

“You were—” kiss. “Just telling me—” kiss. “That you don’t want this right now.”

Deep kiss. The grip he has on your hip does not agree with his words. 

“This is just kissing. Kissing isn’t sex.”

Even as you’re saying it, you’re throwing your leg over his lap, landing in a straddle. 

“No,” he groans as if pained, throwing his head onto the back of the couch and depriving you of his mouth. “Baby. You have to get off. We can’t do this.”

“My bathroom—we could—it doesn’t share a wall with his apartment, we could go in there and turn on the shower and we could be really quiet—”

Suddenly there’s a hand over your mouth. It’s not yours. 

“Please stop before I say yes.”

You pull his hand away, fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

“You should. You should say yes. It’s a good idea, I know he wouldn’t be able to hear us over the shower—”

“It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that you asked me to turn you down not even an hour ago, no matter what you say, and I said I would.” He takes a shuddering deep breath. “And… I’m going to. I’m saying no.”

“No,” you whine, head falling to his shoulder, because you know he’ll keep his promise. He cups the back of your head—a kind, sympathetic gesture, which does nothing to alleviate the heat of your blood or the ache between your legs. You pout into his neck. “This is terrible. I might not survive.”

“I think you will.”

“Maybe if I enter a coma.”

He laughs and strokes your thigh. 

“There are worse things than sexual frustration.”

“Not right now. This is the worst thing I can imagine.”

“I’m so sorry. You poor thing.”

You pull back to face him, hands on his shoulders. 

“Oh my god. Don’t act like it’s not bothering you.”

“I’m not bothered.”

“I know that’s not true. You know how I can tell?”

The slightest adjustment of your hips draws attention to exactly what you mean. Spencer goes completely deadpan. 

“Stop,” he orders in monotone, and you laugh even you allow yourself to be tossed back onto the couch because you’ve successfully flustered him again. He puts a throw pillow over his lap and leans forward, hiding his blush beneath perfect hands with a tortured groan. “You’re terrible.”

The couch attempts to suck you in as you wriggle back from a lying position, propping yourself up on your elbows and grinning at him. 

“I did it,” you gloat. 

He angles his head toward you, revealing half a pretty face, still dusted red but now with all the markings of inquisition. 

“You did what?”

“I took the upper hand.”

Those dark eyes narrow and before you can think to retract your legs he’s wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling them over his pillow and leaving you flat on your back once more. Again you giggle. 

“You took nothing,” he asserts, but you’re not bothered—still smiling as you accept your new position and toss your arms above your head casually. 

“Somebody’s a sore loser.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Eat your curry.”

“Sorry, I’m full. From, you know, the taste of victory.”

He exhales a dry chuckle, leaning forward to finally retrieve the containers of food. 

“I can’t believe I ever let you call me a nerd.”

The rest of the evening remains PG. Conversation flows and trickles comfortably over dinner on the couch, and afterwards, he suggests a documentary. From the outside, it might not look like much—but to you, with your head on his chest as the TV casts its flickering, ghostly light over the room, with the beating of his heart against your ear and his breath against the top of your head, it’s everything. Six months ago you didn’t know what it was to exist so comfortably around another person like this. Now, though he feels familiar and safe, you don’t take it for granted. The novelty of something so simple is not lost on you, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world as your eyes begin to flutter. You’re lucky to have someone you feel completely safe with. 

Spencer murmurs your name like a question.  It buzzes against your ear. You hum in response. 

His thumb fans lines over your shoulder blade. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Mhm.”

“The other night… we didn’t really get a chance to—to debrief, afterwards. Which is fine, you were tired, it was late. But then the next morning I had to go, and everything with your neighbor happened, and we talked about that a little bit, but… but earlier, it sounded like maybe you… I don’t know. Maybe you weren’t feeling good about how it happened?”

“Spencer, I told you I don’t regret it,” you remind him, pushing up from his chest to look him in the eye. His hand slides down your back. 

“I know… I just wanted to give you another chance to talk about it. In case anything was on your mind.” He frets over your hair, an invisible speck on your skin. Like he’s nervous. “And I want to make sure you’re feeling okay about how it went. I know what happened the next day was an unfortunate addendum, and I’m sorry about that. As soon as you give me permission, I will have him arrested. But I don’t want that to overshadow your experience.”

“It’s… not,” you breathe, fiddling with a button on Spencer’s shirt. 

“So how did you feel about it? Barring anything external?”

“Good.”

Spencer strokes your jaw with a knuckle, gently admonishing. 

“Don’t just say that. Think about it.”

“I have,” you assure him immediately, cheeks warming as you realize just how swiftly you’d replied. 

What a lovely button. Mother-of-pearl. The shirt is a pale lilac. It looks good on him. One of your favorites, actually. 

Spencer lets you pick at it. He would probably let you pull the button off, tear every stitch on the shirt with a seam-ripper if it helped to soothe your nerves. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to go into explicit detail. I know it still feels weird to talk about. But it’s something we do have to talk about.”

“I know. And I would bring it up if something didn’t feel right. But it… was…” you chew your lip as you think of a way to phrase it that doesn’t sound too mushy-gushy. “Overwhelmingly… a very positive experience.”

“You sound like Yelp review,” Spencer says through a smile. You attempt to smother the continual heat of your embarrassment against his shirt. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, more intimately than anyone ever has before. And you’re still shy about acknowledging that fact. 

“Shut up. Say something nice back.”

With a typically gentle hand, he pushes hair away from your ear. 

“I…” he begins meaningfully, taking a moment to sweep your hair over your back. “Feel incredibly grateful that you trusted me to take care of you. I know that’s big for you, and I know it can be a really scary thing. Mostly I’m happy you’re happy. And that I didn’t mess up irredeemably.”

“What would you have messed up?” You laugh, retreating from your shelter against his chest to knit your brow. 

He makes a face in the half-dark like he shouldn’t have said it. 

“Uh… that… veers into explicit detail… and possibly too much honesty.”

You laugh again and adjust to frame his sheepish smile between your hands. 

“I see. You have to keep your mystique in tact.”

“I really don’t think it’s that much of a mystery.”

“Well, I’ll spare your ego.”

“Wow, thanks. For the first time in your life.”

You go in for a chaste, smiley kiss, which stays sweet and kind even as it melts into something stickier. 

It comes to a turning point and Spencer inhales deeply, gently angling his head away and shifting to check his watch. You collapse on his chest, catching your breath. 

“I should go.”

“No. I feel like you’re going away to war.”

“I’m going to Court House. Where I live.”

“What if I never see you again?”

“It’s twenty minutes away. So you could always just drive.”

You frown. 

“I hope you get trench foot.”

“You know seventy seven thousand soldiers died from trench foot in World War Two?”

“Obviously I did not know that.”

“Well, next time you should just say you want me to die. Up.”

He pats the back of your thigh and you push off of him, only after considering trying to hold him hostage for a split second. 

You hover by the couch like a ghost, watching with increasing anxiety as he gathers together the empty containers from your meal and throws them in the kitchen garbage before collecting his things. 

There is one thing—one potentially difficult thing you haven’t mentioned to him that seems to be a direct consequence of finally sleeping together. 

You’re clingy. 

Clingier than you’ve ever been. It didn’t seem possible to want to be around him more than you already had, but now when he’s gone you feel his absence like a vacuous hole by your side. Without his warmth, you’re always a little colder. A little less comfortable. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that you’re starting to get separation anxiety, so you won’t put it into so many words—but you think, as he turns, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a knowing look, that he understands. 

At the same time, you begin to close the space, meeting gently in the middle, toe to toe. You keep your hands behind your back, afraid that otherwise you’ll try and glom onto him like a barnacle on a ship’s hull. 

“There are some things I’d like to get done this week so I don’t have to worry about them during our trip. So I might not see you for a day or two.”

Dutifully you nod, though you’re slightly crushed. 

“That’s okay. We’re grownups.”

“I don’t know,” he tuts. “I’m worried I’m gonna start writing my name with your last on all my notebooks.”

That stupid, stupid charm. 

“Mm… I’m kinda out of your league,” you grin. 

Spencer’s smile wanes slowly, but his eyes remain soft and aglow as they explore your face as reverently as his hands would. When he speaks, it’s in an honest, borderline whisper. “I’m acutely aware.”

Slowly his head dips, and your eyes flutter shut. A sweet, lingering kiss lands on your cheek. Then he’s pulling back. 

“That’s it?” You can’t help but ask, peering up at him and barely concealing a frown. 

He smiles that lovely smile, but by this point you’re attuned enough to his facial expressions to recognize the subtle heat playing just beneath the surface of those golden-oak eyes. 

“What? Did I give you the impression that I put out?”

“It’s just a kiss.”

That teasing edge becomes ever so slightly sharper as he regards you, head tilting. 

“Mhm. And the last time you said that—was it before or after you mounted me?”

You shoo him away pretty quickly after that—partly for discipline, and partly because the sooner he’s gone, the sooner you’ll go to sleep, and the sooner it will be tomorrow. 

And this trip can’t come soon enough, because you’re pretty sure you know exactly what kind of alone you’d like to be with Spencer Reid.

[spxllcxstxr]

Slow Burn Lovers with Jayce Talis • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: Jayce head cannons? maybe like slow burn lovers trope, hcs can be mostly of like what it would be like dating him. Any pronouns is fine! (Tysm I love ur writing!) -- anon

Warnings: gn!reader, it’s all fluff motherfuckers 😫

A.N: his pouty lips are so KISSABLE 😫😫😫 also thank you so much, I’m so happy you like my writing…🥺🥺 I hope you like this too!!!

•

By the time Jayce is partners with Viktor in the lab, the two of you had been friends for a very long time. You had spent most of your time in the Academy with him, from late night study sessions in the library to hanging out in your room with a few drinks. He was someone you quickly realized you could rely on, and he felt the same towards you

Your friendship gets the point where you both essentially know everything about one another. Every little detail about every little thing is mapped out in your minds

Your peers and professors alike always assumed the two of you were a couple and after informing them you and Jayce were just friends, they'd always give you a knowing look and an unconvinced "yeah, sure..." If the two of you weren't together at the Academy, they figured you would get together at some point

Being close friends with Jayce meant that greetings and goodbyes were accompanied by tight hugs, sitting across from each other meant he was, at some point, going to "accidentally" kick you, his hand would frequently rest on your bicep when together. Jayce Talis is a very touchy person and you were absolutely no exception to that. He feels comfortable with you, and this is the best way to show it in his opinion

Always asks you about your day, how you're doing, if you ate yet. He's extremely observant of your habits and behavior and he always wants to make sure you're better than just ok. You do the exact same to him, which always makes his day a little brighter

He falls hard for you, one day in the lab. He had feelings for you bubbling beneath the surface for years, but it never hit him that hard before. Jayce always compared everyone to you, always wanted to see you smile and hear your laugh, he never felt safe with anyone except you. However, it takes him another year to confess to you simply because he doesn't want to ruin your friendship--the greatest thing he's ever had. That was the fear from the very start, all those years ago, but this time it felt more real

When the two of you finally do get together (thank Viktor for pressuring Jayce to just do it already), it seems like almost nothing has changed. You and Jayce had just been acting like a couple for so long that there wasn’t a sudden feeling that something had shifted. However, this did mean that Jayce felt as if he had so many kisses to share with you to make up for lost time

Jayce would kiss you softly on the lips when entering the room, and if you were working he’s press a kiss to your temple. The man can’t get enough of you. There were kisses in the lab, in the corridors, late at night over candle-lit dinners. (Jayce will even sometimes pull you into a supply closet to make out with you when you look so heavenly in your outfit. He knows you two have other things to do and that Viktor is waiting for him back in the lab, but you’re just so irresistible. Surely Viktor understands…(Viktor proceeds to be jokingly mad at Jayce when he finally shows up, ten minutes late with ruffled hair))

Additionally, Jayce's once casual touches turn into something more. His hands linger longer on the small of your back or on the back of your hand. Each brush of his fingertips against your exposed skin sets your nerves ablaze and your heart beats quicker than before. Jayce is fond of bigger displays of physical touch as well. He loves just placing his head in your lap at the end of a long day and pulling your body closer to his in bed

(Heimerdinger feels especially vindicated when he finds out the two of you are finally dating. He’s known since the very beginning you guys were head over heels for each other; it was only a matter of time. Heimer is so happy for you guys once you tell him that he immediately asks when the wedding is and if he can officiate it)

Jayce has found that he has loved you since the very beginning and he sees a future with you by his side

[yuwuta]

JUST KEEP LOVING ME THE WAY I LOVE YOU LOVING ME — SATORU GOJO

pairings. satoru gojo/reader

content, warnings. non-curse au, doctor au (reader), ceo au (satoru), no real content warnings, fluff, satoru is nothing but a romantic at heart

word count. 3k

notes. this exists in the post-completion au of a larger universe/incomplete fic of mine, that i will hopefully finish someday lololol but this is way easier to write than that so here you go 🥳

“There are four chairs worth a collective seventy-five hundred dollars in this office, so, pray, tell, why is your ass on my desk?” 

Satoru grins at your words, too distracted by taking in the sight of you to take into consideration the underlying threat. It’s been far too long, almost three whole days since he’s last seen you and, god, you look good. He knows if he said that you’d roll your eyes and insist that there’s nothing good-looking about your worn-in business attire and lab coat that was in desperate need of laundering, but it wouldn’t change his opinion: you always look good, and Satoru really fucking missed you. 

Which is why he doesn’t say the words, but makes sure to throw a deceivingly charming wink your way so that you get the message anyway. As expected, you still roll your eyes, but he doesn’t mind; you look good doing that, too.

“Seriously, Satoru, what are you doing here?” you question, closing the door behind you when you fully step into the room. You make pace towards your desk, attempting to get to the other side, but this is exactly why Satoru chose to lean against it instead of sitting on any one of your very expensive and comfortable chairs—because this way, he’s in the perfect position to intercept your path and pull you to fit neatly between his legs before you can even think about reaching your office chair and ignoring him. 

He pulls you by the loop of your lab coat, but his hands quickly find their way to your shoulders, unpeeling the white layer just enough so that your blouse is exposed to him, and he can slowly rub his palms against your arms and shoulders with just enough pressure to hopefully release some tension. You won’t let go of all of it, but that’s alright, because Satoru’s got other methods for taking care of you.

“Hi,” he calls, smiling gently down at you, “I missed you.” 

This close, Satoru can see the exhaustion clearly in your eyes. There’s more, too: frustration, guilt, worry—and it takes everything in him not to coo and pull you into his chest and do his best to shield you from the world forever. 

There’s a beat before you speak, a small sigh, that’s quickly painted over with a tired smile and a remorseful, “I missed you, too. I’m sorry for being so short, the interim chief has been getting on my last nerves, and—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Satoru cuts in, leaning forward to press a reassuring kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax under his touch. “I know you’re busy. I just missed you.” 

It’s not easy to share you with anything or anyone, but Satoru knows that even on the hardest days, you love your job, and that so many people need your brilliant mind. What he does mind is when people make your job harder than it needs to be, and he’s been getting an earful about this new interim chief from just about everybody—you, Kento, Yuuji, Ieiri, even some of your favorite scrub nurses have indulged him in the gossip about the newest common enemy—and he doesn’t appreciate that someone is putting extra stress on his baby. So, even if it is a makeshift massage in your office and distracting you from your paperwork, Satoru will do what he can to help you relieve tension. 

You reach your arms to wrap them around his shoulders, taking a half step closer to him, peering up at him. Satoru loves when your arms are around his neck like this; he can’t quite pinpoint why—maybe it’s the way you have to crane your neck to look up at him, the way you’re perfectly nestled under his view, the feeling of being wrapped in you. He does his best to close the loop of your intimacy, resting his hands on the small of your back and pulling you impossibly closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax into his touch.

“You’re sweet,” you smile, rubbing your thumb against the shorter hairs at the back of his head. Satoru feels himself melt into you, too. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close, three whole days too long. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, baby,” he smiles, stealing a gentle kiss. Satoru loves this the most, loves the feeling of your lips on his—and it’s definitely been too long since he’s kissed you, so he makes sure to do it again, and once more after that for good measure. 

But it’s not enough. He’ll have to take you home, sit you on the couch so he can kiss you all night and make up for the lack of kisses and touches and youness he’s been deprived of these past few days. But first, he’ll have to pull you away from your work, and that’s not easy work. 

“Come home,” he muses, leaning his forehead against yours, “We can order in, and share your favorite bottle of wine, and watch a movie.” 

You lean up to kiss him briefly. “Every time we share a bottle of wine, we end up making out and not watching anything.” 

“Do we?” Satoru feigns innocence, “I never noticed. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, though.”

“Satoru,” you whisper, quiet but firm, with a smile that lets him know you want to, but you can’t. It’s a tone that Satoru knows all too well, and isn’t particularly fond of. “I have charts to finish.” 

“Finish them tomorrow,” he steals another kiss, “Or pawn them off on Kento,” another kiss, “Or Yuuji. Residents always need more experience—isn’t that what you and Ieiri always say?” 

You let him kiss you again, and again, and again. Each time a little longer, a little warmer, a little less innocent than the last, growing from a little, to a lot, to all-consuming. Satoru hums when he feels your nails raking through his hair; an unfortunate move, as the sound pulls you back to reality and away from him in a decrescendo of kisses. 

“You’re really good at that,” you laugh, voice soft. 

“At kissing?” Satoru dips his head down to taste your laughter against his lips, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice with a very pretty girl.” 

“No,” and you’re laughing again, louder this time, and Satoru counts every little giggle as a victory, “You’re good at... seducing me without saying you’re seducing me.”

“Oh, that?” he grins, tucking his pointer and index finger under your chin to meet you in a knowing kiss, “Yeah, that’s a talent of mine, too.”

You let him steal one more, and Satoru doesn’t take it for granted. “Come home,” he whispers against your lips before slotting them in yet another kiss, “I miss you.” 

And he can feel it when you finally break, sighing into the kiss, and melting into his touch completely. One more, he just needs one more kiss to seal the deal, and then—“Fine,” you concede, “But I get to choose where to get dinner from.” 

“Of course, sweets, whatever you want,” Satoru grins, pulling back to kiss your forehead again, “Now—shall we? If we order in the car, we can probably pick it up on our way home.”

He’s in the home stretch now, but he’s not completely free: if you catch a glimpse of your work, or someone comes in to find you, or your godforsaken pager beeps then all of his plans could come crumbling down before him. The key to transitioning from the “you’ve agreed to come home with him early stage”—if you can count 9:45pm, coming off of a 17-hour work day as early—to the “we are actually leaving this hospital and nobody can stop us phase” is swiftness. This time period is critical, and Satoru is ready for the sprint. 

He shimmies your lab coat all the way off of your body for you, checking for the weight of your pager in your right pocket, before hanging it on the back of your chair. He shoos you to grab your coat, and makes sure you don’t get within three feet of this side of your desk—taking your purse out of your locked drawer and closing an open file folder in the time it takes you to slip out of your heels and into your sneakers, and by the time you’re turning back around, Satoru is already there next to you, with your purse in one hand, and his other hovering on the light switch. 

He makes sure you’re out the door first, and flickers off the light with a satisfied grin. His baby was coming home early with him, and there is nothing else he’d rather do than spend time pampering you. 

You must truly be more tired than you know, because you make no protest when he slings an arm over your shoulder on your way out of the elevator. Usually, you chastise him for any PDA within hospital walls, but tonight you let it be, even leaning some of your body weight against his as you walk. Satoru’s not complaining at all, maybe he’ll try his luck and sneak a kiss on your cheek. 

He decides to go for it, leaning over for a kiss, when you suddenly pull away, turning and patting against your side. Confused, and disappointed, Satoru pouts, “We’ve really got to work on this fear of affection you’ve got going on, sweets. It’s the leading cause of makesatorupout-itis.” 

“We’ve been over this—you can’t just add “itis” to the end of your words to make them diagnostic,” you giggle, “I was looking for my keys.”

Satoru’s frown deepens. “You have the fancy reserved doctor parking space, they can’t tow you. So, we can take my car home.” 

“No, we cannot, because I do not trust you to wake up and drive me back tomorrow morning.” 

“Then I’ll get you a cab in the morning, or—even better, I’ll call Ichiji to pick you up.” 

“Ichiji is still in Paris,” you remind him. Satoru purses his lips. He did ask Ichiji to stay with Megumi. Damn it.

“I have other cars, you can drive one of them in the morning.” 

“And park it where?” 

“In your fancy reserved doctor parking—oh, okay I see the flaw there,” Satoru pulls back. You find amusement in his disappointment, but he doesn’t think there’s anything funny here. 

He shakes his head. He should have taken a cab from his office, but this is okay, a minor setback, nothing he can’t think around. “New plan: we take your car, and I’ll come by to get mine tomorrow. Easy peasy.” 

“Yours will be towed by then.” 

“That’s fine,” Satoru shrugs, “I can afford a tow fee.” 

“Satoru,” you call, reaching your free hand up to place your palm against his cheek, “We both drive home. It’ll be thirty minutes, tops. Forty if there’s traffic, but if you stop pouting and we leave now, we should be fine.” 

Satoru sighs. He knows that’s the most reasonable plan of action, but the simple truth is that he doesn’t want to be away from you right now, even to go the short distance home. He’s already spent the last few days without you, and even though this is calling it in early for you, he only gets maybe four hours awake with you before you’re off again. Thinking about that makes him miss you again already. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care.

“Oh, Dr. (_____), hey!” Yuuji’s voice is an easily distinguishable interruption to your petty argument, and Satoru’s sulking, “Perfect timing—I’m glad I caught you before you left. Is it okay if I ask you to sign something before you go?” 

You easily warm up to the younger boy and agree, fondly making conversation with Yuuji as he scrolls through some documents on his tablet. And just as you’ve finished scribbling your signature along the screen, Satoru has a bright idea. 

“Hey, Yuuji, you can drive right?” Satoru questions rhetorically, already reaching for his wallet and car keys, “Great! Here’s two grand, it’s all yours if you drive this car home tonight.” Satoru smiles widely, shoving his keys and some cash into the pocket of Yuuji’s white coat. 

“What—really? Awesome! But, why—” 

Satoru dismisses his disbelief with a wave of his hand. He steps a bit closer to Yuuji, just enough to lean into his ear and tuck a couple more bills into his pocket, “And between you and me, that’s an extra three grand if you finish up a couple of charts for my lady so she can sleep in tomorrow. Not a bad deal, right?” 

“Sure, no problem!” Yuuji salutes, “I’d do anything for Dr. Almost-Gojo. Plus, if I’m busy working for her, then I don’t have to babysit cells in a dish for Dr. Gakuganji.” 

“Atta boy,” Satoru ruffles his hair, “Catch you later, Yuuji, I’ve got a hot date to get to. And tell Nanamin I say hello!” 

You elbow Satoru shallowly, a silent warning to keep his voice down, and a verbal chastising of, “It’s Dr. Itadori and Dr. Nanamin to you.”

“More like Dr. Nanameanie,” Satoru laments, resuming the position of his arm around your shoulder, “I’ve left him six calls this week! He’s so cruel—he knows I have to leave next week and he’s depriving me of one on one time. I think I’m gonna have to sneak into his office at lunch tomorrow and confront him.”

Despite his crass words and dramatics, you laugh, and so, Satoru smiles. He finally gets that cheek kiss right as you two reach your car, bending down to plant one for you at the same time he steals your keys from your hand and banishes you to the passenger seat. He’s not much of a driver himself, despite his excess amount of cars, but you’re his baby and you deserve to be driven around no matter the case, but especially when you’ve spent all day taking care of other people. 

Plus, on days like this, if he’s real careful and smooth, you fall asleep in the car and he gets to carry you inside. He makes that his goal for the next thirty minutes, and he succeeds in twenty, confirmed by your soft snores just as he pulls into the curbside pick-up spot of your favorite restaurant. He retrieves the take-out as quietly as possible, before making the rest of the journey home, taking the time to glance over at you during red lights. 

Satoru loves the way you look when you’re asleep, loves to see you well-rested, but something even more dear to him than that is a fact that Nanami let slip in the aftermath of a dinner party he’d hosted about a year after you two had started dating: “She never sleeps outside of her bed, for as long as I’ve known her,” he muses, nodding to your sleeping figure on Satoru’s couch, “Not even in the on-call rooms during our 72 hour shifts. She must... she must really trust you, Satoru.” 

(He also recalls the awfully strong grip on his shoulder and subsequent shovel talk Kento gave him a moment later. Not that Satoru ever had anything but pure intentions with you, but the threat of breaking Kento’s best friend’s heart was more than enough to keep his commitments in check).

Satoru peers at you fondly in his arms, held bridal style with the takeout in the grip of a pinky finger, glancing up only to nod and thank his doorman for pushing the penthouse button for him. Satoru prides himself on many things, but the one thing he always holds in his highest regards is you: call him cocky, but he thinks he’s quite good at caring for you, that there’s nobody else fit to look after you the way that he can; and knowing that you feel safe in his arms is the highest honor he could achieve in this life.

He sets you carefully on the couch once he steps inside the apartment, and places the food on the coffee table. He debates whether or not he should wake you up now; he hates to, but he knows you need to eat, and, selfishly, he wants to cash in on those few hours he has with you to hear your voice. 

He’ll dish out the food first, and then wake you up to eat, he decides. He leans down to kiss the crown of your head, eyes flicking to your face, and pausing at your neck, where your engagement ring rests crookedly against your skin. You must have had an emergency surgery today, he thinks; your schedule for today was originally just to round on post-op patients and attend some meetings, but you knot the ring into your chain when you have to scrub into the operating room. 

Carefully, Satoru reaches to undo it from the chain, and slips it back onto your ring finger. It looks pretty against your skin when it’s around your neck, but personally, he thinks it looks best this way, the sparkle of the aquamarine against the halo of diamonds fits perfectly across the width of your finger, just the way he had it made to be.

Satoru bends down even further to kiss the back of your hand, before laying it to rest on your stomach. He might need to bribe Yuuji to take care of some more work for you, you two really should get a move on that wedding planning, and you’re going to need at least a week off to fly and visit his grandma’s pastry shop in Osaka for cake tasting.

He smiles at the thought. He doesn’t feel so bad about waking you up now—wedding talk seems like the perfect way to end the evening if you ask him; there would be no sweeter sound than hearing how you imagine the start of the rest of your lives to be. 

[wonderjanga]

Guys… Marvel Might Need Some Help

Captain Marvel talks to himself. It’s a well known fact. The normally cheery and friendly man is a little crazy, but aren’t we all? And you see, the thing is, they know he’s talking to himself because not only did they get Zatanna to check if he was talking to a ghost of some kind, but he’s personally confirmed it:

Marvel: “Oh uhm… I guess I’m talking to myself.”

Batman: “Talking to yourself…?” *blinks rapidly as if Billy can see that under his cowl* “Captain, do we need to schedule an appointment with Black Canary?”

Marvel: “What?! No! I’m perfectly fine! Everyone talks to themselves!”

That’s what Billy thinks anyways. See, Billy developed the habit of talking to himself because he was usually alone most of the time before he met Freddy and reunited with Mary. Talking out loud made himself feel less lonely. Freddy also talks to himself, but he keeps it mostly to mumbles, and as for Mary, she does the same thing as Billy. So, with the only two people he converses with on the daily as the standard, he’d say talking to yourself is normal.

By the way, Batman got a little more concerned at his reasoning, but couldn’t really deny it because he’s talked to himself before, after going 45 straight with no sleep on. He had been hallucinating talking to Tim. Speaking of Tim, the boy often mutters to himself when going over cases so… Bruce supposed he would let it go. He’d still have Dinah on speed dial though if Cap seemed to get worse.

Billy didn’t get worse, he just didn’t change his normal talking to himself.

Billy: *in Marvel form, talking to Marvel in the reflection of one of the Watchtower’s windows* “What a stupid idiot.”

Reflection!Marvel: “I know, right? Who does that?”

Billy: “I couldn’t tell yo…” *trails off and looks to the side to see Bruce staring at him* “…Hey Mr. Batman. You need something?”

Batman: “No.” *continued staring*

Billy: *has no choice but to stare back*

Batman: *walks away staring at Billy the entire time until he turns a corner*

Later, Bruce reviewed the footage. What he didn’t know was that people can’t see Marvel’s reflection talking back. Cameras couldn’t pick it up either. So sure enough, he saw Cap having a full blown conversation with a mirror. Strike one for Marvel.

Then, there was a time after a battle against the usual alien invaders where Marvel was genuinely just staring at either the ground or his shadow and talking.

Billy: *in Marvel form talking to Marvel (Thavma?) as a shadow* “That’s what I was saying. What if he doesn’t…”

Shadow!Marvel: “He’ll definitely let you. And if he doesn’t, you could always just break his kneecaps.”

Billy: “I’m not doing that.”

Shadow!Marvel: “I’m just saying. It’s just if that old man is that pressed about you getting some food, it seems a change is needed.”

Batman: *watching this entire interaction and not being able to hear Shadow Marvel*

Strike two for Marvel.

Then, there are the times Marvel will just blankly stare ahead in meetings, mumbling to himself.

Marvel: *mumbling under his breath* “Mercury, you’re being loud.”

Batman: *sitting next to him, slowly looks over*

Supes: *presenting and looks over to Marvel for a second before shaking off what he said*

Marvel: “No, I’m not smashing a window and letting everyone fly out. I’m not insane.”

That was strike three for Bruce. Which was himself too many strikes in his opinion. That one sentence also gained an extremely concerned look from Clark who literally paused his presentation to stare at Marvel with a dumbfounded expression for a moment.

After the meeting…

Batman: “Marvel, I’d like to talk with you.”

Marvel: “Oh uhm… Okay! What’s up, Mr. Batman?”

Batman: “What’s up is that I’ve spoken with Black Canary and we want to schedule an appointment between you and her.”

Marvel: “Mr. Batman, we’ve already talking about this. I’m perfectly fine. I don’t need therapy.”

Batman: “You might think you’re fine, but I’ve grown concerned over recent behaviors you’ve exhibited.” *hands him Canary’s business card* “At least consider it.”

Marvel: *looks at the card* “Uh… Will do.”

Batman: “Good.” *walks off*

Marvel: *as soon as Bruce is out of sight, chucks it into his pocket dimension to forget about it*

Nope, nope, nope. He’s not touching therapy with a ten foot pole. He’s heard that stuff costs like thousands of dollars! He does not have that kind of money. Not that he doubts the League would cover it. He also just doesn’t want his behavior to be psychoanalyzed. No thank you. He really doesn’t need to be told something is wrong with him when he is perfectly fine. Marvelous in fact!

[creampill]

Thinking about the way König shadows you while shopping.

To some, it’s a bit intimidating, seeing this massive man in a medical mask and featureless clothing follow you around. There’s been more than one occasion when you’ve been in a store and a concerned bystander will quietly ask you “do you know him?” Which then prompts the explanation of yeah, he’s just like that, don’t worry I’m not in any danger.

He likes to be helpful, and usually ends up carrying your bags and other things. Even if they don’t match his outfit by any means- that man will happily carry an armful of rainbow tote bags if that means helping you. He’s got those lanky arms, might as well use them as a clothing rack, right? It makes him feel good, knowing he can do something to make your trip a little easier. And it gives him another reason to stick to your side.

He likes to help pick out clothing for you, though it doesn’t tend to be the most fashion-forward. While he has an eye for aesthetics, he prioritises clothes based on comfort and function. You best believe he’s touching all the fabrics to select which one is the least offensive to the senses, advising quietly on which fabric feels the nicest against his skin. No matter how garish or tacky or out there the garment, as long as it brings joy, he could care less (he owns some of the most egregious knitted jumpers known to man, who is he to judge).

He’s a great changing room guard, stood like some kind of very smitten gargoyle, making sure the only people who come close to you while you’re changing are the employees who come to exchange garment sizes. And while he loves anything you wear, he’s a pragmatist about it, he won’t lie if he can tell you aren’t into whatever clothing you’ve picked out. He’ll be honest if a cut doesn’t flatter you or if the seams don’t lay right on your body shape- if you ask for his opinion, of course he’ll give it to you straight.

He hates having to talk to most people, simply because there’s too many variables involved that he never seems to get right, but at the checkout it’s a little bit easier. There’s more of a rhythm to it, a set of scripted responses he can follow. Often, if you’re in some other corner of the store and he’s somehow not looming over you, he’ll slide some little trinket across the counter to buy for you. Just a little treat, of course, to present to you later with a little giddy smile on his face.

And if he ends up also buying a few of the clothing items you liked but couldn’t justify the cost of and slipping them into your bags (that he was already carrying), well, that’s his business. He has plenty of money laying around since he doesn’t get out much. Might as well put it into something that matters to him.

💖 My inbox is open for requests and commissions

[dalishious]

Teia and Viago Master Post

It seems my overwhelming love for Teia Cantori and Viago de Riva has garnered a reputation that I’m worth asking questions about them. I’m honoured! But I think it would be easier to just make a master post about them that I can direct to, so that’s what this is.

Appearances

Dragon Age: Deception (Teia and Viago appear as unnamed Crows. It is later confirmed in Tevinter Nights that it was them)

Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights; “Eight Little Talons”

Dragon Age: The Missing

Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Pre-DATV Events

9:44 – Teia and Viago are in Ventus when the Antaam attack.

Between 9:44 and 9:52 – The events of “Eight Little Talons” takes place. (Viago says they were “recently” in Ventus when the Qunari attacked, meaning it’s probably closer to 9:44.)

9:52 – Teia and Viago are in Vyrantium when the Antaam attack. They took a contract together to kill Lady Crysanthus, who was a member of the Venatori. They briefly run into Varric and Harding, who are following Solas’s trail.

Information on Teia

Teia’s full name is Andarateia Cantori. She is the head of House Cantori, which holds the seat of Seventh Talon. House Cantori’s territory is centred in Rialto.

Teia is 28 in “Eight Little Talons”. While we don’t know for sure when the story takes place, it is most likely around 9:45-9:46 based on context clues. If so, this would make Teia in her mid-30s during Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

Teia grew up on the streets of Antiva City with no family, surviving on thievery. She was taken by the Crows at age eight, and considers them her family now. (In “Eight Little Talons,” she reflects that she’s been a Crow for 20 years.)

Teia was the youngest Crow to gain the rank of Talon in history. She is also an outlier in that she does not come from a wealthy, prolific family background. This caused quite a controversy, where she was considered an “overreaching street rat;” while the Crows tell recruits that anyone can become a Talon, it very rarely happens.

Teia has her own set of rules to follow; for example, she refuses to kill servants unless absolutely necessary.

Teia’s best skill is being a master manipulator, with a level of astute observation in others that gives her an advantage in pretty much any conversation. She is very good at figuring out what to say and do in order to get the response she wants from someone.

Teia’s biggest flaw is, in my opinion, her naiveté. You could also say that the fact that she’s held onto strong morals and sensitivity to others is a strength, certainly. But the fact that she wants to see good in everyone, even people who arguably don’t give her any reason to, has gotten her into trouble.

Teia was in an abusive relationship in the past; Dante Balazar, who was Second Talon before his death in “Eight Little Talons”. Dante was addicted to lyrium, and would lash out at her verbally and physically. At some point Teia fought back and finally broke things off, while leaving a scar on his shoulder. Despite all this, Teia held sympathy for him.

Teia is afraid of dogs, after being chased by rabid ones on the streets as a little girl.

Teia has a tattoo marking her as a member of House Cantori on her back.

Teia’s horse is named Andoral (after the archdemon).

Teia has probably not been a Talon for very long; I would guess less than five years as of “Eight Little Talons.”

Information on Viago

Viago is the head of House de Riva, which holds the seat of Fifth Talon. House de Riva’s territory is centred in Salle.

We do not know Viago’s age for certain, but I would guess he’s in his mid-40s during Dragon Age: The Veilguard based on vibes and sensible timelines.

Viago is a master poisoner, and carries around plenty of it wherever he goes… as well as antidotes, because in addition to this, he is extremely paranoid about being poisoned himself. He does not eat or drink anything before testing it first, and he even takes a small dose of Adder’s Kiss every day to build up a resistance to it.

As one of many bastard children of the Antivan King, Viago was only given two choices in life: either live in luxurious exile, or join the Crows. He resents all his half-siblings who chose the first, and he resents the king himself. Viago may be more powerful than them all, even the king, but he is now stuck in this life. Had he not been, he thinks he could be a better ruler of Antiva.

Viago also holds resentment towards his mother, who it is hinted was an alcoholic to cope with the loss of interest from the King. Viago recalls her wine-stained “demon teeth” from when he was a child.

Viago does not give a shit if people like him or not; he only wants to be respected and feared. (Despite this, Teia tries to make the other Talons like him.) He is also used to having to constantly watch his back, and typically thinks the worst in people.

Viago tries to avoid emotional thinking, preferring hard facts and logic.

Viago has a pair of adder snakes he milks for venom. He also now has a third named Emil, choosing to keep the snake that bit and nearly killed him in “Eight Little Talons”.

Viago enjoys art collection.

My guess for how long Viago has been a Talon is somewhere around 10-15 years, based on vibes and timelines. I think he was fairly young himself when he succeeded his predecessor. I also think it’s entirely possible that the Antivan King arranged his rise to power, based on the comment in “Eight Little Talons” from Dante: “Your daddy will protect you.”

Dialogue (in no particular order)

Viago: It's frustrating, right? I'm correct to feel that way? How the occupation has pushed us all… apart? Teia: I try not to let the fledglings see it. Viago: If they had done nothing else, I would hate the Antaam for making you restrict any part of yourself.

Teia: I haven't seen that look in some time. Viago: It's called "hope." And perhaps some other thoughts. Teia: What sort of thoughts, Vi? Viago: About the future. Both long term and… more immediate.

Viago: Is my collar high enough? I need to present an example. Teia: The fledglings see their leaders standing tall against the tide. Incessantly. Teia: Perhaps it is time to set other examples. So they know that war is not all we are. Viago: Perhaps we should discuss as much. Say, at the café? Teia: Once they've scrubbed out the remains of the Antaam.

Teia: Your push against the Antaam has been admirable. Viago: Your work here is also commendable. Teia: Good, good. Why is this so awkward? Viago: Perhaps we know each other too well to be strangers.

Teia: What are you drafting now? Viago: It's a contract to murder a vacation. It requires a very particular set of skills from a very particular Seventh Talon. Teia: Very funny, and unnecessary. I'll take a break soon. Really. Viago: As it was with gods and reavers, I'll believe it when I see it.

Teia: Haven't seen you around the Diamond much, Vi. Viago: I've been preoccupied. Teia: I thought perhaps you were avoiding me. Viago: I thought perhaps you wished to be avoided.

Teia: So, will I see you for breakfast? Viago: I don't think you will. Teia: No? Why not? Viago: It's only breakfast if we sleep. Teia: Vi, you are the worst.

Teia: Despite the governor, Rook has certainly given us time to consider our options. Viago: I'd forgotten that kind of time. Just, time to appreciate… those around me. Teia: There's only the two of us here. Viago: And who else could I possibly mean?

Teia: You fought darkspawn? Viago: None of them touched me. Teia: I will inspect you later. Viago: All right.

Teia: I told her their bickering was amateurish, and that they'd need to work much harder to argue as well as we do. Viago: That was altogether the wrong message to take away from that. Teia: I thought you enjoyed our little squabbles? Viago: Among—and possibly overshadowed by—other things.

Viago: You're smirking at me. What is so funny? Teia: I was just noticing how much you're starting to look like the dog. Viago: We are free from the influence of gods and traitors for the first time in months, and that is where your mind goes? Teia: Especially when you pout! Viago: I do not pout.

Teia: I found some Crystal Grace in the gardens earlier. Viago: I didn't know flowers still bloomed in this city. Viago: And thank you. They were most pleasant to find on the desk this morning.

Teia: Fighting back suits you. Your tone has much improved since we last argued. Viago: Excuse me. I wasn't aware it was my tone that was at issue. Teia: That's all right, I'm sure you'll pay closer attention from now on. Viago: See, this is why we split. And got back together. And split.

Teia: Fighting back, making our voices heard… this is feeling like old times. The good ones. Viago: Thank you for the clarification. Teia: I meant it. Viago: So did I.

Viago: Have you been home in the last week? Teia: I won't let the fledglings see the Diamond empty.

Teia: Are you certain the fledglings should see you smile this much? You'll spoil them. Viago: It's unavoidable, I'm afraid. The cause of my smile refuses to leave the Diamond. Teia: Is that so? Viago: It is very much so.

Teia: Not all things end with clarity, as you and I both know. Viago: Fine. Endings are fuzzy. Starts are shocking. Middles… middles are worth lingering.

Rook: The Cantori Diamond is your casino? The occupation hasn't closed your business? Teia: Business may be down, but it isn't "my" casino to close. Viago: An easy mistake to make. Isn't that right, Andarateia Cantori? Teia: I am no landlord, and anyone who treats me as such shall be evicted.

Rook: Were either of you trained by Heir? Viago: Not this one. Mine was… stern. Teia: Mine spoke in the third person until you were skilled enough to be recognized as an equal. Viago: Starting with grammatical murder. Fascinating.

Teia: Why are you so frustrating? Viago: Am I? We are only frustrated by things we are truly invested in. Teia: That can't be. I just threw out your old shirts. Viago: Old? There's no such thing as old satin.

Rook: So you two are both Talons. Doesn't that make you rivals? Viago: Rank in one area is rarely applicable to others. Which is to say, only a fool would try to impose rank on Teia. Teia: Wise words from a sometimes fool. Viago: A history I would wish on no one else, lest they take it from me.

Viago: Occupied! The insult of it! Teia: It's more than insulting. Viago: It's salt in the wound. And that is my purview.

Viago: To see you so energized, Teia. I'm staring at the sun. Teia: Viago, once Rook kills Ivenci? On again. Viago: We shall see.

Teia: Viago, dear. Do you want children? Viago: I rarely see the dog.

Viago: I think [Jacobus] could be the best of us. Teia: That's a high bar. Including you? Viago: Well, perhaps second-best. Behind you. Teia: Flattery will get you everywhere.

-----

SOURCES:

Dragon Age: Deception

Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights

Dragon Age: The Missing

Dialogue between Teia and Viago (DATV)

Letter from Mistress Trella (DATV)

[rainy-day-revelry]

As many people have mentioned, Dream is very good about framing things to make himself sound right and other people sound unreasonable. But not a single video or post he has made so far can convince me that he is doing this with good intentions, because of the way he speaks towards everyone else involved and those he dragged in.

Now I mainly picked up on this with Tubbo and Tommy, but there are hints of it towards his viewers too: he speaks to us all like we’re children. The way a parent talks to a child they’re trying to gently reprimand, or the way a teacher talks about a subject in class. He speaks like we would never be able to come to these conclusions without his help and that he needs to guide us through it all or we’d get lost in the sea of information. And sure, plenty of his viewer base are kids, but the majority of people who would be watching this drama are fans from the Dream SMP era who knows all these people and remembers when they all used to talk and hang out. We may have been kids back then, but it’s coming up on half a decade since that server began; we’re not kids anymore. I myself started watching the DSMP when I was a underclassman in high school, I’m in college now. All the people he called the R-slur, the people who were offended and wanted an apology that he took days to properly deliver, most of us are adults. We can form our own conclusions, and we’re not an amorphous blob of opinions and views, we’re our own people.

This is especially bad when talking about it to Clingyduo, especially Tubbo. In his 3 hour stream he continually talks about Tubbo being misguided, and despite saying he has great respect for Tubbo and his opinions he skips context and actual criticism multiple times or, as Tubbo mentions, tunnel visions on one part of the criticism he can target and tosses the rest out with it when he’s done. He doesn’t give two shits about what Tubbo says unless it’s something he can use against the people criticizing him to make them sound disingenuous. With Tommy it’s worse, because when he’s not villainizing him beyond belief he’s using that condescending tone to talk about how proud he is and how he thought Tommy was special, which explains why Tommy felt so much pressure from him and like he owed him his success, or at least that Dream thought as much. He holds his approval over his head, like an abusive parent who just spent hours screaming in your face about how much of a disappointment you are before telling them “Of course I still love you.” It has the underlying tone of “you’ll make up for this slight, won’t you?”

And don’t even get me started about the DMs to both Tommy and Sarah. It’s fine to explain your feelings, but you’re not explaining them, you are blaming these feelings and reactions on them and telling them “You are the reason I’ve been suffering, it’s your fault for all of these horrible things that other people have been doing to me.” That’s not explaining your feelings, that’s guilt tripping and expecting an apology. That’s how long texts like that come across, that you don’t want the other person to be able to interject, you don’t want to make this a conversation, you want to drop your feelings and leave them to clean up the mess.

Dream’s a manipulative jerk, that’s all this has proved to me.

[tunafruitt]

--> ||❝ The Creator has a.. LOVER?! ❞

SAGAU || Warnings: fluff, gender neutral reader, slight crack, reader gets called a test subject and is implied to be used as one [Dottore’s part] OOC w/ Dottore..? Idk I haven’t finished sumeru yet </3

[ The people of Teyvat find out their grace has been romantically involved with someone for a while now.. what do they think about it? ]

Character(s): DOTTORE, XIAO

-> [ DOTTORE ]

“The Doctor is the Creator’s suitor? As in… the Second of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers? Are you sure that’s him? You are? Oh.. is— Is Your Grace feeling okay? I don’t see why anyone would be willingly involved with the Fatui Harbingers. What?! No! I’m not saying that’s not okay. Your Grace can do whatever they want! Hmph..”

The people of Teyvat felt conflicted to say the least. They weren’t judging your ability to make choices! They really weren’t… they just thought that there were better choices out there for Their Grace!! Yeah, everyone knew you liked the harbingers even before you descended, but couldn’t you have chosen a less deranged harbinger? For example… uhm... none of them.

Dottore could really care less what everyone else thought of his relationship with you though. He got the full package! His lover was the All Mighty Creator, and now he has a new “test subject”! (he says it affectionately.) Dottore knows people hate him even more than before, but who’s the one with the Creator’s arms wrapped around them, head over heels? This benefits him in so many ways. Wether it be research, obtaining materials, or just being able to have something more to use against the rest of the harbingers.

No one would ever dare voice the opinions they have of him while you’re in the vicinity. They’ll listen to you talk about a “date” you had with Dottore, which was really just you and him in his lab…. and he’s using you to help with his research. Hearing this, the rest of the allogene’s eyes are twitching, their fists are clenched, they’re FURIOUS. Not at you! Never. They’re mad at Dottore. How dare he use you as a test subject?! (you volunteered) How dare he use you to try to make another god?! (you thought that sounded fun) How dare he be IN LOVE with the All Mighty Creator?! (you fell first.)

When the two of you are seen in public, the streets go QUIET. Dottore carries this eerie aura with him, everyone knows who he is. And adding to the fact he’s a harbinger, he is also now recognized as the Creator’s suitor. Everyone besides you feels the silence and the stares, including Dottore, but if his lover is happy does it really matter? <3

In conclusion, everyone hopes Dottore dies. It’s not that they don’t want to see you happy. In fact, the entirety of Teyvat is glad you’re experiencing love and joy, just not with HIM.

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

You spend a lot of days in Dottore’s lab. Today was one of those days.

You were conversing with one of Dottore’s younger clones. The clones, while being segments of Dottore, have their own distinct personalities. The one thing they hold in common is the love they have for you.

You love talking to the clones and giving them breaks from whatever days-long tasks Dottore gives them, but you miss the Dottore who’s the last thing you see before you fall asleep and after you wake up. You haven’t seen him since yesterday! Is this really how your boyfriend treats his lover…. who also happens to be the Creator???

And so you decide to go look for him. Who would’ve guessed he was sitting where he always was; his desk. Once you’ve spotted him, as payback for leaving you alone, you decide to sneak up on him. You try your hardest to silence your steps as much as possible in this hollow and echoey office of his.

“I can hear you, Y/N.”

“No you can’t... C’mon Dottore! Cut me some slack. I haven’t seen you since yesterday… and you didn’t even come to say good morning to me today!”

“Good morning.”

“It’s 4:00 PM, love. Take a break. It’s not like I’ll die anytime soon… can I even die..? Uhm.. that’s besides the point. You can conduct your experiments on me and do you research later. Come entertain me, please?”

“Are you asking because I have a choice?”

Your silence gives him an answer. You pull him up from his chair by grabbing his hands and pull him into a hug. You lean in closer to peck his cheek. He leans into you and grabs you by the waist to pull you closer—

“Doctor, the segments have finished—“

“Oh.”

-> [ XIAO ]

“Oh! One of the adepti? THE VIGILANT YAKSHA?! S-sorry that caught me by surprise… So the Yaksha is dating the Creator, huh. His tales have been documented for millennia’s, yet he’s rarely seen in public… I guess even someone like that can’t help but fall for Our Grace.”

So that must be why you always cooked Almond Tofu… Well, since Xiao IS the Conqueror of Demons, I can see the people of Liyue being quite happy. Jealous? Yes. But who’s even more jealous? Mondstadt. Why couldn’t it be one of the Knights of Favonious or something? But they guess you’re happy and that’s enough… (Though it could’ve been with them.)

Xiao is seen a little more often with you now that it’s confirmed you two are dating. Not too often, but if you want to go try out a restaurant in the city of Liyue, he’ll never say no. He may not speak much, but according to rumors is Liyue… “his eyes are always on you, listening to anything and everything the Creator has to say. It’s clear he’s fallen completely in love!” (Said by Chef Mao, probably.)

Being Xiao’s partner may seem awkward from an outsiders perspective, but he’s surprisingly sweet! He still won’t talk much, but he’ll reply to any questions you have, no matter how stupid or obvious they are with full genuity. Him being the Conqueror of Demons and you being the Creator, you both live busy lives…. so his eyes literally light up when you two are both able to finally see each other after a long time. <3 (he’s head over heels guys help.)

The adepti would be so PROUD. They probably already knew you and Xiao had a little something going on even before it was announced because of the way Xiao seemed slightly more happy. This lead to then being suspicious and eventually seeing him and you together… doing the most intimate thing ever…..

…. HOLDING HANDS. UNDER THE MOONLIGHT. But they kept quiet so don’t worry!

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

“Xiao! I found you.”

As per usual, Xiao was sitting on the roof of Wangshu Inn. Today was one of the days where both of you were busy. You had a meeting to attend, and he was doing his job as The Conqueror of Demons. It was night by the time you were able to see each other.

“You should’ve called my name, Your Grace. It would’ve been easier for me to find you.”

“Yeah but I like looking for you. I always know where you are since you’re in the same spots anyway. And besides, I like how Wangshu Inn looks at night!”

You always thought Xiao looked pretty, but he looked especially pretty under the moonlight. His face seemed to glow more than usual today. Maybe it was the warm colored light radiating from inside of Wangshu Inn, or the light reflected by the moon shining down on him. Maybe it was the fact he had missed you so much that seeing your face again brought him a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Your Grace?”

“Oh, sorry Xiao, I lost my train of thought. Let’s go eat! I’m feeling hungry… today’s meeting was waaayy too long… C’mon, I’ll buy you something!”

“No need. I’ll be okay with just accompanying Your Grace.”

“Agh, stop calling me that. Y/N? Can you say Y/N? Please Xiao?”

“… Y-Y/N..”

“See? Not too hard right? Ok let’s go eat! I’ll make you Almond Tofu how you like it.”

FINALLY DONE OOHMYGODDD sorry this took so long. Idk what I should do next so feel free to request anything… ANYWAYS THE FIRST PART OF THIS GOT ALMOST 700 NOTES??? omg stop guys I’m giggling and blushing aughshsgghh. But seriously thank you so much I’m bawling

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> smut, manhandling, words -> 1.7K

abstract -> “Always used to getting what you want don't you?”

hongjoong’s pov

“Are you sure you want to go to a heat hotel?” Seonghwa asked me and I didn’t know what else to do… “You’re gonna regret it,” Yeosang added. “I don’t want her to feel like she needs to help me… I don’t want to force her” I said and they seemed to understand. 

“She’s already accepted you both… besides she doesn’t mind helping us,” Wooyoung said and I felt like I had to just wait… for whatever reason.

“Hongjoong, are you ready!” I heard as I saw y/n now ready to take me to spend my heat with a stranger… 

“Don’t come back saying you regret it” Seonghwa warned and I think I would regret it either way… but for now I had to go to that stupid hotel.

They took me away and it felt weird not having y/n with me… she won’t be with me for a week. I wouldn’t see the apartment for a whole week. I then saw a tiger hybrid like Seonghwa with her fur white but a bit duller than his… enter the room. 

I could smell her heat, but for some reason, it didn’t push me further into mine. I know I was experiencing my pre-heat but surely I should’ve wanted to succumb to my desires right?

“Have fun” the employee said as I was now left alone with the unknown hybrid… “You're a collectible” she muttered and I growled. “I don’t mean that as offensive… I didn’t even mean to say it but your collar looks expensive” she defended and I knew that it was.

Each collar of hers was the same but different color or different jewels which differentiates me from the other hybrids at home… unique and made for me... which was a crimson red.

“Your owner must have not wanted to deal with a hybrid in heat huh?” she asked and it made me mad how many questions she asked… “No I decided to do it, '' I said and her eyes widened. 

“And your owner actually listened?! No way… I was told all of the hybrid collectors could care less about their hybrid’s opinions!” she laughed and it took lots of control to not threaten her.

I found her annoying so how was I supposed to spend the rest of my time with her?

“You do smell like you’re in heat though… I haven’t started mine but I’m having pre-heat symptoms” she said as she now got closer…

“Ready?”

“Told you so,” Wooyoung said, teasing me and I scoffed. “What happened?” Seonghwa asked, clearly amused. “She kept talking about me as if I was a collectible, it was annoying. She was annoying and she had the same stupid fur color as yours” I muttered and they laughed at my misery.

“All hybrids see us that way because most of the hybrid owners as rich as ours collect hybrids,” Yeosang said and I knew he was right but I didn’t want to hear it…

“Hongjoong! Why would you threaten her?!” y/n soon rushed where we were to yell at me. She was trying to reason with her owner on the walk by phone but I think she just has to pay for damages and the hotel charges for that stuck-up she-tiger…

“She annoyed me” I muttered and she sighed and walked off still talking on the phone negotiating with the she-tiger’s owner. “You do know now you have two options y/n or pills,” Wooyoung said as he tossed me heat suppressants.

I walked silently to my room… Luckily, y/n agreed to move Seonghwa and let me have a room to myself despite the Doberman’s protests.

I sighed… I really didn’t want to take heat suppressants. I never have and starting would be bad for my health…

“Hongjoong” I heard as I saw y/n come in. I was annoyed how she constantly smelt like that panther hybrid especially how he’s been sleeping in her bed as of recently though that is my fault. 

“Have you decided what you want to do?” she asked with a soft smile… she looked so innocent, why did I hate it? I wanted to ruin her…

“Hongjoong?” she said pulling me away from my thoughts. “I’ll just lock myself in here–” “That's not healthy though” She cut me off and I know it wasn’t but the hotel wasn’t an option anymore. 

“I’ll be fine… thank you” I said and she sighed. “I can help you know? I… trust you” she said, actually genuine. “You shouldn’t give your trust to me you know” I said and she smiled. 

“I do though… so Hongjoong?” 

no one’s perspective

You asked one more time before the tiger’s fantasies took over and nodded. Getting closer to the tiger, he grabbed a hold of one of your thighs before pushing you onto the bed he was sitting in a second ago.

If you told Hongjoong he’d share his heart with a human he would’ve laughed at you a few months ago… but the way you looked up at him curious about what he’d do waiting for his move made him feral. 

Those innocent eyes looked up at him… but he knew better. The fox was quite a sex crazed… and the panther a possessive lover, while the Doberman made you the loudest he’s ever heard you. 

It was no secret how much those three loved you… but he never believed that it was truly easy to love you. 

“Don’t look at me like that” he said… even though he likes your eyes looking up at him submissively, even though he knew that it could become an addiction. 

“I thought you were okay with me helping you?” you asked and he hissed. “Not when you make it hard to control myself” he muttered and you offered him one of your genuine smiles… one that differed from the scared and anxious written expression he used to cause. 

“You don’t have to… I'm not fragile, you know?” she asked and I chuckled. “Not that… I know you aren’t. But you make it hard for me not to claim you and mark you for your little mates to see” he teased and you then understood what he meant. 

“I think… you don’t have to worry about that. Do what you’d like” you said and it shocked him. He let you go and sat down on the bed facing his back towards you… not wanting to make a mistake.

“Hongjoong… you’re bonded with Seonghwa right?” you asked and he nodded. “Well… then you really don’t have to worry. I know we had bad impressions but we put that behind us. I’m not stupid… if you want to make me your mate then do it” you said as you put your chin on his shoulder and he chuckled. He turned his head to face you… 

“You’re making it harder on me than anyone i've met” he confessed and she chuckled. “It’s different when you like the person isn’t it?” you said and he didn’t say anything instead he grabbed your jaw but not like he did months ago. He messily and harshly kissed you now desperate…

It was messy as the both of you got lost at the moment. You didn’t even notice when Hongjoong had pinned you down on the bed as his hand stopped your head from moving too much. 

When he pulled away he didn’t give himself any time to let his lungs rest as he sucked and bit on your skin. Specifically on the scar he caused… he didn’t like seeing it so he wanted to cover it with a different meaning. His free hand in the meantime clawed through your shirt and ripped open your bra. He gripped you harshly as if you were trying to run away. 

His tail even gripped onto your thigh letting him comfortably lay between your legs, his chest pressed against yours and his mouth on your neck. 

“Are you sure you want to continue?” he muttered, finally pulling away but not even to look you in the eyes but instead to observe the work he’s done with the dark colored love bites adorning your jaw and neck. 

“Please” you begged and he chuckled. “So pretty when you beg like that” he muttered as he leaned in to give you a loving kiss before trailing down to kissing down to your chest and teasing you until he decided to go lower and stop just at where your panties covered you. 

He ripped them up with his claws as he teased you. The cold air now makes it obvious just how wet you are as he smirks down at you. 

“Anything to say my darling girl?” he asked you and you felt embarrassed having to beg especially when you weren’t used to it. not when the other three were so giving. “Please?” you said and he laughed at your innocence. “Always used to getting what you want don't you?” he teased and he was right… in more ways than one. 

You suddenly yelped as he grabbed the back of your thighs and pressed them up against your chest. “But it's not like I can fight these urges,” he said now feeling his heat slowly getting him pent up.

He lined up his cock against your pussy and teased you as you felt the pressure of his weight on your clit. He wanted to see how your hands pressed against his stomach from his rough handle on you. Almost like prey trying to get free. 

“Please Hongjoong!” you let out and he chuckled as he did what you requested but all in one go making it sting just a little to accommodate his size. 

Hongjoong also let out a string of curses as he freed one hand by putting your leg to rest on his shoulder just to play with your clit making your moans only get louder and your expressions get more lewd. 

He wasn’t normally one to think pervertedly but he definitely wanted to see what type of faces you make when he’s fucking you. 

Both were desperate for one another and this perverted scene wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. He was also intending to make more marks on your body… like handprint bruises on your thighs and more purple hickies adorning your body. Maybe even filling you up in so much cum that you’ll be leaking for days.

Just cause he had to share you, didn’t mean he wasn’t a possessive lover but maybe he’ll convince you to mark him up a bit too?

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3