#but im unwilling to type that all back out

[jaxgingrichart]

[samkerrworshipper]

Would you please be able to write something about you getting the call up for the WC and calling Sam afterwards crying. Just lots of fluff xx

Thank you

the phone call | sam kerr x lionesses reader

sorry my lovelies… i’m still yet to leave bed because of this pain flare up

sorry if i’m not interacting with your messages and kind words.. trying to limit my screen time but i promise im seeing them all and it means the world to me

for now you all get some little drabbles that are sitting in my drafts xo

It’s 6pm.

The calls were supposed to start going out at 4 and it’s 6.

You’re paralysed, stuck to your spot on the couch, your feet anxiously tied up in the blanket draped over you as you stare down at your phone, patiently awaiting a call.

It hasn’t been an easy ride to get to this point, almost a year ago you were lying in a hospital bed, unmoving and unsure whether you’d ever walk again, let alone be in contention to play football for your country.

You’ve worked your ass off, tens of hundreds of hours in the gym, rehabbing, working on your strength, all for this call.

You know realistically that the longer you’re left waiting, the longer that your chances are depleting.

Coaches make the easiest calls first, the starting eleven, then their moving bench, players who will still get plenty of time on the pitch, then they move onto the maybe players, players whose skill sets might be needed depending on the team, then it’s onto the emergency players, then it’s the fillers, players that are just kind of on the squad because of courtesy, even though the chances that they will play is next to nothing.

In your mind, you fall into some place between the last two, Sarina doesn’t owe you anything though, the last time you played for her was the Euro’s semi final, when everything went to shit for you and sure, you’ve worked hard since then, but sometimes hard work isn’t always enough, especially in the world of soccer politics.

You sent Sam out of the house to run some errands half an hour ago, insisting you would be fine, but right now you wished you hadn’t, because there is nothing you need more than to be cuddled up in your fiancé’s arms.

She’s been there for you every single step of the way, quite literally being the person who helped you walk your first steps after surgery.

The road has been tough for the both of you, and you know there is nothing Sam wants more than for you to be with her in Australia over the Summer.

If it isn’t meant to be, then it isn’t, you’ll be there anyways on the sidelines supporting her but there is something so much more satisfying about knowing that you might get to be on the pitch beside her.

You don’t know what you’ll do if you are back in the squad, sure you’ve been to the last two camps, but being named in the actual squad is something else, especially for the world cup, it would mean the whole world to you.

Your thoughts are enough to drain out the ping from messages, but the desperate vibration in your hands isn’t.

Your eyes dart down to the screen, bursting open like you’d just consumed a energy drink when Sarina’s name pops up on your screen.

‘If you have a spare minute would love to chat whenever your free.’

You’ve been free since 12pm last night, sleep didn’t come for you, instead you’d sat by the phone, waiting for any kind of notification.

Sam had tried her hardest to pry you away, forcing you to come on a morning run with her, which was extremely abnormal, neither you or Sam where runners, but you assumed it was just your girlfriend trying to make you feel a little bit better.

You typed at your phone like a mad man, unwilling to miss this precious window that seemed to have opened for you, you didn’t even had the chance to actually think about Sarina actually calling you, too busy furiously tapping at the keyboard on your phone.

‘Free to chat whenever suits you’

You didn’t have much time to look at your text, mere seconds after the bubble went blue Sarina’s contact was popping up on your screen.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do much more than aggressively tap the green button and watch as the call connected and Sarina’s face popped up on your screen.

“Y/n, good to see you, how’s your day been? I’ve been told there is quite a storm in London today?”

You don’t want to talk about weather, or this as trivial as how your day is going, but you put a smile on for Sarina anyways, a cute little smile that you normally save for press conferences after a particularly bad match or rough game.

“Sarina, it’s an honour as always, I’m doing well thanks, the weather is definitely shocking but we’re used to it, how’s it doing in the Netherlands?”

Sarina smiles at you, and it makes you feel a little bit uneasy, why can’t she just rip the bandaid off.

“It’s nice today, blue skies. How’s Sam? I don’t know if I had the chance to congratulate you on your engagement yet.”

You put on another little smile, trying to act like the nerves growing in your stomach aren’t bubbling up so badly that you feel as if you’re about to vomit.

“Sam’s good, we’re very happy, I’ve sent her out to get groceries which I’m regretting because she hasn’t got a clue what we need.”

Sarina laughs heartily, and it’s almost enough to make you feel a little bit better about the whole situation.

“Well I hope she’ll be happy to know that you’ll be in Australia over the Summer playing for England, if you’d like?”

All thoughts in your brain are cut off when you catch onto what Sarina is saying and then all of a sudden you can feel the tears building up in the back of your eyes.

“You’re serious? You want me in Australia?”

Sarina just laughs once again.

“You were part of our winning Euro’s team y/n, there is nothing I would love more than to welcome you back. You are a crucial part of our defence, especially with Leah missing and there is nothing we need more than your leadership. You’ve been fantastic on the pitch recently, both club and at camp, if you keep performing as you are, I think you’ll be very deserving of taking your place back in the starting eleven, how does that sound?”

You have to put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from sobbing.

“Thank you so much Sarina, you genuinely don’t know how much this means to me, I’ll prove to you everyday that I deserve to be there and I’ll do whatever I can on and off the pitch to help the team.”

Sarina just smiles to herself.

“I don’t doubt that at all, all I ask is that you try your hardest, I’ll let you go now y/n, have a good couple of weeks, I’ll see you at the airport.”

Before you can embarrass yourself any further, you're wishing Sarina farewell and pressing the red button at the bottom of your screen.

It takes a few seconds for it all to set in for you, the happenings of your phone call slowly sinming into your brain.

It’s when it all sinks in that you realise tears are still dripping down your face, and before you can think about it too hard your searching for Sam’s contact and clicking the call button.

To Sam’s credit, it takes about three seconds before your girlfriends face pops up on your screen.

“I think I might need a shopping list- baby why are you crying?”

Just looking at Sam makes you perk up a little bit, she’s all flustered which you don’t see very often.

“Sarina called, I’m in the squad, she wants me in the squad.”

Just saying it creates a whole other wave of emotions of flowing, and this time you don’t even try to stop the sobs leaving your mouth.

Sam lights up immediately.

“Baby, that is awesome, I’m not surprised at all, I’m leaving the shops now, I’ll be home in five minutes we can talk about it then, hmm?”

You nod eagerly, a big smile breaking out across its face.

“I’m so proud of you babe, you’ve worked so hard for this, I’ll be home in a couple of minutes, okay?”

You just nod at Sam, far to giddy to do much besides jerk your head up and down like a energised puppy.

You weren’t quite sure what the future held for your Summer in Australia, but you that no matter what, no matter the injuries, setbacks, bad games, Sam would be there for you through it all, she’d be there for you, no matter what side of the dug out you were sitting on.

[kastlequill]

i/v. ‘til my pulse loses time: pulsus bisferiens

pairing: kyle gaz garrick x f!reader word count: 1.3k synopsis: the first time you save gaz tags: whumptober, gunshot wounds, blood and injury, wound tending, hurt/comfort, medic!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: none ao3: read here next →

I.

Tuesdays were unremarkable. They couldn’t compare to the infamous Mondays or halfway-mark Wednesdays, to anticipatory Thursdays or the thank-God-it’s Fridays, least of all to the relaxing Saturdays and Church-going Sundays.

The new orders you received last Tuesday, however, were anything but plain. There was nothing ordinary about getting shipped out to a classified location to provide aid to the soldiers injured during their classified missions to eliminate classified targets.

You knew next to nothing about your current assignment. High command had informed you that you’d be working as the lead on-site medic, tending to the wounded and assisting in their recovery to the best of your abilities. That was all your superiors had felt the need to tell you.

The base of operation was fairly sizable, well stocked, and even had a couple other medical personnel around to help too, so you couldn’t really complain. You’d primarily be dealing with soldiers who were designated as special operators, and, in your experience, those types made absolute dogshit patients. Only a single week had passed, yet you could already tell that some of the lot were more injury-prone than others.

A specific British SAS sergeant came to mind.

Your first time meeting him had been relatively benign; he’d entered the mess hall as you exited. Although speedily heading in different directions, he had nonetheless offered a casual salute, and you had returned his gesture with a nod of your own. Simple, polite. No fuss.

The exact opposite of how he arrived to you today, the second Tuesday of the month.

Two towering men flanked him on either side as they shouldered their half-conscious comrade into your medbay. With them came chaos. Thick English accents yelling for a medic, combat boots storming toward you, dragging in a trail of blood. They brought war to your feet and Death to your door.

Rushing over to them, you quickly scanned the sergeant’s body for damage. Preliminary assessments yielded speculative results at best: a tourniquet around his thigh told of prior heavy bleeding, and the sway of his head meant he wasn’t fully capable of supporting its weight. But nothing was certain. 

“What am I dealing with here? Concussion, gunshot wound, broken bones—?”

“—got caught in the blast radius,” interrupted a gruff voice belonging to the masked lieutenant. “Knocked ‘im back a few meters. No major visible injuries, ‘cept a bullet to the leg.” 

You swore. “Is it still inside?” 

Exit wounds typically offered a better prognosis; the energy driving forth a gunshot needed somewhere to go, and, preferably, that somewhere was far from surrounding organs or internal systems. If the piece of metal remained lodged inside of him, then you would have to remove it.

He answered with a single definitive nod. Unsurprising; of course nothing in war ever turned out for the better.

“Put him on my table. Carefully.” 

The two soldiers hauled their brother-in-arms up onto the examination table that had seen more action within a week than most ever did. Trauma to the head required immediate attention; the brain was a delicate organ, and if the explosion had badly jostled it against the walls of his skull, there could be severe damage.

Unwilling to waste a second longer, you gently parted the now-supine man’s eyelids with your fingertips to get a look at his pupils. In the midst of an unfocused sea of brown, one pupil was more dilated than the other—concussed, then. At the intensity of the blue overhead light, he reflexively squinted and shut his eyes once more.

That wouldn’t do. “Sergeant, I need you to open those eyes again, okay? Think you can track this flashlight for me?”

Being as sensitive to brightness as he was currently, it took some effort for him to pry his eyes open. They valiantly fought the urge to close whilst following the stick-end of your black flashlight from left to right, right to left. There was some unsteady shakiness to their movement, but they still appeared properly calibrated.

“You’re doing great,” you encouraged, holding his gaze as you pocketed the light. The next course of action was to check his processing of visual information. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

He blinked slowly, an inquisitive frown contorting his features. Several confusion-riddled seconds elapsed until the man decided to simply feel what he could not see. Grasping your hand in his own, he grazed your knuckles with a calloused thumb, explored the lengths of your raised fingers, puzzled out how they were configured into the shape of a peace sign. Recognition sparked in his eyes.

“Two.”

An endeared smile graced your lips. The only predictable constant in this profession was its unpredictability. None of your previous patients had done that before.

“Try again.” You lightly pulled your hand free and watched his own fall back to rest on his chest, physically unable to sustain the lifted position. Unfurling your ring finger to join your index and middle, three total fingers hovered in front of his face, just out of reach. “How many do you see now?”

Without using his sense of touch to determine the correct number, all the sergeant could do was sigh and reply honestly. “Six.”

“Y’can’t be serious, Gaz. The limit’s five,” his mohawked companion corrected, a hint of incredulity and amusement slipping into his tone.

“Quit taking the piss, we’ve got ten of ‘em.” The words were slurred, but intelligible. As he spoke, his brows began to furrow, the man suddenly unsure of himself. He looked at the captain, whose belated entrance managed to diffuse some of the anxiety present in the room. “Right, sir?”

The room erupted with noise as the three other soldiers simultaneously began to talk over each other. You were able to catch the occasional bloody hell and heard yes, Gaz, that’s right and even chuckled a bit at no need to worry, you still ‘ave all ten of the little bastards.

Military folk had a specific way of coping with the consequences of war, and you didn’t think you would ever quite understand it from your side of the line. But if it worked, then it worked. What mattered was the patient’s ability to persist in spite of the world; the exact methods used to do so weren’t up for scrutiny, not by you or anyone else.

Donning a clean pair of surgical gloves, you exchanged glances with the technician and nurse on duty. “Get him a CT scan. Let’s make sure his brain’s in one piece, then we can deal with the bullet. I’ll prep the OR.”

When you made to leave, a tug on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. A quick turn of your head revealed the image of his loose yet insistent grip around you once again, unwilling to let go of what had seemingly become his sole anchorage to the land of the living.

“Don’t worry,” you said softly, squeezing his hand in yours. This—comforting the wounded—was as much a part of the healing process as medicine itself. Even the toughest of soldiers reverted to a childlike state of vulnerability after too close a brush with death. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

The tension in his features relaxed as did his hold on you, and he lowered himself to lay flat on the table’s surface before being wheeled away by the technician. As you watched his form disappear beyond the threshold of a plastic curtain, you were struck with a near-overwhelming sense of foreboding.

Though you hoped this Gaz wouldn’t soon return with an irremediable injury, optimism had never been your strong suit.

tbc.

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

So I accidentally deleted this request but I have written it so sorry to whoever wrote it.

Request : Okok, Teen!Male!reader x Spencer Ried (platonic obvs) when reader ends up getting mixed up a crime/murder in the drug scene. They aren't the unsub but they struggle with addiction and has an ally cat type attitude so it makes it difficult to get any information out of him. Spencer is like a father figure and they start to get close, helping reader through out the case/ recovery.

I love this idea

Third person pov...

Spencer Reid and Derek Morgan arrive on scene, there is a serial killer runnng around kidnapping upstanding people then killing people by overdosing them on different drugs.

The latest victim was a mother with two children under the ages of 10, with no history of drug use she is currently the 5th victim, where they found her was in a dumpster in ohio.

"Looks like the rest of the victims" Says Derek as he kneels next to the body of Samantha Doyle. Spencer nods and looks around the scene. "As well as the dump site, he threw her away like trash." He says, as he looks he notices a boy looking no older then 15 being talked to by the police.

Confused Spence leaves Morgan and walks over to one of the police officers. "Hey excuse me, whats he doing here?" He asks nodding over at the boy and officer.

The office next to him looks over. "Oh yeah him, he's been hanging around sayin' he saw something. Don't bother with 'im he's an addict got loads of them here" he tells the agent, Spencer thanks the man but doesn't take his eyes of the teen.

The officer just sighs and leaves the boy, he was watching with intense curiosity. The boy had messy hair and dark circles under his eyes, giving the impression of a troubled soul.

Spencer's mind immediately went into profiling mode, trying to figure out the boy's story, he walked over to the boy and introduced himself, "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid. And you are?"

The young man shrugged his shoulders tapping his hand nervously. "Y/N" he says bearly over a mumble but Spencer hears him. "Well Y/N, did you see anything here?" He asked.

The young detective immediately noticed the troubled look in (Y/n)'s eyes, and he could see the fear and guilt written all over his face.

Spencer's empathetic nature kicked in, and he knew that there was more to this young man than meets the eye.

(Y/n) was like a wounded alley cat, always on edge and unwilling to trust anyone. The 15 year old didn't say anything. "How about you come to the station to talk" Says the genius.

Y/N thinks before nodding, either way they were going to make him talk might as well get it over with, soon the boy is sat in the back of thr SUV with two Agents.

They try and talk to him more but only get a few words out bef they take him to the interrogation room to talk, as Y/N sits and waits he thinks over his life.

He's been hooked on drugs since he was 12 when he was 10 his Mother died leaving him with his abusive Father, he would kick little Y/N around all day until the boy finally turned to drugs to dull the pain.

It's worked all those years and he's hooked, finally when he was 14 he ran away and had beeb living on the streets, pick pocketing people who walk past him.

He met many different people throughout the last year, not many of them were nice most were arsehole and criminals, but last night traumatised him.

He was in his usual place counting the money he managed to pick pocket of some people, when he heard something. He saw a guy dressed in dark clothes throughing something in the dumpster.

Y/N didn't bother with it, but he got curious and stuck behind a dumpster and got a pretty good look at what was happening, his E/C eyes widened in shock.

It was a body, the man was throwing her into the dumpster, Y/N ducks into the darkness when the guy turns around, he gets a good look at his face before he leaves in a truck.

It was to dark to see the number plate, Y/N walks closer to the body, her lifeless eyes stare into his dark tired ones, she looked alot like his Mother.

Shivering he closed her eyes and left to go back to his place where he sleeps and tried to forget what he saw.

The door to the room opens bringing the teen back into the real world, Spencer had told everyone to stay there thay he would handle it.

He closed the door and sat in the chair oppos the boy, Y/N wasnt ha dcuffed and coukd ove but didn't he kept sat down.

Spencer decis to take a different approach, he reaches into his pocket and takes out a pack of cards.

"Mind if I play a game of solitaire?" Spencer asked, trying to lighten the mood To his surprise, the young man slowly reached out and took the cards. As they played, Spencer asked more questions, trying to get some information about the crime and the drug scene in the area.

As he played Y/N became a little more reaced but was still on guard and keeping Spencer at arms lengt.

Y/N still didn't reveal much, but Spencer could tell he was holding back. He also noticed the subtle tremors in Y/Ns hands and the needle marks on his arm.

He soon realized that Y/N was not the unsub, but rather a lost soul struggling with addiction and trauma, this brought him back to when he was addicted to delaudid.

After a few games Y/N began opening up about what he sawast night, he told him everything he remembered, this helped the team alot tk catch the bastard.

Throughout the case Without judgment, Spencer offered to help Y/N get clean and get out of the dangerous world of drugs. With the help of Y/N the team manages to catch the killer sooner than they had hoped.

As the case progressed, Spencer and the H/C teen grew closer. They spent long nights talking and playing cards, and Spencer could see the potential in the young man. He was intelligent and quick-witted, but his addiction was holding him back.

Y/N was also hesitant to trust anyone, but he slowly opened up to Spencer, after having an awful relationship with his bio father seeing him Spencer as a father figure scared him, Spence became more invested in the teens recovery and helping him turn his life around.

With the help of the team, they were able to track down the murder suspect, Y/N even played a crucial role in gathering information, using his 'alley cat attitude' to his advantage.

As the case came to a close, Spencer and Y/N celebrated with a game of cards and a heartfelt conversation. Y/N thanked Spencer for his help and guidance, and Spencer promised to always be there for him.

From that day on, Y/N focused on his recovery with the support of his new family at the BAU. He still had his struggles, but with Spencer by his side, he knew he could overcome them.

Spencer, on the other hand, learned a valuable lesson about not judging a book by its cover. Y/N may have been mixed up in the drug scene, but he was more than just an addict. He was a survivor.

The end!

Hope you liked this oneshot, slowly getting through these requests. Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count: 1312

[heartfullofleeches]

Wait what exactly is laughingstock's ideal type? For some reason, theyre one of your oc's whose dynamic with their darling im most interested in, he just makes me so curious asto how he'd treat someone lol

There are two types Laughingstock pairs best with in terms of treating them well- shy/timid darlings and friendly/kind darlings. Even back in their days at the circus Laughingstock always tried to bring a smile to the unwilling customers dragged along by family and friends or at least make them comfortable being there. Laughingstock mostly sees a shy darling as someone who's yet to come out of their shell or needing protection from the world.

They try not to lose their temper as easily with them and treats any escape attempts with willful, blissful ignorance (as you'll see with a fic in works)

A friendly darling somewhat matches his energy and he'd take their kindness as attraction/interest, and the go ahead to approach them romantically. Bro would simp like crazy for clown darling. In an ideal world a friendly darling could potentially drag them away from their murderous ways even slightly as Laughingstock wants to be the best version of themselves they can be to make darling happy/their laughter/general presence draws them from craving the attention of those who watch their streams. Above all Laughingstock is a people pleaser and will do whatever it takes to get people to notice them, but one special person is all they need to be happy

[eggtartz]

hello!! how are you? can you do ran and rindou with a s/o who's love language is physical touch and likes to give hugs a lot thank you so much <3

a/n : hello anon thankyou for asking <3 im doing fine, i hope you're doing well too anon 💕 thankyou for requesting and enjoy 🫶🏻

ran

ran LOVES IT SO MUCH, he needed to get used to it first though because he was always the one who gave affection, not the other way around

instantly would become very clingy with you and demand cuddles all the time

demands kisses all the time too

watching movies, just waking up, doing the laundry, cooking together you name it ran would DEMAND KISSES AND CUDDLES (he's like woman where's my daily serotonin boost?!)

his favorite part when he comes home exhausted is when he climbs up the bed and you snuggle againts him out of instinct. nuzzled your face on his neck and silently dozed off.

on days off, he would bring you on dates. you were the type to wander off easily so ran had to grip your hand a little bit tighter

you'd two become that one couple that can't keep their hands on each other at carnivals ngl (please don't bring rindou, he'll cringe for life)

coming home after a long day, you'll hug the older haitani from the back and mumbled thank you for the dates

would try to do a lot of stuff that couples do only to fail at it because ran can't keep his hands off you (neither can you)

he would bring you at gang meetings sometimes, you two just hugging at the lobby shamelessly flirting with each other (are the other members surprised? no, they are not)

rindou

having a brother like ran, he was used to someone being touchy with him

however you were the only one that got that treatment BACK

he loves when you kisses his forehead every morning, kisses the side of his lips every time he needs to attend meetings

(he would be reluctant to leave so you need to convince him to leave now)

he's used to this one thing you like to do with him : launching your body at him as soon as he is home, he would gladly catch you and hold you tight in a hug

one more thing which is a habit of yours is tracing his tattoos whenever he displays it (you can't help it, the ink that cover half of his abdomen look really pretty)

have a special night once a week where you two turn on some slow music and dance to it. his hand on your hips, yours on his chest while the other hand intertwined.

his face resting at the crook of your neck while mumbling sweet words while your hand gripped his hands tighter, unwilling to let go of his warmness. unwilling to give up his touch and (you will) always lean on his touch

you like to climb on his lap while watching tv and sleep there occasionally

sometimes rindou woke up really early to hit the gyms but while getting ready in the bathroom, you'd come and tangle your limbs around him to stop him. (you did it while being so sleepy too, eyes not even opened yet)

he'd carry you back to the bed, promising he'll come back soon and kiss you goodbye while you snuggle to his space on the bed, longing for his scent

[robininthelabyrinth]

i racked my brains while prompts were open but only thought of something at midnight so, as a long time reader, thank you so so much for your fuck i missed it caveat!! so: i really enjoyed your nhs with a twin sister oneshot, and i love the idea of additional sibling aus since this series's sibling relationships are so compelling and good. therefore my prompt is, what if jin zixuan had a twin? im thinking sister but i defer to your inspiration :)

ao3

They weren’t really encouraged to spend time together anymore.

It’d been different when they were children: back then, it had been a matter of pride to show them off. Dragon and phoenix twins were said to be good luck, so their father liked to point to them together, testament to the virility of the father to have son and daughter both at once; meanwhile, their mother liked dressing them up in matching outfits, each one more glamorous than the next.

Their participation in these events was both mandatory, in that they couldn’t leave, and unnecessary, in that they themselves as people weren’t required in any way. They just had to stand there.

They just had to exist.

Back then, they’d thought that it was all right – they might be uncomfortable in their scratchy too-glitzy clothing, but they weren’t alone. They had each other.

And then they got older.

First it was their classes that divided them. Both of them learned to cultivate, but Jin Zixuan was taught the sword and strategy while Jin Xingyin learned how to arrange flowers and manage dinner parties. It was obnoxious, but tolerable…right up until it wasn’t.

“Men and women shouldn’t be too close,” they were told, and never mind their protests that they weren’t men and women but siblings.

“A little girl like that will just spoil all your fun,” Jin Zixuan’s father told him.

“An unsupervised young man can’t be allowed near your girl friends,” Jin Xingyin’s mother sniffed.

“You’d better not have any wayward thoughts about your sister,” Jin Zixuan’s mother scolded him.

“You’re getting more beautiful by the year,” Jin Xingyin’s father told her, playing with a strand of her hair. “You shouldn’t be letting yourself be seen by other men. You never know, after all…anyway, I have plans for you. I won’t have them ruined.”

“Plans?” Jin Zixuan asked when he and his sister huddled together late at night, having slipped out of their rooms, barefoot and without their swords, having edged dangerously along their balconies to meet in the middle. “What plans?”

“He’s going to marry me off to someone, obviously,” Jin Xingyin said. “Don’t you listen to what Mother says?”

“She doesn’t talk to me about any of that,” he objected, feeling obscurely betrayed: was this what his father was talking about when he said that women held their own mysterious counsels to which no man was welcome? “It’s not like there’s any mystery about who I’m going to marry – it’ll be what’s-her-name, the Jiang girl. That’s been agreed on for years.”

“I can’t believe you don’t even know her name. What type of suitor are you?”

“The unwilling type. I don’t know anything about her!”

“She doesn’t know anything about you, either,” she pointed out. “And she’s the one who’s going to have to move all the way here, spend the rest of her life somewhere strange.”

Jin Zixuan blinked. “What’s so impressive about that? That’s what women do when they marry.”

His sister slapped him.

“Hey! Why’d you do that?!”

“Because Mother can’t do it to Father, not really, and if you keep going the way you are, you’ll end up just like him. So why shouldn’t I do it now while I can?”

“I’m not!” Jin Zixuan yelped, then blushed when she shushed him. “I’m not. I wouldn’t be. Mother would kill me…I’m not, am I?”

“Young Mistress Jiang is going to marry you, leave her home and her family for you. It wasn’t your choice, but it’s not hers, either. What sort of home is she going to find with you? One where you’re resentful that she even exists, or one where you welcome her?” Jin Xingyin bit her lip. “What type of home will I find, with whoever Father decides to marry me off to?”

Jin Zixuan’s hands curled into fists. He wanted to hurt whoever had made his sister look like that.

Except it had been him, he supposed. Him, for not realizing how afraid she was, to be forced to marry someone as callous as he’d been acting…he could improve his own behavior, but it wouldn’t help her, not really. He could be the finest husband Young Mistress Jiang could hope for, and it wouldn’t be worth a damn, because his father wouldn’t bother making two alliances with the same sect – Jin Xingyin would be going away to the Cloud Recesses, where the Lan didn’t even let women live in the same area as the men, or maybe to the Unclean Realm, where women had no choice but to train right alongside all the men…or even, maybe, to the Wen sect, where – where –

Everyone knew what they said about the Wen sect, and in the Jin sect they knew a little more, with their father being as friendly with Wen Ruohan as he was. There were as many scurrilous rumors about the Wen sect leader as there were about the Jin sect leader, excepting only that the rumors were about torture instead of sex, and the ones about their father, they knew, were all true. Even the ones that people didn’t dare to say out loud in public, just in whispers at home – those were also true.

The ones no one dared say at all were true, too.

If that was the case, then how bad must the Wen sect really be?

Jin Zixuan felt the blood drain out of his face. “He wouldn’t,” he said, except he knew that his father would. And his sister knew it, too – he could tell from her expression. “Fine. I wouldn’t.”

“So what?” she asked, arching her eyebrows just like their mother. “You can’t arrange my marriage. You’re not my father. You’re not even sect leader, just the heir. As long as he’s alive, you have no way to stop him.”

He stared at her.

A few moments later, her face paled, too, as she realized what she had just said.

“...you can’t,” she said.

“You can’t marry out to the Wen sect, either,” he pointed out. “‘A girl married out is like water spilling out’ – it can’t be brought back in, not unless they choose divorce, and that’s their decision, not yours. If you’re gone, you’re gone. You can’t come back.”

The dead couldn’t come back, either.

“If you were sect leader, you could choose how strictly to enforce the rule about men and women,” Jin Xingyin said thoughtfully, and her hand was cold in his. “But you wouldn’t be sect leader if anyone ever found out about…well. We’d need to be terribly clever about it.”

Jin Zixuan was not naturally clever, he knew, but he wasn’t actually stupid. If he set his mind to something, he could tap into the streak of cunning he’d inherited from both parents, the one he usually spent his time deliberately ignoring because he didn’t want to be anything like either of them.

Perhaps he’d never had a choice in it after all.

“I’ll find a way,” he said, and squeezed her hand. “Give me time.”

She did, and he did.

A few years later:

“Welcome to Jinlin Tower,” Jin Zixuan said, and smiled at the dusty over-awed boy only a few years older than him, whose wide eyes couldn’t hide the calculations churning in the brain behind them. “What did you say your name was again?”

The boy saluted.

“My name is Meng Yao,” he said carefully. “I was told that – the sect leader here –”

“Things have changed,” Jin Zixuan said, and at a gesture, his sister stepped forward with a smile. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t honor any commitments he may have made. Why don’t you follow my sister? She’ll find somewhere for you.”

He didn’t know if Jiang Yanli would find him a good husband when she arrived, not the way he now was, with his hands stained with blood and his mind forced through desperation into the cleverness and cunning that he’d never wanted. They had to have the alliance with the Jiang sect, especially now that his father had so prematurely died, but no matter what, he would never force Jiang Yanli to accept him, not with the example of his sister before him.

It was a good thing, Jin Zixuan supposed, that he would be able to offer her a pick of substitutes.

[nahoney22]

Congrats on 3000 followers! That is TRULY amazing, and you deserve every single one, your work is amazing ❤️ IM A FAN GIRL LOL

Can I please request a “if you keep looking at me like that, i’m not responsible for what happens next.” with Jesse? That bald tattooed head fkn flusters me to high heaven. NSFW, as smutty as you feel, fem reader pls. THANK YOU ILYSM 💕💕💕💕💕💕

3000 Prompt List Celebration

Jesse X F!Reader

word count: 1.5k

NSFW

prompt:

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not responsible for what happens next.”

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only! Established relationship with a female reader. Consensual smut, p in v sex, cunnilingus, praises, dirty talk, swearing, light dom!Jesse with a slightly sub reader. Reader wearing stockings and lingerie. Couch sex. Not proofread.

authors note: sorry for the wait lovely. Hope this is fine. Love you @starqueensthings 💜

As you lay on the plush couch in your apartment, your fingers lightly brushing against the silky fabric of your stockings, you fixate your gaze on the door before you. The anticipation swells within you; he's finally back, and you have a delightful surprise in store for him.

In the lead-up to this moment, your playful and flirtatious messages have been exchanged back and forth, igniting a fiery excitement that burns between the two of you for the last week.

Knowing he'll be home any minute, you slip into something more enticing and comfortable, a mesmerising lingerie set that Jesse had once admired while window shopping with you several months ago. His words of admiration echoed in your mind, inspiring you to go all out for his return.

As you listen intently, the sound of approaching footsteps quickens your heartbeat. The familiar beep signals his arrival, and the door opens with a soft hiss, revealing your significant other standing there, taking in the sight before him. His eyes widened with desire and passion, the room suddenly charged a certain type of energy.

"Well, well, don't I feel like the luckiest man alive?" he exclaims, his voice tinged with desire and appreciation.

A mischievous smirk graces your lips as you playfully tilt your head, feigning innocence. “What makes you say that, Trooper?”

He corrects you with a hint of arrogance, but you find it utterly captivating. “That’s Arc Trooper to you.” He says proudly, chest slightly puffing out.

“My apologies, Arc Trooper.” Your voice is laced with a sultry tone and you grin internally as he gulps upon your words.

Folding his arms over his chest, he comes closer until he stands just a few feet away, his intense gaze roaming from the top of your head to your toes. He struggles to stifle a low moan that threatens to escape his throat, the sight before him rendering him nearly powerless. "If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not responsible for what happens next."

Meeting his hungry eyes with your own, filled with desire and a touch of mischievousness, you reply, “Now, why would that ever be a bad thing?” Unwilling to back down from the teasing exchange, you decide to take matters into your own hands—or, more accurately, onto your knees. Slowly, you shift position, facing him with an alluring intensity, your eyes conveying a magnetic message of desire. The tension in the room heightens as you give him a tantalising show, your every movement calculated to captivate him.

As he steps closer, his tall figure now looms over you. He looks into your eyes with a heavy-lidded gaze. With a gloved hand, he gently strokes your cheek, his thumb moving to trace over your lower lip, hinting at his playful mood. "You've been quite a naughty girl," he says teasingly.

You bat your eyelashes, playfully responding to his comment. Unable to resist, you lean in slightly, your lips softly meeting his thumb, giving it a tender, affectionate kiss before encasing it between your lips and very gently suck. He lets out a deep, contented sigh, his emotions evident in the sound.

"I've missed you so much," you confess once you pull back, your voice filled with genuine affection and longing.

"Not as much as I missed you," he admits with a hint of longing. Leaning down, he captures your lips in a passionate and intense kiss. His touch is firm but tender. Deep and fiery. He doesn’t even shy away when it comes to slipping his tongue into your mouth, parting your lips which elicits a grateful moan from you.

Your hands rest on his strong stomach as you both revel in the moment. "You’re so,” he now murmurs against your jaw, placing affectionate kisses along its curve, “perfect.”

The sensation sends shivers down your spine, causing you to lean back against the couch, caught up in the thrill of his affectionate advances.

His lips lower and lower until he finds that sweet spot against your neck, licking and gently nipping at your skin that makes you giggle his name, your panties getting increasingly wetter with every touch. “Needy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Jesse.” You rasp, eyes closing as he cups one of your breasts above the silky fabric, feeling your stiffening nipples.

Soon, he lowered himself so low as he trailed his wanting lips all over your body that he was on the floor and conveniently between your legs. His smirk is dangerous as he eyes you up like a meal, fingers caressing your thighs. “Can’t believe you’re all dressed up like this for me. You look amazing, baby.” He admires almost dreamily that it sends a heat straight to your core.

“Just for you,” you whisper, watching in anticipation as his right hand moves more inwards of your legs, teasing you relentlessly before he uses a single finger to stroke against the now soaked fabric to your panties that makes you jolt in surprise.

“Easy there,” he chuckles at your reaction, brushing over the thin fabric that separates his fingers from your pussy, “I’ll take care of you.”

You chew on your lower lip, your soft sighs of pleasure turning into deep moans as he hooks and pulls your panties to the side already parting your soft folds with his tongue.

Your pelvis involuntarily thrusts into his face, melting as he groans at just the taste of you. His tongue lapped at your cunt like a man starved, full of passion. “You taste so damn good.” You look down at him through watering eyes, seeing his eyes watching you intently as he sucks on your clit making you whine in pleasure.

He grabs your hips, fingers biting into your flesh and brings you closer to him, tongue digging deeper into your sopping core that makes you writhe, panting as he edges you to your climax. “Oh f-fuck, Jesse!”

He tsks against you, vibrations following. “Now that’s some naughty language, babe.” His hands now move to your thighs, keeping them spread as you couldn’t help but close them over his head whenever he hits that perfect spot.

“As much as I want to taste your cum,” he mutters as he pulls away from your clit with a pop that made you mewl and had your head rolling back, “I need to be inside you.”

You watch him start to strip for you, your eyes blown in desire as you take every inch of his gorgeous skin in. Your eyes land on his cock which stands deliciously erect as he shifts you into position on the couch, kneeling himself between your legs. “It’s been a while so I might be rusty,” he chuckles a little nervously but nothing that a quick kiss couldn’t solve.

“I’m sure you’ve still got some fire in you,” you grin against his lips before laying back down, allowing Jesse to press his swollen tip to your entrance.

He lets out a shuddering breath as sinks into you, grunting at your tightness. “That’s right baby, s-so good.” He pulls out before slowly pushing into you again, stretching you up slowly so he didn’t hurt you.

Your head falls against the couch cushion, whimpering in pleasure as he then fully sinks into you, his hand cupping your cheek adoringly as he drags his cock in and out of your flushed pussy.

“You missed my cock filling you up, huh?” He grunts raggedly, watching you writhe in pleasure beneath him as he thrusts in and out of you at a steady rhythm.

“Yes, so much!” You rasp, breathless as you elevate your hips a little, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he buries himself into you and hitting that soft spot within you better.

He sighs, biting his lower lip as his eyes admire your body that was dressed in a lingerie he always wanted to envision you in. “So fucking hot,” he almsot whimpers as he watches the way his cock slides in and out of you all the while you’re watching him in complete awe.

“Yes you are.” You pant which only urges him on, his pace getting faster and harder that has your nails gripping into your couch as he rocks into you, the couch creaking against the floorboards as he pummels into you.

“Not gonna last much longer baby,” he grunts, hand coming down to play and strum with your clit, your pussy clenches against his cock as you too near your high once again.

After a few more pumps and loud moaning that you were certain the neighbors could hear, he pulls out and paints your scanderlu clad body with strings of white, beads of sweat pouring down his forehead and temple. Your orgasm came at the same time, chanting his name until your body went limp as stars blinded your vision.

After a few moments, you sit up and glance at the mess he made on your lingerie and chastise him playfully, “you ruined your present.”

He chuckles, admiring you lovingly and plants a kiss to your lips. “Yes, yes I did.”

Masterlist

Other prompt works

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari i @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad

[just-some-random-blogger]

still not over the fact that all your work is très magnifique 😍 (dont mind me binge reading at 4am)

if i may request, how do you think dream would react when his lover(reader) is very jumpy or easily flinches. we all know morpheus can be rather mysterious-in-the-shadows type and as someone with anxiety i feel like him popping out of no where will just make me jump all the time

Hold My Hand

Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures, your measure for Dream giving you near death experiences involved a very particular accessory.

Word Count: >600

Warnings: some kinky inclinations lol, gender neutral!reader, kitty meow meow dream (real), pouty!dream, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: HHIHIHI IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY FICS ENOUGH TO LOSE SLEEP OVER IT ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BUT ALSO GET SOME SLEEP PLS T_T the gif is how i imagine dream apologizes for scaring you Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

I let out a long, exaggeratedly prolonged, scream when I feel someone come up from behind me in this dead end of the library. It was instantaneous, the hug and the concerned voice that came after.

I mean I really was scared, but still, I was 100% sure I was born dramatic. I heaved heavily as I leaned into the embrace of the being behind me.

Dream cranes his neck down to kiss the side of my neck, "I apologize, my dear," he speaks with genuine guilt, "I was only thinking about how you told me you enjoyed back hugs and I could not help myself."

"It's fine," I sigh deeply, placing the book in my hand back in the shelf.

Dream, although he knew I was not making an attempt to leave him, pulls me back, as if unwilling to have a fraction of space between us. I chuckle, "alright, alright, gimme a sec, geez."

Once the book is back in its spot, I twist in his arms and position myself into a comfortable embrace, cheek pressing against his chest.

Dream tightens his hold, relaxing against me; his previous guilt of rousing my anxiousness finally seemed to leave him.

I can't help but chuckle when he nuzzles against my head, "rough day?"

He hums, "everything is suddenly bearable after I feel your touch."

I smile against him and pull back to show this. In contrast, he has his pouty lips curved down and it makes my brows raise, "what's wrong, Dreamy?"

"I do not enjoy the fact I keep agitating you when I phase to your side."

I snort, "well, actually," I pull away from him, "I may have a solution."

His brows furrow, appalled by the fact I was pulling away from him. His frown deepens.

"Dream," I chuckle, "I'm literally still right here, please, I just need to get something out of my pocket."

A line between his brows forms. He barely loosens his tight grip on me. I cannot help but press my lips as I look at him in amused annoyance.

"Here," I say, as a pull out a tiny choker and dangle it between our faces.

Dream averts his attention, furrowed brows raising.

"I had a cat once," I start, undoing the clasp of the necklace, "she was so sneaky, my family did not know peace until we gave her a bell."

I bring my hand over his shoulders, placing the black and gold thing around his neck. I rise to my toes and look over Dream's shoulder when I do this. Once I am done securing it, I release a sigh and fall flat on my feet. "Now," I smile, grabbing his cheeks, "I might find peace with your bell."

Dream looks down at the choker. I grab the bell at the center so that he could see it, but I'm unsure he does.

His hands travel up my back as he averts his gaze back upon me, "if it can rid of my jump scare tendencies-"

I snort at his use of my term.

"- then I am happy to wear it."

I break into a fit of giggles when he leans in and peppers my face with kisses. As innocent as those were, my breathing begins to grow heavy when his lips trail down my neck, "Dream... Lucienne might catch us again..."

Meanwhile Matthew's head cocks from side to side as he looks for bright ringing sound he could not for the life of him find. "Lucienne, am I going bonkers, or do you also hear that bell ringing?" "I thought you were already bonkers." "Lucienne, I'm serious-" Matthew's beak stays open when he sees Dream pass by out of nowhere. "D-Did you- did he- is he wearing a collar?" "Matthew, Dream is a consenting adult-- in fact, he's much older than that." Safe to say, the sound of the bell was so much more hard to ignore now.

[hero-israel]

I’m Afro-Indigenous as well as a mix of other things including NA Jewish and Palestinian. So I have a somewhat personal anecdote that could explain a little more into why Palestinian-Americans (imo MOST, not just some) are so unwilling to recognize indigenous American sovereignty and the (still ongoing) colonialism of our land.

The not-so-short answer is: they just don’t want to take accountability for their own actions and engagement in settler-colonialism, and they realize how hypocritical they sound when they screech at Jews being settled-colonizers while simultaneously doing the same thing. Sometimes they’ll try to defend this by saying they get a pass because the only reason they are on this land is because the evil Jews kicked them out. But that quickly falls apart when you remember that 1) majority of them are BORN Americans and not refugees (despite them claiming so), and 2) even if their parents or grandparents were actual refugees, being a refugee or fleeing persecution doesn’t stop you from being a settler-colonizer (this coming from their own logic that they use against Jews escaping persecution in Arab countries and after the Holocaust btw). So they are able to ignore their hypocrisy and cognitive dissonance by saying ‘we’ll colonization is done, so that means we aren’t hypocrites for willingly engaging in the same type of oppression we claim to be against!” and then they turn around a buy a house on indigenous native land while doing nothing to show solidarity to Native Americans other than to appropriate our Land Back movement while doing nothing to help us… get our land back. Im thanking I’ve met some Palestinians who are actually active in supporting Native sovereignty and have done tons of work to support Land Back, but the majority of Palestinians do not, whether they are leftist, liberals, islamists or communists.

And yes, many Jews are also not supporting Natives either. And that’s a problem. But Jews also don’t make a habit of saying people should be killed for being settler-colonists while simultaneously being one themselves. And their is much more similarities between Native American history, oppression and goals of sovereignty than Palestinian ones (despite what many claim). NTM the rhetoric Oalestinians use literally being the same rhetoric used to harm Natives. One off the top of my head is “the Jews / Natives were all died off/were expelled so long ago so it’s okay for us to keep their lands” which is super common and is literally the same rhetoric behind why the US considers multiple tribes extinct despite living people being apart of them, and why most Palestinians still refuse to even accept the fact that Jews still continued living in Israel and Judah even after they were expelled and colonized, just as a minority.

This is also where you get another one, the “they were colonized/expelled too long ago for it to matter today and others moved into the land so it’ll be unfair if we give it back to them (despite unjustly settling on and taking it in the first place)” which is one of the biggest reasonings anti-Indigenous people use to defend their opinion that Natives shouldn’t have sovereignty.

Anyway, the whole point is that they are essentially hypocrites and anti-Indigenous. They may use indigeneity politics to defend themselves, but that’s all they care about. I gave up trying to have any kind of support from the Palestinian movement here in the US when I went to a activist organization/meeting and had many of them say I was a zionist (before I even was one) for simply saying it’s not right of them to ignore Indigenous Americans while appropriating a movement (Land Back) created by us.

It actually hurts me a lot that they’re like this. I grew up closest to my moms side, which is the Afro-Indigenous and Palestinian side. It was even until last year when I began reconnecting to my Jewish family and ancestry (my dad was North African Jewish and Bengali-British) since it came from my dad and he died when I was young, so I had no one to teach me about it. So I grew up around Palestinians, so it’s really weird to be disconnected from that side and community now. But I can’t stand the anti-indigeneity and hypocrisy. I do the same with Jews and non-Natives and non-Blacks too, so I’m not a hypocrite, but thankfully it hasn’t happened that much in the Jewish community for me to fully disconnect myself. I literally went to a high school created by Jewish people (literally majority of the faculty were Jewish and the people behind the creation of it were all Jewish iirc) to teach social justice, and for the full four years they included Native American focused curriculum and took us to protests, powwows, indigenous activist groups and so on. So yea they’re much better at this whole solidarity thing 🤷🏾‍♀️

Thank you for that very detailed and personal insight. I am sorry that you saw firsthand what poor "allies" so many Palestiners tend to be, as they relentlessly redirect all attention from other causes (i.e. immigration, police brutality, climate change, Anne Frank...) to themselves.

[xlovely-daydreamsx]

Ace Of Hearts (Yandere!Zhongli x Reader x Yandere!Childe) Ch. 2

Summary: You wake up in an unfamiliar place; Childe makes a deal.

Notes: this has been done for like a week, but i wasnt sure if i liked it... i hope you guys enjoy it though! and sorry for any sloppiness- im posting this on tumblr mobile for once

Warnings: yandere, drugging, kidnapping, dark themes, a/b/o dynamics

The readhead approached Zhongli with a bit of a sneer; While both men were near the same height, Diluc had a domineering presence about him. His suit fit perfectly against his broad shoulders and brutish figure, flexing as his hand outstretched toward the other man.

"I suppose the best man won, as they say..." They shook, neither of the two smiling, "I hope you have fun... breaking her in. Something like that needs a strong hand." With one last tight squeeze, Diluc lets go and straightens his cuff links.

"Good evening, ladies," he says with a slight bow, taking his leave through the large auction hall doors.

"He's quite the hunk, isn't he?" Yae chuckled, but all Zhongli could muster was a scoff.

"Something of the sort..." He replies before taking his own leave, following the crowd out of the hall.

It's only a few days before Childe shows up at his door.

"When they told me it was you who had bought her, I could hardly believe it!" His nagging starts immediately, walking into Zhongli's foyer shamelessly.

"Where's the girl?"

"In the truck downstairs- the boys are gonna bring her up." Childe, seemingly having no shame, scopes out the room in awe, letting out a low whistle.

"Then what exactly are you doing in my house?" Childe pouts.

"What, I can't visit a friend?"

"Is that what we are?" Zhongli, arms crossed, stares at the redhead.

"Well, I would hope so..." Childe sighs, walking farther into the home and leaving Zhongli no choice but to follow.

"You know, I picked her out myself. I really wanted to keep her, even, but the boss said she was too valuable not to sell." He finds his way into the kitchen and sets himself down at the small granite bar. The walls of the kitchen were dark blue, dark wood paneling covering part of it and casting a somber mood over the room.

"I sure paid a fortune for her."

"And that I thank you for," Childe watches as Zhongli pulls out two crystalline drinking glasses and a bottle of whiskey from under the bar, pouring a finger for each of them. "I'm getting a really good paycheck this week."

"Glad I could be of service. Now, why are you really bothering me?"

The younger man shoots his drink back without a wince, smacking it back down onto the counter with a resounding clack.

"It would be bad for our image if people found out we were selling... unlicensed goods, for lack of a better term. So I want to help you train your new toy- it'll be beneficial for both of us." His finger intetwine themselves under his chin, that dazzling smile taking up most of his face.

"I'm not sure how your hands being on my property is beneficial to me."

"Not only does it make my business look bad, but it makes yours look worse if we have unwilling participants, right? Word spreads fast around these types of groups, and while some people might commend you for taking the 'traditional' approach, other people tend to find that very... illegal and immoral."

"She signed a contract, didn't she?"

"Well yes, but-"

"Then it's not a problem. Tell your men to put her in the upstairs bedroom." And with that, Zhongli finishes his drink, hoping to exit this conversation as quickly as possible.

Unluckily for him, Childe is incapable of giving up.

He follows behind him swiftly, the pair watching as Childe's men bring in what appears to be a large cage, seemingly for a dog. A sheet is draped overtop of it.

"Please, Morax- a favor for a friend."

Zhongli just sighs as they carry it up the staircase.

"I'll think about it."

That's all the confirmation Childe needs- his eyes light up, and his smile is brigher than ever.

"You won't regret this." He says, but Zhongli really, really thinks he will.

You don't know how long it's been until you fully regain your consciousness, but you feel like you have the worst hangover of your life. Your body aches and your head is pounding, but that's not exactly what catches your attention. What does, however, is the room you're in.

It's huge. Pristine, white walls and a large bay window draw your eyes, almost distracting you from the bed you had apparently been sleeping on.

And God damnnit, if it wasn't the comfiest bed you had ever been on. The pillows and comfortor were all white as well, and you wonder for a moment if maybe you had died and went to heaven.

You push yourself off to the side of your plush oasis, feeling like a baby deer as your legs wobble underneath you.

Movement makes you feel even sicker, and you can't help it when your legs fall underneath you, finding yourself on the cool, hardwood floor.

How the hell did you end up here?

Maybe you should've listened to your mother, known that you would never be smart enough to make it on your own- maybe if you had stayed at home, you wouldn't be caught up in this mess. Maybe you'd be okay.

But you're not okay, and you're stuck here- wherever here is- and you have to figure it out on your own, the way you've always done things.

It's a minute before you feel certain enough that you won't puke to try again. It's on unsteady legs and with a throbbing head that you make your way to the door, finding it unlocked, to your suprise.

If you were kidnapped, or, or sold, as you recall with a twinge of dispair, why would they keep the doors open?

You step out of the room cautiously, taking in your surroudings as well as you can in your disoriented state.

You had never cared much for princesses and such as a kid, but the scene in front of you looked like it was pulled straight from Cinderella's Castle. A grandiose staircase stands in front of you, a large chandelier illuminating the steps.

The walls around you are covered in yellow floral wallpaper, wooden trim, and large portraits of people you certainly wouldn't recognize.

You falter looking at them, wondering if your shaky legs could possibly carry you safely down them, but what other choice do you have?

None of these other hallways will lead you out of... wherever this is, you assume, unless you want to jump out of a window. So you take your chance, clutching the polished wood of the railing and slowly but surely making your way down.

Those stairs lead you into a foyer, large wooden doors in front of you and an expanse of shiny white tiles under your feet. A colorful bouquet of flowers sits on a table in the middle of the room, and two corridors head off to either side. You barely give them a glance before you shoot towards those doors, wondering partly what you'd do once you're out- you have no idea where you are or what could be on the other side- but it's the only choice you have.

You pull them hard, to no avail. They shake and shudder as you struggle, tears welling in your eyes. You're tired and sick and you just want to go home.

"I didn't expect you'd wake up so soon," You flich away from the door, turning swiftly on your heel to face the voice.

He's tall, you realize- much taller than you and handsome as you've ever seen; a domineering stare adorns his face. His suit is crisp against his strong arms and slim figure, and you wonder how silly you look in comparison to him, disheveled and small and insignificant.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, taking a long stride towards you, hands folded neatly behind his back.

You scramble away from him, your shaky legs faltering under you once again, causing you to fall on your ass in front of the man. He has the gall to frown at that, and offers you a hand that you do your best to shimmy away from.

"Where am I? Please let me go,"

"You're in the Morax estate, and subsequently your new home. Now let me help you off the floor." He reaches his hand out again, but another scurry and you're far enough from him that he huffs and retracts it.

"It's uncivilized to crawl around on the floor, you know?" You could almost laugh at that.

"Who gives a shit? You kidnapped me!"

"You weren't kidnapped; I bought you. You signed a contract, so you'll make do on it."

"Bullshit! I wouldn't- I would never do that." Part of you knows you would never, but the other part wonders what could have happened in the time you can't seem to remember, memories covered in a fog.

"I can show it to you, if you'd like, but you'll have to get off the floor." You scoff, but make your way up on unstable legs. What other choice do you have? This man seems to be your only viable option at the moment, save for jumping out of the first window you can find.

"And please try to calm yourself- I assure you I mean no harm, but your smell is... distressing."

Your hand instinctively reaches for your neck, checking for a bite or a patch and, with a sigh of relief, you find nothing out of the ordinary.

"I'm... scared," you say, rubbing at your scent glands, "I can't help it."

"You've got nothing to be afraid of, dear- I'm much less tempermental than your other option." You follow him down the corridor and into a kitchen, beautiful and probably more expensive than the entirety of your apartment building.

"My other option?" He gives you a side glance,

"Another bidder- a callous, unkind man with a love for little things like you; he has a surplus of Omega maids loitering around his estate, and he would've loved to add another."

That... definitely did not sound like a good alternative. But what do you know, right? You've been conscious for a grand total of ten minutes, and this guy could be lying to you. You could follow him into some secret sex dungeon and be absolutely clueless, because you've happened to make every bad mistake possible in the shortest amount of time.

You hate to admit it, but you're starting to think your mother was right.

"Please, have a seat." He gestures you to take a seat at a granite island, placed neatly in the center of the kitchen. The place is... nice. Ridiculously so- a palace to the likes of you, and you can only wonder what a man like this would want with a girl like you.

You eye the spot warily for a momenr before taking it, your body stiff and unnatural feeling. You wonder for a moment if you could be dreaming.

"I was speaking with your handler not too long ago, so I happen to have your contract on hand." He pushes a file toward you from the other side of the island, neat and tidy in a tan folder.

You flip it open, your eyes scanning the tiny, dark lines of text desperately. With the way your head was still pounding, you could barely make out anything of substance, and you pushed it back towards him with a sigh.

"Show me where it says anything important." The man doesn't falter for a moment, flipping through the pages until he finds his destination, and just as easily flips it toward you once more, fingers deftly dancing over the lines.

"Right here."

You scan it in disbelief.

'Servitude.'

'Possession.'

'Unfit for self-care.'

'Mentally incapacitated.'

"This has got to be a joke. This... I wouldn't sign this!" You try your best to remember the hours, days before you got here- piece together your blurred memories and find anything that could explain your situation.

You remember a stage.

Lights so blinding, crowd full of watchful, judging eyes. You remember the warm hands on your body, the sweat on the back of your neck.

And you remember the dress.

It had felt nice against your skin, tight but oh-so soft and lazily elegant. You remember how pretty you felt.

You remember the woman who gave it to you.

And finally, you remember the contract.

"I can find the page with your signature, if you'd like."

You place your head against the cool surface of the island, knotting your hands into your hair as your head throbs once again. You remember it all now- far too much for someone like you to bear, and yet it's made its home at the front of your psyce.

Your tears drip straight down, pooling on the shiny granite.

You realize morbidly that it sparkles.

He already loves the sound of your voice. Of course, he would've preferred to hear it in better circumstances, without the pained undertones and harsh words, but he's an understanding man- he knows you just need time to come around to it.

And your smell, oh, god, your smell- overwhelming and intoxicating, flooding his senses and reminding him of instincts he had often forgotten he had.

It hurt him to think that he was the cause of your fears, and subsequently the sour notes in your scent, the break in your voice, and the tears in your eyes that he wished to wipe away.

He had never seen such a reaction from an Omega; it was commonplace for the needlessly wealthy to spend their money on pretty little things like you, and most Omegas would consider it a privilege to be picked by someone of Zhongli's stature.

Change can be difficult for some; starting a new life in an unfamiliar place can be disorienting, so he's sure that's all it is- he's sure it's not him.

Your hair looks so soft as it pools against the counter, obscuring your face.

He had always considered himself a man of patience and poise. He had never had trouble with self control, always being able to keep his calm, but now he wanted nothing more than to break his composure and reach out to you. He imagined running his hands through your hair, cupping your rosy cheeks and staring into your tear-pooled eyes.

But he wouldn't, because he knows you need it more than he does.

You can repay his kindness someday, he supposes.

Taglist: @lumid0rk

[fionajames]

hiya (((: if you feel like it can i request a bit of writing? kix and/or dogma centric preferably and including headaches? (my migraine/headaches have been coming back with full force lately lol) thank you so much ((((: (ps. if you'd like some writing in return i am more than happy to provide, just drop an ask)

headache - kix

THANK YOU

THANK YOU

THANK YOU

FOR REQUESTING

Im sorry your feeling sick/bad, and i wish you a speedy recovery! hope you get better soon!

one comforting kix for you!

also, i realised half-way through writing that i wasnt sure if you wanted platonic or romantic, so i made it kind of both/can be read as either soft romantic or affectionate platonic.

as for something in return, more requests! im extremely thankful you've requested and i love doing requests so imma beg for more! more! more!

enjoy!

You groan as your hand shoots to rest on your forehead, fingertips digging into your scalp sharply in an attempt to divert your attention from your headache to a different pain. This headache had been coming and going for weeks, one day nonexistent and then next hitting you harder than a speeder on full throttle.

And Maker, they hurt.

“You really need to go to Kix,” Dogma repeated, glancing up at you from his datapad. You shot him a glare and all he did was shrug in response.

“Unhelpful,” you mutter playfully, standing up and moving to the door. Biting your lip you shuffle down the numerous hallways to the medcentre. As a Republic informant - you distaste the label of ‘spy’ as people always considered them untrustworthy and loyal, which you were neither - you worked with the 501st quite a bit, and had taken a liking to a certain medic. He often tended to your wounds - which was rather a lot. 

“Back again?” Kix called from his desk as you entered, smiling sheepishly. Nodding, you watched him stand and guide you to a bed gently, smiling fondly. “What happened this time?”

“Headache, might be a migraine,” you explained as he nodded, gathering equipment. Kix ever-so-gently grasped your chin in his hand to study your neck, head and jaw. His gold eyes scanned your skin for a minute, moving your head to help him see. 

“No visual symptoms” he concluded, giving you a smile and a very soft kiss to the forehead. “Alright, can you read this?” Kix asked, holding his datapad a metre away from you. You read out the contents quickly, before he moved further back and switched to a new page. Frowning, you shook your head. “Bad sight.”

“Really, doc?” You chuckled as he nodded, sending you a playful smirk. 

“Yep!” Kix replied, then suddenly he tossed a scrunched up piece of flimsi at your head. You flinched as it hit you in the forehead, body unwilling to recognise it. “And bad reflexes.”

“Is that really a migraine symptom?”

“A hundred percent, Cyar’ika.” You rolled your eyes as he fiddled with his equipment more, and typed something into the datapad. “Alright, we’re gonna do an MRI scan.” Reluctantly, you did as told and let him do the scan, and then he checked your blood pressure. 

“So?” You asked, rolling your eyes as Kix continued to mess with the scan, still not offering a response.

“Yes, Cyar’ika, you’ve got a migraine,” he responded patiently, wheeling his chair over to the bed. Kix offered you a small container of pills and explained when you should be taking them as you took two, only half-listening. He’d remind you later anyway. “You okay?”

“Hmm?” You mumble, turning to him and up from your cup of water. Kix offered a soft, loving smile and reached forward, running a hand through your hair fondly and massaging your scalp.

“Is that helping?” He whispered when you crawled closer and closed your eyes, a content smile playing on your lips. 

“Yeah,” was your whispered response, and he chuckled. Kix clambered onto the bed beside you and you turned to rest your chin on his shoulder, his hands still playing with your eye. As the soothing action continued, the lulling coo of sleep grew louder.

“Go to sleep, Cyar’ika,” he murmured lovingly as the warm blanket of darkness was draped over you, his presence becoming the softest guide into deep sleep.

i hope you enjoyed!

get better soon!

(:

[sadlovefeelss]

Reworking a previous post a lil

Cw: unwilling pet, kidnapping, implied yandere, obsessive behavior, stalking

>>Walking around shops and stores, u meet a nice person, you think their nice. In reality this person wants you bad, you dont go out much and its getting harder to watch you from afar. And here you are out in the open, still so closed off and quiet, but outside and ready for anyones eyes. They hate it, so its now or never. One moment you want to finally open up a little, ‘live life’ next your… back at…. A house? Itll be your home soon. They hated you being home 24/7 and never getting to see you, now u get to be at home 24/7… its just a newer home, a better home, your home.

Stepping into the mall, the cool air from the sliding doors relaxing your tense shoulders. You were anxious, the people in your work and personal life have been stressing you out again. Coworkers dumping their own workload onto you, asking you to fill in shifts at work for them, and rude family members asking for spare money that you REALLY didn’t need to be giving up this day in age. Normally you would be relaxing at home, and you would have. Could already feel the rest of your tension decreasing at the thought of being in your own home again. But you need new work clothes and, hopefully, could spend some money on something nice for yourself. Hard-work and all that.

Walking through the mall was another experience, walking past dozens opon dozens of shops was a little nerve racking. You quickly find the clothing store you need and bought your work clothes, and like a blessing, you had some spare change left over. Turning out of the shop, glancing at near buy shops to see if anything peaked your interest. Someone had bumped into your side, …accidentally to you. Its… someone kinda hot too…. Your cheeks felt burnt, startled from the abrupt impact. You, thrown out of your element once more, were about to start stuttering apologies, luckily he spoke up.

“Hey… im really sorry ‘bout that, didnt see you walking out,” smiling brightly, you dont see how intense his eyes felt on you. Your own humiliation more intense to you.

“YES! Ye im really sorry… i wasnt looking either. Im really sorry ill pay attention next time..” u spoke, ready to speed walk out the store, back home, back in bed, and somewhere safe.

“Hey wait,” he grabbed your arm. “You like books?” Staring at you again, this time more up-close.

“…Books?” ‘Why …Why was he talking about books?’ That didnt matter to him, He got your attention, that mattered.

“Yea! Sorry you just look the book type, …you wanna walk over their together? Your pretty cute i wouldn’t mind.” His voice had a teasing tilt, and after some more persistence from him, he managed to get you moving again. ‘He was nice? He seemed trustable?’ Unbeknownst to you, you were walking away, away from the book store and shops, away from bystanders, away from any camera view. You were distracted telling him ur hobbies, he didn’t need to listen, he already knew you. So just keep following him.

Waking up you…

‘Wait…why are you waking up? You never fell asleep…?’ No matter the dread creeping in your thoughts you didn’t move, you body heavy and limbs achey. Just lying their trying to remember. What happened? And almost like he knew, you heard a door unlock and open. You try and push yourself up and just face plant back into something soft.

“Aww,” he giggled condescendingly at your display. He wanted a couple hours to himself and ur sleeping body after he brought you back home! He always wanted to see you up-close, all your details. Every pore, hair, mole, every detail he could learn. He wanted to find and pick apart each fiber and cell. And now after admiring you, seeing you in such weak state, he was feeling some… kind of way about it. Your arms struggling to hold yourself up, your head stuck in your pillow, your legs tucked under you with your ass perked out. He walks over to you finally. His hand gently sets itself on one of your cheeks, but starts to massage at your ass, almost…encouragingly.

“You want some help, honey? You need my help? Its ok, im here for you now.”

[douieyoung]

perpetuity ;; kim doyoung

-- "it's hard working without someone like you, it's hard without you."

@ intro.

kdy x reader kdy as Doyoung A. Kendro reader as April U. Yang -> substitute your own name if you prefer! I don't like using [y/n] or [name] ^^

@ desc.

something seems to have changed in the mundane life of two dull coworkers, April U. Yang and Doyoung A. Kendro who always seem to be down each other's throats.

@ soundtrack

tadhana oo

@ small notes

small au about finding each other.. in each other! non-idol au, work au, names + some aspects of the story have slight fil/chi inspo pining and jealousy rar plz bare with typos, unorganized writing, mistakes im zo zory huhuhu first fic :] wc: 3.2k

@ perpetuity

     The loud clacks of your neighbouring cubicle’s keyboard might send you over the edge, the insane clicks of their mouse and tongue. What on God’s green earth do you have to be working on to be that loud? 

“Keep it down.” you had stood up to look over the cubicle of your co-worker adjacent to you.

“Wear earphones.” The head of black hair looked back at you, taking off his wired earbuds out of his left ear, promptly going back to his work. Loudly clacking at his keyboard and obnoxiously clicking at his mouse. You’d slouched back on your chair, tired and unwilling to argue.

     Doyoung Kendro, his head of black hair went back to typing whatever bullshit he was working on. Personally, you’ll never get how management always gave him the long and tedious reports to make, and you’d have to check his shitty writing. You literally went to college to write, and you're stuck in an office job having to tutor what seemed like basic English through document notes. Feeling fed up was an understatement. Everywhere, men around you prosper and succeed in ways you feel as if undeserving.

“Oh, and Chase asked you to stay after work.” Doyoung had stood up to peek over your cubicle to inform you. Chase, the manager of our department, he’s a great man overall but he seemed incompetent and stupid.

“For what?” You swept the bang out of your face to look up at him.

“Hmm.. Dunno, maybe my complaints against you are finally working.” Bitch. That was the only word that seemed to come to mind whenever he spoke to you.

“Hm? Well, maybe he’s congratulating me for knowing the difference between you’re and your.” Admittedly, a weak rebuttal, but it was still something.

“Aw, congrats on your first award ever.” He snarked, sitting back down after.

“Make sure you’re using the right your.” 

     You crossed your arms in annoyance. Everyone in the office had praised Doyoung, especially the young transferee girls. They all think he’s so handsome and competent, a swift worker with a knack in writing and design. It’s all so annoying, he’s always so nice back to them too. Granted, you were mean to him when you first met, but you would never have thought it would have spiralled into a rivalry of sorts.

     His irritating demeanor and infuriating voice would send you into a spiral soon.  

     5 PM had come and you’d clocked out ready to leave. You walk past the receptionist table and say your goodbye to the lady behind the table, Summer. 

“Clocked out, April?” Summer had always had a bright smile, despite working late hours. Like a robot.

“Yup! See you tomorrow, Summer.” You’d waved your goodbyes, until a familiar figure had stopped you.

“Chase’s office, April.” A stern voice had sliced through the light air, Doyoung. 

     You’d given your loudest groan as he’d have the widest grin on his face. Doyoung proceeded to rummage through the candy bowl on the receptionist's desk for a mint and to possibly woo Summer. Pathetic and desperate.

     Your opinion hadn’t changed about Chase after that short meeting, all he had done was change your hours to a later time so you didn’t have to open the office before the janitors did. At least he’s thoughtful.

     After a silent and relaxing car ride, you’d made it back to your apartment complex. You were excited to go home again, no one to bicker with, and a soon to be warm dinner waiting in your refrigerator. The elevator doors were closing, you had rushed and pressed the button to go up as quickly as possible.  Thankfully you had made it in time.

     As you were about to click “7”, you found it had already been entered. Convenient, you didn’t have to touch a button a hundred of people already touched, you doubted they even cleaned them as you found chewed bubble gum on one of the buttons that remained there for a week or so.

“Stalker.” A familiar voice behind you rang in your ears, your shoulders dropped in annoyance and your eyes rolled behind your head. Doyoung.

“The hell? You live here?” If there is a God, he’ll say no.

“Yeah, probably before you.” There is no God. But instead a petty coworker who ruins all your days.

“Are you a child, why does that even matter?”

“I must’ve pissed off a god in my past life to always be in close proximity to you.”

     All you could mutter was a defeated sigh, too tired to argue with someone as obnoxious as him. As soon as the elevator stopped, you both arrived on the 7th floor. You both walked parallel to each other, awkwardly. A few glances were tossed around, trying to assess what was going on. You had stopped at apartment 707, him at 708. 

You looked to your right, all you could do was groan exhaustedly.

“See you tomorrow neighbour!” Doyoung said, trying his best to get on your nerves, he was succeeding.

     As soon as you entered your home, you showered and fell fast asleep. Your dinner could wait till morning. Maybe your thoughts on Chase have grown to be a bit more positive, the extra 30 minutes of sleep really helped. It was a good morning.

     As you were starting your car, something blocked the sun on your left hand window. Light knocks and a pleading smile greeted you as soon as you lowered the window. Doyoung.

“What do you want?” Your cheery morning had come to an end so soon.

“Can I ride with you? Please.” He had practically had eyes as big as bowling balls from how hard he was pleading.

“How do you even know I’m going to work?” 

“It’s not like you have dates waiting for you.”

“You aren’t getting a ride anymore.” You proceeded to roll up your window but his hand stopped it from rolling all the way. 

“Wait wait wait!-- I apologize.”

“You owe me. Remember that.”

“Fine..” He got in the passenger seat and said his thank yous.

“Why do you even need a ride?” You questioned.

“My car wouldn’t start, something with my battery I presume.” 

“Ohh.. sucks i guess.”

“Yeah, take a turn here it’s faster.”

“No why would–” Your sentence was cut off by him leaning closer to turn on your blinker and steer the car for you. “Are you insane?” If you weren’t half awake and had more control over the wheel, you would most have definitely crashed into a pole or something. Almost livid at him, you tried finding the words to yell at him but nothing came out.

“I’m telling you it’s faster. Now go right.” He was as calm as ever. Even after that insanely stupid stunt. 

     You stopped the car on the side of the road to collect your thoughts. “Don’t ever pull that shit again, if this car crashes you’re paying every penny for repairs. This is my car, okay? I have control, I’m the driver.”

“I wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t driving at snail speed into the busiest road known to man. Chase changed your hours and now your time blind, we have like 7 minutes left before being late. I hope you know that.”

“Oh fuck.” You checked the time and he was right. But this was an unfamiliar road, all you could do was listen to him.

     The both of you had arrived and clocked in with seconds to spare. He boasted in your face how listening to his directions was the smart move, you couldn’t help but be annoyed, but a bit grateful too.

     This routine had been going on for 2 weeks, in return, he’d pay a chunk of your gas and bring you coffee from the office building’s cafe. Honestly, you didn’t mind him carpooling with you if he did all of that.

“Could you be a little nicer?” Doyoung stood up from his cubicle to peek his head over to yours.

“Huh?” Confused, you look up.

“What do you mean huh? Look at your revisions on my report. Try again, you’re doing too much just say because, pick up an english textbook. I knew you were mean but does it ever come to mind that you're being too precarious with what you say? I know I’m not the world’s greatest writer but at least be helpful.”

“Oh.. about that..” You were flushed with embarrassment. Admittedly, those weren’t your best revisions! You did them at 1 in the morning after a ton of work and it seemed like the exhaustion got to you. “I’m sorry! C’mon don’t be mad. Look at the time I sent those comments, I was tired and couldn’t stay awake.”

“Re-do them, or your name is being removed from the report.” His gaze was strong, and his tone grim.

     The car ride back to your shared apartment building was quiet and awkward. You apologized again, but he had brushed it off and said it was fine. It clearly wasn’t. He was quiet the whole day, the only time we spoke was when I said thank you to him for fetching you your coffee. He had been the most annoying person I’d met but his absence was distressing.

“I’m sorry again.” You said while stopping the car. “If you want, I can help you with your writing.”

“You’d do that?” His ears perked up.

“Mhm, if I do it’s less work on my end too.” You smiled, finally conversing with him brought you comfort.

     This became a new routine for the two of you, an after-work tutor on his english writing. To add, his car had been fixed, but some new excuse would get magically pulled out from his mouth to ride with you. You didn’t mind. 

“Morning, April!” Summer waved at me with a smile as I clocked in. 

“Mornin’ Summer.” I greet her back, rummaging through the candy bowl on her desk for a lollipop or a sour treat.

“Quick question.. What are you to Kendro?”

“Kendro? As in Doyoung? Hm.” You bickered with him daily, but now it’s faded into jokes. It’s faded into something more than fighting, friendship, fondness? “We’re friends I guess?” You say I guess but in all honesty you felt as if he’s the closest person you know there, literally and figuratively. 

“You aren’t seeing each other?” You could see the visible shock on her face.

“Nope.” You reply, deadpanned.

“Single?”

“Doyou–?”

“The both of you!” Her sudden panic could tell you it was about Doyoung.

“The both of us are single, I gotta get to work now.” 

     You exchanged goodbyes and checked the time. You and your entire office had a meeting that day, it was a popular cosmetics brand looking for endorsement. You head into the meeting room to find that Doyoung has saved you a seat.

“I got you your coffee.” Doyoung, when did he get this sweet?

“Thanks, hey, earlier downstairs Summer asked if you were single. I mean she tried to play it off as if she was asking if both of us were single but it was obviously about you.”

“Seriously? Summer? Me?” He had the widest grin, Joker-like, even. 

“Mhm.” You aren’t sure, but a part of you was sad. Considering the fact he always tried to flirt with her whenever he got candy. Were those all just excuses to see her? Possibly. 

“Do you think she’s into me?” He was as giddy as a kid getting a huge toy.

“Don’t know. Don't care that much.” Jealousy?

“Jealous.” Correct! It’s not that you wanted to form this relationship with Doyoung, you had already found so many distasteful quirks in him. It’s the routine you had formed with him, you’re scared it’ll leave as fast as it came.

     That night, you thought over all the time you spent with Doyoung. What did he feel during? Did he do it just for convenience? A whirlwind of emotions takes over you, like a man in a storm. You didn’t feel stable, like you could collapse any moment despite lying down already. Doyoung, the one I talk to and think of most, disappearing so quickly. I would have never thought. 

“April.”

“Doyoung?”

“I’ll take a taxi today, don’t wait for me.” 

“Huh, why?” Confused, where is this coming from? “I drove us here though, buying me gas is cheaper than a taxi, ya’know.”

“Yes but,” He looked stressed, scratching his nape. “Summer..”

“Summer?” 

“She thinks we’re dating, even when you denied it.” 

     Both of us, a hopeless case.

“Well, did you deny it?” Your tone becoming more worried, why? You never rooted for them.

“I stumbled over my words.” He’s getting increasingly more weary and uneasy. “And everyone else thinks we’re a thing. Even people we don’t know, April.”

“Oh and is that hell for you?” You’d slipped up, what you’d felt about Doyoung had slipped from your mouth.

“What? No.. It’s just that– Why would you want people to believe in something false? Summer’s just really pretty and–” You spaced out and stopped listening there. He went on about his small crush on the gorgeous receptionist that increased tenfold when he found out she asked if he was single. “--and I don’t see why you're unfazed, you hated me to death.”

“Hated. Past tense. I have to clock out now.” You walk out on him, something in your chest is growing, something painful and sickening. Your head is throbbing, your eyes are watering. Why did you care, why did you care for him? Your hand clutching your chest isn’t enough to numb what you were feeling. “I never want to talk to that jerk again.” You muttered, in annoyance.

     But in reality, what had he done wrong? You kept this thought deep behind your head, your pettiness could never deem you wrong. You were just jealous. The days that followed that conversation were empty and lifeless. The most communication the two of you had were small notes on your coffees and small messages asking if you were okay on colorful post-it notes. 

     A week had gone by slower than usual, emptier than usual.

“April, it’s been a week since you’ve last spoken to me.” He had you cornered. “I know I haven’t been the kindest but listen, please?” You turned to him, wide eyed. His pleads were such a weakness. “I don’t want our days as coworkers to end badly, okay? I want to make up.”

“End badly, what do you mean end?” If you weren’t listening then, you were now. 

“Boss, Lady Naomi is asking me to transfer district buildings. It’s for a higher pay and I get to do more graphic design rather than newsletters and journals. I’m sorry April, I’m almost 100% certain about this promotion.” There was silence for a moment. “We’ll still be neighbours though!” His best attempt to clear the dense air.

“Let’s talk at my apartment, please.” Your voice was shaky and uneasy, you could feel your eyes becoming blurry.

     You had waited on your apartment’s sofa where you had all your tutor sessions with him. The knock on your door sent you out of your dissociation. You greeted him with heavy eyes and sat both of you down.

“Sorry Doyou–” He grabbed both your hands and built up confidence in his chest.

“I think I have feelings for you.” He stared you down with his eyes, piercing right through you. He didn’t even let you reply. “April, maybe it’s the time we scheduled together right here on this sofa, or the car rides, or the fights we’ve had that turned into jokes, I don’t know where it started either. But I am certain, it’s you who I like.” He had recited that whole love letter without fail, with a straight face too.

“I–...” You were speechless, overwhelmed with all this information.

“What do you feel about me, April.”

“Doyoung this is too m–” Constantly getting cut off, this man had built confidence the size of monuments. 

“Kiss me.”

“What?” What else is he gonna say? This whole conversation is throwing stuff at me I’d never expected, especially from him.

“Kiss me, and see if you feel anything.” He leaned closer, you could practically feel him breathing against you.

     You comply. He cupped your cheeks and tilted his head so perfectly, his cushions for lips pressed against yours so gently. It wasn’t a quick peck, he used his other hand to hold your waist and go in for more. You rested your hand on his shoulder, making its way down to his chest, you pressed against him and pulled away. The tips of your ears are flushed beyond belief, your face felt warmer than ever.

“..What did you feel?” He stuttered slightly.

“I like you. I like you so much.” All you could see after saying that was the most childlike grin coming from him. He cups your cheeks, his hands almost the size of face. “The job transfer… Where are they transferring you to?”

“Kinda far, from building 12 to 21.” He says while moving one of his hands to yours and holding it gently.

“Goodluck, Doyoung.” 

“Chase let me have a trial run though, I can work there for a week and see if I like it or not.”

“He let you do that? How lenient.”

“Mhm.” He gave you another wide smile, hiding the fact he had begged for it beforehand.

     The week without Doyoung felt like you were constantly waiting for something that wasn’t coming. Those days where a cup of coffee would appear on your desk, or those little post-it notes from him, or those car rides where he'd talk about nothing for 20 minutes straight without fail were missing. On the last day of his trial run, he knocked on your door. Doyoung.

“I didn’t take the job.”

“What?” You said while leading him inside, it was a job that paid more and a job where he got to practise his passion. You didn’t mind taking weeks to get used to his absence.

“I didn’t take the job.” He repeated, but with more emphasis.

“I heard you, but why? It would’ve been great for you, Doyoung. Better pay and opportunities, I don't get it.”

“It’s hard working without someone like you. It’s hard without you.”

“You missed me, huh?”

“Mhm.. The routine you’ve got me used to, there's no time to get you coffee and no where to put small reminders for you..”

“Doyoung..” You said as you sat him down on your sofa.

“Mhm.” He bumped his forehead with yours, giving you a kiss. You returned it.

     Perpetuity, something constant and everlasting. That’s what he had become, he was a constant in your life. Doyoung A. Kendro, a perpetual source of what you need everyday. Soon enough, you both were able to leave that fluorescent hell of an office and do your own thing. In 3 years, you had become a writer under a major news agency, and Doyoung had become a graphic designer for a game company. Though you are no longer co workers, you had more time for each other outside of work, and even if you two weren’t neighbours anymore, roommates sound better anyways.

Doyoung, I will adore you in perpetuity.

[atrial-ofhorror-if]

-stroking my chin like a wise old man-

i see this ask floating around IFs sometimes and yanno what im curious because i do think it's an interesting one. SO:

If your characters, who would be Orpheus, and who would be Eurydice? Or, who would look back, and who would make it out of the Underworld?

Ooo, I love this ask! This is gonna be a long one folks, so buckle up.

For the ROS:

Faizan: Would be Orpheus and not look back. They don't believe that death is going to uphold his part of the bargain; they're just cynical like that 🥲. In the end, they would much rather live in the moment; in a beautifully crafted lie than be faced with a cold hard truth. Imagine their face when you two leave the tunnel and they feel you embracing them from behind. They may even shed a tear or two 🥲🥲

Adakai: Hmmm, I would say they would be an unwilling Eurydice 👀👀👀. And they are 100 percent looking back 💀. They can't help it, so much has been taken from them without a moment's pause. And a deal like this is just too good to be true for them. Halfway through the tunnel, Adakai would start to hear the whispers of deceptive spirits. Telling them that you're not there, that they've been lied to and deceived. To know that you're never coming back and that they are the cause of it... that would fully destroy the final and last thread that holds them together.

Moore: 😬😬😬 would be Eurydice and not look back. They know that your life is on the line and that you're relying on them. They wouldn't dare betray your trust or let you down. But they're shaking and sweating the whole time they're making the trek back. The one time you see them lacking their usual stone composure.

Alvarez: Would be Orpheus and look back. But its not even an intentional look back either! They were rambling, trying to fill the awkward silence and weren't looking where they were stepping. Que random misplaced stone and watch them flail and fall onto their back. Technically, they aren't looking back, but death doesn't care about technicalities, unfortunately. Their face is a picture of heartbreak, and pain as they watch you get sucked back into the inner bowels of hell.

Yue: He's kind of special since ya know his father is death and all 💀💀. He would look back only because he knows the type of bullshit his father pulls, and because of that he can't trust him, the one time he should, hello? As soon as he gets to the mouth of the underworld he's looking back; just to curse his father out for even holding you in the underworld only to see you become corporal and then fade into nothing.

Now the SOs. It's not gonna be as indepth; since they're just FWB but I still wanted to include them in the fun.

Jin: Would be Orpheus and is looking back 💀💀 which, y'all don't even know how funny and ironic this one is.

Khalid: Would be Eurydice and is looking back. Khalid would think you've called him and look back to see you fade into nothing.

Meechie (Carlos): Would be Orpheus and not looking back. Partially, because he knows there are a couple of ghosts that are waiting for him to slip up down there.

Emiko(Yuna): Would be Eurydice and is not looking back. She's also a special case lol 💀

Nola(Nora): Would be Orpheus and is looking back. C'mon, she's the conspiracy theorist y'all! She's not trusting anything she's told.

Sati: Would be Eurydice and not looking back. She's always been a bit of an gambler.

[uriel-is-best-girl]

Time for what tma entites I think orv characters are aligned with! Spoilers for orv and possibly tma too.

So starting off with our main boi:

Kim Dokja himself. I'm going to have to give him a strong death/the end alignment. The eye could be argued I suppose what with all his knowledge and 'mind reading', but i just feel like the end connection is stronger. Hes expierenced death and rebirth in more ways than just the literal sense too, he first died when his mother 'killed' his father and he was left behind in the wake of that death. And then again when he jumped from the roof, living on feeling more as though a ghost than alive. And then ofc all the actual self sacrifice where he comes back, trying to kill od, the 49% of him wasting away in a hospital, another death. Ofc then theres the thousands of deaths and regressions from yjh that kept him alive. Again and again he is surrounded and made up by death and its ultimate refusal to allow him its grasp (much like oliver).

Next! (Note: I will NOT be going in order bc I don't have ideas for everyone yet.)

Lee jihye is an unwilling avatar of the slaughter and I will stand by that. Her sponsor is a war general and she starts the series by having to kill her best friend in order to survive. In the context of being a slaughter avatar, she tries to combat the need for senseless violence by justifying it, by trying it use it to protect others.

Han Sooyoung is an avatar of the web. There are many aspects about her snd her story that involve levels of control or bring up the question of others frew will (she wrote ways of survival, but she wrote it after the fact, but after the fact was also before the fact so then what does that make of yjh and all the others in her story?) Again, im just contextualizing things in context of tma entities, not actual commentary on orv story.

Lee gilyoung. If you know anything about tma u know im giving him the hive/the corruption. Its stereotypical! Its the obvious chioce! Bug boy gets bug fear! But I think its also the right chioce. When lgy was being possibly abused or neglected by his family memeber, he had his bugs. Sound familar? To literally all the hive statements. Its rotting filth but its also there when you have no one and are alone and it will love you when no one else will. And for that love it will consume you.

Jung Heewon is a strong woman who has been hurt before. Because of this she took up a mantel to be the fires of justice. Thats right, we're looking Desolation aligned here. Incongruence with the namesake of lightless flame, her fires offer no mercy. Things were taken and stripped from her before kdj saved her, things she can move on from but can never get back. So she will take away from those who have taken from her, who will take from her. She is the type of avatar that feeds the desolation with her own fear. She is afraid, so afraid of loosing so she will burn it all down until theres no one who can take from her again. I especially like how her judgement time or smthing power starts as out of her control to being in the control of her and kdjc. Bc in either case you cant really say either side is correct. Only that they have the power the decide, and they have always backed her when she wants to use her flames.

Lee Hyunsung. The Burried, or Too Close I Cannot Breathe. You cannot make any decisions deep in the ground, held tight by the earth in what is either a loving or unforgiving brace. Everything down to breathing will be decided for you, there is no room for mistakes or lose. Throughout the story lee hyunsung struggles alot with descion making, he wants to be told what to do, he can follow orders. Hes got a big heart, but hes tough, he can stand his ground and weather it all, just like the earth. I would link the type of avatar lee hyunsung would be to the statement in which a graveyard digger becomes obsessed with burrying himself alive and sleeping. Lee hyunsung could find comfort and saftey in the dirt.