#can you imagine moving to a new place and explaining to someone that you can't go on a date with them because you're dating a river?

[gagoochi]

I just watched Spirited Away last night for the first time and I gotta say I was NOT prepared to find out the plot twist was the girl being in love with a LITERAL river. Like I spent the entire end of the movie laughing because it was just so unexpected. Also, if I were a dragon, I'd want to be a cool river dragon like Haku or whatever his actual name is (I was too busy laughing at him for being a river in love with a human to remember). Ok going back to the river thing, can you imagine you almost drown in a river and then fall in love with said river?? Sorry, I'm still not over it. I didn't realize Ghibli movies were so goofy.

[yanderenightmare]

i love your hybrid au sm! the way you characterise each animal to suit not only it’s species, but the characters itself is so creative and nothing short of genius! so it got me thinking, how would you imagine the bnha characters as mythical creatures and monsters ??? ( eg. vampires, wendigos, harpies, werewolves ) etc.

Katsuki, Tomura, Hawks, Deku, Shoto, Dabi

TW: implied noncon, yandere, the supernatural?

gn reader

Shigaraki Tomura Ghost

You’ve moved into his old room, and though you furnish it a bit differently than he did when he was still alive, you’ve placed the bed in the exact same spot. It’s been all dust and dead moths up until now, it almost feels like he’s alive again as he sleeps next to your warm body.

It’s only small things in the beginning. Underwear that goes missing, unexplainable handprints on the foggy shower doors, your duvet on the floor even though you’ve never been one to kick it off in your sleep.

You’ve never been one to believe in the paranormal either, but something convinces you to search up the history of the house. You find out a boy had murdered his entire family here—parents, grandparents, his sister—and that the boy himself was never found.

Obviously, you shut your laptop with a bang and try and will it away from your mind. It happened years and years ago—whoever that boy was, he was long since dead. But the more it starts sinking in that you’re not alone, the more your belief feeds him—makes him feel real again, as though you’re slowly bringing him back to life.

Sometimes, you spot him in the mirror of your vanity, but when you twist around, there’s no one there. But you feel him—the gust of cold breath giving you goosebumps, the weight of hands and a chest pressing against yours at night, and the brush of coarse fingertips touching you in places—places that have you moaning his dead name.

Bakugou Katsuki Demonic spirit

He enjoys large houses—preferably something with a bit of history. But every now and again, some moronic humans decide it’s time to wreck the old and build something new—which means he’s often on the move.

He doesn’t mind living alone in his new house until you move in. He’s a little mad at you at first—he thinks you’re one of those wreckers, what with your renovations and whatnot—but then he understands that you’re preserving, not destroying. Apparently, the Gothic manor is your ancestral home built by one of your great-grandparents seven generations back in the 18th century—seems you were the only descendant who felt it was worthwhile to keep. 

He wouldn’t normally stay when someone else moved in—he’d often use his demonic means and scare them on their way. But with you, he settles for dwelling in the shadows, in the many dark rooms you haven’t found a use for yet. But when night comes, and you turn off the lights and go to bed, he can't help but end up in your room—watching you sleep, oh-so-peacefully and blissfully unaware of his presence. But he won’t do anything to you even though he could, even though you make it so easy—he’s grateful to you, his little housemate.

Your bedroom becomes awfully hot at night—you can’t explain it. Nor can you explain why the wind howling through the house sounds more like the groaning breaths of a beast. All you know is that your bed feels heavier than it should if you were the only one in it—and that you don’t dare twist around to see what it is sleeping next to you because whatever it might be, you don’t think it’s human.

You know it isn’t human. It’s too big to be, and its hands are too warm and too rough—and its claws too sharp where they rake into your skin and tuck you close to a chest that feels as though engulfs you. You don’t think it has a heart, only a stomach—and it sounds hungry.

You read up on sleep paralysis demons, and it brings you peace of mind, but only until night comes and you go to bed in wait. It’s the first time he talks to you. His laugh is like rusted clockwork, and his voice is like raked coals—hot and scratchy against your ear as he tells you how your human ways of rationalizing the things you don’t understand are cute and amusing.

Keigo Takami - Hawks Guardian Angel

Being a guardian angel has always been a fun hobby of his ever since the creation—he’s found it to be a nice break from all the other angelic duties he has bearing down his wings. Of course, it’s always sad when your human dies, but luckily, there’s always another one not far behind to steal your halo all over again.

You’re his most recent. He watches over you any minute he can spare, chuckling over all your silly human antics. And though he’s had plenty of humans before you in the long history of man and God, he can’t help but confess you’re his favorite so far. You’re just so cute with your big, adorable eyes and pretty smile.

He begins taking greater pride in his responsibility of being your guardian. He used to see it as but a menial little task he could take to when feeling up for a laugh, but something about you makes him want to watch over you every single second of every day.

And so he does—he has the feathers to spare, especially for something so important. But soon, simply watching over you doesn’t feel like enough anymore.

He knows it’s wrong—so very wrong—so much so he’s afraid he’ll be cast out if anyone were to find out. It’s not right for angels to feel amorous for humans—most would call it deviant and demonic. But he can’t help himself—watching you in your vulnerable state while you undress, bathe, and sleep.

Still, it doesn’t feel like enough.

Maybe he’ll come to visit you one of these days.

Midoriya Izuku - Deku Hybrid between fae and troll

He protects the forest and nurses all sick and wounded animals back to health, writing down the condition of trees and brushes in his notebook as he wanders for hours until he falls asleep in a moss bed beneath the stars. And though he knows his responsibility is purely to the forest, he can’t help but feel inclined to keep an eye on the little human who lives just beyond it. You’re just so cute with the way you walk the forest and sing songs you think no one hears—wearing your human clothing and living in your human abode behind walls and a door. He just finds it absolutely fascinating. 

Sometimes, you feel like there’s something following you when you walk about the forest next to your house. You’ll turn around to see a cluster of rocks and greenery you could have sworn weren’t there when you walked by—you look away before allowing yourself to think the pile looks an awfully lot similar to a larger human’s huddled form. But sometimes you hear it—the sound of stone scraping methodically, as though walking. You don’t humor the thought until you start finding his footprints outside your house, on the path to the forest—feet thrice the size of your own and sunken as though made by something very heavy.

Your legs go out from beneath you once you first see him—not like those times you’d turned around only for him to pretend to be part of the earth—this time, he’s pretending to be more like you, and it only makes it all that much worse. He’s bigger than a bear, grey-skinned with flecks that remind you of freckles and hair like fresh moss sprouts. His eyes are as green as the fox-fire fungi when night falls—glowing with nocturnal light. When you try to run, he follows suit, making the ground shake so bad it knocks you over. 

He carries you into the mountain where he lives and keeps you there from then on. After all, the part of him that’s fae has considered you his pet from the moment you took a bite of your first forest fruit. It was his gift to you whether you knew it or not, and now you’ll belong to him forever.

Todoroki Shoto Vampire

It’s an awfully boring world. Not much to do when you feel you’ve done it all twice over. The taste of blood has become stale no matter how many different types he drowns himself in at night. Sometimes, he humors the thought of setting his manor ablaze if only to watch the fire roar until the sun rears the top of the roof and finally puts him to eternal rest. But he’s been thinking about it for two or more centuries already, and he’s beginning to doubt his nerve.

Dead things can’t make vows, so he must go on as he decided to when he was still alive—that’s the curse—only another person can break it.

You seem doable enough when you stride into his manor with your little sharpened sticks and silver daggers. It’s been a while since a hunter has graced his presence. The scent of holy water makes him lick his fangs, and the nearly irresistible urge to drink you dry almost has him pouncing on you—but he knows it would be but a fleeting high unworth it in the end when he’d have to live another millennium without the warmth of the sun or another soul.

He drops down before you with grace. You have the tip of your silver dagger pointed up under his chin in the same second but get stunted by his pale porcelain face, showing no signs of aggression and rather riddled with a bleak sort of melancholy you’re not used to seeing on the godless creatures.

He simply stands there, straight-spined and high-headed, with his hands folded behind his back as though showing you respect—and then, unprompted and to your great surprise, asks if you would please make it quick and put him out of his misery.

Todoroki Touya - Dabi Hyrbid between incubi and vampire

He preys in nightclubs on those who have that mischievous glint in their eyes in dire hope their lust can match his. Every day, it’s a dozen new—he can never seem to find the right one—always starving and never sated no matter how much he gorges himself, always thirsting, always dying for more. 

Until you.

You’re but a dainty wallflower who doesn’t want to be there, but you have this scent about you—garden-fresh, like something he’s never smelled before, and his tongue yearns for a taste. He knows what it is once he gets closer to you—the opposite of sin of all things, it’s innocence, and oh, how he craves to devour it whole.

His silver tongue has had so much practice that using it on your gullible ears makes him all but drool, asking you if you’d like some fresh air. You nod your head, big eyes looking at him as though he were some sort of saint for offering. He laps it up—it’s all he can do to pace himself. But when he has you alone, it’s all over for you.

He’s going to corrupt every last piece of you until that once peachy keen taste of innocence has become an ever sweeter taste of syrupy sin. He’s going to make you exactly like him—and your tall fall from grace will leave you blasphemous and beautiful.

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[ozzgin]

Ozz.. at this point I think you should just make fic of yourself… I call thee :

“Ozzgin, The groom of many, Poet of depravities, Maker of the Ancient House of whores (readers), and Hands of the illustrator.”

Faq, wait, now you sound like Zeus….

Yeaaaah, I do very much enjoy my consent, thank you :’) But mythological scoundrels aside, you did give me a very funny idea, anon. Like...

Yandere! Tumblr Writer x Literal Reader

TW: stalking, obsessive behavior

"Oh, a new post!" You roll over to the side and begin scrolling. Your favorite writer just shared a new story, and you can't wait to get your yandere fill.

You scan the paragraphs with a wide grin, yet as the story progresses, your features begin to twist in confusion. Are you imagining things? The author's notes mentioned something about a particular kind of Reader for this plot. But this...

It starts rather generic, then the details are fleshed out. Details eerily similar to your own life. "W-well, many people look like this, I suppose", you tell yourself reassuringly. That's right. A lovely, unexpected coincidence. At least you can insert yourself better into the story.

Oh, but it goes on. Isn't this your nickname? The place described sounds so much like your own home...and your family situation...and your street. You sit up and stare at the phone. What the hell?

Not only is everything an exact account of your life, but the plot dutifully replicates your last week, almost as if someone had followed closely behind. The times you left your place, what you wore, where you went. You just realize you've been holding your breath.

The story moves on to what would be tomorrow. The yandere finally decides to make a move, essentially trapping the Reader. You continue to gawk at the words, unable to look away.

It must be a misunderstanding. With trembling hands, you type in an anonymous ask. Funny coincidence, you explain, you nearly thought this story was about you.

Seconds later, you receive a notification. The writer just responded: "I have to get my inspiration from somewhere, (Y/N). I'll see you tomorrow :)"

[feirceangel]

Imagine | Mine (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Imagine Feyd discovering that someone has dared to harm what’s his.

Word Count: 1,574

Warnings: possessive!Feyd, objectification, blood, murder, (Feyd is his own psychotic warning in himself to be honest.)

Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is not known for his mercy.

Ask anyone in the universe who has heard even a whisper of House Harkonnen, and they will warn to tread carefully when dealing with them. If you value your life, you wouldn't even get near them.

And everyone knows Feyd-Rautha is one of the best examples of Harkonnen rage and violence, second only to his uncle, the Baron.

Renowned for his physical prowess as a fighter, his insatiable lust for blood and death, and his determination to rise in power and favour, he is a force to be reckoned with.

So why would anyone dare go against him?

He finds himself asking this as he looks upon your form, head bowed and turned slightly away from him. Hiding something.

Gracefully and predatory as a panther, he approaches you slowly.

"My darling.." his voice rasps.

Normally you greet him immediately, recognizing his footfalls from down the hall. You would smile at your na-Baron and ask him how his day went if you did not spend it with him.

You are oddly subdued tonight.

His eyes, always searching, follow a drop which falls from your cheek, landing on the cold concrete floor. Instantly, he is before you, grasping your chin in his strong hand. He tilts your head up, none too gently, and examines your tear-stained face.

"What happened?" His already raspy voice is deeper, darker.

Feyd is no stranger to your tears. In fact, he often revels in their presence, trying all sorts of things to make you cry. But he hasn't done anything to illicit that response today.

When you don't offer an answer right away, his grip tightens, squishing your cheeks together.

"Speak."

His voice holds no room for disobedience. You nod your head and he releases you, stepping back slightly.

You shake slightly as you begin, "I am sorry, na-Baron."

Feyd's anger is growing. You only call him that in public or when you are disturbed.

"Do not apologize. Explain," he can't stop himself from hissing.

"I took a walk today," you begin slowly. "Just to the training grounds to see if you were there. But I didn't see you so I walked back. He stopped me and-"

"'He'?" Feyd echoes.

"Richter," you supply the name of one of the Baron's top generals. "He grabbed me and said I was a no-good whore who should've been disposed of long ago."

Anger swirls with Feyd's chest at this news. Of course, many people have said harsh and often cruel things to you. But you always kept your head high and ignored the jabs. You’re always so strong.

This is different, he can tell.

"What else? You are not one to cry over a mere insult," he brings his hand up to swipe a tear from your soft cheek. You lean into his touch, relishing in its familiarity.

You inhale deeply, "He struck me without warning, na-Baron."

In his oft colourless word, all Feyd now sees is red.

"Where?" His voice is so low it's almost impossible to hear.

You shake as you lower the collar of your dress to reveal a swollen area on your shoulder, "Here."

His dark eyes flicker to yours, bidding you to continue.

You move your hand to your face and gently touch your tearstained cheek, "And here."

Feyd's hand clenches into a fist. He bends closer to examine your face, noting the slight swelling and the way you bow your head. He places his hand on the back of your head, angling your face upwards. A featherlight kiss is applied to your skin so softly you can barely feel it.

Your master and lover rises to his full height, "Rest my darling, I shall return shortly."

He turns to leave but you reach out and grab his arm. Feyd stops and turns to stare at you.

"Please, na-Baron. Don't hurt him."

He scowls at your request, "He has hurt you. Death is his reward."

"He has done nothing that you have not," you say. "I have known worse pain from your own hands.”

Feyd shakes his head and grips your arms, dragging you forward to stand with your bodies touching.

"Only I can touch what's mine. Only I can hurt you how I see fit. You take the pain only I give you." He dips his head close to your ear, breath sending shivers down your spine. “Do you understand?”

"Of course, my lord na-Baron," your voice is breathy.

You are intoxicated by his closeness, the dangerous poise with which he caries himself, the possessiveness of his words and the truth of them.

"Say it."

"I'm yours alone, Feyd."

He crashes his lips onto yours, teeth clashing and lips bruising from the force of it. His hand squeezes your neck as he kisses you. When he finally parts, leaving you breathless, he takes a moment to admire you. His thumb brushes against your lips before he turns once more.

"That swine sealed his fate when he laid hands on what's mine," Feyd growls as he stalks out of the room.

He returns mere minutes later, dragging an incredibly nervous Richter behind him. With a violent shove, he pushes the frightened man to stand before you.

"I heard you disrespected my darling," Feyd points to the floor. "Kneel."

Richter obeys without hesitation. He knows how quick Feyd is to anger… and how few survive it.

"Kiss her shoe."

The man's eyes flicker to yours.

"Now," Feyd places his foot on Richter's back, forcing him down.

Shakily, he presses his lips to your shoe with a mumbled apology. It does nothing to sate Feyd-Rautha's wrath.

With practised ease, Feyd lands a harsh kick to the man's ribs. He repeats the action until the man is a sobbing mess splayed before your feet like an offering.

You regard him coldly, remembering the bite of his hand across your face.

“Please! Please forgive me, my lord!” Richter manages to sob coherent words. Spit and blood dribbles from his mouth pathetically.

“You have insulted me,” Feyd states. “Hurt what’s mine, belittled what’s mine.”

The man’s hand reaches towards your foot, as if you could spare him from the savage that is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

Feyd crushes his hand beneath his shoe, grinding down eliciting a whimper of pain, as he steps before you and above his prey.

He is regal in his violence, eyes shining with possessive obsession.

“Dear one,” he places his hand on your arm before handing you one of his blades. “Help me.”

He smirks as you grip the knife tightly. Your eyes meet his.

Feyd knows you’d do anything he asked of you, just as he knows he’d burn the universe to ashes if you asked him too.

“Of course, my lord,” you say, kneeling by the hurt man. “If it pleases you.”

Feyd’s grin reveals blackened teeth, “You please me, dearest. Now, make him suffer for insulting me and mine.”

The first cut is shallow, uncertain as it travels down the man’s bare arm. Feyd tsks his disapproval.

You adjust your grip and slash again, quickly this time, hitting deep and pointedly. The man screams out and thrashes, but Feyd is upon him in a second. He holds Richter still as you unleash your rage upon him.

Feyd watches you draw blood with a pleasure he’s never experienced before. Relishing in your bared teeth and angry snarls, he commits this to his memory.

He halts your hand as the man ceases his thrashing. With a predatory smile, Feyd guides your hand with his, penetrating the blade deep into the man’s throat.

You watch the man loose his life, as you pant with exertion.

“You have done well, my pet,” Feyd praises, removing the knife from your hand and tossing it aside. He places his hand atop your head.

“Thank you, Feyd.”

He moves his hand down your back and presses his face into your blood stained neck, inhaling deeply. Your hands come around to grasp his shoulders, bringing him close to you. He wraps his strong arms around you, holding you like a lover would.

When he sits up, you lunge forward, capturing his lips with yours. Ignoring the blood and the dead body on the floor, you guide Feyd towards the bed, hands leaving bloody marks on his pale skin.

“Please let me repay you,” you beg, tugging at his shirt. “Allow me to repent.”

“You don’t need to repent, love. But you can keep begging.”

He allows you to disrobe him and press him down onto the soft bedding.

In all honesty, Feyd craves this battle of dominance between you. He could overpower you in an instant, yet the hold you have over him has him bending to your will.

You need only beg and he would take a knee and worship at your feet.

And you know it.

You know he craves this, needs it like an addict. He adores the pain you can lavish upon him, adores the meek demeanour you show to everyone else, adores the side of you that matches his own carnal desires tenfold, adores the way you gladly bleed for him.

He adores you.

And you worship each other in a wicked ritual of blood, sweat, and tears each night.

And he’d never let anyone take this away from him- take you away from him.

He’d kill anyone who dared try.

~~~

[A/n- thanks for reading! Please let me know if you liked it :)]

[cherryredstars]

hello can I request a reader being from 1610 Miles universe and she feels left behind by him since all he can do is like Gwen, so somehow she ends up in 42 Miles universe and they hit it off.

Pairings: Miles-42 x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Slight Angst?, Reminder: READER AND MILES ARE MINORS!

A/N: Hello! Of course you can!

Unedited

It's the same just... different.

It seems like home, smells and feels like it. But something in your gut tells you it isn't. Your gut screams that something is wrong, that something is missing. Your mind just can't prove it. Not yet, anyways.

You're not sure how you got here, how you can be asleep in one place and wake up in another without ever moving. Maybe it's some sort of fever dream, one of those insanely vivid ones that leave you yearning when you wake up. You're sure it has to be. How else would you explain this.

Your heart beats widely for the boy in front of you, even though your mind rations that it isn't really him. This isn't your Miles (and some cruel part of your mind sneers that he wasn't yours to begin with). This is someone else, something else. But he looks and feels like Miles. He speaks and acts like him. He has the same lopsided smile, same deep eyes that draw you in, the same carefree yet playful tint to his words. The only thing that differentiates him from the real Miles is his hair.

Two thick braids run down his scalp, containing his usually natural afro. They look good on him, like they're made for him. Now that you've seen them on him, imagining his hair in any other hairstyle feels wrong. There is something so complementary about this simple style on this specific Miles, and your gut tells you it's because this Miles has something that yours lacks.

For example, that look in his eyes. It isn't very unique to this Miles, because your Miles has that same tell-tale shine in his eyes too. But it's not for you, it's for Gwen. The girl who up and left one day but left some remnants behind that Miles clings to like a lifeline. That particular glossy sheen that envelopes his pupils when he talks about her, that rise of color that highlights his cheeks when you find him drawing her silhouette over and over. But this Miles- the one standing in front of you- is looking at you with those eyes and blushed cheeks. He's looking at you the way you wished Miles would.

He's tripping over himself, sputtering on his words as he tries to pull a faux illusion of calm. One so horrible and see through that you can't help but laugh, causing his eyes to widen and his collar to feel tight around his neck. He can feel the heat of his blush forming perspiration on the nape of his neck, the pounding of his heart sounding like it's shaking the whole space. He reminds you of a puppy, instantly fascinated with the new things dangling in his line of sight.

He opens his mouth and closes it, the words forming a ball in his throat. His eyes scan you as he tries to gather the words. He feels like he's in kindergarten again, trying to collect the numerous cards of words and trying to piece them together to find something that makes sense. In the end, he fails, the meaning of what they all mean- all these nouns and verbs and adjectives- escaping him until his mind locks onto the only word he really knows.

"Pretty."

Breathless and intrigued. You smile, a warmth flooding your face and your heart singing. This may not be your Miles, but he's the Miles that wants to be. The Miles without a Gwen. The Miles who makes you feel like you're not someone's second choice. This Miles who looks at you like you're the stars in the night sky. This Miles is the one that was made for you.

You only fear that you'll wake up from this dream too soon.

[lipringlrh]

race for your heart | mv1

summary: you’re not meant to be there, but you can’t stay away, especially not from the racer who can’t stop winning.

pairing: illegal street racer!max x fem!reader

an: might be my fave thing i’ve ever written. thinking of making this a mini series, thoughts? i’m also not an illegal street racer and have never seen one so might not be accurate x

word count: 3.7k

warnings: illegal, police chase, speeding, mentions of drugs and dodgy men

feedback appreciated and requests open!!

…

You'd been here a few times before, not regularly, never more than twice a month, but enough times to know how everything goes. You weren't meant to be here the first time, you found it by a complete accident but you were grateful now. It filled you with both excitement and dread to be here. It was illegal and wrong, nevermind the fact someone could die.

The place was crawling with creeps and criminals everywhere, one wrong move or one wrong sentence could get you on the wrong side of some dangerous people, but you lived for the thrill. The danger of the drive, and watching the drivers do it. In brand new sports cars you could only dream of affording. You didn't really know much about the drivers, except one.

Max.

He caught your eye instantly when you'd first shown. He was stood there, head to toe in black, his arm placed carefully on his car, showing off all the right bits. He was the reason you kept coming back. He was fast, quicker than all the other drivers, and everyone knew it. He was the one people wanted to challenge, to beat, but they never seemed to.

You'd seen the bets. The money people were giving to the winner after every race. More money than you knew what to do with. You craved it, the luxury and the lifestyle, but it seemed impossible. You weren't a fast driver, and you weren't a criminal by any means yet you still found yourself drawn here every time. And drawn to the driver everyone deemed untouchable.

He was the same today: a winner. You never expected any different, no one did. All the prizes were handed to him on a gold platter. Crowds cheered for him, men patting him on the back as he got out of his car to grab a beer. He met your eye again as he sat at the bar. He was left alone now, the crowds already moving on to the next big thing to talk about. He didn't look away, and for the second time, he found himself walking over to you.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing here alone, again?" He grumbled, taking a sip of his beer. He changed his clothes after the race, now dressed in a white button-down and jeans.

He was weary of you the first time you met. You looked lost, you were, and you were not the kind of person to be here. You looked too pure and good to be surrounded by lousy criminals with more money than they knew what to do with. He wondered if you were with the police, trying to scope out the area and shut it down, but he learned quickly he was wrong.

You explained you were lost and he blindly believed you. He was worried once you figured out what you were doing that you would go to the police but he made you promise you wouldn't, and after he watched how your knees went weak after he called you a "good girl," he knew you wouldn't.

He saw you the next few times you went, looking less and less lost every time, but he never caught your eye long enough to feel confident in walking over. "Can you imagine that?" He thought to himself, "I'm treated as though I'm a fucking god around here and I still can't talk to a girl." He beat himself down over it, watching you interact with people he never wanted you to talk to, in fear they'd ruin the pure image he'd created of you in his head. So he watched from afar, giving creeps the eye long enough to scare them off. Of course, you didn't know it was him sending these men away, but sometimes you were grateful and other times you weren't. He felt bad for a moment before not caring again. "It's to keep her safe," he promised to himself every time.

You didn't reply to him immediately, instead drinking in his appearance: the way his face looked under the moonlight, the way his jaw locked when you didn't reply, and the way his shirt stretched over his muscles perfectly, letting you see everything.

"So?" he replied, smirking, watching you look him up and down more times than he could count, "are you going to answer me?"

You're eyes flew to his face again, watching as he became more confident the longer he saw you looking.

"What did you ask?" you mumbled, holding eye contact.

"I said: "What's a pretty girl like you doing here alone, again?" Think you can answer that?" he challenged, taking a step closer. He saw what he did to other girls, how he made them crumble, but nothing compared to you, and how he loved watching his effect on you.

"I- well, I just came for a beer?" you answered, sounding more unconfident the more you went on. You knew why you were here: because you liked it, but you didn't want to. It was criminal yet here you were, enjoying the thrill and the danger. And watching Max, racing or not.

"And the last time? And the time before that? You don't seem like the type of girl to go out drinking alone, especially to the type of place so dirty and illegal." He asked, teasing, stepping closer once again. His voice was growing louder even as he got closer until he was touching you and leaning down to whisper in your ear, "I think you like it, don't you?"

Your body shuddered at the closeness, your hand flying straight to his arm to keep balance. Instead, you made it worse for yourself, grabbing straight onto his muscles, and turning your face the slightest shade of red. You hoped Max wouldn't be able to see - you were too close and there wasn't much light, but you were very wrong. Crowds moved everywhere around you, but all of Max's focus was on you. It was impossible for him not to notice, he was trying to pick up on every detail that he could about you.

His head lifted back up so you could see him fully like he could see you. Your faces were barely apart, a few centimetres at best, but it still messed with your head, a million thoughts flying everywhere at once until there were none. None other than Max and what his lips would feel like pressed against yours.

You let out the slightest nod as a response to his question. You didn't want to admit you liked it but with Max so close to you it was the only reaction you could even fathom of giving. He was messing with your head and he hasn't even done anything yet.

"Are you going to answer me like a good girl or just stand there?" he says, with the cockiest attitude you'd ever seen. He knew what he did to you, and what else those two little words would do, and he loved it.

Before you got the chance to reply, you felt pressure on your back and you were pushed into Max. He grabbed you and kept you upright, but he couldn't miss the sudden uproar of the crowd and the fact they were all running in the same direction.

He gave you a once over to make sure you were alright before looking forward to try to see what was happening. People were screaming and running and he couldn't tell why. His arms wrapped around you in a protective manner, pulling you closer in an attempt to keep you safe.

So many people were shouting at him and he couldn't make out what anyone was saying. He was trying to figure it out but it seemed impossible. You were almost pushed again but the person managed to stop themselves. Max didn't care, he was almost starting to shout at them for their recklessness until he finally found out what was happening.

"Police! Run!" the man screamed at him before carrying on running himself. It was like his fight or flight mode kicked in and he wasn't going to get caught.

"My car," he said as he realised an escape plane, telling you at the same time. He found your hand and took off running, dragging you with him. He led you both to the side of the crowd so that you wouldn't get lost and led you quickly to his car.

Police were everywhere, especially near the cars. They were parked on the road but out of the way of the runners. Many of them were unregistered or stolen, and others held bags upon bags of drugs. Police were stood by his car, trying to look inside the windows for anything immediately suspicious. They were covering the drivers side and he knew he would have to be fast.

"When I jump across to the drivers side, get into the passenger seat and shut the door," he called back to you. You processed the information, barely, and nodded, but Max was already focused on using his free hand to find his keys.

He got them, twisting them around, and unlocking the car just as he was about to reach it. The police were looking in the backseat, but were too slow to process the flashing orange lights and the doors at the opposite side opening.

Max leaped in and switched sides like a machine, doing it with so much ease it seemed impossible. He grabbed the driver's side door, holding it close as officers tried to open it.

"Get in," he screamed, watching as you paused for a moment. You made eye contact with an officer whilst quickly overthinking your whole life up until this moment. How did this happen?

You couldn't think much longer and you got inside, shutting the door shut with a slam. You let out a sigh of relief much too quickly as your breath hitched with the speed the car had just started.

Max locked the doors and took off in a flash. The car sped up in an instant, going to speeds you never dreamed of. Max was absorbed into the roads, dodging people and officers as he tried to escape.

Your hand gripped the seats until your knuckles were white; this was not a situation you ever wanted to be in. Max noticed, taking his eyes off of the road every few seconds to double-check you were okay.

"I do this every day and I've never got hurt," his eyes flicked back to your face after trying to reassure you, which was obviously failing.

"You won't get into trouble with the police either." he tried again. After looking at you again, he realised how badly he was failing. He didn't know what to do. He was fine in situations like these and had never had to comfort anyone. Every solution was running through his mind, not only to get out of here safe and alive but to make sure you knew that.

"Hold my hand," he ordered softly, holding out his hand for you to grab.

"Don't you need to focus on driving?" you questioned, worried. He laughed and lifted his other hand off of the wheel too. When he saw your face he immediately put it back on but kept the other outstretched for you to grab.

You looked at it for a second before grabbing it, interlacing your fingers together, and bringing your hands to rest on top of your thighs. His thumb immediately started traveling back and forth along the back of your hand as you decided to focus on that rather than the road in front of you.

"I promise you I will keep you safe. Nothing bad will happen," he spoke gently. He smiled at you, not that you were looking, but he thought that it might lift the mood anyway. "Trust me," he added, in the softest tone he thought he'd ever spoken with. He shook his head - he was going soft for a girl he's only ever spoken to twice.

You nodded gently, genuinely trusting him for a moment. That all faded when you started hearing sirens in the distance, getting closer and closer.

Max looked through the wing mirrors before speeding up the car even more. You subconsciously squeezed his hand more, gripping it like a vice.

"Okay, pretty girl, I'm going to need my hand back but it's only to keep you safe. I promise I'm going to keep you safe." You didn't believe him but you tried anyway.

You let go of his hand reluctantly, going back to squeezing the seats. You let out a shaky breath and tried to see what was going on behind you. You were on a motorway, going much higher than the speed limit. You could see three police cars in your view, all trying to catch you up.

Max hit the pedal again, speeding up impossibly faster. His eyes were on the road, occasionally on the police behind him and occasionally on you. If he had it his way, they'd be always on you, but he promised to keep you safe and was doing his damn best to keep it.

"We're going faster than their cars can physically go. We'll lose them in no time." He did another once over of you, taking in how petrified you looked once again. "Sitting so tense is going to make you more tense. I don't want you to worry yourself sick."

"Sorry," you mumbled, taking a quick look in the mirrors to see the police much further in the distance than you thought they would be.

"Don't apologise, pretty girl." he spoke, moving the car to the first lane.

He went round a sharp turn, almost heading onto a junction exit but only just missing it. He sped up again, heading around the next corner with flying speed.

"The police will think we just turned off, we'll turn off at the next one." You just nodded, going along with everything. You barely knew the man yet you were on a literal police chase with him.

He slowed the car down to a normal speed, placing his hand back into yours, "see, we're okay."

"We're okay," you repeated, trying to reassure yourself. His thumb was back to tracing lines on the back of your hand and it was helping you more than you'd like to admit.

It wasn't long until you turned off, traveling at a normal speed down some city suburb roads. You headed into an area you'd never seen, full of some of the biggest houses you imagined the city had to offer. You didn't even know where you were going yet you trusted Max blindly.

He parked in front of a huge residence, with all sorts of fancy cars parked in front. You imagined multiple massive families could live there with tonnes of spare space due to the sheer size of the front alone. It was truly extraordinanry.

"Where are we?" You questioned. Max had turned off the car and leaned back in his seat. His hand never left yours, and his thumb never stopped brushing back and forth.

"My home," he spoke, watching your face convey more emotions than he thought was possible. Your mind was racing a mile a minute: what did he want from you? was he kidnapping you? did he want something in return for saving you? You didn't like the thought of what was happening at all but Max read you easily.

"I can drive you back home if you'd prefer. Or take you somewhere, get you a hotel, anything," he spoke sincerely. He fully believed anything you'd want him to do, he would do for you, and he would go to the ends of the world to do it.

"I don't think I can be alone right now." You said, training your eyes onto yours and Max's hand.

"I can take you to a friend's? I can stay with you? I can take you somewhere crowded? Whatever you want me to do, I will do." He said, promising himself he would do whatever you wanted.

It was stupid - so stupid - the way Max had made you feel safe and the fact you wanted to stay by him. Not one thing led to the conclusion that he was a good man yet you still wanted to stay.

"My house is probably over an hour away." You knew Max could drive fast, you knew he could get you there much quicker but you didn't want to leave him. You looked out the window, at his house.

Max saw the way you looked at it, longingly yet worriedly. He didn't want to push you to make a decision, he wanted you to say it himself. He gave you hand a few reassuring squeezes, urging you to say what you felt.

"I want to stay with you," you whispered. You still stared at his house in horror and amusement. Max could see you in the reflection and could feel the worry radiating off you - he wanted nothing more than to make you feel safe.

"Let's go to a hotel." he said, your head immediately flicking back to look at his, "We can get different rooms if you'd like, but if you'd feel more comfortable there, we can go. It's no problem at all."

"Yes please," you nodded, grateful for Max's thinking. The more he was talking, the more comfortable and safe you felt around him. Past you would probably be calling yourself stupid in every way you knew how, but you felt like it'd be okay this time.

He drove off carefully, sticking to all the speed limits, something he rarely did when he was alone. He took you to a nearby hotel, only a ten-minute drive away. It was a lovely-looking hotel, something you'd never check yourself into though when you could just get the classic cheap ones that always worked fine.

"You okay?" Max asked carefully as you peered outside.

"This looks expensive, Max."

God, he loved when you said his name. You hadn't said it a lot but he felt like he could get addicted every time.

He chuckled in amusement, "I've got more money than I could use if I tried, it's on me."

You nodded and opened the car door, unfortunately dropping Max's hand in the process. Not for long though, as Max whipped around the side of the car to grab it again after muttering a small, "let me open it for you next time," to you.

He ordered two separate rooms but made sure they were next to each other and handed you both keys to your room and the spare keys to his, making you promise to let yourself in of you needed anything.

You felt yourself drawn to him, becoming disappointed as he left you to your own room, longing for more. You led in bed, in the same clothes you'd been wearing all day, wanting nothing more than to just be with him again.

You also couldn't stop thinking about the night that passed and how it could've ended much differently. You were reckless and a complete disaster of a person but you didn't think you would change it if you could.

So you left. You got all your belongings and you knocked on Max's room. He opened the door rather quickly, with a sudden look of confusion on his face when he realised it was you.

His hair was messy and stuck up in every direction but he still looked flawless. He had no shirt or pants on, just boxers, and you couldn't help but admire his whole body.

"Are you okay? Just let yourself in next time. What happened?" he asked frantically, worry laced all over his voice.

"Can I stay with you?" You asked nervously, refusing to look at his face.

"Of course, pretty girl," he replied with no hesitation, he would do anything to have you nearby. He stepped aside and welcomed you in, taking everything out of your hands and placing it on a table.

"You take the bed. I can either join you, take the sofa out here or take the chair in the bed room. And here," he said, picking up the shirt he'd changed into after racing, "take this, you can't be comfortable sleeping in that."

You took the shirt with a "thank you," and got changed in the bedroom. The shirt was long enough that you couldn't see anything if you tried, and it was incredibly comfy.

You poked your head out of the bedroom to see Max half asleep with his head in his hands. You gently called his name, his head jolting suddenly towards you.

"Will you stay with me?" you asked, a lot more confidently than before, but still a little shaky.

Max got up with a nod and headed inside the bedroom. He watched you get comfortable in bed and snuggled into the side you hadn't chosen.

You immediately moved towards him, throwing a leg over his, and your head on top of his chest. His arms moved instinctively around you, pulling you impossibly closer. He was so tired but wasn't going to waste an opportunity of staring at you a little longer.

"Sorry the night didn't turn out how you planned," he mumbled, wanting so badly to kiss your forehead but didn't want to overstep boundaries, "and sorry for scaring you."

"It's okay Max," you whispered, turning your head to kiss his chest ever so delicately. He decided to kiss your head in retaliation, smiling all the way through it.

"Tell me if you want to go again and I'll be there," he chuckled against your head, "goodnight, pretty girl."

"Goodnight, Max."

…

this might be my favourite thing i’ve ever written so reblogs and feedback would be really appreciated !! :) also thinking of making this a mini series, thoughts?

[remushrts]

evan or barty comforting the reader after they hear someone talking about them??

Catharsis

— pairing: barty crouch jr x reader

— a/n: hii, thank you for the request!! you didn't specify if you wanted that platonic or romantic, so it can be read either way! also i chose barty because this is a little self indulging and i took it in a bit of an other direction, hope it's okay anyway

— warnings: inciting violence (because it's barty), reader (literally) breaks a tv (don't try this at home please), not proof read

When the bedroom door unlocks with a soft click, you don't know who you'd expect to enter, but definitely, it was not Barty. He walks over to you, eyes falling to your watery ones as he gives you a smile, only a bit softer than usual. "So, who do I need to beat?" He asks, sitting on the floor by your side without a care in the world.

"Nobody." You sniff, chuckling softly. "Good to know you're up for it though."

"Yeah, hell I am." You can tell his a bit stiffer too, he's not used to the whole thing, you think. Comforting people, being gentle with them, it was never Barty's strength. "Wanna talk about it? Or smash a tv?" You frown, his offer is tempting, but strange.

"Whose tv?" You ask, laughing softly. The sound is almost a huff, the only hint of humor in the soft curls of your lips.

"Don't worry about it." He smirks, propping himself up on his feet and holding out a hand for you, his eyes exhibiting a dangerous glint to them. "So, you wanna smash a tv? We can find the fucker's house too if you feel like breaking a window."

And yeah, maybe you do.

For Barty's credit, he did tell you you could break a tv. Still, you're a bit surprised as he walks you to his backyard and a full television stands on two bricks, looking brand new except from a few scratches on the led screen. Barty smirks at your reaction. "It's like a rage room, but I don't have a room to worry about cleaning up after." He explains, picking a bat from the floor and swirling it lazily, pretending to hit an invisible ball.

"Did you steal this?" You can't help but ask. Following after him, you can't help but notice the glass shards and wood splinters littering the floor, as well as a few bottle necks here and there.

"Of course not!" He feigns offense like the worst actor in the world. "It was on Evan's flat when he moved, but it's broken. Also, it reeks of beer, he thinks the bastard that owned it dumped a few cans on it and it broke down. He said it's not worth fixing, thus this baby sitting on my yard."

You only nod. Breaking a tv with Barty was not how you imagined your day would end, but you were not one to complain. At least you weren't crying yourself to sleep in your room.

"So, what's it gonna be, princess?" You open your mouth to ask what he's talking about, only to see him holding out the baseball bat and another brick on his hands. "Choose your weapon." You pick the baseball bat, and he handles you a pair of safety googles, to which you raise a brown. "What? I'm not an animal." As soon as you've secured the googles on your eyes, Barty lowers his own. "To who do we own the honor?"

You know what he's asking, the name has been stuck in your throat since he first asked, aching to get out like an ich you can't reach. You don't mean to feel as frustrated as you do with them, but you can't help yourself. You shout their names loudly, raising your bat in the air.

"And their little fucking shit talking friends!" Barty completes loudly, because of course he cracked it the moment he saw your state, raising a crow bar in the air, red painting chipped at both ends, you're not sure why or how he came do possess one of those, but you don't question either.

Instead, you swing your bat in the air, smashing the tv screen with a loud noise, glass shattering at your feet. Barty smiles by your side, and for a moment, you forget why you were so upset in the first place.

[vicmillen]

Why Danny should be tossed into the Gotham cast

A short medium long list of reasons, by me:

It funny.

Lady Gotham being an nuisance. A mostly benign one but still a nuisance.

Danny being a even bigger nuisance in retaliation because men can be so petty.

Ol' Batsy getting multiple headaches. Must be his age catching up.

Jason.

Oh sweet, a whole species of enslaved undead waiting to be rescued and rehabilitated. Hmm wonder what's the deal with all the owl motifs?

Did I mention Jason? Oh I did. But how about his magic sword? You know the glowy lightsaber that's powered by his soul or something?

Bird watching is fun. Bat watching is even more fun. Until they start watch you back but eh

The rouges here feels more homely then elsewhere. More malicious to the living then your average Amity haunting, maybe. But the commitment to a theme is very familiar, as is the frequency of attacks.

Another fake clown to soup up! Huh? What do you mean he's human? Humans can't get souped like that don't be silly lol.

Wait. Huh. Well that explains everything and nothing.

How To Manage A Ghost Kingdom 101: a joint lecture by Timothy Drake-Wayne and Jason Peter Todd, teenaged entrepreneur and crime lord, respectively. Targeted student: one future Phantom King.

Advanced Anger Management with Jazz. Targeted student: one Jason Todd and one Danny Phantom.

How To Not Be A Cult Leader Part I, a group therapy lead by Tim. Attendee: one ol' Batsy, his son Stabby Robin, and one Ghost Boy.

So many liminals for a place without a 24/7 portal to the afterlife. Wait what's that green pool underground?

Why and most importantly, How is there ecto detectors in the batcave- wait no actually that explains how the Fentons got their first funding for their cursed research.

'It's good to practice for the future.' -Clockwork, probably.

'Enrichment is important for the growth of a Protector.' -Frostbite, probably.

'Peace is not an option.' -Paraphrased by Danny, probably.

Moving from most haunted city to most cursed city isn't exactly an upgrade, but it isn't an downgrade either, so.

Have you ever considered fighting the bad vibes of your city with cutesy lil blobs? Well you should. Not it's not causing a slime infestation what are you talking about.

Finally someone that is both willing (untrue) and able (we'll see) to deal with the various curses in Gotham. Yay...

No but seriously Danny-make friends with rouges while actively beating each other up-Phantom would fit right in with the Robins.

It's Jazz's dream job working in Arkham... Well it's actually working on dismantling the cursed thing, but baby steps, baby steps.

Imagine the everlasting trio getting onto the bats watchlist within a week. Separately.

Sam for Ivy The Second tendency; Danny because he's poking around old dionesium researches that he shouldn't know about; and Tucker because he's having fun (one-sided) with his new online friends. Oracle is deeply unamused.

Ellie should never meet Damian. They'll be such good bad influences for each other.

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠ ｡⁠*⁠♡ request: May I request Sebastian and Lilia Vanrouge as reader's father figure, pretty please?

.⁠ ｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: i really like papa lilia, i just know that he would take very good care of the reader if he had the opportunity to adopt you lol. Well, I hope you like it anonie! Also Sebbys part here.

It's faerie custom to steal human children for themselves, so the first moment your eyes met in the cafeteria he knew he needed to keep you close. I mean, you were a cute little thing that was brought into a world where you didn't know anything or anyone. A cute little thing that managed to hold Lilia's attention and focus, and he just can't help but be in awe of your strength and courage.

He's very sweet and attentive when he interacts with you, bordering on condescending, but having a fatherly presence takes a lot of weight off your shoulders so you don't mind too much. Lilia loves helping you with your homework and he explains so well that there is no room for doubt during your study sessions with him. He also likes to show you magic tricks since you don't have magic and teaching you how to cook traditional dishes from this world, for your own good, don't eat anything he cooks.

Every little problem you venture into, every little action you take and every word you speak, papa Lilia is by your side - not that you realize it - protecting you from harm. And slowly getting rid of bad company, he is jealous and possessive of your time as he now sees you as one of his children and you should only interact with him and his sons, they're such good companies.

Malleus absolutely adores your company, he sees how the two of you walk down Ramshackle at night while you talk and laugh and because of him, still accepting the situation, Sebek finds himself spending more time with you, listening to you, trying to understand why Malleus like you so much. Lilia is sure you'll be best friends eventually and oh my, you're even napping next to Silver, you two adorable humans.

Lilia likes to wander around random places and he often takes you and Silver on a walk with him through the woods behind campus while he tells stories of ancient times and collects various fruits. He plans to bake a dessert with these fruits to celebrate the arrival of a new member in his little family.

Lilia likes to teach you about self-defense and sword fighting, slowly training you to defend yourself if he or his kids aren't around. And it's also a fun moment where Sebek and Silver are there to help and motivate you, showing you ways to execute a move if you keep getting it wrong. Your brothers know much about this, they've been training since childhood.

He especially loves watching you interact with others. The shy way you offers Malleus a handcrafted gift, watching the expressions of joy on his face, or how you and Sebek are constantly teasing each other and bickering, but you stick up for him when someone badmouths him. And there's even the loving way you let Silver use your lap for a long, restful nap while you sit under a willow tree. And of course, the way you depend on him, listen to his words and let him comfort you when you hear Crowley say that there is no way to return to your world.

It is especially difficult to notice Lilia's manipulation, but not impossible. He is a loving father who is there for his children but he is also a general and a great strategist, there are little things that over time you can see. The fact that you keep getting sick after drinking something he offered you, the fact that whenever you are with one of them people get scared and move away from you and that all your friends don't spend as much time with you anymore, they don't invite you to parties or study dates, or anything. Still, Lilia convinces you that you're just imagining it and sometimes you wonder if it's true.

While escaping from them would be very difficult due to the power and influence they have, Lilia could use his magic to control people and manipulate situations to ensure that you are always by his side. Or Malleus can put you to sleep to prevent you from running away or getting hurt while you try to fight them. It's all for your own good, darling, they're worried about you.

[whatachillkillyeri]

Someone like her

Kim dahyun x reader; angst,fluff

Synopsis- you can’t help it but be a fool for someone like her.

Song: someone like me by twice

A/n- happy dahyun day everyone. Hopefully I’m not late( kinda forgot to write one for her bday).

-

Having a crush on your best friend is the worst feeling ever:

1.) because its your best friend

2.) bc it would maybe end badly

3.)there is no third answer

I mean just one look from them and you already a blushing mess. They can just smile and it already brighten up your whole day.

That's how you feel about dahyun. Every time you see her, your heart skips a beat. You can't help but stare at her, even when she's not looking. Her smile, her laugh, her voice - everything about her is just so captivating.

You've known her since you were kids, and you've always been attached to the hip. You've shared countless memories together, from playing in the park to watching movies at her place. But as you gotten older, you realized that your feelings for her are no longer just those of a friend. They've grown into something more, something you can't quite explain.

You find yourself daydreaming about her during class, imagining what it would be like to kiss her, to hold her hand. Sometimes, when you walk past her in the hallway, you can feel the heat radiating off of her body, and it takes all your willpower not to reach out and touch her.

After school, you often stay behind to help her with her homework. You don't mind, really; you just enjoy spending time with her.

-

"I can't figure this out," you said, sighing for the million time today. You had been stuck on this last problem for about thirty minutes. Dahyun walked over to you, her eyes are fixed on the page, her brow furrowed in concentration. She's so cute when she's focused, you thought .

"Let me take a look," she offers, sliding into the chair beside you. Her body is inches away from yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating off of her. She leans over, peering at the problem you're stuck on, and her hair falls forward, brushing against your cheek. catching a whiff of the new shampoo she used.

As she works through the problem, her fingers trail across the page, pointing out where she thinks you might have gone wrong. You couldn’t help but watch her movements, fascinated by the way her hands move with such confidence and grace. You feel a pang of envy when she effortlessly solves the problem, wishing you could be more like her.

"There you go," she says, grinning at you. "See? It wasn't so bad."

smiling back at her, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Dahyun. You're the best."

She blushes slightly at your compliment and looks down at her desk, playing with a strand of her hair. You can't help but notice how soft her skin looks, how perfect her features are. You wish you could tell her how you really feel, but you're too scared.

-

Dahyun was really known in college. With her being the class president and all. Not to mention an excellent pianist, she was always surrounded by her peers .

You, on the other hand, were more of a loner. You preferred to keep to yourself and study, not really socializing much. But when you were around Dahyun, it felt different. She made you feel comfortable, like you belonged. Even when she was busy with her own friends, she always made time for you.

You would always be there for her when she needs someone to pick her up from late piano lessons. Sometimes, you would even go inside. and watch her practice without her knowing.

Seeing her fingers danced gracefully across the keys, her brow furrowed in concentration. She was lost in the music, and it was like watching a beautiful dance. You couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration every time you watch her play.

It is something you would never be tired of watching. The way she plays the piano, the way she engages with the music, it was as if she was transported to another world. Sometimes, you would find yourself holding your breath, afraid that if you made even the slightest sound, you might break the spell and she'd stop playing.

-

“Seriously y/n, grow some damn balls and confess to her” yeri said as she watches you pace back and forth.

You had force yeri to listen to you rant about dahyun. About how she made you feel, how you wanted to be with her but were too scared. And how much you hated yourself for it.

“It’s not that easy, Yeri. You know that." You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh come on, y/n. You've been mooning over her since you had met me. Which let me remind you, for two fucking years .”

"It's not like that, Yeri." You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "It's just... she's so beautiful, and talented, and-"

“ you're in love with her," Yeri finishes for you with a knowing smile. You can't help but feel a bit annoyed at how easily she's figured it out, but at the same time, it's kind of comforting to have someone who understands how you feel.

You stop pacing and turn to face her, leaning against the wall. " even if I do confess to her. How would I do it”

Yeri smirks. "Well, you can make her a basket of all her favorite things. You know, chocolates, flowers, that book she's been dying to read. Then go to her dorm and confess.”

“Yeri, that the smartest thing you ever said all year.” You say with a small laugh.

Yeri rolled her eyes. “If you are going to confess, you better hurry to the store now. It’s going to close in less than an hour .”

“Shit.” You said as you ran out of the room, not before quickly waving yeri goodbye.

-

You was going to do it. You had finally mustered up the courage to tell Dahyun how you felt. (With the help of yeri ofc). You was practicing it all night in your mirror. Making sure it was perfect.

You double check if everything was in the small basket. Before making your way out of your dorm.

As you walk out your dorm to go to dahyun dorm. You stop in the middle of hallway . What you saw made your heart torn into a million pieces. you saw a guy with chocolate and flowers standing at dahyun door.

Fucking cha eunwoo.

Of course you knew who he was. Who wouldn’t ? He was very known for his charming demeanor and acting skills. He is also dahyun crush since first year of college . She had be gushing about him to you every time she had a chance . “He’s so cute.” “Y/n, you should saw what he did today.” Blah blah .

You were not impressed. You could care less about eunwoo. You didn't understand why Dahyun was so into him. He was nice and all, but there was something about him that just didn't click with you.

And now here he was, confessing to dahyun.

“Dahyun, I like you. A lot. I was hoping you could be my girlfriend” he said, holding out the flowers and chocolate. Dahyun's face turned beet red and she looked down at the floor. She bit her bottom lip and you could see her shoulders shake slightly.

You couldn’t stand there. Not when the love of your life was going to be taken from you. You felt like you were being punched in the gut, like all the air had been sucked out of here . Before you could even hear dahyun's response, you left that hallway.

You stormed into your dorm room, slamming the door behind you. Your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. You drop the basket, not caring if everything had spilled out.

You collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your pillow to muffle your sobs.

Fuck eunwoo. with his stupid haircut and his stupid smile. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. You kept repeating that mantra to yourself like a prayer, hoping it would help ease the ache in your chest. But it didn't. Nothing could.

-

Three days since you last saw and spoke to dahyun. You pretty much had been ignoring her.

Her calls . Her texts. Even at school, you would simply say you got to study and quickly leave.

You were still heartbroken. You didn't know how to move on. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was her beautiful face and the way she smiled. It was like a knife in your chest, making you want to feel that pain over and over again.

You didn’t want to see her today.

So you had decided to skip class today. You needed some time alone. To clear your head. To figure out what to do. You had been laying on your bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Dahyun, on the other hand, doesn’t know why you had been ignoring her. Did she did something that made you mad? She didn't remember doing anything wrong.

She had tried calling you and texting you, but you didn't reply. Even when she saw you in the hallway at school, you just looked away and quickly walked past her. It was like you didn't even know her.

It hurts her. It hurts to see you acting like that towards her. She doesn't understand what she did wrong. Did you not like her anymore? Her heart aches at the thought of losing you.

She tries to call you again but it when straight to voicemail. Fuck it. She’s going to talk to you whether you like it or not .

-

You heard knocking at your door. You didn't bother to get up, figuring it was just yeri again . But when they didn't go away, you sighed and rolled over, rubbing your eyes.

“ fucking hell yeri I already told you th-“ you began, before you opened the door. but suddenly paused , when you came face to face with dahyun.

You was going to shut the door in her face, but she quickly pushed it open before you could. You were taken aback for a moment. As Dahyun stepped inside, angrily.

“Why the actual fuck are you ignoring me?!" dahyun demanded, her voice shaking with anger and hurt.

You didn’t know what to say cause for one, this the first time you had ever heard dahyun curse and two, you felt ashamed.

“So, now you ain’t going to fucking answer me . What am I ? A ghost.”

You swallowed hard, looking at the ground. You didn't want to answer her. You were afraid of what she would do if you told her the truth. But she didn't seem like she was going anywhere anytime soon.

"I-I'm sorry," you finally managed to say, your voice barely a whisper.

Dahyun's eyes widened. "You're sorry? Sorry for what? For ignoring me? For acting like you don't care about me?" Hitting you lightly on the chest as you slightly stumble back.

“I like you dahyun “ you said, you voice barely louder than a whisper.

“What” dahyun asked, not believing her ears.

“I like you dahyun. I like you since freshman year of college. I was going to confess to you three days ago but eunwoo beat me to it. I was fucking hurt. And yes I know I shouldn’t have ignored you. I just couldn't help myself. Especially when I fucking lov-“you got cut off by dahyun kissing you. It was a soft kiss at first, her lips gentle and tentative against yours.

But as you began to respond, she deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding past your lips to tangled with yours. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, feeling her body press against yours.

Dahyun pulled back slightly, looking at you with a mixture of emotions. "I like you too”

“ But what about eunwoo. He ask you to be his girlfriend. ”

“Y/n, honey he’s gay. I found that out a year after I liked him. And plus he was just using me as a test dummy to ask out Lucas.”

You blinked, feeling a little stupid now. All that jealousy was for nothing. You felt your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. Dahyun smiled at you gently.

“Oh” you mumble, feeling even more embarrassed as you tried to hide yourself with a pillow.

“You are so cute”she said seeing you so embarrassed. “My cute y/n” she adds as she bring you into another kiss.

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 [𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader [Modern!AU]

SUMMARY — Violet and Reader spend some quality time with Daphne, August, and Caroline at an outdoor charity event.

WORD COUNT — 3.1K

WARNINGS — none

NOTE — Extra big thank you to my flock this week for helping edit and tweak the ending so that it fit the chapter better! Can't wait for you all to see Grandma Violet in action :)

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑿: 𝑳𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑬

“I really hope the weather holds up,” you looked up at the sky, noticing some grey clouds that threatened to block the sun. “What am I saying this is England, it’s going to rain.”

“The key is to always come prepared,” Violet informed you. “I’ve got a coat in the back.”

“The years of mothering eight children have done you well,” you chuckled as you continued your walk together to the venue. 

When you were standing in line to enter the outdoor tent Violet felt a tug against her pant leg and she looked down, and beamed. 

“Auggie!” she grinned and immediately bent down to pick up her eldest grandchild. 

As soon as he was in her arms, the small boy tucked his face in her shoulder and she cooed affectionately.

“Oh, is someone feeling a little shy today?” she asked and he nodded his head, just as his mother caught up with him. 

“Goodness, there you are,” she let out a breath of relief, a small baby that could be no more than a few months old in her arms. “Auggie, you need to tell me before running off like that.”

The boy mumbled something into Violet’s shoulder and she placed a hand on her daughter’s arm, assuring her everything was fine. 

The young woman turned to you, a smile on her face. 

“I don’t think we’ve formally met yet.”

“No, we haven’t,” you shook your head, holding your tablet in one hand so you could shake hers and introduce yourself. 

“I’m Daphne and this is Caroline,” she motioned to the baby in her arms. “And that’s August,” she pointed to her son who was with Violet. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you all,” you said. “I imagine life is busy with a new baby.”

“Very, my middle child, Belinda, has been feeling the lack of attention, so she and her father are doing a little outing today,” Daphne chuckled. “Do you mind if I ask why an event like this would require a financial manager?”

“Good question,” you looked over at Violet. “Your mother’s assistant is on leave right now so I’ve been helping to fill the position here and there and…well, let's just say I owed her a favour.”

Violet pressed her lips together and tried not to laugh thinking of the violent hangover she had woken up with the morning after celebrating with you. In the moment it was anything but funny, but in hindsight she wondered where she ever got the notion that all of a sudden she was a heavyweight. 

She heard a few clicks and looked around, noticing a photographer, probably paid for the event, taking pictures of them. 

“Daphne, are you sure it was a good idea to bring the children?” Violet asked quietly and Daphne saw the source of her mother’s concern. 

“Mum, this hardly ever happens to them,” she explained. “It’s not like how it was when we were kids, for the most part they’ve left us alone. And it’s not tabloids, it’s an event photographer. I think we’ll be okay.” 

Violet wanted to accept Daphne’s assurances, but she couldn’t completely bypass her own discomfort. Daphne did have a point of the photographs being taken by someone hired, but Violet’s preference would have been for her grandchildren to have complete privacy.

“Lettie,” August finally lifted his head and looked up at Violet. 

“Yes, my darling,” she said while moving up the line, drawing her thoughts away from the photos.

“Are you gonna be here the whole time?”

“The whole time,” Violet nodded. 

“Can I stay with you?”

Violet smiled and looked over at Daphne for an okay, who nodded her head, which allowed Violet to say yes to him. 

“Auggie,” Daphne spoke up. “Can you say hi to Nana’s friend?”

August waved at you and you smiled and gave him a small wave in return. 

“Nice to meet you Auggie.”

He immediately became shy once you spoke and wrapped his small arms around Violet’s neck again. She kissed his curly hair and savoured the feeling of having him still small enough to be in her arms. 

“So, Hyacinth has told me a lot about you,” Daphne turned her attention back to you. “You both seem to have hit it off.”

You laughed a little, “Yes, Hyacinth and I were fast friends.”

“It’s quite sweet, you seem to really understand not only what you do for work but how our family operates,” she mentioned. “I’m sure my mum appreciates that.”

“I think it’s actually been quite nice for me too,” you admitted. “Before, I was working for a holding company and everything felt so…cold. Everything was transactional, but working for your family has really reminded me that money can be used to do good things, especially in the right hands.” 

“My father used to say something along those lines,” Daphne smiled. “It’s part of the reason why I try to bring the children out to these events, it’s good for them to see what our family’s values are. Even if their last name is Basset, they’re also very much Bridgertons.” 

“Oh, absolutely,” you nodded your head and looked over at little Caroline, who began to fuss as they finally were admitted into the large tented area. 

“I’m not sure why she’s so restless,” Daphne commented. “I just fed and changed her.” 

Violet was quite focused on August, explaining why they were there and what they were doing while the small boy had the side of his head pressed against her cheek, simply listening to his Nana’s words. 

You turned your attention back to Daphne, taking in her comment before tilting your head and looking at the young girl. 

“Do you want me to try and settle her?” you offered. “Sometimes babies like to cooperate with me, it’s hit or miss, but might be worth a shot, if you’d like.” 

Daphne considered it before deciding that it couldn’t hurt and you swapped your tablet for Caroline. 

“I’ll just follow you around in case she ends up wanting you,” you said. “And so she doesn’t end up out of your sight. It might be nice to have your hands free for a bit.” 

“Yes, most definitely,” she chuckled. “Thank you, I know you probably have other things you need to be doing.” 

You shook your head. 

“I can be the assistant to Lady Bridgerton and the Duchess of Hastings for one day. Your mum is also quite busy with August, I’m sure she won’t mind.” 

Daphne smiled and placed a hand on your arm, giving it a squeeze while watching you bounce Caroline carefully in your arms,seeing how her small whines faded and instead, she just squirmed a little to get comfortable. 

As promised, you followed Daphne while she socialized and made some meaningful conversations with other donors and organizers and Caroline seemed perfectly content in your arms. In the moments between conversations, you and Daphne continued to chat and make jokes, bonding over that love you both shared for your respective families. 

Violet watched from afar, still holding August up on her hip, who was perfectly happy admiring the elaborate fountain display in front of him. She focused on how your arms carefully cradled Caroline, your touch affectionate and gentle; how Caroline would reach out to you at any given moment and you would give her the attention she seeked, whether it was a smile, a finger to hold, or a small adjustment of her blanket under her chin. 

“Lettie?” August tried to gather Violet’s attention, but her mind was still elsewhere. “Nana Lettie?” he tapped her shoulder and she turned her head to face him, a smile on her lips. 

“Yes, my darling?” 

“Is that your friend with Caroline?” he asked and she nodded her head. “Why is she holding her?” 

“Well,” Violet began. “I think your sister was being a little fussy for your mummy, so she offered to help.” 

“I think Caroline likes her,” August determined. 

“I think so too,” Violet agreed. “Would you like to go talk to her now that you know Caroline likes her? Or are you still feeling shy?”

August seemed to contemplate his Nana’s words before nodding his head, making Violet smile. 

“But Lettie,” he tapped her again. 

“Yes, Auggie?” 

“Can she come after to play with us too?” 

Violet’s heart warmed at the question from her grandson and she pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek. 

“You know what, why don’t we ask her?” she suggested in return. “I think she’s having fun with your mummy, maybe they want to spend more time together too.” 

August seemed happy with that suggestion and Violet continued to walk towards you and Daphne, a fluttering sensation coming over her when you looked up and smiled. 

“Violet, Auggie, you came back to join us,” you said. “How was your walk around?”

“Good,” August said, gaining a little more confidence to speak directly to you. 

“What was your favourite part?” you asked, a bright smile still on your face.

“I like the water fountain,” he pointed back to the display. “And Lettie.” 

“Of course, we can’t forget Lettie,” you nodded your head. “I think she’s the best part too,” you whispered to him, not so discreetly, and he giggled at your childish behaviour. 

Caroline made some babbling noises and you acknowledged her attempted contribution to the conversation, which made August laugh. 

“August, didn’t you have something you wanted to ask?” Violet reminded him. 

He turned and looked over at you, a shy smile on his face. 

“Do you want to come over and play later?” 

Daphne beamed at the suggestion and quickly agreed. 

“It would be so nice to have you for dinner. The house will be quieter without Simon and Belinda, we’d love to have both of you,” Daphne looked at you and then Violet. 

“Well, I don’t have anything planned,” you said. 

“And I already cleared my schedule after this,” Violet agreed. 

August was happy that his suggestion was accepted and was eager for the event to finish so you could all be on your way. 

When it did, Caroline was fast asleep in your arms and you helped Daphne buckle her in her seat in the car before going back to join Violet in hers, running so that the rain wouldn’t catch up to you too much. 

“I should have brought a coat,” you chastised yourself as soon as you got comfortable in the car. 

Violet saw your partially soaked clothes and found herself staring at the fabric of your white blouse now that it had become more…transparent. 

“I think you’ll survive,” she said, quickly pulling her eyes away and focusing on what was in front of her.

“Yes, but now I’m…wet,” you looked down at yourself and Violet bit her cheek hard to keep her mind from wandering too far. 

There were a few moments of silence when you realized Violet’s mind was clearly elsewhere and so you decided to ask her a question. 

“So, why does August call you Lettie?” 

She chuckled a little bit and moved a hand to rub the back of her neck, the other still on the steering wheel, her gaze on the road ahead. 

“August was born when I was still in my forties, so you can imagine I didn’t particularly want to be called Grandma or Grandmother,” she explained. “Daphne was quite set on Nana which I don’t mind too much, but I preferred something more along the lines of a nickname the children could call me. An ill attempt at keeping some of my youth.” 

You chuckled at that, surely it wasn’t an ill attempt. Even if Violet was a young grandmother, you knew she just had one of those faces where, if someone saw her on the street, they would never be able to pinpoint her exact age. 

“So you went with Lettie? I think it’s very cute,” you said. 

“So did I, but between me using Lettie and the kids teasing me and calling me Grandmama and Nana, I get a mix of names from Auggie and Eddie,” she sighed. 

“Eddie is Anthony and Kate’s son, yes?” you asked and Violet nodded. 

“They all have nicknames. They named him after Edmund.” 

You placed a hand on your heart, “That must have meant a lot to you.” 

“It did,” she smiled. “And I think it meant a lot to Anthony that Kate agreed.” 

It didn’t take too long to get to Daphne and Simon’s home from the venue and August was quick to drag both you and Violet out of the car and into the house. 

August showed you his toys and got you to sit down with him and begin a game with building blocks. 

Violet took Caroline from Daphne so she could figure out what the plan was for dinner. Before long, Daphne called everyone into the dining room to eat. August scarfed down his food and asked to be excused so that he could go play again and Violet and Daphne took shifts eating and holding Caroline. 

“Let me put her to bed,” Violet suggested after dinner was over. “You should both go and make sure Auggie isn’t making too much of a mess.” 

Daphne chuckled and nodded, knowing her mother wanted to spend more time with Caroline, so she indulged her, and after a brief argument with you about the dishes, where she ended up conceding and letting you help, you both made your way to where August was and took a seat to begin relaxing and visiting. 

“Do you have a big family as well?” Daphne asked and you shook your head. 

“Large extended family, but my immediate family is quite small,” you said. “But family has always been so important to me. I wouldn’t be where I am without them.” 

“I feel the same way,” Daphne said with a smile while August came up on the couch and sat himself comfortably in your lap, playing quietly with a few action figures. “I think, even after my father’s passing, seeing how my family was able to move past that and help each other through it, it made me want something like that for myself.” 

“Which you seem to have now,” you looked down at August in your lap and she smiled, reaching out to gently brush her fingers against her son’s cheek. 

“Yes, but not without a few obstacles,” Daphne tilted her head thoughtfully. “My husband lost his mother when he was quite young and his father was…distant, and that’s simply the polite way of putting it.” 

You nodded your head, your fingers fixing the tag on the back of August’s shirt. 

“We had a lot of conversations before getting married,” she said softly. “I wanted children and he didn’t, but we also loved each other too much to just give up on having a longer lasting relationship.” 

“This might be a bit of an invasive question, so you don’t have to answer it,” you said. “But do you ever worry that Simon regrets changing his mind about having children?” 

August was now cuddled into you, his eyes slowly closing while a hand of yours played with his curls, lulling him into a peaceful sleep while you and Daphne spoke. 

“I did at first,” she nodded, “but when Auggie was born, you could see it in his eyes. It wasn’t necessarily what he had wanted for himself, but something he was working through.” 

“I’m happy you guys decided to work through that together. Clearly, it’s what was meant to happen for you.” 

“I think so too,” Daphne smiled. “I didn’t realize how much work my parents put in to making their marriage work until I was also in the thick of it. I talked to my mum and went in thinking she wouldn’t understand because her marriage to my dad was so perfect, but there’s really a lot you don’t notice about your parents as a kid.” 

“I can definitely empathize with that. I’m still finding things out about my parents that are helping me understand them better,” you chuckled. 

“Yes, my mum never fails to surprise me,” Daphne agreed. 

“It’s always good to keep a little mystery,” Violet’s voice rang through the room and you both turned to see her leaning in the doorway. “Looks like you managed to get Auggie to sleep too.”

You looked down at the boy resting in your lap and smiled. 

“I guess so. Should we move him to his bed?” you asked. 

“Might be a good idea before he starts to drool,” Daphne warned you and you chuckled, adjusting August so you could hold him properly and stand up, while Violet said she would show you the way to his room. 

After you had put August down on his bed and Violet had tucked him in, you left the room together and she turned around to you to speak. 

“I never thanked you for coming today.” 

“Oh, no thanks needed,” you shook your head. “I owed you one.” 

“I won’t argue with that,” she nodded. “Had a lovely time explaining why I was feeling unwell to Hyacinth and Gregory.” 

You chuckled at the thought of the two discovering their mother had overindulged the night before. 

“You seemed to have hit it off with Daphne as well,” she noted. “Not that we are particularly hard to be around, although Eloise would say otherwise, you always seem to find something to talk about, something to…connect over.” 

“There’s an easy explanation for that, I think,” you said. “They’re your kids.” 

“That’s it?” she chuckled. 

“Well, we get along just fine and each of them have a little piece of you in them, when you find that, it’s easy to connect,” you shrugged. 

Violet’s lips curled into a tight-lipped smile and her eyes drifted down to her feet while you continued to walk down the hallway. 

She wasn’t sure how to respond, but Daphne saved her the trouble, passing by the end of the hallway with three wine glasses and a bottle. 

“You two coming?” she asked. 

“Too soon?” you asked, and Violet shook her head. 

“I’m fine,” she said. 

“Okay, well, how about just one?” 

“Shut up,” she said, but you could hear the amusement in her voice. 

Daphne looked at both of you, confusion etched on her face. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, boy, do we have a story to tell you,” you said as the three of you reached the dining room.

“I cannot wait to hear it.” Daphne uncorked the bottle and started pouring as you and Violet took your seats. 

When you looked to Violet, she nodded her permission for you to begin the story, and as you launched into it, she found her mind preoccupied with an incessant curiosity. You had said you could see parts of her in each of her children and she didn’t know why she cared, but now she desperately wanted to know exactly which parts you were seeing.

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya @philocalistwrites @mako-mermaids2021 @oh-mydarling @courtneyteal @amethyst-bitch @etherynn @lilisdarling @fictionalized-lesbian

[delopsia]

love all the older rhett this older bob that but do you know what i really really reallyyyy want? older rhett and older bob at the same time

Every gear in my head just came to a screeching halt, Jesus christ.

Oh, to be the controversially younger s/o of Admiral Robert Floyd and Pro Bullrider Rhett Abbott 😔✌ could you IMAGINE?

The whispers that follow as you mosey into the Hard Deck in some cute little outfit that breaks every Navy regulation imaginable, intentionally too short to get under Bobby's skin. Nobody's got the slightest clue who you are, where you came from, or who your heart might belong to, but oh, they're trying to get your attention. For a moment, the bar is loud.

But then you're walking right up to Admiral Floyd and planting yourself in his big, warm lap, and the room deflates. Scandalized whispers and wide eyes eating up the way your fingers comb through the whisps of gray in his hair. Bob knows what they're all thinking, and yet all he cares about is showing you off. This pretty thing snuggled up in his lap, playing with his hair while his big hand rubs up and down your thigh.

Oh, but that's not the end of it because there's an arena a few miles away hosting the PBR that night, and everyone is going. It's the one new, fun event of the year, and it's got the attention of the whole town. Eyes are already on you after your stunt at the bar. Even as you settle down in the bleachers, you can feel those nameless pilots paying attention to your every move.

Then Rhett fucking Abbott, rough and tumble cowboy who's been making headlines for his looks all season, comes bursting out of the chute. Rides some beast of a bull to his eight seconds, disappears for a few rides, then reappears up in the stands. Him and his salt and pepper scruff, kissing up on you and Bobby, big hands squeezing your hip and Bob's lithe waist.

Ugh, it's all over a local news outlet the next morning, and both men are so damn well established that nobody can do a damn thing about it. It would take three to pick up Bob's workload, and not one of those bull riders has been able to match Rhett's latest records. And they know it.

But they're so good with you. Protective but not overly so, the power lies in your hands, and they're more than content to fall into the places you need them to. Whether that be shouldering forward to have a word with someone who's been bugging you at the bar or sitting back and watching over you as you handle it yourself.

Sometimes, they struggle to keep up with your terms and references, but they do try their best to make up for the age gap. It makes for an interesting dynamic; their biggest worry is accidentally alienating you, which ends in countless movie nights so that you can understand each other's jokes. Introducing Rhett to modern applications and begging Bob to quit with the highly technical terms. Neither you nor Rhett understand what he's saying, and if he explains, it only gets worse.

Bob spoils you rotten; he's got more money than he knows what to do with, and you get whatever your pretty little heart wants. You haven't paid for a damn thing in years; you've tried, but even if you slip past the detection of one, you're caught in the crosshairs of the other.

On his long days, he'll send you and Rhett off shopping with his card, and you two always get up to something. It's been three months since Rhett sent that video of your pretty hips rolling against Rhett's new boots, biting at his thigh, whispering something that sounded like a plea for Bob to come home early.

Sometimes, he winds up with lewd photos of you riding Rhett in your new lingerie. Then there was that one time you two got an old Polaroid camera, stuffed the photos into a cute box, and sent it to his work to be delivered to him at his desk. That one ended in you and Rhett both limping, but it was so, so worth it. You're already working on your second batch of photos.

Rhett isn't as financially well-off, can't buy you all the bells and whistles, but he kisses you half to death and whispers the prettiest praises in your ears. He's snuggling you when you're both missing Bobby, and he's leaving you sweet messages while he's on a rodeo circuit, mailing small things that remind him of you and Bob. A hand-carved figurine of three running horses, hand-knit blankets from small-town shops.

Drives you two damn near mad with all those photos of his hard cock straining against his jeans, grunts your names over and over and over as he gets himself off to the sight of you and Bobby on his screen.

He loves making you two ride him. Whispering about how, "Want this ol' cowboy to teach ya how to ride, hm?" and making you work for it until your thighs are shivering. Draws you down to fall into his chest as he fucks up into you, too damn strong for his own good.

If you happen to be gone, then your phone never shuts up. They're a mess. One minute, you're rolling your eyes at a POV video of Rhett chasing Bob around the backyard for stealing his popsicle. The next, you're praying nobody overhears hears the secondary video of Rhett railing Bobby into the mattress, muttering about how "this coulda been you, but you're so far away, babydoll."

Its when you're together all at once, that you fully wear each other out. You would think they'd tire easily, but they could go for hours if they want to.

Sometimes they'll take turns with you, pumping you full of their cum and stepping back to let the other play with you for a while. At some point you have to tap out, batting their fingers away when they try to push it back into your spent pussy. It always ends in a need to change the sheets, because they make such a damn mess.

They're equally willing to let you take full control. Sitting on their knees at the foot of the bed, letting you haul them around by their hair and content to follow your every order. The sight of such powerful men at their most vulnerable is something else entirely.

But the best times are when you wake up snuggled between their big, warm bodies. Two pairs of blue eyes smiling fondly at the sight of you yawning, nuzzling into Rhett's broad chest, pulling Bob's arm tighter around you, asking for a few more minutes.

They both love you to death and will show you off as much as you'll allow of them. If you want to perch yourself on their arms for a big-title navy event or a PBR after-party, then that's what you'll get to do. But if you'd prefer to stay home, then they'll move heaven and earth to make sure they can share that with you, too. Regardless of the differences and the gaps between your ages, you'll be wrapped up in these two old men for a long, long time.

[honeyjars-sims]

3.19 A Change of Scenery

Author's note: I'm trying out writing in first person, so this is from Johnny's perspective!

I’m at my desk typing up a list of materials that need to be reordered when I’m interrupted by a terrible sound behind me.

“UUEAAGHH!” The sound is clearly coming from Lacey’s desk but I’m having a hard time imagining such inhuman sounds coming from her. I turn around hesitantly to see her throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

“Are you okay?” I ask, concerned. Lacey is usually pleasant, so I’m almost fearful of what could be setting her off.

“I’m so SICK of looking at this WALL!” she yells, and a few of our coworkers start to look in her direction. “I’m sorry. I know I’m overreacting, but I can’t stand sitting in this corner anymore!”

“You know, I’m with you on that,” I agree. “I feel like we miss out on so much. And I’m not a fan of staring at the wall, either. It makes me feel like I’m a kid being sent to time out.”

“I’m glad it’s not just me.” She smiles brightly, and I’m relieved to see her return to her natural form.

“Well, we do have all the extra space in the building now.” I remember my promise to Lucy and decide this would be the perfect moment to get her into Lacey’s good graces. “I could ask Lucy if some of us could move to a different work area. I’m sure she’d do what she could to help.”

“You think so?”

“Sure, let’s go ask her about it now.”

We head over to Lucy’s office and I explain the situation.

“Well, I’m all for improving work areas whenever we can,” Lucy responds. “If you have to spend a lot of time at your desk, it should be an inviting place. It’s not really my call, but I’ll certainly bring it up to Damien and see what he can do.”

“Thanks, Lucy! You’re the best!” I reply with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm, but Lacey doesn’t seem phased.

“Yeah, thanks!” She echoes.

We go back to our desks. Just as I’m getting really invested in the thrilling world of inventory, Lucy pops her head around the corner.

“So, I talked to Damien,” she begins. “He has some space set aside for some new team members who will be joining soon, and there's enough room there to accommodate the two of you.”

“Awesome!”

“Thanks so much!”

“No problem! He put in an order for more desks. They should be here next week.”

We both thank Lucy again for working things out for us. Once she rounds the corner, I turn to Lacey. “I told you she’d help.”

“Yeah, that was pretty cool of her. Thanks for talking to her about it.” I’m feeling pretty good about my idea, but I know it’s going to take a little more effort to get my coworkers to see Lucy as someone other than their superior.

“You’re welcome. I was afraid of what you might do if you looked at the wall for one more second.”

“You don’t want to find out!” Lacey laughs, and I can't help but join her as I picture her growing fangs and sprouting body hair while she howls at the wall.

"Noted."

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[autistic-duck]

It really sucks when you realize that a survivor's mentality is not a sustainable model for working full-time.

I can't go into every day thinking, “Oh, if the bathroom is occupied during lunch then I'll just wait to pee when I get home” because that is survival. I'm just surviving until I can get to a safe time and place. I am literally holding in pee for eight hours straight, feeling more and more pain because I can't figure out a better time to go to the bathroom.

I can't keep doing that.

Every day, it becomes, “If you can just sit still for a couple more hours, you'll get to move a little bit.”

Or, “if you can just hold in the tears until you can sneak into an empty room, you'll be able to make it through the day without anyone knowing you're upset.”

(Click “keep reading” to hear a more detailed explanation)

I started work this week, and I had completely forgotten just how awful it is to try and exist in a way that doesn't seem off-putting (or scary) to other people.

I had to do two eight-hour blocks of time alone away from home, which I hadn't done since high school, and I'm already realizing that my old methods no longer work.

I legitimately can't mask the entire day anymore. I can feel my joints groaning under the stress. My cells are feverish with the desire to stim. My mind is slowly melting under the fluorescent lights. The voices, the droning voices of professionals, buzz in my head and make no sense. I take notes, but the words look like no language I've ever spoken.

I can't keep pretending to understand what's going on.

But I'm also new to telling people that I'm disabled. The only people who know are immediate family and friends and the psychology clinic that diagnosed me. I want to be proud and confident, to just ask for and demand help, but I can't imagine anyone actually believing me. Nobody helps me when I ask for something because they decide it isn't important.

My sensory issues aren't “bad enough.” My social struggles are just “excuses to be rude.” My stimming is “attention seeking.”

Why did I choose education as the field to go into? I'm not cut out for this new “customer service” teacher mentality. I have to have good interactions with everyone all the time? Just so parents want to send their kids to our schools? How is that even possible? I have a hard time smiling at people who are nice to me, so how do you expect me to smile when someone is yelling at me for failing their student because they didn't turn in their work?

The education system is broken, and I'm just one disabled person who is just now realizing that their disability might actually stop them from keeping their dream job.

How do you advocate for yourself when you grew up thinking that self-advocacy was selfish and evil?

I literally just realized that I can't eat food or respond to greetings if I'm stressed. Showering used to make me feel relaxed before bed, and now it's the only thing preventing me from crying right before sleeping.

I want to learn Spanish, write in my journal, cook healthy meals, exercise in the morning, drink plenty of water, sleep comfortably at night, and spend time with friends who don't make me feel guilty for existing. I want to be able to go to the bathroom whenever I need to. Why does that feel impossible now?

If anyone has experience with advocating for a disability, especially high-functioning and heavily masked autism, I'd really like advice. Who do I talk to? What do I ask for? How do I explain my struggles and keep a job?

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Headcanons for Mark, Jonah, and Adam and an S/O who has a bunch of vita carnis Mimics as "helpers."

What would the three of them think of someone who can somehow "tame" these things and just keeps them around as house pets? They just hang out in their home and on their little plot of land (that I'd imagine is isolated because people moved tf away when the rumors started spreading) and keep any threats away. Reader doesn't actively do anything to sate their diet though. Although they aren't opposed to the Mimics stomping out any would-be troublemakers or those who piss them off... They still get their food themselves but use reader's home as a place of refuge.

Maybe the way the three of them meet their S/O was finding out that Alternates were being warded off from there. Idk, I haven't had a chance to get fully invested in MC but the idea just sounds really interesting. Also, I have the mental image of a Mimic putting away the dishes and someone's immediate reaction is screaming "What the FUCK is that?!?!" And just getting this whole explanation of what it is and that this one and all the others are friendly despite it needing to be reminded that the human in front of them is not food.

I LOVE that mental image you described. Mimics just doing chores and human things, only to see an actual human look at them absolutely HORRIFIED

........

Mark

He was relieved to get away from the Alternate-populated Mandela County for a while.

But when you answer the door while preparing dinner, you called out for James (one of the male Mimics you named) to stay in the kitchen...

Without realizing how extremely suspicious that sounded until you saw the look on Mark's face. "Who's James?"

"Oh! He's uh...can you wait here while I-?"

"Is he your new roommate or something?" He jumps to conclusions immediately, thinking you're cheating on him as you never told him you lived with another person.

In anger he storms past you to confront this "James" you were apparently being so secretive about....

Before you could stop him, he sees the Mimic and freaks out, causing it to drop the plate it was holding and screams right back at him.

You're quick to disperse the situation before it becomes a bloodbath, but by then it's too late. Mark was thoroughly traumatized.

When you mentioned living with creatures who kept the local Alternate population out of your town..he didn't think they'd be be skinless humans.

He locked himself in your bathroom, trying to stave off a panic attack as he recites his prayers, convinced there was "evil" hanging over your house.

Eventually he lets you in and you help him calm down, reassuring him that wasn't the case at all before explaining the Mimics and their role in your household, answering whatever questions he had (which were a LOT).

"Even if they're not demons....why would God make something like that?"

"Maybe..it's the same reason he made the platypus."

"......that's not the same, s/o."

"I know, I'm just trying to help."

Jonah

He's made jokes about the Mimics before.

But he didn't think they were real living and breathing creatures you were coexisting with.

He swears he was smoking something when he saw one wearing your clothes and sweeping the floor with a broom like any ordinary person would.

At first he tries to be chill about it as to not freak you out..

Until he goes into your pantry for a snack and finds shelves with jars filled to the brim with Crawl sticks.

As well as a Mimic curled up on the highest shelf, asleep.

Next thing you know, Jonah's dry heaving over the nearest trash can.

"Babe for the love of GOD please tell me that I'm on some weird ass trip because I can't handle this rn"

"...well maybe if you didn't brush off my research, you wouldn't be as scared." You pat his back before glaring at the Mimic who was just seconds away from lunging at your boyfriend at his most vulnerable moment.

"Jonah, sweetie..rule number one is to never turn your back on a Mimic unless you're running away from it." You make him turn around to face it, and they stare at each other before it eventually calms down and leaves.

Even after you explained how you "tamed" the Mimics, he's too scared to leave your side or be alone in the same room with one.

Their permanent smiles and wide eyes just...give him the chills. Even if they're just staring with curiosity, he always insists it's a look of hunger.

They are aware he's dating you and will playfully threaten to eat him, but never actually go through with it bc you'd probably kick them out and leave them without food.

Adam

(gonna make this post-Catalyst)

He's having a tough time keeping the relationship alive and coping with being an Alternate--a secret he only recently shared with you.

Despite him being the first one you've ever encountered, you're not all that afraid. Just surprised.

You confess to having your own secret to share, taking him to your home where you could talk about it more.

He keeps asking how you could trust him with anything when he looked like a hideous monster. But you reassured him he'll understand soon enough.

After you arrive, he sees the Crawl trees behind your house, but thinks nothing of it until you bring him inside.

You whistle and a Baby Mimic comes skittering towards you on all fours, climbing onto you like a koala bear before you turn back to your boyfriend, smiling.

It takes him a second to connect the dots. "....wait, that's a....Vita Carnis...i-it's a real thing??"

"They've always have been."

"Wow, this is...one hell of a secret. D-Does..that Mimic know what I am?"

"The adults can usually tell, but this little bugger thinks you're tasty food." You scratch the baby Mimic's chin, hearing it coo sweetly as it nibbled on your jacket strings. "But you see why I'm not scared of you? Because I've made peace with these "hideous monsters", just like I've made peace with what you told me."

He tears up at your sweet and kind words, though he listens as you introduce him to the "helpers" of your household aka the adult Mimics who wore your clothing and were doing different tasks.

They all kinda stared at Adam as he awkwardly greeted them, but didn't do anything more.

It's strangely comforting that they perceive him as a human.

At the same time, he feels lucky to not look appetizing to them.

[shradsmanifestt]

Hi Shrad!! I'd like to tell you that your blog is so awesome and i think that you clearly explained everything necessary in your posts. (Btw English is not my native language so i'm sorry for my mistakes) It's just that there is kinda like a limiting mentality stuck with me even though i succeeded in conscious manifestation so many times.

I am good at manifesting new things in my life out of nowhere, but my manifestations are like stuff i deem as "possible" For example, i manifested moving out, dating my boyfriend, my family being rich etc.

These desires all felt like not impossible things to me before and they had the probability to happen so it wasn't hard for me to manifest them

Where i limit myself is revision. I believe in revision of course but when it comes to applying, idk revising death, someone's age, grade, school etc. These feel like impossible to me so I fall in despair whenever i try revising things and give up easily.

I want to manifest my boyfriend to still be a high school student as if he never graduated and i want to revise my grandpa's death but these type things had already happened and they feel like set in stone if you know what i mean. I can manifest a new phone and a new house but they always had the probability to happen to begin with. But logically thinking, someone never has the probability to come back to life. Or being still at high school after graduation. And this mentality keeps ruining my manifestation because i can't go off limits

Everything is same when it comes to manifestation. There is no impossible case for this. The mind is neutral for everything. The only so called limits are the ones you place on yourself. If you can imagine it, you can have it. It's all a matter of choosing revision as the same as regular manifestation. Anything and everything is same to the mind.