#I should also keep track of how many followers I lose from this.

[the-worm-machine]

Kin related self hatred under the cut. If you’re also kin with omori or an omori fictive it’s probably best for your own sake that you don’t read this.

Content warnings for uh idk same as those for the game omori so suicide depression self harm etcetera also major spoilers for omori but whatever.

Also if you have a positive opinion on me and want to continue having such an opinion, probably don’t read. But if you want an accurate opinion of me you should read it.

Edit: I’m feeling a lot better now, so don’t feel obligated to comfort me.

Dear Omori,

What’s wrong with you. What the fuck is wrong with you.

You were never friends with sunny. It’s complete bullshit when you try and say that you were his friend. He never saw you as a friend. Might not have even seen you as a person. Which would be really sad if it wasn’t you we were talking about.

Friends don’t get mad when their friends have other friends. Friends don’t try to have complete monopoly over someone else’s relationships. You know who does? Abusers. Cults. The most disgusting and unforgivable people alive. And you’re one of them.

You know what else friends don’t do? They don’t tell each other to kill themself to manipulate them emotionally. They don’t intentionally weaponize the other’s self hatred against them. They don’t do any of that stuff. Ever.

And it’s astounding to know that there are people out there who know what you’ve done, and still consider you to be a good person. In fact, some of them are probably reading this right now. Hi! I think you are incredibly misguided!

Love(/s),

Omori

P.S. if you read all this and somehow still think I’m a good person uh please try very hard to convince me that I’m not a total piece of shit but only if you’re not busy because literally everything else you could be doing besides this is more important

[whimsicmimic]

once again thinking about my post-trimax legato somehow miraculously survives despite everything au and vashgato agenda aka The Worlds Most Miserable Roadtrip

[kiss-me-cill-me]

Follow Me Down

Pairing: Robert Fischer x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Dealing with Robert's advances feels like a full time job in itself. When he finally pushes you past your breaking point at a company party, you decide that it's time to teach him a lesson.

Warnings: Smut, hate sex, semi-public sex, mean reader, pushy/bratty Robert, kind of switch!Robert, S&M themes, oral (f receiving), face sitting, high heel kink, spit kink, choking, non-consensual creampie, name calling (including one use of "bitch"), workplace harassment, degradation, misogyny, mentions of drinking/alcohol, reader insults Robert by suggesting that he would spike her drink (but it does not actually happen)

A/N: Are New Year's Eve fics a thing? If not, they should be haha. I love New Year's Eve, so as a little early present, please enjoy this piece of absolute filth. Title was inspired by George Taylor's song Come Follow Me Down, which I listened to on repeat while writing the smut portion of this. Thank you for reading, and I'm wishing you all a great start to 2024!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Robert Fischer was the kind of man who had everything handed to him in life, and it showed. He was petulant, unserious, and thoughtless. Or at least, mostly thoughtless; he did possess the very annoying ability to badger the living hell out of someone in order to get what he wanted. And tonight, as was so unfortunately often the case, the focus of his one-track mind was you.

He was trailing after you now, either oblivious to or willfully ignorant of the look of annoyance plastered over your face as you tried to lose him. He barely had to hurry to keep up.

“Don’t be shy asking for my help with closing that big merger if you need it,” he told you.

You grimaced. You knew how to do your job.

“Robert, let’s not talk about work while we’re off the clock,” you said shortly, trying to make your voice as sweet as possible so that he wouldn’t have an excuse to comment on your tone.

You were at the company’s New Year’s Eve party. Ostensibly, this was the last of (too many) excuses littered throughout the year for the big wig executives to drink expensive booze and make fools of themselves on the company dime. And, annoyingly, it was also yet another opportunity for Fischer to try and sleep with you. 

“Okay. Let me get you a drink then,” he offered.

You decided you were done being sweet. You stopped and turned on your heel to face him.

“I wouldn’t leave you alone with my drink for two seconds, much less accept one you’d gotten your grubby little mitts on,” you hissed.

Robert made no indication that he understood what you were insinuating. Instead, he rested a hand on your waist, tugging you just a bit closer to him.

“Then I’ll escort you to the bar,” he said. “And I’ll even keep my hands on you, so you’ll know that I haven’t touched your drink.”

He was disgusting. 

“Why don’t you escort yourself?” you shot back, shaking out of his grip.

You were abstaining from drinks tonight, wanting to keep your wits about you just in case Robert tried to get too handsy. Or, handsier than he usually was. This was a fairly frequent occurrence, and although you were used to it, it still pissed you off. Robert was nothing you couldn’t handle, but the arrogant rich boy attitude got old quick. It annoyed you that you couldn’t say anything without risking the job you had worked so hard for. Unlike him, you hadn’t been born into a world that put you automatically on a pedestal. On the contrary, it often felt like people were trying to kick you off the ledge.

Robert was walking behind you again, thankfully keeping his hands to himself even as he hovered at your heels, and you walked deeper into the party. All around you, drunken coworkers reveled and laughed. There was only about one hour left in the year, and by god the company was going to spend it drinking enough champagne to kill an elephant.

“Come on,” Robert called behind you, still trailing. “Don’t you know how to take a joke?”

You ignored him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. As you wove your way through the crowd, one of the higher-ups signaled to you. 

You jumped at the opportunity, hoping that Robert would at least have the common decency to leave you be while you were talking to a man who was essentially your boss. But of course, rules and manners didn’t apply to Robert Fischer like they would to anyone else. As you talked with the executive about mergers and acquisitions, Robert stood directly behind you. Practically breathing down your neck. You had to bite your tongue when he placed a hand on the small of your back again. What the hell did he think he was doing?

After a few minutes, the higher-up - slightly intoxicated - excused himself and wandered off, leaving you alone again with the man who was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.

“Robert-” you started to bark.

“God, you’re sexy when you talk business,” Robert interrupted.

You were facing him again, his arm still wrapped around you possessively. You caught a whiff of bourbon on his breath. He certainly wasn’t drunk, but the alcohol had clearly loosened his tongue. Usually he wasn’t this forward. You frowned.

“And you’re an unprofessional prick.”

Your outburst almost seemed to shock you more than it did Robert. His expression never faltered, except to allow a small smirk to spread across his lips.

“Sweetheart, don’t flatter me like that,” he teased. “A pretty girl like you could give a guy like me ideas.”

He raised his eyebrows at you as he said “ideas,” lowering his voice a bit. You got the message.

“I’m sorry if I was unclear,” you said, trying not to speak through clenched teeth. “But the only idea I want to give you is to leave me the hell alone.”

Robert put his hands up, pretending to look wounded. Or maybe he was going for shocked. As if you hadn’t made it abundantly clear already just how uninterested you were. He took a step back, to your relief.

“Okay, I can see you need some time to cool off,” he relented. Finally, you were getting somewhere. “But can you really blame me for getting mixed signals?”

You had no idea what Robert was talking about, until he started pointing above him. Your eyes trailed up, and you saw for the first time a little sprig of mistletoe, hanging in the hallway. A leftover from the company’s Christmas decorations. Of all the places you could have been standing… When you looked back at Robert, your mouth was a thin line.

“What are you, twelve?” you asked. 

He just smiled. 

“Christmas is over, Robert,” you said coldly.

As you started to walk away, he called after you.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying!”

Fischer was right about one thing - you did need some time to cool off. Being around him made your skin crawl. It made you feel like you needed a shower and a guzzle of holy water, just to exorcize any lingering traces of him from your system. A gin and tonic would probably have at least some of the same effects. And you were craving one, but you reminded yourself that you needed to stay sharp. Robert had left you alone for now, but it was only a matter of time before he would be back. You settled for just the tonic.

Rubbing your head as you walked through the party, horribly bitter drink in hand, you wondered why you had even bothered to come. So much of what you did was for the sake of appearances. Anything to claw your way ahead. Though of course, even you had limits. Sleeping with Fischer would, ironically, probably end in a boon to your career. But you definitely weren’t about to let yourself sink to that level. 

You looked down at your gin-less tonic, twist of lime bobbing lazily in the bubbles. Why were you even drinking this? It certainly wasn’t for the taste. You dumped the rest of your drink in a potted plant, and set the empty glass down on a table.

This party was a total drag. But, you figured, at least you wouldn’t have to go far to find a little solitude. One of the benefits of working for an insanely wealthy company like Fischer Morrow was that even mid-level employees like you got extravagant offices. Your high heels clicked against the tile as you strode off, eager to leave the maddening din - and Robert Fischer - behind.

You reached your office door, and instantly knew that something was off. Behind the frosted windows, you could tell that the lights were on. The party was on the floor below yours; there should have been nobody up here, much less in your private office. Maybe it was just one of the cleaners, working late. Well, no problem. They would be easy enough to get rid of, and then you could regroup and prepare yourself for the remainder of a night full of fending off Robert’s advances. You pushed open the door.

Really, you should have seen this coming. Of course it wasn’t going to be this easy to get rid of him.

“Robert,” you sighed. You took in the sight of him, sitting in your swivel chair and looking very pleased with himself. “Do I really have to ask you to get out of my office?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he taunted, effortlessly throwing your own words back at you. He winked, and you narrowed your eyes.

You walked over to your desk, large and shiny with a stained walnut finish. It was an expensive piece of furniture, and one that Robert somehow managed to look right at home sitting behind. As if he owned the place. Which was closer to the truth than you particularly liked to think about. 

“Why do you enjoy doing this?” you asked, not expecting a real answer.

“I just like getting a rise out of you,” Robert said.

It sounded strangely honest. You leaned over your desk, staring down at him. Trying to size him up.

“You’re very mean when you want to be,” Robert continued, almost observationally.

You weren’t sure where he was going with this. Sure, you could be mean. It was part of the reason why you’d achieved the position you were in now; you didn’t advance in business by being a pushover.

Robert, you noticed, was currently staring down the front of your dress. You scrambled to stand up, and crossed your arms over your chest. The little pervert wasn’t even trying to hide it. You circled the desk, coming to rest on the side where Robert still sat, watching you calmly. You silently willed him to get out of your chair; to leave your office and give you twenty seconds of peace. He didn’t, of course, and so you took a seat on the desk, crossing your legs and tapping one foot in the air.

“So, what? Do you get off on me being mean to you or something?” you pressed.

Robert shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. For some reason, that infuriated you even more. You hated his smug face; that little smirk he was wearing right now that meant he was getting what he wanted. You had the sudden urge to slap him. Maybe that would teach him a lesson.

“And what about you?” Robert asked. “What do you get out of this?”

“Me?!” You were incredulous. “Christ. What could I possibly be getting out of putting up with you constantly bothering me?”

Robert shrugged again, and your desire to slap him grew.

“Maybe you get off on it too,” he guessed. “Being mean, that is.”

“You think I get off on doing this?” you scoffed. “Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”

“You’re the one who brought up getting off; not me.”

You were really going to lose it. You could barely see Fischer sitting in front of you now for all of the angry red that was swirling through your vision. He thought he could walk in here, sit at your desk, and then tell you you got off on being mean to him? He didn’t know how mean you could be.

“What’s your end goal with all this, Robert? You really think you’re gonna get to live out whatever twisted fantasy you’ve made me a part of in that sick little head of yours?”

“Maybe,” Robert said nonchalantly. You could feel him undressing you with his eyes.

“Yeah? What are you hoping to do to me?” you prodded. You didn’t care what you were saying anymore; you were way past the point of professionalism. “Probably tie me up and watch me try to fight you off, right?”

Robert looked up at you very calmly, holding your angry gaze as he answered you.

“I’d rather have you step on me with those heels,” he said.

You were taken aback.

“Excuse me?”

“I said: I want you to step on me with those slutty little stilettos you keep waving in my face,” he repeated.

You froze. One foot was braced against the drawers of your desk, and the other was poised in the air, hovering just in front of Robert’s knee as he sat in your chair.

“What’s the matter?” Robert asked. “I warned you you’d give a guy like me ideas, didn’t I?”

Part of you was in shock. This was not how you had expected this interaction to go. But another part of you - a corner of your mind that you didn’t even want to acknowledge - really was turned on by the idea of putting him in his place. You grinned.

“What makes you think I’d do that for you?” you hummed, mocking him.

Before he had a chance to respond, you lifted your foot and pressed the sharp point of your heel against the fleshy part of Robert’s shoulder. His expensive suit jacket started to crease. You pushed your heel in a little more, pushing him back just an inch.

Robert’s eyes started to wander, trying to sneak a look under your dress as you sat in front of him, your leg lifted up to press into his shoulder. 

“You’re a pig,” you told him, shifting your foot so that it was in the middle of his chest. 

The new angle made it a little harder for him to get a peek, with your legs more pressed together. Robert’s eyes drifted back to your face, a look of restrained amusement dancing across his own features. He was trying to play it cool, but you noticed the way his fingers dug into the chair’s leather armrests.

“Just another pretty boy in a suit,” you continued, inching the toe of your shoe up toward his collar. 

The point of your heel was right over his sternum, and Robert started to smile. He really was enjoying this, and the realization both repulsed and aroused you.

“Think you can take whatever you want. You need to be put in your place.”

You pushed back with your foot, making Robert’s chair roll a few inches so that you had space to stand up between him and the desk. You planted one foot on the floor, and the other directly over his crotch, pressing in with the dull toe of your shoe. The point of your heel rested on the chair in front of him, between his slightly parted legs. You weren’t trying to impale the poor man, but the devious look that Robert fixed on you as you towered over him almost made it look like he would have preferred if you did.

“Told you y’get off on being mean,” he teased.

You grabbed hold of his tie and pulled his face closer to yours as you looked down at him.

“Robert, if you think this is what a woman looks like when she gets off, I have some very bad news for you. Why don’t you show me what that pretty mouth is good for?”

You pushed away from him, climbing back up on the desk and spreading your legs. The tight black dress you wore rode up your thighs, and Robert instantly dropped to his knees in front of you. He hooked a finger into the crotch of your panties, using it to drag them to the side until you were on display for him.

“You can deny all you want,” he mocked, “but you wouldn’t be this wet if you really didn’t enjoy it.”

“Jesus. Stop talking,” you ordered.

You shoved his face between your legs, and his tongue eagerly came out to lick at you. You were wet - there really wasn’t any denying it - but you didn’t need him pointing out that fact as if he weren’t the one desperately lapping at your cunt. Robert was the pathetic one here; you were really just going along with things to teach him a lesson. If he wanted you to walk all over him, you would make sure he regretted ever crossing paths with you. And if you happened to get off while doing it - well,  you'd just chalk that down as some much-needed stress relief. Dealing with Robert was exhausting.

You hooked your legs over his arms, pinning him in place as he balanced himself against the desk. As much as you hated to admit it, he was good at this. Very good. His tongue was lavishing you; his blue eyes never breaking contact with yours as he ate you out. The way he was looking up at you felt dirty and yet dangerously addicting, all at the same time. Your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as your breath hissed through your teeth. Abruptly, you pulled him away.

“Get on the desk,” you commanded, a little out of breath.

Robert stood up, wiped his smug face, and started to climb up onto the desk.

“On your back.”

He laid down, swinging his feet up so that he was fully spread out across the hard surface. You reached up under your dress to remove your panties. Having him hold them to the side was only getting in the way.

You carefully got up on the desk with him, knees resting on either side of his face.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you scoffed, half for your own benefit.

“Think of it this way,” Robert smirked beneath you. “Isn’t it gonna make you happy to wipe this smile off my face?”

“I thought I told you to shut up.”

You sat down, putting almost your full weight on his face. Robert reached up to grab hold of your thighs, supporting you, and you were actually grateful for it even though it gave him an opportunity to grope at your ass. Your legs were getting weaker every second, and you could feel yourself tipping over the edge.

Part of the thrill was from being in such a compromising position. Before, if someone had walked in, there was a chance that Robert could stand up and you would be able to smooth down your dress in time to avoid getting caught. But now… well, riding a man’s face as he was splayed out on the desk beneath you was a little harder to recover from, logistically.

You ground your hips down, so tantalizingly close to coating his face in your release. Robert seemed to sense your urgency, and dug his fingers into your flesh, practically begging for it. His tongue dragged roughly across your clit, sucking with just the right pressure.

Your mouth hung open as you came, at first frozen in a silent scream and then moaning, sinfully, as an orgasm rolled over you. You seemed to shake from your shoulders down into your knees, and Robert’s tongue lapped up all of your arousal. He pressed his lips to your clit one final time as you slid off of him. 

When your hips were straddling his, Robert sat up to hold you. His hands were hungry, grabbing at your waist as he tried to pull you closer and into a kiss.

“No kissing,” you choked out, putting a hand on his chest to stop him.

Robert didn't try to push past you, just paused and looked up at you with light, teasing eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart. It's New Year's Eve. You're not gonna give me a kiss at midnight?” 

You swallowed, not trusting your shaky voice to respond without giving him more fuel to taunt you with. He didn't need it.

“Even after you already let me wrap my lips around your pretty cunt?” 

Your hand on his chest pressed down, pushing him back onto the hard wood. Robert smiled again, proud of himself for getting to you. He really did know how to wind you up.

“You’re such a typical rich boy,” you spat. “So used to getting anything you ask for.”

“Usually I don’t even have to ask,” Robert corrected.

“Right. Other women just throw themselves at you?” You felt your hatred flare.

He gave you that knowing look again, but kept his smirking mouth shut. You noticed the way your arousal still glistened against his lips. The whole lower half of his face, actually, was drenched, and the sight of it sent a pang of renewed desire all through you.

Suddenly, Robert’s grip tightened at your waist. He bunched up the fabric of your dress, exposing you a little more, and forced you down onto his leg. 

“Use me to get yourself off.”

Already impatient, his hands had started to pull at your hips, making you rock back and forth. The cloth of his suit pants brushed roughly against your exposed clit, still sensitive from his earlier treatment. But still, it felt good. Too good.

“Robert-”

You had opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“Mm, say my name, baby.”

He was so full of himself. Something snapped in you, and your hand flew up to his neck. As your grip tightened, Robert only threw his head back.

“Honestly, do you ever shut up?” you spat.

Despite yourself, your hips started to stutter against him, desperate to rub harder as the pressure started to build in you again. For whatever reason, you found yourself going along with Robert’s demands once more. Your hand on his neck squeezed.

“You really do get everything you want,” you hissed, teeth clenching against the ache that was rapidly growing between your legs.

“Not true,” Robert choked out beneath you. His voice was straining from your grip, but you could still hear the hint of satisfaction. “I haven’t gotten to stick it in you yet.”

Your walls clenched around nothing, and you hated how his words could affect you. You angrily took it out on him, pressing the hand on his neck down even harder. Robert hissed out through his teeth, then dissolved into a rough cry of pleasure. 

“Fuck," you gasped.

Your grip loosened, suddenly, as a wave of ecstasy came crashing over you for the second time. It was unexpected and fast, taking you by such surprise that you fell forward on the desk a little, caging Robert’s face with your arms. Your stomach churned with embarrassment as the feeling faded, and you realized that just the sound of his voice had been enough to push you over the edge.

You looked down, and saw Robert’s eyes full of mirth. His face was flushed, blood rushing back now that your hand was off him. A few strands of hair stood out of place against his forehead. Honestly, he was a mess; clothes all wrinkled and normally-neat red tie knocked askew. You could feel yourself dripping. His very expensive suit pants were probably ruined. Although, that was really his problem.

“Tell me again how you don’t get off on being mean?” Robert rasped below you.

You were panting, and clearly in no position to answer him. But even if you had been able to speak, you certainly weren’t about to tell him that it had been his animalistic moan that really made you come. Robert started to sit up a little, keeping one arm around your waist.

“You hate me so much.” Robert’s voice was still slightly hoarse, but there was that tone of amusement, as usual. 

“Poor little rich boy.”

It was all you could think to say, still trying to recover from two orgasms back to back. Robert gave you a look that was almost pitying.

“When are you gonna admit that you’re just jealous?” Robert purred.

You gave him a look of disgust, hoping your scowl would communicate everything that you couldn’t verbalize. Your head was still reeling, dizzy from the rush.

“You think you’re better than everyone else just because you have to scramble to get ahead? Please. You wish you had it as easy as me.” Robert’s hands came up to grasp at your wrists, holding you in place as he brought his lips close to yours. “But lucky for me, you’re not above sleeping your way to the top.”

Is that really what he thought this was? No. That wasn’t the reason for this. Inch by inch, Robert was bringing his lips closer to you. This bastard, thinking he understood you. Infuriated, you did the only thing you could think to do, and spit on him.

He stopped, but didn’t look particularly surprised. The trail of spit started to drip down his face, mixing on his cheek with the leftover sheen of your arousal. Calmly, Robert brought a hand up to his face and wiped off the efforts of your rebellion.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, sweetheart.”

In the next instant, Robert’s hands were at his belt, nimble fingers working the buckle. You noticed for the first time how painfully stretched his pants were. He had to be in agony. But, you thought bitterly, that was probably exactly how he wanted it.

“Here - why don’t you spit on my cock?” he goaded, pulling himself out of his briefs.

Your eyes blew wide at the sight of him. That certainly explained the amount of confidence he had. You struggled to shoot back a response.

“In your dreams,” you muttered.

“Don’t be like that,” Robert chided, pouting a little bit.

As much as he liked to act, you could tell that he wasn’t really hurt. Someone as arrogant as Robert Fischer could never be truly bothered by anything. This was merely an inconvenience. He pinched your cheeks between his rough fingers, forcing you to look down at his dick with your mouth open. A long, wet rope of saliva fell from your lips.

“There, was that so hard?”

Robert’s pinching hand left your face as he brought it down to rub at his length, hastily working your spit over himself.

“This is for your benefit anyway,” he winked. “Don’t want it to hurt you too much.”

You watched, almost mesmerized, as he pumped himself a few more times. Satisfied, he stood up, taking you with him. Standing in your heels, you were almost as tall as him, and he looked directly into your eyes.

“Now, do you want me to fuck you over the desk, or up against the wall?”

You almost couldn’t believe his audacity. You glared at him, a heavy, electrical silence hanging between you.

“Tick-tock, sweetheart.”

“Go to hell, Robert,” you answered. 

“Well, then I guess we’re doing what I want.” He smiled. “How ironic.”

He lifted you up in one swift motion, and then your back was against the wall. The head of his cock was pressing into you, and the stretch was almost painful.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he hissed. “Just what I would expect from a stuck-up little bitch.”

His words stung, but not as much as the snap of his hips as he thrust into you, forcing a little whine out of your lips. You grit your teeth, trying to muffle your reaction.

“You squeeze me so good when you’re angry,” Robert laughed. “Fuck.”

His hands were digging into you, holding you up as he pulled out and then pressed greedily back in. Your head pushed back against the wall, overwhelmed by his size. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much for you?” he teased.

“You- wish-”

Your words cut off as Robert fucked sharply into you again, then paused. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling his hips against you as you tried to hold yourself up. It only made him push deeper. 

“Fuck, Robert-!”

You cried out, interrupting yourself again, and felt his lips brush against your neck.

“I didn’t even move that time, baby,” he smirked. 

You couldn’t stand to see him so smug. Somewhere deep inside yourself, you found strength.

“W-what are you waiting for, then? Get to work, pretty boy.”

Robert grinned as he thrust into you, even more powerfully than before. You wanted to whimper, but bit your tongue. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“You really are something else,” Robert chuckled.

His pace had started to speed up, and now he was pumping in and out of you relentlessly, each thrust pushing you back against the wall. Your body had finally adjusted to his girth, and you were almost starting to enjoy the stretch. Not to mention the way that his head hit a certain spot inside of you, nearly making you fall apart every time he brushed against it.

You were finding it harder and harder to suppress your moans, and every now and then one would slip out of your tightly-pressed lips. Robert seemed to speed up every time he heard you whimper.

“Fuck!” you swore, as he hit a particularly deep spot.

“You take my cock so well,” he grunted. Even trying to keep his cool, it was clear that he was only seconds away from release. “Now let’s see how you take my cum.”

“Not… not inside,” you panted.

“Don’t- fucking- tell me what to do.”

“Don't fucking come in me!”

Pressed against the wall, your options for retaliation were limited. Your legs could do nothing but wrap around him; his hands stopping you from putting your feet on the floor. Your own hands were occupied gripping at the lapels of his suit, hanging on for dear life as he split you open. Really, the only available part of you was your mouth.

Your lips bruised hard against his, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting hard enough that you hoped it hurt. Robert let out a muffled growl against you, and you sank your teeth in more.

Somewhere far away, a clock chimed and the party below you surged drunkenly. Robert thrust his hips into you one last time, and then you felt him painting your walls; cum leaking out of you as he held you, still suspended in the air. As the buzzing in your head started to fade, you realized he was smiling against your lips.

You jaw relaxed just enough for Robert to pull himself away. His lip was bruised; angry red from where your teeth had scraped him. He was even more disheveled than he had been, and, somehow, even more satisfied with himself.

“Ended up giving me that kiss anyway,” he rasped, voice still heavy from exertion and lust. “And right at midnight, too.”

You felt your hatred surge again, weakly. You were exhausted; barely able to keep yourself upright when Robert finally set you on your feet. He stepped away, leaving you to tug down your dress and try to make yourself presentable. A very difficult task, considering you still had fresh cum leaking out of you. Your eyes quickly scanned the floor for your panties. You would not stoop to searching on your hands and knees for them. Not until Robert left your office, at least.

Robert finished zipping his pants and replacing his belt, shiny silver buckle clicking under his fingers. He tugged at his suit, barely making a dent in the wrinkles, and smoothed a hand over his hair.

“Well, I would say ‘same time next week,’ but I think it would be easier to pencil you in at lunch,” Robert joked. “Maybe we can finally have that drink before I take you back to my office. You’ll have a really nice view of the city while I fuck you against the window.”

You really couldn’t believe the nerve. Although, by now, it should have been easy to expect no less from Robert. You walked right up to him and planted a finger in the center of his chest.

“If you think I’m ever having sex with you again, you’re twice as delusional as I thought you were,” you huffed. 

Robert took one more long look at you, and shrugged.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

[eideticallys]

If you won't do it, I will.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you were so engrossed with images of you kissing Reid and him kissing you back that you forgot one detail—the man could wake up at any moment without you noticing. and he did wake up. You just failed to notice, too busy ogling his pink lips.

genre: fluff & angst

word count: 3.7k

author's notes: another tooth-rotting spencer reid fluff because i said so! you can listen to watch you sleep by girl in red & out of my league by fitz and the tantrums while reading this because those were the songs i listened to while writing this and i think they fit really well with this fic. also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

THAT DARN SUNLIGHT, YOU SHOULD GET YOUR BLINDS FIXED WHEN YOU’RE FREE—THEN IT HITS YOU. You just got it fixed about two weeks ago. You are definitely not in your room.

Scrambling to get up, you were about to jump off whichever bed you ended up in last night when you felt a warm, lithe arm tucked underneath yours, clasping you in a soft embrace like a lover. Now that you think about it, you could feel this person’s hair tickling your chin and their warm breath against your neck.

This is seriously freaking you out. You have no idea who you are cuddling with. Jesus Christ, how many shots did you drink last night? Why would the team let you go home drunk with some guy? 

Gently, you removed the arm wrapped around your waist and slowly pushed away the brunette positioned snugly between your head and shoulder. No way.

The person you are cuddling with is none other than your genius coworker.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

Like any other normal person would do—no person in their right mind would sleep with their coworkers, literally and figuratively—you checked yourself for any presence of clothing. Thank God, you did not completely lose your mind last night and slept with Reid. But it still doesn’t explain why you were wearing his faded Star Trek shirt and one of his pajama pants.

Fucking hell, did he change your clothes for you? You were ready to catch the next plane and disappear at this point.

You were about to start berating yourself for getting into this mess when you noticed how the sunlight made the man beside you look more angelic than usual.

The sun seemed to caress every freckle on his face, the slight pink tinge from the cold morning air, and his hair—although unruly from the tossing and turning during the night—could pass for that of a shampoo model. Pretty.

And his lips.

They looked even more inviting right now, pink and full and parted slightly, as he breathed in and out small puffs of air, finally sleeping soundly following a week of sleepless nights tracking down an unsub. You roamed your eyes once more on his face, starting from his hair and down to where his upper body was covered by an old shirt and the blanket you shared—forgetting your initial dilemma as to how you ended up in bed with your coworker (whom you have a big crush on).

Thank goodness you did not have sex with the one guy you were practically in love with for years. It would be nice to remember every detail of that rendezvous—if that ever happens. You groaned inwardly. This is not the time to fantasize about your coworker, Y/N! You need to get out of bed and out of his house.

But a part of you longs to keep pretending that this is real. That sleeping next to—cuddling, let us be honest—Reid is a usual occurrence. Pursing your lips, you closed your eyes and willed yourself to go back to sleep. Let the future version of you worry about how you will handle waking next to your coworker. Except you could not.

You wished you could tattoo what Reid looked like in the early morning light when he was asleep and without that crease between his brows that seemed to be etched permanently from all the stress of chasing unsubs around the country.

You gotta admit, some days, you yearned for Reid’s eidetic memory. You wished you could have memories of him engraved in your brain that no matter what you do, you could not help it. He would be there. A persistent thought. But then again, you were in too deep with your feelings for the man that you think, even without an eidetic memory, you could definitely recount all your favorite memories with him in a heartbeat.

So, you chose to stay awake.

This is not looking good for you. How else would you explain to someone—your coworker, of all people—who just woke up why you were staring at them while they slept. God, you are down horrendously.

He looked so peaceful like this. Pink cheeks, freckles, and messy hair. He looked so adorable you wished you could pepper his face with kisses and bury your face in his chest. And he is snoring lightly. He is endearing.

You are never getting another chance like this. This will not hurt anyone, right?

Hence, you took in every tiny detail, every freckle, every mole, and every scar you could see. You committed to memory every inch of skin your eyes could reach before the man beside you woke up. You tried to learn by heart what this man looks like when he is untroubled and at peace—what he looks like in the eyes of his future lover when they wake up next to him because that would never be you.

It would never be you.

And that could happen any day now. Reid was bound to find someone who would love him. He was the easiest person to love. He was not a prince charming nor the male lead of a romance novel kind of guy, But he has this boyish charm.

Let us be real. Reid was probably the most uncoordinated guy alive and the most socially awkward person ever. But you were taken by him. The moment he started spewing facts and statistics about anything and everything under the sun, you were done for.

He could talk to you about why worms were called worms and the probability of people dying on their birthdays. And you would listen to him willingly. You were that taken by him. Not to mention, it does not help your case that Reid was probably the prettiest person alive. Well, not literally, but he was that close to being the prettiest person—in your opinion of course.

He had messy, brown curls that looked like they barely experienced the touch of a comb, but you knew they were soft. You knew because every time Reid did something endearing—everything he did was endearing, for you—you always ruffled his hair. This would make him grumble about how he had to fix it again and to which you would reply with a cheeky, You know what a comb is? And Reid would roll his eyes at you.

He had hazel eyes that reminded you of a puppy dog. They were mostly brown with a tinge of green. Most days, it reminded you of being cozy, drinking hot chocolate by the fire. They looked like you were coming home. They always looked like they were pleading for you to stare at them. And you admit you have lost count of the many times Reid had to flick his fingers in front of you with a matching Earth to Y/N and a mini history lesson starting with a Did you know that the history behind that phrase comes from science fiction movies showing people on earth sending messages to people in space?

And Reid always wore the fluffiest cardigans and sweater vests, reminding you of your teddy bear collection at your childhood home. It was crazy how if you saw anyone else in the law enforcement track having the same fashion sense as Reid, you would probably think of them as ridiculous. He wore a pair of black converse sneakers, among other things. For heaven’s sake! Come on! You have to go after seasoned criminals—you at least have to look the part. Right? You have to look imposing and menacing to intimidate them in interrogation rooms. However, the teddy bear look—as you’d like to call it—works so well for Reid. 

What is more, is that Reid fits your ideal type. He is probably the poster boy for it. Ever since you were never into the macho guys and their big muscles. No offense to them because those are their bodies. They look good, but you like your men a little scrawny. You liked lean and really tall men. And Reid is definitely that. He may have failed his fitness test a gazillion times, but the man was in no way, shape, or form, unhealthy. He had the right muscles at the right places and besides, he literally goes after serial killers. He is fit alright.

Lost in your thoughts, you were damn near ogling the man beside you and ended up looking fixedly at his lips. You always thought he had kissable lips, minus the fact that it is probably because you were practically in love with the guy.

You wanted to kiss him so bad it is killing you right now. But in your good conscience, you couldn’t and you wouldn’t. You were completely aware of Reid being a germaphobe, and he has mentioned countless times, kissing is more hygienic than shaking another person’s hand, kissing a sleeping person was out of the books for you. One, the person couldn’t consent because they were unconscious. Two, you were not his lover. Kissing him while he was asleep would be a violation to him. Not to mention, unwelcomed and creepy as hell. Imagine waking up and someone has their lips slobbering your face. Icky!

You were so engrossed with images of you kissing Reid and him kissing you back that you forgot one detail—the man could wake up at any moment without you noticing.

And he did wake up. You just failed to notice, too busy ogling his pink lips.

“If you won’t do it, I will.”

You froze in place.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, you rushed to leap out of Reid’s bed—almost toppling over on the floor in an unladylike fashion. You probably would look worse than Reid when he was huffing and puffing during his last fitness test mandated by the bureau.

But before you could jump out and run away from the man beside you, Reid had all but effortlessly pulled you towards him. You ended up burying yourself into his chest face first as you clutched his shirt to break the fall. It is not even 8 am in the morning yet, and you have managed to embarrass yourself enough for your parents to cut off all ties with you. You would rather dig yourself a hole to die in than be here.

Knowing you have nowhere else to escape, you believe it was time to lie on the bed you made. Sluggishly, you pulled your face away from the lean chest you descended on and peeped up at the angelic face you’d been staring at for the past hour with a sheepish smile.

“H-hi, Reid!”

This is just pure torture. Reid probably knew why you looked like an actual tomato with how red you are, at this moment. He is smiling at you like a cat who ate the canary as he suppressed a laugh.

“I didn’t know you had a clumsy side to you, Y/L/N,” Reid snickered.

What?

“What?” You frowned, which made Reid chuckle some more, shaking his head.

“Nothing,” you scrunch your brows as you tilt your head in confusion, “You just seem so formidable on the field and interrogation room. I’d hate to be the one you’re tracking down,” Reid responded.

“Oh, um,” you grinned as you thought of the perfect rib for the man in front of you, “Just because I’m an FBI agent doesn’t mean I can’t be uncoordinated every now and then. I mean, I know plenty of agents who are quite the klutz on the daily,” you peered at him while he gawps in protest.

“Hey!” He argued, scowling at you.

God, he’s endearing.

“I didn’t mention any names,” you chortled, raising your hand in defense, which made him roll his eyes.

You cracked up at his juvenile actions. In turn, Reid smiled in amusement.

God, you can’t believe that you’re laying on a bed beside Reid. With Reid—like it’s an everyday thing. The smiles. The banter. The laughter. This is crazy. You could get used to this. Sleeping next to him and not just next to him—like the ones you have during your cases where you get to be roommates. No, sleeping on one bed, next to each other. Waking up next to each other. Hearing his gruff morning voice.

You could get used to this.

You can’t.

You shouldn’t.

Reid is your friend. A coworker. You shouldn’t be fantasizing about sleeping and waking up next to him, that is unprofessional. Not to mention, you would be breaking one of the golden rules of the bureau. Never fraternize with a fellow agent on the same unit. 

Seemingly lost in thought, you retreated from the man beside you, as you grimaced.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Reid,” you smiled glumly, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” you patted his cheek gently.

“Is this about you waking up in my bed? I swear no—”

“I know, Reid,” you sighed, “You would never hurt me. I was drunk last night. I’m sure you brought me here because you were too tired to take me home. We just got back from a case and I shouldn’t have drank a lot of shots after all the sleepless nights,” you were slowly sitting up now, “But thank you, Reid. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always, Y/N.”

This made you smile.

Trust Reid to always make your heart flutter at the tiniest gestures. He’s probably the most genuine and compassionate person you know. It breaks your heart every time you remember that his actions might make you feel butterflies in your stomach, but he does them not because he sees you romantically—he just does them because that is just how he is—caring.

“I’m gonna get up now,” you muttered.

“So, that’s it?”

This made you pause.

“What do you mean?” You looked at him, to which he scoffed.

“You know what I mean, Y/N.”

“No, I really don’t, Reid,” you scowled, growing irritated at this whole situation, his riddles, and him, for being so perfect, “So, you better tell me because you scoffing at me is slowly infuriating me.”

“You spent an hour, eighteen minutes, and thirty-eight seconds watching me sleep,” Reid shared as matter-of-factly, as if to say "You aren’t slick, Y/N, " which made you sputter in indignation. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if Reid would be considered by the Guinness World Records as the first omniscient person on earth with his brilliant mind. The man has an IQ of 187 for Pete’s sake!

“If that doesn’t tell you anything, then I don’t know what will,” he finished.

“First of all,” you started, “I did not watch you sleep.”

This made the man raise one brow at you. Liar.

“Second of all, if I did watch you sleep and you felt it,” you continued pointedly as if to tell Reid you weren’t watching him sleep. “Shouldn’t you have called me out on it? Why did you let me be then?” 

“I don’t know. Okay?”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” You pushed, crossing your arms.

“I woke up just a few minutes after I felt your stare,” Reid began rambling, “Did you know the reason why we feel someone is looking directly at us is that we have this system called the gaze detection system? I woke up a few minutes after I felt you staring.”

You smiled fondly at the man prattling facts from the back of his brain. This was your favorite version of Reid. The one who knows anything and everything under the sun and can probably talk about them if you asked him to. But right now, you have had enough of that. You won’t allow him to distract his adorable babbling from knowing why he let you stare at him.

Maybe he shares the same feelings with you.

“Reid,” you exhaled, “that still doesn’t explain why you let me watch you sleep.”

This made the man’s cheeks start dusting with pink. You were aware of the fact that it should have been the questioning done the other way around. You literally breached his privacy in his own home but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to know if he feels the same way as you. You wanted to know everything now rather than later. You know you’d probably get rejected but you wanted to get it over with.

“I wanted you to kiss me.”

This made you gasp, eyes widening—you think they were about to come out of their sockets. Reid blushed some more with your shocked expression. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” he continued explaining, “so I pretended to be asleep but I wanted you to kiss me. I thought that you would kiss me but you didn’t. So, I waited.” He looked down at his lap and bit his lip.

With your initial shock wearing off, you practically looked like a wild animal pouncing on the bed. Reid yelped at how quick you moved from where you originally stayed put. Without further ado, you reached for him. Thumbs caressing his rosy cheeks, you stared at his hazel irises.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked gently, wanting to be sure that he wants this just as much as you do. Before you could say anything else, Reid pressed his lips against yours.

As soon as you felt his lips against yours, your eyes closed. His lips were warm and soft—a little chapped but you didn’t mind. It feels perfect against yours. You didn’t want this to end but you want to see him—feel more of him. So, you did. You buried one of your hands in his curls as you caressed his chiseled jaw. Warmth blossomed in your chest as you realized you were kissing the guy you’d been pining for years and he is kissing you back.

You could taste your shared breath and feel the flutter of his long lashes against your cheeks. He tilted his head slightly in the opposite direction and nudged his nose against yours as your lips parted slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

You wanted to open your eyes. You wanted to see the faint constellations on his face, admire the slight scrunch of his brows when he’s focused—you had a feeling after this kiss is over, being with him won’t be as easy as it was before. You would be ruined knowing what it was like to kiss him. But you were so tired of longing for him. And his mouth was the softest mouth you have ever kissed. And nobody has ever kissed you like this before—loving and warm.

You didn’t stop kissing Reid until you felt like you were running out of air from running. So, you held his shoulders and distanced your face from his. He tried chasing your lips but you dodged him. Instead, you looked down at your lap. You felt your tears and willed them to not fall. Not here, not now, not in front of him. You wouldn’t want him to pity you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Reid placed his warm hand against yours, “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” His thumb caressed your hand soothingly.

“That’s the thing, Reid,” you explained, looking up at him right now as he flinched, noting the tears glistening in your eyes, “Nothing’s wrong. The kiss was perfect. You’re perfect.” You could see his shoulders sagging in relief after what you said. “And because of that, I can’t just pretend that what happened was normal because it isn’t. I know it won’t happen again so I can’t get used to it. And you know I’m not the type to kiss someone unless they mean that much to me.”

You were about to explain some more when you felt Reid pull you. You gulped when you felt the tickle of his breath in the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I really like you, Y/N. If it isn’t obvious,” Reid muttered shyly, “I’ve liked you for quite some time now.”

“Oh.”

If this was difficult for you, it was difficult for Reid as well—if not more—to be vulnerable about his feelings. You knew about how difficult it was for him growing up, being the only twelve-year-old prodigy in a public high school. He’s been through so much with his dad leaving and having to take care of his mom. He’s never had a proper experience with just about everything from making friends, being a normal kid, and in this case, harboring romantic feelings for someone—you.

So, you did what you thought could convey that the feeling was mutual. You gently wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your face into his brown locks. He smelled of crisp pages of a book with a hint of pine. If you thought your favorite version of Reid was him rambling about facts and statistics, you’re probably going to give that version a run for his money. Because this version of Spencer Reid right here—the one who chose to be vulnerable, the one who chose to open up to you not knowing if the feeling was mutual—is probably your new favorite version of him.

“If it isn’t obvious to you, Dr. Reid,” you began, “I’ve liked you for quite some time now too.”

With that, you pulled him away from being tucked into your neck and kissed him again. You felt him grin widely, as you showered his pretty face with pecks, and you could not be happier. Before you could shower him with more kisses, Reid started spouting statistics about office romances.

“One in ten heterosexual couples in the United States meet at work.”

“Lucky for us,” you said as you tried to bury your nose in Reid’s neck, which made him giggle. "We are that one couple in the BAU. Now, shut up, so I can kiss you some more.”

This made Reid guffaw.

You couldn’t be happier waking up next to your coworker.

[yikesmary]

MOVING ON — kim mingyu or jeon wonwoo x reader

summary: in which giving up on kim mingyu seems to be the only solution, and jeon wonwoo is right there to help you out.

note: okay so to preface, this is very different from what I usually post. I wanted to try something different, so if it's bad, that's why. but I hope you guys like it either way. also poll at the end of this to see where you guys stand on who reader should end up with. but I don't know if I'll make a continuation for this so don't get your hopes too high as I don't have the best track record of finishing a multi-part fic.

join my taglist!

You were completely, utterly, and stupidly in love with your best friend, Kim Mingyu, ever since you could remember.

It's been years since you came to the realization, and it's been years since you haven't snapped out of the lovesick stupor that many of your friends sent you disappointed looks over.

You were in love with Mingyu, and Mingyu didn't seem to notice. Or, he knew you were in love with him but didn't bother to let you down gently. Either way, it hurt how your feelings weren't acknowledged.

For years you've tried getting over him. In the beginning, you were determined to make him fall in love with you. Even if it was just a fleeting moment of love, you wanted his eyes to look at you with the love he had for the other girls he's thought to be in love with.

But it hasn't happened.

And you were starting to lose hope.

"I think she's really the one guys," Mingyu said, his eyes practically in the shape of hearts as he spoke to you and the guys.

Ignoring the pity stares you were being given, unbeknownst to Mingyu, you tried putting on your best fake smile and said, "That's so great, Gyu! We're all so happy for you, right guys?"

When you turned to them, they were still too preoccupied with giving you stares, until you all gave them a warning glare. Various versions of "That's awesome" to "You're so lucky" came out of their mouths.

A yell of Mingyu's name came from nearby, and when you looked, it was her. You shouldn't loathe her as much as you did, considering she was the innocent one who had no idea about your feelings, but you couldn't help it.

It wasn't even your fault that Mingyu didn't know about how you felt about him, considering you tried telling him two years ago, but he thought you were joking and laughed so hard he was crying. You cried that day as well but for different reasons.

Realizing that she was probably going to sit with you guys, you didn't want to torture yourself so you cleared your throat and said, "I need to go,"

Before anyone could question you about your whereabouts, you quickly left. Grabbing your backpack and lunch tray, you threw out the remnants of your lunch and quickly exited the cafeteria, not even sparing a glance at her or your table of friends.

Mingyu looked at your fading figure confusedly and looked towards the guys. None of them were able to give him eye contact lest they accidentally blurted out the reason why you left so quickly, so nothing was discussed.

Wonwoo sighed as he looked in the direction you left and Mingyu, who hadn't been confused for long since she decided to sit beside Mingyu. Noticing that she refused to make any kind of eye contact or contact at all at Wonwoo, he sighed then followed your example, and left the table too.

Glances were exchanged, but this time no one knew why Wonwoo left so abruptly without saying anything.

There were moments when Mingyu wasn't preoccupied with his girlfriends and had time to spend with you. You were all for it, trying to take advantage what little time you were able to get with Mingyu.

If only Mingyu was able to keep his end of the bargain and actually spent time with you like he promised.

It was a constant cycle, and no matter how much you promised time and time again you wouldn't let him do it to you, you'd fall for it time and time again. You do it in hopes that it would be different this time, that you were important enough for him to break the cycle he unknowingly created.

This time, the promise was to take you to an art exhibit that was two towns over, over an hour's drive to the exhibit and another hour driving back. You were never able to get anyone to come with you since the drive took so long.

But, finally, Mingyu was able to go.

"When's the art exhibit?" Mingyu asked you suddenly, breaking the silence as the both of you studied for your respective classes.

You stopped working and looked at him then said, "It's on Saturday, why?"

Mingyu stopped to think for a second, then said, "I can go with you if you want,"

Breaking into a wide grin, you asked, "Really?! You'd go with me?! Even if it's an hour away from here?"

Mingyu's eyes widened as if he didn't know how far the exhibit was, as if it hasn't been the only thing you've been able to talk about. "An hour?"

You deflated at his answer, thinking that he wasn't going to go with you after finding out how long it takes to go. Noticing your reaction, Mingyu was quick to say, "I'll still go! I just wasn't expecting how long it was going to take to get there,"

You smiled again and said, "I'll wait for you on Saturday?"

He nodded and smiled at you, "I'll pick you up," he promised.

It was currently Saturday, and Mingyu was nowhere to be found. No call, no text, not even a smoke signal saying something along the lines of "I'm sorry, I was caught up with something else but I'll totally pick you up right now!".

You didn't even wait around at your apartment to see if Mingyu would pick you up, you took an Uber to his and Wonwoo's apartment. When you entered the floor of their apartment, you made a beeline to the door and knocked three times.

Waiting patiently, you heard the faint footsteps of someone approaching the door, you were face to face with Wonwoo. "He's not here," was the first thing Wonwoo said, the both of you knowing who he was.

Sighing and rolling your eyes both at Mingyu and the fact that you fell for it once more, you told him, "Why am I not surprised?"

Wonwoo eyed you before asking, "Do you want to come in?"

You hesitated for a quick second before nodding, and Wonwoo made more space for you to enter. "What did he say he'd do this time?" Wonwoo asked, closing the door behind him.

"He said he was going to come with me to the art exhibit—"

"The one an hour away?" Wonwoo asked, shocking you at how he remembered.

"You knew? Mingyu told you about it?" You questioned, but he shook his head no.

"It's the only thing you've been able to talk about since you found out about it. How would I not know about it?" He replied.

"Well, it's not like I would be able to go since it's going to be closed by the time I go and it's too expensive to Uber there so I'll just leave—" you started saying whilst turning around to leave the apartment, but Wonwoo grabbed your arm, stopping you.

"Do you want to hang out?" Wonwoo asked.

You turned to him, confused, "What are we even going to do?" you asked.

He shrugged and said,

"Wherever you want. I'll just be by your side,"

Silence fell between both you and Wonwoo as you walked aimlessly, the street you guys were on had food places that were still open and convenience stores that never closed, so there were lights everywhere despite it being nighttime.

You broke the silence by saying, "I have a question,"

Wonwoo hummed and said, "Well, I'll try the best I can to answer your question, but no promises,"

"It's about Mingyu,"

"I assumed it was going to be about him,"

"Am I stupid in thinking that my pining will result in something happening between him and me? Should I stop?"

Wonwoo stopped in the middle of the walk, making you bump into him since you were slightly behind him. You had to stop too but looked at Wonwoo to see if he'd give any indication on why he stopped.

"Do you want me to be completely honest?" He asked you.

You looked into his eyes and said, "With all the things I've been going through with Mingyu, honesty is all I have left,"

"I think that what you feel with Mingyu has enveloped your life so much that you can't separate between regular you and you with feelings for Mingyu. You've entangled yourself with Mingyu too much and you need to find yourself before anything else," Wonwoo bluntly told you.

"Okay, one, ouch. And two, that didn't answer my question," you said.

"I can't tell you whether or not you should stop, that should be something that you should decide without anyone interfering," he advised you.

"But how am I supposed to decide when I don't know what to even think?" you whined.

Wonwoo stared at you for a moment before saying, "Close your eyes,"

"What? Why?"

"I'm going to do something but you're going to have to put full trust in me,"

"That doesn't tell me anything, Won,"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yeah, wholeheartedly,"

"Then close your eyes," he instructed.

You closed your eyes eventually, seeing as the worst thing he could do was leave you on the road. But you still felt his presence around you, so you figured you were somewhat safe.

"I'm going to ask you a question and you can't think about it, just say the first thing that comes out of your head. Okay?"

"What—"

"Out of all our friends, who is the worst and best drunk?"

"Soonyoung for both. He cannot maintain his alcohol which makes him good and bad,"

"Where's the next place you want to travel to?"

"Home, I just want to see my parents,"

"What do you want to eat right now?"

"Ice cream,"

"Can you see yourself being with Mingyu for the rest of your life?"\

"No."

It was as if freezing water was poured onto you when you realized what you just said.

"Woah,"

"Yeah, woah."

taglist: @belladaises @winterpaos @minhui896 @baekhyunimochibbh @x-alightinthedark @whywontyousetfree @coffeesandrains @slaveofmydreams @bmkgemz @dandycharmer @outrologist @stagefrjghts @dahliatopia @exo-saranghajaaa @uhlatcha @watermelon-sugars-things @miniminimingi @venzline @withloveyjh @lockburn-castle @userjunhuii @mypsychicpizzaworld @violetvoo @maevadobreva @soonyoungblr @baekhyunstruly @ryusol @dunixxd @minhwa @ovai @scorpiobitch88 @icyminghao @cookiehaos @duskunt1ldawn

[sainzinnorris]

okay now that i have the information, this is a CarLando recap of Singapore gp 2023:

1. lando slapping carlos's ass and carlos's response was “ that was hard” , followed by a blush and momentarily losing track of whatever he was saying.

2. p1 and p3 in quali and cue to lando pinching carlos's boobie to lando brushing his hips against carlos's and cue to carlos following him like he's mezmerized.

3. lando replying “ vamos" under carlos's twitter post and “ CARLOOOOOOOS” under his instagram post. (we all think he's whining for carlos but alright-)

4. the carlando hug. it's beautiful. it's mezmerizing. I've seen it too many times. it's poetic.

5. the podium interviews before the celebrations with carlos and lando mentioning each other more often than they're breathing, the cooldown room where they're just “ ai , ai , ai " and “ oh- oh- oh" (sounded like their foreplay without context). lewis just walks in at the last moment without any background context and the sky commentators went like “ alright, if this is how the reporting for the race happens, we'd want this informative reporting every race weekend ;)) ” [ also cue to them recreating the “ ai ” and “ oh ” ]

6. the carlando podium. that spraying technique from lando onto carlos's mouth and carlos sticking his tongue out like that. and the way carlos's practically chugs champagne onto lando's mouth (for second one reference: check the video where fred is drowning carlos in champagne, it's for a very split moment , but you can see it )

7. the post race press conference with carlando in their married domestic bubble + third wheel lewis. also cue to CarLando sitting together far away from lewis and carlos showing lando something which causes them to smile and get giddy over idk, and carlos following lando quickly in the most babygirl way ever. 🏃🏾‍♀️

8. carlos's instagram selfie post dedicated to CarLando solely + an insta story of the same post, an insta story solely dedicated to an hd aesthetic picture of their hug, cue to lando resharing the selfie post on his own story with “ #CALANDO” as well as resharing the hug™ on his story, and posting the CarLando selfie on his p2 celebration post. a joint instagram post. 😏

9. to mclaren and ferrari admin celebrating carlos and lando. [ mclaren commenting “ vamos” and scuderia ferrari commenting “ good job lando :) ” ]

10. carlos and lando being congratulated by the mclaren and ferrari mechanics.

11. the post race interview again where carlos suggested lando and him should go out for drinks tonight and smiles whenever he mentions CarLando and tone implications of suggesting he knows CarLando works exist.

12. carlos's radio message of “ gap to lando every lap" and carlos intentionally slowing down just enough to keep lando within drs range , lando understanding the signal. when told by his race engineer about the gap (0.8) carlos goes like “ it's on purpose ”. the amount of precision, trust, teamwork and respect. freaking insane.

[sxcret-garden]

P1Harmony Reaction ღ Walking in on their s/o getting off by themselves [M]

ღ P1Harmony Keeho, Theo, Jiung, Intak x gn!reader ღ genre: smut reaction (all parts take place in the reader’s room, and it’s also the first time that they walk in on you) ღ warnings: none

Keeho:

will exclaim in surprise once he sees you, so there’s no way you don’t notice him walking in on you

the smirk on his face tells you he doesn’t dislike this situation though

“This is what we’re doing now?” he asks, and a moment later he adds, “Keep going.”

starts telling you what to do, where to touch yourself and where not to

shoots you a sharp look if you don’t obey, and watches with great interest as you struggle to follow his instructions to go just a little slower than you would want to

you think he’s just going to guide you through the whole thing, but he won’t have the patience for that

eventually just decides to scrap his initial plan and already throws half of his clothes off on the way to you

presses a sloppy kiss to your lips while grabbing your wrists and pinning you down on the bed to make sure you know he’s going to take over for you now

Theo:

stunned when he catches you but also starts sulking????

why are you doing this by yourself?? you better be thinking about him???

the second you notice him you can tell what he’s thinking

but also this just really isn’t a situation where you want to waste time explaining yourself

and he seems to realize that too

“Should I… help you with that?” 

you nod, but he’s already approaching you, because he was sure what your answer would be anyway

connects his lips to yours immediately while crawling on top of you

tears off any clothes that might still be remaining on your body, because at this point they’re just an annoyance to him

does the same with his own clothes, with your help

I don’t think I need to spell out what happens next

(he helps you get off while having pretty spontaneous sex with you, that’s what)

Jiung:

blushes.

dies.

silently exits the room.

won’t be able to do anything else though, so he’ll just stand frozen in front of the door, and with every sound he hears coming from you he’ll just freeze up a little more and feel himself getting more turned on

he knows that he shouldn’t just be standing there, but he can’t bring himself to walk away

after what seems like an eternity to him, you finally come out of the room and realize he must’ve at least heard everything

he just stares at you and then stutters an apology

this is the point where you should simply kiss him to stop him from bluescreening and in order to tell him it’s alright

there are so many ways to take this from here - tease him about it, ask him to help you out next time, suggest that you can probably take another orgasm and pull him into the room with you…

it’s really all up to you, because there is no way this guy can function anytime soon :’)

Intak:

he’s so stunned the moment he realizes what’s going on, he’ll just stop in his tracks and stare at you

he’ll stay there long enough for you to notice him eventually

he just can’t tear himself away from the sight in front of him

you realize how much this is affecting him, so in the end you simply ask if he wants to join

obviously he doesn’t think twice

so you two turn this into a session of mutual masturbation

that is until he loses his composure and tears your hands away from yourself, pressing his lips onto yours and kissing you with need

he’s quick to remove all clothes that might be in the way and to crawl on top of you

won’t lose a single second to get you both into position to have sex

after all, you both know there’s ways to make the two of you feel even better than if you simply take care of yourselves each

[bitchesgetriches]

Here’s an awful truth: while potential employers expect the world from applicants, they feel absolutely no obligation to reciprocate that courtesy.

In other words: you’re not going to hear back from a lot of jobs for which you apply. Sorry ’bout it.

So if you apply for a job and hear nothing but the howling void in return, be neither surprised nor distressed. They probably got your application! They probably even looked at it! But they also probably don’t think they have time to respond to every applicant.

I’ve applied for many jobs in my life. And I can count on the fingers of one hand how often an employer contacted me to follow up and say they weren’t going to hire me. Most who didn’t want me just ghosted me. So if you don’t get a response, after some time you can safely assume the answer is “No.”

Keep careful track of every job you apply to, along with the date you applied and the hiring manager’s contact information. (Note: I’m going to use “hiring manager” as shorthand for “the person responsible for hiring you at the place where you applied for a job” even if that’s not their actual job title.)

But if you haven’t heard anything for eight weeks, you’ll probably never hear back from them.

Don’t lose sleep over it. Don’t frantically check your email, Facebook messages, and LinkedIn inbox. Simply remind yourself that they don’t deserve your brilliance and keep applying elsewhere.

- I Just Applied for a Job. How (And When) Should I Follow Up?

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

When you touch me, I am where love is born

Young!Mihawk x reader.

Prequel of the short series that began with Built a haven for your love (until I let you fall apart). Title taken from yet another song by Beast in Black, One night in Tokyo.

*****

The man is attractive, if you like the burly type, with rough features and a full beard - which you occasionally do, even though you are slightly put off by the fact that your would-be victim, a former pirate who is now working solo as a robber, has killed twelve people, all of them but one defenseless civilians and including four children, to steal their valuables. Your grandfather, who put your first gun in your hand when you were only nine and taught you to use it, and a number of other firearms, to perfection, told you emotions are often a shooter's worst enemy, a cause of confusion and inaccuracy and worst of all hesitation, especially when the target you are shooting at has a weapon of their own; still, in your heart you feel satisfaction, even joy, and not guilt, at the thought that you will rid the world of this lowlife and protect his future potential victims.

Your target has no permanent residence and is notoriously proficient at putting pursuers off his tracks, but you were able to track down an accomplice of his who, for a small price, told you he would be in a certain island, on a particular day.

He is, and you are as well, having reached the island yesterday by ferry under the guise of a normal, innocuous tourist eager to enjoy the island's luxurious beaches and night-life. The truth couldn't be more different, and as you check for the twelfth time your gun is loaded and ready to shoot, you order yourself to keep your cool and stop your heart from beating twice as fast as normal. Yes, this is your first assignment as a mercenary; yes, you are still very young, and a woman, which would lead many of your fellow killers for hire to look down on you and doubt your ability; yes, you have never killed anyone before, which could make you hesitate once you will have to actually pull the trigger, not at a clay pigeon or another target prepared by your grandfather for your training, but at a living, real person.

But you can do it. You want to do it, because you have trained so much and so long for this, and that man does deserve to pay for what he has done, and you want to prove, to the world and more importantly to yourself, what you are worth, how strong and clever and resilient you are, beyond the family you were born in and the role you will take on one day. Your grandfather, an excellent gunslinger who had been a mercenary himself in his youth, expects you to put to good use everything he taught you and succeed, and your mother, while naturally worried for your safety, raised no objections and allowed you to begin a career as a killer for hire, knowing you felt the need to put yourself to the test beyond the comfortable, tranquil borders of your island. They both count on you, and you'd rather eat glass than disappoint them… and yourself, the harshest, least forgiving judge of all.

Also, if I don't kill that guy, he will probably kill me. That's also something I should keep in mind.

Having kept watch on the old barn, in the middle of the countryside, your target had spent the night in, you have seen him leave soon after dawn, the long sword he used to kill most of his victims as usual by his side, and set out towards an uninhabited corner of the island. You followed closely, careful not to lose him and, at the same time, not to be spotted, and three miles later you saw him reach an old abandoned mine; there is no sign of life for miles all around, which makes you suspect that, more than preparing an heist in a bank or a shop, or to attack an unsuspecting traveller to rob and then kill them, the man is meeting with an accomplice to organize an hit, or perhaps he has chosen the mine as his new hideout, to lay low for a while.

But all things being equal, the reason that has brought him here doesn't really matter; he might be looking for a safe place to store his stamp collection, or planning to transform the place in an ice cream shop for all you care. The only thing that counts is that you will kill him today, provide justice for all the people he has murdered, and begin making a name for yourself as a mercenary. You don't care about the bounty money, that you plan to donate to the less affluent families of your island (after, perhaps, you have treated yourself to a good dinner) and even becoming famous as a killer for hire is a side issue; you only want to do what is right, and prove yourself you are more than a privileged young woman, born with a silver spoon in her mouth and destined to a life of tranquility and power.

Even if it means risking your life.

Your target has reached the entrance of the mine, securely boarded up and surmounted by a large KEEP OUT sign; he walks back and forth, clearly nervous as he smokes a cigarette, fingering the hilt of his sword. Hidden in a small ramshackle building, perhaps the old foreman's office, no more than ten paces away, you look at him through a crack in the door, kneeling on the dirty floor; your heart is pounding, a feeling of tightness constricting your stomach, the hand grasping your gun (a good, reliable and lethal model; not the derringer you will one day receive as a gift from your father and that you will treasure for the rest of your days, but still perfectly up to the task) sweating. Despite all the time and effort you dedicated to prepare for this moment, you are a nervous wreck, which is not completely a bad thing, since the last thing you should do is underestimate the danger you are in. Your target is still alone, busy smoking and apparently unaware of your presence, but any moment you waste could be the one he decides to leave, or he is joined by someone else; after all he does look as if he is waiting for someone. You can't hesitate any longer.

You stand slowly, grimacing at the pain in your knees, retrieve a second gun from the bag you have left on the floor, to use should the first one jam, and slide it in the holster hanging from your waist; you have chosen comfortable clothing, for obvious reason, and soft-soled boots, that allow you to walk as noiselessly as possible… and, in turn, to make it harder for your target to hear you approach.

The man has turned his back to the shack, busy lighting another cigarette after the one he has just put out under his foot; it's your moment, you decide, and you waste no time in slipping out of the splintered door and take one step, and then another, towards him.

Years and even decades later, as the list of your victims grows longer and you get used to the tension and the danger your job entails, you will still remember this moment as clear and vivid as if it had taken place yesterday, down to the smallest detail. The glowing yellow-red of the sun barely raised above the horizon; the natural vegetation rustling in the gentle wind; the russet colour of the unsown earth under your feet; the expectant, charged silence broken only by the distant call of a carrion crow. You are only partially aware of your actions, your instinct and training taking over, as you take a third step, which brings you at maybe six from your target - more than close enough for a clean shot. Your gun is aimed, your finger already brushing against the trigger. You are about to talk, but the man, still turned the other way, anticipates you.

"I was waiting for you." he says, tense but calm, and the shock is almost enough to make the gun slip from your hand; you have been very careful to remain hidden, making sure he had no idea you were keeping a close eye on him, and you were absolutely sure you had succeeded, and would easily sneak up on your target. Apparently the truth is different… or at least so it seems for a moment, before the man finally turns, sees you, and goggles.

"What the… who the hell are you?!"

"I…"

"Where is Mihawk?" he insists, which is a question you have no answer for, but that at the same time is enough to dispel your doubts: he had no idea you were coming, and was actually waiting for someone else - perhaps an ally or an accomplice.

It takes your target half a second to notice the gun you are aiming at him. "What the…?!" he exclaims, letting his second cigarette fall to the floor and grabbing his sword.

It is already a full second to late.

"Jack 'The Tiger' Vespertine." you begin, mimicking the formal tone you heard your mother use so many times; you will decide to do away with the declaration of intents by your third assignment, like virtually all World Government-sanctioned mercenaries and killers for hire do, especially when the target is already aware of the danger they are in and armed, but since this is your first time you deem appropriate to follow the rules to the letter "You have been found guilty of twelve counts of murder…"

Vespertine's sword is drawn with a movement too fast for your eyes to follow, but thank all the Gods you are fast as well, and ready; a battle-cry fills the air, and half a second later, when the man has barely had the time to raise his blade above his head, your finger pulls the trigger, and the bullet explodes out of the gun's barrel, opening a hole in the middle of his forehead.

Vespertine is not an heavy man, but the thud of his body hitting the ground is deafening, the ground shaking under your feet. He doesn't move, and for a full minute you don't either; you stare at the body in front of you, your gun still pointed at him even though you know he is most likely already dead, as you push his sword away with your boot. You can't see his face, since he has fallen on his belly, so, for safety's sake, you shoot him again, in the back; the man doesn't move, which is proof enough for you.

Somewhere in the distance, the carrion crow cries again, a sound vaguely similar to an acid laugh; you glance all around you, making sure you are still alone and no one witnessed your actions, and then cautiously crouch down, using your free hand to turn the body on his back and look at it -at him- in the face.

This moment is the reason why you decided to do it like this. Up close, looking at him in the face and making sure he saw you and, within reason, knew you were going to kill him, instead of finding a safer way, hidden among the shrubs or from a moving vehicle or even at the third floor of a building, so that your target would have no way to know what was going to happen, and to defend himself. You had to let him know; not because you owed him (he was a killer, scum like that was entitled to nothing) but because you needed it.

"There is nothing wrong with aiming from a distance, and shooting at someone who doesn't expect it, at least if you're a mercenary and chasing a certain sort of people; in a fair duel, or when the person you are shooting at deserves to know what is going to happen to them, different rules apply." your grandfather told you one day, as you walked together in the fortress' gardens, at the end of yet another training session; he was an honourable man, your grandfather, but he was also smart and pragmatic, and he knew honour was something a person could not always afford to care for, and that when you didn't leave someone else to pay for your actions there was nothing wrong with running away to fight another day "We are not swordfighters; we don't duel for supremacy, for a grandiose title or so that everyone in the world knows our name. The gun is a weapon; if you want to kill someone, use it and it will do its work. It's not your friend, or a talisman that endows you with some arcane power; it is a tool that you need to learn to use, otherwise you will be the one getting hurt. It is a bloody business, a raw and practical one, devoid of heroics and ethics, but it can protect you and help you make your way in the world. It all depends on you. Just..."

"Just?"

Your grandfather had stopped, contemplating the rose bushes your mother tended to personally, and that ran all around a tiny plot of grass, where your family had enjoyed so many outdoor breakfasts.

"What I'm trying to say is that using firearms, especially for a deadly purpose like you mean to, is something you mustn't take lightly." he continued as he looked at you; he loved you dearly, but in that moment there was sternness in him, as if he were warning you against a terrible danger, or a grave crime you were about to commit. You liked it; he was the first person to treat you like an adult, years before you could even vaguely call yourself that "It... goes to your head; the power to kill with a simple press of your finger can make even the most rational and moderate person feel all-powerful. And the risk of forgetting it is people you are shooting at and killing, not clay pigeons or game to serve at dinner, is high."

You looked at him; he was probably the person you loved the most in the world behind your mother, and he was wiser than even her. You trusted him completely, and you knew he only wanted what was best for you; had he said bathing every day in olive oil would make you immortal, you would have believed him.

"And you think this could happen to me?" you asked, afraid of hearing his answer; evening was approaching, flames of red and purple painting the darkening sky above your heads "I... I don't want it to, grandfather; I only want to kill bad people, like you did. I don't want to become bad myself."

Suddenly he smiled, as he took your hand in his like he did when you were still so young you needed to be guided as you walked. "I have faith in you, (name); I know there is no kinder girl in all the four seas, and I am sure you will one day rule over our island with justice and mercy." he told you "But if you really want to become a gunslinger... you have to promise me something: when you kill a man, you have to look at him in the eyes; not necessarily before, as I told you, but at least after. Take responsibility for what you have done, and face the consequence of your actions. Especially the first time."

A sudden gust of wind passed over you; the evening was warm, but you suddenly felt chilled.

"Promise me, (name)."

"I promise, grandfather. I will do as you said."

And you do, contemplating the body of the man in front of you, now truly alone in that isolated corner of the world. You feel no guilt; rather, you are proud of yourself, and you know your grandfather will be as well, when you'll call home to reassure him and your mother you are all right. You have proved yourself, punished a vicious murderer, and given justice to his victims. All in all, a good day... even though you do feel a bit upset, even if you couldn't exactly say why.

You can't tear your eyes away from Vespertine -or rather, from his mortal remains- even longer than what your grandfather would deem necessary. The bullet you have killed him with went right through his cranium, but the hole it created is no bigger than a bean at the centre of his forehead, and his face is still perfectly recognizable... which is good, since you wouldn't be able to collect the bounty if you can't prove you killed the right man. You saw another body once, an inexperienced guard on your island, who had shot himself in the face with his service pistol as he cleaned it, and the bullet had completely erased his features, so much that even his parents couldn't formally recognize him...

Vespertine's old bounty poster, from the time he was still part of his old pirate crew, is folded in the inside pocket of your jacket; you take it out, open it, observe it carefully comparing the man in the picture with the one lying on the ground in front of you, and finally sigh, relieved. You had already checked it for the third time twenty minutes ago, as you waited for the right moment in the foreman's office, to make sure you had actually found the right man and were not about to kill an innocent who simply resembled him, but this is obviously the first time you can examine him up close and yes, this is undoubtedly Vespertine himself. You killed him... but your work is not over yet.

Still, you can't stop looking at him. His eyes, of the same colour of your mother's, are still open, a single drop of blood that slid down from the wound leaving a tiny blood trail along the side of his nose. He had had time to realize you were attempting to kill him, but his expression betrays neither fear, nor rage, nor the pain he must have felt as he died; rather, he seems... surprised, as if he really hadn't expected to see you, to be attacked, and that that quiet, still morning would be the last of his life.

I'm doing it, grandfather, you think; you will make sure to tell him in person once you're back home, to let him know you haven't forgotten what he had taught you, but for now, mentally addressing him is the best you can do. Just like you told me to. And now I know what you meant; I feel exactly as you thought I would. I killed him; and all it took was pulling a trigger. He wasn't a good man, and he deserved this and even more. But still... But still...

It is sudden and violent, like a punch (or a bullet) to the stomach; the bounty poster falls from your fingers, and you fall to your knees, your legs unable to support you. Your head swims; your heart beats fast enough to hurt; cold sweat covers your back, your arms, your whole body...

A disgusting sound (bleeeaarrggghh) escapes your lips, followed by everything you had eaten in the last twelve hours.

*****

You start feeling a little better fifteen minutes later, and thank all the Gods you have water and paper towels in your bag, which allows you to clean yourself at least a little bit.

After a brief rest, you get to work, retrieving other tools from your bag: a knife, a sturdy sack, the sort you use to store grain or flour, and a tinderbox. You bit your lip, ordering yourself not to feel sick again, as you cut Vespertine's head, sawing through skin and tendons and bone and separating it from his body; consequently, you put it in the sack. Collecting wood takes you only a few minutes, since the countryside abounds with fallen branches and twigs; lighting a fire is equally easy, since you have been taught to use flint and steel since you were a little girl. Dragging your victim's body over the (still unlit) pyre is the hardest part, since he must be twice as heavy as you, but in the end you succeed, and soon Vespertine's remains are burning and then reduced to ashes, leaving no trace of his passing that an eventual friend or ally could trace back to you. Unsure of what to do with it, you finally bury the man's sword near the entrance of the mine, digging with your bare hands since you don't have a shovel at hand and making sure it cannot be found.

You then place the sack containing your victim's head in your bag; the idea of carrying that thing around is more than a little disgusting, but doing the same with the entire body would be much more tiring, and your grandfather said it will be more than enough to claim the bounty, since a severed head is clear proof of a person's death.

Soon after, you set off. You haven't lowered your guard yet, in case Vespertine hadn't come alone or had friends and allies nearby, not to mention that watching your back will now have to become the norm, but you feel relieved you have completed your task, and you can't wait to reward yourself with a good meal, cash the bounty and return home to tell your mother and grandfather about your first success as a mercenary.

You have started whistling a popular song of your island, the warmth of the blooming day kissing your skin, when suddenly you are not alone on the road anymore; a tall man is walking purposefully towards you, and towards the mine... a man with a large sword hanging from his belt.

Shit. Vespertine did say he was expecting someone, and while you cannot be sure this guy is (was) a friend of your victim and would want to avenge his death, the best, safest thing you can do is to get away as quickly as you can, before he realizes what has happened and that you must be responsible for it. Is it cowardly? Perhaps - no, it surely is, and your grandfather did tell you the honourable man is very often the dead man as well, and you are a mercenary, not a warrior, you are not bound by a code of conduct and it would be very stupid to risk your life when you have nothing to gain from it, but...

But...

"Excuse me." you call to the man who has by now walked five or six steps behind you, turning to look at him and thinking back to your brief conversation with Vespertine "Is your name... Mihawk?"

The man turns, clearly surprised to hear a stranger mention his name. He is very tall, slim but strong, dark-haired, practically but elegantly dressed.

"Do I know you?" he asks after a moment he has spent observing you.

"No, but perhaps we have a mutual acquaintance. Did you know Jack "The Tiger" Vespertine? Were you meant to meet him today?"

You grimace, realizing you have used the past tense when this man -Mihawk- still has no idea Vespertine is dead. This is probably the stupidest, most dangerous thing you have ever done, a leap in the dark, because your gun is still charged and nothing would stop you from at least trying to kill your second swordsman of the day, but you could simply keep walking, and he would have no way to know what has happened, since there is no trace of Vespertine's remains and by the time Mihawk may suspect he had been killed, you would be long gone.

Still. Something in your heart tells you you are doing the right thing, because you are not a coward, and because this man will not prove to be a danger for you. You don't know why, but you are sure.

"Is he a friend of yours?"

Mihawk brings his arms to his chest; he is still staring, and there is something in his gaze that makes you squirm - in his gaze, or perhaps in his eyes, which are of a very unusual colour...

"Why should I tell you?" he asks in the end.

"No reason, actually." you admit "It's just... well, I hope you were not close friends, or related, because he is dead."

Silence. You tense, ready for whatever his reaction will be, but the man lets his arms fall to his sides, without touching his sword - a good blade, he will tell you in time, but still largely inferior to Yoru, that will not come into his possession for a few years still.

"You killed him?"

"I did. Less than an hour ago, at the mine he was waiting for you at."

"Are you a pirate?"

No, just the daughter of one, you are for a moment about to answer, before quickly stopping yourself. You have been sworn to silence regarding the identity of your father, for the safety of your family and your own, and you have never been tempted to break that promise until now. What is happening to you?, you wonder, feeling strangely numbed all of a sudden, why do you instinctively feel able, or even eager, to share your secrets with a man you had never met before...?

(You will understand it; in time. And you will be happy of it.)

"No; I'm a mercenary working for the World Government." you answer in the end, trying to pull yourself together; it is technically not the truth, at least until you cash your first bounty, but the Marines do have a number of killers for hire on call, and who knows, perhaps one day you will be part of that selected circle... "Vespertine left a long list of victims behind him, there is a bounty on his head."

"I see."

You wait for him to elaborate, to express rage or regret or joy at the news of Vespertine's death, but Mihawk is clearly not the loquacious sort, because he keeps his emotions for himself, and "Thanks for telling me." he simply says.

"No problem. Why was he waiting for you?" you ask again, cocking your head; you have no idea of how dangerous he is, even now that he is little more than a boy, but even if you knew, you wouldn't be deterred. You are curious... and fascinated, somehow, by this stern and hermetic young man.

Mihawk looks at you, clearly disapproving of your curiosity, but in the end he sighs, and finally gives you the explanation you wanted. "We were meant to duel, Vespertine and I. He had challenged me a month ago, and we were meant to meet this morning at the mine. I... am running late, unfortunately, because the ship I took to reach this island clashed against a larger one and for a while it seemed it would go under."

"Oh, that's... scary."

He shrugs, clearly unconcerned. "I would have managed, I am a capable swimmer. I was just afraid Vespertine thought I had decided not to meet him because I was afraid."

"He... was a capable swordsman?" you ask again, still eager to learn more; the only bladed weapon you have ever handled is the knife you use at the table and, now, the larger one you took with you from home to separate your victim's head from his body, but you have always been fascinated by the world of the swordfighters, bound by a strict code of behaviour, who often have to prove themselves before a more experienced fighter accepts to train them and among whom most serious duels end with the death of one of the two opponents. For them, the weapon is not a tool, of defense and offense; it is... an art. A cult, almost.

"Above average, from what I saw, which is not saying much. But he had challenged me, and refusing would have been a stain upon my honour."

Just like you expected. "I see. Well." you add, suddenly embarrassed "I'm sorry I took your opponent away from you."

Mihawk shrugs, marginally more inclined to chat. "If he let you kill him, it means he wasn't a worthy opponent." he reasons; he has no facial hair, but his sideburns are long and neatly trimmed, and while already tall he's still a few inches away from his full stature "I should thank you for saving me a futile effort."

You cock your head, an eyebrow raised. "Are you saying I am less capable a markswoman than you are a swordsman?" you inquire; you don't care if Mihawk will propose to see for yourselves and challenge you, forgotten is the guilt you felt for ruining his morning. Who the hell this smart-ass thinks he is, especially considering you must be the same age? You don't care how actually powerful he is, you wouldn't even care if he were the world's strongest swordsman, no one can insult you and get away with it "Is it because I am a woman? Or because I use a gun and not a sword?"

"No, I..."

"I'll have you know I've been trained by one of the most capable former mercenaries of the four seas, and that Vespertine didn't even have the time to attack me before I put a bullet through his head."

"I'm sure you are more than capable." Mihawk says, clearly aiming to pacify you but, fortunately, without sounding patronizing "Forgive me; I meant no disrespect."

He seems sincere - he is, he will confess to you years later, and deeply embarrassed for the gaffe he just made; it is rare for him to admit he had erred... but, he will confide you with the shadow of a smile, he is happy those words didn't make you hate him, then and in the years to come. Because of this you decide to forgive him, and

"If you want we can split the bounty." you propose, feeling generous; you intended to donate the money to someone who needed it on your island, but you can take another assignment soon "Or, you know, there is Verspertine's sword, I can tell you where I buried it..."

Mihawk shakes his head. "I can only take another swordsman's blade if I am the one who bested them; in any case, I doubt a man like Vespertine owned a blade I could be interested in." he points out "And I don't need compensation; you killed him, you deserve to keep the money. Well, I... I suppose I should go back."

"Right..."

Silently, you both set off once more, walking side by side along the only path towards the nearest village. You are still on edge, both happy for your first success and shaken by the fact that you have, after all, just killed a man, but soon you find yourself focusing on something else... namely, on the young man walking next to you. He is undoubtedly handsome, but it's something else that piques your curiosity... a depth, and complexity, unusual for one so young, and that you can perceive behind his apparently impassible façade.

"So." you begin conversationally after a while; you have almost a mile to walk to the village, and maybe chatting will make you reach your destination faster "Are you any good with that sword?"

Mihawk grunts, the tiniest hint of amusement in his voice. "I like to think I am more than good."

"Really? Are you famous?"

"I am... becoming famous. This is why Vespertine wanted to duel me."

"And you think you would have beaten him?"

"I know I would have."

He speaks matter-of-factly, as if describing an undeniable truth and without the slightest hint of arrogance or overconfidence; you usually appreciate humility, and you have no way to know whether he is as good as he thinks he is, but you like the self-assurance he carries himself with.

"So this is what you do? Go around, duel other swordsmen so that you make a name for yourself as a powerful fighter?"

"I do." Mihawk easily acknowledges "When I'm not too busy fighting the Marines and looking for a loot or another."

"You're a pirate."

"I am. A wanted one, in case you were thinking of claiming my bounty as well."

You smile, aware you are both involved in a game whose rules are still undecided. "Is that a challenge?" you inquire, and Mihawk shrugs, looking straight in front of him.

"If you want to consider it as such."

"I see. Luckily for you, I intend to cash Vespertine's bounty before looking for another assignment, so I will not challenge you today."

"Luckily for me..."

Silence falls between you, an unexpectedly companionable one considering you have known each other only for a few minutes. As you glance sideways at Mihawk, you can't help noticing his eyes, yellow like the ones of a hawk; you have never seen anything of the sort, but there is beauty in his gaze.

"What about you?" Mihawk asks "What has brought you to become a mercenary?"

"Are you surprised?"

"Women are a minority in the trade, those as young as you even more so. You are wearing clothes of good quality, which means you are probably not doing it for the money. Am I right?"

"You are."

Mihawk grins. "As I thought. So what? Are you following in a relative's footsteps? Or were you simply bored?"

"Both things, in a sense." you admit, walking leisurely along the mud-smeared path; the fact that a virtual stranger is able to read you so easily should upset you, but it doesn't, maybe because you can perceive Mihawk poses no danger to you, or maybe not "I... simply needed to test myself. Growing up, I never had to worry about money, or fear for my safety; I'm not saying I was spoiled, or that I spend my days idling without duties and responsibilities, but I feared letting things go like they were meant to, I would become indolent, content with what I had but unable to aim higher. I never needed to prove I was strong, and clever, and capable of taking care of myself; but I wanted to make sure I was anyway."

You are not sure your reasoning makes sense, especially to someone who barely knows you, but Mihawk nods in understanding - in approval, even. "That was brave of you. And clever."

"I just wanted to do what I thought was right."

Twenty minutes of sporadic but pleasant conversation later, you have reached the village, actually little more than a handful of houses and little shops and a tiny harbour, connected by a regular ferry service to a larger island from where you can easily catch another boat to return home. Perhaps, you reflect, you should think about buying a small ship of your own; experienced sailors are not lacking on your island, and you could ask someone to teach you...

"You want to join me for a meal?" you propose as you walk past a tavern; you know you and Mihawk are destined to part soon anyway and will probably never meet again, but he is the most interesting person you have met in a long while, and you like talking to him "After all it's breakfast time..."

Mihawk hesitates for a moment, taken aback by your offer. "I'd... like that." he answers, and you could swear that surprises him as well "But I need to depart soon."

"I see. Well..."

You are both standing in the village's tiny, almost empty square. This is good-bye, then, you're about to say, but impulsively you step closer to the man in front of you, who tenses. "What...?"

"Your eyes." you murmur without realizing. You were right, they are yellow, their gaze piercing and deep, intense albeit not necessarily cruel "They are... beautiful."

"... you think?"

"Of course; I had never seen anyone with eyes like yours! They make you look like a bird of prey. Like an hawk."

Something in your words makes the man in front of you smile; he is flattered, and still not as good at hiding his emotions as he will be in twenty years. "I've been told that before."

"Is it hereditary? Do you have a particularly sharp vision or...?"

"I... don't think so; no one I have ever met has them, and I see normally."

"Amazing..."

Silence again; you face each other, both still so young, full of dreams and ambition, unaware of what the future has in store for you - individually and not. Neither has any idea you will meet again, and how your relationship will change and grow, but in that moment, both of you are sure, a sort of quiet, clear certitude: you will remember that brief encounter forever.

In the end Mihawk takes a step back, both literally and metaphorically. "I should go." he softly points out nodding in the direction of the village's harbour "So... good-bye."

"Good-bye, Mihawk." you answer, intimately saddened for reasons you can't fully explain even to yourself; it is not like you to get attached to people you barely know, but there is something interesting in this young swordsman, something special, and you wouldn't mind having the time to discover exactly what...

A nod, the hint of a smile, and he's walking away. You look at his retreating figure for a minute, his dark hair gently swaying in the breeze, his hand elegantly resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Maybe one day we'll meet again." you call out to him, making Mihawk turn "Maybe I'll be asked to bring you in to the Marines."

He smiles; once again, amused, but not patronizing. "I look forward to it." he answers, raising an hand in farewell "What is your name?"

"It's (name). (full name)."

"I'll be seeing you then, (full name)."

A minute later he has disappeared, hidden by the buildings across the square. You smile to yourself; something tells you Mihawk is destined to make a name for himself, as a pirate and even more as a swordsman, and you can only hope that, by your next meeting, you will have done the same.

Still, that could take years, and in the meantime you have a couple of more pressing matters to attend to: breakfast, since your stomach has started growling, and calling both your family, to let her know you're all right, and the Marines.

You decide to take care of that first, to get it over with. You glance once more at the tavern, hoping the coffee they offer is better than the one you drank on the ferry, retrieve your transponder snail from a side pocket of your bag, and dial the number you had learnt by heart before setting off from home. You could technically cash Vespertine's bounty in any Marine base of the world, but you decided to do it at their HQ, especially since it's your first time; you hope it will be easier to get noticed, and make a name for yourself as a capable mercenary.

"Good morning. Who do I have to talk to in order to claim a bounty? Vice-Admiral Garp? Yes, put me through to him, please..."

[study-for-hogwarts]

Since I just finished my bachelor thesis and have all this -for now- unnecessary knowledge swirling around in my head, I let it out here, in case anyone can find it useful.

I present: the biggest (formating & general) rules in thesis writing (as proposed by my German professor):

1. Per page: at least 2 maximum 4 paragraphs. Professors don't like to have one huge block of text for more than half a page. They will be less likely to want to read your paper.

2. Figures and Images: put them in the text where they are spoken about, don't just refer to them being in the appendix. It disrupts the reading flow and no professor likes to shuffle back and forth in a paper multiple times. Also, images and figures should be centralised on a page, seem coherent with each other in their entirety (especially if you created them yourself, use one colour and design pallette if possible) and be named correctly. Additionally, ich you use more than 3 or 4 images/figures, have a table of tables/figures in the front of your paper after table of contents.

3. Use figures and Images - be visual, make your thesis as easy as possible to understand. No one likes to read something and have his brain in knots the whole time.

4. Use times new Roman (or Arial) in size 12, 1.5

5. Recap: If your paper is really long, we're talking about 45 pages plus and you are talking about something from chapter 2 in chapter 7, briefly (!) recap it for ease of understanding and to reinforce your red string (roter Faden).

6. Subtitles: rather have too many than too few subtitles, they make it easier to navigate the paper and help you keep track of the smaller sections (they can also help in the writing process as too not lose focus of what you are doing).

7. Limitations and future research: at the end of your paper, after the discussion and before the conclusion, you have to name limitations. If you think you had none, look again. NO paper, none at all has no limitations. If you can think only of a few, you can also add them in one or two sentences to the conclusion, but it's better to have a separate part. For theses or papers in general, common limitations are time constraint, limited access to data, limited know-how, etc. After limitations, you can have another small chapter called "future research", here you can put all the ideas that you had during writing, which are in relation to your main topics. Maybe you would have liked to research more into a specific area, or you were missing key information somewhere. In future research you can put all the ideas you would like to see researched in the future.

8. Page numbers: i hope you were clever and formatted your document with page numbers, titles and subtitles before even starting to write (if you weren't, like me), it's not horrible, but it can be slightly annoying. Don't try to do it by yourself if your not sure. Just don't. You will probably get frustrated and your stress levels will rise even more. Just Google "how to multiple kinds of page numbers Microsoft word" and follow the instructions exactly. This saves you time and nerves. Usually in theses, you use Greek page numbers (I,II,III,IV,V,VI,...) For table of contents until the introduction, and then continue with them as soon as your bibliography starts. For the part in between (introduction until conclusion) you use Roman (?) numbers (1,2,3,...).

9. Titles: if you use 1. 1.2 1.2.1 etc., make sure that it is necessary to use things like 4.5.5.1.1. A rule of thumb is, if you can't say 2 (i.e. 4.5.5.1.1 but not 4.5.5.1.2) than you don't need to say 4.5.5.1.1 at all but put that part unter 4.5.5.1. Of course, this rule does not work all the time, but I like to check the necessity of my structure in this way.

10. Plan more days: When you are nearly done with your writing process, many of us estimate 1 day for formatting and 1 for proof reading. This is, was and never will be enough. Especially not if you are a perfectionist. Plan at least 1 week for formatting and proofreading. Honestly I would recommend 10 days. Because after writing a huge paper like this you are bound to be exhausted and will crash some days. Also, it is good to take 1-2 days of distance from your work to have a fresh point of view. If I would write a bachelor thesis again, I honestly would calculate 2 weeks for formatting and proofreading. If you have to "fix" your sources, definitely take 10 days. You will take 2 days for sources, if you have to find additional ones, or check them.

11. Last but not least: if possible, register your bachelor thesis (i.e. in Germany that is the point when you officially start your writing period (usually around 9-12 weeks) as late as possible. Do as much research, etc. before this time starts. I won't say write at least half of your thesis before you start this period and have all your questionnaires/interviews/or whatever research type you use ready to go. I won't say that, but well... Just, 9 weeks is nothing. Honestly, think about the 2 weeks towards proofreading, sources and formatting (+trying to get calm after being stressed continuously for 7 weeks (I was)). Just, if you think now is the time to register, wait another two weeks.

That's all for now, I know I will use this again for my master thesis, so I will leave this here for now. I hope it helps some of you too.🤗

[hitechlatte]

Game On - Rise!Future!Donnie X GN!Reader

All 4-1 Challenge Fanfiction

Prompt: Reader continually uses TERRIBLE pick up lines on your choice of turtle, trying to drop the hint.

(I may been VERY lenient with the prompt, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless)

Warnings: Lots of Swearing

This is based in future timeline, several years after start of Kraang Invasion.

Saw some entries for this and got invested so I wanted to whip something up real quick for it lol.

ALSO WARNING! My fic is SFW and so anyone can read but a lot of the other fics in this contest are not, so just wanted to give peeps a heads up if they look at other entries, which you should if you are of age because they are rad, but warning has been given.

Challenge Hosted by: @turtle-babe83 @thelaundrybitch @leosgirl82 @nittleboo @tmnt-tychou and @post-apocalyptic-daydream

Also stole puns from here: https://thedarkestroast.com/coffee-puns/#Jokes_About_Drinking_Coffee

FIC UNDER KEEP READING

Game On

Clutching tightly to the mug in your hand, your steps echoed in the corridor. It had only been your second day in the NYC safe haven and some lady named Cassandra had already found you a job on base.

And of course, even in the apocalypse, you were still working as a barista.

But at least this way you could be helpful and show your gratitude. If the recon team hadn’t found you hiding in that decrepit Stock & Shop when they did…

Well... You didn’t want to think about what could have been.

As you reached the end of the cave’s offshoot, you found a large metal door built into the natural structure of the tunnel. With a perplexed look, you gazed at the panel towards the right of the entrance and pressed the ‘call’ button.

“What.” A voice curtly snapped.

“Is this uh… Derek? Your brother Mikey said to bring you some coffee.” You told the panel.

“Ah.” The voice spoke back, “And did this brother of mine tell you to play into the role of barista by perpetuating the stereotype that those who handle coffee somehow lose their ability to correctly recall a name? If this is his poor attempt to simulate normalcy when I’m already stressed out, you can inform him I’m not amused.”

Fuck... You groaned in your mind, ecstatic to be making such great first impressions.

“Did you at least get my order right? Or is that part of your performance as well?” The voice continued.

“It’s just a double espresso. It’s kind of hard to fuck that up” You commented.

“Well at least you’re not entirely inept.” The voice groaned, “Bring it to my desk.”

As you harshly cursed at yourself, you could hear the whirls of an engine. To your left, the metal door slid open, showcasing a large cavern filled with machines and wires.

Slowly stepping into the space, your eyes tried their best to take everything in. Machines flickered and buzzed all around you, while monitors stretched across the walls. The large screens lined out routes of the kraang activity and the recon teams. As you walked deeper into the room, you could hear the clattering of a keyboard. 

Following the noise, you could see one of the turtles sitting at a desk with several monitors. Numerous windows were scattered across the screens as he fervently typed away.

“Here’s your double espresso.” You flatly commented.

“Doppio, you mean?” The turtle corrected without looking away from his screen.

You rolled your eyes, “I’m surprised you actually know what it’s called.”

“I, unlike many residing in these halls, have class.” The turtle commented, “Besides, I’m the reason we even have an espresso machine.”

You let out a soft chuckle as you turned to head out of the room. However the turtle spoke up again, stopping you in your tracks.

“Has anyone walked you through how to use your communicator yet?” The turtle asked, his nose still buried in the monitors.

Turning back with a confused look you nodded, “Yeah, I got the rundown.”

“Good. I’m adding your device to a pager. Do whatever your typical duties are unless you receive a ping from me. The kitchen should already know this, but prioritize my orders. If I pass out when I’m supposed to be monitoring missions that will not end well.”

“Is that… uh… healthy?” You inquired.

“No, but what other choice do we have?” The turtle flatly stated as he seemed to read through something on his screen.

“Touche.” You shrugged your shoulders.

You went to take another step towards the exit, but then stopped once more.

“Oh guess I should apologize about the name mix up. What um. What is it actually?”

“It’s Donatello, or maybe I should have you simply refer to me as Donnie or even D. Since that may be easier for your poor mind to remember.” Donnie mocked with a devious tone in his voice.

Two can play this game. You thought.

With a snicker you commented back, “Ah Dennis? Cool. I can remember that.”

You could hear the turtle groan as he turned his chair around to glare at you. He seemed like he was going to chew you out until he saw the grin plastered across your face.

“Oh... You were kidding.” Donnie said, as he roughly rubbed his forehead, “Just go and let me get back to my work.”

“Sure thing, Daniel.” You called back as you made your way out of the room. 

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

Over the next several weeks, the purple turtle seemed to slowly warm up to you. Your quick order drop off with whatever name you chose to call him that day, eventually turned into longer chats. You’d stick around for a bit, asking him how his work was going or to share gossip you’d heard from around the settlement.

One particular morning, you walked with a pep in your step. The prior night's recon team returned with a bunch of fancy coffee grounds from a nearby Whole Foods. You couldn’t help but bask in the smells emanating from Donnie’s mug.

Typing your code into the panel of the lab door, the metal whooshed opened and you swiftly headed to Donnie’s desk.

“Morning Deiphobus. Got a batch of fancy new grounds this morning and I have a feeling you’ll really like them.” You smirked.

“I’m sorry, Deiphobus?” Donnie asked as he turned to you with a grin on his face, “What is this 1250 BCE?”

“I’m running out of names!” You exclaimed, “It’s not my fault you drink like 4 coffees a day. Besides, how is that any worse than Donatello?”

“Donatello is a classic.” The turtle said, puffing out his chest as he turned back to his monitor, “Besides, where did you even find that name?”

“Some Shakespeare book.”

“Someone’s getting desperate.”

“I’m sorry it's not like we still have google and I can look up one of those stupid 3 billion baby name lists.”

“Oh if anything I commend your research.” Donnie snickered, “I’m just surprised you can actually read Shakespeare. I thought baristas were notorious for their illiteracy.”

“You’re awful.”

“Or maybe you’re just jealous you’re not as witty as myself.”

“If anything you’re jealous! I’m hella whitty.” You quickly defended.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh it’s Game On, asshat.” You laughed, “Just wait, next time you see me you won’t know what hit you.”

A few hours passed when you heard your pager ping again. With a smirk, you whipped up his doppio and proudly made your way over to the lab.

As you reached his desk, you loudly cleared your throat. The noise caused the turtle to turn his chair and meet your gaze.

“Yes?” He asked.

“I, as I’m sure you’re well aware, am incredibly witty.” You said as you held the mug close to your chest.

“Uh-huh.”

“And someone as witty as myself, knows when a schtick has to end. So here is my new proposal.”

Donnie gave you a look of disbelief as he waited.

“Hello there, Donnie.” You began.

“Ah, my actual name. How witty. He said sarcastically.”

“Shush. That’s not it. Let me finish.” You flailed.

The purple turtle rolled his eyes as he leaned his elbow on his desk and propped up his chin.

“I just wanted to say… I made this cup of coffee, espresso-ly for you.”

The purple turtle stared at you, his eyes going wide.

"No." He said.

"Yes." You smirked.

“Oh god please no!” Donnie groaned loudly and buried his face in his desk. 

Your laughing echoed throughout the room as you nearly spilled his drink. Placing the mug down on the desk, you clutched onto your stomach and tried to stifle your laughter.

“Oh- oh that was too perfect. Leo was so right.” You cackled.

“Of course he’s in on this.” Donnie mumbled into the desk.

“Hey, he's the hero of this story. He’s the one who gave me the book.”

Donnie sat up straight and gave you a perplexed look, “Book?”

“Oh yeah, you know that run to the library last week? Leo found a book of ten thousand puns.”

“T-ten- THOUSAND?” Donnie could barely choke out.

“Yep!” You smirked, “And there’s a whole chapter just dedicated to coffee.”

Donnie groaned as he planted his face back down onto the desk.

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

Each pun got progressively worse as you made your way through the list. Occasionally a joke would elicit a slight chuckle from the aloof purple turtle, but the other 90% of the time, he would simply groan or threaten to have you kicked out of base.

However, as the next few days turned into weeks, you began running out of material.

Or well… Material you felt comfortable using.

One section in the coffee chapter was titled Coffee Puns About Love and Romance. Every time you searched for a line to use, you always quickly skipped past that portion of the list. 

But, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Selecting the least aggressive pick up line from the options provided, you made your way over to his lab.

As you reached his desk, you placed the mug down on the surface without a word and sighed harshly.

“Ah, has the day come? Have you finally exhausted that grotesque list?” Donnie chuckled as he turned to you.

“No. But we are scraping the bottom of the barrel now.”

“Oh?”

Shaking out your hands and taking another breath you stared at the turtle. Your lips were reluctant, but you were able to form the words.

“You’re brew-ti-ful.”

His eyes went wide and his face blushed a harsh red.

“Oh god.” He groaned, “Please tell me ‘bottom of the barrel’ doesn’t mean the only puns left are awful pick up lines.”

“I mean I could tell you that, but then I’d be lying.”

Donnie groaned as he roughly slapped his own face.

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

The pick up lines were much more entertaining than you expected. Seeing how madly he’d blush or stammer at your commentary was adorable, and you proudly played your part. For the days you were feeling extra adventurous, you‘d even pair the line with a wink or by blowing him a kiss.

However, when the list of lines was depleted, you did everything you could to keep the game going. On your offtime, you’d sit for hours, trying to concoct more coffee based pick up lines to try on him. You even found yourself practicing in the mirror to make sure you got the words just right.

And as this next chapter of the game continued on, you soon found yourself perplexed.

You don’t know when or how it happened…

But you started meaning what you said. 

To no avail, you kept trying to pinpoint when everything changed. Was it when your generic lines became more personalized? Or was it when your supplemental teasing went from playful winks to gentle fingers tracing the edge of his jaw.

Although you couldn’t find the answer you were looking for, you did know this.

It wasn’t your fault. 

If he didn’t have such vibrant reactions, you wouldn’t have become so obsessed with the game. 

It still would have been just a game. 

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

Late one night, your pager beeped at you. As you tapped on the device you groaned.

“He knows it’s 4am right?”

After slowly trudging out of bed, you lethargically made his drink and headed over to the lab.

Rubbing your eyes, you mistyped your code a few times before finally opening the door.

The turtle was hunched over his desk. The taps of the keys sounded slower than usual.

“Dude, you owe me for making me get my ass out of bed.” You yawned.

“Blame Leo.” Donnie groaned, “The idiot winded up setting off a Kraang patrol unit.”

“Everyone, okay?!” You exclaimed.

“Thankfully.” Donnie sighed, “But I lost some of my search drones. Had to play distraction for a while so they could make an escape. Everything seems calm now, but I want to stay up for a bit longer just to make sure they return safely.”

“That’s good to hear.” You sighed, “Well... here’s your drink.”

“Ahh finally run out of lines?” Donnie groggily mocked as he continued to look at the screen.

His snarky attitude woke something up inside of you. 

Leaning forward, you gently grasped his chin, turning his face to meet yours. His cheeks burned vibrantly as he stared at you. With a devious gaze, your lips curled up slightly. 

“Oh I’m sorry. I almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me.” You snickered as your fingers still softly held his chin.

But while you tried to search your mind for the pun you had thought up on the way over, you couldn’t help but continually drop your gaze down to his lips. Silently cursing your tired stupor, you tried to regain focus. 

Donnie just sat there, barely breathing, as you continued to filter through your thoughts. He too, struggled to meet your gaze as his eyes continued to fall upon your lips.

However after a few more breathless moments, the line finally returned to your mind. With a slight blush on your cheeks, you smirked as you spoke.

“Words cannot express how much you mean to me.”

Both of you sat there frozen. Your eyes widened as the words left your lips. 

“Fuck I said it wrong! Sorry it’s late and-” You began to splutter.

But you were cut off by Donnie’s lips crashing into yours.

Game Over.

[rotten7rat]

Jason Todd Playlist Analysis

PART 1

Crooked Path by Polaris

One of many songs that will be about the difficult relationship between Jason and Bruce. Kind of about Jason reaching out to Bruce just for him to not be there, and about Bruce reaching out just for Jason not to be there either. Their differences divide them, but their love keeps them from parting.

I'm reaching out, please take my hand

The water's getting higher and I can't understand

Why I can't pull you in

Do you even care?

Do you even want me there?

This part refers to Jason reaching out to Bruce through his ultimatums and attempted truces eventually, just to seemingly only get Batman and not Bruce. Jason is struggling to stay afloat while feeling so isolated, he needs Bruce but isn’t directly saying so. He questions if Bruce even cares for him or is glad he is alive.

We are the victims just like our parents taught us to be

Roots planted firmly, but we fell so far from the tree

And still we cling to the past with an iron grip

Comparing their origins as heroes/antiheroes. Bruce became Batman because of the murder of his parents. Jason became Robin first to help Batman in his quest and to help the victims of crime, especially women and children. He then became Red Hood as a means of getting revenge and protecting Crime Alley. Despite their intentions they both have fallen far from the original inspirations of their work. Both Bruce and Jason cling to their pasts to justify the decisions they make and the work they do as heroes.

My will is spent

I used the very last drop

Trying to keep my head on straight enough

I know it hurts

It hurts to feel it all slip right past you

I just want to ask you

This part can reference their final confrontation in UtRH. Jason spent years training and planning for his takeover of Crime Alley and this moment in particular. He doesn’t blame Bruce for his death, he acknowledges even that it hurt him.

Was there something holding you back?

Have you had to cover your tracks

So long, you lost your identity?

Is there something dragging you down?

Crippled under the weight of the crown

What are you waiting, oh, what are you waiting for?

What are you waiting for?

He's asking what stopped Bruce from killing the Joker, what’s stopping him now. In his mind, Bruce treated his death not as him losing a son, but as Batman losing a soldier. He’s buried Bruce Wayne under so many layers of Batman that he’s lost his own identity. He understands that “Batman doesn’t kill” but why not just this once? Why try to live up to the standards of Batman when your son has been murdered?

For all of our differences

I always said I'd be there if you should come undone

Jason was by Bruce’s side as Robin for years, and even now is still in his corner. When push comes to shove he will always help Bruce, even if its just as Red Hood and Batman (obviously this depends on the comic and writer).

There are ghosts in every window

And they'll follow you back home

But if you stay a moment

I can tell you all I know

Of how these times have changed us

How they bring us to our knees

How they send us down the crooked path

Divide us temporarily

This could be Jason talking to Bruce, but also Bruce talking to Jason. Jason is asking Bruce to understand him, Bruce is telling Jason that he does. Both fall on deaf ears.

I said I'm sorry, I swear I'll do better

I never thought we'd have to carry this weight together

This is contagion, a plague that I bear

And it kills me to say that I really need you here

Again, this could be both Jason and Bruce talking to one another. They’re both sorry, they both swear to do better. They’re both probably apologising for the wrong thing. They never thought that this would be their relationship. Even after everything that’s happened, they still can’t part ways, they’re too bonded. They both carry the weight of Jason’s death, his return, but they can’t just say “I’m sorry, I need you, please come back.”

[unknown-drug]

A GUIDE TO SURVIVE

All the things I wish someone would I told me before descending in this Hellhole.

🦋 ️ If you were thinking about diving into the EDs World for the first time, go back and think again (this is not worth it, I swear to every God in this universe. Just run as far as you can from it) But if sadly you are, you have to be completely educated.. Do some research about everything it consists of. Literally get as much information as you can (pros and cons, nutrition, exercises, side effects, long/short terms, overuses of anything, etc). There is so much more than diet and food involved, so just don’t be stupid about it.

🦋 ️EDs DON’T HAVE NUMBERS. Someone who is 200+ pounds is as valid as someone who is 100 and under. Stop bullying people because they are heavier or lighter than you are. Society fucks us enough so no need to add more hate. We are all in the same shit anyways… No one has the same body as you. Your number compared to others might not look the same. So yes, your thinspo is all cute but you have to consider all the criterias. Genetics, overall stats, gender.. Weight is just a number among many other things.

🦋 Weighing yourself every single day is NOT the most effective or accurate way to see/track results. The scale can shift up to 5 lbs a day (minus or plus, I know this is insane). Some specialists recommend doing it 1-3 times a week, always on the same day, so that you can see a more accurate graph of the fluctuation. (Keep in mind that you have to account for any hormonal changes/cycles when it comes to your result, I suggest comparing each week of your cycle with one another.)

🦋 You should consider using other methods to track your progress other than weighing yourself like a tape measurement can be really effective for body dysmorphia and if you have access to a gym ask them to check your body fat percentage. You would be surprised to see just how much it can help. Because at some point, the balance between muscle and fat is so small that physical change won’t be as noticeable. But seeing actual results from other means can really boost your mental state.

🦋 Those who will notice “the problem" won't be the ones you want. And those who are really there for you are not always the one you thought would be.. But do not throw away the help if you need it.

🦋 Do not beat yourself too hard if you slip up. It might get you to binge 10x harder, too. Nobody is perfect. We all binge once in a while. The weight did not appear out of thin air. It is a work in progress..

🦋🦋🦋

I know there is this big debate about the famous “body reset” metabolism day. Some say it helps others would disagree. It's the same thing when I come to fasts and detox/cleanse. At this point, you can follow whoever you wish. All of these help to some degree but aren't necessarily what your body needs. You need to have a good understanding of your system before committing to anything. To each their own.. All studies point to a “sort of reset” but there is not a universal way of doing it. So yes, here are your most common options, but this would depend on too many specifics to have a straight answer. There is no on/off switch when it comes to your body, yes it can feel like it “slowed down” but it is just because your body takes more time to use whatever it has to formulate energy. It takes your organism unequal time to synthesize different food - fat compared to carbs or even muscular tissues. This is why it is not just about the starvation aspect of your ED. It is also important to look at what you're feeding yourself with. Not all diets work the same and provide the same amount of energy. Choose your own path, but just be aware of all the knowledge you can put your hands on.

🦋🦋🦋

✨️✨️✨️ There is no magical pill, no tea bullshit and no fucking food miracle to lose weight. Yes there are some meds that can help (laxative, diuretic and appetite suppressant) but it is mostly out of side effect. Ultimately, your body will get used to them so they will feel like they aren't working anymore and you will feel the need to take more. Do not take more than the recommended amount. Be extremely careful if you are using them and please if you see anything out of the ordinary talk to professionals. Medications without the proper follow up can be horribly harmful in the long run. ✨️✨️✨️

🦋 TAKE YOUR FUCKING VITAMINS. I can't stress that enough but you need them just to make sure your body won’t rupture. It can prevent so many side effects to EDs and even trips to the hospital. Look for multivitamin, biotine, B-complex, folic acid (ladies), iron, potassium and magnesium… See to have some blood work done every year just to see where/or if you are lacking anything crucial.

🦋 DRINK YOUR GODDAMN WATER , BITCH. Your body will give up faster if you don't drink enough water compared to food. If you are fasting or anything, this shit is MANDATORY. And no, coffee, coke zero and teas should not count in your water intakes (sorry). It is so important for weight loss, plateaus and in general. The general rule is about 2L a day but you will need more depending on your lifestyle. There is many any calculators online or you can just go with the basic **1500mL - 20(weight in kg-20)= x**. It is the average amount in mL you should aim for.

🦋 Doing the same exercises over and over again will not help you lose weight. In fact, it is quite the contrary. You will have to switch it up, do cardio (even if it sucks), and try weight lifting (nooo it is not gonna make you look bulky.. Lean muscle burns more calories even though it weighs more.), find a sport that you like, yoga and pilates count, and even dancing is a good way to lose weight. You don’t have to spend endless hours in the gym (if you want to, go for it), 4 exercises is a good workout, and 30 mins a day every day is the bare minimum. Walking is quite underestimated but is actually pretty effective. Have fun with it cause it will be easier to stick to it and not dread it.

🦋 Sleep is MANDATORY. Don't think that staying awake all night doing exercises is helping you. In fact, your metabolism will go down 10 to 20 % if you sleep less than 6 hours a night. Get the rest you need.

🦋Food is not the enemy. When it becomes your aly it’s going to be a blessing. At the end of the day, you need the nutrients, So stop working against it and make it a tool for you to reach all your goals. It can get you the body that you want without too much work tbh.

🦋 ️ You guys have to stop with the famous “breakfast is the most important meal of the day”. If you were to look deeper into things you would know that the word originates from “breaking a fast” because it is the first meal after a long period of fast (when you sleep) depending on how long and everything but technically it still applies. So yes, it does help to kick start your metabolism, but there are many other ways to do so. Do what works for your lifestyle. Intuitive eating can really help with the disorder.

🦋Not all diets are going to work for you. Don't get discouraged. Try a few and see what works. Keep in mind to incorporate a little bit of every food group (if possible) to make sure you won't lack any crucial nutrients. Again, do your research.

🦋When reaching your GW or UGW, you may still feel unhappy. Yes, it feels like if you were skinnier, the world would turn around and become a wonderful place to be, but it’s not necessarily the case. It is not a magical way to solve all your problems, so be aware of possible disappointments.

🦋Keep yourself accountable. Stop blaming others or your life for things you have done. At the end of the day, you are the one doing everything. Excuses are not gonna help you achieve anything.

🦋The saddest part about this is that the sense of control is only temporary... If you have any other mental illnesses, it can mess you up so bad.. Mixing everything can be a lot at times, and I know how overwhelming it is to do all that by yourself. But, one way or another, you will have to go up against your demon and fight them or die trying.. Literally.

🦋This is not all rainbows and unicorn illnesses. It is hard to live through and even harder to witness it on someone else. You will cry, you will scream, and you will feel depressed and hopeless at times. Try to get someone you can talk to or vent to. This is why the online community is a huge part of EDs. Don't keep it all inside. It will break you.

🦋If you ever relapse after more than a year of recovery, you have to keep in mind that your body has changed. Especially if it went through puberty or if it is somewhere in your adulthood. If you plan on using the same old tricks you did as a teenager, I am sorry to announce to you that it might not work. Your relapse is like a whole new ED. You have to relearn everything about your body. It has adjusted to your harsh treatment and will definitely not cooperate the way it did before.

🦋If you are not ready mentally for recovery, it will NEVER happen. It cannot be forced. Recovery is the hardest part of the illness, but it is doable. And it takes time. It is not something that can be done overnight. Be patient, and at the end of the day, love yourself. But keep in mind that even fully recovered, the numbers won't magically stop in your mind. It will stay there as an afterthought. Some can live with it, and some can’t. If you need help, go get some.

🦋Calorie Counting🦋

So this is the most controversial topic of all but fuck it. This is my blog anyway I do what I want. Do with this information as you please. I am no doctor, just a bitch with a pharmacy and nutrition background.

🦋If you are to calculate calories, there are two crucial details you have to account for; your BMR (basal metabolic rate) and macronutriments.

🦋For macros, learn what they are and how to use them. It’s not just a question of fat, carbs, and protein. Look into understanding food labels and portion size and the percentages it represents in your daily food.. Especially when it comes to dry and wet food (ex: food labels on pasta and rice are for quantity when it is dry). It can really make a difference at the end of the day to have a good ratio of each group.

Most diets given by your trainers or dieticians are based on your BMR. Depending on how they calculated it, your exercise is already accounted for. So, in that case, you can not add your “active calories burned” from your smartwatch or whatever in your own calculations, thinking you can eat more or lose more. If you do so it’s going to nullify your progress for the day.

First, calculate your BMR (and no I’m not going to get involved in the gender debate, so use what you want).

Men= 66 + (6.23 x weight lbs) + (12.7 x height inch) - (6.8 x age in years)

Women= 655 + (4.35 x weight lbs) + (4.7 x height inch) - (4.7 x age in years)

Then multiplyz it by your activity level, and you will get your calories to maintain your actual weight. (1.2 = nothing, 1.375 = lightly, 1.55 = moderate). **I recommend just sticking with the lowest activity level possible since you want to know the minimum deficit of calories you can consume. So either do the 1.2 or not.

Now look into your goal. How much weight do you want to lose and by when ? The rough estimate is that 1 lbs = 3500 cals.

Let’s say you want to lose 10 lbs in 6 weeks. You will need to burn about 35,000 cal total in 6 weeks = 5,834 cal / week = 834 cal / day. (This is your deficit). Take your BMR again and subtract the last number to see how much your allowance is (ex: a BMR of 1800 means that your diet would be 1800 - 834 = 966 cal a day) It’s only a rough estimate. Because your BMR changes from day to day depending on the amount of stuff you do. If your deficit ends up negative, you need to revise your goal because on paper, it is unachievable and highly dangerous.

✨️✨️ Like I said , everything is just an estimate. Water weight and hormonal cycle are not included in this little math. ✨️✨️

🦋Purging🦋

You have to understand a few things before even thinking about doing it

🦋The biggest thing about purging is the long-lasting consequences. The acid in your stomach is extremely harmful. Think about it. It literally dissolves organic stuff to virtually nothing. There are a lot of medical problems that are linked to purging.

🦋The calorie absorption starts as soon as you begin chewing your food. There is acid that is released through your spit (yes, even if it is less acidic than your stomach, it is still there). So the famous method “chew and spit” is not the best because it is still harmful to your mouth health.

🦋 Purging is not a miracle erase switch. There is no Uno Reverse here. Even if you were to purge the entirety of your stomach, and that only a mere second after finishing eating, your body has already absorbed a portion of the calories ! A general rule is that about 1/3 to 2/3 of the calories will be left behind.

🦋 Now, even after all that you do purge, DO NOT BRUSH YOUR TEETH RIGHT AFTER. I swear to God that this is the worst thing you could do. 🦋

🦋If you were to ask the dentist when is the best time to brush your teeth in the morning, they would all agree that you can do it right after you wake up or 30-60 minutes after consuming food because of the acid mentioned earlier. Imagine how bad it would be after vomiting. So after a purge, you should try to swish some bicarbonate and water to bring the pH down and swallow half a glass to ease up your mouth, esophagus, and stomach. (I do 1 tbsp for 1 cup of water).

🦋Also, DO NOT PURGE if you don't drink enough liquid in your stomach. It is easier to do it when you do not only have solid shit in and less gross. Also it helps to reduce the acidity when it comes out.

🦋 Unfortunately, not all people have a gag reflex. Some studies show that nearly ⅓ of the population claim to feel it. Furthermore, it is shown that people who use any tobacco substance or other smoking substitute may be more prone to experience the lack of it. But it might also be that your body got used to your “mia” methods, thus being more resistant to where and how you are doing it. In that case, specialists point to other factors that can trigger it. So people will have a reaction caused by smell, others would find it with different stimulus points such as the roof of the mouth, back of the throat, tongue and near the tonsils. Moreover it can help to change the “tool” you are using (like going with something with a different texture like a cotton swab or the dental wood stick since it might help to trigger the reaction).

With that being said, if there is one thing you should remember about this whole thing is to be careful and aware.

Stay safe lovies. 🦋

[apritellointeractive]

Sworn to Devotion: Chapter 2 - Part 2

>>Tie-breaker winner: HOBBIT

>> April decides to take the dirt path.

(Art by @lovelyladylavie)

April points to her right. “Let’s take the path. Maybe it’ll take us back to the main road?” 

Donatello hums as he brings a hand up to his chin. “Potentially, though it could lead us into trouble with your attempted kidnappers. Are you sure?”

April pauses, considering the potential problem he raised, then shrugs. “I don’t want either of us breakin’ a leg tryin’ to go off-road. Besides–” she knocks his chest with the back of her hand “–I’m confident you’ll protect me.” 

She thinks she sees the barest hint of a blush on his cheeks, partially hidden by the purple mask he’s wearing on his face. But she blinks and it’s gone.

Did April imagine it?

The softshell clears his throat. “Well, let’s get moving. We’re losing precious daylight.”

Together they set out on the rough dirt path. Donatello leads the way down the inclined path, his footsteps light on the dirt and gravel below him. April follows behind him, though her steps sound much heavier, the gravel crunching under her heel as she kicks up dust. The shoes she stole from the boxes in the cave are too big for her, but there’s no way she’s wearing her high heels.

Besides, they weren’t in her favorite color anyway. 

They’re quiet as they descend down the mountain. Almost too quiet. April opens and closes her mouth multiple times, trying to find some topic to talk about. But… she’s not sure what to talk to him about. She wants to ask him about what happened earlier. Did she embarrass him? Does he not like being touched? But she feels too awkward to broach the question.

She’s also not sure if it’s the best time to ask him about his inventions. His brows furrowed and his lips are straight, and she doesn’t want to distract him from doing his duty of protecting her.

So April decides to just keep her mouth shut and observe the scenery as they walk through the forest.

They’re making good progress, with April humming quietly to herself while Donatello’s completely silent except for the soft clinking of his armor. At least an hour passes before Donatello suddenly stops in his tracks, and she almost runs into his shoulder.

“Did you hear that?”

April regains her balance and looks around. “Um, no?”

They stand completely still, Donatello holding his bō in a defensive position as his eyes darting around. He suddenly jerks his head forward, looking down the winding path. April extends her head forward, eyes squinting and ears straining to identify whatever has Donatello’s attention. 

“Someone’s coming!” He whispers urgently. “Quick! Off the road. We need to hide.”

Before April can object, she’s being pulled off the path. Her guard’s hustling into the forest and away from the path, fallen leaves getting kicked up into the air. He skids to a stop right before a five-foot drop, the edge surrounded by twisting roots of nearby trees and large boulders. 

He drops down and turns to her, offering her his hand. “Princess, take my hand! Hurry! I don’t want us to be spotted.” 

April furrows her brow. “Why are you hiding? If it’s those ninja dudes you can take them.”

Donatello shakes his head. “I don’t know if it’s them, or how many of them there could be. I cannot risk them injuring or recapturing you. Please! Just take my hand!”

She grumbles but reluctantly takes his hand, letting him help her hide. It doesn’t escape her as she joins him that his hands are so much bigger than hers—her hand is practically engulfed by his, and she can’t help but blush. He guides her to sit down, and she squeaks as he pulls her close to his chest so they’re both out of view of the path. 

For a few seconds all April can focus on is just how strong he is. Well, she knew he had to be strong and capable, as he had no problem saving her earlier. But to feel his gentle but firm grip around her sent a warm flush across her cheeks and chest. If it weren’t for the armor, she bets should would be able to feel his muscles underneath his clothes.

… why is she thinking about this?

April doesn’t have time to ponder over her thoughts as the thunderous noise of what sounds like a whole platoon of people catches her attention. While she can’t see them, she guesses that they’re running up up the path.

Donatello pulls her closer. 

“Hurry up!” A loud commanding voice barks. “The princess might be still in our old base!”

The thunderous footfall continues as they travel up the path, away from their hiding spot and toward the cave. However, as the group gets farther and farther away, it becomes apparent that there are some stragglers.

“Dude, I ain’t meant for running,” one of the stragglers gasps, “Why do they need all of us to find the princess again?”

“I dunno, man,” another whines, “All I know is I need a break.”

The two keep grumbling and whining while Donatello and April remain hidden. However, it quickly becomes apparent that the two stragglers are not moving. They can’t stay here forever or they will be discovered.

April…

>> Picks up a rock and suggests they throw it. >> Unsheathes her dagger and makes stabbing motions toward the stragglers. >> Points forward and suggests they sneak away, deeper into the forest.

[anxiouspineapple99]

You Hold the Stars and My Heart

Summary: Rex is fairly certain you hung the stars. He is smitten and is going to tell you exactly how he feels. Inspired by the lyrics from the song Stars by Skillet.

Pairing: Rex x GN!Reader

Word Count: 888

Warnings: “it’s so fluffy!”

Song: Stars - Skillet

A/N: Me: I have so many wips. I should work on those.

Also me: I HAVE THIS IDEA I MUST DOCUMENT IMMEDIATELY AT 11:30PM

I was a little torn on this one. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have this be Rex or Fives. Went with Rex because when I started writing it just felt more like him for some reason. Also I’ve not written Rex yet and it was fun to switch it up, since I have a Fives fic I am working on already. Also this was NOT proofread. Literally on night 3 of insomnia and I just word vomited into a doc and then posted.

——————-

The deepest depths, the darkest nights; Can’t separate, can’t keep me from your sight

Another mission. Another nightfall where Rex was on the battlefield, surrounded by fear, pain, and death. And all he could think about was you in this brief moment of calm. He closed his eyes and you were in his sight once again, even if only in his mind’s eye. Your smile, so tender and bright. You shone like the twin suns of Tatooine. That same smile made your eyes sparkle like the sun reflecting off the waters of Naboo. And in this darkness and the depths of his sadness, thinking, dreaming of you and your incandescent beauty kept him going. Because he would come home to you.

I get so lost, forget my way; but still you love and you don’t forget my name

Just a number. Cannon fodder. That’s what he’d been trained to believe. Follow orders. Be a good soldier. Maybe you’ll live to fight another day. But you? You’d remembered his name. He’d only told you once. It happened when you’d accidentally bumped into him in that hole in the wall cafe on Coruscant. Spilled his caf everywhere. You apologized, flustered and positively breathtaking, according to him. “I’m so sorry. Let me buy you a new caf,” you paused and glanced at his cup looking for his name. “Rex. My name is Rex.” “Of course, Rex. I like that by the way.” He couldn’t hide the surprised grin that overtook his face. The next time he saw you in that same cafe, you greeted him. By name. He’d only told you once. Several rotations had passed. And here you were smiling and calling his name. He didn’t think he’d ever loved the sound of his name as much as he did when you said it that day. He still felt that way. When he loses his way, doubts himself, feels expendable, like nothing more than a number, all you have to do is say his name and it brings him back. He kept coming back after that day. He wanted to see you again. Little did he know you were doing the same.

You never forgot his name, and you never will. You promised him that.

If you can hold the stars in place you can hold my heart the same

He’d finally gathered the courage to ask you out. The two of you lost track of time and it was late when he escorted you back to your apartment. You’d gone on a long ramble about loving the night and the stars as you walked hand in hand. He was certain you’d hung the stars, absolutely no questions asked. Right there on that first date he wanted to give you his heart. Instead he left you with a sweet first kiss. He knew that night he would give you his heart completely eventually.

Whenever I fall away whenever I start to break

You were his safety when he broke for his lost brothers. When he was tired of the war. When he was tired. You held him, imbuing your love through your touch. You let him break. You let him feel. You let him release everything he’d held in for the days, weeks, months he was away from you. Even when he pulled away, you were patient. You waited for him to find his way back, because he always did. And he apologized. You welcomed him back every time with open arms and an abundance of kisses.

If you can calm the raging sea you can calm the storm in me

You were his refuge. You calmed every storm that raged within him. Every nightmare that left him drenched in sweat or the night terrors that had him thrashing and screaming the names of his brothers, you were there. You held him. Your soft whispers, gentle strokes of his buzzed blonde hair, rubbing his arms, his back until he settled back to sleep or he woke up, they all grounded him. You didn’t know it but he remembered every time. The first time he was so worried he’d scared you away. When you reached for him instead, he collapsed into your arms, knowing he was finally safe.

So here I am lifting up my heart to the one who holds the stars

And now, he’s finally home. Rex is standing at the door, bucket tucked under his arm and rehearsing the words before punching the door activation pad. You’re surprised. He wasn’t due home for another few rotations. You can’t stop the happy tears as you run to him and leap into his arms. You pepper his face with the kisses he has so desperately missed and he laughs. “Mesh’la,” he pauses for only a heartbeat, pulling you tighter into his arms, “I’ve missed you. My cyar’ika, my sweet, my everything. Have I ever told you I’m positive you hold the stars in the sky?” You press your forehead to his, crinkling your nose as you smile the most sincerely since he was home last. He closes his eyes and breathes you in before continuing, “I love you.” You pull back shocked, he’d never said it before. Now he’s here, lifting his heart to you, the one he believes holds the stars. “Rex,” you sigh dreamily, “I love you too.”

[wishfulwithwine]

Twin Flames : Chapter Six

Eris Vanserra x Archeron Sister Reader

“You are a peace and a flame, you steady me and stir me all at once” - butterflies rising

“I don’t want to just love you.  I want our souls to merge and burn brighter  than any star found in this universe”  - Lola Lawrence

The youngest Archeron sister, loved and protected by all her sisters and the Inner Circle, is mated to the hated heir of the Autumn Court. Will they find peace, or burn in the flames?

Warnings: series will have cursing, smut, violence, ptsd, alcohol, and other possible triggers. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF MINOR. 18+ ONLY

Series Masterlist

(photo from @octobers-veryown​ )

All you could do was wait and pace. Wait and sit. Wait and read. Wait and cook. Wait and read.

It felt like time was on a never ending loop of waiting.

As soon as your “mating week” with Eris ended - a passionate, exhausting, love-filled week - Eris was pulled immediately with his father and brothers for the war with Hybern. The immediate aloneness after such an affectionate week was harsh on your emotions. A complete whiplash of feelings, and still new to Autumn Court, you were grateful that at least the Lady of Autumn, Serah, was a comforting presence and wished to know as much as she could about the woman who married her son. 

Everyday since Eris left for the war, he’d pull on your bond as many times as he could to make sure you were ok. Temporarily, you moved into the castle with her, to keep her company as well as it was the safest for both of you. 

It also helped ease your fears, when he pulled on the bond, so you know he was alive. You’d tell him you loved him, and send your warmth and love through the bond. The heightened emotions of the mating week to not seeing your husband at all had your heart anxiously awaiting his return. Your feelings sometimes felt like they were in a blender, attempting to be patient.

He could feel your worry sometimes, a slight twinge on the outer edges of your feelings. He was ready to go home, but Eris couldn’t… until it was over.

“How are you feeling today?” Serah, the Lady of Autumn asked, coming into the library where you sat on one of the chairs, snuggled under a thick blanket and a book. You smiled at her, as she sat down on the couch next to you. A servant followed her, carrying a tray of tea and some cinnamon treats. 

“Better. Can’t wait till Eris gets back though. How are you?” You replied, as the servant poured each of you a cup of tea. You eagerly accepted the warm drink, accepting the comfort of the little things.

“Good, although I can only imagine your feelings. Separated just after mating week with your mate? How many times has my son pulled on your bond?” She joked, and you giggled. 

“I lose track, but it’s comforting knowing he’s still alive, especially since I can’t be there with him” You said, and she nodded.

“Yes, but from what some of the letters I’ve received, they all should be home shortly. You must be excited to tell him, or have you already?” Serah said, with a twinkle in her eye, shifting her eyes to your belly.

“Y/N! Are you alright in there?” Serah asked, after you had sprinted to the bathroom in the middle of eating.

“I’m - * barf * I’ll be fine” You said, clutching the bowl as you prayed the nausea to go away. Your side of the bond was closed off, making sure Eris wouldn’t feel your sickness.

“This is the third day of this. I’m getting our healer” Serah said concerned, bringing you to a couch when you were able to leave the restroom. You nodded, in no shape to argue with your mother-in-law.

“Hello, Mrs. Vanserra. I hear you’re feeling nauseous for a few days now?” The healer, Ygritte, said, as she came and analyzed your body with her magic.

“Please, call me Y/N. Yes, dizzy and light headed too, but I just figured that was because of the stress with Eris being away so quickly after mating” You said, as Serah stood close by, watching Ygritte.There wasn’t anyone else in the room, but there were guards outside the door. 

“Well, it’s not a stomach bug or bad food, it seems like. You seem very healthy… oh. Oh! Congratulations, Y/N. You’re pregnant” Ygritte said with a smile.

“No, I want to tell him in person. I just wish I knew when he was coming so I could make something to announce to him with, like the Autumn Court pie. Or buy some little baby clothes to tell him” You said, rubbing your belly.

“Oh that would be precious! We can definitely make the pie for him when we get home, but the shopping will have to wait. When I was pregnant with Eris, Beron and I found out together. We were trying and I was visiting Ygritte everyday to see. Beron was very excited to start having a family” Serah said, and you could tell with the way parts of her face pinched, that she was trying to tell the happy version of the story. Without Beron here, Serah expressed herself more. You could feel her be more comfortable in the surroundings, despite living here for hundreds of years.

“I always pictured being pregnant and how I would find out, and to be honest, I never pictured this” You chuckled, with a smile.

“I forget that you are not originally fae. I understand the… process… was terrible, do you miss being a human?” Serah asked, and you shook your head.

“I don’t, honestly. I… I get nightmares often about what Hybern did to me, did to my sisters and I, but with Eris, all I’ve found is joy and happiness. I miss my sisters, but when we were human, we were so poor, I had two jobs, with less than hour or two between them to make some money so we could eat. It was… awful” You said, and Serah smiled.

“I had two sisters as well. I can only imagine how you feel being separated from them” Serah said, comfortingly, bringing her hand to cover yours.

“I love them, but this is my family now” You replied, and Serah squeezed your hand with a smile.

“Of course we are. I can’t believe I’ll be a grandmother” She said, smiling widely as she gazed at where your hands were placed on your stomach. 

The news of your pregnancy had brought her immense joy, and although you were waiting to tell more people until Eris came home, she whispered to you plans for them. Excited was an understatement - especially when she would talk about her plans for the parties and reconstruction of the castle.

“Lady of Autumn, Lady Y/N Vanserra, High Lord Beron and sons are on their way home” the guard announced, and your smile brightened. Serah’s flickered with a small bit of happiness - although she wasn’t thrilled her husband was coming back, she was happy her son would be able to hear the news.

“Well it seems that there is no time to prepare” You giggled, squeezing her hand softly as she chuckled.

“No, but Eris will be happy nonetheless” Serah said, smiling.

“Y/N, my wife” Beron said, greeting both of you as the Vanserra boys winnowed into the library.

You smiled graciously, curtsying properly to the High Lord. 

“I will see you all for dinner in a few hours” Beron stated, looking at the boys who all looked like they needed a shower quickly. You could feel the growing frustration to be close to you down the bond from Eris, itching to hold you in his arms, and as soon as Beron walked out of the room with Serah, he winnowed the two of you to your home.

“My love, I’ve missed you” Eris groaned, slotting his lips against yours as he pressed his body firmly against yours.

“I’ve missed you too” You whimpered out, as his hips ground against yours. His hands were warm, as they held out tight, feeling your silhouette. He gripped your hips, anchoring himself to you desperately.

He burned your dress, not in flames but burned it just so that it became ashes and fell of your skin. His clothes fell off in ashes as well, and without even looking at your body,Eris quickly maneuvered the two of you to the bed, his lips attached to yours. The smell of both of your arousal permeated thickly through the air, and your body fell drunk off the lust.

“Eris, Eris, wait my love” You said, pushing him slightly away from you. Confused, but respectful, he pulled away, looking into your eyes, concern written across his face. 

“Is everything ok? Too much?” He asked, looking at your body if he had harmed you in some way while moving the pair of you to the bed.

“No, my love. Just - I love you, Eris Vanserra. And you might have to be a bit gentler, now that our love has created something” You said, trying to say it without giving it away immediately. You knew how smart Eris was, but right now, he was confused, cocking his head with an eyebrow raise.

“What? We created something?” Eris asked, and although you tried not to, your mouth let out a giggle. You put your hand over his hand, before moving his hand to your slightly swollen belly. He looked down, seeing the littlest of bumps, and then looked at you shocked.

“We’re - we’re - baby?” He said, stuttering in disbelief.

Eris couldn’t believe he didn’t notice it before, with the belly being swollen underneath his hands and you - you were glowing. Your breasts are a bit larger, and your smell - the smell of your was different, spicier just like his own.

He sank to his knees, placing both hands on your belly, and kissed it, before staring at it blatantly. You could only smile widely, as he kept kissing it. You could feel the indescribable amount of joy and love through your bond, as it all but radiated Eris’ amazement.

“You, my little flame, love of my life, my mate - I thought I was the happiest man alive before but this - this, I - I love you. You are the most incredible person in my life” Eris asked, looking up at you, his eyes filling with tears. You reached down, wiping away his tears although your eyes were watering heavily as well. 

“I love you, husband” You said, when he stood and kissed him passionately.

“Are you okay to do this?” He asked, concerned now. You chuckled, nodding your head.

“Please, husband, I’ve been waiting for you for so long” You said, and Eris smirked.

“Well, I’d be a terrible husband if I’ve kept my perfect wife waiting any longer” He said, before devouring your lips. His large hands held on to your hips as he brought you flush against his body, allowing you to feel every muscle of his body as his clothes finally came off. His thick cock pressed into your belly, and your hips moved into his to alleviate the ache you were beginning to feel, aching for more of Eris’ touch.

“My good girl, I feel how eager you are. My sweet good girl” Eris whispered, as his lips travelled down your jaw to sucking on your neck, leaving a bruise on your soft skin. He leaned you back against the bed, moving his body between your legs, as he massaged your breast and inner thighs. 

“Eris,” You moaned, pulling gently on his hair.

“Alright, my love. I’m impatient too. I’ve thought about this all the time, trying to get back to you sooner” He said, as he lifted your leg onto his hip as his fingers slid through your folds, already wet from anticipation. 

“You’re already wet for me, my love? I bet you taste even sweeter. Next time, I promise, but I just need to be inside of you” He said, trying to loosen you up with his fingers before the tip of his cock began pushing inside of you, much gentler than he usually did.

You let out a moan, whimpering as your legs wrapped around his waist.

He smirked, looking at where the two of you connected, and thrust inside of you.

“Baby, you’re even tighter. I - you look even better, my flame. Mine. I’m going to keep you knocked up - you like that don’t you?” He asked, teasingly as he felt you squeeze him. “Yea, pump you full of my babies? Gods, thank you for gifting me you for the mother of my kids” He groaned, as you squeezed him, trying to milk his cock.

Your hips tried to meet his, to urge him to go faster, but it seemed Eris got the message, speeding up the pace as he leaned forward, his breath caressing your neck.

“I’m- I’m” You started to say, as you moaned.

“I got you, my little flame. I’m right behind you” He said, breathless, as you shattered underneath him. Your orgasm triggered his, and soon, you were both breathless, laying next to each other on the bed, your limbs entangled with one another.

Eris turned on his side, looking at you, as he tried to memorize his view: you, glowing with pregnancy and post-orgasmic haze, your hair thrown about in a crown around you, cheeks flushed and lips parted.

You felt his stare and turned to face him, as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Let’s go take a bath, my love” You said, before he kissed your lips and helped you out of the bed and towards the bathroom.

Your poured your usual oils, and waited for the bath to fill with hot water, as your husband attached himself to your back, resting his hands on your belly. 

You had gotten better at the bath tub - although while Eris was away, you took colder ones to avoid any memory of the incident. 

When it was ready, Eris got in first - as was routine with you two now, and reached for your hand to help you sit in front of him, your back to his chest. He gathered the water in his hands, and helped wash you before you turned around, ready to do the same to him.

“Eris” You sighed, looking at the bruises scattered across his body. Without even thinking, your hand began to glow as you tried to help.

“Y/N, stop. I don’t want it to hurt the baby. This is nothing serious” Eris said, holding your wrists as he forced his hands away from his body. You nodded, reluctantly, and then washed him.

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