#also not Indulging every night will make the times i do more enjoyable

[yatiso]

entering my mostly sober era fr this shit kindve rocks ngl

[rinneroraito]

muLtitasking

Work and pleasure don't mix, or do they? NSFW L x Female reader, 2K+ words, no protection

It's one of those nights for L ever since he has experienced you. Sure, it wasn't something he really sought out before, but there was the afterglow and the evident feeling of his mind being refreshed after a good session with you that he had come to appreciate the benefits of sex. He needs a quick reset, and he's quite sure you'll help him with it. Hopping off of his swivel chair, he makes his way to your side of the office.

"Y/N come with me, please,” He briefly glances at the other Task Force Members who were going about with their own duties. "I require your assistance."

You were in the middle of organizing files and have been looking for an excuse to get away from the boring menial task so as soon as L calls you out, you don't even care that some of the folders fall off the table when you leave your desk. He needed your assistance, and you knew exactly what he meant.

His lips find yours immediately after the door to his room closes. L holds your face close with both of his hands, palms flush against your cheeks, fingers caressing the outlines of your jaw, the underside of your ear. It’s something he had grown comfortable doing ever since you started being intimate with each other. You notice the faint taste of black tea on his tongue as the kiss grows deeper and then he suddenly pulls back, wide piercing eyes full of want gazing at you.

"My apologies for immediately starting, I haven't even asked properly yet. Would you like to have se-"

"Yes," you reply, cutting him off, feeling your cheeks burn from the blood rushing to your face. "Yes, I would like to. You don’t have to ask every time, silly."

“I know, but obtaining your consent every time is of paramount importance to me.”

“Alright… I mean, it is hot when you ask,” you reach out to rake the strands of hair on his forehead before settling your hand on his cheek. Despite the deep shadows under his eyes and his gaunt features, he was still extremely attractive. L closes his eyes at the warmth of your palm, god, you loved looking at him. You notice that his cheeks are slightly flushed. Seems like you weren’t the only one whose blood was rushing to places.

"Very well, thank you for indulging me," he answers, smiling slightly as he leads you to the bed.

After a few more kisses your clothes come away and L finds himself under you as you straddle him. He has openly expressed how he liked this arrangement because seeing you grind while on top of him was "a very stimulating experience" and "increases enjoyment by a factor of 90%" as he says. You dive into the crook of his neck, your breasts pressing firmly on his chest as you plant gentle kisses along the length of his throat. The feeling teases a sigh out of him that quickly turns into a hiss the moment your tongue starts making contact with his skin.

"Th-that feels.... Good," he says almost breathlessly, his hands firm on your hips as you gently edge your drenched pussy along his hardening cock. 

“You like that?”

"Y-yes, keep going… please…"

He's very vocal when you have sex, extremely appreciative, always telling you what feels good for him and also always making sure you feel good, too, when it's his turn to pleasure you. It's something you liked a lot about him, you never have to guess because he'll just tell you.

L writhes against the irresistible invitation of your wet cunt, finding just the right angle to take you in. He struggles at this for a bit because you've started digging your teeth lightly into his neck. You’re filling his senses right now and for a moment he considers that you might be all he needs, your touch, your scent, your taste. The way your mouth set fire on his skin, your fingers traversing the length of his arms, the way your hair caressed him as it fell over your faces and the faint scent of your shampoo. It’s addicting, you were addicting. The sensations are becoming unbearable at this point and he just wants to bury himself inside you where it's hot and wet and fills his head with something other than cases to be solved.

"I'm going to fuck you now."

"You don't need to say it, L just ah-"

Your sentence gets caught in your breath as he bucks into you, sheathing himself right at the hilt. There's a self-satisfied smile on his face when you look down at him as you straighten yourself away from his neck. He continues to stare at you when he pulls himself out and pushes himself back in, relishing in how easy it was for him to just sink himself inside you because of your sopping wetness, basking in the way your eyelids flutter and face contorted in pleasure.

"You f-feel... Incredible... Keep your eyes open for me, alright?"

"G-god, you’re… Haahn… Cheeky," you respond as his pace starts to pick up and you steady yourself on your arms.

Then, amidst the throes of passion within his dimly lit room, a blaring sound breaks. His ring tone.

There's evident annoyance on his face as he hears his phone. Could there have been something he has forgotten? Or maybe it's an important update? He halts from his motions and reaches down to the side of the bed where his jeans were, taking out his phone and an earpiece.

"Excuse me, it's Watari, I'll be needing to take this call."

"Oh, okay. Would you like me to get off of you?"

"No, just stay quiet for me," he presses the screen to his smartphone to take the call, places it right next to his head on the pillow and wears the earpiece on his right ear.

"Watari, talk to me." His grip returns to your waist, keeping you in place. Work was important, but so were getting you to finish. And since you’ve already started, L figured multitasking would be a good choice.

Your eyes widened as he resumed thrusting himself up into you while he conversed with his handler.

"That's good to know. Have you asked about how they'll be documenting it?"

His dark eyes stay on you as you bring a hand up to squeeze your mouth shut, his pace increasing. Was L really fucking you while talking about an important update in the investigation? Dear god, it's taking all of your concentration not to let a sound out. Your moans are converted into sharp exhales and he looks up at you, severely entertained by the state you were in.

"I advice that a camera should be on each prisoner as they write each other's name, also I might need to think up of a specific hmm," he hums softly, closing his eyes for a moment as he feels you clenching around his cock, "gesture for them to do to for further proof that it is indeed the pages from the notebook that executes them."

Seeing him get distracted for a moment instills some mischief in you and you lean down towards him, kissing his lips briefly before your tongue sought out his neck again. 

“Two can play that game,” you purr directly into his left ear before licking the shell-like structure of his helix.

L's breath caught in his throat as he listened to Watari's reply on the other end. He hears you giggling softly, his hold growing firmer around your hips as he thrusted himself deeper into you.

"Good. Could you please confirm which UN officials will be present for the viewing?"

The saltiness of his sweat fills your tongue as you slide it firmly along the groove of his neck. You could feel him struggle to keep his composure, his motions becoming erratic.

"Well," he exhales a quiet and ragged sigh before he continues speaking. "Kindly resend the invitation citing how extremely important their presence would be for the viewing. It is for their benefit also. We're going to need as many of the representatives if not all of them," his eyebrows knit as he pulls himself together, feeling your teeth graze the sensitive length of his throat. "To witness the notebook's capabilities. Yes, they can send a proxy, as long as there’s a representative."

It was honestly, extremely hot how L's still able to speak in his usual monotone and complete sentences even while you were in the midst of fornication. You trail your tongue further up his neck, into his ear again where you nibbled on his earlobe. He swallows a groan back as he feels your warm breath and mouth on his ear, his hips continuing to buck into you.

"Alright. Call me again when the rest of the representatives respond and the schedule is confirmed. Thank you."

The call ends and you whisper into his ear.

"Y-you're a menace, L..."

"Says the person who, ahn, made it more challenging for me to speak," he replies, his thrusts faster. "I could, mmh, feel that you were enjoying it as much as I was, you were, haah, contracting around me every time I spoke..."

You lean away from L's neck to look at him, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, eyes dark and glassy, mouth hanging open as he draws a breath every time he pumps his cock into your dripping pussy. He’s an electrifying mess right now, and the sight of him is enough to get you close to coming undone.

"Y-you're just so-oh, hot,” you manage to whimper out, muscles straining. His thrusts were desperate now, too, fingers digging into your sides. “F-fuck... L... coming..."

"Me too…” he cranes his neck forward to you, beads of sweat trickling down his temples. “K-kiss me right now, please..."

You meet his lips again in a heated kiss, tongues lapping each other up as he practically lifts himself off the bed to plunge himself into you as deep as he could go. Your moans are muffled into his mouth, knuckles turning white as you squeeze the pillowcase around his head, toes curling on his bedsheet as you feel him pulse right inside you filling you up, your walls contracting around him. L groans heavily into your lips, arms now wrapped so tight around your waist that it almost seemed like you were a part of him that he needed so he could keep himself together. You shudder into each other, savoring every second of blissful release.

A string of saliva connects you both briefly as you pull away and he eases himself back down on the bed, arms keeping you tethered to him, breathy sighs filling the corners of his room as your nerves lull into composure.

"I might need more than one round to clear my head,” He says after a few seconds of catching his breath. “I'm still thinking of work for some reason."

"No shit, Sherlock, you just took a call. So much for mixing work and pleasure."

“Ah, well, I didn’t want to interrupt what we had already started. It all worked out in the end, didn’t it? And you enjoyed yourself, too.”

“Good god, you’re impossible.” 

L chuckles briefly at your statement, a sound he seemed to reserve only for moments with you. Smiling down at him you take his phone from where he set it on his pillow and hand it to him.

"Don't take any more calls for the night, as much as that was extremely exciting earlier, it's not safe for work," you say, reaching for the earpiece on his ear and dropping it off to where his jeans were.

"Ooh, word play."

You share a quiet laughter as he manipulates the settings on his phone. He then tosses it to the side and invites you to kiss him again by pressing your back down towards him. He was still laughing when your lips met, so instead of kissing him deeper, you pepper his face with kisses instead. There was this giddy feeling beyond the afterglow that he couldn’t place yet but as you held his face in your hands and continued to peck his cheeks with your lips, all he knew was that this was a moment he needed. And that you, in all that you were, desired him just as much as he did.

[honeytonedhottie]

giving urself princess treatment⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

princess treatment feels AMAZING when ur receiving it from others, but when ur receiving princess treatment from yourself, the feeling that u get from it is unmatched. no one can love u better then u can love you ✨

YOUR SPACE ;

turn ur space into your own palace. keep fresh flowers in ur room and keep ur space clean and tidy. surround urself with beautiful things for a beautiful mind.

light sweet smelling candles, invest in ur space bcuz we spend a lot of time in our bedrooms so turn that into a sanctuary.

NEVER SAY NO TO DESSERT ;

i dont like the term "guilty pleasures" because why should we feel guilt for things that bring us pleasure? like having ur cute drink of the day or having extra dessert? let yourself indulge in what u love. everything in moderation ofc but dont deny yourself something like that. you're a princess.

cute pastries

fruit with honey

rich teas and milks

indulge in sweet treats like fruits with honey, or frosted cupcakes with sprinkles. stay sweet~

INTENTION AND DESIGNATION ;

have a designated space where u do _ activity. or have a designated cup that u drink ur favorite tea in. putting intention into the things that u do helps u feel like a princess.

also have intention with the things that u say and the things that u continuously think every single day bcuz as we all know "our thoughts manifest"

have good posture

say ur affirmations

use sweet smelling lotions and perfumes on your body, intentionally sleep 8 hours a night and have a designated time for a nap bcuz a princess needs her beauty sleep.

"I DESERVE IT" MENTALITY ;

you deserve that new dress that u want. you deserve whatever ur manifesting. YOU DESERVE IT. you deserve everything good in your life and dont believe anything or anyone who tells you different. when you think of what you deserve you should only think of the best.

with that being said dont deny yourself your desires especially if u have the ability to give it to yourself (which u do)

remember how deserving you are of the good things in life. you deserve to feel the sun on ur skin, you deserve to be loved by yourself, you deserve to take a bubble bath.

LISTEN TO BEAUTIFUL CLASSICAL PIECES ;

listen to classical music or better yet, pick up an instrument that seems magical to you. maybe learn to play your favorite pieces on the piano, or learn how to play the harp.

ATTITUDE ;

offer your help when u have the capacity to do so, give out compliments and smile at people. be nice!! helping others when u can is a beautiful thing that a princess would do.

know that you are a princess and move accordingly. since u know that u deserve the best dont settle for anything less then the best. be willing to walk away from whats considered the "norm" for something better.

BE WILLING TO GO THE EXTRA MILE ;

be willing to do the extra things in order to make ur life easier or more enjoyable in the near/far future. have your own back!! when ur willing to go the extra mile, you'll reap more. bcuz ur not mediocre ✨

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

hiiii, omg i would absolutely adore more of vampire rhysand fics, especially from that universe you created with them all vampires, will there be more? maybe when reader is turned, she can finally take both azriel and rhysand👀👀👀 or maybe to explore rhysand's relationship with her maybe nesta or someone from her family sneak in to the ball to steal reader back but rhysand is like nu uh tf

those are just some of the ideas that popped into my head, i love your writing and your smut💖

You must be psychic because I had literally just opened up a Word Document to try and write another Vamp!Rhys fic but couldn't figure out where to start!

I've got some ideas, and was thinking about doing some Monster Themed Fics for Spooky Season (More Vamp!Rhys + Bat Boys, maybe a Werewolf or Demon AU) if I can get my thoughts in order enough. Until then, pls enjoy a possessive!vamp!Rhys ;)

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Mine

Content Warnings: Slight SMUT, Possessive!Rhys, Blood and Gore

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“I’m bored,” Rhysand says by way of greeting, as he throws his lythe body onto the chase across from where you sit, curled up in a reading chair in the library.

 The sun sets behind you, the golden rays peeking in through the blackout curtains that usually remain closed during the day. Most of the horde sleeps through the day, meaning, if you let your body’s natural rhythm guide you, you have the entire manor to yourself. And of course, you use most of that time to peruse the thousand year old vampire’s massive collection of books. There’s so many organized on the floor to ceiling shelves you’re not even sure you’re promised immortality will give you enough time to read all of them--that doesn’t stop you from trying, however.

The vampire lord remains in the shadows of the library, the crack of sunlight just far enough away to not burn his otherwise unbreakable skin. Sometimes you think it’s a shame he can only go out at night, while it’s true he looks his best under moonlight, the golden hue of the fading sun makes his bronze skin glow like a god. You’re tempted to set down the book in your hands and climb into his lap, unbutton the already half open shirt and run your tongue over every golden inch of him. Time has not dulled the need you feel for him, even after all these months, he’s still as tempting as he was the first time you laid eyes on him. 

“There are a number of things you can do in this manor,” you say, ignoring your instincts and going back to the fantasy romance you’ve been devouring for the last hour. In truth, the smut on the page before you might also play into why your mouth is practically watering at the sight of him. You’re right at the good part, and your mind is torn between finishing the chapter and indulging your own fantasies with the very real, and very eager, vampire before you.

“Not entertaining enough,” he whines. 

Your eyes still on the page as you try and think of something to offer him. He hasn’t been able to throw another ball in nearly a month, not after a group of vampire hunters had come rolling into town. Their presence had been tiresome and even Azriel, for all his talents had not been able to figure out who’d tipped them off and brought them around. Rhys had initiated an indoor ban on the whole horde just to keep everybody safe. That meant for the most part, everyone had been living off of sheep’s blood and well, you. Mostly the sheep’s blood though. Rhys had threatened to keep you locked in his room, for only his enjoyment if Azriel didn’t stop leaving so many bite marks in your thighs--his favorite place to feed from you apparently. There were more than enough bite marks across your throat to give the others pause before they tried to drink from you these days. And it hadn’t helped that Cass had snuck out and nearly been caught, drinking from a barmaid in an alley three nights ago. Everyone was on edge. 

You glance up at him over the top of the worn pages in your hands. He keeps an arm thrown over his eyes, as if, even the little bit of sunlight filtering passed is enough to hurt him. Aside from that, he lays with one long leg tossed over the back of the couch, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned, the swirl of ink across his chest on full display. His dark hair is tousled, falling messily over his forehead. He had to have come directly here from his bedroom.

You look back down at the paragraph you were reading, the spicy scene practically leaping off the page at you, then back up to him as you bite your lower lip in thought. It’s usually him that initiates your interactions, him that dictates how and where  you take him. You don’t mind. Truth be told, you love being able to let go of everything and let him dominate you in whatever way he sees fit. It is the height of your pleasure, knowing he could so easily break you, and yet he doesn’t. You think meeting him might actually have put some pieces of your soul back together, rather than shatter them further and you love him all the more for it. And now, in that freedom, you can’t help but wonder if there are still other things to explore?

“We could play a game?” You suggest, voice softer than you mean it to be. Neither of you have ever talked about switching things up. Why mess with a good thing, right? But he’s here, asking, and the idea is literally in your hands as you speak, like fate prompting you to try something new and exciting. It can’t hurt to ask, right? He’s never denied you anything before.

Rhys spreads two fingers over his face, so you catch a glimpse of one, gleaming, violet eye. A grin spreads across his handsome features, fangs glinting in the scarce few rays of sunlight left. There will be nothing but starlight here soon, the plain of existence made solely for him. The others may live in the dark, but it is Rhys who thrives in it. “I’m listening.”

You draw a shaky breath. It’s just a question. No harm can come from a question. But how exactly do you suggest… this? You glance down at the pages again, trying to see if they even gave it a name for you to offer him, but there’s nothing but the promise of pleasure blurring across the pages.

Gathering your courage, you unfurl your legs from beneath you and cross the distance so you can climb onto his lap. Those thighs might have been made just for you, muscle shifting to let you get comfortable as his hands settle on your hips. He sighs contentedly, like this is something he’s been missing as you settle your weight against him.

“I was reading this book and these characters are…” you scrunch your face, trying to explain without sounding crass and failing. A blush works its way up your cheeks as you shove the open book into his hands. “Maybe you should just read it.”

He takes his time, tongue slipping out to wet his full lips as he reads. You count every breath he takes in the silence, watching his face with rapt attention to try and gauge what he’s thinking about it. He’s a master of schooled expressions, always collected and together, but after all these months, you like to think you know his tells. Yet, as he reads, there is no gleam in his eye, no obvious indication of arousal from where you sit over his hips. There is nothing but careful calculation as he reads--and maybe rereads, judging by the time it takes him--the pages.

Finally he closes the book and sets it down on the floor. “You’re suggesting we do that?” 

It’s hard to identify if that is amusement or irritation in his voice and you find your heartbeat quickening regardless of which it is. “I-if you want.”

“That’s not what I asked, Little One,” he tuts, hands resuming their rightful place on your hips. His thumbs stroke gentle circles into your skin, a move that can turn either teasing or cruel at a moment's notice. 

“I don’t know, you said you were bored. I thought maybe, you know, since we haven’t had a ball in awhile you might want to…” the word sticks in your throat and you swallow as the intensity of his gaze pins you in place. “You know… hunt.”

His eyes light up at the word. “And you want me to hunt you?”

Your thighs clench involuntarily at the thought, a move that doesn’t go unnoticed in the slightest. He grins wolfishly, gaze pinned to where your hips rest over his. He could have you right here, like this and he knows it. All it would take is a couple rocking motions of his hips, a slide of his fingertips beneath the thin silk of your top, teasing up bare skin until he can play with your breasts and you’d surrender. He could drink his fill and take you just as you are, right here and now. But there’s no challenge in it, no fun to be had, and he wants you to tell him you want it. Want him like that.

You’d be a liar if you said you’d never thought about what he would feel like if he let loose his control and showed you just how much a monster he was capable of being. You knew that even if he lost his usual composure, he would never hurt you. Even his basest instincts would balk at the thought of causing you pain. If you said you wanted it, he would make sure that you enjoyed every minute of it.

“Yes,” you say softly.

He sits up, swinging his legs onto the floor, moving you with him. His hands slide over your hips to your ass, squeezing playfully as you squeal in surprise over the sudden shift in position. “What are the rules to this game then?”

Your heartbeat quickens in your chest. You’re actually going to do this.

“I want a ten minute head start,” you say slowly, mind spinning. 

He hums as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Done. What else?”

“No going past the gardens.” There is enough yard between the manor and the perimeter walls that you could still feel like you were outside without risking an encounter with a hunter. 

“Agreed,” he kisses the opposite corner of your mouth.

“If you catch me-”

“When I catch you,” he says, lips pressing to my chin.

“If you catch me before the end of the hour,” that gives him a total of thirty minutes before the clock chimes, “then…” It’s not like you’ve never talked dirty before, but still, your cheeks are a deep set of red as you say, “then I am yours to do with what you wish.”

His eyes gleam, fangs glinting as he leans back and grins like he’s already won. “And if I say I want to be so deep inside you that every sorry hunter for miles will know your mine regardless of where I find you?”

You clench your thighs again, or attempt to, this new position in his lap doesn’t give you a lot of room to do so. “If you can find me.”

He slides you effortlessly off his lap, but you find, given the nature of the way he’s looking at you, that your legs feel weak already. “You should get going. You’ve only got ten minutes, Darling.”

You waste precious time leaning down to capture his lips in a quick kiss, but you don’t care. Every kiss, every touch is worth the lost time. He is a promise of endless time, of boundless freedom and new adventures, time is never wasted with Rhys.

He pulls away with some difficulty. “I’m still counting,” he warns.

You grin as you turn and sprint out the library, leaving the doors wide open as you run. It occurs to you now that you’ve never actually seen him hunt outside a ballroom. There’s a lot of strategy to those hunts, as you’ve observed, but he’s never had to chase anything. He’s like a spider, waiting patiently for his prey to get caught and stuck in his web for him to devour. You don’t actually know how fast or strong he is. He certainly has a heightened sense of smell, but how heightened?

You know you want to make it outside, just to let him feel like he’s getting out of the house, but going straight out the back door would be too easy. You run up the stairs to the second floor instead, then into one of the many empty rooms and unlatch the window. This might waste more of your precious time, but still, you’re curious to know if he’ll save time and run right out the door, or if he can actually follow your scent. 

Carefully, you climb onto the roof and pick your way across the slanting tiles, until you reach the side of the manor where tree branches reach for you. The gardens outside the estate are massive, their own little forest, and with the gates closed, the gardeners haven’t been around to trim the trees. Branches that would normally be clipped to keep the leaves from collecting on the roof have been allowed to blossom and you find a sturdy one and nimbly walk across it like a balance beam. He may be the expert hunter here, but you spent years outside the Spring Estate, back when your parents were still alive, exploring the massive gardens and climbing the trees. Until your Governess had dragged you back by the ear, yelling about your ripped skirts and scraped knees. Hardly the lifestyle of a lady, they’d said. You couldn’t care less now as you climb, hand over hand through the dense leaves, moving from tree to tree. This is familiar yet different, you are far more free here than you had ever been back home.

Anticipation sits hot and heavy in your lower belly as you move. It’s hard to tell how much time you have left and you need to decide if the plan is to just keep moving or to hunker down and hide in wait. 

When the trees start to thin, you finally clamber down onto the damp floor below and take a good look around. There are certainly plenty of bushes to hide under, but that feels… boring. 

You glance over your shoulder, the trees blocking out the moonlight that has now replaced the earlier sun. Shadows cling to the trees providing ample cover, for both you and the predator you know is coming. 

You bite your lip. You want it to be a challenge. So you keep moving, ears straining for any little sound that might indicate your ten minutes is up. Every rustle of leaves makes a shiver run up your spine, heart thundering beneath your ribs. It’s a heady sort of rush that makes you laugh as you break into a full on sprint, wind tearing at your loose hair. 

This is freedom. Unbridled and unrestrained, there are no limits on what you can do or want, and right now, you want exactly what he promised you.

You slow to catch your breath, the trees thinning as you come closer to the hedge maze on the far side of the property. There’s usually a whole slew of string lights bobbing overhead, so partygoers can see past the towering hedges full of roses and attempt to find the bubbling water fountain at the center of the maze. It’s a showstopper when lit, but right now, it is dark and unyielding and you inch your way towards it with more than a little trepidation. It would be a good place to make him walk through to get to you, but some of the hedges are so thick and overgrown it blocks out the light, and you do not have the night vision of vampires, not yet.

A twig snaps behind you and you jump with a hand clamped over your mouth to keep from screaming as you turn to face the noise. There’s enough moonlight to see by out here, but there is no familiar shape stalking towards you. There’s nothing there at all but the trees and the maze at your back.

You give yourself a little shake to calm your nerves as you inch backwards towards the opening of the maze, still anticipating Rhys’s sudden arrival. One step back, then another, until you can almost feel the shadow of the hedges against your back. It’s a degree colder within it than outside of it.

The first bit of darkness covers your entrance.

And it covered the hiding place too, because you hadn’t seen anyone or anything within the maze until a firm hand clamps over your mouth. Surprise makes you scream, the noise muffled beneath the weathered palm as a strong arm wraps around your waist. 

How the hell had he gotten behind you?!

Hot breath fans your ear as he puts his lips to your ear. “Scream, and you’re dead.”

That’s not Rhys’s voice at all!

Panic grips you and you have just enough presence of mind to fight, digging your elbow into the stranger’s soft gut, throwing your head back into his shoulder. You twist and claw and bite down on the hand covering your mouth so hard you taste blood.

“You little bitch!” The stranger snarls, his hand slipping off your mouth.

You don’t have time to spit out the blood as you scream, “RHYS!!!” As loud as you can.

The stranger grabs your hair and spins you, face scraping over a cluster of thorny roses that cuts open your cheek as you fight to keep your footing. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, another rough set of hands grabs your arm and yanks, pulling you deeper into the darkness of the maze. 

“Get off me!” You shout, your game forgotten. There is nothing but wild panic in your blood as you claw and punch at the hands that pull you deeper and deeper into the maze. 

Rhys can find you in here, right? He knows this isn’t part of the game?

Blood trickles down the wound in your cheek, following a trail down your neck and chest as your head whips around to try and get a good look at your attacker. He’s not much taller than you, but he’s twice as large, his arms made of thick, corded muscle. A spiderweb of scars travels up the bare expanse of his right arm, but he has no other defining features you can see in the darkness.

The second remains in the dark as they drag you through the maze. They must have been here awhile, if they know their way through it. In no time at all, you find yourself at the maze’s heart, the fountain that’s usually so dazzling at parties remains full of stagnant water and dead leaves. Sitting on the lip of it are another two men, one carrying a sword and another wearing a bandolier full of wooden stakes. Hunters.

Your mouth dries, heart skipping a beat. No no no! This can’t be happening! How’d they get past the gate? Rhys had it made by some local witches, it was supposed to be spelled to keep hunters out!

“Y/N?”

The world narrows in to the sound of that voice, as the body attached rounds the fountain. The sliver of moonlight cuts through the overgrown shrubs, highlighting the swatch of blonde hair, carefully tied back from a face that looks so similar to your own. 

Though you have no fangs of your own, you pull your lips back in a snarl as Tamlin draws nearer. “You did this?” You hiss at your brother.

He looks older, tired. Emerald eyes framed by dark circles. It’s been months since you’ve seen him. Months since he sent someone to tell you not to bother coming home since you’d ruined yourself with Rhys. Based on the stories you’d heard, he’d trashed the manor in a fit of rage when he’d found out he could no longer auction you off like a mare to be wed and bred by some stuffy, old baron or count.

He takes you in, nose crinkling as he spots the hickeys littering your throat. You’re not wearing anything more than a pair of lounge shorts and a silk top, an outfit that had felt appropriate a moment ago but now, based on the judgment and leering of the hunters, feels poorly out of place.

It’s an effort not to try and cover yourself, to stand there, blood still dripping from your cheek and keep your chin up.

“Where is he?” Tamlin demands. 

Shit. Shit. Shit! Of course he’s not here for you, he’d made it clear you were as wanted as a wadded up gum wrapper. He--they--are all here for Rhys. 

“Who?” You play dumb, trying to buy time. Rhys is walking right into a trap and if you don’t think of something quick…

“Don’t play dumb!” Tamlin snarls. “I know you’ve been whoring yourself out to that blood sucker!”

He can’t know that Rhys is the town’s vampire, there’s no way. Every person that leaves the manor is compelled to forget everything they saw. The whole horde is meticulous, Az has even followed people home to ensure the protection of the den. 

When you don’t respond, he says, a little gentler this time, “Tell me where he is, Y/N, and I will consider this whole mess a compulsion on his part and not hold it against you. We’ll go home and find somewhere safe for you to live. There’s a temple that will take in ruined women…”

You’re seeing red. “Nobody fucking ruined me! It is my body! What I do with it is none of your business!”

He frowns. “Nesta thought you might have been compelled, I didn’t want to believe that you were so weak minded that it could happen to you, but now that I see you…”

Nesta. Your stomach twists itself into knots. She was supposed to be your best friend, and yet she had gone to Tamlin and he’d called the hunters. She must have seen Rhys drinking from you that first night after all. In her rush, she’d pissed off Cass, who had been so distracted with her leaving he’d distracted Az from following her home. She’d gotten out of the den knowing what they all were and Tamlin had spent all this time summoning these hunters. 

The betrayal stings worse than the cut on your cheek, your eyes burning despite your attempts to keep it all bottled up. You can’t cry here! Not in front of them. The four hunters hover near the exits, blocking your escape, but keeping watch for Rhys all the same. They all have stakes. They’re all clearly fighting men, all capable of taking on an unsuspecting vampire. 

“Don’t do this, Tam,” you whisper. If anything happens to Rhys… If they get their hands on him because you suggested going outside the manor, you’re never going to forgive yourself.

“You forced my hand!” Tamlin snarls, advancing a step towards you. “You went and made a mess of things as always! If mom were still alive she would have keeled over and had a heart attack from the strain of having you for a daughter.”

The words hit like a slap. He’d always been good at that; when he couldn’t use his size and strength, his words were just as sharp as a blade, and he’d used them to keep you in line for years. Even now, the freedom you had so desperately craved feels like it’s slipping through your fingers. You feel your shoulders hunch, chin dipping towards your chest. He’s always been so terribly good at making you feel small and useless and so terribly unwanted. Even now, your own flesh and blood isn’t here to make sure you’re alright, he’s here to prove himself a hero by killing a vampire. Your vampire.

Figures, as soon as you’d found something to love, Tamlin found another way to rip it from you.

Seeing a weakness, Tamlin stalks towards you, his footfalls heavy in the damp earth. He reaches out a hand to grab you, but before he can so much as brush a fingertip over your arm, his body flies backwards like it’s been tossed by an invisible hand. He hits the statue guarding the water fountain so hard the old angel’s head falls from it’s stone shoulders. 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Rhys snarls so loud the ground shakes. He’d come in silently, stealthy as a cat. The power that radiates off him is nothing like the demure courtier you see in the ballroom, there is nothing subtle or charming about this Rhys. There is only cold, unyielding rage as he moves around you faster than your eyes can track. You don’t even have time to warn him about what the hunters are armed with before he uses his teeth to rip the throat out of the first man. Blood splatters across his face as the hunter falls. Another blink at the second falls, his heart still beating from where Rhys holds it in his fist.

The third hunter has just enough time to slide a stake out of its sheath and lunge, but Rhys is so much faster and stronger, there is no contest. He snags the hunter’s wrist, snapping the bone so hard his wrist twists backwards, the stake now aimed at the hunter’s heart. His own momentum keeps him moving forward, even as he screams in terror, and he impales himself on his own stake. Rhys hurls the body into the thorny hedges, leaving it to bleed out as he turns to face the fourth and final hunter. 

It's the one that had grabbed you initially, his thin lips pulled back in a sneer as he flips two stakes around in his large hands. 

“You think you can waltz into my domain,” Rhys seethes. There’s an eerie calm to his steps now, blood dripping from his fingers, splattering the trampled grass. “And try and take what is mine?”

Rationally, you know you should be terrified of him like this--this is who he really is, not the courtly mask and disarming smiles you know, this is a full-fledged vampire in all his glory--but you’re not. Not even a little bit. If anything, the sight of him makes you feel like you can breathe again. 

“I’ve killed worse things than you,” the hunter spits. “You won’t even be a challenge.”

Rhys cocks his head like he’s thinking, a grin spreading across his face. His fangs are longer than you’ve ever seen them, poking into his lower lip, where the first hunter’s blood still lingers. “Is that so?”

He takes a small step forward, and though the hunter’s fingers twitch around the stakes, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink. He stands still as a statue, his chest barely rising and falling. Almost like he can’t move at all.

Rhys reaches out and plucks the stakes from the hunter’s hands like he’s taking a toy from a belligerent child. The hunter doesn’t move; doesn’t speak in his own defense. 

Rhys lifts the stake to get a better look at it in the moonlight. “These are poorly made,” he tuts, right before he jams it between the hunter’s eyes. The man falls, still completely immobile.

“You’re a fucking monster,” Tamlin hisses from where he’s still struggling to get back to his feet. 

Rhys slides the hand not dripping blood into his pocket, appearing bored as he puts a boot on Tamlin’s shoulder and pushes him back down into the mud. “Humans are so very dull.”

“Yet you keep my sister like a fucking pet!” Tamlin snarls, trying to rise again and losing the battle as Rhys’s heel pushes down against his shoulder until the bone snaps. “You compelled her into being with you and have been keeping her here against her will.”

You stare at the two of them. Rhys is holding back now, toying with Tamlin--the brother that had locked you up, had insisted your Governess cut your meals in half to keep you thin and desirable for a suitor; the brother who had ignored your wishes your whole life and had stolen almost every bit of happiness you had tried to carve out for yourself. Only one of them is the monster here.

“Nobody compelled me into staying,” you hiss. “Nobody compelled me into doing anything! I chose it.”

Tamlin tilts his head to look at you, despite the pain flashing across his face. “He just used his powers to freeze a man in place, you’re too stupid to know if he used them on you.”

Rhys moves his boot from Tamlin’s shoulder to his wrist, heel crushing down until the bone splinters, the resounding crack echoing through the maze. “Try that again,” he dares. 

Tamlin’s howls of pain have somehow not drawn everybody else outside, but you are relieved to see it. As much as you want him out of your life forever, you’re not up for watching them all devour him like a turkey at a Sunday roast. 

You pick your way around the mess of bodies until you can grab Rhys’s hand, the blood now cold and sticky over his palm. You do not balk from it. This is still your Rhys. He is still what you would choose, if you could go back to that first night on the dancefloor. Bargain or no bargain, you would have come back time and time again, to be with him and this family you have made for yourself here. This is the life you want, messy and full of monsters.

Rhys glances down at your joined hands, yours so small and delicate against the mess of his own.

You intertwine your fingers. “Please don’t kill him.”

He reaches out with his free hand to run a thumb over your ruined cheek, checking how deep the cuts are. “Why not?”

“Can he be compelled to forget about all of us? Can you make it so that we never existed?”

“Y/N!” Tamlin screams. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I could,” Rhys admits. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to be with you,” you say confidently. “As a human or a vampire.”

Tamlin tries to move out from under Rhys’s boot but gets nowhere.

“I want him to no longer have control of my life. I want to be free to choose where I go and who comes with me. I am angry at him. I’ve been angry at him my whole life. But… but I don’t want him dead.”

Rhys nods, then brushes a tender kiss over your forehead. “It’ll be done then.”

Azriel appears from the shadows then, as if he’d been hovering somewhere in the maze just in case. That intense hazel gaze sweeps over you, taking stock of your injuries before he hauls Tamlin to his feet. 

Your brother still tries to fight it, but his right arm hangs limp and twisted at his side, and even if he was whole, he’s no match for either of them. 

Rhys takes Tamlin’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, holding him in place with just those two fingers alone. “Any last words, Darling?”

You flash your middle finger at Tamlin, “If you come back through these gates, I’ll hunt you down myself.”

“Vicious,” Azriel praises, tongue running over his lower lip in appreciation to this new side of you. 

Rhys keeps his attention pinned to Tamlin. “You’ll return home. You’ll forget this vampire business. You went out and got drunk and got your ass handed to you by the barmaid.”

Azriel snickers at that. 

You’ve seen that barmaid, she very well could hand Tamlin his ass, the story will be convincing. 

“If anyone asks about your sister, you’ll tell them she ran away to be with the people that love her. There is no need to look for her. She is happy.”

And you are. Your chest warms at the words. You are happy here. You will always be happy here, with this new family you’ve found. 

Tamlin repeats the words in monotone, like they’re being forced out of his head.

“You’ll have to find and compel Nesta too,” you say softly. “She saw us that first night.”

“Leave it to Cass to put us in this mess,” Azriel grumbles. “I should make him compel her for the trouble.”

“He’d just turn her for shits and giggles and then we’d be in bigger trouble,” Rhys responds as he releases his grip on Tamlin. Your brother’s head sags to his chest, unconscious, and Azriel drags him out through the back gate.

“It’s done?” You ask, watching them leave.

“It’s done,” Rhys confirms. 

You turn to face him again and stretch up on your toes to kiss him gently on the lips, despite the blood. “Thank you.”

When you try to pull away, he slides a hand into your hair and pulls you back for another, ravenous kiss. “Are you all right?”

“A little shaken,” you confess, reaching up a hand to brush a tendril of dark hair off his head. “But alright. Are you?”

He slides his arms beneath you and picks you up like you weigh nothing. “Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll feel better.” 

In no time at all, you’re back safe inside the house, perched on top of the counter in the bathroom attached to his room. Candlelight flickers to give him a better view of the gash across your cheek, now forming a bruise beneath the split skin. 

“It doesn’t hurt too bad,” you assure. “Just stings a little.”

He frowns as he pokes at it, then brings his wrist up to his mouth and sinks his fangs into a vein. “Drink,” he orders, bringing it to your lips. “My blood will heal you.”

You stare at him for a moment. It has become an easy thing to accept that he likes to drink from you. He needs blood to live and you want him to keep on living, it is an easy exchange--and one that always ends pleasurably for you at that--but this is different. It’s not necessity. He’s offering because he wants to. Because he cares about you.

“Please,” he says gently, pushing his wrist a little closer. “Let me take care of you.”

You wrap your hand around his arm as you bring his wrist to your mouth, unsure of how to go about this. He holds you steady, pressing his wrist to your lips, guiding you through it like he has everything this far. His blood is a coppery tang in your mouth as you run your tongue over the two puncture marks in his wrist and swallow it down. 

By the time he pulls away, the stinging in your cheek has subsided. 

“It’ll taste better once you're one of us,” he explains as he grabs a towel and cleans the remaining blood off your skin.

You watch the slow pace in which he moves now, all that rage and strength once again contained within the confines of courtly manners, but there is a stiffness to those usually graceful motions. You can almost taste the unease coming off him as he uses the same towel to clean the blood off his own face and hands.

“You’re not changing your mind about turning me after this mess, are you?” 

He tosses the towel in the hamper near the door and comes to stand between your legs. You have to tilt your head back to look at him as he cups your face in his large hands. “Never.” The finality in his tone leaves no room for doubt. “I never wish to be parted from you again.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. This bargain between you is fun and exciting, and truth be told you are more fond of him than you’d ever dare say out loud, but you had always assumed those budding feelings were one sided. This was a game and a bargain at the end of the day, what was one human in the span of eternity to a thousand year old vampire? Daring to believe that you meant more to him was not a luxury you had let yourself indulge in.

“And I thought…” he shakes his head and kisses you gently at first, grounding himself in the reality that you are safe and in his arms, but it turns rough and desperate as he considers what he’s saying. “I thought I might lose you.”

You run your fingers through the silky strands of his hair, knocking a few loose leaves that had gotten caught when he’d come running after you. 

“If anything were to happen to you, I don’t…” he shutters as he slides his hands beneath you and lifts you off the counter, carrying you towards his large bed with ease despite the shakiness of his breathing.

 “I’ve killed thousands of hunters. I have drained entire covens of witches and packs of werewolves.” He lays you down in the center of the black silk sheets, body propped up against a dozen pillows someone who is undead doesn’t really need, his large frame kneeling over yours as he kisses you again. “I have fought and won hundreds of battles and taken down an army of other vampires. Bloodshed is in my nature. It is woven into the lifeblood of creatures like me. I am used to the killing, but I have never enjoyed it. I avoid it if I can, but tonight, when I saw those hunters around you…”

He steals another kiss, tongue sliding behind your teeth to try and claim your very breath as his weight settles between your legs. “I wanted to take my time. I wanted to make them pay for putting their hands on you. I enjoyed making them suffer. And I’d do it again.”

Perhaps the long lasting effects of being locked up has altered your brain chemistry, because such outright aggression should be a warning sign to run, but it makes heat flare in your chest instead. This is a dangerous amount of possessiveness and yet, you enjoy it. It is nice to be looked after so deeply.

“And I know that I should turn you,” he continues. “You have more than fulfilled your part of the bargain and after seeing those hunters today, I should give you an edge over them, just in case, but…” Another kiss, his hands slipping beneath your top to skim your sides. “But to turn you I have to… You have to die to become a vampire. How am I supposed to do that, knowing that it’ll hurt, even for a moment? Knowing that I will have to be the one to do it?”

Your fingers drift to the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping them open so you can touch him. “It doesn’t have to be today. We never set a time.”

“I saw that scratch on you and almost went out of my mind,” he says as he leans back enough to let you push the shirt off his shoulders, but as soon as the article is off he’s right back on top of you again, kissing you like he won’t ever get enough. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips. “I have never loved a human before. I have never been so conflicted before. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I’m just not ready to turn you yet either.”

Your hands skim up his tattooed torso, tracing every curve of ink up his chest and shoulders until you can cup his cheek. “You’re not going to lose me. Like I said, I choose you. I want to be here with you. Like this or otherwise. I am in no rush.”

He tilts his head and kisses your palm. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you assure, using your free hand to grab him behind the neck and pull him down for another kiss. “I trust you. When the time is right to turn me, we’ll know. It’ll feel right.”

His lips pull away from yours just long enough to catch your breath before he starts trailing kisses along your jaw and neck. You let yourself relax beneath his ministrations, eyes drifting shut. It no longer feels strange that this has become the place you feel safest; this is right.  

“I love you,” you say softly.

He all but purrs into your throat, the kiss he was placing there more forceful than the last. “Careful, that’s a dangerous thing to say to an immortal.”

“You said it first,” you counter, hands sliding off him to reach for the hem of your shirt. You want it off, no clothes between your bodies, the warmth of him like this seeping into your skin. There is no telling how different it’ll feel once you’re no longer human, you want to relish every experience you have while you still have it.

He nips teasingly at your throat, fangs just barely scraping your skin. Not enough to feed, but just enough to remind you they’re there. “What power you wield over me, Little Human.”

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” you reply.

He laughs at that, the sound rich and deep, and you think you might do just about anything to hear it again and again. “Be careful how you wield it, I would do anything you asked.”

“Anything?” You ask with a grin, a few things coming to mind. 

He nips at your throat hard enough to leave a bruise this time. “No questions asked.”

“So if I have other scenes in my books I want to try out…” 

“What a dirty little mind you have,” he tuts. “And when we didn’t even get to finish the first one.”

“That really is a shame,” you muse. “I was looking forward to it too.”

“Another night then,” he promises, his voice low and dangerous in your ear. “Tonight I want to take my time with you.”

And how can you say no to those kinds of promises?

[ireadwithmyears]

How each member of the bad batch would be with a visually impaired significant other (short imagine’s/headcannons

Word count: 5.4K

Pairings: the bad batch ex female reader (individual)

Tags/warnings: some are suggestive, mostly domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injuries

note: look, it’s the epitome of self indulgence. I wrote this solely because I’m blind, and have never seen these ideas discussed when it comes to our beloved boys. However, I recognize that the majority of people reading this will not have shared this experience, so this is why I am adding a disclaimer/reminder to tell you that blindness is a spectrum, and the majority of us have at least a degree of useable vision left, so that is why I continue to use visual language/descriptors like look or watching. That being said, I hope you enjoy these, I had so much fun writing them, and if you have an idea for a specific scenario so I can do more of these, or another particular clone who isn’t a member of the batch, please let me know, and I would be happy to write more

Hunter🩷 

Hunter is the best at planning dates when it comes to keeping your accessibility and comfort in mind. 

If he wants to take you out somewhere, he’ll always go and scope it out beforehand, analyzing things that might not make it an enjoyable experience for you. I.e. if the lighting is too low and will obscure any of your remaining vision. If the music is too loud and will make it hard for you to effectively communicate with him. He knows that both of these things, especially when they’re working in tandem, can make you feel on edge and anxious, and that’s the last thing he wants you to feel when he’s taking you out on a date.

He will always ask the establishment about things like accessible or braille menus, or, if you happen to have a guide dog, seating that will have the space to accommodate and be comfortable for all of you.

If the menu isn’t accessible for you, he will always give you a heads up beforehand, using his datapad to pull up the menu on the holonet so that he can help you familiarize yourself with it, and you can decide what you want before you get there, taking a lot of the stress and pressure off of you because you don’t have to rush.

He wants you to feel cherished, loved, and safe when you’re out and about with him. So if you are going somewhere that’s particularly busy or crowded, he will also adapt himself. 

He’ll keep you close, whether it’s with your arm tucked securely in the crook of his elbow to guide you around, or his hand gently placed on the small of your back, letting it rest there so that you know he’s right there with you.

He never plans on getting separated from you, but if, by some unforeseen circumstance, it happens by accident, he has a plan for that too. 

If you’ve got remaining vision that is useable, he will intentionally wear bright, contrasting colours to make him easier to spot, even when he’s a distance away. 

If you don’t have any remaining vision, he’ll wear something like keys that jingle, or an article of jewellery that makes a distinct sound as he walks so that you can tell when he’s approaching. 

Regardless, every time you go on a night out, he will take the time to describe his appearance to you in detail, his general physical description, what he’s wearing, so that if, for some reason, you do get separated, you know how best to describe him to someone, so that they can locate him for you and help you make your way back to him

His enhanced senses have become innately attuned to your normal patterns and rhythms, and if he notices any rapid fluctuation or change be it with your breathing or heart rate, indicating that the environment you’re in is causing you stress, he’s whisking you away, taking you back home, despite any of your protests. He knows you’re just fighting him because you feel guilty about potentially messing up the night, which you absolutely are not.

He will not let you feel that way for long, because when you’re home, he is determined to make you feel like the beautiful, treasured, and wanted human being that you are.

He orders your favourite takeout food. He’ll lie you down on your bed, surrounding you with soft blankets and pillows, gently and tenderly beginning to caress and massage the tension from your tensed up shoulders and back, partly because he feels like he might have inadvertently been the cause of it being there in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” you try to apologize. “I know you really wanted to...”

“Shh,” he quiets your apology, a hand coming up to softly brush a finger against your lips, resting his forehead against yours gently. “Meshla,” he breathes, unable to help the small smirk of amusement that pulls at the corners of his mouth as he observes, taking note of your breath audibly catching in the back of your throat as his finger, slow and slightly teasing, begins to lightly trace the edge of your bottom lip.

He presses his lips to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss as he affirms, “this is all I want,” he breathes in a whisper close to your ear that immediately has your whole body erupting in goosebumps.

“You,” he continues, his voice a low, husky rumble against your neck as his lips press, warm and deliberate, directly where your pulse flutters beneath them, pulling a soft, yet audible gasp out of you, that makes his lips curve up into a smile that you can feel against the skin of your neck.  “Are all I want.” 

He spends the rest of the night taking his time to prove that to you, in every way that he knows how.

*

Tech🩷

He takes note of every single bruise you get on your legs from bumping into shit all the time. 

You’re blind, it’s just an occupational hazard. You might not even notice that you have one, but he certainly does, and he’ll take care to notify you of every time you accumulate a new mark in your collection.

“There is a bruise directly above your left knee,” he observes, gentle fingers tracing over the mark with a soft frown marring his features. 

He naturally has picked up on using the language that is most helpful to describe the location of something visual to you. You didn’t even have to ask the first time you were on hands and knees on the floor, feeling around for one of your shoes. He didn’t point, and say “it’s over there,” which is just instinctive habit for most people. Instead, he had a used more specific directives like “behind you, on a slight diagonal to your right.”

“How did this happen,” he asks softly now, placing your hand directly on top of the blossoming mark on your leg.

You give him a half shrug and a rueful smile. “I don’t know,” you admit, honestly puzzled. “It happens all the time.”

From then on, he observes you closely, quickly coming to the realization that there are things that are just harder for you to look out for, and, just as quickly, doing his best to rectify each one. He’s easily able to identify a pattern of cause and effect that lead to your many bruises, bumps, and small every day accidents, and rather than being over bearing and cautious with you, he just figures out a way to remove the root of each problem entirely.

Each step on the Marauder’s gangway is suddenly marked with a long strip of brightly coloured tape at each edge, so that you can more confidently move down the steps without having to fumble to find the edge with your foot.

Low sitting caf tables in the middle of the living room, with sharp, jagged corners jutting out are suddenly pushed up against the wall, so that you don’t have to be careful while stepping around them, trying not to hit your leg off of one of them.

He makes sure that any overhead cupboards in the kitchen that are hard for you to notice until your head is colliding with their open doors, are kept securely shut, recalling a particular incident when, whilst putting away dishes, your head had caught on one of the cupboard doors, large bump blossoming on your forehead, just barely missing your eye. He had frowned, gently holding an ice pack to the swelling bump, deciding that from now then on, he would put any of the dishes away that needed to go on the top shelves. He wouldn’t budge on this, even when you tried to argue.

“Cyar,” he had said, voice stern, even as he gently took you by both of your shoulders. “I understand your need to be able to do things independently, and I respect it greatly. But, as much as you can make a light about getting bruises on your legs from these little incidents. Your head is much too important to apply that same lightness to, and I will not compromise on that so please, let me do this for you.” he had leaned down, barely brushing his lips over the bump on your head in a caring, affectionate gesture, and that had made your resolve completely crumble.

He’s also hyper aware of your systems and ways of organizing things, and it has become a habit for him to make sure that it is maintained. 

Shampoo and conditioner bottles that look almost identical with exception to the labels that isn’t much help to you are always set in a specific order for you to find in the shower. You always leave things like your wallet and your cane in the same place, and if anyone messes with these orders, it can really throw you off.

If anyone does touch or move any of your things, regardless of how insignificant, without telling you first, Tech will find out, and, especially if it’s one of his brothers, will thoroughly scold them for it, ensuring that they understand why somethings so small could be really frustrating and disorienting for you, and makes sure that they never do it again.

If you read braille, this man learns it for fun one day on a whim, and he doesn’t even tell you about it.

He’ll put away your groceries for you one day, and then you’ll be searching for something like a dinner ingredient, and find that he’s attached a braille label to the box, with completely correct use of the six dots that form the language.

When you confront him with it, he only shrugs, adjusting his goggles with a slightly confused expression.

“You sound surprised,” he observes with one raised eyebrow. “In a practical sense, this was a logical solution,” he continues, clearly unfazed by your display of shock.

“That’s not fair,” you pout, leaning against the counter and folding your arms. “If you’re going to learn braille, then you at least need to teach me some Mandoa,” you challenge.

“I was not aware that you were interested in the subject. But that is an agreeable request. What would you like to know?” He asks, looking at you questioningly.

“Like,” you bite your lip, considering, tilting your head in curiosity. “What’s that word that you always call me?” You ask. “It starts with an S? I think? Or maybe a C...c cyar?” You say, suddenly uncertain and cringing at your own pronunciation.

He straightens, suddenly grateful that you’re unable to see the blush that’s crept into his cheeks as he answers evenly. 

“Ah, yes, the word that you were saying is correct. Cyar... it means, love... or beloved,” he answers, voice going soft as he catches your hand in his, almost absently pressing his lips to the back of your knuckles briefly as you stare at him, surprised.

“You ... you love me?” You ask, hopeful and voice clearly bewildered. The smile that pulls at the corners of your lips lights up the whole room. 

Both eyebrows arch as he looks down at you, because now he’s the one who’s confused. When he responds, his voice is far less confident and sure than it usually is. It holds almost a shy, completely uncharacteristic timidness, which conveys the genuine honesty in his words when he speaks.

“Well ...cyar. of course I do. I thought it was obvious.”

*

Echo🩷 

Echo, unlike most people, understands all the aches and pains, mental and physical, that come with being disabled.

He’s sat with you on the bathroom floor, your head resting against the cool linoleum of one of the tiles on the wall after a concert. You had come home to find your head throbbing from the after affects of being surrounded by a combination of extremely loud music, a screaming crowd, and strobe lights that made you wish that you didn’t have any remaining vision at all. 

Your eyes were shut tightly, and  your heart fluttered with surprise and gratitude when, with his one functioning hand, Echo, movements slow and meticulous, carefully began to undo your hair from the tight updo it had been forced into all night. There he sat, fingers so, so gentle as they ran through your hair, undoing the tangles and soothing away some of the tight ache that had gathered at the back of your head. 

He’s careful to stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt the little bit of peace that you had found. The only thing that fell from his lips were gentle breaths and soft murmurs of “oh, sweetness, s’okay,” lips pressing the lightest kisses to your flushed cheek, the side of your aching forehead, until the painkillers had finally, finally kicked in.

If you’re a cane user, he always has his eyes peeled for the little bumps and cracks along the sidewalk.

He’s seen what happens when the tip gets caught in one of them, when the handle inevitably jabs against your stomach or ribs and the immediate discomfort on your face that follows.

He also sees the bruises that are left there afterwards, and as much as he loves gently pressing his lips to each of them, reassuring you that he’ll kiss them better, he’d rather them just not be there in the first place.

So, he always watches out for them, giving you an ample warning on ones that your cane could get caught in so that you can move it out of the way. 

He takes you to a holofilm, and you both don’t realize that it’s not available with audio description until you’re in your seats and the headset doesn’t work. He immediately turns to you, giving you a reassuring smile and offering his hand, saying “We can leave, if you want. If you’re not going to get anything out of this, we can go, and we’ll find something else to do.”

You decide to stick it out, rationalizing that you’ll still be able to get something out of the film, if not the whole story, and besides, he can catch you up on parts you didn’t understand after it’s over. 

In the end, it’s still worth it for you.  

You finish half of a bag of popcorn before commercials are even over. You’re intrigued by the movie for almost half of it, and then finally, you spend the rest of it passed out with your head resting on Echo’s shoulder, only for him to wake you, slightly chagrined, when the credits are rolling.

When you’re out of the theater, you walk together hand in hand down the street. He apologizes profusely, saying that he should have done more research. You try to laugh it off to reassure him that it was fine, because you just had one of the best naps of your life in that theater. When it’s clear that that doesn’t help, you’re turning to him, sighing with a small frown.

“Echo,” you say with a small shake of your head. “I’m the one who should be sorry, not you, love.” At his look of bewilderment, you continue. “You do so much for me already, and I’m just so, so grateful for that. It’s not always something I feel like I can repay you for.” You look away, ashamed. 

Because it’s true. He has his own set of issues and lingering problems from the injuries he sustained at the citadel. You can encourage him to do things like his physiotherapy exercises that ensures that his cybernetics are working in tandem with his body. But you can’t actually help him with them, whether it be with making modifications or repairs. It sometimes makes you feel a bit useless, because he helps you so much and you feel like you can only help him so little, and you feel like you’re just adding to his already overflowing plate sometimes.

“I know there could be easier people for you to be with,” you confess, voice quiet.

Echo stops dead at the street corner, catching your wrist to stop you from moving forward, and turning to fully face you with his brow creased in a frown.  

“Oh, Cyar’ika,” he says, voice soft, reaching out a hand to tilt your head up so that you’re looking at him. “Now who put that idea in your head, ner kar’ta?” he whispers, gazing down at you with pursed lips.

Unexpected tears spring to your eyes at his gentle tone. The truth is that you can’t place this feeling on a singular person, though people have contributed to it. Family members have made comments in passing, strangers who look at the two of you and immediately begin to judge from there own preconceived notions and outside opinions. It’s society at large, who has made you feel like your blindness is a burden to the ones you love. 

You don’t know how to say that, though. So you remain silent as Echo leans down, dropping a lingering kiss to your forehead as he whispers, “I don’t need you to make my life easier, cyar. You make my life meaningful, and that, to me, is more important. 

He rests his forehead against yours, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. “Your needs don’t make you a burden, cyar’ika. I want you to remember that. I want to make sure that they are always being met. It’s the least I can do, you understand?”

All you can do is nod, your heart in your throat. 

The next time you go see a holofilm with him, and the audio description isn’t available, Echo is prepared this time.

He still offers to leave, but when you refuse, he has a plan. In his own time, and on the occasions when you both have been watching something at home, he always makes sure the described video settings are on, for your benefit, and when he’s alone, for his.

He’s observed closely, listening and carefully paying attention to how the narrator’s go about describing things. So, when the movie starts, he leans over to you, keeping his voice low and quiet, beginning to describe to you what’s happening onscreen, careful to never interrupt any dialogue.

You stare at him, more than a little surprised. “Echo, are you going to do this for the whole film?” You ask, caught off guard and delighted all at once.

He gives you a quick nod. “Yes,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Now, be quiet and let me do it.”

True to his word, he does, staying close to you and keeping his voice quiet, so as not to disturb anyone around you. If someone still tries to shush him or gives him a dirty look for talking in the theater, he glares at them, in only the way that Echo can, until they stop.

This time, you stay awake during the whole film, watching intently, and listening to echos every word as he is meticulous in describing the visual things that you’re missing. In spite of all of the things that are different in comparison to your last date, one thing still remains the same.

You still finish the movie with your head resting on his broad shoulder, and he still looks at you like you’re the centre of his world.

*

Wrecker🩷 

The first time you make a blind joke about yourself in front of him, he’s terrified. 

Instinctively, he starts laughing, but then, registering your words, he immediately cuts himself off, not wanting to offend you, and is concerned that you’re being mean to yourself, which he will not allow. 

When you only snort at his reaction, playfully nudging him and explaining how it’s fine, because you have to make fun of the things that you are unable to change, and how it’s actually a mark of self love if you have the ability to laugh at yourself, slowly, he begins to understand. 

Soon enough, he not only readily laughs at your self deprecating humour and blind jokes, but at one point, he ends up slipping out one of his own before he can stop himself.

Again, he’s immediately apologetic and regretting his words, but when you throw back your head and laugh heartily, he feels a little less insecure and soon enough, you both have the ability to crack blind jokes with each other without missing a beat, to everyone else’s chagrin and fond amusement. 

He decides that having the ability to make you laugh, getting to watch your eyes sparkle with amusement and hearing the sounds of your joy is music to his ears, and is one of his favourite things. 

Wrecker is your number one protector. Not in a toxic, over protective way.

Even though he’s only got one functioning  eye, chances are he’s still got more vision than you, so he’s taking it upon himself to be the working set in this relationship, meaning he’s always watching out for you.

If you’ve got a guide dog, the first time he encounters it, he might have gone to pet it, but, before he did, he sees the do not interact sign, and stops short, quickly pulling back and apologizing. 

He asks questions, just to make sure he understands why it’s important, and after you explain it, he fully respects the boundaries and never forgets them, to which you are immensely thankful.

He doesn’t understand why you’re so grateful for him just doing the decent thing, until you tell him that a lot of people understand that you’re not supposed to pet the dog, but will either do it anyways, thinking that if you can’t see them doing it and they do it silently, you won’t notice, or they’ll talk in a distracting way to the animal, which is sometimes worse, and equally as distracting for the dog to work through.

This angers him, that they would take advantage of your blindness in such a disrespectful manner, and because you’ve explicitly told him that distracting your dog could potentially put you in danger, under the right circumstances.

From then on, he’s always watching.

If someone is petting your dog while it’s working, or trying to distract it, he’s right there, towering over them and glaring with his arms crossed, not so subtly pointing at the do not pet sign until they back away, stuttering and flustered.

If a child runs up to pet it, he’ll much more gently intercept them, crouching down on the ground to quietly explain to them the rules. In your experience, children are often much more respectful than adults, and watching him interact so kindly with them melts your heart every time.

Wrecker is tall. Standing at 6 feet six, it makes him not the most ideal guiding companion.

If he’s guiding you himself, sometimes, unintentionally, his elbow might knock against your head, for which he is immediately aware of, and instantly apologetic. 

He will always stop, large hands gently cradling the sides of your face as he looks you over, worried that even the slightest bump from him could leave a bruise. Regardless of what he finds, though, he’ll always lean down, dropping a kiss to your forehead with a soft, “m sorry, meshla.”

His solution to this problem, however, is a tad bit unconventional. 

When confronted with a situation where it’s just more efficient for him to guide you, for example, a street blocked off by construction, taped off areas and pylons everywhere, instead of offering you something like his hand or his wrist to hold, he simply reaches down, scoops you up into his arms and carries you over his shoulder until you’ve both cleared the obstacles together, you letting out a surprised squeak and giggling all the while.

Wrecker finds you beautiful, every day, all the time, and he is constant with his reminders of that.

As a blind person, it can be more difficult to coordinate a whole outfit, look, hair, and make up. He is so appreciative, and loves if you do that. But, if you’re one of those blind people who never learned how to do make up, who isn’t as confident in their sense of personal style, and you feel a little bit self-conscious about how much, or how little, in your opinion, effort you put into your look when you’re going out on a date with him, he will quickly assuage your fears the minute he catches wind of them.

He’s very good at detecting those days where you’re not feeling good about your appearance, just intuitively sensing when you’re having a bit of an off day, and when you could use a reminder of how beautiful and precious you are to him. He knows he can’t magically change your mind.

But he can  tell you about all the things he finds attractive about you, every day, if you need that reminder.

He’ll tell you of each one, each part of you that he finds beautiful beyond belief, while taking the time to softly caress and kiss each one, with whispered affirmations of “Such a pretty little thing,” and “You’re perfect, cyar, absolutely perfect.”

And if that’s not enough, he’ll keep going, keep moving downwards until he can look up at your beautiful face, watching from in between your parted thighs as your lips form equally beautiful noises for him.

*

Crosshair🩷 

It isn’t that Crosshair doesn’t want to help you. It’s just that, honestly, he’s a little bit hesitant to, in the beginning, fearing that he might overstep, because he places such a high value on choice, and respects your independence and autonomy to much to question you and your abilities.

He trusts that, if you need his help, you’ll come to him and ask. He also trusts that you’ve been living with blindness for a long time, maybe even since birth, and you’re aware enough to know your boundaries and limits, trusting that you’ll advocate when you need him to help with one of those limits.

Just because he doesn’t help you as much in the physical sense, does not mean he isn’t your number one advocate, because he absolutely is. 

For example, if you’re a guide dog user, and you both are going out together using a ride sharing app. If the driver refuses to let you in they’re speeder because of your service dog, he will wait patiently for you to explain, analyzing every micro expression of the driver and knowing when they’re still not listening to you, and he will step in without hesitation.

Wearing his most menacing glare, and in a voice that is deadly calm, he will absolutely read them the riot act. He knows every law regarding your guide dog, and knows just how properly to phrase them in a way that will make the driver scared, usually when he mentions the 5000 credits fine they could be sued for not denying you access 

He’s also keeping his eyes out to make sure that no one distracts your dog, and isn’t afraid to directly confront anyone who tries, saying something snarky like, “You know, maybe you’re the one who needs a guide dog, if you can’t read the don’t pet me sign that’s right in front of your face,” paired with a signature eye roll.

They always back away stuttering, and it always makes you laugh, even as you gently rebuke him, saying “Cross, that was a bit rude.”

He scowls, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him as he responds.

“And you, sweet girl, are too nice,” he purrs lowly against your ear. But, with the way that he begins to nuzzle at your neck, you don’t really think it bothers him that much.

If you’re one of those blind people who feels like asking for help is just burdening other people with your problems, and would rather risk facing the consequences by trying to do something yourself, rather than ask for help, he will find out, and he will not be pleased in the slightest. 

Your stubbornness is something that he loves about you. But if it has a tendency to go too far, especially if you’re putting yourself in harms way, that adoration will quickly turn to frustration.

For example, one time, you both were staying at a place that had a glass topped stove. 

These things are so inaccessible for blind people, it’s not even funny. But rather than admit defeat and let him cook dinner, you decided that you could figure it out, and gave it your best shot. 

Your best shot ended with you trying to line up the pot with the burner, and very quickly, receiving a searing burn on your hand from touching the heat. 

You had not anticipated it getting that hot that fast , and as you quickly pull your hand away, tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you let out a pained hiss.

““what are you doing?”

He had materialized behind you from seemingly out of nowhere, voice a silky, yet tensed coil as he reaches around you carefully, quickly flicking off the burner before long, dextrous fingers wrap  around your wrist, still gentle, even as he insistently pulls your hand away from where you’ve been clutching it to your chest, eyes keenly examining the burn with a soft frown on his face.

Wordlessly, he guides you over to the kitchen sink, hand on the small of your back, turning the water on cold and carefully placing your injured hand beneath the stream. 

Only then does he come to stand in front of you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders, his expression hard as he looks down at you. 

“What were you thinking, cyar?” He grits out, voice almost a growl as he tries to understand. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I could have helped and prevented this,” he gestures to your hand. “From happening.”

You blame the trembling in your voice on the lingering throbbing ache in your hand.

“I’m s sorry. I I thought that I could figure it out. You were busy, and I didn’t want to bother you B because I’m scared that I burden you with all the help I need sometimes and.”

“Stop,” he cuts you off in one quick, decisive syllable, and you instantly fall silent.

He tilts your chin up with one hand, guiding your eyes to look at him. His lips form a thin line when he sees the glimmer of unshed tears there. When he next speaks, his voice is still firm, but there is an underlying gentleness and softening in his tone. It has lost its hard edge, and it’s protective bite.

“You are not a burden, to anyone, but especially to me.”

“But,” you try to interject, but he easily silences you, taking your face in both of his hands and cradling it gently.

“Shh, cyar, listen to me,” he says, his voice a quiet command.

“If you are a burden, then you are my burden. In the same way that I am yours.” He takes your uninjured hand in his, relaxing his fingers against yours,  allowing you to feel it’s tremors.

Oh.

It’s been so long since his hand has shaken like this. He’s worked so hard to try and work through this particular trauma, and though it hasn’t completely gone away, it only begins to tremble during moments of high stress. You flush with shame, realizing that this moment of high stress is completely on you.

“I know what you’re doing, and stop it,” he says, voice stern, squeezing your hand in a silent warning. “Look at me, cyar’ika,” he continues, voice softening.

When you do, he continues. “If we are each other’s burdens, then we take care of each other, together. Do you understand me?”

You nod, actually stunned into complete silence at his proclamation.

“Good,” he says, voice softening further. He leans forward, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, fingers gently caressing the side of your neck as he pulls back.

He gives you a playful nudge as he smirks.

“Don’t ever try something like that again, cyar,” he quips with a scowl. “Your eyes already don’t work, and if you lose one of your hands, you’re completely fucked.”

All the levity of the moment vanishes, and it ends with your face pulling into a smile, a soft laugh falling from your parted lips as he watches you, eyes filled with adoration.

[twsted-kinks]

Malleus x Reader: Biology Nerd (Part II?)

Fluff & NSFW things (slight angst?)

>ageless and minors dni<

Not really a part two just the same Yuu hanging out with Mal.

Reader is gender neutral but this is very self indulgent so they be fat, hairy, and may come across as masc. Also reader is Yuu.

Content Warning: cultural and biological differences leading to situations, assuming things are normal for another culture, accidental sexual stimulation and arousal, sexual tension, trying to hide arousal, Yuu being a nerd about Malleus's biology, Yuu touching Malleus innocently and Malleus getting off on the touching, is Yuu oblivious or is Yuu insecure and doesn't believe they're attractive enough for Malleus to want to fuck them?

Cuddling. There is so much cuddling. Just about every night Malleus would be floating outside Yuu's window, holding pajamas and a toothbrush. This occurred again and again, until Malleus's absence at night was finally noticed, and Sebek freaked out. The half fae's screams woke up the entire dorm. After that incident a lot more attention was put on Malleus's whereabouts. At first Sebek and Silver offered to join Malleus at the Ramshackle Dorm, but Malleus preferred his time with Yuu to be private. Lilia, being able to pick up on Malleus's little crush, found a solution. Have the child of man stay over at Diasomnia. As long as there weren't lectures the next day, Malleus and Yuu could stay up late doing whatever they wanted, and Sebek and Silver could check in as needed.

So, a new tradition started where, 1-2 times a week, Yuu would sleep over and spend the night in Malleus's room. Again, most nights were spent cuddling, talking, and enjoying each others company. Yuu was one of the few people where Malleus can have his scales, tail, and wings out and act normally around him. Well, as normal as Yuu can be. Though, Malleus's favorite thing about these visits was how Yuu would take care of him. Brushing his hair, polishing his horns, massaging his ears. His ears. It took Malleus using every bit of self control he has to remain still when Yuu touches his ears. Caressing the shell, rubbing the lobe. Malleus forced himself to take deep breaths and bite his lips to prevent himself from letting out a moan.

Malleus didn't have the heart to tell Yuu just what they were doing, how sensitive his ears are, how his cocks emerge from his slit. This became such a common occurrence that Malleus has become an expert at hiding his bulges, tucking them away, hiding them behind a pillow, excusing himself to the bathroom to take care of himself before returning. Did Yuu notice any of this weird behavior? Not really no.

Anytime Malleus did something a bit off, Yuu just assumed it was something either normal for him or just a fae thing. Malleus's dilated eyes, his awkward shifting with a pillow in his lap, the flush of his cheeks. Each thing Yuu could explain away. The eyes? Well, it is kinda dark in here. The pillow? Probably an erection, but that's just something the body does. The flushed cheeks and ears? Malleus isn't used to affection. Plus, if he's hard of course he'd be embarrassed! Yuu doesn't want to make it worse by pointing it out.

And so now they're here again, in Malleus's room. Malleus sits on his bed, pillow on his lap, and Yuu sits behind him. The human gently pulls away loose dead skin from the dragon fae's scales.

"I must thank you, child of man. Removing my shedding is often an inconvenience I'd rather not deal with. However, you've made my usual ordeal an enjoyable experience." Malleus hums and flexes his wings.

Yuu giggles. "You don't have to lie and make me feel better. I know you can just magic it off you."

Malleus is quiet for a beat before responding. "That is true. Removing my shedding is not an issue for me. It is a simple task. However, I did not lie when I stated you make the process enjoyable."

"Hm, yeah that checks out." Yuu focuses as they pick dead skin from between two scales. "Social grooming is a common behavior in social species. Makes sense humans and fae enjoy it."

Malleus thinks for a moment. "Yet you are the one always attending to me."

Yuu peels away the last bit of dead skin from Malleus's dark scales. "That's because I enjoy it too. It gives me something to focus on, something to do with my hands while I'm with you. Plus, you're really interesting to look at."

"Interesting to look at?" Malleus asks.

"Of course! Like-" Yuu runs their hand up Malleus's back to rest where the far's wings connect to his shoulder blades. "Even just your back is beautiful! There are multiple points that move and contract in a layered network of muscles in a way that is both very similar yet also drastically different to what I know. I can feel the movement every time you move your wings. And the way your scales shift and move over these muscles, an interlocking pattern that moves so perfectly on top of everything. It makes me think about the evolutionary process leading to this, and biological ancestry, clades, and categories of different spaient species here. How can I not enjoy myself?"

By the time Yuu finishes their thought, Malleus, tips of his ears dusted with pinkn has turned to face them. "Such an eye for detail for things I think nothing of. You explain your fascination with such passion. You truly have an admirable mind, child of man."

"I mean, you're the same way." Yuu responds.

"I am?"

"Your love for architecture, especially gargoyles. I admit there are times I don't understand what you're talking about exactly, but I enjoy listening to you. You always light up and it's really cute to see."

"Cute." Malleus let's the word sit in his tongue. "I should be used to the way you speak of me by now. But, I do agree. I enjoy listening to you even when I do not understand your words."

Yuu chuckles. "I'm glad to hear that. I know I tend to ramble. You can stop be to ask questions if you don't get it though."

"It is the same for me. You are free to interupt me with questions." Malleus responds. "And I do have a question for you."

"Oh? Shoot."

"What you said earlier about social grooming. Is it common for it to be... so one sided?" The fae asks.

"Well, it can depend on a lot of things, but no. Usually it goes both ways." Yuu answers. "What? Feel bad about me being your personal masseuse?"

Malleus's gaze travels along the human in front of him. Here he is, in nothing but his sleeping bottoms while Yuu sits in an oversized long sleeve shirt and sleeping shorts that stretch around Yuu's thighs. "That is part of it."

"And the other part is?"

"Our bodies are quiet different." Malleus notes. "Perhaps I wish to study yours as well.

"Oh..." Yuu is silent for a moment, shrugs, and then pulls their shirt over their head. "Yeah, that's fair."

Malleus does his best to keep his face calm, biting his lip slightly to keep him grounded. Yuu's plush torso decorated in a kayer of dark hair. The fat on the human's chest look so perfect, as if the soft flesh could fit into Malleus's hands perfectly. The human's soft stomach that Malleus has laid his head against again and again. He can't help but imagine how it would look, bouncing back and forth as the fae buries his cock at a brutal pace into the human. Malleus holds the pillow closer to his lap.

"I know I'm not that impressive, but, if I get to touch you, it's fair for you to touch me."

"Child of man." Malleus reaches out and cups Yuu's cheek in his hand. "You are beautiful."

Now Yuu's ears are the ones dusted with pink. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better."

"I am not lying." Malleus runs his hand down Yuu's neck and rests at the center of the human's chest. "You find my scales and the inner workings of my muscles to be beautiful. Can I not find your hair and your soft flesh beautiful as well?"

"That's no really-" Yuu looks down and hesitates. "Most people don't. At least where I'm from."

"Then I am glad you are here. I hope I can make you see just how beautiful you are."

[nocturnalpl4gue]

hello hi hello ! i am an enjoyer of samarie and would enjoy headcanons of taking care of her or whatever else you wish to add on : ) youre doing a great service with this blog !

Of course!!! I agree that Samarie needs someone to help her…as a little treat. Hope you enjoy!!!

𝔗aking care of 𝔖amarie ꒷꒦✧🫀˖°

⚰️ At first when you started approaching her and showing more interest she was very hesitant to say the least, flinching at the proximity.

⚰️ However as you started being patient with her like with a scared stray dog, she slowly became more fond of you, always waiting for the moment in the day where you’d ask her how she’s doing.

⚰️ Because of Samarie being very aware of her short lifespan, she doesn’t really take care of herself, at all. You realised that fact once you were able to be at a closer distance, seeing the mats on her hair and her chapped, pale skin.

⚰️ So of course you go on a mission to help her to take care of herself. One small issue, every time you try to touch her hair, face, or body she flinches and retreats away from you.

⚰️ She winces not out of disgust or fear, but rather she’s flustered over someone actually taking care of her and showing it actively.

⚰️ Once she gets used to your touch she becomes quite addicted to it, always yearning for it, for your warm hands against her cheek.

⚰️ Samarie loves when you hold her face if we stay in topic, and leans on your hand much like a cat.

⚰️ She needs help brushing her hair from how matted it can get, so you not only would need to brush it roughly but also clean it up first to remove any dirt or mat. If you wonder how she gets it so dirty, let’s just say her hiding spots aren’t the neatest.

⚰️ So you’re on your way to the bath, warming up some water for her. You ask her if she wants to wash herself and you’ll wait her outside, but she grabs you with an ever so shaky hand, a bit sweaty you could say, by the hem of your shirt.

⚰️ She has very dry and sensitive skin, making it so you’d need to rub the soap carefully. She gets really flustered by this as she feels a tickling sensation when you caress her arms, shoulders and torso.

⚰️ As a little treat you peck her from time to time whenever you seems nervous about this whole thing, making her turn into pudding.

⚰️ Once all is done she will wait for you to get a towel for her, one which you put around her gently. She snuggles in it while looking at you, a bit shaky because of the cold but mostly because she’s in awe over how kind you are.

⚰️ She will let you braid and play with her hair if you’re close enough. You say you braid it because it’s good so it doesn’t tangle that often, but in reality you just think she looks really cute.

⚰️ Ever since you started to make a routine with her she’ll try to be consistent with it for you. She sees the smile on your face when your beloved Samarie looks clean and healthy, ‘it is what she deserves’ you say to yourself, and she couldn’t be happier about that.

⚰️ Even if she struggles she’ll try to help you clean up as well, maybe indulging in baths together, or in doing a facial care routine as a little house date.

⚰️ Sometimes you buy face masks with funny shapes like those of animals, and even if at first she was embarrassed with putting one on, when she saw you she found it adorable and joined you in the fun.

⚰️ Alas it all comes to an end, and as the sky darkens you two get sleepy. You have some food together, sharing stories (well, you tell stories while she listens nodding her head with shaky breaths) and enjoying each other’s company.

⚰️ She likes to sleep next to you, your presence is very calming and makes her brain quiet, indulging in the silence of the night and the warmth emitting from your body.

⚰️ She’s very hesitant to get closer to you whatsoever, afraid that she’ll cross your personal space and bother you. Of course you don’t mind, and you insist on that, making her face heat up.

⚰️ Next thing you know, the Sun has risen, and a lanky Samarie is wrapped around your body latched to you with no intention of letting go.

[the-banana-0verlord]

how are you ? hii ^^, I would like to request for the third year boys I think they are rook, leona, vile, malleus, lilia and trey well with a fem mc who is very bad at studies because she had never attended a school before so this is her Taking classes for the first time and taking exams, that's why she works hard even though she failed several times, she never gives up~ one of her favorite phrases is "if I fail 99 times, I'll continue once more, maybe the 100th will be the winner" hehe <33

again, i apologize for the request taking so long 😅

How the third years would react to a Reader who is bad at studies

Notes: Gn reader, i totally forgot idia existed 💀 Either that or it was a conscious decision.

🦁🦁🦁

🦁Leona Kingscholar 🦁

🦁Studies were never a problem for him. He always passed his exams with flying scores without even trying. 🦁So since everything came to him so naturally, it was hard for him to imagine someone not having the same easyness as he did. 🦁You were at the opposite ends of the spectrum: He didn't care about school yet excelled at it, while you were still optimistic when your scores barely passed the passing note. 🦁You made him care again. He helped you with your studies and you got progressively better. 🦁And it's not just your studies who got better, his also. Because of you, he put effort in what he had to do. Under all his grumpiness, he thanks you for it.

👑👑👑

👑Vil Schoenheit👑

👑Sure, you weren't all that good, but you tried, and in Vil's book, that's more than anyone could do. 👑Also, he's not one to pass the opportunity to help someone become their best selves. 👑So he helps you. The time passed with you is enjoyable thanks to your cheerful personnality. 👑He also enjoys teaching you. Why don't you come around to Pomefiore so he can teach you makeup?

♦♦♦

♦Cater Diamond ♦

♦Of course he'll help you, that's what an upperclassman does! ♦But to be truly honest, most of the "study times" are just you hanging out. ♦But when you actually study, he's not half-bad as a tutor. ♦He's not the best, but at least you can see your grades get a little better.

🏹🏹🏹

🏹Rook Hunt 🏹

🏹What wonderful ardor and persistance you have! Oh, how it makes his heart flutter! 🏹A hunt for a good grade is a hunt all the same, and you have the qualities of the best huntsman. 🏹You never seem to catch your prey, though, so he'll just ahve to give you un coup de pouce. 🏹Not all minds work the same, so maybe yours just works differently than the norm of teachings. 🏹You'll be studying school and he'll be studying you.

♣♣♣

♣Trey Clover ♣

♣He's pretty used to tutoring since the underclassmen in his dorm usually go to him for help or advice. ♣He was willing to help from the start, but your positive attitude motivated him more than the complains of the others he tutored spouted every second. ♣He's in the science club, so that's covered, and cooking always help with mathematics. ♣Yeah perfect teacher 10/10.

🐲🐲🐲

🐲Malleus Draconia 🐲

🐲You're asking him, Malleus Draconia, to help you study? 🐲He should be offended, but he finds it so intriguing and amusing he'll indulge you accept your request. 🐲I mean, there is no one better to learn from than from the best.(He's a very terrible teacher though) 🐲Your positive attitude is also refreshing from the gloomy and terrified faces of his daily life.

🦇🦇🦇

🦇Lilia Vanrouge 🦇

🦇Don't ask him for potion making, but he'll be perfect for teaching history. After all, he was there when it happened. 🦇...Except he wasn't. When XXX thing went down, he was hammered with his friend Jerry on the other side of the continent. 🦇He's still kinda helpful with the big lines, but don't really expect much. 🦇That or he'll put you through Silver and Sebek's training regiment. Don't know which is worse.

***

Hope you enjoyed!

Have a good day/night!

[jessamine-rose]

ʚ✿⚘ Forbidden Fruit ⚘✿ɞ

Welp I was very busy this Kinktober thanks to WHB. More headcanons, anyone?? (*-`ω´- )

Characters:: Bathin, Marbas, Barbatos, Naberius, Satan, Zagan, Astaroth

Note:: Nsfw, pls take note of each character’s paraphilia before reading, MINORS DNI

♡ Bathin usually travels alone, but he is always open to your company. He will prioritize scenic routes and hidden gems, anything to make your journey more exciting. Once the moon rises, the two of you can take evening strolls, compare the night sky to Niflheim’s, and savor each other’s presence in an otherwise unfamiliar place. Not to mention the hours spent in your hotel room—there is a reason why you always share a bed.

♡ Technically, Marbas can undo his restraints during meals, but that hasn’t stopped you from offering your help. Hand-feeding him takes less time, after all, especially with candy or fruit. And it means you can tease him by sitting on his lap, tracing his lips for stray crumbs, getting your fingers sticky with his favorite strawberry caramel. Neither can he stop you when you pull him into a sweet kiss, slipping an aphrodisiac into his mouth~

♡ Barbatos likes to see you at different times of the day. Noon, illuminated in radiant sunshine. Sunset, colored in light and shadow. Night, when your visage is painted in the soft shades of borrowed sunlight. In return for indulging his kink, he will be the one to provide sunscreen and thoroughly apply it to your skin. Now he just needs to coax you into sunbathing with him; the both of you would look beautiful against the roses.

♡ Naberius is weak to pet play. There are many ways to rile him up, from soft headpats to harsh commands to a personalized collar engraved with your initials. And what is the best form of control if not Pavlovian conditioning? All it takes is the sound of his name spoken in your voice, in a stern tone used only during sex, for his animalistic urges to take over. “Hey, Naberius, have you forgotten who your owner is? …Oh? That’s my good boy~”

♡ The easiest way to end an argument with Satan is through makeup sex. Depending on the seriousness of the issue, he can’t help but feel turned on by your wrath—directed at him, no less. He hasn’t even apologized before you’re already at his throat, a slap to his face followed by a passionate kiss. To which he smiles and kisses you back, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. You truly are an interesting human~

♡ Zagan is attentive to your physical mannerisms, which makes it easy for him to gauge your emotions. Every shudder, every flicker of discomfort, spurs him to stop moving and ask if you’re okay, if you need a breather, if he has failed as your lover. Do reassure him, won’t you? His skill is also useful during workouts! He will examine your form, manually adjust your body, and, in a shy voice, propose a final exercise in his bedroom.

♡ Astaroth’s favorite pastime is to read a book while you cockwarm him. The experience can only be described as your personal hell—fleeting touches, the spikes of his leg harness, his velvety voice narrating a tale of dark romance. How long will your patience last? Has corruption ever tasted this sweet? Don’t worry, he promises to reward you once the story is over. A beautiful rose is not without thorns, just like the flowers tainted by original sin.

♡

Still hornii?? Read my other WHB fics <3

Cheers to Marbas and Astaroth getting more headcanons after Dance with the Devil. Can y’all tell how thirsty I was when I wrote their parts?? Huhuhu _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Special thanks to @diodellet for beta-reading this and rejuvenating me with your reaction to Naberius. And to my beloved readers, do rot in the tags/ comments and tell me which devil was your favorite. I cherish your feedback <3

Tag a WHB enjoyer!! @sparkbeast20 @2af-afterdark @dreamii-yume @yanmaresu @pinkaditty @h2o2-and-baking-soda @paradivis @gr0tesquerom4ntica @dobaekki @obeythisass @beelsjuicytitties @binar-es @ushitoshii @sulumuns-dootah @devilmen-collector @jazeswhbvault

[namazunomegami]

emperor!sukuna x imperial concubine!reader

a/n: part 2 of my self-indulging mess. I had a lot of fun writing him and his drabble got finished way before I developed the whole plotline for Geto lol. I'll try to complete Gojo today or tomorrow and Toji is in the works yaaay!!

Also, I'm so surprised my Geto drabble got so many notes in such a short time!! I wouldn't expected people to be remotely interested in my writing but now I'm getting confident.

And finally, I can guarantee that this reader is gender neutral.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated <33

wc: 674, I know, I know, Geto got the princess treatment from me but sometimes less is more <333

cw: historical AU, scheming, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of sudden infant death syndrome, betrayal, accusations of abortion, execution, nudity, mentions of poisoning, suggestive

credits: i used a colored manga panel instead of a fanart but I have no idea who did the coloring so feel free to help me credit their work. And again, my precious @notveryrussian did the proofread, luv ya mwah <33

MDNI PLEASE! I'm gonna find you and kick you in the butt if you do. If you’re not comfortable with dark content or anything mentioned in the warnings just scroll, there's nothing wrong with that.

His mandate of heaven is very different from Gojo and Geto. Sukuna is a ruthless tyrant, he enjoys crushing any nation he deems either threatening or undeserving to even exist next to his borders. His palace is a snake pit, full of betrayal and backstabbing. Executions are frequent and he needs no valid reason to sentence someone to death, he enjoys the bloodshed and the sight of lifeless bodies. You can’t survive that place acting kind and humble. Sukuna specifically torments his concubines physically and mentally for the sheer enjoyment of it.

His court is probably the most competitive. You need to be as ruthless as he is, you need to become a schemer. One of his high-ranking consorts takes you under her wing. She lets you spend leisure time with her, and somehow, she ends up telling you way more sensitive information than she should. She once managed to give him a child, but the infant sadly died days after they were born. She complained about how hard that pregnancy was and that she’s afraid of going through it again, even though she’s attached to him. And not long after this conversation, she fell ill. Retching out everything she ate, her stomach burned and ached. She was so weak her cycle was two weeks late. She trusted you enough to have you fetch her a specific herbal tea to ease her pain and grant her some dreamless sleep.

And that’s the moment you decide you’ll use everything you know about her to cast her down and take her place.

You accuse her that she’s pregnant but wants to abort her baby. Your story is so intricately constructed from all the details you knew that his officials are on your side without hesitation. She watches you horrified, desperately telling him that nothing could be so far from the truth. Sukuna decides to believe in your words and orders for the consort to be executed. Finding pure joy in how she wails and begs for forgiveness. At the execution, he studies your face, every little detail and reaction and you were aware of that. It’s time to impress him. Your face is still, you don’t even flinch when her head is severed by the neck. The eunuchs come for you at night.

He loves and loathes this tradition at the same time. The servants want to protect him, so they deliver you stark naked to ensure you won’t carry any weapons. Fools, as if a weak and trembling creature like you could ever hurt him with a mere dagger or a sharpened hairpin. Yet it makes you look like an offering. A sacrificial lamb. Maybe because you are.

Some primal instinct tells you to balance your inner strength and innate fear of him. Pull back your shoulders, straighten your back, don’t even think to conceal your private parts. Let your fingers quiver and the sheer dread in your eyes seep through. He mocks you. Almost laughs at you while sitting comfortably on the intricately carved shelf bed, wearing a loose bright yellow robe, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. There’s no reason for him to not do this though, he’s a god, the son of heaven, therefore, everything about him is perfect.

The first thing he asks you is if you’re satisfied with your pathetic attempt to improve your position. You don’t dare to tell him that you feel the guilt rotting your insides. He confesses that he was poisoning her meals, he wanted to watch her wither away slowly and enjoy her suffering, but you ruined his plans. He might spare you, you’re a stupid little thing, you couldn’t have known. He warns you that you need to do so much more if you want to be on his good side. You need to be absolutely despicable to earn his praise. Though you feel content having reached your goal and getting to spend a night with him, somewhere deep down you hope you can leave his chamber in one piece or, at least, alive.

[defectivefanboy]

Howl J. Pendragon x Gn!Reader

this is pure self indulgence. No I am not apologizing. No I am not sorry and yes I am a glutton for punishment.

Overall Notes: Stories written on this blog are GN until specified. While this story uses they/them pronouns, and I don't mind female readers on my blog, I do not write for y'all, and if you are a fetishizer fuck off????????????????? ew.

C/W: Angst no comfort. Howl being a low-key asshole, and a man whore. Self deprecation.

Notes: I have been rewatching this movie like a psychopath

Steps to loving a fool...

People will tell you all the ways they fell for a fool and how they loved a fool.

How they whisked them away off their feet with such carefree nature.

But they also recall how it hurt to let them go at the end.

They always say a bird does not belong in a cage

Because there are many steps to loving a fool, but there are only a few key steps you need to keep in mind.

While the enjoyment and wonder of it is exciting at first a person can only take so much before they finally collapse in on themselves like a star.

Step 1: A fool is as free as the wind.

For as long as you could remember he's always moved as if he was the wind himself.

Maybe it was because he could fly and walk? on air

Being with him was like you were floating

God, to be above the clouds with him once again

To feel as free as he does every day of his life

But you've never seen him settle down, even within his own home.

Always adding a new room, or waking up in a new place with new doors.

That amazement you feel when you hear the click of the door and then the new location or sight before you

Oh is that a new book? What does that trinket do?

The fascinated look on his face always captured your attention more then the trinket did most days

His magic never failed to excite you, only brought you more wonder in what he was capable off

Every time he came through the door he always brought something new

Always something new, something that brought change within the castle

Something was always changing.

Step 2: A fool changes like the seasons

Never get too comfortable and never get used to anything.

As cozy as the house was, he was changing it to how he liked at that moment.

It would become a maze of new rooms and halls.

All the more room for him to make a mess.

Sometimes even a new explosion, opening a new window in the castle.

Yet, you can never develop a habit. Can never maintain a routine

Never able to get a schedule down

Never able to understand what he was doing

Never able to even assume what he's doing

Never able to assume you know what he's thinking.

It's only a matter of time before he changes his interest.

Last month it was simple Science

Today? making a plant into a horse

Tomorrow? Only he knows.

Markl, while a good kid, was on the back burner of the wizards mind sometimes

maybe even a lot of the times, but he always made it up to him with long lessons and studies with the boy.

Guess you weren't even on his mind now a days

You can't blame him though

it's not like you had an altitude for magic or anything.

You didn't have any knowledge from a great beyond

You honestly should've known

The first few months were bliss was him

then it became every few days, every few weeks... every few months... every few y-

Step 3: A fool is never shackled down

When was the last time you made a proper friend?

Calcifer and Markl were both a lovely chat.

But, you could only talk about so much within an ever moving home.

Sure, you've made a few acquaintanceships, but never more than that.

You didn't have enough time to make friends anyways

Didn't stay long ever to keep them either

You would leave town as fast as you came in.

Appearing one night then disappearing the next.

And the excitement of it disappeared just as quick.

Realization only hit quicker.

Watching fling after fling after fling after fling after-

What was it that made them different?

Maybe thats why he's always running away

Being around too long would make too much of an attachment

That means commitment

It means it's no longer just him

A fool carries their own burdens, they don't need the burdens of other as well

He already has his own worries

what made you think he would care for yours?

At first he was attentive, the soft grazing touches he gave felt as if he was treating you as fragile glass

Any force and you would shatter

When did you shatter?

Do you remember when you did?

Did he even realize that you did?

Step 4: A fool won't listen to anyone, but themselves

The house was a mess

Covered in waste from failed potions and experiments.

Molded food and trash everywhere, no matter how much it got cleaned

You had told him that witch wasn't good news

You said she was hiding something from him. From everyone.

Everyone could see he was gonna end up hurt

Yet, you were the wrong one

He's was in love couldn't you see

You wanted this to happen, didn't you?

For him to settle down?

You always said to slow down

Why was it an issue now?

If you don't like it why do you care about it?

You shouldn't be here anymore then

"Why do you always incise on being a nuisance?!"

You have over stayed your welcome.

Silence lingered in the room

The ever so witty fire demon was at a lost for words even

All he could do was watch as you turned away from him and walked to your room.

He watched the ground as you walked away and slammed the door.

He was about to let out a sigh before a second slam followed again.

This time a few steps away

"porthaven door..."

He watched the door in surprise, the dial clicking into place.

sighing finally he turned to the stairs

"Calcifer, warm up a bath"

Step 5: A fool only learns after they have lost themselves

He was sure you would be back the next morning

You always came back, even when he was clearly in the wrong

Even when he would spew hateful words at you for the littlest of thing

You always came back

But when morning came, the castle was as still as it was left the night before.

He realized it’s gone too far

The soft cracks in the glass finally broke

that prideful wizard finally began to break

ode to the boy who shallowed a star in exchange for his heart…

who had lost the only thing that filled the space…

[sundeathh]

What about an imagine or hc about aizawa 'n s/o sharing their interests like what they like to do in their free time, books they loved to read etc something fluffy c: thx

I might have gone way beyond your request. But, hey, this is also self-indulgent! Anyway, I loved your request. I hope it fulfills what you had in mind. Sorry for the long delay, but it is done now.

Head-canon  |  Masterlist 

Pairing: Aizawa × GN!reader | Words: 993

Fandom: BNHA | MHA  | Tags: Cute & fluffy

In your rare moments of free time, Aizawa and his significant other would find solace in the simple pleasures of life, embracing their shared interests and creating a warm, loving heaven together.

As you are both avid bookworms, you would often cuddle up on the couch, each engrossed in your own novel. The room filled with the soft rustling of pages here and there, and every so often, you'd exchange a knowing glance, silently sharing the joy of a good story.

Cooking was another shared passion of yours. You would tackle intricate recipes, laughing at your culinary mishaps and celebrating your triumphs with soft cheers and known, loving glances.

Aizawa, surprisingly adept at chopping vegetables, would take charge of the savory dishes, while you would knack for baking meant a never-ending supply of delicious desserts.

Even mundane tasks like doing the laundry or cleaning the apartment became enjoyable when you did them together. You'd playfully argue about the most efficient way to fold laundry or who could scrub the dishes cleanest, all the while secretly reveling in the shared domesticity of it all.

Yet, beyond books and cooking, you found common ground in your love for stargazing. On clear nights, you'd lay a blanket on a rooftop, snuggling close under a blanket while tracing constellations and making up your own stories about the stars.

You also cherished the differences in your hobbies. While Aizawa might spend hours lost in a new mystery novel, you might be immersed in painting or sketching. you'd sit together, companionable in your silence, each respecting the other's passion.

Friday nights were designated movie nights. You'd take turns picking films and introducing each other to your favorite genres. Aizawa's penchant for action movies clashed amusingly with your love for romantic comedies, resulting in an eclectic movie list.

Sometimes, your most cherished moments were the ones where you merely sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the soft hum of your shared existence. You didn't need words to express your love; the presence alone was enough.

And as night would fall and the world would get quieter, you'd have heartfelt conversations about life, dreams, fears, and everything in between. Aizawa, usually a man of few words, found himself opening up more than he ever thought possible. And so did you.

You frequently surprised each other with little gestures of love. Aizawa might leave a cup of your favorite tea by your bedside when you had a rough day, while you would sneak love notes into Aizawa's attire pockets before he headed off to work.

You also respected each other's need for alone time. Aizawa might find solace in a quiet corner, lost in thought or grading papers, while you would pursue your artistic hobbies, creating your tranquil oasis.

On free weekends, sometimes you'd embark on nature walks, exploring the serene beauty of parks and local forests. Aizawa's observant nature meant he'd point out unusual flora and fauna while you captured the scenery through your camera lens.

You also compiled playlists of your favorite songs, making a blend of your music tastes. Whether it was Aizawa's preference for classic rock or your love for indie bands, your shared playlists were the soundtrack of your lives together.

Sometimes, you would also work out together. Staying healthy was an important goal for both of you. You'd engage in light workouts together, cheering each other on during yoga sessions or jogging through the neighborhood. Your laughter would echo through the air as you challenged each other to push harder, engaging in playful competition.

While you were both competitive, you always stuck to the playful part of it. You would indulge in board games on cozy evenings. Aizawa's strategic mind shone during chess matches while you reveled in the unpredictability of card games, creating delightful tension between you two.

Tending to the small garden you both had on the balcony became a joint project. Aizawa had a surprising green thumb, nurturing the plants with care while you added artistic touches with colorful flowers, painted vases, and other whimsical decorations.

Arts and crafts will always bring out your creative sides to life. You'd spend free afternoons painting, crafting, or even knitting, creating personalized gifts for each other or their friends, each piece a symbol of your shared love and content.

Occasionally, you'd embark on more spontaneous outdoor adventures. From impromptu picnics in the park to exploring nearby hiking trails, you savored the thrill of discovering new places hand in hand.

Late at night, you'd lie in bed, discussing your dreams and aspirations. Aizawa would share his goals with his students while you would talk about your artistic and work ambitions. In those quiet moments, you found inspiration in each other.

Random acts of kindness were a must between you two. From volunteering at local animal shelters to leaving surprise treats for your closest friends. Your shared altruism strengthened your bond even further and reminded you of the beauty in giving.

Sometimes, during quiet nights, you'd turn on some slow music and dance around your living room, shedding your accumulated stress and relying on each other's arms.

You often talked about your dream destinations and future travels. Aizawa, who had seen little of the world, would always listen with wonder to your travel stories, your shared excitement fueling your wanderlust.

Together, you planned your future, imagining a life filled with love, growth, and shared adventures. Your dreams intertwined, painting future moments where you continued to cherish each other, hand in hand.

In the tapestry of your shared lives, every moment was a thread that added depth and color to your relationship. You and Aizawa frequently cherished the uniqueness of your bond, celebrating your shared interests and the beautiful harmony you found in their differences.

Your love was a testament to the beauty of a life filled with shared moments and unwavering support, knowing that love wasn't just about grand gestures but the beauty of ordinary moments together.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! Check the fixed post for requests & more details!

[sebstanaddict]

Midnight & The Light

Bucky Barnes!Vampire AU Story

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes is a solitary and powerful vampire detective who works for the London Police to cover up murders done by his fellow vampires. One day he finds his job and himself challenged and tempted by a female detective thrusts as his partner.

Pairings : James Buchanan Barnes x Female!Reader

A/n: this is my very first attempt at writing horror/thriller/mystery genre so please bear with me.

With that said, I'm not really well versed in vampire lore, and the vampires in this story are largely inspired by those in Twilight. So those of you looking for the original type of vampires, unfortunately you won't find it here. But those who enjoy Twilight, might find this enjoyable too.

Oh, this is also set in modern day London where Bucky is British, haha. Although I won't write him differently as I'm not really familiar with the difference between British and American English.

Warning : murder and crime scene depiction

Word count : 4k words

Chapters (1/10) - Might add more

Chapter List >

---

Chapter 1

The narrow alleyway was damp with the remnants of London's ceaseless rain, the stench of rot and grime clinging to the brick walls. In the shadows, a woman lay crumpled on the cold pavement, her throat slashed open. Her skin was pale, almost gray in the flickering streetlight, her eyes staring blankly into the void. She had been a prostitute, someone no one would ask too many questions about, and that's what made her the perfect target.

But the job had been messy. Too messy.

From the shadows, a figure emerged, wiping blood from his lips with a smirk of satisfaction. His fangs glistened briefly as he looked down at his work. It was an indulgence, a feeding that went too far. He had been warned.

Before he could disappear into the night, another figure stepped out from the shadows. Taller, broader, and far more intimidating. James Buchanan Barnes. His icy blue eyes locked onto the vampire before him, and his voice was low, edged with simmering fury.

"Another one, Dorian?" James said, his tone calm but laced with threat.

The younger vampire, Dorian, froze, wiping the last trace of blood from his chin. "She was just a nobody, James," Dorian sneered. "What's the harm? Besides, I needed to feed."

James stepped forward, his hand gripping Dorian's collar in an instant, slamming him against the brick wall. His supernatural strength far surpassed that of the younger vampire, and Dorian winced as the pressure on his throat increased.

"I told you to leave London," James growled. "Last week, you killed someone. I gave you a chance, told you to get out. But instead, you've left me another body to clean up. You think I enjoy this? Cleaning up your mess?"

Dorian's eyes flickered with fear for a moment before his bravado returned. "You've been doing this for centuries, Barnes. What's one more body?"

"One more body brings suspicion," James snapped, releasing his grip slightly. "And suspicion brings hunters. You don't want that, do you?"

Dorian's confidence faltered at the mention of hunters. They both knew that hunters were the only real threat to vampires, and James was right: the more bodies, the higher the risk.

"Leave town," James ordered, his tone cold. "This is your last warning. If I find out you're still here, I won't be as forgiving."

Dorian nodded quickly, his arrogance shrinking in the face of James's authority. Without another word, he disappeared into the night, leaving James alone with the body.

James sighed, crouching down to inspect the woman's wounds. It was a brutal, sloppy kill, one that couldn't be easily explained away. He'd have to make it look like a suicide, another tragic statistic in London's dark underbelly. It wasn't the first time he had done this, and it wouldn't be the last.

As dawn approached, he made sure every detail was in place before vanishing, blending back into the city as if he had never been there at all.

---

The London Police Headquarters  buzzed with the usual activity—phones ringing, detectives grumbling over paperwork, and officers exchanging hurried conversations about the latest case. 

James walked in, his usual indifferent expression hiding the exhaustion that came with centuries of cleaning up after others. He passed through the sea of desks until he reached his own, tucked away in the far corner of the room, away from curious eyes.

He had just settled into his chair when his superior, Captain Harris, approached, file in hand.

"Barnes, another one last night," Harris said gruffly, tossing the file onto James's desk. "Same area. They're saying it looks like a suicide, but something about this doesn't sit right with me."

James glanced at the file, already knowing the details. He had made sure the scene would point to suicide, but Harris was an old detective with sharp instincts. He wouldn't be fooled so easily.

"I'll look into it," James said, keeping his tone neutral.

"Good. And one more thing," Harris added. "You're getting a partner. New transfer."

James's head snapped up. "What?"

"I know, I know," Harris said, waving off James's protest. "You're used to working alone, but the higher-ups want someone paired with you. Someone to keep an extra set of eyes on things. Especially after this recent string of cases. Come on, follow me, I'll introduce you to her."

Her? He thought as he followed Harris. He never had a female partner before. This should be interesting.

The captain stopped at the desk of a young woman who was busy sorting through paperwork.

"Y/n," Harris said, his voice cutting through the din of the station. "This is Detective Barnes, your new partner. James, this is Y/n L/n."

Y/n looked up from her desk and smiled. James was struck by the vivid contrast between her bright smile and the dimly lit office. It was as though a sudden beam of sunlight had pierced the drab, monotonous atmosphere of the headquarters, illuminating everything around her.

"Nice to meet you, Detective Barnes," Y/n said, extending her hand with a warm, welcoming smile.

James took her hand. Despite the gloves he was wearing somehow their connection struck something in him, surprising him. Her smile was like a flash of light breaking through the clouds, and he found himself captivated. For a moment, the surrounding chaos of the office faded, leaving just the warmth of her presence.

"Likewise, Y/n," James managed to reply, though his mind was momentarily lost in the glow she seemed to emit.

The captain's voice continued, but James's attention was almost entirely absorbed by Y/n. Her laughter, light and melodious, cut through the usual tension in the air, making him feel an unfamiliar sense of ease. He noticed how her enthusiasm seemed to radiate a comforting warmth, contrasting sharply with the shadows that had long hung over him.

As they exchanged brief pleasantries, James couldn't help but be drawn to her, feeling an inexplicable pull. The way she carried herself with such genuine kindness and energy was a stark departure from the cold, calculated world he was accustomed to. It was as if she was a beacon of light, effortlessly drawing him in.

When Y/n spoke again, her voice brought James back to the present. "Shall we get started on the case?"

James nodded, his thoughts still swirling with the unexpected effect she had on him. As they began to walk toward their new assignment, he felt a stirring in his chest—a rare and potent attraction that he hadn't experienced in years. Her light seemed to offer a glimpse of something he had long forgotten, and he realized that her presence would be far more impactful than he initially anticipated.

---

James looked ahead at the road before him. He was in his car, heading towards the crime scene, with Y/n sitting next to him. 

The drive was quiet at first, the two detectives sitting in silence as the city blurred by outside the window. But Y/n finally broke the silence, glancing at the file in her lap.

"The victim," she said, her voice cutting through the tension, "it doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean?" James asked, though he already knew where this was going.

"No signs of a struggle, no forced entry, and those wounds—" she shook her head, flipping through the pages of the file. "They're precise. Too precise for a suicide. It's almost like something else killed her. Something not... human."

James's jaw tightened, his mind working fast. He couldn't let her go down that road, couldn't let her get too close to the truth.

"You're overthinking it," James said, his voice calm and measured. "It was a suicide, plain and simple."

But Y/n wasn't buying it. "I don't think it was."

James exhaled, his hand resting on her arm as they stopped at a red light. "Y/n, you're new here. These kinds of cases... they happen. People fall into dark places, and sometimes, they take their own lives. It's tragic, but that's the reality."

As he spoke, he let his hand linger on her arm, his gloved fingers brushing lightly against her skin. He looked into her eyes, willing her to believe him, to let his influence take hold.

But Y/n's expression didn't change. Her eyes remained focused, unwavering. "I still don't think it was a suicide," she said, pulling her arm away gently.

James felt his heart stop for a moment. His power—the mind bending ability he had relied on for centuries—had no effect on her. His mind raced, trying to understand what had just happened.

How could she resist him?

As the car rolled to a stop near the crime scene, James couldn't shake the unsettling realization: his influence didn't work on Y/n. He had expected her mind to bend effortlessly under his touch, as human minds always did. But she remained untouched by it, her skepticism unwavering.

And then there were her eyes. He hadn't noticed them until now—one blue, one light brown, with streaks of dark brown running through them like cracks in ice. They drew him in, magnetic in a way he hadn't experienced in centuries. Something about her was different, and that difference was making him more intrigued.

The fog hung thick over the alley as they stepped out of the car, the sound of police chatter muffled in the night air. Y/n pulled her coat tighter against the cold, her eyes scanning the scene ahead of them.

"I still don't understand," she said, her voice low but resolute. "How could it be a suicide when the evidence points to something else? The precision of those wounds..."

James' jaw tightened as he walked beside her. His mind was still processing her resistance. He had lived for centuries, long enough to perfect the art of manipulation, of influencing thoughts with nothing more than a touch or a glance. But Y/n... she was a puzzle, and he hated puzzles that didn't fall into place.

"It's not that uncommon for suicides to look this way," James replied, trying to sound casual. He could see the victim's body now, still lying where he had left her the previous night, carefully arranged to appear self-inflicted. "People in dark places do irrational things. Sometimes the mind goes to terrifying lengths to end suffering."

Y/n stopped, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him, skeptical. "But that precise? That clean?"

James sighed, knowing he'd have to try again. His eyes met hers, those two-toned irises that seemed to pull him in deeper the longer he stared. He reached out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. His fingers lingered, the familiar spark of power flowing through him, directing it toward her mind.

"It was a suicide," he said softly, his voice laced with supernatural persuasion. "You're overthinking this. Trust me."

For a second, he expected her expression to soften, for the lines of doubt on her face to smooth away. He expected her to nod, to agree, to let go of her suspicion. But instead, Y/n stared right back at him, unfazed. Her eyes didn't glaze over, her posture didn't relax. If anything, her resistance only deepened.

She took a step back, her eyes locked on his. "Why are you so sure it was a suicide?" she asked, her tone suspicious now, a challenge in her voice.

James blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. He couldn't remember the last time he had been rendered speechless by a human. Hell, he couldn't remember the last time he had felt something other than indifference toward one. But there was something about Y/n that was crawling under his skin in a way he hadn't anticipated. His pulse quickened—something he hadn't experienced in years—and it took everything in him to keep his calm demeanor.

"I've worked these cases for a long time," James finally said, his voice steadier than his thoughts. "I know what I'm looking at. It's just a matter of experience."

Y/n frowned, not buying his answer. "Experience, or deflection?"

His lips quirked in a faint smile. Bold, he thought. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you seem too... invested in making me believe this is just another routine case." She crossed her arms, her gaze unrelenting. "And the more you push, the more I think you're hiding something."

James felt a flicker of frustration rise inside him. He wasn't used to this kind of challenge. Normally, humans were easy—compliant, pliant, eager to believe whatever narrative he spun. But Y/n...she wasn't bending, and worse, she was turning the suspicion back on him.

The crime scene stretched ahead of them, the body still lying where the investigators were waiting to process it. But James's attention was entirely on Y/n now, this enigma standing before him, immune to his powers, with eyes that bore into his soul. Or whatever remained of it after three hundred years.

He stepped closer, his voice lowering as he tried one more time, feeling the pull between them growing stronger, more dangerous. "You're new here, Y/n. You don't know how things work yet. Just trust me on this."

Again, nothing. Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't waver. "I trust facts. Evidence. And so far, none of that points to a simple suicide."

James's patience was thinning. He had no choice but to play along for now, to deflect further without making it obvious. But deep down, a gnawing curiosity started to bubble inside him. Why didn't his power work on her? And why was he so drawn to her? His hands itched with the desire to touch her again, to test if it was a fluke, but he stopped himself, knowing it would only make things worse.

The magnetic pull between them was undeniable now. It wasn't just the frustration of a failed influence—it was something more, something darker. Something that made him want to unravel the mystery that was Y/n, to find out why she resisted him and why her presence ignited a long-forgotten sensation inside him.

"Fine," he said, stepping back and conceding for now. "Let's take a closer look at the scene. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for."

But as he walked ahead, leading her toward the body, James couldn't shake the feeling that something was shifting. Not just with the case, but between them. His carefully constructed world, one he had spent centuries building, suddenly felt fragile, and Y/n stood at the center of it, holding the pieces he couldn't quite grasp.

The alley was still dark, the smell of death heavy in the air. But for James, there was only one mystery worth solving now—and she was walking right beside him.

He continued to wonder why his powers didn't work on her. And beneath that, the more dangerous thought he couldn't quite dismiss: Did he want them to work on her? Or was he starting to enjoy the fact that they didn't?

As James led Y/n deeper into the alley, the scene came into sharper focus. The victim—a woman in her mid-twenties, blonde, with pale skin that gleamed under the streetlight—lay sprawled on the ground, her body positioned to look like she had simply slumped over after the act. But the wounds told a different story. They were precise, clean, almost surgical. James's eyes flickered over them, knowing exactly who had done this.

"You said the coroner will be here soon?" Y/n asked, kneeling down beside the body. Her voice pulled him back into the present, and he quickly masked his thoughts with the same cool indifference he had used for centuries.

"Yeah, they should be arriving any minute," he replied. He crouched down beside her, his hands brushing the edge of the victim's coat as he pretended to inspect her.

"I can't make sense of these wounds," Y/n muttered, her breath clouding in the cold air. "They're too deliberate for a suicide."

James glanced at her, suppressing the urge to sigh. She wasn't wrong, but she also wasn't supposed to figure that out. He could feel the weight of her gaze on him as he studied the body, aware of how intently she was watching his every move.

"I've seen similar cases," he said, feigning nonchalance. "Sometimes people who are really desperate can do extraordinary things to themselves."

Y/n didn't respond right away, but he could tell by the way she clenched her jaw that she didn't believe him. His eyes flicked back to hers, and once again, he felt that magnetic pull, those mismatched eyes—that seemed to anchor him in place.

She rose to her feet, scanning the surrounding area. "There's no weapon here. How could she have done this to herself without a blade? And if she did, where is it?"

James straightened, his mind racing. He needed to steer this investigation away from where it was going. Y/n was digging too deep, and his own kind would not tolerate a human—no matter how sharp—getting close to the truth.

"The weapon might have been picked up by the others, taken as evidence," he said, looking away. "We can check for that later. Right now, let's wait for the forensics team to do their job."

Y/n gave him a skeptical look but said nothing more as they heard the distant rumble of an approaching van.

---

The morgue was cold and sterile, the hum of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. The victim's body lay on a steel table, draped with a white sheet. Forensic examiner Dr. Michael Carter stood over it, his gloved hands hovering as he prepared to begin his analysis. Y/n stood nearby, arms crossed, her eyes flicking between the body and James.

"I'll do a full autopsy," Dr. Carter said, his voice matter-of-fact. "But from what I can tell, these wounds are unusual. Too precise for a suicide, in my professional opinion."

James could feel Y/n's eyes dart toward him, her suspicion mounting. He needed to take control of the situation—now.

"Doctor," James said smoothly, stepping forward. "I appreciate your thoroughness, but I think it's clear what happened here. The victim took her own life. The evidence, while unusual, still supports a suicide."

Dr. Carter looked confused, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the wounds again. "I don't—"

James touched his shoulder lightly, focusing the full weight of his power into the man's mind. His voice softened, persuasive but commanding. "It was a suicide. You'll file your report accordingly."

The effect was instantaneous. Dr. Carter's confused expression smoothed out, his muscles relaxing under James's influence. He nodded slowly, the resistance draining from his face. "Yes...suicide. I'll note that in my report."

Y/n's jaw tightened, her confusion palpable. She watched the exchange, eyes narrowing as if sensing something was off, but she couldn't quite place what.

"That doesn't make sense," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "How could he change his mind so quickly?"

James remained silent, but inwardly, he felt a ripple of relief. One more threat neutralized. Still, he couldn't ignore the fact that Y/n hadn't relented—not completely. His power had no effect on her, but it seemed she was willing to let it go for now, if only because she couldn't understand what was happening.

Dr. Carter finished writing his notes, turning toward Y/n and James. "I'll submit the report by tomorrow morning. Suicide, just as we suspected."

Y/n's eyes flashed with frustration, but she forced a nod. "Thanks, Doctor."

As they walked out of the morgue, James could feel the tension radiating from Y/n. She was still confused, still skeptical, but for now, she wasn't pressing the issue. They walked in silence for a while, the night air crisp as they left the building and stepped into the quiet street.

James glanced at her, his gaze softening despite himself. He couldn't ignore the fact that he was drawn to her in a way he hadn't been to anyone in centuries. Her mind was a mystery, her resistance fascinating. And those eyes—they haunted him, challenging him in ways he hadn't expected.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You look like you could use a break."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. "A break?"

He shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. Coffee, maybe? There's a place around the corner."

Y/n hesitated, her suspicion lingering. "You think coffee is going to explain why none of this makes sense?"

James chuckled softly, his eyes lingering on hers. "No. But maybe it'll give us a chance to talk, get to know each other. I think we could both use that."

She stared at him for a moment, clearly weighing her options. There was still that spark of suspicion in her eyes, but beneath it, something else—curiosity, maybe. Or perhaps she was starting to feel the same pull he did, the strange connection between them.

After what felt like an eternity, she nodded. "Fine. Coffee."

James felt a strange rush of anticipation. As they began walking toward the coffee shop, he couldn't help but wonder what secrets Y/n held—and what made her so immune to his powers. For centuries, he had controlled everything and everyone around him. But now, with her, he felt like the rules were changing, and he was no longer sure who was pulling the strings.

And the thought excited him in ways he hadn't felt in a very, very long time.

—

The coffee shop was small, dimly lit, with a cozy warmth that contrasted with the biting chill of the London evening. The smell of roasted beans filled the air, and the quiet murmur of conversation blended with the soft clinking of mugs. James and Y/n sat at a corner table, far enough from other patrons to keep their conversation private.

Y/n took a sip of her coffee, her eyes flicking over James as if she were still trying to figure him out. "So, how long have you been with the police?"

James leaned back in his chair, giving her a casual smile. "A while now. I've been... around, you could say."

Y/n smirked. "That's vague."

James chuckled. "It's been years. I've moved around a bit, but I always seem to find myself back in London. I guess the city has its way of drawing me in."

That much was true, though the rest of what he would say would be carefully crafted lies. He wasn't about to reveal his centuries-long existence or the true nature of his work with the police. It wasn't time for that—at least, not yet.

"And what about before that?" Y/n asked, her tone light but probing. "You've got this air about you like you've seen it all before."

James raised an eyebrow, impressed by her observation. He shrugged, keeping his tone nonchalant. "I've done a bit of everything. Some military work, odd jobs here and there. But I always end up back where I started—helping people, trying to solve problems."

Y/n nodded, though her eyes betrayed a hint of skepticism. "Must have seen a lot over the years. That would explain why you didn't seem too rattled by the scene earlier."

James lowered his gaze, feeling a familiar pang of guilt at the lies. He didn't want to mislead her, but the truth wasn't something he could share. Not yet. Not with her. He wasn't even sure why he felt so compelled to protect her from that truth.

"It's part of the job," he replied. "You get used to it."

She studied him for a moment, her mismatched eyes gleaming in the dim light. He found himself momentarily mesmerized by them, as if they were pulling him deeper into her orbit. He hadn't felt anything like this in centuries, and the realization both thrilled and unsettled him.

James forced himself to look away, taking a sip of his coffee, trying to hold back the distaste in his tongue. He could feel the attraction building, something beyond mere curiosity. It was a connection, one he hadn't allowed himself to feel since... her.

His mind drifted back to his past, to a time when he was still human. He remembered her vividly—Eliza. She had been everything to him. His fiancée, the love of his life. Before the darkness took him, before the hunger and immortality. When he became a vampire, he broke their engagement, knowing they could never be together. He'd loved her too much to put her through that life, to risk her safety.

The pain of losing her had shaped the centuries that followed. He had promised himself he wouldn't love again, wouldn't allow anyone to get close enough to hurt him in that way. And for centuries, he kept that vow, burying himself in his work and his duty. But now, sitting across from Y/n, he could feel that resolve weakening.

"So what about you?" James asked, steering the conversation away from himself. "What made you want to become a detective?"

Y/n stirred her coffee absently, thinking for a moment before answering. "I guess I've always wanted to do something meaningful, something that matters. I've seen enough injustice to want to stop it. I thought being a detective would give me that chance."

James nodded, listening closely. He admired her drive, her passion for the work. It mirrored the fire he once had when he first started working for the police, though his reasons had become more complicated over time.

"And have you?" he asked. "Found that meaning you're looking for?"

She shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Some days. But I suppose the job isn't always what you expect. Like today—there are just some things you can't explain."

James tensed slightly at her words, wondering if she was circling back to the murder scene. He could see the gears turning in her mind, still questioning the way things had played out. She was smart—smarter than most—and he couldn't help but admire her persistence. But it also made her dangerous. If she got too close to the truth, there would be no way to protect her from the world she was about to stumble into.

He watched her, feeling that magnetic pull between them grow stronger with each passing second. Y/n was different. She didn't just challenge him; she made him feel alive in a way he hadn't since before he became what he was.

Y/n caught him staring and arched an eyebrow. "You okay?"

James snapped back to the present, his expression softening as he smiled. "Yeah, just thinking."

"About what?"

He hesitated, unsure how to answer. His mind drifted back to Eliza again, to the weight of that promise he had made all those years ago. He had vowed never to love again, never to let anyone in. But as he sat there, across from Y/n, the weight of that promise felt like it was starting to crumble.

"Just... old memories," he said finally, his voice softer than before.

Y/n leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Old memories, huh? Anything you want to share?"

James smiled, shaking his head. "Not tonight."

She looked like she wanted to press further, but something in his tone must have convinced her to let it go. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, her mismatched eyes locking onto his again. "You're a mystery, you know that?"

James chuckled, though there was an edge of sadness in his voice. "Maybe. Or maybe I just don't have all the answers."

Y/n didn't break eye contact, and for a moment, the space between them felt charged with something unspoken, something that hummed with tension. James could feel it—the pull, the connection—and he wondered if she felt it too.

He hadn't expected to feel anything like this ever again. Not after Eliza. Not after everything he had lost. But here she was—Y/n, with her sharp mind, her mismatched eyes, her bright smile and the way she seemed to see right through him. And for the first time in centuries, he wasn't sure what would happen next.

"I'll figure you out eventually," Y/n said, her tone half-teasing, half-serious.

James smiled, though inwardly, he was filled with a strange, unsettling excitement. "I look forward to seeing you try."

But as they sat there in the warm glow of the coffee shop, James couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. Y/n was different, and he knew that whatever came next—whatever secrets she uncovered or truths she refused to ignore—she would change his life in ways he hadn't even begun to comprehend.

And for the first time in centuries, that thought didn't terrify him.

It intrigued him.

[prentissluvr]

For your relationship he milestone event!

Character: Emily Prentiss (Criminal Minds)

Dynamic: Romantic

In the CM universe, my occupation would likely be a child/adolescent therapist (which is my dream job I'm currently going to college for). Four words l'd use to describe myself are sensitive, kind, anxious, and loyal. Some of my hobbies are listening to music (currently fav artist is Chappell Roan) and creating art (drawing and writing). My favorite love language to give and receive is quality time and/or words of affirmation. I have a bit of an obsession with birds and psychology. I really love learning about both subjects, they are so interesting! Finally, I'm afraid of being misunderstood (AuDHD) and of spiders.

Congrats on your milestone! I can't wait to see what other stuff you write and do! Have a good day/night!

—Jay💜💜

hello hello jay !! thank you so much sweetest!! so excited for an emily request!! i hope you have the loveliest day/night as well!!

+ .⠄ ꒱ SIT BACK, RELAX, AND IMAGINE . . .

[ 🖇 ] ahhh i totally think that you and emily would meet while she's on a case, maybe you'd be consulting to help them out!

[ 🖇 ] she would immediately be struck by your intelligence and by how much you care about your job and the children that you help

[ 🖇 ] she picks up very quickly on your sensitivity and kindness, and does her best to calm your anxieties (since talking with scary fbi people can be, well you know, scary)

[ 🖇 ] once again, she’s just immediately really drawn to your knowledge, kindness, and loyalty

[ 🖇 ] she’s really interested by you and leaves you her card (with her number underlined) and actually ends up being the first to call you again because she thinks you could help the team with a new case

[ 🖇 ] she’s all like “actually i know someone, they’re so smart and could totally help us”

[ 🖇 ] and the second time you meet she asks you to coffee

[ 🖇 ] she’s extra glad about that decision because she hears chappell roan playing from your office before you turn it off and it’s not her usual music style but she loves chappell roan so much and no one can change my mind about that

[ 🖇 ] in terms of your relationship in general after you start dating, she really just loves everything about you

[ 🖇 ] she finds you really interesting and enjoyable to be around, and her love language is definitely quality time as well, especially because it’s hard to find that

[ 🖇 ] that makes every moment she can spend with you so so special to her!!

[ 🖇 ] she’s also a fan of giving and receiving words of affirmation as well, she’s very likely to give lots of words of affirmation, especially when you’re feeling anxious or misunderstood

[ 🖇 ] she really does her best to reassure you, and she really likes to be the one who can make you smile again or help you to feel better

[ 🖇 ] though she doesn’t show it outwardly as much, she really really appreciates the fact that you also give words of affirmation

[ 🖇 ] she knows that she is capable and smart, but when you affirm to her that she’s a good lover to you, that’s so important and special to her and makes her feel loved <3

[ 🖇 ] emily also really appreciates the overlap in your interests about psychology!! she’s more than happy to blab on about profiling for you because she knows you love to hear it

[ 🖇 ] even moreso, she loves to hear you talk about psychology because you’ll know about certain areas and ideas that she doesn’t

[ 🖇 ] even if you’re repeating something she already knows, she doesn’t care because she just loves to listen to you talk, especially about the things you love!

[ 🖇 ] so this definitely applies to your obsession with birds!!

[ 🖇 ] ornithology isn’t something that emily is particularly interested in on her own, but she completely adores how much you love birds

[ 🖇 ] she’s more than happy to listen to you talk about birds and indulge your obsession by going bird watching with you or buying you plushies of your favorite kinds of birds

[ 🖇 ] while emily is totally a city girl, she really appreciates that your interest in birds makes her get out there and into city parks or somewhere much more nature-y with better birding!

[ 🖇 ] she might not remember a ton about all of the bird facts you feed her, but she does her best to file information away about it anyways

[ 🖇 ] she’ll find herself identifying birds you always point out to her while with the rest of the team and they’ll be like “i didn’t know you knew so much about birds” and if you don’t mind her talking about you, she’ll gush that it’s actually you and your amazing knowledge!

[ 🖇 ] if she’s going somewhere on a case where you can find certain birds that don’t live in the dc region, she’ll keep an eye out for birds that you told her she might see there!

[ 🖇 ] and she might not actually be able to identify most of them, but once she sent you a picture of a mountain bluebird when she was on a case in the west!

[ 🖇 ] alright away from the birds and ontothe fears lol

[ 🖇 ] once emily finds out that you worry about being misunderstood, she is always doing her best to never be the one to put you in that position

[ 🖇 ] she already has knowledge about audhd, but she’s going to do as much research as she can and ask you as many questions as you’re comfortable with to makes sure that she understands you to the best of her ability

[ 🖇 ] being nuerodivergent can be difficult, especially as an adult in the workforce who needs to mask a lot, so emily is always doing her best to help you ease the pressure by making sure you feel like you don’t have to mask around her

[ 🖇 ] and yes! emily will absolutely take swift care of any spiders that might come near you!

[ 🖇 ] she is your spider-killing knight in shining armor hehe

[ 🖇 ] oh! and i almost forgot about your creative hobbies!

[ 🖇 ] honestly, emily does not have the time or necessarily interest in creative hobbies herself, which make her love that about you even more!

[ 🖇 ] she is a huge huge fan of anything you create and is just in total awe with what you do!

[ 🖇 ] she’s so grateful and happy that you bring more creativity and art into her life, and is always so encouraging about you pursuing those hobbies!

[marypickfords]

5 brazilian horror movies

since it’s october i wanted to make a post to recommend some of my favorite old brazillian horror movies. i tried to add links to watch them but not all have subtitles unfortunately! this is mostly in the order i thought of them, not exactly of content/quality/whatever. i haven’t watched many myself yet but i figured this would be a nice introduction to anyone who is interested!

1. as filhas do fogo (1978) dir. walter hugo khouri 

ana & diana are a couple who go on a trip to diana’s family estate - an old house owned by old money, german colonizers. there we learn about diana’s family, her controlling & wwii-obsessed grandfather who wanted to get away from everything and bought this land & her mother who commited suicide years ago. we also meet the groundskeepers who live there, including the mysterious mariana. a heavily atmospheric, dark (both in content & the poor quality of the available print..), quiet, haunting & wonderful movie. khouri was mostly disregarded by critics because he seemingly went against the grain: while directors at the time were documenting concerns re the brazilian working class, khouri was mostly in old big homes, filming the ennui of a middle to upper class. that’s not to say that his movies are without a critique, however, and as filhas do fogo is a good example of his cinema that was well aware of, not only the history of the country, but the current political climate of a dictatorship. besides all that, most importantly.. it is so creepy! this is my favorite from khouri (and not just because it stars a lesbian couple) and possibly my favorite movie on this list.

watch on archive.org (w/ eng subtitles)

2. barão olavo, o terrível (1970) dir. júlio bressane

in this lovely experimental film, bressane pays an homage to horror & insanity in a very brazilian manner. the titular baron olavo owns the home which is the central point of the film and the inspiration for bressane, who saw this 19th century house as a laboratory of light. there’s no central plot exactly, but a spectacle of colors, horror, tenderness, absurdity and indulgence.. i love it. and yes, maybe lesbians are involved too.

watch on archive.org (no subtitles)

3. estrela nua (1984) dir. josé antonio garcia & ícaro martins

a very recent watch, estrela nua is a movie that could be easily paired with perfect blue or any of those 2girls1persona films. carla camurati plays glória, an aspiring actress who is suddenly cast to substitute troubled actress ângela, who has recently died in a car accident. ângela was working on an incestuous erothic thriller, and as glória starts working on the film she begins to.. maybe blend with said dead actress?? obsess over her?? dream about/with her..?? you know where this is going. there’s the clear element of a film within a film in this, but as it ends we realize we might have watched more than a couple movies - and they all work. carla camurati & cristina aché are phenomenal and the great selma egrei (from as filhas do fogo) also shows up as a lesbian actress.. it's just so strange and good.

watch here (no subtitles)

4. excitação (1977) dir. jean garrett

i opted for his garrett instead of a mulher... even though i consider both great brazilian horror films. both lean heavy on the erotic (or rather, the pornochanchada) and deal with, among other things, The Gaze. but i think excitação’s atmospheric beach scenes fit this list better. helena's husband buys a beach house hoping that she'll be able to rest & recover from whatever has been ailing her (hysteria..? paranoia..?). there, she finds out the past owner killed himself and that perhaps is what has been haunting her.. or is it maybe all the electronics in the house? excitação is, as i said, incredibly atmospheric. helena is mostly isolated, away from her husband, walking around the beach alone at night. she looks and looks: at the sea, at beautiful women, at every possible machine around her. this is one for the psychotic women enjoyers. kate hansen is so good.

watch on youtube (no subtitles)

5. as noites de iemanjá (1971) dir. maurice capovila

as noites de iemanjá is in my mind reminiscent of 40s val lewton films like i walked with a zombie.. both in the sense of women at the beach & also the vital element of african religions/deities, in the case of this movie the afro-brazilian iemanjá. and also because while that is the background (and it is very important to the story), the movie centers women that aren’t exactly a part of said religions, even if they are influenced by them. it’s a mysterious one, i can’t remember much of the dialogue, but joana fomm is hypnotic in this. she plays a nameless character who goes to the seaside with the lover because she is ignored by her husband. there, they watch together a group of people making offerings to the sea, to iemanjá. after this her lover disappears. it’s another good example of the mix of horror, folklore and the erotic, so characteristic of these brazilian movies of the time. this one (along w/ as filhas do fogo) shows up on kier-la janisse’s folk horror doc and it was a lovely surprise! 

watch on youtube (no subtitles)

[papa-evershed]

I’m curious… what do you think are the sexiest gifs of Rob EVER? 😏 I’d love to see ‘em.

I apologize for my late answer but like a weirdo, I was just convinced that my choices would somehow be disappointing. 😅🙈 I just feel like most people are going to expect gifs of kissing scenes or skin but those aren't even the ones that make me the most feral. But I'll give it a shot. 😂

As always, under a read more for length but also for cringe worthy fangirling and NSFW thirst-talk.

Immediately, my first thought was this gif. When I say I adore this man's belly I fucking mean it. He's just so deliciously man-shaped. Tall and thick and soft in all the right places. I love a belly, lets me know that a person isn't too militant and allows themselves to indulge in life's pleasures. 😏😏 (I'm reading way too much into a belly but here we are.) Add in the fact that in this specific scene, Martin Evershed is being the ultimate soft, caring Dad™. He has every reason in the world to lose his shit on Sam but instead he actively chooses to be what she needs in that moment and it's just incredibly sexy because he is a whole ass Man™. I just wrote a fucking novel about this one gif but listen, there's a reason it's first that comes to mind.

The thumb in the mouth? 🙃

Speaking of Act On This, this one too. I'm not even sure if I can put my finger on exactly why this specific gif is one of my favorites. Perhaps because he's usually so smiley (which I adore) that a rare serious/stern look wrecks me. Another reason I want him cast as a villain. Just...yes, sir.

And on the flip side, these because he's just so soft again. I fucking love soft men, ones who don't seem to have that drive to constantly perform their own personal version of hyper-masculinity. (also, I'd suck a random dick off the street to get this in HQ)

I'm a simple creature and I like profiles, noses, and tits.

Like I said, I'm a simple creature and I am no better than any man.

When the right men manspread at the right time? Yes. Yes, that.

When Dad™ shows up to save the day? Get that man a beer and a blowjob.

And while I love it when a man is great with kids...I also think it's incredibly sexy when he's tired of their bullshit cause aren't we all sometimes? 😅

FUZZY GREY NECK? say no more. Also, I'd stand in a three hour long line to wait my turn to ride his thigh like he was the carousel at Disney World. I said what I said.

Hutch. Just Hutch. Everything about the character was sexy. And bless this t-shirt. The shoulders. The arms. The fuzzy neck. The nose. He could 100% talk me into sleeping in that creepy ass cabin and much like Phil, we'd also wake up naked and calling out to God.

Annnd because I feel like it's expected and it does deserve attention, this kiss with Papa E. Listen. Listen. So many fucking onscreen kisses go from 0 to 60 in .000005 seconds. Just immediate face-fucking right out the gate. And IDK about y'all but that shit just isn't enjoyable in real life. Don't assault my fucking face like a Dallas Cowboy's linebacker. 🙃 Ease into it. Warm up. Mr. Evershed will patiently take his time making you so anxiously desperate for more that when he finally does deepen that kiss your lips will be eagerly wet and ready...heh. 🙈

Anyway. 😳 I've been really good about not being thirsty on main anymore and this is still quite tame for me but I'm gonna stop now because this post could go on all night. 🫠