#I mean the topic is utterly boring

[oediex]

For every 50 streak days you attain, Duolingo gives you three days of access to their subscription-based benefits. A taste of what awaits you if you pay. I suppose it's meant to be tantalising.

Most of them I do not care much for.

There are some reviewing practices that, in my opinion, don't add much to the experience. Sure, it's useful to practice your vocabulary, but as you can see all the words you've learned even without a subscription, this is something you can easily arrange yourself.

The only acceptable use of the reviewing skills, in my opinion, are practice sessions of exclusively listening exercises. I guess that might be handy.

Two other notable advantages present themselves.

On the one hand, having a subscription gives you the opportunity to get infinite hearts. A while back, a you-have-five-hearts-before-you-need-to-practice-to-gain-some-more system came into effect. It had been around for a while on the app, as I understand, but the browser remained heartless for longer.

Only being able to make five mistakes honestly improved my language learning. Well. No. It improved the level of attention and concentration I engage in. I must admit I was rather lazy before this difficulty arrived. Typing too quickly, mostly. A misclick here and there. Which led to stupid mistakes that weren't mistakes as such. Just carelessness.

So I'm honestly not interested in returning to infinite lives all the time. It's great for these three days, but I also find myself unfailingly falling back into the same inattentiveness that would govern my Duolingo time before. I don't like it. The hearts system probably doesn't work for everyone, but it's a win for me. Although stupid mistakes do still happen and are followed by a lot of cursing now.

(Whenever I curse like that when I'm in company and they ask why, I have to admit it's because I lost all my Duolingo hearts because I made a stupid mistake, resulting in blank stares.)

The one thing I really enjoy when they give me a taste of paying for Duolingo is not having to spend a hundred in-game gems on turning my lessons into legendary status. How often have I lost my gems by making a stupid mistake during one of these challenges. The heartbreak.

(The cursing.)

To be able to do so without spending my hard-earned gems and infinite lives? Well. It's like heaven for someone as addicted to challenges as I am.

So during those three days that come around every 50 days? I get overzealously concerned with turning my lesson symbols into that precious, precious gold.

[abyssruler]

furina’s guide on the art of matchmaking

neuvillette x gn!reader

it’s no secret that furina is constantly bored of the mundanity that comes with court, but with the recent discovery of neuvillette’s crush on you, things have just gotten a lot more interesting. if only you and neuvillette would just get together, but alas, it comes down to the great hydro archon to bring justice to neuvillette’s sad, pathetic love life.

furina pov, comedy, furina being dramatic as hell

Furina knows the best way to get under Neuvillette’s skin is through you. The Iudex may seem impassive from the outside, but she knows where to look for his tells, particularly when he’s annoyed (she has, after all, been the recipient to silently judging stares, usually those of a disappointed or even irritated nature).

And she’s seen the way Neuvillette looks at you—his face softening, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips, and most damningly of all, the slightest hint of a blush whenever you stare into his eyes a little too long to be considered proper.

It’s all so entertaining to watch, if a bit miffing to endure seeing how utterly slow the two of you are. If Furina had been in Neuvillette’s shoes, she would have long since enacted a performance grander than anything Fontaine has ever seen and asked you out on a date. Not just any date though, no, she would have to pull an all-nighter to come up with the best date there is. One does not simply go on a date with the God of Justice and have it be mediocre.

But all that aside, with how boring Neuvillette is with his stricter than strict rules and views on how one must go about their day, it falls upon her to make sure he doesn’t die as a decrepit old bachelor who’s never felt the touch of another person intimately. (Not that Furina had any say on the topic of intimacy, seeing as she’s never had any experience in the romantic aspects of life, but experience means nothing compared to the wisdom of the God of Justice!)

So, after many nights spent huddled beneath her blankets, scribbling on her notebook and brainstorming the best way to get a rise out of Neuvillette, she happened upon a breakthrough. An idea so great it would not only be something worthy of the Steambird’s headlines, but also be something the people of Fonatine would speak of for years to come.

Yes, it all comes down to this very moment, standing over the highest place in the opera with hundreds of eyes watching her as she points an accusing finger at your figure standing on the very stage she’s set up.

Neuvillette watches it all with his eyes narrowed at her, hands clasped tightly around his cane, and Furina would have loved to relish in that reaction, but alas, she must continue with her script.

With a haughty smile, she meets your eyes as she yells out loud to her captivated audience.

“I charge you, (Y/N), with the crime of theft!”

The people below gasp in shock at the sudden accusation. Only natural, of course. You, an esteemed person of reputable background who most people view as a kind person, being charged with theft? How scandalous!

But that’s not all!

“You stand accused of thievery,” Furina pauses for a dramatic effect, feeling the spectators hold their breaths as they await her final verdict.

She then looks up at Neuvillette, and it takes all she has in her not to burst in hysterics at the comically pinched face he’s sporting. She moves her finger from you to Neuvillette, practically preening in place as the assembled crowd below let out varying expressions of shock.

And with a smug smile, she deals the final blow.

“For stealing the Chief Justice of Fontaine’s heart!”

One, two, three—

Screams erupt from below. Women squealing in delight while the men cheer at the sudden twist from accusation to romance.

Furina basks in the attention as the people sing praises of her.

“Of course, how could not I have seen it before?”

“Lady Furina is so sharp to have caught on!”

“Monsieur Neuvillette and (Y/N) do make a good pair, don’t they?”

“How ingenious! As expected of our Lady Furina!”

But then, Neuvillette stands, a stern look on his face as he taps his cane on the ground hard enough to rattle her eardrums.

“Order!”

His face could have been made from stone with how hard he’s looking at her. If looks could kill, she’d be dead on the spot. Yikes! Perhaps it’s time to make a swift escape…

“Lady Furina, might I remind you that charges and accusations are not to be made lightly within the court. To abuse your position in order to make a ridiculous statement. I…”

With every word that leaves his mouth, Furina slowly begins to feel that perhaps she’d been too hasty in thinking that all would turn out well. And oh, maybe she should have thought up of scenarios and what-to-dos after she finished performing her grand plan, but in her defense, she’d been too excited at the prospect of finally pushing you two together that it completely slipped her mind!

Is it too late to claim it was all an elaborate performance not meant to be taken seriously?

Neuvillette stares thunderously up at her.

She’ll take that as a no, then.

Just when all hope seemed to have been lost, a savior comes in the form of you raising your hand.

Neuvillette immediately stops speaking in favor of addressing you.

“Would the accused like to defend their innocence?”

You take a deep breath, gaze briefly flitting to Furina’s before meeting Neuvillette’s. And even without much prompt, from that single glance alone, she knew she was about to witness something extremely entertaining.

“I… I would like to press charges as well,” you say evenly, and for a second, Furina’s heart drops as she thinks you’re about to charge her for false accusations and perhaps even slander, (the first time in history that anyone has charged the God of Justice for a crime!) but then, you continue—

“I would like to press charges against you, Monsieur Neuvillette, for stealing my heart too.”

Your statement is followed by a stunned silence that only lasts for a brief moment, before it’s overcome by exclamations and whoops at the sudden turn of events.

Furina falls back on her seat and howls with laughter as she watches Neuvillette be struck speechless, red creeping up his cheeks as your statement echoes across the cavernous hall. She reminds herself to gift you something extravagant for saving her at the very last moment.

Ah, what a delightful way to end the show.

She watches you direct a besotted smile towards Neuvillette. Another day, another poor sod saved from the horrors of a nonexistent love life.

Furina mentally pats herself on the back for a job well done.

[muntitled]

heyyyy!! my brain gave me a half-assed thought in the nighttime starring best friend/perv!Lee Minho and bimbo!Reader. Minho's ALWAYS flirting with and staring at you, but you just (somehow) never notice. he likes seeing you wear those little outfits that barely cover you up and always mentions that you should only wear that stuff for him. one day he was just at his limit after another failed attempt at flirting. so, he just pushes you against the wall. you can feel how hard he is behind you, but you didn't see this coming so you're freaking out. and he just tells you "i'm gonna have what i want. so you might as well take what i give you."

-💌 (p.s. i hope this was coherent) ((p.p.s. make sure you take time for yourself to rest and just breathe bc that beautiful mind of yours is so so important!! <3))

𝐏𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲

Lee Minho x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Insecurities, Jealousy, Possessive!Minho, Smut +18 (Minors DNI) dub/con, Bratty!reader, Brat Tamer!Minho, Perv!Minho, Dom/Sub Themes, Mean Dom!Minho, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Grinding, Mutual Masturbation, CNC, Overstimulation

Fueling the Dom!Minho agenda

You did not particularly deal well with being unliked. Everybody has to like you all the time and there is no concrete way to tell your best friend this. Especially while he's driving down the highway, with rain pellets beating down the windshield.

You did not look at Minho when you initially slipped into the car. So completely and utterly suffocated by embarrassment.

The call prior to being picked up had been less than savoury.

"Isn't it too early to be calling me to come save you from your date?" His voice was completely drenched in his ususual smug sarcasm, "Or was he just that fucking boring?"

"I've been stood up and I'm not exactly sure where I am."

Almost immediately, Minho forced you to send your location until he was speeding over to where you sat, in your little dress all alone under the awning of a Michelin star restaurant.

You had thought the worst of the evening was behind you…

The car is completely drenched in silence with neither you, nor Minho knowing exactly how the broach such a sensitive topic. You're embarrassed. He knows this. The only thing evading his understanding is why… Why are you embarrassed when you shouldn't be?

"At least give me a name or an address or something," Minho's voice is dangerously low and you peer up at him with wide eyes from the passenger seat. Seeing him so put together is wholly off putting. Dressed in nothing but his sweats and a polo shirt- all black, all Tom Ford- Minho's gaze is fucking deadly as he glares at the road ahead. His frustration manifests in the form of whitened knuckles gripping a steering wheel for dear life.

"Minho, I'm not giving you his address just so you can go and harass him." The fact that you even had to reiterate this is beyond your comprehension.

"I honest-to-God, just wanna have a word with the guy..." Minho says, swinging his head towards you, completely paralysing you with the depths of his endless dark eyes. Instead of waging a war with Minho (one you knew you couldn't possibly win,) you choose to accept defeat. It consumes your entire countenance as you sink down into the passenger seat, avoiding eye contact.

"Why can't anyone love me?" The rain droplets rattling Minho's vehicle only amplifies the question and for the umpteenth time tonight, Minho is overcome with mass frustration. Again, you should not be the one feeling unwanted. You should not be letting scum of the very earth dictate the trajectory of your self worth. To make matters impossibly worse, another car swerves into his lane, completely cutting him off from a seamless drive.

"Jesus, Fuck!" While Minho curses out the driver, you keep your head against the window.

"I think I'm cursed to stay single and bitchless for the rest of my life."

You didn't get it.

You were a fairly good girl, never once stepping out of bounds. Not at work: where you worked so diligently for a boss who didn't always deserve it.

Not in your adolescence: Where you never rebelled, not even once. You lovingly spared your parents all the heartache even after you matured enough to go to college.

Perhaps the reason all your dates ended with a certified ghosting was because you simply weren't cut out for relationships. That is the most harrowing thought of them all...

Minho's voice pipes up from beside you, effectively saving you from slipping into self pity, "I think you're overlooking one major factor when it comes to staying single and bitchless for the rest of your life," You're already rolling your eyes, "And what's that?"

You can practically hear the pompous smirk as Minho says, "I'm right here. I'm always right here."

Instead of responding, your tone remains wistful and airy.

"The guy took one look at me and gassed the fuck out of the restaurant." Your blood pressure is being shot to hell at just the very thought of the man (who had contacted you first, thank you very much).

"It's like he decided reality didn't match what he saw on tinder and took it all back..." you conclude your rant with a heavy and listless exhale.

Minho, who continued to glare at the wet tar road ahead, allows his mind to conjure up every possible way your 'date' might've died on his way home. Instead of voicing these homicidal thoughts, Minho instead, cleverly and cooly asks, "What kind of weirdos are you going on dates with?"

Your reply comes sickeningly quick. "The kind of weirdos that give me the time of day," and to make matters impossibly worse, you attach a pitiful and dry chuckle to the end of your sentence. "Not everyone is like you, Minho. Not everyone has the luxury of being the object of everyone's desires." His stomach sinks deeper and deeper with the sadness that coats your voice. Anything that might save him from this suffocating feeling at the bottom of his stomach brought on by the sadness in your tone.

"I just don't get it?" Your sad eyes watch as Minho pulls into the parking lot of his apartment complex.

"I didn't smell bad ‘cus I made sure to wear Chanel number five-" Minho can do nothing except clench his jaw. His grip on the steering wheel is deadly as he eases his car into the vacant spot… “and this dress Lix bought me for graduation- I mean he assured me I don't look fucking bloated in it so I assume I looked fine." He tries to make it through your pity party, really, he does. Whenever you found yourself in this state, slipping deeper and deeper into your insecurities, Minho found it terribly difficult to pull you out.

Difficult but not impossible

"I'm telling you," he chooses to say instead, righting his shoulders and cutting off the engine as he forces that confident smirk back onto his face, "If you wanna get laid so badly I'm always a phone call away...."

Instead of entertaining Minho's words, your mind wanders, “Maybe I'm just not hardwired for a relationship. Maybe all I'll have until I reach my deathbed is my rose toy and 5000 cats-”

“False. You have my fingers any time. Or my mouth-”

And for some reason, that statement alone… that one little flirt becomes the undoing of your sanity. “MINHO BE SERIOUS FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS JESUS CHRIST!” You do not know, nor do you care if your voice is loud enough to bleed outside, enough to disrupt any passerbys. You've fucking had it.

With men who disappoint you.

With men who say they'll show up but choose not to.

“I'm telling you I fucking failed this evening! I failed and you're not listening-

In what appears to be a snarky remark to the side, Minho mumbles, “I'm not the one that's not listening-”

“I don't need your teasing right now, Jesus! The fact that I have to spell that out-” you release a sigh “Fucking never mind,” you feel utterly defeated, and before you brain catches up to the movement of your hands, you're already typing frantically for a ride assistance app.

Minho scoffs incredulously. That sunshine smile bleeds quickly into a dangerous glare and he watches as you type frantically across your screen. “Say what you gotta say.”

“I didn't ask you to come pick me up, just so you could interrogate me-” before your sentence could become another uphill screaming match you shake your head in a way that has Minho's knuckles whitening across the inactive steering wheel. His patience was dwindling dismally and he had the vaguest suspicion that you know this.

In fact, you might have always known this: Which buttons to push to get which reaction.

He's noticed it for a while since the peroration of your ‘friendship’. Something that blossomed into a friendship when he so very clearly tried to make it everything but.

“I'm gonna take an Uber home,” you say in a tone he can only describe as bratty.

“I swear to fucking God.” he says, manic eyes crinkling at the sides in a smile of disablief, his tongue jutting against the inside of his cheek.

Minho's not sure what he wants to do but he's damn sure you're not going to like it. “If you set foot out of this car-” He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index. Quietly muttering Korean expletives while you sit meekly, taking your scolding. “If you set foot out this car-”

“You're not my father, Minho,” he flinches. “I'm getting my uber-”

“Try it, see what happens.”

“Minho, goodnight.”

The last thing you expect to feel as your hand touches the car handle, is Minho’s larger hand covering your wrist in a calloused grip. His hand is firm, almost concrete and before you're able to process this, he's already dragging your face towards him.

“W-What the f-fuck, Minho, let me go!” the words come out mangled and squashed because Minho has his hands squishing your cheeks in an equally iron grip. Enough to have your teeth pushing against the inside of your cheeks. Enough to have tears stinging your eyes.

“Why the fuck do you never listen?” He whispers, almost to himself. As if he's completely forgotten about the girl, leaning over the centre console because he's squishing her cheeks for dear life. You anticipate the bruises. You can almost feel them coming on.

“It's like you purposely want to piss me off-”

Despite the aircon pouring warm hair to combat the Korean chill you feel very much icy all over. It's as if the chill has seeped into your very bones and it's not long until you're completely wracked in a series of violent shivers. You have never experienced anything like this.

Minho watches in apparent awe at the way your pupils, dark as they, dilate into even darker slits. His hand shifts silently from your cheeks, to your jaw, and lower until his hand is wrapping around your neck.

“Are you wearing panties right now?”

The question hurtles through your foggy brain like a runaway train until you're forced to bore your eyes into his, “What?”

“Which pair are you wearing right now?” He asks, despite the hand already drifting from your neck, all the way down your body. He swipes his hand against your slightly damp skin, prying your thighs apart with his hand as if it were nothing. “I wanna see which you were planning to have on for him,” he knew he wouldn't like, whatever the outcome may be, but he's only just begun this game and he's not ready to stop.

“Minho.” Your hand shoots out to cradle his bicep, which proves to be a deeply harrowing mistake for someone as inexperienced as you are because his arms are so firm, so taut. You instinctively find your thighs opening just a fraction wider, even as you say, “I don't think we should do this.” You begin oh so slowly. Hoping to convey with your eyes, that which you refused to say with your lips. “I want you to stop.” Minho is absolutely breathless at the sight of the stars sparkling in your dazed eyes.

He knows exactly what you want and he's damn well going to give it to you. An escape.

“I've never known a bigger slut than you, you know that?” So casual. So forward. His words nearly have you whimpering into the quiet air.

“I can see how badly you want this,” Never ever letting his gaze stray from your helpless expression, Minho pushes his hand further into the apex of your thighs and you wait. You wait with bated breath for the euphoria to trickle in by the cold tips of his fingers touching the lace of your underwear. “You want it so bad, don't you?”

“I-I- don't,” you force the words out with your hands unknowingly wrapping themselves around Minho's forearm. “This whole time, you knew,” he laughs dryly as he lets the pad of his fingers finally reach your clothed cunt. Your legs are trembling. “You fucking knew I wanted you and yet you still went on your little date anyways,”

That has you momentarily slipping out of your subspace, but before he lets that happen, he's rubbing slow circles against your cunt, with his right hand, a hand closest to the console, easier to reach the most intimate parts of you.

“didn't know, Minho,” the whimpers leaving your mouth are soft, so intimate, like the colour pink personified and it has Minho squeezing his eyes shut for all of a few tense seconds.

When his eyes flutter open again, the old Minho is nowhere to be found. Gone is the overly flirty best friend. Gone is the unnecessary jokester. Gone is the dry humour. The only thing in its place is a stone whisper of a smirk as he says, “Ride my hand.”

“W-What-”

“You don't talk,” he says, before sliding your panties to the side, “Useless little girls don't get to talk.” He says, racking a moan from straight out your throat as his hand presses against your drenched heat. “Useless little girls don't even get to speak.”

“Minho-”

“All you think about is getting to cum, right?” There's so much of a condescending nature in its tone, it almost has you instinctively tightening your grip on the forearm between your legs and pushing your heat against his fingers. The sight of you so worked up by his bad words have Minho cursing under his breath.

You're watching him as if he invented the stars, as if to say ‘What else’, and it drives him to complete madness.

“F-Fuck,”

“She knows how to say bad words,” he cackles as you squish your soaked cunt against his calloused palm. His knuckles are pressed firmly into the seat and his wrist is giving out but his horny brain fog is far too powerful.

“That's it, Petal,” he says, watching almost as if slipping into his own trance, “fuck my hand, I wanna see how bad you want it-”

“P-Please-” You whisper, “I need your cock-”

“You don’t get to make demands when you're being punished,” he mumbles, before leaning his head back against his seat, watching you desperately try to bring yourself to orgasm by rutting your hips against his hand. “Unless, you don't need my help and you'd rather just make yourself cum-”

“NO!” you keep a firm grip on his forearm, bottom lip quivering as you stare at him with wide eyes. “I'm s-so close, please.”

Minho can't help it. The very act of you asking him for something as sacred as an orgasm… It has him trying to adjust the bulge forming in his sweatpants.

“You're close, yeah?” He asks, now entering his own pleasure. He slips his left hand into his boxers while he watches you ride his hand.

“You’re close from humping that wet pussy against my hand?”

“Oh god, yes,”

“You’re such a good fucking girl you know that?” His breathing is heavy now because he's jerking himself off to the same pace as your cunt rubbing itself against his hand.

“You're such a good whore,” he whispers.

“Call me that again- p-please I’m gonna cum!”

“I've always wanted to treat you like the whore I know you are,” he whispers, watching as your eyes slip to the back of your skull, “I hated watching you go on those dates.”

“M-Minho-”

“Kill them,” he whispers silently, “I’ve fucking wanted to kill every single one of them.” he squeezes his cock, feeling his own ripples of pleasure shoot down your spine.

“Y-Yours,” you whisper, “I'm yours-”

“F-Fuck baby-” Sensing Minho slipping into his own prgasm, you grind your cunt harder against his hand. It doesn't take much for you to make a complete mess all over his seats. You're both wracked with a wave of shivers and Minho tries to keep his eyes open as he milks his cock for all it's got. He wants to watch your hips stutter. He wants to see how you look when you cum and he wants to commit it to memory.

He decides it's the most addictive thing he's ever seen.

“No fucking way you made me cum all over myself like some fuckcing teenager,” he grumbles, staring down at the mess he's made all over his shirt.

You're still a panting shivering mess and you yelp when Minho squeezes your sensitive, overstimulated clit.

“Hey,” he says, gaining your attention immediately, “No more dates yeah?”

You do nothing but nod.

<3

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

[neochan]

THE PROMISCUOUS TUTOR – TEASER

SERIES MASTERLIST LINK | remember this is part three of a series! read part one & two for context! cannot be read as a standalone!

PAIRING | tutor!jaemin x reader

SYNOPSIS | na jaemin is too sexy to be holed up in the campus library, but once you catch wind of what he does between the shelves, you know it’s your time to see just how well his reputation proceeds him.

WC | 1.1k for the teaser | 20-25k est. for fic

A.N | this is just a teaser for you guys to get hype!! current wc for the entire project is 14.6k....will be posting the finished fic on feb 1st <3

The echo of your footsteps resonates through the quiet library as you navigate your way to the geology section. The fluorescent lights above flicker intermittently, casting occasional shadows that dance along the bookshelves. You can't help but wonder why Haechan chose such a weird ass place to meet.

Decorative rocks are showcased throughout this area of the library, and in the back of your mind you wonder who in their right mind would study geology. Rocks?

“Took you long enough.” Haechan teases, emerging from the shadows between two bookshelves. You squint at him, your eyes still adjusting to the unexpected appearance.

"Why do you have to be so extra?" you quip, recovering from the surprise. It's the second time today he's managed to catch you off guard.

"Extra is my middle name, darling," he grins, leaning casually against the shelves. You secretly wish they would give in and collapse just for the sake of a good laugh.

"Cut the dramatics, Haechan. Why am I here?" you demand, crossing your arms.

"I want to know what you’re doing with Jaemin," he deadpans, peering up through his long lashes. "Because for the past thirty minutes or so, you've been practically drooling over him." He checks his wrist adorned with a silver watch you gifted him last Christmas, "And I've been keeping track, by the way. Don't bother denying it; I've got eyes everywhere."

You roll your eyes, annoyance creeping in. "That's bordering on stalker behavior, you know."

He casually shrugs, unfazed. "Answer the question."

"I'm studying with Jaemin. What else would I be doing?" you retort, finding the situation utterly ridiculous.

"Sure, you're not one of his study buddies?" Haechan drawls, dragging out the second-to-last word and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You resist the urge to roll your eyes again, realizing you've walked right into his stupid trap.

You glare pointedly. “Just because you caught me looking at another man that isn’t you doesn’t mean I want to fuck him.”

“Oh sweetheart, I didn’t say anything about fucking him.” Haechan replies with a sly grin.

“You implied it!” You huff, jabbing him in the chest with a manicured finger.

He clutches the spot and winces at pain. “Damn your nails are sharp.”

“Why am I really up here.” You were becoming impatient. Perhaps you should have known that Haechan would waste your time. There was nothing of importance for you between these stupid, dusty, rock filled shelved.

A part of you did know it, though. And that part was practically begging Haechan to shove you against the shelves and start fucking your brains out.

You squash that part down. Deep down.

Haechan sighs and takes a tentative step backwards, “Honestly, I was bored and just wanted to mess with you.” You open your mouth to chastise him, but he cuts you off before you can, “But now that we’re on the topic of fucking Jaemin –”

“Don’t think we’re on the same topic here.” You interject.

He keeps going without missing a beat, “I just thought you should know about his....habits” His face beams in pride, as if this super-secret tidbit of information could solve world hunger.

"His habits?"

Haechan takes a step towards you, "Yeah...his dirty, filthy habits."

"What are you getting at Haechan?"

The boy in front of you eyes you up and down before speaking slowly, "You're telling me you don't know?"

You narrow your eyes at Haechan, feeling a mix of confusion and suspicion. "Know what exactly? Stop beating around the bush and just spit it out."

Haechan smirks, relishing the moment. "I just thought you should know that he fucks girls here after hours."

“In the geology section?” You question, skepticism etching your features.

“In the library dumbass.” Haechan retorts, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. His eyes lock onto yours, daring you to challenge him.

“Yeah right.”

He stomps his foot in a childlike manner. “I’m serious.”

Your disbelief lingers. "I don't believe you. It's literally patrolled by security after hours," you assert, your arms crossing defensively over your chest.

Haechan rolls his eyes, seemingly accustomed to your skepticism. "Y/n, me and Jeno used to think Jaemin was rocking your shit back when he started tutoring you."

A wry smile creeps onto your face. "How lovely."

“I mean, now we know you just need help with stats –”

“It’s a hard subject.” You defend yourself.

Sure, you’d never been good at math like others, but statistics was a hard class. And your professor made it even more boring with her monotoned voice.

“I know, cheated my way through an A.” Haechan admits, flashing a beaming smile. “Anyways, he has an entire roster of girls he brings to the library after hours. Honestly, you’re the only girl I’ve seen him actually tutor.” The soft glow of the library lights casts a warm hue on the leather-bound volumes that surround you and you notice it illuminates the curve of Haechan’s jaw too.

“Haechan, I swear if this is a prank or a set up.”

He gives another stomp to the worn-out carpet, "Why would I be lying about this?" he insists, his expression genuinely serious. "You know what, meet me here Friday night at nine thirty."

“The library closes at eight.”

“Back entrance is always open.” He winks at you, and you playfully swat his arm. “Gonna prove that I’m not lying.”

“Whatever.”

You find yourself baffled by Haechan's sudden revelation about Jaemin's supposed "dirty habits." There's a lingering question in your mind – why is Haechan even sharing this information with you in the first place? As the absurdity of the situation sinks in, you can't help but wonder what prompted him to bring you to this secluded spot just to share peculiar details about Jaemin's life.

Is he threatened by your sudden interest - if he really was catching on to the fact that you were after Jaemin.

A few beats pass before he’s nudging your shoulder. “So?” He jostles your arm with his own until you swat at him again, “You’ll meet me here?”

“Sure, Haechan.” In truth, you had nothing better to do. And maybe you could use this to your advantage. The next part of this stupid challenge was to fuck Jaemin anyways, and what better way than to use his rendezvous spot to do so.

If Haechan was telling the truth.

“We should make out.”

You slide your eyes to his and cock your head, “In your dreams Hyuckie.”

note. let me know your thoughts!!!! i really need feedback in my inbox <3 also, if you want to be on the taglist, comment on this post (if you're in the taglist for the rest of the series, no need to comment)

[absynthe-mind]

I have an nsfw Mortarion request, if that's okay? Kind of like Space Marine Husbandry Sentience but a bit more like 'Mortarion gets isekai'd into a universe where people as tall as primarchs aren't totally unheard of.' He gets taken in by some sweet, gentle woman, 10 ft (approx. 3 m) tall (so... still a few feet/1 m shorter than him XD XD XD) and a creature of swirling skirts and radiant, almost overwhelming, joy - who sees his dark, wild hair, his haunted eyes, his rail-thin frame, the layers of scars on his hands and face, and sees beauty, not terror. Someone who cares for (AND FEEDS) him. Who gives him space and privacy but welcomes him with open doors - and open arms.

He rapidly becomes almost dangerously obsessed - not yandere, but... idk, just Grade-A obsessed. This man is seeking her out just to be around her; slinking into her room like an abused animal daring to seek affection - and receiving it when they ask (and when they don't). Just totally obsessed - though he doesn't always show it like others would, nonetheless his mind is almost constantly on the topic of her. She shows him around her garden, lush and full of animals, flowers, and life. She invites him to nap with her, and after barely a breath, he agrees - so blindly does he trust her, despite himself.

One day, he can hardly help himself, as they're in the garden together. He pins her face down in the garden, under some rose bushes, as they hang heavy with flowers. As he pulls a vial of oil from his pocket to slick himself for her, half expecting her to struggle, he finds instead that she's lifting her hips and practically begging him to have her.

Take it from there, if you so desire! ✨️✨️✨️

Mortarion (Oneshot) - Her Garden, f!reader

Strap in, it's a lonnnggggg one. I didn’t mean it make it this long, I promise, it just sort of kept evolving over multiple writing sessions into this…. It is also extremely indulgent, but what is fanfic for if not indulging?

(Also I love when requests give me loads of direction and show me how much you love a character <3333)

TW: injuries, mental self-degradation, somnophilia, masturbation, dub-con elements, overstimulation, fucking, knot, crying

Taglist: @druidwolf21 , @incrediblethirst , @bookandyarndragonwritesdark , @saintsylestine , @justeverythingnothingelse

The warp was as it always is - unpredictable. 

This time definitely shot every minor time delay out of the park however.

Taking stock of his body is no difficulty, and his outward appearance at least bore no changes. White hair greyed and streaked with reds and browns fell around him in slightly matted chunks. His skin was still ashy and taut with countless scars and frame still gaunt.

Despite the lack of obvious physical change, his body and mind felt tired, weary and feverish, as though he’d spent hours slogging through the worst pits of Barbarus. His lungs were heaving just to keep up.

What was more unusual was his position, splayed out flat across mossy ground, looking up at the underside of gigantic trees, backdropped by a clear evening of a deep midnight blue.

He ought to start moving, to survey his surroundings and make plans to return to the Imperium as fast as possible, but lying on the soft and spongy forest floor, looking up at the sunset and beginning of the night’s sky… he didn’t recognise the stars. Which meant he was very, very far away.

There was no familiar pattern that could be seen in the Milky Way from any angle, so he was in a different galaxy at the very least.

At least he was on a planet that was so far hospitable to basic living conditions, trees grew here, utterly huge as they were, and the rest of the forest looked just as ‘normal’ from his position on the floor, if not a little bigger than average.

There were plentiful plants and he could hear what could be considered ‘average’ woodland creatures, even if everything seemed far larger than usual. Perhaps an overabundance of oxygen creating megafauna, he mused idly, a far cry from a death world in any case.

The air was good here too, clean and fresh. Gulping it down was certainly helping clear his pounding head and heaving lungs. He needed a few minutes of rest and, and he did his best to convince himself it would not be the difference in getting back from what was evidently such a remote place. 

Even though he desperately needed to recover somewhat, the guilt started to gnaw at him. He had a legion to lead, planets to liberate, work to do. Discomfort was a torment he could bear.

Up, get up, start moving. 

There was work to be done.

He is brought from his musings by the distant sound of movement, a large animal, larger yet than the birds and insects he’d heard - but still far away yet. 

That's all it takes to have him on his feet in less than a moment, in protest of his spasming muscles. The world tilts and goes white for a moment for a moment before settling, and then with vision slightly swimming he tries to properly scan his surroundings.

There was every chance that the fauna here was violent, and while unlikely to be deadly to him, they could be potentially very unpleasant to deal with. Especially in his current state.

His whole body tenses as he strains to listen, the creature still too far away to see yet. 

It almost sounds like a human, or at least something walking on two feet, but the weight of the steps is all wrong, too big, too tall - but not heavy enough to be one of his sons or even a brother.

He shifts, deciding that hiding as best he can around a tree is his most optimal choice. Running would get him noticed, and though he stuck out like a sore thumb against the landscape the tree trunks were big enough to at least mostly obscure him.

It was unlikely whatever it was could be much of a threat to him, even weakened as he is, but it would be best to scout before making a decision.

Whatever it was kept walking vaguely towards him, though their current trajectory would pass quite widely by the clearing he landed in. They’re close enough that he can hear far more clearly. 

Footsteps, they are distinctively footsteps. He tries to mentally catalogue what it could possibly be, but thinking hard is becoming more and more torturous, and he’d know soon enough.

It comes into view - and almost throws completely off guard.

The creature was not an eldar or other xeno scum he was expecting, not even a strange two legged animal.

It was a human woman. A very tall woman, but a woman for sure.

She was almost as tall as him, just a few feet short, but taller than any baseline or astartes he’d ever seen or heard of. Couple that with the fact she seemed to be idly strolling through the woods in some form of dress, basket in hand, and he was thoroughly confused.

For a long moment he debates whether or not this is in fact some form of extremely realistic hallucination or dream, but the discomfort of his afflictions is too stark and sharp to be imagined and it just feels so real.

Before he can mentally orient himself, the woman furthers his confusion and starts humming. Nothing intelligible, just some old, sweet sounding song with mumbled words every so often. The type of song he heard the mothers of his village singing to their children oh so long ago.

She seems happy too, joyous - especially so for a lone woman walking alone in a forest on an evening, even if he can’t hear anyone else in the vicinity. Perhaps the wildlife and society here was extremely peaceful.

Or perhaps she was incredibly naive. 

Naive enough to not have noticed him at least, even though he’d sure his attempts at stealth are subpar, and she hasn’t noticed his clumsy trail leading here either.

He’s tempted to call or, or spook her, take advantage of her foolishness to remind her the universe is never kind enough to warrant a loss of vigilance. Something stays him though, perhaps the pounding in his head, or maybe the strange and slightly mesmerising way her skirt swirls and flows around her as she walks without a single care. 

It’s clear when exactly she spots him. 

He tries to edge around the tree so she can’t see him but he can still observe and ends up making a low hiss of pain before he can stop himself.

Her head snaps towards him, the next verse of the song dying on her lips as they pull into a slightly worried frown. Perhaps she was not entirely naive then.

Eyes find his amber ones easily despite the growing darkness and his partially hidden form, sweeping him up and down. He feels more scrutinised than he ever has before, more seen than even when his gene-father looks upon him.

Her gaze pins him in place like he is the animal he thought she was, piercing through his every defense. To his surprise, she doesn’t recoil in shock, in horror at the mere state of him.

He knows he looks more corpse-like than alive, his skin is withered and layered with scars even without the fresh and old blood alike coating him. At the very least he must appear like some deranged, crazed forest murder.

Instead her gaze is a mixture of unexpected things, worry, concern, curiosity, kindness, pity.

She takes a half step towards him, making some gentle soothing sounds with her hands raised in non-agression.

“H-hello - a-are, are you okay?” she questions him with a tilt of her head, stuttering to begin with before finding her resolve as she takes another measured step forwards.

He can understand her - it’s not gothic, no language he can place in spite of his strange implicit understanding, which sends him further spiraling. He knows it will make his life on the planet far easier, but trying to wrap his head around the devolving situation is making his woozy head even more unsettled - and he’s not sure he can afford that in his current state.

‘Are you okay?’, the words bounce around in his head like live ammunition in a raging gunfight, but he makes no move to answer.

She seems to take his silence and lack of action as an invitation as she takes another slow step towards him, bringing her barely more than five meters from him. Another step starts to close the distance further, before she missteps at the sound of a strangled cry.

He looks around in a panic at how he could have missed another sneaking up on them before rather belatedly realising he made the sound. He could never admit it, but no small amount of fear sets in as he begins to comprehend how bad his condition actually is.

At least it stops her in her tracks, but doesn’t scare her off, if anything, she looks more resolved, more concerned.

Her hands slowly come down, reaching into the basket. She pulls out some sort of jerky ration and a bread roll along with a water skin, tentatively offering it out to him with another step forward.

It takes the last dredges of his energy, almost all his effort to keep from laughing. She’s treating him like some scared, wounded animal - like he’s not a primarch. He could snap her in half, he could tear through her throat in barely a split second, he could - 

His hands suddenly meet something hard and wet. The forest floor. 

He can’t breathe. She smells sweet. 

When, when did he - 

She’s looking down at him, right in front of him, food put away. Her hands are warm on his shoulders. He prefers it when she was smiling like earlier, not this semi-pained grimace.

Waking up is strange, but not bad.

He knows something is wrong. Firstly, it’s far, far too soft. Secondly, he is well rested. Thirdly, he’s clean.

The beds in apothecaries station don’t feel like this, they aren’t cozy, warm and they certainly don’t smell intoxicatingly sweet and floral. Theoretically, he needs to wake up and gain a practical understanding of what on Terra is going on, but he can’t bring himself to break the spell he’s under.

He wakes for a second time, soft sunlight warming his face, but it’s not the light that wakes him. Someone is moving near him. 

He sniffs the air. They have food too. 

As though the very thought summoned it, his stomach grumbles. 

The sound is accompanied by stifled laughter. Laughter?

His eyes fly open, remembering the previous day’s events with lightning fast recollection. 

He seems to be in far better condition than when he first arrived at least. Limbs are stiff and heavy, but no more so than usual - importantly his head is no longer pounding and throbbing. The difference in his cognitive ability is frightening when he considers the changes.

Even though he’s only been awake for moments, alertness is immediate for a primarch, which makes the snug warmth and dreamlike quality to waking all the more disconcerting. It has his hairs on end and hackles rising even with the complete lack of threat. 

Sitting takes no effort as he easily props himself up, taking in the whole room at once.

The room is large, which makes sense given the size of the woman who found him. A large arched ceiling with exposed wooden beams supports a variety of hangings, tapestries and plants. 

Sunlight streams in through a window that takes up the majority of the opposing wall, creating some sort of seating space filled with plush looking blankets and pillows, along with a built in shelving space for books. He can just spot some climbing flowers peeking over the windowsill. 

The rest of the room is similarly filled, a colourful weaved rug across warm wooden floors, a dresser with little flowers painted up the sides, even the bed he is in is cozy and blended to the space despite the lack of matching pieces. 

Colourful and mismatched but downy bedding seemed to perfectly fit the half-canopied frame and drapes. The only thing that felt out of place in such a cozy space was him. The contrast of his pale, scarred hands against the duvet setting him apart as an intruder.

His bare skin rubs against the fabric but it doesn’t scratch or irritate, yet it isn’t silken like the bedsheets provided in the palace, it’s simply soft and fluffy. Even though he’s nude, he doesn’t feel exposed while beneath it.

It registers that his skin is clean. Clean of dirt, blood, debris - some of it having likely caked up for weeks now. She must have washed him down while he was asleep, even his hair feels much lighter.

Finally, he allows himself to focus on her, stood in the doorway with a tray of food and a disarming smile. He’s not sure why his body reacts the way it does, stomach tightening and churning slightly, though he reasons it’s likely the combination of the strange situation and the side effects of his strange warp trip. 

It’s different, seeing her in the warm sunlight with an earnest smile. 

He tries to think of her as a serf, an overly enthusiastic, naive serf who is bringing him food.

It helps very little. 

Everything about her screams gentle, kind, from her stance, to her smile, to her eyes.  For a human she’s dizzyingly tall too, putting her on par with his shorter brothers, which also sets her apart in his mind - making her more equal to him.

The way she looks down at him with some unknown emotion is so overwhelming that he feels like squirming in his skin, so he inspects the rest of her more closely in the daylight.

Her dress is changed for a flowing shirt and skirt combination, the shirt a slightly off white and revealing supple collarbones and the tops of her breasts, while the skirt is long and light green, accented by a circular leather and bronze belt.

There is a distinct lack of scars or markings on her skin that grace almost every Imperial citizen. He would accuse her of being a softened noble if not for the slight soil residue, smell of dirt and fact he was quite sure they were still in the forest they’d met in.

Completely lost in the mentally staggering situation, he almost misses when she starts speaking, approaching him with tray outstretched. 

“- hungry? You must be, poor darling. How are you feeling?” he catches the tail end of her sentence, and finds himself flushing at her mothering tone as she comes right over and without further ado deposits the tray in his lap.

It's a decadent meal by any account, some fruits he can’t name already cut up in a bowl with some form of yogurt, a few pastries, and to top it all off three peeled boiled eggs served over some form of grilled, spiced meat. He can’t help but stare at it for a long moment, fully cut up and prepared for him and prepared to eat with ease. A far cry from usual Imperial rations, even those set aside for primarchs. 

He finds himself lacking words, throat dry and face flushing as she lingers near him, adjusting the bedding around him. She raises a hand as if to stroke his hair before pulling it back, clearly thinking better of the endeavour. 

He’s glad she did, because he already feels disconnected and staggeringly out of place just existing in what he can only describe as a homey paradise. He’s never been in a place like it, not in cold deep space, not in the Golden Palace, and certainly not on Barbarous. Just sitting in such a space has him feeling jarred, he doesn’t know how he’d react if she began petting him.

She’s already clearly carried him here, stripped him, washed him somewhat, and put him to bed like an infant. His mortification is tempered by the fact he was unconscious, though the feeling of unease creeps up his chest the more he thinks about how he was so easily incapacitated. 

There are worse fates to be had while alone on an unknown planet in such a state - though he can only wonder what the debt for her services will be, what exactly she’ll be expecting of him.

If it comes to it he could always out run her. She may know that land, but in comparison to him, she has a shorter gait, looks less toned - he’s certain he could escape.

It occurs to him that he really ought to respond, what was it she’d ask him…

‘How are you feeling?’

“I am feeling well now.” his voice is raspy, tone clipped. It’s not a lie, he’s not sure he’s every felt better actually, despite the weariness and high alert his body is on.

He doesn’t ask about anything yet. It’s better to let her broach topics and play his cards close to his chest. Letting her know who he is, where he’s from and more importantly what he’s capable of is not in his best interests. 

Her smile brightens in genuine delight, and his stomach flips uneasily.

“Well that’s good news! You gave me the fright of my life last night you know?” she replies with an easy laugh, “Enough chatter for now - you’d best eat up, I can hardly tell you from skin and bones!”

Her face flashes with relief, even from his curt words, barely even a proper sentence, and she softens again as he simply nods and begins methodically eating - she was unlikely to have poisoned rather than killed him outright, plus any drugs would more than likely be ineffective against him.

“I’ll leave you too it a bit then, don’t worry though, I’ll be back in a moment,” she gives him that gentle smile he’d first seen her with and disappears with a swish of her skirt.

True to your word, you return before he’s finished wolfing down the meal, pile of clothes in hand. His are nowhere to be seen, but the new ones you lay at the end of the bed are too big for you, and the colours are more muted and reminiscent of his.

“I hope you don’t mind, your clothes were in pretty bad shape so I got a hold of some new ones for you. Nothing crazy, simple pants and shirt I’m afraid” you explain, and he looks at them sharply, totalling up the costs you’re wringing from him with these kind smiles and generosities. 

You continue on, not waiting for his reply, “Ah, I almost forgot introductions in the wake of, well everything really! So have you got a name, handsome?”

A wink at the end of your question makes him certain you’re joking with your flirtations, but they still flicker something in his stomach, annoyance perhaps.

“Mortarion.” he states simply.

If it's an odd name for the new planet he’s on you make no mention of it, simply smiling brightly and clapping your hands together.

“A lovely name, well Mortarion, I’ll let you get dressed then we can get you settled in properly - this room can be yours for as long as you want it, mine is just down the hall” you inform him.

That startles him a little, this cosy, intimate space filled with little touches was a guest room? 

He nods curtly. Getting dressed he can do, then the negotiations would begin.

You refused to let him negotiate or pay you in any form.

Not that he had money to pay you with, but seemingly no labour to be done nor any form of exchange he could promise you would be taken. He’d even promised to return with riches once he’d established himself, but you had raised an eyebrow at him in a manner which left him floored and slightly lost for words.

He can’t remember anyone ever treating him so casually.

You’d firmly told him to ask if he needed anything, and to come and go as he pleased.

The obvious conclusion was that you were far too soft for your own good, and that he would have to stay for a little while and repay you somehow.

Days pass much the same after that initial introduction.

He helps with whatever you ask of him, be it chopping ingredients or firewood. You never ask something difficult of him, and always praise him ardently for such a good job.

It confuses him greatly still, these tasks are not difficult ones, no great feat of strength or engineering, and he wagers any baseline could likely complete them with little difficulty. Also, it isn’t like he’s doing you a great favour to earn such praise - he owes you.

You house him, clothe him and feed him for some unfathomable reason, he doesn’t deserve platitudes for doing the bare minimum to somewhat earn his keep with you. He doesn’t deserve the soft smiles that crinkle your eyes.

“Thank you, that’s perfect,” you say, with your eyes locked onto his. 

It makes him weak in the knees because it’s strange, and you shouldn’t act in such a manner. 

Just like the nickname you’d given him, ‘Morty’. 

You call him by it when you call him for a hearty, home cooked dinner, beckoning him to sit with you, and he does.

Every mouthful feels like sin.

He’s taking food from you, he’s not doing anywhere near enough to earn the luxury you give him. A plush room, frequent bathing and food fit for the Emperor.

Guilt bubbles up in his throat and threatens to consume him as he thanks you.

Filling the rest of the day, you both talk, passing the time with an ease he hadn’t expected. You coax stories from him he hadn’t expected to share, and in turn talk about your own life, how you’d ended up in the woodland cottage, your hobbies - everything.

He leaves every night, convinced that he’ll start making proper attempts to return to the Imperium. To return to the work of his father, to the crusade and his legion. He’ll pick up the mantle of the Pale King once more and don his mask. The poisons of Barbarus will feel like home again, not this place.

He comes back every night, wiping off the evidence of his wander through the forest before he enters, knowingly entranced by the life he’s begun here. 

Though he starts up one final routine, one you’re involved in per say, but not aware of.

He’s not sure what starts it, the urge, but one night he slips into your room while you sleep. Despite his primarch hearing, he needs to see you, see you breathing, see you still there, not vanished off into the night like he’s taken to doing.

Every night since that very first time he finds himself in your room, bathed in moonlight and just watching.

The cycle continues: he helps where he’s needed in the day, eats with her, pretends to go to bed, sneaks out telling himself that this is it, and later finds himself in her bedroom, just watching, breathing her in. 

The guilt continues to eat at him, but he slowly stops bothering to leave, not deluding himself further with the idea he can actually stay away. She has him completely hooked, it’s useless to deny it any longer. Instead, he just lets the maelstrom of emotions eat at him until he can’t stand it any longer.

That’s when he ends up in her room for the evening, when those thoughts get too loud and he needs to be near you for them to quieten.

Tonight is no different, the moon casting her room in a pale silvery light that illuminates you like an angel.

You roll, turning slightly and mumbling incoherently. It’s not uncommon for you to do so, and occasionally he catches snippets of words. They range massively between talking of fruit and whispering his own name.

The first time you did so, he panicked so heavily that sweat pooled on his brow and the back of his neck, thinking you’d woken up.

Then when you made no further move, safely asleep, he calmed down and realised you’d simply been dreaming. Of him.

It was natural, natural. 

You lived together, people dreamed of their lives, he was a part of your life. You dreamed of him sometimes. 

Sometimes, when you dreamed of him, when his name tumbled from your lips, he thought you moaned. It was wishful thinking, just hearing you dream of him had his cock half-hard, but when you said it just right, like you were begging him, he would have to leave your room back to his own.

His scrap of cloth was well worn, the crustiness reminding him of how his skin used to be similar, hard and crumbling. Yet it served its purpose. A vial of oil was never something he’d had to keep on hand before.

He never lasted long on the nights when you said his name like that, only a few oil slicked strokes and he was spilling over, murmuring your name just like you’d said his.

The guilt grows worse again then, the clarity that came after washing waves of shame over him as he slips into his own bed for the night. He resolves that on nights like those he wasn’t allowed to go back to your room, that he had to make up for it by working harder the next day too, going the extra mile even if you’d never know why.

You’d tossed and turned a little more than usual tonight, mumbles more frequent but less coherent. 

“Mortarion-” his name tumbles from your lips.

His next breath in is shaky, a slight hiss sounding as he sucks in shallowly.

“Mortarion?” you say, far less sleepy. More panicked, more awake.

“Morty, is that you?” she asks, a slight tinge of fear to her voice as she moves to quickly sit, rubbing her eyes desperately.

You'd woken up.

As desperately as he wants to run, his feet hold him fast to the floor.

“Yes,” he says, fear in his voice echoing yours, fear that you’ll throw him out screaming, “it’s me.”

“Oh.”

You hum, clearly thoroughly awake now.

“Well don’t just stand there, hmm?” she says cheerfully, all hints of fear gone as she scoots over in the bed and lifts half of the covers in a clear invitation to join her.

That’s how a new nightly ritual is born. Not every night, albeit most nights, you go to bed alone and wake up with a large man cuddled right up next to you, silvery hair fanned out around him and a peaceful expression on his face.

You often wake him in the morning with a dollop of moisturiser to the nose, carefully rubbing it into his cracked skin.

It’s early spring when he first arrived, and now in mid-summer he feels like he’s finally finding his footing here.

Though it’s still ‘her home’ to him, no matter how often you correct him that it’s his too for as long as he wants it.

No longer does he sneak out guiltily every night, instead sleeping in his own bed and occasionally slinking into your room, seeking out that affection he’d begun to crave worse than a hive-world addict.

It’s easy to justify in the night, when you’re bleary and half-asleep while you’re inviting him to lay next to you. Now, when you’re both just relaxing in the garden and you beckon him over? His stomach does aerial acrobatics as his feet obey you.

He settles next to you on the cool grass as directed, head tilted slightly while he waits for you to explain.

“It’s such a nice summer day, we really ought to take the rest of it off,” you say to him with an indulgent smile.

Ah, a day off. A novel idea to him at first, but you had insisted on them often, taking full or half days as you pleased, and forcing him to do so too. 

She pulls him down towards her, and he offers no resistance, letting her arrange him until his head is nestled into her lap. He’s glad to be faced away as his cheeks light up in a furious blush.

“Comfy?” she asks, her fingers threading through his hair.

He nods, nuzzling his head into her thighs as he does, and the feeling of his cheek against the soft fabric separating their skin sends tingling through his whole body.

She leans back into the tree behind her, one hand leafing through the book in her hand, the other idly stroking his head and hair. His hair that caught the sun in brilliant shades of silvery grey, hair that was always soft, clean and untangled these days.

The sun beats down on them both, partially shaded by the tree, warmth making his body go completely lax. He doesn’t feel himself drift off to sleep.

Days pass, and he tries to resist, he really, really tries.

You’re alone together again in the garden, a perfect day. Light breeze, shining sun, and chirping birdsong. It was decreed to be a day best spent gardening, so you’d dressed in a skirt you didn’t mind getting a little dirty and dragged him outside.

Then it happened. The scent of your floral perfume and natural musk mingling with the scent of rich earth and roses you were both tending to threatened to overwhelm him, and his cock sprung to life with need.

It wasn’t the first time, of course, but normally he was alone, able to work it out before seeing you again. The need within him was raw and animalistic, made harder by the fact you were kneeling, bent over with your hands on the ground in front of him.

He does try to resist, whole body straining to save the one good thing he has.

He fails miserably, and before his mind knows what his body is doing he’s atop her, body pining hers down completely. She’s oh so soft beneath him, face pressed into the earth, hips up in the air as one of his legs holds both of hers down at the bend of the knee. 

A low moan escapes him that starkly contrasts her cry of shock, and one of his hands snakes into his pockets to pull out the vial of oil he’d taken to keeping. 

His head feels like it’s throbbing, heart pounding as he rips the crotch of his pants wide open and begins pouring a liberal amount of oil over his cock. She wasn’t a baseline who would need significant preparation, but she deserved far more than this even, and certainly not the pain of dry friction. Precum was already leaking from his painfully hard dick as he gave himself a few quick strokes to spread the oil. 

His head buries itself into her shoulder, breathy moans echoing in her ear as he prepares to beg his apologies. He doesn’t expect to be forgiven, he expects to lose everything he’s gained so far and go live exiled into the woods. 

What he doesn’t expect is for her ass to grind into his hips, rubbing desperately against his as her back arches downwards and presents the rest of herself to him. 

“Please, Mortarion, please - I need you” she pleads, and he loses the thin shreds of control he had left. 

She needed him? By the throne…

He pulls himself off her back and rips away the skirt, fabric falling to ribbons beneath his fingers. 

A wild, guttural moan vibrates through him - she isn’t wearing a lick of underwear, presenting her fully exposed slit already glistening beneath him. She was already wet, already slick, for him.

He sinks into her velvety folds without a second thought, and her heat clenching around him is so completely divine that he almost finishes right there. It takes every inch of his strength and control not to, determined to hold on at least a little longer. 

She feels better than he could have ever imagined, and the way she keens as he buries himself within her has his dick twitching inside her before he can even think to start moving. He’s only been in her for seconds and he doesn’t think he could ever live without her warmth, he doesn’t even think he can move from this spot - wrapped completely around her and completely dazed.

It’s not until she starts whining and writhing beneath him, trying to fuck herself on his cock rather fruitlessly that he starts up again. 

He slides, backwards, only a few inches, dragging the length of his cock slowly and deliberately down her sensitive walls, before almost stutteringly thrusting himself back in. 

The clench of her wall around his is more addictive than any high and it elicits sounds from her that would put the choirs of Terra to shame with how heavenly they were. His name over and over on her lips, a sound he would never tire of hearing.

His pace quickens, sloppily pulling out further and further while thrusting with more force in every stroke, every bounce of her body against his punctuated with a wanton cry.

The curve of your ass presses into his abdomen with every stroke, and the soft jiggle sent electric throughout his whole body, sensation starting to overwhelm him as it combined with the myriad of emotions and feelings raging through him.

Like a man possessed he keeps driving his hips into yours, over and over in a frantic rhythm, managing to plunge himself deeper each time. Heavy balls slam into her clit and serve to make her squirm more with the pulsing pattern it creates.

The scent of you drives him to madness as he flattens himself into you, his chest coming flush with your back so he can inhale your hair and feel all of your body against his at the same time.

His arm comes beneath her head, caging her against him and shielding her face from being repeatedly fucked into the dirt any further. Your lips and warm breath against his skin sending tremors through him was only another added bonus.

The other arm comes around underneath, sliding her shirt up and palming at her stomach needily. His fingers claw into her soft flesh, moving further upwards with every grope until he finds her breasts and clumsily latch onto a nipple.

“Yes, yes, there!” you cry out, muffled by his arm as you continue to rock and bounce back into him.

The praise spurs him onwards, rolling your perked nipple in what he hopes and prays is the right way to have you feeling the way he is, though he doubts that he could ever make you feel the way he does right now, on the brink of mentally shattering.

“More, more please!” you whine. 

You want more, you want more, you want him.

“Morty, please, please, I’m going to -” there’s no need for you to finish your sentence as he feels the moment you cum around him, squeezing so tightly he can barely move and making his vision blank with white.

Immediately, he follows suit, shooting ropes straight into you and fucking the cum up further with every thrust. Despite the endless torrents of cum he’s seemingly producing and speed at which he’s still going, very little ends up leaking out. Every drop that does, however, sends him further in to a frenzy, angling himself till he’s fucking harder and deeper.

He’s still pounding her through both of their orgasms when he feels it, something he’s not felt before when jerking into his own hand, his cock is almost burning, throbbing like nothing he’s ever experienced.

It makes him shudder and come to a stop while buried deep inside, gasping and clawing.

When the base of his cock begins swelling, he has absolutely no idea what to do except stay put, sheathed completely inside of you and moaning like a whore still. It swells more and more, inflating like a balloon locking him into you, and he can’t help but feel secretly delighted by this new discovery.

After a long moment, the two of you just lying there, bodies and fluids mingling, she begins coming back to reality somewhat, body twitching beneath him.

She looks down with a heavy lidded gaze, speaking softly, “Honey darling, what is that?”

He has no answer for her, not knowing himself, instead he holds her closer and tucks her head under his before responding, “I-, I don’t know.”

The pleasure that crashed over him and almost consumed his mind and body receded a little as he admitted it, and he thought back on what he’d just done.

Pounding her like a beast isn’t how he wanted to take her, he wanted to woo her, treat her as softly as she ought to be, but when she drools into the arm positioned under her head and still whispers his name like a prayer he can’t bring himself to care.

A little bit of hope blossomed in his chest. 

Maybe, just maybe, you’d let him stay, let him treat you properly.

He shifts slightly, resting his weight onto her without crushing her, letting him inhale her scent deeply and relax slightly. The knot stays firmly lodged, shooting waves of residual pleasure through his core.

Guilt still gnaws at him slightly as he reminds himself of who he is. You, a sweet, beautiful, divine thing were trapped against him, trapped against a monster - a beast.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers hoarsely, shame welling up in his throat.

You tilt your head back around to look at him like he’s certifiably insane, and then manage to slur out words that sound like, ‘What for?’

There’s a look of pure bliss and innocence on your face that sharply contradicts the position you’re both in. The way you look at him like a man, not a primarch, not the pale king, just seeing straight into him and staying, letting him stay has him breaking down into tears.

They stream down his face hot and fast, dripping onto your back at an alarming rate. He can barely see through the bleary, watery film they create over his eyes.

It’s difficult for her to reach around and comfort him with the position the knot holds her in, but she somehow manages to caress his face and wipe away the bulk of tears while hushing him gently.

“Hushh, none of that, you did so well, you’re doing good for me, honey,” you gently reassure him, but the words only serve to make his chest shake with choked sobs.

Her fingers give up on clearing the tears and instead brush against his face, then his neck, trailing down to his torso as she traces simple shapes and swirls into his skin until he calms a little.

“What am I going to do with you, hmmm?” she teases, but her tone is so light and gentle that it feels like she’s making a promise, “I think that I’m going to have to take you home, wash you up and cuddle you all night long. Now how does that sound?”

‘Like heaven’, he wants to reply.

Instead, he simply nods, dropping his face into the crook of her neck and letting the tears run out.

Some time later, she stays true to her word, gently disconnecting from him and leading him back up to the house with a dopey smile on her face and a hand firmly grasping his.

He could get used to this, very used to this.

And maybe, just maybe, he can stay forever too.

[smehur]

Drarry fic recs #5

oxygen [Fic & Art] by @maesterchill

Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe.

A wonderfully atmospheric rendering of the moment when the tentative friendship hesitantly built through years of unplanned meetings gently turns into a deeper, romantic intimacy. Featuring a lovely, lonely Draco and an incredibly evocative description of the magic hiding in cigarette smoke. 10/10 would read again.

AITA for being "obsessed" with my childhood nemesis? by @rainstormradish

Alrakis • I [24M] attended a small boarding school in the UK. There was a boy in my year, a couple of months younger than me, and he became my nemesis after we developed an intense rivalry. My friend [25F] told me recently that our dynamic was "weird back then" and that "it’s even weirder" that I still think about him today. She argued that I talk about him all the time, but I believe the amount I talk about him is reasonable. AITA? prongymcprongface • i completely get what you mean. i had a nemesis (like a school one, separate to my other nemesis) and we had a dynamic super similar to what you are describing. having a nemesis is a very cool and normal thing dw about it. NTA In which Draco asks the internet if he's being reasonable. Only one commenter is sympathetic. They start talking.

This was so much fun to read, I don't even. A brilliant concept, flawless execution, and bonus points for Draco's online name. ✨👌

For Lack of Wanting by @fluxweeed

Over the last ten years, I’ve worked hard to become a better person. I hate being reminded of who I used to be. But Harry likes it when I’m mean.

I loved this even though it broke my heart. Perhaps because (like with other fics that successfully broke my heart), I could totally see it: a Harry who grows into his fame, a Harry who doesn't look under the surface of things unless forced, a Harry who never spared a serious thought about Draco after the war. And a Draco desperate enough to throw everything away for him anyway. Beautifully crafted and utterly devastating.

By the Grace by @letteredlettered

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Oh, boy. This fic. It left a mark on me. It's the second most literary fic I've read to date (topmost being Running on Air by eleventy7), and by far the most ambitious one. That summary doesn't begin to do it justice. It's a story about the initiative to reveal the wizarding world to the Muggles; the political struggles of those for and against it, including activism, media manipulation, government corruption, and even terrorism; and Harry and Draco in the midst of it all. I also suspect it's brimming with commentary on real life UK politics, but I'm too distant from those topics myself to say more. It is for this ambition, and for the the meticulous creation of a detailed post-war political landscape and the actors trying to shape it, that I wholeheartedly applaud and recommend this fic. Anyone looking for an adult, thought-provoking, political story perfectly set within the Harry Potter world will have an absolute blast with it.

But I can't say I enjoyed it. I picked it up not for the politics, but for the romance. And the romance, while definitely an omnipresent element, was kept so deep in the background, that the reading was an exercise in frustration almost to the very end. This was done purposely, with incredible consistency and discipline, and to great effect, in order to craft the slowest of slow burns. But I, like a kid bored with the things on the news, skimmed through the lot of political discussions (which are what gives the story such a strong literary vibe), constantly looking for the individual, the personal, the relatable; constantly hoping for the feels. And when they came to the fore at last, it was a bit too little, too late.

As much as I admire its ambition and craftsmanship, this is not a story I would read again. But I will never, ever forget it.

Nice Things by aideomai

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

Possibly the softest, gentlest, most soothing story I've read in this fandom so far. Something to come back to when my spirits need a lift. There's a scene (spoiler: it asks and answers the question, "are you fucking with me?") that I read three or four times in a row, smiling wider and wider on each go, and another (someone returning after holidays) that i had to revisit at least twice. This doesn't happen often in my reading! I confess I wished for a more detailed exploration of the developing intimacy (read: smut), but I respect the author's decisions; they left me with a heart full of warmth and a head full of dreams.

Many thanks to the wonderful authors in this fandom for sharing their stories, and to all the readers who help spread the word. ❤️

[nariism]

a/n: fwb zhongli who catches feelings for you and mopes when it's time for you to part ways bc me and art said so. suggestive obv but nothing blatantly nsfw

You've become sort of a sore topic for Zhongli.

No, not because you've rejected him in any way. Not even because he's trying to avoid catching feelings for you. Quite the opposite, actually.

He doesn't know what you are. He doesn't know if he means anything to you below the surface.

Sure, the flings were fun—distracting, even, when he was stressed from work. You were only meant to be a good time outside of work which Childe so earnestly encouraged him to find. And you were for the most part wonderful company even when he wasn't tangled in bedsheets with you.

The problem is that he was falling hard and fast, and he's almost positive the sentiment isn't shared.

"You're going out again?" Hu Tao asks as she peers into his office. He's packing up his belongings and shoving your favourite snacks into his bag.

"Yes, does that concern you, Director?"

"Yeesh," she hisses. "Cold. Haven't you two made it official yet?"

"No."

"And that's because...?" She trails off, awaiting some sort of explanation. It's been months after all. Months. Frankly, she's tired of watching Zhongli do this back and forth without making any actual advances outside of... well.

She coughs when he doesn't provide any answer. "Are you going to?"

The man only sighs, frustrated with himself or with the Director, he can't tell anymore. And again, he tells her:

"No."

She shakes her head. He's utterly hopeless.

"My, you sure do know a lot about Glaze Lilies."

Zhongli's fingers twitch and he recoils from you. The flower he placed behind your ear shimmers in the glow of lanterns, sparkling like diamond itself is sprouting from your hair. You look so breathtaking, he thinks. Could he tell you that? Probably not.

Ah, he must have been rambling without realizing. A bad habit that he has yet to kick. It must bore you to death.

"An old friend of mine used to love them," he tells you. "My apologies for going off on a tangent."

"No, no," you wave him off, a smile spreading across your face—warm and welcoming. For a moment he believes that you're looking at him with something more. "It's alright. I like listening to you talk."

"You... do?" He questions.

"Why wouldn't I?"

He opens his mouth like he has an answer but it quickly snaps shut. Yes, why wouldn't you? He's surprised that you haven't lost interest in him yet simply because he's a talktative walking history book, yet simultaneously relieved that you haven't left his side.

There's zero dishonesty evident in your expression, nor is there any sign that you genuinely want him to stop blathering. But the time has come to leave you anyway. If only the night could be as lasting as his growing feelings for you.

The winding streets of Liyue have lead you back to your front porch. It must be well into the night—hardly anyone is around. The shops have all packed up and closed down for the day and even the croaking of frogs has quieted down.

You turn slightly, glancing at the welcoming entrace of your home. "So... this is it."

"Home."

"Home," you echo.

"When will I see you next?"

You laugh, seemingly amused by his formality. "Whenever you'd like, Zhongli."

A long silence settles over you as you watch each other. Your eyes bore into his intensely, as if searching for something in them. With the distance between you, he can't make out exactly what it is that you're thinking.

You turn to leave and it's a familiar, gut-wrenching feeling. The sight of you leaving him: sometimes draped in nothing but his bedsheets and others like this. And for some reason, this version bothers him infinitely more.

It's pathetic that he mopes about it, feels like a kicked puppy now that your date (if you could even call it that) has ended. The uncertainty of having you means that it could be the last time he holds your gaze, or it could be just be the beginning of your story.

He wants you. He knows he does. Would it be selfish to ask you to be his? Does he have that right?

Just as he's about to leave you at your door, once he knows you've gotten safely there, your voice calls out to him.

"Actually, do you want to walk around a bit longer?" You freeze, looking surprised at your own suggestion before continuing. "I-I know it's quite late but..."

He holds his breath. But?

"But... I just want to hear your voice a little longer."

It's a silly reason, he knows. It's even worse how giddy he feels inside, acting like a child having a crush on someone. He's certain you can see the melting of his expression, eyes impossibly soft.

The realization strikes him down like lightning. Oh. How could he have not realized? Had he been so busy worrying about how to move on from you while you were still in his bed that he missed the way you purposefully lingered around a little longer? That you were always the one asking him when he was free?

He chuckles—to you or at himself, he isn't sure. "Of course."

When you close the distance between your bodies, he offers you his hand with a blooming smile. He can't help admiring you under the warm lights of the harbour. You take it without question and don't let go. He doesn't either.

"Where was I?"

"You were telling me about why they only blossom under moonlight," you ponder. You're not very subtle with the way you scoot your body closer into his side and how you try to nimbly interlock your fingers, but he doesn't mind.

He had been blind this long. He would be remiss if he were to let the opportunity slip.

"Ah, yes." Zhongli squeezes your hand as you walk. "I should tell you of this old legend."

There's an uncontrollable joy in his heart when he realizes that, indeed, it is only the beginning of a long tale.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[stuckinabookorsomething]

Author note: got this idea while watching bridgerton and pulling for wrio in genshin. I believe in lore nobility titles are no longer common but I had a vision of a bridgerton season x wriothesley quick fic.

First fic, no proofing just me writing this while wine drunk watching caseoh, honestly just a jumble of thoughts may actually write at some point, but just need my ideas out there.

Enjoy

Events like these were never really Y/N’s thing. Itchy dresses, entertaining boring men and the same conversations over and over again. No matter who the “fine” gentleman was, the same topics would be discussed. And yet despite Y/N’s persistent protests, her step mother insisted this season she must find a suitable bachelor otherwise she would be casted as an old maid, too old to marry, there to only watch as her younger sisters find suitable husbands and start families of their own, or settle with the first man her mother can find, an older lord, old enough to be her grandfather, but hopefull thanks to Y/N’s wonderful banter (topics not suitable for a young lady such as herself) that older gentleman certainly would look elsewhere.

Lady Y/N was currently standing against the wall of the ballroom of a weathly noble’s home. Lady Y/N pleaded not to go to the event tonight, but her step mother insisted that Y/N’s sister would receive a marriage proposal by the following morning, so the family would go to the masquerade dance to support her sister. Just was lady Y/N wanted to do, not read or explore Fontaine, but socialize with a bunch of mystery men of nobility. Fortunately, as lady Y/N was hiding against the wall, everyone seemed to ignore her presence. Or so she thought.

“I see you also are against socialization” a voice suddenly appears next to lady Y/N. Bringing her back to reality. Lady Y/N turns to see a gentleman standing next to her, his features hidden behind her black mask, preventing her from knowing what stuffy noble man was attempting to talk to her.

“Yes.” Lady Y/N says, crossing her arms and staring off into the crowd.

“And I take that you don’t want to be here.”

“What gave that away?”

“You are the only woman here not out socializing with the ton. Most women would be throwing them selves to any man that looks her way, due to the secrecy of the masks, such ladies can act any way they want without judgement from society.” The man states looking at Y/N, her blue eyes pericinf through the mask.

“I suppose you are right. I mean, this whole thing is utterly pointless. Ladies throwing themselves at men hoping for a proposal, while the man is living the high life. All women want him making him feel like he was on top on the world. It’s a mock of everything I know.”

“Some bold claims there miss. Sounds like someone has a bit of a backdown and some self respect. Impressive.”

“My claims may be bold but they are true. I mean do you think you can form a decent bond with someone while only having a few small exchanges knowing that the lady you would be marrying was trying to sell herself to every single ‘gentleman’ at this event?”

“I suppose you are right. Still a lady shouldn’t boldly claim her views to a hidden stranger.”

“I quite frankly do not care, sir.”

“Fair enough.”

Lady Y/N looks at the crowd, her eyes land on her step mother, staring at her with a glare indicating she wants Y/N to socialize in the crowd like a proper lady, sighing she pushes herself off the wall.

“Wait.” Y/n looks back at the man. Still leaning against the wall. “Care to dance miss?”

“Excuse me? Did you not listen to anything I said over the past 5 minutes?”

“I did. But I also see that lady over there. Her glare is intense. So do you care to dance?” The stranger extends his hand, offering to lead her to the floor.

Lady Y/N looks back at her step mother. Sighing she takes his hand allowing him to lead her to the floor to waltz. “Fair warning, I’m not the most graceful with dancing.”

“Me either.” The stanger looks bad, at the older lady, her eyes still following the two of you. “Do you know that lady in the blue mask? She is watching you like a hawk watching its prey.”

“Yes. My stepmother. She has intentions on arranging me to marry some older lord so I should not be socializing with others like this. And my presence here is to be a support for my sister, who may receive a proposal tomorrow pending tonight runs according to plan. But oh well, too late now.”

“I see, so you are betrothed then?” The stranger asks, the sudden closeness of the waltz makes Y/N realize just how blue his eyes really are. “Such a pity.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere sir. And no not if I have anything to do with it, I refuse to marry that old man, I mean he is my grandfather’s age for the archons’s sake.”

As the songs concludes, the bell chimes, indicating the end of the event.

Lady Y/N bows. “Thank you for the dance. I wish you the best in finding a lovely lady. I bid the a good night.” Y/N quickly turns and leaves the floor, leaving the stranger alone on the floor.

“Goodnight fair miss.” As the crowd clears out, the stranger chuckles to himself, removing his mask he walks up to the Judge of Fontaine, his old friend. “Neuvilette? A word, what do you know about that miss in black dress. Surly you can recognize most of your people with and without such simple face coverings.”

“If I recall correctly that would be Lady Y/N L/N. She is the eldest child of Lord L/N and his Kate wife. She is an interesting character to say the least. From what I can recall she studied at the academia in Sumeru and recently returned back to her family’s estate. Bright girl, I heard she considered applying for a position within the courts, thought I am not sure if the noble society would see that as a smart idea.”

“I see. Now our conversation makes sense.”

“I surely hope she did not offend you, Your Grace. I’m quite familiar with her father and step mother, need to to say something?”

“Nah. I actually quite enjoyed my conversation with her. Made leaving the fortress worth while. Have a great night Neuvilette.”

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

The following day lady Y/N was pracringing her swordsmanship in the estate’s back garden. She can hear the sounds of someone approaching her family”s estate. Must be the suitor for her sister. Though Y/N can not understand how her sister is happy, she hopes this marriage gives her sister everything she could ask for and more. Shaking her head she returns to her sword. Striking the target once more. Y/N continues for a while till she her the annoying voice of her step mother calling her name. Must be time to meet the new brother in law. Lady Y/N tosses her sword to the ground sighing she heads inside. However when she arrives to the main calling room, her sister is no where to be scene. Instead her step mothers is there, forcing a smile.

“You called?”

“Y/N. Have you make his grace, duke wriothesley before?” Her step mother gestures to the man sitting on the couch. The man stood out like a sore thumb in the brightly decorated room. His dark hair with white streak and dark black, grey and red jacket looks odd in the bright yellow room her step mother’s is loved so dearly.

“She may not remember me, but we had an enlightens conversation last night.” The baritone voice that comes from the man echos inside Y/N’s mind, the voice soundly strangely familiar but not very known. “Sow thought about society and norms? Ring a bell?”

Y/N eyes widen, of course the one man she spoke to last night and boldly claimed her views would be the highest ranking noble in attendance. She really should have learned to watch her mouth by now. “Yes I do recall. Are you here to visit my sister? Shall I fetch her?”

“No Lady Y/N’s. I spoke to you step mother and she said it should be fine, but may we go for a walk in your garden?” The duke asks, the same piercing blue eyes standing out more now that y/n can fully she his face, a scar sitting just below his eye somehow makes his eyes stand out even more.

“Sure your grace, that sounds umm, wonderful.”

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

“Your family’s estate is lovely, lady Y/N. The gardens are magnificent.”

Y/N stops mid walk, surly they are far from little spies such as annoying siblings and ladies that work for her stepmother. “I’m sorry, but what are you doing here? How did you find me? I didn’t give you my name”

“Neuvilette knows his people quite well. I simply needed to see you again Lady Y/N’s.”

“I see. Look clearly you didn’t listen to my conversation. I’m not just any other lady in the-“

“I listened . That’s why I am here. You said most ladies throw themselves at the gentleman, which is true, except for one. You are an educated lady who wants to work within the court system, you are quite different. Tell me what do you know about the fortress?”

“Well, the fortress elves as the prison of Fontaine, allowing for its residents to be rehabilitated serving out their punishments in a more society format rather than traditional prisons, with you as duke and warden.”

“Correct. The fortress involves a special kind a governing, different from the dukes you have on the surface. It takes someone who is determined, educated and a little bold. Sound familiar?”

“Yes, your grace. I’m sorry,-“

“Y/N, I understand your reservations, but I am also doing this to help. That old lord is on his way as we speak, you really don’t have any other options.” Wriothesley reaches into his pocket pulling out a small box. He hands to Y/N. Y/n stands there holding the small box, the weight strangely heavy. Thought that may be from the weight of the subject matter. The last thing Y/N wanted to be was a trouphy wife, there to only make her husband seem better. Y/N looks at the road to her house seeing the older lord approaching, the reality of the situation hitting hard. Both choices weren’t ideal in her eyes, one seeming having a better chance for a decent life than the other. Still all she knew about rhe man who just gave her an engagement ring was his name and where he worked/lived. Surly not enough to agree to marrying. Though if she had to spread the rest of her life with someone, wriothesley did have a better appearing the the lord who looked as if he existed since the founding of Fontaine. Sighing she looks back to wriothesley, her eyes wide n panic or fear. Closing her eyes she takes a deep breath before turning her attention back to wriothesley.

“You even have a ring, your Grace.”

“I do.”

“I’m not going to be a trophy wife. I have my own expectations.”

“And we can discuss them at a later point Y/N. I promise. But you really should hurry, before she comes to grab you.” Y/N looks back at the estate, her step mother smiling walking to the garden with the lord.”

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

Sitting in the main calling room, your new fiancé talking amicably with your younger siblings about the wonders on being a duke, minus the whole prisoner aspect of it. You on the other hand like before watch from afar, leaning against the wall looking out the window as the old load leaves the estate, his attempts to propose to you were quickly shot down by your fiancé, to which the old man turned to your sister, which of course your step mother shot down immediately. You look at the ring wriothesley placed on your finger, it was simple which you loved, a ruby gem set neatly in the center matching wriothesley color pallet perfectly, and perhaps the fortress as a whole. There were still a lot of things left unanswered given that you maybe talked to your fiancé a total of 7 minutes, but you had an entire lifetime to figure out each other.

Luckily future private conversation should explain te expectations better than ones with family.

Your fiancé laughs at something your father says, look back to you hennold out his hand inviting you to join him in the conversation, you can’t help but smile, seems he already understood that you were to be equals in this partnership.

Author note: got this idea while watching bridgerton and pulling for wrio in genshin. I believe in lore nobility titles are no longer common but I had a vision of a bridgerton season x wriothesley quick fic.

First fic, no proofing just me writing this while wine drunk watching caseoh, honestly just a jumble of thoughts may actually write at some point, but just need my ideas out there.

Enjoy

Events like these were never really Y/N’s thing. Itchy dresses, entertaining boring men and the same conversations over and over again. No matter who the “fine” gentleman was, the same topics would be discussed. And yet despite Y/N’s persistent protests, her step mother insisted this season she must find a suitable bachelor otherwise she would be casted as an old maid, too old to marry, there to only watch as her younger sisters find suitable husbands and start families of their own, or settle with the first man her mother can find, an older lord, old enough to be her grandfather, but hopefull thanks to Y/N’s wonderful banter (topics not suitable for a young lady such as herself) that older gentleman certainly would look elsewhere.

Lady Y/N was currently standing against the wall of the ballroom of a weathly noble’s home. Lady Y/N pleaded not to go to the event tonight, but her step mother insisted that Y/N’s sister would receive a marriage proposal by the following morning, so the family would go to the masquerade dance to support her sister. Just was lady Y/N wanted to do, not read or explore Fontaine, but socialize with a bunch of mystery men of nobility. Fortunately, as lady Y/N was hiding against the wall, everyone seemed to ignore her presence. Or so she thought.

“I see you also are against socialization” a voice suddenly appears next to lady Y/N. Bringing her back to reality. Lady Y/N turns to see a gentleman standing next to her, his features hidden behind her black mask, preventing her from knowing what stuffy noble man was attempting to talk to her.

“Yes.” Lady Y/N says, crossing her arms and staring off into the crowd.

“And I take that you don’t want to be here.”

“What gave that away?”

“You are the only woman here not out socializing with the ton. Most women would be throwing them selves to any man that looks her way, due to the secrecy of the masks, such ladies can act any way they want without judgement from society.” The man states looking at Y/N, her blue eyes pericinf through the mask.

“I suppose you are right. I mean, this whole thing is utterly pointless. Ladies throwing themselves at men hoping for a proposal, while the man is living the high life. All women want him making him feel like he was on top on the world. It’s a mock of everything I know.”

“Some bold claims there miss. Sounds like someone has a bit of a backdown and some self respect. Impressive.”

“My claims may be bold but they are true. I mean do you think you can form a decent bond with someone while only having a few small exchanges knowing that the lady you would be marrying was trying to sell herself to every single ‘gentleman’ at this event?”

“I suppose you are right. Still a lady shouldn’t boldly claim her views to a hidden stranger.”

“I quite frankly do not care, sir.”

“Fair enough.”

Lady Y/N looks at the crowd, her eyes land on her step mother, staring at her with a glare indicating she wants Y/N to socialize in the crowd like a proper lady, sighing she pushes herself off the wall.

“Wait.” Y/n looks back at the man. Still leaning against the wall. “Care to dance miss?”

“Excuse me? Did you not listen to anything I said over the past 5 minutes?”

“I did. But I also see that lady over there. Her glare is intense. So do you care to dance?” The stranger extends his hand, offering to lead her to the floor.

Lady Y/N looks back at her step mother. Sighing she takes his hand allowing him to lead her to the floor to waltz. “Fair warning, I’m not the most graceful with dancing.”

“Me either.” The stanger looks bad, at the older lady, her eyes still following the two of you. “Do you know that lady in the blue mask? She is watching you like a hawk watching its prey.”

“Yes. My stepmother. She has intentions on arranging me to marry some older lord so I should not be socializing with others like this. And my presence here is to be a support for my sister, who may receive a proposal tomorrow pending tonight runs according to plan. But oh well, too late now.”

“I see, so you are betrothed then?” The stranger asks, the sudden closeness of the waltz makes Y/N realize just how blue his eyes really are. “Such a pity.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere sir. And no not if I have anything to do with it, I refuse to marry that old man, I mean he is my grandfather’s age for the archons’s sake.”

As the songs concludes, the bell chimes, indicating the end of the event.

Lady Y/N bows. “Thank you for the dance. I wish you the best in finding a lovely lady. I bid the a good night.” Y/N quickly turns and leaves the floor, leaving the stranger alone on the floor.

“Goodnight fair miss.” As the crowd clears out, the stranger chuckles to himself, removing his mask he walks up to the Judge of Fontaine, his old friend. “Neuvilette? A word, what do you know about that miss in black dress. Surly you can recognize most of your people with and without such simple face coverings.”

“If I recall correctly that would be Lady Y/N L/N. She is the eldest child of Lord L/N and his Kate wife. She is an interesting character to say the least. From what I can recall she studied at the academia in Sumeru and recently returned back to her family’s estate. Bright girl, I heard she considered applying for a position within the courts, thought I am not sure if the noble society would see that as a smart idea.”

“I see. Now our conversation makes sense.”

“I surely hope she did not offend you, Your Grace. I’m quite familiar with her father and step mother, need to to say something?”

“Nah. I actually quite enjoyed my conversation with her. Made leaving the fortress worth while. Have a great night Neuvilette.”

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The following day lady Y/N was pracringing her swordsmanship in the estate’s back garden. She can hear the sounds of someone approaching her family”s estate. Must be the suitor for her sister. Though Y/N can not understand how her sister is happy, she hopes this marriage gives her sister everything she could ask for and more. Shaking her head she returns to her sword. Striking the target once more. Y/N continues for a while till she her the annoying voice of her step mother calling her name. Must be time to meet the new brother in law. Lady Y/N tosses her sword to the ground sighing she heads inside. However when she arrives to the main calling room, her sister is no where to be scene. Instead her step mothers is there, forcing a smile.

“You called?”

“Y/N. Have you make his grace, duke wriothesley before?” Her step mother gestures to the man sitting on the couch. The man stood out like a sore thumb in the brightly decorated room. His dark hair with white streak and dark black, grey and red jacket looks odd in the bright yellow room her step mother’s is loved so dearly.

“She may not remember me, but we had an enlightens conversation last night.” The baritone voice that comes from the man echos inside Y/N’s mind, the voice soundly strangely familiar but not very known. “Sow thought about society and norms? Ring a bell?”

Y/N eyes widen, of course the one man she spoke to last night and boldly claimed her views would be the highest ranking noble in attendance. She really should have learned to watch her mouth by now. “Yes I do recall. Are you here to visit my sister? Shall I fetch her?”

“No Lady Y/N’s. I spoke to you step mother and she said it should be fine, but may we go for a walk in your garden?” The duke asks, the same piercing blue eyes standing out more now that y/n can fully she his face, a scar sitting just below his eye somehow makes his eyes stand out even more.

“Sure your grace, that sounds umm, wonderful.”

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

“Your family’s estate is lovely, lady Y/N. The gardens are magnificent.”

Y/N stops mid walk, surly they are far from little spies such as annoying siblings and ladies that work for her stepmother. “I’m sorry, but what are you doing here? How did you find me? I didn’t give you my name”

“Neuvilette knows his people quite well. I simply needed to see you again Lady Y/N’s.”

“I see. Look clearly you didn’t listen to my conversation. I’m not just any other lady in the-“

“I listened . That’s why I am here. You said most ladies throw themselves at the gentleman, which is true, except for one. You are an educated lady who wants to work within the court system, you are quite different. Tell me what do you know about the fortress?”

“Well, the fortress elves as the prison of Fontaine, allowing for its residents to be rehabilitated serving out their punishments in a more society format rather than traditional prisons, with you as duke and warden.”

“Correct. The fortress involves a special kind a governing, different from the dukes you have on the surface. It takes someone who is determined, educated and a little bold. Sound familiar?”

“Yes, your grace. I’m sorry,-“

“Y/N, I understand your reservations, but I am also doing this to help. That old lord is on his way as we speak, you really don’t have any other options.” Wriothesley reaches into his pocket pulling out a small box. He hands to Y/N. Y/n stands there holding the small box, the weight strangely heavy. Thought that may be from the weight of the subject matter. The last thing Y/N wanted to be was a trouphy wife, there to only make her husband seem better. Y/N looks at the road to her house seeing the older lord approaching, the reality of the situation hitting hard. Both choices weren’t ideal in her eyes, one seeming having a better chance for a decent life than the other. Still all she knew about rhe man who just gave her an engagement ring was his name and where he worked/lived. Surly not enough to agree to marrying. Though if she had to spread the rest of her life with someone, wriothesley did have a better appearing the the lord who looked as if he existed since the founding of Fontaine. Sighing she looks back to wriothesley, her eyes wide n panic or fear. Closing her eyes she takes a deep breath before turning her attention back to wriothesley.

“You even have a ring, your Grace.”

“I do.”

“I’m not going to be a trophy wife. I have my own expectations.”

“And we can discuss them at a later point Y/N. I promise. But you really should hurry, before she comes to grab you.” Y/N looks back at the estate, her step mother smiling walking to the garden with the lord.”

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Sitting in the main calling room, your new fiancé talking amicably with your younger siblings about the wonders on being a duke, minus the whole prisoner aspect of it. You on the other hand like before watch from afar, leaning against the wall looking out the window as the old load leaves the estate, his attempts to propose to you were quickly shot down by your fiancé, to which the old man turned to your sister, which of course your step mother shot down immediately. You look at the ring wriothesley placed on your finger, it was simple which you loved, a ruby gem set neatly in the center matching wriothesley color pallet perfectly, and perhaps the fortress as a whole. There were still a lot of things left unanswered given that you maybe talked to your fiancé a total of 7 minutes, but you had an entire lifetime to figure out each other.

Luckily future private conversation should explain te expectations better than ones with family.

Your fiancé laughs at something your father says, look back to you hennold out his hand inviting you to join him in the conversation, you can’t help but smile, seems he already understood that you were to be equals in this partnership.

[aka-libby]

Counting Our Regrets

Aki Hayakawa x gn!reader | established relationship | semi-canon  [ domestic tooth rotting!fluff + angst (with happy ending/comfort) ]

Word count: 4.3k

Warning(s): mentions/implied topic of de*th, insecurities about love, VERY BRIEF mentions about rough past regarding home life

Summary: Aki hated you at first but after a series of events his view on you changed. Now you’re together as a couple, with the regrets of wasting all that time hating and being avoidant of the inevitable spark you had. Yet even with these regrets on the both of you, it’s when you’re in his apartment having dinner like any other night that he finally realized how he truly feels about you.

A/N: So I have a story in the WIP folder that explains their past and how they became the couple here in this fic. There is a LOT to unfold and it’s honestly a drain to write angst and pain all the time SOOOOO I would write this fic when I’m bored and somehow I finish this one first…. so now here we are. I do hope it’s not confusing but hints enough context for readers to understand the development of the two. Plus I’m WAYYYYY too impatient to wait to post this cause I’m so PROUD OF IT UGH.

Anyways enjoy.

“Is it weird that I still get a bit nervous every time he invites me over for dinner?”

Your friend laughs over the phone. “Really?! It’s been so long now. Just breathe and treat it like any other time you guys are together.”

You’re glaring at them, even though they can’t see it. “I’m serious. You know how the past was, we hated each other… well he hated me. I don’t blame him though, it was in every way my fault for how things are but… still.” 

Your friend probably heard the change in your tone towards the end. The mischievous aura drips from them. “I understand but the situation has changed now. You stopped being a lil brat and he realized the amazing person that you are underneath it. He fell for you instantly, I see it and am reminded of it everyday when I see you two in the same room.”

“Really?” You are curious now about what they meant. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t see it?” The utter disbelief from their tone surprises you more. “The way he looks at you speaks millions. Like a moth lured to a bright ass light. I believe it.”

You smile as your chest lightens from the doubts slipping off you. Their words really eased your mind. “That’s… cute.” Images of Aki flash in your mind of all the times he would get embarrassed when caught showing any form of affection. “He’s really sweet.”

“He is and it is cute but also utterly revolting.” They gag through the phone. “You two are so lovesick for one another and yet SOOOO oblivious at the same time. My eyes get cavities from seeing you two within the same radius.”

The both of you chuckle a bit before they bids their farewell. “Now go in and enjoy the dinner, okay? Tell me more about it later.”

“I will. See you soon.” You say before ending the call.

The grip on the plastic bags you have to your side tightens as you take a deep breath in and out. You know more than anyone this night will be just like any other night. Just a casual dinner with 2 co-workers/friends and your boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

Your lips form into a soft smile as the title lingers in your head. It feels too surreal to be together now after a year of discord between you and Aki. Then a time period of uncertainty of what kind of relationship you guys had. It was the result of the change with his thoughts about you and your thoughts about life. With Himeno’s death being the catalyst to it all.

It doesn’t help that both of you have gone through great suffering revolving around death. Life is unfair to both of you. His family was taken away so suddenly by a worldwide Devil attack while yours…

Agh, the thought hurts too much to think about.

Even with all the hurt, pain, and self projecting in denial of the truth of it all you two somehow ended up here, together. It made you happy to realize that after so long but so late. With time still ticking every single second, it’s only sooner than later that both your lives could end so suddenly.

With Aki’s time limit down to 2 years and yours still in the air, anything could happen at any moment. It was hard carrying the regret of projecting your trauma and fear of abandonment to the relationships around you. How you pushed others away to protect them and yourself. It wasn’t fair to you or your comrades.

They never got to meet the real you.

Your thoughts are cut from the feral screech coming from behind Aki’s door. You know all too well who it was, and you smile softly from the moment, as it reminds you to be present in the present. No time to dwell on your regrets, it will only waste more of your limited time.

You are with Aki now, that’s all that matters.

Finally, you take the last few steps over to Aki’s door. Knuckles barely hovering over the door before it’s busted open.

Power cheers out your name as she pulls you in for a half hug, arm over your shoulder. Her eyes don’t meet yours, instead they’re on the bags at your sides. “You brought food for me?! I'm STARVIN.” 

“Hey!” a familiar voice echoes from inside. “That’s no way to treat guests!”

Power is quick to nag back at him with a roll of her eyes before taking the bags out of your hands. “Allow me!” She excitedly offers but you know there are other intentions behind her kindness. Your head shakes from her obvious facade.

Walking into the Hayakawa Residence, you instantly envelop yourself in the comforting feeling of your second home. The smell of the three housemates and the aroma of home cooked food wafts into your nose causing your previous insecurities to flee. Is this what it's like to be at ease? You’re pretty sure it is by how safe you feel once the door closes behind you.

Turning around the corner, you see Aki casually stirring a mixture of veggies in a savory sauce in a wok. It instantly waters your mouth. “Hi Love.” You greet walking over to where he is in front of the stovetop.

It was then you realize what your friend’s comment meant earlier, about how Aki looks at you. His eyes instantly shine with adoration and his body is fully turned towards you, letting go of whatever he was focused on to meet you halfway. Once you’re within his grasp, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head.

“Hello love, was the trip here okay? I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up.” He apologizes before rubbing your back soothingly.

Shaking your head to look up, you reassure him with a smile. “It’s fine, don't worry. I can’t expect you to always pick me up and host a dinner.”

“I know but I would rather do it knowing you are safe than for you to take a taxi or walk here.” He tells you softly with his arms now draped over waist, his hands interlocked behind you. Blue eyes still looking at you. “Next time I’ll open my schedule up to do so.”

You instantly shake your head. “No, you’ve done too much for me.”

He looks at you softly, almost bittersweetly. “It feels like I haven’t done enough.”

Your lips are already on his nose before he could continue. “You’re perfect.”

Those insecurities leave him and it’s replaced by the previous admiration he first had when you walked into his field of view. Instead of replying, he just pulls you in for another tight hug, his cheek now on top of your head. His indirect way of saying many things with one action.

You mean the world to me.

I appreciate you.

Thank you.

Pulling back from the hug to check up on the veggies he was stirring earlier, you point towards the living room, where Power and Denji lay as they go through the plastic bag you brought. “I hope you don’t mind but I brought some extra food I prepared yesterday and sweets.”

“Mmm you didn’t have to. I made extra food too.” He explains as he tosses the veggies around the sauce, evenly coating each cut piece. “But I do appreciate it, thank you love.”

I smile and wrap an arm around his torso. “I don’t mind. It was going to rot in my fridge anyways with how often I eat here. Plus, you have 2 extra mouths to feed.” 

His soft eyes gloss over to you, and he can’t help but feel the need to kiss the side of your head. “You’re the best.”

“Oi! Can you cook faster and stop flirting so much!” I hear Denji yell from across the place. Aki’s soft feature forms a frown as he goes to scold Denji for interrupting the moment.

Just now remembering you had more people in the room, you walk off to where the other two reside. Both are already munching on the baked goods you’ve brought, happily enjoying it while watching their show.

“Like em?” You ask Denji as you sit down next to Power. Her cat senses your presence, immediately heading over to you, purring happily under your loving touches. “Hi cutie.” 

Without taking his eyes off the screen, he replies back with his mouth stuffed. “Therwe realu-

“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” Aki scolds from the kitchen.

“Whamever.” He dismisses but gulps it down anyways before continuing. “Good ass…” He draws a blank. You watch the way the gears in his mind slowly rotate as they try to put together a coherent sentence. “Good ass goods!”

Power slams her hand flat onto his back, repeatedly slapping him, and causes poor Denji to choke mid consumption of the said goods. Her boisterous laugh echoes within their flat. “You sound more stupid than usual!” She hollers out then starts shaking him.

He starts to cough from all the sudden movements and finally dryly swallows the food. Despite watching Denji almost choke, you can’t help but laugh from watching the events unfold. They really were siblings by heart.

As the conversation slowly dies, Aki takes this opportunity to step outside to smoke. Everyone sits comfortably in the ambience. With the sound of the Tokyo nightlife and the lowered volume of the TV playing some random channel, it really lured everyone to a relaxed state of mind.

It could be the combination of good food and it being quite late into the night that caused both Denji and Power to pass out on the ground. Your buzzy self smiles at the sight of them, so peaceful from the food coma. The whole environment feels so… nice.

It was somewhat odd for you. Your body is aware of the empty space where your walls and guard used to be. Not really used to this feeling of being safe and secure. Growing up in a chaotic and unstable household really puts a toll on you and your point of view on what a safe home should make you feel.

In a way, you never really felt at “home” before.

The silence you’re used to in your own apartment isn’t much different compared to what you’re currently experiencing now, but it makes you feel different. You don’t feel lonely or alienated. You feel…. comfortable. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact you are now just appreciating what a domestic life is like, but it’s a new foreign feeling. Nonetheless, it’s not unwelcome, it’s more than welcome.

You hope this doesn’t come to an end anytime soon.

Taking in a sip of the alcohol of your choice, your eyes pick up on the mess that surrounds you. Dirty plates, unfinished platters of food, both used and unused napkins sprawled over the table. Overall it was just messy, but honestly this is what's expected from a late night dinner with Power and Denji involved.

Without another thought, you stood up with your wobbly tipsy legs and started to clean up. Picking up the empty cans and garbage as you scout the room for more.

“Hey.” Aki calls out for you, head just barely poking into the apartment.

You look up at him, an empty beer can in hand. “Hey.” You greet, confused.

His brows lowered from your response. “I wasn’t saying hi. What’re you doing?”

“Oh.” A giggle escapes from your lips from your tipsy brain. You continue to pick up the beer cans and toss them into the recycling bag. “Cleaning up.” You answer simply.

“You’re a guest.” He starts off walking towards you and takes the bag. “You should be relaxing.”

“You hosted this Aki, in your own home. The least I can do is help clean up just a bit.” You explain then immediately start to stack all the dirty dishes. “How about you get the garbage and I’ll do the dishes. Hm? How does that sound?” 

Leaving no room for him to argue further, you leave the living room and head to the kitchen. Aki watches as you walk away happily with the stack of dishes in hand. You look over to him once, an eyebrow raised from his stare.

“What?” You ask as you hold a soapy dish sponge in one hand and a dirty plate in the other, scrubbing away the grim and food off the plates one by one.

A lot of thoughts are running through his mind but he makes no attempt to show it. He just shrugs and chuckles. “Nothing.”

Both of you fall back into comfortable silence. Only breaking it to drop a couple of small talk here and there. With the TV still running in the back, now on the news channel. You make notes on a few topics the news anchor mentions and Aki does the same, feeling comfortable with the surface level talks. 

Nothing about this was new to either of you. You always offer freely to clean up when invited over and Aki follows up by refusing you from doing so. A routine both of you are accustomed to for the past couple of months. In some way, you should feel content or happy being with someone who flows with you so easily and has grown accustomed to you over time.

But as your thoughts simmer a bit longer, a bitter side to all of this comes around. You’re reminded of the reality you’re truly in. Both you and Aki’s death are determined when you both sign your life away to Public Safety. With Aki being two years left and yours possibly just as short.

The unwavering and daunting feeling never goes away and always ruins moments like these you want to cherish and really be in, to really exist in. No matter how much you try to avoid it, the feeling was and is always there. It doesn’t help that a good chunk of your time with Aki was wasted on avoiding getting to this intimate point in your relationship.

The person you were back then would’ve looked down on you. How could you give in to these selfish desires? Get into a relationship with someone knowing the limited time you have left. It wasn’t fair to them or you. A cruel ending to have to anyone. So you did what at the time felt like the best thing to do, barricaded yourself from the world.

You were committed to keeping a facade up. A mock up personality to shield you and others from getting close to you. You hoped you could keep up with it long enough that one day you leave this world and feel relief no one would experience grief like you did. 

Sadly even with trying to avoid the inevitable, you landed in the worst possible position ever. To end up regretting what you did and having to accept the conditions your fear set out for you. If only you gave up sooner than later. Maybe just maybe you would have enjoyed more of these moments with Aki.

“You okay?”

Your head whips to him, ocean eyes hold much concern. “Yeah why?”

He frowns, not convinced at all. “You’re shaking.”

It’s when he mentions it that you realized your shaky hands. Instantly you shove whatever lingering thought you had left and try to play it off as something else, despite knowing he wouldn’t believe you. “Just….” You trail off drawing a blank for an excuse.

“If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable.” He scolds but his actions don’t mirror his words as he pulls you in for an embrace. “There’s something bothering you. You can talk to me, you know?”

You have… Already. It was a topic that was brought up quite often between the two of you. It was hard to really fully walk past the topic. No advice or form of communication would really ease the both of you of what’s yet to come. But it does in some way help temporarily. At least, until you come back to the same thought again like now.

A sigh leaves your lips when you snuggle closer into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his large frame. “You already know what it is.”

The same sigh leaves his lips as his grip tightens. “I’m here nonetheless.”

Much to his response, it does say a lot. Both of you fall into another routine. Where one would be reminded of the ticking time bomb and the other comes around to comfort them. Neither of you felt the need to speak more with how often it happens. It was a silent way of saying “I’m tired of this too, but just know I’m here for you if you wanna talk more. Just say it and I’ll be here to listen.”

After a few moments, you finally pull back to look at him. A bittersweet smile on your lips. “Thank you.”

His arms never leave you. Instead, they are holding the sides of your arms, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into you. “Anytime.”

Finishing up the last bit that was needed to be done, you both head out to the balcony. You pulled a bit of the curtain from inside to shield where his dingy white lawn chair was on his balcony. A simple but not really effective way to have some privacy from the sleeping children. As you close the sliding glass door, the chills of the night are apparent on your bare arms.

Aki sits down first then signals for you to take the spot on his lap. “Sit, I’m not making you stand.”

Well, you can’t really deny such a tempting offer. You smile at him before doing just that. Both of you adjust yourselves a bit before settling comfortably in the current position. Your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around your waist, and fingers intertwined on your lap. 

The soft buzz of the night life from his quiet neighborhood drowns out your thoughts as you stare aimlessly at the street lights. His arm that was once on your waist now hoists up just below your upper back. He pulls you in closer.

“Hm?” You question the sudden movement.

Aki is silent for a few seconds before talking. “I was just thinking.”

You return the same silence before saying. “Care to elaborate?”

“I…” He pauses, unsure how to say what he wants to say. 

There was just too much to say and too little of the time to say it at that moment. No amount of words or poems could describe the cloud 9 feeling he gets when he sees you there, just existing in his world. It reminds him so much of everything that it overwhelms his mind and makes him draw a blank during moments like this.

Where he wants to say everything but can’t.

So many words and sentences just zoom around him like dust in the air getting blown until it turns into a tornado. Every fleeting thought gets thicker and stronger. It consumes his mind and he can’t choose nor figure out what he wants to say during moments like these. What’s something that could just say everything he needs to say all at once? To tell you he appreciates you. Wants to stay like this with you forever. To continue to live in each other's presence until time stops him for good.

To see you come through that damn door again with a big smile and sparkling eyes as you hold bags of food in both your hands happily. While greeting him with that god forsaken fucking melodic voice of yours.

It hits him.

It’s so simple but it finally hits him.

He looks down at you, meeting your eyes one last time as his nervousness clogs his own throat. The phrase in itself is simple but the meaning is so heavy, so meaningful to him that it almost scares him away from being able to say it. But it’s the only thing that really describes this feeling he feels for you.

God he should really shut up and just say-

“I love you.”

He watches closely to the way your face reacts to this statement, both out of fear and excitement. It’s when he sees the way your eyes get slightly glossy and your cheeks burn bright in warm hues like a sunrise that he reflects the same expression with the biggest smile.

Not much is said. Only the sound of multiple pecks and tender kisses from Aki as he covers your whole face with love. You giggle like a lil highschool girl from all the affection. After almost basically covering 90% of your face in kisses, you finally get a word in. Feeling overwhelmed from joy and love.

“I love you too.” You finally say, holding his face close til your noses are just barely touching. “I… Never thought you could ever love me.”

He understands very well what you meant by that. Given the history between the two of you, but he doesn’t care. At least at this moment he doesn’t. The rays of pure unfiltered feeling of love is all too consuming and subtly blinds him from truly acknowledging the double meaning to your statement.

“We have gone off on the wrong foot and I know we both regret heavily how late it is to be in this position.” He starts off in a whisper then tilts his head slightly to rub the side of your noses, lips barely hovering over yours. “But to me, in this very moment with you, without all the worries we had been dealing with before for weeks. Hell fucking months!” Raising his tone just a bit to playfully emphasize the last part of his statement. “I know for sure I love you. The person here on my lap. The body that holds your beautiful heart and the beautiful heart that holds your soul. From every bit and piece of you, that is all for me to love until I can no longer feel.”

You feel your face get more red with every word being said. It absolutely stuns you to the core and you can’t get your mind to put together a sentence or a single word to say. You’re not used to this true unadulterated form of love. It completely fried your brain, and the only response or reaction you gave were tears.

“I…” You first choke out. “I didn’t do anything special.” You sob out. The big insecure part of you is in some way confused by his declaration. “All I’ve done is hurt you, Aki. I don’t understand.”

He quickly adjusts your positions enough to fully face you from above. Your eyes are bloodshot red, cheeks wet from tears. It’s so painful to see the doubts you’ve had hidden from him resurface but he doesn’t mind. Cause you’re you. He loves you for you, therefore he loves all that comes with you.

Aki starts to kiss your tears and gently guides you to sit up on his lap. Both his hands on your cheeks, wiping the remaining falling tears with his thumbs.

“Hurt is inevitable. We’re human, hurting others will always happen whether we intended to or not. I forgive you love, because I understand what it’s like to be scared of connecting. Especially in the field we’re working in.” His voice is tender and gentle, reassuring you with much sincerity.

He takes the time to really admire every little detail about you. How your hair frames your face. The little scratches and scars from Devil attacks on the cheeks he loves to kiss. How your eyes hold every single emotion that shapes the person you are today.

Your entire being is everything to him.

“You were made to be loved. I don’t care what person or experience made you believe you weren’t but I’m telling you this now sincerely that you were made to be loved inside and out.” 

As each word escapes his lips, he can’t help but inch your face closer and closer and closer until his lips just barely hover over yours.

“Especially by me.”

There was a part of you that wanted to scream at him for lying. For spewing out such bullshit to you at this moment. Cause how can someone so beautiful like him love someone so complex and messy like you? How is that possible?

Whatever the case was, there was a stronger, more hopeful side to you that believes everything he claims. It constantly clashes swords with your insecurities. The same insecurities that made you push him away.

And you know better than to do that now.

He watches the way your eyes light up just a bit as a smile forms. “I love you Aki. Thank you for being…. You.”

It’s after saying that you finally lean in and kiss him with all the same love and care he has for you. He makes no mistake to delay this. Kissing you back with all his entirety. Your souls intertwine through an invisible bond the more the kiss deepens. Unspoken love of affirmations set ablaze the passion you have for each other.

And in that very moment, both of you knew no matter how much time you guys wasted wishing and counting your regrets. You still had each other. As bittersweet as it is, that’s all anyone could ask for.

Well… Aki is hoping he could ask for your hand in marriage but let’s leave that for another time.

A/N: thanks for reading! please let me know if you see any mistakes with the gn!reader pov, this is my first :)

[lloydfrontera]

Im so curious

What about BK Moon gives you so much beef with him like the misogyny I understand but you talk about him like there's more

it's all the untapped potential. that's all it is. bk moon can be such a good writer at times and there's some genuinely interesting and fascinating ideas in his work, but man do they get buried under some of the most bizarre and tedious plots he can come up with.

he comes up with some amazing dynamics, concepts and characters and then does shit with them. he writes incredibly passionate and heart-wrenching relationships between his male protagonists and then shoves them into the most boring and/or underdeveloped straight romances possible. he describes utterly horrifying scenarios (affectionate) with such vivid detail you can almost see them play out perfectly in your head and then goes on and on about very boring topics with too much detail that you can skip without losing anything for it.

his novels could be so good... if only they were good. there's something there but you have to grab a shovel and dig them up by yourself because he's not gonna help you do it.

he's a good writer! but he could so much better. and that's what makes it so infuriating! because i see the potential, i see the seeds being planted, i see what could've been... and i can't do anything about it but make silly little posts about it! i wanna be his editor and beta-reader soooo bad.

but to be clear i don't have,, real beef with the man. like. i don't know him. i just read what he writes and sometimes stalk his fb but that's it. my feelings about him are completely based on what his writing and his novels tell me and nothing more. and i do like his writing! i genuinely do enjoy his style and the way he writes! some times more than others but nonetheless!

and also sometimes i just like being dramatic. sometimes i'm mildly annoyed by one of his writing decision and i say i'll stab a man. doesn't mean i actually hate his guts or anything aksjhdka

i will even admit that maybe if his novels were better i wouldn't be so into them as i am. take orv for example. i love it, i definitely binge-read it, cried my heart out and it remains one of my favorite webnovels of all time. but i didn't dedicate two years of my life to talk about it, y'know? it's so good i don't really have anything to add to the conversation. unlike with tged and cpsm where i have entirely too much to say about them.

i guess i just... mourn the wasted potential of his writing. and like with a lot of other authors i can't help but be bitter about the hetero/amatonormativity that seeps into it. if he were just a little bit more open to write his protagonists as anything else than straight or at least stopped adding romance for romance sake, his novels would stand out from many others even with his rather run-of-the-mill plots.

also i'm salty that he keeps catering to whiny dudebros with such fragile egos they can't handle an emotional scene without calling it cringe. when he could be catering to me instead <3 i, unlike them, do appreciate how he writes incredibly deep and passionate friendships between men willing to risk the whole world for one another <33

tldr: he gives me brain worms. and i'm mad about it. he needs a better editor and it should be me.

[samanddean76]

How To Accidentally Create Soulmates

Gabriel had been enjoying a leisurely afternoon spent shirking everything that even vaguely resembled one of his many responsibilities, when the frantic prayer made a previously unscheduled stop inside his head.  It was, of course, from his favorite little wayward angel, Castiel, and as he listened to the panicked words as they filled his mind, well, he knew that he was going to have to personally remedy the unfolding drama before it spiraled wildly out of control.  He rolled out of the hammock that had been slung between two palm trees on the shore of a lovely little volcanic island, looked around one last time at the natural beauty that he rarely found the time to be able to enjoy, and then ascended to heaven in a whoosh of magnificent wings. 

The specific nursery was easy to find, what with the high-pitched shrieking that was carrying down the hall.  That was very concerning, as the soul nurseries were the picture-perfect ideal for all things calm and serene.  Chuck was prone to planning ahead, and one day, with no warning whatsoever, all of the archangels were marched into a special wing of heaven.  They had needed to shade their eyes against the bright glow of countless souls milling about, waiting for the time that their body would be formed and that they would then go down and live out their destined lives.  The brothers had been informed that this wing was under their personal protection, as it also contained another nursery further down the hall.  That was the one that needed their defense. 

Michael had immediately volunteered to watch over the harmless little balls of light, feeling that as they were far behind the magnificent gates of heaven, nothing would ever be able to harm them.  Their safety was ensured by their location. 

Raphael had said nothing, just standing there looking bored.  Gabriel had worried that his big brother was plotting, but he couldn’t think of a single thing that Raphael could get up to that would require a vast quantity of souls in order to accomplish it. 

Lucifer had smiled that oily smile of his, the one that let everyone know that he was up to something, just not having worked out the particulars of his insidious plan just yet.

Gabriel had stood silent, looking down at the marble floor.  Just feeling that this was not a matter that merited his concern, and that his father would inevitably pick one of his glorious warrior brothers to see to the task at hand.  Leaving Gabriel to wander off and see to his favorite hobby, animal creation.  He was still miffed that no one had been excited about his platypus, cute little thing that it was.  Perfectly adorable as far as he was concerned. 

But no.  That hadn’t been what had come to pass. 

“Well, see, I mean, I called you here to let you know that I actually had one of you selected already.”  Chuck had been a little bleary eyed as he spoke, jittery from too much of his favorite drink, something he called coffee.  Said it would be incredible once the humans discovered how to make it for themselves. 

“But see, I think that this is a responsibility that will be perfect for you, Gabriel.”  All eyes had turned towards the diminutive Archangel, some curious, some jealous, and all now utterly bored with the topic at hand, as it no longer concerned them.  For if Gabriel had been selected, then it really couldn’t have been that important anyway.  The others had wandered off as Chuck had taken Gabriel on a guided tour.  Showed him all of the different rooms, pointed out all of the potential problems, as far as Chuck saw it anyway.  Gabriel had tried to show some interest, but he really couldn’t see the point of walking down a hallway every few days, peering in through a window, nearly being blinded as the little souls simply didn’t know how to dim themselves, and then wandering off, as it wasn’t even a practical notion that he might be successful in counting them.  So, what else could he possibly do? 

Once he had assured Chuck that he was very proud to have been given this great honor, Gabriel had made a beeline to Castiel’s quarters.  He found the oddball little angel as he usually was, meditating on some profound matter.  The reason that Gabriel liked him so much was because he always had the best ideas for new animals, or at least the best theoretical ideas, which Gabriel pondered and then produced some truly inspired creations from. 

Castiel had been honored at the thought that he could help Gabriel in such a momentous way.  Gabriel had simply shrugged, thanked him, gone off to design a seahorse (because pregnant males were so going to annoy his brothers), and had forgotten all about this newly shirked responsibility.  So that was why the frantic prayer was so worrisome.  What could possibly have gone so wrong that Castiel was unable to handle it? 

The answer smacked Gabriel right in the face as soon as he opened the door, literally.  The little soul, which seemed smaller than normal, had been wailing its little metaphorical lungs out, when it had glommed onto Gabriel and slid down to rest directly over his heart.  The purring sound that was wafting up was strangely soothing, but Gabriel couldn’t focus on that, he needed to know what was going on.  His honey-gold eyes caught upon Castiel, as he sat in the middle of the floor, with his own little soul happily stuck to him.  It also appeared to be smaller than normal, and before Gabriel could ask his question, Castiel simply announced the needed answer.  Or his version of it, anyway. 

“Gabriel!  Please, I don’t know what happened!  I was passing this room when I heard a disturbance coming from within.  When I looked through the window, this soul was glowing blue and gold while trying to break free, and then it, simply passed through the glass and won’t let go of me.”  Castiel looked down at his own little purring ball of light, and Gabriel watched as it strobed with each approximation of a breath. 

“Ok, but that doesn’t explain this.  Why are there two tiny souls?”  Gabriel waved a hand at his own very small soul, noted the look of dread on Castiel’s face, and inquired, “What?  What does that look mean?” 

Castiel was now chewing on his lip, before he swallowed hard, and then squeaked out.  “It’s this soul.” 

“Come again?”  Because, no, nope, bad, so bad, no good would come of this, oh for the love of dad!  Gabriel braced himself for the answer, knowing that no matter what it was, it was not going to make the situation any better. 

“It’s the same soul.  It tore itself in two.”  Gabriel could only stare at Castiel as his mouth hung open and he pondered what he could have possibly done to have earned such an insane punishment.  Not from Castiel, of course, but from Chuck once he learned that the one and only unbreakable thing in all of creation had been broken.  In less than three weeks, that which could never be destroyed had been ripped in two. 

Gabriel realized he needed to invent some expletives, because situations like these simply called for them to be used with vigor and a shocking degree of creative inventiveness.  And he was nothing if not a linguistic connoisseur.  But that was for later.  Right now, he needed to focus on cleaning up this mess. 

“Castiel, you’re absolutely positive that this was one, single soul.  That there weren’t two tiny souls that you overlooked?”  Were it not for the precariousness of the moment he found himself tangled up within, Gabriel would have laughed at the look of pure indignant annoyance that was framed on Castiel’s worried visage.  An entire forests worth of carefully documented paperwork appeared from out of the clear blue sky and landed near Gabriel’s feet. 

“I believe that if you refer to page 1,537,951,482,706 of my notes that you will find I have measurements for only one since the very first day I assumed this responsibility.”  Gabriel realized that he had underestimated his little cohort.  As he quickly perused Castiel’s meticulous notes, the little soul that had snuggled into him glanced back over its shoulder (and Gabriel would swear on everything holy and pure to the voracity of this fact), but that it then blew a raspberry at its other half.  That prompted a sound that if Gabriel had to hazard a guess, would become the basis of a future expletive. 

Gabriel needed a minute to think, to try to puzzle out a solution to a quandary that he hadn’t seen coming.  At all.  Not only had he failed in his duties, but his minion had also broken the unbreakable, and now the two little halves seemed quite content to stay with their chosen angel.  Which could prove to be rather difficult to explain to Chuck.  Because really, how does that conversation go? 

“Hey son, you seem a little extra bright today.  Anything different?” 

“Naw, nothing at all.  Hey!  Look over there!” 

Gabriel then pictured himself running away, not stopping until he was at least four galaxies over.  He was brought out of his dire thoughts by the little soul letting out a huge yawn and then beginning to drift off to sleep.  Must have tuckered itself out after the screaming fit, was all that Gabriel could think to explain the action.  But Castiel looked down at his own half, and Gabriel knew then that they were still connected.  Even though one was now two, they still shared a bond that couldn’t be completely severed. 

Castiel was looking up at him, big blue eyes full of hope that maybe he hadn’t inadvertently destroyed their father’s most prized creation, and it was then that Gabriel decided that a little Archangel mojo was called for.  Lest he end up being punished for something that wasn’t entirely his fault.  Yes, he had delegated, but how hard could it be to look after a few quintillion souls?  Really?  Gabriel let his grace flow out, helping to wipe away Castiel’s memory of this day, and then he picked up the sleeping soul and wrapped both halves around the other. 

Gabriel watched, utterly fascinated as a closed seam appeared where the soul had been torn in two.  On further inspection, it looked as if the seam could be opened with very little effort, meaning that this soul would be able to split into two whenever it felt the desire to.  Well, he couldn’t be having that, so with a snap of his finger he did the best he could to erase their memory of this day. 

It should work, right?  I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? 

Gabriel pulled the tall drink of water that was Sam Winchester closer to him, tucking his massive head into the hollow of Gabriel’s throat.  Wondered how he had ever been foolish enough to think that he would have been able to make this determined little soul ever forget about him.  The being that had helped to motivate it to literally rip itself in half. 

Castiel and Dean were in the next room over, quiet now, after they had gotten done rearranging the furniture.  Gabriel still chuckled every single time Castiel made a reference to that damn porno.  Especially since it wasn’t even one of Gabriel’s. 

Chuck had never said a word, just given Gabriel an odd look one day.  Like Gabriel had managed to surprise him.  Or that he had done exactly what he was supposed to.  Omnipotence at work. 

It didn’t really matter.  Not anymore. 

Because what more can you do after you accidentally accomplish the impossible? 

[gergthecat]

Legacy CH 1 - Lae POV

My alarm is blaring; my head is throbbing, and I can’t find my academy jacket. I’m glad that I set my alarm to four AM, because there is no way I’d make my morning flight call otherwise. I find my jacket on top of my hamper lid in my bathroom, and I pop a few painkillers before heading into the kitchen for breakfast. My dad is humming along to “I Wanna Lick Ya (Lollipop)” and my mom seems to be rolling her eyes out of her head.

“Do you really think that’s appropriate for a father to sing in front of his child?” I say as I slide past him to the fridge.

“Hmm,” I realize my mistake a second too late, “I wouldn’t know. Saeds?”

“Do not involve me.” 

Dad constantly tells me about his father, a stark contrast to the menacing silence that falls whenever I mention my mom’s. I suppose it is a touchy subject, especially because she betrayed him just to be with my dad, though I don’t blame her. All I really know about him is what articles and books I’ve found online, which mostly detail him as a genocidal kink in the ribbon that is Syldrathi history. Not an easy dinner topic. 

With my golden braids slashing behind my back, I snatch a yogurt cup from the fridge's top shelf and race out the door.

Dad yells from behind me, “Fly safely!” 

I roll my eyes. When I chose the Ace path, I thought my dad would be disappointed that I wasn’t following in his footsteps, but he was weirdly happy about it. I’ve asked him dozens of times, and each was dismissed with a different nonsense answer. Mom seems to know, too, though she obviously doesn't like it--one of their many secrets.

I bolt down the Legion halls, taking the same swift turns I’ve been doing my entire life. Just as her door comes into view, Evalie quietly slips out of her home, brandishing her signature Brain Jacket. She turns to me, tucking her bobbed silver hair behind her round ears as she links her arm through mine.

As we walk, she starts with the usual spiel, “Cuz, you’ve got to let me give you a makeover; at least pierce your ears.”

Evalie takes after our Aunt Scar in that when she sees someone needing fixing, she won’t let it go until they yield. I’ve accepted that I inherited my Dad’s signature lack of pizzaz, yet she never has, and it’s led to a decent catalog of skirmishes in the Legion’s battle sims.

“I mean, look at you, you're gorgeous, you look like no other Syldrathi, like, ever, but you are utterly boring.”

“Maybe I like being boring! It’s inconspicuous.”

 One thing I did not inherit from my dad, however, was the ability to look pedestrian. On the surface, he seems like every blond Terran ever, save for his eye. If I can reduce my likelihood of being recognized by simply being plain, I’m doing it.

“Yeah, I’m sure Uncle Ty was super apprehensive about being inconspicuous as he was courting Saedii.”

I roll my eyes. My parents are weird.

We slow down in front of Dariel’s door, awaiting his orthodoxically prompt arrival. As we walk, arms bound at the elbow, he details his morning, both his parents half asleep on the couch when he began making breakfast. Dariel becomes more and more like Dad every day, though that is to be expected when he’s the only other Alpha that Dariel knows. 

The fork in the hall comes, and Dariel and Val turn left, leaving me to make my way to the flight sim hangar alone. The door guard greets me as usual, standing aside as the door slides open with a quiet whoosh. I strap into my jet and shoot off into my portion of vacuum. Watching the beginners in their Chimeras gives me deja vu, and perhaps recklessly, I shoot off into unregulated space, just as I used to do with Dad when I was a child. Being the child of a galactic chevalier and the scariest woman alive certainly has its perks when it comes to bending the rules, especially because when he was a youth (approximately one thousand years ago), he found Aunt Auri in a random hole and inadvertently saved everyone’s asses. 

I think of this as I glide through aerospace, leaving a clean trail of molten asteroid debris behind me, when my scanner picks up a mayday signal. I’ve answered a few before: all young Aces overestimating their competence in space unsullied by our cleaning bots, and change my direction to find them. As I get closer, the signal grows stronger until I can glimpse the outline on one of my twenty-seven screens. It doesn’t look like an academy ship, too angular and bulky, almost like one of the cargos. Only, we are hundreds of klicks away from any cargo port that I can think of; I used to wait by their huge viewing windows when my Dad still did fold-missions.

This ship is massive and looks as though it was constructed entirely with shrapnel and a few pieces of fold-grade platinum here and there, like one of the model ships that Uncle Fin and Valie used to make out of old tin cans and scrap metal when she was younger.

I ease up on the side as quietly as I can, now certain of what I’ve gotten myself into: looters, pirates, probably here to sell my own Legion-Class Chimera for some credits on Sempiternity and then bounce. I’ve never been there—Dad would have a heart attack—but from what I’ve heard from Uncle Kal and the academy’s safety lessons, the folk of Sempiternity are not the type of people with whom I want to engage.

As I’m reaching their port, I expect a few fighters to shoot out, readying my weapons launch for defense, but they never come. The signal just keeps blaring, red light flashing on the display without any means for me to understand what is actually happening.

Regaining my sense of the value of my life, I radio my dad, his face filling the screen in front of me just after the first ring.

“Hey Kiddo? What’s up?” His face betrays worry as he notices the glaringly obvious signs that I’ve done something inadvisable. I can feel it, too; the sweat on my face cools my cheeks, and I feel nauseated the same way I do before an important test.

“Something’s wrong,” I ramble as I attempt to make the most sense out of what I’ve seen, Dad’s eyebrows furrowing more and more throughout my recount.

“Sounds to me like pirates. Send me your location; I’ll be there soon,” I watch as he hurriedly alerts his legionnaires of my situation before ending the call. I drop a quick message his way:

DAD OF DADS

                  Just outside of reg territory, maybe 200klicks?

Ok, just told your mom, she said serves me right for letting you fly out there. Got back-up on the way. Sit tight.

    Only way I CAN sit in this effing shithole.

Don’t swear.

Whatever

Against my better judgment, I decide to get closer. The more I look at this thing, the closer I feel to the realization that something is seriously weird here. The engines are off, and through the plexiglass window, I can see a chaotic display of overturned furniture and smoldering metal. The reason this hunk of metal looks so battered is because it’s taken a serious beating. Looks like the type of vacuum missiles that the ATF uses, which only does to worsen the churning in my stomach. Until, changing perspective, I see a pile of charred Syldrathi bodies. That does it for me, and I swiftly turn around, barely making it before I vomit my yogurt onto the shiny aluminum floor. Their necks are slit just below the chin, and fairly deeply, causing the gaping holes in their bodies to resemble mouths, wide open. 

I don’t know how long I’ve been shaking before I hear the docking request alert and see my dad’s flight number. With a shaky hand, I press the accept button and watch through the cams as he pulls in, two smaller ships behind him. As I stare at the open docking doors, the images of all those people flash in my head, necks agape and covered in caked deep purple blood.

Check me out on AO3 :)

Legacy Chapter 2

Legacy Chapter 3

Masterlist :)

[story-weavr]

In reference to previous post of mine:

How might Lex Luthor fall for reporter Clark Kent?

Assuming Lex Luthor (to his knowledge) never met Clark Kent before Superman came to Metropolis, how might attraction grow?

Lex Luthor is an apex predator who desires to have control. He’s suave and charismatic while also being intellectually superior to most. Lex goes for the following:

- trusted female employees,

- women whom fit the bill for upper echelon via beauties, talent, &/or pedigree

The ones he chooses to marry are only because marrying them serves his plans in some way. And as far as I know, barring Angela Blake/ Ardora/ Gertrude, they all ended in divorce.

When he first meets Clark Kent, he underestimated him at first due to his appearance of being mild-mannered and “second banana” to the alluring yet infuriating Lois Lane.

Clark Kent, however, asked questions that were to the point whilst still being respectful as opposed to Lois’s sharp wit. They make a good team; perhaps why Clark’s name is usually the by-line of a Lois Lane story.

His writing was also rather engaging, albeit infuriating at times when the content is not what he would prefer.

And he is rather non-opportunistic as opposed to others of his profession, hence why he has gained the trust and friendship of many big names such as Bruce Wayne, Oliver Queen, & senior scientists of STAR Labs.

But in the end, Clark is just another human; imperfect albeit moral. A pawn.

What would change Luthor’s mind?

A) Perhaps, one day an attack by one of Superman’s other foes cause structural damage in the building or mine they are in, forcing them to wait for rescue while another Metropolis hero (Steel perhaps?) is busy dealing with said villain.

Bored, perhaps Lex would spark a conversation, not hoping for much, only to find Kent was rather intellectual and had a sharp wit.

B) Perhaps Lex Luthor would discover & adore the work of one Atticus Clark. He can’t help but read The Janus Contract over and over again. A bit silly to enjoy a mere adventure novel, but it just spoke to the inner daring boy that Lex often has to squash. He is so impatient for the next work that he actually gets someone to look into Atticus Clark.

He becomes utterly shocked that said author was mild-mannered Clark Kent. The writing styles, albeit of the same engaging prose, are quite different!

Why on Earth would a brilliant author hide his identity in such a way that his own publisher doesn’t know his real identity?

A means to protect his private life? Shyness?!

Lex manages to have a private conversation with Clark, asking for his autograph. At first offended that his privacy was invaded, Clark couldn’t help but give in to Luthor’s genuine admiration.

Lex, having admiration for someone of such talent, even offered to have his publishers replace Clark’s current ones. Clark explained that while honored, he had no complaints about his current publishers who respect his privacy and don’t push him for more works.

For him, writing novels was an escape, a thing of joy, release, and introspection on both himself & humanity. His job was uncovering the truth and doing the right thing.

Perhaps their conversation falls into philosophies which then turns into other topics. Lex becomes shooketh and intrigued at the amount of knowledge & understanding Clark has. And the other man just brushes it off?!

C) Perhaps an incident happens at LexCorp event, where a child or incapacitated person falls into the water and Kent dives in immediately after. Coming out of the water, the person in distress is safe.

Lex meanwhile is forced to question his sexuality when he does not see the expected drowned rat.

Clark Kent, having thrown his jacket off to dive after, is more muscular than one would think. Not that of body builders or that damn alien, but of a proportional slimmer variety.

His skin is glowing in the sunlight.

His eyes sparkling due to the wetness clinging to his glasses.

His hair, usually arranged in careful bangs or covered by a hat, settle around his head in messy curls, framing his face and clinging to his skin.

Skin that was surprisingly smooth and free of dense hair usually associated with men.

Lips, where before Lex had not noticed, were pink, seemingly soft & plushy, and trembling as water droplets caressed them

A face lightly dusted with a blush matched the stuttering words of an obviously cold and embarrassed man asking his partner Lois for his coat.

Lex Luthor needs a drink and a moment to think.

D) Perhaps Lex Luthor receives a message that a certain individual who was related to an employee of his late father has special information that might interest the billionaire.

What that information is, the girlfriend of said individual didn’t know. Just that it was about Lex’s past.

Lex, annoyed at the reminder of his “dearly” departed father & what seems to be a clumsy blackmail attempt in the making, has the man watched.

Much to his confusion, he received a report that nothing was found in the man’s apartment or place of work. The man also never made any attempts to get in touch with Lex Luthor. If anything, he seemed to be waiting for something.

Then one day, the man drove out of town. He first stopped somewhere and came out with several files. Because it was crowded, the Luthor agents could not approach or steal from the man.

The man immediately went back to Metropolis, to a diner in a bad part of town. Soon, Clark Kent walked in with the brief case.

Sitting down in front of the man, the somber faced reporter slid into the booth.

The smirking man merely slid the files across the table. Clark then took them. He then slid the briefcase onto the table.

When the other man touched it, the reporter didn’t let go. Instead, he quietly said that a friend of his had already wiped the backup data and that another had already stolen the other copies.

The reporter continued that if the other man ever came looking for money again, his friends have given him enough dirt that if he published it: the cops would be involved.

The only reason he didn’t already and instead paid the money was because he didn’t want mutual destruction. Clark went on to tell the man that he has friends in high places that will keep tabs on him for the rest of his life.

The reporter went on to remind the criminal that “the other party” WILL kill him if he even tried to blackmail him like he did Clark.

The criminal smiled and reassured that he isn’t that stupid hence why he chose to blackmail Clark. Now that he has the money, he has no desire to get dead because he was greedy and stupid.

Clark released the briefcase. Getting up, he stated that it would be a good idea if the blackmailer left Metropolis, never to return. He then left.

The other man, smug, left the bar as well.

Luthor’s employees opted to wait. The next time Superman was busy or out of Metropolis, they tracked down and captured the blackmailer (arrested for another crime?), covering their tracks with a false digital trail + false ID.

The blackmailer not wanting to die, said he would only tell either Luthor himself or someone Luthor trusted.

Lex, curious but not prioritizing, sent a member of his inner circle (Mercy, Hope, Spaulding, etc)

When his trusted minion came back, Lex Luthor was told a story that he wouldn’t have believed if not for the fact Clark Kent literally paid over a million dollars to the man to keep it secret.

Apparently, the accident in his youth that cost him his first independent business and most of his hair was also used as an opportunity by his father. Lionel Luthor hired a hypnotist so that young Lex Luthor would forget about his male lover. Lionel would go further and threaten the other boy to leave the US, wanting to make sure Lex never saw the other.

The boy would go on to flee. Lionel had the boy monitored. Many years later, his death, however, ushered the return of the boy now man to his hometown, a young child in tow.

One would think that the farm boy found love again overseas. Except, according to the sporadic reports of Lionel’s goons, the only females he was in close contact with were never pregnant. Plus the baby was practically a newborn when he first appeared.

In addition, the hometown of the boy had some very strange rumors and incidents: ghost sightings, skin walkers, succubi, a lot of deaths or disappearances.

The investigator went on a limb & threatened to expose Clark Kent as Lex Luthor’s former lover. He also made insinuations about Smallville’s weirdness and how Conner Julian Kent must have been named after Jules Luthor, Lex’s uncle who had lived in Smallville.

What do y’all think?

How might the villainous Lex Luthor see mild-mannered Clark Kent as more than a pawn?

[eldritch-nightmare]

fuck it here's my friendship headcanons for the creeps bc why not

jeff, ej, and ben r all besties.

liu, helen, and ann r all besties.

liu wants jeff dead and jeff wants to b a family again but liu will never forgive him

og nina and jeff are Awkwardly friends. in a strained way.

og nina highly respects jane and liu but will not hesitate to get into a brawl w them

ej and sully are besties

toby and liu are friends

toby and natalie are friends in a way where they rarely ever speak to each other but they got a tight bond and will commit heinous acts of violence to keep the other safe

natalie and liu are friends to exes who hate each other to exes who get along bc that liu x natalie lore i had when i was younger is just too ingrained into my being for me to get rid of

lazari, sally, and ben are all friends.

slender and zalgo are friends idc i never understood why they had beef w each other in various different stories in the fandom to me they meet up with each other every week to have tea and discuss whatever comes up as a topic

helen and the puppeteer are friends

the puppeteer, jason, and vine are in a crafts group that meets up once a month

jane detests jeff, nina, and liu. hates all three of them with a burning passion.

laughing jack and jeff r friends

laughing jack and laughing jill are like that spiderman pointing meme but they hate each other

laughing jack detests sally, ben, and lazari

cody sees toby as an elder brother and toby has awkwardly accepted that.

jane and the puppeteer are friends in a 'this bitch scares me so i gotta stay on her good side' sort of way

liu is like an older brother to both sally and ben. he 100% is like 'you two may be dead but i don't give a damn you're getting an education whether you like it or not' and sally is excited while ben is groaning and complaining the entire time

zero hates everybody

ann hates everybody except for liu and helen. sully is on thin fucking ice

i think nina and natalie could potentially get along

natalie and jane arkensaw Have fucked they are friends w benefits

laughing jack thinks candy pop is annoying and candy pop thinks it's funny

laughing jill also thinks candy pop sucks this is the only thing jack and jill will ever agree on

candy pop doesn't really interact much with the others since he's sorta tied to the abyss and can't leave it for too long but i think he and jason get along.

kagekao and candy pop are friends. to me. can't explain why.

sully is indifferent about everybody. however, he's very close w liu for obvious reasons, and he's friends w helen and ann. a little less so than liu, but still. he's besties w eyeless jack. and he utterly despises jeff full stop period. he neither likes nor hates everyone else, he just finds them all to be boring. uninteresting.

nathan exists. in here. somewhere. sorta just watches everyone and keeps people at a distance.

dr smiley is the resident doctor everyone goes to but absolutely no one trusts him so they always go to ej afterward to make sure they were actually properly treated.

the animals. smile dog, grinny cat. and seedeater, i guess. they are there too. none of them get along w each other.

smile dog is very fond of sally and follows her everywhere when it's around. growls at laughing jack when he's nearby. will also growl at jeff if he's mean to sally.

grinny cat can be found perched up on eyeless jack's shoulders or cradled in natalie's arms.

laughing jack and seedeater get along real well. 'holy shit you eat children? hell yeah i like you'

and the entity known as the mansion is friends with everyone <3

that's it for now i may come up w more later

[aylacavebear]

The Traveler - Chapter 3 - Earth 1997 PT 2

You're from a specific dimension, Solaris Eclipse. It was a dimension of magic. When your kind, the Eldrathiren, turned fifteen, your unique power would awaken within you. Most times, it was something small, levitation, teleportation, creation, elemental manipulation, and things like that. Once in a while, a fifteen-year-old would just disappear, and those were called Travelers. None of them had ever returned. Your parents had told you stories about them, and you hoped that wouldn't happen to you.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 3590

Pairing Eventually Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You & Sam Winchester x OC Reader/You

Warnings: Angst, Scary Situation, Some Fluff.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 3 - Earth, 1997 Pt. 2

After the brothers left, you changed back into your original clothes, feeling better now that your tail was free again. It was strange, though, when you took off Dean’s shirt. You picked it back up and sniffed it, noticing a part of the scent that had lured you out of your village. Sadly, you still couldn’t place the exact scent.

You watched the TV again while waiting for Dean to return. The things on it were fascinating and confusing, depending on what came on or what channel you were on. You also realized that in order for you to even go out anywhere, you’d have to hide your ears and tail and not smile too much at anyone so they didn’t see your canines.

Throughout the day, you and Dean talked, about a lot. Luckily, you’d caught on to English, which made communicating easier. He’d brought back something called donuts, and you found them utterly delicious. Dean even chuckled, watching you eat several different kinds. You weren’t big on the thing called coffee, though. It was bitter, at least compared to the donuts.

That afternoon, after lunch, which had been something called a bacon cheeseburger and french fries, he left to retrieve Sammy from school. The food in this world, at least what you had tasted so far, was delicious. Dean had explained the things they hunted. He also explained how people in this world were. Unfortunately, he had to be blunt with you, explaining that because of how you looked, the whole cat ears, tail, and canines, people here would freak out, and some would want to hunt you.

You really wanted to see more of this world and experience the outside, and while Dean was gone, you began thinking of how you could do that without scaring people. Dean had made it clear that he had no clue how to help you get back to your dimension. This dimension did have magic, but it was different. Here, witches did magic, and so far, the brothers didn’t know a nice one that might help. Witches were usually something they hunted.

When the motel room door opened, only Sammy came inside, which puzzled you, “Where is Dean?”

“Oh, he’s at the library. He didn’t want to leave you here alone,” Sammy replied, setting his backpack down.

You plopped down on the bed, sighing through your nose, “What is school like?” you asked, fairly curious.

He laughed before sitting on the opposite bed, facing you, “It’s school. Adults teach you things. You take boring tests. Kids bully other kids. Uh, they’re mean to other kids. That’s what a bully is,” he began explaining when you tilted your head slightly.

“Why are people mean to other people?” you asked, not fully understanding the concept. It wasn’t like that where you were from.

Sammy shrugged, “Some people are just mean. Dean said he hadn’t found a way to help you get home yet but that you liked all the food he brought you.”

You figured he wanted to change the topic off of school, so you went along with it. You also didn’t realize that asking a thirteen-year-old wasn’t the best way to discover why people were mean to others. “I am not sure there is a way for me to get home. A Traveler has never returned home before,” you replied, a little quieter than before, trying not to feel sad at the thought of never seeing your family again.

“You can stay with us. We can be your new family,” Sammy told you quite happily, making you chuckle a little. He was rather adorable.

“I do not know how long it will be, before I end up somewhere else,” you replied, somewhat quietly, realizing that you were actually going to miss both the brothers.

“Well then, we’ll have to have some fun while you’re here,” he said, trying to lighten both your moods.

Sammy began explaining a game called Go Fish as he pulled out what he explained was a deck of cards. It seemed like a simple game to match certain cards by asking the other player if they had a specific card. He showed you an example, and you found him adorable during his explanation. Then, the two of you played a practice game. He wanted you to understand it before he “got serious” about playing.

The first round was simple enough, and you caught on faster than Sammy thought you would. He had you laughing, you had him laughing, and the rounds were tied so far. Before he could deal the next round, Dean returned to the motel, looking somewhat discouraged.

“Hey, Dean, you want to play too?” Sammy asked, smiling as he looked over at him.

“It’s dinner time,” he replied, and you tilted your head a bit as the aroma of bacon cheeseburgers filled the motel room, making you smile.

“It is okay, Sammy, we can always play tomorrow if I am still here,” you tried to reassure him, “Plus, it was fun.”

Dean began unpacking the food he’d brought onto the table as you went over to try to help, but he didn’t let you, “You’re a guest. Just get comfy, Sweetheart,” he told you with that cute smirk that made you smile.

So, that was what you did. You went and got comfortable on the bed you’d slept in the night before, sitting cross-legged and attempting to wait patiently. Sammy went and sat at the table while Dean brought you yours and sat on the opposite bed.

While the three of you ate, he explained that he hadn’t been able to find anything about how to open a portal to another dimension. He also explained that libraries were limited on information, so that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a way, he just hadn’t found it yet.

Over the next three days, you stayed at the motel room with the brothers. Dean had even washed your original clothes for you. The whole washing machine and dryer was fascinating to you. You had barely managed to keep yourself from going out and exploring, although, you had watched things from the motel window. You had also had to borrow one of their knives to keep your claws trimmed, as they grew at a much faster rate than the brothers’ nails. Sammy had found that utterly fascinating.

The shower experience was different but quite enjoyable for you. It wasn’t like at home. If you wanted water to flow over you, you had to go to the waterfall. At home, you would sit on a small stool, wash up, rinse off, then soak in the warmed bath. 

Dean had even gone as far as getting you a pair of jeans that you could customize so they weren’t uncomfortable for your tail, and you could leave it out. He’d also gotten you what was called a tank top, which was fairly comfortable. Then he had gotten you something to sleep in that you could do the same with, along with a bag like his and his brothers to keep your belongings in. 

You’d fallen asleep fairly quickly on the fourth night, but the brothers had stayed awake.

“What happens if Dad comes back and sees her? He’s gonna freak out,” Sammy whispered, worried.

Dean groaned quietly, rubbing his face with his hand, then glanced at you as you slept, “I know. I’m gonna have to call him if she’s still here tomorrow. He’s been gone for almost a month now. He’ll probably be back any day.”

Sammy looked over at you as well, “How do we convince Dad that she’s not a monster?” he asked sadly.

“I’ll figure it out,” Dean told him.

The two hit the sack not too long after. Sleep found Sammy quickly, but Dean was kept awake with his thoughts, knowing this would not be easy.

Dean’s POV

Dean woke with a start just after five the following morning. Then, he jumped out of bed and grabbed his jacket before going outside. “Dad, there’s something I need to tell you before you go in there,” he said quickly, now standing near the driver’s side door.

“Dean, I’m tired. I just want to relax for a minute before we head out,” John told him.

Dean took a deep breath. There were a lot of scenarios that had played out in his mind as to how this was going to go, and none of them were looking good, “Dad, please.”

“Damnit Dean. Fine. What?” he snapped, and Dean swallowed hard.

“We found, a uh, a girl. She’s pretty lost and confused. We did all the tests. She’s not a monster, so we were trying to help her,” Dean stated quickly. Yeah, he’d omitted a few little details but hoped he could work up to those.

“So why don’t you want me to go inside?” John asked, and Dean could tell he was quickly losing his patience.

“Well, she, uh, she isn’t human, but she’s not a monster,” he answered.

John moved far too fast for Dean to think. He was inside the motel, Dean quickly on his heels. Dean had barely managed to close the door behind him. John stopped dead in his tracks, seeing you sleeping in the bed, your ears twitching slightly at the sounds. 

“What the hell is she?” John practically demanded through a clenched jaw, his hand on his gun.

You stirred at the new voice in the room, slowly opening your eyes. Seeing the older man now standing at the side of your bed instantly freaked you out, and you moved to the far side of the bed, debating the corner of the room.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just my dad,” Dean quickly told you, moving toward the other side of the bed, but John stopped him.

“What. Is. She?” he asked again, enunciating each word, just as stern as before, only now, he had drawn his gun and aiming it at you.

You knew what was in his hand and the damage it could do. Your eyes widened. Slowly, you slid off the bed toward the corner of the motel room, staying as low to the ground as you could, terrified.

Dean sighed, “She’s an Eldrathiren, and she’s from another dimension.”

John looked over at his son in disbelief, “And you just let her in the motel room?!” You heard a click from the gun, and you knew that meant all he had to do now was pull the trigger.

“She’s not a monster,” Sammy said confidently, awake now due to the commotion in the room.

John’s eyes were back on you, ignoring his youngest son, but his hand was no longer on Dean. Dean was torn between listening to and obeying his father or standing between you and the gun. He took a shaky breath and chose to defy his father and stand between you and the gun his father was pointing at you.

“Dad, please, let us explain,” Dean began, holding his hands up in front of him. He used as calm a tone as he could manage, praying his father would listen to reason.

“She’s only fifteen, don’t hurt her,” Sammy stated, standing beside his brother.

John rolled his eyes, “What the hell has gotten into the two of you?! Move!” “I’m sorry, I’ll leave,” you said meekly from behind the brothers, still crouched in the corner. 

You speaking threw John off, especially with the amount of fear in your voice. He sighed and uncocked his gun before sliding it back into his waistband. “Dean, make some coffee. Sammy, start packing everything. You, I want to talk to you,” John barked orders, and he didn’t sound in the mood to be argued with.

Dean clenched his jaw but didn’t argue, “Yes, Sir.”

Sammy said nothing and did as he was told while John went and sat at the table, motioning for you to follow him. You did but were very cautious as you sat down across from him. Dean kept an eye on you as he began a pot of coffee, worried about what his father might do.

“Now, mind explaining how you managed to get both my boys to go against everything I’ve ever taught them about hunting?” he asked you, fairly annoyed.

Your POV

This wasn’t something you’d prepared yourself for, getting woken up to an adult and then having a gun pointed at you. You also hadn’t anticipated both brothers attempting to protect you from their father, no less. You explained to John what had happened to you since the day of your birthday, what a Traveler was, at least what you knew about them, and then about how Sammy had found you the day you showed up and tried to help you.

It was hard to tell how he felt or what he was thinking. Dean had gotten his father a cup of coffee and also had one himself. He was leaning on the counter, just listening. Sammy had finished packing their things up and loaded them in the car outside, which you still hadn’t seen. John was clearly thinking.

The sun was now up, its rays shining through the thin, closed curtains of the motel room. John was sipping his second cup of coffee. He still hadn’t said anything, and you were trying not to fidget with the hem of your shirt although you were looking down at the table.

“Dad-,” Sammy began quietly, but John just held up a hand in his direction, effectively silencing him.

Dean was still leaning against the counter, his arms crossed, just watching his father and you. The silence was getting not only you but also the brothers. John was glancing at you occasionally, more at your ears than anything. They had drooped some, as they did when you were worried or sad.

It wasn’t until he finished his coffee that he finally said something, “We’ll take her with us, for now.”

Both the brothers seemed relieved, but you weren’t sure how to feel. At least you wouldn’t be alone in this strange place, but John seemed like an angry, strict adult, and not even his boys would argue with him.

“Let’s go,” John told you and his sons, standing from his seat and heading for the door.

You glanced over at Dean, and he nodded, so you, too, got up and headed outside. The sounds didn’t bother you like the day you’d arrived, having had time to adjust to them. Dean opened the back door of the car that John had gone to. Sammy had already gotten in, sitting behind his father.

“It’s okay. It won’t hurt you, and it’ll be okay,” Dean told you quietly. “Thanks,” you replied just as quietly, sliding into the back seat. 

Dean sat in the front seat in front of you. Sammy reached over and set the beanie in your lap so you could cover your ears, and you gave him a thankful smile before doing so. You’d wanted to go outside the second day you’d arrived but had listened to Dean and stayed indoors. Now, you watched as the world outside passed by while John drove to wherever he was going.

You were in complete awe, looking out the windows during the entire drive. Sometimes, there would be music on and other times, it would be quiet. John barely said anything, so both brothers stayed quiet. John mostly took backroads but stopped for food and gas a few different times. 

When he finally parked in front of a two-story house, Dean asked, “What are we doing at Bobby’s?”

“It’s too dangerous to take her with us,” John said flatly, “I called him before you three made it out to the car. He knows, and he’s okay with her staying here.”

You looked between the two of them in the front seat but said nothing as your heart began to race. Dean got out and opened your door while Sammy grabbed your bag out of the truck. He looked so sad as he handed it to you, and then you followed the brothers and John to the front door.

A man near John’s age opened the door after John knocked, “John, boys.”

“Bobby,” John replied.

The man you realized was Bobby held the door open as you followed the three inside.

“I’m sorry I’m so much trouble,” you told the adults quietly.

Bobby sighed as he looked you over, “You need help. We’ll see what we can find.”

“Boys, grab your bags. We’ll be staying a couple days to help Bobby go through his books,” John told them again in that stern voice. 

You wondered if that was just the way his voice was and how he always spoke, but you weren’t about to ask either. Bobby’s place looked nice, although fairly cluttered with a lot of books. You may have been able to speak English, but you still didn’t know how to read it. 

“Come on, kid, I’ll show you where you can sleep while you’re here,” Bobby told you, and he didn’t seem frustrated at you.

“Thank you,” you replied, still a bit quietly, but you also gave him a small smile.

For the next three days, the four of them poured through books. The brothers and their father slept in Bobby’s living room. Bobby was kind, although he was still surprised to see your ears and tail. You were a creature none of them had encountered before. Bobby and Dean took turns cooking. Or, someone would order food and have it delivered. 

You’d been contemplating why you hadn’t ended up in another dimension yet, although you knew very little about Travelers and how things worked. Plus, so far, not one of Bobby’s books even talked about your kind, let alone a Traveler. Even the morning the brothers and their dad got ready to head out, you wanted to go with them. You weren’t sure why, you just did. Saying goodbye to the two of them was hard, and for a moment, you thought you saw something in Dean’s eyes when he looked at you. It was just before he quickly turned from you and got in his Dad’s car, Sammy already in the back and John in the driver’s seat.

“I’m gonna miss them,” you said quietly before Bobby put his arm around your shoulders.

“I know, kid. They’ll be back one day,” Bobby tried to reassure you.

“But will I still be here?” you asked rhetorically, although quietly. It felt like a piece of you was missing now, but had no clue why. “I’m gonna go to my room for a bit.”

There were still so many things you didn’t understand about being a Traveler, and this dimension had held no answers so far. You hadn’t even realized that that scent you’d followed on your birthday hadn’t even been around. As you sat on your bed, things your parents had told you played through your mind.

Travelers are different, Y/N. Their powers are typically based on where they go. All we can tell you are the rumors from a long, long time ago—stories that have been passed down. In the stories, a Traveler has a soul that needs to find something or someone. That is what makes them disappear from here and travel dimensions until they find whatever it is they are looking for or need to find.  So far, at least in the last few centuries, a Traveler has never returned. Dimensions work in weird ways. There could be numerous dimensions of just our world, not to mention all the other ones that are out there. As per the stories, a Traveler stops aging at twenty-five until they find what their soul is searching for, but no one knows for sure.  The chances of you being a Traveler are very slim. According to the stories, it only happens along certain bloodlines, and so far, no one in our bloodline has ever been a Traveler. So, your Dad and I don’t want you to worry about that. You’ll probably get a power similar to what the two of us can do or something close to one in our bloodline.

A knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts, “Y/N, you want something to eat?” Bobby asked through the closed door.

You sighed, “Sure.”

The moment you opened the door though, you caught a whiff of that scent again, and you froze. You weren’t ready to leave this dimension.

“What’s wrong?” he asked you, seeing your reaction.

“The scent, it’s… back,” you answered, staring at nothing in particular but worried you’d just disappear.

Without thinking twice, you grabbed your bag off the end of the bed. If you were going to get dragged somewhere else, you at least wanted to have that with you. So far, the last two times you ended up in a different dimension, you’d walked through two objects. In your world, there were two mushrooms near the border of your village. In the last world, it had been two trees. Here, you had no idea what it would be, and the doorway of your room could have easily been what would take you somewhere else.

“Well, come try to eat something,” Bobby told you before heading back to the kitchen, leaving your door open.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you walked through the doorway of your room. Everything changed around you as you felt a warm breeze blow through your hair.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 4 - Twilight Veil

Link to the series Masterlist.

A/N: If you'd like to get in on the Dimensional Traveling, go to this link and leave me with a comment, or several, with as much or as little detail about the dimension you'd like the Traveler to end up in. If you'd like to have something specific happen, share that too. I'll make sure that you get credit for the idea you shared in the chapter in which your dimension is featured. I'd love to have as many readers involved as possible. I think this could be a lot of fun.

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list.

Tag List: @littlemadamred @mxltifxnd0m

[dylanndr]

It Happened to Me: Crushing While Aro/Ace

TL;DR: You don't stop being aro/ace even when you're having feelings that look, on the surface, strikingly similar to what allo people typically feel. Insert the usual caveat that this is about my own personal experience, other folks will have different takes on this topic.

So yeah, I came down with a crush recently, and decided to draw this little diary comic about it.

[For reference and clarity, I identify as demi/gray for both aro and ace. While I do want to be in a relationship, I don't catch feels for very many people. I do experience sexual attraction, but that's even rarer for me than romantic attraction. This particular guy referenced in my comic managed to set off both.]

On a surface level, there's nothing new or original expressed in this drawing. Pretty standard set of anxieties and behaviors when you're crushing, right?

And yet, for folks who are arospec or acespec, having what looks like a standard crush is not necessarily the same thing as allo crushing. This is not a dynamic I see talked about a whole lot, so I'mma talk about it.

By way of analogy, let's say I did a drawing of a cis man and a cis woman who are clearly a couple, and indicate that they're in a monogamous relationship. Nothing on the surface says that this is anything other than a typical heterosexual couple. Except, wait, what if both people involved are bisexual. Being in a monogamous relationship with someone of a different gender does not automatically reset either person to straight, nor can their partnership be accurately described as heterosexual. Neither person enjoys heterosexual privilege, and each person continues to experience and process attraction differently from someone who is straight.

By the same token, an aro and/or ace person experiencing romantic and/or sexual attraction does not automatically become allo. For my own part, the nature of this particular crush has caused certain allo things to make more sense to me, certain songs or movies or phrases or behaviors, but it feels very much like learning a second language: I just figured out the translation for one or two things that were utterly incomprehensible to me before ("Oh, maybe that's why allos don't seem to get bored of yet another rock song that's about sex. Fascinating.")

This crush does not at all mean that I will now be a typical alloromantic/allosexual from here on out. I still experience these feelings from a different vantage point, and bring a different set of past experiences to bear, experiences that many allo people have flat out told me make no sense to them ("What do you mean you weren't aimlessly horny all the time in high school???"). I still approach relationships in ways that seem "weird" to allos. I still won't be up to speed on attraction dynamics that are deeply intuitive to allo people, but that require translation for me to comprehend them.

And it's not like I haven't spent a lifetime trying desperately to understand all of this. I want to be in a relationship, a fact that a number of even my very close friends are shocked to learn, because I don't perform the typical social signals around that correctly, I guess. And when allo people give me dating and relationship advice from an allo perspective, it most often feels like I'm being offered an array of cow tools. What I actually need (if I may spaghettify this metaphor) is an array of bat tools. They won't necessarily look less odd, but they'll at least be the right tools for me.