#you’re self aware where u need to be self aware

[luveline]

I love ur writing 💕 can I request something where reader is dense sortof/has low self esteem, so she likes hotch, admires him and would love to date him but can't imagine he would view her that way,, so he has to be really obvious with his advances? Not self indulgent at all 👉👈 no worries if not. Love u!

Hotch has to break the news that he’s been pursuing you. fem, 2k

Hotch would like to call you unassuming in the kindest way possible. Unassuming, in that not everyone who looks at you would find themselves immediately aware of your beauty (an old-fashioned way to put it, and true), because your poor self esteem leaves you shy. 

You don't believe anyone would want you. It doesn’t matter to Hotch beyond a weary heartbreak for you, as he doesn’t mind if it takes time to convince you. He only wishes you’d have more confidence. You’re pretty and you deserve to know it. 

“Hello,” he says, with intent to try again. 

You like him. He’s a grown man and a good judge of character, better of action, and he’d like to think that your sudden grimace whenever he speaks is again this cloud of insecurity rather than a true dislike for him. You have to warm up to him every day, but you do warm. 

“Hi, Hotch.” 

And listen, he’s not one to flirt at work, but if he ever wants a real shot with you, he has to be heavy-handed. “Hi,” he repeats, smiling, “how are things today?” 

You’re assistant office administrator for the BAU, and so Hotch isn’t technically your boss, but you do work beneath him. “Things are the same as always.” 

“Not too hard for you, then.” 

You catch his teasing, which is a new development. “Not too hard for me,” you say.

He doesn’t pretend he has reason to hang around. He thinks it might’ve contributed to you not believing he’s interested; he’d drop by with coffee because you seemed tired, or checked in on issues that didn’t need his supervision, and you’d taken every extra minute spent at your door as his attentiveness to his job, rather than an affection for you.

He stands with his hand on the doorway and just looks at you. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“You look beautiful today.” 

You touch the button at your neck. “It’s too much for work.” 

“No.” You’re wearing normal business casual clothing. You’ve pulled a necklace over your sweater, soft collar of a shirt kissing your throat. He imagines you’re wearing regular pants and flats or maybe a skirt and short heels beneath the desk, it doesn’t matter. “It’s not just what you’re wearing. You look pretty.” 

You could catch flame if something sparked near you. Lost, your lips part, and eventually you squeeze out a timid, “Thank you, Hotch.” 

 “Aaron.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Can we get coffee?” He dislikes the panic in your eyes and regrets how casual he sounded. “Can I get you a coffee?” 

“I’m okay.” 

“Well, maybe we can take lunch together?” 

“Have I done something?” 

“Have you?” he asks. 

He feels… young. Haley was the only woman he’d been with at a time, and casually there have been others now, but you’re the first woman he’s attempted to woo like this. He sometimes forgets that you’re shy and that he’s been married, distracted by his fizzing, almost joyful feelings for you. Flirting with you is a pleasure. 

You lick your lips quickly. “Where did you want to go? For lunch?” 

He was thinking you could bring your sandwich to his desk, but what you’re asking is a thousand times better. “Where do you want to go? Melanie’s?” he suggests. 

You breathe out in a strange laugh. “For lunch?” 

No, perhaps not. It’s rather fancy. “Somewhere nice, at least,” he says. 

“I don’t know where’s nice.” 

“Well, we can find somewhere. I’ll try to find somewhere before one, what do you think?” 

“Okay.” 

He smiles. “Okay.” 

He’s pulling away from the doorway when you stand up from your rolling chair and say his name, a near yelp, “Hotch! Wait, uh, wait a second.” 

He immediately turns back. “What?” he asks, giving you a quick once over. 

“Are you sure I’m not in trouble for something?” you ask. To your credit, you give a bashful little laugh. “I feel like I’m walking into a trap.” 

“I have no intentions of trapping you anywhere.” 

“Please don’t fire me at Melanie’s.” 

He smiles at you again and leaves your alcove of the office to head back to his own. Around the desks and the bullpen where his team sit doing their paperwork, up the stairs to the landing. He pauses before he goes inside.

JJ’s standing behind Derek’s desk. They’re chatting, JJ sipping at a mug, a small smile on her lips. Spencer watches her from his own desk. He doesn’t like her anymore to Hotch’s knowledge, but it doesn’t stop him from smiling at her with that slight thread of lovelorn shyness when she asks him what he’s so busy doing. 

Hotch has a moment of clarity at his desk when he realises he needs to find somewhere perfect to take you come lunch time. You hadn’t seemed convinced of your job security when he’d left you, and he spends some time pondering how best to accommodate you as he sorts thought Quantico’s best cafes and restaurants. 

He has emails to answer, phone calls to take, and to make. Time moves quickly, and by 1:02 he’s all sorts of late. It’s almost 1:12PM when he’s again at your office door, a warm plastic bag against his side. 

You’re looking at your lap. Coat in your hands, lip nibbled raw, there’s an internal conversation happening that he’s not privy to. He doubts he’d like it very much —the agony of self-doubt is written plainly in your slouch. 

He knocks your door, feeling very sorry for your startled jump. “Hi. Sorry, I’m late, I know. But I thought I’d bring dinner to you.” 

He thought of it like this: if he were to take you to dinner, you could explain it away as a professional superior who was going to fire you and changed his mind, or a superior checking in on his employee, or a superior simply being kind. He has, on occasion, taken different members of his team or office out to discuss things in their lunch hours because he was busy and needed their time at a convenient hour. You might not think anything of it. 

Right now, Hotch really wants you to think something of it. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Is that okay with you, if we stay here?” 

It’s a little much for you, apparently. You finally tip into incredulity. “Aaron, is everything alright? I really don’t understand what’s going on.” 

“I’d like to eat lunch together.”

“But why?” 

“Because you’re good company.” He’s sat knee to knee with serial killers, and his next sentence is still scary, “Because I like you, and I’m not sure how else to show it.” 

You press your coat to your stomach, frowning. “You like me.” 

“I was under the impression that you liked me too,” he says, smiling despite you and himself. Hotch might be a drill sergeant and a bully all those terrible moody stations as a boss, but he’s also just a man, and there’s little room for stoicism in love. 

“But you…” 

He waits, but then feels too sorry for you to let you flounder. “Honey, I don’t know how else to put it. I’ve tried compliments, I brought you that plant,” —he points to the still blooming orchid on your window— “I ask you what your plans are every weekend.” He looks swiftly behind him. Alone, he edges into your office to close the door and allow some privacy. “And every weekend I ask you if you want to get a drink. I’d think you didn’t like me if it weren’t for your tell.” 

“What’s my tell?” 

Your hand. Whenever he’s around, you take something into your hand and squeeze at it or feel it like you’re going to explode with nerves. He saves you the explanation, and instead lays his most gentle look on you. “If I’m wrong, please let me know. I’d never want to put you in an uncomfortable position, but you’re lovely.”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” you say, semi-disbelieving. “You never do. I'm just confused.” 

“I’d really like to get to know you as more than a colleague.”

“You know me,” you mumble. 

He does. He knows what your favourite colour is, your favourite food, your soccer team. He sent you flowers on your birthday, asks after your sick neighbour, and checks your office light every night when he goes home, though he knows what time you leave each evening. And he knows that you’re scared to admit to liking him or anyone, because you worry you’re not allowed. 

“I do,” he agrees, giving the plastic bag a jostle. He doesn’t need big answers now. “Can I sit down?” 

You might not have a big answer to give, but your expression tells a story nonetheless. You wheel your seat backward and he pulls a spare chair toward your desk, your smile like an adornment as you push aside your things to make room. You smile so hard it changes your entire face. 

“Do you have napkins?” you ask, not so subtly breathless as he places the bag down and pushes the plastic back. 

He pulls out a wedge of them. You pinch them, and for a second the both of you hold them, your eyes meeting, your cheeks appled with matching smiles. 

“I thought the orchid was for secretary’s day,” you say quietly, taking the napkins. 

“You aren’t a secretary,” he says, holding out a plastic fork. 

When you go to grab it, he moves it up out of the way. Your startled laugh is beautiful. Totally stunning. He hadn’t realised how badly he’d wanted the quiet intimacy of teasing you over lunch until he had it. 

You grab the fork before he can move it again. “Too slow,” you say. 

“Oh, you think so?” he asks. 

“I know so, Aaron. Who has the fork?” 

Aaron, he thinks. Finally, Aaron. “You have the fork, but I have your lunch. I’d tread carefully if I were you.” 

[schoenpepper]

It's Okay to Play Favorites (Vice Housewardens)

Intro: You accidentally get sucked into the world of Twisted Wonderland, your favorite game, like, ever. And uh, you may or may not have teleported with a plushie of your favorite character…

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread, self aware au but not god, your card collection is just you being freaky and taking pictures of them, google translated French be warned, ortho’s is platonic and if u take it any other way i ban u, lilia’s is also platonic but if u see romance crumbs i won't stop u, ik ruggie and ortho aren't vice housewardens but get this idgaf

A/N: Bro college got me fucked (second day in i know i'm a fucking whiner i hate it all). Not a request, just some random stuff I wrote during my 3 hour round-trip commute jfc. If my Jade favoritism is acting up, no it ain't.

Masterlist

Trey Clover is a man often overlooked, whether in the fandom or the world of Twisted Wonderland.

So when you get transported in during orientation, you, the player, were holding a plush form of him?

He blanks out.

Sorry Riddle, your vice housewarden kinda crashed maybe you can reboot him or something.

Trey’s never thought of himself as anything special, but he must be if he’s your favorite character, right?

You befriend him with a giddy smile, he can almost see the hearts in your eyes as you fan[redacted] so hard you actually hug him in your excitement.

The player? Hugged? Him?????

“Crazy bro that’s like super nuts so jealous of you.” - Cater Diamond

Hm, he gets a bit bashful when you take so many pictures of him.

Do you really like him that much?

He…likes you too.

“Cringe.” - Cater Diamond

I’m just a normal person, you know? At least, the closest someone can get to normal in this place. You still want me? Are you sure?

…Okay.

If you’re sure.

Unfortunately, to date a dad is to put up with dad jokes.

Do you mind though?

Makes you the most delicious pastries and confectionery known to mankind. You’ll probably get 5 lbs fatter and a sugar addiction.

But your teeth will be beautiful because he teaches you how to brush your teeth properly.

(Ten kinds of toothbrushes…)

Picnic dates.

Tea party dates.

Baking dates.

You might need to go on a diet to stay in shape because Trey doesn’t mind fat. He will probably love you more if you’re chubby.

But he loves you regardless.

Rest of the cast is like, vaguely jealous because why Trey?

But also he has a generally good rapport with other people so it’s cool.

Maybe.

Ruggie Bucchi wasn’t really paying too much attention at the ceremony but you definitely drew his focus.

Is that a plushie hyena beastman?

Does not register that it’s him until someone calls it out.

What? Why? How? When? Where?

He probably has major self esteem issues because, you know, the school’s filled to the brim with rich kids and people with status.

He has neither money nor power. So when he finds out he’s your favorite character? Boom.

He lets out his cute (im not biased) laugh but it’s because he doesn’t know how else to react.

You want to be his friend? Why not?

(Laughs again because he’s exploding on the inside)

You hug him???? Crazy. You owe him a donut for that, bro.

Thinks the picture thing is a bit weird but who is he to argue with the player?

You’re weird, y’know? There’s like princes and moguls and stuff in NRC, why me?

You like me? You find me charming?

That’s not something I’d really use for myself but hey…knock yourself out. Shishishi.

Floof.

You get to scratch his ears and kiss ‘em and watch ‘em twitch while he tries to get away from you.

Insane bro wish I was you.

Cuddly and surprisingly clingy, loves loves loves being pampered.

Are you indoctrinated by my subby Ruggie vibes yet???

His love language is sharing food.

(Have you ever tried passing candy through a kiss? No? Wanna try?)

His grandma will love you <3

The other characters will be giving him major stink eye. The scrappy hyena? Really?

Yes really.

“Whatever, good for you.” - Leona probably.

Jade Leech is amused.

Rather childish, is it not? Well, he’s flattered that you think so highly of him and even have this stuffed toy in his image.

Unfortunately, he does hold enough respect for you as the player to not immediately use your infatuation with him for nefarious purposes.

Not to say he doesn’t tease you though.

You are the flustered one here.

He’s your favorite? Oya, how interesting. He’s never seen himself the way that you do, but who is he to argue with the player?

Please, what do you like so much about him? Do tell.

(His systems crash when you hug him but you’ll never know)

You seem to enjoy taking his pictures. If you let him [redacted] you can take as many as you want.

If you don’t take him up on his offer I will!!!

My, I never expected to be your ‘favorite character’, was it? Well, I don’t mind.

What do I think of you?

Fufu, wouldn’t you like to know?

Loving a sadist means you’re probably a masochist.

You like it when he ‘unintentionally’ makes you do something stupid? Toys with you? Teases you with his annoyingly adorable super cutie pie grin?

Bro you have weird taste I could like, never~

If you didn’t like mushrooms before you do now.

You wish he’d look at you the way he looks at his terrariums.

You know that silly, happy, dopey little look he gets? The lab coat groovy one? Yeah.

Hiking dates if you’re physically able to. If not, he makes like the fanciest dinner dates ever.

He does love you, promise.

The other characters are highkey judging you.

Jamil Viper is inside his hoodie and is very unlikely to ever come out.

You’re kinda embarrassing but what is he supposed to do?

You’re the player. You have a plushie Jamil. Tiny and cute.

Jamil doesn’t see himself as cute. Wouldn’t it be better if you had a different one? Someone sunnier, someone warmer, someone like…Kalim?

Jamil’s your favorite character?

Yeah he’s not leaving his hoodie.

When you’re so happy and excited that you hug him, his soul leaves his body through his lips.

Rip Jamil Viper.

I don’t think Jamil’s very used to the camera, considering he’s technically Kalim’s servant and servants stay in the background.

But since you adore him the way that you do, well, he won’t stop you.

You’re strange. Is this a prank?

No, I don’t mean to doubt you. It’s just that…

No, nevermind. Since you want me, I’ll—love? You love me? Fine, I can work with that too.

His favorite kind of date is one where you two sleep and cuddle together.

He needs a break.

It’s not too often that he can carve time out of babysitting, so any time spent with him you’ll cherish like gold.

You can help him with chores if you manage to persist through multiple rejections.

He’d really prefer not to make the player do chores with him, but when you smile so wide like that, he can’t refuse anymore on the grounds of you not enjoying it.

Kalim can lend you guys the carpet though, you wanna fly?

While the cast doesn’t generally approve of the snake, you’re very loud about your infatuation.

They can’t stop you.

Rook Hunt is a lover of beauty, and you, the player, are the most beauté of all! (full points :D)

Qu'est-ce que c'est? A soft and fluffy copy of himself? How wonderous! Marvelous! The adorable cotton-filled blah blah blah (insert soliloquy here)

While there’s a tiny thought in his mind that perhaps the poison apple or the queen would be more befitting of a nui plush, he still takes your fascination with him in stride.

(It’s not often that he’s in this role.)

To be your favorite, it is an honor!

He shall dedicate a poem to your inner and outer beauty!

Accidentally tosses you to the ground when you try to hug him.

Desolé, instinct. Try again?

He’s not used to being the one in the spotlight, but please, take as many pictures as you need!

Love? Love is the most beautiful indeed. Comme toi, tellement adorable. Lovely.

You’re asking if I have someone I love?

Je suis un lâche de ne pas exprimer mon amour pour toi. 

Either you get what he’s saying or you remember it so you can translate later.

Anyway, have you ever wanted to hunt for sport as a date?

No?

How about getting hunted for sport?

Still no? Shame.

Rook settles for little camping trips in the woods, just you and him and the forest (and his bow and quiver of arrows and his hunting knife and his dagger and—).

He makes very good roasted meat.

You’ll enjoy it as long as you remember not to ask where it’s from.

Uh, ignore how every other cast member is judging you. Love is love, right?

Ortho Shroud is very happy! Very excited! Yay!

You’re a legendary figure, and you’re treating him so nicely! 

Is that a toy made to look like him? You like Ortho? He’s your favorite character?

Yay!

Robo baby is very happy.

Since you like Ortho, do you like Idia too?

Can you be Idia’s friend?

Can you be a new older sibling? Please?

(Say yes or I will [redacted])

Hugs? Hugs!

Forehead kisses?

Yes!

You seem to enjoy taking many pictures of Ortho. Why is this? You like him that much?

If so, maybe you two should take pictures together instead of always taking pictures of him alone. He’d love to take lots of pictures with you!

Can Idia come?

I am your favorite character? Like in a video game? This world is also a video game?

That’s great!

What kind of character am I?

Lilia Vanrouge thinks you’re funny. But also totally correct.

He must be sinful because even you, dear player, find him absolutely adorable!

Hehehe…

Is that a tiny Lilia? Good taste! It’s almost as adorable as the real one.

When you hug him in your excitement, he just laughs and pats your back.

Grandpa vibes.

A picture? Why not?

A selfie, as you kids say. (bro you’re not even detached from modern technology???)

Really likes taking pictures with you.

Since you like him a lot and he’s your favorite character, be a dear and forgo your sleep schedule to game with him.

I’m your favorite, right? Surely that means you’d love to taste my cooking?

No? Why, I’m saddened by your rejection…

There we go. It’s not so bad, is it? I made it with effort, onions, garlic…are you alright? Oh dear.

[on-leatheredwings]

any hc for male reader x yandere batfam?? any of them will work. also the batboy didn't know he was bi at first (unless you're doing Tim). and the reader is dealing with internalized homophobia?

somethin short n sweet :]

Soft! Older! Yandere! Damian Wayne / Male Reader

> romantic > tw/cw: internalized homophobia, references to violent homophobia > word count: 723 > a/n: just something short and sweet... > male reader can be cis or trans

"Study with me," is what Damian Wayne says, before placing a pile of books on your already-crowded table.

His clean cut appearance contrasts with the hipster, rustic interior of your favorite cafe. It’s not really his scene, as far as you’re aware. Both the decor and the abundant crowd. 

You lean back in your chair, narrowing your eyes. "Wayne.” You have to try not to sneer.

You are acquainted with him, after all. His marks are always top of the class, and yours are always seconding. You’re at Gotham U entirely on scholarship, just having transferred from community college. You’re first in your family to go to college, period, and they were risking everything for you to be here. You had to be top of your class if you wanted to pursue your post-grad plans. 

Always being second to this nepo-baby billionaire is a bitter knock to your self-esteem. You wince, feeling sharp pain on your ribcage. One you don’t need with all the other bitter knocks your classmates already give you.

You stare up at the man, wishing he hadn’t caught you in your seat. You blink, realizing that he isn't moving. "Wait, what did you say?" you ask.

“... I said, 'study with me.'" He elegantly lands in the seat across from you at the all-too-small table. "I’ll be sitting here.”

You gape at him.

“But– y-you don’t even like me…?” Damian had never spared you the time of day until … this day. You assumed you were a gnat to him at best. Just some brokie who managed to sneak his way into his school.

How utterly wrong you were.

Damian Wayne hadn’t expected to end up with anyone other than a woman, he supposed. It had been assumed of him during his childhood and he hadn’t questioned it. From a young age he had been aware of homosexuality, and that men could be attractive, but he hadn’t considered it for himself in any serious capacity. 

Even Timothy coming out didn’t spur any curiosity from him. Despite his siblings teasing, his closeness to Jon was entirely platonic. So Damian just assumed, like the majority of the world, he was heterosexual. Until you had transferred into one of his classes and stole his breath away.

Damian’s eyes narrow and, if you can believe it, glimmer with interest. “I don’t recall ever saying that. For all you know, I could be quite fond of you.” His eyes lower to where your lips lie. “... Or at the very least, interested.”

You cheeks heat rise to your cheeks, before you flinch. There's no way. He didn’t mean it like that. Yet despite discerning his expression… Oh fuck, maybe he meant it like that? You panic, head snapping away from his. No– no. You are not going to be weird about this. You could have a friend here. 

The last time you misinterpreted friendliness from your peers as romantic advances... Those bruises are still healing, still aching when you stretch and bend. Your stomach roils with hurt, fear, and betrayal – no. You weren’t going to repeat the same mistake this time. You’ve been ostracized from most of your peers by now. ‘Pervert’ and ‘predator’ they named you. But maybe… you could have a friend here.

In your silence, Damian finds tendrils of curiosity churning in his stomach. He wants desperately to talk to you. To hear you speak. To listen to you talk at length about the lectures he finds so droll, but you find rapturing. Test scores meant nothing. He may be better at memorizing the text, but he’s read your essays. He clears his throat, lifting his chin on instinct to feign confidence.

You look up at him shyly, before realizing you’ve been mulling in silence like a freak for the past few minutes. Damian doesn’t mind, having been able to openly admire you.

You cough, trying to ease the confusion thrumming in your veins. “... Well, fine. I could use a sounding board.”

“Shall we start with the next test review?” Damian offers, flipping open a book.

You perk up, having been about to suggest lighter reading rather than the dense, metaphysical chapters your professor recommended. You nod fervently, lips curling to Damian’s delight.

“Yes, please,” you say, metaphorical tag wagging.

New friend, new friend, you inwardly cheer. 

Damian’s thoughts run considerably more romantic.

[itadores]

love and like (it’s not the same)

note: i do hope u like this :( missing my baby (kento) a lot

pairing: nanami kento x gn!reader

word count: 1.2k

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship (married), nanami calls reader dear & darling, emotional hurt/comfort, reader is feeling insecure

“Do you like me?”

From where he's seated on the couch, Kento glances at you, his reading glasses hanging low on the bridge of his nose. You're leaning against the doorway to the living room, arms loosely folded across your chest. You’re dressed in your usual loungewear, which consists of a pair of comfortable cloth shorts and an old shirt of Kento’s that you claimed as your own long ago. It brings a small smile to Kento’s face before he remembers that he has yet to respond. He raises a brow as your question fully sinks in.

“We’re married, dear,” Kento answers, eyes drifting back to the pages of his book - one that he's been meaning to finish for the longest time. He’s made it about half way through and hopes that he can make some more progress before retiring for bed later this evening. "I love you."

"I know. I love you too, but—” you pause. “But do you like me?" Your voice cracks, and silence rings throughout the room.

Kento lowers his book into his lap, the paragraph he was in the midst of long forgotten. Your voice sounds small and unsure and so unlike your usual self, drawing Kento's immediate concern. He looks at you once more, studying you more closely this time. Your body has folded into itself. Your shoulders are hunched and tensed as if you’re physically bracing yourself to take on the weight of Kento’s response. Your fingers are woven tightly into fists around the material of your shirt as your gaze remains far from Kento’s direction.

Kento marks his place in his book and sets it aside on the end table near the couch along with his reading glasses. His book can wait until later. There's something much more important that needs Kento's attention.

"Come here, darling,” he says, voice soft.

You move like a wounded animal as you slowly shuffle across the room, the mismatched socks on your feet muffling the sound of your steps. Gingerly, you take a seat on the couch beside Kento, settling your weight on the very edge of the cushion as if you're ready to dart at any given moment. Your body is wound tight with tension, the hard lines of your shoulder heavy. Your hands lay in your lap, fingers fidgeting with each other to relieve your anxious energy.

Kento covers your hands with one of his own and squeezes.

"What prompted this?" he gently asks.

You stop playing with your fingers, loosening your tightly interlocked hands and allowing Kento to slide his hand into yours. He rubs circles with his thumb against the back of your hand, trying to loosen the rigidity running through your body. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. His thumb traces a path for itself into your skin. Kento is patient as he waits for you to gather your thoughts, aware of how difficult it can be for you to voice your vulnerabilities.

"I don't know," you quietly say, a tinge of frustration in your tone. Your shoulders are tight against your ears before you drop them, sagging. Your body wilts. "Just got too in my head, I guess. Started thinking about my relationships with people and whether they actually like me or just feel obligated to be around me. It's stupid I know but once I started thinking, I couldn't stop."

"Nothing that concerns you could ever be stupid, dear," Kento says, soft yet firm. "Thank you for coming to me with your worries. I know it must not have been easy for you to do so." He squeezes your hand before removing it from your lap and bringing it closer to him. He places your joined hands in his lap.

"I did not marry you out of any sort of obligation. I married you because I love and care for you."

Kento raises your hand to his face and brushes his lips against your knuckles in a gentle kiss.

"Of course, I like you. I would be a fool not to."

You suck in a quiet breath, and the spool of tension within you completely unravels.

The couch dips with your abrupt movements, and Kento grunts when you suddenly shift the majority of your weight onto him. Your arms wind tightly around his torso as you bury your face into his chest. Although unexpected, Kento is quick to adapt and adjusts his position to better accommodate you. He leans further back into the corner of the couch, providing you with more room to be comfortable. He lays his arms across the expanse of your upper back, folding his hands together, and rests his cheek against the top of your head. You breathe Kento in and exhale, melting into his touch and sinking into his embrace.

"Thank you, Kento," you murmur. He feels your words more than he hears it with your face properly buried into the material of his sweater.

He presses a comforting kiss to your hairline. "Of course, darling. I'm glad I could at least be of some assistance."

He feels you huff against his chest. A good sign. Kento's remaining concern unlodges itself from his throat.

This is not the first time you've expressed having these thoughts, and Kento is not so naive to think that this will be the last time that your traitorous brain will lead you astray. Kento only hopes that he can guide you back onto the right path with the little comfort he can offer you. If only you could see yourself from Kento's perspective, you would never doubt yourself again.

You stay as you are for a while, with you fully enveloped in Kento's embrace and your head resting on his chest, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeats. He has no doubt that you must be emotionally exhausted by this point, believing that you may have fallen asleep with how quiet you've gotten. Kento mentally resolves himself to a night of numb limbs and a morning of a stiff neck and joints.

"Kento?"

Kento hums, mildly surprised that you had not fallen asleep.

"Yes, darling?"

You rub the loose material of his sweater gathered at his sides between your fingers, fiddling with the fabric. You peel your cheek off of Kento's chest, moving to rest your chin in the same spot as you look up at Kento through your lashes.

"I like you a lot. I hope you know," you softly say.

A soft smile paints itself across Kento's face. He leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before nuzzling his nose against yours.

"Thank you for the reminder," he breathes out, honest and sincere. "I like you too," he tells you once more before slotting his lips with yours. He hopes the kiss conveys all that he is unable to put into words. All of the love and care he holds in his heart for you. Kento draws back when he’s sure that your lungs must be reaching its limit without air, much to your displeasure. Kento lightly chuckles when he sees your expression, leaning in to kiss the pout off your lips. He lingers close, your exhales mingling in the space between you.

If Kento has to remind you of his devotion to you every day for the rest of your lives, he will gladly do so.

[wayfayrr]

hey uh. if requests r open. would it b possible to request a follow up to that self-aware-twi fic. if not thats ok i just wanted u to know i havent stopped thinking about it since i read it. altered my brain chemistry, touch-starved twilight princess link my beloved, etc etc. ur writing is top-tier <3<3<3

I think the best part about this ask is - I've had this written since early January. I actually wrote part two as a birthday gift for a good friend of mine @glowyskull <33

So this is more just me finally posting it sfbgdfbgdb. it's also funny to think that the twilight fic is my most popular fic now considering how the self aware au really started as just a really guiltily self indulgent fic - something fun to write that I didn't think could get as big as it did on my blog. and I'm glad that you liked it so much <333 whimpery touch starved twilight princess link is just so AUGH love him so

[masterlist]

“Oh you’re finally wakin up then darlin’.”

“...hmm?”

“C’mon darlin’, you can’t have forgotten what happened earlier already? Can you? Your fever - cold isn’t that bad so you can't have…”

Who’s rambling… and why does it sound so familiar?  Wait does that mean - is everything that happened earlier all real then, did link really crawl out of my tv just because he was lonely. Because I left him there, left him all on his own to rot in his own solitude. 

“Link? You - that - everything was real then? All of it?”

“All of it darlin’, from how I got out to how I’m never gonna leave ya.”

“Huh..? I could’ve sworn that you didn’t even mention anything like that…”

“Mhm, well you’re ill and still a little out of it darlin’ so you probably just forgot, you did agree though.” 

It does sound like something that I would agree to, I mean I’m the reason that he’s sentient. It would be cruel of me to throw him to the other wolves, he isn’t from here but besides even that, he isn’t from here. He doesn’t know how this world works, it would be worse than sending a dog to a shelter. It would be his death sentence for certain, and after all that I put him through for a simple pause in playing. The way he’s petting my hair like this though, it’s enough to simply just wash the rest of my worries away, if I could I would spend the rest of my life right here easily.  

“About your illness though, do you have any red potion anywhere?” 

“No, no things like that don’t exist here link and the painkillers I have aren’t worth moving for.” 

“If you’re sure… I’ll go and get them for you the second you change your mind.”    

“You don’t even know where I keep them.” 

His hand paused at that, causing me to let out an involuntary whine. I couldn’t even think to stop it with how it slipped out instantly, which he seemed fond of. Cuddling me closer to his chest and resting his head on top of mine, with what felt like a giant smile on his face. 

“I can look for them, It’s not like I won’t need to learn where everything is now that I’m living with ya… besides I’ve already put you through so much stress when you’re not well.”

“You didn’t mean to link, how could you have known I was sick?”

“...I don’t know - I just - it shouldn’t have been hard to know with how you looked when you opened the game. I’m sorry love I just wasn’t even thinking I just wanted to be out, but I should’ve been more considerate to you.”

With how silent he is in the game you could never have guessed how much he likes to ramble, it’s the second or third time it’s happened since he crawled out of the glas- the glass. Are his bandages holding up, he seems fine but he’s not from here, any infection could be deadly. He wouldn’t even see it coming with how much he’s fawning over my comfort right now. 

“Link?” “Yes, darlin’?”

Oh wow, he - well he’s whipped already. Is it real love or has all that time trapped alone twisted him into this. I’d look into getting him therapy but… if he mentioned the truth then it would be a matter of seconds until he’d be diagnosed with something inaccurate. No one. No one at all would ever believe that a video game character actually broke out of their game - especially not someone like Link falling for an exhausted student like me.

“Are you feeling alright? You have so many cuts and wounds right now.”

“It’s nothing that’s worse than anything else I’ve ever had. They do feel more real though.”

“...real?”

“They feel like real wounds, not something that could be healed away in seconds and they’re just tiny scrapes.”He sounds so giddy as he’s talking about being hurt - it’s unnerving when he starts holding me even tighter when he’s saying it. I don’t think I’m ever going to be getting away from him ever again… if I wanted to. Why shouldn’t I take a chance at having a relationship though. He cares about me - he really does even if it’s unhinged - it would be so nice to come home to him, to be able to spoil him and be spoilt by him. Even being held like this feels so unreal, so impossible that I shouldn’t be here with him. So much so that I want to stay here and fall back asleep without any argument. Didn’t he even say he wanted to be my lover? Why look over a gift too closely?

[coralinnii]

Hello! If u dont remember me I'm the person that requested the villainess au Trey x reader from a long time ago, just wanna drop in and say I really look forward to your works and hope you have a great day/night/time! Sorry for bothering you if this message ends up being a bother

‧₊˚✧ Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy‧₊˚✧

feat: Trey

genre: slow burn, coworkers-to-something more

note: no pronouns were used for reader, reader is implied to be old enough to work, mentions of poisoning and assassination attempts, reader is somewhat emotionally constipated.

extra note: While Trey is not quite in-character as I would like, he is supposed to be younger than his canon version, so I wanted him to be more unsure and inexperienced than his future self.

I did it, I finally got this done. Praise me (don't)

Being Reincarnated as the Bad Guy aka Villain/ess AU masterlist

You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense. No, you seriously don’t.

One minute you were finally getting off a particularly bad shift at work, only to be in this strange world you don’t recognize…as a low-ranking servant to the bloody royal family!

The rules, the standards, the pretentious nobles you have to smile in fear of having your neck sliced…where’s OSHA when you need them?

At least your coworkers were decent and you’re not in charge of anything too major like waiting on the Queen or her son, unlike that young aide-in-training you see running up and down the palace…poor Sir Clover.

Not your problem, though

…Until a couple of greedy noblemen forced a vial of poison into your hands, promising you a grand reward of money and status for your compliance. They wanted you to spike the drink of the crown prince’s closest aide-in-training so they could plant their own men by his side.

With your best service smile on, you handed back the vial back.

“No ❤️”

When they try to threaten you, you kindly remind them that if they plan to drag you in the mud, you’re not above pulling them along with you.

“If I’m going down, I’m dragging everyone with me.”

Once that was over, you wanted to cleanse yourself from this ugly conspiracy. You were way too busy worrying about your own neck, and you assumed that Sir Clover was cautious over his own safety that you, a mere worker bee, have nothing to contribute.

However, you do notice that the young green-haired man seems to prioritize others over himself, and the lights to his room are often still lit until late into the night. An honest young man burdened with responsibilities; his defenses may not always be on guard…

Ugghh, what a pain in the-

“Um, excuse me?” You looked to the tall nobleman trying to capture your attention.

“Yes, Sir Clover?”

“Were you originally scheduled to work today?”

You held your urge to click your tongue. Of course, Trey would be aware of at least who was scheduled to wait on Prince Riddle and him. What an annoyingly conscientious man.

“My colleague was feeling unwell so I offered to take her place for today. I apologize for not informing you beforehand.” You bowed politely which made the bespectacled man a little flustered.

“No, I’m grateful she could take a rest. Thank you for taking up the role but please let us know next time so we can offer some medical help if needed.”

That wouldn’t be necessary, you thought as you nodded regardless. Your coworker wasn’t really sick in any way but she was more than happy to switch schedules with you.

Many of the servants are under the impression that you harbored a crush on the admittedly cute aide-in-training since you were caught glancing at his direction more often than usual. It wouldn't be surprising if your “crush” in question is also aware of the gossip, which leads to his tenseness around you. Be it kindness or hesitance, Sir Clover chose not to reprimand you for doing as you please.

“What a pain, but I guess it works in my favor anyway.”

A knock rang through the room and with Riddle’s permission, an anxious maid came in with a tray carrying a tea set, confusing everyone in the room.

It’s not time for afternoon tea yet.

“What is the meaning of this?” For someone so young, Riddle’s sharp tone ran a deadly chill down everyone’s back. “Afternoon tea is not for another 13 minutes.”

The maid stuttered in fear, the tea set clattering slightly in her hands. “T-The servants thought that His Highness and Sir C-Clover have been working tirelessly today and perhaps some tea could help.”

You had too much of a survival instinct to dare look at the prince but the silence and building heat in the air was evidence enough that the thought was not appreciative.

Trey was quick to clear the tension with an awkward cough and a smile. “Thank you, I could use some.”

At his words, you dutifully proceeded to reach for the set when the maid hastily pulled it away from you.

Strange

“I-I can do it. Please excuse me” Without sparing a glance towards you, the maid quickly set the tray down on a nearby table and worked to pour a cup.

You’ve seen this maid only a few times. She was a new addition to the roster, too new to approach the royal family but here she was. She hadn't even learned how to properly hold the pot which was noticeable to everyone but was ignored (at the behest of Trey’s wordless plea) due to assumed inexperience.

“She’s so nervous but here she is, so adamant about serving some damn tea…”

A suffocating feeling rising in your throat, you watched with trepidation as the maid walked towards Trey while holding the teacup almost too preciously.

“Eek!” The maid shrieked when your hand squeezed her wrist in an unforgiving grip. She turned to question you but your glare kept her silent.

Trey looked at you with confusion, but your attention kept on the shaking maid and the teacup. With your other hand, you reach for your silver brooch given as part of your uniform to symbolize you as a person of the royal family.

The confusion in Trey’s eyes turned to disbelief when he watched your silver brooch become a damning color as you dipped the silver into the tea.

The broken maid would have crumbled completely onto the pristine floor if not for your hand still on her wrist. While she seemed to be a bumbling mess begging for her life, you couldn’t risk her making a run for it.

You don’t get paid enough for this nonsense.

”So, it was a plan to replace me…permanently.”

You stood silently in front of the solemn man in his office. After arresting her, it was easy to extract information from the maid and prince Riddle is gathering evidence for their act of treason, including your own interrogation.

“You are the trusted aide-to-be of the prince that cannot be bribed. You’re considered an obstacle.” You bowed your head. “I apologize for not speaking out sooner but if it were just my words without evidence, I could have my tongue removed for accusing nobility.”

If it was just you, then you wouldn’t be as confident. But to think that those corrupted nobles managed to convince someone else to do their dirty work. They were desperate and now that there was an attempt, the higher authorities have to take action.

“I shouldn’t feel bad for that maid…why should I for the choice she made…” you could still feel the sensation of that woman’s shaking body in the hand that held her. You don’t like it.

“Ha, you really don’t sugarcoat your words.” Trey’s voice pulled you back as he tried to laugh but his young body felt too heavy to put his whole heart into it.

But it’s finally over. The poisoning failed and those stupid noble scums were on Prince Riddle’s hit-list. That feeling of guilt that ate at your heart could finally rest in peace…right?

Even when he was the victim of all this, Trey was still sitting in his office in charge of investigating his own assassination attempt, on top of his usual duties in assisting the Royal family.

“Thank you for your time,” he even dares to smile kindly at you with dark circles under his warm eyes. “If you could, please call over the head staff to plan on interrogating the rest of the servants.”

“No.”

“N-No?”

“I won’t be doing that. I could ask the head staff to leave his schedule open if needed or if he could handle it with the guards since that’s his f*cking job,” You stared right into Trey’s eyes which widened in surprise. “For now, I humbly suggest Sir Clover to take a rest in his room or to work on something other than your assassination case.”

You didn’t wait for your stunned employer to reply as you bowed politely once more. “If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave.”

You moved away, making your way to the door before pausing. You glanced back at the young man in such a large office and your consciousness felt heavy. Your body was physically no older than Trey or Riddle but the weight on their shoulders was immeasurable, too much for either of them to handle on their own.

“Sir Clover,” you refused to look him in the eyes, “if you ever need anything…I’m willing to assist however I can.”

Immediately regretting your embarrassing words, you quickly added “but during work hours only!” before hastily leaving the office.

A shame really, since you missed the way Trey let out a genuine laugh after so long.

[just-a-ghost00]

A message from a beloved soul 🕊️

Recently, I felt called to ask for advice from passed on artists that have greatly impacted my life. A few months ago, my role model and most beloved artist passed away suddenly. I never thought this day would come. Or rather I didn’t want to think about it. And lately I feel his energy very strongly. I thought that maybe some of you could need some advice from an artist you miss dearly as well. I’m sorry if this triggers anybody. I thank these beautiful souls that have provided us with light and love for all these years for their messages and I hope that wherever they are in the Universe, their soul is at peace. ❤️

Group 1

Letters : B Y I T J S L G K M U A P G D F Words : guys, tails, mask, Sag, just, Jiluka, Atsuki, July, Aug, days, pay, gay, Yumi, Yuki, Bad guy, kid, must play, guita(r), fly, BSK, family, silk, ask my pals if I still must (???), stalk, dumb, Mt Fuji

Tissue box messages : Singer, blue eyes, Scorpio I TRANSFORM Nov 23 to Nov 29, Capricorn I CREATE Jan 20 to Feb 16, 6th house daily life I LOVE, 12th house Spiritual life I DREAM

Their channeled message to you :

Baby the world is yours to take. Fate is yours to create. No matter the pain, no matter the fears, no matter the obstacles, you must live on. Do you hear me? Live. Scream at the top of your lungs. You can cry too. But don’t give up. I am with you every step of the way. My wings will carry you for as long as I can.

Clarifications - 10 of swords, Black Numen, King of cups, King of wands, 10 of pentacles, 10 of cups

This artist that you are asking about knows that you are going through a hard time and that a part of you doesn’t believe in your ability to make it through but they want to reassure you because not only do you have what it takes but the outcome is going to be much more brighter than you could ever imagine. You’re getting there. You’re so close to reaching your goal. I believe that there are actually two artists that are surrounding you with their love. They are both encouraging you to keep moving, though you may not understand where this will lead you, though you may not see the bigger picture. Because after this period of grieving and emotional turmoil, of hardships and uncertainty, awaits a bright and warm future, full of joy and abundance. While one helps you heal your wounds and deal with possible depression/mental health issues, the other is helping you manifest success in all areas of your life by fueling your fire and inspiring you. You may feel like your creativity is boosted and your mind is fuming with new ideas. Both of them are masculine in their energy. One of them may especially connect with you through your dreams while the other would rather put on your way resources and people that are beneficial to your growth. The channeled message you received was from the one you were asking about. But the other artist still wanted to silently show their support. I believe that in their living time this person wasn’t very talkative but would instead show their love through actions. They remained the same in the after life.

🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️

Group 2

Letters : A V U S E I F S V N A U I M K P Words : miss u, veins, pain, pause, Suki, fave, fame, pave, Mana, Aki, naive, invasive, Nivea, niveau (French for level), suave, Kaname, kiss me, five men, fans, vie (life/live), Pisa

Tissue box messages : Gym rat, creative soul, dorky/quirky, Scorpio I TRANSFORM Nov 23 to Nov 29, Ophiuchus I HEAL Nov 29 to Dec 17, 1st house awareness of self I AM

Their message to you :

My Jade ~ You are so beautiful. Your soul is so beautiful it shines all the way to heaven. God and the angels are so pleased with you. Seeing you grow so much has been my biggest joy and pride. I believe that you can light up this world and save so many people from themselves. But first make sure to save yourself, okay?! Love you ❤️

Clarifications - 9 of pentacles, The Lovers, Knight of cups, Judgment, King of cups, 6 of cups

You must prioritize yourself by choosing to give yourself the love you so willingly give to others. That much is clear. When the time is right and balance is restored, a soulmate will be sent to you to pour more love into your cup. They will come to you slowly but surely. You will recognize them by their piercing gaze and their powerful voice. You know them already. Wow that was very specific. There are a lot of water related cards, three of which can be associated with Scorpio. Then there is also Gemini energy and Taurus energy. I believe that in their living time the artist you asked about was a very generous and wise person. They were probably an old soul and had a hard time finding people they could deeply connect with. I get the feeling that you followed this person since you were a child and you looked up to them. They are a soulmate of yours. Their energy feels very balanced. I believe this person was very spiritual and always did their best to do the right choice and be the bigger person. They would always think of their loved ones before anything else and maybe that is one thing that caused this person a lot of sadness. Which is why they urge you to prioritize yourself. They know too well the cost of overgiving to others only to be left with so little.

🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️🕊️

Group 3

Letters : C N L C Z E K U V O T B E A V M Words : clean, zen, luck, black, block me, metal, zone, cat, melon, love u, meat, meet u at ten, note, bone, tune, name, bake, cake, Ameba, volcano, Kubo, Kobe,

Tissue box messages : Gym rat, bookworm, unconventional, Leo I SHINE Aug 10 to Sept 16, Taurus I PROTECT May 13 to June 21, Sagittarius I KNOW Dec 17 to Jan 20

Their message :

Dear friend,

I am so glad the universe has sent me to you. I am so proud of you for fighting for your dreams and doing your best every day to be a better person. You have no idea how much this means to me that you are working so hard to walk in my footsteps. My soul is filled with warmth because of you. Thank you so much.❤️ I love you too!

Clarifications - 6 of cups, 6 of swords, King of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, Queen of pentacles, High priestess

This artist is a soulmate of yours. They had to leave for you to thrive. It was part of their journey to pass on to the other side for you to grow and for them to guide you. It was necessary because their departure triggered an awakening in you. Your gifts wouldn’t have woken up the way they are now otherwise. It was their duty to contribute to your accession to your throne. By that I mean that in order to claim your power and rise up to their level, they had to eclipse themselves and now evolve in the « dark » or in other words on the other side of the curtain. You and this artist mirror each other, especially when it comes to your careers. I would even go as far as to say that for some of you they are a divine counterpart. You are the High priestess. And I saw behind her the Magician. They were the spark and you are the torch that will pass on the knowledge. They’ve taught you everything they had to while they were living. Now is your turn to do the same. You can connect with this person through hard work but also by working on your gifts, especially your intuition. When they were living, they were very intuitive too. They were known as a hard worker and a force to be reckoned with. They inspired people to leave behind what didn’t serve them. And they are now trying to help you do the same thing they did : be a mentor and a guide for others, especially younger souls.

[skelly-words]

hiii , if i can ask for like mammon and mc sitting in his room and he tried to "do it" with her a lot of times but she just stop him , one day he get a little mad so asked for asmo help , so asmo asked mc what was the reason and she told him that she feel insecure abt her body , he conferm her، and when asmo tell mammon abt it he go to her and make her love her body on his way

thanks if u accept it and if not have a good day<333333

(NSFW Mammon x Reader)

18+ no minors allowed!

Hiiiii anon, thanks for the ask. hope this is what you were looking for. This was proofread by Grammarly and that's it so I apologize in advance for mistakes.

No use of Y/N. There are no pronouns used (I think) but the reader is pretty feminine (wears a skirt, pretty girl is used once or twice, has a pussy.)

Tags: serviceswitch!mammon o7, very vanilla, light fluff, praise, cunnilingus, cumming untouched, very light angst, hair pulling, language, spit kink? lemme know if I missed anything

Synopsis: see ask above. Mammon eats you out.

Wc: 3.7k

You and Asmo love to gossip. Every week or so you get together, shopping and pampering yourselves and spilling every detail of your personal lives. You're ending the relaxing afternoon with bottomless mimosas at Hell’s Kitchen’s Sunday brunch, talking way too loudly about everybody’s business. It’s so easy to forget about the world and vent when the waiter fills up your champagne glass and Asmo smiles so encouragingly at every word you say. Though, today it seems like Asmodeus has an agenda. He keeps steering the conversation towards you and Mammon’s budding relationship, which is exactly the topic you want to avoid. 

“At least tell me if he's a decent lay” Asmo whines. “If not I have a 50-slide presentation I can send you to give him a crash course in pussy.”

“That sounds more like a master’s program. Besides, I wouldn't know.” You mumble the last part around the rim of the champagne glass as you down the drink, and Asmo signals at a waitress to bring you a refill. 

“What?” Asmo really tries to sell his shock here. He feels bad lying to you, but it's not often he has Mammon begging for a favor. “No way, are you losing interest?”

You shake your head quickly. “No.”

“Are you a virgin? Is it too much pressure?” With every question he scoots a little closer to you in the booth, so you only need to whisper an answer. 

“Nothing like that. I've been with a couple of people before, and Mammon is really sweet. He barely even mentions sex at all anymore. I think he might even be scared to kiss me. I'm more worried about him losing interest if I don't put out.”

“You don't have to worry about that. He's insane about you.” Asmo scoffs. “Like he-should-be-institutionalized insane.”

You laugh at Asmo and shove his arm off of where it loops over your shoulder. 

“No, I'm serious,” he continues. “I want to sedate him before even mentioning you. I think he'd rename important landmarks after you if he could. Whenever his mouth opens, there's a 96% chance he's gonna bring you up. You get it?”

“Thanks, I get it,” you murmur softly. Tears threaten to fall as your vision blurs a little and you blame the four mimosas and the fifth one the waitress sets in front of you. “Now I feel guilty. He's too sweet for me.”

“No, hun. That's not what I meant.” Asmo pulls you into a hug. A real one that he doesn't let you shrug off. “What I'm saying is that you can talk to him about whatever you want and I'm sure he’ll understand or at least help you work through it.”

His hug is warm and soothing, arms holding you close and tight without feeling suffocating. 

“You're the best, Asmo,” The words are a little slurred and shaky, but it’s easy to get emotional when you’re buzzed and Asmo is being so sweet. “I don’t know. It has nothing to do with Mammon. It’s just, I’ve never had great self-esteem, so physical intimacy can be a little hard. I mean, there's plenty of things for me to be insecure about, and I'm aware of every single one of them, so when I see how pretty and perfect Mammon is-”

“Gross.” He cuts you off at the perfect time, right before your sappy rambling. He makes a retching sound and reaches for his drink to wash away that sourness. 

You glare up at him. “That's my boyfriend you're gagging at, asshole.”

“Yeah. You sure know how to pick ‘em.” His nose scrunches up, and you're half-sure it’s involuntary. 

“Yeah.” You sigh dreamily and continue. “I just don't know how to bring a mood-killer like that up.”

“Want me to tell him for you?”

You think about it for a moment. “I feel like I should stop being a little bitch and just rip off the band-aid.”

“Okay, you could, but you haven't.”

“I think talking it out with you will make it easier though. I'm gonna talk to him as soon as we get home.”

“Promise? Cause I'm sick of him bitching about how you don't love him anymore.”

You smile and nod and pretend the confidence is from more than the alcohol. “I promise.”

***

Mammon’s been waiting for Asmo to text him all day, nervously pacing or playing with random things in his room to occupy the time. He’s flipping through an old copy of a magazine he modeled for when his phone buzzes with Asmo’s custom ringtone, quickly followed by yours. He snatches the phone off the bed and flops down between the pillows. He reads the text from Asmo first.

Asmo: So so, sorry, but I can’t spill ): We’ll be home in like 20 minutes

“Ugh.” Mammon glares at the ceiling. He was sure Asmo would come through. Especially after loaning you two Lucifer’s stolen his credit card for the day out. 

Mammon opened your messages next.

<3: We’ll be back in a little bit.

<3: If you’re not busy, let’s hang out. Love ya

Mammon: I’m never too busy for you, chillin' in my room

<3: Good answer

The next twenty minutes are spent trying to figure out how to dress. Mammon tries to master the look of lazily lounging around the house without looking suspiciously slutty. The final decision was a black wife beater and basketball shorts. He even experimentally smudges his eyeliner to make it look a little slept-in. He carefully uses the remaining time to switch out accessories and pose around his room in an attempt to see “where he looks the hottest.” In the end, his efforts are futile and he doesn’t notice you come in, too busy changing out his earrings.

“Hey.” You tap him on the shoulder, hesitantly, not wanting to scare him. 

“Oh, hey, hi.” He turns around, lips pressed into a smile that looks a little too tight for his face. “So how was your day with, um, Asmo?”

“Nice.” Now that the mimosas had worn off and Asmodeus wasn’t around to keep you confident, the impending conversation was starting to make you nervous. 

“Just nice?” Mammon asked with a tilt of his head. “What can I do to make your day better, babe?” He gently cups your face, becoming acutely aware of the sweat on his palms, and the breakfast on his breath when he kisses you.

You kick yourself for how quickly you break the kiss to murmur against his lips, “I’ve been lying to you. Well, only by omission, but still. Can we talk?”

Your hands hold each other to stay steady. Realistically, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You’ve blown this whole thing out of proportion, but it’s not like insecurities follow basic logic. 

“Yea, ‘f course.” His hands trail down your sides. 

You don’t notice the sweat, more the warmth as he thumbs over each of your ribs.

“Just talk to me, angel.”

And you hate that it sounds like he’s begging. Like he wants you to dump your baggage on him. Especially, when it should be so easy for you to just get over it on your own.

“I don't think I'm hot enough for you.” It comes out messy and unarticulated.

“What? That’s ins-”

You don’t let him finish, cutting his rebuttal off with the more rehearsed version of what you said. “I mean, whenever I go to see you at your photoshoots, you look so good with those other models. You're surrounded by all these perfect men and women who you'd look great with, so great that it's literally on the cover of a magazine, and I can't compete with that. And it's not like this hasn't happened before. I've never been the first choice, just someone to settle for or a rebound, y’know?”

“Not really.” He scratches the back of his neck, realizing how clammy his hands have become and how uninspiring that answer is. “But, well, that's because I've never felt that way about you. There’s no need to compete with anybody, baby. You're everything to me. I don't even notice other people when you're around or when I'm thinking about you, which is always. And I can't make up for shitty past relationships, but I hope you know I'm better than that.”

“Thank you, and I wanted to apologize. That’s why I’ve been avoiding being physical with you, but that seems kinda dumb now. So, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. And I'm a little insulted that you'd compare me to your past partners. I'm The Great Mammon, not some idiot human boy with no brain. I can't even comprehend why you'd jump to that. I'm appalled, disgusted even, livi-”

You cut him off with a kiss. Smiling into the lines of his lips as he struggles to keep up. 

He breaks the kiss to keep talking. “And I'm not just saying all this ‘cause I wanna have sex with you. Not that I don't want to do that. I just don't want you thinki-”

“Shut the fuck up, Mammon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His hands find your waist again to pull you towards him. 

The way you kiss is slow and natural. A welcome change to the stiff distance you’d previously been putting between your bodies. His hands wander and guide you closer. It takes a moment for you to reciprocate, too distracted by the simple comfort of his touch.

You rest your arms on his shoulders, lazily lifting a hand to play with the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. As your fingers tangle higher up on his head, you tug gently to pull him away. It’s nice just to look into his eyes for a second. The dark blue near the center of his iris almost blends with his blown pupils. You find it impossible to pick a favorite shade of blue when his kaleidoscope gaze stares so intensely back at you. 

“It’s you who’s too pretty for me.” Mammon doesn’t even try to kiss you, just looking at you, flicking his eyes up and down your face. His thumbs barely dip under your shirt and skim the skin of your stomach, memorizing it in the pads of his fingers. 

“Stop it.” You take a small, nearly involuntary, step backward. 

He follows you, pushes you until the back of your knees hits the edge of the bed. 

“No. You gonna let me see all of your pretty self?” He asks. “Take it off.”

Mammon gently stretches the fabric of your shirt away from your body, waiting patiently for you to comply. 

You nod. Your eyes slip shut as you peel the top off, and you don’t bother opening them to see his reaction. You just wait for him to say something, to touch you, or to give you any indication of disgust and rejection.

He holds you gently by the side of your neck, lifting your chin with the pads of his thumbs.

“Can you look at me, sunshine?” 

It takes a moment for you to make eye contact with him. You’re not expecting him to be disgusted or reject you, but that doesn’t stop you from being nervous or unsure. He smiles when you finally meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything right now. It’s your call, always, okay?”

“Okay, but I do want you right now. ‘M just a little nervous.” Your hands need something to do, so they go back to threading through his hair. You thank Jesus that Mammon takes that as a cue to kiss. His hands smooth down to your shoulders, never breaking away from your skin. 

The kiss is too long and too deep, not parting until you’re roughly panting into each other’s mouths. You sit on the bed and Mammon pushes you down onto the mattress, waiting for you to tell him to stop.

“Don't just stare, weirdo.”

He chuckles, and you can feel it on your face.

“Sorry. I just can’t believe you’re real, and really with me.” His admission comes with a blush smeared across his face. It’s hard for him to continue the eye contact after that. Mammon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he laughs again. “You’re just here, and I love you so much.”

Your fingers are less rough in his hair, gentle and soothing. His arms dip behind your back to hug you, keeping your bodies pressed together for a minute or five. Until he’s sure you’re not leaving. When he finally moves, it’s to unhook and remove your bra, but then he’s back to hugging you again. This time, kissing between your breasts, he doesn’t know why you’d ever keep this from him. His hands don't stay in one place for long, wanting to feel every inch of the body that you've been hiding. 

“You know what pisses me off the most?” Mammon lifts his head to look up at you. Saliva coats his mouth, your skin, and connects the two with lust and heat. 

You don't answer, half-scared he's changed his mind. 

“I hate knowing that someone else has seen you like this before me. I wish I was your first everything.” His mouth is smothering yours again like he wants the feeling of his lips to stay there even after you’ve parted. From your mouth, he drags light kisses down your jaw and to your neck. He keeps you so close that, even though he can't see it, he can feel the flush coming off of you. 

“You won't hide from me anymore, right?” His kisses begin at the junction of your shoulder but quickly drop lower, down your chest, tummy, thighs, winding a clear path down your torso.

“Hey.” Mammon stops and the fuzziness dissolves. Your attention easily snaps back to him, where he kneels on the floor, hair sticking out where you’d tugged it out of place. “When I ask you questions, fucking answer me.”

You swallow thickly and nod, unsure of what would come out if you opened your mouth. 

“Words, babe. You won’t hide from me anymore?” Though it’s a statement, he’s still asking. The skin of your thighs is worried between his teeth as he waits for an answer. 

“I wo-” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply when his teeth dig in too hard. He soothes that spot with his tongue, making you moan into the back of your hand. 

“Close enough,” he murmurs.

He inches the hem of your skirt up as his lips climb back up your skin. 

You scoot up the bed when his mouth lands on the crotch of your panties next. He chases you, following and following until your back is pressed against the headboard.

“Quit that.” Mammon yanks your knees apart. His broad shoulders stop your legs from snapping back shut. “Where’re you going?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I mean- don’t you wanna fuck?”

He nods into the crease of your thigh, nosing the lace trim of your panties. “But not yet, treasure. I’ve been missing meals, gonna make up for lost time. Can I taste your pretty pussy, please?”

“Yeah,” and it comes out like a breath. You slip your panties off. Mammon never lets you close your legs, so you have to frustratingly take one leg out at a time. 

He grabs the garment, dangling the blue panties in front of your face.

“Can I keep these?”

You snort. “Pervert.”

“So?”

“Yeah, you can have them.”

Mammon neatly folds the dirty underwear and roughly stuffs them into the pocket of his shorts.

“You’ll get them back when I’m done.” He’s not looking at you when he says that, eyes dropping lower to where your legs are spread as he pushes your skirt up around your waist. You feel warm like it’s too much for him to look at you.

“Gross,” but it comes out weak. You’ve shrunk back into the pillows, barely breathing between your fingers, mouth gone dry.

“Uhuh.” Mammon nods, dragging his nose down the trimmed hair above your slit. The hands on your thighs slide inward, keeping your legs spread and pinned against his pillows. His bottom lip brushes your clit as his mouth drops lower. He completely skips over the nub, licking at the slick pooling beneath it. “You get this wet for everyone?”

You can’t speak, covering your mouth with your palm to bar any sounds from escaping. His head tilts, looking both amused and curious as he waits for an answer.

“No,” you mumble.

“Yeah, well good.” Mammon’s mouth quirks up into a smug grin as he readjusts himself to lay more comfortably on the bed. He lies flat on his stomach, lazily kicking his legs back and forth as he kisses around your clit. He knows exactly where it is, but teases on purpose until he can feel your hips straining beneath his hands. 

Mammon’s palms keep you pressed down so easily that you don’t notice how desperate you are beneath him. Not until he lets you go. The reaction of your body is involuntary, a few rough rolls of your hips before you can keep yourself still. Your groans are stifled by your palm, you can feel the hot breath and saliva collecting behind your hand. 

“Wait?” He sounds disappointed. “Don't stop.” 

Mammon’s hands catch beneath your thighs, sloppily simulating the roll of your hips against his face. The movements of his mouth are less coordinated, too preoccupied with the strain on his forearms. Your juices smear messily on his chin as he works you open, pushing more and more of his tongue into you.

Spit collects in your mouth. You can’t keep from moaning into your palm, and all that sweat and drool runs from the corners of your mouth to collect on your chin. His mouth is warm, and the flick of his tongue deep inside you makes you match the pace he’s already set. 

Mammon grunts against your cunt. You can feel it more than hear it. The sound is low, deep in his chest, and drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. The edge of your orgasm builds with the soft vibrations of his lips. Your hesitant grind is pushed quicker by the need to get off. Every glance down at your spit-covered pussy has you bucking upward with a muffled gasp. 

Mammon is lazy, leaving you to chase your high as he looks up at you, enamored by how you still try so hard to cover the sounds spilling from your mouth. He’d say something about it if his mouth wasn’t so busy. It’s not until you dare to stop staring at him that he speaks up.

“C’mon.” Mammon lands a sloppy kiss on your clit. “What? Now you’re too good to even look at me, pretty girl?” He manages to sound so fucking pathetic and upset that you look back down at him. He grins back at you, pleased with his performance. Small kisses work up from your sopping hole to swollen bud. He flicks his tongue, teasing and testing before fully sucking on it. 

“Shit.” This is the first sound you let through your fingers, followed by a shaky moan as you try to control your breath. You can’t help but pant, stuttering, and heavy between the gaps in your fingers. 

“I know,” Mammon keeps his words short, barely parting from your skin to speak.

Though he tries to hide it, you can’t help but notice how he pushes his hips into the comforter, grinding his dick against the mattress through however many layers of fabric. You almost feel bad for him, but then he moans against you like he’s the one getting head. 

The hand you’d been using to keep yourself muffled reached between your legs to tangle in Mammon’s hair. The palm is still tacky from spit, sticking to make you tug rougher on the strands than you mean to. 

“M-more. Just a little bit more.” The words stumble out of your mouth like you don't know what you’re saying. Whatever will make him push his tongue a little deeper. “Pretty please.”

“Mhmm,” Mammon moans an affirmative into your pussy. He can feel your clit throb against his nose. Each second that passes brings you closer to climaxing. 

You’re stuffed full of his tongue, rubbing your clit on the bump of his nose. He’s barely done anything himself except taking it and whining. The rhythmic rutting of his hips starts working the comforter up the bed, gathering it beneath him to fuck into. He’s not even looking at you straight anymore, eyes focusing or crossing dazedly. 

You tighten your hand in his hair by pure instinct as you writhe beneath him.

“I think I’m gonna-” You’re not given a chance to finish before the twist in your stomach spills over. “O-oh, Mammon. Fuck, I’m-”

The last of your words are drowned out by his own needy moans. His hips hump the comforter bunched beneath him.

“Fuck, I love you.” His tongue licks a long stripe up your cunt.

“I’m still sensitive.” You shudder, and the hand in his hair falls to grip your skirt.

“Gotta clean up my mess,” he mumbles. He laps the saliva and cum from your skin, eventually just leaving wet kisses up the crease of your thigh. 

Mammon’s sweaty and flushed, still grinding into the blankets. His eyes flick shut and he lays his head flat on your lower stomach. His breaths are quick, warming your skin. 

A hand slips from underneath you to overlap yours. He pulls it back to his hair. “Pull it again.”

You want to be gentle, running a hand through the white strands. Mammon doesn’t care for your afterglow tenderness and slaps the side of your leg.

“Please, baby. I wanna cum.” Mammon kisses your stomach, low below your navel.

You can’t help but laugh at him. It’s too pathetic when accompanied by the frantic rolls of his hips. You can feel the skin beneath his head get sticky from the sweat and drool he smears onto you. He looks and sounds more fucked out than you just from using his mouth on you.  His thrusts stutter when you twist cruelly on his hair. 

“Yes, yes, like that.” He lets out a string of swears as he spills into his sweatpants. His labored breathing crests and slows, and you can feel when they finally grow even. “Thank you, treasure.”

Mammon doesn’t move from where he is, still comfortably tucked between your legs as he comes down from his high. It’s not until he’s been suspiciously quiet for too long that you realize he’s asleep.

[deesseshesca]

PAC : Why are u the best ? (10 reasons)

Y'all are my favs...

Good evening pretty souls, let me dive into your energy and bring the best of it out.

SALE 

Until October 31 all readings on my ko-fi is 30$, only

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION.

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else. 

PILE 1. 

Even when life feels repetitive or unexciting, you have a unique ability to see potential in every moment. Instead of feeling bored, you use this time to reflect, recharge, and come up with new ideas.

Conflict just isn’t your style. You thrive on harmony and always manage to bring people together, diffusing tension and making sure everyone feels heard and respected.

 Where others may feel dissatisfied, you find hidden opportunities. You see beyond the obvious, turning situations that might seem stagnant into valuable moments of growth and reflection.

 You effortlessly navigate through competitive or chaotic situations, preferring to focus on collaboration rather than competition. You inspire others to work together, not against each other.

 Even in moments where others might feel unfulfilled, your optimistic outlook helps you find joy in simplicity. This ability to appreciate what you have sets you apart as someone who truly understands life’s deeper values.

You steer clear of unnecessary conflict. Instead of engaging in arguments, you stay calm, centered, and focused on what truly matters, avoiding drama and negativity.

Even when life doesn’t give you everything you want, you are still grateful for what you have. This mindset allows you to maintain a positive outlook and inspire others to appreciate the beauty in every situation.

 You solve problems in ways that bring people together. Your natural optimism helps you see solutions that others miss, and you always strive for peace, finding compromises that make everyone happy.

Your energy lifts those around you. When people feel stuck or negative, your optimistic nature reminds them that better days are always ahead. You have a talent for helping others see the bright side.

 No matter how chaotic things may get, you stay centered and calm. You don’t get pulled into unnecessary conflicts, and your peaceful energy helps keep everyone else grounded as well.

💌: Do you wanna to discover 10 other reasons why you are sooo good in bed + moodboard, also you are the only pile where your current/future partner came through, so there's also 10 other reason as for why they love u sexually all on my ko-fi.

PILE 2.

* You’ve faced deep emotional wounds and heartbreak, yet you rise stronger each time. Your ability to turn suffering into growth shows just how powerful and resilient you are.

* After healing yourself, you instinctively help others. Your journey through emotional turmoil has equipped you to guide others through their own struggles, making you a beacon of light for those in need.

*  You embrace your vulnerability, knowing it makes you stronger. This openness creates deep, meaningful connections with those around you, elevating everyone you come into contact with.

*You don’t shy away from difficult conversations. Your emotional intelligence allows you to speak your truth with grace, offering clarity and comfort to others in a way that few can.

* Even when you struggle to fully trust your intuition, you’re constantly learning about yourself. You know your flaws and strengths deeply, which makes you one of the most self-aware people.

* Despite the pain life throws at you, you keep fighting. Your heart may have been pierced, but your spirit remains unbroken. This inner strength radiates in everything you do.

* Even when things seem unclear or you’re second-guessing yourself, your emotional intelligence helps you see through confusion. You know how to sift through the noise and find the truth within.

* You’ve mastered the art of balancing your emotions. You know when to hold on, when to let go, and how to approach situations with both empathy and rationality, making you a stabilizing force for others.

* Even when your intuition feels blocked, you still find a way to navigate through challenges. Your ability to persevere through uncertainty is a testament to your inner wisdom and strength.

* You are unapologetically yourself, even in moments of doubt or confusion. 

💌: Do you want to discover 10 reasons why you are so good in bed ? + Moodboard.

PILE 3. 

You have a vast array of dreams and aspirations, and unlike others who might hesitate, you boldly go after them. Your imagination is boundless, and you’re never afraid to chase what you truly want.

While others might be stuck waiting for the right moment, you seize the day. You don’t let life pass you by, and instead of overthinking, you take immediate action toward your goals.

 Where others see limitations, you see opportunities. You live with an open mind, always aware that the world is full of limitless choices, and this makes you incredibly resourceful and creative.

 You refuse to be stuck or trapped in situations that don’t serve you. Your ability to recognize when it’s time to move on makes you a forward-thinking, dynamic individual.

You possess the ability to dream big, seeing things that others wouldn’t even imagine. This visionary energy sets you apart as someone destined to create and manifest things far beyond the ordinary.

While others may get stuck in indecision, you are decisive. Even in the face of many options, you know how to make swift choices, refusing to let overthinking slow you down.

While many people get lost in their dreams, you know how to bring them into reality. Your combination of creativity and action makes you a master of manifesting what you desire.

Even when challenges arise, you find a way to move forward. Your ability to quickly adapt and make changes ensures that no obstacle holds you back for long.

Your imagination knows no bounds. This not only fuels your dreams but also makes you incredibly innovative, constantly coming up with fresh ideas and perspectives that others find inspiring.

 While others may wait for the perfect moment, you create it. Your proactive approach to life ensures that you’re always ahead of the curve, moving forward when others remain stuck.

💌: Do you want to discover 10 reasons why you are so good in bed ? + Moodboard.

[gyutarling]

INFINITE

late night adventures with beomgyu...

♯ — beomgyu x gn!reader ⋆ fluff ⋆ wc 1.7k

warnings! — cursing, mentions of burning things, mentions of ghosts and death, catcher in the rye slander (not srs if u like that book thats cool!), a little pretentious, jokes about dating a senior citizen, lowercase intended, not proofread

note — went ballistic after gyu made an insta..... save me manic pixie dream boy..... save me....

“gyu, where are we even going?” you enquired. frankly, you were still a little grumpy from being woken up at 3 in the morning, with beomgyu outside your window holding your shoes, wordlessly telling you to follow him.

when no reply came after several pauses, you glanced over next to you, only to find him completely zoned out. you were about to open your mouth to snap at him, patience spreading thin from the sleepiness, but then he smiled.

“the library, we’re sneaking in.” he turned his eyes back to the road ahead after making eye contact with you, mischief still heavy on his cheeks.

what he said took you a few seconds longer to process. “oh, okay— wait. what?!” in your befuddled state, you stopped in your tracks, “what do you mean by ‘sneaking in’? why the library?” honestly, you were more surprised that you didn't have more questions, but then again, this is beomgyu, you wouldn't put something like this past him.

beomgyu casually fixed his bangs, “sneaking in as in, we’re gonna not-so-legally enter the library like, right now.” he stopped in front of said building, you didn’t even notice you had been walking for so long. “and the library because there's a book i wanna burn.”

you almost shouted out a question, if not for beomgyu placing his hand over your mouth when he saw you staring at him with wide eyes. “hush! we might get caught!” his hand dropped after he felt your tongue touching his palm, “gross! anyway, do you have a paperclip i can borrow? kinda need to pick this lock before we do the actual ‘sneaking in’ part.” he held out his hand as he inspected the lock.

“what the fuck? are you insane?!” you opted for whisper shouting instead. you take it back, just when you thought he couldn't get any crazier, he proves you wrong with his stupidly perfect smile that seems to grow wider with each late night adventure. “first of all, why did i have to come with? could you not have done this yourself? i don’t wanna get in trouble again.” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“this is a two-person operation! besides, it’s more fun this way. so sorry in advance if i do get us into trouble,” beomgyu whispered back, and by the dimple peeking out from his smirk, you can tell he didn’t mean his apology.

you let out a relenting sigh and handed him a paperclip, “okay, but second of all, what book got you so enraged that you just had to sneak into the town library at such an ungodly hour just to steal and burn it?”

“it’s not like it enraged me, i mean, books are supposed to make you feel intense things, so i would have liked it if it did enrage me,” beomgyu mindlessly spoke while fidgeting with the paperclip, “it’s ‘the catcher in the rye’, borrowed and finished it recently, and i don’t know, the main character is just such a whiny ass bitch boy. he’s got this whole self-loathing, self-aware hypocrite persona going on, and throughout the book he pretty much just talks and drinks and pities himself. i think the author tried to make him too relatable, to the point that he became unrealistic, if that makes sense,” he rambled on, “the only part i liked was near the end, the part with his sister was actually pretty well-written.”

“so you are enraged,” you couldn’t help but giggle at his mini rant, “you’re cute when you ramble, by the way.”

“hm, i’d say the word would be ‘unimpressed’, i just don’t like it.” he pretended to inspect the lock closer, yet still failing miserably at hiding his reddening cheeks. a few minutes after poking and moving the paperclip around inside the keyhole, you heard a click, and seconds later, you two were inside the pitch dark library. “alright, we’re in. the rest should be fairly easy.”

“hold on, one more question,” you realised as you took out your phone for the flashlight, “why didn’t you just do this when you still had the book? why did you have to return it and then come back?” you were too far into the theft and arson two-person operation to be angry at beomgyu for dragging you into it at this point. you were happy to be hanging out with him anyway.

“hey, this might make me a criminal, but i’m not a heathen. i return my shit, never had an overdue book in my entire life,” beomgyu bragged, “mrs. librarian is basically my best friend.”

“and yet you don’t know her name?” you laughed at his antics.

“i believe in the magic of mystery,” he said in an exaggerated fancy accent, “besides, names and such formalities are for first dates, which i might score one soon, heard her husband’s been out a lot.”

“gross, dude! she’s like 78!” you couldn’t help but to playfully shove him.

“and yet she remains such a radiant beauty, her prune-like visuals never fail to amaze me!” beomgyu emphasised even more, and you both couldn’t help but let out loud laughs you weren’t supposed to.

“how romantic, even shakespeare wouldn’t have been able to be as eloquent as you. save it for her, though, i don’t wanna hear about how you’re into an old, saggy woman who’s pushing 80.”

as the laughter died down, you two decided to split up to look for the object of beomgyu’s hatred. you were a little unsettled by the dark, this was a library after all, a very fitting place for a victorian ghost to haunt.

just when you were about to let out a breathy laugh at your own absurd thoughts, you heard a creaking noise. you quickly turned off your phone’s flashlight, this was it, you always knew beomgyu would lead to your downfall by baiting you to some supernatural entity. he probably made a deal with the devil and offered up your soul. no, scratch that, beomgyu is the devil himself—

“boo!” you let out a squeak and fell backwards, startled as you saw beomgyu with his flashlight shining from below his face. you breathed heavily, trying to catch up with the shock as he let out silent cackles. beomgyu might be even more evil than the devil.

“oh man, you should’ve seen your face!” he spitted out between laughter, but that abruptly stopped when you two heard the jingle of keys. you looked at beomgyu, panic still in your eyes, but for a different reason this time. you were still on the ground when he helped you up and dragged you to a corner, sandwiched between two bookshelves as he covered your mouth.

you didn’t know if you were dizzy from being out of breath, or the distance (or the lack thereof) between you and beomgyu. one hand covering your mouth, one hand on your waist to keep you steady, his equally fast breaths on your cheek. if you weren’t insane enough already, he gave you a reassuring squeeze, and leaned his forehead on yours from exhaustion. you wanted to stay like this forever.

of course, your dazed moment was interrupted by the lights of the library turning on, and then came the sound of approaching footsteps. your anxiety returned, and beomgyu glanced to the side just to quickly turn back.

“change of plans. fuck the book, we’re booking it.” he smiled. honestly, how can he have time for word play in such a predicament?

“what—” at that, he grabbed your hand and bolted out from between the shelves. you could hear the shouting of someone, presumably the security guard, but the buzzing adrenaline was louder. beomgyu hurriedly bursted through the doors that you both came in from, with your hands still connected, then down the streets. your legs burned, but at that point, you two were laughing like crazy. in the small, empty neighbourhood, well into the night, you swore you could take on anything if you had beomgyu by your side.

slowing down, he continued to hold onto your hand as you came to a stop. inhaling and exhaling rapidly, the rush died down and you noticed the delicate snowflakes that nipped at your skin. beomgyu seemed to notice as well, he stood up straight and stared upwards, mesmerised by the fluttering whiteness.

“it’s the first snow,” he mumbled, “you know, they say that seeing the first snow together with someone means you’ll be with them forever, and any wishes you make will come true.” he looked back at you, and you found yourself admiring his twinkling eyes.

“that’s pretty,” you smiled at him, “did you wish for anything?”

“yeah, i wished that you were mrs. librarian instead— hey, ow! i’m kidding!” beomgyu dramatically rubbed his arm after you very lightly and playfully punched him.

“moment ruined.” you said, unimpressed as beomgyu giggled.

a comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you continued watching the snow, it’s light enough to not be too cold, but cold enough for beomgyu to pull you closer to him, close enough for the moment to feel real.

“sorry you didn’t get to take out your burning anger on the book.” you slightly chuckled as you remembered the events of the night.

“it’s alright, didn’t matter too much to me,” he shrugged, “i didn’t even hate the book that much, just wanted an excuse to drag you out with me.”

you looked at him, stupefied, “so you couldn’t just ask me to hang out during the day like a normal person? what if that security guard was secretly a victorian ghost protecting the library? and what if said ghost happened to die from a thief who burned their house down?” you started exaggerating to show that you weren’t actually mad at him.

beomgyu jokingly scoffed at your silly rambling, “normal is boring, and from your whole spiel just now, you’re clearly not normal either, weirdo.” at that, you both smiled at each other.

beomgyu is truly beautiful, but especially when he smiles. the way his nose scrunches, pinkish from the cold, eyes turning into crescents with tiny sparkles in them. the way his lips curl up, matching the wispy ends of his soft-looking hair, framing his face perfectly. his smile is truly perfect.

in that moment, all you could feel was beomgyu and the world, both infinitely yours.

PERMANENT TAGLIST (italics = can't tag!) @malswrldsworld (send an ask to be added!)

[ohsunnyboy]

a spark of light | han yujin ˚₊‧⁺˖

while han yujin isn't the greatest at maths, he is good at keeping your mind off it... that and being an annoyance.

TAGS: pining!!!!, bestfriends! yujin and gn!reader, highschool!au, some academic pressure, gaming, fluff, cuddles and general overwatch terms, lil bit of denial :>

A/N: i don't wanna do maths and yujin would support me in that. self-indulgent to deal w maths hell (i am bri'ish so math is maths)

WORDS: ~650

Inverse sin goes to one over root one minus... differentiate the brackets... sub in... simplify...

There's nothing soothing about maths. Not when you've been flipping back and forth between your formula sheet, always on the verge of doing something but never being quite too sure. It's bad habit to chew your lips red raw every time you try and it gets on Yujin’s nerves but hey, this isn't about him.

"It's not due until Friday you know," Han Yujin, serial procrastinator, says. "You can put the pen down."

"Just need to finish this one," you whine. It shouldn't be that bad: just an inverse tan question but you can't figure out if or how you'd simplify it down. What to do... what to do...

Fwick!

"Yujin!" His head flick and the sound of his laugh makes the weight in your head almost quadruple. You rest your head on the folded table on your lap, only vaguely aware of the characters running about on Yujin's screen.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing is working right in your head right now. You don't think it's the lack of sleep, not with the Red Bull still sitting on the table; it might be your head, spinning with x's and u's and y's. Though, it wouldn't take Einstein to figure out what you really need is anything but maths right now...

It's not much longer before you hear a sigh, and "Defeat" come from the TV. Oh well, it's what he gets for being annoying at least.

There’s a shift on the bed as you feel yourself roll a little more next to Yujin. Before you know it, he’s dragging you from under the armpits and into his side. You’re too tired to care much, even if Yujin kicks your homework off the bed.

"What?" you whine into Yujin’s shoulder. He smells like the cheap aftershave you bought him for his birthday last year after all he stunk of was his dance practices. “You want to help a poor soul?"

"No, you just think too hard,” he quips, voice a little terse as his Zenyatta gets charged off the map. "It's distracting me." You need to stifle a small smile when he comes back to charge attack the offending Reinhardt to death.

The silence you settle into is comfortable. Another round later, Yujin slips you your claimed plush (a really adorable rabbit plush that you both named Ollie) under your arm, letting you watch and let your mind empty out. Time ticks by, and soon your headache and maths become a distant problem.

“I always think too much,” you say with mirth. The bar at the top of the screen runs into overtime, Yujin’s Zenyatta and a D.va somehow fending off the entire opposing team as he zones off from you. You don’t think he hears you, not with the adrenaline in his ears as "Victory" flashes across the screen.

However, he replies with a toothy grin. "Good, because I need you to think for me." The idiot says it like a good thing. But he looks in your eyes with a spark of light them. Like lightning crackling across a dark sky. "Want to play the next match with me, yeah?"

You always think too much, and do too little. Can you really deny him this? "Fine."

"You love me,” he teases. It’s pressed into your ear and slides like a secret sticky note straight into your heart.

"Totally." You try to roll your eyes but he’s already off the bed in search of your laptop somewhere in the pile of your messes. Careful to put your forgotten homework back onto the table with the empty Red Bull cans.

It also doesn’t take Einstein to figure out what your heart is doing, and where your brain is taking you. Of all the times for your head to work, is right now really worth it?

You don't know what you'd do without Yujin. But you'd rather keel over than admit the solution to all your problems was him all along.

a good lil comfort fic was what i've been needing so here we are :) a like and reblog would be appreciated if you enjoyed! ⭒ masterlist

[saintsenara]

Wait why are you not a fan of Snape and Hermione?? 2 nerds who care a socially awkward amount about the things they care about nerding out together at levels of romance people who can be chill and normal about things can’t comprehend?? It’s not one of my fav ships but I can definitely see it!

I headcanon that Snape picks on Hermione being a muggle raised know it all thirsty to prove and lacking self awareness because he was one himself when he arrived at school and James and Sirius picked on him for it! It’s like that you’re most repulsed by the things you’re self conscious of in yourself thing to me. Or maybe a him trying to live out being the “cool” one in that dynamic thing

But when she’s a grown woman and more self possessed like he became too I feel like that same energy ness has potential for love!

Hermione is famously respectful and compassionate enough towards all beings to be more understanding than say Lily Evans of his prickly tender ego if he had another m word style outburst and such a people pleaser she’d keep coming back for more snark as long as he peppered it with the odd encouraging compliment

And I feel like a Snape in reciprocated love could absolutely veer into inventing beautiful and helpful spells to impress his lover or sending “made me think of u 😘” notes with verses of elaborate obscure poetry territory that would be frankly the level of literary and academic courtship our Herms deserves 😌

Is it cause they’d both be the highly strung worrier one and they both need someone to ground them? Or maybe too pessimistic together and one of them needs to be the cheerful one?

anon, i genuinely love this for you - i'm always thrilled to get people explaining their love for ships in the ol' inbox, especially when they're ships i don't instinctively vibe with, and i have been won round to stranger premises than this by a passionate defence of why two characters should kiss.

where i still think snamione isn't clicking for me, however, is that the way you describe both snape and hermione here doesn't align in any significant way with what i personally think would be interesting to explore about either character in a relationship and have them still feel meaningfully like their canon selves.

[i will say, though - because i always think it's worth reiterating my fandom commitment towards being neither a cop nor a priest - that i literally don't give a shit about either the age gap or the student-teacher dynamic. i know that's an objection to pairings like snarry and snamione which lots of people do express. but i will never be one of them.]

the primary reason that i don't vibe with many of the more... sapiosexual hermione ships [by which i mean not only snamione but tomione] is that they hang on the idea that hermione's intellect expresses itself in a way we never actually see in canon.

or, the idea that snape and hermione are intellectually compatible [and that they would enjoy hanging out being nerdy about stuff] is just... not true.

throughout the seven-book canon, the way that hermione shows herself to be clever is that she displays an excellent memory and an enormous capacity to rote-learn. her intelligence is overwhelmingly demonstrated - both in the classroom and during the trio's year on the run - by her being able to regurgitate swathes of information, very usually verbatim from the source she got it from.

she is clearly able to use this ability to retain information to understand the theoretical component of magic in a way neither harry nor ron ever manage, and she is able to use this understanding of theory to work out how to perform spells which are ahead of her expected level on the hogwarts curriculum.

and this is intelligence - and i want to be very clear that i'm not trying to suggest that hermione shouldn't be thought of as intellectual, or that her academic achievements should be devalued. but it isn't the way snape's intelligence manifests itself.

because hermione is never shown - at any point in canon - to be a particularly creative or experimental thinker.

she places an enormous intellectual trust in disciplinary authority - teachers and textbooks - and is frequently rattled when these are revealed to be partial or incorrect, as we see in her shock at hogwarts: a history not mentioning house elves or her anger at harry getting better results by following the modified instructions in the prince's textbook [despite knowing nothing about the theory underpinning them] than she does with the "official" ones.

she also regards the gatekeeping of inquiry which disciplinary boundaries enforce to be a positive thing and she never displays any inclination to step beyond them. she dislikes the spells in the prince's textbook because they aren't ministry-approved - and i must say that i think the idea that she'd be won over by a man creating spells for her is wishful thinking...

she is immediately mistrustful of anything she can't find something she regards as an empirical source for - notice, for example, that she only comes round to the idea that prophecies might be real once she encounters them in the ministry of magic.

even when we see her using magic on her own terms - the jinx she uses on marietta edgecombe, for example; or the protean charm on the da coins - the magic she's using is sophisticated, and is being applied in a way which wouldn't be classroom-sanctioned, but it's not magic which is being used in a way which is removed from the spell's original purpose. the protean charm on the da coins is impressive because it's a flawless execution of newt-level magic by a sixteen-year-old. it's not impressive because hermione is using it in a strange, experimental, or radical way.

[in contrast, the dark mark - which harry notes the coins mimic - is clearly a spell voldemort himself invents.]

snape, on the other hand, is an experimenter. he's someone who clearly sees magic as a creative force which he has every right to shape as he sees fit by adaptation and invention. and he's someone who evidently rejects the logic of disciplinary gatekeeping - one tension in his relationship with dumbledore prior to half-blood prince is that snape evidently retains an enormous intellectual interest in the dark arts [which, as he tells us, are an area of magic which is feared precisely because they can't be neatly contained within disciplinary boxes - they are ever-changing, unfixed, mutating...]

and it's these conflicting views of what magic is and how it should be used and thought about which is the cause of the intellectual incompatibility we see between snape and hermione in canon.

he is unequivocally in the wrong for his dismissive classroom manner towards her - because he is an adult and she is a child. but he isn't wrong in principle that hermione just repeating what she's read in the textbook and refusing to synthesise her knowledge [she always goes massively over word limits! she never gives answers in class in her own words!] isn't actually a demonstration that she understands the material. [and therefore something a good teacher would guide her through conquering... snape having no interest in doing this is his own fault.]

and - from a snamione-specific perspective - it's all the evidence snape needs that, actually, they're not going to enjoy hanging out chatting about academic pursuits. hermione values knowledge like a dragon hoards treasure. snape wants to take that treasure, melt it down, and turn it into new and weird things.

once again, i don't think this a flaw in either of their characters - it's just something which is. and i don't think it's an insurmountable obstacle to writing snamione, because i believe any ship is possible if an author has enough nerve. but it's an aspect of both characters' canon personalities [and hermione's above all] which never seems to make it into snamione fics - all of which, as far as i've encountered them, are beholden to an idea of hermione's approach to academia which is considerably more flexible than we actually see in the books.

of your other points, i'm not particularly convinced by the idea that snape sees his younger self in the teenage hermione. this isn't just for the reasons outlined above - hermione isn't trying to prove herself in the same way he was, which was by creating and experimenting in a bid to be noticed and considered impressive - but also because of the massive gulf in their respective class backgrounds.

hermione is really posh - and, while she's obviously subjected to discrimination at hogwarts on account of her blood-status, she also comes from a family with both the financial resources and the cultural language to make her familiar with the vibe of the elite muggle boarding schools hogwarts is a pastiche of.

the teen snape - in contrast - stands out from his cohort in that he is visually identifiable as working-class [which does appear to be genuinely unusual at hogwarts]. his class background is something which clearly drove a lot of the marauders' bullying of him [i'm sorry to the girlies who think james and sirius targeted him out of some righteous desire to stamp out his prejudice - it was because he was poor and uncouth] and which he still has a chip on his shoulder about as an adult.

this - again - is not an insurmountable barrier to a snamione relationship [as it's not a barrier to thousands of real-world partnerships and friendships]. but it is something an author needs to grapple with if they want to make the pairing - at least, in my opinion - seem plausible. but the standard vibe seems to be that snape would be comfortable in the grangers' home fairly quickly, and that he'd be delighted to have hermione swanning around offering suggestions for how they could do up spinner's end... instead of him resenting this as the unwelcome meddling of people who've never had to worry for money.

i'm also not particularly convinced by the idea that hermione would get over being called a mudblood - especially by an adult man. while i think it's completely plausible that she'd handle this differently than lily [although lily's reaction is entirely justified - and i don't think we should throw the baby out with the bathwater of contextualising the teenage snape and the motivating factors behind his decisions by pretending that cutting off your friend because he called you a slur is a petty, ill-thought-out, or unreasonable move], i don't think that her reaction would be automatically forgiving.

hermione is compassionate towards kreacher when he calls her a mudblood because kreacher is a slave, whose prejudicial views are inextricably bound up in the magic used to oppress him [i.e. that if he received an order to use the term, or to refuse to serve a muggleborn food, from his masters, he would have to punish himself violently if he disobeyed it]. she is not - quite rightly! - compassionate towards someone like draco malfoy when he calls her one, since he is a free person with full agency to choose not to do this.

could she forgive him - or snape - for using the term? sure! absolutely! but i don't think it's a given - and i also think she'd expect a demonstration of how sorry snape was which wouldn't necessarily align with how he'd think he'd demonstrated his regret.

i do agree that - as you say - hermione is a people-pleaser, and she definitely has a far greater tolerance for being treated cruelly by people she wants to impress [especially authority figures - including snape himself] than either harry or ron. and i think this has the potential to introduce an extremely thorny dynamic into a snamione fic - in which the power dynamic inherent in the age gap [which, to reiterate, i think is completely fine for an author to enjoy] is compounded by hermione being unwilling to anger or contradict snape [which is a vibe - as i've said in answer to an ask about harmony - we also see in her relationship with harry... it's also obviously exactly how snape's relationship with dumbledore works.]

on a couple of the more minor characterisation notes, i'm afraid that the idea of snape as a great romantic has never hit for me. it seems really bound up in the way alan rickman portrayed him in the films, which i've always found a bit toothless. i also don't like the trope of "actually snape's really hot" which seems to always accompany it - ugly, odd men to get to bone too!

[what he would be - i think - is a magpie. get ready to be handed odd stones and bits of leaves on dates.]

i also think they're highly-strung in ways which differ enough to mean they'd just annoy each other. hermione is highly-strung in that she flusters easily and is very poor under pressure, but she's actually pretty emotionally stable [and i'd dispute that she's a pessimist - this is a girl who thinks that she's successfully eradicating slavery at hogwarts by knitting hats; she's pretty robust, funny, cheerful, and idealistic]. snape is highly-strung in that he has a hair-trigger temper and is very emotionally volatile, but he's obviously an extraordinarily good liar, very quick on his feet, and very good under pressure. he'd think she panicked too much [and over insignificant things he didn't care about], she'd think he tanked the vibe of a date by taking offence at someone breathing too loudly.

where are they similar? well, they have a shared self-serving streak [hermione is appalled by behaviour from harry and ron she considers perfectly moral when she does it]; capacity for cruelty; tendency towards secrecy; tendency towards pettiness and pleasure in the misfortune of others; loathing of flying a broom; cutting sense of humour; stubbornness; resilience; clear dislike of slumming it in nature; love of puzzles; and a weakness for red hair.

i think you could make it work on the grounds that they'd probably have the time of their lives being haters together - especially, i feel, about rita skeeter.

and - y'know - because love is weird.

[identitty-dickruption]

I really appreciate ur vocal stance about harm reduction. If u have a moment, could u perhaps link to, or talk about how harm reduction works with alcohol?

Thank you, an I hope u have a good day:)

of course! while I’m now completely sober, I wouldn’t have been able to get here without harm reduction, so it’s a very personal thing to me. that being said, to be clear I also see harm reduction as an objective good, even (especially!) if it never leads to sobriety

the thing about alcohol is that a lot of it is tightly regulated on account of it being a) legal, and b) easily accessible. so you don’t necessarily have the same safety concerns as you’d have with other drugs. it’s pretty easy to keep track of how much you’ve had, because most countries have some form of “standard drink”, which legally has to be printed on labels etc

other than that, harm reduction is fairly similar with alcohol as with other drugs. the way I was taught about it was to break harm reduction into three parts: mindset, context, and substance. before you can work on setting harm reduction goals, you need to understand the facts of when, where, and why you drink, and it can be helpful to work within those categories

mindset (how you feel)

what thoughts and feelings usually lead up to drinking?

are there thoughts and feelings that are likely to lead to a worse experience when drinking?

what are some other ways you cope with those same feelings?

harm reduction in this category usually means practicing self-awareness around this stuff. if you know you’re more likely to have a bad time if you drink while angry, you can set yourself some goals around not drinking while angry (or drinking less when angry). it also can help to set up some safety barriers so that drinking is less likely to hurt yourself or others

context (social + built environment)

where do you usually drink the most? how safe are these places?

are there people you drink more around or who encourage unsafe drinking behaviours?

what environments make you feel safest when drinking?

this is where most of the harm reduction work happens with respect to drinking. not drinking with people who encourage unsafe drinking can make a major difference. as can having an accountability partner, not drinking when alone, or otherwise planning ahead to keep you as safe as possible

substance (facts of what you’re using)

how much do you usually drink?

how much is safe for you to drink? at which point do you usually start to feel unwell?

what is the best way for you to track how much you’re drinking?

what other substances might be involved? how will they interact with alcohol? (including prescription medication!!)

this also includes knowing what overdose looks like, and having a plan for what you will do in case of overdose. being aware of what a certain amount of alcohol is likely to do to your body can also make it easier to drink safely

IN GENERAL: it’s important to be realistic with yourself. setting goals you know you can’t meet right now is a fast train to burnout, shame, and disappointment. even doing ONE thing to make yourself safer is GOOD. the safer you are the better, and whatever that looks like is good

I hope this has been helpful! feel free to ask any other questions about this either way :)

[wenumsmol]

0ut 0f Ctrl

Alpha!Choso x Omega!Fem!Reader. A/B/O AU. No Jujutsu Sorcery. No cursed energy. TW: Depression, PTSD, Agoraphobia, Panic Attack, Drug use (reader), reader has a drug dependency, implied past abuse, stalking(?). 4.9k wc. Minors do not interact.

00C Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Data Drop: Unanticipated

You sit in the corner of the dimly lit internet cafe, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the worn-out keyboard. The soft glow of the monitor casts a faint light on your face, highlighting the heavy eyeliner and dark lipstick that have become your armor against the world. Oversized flannel drapes over your frame, offering a semblance of comfort. The cafe is buzzing with low conversations and the hum of computers, a backdrop to your spiraling thoughts. The air is thick with the smell of stale coffee and the faint whiff of something burnt—an unmistakable aroma that clings to the cracked vinyl seats and sticky tables.

Today is one of those days when just getting out of bed felt like a monumental effort. Depression is a bitch with the way it’s got your mind in a constant fog, making it so much harder to function on the most basic of levels. Being an omega without a pack has been taking its toll on you for quite some time. Posing as a beta is even harder since you’re more sensitive to pheromones than other omegas you’ve met. It makes it harder to get an ordinary job, and blending in is a nightmare. Working from home is the only option for you if you want to stay out of sight and out of mind. So you stay holed up in your apartment doing freelance work online and staying away from people as much as possible. And for the most part, it works.

In your mind, being alone gives you more freedom. No one to tell you what to do, no one to answer to. But it’s lonely, too. The ache in your chest never quite goes away, and you’re constantly on edge, hyper aware of your vulnerability as a single omega. Add that to the shitty self esteem issues and general feelings of worthlessness that come along with having been rejected by your previous pack, and you’ve got yourself quite a combination.

You’re used to it, though, and you’ve got your coping mechanisms. Whether they’re healthy or not is beside the point because surviving is surviving. ‘This is the way,’ you think, mocking the Mandalorian mantra as you sift through your emails. It’s a mundane task but it helps keep the worst of your thoughts at bay, among all the other shit you get up to on the internet. When a message from Naoya catches your eye—a reminder of the package that should have been delivered today, your eyes temporarily widen. It’s about fucking time you heard something from the bastard. You click open the message:

Naoya: got a present on the way. keep ur eyes peeled.

Your fingers hover over the keys before you reply:

You: ain't home right now.

Naoya: what u mean? where r u?

You: out.

Naoya: get your ass home then. this shits important

Naoya is a drug dealer. Yes... your drug dealer to be exact. You’ve been getting your supply from him for a few months now. Something to keep the edge off when your anxiety attacks become too much of a problem. It’s not like you can go to a doctor for it obviously. They’d sus out your omega status instantly, then you’d get an ankle monitor and regular visits from government employees who would dictate your lifestyle down to the most minute detail until an alpha selects you from a registry. Something you’ve been trying to avoid because you had enough of being someone’s property.

The whole process is gross and incredibly outdated, treating omegas as if they’re children needing guidance and protection. You’ve had firsthand experience with the kind of arrangement that could go horribly wrong, thanks to your parents — the very source of your traumatic past. Being in a pack is supposed to be a positive experience, but you couldn’t be more disgusted with the way Alphas take advantage of their authority over omegas, using them for sex, breeding, and other vile acts. You refuse to be trapped in a hell like that.

Out of desperation, you turned to the dark web and found an information broker, Dakusuta. They were a useful contact as they had connected you with a drug dealer who delivered with minimal social interaction. You preferred it that way–no reason to leave the comfort of your home. You paid, they provided. It had been going on for months, with you gradually stockpiling your supply and taking doses as needed. It was a convenient service, albeit morally questionable. But hey, what else would you do without it?

Naoya’s insistence strikes you as odd, though. What is he? Your fucking parole officer? If you miss a delivery, it’s usually no skin off his nose. You’ll get it when you get it. But today, he’s adamant. ‘Something’s up his ass.’ The thought nags at you, but you push it aside, focusing instead on the flickering screen in front of you. 

This internet cafe is a couple blocks from home and it took you a lot of mental prep to step outside your door earlier. It took almost two hours of pacing in your genkan and staring at the doorknob before you could actually make it outside. It’s a necessity really. The social media brain rot helps to fight the parasites in you that tell you to do a cartwheel off a tall ledge every moment free of stimulation. Your dumpster posting combined with your regular work is the perfect distraction to keep your nerves in check while you tolerate being in a public space for as long as you can. Thanks to your WiFi being out, you didn’t have the option to stay inside your depression cave if you wanted access to the internet. Coping… All there is is coping. 

Music thrums through your cheap noise-canceling headphones that help drown out any chatter of your public surroundings. The soundwaves of Twilight by bôa keep you calm, the soft tunes filling your ears and seeping out at a quiet volume beyond your personal session. “Your word and my word and her word is...Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.” You sing under your breath, nodding your head and bobbing it back and forth to the beat of the music.

As you open a new browser window to visit a message board and skim through recent posts you miss the way the guy sitting a distance away from you looks in your direction. He stares for minutes on end before he stands up, stretching his arms lazily, and he makes his way over to your table. 

Your fingers move on their own accord, tapping out your feelings in a new post. Your only method of purging rather than confiding in someone who truly knows you. ‘Everyone’s fake anyway. It doesn’t matter,’ you always think, continuing to type away.

He’s a blur in your peripheral vision as he casually invades your carefully constructed bubble, taking a seat right next to you. The only way you sense his presence is a subtle shift in the air around you from his movements, the noise canceling on your headphones doing its job a little too well right now. Awareness makes your fingers fumble over the keys, a momentary pause in your activities.

It takes a few seconds for your brain to register the movement in your peripheral vision, and the sudden intrusion startles you. Your eyes flicker towards the stranger, brows pinched. You don’t remember seeing him sit down and you didn’t smell him coming, so he must be wearing scent blockers because he’s definitely not a beta. He’s far too big for that.

As much as you want to ignore him and stick to your decision to not interact with anyone on your outing, it’s not looking like a possibility. He’s an alpha after all and your damn omega instincts won’t just allow you to disobey any command for attention. Be it intentional or not, you can feel the pull of his alpha telling you “Look at me, Omega.” 

‘Did he sniff me out?’ 

You have half a mind to tell him to fuck off but you can only see negative outcomes from that path of action; for one, any pushback could trigger him to assert dominance over you. It might not necessarily be the most likely thing to happen because you don’t know him or what kind of alpha he is but the truth remains that you know alphas well enough. Your best bet is to play it safe and not cause a scene.

 You glance up at him, a non-committal question mark on your face, and he’s looking over at you expectantly. His lips are pursed like he’s waiting for some response from you, and you realize a little belatedly he said something to you. Your brow furrows ever-so-slightly in confusion while you hesitate for a second or two. When you finally pull your headphones off, he repeats his question.

“bôa, huh? Not bad…” He leans back in his chair, fingers twiddling the metal piece on his hoodie string. His eyes are trained on yours, noting the subtle tension in your body, the hesitation in your movements. He speaks slowly, words deliberate, giving you time to process them and respond. There is no aggression in his tone, and yet your defenses go up automatically.

“You like that kind of music?” he asks, gesturing towards the earphones now hanging around your neck.

“What?” you ask, dumbly, eyes blinking rapidly. Your heart rate picks up speed and you’re not sure if he’s too close or if it’s just your anxiety fucking with your depth perception. Heat rushes your skin and you feel the need to push back your chair to gain a little personal space. It screeches across the floor, and you wonder how long he’s been sitting there. How long has he been staring at you? ‘Is he…stalking…’ Your thoughts fragment, once focused and now reduced to a lag with jitters that feel like a thousand needles pricking your skin everywhere, all at once.

“Twilight, right? ‘Your feelings and mine are all holy and you give me an inner sanctity,’” he quotes the song playing faintly from your headphones,  “My brother used to play that one a lot when we were kids.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he breaks eye contact to glance around the cafe. His nonchalant demeanor contrasts with the obvious tension radiating from you. You don’t like his confidence. It makes you feel that much more unsure of your next moves.

Despite the noise around you, it feels like you and the alpha are in your own domain, the other patrons fading into the background. “I don’t know many people who listen to that kind of stuff these days,” he continues, looking at you once more. “It’s good, though. Nostalgic, even.”  It’s a beat before he speaks again, but his dark eyes remain fixed on you, assessing, measuring your reaction. “You seem a bit tense…”

You swallow thickly, trying to fight the rising panic in your chest. “Sorry, I just...I’m—” 

“Waitin’ for a package?��� He cuts you off, glancing down at your phone that lies face up on the table between you. The screen still shows the DM chain you had been looking at. His tone is casual, almost friendly with a hint of amusement in his voice when he adds, “Must be somethin’ real important if you’re checkin’ your messages every five minutes, huh?”

Your eyes follow his line of sight, your anxiety momentarily forgotten. “How’d you...?” You sputter out a few half-formed sentences before trailing off. The ‘who, what, when, where and how’ of the matter are a whirlwind of thoughts assaulting your brain as you shake your head slightly. Your palms sweat at the idea that he might be a cop. ‘This… is bad.’

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, your eyes dart around the cafe, trying to see if anyone else is watching you. No one seems to be paying any attention to you two, but you can’t be too careful. ‘If he’s a cop then he’s probably not alone.’ No one seems to stand out but what the fuck do you know? This isn’t your area of expertise. If anything, nevermind not being the big fish to catch in any drug operation or whatever shady people call it. You’re a tadpole in the mix. No, you’re algae. It’s not your world and you’re just on the outside looking in. You’re just self medicating, not involved in the business.

For the first time since he sat down next to you, you take a good look at him. Eyes scanning over his black acid wash jeans and a black hoodie with the words ‘Truth. In. Every. Byte.’ written in bold green lettering across the front. A black leather jacket and a crossbody messenger bag complete his attire. He doesn’t look like what you assume a narc would fucking look like. Nothing like an undercover cop you’d seen on TV. Your eyes find their way back up to his face, taking in a stunning combination of soft and angular features: a strong jawline, defined cheekbones, and a striking black line slashing across his nose which could either be makeup or a tattoo. His lengthy black hair is gathered into two messy buns, with unruly strands spiking out every which way and middle parted bangs tucked behind his ears. The sight of his sly smile on his lips steals your attention, the hint of a canine pricking their plushness.

‘Oh, that’s dangerous.’ You think, unable to tear your eyes away from him. The alpha is attractive. That much you can tell. It’s not like you to get caught up in the attractiveness of random strangers, but then again, you’re not usually subjected to such intense scrutiny. Let alone an alpha aura like his. Encounters aren’t that common an occurrence either and for good reason. 

He notices the way your eyes rake over him, his smile widening faintly at the attention. Most omegas don’t pay him a second look—the piercings, the tattoos, the unconventional fashion sense—but you’re different. Your gaze is different. There’s curiosity there, a flicker of attraction in your eyes, but also something else. Fear. It’s subtle, but he catches it all the same. He likes that a little bit. It makes for a good chase.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I ain’t here to cause you any trouble,” the alpha says, noticing the way you tense up even further when he calls you that pet name. 

Your reaction to his endearment doesn’t surprise him. He can see the way your body stiffens, your muscles bunching up under your oversized clothes. He takes it all in, filing it away for later. “Relax,” he tells you, his expression a picture of calm. “I’m not gonna bite.” His eyes then roll to the side as he scoffs at his own choice of words and you don’t know if it’s self depreciation or arrogance at play.

‘Like hell he’s not gonna bite,’ you panic internally at the notion. Time dilates, each moment stretching out like taffy letting your anxiety build. Tremors rush through your body, graduating from a subtle shake to an intense quaking. The world around you blurs with a suffocating weight bearing down—

He watches you as you spiral internally. It’s like watching a trainwreck in motion, unable to look away. Despite your trembling frame, you’re holding yourself together surprisingly well. Your teeth beginning to chatter is the only giveaway of the turmoil going on inside your head. Anxiety, he guesses, recognizing the symptoms. He’s seen it before, in himself even. And he only waits, hoping that just like you seemed to contain yourself for as long as you could, you’d recover the same way.

“Hey, hey. Calm down,” he tries, his voice just above a whisper. He notices that you're bordering on a panicked state, and he’s quick to try and ease you out of it, not wanting you to suddenly drop on him.. He extends a hand towards you, slowly and carefully, intending to touch your shoulder but stopping just short of actually making contact.

He lets out a soft sigh. “You need to calm down.” He says, his voice firm and authoritative as he leans in close, his eyes locking on yours. “Breathe.”

And you feel the gentle alpha command deep within your chest, right next to what always feels like a bundle of bees wreaking havoc on your nervous system. His proximity to you is overwhelming, the smell of Oakmoss and violet from his leather jacket filling your nostrils. His eyes bore into yours, demanding your attention. ‘Breathe,’ he said, and you try to, you really do.

You desperately try to inhale, needing more of his alpha scent, but your breath keeps catching in your throat because of how faint it is. The rising panic overwhelms its effects, making you exhale raggedly while your lungs work overtime. A numbness spreads through your lips and you wish he would remove the scent blocking patches from his neck.

After a moment of no change, he swiftly retrieves a small tin from your bag and gives it a shake, confirming the sound of pills clinking inside. Then, he grabs a water bottle from his own bag to set on the table before popping open the tin. With gentle precision, he carefully fingers a small tablet and brings it to your lips. “Open,” another command, his voice soft but firm.

You blink, too focused on your labored breathing to register what he’s doing until you feel the cool surface of the pill against your lips. Confusion and a hint of fear flash through your eyes as you stare at him, but he doesn’t look away. ‘Open,’ he said, and your mouth parts almost involuntarily, the pill sliding in. Your throat feels dry as sandpaper, and swallowing is difficult. He notices that too, and within seconds, a water bottle is uncapped.

With a steady grip, he holds the water bottle against your parted lips. His eyes dart from your face to the bottle, watching you take small sips. “Now, swallow,” he says, a hint of approval seeping through his voice. “Good girl.” 

The cool and soothing water slides down your parched throat, but it does little to ease the tightness in your chest. He’s still there, still hovering close to you, his dark gaze never wavering. The whole thing feels oddly intimate, his presence fighting against the wave of anxiety threatening to drown you. It’s a support that you’ve never had before and you cling to it.

The alpha lowers the water bottle, his hand resting firmly against your trembling arm. His thumb brushes gentle reassuring circles against your skin with unexpected tenderness. “Better?” he asks, his voice still quiet and smooth. Soothing.

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. You’re acutely aware of his touch, of the way his fingers feel against your skin. You reflexively swallow, trying to clear the lump that’s lodged in your throat. As your mind clears you consider the variables. This alpha approached you knowing things about you that he shouldn’t; The package arriving at your place soon and the tin of pills stashed in your bag. He’s not a cop because if he was then why would he give you a dose and not arrest you? 

“Who are you?” You ask, your voice barely above a raspy whisper. Your dilated eyes bore into his. Curiosity fights with caution in your expression as you wait for his answer. 

He smiles faintly, responding slowly. “Names are just words,” he murmurs, his low voice deep and resonant. Delivering his words with a sense of resignation, as if he's simply stating facts rather than engaging with the conversation.

‘Fuck you.’

“Don’t Bullshit me,” you reply immediately, your voice stronger than before. Starting to feel better after his intervention has  some of your usual confidence—long absent due to your depressive state— returning. “I want to know who you are and what you want from me.” The drug is kicking in, making your mind move slowly but it’s helping you focus your faster than usual thought process to a decipherable speed. Yeah this fucker’s stalking you for sure. And it could be paranoia. It very well could be, but nobody knows about your little habit. There’s no one that could know..

He looks at you with a playful smirk and says, “Careful now. That’s not how you say ‘thank you,’ is it?” His tone is lighthearted, but there’s a hint of a warning in there too. He lifts one of his pierced brows, giving you a sarcastic look.

You falter slightly at his comment, realizing he’s right. You do owe him a thank you, but you’re not in a place to offer it, so you keep your mouth shut. 

He shakes his head with a low chuckle, sensing your turmoil. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just fuckin’ with ya.” He releases the grip on your arm and leans back, the chair creaking under his weight.

“I’m just someone who’s lookin’ out for you. Whether you realize it or not, I’m not here to hurt you,” he continues. “There is someone closer to you that does want to hurt you though. Your fairy godfather Naoya’s got you tangled up in some shit that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. But…” he pauses, his thumb worrying his lower lip. “I’m here to offer you a little help…if you want it. You’ll have to follow my lead, though. Do exactly as I say, when I say it. Got it?”

Some goddamn nerve. “What the fuck are you talking about? What’s this about Naoya?” you demand, trying to keep your voice steady. You’re aware that you’re pushing your luck with the way you’re speaking to him but you can’t stop yourself. You don’t like being kept in the dark.

He shrugs, unphased by your hostility. If anything, he finds it amusing. He doesn’t mind that you seem to be a bit of a spitfire. In fact, he finds it kind of cute. Even more so because it reminds him of himself. He sighs softly, his shoulders rising and falling with the motion.

Your eyes narrow as you observe him. ‘I set aside being a chickenshit to come out here. I came out of hiding for some fucking WiFi of all things.’ You’re berating yourself internally.  You glance toward the tin of magic in your bag, fingers itching to reach for it. The cafe’s din recedes into the background, and all you hear is the echo of your own ragged breathing. ‘One more… Maybe one more.’

He notices your eyes flick toward your stash and snatches it from your bag, moving it out of your reach. His movements are so quick that they're almost a blur, and the tin disappears into his pocket before you can even protest.

“Oh, none of that shit, focus,” he warns, his voice low and sharp as he snaps his dexterous fingers twice for your attention. The daring look on his face, a silent reprimand for your attempt to seek solace in a pill. He knows that look you give him in return. He’s seen it before. The temptation to bury reality in a haze of oblivion. He knows how easy it is to slip down that rabbit hole and how treacherous the climb back up is.

His face darkens, slight frustration carving deep lines into his features. His words are an insistent prod reminding you that you’re not sitting here alone. “Anyway, Naoya’s pure shit up an infant’s back on a hot day, if you know what I mean. Been keeping tabs on him, and guess what? He’s been skimming off the top of his family’s shipments and using your address for his little drop-offs—not that you’d notice. He’s slick about it, too—someone else picks up his shit and leaves yours outside for you to find, so you’re none the wiser. Delivery confirmed. And now, he’s cooking up a scheme to throw you under the bus, while he waltzes away scot-free. That Xanax order you placed? Forget about it, it’s not happenin’—Don’t look so fuckin’ sad about it. He’s swapped it for a heap of something stronger, alright? It’s about to land on your doorstep with someone else’s name slapped on it. When Zenin’s men come knocking about their missing product, you'll be the one they find. Not Naoya. You’re just a pawn in this, sweetie. Sorry to tell ya.” He punctuates his revelation with a bitter laugh.

Your breath hitches, taking everything in and feeling sick to your stomach. You don’t even have a personal relationship with this man. It was all business and nothing more than that yet he chose to set you up. ‘Does he know I’m an omega—that I can’t do anything to stop this?’ The Zenins are a widely known criminal Organization here in Japan. You’ve seen them on the news time and time again with headlines and coverage about drug trafficking, omega trafficking, gambling, extortion, loan-sharking, and protection rackets. You name it and they’ve done it. These people are the real deal and if they get their hands on you, it doesn’t take much imagination to figure out which of those crimes will be applied. That’s if they don’t kill you. But who’d let an untouched omega go to waste? It’s like your life turned into a True Crime podcast overnight and you’re being forced to listen on the sidelines. “No… No I—”  

The alpha’s eyes widen briefly when he sees the color drain from your face.

 “I think I’m... gonna go home now.�� If he couldn’t read lips he’d have no fucking idea what you just said because although your lips were moving, no sound was coming out. Not a peep.

His gaze sharpens as he sizes you up, clocking the tremors racking your body and the panic returning to your voice. “Nah, you’re not going anywhere,” he declares with finality, shaking his head.

“What’s the point?” you mumble.

“Not happenin’,” he snaps, his voice slicing through your haze of despair. “You’re in no state to handle this alone.” He breathes out through his nose, gaze softening slightly. A flicker of genuine concern breaks through his tough exterior. It’s clear that you’re overwhelmed and on the verge of shutting down. Having you out in the fray on your own is a no-go. His alpha won’t have it.

“Why do you even care?” 

“Because from the looks of it, someone needs to care,” he retorts, his irritation tinged with a hint of desperation. “You’re not thinking straight, and you’re as stable as a house of cards in a hurricane. Trust me, going home isn’t gonna fix shit. Haven’t you been listenin’ baby girl?”

“Then what’s the alternative?” you ask, a touch of defiance sparking in your eyes.

His pupils constrict as he leans in close, his hand cupping your face with a grip that borders on possessive. His fingers splay wide, holding you in place as if he’s determined to imprint his words. “You’re not giving up,” his voice low, urgent. “And you’re damn sure not going anywhere alone. You’re coming with me.”

Your breathing picks up, a warmth swirling in your chest again from the magnetism of his alpha aura. Your omega whines at the back of your conscience, wanting, needing to go with him. You feel a flash of vulnerability that you've been keeping tightly locked away these past few years come to the surface. Your heart threatens to beat in a forbidden rhythm over this interaction and you hate it. You hate that you left your home. You hate Naoya and the info broker that set you up with that bastard in the first place. You hate that you like how his hand feels against your touch starved skin and his intense words you can’t make sense of. That barely there Oakmoss and violet blended scent hanging in the air between you.He’s being tender with you. Why? What is the actual fucking reason? It’s burning you up on the inside. You hate it and you love it and you want to go home.

“You stick with me. You do what I say. And, ideally, you stop popping pills like they’re goddamn breath mints,” he smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s something else there instead… longing? No, that’s bullshit.

“Why?” you challenge, meeting his gaze with fire in your eyes.

“Because I said so, Y/n,” he replies, his tone authoritative, concern etched into every line of his face. 

You want to question the tone he’s taking with you further but all that is pushed aside at the mention of your name. Your eyebrows shoot up at the sound of it. “Who the FUCK are you?” you blurt out, voice cracking with disbelief. You’ve never seen this guy a day in your life and somehow he knows your name, your extracurriculars and the true crime clusterfuck you’re caught in. 

His smirk fades into a serious expression, the lines around his mouth tightening. “I know it’s a lot to take in,” he says, his voice low and steady, trying to bridge the gap between the unknown and your growing panic. “But you need to trust me right now. There’s no time for any more explanations. We gotta get a move on.” His eyes dart around the cafe in quick assessment. “For the sake of your comfort, my name is Choso. But you might know me better as 'Dakusuta’.”

00C Masterlist

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hey! Can u write a whump fic where a winged hero gets their wing ripped out and the villain come to save them?

“Oh god.” That was all the villain could whisper. They had hoped, prayed, that they would make it in time but it was evidently too late.

The hero’s back was covered in dark and thick blood, dropping down onto the ground in two rivers.

At first, the villain had thought them to be dead. They were laying in a fetal position, hiding their head and shallow breathing. The sheer amount of blood loss suggested death or at least the process of dying but the villain also knew that their nemesis wasn’t human.

Where their wings used to be were two open and deep wounds, deep enough, the villain feared, to show bone. They needed a second to remind themselves to act.

“You’re with me, okay?” the villain asked but their voice broke and their hope did too. When they kneeled beside the hero and picked them up, they took their enemy’s face into their hands. Tears ran down their beautiful face and all the villain could think of was a fallen angel.

“Hey, you’re okay.” The hero’s eyes found theirs and they shook their head weakly. As if to answer, the villain smeared the tears across the hero’s cheeks with their thumbs, trying desperately to get rid of them. “Yes. You are okay, this is fine.”

They were fully aware that pain was a different feeling for the hero. It was more intense, more vile and shattering than for other people. Whenever it got this bad, the hero would just suffer in silence, crying without making a sound. However, the villain couldn’t even begin to comprehend what this meant to their enemy.

They knew the hero and they knew their wings were everything to them. Sometimes they would say they would be nothing without them and the villain had always hated that they based their self-worth on this.

“Let’s turn you around, okay?” The hero shook their head and the villain couldn’t help but interpret their protest as a form of giving up. Giving up and waiting to die, that’s what was happening to them.

Without heeding their reaction, the villain turned them around, so that their naked upper body was laying across their lap. They knew how painful their next words would be.

“I have to stitch this.” The hero buried their face in the villain’s thigh and once again, they shook their head. “These cuts are deep and even though your body heals faster, it doesn’t mean that there won’t be any complications. You will most certainly die if it stays like this.”

Stitching this meant a permanent solution, a permanent scar that would make it impossible to reattach their wings. The villain doubted that those wings were intact anyway.

“No,” the hero whispered. “Please.”

“It’s okay, you will live,” the villain tried to explain. They put their flat hand onto the hero’s exposed shoulder, caressing gently. “You’re more than this, I promise. You can outlive this. You can find a happy life.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. Please, fight this. Don’t give them what they want,” the villain begged. God, they hadn’t begged in ages. “You’re so much more than what they see. You’re not a prize, you’re not an exotic animal. You don’t deserve to be hunted and you can’t make them think they won. They will pay for this.”

The hero searched for the villain’s hand and once they found it, they squeezed it.

“Do what you have to do.”

[itgomyway]

there is nothing to do, there’s nothing but you 🍥

i keep seeing people relate non dualism back to cause and effect. you do ��x” to get “y”. how am i suppose to get this. how am i suppose to be aware of that. how am i suppose to be. and im afraid you got non dualism all wrong. because its just you.

everything is consciousness. you are consciousness. that is it. thats all. theres no physical world theres no imagination theres no 3d theres no 4d theres no infinite realities, there is no getting, there is no pleasure, there is no pain. it is just you.

that not making any sense? that’s okay. its not going to. you already know this. as consciousness being and everything you are knowledge itself. any concept of source or learning comes directly from you. your “self” already knows this. its your ego, the false sense of “self” getting in the way. its just you.

so then how do things exist? like time, what you see, money, other people, food, desires? they dont. theyre not real. none of that is real. why? because only consciousness is real. they appear to exist “physically” because you are aware of them presenting that way. its just you.

meaning doesn’t come first. you come first. you are the only thing that exist. and as existence you give existing things its meaning after they come to your awareness.

whatever you are aware of is what the human body experiences because you are a being of consciousness experiencing the human condition. you are not human though, you are consciousness. consciousness is the only thing that exist therefore its the only real thing. its just you.

this is why there is no separation. you as the conscious observer experiencing the human condition are conditioned into believing whatever the body experiences (your 5 senses) is real. its not. you are more than the body. you have control over what you experience due to your awareness. its just you

understanding that you are not actually human you are a being of consciousness playing the game known as life, you can transcend needing to feel validated by what you experience physically. the “3d” doesnt validate at all. its what i am most used to but as consciousness i know what i am. its just u

now let me be clear. the 3d doesnt exist validate me because i am a being of consciousness. however my ego, the false sense of self where my thoughts doubts and fears reside does get validation from “physical experiences” it doesn’t understand its not just experiencing it physically. the ego, like ur inner child, cannot comprehend that its not actually human, in control, or real. as soon as it tries, the human condition jumps in and brings up the thoughts doubts and fears. thats okay because thats its job. your job as the observer is to not react because you know its just you

the ego may be scared of rejection and thats fine. the ego isnt in control so let it throw its temper tantrum. let it cry, scream and shout. you would also let it be happy and carefree right? why is one emotion worse than the other if neither are real in the first place? its just you

with all of this, the main point is that it is you. thats all there is. nothing to understand because you already know you exist. nothing to get because you’re everything. nothing to “try” to be because you already are. its just you.

“how do i get-“

“how do i experience-”

“how do i become-“

“how do i be?“

its just you. you are. you got it you experienced it you became it so now be it. congratulations! its done!

© itgomyway