#and feeling deeply uncomfortable with that

[peachessndreamss]

Thunderstruck

Summery : When a scorching hot summer a thunderstorm wakes you and Eddie and gets the two of you worked up

Characters : Eddie Munson x fem!reader. no use of y/n

Warnings : explicit sexual content including, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex, canon typical drug use

Word count : 3.2 k

A/N : Previously posted on my now deleted page. Honestly just re-sharing because I still love this idea and this character. And I'm willing the summer to start here.

Is there anything sweeter than a summer thunderstorm? The weather had been oppressively hot for two weeks now, the grass was dead and yellow with the lack of rain and the soil in every flower bed deeply cracked and dusty. The town pool was full to bursting every day of the week with children and adults alike trying to escape the heat. 

Eddie's home often became so hot in the day it was physically impossible to stay inside for more than a few minutes without feeling like you were being cooked alive in an oversized tin can. You’d spend the hours of sunshine sitting outside on old and creaking sun loungers listening to music on Eddie’s stereo, reading or dozing. Eddie would strip down to his boxers and stretch out his slim, pale body in the shade but only after you’d smothered him in sunscreen and he was so greasy with it he looked like a professional wrestler. 

At night the trailer was a little cooler, but still every window needed to be flung open wide to coax in the almost non-existent cool breeze that danced on the warm night air. You’d sleep under a thin, cotton sheet, as anything else would have been too uncomfortable and even then, with Eddie running hot, he often abandoned the sheet all together and just slept naked and uncovered. 

It had been an easy Saturday, nothing to be achieved and nowhere for either of you to be. Band practice had been cried off due to the heat and D&D wasn’t until Tuesday so you and Eddie had spent the day on the sun loungers. Eddie was re-reading The Hobbit, his copy battered and bent at the spine from the many times it had been opened and poured over. He would read his favourite parts aloud to you, giving every character their own distinct voice, he’d read it so many times now he was reciting it from memory rather than reading. 

After a dinner of take away pizza enjoyed outdoors with Uncle Wayne before he headed off for his shift , and a few joints to see the day home, you and Eddie had climbed into his bed, laying as far apart as possible as to not make each other warmer than necessary. 

It was very early in the morning when you were woken up, the room was still dark, not even a hint of the dawn in the darkness so it was the sound that had disturbed you and after listening for a few seconds you heard it again, the deep, rolling roar of thunder. It lasted for as long as 10 seconds before fading into a heavy silence. Then the rain started, a gentle plink-plonk at first but within moments it was a downpour. Heavy rain drops slamming into the roof of the trailer and bouncing back up only to fall again. Then another rumble of thunder and a flash of bright white lightning. 

“Eddie,” you whispered, grabbing at his arm and tugging gently, “Eddie, wake up,”.

Eddie snorted and shifted onto his back, turning his head and squinting at you. 

“Was it?” he grunted, confused and upset by being woken up. His nose scrunched up and his eyes struggled to open. 

“Listen,” you insisted quietly, grabbing hold of his forearm. His skin was hot to touch and clammy. 

It took him a few seconds to realise what you were talking about, as he listened, his brows unfurrowed and his eyes eased open. He cocked his head to one side, the tangle of curls under his head crackling on the fabric of his pillow. 

“It’s raining?” he asked, glancing at you. 

“It’s a thunderstorm,” you replied with a grin. 

“Awesome,” he said with a grin as he sat up and flung himself off the bed and across the small room to the window, yanking back the light curtain and taking in the scene. 

The sky seemed to glow dark red and stormy grey, the clouds low and flat, hanging over the town like a wet blanket. The rain that was falling was fast and heavy and the clattering, pattering sounds it made caused a shiver to run up Eddie’s spine. Suddenly there was a deafening roll of thunder, so loud it felt like it was happening inside your head, it was followed only a second later by a fork of lightning that illuminated the whole sky as it raced toward the ground. 

“Shit, that’s close,” Eddie said over the sound of the rain. 

“It’s so cool,” you replied, standing next to him at the window. 

The air outside was now much cooler and it whipped into the open window, bringing with it a smattering of rain. Eddie slipped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. The two of you watched three more lightning strikes, Eddie was certain that the last one must have hit his favourite picnic bench because the strike had been so close. 

You were now a little bored with the weather and your attention turned to the man standing beside you. You turned your head and placed a gentle kiss on his jaw, then another soft kiss on his cheek before bringing one hand up his naked back and shifting his curls away from his ear so you could kiss the lobe of his ear. You felt Eddie shudder and watched his eyes close as you let your lips linger on such a sensitive spot for him. 

"It's cooler now isn't it?" You said softly, turning your whole body so your front was now at his side, you placed one hand on his stomach, feeling the warmth and softness of his skin and the slight rasp of the hair that led down to his groin. 

"Yeah, a bit," Eddie swallowed as your hand moved a little lower down his stomach. 

You moved your head forward and snuggled into Eddie's neck, catching the smell of his sweat from his hair and his skin as you dragged your teeth against the soft skin. 

"Let's go back to bed Eddie," you mewled, your hand slipping even lower on his stomach, feeling the distinct change in his body hair, from the loose curls of his happy trail to the tighter and coarser curls of his pubic hair. 

Eddie swallowed hard, his cock already hardening and thickening at your touch. In less than an inch you'd be able to wrap your hand around the root of his dick and find him so ready to fuck. While the weather had been as hot and uncomfortable as it had been sex had been completely off the menu, neither of you liking the idea of any additional physical exercise than was strictly necessary. 

Eddie grabbed hold of your wrist before you reached the apex of his thighs and brought your wrist up to his mouth, biting gently at the soft underside of your wrist where a few delicate veins rose up from under your skin, almost imperceptible to the eye but Eddie knew they were there and how it made you squirm when they were touched. 

A thrill of pleasure ran around your naked body as his teeth caressed the delicate skin at your wrist before he kissed it softly. 

"Bed please, my love," he whispered before letting your wrist go and giving you a little bump with his hip in the direction of the bed. 

You smiled sweetly as you slipped out of his embrace and stepped back to the bed. Climbing on the end of the bed, glancing back over your shoulder while on all fours, finding Eddie watching you with his mouth open and a hungry look in his eyes. 

"Like this?" You asked, wiggling your hips from side to side. 

Eddie shook his head as he started to gather up his curls into an elastic he kept around his wrist. 

"On your back baby," he replied as he tightened the bun at the back of his head.

You grinned, feeling your body’s Pavlovian response to seeing his hair tied back like that as you flipped over onto your back in the centre of the small bed, your head resting on the pillow as Eddie positioned himself comfortably between your thighs. He'd settled himself with his cock trapped between his stomach and the mattress so when the mood took him he could grind down on the mattress. 

He ran his tongue over his lips as he looked up at your face, one of his forearms slipping around your thigh and lifted it onto his shoulder, your foot now resting on his back. His other hand pushed your other thigh aside, pushing your sex open for him. He made a sound of appreciation deep in his chest before he used two fingers to spread your slick lips open, exposing you even more intimately, giving him unlimited access to your clit, your entrance and with a tilt of your hips he'd have access to your tight asshole too. But right now, Eddie only had one thing on his mind. 

"Hey sweetheart," he cooed softly, dipping his head forward and placing a soft, closed lip kiss just above your clit.

"I've missed you," he continued in a soft, lilting voice, placing another kiss just below your clit. 

You made a soft purring sound, lifting your hips up a little, urging him to get to the main event. Eddie chuckled and gave you a very gentle slap on the thigh. 

“Don't rush me," he insisted, lifting his head to speak to you, "we need to get reacquainted and she's shy," he added before touching the pad of his thumb to your clit, the sudden direct contact making you jerk your hips off the bed and your hands claw at the bedsheet. 

"See?" He said with a grin as he cocked his eyebrow at you, "she's skittish,". 

Eddie returned his attention to your pussy and continued his slow torture, kissing around your clit, occasionally giving a small lick either side but never touching it directly. In what felt like hours to you, but was only 2 minutes in reality Eddie had you rocking and twisting your hips, trying to force him to give you the contact you wanted. 

"Eddie please, please please," you moaned as your hands fisted at the bedsheet. 

Eddie chuckled softly, rubbing his chin against the thigh he had hooked over his shoulder. 

"Needy, needy girl," he whispered sweetly before finally kissing your clit. 

The bud was tight and thumping in time with your heartbeat and Eddie's wet mouth created an explosion of pleasure and pain as the thousands of nerve endings were stimulated in unison. You gave a strangled cry, bucking your hips up and bringing one of your hands down on the back of Eddie's head, holding him in place, rocking your hips against his open mouth, feeling the hot, wetness of his tongue as he danced it over and around your clit. There was no consistency to his movements yet so while pleasure rolled around your body you knew he wasn't trying to make you come yet. He was still holding back. 

You moaned and bucked again, pushing Eddie's head down harder, feeling the press of his nose into your pubic mound. 

"Eddie, fuck, Eddie," you groaned as you noticed for the first time the slow, undulating movements of his lower body. 

You lifted your head up and watched his hips pressing and grinding down against the mattress, the muscles in his bare ass popping as he rolled his hips and clenched his glutes and thighs. The sight of him fucking at the mattress sent your body and mind spiraling as you dropped back onto the pillow and moaned loudly, your whole body suddenly more alive than ever. 

Eddie's tongue was now constantly licking at your clit, his lips fixed around it  creating a hot, wet seal around the bud. Eddie let you buck and grind and hold his face down all you needed until you finally reached your peak. Your voice disappeared for a few seconds as you felt nothing but hot pleasure rushing around your body.

As your muscles clenched and stars exploded behind your eyes a streak of lightning raced across the sky, turning the room as bright as your body felt for a few seconds. Your hand released Eddie's head and he moved a little, not enough to break contact but to ease up on your clit, stopping the intense licking and changing back to soft kisses to draw out your climax until you were shaking and writhing, nothing but soft mewling noises coming from your mouth.

"Oh god," you moaned softly as Eddie moved his kisses to the inside of your thighs, his eyes travelling up your body to your face. 

"That was so cool baby," he whispered, "you came so hard there was lightning,". 

You gave a soft laugh, lifting your head to look at the sweet man between your legs, he was looking up at you, his big brown eyes looking soft and loving. 

"Get up here and fuck me," you said, twisting a curl of his hair that had fallen loose around your finger. 

"Fuck yeah baby," Eddie replied as he clambered up, crawling up your body, pushing your thighs apart and bringing his hard cock right to your waiting entrance.

You were both beyond ready so Eddie sank into you easily, placing his hands on your thighs and drawing them up his body so you cradled him either side of his chest. He rested with his forearms either side of your head and kissed you deeply and he pressed his hips forward, filling your body with his, making you whole and creating a passionate fusion of your two bodies and your two souls. 

You broke away from his mouth and moaned his name, your hands clutching at his back, your nails digging deep and leaving red marks in his alabaster skin. Eddie hissed at the burn of your nails in his flesh but the hiss quickly turned to a laugh as he dipped his head and licked up the column of your neck to your chin before kissing you again, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he drew his hips back before driving forward again.

You broke away from his lips, taking a deep gasping breath as the head of Eddie's cock hit right against your g-spot. As the lights burst behind your closed eyes the sky seemed to shake with a huge rumble of thunder, it was so loud and so close it felt like it might have made the trailer shake but it was hard to tell if the shaking was the weather, or Eddie as he picked up his pace. 

He moves from drawing out and pushing forward to grinding, keeping his cock buried deeply inside you and rocking his hips back and forth, meaning he was able to constantly stimulate you internally as well as externally, your clit now being rubbed by the muscles of Eddie's pelvis. You clawed at Eddie's back, crying out as you felt your second climax starting to build deep inside your belly. 

"Eddie, oh God, Eddie," you breathed. 

You moved your hands from his back to his face. Catching his cheeks between your hands and bringing his face close to yours, pressing your foreheads together. His face was sweaty and so was yours, your two sweats mingling on your skin. 

You felt so completely connected to him it was overwhelming, Eddie was everywhere and, in that moment, he was everything as well. The intimacy of it all aided in pushing you over the edge very quickly, your orgasm burst outward with the power of an exploding star. Your legs gripping Eddie's chest and your arms dragging his upper body closer to yours so it was impossible to tell who skin was who's. 

With a stuttering and guttural cry, taken by surprise by your suddenly gripping, milking pussy Eddie came, hard and deep. Filling you up as another rumble of thunder and flash of lightning split the sky. 

The two of you seem to float, for a while, suspended in space and time, your bodies both corporeal and ethereal, human and divine. You come back to the sound of the pattering rain and the tickle of Eddie's curls, the weight of his body feels safe and the heat of his skin feels comforting. 

"Eddie baby?" You said softly, stroking your fingers down his spine. 

"Yeah?" He mumbled, his face pressed deep into the space beside your neck. 

"You okay?". 

"Baby," Eddie sighed, lifting himself up to look at your face, "that was the best," he grinned. 

You giggled, more of the physical sensations of post sex coming back to you. An ache in your hips, a stretch between your thighs, and warm wetness on your thighs. 

"It was good," you agreed. 

"I think we should always have sex when there's a thunderstorm," he said sleepily as he moved, withdrawing his softening cock from you and flopping down beside, patting a spot on his chest where he wanted you to put your head. 

You wriggled toward him and placed your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around your body and the two of you kissed deeply. 

"I feel like we just conceived the anti-Christ or something," you said with a giggle. 

Eddie scoffed and shook his head. 

"Don't even joke," he replied, kissing the top of your head tenderly. 

The rain seemed to be slowing and the rumbles of thunder sounded further away, the storm seemed to be rolling on, maybe waking up other young lovers as it went. 

Eddie dropped off to sleep after a few minutes, his body and mind completely relaxed and satisfied. You stayed awake a little longer, the day was getting lighter by the second and Eddie's features were being revealed to you in glorious golden morning hues. You were contemplating how much he looked like an angel from a painting when you dropped off to sleep yourself. 

The two of you woke up a second time when Wayne came home from his shift with paper bags of hot and greasy breakfast food. The three of you sat around the small table and ate. Wayne was tired from his shift and you and Eddie were dozy from being up half the night enjoying each other's bodies. The day after the storm was cooler, the air fresher. The plants seemed to be greener and the sky bluer and even the people seemed more friendly, Eddie's usually sullen neighbour greeting you when you stepped out of the trailer to find your rain soaked sneakers. 

Eddie brought his guitar out that day and he sat beside you on the same sun lounger and strummed chords, humming tunes and making up nonsense songs. Songs about his D&D campaign, songs about summer, songs about love, and one about passionate nights while lightning splits the sky. 

Hearing him recount the night before in his deep, rich singing voice sent shivers down your spine. 

"You're not sharing that one with the band are you?" You asked as he came up with a lyric about how the sound of the thunder was second to the sounds you make when he’s inside you.

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. 

"This one's just for you and me baby,".

[mopopshop]

could u please write an angsty emily hc like what would happen if they fought they and stuff? perfectly fine if nottt 🫶🫶

WILDFLOWER

Part 2 <- here

The ride home was silent, confusingly so. You and Emily had just left a mutual friend’s birthday party, you assumed that the both of you had a good time but the lack of interaction from Emily had you doubting that. 

She’d rushed the two of you out of the party, barely said anything on the walk to the car, and slammed the door when getting in. Obviously you got the impression that she was upset but had no idea why.

The uncomfortable car ride had finally come to an end when you pulled into the parking lot of your shared apartment. Emily hurried her way out of the car and didn’t bother to see if you were following her, her attitude is seriously starting to piss you off but you huff tiredly and reluctantly follow her.

The both of you get inside the apartment and you lean against the wall at the entrance to toe off your heels.

Emily speaks up finally, “I’m gonna shower” and stalks down the hallway, making no effort to look at you.

“… Okay” you respond but she’s already reached your room by then. 

You opt to stay in the living room while she showers, not before quickly changing then dragging yourself to the kitchen to find something small to eat. 

You find a leftover bag of cheezits, grabbing them and crashing on the couch. Shortly after, you hear Emily return from the shower, clad in an old training tee and basketball shorts. She’s just standing around in the kitchen as you walk in to throw away your trash.

You turn to leave but Emily starts to speak “Who.. who was that girl you were talking to at D’s party?”

This irks you deeply, she doesn’t speak to you the whole way back and actively avoids you when you actually get home and the first thing she decides to say is that?

“Dude, are you serious?,” you sigh exasperatedly “That’s the first thing you say after basically ignoring me for the past hour?”

“Why the fuck are you pissed off?”

“Why are you??!” you raise your voice slightly “I’ve been waiting for you to explain this sudden- attitude or whatever immature ass temperature tantrum it is that you’re having”

“Can you just answer my question?”

You put your hand over your face and sigh “Emily… jesus fuck, she’s an old friend from high school. Happy now?” you throw your arms up in frustration and walk back to the living room.

Emily follows you out of the kitchen “No, not really” 

“Great, why is that?” you respond sarcastically 

“ ‘Cause she’s your fucking ex?” 

“Where did you even get that from?”

“From Karlie? Jade? They said you two were like a thing back then”

“That’s a full lie, I kissed her once- drunk at some stupid party sophomore year. You know- when I was 16 fucking years old!” 

“So is she your friend or not? ‘Cause I don’t kiss my friends”

“Emily what the actual fuck are you talking about?! Jesus- I’m a grown woman now if you didn’t notice. That was 7-8 goddamn years ago”

“You let her be all over you the whole fucking night! Not that fucking fun watching your girlfriend rub up on her ex the whole night”

“She’s not my ex Emily, for Christ’s sake!”

“Bullshit-“

“And I didn’t let her rub on me the whole night, maybe if you actually chose to pay attention and realize that the second she started that shit I distanced myself and shut it down. Immediately.” at this point the both of you are full on yelling at each other, you can apologize to your neighbors in the morning “And maybe if you tried to be a fucking adult and actually speak to your girlfriend about how you were feeling, instead of pouting in the corner like a damn child, we wouldn’t be here in the first place!”

“Don’t do that shit, dude. Don’t put all the blame on me like you didn’t keep all this stuff from me”

“Are you serious? Are you fucking serious? First of all, how the hell was I supposed to know that she’d be there and second, I had no idea it’d piss you off this badly. So please explain to me how any of that is my fault” 

She scoffs, rolling her eyes “Yeah, dude whatever, fuck this”

“Oh yeah sure Emily, fuck this, fuck me for responding to you because you brought it up in the fucking first place!” 

“I don’t give a fuck anymore, bro” she yells as she stomps down the hallway and slams the door to your bedroom.

You feel hot tears spring to your eyes as you huff, flopping down on the couch. You quickly scrub them away with your fist and occupy your thoughts with re-runs of the Golden Girls on TV.

About 15 minutes later, the door to your bedroom creaks open and Emily comes storming out, shoving a jacket over her shoulders as she makes her way to the front door.

“Where the hell are you going?” you question

“Hailey’s” she deadpans 

“Seriously? You don’t even wanna talk this out with me?”

“No, I really don’t”

“God, you’re immature”

“Fuck off, don’t wait up for me either” and with that she slams the door.

You flop on your back, laying on the couch and cover your hands over your face. Eventually the tears catch up with you and you sit there, crying on the couch waiting for Emily to return.

…

—————————————————————————

Count how many times I say “serious” in this LMAO

i’m actually really proud of this one, please enjoy ! 🫶🏾

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 7

Azriel x Reader Fic

WARNING:

I wanted to give you a heads-up that the following portion of this fic contains mentions of rape. While it does not go into graphic detail or describe the actual event, it does acknowledge that it is happening, focusing more on the feelings of the character. There is also a short secondary scene involving an attempted rape, but again, it is not described in detail and the scene ends before the assault can take place.

Please read at your own comfort level. If this content makes you feel uncomfortable, that's completely okay. I see you, I hear you, and I deeply appreciate you taking care of yourself. To ensure you don't miss any plot points, I will provide a brief summary in a follow-up post available at this same time. It will not mention the assault. You can look for it under "Keep Moving Forwards, Part 7, Summary".

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of rape, loss of a child, and general trauma.

Word Count: 1.8K

Author's Note:

This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Throughout the rest of the day, you continued to watch the soldiers below, noting the times when the camp seemed quiet and when it was bustling with hundreds of males. An uneasy feeling gripped your shoulders as you felt trapped, reminiscent of being confined in your cabin in the mountains. You were unsure of Azriel's true intentions, despite his kindness, and you didn't want to wait around to find out. You decided you would leave tonight.

You took one of the pillows out of its linen lining, stuffing the naked pillow under the bed before placing your stored food and small collection of knives into the pillowcase and pushing that under the bed as well. You took the ribbon that Anthea had used to tie back your hair and looped it over a few times, securing the hunting knife Azriel had given you in the inner lining of your pants where it couldn't be seen. The only thing that gave you pause was your lack of shoes. Azriel had taken your shoes when you were brought here, and while you wanted them back, asking for them would raise suspicions. Your feet would have to endure the cold. You also gathered a few candle sticks and empty bottles from around the room, intending to use them for collecting water. 

When Anthea brought your dinner, a simple stew, you made an effort to eat every bite, savoring the warmth and preparing yourself for the uncertainty ahead. As she left, a sense of guilt washed over you—escaping a place where she clearly couldn't, if you could escape at all. The fear of continued confinement overwhelmed your fear of being caught. You half thought of bringing her with you, but her uneasy demeanor and the length of time she had been here made you question her ability to survive outside. If you could, you would someday return for her.

You perched by the window, watching as Azriel left for the evening. He didn't come to see you for the rest of the day, which was fine by you. When he was far enough away, you slid from your perch, grabbed the pillowcase of supplies from under the bed. You eyed the swords and axes, but when you went to pick one up, the heft of it caused your side to scream at you, and you decided it would slow you down too much to travel with it. You slipped out the door, ignoring the groaning protest from your aching side.

You found yourself in a small hallway, your room at the end. You made your way down towards the light radiating from below, the cold hardwood floor squeaking beneath your feet. Two other rooms were on this level, each with identical dark wooden doors. At the end, you descended the narrow stairwell to the lower level of the house. At the base was a modest living room with a large mantle, a red sofa, a dining room table with two chairs, and a meager-looking kitchen. Your heart raced too fast to take in much of your surroundings. Behind the stairs was a door that seemed to lead out the back—a welcome relief from having to walk out the front door. You pressed the door open and were immediately met with the smell of wet earth and excrement. Your lips curled in disgust as you pressed your sleeved arm to your nose and walked out, the mud squelching beneath your feet and oozing between your toes. You clambered up the hill, the fires being lit for the evening illuminating your path. Once you hit the treeline, you felt a renewed sense of peace as you continued forward, bumbling in the dark. 

Patrols would be in these woods, you were sure of that, and the best you could do was remain as silent as possible. You continued onward, occasionally freezing at the sound of a shifting branch but otherwise mostly alone. The cold mud made your legs shiver, and goosebumps erupted over your body. You silently wished you had brought one of those furs with you.

You must have only been fifteen minutes away from the camp when you heard what sounded like quiet sobs, followed by male grunting. Your heart stopped in your chest as you listened, the sobs sounding inherently female while the male groaned and moaned. As you walked closer, the sobs became clearer, and the male grunting louder. You realized the female was Anthea, from the small squeaks she let out.

You stopped dead in your tracks, recognizing the sounds of the crying. Your mind raced as you considered your options. There was no way this was of her own accord. Knowing what you did about Illyrian males and the way females shrank around them, you knew this wasn’t the first time this had happened to Anthea. Steeling yourself, you moved closer to the sounds, the light of a single lantern shining in the distance. As the sounds grew louder, the bile in your throat rose as you heard the male, between his animalistic grunts and groans, praising his victim. You had been in her place before. You had felt what she was feeling, and the anger that grew in you bloomed into a red-hot fire. 

You pulled the knife from your pants lining, gripping the handle hard within your fist, dropping the pillowcase behind you, long forgotten as you started to see red. Swallowing the rock in your throat, you moved towards the light and, without thinking, hurled yourself forward.

Your blade slashed through the wings of the male, and he howled, throwing you off him. His pants were still around his ankles as he turned to face you, breathing ragged. His face. Suddenly it all came back: the three Illyrian men, the tree, the storm. Darian.

Anthea slunk away, pressing herself against a tree, tears streaming down her scarred face.

“You,” the male hissed. “I thought you fucking died.”

You said nothing, holding the now-bloody knife as you struggled to your feet.

Darian pulled his trousers back up, tying them in place while licking his lips hungrily. “You’re going to wish you had died when I’m done with you.”

You pushed yourself upright. Though smaller than the others, he still towered over you, his wings flared out in anger, red blood streaming from the gash you had cut. He drew a long serrated hunting knife from his side, flipping it in his hand with ease, as if to show you the weapon he intended to gut you with. You swallowed any notion of fear and steadied yourself, crouching slightly to stabilize your body. The male smirked at your attempt. “Little kitty wants to play?” he laughed, crouching lower as well.

Without a sound, you launched yourself forward, your shoulder connecting with his upper chest, pushing him back slightly. Seemingly taken aback by your strength, the male stumbled and then laughed. “Strong one,” he hissed. “I like fighters, unlike that one over there.” He gestured to Anthea. “She stopped fighting a long time ago.”

His comment sent a new wave of rage through you. You yelled gutturally, slashing forward in a few long strides, but the male sidestepped immediately. When he was next to you, he wrapped his arm around your neck, pulling you tight against him. His scent turned your stomach as he leaned in close, sending his tongue up the side of your face. “Delicious,” he purred as you desperately reached to loosen his grip.

He lifted you from the ground, his continuous pressure on your neck closing your windpipe. The familiar white lining of blacking out began to creep into your vision. You gasped, your nails digging into his hardened skin as he gripped places on your body that recoiled from his touch. He laughed into your ear, breathing you in.

In a moment of panic, you clawed wildly at his face, successfully scratching a long, bloody line down his cheek and through his eye. The male yelled in pain, loosening his grip enough for you to fall to your knees, choking on the air that filled your lungs. “You bitch!” he screamed, covering his eye as he picked up his knife and stabbed it down towards you. You rolled out of the way quickly, the knife digging into the forest floor.

Ignoring the pain in your side, you stood and looked over at Anthea, who sat frozen against the tree. You stumbled over to her, croaking out, “Come on!” But Anthea merely looked at you, her eyes glazed over the same way they were when Azriel touched her, the same way you knew you looked when your mate had done this to you over and over again. “Anthea, we have to go. Now!” you urged, but she didn’t move.

Darian got to his feet, turning towards you, rage embodied. You glanced back at the trembling, half-clothed Anthea, but before you could say anything, your feet were carrying you deeper into the forest. The male came barreling after you, howling insults and threats. Your throat raw from where he had choked you, hot tears poured down your face as you ran into the midnight black. But the male was faster and more calculating. Before you made it far, he grabbed your shoulder and slammed you to the ground. The air was knocked from your lungs as you cried out.

Darian, bleeding from his cheek, laughed. “Thought you could get away?” he taunted.

He straddled you, his hulking body pressing into your midsection as he fumbled with his pants. Even in the night, you heard the sound of rope untying. You screamed, blood-curdling, begging him to stop. Your hands flew up, only for him to grab your wrists, his hands caked in blood as he tried to work your pants down. You kept screaming, begging for anything, anyone. The male laughed into your face. 

Just when you thought it was all going to begin, the beginning of your end, the male screamed and lurched backward. Behind him stood Anthea, holding your knife, lodged in Darian's back. Her eyes were still glazed over. In an instant, he turned around, tackling Anthea, pulling his own knife from his holster and plunging it repeatedly into her neck and chest, howling curses at her.

You lay on the forest floor, unable to stop what was happening as Anthea was almost dead upon impact. You let out a hollow shriek, screaming for him to stop hurting her.

“Y/N!” someone called out, followed by the crashing of woodland underbrush breaking around whoever was running. You were still screaming as Azriel cleared the last fallen log and took in the sight. The male, so enraged, didn’t even turn to see Azriel. Azriel ran to you, wrapping you in his arms, and then a whoosh of cold wind carried you away from the forest.

Author's Note:

Due to the sensitive content in this chapter, I have chosen not to tag anyone. Those who requested tags will be tagged in the summary chapter instead.

I understand that rape and sexual assault are deeply troubling and painful topics in our society. I wrestled with the ethics of writing about these themes and considered whether this addition would move the story forward or if it would be better left out. I am aware that some depictions in novels and fanfictions can be harmful, as they may glorify or misuse these themes. That is not my intention at all.

My writing often reflects my journey toward healing and understanding myself in more complex and holistic ways. While I recognize that such writings don't always need to be shared, my connection to these characters, their pasts, and their traumas compelled me to include this subject matter. I frequently ask myself if scenes involving power and control over another character can be portrayed without depicting non-consent or sexual assault. If possible, I avoid these topics altogether. However, I chose to include this scene because of the ongoing systemic oppression of women in these novels, particularly Illyrian women. I aim to do justice to these characters and highlight the complex systems of oppression both in fiction and in our world.

I am still learning how to share my art with others, and my art includes a part of myself. I hope you understand that my intentions are not to use these themes as mere plot devices or for shock value, but rather to serve a greater purpose.

Please take care of yourself and make choices that honor your well-being. Know that you are loved, cared for, and valuable.

Thank you for allowing me to explore this topic. I'll see you in the next part.

[gregorovitch-adler]

Messy

John turned off the microphone and sighed. He placed it on the side table beside his armchair and sat back in an almost dark room.

Sherlock, John and Mariana had been working on another case.

It was quite late, so Mariana had gone to bed in 221 A. John had been in the sitting room of 221 B, ruminating about his podcasting skills to himself.

John looked at Sherlock - who was sitting in his armchair across the room with his eyes closed - and inevitably began to think the differences between the two of them.

Must be different, being so perfect at almost everything, John thought, continuing to gaze at Sherlock.

Perfect analytical and observational skills needed to solve the cases, perfect timbre of the voice, perfect enunciations, and...

John had obviously noticed it a million times before but now he had to admit it.

... Perfect looks.

Not that John was jealous of all that (okay, maybe a little, but not too much), but now and then he would think that he made a wrong career choice as a podcaster after having served as an army doctor.

Oftentimes he would think that maybe he was better off as a general practitioner now that he was a civillian himself.

A comparatively ordinary job, without anyone else to work for or with.

Would that life suit him better?

John furrowed his brow at those thoughts.

"I won't be able to sleep if you keep your eyes on me the whole night," said Sherlock with his eyes still closed.

John parted his lips and got up from his chair, feeling heated around his face. "Oh, sorry. I'll, er, I'll just go upstairs. You should go to bed too, mate. Aren't you - aren't you uncomfortable here?"

John mentally kicked himself for stuttering yet again.

"No, stop. I could hear you thinking from across the room, just now." Sherlock finally opened his eyes and sat straight on his chair, looking at John intensely. "There is something on your mind, Watson. I need to know what."

John was taken aback by the kind of intensity he saw in Sherlock's eyes. He gave in. "Well, it's just that..." he trailed off.

A brief silence fell in the room as Sherlock and John locked their eyes together. Sherlock got up from his chair and walked over to John so he could be close to him.

"What is it?" Sherlock prompted.

"Am I doing this right?" John finally spoke, taking in irregular breaths.

"Doing what right?" Sherlock was looking at him with confusion.

"This whole podcast thing. I mean, I make it so awkward for our listeners sometimes. And half of the time my jokes don't even seem to land well." John gesticulated widely. "And, um, even after all that editing and cutting out the extra bits, the end result isn't flawless. It's so messy and imperfect."

Sherlock stared at John blankly for a moment. He then opened his arms wide looking at him with an awkward face. "Is it okay if we..."

John caught on. "Uh, yeah, sure," he said with his brow knitted.

They both wrapped their arms around each other. John's one arm was around his waist, and he ran his other arm over Sherlock's back. Sherlock's arms were around his shoulders.

John managed to place his chin on Sherlock's shoulder and sighed.

"The end result is not what we listen to," Sherlock began in a calm voice in John's ear. "The end result is the response of our listeners. How is it?"

John smiled. "Really good, so far, overall."

"There you go."

John felt Sherlock smile against his right shoulder.

They let each other go, but they were still holding hands, looking at each other deeply in the eye.

"Even if that weren't the case, I would not have cared."

"And why is that?" John asked, still looking at his friend with a smile.

"Because I like you as you are."

John chuckled, followed by Sherlock.

John turned around to make his way to his bedroom, already feeling loads better than before.

*

Prompt: Imperfect by @calaisreno

Tags: @helloliriels , @jamielovesjam , @topsyturvy-turtely , @keirgreeneyes , @totallysilvergirl , @lisbeth-kk , @peanitbear , @gaylilsherlock , @friday411 etc.

[erikahenningsen]

Rejanis. Dealer’s choice. ;)

32. A kiss while someone watches

Regina barely slept last night. Actually, she hasn't slept well for at least a week. Her body feels sluggish while her brain moves fast, thoughts whipping by like she's in a car with a steering wheel that doesn't work.

She picks at her thumbnail while her friends gather into a circle, and Kyle places the bottle in the center—an empty wine bottle Regina had pulled out from the recycling bin in the garage.

Regina tries to think of a way out of this game but comes up empty; she's positive that if she protests, everyone will somehow, suddenly know.

They'll know that Regina's been spending her nights staring at her ceiling, trying and failing to think about anything or anyone but Janis. That she runs her phone battery down scrolling through Janis's personal and art Instagram accounts and her camera roll, full of photos of them together or just random photos of Janis, for hours. That last night, Regina hesitantly typed am I gay? into Google.

As Kyle and Karen make juvenile jokes about kissing, Regina gets the creeping, panicky feeling she did when she got on the biggest roller coaster at Six Flags last summer—like she's being strapped into an experience she doesn't want to have and handing the controls to her life over to someone else.

Kyle's big, boyish hand lands on her knee, and Regina jumps.

"You good, babe?" he asks, and Regina fights not to cringe like she does every time he calls her that.

"Good, all good," Regina says, hoping she sounds cool and casual. Not that she expects Kyle to pick up on any nuance in her tone.

They've kissed a few times, and it hasn't been particularly enjoyable. Kyle's lips are rough, and he presses in too hard, is too eager to use tongue. Every time, it leaves Regina with the unsettling thought that there is something deeply wrong with her.

"I'll go first!" Karen says enthusiastically, reaching forward and giving the bottle a spin.

Regina sits back on her hands, watching as the bottle slowly spins to a stop, pointing right at Kyle. All the eyes in the circle turn to her, and belatedly, Regina realizes she's supposed to give a shit.

"Watch yourself," Regina says, pointing at Karen. Everyone laughs, but there's a distinct tense energy in the room—probably because Regina knows for a fact half the people here have never kissed anyone.

Karen shuffles over to Kyle, resting a hand on his shoulder and leaning in. Karen, at least, has kissed a few people already, so she's playing for fun, not to increase the number of fingers she can put down during a game of Never Have I Ever.

The kiss is short and relatively chaste, because Regina knows Karen would never actually kiss her boyfriend, and certainly not in front of witnesses. But Regina knows she's supposed to be jealous, possessive, so when they part, Regina slides her hand into his and gives him a look.

"Sorry, babe," Kyle says sheepishly as Karen scoots back to her spot.

Regina presses a brief kiss to his lips and reaches for the bottle, saying, "I'm not watching you kiss someone else again so soon." In truth, she just wants to get this fucking over with.

Regina stares, almost hypnotized, as the bottle spins around and around. She's so focused on the movement that it takes her a moment to realize that it's stopped.

On Janis.

For a minute, Regina has no idea what to do. Of course she wants to kiss Janis. She thinks constantly about kissing Janis. She has dreams about kissing Janis. But she's spent every night for the last month praying to anyone who would listen that she could stop wanting. Stop wishing.

Regina realizes that she's been frozen too long, and Janis is starting to shift uncomfortably. The only way out is through, she figures. So she crawls over, sets her hands on Janis's shoulders, and leans in before she has time to think about it too much.

It is absolutely nothing like kissing Kyle. Janis's lips are so soft, and she tastes like the Twizzlers she had been eating. She inhales just a little when Regina makes contact, so that Regina can feel it, and it takes all of her willpower not to shiver.

This, Regina thinks absently, is what it's supposed to feel like.

Regina's whole skin is buzzing like she's electrified, and she tilts her head a little so they fit together more seamlessly. It's like everything suddenly falls into place, and she understands what she's been missing this whole time when her friends talk about their crushes.

Janis tenses beneath her, and Regina pulls back abruptly, realizing with a start that she's taken way too long. There are a few giggles behind her, and she feels her face burn hot. Janis is looking at her, wide-eyed, an expression Regina has never seen before.

Regina hears a whisper behind her, maybe Gretchen to Karen, and she has to do damage control. Now.

Regina slides back to her spot in the circle, a coy smile forced onto her lips.

"I knew she'd let me do that," she says, like she's saying it only to Kyle but she makes sure it's loud enough for everyone to hear. "She's like, obsessed with me." She smirks and flips her hair over her shoulder and she feels sick, like she might throw up all over Gretchen's Steve Madden boots.

More giggles and whispers, but this time they're looking at Janis, and Regina feels a sense of relief knowing that it won't be her they're talking about at school on Monday.

Regina chances a glance at Janis, who is looking at Regina like she's never seen her before. Regina looks away, desperately trying to think of a way to let Janis know how much she didn't want to do that without toppling her carefully crafted house of cards.

Maybe it would be easier if Janis hated her, actually. Sure, it'd hurt, but maybe it would stop these thoughts. These feelings. It's you or me, Regina tries to silently tell her.

And Regina will always pick herself.

[astrologiayadumu]

Part two a)

As someone who went to a girl's high school, I’ve learned a lot about the personalities of different astrological signs/aspects so these are some of my observations :

1. 3H Mars - Riot grrlsss - I mean the people who are always ready to start a riot ( or strike as we call it in my country) at any minor inconvenience by the school. The rebellious types who never followed school rules. Also you can't do anything secretly, every action you take or anything you do is talked about.

2. 12H moons - always in some drama.Always has all the tea about everything and everyone in school.

3. 8H moons - Know a lot of secret things that go on that nobody knows about. They rarely tell tho, you have to be tight.

4. 10H/ 1H Mercury - known for their words/what they say. Good luck spilling secrets or being a gossiper with this one. Everyone will know what you said.

5. Jupiter in the 9H - deeply religious. Will always be involved in religious activities in school. Very strict and serious about their beliefs.

6. Scorpio risings tend to be really short.

7. Lilith in the 1H- Hottest in the room. makes other girls uncomfortable once they express their sexual side. Like twerking when music is being played( other people do the same but they don't receive the same reaction). The silent stares and judgment are extreme. It’s probably jealousy but people do a lot to shame them. Since its a girl's school, a lot of girls want to try you out. ( this needs its own post there is so much to say)

8. Taurus suns -least likely to like school food.

9.Aquarius Mars- social media influencers. Always up to date with trends. Also those people who everyone I the school knows and follows their socials.

10. Venus in the 5H - generous with their items more than most.

11. Leo suns carry themselves like royalty. It's funny sometimes when no one takes them seriously💀 Very big personalities can be too much sometimes. They’re very regal tho in their demeanor. Most likely to join the school pageant (and win)

12. Moon in the 2H - make having money their entire personality. Will tend to respect people according to how rich their family is like a religion. Never broke tho.

13. Lilith in the 10H/6H - everyone wants you but can't have you unless you want them first.

14. Lots of Leo energy, like being a. Leo rising, Leo degrees, - extreme attention seeking. Oh you will not have peace until you give them your attentions.

15. Pisces suns are too scared to live without any form of religion or spiritual belief. They are very indifferent to irreligious people. They pray before doing anything.

16. Best dancers- Gemini mars and Sagittarius mars.

17. Capricorn moons are so focused on their life goals. Will never waste time on something that’s not beneficial to them. Like if everyone is doing something just to pass the time or out of idleness they'd rather read or do something constructive. Their parents are so strict about their grades.

18. Sun conjunct Lilith- I’m sorry you just can't do anything shady and get away with it. Everybody talks and points out your sins. They never let them slide. Tends to be the outcasts in their classes. (not social class) You also can't participate in drama or beef like everyone else when it blows over you're the only one who will be crucified. Very rebellious energy tho, rubs teachers the wrong way. People fell its easiest to pick on you the most because everyone naturally doesn't like you. ( I'm not trying to be mean, sorry)

19. Mars in the 5H - like to fight. Not someone people like to provoke always 2 seconds from throwing a punch.

20. Mars in the 2H - eat a lot. We used to share food communally and you guys were a problem to your table members.

21. Lilith in the 2H - people feel like they deserve your possessions. Like someone would borrow money from you and feel offended if you ask for it back. Or if they want something instead of getting it themselves would feel obliged to take yours instead. On the bright side, people give you things easily, and people who don't have the same luck as you may try to make you feel guilty.

[acapelladitty]

could i request m!reader teaching maximus how to pleasure himself or even teaching him to to pleasure lucy? a first time between them. it doesn’t have to be strictly soft and sweet either. perhaps some teasing, premature ejaculation on maximus’ part. thank you for your time 😊💚

lessons in lust

Pairing: Maximus/M!Reader

Summary: Sick of being so inexperienced around sex, Maximus asks for help and you offer to show him the ropes (pun intended).

Fic Masterlist

In the week since Maximus had strolled into the bathroom you were hiding out in to enjoy a little private time, you had found his eyes burning into the back of your skull on multiple occasions - his face holding back a question he was desperate to ask.

Eventually you had given in.

What?

His answer had surprised you as much as it excited you.

Can you show me how you did that?

And so you found yourself sharing a cot with him, both sitting on opposite ends as something electric and unknown hung in the air.

In nothing but off-white underwear and an even dingier vest, the cloth more grey than anything, Maximus' face was oddly intense - the same intensity it no doubt held when the Brotherhood had him sit through their many lessons - and it was oddly endearing.

"Relax, Max." Sweeping your hands in front of you in a calming gesture, you hold his eye as you gently cup your cock through the fabric of your underwear. "Now, just watch and I'll talk you through what to do."

Pulling yourself free without shame, the way that Maximus' eyes widen fractionally as he takes in your brazen arousal sends a voyeuristic thrill down your spine. Cock in hand, you trail your fingers along your shaft as you tease the skin. Heat creeps across your neck with every stroke and you inhale deeply as you tilt closer to Maximus' position so he can see you as freely as possible.

"Some guys like a strong grip and some like it to be a bit softer. What matters is the friction and how good it feels as your hand glides across the skin."

"Uh huh." Swallowing, Maximus shifts uncomfortably and your eyes flick to the tent in his underwear which he seems determined to hide. "And what about the-" He gestures lower with his fingers, indicating your balls as they hang within their sac.

"Oh, the balls. Well, uh, it feels nice to play with them as you jerk off but they can be sensitive if you get a bit too rough."

"Okay. So not too hard."

Adding that to his mental list, Maximus leaned in closer as he ran a hand across his forehead - the fingers coming away damp with sweat.

"What about women? How do they-" Maximum lets the question trail off, his gaze slightly clouded by some distant thought. He had someone in mind, obviously, but the question catches you off-guard regardless, not expecting him to ask such a thing.

"Women have their own nice spots," you explain patiently as your hand continues to stroke along your cock with a practised ease, "and there's one near the top of their sex parts that feels even better than this apparently."

News to Maximus, his attention split between your cock and your face, he nodded sagely as though understanding what you were saying.

"So, if I find it then I pull it like that? Like you're doing?"

"Oh hell, no. Don't do that." Thinking of the few women you'd been with, you wince on their behalf as you continue to stroke along your cock. "It's too small anyway so you're supposed to touch it more gently."

"Oh, okay."

"Yeah. All right, now I need you to pull yourself out for me." Feeling your balls tighten and your legs tense, you can sense your release approaching and you let go of your cock to stave it off for the moment and draw out the pleasure. "I can already see that you're feeling excited to show off."

Maximus does as told, a shy glance all he offers before his hands dip beneath the band of his underwear to release himself - his cock visibly straining and tenting against the fabric.

Pulling his cock free, the sight of him makes your own length twitch in hand. Different to your own, his cock is slightly larger in both length and girth and a stunning deep colour which looks both velvety and soft as it stands to attention. The tip of his cock is visibly wet, pre-cum leaking from his slit as the excitement of a free show and the pleasure to come has him ready to go.

Your own cock slick with pre-cum you match his movements as he strokes his hand along his cock, mutually masturbating while allowing him to set the pace.

Maximus pauses as his hand rolls over the engorged head of his cock, his spine stiffening as the sensitive nerves there overwhelm him for a moment. He seems to like it though as his lips form into a slight 'o' shape and he repeats the feat, his teeth coming into play as they bite at his bottom lip.

Having no concept of moderation, Maximus chases his pleasure with abandon - his hand moving quickly and messily across his length as he used the pre-cum as a makeshift lube for his hand. It's a show which makes your lose focus on yourself, your attention gripped by how easily he wears his pleasure on his handsome features.

Before too long, his sexual inexperience showing in how quickly he reaches his peak, Maximus' breathy grunts dissolve into a sharp moan and he comes all over himself; his release arcing in thin ropes across his hand and cock as he gazes down at himself with open interest. His brow is furrowed and you smile at how tense his features seem until the satisfaction of his release smooths him out.

"And it explodes every time?" Maximus asks shakily.

"Every time." Painfully hard now and aching for your own release, you continue to edge yourself as you answer his honest questions. "It's salty too. You can taste it, it won't do anything bad."

Experimentally, Maximus brings his fingers to his lips and tastes his own release with a heated expression, one laced with curiosity. It's a flavour which he reviews with a shrug.

"It's," he pauses, "different."

Suddenly struck by just how weird and intense and so fucking hot this whole scenario is, you match his dopey grin with one of your own as you roll your thumb across your cockhead and settle into your own arousal.

"Yeah. It's definitely different."

[saturnville]

Hi 👋🏾

So yesterday I was driving and I was listening to Try Sleeping With A Broken Heart by Alicia Keys & I immediately thought of your Candy Bling - Joe Rantz Fic. I feel like it fits the story so well. Not sure if you plan on adding more to it but with the way it ended, I’d be open to reading it. <3

inseparable | sleeping with a broken heart, joe rantz

pairing: joe rantz x black fem oc (cleotha jean). content: cleo and joe have a conversation. warning: angst. fluff. song: inseparable by mariah carey and try sleeping with a broken heart by alicia keys an: welllll long time, no see. hope y'all enjoyed tags: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste @alliewassobonum

She had dreamed of this day for months, Where the invisible string between them would become shorter and shorter and their hearts would reunite as one. It was always a fairytale in her eyes; he’d come to her desparate and weeping for her forgiveness and they’d ride off into the sunset with dopey smiles on their faces, drunk off the love they had for one another. 

It was quite the opposite. They sat at opposite ends of her elongated dining room table, fiddling with the delicate wine glasses that held a dangerous amount of sweet red wine that she’d refilled twice more since his arrival. For them to be so uncomfortable in each other’s presence was so unlike them. It drove her mad. 

The silence was deafening and could cut the tension like a sharped-bladed knife. Cleotha wrapped her hand around the body of the glass and brought it to her lips, “What brought you here, Joe?” Her words were muffled from the glass, but he heard her loud and clear. 

Joe’s jaw clenched as he thought long and hard about his answer. Nothing that he said would matter regardless of how he tried to phrase it. Simply put, he was scared. But, he knew she wouldn’t hear that. They were so in love and he proposed to her. If he was scared, he would’ve broken it off sooner than later. But, it wasn’t that he was scared of commitment or being together with her forever, he doubted his ability to be the best life partner he could be. 

His parents’ relationship wasn’t successful; hell, they left him an orphan. There was no guidance on how to be a good man let alone a good partner and soon-to-be husband. So, as he explained to her, “I panicked.” 

Cleotha Jean was not easily amused, but his response drew a chuckle from her. Her tired eyes held no life. “Panicked? About what, Joe? I-I-I’m not understanding. We were together for almost 3 years and you panic weeks after our engagement, call off the wedding, then show up at my house months later just to say you panicked?” 

Joe inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. She was upset and rightfully so. But, the harshness of her words made him want to crawl into a hole and stay there. It was deeper than she thought. Yet, being the emotionally intelligent person she worked to be, Cleotha took note of how he retreated further into his seat and sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. But, Joe, I just…panicked for what?” 

He panicked. She hurt. She’d lay in bed at night and pray that God would mend the heart she’d feel break like rock to a window. She’d writhe in pain, begging for him to return. He panicked while she suffered. 

“I got in my head, Cleo,” he said shortly. “You have both parents in your life and your father loves your mother more than words can describe. He’s a good man, a good father, and a good husband. I never had that example. I freaked out. I don’t have parents, I don’t have an example of what a good husband should be. The last thing I wanted to do was take this huge step and failing you as a husband. That kind of weight either makes or breaks a person…and it broke me. And I’m sorry for putting you through that.” 

Cleotha’s lips twisted as she fought the lump that formed in her throat. She sought for any form of dishonesty or lack of truth in his eyes, but all she saw was a plea for forgiveness. One more chance, he begged silently.

“It might take forever and a day for you to forgive me, but…I can’t do life without you, Cleo. I tried and I’ve been so miserable. Words can’t make up for anything, but I want to start over.” 

And the question became, would she agree? 

-

“A little to the left, baby,” she said, hands pressed against the small of her back as she waddled toward the middle of the nursery. He glanced upward at her after he made the adjustment to the position of the white crub. “Perfect. Thank you, baby.” 

Her husband stood to his feet and walked toward her with a smile on his face. He planted the softest kiss against her lips, hands around her swelling belly. “You’re welcome. Looking beautiful as ever.” His lips grazed the skin of her neck, making her eyes flutter closed. She giggled and pressed her hands against his chest. “Joe…” 

“I’ll never get enough of you, Cleo,” he drug out her name playfully and pecked her forehead. “Love you darling.” 

Cleotha smiled. Everything that she desired had fallen into place just as it should have and they were inseparable. And boldly, she repeated. “I love you too.”

[madaqueue]

eternally, yours

chapter 3 | nonmaleficence

synopsis: 'forever' is a peculiar concept - how can something persist, unchanged, throughout time? when our bodies halt their aging, do our minds continue to evolve? do our hearts? choso was comfortable with his version of forever, one of solitary loneliness; that is, until he meets you. forced to confront the harsh realities of being human, the fragility of life, his definition of 'forever' changes as he stares down the barrel of eternity.

pairing: vampire!choso kamo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au. fluff. language, mentions of blood, mentions of death/loss. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i had a really bad tummy ache last night but powered through to finish this chapter tell me i'm brave (also...may or may not have started the next chapter and there will be smut in it if it kills me)

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

The next week blows by, moments blurry as you await your time with Choso. The only clear moments are the ones with Megumi, taking him to the park to play with his new friend or helping him care for his remaining shoulder injury.

As you hold an ice pack to him a wince leaves his lips, nevertheless leaning into the cool touch of the plastic.

“M’sorry,” you mutter as he adjust uncomfortably beneath your touch.

Gathering all the strength a six-year-old can muster, he turns to you, a false grin plastered on his face. “It’s okay,” he chirps, “it’ll make me stronger.”

“It’ll make you stronger,” you hum in agreement, ruffling his hair as he laughs.

Things weren’t easy, but they weren’t nearly as hard as they had been. The warm summer air seemed to settle something within you, and within the ‘father’ who claimed to share a house with you.

He wasn’t home nearly as much, and while you wanted to ask, to pry, to understand, you just couldn’t bring yourself to; your curiosity was overrun with the need for protection. You had to keep Megumi safe, and pestering the man who housed him was not the way to do so.

As Friday finally approached, you found yourself nervous to spend time with Choso again, fear threatening to override your excitement: Would he still like you? Would he still want you?

The sound of knocking hits your ears, faint at first, but growing stronger with each passing second. Like he needed you to hear him.

Your legs carry you to the front door of your apartment, the only home of yours that Choso had seen, as your hand hesitates over the handle. Determination overtakes you, twisting the handle and opening it.

Choso stands in the hallway, a beautiful dark red shirt under the black of his suit. God, he looks perfect.

A slight grin spreads across his features. “Shit,” he mutters to himself, “you look gorgeous.”

Your cheeks flush as you feel his eyes cover you, taking in the unintentionally matching maroon dress that covers your body. Despite the velvet that wraps around your torso you felt deeply exposed to him, as if he could see into your very being.

“Thanks,” you hum, “so do you.”

His grin widens, cheeks threatening to blush as he reaches out a hand for yours.

“Shall we?” he asks.

Grabbing his hand, your fingers intertwine with his, a coolness overtaking your body as you step into the hallway. “We shall,” you smile, grip tightening on his as you lead him from your apartment.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

Sage.

The first thing you notice upon entering into the restaurant is the scent of sage, a mellow earthiness meeting your senses as you step inside.

It’s dark, only lit by the occasional candle, soft piano playing in the background. Despite having rented this apartment for years you had never ventured into this restaurant, feeling it was too far above you, a place you never dared go.

Yet, now, with Choso’s arm wrapped around you, it feels comfortable, as if you belonged here.

Something about him, something inexplicable, put you at ease from the moment your skin made contact with his. As the host led you deeper and deeper into the building, you never failed to appreciate the safety you felt around him.

Sliding into a booth at the very back of the space, you glance across the menus placed in front of you. Your eyes widen at the prices, but almost as if he could sense your discomfort, Choso preempts. “This is my treat, of course - consider it a ‘thank you’ for letting me stay over.”

“Choso-”

“Besides, it was my idea to come here,” he smirks. “Maybe you can pick the next place.”

Warmth covers your body as you turn your gaze to the table. He wants another date? You can’t help but smile at the prospect.

Shortly after being seated, a waitress takes your drink orders and you’re left alone with Choso once again. Your eyes stray from his face down his body, the threads of his dark suit taught around his biceps, the dark red perfectly contrasting his pale skin.

“So,” he hums, pulling you out of your thoughts, “how’s Megumi doing?”

Quickly meeting his eyes, you nervously try to hide your obvious ogling. “He’s doing better,” you smile, “thanks to you.”

A soft chuckle rumbles in his throat. “I’m glad to hear it, he’s a good kid. He reminds me of my brother.”

Pausing, you tilt your head. “I didn’t know you had siblings,” you observe.

“Yeah,” Choso grins, “I have two, actually. My younger brother, Yuji, is probably around Megumi’s age. He’s sweet, and funny, and strong, and-” he cuts himself off, cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble about him.”

“He sounds amazing,” you smile. “I’ll have to meet him someday.”

“Yeah,” Choso sighs contentedly, “you will.”

Raising your glass to your lips, you take a sip in the comfortable silence. “So, are your parents doctors too?”

The man across from you stiffens momentarily. “No, um, they weren’t.”

Shit. You of all people should know not to ask about family, given how fucked up your own is. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s okay,” a gentle smile, the same forgiving one he gave you the first night you met, forms across his features. “They died a long, long time ago, and I don’t really even remember them anymore. It feels like it’s always just been me and my brothers.” Our own little family, he thinks to himself.

“Oh…I didn’t know.”

“I know,” he follows, understanding and empathy lacing his tone. “What about you, what do your parents do?”

An ironic laugh bubbles inside your mind. You opened the door for him to ask, of course he would step through it. Now, you just have to navigate through the maze of your past. “They, um, shit, I don’t know.”

Your gaze falls to the table, hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. Choso doesn’t prod, doesn’t press, waiting patiently for you to be ready as you attempt to steady your breathing.

“My…my dad left when I was pretty young, and my mom died after Megumi was born.”

Raising your eyes slightly you meet his, the darkness of them offering comfort, as if to say ‘it’s alright.’

A soft chuckle escapes your lips. “I guess we’re kinda similar in that, huh? Both of us taking care of a kid when we’re just kids ourselves.”

Choso nods sincerely, reaching out his hand to take yours from across the table. His touch is cool as his thumb traces your palm. The lightness, the love, that seems to seep through his body hangs in the air. It’s almost enough to make you tell him more, tell him everything, but the dark hallways of your past haunt you, too afraid to turn around and face them yourself, let alone with him.

Besides, he doesn’t deserve that; he shouldn’t be haunted by the ghosts of your memories. Would he still want you if he could see the shadowy outlines of the things you left behind, the things that left you behind?

A comfortable silence falls between you as he continues tracing his fingers over your wrist, pure adoration flowing from his hand to yours.

Before you know it, you have both finished your drinks as Choso stands to guide you from the restaurant. His arm wraps around your waist, finding their new home along the small of your back.

Outside, the night air pricks at your skin, shockingly cool compared to the heat of the day. It was barely dark when you arrived, but now the moon shines brightly above you, illuminating your path home.

“Pretty,” you murmur to yourself as you glance at the sky above you. The stars shine against the dark blanket of the night, the full face of the moon casting a soft glow over you.

Leaning your head against his shoulder as you walk, you can’t help but feel a sense of peace, a deep tranquility, as your body presses against his.

“You really do look beautiful,” his low voice breaks the silence as he glances down at you.

A giggle erupts from your lips at the compliment. Stepping away, you move to twirl in your dress, before your ankle suddenly catches on the sidewalk.

Tumbling down, your body caves above you, concrete scraping against your skin. A string of curses leave your mouth as you land on the cold ground, sharp pain coursing through your body. Focusing your eyes on your hands, all you can see is red, blood pooling from your open wounds. Tears begin falling from your eyes as the pain settles, your ankle throbbing and palms aching.

Choso stands frozen above you, unable to move from where his feet plant him. His senses are screaming, overtaken with the sudden urge to consume. Flames of desire cover his body, heat building as his hands form into fists, afraid that the slightest motion may cause his control to crumble before him. “Y-you’re bleeding,” he whispers to himself.

A broken cry leaves your throat, hands reaching down your leg as bloody handprints imprint on your calf. “Ow,” you sob, unable to form any coherent thoughts above the pain.

Your voice pulls the man from his thoughts, breaking the cast of his panic as his mind switches to focus. “Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he murmurs to you, bending down. His gaze quickly covers your body, assessing the damage. “I’m gonna get you home and get you patched up, okay?”

All you can do is nod weakly, tears continuing to spill down your cheeks.

Choso loops his arms under your body, picking you up with ease as he carefully avoids your ankle. Your hands fall into your lap as your head leans against his shoulder, whimpers occasionally falling from your lips as he hurriedly carries you back to your home.

You arrive at the front door almost impossibly fast before he unlocks it and swings it open. Kicking his shoes haphazardly to the side he moves through your apartment, finding an available bathroom and setting you on the counter.

Taking in a deep breath, Choso steadies himself before returning to the task at hand. He knows if he loses focus, if he allows himself to linger, he risks losing control, losing you.

Rummaging through your cabinets he finds the tools he needs, laying out bandages across the table.

“This might hurt a little, okay?” he hums, prepping a cotton swab with rubbing alcohol.

“Okay,” you murmur, “I trust you, Cho.”

His eyes lock on yours, a carnal desperation behind his irises you nearly don’t catch, before he fixes his attention to your hands. He gingerly holds your wrist as the gauze makes contact with your palm, searing pain shooting up your arm.

“Ow,” you can’t help but whimper.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers, “you’re doing great, just a little bit more, okay?”

Biting your lip in an attempt to quiet your cries, you nod again. Something about his voice, the empathetic deepness to it, truly does put your body at rest. As he continues talking you through the next steps of cleaning and dressing your wounds, it really does feel less painful the more you hear him. Each coo of “it’s okay,” calms you down more and more, until you’re nearly unaware of the aches that once roamed your body.

Shifting back he begins the process of wrapping your ankle, carefully avoiding excess pressure that could evoke even a twinge of discomfort.

Stepping away, he smiles up at you. “All done,” he grins.

Glancing down, you admire his work: your hands are cleaned and bandaged, your ankle held in place, no lingering remnants of the bloodied mess you had been moments prior.

As he washes his hands in the sink next to you, Choso finally feels like he can breathe again. Pride blooms in his chest at his self-restraint, his ability to care for you even when his body demanded something else, something more.

Prior to this, he had never had trouble with blood, something he was normally nearly bored of. To him it was mundane, a necessary part of survival and nothing more. He encountered it at work and when he fed, but it had never distracted him quite like this. Something about it, something about you, taunted him, drawing him in.

But of course, he can’t - he knows he can’t. He never even intended to be this close to you, hoping your few chance meetings would have been easily forgotten, blending into the memories of his life. Yet, another part of him knew that wouldn’t be possible, the moments with you bright in contrast to the darkness he had been living in. Once he got a taste of the sun, how could he be content with the moon?

The feeling of your hand on his shoulder shakes him from his thoughts. “I think your hands are clean enough, Choso,” you chuckle from beside him.

Looking down, his hands had begun to turn red from the hot water pouring over them, an unnoticed sensation. “Oh, yeah,” he laughs distractedly.

“Thanks again,” you hum, the pain of your fall now fully subsided, leaving only a dull ache in its absence.

“Just doin’ my job,” he grins meekly.

Reaching your arms out to him, you pull him into your embrace. Still seated on the counter your legs wrap around his waist as your hands loosely hang around his neck.

So close. You are so close. His thoughts threaten to spiral again as he looks at you. He can smell the mix of your perfume and lingering metallic scent on your skin; he feels electric, his entire body vibrating as his mind begins to cloud.

“I, um, I guess I should get going,” he nervously blurts, beginning to pull from your grasp.

He can’t stay here, he can’t be here any longer. He has to go, now.

You can practically feel his breath on your face as your eyes lock on his, your grip on him tightening. “Choso,” you purr, pulling him closer.

God, do you even know what you do to him? It has to be on purpose, right? The way you lick your lips as your eyes travel to his, the warmth of your body against his chest making his breath hitch.

“Why don’t you stay? I couldn’t let you go home this late, what if you get hurt?”

His mind is swirling, he feels a million miles away as your hands trace small patterns against the back of his neck. He needs to go. He needs to. But, fuck, why can’t he bring himself to pull away? Why can’t he leave?

“O-okay,” he stutters, barely aware of the affirmation leaving his mouth. A grin tugs at your lips before he continues. “But I’m on the couch, alright?” His last ditch effort at maintaining his control, too afraid to tempt the fates and share a bed with you.

Smirking, you sigh. “I’ll grab you some blankets,” you hum.

Gingerly hopping down from the counter you make your way through your room as Choso practically bolts outside.

Shit, shit, shit, he thinks. He shouldn’t be here. He should have gone home, he shouldn’t have even come on this date, he shouldn’t have kissed you at all. He should have ignored you, shoved down whatever feelings blossomed inside him, and continued his life the way he had always known: alone.

He can’t hurt you, he can’t. And deep down, the fear that he might, haunts him. Staying the night with you is a bad idea, prompting him to take risks he can’t afford. Solidifying his resolve he stands from the couch, grabbing his sport coat from where it had been thrown against the back of your kitchen chair and walking towards his shoes at the front door, before your voice calls from behind him.

“I just got you the same ones as last time, I hope that’s okay. You weren’t too cold or anything, right?”

Turning on his heel to face you, an involuntary smile, one torn between gratitude and fear, tugs at his lips. “No,” he murmurs, his resolution cracking as he returns to stand in front of you, collecting the blankets in his arms, “everything was perfect, thank you.”

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[womp-womp-waa]

Aiden was incapable of love.

Since the minute he was born he didn't know what love is and he was never shown what love is. Immediately, he was given a disadvantage from other kids. When children shared their toys with eachother and laughed with their friends, Aiden was alone at home being home schooled by a teacher who hated him. He didn't even learn what a hug was until he was seven!

So maybe that was it. Maybe he just never learnt how to love or maybe he was never made to love. That realisation wounded him deeply. Will he ever love? Did he deserved to be loved back? Everyone had someone who they loved, even his parents had eachother so why didn't he have someone. Was he really going to die alone? He didn't bother to get out of bed, what's the point anyways. He was going to die alone, so what was the point of trying anymore? Why should he care if he was destroying his body, why should that bother him?

He thought he could never love. Until he felt his first ever rush of adrenaline. It was his first time ever skydiving, his parents were forcing him to do it as it 'wasn't good for the family image if he just sat in his room alone all day". So he jumped out of that plan (with an instructor, of course) and that's when he met his first love. In the sky he felt free, not a worry in the world. He could love, maybe not people but he could love a feeling and that's more then he ever expected of himself.

But then he met Ashlyn, he was pushy at first. Invading her personal space, made her uncomfortable. But situations forced them together, so they both learnt about eachother and respected one another. They made efforts to understand eachother. Aiden wasn't sure what he was feeling towards Ashlyn, was it love? Aiden couldn't tell, he's never been able to love anyone before. But if this is what it felt like romantic or platonic, he never wanted to let this feeling go

[harkonnen-darkness]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 - Chapter One (Sneak Peek!)

Hi together! 🖤

I have to work spontaneously and therefore won't be able to finish writing the chapter this weekend. So here is an S.P. I'm still not sure whether "sexual advances" are already supposed to happen here. Maybe? 🤫

-> 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

Words: approx. 2k

Warning?: Reader feels a little uncomfortable because of him + Night-time in his chambers 🌌

It was so cold outside that frost flowers formed on the outside of the glass. The snowstorm could be seen even in the darkness, the wind could be heard softly. And although you were a warrior, you were relieved to be sheltered between thick walls. It wasn't warm in his chambers, but compared to outside it was a pleasant bliss. "Would you like to take a warm shower?" , Feyd suddenly asked you. You could hear mockery in his voice. He was making fun of you! Your eyelids formed into a narrow slit as you looked in his direction. "Ohh, don't look at me like that, little warrior! I can also throw you over the balcony into the icy snow and let you freeze to death. What do you prefer, huh?" , he grinned at you superiorly. His tone, however, warning. "A warm shower, Na-Baron." "That's what I thought." , he said as you dropped your gaze briefly and nodded. You only realized a few seconds later that you didn't have a change of clothes. At that moment, Feyd pressed a black bathrobe into your hands. "Oh, thank you." , you whispered in surprise and fled quickly into the large bathroom.

As soon as you stood under the warm jet of water, your muscles relaxed noticeably. You exhaled, savoring the warmth that embraced your body. The small dab of his dark blue shower gel in the palm of your hand smelled exactly like him. The scent reminded you a little of wet wood, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. You just hoped that your scalp was also happy with the gel, because you were too embarrassed to go to your chambers and just get shampoo. The pleasant scent of men spread throughout the bathroom and you inhaled it deeply before turning off the water. You carefully stepped out of the shower and grabbed an equally black towel. You fringed your hair as well as possible. You took a quick look at your body in the elegant mirror and recognized a few bruises, but they didn't hurt much (yet). Unfortunately, you slipped into your old underwear. Your body had to forgive you once. You would change it later. His bathrobe was unusually soft, he probably didn't wear it often. You smiled as the soft fabric enveloped your skin. You felt much more comfortable in your own skin than before. But your halfway good mood disappeared when you opened the door. Feyd was standing tensely in front of two of his harpies and you heard him say: "... because I have a guest." He then nodded in your direction, even though the two ladies had already seen you and were staring at you with wide eyes. The Harkonnen was leaning against the frame of the double door, which was slightly ajar.

Had he let them in? Did he want to, in your presence...? "Shall I be clearer, whores?" , he growled. They turned to him. He had never called them 'whores' before. Not in their presence. You became damn uncomfortable with what was happening before your eyes and you wanted to sink into the ground. Maybe Feyd should have thrown you off the balcony after all. "Should... should I go?" , you asked him. "Yes!" , came from the two ladies. "No!" , Feyd growled back in a raised voice and again told the female Harkonnens to leave. They realized that he was serious and gave in. However, they gave you another disgusted look. What were you doing? Actually, it was clear to you how that must look to them. You, late at night in his chambers, just out of the shower, in his bathrobe... Feyd slammed the doors and growled that you should just ignore them. You nodded silently, still a little overwhelmed by the sudden situation. He walked towards his closet and rummaged around in it. He tossed you a loose, simple black shirt, which you skillfully caught. "Be satisfied with that, or nothing at all!" , he grinned knowingly. Your cheeks flushed slightly and he looked at you for a second longer than he intended. The damn ego in him spoke up. When he disappeared into the bathroom, you hurriedly changed. The wide sleeves came down to your elbows and you were relieved when you saw in the large mirror at the other end of the room that it came down to your thighs. You were also able to bend down a little without danger, it covered your most private areas. It was clearly too wide for you, but you preferred it to being too short. You thought for a moment about grabbing a pair of sweatpants from his closet, but you didn't want to just rummage through his clothes. You also remembered his words.

Fear suddenly overcame your body as a question flashed through your mind. Were you supposed to spend the night here? Your breathing quickened and you felt like standing in the blizzard as heat shot through your body. An uncomfortable heat, it was fear. Was he planning to kill you? Strangle you in your sleep? You spotted two knives on his bedside table as you looked helplessly around the room. One perfect to hide up a sleeve or in a waistband, the other was the size of a dagger. You swallowed. Suffocate you in your sleep? More like stabbing you in your sleep! "Do you like them?" , his voice suddenly rang out, making you flinch. You hadn't heard him coming out. His body covered only by his long black sweatpants, you turned to face him. "They... they are pretty." , you tried to find words. With all your strength, you forced yourself not to look at his chest. "The large knife is made of rare steel. It wouldn't break even after hours in a fight." , he told you and you dared to examine it carefully. It was quite heavy. The handle was elegantly decorated with notches and felt good in hand. You turned it once with a flourish. Feyd's eyes watched your every movement, never taking his eyes off you. He also examined your bare legs and recognized a few scars. Some lighter, some darker. "Where did your scars come from? Training?" , he interrupted what you were doing. You looked at him with startled eyes. How exactly was he watching you? His expression was expressionless, waiting for an answer. "Yes, Na-Baron. Training and fighting. I'm often careless, but it’s getting better." , you tried to explain to him without sounding stupid. But was that even possible? Feyd had dropped onto his bed, one leg bent and his arms folded under his neck. "Careless in which way?" , he continued to ask. There was no mockery in his voice this time. Before you could answer, he ordered you to come closer to him.

You swallowed and hoped that he wasn't able to see your uncertain look in the dimmed light. As you sat down on the bed, his hands, cold from the shower, grabbed your legs. A small sound escaped your lips in shock. You quickly pulled the shirt between your legs with your hands so that he could see as little as possible. Feyd grinned, shaking his head. "It's nothing I haven't seen before." You looked at him briefly with shy eyes. However, a blush immediately appeared on his face and you had to break eye contact. You could still see a few scattered beads of water on his neck, shoulders and chest, which glistened a little in the faint light. "Mh-hm." , he made when he was done with your legs. He reached for one arm, then the next. Yes, you had a few scars. But they didn't bother Feyd visually. But probably still, as you said, a sign that you were rather careless or even clumsy. "How's the medicine on your home?" , he asked as he lowered your arm again. "I guess not as good as here." You answered honestly. Feyd laughed harshly for a moment. Yes, that was for sure! "But..." , he began, sinking into his pillows. "... they either show that you're completely clumsy. Or that you've already fought a lot. Which one is it, lady [y/l/n]?" , he asked at you. You thought about it for a moment, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "I hope the second, Na-Baron." , you whispered, daring to look at him again. The grin on his face hadn't disappeared. His eyes narrowed to a slit, visibly considering. "Despite your bruises? You've caught a few today." , he explained to you. You nodded in understanding and a sigh on your part filled the room. "I know that." , you assured him. "I'll try to do better, Na-Baron." "Try?" , he blurted out, and his loud voice made you flinch again. "No, [y/n]! You will improve! Do you understand?"

🖤 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! 🖤

[persephoneprice]

as a self-indulgent little treat i am thinking about persephone price meeting finnick odair (inspired by chats with @diiwata)

→ by some stroke of luck, festus creed hasn’t mysteriously died like many of their former classmates. he continues to work closely with coriolanus and as a result, persephone is expected at capitol social events.

→ this includes events related to the hunger games even though the thought makes her slightly ill. especially when there’s a victor for district 4. this year is worse than usual because the victor is a 14 year old boy.

→ persephone watches finnick charm the capitol citizens of his victor party. he’s nothing like mizzen- in looks or personality- but it’s still all she can think about.

→ by another stroke of (bad) luck, he comes to sit in the tucked away area she’s in to get away for a moment.

→ she makes polite conversation and asks him about district 4. it sounds different from the way mizzen described it, too much capitol propaganda. she wonders how mizzen would feel about district 4 now. she wonders if finnick ever collected sea shells like mizzen did.

→ she almost brings mizzen up- but fears someone important overhearing. president snow gets deeply upset at the mention of the 10th hunger games. livia cardew-snow has the bruises to prove it.

→ finnick is the one who brings him up in the end. mentioning that his mentor, mags, had a younger brother that didn’t survive the games and how he was glad he won because his death would have hurt her. he doesn’t know not to bring up things like that. he doesn’t know persephone is the reason mizzen is dead.

→ persephone shifts uncomfortably, she typically avoids mags at all costs. mags has never been hostile towards her, but there’s always a hint of accusation in her eyes when she looks at persephone. persephone knows she deserves it.

→ persephone is glad that mags could save finnick in the way that she couldn’t save mizzen. she finds herself wanting to do more, wanting to actually do something to stop the hunger games. she did nothing when mizzen died or when any other tributes died throughout the years. it just keeps going and she just keeps watching.

→ finnick is eventually stolen away by a woman persephone vaguely recognizes as a stylist. she doesn’t directly speak with him again until right after the 74th hunger games.

[aeide-thea]

anyway totally apropos of nothing i'm just thinking abt like. i really hate DNIs that are—i mean, i could've stopped there, i really hate DNIs period, i think they're performative and useless and naive, but. i really hate DNIs that use identity as a shorthand for the (mis)behavior the poster expects from people of that identity

like there's a Respected Butch Blogger on here who years ago posted something about a man at a bus stop, idk, attempting to strike up a conversation/hit on her*, something in that line, and made some comment to the effect of like, look at me, i'm obviously a butch dyke, he should've known i wasn't available to him! and i thought at the time, and still think now—the problem here was the creepiness/entitlement of this man's behavior! nobody should be chatting anyone up at a bus stop or grocery store (real example from a past stage of my own life 😞) or other practical public venue where like‚ they're just trying to do their thing and get home! but framing the problem as instead being about, essentially, an IRL failure to respect an implicit DNI, as though someone who presented differently would've been fair game for predatory treatment—i hated that then and i hate it now

[ultimately of course it's like. people sometimes frame things in shitty ways on their perblogs when they're upset and it's good to cut them a little slack abt that... but also like. in venting veritas]

and i just like. this is a disconnected patchy sort of post but you just see people going up these ladders that are like 'i assume Men are looking at me and having Gross Disrespectful Fantasies abt me in their heads and so i don't even want them clicking a silent heart on my posts'

and ultimately everyone's entitled to set whatever boundaries they like! but it just feels to me like. tbh you're spooling out a whole Gross Fantasy of yr own abt Men when like. instead you could just set a boundary about what kinds of comments are welcome. and even from whom! but like. why are we collapsing Man into Person Who's Inevitably Gonna Behave Invasively and Disrespectfully. like when the traditional model of masculinity also says that but with an accompanying smirky thumbs-up, and then you're saying that with a thumbs-down... idk. just like. where's the vision of a better world. bc like. i thought that was actually what we were trying to open the door for, personally!

ultimately i guess it's just like, our approaches are not compatible and i shd be grateful 2 their DNIs for making that clear to me, but. i really don't see how the master's tools (framing identity as shorthand for/inevitable predictor of undesirable behavior) ever dismantle the master's house (kyriarchy)

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

some Friendly Maintenance scribbles i forgot to post!

[sarcastic-clapping]

already seeing people who clearly don’t understand that a lot of us who are upset about what happened to marwa in this episode aren’t upset about the characters’ in-universe morality but the real life misogyny and racism in the way that this plot was handled lol

[sorrelchestnut]

are we still doing '"my dash did a thing?"

Because:

...I just got called the fuck out.