#considering it’s the colour I have the most trouble with

[callmeagardengnome]

𓆩 bless me 𓆪 - chapter 1

w.c - 2.2k

pairings - demon!ateez ot8 x receptionist! fem! reader

genre - demon au, hint of royal au, possible yandere themes (?), romance

sypnosis: as hell’s receptionist, you only wished to talk shit and stay out of trouble. yet, you happened to be the one that the two social clans in hell start fighting for.

not proofread!

previous / next

masterlist

Click clack. Click clack. You’ve gotten used to the sounds of keyboard typing. Why wouldn’t you be after hearing it everyday for almost 4 centuries?

As Hell’s receptionist, your job was to check in arrivals daily. A new soul arrives, another contract is signed and they are officially Hell’s inhabitant forever. It’s a pretty simple task, one that you’ve learned to appreciate. Unfortunately for you, the job comes with another responsibility.

You have the ‘lovely’ privilege of listening and attending to complaints. From the wails of the Dead to the petty protests of demons, your days are filled with discontent and irritancy.

As thrilling as it sounds, you find yourself being bored most of the time. Nothing exciting ever happens. You hear the same complaints everyday - all yap yap yap. You could not care less about soothing the Dead or settling another demon squabble.

Today felt no different, the neon red sign flickered above your desk, signalling that someone was entering your office space. You straightened your posture and adjusted your nameplate that read, “Receptionist of the Damned.”

Your eyes scanned over to your visitor and you immediately recoiled in disgust, “Ugh.. please leave the air that I’m breathing.”

“Come on.. haven’t I seen you enough times that we’re basically best friends?” the demon in front of you asked as he batted his eyelashes.

Wooyoung, the most annoying demon you’ve ever met, leaned over your desk with his signature smirk plastered on his face.

“Sir, you look like my sleep paralysis demon. Please leave my office,” you said sternly as you signalled to the door.

“My dear receptionist, you wound me..” he pouted dramatically, not taking your words seriously at all. “At least listen to what I have to say...”

You sighed. “It’s another complaint about the Eternals isn’t it-“

“You know it is,” Wooyoung sneered, his voice dripping with disdain, contrasting his playful personality earlier.

To put it simply, Hell has three social factions:

The highest faction - The Eternals. They are royalty, demons that need to be treated with the utmost respect. They’re the richest demons that you would find in Hell. Eternals have purple horns, ones that reached high above their heads, almost touching each other. While their horns could be used to distinguish them, their snobbish and stuck-up personality was more than enough.

The lowest faction - The Halas. If you were born a Halas, you’ve lost all hope of having a calm life. A Hala would have stubby red horns and sharp fangs. Despite making up 97% of the demon population, a Hala gets the worst treatment out of the three social classes - mainly due to their aggressive personalities. Most of them are poor and extremely money-hungry. Since they are greedy, they don’t normally make friends with each other. In fact, a Halas’ death mostly happens due to their own kind.

Last but not least, your own faction - The Walkers. The Walkers are typically neutral in everything. Money, social treatment, et cetera. Walkers have jet black horns, almost like the colour of soot. The Walkers are the rarest social class. They are in every government-related job as they are considered ‘impartial’. Having a connection with a Walker is vital for your social class to be stronger.

Money, surprisingly, was an important aspect in Hell. It allowed you to buy a house, have a family or spend it on gambling. It was sought for by so many that it has led to many riots in the past.

Wooyoung is a Hala, with a burning hatred for Eternals. His resentment towards them grew every time he visited, a fire that never seemed to burn out. “They think they can own everything,” he continued, his voice laced with anger. “They walk all over our territory with their big ass boots and claim it as theirs.”

You nodded, taking mental notes. It was a familiar complaint, yet there was more rage since his previous visit. “I’ll file your case, Wooyoung. But you know the process- it would take at least two weeks.”

Wooyoung scoffed, crossing his arms. “We don’t have time. You don’t understand- the Halas are planning a revolt.”

A revolt? His words caught you off guard and for the first time in a while, you felt surprised. Having a revolt is startling enough - but Halas revolting? It was unheard of to have them working together for a cause. You quickly shook off the feelings of shock and composed yourself.

“That’s a very bold claim.. but I’m confused of why you’re so worried. I thought you liked chaos?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wooyoung’s expression darkened, the usual glint in his eyes disappearing. “Chaos? Yes. But this? This is destruction, ‘____’. The Eternals will soon crush us and tear Hell apart. That includes you.”

You leaned back into your chair, the weight of his words dawning on you at full force. A revolt of this scale would disrupt all of the progress that has been built over the centuries.

You sighed as you ran your fingers through your hair. “If I file this case under ‘urgent’, its going to attract a lot of attention. The kind that gets me in a lot of trouble.”

Wooyoung leaned closer to you, grabbing your jaw. He pulled your ear closer to his mouth, making sure that you could hear every word he said.

“I don’t care if you get in trouble- I’m not asking you to take sides. All I’m asking is for you to understand that this isn’t another petty complaint. This is our survival. The Halas can’t take this shit anymore.”

Complaints in Hell were rarely put under ‘urgent’. Since you had all the time in the world, you had no reason to put a complaint in that section. Also, adding a complaint there also meant that journalists and news outlets could view it - drawing attention to the whole ordeal.

You took a deep breath, thinking through your options carefully. You always prided yourself on remaining impartial but the severity of the situation at hand made you think otherwise.

“Fine.. I’ll do it,” you caved. “But you need to keep things calm on your end.”

Wooyoung smirked, stepping back from your desk. “Anything for my dear receptionist.”

Your face morphed in horror as he blew a kiss to you before leaving the room. You mulled over the whole situation that just came to light. This wasn’t just another day in Hell, it was the beginning of something way more sinister.

You typed out a formal complaint about the situation, the sounds of the keyboard being more overwhelming than usual.

You printed it out, giving it your stamp of approval - a kiss stain. You walked over to the other side of your office and finally dropped the paper into the ‘urgent’ chute.

“Sire, look at this,” Duke Seonghwa said while holding a newspaper article in his hands.

The lord looked up from his desk, his interest piqued. Seonghwa’s expression was unusually troubled and the urgency in his voice made it possible to ignore. He took the newspaper, his eyes scanning the headline.

“This can’t be true..” the lord muttered, his face darkened as he read further.

“The Halas have gotten bolder,” Seonghwa continued. “We cannot afford dismiss this as a another rumour.”

The lord’s eyes flicked back to Seonghwa’s, “Summon the rest here immediately, we need to address this.”

“Yes my lord,” Seonghwa replied, bowing slightly before scurrying off to find the others.

The lord reread the newspaper article again, fingers gripping the pages harder and harder, almost tearing them.

As the leader of the Eternals and the King of Hell, Lord Hongjoong knew that maintaining power was his absolute priority. Any threat to his title would not be taken lightly.

Not long after you filed the complaint, the atmosphere in your office shifted. The temperature seemed to drop and an eerie silence took over your surroundings. The neon red sign above your desk started to flicker violently.

The doors burst open with a deafening crash and several Eternals stormed in with their purple horns glistening ominously in the dim light.

“Receptionist!” a voice boomed, making you freeze in your place. “Explain this!” the demon held a crumpled newspaper article in front of you.

You kept your expression neutral, “General Mingi, that is a concern brought forth by a Hala.”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed as he took a step closer, “This isn’t just a ‘concern’, they’re revolting. How could you standby something this preposterous?”

The other demons behind him murmured in agreement. The air in the room grew thick with tension and you could feel their rage simmering from beneath their composed state.

“I’m not standing by the Halas, General,” you replied calmly. “It’s in everyone’s best interest to address the issue than to escalate it. Ignoring it could lead to disorder.”

Mingi wrinkled his nose, his words sharp and filled with malice, “Know your place, Walker. You’re here to serve, not test our authority.”

He signaled his troop with a flick of the wrist and they began to walk of the room, stepping on the debris they created.

You let out a deep sigh. You were relieved that they left you alone. However, you knew that the Eternals would go above and beyond to get their way.

For centuries, the Eternals have been known in their attempts to get rid of the Halas. The Eternals believed that the Halas were unworthy of sharing the same realm as them. To them, the Halas were a stain in an otherwise perfect Hell.

Efforts to rid the Halas have been unsuccessful, after all, they did make up for the majority of the population. Due to their population size, it had been getting tougher to assign jobs fairly to each of them.

Even as Hell’s receptionist, you’re unable to do much for the issue. All you could do was file complaints that angered someone. You found yourself caught in the middle, witnessing a storm brewing right in front of your eyes.

You filed a maintenance complaint, hoping that your door would get fixed by next day. You gathered your things and quickly dashed out of the door - at the end of the day, you wouldn’t want to get jumped by a demon, would you?

As you scurried back home, weaving through the streets, you felt someone grab your hand before dragging you to a dark alleyway.

“What the-“

“What are you trying to pull, Walker?” the hooded figure hissed as he pinned you to the wall.

You scoffed. “Who do you think you are?” With a swift motion, you kicked the figure in the stomach, causing him to release his hold. Taking the chance, you reached up and yanked his hood down, revealing his identity.

“Duke?” you exclaimed in surprise when you saw Seonghwa’s face.

You’ve never seen the Duke in real life, only in photographs - which did not do his gorgeous features justice. He always stood next to Lord Hongjoong, rarely leaving his side. “What are you doing out of the palace? I thought you were the king’s boy-toy?” you asked with a smirk.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Walker,” he spat out, his voice oozing with venom. “Don’t defy me.”

“I’ll ‘defy’ anyone that drags me to a random alley,” you retorted.

With a snarl, he lunged forward, throwing a punch at your face. You ducked in time, feeling the wind from his fist that nearly hit his target. You countered with a kick to his shin, causing him to stumble back with a curse.

He went at you again, his movements fuelled by fury. You dodged his blows with ease - each strike he aimed at you slowly getting more aggressive.

You finally saw an opening. You managed to catch him off guard and delivered a powerful punch to the gut, leaving him gasping for air. As he staggered back in pain, you took a step back, preparing yourself for whatever he would do next.

Surprisingly, he stayed down. His hands clutched his stomach and he wheezed for breath. For a moment, the alleyway was filled with the sounds of his laboured breathing. Did you really hit him that hard?

“Shit- how are you so strong?” he coughed out, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of shame and respect.

“I thought it was common knowledge that all Walkers are trained in combat,” you replied, confused. “And I’m not that good.. I think you’re just weak..”

Seonghwa flipped you off before you threw him a mini med-kit that you carried with you at all times.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell anyone about this,” you said. “It’s not only bad for me- it’s embarrassing for you. You challenged a Walker to a fight without any skills.”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance as he gave a small nod. Seonghwa started to patch himself up, placing band-aids over the scratches on his body.

You gave him a sly grin, “Sit still and look pretty next time.” With a cackle, you decided to take your leave. You didn’t know whether Seonghwa contacted his friends and you didn’t want to risk getting caught by staying longer.

You bolted home, clutching your bag close to yourself. Despite the turn of events today, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline. Things were becoming too boring in Hell - maybe a revolt is necessary.

author’s note: please make sure to support my fic - all likes and reposts are much appreciated. any feedback is welcome <3

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[novlr]

Hello! Do you have any advice for indecisiveness when creating characters? I don't have much trouble with creating conflict, but figuring out my characters is difficult. I'm working on a character-driven story, and I have an internal conflict, I'm just not sure how the story will manifest. The worst part is I can't even find advice online because all character advice is about character development, making your characters complex, etc.... My problem is I don't know what my character is doing. I'm talking about their occupation. Student? Corporate job? Architect? Artist? My conflict is good to go but now I'm stuck here...

As a writer, creating characters who are believable and relatable is one of the most crucial aspects of storytelling. However, many writers struggle with indecisiveness when it comes to creating their characters, especially when it comes to their occupations and how their stories will manifest.

You get to mould your characters into whatever form you like, but it’s easy to suffer from choice paralysis when you’re confronted with the entirety of human experience, both real and imagined. The good news is, if you already know your story conflict, then you can actually narrow down and be a bit more targeted in how you go about creating characters.

Start with the basics

When creating a character, it’s essential to start with the basics. This includes their name, age, gender, physical appearance, and personality traits. These fundamental elements will serve as the foundation for your character and help you build upon them as you develop their story. Come up with these by asking yourself a series of questions with your story conflict and theme firmly in your mind.

Name: Choose a name that fits your character’s personality and background. Consider their age, culture, and the time period in which your story takes place. And don’t be afraid to use a random name generator or even a placeholder—there’s always a chance to change your mind in the editing phases.

Age: Determine your character’s age by how it influences their behaviour, beliefs, and experiences. Would an older or a younger characters respond to their conflict differently? And which better suites the story you want to tell?

Gender: Decide on your character’s gender and how it shapes their identity and interactions with others. Will your story’s conflict play out differently if your character’s gender expression were reversed, or if they were non-binary?

Physical appearance: Describe your character’s physical features, such as their height, weight, hair colour, and any distinguishing characteristics. Unfortunately there’s no easy way to do that. You just have to use your imagination and commit.

Personality traits: Identify your character’s key personality traits, such as their strengths, weaknesses, fears, and desires. These should relate to your character’s goal and conflict in some way.

Explore their background

Once you have a basic understanding of your character, it’s time to delve into their background. This includes their family history, upbringing, education, and any significant life events that have shaped who they are. Their background can feed directly into the conflict, as it can be a great source of pressure for how your plot develops.

Family history: Explore your character’s relationships with their family members, or how not having a family unit around them affects them as a person. Consider how their family dynamics have influenced their beliefs, values, and behaviours and how this can feed into their internal and external conflicts.

Upbringing: Determine where your character grew up and how their environment has shaped their worldview. Did they have a happy childhood, or did they face challenges and adversity? Did this affect their career choices?

Education: Decide on your character’s level of education and how it has impacted their career opportunities and whether it feeds into their internal conflict.

Significant life events: Identify any pivotal moments in your character’s life that have had a lasting impact on their personality and behaviour. Do they have any direct or indirect relationship with your story’s conflict and theme?

Determine their occupation

One of the most challenging aspects of creating characters is deciding on their occupation. This is especially true for writers who are working on character-driven stories and have a clear internal conflict but are unsure how the story will take shape. So how can we make that easier?

Consider their skills and interests: What is your character naturally good at? What do they enjoy doing? Their occupation should align with their skills and interests.

Think about their personality: How does your character’s personality influence their career choices? Are they ambitious and driven, or are they more laid-back and content with a simple life?

Explore their background: How has your character’s upbringing and education influenced their career path? Did they follow in their family’s footsteps, or did they forge their own path? Did they overcome adversity to reach where they are now, or were they barred from certain opportunities because of an educational, physical, or social handicap?

Consider the story’s themes: How does your character’s occupation tie into the overall themes and message of your story? Can their job serve as a metaphor or symbol for something deeper?

Connect the dots

Once you have a clear understanding of your character’s basics, background, and occupation, it’s time to connect the dots and see how these elements influence their internal conflict and the conflict and theme of the overall story.

Identify the internal conflict: What is your character struggling with internally? Is it a moral dilemma, a personal struggle, or a conflict between their desires and responsibilities?

Explore how their background influences the conflict: How has your character’s upbringing, family history, and significant life events contributed to their internal conflict?

Consider how their occupation ties into the conflict: Does your character’s job create additional challenges or pressures that exacerbate their internal conflict?

Think about how the conflict will manifest in the story: How will your character’s internal struggle play out in the plot? Will they face external challenges that force them to confront their internal conflict?

In summary

Creating compelling characters is a crucial aspect of storytelling, but it can be challenging for writers who struggle with indecisiveness. By starting with the basics, exploring your character’s background, determining their occupation, and connecting the dots between these elements and both their internal and the story conflict, you’ll be well on your way to creating characters that will bring your stories to life.

Remember, character creation is a process, and it’s okay to take your time and explore different options until you find what works best for your story. Don’t be afraid to experiment and make changes as you go along. With practice and persistence, you’ll become more confident in your ability to create compelling characters that resonate with readers

[freckleslikestars]

4 and a half hours of tracked time and I’ve only got 22 out of 140 squares finished. How do people go fast with art because like…I’m not being particularly detailed with this but by god is it time consuming.

[stevieschrodinger]

I don't know, ficlet AU sort of thing.

Alpha Steve has a YouTube channel that, kind of, started by accident. Steve is not the most confident reader, like, at all. The words get kind of muddled and he got into a habit of just sort of trying to rush it, figuring he was going to mess it up anyway, so get it over with, right? And then he just sort of stops reading, even though he enjoyed it, because he couldn't get his brain to slow down and the muddling got worse and...yeah.

So one day, his platonic soul mate bestie suggests he read out loud. To someone. If he reads every word out one at a time, knowing it has to be clear enough for the other person to follow, that'll slow him down.

So, he tries it, but only for Robin. And it sort of works, kind of, and then she hits on him using something so he can only see the line he's reading, like a bit of card with a letterbox cut in it, and...Steve is on fire.

The words don't get muddled up so much, and his reading is slow and even, and he needs to read to someone, and Robin can't always be there. It becomes his own pet project, he reads out little bits of books he likes, parts of articles he has enjoyed, poems, whatever, and starts his own little you tube that has like, five followers, and they're all people he knows.

And then suddenly, almost overnight, Steve finds himself with four thousand followers. A very large portion of them are very clearly Omega, from the comments, and Steve suddenly finds himself with a lot of fans who are using his videos for white noise. He's literally reading thousands of Omegas off to sleep.

Which is...nice. Steve likes it. The hits and followers on his videos seem to settle down after a couple of weeks, and then, after having so many comments about how settling Steve's voice is, how the Alpha is relaxing and safe. Steve thinks fuck it.

As a test, he makes a ten minute video directly for that audience. He builds a nest, films it POV. He films the view of someone walking through the bedroom door, of what they would see as they climb into the nest, then resting the camera on his own chest.

Then he starts talking. Tells the omega how perfect they are, how much he cares for them, wants to protect, keep safe. How soft they are as he pets them, how warm and cosy they are in their nest. How snuggles with the omega are Steve's favourite thing.

He deliberately keeps everything as vague and gender neutral as he can. The video fucking explodes. Goes viral. Millions of hits, thousands and thousands of followers. Robin and the kids think it's hilarious, and encourage him to keep going, claiming he's doing a public service.

Hundreds of copycats spring up, but no one pulls it off quite like Steve.

He knows there are Omega out there getting off to his videos, despite there being absolutely nothing sexual about them, but Steve figures, whatever makes people happy.

He gets so many positive comments, omega telling him how much comfort he brings them. He has some regular commenters that he gets to know, too, which is nice. Sometimes he even takes requests, small things, the colour of his shirt, the time of day he shoots his videos, certain words and phrases.

One supportive commenter always stands out though : EdDio86. Steve's pretty sure he's male omega, and he's always so grateful when Steve posts a new video. The guy clearly has a lot of trouble sleeping, and apparently Steve really helps. They have a little back and forth in the comments, learning little bits about one another. Steve likes this omega.

Steve also gets the impression the omega is sorely lacking any comfort in his life. Considering the length of his comments, the guy never asks for anything.

Until he does.

At the end of a comment, always ever so politely thanking Steve, EdDio86 admits he's 'in a bit of a pickle' and could Steve, please, do a video where 'the omega' is with pup? Could Steve tell the omega that the pup is fine, and healthy, and that the omega is doing good and the pup is okay and everything will be okay...but cool if not. Bit of a weird request, I know, sorry to be a bother.

And Steve suddenly doesn't give a shit about the consequences of just,,,dropping his personal email out into the world like that, because he wants to tell this guy these things personally.

[cvntyworld]

I literally adored your Lucy Maclean fic. Would you ever consider writing for her again but maybe with a sort of sunshine / sunshine protector trope going on.

sugar and spice ( lucy maclean )

summary: you didn't know what it was about the vaultie that had you keeping a closer eye on her, maybe it was a protective instinct, how naive she was up on the surface compared to how she is in her vault. you'd known about peoples hatred towards the vaults and she stuck out like a sore thumb, and usually you would ignore it, let them be eaten alive by the harsh truth of the surface, so why you were protective of her was a mystery even to lucy maclean herself.

contents: usual fallout shenanigans, sunshine lucy with a sunshine protector reader, violence, grumpy and unsure reader and happy and confident lucy, reader has to keep lucy out of dangerous situations a lot of the time, lucy is determined to see the good in people, mainly platonic as of now but can be seen as romantic, ect...

It amazed you how clever Lucy Maclean was, but how in certain moments, she seemed so naive.

Most vault dwellers were naive, not that you'd met many of them, you'd seen one in passing when you were seven years old and that was a long time ago. You always have thought the blue and yellow suits were rather strange to see, everyone else didn't have the opportunity to wear a lot of colours, most improvising with stitched clothes or worn down fabrics. So, when you saw her, walking with her hands clutching her backpack straps and smiling at anyone who looked at her, you immediately knew that a sense of trouble would be occurring soon. People on the surface hated vault dwellers, fuck the vaults, that's what most spat out at the mention of them, you knew that as soon as she had said good morning to Jonah Junior, an unsettling young man with yellowing teeth, that she was expecting a greeting back, but when he continued to be his usual self and sharpen his blade with a glare, she had faltered cautiously and backtracked.

That's how she met you, her determination to have some sort of conversation with Jonah Junior had you walking a little faster, somewhat worried for her. Jonah Junior was at least scared of you and scuttered off when he had seen you approaching, his fear of you even having him utter a goodbye to the vault dweller who smiled when he left, as if she had won at something for once up here. You didn't know why you felt the need to give her a few warnings of what people were actually like on the surface, but it was needed, you could tell by her smile that she thought that everything up here would be easy peasy when it was not, that was a lesson she'd need to learn and fast.

You had taken a hold of her arm and began to walk with a look of annoyance at her protests, how she claims that if you didn't unhand her that she would make you but you'd only scoffed out a laugh in response, shoving her inside a somewhat home you had and turning to her with a raised brow. "Have you got a death wish, honey?" Her eyes were wide with confusion, staring at you innocently, "What are you talking about? I was just making conversation." With a sigh, you sit down across from her and gesture over to the door, "Jonah Junior was probably planning on killing you and then eating you, his daddy is Jonah Senior, he's known around these parts for selling human limbs." With horrified eyes, she swallows down the lump of fear then meets your gaze, "Why are you telling me this?" She asks cautiously and you roll your eyes, "I'm telling you cause I have a conscience unlike most folks round here, all them people out there would've let you talk away to Jonah Jr, newcomers don't last in this town, they're either passing through or butchered and made into rations."

Lucy seems to shrink in her seat, slightly worried when it caught her attention that you had a pack of rations right beside you on the table, "So you're saying these people... Everyone here is a cannibal!?" Her voice raised and you're quick to shush her, "Keep your voice down, vaultie!" She's horrified, you can tell by the look on her face, "You didn't answer my question!" You sigh, "Yeah, most folks here are cannibals but they prefer the term fleshatarians, makes it sound more humane, sick fuckers!"

"So you aren't a cannibal?" She asks doubtfully and your scoff basically answers her, "God no, I'm not a monster!" Lucy sighs in relief at your confirmation and stands up, a smile on her face as she holds out her hand, "My name's Lucy, Lucy Maclean!" You nod and shake her hand, "Well then Lucy, you best scedaddle before the town starts to work up an appetite for vault dweller." Lucy frowns and is immediately disappointed when you start to open up the door for her to leave, "The next towns about ten minutes or so from here, you can get there before dark, there's an old house with a red door, ask for Lorna, she'll give you a room for the night." Lucy glances at you unsurely, "Which way am I going?" Your eyes glance up at the sun to gain a sense of direction and nod at her, "Head south, you'll find it." She smiles, "Thank you for your hospitality, I'll be sure to repay you if I ever see you again..." The vault dweller is soon trailing off, a hint that she didn't know your name as of so far and so you utter it out and nod at her that you're done with the conversation and for once she understood your hint and waved as she exited your home.

When you glance out the window, you see the wavers of blue and yellow passing and heading the wrong way, for a vault dweller, she had a terrible sense of direction, you were sure those pip boys had built in maps. "You've gotta be kidding..." You mutter in disbelief, watching as she was growing further and further away, confident steps as if it was all sunshine and rainbows out here. You shrugged on your jacket, and opened the door, sighing in annoyance, a complete out of character move on your behalf as you're figure heads for the sandy road.

"Hey, vaultie, you're going the wrong way!"

"What the fudge!"

You had been travelling with Lucy Maclean for a week, a long week. You had walked her over to the town next to your own and unfortunately your old pal Lorna was dead so there was no room at the inn for you or poor Lucy. It's shitty luck, being stuck with a vault dweller who is not as discreet as she thinks. You don't know why you chose her as a travelling companion, it was an odd choice, and you didn't even like her all that much. You'd be rid of her once she found her dad, that's why she was up here.

Another thing you'd grown used to was her odd sayings, things you'd hear in the olden times, words like golly or a cheerful okey dokey, it was like whiplash to hear, but you also found it quite humourous. So when she mentioned a fudge like she usually did, that was code for either shock or amazement or even horror, three emotions that you're aware of through that sentence. You paused, coming to a stop when you noticed her staring at something with her big doe eyes. "What's got you so excited?" You ask with a tired tone and she turns to you with a soft smile, making a gesture for you to come closer, and so you did, staring in the direction she faced with a look of confusion. "Wow, a lake, how exciting." You say dryly, but Lucy was way too excited to care for your sarcasm, "Isn't this great, we can fill our canteens, maybe even wash up!" She approached the water quickly, not noticing the ripples developing by the surface. Fortunately, you had spotted it quickly and hurried after her before she could even step foot in that water, your hand gripped her backpack and yanked her backwards, the two of you falling back just as one of the giant mutated fish lunged for her, missing by inches.

"Holy Moly!" She uttered out, shocked at the sight, you'd merely sighed out a laugh at her words, "Another rule for you, don't go near water unless it's dirty." She nodded at you, still startled as you helped her to her feet.

"I can't wait to go home."

"You and me both."

Lucy Maclean was a pretty face so she was bound to get some disgusting unwanted attention. Whether it be while passing through towns and having people whistle at her, usually being shut down by you glaring at them or by her whistling back at them thinking nothing of it and making them uncomfortable, people were curious creeps and in your honest opinion should've been shot dead but Lucy was insistent on that not being an option, because of the golden rule, whatever the fuck that meant.

You had been gone for all of five minutes when some old creep of a man had decided to take his chance and start some sleazy conversation with the vault dweller and you knew immediately what his intentions were, but you saw how Lucy smiled at him and conversed politely, she even went as far as to show him a photo of her dad and ask if he'd seen him and when the man started spinning a load of bullshit, you approached with a glare and made your presence known by standing next to Lucy. "It's time for us to go now, Lucy." You warn and she shakes her head, gesturing to the man in front of you, "Can it wait, he has information about my dad." You scoff at this, how naive she could be when it came to her father, "Lucy, this man doesn't know shit, he's just saying he knows because he thinks he'll get something out of it."

"I am right here, you know?" The man says and you give him a once over, disgusted, "Do you know who Moldaver is?" You ask him and he nods, "Everyone knows who she is, even the fiends." You stare at him with annoyance and clear your throat, "Right, and do you know where she is?" The sleazy man shakes his head and so you turn back to Lucy with a shrug, "Told you, he doesn't know shit, now lets get the fuck out of this place."

You turn Lucy around and she gives a smile to the man, a wave as you pull her away from him, "It was nice to meet you, Sir!" You sigh at her words and she turns to you with a frown when she notices your disappointment, "He was being nice!" You keep walking and she hurries to stay at the same pace as you, "What is your problem? Sure, we ran into some unfriendly people while travelling, but not everyone is a bad person!" She defends and you turn to her with a pointed finger, "You don't know shit, Lucy!" A wave of silence overcame the two of you as you stared at her unsure gaze, "You don't know shit." You mutter once more before turning around to walk, not even caring this time to see if she followed or not.

When you first opened up to her, it was in the middle of the night, neither of you could sleep and she was talking about some movie she used to watch with her dad down in the vault. The way she described it, how her eyes were sparkling with excitement when she told you about how the main character had a dog, how her dad was always a big fan of the actor in those movies. She wanted to get to know you, learn a few things, you were a closed book and she was desperate to open it up and read it carefully.

So you started with something small, she had spoken of movies and television and so you smiled sadly at her, she was waiting patiently for you to speak. "I've never actually watched a movie before..." Lucy frowned at this, "Oh, I'm sorry, now I feel insensitive for bringing it up." She uttered out and you shook your head, "Don't apologise, we have televisions up here but my daddy didn't give a shit about movies, said it was old world crap." You scratched at your head tiredly, "He didn't like the actor anyway, said that he played the same characters every time." Lucy gasps, her eyes widening in disbelief, "My dad was the opposite, he always went on some rant or rave about the guys range." You shrug, taking a sip of your water, "Doesn't matter all that much, the guy probably died 200 years ago." Lucy's smile fades and she turns to you curiously, "Isn't it wrong to insult dead people?" You're quiet for a moment before shrugging, "I insult people who are alive, don't think that makes much of a difference if they're alive or dead."

Lucy laughs at your words and then turns to you, "How about once I find my dad, you come and live with us? I can invite you to my house for movie nights, I have this feeling you'll love the movie a man and his dog, my dad told me they used the actors real dog for the movie, it's honestly kinda sweet."

You think for a moment, life on the surface full of shitty people or a life of luxury in some vault with Lucy, the girl you had surprisingly grown fond of over time. You meet her hopeful gaze and shrug.

"Why the fuck not, let's do it."

[haikyu-mp4]

I’d say it’s destiny

word count; 1605 – f!reader, implied age gap

Osamu and Atsumu weren’t completely identical, as some might know. Most notably, they decided to dye their hair differently in high school and it made the contrast of their eye colours stand out more.

However, one scenario it always worked for was substitute teachers. Osamu really didn’t mind stepping in for Atsumu today, because it meant he owed him later, but he totally forgot he was stepping in at all when he saw you.

Fresh out of university and first-time substitute teacher.

And you were crazy good-looking.

So when you were taking attendance and asked for Miya Atsumu, it went something like this…

“Here!”

“Hello, Miya,” you said, just like you did with all the other students because some teacher you once had said it made the pupils feel seen. Perhaps they weren’t considering high school students though.

“Call me Osamu,” he said with that trademark smirk he borrowed from his twin as if he was acting his part despite saying the complete opposite.

“…Atsumu?” you read off the paper, with no intention of using his given name but still curious about the name change. Suna already had his phone out in his lap, camera peeping just over the edge of his desk to film this.

“No, that’s my stupid brother.”

“So why are you… here then?”

Osamu slowly deflated, not looking as confident as he did a few seconds ago. Right, he’s not actually in this class. “I’d say it’s destiny?”

You blinked for a moment. This was not what you expected on your first day, and you weren’t quite sure what to do. Do you send him to the principal’s office? At least he’s getting an extra lesson, his apparent twin is the one who missed his. “Come to my desk after class, Miya,” you said strictly before moving on to the rest of the list, not missing the way some brunette kid snorted in the corner as Osamu agreed like you asked him out for dinner.

“You wanted to see me?” Osamu said, a cocky smirk back on his face and bag slung over his shoulder. You frowned, trying your best not to find it funny.

“Not like that, but you know it’s not okay to attend in someone else’s place?” you started, still not decided on how to lecture him properly. Fortunately, you had the number of another teacher that gave you some help.

He sat down on the chair on the other side of your desk. “I’m sorry my brother gave you trouble. What did you say your name was?” he asked, earning another squinted glare from you.

You ignored the comment and question, sighing and looking at the post-it note stuck to your schedule, scribbled with a name. “I was told I should talk to Kita Shinsuke about this, so unless you have something better to say, I think we should move along to find him and your brother.”

Osamu felt like the colour might have drained from his face, thinking of facing both his idiot brother’s complaints and Kita’s cold lecture at the same time. “Oh, uhh…”

You gave him a small smile, standing up already. “They should all be in the gym, right? Please show me the way there, I still get lost.”

Osamu would be damned if you kept smiling at him like that, making him stand right up with a sigh and hold the door open for you before leading you there. “Right this way, my lady.” At least he got to ask you about your favourite foods and other basic stuff that you didn’t mind answering on the way there.

Once again, he opened the door for you when you got to the gym, eyes quickly scanning around to see Suna already showing Atsumu the video. “Kita Shinsuke?” you asked loudly, looking around until you made eye contact with someone who seemed to respond to that name. The grey-haired boy came over, calmly asking you how he could help you while Osamu avoided eye contact but still didn’t want to leave your side. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, but another teacher told me you’re familiar with the problem. I had this Miya in my class while it should have been the other one,” you informed him, almost letting their given names slip off your tongue. Osamu was tuned into your voice, but it was difficult to ignore the agitating voice of his brother, which he heard in the background.

Kita nodded with a confirming sound, dark in his throat as he glared to the side at Osamu. “My apologies, I will make sure they receive the proper consequences,” he said and bowed to you.

Osamu looked at you with a sheepish smile. “Thank you for following me here, I’ll see you around?” he asked, using his possibly last moment alive to look at you one more time with every ounce of charm he had left.

You huffed a small laugh, nodding and turning around to find your way back. “Sure, have fun at practice, Miya.”

Kita and Atsumu were both angry, but who cares?

Osamu Miya was in love.

You saw Osamu around a couple more times while substituting for other teachers, even stepping in for the volleyball coach once. Now that, was something.

“What’d ya think, coach?” Osamu asked you, quite frankly looking like a puppy after spiking and turning to you. You sighed, once again trying to act indifferent and ignore him while also treating him like any other student.

“That was great!” you said with some enthusiasm, also leaning a bit to the side to look at his twin. “And a great set as well!” So now you had two flustered Miya twins.

“Let’s try the soul swap, ‘Samu!” Atsumu roared with newfound vigour, and you could see Kita about to protest.

“Here we go, I should film this,” Suna snickered from somewhere beside you, and you couldn’t help but agree.

After a year, you were offered a permanent position at another school in the prefecture, meaning you didn’t really see any students from Inarizaki again. You had almost forgotten them by the time you walked past a sign that said Onigiri Miya after going to an interview for a higher position in another school.

You tilted your head, squinting at the sign as you tried to remember where you heard that before, and then you looked down and through the window. Jaw slack, you were looking at a much more grown version of your biggest fan, Miya Osamu.

Walking in, you were overwhelmed with the delicious smell, your chest filling with air as you took in a long breath. Then you walked over to the short line, standing behind a rather burly man, meaning Osamu probably hadn’t seen you yet. You got a bit nervous, almost wondering if he would actually remember you or not.

Finally, the line moved along and you were face to face with a mouth-watering man. Mouth-watering food! He was even taller than in high school, shoulders broader and body a bit beefier from choosing this line of work but probably still maintaining some workouts.

You had to shake your head a bit when you realised you were just staring, plastering on a smile and then realising he was staring too, looking pleasantly surprised. Perhaps it was inappropriate to suddenly be interested in him, but while an awkward age difference stopped you from looking at him like this before, he was now an adult and you suddenly saw him in a new light.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully before huffing when he accidentally knocked over a cup of pens, scrambling to pick them all up again and shuffle them back into the cup. He glanced up at you with that familiar sheepish smile. “What can I get you today, teach?” he asked, applying the nickname to further emphasise that he remembered you.

You could feel your ears turning red as you pursed your lips, and you were about as beautiful as he remembered. “I’d like two tuna mayo onigiris, please,” you requested, pulling your card out to pay while he was watching your every move. He was glad he already had a lot of food prepared at this time of day so he wouldn’t have to leave this station to make them for you.

“I thought you liked salmon, want to try one on the house?” he asked, somehow remembering your conversations back in high school. You were shocked for a moment before nodding.

“If you insist.”

He smirked, and it was so familiar yet the feeling it gave you was so new and exciting. “I sure do,” he confirmed and then put one on a plate to hand it over. No one had come in after you yet, luckily. “I haven’t seen ya in a long time, do ya live close by?” he asked hopefully, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I’m out on a job interview actually,” you said, taking a bite of the onigiri and sighing with appreciation at how delicious it was. Truly made with love. “So who knows, maybe I’ll be around here more.”

“Then you’re more than welcome to stop by again.”

You smiled at him, and it was warmer than the ones he had received from you before. “I’d love that. It’s a bit far from where I live, though.” Your voice drifted off, unsure if you were oversharing because you were nervous.

“Oh? How did ya end up applying for a job here, then?” he asked, moving around to grab some fresh onigiri in a box for you and taking an extra breath to calm his heartbeat.

“I’d say it’s destiny.”

masterlist

[rpstartersinc]

* 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝟑: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏.

feel free to change pronouns / wording! potential spoilers!

" we have been apart for far too long. "

" seems as though your business is thriving. "

" there's no need to shout. "

" you've gotten rather good. "

" do you not wish to greet me? "

" i was nowhere and everywhere. "

" the lack of interest here today shall usher me to an early grave at any moment. "

" i simply could use some peace. "

" the truth has a way of rearing its ugly head. "

" i take it you are finally done with daydreaming? "

" do you find yourself back in town for any particular reason? in search of something or... someone? "

" i do not wish to see a citrus colour, ever again. "

" you have never been one for silly romances. "

" a man cannot tell his secrets. "

" i have kept your secret exactly because i do not wish to keep revisiting the past. "

" i must make a good impression. "

" i wonder what whistledown will write about next issue. "

" what a striking gown you have on. "

" i should like a moment alone. "

" once one finds oneself on the wall, it is difficult to come off it. "

" you do not much like attracting notice, do you? "

" it is a pity you did not choose something sturdier. "

" if you are going to make me say it out loud, i miss you. "

" what you did was cruel, and unnecessary. "

" i'm sorry for intruding. "

" it pains me to see you upset. "

" if a husband is what you seek, then... let me help you. "

" what i have learned is that charm can be taught. "

" i do love a game, especially when i am so often the victor. "

" i do not fear change, i embrace it. "

" i do not care what lady whistledown writes about me. "

" i should like to see your skills as they are, first. "

" i suggest you make good use of it. "

" you agree, i am unteachable. "

" you already know how to do this. "

" it is impossible to be in society and not care what others think. "

" do you think me a magician? "

" we needed a place to be alone. "

" you don't have to be embarrassed, you know me. "

" that's exactly why i will feel even more embarrassed, because i know you. "

" somehow my character gets lost between my heart and my mouth, and i find myself saying the wrong thing or more likely nothing at all. "

" your eyes are the most remarkable shade of blue. yet, somehow, they shine even brighter when you are kind. "

" your writing... it is very good. "

" they've taken to hunting in packs. "

" you know, whenever i have a disagreement with an acquaintance, i find the best course of action is simply to pretend they are dead. "

" talents? no. unless you consider a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time a talent. "

" now i can stuff my mouth with chocolates without fear of appearing impolite. "

" i do not much care for idle gossip. "

" i think i am somehow afraid i will do something wrong. "

" despite the cover of night, there are still eyes upon us all at all times. "

" what is foolish is being unreasonable about what you can achieve. "

" men can often cause much more trouble than they are worth. "

" i bribed her to give us a minute alone. "

" a small taste of the light can lead to that most dangerous of emotions: hope. "

" once hope is lost, a lady may become reckless. "

" would you kiss me? "

" i do not wish to die without ever having been kissed. "

" i apologise for the late hour, but i had to see you, immediately. "

" you occupy my every thought. "

" you slept late. "

" i slept peacefully. "

" a week sequestered in your room, and you come down and you say this to me? "

" i noticed you have not been seen in society for some time. "

" i would certainly rather be predator than prey. "

" i think i see a corner in which to hide myself. "

" you must simply follow your heart. "

" it is the mark of a good man, to help a friend in need. "

" unfortunately, i require all pity for myself. "

" i find your frankness immensely refreshing. "

" is there some reason you are trying to escape civilisation? "

" we can do whatever we want. "

" i have heard a great deal about you. "

" that was a thrilling distraction, was it not? "

" it was a good thing no one was injured. "

" a man can be pensive, can he not? "

" i am in awe of your heroism. "

" some cannot help being heroes. "

" in need of some quiet? i have been in search of it all night. "

" perhaps we can enjoy the silence together. "

" well, then you have misjudged me. "

" i am not afraid of you. "

" courage is within us all. "

" as long as we are honest with ourselves and about our feelings, it is possible to do anything. "

" the person i was earlier today... i was pretending to be someone i am not. "

" how many yous are there, exactly? and where do you hide them all? "

" i have come to call on you. "

" i do not wish to be called on. "

" step another pace backwards, you read me too well. "

" i do not wish to interfere. "

" i cannot have you growing distracted. "

" i do not mind a stirring tale or a book of fact but, in truth i find myself drawn back time and time again to stories of... love. "

" i do not believe i have ever had a friend call to the house before. "

" a gentleman must keep some things to himself. "

" do not tell me you are holding out for love. "

" love is make-believe. "

" do you know what is romantic? security. "

" i am grateful to you, for keeping me company. "

" past lives are dangerous places to revisit. "

" if you need to keep your distance from me a while, i understand. "

" you are unlike many people. "

" i do not feel much like talking. "

" i am not a man of many words. "

" my work has such a large portion of my heart it may be difficult to make more space. "

" i cannot stand by and watch you make a mistake. "

" the only mistake was me ever asking for your help in the first place. "

" it is said that the heart is forever making the head its fool. "

" will you please let us ride home in silence and leave me alone. "

" what if i did have feelings for you? "

" i have spent so long trying to feel less. "

" these past few weeks have been full of confounding feelings, feelings like a total inability to stop thinking about you. "

" do not say things you do not mean. "

" do you think anyone saw us? "

" are you going to marry me or not? "

[stqrgirlie0]

⋆✮theodore nott-pt 2✮⋆

part 1 / part 3 / part 4

the nott family has expanded with wealth over multiple generations, an abundance of wealth. perhaps not as much as the malfoy family, but certainly a fair share. considering this, one would think that theodore nott would be just as much of a prick as his father and every other male in his family is. however he’s not. quite the opposite actually, simply put- theodore is different. logically he wasn’t supposed end up how he has end up: as an actually nice human being, but i suppose we should thank his mother for this. Mrs Nott, born into the Shafiq family, derived from immense wealth as well the community of the Scared Twenty-eight. On a rainy night of March ‘86, Theodore, at the young age of 8, witnessed his mother’s murder by the hands of Rabastan Lestrange. Since then theo has frequent and violent flashbacks, keeping him up at night, leading to severe insomnia. Draco Malfoy is the first friend he befriends before joining Hogwarts, and so creating a strong brotherly bond between the two. theo is very fond of narcissa and thankful for her presence as a motherly figure, but of course this doesn’t stop him from missing the warmth of his mother..

Starting Hogwarts and making new friends wasn’t very hard for Theo, having spent most of his time by himself, in solitude, (or with Draco) theo had absolutely no problem in drowning out his surroundings. However this would have to change, he realised this as soon as he stepped into the great hall, bustling with students, nothing like theo had ever seen before. Arriving at the Slytherin table, full of new-joiners and boisterous upper years, theo quietly took his seat next to Draco. Everything about Hogwarts was beyond Theodore’s imagination, the laughter, the decorations, the colours, the people. Over the next few weeks, theo gradually emerged from his shell, gaining confidence the more he talked to others. Soon his group of friends expanded, he was like a magnet. Everyone wanted to talk to him, everyone wanted to be friends with him, it was a shock to say the least but what can one say- Theodore Nott to this day still has that charm. 1st and 2nd year flew by, full of mischief, trouble, and memories that would be unforgettable. Speaking of memories, theo will probably remember every single memory he’s ever had (possibly because the first 8 years of his life he had so few) but he will literally remember anything and everything. theo rarely went back home for the holidays, so when summer was finally over, he was more than happy to start Hogwarts for the third year. (this year EVERYONE got their glow up, and best you believe our man theodore did asw😻😻) theodore’s third year at hogwarts consisted of the friend group to dilute into five members- him, draco, mattheo, lorenzo and blaise. the five got up to no good- staying up late in each other’s dorms doing god knows what, sneaking out of hogwarts into hogsmeade and making their teacher’s lives miserable. not shockingly the group also managed to gain a whole lotta female attention, including theo, but unlike the others theo was quite unresponsive towards this and kept to himself and his friends, (lucky for us😝).

fourth year- things got messy. this year brought him and mattheo closer than before, initiating their very own brotherly bond. they would spend late nights up at the astronomy tower and come forward with their inner thoughts and feelings. theo feels a real sense of trust when talking to Mattheo about his mother, and likewise for Mattheo while talking about his father. if you think about it, Mattheo and theo are so similar yet so different, only more the reason for them to be getting along well. when i said things got messy, i was referring to the first party the gang was invited to. ravenclaws surprising quidditch victory lead to a huge rager thrown in their common room, with students from every house invited. now, why would they say no? that very night, the miraculous creation of fire whisky was discovered, they can all handle alcohol pretty well, but going to classes the next day was the real test.. yet this didn’t stop them from hosting regular shot nights in their dorms. midway through the year, draco’s interest had piqued in one of the greengrass sisters. (of course as we all expected) astoria was one of your dearest friends and seeing her so happy in a relationship with draco made your heart swell. so this bond caused the affixion of you, along with your two other best friends- pansy and daphne, with the group of boys. little did you know that this decision would result in you and a certain boy becoming one..

#a part two bcs you guys asked so kindly🙌🏼🥹 #kinda sad at the beginning and slightly rushed at the end😬 #i think I’m gonna do a part 3 but lmk if you guys’d want that!!

taglist- @iamgayforyourmom1510

[yaekiss]

#Mailroom Open!　─ Hello Qi! I hope I am able to get this letter in before the cutoff 😖 May I send a love letter to yan!Jing Yuan, and have him address a Foxian!reader w gn nicknames?

\\\______\\\\________\\\

To my dearest Scoundrel,

You are quite the terrible influence my dear general, are you aware of this? How am I supposed to resolve this trade agreement with our fellow Xianzhou flagships in a timely manner, when you have more or less conditioned me to take naps during most hours of the day?

Truly despicable of you really. And on top of that, your "parting gifts" you left on me are still very tender; very distracting from my work. Efficiency and diligence, I fear will be strangers to me during this trip.

Regardless, I hope you are doing well and are not causing to much trouble for the commission during my absence. (Please try to not stress Fu Xian too much, I don't need further distractions from her blowing up my phone because of your shenanigans.) Maybe if you are on your best behavior, I might even give you a reward. Perhaps even something of your choosing if you are especially well behaved~.

Before I sign off and leave you to return to my work, I have sealed a gift for you. Consider it...my own unique "parting gift" to you until I return to you. Which I know in our vast lifespans will be over before you know it my beloved.

-Sincerely, your sleepy vixen

(Enclosed in a small red and gold box, is a simple blue collar with golden accents and filigree with a note that says "wear it until I come back ;)" )

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Jing Yuan, no gendered terms for reader, Jing Yuan calls you "my tranquility", unhealthy obsessive relationship from Jing Yuan, lightly implied drugging, mentions of reader topping and edging Jing Yuan, quick mention of biting and blood, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: You have quite the roster of guards at the door of your hotel room huh? Looks like nothing's going to slip past them if they were chosen by Jing Yuan himself! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

As you return to your temporary quarters after sitting through a particularly arduous trade meeting, you’re alerted by your guards assigned to you (by none other than Jing Yuan) about a suspicious delivery left for you while you were away.

Inspecting the box, a laugh escapes you when you catch the ink paw prints of a lion stamped haphazardly on both sides of it. After explaining that this was a personal delivery from the Xianzhou Luofu’s Dozing General, it seemed to dissolve any remaining apprehension your guards had and they handed the box over to you. Thanking them for dutifully carrying out their work, you step into your room.

Your room is spacious, ridiculously so. Why would one person need such a massive room for themselves? It’s the kind that only a general could manage to procure. The open sliding window leads to a balcony that showcases the bustling lively environment of the streets below and a cool evening breeze fills the room. Settling down on the edge of the bed, you set the box in your lap.

Upon opening up your delivery, it seems that Jing Yuan had prepared a pair of gifts in return for you. The first of two is an intricate small glass spray bottle set within a satin-lined box. The small tag tied around it says, “Some of the fragrance that I often use. For you to spray on your pillows when you sleep. :3”

Spritzing a fine mist onto your wrist, the scent of your lover wafts from the area; not too strong such that it’s unpleasant for your keen sense of smell, nor too faint that it’s hard for you to pick up. The fragrance is soothing and familiar, a thoughtful gift that will no doubt improve the quality of your sleep, as evident from the yawn it draws out from you.

The second gift you retrieve from the box is a soft sleep mask in your favourite colour. Sliding it over your eyes, you find that the fabric is smooth against your skin and the mask manages to completely block out all light, fully blacking out everything. The elastic strap isn’t overly tight but secure enough that it ensures that the mask doesn’t slip off too easily. Perfect for tossing and turning. 

Finally, laid at the bottom of the box, is the reply from Jing Yuan, concealed in an elegant envelope. The quality is top-notch and flawless, and it’s sealed securely. Running your hand over the envelope, you feel the crest of the Cloud Knights embossed lightly on the surface. You break the seal and remove the letter contained within. 

His handwriting is steady and dignified, each and every brushstroke on the page graceful. At the end of his letter, is his own name seal, stamped in red ink. Jing Yuan’s reply reads:

“For my dreamlike haven,

My apologies, it seems that Mimi got its paws on the box while I was out of my office and left a couple of paw prints on the sides. Sigh, you should’ve seen how much ink I had to clean off the surfaces, truly troublesome. Perhaps it knew that the box was meant for you and wished to leave something for you as well, haha!

I have to admit, Mimi is not the only one missing you, my tranquility. I find myself looking over to my side to ask for your wise input on things, only to realise that you’re away. Fu Xuan laughs at me whenever I do this. :( 

It's just not the same to take afternoon naps without you by my side. Nothing is as comforting as your warmth in my arms, or for me to jokingly complain about the tips of your furry ears tickling my nose when we cuddle together. My slumbers are no longer restful when I can’t spend them with you, my tranquility.

The things I would do to have you next to me again. Are the marks and scratches I left on you still visible, my tranquility? Judging by how the ones you left on me are fading, I assume my parting gifts left on you are doing the same. Would you let me mark you up again, and won’t you extend the same generosity to me too? I yearn for your searing touch, my tranquility, for your fangs to pierce my skin and bring forth the vivid red beneath. Whenever I close my eyes, the only thing I can see is you, as if you linger in my every thought and dream.

Speaking of dreams, it seems that lately, my dreams have taken quite a raunchy turn. The starring role for all of them is obviously, you, my tranquility. You’d have me pliant and satisfying your every whim. In one, you had me bent over my office desk, fucking me hard as I rocked back against you. In another, you were edging me mercilessly, over and over again, until I could do nothing but beg helplessly for my release. That look you had in your eyes still sends a shiver down my spine. I’m hoping that soon, you can help turn these dreams of mine into reality.

Additionally, thank you for the collar, my tranquility. I’ve taken the liberty of adding a charming little bell at the front of it, I think you’d find it quite endearing. (And perhaps deserving of a reward? :3)

Do take care of yourself, or else I might just have to come and do it myself, haha. I’ll try to be on my best behaviour but no promises! I miss you dearly, my tranquility, come back to me soon.

Your rascal of a general,

- Jing Yuan -

P.S. Remember to use the fragrance on your pillows and the sleep mask!”

Rising from your seat on the bed, you pack everything back into the box before stepping into the shower to… cool off after reading Jing Yuan’s letter. In the bathroom, you find yourself relaxing as the water patters on your skin. Your ears flicker slightly whenever they pick up noise from beyond the locked door. A shout from the busy streets below, a soft sigh and the tinkle of a bell, the water splashing onto the floor around you.

Whilst clothing yourself, you lift your wrist to your nose and sigh when the scent of Jing Yuan has expectedly, (begrudgingly), been washed off. However, when you return to your bed, the scent of him still lingers, one that wasn’t here before. 

Your heightened foxian senses can just about make out where it’s concentrated the most, and it points towards your pillow. It’s saturated with the smell of him, to a disconcerting degree. Lifting it up, you’re greeted with the sight of the usual red ribbon he has tied around his hair.

The world falls silent around you.

He was in your room.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[pinkandpurple360]

Yknow what’s great about the Asmodean crystal? I think we have got it wrong. It’s not Stolas whose “love” is setting Blitzø free from the Full Moon Deal. It’s Fizzarolli’s love and gratitude.

I was saying to myself “wow fizz really holds the key to everything” the troubled past, complex about self worth, self hate, need to keep family around, and his soft side— and, yeah, canon:

He pirouettes him and Blitz stares at him with love in his eyes, then he shows us the key with the keychain on it. Established to be the thing he loves the most, horses. And this is what they used to play with, and used to live with, keeping horses as part of the act. The symbol freedom is frequently horses.

The golden colour behind the keychain is kinda interesting too.

Considering:

Blitz used his skill and his kind side to protect Fizz, keep him safe, apologise to him, and selflessly helped to reunite him with Asmodeus and says he’s happy for his relationship, despite the fact he himself is very much still in love with Fizz. Those two saved each other, not the royalty who the audience gave a lot of undue credit. Fizz without knowing anything behind why he needs the crystal, believes that through all his kind actions, and his remorse, that Blitz earned it, and gives him the chance to be free of the shackles Stolas put on him. Ozzie wouldn’t even give Blitz the crystal until Fizz gave him the ok. So its not just a gift from Asmodeus to Stolas to Blitzø it’s a gift from Fizz to Blitzø with the two royal demons as a go between. And B might never know that Fizz was at the heart of the decision.

Like im 100% serious when I say if Blitz hadn’t met Fizz that day, he might never be free of Stolas’ contract of transactional sex. A performance with no ending.

If Fizz or any of the events of Oops arent mentioned even once it would be a massive waste of this character work.

Viewing the timeline: fizz was there all those years ago at the circus when stolas saw him, blitz did a double take when he heard stolas mention the value of “my first ever friend”, he was there at Ozzies and was the catalyst for both the fallout and the strength blitz needed to stand up to stolas, he was the one who has given him the ability to finally leave the abusive relationship. Even if stolas won’t allow him, or forces him to stay. it still happened. It’s as if he’s been present or mentioned at every single key moment in that relationship. If you can call it that.

And you guys wonder why I love the blitzfizz ship! Lot of narrative importance

[theflashesoflove]

obstacle I

Larissa Weems x f!reader (nsfw) – series

part I :: part ll :: ao3

summary: Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

a/n: i always dreaded writing series, but this woman inspires me so much that i'm finally up for the challenge. i hope i will be consistent with my writing enough to bring this story where i want it to be. filthy, angsty and gentle. i think there will be two or three more chapters and it is also crossposted on ao3. btw i have a vague idea of what architects do so if you notice some factual mistakes let's pretend that in my silly imaginary world things work this way. the names of the chapters are lyrics from interpol's 'turn on the bright lights' album (it's brilliant, a huge recommend if you like male manipulator music like i do haha). proofread, and i hope it doesn't sound as broken as i think it does. (bracing myself) let's set this little bird free into the wild.

general warnings/tags: unhealthy online relationship, dom!larissa x sub!reader dynamics, sexting, nudes, masturbation + angst and all that stuff to come

chapter word count: 4k

Part I: you are linked to my innocence

Sitting on the balcony, you admired the sun slowly crawling up from its slumber, painting the sky with faint yellow and pink shades, warming up the cool earth. The view before you made you smile. Perhaps having trouble sleeping had its benefits – you could admire such a beautiful sunrise and feel at peace for at least the next hour, before the world would wake up and start swirling around you, overwhelming and demanding. 

Thinking of someone who was also so very demanding, you pulled out your phone and started recording the serene scenery. You tried to hold your phone still, though it was hard because of the chilly wind that made you shiver. Ending the video, you opened the messenger and sent it to a woman who made your heart sing just like the morning birds sang, greeting the sun.

You scrolled up your message history with her for a bit, smirking. What a sweet little relationship you had, one time you would send her a beautiful view out of your window, the next time – a picture of you touching yourself in the most sinful way.

Couldn’t sleep again? and What a lovely view, she replied an hour later. Not as lovely as you, though, she added after.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Her name was Lydia and she had just the right way with her words. She would text you, Send me a picture, and you would rush out of your meeting to the bathroom to send her a selfie. She would text you, What a beautiful shirt you are wearing, unbutton it for me, and you would spend a bit more time in the bathroom sending her picture after picture. 

You didn’t know what she looked like. She rarely sent you pictures in return, and you had only one 10 seconds long video of her touching herself. Her fingers were slender, her nails were painted a burgundy red colour, and she had those plush thighs that you wanted to squeeze with your hands. She was a woman of exquisite taste – taste in music, in foods, in lingerie.

You never asked her for more. It was entirely your choice to reveal your face on one of the first videos you sent her. She once told you, Don’t call me by my name on those videos, call me your mistress. You obliged. You always did. An impulse to ask the woman if she could reveal her face bubbled up inside your chest from time to time, but you pushed it away, never willing to make her uncomfortable. Perhaps there was something she didn’t like about herself, perhaps she wanted to be more mysterious and enticing, perhaps she just needed a bit more time – and it had been a year! Never being a selfish one, you suppressed your questions and played by her rules. 

She knew a lot about your life. You didn’t realise that you barely knew about hers. You knew that her work was stressful enough to make her speak to you in an especially dirty way in the night, urging you to send new videos for her to let off steam. You could only imagine her, spread on her bed to your sinful sound and pleas. You would tell her, i wish i could see how pleased my mistress is right now, nudging her to send you a picture in return. The woman would just answer, Don’t doubt it, I am very pleased with my darling girl, thank you and end the conversation until the next morning. You knew that she played piano and was popular in high school, though a bit overshadowed by her best friend at the time. You knew that she liked long walks in nature, ice skating and that her favourite season was autumn. She never pressed you to share any details about your life, but you did it nonetheless. 

It all started rather accidentally, and you told her millions of times how glad you were that she found you. There was an old record player that you wanted to sell online, and you even gave out a Fleetwood Mac vinyl in addition to it for free. The woman contacted you, anonymous at that time, though she contacted you too late, and the record player was already sold. It didn’t stop the two of you from continuing the conversation, talking about music and antique pieces of furniture she adored. After that, everything escalated quickly – topics changing topics and bringing you into dynamics you didn’t know you would enjoy this much. She teased you a lot, and at first you acted shy and hesitant, bending under her dominance and unravelling your own fantasies over time. She wrapped you around her finger, and on one particular evening you sent her your first video. The woman made it clear that she was hopeful to receive more of those in the future. 

Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. If you told any of your friends about Lydia, they would tell you that you went nuts. They would tell you to stop texting her immediately and delete the chat to destroy the blackmail material that you’d shared with a stranger. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

Back in the day, you suggested moving the conversation from reselling website direct messages to a more convenient messenger, one that the woman hadn’t heard of before. It took her two days to create an account for contacting you there. Her profile picture was a bush of red flowers, her personal information included just a lyric of a song she liked, and all of it was only for your eyes to see. Not much, but her empty profile on an app which she signed in just for you never aroused any suspicions. Well, sometimes it did, but then she would ask you how your day went and the sweetness of the texts the two of you shared washed your worries away. 

In fact, it wasn’t all about sexting. You could see that she was genuinely interested and caring, and you didn’t send her pictures and videos every day, after all. Maybe… three times a week? Five if she was desperate. She woke up earlier than you if you managed to fall asleep the night before and always brightened your day from its beginning with a sweet ‘Good morning, darling’ message. She always wished you a good night and checked in throughout the day, answering your texts and moving the conversation forward. Sometimes she would even send you flowers, and a delivery man would call you and ask for the address. The man would appear on your porch with a delicate bouquet later, a card attached to the wrapping would say, ‘To my favourite girl – L’. You could only giggle and smile to yourself for the rest of the day. No matter how hard you tried to get her number to send something in return, the woman would always brush you off. You can send me a picture in return, she would text you. That was exactly what you would do next. 

You’d always start with pictures. On days when you felt especially good about yourself, you didn’t even wait for her to ask. Undressing, you would send her several pictures, losing yet another piece of closing on every photo. Sometimes it would take her too long to reply, and you would record a video for her in advance. There wasn’t any surface in your house that wasn’t caught on camera while you would thrust your fingers inside, making it all pretty and appealing to look at. The sounds you made were an absolute turn on for her, and you always ensured that you put on a good show. It wasn’t even necessary to try hard, you would just recall all the dirty messages she sent you over the course of your relationship, you would imagine how it would feel to be held by her, how those long fingers would pound into you, how her lips would tease your flushed skin. You had a good imagination, and it was enough. The tiniest bits of her that were available to you – all of it was enough, that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. A hopeless romantic you were, blindly expecting that one day she would surprise you and reveal herself, and tell you how much she wanted to meet you in person. Still, it never came. That day never came, and you tried not to overthink it. You were supposed to be grateful for what you already had, after all.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

I have a very important meeting today and I just know that it won’t go easy on me. Can you please bend over your desk for me this evening, dearest? Lydia texted you a few hours later after receiving the video. 

of course, mistress, you answered playfully. your boss doesn’t give you a break, huh? ;)

Thank you, darling girl, I’ll be waiting, she replied, ignoring the message about her boss. 

You made sure to text her during your lunch break, checking if she didn’t forget to eat in between her piles of work. She told you that she had a snack and it was very nice of you to bother. A couple of hours later she asked how were you feeling since you didn’t get any sleep last night. You told her that you were running on energy drinks and green tea and she jokingly scolded you for the energy drinks part. It made you bite your lower lip, how caring she was for you in return.

The desk in your office was never neat. Scattered papers, your laptop always on charge, heated up with architect software. You hunched over the plan with a pencil in your hand, making sure that the plumbing system of the building made sense at all. Working in a reconstruction and restoration company, you never really got a chance to do the part you studied for in the first place. Always checking other architects’ plans and fixing their mistakes for them, not having the opportunity to do something of your own. Your days were filled with somewhat ridiculous tasks yet even those managed to make you feel the struggle of workload.

The surface of your desk shuddered when your phone buzzed with a reminder about forthcoming meeting, and you straightened, feeling a familiar ache in your lower back. You threw on a jacket, took your phone and notebook and left your office, politely smiling at coworkers passing by. 

The meeting went as smoothly as always – at least you enjoyed the working atmosphere of the company. Your boss talked about the updates in the company policy and proceeded to inform the staff about upcoming projects. He announced that the Principal of Nevermore school contacted them for the reconstruction work, and your coworkers didn’t even try to hide their opinions on outcasts and how infamous the school was, especially after the causality that happened a few months ago. Not paying attention to their grumbling, you thought it would be a great opportunity to finally show your skills, and your boss thought so too.

“Y/N, you will take over this project. I’m passing you the papers with details, I feel like the time to shine has come!” he said, approaching your seat with a folder in his hands. Some of your coworkers sighed in relief, glad that they wouldn’t be involved with Nevermore. It made you wince – you never thought badly of outcasts like the majority of others did, the idea of being hostile towards someone just because they were different made you nauseous like it would do to any decent person. “The Principal insists on cooperation, and I have to warn you – you will probably have to visit the site more times than would be necessary for a usual project. I hope it won’t be a problem,” he said with a light smirk.

You smiled and bit your cheek, anticipation tingling on your fingertips. “No, it won’t be a problem. Thank you,” you uttered, taking the folder. “When am I supposed to start?” 

“Next week. We arranged a meeting with Principal Weems, she said it was very important for the school, and I quote, ‘to thoroughly negotiate the reconstruction process’.” 

The school was enormous, but the work was connected to a relatively small part of it, a tower that was destroyed recently. You spent the rest of your evening studying the documents – an old plan of the school that included the tower. It was impressive how old this building was. Besides, you would be taking part in preserving and reconstructing the historic site, the whole prospect of reconstructing a part of Nevermore ensemble sounded like a dream coming true. The fact of such a project being granted to you to work on would be unbelievable if deep down you didn’t know the reason for it. It seemed that no one from your company wanted to work with Nevermore, but the school was about to pay generously, so they had to find someone to 'deal with the outcasts'. How foolish your coworkers were for declining such an opportunity, you thought, smiling to yourself.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Back home, you didn’t bother to change into your indoor clothes, knowing full well that you would need to be completely naked soon anyway. Having had a quick meal and relaxed on the couch, closing your eyes for a little too long than you planned, you finally entered your bedroom and started setting a scene. Sometimes the lengths you went to make a perfect video for Lydia made you embarrassed, but how could you do it any other way? The woman’s attention was worth all of your efforts. You cleaned up your desk, returning previously forgotten mugs to the kitchen, shoving papers into the desk drawer and moving the pile of laundry laying on the floor out of frame. The curtains had to be closed for the last sun rays entering your bedroom not messing with the lighting on camera, the cosy shine of a garland and the dim light of a bedside lamp would be enough to illuminate your form in the most lovely way. You checked your reflection in the mirror and wiped away a few particles of mascara from under your eyes. For a second you tensed, your insecurity taking over. Would Lydia like you as much if she saw you in person? Wouldn’t she be disappointed that a flawless image you tried to create for her wasn’t as flawless in real life? Perhaps that was why she didn’t want to meet up in the first place? Did she already know that wasting the time of her busy schedule would completely disenchant her perception of you? You took a deep breath and shook your head, backing off from the mirror. It was alright. She liked you. Still you desperately wanted to be perfect for her. 

The next thing you did was distract yourself with having fun and a bit of a struggle with setting up a phone stand out of books. After you were sure that your phone wouldn’t slide down halfway through the recording, you set a 10 seconds timer and started slowly unbuttoning your shirt to catch the process on camera. The photo turned out just the way you wanted from the first try, revealing the right amount of skin and a glimpse of your lingerie. It didn’t even matter in the end, but you were always attentive to details. Completely taking off your shirt, you grabbed your phone and took the second picture – a close up of your lacy bra, nipples visible through the fabric, collarbones calling to be showered with your mistress’ kisses. The sound of timer counting down rang across your bedroom once again, you unhooked your bra to send it down onto the floor and stepped back, already topless, unzipping your pants and craning your neck to the side with a soft smile on your lips. Oh, how much you loved spoiling Lydia even if sometimes it stressed you out to the point of worrying about your imperfections. Your pants made their way onto the floor as well, out of the frame, of course, and as the next timer started counting down, you rushed to your desk to bend over it prettily, exposing your cheeks for the last photo. Then, you returned to your phone and sent pictures to Lydia, smiling to yourself at the thought of her ending her tedious day of work and seeing your message.  

It took you a fair amount of time to warm yourself up for the video by bringing yourself to the edge with a vibrator, uncomfortably sprawled in your chair and growing hotter with every second. You barely managed to stop yourself from climaxing, removing the vibrator from your clit and standing up on wobbly legs to continue your filming session. The phone was settled into its makeshift stand again, the sun finally settled, not peeking through the curtains anymore, which made the scene look especially intimate in the dimmed lights, and you were ready to absolutely ruin yourself for Lydia. After pressing the record button, you bent over your desk once again, and massaged your cheeks, squeezing and pulling to reveal your glistening sex. Having satisfied your need to tease the woman a little more, you spread your legs wider and took a toy that rested on the desk the whole time.

Teasing your wet entrance with the toy, you pleaded into the silence of your room, “Oh, please, fuck me… fuck me, mistress, please…”

By the time you finished, you were worn out – the position was rather uncomfortable, especially when you had to work with your hand from behind. You pressed the side of your face against the surface and sighed happily, “Thank you, mistress, you are so good to me.” There was a deep red mark of the edge of the desk on your knee, the wood was digging into your skin almost the whole time you were filming after you decided to move your leg higher for better access and view. The awkward scene of you grunting as you lifted yourself from the desk and padded over to your bed to stop the recording was cropped out later. 

An hour passed by, and Lydia finally answered your messages, saying that she was done with the meeting and work for the day, ready to witness you coming undone for her. 

You look absolutely ravishing, dear. Let me see how you used that toy on your pretty pussy?

are you already in bed? You asked, trying to withhold the sweet video a little longer.

No, darling. I’m taking a bath right now, she answered, arousing the urge in you to ask her if she could give you at least a glimpse of her body basking in the warm water. You didn’t ask her. 

I need you, came a text seconds later, and you couldn’t resist her anymore. 

The video went on for about 11 minutes, you didn’t know if you should have made it shorter or longer for her liking. You wondered how long it would take her, you wondered what she would use to pleasure herself and how it would feel to be with her in that moment, spreading shower gel all over her breasts and teasing her with your thigh pressed against her core. You wondered how it would feel to just settle in her lap, wrap your hands around her shoulders and hide your face in her neck, revelling in her presence.

The waiting after sending her those kinds of videos was the most tortuous one, you didn’t yet know if she liked the video or not, you didn’t know if it met her expectations, you didn’t know if it even made her wet and eager to pleasure herself. Sometimes you were afraid that she wouldn’t even bother to watch it or to reply to you ever again. Fifteen minutes later, you got a response – 1 attachment. Your heart somersaulted against your ribcage, and you hesitated for a moment before tapping on the notification, prolonging the excitement of not knowing what she sent you.

Those beautiful thighs. Oh, how much you thought about them wrapping around your head, how many times you rewatched the only video she sent you, remembering the patterns of stretch marks along her skin. She looked especially soft and rosy, her wet pubic hair neatly covered her sex, and the foam melted around her body, glistening on camera. The water was steamy and her hand rested on the rim of the bathtub – you could only assume that she was completely spent. 

i would eat you out until those gorgeous legs are shaking, you texted after a while of staring, unable to think straight.

Not before I would be done edging you for hours, she cheekily answered. And before you could think of a suitable response in the same dirty fashion, she sent her next message, Thank you, dearest. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.

A smile spread across your features, so wide it almost started to hurt. You plumped down on the bed and nuzzled your nose into the pillow, vainly seeking her scent that was never there in the first place. Contented that the woman felt about you this way, you closed your eyes and tried to imagine her. Imagine, imagine, imagine – it was the only thing you could do. In that moment, you hopelessly wanted to press yourself into her, to cling to her body and dissolve in her warmth. How much you yearned for her to give you real proximity, to caress your sides as she would bury her face in your hair and fall asleep next to you, breathing peacefully. Or she would let you lie down on her chest and listen to her calming heartbeat, holding your hand and circling your skin with her thumb. 

A couple of red heart emojis were sent Lydia’s way and you locked your phone, turned on your back and looked at the ceiling. Fulfilled and deprived at the same time.

by the way, i was given a new project today! You texted Lydia five minutes later, remembering that you forgot to share the exciting news. i’m so happy, they finally gave me the big girl stuff to do haha

That’s amazing, dear. I’m very proud of you, Lydia answered, making you blush. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

The next Monday you were on your way to Nevermore – it felt very exciting to leave the office for once to see the site of reconstruction. To your surprise, it wasn’t that long of a ride, you expected the school to be more distant from Jericho than it was. Driving along the road that was framed by thick forest made you want to pull over for a second to take a picture of towering trees, branches tranquilly swinging in the wind, the sun peaking through the leaves. However it would be a bad idea, unless you wanted to be late for the meeting more than you already were.

The building of Nevermore astonished you from the first glance. A dark fantasy, elaborate decorations and old-fashioned high ceilings. You arrived at the brink of evening – Principal Weems didn’t have time for the meeting until 5 p.m. – and the golden hour made the school look even more otherworldly. You didn’t need a tour since you had an insight on what the building was like inside, and the location of classrooms and halls didn’t really change over decades. Approaching the Principal’s office, you adjusted the collar of your shirt and fixed your hair – this was serious, you had to make a good impression on the client. 

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

a/n: oh, larissa... honey, you've got a big storm coming

[prettieinpink]

do you have a diet guideline and exercise routine? i'm having trouble figuring out what exactly i should be eating aside from people's vague "fiber and vegetables or whatever". And finding an exercise routine that works and i can actually make myself stick with and keep myself motivated with. Any tips/advice? thanks!

CREATING DIET & EXERCISE GUIDELINES

CREATING YOUR DIET

Determine how many calories you need daily. Your daily caloric intake depends on your age, sex, weight, height, and activity level. Some online calculators can help you with like this. However, if you’re calculating it, make sure to consider your activity levels.

Then, determine how much of what nutrients you need. If you’re lacking in one, you may want to increase the intake of that nutrient. Or, if you think you eat too much of it, you may decrease this. 

The best way to find out what nutrients you need is by a calculator. However, the best form of action is to ask your GP what they advise you. Here are the formulas;

Calculate your protein intake 10-30% of total calories (for adults)

Amount of fats - 20-35% of total calories (for adults)

Consumption of carbohydrates 45-65% of total calories

Recommended water intake 1 kcal = 1 mL

Number of grams of fibre Fiber = (kcal/1000) × 14

Limit processed foods, sodium, sugars and saturated fats as much as you can. While it is okay to eat them in moderation, they shouldn’t be a part of your daily diet.

To create healthy meals that are suited to you, consider your daily lifestyle and what times you feel hungry the most. While I cannot speak for your needs, this is typically what your meals should look like.

BREAKFAST - Breakfast should not be anything processed or fatty. It is the meal you break your 8-hour fast with, and it is the energy you use for the rest of the day. 

The most ideal breakfast is one that is protein-rich, as it can help you be more productive throughout the day. 

LUNCH - A lean, light but colourful meal is best suited for lunch. This shouldn’t be too filling, but enough so it can sustain your hunger until dinner. 

Lunch should be a meal that has lots of veggies or fruits that can energise you as well. 

DINNER - I don’t want to sound forceful, but dinner should be your healthiest meal. This is the energy that your body uses to recover and heal from the day you’ve just had. 

It should be balanced with complex carbs, vegetables and proteins. However, for dinner, it is advised that you either eat early or eat small. 

SNACKS - Light snacks that are filling. Avoid snacks in which you mindlessly eat them, those are the type of snacks which are most likely not good for you and you’ll end up overeating. Fruits are the best choice here. 

This is a diagram I use often to measure how much food I need to eat without weighing them or counting calories. To be precise;

Vegetables or/and fruit should be ½ of your plate

Proteins should be ¼ of your plate

Grains/Carbs should be ¼ of your plate. 

Adjust this to your liking, but I thought it would help you. 

CREATING YOUR EXERCISE GUIDELINES

This is a process that does not happen overnight, even if you want to start running kilometres a day if you’re living a sedentary life currently, that is not possible. 

Start by finding small intervals in your day to exercise, experimenting around and documenting how each one makes you feel. For now, just try to figure out what you like and form the consistency, 

Then, once you get the hang of exercising regularly, you get to make your own rules. For example, your rest days, how many minutes or hours, what you do that day etc. 

Exercise is just another way to fuel your body, and you only know your body and what feels good for it. So I cannot provide any further advice than this. Make sure to start slowly though. 

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part VI

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :)

And a huge thank you to everyone reading!

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole

Part VII >>

Elain held tightly to Lucien’s arm, her fingers linked with his, her other hand clutching at his wrist. An anchor, his heartbeat a comfort as they were led down the winding halls of the ancient Forest House. 

Lucien looked entirely unbothered, hardly troubled now that he was no longer in the presence of his family. Elain asked herself how, considering she very much felt as though she had woken from a nightmare. Her thoughts were foggy, her knees shaking in relief with every one of her steps. Elain wanted to sob. 

Lucien’s thumb traced the curve of her knuckle and Elain breathed in deeply to calm her nerves. 

It was almost humiliating, being paraded past the Autumn guards stationed at every corner as she clung to Lucien. She had to remind herself that it was expected of mated couples to behave so attached, that she was not amongst human nobles that would judge her for any open affection that was displayed. 

Elain briefly wondered what Cora had done in her absence, and whether the other woman had been made aware of the change in their plans. Elain’s thoughts turned quickly, though, to what her sisters would say. Elain was sure that Nesta, more than Feyre, would be furious. 

Elain assumed she would have the Inner Circle’s complete support, but she could only guess at their displeasure with how the night had unfolded. 

Elain had told a High Lord that she was marrying his son, and she was only just beginning to realise the weight of such a promise. Elain felt her stomach flip, panic starting to creep along her spine. 

Just when Elain’s anxiety started to take root, Lucien’s hand gripped hers more tightly. Elain felt as he tried to reassure her through the bond, and her annoyance was enough to redirect her thoughts. 

The Forest House was strange and unlike any place she had ever been to. The rough stone walls were a warm grey, closer to the colour of sheep’s wool than to the cool toned rock she had become used to in Night. 

Elain was surprised to see all the wooden furniture considering all the torches, flames dancing and sparks falling but never setting anything alight. She walked by a couple elegant fireplaces set into the walls, but she saw no chimneys, no soot or ashes. 

Like the roots of an ancient tree, hallways connected and split off into different directions, an unnavigable maze. Elain wondered how anyone was able to find their way around. 

One of the guards shoved Lucien towards a flight of stone steps, urging him to turn. Elain frowned when she felt him tense, thinking perhaps he had been offended by the gesture. It was only as a voice rang out beside them that Elain guessed Lucien had scented someone’s presence. 

“Your services are no longer needed,” the words were rough, a demand. “I can take the prince and his lady to their shared suite from here.” 

Much to Elain’s surprise, the guards obeyed. In the time it took for them to leave, Elain had turned her attention to the new arrival.  

The man was handsome, Elain could admit. His short hair a more copper shade of red, his eyes a bright hazel. He was pale, like most of the people she had seen in Autumn, and he looked battle-worn. A slashing scar cut across his throat, just visible above the fabric of his jacket. 

Even if Elain had not just been in a room with Beron Vanserra, she would have still been able to see the resemblance between the High Lord and the man who so obviously was another one of his sons. She took a step beck, knocking into Lucien’s side. 

The man raised a brow, but other than a passing glance, he paid her no mind. His focus was on Lucien, the torches on the wall flared. Elain wondered if that always happened, if flames simply responded to those in Autumn, a reflection of their emotions.

“Where’s Eris?” He snapped, like he had no patience for either her or Lucien. 

Her mate’s shoulders were stiff. “Is the loyal dog looking for its master?” Lucien’s drawl was taunting, as though he was expecting a reaction from his brother. His words were obviously meant to offend.

Elain could feel Lucien’s shock flooding the bond between them when his brother merely shook his head. 

“You always did cause so much trouble, Lucien,” he frowned, looking very much like Eris. With a sigh, he angled his chin to the flight of stairs in front of them. “Follow me.” 

Not like they had a choice, Elain thought. She could feel as Lucien turned to look at her, to check in, but she stared at his brother as he led them to a pair of thick oak doors. His attempt to comfort her was appreciated, but Elain truly thought she could not look at him without her anxiety once more taking hold. With a wave of his brother’s beringed hand, the doors opened to reveal a cosy space. 

The fireplace was already lit, comfortable carpets covered the stone floor, and by the arched window on the room’s other side was a large bed, fit for two. Elain blushed, forgetting for a moment that Lucien and her were to be married, of course their shared suite would have only one bed. 

Elain watched as Lucien’s brother waved his hand once again, this time lighting the candles littered on some of the wooden tables and nightstands. “I hope the rooms have been set to your liking. Should you need anything, let one of the guards know.”

Elain spoke for the first time since having left the throne room, “My lady’s maid was with me, I was wondering…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say next. 

“I’ll let Eris know,” the Autumn prince offered. “I’m sure he’s thought of everything.” There was no bitterness to his words, only an acknowledgement of his eldest brother’s very thorough planning.

Elain dipped her head in thanks, but he had already begun to leave. Elain looked to Lucien as he watched his brother warily, and he hardly seemed surprised when the other man paused at the room’s threshold. 

“Congratulations to the both of you on your engagement,” he said flippantly, over his shoulder. Elain could hear a flicker of doubt in his tone, perhaps a suggestion that he was not entirely convinced by their act. She wondered if Eris had mentioned it to him, if they were close enough to have shared such information. 

Elain noticed the irritation that flashed in Lucien’s eye, how the other one whirred. “Thank you, Callum.” 

It was clear to Elain that there was bad blood between the brothers, and while she was curious, Elain also knew that it would probably be very rude to ask Lucien about it. She watched as Callum left, glad that she no longer needed to play the role she had given herself.  

The doors slammed shut behind the Autumn prince, and Elain promptly let go of Lucien’s hand. She already missed the feeling, but to reach for him would be like an admission of how she so often longed for his touch when he was near. She put distance between them, almost tripping on the edge of the carpet in her rush. 

“Gods,” she mumbled, running her fingers through her curls. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Lucien’s scent, apples and summer mornings, lingered in the air. 

What have I done? 

Elain decided that she was a fool for coming to Autumn. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into, had been so desperate to save Lucien’s life that she had doomed them both. 

When Elain opened her eyes, she saw Lucien flexing his fingers, like the memory of her hand in his was enough to unsettle him. He had dark bruises along his jaw, clenched in what she thought was concern. There were blood stains, brown and aged, along the collar of his white shirt. A smear of dirt was on his temple and Elain could tell he had been treated poorly until she had come. 

Lucien was still the loveliest man Elain had ever seen, and she hated herself for believing it.  

“How in the hell did Feyre convince you to come for me?” Lucien asked, voice tired, like his own thoughts were weighing him down. 

Elain furrowed her brow, frowning at him. “Feyre?” She echoed, incredulous. 

At her question Lucien seemed to anger, only for a moment, before he spoke once more. “Rhysand, then, made you do this?” 

“No one made me do anything,” Elain hissed, keeping her voice down, remembering how careful Eris was with his words even when they had been alone. “I came for you because I chose to.” She was frustrated, angry that everyone assumed she could not make decisions for herself. It was with great effort that she kept her hands at her sides, that she did not begin pointing at Lucien with an accusing finger. 

“Why would you do such a thing?” Confusion and disbelief lingering in his words. 

“Because I felt like it,” she snapped, feeling very much like a child. Elain did not share with him that after so much death, so much change in the last few years, she did not think she could bear more. “And you should be thanking me, not questioning my motives.” 

Elain watched as he bent ever so slightly at the waist, the smallest of bows. He did not take his eyes off her as he said, “You have my thanks, Elain.” 

At the sound of her name falling from Lucien’s lips, Elain took a step towards him, the movement almost involuntary. “You shouldn’t call me that,” the impropriety of it all had Elain blushing, she attempted to tell herself that was why she could feel her heartbeat quicken. “You don’t have the right—”

“I think I do,” Lucien said with a shrug, “considering we’re about to be married.” 

It looked like he wanted to say more, but Elain interrupted. “It means nothing,” she was shocked at how snarled the last word was. “Nothing has changed between us,” her words held a finality to them.

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, “Not for one moment did I believe otherwise.” He sounded exhausted, Elain noticed. 

Briefly, Elain felt guilty for being upset with him.

Lucien shook his head, and as he spoke he did not look at her. “You shouldn’t have come to Autumn.” Elain could not say it with certainty, but she could have sworn fear leaked slowly down their shared bond. 

“Next time I’ll let you be killed,” Elain waved her hand dismissively. “What’s done is done, I can hardly tell your father I’ve changed my mind.” 

“I think we’re well past that,” Lucien confirmed. The silence between them was awkward, and Elain wished they had separate rooms, despite knowing it was for the best that they were together.

She could feel Lucien’s gaze on her, but Elain was looking at the comfortable armchair by the fireplace. She cleared her throat, “You take the bed.” 

Lucien did not argue with her, a testament to how utterly drained he must have been, Elain concluded. 

“Thank you, Elain,” he said softly, sincerely.

Elain was left with the impression that Lucien was thanking her for more than just the bed.

[wri0thesley]

shakes my little can of ideas. Diluc who just reeeeally wants you, really needs you, and has such intense desire for you, that when he finally snaps and just holds you down and needs to feel every inch of you even though you're trying to push him off, beg him to stop please... but he just keeps muttering 'i'm sorry, i'm sorry, you're just too pretty i need you, i need you' Ugh. Delicious. Brought to you by a very weird dream of mine.

apologies - yandere diluc x reader (2.7k)

cw: NON-CON. very very explicitly non-con, this is kind of gross. afab reader with no pronouns or gendered terms used, although there are some vague allusions to courtship and reader wears a shift to sleep in. diluc is yandere and delusional and lovesick and apologises and minimises his actions a lot.

You have always considered Diluc Ragnvindr a gentleman. 

He has always been polite to you; courteous, his face serious, his tone perfectly proper. Opening doors for you and offering you a free (non-alcoholic, naturally, as he could not be seen co-ercing anybody) drink at his tavern; when you had found yourself stranded in a sudden lightning storm close to Dawn Winery, you had not thought for one moment there would be any danger in knocking on the door of the manor and asking if you may wait it out.

“Of course you can,” Diluc had said, the very corners of his mouth turning up, his tone warm. “Stay the night, please - I couldn’t forgive myself if something were to happen to you traversing these roads, they’ll be waterlogged for days.”

As you had no retinue with you and no provisions for anything longer than a meandering walk (having found yourself lulled into a false sense of security by the glorious weather when you had set out from Springvale), you had been only too happy to take up the offer. It had been a civil, polite affair - Diluc and you warming yourselves by the fire, polite questions about the wellbeing of your family, a compliment on the way the colour of your clothing today complimented your hair and your eye--

Of course, you know Diluc is not often prone to compliments - and perhaps you had preened a little at the sweet words from him, had imagined what it would be like to be the betrothed and adored of the most eligible bachelor in Mondstadt.

But that was all it had been.

Imagination. 

The heavy form on top of you now is most certainly not your imagination.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Diluc breathes against your ear, his weight pinning you down into feather-soft mattress, heat radiating from him. “You were just so close, I couldn’t help myself--”

You had been shown to a luxurious guest room just down the hall from the quarters that Diluc himself commandeered as his own; a pretty maid showing you the adjoining bathroom, bobbing you a curtsey and telling you that you were an esteemed guest and to please feel free to use anything that you found in the room or to tug at the bell pull if you needed anything. She had even procured for you a thin white cotton shift from the maid’s clean laundry that just about fitted you, though you couldn’t help but feel a little exposed in it - you had thanked her effusively, knowing Diluc certainly did not need to go to all of this trouble for you.

You wonder what the maid would do, now, if you somehow shoved the master of the house off of you and managed to pull the bell to alert them to the need for assistance. 

You couldn’t sleep because the downy soft pillows beneath your head were too soft, the scent of expensive cedar wood and apples that pervade the winery too unfamiliar, the cotton against your bare thighs different to your own ordinary night things - but Diluc, you realise, thinks you have been waiting for him.

You make a token attempt to struggle underneath his weight, your voice coming out a soft and reedy thing;

“M-Master Diluc, I’m flattered, but--”

A hot mouth finds your jawline; trails kisses from your ear to your throat. Fingers tug at the blanket covering you.

“You’re so pretty,” Diluc says, breathless. “I’m sorry, I can’t help myself--”

You squeak aloud as a big, bare hand lands on your thigh and slides up - searing heat from Diluc’s scarred, calloused palm leaving what you’re sure must be a visible trail. You struggle underneath him, fear suddenly feeling sharp and sour in your throat. 

“D-don’t!” You practically squeak it out, feeling tears rise to your eyes as you realise fully how hopeless the situation is - as the feel of Diluc’s fingers parting your legs reminds you of how much stronger he is than you, how much broader, how much more important he is in the grand scheme of all things.

“I’ve wanted you for months,” he says. “Y-you’ve driven me mad, I need you--”

You would never have guessed. You try and think back to all of the other times that you’ve seen Diluc since then; try to remember if he had seemed particularly out of sorts - but your mind comes up blank. He has never seemed particularly sweet on you compared to anyone else.

(You don’t know, of course, of the nights he’s spent with a fist curled around his cock and his teeth digging into his pillow to the thought of how soft you would be beneath him, how lovely you would look all helpless and bare for him). 

“D-Diluc,” you plead. “Please! W-we can court, I promise - we can g-go to concerts, and on walks, just please d-don’t--”

You cry out again as Diluc grunts against your ear, as you feel him shift and feel the unmistakable heavy heat of something between his legs digging into your bare thigh. He’s pulling up your shift, now - the blankets pulled down, the air cloyingly warm as it hits your newly freed skin.

(Does all air that swirls about Diluc turn warm? Or is he simply particularly emotional right now? You do not like either thought).

“You’re so pretty,” he repeats. “I can’t wait.”

You make another token attempt to struggle away beneath him - your hips wriggling, your mouth opening to cry out once more, your shoulders shaking from side to side as tears finally do spill down your cheeks. 

Diluc stops you from screaming for help with a forceful kiss.

“Don’t,” he says against your lips, so vulnerably tender it makes you feel sick. “I love you--”

You want to snap at him. You want to tell him this is not love - if it were, you wouldn’t be struggling, wouldn’t be fighting, wouldn’t be crying with your heart beating like a wounded animal - but there is nothing you can say as he muffles your protests with his mouth, as his teeth tug at your bottom lip and his tongue slips into your mouth like a thief in the night and drinks you in. 

Your hands are terribly ineffectual as you push at his broad shoulders. There is nothing you can do but lay beneath him and take it, even as one of his hands slides up your bare stomach and suddenly he is cupping your breast, fingers sliding over your nipple.

“So pretty,” he repeats, breaking the kiss, looking down at you with those crimson wine-dark eyes. “Don’t cry--”

“Stop it,” you tell him, brokenly, but it does not. Instead, his brows simply draw in.

“I need you,” he repeats, as if this makes it okay. And then, horrifyingly; “Please, let me . . . I’m sorry--”

Your throat is too dry to try screaming again. You have heard tell, before, that when someone is truly terrified they simply lose the ability to create sound - they try to scream, but no sound comes out. That is almost how it feels for you. You are frozen as he dips his head down, as he lathes his hot tongue over your nipples until they are hard and peaking under his ministrations. You want to scream - but nothing comes out except shallow gasps of breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, even as your shift has been pushed to your collarbones and your entire body is free to be drunk in by his adoring, sickeningly loving gaze. “Archons, you’re beautiful.”

You grow terribly used to his apologies.

Your throat lets you emit a high-pitched whimper as he parts your thighs - as one of those hot, calloused hands slips between them, to tease at the seam between your legs.

“Please,” Diluc is saying. “I’m sorry, please, you’re so pretty, I need to feel you,” he is saying, as one of his fingers slips between the lips of your sex to tease at your clit. “I don’t want to hurt you--”

Your hips squirm beneath him, trying to escape from the onslaught of his fingers over your pleasure point, but it is to no avail when his figure is so oppressively heavy on top of yours and your legs are spread apart with such strength. You suck in a pained breath as one of his fingers slips inside of you, coaxing wetness from you quite against your will.

Diluc kisses your cheeks where the tears have wetted them; murmurs more apologies in between heavy breaths that you know are of arousal. His thumb rubs over your clit instead, as his lone finger pumps in and out, trying to make sure you’re wet enough to take him.

That feeling - that calloused thumb, the rhythm of his heavy breathing and the soft whispers of how beautiful you are - they all leave you feeling confused underneath him as a hundred thoughts and feelings and sensations all swirl around in your head. 

(At least it is not his mouth), you think, as his thumb continues to tease pleasurable sparks from your clit. You do not know if you could handle looking down and seeing those crimson locks of hair between your thighs, deal with the thought of his tongue traversing the same plane that his fingers are.

“You feel so good,” Diluc mumbles, kissing across your neck, your collarbone, messy. “You’re so lovely . . . mine . . . you’re mine--”

Fingers curled just so, thumb rubbing at just the right angle with just the right pressure - and your orgasm sneaks up on you like a bandit ambush, as your hips thrust in surprise and you let out a whimper of pleasure-confusion, not understanding how this could be happening and still feel so good.

“That’s right,” Diluc breathes. “So good, so pretty . . . Ugh, I’m sorry, can’t hold it in any longer--”

He shifts whilst his fingers are still moving jerkily inside of you, little shivers of your retreating orgasm making you feel light-headed and confused. Something nudges between your thighs, slick and thick and hard.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, one more time, “I can’t help myself,” - and then, Diluc Ragnvindr is gently forcing his cock inside of your wet, yielding body.

He moves inside of you slowly, letting you get used to the stretch of him, caging you beneath him with strong arms either side of your head. The gaze that he keeps on you, though, never fades from anything other than adoring. He’s utterly besotted, you realise. He’s lovesick for you, and there’s nothing you can do right now but take the thrust of his cock as he slowly pumps it in and out.

“So beautiful,” he’s saying. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself--”

The planes of his abdomen rub against your already-swollen and sore clit.

. . . Would it be so bad? You’ve come for him once; and he is handsome and strong and he keeps telling you that he loves you . . . if there is no escape, why should you not simply melt into it? Surely nobody would think ill of you for giving in, when the stretch of his cock is making your thighs twitch and warmth sparkle in your stomach.

Diluc kisses you again, mumbles about how much he needs you - and instead of staying slack-mouthed beneath him, you hesitantly mouth back at his lips. Diluc groans, his eyelashes fluttering in pleasure.

His hips speed up. He’s still not rough with you - you think, from the uncoordinated slap of his hips and the mumbles and the dusting of flushed red on his cheeks that he has little experience - but he certainly becomes more enthusiastic.

“I knew you’d understand,” he slurs, pulling back before he peppers your cheeks and nose with more of them. “I knew-- we were meant to be together, darling, angel, pretty thing--”

A whimper-moan escapes your mouth unbidden and Diluc groans like he has just heard the music that angels play in Celestia. You force yourself to stop thinking of the series of events that lead you here. You force yourself to forget that he is fucking you against your will, that you protested him pushing his cock inside of you and cried as Diluc made excuses about how you were just too pretty to resist and he needed you so badly - and instead, you concentrate on the warm heat of being stretched open. 

. . . It does feel good. 

You hate that it feels good, but you are not willing to lie to yourself - and if you are here, if you have no choice . . . perhaps you ought to simply let yourself melt into it.

Your hands fly up to cling to Diluc’s broad shoulders - surprise flitters across his expression, but it’s quickly replaced by that adoration that is so thick you feel it settle in your bone marrow. 

“You feel so good,” he mumbles. “‘M sorry, ‘m getting carried away--” 

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. It doesn’t matter, as he begins to increase in speed and a soft moan escapes your mouth. It doesn’t matter how wet the sound of him driving in and out of you is, when you can simply concentrate on the flares of pleasure that are sparking in your lower stomach with every thrust. 

The pace increases - but all you do is sigh, arch your back, and let it.

Diluc keeps murmuring apologies interspersed with compliments interspersed with justification - I’m sorry you’re beautiful I needed to do this I’m sorry you’re so so pretty I needed to feel you I needed to have you I’m sorry I’m sorry - but you banish those, too, to a different part of your mind. You concentrate only on the thrust and the pull and the push.

The emptiness contrasted with the fullness, the pleasure points inside of you that Diluc finds with every cant of his hips. His mumbles become nothing more than background noise as the complicated cat’s-cradle of strings inside of you are pulled and manipulated, so taut that any of them could snap at any moment.

And then they do.

And pleasure washes over you anew.

You feel yourself come for him as his cock twitches inside of you; your body pulsing and spasming around him even as warmth fills your insides and Diluc comes, crowding your sex with his seed. Your thighs tremble in response as he grinds into you, eking out the very last drops of both of your orgasms.

(You force yourself not to think of how you came for him, and the shame therein; you made the best of a bad situation, you force yourself to say, even though the glow of two peaks has settled about you and warmed your cheeks and made you breathless). 

“You’re beautiful,” he rumbles again, as he pulls out - as his seed drips from your stretched hole, staining the sheets. His hand moves from caging you in - flitters nervously beside your cheeks, before he cups the soft skin and pulls you into another kiss.

You kiss him back in surprise. What else can you do?

“I love you,” Diluc says to you, simply, when the kiss ends - as if he hasn’t just taken something precious and intimate from you. “I know I should have waited . . . but having you here, beneath my roof, how pretty you looked all soaked from the rain . . . you understand, don’t you?” His fingers dig harder into your cheek. “You still love me, don’t you?”

You have never loved Diluc Ragnvindr.

You have never cared about him more than on a surface level; the pleasure of being flirted with by such a well-known, well-regarded figure, and the romantic daydream of being snatched away from a humdrum life by the lord of the manor. But Diluc is staring at you with something that you think is need writ clear in his eyes, and . . .

And you think about Monstadt.

You think of how they adore him; of all of the other people who would kill to be in your place, who wouldn’t have swallowed back tears as the most handsome and eligible man in the nation made love to them. You think of how easy it would be, for Diluc to ruin your reputation - for him to say that you seduced him into this, to pull sad faces and pass on whispers until you were fair run out of town. For Diluc to make you unimportant, to turn everyone you knew against you and make himself the victim of all this, spreading whispers about how cruel you are to spread rumours he would do something so heinous--

“I love you,” you choke out.

And Diluc smiles at you, bright like the moon, and you think that he never expected you to say anything but.

[hollowbait]

Started watching Bleach again as an adult because I saw a 100k+ fic and decided that in order to read it, I needed to understand the canon. Once I actually got into the canon I fell immediately in love with Urahara and got sucked into a totally different ship. This is that ship. And since I'm a firm believer that once you read over 100 fics for a ship in less 3 months, you need to make a list of your favouriters, here we are!

@uraharaichigo's current top 25 URAICHI FIC.

breaking and entering is a crime, you know (but i'd forgive you of anything) by Excalis | T, 4k | “Why do you keep breaking into my house?” Ichigo complained, in lieu of a proper response. It was best to not feed Kisuke’s ego. “I was sexiled from my own home,” Kisuke sighed.

Your Humble Offering (In The Mouth Of This Abandoned Church) by RayShippouUchiha | M, 10k | Ichigo, the man who took Kisuke’s crumbling self into both of his hands and pressed the pieces back together with a gruff sort of gentleness, dies.

the shore at dusk (there you'll find my heart) by Starsilver | M, 5k | Ichigo dreams of the heartbeat pounding of the waves and the taste of brine on his lips.

Alchemy by athena_crikey | G, 22k | Shiba Ichigo leads a boring, blameless life as head administrator for the Shiba Clan. Until one day, a mysterious repair shop moves in next door.

Brightest by athena_crikey | T, 8k | “You fill your life with colour and noise and friendship, Kurosaki-san. It’s a very impressive trait. You turn enemies into friends. I… I turn friends into enemies.” Urahara’s still smiling; bitter, brittle.

Madness of Monday by NotLonelyJustAlone | G, 7k | How… how… how? How do you explain ‘I’ve either gone mad or I’m reliving the same week and I don’t feel mad and everything happens the same but I remember it all and I can’t can’t can’t keep doing this please help please please please because even if I’m not mad already I can tell the road there is definitely shorter today than yesterday?’

Standing Over Him by NotLonelyJustAlone | T, 10k | “And you, Kurosaki Ichigo, are mine.” Ichigo without his powers, but not totally alone.

Bureaucracy Hell by Aliendel | G, 8k | Reizei Ariko was considered old for a shinigami. Useless in a fight, she’d been relegated to an administrative position at the Academy. She was content with her mostly monotonous life dealing with arrogant nobles and stupid brats. Until an orange-haired young man barged into it and turned her life upside down like he had so many others.

Fashion Faux Pas? by celestivian | E, 20k | Ichigo has a big party to go to, and nothing to wear. Out of desperation, he seeks out Kisuke for help. Kisuke, of course, delivers.

You Don't Have a Soul, You Are a Soul (You Have a Body) by FeelingFredly | G, 2.6k | Kisuke has a disregard for his own safety a mile wide and it's enough to drive Ichigo mad. This time he finds the shopkeeper unconscious but not alone, and the woman with him has some very interesting things to say.

Car by CheshireSense (cywscross) | G, 4k | Urahara Kisuke handles pursuit of a love interest about the same way he handles everything else: with needlessly convoluted plans carried out in the most roundabout way possible because straightforward just won't cut it for him. He's lucky Ichigo's used to it by now.

Guard by CheshireSense (cywscross) | T, 18k | Later, Kisuke will remember and tease, "Were you really obsessing over me, Ichigo? Oh my, I have my own personal stalker!", and get an elbow to the face for his troubles.

Skeletons in the Closet (and flowers by the window) by Sky_King | T, 51k | Kisuke has a plan. He always has, and he’s very good at seeing it to completion no matter what. But as he grooms that noble boy into the perfect weapon to defeat Aizen, he begins to regret ever pursuing this idea.

A Deep Drink by Mousieta | T, 9k | Ichigo is a grad student who needs help writing his thesis. And Kisuke…. well no one has ever asked Kisuke what he needs. Does he even know? Does it matter?

i've always been this way (please don't scream) by Mister_Fox | T, 5k | “Ever wanted to snatch a pigeon out of the sky and eat it?” Kisuke asks idly.

Fade to Crimson (I know your name) by Starrie_Wolf | T, 8k | Ichigo’s a relative newcomer at the Seireitei Shatterdome, but he’s settled into the steady pace of his work fine, even made some friends. There’s just one thing.

what is reality? (what is a lie?) by Starrie_Wolf | T, 15k | Sequel to what is a gift? (what is a sacrifice?). Kisuke promises to restore Ichigo's powers after Ichigo makes a sacrifice he doesn't expect, and this changes things when Ginjou starts sniffing.

Equilibrium Position by Silmariën (Starrie_Wolf) | E, 15k | He can't believe he has Aizen to thank for getting them together. Can you send fruit baskets to Mugen?

Feeling Horny by Silmariën (Starrie_Wolf) | E, 3k | When Urahara shoved Ichigo to Hirako to learn how to control his inner Hollow, Ichigo thought it meant Urahara wasn’t Hollowfied. He was wrong.

Ficlet February by nahnahnahnah | G, 20k | And he had faith, he did, that Ichigo would defeat Yhwach. That was a startling enough realization, that he would have faith in anyone other than maybe Yoruichi and Tessai.

Patience by floweringbloom | E, 4k | Ichigo needs to have more patience, but he's very good at being Kisuke's distraction.

Remember Me (I won’t wait) by fw_feathers (callmeren) | G, 6k | On November 6, 2022, 13:00, the world’s first VRMMO game «Brave Souls Online» officially opened its servers. On November 6, 2022, 15:37, Kurosaki Ichigo put on his NerveGear and entered «Brave Souls Online». On November 6, 2022, 17:30, the game of death began.

Every Second (I’ll be running) by fw_feathers (callmeren) | M, 25k | “You didn’t tell us your zanpakuto spirit is a giant sea serpent, Ichigo-san,” Kisuke says mildly. “Ah,” Ichigo says, shading his eyes with a hand. “Should I have mentioned that?”

For You, My Dear, I’d Wait Forever by PhishyFish | T, 27k | Everybody knew about the 12th’s lieutenant. After all, he made quite the striking figure. Wild orange hair, a permanent scowl, and power that clung tightly to his skin, it really was not an exaggeration that everyone knew him, or at the least, knew about him.

[otomefiend]

Alfons Sylvatica

Story Event: Dark (What) If ~ Who are you in this twisted fairytale world? ~

Chapter 1

Al is his usual self & the chapter ends with non-con, so proceed with caution.

~~Part 1~~

Victor: "Kate, reaching the best ending is now in your hands."

Victor: "...... come, let's send you to the twisted fairytale world."

~~~

When I woke up, I was lying on a bed in a beautiful castle.

(...... this place)

As I looked around, under the veil of the night, for a brief moment, I felt a sense of serenity.

Blue-eyed, blonde man: "...... you're awake?"

(...... what a gorgeous person. I've never seen someone so beautiful)

Blue-eyed, blonde man: "Good morning, Snow White."

(I'm Snow White!? That means I've been transported to the world of 'Snow White')

Kate: "... Um, I'm sorry, I know we've only just met, but who are you?"

Queen Elbert: "...... I'm Elbert. Also known as the 'Queen of Greed'."

(He's the Queen?)

The Queen in the fairy tale was jealous of the beautiful Snow White and tried to kill her with a poisoned apple.

(Could he be the one who is causing distortion in this world?)

Kate: "... Why am I in this castle?"

Queen Elbert: "Thanks to the huntsman called Roger..."

~~~

Roger: "Oi! This young miss dropped (unconscious) in the forest. You in there?"

Queen Elbert: "... I'm here."

~~~

Kate: "Humph, treating someone like an object!...... I appreciate the help you have given me."

This world was a little different from the usual fairy tales.

(... It was not unexpected, considering it became warped because 'something was missing')

Queen Elbert: "... Snow White."

Kate: "Y-Yes...?"

~~Part 2~~

The intensity of his gaze made me stiffen, which in turn caused the beautiful queen to tilt his head innocently.

Queen Elbert: "Are you hungry?"

I was taken to the dining room, where I was presented with a plethora of dishes lined up on the table.

(Woah, fluffy bread, corn potage, and desserts!)

(Wait, they might be laced with poison...)

Queen Elbert: "......Is there something that's not to your liking?"

Kate: "Oh, it's...... no, not at all."

He pulled out a chair and urged me to sit down, but then sat a few spaces away from me.

It felt like he was trying to show concern, picking up on my distrust of him.

Kate: "Why are you being so considerate towards me? We've only just met."

Queen Elbert: "...... why indeed? I'm searching for the most beautiful thing in the world."

Queen Elbert: "It might be that you're what I'm looking for."

A beautiful and terrifying smile filled with madness reached his blue eyes, but

It soon vanished as fleeting as a summer mirage.

Queen Elbert: "...... besides, I didn't want to leave you alone."

Kate: "Huh?"

Queen Elbert: "..... It feels lonely to wake up alone."

Disarmed by the sincerity coming through this combination of madness and kindness, I felt myself slowly letting down my guard.

Kate: "I'm also looking for something that is 'missing' in this world."

Queen Elbert: "Oh, then... you might want to ask Al."

Kate: "Al?"

~~Part 3~~

Queen Elbert pointed to a portrait,

depicting him and a figure visible only in their profile.

Queen Elbert: "My attendant, Alfons Sylvatica. He's my mirror."

Kate: "Mirror..."

Queen Elbert: "He lets me know whether something is beautiful or not, amongst other things."

(Hmm, does that mean I should go and see the mirror called Alfons?)

Kate: "Where can I find him?"

Queen Elbert: "??......?"

Queen Elbert: "......I wonder."

(What?)

With Lord Elbert's permission, I set out to search the castle.

(Not here)

(Not here either)

(He's nowhere to be found! Does this mean he's not in the castle?)

???: "You seem troubled, Snow White. If you're looking for Alfons the Mirror, he's in the pub."

(Huh? I just heard someone's voice...)

There was a little bird by the window, its feathers reminiscent of the colour of the night.

Kate: "A talking bird...?"

Little bird: "I talk, of course. This is a twisted fairy tale world, so your common sense doesn't really apply."

(Oh, I see...)

Kate: "Thanks for letting me know he's in the pub."

Little bird: "Make sure he doesn't touch the nape of your neck. He has the ability to briefly alter your perception."

Little bird: "Well then, take care. Byeee."

~~~

I slipped out of the castle and made my way to the pub in question. The moment I entered, an atmosphere of decadence surrounded me.

(The person in that portrait, the one with raven hair...)

Alfons the Mirror: "Snow White has awoken from her slumber. Would you care for an apple?"

~~Part 4~~

Alfons the Mirror: "Snow White has awoken from her slumber. Would you care for an apple?"

Alfons the Mirror: "... Ah, this sounds like something El would say."

Sitting in front of me was the person from the portrait.

Kate: "You're Alfons, am I right?"

Alfons the Mirror: "Uh-huh, I'm Alfons. How did you end up in a place like this?"

Alfons the Mirror: "Wouldn't it be nicer being pampered by the queen with a hoarding addiction?"

(If I want to get information, I have to confide in him about the situation I'm in, don't I?)

Kate: "Actually..."

Alfons the Mirror: "You want to find 'something that's missing' in this world in order to return to your reality, is that right? Why do you care about finding it?"

Kate: "Eh?"

Alfons the Mirror: "There are more ways to get back to normal, don't you think? There's no point obsessing over what's missing."

Kate: "What other ways are there?"

Alfons the Mirror: "Being hit on the head, drowning in a river, or simply just dying."

(......what the heck)

It only took a short exchange to realize how insolent and inappropriate this guy was.

Kate: "There might be other ways, but... I don't think it'd be right if I was the only one saved."

Kate: "I will find what is missing and correct the distortion of this world. That's my happy ending."

Alfons the Mirror: "A-ha! You're so very serious, aren't you?"

Alfons the Mirror: "After all, distortion of the world and turmoil of others are trivial matters when compared to protecting yourself."

~~Part 5~~

Kate: "I'm fine with being seen as foolish. So, is there anything missing in this world?"

Alfons the Mirror: "Is there, or isn't there, I wonder?"

Kate: "Please, think about it."

Alfons the Mirror: "Mhm, I've already committed myself to this, so here's an idea."

Ostentatiously, he held out an amber coloured cocktail in front of me.

Alfons the Mirror: "Shall we have a drink together until I remember?"

Kate: "...... but I'm in the middle of conducting my search."

Alfons the Mirror: "It's unlikely you'll find it today or tomorrow, am I right? If you don't take a breather, you'll exhaust yourself."

Mesmerised by the gentle swirling of the drink and the voice pouring into my ears, I could feel my resolve weaken.

(...... indeed, he's right. I've been on my toes up until now)

Kate: "Then... I'll have some of it."

Alfons the Mirror: "Please do. Bottoms up. Barkeep, same again."

~~~

Two shadows flickered in a small room at the back of the pub.

Alfons the Mirror: "Heh, watch out... careful where you step, please."

Kate: "Ng.... no more drin...k."

Alfons the Mirror: "Haha, you're properly sloshed."

As he tried to lay her on the bed, Kate firmly grabbed Alfons' neck.

Alfons the Mirror: "Whoa..."

The gesture was so innocent that it seemed like a child lost on their way home.

Alfons the Mirror: "You shouldn't hug a man whilst looking so lonely."

His fingertips slid down to the nape of Kate's neck, and his lips whispered in her ear.

Alfons the Mirror: "I'm your precious lover. Feel free to entrust your mind and body to me..."

Kate: "......Alfo......ns?"

Alfons the Mirror: "Now, forget all the troublesome things..."

~~~