#and that i should aspire to nothing less

[kaisecayo]

I don’t think some of you understand to what extent Zeus and Hera love each other

Hera in no way hates her husband, and Zeus talks about her like she’s his everything, like she hung the stars and shaped them herself

Those two taught me what love looks like

[korusalka]

Local Woman Puts On Clown Shoes After Colleague Who Is Currently Off The Table Has Initiated Light Shoulder Touch And Prolonged Eye Contact

[lilac-5ky]

Sex with a Ghost (TojixFem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Date with a ghost

Chapter 2 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests | AO3

Summary: Being at the bottom of the ladder in your class with a non-combat oriented technique, you are prompted by Gojo to summon a dead sorcerer as a learning experience. However, when none other than Fushiguro Toji appears in your room, you find yourself practicing more than just your cursed technique.

Tags: Student!reader, Ghost!Toji, Age Gap(reader 18, Toji early 30s), Oral Sex (both f. and m. receiving), Manipulation, Corruption Kink, Praise, Degradation, Pet Names (princess, baby, etc), Cowgirl, Toji being a horny asshole that gets redeemed at the end? Sort of.

Word Count: less than 6k.

“But, sensei, is this really necessary?”

You tilted the sphere between your fingers, sizing it up. It weighed no more than a baseball ball did, yet its price must be comparable to that of an entire stadium. A cursed item among cursed items given to a mere grade 3 sorcerer who barely stood out amidst the renowned prodigies of Tokyo Jujutsu High. This was a waste of both time and effort and yet the white-haired man before you begged to differ, eyes glinting a vibrant sky-blue hue from underneath his dark shades.

“Doubting your favorite teacher, Y/N?” he chuckled only to sulk a second later when you asked him what deluded him into thinking he was your favorite.

Undeterred, he continued “I feel like a broken record here, but do yourself a favor and have a bit more confidence. Graduation is two months away, don’t you wanna prove your worth till then? It’s not too late to climb a couple of steps up the ladder. You could easily shoot up to Grade 2. Look at the rest of your class—”

A firm albeit reassuring grip latched itself onto your shoulder, gently twisting you in the direction of your classmates.

The heatwave must have gotten to them for good, blood boiling under the vicious sun rays. Their sleeves and pants were rolled high above their elbows and knees respectively, foreheads glimmering with a thin sheen of sweat that dribbled down their necks.

Just looking at them made your skin crawl with uneasiness.

You didn’t understand why anyone in their right mind would willingly trade the shade of these blessed pine trees for the scorching furnace that the schoolyard was, but when you stopped paying attention to their clothes and took in their blissful expression, you felt a lump swell in your throat.

The two of them were practically beaming, giggling, and prancing around the water fountains without a care in the world— and why should they have anything to worry about when they were Grade 1 at seventeen? A Kamo and a distant cousin to the Zen’ins, both guaranteed to walk a path strewn with rose petals since birth. No trial or tribulation whatsoever.

Your teacher’s voice was muffled into white noise while you were busy shooting daggers at the duo, part of you wishing to join them in their harmless idiocy, and another silently praying that in your next life, you’d be lucky enough to be born into one of their clans. No one questioned the value of a Kamo. No one went against a Zen’in with an inherited technique.

“So, we good? Tell me I didn’t waste 15 minutes of my precious time for nothing.” His fingers squeezed at your shoulder, causing your attention to shift.

You had no idea what he’d been saying, though you’d sat through plenty of pep talks already to guess the gist of it. “You have potential, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down like this. You can do it!” All empty words without real meaning. Worthless. Not everyone had what it takes to become the next Gojo Satoru. Some people were born to be stepping stones for others, and you were perfectly fine with it. No half-assed aspiration would spur you on.

“If I do this… will you leave me alone?”

A Cheshire cat grin spanned from one corner of his mouth to the other. If one didn’t know any better, they’d mistake Gojo for an overzealous teacher whose earnest goal was to see his students succeed. Not you. You’d spent enough time in his presence to know that his whole “Teacher of the Year” shtick hid an agenda of its own. It was a matter of time to find out what his true motive was.

“What’s the plan?”

“Now we are talking,” he sang in glee. “Very simple, really. You just hold this between your palms and channel as much cursed energy as possible to its center. The ball will absorb it like a magnet and continue drawing from you until you have a clear picture of your target. Then, assuming all goes well and you don’t pass out,” a quiet “What?!” was overwritten by his voice, “you’ll get your very own date with a spirit. Isn’t that exciting?”

Nothing about your expression screamed excitement, eyes squinting in slits and bottom lip quivering into a frown. “And who’s my target, exactly?”

“A Zen’in sorcerer,” he said.

“A Zen’in sorcerer you say,” your eyes wandered again to that soaked blockhead in the distance, the black mop he had for hair flapping left and right. “Ain’t the one over there good enough?”

Shaping a cone around his mouth, Gojo yelled at the top of his lungs for the kids to wait up so they could play together. The duo cheered excitedly, shouting some sort of inside joke you knew nothing about right back at him. Wasn’t the first time you were excluded, and it certainly wasn’t the first time you questioned how this man came to be the world’s most talented sorcerer, either.

“If he was, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” his smile softened as he lowered his voice. “The Zen’in I’m talking about has been dead for a little more than a hundred years now. Unfortunately, his name is erased from our logs,” of course it is “but that shouldn’t hinder you too much. He was an immensely powerful sorcerer with a great amount of cursed energy to back his technique up. An anomaly, if you like.”

“What kind of technique?” “The ten shadows technique,” he answered. “Out of all the Shikigami users, he is perhaps the strongest there’s ever been.”

“Stronger than you, sensei?”

The way his nose scrunched made you regret asking, knowing that a haughty declaration was dangling from the tip of his tongue, begging to be unleashed in a never-ending spiel of self-praise.

“And why should I invoke him in particular?” you quickly changed the subject. “I thought our goal was to hone my spirit-channeling technique and increase my cursed energy flow while we’re at it.”

“That we are doin’, but why not kill two birds with one stone? A new ten-shadow user has risen. I’m sure whatever trick that old dog has up his sleeve will be useful to our little Meg—” He feigned a smile of innocence at his slip. “All you gotta do is chit-chat him into giving you some info. Toss in a few compliments, butter him up. Shouldn’t take more than a few words to convince him, spirits are dying to be summoned— Oh well, unfortunate choice of words. What do you say? You’re in?”

Your groan was all the answer he required to beeline straight to the water fountains, his chirpy laugh echoing from afar. This guy, you huffed, examining the crystal ball anew. There was no way out of this. Either you did his bidding or you’d be forced to endure the obnoxious sound of his voice all summer long.

“Couldn’t you have chosen anything more cliche than a crystal ball?” you snarled, convinced he hadn’t heard you.

“Ouija board was already taken,” he warbled unexpectedly, voice meshing with that of your peers as they ran around in circles, dark-colored uniforms turning darker with every splash of water. “Besides, this has a bit of pink in it,” he referred to the rosy shaded base. “Much cuter than a bunch of rusty letters, right?”

You groaned as you shoved the item into your tote bag, making no mistake to talk out loud again as you turned on your heel. A pinch of jealousy punctured your chest, relieved by every step you took away from the scene and away from the fun the three of them were having.

“Looks like we’re having a date with a ghost tonight.”

It was a quarter past twelve when you decided to put that little experiment to work, the coast clear of overbearing parents and annoying little brothers who wanted nothing more than to disrupt your so-called “studying session”. As far as your family was concerned, Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College (Tokyo Jujutsu High for short) was your average educational institution that had somehow recognized the value of your mediocre grades and scouted you when you were still in middle school— no questions asked from either side.

You wouldn’t go as far as to call your own family a bunch of dimwits, but the signs were all there. A teacher merely four years older than you were, his odd sartorial decisions only second to his eccentric personality. A class made up of four students dramatically and suddenly decreasing to a party of three. An unknown man in a suit and tie driving you back and forth between “emergency study dates” in the dead of night. The lack of studying material in your backpack as opposed to the exams you constantly stressed over. Your unreasonable reaction when your mother stored a cursed tool in with the silver cutlery.

Even if you straight up walked to them with a banner that read “I exorcise curses”, you doubted they’d have anything more to say than a plain “Good for you”, not because they were stupid, but because they simply didn’t care at all.

They didn’t care enough to bat an eye when seven-year-old you tugged at daddy’s trousers, whimpering about a squid-like creature sneaking in your closet, and didn’t care enough to try and justify the stream of water flooding down the corridor. They didn’t care that your imaginary friends were more akin to monsters, and they didn’t care about you being away from home 350 days a year. It was convenient not to. That’s how they were able to drink their woes away at the local bar on a Thursday night with a clear conscience, having offloaded that pest of a brother at your grandparents’ for the fifth consecutive night.

Poor kid. If he wasn’t so despicable, your big sister instincts might have kicked in and raised an objection, though as things currently were suited you best. Rituals required focus, and you needed to make sure no one would bust through the door and interrupt your conversation with Mister Whatever-his-name-was.

You’d taken care of all your basic needs —eating a reheated portion of lasagna, cleansing your body of the worldly filth that stained it, catching a rerun of your favorite show’s latest episode, and cursing Gojo for making you miss it in the first place— and were now seated on your room’s floor with the crystal ball nesting between your bare thighs, the cold sensation much welcome on this excruciatingly warm evening where sitting on the fuzzy carpet seemed like the greatest torture imaginable.

It was only March and you were already in your skimpiest outfit of all; a frilly pair of dusty-pink shorts and a matching low-cut tank top dressing your sweat-beaded body. Dark spots saturated the fabric, demanding your fingers fanned it every two seconds. The worst had yet to come. By the time summer arrived, the final thing for you to crawl out of would be your own skin.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you returned to the item at hand. It’d been fairly long since you’d last performed a seance. Your role in the recent assignments was to support your classmates from the sidelines, exorcising whatever lower-grade curse got in their way with the aid of various cursed tools.

The white-haired nuisance could claim your technique was useful all he wanted, but at the end of the day, yours were simply not meant for combat. Best case scenario, after graduation, the higher-ups would put you on a 9 to 5 job, where you could dig whatever intel they wanted from the comfort of your cramped-up desk; away from your haughty classmates, and away from Gojo Satoru.

You rolled your fingers around the globe’s surface, pads tingling with waves of cursed energy as they seeped into the crystal. Slowly, a dark purple aura came to distort its translucence with colors and shapes of various magnitudes. Shadow-like forms gathered at the seams, remnants of pent-up energy colliding and converging with one another at one focal point. All ready to go!

You began mentally chanting the surname of your target, over and over again until the slideshow of foggy faces diminished to that of a select few candidates from the same bloodline. Some, you would imagine had died when they were still in their prime, measly fledglings of sorcerers with eyes retaining that youthful glossiness, while others seemed to have lived enough to see themselves turn into dehydrated raisins with next to zero cursed energy left.

Once you’d gone through your classmate’s entire family tree at least three times, you caught yourself admitting that despite their faults and innate air of pretension, the Zen’ins weren’t particularly hard on the eyes. Especially that one guy whose mug kept reappearing at random intervals, the slanted scar of his lips lingering in your mind well after the next contender’s appearance. There was something about him, be it the lack of aura he emitted or the viridescent hue of his eyes that had you replaying the frame at the expense of your own energy.

You were drawn to him in an inexplicable way that, at the time, you attributed to fate. It had to be him, right? That must have been why the dope you had for a mentor insisted on calling this a date. Even if he didn’t know the sorcerer’s name, he must have known how insanely attractive the guy was, right?

And suddenly, you felt a sliver of gratitude overcome you, eyelids snapping shut with the Zen’in sorcerer’s face as clear as day behind them, while you chanted the incantation Gojo himself had taught you.

“From the murky shroud of oblivion, I invoke thou out the shadows and blight to bask in heavenly light. Through me gain life, and through life gain thine blessed power.”

No more than a few seconds had passed when you heard a thud, your gaze meeting with that of the very man you’d summoned.

The orb barely did him any justice. Not as if crystal balls were ideal measuring instruments, but you’d need about ten more of those to depict his height as he towered over you, the bulky frame of his shoulders casting a large shadow on the wall behind your head. He was dressed in a much more casual manner than one would expect of someone who’d been dead for over a century, with corded veins and taut muscles peaking underneath a black compression shirt, waist accentuated where his hips met with a pair of baggy pants. And once you got to his face— you must have lost track of time staring into the gem-like green orbs of his eyes, considering you didn’t notice the scowl his lips wore until his tone pointed it out.

“The hell is this?” He sounded just like he looked, the bass of his timbre ringing most pleasantly in your ears.

You wouldn’t know what being dead felt like, but if it was anything remotely close to sitting on a dead leg for hours on end, you guessed he’d rather take a moment to adjust over an answer.

His soles circled the tiny space, eyes dancing between the fairy lights on the wall, the moonless sky —and by extension the empty driveway outside your window—, the three Polaroids on your desk that depicted an old family trip to Seoul (your mother silently accusing him from the frame for the crime of wearing his shoes inside the house), and lastly, you. His gaze feasted on your body as if he’d been starved for ages and you were the first oasis in the desert, his expression gradually easing into a lopsided smile as he cocked his head to the side.

“Got a name, sweetheart?” he asked in a syrupy sweet tone, the nickname he’d come up with making you doubt he’d use your actual name even if you shared it.

You set the ball aside and hopped on your feet, standing on somewhat more equal ground, though not equal enough to completely diminish the difference in height. He was massive, and you were still processing the kind of person that possessed the power to end this man’s life.

“Name’s Y/N,” you extended your hand. “You must be master Zen’in, nice to meet you!”

He merely glanced at your gesture, leaving you to embarrass yourself without a single qualm. “No one’s called me that in some time,” he expressed wryly. “You know about me?”

You nodded, wiping your palm against your shorts. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen a spirit act all high and mighty, a Zen’in at that. “Who hasn’t heard of the greatest sorcerer there’s ever been?” you chuckled, Gojo’s bootlicking advice coming in for the clutch. “You are somewhat of a legend in the Jujutsu world. The one who mastered the ten shadows technique like no other.”

“Is that who I am now,” he pondered out loud, his index briefly scratching his jaw. “I guess I am,” he grinned with confidence. “That why you summoned me? Wanted to meet with great ol’ me in person?”

“Something like it,” you admitted, finding it hard not to smile back. “I just so happen to be acquainted with this idiot who’s a big fan of yours. Had me use my technique for a passing grade.”

A low hum prompted you to continue. “He’s a real pain in the ass,” you groaned. “Calls himself ‘the strongest’ and acts as if he’s ‘teacher of the year’ when he forces me to fish out intel like some lackey— Actually, you might have heard of his family name before, they’ve been around for ages. Gojo,” quickly adding “Satoru.”

At the sound of your teacher’s name, the man’s eyes widened, his darkened pupils blown with an emotion akin to rage. You weren’t sure what great calamity the Gojos had brought upon him in his previous life, but being familiar with their descendant you doubted they put much effort into it.

“The six eyes is your teacher?” he asked, not giving you enough time to question how on earth he knew that title before he pitched in another question. “So, ya just a kid, huh?”

“I’m not!” you objected. “Turned 18 a while ago.”

“A while, you say?” he arched a brow.

“I’m closer to 19 if anything,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“19,” he mocked, his droopy eyelids incapable of hiding the way he sized your figure up.

You didn’t even think to put on a bra before the ritual started. Just like you could vividly picture what his pecs looked like under his clothes, your flimsy outfit left little to the imagination, the sweat that’d shimmered across your collarbones and cleavage working in your favor.

“Nah, you are right. No kid could ever have a body like that. Plump and ripe in all the right places,” his tongue lapped over his bottom lip, salacious stare prodding at what your arms kept hidden. “That’s a woman’s body, no doubt.”

Heat spread from your chest all the way to your cheeks, and for once, it wasn’t because of the room’s overbearing heat. Your toes sunk inside the carpet, thighs awkwardly rubbing together. You’d found yourself in such a position before, yet never with a boy like him— never with a man like him.

“Th-thank you,” you mumbled, your fingers hesitantly sliding down your elbows.

He took a step closer, lacking hesitation as he lifted your chin with two fingers, his thumb gently caressing it.

“Gonna let me look at the rest, baby?” his other hand encompassed your hip, the size of his palm alone making you feel oh-so small and fragile before him. “I’ll make ya a deal if you lemme. Tell ya anything you wanna know and more— heh, I’ll make sure ya pass with flying colors.”

“I don’t… I’m not-”

Depriving you of the chance to deny his advances, the man slotted his lips between yours and pulled back almost instantaneously, overjoyed to catch you leaning into his touch for more.

You weren’t sure why this was happening— why you were letting this happen. He was a stranger who barely qualified as being alive, and at the time of his death, he was closer to your father’s age than yours. But he was there, and he was paying you attention, and the way he spoke to you as if he already knew your answer ahead of your mouth had warmth spiraling to the lower parts of your body.

Rather than giving in to your pouty lips, the man whose name you didn’t even know cupped your breasts in both his hands, calloused thumbs making quick work of your nipples as they peaked below the drenched fabric, rolling the sensitive buds into full hardness.

“Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he praised, kneading at your supple skin almost adoringly.

The straps of your top slid down your shoulders, and you felt the ghost of a smile press onto your neck, his warm mouth smearing wet kisses right to where your neck and shoulders connected. You bit back a sigh, your breath audibly strained.

“Bet you wanna be touched, hmm?” he continued, finding the sweet spot you didn’t know you had, and pressed on, his sharp teeth digging into your flesh coaxing a purr from deep within your throat. He chuckled, the vibrations making you shudder. “That why you’re dressed like a slut? Wanna be treated like one, mm?” his lips parted again, tongue lapping over the delicate bruise his teeth left as he pinched your nipples harshly. A moan was ripped from your slack jaw, the insult he carelessly threw adding to the slick between your thighs.

“Sounds about right,” he smirked. “Well, I’m not complaining. You’re a sight for sore eyes, kitten.”

He didn’t ask for permission before he tugged at your shirt, your breasts spilling out with a single bounce. You saw him wet his lips once more, fingers seizing your now-exposed nipples and lustful eyes admiring them up close. You hadn’t noticed how close he was standing until his hips bucked against yours, alerting you to how painfully hard he’d gotten underneath his pants. The six-year-long refractory period his body was subjected to was far too cruel— though you wouldn’t know about that until much later.

“Tell me,” he requested, pausing just so he could look you dead in the eye. “Have you ever done this before?”

His lips traversed the valley of your breasts, rough palms sliding languidly across your ribs and waist. You could see him hold you like that while being inches deep in you. Slamming your frail little set of bones against your desk’s wooden surface. Pounding your hole for your parents to return to their precious daughter bent in half by some stranger. Bruising Gojo’s star student until the smug smile was wiped from his obnoxious mouth for good.

All those reasons made you nod at his question, not caring that he’d be ten times rougher because of your white lie. If anything, you looked forward to that.

“Sure you’re not lying to me?” he read your mind like an open book, the elastic of your shorts being torn away from your body. “Won’t be mad if y’are. I love myself a sweet little virgin. Love how whiny their voices get. How,” he lowered himself onto his knees, palm pushing you to sit on your bed “cute their little tight cunts look all stretched around me.”

His hot breath fanned over your soaked panties, index lazily rubbing back and forth between your clothed slit, the added friction sending a pleasurable tingle up your spine.

“You really aren’t one, are ya?”

You shook your head repeatedly like a bobblehead doll, propping your weight onto your elbows as he lifted your legs on his shoulders, the reality of his choppy raven hair nuzzling to your thighs finally hitting you.

“You said all you wanted to do was look, right?” the finger that was hooked around your underwear stopped. “That was the deal…”

For a brief yet conscious second, his eyes bore into yours with such spite that you thought you’d completely messed up. Only a virgin would dare say something this stupid. If he wasn’t bound to you by the ritual, he’d be out the door the moment you spat those words, you knew it, but then his knuckles brushed over your abdomen to find the hand that clenched onto the sheets, and you realized that wasn’t the case.

“Deals get altered and terms renewed all the time,” he mumbled distractedly, deeply inhaling your scent on his nose, while your fingers unfolded between his lips. You gasped, the sight of him fucking them in and out his mouth —tongue slithering right in the middle and saliva dribbling down his chin as he popped them out— enough to hypnotize whatever sense out of your brain.

“I’ll make ya a new deal,” he hummed, gently directing them to your mouth as if he beckoned you to do the same. A smirk tugged at his scar as he watched your pink lips obediently part and round around your own fingers. He didn’t let go until he heard you choke, secretly plotting to replace them with something else—sooner, than later.

“My technique is what interests you, right? How about instead of telling you, I show you?”

You tried to remove your hand, but he shoved it back in, his true colors pouring into a devilish smile. “I’ve had enough of your voice. All you gotta do is sit back like the good little girl I know you are and keep your legs nice and spread for me. How’s that?”

The only thing your head could manage was pathetically bob up and down in agreement, your fingers stuck in your mouth like a damn pacifier, while your cunt pulsed at every single word he uttered; derogatory or not. Were it any other guy talking down to you like that, your knuckles would be leaving an impermanent imprint on his cheek. Were it any other guy treating you as if you had no volition of your own as if you were just a toy for him to break, and you—

There wouldn’t be any other guy for you ever again. He’d make sure of it.

He ripped the fabric into a single shred and tossed it over his shoulder without caring where it landed- your bedside lamp. He looked down at your pussy, debating to himself whether to start with his tongue or fingers first, calculating the time it’d take for him to prep you for his cock down to the last second. He might’ve been a lot less nice than he pretended to be, but he wasn’t about to go out of his way to hurt you. Not intentionally, at least.

“Let’s see,” he tipped forward, the way his forefinger slipped between your folds without any resistance whatsoever bringing you shame. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, his digit triumphantly pulling out and smearing your slick all over your puffy lips. “Is that all for me, sweetheart? So fucking wet just for me?”

Your hips bucked forward as an answer to his question and he thought he wouldn’t mind taking things slow for once— see how much you could take before you came completely undone.

“Girls like you make the best fuck,” he cooed, voice echoing right through your core. “Surrendering to the first sweet word they hear.” His thumb circled your clit, flicking at the little bundle of nerves. “Leaking at the slightest of touch.” His middle and ring fingers joined in the action, burying themselves as far inside walls as your tight hole let him push. “Breaking so easily.” He drooled, coating your entire pussy in his thick saliva before allowing himself a taste, tongue lapping at the mix of juices straight from the source.

Your thighs clenched around him, muffling the lewdness of a whimper as he looked up at you, his smirk loosening with every kitten lick across your flesh. You wanted to say something, to call out his name and moan for him, but it all felt so unpracticed— similarly to how unpracticed your cunt was when it came to the girth of his fingers; much bigger than yours, more experienced too. He reached depths you didn’t know existed, bringing your body such pleasure that had you writhing for more, hips slamming against his face.

He groaned, his own arousal throbbing against his lower abdomen, begging him to get this over with. “Wanna fuck my face, baby?”

You felt your cheeks ignite anew, the eyes you’d fallen for at first sight overflowing with lust, convincing you it felt as good for him as it felt for you.

“Can’t let ya do that,” he parted your folds, fingers spreading your thighs apart while his tongue darted between your lips, his nose intentionally nudging the pink nub with each deep stroke against your spongy spot. “Gotta earn it first.”

You stared at him like an idiot, wondering to yourself if somewhere between his refusal to shake your hand and his eagerness to quench his thirst with your body you’d passed away because that was what heaven ought to feel like. That was what angels ought to look like.

“Got something to say, princess?” his eyes shot up and he gestured for you to unlatch your mouth.

“S-so pretty,” you whispered.

“What was that?” his ears perked up, not because he hadn’t heard you the first time, but because he could do with some affirmation himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this… f-fuck—” a yelp punched its way out of your lungs as he folded you in half, pinning your thighs onto your stomach, and crawling onto the bed right after them.

He’d had enough of this little game.

“Good girls shouldn’t cuss like that. Six eyes didn’t teach ya that?”

Holding you down with one hand, he dived back into your pussy, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a furious pace that had your upper body tossing and turning, the first unregulated moans ushering him to keep going. His tongue toyed with your swollen bud, the squelching of your cunt growing significantly louder from this angle, reverberating throughout the four walls of your bedroom. You were close, and so was he to getting his dick wet with all the mess he’d helped create.

His mouth watered just at the thought of his seed being the one to dribble down your thighs instead of his spit. He could picture you in one of those cute blue-navy skirts hanging from your closet and hoped you weren’t a tights person. He wanted to see you off to school every morning with your thighs sticking together so deliciously that anyone smart enough would understand how meticulously he’d fucked the brat out of you—

If only there was a mirror for you to see how stunning you looked. All fucked out and writhing, disheveled hair stuck on your tits and forehead while you nuzzled to the pillows, your shaky voice calling out to the surname he’d left behind. Would you still do that if you knew he played you like a fiddle? If you knew he was no esteemed Zen’in or sorcerer, for that matter, but a man hell-bent on ruining you for his own sick satisfaction?

Your body reciprocated his vile thoughts, your pussy fluttering around his digits. “Gonna cum for me?” he panted, forcing your legs to the side lest he missed a reaction.

Neither of you realized how his one hand had sneaked into his pants, stroking his veiny cock closer to the ecstasy he craved. Precum leaked hot out of the reddened tip, his thumb frantically swiping it over his length in sync with his thrusts. He’d stopped listening to your pleas and instructions. He fucked his fingers in you as he pleased, slowing down only when his balls began to dangerously tighten. Only then did he tear his fingers away ‘cause God forbid he busts his load in his palm like some fucking untouched teenager— regardless of how obscenely pretty you appeared for him or not.

Once he regained his composure, words made sense again. Harder. Faster. More. He hated being told what to do but absolutely loved how pliant you were. A people-pleaser, he bet. Going above and beyond what was asked of you, bending and breaking into whatever molds others force you to fit. He could work with that. Shape you into a mold only he could fit in.

“Cum for me, baby. Show me how much prettier y’ can get.”

His cock twitched as he felt your walls clamp down around his fingers, your sweet face contorting with pleasure, lips swollen with how hard they’d tried to contain the last bits of debouched decency.

How cute.

He set your legs down and moved up to meet your face with his, a wave of genuine softness rushing over him as he thought to kiss your lips tenderly, hushing whatever emotion had you spasming. You were so sensitive. Even if you’d been with another guy before him, he doubted they knew what they were doing— not like he did, anyway. He’d make you scream out his name for the neighbors to hear what a dirty slut lived just next door from them.

After a short while of his stroking your hair and whispering filth into your ears, he decided he’d been good enough to get his trick. He took your hand in his and guided it to his cock, grinning like a little kid as your smaller palm traced the outline over his pants, knowing full well both hands would do nothing to cover his girth.

He’d really missed this— so much that he didn’t mind letting a grunt out in appreciation, certain that more would follow.

Your eyes met, the spark in them telling him you understood what he expected you to do, and even if you didn’t, he’d teach you. He’d teach you everything, snatch you from that piece of shit and make you into his star student, so long as you kept touching him and let him do all the things he’d spent the last thirty minutes fantasizing about.

Everything and anything, all for you to take—

The thoughts that failed to reach your ears along with all traces of the man whose weight alone -up until a moment ago- threatened to crush your body into a fine powder evaporated, the smooth sound of his voice replaced by the crude breaks of your father’s car as he pulled into the driveway— your mother’s kitten heels soon clicking atop every step they climbed.

Shit.

A/N: I actually intended for this to be a one-shot, but I guess it sort of ended on a cliffhanger so, oops. Lemme know if I should write a second and final part, or if you have any Toji ideas/requests ♡

[throwaway-yandere]

And The Sun Is Silent (Yandere!Wriothesley/Reader)

Unreliable Synopsis: You, a former writer, received a fan letter. Truly a curious thing, for the contents appear more personal than what it should be.

A/n: I am not back. I posted this cuz first off, I adore Joe Zieja and all his works and I was so hyped when I saw he voiced Wriothesley and second, mfer gave me C4 qiqi. i love my daughter but cmon wrio, I literally got the same haircut as you do now-

CW: nothing really. Just a lil mind frick ig

“When I saw his hands wrapped around his dearest new spouse, cutting that vile wedding cake together, I wanted nothing more than to take that knife and slit his throat.”

(Y/n) was a serialized author in Fontaine whose works were primarily geared towards detective novels. However, their words were less laced with objectivity and “irrefutable facts” as the heavy pockets do when spinning their tales. Unfortunately, they weren’t meant to fill their coffers with hit-release masterpieces. (Y/n)– pen name “Maestro Justiniano” – was more engrossed in the perpetrators' psychology like the barkeeps and magicians do. They were the main characters– the sung hero of the tale. The glorified violence thrived in each passing page for the only mystery to be solved was “who will they target next?”

If young fans of other authors were seen as aspiring detectives or law enforcers, those who were known as fans of the Maestro were unjustifiably labeled as “future degenerates.” For (Y/n), it was funny. Overhearing grandparents waste their already fleeting energy to scold their grandchild’s love for their sinful work was their source of joy.

But (Y/n) (L/n) was not Maestro Justiano in public.

They were Duke Wriothesley’s spouse. Maestro Justiano is but a shade and (Y/n) is a human. The maestro does not feed on earth nor mora, but (Y/n) is obliged to. He bought his title, and he bought his spouse.

Gone was their free fourth finger. With a golden shackle, they sealed their fate to a wealthy man for table scraps. Perhaps it is fortunate that he is generous with his pockets, but to (Y/n), they would rather starve themselves writing than sit through another seminar about the nation’s ever-changing laws.

The Maestro’s life used to be so full of thrill; the “pelf” they received for each writing commission was a life worth their breaths. 

The Maestro’s life used to be coated in moonlight; sneaking out and running gigs was their bread and butter.

But now the sun is silent, and (Y/n) stands with a tail behind their legs. 

“(Y/n), do you need anything?”

Wriothesley asked even when he could guess the answer. Lazily, (Y/n) shifted from the covers, peering over with half-closed eyes.

“Nothing, Your Grace.” (Y/n) yawned. “Close the door.”

The Duke nods, understanding their fatigue. He silently shuts the door, and nothing of interest is to be noted afterward.

This has been their canned script every Wednesday to Friday without fail for the past 3 years. 

In (Y/n)’s eyes, Wriothesley is a mere animal with whom they mate for survival. Barely any true emotional trysts occurred in their first two years of marriage. They’re a “friend” of fortune. With him always away from home, (Y/n) is left with nothing but their thoughts. 

The nights were warm, but the mornings were cold. 

And the sun is silent.

Their husband has never been quite the same after an incident during their 2nd year of marriage. 

On the night they were attacked in the comfort of their shared home, a gear in his head was stolen.

Wriothesley held them, audibly more alarmed and broken than (Y/n)– the victim– was. He shook, afraid of what you must’ve gone through in his absence. Robbery, that’s what the records say. An armed man entered their home with the intent to steal. Black were his gloves and hair. The perpetrator thought they had been away on a business trip and pulled the trigger by surprise when they emerged from the kitchen. 

That thief had failed to steal material possessions, but their husband had lost his good of intellect. He cannot stand the notion of leaving them alone. What is a collector’s item if it’s not in great condition? Wriothesley has locked the gates and kept (Y/n) in, and he’ll continue to do so to preserve their value.

“I want to meet you somewhere someday, in a place where the sun is no longer silent. I want to crawl and bury myself under your skin where I can read through your mind. The house is too quiet. I want to trace your collarbones. I want to bite into your flesh, and I need you to look into my eyes as I tear myself apart. I am in love with you, (Y/n). It’s unbelievable, but it’s true. I live within these walls. I am what keeps you grounded with a golden ring. But why does the sun hide from me?”

Despite how much closer the couple are now, (Y/n) feels more distant than before. Not that they had the right to say "The duke was not the man I married" when they rarely talked— but it surely felt that way.

And in one Sunday night, the forcibly retired author used their words not to immerse readers, but to intimidate guards to grant entry to their "beloved" husband's office.

"You fucking bitch…"

"Lovely to see you too, honey."

"You made me lose my job!!!"

"Here I thought you refer to it as a side-line."

"Are you fucking for real right now?!" They screamed and slammed a fist down on the table. The pain hasn't hit them yet as their unbridled shock and rage hit overdrive. "Since when did you have the right to just take my–"

"Your hobbies away?" Wriothesley placed down his chamomile tea and shrugged. "Honey, I'm not doing anything like that. No, I'm only protecting you."

"Oh, great!" They waved a hand around dramatically before slapping it back to their thigh, rolling their eyes. "Let me guess, there's a biiiig explanation that fits into one giant puzzle."

"You know me too well for someone who never initiates conversation." He smiled mockingly. 

"You're right. Court Dense Publishing House is being investigated for numerous allegations. Toxic working environment, which included stalking and superiors leveraging pay for sexual favors might I add, and tax fraud. The details of the latter will bore you." Wriothesley continued.

He sighed. "Can't you tell? I'm just being a decent husband. What if you were being harassed and you were afraid to tell me?" 

"Like hell, I was–" They took a sharp deep breath in. "Listen. Let me get back to my work and we won't have any problems, Your Grace."

"No can do. You're an ex-Maestro now."

“And you're an ex-con.” They quickly retorted.

…

…

“... You're calling me an ex-con?" Wriothesley laughed dryly. The lone sound made them inch their heels slightly backward.

His eyelids lowered as his dull gray eyes peeked behind underneath his tilted glare.

They had never seen him this serious.

"Who do you think turned me into one?”

…

…

…

They blinked.

His words– though not making sense without context– carried a heavy weight they had unfortunately missed.

His gaze and words were accusingly pointed.

At them.

…

…

Wriothesley laughed.

"I'm kidding, of course. Don't be so tense."

(Y/n) didn't laugh.

He smiled. They can't tell if it was fake or not. He's been too good at pretending to be nice that they never knew when he genuinely dropped the act.

Like Maestro Justiniano, that argument is history now. 

And maybe that's why (Y/n) first thought it would be a comforting experience to read a story written by an avid fan.

It was a long manuscript. Sigewinne claimed it came from a fellow Melusine who wanted her favorite author's thoughts on how to write a criminal male lead. When asked for the writer's name, she refused to say it. (Y/n) respected it since they too posted anonymously…

But this reading sounds less like a professional job and more like a stalker's confession…

“When I first finished a book of yours in two sittings, I had formed a vague fantasy on how you looked like. You were a tall man, thin, long-necked, sharp-nosed, with a body slightly bent forward. Needless to say, I was stoked to find that description failed to perfectly describe who you were in person. I hope that with my new appearance, my description perfectly describes how your husband used to look as well. These black gloves just don’t fit me right.”

These black gloves…?

"Honey, I'm home!!! Oh, and Sigewinne's here too."

As soon as they heard the door open, (Y/n) shoved the fan's manuscript inside their drawer. Wriothesley hates seeing any semblance of creative writing inside the house.

"Can you brew two cups of tea for us?" Wriothesley asked as he removed his jacket, placing it recklessly on the sofa. "We're exhausted."

(Y/n) nodded. They never tell him how they make his tea. For a bottle weighing 8 fl oz, they'd take a rounded scoop of sunsettia powder to the pitcher and pour steamed 2% milk to whatever was the appropriate line. Once aerated for 3 seconds, they fill it with their macha mix with ¼’’ foam and ¾’’ more below the rim for the aesthetic. 

The process is not as difficult as it sounds, but they like withholding information. Why else won't friends and family know that they're a prolific writer, right?

"Sure. I'll be right back."

They left.

Their “husband” picked up the letter they hastily hid, a faint smile playing on his face.

Were you frightened after reading it? 

How did his favorite author react?

He wished he knew. But he’s no detective– he’s a present “degenerate”. He won’t find clues just by looking at the parchment. "Wriothesley" placed it back to where it was earlier and adjusted his black gloves to fit just right. 

“Wriothesley” glanced at Sigewinne with a giddy smile.

“So, do you think they liked my writing?”

"(P.S: I finally figured out how you make your coffee. It's 3 pumps of Fonta, 1 shot of espresso roast, chilled milk, and stirred with ice. This unique combination would've perplexed me if I didn't find out you made it out of spite. 

But it does taste good. I promise. After all, in the cold solitude of your sunless prison, I'll be the one brewing you coffee. May each sip be a reminder of my affection. The sun may be silent too in the Fortress, but maybe in there, you'll finally appreciate my warmth.")

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY DORIAN PAVUS  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

i don't care what they think about me. i care what they think about us.

i like you. more than i should. more than might be wise.

discretion isn't your thing, is it?

all this dancing, politics, and murder makes me a bit homesick.

i suppose it really depends. how bad do you want to be?

living a lie... it festers inside of you, like poison.

i'm a man of many talents. what can i say?

the moment i saw you, i thought "there's a man who knows quality."

if you don't come through this, i swear i'll kill you.

i'm curious where this goes, you and i. we've had fun. perfectly reasonable to leave it here.

here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal.

i tease you too much, i know.

i'll have to find something we can do that doesn't involve teasing.

time to drink myself into a stupor. it's been that sort of day.

i see you enjoy playing with fire.

i like playing hard to get.

i'm not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity.

if it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. you're good at that.

talk to me. let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.

oh, i'm not arguing. just pointing out the ridiculously obvious.

if you choose to leave your door unlocked like a savage, i may or may not come.

now... what was i talking about? ah, yes. me.

i am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts.

i prefer the company of men.

would you prefer me bound and leashed?

sometimes the ones you love are also the ones who disappoint you the most.

you are the man i love, [name]. nothing will truly keep us apart.

the things you ask are just... very personal.

sometimes... love isn't enough.

there will always be an "us." we'll just be... farther apart, for a time.

i had no idea something like you was possible.

i'm imagining what you would look like in a dress.

i've never seen you smile so much!

i have no idea what you're talking about.

you stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest.

you're shaping the world for good or ill. how could i aspire to do any less?

my footsies are freezing, thank you.

don't you ever bathe?

you're not suggesting we're similar.

watch where you're pointing that thing!

i'm not wearing a skirt.

it's significantly more impressive than hitting them with a sharp piece of metal.

i only meant to say i'm very sorry for your loss.

we can continue this dance forever, if you wish.

i'm saying we should be careful what we assume when it comes to such matters.

demons don't appreciate a man with good hair.

what i wouldn't give for some proper wine.

your outfit's entertaining. i'll give you that.

he had to leave early on account of assassination.

it's nice to know you have friends.

i'm here to do what is right.

come on, just answer the question.

they were asking me about you. personal things.

you said we'd be ass-deep in trouble. this is more like knee-high.

so what's your estimation? think we can win?

you can't call me pampered. nobody's peeled a grape for me in weeks.

you startled me. you're always so... nondescript.

you're a special and unique snowflake. live the dream.

i wanted to see you make flowers bloom with your song. just once.

you've done a lot less dancing naked in the moonlight than expected.

i've never seen anyone in this part of the world do it.

i realize there's more to you than that.

have i offended you?

for hating the outdoors, you sure seem to like bad weather.

i can't figure you out, [name].

you don't play their stupid game, they send an assassin or three your way.

i can't believe you're scared of magic.

i'm going to take that as a compliment.

still don't like me, [name]? after all this time?

[name], i owe you an apology.

i suspect people will use any excuse to hate us.

why be ashamed? power should be respected, not swept under the carpet.

maybe you're not a complete moron.

i just need to know you're capable of higher thought. for my own comfort.

it would take work. and soap. lots and lots of soap.

[ddoxhan]

my love is all mine

my baby here on earth showed me what my heart was worth so, when it comes to be my turn could you shine it down here for her?

word count : 4.4k words

genre : fantasy; alternating between fluff and angst that would make your heart clench; childhood best friend! aeri x pianist (but actually a time traveler)! reader; arriving at this dimension, you realized how much you still love her

t/w : mentions of death, apocalypse thingz

a/n : full version out weeeeee :D that was some roller coaster of realization and pain knowing that nothing lasts but one thing :') please do leave some feedback so I can improve when it comes to plot heavy fics and enjoy !

tic, tic, tic, tic.

'where am I?'

your surroundings were unfamiliar, as it should be. but with it, came a sense of comfort. whenever you warped through the portal, your head would hurt like the worst hangover for a while. but this time, it unusually hurt less. you were sitting by the piano, a music sheet of chopin, perhaps. you weren't the most well-versed around music.

you stood from the piano stool to slowly observe the things in the room in hopes of gathering more information about this person. undoubtedly, you looked like yourself but this body you possessed wasn't you. you were orphaned, barely survived the apocalypse of your own world, thrown into a dystopian organization served to stop further apocalypses in other worlds.

learning about the countless dimensions you had to travel to, surely, this one couldn't differ more than the rest. the person who lived as you in this world had everything you had ever wanted. loving and supportive parents, friends who were always there for her, a promising future career as an aspiring pianist. but as you gain the memories of this person, the depressing emotions were rather contradicting.

this person felt lonely amidst of everyone, she never felt understood. no one had ever saw through those smiles and laughs. not even this girl who looked like her best friend. then tears started to flow down your cheeks uncontrollably. it couldn't be. she couldn't be.

feeling a little dizzy, you took a seat on the piano stool as you dried your tears and tried to wrap your head around the current situation. of the many dimensions, why this one? you tried so hard to forget everything about her, drown down emotions that were unnecessary for your line of work. it had been forever since the last time you had thought of her. and this time, she wasn't going to just be a memory.

as the metronome lulled you into a daze, you were brought back out of it by the sudden swing open of the bedroom door.

"hey! we literally said to meet up at our usual place! what's taking you so long?"

"huh?"

a girl barged into your room and folded her arms against her chest, seemingly upset that you had stood her up. but you couldn't seem to remember when you had made that promise to her.

it was her. it had been so long, too long since you've seen her with your own eyes. you didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse that you had never encountered her in the past dimensions. but seeing her in front of you, it was getting really hard to not break down in tears.

the wave of guilt and sadness washed over you as you took in how beautiful she still looked, or rather this version of her looked exactly like the love of your life. the love of your life who you couldn't hold onto as her hand slipped from yours, forever gone as she disappeared into the smoke of debris.

you still needed time to gain the memories, so you made up an excuse, hoping she would buy it.

"sorry, it must've slipped my mind. you still up for it?"

you stood from your piano stool as you flashed her an apologetic smile. that made her sigh and roll her eyes, once again defeated by your puss-in-boots eyes cause really, there was never once she had been able to not waiver at the sight of them.

"you bet I am, now get your ass outta here and we have to hurry cause we're already late for the performances."

the look of confusion on your face makes the girl pause in her tracks, extremely confused and cautious of you because you didn't seem to be her best friend, in the sense that you didn't feel like her.

"performances. weren't you there when jaemin told us they'd be busking today?"

"right, yes. the boys' first big performance for that influencer's event."

that part of the memory registered just at the right timing. if you took any longer to respond like her best friend, she would have probably took the shovel in the backyard to whack you. the girl wasn't like your lover, way feistier and carefree. it served as a reminder that she wasn't, this girl was not the woman you had loved wholeheartedly and should not be.

"yes. now let's go."

the girl had to drag you out of your house because of how slow you seemed unusually.

"god, I was so close to knocking some sense into you."

"sorry, I've just been really out of it today."

your infamous cheeky smile never fails to have her shake her head in disbelief. in disbelief of how adorable you always looked with it.

"jaemin! we're here!"

aeri screams across the barricade as the said boy turned his head towards her direction, while you trudged behind her, ensuring that she wasn't falling over anything or anyone from excitement.

you learned her name when you two left your room as your dad shouted her name from downstairs. aeri, it was a pretty name and suited her really well. you couldn't help but draw similarities between the woman you knew and her. but they were also two very different people and that was something you shouldn’t forget.

"hey! I thought you two wouldn't make it before our cue. what happened?"

he had known you two for ages and it was unlikely of you to be late to something, especially when it involved close friends.

"this girl here had forgotten about this. unbelievable if you ask me."

"that's quite true. you good?"

aeri and jaemin truly cared for the person you are temporarily posing as. the gazes that you were receiving felt foreign, accountable to your lack of interaction with people. people who actually mattered to you. each and every time you had warped to another dimension, you would disappear to do what you must to prevent apocalypses regardless of what memories flowed through your consciousness.

it doesn’t take long to get everything in place and run the plans to break the sequence of events, given that you were one of the organization’s elite agents with a flawless portfolio. all that didn’t matter to you, life was already meaningless so why care much?

but the moment you had seen that very smile on her face in that photo frame, you wanted to stay in this dimension longer. even if it meant spending more time than you should in a single dimension.

"yeah, don't worry about me. I just had a splitting headache earlier today and I've just been out of it. I'm all good now though."

you regained your composure after some time and adjusted well with your new surroundings. the reaffirming clutch of your hand in aeri's was very comforting surprisingly, but you didn't understand why.

although she had bore similar physical traits with your lover, there was no reason to feel the warmth seeping through the clasp of your hands. and before your consciousness could give you an answer, your blood ran cold as the image of watching her slip through your fingers into nothing, bringing up the very emotions you were trying to suppress for years.

there was not a single day that you could sleep well as the endless nightmare of that event left you in a void of emptiness and desperation. the desperation of wanting to redeem yourself by saving other dimensions where different versions of her would live, regardless of whether different versions of you were there for her.

but absolutely none of that, would bring your lover back into your arms, safe and sound. smiling at you like those mundane days you had, which you would give anything to get them back.

"great. you two find your seats near the fronts, performers' privilege."

he proudly points towards two empty seats which were inevitably yours since the show had already started 20 minutes ago.

"wow, for once, na jaemin has done an amazing job."

"for once, stop roasting me. now shoo, I need to get my hair fixed."

the bickering between the two seemed so natural that you had kept quiet, not knowing if it was your place to interfere the conversation.

this was something you had always feared when you meddle with a dimension, the feeling of belonging. belonging somewhere that wasn't meant for you. would it hurt to feel? no. but it hurts knowing that whatever you did in this dimension, it wasn't you who did it. in the eyes of others, it was someone else. the deeds you do, the memories you share, the love you yearn.

once upon before the apocalypse, life was like this. concerts, outings, bonding, but it was also a time of weakness. your weakness of being powerless to protect the things precious to you, the people once dear to you. but when you've found the power to, you've lost beyond salvation, and there was nothing left to protect.

as you made your way to the seats, aeri couldn't hold back the urge to ask. because the way your eyes didn't carry that special shine her best friend naturally has, concerned her.

she could sense something different seeping from your usual aura. on certain days when you're not in the best condition, there would be times where she can tell that you aren't happy or upset about something and she'd find the right cure to your sour mood.

however, today felt odd. it was seemingly an aura that she hasn't seen from you. you weren't feeling good, but it felt as if you lost the fire in you. the fire you had bore in your soul for your passion. if it had been a bright red fire, it's like it turned into a calming blue one. somewhere in you, you've lost something, never able to ignite a bright red fire ever again.

aeri had convinced herself that perhaps you were tired from piano, burnt out and taking a break from it to regain that passion.

the previous act had just ended, and everyone were to take a five to check if everything was in order. the blaring speakers and annoying mc finally stopped ringing in your ears. instead, a soft voice tickled your right ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"baby, are you really okay? you don't seem to look well."

the girl had leaned in to whisper, and it almost short-circuited your brain with how proximity was out of the window instantly by that small gesture.

"yeah, I'm fine, what makes you say that?"

"you look.. different."

"and you feel different too."

it was as if she had known from the start, that you weren't her best friend she knew. yet, she was trying her best to make sense of her confusion. deep down, you knew that all of this was making no sense. absolutely no sense how you were sitting here with a person in the face of your lover, waiting for your friend's performance in the middle of the summer. all it took was a step out of the house and another step back to report to your superior of your work.

and here you were, reminiscing the memories you had. they were irreplaceable, and will never be. but no one can stop you from making new ones either. just this once, you say. just this once to hold her in my arms one last time.

as your arm grazed against hers, you were looking into her eyes for the first time since the evening started. never have you realized that she had such mesmerizing eyes, pulling you in like gravity.

when you had gazed into her eyes, she spotted a glimpse of admiration, the one that she was ever so familiar with. it put her at peace, reassured that you were alright that night.

your demeanor changed since that night, but she decided to brush it off, convincing herself that she was just overthinking again like she usually does. but maybe, she should have questioned further.

who were you?

you were a fever dream, but also a lifetime nightmare.

minutes turned into hours, and hours turned into days. the sense of time is only perceived in dimensions that were able to escape apocalypse. back at the headquarters, time was fluid, seemingly long at certain moments and short when you don't even notice. which was why you weren't too worried about residing longer in this dimension beside aeri.

"hey, what do you think about love?"

as she laid her head on your lap as you leaned against her bedframe, the question took you aback a little. this very question was presented to you ages ago by your lover, vaguely remembering the scene in your head. but you remembered your response to it, and it doesn't apply to you anymore. 'love is when I find myself staring at your eyes and get the butterflies each and every time.'

"love is like a thorn in a rose waiting to prick the chosen one."

"it's something so beautiful you can't help but to get close to, and once you admire and realize its worth, it pricks you. leaving you to bleed, it creates a kind of pain that numbs you, yet you reach for it again like none of that happened."

"it makes you yearn for it, and when you've had too many wounds, that's when you notice that you're hopeless."

you never forgot how it felt to love her, it was all too familiar when it felt so natural to fall for aeri, which you almost couldn't resist. the way her eyes curve into crescents as she smiles, the way her scent fill your senses when she leans on your shoulder, the way you feel the butterflies when you stare into her eyes.

it scared you.

this wasn't where you were to belong. yet, the feeling of loving her permeated through your entire being, unable to shake off as you willingly dive deeper into your emotions.

"girl, did someone hurt you?"

aeri laughed away, thinking that you were half-heartedly joking and sarcastically answering the question. her best friend wasn't the type to dwell in the topic of love and dating. she had better priorities in life, which was the piano that sat in her room across from aeri's.

the lack of your laughter made her frown instantly, cursing at herself for perhaps making a mistake.

"what's wrong? did someone really-"

"no no, nothing's wrong. I just thought of that when you asked me. it just felt like love is a rose, it can be beautiful and romantic to some, but also a painful past for others."

"well, you're not wrong. remember that guy from middle school? he was literally the biggest idiot in class and he had the balls to confess to you with a bunch of roses in front of the whole school."

"yeah, that was definitely not it."

you laughed along, but you couldn't. the story was too familiar, this was what happened to you ages ago. not this person you were posing as, but you. the details matched your experience, but only that the person receiving the confession being your lover.

it was too hard to just brush it off as a coincidence. many could be, but this was too specific. timelines matched but with only the people as a difference. the thought of this dimension being a parallel universe of yours brought shivers down your spine. what if it was? what if this dimension's apocalypse was inevitable, just like yours?

many what ifs were not going to stop the apocalypse. you were the only hope to save the world, but screw the world. all that crossed your mind as you caressed her hair was only one thing that mattered to you.

'I will keep you safe, even if it meant that I'd never be able to see you again.'

jaemin and jeno had agreed to go together to a frat party you were technically forced to go by some jock you bumped into in the hallway while you were on your way to meet aeri. the dude kept pestering that you blatantly spat in his face that you were going. he didn't mention that you couldn't have people tag along, so you had asked the boys if it was possible to stick around in case things get out of hand.

the girl though, she had the balls to say that she was worried about you. she was going to stick with you the entire time you were there in case some idiots decided to hit on you, she'd be able to swat them away. the audacity, you thought.

if anything, guys were clearly going to swarm over her instead, and you'd have to act as her bodyguard. given that you're a good three to four inches taller than her, that itself would be possible to scare a majority. nothing could get her off your arm as you walked into the house, reeking of alcohol and sweat already at nine. before you could even show your face to that jock and perhaps head to the quietest area which was probably the pool, you felt eyes on her. maybe this was a bad decision after all.

you didn't want to ruin the mood for the many people who were enjoying this, so all you could do was subside that indecipherable internal anger of yours and find that idiot so you could leave this instant. the dirty looks all over aeri made your insides churn and boil, no matter how much you tried to understand why, you never could.

you didn't love the girl, she was a different person from your lover, just bearing identical physical traits. it was something that you had been telling yourself ever since you arrived here two months ago. that was how long you’ve spent being here, than the usual one-week stay.

trying so hard to deny that you harboured feelings for aeri, your efforts were all in vain when all it takes is just a flash of her smile. even during this moment of her laughing along with jaemin and jeno, it reminds you too much of her. the smile you would see when she feeds the stray cat outside your office, the laughter you would hear when you tickle her during pillow fights.

why was it so hard to walk away and do what you were sent to do here initially? why did fail to resist the sweet temptation of being in love again? when you couldn’t even hold onto that hand of your lover? the hand in yours felt so warm, contradicting the chilly feeling that set into place ever since that day.

she started melting the glacier of ice, while you took a step back to freeze it again. because it’s wrong, so wrong.

"I see hyunjin there."

jeno's voice caught your attention along with the name. following his point of direction, you finally spot that jock chatting away in the kitchen corner with presumably his friends. definitely, you weren't going to let the girl tag along cause enough was enough, another guy and you were going to tear this place down.

"aeri, can you stay with jae for a bit? I'll go say hi then I'll be right back. jeno's gonna be here so don't worry."

although she was very reluctant to let you go alone, you showed her those shining eyes, praying it works again this time. thankfully, she gives you a nod and heads off with jaemin first.

as you made your way towards hyunjin, you were extremely disgusted at how his friends were eyeing you up and down, like you were nothing but just an item. him on the other hand, was a lot better surprisingly.

it reminded you a lot of your high school days. the times when your lover had numerous suitors waiting in line to be her one and only. but she had eyes for you. you were still oblivious of the heart eyes you got from her then. it took you years to realize before you dated. it was the exact definition of ‘she fell first, but you fell harder’. until now, it still pretty much applied.

"hey! you made it!"

"yeah, you were following me around for three days, asking me to come."

he laughed awkwardly, even a little shy. what was this boy's deal?

it was as if the tables have turned, you now dealing with these boys who were fawning over her. perhaps in this dimension, you were quite a popular one.

"I just wanted to get to know you more, so I thought of getting you to come and spend some time together."

as much as he seemed nice, you weren't interested, and unwilling to lead him on to thinking you were.

"sorry, I have a boyfriend. but we could still be friends."

a little lie wouldn’t hurt him, and jeno was conveniently standing on guard with his supposedly scary aura which you found amusing.

you extended your hand politely in hopes he wouldn't have a freak out and frantic screaming that his love interest had an alleged boyfriend.

"I see... well then, great to be your acquaintance. I hope you have enjoy your time here."

you started to notice that his friends weren't eyeing you eerily, but rather that it seemed that they were wary of your intentions with hyunjin. it was as if you were about to play with this boy's heart, and that's when you remembered that rumor of a varsity player being dumped by that good-for-nothing cheerleader.

in fact, you witnessed that cheerleader sucking off some other guy’s face in the stairways. you’ve never made such a fast u-turn in your life, which you probably should have when you were making that decision to join the organization. but have you not joined, you wouldn’t have had the chance to meet aeri. and maybe you would have been long dead.

who knows? you might have met your lover in the afterlife when the creatures found you, had it not for the organization.

if fate decided to play a game, you had no choice but to shoot your shot at it.

"thanks for the invite."

"jaemin, please tell me I'm not crazy. I swear that's not her."

"if that's not her, then who is she? come on, aeri. be real."

"I am being real. she keeps avoiding the hugs I give her, and when I get a little closer, she literally freezes up."

the girl ran her hands through her hair in frustration, not knowing what is the truth and what isn't anymore.

for the past two months, she sensed something different about you. were you drastically different? no. something was, and she just knew. but what? these were the questions that had occupied her head for the past week.

she noticed you avoiding her eyes, taking brief glances only, as if you were afraid. afraid of getting your feelings hurt. but why should you? you've been best friends with aeri for as long as you could remember. if anything, you two were inseparable according to reliable sources like jaemin and jeno.

the only thing was, the memories you gained from the owner of this body. it was torturing you more than you thought it should. the smile on her face through these eyes, the sweet laughter through these ears, the gentle touches through these fingertips. endless nights of witnessing aeri fall asleep before you did. just like those times you did when she was your lover.

"that's it? sis, I thought she'd turn into a werewolf or had poisonous potions in a secret room or something."

"and you're the one who's telling me to be real."

"and you're an idiot. sounds like she just likes you to me."

a thousand questions popped in her head. then those questions were given their respective answers as she put together the puzzle one by one. maybe, you liked her. maybe, you loved her.

but why? nothing had changed between you and her so why now? she admits that she had felt attracted to you at times, but she couldn't be sure that she had feelings for you. however she was uncertain, you hadn't been the most expressive these days and she wasn't a mind reader.

when she saw you emerging from the crowd with jeno, she knew that she needed answers before the night ended.

unfortunately no, aeri didn't get any answers because she didn't have a chance to ask. her frustration fueled the endless beer refills which ended her drunk on your back as you prepared her for bed.

and you were lucky that she hadn't gotten the chance to do so. for the past two months, every day you woke up to was a curse in disguise of a blessing. the realization that hit you every time that like a reminder at the back of your head, that aeri wasn't your lover. and every single thing you've done with her won't remain as time spent with you, but her best friend who's the best pianist to her.

all she remembers when she woke up the next day was nothing, with a hangover that was giving her the worse headache. and you remember everything too vividly.

that night, as you tucked her hair behind her ear, all you could do was hold back sobs as a tear managed to escape, trickling down your cheek.

you couldn't sit by and enjoy this newfound life any longer. the day this world ends was getting closer and you had a mission to prevent the apocalypse. you weren't waivered by the possibility of a punishment that would cost your life. you were terrified of witnessing another time of losing someone you loved, someone you love.

you love aeri, yes. but was it the remnants of the love you had for your lover? although that may have been the case, you couldn't deny that her and aeri shared countless similarities. it was wrong to keep drawing resemblances between the two. nevertheless, one thing was for sure.

this version of you in this dimension, had loved aeri for a long time.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

"I love you so much."

"please forgive me."

"nothing in this world belongs to me. but this love, my love is all mine, forever for you."

[arieswritez]

What do you think about Nolan? 😳

i think!!!!!

afab! reader; yandere nolan would baby trap you :)

cw; stealthing, baby trapping, breeding kink, yandere!nolan

if you menstruate, he'd innocently ask when your next period is. just to be prepared ofc! <3 and he is! always bringing you pads and treats you might be craving. going as far as to fly to other countries to get goodies in the most authentic way possible! lays in bed with you and cuddles his warm body against yours when you're having cramps or when you're just feeling sluggish and beat!

but . . unbeknownst to you: now he knows when you ovulate <3

and despite you climbing him like a tree, you always make sure to have protection. it's too risky without it. but that's nothing nolan can't work with <3 you act as if you're in heat: presenting yourself to him with your back arched and your hands on your pretty little cunt, spreading yourself open . . as if you needed to entice him anymore. when he places his hands on your feverish skin and adjusts you, the condom has already been slipped off of his cock and you're way too horny to notice teehee <3

gn!reader or amab!reader:

cw; power imbalance, inappropriate relationships, manipulation, blackmail, non-con, cheating (srry debbie ily), faux-incest, daddy kink

yandere!nolan would pretend to be your mentor :) you're a young, aspiring hero and you can't believe omni-man believes in you enough to take you under his wing!! the respect you have for him is immense and you like that he doesn't hold back. often, you're left with so many bruises on your body from training you can't tell which are accidental - from scuffs or bad landings - or which are from the amount of times he's pummeled you.

you're not cowed by his violence. you know he means well. so you start to use your injuries a point of reference for how far you've come. someday, you tell yourself, you'll remember this day and know these were all worth it. so you make it a habit to stare at the bruises in the mirror: whenever you catch sight of them in the showers / locker room of the guardians of the globe training facility.

luckily for nolan, you're not as observant as you should be. but he can fix that. he'll make sure you're as aware of your surroundings as he is when he's done with you.

because any other hero, any good hero, would be able to tell when they're not alone. a good hero would be able to spot nolan peeking around the corner as you stare at your battered body, his cock in hand :)

nolan's a patient man.

he can wait until he's earned your trust enough to confide in him. and predictably, you do. the two of you have a conversation in which you spill the reason why you want to become a hero in the first place. your parents weren't good people. a tale as old as time. in and out of jail for as long as you remember and you'd never had a good role model in your life until nolan.

and with those beautiful, innocent eyes, you look at him and confess he's like a dad to you.

nolan doesn't think he'll ever tire coming to the memory.

and he'll never let you live it down. no, no, no. how could he?

he hyperfixates on the thought and begins to overstep. acting less like a mentor and more like a controlling father. innocent things at first. no, you can't go out with your friends. we have training, remember?

and no, you don't remember. you specifically told him you wouldn't be free. but he won't hear it. says it's an emergency. that being a good hero sometimes means sacrificing personal time.

then, when you begin to show romantic interest in someone, love is a distraction. you're young. don't waste your time.

and when you've had enough of his intrusive behavior, behavior you have no choice but to call him out on. . nervously, but you do it nonetheless, he sends you a simple message that makes you crawl back to him.

do you want this or not?

you do.

more than anything.

so you agree to go to his house and talk. you sit with him and accept the beer he gives you. and at first, he's apologetic. but the more he drinks, the more the facade slips. he scoots closer towards you on the couch, lays his hand on your thigh, and tells you that he just wants to keep you safe. wants to make sure you're the best of the best but you have to trust him. and all you do is freeze and stare, only coming to your senses when he begins to lean in. with a racing heart, you try to turn away from the smell of beer on his breath, pushing at his chest, saying it's late. you should go. you should really go. but all nolan does is grab you by the wrists and demand you look at him.

he's like a dad to you, remember? it's what you said. you're supposed to listen to him. you're supposed to obey and do what he says. nolan knows what's best for you, why can't you see that? and if you want him to keep guiding you, protecting you, if you don't want him to abandon you like your good for nothing parents did, you'll do this for him.

so you get on your knees and watch as he unbuckles his belt in a hurry. you allow him to grab you by the nape of the neck and force your face down to swallow his cock. your nose nuzzles against his pubic bone: forced against neatly trimmed, greying pubes as you gag whenever his hips fervently move.

but don't worry, as your mentor, he'll make sure you learn how to swallow a cock properly <3

[thefanficmonster]

Piss off your parents pt.2

PART 1

PART 3

Colby Brock x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Turns out, LA is packing way more surprises than you were prepared for.

He's still nursing the same drink he started the night with. Not by choice - he just knows that he might make some serious mistake if he indulges in anything more or stronger. The beer is treating him well.

Then again, if he sees Nate and Y/N making out one more fucking time he might steer to the whiskey.

He feels like a terrible friend, unsure of who he's being more unfair toward of the two. He should be happy for them. Like Sam. He can't take a page from his book, though. He can't be openly supportive and encouraging of the blooming romance between his friends. The most he can do is plaster on a strained fake smile and try to enjoy his night, keeping himself away from them. If he can't be a proper friend, the least he can do is not let his displeasure - and borderline selfishness - swim up to the surface.

Although his features are definitely giving a clear glimpse into the warzone that is his mind. Hard glare, set jaw, gritted teeth, furrowed brows. If Sam wasn't already several rounds deep he'd probably pick up on it instantly.

Thing is, he already has picked up on it. The avoidance, the cold shoulder, short-spokenness. He's been picking up on the clues for months but dared not bring it up. In his head, it makes no sense. To him, it always seemed like Colby and Y/N were the rom-com waiting to happen. Stolen glances, gentle touches, subtle affection, their own love language. All trademark Colby-Y/N stuff. Where Nate came into the equation is unclear to him.

Truthfully, nothing is clear to him right now. Which is why Colby is currently helping him off the table he can't remember climbing onto.

"Come on, dude. You're gonna break something important." He says, steadying his best friend when he hops down too enthusiastically for someone in his state.

Sam slurs a response but is grinning from ear to ear so he can only assume he's enjoying himself enough to not mind Colby gentle-parenting him. But also enjoying himself too much to be trusted and left to his own devices.

Scoping out the hotel club with a quick glance, Colby's gaze thankfully finds Corey. Who it doesn't find is the main culprits responsible for his deteriorating mental state. Where's a shot of whiskey when you need it?

"Mind watching over him for a bit? Imma go get a drink." He yells over the music directly into Corey's ear, nodding to the inebriated blonde who's swaying to the beat of the music without a care in the word. Colby aspires to be him in an hour, the risks of it be damned.

Corey accepts the duty, earning himself a grateful pat on the back from Colby who disappears into the crowd the same instant. He's heading toward the bar, eyeing the bottles lining the wall behind it greedily. He's sees the amber liquids as a sea he's about to drown his worries in.

That is if he can shake them, though.

And, try as he might, he can't.

Surveying the venue a couple more times, he feels a sickening pit settle into his gut at the absence of his two best friends. He can't remember when he lost sight of them nor how, especially since his eyes were glued to her the whole night.

Others would be a lot less concerned with this predicament. I mean, when two people like each other veryyy much, have had several drinks throughout the night and have disappeared from the party, it's pretty clear where they might be and what they might be doing. But Colby doesn't even wanna let his train of thought travel that way. Neither his heart nor his liver can handle that.

But that's when he spots Nate with Sam and Corey. Yet still no Y/N in sight.

Colby decides this calls for a search party.

He checks each and every corner of the club with upmost diligence. She's wearing a little black dress that is for sure to help her blend into the blur of the party with the minimal lighting and packed crowd. It's not a problem for him though, he could spot her from a plane. Which makes his lack of findings all the more concerning.

He eventually takes his search outside the club and into the hotel lobby. Then out on the sidewalk, then in the parking lot. He has soon scoped out the entire perimeter around the hotel without finding a trace of her. He's all out of places to search and chock-full of sickening worry. It's as if she's disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Speaking of smoke...

As he's making his way back to the hotel entrance, he catches something out of the corner of his eye. A small plume of smoke emanating from the cracked open window of one of the club bathrooms. That's when the idea pops up in his head.

He never checked the ladies' room. For obvious reasons, of course.

But his rationality and reasonability were checked clear from his system ten minutes ago when his body entered full panic mode. So...

Still he tries to reason with himself: Play the drunk card. Just accidentally stumbled into the wrong bathroom, that's all. 'I'm not a creep I swear, I just mixed up the doors'. That could work, yeah....

And so, with a quicker pace to his step, he steps out of the humid LA air and into the chillier and more pleasant hotel lobby. He stops for a second under the cold AC breeze to take a breath. Collect himself.

What if it's not her? What then?

That depressing train of thought is interrupted by a slight ping coming from his back pocket. He nearly drops his phone he takes it out so damn fast. He'd sent Y/N a string of messages and even tried calling her a few times, all attempts with no success. Therefore, for a split second, he's hopeful that maybe she's finally replied.

Much to his dismay, it ends up being wishful thinking.

Much more to his dismay....

"Hello Cole. How is Y/N?"

...it's her mom.

It's been eight months since the incident, six since they moved to LA. In that time, Y/N's mom has come around approximately half an inch closer to tolerating him. Mostly because he's her only intel on her daughter since she's so adamant on being stubborn and not talking to her. And Colby is more than happy to be of service, he just wishes....

What exactly?

Wishes they could mend their bridges? Wishes he didn't have to lie on both his and Y/N's behalf? Wishes he didn't feel s fucking guilty?

Wishes it wasn't all a ruse?

Mrs. Y/L/N checks in once every couple of days, often with texts at odd hours like this. She has a lot of night shifts to handle at the hospital so, when she gets downtime is when she stops to reach out with a message to Colby - who she believes is her daughter's boyfriend, mind you - to ask about Y/N.

And he's always been instant with the replies. 2AM, 4AM, 7AM, you name it. Never once has he taken more than a couple minutes to reply. He can't remember sleeping more than two to three hours a night if any since they moved here. He'd blame it on the weather change. Then again, he knows better.

His correspondent noticed this too...

"Why are you never asleep? Is something wrong?" She'd asked him at one point, showing genuine concern which truly warmed his heart. And then broke it right afterwards when he remembered he can't tell her what's wrong. He wishes he could tell her for whatever reason. He has a feeling she'd understand, maybe even like him better because of it. But how could he tell her? The charade needs to be upkept, the show must go on, and he'll just...well, suffer, really.

With a quick confirmation of Y/N's well-being, he continues his venture back into the club, making a quick beeline for the dark hall leading to the bathrooms. And yes, he feels like a creep but no, he can't turn back now.

So, he pushes the door to the women's restroom open.

Thank the heavens, he thinks to himself. For two reasons.

Firstly, because it's a single stall bathroom.

Secondly, because on the sink counter outside the stall sits Y/N and suddenly he's getting deja vu.

Mascara is staining her cheeks, a cigarette is hanging between her lips, her hair is a mess. But she still gives him a smile when she sees him come in. "Hey." She greets him, voice barely above a whisper, "You're not supposed to be here."

Colby quickly locks the door behind him, approaching her with a newfound shake in his knees. Given her state, he's quick to assume the worst. "Jesus Y/N, what's wrong? Did something happen? Talk to me."

She shakes her head, a few more strands of her disheveled hair going awry, "Nothing happened, nothing's wrong. I'm just...having fun." She sounds bitter. Not sad, not angry. Just bitter, regretful almost.

For some reason he chucks up to human nature, he feels anger start boiling in that lingering pit in his gut, "Where have you been?"

She motions to the counter below her nonchalantly, slurring a little "Here" in response.

"Where'd you get that?" He asks, nodding at the cigarette between her fingers.

She laughs, whether drunkenly or genuinely he's unsure. "Some girl gave it to me when she heard me crying in the bathroom."

Alarms start goin off once again. She's unaware she's playing him and his sanity like a yo-yo with each spoken word, "Why the fuck were you crying? What happened?!"

Y/N finds the audacity to roll her eyes at him, "Nothing! For fuck's sake, Colby, nothing happened!"

"How can you say that and expect me to believe it? Look at yourself! You're a mess!" He tries subduing his anger but it's impossible. He doesn't know where it's stemming from. Maybe it's all that pent up adrenaline from twenty minutes ago coming loose. Maybe his worry is mixing with the relief and melting into frustration. Maybe he's taking out his bitterness - piled on for months, mind you - on her. Even though she doesn't deserve it. And he knows that.

She deserves the world.

He just doesn't deserve her. And he's yet to come to terms with that.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." She sasses him, taking the last puff of her cigarette before tossing it out the window.

"You're mascara is running down your face, your hair is all over the place, your lipstick is smeared as fuck. There's a party going on out there but you prefer sitting on cold marble and smoking in a bathroom. You can't tell me there's nothing odd about that." He's losing it, he can feel his sanity slipping from his grip and he can't get a better grasp on it. All he can do is watch as it leaves him.

Y/N, in her usual fashion, is quick to clap back, "You're the odd one! You're fully sober at your own party, angry for whatever reason. You're standing here lecturing me instead of being out there having fun. Oh, and need I remind you, you're in the ladies' room."

He laughs humorlessly. Exhaustedly. "I haven't been on a wild goose chase the whole night for you to...."

"He doesn't want me."

Her words cut him off and cut him deep. The confusion is brief but the pieces fall into place almost immediately.

Nate

"There's no fucking way. You've been all over each other..." He stops himself when he realizes how upset he sounds recollecting all the instances he caught the two in their own world. The pit rattles, a sickening feeling climbing up his throat.

She scoffs, "Yeah, well that's all there is to it. It's all physical. And always prompted by alcohol." A long sigh escapes her lips, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm just disappointed I didn't notice it sooner."

Colby Brock, for once in his life, has been rendered speechless. But he's aware staying quiet isn't an option. So he makes a weak attempt at a consolation, "Y/N, I-"

"Did you know?" She thankfully cuts him off before he can continue word vomiting.

He quickly shakes his head, "No. I swear I didn't. I would've told you."

"Yeah, I know. I know you would've. I just don't know why he told you he liked me when you asked him..." She sighs, picking at the hem of her dress, thankfully oblivious to the sudden paleness of Colby's face.

The sickness gets worse as he remembers his huge mistake. A lie he told months ago.

Y/N had asked him to fight this one battle for her and he still didn't do it, for utterly selfish reasons. She'd asked him for something so simple - ask Nate about his feelings for her, if there were any. And what did he do? He kept his tongue behind his teeth and quietly hoped she'd forget about it. Such a foolish thing to expect from someone completely head over heels in love.

So, when she inevitably checked in to find out the response, he had to lie. Lie and give her false hope he didn't even know was false at the time. There was a devil on his shoulder telling him to tell her the complete opposite but he could never be that evil.

He'd rather drink and sleep his way into coping through it all than watch his best friend be brokenhearted.

In the end it seems he somehow swerved the situation into hitting both those nails on the head. And he completely and utterly hates himself for having done that to Y/N.

The least he can do is come clean.

"I never asked him."

Silence. Fucking crickets. They can hear each other's heartbeats. And he can't bring himself to look up at her, let alone meet her eyes.

It feels like forever before words are spoken between them. She's the one to break the silence with one simple word: "Why?"

He can't tell her why. He doesn't know why.

Actually, you know what, fuck that. He knows exactly why and that's the reason he can't tell her.

"I don't know." He feels like such a coward. But the consequences of the truth terrify him.

"Why did you lie to me?" She doesn't sound angry. He wishes she did. Because the hurt he can hear in her voice is far worse than any furious wrath she could unleash upon him.

"I don't know."

"Fuck that, Colby. You're my best friend, for fuck's sake. You're the last person I'd expect to lie to me and you-"

"You don't wanna know why, Y/N." His restraint is growing weaker. He regrets the words as soon as he says them. He's aware she most definitely not leave it alone now. They're both stubborn, so fucking stubborn. Mules, if you will. Legends say they still reference something they bickered about a decade ago today.

"Yes I fucking do, Colby."

"It could ruin a lot of things."

"It won't."

"I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't."

"You promise?" He feels horrible asking for a promise from her after having revealed the biggest lie he's ever told her.

Well, second biggest anyway.

But she doesn't second his opinion because her response comes out faster than a bullet, "I promise."

In this moment of honesty, raw and bare honesty, how could he lie? How can he look her in the eyes and not tell her the truth? How can he even look at her? He owes her that much but doesn't know if he has it in himself to do it.

Forcing himself to look up, Colby swears he can feel a sharp pain in his chest. Her eyes are dry of tears by now but the shine remains, accentuated further by the fluorescent lighting. He swears he can feel himself fall for her all over again, even deeper.

"Because I'm in love with you, Y/N."

The crickets are back. The silence is eating away at him. He can feel her slipping through his fingers. Their decade long friendship flashes before his eyes. It feels like he's saying goodbye. To the memories, to the friendship. To the love of his life that never was.

The weight of the realness knocks his head back down, his gaze fixated on the black tiles beneath his feet. Shame, pain, dread and fear are all battling for first place, causing a whirlwind in his brain that nearly knocks him off his balance.

It's astonishing how much it hurts losing something you new you didn't deserve all along.

Tagging: @benbarnesprettygurl @beanredacted

[strniohoeee]

Labyrinth

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female reader

Synopsis: A numb and addicted y/n can’t seem to understand why her life suddenly feels different. She’s done nothing but move around in her adult years, so why is it now that she feels she can’t pack up and leave anytime soon?

Warnings⚠️: I haven’t written in over a month, so I’m super rusty this might be shitty! Cigarette smoking and mentions, mentions of addiction, mentions of alcohol. I don’t condone smoking or drinking (underage).🖤

Song for imagine: Cigarettes and Coffee- Otis Redding

Its early in the morning

About a quarter ‘til three

I’m sittin here talking with my baby

Over cigarettes and coffee

I was never one to deal with stress easily which led me to deal with it in the worst ways possible. Drinking, smoking, quitting jobs on the spot and even packing up and leaving places…..I know stupid and risky, but I never had that anchor in my life to tell me everything was going to be okay.

If I felt stressed and useless my things were packed and I was on the road to a new state. I think I was on state number 7 in about a year and a half. Who the fuck in their right mind handles stress this way? That was the million dollar question, and I had the answer…. I wasn’t in my right mind…not in the past, not in the present and undoubtedly not in the future.

After my last breakdown I landed in California precisely in Los Angeles, the city of angels. Where all your dreams and aspirations could come true. It just felt like lost paradise to me, but it’s the longest state I’ve ever stood in. For some reason I couldn’t find the power in me to leave when I got stressed. It was as if I had some unforeseen future here….a future of happiness and hope?

But the stress still gnawed at me. Will I ever have a career, will I ever be truly happy, will my parents be proud of me?How am I going to pay for next month's rent?How am I going to pay for next week's groceries?

It was a constant battle and I never severely suffered because I always found a way, but once all that was taken care of the immediate panic started again about how will I be able to do it all in the following weeks.

I started smoking constantly and it was weird because I wasn’t a smoker but I knew I should drink a little less. I only lit a cigarette when the stress was so bad I refused to drink anymore. Not like smoking was any better ruining my lungs rather than my liver….

But the problem was it went from one to two a day to five and on really bad days even up to eight. It was a bad crutch I simply couldn’t pull away from. They were my training wheels and I was so scared that once I let go I’d crash and burn.

I had an addiction and I had no one around me to slap me out of it. Of course I still spoke to my parents, but I just lied about it. I mean there’s truly no one to blame but myself, however all that regret left my mind once a lighter was in my hand and I took a long drag while the cool night breeze brushed against my skin.

I was lucky enough to have found a job almost instantly. It was a cute little coffee shop that had a small selection of books. It was a peaceful and slow paced job. We only really needed two to three people working. So I’d open at 8am and waited for the next girl to clock in at about 11am.

It was a fun job that paid the bills and my horrendous cigarette addiction. I had found a decent studio apartment nearby. But I was always convinced that this would be snatched from under my feet and I should never get comfortable. As you can expect this led to my extreme stress and anxiety.

I didn’t necessarily have friends here, I mean yes I was cool with my coworkers and boss; but we weren’t friends. It was more of a hi, bye situation. It didn’t bother me much. I was always a loner. I never really found people who got me, so I stayed with the only person who did…me.

On my days off I spent a lot of time walking around flea markets, heading into other cafes and even writing. I’d always hoped that one day I’d be a writer. My mind was always running and I figured someone out there might actually relate to and enjoy the words I’d write on a piece of paper.

Today I was actually working a small shift from 8am to 1pm. I was staring blankly at my reflection in the bathroom. Scruffing my hands and gargling mouthwash. It was 11am and I was coming back from my break.

Spitting the mouthwash into the sink I closed the cap and stuffed the travel size bottle into my purse. Inhaling deeply I looked at myself once again.

“You have got to stop smoking” I replied in a mumble

Slipping my hand blindly into my purse I pulled out my perfume; spritzing myself before shutting the light and heading into the break room to place my purse back.

Slipping my apron on my coworker walked in, clocking in the back as she offered me a smile

“Good morning Y/N” she said as she walked towards me to place her things down

“Good morning K” I stated as I offered a smile back and began to make my way to clock back in

I wasn’t sure why her name was K, it was all over her employee paperwork. She was here before me, so I felt I had no right to ask her for her real name. But it was interesting for someone to just drop the rest of their name and solely go by a singular letter.

After punching back in I walked to the front, not a surprise it was dead. The only people lingering around were the 8am-9am crew. Sighing deeply I decided to clean up a bit.

It was about 12pm now and I was watching the clock anxiously waiting to clock out and run free. Usually I worked 8-4 and sometimes even 8-6. I had a whole day ahead of me and two days off might I add. I felt pretty invincible

Drinking from my water cup the door chimed signaling a customer. Placing the cup down I began to turn around.

“Hi welcome to Mugs” I stated as I turned around

Immediately I was intrigued. I have never seen someone as interesting before. I mean it is LA, so I have seen some interesting stuff; but no he looked different…. And for some reason I couldn’t really look away

Placing his vision glasses on top of his head he squinted his eyes to read the menu. My eyebrow raising.

“You know glasses are meant for you to see things” I said logging into the register as I looked up at him

“I’m sorry?” He said looking at me

“You um…. You put your glasses on your head and then squinted to read” I said pointing above me at the board

“Oh… well these are just blue light glasses. I genuinely can’t really see” he said in an awkward way

“Ohhh well uhh want me to read the menu to you?” I asked laughing a bit

“Oh no it’s fine, I’m not really a coffee drinker” he stated looking at our pastry display

“You do realize you’re in a Coffee shop?” I said jokingly

His both opened a bit and then he squinted his eyes

“I am now seeing how ridiculous I look” he said chuckling and shaking his head

“No judgment here” I said sticking my hands up in defense

“I won’t waste your time any more! Can I have a chocolate chip cookie and that bottle of Pepsi” he said pointing behind me at the small fridge

“One Pepsi and one cookie, coming right up” I said checking him out on the screen

Grabbing the cookie and bottle of soda I placed it on the counter and slid it towards him.

“You can tap or insert your card whenever you’re ready” I stated clicking some buttons on my screen

“I’m uhh actually paying cash” he said fishing in his wallet

“Woahhh cash in this century?” I said giggling and fixing the system

“Yeahh I carry a little bit of cash and little bit of card” he said shrugging his shoulders

“A little bit of card….hmm…that’s funny” I said giggling a bit at him

“Well you know what I mean” he says playfully rolling his eyes

“I’m just messing with you” I said shaking my head

Smiling he handed the cash over and grabbed his items

“Keep the change” he said waving with his hand and nodding his head

Walking out the door I couldn’t seem to understand why I had a stupid smile on my face. Putting the cash in the till and placing the change in our tip jar.

Turning around I was met with my two coworkers staring at me with a smirk on their face. I’d never been the spotlight of attention and I’ve never gotten anything other than a good morning from either of them. So my face dropped and I got self conscious

“What?” I said a bit scared as I straightened my posture

“He was totally into you” K stated as she placed the rack of cookies down

“Was not! We were just making friendly conversations” I said opening the pastry shelf and putting some cookies in

“No no I agree with K we’ve had a lot of guys come in here, but this is the first time I’ve seen a guy like utter more than two words to you and he was totally geeking out” Delilah stated

“Totally! That kid was blushing like crazyyy” K stated as she grabbed the now empty tray and began to walk back towards the kitchen

“Guys come on! It was just friendly banter” I said shutting the pastry door

“Delilah knows her shit too, that’s how Danny and I got together” K stated from the kitchen

“Shut up! No way” I said rolling my eyes

“Sure did! As soon as we had an interaction K told me he’d be back for my number, and that was three years ago” K replied

“You just got lucky this was nothing but mere coincidence” I replied back to them

“You’ll see girl” Delilah stated as she began to make herself a coffee

Playfully rolling my eyes I checked the clock, I had about 10 minutes till my shift was over. I decided to make myself a drink.

As I made my iced latte I began to wonder. I didn’t really have many interactions with guys, but I think I’d know if someone was flirting with me.

It just felt like a friendly banter with an awkwardly shy….nerdy guy. Laughing to myself I finished making my drink.

“Alright girls I’m going to clock out now” I stated as I walked to the back

Punching out and grabbing my things I slid my apron off and grabbed my drink. Heading towards the front of the cafe

I waved bye to the girls as I took a sip.

“Have a good day girls” I said as I walked out

I had the whole day ahead of me and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do. My job was near a pier where I could always sit down and watch people.

Before heading to the pier I decided to stop for some food. Heading into a small restaurant I sat down. Taking my book out of my purse I began to write. I hadn’t written in two weeks and it felt wrong.

Ghosting my hand over the paper, my mind just kept going blank. I couldn’t form a proper sentence and my mind began to race again. Thinking back on that boy I began to think about my love life.

Honestly I didn’t really have one, I was more of a hopeless romantic. Often watching rom coms and rolling my eyes at how unrealistic that love was. I’m sure it was tangible, but I was just a sour puss.

I longed for a relationship like that to always know you’ll have someone there for you loving you unconditionally. To be with someone through sickness and in health. I was only 22, but it seemed to me that everyone around me already had that amazing soulmate. I was very clearly late to the game and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever find someone to love. I wasn’t even sure I was lovable myself.

Then again I never put myself out there, but times have changed. It's not that easy. Guys have become so shitty and all they care about it sex. But it’s like what about getting to know the person deep down.

Not once has a guy ever asked me my dreams and aspirations, where do I see myself in five years? What are my biggest goals in life? What’s my biggest fear….. I lost all hope for love by the time I was 18.

Reading romantic stories and watching these shows and movies definitely added salt to the wound.

I hadn’t realized how much I was writing till my hand began to cramp. Looking up I realized it was no longer daytime.

“Shit” I muttered under my breath

Slamming my book shut I paid my bill and began to gather my things. Walking out of the restaurant I stepped out onto the golden street. It was about 5:45 and I really couldn’t understand how that much time had passed.

I think that’s why I enjoy writing the most, I’m so far gone in my own world it’s like I’m frozen and the world around me continues to move.

Walking towards the pier it was surprisingly empty at this time. Breathing in the salty air I sat down on a bench. Watching the ocean I let the breeze blow through my hair.

Digging in my purse I pulled out my pack of American Spirits. Sighing deeply I pulled a cigarette out. As soon as I grabbed my lighter all the regret washed away from me.

Placing the white object in between my lips I flicked the lighter a few times before a glowing flame appeared before me. Guarding the flame from the wind I brought it closer.

Inhaling as I lit the cigarette all my worries washed away. This was only my second cigarette of the day and I somehow felt accomplished.

Kicking the gravel underneath me I took a long drag, exhaling I got up. Walking over to the edge of the pier I decided to sit down allowing my legs to hang off the edge.

I wasn’t 100% sure I could do this, but it’s worth a shot I thought to myself. Leaning my chin in the railing I took another drag as I stared into the sunset.

Life was so beautiful and I wasn’t sure why I was so sad and numb all the time. I took a lot for granted and I hated it.

I really needed to stop smoking.

“You know those things will kill you” I heard from behind me

My brows began to furrow as I took a drag

“I’m sorry?” I said annoyed as I looked behind me, blowing the smoke out through my nose as my face dropped

“You shouldn’t smoke” he said again with a cheeky smile on his face

Meeting eyes with the same guy from the cafe made my heart skip a beat and my throat go dry.

“Squinting your eyes is also bad for you” I said putting the cigarette out

“Won’t kill me though” he said shrugging his shoulders

“You never know” I said shrugging my shoulders and standing up

His eyes followed me as I got up and it was only then did I feel super self conscious about this whole situation. My embarrassment turned a bit into anger.

“Anyways you drink Pepsi, so that for sure will kill you” I said as I dusted my pants off

“Guess we’ll both be dead then” he replied

“Wow you’re super blunt” I said scoffing

“Sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to come off rude. I was just playfully teasing” he said looking nervous

Looking at him for a split second and I sniffed and then rolled my eyes

“It’s fine. It’s a bad habit anyways” I replied shrugging my shoulders

“We all have bad habits we’re not proud of” he said in a whisper

“Are you uhh following me?” I asked him cocking an eyebrow

“What? No oh my god no! I was just walking and I thought you looked super familiar” he replied putting his hands out in defense

“I’m just teasing you” I said giggling

“I’m Matt” he replied placing his hand out for me to shake

“I’m Y/N” I stated as I shook his hand

“It’s nice to formally meet you” he said awkwardly

“Yeah” I replied awkwardly

“I’ll uh… ill let you go on about your business. Maybe I’ll see you around” He said

“Well you know where to find me” I said smiling at him

Opening my bag I was digging around for my phone before successfully pulling it out.

“Right, we’ll have a good evening” he said and waved shyly

“I’ll see you round Matt” I replied

Going our separate ways I looked down at my phone, 6:55pm…. Sighing, I walked back to my car close to the cafe and drove home.

Shuffling up the stairs I pushed my apartment door open after unlocking it. Making note that I must call the maintenance guy because that door needs some WD40 badly.

Locking the door I turned my lights on. Today just felt strange like I couldn’t put my finger in exactly what the fuck was going on.

Walking over to my patio I opened the sliding door and stepped out. Taking in the evening breeze my mind just went blank.

Stepping back inside I grabbed my purse, grabbing my lighter I shuffled my hand around my purse to feel for my pack of cigarettes. But my brows furrowed when I didn’t feel the square container.

Walking over towards the light I opened my bag more and looked inside. An annoyed feeling washed over me as I couldn’t find the box. I mean honestly good because I did not need anymore.

Still searching as if the box was going to magically appear. I groaned soon realizing I must’ve left them on the bench and they are for a fact long gone by now.

Throwing my lighter back into my purse I groaned and sat on my couch. The one time I desperately need a cigarette I fucking left it on the pier.

I cut that night short with a 80s movie marathon and left over pizza as a midnight snack.

remembering that tomorrow I had to stop into the cafe to pick up my paycheck. We’re living in a very digital world right now and my job still does paper checks….

Groaning at that I decided to call it a night….

The End

Okayyy IVE BEEN GONE FOR SOOO FUCKING LONG. And I’m sooo sorry it’s just life has been so crazy since March! However this was the end of part 1….stay tuned for more🥺🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[foxy-eva]

Cowboy Like Me

Summary: Spencer decides to fulfill a childhood dream

Author’s Note: This story is loosely based on the conversation Spencer and JJ have in S15E07 about parallel universes (a.k.a. Cowboy Spencer)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: none

Word count: 1.9k

Masterlist

Toy departments have always been magical for me. I clearly remember walking through them wide-eyed as a little girl, entranced by all the colorful and sparkly objects calling to me. There was nothing more exciting than to find one of them perfectly wrapped on birthdays or Christmas, waiting for me to play with it. 

Even as an adult I couldn't hide my child-like wonder as I walked along the aisles. Spencer was clearly more focussed on my reactions than on whatever toy we could pick for his godson's birthday. When my eyes landed on a particular stuffed animal, a gasp fell from my lips. 

When I reached out to hold it in my hands, Spencer chuckled, "I don't think Michael is into sheep. He's more of a dinosaur kind of boy."

I took the plushie into my hands, inspecting it thoroughly. In an instant I was taken back to childhood days, playing peacefully with a very similar one. 

"She looks just like her," I whispered. 

Spencer wasn't sure what I was talking about when he asked, "Like who?" 

"Fluffy. A sheep plushie I had as a child. I loved her so much but unfortunately I lost her when we moved."

"Awe I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe we should give this one a new home?" Spencer suggested. 

I put the toy back on the shelf and shook my head. “No, that’s okay. I’m sure it’ll make a child very happy someday.” 

Taking my hand in his, Spencer walked me to a different section of the store to find the perfect present for Michael. 

Neither of us mentioned my little anecdote again and I almost forgot about it altogether. That was until I got home from work a few days later. Spencer was waiting for me on the couch with the small sheep plushie sitting beside him. A wide smile was painted all over his face when we locked eyes. 

“What’s this?” I snickered as I took the toy in my hands to inspect it. 

“Fluffy 2.0 – or whatever you want to name it,” he said. “I had to go back to get it. You seemed so happy when you found it, so I thought it’d be nice to have it as a little reminder of your childhood.”

I found my place beside him on the couch, pressing a brief kiss on his lips to thank him. The toy not only reminded me of days long gone, it also took me back to my first ever career aspiration. 

“There’s actually more to the story,” I confessed. 

He placed his arms around my waist to bring me closer while he encouraged me to tell him about it. “I would love to hear it.”

It had always been astounding to me that even after years of knowing someone, there were still parts of their lives we had no idea about. Sometimes it made me wonder if it was even possible to know everything about our loved ones. After Spencer had surprised me with stories about his past - most of them a lot less merry than what I was about to tell him - it was my turn to let him in on this unknown side of me. 

“The reason I got Fluffy in the first place was because I was obsessed with sheep. It was all I could ever talk about. You know how most little girls want to be a nurse or a teacher or even a princess? Well, I wanted to be a shepherdess. I dreamed of living in the countryside with my flock of sheep, doing nothing all day other than walk around and pet them.”

Spencer couldn’t hide the playful tone in his voice when he chuckled, “That’s adorable.” 

I pinched his stomach, whining, “Hey, don’t make fun of me!” 

He was quick to take my hand in his, softly kissing it before telling me, “I’m not! I swear. I genuinely think that this is really sweet. So, what happened to that dream?” 

I thought about my answer for a moment until I decided to tell him the truth. “I would like to say that I grew out of it but the truth is, I still think about it sometimes.” 

Spencer seemed genuinely surprised. “You do?”

“Not about becoming a full-time shepherdess – I know that’s unrealistic for me – but I sometimes imagine us living on a little farm with a bunch of animals. Some chicken, my little flock of sheep, maybe even some alpacas,” I explained. 

I expected him to be more surprised by my confession but instead he asked, “Can I let you in on a little secret too?” 

After I nodded, he told me, “I actually like to imagine that there is a parallel universe where I’m a cowboy.” 

“A cowboy?” I giggled. “I would have never guessed that.” 

“Yeah. Maybe in this alternate reality you’d be a shepherdess and we’d fall in love after meeting at the farmer’s market,” he cooed before placing a kiss into my hair. 

I really liked this fantasy he created, I could see those alternate versions of us living a rural life. 

“I’d love that for us. We could sell milk and wool together after joining our ranches. We’d be the hottest farmers in town. The cowboy and the shepherdess.” 

Spencer laughed out loud at my words before adding, “I’m sure you’d be the hottest farmer in the whole state.”

For the following weeks we kept talking about this fantasy, adding details and creating scenarios of what we'd do in this parallel universe. It became like a nighttime routine to us to let cowboy Spencer and his wife go on adventures together. It might seem silly to anyone else but those stories became very near and dear to our hearts. 

Never had I expected that even a fraction of our fantasy world could ever come true. That was until one sunny Saturday morning when Spencer told me he had a surprise for me. It was rare for him to be the one to drive but it was even rarer for him to not tell me where we'd be going. Despite my constant pleading to let me in on his secret, he kept his lips sealed. 

I didn't recognize the roads he was taking when we left the city but I did enjoy the landscape the further we got away. After a forty-five minute drive, he pulled into the driveway of a very small but unbelievably cute ranch. There was a beautiful house with a small stable and a garden waiting to grow vegetables in it. 

Before I could wonder what we would be doing here, I took my time to take everything in. When I turned my head, I found Spencer smiling at me, curious about my reaction. I got out of the car to take a few steps towards the front door of the house. 

"What are we doing here?"

I expected him to tell me we'd spend the day here to pet some sheep and cattle. That wasn't what he had planned though. 

He was hesitant to answer me at first but when he began to explain, he did it in his usual rambling manner. "I found this little ranch for sale at a really good price. It'll need some work before we could actually live here but Morgan already offered to help us. The stable is in good shape though."

His words didn't make sense to me. I stared at him with lips agape and eyes widened. I kept looking back and forth between him and the house. 

When I finally found my voice again, I squeaked, "What? Spencer, this is crazy!"

"It's an adventure," he corrected me.

Still unsure of what to think, I breathed, "I don't know what to say."

He took my hand and gently squeezed it. "How about yes? Think about it. We're still within driving distance to both our workplaces. It's small enough to be able to take care of everything after work and who knows, maybe someday we'll actually sell our own milk and wool at the farmer's market. Just like we talked about."

Although my head was trying to come up with so many reasons why this couldn’t be a good idea, my heart screamed at me to agree with him, so I sighed, "You are very good at making compelling arguments. How could I ever say no to that?" 

"Thank god,” he groaned in relief while pointing at the stable. “I already bought two sheep." 

With a firm grip around my hand, he led me to the door where I could hear the sheep he just mentioned. 

In complete disbelief of everything that was going on, I said, "You did what? We don't even own this place yet!" 

Spencer just shrugged and mumbled, "I mean…”

"Spencer!” I reprimanded him, “You can't make big decisions like that without me! What if I had said no?"

While opening the door to the stable for me to look at the two young sheep, he said, "It was worth the risk." 

My husband must have completely lost his mind and I loved him so much for that. I stepped closer to the little creatures, reaching out my hand to make contact with their soft wool. They were very curious to get to know me, making my heart melt when they began nuzzling their little snouts against my hands. 

Spencer glanced over my face, wondering, "Are you mad at me?"

A bright smile spread across my face when I found his eyes, explaining, "I can't be mad at you for doing something so sweet. Very irrational, but sweet."

“I know it’s not a whole flock yet but it’s a start. How do you want to name them?” 

I was mesmerized by the little lambs in front of me when I cooed, “They look like little clouds.” 

“We could call them Alto and Cirro. Like the types of clouds,” he suggested.

“That’s perfect.” 

We spent the rest of the day at our future home, figuring out what exactly we wanted to do with this place. It would take at least a couple of weeks until we could move here. Even though it was impractical to have to come here every day to take care of our sheep, I was still looking forward to finally make my childhood dream to be a shepherdess come true. 

When I came home from running errands the next day, it was my turn to surprise my husband. It didn’t come close to the grand gesture of buying a ranch, but I still knew he’d appreciate it. He was reading a book about farming when I approached him in the living room, hiding a foreign object behind my back. 

With one eyebrow raised he looked at me and chuckled, “What do you have there?”

I showed him the ridiculously large cowboy hat and he broke out in laughter. 

“I know we don’t have cattle nor horses yet but I still wanted you to feel like a cowboy,” I giggled. 

When he put the hat on, my heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man in front of me. He placed a soft kiss on my lips before thanking me.

“I love it. And I love you,” he said. “How about we get going to see Alto and Cirro?” 

“I would love nothing more, cowboy.” 

If you enjoyed reading this story you should check out the other fluff fics in my SFW Masterlist!

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[simpliao]

Hi! I just started following you and oh my god you JSchlatt fics are so good, I can’t get enough!!! If you’re taking requests right now, I’d like to ask for a little protective Schlatt! With the internet being what it is, I can imagine that maybe it wouldn’t be to kind to Schlatt’s SO. Or maybe you might have another scenario in mind? Again, thank you so much for all your writing, it makes my day!!! ❤️

i will shoot you dead ; (irl) schlatt x reader

summary : he couldn't give a shit what people say about him; what actually irritates him is when those assholes involve people that have nothing to do with whatever they're bullshitting about. he's made it a point not to involve his personal life, but when it gets leaked and his s/o gets targeted; he isn't fucking happy.

info : swearing, protective schlatt, pet names, she/her, afab reader, mentions of harassment and death threats, and fluff.

a/n : this was such a good idea i couldn't pass up ah, thank you so much for enjoying ! i am and attempting to post around every two/three days but school is just starting so i'm unsure how well i'll manage. to everyone else that requested, still working on it so apologizes that they are semi-late ! hope this also lives up to your expectations.

Being rich at twenty-three was a blessing and a curse, since he acquired all his wealth from being an Internet personality so to speak. Having what should have been a hobby bare so much fruit wasn't without its issues, and the drawback was most definitely the fame. People in his business, attempting to figure out his name and address, outraged from jokes and pretending that they understand him to a personal level; he was grateful for the normal ones, but one outspoken psycho made him rethink all his life choices.

It was never the audience's right to know or interact with his private life, to the creators that do let their fans have that window into their life was a privilege, not a right. So he never did tell anyone past his close circle of friends of his lover, Y/n, a blue collared worker not high up within her company but making good money to be independent. To Schlatt, she was his own little slice of heaven, always giving him the right kind of realistic advice while could always acknowledge and take in account his own feelings.

To some: she might be considered perfectly average, but he saw beyond the rest, she was more than just a pretty face anyways. He adored her ambition to work her hardest and larger than life aspirations. Despite knowing of the kind of money her boyfriend possessed, she never dared asked for a penny; he appreciated that she wanted her own individual success that came from her and not from outside sources. Being that she was also probably one of the most appreciate human beings he's ever had the chance to meet just added to her charm; she never let him so much as pay for a coffee without him hearing a thousand and one thank yous. She was his to love and adore, no one else should have been mixed up in their lives.

She had absolutely zero internet presence, and he liked it that way. Since she wasn't big into the public sphere she wouldn't be caught up in all the bullshit that followed him. Many people despised him despite not having spoken to or even knowing him beyond his flamboyant internet persona; it was fucking stupid, usually they never really bothered him no matter how much they so desperately wanted to cancel him and throw him off the internet. That's where he thought it ended, they despised him, they couldn't logically harass people that possible know him, right? Wrong.

'uh, schlatt? I'm getting a lot of emails about you coming to my work email. Did you tell people about my job or anything?'

Being that for almost the past decade most if not all of his friends had taken to calling him by his last name it eventually became used more or less so by everyone in his life more than his real one. It wasn't that his girlfriend didn't know his name or hadn't asked, she also enjoyed the sound of it and ended up being the default thing she'd call him.

The text itself was unusual, he wasn't even sure if he knew her work email let alone tell it to other people.

'What? No. I don't even know your email. What are they saying?'

'I have it in my LinkedIn profile, they're asking what's my relationship to you. Some are threatening to message my higher-ups claiming I'm a racist? They keep linking me back to Twitter. I can't work when my important emails are drowned out in this. I had one threatening to come where I work and hurt me.'

'Listen, sweetheart, I'm so sorry I really didn't think that they'd find you. I'll do my best to fix this, I'll come pick you up from work today too so don't leave the building until I arrive.'

A spark of rage ignited from within him, he was sure to be careful about not revealing her identity or even mentioning much about her. He knew how bad these people could get and how low they would stoop because they had no lives and just wanted to get the better of him; he wanted to protect her and now all he felt like was a failure. He was quick to log into Twitter and type in 'Jschlatt Girlfriend' and it was almost immediate that he found the thread of the asshole that went as far as to dox him and figure out who and where Y/n was. "He is a bad person that deserves all the things coming to him." It was written with such conviction, as if dragging unrelated people into a stupid ass controversy about another testing-the-line joke he told. He didn't care what they did to him, but threatening to hurt those closest to him struck a nerve that made him want to do some... Fairly illegal things to these people.

So he hoped that most people had some common sense left, screen shotted the thread and the text from his lover and was quick to make a comment about it.

Say whatever the fuck you want about me. But actively try to dox and threaten my girlfriend when she has nothing to do with any of this bullshit online and I will shoot you dead. Fuck you.

He knew these saggy fuckers wouldn't dare try anything, not when they'd know he'd be right there waiting for them. Was he serious when he said he'd shoot them dead? Only half so. He wasn't scared to use the firearm that he kept at home for protection, and neither was he scared to do what he needed to for the sake of protecting the only bright spot in his life. She didn't deserve this. He knew the hate for him could get damn strong, and who knows who amongst them would be crazy enough to act on those words. He wasn't going to test it and he would clearly set the boundary; don't fuck with him in real life, or you have to deal with him in real life.

It can be said he was not in a good mood as he waited outside the glass skyscraper building for his girl, since the few hours that he tweeted out about the situation public opinion turned more into his favour. Although he still had those that were adamant that he was said bad person, vast majority agreed that the original poster of her information was the biggest asshole. The thread was deleted but he saved all the screenshots and had the username burned into his mind, may god save that asshole's soul should Schlatt ever get his hands on him.

Once he saw her exiting the azure-tinted building he was quick to slip his phone into his pocket and get out of the car, running up to the door to greet her. A sheepish smile graced her lips as she gave him a soft wave, he noticed how she wore his favourite blazer and skirt set and how gorgeous she looked in it, but a more important question left his lips first. "Are you okay?" A worried one captured her features, "yeah I am, you look so stressed out. I'm sorry if I worried you." He shook his head and took hold of the hand that reached up to cup his face, "don't apologize, if anything I should. Being involved with me got you in this." A sympathetic look flashed her features as he walked side-by-side with her, a soft smile growing to her own face.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, I reported it to HR and although it took a while to explain they made sure to notify security about it and I had one guy follow me around when I went out for lunch, he was nice about it too. I had to ask help how to set it so they'd all go to spam but we worked it out eventually. So, please, don't worry too much; I'll be okay I promise." He looked down to see her reassuring smile, he knew she'd worry more over him than her own safety. He knew working himself up was an overreaction, he doubted anything would happen; but should something do he wouldn't ever forgive himself. "So, don't shoot anyone?" His eyebrows shot up at this, "you saw my tweet?" Last time he checked this girl had an issue figuring out how to change her profile picture on instagram.

"Well, other people did. A lot of people caught wind that I was getting death threats so I ended up having to explain who you were and they found your Twitter. Please uh, don't kill anyone on my behalf?" An airy chuckle left him, as he knelt down to kiss her temple, "and leave you behind to go to jail, toots? You're gonna have to try harder than that if you want to get rid of me." Seeing his ease and cheeky grin come about, a sense of relief washed over her. "So then, you wanna go out to–" "no." "Huh, why?"

She separated from him for just a moment so she could get into the passenger's side of the car. "We can go out when this whole thing blows over. Until then I don't want you running out of sight." It may have sounded slightly demanding, but she knew that his anxiety must have been through the roof; overthinking was one of his flaws that they worked through together. It wasn't like it was all that big of a deal, chilling out at the apartment sounded just as nice. "Movie night then?" Her enthusiasm was infectious that he couldn't help but break a smile. "Yes, please."

[not-poignant]

Daily excerpt from today's writing, chapter 24 of Palmarosa:

‘Devil’s in the details, even at moments like this. You have to move them to ease the pain. Poor, poor Eurus, that’s all he was trying to do.’ Raphael stopped squeezing and instead gently took Astarion’s left little finger and stretched the finger out, then curled it in, and Astarion’s knees went weak. The pain wasn’t as bad as before, it was already improving, but he was exhausted just from this. He had no idea why. Where had all his stamina gone? Raphael leaned in, their faces close enough that Astarion could look past him and see the way the others stared. ‘You really do loathe being a spectacle, don’t you? Even when you’re a well-cultivated prize, a treasure one becomes desperate to toy with.’ ‘Ah, yes, because that is one’s true aspiration, to become a toy.’ ‘Mm? Wouldn’t it be nice to want for nothing?’ Astarion winced as Raphael moved onto the next finger, and then closed his eyes at the next. The blasted fiend was actually working the pain out with dexterous touches, was helping, and Astarion couldn’t help but feel as though it was all a game. ‘Look at what you do with your freedom,’ Raphael said, kneeling back onto his heels as he pulled Astarion’s arms into his lap, and Astarion let it happen now that his fingers were hurting less. ‘My, but your knuckles are rather swollen, how careless of the creatures here to not understand how their craft might impact different races.’ ‘Experimenting on aberrations is not on the top of my list of things to do,’ Eurus said from nearby. ‘And what freedom? He has none.’ ‘Ah, but you should have seen what he was doing with it before I dove back into his life like a falcon. A free mouse that hangs about in a barren field is free for the taking, wouldn’t you say?’

[visacardteamloverrr]

i'll be waiting - c.s.

warnings!!!!!!: my first ever work, pls do not come at me, english is very much not my native language and also this is not proofread. i had this idea for a looooong time and now im sleep deprived so enjoyyy

genre: angst, sort of

inspired by cian's ducrot song - i'll be waiting

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

leave your keys if you're not coming home

if carlos noticed your absence at home, he would already try to confront you about it, no? after all you hadn't been in your flat for something around five weeks.

that's enough time to realize that something or rather someone is missing, right? and yet, still no call.

maybe he didn't see the blank space in your wardrobe, or the lack of your cd's collection. well he would at least see your keys laying on the table.

you were moving in, now you're moving on

carlos should've known better as to let you go. he couldn't even recall when you stopped sleeping in your, no, his bed, and when your beloved cd's collection disappeared.

it came rather natural. without big fights, without screaming and crying.

somewhere in between his races and your work, you began to lose each other. and now there was nothing else left as to move on.

he aspired to do it like you moved out - slowly but steady.

wish you'd call so I could say goodbye

no matter what, you still missed him. yes, you were enjoying yourself since you broke things off and yes he broke your heart, but there was this compulsion and you couldn't quite put a name on it. you felt as vital part of you were missing and you wanted to call, to say that you should try again, that this time it will be better. but you knew better than lowering your standards for a boy. if he couldn't give you what you wanted then you wouldn't settle for less. charles and lando had let you know how miserable carlos is, but you have put yourself first. now it is time for you to be yours number one priority.

however, you wanted closure. you wanted to know that splitting up was the right choice. you wanted to ultimately close this, his chapter of your life.

you just wanted to say goodbye.

and let you know, i'll wait for you every night

there is a saying about appreciating something when it's gone, and that's how he felt. carlos let the love of his life slip through his fingers.

the best thing that's ever happened to him were you. whenever he was winning, whenever he was frustrated about his race, whenever he felt like the whole world was against him you were there for him.

you were the light of his life, his anchor. and he still couldn't appreciate you enough. somewhere on the way he'd taken you for granted.

[compassionatereminders]

today I read a post on Instagram that asked people to share their worst experiences with first dates. one of the posts said:

"I went out with a girl, I asked what she did and what her dreams were. She didn't study, she didn't work, she didn't want to go to college. When I asked what her dream career was, she replied that she had never thought about it. I was like 😨 😨"

this comment had thousands of likes and the responses were like "the worst thing that exists is idle people" or "run away".

a few years ago, i'd have read this comment and probably agreed with it. after seeing ur blog and reading the things you say and reblog, i now feel uncomfortable reading this kind of thing. i saw a comment from just one girl saying:

"I was once a person like that, but not because of laziness, I just didn't have the desire to live, without dreams, goals, objectives......"

it got a lot less likes and no responses. i know that there are people who are toxic, people who like to abuse other people's money, but... i keep thinking about so many things, about people unable to work, people who have worked a lot and can no longer find a job...

determining the value of a human being by the work they do, mainly by their professional aspirations, seems so 🫥 to me that i no longer share this same thought. thanks for showing me that this isn't fair

I'm glad you've grown to question statements like that, because while there's nothing wrong with valuing ambition and similar traits, I'm very much opposed to the idea that we all are or should be defined by careers and productivity and that having a successful career is the only way to be a valuable person... Like we're all much more than what capitalism tries to reduce us to!

[jobrrr]

I don't get it because when Rae gave Claire the amulet Claire was confused because she believed Rae truly has feelings for her but in this week's episode she's back to not believing it?

Hi, thanks for the ask anon. Happy to provide my take. Hope you're ready for a long post.

I guess we have to start with how our two girls are flawed as characters. Claire has two big things that she has to work through. First she lives in a pretty rigid world, and she has been raised a noble, and is expected to act like a noble. While she has a high standard for what she thinks a noble should be, this world view has only started to be challenged and her truths aren't really being truths anymore. When Matt the commoner got badly hurt by Yu’s attendant and she saw how that unfolded the cracks started to form. To her that was wrong, nothing about that should have happened like that but it did. I’ll be spoiler light to start, but going forward her assumptions about a lot of things are going to be challenged and change doesn’t happen overnight. So what does this mean for Rae and her? Well in short they are incompatible in her mind, and even if she wanted something, that doesn’t matter because she has to be a proper noble and proper nobles do not get together with commoners. Factor into that that she has expected that she will do what a proper noble lady will do, and that is to marry a proper noble man. As I mentioned before Claire holds the idea of being a noble to a very high standard, to her it’s an important role and carries a lot of responsibility and she puts a lot of her self worth into the idea.

So we get this line, ‘I’m me and you’re you. I’m a noble and you’re a commoner. Nothing more, nothing less.” Honestly I love this line, cause it's why Claire is tragic. She won't allow herself to act on her wants, and the thing is, even if it takes her a while to come to terms with it. She does want Rae. It’s why she never lets the amulet go, and we will see it again. There is a reason it's part of the closing credits. 

Now secondly, and this sort of feeds into the previous point, a part of Claire believes she can not be loved, and that she deserves it. She does not think that love fits into the ideal of a Noble, and while she gushed at Thane at first, I think that it mostly because she was acting in a way that she thought she was expected to. She is a very high ranking noble, and so she should aspire to the best wife possible. I’m not saying she didn’t have a crush on, but I do think these expectations she placed on herself put a lot of weight into that crush, and if we pay attention to what’s going on between these two? Thane spoke against his father to help them in court and save Lene’s life. Afterwards what did she do? She was with Rae, they celebrated and she never brought him up. As we saw in her flashback, Claire lost her mother at a very young age, and the last thing she told her mother was that she hated her. This is the root for her self value, and when Lene is exiled it’s like opening an old wound for her. Claire thinks she is unkind and unlovable.

This is a huge source of self doubt for Claire, and there is a part of her that thinks she will drive away everyone in her life. There is a part of her that blames herself for Lene leaving, that if she had paid more attention, tried harder, been better things would have turned out better. So how does Rae factor into this? Terrible, at least from Claire’s initial perspective. Rae comes in, being incredibly silly, and spouting what’s to her is nonsense, about being in love with her. It puts her guards up because she has this self doubt, she thinks she is being played, used. It doesn’t help when Rae seemingly changes her father’s mind by dropping a single name. And it really doesn’t help that Rae never explains anything to her and so rarely acts genuine. Claire is perceptive, she knows how to read people and play the social scene. We see it when she comes to Rae’s rescue in the cafe. She knows something is up with Rae, and she isn’t going to figure it out until Rae tells her.

So let's talk about Rae now. Rae, narratively speaking is misleading, from the beginning she set the expectation that this is going to be silly, as a series (and it is) but then we get more serious moments, like Misha asking if she is gay and then we start to see the depth to her. So We have this moment.

In the manga Rae doesn’t explain anything in the moment to Claire, outside of saying she is her guiding light. She doesn’t want anything from Claire expect for to be happy. In the Anime she still doesn’t explain everything but she does say a lot more, and if I’m being frank I think it runs against why it works. Without Rae’s explanation, it keeps Rae a mystery to Claire, hard to pin down and potentially dangerous, no matter how alluring or happy she makes her. And I think this is what makes a lot of Manaria, and the Scale of Love arc work so well.

Rae’s flaws mirror’s Claire’s. She doesn’t think Claire can love her, and it’s why she acts the way she does. She is ultimately avoiding being hurt, Rae is a silly person, but she acts it up and she acts it up a lot. She makes her love for Claire seem like a joke. Because if it’s a joke, then the appropriate reaction is to just laugh and not think about it. Claire will of course reject her because she was never being serious. And this way she won't reject her for real. Because that would hurt too much. Driving Claire away for real is the worst thing that could happen in Rae’s mind.

Also like Claire, her world view and assumptions are working against her. Rae grew up being gay in highschool in Japan. It’s something she talks about later and we won't see it animated unless there is a season 2, but it wasn't a great experience and she is carrying a bunch of her own baggage from Japan. She wants a relationship with Claire, but in her mind that is impossible.

And Rae’s knowledge of the world as a game is working against her for this. She is making huge assumptions about Claire because she thinks she knows everything about her, she even claims to know more about the game then the game devs do. The worst assumption is that Claire is straight, and that Claire will be happy with Thane.

These flaws are the friction in the relationship, and it’s as they both unpack and untether themselves from those flaws, their relationship grows. We have had stirrings in Claire up to this point, but to her Rae’s flaws are making it hard for her to trust her, and coming up in this arc we are going to see Rae have to start to confront her own flaws.

Before Manaria shows up, Rae is stuck in this limbo. She thinks she is happy to be around Claire, and to take care of her but it’s not going great. Lene is gone and it’s been hard on Claire. Rae is trying to use her usual methods to cheer up Claire but it’s not really working. I think this addition from the anime is stellar actually. Lindsay Sheppard nails it in the English version. 

It’s said in such a fond way, but it’s solemn. She wants Rae around, but she does not see how it can ever happen. A part of her thinks that whatever relationship she has with Rae, is doomed to end just like Lene, and her mother.

So enters Manaria. God Rae needs a kick and pants and Manaria is here to do that. Rae needs to grow for the things to happen and this is probably one of my favorite parts of the series.

That made sense right? I hope this makes sense, honestly these two have been living in head so much that last couple months.

[knightsickness]

hiii can you elaborate on the "harwin getting fucked over again and again" thing is it just the whole "everyone knows but won't acknowledge the kids being his and he has to stay and deal with that judgement while not being allowed to parent them ever" thing or is there more?

harwin i think is interesting bc he’s so obviously part of a conversation abt targ exceptionalism both in how his sons are ostracised bc of his features but also, far less addressed, how he is ultimately disposable, but bc he’s so apparently satisfied with his objectively shitty situation it never NEEDS to be addressed. he’s this deeply strange character of either inscrutable and extremely shallow motivations bc what happens to him is fucked up but if he’s doing it for anything other than enthusiastic uncoerced love of the game or at any point complains about his situation rhaenyra is doing something greyer than the show will let her be OR harwin is another bitter lowly asshole trying to dim her sparkle

interesting to compare to criston bc his arrangement w rhaenyra is exactly what she proposed to criston and he rejected + while criston is obviously a singularly awful guy for many other reasons i DON’T think he was in the wrong on that one i think not wanting to spend his life in constant mortal danger with no oaths and no honour and no reward but getting to be with rhaenyra was not unreasonable + rhaenyra not recognising that does say something interesting abt her and how she views people specifically non targs around her. it’s often flattened into a ‘he could have been the most powerful guy in westeros and fumbled’ or worse unironic ‘he should have known his place and just been her whore’ when if we’re being honest judging from the everybody else who thought they could escape the targaryen grinding wheel by going along with it (including harwin) he would have been dead in three years tops

and she can just do that w harwin not bc criston is weird (not in that way at least) but bc harwin is weird. his motivations can really only be that he genuinely singlemindedly loves rhaenyra to the point he’s fine with apparently not marrying or having legitimate kids to stay close to her and the boys and ruining his reputation for an adulterer and how his dad (even though he’s the strong knight eldest son who should make him proud) is now always angry and disappointed and yes how he’s at a middle distance from his kids and the moment that slips he goes home in disgrace and is immediately murdered in part bc of the political ramifications of his and rhaenyra’s relationship. nothing about the relationship gains him anything politically it actively ruins his life how could he do all this knowingly hang his reputation and potentially himself if he didn’t love her more than ANYTHING and he was neverr rhaenyra’s number one. and he knew this and was ok with it she’s uncomplicatedly fond of him she obviously likes him a lot but he dies and she’s sad and she doesn’t go to the funeral bc the optics are bad and she quickly marries daemon who she’s always loved. how thankless !

harwin’s relationship w her is convenient and not really dissected bc he’s acting in rhaenyra’s best interests. and we like rhaenyra !! the show is written to make rhaenyra likeable and it is well written they do a good job at that. that he IS cool with it is more important than WHY he’s cool with it. harwin is a contrast to criston bc unlike criston he doesn’t have aspirations above his station and will not try to argue with any of rhaenyra’s entrenched beliefs about targaryen relationships being inherently more meaningful and then turn around and kick a puppy to death to show he’s evil and you don’t need to take anything he’s said seriously. but like Why Is He Doing This