#and also entirely useless all it makes them is afraid?

[areyoudoingthis]

that post about how if you don't value someone to ask for their advice why would you accept their criticism really changed my perspective about things

[chimerafeathers]

i really love how intensely Mirabelle reacts to act 5 Siffrin botched friendquest.

Isabeau is mostly operating out of concern and, eventually, hurt. he already knows something’s up before Siffrin gets to him. he knows something truly awful must be wrong for Siffrin to be lashing out like they are, and as soon as he can’t handle the situation anymore, he leaves and asks (with strained cheer) for time apart to cool off.

most of Bonnie’s anger comes from being upset and afraid that Siffrin would willingly put themself in danger for no reason, when that’s exactly why they’ve been so unsettled since the eye incident. they hate that Siffrin values their own life so little, they hate that they’re the cause of any pain or loss for him, and here he is, putting himself in that situation AGAIN. on purpose. it’s loud and explosive, but it’s familiar, too, being “hated” by Bonnie for this reason.

Odile pushes, and keeps pushing, until her concern overwhelms Siffrin and they strike where they know she’s most vulnerable. she gets physical, just for a moment, grabbing his collar before controlling herself and letting go. her fury shuts down into cold detachment, and she walks away.

but Mirabelle—dear, sweet, gentle, loving Mirabelle, “the most wonderful being on earth,” with her secret “ruthless side” that largely involves lightly badmouthing people behind their backs and then apologizing—slaps them. immediately.

and then COMPLETELY RENOUNCES THEIR FRIENDSHIP.

not just “we’re not friends anymore,” but “we were never friends in the first place.”

that’s!!! pretty extreme!!!!

of course, she ALSO starts by asking what’s wrong. something must have happened for him to act like this. but as soon as Siffrin brushes her off, she jumps past that line of questioning and dives headfirst into re-evaluating everything she thought she knew about them as a a person.

if he could say something like that to her and not see anything wrong with it, then she was wrong to treat him as a friend, wrong to read camaraderie into his teasing, wrong to think they must care about them all under their aloof demeanor.

that’s how Mirabelle phrases it—“I was wrong about you”—but i think that there’s a hidden layer of I was right about you, too.

she talks about the way they tease her like she had to convince herself that he was doing it in a friendly way. she says they talk like they “know better than her” like that’s a thought she’s had for a LONG time.

“Always soooo mysterious, Siffrin, always talking as if you're better than me! As if you know me!!! But you don't, Siffrin!!! You're just as lost and useless as I am!!! So stop!!! Talking!!! As if you know me!!!!!!”

none of this comes across as a new, sudden way to view Siffrin for her. it doesn’t shock or confuse her. it makes her angry, defensive, almost like she was waiting for something like this to happen at some point. the feeling of resentment, frustration, jealousy, being patronized and condescended to—this is something she’s been actively pushing down and rejecting this entire time, but they’ve given her ample reason for it all to boil to the surface. violently.

Mirabelle’s kindness is not inherent or easy. it’s a choice she’s making. she treats Siffrin warmly because she gives him the benefit of the doubt—refusing to act based on anxiety-fueled, cynical speculation, and reassuring herself that his actions are driven by care and friendship even if she can’t quite see it.

“I was wrong about you” doesn’t mean she always and without question believed them to be a fundamentally kind, caring person from the beginning—it’s that her first, colder instincts were right, and she was wrong to convince herself otherwise.

never mind that she asked what was wrong at first. she barely gives them time to speak in their own defense, to explain what they really meant by what they said. all of her suppressed doubts and frustrations are getting aired out now, now that all the trust she’d so deliberately placed in him has been betrayed. her pain feels bigger than this singular moment, so when she hurts him back, she makes sure it extends back through the entirety of their relationship for him, too.

“You're awful. You're not my friend, not my ally, not anything. You never were.”

like the others, she goes back to the clocktower and tells Siffrin not to come back until later. but there’s a finality to the way she ends this confrontation that isn’t quite there with the others. Isabeau and Odile reach their breaking point and remove themselves from the situation, asking for space to cool off but still somewhat leaving the door open for Siffrin to tell them what’s really going on at some point. Mirabelle is the only one who tries to fully cut ties—after everything else she says, her “I don’t want to see you until tonight” reads to me somewhat as “I don’t want to see you anymore unless I have to.”

I can’t wait to never see you again.

even back at the clocktower, Mirabelle doesn’t really defend Siffrin’s place in the party when Odile suggests leaving them behind out of concern for their trustworthiness on the most important day of the journey. Isabeau and Bonnie protest out of sentimentality and faith in Siffrin’s abilities and connection to them, and Mirabelle agrees, but…

“I agree, but... B-But would he even agree to come with us, still? Maybe they won't even come back tonight...”

she doesn’t say much outside of that. maybe the stutter and hesitation here are signs of regret about how things happened, but she lacks Isabeau and Bonnie’s confidence that Siffrin even wants to come back to them in the first place. she doesn’t trust that their bond was real anymore. maybe it never was in the first place, or maybe she broke whatever was there herself.

and she’s still mad when they finally catch up to Siffrin at the King! and she makes sure Siffrin knows that—after saving them, assuring him that he no longer needs to fight, that they’re all there for him. she still cares, of course she still cares—she’s still hurt, too, but they can figure that part out once there’s less world-ending stuff going on.

she’s the first to say that they all reserve the right to still be angry at Siffrin later—and that they’ve already forgiven him.

she’s also the first to say we want to stay with you, too. it’s not just you.

she was wrong! she thought they didn’t care but they care so much, it’s overwhelming, it’s world-ending.

i think she’s gonna be wallowing in guilt post-canon the moment she remembers what she said and did TO SIFFRIN and not just what Siffrin said to her. especially now that she knows Siffrin’s exact hangups, and especially especially if she figures out what Siffrin was trying to say.

they put themself through hell out of loneliness and fear that none of the others cared about him the way he cared about them, he was going insane from repetition and exhaustion and hunger and trying to keep them all safe and together, and all they did in the midst of all that was say something kind of mean to her one time (that turned out to not even be MEANT to be mean it was supposed to be HELPFUL they just SAID IT ALL WRONG) and she SLAPPED THEM? and told him that they WEREN’T FRIENDS AT ALL??? how could she!!! she should have known better!! what they said hurt a lot but still!!!

so when they eventually manage to try to talk about it, they end up almost in, like, a guilt competition.

Mirabelle apologizing for how she reacted, that she shouldn’t have yelled or hit him, that she doesn’t want to be the kind of person who acts that way out of anger and she’s sorry that she made Siffrin expect that reaction from her, she should have known better and believed in him more and they only messed up like that because they were losing their mind in a time loop but what’s HER excuse—

and Siffrin going nononono stop I deserved it—(HUH DON’T SAY THAT NO YOU DIDN’T)—and that he should never have said such awful things to her, ever, and she was under so much pressure already with the weight of the country and everyone’s lives and futures and her religion and their whole party counting on her to do this impossible task because she’s the only one who can, all this unbearable expectation and hope crushing her, and they KNEW that but they thought they could skip to the ending as though her feelings didn’t matter at all, like helping her wasn’t as important as saving a little time—

until they’re just. in tears together, apologizing for all the horrible things they did in between complimenting each other’s strength and kindness and resilience and how much they admire each other and saying that no, everything you did was completely understandable, actually, the only one who sucks here is me. which neither of them will accept coming from the other!!

they’re so similar, in ways they couldn’t really understand, before.

warm, affectionate, perfect Mirabelle, the resolute hero, a beacon of compassion and hope for all those around her, who wears her heart on her sleeve, her fear making her courage shine all the brighter—nothing like the insignificant, forgettable Siffrin, too terrified to be known, too fragile to touch, too selfish and disgusting to bear letting go.

cool, mysterious, unflappable Siffrin, the worldly traveler, as charming and silly as they are confident and skilled, who brushed off losing an eye like it was nothing, accepting the risks of this journey with barely more than a shrug—nothing like the anxious, stagnant, undeserving Mirabelle, a fraud and a nobody crumbling under the weight of a mission too important to be entrusted to someone like her, doubting herself, doubting her friends, doubting her mentor, doubting her faith, too weak and brittle to bend and change the way the world needs her to without breaking.

not worth bothering others with their problems. they should be able to handle this alone. stay positive, stay calm. breathe in, and out.

they’ll struggle with it, still—the hiding, the minimizing—but now, they understand each other a little better. they can hold each other accountable for what they leave unsaid.

it’ll get easier, eventually. they have plenty of time.

[guzmanstark]

“I’m not gonna disappear, you know,” Eddie says, lowering his mug to meet Buck’s eyes.

“W-what?” Buck stammers, blinking away like he got caught doing something wrong.

“You keep staring,” Eddie says, carefully, “like I'm gonna vanish. Or go back to Texas without telling you or something. I'm not.”

It’s been hours since Buck met him at the airport, drove him home, made him tea. And Eddie’s felt the weight of his gaze the entire time. Buck hasn’t said much, which Eddie isn’t surprised by, honestly. He’s not really in the mood to talk himself. But there’s something quietly devastating about the way Buck is looking at him. Eddie’s not sure what to do with that.

“Sorry,” Buck says.

Eddie sighs. “Don't apologize, it’s not…I don't mind that you’re looking. Just—you know you can talk to me, right?“

“I know,” Buck says. He’s trying to sound casual but his voice comes out just a little unsteady. Enough for Eddie to catch it.

“It’s, uh, it’s not that,” Buck adds, after a beat.

“What?”

“I don't—I don't think you’re gonna vanish. It's just… you look different.”

“You mean this?” Eddie rubs at his chin self consciously.

Buck’s eyes flicker momentarily to Eddie’s face before his gaze drops again. He nods.

After Eddie got the call, he couldn’t help but blame himself. He should have been there. Maybe if he was, Bobby would still be here—with his team, with his family. Not for the first time, Eddie felt like he couldn’t bear the sight of his own reflection. He felt small, useless. He thought maybe it would get easier with time. It didn’t. And with each day, as the guilt grew, so did the stubble on his face—thicker, darker. An awful reminder of the time that passed since Bobby—

Eddie sets the mug down, afraid it’s gonna shatter in his grip.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, and the words taste like ash in his mouth.

“No it, uh, it looks good. You always look good. It’s just—god, it’s stupid.”

“Hey,” Eddie bumps Buck’s foot under the table, keeps it there. “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s not stupid.”

“I’m…” Buck exhales, “I’m not sure if you’re real.”

Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it.

Buck shrugs. “Told you it’s stupid.”

“No! No, um, I—what do you mean I’m not real?”

There’s a moment where Buck doesn’t say anything, just stares at his own hands on the table, fidgets with his fingers. Eddie waits. Doesn’t push.

Eventually Buck speaks.

“After the lightning strikes, after the uh—“ Buck clears his throat, “the coma. I had this thing I used to do every morning. A-a checklist. To make sure I wasn’t dreaming. That I was still me.” Buck’s eyes stay locked on his hands, and Eddie desperately wishes he’d look at him again. “Ever since he—“ Buck stops, swallows, sniffs. “I wake up and I pray for this to be a dream. An awful, terrible nightmare. I pray, Eddie. And it’s—“

Buck’s hands are shaking. Eddie reaches out, takes them in his own.

Buck finally looks up. His eyes are impossibly sad and impossibly blue, and Eddie is struck by how beautiful he is. It’s a weird thought to have at that moment, but it’s true nonetheless.

“Sorry, this is so embarrassing,” Buck says, a little wetly.

“Hey, it’s not embarrassing, okay? You’re dealing with it. We all are.”

“Look, I know you’re real. I know that. But also just—everything is so different, you know? Nothing makes sense anymore and you look different. And it’s like—like, how do I know I’m not dreaming?” Buck says. “Does that make sense?”

It doesn’t. But Eddie gets it anyway.

He wraps a hand around Buck’s wrist, lifts his hand up to his face.

“You feel that?”

Buck doesn’t say anything, just looks at him.

Eddie closes his eyes, presses his face into Buck’s hand a little more.

“I’m here, Buck.”

Buck’s hand starts moving on his face, careful fingers trace his cheeks, his jaw, his chin. Eddie’s breath catches when a thumb ghosts over his bottom lip.

“You’re here,” Buck says, voice barely a whisper.

Eddie nods.

“He’s really—“ Buck's voice cracks. “He's really gone.”

“I know,” Eddie says, because what else is there to say?

Eddie’s eyes sting. He lets go of Buck’s wrist and places his hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb gently grazing the base of his neck. He wishes he could press his lips to his temple, like he does with Christopher. He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls him in, presses their foreheads together.

They stay like that, breathing together, until their eyes are red and their cheeks are wet. Eventually Buck pulls away, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his cardigan.

“Thanks,” Buck says.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. For—for being here, I guess.”

Eddie wants to tell him that he’s always going to be here. But that’s not true. He's leaving in a few days. He’s always leaving.

“Hey, you have a razor here somewhere, right?” is what he says instead.

“Come on, you don’t have to do that,” Buck protests, and Eddie is pretty sure he catches a small hint of a smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. ”I think I do.”

[luffydotcom]

worst fears

synopsis: one piece characters worst fears in a relationship feat: straw hats (luffy, zoro, nami, usopp, sanji, robin) + ace and law warnings: angst + slight spoiler for ace's past notes: i honestly was a bit stuck for law's part so bear with me PLEASE also yeah not me finally posting things after ages sorry pookies

luffy

losing you.

LUFFY'S worst fear is that when worst comes to worst, he won't be able save you when you need him the most.

although he always tries to protect you, LUFFY has experienced losing loved ones before because he wasn't strong enough, and he never wants it to happen again. he loves everyone in his life so much, especially you, and never wants to lose them. but what if one day he slips up and the cost is losing you forever?

zoro

not being able to protect you.

ZORO'S unwavering loyalty to those he cares about means that he has made it his sworn mission to protect them at all times. in fact, that's practically his main role in the crew - to protect everyone from danger, so he believes he has to always do this right.

he works hard to protect those he cares about, and would never be able to forgive himself if he let something happen to you or was too late to protect you from danger.

he can't predict the future and he can't guarantee your safety at all times, and he hates it. he knows how unpredictable life is and that anything could happen at any moment, which makes him scared of what could happen to you.

nami

being powerless when you need her the most.

NAMI knows what it's like to have no one there to save you or protect you when you're in pain, suffering or in danger. thankfully, she found her way out thanks to her friends, but what if she can't help you?

when it comes to someone she cares about, she can't just rest easy when they need help because she hates seeing those she loves in pain. despite what people think, she would be ready to go above and beyond for someone she loves. she wants to do whatever she can as soon as she can to help you, and she fears that something could happen and make this impossible for her to do.

usopp

being replaced by somebody else.

USOPP wants to believe that he's just the guy you need, but he can't ignore his insecurities that tell him that he's useless and weak all the time. and this feeds into his biggest fear when being with you.

while you don't have an issue with his flaws, to him, his 'negative' qualities and weaknesses mean that he is easy to abandon. he feels like you being with him is just holding yourself back from something - or someone - better.

his worst fear is that you'll have had enough of the 'weak' parts of him, and that one day, you'll get tired of him and just replace him with someone else.

sanji

being a burden to you.

SANJI doesn't just love you - he practically worships your entire being and sees you as flawless and capable of no wrong. he sees you as someone who deserves only the best and nothing less. in comparison, he sees himself as someone who deserves basically nothing.

although you offer warm smiles in his direction and constantly assure him how much you care about him, he can't possibly understand how you could ever love a 'failure' like him.

he hates himself for thinking it, but he sometimes is afraid that your feelings are just fake or out of pity for someone like him. his biggest, worst fear is that he's just a burden to you and someone you're wasting your time on - and that and one day, you'll let him know it by just leaving him for good.

robin

you giving up on her.

ROBIN'S worst fear, in a way, is a little similar to sanji's. she doesn't want to be a burden to you because she can't forget how she was treated her whole life. people around her treated her like a nuisance and a monster just for her existence and where she came from, making her feel like she had nowhere to belong.

it's something she's been trying to unlearn ever since joining the crew, and she knows it's not very likely, but her worst fear is that you won't see her as someone worth fighting for, protecting, or loving anymore. instead, you too will see her as someone who doesn’t belong anywhere.

she's afraid that you'll see her just as how everyone has in her past - a devil whose existence only brings trouble to everyone.

ace

you stop loving him.

ACE has always felt like love is something that needs to be earned, especially for him. sometimes, he can't even believe how lucky he is to have someone like you - someone who doesn't care about the blood that flows in his veins because you know that doesn't matter to who he is.

however, his biggest fear is what happens if that love diminishes for good. he's afraid you'll start to be remember who he exactly is - the son of the world's biggest criminal, the pirate king himself. he's scared that you'll find him a nuisance to be associated with, and stop loving him altogether because of it.

law

disappointing you.

LAW knows that he isn't very openly affectionate and that he struggles to show his his feelings at times, making him appear closed-off and cold to others. although he does know that he really and truly loves you - his worst fear is disappointing you in the relationship because you may feel like he doesn't.

he knows what a healthy and loving relationship is supposed to look like and how other people show love, but he's afraid that he'll fail you by not being able to give you that. he hates the thought of letting you down when you deserve so much better than he is.

[sumiieon]

✦ Season of Love

ノ When the flowers started blooming back as the scent of spring slithers back into our body, whereas the season of love has just begun.

♡ What I think the current Chrysos Heirs' love languages are ⸝⸝ gn reader ⸝⸝ wc: 957

✦ Note ; beware of spelling mistakes and grammar error due to english not being my first language T_T ⸝⸝ while this writing was meant to be romantic, you can take it however you like! (platonic or romantic.) ⸝⸝ I won't write for Tribbios in this one! ⸝⸝ I apologize if they're ooc because this is my first time writing them

♡ Phainon, The Hero ノ Words of Affirmation ⸝⸝ Acts of Service (Physical Touch might work for him too,,)

For whatever reason it is, I see Phainon as the kind of guy to shower you with compliments that you totally deserve while carrying all the stuff you were struggling to carry with ease. Would always get down on one knee and kiss your knuckles like they're a treasure for him (Like you yourself isn't a treasure he holds dear already), if not that then bridal carries you.

Phainon is protective of you; you could trip and get a scar that is barely a scratch on your being and he would get into a teary-eyed dramatic frenzy panic. You can many times assure him that you are very much okay and he will still worry dead for you.

"Are you okay?! Do you need me to carry you up?! Should we go see a doctor?!?-" "Phainon, it's just a scratch."

Overall a massive head over heels sweetheart that is afraid of losing his loved one and would give his life away to protect you <3

♡ Aglaea, The Weaver ノ Gifts Giving ⸝⸝ Quality Time Okay I know this might not sound like it makes sense, but imagine juuust imagine Aglaea making clothes and/or accessories that reminds her of you and then gifting them to you. She will come across a fabric and then once it reminds her of you, even for the tiniest things ever, she will start sewing and sewing and then boom, an entire set for you just the next day standing at the corner of your room.

Aside from bathing together, Aglaea loves hearing your voice. As a demigod with a duty to protect Okhema, she will obviously be busy and that's no doubt, but she will somehow always leave a room in her busy schedule for you. For you, she will even endure the stupidest of the stupidest questions ever.

"Aglaea, what if the golden blood in the Chrysos Heir's bath is actually piss?" "Yes, My Dear."

You might be an idiot, but you're her idiot <3

♡ Mydeimos, The Undying ノ Acts of Service ⸝⸝ Gifts Giving It's no doubt that the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos prefers to let his actions speak for him because words have failed him multiple times already. While he may not verbally express his love for you much, Mydei would slay a god for you and hand you their heart as a gift. I'm just kidding, he's not just a hot headed brute. But, still, he will give you gifts that reminds him of you, or just things you like generally. Oh you were walking together and he heard you gushing over something of your interest? You will find that same said thing the next day you wake up placed on your nightstand.

Mydei will remember things about you, even ones that are tiny and useless. He will remember the precise number of the plushies in your room and your breakfast routine if you tell him. Would tag you along to have a bite at the restaurant that serves his favourite pancake, and would let you know that he actually likes the pink in his pomegranate juice. While Mydei becomes more gentle with you around, he also gets extra protective of you, by nature. Nobody really mess with you unless they have a death wish because of this.

"What? No no! Mydei is actually super nice! You just need to get to know him to see that side." *radiates passively agressive aura*

By the end, Mydei softens around you like a lion turning into a house-cat. His sarcastic remarks stays though! <3 /hj

♡ Castorice, Servant of Death ノ Quality Time ⸝⸝ Words of Affirmation Due to her curse, Castorice has been deprived of physical contacts for so long throughout her life. She is well aware of this, and because of it too, makes sure you physically keep your distance away from her at least a little. Not because she has any grudges against you obviously! The Servant, in fact, loves you very very much and deeply wishes she could hold you and vice versa. When it comes to this, Castorice makes a plushie resembling you for her to hold at hard times.

While she's incapable of touching you in fear of sending you to the not-so-sweet embrace of death, Castorice loves spending time with you. You two could sit under the white gazebo nestled at the garden of Marmoreal Palace, and she would tell you all sorts of story revolving around the history of the Titans and more. If not that, then she will make accessories together with you. Aside from that, Castorice showers you with sweet words that she wishes you know of too.

"[Name], I sincerely hope you are aware of just how blessed I am to be in your presence.." "I love you too, Castorice."

Castorice might be cursed with the touch of death, but just by your existence had the burden on her shoulders be lifted off slightly and The Servant is very grateful of it <3

© fleuriion ― please refrain from ; plagiarizing, ai usage, repost without credits ― positive interactions are always welcome!

[absurdthirst]

Stuck {Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Language, preconceived judgements, stranger danger, slight timidity, panic attack, claustrophobia, kissing, thigh riding, unprotected sex, vaginal sex.

Comments: Stuck in an elevator with a dangerous looking stranger, you lose track of time.

A/N: Part of @toomanystoriessolittletime #47minutesinheaven writing challenge.

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Fucking piece of shit!” You flinch back from the broad, menacing-looking man who is currently slapping his palm against the broken elevator call box. Something that has been broken for months and the building super has no urgency in fixing. Hating how your pulse has sped up and your breathing is starting to quicken in the smaller space while you come to the realization that the fucking box you are in isn’t moving and you are trapped in here with a stranger. 

You shouldn’t have gotten on. Something told you not to when the doors opened and your eyes met his. You don’t know who he is, but instinctively, your entire body leapt into fight or flight mode. 

He’s not unattractive, but he is dangerous. You can feel it, smell it, seeping from his pores. Only enhanced by the ragged and deep scar that is carved through his skin on the left side. Someone or something had nearly taken his dark brown eye, the wound permanently etched through his eyebrow and down his cheek. It speaks of violence and it made you hesitate for more than a beat when you started to step into the car with him. 

There was a flash of recognition in his eyes. Brief and gone before you could blink. Making the guilt of your wariness force you to step into the small space and murmur an apology for holding him up as the door closes. Pressing the button for your floor isn’t necessary, not when it’s already lit up and you quickly avert your eyes away from him. 

Moving into this building has been nothing but a pain in his ass. Pero growls as he glares at the doors, willing them to open and let him off this infernal thing. He had assumed the fucking elevators would work, as much rent as they are charging. It was robbery and he pulls out his phone to see about calling emergency services, only to find out that it’s dead. “Fuck!” He hisses, whirling around and watching as the woman who clearly wanted to be anywhere else nearly jumps out of her skin. 

A new place, a new life. Same bullshit. He couldn’t miss the way she hesitated, fear coiling in her body when she saw him. It shouldn’t affect him, but sometimes - sometimes it gets to him. Especially when a pretty lady won’t look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds. 

“You have a phone?” The question is practically spat, making you jump and look up in horror. Almost afraid of what you might see. All you see is an annoyed man and you realize that the words are spoken with an accent. You hadn’t recognized it when he was cursing, but you can hear the roll of his speech. “W-what?” You stammer. 

Pero rolls his eyes and holds up his useless piece of crap. “Phone?” He repeats, waving it towards her slightly. “Mine is dead and the one in the box is useless.” He huffs, wondering if she is just that scared or that timid. It’s a shame, because she’s his type physically. 

“Oh- uh-” You are a little ashamed that you are so fucking shaken by this man, but you start to dig into your bag for your own phone. Introducing yourself nervously as you root around for it, fingers starting to shake as you search. Hating how you are jittery and feeling like you are under a microscope. “Here.” You offer it to him, but he shakes his head. 

“Your phone, pajarito.” He grunts. “Call the fire department.” He shakes his head. “I already want to break my lease if this is how things are going to be in this shithole.” He stops himself from complaining, something that William always said made people even more wary of him. “I am Pero Tovar.” He adds, remembering how you had introduced yourself just moments ago. You have a pretty name. 

“Okay.” You pull your arm back and open your phone, trying to think as you try to decide if you need to call 9-1-1 or just the non emergency line. 

“The number is nine-” Pero starts, watching with a small smirk when your head snaps up and you shoot him a glare. Annoyance overriding whatever fear you have. 

“I know the fucking number.” You snap, rolling your eyes. “I was trying to decide if this was an emergency or not.” 

“I would say being stuck in an elevator fifty feet above the ground with no way of knowing if or when the cables will snap and send us plummeting to our deaths is an emergency.” He snorts dryly. 

Your eyes widen, not even thinking about the fact that there could be something wrong with the elevator that would cause it to drop. “Oh god.” You feel like you are going to be sick and you quickly dial. 

“9-1-1 what is your emergency?” Even though you are rattled, you quickly give your address and let them know that you are trapped in the elevator with another person and the call box was broken. You listen as they tell you to remain calm, asking your name and the other trapped person’s name. 

“Uh- what’s- what’s your name, again?” You pull the phone away from your mouth, finding it increasingly hard to look at him, those intense eyes focused on you makes you feel like you are a tiny little rabbit in the sights of the big bad wolf. You bite your lip and remind yourself that he’s not actually been any threat to you. He’s just intimidating and unfortunately, you find that extremely attractive. 

“Pero Tovar.” He gives you his name easily, listening as you give it carefully to the operator and nodding to no one for a few more minutes before you sigh and pull the device from your ear. You look so forlorn he wants to laugh. “Are we stuck in here forever?” It’s meant to be a joke, something lighthearted since he had been so wound up when the elevator got stuck and you were obviously nervous around him. He flashes you a quick grin that you don’t notice. 

“They are sending the fire department.” You stare down at your phone and sigh again. “Don’t know how long it will be.” 

Pero groans and shoves his hands in his pockets, annoyed but he’s not as upset as he had been before. There are some things in life that you just cannot change and honestly? There are worse things than being stuck in this place with an attractive woman who smells sweet enough to eat. “Then we should get comfortable.” He grunts, deciding to sit down on the floor and wishing he had some food. 

You stand there, unsure of what to do and feeling a little panicked. Taking short, shallow breaths, you close your eyes, trying to slow your heart beat down. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” You murmur to yourself. Not seeing Pero Tovar frown at you in concern where he is sitting on the floor.   

You aren’t okay, he can tell that. Obviously about to have some kind of attack. Maybe you are claustrophobic, or something. He reaches for your hand and there's a little yelp you make when he tugs you down.  

“Breathe.” He has seen men panic, the havoc they can cause when they are so focused on what’s wrong, they make mistakes. He doesn’t think you can do anything to hurt yourself here, but he’s not taking any chances. 

“I-I can’t.” You gasp, bag slipping off your arm and spilling onto the floor. “I- I- I-” You can’t even form words, unable to think of anything but the way the small space seems to swell and close in on you. Your knees wobble and you know you are going to faint.

He is not good with things like this. Especially the tears that are making your eyes look wet. Pero growls, grabbing you before you can collapse to the floor and he does the only thing that he can think about doing in a situation like this, he kisses you. 

This stranger kisses you. Your eyes widen and the way the elevator had been collapsing around you vanishes as your blood rushes through your ears, roaring so loudly you don’t even hear the way you gasp. 

It’s like a romance novel, a movie, completely beyond the realm of normality that you would never imagine that something like this would happen to you. Especially in a situation like this. Your gasp obviously gives this stranger an opening, one that he takes easily, his tongue sliding into your mouth. Warm, rich, like a smoky sip of bourbon. Taking it deeper and his hands move from where they were holding your arms to wind around your body and draws you closer to the broad expanse of his body. The terror and panic melting away from the unsubtle coxing of his tongue against yours. 

There is no room for you to fall apart. Not as he guides you towards the back wall of the box you are in. There’s no room for anything but the way he shoves his knee between your legs, making you whimper when the hardness of his leg presses against the most intimate part of your body. 

You should push him away, slap him, curse him for touching you. You don’t even know anything about this man beyond his name, his dark looks and the knowledge that his mouth on yours and his body pressing you into the cold metal wall, makes you forget all about the terror that had been taking hold. 

Instead of shoving him back, your hands grip his shoulders, dragging him impossibly closer and begging with your body by grinding down against his thigh. Your core immediately responds to the pressure and you groan again. 

Mind blank to everything but the almost teasing flick of his tongue against yours and you feel his knee shift, pressing, lifting, giving you more while a hand slides from your shoulder to the front of your body, cupping one breast over your clothes. 

His groan is raspy, sexy. Vibrating against your lips until he breaks free and trails teeth and kisses along your jaw. Breath hot and heavy in your ear as he continues to grind his knee against your now throbbing pussy. “I can make you forget, pajarito.” He promises, voice dripping with sin before he nips your ear gently and makes you moan so loudly it echoes around the car. “I can make you forget where you are.”

It sounds too good to be true, but you already have forgotten how to breathe properly, how to do anything but respond to the pressure of his hand on your breast, back arching to give him more access. Body already answering the question that he is posing. 

“Yes.” Your answer falls out easily, given breathlessly. You would give him anything right now, as long as he keeps spinning whatever magic he obviously possesses to take complete control like this. “Yes, please, yes.” 

Your eyes fly open, a sound of protest falling out of your mouth when the pressure of his knee disappears. Only to moan again when he manages to lift you up, using the wall as he pins you against it. Feeling him working between your thighs and the rasp of his zipper loud enough to make your body tense in anticipation. 

Whoever Pero is, whatever he does, he’s skilled as he manages to push your panties to the side, line up and push inside you in a motion that has your head spinning from the force of his cock. Absorbing your cry with another kiss that threatens to drown you. Walls stretch around his cock as he pulses deep inside you, his growl of pleasure matching your pants and you open your eyes to find his locked onto yours. Watching you as he starts to move. 

The car shakes, something that should terrify you, but you don’t even notice it. All you are centered on is the way he feels. The way he moves inside you. Arms wrapped around his shoulders for stability even though there is no chance you are escaping his grip. Completely lost in the rhythm of his hips snapping forward and stealing every coherent thought when he punches deep. 

You don’t care what happens right this moment, as long as he doesn’t stop. You haven’t seen his cock, but he’s thick, long enough to hit a spot deep inside you that has your legs tightening around his waist. Begging for more when you clench around him and moaning into his kisses while he grunts and pants and manages to look even more dangerous as he thrusts into you. 

Those eyes are intense, searching as he watches you. Lips still pressed to yours, it’s like he’s reading your mind as he hitches you up higher and starts to fuck you harder. Pushing deeper, your back against the wall as you take his cock. 

He’s got incredible strength, holding you up, even though you would realize later on that it’s easy to do when you are braced against the wall. Using the leverage to hold you up. Stamina impressive because he’s lasted longer than the normal ten pump chumps that have made up your dating life. 

This stranger is giving you the best sex of your life. It’s hot, fast, hard enough to have your toes curling in your shoes before one of them just falls off, clattering to the floor completely ignored by both of you. All you can do is be right here in this moment, getting the life fucked out of you by the man you had been wary of when you stepped on to this elevator. 

“Fuck, fuck.” Your head hits the wall as you press back against it, pushing your hips down and at an angle to change the way he thrusts into you. Hitting that spot that has your breath catching and a squeal poised on your tongue. “Right- right there.” You pant, loving how he growls and nods, eyes flickering away from your face to look down between you, memorizing how you are angled so he can keep fucking you like this. 

It’s hot in the car, both of you panting and you see the sweat beading on his forehead. The scar that covers his left eye isn’t scary anymore, it’s sexy. Making him mysterious and you want to know what happened. How he had dealt with whatever happened. You want to kiss it better. 

“Fuck.” You whine again, fingers gripping his shirt and then sliding into the short hair that is curling slightly at the nape of his neck. Almost silky in your fingers and you don’t miss the way that he groans and his cock twitches inside you when you tug on it slightly. 

“Cum for me, pajarito.” He’s not asking, he’s demanding. That whiskey rough voice at a hiss, clenching his teeth and flaring his nostrils as he continues to hammer into you. “Soak my cock.” 

Your body, racing with adrenaline from the earlier fear and now the intense lust that has completely overwhelmed you, completely shakes as you fall apart. The wail loud and long when your cunt clenches down around his cock like he had demanded. Soaking him just like he wanted as you start chanting his name again and again. Fireworks exploding and lights bursting in your vision as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. 

You feel him tense under you, a curse falling from his lips and you moan again. “Safe.” you manage to gasp out and he curses again. Then he’s still, pushed so deep inside you that his hip bones dig into your skin and make you hiss slightly. The throbbing and heat of his cum flooding your womb making up for it and giving you the most intense sense of completion that you can’t do much more than twist your head and press your hips to his as he empties himself into you. 

Time is suspended, you don’t know how long you stay locked together. Kisses small and delicate, unlike the way you had just been fucked. Almost tender now that he’s cum, Pero softens inside you, still holding you up until he slowly starts to let you down. Your legs shake, almost buckling when you put weight on them after he falls out of you. Chuckling and holding onto your waist until you get your bearings and hold onto the railing. 

“Holy shit.” You breathe out, giggling at yourself and feeling slightly dazed. “That was…..”

“STAND BACK!” You jump when you hear a thump outside the doors of the elevator. Fear making your heart race again, hearing voices just on the other side. Pero lets go of you and tucks his cock away quickly and tugs your dress down, even though it had fallen mostly into place when you had stood up. 

Swallowing harshly, you watch the doors slowly open to reveal a half dozen firefighters on the narrow landing of the floor you live on. All of them looking into the car and you can tell there are a few of them that know exactly what had happened in this elevator. There’s a few chuckles and grins from them that makes your cheeks burn. “Come on out.” One of them tells both of you. “The doors were stuck because something was wedged in them.” He holds up a metal clipboard and you bite your lip, wondering how the hell that happened. 

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You can’t look at them, quickly grabbing your bag and the phone that had fallen out of it before rushing out of the elevator. “It was only a few minutes.” You tell them. “Thank you for getting here so fast.” 

One firefighter frowns as he looks over at Pero, brows lifted. “Forty-seven minutes is fast?” He asks, but Pero shrugs. “Guess so.” He answers. “TIme flies when you're stuck.”

[lowryuk]

HELLO! I saw that you’re doing requests now😍

Could I get a ex!bf eren x reader who’s about to get married? But she’s getting married to someone who’s like… useless. No job, no education, nothing really going for him. You’re just in a rush to get married because you believe it’s the next step but when eren comes back into your life, everything changes.

Thank you!

(Also could I be 🪿 anon?)

First request and first anon emoji?! Say less 😩🙏

Hope you enjoy, 🪿 anon <3

OTW

WC: 3.5K

tw: rough sex, cheating, possessive!eren, choking, dirty talk, fingering, toxic relationship, oral (f receiving), angst

Today was the day you’d dreamed of since you were a little girl.

Months of meticulous planning, dress shopping, vendor drama, flower arrangements, and all the wedding stress—it was supposed to be worth it. Your wedding day was meant to be one of the best days of your life, a celebration of two people coming together, ready to build a future.

Your fiancé was a great guy. He was sweet, charismatic, and came from a wonderful family. On paper, everything seemed perfect. In your mind, this felt like the natural next step, marriage, a family home, kids, a stable 9-5 job. You were on the right path. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Yet, no matter how many times you repeated it in your head, it still felt wrong. Because it was wrong. 

Your fiancé could barely hold down a job and had no ambition to further his education or build a stable career. Instead, he dreamed of making it as a streamer. He poured thousands of dollars into equipment while you carried the weight of all the financial responsibilities.

Fuck.

Fucking Eren Yeager.

Always showing up at the worst possible time.

Where was this logic when you said yes to your fiancé’s proposal? How did it take you until now, after everything had been paid for, with only an hour left before you walked down the aisle—to finally realize the truth?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Was it too late to back out now? Your hair and makeup were already done, the final step was slipping into the dress. But you couldn’t. You fucking couldn’t. The thought of stepping into that gown, walking down that aisle, and tying yourself to this life made your chest tighten. You didn’t want this. Not with him.

Or were you just overthinking because Eren was here?

Because one single text from him was all it took to unravel everything. A few words on a screen, and suddenly, your entire perspective on your relationship shifted. You should have blocked him. Maybe then, your heart wouldn’t be sinking with dread and doubt right now. But old habits never die, and Eren Yeager was the worst one of them all.

He was your on-and-off boyfriend, the bad habit you could never quite break. The two of you were stuck in a toxic cycle, one that always left you shattered by the end of it. No matter how many times you tried to walk away, you somehow always found your way back to him.

Until two years ago.

You finally cut contact, determined to move on for good. It didn’t take long before you found yourself in a new relationship, one that felt stable, safe, and predictable. A little over a year in, your fiancé proposed, and you said yes.

Eren didn’t find out about the engagement until a week before the wedding. You had practically begged your mutual friends to keep quiet, knowing exactly what he would do if he found out. Because no one knew Eren Yeager better than you. And if there was one thing about him, it was that he never let go of something he still considered his.

You heard that he tried to move on, that he tried to heal and become better. But relationships never seemed to work out for him. No matter how hard he tried, nothing ever stuck.

So when he found out about your engagement and realized your wedding was only a week away, he scoffed. What a fucking joke.

You hated to admit it, but it wasn’t Eren’s reaction you were afraid of. The real reason you never wanted him to find out was because of your reaction. Because the moment he came back into your life, all those feelings you worked so hard to bury would come flooding back, drowning you in something you thought you had left behind. It drove you crazy. Because marriage, commitment, a future, you couldn’t imagine it with anyone but him.

You tried everything to move on. Therapy, long talks with friends, convincing yourself that this new relationship was what you needed. But deep down, you knew the truth. If Eren came back, if he reached out even once, you wouldn’t be strong enough to resist. You would run straight back into his arms because no matter how much time had passed, that was the only place you had ever truly belonged. 

–

Eren wasn’t going to miss your wedding. Of course not.

You weren’t just some ex-girlfriend he could forget. You were the biggest part of his life, the one person who knew him better than anyone, the one he loved in a way that was all-consuming. His first love, his greatest mistake, his one true obsession. And call him the villain if you want, but he wasn’t about to let you walk down that aisle without a fight.

Because you didn’t belong to that man. You belonged to him.

And he knew, deep in his bones, that you wanted him too.

How? 

Because when his message was marked as delivered, when you didn’t block his number, when you didn’t ignore him like you should have, he knew. You could have deleted it, tossed your phone aside, pretended he didn’t exist. But you didn’t.

You read it.

And that was all he needed.

A slow smirk curled on his lips as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lazily against his phone. You were probably staring at the screen right now, heart racing, pulse hammering, torn between doing what was right and what you really wanted. He had seen it all before. The guilt. The hesitation. The battle between logic and desire. But in the end, you always came back to him.

He exhaled, his green eyes wandering the cathedral. If you weren’t going to come to him, he would come to you.

So why wait?

Eren stood, adjusting his suit and tie, smoothing out the fabric because he wanted to look good for you. With quiet, purposeful steps, he made his way toward the back rooms, slipping past the crowd with ease. He knew exactly where you were.

And you knew he was coming.

The gentle knock at the door sent a shiver down your spine. You didn’t need to ask who it was. You knew.

Your fingers curled against your dress, gripping the soft material as if it could somehow anchor you. If you let him in, this was over before it even began. The wedding. The life you had planned. The man waiting for you at the end of that aisle.

And if someone caught you?

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling sharply, willing yourself to resist. But then, his voice pierces through, low and familiar, the sound wrapping around you like a ghost from your past.

“Can I come in?”

Your breath hitched.

And before you could stop yourself, you were already standing. 

You opened the door, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

Eren’s breath hitched, his green eyes softening as he took you in. You looked breathtaking, the white dress hugging you perfectly, the veil framing your face like you were something holy. He had dreamed of seeing you like this one day, but not like this. Not when he wasn’t the one waiting at the end of that aisle.

He hadn’t expected to get emotional, but seeing you standing there, dressed as a bride, made his head spin. This was real. Too fucking real. He was an hour away from losing you forever.

He could barely maintain eye contact when he muttered, “Don’t.”

One word. Simple. But it was enough to make your throat tighten, enough for tears to well up in your eyes.

“Eren, I can’t,” you whispered, shaking your head, trying to steady yourself.

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded, stepping closer, his voice rough with desperation. “You can. You know you don’t want this. Don’t do something you’re going to regret, something that’s going to hurt both of us. Listen to your heart for once.”

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes. “Fuck you. How many times have I listened to my heart, only to get hurt over and over again because of you?”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t back down. “It beats being tied to someone you don’t even remotely like for the rest of your life, doesn’t it?” His voice lowered, dangerously steady. “Because you can’t stand there and tell me you don’t feel anything. You wouldn’t have opened this door if you didn’t.”

Eren never let you bullshit him. He saw right through you, every single time.

He exhaled sharply, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Tell me. Do I have to sit there and watch you marry another man? Or are we getting the fuck out of here?”

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt.

You knew the answer before you even spoke.

“Let’s go.”

–

Eren’s lips were glued to yours as the elevator ascended, the weight of everything you had just done crashing down on you both. The kiss was frantic, messy, filled with a desperation that neither of you could suppress. It was like you had been drowning for the past two years, and now, finally, you could breathe again.

His hands roamed your body, gripping your waist like he was terrified you would disappear, like this was all some fever dream that would slip through his fingers if he let go. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until you were completely lost in him.

The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open, but neither of you moved. Not until Eren finally tore himself away, chest heaving, pupils blown wide with something unrestrained.

“Come on,” he murmured, voice low and thick with want.

He didn’t have to ask twice.

Fingers laced together, he pulled you down the hall, fumbling with the keycard until the door swung open. And the second it shut behind you, he was on you again, lips claiming yours like he had every right to. 

His hands tore at your dress, fabric splitting beneath his grip as he ripped it apart from the top. If you were in your right mind, you would have yelled at him for it. But right now, you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was being closer to him.

The ruined dress slipped from your body, pooling at your feet, leaving you bare except for the white lingerie beneath. The moment Eren laid eyes on you, his breath hitched. His gaze darkened, pupils blown wide with desire.

“Fuck me,” he rasped, dragging a rough hand over his mouth as if to contain himself. “You were gonna give all this to him? Hmm? He wouldn’t even know what to do with you.”

His words sent a wicked thrill down your spine, but before you could respond, his lips crashed into your neck, hot and possessive. His tongue flicked against your skin, followed by sharp nips that made your head tilt back with a gasp. He sucked until he left deep purple splotches blooming along your throat and collarbone, evidence of his claim.

Large hands slid down to knead your ass, squeezing as he pulled your body flush against his. Then, just as quickly, he lifted you into his arms, carrying you toward the bed. The softness of the mattress barely registered before his weight caged you beneath him.

As much as he loved the sight of you in delicate white lace, he couldn’t wait to see you bare. His fingers made quick work of your bralette, unclasping it with ease. The moment the fabric slid away, exposing your breasts, Eren groaned, his head dropping for a moment as if the sight physically weakened him.

“Eren,” you whined, tugging at his tie, your nails grazing his chest through his half-unbuttoned shirt. “Take it off.”

The way you pouted, eyes round and pleading, made something snap inside him.

“Yeah?” His smirk was lazy, teasing, but his fingers worked fast, yanking at the knot of his tie before hastily unbuttoning his shirt. He barely had the patience to shrug it off because he knew how desperate you were to touch him, and fuck, he was just as desperate to feel you.

Eren barely got his shirt off before your hands were on him, raking over the ridges of his stomach, tracing the deep lines of his abs. He was so fucking warm, muscles tense beneath your fingertips like he was barely holding himself back. But you didn’t want him to hold back.

“Eren,” you murmured, nails digging into his skin.

He groaned, low and deep, before crashing his lips back onto yours, kissing you like he was starving. His tongue slid against yours, claiming, demanding, as his hands roamed lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of your lace panties.

“You know,” he muttered against your mouth, “I should make you beg for it.”

You whined in protest, arching into him, but he only chuckled, slow and dangerous.

“Yeah?” His fingers trailed teasingly along the inside of your thigh, barely there, not nearly enough. “You want me to take them off?”

“Yes,” you breathed, legs shifting restlessly.

His lips brushed against your jaw, then lower, over the marks he’d left on your throat, and still, his fingers didn’t move any higher. “Use your words, baby.”

You huffed, frustration curling in your stomach. “Eren, please.”

His grip tightened suddenly, possessive, like he loved hearing you beg. “That’s my girl.”

And then, with one smooth motion, he ripped the lace away. A gasp left your lips, half-shock, half-anticipation, but Eren only groaned in satisfaction, sliding his palm over your now bare skin.

“Fuck,” he muttered, green eyes locking onto yours. “Look at you.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you again, lips and tongue tracing fire down your body, taking his time, savoring every inch of you like you were something to be worshipped.

His fingers dipped into you, sinking past the tight resistance of your walls, and your back arched instinctively, a sharp gasp slipping from your lips. The stretch had your thighs trembling, pleasure crackling through your nerves like fire.

“Fuck,” Eren groaned, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “So fucking tight. His dick didn’t stretch you out like mine, did it?”

You barely had the mind to shake your head before he slid in another finger, the added pressure making you whimper. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that had your stomach tensing.

A broken moan escaped you, but before it could fill the room, Eren pulled his fingers out and shoved them between your lips. “Suck.”

You obeyed without hesitation, swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself as your gaze locked onto his. His pupils were blown, lips parted as he watched you, completely transfixed.

���Good girl,” he muttered, voice thick with arousal.

Before you could process the praise, he lowered himself between your thighs, spreading them wider as he settled in. His breath ghosted over your slick heat, and then his mouth was on you.

The first flick of his tongue made your entire body jolt, and when he latched onto your clit, swirling, sucking, teasing, you couldn’t stop the way your hips bucked against his face.

“Eren,” you gasped, fingers flying to his hair, tugging, holding on for dear life as he devoured you.

He groaned into you, the vibrations making you shudder, and before you knew it, you were falling apart, pleasure cresting over you in waves. Your body tightened, back arching off the bed as his name spilled from your lips like a prayer.

Eren pulled away, lips glistening, but he didn’t give you a moment to recover. He was already getting up, hands moving in a rush. His belt clattered to the floor, pants shoved down just enough before he was on you again.

His cock dragged against your entrance, teasing, tip slick with your release, and you whimpered, hips shifting, chasing the fullness you knew was coming.

Eren smirked at your desperation, but he didn’t keep you waiting. With one slow, deliberate push, he sank inside, stretching you inch by inch until he was fully seated.

You swore you could pass out.

It had been two years since you’d been filled like this, since someone had reached this deep, and your body clenched around him like it never wanted to let go.

Eren didn’t give you a second to adjust. There was no patience, no teasing this time. He pulled out almost entirely before slamming back in, punching a gasp straight from your throat.

Your body jolted with the force of it, nails digging into his biceps as he set a brutal pace, each thrust knocking the breath out of you.

“Fuck—” you choked, toes curling as the head of his cock dragged against that spot deep inside you, the one that made your vision blur.

Eren only growled in response, his grip tightening as he forced your body to take every ruthless stroke. One hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing it, keeping you exactly where he wanted. The other dug into your waist, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise, as if he was afraid you’d slip away.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his voice rough, wrecked. “Taking me so fucking well. This pussy was made for me.”

Your walls clenched around him at his words, and he smirked like he felt it.

“Yeah?” His pace stuttered for just a second, just enough to make you whine, before he rammed into you even harder, making the bed creak beneath you. “You like that? You like being fucked like you’re mine?”

You didn’t answer, you couldn’t. Your moans were all he got, loud and desperate as pleasure built inside you, white-hot and unrelenting.

Eren leaned in, lips brushing your ear, his breath heavy and uneven. “Say it.”

You shook your head, stubborn even now, but he only chuckled darkly, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing tight circles that made your whole body seize.

“Say it,” he demanded again, voice dropping, dripping with possession. “Or I don’t let you come.”

You let out a broken whimper, so close you could taste it, pleasure teetering on the edge of unbearable. He kept moving, hips snapping against yours, cock driving so deep it felt like he was splitting you open.

“Say it,” Eren repeated, voice softer this time but no less dangerous, lips skimming your jaw as he fucked into you, relentless.

And when you finally broke, when the pleasure coiled too tight to fight it anymore, you gasped it out, barely above a whisper.

“Yours. I’m yours, Eren! Fuck–” 

A groan tore from his throat, and his hips slammed into you with a new, desperate force, like he was trying to fuck the claim deeper, brand it into your bones.

“That’s right,” he growled, breath ragged, his fingers tightening around your throat. “You’re mine. This pussy—” he punctuated it with a brutal thrust, making you cry out, “—mine. Say it again.”

Your body shook beneath him, legs trembling, but you didn’t hesitate this time.

“Yours,” you gasped, fingers clawing at his back, trying to anchor yourself to something, anything, as he wrecked you. “Eren, I’m yours.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, his pace stuttered, like he was trying to control himself, like he was on the verge of unraveling completely. But then his hand slid down, hooking behind your knee, hiking your leg up to spread you even wider.

And fuck, the new angle had you seeing stars.

A sharp gasp left your lips, back arching off the bed as his cock hit even deeper, so deep it felt like he was ruining you.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, watching the way your face twisted in pleasure. “You feel that? Feel how good you take me?”

You couldn’t answer, couldn’t do anything but moan as the heat in your stomach coiled impossibly tight, tension building, about to snap.

Eren must’ve felt it, how your walls fluttered around him, how your breath hitched in that telltale way, because his fingers moved to your clit, rubbing fast, ruthless circles that made your whole body jerk.

“Come for me,” he ordered, voice strained, barely holding on himself.

You shook your head weakly, trying to fight it, trying to make this last just a little longer, but Eren wasn’t having it.

“Don’t fucking hold back,” he rasped, slamming into you harder. “Come. Now.”

That was all it took.

Your body locked up, pleasure hitting you in a crashing wave that ripped through your veins, hot and all-consuming. A sob tore from your throat as you clenched around him, shaking as the orgasm washed over you, leaving you completely wrecked beneath him.

Eren wasn’t far behind.

“Fuck—” he hissed through gritted teeth, hips stuttering as your tightness milked him. His grip on you turned bruising, and then he was burying himself deep with one last thrust, a low groan spilling from his lips as he filled you.

The room was silent except for your ragged breaths, your skin slick with sweat, bodies still tangled together.

Still breathless, Eren leaned down and kissed you, softer this time. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, pressing you so tightly against him that you could feel the wild thrum of his heartbeat. “I fucking love you so much,” he murmured against your lips. “Never gonna leave you, baby. Never gonna let you leave me either.”

Apologies for any mistakes, I’ll edit in the morning with fresh pairs of eyes 👀.

[michanvalentine]

Some of my favorite lines—among the saddest—that Astarion has ever said. Every time I hear them, delivered so perfectly by Neil, my heart aches. I'm sharing them with you because my husband can't take hearing me talk about Astarion and Baldur's Gate anymore!

"It’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me." There’s an entire world behind this line: the expression on his face, the tone of his voice. There’s sadness and resignation. This is how things work—this is who he is. The person in front of him is no different from the others, just another one who wants to lose themselves in him, use him for their own pleasure, and then move on as if nothing happened. Not only that, but it's also the same old charade used to deliver unsuspecting victims to the slaughter. The same old script, one he’s tired of, one that causes him pain. His eyes grow sad as he says it, his shoulders sink, his lips curve downward, and everything about him exudes bitterness. In that moment, amidst sweet words and sensual movements, the real Astarion comes out, carrying all the heavy baggage he’s been burdened with.

"Maybe, but did he take it." Cazador is dead, Astarion won, he’s alive, and he’s free. But the death of his tormentor didn’t turn back time, the death of the monster didn’t undo the damage or return what was stolen. It’s a powerful, terrifying, and painful realization, especially when you think about how these things—these parts of Astarion—were taken and erased. Because what is gone wasn’t just lost—it was replaced with suffering, shame, anger, hatred, and horrific experiences. These are memories that will stay with him for the rest of his un-life, memories he’ll have to battle every single day.

"All right, I’ll do it." The way he says it, after Tav/Durge delves into his mind and uses his greatest fear against him, is utterly heartbreaking. Once again, there’s resignation, but there’s also fear and, worst of all, a hint of submission. In that moment, Tav/Durge is the embodiment of Cazador. They bring back his most horrifying experience, fill him with pure terror, and remind him of how useless, weak, and pathetic he is—unable to defend himself. It makes him feel small again, lost, and willing to do anything just to feel safe. And this is coming from the very person who, up until that moment (unless the player is a complete sociopath xP), had been helping him regain a shred of self-worth and independence. It’s truly a low blow, a betrayal—especially because Astarion depends on Tav/Durge, much like he depended on Cazador, but in a positive way instead of a negative one. They force him, against his will, to do something he doesn’t want to do, and with that statement, Astarion seems to be saying, “Yes, master.”

"I didn’t know how to say no." This one is heartbreaking too, it hits right in the heart. It really hurts, especially in context, but also in general. Saying "no" is a fundamental right of every free individual. But Astarion doesn’t say that he can’t say no—he says he doesn’t know how to say it. And that’s truly sad, because at this point, it’s no longer just an external imposition; it’s something internalized. And of course, it goes without saying that here too, Tav/Durge took advantage of Astarion—of his inability to defend himself, to immediately recognize and stop behavior that should be shut down at the first sign because it’s harmful to him. Once again, Tav/Durge betrays him in the worst way, right after an agonizing confession, no less—Astarion opens up and admits to having very real struggles with sex.

Do you have any favorite lines too? Obviously, there are a billion more funny ones, but I’m afraid I’d need an entire day to write down all my favorites. I just love this little shit too much. xD

[stanlunter]

My headcanons on Arcane characters if they studied at school

Caitlyn:

- she is in the 10th grade

- excellent student, never cheats on exams

- performs all additional tasks to get the respect of teachers and be a good student

- she's good at sports, but doesn't like physical education lessons

- when she doesn't understand something, she asks Jayce for help and he explains everything very clearly

- lets only friends copy her homeworks/tests

- is always neat, wears blouses and jackets

- doesn't like to show off, but everyone knows how rich her family is

- doesn't have much friends, basically only Jayce and Vi, but also has good relationship with Mel

- helped Jayce to get together with Mel

- signed up for all school clubs and extras

Vi:

- she is in the 10th grade

- physical education is her favorite subject

- is really good at cheating on exams

- didn't leave the school only because she doesn't want to part with her friends and gf

- sometimes she skips lessons, but does it well not to have problems with teachers

- she is not stupid and is able to understand some difficult subjects, such as physics, but considers it useless and prefers to do something more "practical"

- only sits with Caitlyn

- considers most classmates very stupid and doesn't take them seriously

- tries to have a good reputation among the teachers so she can cover for Jinx if anything happens

Jayce:

- he is in 11th grade

- he's an excellent student, but he doesn't do anything "extra", even for a good grade

- he constantly argues with teachers, and usually turns out to be right, but they don't always admit it. So he doesn't have good relationship with all of the teachers

- He loves physical education, and loves playing volleyball with Vi

- goes to the same gym with Vi and always competes with her

- allows everyone to copy gis tests and homeworks

- is friendly and sociable, many people like him, but considers only Victor, Caitlyn, Vi and Mel as friends.

- usually sits with Viktor or Mel

- he and Mel are considered to be the "popular couple"

- he was in love with Mel since 5th grade, but they started dating only at 10th one

Jinx :

- she is in the 7th grade

- she often disrupts lessons, but the teachers are afraid to kick her out, and Vi tries to cover her up

- she constantly argues with the teachers, but not to prove she's right, but just because she can

- likes spending time with younger students like Isha

- once when she was studying at the 6th grade she called the fire alarm and everyone still remembers her for it

- skips a lot of the lessons, but still knows everything because she prefers to study by herself

Silco:

- a headmaster who is intentionally trying to make the students' lives worse and is convinced that this is the point of his job

- actually, he's the only reason why Jinx still hasn't been kicked out

- spends the entire school budget on expensive coffee

- he knows that everyone hates him and it doesn't bother him at all

- He only leaves his office on holidays, so only few people know what he looks like.

- he almost never listens to the complaints and opinions of the students, so the teachers don't send anyone to the headmaster except for Jinx

Viktor:

- he is in 11th grade

- he is very capable, but to be an excellent student, he has to work really hard.

- mutually dislikes Mel and doesn't know why (mainly because he believes that Mel has a bad influence on Jayce, but in fact he just wants a bigger friend group, even tho he's actually fine being friends with Jayce and Sky only)

- he refuses to cheat on exams because he wants to prove his abilities to himself

- Found it out that Sky was in love with him only after the graduation

- when he already knows the lesson good enough, he just spends it reading books or doing homework

- usually sits with Jayce, but sometimes with Sky too

- is agree with Jayce in most of his arguments with the teachers, but thinks it's stupid to conflict with them and doesn't like being involved

- Heimerdinger is the "father figure" teacher for him, with whom he spends a lot of time. Singed is also an important teacher to him, but not as close as Heimerdinger

Mel:

- she is in 11th grade

- is a member of the school council

- she tries to study diligently, but is an excellent student mostly due to her excellent reputation

- her favorite subject is history

- she doesn't tell others that Ambessa is her mother and only Caitlyn and Jayce know it

- she is considered to be the most beautiful girl in school

- the favorite of most of the teachers and gets along well with literally everyone in school

- always offres the best ideas in the school council, but because of Silco it is rarely possible to implement them.

- made the first step towards Jayce

- unofficially belongs to the company of "cool kids", but actually isn't really interested in them

- studies well to prove her abilities to Ambessa

- usually sits with Elora or Jayce

Sevika:

- Head teacher

- doesn't like kids very much

- nevertheless, she helps the school council to make the school at least a bit better

- allows herself to be openly rude to Silco, because she knows that she will not be replaced

- she always keeps cognac at school, but doesn't get drunk, she just drinks a little to reduce stress

- leaves work earlier than she supposes too and doesn't what Silco tells her

Ekko:

- he is in the 7th grade

- "the clown of the class", which is why some teachers dislike him

- he is able to express his dissatisfaction when it's needed, but does not argue much with teachers not to get in troublea

- he likes Jinx and Silko doesn't like it.

- is a skater

- has a company out of 7th grade students

- sometimes helps Jinx to make a fuss, but only a bit

Heimerdinger:

- physics & math teacher

- at least half of his lessons are about his life stories and morals

- explains his subject as clearly and easily as possible, so every student understands it

- Victor and Jayce are his favorite students and he sees great potential in them

- the students often make fun of him and don't take him seriously, but he's not aware of it

- nevertheless, the students love him, even Jayce, despite the fact that he constantly argues with him

- he often brings different sweets to the students

- every his lesson turns into a nightmare when Jayce or Jinx visit it. But without them his lessons are as calm and comfortable as possible.

Vander:

- he is a physical education teacher

- there are rumors that he was a school principal once

- all the children adore him, he gives them advices and supports them.

- organizes card games and board games in his office, so it's always fun there

- he communicates with Sevika well, but she doesn't like him

- lets the whole school eat from his refrigerator

- He openly calls Silco a terrible headmaster and constantly talks about it

Mylo:

- he is in the 9th grade

- he's not very smart, but thinks he is and acts as if he is, however he isn't stupid

- is good at joking

- helps Jinx forge documents since Vi refuses to

- secretly thinks Jayce is cool

- is always late at school

- likes to listen life stories of Heimerdinger and Benzo, spends most of his time in Vander's office

- tells everyone that he will leave the school, but he won't

- stopped teasing Jinx the moment Silco became a headmaster

Isha:

- she is in the 4th grade

- spends the free time with Jinx

- she studies at an average level: neither bad nor good

- plays Brawl stars

- she wears a backpack with a lot of pins, most of which were given by Jinx

- the only child whom Sevika loves, but it practically does not show up in any way.

- she really loves school

Claggor:

- he is in the 9th grade

- ia very good at physics

- is always with Mylo

- has a fairly large social circle, is friends with 7th graders

- not a genius, but is a pretty capable student

- never had a conflict with anyone and never got into trouble.

- skips classes only for really good reasons

Ambessa:

- the history teacher

- she's trying to get Mel to study harder, and it's working

- she is extremely strict, everyone is either afraid of her or hates her, and she loves this

- she constantly tells students that they will achieve nothing

- the only teacher Jayce is unable to argue and even Jinx is afraid of disrupting her lessons

Cassandra:

- represents the parent committee

- in the class chat she constantly complains about Silco, but it doesn't bring results.

- sent Caitlyn to a regular school so that she could learn to communicate with regular people and study diligently

- she gets along well with Jayce's mom well and they often discuss their children together

Grayson:

- Engliah teacher

- the is friends with Vander and Benzo, they often drink together on weekends

- the most fair teacher who does not treat anyone with prejudice

- She's probably the only teacher Jayce doesn't try to argue with, because she only tells the bare facts, doesn't impose her opinion, and doesn't state what she doesn't know for sure

- finds a unique approach to each student and students love her for this

- she likes to philosophy, but not during the lessons

Benzo:

- he is a shop teacher

- conducts the most chill lessons

- most of the time he hangs out with Vander

- his favorite student is Ekko

- tells students life stories and gossips among the teachers

- he knows about Ekko likes Jinx and is teases him for it every possible way

Singed:

- he is a cemistry and biology teacher

- is pretty creepy, everyone is afraid of him, including teachers and Silco

- his daughter is homeschooled, so no one has seen her, but everyone knows she exists

- there are rumors that he is doing something illegal in his free time, but no one wants to look for evidence

- he is always glad to answer all the students' questions, even the strange ones and really likes to communicate

Marcus:

- the school guard

- his daughter studies at elementary school.

- he is biased against students and only lets out those he considers good (Caitlyn and Mel) when they need to leave the school during the lessons, but he won't let Jayce out even when he has official reasons for it

- is really strict, at least tries to be

- but it's actually easy to have good relationship with him

- sucking up to Silko and Grace in every possible way

- he considers himself a very fair and excellent security guard

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Thirteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Backstreet’s back, ALRIGHT! Or rather, the Bat Boys™️ sort their issues out. Tathaln’s ball is officially announced. Azriel gives Kaeda a piece of his mind. Fin has no business being the sexy dad he is. Roza’s worried about reader.

Word count: 6.3k.

Warnings: None for this part.

All is silent, save for the rhythmic tick-tick-ticking of the clock. Cassian has always hated that clock. Finds it fucking annoying.

But it fills the vacant hole that exists in the absence of conversation. That hole is open and gaping between Cassian and Azriel. It’s not a table that sits between them — it’s a dangerous, yawning chasm.

Az stares at Cass, and Cass feels uncomfortable. He’s seen that cold gaze be levelled on people hundreds of times, thousands. To be on the receiving end feels a little like staring death in the face. He actually kind of wishes that Kaeda hadn’t been sent off to the dorms to sleep off her drunken state, because at least then he wouldn’t be the only one here, being subjected to…this.

So, he stands up, so abruptly that his chair almost topples over, and asks, “Want me to make you some tea?” The question feels stupid the second it leaves his lips.

Azriel’s eyes track him, drink in every uneasy shift and twitch. It’s not that Cass is afraid of Az — though anybody with half a brain cell would be — just that he’s not good in these situations. Situations where he has to be serious and…and listen.

“Cassian.” The shadowsinger’s cold voice stops him before he can move. “When, in our years of friendship, have you ever once made me tea?”

Cass peers over a broad shoulder and shrugs half-heartedly. “First time for everything…”

“Sit.”

The word brooks no room for argument. Cassian does, indeed, sit.

It’s then that Azriel heaves a deep sigh, his entire body taut as a bowstring, and says, “I’m sorry.”

Cass blinks. “What?”

“I’m sorry—for what I did in the mead hall. I…had no right.”

“…But Y/N and I…”

“It’s not for me to dictate whether the two of you should or shouldn’t lie together. My…jealousy…is my problem, and mine alone.”

This is hard, Cassian realises — for Az to say this. For him to face it. And Cass can relate to that. Not everyone can be as silver-tongued as Rhysand. The Mother knows, Cass himself isn’t.

But he also isn’t an idiot. Some people may believe him to be, and that’s their mistake, because being proved wrong is usually the last thing they remember before waking up to a healer standing over them. He’s aware enough of his surroundings to know that something was brewing between Azriel and Y/N for years before Cass took her to bed…or kitchen counter, or…whatever.

“I need to be better,” Cassian offers, “at thinking before I act. Thinking about who I might hurt with my decisions. I’m working on it.”

Az studies his friend, and he feels no anger. If anything, it’s guilt that claws at the shadowsinger. He gave poor Cass a pretty good hiding over something that was, essentially, none of his business. And it could have all been different if Az simply wasn’t a coward, afraid of his feelings.

Something he needs to work on.

And perhaps he’s doing that as, rather than burying the topic, he asks, “What…what actually happened? How did you end up sleeping together? I mean…do you have feelings—”

“No.” Cassian cuts him off, blinking. “Gods, no. I love Y/N, you know that. But not romantically. I just…I felt so damn useless that night, Az. If you’d seen the way Y/N was…the self-loathing. I didn’t know how to help.”

Immediately, Azriel’s brow pinches. “Self-loathing?”

“Because of what her father did to her. When we were flying to Fenlaros, and she was the only one being carried in…”

Azriel slumps back in his chair, feeling like a godsdamned idiot.

He blinks forward and wonders what the fuck the point is in being born a shadowsinger when he obviously can’t read situations very well. Within seconds, it’s clicking into place.

“And then you started that fight with that Fenlarion male,” Cass continued. “and Kaeda just declared that it was her you were fighting over…and everyone has a limit, you know? I think that night was just all too much for Y/N. And she was so upset, so downtrodden…talking about how she hated herself. And I’m not good with words like Rhys is, and I’m not as observant as you are, but I am good at physical touch. Physical comfort. And it seemed like the only thing I could offer in that moment to take that bleakness away from her. But I should have thought about how you would feel—”

“I’m glad you were there for her.” Azriel blurts, realising, with every word, how much he means them. “I wasn’t. I failed her that night.”

“I really didn’t know that the two of you had been exploring things. If I did, I wouldn’t have done it. I mean…that fight you started wasn’t over Kaeda at all, was it?”

Az’s eyes shutter. And it goes against every natural instinct of his to strip himself bare and just…be honest. Every steel wall he’s ever built up is screeching in its effort to stand strong and not be caved in. And those walls were necessary in a life of darkness and hate…but that life is long gone.

What good do those walls do him in an environment where he has love, has people who genuinely care for him? As much as he wants to run and hide from his feelings as he always has…he thinks that the key to happiness may be on the other side of those walls. That a new bravery lays in letting some light filter through the cracks and warm a guarded heart.

His voice is quiet, laced with a self-preserving fear, as he admits, “No. It was not.”

Before Cassian can offer an encouraging response, the front door is swinging open, and Rhysand is kicking snow from his boots and trudging in. Azriel tenses like a threatened animal — but there is no threat here. Only safety, only love. He forces his shoulders to relax.

The violet-eyed male takes in the sight before him. Goes still as he looks between his two friends. “Please tell me this is a positive conversation.”

Cassian inclines his head. “Work in progress. Why don’t you make some tea?”

“Fuck you, make your own tea—”

“Make me some tea—”

“Kiss my ass, dickhole—”

“I’m in love with Y/N.” Azriel blurts.

It promptly shuts the other two males up.

They turn away from their bickering to look at the shadowsinger. He looks…shocked, by his own confession.

“I’m in love with her,” he breathes.

Cass and Rhys share a glance, and then Rhys is slowly approaching the table, carefully taking a seat like he doesn’t want to startle Azriel out of the moment.

“We know, Az.” Rhys tells him gently. “I mean…I think we always suspected…”

“I started that fight in Fenlaros because I was jealous of that damn male having his hands all over her. Saying the things he was saying. It was nothing to do with Kaeda.”

“You should really tell her — Y/N, I mean. Tell her how you feel.”

Azriel’s eyes trace a mark in the table as he admits, “Kind of already have. When she came to speak to me earlier today.”

Another glance is shared between Cassian and Rhys. And both are equally surprised — figure they would have heard something about it. Unless…unless it hadn’t gone down well.

And now that Rhys thinks about it, Y/N had been tense whilst he’d flown her back to Velaris. Taut in his arms and barely uttering a few words. Perhaps this was why.

“Did she…not take it well?” Rhys hedges. He wants to be delicate, not go blasting in at full-force. So rarely do they get to see such a vulnerable side to Az.

Azriel shakes his head once. “It’s not that, it’s…” He clears his throat. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“How?” Cass pushes, and Rhys shoots him a warning glance.

But Azriel doesn’t balk from it, doesn’t slink back in his seat. Instead, he lifts his head, and he levels his friends with a desperate look.

“There’s more that I haven’t told you.” He says.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

A short while later, Az thinks that maybe talking through his feelings is a good thing. Just saying the words has a little bit of weight easing from his chest, his shoulders.

But Cass and Rhys aren’t saying anything at all. Cass and Rhys are staring at him like he has two damn heads.

And then Cassian sits up, barking, “Tathaln Baralas wants what?”

“Exactly what I told you.” Azriel shakes his head. “He wants me to move to Fenlaros and work alongside him. Has some sort of backing from the High Lord, though I’m not sure how much. In a nutshell, Kaeda’s interest in me has always been driven by her father.”

“I knew that little wasp was up to something. You know she tried to kiss me tonight?”

Az shrugs. Really could not give a fuck. “I figured something had happened from the look on your face.”

“I never liked her. Nor her father—”

“Her father,” Rhys cuts in, “walks a very fine line in presuming to exceed in his role as a Camp Lord. His ego and title are going to his head a little, it would seem, if he believes he has the authority to scheme such ideas.”

“It’s a terrible idea.” Cass says. Neither of the other two noticed him get up, but he’s returning to his seat, speaking around a mouthful of food. “All Illyrians in one big camp? They’ll kill each other.”

Rhys is inclined to agree. But he turns a neutral — maybe gentle — expression on Az and asks him, “Do you want to go to Fenlaros?”

It would kill him if Az said yes. Would kill Cass, too. These recent days of being torn apart by tension has been bad enough. Being in different camps and not seeing each other is an almost unbearable thought.

But they would find a way to live with it, if Az decided he wanted to go. They’d find a way to be okay with it.

Such thick silence fills the room that the thudding of all three of their hearts is audible.

But then Azriel replies quietly, “No.”

Neither Rhys nor Cassian bother to hide their relief.

“I told Kaeda I would think about it.” Azriel goes on. “And I told Y/N that I’d promised Kaeda that. But I don’t think I’ve ever really intended to think about it — or needed to. I think…I think I was just using it to bide my time. To create space for myself and…avoid everything else.”

“By everything else,” Cassian chomps into a loaf of bread, “do you mean facing your feelings for Y/N?”

Azriel can’t deny it. He nods. “It’s not an easy thing to face…to be vulnerable. Hiding behind this Fenlaros situation has just been easier. Cowardly, yes, but…easier.”

“You can’t keep pushing her away, though, Az.” Rhys says. “You can’t let her think that you might be leaving if you have no intention of doing so.”

The shadowsinger’s eyes flutter shut, thick, dark lashes grazing his cheekbones. “Do you think I’ve fucked it beyond repair?”

“No.” Cassian offers. “But you will, if you don’t start handling this the right way. Tell Kaeda and Tathaln to fuck off. Tell Y/N you’re in love with her and want to see her naked—”

“Watch it.” Azriel warns quietly, but Cass continues, unperturbed.

“Just start letting more people in. And I’ll stop letting so many people in, because it gets me into trouble. I think…I think we all need to grow up a little. Do better.”

Rhysand’s brow pinches. “What do you mean, we all do? I’ve done nothing other than put my own pleasure aside to advise you idiots. What could I possibly need to do better?”

Cassian shrugs. “That haircut, for one. It’s annoying.”

“And when was the last time your hair saw a comb, Cassian?”

“When was the last time you were generous and made tea for your good, long-suffering friend?”

“So this is about the tea.”

“Of course it’s about the tea, jackass. Zakai clearly isn’t with you for your observational skills…”

Azriel sits back, allowing their bickering to become background noise. There’s a warmth to the sight, the sound, that makes him realise he never again wants a repeat of this situation — of being apart from his friends for days, tension thick between them.

He loves Rhys and Cassian. Loves them dearly.

Another reason why he could never, ever turn his back on this place.

And he finds himself actually being…grateful…that Cass was there for Y/N that night. That she didn’t have to suffer her self-loathing alone.

There’s still a lot to get through, of course. Daunting emotions and truths to face head-on. But as he watches the two loveable idiots in front of him take verbal swipes at each other, it’s the first time in a while that he wonders if things might actually be okay.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The news is announced the next day, when Lord Devlon gathers a rather colourful bunch of his soldiers in the mead hall and stands at the front, silencing them all with a single shout. Rhys, Cassian and Azriel stand against the far back wall, their arms folded over their chests.

Gods, they hope it’s not another training exercise. Not so soon. Az has things he wants to resolve before he saunters off and possibly gets himself killed.

But Devlon reads the roll of parchment in his hands, a frown contorting his features. He looks up, his eyes very deliberately finding Rhysand as he announces to the room, “A message from the High Lord.”

And every other gaze is then swivelling to turn on Rhys, too. There’s something accusatory about it, like they’re assuming he’s privy to whatever it is their asses have been dragged out of bed to hear.

He isn’t. He wants to be in bed, too.

“Looks like you pricks better get your dancing shoes ready.” Devlon raises his eyebrows. “The High Lord is calling for a ball. Legions from all camps invited.”

This — this is exciting news for the brutish males who could fill the mead hall with their egos alone. Not because they have a particular affinity for dancing, but because amongst themselves, they’re already murmuring about which particular camps they dislike for some reason or other, and what they plan to do about it. So many bloodthirsty streaks are painted in those males’ eyes, stamping out the tiredness that lay there only moments before.

Nothing pricks an Illyrian male’s ears up quite like the prospect of a fight.

“The legions from each camp have been carefully selected, and you lucky fuckers will be representing Windhaven.” The Camp Lord continues, disdain dripping from his voice. He wants his men out there training in the cold, not prancing around a dance floor. “Plus-ones are allowed, also, so it might be time to splash out on a pretty gown for whoever is warming your bed these days. The ball is to be held on Starfall, at a neutral venue of the High Lord’s choosing, and I expect you all to make Windhaven — and me — look good. Any questions?”

“Do we actually have to dance?” One male asks, while another one pipes up with, “Will those pricks from Camp Steelshore be there?”

Rhys shuts out the litany of battling voices as he turns a concerned look on Az and Cass. Their expressions mirror his own. Something about this feels…off.

So while he looks like he’s merely lounging against the wall, hands in his pockets, he sends his inner claws spearing straight for Devlon’s mind. He doesn’t give away what he’s doing, not even slightly, as he roots around in the Camp Lord’s thoughts and grabs for his glimpse of the letter. Rhys scans it, drops the thought, and he’s out of Devlon’s mind and straightening himself up before the male can so much as flinch.

“Let’s go.” He tells his friends, and not Devlon nor the males around them seem to care as Azriel and Cassian follow him, the formidable trio traipsing out into the thawing snow, regardless of whether the meeting is over or not.

They’re halfway back to the house, safely out of earshot, when Cassian finally barks, “A ball? What the fuck?”

“At the request of Tathaln Baralas.” Rhys reveals. “That’s what the letter said. He took the idea to my father, and the asshole is humouring him. This has all got to be part of Tathaln’s plan.”

Cassian scowls and spits his disdain at the ground. “Someone needs to drive a poison arrow through that prick’s heart already. I don’t like this one bit.”

“It’s my father’s intentions I’m worried about.” Rhys shakes his head. “Tathaln only has the power that my father gives him. One word from him and this idea could be snuffed out and never mentioned again. And I expected that to be the case. Arrogant as fuck he may be, but my father isn’t stupid. He’ll know what a terrible idea this is, and I would have predicted that he’d laugh in Tathaln’s face for mentioning it. I didn’t think he’d actually entertain it…which means—”

“There’s something in it for him.” Azriel finishes.

Rhysand nods. “Every single move and choice my father makes is, ultimately, for his own gain. He would never agree to anything if he weren’t getting something out of it himself. Whatever Tathaln has proposed to him…my father will be using it for his own gain.”

Cassian opens the door to the cottage and strides in, forgetting — as always — to kick the snow from his boots. “What, though?” He asks. “What could Tathaln have that your father could want?”

Rhys shrugs and waves a hand, magic promptly mopping up the wet, melting trail left in Cassian’s wake. “That, I don’t know.”

“So what do we do?” Az watches him closely, trying to read the thoughts on the male’s face. His shadows reach out to him, too. “Are you going to talk to your father? Make him see how ridiculous this idea is?”

“No,” Rhys shakes his head. “There would be no point. I could lay a whole host of truths out to my father, and he’d go against them on ego alone. He must want something badly enough for him to be throwing money into it. This ball won’t be cheap.”

“And it won’t be a ball, either.” Cassian cocks an eyebrow. Roots through the kitchen cupboards for food. “Blood will be spilled. And you can’t dance on blood. I’ve tried. Too slippy.”

Rhys chooses to ignore that little scrap of information. Mostly because he doesn’t doubt it for a second. “I don’t want us to pre-empt anything.” He says. “If I go straight to my father with concerns about any of this, it could blow up in our faces, instead. For the time being, I think we should just…go along with it. Watch it play out, and see what happens. My father is unpredictable. Even I can’t tell you what goes on in his head.”

“I can speak with Kaeda.” Az clears his throat. “See if she’ll tell me anything.”

“You have fun with that.” Cassian mumbles, biting into something. “I’d sooner chop my balls off and nail them to the front door.”

“Such a way with words. It’s no wonder, really, that females fall at your feet.”

Cass shoots him a wicked grin. And this…this is nice. What they’ve both missed. This is normal.

“I’ll keep an eye and ear out for anything.” Rhys drags them back to the subject at hand. “But my father’s good at not letting anyone know things until he wants them to know them. And he’s clearly serious about this.”

Cassian swallows. Takes another bite. “And until then? Until we know what he’s even serious about?”

Violet eyes sparkle with mischief, and one side of Rhysand’s lips tips up. “Until then, boys,” he says, “you’d better practice your dancing.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel really hopes she’s not there, but sure enough, when he enters his room at the dorms, Kaeda is sitting up in his bed.

It gives him a little bit of satisfaction to see her look…less than perfect, for once. Her hair is knotted, and even the vibrancy of the red shade seems a little dulled. Her skin is sallow, her eyes bleary. He wonders if she’s as miserable as she currently looks.

She beholds him with a strangely coy look, like she’s waiting for him to rip into her. But if she really knew the shadowsinger, she’d know that that is not his style. He does not shout. He rarely fights physically. His danger lies in his quiet voice and icy stare.

Kaeda’s tired eyes fall to the blanket pooled around her waist, and she murmurs, “You’re angry with me.” Her throat bobs with a swallow. “I understand. But I appreciate you putting me to sleep in here when I was in a vulnerable state.”

“I would have done it for anyone.” Az presses his back against the wall, folding his arms. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

The female merely bows her head. Doesn’t bother to argue.

“I have a question.” Azriel then says. “I’d like an answer.”

“I know that Cassian has probably told you about last night, and all I can say is I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed him. I was drunk and upset and I—”

“I don’t care about that.” He really doesn’t, and it shows on his face. “I want to know what your father is playing at by organising an Illyrian ball. I don’t believe for a second that the gesture is an innocent one.”

She glances down again, but Azriel doesn’t buy the coy act for one moment.

“Kaeda.” His voice is laced with warning. “Tell me.”

“It’s just…a ball. A ball to have all camps in one place, so he can get a good look at what each one has to offer. It’s nothing sinister.”

“So, a chance for him to scout more supporters for his cause.”

“He’s trying to make a change, Azriel. A good one—”

“He’s interfering with lives. Tearing families apart.”

“Good results require difficult choices.” Her voice hardens.

The shadowsinger bites out a cold, brusque laugh, turning away from her. “Mother above, he has you trained well.”

There’s movement behind him. Kaeda is kicking the sheets away and pushing to her feet. And she’s…seething.

“You would laugh in the face of somebody trying to make a positive change?” She snaps. “What reason have you to be so arrogant? At least my father is trying to make a difference. All you’re doing is clinging to a miserable life in a miserable place where you don’t even have a family or home of your own—”

“Except that I do.” Azriel rounds on her so quickly that his wing knocks a fragrance bottle off a shelf. “I may not have your riches, and that’s fine, because I have a group of people — a family I made — who love me enough to care whether or not I come home at night. Who want nothing less for me than happiness and contentedness, and not just to use me as a pawn in some convoluted plan that will do more harm than good. I have reason to be in Windhaven, whether it’s miserable or not. I have love here. So much of it. And there’s nothing — not a damn thing — that would make me turn my back on it.”

Something in his impassioned speech clearly hits a nerve with Kaeda. She goes still.

And she looks…small, despite being fairly tall. She looks…insignificant.

Her eyes fill with tears. One spills over and rolls down her cheek as she whispers, “Please, Azriel.”

Azriel says nothing. Stares at her.

“Please.” She takes a step closer. “I’m not above begging. I…” Her voice cracks. “I need this. I need you to say yes—”

“Your father,” he interrupts quietly, “is playing a very dangerous game. And he’s using you to do it.”

“You don’t understand. I…if I can’t give him what he wants, I’m finished. I’ll have no home to go to, nobody on my side.”

“You already have nobody on your side. You’re his daughter and he’s dangling your livelihood over your head and ready to snatch it away if he doesn’t get what he wants. You’re already finished.”

“Please.” She says again. Tears are streaming, now, and she tries fruitlessly to wipe them away. “Please, just…if this is about Y/N—”

“Do not,” he grits out, “bring her into this.”

“She’s already in this. I know that you want her and not me…that you always have…and that’s fine. Bring her to Fenlaros with you, if you must. I’m sure my father could be persuaded on that. But just…please—”

“You’re not listening, Kaeda. This isn’t just about my family. It’s about all the other families that would be separated, ripped apart by your father’s scheming. He’s power hungry. This is just the beginning of a whole host of self-serving plans that will bring him glory — do not doubt that for a second. People like him are never satisfied, and he needs to be stopped. Not encouraged.”

“You’re wrong.” Her voice is so weak, Az isn’t convinced she believes her own words. “He just wants a better future for Illyria—”

“No.” Az levels her with a pointed look. “He wants a better future for himself. I will not play a part in that, and neither will my loved ones.”

“Azriel, please—”

“I will attend your father’s ball, just as Lord Devlon has ordered me to do.” He breezes to the door, not caring that this is his room he’s leaving her behind in. He stops, palm poised on the handle. “But as for delivering a male straight into your father’s den? You better start trying that seduction on somebody else. Because there is nothing that would make me follow you into that camp.”

He leaves without a glance back. And while it sits uncomfortably inside him that he made a female cry…he can’t help feeling like he’s finally doing the right thing.

About time, too.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This — this is the last thing you ever would have expected of coming to Velaris.

The tonic you’d needed was an extended amount of girl time with Roza. And yet here you are…in the High Lord’s arms.

“This is useless.” You murmur, aware of every single place your body brushes against his. One of his hands is a firm weight on the small of your back, the other clasping yours. “I’m not a natural dancer. Fuck, I’ve never even been to a dance.”

Fin’s mouth tips up at the corners. “There’s that filthy mouth.” His hand lets go of yours, opting to move up to the cut of your jaw, where he allows his thumb to rest on your lower lip. “You,” the pad of it swipes slowly over your mouth, “are going to be exquisite.”

You square your shoulders. Cock a challenging eyebrow. “Is that genuine encouragement, High Lord? Or an order?”

A deep chuckle. Slowly — reluctantly —he lets his hand drop. “Both.”

Flirting with him like this, playing the part of the High Lord’s pet, is a necessary evil. You’re just so surprisingly good at it that you can’t discern whether it’s an affront to him, or to Roza. Or both.

But you can’t deny that you’ve been flattered by his undivided attention this past week. And perhaps he’s been flattered by yours, too.

Mother bless Roza for her undying support. The best you can do for her, right now, is to keep her in the loop. She merely tells you to be careful.

But a week — a week of cosying up to Fin, of breaking through his exterior and appealing yourself to him. You humour him with these dance lessons, with the preposterously expensive shopping trips and dinners, the late night fireside conversations. Anything, everything, to get him to tell you what truth lies behind the excited glint in his eyes whenever he speaks of the ball. To tell you what it is he’s planning.

Perhaps you’re not appealing enough. You are no more aware than anyone else. And that’s really fucking frustrating.

At least your hard work has kept you from thinking about Azriel every five minutes.

Your breath still heaving from your dance efforts, you make your way over to the table of refreshments by the huge, arcing windows that overlook the city. The High Lord’s palace, you have to admit, is a place you might miss once you’re back in Windhaven. You’ve never been one for luxury, never had more than a few things to your name — but the views are what makes you feel like the richest person in all of Prythian. These are not the cold, barren views of your camp, but a place of such vibrancy, it sometimes makes you want to cry. It’s like the setting of a storybook, laid out right before you.

From behind, slow, graceful footsteps sweep across the wooden floor. Fin comes to a stop so closely behind you that his body heat encases you.

Fingertips make contact with your skin, the back of your neck. The sleeveless tunic you wore for your practice now feels like nothing more than a paper towel.

“You have such beautiful skin.” Fin says roughly, and you tense. So far, this week, he’s kept a respectful distance away. Hasn’t put you in any awkward positions.

You pivot under his touch, pressing your back up against the table enough that his hand drops. It’s not entirely for show as you smile apologetically and tell him, “Sorry — scars.”

Such genuine, slicing rage fills his face. The intensity of it almost knocks you breathless.

“I will kill him.” He says the words like a lover’s promise. “With my bare hands, I will kill him for taking your wings.”

He had the power to stop the practice before you were even born. He is very old — over nine-hundred-years — and very powerful. What he says, goes.

And yet…he means it. You can see it. And perhaps you have seen so much unkindness, such brutality, that little scraps of ferocity, of passion, in your defence, make you a blinded fool.

But a part of him — however small — actually cares about you. Enough to mark your abuser for death.

But your father’s blood will soak your hands, and yours only.

You smile up at him, wickedly, cunningly, prettily. “No, you won’t.” You reply. “Because I will do it first.”

And the fury in his stare simmers immediately to a different sort of heat. Your words are a flirtation to him — a cut of raw meat dangled above a hungry, waiting animal. They make him feel something.

“Such a murderous little thing.” His soft laugh caresses your skin. He sounds pleased — impressed. “I like that. I like it a lot.”

“I would hope so. I am to be your special guest at the ball, after all.” A small voice in your head wants to coax him; tell me what you’re planning, tell me what to expect.

But, as always, he steers the conversation away, a vague, mysterious smile on his face. “Do you like it here in Velaris, my murderess?”

“I do, very much so.”

“I can’t help pondering how much you would thrive here. You were made for so much more than Windhaven. Illyria, even.”

A soft, coy smile — one that comes from deep within that part of you that wants the praise, the compliments — that needs them. “Many would disagree with you.”

“Show them to me, and I will twist their minds until they see in you what I do.”

“And what is it you see in me?” A disingenuous little liar. A good actress. A traitor.

Fin leans down, and for one startling, heart-stopping, stomach-lurching moment, you think his mouth might meet yours.

But his lips brush over your cheek in a tender, barely-there caress. He presses a kiss to the skin before retracting. Straightening himself out. The way he slides his hands into his pockets with casual arrogance reminds you so much of Rhys that you miss your friend instantaneously.

“I see beauty that is unappreciated, and intelligence that is underestimated.” Fin says. “And I see a female that I wouldn’t mind having at my side.” His eyes trace you from head to toe. “I wouldn’t mind it at all.”

No response sits on your tongue. You think you might be too surprised by the genuine praise. The fact that the High Lord actually feels some level of affection towards you.

Maybe you’re not so bad at these games.

He turns without waiting for your response, and only when he’s at the door does he make eye contact with you over his shoulder.

“Keep practicing the dancing, my murderess.” He says. “We’ll make a fine pair at that ball.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

If Roza weren’t so worried, she might laugh at the three expressions of outrage that meet her when she strolls into the cottage.

Rhysand jumps up immediately and demands, “Did you fly here? You’re supposed to be resting.”

Roza merely rolls her eyes and shuts the door behind her. “Don’t get your undergarments in a bunch, Rhysand. I’m pregnant — not on my death bed. The babe is fine.”

Her son does not look convinced. Neither do Azriel or Cassian. As if they’re, like, experts on pregnancy, or something.

“What are you doing here, mother?” Rhys stalks straight to the fire and stokes it. Then straight over to the kitchen to make a hot drink. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Mostly.” Roza pauses. “I hope.”

Azriel sits up at that. “Is Y/N alright?”

“She’s fine.” If playing games with the High Lord of the Night Court can be considered fine. Roza eases herself into a seat, and Cassian is promptly propping cushions behind her back. “I want to talk to you about the ball.”

Cass’s lips turn up into a half-smile. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, Roz. Promise.”

“You’d better be. Because I want all three of you looking out for Y/N at that ball, do you hear me?”

The command is a firm one, and yet the three males don’t straighten up at her matriarchal tone like they usually do. Instead, they share a puzzled glance, frowns pinching their features.

“It’s a ball for Illyrian soldiers and their guests of choice.” Rhys explains, carrying a steaming mug over to her. “None of us are bringing her along. Not to that.”

“You may not be.” Roza slides a protective hand over her bump. “But your father is.”

All three males go so preternaturally still, it’s almost frightening.

Rhys bites out, quietly, “What?”

“Your father is taking Y/N to the ball as his special guest. He’s bought her a gown, taught her to dance — he’s serious about this.”

“He can’t.” The shadowsinger’s face is like rolling thunder. “He cannot take her there. All those males—”

“That’s precisely why I’m not attending. He needs someone in my place, and he’s taking Y/N.”

“He can choose someone else.” Azriel’s clipped tone, his panic, is not at all personal to Roza. Usually, he would never speak to her in such a way, but—

But this is Y/N they’re talking about. Y/N in the High Lord’s hands, at a ball with so many Illyrian males, too many Illyrian males.

“Watch your tone, Azriel.” Rhys warns, but Roza is holding up a hand. Because she gets it — the panic.

“I’ve tried telling him to take somebody, anybody, else.” She says. “He’s insistent — absolutely adamant that he wants Y/N.”

“But why?” Cassian frowns.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if his kindness to her is genuine or not.” She shakes her head, absentmindedly stroking her bump. “All I know is that he’s taking Y/N to that ball, and I’m not going to be there. You know, Rhysand, that there is no changing your father’s mind once it’s set. I need the three of you to look out for her.”

Because Y/N is just as much a daughter to Roza as the little girl growing in her belly. They know that.

Rhys inclines his head, reaching out to place a hand over Roza’s. “We will, mother.” He promises. “Whatever game he’s playing…we’ll look after Y/N.”

Roza’s eyes dart to Azriel, to Cassian. “Do you promise?”

“We promise.” Cassian, unfazed as always, grins. “You just focus on the little one, Roz.”

Azriel’s face is grave, but he nods once. “We won’t let her out of our sight.”

Y/N is in good hands with them, Roza knows. She may even be in good hands with Fin, depending on what his true intentions are. Perhaps being at the High Lord’s side is the safest place she can be. It’s an unknown.

But one thing Azriel does know, as he wishes and wishes for this damn ball to just be over already, is that he’s wracked with guilt.

He can’t help feeling like it’s his fault — that his actions, his behaviour, chased Y/N right into a viper’s den.

That he’ll stop at nothing to get her out of it.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

[manager-daylight]

So I have a lot of thoughts about a specific scene in episode 5 of TADC

So first I want to start off with this cute Abstragedy moment as well as analyzing Jax’s reaction to it:

Abstragedy is my favorite TADC ship and receiving so many positive Zooble-Gangle interactions in the new episode makes me feel so happy for both Zooble & Gangle. Zooble is very protective & very comforting to Gangle; Zooble is always there to fight anyone who’d try to hurt Gangle as well as always there to check in to make sure she’s ok.

Though while Zooble is warm to Gangle, Zooble is frequently cold around everyone who isn’t Gangle. I feel like Zooble’s self-hatred has made them become afraid of becoming close to anyone who isn’t one of their favorite people. Gangle is one of their favorite people and Zooble feels much more comfortable getting close to Gangle than getting close to everyone else there.

We also learn in this episode that Jax was very close to Ribbit, who abstracted before Kaufmo:

I’m wondering if Jax sees Ribbit’s emotional instability within the days / weeks shortly before he abstracted in Gangle and sees himself trying to comfort Ribbit in Zooble. If so, Jax feels like all the effort he made to become close to Ribbit was useless / not enough because of his abstraction and thus believes that Zooble’s efforts to become close to Gangle will turn out be useless too if / when Gangle abstracts.

Secondly, I want to talk about how fucking awful the shit Ragatha said to Jax in this same scene was:

Pomni asked Jax if he has any friends. Then before Jax can even respond back, Ragatha answers the question for him saying “NOT ANYMORE”. To be honest, this “not anymore” line is now my new least favorite line in the entire series because it implies these three things all at once:

1. Ragatha believes Jax has no friends

2. Ragatha does not consider Jax to be her friend / Ragatha does not want to be friends with Jax

3. Ragatha went out of her way to remind Jax about a traumatic event in his life that is basically the digital universe’s version of a loved one passing away

And then instead of staying to help / comfort Jax after he got extremely hurt by something she said, she runs away from him. When I saw her run away like that, I actually started crying because that is how fucking awful I found it.

I have made posts before criticizing the mean shit Ragatha said to Gangle in episode 4, but I forgave Ragatha for that and decided to give her another chance because she was very drunk when she said that shit to her. Then Ragatha actually pisses me off even more in episode 5 than she did in episode 4. I regret all of my previous posts saying that Kinger is my least favorite TADC character because I dislike Ragatha much more than Kinger now.

[nayruwu]

full entire analysis of The Shinya Scene in chapter 83

... because in all my years of being here i've only ever talked about it in bits, but now that he's back and my demons have caught up to me i guess it's time to look at the whole thing combined.

and yes, i will be talking about guren. a lot. because whether you like it or not, guren is the main character, and shinya's role to an extent revolves around him. yes, i also wish we knew more about him outside of that, but it is what it is. i'll work with what i've got.

i actually recently saw someone who was wondering why people shipped gureshin, or why they believe shinya is in love with him - and since this chapter was my personal 'awh fuck i guess this is what i'll be constantly thinking about for the next 6+ years'-moment, perhaps when you see someone wondering the same, you can send them this.

let's start with the basics! in case you forgot it all starts off with shinya asking byakkomaru for more power to try and save guren.

yay for character exposition!

normal people's personality traits aside, shinya largely turned out the way he did because of childhood trauma. if your friends are constantly taken away from you, eventually, you're gonna stop caring about others. if emotions like sadness or fear of death will make you more vulnerable to attacks, you're gonna stop being afraid out of pure necessity. the training facility required shinya to care about no one but himself and go through there with an absolute calmness and rationality that protected him but also turned him into an empty unfeeling husk that doesn't really know why it's even alive.

also, lovely touch that it's just always raining inside his heart. i'm sensing he might have experienced sadness of some sort.

don't really appreciate the "yet you still hold burning desires" without any indication of what they might be, although you can guess looking at the following pages.

i'll talk about this topic some more a few pages down, but it's quite interesting how shinya believes reaching for impossible goals is meaningless, pretty much says 'no one cares that you tried if you don't succeed', while simultaneously admiring guren so much for never giving up.

"Though you never managed to make mahiru yours, you still feel nothing." shinya expressed some jealousy in catastrophe about having his government assigned fiancée constantly talking about another kid, but he seems to acknowledge that such a feeling is useless, and eventually drops it. which is also probably how he could talk about it so freely to guren instead of letting it fester and turn into bitterness.

"It is believing that way which fulfills your desires." he knows it's not the only way to think, but it acts as a sort of defence mechanism which spares him a lot of the pain people that experience emotions normally go through. i imagine it feels quite relieving, to be able to save yourself from it.

and oh! byakkomaru asks him a question about himself and shinya grins and tells him he doesn't need to ask these things, because he's his demon, he already knows everything about him! how interesting. let's call back to that later.

interesting comparison here. i think what it really comes down to in the end is passion.

to be quite frank, shinya's entire existence is downright miserable. he was entirely on his own for most of his life, having no one to depend on, being constantly reminded of his worthlessness and stuck in that horrible place he knows he can't get out of. but that's just it. he knows there's no way out, and he doesn't question it anymore. he's accepted it. he doesn't outwardly want or strive for anything. (although of course, byakkomaru needs to draw power from somewhere. so we can assume those other 'burning desires' are sitting somewhere very, very deep inside to the point where he can't even put them into words - considering that when asked about his biggest wish in the official fanbook, he can't think of anything, and instead chooses something that might make guren happy. whatever he wants himself is probably so impossible to him he wouldn't dare reach for, or even dream of it. if you can't get it, 'the effort is meaningless'.)

meanwhile guren, despite the general degradation of the ichinose clan, starts out with much more, a clan that supports him fully, a parent that loves him, devoted followers and a beautiful home - which is all violently ripped away from him one after the other. he suffers so so much within the story, and yet he never stops trying, never falls into that sad routine, never accepts defeat, always burning 'like the sun' in a way shinya can't. and because he knows he can't, never could, he tries to help. he bases his entire self worth on supporting someone he believes to be good.

i do appreciate a good Guren Roast. guren acts strictly on his feelings, which is confusing but incredibly endearing to shinya, who would be long dead if he'd acted the same. which i suppose is why he's looking at him like... that™. a little reminiscent of shinoa longingly staring at yuuichirou and thinking "teach me more", except shinya is a guy, so he's not allowed to blush about it.

he then very casually mentions that he hates idiots, so therefore he hates guren. note this down.

and here we have it. the fucking "person who is a stone cold rationalist but suddenly throws all logic out of the window when it comes to love" trope. in MY shounen manga. fucking wow. all that talk about shinya not feeling anything and only ever acting logically but when it comes to guren he starts contradicting himself. that's certainly not suspicious at all.

alright here we go fuck you fuck you fuck you.

i've yapped on an on about this page way too much, but just for completion's sake:

byakkomaru uses the word "恋" (koi). and i'm not japanese, i don't speak japanese, but my embarrassingly extensive research has concluded that as opposed to "愛" (ai), which is the stable, general and intentional feeling of love you hold for family members or your actual romantic partner, koi is an exclusively romantic term for when you've fallen in love with someone without meaning to, and whom you're not in a relationship with. or - oh dear! - "It can also have a meaning of longing for something or someone." sounds oddly familiar, maybe?

because what shinya actually responds here in the japanese original is "it's just 憧れ". and while this little fucker of a word can be translated to 'deep admiration' (which, of course, fits quite well), it can also be translated to 'longing' or 'yearning' - which is a word that has also been used to describe guren and mahiru's feelings for each other, in which case it has always been translated as longing. huh. funny that.

other than that, let's look at it in relation to what else has happened in this scene!

first off - "you're my demon, you know that!" byakkomaru doesn't need to make assumptions about him. he knows shinya better than anyone else, probably even shinya himself. knowing that, it seems more like he's trying to make shinya acknowledge it, perhaps to pull out more of that desire that he needs out of him, rather than an actual 'well MAYBE you're in love just saying. it's entirely irrelevant but it kinda popped into my mind right now'.

secondly, shortly before byakkomaru's statement, shinya does that cheerful intentionally-lying-through-his-teeth, stating that he hates guren because he hates idiots. which is obviously fucking bullshit, and everyone knows it. he knows it. byakkomaru knows it. guren knows it. hell, my fucking grandmother that i haven't seen since i was seven years old knows it.

but seriously - he spouts obvious lies in a sing-songy voice and laughs off everything byakkomaru throws at him. and we know smiling is shinya's way to deal with stress. (it's quite obvious, but was also explicitly mentioned in catastrophe). acknowledging something like this outright, that you might be in love with your best friend who's also your ex-fiancée's ex boyfriend, that'd be incredibly stressful, perhaps even scary, wouldn't it? especially for someone like him who we just established has survived by not growing attached to people and locking away all strong feelings for most of their life. who's to say that his "it's just 憧れ" isn't also just a lie meant to avoid a direct confronation about his own feelings that is obvious to byakkomaru but not to the reader?

once again we're talking about guren's passion and the fact that shinya really, really wants to help him. awesome.

what's also interesting to note is the part where he says "i completely understand why mahiru chose him over me". something similar is said multiple times in catastrophe, where he goes on about finally understanding what mahiru sees in him and why she loves him. could be 'girls love this guy that's so much better than me i wish i could be like him'. could also be kagami trying to sneak "SHINYA'S FEELINGS FOR GUREN = MAHIRU'S FEELINGS FOR GUREN" past censorship. who knows. not me. i'm just cleaning personell. anyone seen the broom closet?

"Do you intend to die here?" - "Good question." Thank you Shinya very cool.

he really just doesn't give a shit does he. insert another paragraph about how he doesn't have anything to wish for or look forward to. guren come get your passively suicidal emotional support animal.

the statement of never having had a reason to live despite him outright telling guren that his life had meaning because he got to meet him implies that this realisation only came as he was dying. he had to die to be able to see any meaning to life. which is really fucking sad if you ask me, but it lines up with his development in the novels - as soon as you accept weakness you accept that it will kill you. as soon as it all makes sense, it's over. can't have shit in owari no seraph.

despite everything, shinya hates losing to guren. this is something that's always been difficult for me to understand because i can't relate at all and it just seemed kind of childish, but we can actually explain it pretty easily by looking at the circumstances of his upbringing once again. shinya grew up in an environment where not being the smartest, fastest and most talented, where losing meant immediate death. if he's the best, he gets to survive. if there's someone better than him, he'll be disposed of. of course someone close to him that's a better person, is easily loved by so many different people (especially mahiru, who from shinya's point of view was the only reason he was even allowed to exist), can feel like a threat. it's what makes his characterisation so fun to me, because if i just look closely enough, i can explain most of what he does and says. i am nowhere near as good at understand whatever is going on in guren's mind.

aaand this actually concludes my little essay! thank you very much for coming everyone. it was a blast. feel free to leave some marzipan in the tip jar by the door. toodles!

anyway. do i think shinya is in love with guren? yes. i don't think any author would put this much thought into something that in the end is just there for shits and giggles. there's the drama cd too, where shinya uses a phrase that is commonly used in writing to subtly confess to another person (i actually only recently realised it was used in The Stranger by the Shore as well, which is straight up queer literature). his fanbook entry states that he is not interested in women. he can neither sit nor stand up fucking straight. there are so, so many hints if you just look for them. now, do i think it will lead anywhere? although i wish it would, nope. everything that nods to romantic feelings is from shinya's side exclusively, and he's far from the only one that fell for guren. but what i am certain of is that he is meant to be read this way.

my personal interpretation of him and his feelings in general is that he is aware of them, and although initially it might have been terrifying, he eventually came to accept it as Just The Way It Is. i don't view it as unrequited love in the "senpai will never love me back😭💔" way, because i don't think in this universe he'd ever allow himself to even consider the thought of his feelings being reciprocated (and in the end he is loved back, just differently), but perhaps they're an assurance that deep down he is still human and able to feel like everyone else. of course it's natural that you'd want to be loved back, so we can put that on the "and yet you still hold burning desires" shelf. but well, this isn't based on facts, it's just what i personally find the most endearing to think about!

[niamhthefae]

just reread season 2 up to 120 and i have so many thougts (that people have probably already had but oh well).

just warning you: this will be a long post

willtressor: i feel so sorry for Will, not the him that kissed Monty but the other him. because the Will that died finally got the answer to the question he was too afraid to ask. He died having finally had the realization about everything he'd felt his entire life and why he was the way he was, and just the "that's 3 times. I've never seen you stick your neck out for anyone else" this is the bravest, the most confident, the most WILL we've seen him. He wasn't groveling, he was challenging Monty, he took charge of the situation. For the duration of the kiss, he reversed their roles. I am so proud of him. But this other Will didn't get that. this other Will has to continue on, being scared and thinking he's so inferior to everyone else. in life he was just one of fourteen kids and in death he still doesn't see himself as any more noticeable or important. This Will never got the resolution he needed and now he's going to probably be so confused and continue to feel forgotten and useless for a while (unless Monty does something)

speaking of Monty- oh my fucking god. At first i didn’t like him, and i still won’t completely excuse some of the things he said and did, but from the flashbacks and the past few chapters it's very evident that this is a severely traumatized man. he's fucked up. and we see that he really cares about Will. he can’t admit it or show it in any way that would be recognizable to anyone else but again, i quote "that's 3 times now, I've never seen you stick your neck out for anyone else" i think what we have to remember about him is that he is a deeply fucked up individual and he has probably had to learn how to defend himself mentally, emotionally and physically. this whole thing he does, i think it's because if he makes everyone hate him on purpose then the rejection is easer and he doesn't have to deal with anybody trying to get close, which is maybe why ada and will piss him off so much: no matter how hard he tries to get rid of them they kept coming back and clinging onto him and acting like he hung the fucking moon and stars (or at least Will does). I think the events of episode 120 will make him do one of two things: become better and treat will properly while being a little haunted. or become worse,more scared and build more (metaphorical) walls and only become meaner. (and i'm starting to think it will be the latter. he'll be scared and haunted and all for a few chapters and then he'll start being crueler to cover up his sexuality panic.

prospero -

Prospero- i'm gonna put away my biases for this one (i think he's really fit). First of all, i called the whole plague thing + OCD tendancies (my best friend has really bad ocd and she suspects i have very very mild ocd ESPECIALLY around germs and mould and bacteria so i know what it looks like) anyway onto the serious talking. Seing prospero get slurred and the way he interracts with his family tells us so much. I'm pretty sure we're in the eighteen tens here and many italian and spanish immigrants were not treated the best, especially because of the mass sickness at the time, which i imagine only worsened Prospero's problems with germs and being unclean. People calling him names and treating him as inferior and some people blaming the plague on the immigrants would probably have made him spiral a little. I am so annoyed at his cousin because they've presumably known each other for a while. We know that because this guy knows exactly how to mess with Prospero, so surely he knows that this has been a thing for a long time? Feeling the way that prospero does about cleanliness doesn't happen overnight and while we don't know about anything before this, we can assume that people in the community would know about it, especially if they are family. I also feel so bad for him because people don't seem to understand. They think he's digusted by them or that he wants to distance himself from them or that he doesn't love them, when in actual fact he just has something going on with him that makes it difficult for him to get close to anyone. Weather he's aroace or just can't get close to anyone or express his love because of whatever is going on with him, we don't know. Red and Flynn could take it in very interesting directions either way, or if there's some secret third thing i'm sure it will be fantastic.

[also, in another universe, prospero could have worked with carlise cullen while he was alive. Someone write the fic.]

Quickfire round (don't have as much rambling or analysis for these)

Duke- duke is hiding behind who he is on stage, he's the fearless fortunato and that means that he will keep being reckless and disregarding the safety of himself and others until he exhausts himself and girlbosses to close to the sun. Only then will he learn. I love him, don't get me wrong. I love this silly little french man, but he needs to stop being so cocky and showing off when they are literally about to die for a second time.

Ada- i feel so sorry for ada. For the majority of this fic i didn't like her, but all she ever really wanted in life and in death was to be loved, and damn can i relate to that. She deserved better. She was annoying and bitchy and kind of a pick me but she deserved better. She was like that because she had to be. Do you think she saw the nurse's outfit and was hit with a strande deja vu? Because it was so similar to her maid's uniform. Ada clings onto anyone she can because all she wants is to be loved, but she'll never get the love she craves. She wants to be cinderella, but she won't marry a prince, she didn't even make it out of the cellar.

Pluto: this guy is really just the human embodiment of a cat isn't he? As a manchester girly i love the lancashire representation with this guy, i've been to blackpool like 10 times for various occasions throughout my life. I think it's a tie between him and Will for my favorite character. (also i can't decide if he is just really gender or really fit)

Unrelated but does anybody know the age range? Like are they adults or teenagers? Because with some of them like pluto and morella and maybe Will and eulalie it seems like they're at least 17 but no older than 19. but with some of the others they're very clearly in their early 20s, like Montressor,duke, prospero and Ada are all deffo above the age of 20, as are our main ladies. That's just my perspective though

Anyway's theres a whole recap of my current Nevermore thoughts. So far in order of obsession my ships are Willtressor Lenore and anabell (idk ship name) And i'm gonna be honest i don’t really ship plukalie but i can't remember any other ships.

Quick theory time: what if the reason Lenore hasn't manifested yet isn't the curse or something. The deans said they would manifest when they felt what they felt when they died. What if when she died, for that split second, lenore felt loved, or content. What if the reason why it hasn't happened is because in order for her to manifest she would need to be happy and feel safe. I don't think she's really properly felt any of those things for more than a short while durning her time at nevermore. Never long enough or completely enough anyway, because for either of those things to be fulfilled she would need annabel, and there is no other way for her to feel what she felt when she died.

(btw please bear in mind i started writing this whole post at 11:35 last night and i have exams so my brain is not braining i should be REVISING not thinking about GAY PEOPLE god damn it)

[thebowieconstricker]

Hello! I saw you wanted requests for Lucifer, and I would love any sort of angst where Lucifer ends up comforting the reader, like maybe something happened to the reader, or the reader is just really stressed and just breaks down

Ease My Mind

(Lucifer Morningstar x reader)

masterlist link

AN: To this request: yes yes yes yes YES I just KNOW that he gives the best hugs and is so ready to comfort the people he loves. For this fic, I decided the angst is a little of everything, job struggles, moral dilemmas, and some self-doubt, so I hope I delivered. This isn’t proofread so please alert me to any errors! Thank you for your request! <333

Summary: You have a bad day at work and it triggers a breakdown. Luckily, your big bad boyfriend is here to help.

Tags: Gender neutral reader, could be read as platonic if you reeeeally squint but it’s implied romantic, heavy on the angst, a dash of fluff, Lucifer is trying his best, you guys are precious.

Warnings: Reader is afraid they’re being used by the people around them and they have lots of thoughts about being useless and others not liking them.

Also, the title is inspired by the song “Ease My Mind” by Ben Platt, go listen to it! Enjoy ya heathens!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve been used by others for your entire life.

And now you were stuck in that same cycle in death.

As a young, naive, alive-person, you were desperate for some one to love you. Growing up in an environment where compassion was scare, you decided that the only way to get people to notice you was by offering to help them in some way. A favor, a ride, somewhere to crash, and, for one specific person, a place to hide the bodies. In life, you had gotten so deep into your desire to please others that you had latched onto the first person to give you the time of day. Unfortunately for you, that individual happened to have a thing for serial killing.

Looking back on it now as you miserably walked back to the hotel, tears threatening to fall down your face, you couldn’t think about anything other than how stupid and useless you were. It was your fault that they were found out, your fault that the innocents were dead in the first place, your fault you were stuck in hell and that fucker was still out there.

How much time had passed on Earth? How many more had they killed?

On most days, you could compartmentalize, putting the bad thoughts in a little box and shoving it in the back of your brain, but work had broken you today. You worked for the Vees, specifically Velvette, and it was no secret how they overworked and abused their staff. You were stuck picking up Velvette’s leftover energy drinks for as long as she had control of your soul.

And yet. You thought maybe someday, someday you might make a connection. You might impress her, or surprise her, or something, and maybe she would give you a break.

But no. Today you had been an hour late for the first time and Velvette had screeched at you, calling out all of your flaws and insecurities and bringing all of the horrible memories that you had oh-so-carefully stowed away to light. But you held back tears and did your fucking job, the emotions boiling all day and the hectic office space doing nothing to calm it.

You had needed this cry for a long time, and now there was no stopping it.

Walking along the brimstone pathways, you finally made your way to the rickety Hazbin Hotel. Its incomprehensible height only worsened your now growing headache as you walked up to the doors, grabbing the handles and swinging the heavy iron frame and red-stained glass open.

You immediately started towards your room, but you were blocked by the obnoxiously cheery Princess of Hell herself, Charlie.

Charlie’s not obnoxious, you’re so vile for thinking that.

Shit, the thoughts were getting worse and you could not do this right now.

Charlie, oblivious to your mood, smiled brightly. “There you are! How was work? I’ve got someone here who’s been waiting-“

You shoved past her, bumping her harshly.

“Not in the mood.”

Charlie frowned in confusion behind you.

“But, wait, hey-“ You ignored her pleas and- ah shit, now Angel’s in front of you.

“Hey, babe, you might wanna hang around for a sec-“

You shut your eyes tightly and moved your hands towards his chest, your fight or flight kicking in as you pushed him.

“ANGEL, leave me alone.”

Why would you yell at Angel like that? He’s just being nice.

Shut up shut up SHUT UP

Everything was only getting worse. You bolted to the grand staircase and raced up the steps. As you sped down the seemingly infinite hallways, the tears you had been fighting back for the last millennia finally fell. With a choked sob, you finally spotted your bedroom and lurched for the doorknob, swinging the door open and slamming it behind you as you bursted into your room. You ran to your bed and grabbed a pillow, hugging it tightly as you loudly cried.

Charlie only keeps you here because she needs the guests, you know. She hates you. They all hate you. They wish you weren’t here. You’re just lying there, crying, why would they want you?

The hateful thoughts were all you could hear in your mind. As you pulled your knees to your arms holding your pillow, you wanted nothing more than to disappear. To just pop out of existence and finally be free of the burden of yourself.

Then, suddenly, three knocks at the door.

“GO AWAY.” You screamed, throat on fire from your sobbing.

A voice came from outside. A smooth, relaxed, kind male voice.

“It’s me, hon.”

You froze, terrified. Quickly you climbed to the floor on the left side of your bed, blocking your body from the view of the door. You took several deep breaths, trying to steady your nerves.

“Come in.” You said shakily.

You heard the door creek open, then footsteps.

“Where ya hiding these days?” He awkwardly chuckled, clearly trying to lighten up the mood you were in.

“Just- stay over there.” You were still holding your pillow, and you gave it an extra squeeze.

“I’m a mess right now.” You sniffled.

He paused, like he was thinking. “Well, if that’s what you want, but I hope you know by now that I’m always happy to see you. Even when you’re a mess.”

You felt the bed shift. He was sitting on the opposite side.

Like a child looking for a secret, you turned around to look at the back of his head. His hat was gone, probably left downstairs, and all you saw was his sweep of blond hair.

He made a ‘hm’ sound. “Bad day?”

You nodded. Then, realizing he couldn’t see you. “Y-yeah.”

You watched him nod. “I’m sorry about that.” He fiddled with his cane, his hands tightening and loosening around it. “Would you… like to talk about it?”

You paused.

Lucifer had been a confidant of yours since you first arrived in Hell. He was the one to tell you what was going on right after you died, calming you down and offering you a place to stay. Sure, you didn’t know that he was literally the Devil, but everything about him made you feel at peace. Like you could deal with the hand you were dealt.

Secretly, though, you were waiting.

Waiting for the moment when he would reveal that he only kept you around because he needed you to do something for him.

No one was that kind, or caring, or wonderful.

He wants something from you. Why else would he keep coming back?

You had yet to answer his question. Lucifer sighed.

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, okay?”

The voices were still wringing in your head, you were still crying, and you felt pathetic.

“I- I don’t- fuck, would you please stop acting like you care?” You knew your words were harsh but they were begging to be said.

His posture straightened in surprise.

“I do care! What makes you think I don’t care?” He sounded hurt.

Nice going, you hurt his feelings.

You bent forward, hands covering your face in frustration. A fresh wave of tears rises through your body and you loudly cried out, too scared and angry and sad to hide it anymore.

“Woah, woah, hey, it’s okay, hon.” Lucifer’s voice was nearing your form on the ground, and he was quickly at your side. You could feel his presence beside you.

He sighed in exhaustion. “Listen, I’m not- I’m not the greatest at this, but I’m gonna ask so I don’t upset you. Do you want a hug? Or a hand on your shoulder-“

Your arms were wrapped around him before he could finish his question, clinging to his waist and biting your face in his neck.

“WOAH there- well hey, sweetheart, there you are.” You could hear him smiling as he gently brought his hand to rub your back.

“I’m sorry. I- I’ve just had a shitty day at work and I’m worried about a lot of things and- I don’t want to take it out on you.” You were shaking, but he held you steadily.

“What kinda things are worrying you?” He asked.

And so you told him. In the comfort of his embrace you were able to somewhat coherently explain all the things that had been freaking you out. Velvette’s torture at work, your own moral dilemmas about your life on Earth, and you were just getting into your feelings about others using you when you felt Lucifer’s breath hitch.

He leaned away from you to look you in the eyes and gently put a finger to your chin.

“Honey, I want you to know that I know for a fact that the people here really care about you. Not because you’re an extra pair of hands, but because you’re you. You’re wonderful to be around. People like you.”

He looked at you with a warm smile and leaned towards you, giving you a small kiss on the forehead.

“I like you. I care about you because you’re worth caring about.”

You stared at him in awe, your mind finally at ease after such a chaotic day. Smiling, you leaned back into him to rest your head on his chest.

“Thank you, Luci.” You reached out and took one of his hands, holding it tightly in an effort to show him how grateful you truly were for his words of assurance.

He tightened his fingers around yours and grinned down at you.

“Always, love. Now, let’s get you on the bed, okay?”

You nodded and he gracefully picked you up, gently placing you on the bed. With a snap, you were in comfortable clothing with a warm blanket around you and plenty of soft pillows.

“You want me to hang out for a bit?” He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, clearly sleepy.

“If you don’t have anything else going on…” You offered, already half dozing off.

“Even if I did, I would love nothing more.” With an affectionate grin he curled up beside you, and you immediately went to lay your head back on his chest. As you drifted away, listening to the King of Hell’s heartbeat, you took a deep breath.

He was right. Things were gonna be okay.

You had friends.

You were loved.

[starlemons]

Coffee and Crime ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ PART NINE

Pairing ✦ mafia!bucky x reader

Word Count ✦ 1.1K

Warnings ✦ overall story has a 18+ content warning, MDNI, cussing, breaking bones, torture, murder, violence, weapon use

A/N ✦ Hiiii I'm back lol sorry it took so long for an update life has been HECTIC!!!

PART EIGHT »»» Series Masterlist

A loud crack echoed through the large room, the sound of a man following after it. 

“One more time, who the fuck do you work for.” Bucky hissed.

He towered above one of the men who had shot at you. Sam managed to catch both of the men after their vehicle had crashed. While Bucky was busy with you, Sam had brought them to one of the empty warehouses Bucky owned near the coast. 

“Fuck you.”, the man croaked back.

Another crack sounded, and the man paled, throwing up from the pain soon after. Bucky had broken all his fingers, one by one, for refusing to answer his questions. They were all bent at odd angles, rendering the man's hands useless. 

Bucky’s hand fisted in the man's hair and yanked his head back to stare at him. 

“You realize you still have ten toes, right? I will break each fucking one of them if you don’t tell me who sent you after my girl and I.”

The man's eyes filled with terror.

“Brock, Brock Rumlow.”

Bucky released his head and turned to leave. Nodding to Sam as he departed, the aforementioned man moved from his spot where he was leaning up against the wall, hand reaching to his side for his holster.

“Wait–No, I gave you the fucking information, you bastard!”

The man's shouts drowned out as Bucky shut the door behind him. A loud pop sounded a few seconds later; he was unfazed by it.

His pocket buzzed. Reaching for his phone, a grin lit up his face as he saw a text message from you.

Y/N: Would movie night tomorrow work?

Bucky: Of course, sweetheart.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

You paced in your entryway.

“You’ll be fine, Y/N. Besides, you look great.”, Nat said from her spot on the couch. 

You were nervous about your second date with Bucky. It wasn’t that you were afraid of being shot at again, but it was the fact that you were already beyond smitten with this man and didn’t want anything to ruin it. 

You fidgeted with the hem of the grey T-shirt you wore. You had dressed in pajamas for your movie night, texting Bucky beforehand and making him agree to also wear pajamas. You wore your favorite pajama pants, silky pink ones adorned with tiny purple and red hearts. Your feet were tucked into a pair of fuzzy purple slippers a similar shade as the socks you wore. 

A knock sounded from your front door, almost making you jump. Turning toward the door you hurried to open it. Flinging the door open you looked Bucky up and down. He was dressed in tartan pajama pants, a tight white t-shirt, and black slippers. You smiled up at him happy he was already wearing his pajamas so you didn’t feel out of place. 

“Ready to go?”

You nodded, grabbing your bag from its hook next to the door.

Looking over you shoulder you called to Nat, “See you later!”

“See you guys.”, she waved at you, not looking away from her show. 

You exited your apartment, locked the door, and walked down the hallway hand in hand with Bucky.

The two of you made small talk on the way to his home, the trip going quickly. Pulling into his driveway Bucky threw his car into park and jumped out of the car hurrying to open your door for you. 

“Thank you.”, you blushed, smiling at the tall man.

“Of course sweetheart.”

The two of you ventured into his home, Bucky leading you down a hallway you hadn’t been down yet. Entering the room at the end of the hall your eyes widened. Bucky had a fucking theatre in his house, because of course he did. You thought to yourself that if you too were rich you would totally have a theatre as well.

Several rich black-leather chairs formed rows of four, the screen took up the entire wall in front of them, a popcorn machine popped in the corner, and there was a small countertop in the back of the room covered in different snacks and drinks. 

“This is so cool.”

Bucky felt his chest swell with pride, happy to have so far made you happy.

“Wanna grab some snacks and then we can pick a movie?”

“Yes!”, you beamed at him.

Hurrying towards the counter you pondered over which snacks to grab before selecting (you favorite drink) and a bag of (your favorite chips). Bucky grabbed a package of Reese’s Pieces and a bottle of water. 

You moved towards the popcorn machine before Bucky shooed you away, telling you to sit down and he would get the popcorn for the both of you. 

Plopping into one of the plush chairs you sighed, relaxing back into it and hitting the button to raise the footrest, propping up your feet. 

“How much butter or salt do you wat?”, Bucky asked from the popcorn cart.

“I’m not picky you can do whatever.”

A few minutes later and Bucky sat down beside you, setting the bucket of popcorn on the arm rest between your seats. The popcorn glistened in the low lights of the theatre room, it was saturated in butter, practically marinating in it. 

You let out a laugh.

“What?”, Bucky raised his eyebrow at you.

“Nothing it’s just, I didn’t realize when I said do whatever you want that you were going to drown the popcorn.”, you giggled out. 

He chuckled along with you.

“Hey this is the best way to eat it.”

“Oh whatever. How can you eat shit like this and still like a Greecian statue?”

“So you think I look like a Greecian statue?”, a wide smile plastered his face and he cheekily began flexing his large arms. 

A blush lit up your face and heat pooled in your stomach as you stared at his bulging biceps, almost salivating all over yourself. 

 He laughed at your bright face. 

“What movie a-are we watching?”, you stuttered out. 

“What do you want to watch?”

Bucky, as it turned out, had never seen Interstellar, which you had as one of your top five movies, so you very easily talked him into watching it. At the end of the movie you were a sobbing mess and Bucky sat with his mouth open taking a few minutes to process everything that had just happened in the movie. 

After you had calmed down and Bucky had regained his composure he asked if you’d wanted to stay the night again, an obvious yes.

“Yes of course, but I do have to be at work at eight in the morning.”, you frowned. 

“So what? I can take you to work.”

“You don’t have to–”

Bucky cut you off, cupping your face in his hand. 

“I don’t have to, but I want to Y/N.”

You could have swooned, instead opting for leaning in and softly kissing him on the lips, pulling away and murmuring a quiet thank you. 

The two of you moved upstairs to Bucky's large bed, and quickly fell asleep in each others arms.

PART TEN

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!

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[prestopresto07]

Never known peace

MCD x Fem!reader | Angsty | This happens after ep 100 when shadow knights are more prevalent and Laurence is more emo. This is intended to be Lurence x reader but I'm thinking about doing multiple endings or something. I'm just seeing where this fanfic goes. Also sorry you're right-handed. Also, I'm dyslexic so if you see any spelling errors no you don't.

You were never a knight—just a mercenary, paid to escort someone into the Nether. But instead of protecting them, you were the one betrayed, left for dead in the depths of that hellish realm. And you did die… or at least, you think you did.

Now, you're something else. A Shadow Knight.

Transformed, confused, and afraid, you barely escape with the help of a stranger named Vlyad. But the world beyond the portal is no safer. You don’t know where you are, how you survived, or what you've become. All you know is that you're running—and the fear hasn’t left your bones.

Pain.

Pain was all you could feel. A searing, suffocating pain—every part of you was burning, each breath a struggle against the fire in your chest and the jagged throbbing behind your eyes. The world around you was an endless blur, distorted by the ache that pulsed through your veins, relentless and suffocating. You didn’t know how long it had been. Hours? Days? Time had stopped making sense.

Suddenly, something tugged at you. A sharp, sudden movement that yanked you from the void you were drowning in. You gasped as your body lurched forward, and your feet were planted firmly beneath you, but it took all your focus to keep standing. A hand gripped yours, pulling you upright.

“Are you with me?” A voice, rough and urgent, cut through the fog in your mind. You blinked up at him, struggling to focus through the haze of pain.

You nodded, though your thoughts felt clouded.

“You’re tougher than you look,” he muttered, the faintest trace of a smirk crossing his face. Then his expression hardened. “We need to move. Can you keep up?”

Your throat felt raw, every breath like inhaling shards of glass. But you nodded again, swallowing the lump of fear and uncertainty rising in your chest.

He released your hand and moved with purpose, pulling you through the chaotic unfamiliar landscape of the nether —a place of burning skies and jagged black earth. The ground trembled beneath your feet as you staggered to keep up with him, your mind barely registering your surroundings.

You reached something—a strange, pulsating tear in the air, glowing faintly with an eerie purple light. He stopped before it, gaze fixed on it with a mixture of calculation and caution.

“What’s happening to me?” The question slipped from your mouth before you could stop it. It felt alien, like the words came from someone else. You barely recognized the tremble in your voice.

He looked at you, his green eyes hard, unreadable. Then, with a sigh that spoke of some hidden weight, he spoke. “You already know.”

The pain in your skull flared, your thoughts spinning faster and faster until you thought you might collapse. You wanted to scream, to deny it, but something told you there was no point. You wanted to look away from him, but you couldn't. The pity in his eyes felt like a wound you didn’t want to acknowledge.

You looked down instead, feeling the dirt caked into your clothes, the shredded remnants of what had once been armor now useless and torn.

A hand settled on your shoulder. “There’s no time for that now.” His voice was sharp, urgent. “They’ll notice you're gone soon. We need to get you out of here, and fast.”

He motioned toward the portal. “On the other side... it’s not safe. I can’t promise you anything, but you’ll be better off there than staying here.” He gave you a hard look. “And if you want any chance at survival, you’ll need to stay out of sight. Trust no one.”

The realization slammed into you with the force of a runaway train: your past life, your entire world, had vanished. The home and relationships you had painstakingly built were consumed in a blink, reduced to ashes by the very transformation you had undergone. The job you cherished was brutally ripped away. Who would ever trust a shadow knight? What would become of you now? Were you a danger to others?

The questions bombarded you, a relentless storm clouding your mind. So many unanswered pleas, all directed at the enigmatic figure before you. Who was he, this kind stranger cloaked in emerald? What were his motives? Why was he extending a hand to you when everyone else would surely recoil?

Your thoughts were cut short when you heard the sound of footsteps across the harsh terrain. The stranger whips his head in the direction of the footsteps his expression hardening. He grabs your arm roughly and shoves you towards the jagged portal.

"Wait!" You yell, Your shoes digging into the soul sand beneath your feet to stop him from throwing you through the portal.

"There is no time! You have to go!" His grip only tightens on your arm as he pulls you closer to the purple opening. "I know you're confused. You have a lot of questions but there's no time."

"Just wait," You pull your arm roughly away from him."just- Just tell me who you are. Please?" You ask the adrenalin pumping through you causing this boldness.

There it is again. Pity. The same pity in his eyes from before. You hate it.

He clears his throat. "My name is Vlyad." His eyes meet yours. "I just want to help you." He grabs your shoulder again.

"Now you have to go!" He pushes you forward through the glowing purple gateway. The heat of the nether quickly vanishes, and the world is spinning. Making the throbbing in your head even worse.

Your body collides with the cold ground. The dew clings to the grass and now you. A stark contrast to the blistering heat of the nether. Every nerve in your body protests, the fire still raging in your veins, but now the chill seeps into your wounds, sharpening the pain instead of numbing it. Your right arm throbs—a deep, bone-deep ache. Possibly broken. Definitely useless.

You curl in on yourself, pulling your knees close, cradling your injured arm. The weight of everything crashes down. The loss. The confusion. The overwhelming, suffocating fear. Tears well in your eyes before you can stop them.

A sharp sound shatters the silence—glass breaking.

Your breath catches. Slowly, you lift your head.

The portal.

Or rather, what’s left of it.

The obsidian frame stands in jagged ruin, the last traces of its purple glow flickering and fading. Whatever force brought you here made sure there was no going back.

A low groan escapes your lips as you push yourself upright, gritting your teeth through the pain. Every breath is a battle. Every movement agony. You don’t know where you are. You don’t know what to do. You don’t even know who you are anymore.

Then—voices.

Panic surges through you. You scramble, dragging yourself toward the nearest bush, tucking yourself into the shadows just as the footsteps draw closer.

“What the hell was that?” A woman’s voice, sharp with alarm.

“This isn’t good,” another voice—deeper, more controlled—replies. “There’s been a disturbance in the realm barrier.”

You press a hand over your mouth, stifling your breath. The pain, the fear, the fire in your blood—none of it matters right now.

You can’t afford to be found.

Not yet.

:) I hope you like Lmk if you want a part 2

Here's part 2