#and they’re nowhere near done

[demigodofhoolemere]

Film is Fabulous is currently cataloguing over 600 film cans that they’ve been loaned for the first part of a study and will be announcing their findings as they go, and this is literally me staring at all of their posts desperately hoping for the magic words “Doctor Who” at some point

[inkluvs]

hehehe okay steeb blurb later today and that leaves 1 celebration request (i know it’s been over a month hush) anddd a few for the flower themed ones <3

[uncaught-coolfish]

ykno. the more I think about it. the more I realize that anti critics who vehemently praise “canon” sienna would not like bhwf HEIWOWNSJSBSHSVS

[dragonologist-phd]

man I need to finish this fucking game so I can form more coherent thoughts about these characters

[helloidkwhatimdoing-0]

Clawing at the walls of my enclosure

[lesspopped]

since I’ve spoken to a few different people who were disappointed by the outcome of the elections, especially people who haven’t voted in many elections previously, and so were surprised to hear this: y’all, this election actually went shockingly well for the democratic party. as a rule, the sitting president’s party does not do well in midterms, especially the first midterm after that president is elected. this is the best a sitting president’s party has done in the midterm in twenty years. the last time it went this well for the sitting president’s party was 2002, when the republicans were still riding the post-9/11 jingoism wave. in the first midterm after obama was elected, the democratic party lost 63 house seats; last I checked the nyt's final projection for them to lose this time was somewhere in the neighborhood of 12.

yes, it sucks that we’re likely losing the house and it sucks that the senate is still up in the air and it super sucks that the democrats have basically given up on bothering to campaign in florida. but losing the house was always likely and we have not lost it by nearly as much as we were predicted to, and honestly, without a filibuster-proof majority, even having both chambers of congress isn’t a guarantee of being able to get much done there. there are definitely disappointments, but this is nowhere near a disaster. ultimately, from what I can tell, there are a lot more republicans disappointed by this election than democrats, because this was supposed to be a massive blowout for the republicans and it very much has not been. like, at all. 

again I am not saying there are not things to be disappointed by, and it sucks immeasurably that we have to take “this didn’t go as badly as it could have” as a victory, but also, it really, really is a victory. at the very least, it’s not a flat-out defeat, and there are a lot of reasons not to feel despair. the smaller, state-level victories are not as flashy and dramatic as the higher-profile ones like the house or senate, but they’re extremely important, and will make a huge difference in a lot of people’s lives — in many cases a greater difference, day-to-day, than the senate or house elections will make. it’s really important not to lose sight of these wins.

(personally, what was really keeping me up at night was a) abortion referendums and b) the number of 2020 election deniers who were running for state- or local-level seats that would have put them in the position of being in charge of election administration in 2024 and beyond, making it much easier for them to rig future elections. well, republicans have pretty soundly gotten their asses handed to them on both counts, which is fan-fucking-tastic. like I said, these are not necessarily the things that get a lot of attention on the national level, but they’re so, so important and will make a big difference for a lot of people in the coming years.)

[sixosix]

INFATUATED | AETHER

i. summary mutual pining but aether is a tease and you're an idiot

ii. tags 1.5k words, aether helplessly in love, reader being dumb and in denial, bff!yoimiya may be ooc and may embarrass you, set in inazuma, fluff & flirting

Aether’s always smiling whenever you see him.

At first, you thought it was because he’s just a happy little guy, always wearing a grin as bright as his hair. Like the sun, and you’re but a flower soaking in his light. But then you hear how people talk about him—

“He’s quite terrifying, isn’t he? Sometimes I get too scared to ask for help…”

“They weren't joking about what they said regarding the Traveler. He looks young and yet has the eyes of a seasoned warrior.”

“Scary. And a bit strange. His eyes are so… blank. It’s like he’s drifting out, and it’s why he has that pixie around to do all the talking.”

—and now, you’re not so sure. The Aether you’ve met is nowhere near the Traveler they keep raving about. Are they dealing with a doppelgänger?

Yoimiya mulls over your words with a thoughtful hum. She loudly sips on her drink. “Hmm, have you ever considered it might be because he’s just happy every time you’re there?”

You scoff, nestling into your chair with crossed arms—to protect yourself from Yoimiya’s wild imagination, no doubt. “That’d be absolutely presumptuous of me to even think about.” Aether? Happy to see you? Absurd.

She tilts her head as if she pities you. “I’m blessed to not have turned out this oblivious.”

“Hey!”

“Listen to me.” She sets her glass down; it rattles the table. The owner casts you both a stern look. “He’s really just infatuated with you. How hard is it to see that?”

Very hard. Yoimiya is reaching. This is one of the truths she’s trying to pursue—except there is no truth here, just plain fantasy. “It doesn’t make sense,” you insist, growing frustrated. “He’s the Traveler, I’m no one important.”

She hums. “I’ll admit no one in Teyvat can compare to the Traveler, but no one else seems to make him happier than you do. Which is why I’m saying that explains why he’s smiling whenever you—”

“Bold assumptions you’re making,” you interrupt quickly.

“Trust me! He liiiiikes you in that way.”

“Why? How do you know that?”

“‘cause,” Yoimiya grins, her eyes sparkling. She’s as excited as she usually is talking about fireworks. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I can ask him, if you wanna be sure about it.”

“Please don’t ask him anything weird,” you plead. “He’s met so many people, Yoimiya. Why me? What do I have to offer to the holder of the dragon-defeating, god-slaying, renowned fatui-slaughtering reputation? Nothing!”

“Does he have to be with someone who’s done all of that?” she asks, and your thoughts come to a halt. Does it? No, certainly not—unless that’s what he wants. And that might be what he wants!

“Well,” you clear your throat. “Perhaps, if that’s what makes him happy.” At Yoimiya’s quirked brow, you slouch in defeat, cheeks heating up at even thinking about what Aether’s type is. “You’re enjoying this,” you murmur at the sight of Yoimiya’s conspiratorial grin.

“I’m not, I’ve just never seen you act this shy and cute before! So this is what you’re like when you have a crush?” Over Yoimiya’s shoulder, you spot a familiar pixie and a mop of golden hair from afar, walking over.

Your eyes widen, “I am not acting shy and cute—”

“What’s this? Y/N has a crush!?” Paimon’s shrieky voice is unmistakable. It’s hard to mistake her even if you tried. They’re still a few feet away, but Yoimiya’s voice can be very loud.

“I don’t,” you want to snark, however meeting Aether’s eyes has your voice going quiet. Maybe Yoimiya’s right: you are acting very shy. “Hi, Aether, Paimon.”

“Ooh,” Paimon giggles, kicking her feet. “What were you two talking about, huh? Paimon heard Yoimiya talking about a crush.” Paimon notices your wide-eyed panic. “Oh, Paimon can kick Aether out!”

Exasperated, Aether casts Paimon a look. “Who’s gonna pay for your order?”

Paimon deflates. “W-Well, Paimon can ask Yoimiya—”

“No can do; I spent all Mora on me already.”

“—Then, Paimon will—”

You arch an eyebrow. “I don’t think I can afford your usual orders. Don’t look at me. I’m a starving artist already.”

She huffs. “Fine! Paimon was trying to protect your secret but she guesses that no one’s appreciating it anyway!” Paimon, the only one who’s terrible at keeping secrets, says. She turns to her companion, hands clasped together. “Aether…”

“Alright, alright,” Aether sighs, pulling out his wallet. The poor thing.

You and Yoimiya share a look as Aether orders food for him and Paimon. You weren’t anticipating that the Traveler—the subject of your predicament—would end up here, out of all the corners and food stalls in Inazuma. Then again, that’s his thing: he’s everywhere, all at once, including the nook and cranny of your heart.

Aether turns to you, a smile blossoming across his face, which is nice, actually, despite the flutter of your heart that is starting to feel like horror. His side profile was driving you crazy, anyway. “Should we leave you two to talk about crushes?”

Just one word directed at you is enough to have you fidgeting uselessly in your seat. And this doesn’t go unacknowledged by Yoimiya, who springs up to save the day. “Don’t worry about it, Traveler! We were just talking about this—this novel that we started reading the other day.”

“Really?” Aether doesn’t sound like he believes it one bit. “Well, Paimon and I have been looking for reading material anyway. Would you mind if we borrowed it?” Said pixie is too busy stuffing her face with Dry-Braised Salted Fish to care about reading materials.

You turn to Yoimiya with a forced smile, then back to Aether, who seems so visibly amused by how you’re acting. You must look like a mess. You feel like it. “Well, I haven’t really finished it…but—but we can tell you about it!”

“Yeah, exactly!” Yoimiya looks like she’s having the time of her life. “Y/N has a big crush on the main character, which is why we were talking about him.”

Aether hums, chewing, “What’s he like?”

Yoimiya narrows her eyes, grinning as she tilts her head. “Why do you want to know?”

Aether levels her with a flat look. It’s a bit strange with you in the middle of them. “Because I want to read the story.”

“We never hear you talk about anything romantic, Y/N!” Paimon says, bits of fish spewing out while she talks. Aether reprimands her. “Whenever Paimon sees you, you’re always working!”

Is that how everyone sees you? “Are you saying you thought I was too boring to experience love?”

Paimon decides to tune out the conversation once again, wolfing down her next plate of food.

Aether’s still looking at you, a smile on his face. No, perhaps a slight smirk would be more accurate. You can feel yourself melting. Perhaps those people were right when they called Aether ‘terrifying’—the swarm of butterflies his gaze is leaving you is downright frightening.

He tilts his head, waiting.

You stammer, “W-Well, the main character’s nothing special. It’s like those things where they make the hero really likable, really…”

Yoimiya butts in, “You just have a thing for guys who have defeated dragons and faced gods head-on. Nothing special.”

“Yoimiya!”

Aether throws his head back laughing.

Yoimiya settles in her seat, looking mildly surprised. “I’ve never seen you this expressive, Traveler.”

You throw Yoimiya a warning look. Had it been anyone else, you would’ve brushed that off, but Yoimiya is clearly hinting at what started your crisis in the first place.

Paimon chugs her water like a madman dying of thirst. “He’s always like that whenever we’re around Y/N. Paimon already told him to stop bullying Y/N!”

Right. Bullying. If only the shared glances and longing stares were bullying. If only Aether lingering in your thoughts was because he’s bullying you, and not because you’re developing a massive crush on him. That would’ve been easier to explain and believe.

“Bullying?” Aether echoes in confusion.

“Flirting might be the more appropriate word for it, Paimon,” Yoimiya corrects with a gleeful grin. “So romantic. Reserving your lovesick and longing smiles to Y/N only,” she sings. “No wonder why you’ve been so happy recently.”

“Yoimiya,” you seethe, though it’s mostly desperate, humiliated. It seems that her name is your only vocabulary this evening.

Aether laughs, his eyes crinkling as he shares your gaze. And if you let yourself believe Yoimiya’s words, you might even call it fond. “You can’t blame me if I can’t help it. Surely that novel taught you what it’s like to have a crush on someone, right, Y/N?”

A/N i love aether so much im sobbing hope u liked reading!!1 bc i cried while writing this!!!! also thank u earthtooz for proofreading i love u big sibling.

[luveline]

maybe could I ask for miguel seeing spider girl with a bruise on her face and getting protective (when in reality it was just over something dumb) thank youuuu <3

ty for requesting! Finding his Spider-Girl is never easy. He’ll assume you’re wearing your watch and find it forgotten in his room, or under a chair in the cafeteria, or twitching and loosing smoke at the bottom of a garbage can, nowhere near your actual location. 

Today, he checks all your usual haunts and decides he might break up with you if you don’t start leaving him clues as to where to find you. Not that’s he’s your boyfriend (of course he’s your boyfriend), but he’d put an end to your… relationship, should he have to. 

He’s getting annoyed at his own thoughts and, by extension, you, when he finally finds you lying casually across a couch in a common area otherwise abandoned. You’ve projected your phone game onto the ceiling, music leaking from the cans of your headphones, with your socked feet dangling over an armrest, a drinks bottle by your head.

“Where are your shoes?” he asks loudly. 

You glance his way. “Hi, Miguel.” 

“Are you walking around without shoes?” He bends one way and another looking for them. They’re on their sides under the coffee table among a legion of dust bunnies. 

“What?” 

“I said–” He hates playing this game. “Take the headphones off, and then we’ll talk to each other.” 

“I’m gonna take my headphones off,” you say. 

He rolls his eyes. You stop projecting your phone, snapping it closed on your chest and struggling up into a sitting position, legs retrieved from over the armrest and crossed beneath you as your headphones slip around your neck. You’re in sportswear with a jacket too big for you over your shoulders, cute cargo pants he adores and potentially would love to take off of you, and he’s so busy noticing your uncharacteristic outfit that he misses the huge bruise on your face, the yellow, red and purple like a stain under your eye 

He has amazing vision. “What happened?” he asks, practically diving for you, bending down to take your unbruised cheek into his hand. “Who did that to you?” 

You haven’t been on a strike mission in weeks, and your combat training is all but done. 

Someone laid their hands on you. 

Miguel goes into a fugue. “Sweetheart,” he says, his voice flat, almost cold, “who hit you?” 

“Miguel, I’m a superhero–”

“I don’t remember the last time you went home,” he says, immediately brushing this possibility away. You don’t fight crime in your dimension, Spider-Girl a poorly received vigilante. “You haven’t been in training, I didn’t send you on the strike this morning because you didn’t want to go.” He touched you with extreme care, thumb barely pressed to your skin, but he talks with precision. “So I’ll ask again. Who hit you, cariño?” 

“Miguel,” you laugh, pushing his hand off of your face to wrap your arms around his neck. He covers your back instinctively. “I’m fine, what’s wrong with you? You’re acting all macho.” 

“You aren’t answering my question.” 

“Oh my gosh.” You cling to him. He could stand up at full height and be sure you’d come up with him. He’d quite enjoy that, to his secret pleasure, you with your legs wrapped around his hips. You don’t like being carried is the kicker. “Miguel, I hit myself. My hand got caught when I was taking the suit off and I hit myself in the eye, it’s fine.” 

Your back is soft. His hand less so as he rubs your back in surprised, short lines, up and down and up again. “Idiot,” he says, his voice turning to rasp at such a low volume. 

It must hurt, even if you did it to yourself. Miguel peels you away from his neck and stations you gently on the couch. “I’ll take you to the medbay,” he promises, giving your shoulder a little push. “What’s wrong with you? You hit yourself? You’re like a kid.” 

“I am not! It happens to everybody.” 

“Never happens to me.” 

“You cheat. Your suit flashes on and off.”

“It does not.” Miguel decides he is going to carry you whether you like it or not. You aren’t wearing shoes —he doesn’t need you getting any more injured. “Alright, hold on to your phone, my brat.” 

“Your what?” you laugh, though any humour you hold is lost when Miguel grabs you up with ease and cradles your full grown body to his chest in a princess carry, “Miguel! Stop, put me down! You know I hate this.” 

“You might hurt yourself again. I’m taking necessary precautions.” 

You sigh and drop your face into his shoulder. “Well, I guess I’ll allow it. You got so, so mad thinking somebody hit me, I think you deserve to carry me around like a large cantaloupe.” You draw a heart into the base of his neck. “Will you grab my shoes?” 

“I’ll circle back.” 

“Thank you. How’d you even find me? I was hoping I’d be healed the next time we saw one another.”

“At bedtime, you mean?” 

He resists the urge to kiss your cheek, or tell you how he’d found you (mindless combing of the building, seduction of your most likely location, and dumb luck). You don’t need the ammunition. 

[azsazz]

Hide

Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1,217

Notes: Love this tbh!!!

_________________________________________

You feel him before you see him. 

You can feel him all the time; even when he’s courts away there’s that connection humming blissfully in your chest. It’s comforting, to know that your mate is alive and well, that there’s a surety you’re aware of him and how he’s feeling. When he’s content in a warm bath with a glass of fae wine smoothing the creases between his brows. When he’s squaring his shoulders and surging with pride for the sparring with his brothers he has won again. When he sends a warmth so suggestive down the bond late at night when he’s sure there’s no one around. The very one you feel deep in your soul, that makes your core melt like his fire-filled hands are working your center. The one that leaves no questions whether he loves you or not.

Of course, there are times when you can’t feel him. When he’s blocked the bond from ever reaching you when his father brings his wrath down on him like he’s young and defenseless again. He always hides that from you. When the distance from you becomes too great and there is no choice for him but to block the bond because he knows that there is nothing that can be done in the current state of Pythian. No way for the both of you to be together, no way for him to seize you from the control of your older brother. If you were lesser than the High Lord’s younger sister, he’d sneak across the border lines on a whisper of autumn winds and find his way into your bed. 

It’s been ages since you’ve seen your mate, since you looked into those warm russet eyes, ran your fingers through his auburn hair, counted the freckles dotting the pale skin of his cheeks. 

Your breath catches in your throat as Eris is escorted into Rhysand’s office and your eyes meet. 

A sense of relief floods the bond as his eyes move over you in an intentional sweep that to everyone else in the room looks like he’s wondering why you’re here, but you know your mate is assessing you for injuries even though you’re nowhere near injured. Not even a scratch or a bruise on your perfect skin. 

No one notices the slight falter in his steps. All Eris wants to do is rush over to you and sweep you in his arms and press you into his chest, feel your heartbeat against his own. He wants to taste that smile you’re trying all too hard to hide from him, move his mouth across the color dusting your cheeks to feel his fire dancing underneath your skin. He wants to strip you bare, devour every inch of you. He wants to hear you scream his name, whisper that you love him, cry for him to take you away, admit that you never want to be apart—

But he’s not even allowed to sit next to you. 

Across the large table is as close as he allows himself to get. It’s not close enough that he can accidentally kick his foot against yours and he doesn’t like that you’ve been meticulously placed on the opposite side so he can’t even walk past you and brush his fingers against your hand or the back of your neck. 

His bond keens in his chest and he tries his best to stifle it, ripping his gaze away when he’s drawn to you like this. 

Eris is flanked by Cassian and Azriel, and even though he feels as if he’s on the best terms he’s ever been with the Night Court, this feels like a set up. A trap.

You allow a caress of reassurance down the bond to your mate. Your brother doesn’t know, no one in this room, in this court, in this continent knows of your connection to the heir of Autumn. Eris’ throat works as he swallows, and you turn your attention away from him as he sends a feeling of understanding back to you.

“Eris.” Rhysand gestures to the autumn born royal to sit. He’s lounging in his own chair at the circular table, an arrogance to him that irks you. It’s all a front, of course, one Rhysand has carefully crafted to perfection from centuries as High Lord. You don’t like that it’s directed at your mate, and you’re feeling more protective than ever, flickering a glance over to the males sitting on either side of your mate, as if they’re caging him in.

Not unusual for an untrusted male in your court. You’ve seen your brother pull this same maneuver more times than you can count, but there’s a charge to the air that feels different. Your spine lengthens and you flare a warning down the bond, praying your mate doesn’t react but readies himself. 

He follows your heed with unfaltering trust. Eris’ fingers flex where they’re resting on the arms of his chair, and you watch him unhinge his jaw only slightly, so that he doesn’t flex it. The scalding look on his face stays directed at your brother.

Your lips part and the muscles of your legs tense, ready to jump out of your chair in the next moment, when you catch Rhysand’s smirk, the one that spells trouble. His violet eyes are dark with the promise of violence and his shadows are quick to strike, tendrils of nightmares winding their way around Eris’ wrists, trapping him to the very chair he was offered.

Eris shifts his hands in a nonchalant motion, testing out the strength of the sentient darkness Rhysand uses to hold him hostage. They don’t give an inch and he wonders for a fleeting moment if he can burn them away. If your worry wasn’t heavy in his chest, the beat of your heart spiking double, he would try it. But with you here, he’s not willing to try anything that could potentially put you in danger.

Plus, a part of him wants to hear what Rhysand has to say. The other part of him wants to get you the fuck out of here.

The High Lord of the Night Court plants his hands on the table. High Lord, because there is no ounce of your brother in his eyes and actions right now.

The chair scraping against the floor as Rhysand stands is the only sound in the room. Cassian nor Azriel moves from their seats, but they pin your mate with the menacing kind of looks that mirror Rhysands, ready to follow his every demand, no questions asked. 

“Eris,” Rhysand’s voice is not its usual purr as he leans forward. A strand of hair falling across his forehead is the only sign of the crack in his facade, the utter rage filling the room with an unbearable tautness.

The words are sticky in your throat. You can’t move, can’t seem to take your eyes off of your brother as your heart splinters in your chest like it’s his own shadows tearing you to strips. You’re only able to manage a quiet, “Don’t,” that’s filled with too much desperation.

Rhysand ignores your words. He hisses at Eris, dark and low. “How long have you and my sister been keeping this little mating bond of yours a secret?”

[abbyromanoff]

Hi 👋🏻 could u write gpWanda x reader x gpNatasha where Wanda is r gf and she doesn't know how to fuck reader properly so she ask Nat for help and N fuck r while W is watching?

I'm sorry if there are mistakes, english isn't my first language

ACQUAINTED

PAIRINGS: Wanda x reader, Wanda x Nat, Nat x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,697

WARNINGS: therapist/patient relationship, perv!Nat, nat and Wanda have dicks, subby!Wanda, Miss (N), threesome, exhibition, voyerisum, degrading, praising, breeding, therapist!Natasha, pet names, smut (obvi), pining, cunnilingus, dry-humping (kinda), bottom!R, top!Nat, Nat treating R like an object,

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Wanda sat on the couch with Natasha in front of her, sitting at her desk with a notebook in hand. The walls were painted a soothing gray, only adorning a few pieces of artwork. She had been seeing Ms. Romanoff for close to a year now after you suggested the idea of therapy, already having one of your own.

“I don’t know, it’s just hard I guess. I mean, I love them so much and I see myself having a future with them, but-” She paused, rubbing the back of her neck and adjusting her potion. Nat hummed, waiting for a response but speaking up when receiving none.

“But, what?”

“I- I want to- well, we don’t really-” She didn’t know why she was so nervous all of the sudden, she had been able to tell Nat almost everything but this seemed to be different.

“Trust me, I’ve most likely heard much worse here, whatever you say is confidential and free of judgment. Just take your time.” Wanda sighed and nodded, trying to figure out the words in her mind before speaking.

“I guess I just want to spice things up, you know? And don’t get me wrong, the sex is great but- but they were the first person I’ve ever done it with. I’m just scared they’re not satisfied and it worries me to think that I’m nowhere near as good as their past boyfriends or girlfriends.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t anything serious, but it was to her. She was a giving person, all she wanted was for you to be happy and well-pleasured, she wanted to impress you. But there was nothing to show off with, she had no skills in that aspect, that’s what she thought at least.

“Okay, that’s understandable.” Nat started. “Have you ever tried, say, having a conversation with them about this? I know you’re not great with communication but maybe just asking them what are some of the things they like or maybe even expressing your worries, I’m sure they’d listen.” She knew you would, but the idea of bringing such a thing up felt uncomfortable. She didn’t hate the thought of sex, but she hated the thought of talking about it. It felt like watching a sex scene on the television with your parents right next to you.

“I know they’d listen, I just don’t know how to, like, bring it up.” Wanda watched as Natasha moved her pen gently against the piece of paper, writing something down that she wished she could see.

“Alright, well, what if you invited them to a session, possibly our next one? We can bring up our discussion and your worries and maybe it could help ease them.” She spoke with such gentleness that it always made Wanda even more nervous. You had picked up on the way she’d always come home with a blush and a small smile after her appointments, but you just assumed she was happy to see you. And she was, but that wasn’t the full reason for her expressions.

“So it would be like couple’s therapy?”

“Yes, pretty much. I’ll have you two both share your sides and your feelings and we go from there.” Wanda could do that, she hoped so.

The one hour ended in what seemed like a few minutes as Nat said her goodbye’s to the woman, watching her leave as her eyes trailed down to her ass. The jeans fit her ass perfectly, it was impossible to stop the biting of her lip and the long sigh.

Truth be told, she had been planning this moment for too long. She remembered when she first ever saw you, Wanda showed her the picture she kept in her wallet of the two of you holding hands that were pointed to the camera with your lips attached in a sweet kiss. Before, she had been slightly upset when finding out that her client had a partner, even with the knowledge that it would ruin her career if she did anything. But then there was you, she didn’t expect you to be so beautiful.

The moment her last client left she went searching through your accounts, using your name to find anything on you. She was embarrassed to say she had stroked herself to multiple orgasms while scrolling through both you and your girlfriend’s photos. She was beyond ecstatic about next week’s visit, she could only hope you’d agree to go.

Luckily, you did. It took a little bit of convincing, when Wanda brought the idea up to you, you were frightened that you did something to upset her, but she quickly rushed that thought out of your mind. She didn’t tell you what exactly it was for, although you assumed it would be nice. You knew Natasha was an amazing therapist, she helped Wanda with all the things you struggled to help with. You were only human, and you didn’t have a degree like Nat, but your moral support meant just as much to your girlfriend.

“Wanda?” Her head shot up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, she quickly grabbed your hand and the two of you walked into her office. She closed the door behind you, her eyes catching a quick glimpse of your body. You were even better than the photos, she couldn’t wait.

“And you must be Y/N if I’m correct.” You nodded and shook her hand, giving her a warm smile as you removed your coat. Wanda did the same, grabbing yours and placing it on the coat rack in the corner of the room.

“So, I’m assuming Wanda has told you why you’re here?” When she looked down at her knees where her fingers rested, nervously picking the skin off of them, she knew her answer.

“Uh, not really. I was a little bit hesitant about this, but she told me there was nothing to worry about, so I’m hoping it’s nothing bad.” You shied away from Nat’s eyes, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks at the woman’s clear attractiveness. You didn’t exactly know what her therapist looked like, but now you wished you had done your research beforehand. She was stunning, breathtaking.

“Well, I can assure you that you have done nothing wrong, honey, there are just some topics we’d like to approach if that’s alright with you.” You nodded and interlaced your hand with Wanda’s, giving a small squeeze to assure her you weren’t upset. She had been planning what to bring up since the moment she left last week, but it seemingly all vanished by now.

“Do you have a therapist or a counselor of your own, Y/N?” It started off with simple questions, ones that you’d expect. That was until she started asking about your relationship and prior ones too. You shifted in your seat as she continued, feeling the immense pressure with both of their eyes on you.

“Now, tell me, Y/N, do you feel satisfied with Wanda?”

“Of course, I do. She’s such a great woman and I can really feel her love, I haven’t ever had someone like her.” You could see Wanda smiling next to you and you joined her. You truly loved this woman more than anything, you wanted to marry her someday and you hoped she thought the same.

“And sexually? Do you feel sexually satisfied with Wanda?” You nearly choked on your spit from her words, nervously chuckling in hopes to redeem yourself. She noticed your expressions and tried reassuring you, holding back as best she could when she patted your knee.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, trust me. It’s normal to feel a sense of discomfort in these situations, but I promise that everything here stays confidential.” Her voice was able to soothe you and calm your nerves.

“Uhm, I’d say so, yeah. Obviously, there are some…things I’d like to try, but we haven’t approached that.” She nodded, as if she wanted you to go on. You didn’t know what to say, your words were stuck in your throat. You were experienced with the topic, but it wasn’t one you openly shared or talked about with others.

“Would you say your sex life is more vanilla than you want it to be?” You loved Wanda, you really did, but she wasn’t the greatest when it came to your intimate moments. You could feel her love through it, but you wanted to see her rougher side, you knew she was holding back on you.

“To be honest, yeah. I kind of like things to be a bit more..kinky, you know?” You could see the redness on Wanda’s cheeks and the tip of her ears as she shuffled her feet around. You felt sorry for making her embarrassed, but that’s why she brought you here in the first place.

“What would you consider kinky, darling?” Her pet name had your lips quivering ever-so-slightly before you came up with a response.

“I guess I just wish she was a bit more rough with me. And don’t get me wrong, I love that I can really feel her care for me but sometimes I just want her to, like, use me.” Nat scooted her desk chair closer to you two, placing her hand on your thigh softly. Wanda was still silent, she was probably too scared to speak up.

“You want to be used, Y/N?” You nodded slowly, feeling your eyes drift to her lips. You felt so dirty looking at her the way you did your girlfriend, but you also knew she was doing the same.

“Hm, who knew such a sweet little thing could be so dirty?” You could feel her hand rubbing small circles on your covered skin, her eyes staring deeply into yours. She trailed them over your body, taking all of you in.

“Does this turn you on, honey?” You nodded once again. “Yeah? Me touching you while your girlfriend watches, that makes you wet?” You gulped down your arousal as you felt her thumb teasing your clit through the fabric, your legs instinctively opening for more.

“Kiss them for me, Wanda; act like I’m not even here.” You looked in the brunette's direction, watching as she snuck glances between the two of you. She placed one hand on your cheek and the other on your lower back as you leaned in for her lips to meet yours. You moaned into the kiss as Nat rid you of your pants, dragging her fingers across your panties and smiling at the wet patch adorning them. The noise allowed Wanda’s tongue to slip into your mouth, the intrusion causing you to groan in pleasure.

Your fingers ran through Nat’s hair, pleading her to come closer. You could feel her hot breath teasing your slit as she slid your panties to the side, small kisses being pressed against your clit.

“Please, Ms. Romanoff.” You pulled away from Wanda to catch your breath, your head resting on her shoulder. Your eyes landed on her crotch as you noticed her palming herself, her hips bucking into her hand.

“You’re such a good girl. Say, why don’t we give Wanda a little lesson, okay?” She smiled when you complied without a thought in your mind. She stood up, guiding you to join her as she removed your shirt, grinning when she took notice of your lacey bra.

“It’s Wanda’s favorite, I was going to surprise her tonight.” She huffed out a chuckle and reached around behind you to unclasp it, shuddering as it fell and you were left in nothing but your panties.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long, baby. Now I can finally get my hands on you.” She had been so desperate to be alone in her office with the both of you, she wanted nothing more than to mark you both as hers.

She led you to her desk, her kisses trailing from your neck to your chest where her lips wrapped around your hardened bud. Your back was met with the wooden table as she lifted you to sit on it, her palms lingering on your soft thighs after she guided your last piece of clothing off of you. She parted them, dropping to her knees in front of you and staring up at you with lust in her eyes.

“Watch closely, Wanda.” You looked over to the woman at the mention of her name, biting your lip with hunger as you noticed her unbuttoned pants and her hand hidden inside of her boxers. She shuddered when you cupped your breast, using Nat’s saliva to help create a small rhythm.

Nat blew a teasing breath onto your pulsing clit before leaning in, taking the bud into her mouth. She sucked delicately, soaking in your moans and twitches. She was too engrossed in your taste to take notice of her growing erection in her pants.

“Oh, you look so pretty on your knees for me, Miss.” It was clear that she was still the one in charge, but her need for you was so great, she couldn’t care if she seemed weak. Wanda, while feeling a pang of jealousy, couldn’t deny the heat that was growing in her stomach. She felt as though she would burst any second, but she was trying to hold back. Her thumb would occasionally brush over her tip, causing her eyes to squeeze shut.

“Look at me, Wands; watch me.” She pried her eyelids open willingly, nearly whining when she saw you wrap your legs around her therapist’s head. You grinded into her face as her tongue tortured your hole, diving in and out repeatedly. She groped your ass in order to push you closer into her, her nose poking at your clit.

“Fuck! Fuck- right there, yes!” You covered your mouth with your hand in order to silence yourself, becoming ashamed of how loud you were. Neither of them were complaining though, they thrived off of your noises; it brought satisfaction knowing that they were the reason you were in such a deep state of pleasure.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum.” Nat smirked into your cunt as you were brought over the edge, your head falling back and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your silent screams filled the room as Nat continued to lap up your juices, Wanda watching with the wish that she was the one tasting you. You were addicting, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. Every sway of your hips, every lick of your lips, every noise, and every word that left that sweet mouth was so alluring.

You were suddenly pushed to lie down, feeling the lumber underneath you bruise your back. You leaned up on your elbows to admire the woman as she undressed herself, running her hand through her short hair once as to fix what you tugged.

“Tell me, love, have you ever heard of breeding?” You nodded, receiving a slap to your cheek. Wanda widened her eyes at both the words and the rough contact, is this what you meant? Is this how you wanted her to treat you, like you were some no-good slut?

“Yes, Miss, I have.” She hummed, guiding her tip through your slit and gathering the wetness as a replacement for lube.

“When was the last time you ever pleaded to milk Wanda dry, hm? Beg her to slap you ‘till your skin turned black and blue? Or, better yet, when was the last time you got on your knees and asked her in that sweet little tone of yours to treat you like the dirty whore you are?” Your chest rose and fell with every breath you took, each one not feeling like it was enough.

“Never.” You shook your head as you answered, your eyes not being able to meet hers. She gripped your chin roughly, pulling you in close so her nose was practically touching yours.

“What was that?” She asked again, even if she had already heard you well enough.

“Never.” You repeated, this time louder. She clicked her tongue and shot you a disapproving glance.

“Mm, there’s always two sides to the matter. Here Wanda was not knowing what to do because you couldn’t communicate, do you think that’s fair on her?” The way she spoke, the light rasp to her voice was what caused the wetness already coating your thighs to increase.

“N-no, Miss.” She turned your head to face Wanda and she blushed in the moment you caught her. You could notice the stains now coating her boxers and the shameful look on her face; she had peaked with you. You didn’t know how you didn’t hear her, she was usually the louder one of you both. But you guessed that you were too far into your orgasm to care for anything else.

“Apologize to your girlfriend, Y/N, and tell her how sorry you are.”

“I’m sorry, Wanda, I’m sorry for not- not talking about my needs and wants when I should’ve. I’m sorry.” You stuttered over your words as you felt Nat’s cock prodding at your hole, her tip breaking way and creating a small stretch.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry too.” She spoke up, and for the first time this entire session, you were able to hear her voice. It was coated thickly with her Sokovian accent seeing as she had just moved here nearly eight months ago. You hoped it would never go away, no matter how long she lived in this country.

“See? You’re both already doing such a good job.” You both smiled at the praises, seeming to fish for them from the woman at bay. You sent a small ‘I love you’ to Wanda from across the room, although it was only mouthed out. Nat grabbed hold of your waist, pulling you towards her and causing her length to fill you up almost entirely. You gasped at the intrusion, crying out in pain as you clawed at the desk.

She continued to slowly lead you further, moaning to herself as your warmth clamped around her. Your tears only brought more delight to her heart, she could only grin when seeing them.

“You’ve been begging for Wanda to use you yet you can barely even take me? Aren’t you just a pathetic fucking slut.” Her fingertips ran along your face, her thumb rubbing gentle circles as a faux sense of comfort. She then brought them down to your neck, wrapping her palm around it and cutting off your airways. The only thing you could manage to get out were choked sobs and moans. The burning discomfort slowly eased into one of satisfaction as Nat slowly thrusted her hips into you, the sounds of skin clapping together ringing through all three of you guys’ ears.

“Did you know your girl likes to be choked, Wanda?”

“N-no, ma’am.” She chuckled at the title given to her. Her breasts bounced with every movement of her hips, her cock hitting your womb. There was a small yet noticeable bulge carved out on your stomach making her groan, she was so big compared to you.

“Hm, maybe in our next session we can teach Y/N a lesson too, what do you say?” She didn’t need another opinion to decide her answer, it was final. It wasn’t just the brunette at fault, you were required to voice your wants too, even if she’d have to force it out of you.

“Please-” You managed to get out when her hand removed itself from your bruising neck and found a spot on your waist, pressing down harder than before. She was practically resting her weight on top of you, causing the bone to struggle in holding her up.

“Shut your dirty fucking mouth, I don’t want to hear another word from you.” You were close, so close, and so was she. She was forcing her body to hold back, ensuring that you were to finish first.

Wanda’s erection only grew after her orgasm, her greed making her yearn for another. You were the only one who had ever been able to make her cum, she assumed there was no better. Shyly, she walked forward, her soiled clothing still masking her bottom half. She gave Nat a look, asking for permission to which she was granted.

“Don’t ask, sweetheart, force it.” She was so used to constantly asking if it was okay to do something to your body, after all, it wasn’t her choice. Every time you’d say yes, but there was always a nagging fear that you’d not want it and she had forgotten to ask. The thought made her sick, who would ever think to do such a thing?

“They want it, Wanda. Just rub yourself against them- perfect, just like that.” She praised when Wanda held you by the back of your neck and rutted her bulge against your face, the fabric rubbing against her hard length. She whimpered when your hand came up to rub her balls, your mouth peppering kisses over her cock.

“You close, baby?” You didn’t know who she was asking, but you both agreed. You continued to gently suckle while wishing you were able to truly feel her instead of the wrinkles in her trousers.

“Ah! S-shit, cum with me.” You followed her orders and let the coil in your stomach snap as you soaked her cock, feeling her release shoot deep inside of you.

You nuzzled against Wanda as you felt her twitching, only to notice a wet patch forming on her pants. She had leaked through her underwear while itching for more, the knowledge only fueled your pride.

You mewled as Nat pulled out of you, watching as the cum dripped down your cunt, some landing on the desk while other droplets fell to the floor. She didn’t bother looking for her clothes, instead pulling the younger girl in for a kiss before doing the same with you. It was passionate, both kisses were. You could sense the longing and the emotions in it that she tried to mask, only making you chase after her lips for more once she leaned back.

“Shall we plan your next appointment then?”

[wolvesandshine]

Sirius had never really liked Barty. If he could he wouldn’t be here right now. But well, Barty was one of the few people who was close to Regulus, and in this case the only one who could help. Desperate times call for desperate measure and such.

Barty looks up from his work, and upon seeing Sirius he smirks. “Trying to see the big bad Slytherin in their natural habitat?”

Sirius rolls his eyes, not raising to the bait. “I need help.”

Barty simply raises an eyebrow. “And I would help you why?”

“How did you start dating Reggie?”

Barty stared at him for a moment, processing the words before he laughs. “I always knew you were mad but I didn’t realise you were into the whole Black family incest too.”

Sirius barely restrains himself from strangling the boy in front of him. “It’s not for me. It’s for -“ Sirius trails off unwilling to out his best friend.

Barty simply rolls his eyes. “It’s okay you can say Potters name.” At Sirius’s shocked expression Barty looks up and sighs. “You’re as bad as Reg. Congrats on being the second last person in the whole school to know that they’re in love with each other and idiots.”

Sirius splutters indignantly. “Excuse me for hoping that it would be a passing infatuation.”

Barty gives him a look and yeah, okay, fair. They were talking about James I already planned our wedding the moment I saw you Potter and Regulus I’d kill someone just to see you smile Black.

“Well why haven’t any of you done anything about it?”

“We tried. Clearly, it was less than successful.”

“Can’t you just tell James what you did to get with Reggie?”

Barty laughs derisively. “I did nothing. He was the one who walked up to me and asked if I wanted to fuck.”

Barty laughs at Sirius’s disgusted expression. “You asked Black.”

“I don’t even know why I came here.”

Barty shrugs. “Beats me. At the rate it’s going I’ll probably die before they get together.”

Sirius thinks back on the way James and Regulus have been dancing around each other for months and - Yeah, someone needed to pull their heads out of their asses. He swears he and Remus were nowhere near this bad.

It says something about the way his life is going that he’s agreeing with Crouch.

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | iv.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A smile blooms on your lips as you watch Tilly play hopscotch with her friend near the street. Snow’s melted enough this morning to be able to draw chalk patterns on the cobblestones. The young girl woke up excited to enjoy the day. And while you’re nowhere as thrilled, seeing the joy and life return to her gaze is more than enough for you. 

The little girls’ buoyant laughs fill the street and you let yourself bask in the moment. It’s rare that you get time to yourself lately.  Your shifts at the factory take up most of your time. And you’ve been spreading yourself thin, hoping to keep concerns at bay by remaining busy. White wisps surround you as you blow a long breath. You readjust your scarf and rub your gloved hands. Cold air seeps through the tiny holes in your gloves. You’ll need to stay after hours on your next shift to mend them. Perhaps you could even purloin enough throwaway remnants of wool to make Tilly a new pair. She’ll soon outgrow hers.

Besides, her health might have improved for now, but you never stop worrying about her catching another cold, one that might be deadlier than the last.

Lost in contemplation, you draw a sharp breath when an object drops from the sky onto your lap. Your eyes widen as you lower them. A pair of knitted gloves rests in your lap. They’re clearly brand new and the wool quality is unlike anything you’ve ever laid eyes on. You can tell from the thickness and vibrancy of the twining threads. You’re tempted to give it a brush with your fingertips, revel in the warmth oozing from the fabric. But you refrain.

“I don’t want that,” you snap, whipping your head up.

A towering, lanky frame clad in the peacekeeper’s signature blue uniform fills your sight. 

You toss the gloves at him and he catches them with a deep sigh. He sits near you on the steps. The hairs on the back of your neck bristle with his proximity, his broad shoulder grazing yours as he turns to study you.

You shiver as his gaze runs along your frame. You don’t look at him. You don’t want to. You’ve done your best to forget about him these last few weeks, even if his ever-lurking presence is hard to ignore. Whatever you do, wherever you are, he’s never hovering too far away.

He seizes your hands, forcefully slipping the gloves on your frostbitten fingers.

“Come on, you’re freezing,” he says. Your lips tighten as you meekly comply. Arguing with the peacekeeper has never worked in your favor. So why even try? You let him put the gloves on you, cursing the comfort you feel when the warm fabric hugs your fingers. An absent thought drifts in your head as you admire the wool. You never owned anything this nice. The quality evokes the clothes that usually head straight to the Capitol.

All the nice things go to them first while District dwellers beg for scraps.

Coriolanus leans back, his large hands spreading over his knees. His stance is far too relaxed for your taste and you shrink further on your side of the narrow stairs. 

As his icy blue orbs settle on your cousin and her friend, you tense.

“She seems to be doing well. I’m assuming the medicine helped,” he notes, smugness oozing from his words. His attention scorches your skin as you pointedly evade his stare. You loathe the satisfaction he draws from this. More leverage to use against you. More opportunities to make you feel small, helpless.

“What are you doing here?” you curtly ask.

His small chuckle makes your stomach coil.

“Is this any way to greet a friend?” His tone becomes light, playful. “Especially one that comes bearing gifts?” 

Your brows knit. “Friends…”

Hot air tickles your earshell as he bends over you, whispering, “The closest of friends.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He grabs your chin, angling your face towards his. A shuddered breath leaves your lips as stark blue eyes drink you in. “Really birdie, not even a smile? Come now.”

You nudge a tremulous smile onto your lips. 

His thumb grazes your trembling bottom lip as his mouth twists skyward. “Better,’ he praises quietly.

A winning glint sways in his eyes and your stomach lurches. 

“Hi!”

Tilly’s cheerful voice shatters the moment. Coriolanus releases you and relief billows inside your chest. 

He beams at the young girl, replying in a similar tone, “Hi.”

Your young cousin bounces on her feet, excitement rounding her gaze as she admires  the peacekeeper. Your frown deepens at the exchange.

“I’m Tilly,” she announces solemnly, offering her hand to shake.

Coriolanus laughs as he takes it, mirth lighting up his handsome face.

“I know. I know all about you.” A mix of shock and awe decorates the young girl’s features with that information, as if the peacekeeper knowing anything about her was the most extraordinary thing in the world. “I’m a friend of your cousin. My name’s Coriolanus.”

“Coriolanus,” she repeats, as if mesmerized by the sound of his name alone.

“Here. I have something for you,” he says. 

He reaches inside the pocket of his uniform and pulls out a bag. Your cousin jumps, her eyes sparkling with joy when he hands it to her.

“Candy!” she exclaims. 

Your face pinches at the sight of the colorful sweets in the bag. These aren’t easy to acquire. 

“Tilly…”

“What?”

The young girl’s expression is dejected as she looks at you, almost like she can sense your disapproval and is preparing to return the gift. Your shoulder sag. You don’t have it in you to refuse her this small sliver of delight. 

You shake your head and smile.

“Nothing.” You hunker in front of her. “We should go back inside.”

“But I want to play…” she pouts.

“You have chores. And Coriolanus…” Your eyes lift to him. Amusement hasn’t left his expression. “is very busy.”

He doesn’t say anything as you shove your cousin inside the house. He lingers by the door and you fidget beneath his heavy stare.

“I’m guessing you have…somewhere to be.”

His gaze drags over you as a small smile dances on his lips.

“Yes, I hear I’m very busy,” he teases. Shock fills you when he leans to brush his mouth against your cool cheek. “See you soon, birdie,” he mumbles, his deep voice making your stomach flutter.

You’re relieved when he finally leaves. You chase away the peculiar sensation his closeness sparked as you shut the door.

You don’t get time to collect yourself,  your little cousin immediately asking, “Is he your boyfriend?”

The pitch of your voice goes high with shock. 

“What? Are you crazy?”

Tilly frowns. “But I saw him kissing you.”

Heat nestles in your cheeks. Maybe from an outsider’s perspective, Coriolanus’ closeness could be misinterpreted, the peacekeeper perpetually crowding your space despite your reluctance. Still, you can’t believe it’s what the little girl thinks from looking at the two of you. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Every fiber of your being burns with hatred for him.

“No, we weren’t. It wasn’t…” you sputter, your embarrassment cresting as the excitement in your cousin’s eyes doesn’t dwindle. “He wasn’t kissing me. We were just talking.”

“About girlfriend and boyfriend stuff,” she insists. 

You sigh. You approach her and grip her shoulders. 

“Tilly, I need you to promise me something.”

She blinks up at you. “Yes?”

You crouch before her so you’re at eye level. 

“You need to stay away from peacekeepers.”

She purses her mouth, glancing down at the bag of candy.

“Yes, but Coriolanus…he was nice to me.”

Your stomach sinks.

“Well, Coriolanus isn’t like the others.”

She nods in understanding. You’re glad she doesn’t ask any further questions. You wouldn’t know how to begin to explain your relationship with him.

Not in any way that makes sense at least.

For a fortnight, you don’t see much of him. You bask in the tranquility of your usual routine, going back and forth, from home to work, and preparing to celebrate the end of the year with your cousin. It won’t be lavish, of course, but you’re hoping to save up enough from your wages to get Tilly a teddy and perhaps even a toy this year.

While most of your family has passed away, you want to cherish the things you still have. Perhaps you can even create new memories for your cousin, happier memories. She has been bedridden for months now and it’ll be the first holiday she’ll get to truly enjoy as a healthy, normal child. 

He appears again as you’re working your usual shift, casually switching places with another guard. While you pointedly avoid looking in his direction, you feel the weight of his unwavering eyes, watching you as always.

Still, you diligently weave the silk on your loom. Your attention cannot stray. One mistake and the fabric will be ruined. 

“Your shadow’s there,” Yara notes from her station right next to yours.

Your eyes flick upward briefly as you nod.

“Yeah.”

Silence hangs in the air a while before your friend speaks again.

“It doesn’t seem to bother you that much.”

You shrug. “I’m getting used to it.”

Her eyes land on the gloves peeking from the pocket of your long skirt.

“By the way, I meant to ask…Is that from him?”

You hesitate a little before begrudgingly admitting, “Yes.”

She moves her head in acknowledgement. 

“I see, gifts now.”

Stepping on the treadle to slow down the motion of your loom, you snap your head to Yara.

There was something in her tone just then, an implication you didn’t like.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She shakes her head and scoffs, “It’s just interesting, is all.”

“My hands were cold,” you defend.

“You could have thrown them away. I made my own. It’s what we do every year. Make our own.” Her gaze locks with yours. Licking her lips, she seems to mull over something before she asks,  “Is there something going on between you two? I mean other than what I already know.”

Your face grows hot.

“There is nothing.”

She studies you for a few minutes before turning her focus back to her loom.

“Right,” she says.

Your annoyance mounting, you give the treadle a vigorous push and start weaving faster.

You let your friend’s prickly comments fade somewhere in the back of your mind. You have no desire to explore this dangerous line of thought any further. 

There is indeed nothing going on between you and the peacekeeper. You keep repeating it to yourself as your fingers assemble the threads as if your life depended on it. 

It helps you ignore the way your blood races in your veins.

Relief fills you when your shift ends. Tension built in your body and firmly remained since Yara began questioning you. You can still feel it in the stiffness in your limbs, the heaviness in your chest. You make haste as you dart across the hallways, eager to return home.

Your escape is halted by a pair of strong arms pulling you in a dark corner of the factory. 

You look up at him through wide eyes. That teasing smile you’ve grown all too familiar with decorates his lips.

“Why the rush, sweet bird?”

“Coriolanus…” You step back from him. “Can’t you just leave me be, just once?”

He approaches you, forcing you to shrink against the wall. He cages you, his hands on each side of you as he drinks you in. You dip your head, overwhelmed with the scent of roses washing over you. 

“I can’t actually.” Warmth swirls in your belly as his tone lowers. “Look at me.” He puts two fingers below your chin to angle it upward. His eyes narrow. “You’re upset.”

“Just had a long day,” you elude with a shrug. 

He scrutinizes you. Your mouth quakes, his silence unnerving you. 

After some time, he finally announces, “I’m getting discharged soon.”

“Oh, where?”

“I’m getting sent back to the Capitol.”

You gape at him. That’s not what you expected to hear. Though you surmise it makes sense, with him being around less. A strange mix of feelings surges inside your chest. But mostly, relief, freedom. You’ll be able to breathe properly again, without the uneasy attention of the peacekeeper tailing you everywhere you go. 

Though you try not to let your emotions show. You give a tilted smile.

“Isn’t that a good thing? You get to go home, return to your life.”

His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek. 

“Well…I’ll miss some things about District 8.”

You clear your throat. “I should get back home.”

“Meet me tonight,” he says bluntly. 

“What for?”

His eyes darken, running over your trembling frame. His thumb skims over your bottom lip.

“I’m leaving. We should celebrate, just the two of us.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. You truly hoped to avoid…colliding with the peacekeeper again, in any way, but you suppose it was inevitable. One way or another, he’d have asked for more of you, simply because he could. Your fate is in his hands after all. He could easily make your life here hell just by whispering in the right ears.

Still, you can’t help voicing a feeble protest.

“Is that necessary?”

His eyes flare with danger. Your breath snags as he grips your jaw, his fingers digging painfully into your cheeks. Your pulse thrums beneath his palm.

“I don’t want to be mean to you right now, so don’t make me.” Though his tone is soft, his expression is harsh and inflexible. “Just do as I say.”

You give a shaky nod.

“S-See you tonight.”

He releases your face and you take a deep breath. His crooked smile is wide and victorious as he hops away from you.

“I look forward to it, sweet bird.”

You put a hand on your chest as he disappears, willing your thundering heart to slow down. You find comfort in a single thought. At least, after tonight, you will finally be rid of the peacekeeper.

[ragingbookdragon]

I Do My Hair Toss, Paint My Nails

Bayverse Transformers x Reader Blurbs

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I fucking wrote TF fanfiction omg. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Ironhide:

It’s only the fourth glance she takes out the window that has her nail tech snorting. “Are you worried someone is going to steal your boyfriend’s truck?”

She startles at his words, barely missing the drill bit going into her skin around her nail as she replies, “Huh?”

“You keep looking at the truck,” he says. “It’s your boyfriend’s, isn’t it?”

Her cheeks begin to warm as she swipes a fifth glance at the black GMC. “What makes you say it’s my boyfriend’s? It could be mine.”

“Please. You work in private security. And I know you drive a pink Porsche.” He takes his own look at the truck. “It’s a nice one. It is your boyfriend’s, right?”

“Something like that,” she replies as he dips the brush into the acrylic and begins to lay it over her nails.

He snorts again. “Okay, Miss Mysterious, keep it secret.”

She gives a smile as he continues to work on her nails and she admires them when they’re done, a sleek black stiletto. “Thank you, Ray.”

Giving a mock bow, he replies, “I do my best. Now off with you.”

Waving, she steps outside and nears the driver’s side of the truck, only to be caught off by a sports car slowing to a stop beside her.

“Hey baby,” the man greets, practically hanging outside of the window. “Where you headed?”

She blinks, offering a deadened stare and grips the door handle. “Nowhere you are. Have a nice day.”

“Now don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he replies with a smirk and starts to get out, but he stops when the truck rumbles with a violent noise. “What the fuck?”

“Easy, Ironhide,” she murmurs, and opens the driver’s door. “Have a lovely day.” Shutting and locking the door, she’s thankful that Ironhide’s windows are tinted and watches as the car pulls away in a hurry.

“You okay?” Ironhide asks. “I can always blast their tailpipe in.”

She laughs. “Thank you, but I think they got the message.”

“Hmm, I disagree, but I’ll take your word for it,” his voice hums through his speakers as he pulls off onto the street. “What did you do in there? You were gone for an hour and a half.”

“Oh, I got my nails painted!” she chirps and flashes her hands down. “See, I painted them black like your paint.”

This time, Ironhide rumbles but it’s with a subtle pride as he compliments, “As beautiful as my weapons, love.”

“Thank you,” she smiles and leans forward, pressing her lips to the center of the steering wheel. “How about we take a drive out of the city?”

“I think that’s a fantastic idea,” he replies and turns off to the main highway pointing out of the city.

***

Rachet:

“I do not understand the process of painting your nails,” Rachet comments as he watches her gently apply a mustard yellow to her nails.

“Which part don’t you understand, big guy?” she replies, not looking up, focusing intently.

“Perhaps it is more so I don’t understand why.”

“Why?”

He nods and gets closer, staring at her hands. “Why are you painting them?”

She looks up at him. “Why me specifically or why do humans paint nails?”

Rachet takes a moment to ponder her question. “Both.”

Sticking her hand under the small gel light, she answers, “Most people paint their nails as a form of self-expression. Others do so as it’s fashionable. Some just do manicures and pedicures to stay groomed. Think of it like you and the others maintaining your own bodies and staying in good condition.” She starts on the other hand when the first is cured. “Some cultures have historic context with painting nails or the length of nails and it’s symbolic to their people.”

“And what of you?” he asks.

“I guess mine is more so expression and maintenance. I work a lot so I can’t always have my nails maintained the way I want, y’know painted and with length. But I always try to keep them clean and nice looking.” She smiles as she paints a red line through them. “Sometimes I’m lucky enough that I get to paint them pretty.”

At that, Rachet tips his head a bit to see. “I’m no human but I do not think red and yellow are technically considered ‘pretty.’”

She gives him a fond look and pokes his nose with her cured pointer. “Really? Because I painted them to look like a similar Autobot I know. Or did you forget you’re red and yellow?”

He coughs slightly and looks away. “Well, now that you mention such a thing.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re flustered, Rachet.”

“Nonsense,” he retorts as he stands up straight, and she has to crane her neck to see him. “Autobots don’t get flustered.”

“I think you’re leaking oil, big guy,” she teases, and he turns hurriedly, patting himself down.

“What! Where!”

“I’m joking,” she says with a grin. “Still set on not being embarrassed?”

***

Bumblebee:

She sits at the station next to Bumblebee as he fumbles with the metal Rubik’s cube she had made for him. “What color should I paint my nails, Bee?” she asks, opening the case, and she really shouldn’t be painting her nails at work, but considering most of the higher ups are in meetings and the facility is a ghost town, she doesn’t have much to do.

Bumblebee looks down, optics zooming in on each color she lifts up for him to see.

“I’ve got blue…red…black…ooo, what about green?” she offers a deep evergreen up and he scowls and shakes his head. “No?”

He sticks a finger into the case and carefully digs around until he pulls out a tiny tube and hands it to her.

“This one?” she asks and looks at the bottle. “Sunrise Yellow,” she says and looks at him. “It matches you.”

This time he gives her a smile of pride and hands her the black bottle as well, gesturing to her middle and ring fingers.

“You want these ones painted black and the others yellow?”

“Yeah baby!” the line from a comedy movie comes over his voice and she snorts.

“Okay, Bee,” she answers and opens the bottles. “Nails that look like you coming up.” she watches as he grins to himself and dances slightly. “You keep it up, Bee, and everyone is going to know you like me.” She pauses and looks at her hands with a deadpan stare. “Actually, they’re going to think I like you.”

He bends down and gets face to face with her. “You do like me.” The words are easy enough to decipher in his rumbles and she looks away.

“Get outta heeya,” she mocks with warm cheeks, and he laughs at her. “Hey, you better stop laughing at me, or do you not remember how you practically tripped over yourself when I wore a dress the other day and you weren’t paying attention. Ran right into the high-beam and maintenance is still working on fixing it.”

At that, his battle visors come down and he hides his face as embarrassed rumbles escape him; she takes the opportunity to slide up onto his leg and sit with a smile as she paints her nails.

***

Optimus:

She greets the soldiers around her with a smile as she enters the facility and wanders back to her desk to set her things down. It’s only a few moments before Lennox finds his way to her desk and simply stands in front of it until she looks up. “Good morning, Will.”

“You’re late,” he retorts and crosses his arms over his chest. “We had training this morning. And you missed it.”

“And I think you forget I was transferred to private security.” She smiles amusedly. “I don’t work for the military anymore.”

He rolls his eyes. “Jesus, you get out and you turn into a completely different person.”

“I am not. Excuse me for enjoying not waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to go running.” She turns on her computer and sorts some paperwork on her desk. “I had an appointment if it appeases your annoyance, your royal eminence.”

“Oh, it’s not me that needs to be appeased. It’s a certain Autobot that was worried about your lateness,” he teases as she feels her cheeks heat up.

She gives him a surprised but pleasant look. “Optimus was worried about me?”

She knows she’s said too much when Lennox’s face splits into a smirk and he gloats, “I fuckin’ knew it was Optimus. Epps thought it was Sideswipe.” His grins grows as she throws her pen at him and he saunters off with, “Guys owe me fifty.”

A few minutes pass as the embarrassment begins to fade when a noise startles her and she lets out a groan and gripes, “William, go awa—Optimus!” she hides her files on her desk as if it will take away the fluster she feels. “I—I didn’t know you were there.”

The Autobot leader bends down to get level with her. “You weren’t at training this morning,” he notes, and she can’t help how her neck disappears into her shoulders.

“I was busy…I had an appointment.”

“Oh?” He blinks, blue optics watching her carefully. “Was it a medical appointment? Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” she replies. “I went to go get my nails done.”

He blinks again, this time almost confused as he asks, “Your…nails?”

She shows her hands, and he lowers his, gently taking both of hers in one; they only rest on one finger as he examines them. “In human culture, men and women paint their finger and toenails different colors. It’s called manicure and pedicure. I have acrylic nails. Made from acrylic glass and hardened with a liquid monomer. It creates a hardened surface that can be drilled and painted. Like mine.”

Optimus looks them over before he murmurs almost uncharacteristically quiet, “They are painted like my paint.”

Her cheeks warm and she looks away. “I…know we can’t exactly be open…people wouldn’t understand but…I just thought it would be a romantic gesture I guess.”

“I am honored,” he says with a smile. “They are painted beautifully…like you.”

“Optimus,” she replies with a warm smile. “Thank you.”

[moodyhaaze]

just me ranting about s*lmare again,,, sigh

it’s kind of getting on my nerves seeing people getting mad at others for pointing out s*lmare’s shitty behavior. like, i get that people may not want to see negativity about the games/devs but acting like people aren’t allowed to be negative is a whole different thing.

look. i’m not trying to be seen as the like “ultimate s*lmare hater™︎” or anything (or maybe i am), but i’m just going to compile a quick and nowhere near exhaustive list for everybody so they understand why i and so many other fans are still so mad. because quite frankly i’m sick of people crying on twitter that i’m “just being mean” when what i’m really doing is calling a spade a spade.

for an ENTIRE YEAR before nightbringer was released, devs never told anybody that a new game was coming out. everybody grinded for an ENTIRE YEAR because we were kept under the impression that a new season was coming to OG only to be told “haha we’re going to make you pretty much redo the whole story again (but in the past :O !!!) only after which you’ll get a conclusion for OG :)” [the end of lesson 80 of OG literally said coming soon until AFTER nightflop was announced.]

devs waited until a reddit ama to even tell us that a new game was coming, but only when asked by a fan who’s question subsequently got buried in all the other responses. the only reason anybody else saw it is because it was screenshotted and posted to twitter and in its own post on reddit. no official announcement was made prior. the first official announcement we got was like a week or two before nightflop was released.

they keep pushing out terrible quality events back to back just to milk money from fans even though the vast majority of fans have said they don’t like back to back events because the quality of them are horrendous. most players would rather have fewer events with better writing then to have constant shit ones.

never told us that daily chats were ending in OG. we only knew this was happening because someone sent a ticket to the devs and it was then screenshotted and posted to twitter.

s*lmare has proved time and time again that they only care about whales. they’ve proven this by paywalling a lot of features in Nightbringer. and before anyone drops in with “but they give us more devil points in battles >:(“ shut up. haven’t you noticed the increase in need to spend devil points? whether for character outfits, sprite outfits, level up sales (that they’ve made more frequent by making leveling up easier), ap sales, etc… they’ve only given you more DP so you’ll spend more DP.

they literally shoved an ad down our throats as many times as they could (in NB) by putting it on the HOME. SCREEN. as well as making it one of the first things you see when you boot up the app and in the side news thing. they didn’t do anything about it until fans complains relentlessly for WEEKS.

they took away the 10x free pulls for HDD 4 (which is OG’s birthday NOT Nightflop’s). they have always done the free pulls since the games inception. they did this so that fans are more likely to use they’re own vouchers or pay irl money for the cards they want.

they lowered nightmare drops EVEN LOWER to force players to draw more if they want certain cards (this goes back to putting players in a position to use irl money to buy devil points for nightmare summons if they want certain cards).

wanderers whereabouts and fabsnap are lazy and unnecessary and from what i understand, most people barely fool with it. the models are cheap and horrendous. (i get it’s a mobile game and the graphics are not going to be like PS5 level, but come on.)

they took away birthday events without an announcement. people were saving AP and demon vouchers for their favorite boys’ birthday events only to instead be given ONLY a birthday nightmare with a pity OF 200. they also stopped doing birthday events before asmo’s 2023 bday, leaving him as the only brother without a prince card. never mind the fact that they’ve paywalled birthday items in wanderer’s whereabouts for $3.99 (usd).

they changed some devil grams (in OG) to please a loud minority of players that didn’t like having to kiss the brothers in the devilgrams. in a game about dating and kissing demons. they pandered to a small (but quite loud) minority of players BITCHING that they didn’t want to kiss the brothers. in a game about dating demons.

they’ve infantilized the game and lowered the age rating (to 12+) to make it more accessible to younger audiences which has significantly lowered the quality of the writing. this is a game about demons !! they are not child friendly and they don’t need to be written as such. a game about dating and romancing demons is a kids game now.

i want to express very sincerely that i absolutely adore obey me. i have for the past four years. (you should see my collection of luci merch LOL). it’s the first franchise i have devoted myself to so strongly. i just really hate s*lmare and how they keep getting greedier while offering NOTHING to fans but lukewarm content and constant money pandering. this franchise means a lot to me, and i know that rings true for most of the players, and it hurts to see it going down the drain like this considering it is so special to me. i love this community (except when people are crying over misinterpreting criticisms against s*lmare/devs as personal attacks) and i love what everybody creates. it’s all so so very special to me and it’s important that we all understand this. these games and franchise could be something so very special. it started out so different (in a good way!) than almost all other otomes i’ve played, but now it’s getting left in the dust because a multimillion dollar company is more worried about how to milk an extra $3.99 from their fans than they are making quality content that fans would be WILLING to pay for, instead of locking content behind paywalls.

i wish nightbringer was never a thing. the story they wanted to make could have easily been a 1-2 season arc in OG. but instead we were forced to essentially play the same game over again, just in a different setting and time, and pretty much be told that the time we’ve spent grinding and leveling up our cards and getting through all the battles in OG was wasted. all for a new game that nickels and dimes players while offering shit in return.

solmare was proven that they have no intention of being transparent with fans. that they only want to milk whatever money they can from us. it’s created a lot of distrust and aversion in the community. and believe me, after all this, and even after obey me is run through and isn’t a cash cow for them anymore, i’ll never play another fucking solmare game ever again.

❤︎ it’ll always be ‘one master to rule them all.’

[chronicdisasterwrites]

you touched my hair and i almost passed out

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

genre + warnings: - SUPER FLUFF !!! jealousy, pining, kissing, megumi being a fantastic lil' wingman, swearing, a lil s2 spoiler.

word count: 2,750

summary: PART 3 of the gojo series !!! satoru is flustered, reader is dense af, she touches his hair and he almost dies.

enjoy this mess lmfao

“You’re pathetic.”

“Excuse me?” 

Megumi looks uninterested and downright disappointed as he glares at his teacher. Whereas, Gojo Satoru looks bewildered as to what he might've done to make his student extra bitter today. He always finds a way to piss Megumi off; even sometimes just by breathing too loudly.

Megumi rolls his eyes and sighs as he goes back to reading his book. Satoru crosses his arms across his chest as he leans back on his chair and crosses his legs. He waits for Megumi to explain himself, only to be answered with pure silence and an overwhelming aura of pity. 

Satoru pouts and scoffs, “Seriously?”

Megumi simply takes a sip of his ginger tea as he looks at Satoru with his usual look of pure disdain. He clenches his jaw as he looks as if he's waiting for Satoru to figure it out already, but to everyone else around them, it simply looks like they’re in the middle of a serious staring competition. 

“Your pining. It's pathetic.”

Satoru’s jaw drops and he quickly closes it and leans forward, putting his arms on the table, and staring intently at Megumi through his sunglasses. Megumi is unfazed.

“I am not pining. I am simply observing.”

Megumi raises a single brow and looks back to where you were standing and conversing with some guy. You've been talking to him for quite a while now and Satoru has been hopelessly staring since you left the table you three were seated at. Megumi turns back to look at Satoru and scoffs, “Yeah. Sure you are.”

This time Satoru does nothing to hide his gaping jaw. He lets out a humorless laugh and slaps his hand on the table,

“No no seriously, I don't care if she talks with some guy. I mean, it's totally cool. Some random guy shows up outta nowhere and sweeps her off her feet whereas I have been here all this time giving her very obvious signs all of which she'll just blatantly ignore, so yeah yeah it's totally cool.” Satoru leans back and crosses his arms across his chest, all while his face is burning red and Megumi almost sees smoke come out of his ears. 

Megumi’s eyes are wide with concern. Mainly because people around them heard Satoru’s little monologue and are now muttering amongst themselves and some even snickering. Megumi could die from the embarrassment. He always knew his teacher and guardian had a very obvious thing for his other teacher and sort of guardian. You were pretty much always around since Megumi and Tsumiki started living with Satoru. Or more, near Satoru, because there’s no way anyone could make Megumi stay in the same apartment as Gojo Satoru. So he and Tsumiki stay in the apartment right next to Satoru’s. And according to Megumi, you were a saint for tolerating Satoru’s ridiculous antics for so long. But Megumi’s observant. He sees through people, and he could see very well how much you both liked each other. In fact, it was sort of endearing at first; watching the two of you do small things for each other, give each other fleeting glances and hidden smiles, ghosting touches on each other's skin. But now, it's just plain annoying. The unreleased tension is killing Megumi and the boy is only 13. He shouldn't even know what this tension is. That's how obvious you and Satoru were. And Megumi had had enough of this ridiculous pining.

Sighing, Megumi crosses his arms across his chest and furrows his brows, staring intently at his guardian, “Just be a grown-up and tell her.”

Satoru scoffs, “Tell her what? That I obviously don't like her? Sure thing.”

Slapping a palm on his face, Megumi wishes he could slap the immature adult sitting across from him instead. Before he lets his intrusive thoughts win, you walk over and place a bag on the table, right in front of Megumi and Satoru. They both look at you with quirked eyebrows and you smile, thinking how strange it is that they both look so similar.

“This is for you. Call it a ‘first day as a teacher’ gift,” You look at Satoru with that dazzling smile and Satoru feels his resolve dwindling. Curses, he thinks. He skeptically peeks into the bag and sees a black box wrapped with a ribbon. Looking back at you through his glasses, he raises a silvery brow, “Did your little friend give this to you?”

Your smile drops and morphs into a perplexed look,

“What, Haru? No- wha- I bought this for you.”

“Ah, so he has a name. Didn't ask but okay,” Satoru huffs and you see the muscle in his jaw twitch. You cross your arms and stare down at him with extremely confused eyes, “What’s your problem?”

Satoru sighs, places a couple of notes on the table as he stands, and takes the bag, “Nothing. Forget it.” He walks away, you presume to the car, without another word. You look at Megumi and see that he's already looking at you with expectant eyes. You shrug and point your thumb at the obviously pissed-off man, “What’s with him?”

Megumi stands, tight-lipped, “He’s being a child because he’s scared of his feelings.” 

You're absolutely bewildered now. Feelings? What feelings? What did I even do? Wait- Is he jealous? No way. 

You think Megumi can see into your mind as he raises his eyebrows and looks at you, hoping you'd crack the code. When you simply stare with a slack jaw he sighs, “Talk to him, please.”

He follows his guardian and you stand there wondering what the hell was going on. 

—-

Satoru enters his apartment with a heavy heart. It's ridiculous to act like this, he knows that. You don't deserve his attitude just because he is incapable of expressing himself like a normal human being. All these years, he's loved you. As a friend first, then at one point, it exceeded that, and now he can't imagine his life without you. It's suffocating and he just cannot bring himself to tell you. He wants to, but then his mind fills with thoughts that keep him up at night and rob him of the little sleep he tries to get. What if you freak out and refuse to even be friends anymore? What if you run away? What if you say you feel the same way and then you end up breaking up? I don't deserve you. You can have someone normal, with a normal life, and a normal past. What if I can't make you happy? What if someone targets you because of me? What if I can't protect you? What if I lose you? 

Satoru sighs as he removes his glasses and puts them on the empty dining table, in the empty room, in his empty apartment. He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales. I should apologize, he thinks. He will, but first, he'll open the gift. He takes out the black box and takes off the ribbon, opening the lid. His eyes soften as he lifts the long, midnight-blue blindfold. He smiles to himself. You remembered. He remembers years ago he told you he would start wearing a blindfold since glasses stopped being effective enough for his Six Eyes. He remembers telling you the glasses were hurting the bridge of his nose so a blindfold would be the best option, but he was too picky and couldn't find the perfect blindfold for his “perfect” eyes. He couldn't believe you remembered, considering your reaction when he told you this minuscule information was a simple, “Okay, you do you.”

He takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling. I'll tell her. 

—-

“Hey, you busy?”

You jerk from the sudden voice as you turn around to see Gojo Satoru standing in your living room, uninvited. You breathe heavily as you relax your clenched hand that effectively ruined the report you were working on before getting so brazenly startled. 

“What the hell, Satoru?”

Satoru smiles sheepishly as he scratches the back of his head. He holds up the blindfold and says, “Thanks for this. I didn't think you'd remember.”

You sigh and turn back to continue working on your report, “Of course I remembered, Satoru.”

His heart is pounding and he can't remember ever feeling like this. He feels like a child with a crush and he doesn't know what to do. Just say it. For fuck’s sake, just say it. 

“Will you cut my hair?”

There's an uncomfortable silence filling the room and Satoru wants to teleport away and hope you'll forget this encounter. You slowly turn back to look at him with wide eyes. Satoru feels his face warm up. 

You blink, “You want me to cut your hair?”

Satoru gulps and decides to roll with it, “Yeah, I mean- my hair won't look nice with a blindfold the way it is. It'll just fall off. So I guess- y’know- gimme an undercut or something, maybe?” He looks everywhere but your eyes and continues fiddling with his hair. He's so adorable, you can't help but think.

You laugh and fully turn around on your chair to face him, “I can't believe you'll let me touch your precious hair.”

Finally looking at you, Satoru feels himself fall even more in love with you. Your effortless smile after the way he treated you earlier that day made him feel like absolute shit. But that smile; he'd die twice for that smile and then come back to life just to see it again. 

He smiles and shrugs, “Yeah. I trust you, so why not?” 

You grin and walk towards him. Bringing your hand up to assess his hair, you purse your lips, “Alright, I’ll cut your hair.”

—-

I can't do this. This is too much. She smells so good. Her hands are so soft. Fuck, this was a mistake. Killing Toji was easier than this shit.

Satoru was sweating and his brain was about to implode. You sat him down in your bathroom filled with everything you need to cut his hair perfectly. You were excited, as a child would be after getting an entire bar of chocolate for themselves or a cool pair of shoes. Little did you know, Satoru was freaking out. This wasn't even the closest he had been to you. He kissed you on the forehead, he had touched your chest. Albeit innocent, he knows that if he wasn't having a panic attack he would've short-circuited right then and there. And you didn't see him lean against the wall to control his breathing right as he turned the corner after kissing you on the forehead, after you almost died. He had been loving you for so long, that he wondered how dumb you could be sometimes despite being one of the smartest people he knows. But now, you're too close, your face inches from his as you check the length of his bangs. His eyes are locked on his clasped hands lying on his lap as you snip away. 

As you move behind him and turn on the trimmer, he finally releases the breath he had been holding. The cold steel of the trimmer touches his neck and shivers run up his entire body. You watch goosebumps form on his skin near his nape and ask, “You alright? Are my hands too cold?”

“No no, I'm good. Perfect, actually.” Satoru slaps himself mentally for being so painfully obvious. Then he remembers he was supposed to confess anyway. You mutter a small “okay” and get right back to working the trimmer on the underside of his hair. Taking the bottle, you spritz some water on his hair and comb through it with your little brush. Your hands run through his hair and Satoru feels he might just pass out. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and tries to control his racing heart. The sound of the scissors cutting more of his silvery white hair brings his head down from the clouds. The soft touch of your fingers against his neck just sends his head into overdrive again. Your hands fluff his hair as you move in front of him again to check your work. You look into his eyes and Satoru can't help himself anymore. 

“I love you.”

The way your eyes widen and shoulders drop almost breaks Satoru’s delicate heart. You open your mouth but Satoru beats you to it. He stands up and starts rambling,

“You don't have to say anything. I just- I love you and I had to tell you, I just couldn't keep it in anymore. I understand if you don't feel the same and you don't have to, It's okay, just please don't freak out and stop being my friend or something.”

You keep staring at him and he thinks this is it. The end of it all. Almost a decade-long friendship; thrown down the drain. He says your name and looks at you with the softest eyes you've ever seen in your life.

“C’mon say something. Anything. “Get out”, “Shut up”, something, anyth-”

“I love you too.”

Satoru stands still, mid-sentence, gaping like a fish out of water, “Huh?”

You snort and cover your face with your hands, shoulders shaking with laughter, “I said, I love you too.”

Satoru exhales deeply and leans down to rest his hands on his knees. He looks up at you, still laughing, and asks, “Why on Earth are you laughing?”

You chortle and look at him with gleaming eyes and the brightest smile he thinks he's ever seen, “You just look so ridiculous.” 

Satoru looks at the mirror and mentally facepalms at his appearance. A giant plastic bag wrapped around his upper body and half-wet hair making him look like a wet rat. Yeah, he did look ridiculous. He shakes his head and laughs. Moving closer to you he slowly places his hand on your cheek. He looks at the fully healed scar and leans down to kiss it gently. Resting his forehead on yours, he breathes, “I love you.” He then leaves an even gentler kiss on the tip of your nose, “So, so much.”

He's gazing into your eyes and you're gazing into his, with the same look you've always given him, which makes him think out loud, “How long have you…?”

You sigh as you close your eyes and bring up your hand to touch his wrist near your face, feeling his pulse. You release a short laugh, “Long enough.”

Satoru smiles and brings his other hand to caress your other cheek, “Can I kiss you? Please?”

You smile and loop your arms around his neck, “Yes, please do.”

He leans down as you lean up and you can feel his smile against your lips. His large hands on your face, his lips against yours, his breath in your lungs, all you can think is Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. The kiss is slow, like you're both memorizing each other's taste. Like you're fully immersing yourselves in this experience as if it's the last time you'll ever be able to do this. You never thought you'd have this, but now you do. He loves you. Your hands stroke his undercut, feeling the freshly cut hair on your skin as your hand moves up to brush against the longer strands on top. 

His hands are holding onto your face as if he's afraid you'll slip away if he lets go for even a second. Then he feels you caress the back of his head and he lets one of his hands travel down to wrap itself around your waist. This is real, he thinks and he can't believe it. You love him. His lips move against yours in a perfect rhythm, as if you've been kissing each other for years. It's comfortable, safe, familiar.

Finally stopping, you both breathe heavily with the dopiest grins on your faces. Beaming, Satoru wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you, clutching your head to his chest. You let out a breath, getting lost in the rhythm of his heartbeat. The vibrations from his laughter cause you to look up at him with a questioning look on your face.

He shakes his head and brings a hand up to gently rest your head back on his chest. Perching his chin on top of your head, he strokes your hair.

“Megumi will have a field day when he hears about this.”

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

a/n: okkkk finally the morons confess! also I added a guy called haru bc i love haruka from free! and i could, so yay.

taglist: @thepup356, @porridgesblog, @stray-npc, @daisy-the-quake, @reignsaway, @ainetx, @icarusignite, @mariapierce789

[tadpolebrains]

Astarion taking to sleeping more often rather than trancing after the events of the game.

When elves trance, they relive memories. In an Astarion origin playthrough, we see how his memories of Cazador tend to invade his trances. And trance memories are exact. Vivid. You can literally choose to have him try to make out what the scars on his back say by having him relive the carvings through that trance. Right?

So, post-game, he tries to stick to trancing. It’s more convenient. It’s what elves do. It’s what he’s always done.

Every night, it’s visions of Cazador.

One night, he’s so exhausted from reliving those same damn memories that he just passes out on a bed the moment he hits it. He sleeps fully. And sure, he has some nightmares. But they’re nowhere near as vivid, as real, as trancing makes his memories feel. They’re fuzzy. When he wakes, he finds he can barely remember the specifics of them.

And that’s so much better. Not perfect- he’d rather not see Cazador’s face ever again, but fuzzy was better than clear.

So Astarion takes to sleeping rather than trancing whenever he needs rest. And he’s an absolute ugly sleeper. He’ll sprawl all over the bed, wake up with his hair every which way, drool, hell, he even snored one night and wouldn’t believe anyone telling him that. He’s too dignified to snore, you cretin.

He wakes up groggy and oftentimes takes at least an hour to get himself up, drifting in and out of consciousness, but… he also doesn’t constantly feel on edge as much as he used to. He can afford to be groggy so long as he’s safe.

And he is safe.