#IT IS ALWAYS IMPORTANT TO BE CRITICAL OF THINGS THAT HAVE CROSSED OVER TO THE -ISMs & -PHOBIAs

[booklovingturtle]

It's okay to not be hyper-critical of every piece of media

I love to microanalyze fandoms and media that I engage with. I think that it's an important skill to practice before investing loads of personal time, emotional energy or financial support into a fandom or a piece of media

But sometimes I have to remind myself that I don't have to look for something to critique in everything I consume

It's okay to like something just bc of vibes, aesthetic, nostalgia, sentimental reasons, entertainment, etc

And if you're interested in a fandom just for fun and don't want to engage in the critical analysis you see online about it that's fine (to an extent of course)

If seeing something you feel very strongly about be broken-down to analyze online, you don't have to engage with that content. You don't have to respond or defend your opinion. You don't have to doom scroll through an anti- tag. You can just let others critique it on their corner of the internet while you lovingly engage with your side

It's okay to just like something to like it

[wandanatw0rld]

+18 | men&minor denied

beefy!natasha romanoff x pillowprincess!female reader x college!au

warnings: girlxgirl; Natasha being a boxer; biceps drives reader crazy, so biceps kink(?); semi-public sex; sex on Yelena's car; tattooed Natasha being a popular hot ass; reader being popular as well and Wanda her (platonic?) bestie; a little bit of agnst; smut; brief thigh riding (flashback); Natasha is head over heels about reader boobs and her skirts, supposed cheating, strap on use (r receaving); not proofread.

Just a heads up:

((a) ... - ... (a.))

It means that I'm going to post something about it soon

I guess that's it, have fun ;D

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

Natasha Romanoff is an asshole and you hate her with all of your being. That's what you're going to say to everyone, but in reality, you really miss her. Wanda lost the count of how many times did you two broke up and she was there to catch the pieces of your heart; sometimes it was just a small piece, but this time it's a big one. Being popular helpt a bit to forget about the red hair, but not fully since you see her on your class break.

You really liked Natasha, but appearly she liked other women and flirted with them.

On fridays, normally you have a party to go, but not this one, you need to study for finals and join Wanda at her dorm to do this together. You put the backpack strap on your shoulder, but before coming out of the class room, you give a final look in the mirror to check how you look. Hair falling on your back, strawberry lip gloss, light make up on the eyes, perfect as always, but the outfit is probably the most important part of you. Pleated skirt, long sleeve shirt under Natasha's favorite rock band t-shirt, The Marvels, and a your black boots. You know the outfit will drive Natasha insane and you love it.

Leaving the classroom, everyone is looking at you, the most popular girl in the college, good grades, polite and gentle, who see you at first will imediatelly thinks you are a shallow whore, but you're not. However, something that people envy about you, every girl, especially the one you hate the most, is that you date, after you, another popular student in the Avengers University.

Natasha Romanoff has even better grades than you, she is mostly quiet and nice, great at sports, loves boxing. She works at the gym next to campus, so many girls go there just because of her, you hate it, but makes the red hair really happy that people trust and follow her instructions.

You used to love seeing Natasha training, punching hard the bag, her tattoed muscles shining while she was sweating. Her biceps always turned you on, especially when you were doing your homework sitting on the corner, legs crossed, writing things down. Some brief moments, when you look at her and wanted being fucked so bad. And she did. She always did. Natasha never says no to her favorite girl.

(a) ...

"You're so hot in this skirt, Detka" Her fingers stretching you out, you're so wet that they keep slipping out.

"Nat- please... Mhmm... Fuck!" She bites the soft skin on your neck, her sweating body against yours makes you moan really loud. Natasha keeps pushing her digits into your pussy, letting a growl coming through her lips when your nails scratch deep her forearm while the orgasm hits you hard.

"So perfect, malyshka".

... (a.)

You washed your thoughts while walk through the hallways, nodding almost gracefully for some students greeting you, so immersed in your on courtesy that doesn't hear someone calling your name.

"Hey, wait" It's Clint, Natasha's best friend. He's carrying some books. "I've been calling your name like forever. Have you seen, Nat?" So she didn't tell him that you two broke up, Natasha tells him everything.

"No, why?" You didn't lie, really not seen her since that night.

"You know, the finals are coming and has two days that she doesn't come to class. She needs to study" Natasha Romanoff skipping classes, something really critical must happened. Having you two broken up before, she always attended classes. "Can you take these books to her? She is probably at the gym".

No I can't, cause we broke up. You wanted to say that, but instead, you just say:

"Ok, I'll take them" Clint leaves with a short wave and you call Wanda.

"I'm waiting for you" She hums.

"I'm gonna get late, Wands. Clint gave me some books to deliver to Natasha" Wanda rolled her eyes while separating some ingredients on her cabinet. "He said that she's skipping classes".

"You really broke her heart this time, honey" She laughs. You always knew that they both never get along, but never known why - actually you do, although prefer to ignore. "You're gonna get late cause you're gonna get laid" Wanda mocks.

"No, I'm not. Bye, love ya".

"Love ya". Wanda, goofly, smiles.

The gym is closed apparenlly, but just for cleaning or something else that you didn't bother to read. You entered, there's loud rock music and you're sure that's Natasha, The Marvels playing really loud. You know that she do this when mad, the last time was about her father, she was so angry that her punches almost fall apart the punching bag plus you had the most insane orgasm when she fucked you from behind in Steve's office.

(b) ...

"Malyshka, you're so good to me" Her nails digging on your waist, her hips bumping against your butt, strap sliding real smooth because of your soaked cunt. "So beautiful accepting everything for me" You feel her front on your back, teeth biting hard the skin on your ribs.

Natasha's fingers starts rubbing your needy bud.

"Nat... I'm gonna... Fuck!" You bite your hand, the small room insanely hot. People, who starts their activities at the gym, their voices on the other side of the door add another layer of lust.

"It's okay, pretty girl. You can cum on my cock" The walls tighten Natasha's cock, she grip your jaw very softly, way more different than what her hips are doing, turning you to face her, kiss feather-like, her tongue tangled on yours. You feels the nod in your stomach undoing.

"Oh God... Fuck!" Your teeth marked on the back of your hands.

... (b.)

Slowly, you went to the room. You were right, Natasha was angry, fists punching so hard that it's seems the whole world was shaking. Sweating and shining biceps made you moan in your mind. She sees you, then stops the music.

"Hi". You greet, Natasha analyzes you up and down, don't get to see it but her pupils has grownth in lust when she sees you in that skirt, it always worked to turn her on. You take a few steps closer, her red hair tied with a braid, she's wearing a top tank blue shirt, breasts beautifully together, cotton shorts. "Why aren't you going to classes?".

"Cause I didn't want to" She answered, cold and sharp.

"Clint asked me to bring you these" You show her books, steps getting closer, very carefully. "What's going on? You just do this when you're mad".

"I'm fine, thanks" She took the books from your hands.

"Okay. Bye" You turn your back to leave.

"Wait" Natasha licked her lips, the sweat make some strands of her hair stick on her cheeks and temples. "Yelena is coming".

"But you love your sister".

"I do, but not this weekend" You sat on the edge of the ring.

"Why?" Natasha's breath finally gets in order.

"She bringing her girlfriend to a double date" .

"Double date with- Oh" You understand, Natasha follows your action, sitting, being this close, you can smell the sweat mixed to her woody perfume, it drives you crazy.

"And my parents are coming too and I didn't tell anyone that we broke up" You look at her, arms cross, her tattooed biceps all sweat and firm, God you love her arms.

(c)...

"Malyshka, it tickles" your teeth dragging on her arms, fingers squeeze them while your hips start moving on her thigh.

"I can't helped. I love your arms" You find the right spot and then starting to move on that.

"Do you, detka?" She kisses your neck, her fingers on your waist, helping with friction on your needy bud.

"Fuck" Your nails scratching her forearms.

"Do you want to sit on my arms and make a mess on them?" You nod, her husky voice made you moan next to her ear. "That's what you want, pretty girl?"

"Yeah" Your moves are frantic, everything you could do is to imagine. "Oh God, I want".

"Yeah, I'm your God. Am I?" You just nod, rubbing more and more your pussy against her thigh, clit desperate to attention.

... (c.)

"I was thinking... Maybe you can pretend we're still together?" Natasha is very close now.

"Nat, I don't think is good idea".

"Please, I'll do anything" Her green limpid eyes never failed to make you crumble, especially when she needed something.

(d) ...

"Pretty please, malyshka" You're under her body, hands sat on her shoulders. "Just a little bit, I promise".

"Nat, it will hurt" Natasha would never do anything to harm you, but she needs your boobs so badly now. Just a tiny little bit, it won't kill.

"I'll be quick" You know that's a lie, when it comes to play with your breasts, Natasha is never quick. "You can even stay lying. Please...".

"Okay, but be carefull, you know they're sore".

"I will, detka" Natasha pull up your shirt, it's actually hers, but you love to use. Your nipples pinch in pain, being on your period, both of you not having sex for almost a whole week made Natasha really desperate, seeking for any opportunity to get physical. Not being allowed to touch your breasts, her favorite part of you, drives her crazy.

You moan in a mix of pain and relief when her tongue circled your left nipple.

"Nat..." She's smiling on your breast, caressing, torturing you. Natasha suck it, her thumbs on your stomach going slow, really slow. "Nat, we can't." You stop her hands.

"Don't worry, detka. I know what I'm doing" Her digits passing through the waistband of your underwear.

... (d.)

"If you do this for me, I'll promise to never ask anything to you" You look at her, green eyes still looking deep in your soul. "Pretty please, malyshka" You can smell her scent more and more closely.

"Please, don't call me that" Oh, but I will. Natasha knows exactly what turns you on. When her accent come real thick while she's fucking you, or in the middle of a fight and happened to curse someone. When she calls you 'detka' and even better 'malyshka', you know what these two words means and it's so sexy and smooth that it never failed to make you forget why were mad at her.

"Call you what, detka?".

"I hate you!" You hold your breath.

"No, you don't" Her fingers touch your thighs. "God, I love you in these skirts. Remember how easy it was to put my hands under" And she does, you close your eyes. "Oh... you hate me so much that your panties are this soak... Tsk... So pathetic, malyshka".

"No, you're pathetic" You get up, anger warming your ears up, hating that Natasha have this much effect on you. "You're an asshole, Natasha".

"I'm an asshole?!" Natasha imitates you, getting up. "You're the one who broke up with me".

"I broke up with you because you cheat on me with Maria".

"My god, you're so stupid. I didn't do anything, for the thousandth time, I have zero interest in her" Natasha's nails dig into her palms, you see the red lines in there. "I want you, why is that so hard to believe?".

"Everybody saw you two at Tony's party, Natasha. Or her mouth wasn't glued to your ear, huh?" You never act so insecure before, always knew what you wanted, what to do, but when Natasha came and made you feel like the most important woman in the world, you started to fear losing everything you both had and the red hair realize that she prefers to be with somebody else.

"She was acting like an idiot and I pushed her. I would never do something to hurt you, you know that".

"I don't know anything anymore, Natasha" You turn your back to her, collecting the backpack.

"Please, be my date tomorrow. I want to impress my dad" Natasha is desperate and you feel terrible, almost at least. "Pretty please, malyshka".

"Okay, but will be the last time we'll be together".

"Fine". Natasha's clench her jaw, she takes what she get.

(e)...

Natasha was in your dorm at eight, the exact time she texted you last night, Wanda was there to support you, they greeted each other seriously and strictly. You went to pick up your things, leaving the two women together at the tiny living room.

"If I see her cry after this dinner, I'll kill you, Romanoff" The now blonde, Natasha, smiled at Wanda.

"Oh, and let her just for you?" Wanda lose her composure just a little. "Nah, I don't think so, witch".

"I'm ready" . Wow. Is everything that Natasha Romanoff can think, the black dress glued on your body, curvy waist well molded by it, but clearly her favorite part of you, your breasts squeezed together, the black high heels wetting up her core. Correction: everything that Natasha can think is how much she wants to devour you.

The stopped car in front of the building is not hers, it's probably Yelena's, but you didn't bother to ask about it. Natasha always liked motorcycles.

"You've changed your hair" Noticing that made Natasha really happy, the blonde hair it's cut on her jaw line, you used to like the red hair, it brings a very 'don't fuck with me' vibes, but now she looks more powerful, plus that suit really fits her. You look her up and down and almost lose the track of what happened between you two, if it wasn't for that, you'll probably grab Natasha to a kiss, her strong hands bring you to her lap, then they go to your butt, squeezing, dipping her nails on it.

"Did you listen to anything that I said?" You both are in front of the fancy restaurant, Red Room, you never went there before, it makes you worried a bit. "Don't worry, my parents will pay".

... (e.)

You're walking alone, if it weren't for you not paying attention to the road on the way with Natasha, you'd probably know where you were going. The dinner was a disaster, Natasha's family and Kate probably think you're crazy or have a mental ill, it's cold and you don't have any idea of what neibourhood is it.

You're feeling terrible, the look in Natasha's face when you look for a confirmation about her mom and dad already knowing about you two made you feel really sad, the whole purpose of having that dinner was to make you both get back together. Thinking and thinking about it, you're more lost than before.

"Hi, cute thing. Are you lost?" A man in a circle formed by five men, asked you. "We can help you?"

"All of us" The other man says, he has a cigarette between his lips, his nails are filthy.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you". You press your arms onto your body.

"Oh don't be like that" The first guy comes to you, his hands touching your skin. "You're so cold. We can warm you up, baby".

"I said no, thanks" You pushed him.

"What a courageous whore, aren't you?" His hands try to grab your face.

"There you are!" You never loved to see Natasha on this night so much than you do now. "I told you to wait that I'd give you a ride. Oh, good evening, gentlemen" Knowing the blonde really well, she's just being polite, but deep down, Natasha wants to kill every men in that street, especially the one who touched you.

"Why don't you join us?" The man ask. You run from his grasp and entered the car.

"No, thanks. We're late to meet our friends. Maybe another day. Good night".

You're freezing and Natasha notices, so she closes the windows and puts her jacket over your shoulders, you grab the fabric staring at your feet. The silent is stranger, but at the same time it is not.

Starting to think about everything that happened, if it wasn't for Natasha you'll probably dead or worse, raped in some alley. You wanted to say 'thank you', but you're too afraid and confuse to do it. The car has stopped at your dorm building.

"Are you okay?" You nod. "Look, about the dinner, I'm-" But what Natasha was going to say has become unknown, your lips on hers, hand on her face while the other one unfastens your seat belt. Tasting her lips after days makes you really happy, you feel the arms circling your waist, trying to bring you close. Your nails scratch the side of her neck, red marks glissining, Natasha push her tongue into your mouth, you releasing her from the seat belt before climbing on her lap. The feeling of having her tongue trapping yours made you moan, wanting more. You can feel the thightness on her pants, she's wearing a strap. God, she is. You push her, hair and lipstick all messy, she is a mount of huff and puffs. "You didn't let me finish".

"I love you too" Your hands captured her face, her beautiful and pierced green eyes are shining, but there's no tears. "I'm sorry for everything, Nat".

"I'm sorry too" She rests her forehead on yours. "I don't want to be apart from you, ever. It sucks had to look at you and not able to talk or touch" Her hands stroke your hair to the back, on your ears. "I want you to be mine".

"Then make me yours" Her eyes are all black, there is no hint of green on them, you pass to the backseat, Natasha does the same. You take off her blazer, hands all sloppy on the white shirt, pop up the buttons, then throw it anywhere. You kiss her jaw line, chin, bite the skin while she smiles at you, going down to her neck, sucking, marking her, your on way to make Natasha yours. Hands unbuckling her pants, strap bulge against your needy cunt. "Nat, kiss me" you don't have to say twice, she kisses you, it's more urgent, breathless, her hands pulling your dress to your waist, the top following it.

"Your breasts are amazing". She grabbed them, pulling together, thumbs circling your nipples, getting hard. Natasha's eyes are shining in adoration, she could watch you forever.

"Nat, just fuck me" You pull her close, tongue licking her upper lip really slow, the action made Natasha moan, desperately taking her pants off and throwing with the shirt. After unbuckling her bra, your fingertips touch every tattoo that the blond hair has in her shoulders, torso, her pierced nipple getting hard while you slightly pinch them.

"Alright, detka" Pulling your panties off your body, she slightly rubs your clit, feeling your wet pussy and then positioned the strap on your entrance, slowly pushing through your folders, her hands resting on your waist.

"Slow..." You softly pushed by her waist bone, it hurts a little, it's been a while since you used the strap, your legs trapping her waist, high heels landed on her ass, throwing your head back while her lips sucks your right nipple. "Nat... Oh f-fuck!" Your nails dig into the back of her head, grabbing the short blonde hair, while hers on your waist. It hurts like hell.

"God, I'd give anything to feeling you tight around me" You bring her to a kiss, her strap starting to hit your soft spot. "I love you. Fuck!" Her thrusts make the car shakes, you bite your lips. "Don't worry, detka. Let me hear your moans, please".

And you do, it's enough to improve her movements, her face in the crook of your neck.

"You're so perfect" Her teeth bite the skin there, she snifs your scent then licks your neck, marking, thumb rubbing your needy bud. "I'm making you mine. All mine. Just mine" Natasha starts to curse in russian, that turned you on even more, you need to learn it, anything to know what's she's saying. Holding her face in your hands, you kiss her again, slow and passionately. Her thumb moving on your clit, nails scratching her shoulders to her lower back, hips moving on her hand, Natasha look down on her cock, your cunt beautifully taking it, she growls on your ear. "You should see this, pretty girl. The way your pussy is taking me". It drives you to insanity.

"Nat... I'm gonna... Fuck" You bite her shoulder, coming down in a painfull and wet way, teeth dipping into her arm, nails in her forearm.

"Hold it, just a bit. I'm coming too" Her thrusts are sloppy, the strap coming off your folders, you need to help her, so your thumb touch her needy clit. "Shit!" It's everything that she can think now.

You came together, her mouth against yours, sharing a messy kiss. Her hips stopping gradually, forehead on your shoulder.

"You were perfect, malyshka" You're breathless, sweating, your hair is a mess.

"Nat, I need to help you. You didn't cum" Natasha sweet smile at you, thankful.

"You don't have to, detka" She kisses your cheek. "I'm alright, don't worry".

"Nat... I'm hungry" You didn't eat anything at the dinner and you're always hungry after sex, Natasha remember all the time to leave some snacks for both of you on her headboard.

"I know, detka. Let me just get myself together".

You both put back your clothes, sharing affectionate smiles, but you wear her jacket now, Natasha smile at you, really happy when your eyes meet the cheeseburger and milkshake in front of you.

"So good".

"I bet it is, malyshka". Her hands stroke your hair behind your ears.

"Your family hates me" You realize while drink a sip of strawberry milkshake.

"No, they don't. Was my father idea to arrange that dinner and try to makes us be together again" Natasha shyly smiles. "My mom say that the only good ideas he had in his entire life was to marry her and coming to America" She laughs.

"Yelena and Kate? My God, they think I'm crazy". Eyes wide open while you wipe your mouth.

"No they don't, but Kate will definitely win twenty bucks".

"Why?" You ask finishing your burger, Natasha seems ashamed to answer, but she does.

"They bet we'll have sex in Yelena's car" You're shocked, your mouth is a perfect 'o', cheeks all red and hot.

"Make her lose".

"Why?" you slap Natasha's arm.

"Because it's your sister's car, Natasha" Hidding your face between your hands, you whine. "It's so embarrasing".

"Come on, detka... We had sex planty of times in Steve's office and Professor Carter class room".

"Oh God!".

"Exactly, you said that everytime".

"Stop!".

"I'm sorry" She laughs again. God, she missed being like this with you.

"I'm breaking up with you again" you said embarrased.

"No, please. I'll stop". She kisses your cheek. "No more jokes".

"Thanks". You snuggle on her body, yawning.

"Okay, let's take you home" Natasha grabs a few dollar bills in her wallet and put it on the table.

"Can I sleep with you?" You ask, shyly.

"Of course you can, malyshka".

You both go to Natasha's place, her parents gave to her as gift for entering the college, living all alone, she invites you to live there many times, but always dismissed her. It's warm and quiet, she take off her shoes and you do the same, following her like a little duck and she thinks is adorable.

"Do you wanna take a bath?" You denied, her hands on your hips, while yours play with her blonde hair.

"I just want to get some sleep" You hug her, inhale her scent. "I liked your hair".

"It was Yelena's idea, she said that I had to change to have you back" Lips pressed on her collarbone, her skin so soft and warm. "But I liked my red hair though" You squeezed her, hands passing through her blazer. "I'm happy with your approval". They find a place on her small back, your lips still marking her skin. "Malyshka, it's hard to thinking with you doing this".

"It is?" You said it with a playful smile.

"Yeah". Pushing her, you laced your hands together, Natasha look at it with sweet smile.

"I'll stop then".

"Okay, let's change". Natasha bedroom is almost all white, except to the master wall, the one that the headboard of her bed is. It's a very soft pink, you wondered why she picks that color.

"Nat, why this wall is different from the others?" There's no better time to do it then now, at least you think. She look at you in a very softly and calm way, like when a child ask something really cute.

"Because remind me of you" It's simple, but made your cheeks get all red and warm. "When we were so busy during test weeks, tons of homework and I am really stressed cause we can't see each other properly, I remember of you, of your lip gloss" She is the one with red cheeks now. "It's stupid, but helps me relax".

"It's not stupid" You hold her face, pecking her cheek. "It's cute and I like it". She smiles at you, thankful, and then pull you until her closet.

"You left some clothes in here". You know that, but you're going to grab hers, anyways. "I'm gonna take a glass of water. I'll be right back, malyshka".

"Okay" Natasha leaves the room and it's enough for you to sneek around while putting her clothes. You choose another The Marvels t-shirt, taking off your dress in front of the mirror, there's marks everywhere, on your breasts, neck, Natasha's scretchs all over your waist, thank god is sunday, otherwise you'll have to wear make up.

After brushing your teeth, you snuggled into her bed, the pillows smells exactly like her.

"Sorry for taking so long, I had to comeback to Yelena's car. I forgot this" Your cheeks are red, crimson even, when you see the strap on her hand. "Are you sleepy?" You nod, she's bringing one glass, put it on the table next to bed. "I'm gonna change and then we'll sleep, okay malyshka?".

"Okay, babe". You said, smiling under the blankets.

"Babe? I can get used to that". She caress your nose with hers.

It took a few minutes until Natasha take off her clothes and brush her teeth, top tank shirt and undies. She comes next to you.

"My clothes, huh?".

"Smells like you" You said timid.

"And now, like you" she kisses your neck, hands on your waist, going down, a little bit more on your thighs, nothing sexual, she just loves to touch you. "I love you, malyshka".

"I love you too, babe" Natasha smiles, you strokes her blonde hair on her ears.

"Can you say it again?" .

"Say what? Babe?" .

"Yeah, but say that you love me".

"I love you... Babe" Smiling, she pulls you close, your face on the crook of her neck.

"Good night, malyshka".

"Good night, babe" Natasha chuckles, squeezing you on her arms.

Natasha Romanoff is a soft dork and you love her with all of your being, that's what you're gonna say to everyone from now on. And you'll never want to miss her again.

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

[pyreo]

handful more dunmeshi thoughts:

I like how their ability to cook is cumulative. they still have stock or leftovers from previous episodes making each meal more varied or better balanced, it honestly feels super enriching having solid evidence that their situation improves the more they experiment.

I like that the main party are immedaitely shown to be veterans of exploring this dungeon, and were fully expecting to comfortably handle the final boss. They're familiar with the layout and overall logic of the place, and how to co-exist as a diverse group.

I like that it's not horny. I mean yeah there's the dwarven upskirts but that just feels like realism. I know there's some kind of yuri bathroom thing but we've been told since episode one that is based on deep-seated emotions. what I mean is nobody is drawn sexily, nobody is getting gratuitous fanservice for no reason, nobody is lusting over other characters. there were even sirens and the opportunity was not taken to draw them like sexy temptresses. All things considered, they are in a work environment. I enjoy this, everybody has more important things to do.

It's based on dungeons and dragons/roguelikes/RPGs obviously, but in a loose method that doesn't get hung up on itself. Also the problems they solve are always realistic/a matter of pragmatism or efficiency rather than having to be more powerful than something else. solutions are based on critical thinking (good example - making a flail out of a vial of holy water because ghosts pass through the glass and get smacked by the water)

An extention of that, it's fun how much logistics and realism form the basis of their problems. Nothing is handwaved. The central dilemma is staying fed and that is a challenge. They can't cross a hall of water in a boat, because two of them wear heavy armour, and would sink. They do not even leave sightlines of each other without informing someone else where they're going, so the alarm will be raised if they don't come back. They're all capable in their own ways and this directly leads to solutions requiring group effort.

also look at these marcilles

[grandline-fics]

hi! could i request for mihawk and anyone else of your choice reacting to their usually modest s/o wearing something scandalous and getting a lot of attention and they feel jealous or try to hide them away from prying eyes? thanks love you

DESCRIPTION: You’re normally modest and get a lot of attention from others when you wear something scandalous

WARNINGS: a little suggestive but nothing explicit at the end

CHARACTERS: Mihawk

WORDS: 1,285

A/N: Thank you for this request! I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you enjoy what I came up with for it

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

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“Another gala, Crocodile?” Mihawk asked dryly looking at the small decorated piece of paper in his hand. “Is my presence truly necessary for this?” His golden eyes looked at the information blankly and held back the glare to see it would be taking place on the island they were at. Any other time these events were held, Mihawk would refuse to travel so far for a measly party or would take up a bounty mission that would take him in the opposite direction so he couldn’t attend. 

“Oh humour me for once, Mihawk.” Crocodile urged, frowning around his cigar. “I can’t keep bringing that liability of a figurehead. If we want to convince those nobles and backers of our legitimacy I need someone who can actually manoeuvre in these circles. If we want to see Cross Guild succeed and be profitable you’re going. You’re not getting out of it this time.” You bit back a smile to see your lover’s eye twitch. He hated going to these kinds of things. Quickly you acted, stepping behind his seat to place a hand on his shoulder and offer him a smile. “Oh come on, might actually be fun. At least this time you’re not going under Marine orders, it’ll be different. I can go with you if that makes things easier?”

At that Crocodile let out a small scoff, making you and Mihawk look at him in annoyance. The gala invitation was an open one so he couldn’t say you weren’t allowed to go but it was clear you going had irked him in some way which was odd seeing as you and the other founder of Cross Guild were on relatively good terms. You would’t say we was a close friend but he wasn’t someone you loathed. You remained silent as Crocodile stubbed out his cigar into the ashtray on the table and slowly looked you over, his scrutinising stare showing his critical assessment. “No offence, but you’d be more out of place than the clown. Like I said, we need to make a positive impression with these people.”

Your fingers flexed against Mihawk’s shoulder in a silent way of telling him not to react to Crocodile’s remarks. You were more than aware that your appearance was vastly different from his rich fabrics and perfectly tailored style. You’d always preferred simplistic and comfortable over anything else you wore. This wasn’t the first time someone pointed out your modest and almost drab fashion and it never bothered you. At least not until you felt you’d be letting Mihawk down. You knew how important Cross Guild was to him. Quickly you placed a kiss against Mihawk’s cheek and smiled at Crocodile as you left the room, if it was a positive impression he wanted, then that’s what he’d get. “I’ll meet you both at the gala.”

————

Mihawk hated having to interact with people he thought nothing of, he hated having to practically parade himself around in front of rich people like something to be gawked at in order to fulfil their own boring curiosities. He would much rather be in his own quarters with you, enjoying each others company and peace. Sharply he glared at Crocodile for what felt like the hundredth time today as he stepped into the banquet hall of the mansion the gala was being held in. While you’d shown no hint of annoyance for his earlier disrespect, Mihawk was still pissed and no amount of expensive wine was going to change that. 

As he took the glass of wine offered to him, he cast his gaze across the filled room in search of you. Though it was hard to search each face properly especially with the group that had already congregated near the centre of the room, fawning voices spilling from their mouths in a strange chorus. Mihawk and Crocodile shared a look of confusion, as far as they were both aware Cross Guild were the main attraction. While Mihawk was more than happy for someone else to take the attention, Crocodile was less than impressed. Then a familiar laugh sounded from the middle of the group making both men freeze.  

The pair watched as one person moved slightly and it gave them a window to clearly see you talking to the group, allowing the host of the gala lift your hand to press an adoring kiss against your knuckles. Mihawk remained the outward image of calm but inside he was a mess, looking you over intensely. Gone were your usual clothes of comfortable layers of soft and understated fabrics, in their place was the richest material adorning your form like a second skin coloured a deep wine red. Your outfit highlighted your body’s attributes that were usually hidden and accentuated the allure and attractiveness that previous only he was worthy of seeing. 

“Well…”Crocodile managed out with a firm clearing of his throat, even he was caught by your makeover. “Seems I was very wrong.” Mihawk snapped his head away from your direction to throw the fiercest glare yet at his business partner. Oh how he wished he had Yoru with him to slash all of your admirers in one go. Moving briskly he wove himself through the sea of pests buzzing around you and snaked an arm around your waist smoothly in greeting. Upon seeing who you were attending the gala with and felt the murderous aura rolling from his frame, those that had been desperately vying for your attention in the hopes of getting more, promptly became stuttering messes as they made hurried goodbyes and dispersed, scurrying away like the rats Mihawk knew them to be. 

“Hello, love.” You greeted with a pleasant smile. “Something wrong?”

“I despise seeing lesser beings try to sully works of art.”

“Aww, as sweet as that is just say you’re jealous.” You laughed softly, smiling up at him as you let him direct you smoothly away from the centre of the room and away from the appreciative stares you were still getting. “So, have I made a positive enough impression?”

“You know you have. You could wear anything and would be the most attractive person in the room.” Mihawk told you smoothly and you smirked. 

“Then why are you trying to hide me with the edge of your coat?” You asked, looking down to see the hand around your waist also held his coat around your body in an improvised shield. Mihawk didn’t answer. He lowered his gaze down to you once more, fully taking in just how much more enticing you were to him. He thought suffering this gala would be torture enough but to be here with you, looking so ravishing and drawing so much attention was unbearable, even for his resilient will. 

Acting quickly he pulled you close for a kiss and bit back the satisfied smirk when you flinched at the sudden feeling of the wine in his other hand spilled against your shoulder. You pulled back to throw him an accusatory stare while he merely set the now half-empty glass down on the tray of a server walking by and stared at you blankly, completely unapologetic. “Oh, how clumsy of me. Looks like we’ll have to go back and change.”

“You really are childish sometimes you know that?” You muttered with a slow roll of your eyes, walking with him towards the exit. 

“We’ll have to be careful.” Mihawk continued, ignoring your comment, his hand releasing his coat so he could drop his hand to your hip and give you a quick squeeze. “With material this expensive we’d have to make sure it’s taken care of properly. Could take all night.”

Well who were you to argue with that?

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

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[skzstannie]

“What about Ben?”

SKZ-> ot8 x 9th member fem! reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort wc: ~4,800 cw: reader has a panic attack and depression, Ben is ur lil bro

summary: your mom isn’t happy about your absence at your brother’s birthday party, but she takes her anger a step too far this time

A/N: Happy New Year everyone! I hope everyone has a blessed 2024! Part 2s for both the Felix and the Han fic are underway, so send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the tag list for either of them!

Happy Scrolling! | Masterlist

"Mom, you know I can't just up and leave! What are you expecting me to do?"

You find yourself having the same conversation with your parents time and time again- they want you to come home, you can't come home, then they give you the silent treatment for a period of time until they want you to come home for something else.

It's mentally exhausting, having to deal with their constant negative remarks towards you job. You only do it for your little brother; him growing up without you is not in the cards for you. In fact, that's what this argument you're having with your mom is about this time.

"I expect you to put your family first for once in your life!" your mother yells back. You flinch, pulling the phone away from your ear.

"Mom, you know I wouldn't miss Ben's birthday unless I absolutely have to. I want to be there for him, I really do!" your words do little to convince her as she already has her mind made up about the type of person you are.

"This has happened one too many times. Missing the occasional family gathering is one thing, but it’s your brother's birthday." Her disgust easily wafts through the speaker of your phone, and you bite your lip to keep from absolutely lashing out at her.

Your parents were never understanding of your job. They always expected you to just pack up your bags and fly home for the smallest of things.

Your baby cousin said her first words? "Why aren't you here?"

Your little brother lost another tooth? "Why would you want to miss this important milestone?"

Your grandma got a new dog? "What kind of heartless person denies their grandparents?"

Over and over, you've been criticized for your job. You give them the same explanation each time, as it's the truth.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I want to be there; I really really do. It's just that-"

"Always with the excuses. Ya know what? I'm tired of the excuses," she pauses and your breath hitches in your throat.

"Ma?" your voice is choked up, and you find your lip wobbling from where it's pulled between your mouth.

Your mother sighs, her disappointment evident. "We're done with the excuses, Y/N. If you can't be here for us, I don't think this is going to work out."

You swear your heart stops upon hearing her words. "What do you mean?" the laugh you let out is far from humorous. It's desperate. "How could it not work out? I'm your daughter, there's nothing to work out. You're supposed to love me and care for me, unconditionally."

"You've crossed the line too many times. Don't try to spin this around and make me the bad guy. This is completely your fault, you and those stupid boys."

Your parents could talk trash about you all they want, but you never let them get away with saying stuff about your boys. "You can belittle me, argue with me, call me every name in your book, but I will not let you talk about the guys like that. They're my family, too," your almost able to catch yourself, but you realize your mistake far too late.

"Oh, yea? Well, if those guys are your family, why not spend the rest of your time with them, too. It’s not like you weren’t already planning to anyway. Spend your holidays with them, your birthdays with them. He’ll, what do you even need us for?”

Tears well in your eyes, a mix of anger and fear swelling deep in your gut. "Mom, you know that's not what I meant." You’re completely choked up, your words coming out just above a whisper in volume.

You've had fights, but they never go as far as this. Usually, your mom would've hung up by now, leaving you with nothing but radio silence for months on end.

As toxic as this is, she's your mom. You couldn't live this life without her. She's toxic now, using your vulnerability against you every chance she gets, but she wasn't always that way.

She was once a loving mother, one who packed your lunch every morning for school, sending you off with a kiss on your cheek. A mom who'd pay extra to get more of your school pictures so she could put them on her desk at work and in her car. She used to show her love for you as any mother does, but you havent felt that in so long.

The last time you were home was a little over two months ago, and not once did she hug you, kiss you, or even touch you. She was cold and emotionless towards you.

You should've seen it coming. All this tension building up for months on end, it was going to have to bottom out eventually.

As much as the above is true, the words that flew out her mouth next shocked you beyond belief, causing the tears to flow freely from your waterline.

"Don't come back home, Y/N. I'm serious. You've done too much damage to my family." There’s a beeping on the other end of the phone, and it drops from your shaking hand to the carpeted floor beneath you.

Don't come back?

You were always sorry, apology after apology leaving your lips when you had to miss something your family organized. You thought it'd be okay. Your mom would get over herself eventually, and you'd come home when the company allowed you to.

You pick up the phone, hands a trembling mess, and call back, praying for another chance to explain yourself. You’re met with an automated message, the robotic voice piercing your ear.

"I'm sorry, this customer is unavailable."

You hang up and call again. She wouldn't have blocked you. It was just a silly fight, right?

"I'm sorry, this customer is-" you hang up before the message finishes, throwing your phone onto the floor next to you.

Your sobs become audible, and your body crumbles onto the floor, your knees thankful for the soft surface the carpet provides. Your fingers claw at the skin around your eyes, looking for a relief from the emotional pain coursing through your body.

Red lines mark your face, leaving the areas tender and puffy.

Your heart constricts in betrayal.

How could she?

She raised you, gave birth to you. How was it so easy for her?

The thought of your little brother enters your jumbled thoughts, and your heart breaks further.

He’s only six years old, and he is the best little brother you could ever ask for. He loves with all his heart, and you are lucky enough to get to experience it, to be apart of that little circle he could wrap his arms around and squeeze with all his might.

The thought of never squishing his chubby cheeks again destroys you, and you're unable to express the amount of heartache you're feeling.

So you scream.

You scream loud, your emotions ripping through your throat like shards of glass through skin.

You’re too distraught to notice the door to your bedroom whipping open. Chan and Minho stand there in the doorway, their eyes wide and mouths agape.

They've never seen you like this before. They've never seen anybody like this before, actually. Your screams are manic as they bounce off the walls around you, echoing around the room.

Once their shock dies off, they rush over to you. Minho is gentle in his grip but firm as he pries your hands away from your face. He gasps when he sees the damage your nails have already done, your once soft features now blotchy with angry red streaks.

You continue to scream, your nails now digging into Minho's arm. Chan grabs you from behind, doing his best to soothe you out of your hysteria.

"Y/N, you have to calm down. Please, it's ok, shhh," he says, his hold around you tight in an attempt to give you some sense of security.

"What happened? Can you talk to us?" you ignore Minho.

They accept that you're too worked up too answer them, and they let you finish your episode, the two of them doing everything they can to try and soothe you.

The rest of the guys in the dorm stand in the doorway now, your cries too agonizing for them to ignore. Varying degrees of shock are spread across their faces as they watch.

Chan starts to mumble sweet words to you as you come out of your panic attack, your brain finally able to register your surroundings again.

“It hurts,” you whimper, chest aching. “It’s so hard to breathe.”

"It's ok, we're here," he repeats, his head pressed up against the side of yours.

"Tell us five things you can see right now," Minho says from beside you, his grip still tight around your sweaty hands.

Your voice is scratchy, your throat red and scarred from your screams, but you oblige, knowing this will help you ground yourself. "I see my alarm clock," your eyes scan your room, landing on the bright digital clock you have sitting on your bedside table.

"Good," he hums, "What else?"

Your eyes travel to the door and you see the scared faces of the rest of your members. You lock in on Felix, his hands clenched tightly in front of him as salty tears stream down his face.

"I see Felix," you whisper, the pain from your throat becoming more and more noticeable.

He nods his head. "Good, now three more things. What else do you see?"

You look to your opened closet, your eyes catching the way your clothes spill out of your messy dresser onto your floor. "I see my favorite hoodie. I see my curtains, and I see that stain on my wall."

"Perfect, Y/N. Take a few deep breaths now." You breathe with Minho, your erratic breaths eventually matching his steady ones.

Finally calmed down enough, you slump back into Chan's hold, completely exhausted from the panic attack.

The room is silent for a moment, all the guys letting you have a second to gather your bearings.

"What happened?" Changbin steps through the rest of the members, settling next to the three of you on the floor. The rest follow suit, some sitting on your bed and some sitting beside Changbin.

"It's my mom again. I don't even know, I think she like, kicked me out? Like, kicked me out of the family?" You're almost embarrassed to explain the situation. You don't know why, maybe in fear your members will think your mom's right. That maybe you have been missing too many family functions, and that you should’ve made more time for them.

"Y/N, that's awful," hums of agreeance come throughout the room, and Hyunjin's words help to reassure you. "You don't deserve that, not one bit."

"She's completely out of line. Nothing you did warranted this at all," Seungmin chimes in. He knows thoughts of uncertainty are swirling through your head, the gaslighting from your mother turning your thoughts to mush.

"What about Ben?"

"What about him? You know your mom's full of shit, and the minute you show up at her doorstep she'll welcome you in. She's bluffing," Changbin pipes up again, his shoulders tight with anger.

"I don't think she is this time."

~ ~ ~

It's another day, and you've spent it the exact same way you spent the last five- curled up in your bed with the lights off, mindlessly scrolling through your phone.

Chan's come in to check on you periodically, but you’ve been alone for the most part.

The knock at your door alerts you from your sleepy state, and you call them in.

“Hey, I brought you some soup. Minho made it earlier today, and I figured you might be hungry,” Chan says, giving you a timid smile.

“Thanks, Chan, but I’m not really hungry right now. Can you just set it there?” You point to the little table you have at the end of your bed, “I’ll eat it later, I promise.”

Your phone starts to ring, and you gasp when you see who’s calling.

Dad

You pick up immediately, and you’re met with the distant yells of your parents. Confused, you ask, “Hello, Dad?”

“Sissy,” comes through. It’s Ben. His voice is small, and fear seeps through the speaker.

“Buddy, what’s wrong?” You keep your tears at bay, knowing you need to be strong for him. Chan sits down beside you when he hears the little voice you’re talking to, and he rubs your back in comfort.

“Mom and Dad are fighting again,” he sniffles, the microphone personifying every bit of his sadness. “I miss you, Sissy.”

“I miss you, more, buddy, but I don't think we're gonna be able to see each other for a while," you choke back sobs.

“But I miss you so much,” he’s crying harder now, and it’s hard to hold yourself together knowing he’s struggling like he is.

“I know, buddy, I know. I’m so sorry I missed your birthday, I couldn’t get a day off work,” you explain. Chan brings his finger up to your cheek, catching your tear before it’s able to fall from your cheek.

You hear Ben gasp, and your heart beat picks up. “Ben, is everything ok? What happened?”

“Mommy’s coming, and I have to go. She told me I couldn’t talk to you, but I stole Dad’s phone. Love you, sissy,” and he’s gone before you can even say it back.

Chan eventually leaves your side upon your request to be alone for a while. The soup beside your bed grows cold as your sadness overwhelms you once again.

~ ~ ~ "Alright, rise and shine!" you're awoken from your slumber by the bright light shining in from your window. You groan, throwing your pillow over your head to block the light. Your curtains hadn’t been opened in weeks, and you were planning on keeping it that way for as long as possible.

"Nope," the intruder says, ripping the pillow from off your face.

"We've allowed you to wallow in this room long enough. If we're not performing or doing an interview, you're laying in the dark in bed." Your eyes open, crusty and sore from the crying you did before falling asleep the night before.

Hyunjin's face paints your irises, his features full of determination.

"Time to get up." He throws your pillow back on the bed beside you, turning to walk out your door. "Oh, and pack a bag, we're flying somewhere today."

You shoot up in bed at that. "Nothing's on the schedule for today, so where are we going?”

‘Is it something I can get out of?’ is what you really want to say, but you keep it to yourself.

"It’s a surprise. Get up and get dressed, we leave in an hour," he finishes, closing the door behind him.

You slide out of bed, your limbs dragging your covers onto the floor. You don't bother picking them up, too tired to care about the messy appearance of your room.

You quickly get ready, throwing on a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. You pull your hair up into a ponytail, attempting to hide the grease that's accumulated over the past few days.

The ride to the airport is quiet and relatively peaceful. Everyone's happy to see you up and moving again, but the facade you've been putting on for the public has been washed away in your tired state, leaving your features drowsy. The dark circles under your eyes are prominent, your cheekbones sticking out more than usual. Your hair’s thinned a little, and your lips are cracked from your lack of hydration.

Through security and the rest of the way through the airport, you grip Jisung's arm, both of you needing the other's support in the overcrowded building.

Chan had explained to you that the managers wanted to start filming for the next SKZ Code a day early, fearing it might take longer than expected.

When you see the television next to your boarding terminal, your eyes practically bug out of your head.

Why would you be filming the next SKZ Code in your hometown?

That's the last place you want to go, your fight with your mom still fresh in your mind. You've been feeling the affects of it, her harsh words and actions sending you deep into a depressive episode.

Your members have noticed, trying their best to pull you from it, but nothing they did seem to work.

They can't begin to sympathize with you, none of them ever experiencing the kind of hurt you feel deep in your heart, wreaking havoc on your sanity. All they can do is offer you words of encouragement and love, assuring you that you still have a family, a very real one. While the nine of you may not be related by blood, the bond between all of you is strong.

They decided to take their efforts one step further, however, after seeing you begin to spiral. Your naps became longer and more frequent, often taking up most of the time you were supposed to be awake. You had been neglecting your self care routine, not even having enough energy to shower and brush your teeth most days.

Chan decided that enough is enough, so he convinced the managers to book you all a flight to your hometown to try and reconcile your family. As much as they wanted your mom out of your life, you were much more sane with her in it, and you needed your dad and your brother.

~ ~ ~

The flight was a success, everything going perfectly smooth.

You're now squished into the backseat of a car on the way to the house you'll all be staying at for the remainder of the filming.

The first thing you notice when pulling up into the driveway is how beautiful the house is. The front yard has the most angelic archways leading up to the house, with flowers lining the sidewalk and little statues spread about.

The house itself is amazing. Tall glass windows cover most of the front, the sunlight easily shining through, lighting up the front room.

The five of you- Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, I.N, and yourself- make your way into the house, and all of your previous worries disappear at the sight of the incredible interior. The walls are lined with expensive looking art, chandeliers hang from the tall ceilings, and the floors are marbled with white and gray.

Chan, Lee Know, Changbin, and Seungmin went to the store in the other van. They said they needed to pick up some last minute essentials for your stay.

Little did you know, they were actually going to your parents house. Their hopes were to get your mother to forgive you, or at least be civil so you could have a conversation with her.

Unfortunately, their visit did not go as planned, and it ended with your mother threatening to call the cops on them if they didn't leave the property immediately. This, of course, did not deter Lee Know from giving her a piece of his mind. His outburst was in Korean, and the insults he threw at her were so quick she'd never be able to recall them to look them up in a translator.

As much as they wanted to stay, to defend you and help you get your family back, they knew they couldn't. Getting law enforcement involved was the last thing they needed, knowing their managers would immediately regret sending them on this short getaway.

So, with that, they went back to the house with anger embedded in their hearts. They didn't want to have to tell you the real reason you all came here. They didn't know how you would react. Would you be thankful they tried to help? Would you feel betrayed that they'd went to your home without permission? They didn't know, but it was time to face the music; there was no SKZ Code to film, and they had no shopping bags in hand, so the truth was going to have to come out.

"Y/N," Chan sighs as he plops down next to you on the couch. You're both seated in the sunroom, looking out at the lake that sits in the backyard.

He gets your attention, and you slide your phone in your hoodie pocket, turning your body to face him. "What's up?"

He hates that he has to be the one to bring up your family again. You look so peaceful, your face no longer contorted with sorrow and pain like it'd been for weeks now, but he knows he has to tell you. It’s only fair to you. "So, please don't get mad, but this whole thing may or may not have been just a setup for you to see your family again."

Your heart beats out of your chest at the mention of seeing your family again. "Really, when can we go?" Your excitement radiates off of you, and you quickly stand to your feet.

Chan grabs ahold of your sleeve and gently guides you back down next to him, his eyes filled with pity. "Well, when we said we were going shopping earlier, we actually went to your house," he pauses, his eyes scanning your features; your face is blank, the excitement from seconds ago long gone. "Your mom wasn't exactly appreciative of our presence, and she kicked us out. Said she'd call the cops if we didn't leave. I'm so sorry, Y/N."

Your mind whirls with the information Chan just threw at you. "So, all of this," you gesture to your surroundings, "was for me? There's no SKZ Code?"

He shakes his head, his hand coming to rest on your arm, "No SKZ Code."

"And my mom still doesn't want to see me?"

He shakes his head again, slower this time. "I'm so sorry for doing this to you. I thought she'd be more open to talk to you, to us, but she wasn't. If I'd have known it'd end this way, I would've never done all this."

You sit there in silence, your gaze downcast. There's no sadness or anger in your heart, no tears welling up in your eyes. You expelled all the emotions you could over the past few weeks, and you've left yourself with nothing.

You stand, your only desire to go lay down on the plushy bed you found in one of the bedrooms when you were exploring earlier. As you walk away from Chan, he stops you.

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I can come with you?"

"No thank you, I'll be fine," your voice is robotic as you decline his offer. You make your way to the room, climbing up the stairs to the second floor.

You're out like a light as soon as your head hits the feathery pillow, the day’s events catching up to you all at once.

~ ~ ~

You're rudely awoken by the sound of your phone ringing. You pull it out from your pocket, your eyes squinting at the brightness.

Your eyes widen at the contact name that appears on the screen.

Dad

You quickly press the answer button, scared if you wait too long the opportunity will disappear quicker than it showed up.

Your dad had always been a follower. He's the youngest of four siblings, so it was instinctual for him to do what they did. When he married your mom, he had been the same way. Whatever your mom said went.

Your dad loved you and your brother so much, with all his heart, but when your mom started to act up, he became distant. He was never mean to you; he just stopped calling one day, stopped texting. You knew it was because of your mom; a part of you thought he was scared of her.

The last few times you'd gone home, the tension between them was almost unbearable, but your dad always rolled with it. Essentially, he was your mom's very own punching bag. You felt bad for him, but only he had the power to do something about it. You certainly didn't want to say anything. You were already walking on eggshells with her, the last thing you wanted to do was upset her more.

You bring the phone up to your ear, a shaky 'Hello?' leaving your overly chapped lips.

"Hi, sweetie. It's Dad," his voice is as shaky as yours, and he sounds choked up.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

"I can't do it anymore, Y/N. I cannot listen to her and let her treat you this way anymore."

Your heart breaks for him. All throughout your childhood they had been a happily married couple. The love they had for each other was immense.

"I'm getting a divorce, and I'm taking your brother with me."

Your heart is so conflicted. On one hand, this is the greatest news you've ever heard. You'll get your dad and brother back! On the other hand, you'd never wish divorce on anyone. While this experience would not be exceptionally hard for you, given your nonexistent relationship with your mom and the fact that you don't even live at home, it would certainly be hard for the people you love.

"After your band mates came and tried to talk some sense into your mother, it made me realize how blind I've been these past few years. She’s been so mean and cruel to you, and I just sat by and watched."

You don't know how your little brother will take it. Your mom has spoiled him with everything under the sun. This will surely devastate him.

Your dad, too, this can't be easy for him. You know it's not easy for him from the quiet sobs you hear on the other side of the phone.

You're not sure what to say as he continues to cry. "Dad-"

"Honey, please forgive me," he pleads, his voice cracking. "I've let your mom walk all over us for years now, and I'm so sorry."

"Dad, it's ok. It's not your fault."

He's quiet for a moment. "I have Ben at Grandma's house now. Can you come? He's crying so hard. It wasn't easy to leave, your mom put up a fight and was screaming. I think it scared him a bit."

"Yes, Dad, I will be there as soon as possible. I'm leaving now. Can you send me the address so I can give it to the driver?"

He sends the address and you hang up, promising you'll see him in just a few minutes.

You hurriedly put your shoes on and run down the stairs. All your members are sat in the living room, some video game lighting up the television.

"My dad’s getting a divorce, and he has my brother at my grandma's right now. I have to go see them," you quickly ramble out, looking in your purse to make sure you have everything.

The guys are stunned at your demeanor. They haven't seen you move with such determination in weeks.

"I'm coming with you," Chan says matter-of-factly, standing from the sofa to put his shoes on.

"Chan, you don't have-"

"I want to. I just want to make sure everything's alright," he sighs at the look you give him, your eyes boring into his. "I'll even stay in the car."

You roll your eyes at that, but you don't fight him. You suppose it doesn't really matter if he's there; you just want to see your family again.

~ ~ ~

One short car ride later and you're jumping out of the car, the seatbelt flinging back against the door. Your brother waits for you on the porch, the biggest smile gracing his lips.

You sprint at him, swinging him off his feet and embracing him tightly. "I've missed you sissy!" he cheers, his little arms wound tight around your neck. His tears have dried since your phone call with your dad, leaving little streaks down his cheeks.

"I've missed you more, Bubby," you tell him, thankful to have him in your arms again. Your eyes crinkle as your mouth splits into the biggest smile.

Your dad comes outside upon your arrival and wraps the two of you in a hug, giving you a tight squeeze. His eyes meet Chan's over your shoulder, who decided to step just outside of the car.

'Thank you,' your dad mouths to Chan, giving him a grateful smile.

‘Thank you’ for what? Chan wasn’t exactly sure. Bringing you to him? He’d do it a million times over. Taking care of you? He’d never let you struggle without him by your side.

Chan gives him a thumbs up in reply, just happy to see you happy again.

[knightjpg]

In the third picture of Brick by Brick, there’s a guy straddling a ladder and that has me crying bc that’s asking for a hospital visit😭😭

But it makes me think that if Simon were to get hurt on the job, reader would always be there at home to patch him up. He doesn’t always care if he’s not doing something the safest way, and reader is none the wiser about the OSHA guidelines, so he oftentimes comes home waiting for the gentle hands he associates with home to help fix him up.

I love the story so far and I can’t wait for more of your amazing writing!💕💕

"Do I need'ta carry you t'bed, love?"

Simon's large hands stroke over your shoulders, and for a moment you pause to lean back into his touch with a sigh.

"All knots, you are," and Simon presses into a tight, unhappy muscle along your neck. You let out a little yelp and twist your head to give him a half-hearted pout.

"Just a little more? I almost have it."

Simon hums, gaze sliding over to the pile of open books and notes scattered over your desk. "How long you been at it?"

...Guilty silence. You squirm in your chair. "Couple hours."

Simon just waits, though his hands don't stop rubbing soothing little circles into your skin that have you melting under his touch. After a long pause you finally confess, "Well--since I got home. But--"

Far too long, then, by Simon's standards. He bends down, one hand sliding over your shoulder and curling around your throat, fingers flexing against your pulse. He feels you swallow when he murmurs in your ear, "Think it's time f'you to be in bed with me."

You let out a breathless little laugh like you think he's joking, but there's no outright refusal, and Simon isn't going to wait around long enough to get one. He lifts you straight out of your chair into his arms, and you're taken aback enough to automatically cling to him in that way that makes his chest glow bright red.

"Hey--!" you huff. Simon turns and heads for the door. "I can--honey," you say, this time with a laugh. "I can walk, c'mon. Put me down."

"M'afraid I can't. Made me wait too long. Had t'take matters in my own hands."

He squeezes said hands to drive home his pun. A sweet giggle, and you rest your head against his shoulder. "You're silly."

"Not as silly as--" Simon cuts himself off, biting his tongue. The door to your bedroom is closed and his shoulder throbs when he tries to twist one of his arms, still holding you, to nudge the handle down.

He tries to hide his wince, but this close up you notice the tightening around his eyes right away. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Am I too heavy?"

"A feather," Simon says, and it's the truth, but when he tries for the handle again his jaw jumps.

"Baby, no. Put me down." This time you sound like you mean it, and Simon begrudgingly and carefully lowers your feet to the ground. His shoulder twinges again in unhappy relief.

You look him over critically, hands stroking his arms like you're trying to locate the source of his pain from touch alone. "Are you hurt? Talk to me."

Ahh. Once the missus finds out she'll be upset, he told Price when he offered to call. Wasn't a big thing, nothing worth interrupting your day for, and he figured it'd heal soon enough that telling you would make you worry more than was in any way necessary. And he was right, wasn't he? You look anxious, chewing at your lip, brows furrowed in worry. Simon lifts his hand--his left side, the good one--to brush your cheek.

"Just a bit of a strain," he tells you. "In m'shoulder. Nothin' important."

"Why didn't you tell me?" you frown. "Baby, I could have--" You gasp, fingers squeezing his arms. "I asked you to empty the rubbish today!"

"It's fine, didn't hurt."

"Please tell me you had someone look at it."

"'Course I did," Simon grumbles, feeling more and more like a child being chided because they didn't look both ways before crossing the road.

"And what'd they say?"

You're not being entirely fair here with those doe eyes, softening your voice like you would at a stray dog, but knowing it doesn't stop Simon from responding exactly how you want.

"Just have'ta take it easy for a bit," he says gruffly. "Price knows, won't be dragging 'round anything heavy for a while."

"Hmm." You purse your lips and turn the handle, tugging Simon into the bedroom. You point to the bed. "Sit, please. I'm getting you a cold compress. And tiger balm."

Simon watches you with a small smile while you fuss over him, directing him to strip and sit still while you apply the cream.

"Yes ma'am."

Might not be all bad seeing you worry over him once in a while.

[kiwriteswords]

hi! i love your hotch x shy!reader fics! and i was wondering if you could make an angsty fic about the reader n hotch like shy! reader made a mistake during a case and hotch is very protective over her? (like they get into an argument) and please a happy ending! thank you!

Hi!! Thank you!!! Thanks so much for requesting a short drabble! I hope this was what you were looking for!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader!

Word Count: 800

Rating: Everyone

TW: Canon-typical themes

The Weight of Mistakes

The air in the conference room felt stifling as the BAU team gathered around the table. They were mid-case, and things were tense, to say the least. The unsub was proving difficult to track, and time was slipping away. You had made a critical mistake — one that had cost the team precious hours. It had been a small oversight, but in a case like this, small mistakes were magnified tenfold.

You kept your eyes on the file in front of you, heart pounding, barely able to focus as Hotch gave his final instructions before sending the team out again. Your nerves were frayed, and you could feel the weight of his disappointment looming over you. Hotch was protective, fiercely so, but he was also firm when it came to the job.

As the meeting ended, you hurried out, hoping to avoid any confrontation. But you barely made it to the hallway before you heard his voice.

"Y/N, my office. Now."

You swallowed hard, nodding and following him. The walk to his office felt like an eternity, your stomach churning with anxiety. Once inside, Hotch closed the door softly, which somehow made it worse.

He stood by his desk, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "What happened today?"

Your voice was small, barely a whisper. "I—I didn't double-check the data, and I misread the location."

"That mistake nearly cost us a witness," Hotch said, his voice tight. "You know how important it is to be thorough."

The weight of his words felt like a punch to the gut. You nodded, tears threatening to well up in your eyes. You hated how small and insignificant you felt in moments like this. "I'm sorry," you murmured, barely able to meet his gaze. "I—I didn't mean to—"

"Y/N," Hotch interrupted, his tone softer now, but still firm. "You can't be this careless. Not in the field, not when lives are at stake."

You flinched, his words cutting deeper than you’d expected. You knew he was right, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Your insecurities swelled, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out.

"I’m sorry I’m not like the rest of you," you said, voice trembling. "I’m not as confident, or experienced, or… or perfect."

Hotch’s eyes softened, and he took a step toward you, his voice low. "Nobody's asking you to be perfect."

"But I keep messing up," you said, finally meeting his gaze. "And you... you’re always watching me, waiting for me to fail, and I hate it."

His brows furrowed, and for a moment, there was only silence between you. Then, unexpectedly, he stepped closer, closing the distance. "I’m not waiting for you to fail. I’m watching because I care. Because I know how much you push yourself."

You blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

Hotch sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’re harder on yourself than anyone else could ever be. And I see that. But today… today scared me. You could have been hurt."

It clicked then. The protectiveness in his tone, the frustration, the way he hovered when you were in the field — it wasn’t about your abilities. It was about him caring. A lot.

Your breath hitched. "I—I just don’t want to disappoint you."

Hotch's expression softened even more as he reached out, gently cupping your chin, lifting your gaze to his. "Y/N, you don’t disappoint me. Not ever. But you have to trust yourself. You’re part of this team for a reason."

You felt the tears welling up again, but this time, they weren’t from shame or guilt. They were from relief, from the overwhelming sense that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as inadequate as you thought.

Hotch’s thumb brushed your cheek, his touch surprisingly tender. "You made a mistake. We all do. But it’s how you move forward that matters."

You nodded, the tension slowly unraveling from your chest. "I’ll do better," you whispered.

"I know you will," he said, his voice low, almost soothing. Then, after a beat, he added, "But I’m still going to watch over you. I can’t help it."

A small smile tugged at your lips, and for the first time that day, you felt lighter. "I think I can live with that."

Hotch’s lips quirked up in a rare smile of his own, and before you knew it, he pulled you into a hug. It was brief but comforting, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

As you pulled away, he looked down at you, his expression soft but serious. "Just… don’t ever think you have to be perfect. You’re enough, Y/N. Always have been."

Your heart swelled at his words, and for the first time in a long while, you believed them. With Hotch at your side, you knew you’d be okay — mistakes and all.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos

[oleander-nin]

The Coldest Heart(Yandere Future Rise Donatello x Reader)

A/N, not important: Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Apocalypse, kidnapping, freezing, dark themes, yandere themes.

Words: 1291

Summary: Donnie cuts off the heat

Winters were always frigid in the apocalypse, the broken terrain and weather making the places that have never seen a snowflake now completely frozen over. The “snow” that covered the barren wasteland outside the base’s doors was a poisonous brown, bubbling when it touched the ground instead of sticking. It may be frozen, but it was nothing like the fluffy white snow you held dear in your memories. You shiver under the blankets you were given, your body curled up in a weak attempt to preserve the heat trapped under the blankets with you. You were exhausted, sleep pulling at your eyes and trying to coax you under, but the cold biting at your fingers and toes was unrelenting. Your ears and nose burned, keeping you alert as you try to keep out the frigid air. The small amount of heat Donnie allowed in his lab was gone, the furnace broken and vents turned off. Cold had seeped into every crack and was now trying its best to choke you out as well.

You turn your head towards Donnie as he types onto a monitor projected by his ninpo, sticking your face into the bitter cold. His outfit amazed you, the mutant only being dressed in a thin sweater made to stretch over his battle shell and sweats that were a size too small. You look at him in envy, not understanding how he could withstand the freezing temperature in the thin clothing he had. Donnie turns his head at the feeling of your boring gaze, his eyes meeting yours and his tridactyl hands leaving his keyboard which causes it to falter, then disappear. For the first time in the months since he had stuck you in his lab in claims of protecting you, you don’t break your gaze. Whether it was from exhaustion or the cold, you no longer cared about such a simple thing as keeping your eyes off the man you hated most. If he was truly upset with your staring, he could come and close your eyes himself.

“You’re shivering.” Donnie muses, his voice teasing and airy as if the frostbite creeping over your nose was a mere tasteless joke. You scowl, burying yourself back into the plethora of blankets that covered the cot Donnie had you share with him. You hear him chuckle at your childish display, driving in the belittled feeling he had sunk into your heart.

“Fix the heat then.” You grumble at your captor, not caring for niceties. You can hear his chair shift and you look back at him through a crack in the blankets, seeing his eyes averted downwards as he chews on his cheek. His knuckles are now digging into his teeth, his eyes looking everywhere but you as he seems to be debating himself over something. His shoulders are more hunched, like he was a little kid who got caught stealing cookies late at night.

“You know I can’t.” Donnie says, like he was trying to be firm but his voice falters. He still refuses to meet your eyes, only staring at the floor as he chews on his knuckles. Your eyes narrow, your knees pulled closer to your chest as another cold burst breaks through the blanket barrier.

“You’ve already fixed it.” You accuse, the chattering of your teeth breaking up the sentence and making it sound more pathetic than you hoped. Donnie finally pulls his fist away from his mouth as he stares back at you, crossing his arms and protesting with a loud, “indignant scoff.” If you could feel your feet, you would run over there and strangle him.

“If you’re cold,” Donnie starts, his voice tight as he dodges your accusation to try and quell your thoughts, but ends up confirming it instead. “You can grab a blanket and come sit with me. I’ll keep you warm.”

You sneer, diving back under the blanket den you had created around yourself. Even if you wanted to cuddle up to the person who was holding you hostage in the name of ‘safety’, you couldn’t. Your feet were so frozen you couldn’t feel them more than a dull pain, and your fingers couldn’t close around the thin material of the blankets anymore. Silence stretches through the lab, and you’re sure Donnie had given up and turned back around.

A quick padding of socked feet breaks the silence and two arms wrap around your covered self, lifting you from the cot and into Donnie’s arms. He mumbles a swift apology as you flail and curse, quickly moving back to his chair and depositing you in his lap. He shifts the blankets around, helping you pop your head out so you could see. Donnie cups your cheek with one hand, the other still firm around your lower back so you couldn’t squirm away from him and escape. The feeling of his hand on your face is one you always hated, but the burning head of his warmth makes you hiss in pain rather than disgust. He was an oven, his hand slowly heating your cheeks and bringing color back to your face. You melt into him after a minute, nearly crying when his warm hand leaves your cheek to cup your ears.

“You are cold.” He mutters, mostly to himself. He continues to try and warm you himself for a small while, attempting to bring your body temperature up from the dangerous levels it had fallen to. He eventually signs and gives up, summoning a projected screen with numerous switches and buttons. He clicks a few things before closing the screen and pulling you closer, easing open the blankets you clung to so he could pull your whole body against him and try to warm you up.

You hear the vents above slowly whirr to life, the room slowly being filled with a strong heat that makes your head spin. You blink at Donnie, your limbs unstiffening as you try not to cry.

“You fixed it…” You mumble, letting your head hit the dull point of his plastron. Donnie nods, rubbing your back beneath the blankets. Anger pools in your chest for only a moment, the relief of the heat taking over and the exhaustion pushing through once more.

“I fixed it within minutes of its breaking. I wasn’t going to let the base freeze.” Donnie pulls you closer, kissing your temple with a smug smile. “You, however, weren’t letting me touch you, so I turned off the heat to try and convince you to let me touch you more, but that seems to have backfired.”

You scowl, hitting his shoulder with your forehead. You wanted to scream, to bite him, to do anything to make him suffer like he had you for the past few days, but you don’t. You were terrified he would turn the heat back off. His lab was obviously able to be isolated from the other parts of the base, which horrified you. For all you knew, he could leave and seal the doors before shutting the oxygen off for a couple minutes, just to let you suffer.

Donnie continues to rub your back, his quiet humming not showing any bit of remorse for the torment he had put you through. He seemed happy with the outcome, and you figured he was. Here you were in his arms, just as he wanted. Maybe once you could feel your fingers again, you’d try and fight him, but for now, you had given up. The heat was too much of a reward for you to risk losing it now. Even Donnie’s arms were a price you were willing to pay to not freeze. His plan had worked, and now nothing would stop him from doing it again.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day seven: edging kink

>>> i can just see kento being such a punishing dom like i can't help it?? i really hope you guys r enjoying so far! this marks the first week of kinktober <3

>>> starring: kento nanami x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: uh edging probably, possessive nanami, jealous nanami, he hates gojo lmao, one pussy slap, creampie, punishment. >>> wc: 2.8k >>> event masterlist

the way other sorcerers talked about nanami pissed him off. they always spoke about how boring and strict he was, so plain and simple. sometimes they even went so far as to question how he even managed to score you in the first place, much less keep you satisfied. how much more could you insult a man? sure, he kept to himself. he enjoyed keeping his private life private, and there was no harm in that. he found little reward in wearing his heart on his sleeve or bearing all that was important to him out in the open, considering that you were probably the only thing in that category anyway. his friends from school should find themselves grateful they even know about you, but to criticize the way he loves you? that’s intolerable. 

if his friends or coworkers asked you about your relationship, you would gush for hours about how attentive he is, list all the ways he spoils you rotten, sing that you’re the luckiest girl in the world. not to mention your sex life, goodness—he was by far the best you’ve ever had. that’s the best part about a boring mask, looks can be oh so deceiving. nanami was insatiable, and he had so many different moods. he was skillful, tender, and loving always, but that comes across differently in missionary than it does with you bent over the kitchen counter, doesn’t it? your body just so happens to be the cure for all his ailments, any concerns or worries that plague him are usually abandoned once he crosses the threshold of his home to see your sweet smiling face happy to see him. 

keyword being usually. today was especially bad. gojo’s insufferable as always, but now he even has yuji questioning him about you. all planned by the special grade sorcerer, no doubt, but still grating on his last nerves, nonetheless. 

“i didn’t know you were dating l/n-sensei!” yuji says, walking alongside his favorite mentor. gojo trailed them, trying to contain his giggles as he watches nanami’s back straighten. 

he sighs, adjusting his glasses up his nose a bit. “yes. she is my partner.” he says, letting his eyes slide to the side to examine itadori’s perplexed expression. 

“but she’s so—” 

“youthful, exuberant, charming and fun?” gojo interrupts as yuji struggles to find the words to explain his sensei-induced-confusion. itadori nods vigorously. 

“yeah! and she just seems like the type to be adventurous! you guys make a funny pair i guess! i always thought l/n and gojo sensei would end up together!” yuji explains with his signature innocence, no idea how biting that sentence felt. meanwhile gojo just watched with a fiendishly satisfied smile, able to recognize the clenching of nanami’s jaw for the jealousy that it was. and yuji kept going. “they just seem so close! they always laugh at each other’s jokes and eat lunch together!” 

kento’s brow drew up to his hairline at that, the infamous swells of envy stabbing deep in his chest. “oh? i had no idea they were such good friends. you know they say opposites attract. i suppose my maturity is what attracts her to me.” 

he doesn’t fool anyone, not even himself. all he can think about is itadori’s words and the smug expression on gojo’s face when he looked at him. and as tender and loving as nanami is, nothing can calm the jealousy running through his veins. as soothing as your presence is, nothing can keep the anger off of his face when he enters his home. 

your grin dissipates at the sight of his stoic irritation, and you wonder what could have happened at work today to garner this level of rage. he watches as you rise from the couch, where you already have your favorite show to watch together queued and waiting for him, no understanding of why he watched you like a predator. your smile is hesitant now, because you can read him so well and can tell he’s pissed. you approach anyway, taking his coat off with a peck to his cheek. 

“rough day, my love?” you frown, hanging his coat on the hook. he debates on what to say in response. is he angry? of course. at you? moderately, but he knows it’s unreasonable. he knows you love him more than breathing, and he trusts you more than anyone on the planet. but, you also know better than anyone how much he disdains satoru gojo. he’s been a pain in his side since he can remember, and you have quite literally always known that. even in school, you would tease him over his annoyance over the sorcerer. it got worse whenever you started working at the school with gojo. nanami was sure the white-haired menace would flirt with you if only to get under his skin—not to mention the possibility of him actually wanting you for himself. but it wasn’t your fault. you couldn’t help the fact that you’re gorgeous and bubbly and wonderful and all those things gojo described you as. you also couldn’t help the fact that the special grade sorcerer was the only person around that could stir up nanami’s feelings of high school envy and inadequacy. 

but you can help him get control back. 

“go get in bed for me, darling.” he replies, the muscles in his jaw ticking with every passing second. he’s staring through you, in a mental place far away from here. you know better than to question that tone, and the heavy set of his brow coupled with the intensity swirling in his woodsy brown eyes has you nodding obediently. you walk towards your room, feeling his angry stare against your back the entire way. you wonder if this has something to do with you, given just how irritable your fiancé seems. still, you can’t deny the flicker of excitement shooting down your spine as you peel your clothes off. you can hear the click of his shoes approaching as you crawl rather provocatively onto the bed. 

“itadori tells me you and gojo-san are so very close.” he says as he leans against the door way. he thinks it’s so cute how you wiggle your ass a bit to try and get out of the trouble you know is coming. gojo is a sensitive subject, and though you can’t see his face, you can tell by the tone of his voice that he is indeed sensitive about it. a slight fear creeps through your veins, but it tickles a dark corner in your brain. 

“he’s mistaken.” you purr back easily, laying flat on your back to look at him. he’s absolutely brooding, those deep set brown eyes boring holes into yours. he’s roughly loosening his tie, a mockingly amused smile tugging at his tightly drawn lips. you look good enough to eat, and he certainly plans on it. your body is such a treat, all spread out with that deer in a headlights look on your face. he can’t wait to show you why gojo could never come close. 

his brows inch upwards as he slips his tie off and starts working on the buttons of his shirt. typically, that would be your job, but this all played into nanami’s game. you’re already sucking in a deep breath at the sight of his toned and tanned physique, his dark blue button-up falling in a pile on the floor. 

“is that so? gojo himself seemed amused by the notion.” he drawls, the smoothness of his deep tone so silken and even you almost forget the storm brewing in his gaze. you watch his deft hands move towards his belt, undoing it easily as he waits for your next rebuttal. 

“we’re coworkers.” you enforce, looking at him with such surprise in your eyes. you knew kento had his issues with gojo, but you never thought he would seriously doubt you. “don’t be ridiculous, darling, please. you know how much i love you.” 

“and you know how much i hate him.” he spits out in reply, dark clouds covering the room. you gulp in an effort to escape some of the tension, your mind caught in between genuine worry and the heat you feel licking up your body at his possessiveness. you’re struck silent by the weight in his voice, the near growl that comes out. he slides his pants and boxers down in the same push, his erection almost as angry as he is. your thighs start rubbing together automatically at the sight of him, he’s perfect. he’s  long and curved, his hair perfectly trimmed to accentuate his pretty length. “yet i’m told you eat lunch together every day.”

there’s that tone again, that gruff snarl at you for playing right into the special grade’s hands—he’s warned you about this, about gojo’s manipulation. you shake your head in an effort of apology as at last, he pulls his glasses off and sets them carefully on the desk slowly to torture you with the sight of his god-like body. 

“more like once a week–kento please, it’s not like that at all! we lesson plan! he’s just trying to get to you.” you assure, biting your lip to keep from pleading for his touch. you’ve been laying here neglected for ten minutes now, but begging could possibly only make it worse. 

“it’s working.” he grumbles, his hateful stare making the desire multiply in your gut. he was always so tender and caring, but you had a feeling he would be anything but tonight. he sits at the edge of the bed and you subconsciously spread even wider for him. he rests his hand on your shin, rubbing rough circles on the flesh. nanami had to remind himself that you were his, and clearly you needed the reminder too. he lays flat on his stomach, aggressively keeping your legs parted. “always laughing together, hm? i hope you find this humorous, then, my love.” 

you go to respond, to try and sing your innocence one last time, but your feisty lover’s wet tongue silences any protests as it glides through your folds to bump up against your nerve bundle. your legs jerk up a bit in surprise, but his harsh grip keeps them from reacting too violently. normally, between your legs is kento’s favorite place to be after a long day, the ambrosia taste of you was the cure to any and everything, even now, he moans out in satisfaction. this time though has a frenzy to it, his tongue flicking over your swelling clit as his fingers dig into the plush beneath him. he knows the grip will bruise, but he couldn’t be bothered to care all that much at the moment. 

your hands fly to his honey locks, the feeling of his teeth grazing your need skillfully had the knot in your stomach coming loose with every passing second. he’s making animalistic noises as he devours you, the air quickly filled with the sounds of your meek pants. it’s so cute how you rut your hips into his face, desperately trying to chase your high. you’ve always been this way, so addicted to the feeling of his mouth on your sex that your body can’t help but beg for more. he can tell by the sounds that you’re making that you’re close, and he can’t help but grin to himself. 

you tug on his hair a bit harder, your other hand fondling your chest. he’s hungry and rough as he nibbles and laps, and you know you won’t make it much longer. that is until he pulls away, looking stern when your eyes fly open to meet his. you’re pouting already, tugging his hair again. “baby, don’t be mean.” 

he chuckles darkly at the whining, shaking his head. he likely won’t respond either, all part of the torture. you frown even deeper if possible, so annoyed with gojo right now that you may quit your job altogether. 

“kento–” you chide, wanting to fight for your right to cum, but he interrupts you with a harsh slap to your cunt. it makes your body jolt forward and a little squeal tears out of your throat, the sweet pain making your mind a little dizzy. he sits up, tapping his length against your clit now. it still makes you jump a little every time, the hazy look in your eyes after just one denial was so sweet it almost had him rethinking the punishment altogether. “i’m sorry, he’s just my friend, i won’t even talk to him any—” 

he stuffs his cock into you all at once, the burn and surprise making you gasp instead of finishing your sentence. his jaw is still hard set as he puts your knees over his shoulders, not caring about the vicious angle he makes while lifting your hips off the bed. he doesn’t want to hear any apologies, he doesn’t want you to make any promises, he just wants you to be so marked up and unable to walk when you see gojo tomorrow that no one ever questions him again. he plants his foot on the bed and starts driving into you, brutal and quick. his need to claim is obvious, he can’t stand that smug look on his fucking face ever, but especially not in regards to his woman. 

you don’t even have the opportunity to scream, his pace so punishing you can’t form a thought to speak out anyway. it hurts so good, how heavy he feels inside you, the sting from him colliding with your cervix over and over until your eyes are scrunched closed in pleasure. your core burns again, your hole flutters around him so prettily he knows he’ll only be able to go through with this from sheer determination alone. he can tell you’re about to come undone again, the little pants coming from your lips and the way you claw at his forearms is all the evidence he needs. he draws out to the tip, stilling and watching with slight amusement as you whine and pout again, moving your hips in an effort to keep him going.

“so mean to me, baby..didn’t even do nothing, please!” you huff, frustrated with his relentless denial. he knows exactly how to drive you crazy, sending you spiraling quickly. perhaps this is what he needed, to control you utterly and completely, to make you plead for him. “please ken, just wanna feel good, just want my man to make me feel good, i’ll be so good for you, i promise, won’t even talk to him no more!” 

he chuckles a bit, thrusting back in to stop your stupid babbling, as cute as it was. and yes, the begging was a slight boost to his ego. besides, you’ve almost learned your lesson, and he’ll need to let you cum for it to really sink in. he fucks you like he hates you again, turning you to your side, folding one leg over the other to make you his own personal pretzel. it lets him hit so deep you’re almost scared your organs will take permanent damage. you can’t hold back your wails, colorful orbs dancing across your vision as you mindlessly scratch at the headboard in front of you. 

“if you want to cum at all, do it now.” he commands, the roughness in his voice may have been enough to bring on an orgasm all by itself, but you have no problem following his orders with the way he pounds you. you nod because it’s all you can bring yourself to do, squeezing down on him and coating him in all the pent up release you’ve been denied. he quietly groans, dick jumping until he covers your insides. 

“oh darling, you can talk to him. in fact, i want you to. tomorrow, i want you to waddle into the teacher’s lounge and answer all of his questions.”

[strangebiology]

I think a lot of the people in my life who have expressed disgust or disapproval of my interest in/collection of animal remains have come at it first from the perspective of "but diseases!" like regular uncleanliness stigma. the second most common reaction is that interest in/collection of/comfort with animal remains (to be clear, i collect bones and sometimes preserved tails or pelts and these are the objects in question) is... creepy? and, the people who are most disgusted/creeped out are usually people who by and large dont interact with wild animals or livestock. my friends who are vet techs or who hunt or who practice animal husbandry are more or less unfazed.

(Re: What are actual common attitudes towards animal remains?)

Interesting, thank you!

Now, I'm wondering if people mistake personal discomfort for immorality.

I've mentioned my one video that did get some negative comments, showing the slaughter of a reindeer (you can see it here but I have warnings on it for a reason! Blood and death!) And, I think 90% or so (I suppose I could go count them) are more reasonable.

First, people are mad at the assumption that I killed a reindeer (I did NOT kill it, I just filmed it.) Then, the issue is it's being killed for no reason (it was NOT no reason, it's for food.) Then the method is criticized (this is one of the ONLY legal ways to kill them and it's quicker than it looks because of post-mortem spasms.) Then, when those concerns are disproven, the only issue left is "filming and posting it is sadistic." So...killing was no problem, but showing anyone that their meat came from a death was a problem. (Again, I respect if you don't want to see it! So please heed the warnings unless your desire to know how reindeer are killed outweighs your discomfort with watching a death!)

I wonder if sometimes people are overly focused on prioritizing their own 5-second comfort over things that matter a lot more, but are external to them, and they don't really care about others who they are not currently looking in the face of at all.

This isn't a 100% relevant example, but consider the people who don't want to donate their organs after death. A common reason to forgo something that could save and improve lots of lives is "it sounds gross!" Ickiness really should not be a factor in whether or not to save lives--the donor will never see or feel it, but since it's not their own life being saved, the 5-second icky feeling when checking the "donor" box is suddenly more important than the saved and improved human lives.

I know I shouldn't think too hard about one random experience, but I will always remember this one. I was once at a consumer survey thing for a turkey meat brand, where participants tried the meat and said what we thought about the name, taste, packaging, branding etc. We were instructed to circle what we liked on the branding and cross out what we didn't like.

One participant crossed out the part where it said "humanely raised." I asked if she had made a mistake, or...does she feel like the label is disingenuous or something...? Surely she's pro-humane treatment of animals, right??

"No," she said. "I don't want them to do that. I don't want to think about their lives when I'm eating them, and they don't need to be humane to animals that are going to die anyway." Most of the group agreed. I couldn't help but point and say "YOU'RE gonna die anyway!"

That may have been the first time I encountered a group of people shamelessly agreeing that they would rather animals suffer unnecessarily than think for one second that the animal whose body they are using/eating was ever even alive. Because not feeling guilty about something was infinitely more important to them than any amount of suffering that someone else might experience.

[q4evze]

oh yeah baby we're so back (reposting old shit)

♡ sub!kaeya, fucking surprise

♡cw: alcohol, god!reader, u are the anemo archon, gn reader, penetrative sex but no parts mentioned on either end, sort of dacryphilia, general cosmic knowledge bullshit

♡a/n: if yk yk

“I think you’ve had a bit too much,” comes a flirtatious voice behind you. Though the first floor of the tavern is always crowded and cheerful, the second stays quiet enough for you to recognize the voice’s owner.

“What makes you say that?” you reply without turning around. The answer was obvious– empty glasses litter the table you’d claimed in the dim corner– but Kaeya wasn’t one for small talk. No, if he’d gone out of his way to find you, there was a more important reason.

Gloved hands press into the faded wood next to you, along with a glass that smells of Death After Noon, as the Captain leans over the table. “Rough day, was it?”

“I didn’t know you cared.”

“Is it so astonishing that I’d care for my God?”

Your hands playing with the splintering wood of the table stilled. There had always been cityfolk that knew your secret, but not many had so shamelessly flaunted their knowledge. It would seem fitting of the Spymaster to keep you on your toes. It wouldn’t be right, though, you decide, to let someone so brazen play games with a god.

“I didn’t take you for the type,” you answer measuredly, turning to meet his eye. “But then, I didn’t think I’d mentioned who I was to you before. Perhaps I’ve just scratched the surface in my perception of you.”

And perhaps the human drink has finally reached your brain, you think, as his visible eye glitters at your words. “Let’s get you home,” are the words that fall from his lips, neatly avoiding your implications. Fitting of the Knights, so good at backing out of impossible corners.

Your thoughts almost distract you from his next question.

“Where do you stay?”

You smile and lean in close, close enough Kaeya can hear you over the music and laughter of the tavern when you speak. “I don’t stay. I move where the winds lead me. And tonight, they’ve led me to you.”

He watches you, always so critical, as you lift his Death After Noon to your lips and let the sweet wine slide down your throat.

“Are you sure?” he asks, almost surprised. The wine hits your blood but does nothing to dull your mind. So difficult, to get drunk on the spirits of mortals. But there are other ways, you reason, to intoxicate oneself. And a new door just opened.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You don’t have any sense of danger? No regard for your safety?”

You shift slowly, leaning in towards the Captain. “You overestimate yourself,” you murmur, slow and sure. “Do you think you know more than me? Do you think I haven’t watched over you since you stumbled into my land? Do you think you would have thrived here without my blessing?”

You move closer, close enough that your lips brush against his ear when you say, “Do you think I don’t know you better than you know yourself?”

Kaeya freezes for a minute, but manages to maintain his façade. “If we’re to continue this conversation, it should be when you’re sober,” he relents.

“Such kindness,” you reply. So much this mortal didn’t know, so much he thought he did. You decide to keep to yourself that the wine had nothing to do with your disposition.

The scenes of the tavern and the streets blur as calloused hands guide you outside and into the night. You smile to yourself quietly– you hadn’t even had to ask– as the lights of the townhouses come into view.

The first thing you notice is that the decoration is sparse. A boy from two broken families would want less to miss, but the reality of it brings you to your senses. The music and blurriness of the city fall away to the quiet understatedness of the apartment.

Wordlessly, you remove your shoes and cross the room to wrap your arms around the Captain’s slender waist from behind.

“Poor lonely boy,” you whisper to him, your voice deep and rasping. “So underappreciated, so hopelessly unaware of the love this city feels for you.” Your grip tightens, sliding down over his hips. “Let me show you how much Mondstadt loves you.”

“You’re Mondstadt itself, are you?” comes his reply, breathless and questioning. Kaeya turns in your hands, tracing the softly glowing veins of your arms from elbow to wrist. The new orientation allows for you to let your fingertips wander, closer to where you wanted them.

“Yes,” is your simple answer. “The city, the lands, the people. I thought you knew.”

His back arches into you at the command of a wandering hand.

“I know your value to my people,” you continue, other hand tugging at his bottom lip, admiring its fullness. “I know what you deserve, outlander. You have the blessing of the Anemo Archon, is that not enough for you?

His stunned silence keeps you talking– you’ve never seen the Cavalry Captain speechless before. “Few can say they’ve caught the attention of a god. Some might consider themselves honored. Some might praise and worship me. But I like you best because you wouldn’t do any of that at all.” You brush a stray lock of hair out of his face carefully. “Beautiful little thing, let me show you how wanted you are.”

“You’re awfully confident,” comes his reply, deliberate as he brings your hand on his face to his lips, sucking at the worn, scarred flesh.

The time between the exchange at the front door and arriving in bed seems nonexistent. You hover over the mortal, veins thrumming with magic as you move to rid him of his clothes.

His submission catches you off guard, however, when he melts into your touch, letting his eye flutter shut as your fingers swiftly work open the laces of his corset and belt with an adept familiarity, as if you had put them on the Captain yourself. When the buttons of his shirt come undone, you busy yourself with his chest, and when you finally manage to peel his tight pants down his thighs, your teeth sink into the soft brown skin of his stomach.

Desperate hips rock against your chin, looking for friction. When your exploring touch finds his tight rim, you hear a barely muffled gasp from above you. That’s what I’m looking for.

“Do you have anything to help with this?” you mumble against his skin, biting back a laugh when he clenches tighter at the sound of your voice.

“Bedside table”, he answers, desperately trying to hide the shakiness of his voice. You fish in the drawer until you draw up an oil, one you first remember being used for this purpose hundreds of years ago. You push the Knight’s knees apart.

“Just like that,” you murmur, pouring the shining golden liquid over your fingers. Before the excess can spill over your palms, you press it into him, deliberate and unceremoniously. Try as you might, your eyes never stray from between his thighs as you coax your toying fingers deeper. Deft and smooth as ever, you spread him open before your prying, all-seeing eyes, as if to peel away all his secrets with the display.

Kaeya’s sweet moans brought your attention back to the present, the present where you were feeling and human and vulnerable, where another ached just out of reach of your fingertips. The present, the reality, where you could realize how much you needed to be inside the mortal crying out and stuffed full of your digits as soon as possible.

The show of his hole spreading and twitching for you almost distracted your focus enough to forget your intentions. Almost, but not quite. You stare into his bottomless, starry eye as you slide into him.

Settling your hands around the halo of blue hair, you rolled your hips forward, tender and forgiving. “I love you,” you whisper as you feel his body tremble under yours.

“You’re d-drunk,” he accuses, gasping in time with your soft thrusts. “D-don’t say things like that unless you mean it.”

Your reply comes easily. “You think I don’t?” Your lips graze the soft incline of his cheekbones. “I speak for my city. I speak for my land and all of its people. I am the wind and sky, the lifeblood of the land.”

“I love you, Kaeya.”

“Ahhhh!”

“We are your home. We love you.”

“Don’t say that, I told you–”

“I am your home. I love you.”

It had been so, so long since anyone had told Kaeya that he was loved.

The cruel emotional overstimulation you insisted on putting him through makes tears shine in his eye; that unknowable, sparkling eye. It also makes him tighten around you again.

As Kaeya’s lips part in protest, you press his knees back against his chest and drive yourself in further, reaching down to draw his lips to yours. “I love you,” you repeat, quieter against his lips before tugging his lip into your teeth. You pretend not to notice the tears that wet your cheek.

Kaeya’s fingers dig into your back, pushing you deeper, closer, as if all he wanted was to end up in a world where only you would tell him he was loved, over and over, until he could understand. The sound of his orgasm is carried on the melody of a wordless sob. His tears stream down his face in rivers now, and you lick them off his face one by one, buried deep inside as he clings to you tightly.

Well done, you think to yourself, as the Knight shakes and sobs at your mercy. What better way to welcome a mortal home than to show him his god’s love firsthand?

[ioniansunsets]

✖ Hwei Painting Reader ✖

✖ Hwei Painting Reader ✖

✖ Word Count: 1.5k

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: I've seen all the voicelines and read his content we ARE HWEI LUKAI SIMPS NOW LETS GO BABES!!!!!!!! I still can't believe this took 3 days to write because I kept re-reading and re-writing things to try to make it less OOC.

I also super kin him as a college student in an arts school. Yes my love, lets stay up to 11am rushing an uninspired assignment together surviving off coffee and instant noodles. Oh no am I triggering a school au thought for Hwei.....maybe......

Oh more art student thoughts, I headcanon his paintings to be like Henri Matisse! He is a Fauvist! I know for a fact !This man will use every single color that exists to paint his world just as he imagines it, who cares what his teachers say! That green stripe on his lover's forehead is meant to be there! Fuck the critics!

----

You had been sitting here for an hour by now, Hwei telling you how badly he wanted to- No. Needed to capture your beauty in the orange hues of the setting sun.

How inspired he was seeing you walk past the window in his studio as you two returned from a walk. The way the light glows as it hit your hair, how your body silhouetted against the glass, the way the shadows cast on the floor just was so perfect in framing sanctity of the moment.

Slowly Hwei walks over, hands soft as they feel your face. Gently, the tips of his fingers trail down from your eyes to your cheeks and finally stopping at your lips. His three favorite parts of your face, all so important in showing him your emotions.  An almost lamentable smile crossing his face as he looks down and walks back to the canvas situated slightly further away. You could usually understand him but, sometimes you wish you could understand what darkness held him back.

" I'm always blessed to have such a masterpiece like you love me. How such beauty flourishes besides my despair."

Hwei pauses, thinking of the right words. His hand rising to rest on his chin as he looks around, everywhere but you.

" It eludes me. Yet, it fills me with such honor at the same time."

Hwei speaks to you soft, voice trailing off as he thinks, slowly nodding. The lightest of pink undertones suddenly rising to his cheeks as he thinks again about what he just said.

Oh how he so dearly appreciates your bright existence in his life. Eyes not daring to meet your own for his heart is already threatening to explode just from that brief touch earlier. Emotions were always such an important part of art, he cherishes how you inspire him this way, just seeing your beauty in the world fills him with image after image to paint and bring to life.

You however, notice anyway, his feelings that he tries to hide away from you. The way the colors in his eyes change, another telltale sign of the way you affect him. Your own cheeks now dusted with the same soft pink on his.

You smile, sitting still on the window sill, a soft glow from the setting sun illuminating you from behind as you watch your lover paint. A sight that never stops amazing you, the way his magic throws colors onto the canvas, mixing together to create such visually stunning images, you were so sure those purples and greens don't exist in shadows yet somehow you know he would make it look like the rainbows were there all along.

" You know I only shine this bright because you care for me so, Hwei."

" Ah... Don't flatter me this way, your beauty is your own. I can never make something that really captures your brilliance on a canvas like this. But alas, I believe I have the skills to at least capture my emotions for you down in this one."

You watch on, another hour had passed. The sun had long set, instead, the moonlight and soft glow of the lamp overhead lights up your partner's features as the corners of his lips curl up into a smile. Unable to hold back his excitement as the empty canvas slowly fills up with color and form. His hands gracefully gliding across the scene, you watch how his clothes move around him, how the shadows move on his exposed collar as his arm raises to work. His hair bouncing behind him as he paces around, making sure he views you from every angle, catching all the important details to this moment. His eyes darting back and forth from your form to his canvas. After a while, the finishing touches finally placed, he steps back and gives a relieved sigh. He was usually so hard on himself to create perfection, but when it comes to a portraiture of you, he can't help but agree he made a masterpiece. You were stunning, so anything made in your image was stunning to him too.

" Take a look."

Hwei walks to your side, hand out for support as you held onto it and hopped off the windowsill. He guides you to the canvas, hand gently resting on the dip of your lower back. Eventually he moves to stand behind you, resting his head on your shoulder, arms now around you in a hug from behind. You can feel his anxiety, the silence in the air heavy as you carefully consider his work, a slight tremble in his grip around your waist. Of course, you only have good things to say about it, he's an art prodigy if you've ever seen one. Avant Garde work but undeniably breathtaking. As you finally look at the completed work in front of you, you were pleasantly surprised to see how once again, he left your breathless with just how he sees you.

" I can't lie Hwei, this is amazing. Everything you make is amazing to me I could never wield colors the way you do. To think that this was how you saw me."

As you speak you can feel him heat up against your back, his head slowly tilting down as he hides his face into the crook of your neck. His art of you was just one of the small ways he tries to show you his love.

" Thank you."

He whispers softly into your skin. You giggle softly, reaching up to rest your hand against his. After placing a soft kiss on the corner where your clothes meet your skin, he pulls away to stand in front of you, eyes finally meeting yours as you catch sight of gold flecks floating across his irises. He was so visibly happy to just be here, to see you happy with his work. Hwei takes a deep breath. Calming himself as he looks at you, taking in the sight of you in front of him, you can tell how his thoughts were flooding him as the two of you stood there in comfortable silence before he finally speaks.

" My dear, you bring out the light in me no matter how much it dims.

How you seem to quell that darkness is beyond me. I see so many colors when I'm with you...

The reds of your passionate love, the soft yellow of your happiness when were together, the lingering orange of comfort that you have around me all the time. And that is not even touching the blues and purples when you watch me work with amazement."

Hwei reaches out to you, one hand caressing your cheek while the other reaches around your waist to pull you in. You laugh, watching how his eyes swirl, reds fading into yellows briefly before oranges transform before your eyes into cool blues and purples as he describes you, his usually melancholic smile warping into a warm bright one.

Your heart begins to race, something about how the shadows on his face visibly lighten with his smile, paired with the excitement bubbling out of him as he exposes his precious thoughts to you. How you wish you had a way to capture this moment just as he did by painting you.

He leans forward slowly, resting his forehead against yours as his gaze casts downwards, watching your lips, taking in the curve, the way it moves as they part to breathe. He was just so taken in by you.

" May I kiss you?"

He asks, barely a whisper, somehow still seemingly uncertain in this partnership that you two have had for so long. His gaze slowly moving back up to your eyes as he awaits your answer.

" I am forever baffled by how you always ask first. You know I'd always welcome your love."

You offer him a soft chuckle, the sparkle in your eyes further reassuring him of your sentiments.

You could never say no to his sweet affections, he was always so careful with you, so gentle, so soft. You were but the most precious thing in his life after all, a blindingly bright beacon of hope in his darkest hours. A stunning jewel of ever changing colors in the light of his mundane existence. If the painting that sits at arms length from you is a testament to anything, you knew he was oh so in love with you.

Hwei lets out a small laugh of his own.

" I just like the reassuring comfort of your answer."

As he finishes his sentence, he leans forward, closing that tiny gap between your lips. You smile into the kiss, you can't help it, the feeling of his dry, chapped lips against yours was so endearing. You note to remind him to hydrate later, almost forgetting how he just spent two hours non-stop painting you with fervent passion.

As he pulls away, Hwei holds you closer to him, pressing your body against his in a tight hug. A satisfied sigh escaping him.

" I love you."

" I love you too."

[waddingham]

rebecca wants a pet

this is just a silly little ditty but here <3

Amongst all these things and more, he has learned that she does not do subtlety. Her opinions, thoughts, wants are shared unflinchingly, in a way he admires as someone who tends towards pleasing others over himself. She doesn't demand and criticize but simply shares herself with him – her opinion is always a prompt to hear his, her thoughts are little hands reaching out to know and be known by him, her wants passed along in hopes of him wanting too. And she makes it easy to respond in kind.

There's probably half a million things he's learned about Rebecca Welton in the first year of living with her. Big things and small things – she can destroy a bowl of berries and nuts in a matter of seconds. She has an almost frightening ability to hold her alcohol. She does a tiny bit of yoga everyday and those minutes of solitude are important to her. She loves him voraciously, would do just about anything for anyone in her club, and doesn't believe she will ever uncomplicate her relationship with her mother.

And because she so rarely employs subtlety, he doesn't think it's anything notable at all when she finds a new minor interest. 

"Look at this."

He turns his eyes from the TV to her, stretching an arm along the cushion as she scoots closer along the couch. She angles her phone so he can see – it's a video of a tabby cat with a mouthful of leaves, chirping as it crosses someone's yard. He grins at it, chuckling as it drops them and sits with satisfaction next to its contribution.

"She brings them a little pile of leaves everyday," Rebecca chuckles.

"Look at her go. Doin' her part."

"She's a good girl."

"Lot better than a mouthful of mice," he remarks.

She gives him a horrified look. 

"What?" he chuckles. "You never had a cat?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "Have you?"

"There was an outdoor cat when I was growing up that hung around our house. My mom hated it 'cause she's scared to death of mice and loves the birds and he would come around with either one or the other dead in his mouth and leave it. Tryin' to get on her good side, I guess." 

She stares at him. "That's disgusting."

He laughs a little bit, tilting his head. "Yeah. He brought a bird up on the stoop once, still movin', and Mama was so mad, she smacked the back of his head for him to drop it. And he did. And then another little bird came flutterin' out of his mouth and flew off."

She shakes her head, a smile pulling at her mouth. "You're full of shit."

"I am not," he laughs. "Saw it with my own eyes. He was a big fella."

She snorts, looking back down at her phone. She stays close, leaning against his side as she scrolls on. 

It takes him a while to take notice of the running theme. They send all kinds of silly stuff back and forth – videos and pictures and jokes. She sends him screenshots of funny tweets she sees, sometimes about him or the team, sometimes just random things she thinks will amuse him.

But suddenly there's a very large uptick in cat videos. 

×××

She blames Keeley. It's Keeley's fault entirely.

She doesn't know what possessed her friends, if it was the influence of Phoebe or what, but they've adopted a cat – a beautiful, lithe, sleek one that could nearly be taken for a tiny leopard for its coloring. She's a lively little thing, playful and talkative, but she seems to adore Rebecca. When she goes over, she spends the length of her visit circling her feet or pacing her lap on the couch, purring like a fiend, pushing her head into Rebecca's palm.

And, goddammit, Rebecca likes it. She likes watching her prance around, flopping around on the floor for attention, just in general being entertaining and sweet. 

She sees them everywhere now – or at least is really noticing them as she scrolls through social media, seeing Leslie's sons posting videos of their new kitten and Keeley and Roy's little minx chasing her tail and random strangers with unnaturally gorgeous felines. 

She hasn't any idea how Ted feels about getting a pet. And normally she'd just tell him, have all her arguments outlined, or just recklessly show up with one one day, but they have quite literally just settled into living together. She doesn't want him to say yes just because she wants it and then hate it and hate taking care of it – she wants him to want it too. So she's going a little more insidious. Or trying to, sending out feelers by sending him cats and seeing what he says. 

She's not having much luck. He will aww and ooh, but doesn't express any disdain or desire to get one. Which isn't helping her.

"Who's idea was the cat?" she asks Keeley. 

"I wanted a dog and Roy wanted a cat," she says, stroking Camilla's back as she arches on the couch next to her. "But we settled on her 'cause she's so cool and active and spirited, she's like a low maintenance dog."

Keeley gives her a little grin. "You want one, don't you?"

"I do," Rebecca admits, scratching Camilla's neck as she crosses to her. 

"You guys should get one then," Keeley says. "They're so easy."

"I haven't asked Ted what he thinks yet," she says. 

"Well, I don't think he would refuse you anything, first of all," she says, sipping her wine. "And also how cute would he be with kittens all over him?"

"Stop," she says, tilting her head. "Or I'll show up at home with a box of them tomorrow."

Keeley giggles. "I think he would like a cat. Or a dog, but I would guess you–"

"I do not want a dog," Rebecca says. That's a lot more mess, care, and maintenance to jump right into when she's never even had a pet.

She hopes he wouldn't rather have a dog.

She supposes she's going to just have to bring it up outright – he's not catching on and she's already tired of trying to be slick about it.

×××

"Hey," he calls out when he hears the front door open. He gets one in response as she comes in, kicking her shoes off. She's earlier than he expected – she usually lingers late into the evening when she goes over to Keeley and Roy's.

He looks up at her from his sprawl on the couch as she rounds the sofa and immediately plants a knee between him and the cushions, crawling up and laying over him.

"You weren't gone long," he remarks as she settles herself against him, his arm landing on her back, her head on his middle.

"No," she sighs. "I left when Roy got back from his sister's. Keeley seemed…eager to be alone with him."

He chuckles, pushing his hand through her hair. "Well, cheers to them."

She giggles a little bit, rubbing a hand along his side over his t-shirt. She relaxes against him – the loveliest blanket he's ever had the pleasure to be covered with.

"I like their kitty," she remarks and he smiles.

"She's a lil' firecracker," he says. "Cracks me up."

She rolls her head until her chin is planted on his chest to look up at him. Her eyes are a little wide, eyebrows tipped up. 

"Can we get one?"

His smile grows as he tilts his head. He never would've taken her for a pet person.

"Sure," he says. He likes cats.

She almost scoffs, closing her eyes. 

"Of course you're going to be that easy about it."

He chuckles. "Do you want me to argue with you about it?"

"No, but I thought it would take at least a little convincing," she says and he squints at her a little bit. 

"Is that why you keep sending me cat stuff?"

She does scoff then, rolling her eyes. "Yes."

"Why?" he laughs. "What do you think I have against cats?"

"I don't know," she says, laying her head back down in exasperation. 

And since when does she do sneaky?

He chuckles again, smoothing a hand over her hair. 

"We'd have to go get some stuff," he muses. "But I remember Higgins saying he can't go to the pet store on Saturdays 'cause the shelter sets up with a bunch of kitties and he knows he'll go home with one. We could go then. Get the stuff and peek at the cats." 

"I already have everything saved to order online," she mumbles and he laughs.

"You could've just said something, Rebecca."

"I was trying to sniff you out first," she says. "But you gave me nothing."

"I'm sorry," he chuckles. "What kinda kitty do you want?"

"A soft one. Sweet one. Not so crazy as Camilla."

"Alright," he says. "Kitten?"

"I would like a kitten, I think," she says, lifting her head again to look at him. "Start from scratch."

"Okay, then," he smiles. "Sounds like fun."

×××

He didn't know what he expected when she said she had stuff saved, but he really shouldn't be surprised. The things that arrive over the next couple days look like something straight out of a housecat's dreams. A water drinking fountain and several very soft beds, toys, dishes, food that now has a shelf in the fridge, and, good lord, the litter box.

He just laughs when she sets it on the kitchen island. 

"It's automatic," she says, then lifts her hands, defending herself. "Do you want to do it? Because I don't."

He reads the side of the box, still grinning. "It connects to the WiFi?!”

"Oh, stop," she says. "Like I was going to skimp out on this."

"How much did this cost you?" he asks, looking up with a grin. 

"What does that matter?" she says innocently.

"C’mon, tell me," he says. 

"No."

He looks in the shipping box, spying an invoice and snatching it before she can stop him. 

"Give me that–"

"Seven hundred pounds?!" he says, laughing. "Oh my God, Rebecca."

"Stop," she says, swiping the paper from him, smiling at his teasing. 

"You know it's gonna poop in it right?" 

"Exactly. And then neither of us has to touch it."

"Now I feel like we're not adopting a cat but selecting one lucky winner to come live a life of luxury and refinement."

She laughs, wrapping her arms around the box, giving him a haughty look. 

"If you'll excuse me. I have a cat shitter to set up."

He chuckles, watching her go, but following after a few minutes to help her. 

×××

"I was excited, but now I'm just sad," she remarks as they walk through the narrow room. 

"Yeah," he laments. "Now I feel like adopting a nice round dozen or two."

"I think we'll have to start with one," she says, taking another step, giving the next cat its due attention. "Hello. Aren't you lovely?"

They wander through at a slow pace, having been told the kittens they have are at the far end of the room, but she stops at every cage, offering her fingers and compliments to each kitty. 

They don't make it to the far end – he didn't really expect them to. 

"Oh," Rebecca says, coming to a complete stop at a cage. "Oh, look at you."

The cat inside is a pale gray that fades into white at its paws and nose with long fur – not the longest they've seen, but longer than the shorthairs – curled up in the little bed in the corner.

"Oh, he's pretty," Ted says, stepping closer.

"How do you know it's a he?" she remarks, sticking her fingers into the cage, greeting the kitty. "Hello."

It lifts its head, peering at them with lovely gray blue eyes. He sticks his own fingers in, watching the cat take an interest, standing and stretching.

"Oh," Rebecca says sadly, and he turns to her, finding her reading the information card hooked on the cage. 

"Hmm?"

"'My loving owner died and I had nowhere to go'," she reads aloud. "'I'm an affectionate, easygoing kitty that enjoys lots of lap time.'"

She turns to him with a frown, then to the cat as they both feel him rub himself along their fingers. Ted curls his fingers into his soft fur, turning back to Rebecca, finding her watching the kitty with a little heartbreak in her eyes. 

"I like him," she says.

"I thought you wanted a kitten," he reminds her softly.

She doesn't respond, watching the little guy push his head against her knuckles. He steps around her, trading spots to read the rest of the card for himself.

"He's already ten years old," he says, sliding a hand over her back. He doesn't have a problem with it – he wouldn't mind an older cat, but she seemed set on a baby.

"I know," she says slowly, like she's realizing she's pretty much made up her mind. "But I think he deserves a nice retirement."

He smiles at her, watching the kitty sit close enough for Rebecca to brush her finger over the soft fur at his chest, primly adjusting his big white paws in front of him before curling his tail around. He peers at them, then lets out a soft little mow that has both of them chuckling.

"See, you agree, don't you?" she says. "You're a little sweetheart, huh? I didn't even look to see what your name is."

Ted looks, having skimmed over it too, smiling at what he finds. "Arthur."

"Arthur?" Rebecca chuckles. 

"What a name, huh? Who picked up this little guy as a sweet little puffball of a kitten, looked at him on the most exciting day of his life and then gave him the most old man name possible? I'm so sorry, buddy."

"Oh, stop," she says, scratching at Arthur's chin as she reassures him. "I think it's a great name. And I don't think Theodore has any room to talk."

He laughs fully at that, hearing Rebecca chuckle with him. "Well, that's me told," he says, squeezing her side, pulling her attention as she turns. "Should we see if somebody will open his cage up so we can meet him?"

She nods, giving him a bright smile.

×××

Of course they brought old Art home. And it doesn't even take two days before they're both absolutely smitten. 

He's taken to following them around curiously, as well as flopping and rolling against the shag rug in the living room. He'd been absolutely riveted by the dining room, chirping and chattering at the birds through the windows – to their endless amusement – and surveying the backyard as if it were new domain he's claimed. 

He's just adorable. And quickly growing very comfortable here. 

Clearly.

"Well, he didn't take long to settle in, did he?" he remarks.

Rebecca's laid out on the couch with Arthur stretched along her front, his head nestled against her chest, paws stretched toward her chin. He can hear the little guy purring from where he stands at the end of the couch as she strokes his fur from ears to tail, grinning with pure delight.

"And he found the best spot already."

She chuckles, bending her knees to make room for him to sit. Arthur lifts his head, eyes opening at being jostled. 

"Oh, relax," she mutters. "We share with Ted, alright?"

She lays her legs over his thighs as he chuckles. 

"I see you're having no trouble bonding with our new resident," he says as his arms stretches along the back of the sofa.

"Of course not," she almost coos, rubbing at Arthur's cheek. "And don't think I didn't see you carrying him around like a baby yesterday."

"Oh, c'mon. He was lookin' up at me and making the saddest little noise. And you know what, I ain't even gonna pretend I wouldn't die for him already."

She chuckles, holding Arthur's little face as he just purrs and purrs. "You hear that? You have Ted's eternal devotion."

"Christ, he looks more in love with you than I am," he muses.

She laughs at that, glancing up at him. "I'm pretty sure he's very happy to not be in that cage anymore."

Arthur stands at the disturbance, stretching his back before he traverses Rebecca's body to see what Ted has going on. 

"I think you made a good choice, darlin'," he says to Rebecca as Arthur just stands on Ted's thighs, pressing up into his hand as he strokes him. 

"I love him," she mutters.

He smiles as Arthur throws himself against Ted's abdomen, rolling in his lap.

"Me too."

×××

When she steps into the bedroom, she just has to grin.

Ted's lounging on the bed, scrolling his phone with Arthur cradled in his arm against his chest, dead asleep.

It's almost hilarious to think about now – that she was uncertain if he'd enjoy having a cat. More than half the times she comes upon him in the house, he's either holding or talking to Arthur. He carries him around like a little prince and he just purrs like a madman.

Maybe they didn't end up with a box of kittens, but it's still unbelievably cute. And she hates to disturb it, but, right now, she's going to.

She crawls up onto the bed, leaning on an elbow next to him.

"What's going on here?" she asks, scratching the top of Arthur's head, startling him if his little mrrp is anything to go by.

"He needed snuggled apparently," Ted says as he drops his phone next to him. "And I think I make a pretty good bed if I do say so myself."

"I can confirm," she nods. "But he might have to go."

Ted frowns at her, stroking Arthur's side almost protectively. "He's fine here." 

"Okay, but what if I'm trying to have sex with you?" she asks, watching Ted's brows lift again. 

"Ah, well, I think you're a little late," he says, gesturing to the cat. "I think I'm otherwise engaged for the evening."

She gives him a flat look, getting a little grin back. 

"Arthur, buddy, I think you're in danger," he whispers to the cat, who has no reaction whatsoever. Ted shifts him to get him up and he just lifts his head and glares at him, dead weight against his chest.

"Oh, c'mon man, don't do this to me," Ted chuckles as Rebecca pantomimes looking at a watch. "Look at her. Be a little wingman here, huh?"

He's unenthused as Ted lifts him up and leans to put him on the floor. 

"There," he says, immediately rolling into her until she's on her back, grinning up at him. 

"I'm all yours," he mutters against her neck, his hands immediately bunching her shirt to get to her skin. "Though you might have to work out a schedule with the little man."

She snickers, pulling him down hard against her with a leg, sliding her hands against his back as she catches his lips with hers. She hums as he grinds against her, the little fever in her core telling her this probably isn't going to be especially leisurely–

They both freeze at the sound of the sheets rustling. They look towards the end of the bed, where Arthur's jumped back up, ears pinned back, feet braced against the duvet. Before either of them can say anything, he dives forward, chasing nothing, then does a fast loop before freezing again. 

She can't help but snort when he looks back at them, eyes wild before he does another circle, then gets distracted with licking his leg.

"What is he doing?" Ted chuckles, then startles when Arthur spins and leaps at his toes.

"Oh, Jesus, man!"

She barks out a laugh as he jerks his foot away and she's in stitches as Arthur chases after it before finally doing another loop, leaping off the bed and sprinting out the door. 

"What the hell–" Ted laughs, turning back to her as she catches her breath, pulling him against her again.

"He's not the forgiving kind apparently."

"Who wanted a cat again?" he asks, his grinning mouth falling to her jaw.

"I did," she laughs. "And it was so worth it."

[anonymous-dentist]

Playing fast and loose with the rules here, but: an Ordem Paranormal AU (kind of.)

-

So, okay, here's the thing: Roier really doesn't believe in ghosts anymore. Ghosts aren't real, demons certainly aren't real, none of it is!

What is real is Instagram, and so that's what he does best: Instagram.

But the thing is- the thing is! Roier doesn't believe in ghosts, but he's pretty sure his bosses do, because all he does at work is photoshop cheap-looking graphics together and post 'Paranormal Safety Tips'.

"Some people may not realize that they're getting involved with the supernatural," Mr. Veríssimo says, "It's important to make sure that they're at least somewhat protected."

Which is fine and all, but also. Ghosts aren't real. Neither are demons- demons especially aren't real.

But Roier does his job, and he does it quite happily. It's decent pay, especially considering he's been in Brazil for just under a month now and this was the only place to actually respond to his job application. He gets to work from home. He gets one free coffee at a local cafe once a month.

That's right. Roier is the first ever social media manager for the Ordo Realitas, and he's doing a great job at it.

...But also. Ghosts aren't real. Neither are demons. Hell isn't real, and neither is the Devil. Blood is blood, and it doesn't breathe.

(Usually.)

-

Roier's neighbors like to argue all day and throw things and cause immense destruction towards themselves and their property, so Roier usually ends up spending at least one afternoon a week at the nearest library doing his job and watching YouTube videos.

He likes the library. It's quiet-ish, and it's across the street from this really good restaurant that makes Mexican food that almost tastes like the genuine article.

He especially likes the librarian: the one with the scars and the freaky vibes. He doesn't blink a lot, and Roier isn't sure he's ever seen this guy breathe, but that's fine. He always saves a table near an outlet for Roier and his laptop, and he doesn't question the absolutely freakish shit Roier has to make for his company's Instagram page.

Like today's 'Paranormal Safety Tip': 'If you find yourself face-to-face with a restless spirit, it's important to remain calm. Loud noises startle spirits, so stay quiet and back away slowly. Chances are, you'll get out of the situation unharmed. Once in a safe location, call the Ordo Realitas, and we'll send an agent out to handle the spirit for you!'

The text is the second photo out of two on the post. The first photo is going to be a MS-Paint sketch of a pissed-looking cartoon ghost holding a shotgun and shouting, in a white speech bubble, "I'm going to shoot you!!! >:("

Roier doesn't have a mouse, so he draws using his trackpad, and the librarian watches from over Roier's shoulder and only laughs a little.

"Shut up," Roier huffs. "It's art!"

"It is," the librarian agrees. "But that isn't what ghosts look like."

Roier turns around to glare at him. "What, and you know?"

The librarian nods.

Roier turns back around. Everybody's a critic...

"Don't you have a job to be doing?" he taunts.

"Normally, yeah, but nobody else is here," the librarian responds. "It's just us."

He pulls out the chair opposite Roier and sits, arms crossed across his chest. This close together, Roier notices that some of the scars on the librarian's arms almost seem to make patterns: triangles, spirals... words? Huh.

Whatever, that isn't any of Roier's business. So what if his favorite librarian is a shady guy? So is Roier! He can't judge.

But, looking up from his laptop (and from the librarian's very nice arms), Roier notices that there really isn't anybody else in the library. He hadn't even noticed how quiet it had gotten, he was so caught up in his masterpiece drawing. All of the usual patrons- the old man reading the newspaper, the mother and her children in the corner, the students arguing over their latest project- are all missing. So are all of the other librarians.

"Huh," Roier smartly says.

He looks back at his laptop, and then he starts scrolling down through the Instagram page. He's sure that he's written something up about sudden disappearances...

"I was honestly surprised to find you over here," the librarian continues. "I figured you would have gone where everybody else did."

Roier shakes his head. "Nah, I'm here. I've got shit to do, man. Important shit."

The librarian nods. "Instagram."

Roier looks up from his laptop and points a finger at the librarian.

"Work," he corrects, waggling his finger just a little. "I'm doing work."

"You're drawing shitty ghosts and posting them on Instagram."

"And I'm getting paid for it. I'll fucking take this over my old job."

"Really? What was your old job?"

Roier thinks back to Mexico and the weeks leading up to his wedding. Sitting outside of his soon-to-be husband's window at night with binoculars, following him around town, slashing his tires so he wouldn't leave to go to the bar when Roier had a game night planned between them.

"Surveillance," he quickly says. "Like, cameras and shit. It was boring, though. Lots of waiting."

"Sounds fun, honestly." The librarian shrugs; his leg bounces under the table hard enough to shake it, nervous. "I could handle that."

"What, is librarian-ing that boring?"

"No, but it's a lot more socializing than you'd think. It can be a bit... much sometimes."

Roier nods sympathetically. He's more of an introvert than a lot of people think he is, especially now after... after everything.

He frowns as he reaches the bottom of the Instagram. Nope, nothing about weird group disappearances.

...It's probably fine?

Roier cranes his neck to try and look over the librarian's shoulder.

"Where is everybody?" he asks.

The librarian shrugs. "I was on my break. I came out of the break room, and everyone was gone."

He turns his head to try and follow Roier's gaze.

"Sometimes we do community events," he continues, "but I don't think that there was one scheduled for today."

"Huh," Roier says, a perfect echo of when he had last said it. "That's kinda weird, right?"

"...Yeah."

They both sit there in silence for a moment before the librarian awkwardly clears his throat and turns his head to the side.

"Should we... look for them?" he asks.

Every single post that Roier has done for the Ordo Realitas has ended with him telling the public to call the Ordo when they're experiencing something paranormal in nature. So... should he call them?

But also. He's the Ordo Realitas. He's the guy who goes through all of the dms the Ordo gets on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook... everywhere!

Besides! Ghosts aren't real! Neither are demons.

So Roier pushes back his chair and stands.

"Come on," he tells the librarian, hurriedly packing his laptop away in his bag and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I bet they just went outside. We probably missed a fire alarm or something."

"We would've heard a fire alarm," the librarian huffs.

But he stands, anyway, and he joins Roier as he starts making his way through the library.

It isn't a huge library, is the thing. It's small. Its shelves are short enough for Roier to easily be able to see over the tops of them. There's only one main room, and then there's the break room that the librarian seems to believe is also completely empty. There is one set of main doors at the front of the main room, and then there are a few windows along the walls.

As Roier and the librarian pass through the shelves and make it into the open area in the middle of the room- where the circulation desk is, Roier notices a weird chill in the air that he swears wasn't there a minute ago.

"Huh," says the librarian, looking down at their feet, "maybe there was a fire, after all."

Roier looks down, too. His nose wrinkles. This, he remembers posting about.

A thin layer of smoke covers the floor, not quite enough to reach halfway up Roier's shoes. It's cold, of course it's cold. It isn't even smoke, really. It's freaky mist... stuff.

Roier's hand tightens around the strap of his bag: white knuckles and stinging palm. Not again...

The librarian swings a foot through the mist absently; the mist kicks up briefly, but it settles back down almost immediately.

What did that post say, again? God, Roier needs a rubber bracelet saying, 'WWMVD?': What Would Mr. Veríssimo do?

Roier has met Mr. Veríssimo only twice, and he had a gun in his hands both times.

Roier does not have a gun now.

...But, really, are guns even necessary? It's just mist, right?

Only just a little freaked out, Roier shuffles a step closer to the librarian.

"Maybe we should get out of here," the librarian says, reading Roier's goddamn mind. "I mean. If there is a fire, we definitely need to leave."

Roier nods in agreement. "Yes. Definitely."

Neither of them move.

Roier jumps and bumps into the librarian as a book falls from a shelf on the other side of the room.

The librarian grabs him by the arm and stabilizes him, not letting go.

They both look in the direction of the fallen book.

"Dude," says Roier, "I think your library is haunted."

"We're in Brazil," the librarian responds. "I think every building is haunted here."

Roier nods. Makes sense. Ghosts aren't real, but Brazil is probably haunted as shit. That's why the Ordo Realitas is based here and not in, like, Paraguay. Or something.

They stare at the book some more. The mist reaches towards it like a needy baby, but it doesn't quite make it.

"You're a librarian," Roier says, "you should go pick that up."

The librarian shakily sighs, "Yeah. I should, shouldn't I?"

He sucks in a breath, lets it out slowly. Straightens his shoulders. Marches towards the book, pulling Roier along with him; Roier doesn't fight too much. He doesn't want to be alone right now, either.

They get to the book.

The librarian looks down at it.

Slowly, he bends down. He picks the book up with one hand.

And then he immediately drops the book and skitters back a few steps, bumping into Roier's chest and almost knocking them both over.

Panicked-sounding, the librarian wheezes, "It's hot!"

"It's a book!" Roier argues. "It can't be hot!"

The librarian shakes his head rapidly. "It's hot. It's warm. Like you."

Through all the terror in Roier's heart, he manages a faint blush.

"Are you really calling me hot right now?" he asks.

The librarian looks back at him with a very unhappy expression: wide eyes, unblinking.

"The book was breathing," he wheezes. "Dude, we need to go."

Breathing books... that's new.

Oh, no. That's new. That means that Mr. Veríssimo doesn't know about it yet. That means that it isn't on the Instagram yet. That means that it's Roier's job as social media manager to get it on the Instagram.

Nose wrinkling in disgust, Roier shakes the librarian off of him and crouches down next to the book. He pulls out his phone with shaking hands, opens the camera app. Takes a picture of the book's cover- a children's book: Learn Shapes With Bippi.

"Oh my God, you really are an Instagram guy," the libarian flatly says.

Roier waves him off with a 'Shush!'.

He grabs the book's cover by the corner with his thumb and pointer finger, and it takes everything for him to keep holding it because hooooly shit, it's breathing. It's warm and it's breathing and Roier swears there's a heartbeat, he swears!

"This sucks," he declares. "One more picture, and we're out of here."

He flips the cover over, ready to take a picture of just the title page, but he doesn't even finish reading the title again before dropping his phone and screaming and falling back onto his ass and scrambling backwards like an upside-down spider because oh God what the fuckOh GodWhatTheFuck-

"What the fuck?" the librarian screeches. "Alan?"

The face inside of the book lets out a moaned, pained breath. It blinks slowly, the page it's on trembling with the exertion. Its eyes are open and blank and staring and red and staring at Roier and- and its mouth! It's open and gaping and black and entirely too deep-seeming for the front page of a children's book. No nose, but two nostrils right in the middle of the page opening and closing with every ragged breath the face takes in. No skin, just the faintest indentation of a human face's internal musculature. No bones, just muscles, just muscles-

"'Alan'?" Roier gasps. His back bumps against the librarian's legs; the librarian pulls him up by the back of his shirt and tries to push him behind him. Yeah, no, Roier is the professional here. He's... he's the professional!

The librarian shakily nods. "Children's librarian. He's new. He's-"

"He's a fucking book!" Roier shouts. "What the fuck? Is this normal?"

"What? No! Of course it isn't normal!"

"Well! I don't know Alan! This could be normal! Who knows?"

"I know!" the librarian exclaims. He's still looking at the book. "Why is he a book!"

"How should I know?"

"You're the ghost guy!"

"Ghosts aren't real!"

The face groans and gurgles. The book it's in shakes, and it shakes so hard that it starts to move.

It starts to move right towards Roier and the librarian.

Roier grabs the librarian by his sleeve and starts tugging him away. Fuck his phone, fuck his phone! Mr. Veríssimo can just get him a new one! It's only fair! What the fuck!

"Cell... bit..." the face rasps.

The librarian grimaces.

"What the fuck is a 'Cellbit'?" Roier asks.

"Me," the librarian responds.

"Nice," Roier comments. "Stop looking at it. Let's go!"

But the librarian- Cellbit- doesn't budge, even with all of Roier's pulling.

"But... it's Alan," Cellbit insists. "He's a book. Is-" (He looks around the library, turning more and more pale with every passing second.) "-is everybody a book now?"

"Um," says Roier, looking around with him.

Now that he's looking, he can see that every single book on every single shelf around them is quivering in the same way the Alan Book is. There's a faint droning buzz around them that Roier is starting to think is actually hundreds of thousands of moaning, groaning, dying book faces.

He's going to be sick.

"This wasn't on the Instagram," is all he says before grabbing Cellbit firmly by the wrist and pulling him with all his strength away from the shelves. This time, Cellbit goes along with him even after jerking his wrist out of Roier's hold.

"This doesn't make any sense!" Cellbit shouts as they run. "People don't just become books!"

"I know that!" Roier replies. "This is fucked up, man!"

Another book falls from a shelf and starts wiggling towards them. And then another, and another, and another, and Roier knows that each one has a face inside. Every single one was a person ten minutes ago, but now. Now they're faces. In books. Flesh books. With heartbeats. And lungs.

Roier jumps over a fallen book. He glances down as he does so and gasps as he watches the cover fly open by itself and as the face on the title page snaps upwards and tries biting him with teeth that weren't there two seconds ago.

"They have teeth?" he cries. "Ew!!"

"They're book faces!" Cellbit huffs. "Why wouldn't they have teeth?"

"Fuck this. Fuck this!"

They make it out into the open area and the circulation desk. But the entire library around them is shaking and moaning and screaming- oh, the screaming!

Hundreds of books litter the floor slowly inching their ways towards Roier and Cellbit. They're all screaming as they drag themselves across the rough carpet.

Oh, God. The kids. Every person in this library except for the two of them are books. Including the kids.

"Doors," Cellbit wheezes, nodding towards the library doors.

Roier nods. "Doors."

They look at each other briefly before nodding in sync and taking off for the doors. Books fall all around them, tumbling to the floor and crawling after them with garbled screams and moans of pain.

"I'm trying to think," Cellbit breathes.

"Well, don't! Just run!" Roier snaps.

Cellbit ignores him and continues: "I wasn't holding a book. You weren't holding a book. We're fine. Alan was re-shelving the kids' section. He's a book."

He dodges to the side as a book lunges at him from its shelf.

"Okay?" Roier asks. "And?"

"And I bet everybody else touched a book!"

"We touched books!"

"But these ones are- fuck!" Cellbit swears and kicks a book that was trying to bite him away. "They're trying to bite us!"

Something sparks in Roier's brain.

"Werebooks?" he demands. "Really?"

Cellbit throws his hands up in the air. "I don't know! It's just a theory!"

Roier rolls his eyes, but he doesn't argue. Werebooks, sure. Those can be real. (Not ghosts, though. Or demonds.)

He and Cellbit get to the door.

They push the door open.

They run outside and wince at the sunlight blasting them right in the eyes.

But there are still books behind them. Roier can hear them.

Fuck! WWMVD?

The Ordo Realitas hunts the paranormal, Roier thinks. That's what everybody else does. But he's just a social media manager! He doesn't do that kind of stuff!

But if he doesn't stop all of those books from leaving the library, then God only knows how many of them would do... werebook things. They're disgusting. They're inhuman. They're monstrous. They're a danger to the world, and Roier has to stop them.

But how do you kill a bunch of books?

For whatever reason, his mind takes him back to the night after his wedding. Natalan stands in front of him with a lighter held to their marriage certificate, smiling as Roier struggles against his ropes to try and save their marriage from quite literally going up into flames.

"Fire," he gasps, suddenly back in the moment.

He spins to look at Cellbit, but Cellbit already seems on it. His hands are already searching his pockets desperately, and he's swearing under his breath.

Roier looks around the street desperately. There's the restaurant across the street. There are cars on the road. Tourists taking photos. Dogs. Cats.

An old man lighting a cigarette on the corner.

Roier grins and charges towards the old man.

"Sorry!" he shouts, swiping the lighter from him and ignoring the shouts (and the angry old man) following him as he runs back to the library.

Cellbit immediately reaches for the lighter. "Let me. It's my library."

But Roier ducks away and flicks the lighter open himself.

"And it's my job," he says. "Stand back."

He stares at the lighter's tiny little flame nervously, and then he looks at the doors to the library.

When he moved to Brazil a month ago, he didn't think he would be committing arson. But, well. Life isn't always what you expect it to be.

Roier takes a running start, and then he throws the lighter into the library. It hits the carpet, and the flames spread, well, like wildfire. (Thank God, the building is old...)

The books all scream in agony as they're burned, but Roier doesn't really give a shit. Fuck them, they're evil. Creepy-ass books...

He kicks the library's doors shut, and he walks back to Cellbit and the very angry old man.

Panting, Roier leans against a telephone pole. His bag is somehow still on his shoulder, but his phone is still inside.

He looks at Cellbit.

"Can I borrow your phone?" he asks. "I need to call my boss."

Cellbit doesn't look away from the library. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it with his thumbprint, and holds it out for Roier to take.

Roier puts in the Ordo's number and puts the phone to his ear. He listens to the dial tone, and he smiles as he hears the secretary's voice.

"Can you give me Mr. Veríssimo?" Roier asks her. "He's gonna want to hear this."

[h0ney-gl0ws]

Hades boys! When you’re in an argument!

This is my take on how the hades boys would react if you were to get into an argument

Very minor spoilers for Hypnos’ locked heart event.

Word Count: 1,247 (Approx)

Zagreus

-Zagreus is friendly with all people of the house of hades, so with that comes questions. Lots and lots of questions.

-How could he not? He’s interested in you and wants to show he cares by learning all about you.

-Until the inevitable happens and he asks a question too personal for your taste. Naturally, you get snippy with him.

-He’ll immediately apologize, but it’ll be in vain. You lecture him about diving into other people’s personal business, and send him away.

-Zagreus would feel pretty bad about it after. He meant no harm or malice. He was simply curious, and his own lack of common sense caused him to upset you. He decides to take matters into his own hands once again, and try to make it up to you.

-Over the course of his next few runs, he gathers nectar and hopes to run into you. When he finally does catch up to you again, you have had time to cool off, and before he could apologize to you, you beat him to it.

-“I’m sorry Zagreus,” You start, “I didn’t mean to blow up at you I was just angry in the moment. You didn’t know that would offend me, and instead of yelling at you I should have instead explained that I didn’t want to answer the question, forgive me?”

-“What? No, its really me who should be apologizing to you. You were right about me getting involved in things that aren’t my business. I’m really sorry for offending you, I didn’t mean to. Please accept this apology gift of nectar. I hope I can make it up to you someday.” He says presenting the pristine bottle to you.

-You smile, accepting the gift. You give him a hug and suggest sharing the bottle in the lounge. Zagreus says he’d like that, and (at Zagreus’ insistence) you would discuss your boundaries regarding questions. As well as telling him a bit about yourself you don’t mind sharing.

-Next time Zagreus sees you it’s on much better terms, and you’re happy to answer any questions he might have as long as he sticks to your agreement.

Thanatos

-Thanatos is naturally dark and brooding, but don’t mistake that for anger. As he is actually very sweet when it comes down to it, if not a bit abrupt.

-However, that does not mean he doesn’t get cross with people. Especially when it comes down to his work.

-When you first arrived at the house of hades, you automatically took a liking to him. His visits to the house were far and few in between, but when he did show up, you bet you were taking advantage of the opportunity.

-You even got a job at the administrative chambers to try and get more chances to talk to him.

-Whenever he delivered reports to you, you would try to engage in conversation.

-His answers were always short and direct, but you’d take what you could get. He’d often disappeared right after as well. Leaving you a little disappointed.

-One day, the rare occurrence of him being in the house came around. The prince walking away after chatting with him and giving you a small wave. You just finished collecting a few reports from Hypnos and you have a few moments to spare.

-“Hey Thanatos!” You shout out.

-“Why must you insist on bothering me so when we both have jobs to do?” He replied.

-“What?”

-“I’m very busy every day, yet every time i must interact with you, you postpone my duties with idle chatter. Why?”

-You scoff, “I’m just being friendly, I didn’t realize your such a workaholic you can’t spare a few seconds to answer how you’ve been.”

-“I suggest you worry more about yourself and your work ethic before criticizing mine.”

-With the toll of a gong he was gone, and you were upset.

-As the weeks past by every time, Thanatos would deliver a report to you, you’d give him the cold shoulder. He often look at you expectantly, but you wouldn’t mutter a peep to him. You didn’t want to disturb his oh so important work after all.

-Eventually, Zagreus was the one to get fed up with your silent feud. Bringing the topic up to Than the next time he got the chance. Than relented that maybe he was too harsh in his treatment of you. After all you were just trying to be friendly. Even though it’d hurt his pride, he promised Zagreus he’d talk to you.

-Sure enough, he took the next chance he could to talk to you. He told you he didn’t realize how much he missed your pointless questions. That he simply didn’t want to be held up with his work, as it very important for death to be punctual and he got annoyed with you because of it. You said you understood, but really you just wanted to get to know him better. How you didn’t realize it was holding him up at all. He admitted he overreacted, and made a promise to you the next time you both had a break, to spend time with you.

-You told him you’d hold him to that promise

Hypnos

-It’s no secret Hypnos has his flaws. Yes, he can be lazy, gets easily sidetracked, and often sleeps on the job, but being one of the few people who smile around here, he actually drew you in.

-On the rare occurrences he’d actually be awake, he’d often try to engage in conversation with the shades. Most would ignore his antics, all but you.

-You’d entertain his silly chats, coming to quite enjoy the time you’d spend together. It was a breath of fresh air to have someone cheerful to hang around.

-Then, the time came when you asked him to join you for a break. A time to hangout together and do things important to you.

-He agreed but when the time came for you to meet…he didn’t show up.

-You sought him out feeling a bit hurt he’d abandon your plans like that. After shaking him awake, he spoke excuse after excuse, promising you it wouldn’t happen again and he’d meet you the next time.

-You conceded, it was only one time, it really could have been an honest mistake.

-Until it happened again, and again, and again…

-By this point you were hurt, frustrated, and disappointed. So, you got angry with Hypnos. Saying that the things people said about him were true. How he’s a self absorbed lowlife who never takes anything seriously and only cares about himself.

-After that a few weeks pass by with you not running into Hypnos. Rumors spurred that he was…actually working? Apparently you weren’t the only person to blow up at him that day.

-Hypnos appeared in front of you later, and apologized for missing out on the times you tried to get to know him. He said that his twin Thanatos really made him have a realization into getting his work in check, and the importance of proper priorities. He ended his schpeal by saying he’d start prioritizing you when he got the chance, and invited you to spend some time with him the next time he got a break.

-This time he was true to his word.

[lovemari]

IMPORTANT: Hello! My old account, Lovemari, got deleted. Therefore, I had to make a new one. I'm honestly pretty upset about this so I'll take some time to recover! Thankfully, all my posts are saved as I write them in google docs before posting. Please like and reblog so I can reach my old followers and potentially new ones!

Ring - Scaramouche x Reader

Reminder: I'm not an experienced writer so construction criticism is always welcome! Also, I write for fun. I just wanted to share my work around the world!

Notes: This will be a small fluff fict. Also, did you know that if you're married, the ring is on your left hand?

People who crossed paths with the Balladeer have never been seen again. Subordinates are afraid of him and his capabilities. The other harbingers aren't on good terms with him either.

That didn't stop you from seeing Scaramouche in a different light. You saw him as someone who needed love. You often get teased or mocked for this. Most people say things like, “She'll fix him.” In a high pitched voice.

Maybe it's true. Maybe you really are just delusional but that's fine with you. If you can make him smile once, your whole life will be complete.

That's exactly why you have him a gift today. It sounded sort of desperate and you knew that. After all, the gift was none other than a ring.

You walked over to Scaramouche's tent, somewhat regretting your gift choice. You set the gift down, with a note. Before you could run off, the Balladeer got out of his tent. He gave you a cold stare, “I had a feeling you'd get me something one day. It better be good.” He sneered. You didn't say anything back, still processing the fact that Scaramouche is right in front of you.

Scaramouche took the gift and went back inside. With a sigh of relief, you successfully went back to your tent. It was already late and the tension before made you really sleepy.

The day after, you woke up, ready to take your orders from Scaramouche. As you got out of bed and headed out, you saw Scaramouche yelling at some poor subordinate. You also noticed a certain accessory on his left hand. It was the ring you gave to him last night.

After the subordinate scurried away, you saw Scaramouche giving you a small smile. You knew you were blushing but you didn't hide it. Instead, you smiled back.